Simon cursed himself mentally when he finally checked his phone; The last message from you was over an hour ago asking where he was and then nothing after that. Surely you hadn't gone home with someone, would at least text him and let him know that he'd fucked up and you were leaving the pub.

A myriad of possibilities ran through his head while he drove to the bar and when he walked inside and saw you sitting there, nearly cuddled up to Soap with the other man's arm around the back of your barstool Simon clenched his jaw so hard it hurt. What the fuck were you thinking? Sure it wasn't like the two of you were together or anything but goddamn you didn't have to rub it in his face like this.

He stalked over, bar patrons parting for the hulking man in the skull balaclava like water. Simon was focused only on you, the way you were so close to Soap, laughing and carrying on like the two of you were old friends. He was the only one who had any claim over you and you needed to damn well know that. He remained stoic, coming up quietly beside you to slide an arm around your shoulders in a way that wasn't entirely friendly.

"Sorry I'm late, sweetheart. Having fun without me?"

He tried to sound nonchalant, like he could give two shits who you were interested in but his grip on you told a different story.