So this will sound a lot like a huge Starbucks ad. Strangely, it's not, because I based it on someone who is very near and dear to my heart (on the other hand, he's pretty much a walking Starbucks ad himself). It's just a little fond drabble about soldiers and their beans of choice.
A huge thanks to Trish who beta'd this and took it from a little idea and fine-tuned it, despite my breaking her heart over the Starbucks. ;) I promise, it'll be the last time.
If you recognize a name, I don't own it! I was just having fun.
Sam was a Starbucks man, to the core.
He remembered fondly receiving his mother's care packages in Afghanistan, the little instant Starbucks Via packets lovingly tucked in with other little treats – peanut M&Ms, a new pair of socks, and a letter from Natalie telling him to "come home safe, or else." Those little Starbucks shots of love were what made life bearable in the Sandbox. Not even the Tim Horton's in Kandahar satiated Sam's need for the bean.
When he got back to Canada after the Worst Day of his Life, Sam's first stop was at a Starbucks in the airport. One of their agreed-upon shared passions, he was pretty sure Matt would have enjoyed the large American espresso Sam bought (Matt had refused to bow to local pressure and call Starbucks' sizes as listed). Sam drank his own Americano, and then Matt's. Matt would not appreciate his beverage going cold. Sam was awake all night.
In the SRU, Sam was somewhat dismayed to find everyone drank Timmy's. Sure, he argued in his mind, Timmy's was a national icon: the commercials were sweet, corny Canadiana, the doughnuts were addictive, and the namesake was a Canadian icon, but if you wanted good coffee, you hit up Starbucks'. His little 'mission to Timmy's' had done nothing to further endear the chain either. It's a big road, my ass, he thought; he'd gone much farther and through considerably more danger for Starbucks.
Then Sam realized why they drank the national coffee: while SRU wasn't gasping for wages, the constant Starbucks was beginning to make a severe dent in his pay cheque. So Starbucks was relegated to the weekend treat, to be picked up on a Sunday morning. For a sweet little while, his Sunday morning treat had included one for Jules as well, despite her eye-roll. Of course, no matter where he was in the city, Sam could unnervingly locate a Starbucks. There was a store two corners down from her house, then one in the other direction that was four blocks away. The nearest store to Sam's house was 10 blocks away, and Jules laughed that he liked staying with her for the convenient coffee.
After Jules told him, thankfully not over the coffee he'd suggested, that it was over, Sam's coffee was solitary again. The solo trips were starting to on him, so Sam bought a little French coffee press and got the Starbucks beans, and that was almost good enough. A little like how being teammates with Jules was almost good enough; it was never the same.
But the day Sam realized that Jules was maybe not as over him as she appeared was the day she walked in, after her return to the Unit, carrying a large white paper mug, the green symbol peeking over her fist.
"The Timmy's not good enough for you anymore, Jules?" Sarge called over to her, smirking.
Jules looked over at Sam ever so briefly and said, "Just felt like some coffee, boss."