Chapter Text
It’s right after the mid-morning rush when they walk in. It isn’t anything special; the bell above the door tinkles—some might consider it a cheerful sound, but to the overworked and overtired employees of Bean There Bistro, it’s the death toll.
“Welcome to Bean There Bistro!” Ashley chirps, her weariness only betrayed by the swaying of her body. Sam discreetly grabs her shoulder, steadying her.
The boy is all jawline and sharp features—some might say exotic, some might say odd—and the girl next to him is a softened version of him with silky, shoulder length hair covered in a cheerfully striped beanie. They’re both tall and graceful—Ashley and Sam synchronously sigh enviously—and they look like they come from money, if the flair of their clothes didn’t give them away, the fancy rolexes both of them wear betray them.
Chris, however, is blushing furiously. Sam doesn’t have enough time to contemplate this before Ashley takes their orders—a black coffee and a frappe—before she’s whipping them up and trying not to think of all the homework she has waiting for her after this hellish shift.
“A black coffee for... Bith? And a vanilla caramel frappe for...Jose?” Sam calls out, squinting at Ashley’s terrible handwriting on the cups. Fuck, that’s probably not right.
The two hot, rich people double over with laughter, and Sam has to resist the urge to sigh. She’s tired, alright? Sam’s been here since fuckitsearly o’clock (read: 4:30 AM), and Ashley has the chicken scratch handwriting of a 12 year old boy.
Sam leans on the counter, gently pushing the drinks forward. “Bith? Jose?” she calls innocently. If she’s already messed up, she may as well go the whole nine yards.
The two have managed to compose themselves, and the beanie girl gets up and makes her way to the counter.
“I’m Bith,” she says with a straight face, though her eyes dance with mirth.
“Tell me, Bith. Who comes to a coffee shop for a black coffee?”
“My brother, Jose, is too much of a pussy to come here and get his over-sugared drinks by himself. He has a crush on glasses guy,” at this, she nods at Chris who’s busily cleaning one of the machines and taking occasional, unsubtle glances at the table where her brother sits, “and he’s way too scared to make a move.”
Beanie glances at Sam’s chest for a moment, and Sam resists the urge to make a joke when she says, “Tell me, Sam, does my brother have a chance?”
Oh, she was glancing at my name tag. Whoops.
Sam shrugs. “Chris is possibly the slowest person ever when it comes to feelings, so as long as your brother doesn’t mind waiting until he’s on his deathbed to get a confession, then yes.”
Beanie girl smiles, and it’s the least snarky thing she’s done all day. “Great. I’ll need to hire your services as a wingwoman, Sam. We’ll be back.” With that, beanie girl grabs her coffees and with a saunter that’s definitely meant to make Sam look at her ass—she’s human, alright?—beanie girl calls behind her: “By the way, Sam, your nametag’s upside down!”
“Fuck,” Sam mutters emphatically, glancing down.
She’s not even wearing her nametag.
Which means that A: beanie girl knows her name, and B: beanie girl was checking out her boobs.
Sam resists the urge to fist pump. Score one for the lesbians.
She turns to find Chris trying to pick up machine parts from the floor, with Ashley scolding him vigorously.
“What the hell, Chris. I was looking away for five seconds and you drop everything. Why are you so distracted?” Ashley asks, exasperated.
“I definitely slept with that guy at a frat party, and I don’t think he remembers!” Chris squeaks out, face inhumanly red as he hunches over the floor, trying to pick up parts.
Sam blinks for a moment. That’s an unexpected turn of events.
“Well,” Sam says, clapping her hands. “He thinks you’re hot, so obviously he goes for the nerdy type, drunk or not.”
Chris looks up so fast he hits his head on the counter.
“Fuck!” he swears. “But wait. Really? Did he say that?”
“His sister did.”
“She could be lying.”
Ashley rolls her eyes. “What would she get from that?”
“The satisfaction of not only embarrassing her brother, but also me! What if bought him flowers and it turns out it was some sort of sick joke?” Chris babbles.
“Why would she want to embarrass a perfect stranger? And why would you buy him flowers? That’s so... cheesy.” Sam hedges.
“You’re a romantic neanderthal, Samantha. Flowers are romantic. They say ‘commitment!’” Chris scolds her, standing up with the machine parts juggled in his arms.
“You want to say ‘commitment’ to a guy that you boned at a frat party?” Ashley says, eyes sparkling with suppressed mirth. Chris turns beet red again.
“Don’t say it like that, Ash.”
Sam and Ashley just laugh and help Chris sanitize the parts, and Sam tries to forget about the quick wit and amazing ass of beanie girl, tries to forget that beanie girl knew her name, and tries to forget the paper she has to write on the environmental impact of soda tabs that’s due tomorrow.
Beanie girl shows up the next day during an off time, and if Sam wasn’t running on two hours of sleep she might have the energy to be properly excited.
She leans against the counter, grin sharp and a little dangerous.
“So, Sam. Let’s talk.”
Sam glances at Ashley, who nods. Sam beckons beanie girl to the very end of their counter, where they’re less likely to be bothered.
“How do you know my name?” Sam asks, not tired enough to not be curious about this conundrum (though tired enough to forget any sense of decorum—Ashley banned her from the register after she almost chewed out a customer for wanting a sugar free vanilla latte with two extra pumps of not-sugar free caramel syrup. ‘It doesn’t make any sense!’ Sam had protested, and Ashley only pushed her towards the drink machine. ‘Make the lady’s drink, Sam, even if it’s morally offensive to you,’ she’d replied dryly.)
“I asked the cashier,” she replies, nodding towards Ashley. “But more importantly, does glasses like my brother?”
“Um... yeah?” Sam offers, slowly. It’s not her place to tell on Chris’ past one night stands.
But beanie girl narrows her eyes, honing in on her hesitancy. “Sam! Are you keeping secrets from me? After all we’ve been through!”
God, she’s too tired for this. “I don’t even know your name, beanie girl,” Sam snaps, and then immediately regrets it when her eyes widen with surprise. Fuck, she’s fucking this up.
Sam runs a hand down her face. “Sorry, I’m running on two hours of sleep after writing a twelve page paper on the environmental impact of soda tabs. I don’t mean to snap.”
“Beth.”
Sam blinks. That’s a non sequitur, if she’s ever heard one. Ever eloquently, Sam manages to say, “What?”
“My name. It’s Beth. Well, it’s Bethany, but literally only my nan calls me that, and you’re definitely too hot to be my nan, so call me Beth.” Beanie girl—Beth, Sam corrects herself—rambles a little, and if Sam weren’t so sleep deprived, she’d think Beth is nervous, or embarrassed.
“Okay, Beth. I’m sorry for snapping at you, you didn’t deserve it. You’re just trying to be a good sister and make sure your brother gets a boyfriend,” Sam replies, leaning against the counter. She tries to pretend she’s not a hobbit compared to Beth, short and curved to Beth’s tall and toned. Damn, she’s gay.
“That’s okay,” Beth shrugs, fiddling with the edge of her beanie. “My sister tells me I get super bitchy when I get less than six hours of sleep, so you’re miles ahead of me on that front.”
“Ah, the perks of being a student worker.” Sam sighs, giving Beth a tired smile.
“Why here? I mean, couldn’t you get like, a library job?” Beth asks, propping her elbows on the counter.
“Free coffee. And I’m a morning person, so I’d rather work here.”
Beth looks affronted. “A morning person? We’ll never get along. Night owls rule!”
“You sound like a fifth grader,” Sam laughs. “Who says ‘rule’ anymore?”
“Sam!” Ashley calls, interrupting her pleasant break, and Sam can feel reality crashing down upon her.
“Duty calls,” Sam tells Beth with a grin, but before she can get back to work Beth slides her phone across the counter. It’s already open on contacts, with the name typed as “Barista Sam” with the sparkle emoji next to her name.
“Give me your number, and you can help me plot to get glasses and Josh together.”
“His name’s Chris,” Sam says as she types her number into the phone, and adds the kissy face emoji next to her name.
“Well, you called my brother Jose the first time we met, so I think he can handle the name ‘glasses,’” Beth says wryly, tucking her phone into her pocket and adjusting her beanie. She stops leaning on the counter, straightening her posture, and Sam’s reminded how tall Beth is. She’s like, model-tall. Beth could probably reach the top shelf in the storeroom without having to scale the rickety set-up like barista-spiderman.
Sam is definitely not jealous. Well, maybe a little.
“First of all, Ashley’s handwriting sucks. Like, it’s a wonder they let her on register. Second of all... you make a fair point, Bith.” Sam responds with a grin, and Beth rolls her eyes.
“Sure, Sam. Just tell yourself that to make yourself feel better. I’ll text you!” Beth waves at her as Sam moves back towards Ashley, who’s busy scribbling names on cups with her chicken scratch.
Sam wonders when Beth will notice the kissy emoji she added next to her name.