"Holy shit," Hook says as soon as he steps outside, the chill biting into his skin even through his hoodie. "Are you sure we're in the right place, bro? There's no way this is Florida."
Joe rolls his eyes at him and turns to look at the airport behind them. "Yeah, kid. It's the right place." Flight issues had kept him from arriving in time for Dynamite, and it'd ultimately just been easier for him to wait and fly out to Florida with Hook than keep going back and forth in the couple days since. Now, though, he's starting to regret this decision, looking at Hook's surly face.
Hook's head drops back and he groans. "Fuck. This sucks." He grabs his hoodie and tugs it up over his head, exhaling slowly. "Glad I packed what I did for the show," he mumbles, trudging after Joe to the car.
"Do I even want to know?" Joe mumbles as he drops into the car and watches as Hook immediately starts poking at the settings to heat their seats up. "Damn, kid, you'd think you were born in the Bahamas and not New York."
"I prefer warm weather because of New York," Hook mumbles, relaxing as he starts to feel the heat coming from the leather. "Damn, I'm just going to stay here until we fly back home."
"You're paying for the gas then," Joe tells him dryly, and Hook shrugs, smirking a little.
Joe's intuition is spot on, of course, and all he can do at first is stare at the thick white 730 hoodie and sweatpants Hook changes into once they arrive at the arena. "Oh for fuck's sake," he mumbles, rolling his eyes when Hook looks up at him.
"What?" he asks, though by the look on his face, Joe can tell he already knows.
"Well, at least I won't have trouble spotting you out there." Joe groans and finishes wrapping his fists, stretching his fingers out to make sure it isn't too tight. "Gotta promo to shoot before the match, see you two out there." He flicks at Hook's hood- smirking as he glowers at him and re-adjusts it- and claps Shibata on the shoulder before heading out. They want the element of surprise to really get the upperhand on Christian and his crew, so Shibata and Hook are to stay back until something happens that leaves Joe on the backfoot.
It works as planned, if a little earlier than any of them expected. As soon as Christian, Nick, Kip and Shayna make it to the ring, they all start to corner Joe, but he remains unbothered, giving it a minute- and sure enough, Shibata and Hook make their way out, Hook's clothes almost glowing under the arena lights. Joe chuckles at the look on Christian's face as they exit the ring and the match begins.
Nick is young, but he's good. Joe toys with him awhile, lets him get a couple hits in just to see, but only allows it to last for so long. Christian tries at one point to mess with his leg while he's wrapped around the turnbuckle post, which yeah, is kind of a weak point for him after so many decades wrestling, but Shibata and Hook are there immediately, and he backs up, allowing Joe the opportunity to get back to his feet and regain the upperhand again. Nick tries, even gets a two count, but Joe's experience is always the deciding factor in matches like these, so when he gets ahold of Nick, it's a simple musclebuster and done, Joe watching out of the corner of his eye as Shibata and Hook fight Kip and Christian on the outside to keep them from interfering with the pin.
Hook and Shibata bail on beating up Christian and Kip immediately and he exchanges a quick hug with the both of them before they watch the Patriarcy stumble up the ramp. It feels good to be back in the ring, to finally give Hook the upperhand against them after months of watching this nonsense carry on.
Sins of the father, indeed.
-x
A long, hot shower feels good after the chill of the arena, also working out some of the soreness in his muscles after the match, and Joe sighs as he finishes drying off and pulls some clothes on. He flicks the bathroom light off and enters the main part of the hotel room he's sharing with Hook for the night before he flies back to New York and Joe to California, eyebrows raising as he finds Hook sprawled out on his stomach on the bed to the left, staring down at his phone.
"It was so fuckin' cold in the arena," he grouses. "And you're not even here to keep me warm."
"I'm sorry," Orange says, and Joe has to bite back a groan as he walks over to his bed, trying not to pay too much attention to their saccharine video call. "Rocco and I miss you too. I may make a special breakfast if I wake up before your flight lands."
"Don't worry about it," Hook says. "You need your sleep. I can pick somethin' up on the way home for us."
"Hmm," Orange says thoughtfully. "Pancakes?"
"Sure, whatever you want," Hook says, smile obvious in his voice. "Can I see Rocco one more time?"
"Of course."
Joe glances over in time to see the puppy curled up against Orange's side, fast asleep, before turning his attention back to his luggage, trying to be prepared for the early flight in the morning. He's tired of airplanes and airports and connections, looking forward to just going home for a couple days and relaxing until he has to do it all over again for the next round of shows.
Hook's call ends and he puts the phone aside, not moving for a few moments, before he rolls over and looks at Joe. "Hey."
"Hey." Joe sets his suitcase back on the floor and sits on the edge of the bed, examining Hook. "Everything alright?"
"Oh, yeah. Just... you know, his neck's still kind of messed up after that match with Hangman. Though, I guess it could've definitely been worse." He pauses, a distant look in his eye, and Joe suspects he's thinking about Christopher Daniels and the state Adam Page left him in to lead to his retirement.
"Well, I guess he can't complain too much," Joe says. "He gets to stay at home and get fussed over by your mom, right."
Hook shrugs. "I guess. We're just, uh, ... We've gotten used to traveling together. Like, the longest time we didn't this past year was because of the fireball thing, but. You know. That was me at home and him on the road. And he worked it out with Tony so he'd be there for me with my eye appointments and everything. This is different."
Joe hums. Scoots back and leans against his pillows, thinking about it. "Yeah, it's not easy, leaving people back home. Especially when they're hurt. But maybe it's a good thing, you know?" He catches the look Hook shoots his way and says, "before you get pissy, I'm just saying. Cassidy's held a hell of a schedule for years now. That whole International title run, and everything since then. If anyone's deserved a break, it's that guy."
He sits quietly for a few minutes, then shrugs. "I'll be honest, as much as I hated being held up at home, watching things move on without me, in the long run, I know it was probably a good thing. Gave me some time to recuperate, and not just from what that dumbass Jericho did, but just from... everything. Mental and physical. You stay in the business long enough, the miles really build up quick and sometimes before you even realize it. If you want real longevity, you gotta take the breaks where you can get them."
"I guess I haven't really thought about it like that," Hook muses. "I hated the month I had off, but it did help in a way. To refocus on things, come to a couple of decisions." His hands flex as if he's still, in a way, searching for the title belt that's no longer there. "Hopefully the time off helps Orange too."
Joe nods. "Well, all you can really do is be there for him, and let him come around to things on his own time. It'll work out."
"Yeah," Hook says quietly. "Thanks, bro."
"Any time." Joe reaches up and shuts the lamp off, both of them settling in to sleep.
After a few minutes of peace and quiet, suddenly- "Did he have anything to say about your obnoxious as hell dayglo hoodie?"
Hook groans. "Goodnight, bro," he says pointedly.
Joe cackles. "Goodnight."