After 5

After 5: A Port Draven Short Story

Diego

His vision outright burned. Diego's dark green eyes were more than worn out from the bright glowing text he'd stared at nearly the whole day. Different documents, different fonts. Times New Roman, Cochin, Comic. Fucking. Sans. Did people not understand that one should never use Comic Sans for anything, let alone official documents and emails?

"Someone looks like they've got a case of the Mondays." Diego rolled his eyes before leaning back into his special ergonomically designed desk chair. The only other person in the office this late stared him right in the eyes; not something that most people tended to do when it came to Diego Saint-Jude. It was ironic, really, that his last name came from the patron saint of hopeless cases. S.J. And Smith was one of the most successful law firms in California, despite its location. Port Draven was a small town on the coast. Only about an hour's drive from Los Angeles, but terribly difficult to navigate, considering the town's location on a nefarious cliff. Of course, Diego and Christian had both jumped at the office that had been for rent during their search for a home base for operations. The town was small enough to be comfortable to rural-loving Christian, but close enough to the city for Diego.

"Yeah, yeah," Diego's wicked smirk betrayed his eagerness to just get the hell out of dodge and have a good drink at his sister's pub inspired bar. "Says the man that probably hasn't done a damned thing all day."

Christian flashed Diego that annoyingly charming smile that made most women and men melt, wanting to do anything they could to get a piece of that ass. The older man winced; he could recall more than one occasion he'd had to pretend to be with his partner in a... rather unprofessional sense. Diego had never received so many death glares his entire life.

"Says the man who's trying to keep us here way longer than we need to be." Christian crossed muscular arms over a broad chest. The man enjoyed his share of sporty things. Activities that Diego shuddered thinking about. He was not an adrenaline junkie. At all. The lawyer honestly felt awful for any fool daring enough to try and romantically involve themselves with the junior partner of S.J. And Smith. They would have to deal with way too many hair raising ventures. Sky-diving, river rafting, hand gliding... Anything involving a risk to one's health? Sign Christian up for it.

The only thing he'd managed to talk Diego into trying was an insanely constructed slingshot ride at one of the county fairs they'd gotten free tickets to a few months back. Diego had been drunk enough to agree to the stunt, and had to try his hardest not to vomit during take-off.

"I don't just want to keep us here for no reason," he retorted. "I want to make sure everything's in order. And it's not even Monday, dumbass."

"Oh yeah!" mischievous blue eyes almost seemed to twinkle. "It's Friday! Which means you're just trying to avoid Sargent Hot Ass."

"Christian!" Diego snapped, disbelieving his co-worker's abhorrent attitude. The man just had the knack for inappropriate joking.

"Oh, come on," Christian raised his hands in defense and shrugged, as if he just knew Diego wouldn't actually do anything to him. "You're the one that has me collect anything we need from him; you just don't want to face him. And by the way, he asked how you're doing yesterday; I said we'd be at Tricia's for happy hour today, so come on. To the Smith-mobile!"

Diego instantly face palmed at that insanely idiotic nickname Christian had given his Ford Escape. Of all the damned cars. The man basically drove the Prius of Ford. Diego, of course, had no room to speak of course; he just rode a Schwinn. Ever since the accident that had fucked him up in the head, Saint-Jude had sworn off vehicles. The idea of getting behind the wheel of anything only wracked him with intensely awful anxiety. His palms still got sweaty whenever he rode with Christian. He didn't want to contemplate what he'd be like driving.