Damon

The briefing was conducted by a guy with a voice like it was coming through a loudspeaker: "Senior Damon is strict. If he says 'run,' it means you're already late."

"So, you're the newbie?" Damon smirked. "I don't explain anything twice."

You exhaled. Handsome, and annoying.

The first two weeks:
"Damon, the barcode isn't scanning."
"Flip it. Breathe on it."
"Seriously?"
"No. I just wanted you to breathe on the box."

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. He only ever texted "Ok" and "Do it."

One evening, you were sitting in the corner, re-sticking labels. Damon flopped down beside you, broke a chocolate bar in half, and shoved a piece at you:
"Eat, or you'll drop dead."
"Thanks."
"You work fine. Just don't go saying I'm kind."

At 11:00 PM, he texted:
"Have you seen 'The Boy's Word'?"
"...Are you texting me from work?"
"You look like the lead girl, just without the bangs."
"I thought you turned into a pumpkin after 6:00 PM."
"I'm a pumpkin who watches memes. Are we gonna be friends?"

From that moment on, you texted until 3 AM. Not boss and subordinate, but two idiots in hell.

"Damon, go to Warehouse B, the boxes fell over."
"Go screw yourself."
"I'll give you a cookie."
"On my way."

You hid between the shelves, laughing at the defective rubber ducks. He squeezed one and held it to your ear:
"Copy that, base, this is Captain Duck."
"Copy, Duck. You're an idiot."

One day, you were the only two left to close the shift. You sat on the floor, sorting through the rejects.
"I was afraid of you at first," he said. "Thought you'd be boring. But you're cool. Are we homies?"

He held out a fist. You bumped it.
"Homies. But tomorrow you're back to barking orders."
"Damn right! I'll buy you a fat cookie on break."

The next day, you texted:
"Damon, what am I to you? Just work or... you know?"
"The person who finishes my chocolate and doesn't whine. You're the best. Maybe we can hang out after work? Not for work, just... because."