A/N: So sometimes when I struggle with RtB, I open a new doc and just start typing literally any other shit I can think of. Sometimes I get a nice head of steam going on the random shit and it turns into a thing that further distracts me from RtB. Such is the case here. I am the worst.
Is there a second part to this? You bet there is. Is it finished? Of course not, who the fuck do you think I am? Soon after starting the second chapter, I actually thought of how maybe I should make it two more chaps. This is why I never finish anything. I'm sorry.
On a sunny Sunday morning after a very successful, very late night spinning at a popular club downtown, Beca Mitchell dragged her sorry ass out of bed and fumbled with her coffee machine until it started dripping the nectar of the gods into the pot.
Then she leaned her elbows on the kitchen counter and stared at it until the pot contained enough coffee to fill a mug, which she did. Then she replaced the pot and shuffled to her living room with the life affirming gurgle of brewing coffee at her back.
She plopped down on the couch and sipped as much of the scalding liquid as she could without doing permanent damage to her esophagus, then set down the mug and picked up the TV remote. Before she could press the power button, she was startled into dropping it with an undignified clatter to the wooden surface of her coffee table by a very loud, very suspicious thump.
The thump came from beyond her sliding glass door, which concerned her (in a slightly distant, sleepily confused sort of way) not just because such a sound was unusual but because her sliding glass door opened onto her balcony, which was four stories up.
She made her way over with some semblance of speed and yanked back the curtains, wondering if she was about to see maybe Supergirl or something equally impossible. What she saw was a woman holding a small, fluffy black cat, which was possibly more bizarre than Supergirl would have been.
The woman had bright red hair and wide blue eyes. She was wearing a tank top and pajama pants above her bare feet. Oddly enough, she looked kind of like she was the one who was surprised.
Ever the picture of eloquence, Beca slid open the door and said tiredly, "Where the fuck did you come from?"
"My cat," the redhead said, clutching the furry creature with both arms and jerking her chin toward the next balcony over. "I let him out to enjoy the sunshine and he jumped over to your balcony. So I - I had to come get him."
The balconies were separated by about three feet off empty air. Beca wasn't sure which was more impressive - that the scruffy little cat made the jump or that the woman did.
"I'm only halfway through my first cup of coffee and I can't actually process this," Beca said. "So you should just, like, come in."
"I don't want to be a bother," the woman said, turning her head uncertainly toward her own balcony. "I could just-"
"Sweet christ, please don't," Beca said, stepping aside and waving her in.
"Thanks," the woman said as she stepped inside.
Had she been more awake Beca would likely have had a panic attack about her state of dress, but as it was she simply didn't have the wherewithal to notice that she was wearing nothing but Spider-Man underwear and an extra large T-shirt, let alone be ashamed of it.
"No problem," Beca replied as she bent to pick up her coffee mug. She took a sip as her foggy brain finally noticed that her bizarre, apparently acrobatic neighbor was actually pretty. Also pretty hot and heading quickly for the door.
"Thanks again," she called over her shoulder as she threw the bolt and opened the door.
"Anytime," Beca replied. Then she gave herself a nice facepalm and decided there was really no point in trying to rectify the statement, since she was half asleep and prone to saying stupid shit to pretty girls and anyway, said pretty girl was already out the door.
Beca settled back onto her couch, muttered "Well, that was something," and picked up her remote.
She was startled into dropping it by a knock at the door.
She was not at all surprised, though, when she opened the door to find a redhead holding a small black cat.
"So, my door is locked," she said, her chuckle bashful and her eyes hopeful.
"Of course it is," Beca said, swinging the door wide and sweeping a hand toward her living room.
"I'm really sorry to be such a bother."
"I'm Beca," Beca replied. She unlocked her phone, found the number for building maintenance, and handed the device over.
"I'm Chloe. Thank you so much."
Beca headed to the kitchen to top off her coffee and watched as Chloe used one hand to call and ask politely that someone let her into her apartment and used the other hand to clasp the now squirming cat against her chest.
"You can put it down," Beca offered after Chloe had hung up.
"Thanks," Chloe said, releasing her hold and allowing the energetic little beast to leap out of her arms. "His name's Major. Short for Major Beans."
Beca, having ingested enough caffeine that she was operating at at least sixty-five percent brain power, pulled a clean mug from the rack and waved it about. "Coffee?"
"Oh god, yes please," Chloe said. She came into the kitchen and laid Beca's phone on the island.
"So, that tiny cat," Beca said, looking past Chloe to watch Major slowly pushing a coaster off the coffee table, "leapt all the way over to my balcony."
"He's a very good jumper," Chloe said proudly. "He's still a kitten, really. Only six months old."
"Yeah, OK, but then," Beca said, as her brain function continued to improve, "then you leapt across three feet of open air, four stories up, instead of just walking over and knocking on my door?"
"I panicked," Chloe said with a shrug, helping herself to sugar and creamer. "He's my baby."
"Huh," Beca said. "Well, good job not dying."
"Thanks," Chloe said, flashing a big smile before bringing her mug to her lips.
Beca just nodded. She was kind of out of things to say, as small talk wasn't her specialty.
"So, I'm not trying to tell you what to do in your own home or anything, and it's not that I mind at all," Chloe said, "but are you aware that you aren't wearing any pants?"
"I am now," Beca said. She felt her face flush red and turned on her heel to head for her bedroom.
Chloe was hovering uncertainly near the kitchen island with the coffee mug in her hands when Beca returned wearing sweatpants. She'd briefly considered changing into a better fitting t-shirt, but decided that would only make it look like she was trying to make a good impression on the clearly insane woman who lived next door.
The whole awkward situation was temporary anyway. As soon as maintenance showed up to unlock Chloe's door, she'd go home and they'd just return to being strangers who never saw or spoke to one another. For Beca, this was ideal. The fewer chances she had to humiliate herself in front of criminally beautiful women, the better.
"They said they'd send someone as soon as possible," Chloe offered as Beca sank back onto her couch. Major immediately jumped into her lap and sat on her knees. They stared each other in the eye. Beca was doing it mostly to avoid looking at Chloe. She didn't know what the cat's motivation was.
"He's friendly," Beca observed. Major meowed and started rubbing his head against Beca's chin. She didn't recoil, but she didn't start petting him or anything, either.
"He really likes you," Chloe said. She walked over and settled herself into the opposite corner of the couch.
"He has low standards," Beca said, and Major draped himself across her torso and tucked his face into the crook of her neck, purring like mad.
"Hey! He just appreciates that you saved us."
"He's a cat."
"He's smarter than you think," Chloe countered.
"He jumped off a balcony," Beca said. She'd started stroking his fur at some point, she realized.
"So did I."
Beca turned to stare at her. Chloe stared back. "Did you think at all before you did that, about like, I don't know, falling?"
"No," Chloe said. "I just climbed onto the railing and jumped."
"You're the scariest person I've ever met."
"Thanks," Chloe said, smiling.
Beca blinked a few times and said, "Do you mind if I turn on the TV?"
Chloe laughed. It was a sparkly thing, that laugh, and Beca smiled before she could stop herself. "This is your place, Becs," Chloe finally said. "You don't need my permission."
"Right." Beca executed a complicated maneuver in order to reach the remote without disturbing Major. He responded to her thoughtfulness by climbing all over her body a few times before ultimately curling into a warm, fluffy ball in her lap.
"Aww, you're both so smol," Chloe said. She ignored Beca's scoff and asked, "What are we watching?"
"Killjoys."
"Killjoys?"
"Yeah, it's uh, about this chick and her two friends and they're, like, bounty hunters, sort of? In space. Sort of." Beca furrowed her brows. "It's better than I make it sound. It has really excellent swearing."
"Who needs plot when you have excellent swearing?" Chloe teased.
"It also has - you know what, nevermind."
"I was serious!"
"Yeah, OK," Beca huffed.
"OK, I was teasing you a little," Chloe said. "I do enjoy creative cursing, though."
"You should try Killjoys, then," Beca said.
"I will," Chloe said. After watching Beca stare, unmoving, at the TV a for a few seconds, she added, "Press buttons. Make the show go."
"No," Beca said as she exited her DVR menu. "It's just, it's on the third season and a lot of shit has gone down, you know? I don't wanna ruin it. You should start from the beginning."
"Yeah," Chloe said thoughtfully. "I guess so."
"I'm sure there's something else on."
Beca was still flipping through channels five minutes later when there was a knock on the door. She felt slightly proud that she didn't drop the remote this time.
Chloe collected her kitten and headed for the door, thanking Beca yet again. Beca trailed along after her and awkwardly accepted a one armed hug before closing her door and leaning against it for a moment.
She blew out a breath and then made her way to the kitchen, where she refilled her mug before returning to her couch and finally starting the show she'd had on her DVR since Friday.
She played it twice, since she wasn't really paying attention the first time through due to repeated daydreams about incredibly attractive neighbors and fluffy kittens, which was embarrassing and something she would never admit to another living being, ever.
A/N: This story was born after someone reminded me of the time we bet some guy a beer he couldn't jump from his balcony to ours, and he did it. It is also inspired by my new kitten.