He bounced on the ball of his feet.The hard leather of his tight shoes rubbed against his heel.This was a disaster on all fronts.Completely unprecedented, at that.He had never forgotten about an appointment before, never failed a client.He refused to start today.
He speedwalked as fast as his aching muscles allowed, pushed through huddles of tourists bumbling along the bridge like no one in this city had work to do.
This was all Jack’s fault.If he hadn’t called Eevee, there would have been nothing to fight over, Baz wouldn’t have run into Sami, and he would have had enough bandwidth to focus on all of his cases.
He broke out into a jog on State Street, blisters be damned, past the Chicago Theater and the L-station.A stream of people poured out of the entrance, blocking the sidewalk.
“Oh, come on,” Baz groaned and squeezed through a group of White women in yoga pants—his shoulder crashed into something hard.He spun.Cold liquid hit his chest and soaked through his shirt.
Baz gasped a breath and froze to the spot, his hands away from him, his eyes squeezed shut.This didn’t just fucking happen.
Dear god, let it be water.
“I’msosorry, I—Baz.”
Oh, this had to be a fucking joke.
Baz blinked his eyes open, and there he was.Sami-fucking-Adam, still holding the now half-empty plastic cup.Light brown, milky liquid squeezed into the gaps between the ice cubes.
Sami’s smirk widened as his eyes trailed down Baz’s body.“And hello, Mr.Darcy.Damn.Do you work out?”
Thatwas all he had to say for himself?
“Is this some kind of game to you?”Baz spat.
“No, I—”
“Is this Ian’s way of getting me off the case, by having you ambush me all the fucking time?”
“It’s literally just coffee.”
Yeah.Cold one at that.Terrible taste might have saved him a trip to the ER, but it had also hopelessly ruined his brand-new shirt.It stuck to his stomach in one huge brown blob.Some drops ran down the front of his suit pants.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he cursed, searching his pockets for anything that might help, but this was a job too big for his stain removal pen.
”Iamsorry,“ Sami said as if that magically cleaned Baz up.
“Oh, are you?Great, I’ll tell that to the judge!I’m sure they’ll understand why I look like ass in their courtroom.”
Who was the judge on duty today, anyway?Cortez might be too entertained by his mess to feel disrespected—oh god.What if it was Laite?He would never let Baz get away with this without fining him.If he didn’t hold him in contempt altogether.
“Here, let me.”Sami pressed a single tissue against the stain.His fingers were pleasantly warm against the dripping fabric, gentle with their dabs.Baz swatted them away.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping!Calm down.”
How was a singular tissue dissolving against his shirt helping?Now he had a brown blob and tiny white paper rolls sticking to his stomach!
He grabbed Sami’s wrists.“Stop!It’s one thing to go against me in your own case, but to manipulate my work, myreputation, is really fucking low—”
“I promise you, this was an accident.”Sami’s eyes glided down on him.“But, on the bright side, this might earn me a raise.”
“How is that good news?”
“I didn’t say for you,” Sami muttered under his breath as if Baz was the selfish one here.Jesus Christ.
“I don’t have time for this.I have to get to court.”He pushed past Sami, strutted down the sidewalk.
