Title: Caffeine clumsiness Mark put out a hand to stop the man falling on top of him. Unfortunately, the laws of physics didn’t extend to the coffee in the man’s hand, which kept coming, the contents expelled by the tight grip the young man had on the cup as he tripped. ‘Ow!’ Mark leaped up as the hot liquid spilled down his shirt, soaking him. Added to that, the young man dropped across him as he landed, pushing him back against the 50’s style metal-framed seat he had happily occupied until ten seconds earlier. Mortified, the younger man scrambled to his feet, his face as red as the leather seat he found himself nose-to-nose with as he fell. ‘You okay?’ Mark asked, concerned more with making sure the younger man wasn’t injured than mopping the brown stain from his pale blue shirt. ‘Oh God! Look at your shirt. I’m so sorry. Let me…’ Mark shook his head – he had revised his estimate of the kid’s age to under twenty – as the younger man tried swiping ineffectually at his chest with a handful of paper napkins. ‘It’s okay. Are you hurt?’ ‘Um, no, oh man, I don’t know what to…’ Mark smiled. ‘It was my fault. I had my briefcase in the gangway. It could have been worse.’ A lot worse. You could sue me for any injuries… Mark stopped the thought suddenly. ‘You’re bleeding. I think you hit your head.’ The young man’s shaky fingers went to his temple. ‘Oh no…’ For a second time, Mark was forced to grab the kid as he slid to the floor. The crowd of people around them were staring at him, Mark realised, as he lifted the kid upright, holding him until his eyes fluttered open. ‘Hey.’ ‘What…where…’ ‘You passed out.’ Mark looked up. ‘Someone get me a cab please.’ He looked back down. ‘You okay now? Think you can stand up?’ He lifted the kid to his feet, offered him a white handkerchief to hold against his temple and they waited until a voice from the doorway told him the cab had arrived. ‘I got it, thanks.’ Adam said, suddenly incredibly self-conscious. The man standing protectively at his side was, he guessed, mid- to late-thirties. His pale blue shirt and dark blue suit pants were stained with the large cappucino Adam had been carrying only a short time earlier. But he seemed less angry than Adam had been worried he would be. Lawsuits and depositions flashed through his mind. He half-expected the guy to have called his lawyer while Adam had been out cold. Mark stood by the cab door, a hand on the frame. ‘Yeah right. You hit your head. You passed out. You’re not leaving by yourself. Come on. Get in.’ ‘Georgetown please.’ Mark leaned forward to make sure he could be heard above the reggae music blaring from the radio and was thrown back as the cab driver pulled sharply away from the kerb. Settling back, Mark asked: ‘What’s your name kid?’ Mark didn’t miss the flash of anger in the younger man’s eyes, quickly hidden. ‘Adam. Adam Lyons. I work on The Hill.’ ‘Mark Cullen. Me too.’ ‘You a Congressman?’ ‘No. I’m assistant to Senator Donaldson.’ ‘Wow.’ Mark couldn’t help his smile. ‘Hey, I like that reaction. Wanna go again?’ Adam laughed. ‘I just started in the Whip’s office. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.’ Mark lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘I’m not usually allowed out in daylight. Wayne’s worried I might…’ ‘Spontaneously combust?’ Mark smiled. ‘Yeah. I’m really a vampire.’ Adam smiled. ‘Just another blood-sucking Republican, huh?’ Mark nodded. ‘Yup.’ He looked out of the window. ‘Next left please.’ He called to the cab driver. ‘How did you know where I live?’ Adam asked, frowning. ‘You live out here too?’ ‘Yeah. Holland Apartments.’ Mark shook his head, smiling. ‘2203.’ ‘1203.’ Adam said, frowning, not sharing the joke. ‘And you like the Comedy Channel.’ Adam nodded. ‘Yeah. How did you know?’ ‘You have the apartment under mine.’ ‘You like Mozart.’ Mark nodded, slightly surprised that the younger man was able to identify the pieces of music he liked, which were not the composer’s more popular works. ‘Yeah.’ He opened the door as the cab pulled over, paid the fare and waited for Adam to climb out. ‘Look, I really am okay now. Thanks for the ride.’ Adam said, hoping his tone was polite but firm, but not really caring. ‘You got a first aid kit in your apartment?’ Mark asked. Adam didn’t need to give the question much thought. ‘We have potato chips and old copies of the Post. I’m pretty sure that’s it.’ Shaking his head, Mark punched in the combination for the front door. ‘I have one. Come on.’ ************* While he waited for Mark to change and find the first aid kit, Adam looked around the apartment. He wondered if the guy lived here alone, or, as he did, shared with three other people. He was shaken from his thoughts by a shout from the bedroom. ‘You okay in there. Not gonna pass out again?’ ‘Nah. That was just to make you feel sorry for me.’ ‘Feel sorry? I thought I’d killed you.’ Mark called. ‘I’ve got a tough head. Three older brothers, you develop a thick skull.’ Mark laughed. ‘Two older sisters, you have to work hard at resisting organising tea parties for Barbie and her friends.’ Adam laughed too, then looked up as Mark came back into the room, changed from his suit into sweats and carrying a green plastic box. ‘Okay, let’s see what we got.’ Adam let Mark lift his floppy fringe out of the way, the blond strands stained red with the oozing blood which trailed down his temple once the cotton handkerchief was removed. He flinched as the antiseptic wipe stung the small open wound. ‘Sorry.’ Adam hissed as Mark laid a couple of steristrips across the tiny gash. ‘Almost done. Head wounds always bleed way more than they need to. It’s nature’s way of making sure they get cleaned out of any germs.’ ‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’ Mark asked between winces. He was trying to work out a way of moving his eyes so he wasn’t looking directly into the dark brown eyes of the man leaning over him without moving his head. He decided it would just look stupid, and stopped trying. ‘Nah. I was just trying to distract you with my bedside manner. There all done.’ He stood back and looked down at Adam. ‘You should call in sick the rest of the day.’ ‘Yeah, right. Like I can tell them what happened.’ Adam said, embarrassed at the idea of recounting his clumsiness. Mark picked up his phone. ‘What’s the number?’ Adam tried hard to remember a number he’d only ever heard a few times. Mark dialled, then waited while he was connected to the Whip’s office. ‘Hi. This is Mark Cullen in Senator Donaldson’s office. You have an Adam Lyons working in your office..? Yeah, well he’s been in an accident. Won’t be in again until after the weekend…no, he just needs to rest up…I will. Thanks. Bye.’ He disconnected the line, then immediately dialled again. ‘Hi Sarah. It’s Mark. Listen, can you cancel my afternoon please. I had an accident at lunch…no, I’m fine…Monday…yeah, thanks.’ He disconnected the line a second time, then turned back to Adam. ‘So, tell me about working in the Whip’s office.’ Self-consciously, Adam swallowed hard. ‘Um, well, I just started.’ ‘You an intern?’ Mark asked, immediately regretting his question as he saw the same flash of anger at the question as he had seen in the cab. In a tone which suggested he was used to the question, Adam said wearily. ‘No, I’m twenty-four. I just look younger.’ ‘So you’re…’ ‘Associate Counsel.’ ‘Wow.’ Mark couldn’t help himself. Smiling, Adam said: ‘You’re right. It’s a nice thing to hear.’ ‘Did you get as far as food at the coffee shop, or not? I didn’t eat.’ Mark said carefully. The kid…he stopped himself…the young lawyer on his couch probably wanted to get the Hell out of his apartment. Adam shrugged. ‘I usually just grab a Danish. But it’s nice to get out of the building and get some fresh air.’ ‘Fresh air? On The Hill? Where d’you find it? You have your own oxygen tank?’ Mark asked teasingly, relaxing slightly as Adam showed no signs of marking where the exits were. Adam laughed. ‘I guess the air’s not all that fresh. But it’s fresher than Soho.’ ‘You’re from New York?’ ‘Yuh.’ Mark’s stomach rumbled loudly and he got up from the armchair. ‘I need food. You okay with spaghetti?’ Still not sure how he felt about being in the older man’s apartment, Adam decided to wait a while longer before making up his mind. ‘Sure. Need a hand?’ ‘You stay right there. Even Republicans can manage to drop pasta into boiling water.’ Adam laughed and settled back into the well-stuffed leather couch. His earlier discomfort at being in the stranger’s apartment had all but gone. Now he was just looking forward to eating food which didn’t come out of a cardboard box or the microwave. 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