Chapter Text
It was Emma’s first day in the Emergency Department of the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, and she was currently watching her new charge nurse demonstrate how to work a coffee machine with an intensity of attention perhaps better saved for actual medical procedures. She had never been the type to do anything halfway, though.
It was an ancient behemoth of a machine that took up an absurd amount of break room real estate. Plastic paneling made to resemble wood had dulled to a dingy gray that almost matched the counter the machine sat on, and its three pots were stained from brews of decades past.
Why did it even need three pots, anyway? One for freshly brewed coffee, one on standby as backup when it got busy, and one for decaf, apparently. Dana was in the middle of explaining this when Emma blurted out, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen an actual coffee pot before.”
Dana raised an eyebrow. “Never seen a coffee pot?”
“Like, I’ve never seen the pot itself, you know? Just, like, the espresso machines at Starbucks, Keurigs—those sort of things.”
Dana’s arched eyebrow ticked up a centimeter higher as she squinted at Emma for a long moment.
Abruptly anxious beneath her scrutiny, Emma reached for her waist to fidget with something, only to remember the charge nurse had plucked most of her belongings from her pockets on arrival. She settled with flicking her name badge between her fingers.
“Kid, are you younger than this coffee maker?”
“Uh, well, when was it made?”
“I don’t know, late 90s?”
When Emma opened her mouth to answer, Dana held a hand up to stop her. “Actually, don’t answer that. Let me live in blissful ignorance of the steady march of time until I’ve at least had my morning coffee.”
Emma choked down a laugh at that.
“Now, watch and learn.”
Emma suspected Dana was only showing her all this because the charge nurse herself needed the morning pick-me-up. She showed Emma exactly where to find everything, explained how the vendor that supplied the PTMC’s coffee was often behind, so most people brought their own. This resulted in a communal lazy susan of sorts, which Emma idly spun around as Dana spoke, studying its jumbled variety of colorful pouches and plastic jars interspersed with the occasional lonely tea bag.
Giving the side of the machine a firm slap when the spout apparently dribbled just a little too slowly, Dana finally procured her own drink—a dark roast in a beige mug that was probably white once upon a time, emblazoned with the title of ‘WORLD’S BEST NURSE’.
“I didn’t even ask…” Dana paused to blow on her drink, and Emma watched as steam curled up from her pursed lips and dissipated into the fluorescent ether. “Do you even like coffee? This whole place basically runs on it, especially when shifts run late.”
“I do,” Emma said with a vigorous nod. “I mean, not so much for the caffeine effect, more just as a little treat for myself.”
“You probably won’t like this, then—black serves me just fine, though. Fresh creamer’s nice too, when we have it.” Dana turned to open the fridge and, based on the sigh she expelled, realized they didn’t have fresh creamer. Turning back to the machine, Dana opened one of the upper cabinets and stood on her tip toes, reaching in vain for a cylindrical canister of powdered creamer on the top shelf. When an even heavier sigh escaped the older nurse, Emma leapt into action.
“I can get it,” she exclaimed as she put her back to the counter, braced her hands on the old linoleum, and hoisted herself up to sit atop it.
Dana abruptly grabbed hold of her hip, apparently afraid Emma might fall as she twisted around and stretched an arm up to reach the creamer.
When she turned and offered it with a flourish and a wide smile, the charge nurse huffed a soft laugh, squeezing Emma’s hip gently before she took the container. “Thanks, hun.”
A blush had already bled into Emma’s cheeks at the silent gesture of approval, and it only crept further down her neck as Dana uttered the offhand endearment as easy as if it were Emma’s name.
Emma ducked her head as she jumped down while Dana flicked the cap open and shook a sparing amount of powder into her coffee, stirring it with a plastic straw she then flicked into the trashcan.
“So!” Dana said, opening the break room door and ushering Emma through. “STAMP, and hula hoop.”
A small smile tugged at Emma’s lips even as she blinked in bewilderment. “Hula hoop?”
~
Dana wasn’t exaggerating when she said the whole department ran on coffee.
Emma thought everyone had been exhausted by the protracted end of her first day, but that was nothing compared to a random Tuesday a few weeks later: the day the coffee machine broke.
Emma liked coffee concoctions just fine, but she didn’t need the caffeine boost. She had always been an early bird, and the warmth of sitting with a cup of coffee or tea held to her chest was her only motivation for buying off-brand K-cups. While Emma remained relatively unaffected the day the coffee maker passed on, the majority of the department were clearly experiencing caffeine withdrawal by noon, Dana included.
The charge nurse could be surprisingly biting when her patience wore thin. But no matter the headache that pinched her brows or the stressors surrounding them, Dana always seemed to offer Emma the same warm smile she had first greeted her with nearly a month ago.
Emma decided to repay that constant kindness in what was hopefully the best way she could: a venti black coffee and two tiny packets of creamer she stored beside a cold pack in her lunch box.
Emma was familiar with feeling anxious in the face of any new place or situation, but even she couldn’t explain why she felt so nervous the first time she approached the charge nurse to offer a coffee and a chipper “Good morning!”
Her nerves melted away the moment that warm smile bloomed across Dana’s face, though.
“Sweet heart of Mary, be my salvation,” Dana uttered the prayer like a sigh of relief, squeezing Emma’s hand gently as she took the cup. “Thanks, kid,” she said, miming a quick kiss before she took a sip and hummed.
From that day on, Emma stopped for coffee every so often on her way to work. It became an excellent way to explore the new city and try out different places—chain shops, local cafes, even street vendors.
A tricycle cart called Kahveci Usa was her favorite, wobbily driven by an old man Emma had started to think of Usa in her head even though that probably wasn’t his given name. He always started by adding water and coffee grounds so fine they were practically powdered into a long-handled copper pot, half-burying the small pot in a huge, shallow pan of sand. With the pan perched above an electric burner, Emma watched mesmerized as the man pushed the pot round and round, drawing slow circles through the hot sand. With each pass, the rich mixture rapidly bubbled up, but he always lifted the pot just before it overflowed. He’d pour a bit of the foaming mixture, grounds and all, into a to-go cup, then return the pot to the sand and repeat the process again and again, without ever spilling a drop. Finally, he would finish by snapping a lid on the to-go cup with shaky hands, then offer it to Emma with a bow.
Emma may have preferred it simply for the calming, almost ritualistic nature of the experience, but the coffee was apparently Dana’s favorite, too. The first time Emma brought a cup from Usa’s, the charge nurse practically purred when she took a sip, eyes crinkling slightly as she shot Emma a grateful smile over the lip of the lid.
Dana quickly started insisting Emma take cash in return, going so far as forcibly slipping five dollar bills into Emma’s pockets when she tried to refuse. There was barely room—Dana had finally relented in allowing Emma most of her stuff back, though she still wanted all sharps to stay behind the desk. Dana even went so far as performing the hand over, if you could call at that, at the very end of shift, ensuring Emma wouldn’t have the chance to give it back. Not that it really mattered—she just used the money to buy the following day’s coffee.
One morning, Emma showed up well before the shift change and ran into Lena for the first time in a while. The night shift charge nurse raised an eyebrow as Emma placed the coffee cup down on the desk in front of Dana’s typical chair.
“You didn’t bring enough to share?” Lena asked, stone-faced.
When Emma blanched and hastened to apologize, Lena put her out of her misery, laughing softly as she patted Emma’s arm before she slung a tote over her arm and set off.
That night, Emma finally made use of Dana’s phone number, given to her after that disastrous first day. She had agonized over every possible way to ask what Lena’s preferred coffee order was—not because of Lena, but because she was texting Dana for the first time ever. It was a silly thing to be so worried about, and she eventually settled on a simple ‘Hi 🙂’ that Dana responded to with a far more casual ‘Hey kid, what can I do for you?’
Even after the coffee machine had finally been fixed, if Emma found herself running especially early, she made sure to grab two coffees—although a decaf for Lena whenever possible. For all Lena’s teasing, she did seem to appreciate the gesture.
Maybe it was a bit much on Dana’s part, that first day—taking anything that could be so much as thrown from Emma’s plethora of pockets, jumping straight into a quiz on a modified STAMP assessment, even imprinting ‘hula hoop’ as the safe word—but part of the reason Dana came back was because they had implemented these changes, and she’d be damned if she didn’t do her part to enforce them.
Lena had been right on the money with her ‘lost little lamb’ comment. The fresh-faced RN, resilient as she proved herself to be that first day, still exuded an air of anxiety tempered by a sweet, joyful innocence. As of late, Dana had been feeling more than a little jaded herself, so some small part of her bitterly wondered how long it would take for this place to beat that light out of Emma. Dana’s better angels, however, had resolved after that first day that nothing of the sort was happening under her watch.
It was kind of nice, having a little duckling to take under her wing. Emma was smart, capable, willing and ready to jump into the action even when she held reservations. She was anxious at times, yes, but she did her best to translate that energy into an eagerness to learn from her fellow nurses as well as the doctors, student and resident alike. Every moment was a learning opportunity that she drank in with wide eyes.
It was like everything surprised the girl—some might call that naivety, but Dana could see Emma held on to that open sense of wonder with intent and in spite of her anxieties. The quality was easy to admire, and even a little rejuvenating—hard not to be equally enthusiastic when those big brown eyes were looking at you like you held the world in your hands. The open admiration Dana sometimes saw in Emma’s eyes made her skin itch, though not in a strictly uncomfortable sense. It fit Dana like a favorite dress from younger days—flattering, even if she was far too old for it.
Dana spat her gum into the bushes as she walked into the ED—it had lost its effects a while ago anyway, as she still hadn’t perfected the slower chewing technique nicotine gum required.
Taking her shades off, she saw Emma already at the nurses’ station with Lena, and headed their way, nodding good morning to others as she went.
“Thanks, little lamb,” Lena said, patting Emma’s arm as she took the small coffee from the young nurse and slung her heavy tote over the opposite arm. The nickname may have started as a one-off joke, but once Lena discovered it flustered the poor girl, it became a permanent part of her vocabulary, to Dana’s amusement.
“We actually have something for you, too,” Lena said as her eyes alighted on Dana over Emma’s shoulder. Turning back to the desk, she reached over the counter and produced a stuffed lamb one might give to a new baby rather than a new nurse. From anyone else, it might’ve been condescending, but Lena’s warm smile, teasing though it was, still managed to present the plushie as the expression of affection and gratitude it was.
“Oh…”
Dana’s gut twisted strangely as she stopped behind Emma, worried the girl might not like it.
“Oh, I love it, thank you so much!” Emma exclaimed with all the high-pitched excitement of a kid with a brand-new puppy, bouncing on her toes slightly.
“Glad you like it,” Dana spoke up.
Emma whirled around, holding the stuffed animal close to her chest with the biggest smile straining her cheeks. Dana couldn’t help the smile that flitted across her own lips at the sight—the kid really was doing wonders for her mood lately.
“Oh, good morning to you, too,” Emma said, turning around and carefully depositing the lamb back on the desk, trading it for Dana’s own coffee. “I got these little donut holes from Kahveci’s, too,” she said, offering Dana the cup. “They’re really good—I may have eaten half of them already,” Emma said ruefully.
Dana snorted a laugh as she took the coffee from her. “Mornin', hun, you’re a lifesaver.”
Lately, every morning was, frankly, a bad one—but Emma, coffee and donuts or not, made every morning brighter in a way Dana never expected. Thoughtlessly, she leaned in to press a quick kiss to the side of Emma’s head as she stepped around her.
The girl went rigid as a board. Dana quickly kept moving, grimacing as she muttered, “Sorry, husband and two girls,”—after this particular morning, the word ‘husband’ tasted like ash on her tongue—“old habits die hard and all that.”
“Oh, uh, it’s fine,” Emma said, empty hands fluttering about before she twisted her fingers together. “I– I should get to Triage now!” She turned on her heel and strode away, never mind that her shift had hardly started. In her haste, she nearly collided with Whitaker; he caught and steadied her, both profusely apologizing before they separated and went opposite ways.
Lena huffed a tired chuckle. “Looks like our little lamb has a little crush.”
“What, Whitaker?” Dana asked, dropping her bag beside her chair and eyeing the honey-soaked, cinnamon-dusted donuts on the desk hungrily.
Lena scoffed. “See you later, Dana.”
“Yeah, see ya, be safe getting home.”