The Bolt from the Blue (Working Title)

Chapter 8- The Morning Rush

For their second date, John took Sam to a bar he knew in the town. It was loud and garish, with strange pictures on the wall and mis-matched furniture. John caught Sam staring at a scribbly red drawing and asked, "What do you see?"

Sam turned to him. "Is it a Rorschach?"

"No, just incredibly vague."

Sam smiled. "A roadkilled crow." He took a step back and stood on his tiptoes to try and see it from John's perspective. "And you?"

"I see a local artist taking the piss." He handed Sam a drink.

"I've got an exam tomorrow."

John's eyes widened with apology and he took the drink back.

"Oh, sorry. Do you need to go?"

"Nope. As my dad always said, take tests drunk." He swigged from his glass, "He never got his driver's license."

John raised his bottle, "Here's to being better than our parents."

Sam clinked his glass, "One can only hope."

Sam wasn't sure how much he'd drunk; he also hadn't paid for a drink in a good long while. He'd say that John was trying to get him drunk, but in reality he was trying to get himself drunk.

"What time is it?" John asked, his words slightly slurred.

Sam didn't look at his watch, "One seventeen AM."

Something was bothering John, but he couldn't quite tell what. It was something about Sam's clothes. They were...wrong.

"I have an exam tomorrow." Sam reminded no one in particular.

"Good luck with that." John's gaze remained fixed on Sam's shirt.

"My eyes are up here." Sam giggled a little, pointing at his face.

"But your tits are down here," said John, prodding his date gently in the chest.

"If you're expecting tits, I think you're gonna be sorely disappointed." Sam swayed slightly from side to side as he spoke. John enjoyed the motion of it.

And then he realised. "You're wearing a blocker."

A red light flashed through Sam's fuzzy brain. "What?"

"You're wearing a blocker." Join pointed at it, although his finger refused to stay still. "Doesn't that hurt?"

Alarm bells blared in Sam's head and he tried to affect nonchalance. "No. It's fine."

But John was shaking his head, "I've read that that's really painful."

Sam smiled and tried to compose himself, in spite of the wine coursing through his veins. "Don't believe everything you read."

John wasn't listening, "why would you wear that?"

"It's like yours, it's sewn into my shirt."

"I buy these shirts special." In actual fact, John was supplied Blocking Shirts by work, but he wanted Sam to think that he bought his own clothes. "Why would you wear that?" He repeated.

Sam tried to think of a brilliant explanation and came up completely empty. "Oh, fuck." He stood up and looked around for the exit. "Why did I think I could date a detective?"

"I'm not a detective."

Sam spotted the door and pushed back his chair.

"Where are you going?" John knew the fun had suddenly drained from the evening, but he wasn't sure why.