Work Text:
Emily had always romanticized coffee shops. Ever since she was a tiny little thing, way before she was even able to stomach coffee, Emily spent a lot of time with a cousin who worked at as a barista, and she grew to love the atmosphere of coffee shops. There are vivid memories of her coloring for hours at the table closest to the counter — her cousin occasionally checking on her — and gathering compliments from strangers as they passed by with their drinks in hand. Another memory of falling asleep curled up in a booth while her cousin closed up the shop, being carried to the car and breathing in the comforting smell of ground beans that clung to her cousin’s cardigan.
Even in middle school and high school, when she was too old for a babysitter, she still frequented the shop and soaked in the sights and sounds and smells while doing homework. Late into her sophomore year of high school, the shop started an open mic night, and Emily stopped by every Thursday night to hear local musicians and cover artists perform. They weren’t always good, but they added another layer of charm to the shop, and she started coming in with a notebook in case she was hit with any inspiration for lyrics.
It wasn’t long before she was sitting up on the small stage, singing her own songs.
When she gets the job at a coffee shop just down the road from Barden her freshman year, Emily is stoked. She learns within an hour of training that being behind the counter is a drastically different world from sitting at a table, and that coffee comes in too many different forms, and that customers can be pretentious assholes when it comes to customizing their orders. It’s a lot to learn and orders come fast and everyone is so demanding but Emily loves it.
“Isn’t it a lot of work?” her roommate asks after Emily returns from her first shift and just throws herself on her bed to stare at the ceiling, still wearing her work uniform. “Do you get like, a lot of coffee snobs?”
“A few,” Emily admits, shrugging. “But most of them are just Barden kids, so it’s not so bad. It’s the regulars and the overworked moms that you have to tread carefully around.”
But only a few days into the job, Emily can feel that this is the right kind of place for her to work at. She’d picked up on the menu quickly (despite not having even tried half the stuff on it), learned to handle the most difficult customers, and even memorized a few of the regulars’ names.
It’s not long until her manager gives her more shifts throughout the week, and Emily thrives in her packed schedule. Sometimes, she goes straight from class to work to Bella’s practice and right back to work, collapsing on her bed close to midnight, but there is literally nothing she dislikes. Except maybe a couple of her classes. But even those are bearable.
A handful of her floormates visit her at the shop from time to time, and Emily also recognizes quite of few of her classmates. They all smile and wave when they recognize her, but nothing could prepare Emily for the Bella who casually strolls in one day.
Beca approaches the counter and is already starting with a “Hi, can I get a —” before she even sees Emily.
“Hi!” Emily bursts out, excited beyond joy.
“Oh, hey.” She shoots her a surprised grin. “I didn’t know you worked here.”
“Yeah, it’s, uh. Pretty recent, actually. What can I get you today?” Emily asks, and her smile drops a little when Beca laughs. “Did… um. Did I say something wrong?”
“No, no. Not at all,” Beca chuckles. “It’s just that your customer service voice is the same as your normal voice. Very typical of you.”
“‘Customer service voice’?”
“You know. Like, the polite voice you use when you have to deal with shitty customers but you can’t be an ass about it?” She clears her throat a little and pitches her voice high. “What can I get you today? Oh, sorry sir, we’re actually all out of that. I’m sure we’ll have more tomorrow. Will that be all for today? That will be $38.96.”
“What? That’s an absurd amount to pay for coffee.”
Beca shakes her head slowly. “Don’t ever suggest treating the Bellas to Starbucks after rehearsals.”
“Is that like, a thing?” Emily asks, touching a self-conscious hand to her throat. “Should I be speaking in a higher voice?”
“No, that’s what I’m saying. You’re just so naturally polite that you don’t even to adjust your tone.” She smiles softly, and Emily’s stomach does backflips. “Seems like you’re perfect for this job.”
“U-uh. So, um. What can I get you?” Emily asks, trying not to wince at her stumble.
“Just a large coffee is fine. With two splashes of milk.”
“Oh, sorry. We’re actually all out of that. I’m sure we’ll have more tomorrow.” Beca narrows her eyes playfully and Emily can’t help but giggle. “Kidding, kidding.”
Beca leaves her change in the tip jar and waves as she leaves the shop with her drink, and Emily feels her heart swell up. She just had a full conversation with Beca! And she didn’t make a total fool of herself!
After that, more of the Bellas start to stop by the shop on their way to and from classes. Emily doesn’t know all of their names yet, but she manages to recognize most of them. It doesn’t help that some of them, like Stacie and Fat Amy, like to mess with her and give her false names to write on their cups, laughing good-naturedly when Emily greets them with the wrong name when she sees them next.
“Sorry Legacy, you’re just so easy to tease,” Stacie says, gently pinching Emily’s cheek.
Emily retaliates by learning every Bella’s name and intentionally misspelling them on their cups. They all think it’s hilarious and start collecting the cups on top of their fridge, much to Emily’s embarrassment. But she loves serving the Bellas their drinks and watching them chat or do homework in the shop, and more than a few times, they stay until it’s time for practice so they can walk over with Emily.
If she’s being honest, Emily misses the feeling of sitting at a table and coloring until her cousin finished her shift, and she longs to join the other Bellas as they roar with laughter over a joke she wasn’t able to catch. But she falls in love with the routine, the separate world of serving instead of being served, the feeling of being a part of something she and the Bellas can share.
And maybe it’s because she’s paying such close attention to the Bellas, but it’s not long before she starts to notice an irregularity with how frequently Beca comes into the shop. The tiny senior comes in waaaaay more often than any of the Bellas but rarely ever comes with them, and Emily can’t really figure out why. At first she thinks it’s because of her. A lot of her floormates only visit the shop when she’s working, so maybe Beca’s just doing the same and coming in to say hi to the freshman.
But then Beca is coming in two, three, sometimes four times a day and Emily gets a sense that she’s not here to see her. Sometimes she’s in such a rush that she greets Emily with, “Hey Em, the usual,” and breezes back out as soon as she has her coffee. When her coworker mutters, “Classic Mitchell,” one day after Beca drifts away with her coffee, smiling to herself, Emily is certain that she does this even when it’s not her shift.
“Who, Beca?” Her coworker sounds surprised when Emily asks her whether Beca only just started frequenting the shop. “No, no. She’s been doing this for years now. That girl needs her coffee more than my Uncle Pat needs his Cialis.”
Which is like, a totally gross comparison and Emily would’ve died happy never hearing or imagining that. But then Beca is coming in yet again to order another coffee less than two hours later and her coworker is back to shaking her head.
As the youngest and newest Bella, Emily is terrified of confronting her captain, especially on something that’s not even Bella-related, but when Beca rushes into the shop for the fourth time one Saturday, Emily feels like she should at least point out the frequency of her visits.
“Hi,” Beca says as she approaches the counter, sounding a little breathless. “The usual’s fine.”
“Um.” Emily almost withers under Beca’s firey gaze when she doesn’t immediately punch in the order. “So like. This is your fourth time coming in today. And you’ve ordered a large coffee each time.”
Beca furrows her brows. “So?”
“You also asked for two shots of espresso last time.”
“And?”
“Beca, it’s almost 9pm.”
“Listen, if you’re trying to politely imply that I have an unhealthy coffee addiction, I’m very well aware of it,” she snaps, and Emily almost flinches. Almost.
“Sorry,” she mumbles. “I just thought you should know that you come in here more often than anyone in the whole school or town and I read online that any more than four cups of coffee a day is risk for even the healthiest people, and you’re not exactly the healthiest pers —”
“Em.”
“Right, right. Sorry,” Emily apologizes again. “I’m… I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, I’m only concerned about your dependency on caff —”
“Okay, just.” Beca raises her hands and forms little fists before letting out an impatient laugh. “Can I just. Get my drink? And I’ll be out of your hair. Okay?”
And Emily knows she crossed a line, so she quickly punches in the order. There’s tension between them and Emily can’t help but to try and diffuse it by clearing her throat obnoxiously and putting on a high, peppy voice. “Not a problem, ma’am. Will that be all for today? Your total will be $38.96.”
An exasperated but small smile forms on Beca’s face, and Emily breathes out a sigh of relief as she leaves the shop with her late-night caffeinated beverage.
But then Beca stops showing up to the shop altogether and Emily is absolutely crushed.
She knows with every fiber of her being that it’s her fault. That it’s because of what she said and how she said it. She wishes that she could take back everything about that night, even going as far as to wish she hadn’t even come in to work. They still see each other at Bella’s practices and whenever Emily goes over to their house, but Beca never talks directly to Emily and avoids eye contact.
Emily rehearses her apology over and over in her head until she doesn’t even know what she’s apologizing for. It doesn’t even matter because she can never muster up the courage to pull Beca aside and talk to her, and the more she overthinks it, the dumber she feels. It shouldn’t bother her this much, should it?
But whether or not Beca’s actively avoiding her because of what she said, Emily really misses her visits to the shop. Sure, she stands by her observation that her frequent coffee runs are probably not the best for her health, but she feels a certain longing for that flurry of flannel and headphones striding up to the counter and breezing right back outside. Every time the door opens, Emily finds herself perking up to see if it’s Beca.
It never is, and she feels just a little embarrassed at her unrealistic expectations.
Days pass, and just when Emily is ready to rip her hair out and knock down Beca’s door to apologize, there she is, strolling into the shop just like it’s any other day. “Hey,” she says, and Emily thinks she hears a bit of guilt in her voice. “Sorry I haven’t visited in a while.”
“Oh. It’s okay,” she replies, trying to sound like she’d barely noticed the gaping absence. Beca clearly doesn’t buy it.
She makes sure there’s no one behind her in line and leans against the counter. “It’s not because of you. Well, kind of because of you. But not because of you working here. More about what you said.”
“Beca, I’m so, so sorry,” Emily says before Beca could go on. “I shouldn’t have said what I said, it was totally dumb and inconsiderate and out of line. I-I… I don’t know what I was thinking, talking to you like that, it was so incredibly disrespectful and rude and demeaning and…a-and I totally understand if you want me to crawl in a hole and die.”
“Jesus, Em. What’s with you and crawling into holes?” She reaches over the counter and grabs Emily’s frantically waving hands. “Relax, dude. It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry for anything.”
Emily feels color rising to her cheeks at the physical contact, and Beca definitely sees it because she immediately lets go of her hands.
“So,” she coughs, “I’ve been cutting back a lot on coffee.”
That’s the last thing Emily would have ever expected this little coffee demon to say, and she feels her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline. “O-oh? Oh yeah?”
Beca blows out a deep sigh and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I mean. It wasn’t just you. All the Bellas were constantly on my back about how much coffee I drink and how it’s not healthy and blah, blah. They treated it like alcoholism and made it sound like I was a shittier person when I was on a caffeine high or something.”
“Were you?”
Beca self-consciously rubs the back of her head. “Kinda. Guess pulling multiple all-nighters and relying on coffee to keep me functioning really messes with my charming personality.” She smiles at Emily’s giggle. “Anyway, I kind of realized what an ass I was being when I snapped at you the other night. And I thought it’d be a good idea to cut back a little, so that’s why I’ve stopped coming here.”
“That’s… I mean I guess it’s not great for you, but I’m happy you’re taking better care of yourself.”
“God, it actually sounds like I’m an addict.”
“I mean, you gotta admit that four large cups a day is pretty ridiculous.”
Beca looks like she wants to argue, but she bites her lip down and looks to the side. “Anyway. So, like. You know. I’ll just get this.” She puts a bottle of water on the counter, and avoids looking at Emily’s blinding smile.
“You could get this much cheaper somewhere else,” she suggests, scanning the bottle.
“Well, yeah, but if I go somewhere else to get it, I’d have no reason to come here,” Beca says with a shrug. “Then I wouldn’t be able to see you, would I?”
Emily raises a teasing eyebrow. “Why, Beca. You wouldn’t happen to be hitting on me, would you?”
And she meant it as a joke but then Beca’s blushing, and in turn Emily’s blushing in utter confusion. “I… uh. You… you know they recently made a coffee shop literally on the same block as the Bella house, right?” Beca says, pointing over her shoulder as if guessing the general direction of their house. “Like, back in October. We’ve only been coming all the way to this one because you work here.”
“Oh. I had no idea. Wait, ‘we’?” Emily repeats, her smile growing. “Are you sure you mean ‘we’?”
“Yes, I mean we,” Beca retorts defensively. But then she lets her shoulders sag and looks away again. “Okay, maybe it’s just me , but the new place has terrible service and never puts the right amount of milk in my coffee.”
“Aww,” Emily says, half-joking, half-bursting with genuine happiness. “You like our customer service that much?”
“Well, yeah, I guess.” Beca snatches up the water bottle and chugs half of it in one gulp. “Plus the tall, clumsy barista here is pretty hot, so.”
Emily just stares at her. She stares and stares as Beca turns more and more red. “F-for the record,” Beca stutters, and Emily can’t stop staring. “That was me hitting on you.”
“Oh,” Emily says softly, hoping to God that Beca can’t see her heart beating crazily against her chest like one of those cartoon characters. “Wh-uh. Um. Thank… thank you?” she says uncertainly. Holy crap, her heart is practically going to explode and her stomach is doing a million somersaults.
Regaining some of her confidence, Beca gives her a sly smirk and pushes herself off the counter. “I’ll see you at practice, Emily,” she says, waving as she walks out the door.