#post-shift dinner

Apparently trauma bonding counted as team building.

So there they all were. A long table pushed together at a little family-owned Italian restaurant a few blocks from the hospital, half the day shift squeezed around it while tired conversations drifted between complaints about charting, impossible patients, and whose turn it was to buy the next round of garlic bread.

Reader had somehow ended up next to Javadi. It had started innocently enough.

"You see that new medical drama trailer?" Reader asked while absently tearing apart a bread roll.

Javadi groaned.

"No because why did they intubate the patient upside down?"

Reader gasped.

"THANK YOU."

"The comments were defending it too."

"They were aura farming."

"They wanted engagement."

"They absolutely rage baited."

Reader pointed dramatically. "Exactly."

Whitaker looked up from across the table. "...I understood that one."

Neither of them heard him.

"They're cooked."

"Deep fried."

"Air fried."

"Convection oven."

Reader nodded solemnly. "Microwaved."

Javadi put a hand over her heart. "You're so right."

By the time everyone's meals arrived, the conversation had evolved. Or perhaps devolved.

"...No because imagine explaining skibidi toilet to someone from the eighteen hundreds."

Reader snorted into their drink. "They would've burned us."

"They would've burned you."

"They would've burned us both."

"Fair."

Reader leaned back. "Actually...lowkey deserved."

"Highkey."

"No cap."

"No cap."

Mateo looked between them. "...I'm starting to lose the plot."

"You lost it twenty minutes ago," McKay informed him.

Reader picked up a chip. Held it thoughtfully. "You ever think about how Robby has negative aura when he hasn't had coffee?"

Javadi nodded immediately. "But after coffee?"

Reader's eyes widened. "+1000 aura."

"He lowkey locks in."

"He does."

"He actually locks in."

"He might be him."

Reader slapped the table. "WAIT."

"What?"

"...Robby is him."

Javadi stared for a second. Then immediately burst into laughter. "Oh my God."

"He actually is."

"He IS."

Across the table, Langdon slowly lowered his fork. "Are we supposed to know what that means?"

"No," Mel answered quietly. "...Neither do they."

Reader and Javadi were still laughing.

The waiter came over.

"Everything alright?"

Reader looked up. "Yeah, king."

"...Thanks?"

The waiter walked away looking deeply confused.

Dana pinched the bridge of her nose. "Please stop calling strangers 'king.'"

Reader looked offended. "I'm spreading positivity."

"You're spreading something."

Javadi suddenly looked at Reader. "...Wait."

"What?"

"...Remember the dress?"

Reader immediately sat up straighter. "The blue and black one?"

"The WHITE AND GOLD ONE."

Reader grabbed Javadi's arm. "YOU'RE A WHITE AND GOLD TRUTHER?"

"I'VE BEEN SILENCED FOR YEARS."

"I KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING DIFFERENT ABOUT YOU."

Whitaker whispered to Santos, "...What dress?"

Santos whispered back, "...Don't."

Reader took a sip of their drink. "...Imagine explaining Vine to Gen Alpha."

Javadi sighed wistfully. "They'll never know."

"They'll never know 'road work ahead.'"

"I sure hope it does."

"The avocado..."

"..."

"...Thanks."

"I say that daily."

"So do I."

Reader looked emotional. "You're literally my Shayla."

"My what?"

"My Shayla."

"...I'll accept that."

"You should."

By now...

The entire table had gone quiet. Not intentionally. There just wasn't much point trying to contribute anymore. The two of them had entered a conversational plane that nobody else seemed capable of reaching.

"...Bro sold."

"He fumbled."

"He absolutely folded."

"Negative aura."

"Generational crash out."

"Type shit."

"On God."

"Actually insane."

"Lore accurate."

"Cinema."

"Ate."

"No crumbs."

"Period."

"And I oop—" Reader wheezed.

Javadi was crying laughing.

Neither of them had any idea why anymore.

Dana slowly looked around the table. "...Can anyone translate?"

Silence. Mateo shrugged. "I got about...thirty percent."

Whitaker frowned. "I understood 'coffee.'"

"I understood 'Robby,'" Langdon offered.

Mel quietly took another bite of pasta. "I think they're just happy."

Everyone looked at her. She shrugged. "...The words don't matter."

Reader looked over. "...Queen."

Mel smiled despite herself. "...Thanks."

A comfortable silence settled over the table for all of three seconds before Reader leaned towards Javadi again. "...You think Abbot thinks he's cool with the kids?"

Javadi didn't even hesitate. "That's giving delulu."

Reader snorted. "He'd absolutely say 'How do you do, fellow kids?'"

"He absolutely would."

Reader suddenly straightened. "Oh my God."

"What?"

"We should teach him one phrase."

Javadi's grin slowly spread. "...One really bad phrase."

Reader mirrored it. "...One really bad phrase."

Across the table, Dana watched the identical expressions bloom across both your faces. She'd seen that look before. Usually right before a practical joke. "...No," she said immediately.

Reader blinked innocently. "No what?"

"I don't know yet." Dana pointed between the two of you. "But whatever the two of you are planning...no."

Reader looked at Javadi. Javadi looked back. Neither of you said a word. You simply nodded in complete understanding.

Dana groaned. "Oh, that was worse."

"What was?"

"You didn't even speak."

Reader smiled sweetly. "We're just on the same wavelength."

Javadi nodded. "Chronically."