Hi everybody! This is my first Kommissar fic, so I will get better in time. Enjoy. :)
It's the after party at Worlds, and Beca swears Fat Amy is trying to kill her from embarrassment. She just had to tease Pieter about losing Worlds, and of course he had to challenge her on the dance floor. And of course that tall drink of water called Kommissar just had to accompany him, along with the rest of Das Sound Machine.
So many levels of unfair.
So there's a dance off, and Beca's swaying in the background. Swaying counts as dancing, right? Maybe not, but Fat Amy's dancing enough for the whole group. Popping and locking, or some kind of enthusiastic equivalent. Either way, Beca's too buzzed to care.
High off of victory and tipsy from the open bar's strong alcohols, Beca simply nods her head to the pounding beat and watches the competition going on. Well, it's really just Amy and Pieter that are competing, everybody else is just dancing for the fun of it. Kommissar might be dancing to kill.
Beca can't help noticing how the motion of Kommissar's hips is positively wicked. Her gyrating is smooth and dangerous and oh, what a way to go. If Kommissar's dance skills really are lethal, Beca can't imagine a better last image.
She catches her self thinking that, chokes, and coughs like an idiot.
Heads turn.
Including Kommissar's.
Beca prays to the a cappella gods to let the dance floor swallow her.
She just keeps coughing.
Figures.
If she doesn't die from the humiliation, her burning cheeks might melt the rest of her.
She escapes to the bar. Oh sweet, sweet alcohol. She hopes to avoid everyone else till tomorrow, when the moment has been forgotten in a blurred mess of drunken memories. She has no such luck.
"Is the kleine maus okay?" A sultry voice asks from behind the vodka-downing Bella, she nearly chokes again.
"I'm fine." She turns, her arms crossing to give her more personal space from the towering blonde. It works only minimally.
"Good. I would hate for the leader of the Bella's to, ah how do they say, croak on the dance floor the night of their victory. It would seem rather suspicious, no?"
"I'm fine." Beca says, blushing an even deeper shade of red. She didn't think that was possible at this point.
"Don't you have a dance floor to dominate?" She blurts out, flustered. Kommissar shrugs, an amused little smirk lifting her cheekbones even higher.
Beca tries not to stare at them.
She fails.
"So you were staring at me. I knew it. Pieter owes me."
"I was not! Besides, you're so tall, it's impossible to not look at you!"
"Feisty maus, always so tense."
"I'm not tense- and stop calling me a maus, I'mnot a mouse. I'ma-a... Something else. I'm something else. Probably drunk." She mutters that last bit under her breath. Kommissar hears it anyway and chuckles.
"And why should I not call you that? You are so small, you can barely handle any alcohol."
"I bet I can drink more than you." Beca snaps, emboldened by pride and the two shots of vodka already warming her stomach. Kommissar quirks one immaculate eyebrow.
"You're challenging me. Really?"
"Really, really." She winces at that, her eyes squeezing as she internally berates herself for such an elementary grade taunt.
"Fine. Let's hope you can hold your liquor, häschen, as I'm not in the mood to be puked upon."
"Did you just call me... a bunny rabbit?" Beca asks, confused. Kommissar smirks, her painted lips red and glistening under the flashing lights.
"You said not to call you a maus." Beca narrows her eyes, her fingers snapping distractedly at the bartender for a line of shots, her free finger points and shakes in Kommissar's face sloppily.
"If I win, you stop it with the names." Kommissar's flashes her teeth, almost a smile but not quite.
"Fine. But you won't win."
It's getting harder for Beca to see straight, the four empty shot glasses spinning in some kind of haphazard circle.
"I think you've had enough to drink, kleine maus." Kommissar says. A neat row of eight empty glasses sitting in front of her, her hair's not even slightly mussed.
"I thought you were gonna stop calling me that." Beca says, her words slurring together.
"You didn't win." Kommissar states dryly. A light and happy sound escapes from the brunette's lips, it's a giggle.
"Not fair." She mumbles. "I had two shots before this. And something else too. Dunno what..."
"That's still only six shots. You lost."
"Well you're inhumanly gorgeous, so... Yeah."
"Alberne maus." Kommissar says, though a smile softens her face.
"You know, I know some German. You can't keep calling me a bunny or a mouse or silly. I'll know it." Beca says, her finger bopping Kommissar on the nose.
Well, at least that's where she aims.
She ends up poking her in the cheek instead.
It's really soft.
"Then I'll be sure it switch it up. Now come, you need some sleep." Kommissar pulls Beca up from her chair and half leads, half drags her to the hotel they're both staying at.
"You don't even know where my room is." Beca says, trying to match Kommissar's long legged gait. She stumbles and almost falls, but she's saved by Kommissar's steady arm around her waist. Her hand is hot and gentle against Beca's hip.
"Then tell me your room number."
"Slow down there, buy a girl a drink first." Beca mumbles, giggling again.
"You've had too many already." Kommissar says, not understanding the flirtatious meaning.
"Never mind. I have a boyfriend, you know." Beca says, not knowing whether she's reminding Kommissar or herself.
And then she's safely in her room, Kommissar hovering at her door.
"Go to sleep, silly maus. Do not do anything foolish." She turns to leave, but Beca calls after her.
"Hey, you never said what you wanted if you won." She stops, turning back to the yawning Bella with a smirk.
"I'll tell you when you're sober." She says, winking mischievously.
"Ok. Sure. I'll do it then." Kommissar starts to walk away again, only to be called back.
"What's your real name? You can't really be named the commissioner."
"You'll have to beat me at something before I ever tell you. So, sadly, you will never learn it."
"I beat you at Worlds." Beca says,almost pouting, if she did that.
Which she doesn't.
Ever.
"Doesn't count."
"You Germans are so competitive." She grumbles. "It's such a huge thing to you."
"Competition isn't a thing, it's everything." And with that, she leaves.
Last night, Beca thought she'd embarrassed herself enough.
Causing a scene, getting drunk in front of the forever unfazed Kommissar, and rashly promising to do whatever Kommissar thought up.
But she was so wrong.
"No, I'm not doing this." She hisses through clenched teeth. A devilish laugh is Kommissar's response. Her head pounds, hangovers suck.
"I'm really not. There's no way." She says, her head shaking in denial. She winces, movement is really a bad idea.
"You have to. You promised."
"I'll do something else!" She pleads in desperation. She's met with the iron gaze of a stubborn German.
"Fine." She huffs.
She waves her hand, Kommissar's phone starts recording.
"Hey... So I lost a bet." She gulps.
"And my punishment for an understandably unfair game is..." She sighs, then addresses her film operator.
"Do I really have to do this?" She's met with silence. She sighs again.
"My punishment is to sing I'm A Little Teapot... In German."
Deep breath.
"Ich bin ein wenig Teekanne...short and stout."
A chuckle from behind the camera.
"I don't know it all, ok?" Beca says indignantly.
She tosses her hair over her shoulder, feeling the last shreds of her dignity dying with each verse.
"Hier ist meine Handgriff, hier ist meine Tülle..."
(A/N: I saw in an interview that Beca almost didn't sing the Cups song in the first movie, instead she was going to sing I'm A Little Teapot. So naturally, I used this information for a completely ridiculous fic.)