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™ Avery and Ricky for Mal in the AMAHB verse
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Avery:
“He’s an alrigh’ kid. Shame his dad’s such a fuckin’ wad of shit, though.”
Ricky:
“He needs to stay th’fuck away from Jesse. Don’t even look at him. Not allowed. Jesse is a goddamn ray of sunshine an’ that fucker would ruin him.”
“Nononononono–” Avery’s voice was little more than a desperate whisper, but Mal was too fast for him to even grab ahold of him. He could barely watch, shrinking back away from whatever scene was about to unfold before him.
Thaddeus lifted his head at Mal’s sudden declaration, but to Avery’s astonishment, he only looked mildly annoyed by the intrusion. “Go home, kid,” he told Mal with a scoff, waving his free hand at him dismissively. “Looks like you’ve had too much.”
Stefan looked over at Mal, and from the expression on his face it was clear he was looking for a way out of the conversation with Thaddeus – just not at the expense of Mal potentially getting hurt.
“It’s alright, Mal,” he said, keeping his tone as even as ever. “Wait for me outside, I’ll be right there.”
Yet Mal kept moving toward Thaddeus, pointing a finger at him as he neared. “Ain’ enough booze t’deal w’th’likes a’you,” he snarled, fully intent on grabbing onto whatever he could reach to yank him away from Stefan. No sense trying to drag Stefan away when the object of his ire was within reach. Besides, he didn’t want to insult Stefan like that.
Avery wanted so badly to laugh at the notion, but he was distracted in the moment by fear – fear that whatever Mal was about to do would put him squarely in Thaddeus’ crosshairs. His father was many things, but merciful was not on the list. Despite himself, Avery had come to like Mal. Maybe not ‘adopt me’ levels of like, but…he had always kind of wanted an older brother. But then again, he supposed he had Ricky to fill that role.
He tried in vain to once again put himself between Mal and the now open doorway, glancing over his shoulder back into the building to try and get a gauge on the scenario that awaited them. It only took him mere seconds to find his father, sitting at the bar – with his arm draped around Stefan Campbell’s shoulders.
Oh, for the love of fuck, Dad.
Aw. Avery was trying to stall him for some reason. Mal giggled. “Y’r a toothpick, y’can’t stop me,” he told him, pushing him aside again and stepping into the building. “Not ev’n sure why y’r tryin’a...”
Mal looked for Thaddeus. And found him. Cozying up to Stefan.
His blood went cold. Then hot. He pushed up his sleeves and stomped toward yelling, “Get y’r hands off’im righ’ now!”
Hurriedly, Avery spun on his heel and made an only moderately successful attempt at putting himself between Mal and the door he was now charging back towards. “Oh, nononono, that is really not necessary,” he tried to tell Mal, raising his hands to try and stop him – as his heels slid through the soft earth beneath them as Mal continued to propel them both in the direction of the door.
He should have known better than to let the conversation linger on the subject of his father for too long. His father was not a very likable man, and from Mal’s reaction, he was part of a very long line of people who had some personal beef with Thaddeus.
“Oh, yesyesyes’t is,” Mal loudly insisted, eventually shouldering past Avery with a wobble before correcting his trajectory. “Men li’ ‘im don’ d’serve sons li’ you! ‘Dopt y’m’self if i could!” Well, maybe. It’d be a little weird. Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing in the world. Probably.
When he reached the door that’d get him back inside and therefore closer to finding Thaddeus so he could yell at him so everyone would know just how awful he was, Mal paused. He needed a moment to collect himself as much as the anger- and alcohol-induced haze allowed. Then he hauled it open, prepared to march inside.
Despite himself, Avery rolled his eyes. “Yeah…” he affirmed, with a note of derision in his voice. “To an extent, he really doesn’t give a shit what I do, but at the same time, if I were to leave the country, he would know about it. Nothing that’s actually important is truly mine.”
He sighed heavily, raking a hand through his dark curls. “I…” he trailed off, hesitating, but decided he had to finish the thought. Mal was so drunk there was a fifty-fifty shot he would even remember this conversation. “I really just want to find out what happened to my mom.”
Mal became more unhappy when Avery confirmed his suspicions. Thad was every bit the asshole and then some. Through his hazy thoughts, it reminded him of someone else’s dad who was similarly awful, yet couldn’t remember exactly who it was. Either way, it pissed him right off.
“Y’r dad’s a godawful piece’a’shit,” he stated, dimly aware Avery had said more things but dismissing them as unimportant. Then pointed in the direction of the hotel/conference centre/whatever the fuck it was that they’d just walked out from. “Gonna go back ‘n there’n give ‘im a piece a’my mind!”
Despite his visible confusion, Avery nonetheless meandered over to Mal and allowed him to put his arm around his shoulder, guiding him towards the door. “Um, okay,” he acquiesced, as the two of them took careful steps – led by Mal’s slightly inebriated walk. “I see the point you’re trying to make, though.” As they got closer and closer to the door, Avery put a hand out in order to open the door for Mal, wanting to make the process as easy as possible for the notably drunker man. As soon as they took their first steps out into the evening air, it seemed a bit easier for Avery to fully speak his mind. “I just can’t casually…hop on a plane to France, is all.”
Mal had giggled throughout the walk from the bar to the door, the sound bubbling out of him like, well, bubbles. “We made it!” he announced once they were outside, lifting his free arm into the air. Speaking of which, outside was a refreshing break from the stuffiness inside. He took a few lungfuls of it.
“Sure y’can,” he countered, “unless y’don’ got th’righ’ eye-dee or th’cash. Or-” he made an unhappy noise “-y’dad has charge o’all your things.”
Avery paused, looking somewhat thoughtful, before he responded. “No, I guess you’re right about that,” he conceded. “There’s a lot of places I want to go, someday. Thing is, I just don’t know if I can, y’know? I mean, there’s nothing really stopping me, but…” He trailed off for a moment, then shrugged. “Just waiting for the right time, I guess.”
It was Mal’s turn to huff a laugh. “Waiting,” he repeated with a roll of his eyes and then he drained his glass. “C’mon, man, o’course y’can! There’s nothin’ stoppin’ ya! Look, c’mere.” Mal set his empty glass on the bar and hopped to his feet: he wobbled slightly from both sitting so long and the alcohol now in his system. “Avery, c’mere.” He waved him over eagerly, intending to wrap an arm around his shoulder for camaraderie and support. “You an’me, we’re gonna walk righ’ out th’door, righ’ now.”
By this point, the older members of the group had gravitated into a conversation of their own nearby, leaving the group of young men to their own devices. In a way, that came as a relief to Avery, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t out of the woods in that regard just yet.
Despite his genuine interest in the redhead, Jesse shrank back when Mal took the initiative to place himself between the two of them. He could only assume and hope that Mal’s reaction was out of a protective instinct rather than actual jealousy – but either way, he had a feeling that if Ricky’s interest was genuine, they might have another chance to have a proper conversation before the end of the evening.
Though Ricky recognized the thinly veiled barb, he chose to brush it off with a brief chuckle. “Yeah, you got it,” he agreed with a slight grin, briefly shooting Mal a one-handed finger gun as their handshake ended.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ricky couldn’t help noticing when Thaddeus called for his son’s attention once more, and Avery reluctantly shuffled over to join the older crowd. Apparently Stefan himself had wanted an opportunity to talk to Avery himself. Though he remained moderately aware of what was going on with the rest of the group, he relaxed a bit more as Angelica once again went out of her way to occupy Thaddeus’ attention.
“So,” Ricky spoke again, turning his full attention back to Mal and Jesse once more. “I imagine it must be interesting working for Mr. Campbell. Never a dull moment, as they say?”
The moment Ricky looked away, Mal did as well, for the same reason: Avery had become the reluctant man of the hour. Ah. Stefan was engaging with him, courtesy of Thaddeus. Good. His gaze lingered on the two of them speaking for a moment, briefly wishing he could eavesdrop purely out of interest. Just as much to know what angles Stefan was taking as finding out more about Avery himself.
Nevertheless, he returned his attention back to Ricky right before he struck up conversation again. Forced, it felt, but polite -- and, yeah, there was a charm there, but Mal wasn’t gonna admit that anytime soon.
“Never,” he agreed with a lazy smile. “Always keeps us on our toes, but makes sure we never want for anything. Although...” Glancing around to ensure no one else was paying attention, Mal leaned toward Ricky and beckoned him to do the same. In a carefully lowered voice, he said, “Can I tell you something real quick?”
Avery had picked up a fairly decent ability to read people, having lived his entire life in the world of organized crime. His instincts told him that Mal was a trustworthy sort of guy, at least to an extent. That, and the fact that his dad didn’t like him.
“Nah,” he responded with a shrug. “I’ve got Ricky. I’ve got the privileges that come with being related to someone with the kind of power my dad has. And, I mean…I’ve got nowhere else to go anyway.”
“Hmm.” Mal regarded Avery curiously while sipping his whiskey. “Y’sure ‘bout tha’?” Unless the shitty excuse of a father had the kid tied down somehow, which didn’t seem like him. Gesturing with his glass, Mal said, “There’s a big ol’ world out there, don’ tell me y’been everywhere yet!”
“I’ve tried that already,” Avery replied with a shrug, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he spoke. “All it’s done for me so far is give me a lot of bad habits, and make it more and more apparent just how much my dad doesn’t care about me.”
Something about Mal made it very easy for Avery to open up to him. He wasn’t sure why, but it seemed like he understood how he felt.
Mal’s brows shot up. It was one thing to suspect the kid had a bad habit or two by looks and behaviour alone, alongside dad issues, but it was another thing to hear it from Avery himself. And here he’d been thinking the kid would be a harder nut to crack. He settled his face; his smile became wry.
“I take it he ain’ th’reason y’stick around, then,” he ventured, nudging the conversation into a bit safer of a direction.
Avery couldn’t help the sarcastic huff of breath that passed through his lips, in the imitation of amusement. “Understatement of the century,” he muttered bitterly, albeit glancing over his shoulder to make sure his father was not, in fact, within earshot, before he turned back towards Mal. He had to admit, there was something freeing about having someone else he could relax around besides Ricky. “I’d say he’s nicer to the people who work for him than he is to me, but…he doesn’t really give a shit what I do anyway.”
Mal mimed a cheers with his drink before taking a sip. The slight slur in his speech wasn’t from drunkeness, it was just how he spoke when he didn’t feel like he had to make an effort enunciating his words all the time. Like he’d had to while at Stefan’s side among the other “business people”. That’d been exhausting.
“Kinda got tha’, yeah,” he said with a sympathetic nod. Then the smile returned. “Yanno, y’could use tha’ t’your advantage...”
"Why should I trust you?"
Mal pressed his shoulder blades against the bar to propel himself into a straighter sitting position, a smile sharpening his mouth before disappearing around a swallow of whiskey. “Ain’ tha’ th’question of th’night.” He sighed as finished his drink, placed the glass atop the bar, and signaled for a refill. “I’m not here t’ tell ya y’oughta trust me, tha’s just stupid.” Once his drink was ready again, he picked up the glass to gesture toward Avery with it. “I can tell ya your daddy’s a mean man, but that’s old news t’you, eh?”
Avery had gotten up from his bar stool at some point during the conversation, even just to use his father as a barrier between himself and the gaggle of strangers. However, he couldn’t help but glance up when he heard his name spoken. It didn’t help that the blonde woman, Angelica, had drawn Thaddeus off to the side just a little to engage him – or perhaps, distract him, with one of her famous stories.
“That’s me,” he spoke up, with a small wave of his hand. “I’m Avery.”
It was a moment of social bravery that surprised even himself. It did help, however, that his father was distracted, and that Ricky was right next to him now. Ricky was his best friend…perhaps, indeed, his only friend, and having him there was the greatest comfort of the evening for Avery, seeing as he could always count on him to deflect attention away from Avery and onto himself.
Ricky, at the moment, was smiling his smile that some would call cordial and others would call dazzling, with his focus trained on the two younger men in the party. Younger, of course, but closer to Ricky and Avery’s own ages.
“Ricky’s the name,” he introduced himself to the man who’d addressed them both, whom Thaddeus had called Mal; while extending his hand for him to shake. “You weren’t far off, though; I am mainly known for standing around and looking pretty.” Despite himself, he glanced over at the other young man standing next to Mal, the doe-eyed, curly-haired one who had been described as Stefan’s son. The one who had kept sneaking glances at him since the group had walked in. “How y’all doin’?” Ricky asked, directing the question towards both men equally.
Avery knew his friend all too well, and averted his eyes for a moment to keep from rolling them. He knew that look – Ricky had a habit of finding the one person in a room he should not flirt with, and setting his sights squarely on them. Clearly tonight was no exception, but at least Campbell Jr. seemed receptive to it.
The kid speaks, Mal thought with some surprise that had his brows lifting briefly. Unconsciously, if not instinctively, he returned the little wave alongside a small smile. It morphed into a bigger, albeit more practiced smile as he stepped forward to shake Ricky’s hand.
“Pretty being the subjective term, yes?” Mal’s tone was playful yet when he’d stepped back, he’d shifted ever-so-slightly in front of Jesse. He knew that look as well as he knew the back of his own hand. Don’t get any ideas, pal.
The eye contact between Stefan and Thaddeus was incredibly charged – about as much so as the ensuing handshake was tense and awkward.
“Thaddeus,” Stefan said simply, by way of greeting.
“Stefan,” Thaddeus replied in kind, shooting him an ear-to-ear grin that he did not return. “How nice to see you this evening.”
Before Stefan could respond, Angelica loosened her grasp on Laurence’s arm and cozied up beside Stefan instead, giving Thaddeus a dazzling smile of her own.
“Hiya, Teddy bear,” she greeted him, batting her eyelashes. “It’s been too long. How’ve you been?” As she spoke, she extended one of her bejeweled hands for him to shake, waggling her fingers a little for good measure.
Angie’s intrusion had clearly caught Thaddeus offguard, though it was a wonder how he had managed to miss her given how her dress sparkled like a disco ball. He visibly faltered before delicately shaking Angie’s offered hand.
“Angie,” he responded, his smile suddenly looking a lot less menacing and more forced than it had before. “As…lovely as ever.”
Laurence made no attempt to insert himself into the conversation, but coughed into a handkerchief to muffle his laughter. Thaddeus, however, was quick to bounce back – he had caught sight of Jesse, where he lingered beside Mal.
“And I haven’t seen you in a dog’s age, either,” Thaddeus went on, gesturing towards Mal as he released Angie’s hand. “Mal, wasn’t it? And I’m guessing this must be your son I’ve heard so much about, right, Stefan?”
Stefan’s blue eyes narrowed, his hackles raised at Thad’s attention towards both Mal and Jesse, but he said nothing in response just yet.
Mal had just enough time to avert his eyes and clear his throat in place of a laugh. Angie’s smooth antics almost made up for the prickling tenseness of the moment. Almost. He jutted his chin as briefly as he’d been addressed and resisted standing a bit closer to Stefan: despite only catching a glimpse of his profile, he could tell he was already on the defense without having to say a word. Something only the trained eye could see.
“Well,” he interjected into the silence, hopefully diverting Thaddeus’ attention, “could say th’same ‘bout these two gents with you.” He nodded at Ricky and Avery in turn, his gaze sliding carelessly by way of feigning disinterest in the former in favour of the latter. “Right-Hand and Avery, right?”
The man in question was already making himself cozy at the nearest mini bar, martini in hand as he sank into a bar stool; long, gangly frame clad in a purple pinstripe suit. Thaddeus welcomed these events whenever they rolled around – they were a rare opportunity to rub elbows and collect secrets where he could.
On Thad’s right stood the redheaded Ricky, leaning up against the bar as he nursed a whiskey neat; though he kept his senses sharp. He was still technically on duty, after all. He stood nearly as tall as Thad himself, and almost as eye-catching in a deep crimson-and-black plaid suit and pale blue tie. He, like Angelica, liked to draw attention to himself in one way or another.
Meanwhile, Thad’s son Avery sat to his left, trying to sink into his own seat and become as invisible as possible. His thick, curly dark hair helped to obscure his gaunt face, and he had opted for a simple, albeit slightly too big black suit and tie to further blend into the background. He held no drink, having a different substance entirely in the back of his mind.
Despite their proximity, Thad’s thoughts and focus were far from his son. Instead, his beady blue-green eyes scanned their surroundings, searching for one person in particular – and soon enough, he found him.
Entering the hotel, Mal’s gait slowed. The hotel lobby spread out before them: boasting dark wood walls and floor, sconces shaped like oil lamps, decorations and fixtures carved or stamped with Celtic-inspired designs, sweeping domed windows, and, for some reason, an enormous stag head mounted above a jarringly contemporary fireplace in a far corner past the bar. Various men and women loitered in small groups throughout, the men all in suits of one cut or another and the women in dresses - none, Mal was relieved to note, that were anywhere near as dazzling as Angie.
Mal thought about nudging Stefan in the direction of the bar by way of avoiding being sucked into inevitably boring conversation, but he didn’t have to, as Stefan seemed to move in that direction on his own accord. He, too, turned, and it became apparent why.
Thaddeus fuckin’ Christoph goddamn Pemberton.
Mal fought down the snarl that wanted to curl across his lips, rubbing his jaw to compensate. The purple pinstripe made him look like the fuckin’ Joker. All that was missing was a green tie. The man beside him, once Mal got past the red-black pinstripe, realized he must be Ricky, given his ginger hair and the fact he was literally on Thad’s right side. Then, on the fucker’s left, slumped who Mal could tell was Avery, his son - the sharp angles of his features gave him away. Either he was in better health than the photo had suggested or he was wearing concealer really, really well.
No amount of concealer could hide the obvious: he didn’t want to be there. Mal felt that. He briefly considered trying to talk to him, yet the thousand-yard stare even from a distance was just unnerving enough to have him reconsidering. Besides, he was supposed to be keeping an eye on Ginger.
Angie gave another bright, sparkling laugh, glancing over at Mal with a pearly smile. “That’s the idea, hon,” she told him, almost wickedly. “I’m used to being a shiny distraction.” As she spoke, Laurence watched her with a fond smile, wrapping his arm a little tighter around her waist as they walked side by side.
Stefan, on the other hand, was still watching Mal. Despite where they were, he briefly placed his hand on the small of Mal’s back as he leaned in to speak softly into his ear. “Relax,” he told him reassuringly. “Everything’s gonna be alright.”
Sighing, Mal felt himself relaxing enough to nod. Everything was gonna be fine. He fell into step with Stefan and Jesse. Whatever happened, they’d be able to handle it. No one was gonna do anything stupid and put their livelihoods at risk.
Except Thad, probably. Where was he? Mal tried to look around inconspicuously for the man in question.
Laurence only brushed off Mal’s quip with yet another roll of his eyes, as Angelica once again chuckled softly. The two of them climbed out of the vehicle, unveiling in full the shimmering silver gown that Angie was draped in as she nigh floated around the front of the car to take Laurence’s arm.
Jesse opened the back door and climbed out first, stepping aside to let Stefan and Mal out next in turn. “I think we’ll be alright,” Stefan replied, a fond smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as the group began to approach the hotel. Despite himself, he couldn’t help but notice out of the corner of his eye that Thad’s car was already parked nearby.
Mal did his best to hold himself in a more relaxed way than he felt. And also not be distracted by Angie’s shimmery dress that was clearly designed to turn heads. He focussed on assessing the hotel building itself, where the doors and windows were that he could see, and subsequently gauge viable exit points. Less due to any sort of inherent strategy and more due to a healthy dose of distrust of everyone else that’d be occupying the building.
“You’re gonna blind everyone b’fore we get in, Ange,” Mal said, lifting his hand to shield his eyes as Angie’s dress and jewellery sparkled brilliantly in the early evening sunlight. Already he was seeing spots.
