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duckduckthrallI totally got their ages worked out. It's cool. Also, don't ask me where this total crack!pairing came from. My... brain?
"Tall caramel macchiato," the barista said, placing the drink on the bar. Emily Lightman made a grab for it. She'd been up all night studying, and desperately needed her caffeine fix if she was going to stay awake for classes and then babysit her sister in the afternoon.
A masculine hand came out of nowhere and grabbed the coffee. Emily turned, toward the man, who was dressed in a business suit. "Okay, *no*," Emily said. "Absolutely not. That was mine."
"Drop dead, sweetheart," the man replied, silkily, while he sipped the coffee.
Was he on *crack*? Emily thought. Did he really just say that?
"I paid for that, you prick," Emily replied. A lawyer for a mother, and deception experts for a father and step-mother, she was never afraid to speak up for the underprivileged or trodden-upon (in this case, herself).
"This is Washington, honey," the man replied, still smoothly drinking the coffee.
"What the *hell* does that have to do with anything?"
A woman in a navy blue pantsuit, with long dirty-blonde hair done up in a bun had sidled up to the bar while no one was looking and was making hand gestures at the barista. The barista nodded, the woman smiled. The woman walked towards the man in the business suit, and Emily. As she passed, she simultaneously stepped on the man's foot in her 3-inch heels, and knocked the cup of coffee into him.
"Oh, I'm so *sorry*," the woman said, smirking.
"Bitch," he replied venomously, fumbling around for napkins while trying not to walk on his injured foot.
"You stole her coffee, you can *wear* her coffee."
Emily smiled, despite the lack of coffee, and the fact that she really could have handled this herself.
"You can pay for the dry-cleaning of my suit," the man hissed.
"Right. And you can buy her a new coffee. I see you do this *every* *day*. You've done it to me, you've done it to hundreds of other women, and I'm tired of it. With the number of coffees you've *never* bought, you can afford your own dry cleaning bill."
The man left the coffee house in a hurry.
"I'm sorry," the woman said, turning to Emily. "You were doing great, really, but I've wanted to stick it to him for *weeks*."
"It's fine," Emily said. "I just really needed that coffee."
"Barista's making another one, I've got it covered."
"Thanks," Emily said. "You really didn't have to. I could have done without."
"No, you couldn't. You look exhausted."
"I was up until 3:30 studying for a calculus final."
"Georgetown?"
Emily nodded.
"Did my PhD there. Nice campus."
"Oh yeah," Emily replied. "Very scenic, and such. Especially if you like getting run down by the Plant Ops people every time you step into the street."
"So, things haven't changed much in the last few years, is what you're saying," the woman replied, giggling.
Emily grinned. "Nope. Look both ways before you cross the street and one will still pop out of nowhere."
Emily's coffee was ready. She picked it up, sipped it, and sighed happily.
"I remember those days," the woman said fondly. She fidgeted with her necklace, not sure what to say next or whether she should just end the conversation there.
Emily was braver (and more caffeinated). "Do you want to sit down for a minute? Share a scone? Reminisce?" She then looked horrified. "I mean, if you have time, and, god, we don't actually know each other."
The woman held out a hand. "Cassandra. Everybody and their mother calls me Cassie, though."
Emily shook Cassie's hand. "Emily."
"Well, Emily, raspberry lemon, or pumpkin?"
Emily spluttered on her coffee. "Excuse me?"
Cassie blushed. "Scone. What flavour?"
"Oh! Um, pumpkin?"
"Sounds good." Cassie went to purchase the scone, and then she and Emily looked for an empty table.
When they were both sitting down, jackets shrugged off, backpacks and laptop bags placed carefully next to them, Emily broke the scone in half, and nudged one half closer to Cassie.
Cassie nibbled a piece of icing, and regarded Emily carefully. The younger woman was pretty. Wavy brown hair, brown eyes, freckles. She had a look about her that one would generally associate with perpetual worrying. Emily noticed Cassie looking and grinned. The grin was one of genuine happiness (the corners of her eyes crinkled), but there was suppressed laughter behind that smile as well.
It wasn't suppressed for long. Emily laughed. Cassie shook herself out of the stare and said, "What?"
"It's nothing," Emily said, swallowing a giggle. "It's just--could you please look a little less worried? I'm not going to kidnap you."
Cassie couldn't help but chuckle. "It's not that. Really. I'm just a little lost in thought, is all." Like whether this counts as a date, whether or not you even *like* women, whether I'm reading too much into the look in your eyes...
"Well, allow me to distract you, then," Emily said, flicking a crumb rather accurately at the side of Cassie's head.
This struck both as hilarious, and they both dissolved into laughter. Once the giggles had mostly stopped, they began to discuss Georgetown - Cassie's alma mater, Emily's... current mater. Once that topic was exhausted, they began to discuss music. Neither were particularly adept at a musical instrument, both could play the piano only purely technically, and both enjoyed cello music.
Midway through an anecdote about Vitamin String Quartet, Emily glanced down at her phone, and did a double-take at the time. "Crap. I've got to get going or I'm going to miss my final."
"And I don't want to be late for my first day at my new job," Cassie said, packing up her things.
They walked together until the directions they were heading in diverged. "We should... do this again sometime," Emily said, adjusting the straps of her backpack.
"Absolutely," Cassie replied.
They said their goodbyes, and both wandered away wondering exactly *what* they should do again sometime. They had exchanged email addresses, so there was always time to hash that out later.
Neither realized that "later" would turn out to be that afternoon.
Word Count: 1023
Word Count to Date: 39890
"Tall caramel macchiato," the barista said, placing the drink on the bar. Emily Lightman made a grab for it. She'd been up all night studying, and desperately needed her caffeine fix if she was going to stay awake for classes and then babysit her sister in the afternoon.
A masculine hand came out of nowhere and grabbed the coffee. Emily turned, toward the man, who was dressed in a business suit. "Okay, *no*," Emily said. "Absolutely not. That was mine."
"Drop dead, sweetheart," the man replied, silkily, while he sipped the coffee.
Was he on *crack*? Emily thought. Did he really just say that?
"I paid for that, you prick," Emily replied. A lawyer for a mother, and deception experts for a father and step-mother, she was never afraid to speak up for the underprivileged or trodden-upon (in this case, herself).
"This is Washington, honey," the man replied, still smoothly drinking the coffee.
"What the *hell* does that have to do with anything?"
A woman in a navy blue pantsuit, with long dirty-blonde hair done up in a bun had sidled up to the bar while no one was looking and was making hand gestures at the barista. The barista nodded, the woman smiled. The woman walked towards the man in the business suit, and Emily. As she passed, she simultaneously stepped on the man's foot in her 3-inch heels, and knocked the cup of coffee into him.
"Oh, I'm so *sorry*," the woman said, smirking.
"Bitch," he replied venomously, fumbling around for napkins while trying not to walk on his injured foot.
"You stole her coffee, you can *wear* her coffee."
Emily smiled, despite the lack of coffee, and the fact that she really could have handled this herself.
"You can pay for the dry-cleaning of my suit," the man hissed.
"Right. And you can buy her a new coffee. I see you do this *every* *day*. You've done it to me, you've done it to hundreds of other women, and I'm tired of it. With the number of coffees you've *never* bought, you can afford your own dry cleaning bill."
The man left the coffee house in a hurry.
"I'm sorry," the woman said, turning to Emily. "You were doing great, really, but I've wanted to stick it to him for *weeks*."
"It's fine," Emily said. "I just really needed that coffee."
"Barista's making another one, I've got it covered."
"Thanks," Emily said. "You really didn't have to. I could have done without."
"No, you couldn't. You look exhausted."
"I was up until 3:30 studying for a calculus final."
"Georgetown?"
Emily nodded.
"Did my PhD there. Nice campus."
"Oh yeah," Emily replied. "Very scenic, and such. Especially if you like getting run down by the Plant Ops people every time you step into the street."
"So, things haven't changed much in the last few years, is what you're saying," the woman replied, giggling.
Emily grinned. "Nope. Look both ways before you cross the street and one will still pop out of nowhere."
Emily's coffee was ready. She picked it up, sipped it, and sighed happily.
"I remember those days," the woman said fondly. She fidgeted with her necklace, not sure what to say next or whether she should just end the conversation there.
Emily was braver (and more caffeinated). "Do you want to sit down for a minute? Share a scone? Reminisce?" She then looked horrified. "I mean, if you have time, and, god, we don't actually know each other."
The woman held out a hand. "Cassandra. Everybody and their mother calls me Cassie, though."
Emily shook Cassie's hand. "Emily."
"Well, Emily, raspberry lemon, or pumpkin?"
Emily spluttered on her coffee. "Excuse me?"
Cassie blushed. "Scone. What flavour?"
"Oh! Um, pumpkin?"
"Sounds good." Cassie went to purchase the scone, and then she and Emily looked for an empty table.
When they were both sitting down, jackets shrugged off, backpacks and laptop bags placed carefully next to them, Emily broke the scone in half, and nudged one half closer to Cassie.
Cassie nibbled a piece of icing, and regarded Emily carefully. The younger woman was pretty. Wavy brown hair, brown eyes, freckles. She had a look about her that one would generally associate with perpetual worrying. Emily noticed Cassie looking and grinned. The grin was one of genuine happiness (the corners of her eyes crinkled), but there was suppressed laughter behind that smile as well.
It wasn't suppressed for long. Emily laughed. Cassie shook herself out of the stare and said, "What?"
"It's nothing," Emily said, swallowing a giggle. "It's just--could you please look a little less worried? I'm not going to kidnap you."
Cassie couldn't help but chuckle. "It's not that. Really. I'm just a little lost in thought, is all." Like whether this counts as a date, whether or not you even *like* women, whether I'm reading too much into the look in your eyes...
"Well, allow me to distract you, then," Emily said, flicking a crumb rather accurately at the side of Cassie's head.
This struck both as hilarious, and they both dissolved into laughter. Once the giggles had mostly stopped, they began to discuss Georgetown - Cassie's alma mater, Emily's... current mater. Once that topic was exhausted, they began to discuss music. Neither were particularly adept at a musical instrument, both could play the piano only purely technically, and both enjoyed cello music.
Midway through an anecdote about Vitamin String Quartet, Emily glanced down at her phone, and did a double-take at the time. "Crap. I've got to get going or I'm going to miss my final."
"And I don't want to be late for my first day at my new job," Cassie said, packing up her things.
They walked together until the directions they were heading in diverged. "We should... do this again sometime," Emily said, adjusting the straps of her backpack.
"Absolutely," Cassie replied.
They said their goodbyes, and both wandered away wondering exactly *what* they should do again sometime. They had exchanged email addresses, so there was always time to hash that out later.
Neither realized that "later" would turn out to be that afternoon.
Word Count: 1023
Word Count to Date: 39890
