Chapter Text
Even when Midas wasn’t staring at him, his daughter seemed to do the job just fine.
Jules sat across from Romeo at the table in Midas’s room as they shared a drink together, a bottle of formerly pricey wine now reduced to the drops that it spilt into glasses as they watched Midas attempt to write with his right hand. With his left hand caught up in a sling, he had been reduced to being able to write with only one hand
It frankly was kind of funny if the man wasn’t already so battered and bruised from fighting with the intruders; his eyes narrowed as he squinted against the light. It was as dark as they could make it before he couldn’t see what he was writing already, and yet he still chose to groan every few minutes as the headache got to him.
Romeo leaned over to Jules, his glass shifting as he pushed it with his elbow. “Has he always been like this?”
“Determined to do everything by himself?” Jules' eyes finally shifted away from him to look at her father as she whispered back, a small smirk breaking across her face, “Yeah, pretty much.”
It had been a disaster a few days ago when some intruders had come to raid the hotel for anything that they could get their hands on. They had been in the middle of ransacking one of the rooms when Midas had found them attempting to stuff whatever weapons they could into a sack — well, that had been what Midas had said when Romeo and everyone else had rushed down to find him leaning against the door, shooting bullets out the open glass door. Despite the fact they couldn’t have gotten far, the thick blizzard had covered their tracks before they could get into a truck.
Apparently, being hit over the head hard enough to cause a concussion, a broken arm and a few bullets wasn’t taking him down.
The pen was dropped again, rolling off the bed as the man cursed. As Midas went to move from his bed, Romeo was faster as he got up from his chair to scoop the pen up instead. As Midas held out his hand to take the pen, Romeo hesitated for a moment, hovering it over the glove-covered palm before sighing, opening his coat to pocket the pen instead.
“You need to rest.”
Midas’s brows dropped as if weighed down by stone, the man staring at him with his palm still open, twitching his fingers.
“Jules and I can run things — I used to run the Society.”
Romeo had to force down his flinch when he heard Jules choke on her drink, the woman spluttering behind him as he could feel her glare deep within his spine and mixed with her father’s, it felt like they were crushing him from the inside out.
“I ain’t running shit!” Jules yelled.
“And the rest still have yet to trust you,” Midas added, the breakfast tray he had gotten from the kitchen sliding off his lap as he shifted his legs. “It’s a big ask for me to ask them to trust your decisions.”
Romeo knew that not everyone liked him fully yet — he did try and kill some of them before and especially their leader, but he had been making progress. “Skye allows me near her now.” Gesturing his hands all over himself, Midas’s face remained unchanged; instead, his fingers came to pinch at his nose.
“Skye has always… been the forgiving type.” There was more that seemed to lay unsaid on Midas’s lips, but he chose not to say it, shaking his head. “They still won’t trust you, not without my say in anything that you do.”
Something hit the back of Romeo’s head, small and with wires. It landed in his collar as he scrambled to pick it out to put in front of his face, seeing the small earbud that dangled between his fingers, the wire disconnected from anything that would be useful.
“We use these when on heists, but you know about that already.” It felt oddly light in his palm, as if it weren’t there, Romeo jiggling the bud and the wire and yet it still felt like nothing gliding along his palm.
Putting the earbud into his ear, he muttered under his breath, “Quite comfortable.”
Jules words filled the room, but Romeo was no longer listening, observing the way that Midas’s glasses slid down the bridge of his nose, the way his hair — beginning to grow long but certainly wasn’t a bad look on him — draped over his forehead, disturbed by Midas’s fingers running through his hair. Even when injured, when disoriented, unable to see the sun or any light in knowing that it would make his head feel like being pierced, Midas was still somehow the most attractive man in the room.
“And it will remain on at all times?”
Romeo blinked himself back into the conversation, listening to Jules hum, “He’ll be able to hear and speak to you at all times; there’s nothing to worry about.”
The glasses came off as Midas leaned back on his pillows, holding them by the frame before he fluttered open one eye to stare at Romeo. “Fine, but only if he wears it at all times unless needed.” Romeo could see the hint of a smile across the golden man’s lips as he finally gave in to the idea.
“About time, if anything, I was worried that Meowscles would be the one in charge.”
Shifting was heard from the other side of the room before a familiar head peeked out from a pile of what Romeo had assumed to be trash. As Meowscle’s eyes stared at them, beady and blinking away sleep, Romeo turned to Midas.
“How long has he been there?”
“No clue.”
Meowscle’s head disappeared back into the pile, Romeo taking the breakfast tray and the documents as he quickly sped walked out the room.
He was not dealing with it now.
“Midas, they’re just staring at me.”
“That is to be expected.”
With Midas on the other end of the connection and Jules watching from the back of the room as Romeo stood in front of the others, holding the letter that the man of gold had drafted as proof of his say-so, it didn’t seem to be enough as Marigold shot to her feet, ripping the letter straight from his hands.
“I should be the one in charge,” the woman with the golden touch muttered, running her fingers through her hair, “I’m the closest we have to a second leader.”
Romeo wasn’t sure if cats could scoff, but the sound that came from a half-asleep Meowscles seemed to be like it. Marigold’s eyes shifted to the cat as she balled up the letter, tossing it over her shoulder as she pointed to the cat.
“You’re just his pet, just because you’re also useful outside of that doesn’t mean you should be able to lead.”
Romeo wasn’t too sure how they seemed to understand the cat, but as he caught the balled-up piece of paper, Meowscles drew out a low meow, seeming to be too out of it to answer in a human fashion, Skye began to giggle from her seat.
“I am not a stuck-up!”
If there was one thing that Romeo had learned about Marigold from their time of being together, she was totally a stuck-up who thought she was better than most — Midas being one of the exceptions.
Rubbing his hand over his mouth as he watched the agents begin to lump together and start arguing about who would be a better leader, Romeo could hear Midas laugh over the earpiece, the sound scratching a part of his brain just right.
“This will be a long week.”