Chapter Text
Robby could begrudgingly admit when he had reached his breaking point. Dana had spoiled him.
The break room coffee - once a staple of his terrible diet - now tasted like dirty dishwater. Even scalding hot, with as much sugar as he could stand, he couldn't quite bring himself to drink it.
Abbot scoffed when Robby complained at shift handover. “You’ve gone soft. Do you even want to know how we brewed coffee in the field?”
“I'm sure it was a Hawkeye in M*A*S*H level operation, probably involving dirty socks as filters,” Robby snarked. He was well versed in Abbot's war stories (usually half-bullshit). “But we live in a civilized city, in a half-functional country, and we can’t get decent fucking coffee?”
“Oh, delicate flower! Just get an intern on it, they're all dying for your affection.”
Robby shuddered. “We were never that young and enthusiastic, right?”
“Of course not. But take advantage of that enthusiasm before they get all jaded and screwed up.”
“I won’t ask them to run my errands. I’ll just... get it myself. Fuck's sake.”
“Glad to have been of service, brother,” Abbot saluted. “Thirty minutes and I'm outta here, whether you're fueled or not.”
Robby gave him the finger as he walked away.
Dana - the light of his working life - was taking a much-needed sabbatical. After the attack by that asshole of a patient, after the trauma of Pittfest... well. She deserved the time away, and then some.
But Robby missed her. He missed her attitude, her assertiveness, her care for every single staff member on shift. How willing she always was to be a sounding board or a supportive shoulder. How she made the trek to the staff cafeteria and always brought him a coffee too.
“On the house,” she would say as she slammed it on his workspace.
“Sure thing,” he would reply, slipping the running tally of money into her purse every few weeks.
The other doctors and nurses asked why Robby was special. “For good behavior,” she said firmly.
Robby knew that was a lie. But he didn't ask her for the real reason. He didn’t want to jinx it.
And now he had to get his own, like a common schmuck. Honestly, the short walk to the cafeteria would probably do him some good on most days. He could decompress for five minutes. Maybe even go to the bathroom in peace.
There wasn’t a line at this time of morning. The white walled room was almost empty, only a few night-shift holdovers sitting slumped at the round plastic tables. The radio played music in the depths of the kitchen to keep the staff company.
Two people stood behind the line. Sharon, who had run the food for as long as Robby had worked at the Pitt; and some new kid who looked like Myrna could bowl him over without a second thought.
“Good morning,” the kid greeted. He smiled tentatively. “What can we get you?”
“A triple shot espresso, half dollop of cream, two sugars, extra hot.”
The kid brightened. “Oh! You must be... Dana's friend?”
Robby blinked. The kid flushed red. “That is, uh. She said you might be coming by. While she's away.”
“Do I want to know why I came with a warning?” Robby hedged, digging his hands into his pockets and bracing for impact.
The barista was already reaching for all the right things as he replied. “Not a warning! Although she did suggest limiting your refills. On a, uh, 24-hour schedule. So you don't explode?”
Robby snorted. Rubbed his chin. That was Dana, alright. Looking out for him. “You wouldn’t swap my coffee for decaf when I hit the limit, would you?”
“Never!” He was wide-eyed, offended. “It goes against my ethics.”
“Your... ethics?”
The kid whacked the machine on the side with real force, making Robby jump. The machine grumbled and deposited another shot. “I mean... I take my Baristacratic Oath very seriously.”
That tore a genuine laugh out of Robby. The loud sound surprised them both.
“I must have missed that one. How does it go?”
“First,” the kid said solemnly, “Respect the beans.”
“Dennis! You inhale too much gas from the stove, boy?” Sharon interjected from the prep station.
Dennis, Robby noted. He told himself it was just good manners to know the name of other employees. Even the weird ones that made oaths to coffee beans.
Dennis jumped back into doing his job. “Oh, that'll be... two fifty.”
Robby raised an eyebrow. The board said that it was a dollar a shot. More for steamed milk and the other extras.
“Dana's Discount,” Dennis said weakly. “One time only.”
Robby tapped his card and took the coffee without objection. “Thanks... Dennis.”
*
He came back in the afternoon, weary from another struggle to get a patient admitted to Psych in a reasonable timeframe. And while a triple-shot coffee couldn't fix the American healthcare system, it might be able to stop him from tearing his own hair out.
He had plenty of coins in his pockets for the tip jar to make up for his shameful lack that morning.
Dennis was still at the register, and sent him a little wave when he reached the counter. Cute.
“Jesus, kid. I thought hospo had shorter shifts than medicine.”
“I get longer breaks,” he stammered. “And this is a 24-hour operation.”
“Well, thank you for your service. I'll have the same.”
“You got it.”
It did something strange to his stomach to see that Dennis didn't need prompting on his order. He’d been making it for months for Dana, of course he didn’t need a reminder.
“Should I ask how your shift is going?” Dennis said, eyes darting between Robby and the machine.
“Probably not,” Robby sighed heavily.
“Yeah. Dana always wants an escape from the chaos. We talk about trash TV, mostly.”
Robby instantly saw blackmail potential. “Oh, really? Like what?”
The kid rattled off a bewildering list of shows that blended together in his tired mind. Love on an Island with Blind Bachelors from Atlanta Survive the Traitor, or whatever.
“Can't imagine having time for TV,” Robby admitted. His TV was probably gathering dust. He needed to clean. Or hire a cleaner who wouldn’t judge him. “And I get enough drama at work.”
“High stakes drama,” Dennis corrected him as he rang Robby up. “This is much more... escapism.” He pushed the finished coffee over the countertop.
Robby hummed, tapped his card. Dropped all his change in the tip jar (that looked, amusingly, like a urine specimen pot). “Well. If I ever need recommendations, I know who to ask.”
The barista straight-up beamed.
Robby almost fumbled the takeaway cup under the intensity of the smile.
Oh, no.
“See you around,” Robby said lamely as Dennis moved onto the next customer.
Seriously, oh no.
Just as he never had time for TV, or cleaning, or breakfast- he told himself that he didn't have time for romance. (Ignoring that half his cohort were shacked up or dating. Ignoring the brief time that Collins took pity on him before they crashed and burned.)
He didn't have time for this, and any warm fuzzy feelings for the insanely young and insanely cute barista were seriously misplaced.
So he downed half of the large coffee before he even got back to the Pitt, punishing himself with the scalding sensation.
Cut it out. Keep your mind in the game.
Of course, the entire drink was gone by the end of the hour. Whatever the kid did to it, he was addicted.