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Night life has never been appealing to Simeon. Too many people, too little space, and a constant cacophony of sound and lights operated by someone whose sole intent in life is to cause permanent damage to themselves and everyone in a three block radius by age thirty-five. Decidedly not the type of place that someone as cowardly as Simeon pretends to be would enjoy, nor someone as paranoid as Simeon really is.
However, despite every single glaring indication to the blatant fact that Simeon hates the club, Bronco still insists on dragging him to a club at least once a month, ostensibly for the pair to have fun together. In reality, their excursions serve for Bronco to get his dick wet with the second nearest redhead. He’s always running off the second some common whore gives him a crumb of attention, leaving Simeon to get back to the circus on his own with nothing more than a hasty text telling him to get an Uber. As if getting into a stranger's car isn’t a nightmare scenario for more reasons than he can count. Every time this happens, Simeon ignores Bronco’s every move ‘till he comes crawling back on his hands and knees, groveling for the attention he's so desperately trying to replicate in the failed bonding sessions.
But the idiot never learns his lesson, so the pair of them are forced to follow a well trodden path while Knight is desperately trying to get two plus two to equal orange. That exact impulse of insanity is what led to Knight dragging Simeon across the entire globe to a resort bar in Miami, Florida at 4:30 pm in the afternoon with the fake president of Zheng-fa’s four closest bodyguards and their plus ones, the sun still blazing in the sky. Apparently, a team under Rook’s watch stopped some bombers before things got interesting, which means the guys at the top and their closest friends get an all expenses paid trip to Miami. All the while the guys who did the actual work might get a 2% raise, …if they're lucky. Not that such office politics bother Simeon, but it serves as yet another button to push, that drives Knight blind with rage for his boss.
Really, the only reason Simeon even agreed to come on this stupid trip was because he is not the type of man to turn down the chance to rack up charges on someone else's credit card. Which is what led him to ordering the novelty light up daiquiri, with half price refills, for sixty bucks.
Scanning over the small crowd, Simeon's eyes quickly find Knight among the bodies. Predictably, he’s dancing with yet another red head, though this time it's a woman much more shapely than Simeon himself. Bronco gets to pretend that he’s finally sleeping with Simeon while playing with an impressive rack. For Christ sake she’s even wearing her hair in pig tails too, it’s just too perfect for Knight.
At least this one's across the entire country, it'll keep her from being anything more than a one night stand de facto.
With a huff and an eye roll, he turns away from Knight’s vulgar display- coming face to face with a well built man in a Hawaiian shirt and a mustache. Something about him stands out, but for the life of him, Simeon can’t figure it out. Likely due to the two and a half daiquiris he’s already had, but it’s not every day he’s out drinking with both trained body guards and a basically unlimited budget.
“Scuse me, is this seat taken?” Asks the stranger in a pleasant baritone, gesturing with a hand holding some sort of dark liquor over ice.
“Looks like you could use company.” He adds on with a pleasant smile.
“No . . . It’s not.” Simeon says, narrowing his eyes as he studies the other man as he sips at his obnoxious drink. Annoyingly, he’s got the top two buttons undone showing off hints of chest hair.
“But I don’t know if I need company.” He tries to answer coldly, but his voice comes out harsher than he intends. Scowling, he slips his drink. The flashing lights reflect on the man’s sunglasses tucked in his breast pocket. Simeon notices the top most button slightly straining against the stranger’s chest and scowls harder.
The man chuckles as he sits on the chair, resting his elbow against the bar he leans on his hand as he sips his liquor.
“Don’t let him ruin a good night for you, Simeon.” The man says with a sympathetic smile. A flash of cold hard panic floods Simeon’s system. He stiffens in his seat as he glares at the man.
“How do you know my name?” Thankfully his voice doesn’t betray his internal panic, rather it comes out a furious whisper. The man has the audacity to laugh in his face.
“Son, relax. Look-” he unfolds the sunglasses and puts them on his face “- it’s me, Rook. How many of those things have you had?”
Suddenly the nagging feeling in the back of his head resolves itself into recognition as he shrinks down in his seat.
“This is my third.” Simeon mumbles shamefully around the straw, eyes glued to the floor as his face burns.
“And when’s the last time you ate something?” A heavy hand finds itself on Simeon’s shoulder.
“Before our first flight, didn’t have time in the layovers.” He says with a half shrug as he sips. The sweetness of the strawberries intensifies as it melts, he scowls, the rum barely keeping the concoction palatable. Rook’s thumb begins to rub circles into the tight ball of muscles at the back of Simeon’s neck.
“Same here. Tell you what, what don’t we order something to share. Might help you recognize the rest of the men.” Rook chuckles as he waves over the bartender asking for a menu and water for both of them. Simeon frowns.
“Travel always makes me dehydrated and well-” Rook says, gesturing with his cup of mystery liquor, “- this certainly isn't helping. Even with all the ice in yours, water might do you some good” Rook says with a shrug as he opens the menu, the hand on Simeon’s neck falling down to the back of his chair. He shivers at the loss.
“So, how does nachos sound?”
“Fine by me.” He says absentmindedly, his attention on the cold spot where Rook’s hand just lay, the arm so close to his waist, and the fact Knight is abandoning him at a bar once again. He sips his drink more to distract himself, to no success as he glances over his shoulder to watch Knight’s pathetic attempts at seduction.
After a few moments something taps him on the other shoulder. He whips round only to come face to face with Rook’s deep brown eyes. The intensity of the eye contact makes Simeon shiver.
“I was serious when I said don’t let him ruin a good night for you. Just because he’s being inconsiderate doesn’t mean you need to pay attention to him.” Rook says under his breath into Simeon’s ear, his thumb rubbing a small circle into the curve of his back. Rook’s finger leaves a burning trail across Simeon’s skin in its wake as he shivers. He covers his eyes, to hide his rapidly reddening cheeks, as he pouts.
“I wasn’t paying attention to Knight! He’s the last thing on my mind right now!” His voice comes out a touch shriller than he meant for it, causing him to curl into himself and scowl.
“I never said I was talking about Knight.” Rook says warmly, sipping his drink with a smug smirk.
“Yes you did.” Simeon says incredulously, as he glares through his fingers at the bodyguard. Rook shakes his head with a laugh.
“No son, I didn’t. All I said is don’t let him ruin your night. Never said who I was talking about. And yet you still knew.”
“W-Well it doesn’t matter. I don’t care about what Knight’s doing.”
“Is that why you’ve been glaring at him like a scorned lover for the past 5 minutes?”
Simeon sputters lamely as he fails to come up with a rebuttal in time, instead having to lean into his pathetic act as he curls around himself, hands covering his blushing face. Thankfully Rook buys it, as he rubs a comforting hand up and down Simeon’s back.
“It hasn’t been five minutes, has it?” Simeon mutters lamely as he slips, swaying slightly in place. Curse the bartender's heavy hand.
“Maybe not a full five, but close to it.” Rook says with a shrug as he sips his drink at a much more reasonable rate than Simeon.
“Well he’s allowed to do whatever he wants,” Simeon scoffs as he reaches the end of his third drink. He pouts a bit as he puts the now empty flashing cup back on the bar.
“Same as you?” Rook asks slowly, his warm gaze intense and studying Simeon’s expression for god knows what reason. Simeon can’t look at the man, searching for anything to busy himself with.
“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be able to?”
Oh I don’t know, maybe the fact the devil and the entire legal system is against you? Or maybe the fact a foreign head of state wants you dead?
Simeon shakes his head to clear his mind and pouts, looking anywhere but Rook’s big pity filled eyes. His gaze lands on his water, which he quickly starts to chug in an attempt to sober up and calm his fiery cheeks.
“Just wanted to make sure he was bein’ fair with you.” Rook says the implications of his statement are lost on Simeon as he blinks at the other man in owlish confusion.
“Now that that’s out of the way, what brought you on this trip, Son?” Rook’s entire face seems to relax as he smiles, his eyes almost brighter. But that might be the setting sun.
Cause I want to waste your employer's money. “O-oh um, I’ve always wanted to travel, and Miami seemed so far away so. . .” He trails off with a shrug, fiddling with the ends of his hair as he glances away from Rook’s smile, the air of the bar strangely warm. Rook nods amiably.
“That it is. Good town to let loose in, lots of party people. Bet that's why the men picked it.”
“You all got a vote on where you went? The president didn’t just tell you Miami?”
“Of course, President Wang values democracy greatly.” Rook says, pride in his voice. Simeon scoffs and rolls his eyes.
Riiight… The guy pretending to be the president of a country really cares about the democratic process. Next you’ll tell me that the police are for the safety of citizens.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
“Those’ll cost you a lot more than a penny.”
“Then how about I get you a refill?”
Simeon weighs his options and quickly, with a glance towards where he knows Knight is dancing with some woman, he sighs dramatically and leans decidedly closer to Rook than is necessary.
“It’s coming out of the same place no matter which one of us asks for it.” Simeon points out with a giggle, one hand covering his mouth coyly, the other on Rook’s knee.
“That may be, but it’s still the gentlemanly thing to do.” Rook says with a warm smile as he leans one arm against the bar, the low lights of the bar highlighting the hints of chest hair cresting the top of Rook’s open buttons. Simeon licks his lips and hums. Rook smirks as he sips his drink.
"Does that really still matter on a trip like this? I mean, it’s not like you’re gonna see any of these people again. Why bother trying to impress them?” The last part slips past his lips before he could stop himself from saying it. Blushing he covers his mouth and sinks down in his chair slightly.
Rook laughs at Simeon and shakes his head. A pair of actions that would normally set his teeth on edge, venom dwelling at the edges of his words, instead makes him feel like he’s at the top of a hill in a roller coaster, about to plunge into the unknown. A deep fluttery light feeling in his core. He scowls behind his hands and kicks the leg of Rook’s chair enough to shake the man.
"Don’t laugh at me!” His voice comes out shriller than he means, he scowls and clears his throat.
“Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to work you up. It’s just… I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard Bronco say the same thing.” Rook chuckles, his eyes almost sparkling in the tiki lights.“It doesn’t matter if I never see someone again, I’ll have to live with myself for the rest of my life and I don’t think I’d be able to look myself in the eyes if I’m the type of man who’s needlessly cruel to someone, just because I can get away with it. Fella in a place like mine could get away with a whole lotta shit, but that don’t mean it’s right to go through with it.” Rook finishes his drink and shakes his head, his face filled with an emotion close to sadness Simeon is too fucked up to fully understand.
“…‘Course that’s never gotten through to him. Damn kid would die on the hill that the sky’s always been green if I said it was a nice shade of blue today.” He sighs and rolls his neck.
“You’re a good man, Rook. How did you even end up working for-” Simeon’s ill-advised question is cut off with a woman’s scream followed by the sounds of commission from behind him.
Rook jumps into action instantly, placing himself between Simeon and the growing crowd circling a presumed fight as he scans the room. Simeon, for his part, bristles at the implication that he needs to be protected, kneeling backwards on his chair to peek over Rook's shoulder at the source of the commotion.
From his elevated vantage point, Simeon sees into the center of the crowd where Bronco, the two other body guards on the trip, and three random men circle each other menacingly. One of the randoms appears to have already taken a hit to the face, if his bleeding temple indicates anything.
“Don’t tell me it’s one of mine.” Rook says warily as he steps to the side away from Simeon, cheeks slightly darkened as he pinches the bridge of his nose. A picture perfect example of tired exasperation mixed with a hint of humiliation.
"Well I could lie to you if that's what you want. It’s three of your guys against three an-angry looking guys.” He squeaks in ‘fear’, as he watches Bronco easily dodge a swing from the bloodied man. Using the man's momentum against him, catches him with a knee to the gut, knocking the wind out of him as he falls to the floor wheezing.
“They may be my monkeys, but this is not my circus. I’m off the clock .” Rook says solemnly as he tensely sits down, his shoulders to his ears. Simeon watches as one of the other bodyguards, the shorter one - Brandy or something, takes a fist to the chin as the taller guard headbutts an assailant earning both of them a bloody nose. Bronco cackles as he swings at the man who just hit his coworker, his ever present ring tearing into the flesh on the attacker's cheek.
“Your monkeys are making quick work of those guys.”
“We are trained professionals.” Rook’s voice is caught between the pride of his team doing well and embarrassment that his team is currently drunkenly fighting random people in a hotel bar at 5 pm on a Thursday.
Simeon watches as a second one of the assailants goes down, this time to the taller of the bodyguards not named Knight, twisting his arm behind his back and pins him face down on the ground. He hums approvingly.
“You should start a fight club, let people pay money to try and fight your men. Bet you’d make a lot of money from guys trying to prove their worth.” Simeon mutters absentmindedly as he plays with his hair, eyes locked on the fight. Knight takes a hit directly to the face before returning the favour to the attacker with a swift kick to the balls.
“Well I would if that wasn’t illegal, son." Rook throws his head back and laughs. "Sounds like a good way for my men to let out some steam.”
Finally, the hotel security arrives and begins to break up the fight. Everyone is pulled away from each other, giving Simeon a perfect view of Knight's heaving chest and bloodied face as he's escorted away from the crowd. Scowling Simeon sits back down, angrily chugging his water. He jumps when he suddenly feels a hand on his shoulder, his scowl quickly falling off his face instead replaced with innocent surprise, perfectly matching his pathetic exterior.
"Relax, ignore them. No one is going to give you shit because he stuck his nose where it shouldn't have been."
"How do you know it's his fault?"
"Not saying it's his fault, more that, drunk men tend to clash heads. Especially if they're young, dumb, and full of cum." He sighs and shakes his head. Simeon giggles at the wording, leaning closer to Rook to hear him better over the voices of the crowd behind them, laying one hand on Rook's arm without looking as Knight is dragged past them.
"And why aren't you jumping at the bit to fight just like your men? You seem perfectly fine sitting here at the bar with me." Simeon tilts his head and smiles as he runs a hand up Rook's arm, fingers wandering along Rook's bicep just inside of his sleeve.
"I have my ways of dealing with my pent up aggression," Rook says, cryptically as his eyes sparkle with mischief.
"Oh yeah? How?" Simeon leans in conspiratorially. Rook gives him a pointed once over and licks his lips, annoyingly making Simeon's stomach flutter.
"Let's just say it involves someone else and a locked door." Rook chuckles conspiratorially as he winks at Simeon.
"And let's just say someone wanted to be involved with your de-stressing, how would that work?" Simeon giggles as he trails his fingertips down the inside of Rook's arm.
Rook studies him for a moment, once again racking his eyes over Simeon's body. However, instead of feeling like a slab of meat on display for the lions, he feels oddly light and airy. The stray giggles slipping from his lips in a natural bout of excitement, rather than forced through by a conniving mind.
Finally, Rook speaks. "Tell you what, once we're done with our food why don't you come back to my room. I'll show you exactly what I meant by that, alright?" Rooks voice drops even lower than normal as he speaks, sending a shiver of pleasure up Simeon's spine as he covers his mouth and giggles.
"Sound like a plan~"
Sitting on the edge of the bathtub alone in his hotel room, a wad of 1 ply toilet paper held to his nose, Bronco Knight fumes.
Not only did Hugh's girlfriend, Eliza, pick a fight by tongue fucking some random on the dance floor, but was Rook talking with Simeon for some fucking reason. Simeon seemed to be getting really fucking close to Rook. As if that man hasn't taken enough from him already. First he takes the promotion and all the glory that comes with it, but now he takes Bronco's best friend? He exhales sharply through his nose as he cracks his knuckles, his knuckles splitting open once again.
What the fuck does he have that I don't? I can do what he's doing but better.
If that's the case, why is Simeon laughing it up at the bar with Rook of all people?
Bronco jumps up and stomps of the bathroom, growling under his breath as he approaches his bed.
Rook's probably fucking with his mind the same way he does the President. Pretending to be concerned for his well being while plotting to take everything that matters to him. Simeon won't even know what's happening until it's already too late.
He's going to get hurt and it's all your fault. You failed to protect your Queen and now your game is going to suck all because you fucked up
He falls face first into his bed and buries his face into the pillow as he begins to angrily mutter.
"I fucking hate him so god damn much. He's only gotten this far by lying his ass off, there's no fucking way Wang should have picked him over me." Bronco whispered voice cracks with anger, as he snarls into the pillow.
"No way Simeon would pick him over me, Rook must have fucking done something to him. Drugged him or something…" No way he would choose Rook over me. A sentiment to pathetic to even voice, yet Bronco still cringes into himself as if he did.
"Simeon wouldn't do that to me? He cares about me?" His self soothing affirmations coming out more akin to a pathetic question asked by a neglected wife, the answer obvious to anyone who hears. Bronco snarls as he sits up and shakes his head, trying to forget the comparison and the fact Simeon is currently eye fucking Rook down at the-
Smack. He slaps himself across the face. A bright flash of pain as his hand connects with his cheek, followed by a deep painful roar of pain as his nose is touched. A moment later he feels something trickle out of his nose.
"God fucking damn it!" Bronco yells as he throws his pillow across the room. It thumps uselessly against the wall and crumples to a heap in the corner as he stalks his way back to the bathroom for more tissues to soak up his pathetic fucking blood. Because of course can't even do something as simple as getting himself to stop thinking about some bullshit without getting hurt.
Stomping his feet like a petulant child, he grabs yet another wad of the disgustingly thin toilet paper, jamming it against his nose with more force than necessary. Ignoring the way his eyes water from the pain, he leaves the bathroom slamming the door behind him to try and soothe his wounded ego. All it does is set his teeth on edge as he turns on the TV to distract himself with trashy television. Maybe if some over hyped actor is screaming at him through a screen, it'll drown out his thoughts.
That'll happen faster if you blackout. The President did say that he's covering all expenses...
With a decisive snort, Bronco grabs the mini bottle of tequila from the mini bar and opens it with his teeth before taking a swig. Coming down from an adrenaline rush and drinking on an empty stomach means Bronco is sloshed before the end of whatever rerun of a pretty boy actor with floppy hair yelling at the camera, while half dressed in a children's show costume.
During a commercial break, at the end of a drug ad, while the TV drones on about near endless side effects of a prescription medication, the wall behind Bronco is hit once. Twice. Thrice, before falling into a steady thumping rhythm. He groans, his head thumping against the wall behind him as he necks the rest of the bottle of liquor.
Great. Now Hugh and Eliza are going at it right next to me. Cherry on top of the shit sundae. How is he fine with her constantly fucking around with other men? Every time I see her she's off shaking ass with some random bastard or sticking her tongue down some poor saps throat while Hugh stares. It's fucking weird. I don't get it. I would be losing my mind if my girl was doing this shit to me.
He throws the now empty bottle towards the trash can, missing it by a long shot and grumbling nonsensically in upset as he leans against the wall.
Can't even fucking throw away my trash right. God, I'm fucking pathetic. No fucking wonder the President and Sim picked Rook over me. At this point… there's no fucking reason for anyone to choose me.
Eliza's voice starts to pick up in volume as it floats through the wall, gasps of pleasure each time the bed frame moves. If he focuses, he can just barely make out Hugh's grunts through the drywall.
Can't believe Hugh lets himself be humiliated like that by his girl. If it was up to me, I would make sure Simeon couldn't even look at another guy, let alone make out with someone else right in front of me.
And yet… I couldn't even stop Sim from flirting with Rook at the bar right under my nose.
Scowling, Bronco stumbles upwards and back to the mini bar. The words on the bottles swim too much for him to really tell what he's grabbing, but he grabs what could possibly be a bottle of wine. Throwing the lid across the room as he takes a swig straight from the bottle, his inference was close enough. Whatever he grabbed tastes fruity, and alcoholic enough to drown his sorrows. And for whatever sorrows he can't drown in booze, gets drown out by whatever superhero bullshit movie is on.
He flops back down onto his bed, spilling the some of the fruity bullshit across his chest and bed sheet as he does so. Ignoring his mess, he turns up the volume on the TV to drown out the sounds of Eliza's world being rocked with explosions and gunfire— to little success. No matter how hard he glares at the TV, his ears still perk up with each moaning whine.
Jesus Christ, these walls are paper fucking thin. How is anyone supposed to relax in a place like this? Can't even take a leak without someone hearing you.
Buzz. His pocket vibrates. Buzz-Buzz. He scowls as he struggles to get his hand into the pocket. Buzz. His fingers aren't bending right for him to grab the phone annoyingly. Everything's annoying. Everything fucking sucks. He has a whole week of this shit to look forward to.
Finally he manages to get his hand around the hand in just the right angle to pull the phone out. Unfortunately he underestimates his own strength and throws the damn thing across the room. It bounces twice before disappearing from Bronco's field of view.
Fuck it. He'll find that in the morning.
He growls wordlessly as he scowls at the TV, necking the rest of the fruity bullshit he grabbed. As he lowers the bottle, his eyes struggle to uncross as he sways in place. Behind him the moaning starts to get louder and louder, till she's squealing as the painting on the wall above him begins to rattle.
The new louder sounds traveling better through the wall. And the movie just ended, it's credits almost silent compared to the sounds of a much better night than Bronco is having. In the relative silence, recognition of the voice hits him like a brick, knocking the breath out of his lungs.
He hasn't been listening to Eliza having her brains fucked out by Hugh. No… he'd been hearing Simeon Saint getting fucked by none other than Bastian Fucking Rook. For the better part of an hour!
Bronco sees red as he snarls in blind rage. He throws the empty bottle of fruity bullshit into the wall across from him as hard as he can, showering the TV stand and dresser with broken glass and bit of alcoholic juice. Turning towards the wall separating Rook's smug fucking face from him, he waits for the sounds of sex to pause. They don't.
In the blink of an eye, his fist is suddenly through the dry wall up to his wrist. Pulling back, he stumbles to his feet.
"Fuck. I didn't mean to do that," he slurs as he takes a teetering step back from the bed, the hole suddenly duplicating and moving as his vision spins.
"President said he's not paying for any damages." He snarls as he clenches his fists.
"God damn it!" He yells into the open air, anger boiling under his skin ‘till he resorts to stomping his foot like a petulant child having a temper tantrum.
On legs like a new born horse's, he grabs his wallet and shoves it deep in his pocket as he storms out of the hotel room. Slamming the door behind him for good measure, he stomps down the hallway to Brody's room. In the blink of an eye he finds himself in front of his door and begins to pound the door like it owes him money.
The door is thrown open by a scowling Brody's brother in law, who says something acidic to Bronco. Ignoring and pushing past the random, Bronco muscles his way into the room. Scowling at his subordination he points an accusatory finger at the man as he sways in place.
"Where is everyone?" He growls, his words slurring together.
"Bronco, dude cool it before you pop a blood vessel. Last I saw Eliza, Dillon, Simeon, and Rook where at the bar when we got kicked out. That's all I know- alright? Now fucking chill out before you get us a noise complaint, alright?" Brody rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, casting a side glance towards his brother-in-law at the mention of being kicked out of the bar.
Unfortunately, Bronco does not in fact chill the fuck out. Instead, he snorts in anger, nostrils flaring as he clenches his fists. So he wasn't the only one who noticed Simeon spending time with Rook.
"Well Eliza's probably got her tongue in some other dudes mouth again. She's such a slut it's kinda pathetic." The brother-in-law, Jason, laughs cruelly as he enters the room properly, crossing his arms over a shirt with the top 3 buttons undone showing nothing all that impressive.
"Come on man, don't say shit like that about my coworker's girlfriend." Brody pleads, cringing at Jason's words.
"It makes everything weird." He concludes, lamely.
"Well it wouldn't be so weird if she stopped slutting around. Her and Simeon, both were just making fools out of you and Hugh, Bronco." Jason says with a shrug.
"Dunno how you two put up with it. I mean if my girl was doin' half of the shit those two were doin', I'd have to leave the place in cuffs after what I'd do to to the guy who think he can take her from me." He smiles and does what he thinks is a dangerous looking pose. The effect is greatly diminished by the bright floral pattern adorning his shirt and the socks with sandals.
"Don't talk about my sister like that. It's gross." Brody pulls a face and shakes his head like a dog.
"Don't fucking talk about Simeon like that," Bronco says at the same time, cracking his knuckles as he stares Jason down.
"Or what, big man? You couldn't even keep your slut of a boyfriend from fucking your bo-". His words are cut off with a crack of cartilage, as Bronco breaks his nose with a shockingly quick punch given his current state. Jason's head snaps back as he's sent stumbling. Touching his nose gingerly he hisses in pain.
"You bastard!" Jason shouts as he charges directly into Bronco, sending the two of them crashing back into the TV stand. The TV wobbles dangerously as Jason punches Bronco squarely in the jaw.
Iron floods Bronco's mouth as he bites his tongue. He spits a glob of bloody spittle in Jason's face as he grabs the younger man's by the skull and head bashes him. Jason falls to his knees momentarily dazed.
Taking the opportunity, Bronco shoves Jason prone on the floor, looming over him. His intimidation is slightly undermined by his inability to uncross his eyes and the fact he's swaying in place.
"Hope you learned your lesson." He scoffs and steps over Jason towards the door. The moment Bronco's back is to him, Jason lunges at his legs sending the larger man toppling down.
His head hits the floor with a dull thud as he grunts in pain as he tries to kick his way out of Jason's hold. Jason, for his part, drunkenly bites Bronco's outer thigh hard enough to break skin as he growls like a rabid animal.
Bronco yells out in pain as he grabs Jason by the hair and attempts to pull the leach off his leg forcefully. All this does is make him bite down harder.
"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" Bronco snarls as he tugs at Jason's skull, his teeth bared like a cornered animal.
His efforts are assisted by Brody, who grabs Jason by the shoulders and throws him off. Unfortunately that effort takes a chunk of flesh out of Bronco's thigh, making the larger man cry out as he curls around the gaping wound.
"Jason you need to chill the fuck out man-" Brody hisses. "- If you get us kicked out we have to pay for our own hotel for a week in Miami of all places. I don't have enough to cover and I know you sure as shit don't either. So cool it." Brody gives Jason a light clap to the cheek as he steps a way from the younger man, looking up at Bronco.
"Oh Jesus Christ, he bit you? Jason, what the fuck man?"
Jason just glares at Bronco as he licks Bronco's blood off his lips. Bronco shutters in disgust.
"You're a couple pawns short of a full set, aren't you." Bronco mutters under his breath as he stumbles to his feet. A drop of blood runs down his shin only to be absorbed by his sock.
"What did you fucking say?!" Jason roars as Brody quickly jumps to hold him back, his reasoning lost on the angry drunkard.
"I said I'm leaving… and don't shoot." He sneers raising his arms in mock surrender as he backs towards the door. He veers directly into the closet door, the handle hitting him in the small of his back. He cries out pathetically before turning tail and running away back to his hotel room to lick his wounds.
Stumbling with the key card, he wipes his nose mindlessly. A bright radiating flash of pain blinds him momentarily, crying out as he reals back from the door. Only to almost immediately trip over his own feet, falling on his ass. His head hits the floor with a dull thud as he curls into himself, covering his vitals as he sits dazed while he growls under his breath like a dog.
He stays there for a long moment, quietly succumbing to some horrific mix of an adrenaline crash, an alcoholic stupor, and plain having his shit rocked a couple times too many in one day. Just before he's about to be lulled to sleep by the spinning of the room around him, he bolts up suddenly aware of the hallway he is laying in. With a new found determination to not pass out drunk and beaten in a busy hotel hallway, he pulls himself to his knees and shuffles to the door.
The new vantage point allows him to unlock the door after only 3 attempts- a minor miracle in his current state. He opens the door, snorting in satisfaction as he stumbles to his feet to enter the room.
"Simeon, you here yet?" He slurs as he leans against the wall for stability, the room in front of him doubled. Though wether that be from head trauma or massive amounts of booze is anyone guess.
When he gets no response, Bronco growls and slaps a hand against the wall.
"Fucking course. Why would you come back here." He spits bitterly, stumbling in a drunken rage across the room towards his bed, and the hole he punched in the wall. Something under his shoes crunches as he stomps but he can't find the energy to give a fuck.
"You fucking picked Rook! Like everyone else fucking does! Hell he's probably giving you a god damn foot rub even! Cause he's just the best fucking man to ever live!" He begins to laugh hysterically, staring directly at the fist hole.
"Life is so fucking easy for him, that he thinks he can take anything from me," he glances towards Simeon's empty bed. "I thought I had one thing that he couldn't get his greedy fingers into." His eyes start to burn. He quickly looks away, sniffling.
"Why can't he let me have one fucking thing? He's already the President's right hand man. Why does he feel the need to take Simeon too?" He snarls at the hole in the wall.
"It's not fair!" He shouts as he points an accusatory finger at the wall. The wall, unremarkably, doesn't respond.
"What does he have that I don't?! I can do everything he can-" his one sided shouting match is cut tragically short when he starts to cough.
A horrible retching cough, one that leaves him choked and gagging on the air. Great heaving coughs that taste like blood and botanical liquor. He claws desperately at his throat as he continues to gag uselessly as he stumbles towards the desk chair.
Bronco retches one last time unproductively as he puts his fists together on his stomach before quickly doubling over the back of the chair, ostensibly gut punching himself. Bronco gags violently as he coughs. He repeats the maneuver once, twice, three times.
Something bloody red comes flying out of Bronco's lips. It spats wetly against the desk. He only has a moment for confusion before a wave of nausea suddenly washes over him. He falls forwards into the desk, one hand on the edge of the desk the other on his head as the room spins dangerously around him.
Bronco vomits on the desk. Twice.
He collapses into the desk chair, turning his back to the mess he just made. He whines as he swipes the back of his hand across his mouth. On the back of his hand is a streak of bright red. Licking his thumb he goes to rub the bloody smear, only for it to crumble and roll under his finger.
"The fuck?" He mumbles, bringing his hand closer to his face. It takes a moment for his eyes to refocus on his hand, but when they do his confusion only deepens. On the back of his hand rests a — crumpled and broken — flower petal.
He whips around to look at the pile of vomit. Instead of the mess of partially digested food and blood he expected, what sits in front of him is a pile of curled flowers wet with blood. Still disgusting, but much more confusing.
He picks one up in his fingers. He feels the wet blood and the delicate soft petals. He can smell the floral scent just under his iron blood.
The walls around him seem to close in as Bronco fails to stay upright.
He collapses into a bloody heap on the floor and passes out.
He comes to, some time later with a pounding headache, the taste of blood and flowers on his lips, and the sunrise beaming directly into his eyes.
Sitting up with a groan, he rubs his head. Only to find a bandage applied to his forehead. Directly where he used it to headbutt Jason. He looks at his hands in shock, only to find those too are bandaged. He gets up from his pillow and blanket on the floor— neither of which where there last he was aware— and checks the desk for the pile of bloody flowers.
Nothing.
"What the fuck?" his voice hoarse and scratchy.
"Bronco?" A familiar tired voice mumbles behind him.
Bronco spins around on his heel to see one Simeon Saint asleep atop his blankets facing towards where Bronco previously laid.
"Bronco you're up?"
"Y-Yeah. I'm up. Listen Si, did you-"
"Can you close the curtains? It's really bright." Simeon interrupts him with a yawn as he rubs his eyes
"Oh, yeah of course." Bronco replies automatically, feet moving to follow the request before he can think about it.
"What did you want to say?" Simeon asks, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.
"Uh, when you got in… did you see anything weird on the desk?" He rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat awkwardly. The tickle doesn't go away. Bronco licks his lips. It tastes like the summer breeze.
"No? Why should it have? Did I miss something?" Simeon squeaks in fear, covering his eyes and pouting.
"Never mind," Bronco sighs and shakes his head. "What time did you finally get in?"
"Oh, I came back at like 8, but you were already asleep." Simeon shrugs.
Bronco frowns. Something about Simeon's story makes his head throb. His throat itches. He clears it. No success.
"Whatever, I'm going back to sleep. Don't wake me up unless it's an emergency." Bronco grumbles as he crawls under the blankets. Strangely he's shoeless. He was definitely wearing them last time he was aware.
"Of course~ I wouldn't never interrupt your beauty sleep." Simeon snickers.
If only he knew the half of it.