FIC: Gibbs' Barista - NCIS
The promised fic has arrived!
Title: Gibbs’ Barista
Author: Lyl (lyl_devil)
Rating: PG
Beta: tygermama
Disclaimer: NCIS does not belong to me, I just like to play with their characters. Also, I claim no rights to Starbucks, I just like to make fun of them.
Summary: It takes a special kind of person to work at Gibbs’ favourite Starbucks.
Warning: OC POV!!
~!~
The early morning rush is just starting, and already Ella is ready to murder someone. Her victim of choice at the moment is the air head blonde manning the cash register, who gives dumb blondes a bad name.
“No, wait - that was a grande chai latte with non-fat organic milk and a peppermint flavour shot,” the blonde headed bimbo calls out, ending with a giggle that could cut glass.
Ella purses her lips and tosses the beginnings of the wrong drink down the drain.
“Try to find your happy place,” murmurs Kevin in her ear, reaching around her for the espresso press.
“Can I bury her in my happy place?” Kevin, typically, ignores her. He’s been working the counter at this Starbucks almost as long as she has, but has found a more Zen headspace than she ever will. At least when dealing with new hires with an IQ lower than her hourly wage.
“I swear to whatever God is listening, I’m quitting this hell soon.” Kevin continues to ignore her, like he’s been doing for the last four years.
Ella keeps one eye on the air head at cash, and goes about making up the orders as they’re slowly called. At 6am, the rush has barely started, yet the line is already out the door, and moving much slower than usual. Normally, the bottleneck happens with the baristas and not at the cash, with overachieving, self-involved individuals stridently demanding their overly pretentious caffeine fixes so they can go to whatever job they have where they are ‘the most important person ever’.
Then again, most mornings don’t have someone manning the register who can’t count back change for a five on a four thirty seven coffee.
Really. Mike needs to stop hiring people based on their cup sizes.
The job isn’t all bad, new hires notwithstanding. Their Assistant Manager, who is scheduled to work most morning shifts, is currently trying to sleep his way into a hangover, since showing up drunk a half hour ago. Again. It allows for a lot of leeway and freedom, which none of them are really complaining about. And Ella, Kevin and Shona always have a good time working - when they’re all out front.
The new girl had apparently taken exception to the way Shona kept calling her ‘New Girl’, to which Shona had replied ‘If you make it to the end of the week, then I might consider learning your name.’ Five minutes later, Blondie said something that had Shona storming into the back room in a homicidal rage, and they’d been down a cashier ever since. They’ve worked the counter with three before - though four is better - and it hadn’t been a problem then, but usually the third is moderately competent and has at least some small amount of common sense. That lack is seriously noticeable, and is promising to make the rest of the morning completely miserable.
“This should be interesting,” Ella hears Kevin whisper, glee filling his voice.
Glancing up, Ella catches sight of a very familiar grey head approaching the cash, and quickly looks back down to the drink she’s making, trying to hide her grin.
This is going to be epic.
“Coffee. Black,” comes the familiar demand.
“What kind of coffee?” asks Blondie, tacking on one of her irritating giggles that someone had probably once told her was cute, while trying to get into her pants.
Looking out of the corner of her eye, Ella watches as his eyes narrow at the sound.
“Hot. Black.”
“But what kind?” she repeats a little slower, like he’s mentally damaged. “We have several different blends - those are like flavours. And then there’s the different roasts. Today we have-“
“Coffee. In a cup. With a lid,” he interrupts, his tone conveying that she is the mentally slow one in this conversation.
Beside her, Kevin tries to cover up a snort with a cough. Then, because he’s an awesome friend who totally feels her pain, calls out, “Hey, New Girl, you want to speed it up a little? If I wanted to sit around all day doing my nails, I’d go work for the FBI.”
Kevin really has a hate-on for the feds for some reason.
Turning her head a little more, Ella can see that the regular is just staring at the new girl with a look that says ‘why haven’t you brought me my coffee yet’ and ‘you better have a good excuse and it better be somebody dying’. She’s been subjected to it numerous times over the years, and has since become immune to it, but that doesn’t curtail her amusement of seeing it used on someone else.
“But what- we - blends - size - “ Blondette just starts to stutter incoherently, and Ella knows it’s only a matter of time.
A few of their other regulars are standing behind him, not even trying to hid their vindictive smiles, at both the situation and Kevin’s comment. They’re all caffeine addicts that are being denied their morning fix, and that never leads to anything good.
“Coffee. Black,” he repeates once the new girl had rambled herself into silence. “Now!” He doesn’t even raise his voice, just changes the tone to one she remembers her father was fond of using when he failed to remember his kids weren’t his recruits.
The tone seems to have done it, because no sooner has the word left his lips, than Miss Blonde C Cup bursts into tears and runs into the back room.
Kevin starts snickering before the door even closes behind her, and Ella finally looks up. Just in time to see those blue eyes pin her with the same look he’s been giving their soon-to-be-former cashier.
Ella holds up a cup of coffee in front of her like it can protect her, and walks over to the cash, just as Shona comes running from the back room, grinning.
“Ella, what did you do?” she demands, waiting expectantly for delicious new gossip. “Did you finally threaten to beat her to death with the milk frother?”
“I didn’t say a word,” Ella defends. “Take over the cash, please.” Shona takes one look at the guy on the other side of the counter, and if anything, her grin widens in delight.
“Awesome,” she says, then starts cackling in delicious glee. Ella frowns and is about to say something else, but Shona actually gets to work, so she lets it go. Turning back to the grey haired guy who has just made her morning ever so much better, she hands him his coffee like she has almost every morning for the last five years.
“We got a new blend in. I think you’ll like it,” she tells him. He looks at her suspiciously, but she waits patiently for him to take a tentative sniff, then a sip, before nodding his approval. She hasn’t steered him wrong in years, and that trust is paying off.
She knows he wants his coffee strong, dark, hot, and to actually taste like coffee - none of these flavoured coffees, or even coffees that taste like something else. Coffee should taste like coffee should taste like coffee.
Why he comes here, she really doesn’t know, because he can get better, cheaper and less pretentious coffee two blocks over, but then she wouldn’t get scenes like this morning, and that would be a shame.
He goes to pay for his overpriced caffeine and Ella stops him with a brisk hand movement.
“On the house.” At his questioning look, she explains, “For getting rid of the air head. I would have done it, but my boss threatened to cut my hours if I scared off any more newbies.”
He seems oddly amused by that, but Ella doesn’t try to decipher why.
“Ella?” he questions, as if testing the name out. At her hesitant nod, he nods back, saying, “Gibbs.”
He raises the cup in a small salute, a little smile on his face, turns and leaves.
Ella watches him go, staring after him with a small frown on her face. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she forces her mind back to work and the hundreds upon hundreds of coffees and other drinks she’ll be making before going home today.
Still, she feels a little lighter as she goes through the movements.
Gibbs. She has a name.
It only took five years.
END
Next Time: Gibbs and his moustache are in for a surprise.
Title: Gibbs’ Barista
Author: Lyl (lyl_devil)
Rating: PG
Beta: tygermama
Disclaimer: NCIS does not belong to me, I just like to play with their characters. Also, I claim no rights to Starbucks, I just like to make fun of them.
Summary: It takes a special kind of person to work at Gibbs’ favourite Starbucks.
Warning: OC POV!!
~!~
The early morning rush is just starting, and already Ella is ready to murder someone. Her victim of choice at the moment is the air head blonde manning the cash register, who gives dumb blondes a bad name.
“No, wait - that was a grande chai latte with non-fat organic milk and a peppermint flavour shot,” the blonde headed bimbo calls out, ending with a giggle that could cut glass.
Ella purses her lips and tosses the beginnings of the wrong drink down the drain.
“Try to find your happy place,” murmurs Kevin in her ear, reaching around her for the espresso press.
“Can I bury her in my happy place?” Kevin, typically, ignores her. He’s been working the counter at this Starbucks almost as long as she has, but has found a more Zen headspace than she ever will. At least when dealing with new hires with an IQ lower than her hourly wage.
“I swear to whatever God is listening, I’m quitting this hell soon.” Kevin continues to ignore her, like he’s been doing for the last four years.
Ella keeps one eye on the air head at cash, and goes about making up the orders as they’re slowly called. At 6am, the rush has barely started, yet the line is already out the door, and moving much slower than usual. Normally, the bottleneck happens with the baristas and not at the cash, with overachieving, self-involved individuals stridently demanding their overly pretentious caffeine fixes so they can go to whatever job they have where they are ‘the most important person ever’.
Then again, most mornings don’t have someone manning the register who can’t count back change for a five on a four thirty seven coffee.
Really. Mike needs to stop hiring people based on their cup sizes.
The job isn’t all bad, new hires notwithstanding. Their Assistant Manager, who is scheduled to work most morning shifts, is currently trying to sleep his way into a hangover, since showing up drunk a half hour ago. Again. It allows for a lot of leeway and freedom, which none of them are really complaining about. And Ella, Kevin and Shona always have a good time working - when they’re all out front.
The new girl had apparently taken exception to the way Shona kept calling her ‘New Girl’, to which Shona had replied ‘If you make it to the end of the week, then I might consider learning your name.’ Five minutes later, Blondie said something that had Shona storming into the back room in a homicidal rage, and they’d been down a cashier ever since. They’ve worked the counter with three before - though four is better - and it hadn’t been a problem then, but usually the third is moderately competent and has at least some small amount of common sense. That lack is seriously noticeable, and is promising to make the rest of the morning completely miserable.
“This should be interesting,” Ella hears Kevin whisper, glee filling his voice.
Glancing up, Ella catches sight of a very familiar grey head approaching the cash, and quickly looks back down to the drink she’s making, trying to hide her grin.
This is going to be epic.
“Coffee. Black,” comes the familiar demand.
“What kind of coffee?” asks Blondie, tacking on one of her irritating giggles that someone had probably once told her was cute, while trying to get into her pants.
Looking out of the corner of her eye, Ella watches as his eyes narrow at the sound.
“Hot. Black.”
“But what kind?” she repeats a little slower, like he’s mentally damaged. “We have several different blends - those are like flavours. And then there’s the different roasts. Today we have-“
“Coffee. In a cup. With a lid,” he interrupts, his tone conveying that she is the mentally slow one in this conversation.
Beside her, Kevin tries to cover up a snort with a cough. Then, because he’s an awesome friend who totally feels her pain, calls out, “Hey, New Girl, you want to speed it up a little? If I wanted to sit around all day doing my nails, I’d go work for the FBI.”
Kevin really has a hate-on for the feds for some reason.
Turning her head a little more, Ella can see that the regular is just staring at the new girl with a look that says ‘why haven’t you brought me my coffee yet’ and ‘you better have a good excuse and it better be somebody dying’. She’s been subjected to it numerous times over the years, and has since become immune to it, but that doesn’t curtail her amusement of seeing it used on someone else.
“But what- we - blends - size - “ Blondette just starts to stutter incoherently, and Ella knows it’s only a matter of time.
A few of their other regulars are standing behind him, not even trying to hid their vindictive smiles, at both the situation and Kevin’s comment. They’re all caffeine addicts that are being denied their morning fix, and that never leads to anything good.
“Coffee. Black,” he repeates once the new girl had rambled herself into silence. “Now!” He doesn’t even raise his voice, just changes the tone to one she remembers her father was fond of using when he failed to remember his kids weren’t his recruits.
The tone seems to have done it, because no sooner has the word left his lips, than Miss Blonde C Cup bursts into tears and runs into the back room.
Kevin starts snickering before the door even closes behind her, and Ella finally looks up. Just in time to see those blue eyes pin her with the same look he’s been giving their soon-to-be-former cashier.
Ella holds up a cup of coffee in front of her like it can protect her, and walks over to the cash, just as Shona comes running from the back room, grinning.
“Ella, what did you do?” she demands, waiting expectantly for delicious new gossip. “Did you finally threaten to beat her to death with the milk frother?”
“I didn’t say a word,” Ella defends. “Take over the cash, please.” Shona takes one look at the guy on the other side of the counter, and if anything, her grin widens in delight.
“Awesome,” she says, then starts cackling in delicious glee. Ella frowns and is about to say something else, but Shona actually gets to work, so she lets it go. Turning back to the grey haired guy who has just made her morning ever so much better, she hands him his coffee like she has almost every morning for the last five years.
“We got a new blend in. I think you’ll like it,” she tells him. He looks at her suspiciously, but she waits patiently for him to take a tentative sniff, then a sip, before nodding his approval. She hasn’t steered him wrong in years, and that trust is paying off.
She knows he wants his coffee strong, dark, hot, and to actually taste like coffee - none of these flavoured coffees, or even coffees that taste like something else. Coffee should taste like coffee should taste like coffee.
Why he comes here, she really doesn’t know, because he can get better, cheaper and less pretentious coffee two blocks over, but then she wouldn’t get scenes like this morning, and that would be a shame.
He goes to pay for his overpriced caffeine and Ella stops him with a brisk hand movement.
“On the house.” At his questioning look, she explains, “For getting rid of the air head. I would have done it, but my boss threatened to cut my hours if I scared off any more newbies.”
He seems oddly amused by that, but Ella doesn’t try to decipher why.
“Ella?” he questions, as if testing the name out. At her hesitant nod, he nods back, saying, “Gibbs.”
He raises the cup in a small salute, a little smile on his face, turns and leaves.
Ella watches him go, staring after him with a small frown on her face. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she forces her mind back to work and the hundreds upon hundreds of coffees and other drinks she’ll be making before going home today.
Still, she feels a little lighter as she goes through the movements.
Gibbs. She has a name.
It only took five years.
END
Next Time: Gibbs and his moustache are in for a surprise.