Michael opened the door to the loft with his gun drawn.

After traveling for hours in the back of a cargo truck, getting dumped onto a private landing strip with a burning, blown-up plane, a bunch of corpses, and a kidnap/blackmail victim when he was expecting a simple face-to-face meeting, and spending the next several hours driving back to Miami, he didn't want to be caught off guard if Carla had sent any type of 'welcome home' present ahead of him.

The open floorplan allowed for a quick sweep.

No signs of anything unusual, except for his bed being unmade, and no Sam. He moved further in. "Sam?"

"Up here, Mikey. I gotta say, I didn't expect you back."

He turned, holstering his pistol. "Yeah, I didn't expect to be back either."

Sam made his way down the stairs with a care Michael hadn't seen from him in months. It wasn't difficult to pinpoint the reason, Sam was giving him a full-color picture of it in the pattern of purple and blue painted across his bare chest.

"Oh, Sam."

Sam stopped midway down. "I'll--I'll put on a shirt."

"You don't have to." He'd known that Sam had been beaten for information, but he'd been hopeful that telling Harrick he wouldn't pay for damaged merchandise would hold off the worst of it. There hadn't been any reason for them to keep it up once he'd sold the cover story. All they had needed to do was to keep Sam alive for proof of life.

It had taken him nearly eighteen hours to reach the landing strip and get back. He'd seen Sam injured enough to know the bruises should've been further along the healing process by now--Mers were hardy. As long as they were otherwise healthy, kept well-hydrated and fed, they healed quickly.

Sam had gone through an entire case of water in the car. "Have you eaten?"

Reaching the floor, Sam managed to look in his direct direction without looking at him. "Why? You hungry?" He moved for the kitchen nook and the fridge. "Whatcha' want to eat?

"Whatever you're having, Sam." If he wasn't watching, he might've missed the way Sam's shoulders tightened momentarily. Michael blamed the stress of the past few days for him not clocking it sooner.

He'd had plenty of free time to think about what happened on the boat. Sam had reacted, it had blown the carefully crafted plan to minimize casualties out of the water, but he didn't--couldn't--fault Sam for it. From the moment Michael found him, it had been obvious Sam wasn't fully with him, a concussion seemed likely but there hadn't been time to check.

His fight or flight responses were high, and flight had never been Sam's first choice.

It was not the reaction either of them had wanted, but it had happened. The man had been a drug smuggler and had helped kidnap and beat his friend, Michael, personally, wasn't feeling very grieved over it. He hadn't considered Sam would feel guilty about it.

"There was a chance we would've had to kill him anyway."

"Yeah," he sighed, "I know that, Mike, but I shouldn't've e--Either way, he's dead, we're here. What happened with your meeting?"

He could ignore the question and push, if it was bothering Sam this much, it didn't matter, but there was a blackmail victim sitting in Sam's car outside in the Miami heat. Not the loft was much better, but he probably shouldn't leave him out there alone too long. "It didn't go as well as I'd hoped."

"Do they ever?" The question came, as Sam started digging through the fridge again.

"No, seems the people that burned me want me for a job. For now, that's all I got."

"Does it pay? Want a beer? Or a yogurt to tide you over until I get somethin' going?"

"Yogurt." Michael went to get a spoon once Sam handed over the blueberry yogurt. "It's more of a "we'll kill you if you don't do it" type of thing." Watching Sam pull out some vegetables, he added, "Make enough for three."

"We inviting Fi?"

"No, I got some computer tech waiting in the Buick. They want me to help him steal some data."

Sam perked up. "You brought back the Buick?"

"Yeah..." He cringed as Sam forwent his preparations to go look out the window.

"That's great, Mikey. I was gonna ask, since I'd really hate to lose it so soon and... all..."

He didn't need to join him to remember how bad it looked. "About that, it's gonna need a little work."

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

Sam drummed his fingers on the Carlito's bar as he waited for their drinks--a beer for him, a water with lime for Mike--in celebration of a job done. They had the stolen data, Jimmy and his family were out of danger, and Fiona had apparently come to her senses and decided to stop trying to talk Mike back into a relationship. Personally, Sam wasn't placing bets on that lasting, but it'd be nice to not have her throwing him dirty looks every time she came over and couldn't talk to Mike alone for a while.

His gaze landed on the crossword puzzle the woman next to him was working on, her own drum beat coming from the pencil she was tapping in thought.

Sam licked his lips, eyes running over the hints. "I think four across is 'beets.'"

She startled, looking up at him. When he didn't say anything else, she smiled and filled it in. "I think you're right."

Those drinks were taking forever. "Looks like a tough one."

"A little, but I'm getting through it." Her eyes traveled back onto him and roamed in a way that made him uneasy when paired with the flirty smile she was giving him. There were no laws against looking, but that didn't keep him from making a quick retreat back to the table where Mike was waiting once he got their drinks.

Sometimes, it still surprised him how easily humans took him for one of their own. These days, it seemed to happen even more often. Maybe it was a sign of how unobservant the average human was, and he was still used to dealing with ones who were trained to notice things like slightly off gaits and to check necks for gills. Or maybe he just wasn't what they pictured when they imagined a Mer and they didn't think they had to.

Whatever the cause, while it was nice not to be looked at with suspicion, it got awkward when they wanted to flirt. Some of them were real lookers and he wouldn't mind except he didn't want to go getting someone in trouble, especially when they didn't know just what they were inviting.

She caught his eye as she left Carlito's, sending him a smile and wave. Sam politely waved back, getting Mike's attention before he started showing him a picture Jimmy had sent. Then his phone started ringing.

Sam sat back, sipping his beer, Mike answered.

"See how that worked out? He's happy, we're happy, you're happy."

He gave Mike the side-eye. Must be Carla on the line.

"Or you'll kill me." And suddenly Mike was looking around, and Sam snapped back to attention. "Yeah, just one thing. You said we'd meet. You promised, I believe."

Mike's expression changed. "Oh shit." He threw himself out of the chair and towards the street.

"Whoa, Mike," Sam was already halfway up himself, "what happened?" He stopped when Mike came back, going straight for the bar. "Uh, Mike?" Was this something that called for something stronger than water?

He had the crossword clenched in his fist and dropped it in front of him. "She said to thank you for the help."

"That was Carla?" He pulled the crossword over. 'Enjoy the puzzle. I'll see you soon.' was written, printed above it in all caps.

Sam let out a breath. Well, that put the flirting in a different light.