Hey, guys. Yet another bechloe story bouncing around in my head. I apologize I'm advance.
Disclaimer: I still don't own Pitch Perfect or any of the characters of the franchise.
"So, I ran into Jesse on the way here." Chloe says casually as she plops down next to you.
"Oh?" You respond cautiously. "That's... Nice?"
"Oh, yeah, totes." You don't realize that she's being sarcastic until she talks again. "It was especially nice when he managed to call me a slut, a whore, and a hooker all in one sentence."
"He's just... hurt right now, Chlo. I'm sure he didn't mean it." You halfheartedly protest.
She raises her eyebrows at you. "Seriously, Beca? He's 20 years old, for god's sake. He knows how to filter his words and he's making a conscious effort to spew out all of his thoughts and I am sick of it."
"It's not his fault, Chlo. I broke his heart!" You don't know exactly when this turned into a fight, but it's too late to fix it now. You're about to continue when you realize that she's getting up to leave. "Chloe? Where are you going?"
"I didn't think you were the type of person who would defend your ex's actions towards your best friend." She spits in lieu of an answer. "I guess I was wrong. Silly me for believing that you cared about me."
"I do care about you, Chloe!" You protest.
"Save it, Beca. I don't want to hear it."
And that's when it hits you that Chloe is actually leaving right now. She's walking out of your door (most likely walking out of your life), slamming it behind her without looking back at you even once. And it takes you a moment to really register that she's gone, but once you understand you're on your feet, throwing the door open and calling out "Chloe, wait!" But she's gone, nowhere in sight, and you can't seem to think of where she'd go. Granted, you can't seem to think at all right now, and so you go inside and sit down on your bed.
You're not sure what you're doing outside Chloe's apartment, dripping wet, rain water rolling off of you onto the floor as you shiver, knocking on the door. You still aren't sure by the time Aubrey opens the door, regarding you with disinterest until she realizes what state you're in and her eyes widen in concern. "Chloe! Get out here!" She demands, grabbing your arm. "And bring some towels!" You still aren't sure why you're there when Aubrey tugs you inside, muttering at you under her breath. And when you hear Chloe's footsteps as she runs down the hall, coming to an abrupt halt as she sees you, you think that maybe you're regretting coming over here because Chloe looks shocked and then she's racing towards you. Concern flits through her eyes as she grabs you, making you breath a sigh of relief, and then Chloe's cursing at you.
"Goddamn it, Beca, what the hell are you thinking?" She shrieks. "Do you want to fucking die? Because that's what might happen if you fucking get goddamn pneumonia!" As she rants at you, she grabs a towel, struggling in vein to dry you off. Finally, with a sigh, Chloe drops the towel and starts unbuttoning your plaid flannel, stripping it from your arms and dropping it on the floor, only to find your white tank top soaked through, leaving your red bra visible. And if you hadn't already been shivering, you're pretty sure Chloe would've felt the shudder run through you as she practically undressed you. Aubrey, however, seems to have noticed it because she merely winks at you before slipping past Chloe and into her room.
You push Chloe's arms away, stripping off your tank top and your jeans on your own, dropping them on top of your flannel. Chloe sighs, handing you the towel, seemingly understanding that you don't want her to touch you. There's an almost hidden sadness in Chloe's eyes that you can barely see, but it's there, and it sends a sharp pain into the pit of your stomach. Because this is Chloe, your bubbly best friend who never lets anything bring her down. Until now, it seems. "Becs," She starts hesitantly, stepping forward. "I'm... I'm really sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have just run off like that. I should've tried to talk to you, but I panicked, and-."
You shake your head, cutting her off with a soft murmur of "It's alright, Chlo." You sigh, running a hand through your hair. "I mean, you don't owe me any explanations, you know? I get it. Coming here was a stupid idea. I should be apologizing."
But Chloe's shaking her head at you vehemently. "No, Becs. I'm glad you came over. I need to explain things." She walks over to the other towel, handing it to you. You take it with a grateful smile, wrapping it around yourself, following her to her room. She rummages through her dresser drawers, humming to herself. She let's out an "Aha!", moving over to you and handing you a T-shirt and a pair of her sweats, which you accept with a grateful smile. After removing your undergarments, you tug the shirt over your head (it's fairly big on Chloe and it pretty much dwarfs you, hanging awkwardly from your thin frame) and slip into the sweatpants. You don't bother tightening the waistband, instead allowing it to dip lower than is probably appropriate (the shirt falls to your thighs, anyways, so you're decent). You glance up just as Chloe sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, biting on it for a moment before seemingly realizing that you're looking at her. She releases her lip and gives you a sheepish smile as if you caught her doing something embarrassing. "So, I... um... I..." Her next words fade to an incoherent mumble as you strain to hear her, and so you ask her to say it again. She blushes, letting out a deep breath before saying clearly "I'm in love with you."
Only you aren't sure if she said it that clearly at all, because you're pretty sure that whatever she just said could not have been what you heard (even though you desperately want it to be) because this is Chloe Beale. The girl could (and does) have anyone she wanted wrapped around her little finger, and so you can't help but to think: why me?
But Chloe answers that question as she slowly moves towards you, as if you're a wild deer that she doesn't want to startle away. And it's only when Chloe's words begin to register that you realize you voiced your thoughts and that she aims to answer you. "Because I do?" She starts with a small laugh. "Because you're an ass to everyone you come in contact with, but you're not like that around me. Because of how sexy you look with your dark makeup and skinny jeans and plaid shirts that give you your 'I don't really give a shit' look. And let's not forget your 'ear monstrosities'." And dear god, she's going to be the death of you, because she just put air quotes around Aubrey's phrase and looked ridiculously cute doing it. "Because you watch movies with me to make me happy. Because you aren't so focused on my looks that you forget about my personality. Because of the time that you punched Tom to defend me because he was being an ass. Because you stood up to Aubrey and said everything I wanted to say but was too scared to." She pauses now for breath, her cheeks flushed, as she comes to a stop in front of you. "Because you're beautiful, Becs, through and through." She manages, reaching out to trace her finger from your cheekbone until her hand is brushing your jawline, leaving her hand there. "Can I kiss you, Beca?" She asks, her voice a dangerously low murmur.
You can't say no to her. No, scratch that. You don't want to. You want to feel her lips pressed against your own almost as much as you want (need) her to be happy. Instead of saying no, you nod as you somehow croak out "Please."
Chloe inches impossibly closer, her lips hovering a few mere centimeters away from yours. She's so close that you can feel the heat of her breath on your face and smell her strawberry lip gloss. And damn it all to hell, but you need her to kiss you and your breath hitches right as you let out a needy whimper.
Her cool, soft lips press against yours, tentative, and it's not like fireworks or tingles or anything else that you've been expecting. In fact, it's not anything, because you can't think or breathe or move. She pulls back, studying your face with a small frown, and that's when you realize that you didn't kiss her back. You tangle your hands in her ginger curls, tugging her head closer to you and slanting your lips over hers, erasing any insecurities she might have. Her hands grip your hips as she eagerly returns your kiss, moving closer until your body is pressed against hers in every possible way, sandwiching you between her and the wall of her room. "I love you." She whispers into your ear, biting softly on the lobe of it.
You let out a muffled groan into her shoulder, biting down on it. "I love you too." The words barely pass your lips before Chloe's tugging you backwards, pulling you on top of her as she collapses onto her bed. Her thumbs slide under the shirt she lent you, hands moving steadily upwards until she tugs it over your head, throwing it blindly away, attaching your lips with hers.
You follow her example, ripping her shirt off of her, fully content to spend hours with her, doing this.
I know that was a crappy place to end it, but I don't do lemons. This'll probably be a two-shot or (possibly) a three-shot, based on the reaction it gets. Love you awesome nerds.