Chapter Text
The hiss of the steamer was like music to Desmond's ears. He couldn't say barista was ever his dream job, but it was close enough. Making coffee was an art, at least, it could be. And as with any art, there were always those who didn't appreciate it.
One of them had just breezed through the door on his cell and joined the line. Shaun Hastings, rich British bastard who worked many floors up, had been a thorn in Desmond's side for years for no reason except that he never, ever, ordered coffee. Tea, every time, usually coupled with a complaint about how terrible this American "sludge" was. Originally Desmond had almost thought he was cute. And Shaun had too, apparently, because he'd slid his card across the counter before insulting him by ordering tea. But now they were both aware that the best relationship was quiet friendly antagonism.
Shaun tugged on his pin-striped vest and adjusted his tie with a sharp, deliberate movement. Sliding into line behind a woman in a sensible pencil skirt, Desmond watched Shaun look up at the counter quickly, mouth twisting as he saw who was working today. If Shaun had at one time viewed Desmond as no more than a coffee jockey, by now it was clear he genuinely disliked Desmond, and probably spent his spare time imagining ways of getting him fired. Desmond grinned. Nothing broke up the monotony of slinging lattes quite like some good ol’ fashioned workplace hostility. Not that he and Shaun were colleagues. Shaun would probably be furious at the mere insinuation.
As the line moved up Shaun pulled his phone out and answered a call. Desmond watched his already irritated expression turn to one of genuine anger. Clearly it wasn't a good news phone call. Maybe his snooty rich boy toy broke up with him. Not that Desmond had ever seen him with one, but he was imagined that was Shaun's style.
He almost dropped a latte trying to overhear what had Shaun's British panties in such a twist and then he decided to just give up and mind his own business. Sure, eavesdropping privileges were one of the best perks of the job (he knew gossip from four different law firms) but every perk has its limits. Besides, from the way Shaun kept running a hand through his smug blonde hair, it was probably something dry and sad, instead of scandalous and juicy. And there was no fun in that.
"What do you mean deported? I'm from fucking Britain I'm not about to bomb the country. We made you." Shaun closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. Desmond watched him cast his gaze around, and then, suddenly, lock eyes with him. Desmond fumbled with a lid, spilling foam over the counter. "Hang on-- hang on--! If I'm about to be married-- does that change anything?" he heard Shaun say. Desmond quickly cleaned up the mess and slid the last drink across the counter. Shaun stepped up to take their place, phone still pressed to his ear. Desmond leaned on the counter, propped up on his elbows. This week he'd replaced all the in house tea with off brand Walmart garbage as a joke, but he was regretting it a little, seeing that Shaun was already in a yelling mood, and his face was already blotched with angry color.
"I'm-yes he's real! Here. I'll put him on now!" Shaun got a frantic look in his eye and shoved the phone to Desmond. He mouthed furiously, clasped his hands together and flat out begged-- well mimed begging. Desmond stared at him in horror, but only for a moment. He'd been handed the phone on childhood prank calls enough times to know you never let on if the previous speaker was lying.
"Baby, who am I talking to?" He asked, just loud enough that it could be heard by the person on the other end, cradling the phone between ear and shoulder as he started making what was truly going to be a shitty cup of tea.
Shaun sagged, mouth falling into an almost-smile before seeming to catch himself. "The bloody immigration office-- they don't believe we're about to get married. They’re threatening to send me back to the UK in a few weeks." Desmond slid over his tea. Shaun eyed it dubiously.
"Uhh, do you guys need a pic of the ring or something? My email? You wanna call my parents?" Desmond asked. He held back a laugh because Shaun, perfect hair and glasses Shaun who dares complain about Desmond's hot drinks and never has so much as a wrinkle on his suit, has dug himself into a hole he's never getting out of, and Desmond got to watch him drown. It's like divine retribution. He handed the phone back and told Shaun, "He wants to talk to you again."
As Shaun took the phone back and pressed it to his ear, Desmond plucked his cloth from under the table and went to wipe down the other counter, to make it seem like maybe he wasn’t eavesdropping.
"I... Sure I'm sure we can meet sometime. If it's just procedure I understand," Shaun ground out. "Yes, I'm free on Thursday-- Hang on a moment." He turned to Desmond, "Des, darling, are you free Thursday to have lunch with the immigration people?"
Desmond, ever the foolish opportunist, silently rubbed his fingers against his thumb in the universal, "Not unless you pay me, Shaun darling," gesture.
Shaun glared over the counter so hard Desmond was afraid one of the steamers would catch fire. His lips tightened and he nodded sharply before lifting the phone to his mouth again. "You're in luck, Des gets off his shift right before that." He scrawled an address down quickly and hung up, seeming to sag like all the strings keeping him up were snipped at once. Desmond watched him take a gulp of tea and then have to make a genuine effort not to spit it right back out. "What the fuck is this, Miles?"
"Only the best teas here," Desmond drawled, grinning. "I hope you understood that I expect to be paid if you want me to lie to some-- if I heard correctly-- immigration officer? People actually go to jail for that you know."
Shaun set the offending tea on the counter carefully, and took a long breath in through his nose before he spoke. "And I hope you understand I'm not going to pay for that tea." He took another deep breath and smoothed his tie. "I will, however, pay you for you services rendered in fake marriage. Name your price."