Stopping mid-leap and just shy of the second-floor landing, at first, all Link can manage is a blank stare and some blinking. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks hemustbe dreaming. Must be safely asleep in bed with Ash, having imagined this entire day, because the alternative—fuck.The alternative is his definition of a living nightmare.
Between the timing and the dramatic entrance,whatin the Lifetime Movie of the Week is going on here? There’s coincidence, there’s serendipity, and then there’s whateverthisis,andLink isn’t buying into the bullshit. This has to be magic.Darkmagic, because if it’s not, Link's not sure he wants to live in a world where things likethisjust happen.
All of that considered, Link thinks that he can probably be forgiven for having been rendered temporarily speechless as he gawks up at the smug, condescending face of the one—the only—Whitakerfuckin’DiAngelo.
“Hello, kids,” Whitaker says smoothly, anddamn it.Link knew the guy had a stupid accent, but he immediately decides that it’s much worse in person, and curses himself for not having an Eliza Doolittle joke on standby.
Whitaker strides forward casually, as if he didn’t just shove a Remington in her own fucking home, nearly sending her flying over the edge of the balcony to her death (or worse).
“Hey,” Link protests weakly, waving a hand towards the door. He’s still gathering his wits, exchanging a series of confused glances with Sam and unsure of what the hell to do next. Meanwhile, Whitaker starts towards him down the stairs, seriously unbothered.
“Hey,” Link repeats more firmly, but the cocky asshole doesn’t so much as raise an eyebrow, smirking down at him from only one step above. Irritation rises in Link's throat, and he barely resists the urge to cold-cock the dude andactuallyflip him over the railing, the way he nearly did to Sam.
“I said,hey!”
“You did, twice. Good for you,” Whitaker replies distractedly, patting Link patronizingly on the shoulder as he passes him on the stairs, both undeterred and undaunted by the posturing. Left behind on the steps, Link fumes. Getting into a fistfight wasn’t on his agenda tonight, but hell is absolutely going to freeze over before he’s ever letting this fucking guyanywherenear—
“Ash, you’re here. It’s good to see you.”
Shit.
Whitaker’s already in the middle of the atrium while Link's still scrambling after him like a confused puppy, and he hates himself for it. He’s just barely reaching the bottom of the steps as the walking blood sausage speaks, feeling like he’s one step behind at every single turn.
So much for being Ashton’s knight in shining armor.
A glance toward the library’s archway tells him that he’s too late, anyway, because a shirtless—drool later, Link—Ashton is filling up the spacecompletely. There’s something different about Ash—his energy, or maybe his posture? Link can’t quite put his finger on whatever it is, but it’ssomething.There’s an air about him that makes Link pause, stops him from charging into the empty space between Ashton and his ex to do something wildly territorial and embarrassing.
Notably, he stillwantsto do exactly that. It’s a true fight with the devil on his shoulder, a battle to hold his own ass at bay, and one that Link nearly loses several times over in the span of less than a minute.
“Whitaker,” Ashton replies flatly, his face scrunching up in confusion (but no less handsome for it, as far as Link's concerned). “What is all this? What are you doing here?”
Even as he talks, Ashton’s gaze seeks to find Link’s, and while Whitaker is busy preening and doing some of the most self-masturbatory orating Link’s ever heard right there in the middle of the atrium, Link and Ashton have an entire conversation without exchanging a single word.
Link raises an eyebrow.You want me to kill him?
A brief roll of Ashton’s eyes suggests no. The corner of his lips twitches, and he breaks eye contact to glance pointedly at the light switches on the wall before locking onto Link again.
The lights? You want them off?Link does his best to think as loudly as possible, feeling like it lands when the side of Ashton’s mouth quirks upjustslightly. The change wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone that wasn’t looking for it, but Link is. He couldn’t look away if he tried.
Oblivious to their silent conversation, Whitaker is addressing the room like an invited orator, living up to his pompous reputation without even trying. He clearly enjoys hearing himself speak, wholly indifferent to what anyone else in the room might be doingandthe fact that he’s the opposite of welcome in this place. In Link'ssafespace, damn it.
“I came to bring you home, Ash,” Whitaker declares, his aura and attitude suggesting that he truly believes he’s doing Ashton a favor by offering. “People are talking, and I like what’s being said. Talking about you, actually. The things you’ve been doing, the charms you’ve been creating. As far as I'm concerned, you and me, Ashes? Nothing's changed. We're partners. Of course, I want you back. I want tohelpyou.”
Link makes a face and considers trialing the fire-starting charm he’s been learning on Whitaker’s goatee.
“Hmm. I’m doing just fine without your ‘help’,” Ashton replies stoically, using actual air quotes, which makes Link smirk. While he’s technically looking at his ex, Link canfeelAshton’s focus and attention on him as he edges discretely towards the wall and the switch panel. Honestly, Link has no idea why Ashton might want him to be subtle in filling that request, but this is Ashton’s Thunderdome and the rest of them are just spectators.
Keeping with that metaphor, Link is Ashton’s number one fan, his hype guy, his coach. The dude with the towel wiping up the blood—whatever his guy needs. So if Ashton wants sneaky special effects, then that’s exactly what he’s going to get.
“Sure, sure,” Whitaker replies, steepling his fingers and nodding as he paces around one of the coffee tables. There’s an open bottle of Macallan sitting there, and sohelpthat bastard if he tries it—
“Out of curiosity, youdoknow that I could flick your precious little friends here off of a cliff, just on principle?”
Link pauses in his slow sidle towards the wall, and Sam stiffens from her warily-held position halfway up the stairs, both of themmorethan ready to throw down. Even if Whitaker is hiding some sort of weapon, or if he’s weirdly good with combat charms, it’ll be three against one, and Sam’swayscrappier than she looks, plus she’s almost always carrying. Surely, even this prick wouldn’t bethatstupid, to try something physical like this.
Thankfully, Whitaker holds up a hand and then waves dismissively. “Figuratively speaking, of course,” he adds, a sly grin pulling at his mouth that makes Link slightly nauseous.
Fuckin’ dramatic asshole.
