It’s almost John’s birthday and in an attempt to plan a surprise party for him, you’ve been sneaking around behind his back all week. Only problem is, you’re 99% sure John already knows exactly what you’ve been up to. So, in a fit of paranoia and desperation you find yourself dialing up your closest confidant (the man who happens to have raised you) in the wee hours of the morning, while also huddled in the depths of a hotel closet.
When Winston, your father (and near king of the assassin underworld) answers the phone, he can’t help but let out a small laugh; He can tell at once what you’re doing -hiding from John Wick- from the very obvious way you’re speaking in hushed tones.
“Hello, dearest,” Winston answers, gruff voiced and pleasant as always, listening for a delayed reply.
“Y/N?,” he asks after a moment of silence.
“Dad?… ,” You whisper almost inaudibly, listening for any signs of John returning. “I can’t talk long.”
“Ah,” Winston says, nodding in understanding. “So, where are we hiding from Baba Yaga, now, child of mine? Huddled in some isolated corner, beneath the bed, or perhaps the cupboard under the stairs?”
You roll your eyes, huffing, a bit agitated, “The hotel closet, if you must know, father.”
“I hope this isn’t going to become a habit with you,” Winston replies.
He can’t help but smirk with the thought: you huddled in the dark, with all manners of coats and dress concealing you from a man who posed no real threat to you, other than being a complete and utter party pooper.
Ah, the things one does for love, Winston thought dreamily.
“I need you to meet me at 5:30, preferably as far away from the hotel as possible,” You say, in an attempt to force the conversation back on topic. “Addy’s going to distract John at the bar, so he can’t interrupt.”
Winston nods to himself, grabbing a pen and paper to jot down the details. “Will you be in need of anything in the meantime? Some assistance perhaps? I can fake a crisis.”
“Any sort of help from the outside would be much appreciated,” You say.
Your words are rushed, as you further explain, “Honestly, dad, there’s only so many different excuses a person can give for running out to finish some random errand before they start sounding completely nonsensical.”
“I’ll send Charon. I’ve been feeling a bit off lately, I’m thinking the flu, perhaps? I would very like to have tea with my only child,” Winston smiles tightly. “You’re welcome, dear.”
“Thank you,” you say, letting out a relieved breath of air.
“I’ll see you at five,” Winston says.
“Five thirty,” you remind.
“Five,” he replies, quite aware of the original time you had proposed, “This way, I know you’ll show up by five thirty.”
A moment later, Winston bids you farewell. You lean your back against the closet door and close your eyes, inhaling a deep breath, as you both hang up. Success, you think, almost triumphant with the thought: Just maybe you’ll actually be able to pull this off without John finding out.
Then you hear the footsteps; they linger outside the door for a moment, as the person guiding them shrugs off their coat and lets out a weary breath. The door soon opens, betraying you and your hiding place, and leaving you to the mercy of a very baffled man.
You let out a small yelp, getting tangled in various items of clothing as you fall backwards and tumble out, spilling onto the floor. You lay there for a moment, stunned.
“Darling, you’re home early!” you say almost manically, meeting John’s gaze as you prop yourself on your elbows and smile at him from where you’re sprawled across the floor.
“You were hiding in the closet,” John says flatly, not one to be deterred.
He raises his eyebrows at you, almost expectantly, as if waiting for an answer -something to explain the circumstances surrounding your bizarre greeting, as well as your behavior.
“Oh, no… that?” You reply, pointing back towards the closet and scoffing dismissively. “I wasn’t hiding, I was just looking for something… I could have sworn I heard one of my coins fall out of my coat pocket. It seems I was gladly mistaken though.”
John nods, completely unconvinced.