Chapter Text
"Will, love," Alex said to her fiancé as soon as he'd gotten out of the shower, "did you seriously try to jump off a twenty-foot pole today?"
Will attempted to pull a face like he hadn't understood what Al had told him, though ended up looking thoroughly constipated instead. "What?" His voice came out too high-pitched, and Al must have noticed, because her eyes narrowed. Bollocks, he thought to himself, clutching his towel tighter around his waist.
Al rolled her eyes, shaking her head in disapproval. "For fuck's sake, Will."
"What?" Will's tone grew defensive. "I made sure I was safe beforehand-"
"How?" Al glared at him. "How in the hell is it ever safe to go jumping from high places outside of combat situations, Will? You know damn well that your neck's only just better; you can't just go trying to bloody snap it again." Her tone faltered at her mention of Will's injury, and she swallowed. "I... what were you even thinking, babe? There had to have been some sort of reason. You normally don't make snap judgements outside of matches."
Will sighed, sitting on the bed, his towel still wrapped around him. He'd much appreciate the opportunity to be left alone so he could actually get changed, but Al was stubborn at the most inconvenient moments to him. If he was honest, it was one of the reasons why he was drawn to her in the first place. "It wasn't my idea; it was Darby's," he explained tentatively, fully aware that Al was giving him one of those looks. "He thought that... well, he thought it would help draw out my Shift."
"Will, we've been through this. You've not got a Shift," Al replied with a sigh. She sat down next to her fiancé, close enough for him to feel the warmth of her proximity, but far enough away that she didn't touch his wet body. "If you had one, it would have appeared ten years ago. Hell, fifteen, almost." She offered Will her hand; he dried his own on his towel before holding it, his thumb grazing the pulse point on her wrist, allowing him to momentarily feel her strong, steady heartbeat. "Even if jumping off that pole had brought on something, that doesn't necessarily mean your Shift would survive the fall," Al went on. "Just because your surname is Ospreay, doesn't mean you'll become a bird. I mean, look what Kevin Knight's shift is."
Will snorted. "The irony of being a dolphin high-flyer, huh."
"Anyway," Al continued. "You really need to stop taking such crazy risks outside of matches, my love."
"But Darby does it all the time," Will protested, wincing at how childish he sounded.
Al sniffed. "Darby can afford to take risks. The man climbed Everest without one single use of his Shift, for God's sake." Darby Allin's Shift was a common one- a cat- though his was larger than most others, allowing him better hazard perception. "If something went wrong for him, he could change in an instant and negate the harmful side effects of whatever he's doing. You can't, Will. That's partly what broke your neck."
Will sighed. "I guess. It's just... I just feel so stupid, being the only one I know without a Shift." His grip tightened on Al's hand. "I'm at such a disadvantage to everybody else. And... What if we have kids? What if I curse them with the same thing somehow?"
"Oh, Will," Al replied. "You worry far too much. The only part of any child we may have that you determine is whether it's a boy or girl." She rested her hand on his shoulder, forgetting that he was still damp from the shower, and immediately pulled it away, grimacing. "Bollocks. Forgot you were wet."
Will smirked. "Why else would I be sat here in nothing but a towel, dumbarse?"
"Oi!" Al kicked him in the leg. "I forgot for a moment, alright?"
Will's grin grew even larger. "You forgot about the fact your very handsome future husband is sat next to you, half-naked," he replied coyly. "In fact, practically naked. Makes sense."
"Will," Alex groaned. She rolled her eyes. "And people seriously don't believe me when I say you have a one-track mind."
"You're the one that's made it inappropriate now," Will laughed. He ruffled Al's hair with his spare hand, eliciting a grunt of protest when she felt the dampness still on his palm.
"Eugh! Get off! You're making me all wet," Al complained, before freezing and sagging her shoulders. "Shit. Do not-"
"Oh, am I now?" Will raised an eyebrow; his grin was now so wide that it could have split his face. "You're digging a deeper grave every second, babe. Am I going to have to fill it?"
"Shut the fuck up," Al grumbled, trying and failing to hide the smile that found its way onto her mouth. She prised Will's hand from her scalp, pushing it away. "Honestly, Will, you're such a pain in the arse." Her expression hardened into something more serious again. "Just... Please don't try to do any more stupid shit. I understand your frustration, but acting like a maniac will not bring out your Shift."
Will sighed, squeezing his fiancée's hand. "I can't make promises, but I can try."
"Thank you, babe." Al gave Will a small smile that made his heart rate spike. She exhaled and stood up, stretching her arms above her head. "Well, I'd better let you get yourself dressed now, then. We've got to go meet Swerve in two hours."
Smirking, Will raised an eyebrow. "Are you one-hundred-percent certain you don't want to take advantage of the fact your very handsome fiancé is currently sat next to you, half nak-"
"Oh, keep it in your pants, Will."
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Don Callis sat behind his polished mahogany desk on a real leather armchair, his hands folded on the desk in front of him, waiting patiently. Very soon, he expected to have a pair of important visitors, and he wanted to appear calm and collected. There was no point rushing into business like a bull in a china shop; one must tread cautiously and carefully.
As Don checked his wristwatch, a magnificent-looking bird of paradise glided in through the open window behind him, its talons mere centimetres from grazing the crown of his head. It turned in an elegant arc, its golden feathers shimmering in the developing twilight, before its form blurred and melted, elongating into the form of a tall, stoic man with bleach-blond hair and a tailored gray suit with wide-leg trousers. The man bowed forwards respectfully, unsmiling. "Don."
"Good evening, Okada-san," Don replied, the corner of his mouth turning upwards as he looked over his most trusted henchman. "You are not who I was expecting, but it's wonderful to see you nonetheless."
"You have visitors?" Okada raised an eyebrow. "I did not know."
Don nodded, leaning forwards. "Yes. Very important visitors, in fact. You are welcome to stay and speak with them as well, though I believe... they may not take too kindly to your presence."
Okada frowned. "Why not? I am universally loved, no? Unlike Takeshita," he added, a hint of venom creeping into his voice.
"Of course, of course," Don soothed, choosing to ignore Okada's final utterance. "It's just that-"
Don was interrupted with a knock on the door. "Enter," he commanded, and the door creaked open to reveal Lance Archer, who poked his head around and nodded towards both Don and Okada.
"Don, your visitors are here," he announced, his voice echoing loudly inside the small room. "Should I bring them in?"
Don raised an eyebrow at Okada; an unspoken question. Instantaneously, Okada's form blurred and shrank in a whirlpool-like motion, until he became a golden bird once more. He fluttered up to sit on Don's shoulder, a single chirp escaping from his beak as he glanced towards the door, his head cocked to the side. "They may enter," Don said, plastering a smile on his face. Though he wasn't the biggest fan of his visitors, he needed to put his business face on. That was another one of his unspoken rules: Always appear friendly, even if you hate their guts.
Lance fully opened the door and walked away, allowing two intimidating-looking figures to walk into the room. The first figure- a short, sturdily-built woman with auburn hair tied back in a tight ponytail- immediately froze at the sight of Okada's Shift, glowering at him. Don's other visitor, a bald man wearing a black hoodie and torn jeans, rolled his shoulders back and nodded respectfully towards Don, taking no notice of the bird on his shoulder. "Don Callis. Been a while."
"Jon, Marina," Don replied, nodding towards each of them in turn. "I am grateful that you've been able to make it. Now, I have a proposition-"
"What is he doing here?" Marina snapped, pointing at Okada's Shift. Her voice was laced with contempt. "We were told to come here to meet you alone. What gives him the right to listen to us?"
"Marina, chill," Jon reassured her, clapping her shoulder. "He's the one whose ass I beat for my Championship. He's not any danger to us."
In the blink of an eye, Okada swooped off of Don's shoulder, becoming human again mere inches away from Jon's face. "You want to say that to my human face, bitch?" he snarled.
"Okada-san, kudasai," Don implored, wondering whether he should call Lance in to intervene. Thankfully, Okada listened to his boss, shrinking away from Jon with gritted teeth. While Don continued to speak, Okada remained in human form, periodically glaring at Jon and Marina in turn. "Okada will not tell anybody our plans," Don reassured the Death Rider pair, his fingers drumming on his desk. "I believe him to be trustworthy."
"I don't," Marina muttered, though she quietened when Jon held up a hand, commanding her to remain silent as he took centre stage.
"Very well, Don," he replied. "Can't say I trust the Rainmaker myself, but I just want to get this deal finalized somehow. Normally, we're very reluctant to work with people, so it better be a damn good proposition."
Don leaned forwards and smiled broadly; he knew his next two words would be a deal-maker. "Will Ospreay."
Jon smirked; Marina exhaled sharply. Okada, meanwhile, continued to glare at them both, obviously still pissed at Jon's backhanded comment from before. "What about Ospreay?" Marina finally asked after a pregnant pause, folding her arms.
"That... that brat is a thorn in my side," Don explained, his jaw set. "He has bested Takeshita, Fletcher, and even- apologies- Okada. All without a Shift in sight, I might add."
"So you want us to go deal with him?" Jon scoffed. "Been there, done that. He's got the fucked-up neck to prove it."
"No, no, not exactly," Don countered, tapping his foot impatiently. "I have a slightly different idea for you. For all of your Death Rider bretheren." He smiled again, broad and sinister, not unlike a snake. "I believe... I believe that it is an arrangement you will find great pleasure in the value of. Now, listen..."