horror--wh0re

[horror--wh0re]

Coffee Pot and Kettle

CHAPTER 1

EVENTUAL SERIES

Pairing: S.H./fem!healthcare!reader

Warnings: KitchenBoy!Steve, swearing, pining, flirting, slow burn, fluff, use of Y/N but not often

WC: 833

AN: This is my first real fic and fic series, so please let me know if you want more! Always open and happy for suggestions and criticism. 

Masterlist - TBD

It wasn’t the best job. Plain and simple. If you were being honest with yourself, you only took the job because your mother wouldn’t get off your back about having a ‘big girl job’ with benefits. Eventually, after a few months, the job grew on you.

Activities Assistant, your name tag read, right below your first and last name along with the terrible colored logo of the company you work for. Not only was it a job completely outside your future career goals, your specific job was to entertain residents in the dementia and alzheimer's unit of a nursing home. A very less-than-glamorous job, one that would bring pity and a few cringed looks from anyone close that you told when you first accepted.

Whatever.

As the months went on, you actually got into the swing of things. Most of the residents were very sweet when they weren’t having one of their episodes. Some would participate in the activities you would do, like when you would play a very preschool version of soccer or used trivia flashcards. Others would just be content to watch as you built some crafts or made them all friendship bracelets. The only real difficult parts to deal with were when a resident had passed. You already lost a few within 6 months, two of them you had really bonded with. But you still had responsibilities and other residents to entertain and care for.

The next resident you couldn’t help but attach yourself to was Ms. Baker. Due to the disease, and the fact that you won over her affection, she often thought you were her youngest and favorite daughter. ‘Debbie Jean’, she called you. Even though it was no where near being your name, you liked it. It meant she was happy to see you.

“Ms. Baker, would you like some coffee?” You asked her every morning.

“Sure! I’m not goin’ anywhere.” She chuckled, as if talking about a shot of hard liquor. Her phrasing made you smile as you went to pour from the pot you got from the kitchen’s breakfast pot. “Make sure there’s sugar in it, Debbie!”

“Yes, Ms. Baker.” You nodded. That woman needed about 10 packets of sugar per mug, or else she said she couldn’t taste anything.

The main thing you noticed with residents, not just Ms. Baker, is how much coffee they actually drink. Some could drink tea too, but it wasn’t the beloved (decaffeinated) coffee. Either they’ve forgotten how much they already drank or they don’t care, one small coffee pot in the morning was definitely not enough. Ms. Baker alone could empty that pot in less than two hours, and you had a whole day to fill.

“Sharon, I’m gonna get some more coffee from the kitchen.” You alerted the unit’s Nurse of where you were going. She nodded, moving to go and sit with the residents. They couldn’t be left alone, just in case. Carrying the empty pot from earlier, you headed down into te building’s basement where the kitchen was hidden.

Opening the door and heading in the kitchen, the steam of the dishwashers and cleaning machines warmed your face. Not that you’d see, but it added a rosy tint to your cheeks. It would have been relaxing if not for the loud bashing and clanking of plates being stacked and boxes being moved. The kitchen employees looked too busy to even notice you, and you didn’t want to be rude. You debated turning around and coming back in a few minutes when a voice greeted you.

“Can I help you with something, hun?”

You turned to the source, and your mouth went dry. Your eyes locked with friendly and enchanting brown ones.

“Uh.. coffee? Can I get some– it’s for the residents, upstairs.” You felt the need to explain yourself.

“Of course!” He smiled again, making your stomach twist. He gently took the empty pot from your hands and walked over to the machines to dispense you some more.

“I’m, I’m Y/N, I’m from the Activities Department.” You introduced yourself. Sure, you just saw a smoking hot guy within your reach, but you weren’t rude. “I’m always on the dementia unit.”

“That’s so cool!” He turned his head to you as he talked. “I’m Steve. Obviously, I’m slavin’ away in here.”

“Right, I see.” You let out a small, quiet laugh. He was dressed in a simple white T-shirt and dark pants, fluffy brown hair whisping out from the underside of his cap. The outfit was nothing special, but it somehow added to the boyish charm you were getting off of him. All too soon, your pot was full of hot, fresh coffee for your people.

“Alright, here you go!” He handed it to you and offered another award-winning smile.

“Thank you. I’ll see you around.”

“You will!” He promised. You walked away and out of the kitchen with the teensiest bit of pep in your step, in a much better mood than this morning.