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Not again , Beca thought as she came home late one night to find the shadow of an unconscious body on the couch of her dark apartment. Jesus Christ, not again.
The situation was really starting to get out of hand.
By the situation Beca meant the increasingly common occurrence of Supers crashing on her couch because her roommate seemed to attract them like moths to a flame. Beca guessed it wasn’t her fault, really, because Stacie was an experienced trauma surgeon and Supers did seem to encounter a lot of trauma, usually of the blunt-force and to-the-head varieties. But Jesus, Beca thought, wasn’t there some kind of Super-sanctioned doctor these guys could go to who actually specialized in Super medicine?
Or, Beca realized with an uncomfortable jolt, had Stacie become that doctor?
She sighed, dropping her hand from where it was reaching for the light switch and instead flicked on her phone flashlight. She tiptoed across the apartment and toward her bedroom, curiously glancing at the body on the couch as she went.
It was a girl, their age probably, with blonde hair and the pinched kind of look on her face, even in sleep, that suggested she wouldn’t hesitate to tell you what was on her mind.
Beca hoped that she, like so many of them, would be gone by the time Beca slouched out of her room the following morning.
She just didn’t need another Super in her life being a royal pain in the ass.
//
The situation had unfortunately begun about three months ago when Stacie had been working in the ER at the hospital. She’d overheard an argument between a girl who was in bad shape and whoever had brought them to the hospital. The girl was determined to deny treatment, really wouldn’t let Stacie get a good look at her. Her friend had then told Stacie in hushed tones that she required a special kind of care and Stacie, being Stacie (ie too astute and curious for her own good), had realized what that meant.
A Super, right there in Stacie’s ER, possibly dying, but unable to get treatment because of social stigmas and secret identities and the simple fact that no common doctor particularly understood Super biology.
So Stacie had brought the two back to their apartment, had done her best to patch up the Super in secrecy, and since then, Beca’s life had become significantly more annoying.
Because now it seemed to happen often, and with growing frequency as the weeks passed. Supers of all ages and with an assortment of powers would wind up on their couch sleeping off whatever near-death injury they’d most recently experienced. Beca had seen Stacie stitch up weirdly shaped and colored cuts (one was even glowing once), pull bullets out of wounds that had healed too quickly, reset bone structure, tend to bruises, concussions, and more.
It was weird because Beca didn’t actually really have anything to do with it, but Stacie had, somehow, become the resident Super-approved Doc in Hell's Kitchen, which meant their apartment was consequently a makeshift med-center for the ill and injured Super.
So now Beca had Secrets. That’s right. Secrets with a capital fucking S. Secret identities to protect, secret knowledge to keep to herself.
And like, that was a lot of pressure, considering it had nothing to do with her. And frankly, she didn’t take kindly to Supers narrowing their eyes anxiously at her, afraid she’d sell them to Satan and His Villainous Affiliates for less than one corn chip.
Her response to them was always the same:
Their secrets were safe, it had nothing to do with her. She, unfortunately, just lived here.
And of course, her favorite line to them as they limped out of her apartment the next morning:
Goodbye.
//
It’s not that Beca really hated Supers or anything.
It was more that she just found them to be a major inconvenience in her life. They were always destroying the city, causing traffic, making Beca late to work. Throw in the fact that she now frequently cleaned blood off every surface of her apartment and often had zero privacy thanks to an unconscious form sleeping some new and mysterious injury off on her couch, and Beca was pretty fucking tired of Supers being a fixture in her life.
Like, really. She’d almost rather just live with common (and even uncommon) crime.
//
“Hey, Beca!”
And oh, yeah, she forgot to mention the biggest Supersized pain in her ass to come from the whole affair. Remember that first Super patient of Stacie’s? Yeah, well, Stacie was dating her now and she practically lived (rent-fucking-free, Beca might add) in Stacie’s room.
So when Beca said Supers were a frequent occurrence in her life, she really fucking meant it.
Beca huffed, grabbing the coffee pot and pouring herself a cup. It was too fucking early for this. “Hi, Chloe.” She peered with still-bleary eyes into the family room and toward the couch. “That other one gone, then?”
“Who, Aubrey?” Beca made a yeah-sure-whatever gesture. “Yeah, she left early this morning once she could stand on that ankle again. I think those new splints Stacie’s been trying are really effective.”
Beca grunted, because one again, she did not care. She just fucking lived here. “Where is Stacie, anyway?”
“Hospital.”
Figures. “And you’re here why?”
Chloe gave a light laugh. “As usual, you are just so lovely in the morning, sweetie.”
Beca glowered at the pet name, but suddenly, warmth flushed through her chest and she felt her lips twitch upward. She tried to glare at Chloe, but her cheeks were softening, her shoulders untensing. “Hey. Stop that.”
“Stop what?” Chloe asked, eyes wide, tone innocent. Beca wasn’t buying it.
“Don’t do your fucking Super-shit on me.”
“I’m not,” but Chloe was smiling and Beca’s chest was growing more fluttery by the second. The best she could do was mildly stare at Chloe. She’s sure it was very intimidating. “Okay, fine I was. But just a little. To help you wake up.”
Beca held out her coffee, her skin feeling warm. She had a feeling it was going to be a very pleasant day. “That’s what the coffee is for.”
“And it’s such a nice cup, wouldn’t you agree? I think I’ve outdone myself with this one.”
Beca slumped her chin in her hand on the counter, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, actually. It’s really good.”
“ So good,” Chloe agreed. “You’re welcome.”
“Thank you,” Beca immediately said, placated and happy. This coffee really was so delicious, wasn’t it?
Chloe chuckled. “Well,” she said, grinning brightly at Beca. Beca returned it easily. “I do have a real job to get to, so if you’ll excuse me.”
“Enjoy the puppies,” Beca said softly, watching as Chloe took her gorgeous smile of sunlight and walked it to the door. “I hope you have a good day.”
Chloe beamed. “I’m sure it will be great for everyone involved.”
Beca’s eye suddenly twitched as Chloe stepped out of the apartment, her gaze finally leaving Beca’s. “Yeah,” she blinked, coming back to herself a little. “I’m sure.”
Chloe just giggled. “See you later, honey.”
“Yeah, bye.”
Then Chloe was gone and Beca’s face immediately sunk back into a scowl, the warmth leaving her body as the morning, once again, crashed over her in Chloe’s absence.
She fumed, reaching for the pot to top off her coffee cup.
Fucking Supers.
//
Not again , Beca thought as she stepped into her dimly lit apartment and saw Stacie leaning over the couch, agile fingers stitching up an unconscious figure. Jesus Christ, not again.
Stacie didn’t look up as Beca entered. She had her eyes narrowed in concentration. “Bec, can you come turn this lamp closer?”
Beca sighed, dropping her keys in the little bowl on the counter and walking toward the couch. She turned the lamp on the end table so the light was shining more directly onto the arm of the unconscious Super.
This time it was a guy, handsome, with tousled brown hair and thick muscles. He was bleeding from the bicep, a weird-looking, thick, viscous goop trickling from the wound. Beca cringed backward.
“Ew, what is that?”
Stacie hummed. “Not sure. Found him on the balcony, though, so he must have come word-of-mouth. Not too mad about it, to be honest. Been wanting to test this new thread I’ve been working on that’s supposed to be heat and cold-resistant. So I’m hoping if whatever it is keeps burning him up, then the stitches will at least hold.”
“Right,” Beca said, rolling her eyes. “Well, good luck with that.”
It was all a bunch of pseudo-science mumbo-jumbo to her. And, like she said, she just lived here.
//
Yeah, so part of Stacie’s new Super-Doc obsession was that she had started trying to develop off-shoot med supplies that might work on the weird Super-DNA. Beca did not understand it, like, at all.
The most she could get was that Stacie would save blood samples and other weird bodily fluids (like, yeah, she probably saved that nasty arm-wound goop) and ran it through some tests at the hospital. Then she’d use her awesome brain to reverse engineer the stuff for healing, and blah blah blah, yeah, yeah, like she said before, Beca really didn’t care.
Not that she could understand it anyway.
The shit part was that Stacie had nobody to test it on until another Super showed up on their doorstep (well, balcony ) half-dead and in distress. So the process was slow, but as far as Beca could tell, kind of effective.
Stacie was good at what she did, could make a real job out of it if it actually paid, which it didn’t, but the fact of the matter was that through word-of-mouth, Supers learned that when they needed help, Stacie was their girl.
Which meant, yeah, the frequency with which this bullshit kept happening?
Now almost nightly.
//
Not again , Beca thought as she entered into her apartment and saw Stacie flitting about while an unconscious figure slumbered on their couch. Jesus Christ, how many fucking times --
“Oh, thank God you’re here,” Stacie exhaled in a rush. Beca was immediately suspicious because Stacie didn’t often say such things to her. The things Stacie usually said to her were more along the lines of it’s your turn to buy the toilet paper, Beca, or touch my guacamole and just know that I could easily kill you and make it look like an accident.
So yeah, this wasn’t exactly reassuring.
Beca frowned. “Why?”
“I have to go in, there’s been a huge gas line explosion and the ER is packed . But that one’s face,” Stacie gestured to the couch, “looks like she stuck it in a bowling ball return machine for funsies.”
“Uh…” Beca said, pretty sure she could see where this was going. “No, Stace, I --”
“Here.” Stacie shoved a tube of something in Beca’s hands. “Rub it on her bruises once an hour until she wakes up and can do it herself. It’s gonna stop the internal --”
And yeah, blah blah science medicine Super-Bio bullshit. “No! Stacie! You know I don’t get involved in this shit!”
“Come on, Beca! If it’s effective, this could really help them out and then I can start giving it to them and maybe they’ll be able to self-administer!”
“I don’t care!”
Stacie leveled a look at her. “If they can self-administer, they won’t have to come here for it.”
Beca blinked. “Oh.”
“So do it, okay? Once an hour.” Stacie pointed her finger at Beca. “And be nice to this one, she’s Chloe’s friend.”
“Ugh,” Beca groaned, but Stacie was already headed out the door.
“Thank you, love you, don’t forget to eat dinner, and oh, yeah! It’s your turn to buy the toilet paper! We’re almost out!” And then she was gone, leaving Beca standing like a schmuck in the kitchen holding a tube of unidentified ointment and with a Super unconscious on the couch that she suddenly had to babysit.
Great, Beca thought. Just great.
//
The ointment was a thick orange gunk that stuck to Beca’s fingers, but it smelled like spearmint, so at least there was that. She’d definitely smelled some of Stacie’s concoctions before and almost lost her lunch.
Beca grabbed a whole roll of paper towels and dragged the armchair over in front of the couch. Might as well get comfy if she was gonna do this thing.
She eased down on the armchair, uncapped the ointment, and for the first time, got a good look at the injured Super in question. Beca blanched, almost losing her lunch anyway.
Stacie had definitely been exaggerating when she said the girl had stuck her head in a bowling ball return for funsies. Exaggeration on the funsies . Beca had no idea who would let their face get this beat to shit for funsies. As far as how her face actually looked , Beca had seen more alive and human looking faces on The Walking Dead zombies.
She grimaced, blotting the orange gunk onto her fingers and, as carefully as possible, tried to rub it over the girl’s cheek.
The girl didn’t even move. No flinching, no stirring, not even a weak moan to indicate she was alive. A small amount of panic rose in Beca’s lungs. She paused, her eyes sliding to the girl’s chest. When she saw it move, a gentle in-and-out, she relaxed.
Okay, the girl was just, like, dead to the world.
(Figuratively, anyway.)
Less hesitant now, Beca used her other hand to brush the girl’s brown hair away from her face, and continued applying the orange gunk over the bruises on her skin, a coloring that was such a bizarre and fucked to shit green-purple-blue combo that it could pass as a really bad tie-dye job.
Eventually, she managed to rub the ointment into the skin all over the girl’s face, and she grabbed a wad of paper towels to wipe it off her fingers. She frowned when she saw it had stained the tips a dull orange.
Lovely.
She sighed, leaning back slightly to take in the girl. She couldn’t tell if the ointment was working, but it had only been a few minutes so that didn’t really mean much. Other than that, her features were relaxed, if not barely recognizable as human. Beca thought it must be a miracle that whatever reason the girl looked like this, her nose remained unbroken.
Unless Stacie had just attended to that before Beca got there.
Whatever.
Beca didn’t care. She just lived here.
(And sometimes applied ointment.)
//
It was working.
Beca didn’t know how (science medicine Stacie-genius blah blah whatever), but only three hours had passed when Beca looked up from her laptop and almost screamed in surprise.
Because what had once been a very ugly discolored collection of bruised face was now…
Well, still kind of bruised, but definitely not as much and certainly not as ugly.
The girl was still sleeping, and Beca couldn’t help herself from staring. It was kind of actually unreal how much better her face looked. Her injuries were now the ugly yellow of nearly-healed bruises, and the swelling was practically nonexistent.
Her face actually looked human and Beca mapped it with her eyes -- the relaxed set of her jaw, soft cheekbones, pink lips that were chapped but discernible.
Whoa , Beca thought, and she held up the tube of ointment curiously. What had Stacie put in this shit?
Carefully, Beca went to reapply it to the girl’s face, as she had done once an hour for the past three hours as instructed. But this time, the girl stirred, her face turning away from Beca slightly. A long exhale issued from her mouth.
Beca froze, but that appeared to be it.
She frowned and finished the job, wondering just how many more times she’d have to do this before the girl woke up.
//
The answer was none.
Beca had settled back into the armchair, pulling her laptop back to her in an attempt to get some more work done, and maybe ten minutes later, there was a loud groan from the couch.
Beca perked up, looking toward the sound, to see the girl fluttering her eyes open. They glanced around in confusion, then her hand came to her face and she flinched.
“Careful,” Beca said, setting her laptop aside. The girl jumped, taking in Beca suspiciously. She must have determined Beca not to be a threat, though, because she relaxed almost immediately, slumping back into the couch.
Beca didn’t know if that should offend or flatter her.
“How you feeling?” Beca asked, still amazed at how much the girl’s face had healed in just a few short hours.
The girl looked at her, blinking slowly. She cleared her throat. “Super,” she finally rasped.
Beca stared, dumbfounded, and the girl stared back. Then her lips twitched, but the action made her grimace.
Beca rolled her eyes. “How many times have you used that one?”
“Quite a bit,” the girl admitted, voice still low and raspy. She groaned. “Ugh. What happened?”
Beca shrugged. “I could ask you the same thing.”
The girl hesitated. “Chloe?”
“Not here,” Beca said. “But my roommate is her girlfriend, so this is, you know, a safe space, or whatever.”
“Oh. This is Stacie’s place?”
“Yep,” Beca sighed. “‘Fraid so.”
The girl peered at Beca. “And you…”
“Just live here.” Beca tossed the ointment on the couch next to the girl. “Here. I’m supposed to tell you to apply the ointment once an hour until you’re healed. Been doing it for about four hours now and you’ve come a long way, so I’d say a few more applications and you’ll be good as new. But look, you were like, really beat to shit dude. I dunno what you’ve been up to, but maybe it’s out of your league and it’s time to give it up unless you’re interested in a more permanent facial rearrangement.”
“Oh,” the girl said, voice going small. “No, it was my fault. I mean, I just... fell.”
Beca snorted. “Look, you don’t have to make up some excuse. Stacie heals all kinds of Supers here so your secret is safe. I’m just saying, you know, maybe the baddy was just a bit too bad for you.”
The girl frowned. “No, it’s not an excuse. I really just fell.”
“Fell,” Beca blinked. “From… where?”
“Um,” the girl exhaled. “Top of the Rock.”
“Top of the --” Beca felt her eyes bulge. “ Dude .”
The girl grimaced, sliding a hand over her bruised face. “I mean, I was , you know, fighting up there, but… No, I just… Fell, um, off.”
“Dude! How are you not dead?”
“Uhh. Well, no see, I managed to kind of catch myself, but, like, there was this pole, and then there was this handrail, and then there was this other pole, and then there was, you know, a giant gold Prometheus, and like, the ground, so.” The girl exhaled, pushing herself up into a sitting position with a grunt. “Um, anyway. I’m Emily.”
Beca was straight up staring. “Uh,” she blinked, shaking herself slightly. “Yeah. Uh. Beca.”
“Beca,” Emily nodded and she gave Beca a soft smile. “Well, thanks for all your help, Beca.” She stood up and Beca scrambled to follow, which was a good idea because Emily’s face immediately glazed over.
She swayed on her feet, gave a lighthearted but feeble chuckle, and, without any other preamble, fainted on the floor.
//
Beca tried to move Emily back onto the couch. She really did.
But come on, she was like, 5-foot-2 and she had noodle arms and Emily was basically like, literal deadweight. She tried to haul Emily up by the shoulders, but after huffing and puffing for about a minute and half, she collapsed back on the ground, Emily spreadeagled on top of her.
God, Beca groaned, easing the girl off of her and crawling out from underneath her injured body. How the fuck did she get stuck on Super babysitting duty?
This shit was so not in her fucking roommate contract.
//
Beca woke with a jolt, the apartment dark around her.
Groggily, she lifted her head up, her hand patting around her body for her phone. She found it on the end table next to the couch which… how did she get on the couch?
She had definitely been sitting on the floor doing her work, anxiously waiting for the unconscious body lying next to her to wake up. She remembered watching the time tick by on her phone, 1am, 2am, 2:45, her eyes growing tired, her body sagging into the couch behind her...
Oh. She must have fallen asleep.
She pushed herself into a sitting position, and a blanket fell from her shoulders. She glanced around, but she was alone. Her phone said 5am.
She sighed, flopping back on the couch with a shrug.
Whatever. At least there weren’t any Supers in her apartment anymore.
//
“So, did it work?”
Beca had just woken up and stepped out of her room. It was around lunch time, thanks to her late night babysitting duty. She groggily blinked at the two people in the kitchen. Stacie and Chloe were apparently eating lunch, the two of them sitting at the table, and they stared at Beca as she stomped over to the coffee pot.
She grunted. “What?”
“The ointment,” pressed Stacie from behind her. “Did it work?”
Beca shrugged. “I guess.”
“What do you mean, you guess ?”
Beca huffed as she started the coffee brewing. She had just woken up, could she not have like, five minutes here? She turned around, leaning against the counter while the coffee dripped. “I dunno, dude. Her face started to get better after a few hours and she eventually woke up and was kinda fine. But then she passed back out and I fell asleep. When I woke back up, she was gone.”
“How many hours,” asked Chloe.
Beca thought about it. “Like… four? She had healed a lot, but not all the way.”
Chloe hummed. “Hm, that sounds kinda normal for Emily. Maybe slightly faster than usual.”
Beca raised her eyebrows. “Sorry, normal? What do you mean slightly faster than usual?”
“Yeah, pretty normal,” Chloe nodded. “I mean, she’s kind of indestructible. That’s her thing. She regenerates or heals or whatever.”
Beca gave her a skeptical look. “Dude. She was beat to shit. She didn’t look so indestructible to me.”
“Well, yeah,” Chloe agreed. “She’s not impervious to the damage. She just heals from it. Once I saw her get spiked through the stomach… like a literal hole through her body. She healed up in about a day. It’s pretty wild.”
“Ugh,” Stacie huffed while Beca processed this with a frown. “Well that doesn’t help in terms of the ointment. I thought you said her superpower was strength?”
“It’s both,” Chloe shrugged.
Behind Beca, the coffee pot beeped, and she immediately spun around to pour herself a cup, tuning out the discussion happening at the table.
“... to defeat Inferno then…”
“... she’s the only one who might recover quick enough…”
“... protective or preventative meds… why the ointment was a good jumping off point…”
Coffee, Beca thought. Beautiful, wonderful coffee.
“Well, I’ll be in my room,” she said, content to have nothing to do with this conversation.
She brought the entire coffee pot with her when she left. Just in case.
//
“Would you like that hot or iced?”
Beca impatiently sighed as the person in front of her deliberated back and forth on their order. “Hot. No… iced. No wait. Yeah. Hot. No! Iced. Final answer. Iced.”
“Okay, that’ll be $5.21…”
“I only have a $5…”
Beca nearly groaned, but the barista at the cash register managed to work through the issue in record time. “Okay, no worries the rest is on us. I can help who’s next.”
Beca stepped up and ordered her drink. She paid with her debit. The whole affair took fifteen seconds. She didn’t get the issue here.
She leaned against the counter, zoning out, watching the barista making the drinks while she worked. Her long brown hair was in a ponytail under a black cap, a pair of glasses sliding down her nose. Beca couldn’t see the rest of her face, but she could tell the girl was about her age, pretty and friendly.
As if she realized Beca was watching her work, she looked up and smiled. “Hi, how’s it going today?” She asked, a customer service robot in action. Almost immediately, and before Beca could answer, her smile widened. “Oh. Hey! Beca, right?”
Beca blinked. She had never seen this girl in her life. “Um. Yeah?”
The girl laughed, a cute little chuckle that was… kind of familiar. Wait…
Beca squinted at her. “Do I know you?”
“Kind of. Emily?”
Beca frowned. “Emily… Uh…?”
Emily’s lips twitched. “You know. Top of the Rock…”
Beca’s mouth fell open. No fucking way.
“What?” She leaned in to get a closer look at Emily’s face, but it looked… completely normal. As in, very recognizably human and not beat to shit. “Dude! How? Yesterday you were… What?”
Emily chuckled. “Yeah, uh. I bounce back quick.” She placed a cup on the handoff counter. “I have an almond milk vanilla latte no foam extra hot extra whip three splenda three vanilla for Mary.”
Beca blinked. “That’s a drink?”
Emily gave her an amused look. “Apparently.”
“Excuse me, I wanted four splendas,” said the presumed Mary. Emily’s eyes slid away from Beca and she reached for something behind the counter.
“Here you go, sorry about that,” Emily said sweetly, handing the additional splenda to the woman.
The woman grabbed it without a thanks and walked away. Emily was apparently unbothered, already on to the next drink.
“You’re… a barista.” Beca frowned. That didn’t add up.
“Well,” Emily grinned. “My other job doesn’t pay much. Or anything really.”
“Yeah, but…”
Emily glanced at her from under her cap. “Should I not be a barista?”
“No, just…” She didn’t know why she couldn’t get past this. “Sorry. It’s just like… Chloe is a vet. And um, this guy last week was a lawyer. And another chick is a biologist. So…”
Emily nodded. “Yeah. I get it. They have like, real people jobs. And I make coffee.”
Beca cringed. “Well, I didn’t mean…”
“I know,” Emily laughed. “Yeah, I, uh. That stuff just isn’t for me. It’s cool.” She set the next drink on the counter. “I got a large mocha for Samuel.”
An elderly man grumbled up to the counter. “I got a medium.”
Emily smiled at him. “Oh, sorry about that. Guess you get a free upgrade today!”
“But I want a medium. I’ll just waste a large.”
“Well, I can remake it for you, but I’m just going to throw this one out so you’re welcome to keep it.”
“No. I got a medium.”
Emily blinked. “Okay no problem. Just give me one minute.”
Beca stared at the man. Seriously dude?
Emily remade his drink and he walked away, satisfied. She smiled at Beca again. “I meant to say thanks again for the other night, but I had to get going. Opening shift starts pretty early.”
“Oh,” Beca said. She did not understand the Super lifestyle. Get beat to shit one night, show up for work completely fine the next morning? Sure, yeah. Beca couldn’t do it, but whatever. “Yeah, it was no problem. I mean…” She frowned. “I just live there.”
“Right, so you said,” Emily smiled. She placed another cup on the counter. “I have an iced latte for Barb.”
A lady stepped up to the counter. “Is that for Shannon?”
Emily shook her head. “It’s for Barb.”
“Mine was a hot coffee.”
Emily frowned. “Are you Barb?”
“No,” the lady said. “I’m Shannon.”
Emily blinked. “Well, that’s for Barb. I’m sure yours is coming up soon.”
“I’m Barb!” Said the lady in front of Beca. “Oh, but I think I ordered it hot.”
Beca’s eye twitched. Oh my fucking God.
Emily, in an ever-patient tone, hummed. “Gotcha. My sticker says iced but I can remake it for you.”
“Well, I can’t remember if I got it hot or iced.”
Beca was straight up about to pull out her hair. “You got it iced, lady, and you ripped off the cashier at least twenty cents.”
The woman gaped at Beca. “Excuse me?”
“I said what I said.”
“I don’t believe it’s any of your business.”
Beca rolled her eyes. “I think it’s everybody’s business if you’re gonna stand in a public establishment and be a total pain in everyone’s --”
“And here’s that drink hot for you Barb!” Emily quickly interjected, setting another drink, this time in a hot cup, on the counter. “Have a lovely rest of your day! You’re welcome to keep the iced drink as well. Sorry about the mistake!”
Barb huffed, grabbing both the drinks off the counter. Then she stormed off.
Beca was kind of fuming, although she didn’t know why. What was with these people? Emily was like… genuinely nice and unbothered and all these people were so fucking annoying and rude.
And, okay, once again, it’s not like Beca cared about Super shit, but come the fuck on. Emily was out here saving their lives and literally falling off the Top of the Rock to keep them safe, and then they turned around and were total fucking asshats to her at some shitty job?
That was just fucked up.
“Anyway,” Emily said, like Beca hadn’t just almost caused a major scene at her shit job, “here’s your latte, Beca.” She smiled and Beca softened. “It was good seeing you again.”
“Um, yeah,” Beca nodded, suddenly getting an idea. “Hey, do you… get off work soon?”
“Uh,” Emily shrugged. “No, but I have a lunch break coming up in a few minutes probably.”
Beca jumped on it. “Can I buy you lunch? There’s a dollar slice place right around the corner.”
Emily raised her eyebrows, clearly taken aback. “Oh. You don’t have to do that.”
“No, I know. I want to.”
“Oh…” Emily looked away, then glanced back at Beca shyly. “Really?”
Beca shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Um, yeah, then. Yes. I’d love to.” Emily beamed at her and a warmth slid up into Beca’s chest. It felt almost exactly like how when Chloe fucked with her mood. Except Chloe wasn’t here.
So that was a new and weird development.
Whatever. Probably just the coffee.
//
Turned out Emily actually liked her job, although Beca couldn’t, for the life of her, understand why.
“I’m just good at it,” Emily shrugged. “And I know it seems like a lot, but…” She trailed off, thinking. She took a bite of her slice, then sighed. “It’s kind of nice to just like, exist in this space of normal people problems.”
Beca hadn’t thought about it like that. “I mean, I guess it’s low stakes, but still. Everyone is so ungrateful and annoying.”
Emily smiled. “Yeah. And at the end of the day? I can fix that. It’s just coffee, you know? It’s just coffee.”
“I guess.” Beca chuckled, looking at Emily thoughtfully. “Maybe I just think it’s boring when your other job is like, fall off a skyscraper kind of exciting.”
Emily snorted. “This, at least, is painless.”
“Physically, yeah,” Beca agreed, “Anyway, you healed like a champ.”
Emily frowned. “Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”
Hm. Yeah, good point. “So, Chloe said you like, regenerate?”
Emily nodded, but her face twisted in uncertainty. “Yeah, kinda? I mean, I guess. I don’t really understand it.”
“And you’re strong?”
“Uh huh.”
“How strong, though?”
Emily raised her eyebrows at Beca as she took another bite of pizza. “Super strong.”
“Ugh.” Beca nudged her. “You already used that one and it’s not even clever.”
Emily’s lips quirked upward. “It’s a classic.”
“No.” Beca restlessly tapped the wall she was leaning against, the outside of the shop Emily worked at. “So how exactly did you fall off Rockefeller Center?”
Emily crammed the last bite of pizza in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. After she swallowed, she shrugged. “It’s windy up there. And when you’re trying to avoid being incinerated, you kinda aren’t paying attention to where the roof ends and empty air begins.”
“Incinerated?”
“Mhmm.” Emily frowned at her. “You haven’t heard of Inferno? It’s been all over the news.”
Beca rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I don’t pay attention to all that Super bullshit.”
Emily let out a disbelieving laugh. “Bullshit? Beca, you literally live with Stacie Conrad.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what that means.”
“Of course not.” Emily shook her head. “Look, when there’s a doctor who’s interested in Super stuff, like, ninety-nine percent of the time, you can’t trust them. Either they want powers or they want money or something else. Half the Supers in this city are the result of doctor experiments, you know? But Stacie is like, a good one. We’re really grateful.”
Beca made a noncommittal sound. “Yeah, I figured. I mean, she’s my best friend or whatever, but like,” she shrugged again. “I just live there. It has nothing to do with me.”
“What about not dying in a fiery explosion?”
“Eh. What happens happens. It’s not like I’ll know it if I’m dead.”
Emily snorted. “Oh my God. That’s so messed up.” Beca shrugged again and Emily laughed. “Alright, well, whether you care or not, I’d prefer it if there were no fiery explosions.”
“Respect to you.” Beca glanced at Emily, grinning. “Hey, wait. What’s your alter-ego’s name?”
Emily raised her eyebrows. “Don’t have one.”
“What?” Beca gaped. “Everyone has one. Even if it’s stupid. Like Chloe’s. I mean. Emotibabe? Absolutely disgusting.”
“Well, sorry,” Emily teased. “I feel like she thought The Emotional Manipulator was a bit too sketch.”
Beca grunted. “You really don’t have one?”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
Emily shrugged. “Don’t need one.”
Beca frowned. “What if you’re on the news? How will they know what to call you?”
“I’m fine remaining the 'unidentified Super',” Emily said. “Means nothing to me.”
“You don’t want recognition for like, all the good you do?”
Emily chuckled. “No. I mean, I know. And my friends know. That’s all I care about. I just want people to be safe and not like, die. In fiery explosions and things.”
“Huh.” Beca didn’t understand Super-business, like, at all.
Emily scrunched her nose and her glasses slid down a little. “And on that note, I think my break is over. Thanks for the pizza. And the conversation.”
“Yeah,” Beca said. “It’s the least I could do.”
“It’s really not.”
“Well. Whatever.”
Emily laughed. She reached out to squeeze Beca’s shoulder once. “See you around, then.”
“Yeah,” Beca nodded, watching as Emily pushed off the wall and moved to go inside. “Bye.”
Emily offered a last wave over her shoulder, and then she was gone, back to her day job and her shitty ungrateful customers.
Huh, Beca thought for the millionth time. She really would never understand this Super shit.
//
Not again , Beca thought as she entered her apartment to the chaotic sight of a medical sheet covering her kitchen island, blood spots on the tiles, and a figure moaning from somewhere near the couch. Jesus, what happened this time?
She hung her jacket up and set her bag down (on a clean spot of hallway carpet) before making her way further in. Cautiously, she peered over at the person on the couch, who was clearly conscious if the muted sounds of pain they were making were any indication.
Beca jolted. “Emily?”
“Hey… mmmff,” Emily groaned in pain. “Hey, Beca.”
Beca took a step closer, squinting in the dim light of the living room. Emily was laying on her back, head tipped back against the armrest in clear pain, but she had her teeth clamped around her finger to muffle any sounds. She was breathing hard, chest heaving in and out rapidly, and, Beca’s eyes widened as they trailed down to Emily’s shoulder, bare in a tank top, the upper part of her body was covered in burns.
Definitely probably worse than the third-degree type, although Beca had no idea what that looked like. But Emily’s skin was a charred reddish-black, and Beca could potentially see body parts that typically belonged under the skin poking through, but she was determined to not look close enough to confirm.
One of Emily’s hands clenched tight around the back of the couch. The other, the one with her fingers in her mouth, loosely gripped a tube of Stacie’s mysterious orange ointment.
Beca took another step closer. “Holy shit. What happened to you?”
Emily’s eyes flickered to Beca before squeezing shut. “Inferno,” she grunted around her clenched teeth. “Chloe’s worse, though. I’m… fine.”
Beca almost laughed in disbelief. “Yeah, you’re totally fine.”
“Don’t…” Emily wheezed. “Flatter me.”
Beca was past the point of rolling her eyes. “Where’s Stacie?”
“Bedroom.” Emily’s fingers unclenched from the back of the couch to wave over toward the bloody kitchen. “Chloe’s healing up, I think.”
“That’s not from you?”
Emily shook her head. “No, I told you. I’m fine.” But the statement wasn’t very convincing because she gave another wheeze, her body shuddering. She squeezed some orange ointment out of the tube and touched it to the burns on her shoulder. The action made her gasp and she cringed.
“Okay, just…” Beca watched helplessly as Emily attempted to press her fingers to the spot again, only to flinch at the action, a squeak of pain leaving her mouth. “Okay, just give me that .”
She stepped up to the couch and snatched the tube from Emily’s fingers. She huffed, kneeling down, squeezing some of the ointment into her palm. Carefully, she pressed it to Emily’s shoulder, trying not to think about what she was doing. If she thought about it, she might pass out, and that would just be embarrassing. She could handle a few burns…
“You don’t have to do that,” Emily was quick to say, but she wasn’t really in a position to grab the ointment back because Beca had gripped her fingers in the same hand that held the tube, preventing her from moving it. Emily’s other hand pressed back to her teeth as she let out another grunt of pain. “I’m fine. This is fine.”
“I’m totally convinced.”
Emily’s fingers squeezed hers tightly as Beca massaged the orange gunk into her skin. “No, I mean, I know you don’t want anything to do with this stuff and you just like -- mmmfff -- I know you just live here.”
“And sometimes apply ointment,” Beca added, because well, that was apparently true now. A funky little fine-print asterisk to add to the footnote of her grievances.
She just lived here.*
*And sometimes applied ointment.
“What’s this for anyway?” Beca asked, eyes focused on the task now. If she was doing it, she was doing it. “I thought you healed on your own.”
“It’s for the pain,” Emily said, and simultaneously hissed in pain.
Beca snorted. “Right. Sounds like it’s working.”
“Burned through my nerves and I couldn’t feel anything for a bit, but they’re healing back now and,” Emily winced as Beca passed over a new spot. “Stacie said this would ease me into it.”
“Look, I know she’s a genius and all,” Beca said, “but I don’t think her usual methods are gonna be effective for you.”
“No, I’m pretty sure it’s working,” Emily murmured. She squeezed Beca’s hand. “I just was having trouble getting it on there, but uh, you’re doing a great job.”
Beca’s lips twitched. “This is difficult stuff. Rubbing someone’s arm. I’m very skilled.”
“Yeah,” Emily agreed, but she sounded sincere, unlike Beca. “Honestly. Thanks.”
Maybe she was right, because she had stopped jerking so violently and just twitched when Beca pressed down on her burned skin. Hm.
What had Stacie put in this fucking ointment?
Beca finished rubbing the orange spearmint gunk on Emily’s burns and capped the tube. Finally, she looked back up at Emily’s face. Except maybe she shouldn’t have done that, because Emily was staring at her very intensely, and Beca was, for the first time while Emily was actually conscious, close enough to see that her eyes were a very deep and beautiful brown.
Warmth rushed up Beca’s neck and she looked away.
“Um,” she cleared her throat. “All good, then.”
Emily squeezed her hand and let go. “Thanks,” she said, her voice soft. “Really. Thanks.”
“No problem.” Beca’s eyes wandered over the room, just so she didn’t have to look back at Emily’s expression, which was still making residual heat creep into Beca’s face. Her gaze landed on a blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans draped over the armchair.
Or, well, what remained of a blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans. They were singed and half-burned away. Beca frowned.
“Dude, your clothes.”
Emily sighed. “Yeah, they’re nice and crispy, aren’t they? Third pair of jeans I’ve lost to this guy.”
Beca blinked. “You fight baddies in jeans ?”
“Yeah? What else am I gonna wear?”
“I don’t know,” Beca emphatically gestured. “A supersuit?”
Emily snorted. “Cool, thanks. Know where I can get one?”
“Uh?”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Beca crinkled her nose. “But there must be somewhere . I mean, what about, uh, Captain America? He has one!”
“Everyone knows his suit was specially made by Stark Industries. Do you think I can afford that, Beca? I make fourteen dollars an hour. In New York.”
“Spiderman?”
“Stark Industries!”
Beca searched her brain but that was about the end of the list of superheroes she actually knew. Maybe she should pay more attention to this stuff just so she could win more arguments. “Well what about--”
“Whoever you’re gonna say, the answer is Stark Industries or S.H.I.E.L.D. and I don’t have a relationship with either of them.”
Beca huffed. “Well, fine.” Then she said, “Oh! Luke Cage!”
Emily facepalmed. “He’s been fighting in jeans!”
“Oh.” She slumped. “Okay, well… it just seems like a good investment. But I guess you’d also have to come up with a name then. I mean, the costume would need to go with your whole schtick right? Like character design. Unless you just like, made it completely random. Actually that might be smarter. 'Spiderman' kind of tips off what his powers are, doesn’t it? Like it’s kind of…” Beca trailed off when she realized Emily had turned over on her side slightly to look at Beca better, her expression amused. “What?”
“Nothing,” Emily said airily. “Just thought you didn’t care about this stuff.”
Beca huffed. “I don’t! I just live here.”
“Uh huh. And sometimes apply ointment.”
“Yeah. And sometimes apply ointment! So, right, here’s your dumb ointment,” she dropped it on the coffee table and got to her feet, “and I’ll be going now. Because you clearly need rest. So yeah. Heal quick or whatever. Good night!”
Emily’s laughter followed her into her bedroom until she shut the door on the sound. Good riddance.
She just lived here, dammit!*[1]
//
Beca exited her room to a chorus of stove pans sizzling and dishware clinking and laughter. Too much laughter for nine in the morning.
She warily padded into the kitchen (now void of blood) and was met with the grotesque sight of Stacie feeding Chloe a strip of bacon. Chloe was the one laughing, clearly in a good mood despite the sling around her left wrist and a line of moderately-healed burns up her arm.
She looked over at Beca when she entered the kitchen, her smile widening. “Hi, Beca!”
Beca grunted in response and beelined for the coffee pot. The pot was full already so at least there was that. She poured herself a cup and immediately took a sip.
Sweet, sweet coffee.
That’s when she noticed the stove. She blinked, lowering her mug. “What’s with the three-course meal?” She asked, gesturing toward the pans covering every burner, filled with bacon, sausage, hashbrowns, and eggs.
“Breakfast,” Stacie supplied.
Like, obviously. “Yeah, but why are you feeding an entire squadron? And since when do you cook?”
Stacie raised an eyebrow. “That’s for Emily. And she’s cooking.”
As if on cue, Beca heard the toilet flush, the bathroom door open, and then out bounded Emily in a rush of long-legged glory.
Beca gaped. Because Emily, who had looked like the human embodiment of burnt toast the night before, was now completely, one hundred percent healed. She smiled at Beca easily. “Oh, good morning, Beca. Want some breakfast?”
Beca stared. Emily took her silence as an affirmative and loaded up a plate, then deposited it in front of Beca on the counter. “Eat up, there’s plenty.”
Chloe snorted. “Like you won’t eat it all.”
Emily stuck her tongue out. “Regeneration is no walk in the park, Chloe, okay? I am a growing girl. No. I’m a re growing girl. I need calories.”
“And I’m totes jelly,” Chloe laughed. “No hate.”
They bantered back and forth like this for a bit, Stacie interjecting here and there, but Beca drank her coffee and ate her breakfast (which was really good, dammit) in silence. Because something was happening. To her. And it was probably not good.
It’s just that Beca was staring. Like, a lot. At Emily. Emily, in that tank top and a borrowed pair of Stacie’s very short mesh shorts. Because now that it was the light of day and Emily no longer belonged in the burn unit, her skin healed completely, Beca was… noticing.
Yeah, that was the right word. Noticing .
She was noticing that Emily had really nice skin. Very soft and smooth looking. And her arms were like, very muscley. Not I’m-Super-strong-and-can-lift-an-airplane thick, but like, toned . And her collarbones were just… Mhmm. Also? Legs. And perhaps through that tank top, there was an outline of abs, but maybe the shirt was wrinkled. Probably not. But maybe. And then there was Emily’s face, which was like, obviously, you know, Super-perfect. That was just a thing. Supers always had movie star faces and pretty brown eyes and very soft hair and --
So hm. Yeah. Beca was noticing. She sure was. So that was cool.
After about five minutes of this noticing, though, Emily seemed to notice her noticing. And that… That was not so cool.
Her gaze snagged on Beca’s, an eyebrow lifting teasingly, her lips quirking upward, and mmm, yep, suddenly a very pleasant warmth was spreading up Beca's limbs, into her chest. Her cheeks were hot, her face softening. She smiled back, caught, before she realized what she was doing, and jerked her gaze away, embarrassed.
“Chloe,” she snapped. “Stop!”
Chloe looked at her with a frown. “What?”
“Stop doing your Super-shit on me.”
“I’m not doing anything this time!”
“You’re making it all gooey in here!”
Chloe threw her one good hand up. “No, I’m not!”
“I can feel it!”
“I’m not doing anything, Beca, swear to God.”
Stacie huffed. “Lay off, Beca, I don’t feel anything, either. And Chloe doesn’t use that on people out of a fight.”
“She uses it on me all the time,” Beca spit out, jabbing her finger at Chloe. “She has no regard for boundaries. It’s messed up.”
“Okay, I do,” Chloe agreed, smiling slightly. “Just to mess with you once in a while. But I’m not doing it now, I swear.”
“Well --”
“Okay,” Emily said, sliding in expertly. “Let’s all just chill out. Drink some more coffee.” She topped off Beca’s cup. “Eat some more bacon.” Put another strip of bacon on Chloe’s plate. “See, everyone is good.” She let one hand fall on Beca’s shoulder delicately and squeezed.
Beca grunted, softening under Emily’s hand. “Whatever.”
“Great,” Emily said, and her hand fell from Beca’s shoulder. “So what’s the plan for today?”
“Well,” Stacie said, setting her fork down and putting on her game-face. “Last night’s attack clearly showed that Inferno is vulnerable if you’re just able to…”
And that’s when Beca tuned out. She took her coffee cup and skulked out of the kitchen, feeling Emily’s eyes on her back as she left.
Blah blah Super shit blah blah save the city blah blah.
Yep. She just lived here.*[2]
//
“... It’s all over Twitter…”
“... Huge news bulletin…”
“... Heard they’re all converging on the area…”
“... few stops down from here but they kept the subway going for now just in case…”
Beca sighed, shoving her headphones over her ears. Usually her subway ride home wasn’t so full of conversation. Usually people were pretty immersed in their phones or books or whatever.
It didn’t matter anyway because it was just about her stop. She wondered if Stacie would be home for dinner or if she’d have to go out and get something. Or if there would be another unconscious Super on her couch. God, she hoped not. They were all so annoying.
Well, Emily wasn’t bad. But it’s not like she wanted Emily to be unconscious and in pain on her couch.
Ugh, great now she was thinking about dumb Super-shit. Dammit, Stacie.
She rolled her eyes at herself as the subway came to a halt at her stop. The doors slid open and she pushed her way through a mob of people trying to get on.
Okay, rude . Didn’t they know subway etiquette dictated you let people off before you get on? Whatever. She hurried up the stairs, weaving between people rushing down until she finally was out on the street. Jesus, people were in a hurry today.
She huffed, and started walking home, scrolling through her Spotify for some good songs to queue up. She cranked the volume up when some people around her started screaming at each other.
God, New York. Never change.
She’d walked about one block, when all of a sudden, the street quaked, a low rumble under her feet.
BOOM.
The ground shook violently and Beca straight up fell on her ass.
Ow, what the fuck?
She frowned, pushing herself up. A body immediately barreled into her and a hand wrapped around her bicep, yanking her to the left. Heat singed next to her, and Beca gasped, flinching backward as a ball of fire erupted where she’d just been standing.
“Oh shit?” She frowned, her body shaking, adrenaline suddenly coursing through her. “Oh shit.”
She pulled her headphones down around her neck and the sounds of New York rushed in. Well, partly the sounds of New York -- horns honking, sirens wailing, people yelling. But also strange sounds too:
The crackling of flames, the boom of explosions, heavy breathing in her ear.
“... can’t be here, Beca!” The voice of the person was saying. Beca looked up and --
“Emily?”
Emily gaped at her, anxiety clear on her face. “ Beca ! What are you doing here?”
“Um. Walking home?”
Emily exhaled heavily. “Didn’t you see the news? It’s all over Twitter! Inferno is just down the block!”
Beca frowned. “Oh… You know I don’t pay attention to that stuff.”
Exasperation completely took over Emily’s face. “Oh my God.”
Beca was about to respond when suddenly Emily wrapped her up in her arms and twisted them both around. Behind them, another explosion of fire warped the air. Beca felt her arm hair singe, a burnt smell filtering into the air with smoke and ash.
“Ugh,” Emily cringed, wincing. She still had her arms around Beca and Beca peeked out and around Emily’s shoulder to look at the damage. There was a giant crater in the ground just a few steps away, the street flaming and turned to rubble.
“Um,” she murmured, fear finally slicing through her. Her heart crawled into her throat. Her legs shook. She stood frozen, terror rooting her to the spot.
“You gotta leave, Bec, go back the way you came!”
Beca nodded. Tried to step out of Emily’s grip, but her legs suddenly did not want to do anything other than shake. She trembled, her chest tight.
This was fine. Casual Super shit. She was fine.
Totally fine.
“Beca?”
“I’m fine.”
Another explosion rocked the air, further away this time but still close, and Beca’s heart almost gave out.
“You good?” Emily leaned down to meet her eyes, her ponytail brushing over Beca’s cheek.
Beca nodded. “Mhmm. Just. Um. Casual thing, Em. I can’t seem to make my legs work. Give me a second.”
Inferno apparently did not want to give her a second because another fireball rocked past their little huddle, and it only missed burning them in passing because Emily twisted them sideways just in time.
“Don’t really have a second,” Emily said, her voice in Beca’s ear. “Do you trust me?”
“Well, I don’t really know you that great, but you’re pretty nice, so I guess.”
Emily sighed, and then nudged Beca closer. “Just hold on.”
Beca didn’t think about it. She just held on.
Good thing, too, because one of Emily’s arms gripped her around the thighs and hoisted her up. Beca instinctively clutched at the front of Emily’s singed t-shirt (green today, she thought numbly), and her legs wrapped around Emily’s waist.
Then Emily was running, bounding over cracked sidewalks and ashen holes in the street. She vaulted over a trash can and Beca shut her eyes on instinct, but then Emily’s feet touched the ground and she was running again. She ran them two blocks like it was nothing, like Beca wasn’t even there.
Then she said, “okay, Beca, please don’t let go because I’m letting go,” and her arm left Beca’s thighs and then --
Then they were in the air. Beca’s heart flew up in her throat, thinking Emily was flying. But she wasn’t. She had pushed herself off the ground in a powerful jump and swung herself up the side of a brick building by someone’s windowsill. She pushed off the brick with her sneaker, grabbed someone’s balcony, and boosted them up further. Again and again until one more powerful kick-off had Emily scrambling to catch the edge of a roof. She grabbed it and swung them up top, landing lightly on her feet.
Beca’s nose pressed into Emily’s cheek, her breath coming out in quick, harsh pants.
She hated Super shit she hated Super shit she hated Super shit oh my fucking God she hated Super shit
“Beca?”
Beca wheezed. She could not, for the life of her, unclench her fingers from Emily’s shirt.
“We’re safe here, you can let go.”
Beca nodded. Made a sound of acknowledgement in her throat. Mentally told her fingers to let go.
Her fingers would not let go.
“Um,” she said but it was more of a squeak.
Emily didn’t say anything else. Her arms wrapped around Beca’s back and squeezed her in a hug. Tight, but not… Super-tight. And it was… nice. And solid. And comforting. And very Emily... And… hm…
Beca shook herself out of it. Now was so not the time for this.
“I’m good,” Beca mumbled into Emily’s skin, and maybe it felt like her heart was starting to slow down now. A little bit anyway.
Emily kept her arms around her, but she pulled back slightly to look at her and their noses pressed together. Beca shivered for like, one hundred different reasons, the biggest one being Emily’s eyes, which were that warm, deep brown and looking at Beca all soft and worried and scared and -- ugh.
If her breathing wasn’t already so weak, it definitely would be now.
“I’m good,” Beca said again.
“I know,” Emily gave her a soft smile. “Take your time.”
Beca nodded. Took a deep breath. Then, she managed to unwrap her legs from the vice-like grip they had around Emily’s waist. She settled her weight back down on her feet, her legs trembling, but otherwise holding her up.
Carefully, she unfurled her fingers ( ow ), clenching them in and out. This was fine. Casual Super stuff. Embarrassed, she patted Emily’s chest lightly, smoothing over the wrinkles her fingers had made in her shirt.
“Um. Okay. Sorry about that.”
“No worries.”
“Cool.” Beca patted Emily’s chest again, looking up. “So, uh. You should --?”
Emily nodded, those deep eyes still worriedly searching Beca’s face. “Yeah I should probably…” She gestured off in the distance.
“Yeah. Well, uh. Don’t get burnt up too bad, I guess.”
Emily’s lips twitched in a smile, despite the anxiety still clear on her face. “I’ll do my best.”
Beca stared. She couldn’t help it. Maybe it was the adrenaline, still pumping through her body. Maybe it was the way she still had her hands on Emily’s chest, her head tilted back to look Emily in the face.
Maybe it was those eyes, so brown and caring and deep , so, so deep, like they held a million different universes, all of them inviting and warm.
Beca’s stomach flopped, her eyes flicking down to Emily’s lips involuntarily.
Then her brain caught up with her and she jerked back.
Hard NOPE. Nonono. Not the time.
She stumbled back a few shaky steps. “Well, be safe!”
Emily frowned at her, worry still stretched across her face. “You gonna be able to get home from here? I can come back and get you later.”
“No, I got this! I definitely got this.” Beca could not imagine waiting up here on some random rooftop for the Super-fight to be over and to come and be collected after the fact. “You just… go save the city, or whatever.”
Emily gave her a curious look. Then she smiled, small but warm. “Yeah, okay. See you later, then. And please, for the love of God, pay attention .”
And then without further delay, she jumped off the roof .
Beca gaped, hurrying over to the side to look down just in time to see Emily do a superhero landing. She stood up from her crouch, peered up at Beca and gave her a wave, then ran off around the corner to rejoin the fight.
Beca exhaled and stepped back from the ledge.
She hadn’t expected her day to turn out like this.
Fucking Supers.
//
So great. Another inconvenience in a long line of inconveniences in Beca’s life when it came to Supers.
They made her late for work, caused traffic, destroyed the city.
And oh yeah, made Beca want to kiss them at totally inappropriate times.
So maybe this was a problem. Or maybe it was fine. Or maybe it was just, you know, a side effect of being whisked away from danger in the arms of an insanely beautiful girl while adrenaline coursed through your body.
Probably that last one.
Right?
Mhmm, definitely that last one, Beca thought, as a group of Supers convened in her apartment later, some injured, some just tagging along for a post-fight discussion (okay, so was her apartment a makeshift headquarters now or what ?) and Beca found herself straight up staring at Emily for minutes on end, unable to look anywhere else.
For once, Emily was totally uninjured, but Beca was pretty sure it’s because she missed like, eighty percent of the fight running Beca away from the drama. But that just meant that instead of being confined to the couch, Emily was sitting on the kitchen counter, long legs crossed underneath her, elbow on her knee, chin in her hand, and yeah, Beca was staring.
Because even though it had happened hours ago, she could still feel Emily’s nose pressed to her own, a distinct Emily-smell underneath the fire and ash, and that warmth had never quite left her chest. In fact, it was back again, strong and persistent like Emily herself, and it would not, no matter what Beca looked at or thought about, go away.
The Supers around the kitchen were engaged in a heated discussion about what to do next, but it was all white noise to Beca. She heard none of it as she leaned against the counter across from Emily, pretending to pick at a sandwich she had long ago abandoned. She was caught up in the furrow of Emily’s eyebrows, the adorable look of concentration on her face, the muscles of her biceps, just peeking out from under the cuffs of her short-sleeved t-shirt, still singed and dirty from the fight.
And those eyes. Beca was very preoccupied with those eyes. Especially when they met Beca’s across the kitchen, a whole room of space between them but they might as well be nose-to-nose again for all Beca noticed because they stared into her soul, opening all those doors to the multiverse, a million possible adventures if Beca let herself get lost in them.
And boy, did she.
She wanted to be embarrassed when they made eye contact, and part of her was, part of her was blushing and warm and trembly. But part of her also couldn’t really find a reason to look away. Emily had already caught her staring several times now and she was clearly looking back at Beca so…
Whatever.
This was her apartment and she could look if she wanted to.
And look she did. She looked and looked for hours, the discussion going late into the night until Beca was too tired to stay up, and still, she looked a little longer than that even, and then, eyes drooping, she finally went to bed.
//
Beca would never, ever , understand the Super lifestyle.
Because she had stayed up well into the evening and she was tired as hell. So tired that she needed to stop and get coffee on her way to work.
And yet… here was Emily, who had stayed up longer than Beca (had she even gone to bed?) and had clearly also gotten up earlier than Beca, because she was here, working at this coffee shop, chipper and friendly, while Beca yawned and grumped her way through the ordering process.
“Is not needing sleep one of your powers?” She mumbled under her breath as she leaned against the counter and watched Emily go through the process of making her latte.
Emily laughed lightly. “No, but… I need this job. I can’t call out.”
Beca frowned. “Ugh. That’s so fucking bogus.”
Emily hummed indifferently. “That’s life, isn’t it?”
“Well, it’s stupid. You deserve better.”
Emily pushed her glasses up on her nose and looked at Beca from under the brim of her cap. She bit her lip over a small smile and… okay there went Beca’s cool. She blushed, sure she was staring. Again .
“And here I thought you weren’t invested,” Emily teased.
“ Well ,” Beca shot back hotly. But that appeared to be the end of her argument as she once again succumbed to the power of those eyes.
Emily chuckled. “ Well ,” she agreed. She set Beca’s cup down in front of her. “Here’s your latte. And I guess I’ll see you around?”
“Hopefully,” Beca said, then cringed at herself. Cool line, Beca. Real cool.
Emily, because she was too good for her own good, just smiled like Beca wasn’t making a complete fool out of herself. “Great. Have a good day, then,” she said quietly, eyes soft on Beca’s.
Beca nodded, thinking it was probably best she stuck with nonverbal communication for now. She grabbed her latte, waved, then left the establishment as quickly as possible.
//
Not again , Beca thought as she opened the door to her apartment and found it full of Supers. Except Jesus, this was no late-night discussion room. This was a straight up makeshift ER.
Supers across every surface, groaning, patching each other up. Stacie, instructing two Supers how to properly splint ankles while simultaneously threading stitches through a different one’s cheekbone.
A Super on the couch, three on the living room floor, four slumped around the kitchen table. Familiar faces and new ones.
Supers. Supers everywhere.
“Jesus, what happened?” Beca asked Stacie, stepping over a Super passed out against the wall in the hallway. “It looks like a warzone.”
Stacie sighed, not looking up at Beca at all. “Inferno brought out the big guns. It wasn’t pretty.”
“Damn, this guy doesn’t quit…”
Stacie hummed, attention on the Super in front of her. “Yeah, it’s not looking so good. We’re trying our best, but he’s managed to stop every one of our plans.”
Beca frowned, peering around at all the Supers. “Wait, where’s Chloe?”
“Bedroom,” Stacie murmured. “She’s okay.”
“Oh.” Beca felt relief fill her stomach, because damn, Chloe was a pain in her ass, but like, she was still Chloe, so. It's not like Beca wanted her to be hurt. “Okay, well…” She hesitated, but what was she really gonna do? She just lived here. “Good luck.”
Stacie just nodded. Beca lingered for another second, then started for her bedroom. She stepped over another unconscious Super and opened the door.
She almost screamed, but she clamped down on the sound out of instinct. She immediately turned back around, storming out of the room.
“Stacie,” she hissed lowly, “Why is there someone in my bed?! Not cool, dude!”
Stacie grunted, distracted. “It’s just Emily. Chill.”
Beca blanched. “You let Emily in my bed?!”
“She took most of the damage and she needs to rest so she can heal up!” Stacie finally looked at her. She gestured around the apartment in exasperation. “And in case you couldn’t tell, there’s not exactly a good spot of floor to spare. I figured better her than anyone else, considering you’ve been drooling all over her for days.”
“I have not!” Beca said indignantly, but she was still whispering, so the effect was probably lost.
“Sure, Bec, whatever.”
Beca huffed, but rolled her eyes and stepped inside her room, shutting the door behind her.
Stupid Stacie. Stupid Supers.
Quietly, she changed out of her work clothes, then stepped up to the bed, peering at Emily through the blackness of the room, but with her door closed, it was too dark to see anything.
She flicked on her phone flashlight and held it up, shining it over Emily’s unconscious form.
“Fuck,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut.
Emily was… well, fucked up seemed like an understatement, but damn, she was fucked up.
Worse than ever, Beca thought. Because she was laying on her stomach, and from the dim light of her phone flashlight, Beca could see that under her thin tank top, the skin of the outer layers of her back and shoulders were burned away. Her body moved up and down with her breathing, but other than that, she didn’t seem to be close to any sort of waking or consciousness.
Beca grimaced.
She stormed back out of her room for the second time.
“Do you have any of that ointment?” She asked Stacie, who had moved on to a new unconscious Super.
Stacie gestured toward a big bin of supplies. “There should be some in there.”
“Emily is fucked up. How could they let this happen?”
Stacie raised an eyebrow. “Your girl has a savior complex, Beca. Get used to it. Thinks she’s a human shield just because she can regenerate.”
“Just because she heals doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel the pain. You should’ve seen her last time.” Beca dug through the bin, finally finding a few tubes of the ointment in a bag at the bottom. She grabbed one, then shot Stacie a look. “This Super stuff is fucked up, Stace.”
“Yeah,” Stacie said quietly, her gaze flicking to her bedroom door. She looked back at Beca, and an understanding, previously not felt, passed between them. She frowned. "I know.”
Beca sighed, then went back to her room again. She shut the door and climbed into the small slice of her bed not taken up by Emily’s sprawled out body. She crossed her legs underneath her and uncapped the tube, squeezing the now-familiar orange goop onto her hand. Carefully, methodically, she started rubbing it on Emily’s shoulders, over her arms, the back of her neck. She slid her hand under Emily’s tank top, shuddering when she could feel the damage under her fingers, the rough skin of Emily’s back.
She applied several coats, more than necessary probably, and she’d nearly emptied the tube when Emily stirred, just barely.
Her eyelids fluttered open, squinting at Beca in the dim light of the flashlight. “Beca?” She mumbled, then winced, her whole body shuddering. She let out a low moan.
“You’re fine,” Beca murmured softly. “Go back to sleep.”
Emily apparently didn’t need more prompting than that. Her eyes closed again and in seconds, her breathing had evened once more.
Beca sighed, then tossed the ointment on her end table. She went into her bathroom and washed her hands, got ready for bed.
Then she slid under the covers, in her tiny slice of space, turning on her side to look at the unconscious girl next to her, knowing she didn’t need to worry, but still worrying anyway.
Whatever, she thought, and it sounded a lot like she was trying to convince herself of a mantra she had held onto for so long. She just lived here.*[3]
//
Beca woke up warm. Really warm.
Like… almost unnaturally warm.
She grunted, squinting her eyes open. It was sunny and she was in her bed and there was another person also in her bed. And, her sleepy mind was slow to register, Beca’s arms were around this other person who was also in her bed. And, hm, they were spooning.
She took that in groggily, frowning. Then it sunk in.
Shit .
She immediately let go of Emily, rolling away in horror. Shit. Shit. Oh God shit --
“Noooo,” Emily whined, voice quiet and soft with sleep. “Come back.”
Beca’s heart entirely gave out. She just… died. Right there on the spot. Dead.
Not really.
But God .
She panicked. “Sorry. Sorry!” Her entire body felt on fire as she jolted straight into full-consciousness and wished for immediate death.
Emily shifted, rolling over on her back. She lolled her head at Beca, lips pulling upward, nose scrunching cutely. “It’s fine,” she murmured, hand reaching for Beca’s arm. “I’ve been awake for a bit.”
“Oh, God. You should’ve pushed me off.” Death, please , have mercy. Take her now.
“No, it was nice. I didn’t expect you to be a closet snuggler.”
“I’m not,” Beca shot back, mortified. “I hate snuggling!”
Emily grinned, chuckling. “Yeah, really seemed like it.”
Beca groaned, pressing her hands to her face. “Please let me die.”
“Oh, stop.” Emily grabbed one of her hands, pulling it away. She held onto it, giving it a squeeze. “Honestly. I…” She glanced away, uncharacteristically shy. “I’m sort of used to being the one with their arms around people. It was kind of a nice change… to be held for a second.” She looked back at Beca, clearly embarrassed. “So honestly, don’t worry about it.”
Beca’s intense mortification now suddenly twisted into something kind of sad. Super-shit… it was really just so fucked up, wasn’t it?
“Uh…” Beca cleared her throat. She squeezed Emily’s hand back. “Um. Right. Okay. Cool.”
Emily laughed. “Okay.”
Beca frowned, suddenly remembering the previous night. “Wait, how’s your back? Turn over.”
Emily let go of her hand, obediently rolling over. Beca sat up, and her eyes widened.
Damn, okay? Would she ever get used to this?
Because Emily was fine. Like it never even happened.
“Wow,” Beca hummed, impressed as all hell. “Well, either Stacie’s ointment is amazing or you’re just that powerful. Because you were seriously fucked up last night.”
Emily rolled back over, looking up at Beca. She raised an eyebrow. “You put that ointment on me again?”
Beca shrugged, trying to save face. “Just a little. Like. Barely.”
“Right.” Emily crinkled her nose. “So is that your thing now? Stacie stitches ‘em up and you apply the ointment. Beca Mitchell - ointment applicator.”
Beca scoffed. “Okay, that is not my title, and I’ve only ever applied ointment to you , so it’s not even accurate.”
Emily paused, lips twitching towards a smile. “Just to me, huh?”
“Uh,” Beca cringed. “I mean. If you would stop getting so fucked up, then it would be to nobody, so.”
“Mhmm…”
Okay, Emily really needed to stop looking at her like that. It wasn’t right, Beca thought. To look at a person like that. Like you’re everything good and special , especially when they were a person who literally saved people from fiery explosions and certain death. It just wasn’t fucking right.
“Can you stop looking at me like that?” She huffed. She flopped back down on her pillow in annoyance, trying to mask the way her entire body felt warm.
Emily furrowed her eyebrows. “Like what?”
“I don’t know!” Beca groaned. “Like… like…”
“Like I like you?” Emily teased. “Because I do.”
And now Beca wanted to die again. “Okay, you are not allowed to say that stuff and look that good. You have to pick one.”
Emily pulled a face. “Sorry?” She chuckled. “I can’t help what I look like.”
“Great, then keep your overwhelming thoughts to yourself.”
“Or what?”
“Or I might combust.”
Emily grinned. “Oh. So I can’t say I think you’re cute?”
Beca scoffed, her body very warm now. “Absolutely fucking not.”
“What about how I look forward to seeing you all the time?”
“ Emily !”
“Or…” Emily said, voice full of laughter. “That I really want to kiss you.”
Death, please for the love of God. Take her immediately. She couldn’t do this. It was way too much!!!
“That’s fine,” Beca managed to huff, her body on fire. “But don’t say it.”
Emily looked at her for a long moment, eyes traveling over Beca’s face. “So... can I?”
Beca didn’t answer. It was those eyes. Her damn Kryptonite. She leaned in and pressed their lips together herself.
Wow , Beca thought, her lips sliding between Emily’s, her entire body warmer than the sun. Emily's fingers settled on her cheek and she pushed closer to Beca, tangling their legs together under the sheets.
They kissed for several long moments, soft and slow, Beca's heart banging around her chest, until she remembered she hadn’t brushed her teeth and there were probably still a dozen Supers outside the room at this very moment.
She pulled back, breathless and flushed, and fluttered her eyes open.
She immediately, impossibly, flushed hotter, because Emily was looking at her like that again, her eyes so pretty and warm, an endless well of possibilities swimming in the irises.
“So?” Beca asked, voice weak, body entirely too hot.
Emily scrunched her nose. “So what?”
“So how was it?”
Emily grinned, toes pressing more firmly against Beca’s calves. She leaned in closer again, nuzzling their noses together. “Honestly?” She murmured, and Beca felt Emily’s smile on her lips. “Just super.”
And then she kissed Beca again.
//
Alright this Super-stuff was getting really inconvenient. Like out-of-hand inconvenient.
By now, Beca’s list of Super-related inconveniences went on and on, too long to even keep track of at this point, but add this one to the bottom: She was now trapped in her own room by Supers.
Okay, she wasn’t trapped . Not like, by actual force. But she was trapped by social judgment, which was, like, basically the same fucking thing.
After the events of the morning, Beca was feeling a certain type of way. A very gooey, warm certain type of way. Because it turned out, Supers had all kinds of strengths and apparently they didn’t stop at kissing. Apparently , they goddamn thrived when it came to kissing. Apparently , their powers of kissing could leave someone so stunningly breathless and immobile that Beca wasn’t sure why they didn’t just go around kissing every baddie they saw.
If she were a villain being kissed by Emily Junk, she’d just give up on the spot.
It was that simple.
And okay, that wasn’t really the inconvenience in question here, although being turned into an actual dopey, smiling moron because a girl kissed you was pretty fucking inconvenient. But no. This inconvenience stemmed from the situation outside her bedroom, which was this:
A dozen Supers once again circled around her kitchen table, seriously discussing ways to stop Inferno before he actually managed to completely destroy the city.
And sure, Beca could leave her room, could join the discussion or even just venture outside and do whatever the hell she wanted (hello this was still her apartment). But ugh , she just knew exactly what would happen if she went out there.
Emily would look at her, that cute smile pulling at her lips, and Beca would blush, turning into a gooey hot mess (which she currently was anyway, just in the safety of her closed-away room) and Stacie would notice . Chloe would literally feel it radiating off of her. And then they all would know.
And they would tease her. Endlessly.
She would never, ever escape from that area of teasing, actually, and between that inconvenience and the inconvenience of being trapped in her room, she chose her room, which at least let her lazily lay around in her mushy state all day and clearly was the lesser of two evils.
So yeah, it was pretty inconvenient, being trapped in her room all day, her smile pressed into the pillow, her body warm. She could hear snippets of the conversation through her closed door (“...actually might work…” “...element of surprise…”), but it was all just boring background noise to her current smitten state.
And really, it had nothing to do with her.
She just lived here.*[4]
//
Not aga-- Beca started to think out of habit as she opened her front door to see multiple people crowded in the living room. She froze midthought as Stacie, Emily, and Chloe all turned to look at her, whatever they’d been saying to each other immediately dying on their lips.
“Jesus Christ, Beca,” Stacie flung her arms in the air. “What happened?”
Okay, this was not the usual situation . That was typically her line.
She frowned. “What do you mean? Nothing happened.”
“Where have you been?” Chloe asked. “We all texted you!”
“At work?” Beca pulled out her phone to see she did indeed have about twelve texts and four missed calls. Whoops. She opened a text from Stacie. Do NOT come uptown GO HOME. Okay, duh, why the fuck would she go uptown??? “My phone was on DND, I was recording! What’s going on?”
“Inferno,” Emily explained. She pinched her nose. “Please tell me you saw the news. Or at least opened Twitter.”
Beca shrugged. “Um. I mean…” She looked around at all of them. “Okay, you guys know I didn’t.”
Stacie let out a long-suffering sigh. “This is my villain origin story, I swear to God.”
Beca rolled her eyes. “Okay, it’s not like I’m gonna do anything if there’s an attack! I’m just in the way.”
“It’s so you know where to go so you’re not in the way,” Chloe reasoned. “So we don’t have to worry that you’re dead .”
“Well, whatever! I’m fine.” She looked around at all of them, eyes narrowing at Emily who was… Not burned, beat to shit, or in any way injured. “Wait. What happened? You look… fine.”
Emily rolled her eyes, but followed it with a teasing smile. “Gee, thanks.”
“I just mean.” Beca frowned. “You’re not even hurt! Did you heal that fast?”
“No,” Emily laughed, looking around at Stacie and Chloe in slight disbelief. “No, um. We won.”
Beca blinked. “Won?”
“Inferno,” Chloe explained. “He’s dead.”
“That fire is extinguished,” Stacie agreed. “For good.”
“Oh,” Beca hummed, impressed. “Cool. Well. Congrats. Nice job, everyone.”
Emily looked at her in amusement. “Cool? Congrats? That’s all you're gonna say?”
“I mean, come on. I’ve seen this movie enough times to know how it ends, right? Villain attacks the city, Supers save the day, everything is fine, Superman gets the girl.” Beca shrugged. “Predictable.”
Stacie groaned in exasperation. “Wow, Beca. Just wow. I envy your ignorance. One of these days it’s gonna bite you in the ass.”
“Probably,” Beca agreed. “But not today I guess.”
Chloe laughed. “Come on,” she grabbed Stacie’s hand. “I need to celebrate this win with a long awaited nap.”
Stacie rolled her eyes at Beca one more time, but let Chloe drag her off to the bedroom.
“So,” Beca said, feeling suddenly very warm now that she was alone with Emily. “You did it.”
“Mhmm.” Emily said, lifting a teasing eyebrow. “But you expected nothing less, I see.”
Beca blushed. “It’s just… this is what always happens, you know?”
“Sure, the villain attacks, the city is saved, everything is fine.” Emily took a step closer, reaching out to tug lightly on Beca’s shirt. “I’m a bit interested in hearing more about that last part, though.”
“Last part?” Beca murmured, suddenly lost in Emily’s eyes, warm and focused on her. “Um. What last part?”
“The part where Superman gets the girl.”
Beca swallowed thickly, heat shooting up her cheeks. “Oh. Right.”
“Because I’m just wondering how that plays out in regards to this situation.”
“Well,” Beca said, feeling an unusual surge of confidence rush through her body with Emily looking at her like that. She brought her hands up, gripping behind Emily’s neck and tugging her closer. “I guess in this situation, you’re obviously Superman.”
Emily grinned, her arms wrapping around Beca’s waist. “I see. So I guess that makes you the girl.”
“It looks that way.”
“And, just to be clear,” Emily said softly, leaning forward, her lips a centimeter from Beca’s. “If Superman gets the girl, and I’m Superman, and you’re the girl, then… I get to kiss you now.”
“That’s the, uh, the predictable movie thing, yeah,” Beca agreed breathlessly.
Emily chuckled lowly and Beca felt it reverberate on her lips. “So... can I?”
Beca didn’t answer. She rocked up on her tiptoes and kissed Emily her damn self.
Emily leaned into the kiss enthusiastically, tilting her head to the side to immediately deepen it. Her hands slid to the backs of Beca’s thighs and, without warning, tugged Beca closer, lifting her up into the air. Beca let out a squeak, her legs instinctively wrapping around Emily’s waist.
Okay. This was a new but good development. Yeah. Okay, Beca liked this.
Emily hummed happily, her smile bright against Beca’s lips. “Hey, you wanna go out?”
Beca, dizzy and warm, blinked. “Out?”
“Like on a date. Now that the bad guy is defeated.”
Beca scrunched her nose. “Um. But won’t there be more bad guys? There’s always more bad guys.”
“Well, yeah,” Emily agreed. “But you probably won’t be paying attention enough to know.”
Beca laughed. “Okay, fair. Yeah, alright. I’ll go out with you. But maybe we can start tomorrow because now I’d like to continue this, like, in my room. Just in case someone decides to make use of the balcony.”
Emily hummed in agreement, her lips finding purchase on Beca’s chin, her jaw, several places on her neck, as she started to walk them toward Beca’s room.
And okay, Beca thought, her eyes shutting when Emily slid their lips together once again, maybe when it came to Supers, Beca had a very long list of relevant inconveniences.
But the way Emily could pick her up, kiss her, walk her to the bedroom, and make Beca feel like jelly without even breaking a sweat?
Definitely not one of them.