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It takes Emily approximately twenty seconds to melt out of her shock and lunge for her own keys.
She’d let Beca storm out on her before. She’s not letting that happen again.
Emily rushes out into the empty hallway, her shoes only half on, bent at the collar beneath her heels. Beca has a lengthy head start and an unusually fast pace for someone so short; she’s nowhere to be found, but Emily’s pretty sure she’s not insane enough to take the stairs.
Sure enough, she turns the corner to find Beca getting into the elevator at the end of the hallway. Relief floods through her: she’s not too late.
But then Beca starts jabbing repeatedly at the panel — presumably on the 'door close' button — as soon as she sees Emily approaching. Spurred on by indignation at such a blatant show of avoidance and also by irrational fear of losing Beca forever if she doesn’t stop that elevator, Emily breaks into a sprint and barrels down the hallway at the closing doors like a bull charging a matador.
Her arm just barely makes it through the gap in time; the rest of her body, though, smashes full-force into the doors, rattling them in their frame and knocking the air right out of her lungs. Winded, the entire right side of her body numb from the impact, Emily slips in and slumps against the wall as the elevator re-closes its doors and starts its descent.
“Ow,” she breathes out.
Beca doesn’t say anything, huddled in the corner, pinching the bridge of her nose with an exasperated shake of her head.
The elevator lets out a nearly-inaudible hum as it starts its glacial descent to the lobby, with Emily in one corner, trying to ignore the throbbing in her arm, and Beca in the other, clearly trying to disappear into the wall.
Overbearing silence fills the car, and while Emily wants to do everything possible to delay the elevator from reaching the lobby so she can get Beca to calm down before she runs off again, she also can’t stand this frankly suffocating tension in the air.
She’s at a complete loss at what she should do. What she even wants to do.
Because yes, she wants to be mad, maybe even pissed off, at Beca for saying all those awful things. For hiding her feelings behind hurtful words and snide indifference, for needling relentlessly at an innocent slip-up, for letting it all explode out in a messy and incoherent rush. For continuing to run away from her problems.
But she also wants to reach out and close this rapidly-widening gap between them. Bridge this chasm with a hand on Beca’s shoulder or preferably something more, like a hug. Because god, after this horrendous week, even after all the harsh comments Beca had thrown at her, all she really wants is to hug Beca.
She doesn’t, though, because Emily probably won’t be able to keep it together if Beca shies away from her touch. So they stew in the silence for the entire, tortuously slow ride down, not exchanging a single word. Beca hasn’t moved, her head bowed and her eyes closed, intentions completely unreadable.
Is she going to bolt as soon as they reach the lobby? Would she let Emily follow her out? Where would she even go?
Emily’s heart starts pounding as the bright red numbers count down from 5, mentally bracing herself and holding her breath as it finally reaches ‘L’ and the doors open to the lobby.
Beca still doesn’t move. She doesn’t even acknowledge that they’d arrived.
After a beat, the doors close again.
Without a floor selection, the elevator remains in place, giving the moment an extra stillness that further solidifies the silence between them. Emily kind of wants to select a floor — any floor, even the garage — to get this car moving again, but the control panel is on Beca’s side and she’s not sure how she’ll react to Emily suddenly stepping into her space.
The only thing left to do is for her to use her words.
“Look,” Emily starts tentatively, her voice uncomfortably amplified in the tiny space. She's terrifyingly aware that she could easily say the wrong thing and cause Beca to explode again. “Me and Jake have nothing in common. I, uh. Couldn’t tell you one significant thing about him. We literally bonded over one thing, talked about one thing the entire time we were shooting. Wanna know what that was?”
Unsurprisingly, Beca stays silent.
“You,” Emily says. “Just…you, Beca. How amazing you are. How talented, how smart.” She pauses. “And yeah, okay, also how intimidating you are. How you like, terrorize everyone at the label.”
Beca doesn’t exactly laugh, but she lets out a quiet huff and shakes her head ever so slightly.
“You’re right: I got used to relying on you,” Emily continues. “It was weird and kind of scary, not having you there with me on the set. Hanging out with Jake made it better because he was like, I dunno, a connection to you, I guess. Whenever we were talking about you, I didn’t…” She trails off, embarrassed. “Um. I didn’t miss you as much.”
Slowly, as if waking from a dream, Beca opens her eyes. She still doesn’t look in Emily’s direction, but she doesn’t seem to be as angry or ready to fight as she was before.
Taking that as a good sign, Emily presses on. “I know it’s frustrating. I’m not exactly thrilled that the marketing for the video is based on some dumb speculation that me and Jake might actually be a thing, but neither of us were in the position to say no.”
With a wry smile, she adds, “Maybe things would be easier if we’d just gone ahead with the gay version of the duet.”
Beca visibly bites back a smile of her own.
“And yeah, all that gossip, all that speculation…it’ll suck. A lot. But come on, Beca, you of all people know that’s how this stuff works. And that none of this makes you any less important to me. I mean, look, Jake might have the spotlight on my first music video, but you! You’ve been a part of so many more important firsts.”
Emily holds up her fingers to count them off. “First apartment. First real job. First single, first EP, first album. First — well. First noise complaint.” She pauses, knowing that Beca wouldn’t be able to resist rolling her eyes at that one. Emily grimaces and looks down at the floor. “And first…fight,” she says quietly. “Those have to count for something, right?”
She glances at Beca, gauging her reaction. Her throat feels dry from all the talking she did, but if it keeps Beca here by her side and not running off to god knows where, Emily’ll keep this up for hours.
She nods towards the doors. “Did you still want to go?” she asks.
Beca sighs. Closes her eyes again.
And eventually shakes her head.
Emily crosses over to the control panel, relieved, and hits the number for their floor. The elevator hums to life again, ascending so slowly that it’s hard to tell whether or not it’s moving at all.
Before Emily can retreat back to her corner, Beca stops her with a gentle grip on her arm. She freezes, surprise rooting her to the spot, waiting for Beca to say something. She doesn’t, still, but after a long moment of hesitation, she tugs Emily towards her, pulls her in closer and closer, step by step, until she’s sliding her arms around Emily’s waist and pressing her face against Emily’s shoulder.
Emily automatically sinks into the embrace without question and wraps her arms around Beca, hugging her tight. They fit perfectly in each other’s arms and it feels right, so right that Emily’s smiling before she even knows she is. It’s like coming home after a long day, the way holding Beca instantly makes her feel better.
“I’m sorry.” Beca’s apology is small and muffled.
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” Beca says sharply. Then, in a softer voice, she repeats, “It’s not. That was so shitty. I was so shitty.”
She pulls back, hands drifting down until her fingers hook onto the pockets of Emily’s zip-up hoodie. She absently tugs on them and avoids eye contact. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I mean, okay like, please don’t sign any fake documents ever again, but…I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry.”
Still fidgeting with Emily’s pockets in a manner best described as ‘unbearably cute,’ Beca chews on her lower lip as if working out what she wants to say next. Emily tries not to stare but their faces are so close and there’s really not much else she can focus on.
“I’ve never been good at dealing with this stuff,” Beca admits. “You know, like, feelings. And lately, there’ve been a lot of them. For you.” She finally meets Emily’s gaze, shy and uncertain. “Like. Real feelings. Of the…the romantic…variety,” she stumbles, blushing and cringing a little at her own words like she can’t believe she said something so stupid.
Overwhelming happiness fills Emily’s chest despite Beca’s stilted delivery. She’s had an inkling, sure, but she’d never really expected it to be confirmed, certainly not in this flustered, awkward, un-Beca-like way. Emily’s smiling so wide her cheeks start to hurt, and watching her, Beca mirrors her and smiles too, albeit with way more embarrassment.
“Don’t make it weird,” she says defensively.
“I’m not!” Emily says, equally defensive. “If you must know, I’ve kinda been waiting for you to say something. Well. ‘Dying for you to’ is more accurate.”
“I know. I mean, I figured.” Beca resumes tugging on Emily’s zip-up. “I was just…I’m just…” She takes a deep breath. “Scared, I guess.”
“Of what?”
“I dunno. Losing this. What we have,” she mumbles. “Losing you.”
“You won’t.” Emily says the words firmly and with absolute conviction, but Beca grimaces.
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“Yes, I do.”
“How?”
“Because,” Emily shrugs. “We’re like…like peanut butter and jelly. Great separately, great together, great on all types of bread. Even of the romantic variety. And whatever happens, we’ll still be us.”
Though Beca smirks a little at the silly comparison, there’s still a clear sense of disbelief in the way she looks down and shakes her head a little. And Emily knows — after spending months together and learning Beca’s insecurities — that Beca’s doubts aren’t about Emily or about them as a couple. As always, they’re about herself.
“Hey.” Emily hooks a finger under Beca’s chin. “Look. If I promise that you won’t lose me and that we’ll be fine no matter what,” Emily says, closing the gap between them and bumping her nose against Beca’s, “will you kiss me?”
Beca goes still. Her mouth drops open a little and she blinks several times, wide eyes searching Emily’s face as her own slowly turns pink, two bright spots of blush blooming high on her cheeks.
And Emily can’t wait — she’s the one who asked for it but she just can’t wait — so she leans in further and presses a kiss to those adorable pink cheeks and feels Beca’s face grow even warmer under her lips. The grip on her zip-up tightens; Emily thinks she hears Beca whisper her name through an unsteady exhale, but she can’t be sure through the roaring rush in her ears.
When she leans back, Beca is flushed all the way down past her neck. Her eyes blink open, dazed, before flickering noticeably down to Emily’s lips.
Giddy from Beca’s reaction and restless with anticipation, it’s all Emily can do to hold herself back from picking her up and covering her face with kisses. “Please?” she prompts, feeling ridiculously bold even though she could realistically pass out any second from how light-headed she’s getting.
Beca smiles, still blushing, and gives Emily the most endearing eye roll as she presses closer. “Okay,” she whispers. Steadying herself against Emily’s shoulders, she slowly pushes herself up onto her tiptoes as Emily’s heart jumps into her throat. “Okay, just. Hang…— ugh, god,” Beca huffs, teetering on her toes. “You’re so fucking…tall.”
Emily laughs. “Do you need me to —?” but then Beca’s surging up and kissing her and she completely forgets her teasing remark.
Beca’s lips are as soft as her smile and just as warm, melting against Emily’s so perfectly it’s like they were meant to kiss all along. The rest of her body goes numb, part of it probably due to shock, and for an eternal second, Emily fully forgets how to breathe.
It’s like a dream. This has to be a dream.
But it’s not, it’s real, the Beca in front of her is real and kissing her with a careful tenderness that Emily’s subconscious couldn’t possibly fabricate. It’s almost too real, the way Beca pulls her even closer, the way their lips move in sync like they’ve done this thousands of times, the way Emily feels her heartbeat stutter in her chest.
Through the blissful haze, she notices Beca wavering against her, losing balance from standing on her toes.
Emily doesn’t know what possesses her to do this, where she gets the courage to do something so daring, but before she can overthink it, she squats down, hooks her arms around Beca’s thighs, and hoists her up off the floor.
“Wh-holy shit,” Beca yelps, legs instinctively wrapping around Emily’s waist, ankles locking at the small of her back. “I-uh. Well, okay,” she says, laughing a little, and Emily is absolutely obsessed with how breathless she sounds. With her flushed cheeks. With her perfect smile. With how her eyes widen a little when Emily presses her back against the wall.
She hasn’t even regained control of her own breathing, but that doesn't stop Emily from leaning in again, hungry for more. Even with her feet off the ground, Beca is a force to be reckoned with; she meets Emily’s enthusiastic kiss with the same amount of vigor, fingers tangling in her hair, nails scraping down towards the back of her neck, lips parting a little to gently nip at Emily’s.
And though the sensation makes her lose her mind a little, Emily determinedly retaliates by taking advantage of the opening to slip her tongue through.
Beca audibly gasps and shudders, thighs clenching around Emily’s waist in a way that makes her knees buckle and almost give out from under her. It’s a complete abandonment of the chaste kisses from before, a shift into something more, something hotter, something needier. Every inch of Emily’s skin is on fire and the heat of it fuels her. She wants Beca, wants her in a way she’s never felt before.
Neither of them acknowledge how the elevator stops moving.
On the very edges of her consciousness, Emily hears the muffled series of beeps through the doors, a familiar announcement that the elevator’s arrived on their floor. And while a part of her is anxious to get out and continue this in their apartment, another part of her senses a bit of uncertainty.
Out of the corner of her eye, Emily glances at the panel above the controls and at the digital number displayed there. It’s still three floors below theirs.
This isn’t their floor. And the elevator’s stopped.
Something in her head clicks together.
Then the doors start to open and there's — god, there’s someone waiting just outside the doors and Emily panics and immediately drops Beca before flying backwards into the opposite wall.
Before them stands a lone teenage girl, busy tapping away on her phone, tinny music spilling out from her earbuds.
She glances between Beca and Emily as she enters, expression bored but also kind of annoyed, like she saw exactly what they were doing before the doors fully opened and she can’t believe that she has to be stuck in an elevator with them. She hits the button for the roof and retreats to the opposite side, staring pointedly at her phone.
Face still burning, now with embarrassment too, Emily closes her eyes and tries to control her breathing. She can’t bear to look in Beca’s direction.
The elevator finally arrives on their floor and they can’t get out fast enough. They bolt out as soon as the doors start to open, hurrying down the hallway as fast as they can without running, not daring to turn around until they’re sure the doors have closed and the elevator’s moved on.
“Oh, my god,” Emily whispers.
“Yeah. Busted,” Beca agrees.
“That was…ugh. We just. We looked like horny teenagers. And she was a teenager,” Emily groans. “I’ve never felt so judged.”
“Oh? Does that mean it’s going on your list of firsts?” Beca teases, bumping Emily’s shoulder with her own. “First time getting walked in on a make-out session by a judgmental teen?”
“Nooo,” Emily moans. “Stop, those are meant to be sentimental! We’ll just leave it as…first elevator kiss.”
“Wow. Still that specific, huh?”
“Well, yeah, gotta leave room for more. Like how this one —” she declares, pulling Beca in, “— will be our first hallway kiss,” though both of them are smiling so much that it’s less of a kiss and more of a clumsy collision of their mouths.
And she knows without looking, leading the way into their apartment to continue making out, that Beca’s rolling her eyes and holding back a smile behind her, the way she always does when Emily says something ridiculous.
The way she always will.