Chapter Text
Usually, Ruben wouldn’t take his lunch break – or if he did, it wouldn’t involve leaving the hospital. But the nearest coffee shop was only a five-minute walk away, so he assumed that his absence wouldn’t be too detrimental for the other nurses. Of course, that was if they could cope with their own inadequacy as well, which, Ruben had realised, they struggled to do anyway, but if they could manage it on a day-to-day basis, then they could manage it for twenty minutes without his supervision.
“Look who it is,” said the barista with a grin, leaning on top of the glass cabinet full of cakes, much to the annoyance of his fellow bespectacled colleague. "This is a first. Did the coffee machine in the staff room break down or something?"
Ruben didn’t even bother to check the board. “Regular tea, please.”
The barista huffed good-naturedly. “You do realise that this is a Starbucks? The coffee shop where you can order a hundred different combinations of flavoured shots and enough cream to kill?”
“If that’s your way of saying that you’ve run out of teabags, then I’ll find another place to suit my needs,” said Ruben dryly. "Otherwise, I'm offended that you'd think I'd stake my suicide here."
The barista shook his head, taking his time in searching for a cup and marker. Ruben’s body slowly flooded with heat as he felt the glares of the other customers in line, but the barista whistled nonchalantly, completely oblivious to his discomfort.
“Forgotten my name already?” asked Ruben as the barista started scribbling.
The amused snort that he received in response wasn’t at all reassuring. “Nope. You can go to the cashier now – I’ll take care of this.”
Scowling suspiciously at him, Ruben tried peering over the cabinet to catch a glimpse of what he had written, but the barista swerved away with a mischievous wink and gestured for him to continue onwards. As much as he wanted to demand what the barista had written – intuition told him that he should prepare himself for some humiliation shortly – there were other people in line, huffing to themselves about the hold-up, because their lunch coffee was the only thing worth waiting for in their sad lives, and God help them if they waited an extra minute because the barista was being more of a fool than usual.
He paid the cashier, noting her badge, which only had the word ‘Kid’ scrawled on it. Before he could ask her how she managed to tolerate the other baristas – one man in particular – she waved him on, and he humphed, aware that said man was smirking to himself.
But judging from the lack of spare seats, he wouldn’t be staying. In any case, he was beginning to think that twenty minutes without him at the hospital was too optimistic. He went to pick up some sugar sachets and a stirrer, when he heard a voice call out.
“Hey! Rubik’s Cube!”
He froze. His hand clenched around the sachets. Then he closed his eyes and sighed.
The shop had fallen silent – almost silent, aside from the whispers that repeated the dreaded nickname. Ah, intuition never failed him.
When he opened his eyes, anger burning in his chest, he looked to the unfamiliar barista holding up the cup. The snickers followed him as he made his way to the man - Oscar, polite enough not to repeat the offence in verifying his name but unsubtle in his grin. Entirely unsubtle with his shit-eating, toothy grin.
Sure enough, there was a delightfully infantile picture of a Rubik’s Cube doodled on the side – annotated as well, to avoid any confusion. No wonder it had taken him so long.
“What a lovely drawing!” remarked Ruben. “You’re so talented, honey!” He shot a smile over the counter, where Sebastian had been watching out of the corner of his eye from the coffee machines.
Fortunately, the bespectacled barista overheard and barked a laugh. ‘Kid’ cracked a smile just as Sebastian’s smug expression dropped. “Seriously?” he grumbled. “You’re pulling the pet names out on me? C’mon, I thought we agreed to this.”
“All right, darling.” It was Ruben’s turn to smirk, and just how glorious did it feel.
Sebastian looked as though he was about to swear, but a sharp glance from his colleagues reminded him that he was in front of customers – and still expected to serve them. So instead, he muttered something under his breath, and Ruben took the cup from Oscar before heading for the exit.
But he wasn’t done yet. As Ruben approached the entrance, he turned back and said loudly, “I’ll see you at home, Sea Bass!”
The look of horror was worth the mess in the office that he came back to.