Like the World is Watching

by CJ-Jacobs

After a frustrating start in LA, Beca produces an album with her fellow Bellas - and though nobody expects much, a surprise celeb endorsement turns them into overnight pop stars. Meanwhile, Chloe and Beca have begun a friends-with-benefits arrangement and aren't prepared for how complicated it'll be or for how much industry pressure they'll face to keep it secret. Canon, post-PP2.

1. Chapter 1

To the person who knows who she is, thank you so much for everything-for helping me out with every last detail, and also for just generally being the most important chica in my life and the only one who keeps me from losing it entirely. This story is dedicated to you!

(Author's note appears as postscript below story)

---

Chapter 1

At Barden University's main campus theater, a crowd is assembling in the lobby. It's a well-dressed crowd, mostly middle aged, in their late forties and early fifties. They're giddy and shiny-eyed with nostalgia, some maybe just a little tipsy already. Occasional squeals arise from women spotting each other across the room and running to embrace long lost sorority sisters, and to covertly check to see who's gained the most weight. In one corner, a group of men with thinning hair and belly paunches are attempting to reconstruct the motions of a complicated fraternity handshake that no one quite agrees on, and one of them is getting agitated at the general idiocy. "There was never a fist bump, you assclowns!" he insists. Above their heads, over the grand staircase, hangs a green banner proclaiming in gold glitter paint the words WELCOME CLASS OF 1987!

Gradually some of the crowd is beginning to trickle into the auditorium, taking seats, although it's still early. Further up in the balcony area, overlooking the stage in the makeshift commentators' booth that they've set up themselves, John and Gail, dressed to the nines in evening wear, are busting a groove to Karmin's Acapella, which is apparently their new theme music. Their moves are not impressive, but they are enthusiastic. John's attempting what looks like a Cabbage Patch dance. Gail's hands are in the air, raising the roof-style.

They laugh at themselves in a good-natured way, then the music fades out as John turns the volume down, declaring jovially, "Love that little rapping white girl. Hello, folks! You're tuned in to Let's Talk-Apella, the world's most popular and currently only downloadable acapella podcast. My name is John Smith, and with me as always is the stunning Professor Gail Abernathy-McKadden-Feinberger. Professor," he repeats. "My goodness, fill us in, am I reading that right?"

"That's right, John," Gail beams. "You're looking at the newest instructor of vocal acrobatics for UCM, The University of Crimson Mound!"

"Hm." John makes a slightly disturbed face. "Interesting name. Now, is that an online university?"

"It is, it is," she nods. "And I can honestly say that the biggest perk of doing live-streaming lectures from the comfort of my own home is that I very rarely feel the need to wear a bra."

"Is that right?"

"Some days, not even pants," she admits.

"Hello!" he laughingly exclaims. "Where do I enroll?"

She gives him a playful swipe of her hand, continuing, "But it is of course a pleasure, as always, John, to be here with you in Atlanta tonight for a very special edition of Let's Talk-Apella."

"That's right, folks," John says, "we're here tonight to bring you a real blast from the past, the golden oldies of collegiate acapella, the 2015 world champion Barden Bellas, back for a one-night engagement here at good old Barden University's Alumni Week, where the class of 1987 is being honored with a special performance. Now, originally, I'm told, the current crop of Bellas was scheduled to perform, but it seems their entire house is quarantined with what's being described as..." he squints at a sheet of paper, "a ferociously contagious outbreak of scabies."

Gail's amused. "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

He chuckles in agreement. "Makes you wonder just what those girls have been up to, and who they've been up to it with. In any case, I'm told they will not be allowed out for another forty-eight hours, so it's the '15 team who'll be filling in." He turns to her. "Gail, it's been a little less than two years since this group snatched the world championship and redeemed their organization from national disgrace. Tell us, how do you think those years have treated the Bellas?"

"Well, John, color me chartreuse with envy, because from what I could see backstage these ladies look fantastic, they have not aged one bit."

He muses, "And that includes the ones who already looked unnaturally old for college students."

"Absolutely," she concurs.

He goes on, contemplative. "In this commentator's humble opinion, what I think our listeners will find especially moving is the nature of the Bellas' reunion here tonight. To drop everything and fly home for a last minute performance when their dear old alma mater needs them, well, what it says loud and clear is that these young women have nothing else going on in their empty, meaningless lives."

"Not a thing," Gail agrees pleasantly, shaking her head.

---

Backstage, in the dressing room, Beca leans close to the mirror and brushes on mascara. She's almost finished with her right eye, but then-

"Seriously?" she mutters at herself, as the wand slips just the slightest bit and leaves a black glob on the bridge of her nose. "Nice."

It's not like she hasn't done this thousands of times before. She stares around her own reflection in the mirror to glance back at the others, checking to see if anyone has caught her screwing up one of the most basic skills in the female arsenal. It doesn't seem so; they're all lost in their own worlds. And it's plain to see the nerves are kicking in for everyone. Beca can feel the jitteriness in the room like a storm front approaching. She wants to resist it, but it's contagious. It was always like this, but this is the first time they've ever performed with so little practice time and after such a long break, so it's even more intense than usual.

Sneaking a look around the room at everyone now, she can see that they're each doing their signature anxiety move. Fat Amy is using a crimping iron to make grilled cheese sandwiches for everyone, which she claims contain natural soothing properties. Stacie keeps loosening and then tightening her bra straps, trying to find the perfect tension, like a violin maestro tuning up her instrument. Over in a corner, Lilly is meditating, or praying, or communing with her dark overlord, or whatever she does when she closes her eyes and bows her head and becomes very still. Flo is pacing up and down the hallway outside the dressing room, alternately ranting and pleading and baby-talking into her phone in Spanish. It's like a one-woman telenovela out there. Jessica and Ashley are engaged in a very intense round of rock-paper-scissors, which apparently eases their nerves and is totally not weird at all, or so they insist. And Cynthia-Rose is compulsively cracking her knuckles, something the rest of them long ago gave up asking her to stop doing. Beca knows that when she's finished with her fingers she'll take off her shoes and do her toes, and she shudders a little and looks away before it gets to that point. Freaks. All of them.

Focusing on her own reflection again, she scrubs the mascara from her nose with a little more vehemence than required, then picks up the brush again to attempt to do her other eye. Her hand feels even less steady than it did a minute ago, this is ridiculous.

"Here, let me."

Beca turns away from the mirror, glancing to her side at the one person in the room who doesn't seem to be nervous. Chloe's removing her earpods with one hand and holding the other one out, waiting for the mascara.

"It's cool," Beca tells her, but not with a lot of confidence. "I got it."

Chloe just smiles and keeps her hand out, patient. She wiggles her fingers in a Come on, hand it over gesture.

Beca reconsiders, gives in, passes it to her. She spins her chair around so that they're face to face. She doesn't need to move in closer though, Chloe's already taking care of that. As usual.

"Just, don't overdo it," she cautions her.

"No, of course not," Chloe says, with exaggerated innocence. "We wouldn't want you to look like a harlot out there." At Beca's reaction, she tells her, "Keep your face still, don't smile."

"Then maybe don't say words like harlot," Beca says, but she makes an effort to compose her expression, pressing her lips together. She gazes down awkwardly and tries not to look at anything in particular as Chloe leans in close-way too close, of course, even for this job. She cups Beca's chin in her left hand as she applies the mascara with her right.

"You know, Beca," she tells her in a voice just above a whisper, "I have a really good feeling about tonight. There's no reason to be stressed out."

"I'm not stressed out."

Chloe ignores this obvious lie and goes on. "And I know we haven't had much practice time, but I think we're just gonna get out there, and everything'll come together, like old times. Once our feet hit that stage, we'll all just mesh."

"Mesh, huh?"

"Mm-hm. Like we never left." She leans back, finished with the mascara. "There." She surveys her work. "Not quite harlot, but maybe just a little bit tramp."

Beca glances at the mirror. "What more can a girl ask for?" She looks back at Chloe. "Thanks," she sighs, giving up on not appearing stressed out. "And I hope you're right. About the meshing." She sounds very doubtful.

"I'm always right." Chloe gives her an almost imperceptible wink before replacing her earpods and turning back to finish her own makeup. "Let me know if you need help doing your mouth."

Beca gives her a faint wry smile, but doesn't otherwise reply to this. She turns back to the mirror, trying and failing once again to ignore the others subtly freaking out behind her.

But ignoring them in the present isn't enough to get rid of them entirely. Now her mind goes back to yesterday morning, when they'd all first been reunited. It's been such a whirlwind two days of rehearsal that she hasn't even really had time to think about what they've all been up to in the six months since their last reunion, in the summer.

She and Chloe had arrived together early in the morning (much too early, in Beca's opinion) to open up the rehearsal room on campus. It was the first time they'd been in it since graduating, and to Chloe, this was apparently a Very Meaningful Moment. Beca, still not even fully awake yet, had winced at the sound of her echoing squeal as they came through the door.

Chloe had walked backwards and done a slow motion spin as she took in the entire room, which hadn't changed much since their days at Barden. Then she'd drawn in a deep breath, ending with a big sigh and a look of reverent nostalgia. "Beca. Do you smell that?"

Beca had set her bag on top of the piano and made a face as she sniffed, gazing around the empty space, which was pierced with shafts of early morning sunlight from the high windows. "You mean, like, that smell of old sweat and stale farts and that pink stuff the janitor uses on the floor?"

Chloe nodded with a slowly growing smile, her eyes wide for emphasis. "That's the smell of home."

Glancing around once more, Beca could manage only a skeptical, "Yeah." Then she leaned her elbows on the piano and rested her head in her hands, trying and failing to stifle a yawn. "Hey, how weird would it be if I just took a really quick nap on this thing?"

Ignoring this, Chloe moved off to start prepping the room, startling her with a sharp inspirational smack on the butt as she passed behind her. "Look alive, Bec! We've got work to do!"

Beca pressed her fingers to her temples as if she already had a headache. "You are so lucky you pay half the rent," she muttered. After a few seconds she looked up, noticing Chloe's current position. "Dude, are you hugging the whiteboard?"

Then, before Beca had even had a chance to emotionally prepare herself or ingest any caffeine, the others had begun to arrive. Fat Amy was the first to show up, with arms thrown wide and a shrill bleat of "Becaaaaaa!" Then she'd picked Beca up and spun her around, hanging onto her for way longer than she was comfortable with.

"Oh my God!" Beca laughed. "Okay, save some for everyone else," she was finally forced to beg, extricating herself from Amy's grip.

While Chloe was busy on the phone with the alumni event coordinator, Amy had been only too happy to describe what she'd been up to since they'd last seen each other in July. Beca already knew that she'd married Bumper in a drunk Vegas flash mob ceremony a year after graduation (and the fact that the Bellas had missed the chance to be bridesmaids and perform at her wedding was something for which Beca suspected Chloe would never completely forgive Amy.) Now, apparently, for the last few months, the honeymooners had been on something of a grand tour. According to Amy, coming in fourteenth on The Voice meant that Bumper was in high demand as an entertainer in certain less-fashionable countries.

"Just been hauling my sexy ass around some Third World hot spots with the old ball and chain," she explained. "Did a stint in North Korea last month."

"Really. North Korea," Beca had repeated with a dubious smile, enjoying herself and yet clearly not believing one word of this. "They let you in?"

"Wellllll," Amy drawled in a high-pitched tone, "Not so much let us in, as, weren't able to stop us. We crossed the border in a hot air balloon, above the line of sniper fire, Bumper's idea. He's full of brilliant schemes, that one."

Beca's only response was a guarded, "I see."

"Soooo, you know," Amy continued, casually. "Just spent some time hangin' out, kickin' it north of the DMZ. Skiing's nice there, top notch, you'd like it. Met Kim Jong-un. And all the little Jong-uns." In a confiding tone, she told Beca, "Say what you will about his politics, but the man can breakdance."

"Hmm. Would not have thought so," Beca had replied.

"Oh, yeaahh, you'd better believe it," Amy insisted, eyes widened. "In fact, he taught me this move, right here." At which she'd lowered herself to the floor and proceeded to do something utterly ridiculous and labored and painful-looking, which involved a lot of wobbly turns and some very, very slow spinning on her back. To Beca's mind it somewhat resembled what happens when a turtle gets stuck upside down in the middle of a road.

"Is that breakdancing?" Beca asked skeptically.

Amy had used Beca's hands to lever herself back to her feet with a flourish, wincing and panting with the effort. "Well, it's North Korean breakdancing," she clarified. "Which is a distinct sub-genre... of breakdancing."

"Oh, mmkay," Beca nodded. "That makes sense."

"I can show you another move, if you'd like?"

"You know, you should probably conserve some of that dancing energy, for rehearsal? It's gonna be a long two days."

"Urrh, yeah, about that," Amy said with a distinct lack of excitement. "Hear me out. We're performing for the Monistat and Viagra set, and those cheap menopausal hags aren't even handing out trophies. So I was thinking, hmm, what if we just stood there? And sang? Try something new, and... revolutionary?"

"Like, just standing there, on the stage," Beca repeated.

"That's the idea."

"Not moving. No choreo, at all."

"Exactly," Amy nodded, pointing at her, already edging toward the door. "Glad we're on the same page, then. So, I'll just let you work that out with Chloe, while I go for a smoothie run, yeah?"

"Yeah," Beca had scrunched up her nose and pretended to look regretful. "I don't think Chloe's gonna go for that. And you should probably change into some more comfortable shoes, so we can get started."

"Beca," Amy had stopped and sighed, looking defeated. "Don't take this the wrong way, but L.A. has turned you into a stone cold bitch." She paused. "And I can't lie. I kinda like it. It's a good look on you."

After Amy, everyone else had begun to arrive in a quick stream, with time for no more than brief recaps of what they'd been up to. Flo was next, greeting them with a joy that seemed slightly frantic and brittle around the edges, and missing some of her trademark deadpan irony. She hinted that she'd managed so far to avoid deportation after the expiration of her student visa by joining up with an "amazing organization" that seemed to require a lot of time spent writing fake news stories and making strategically unnecessary edits to Wikipedia pages. With a covert glance at the ceiling, she'd leaned in close and finally dropped her smile, whispering cryptically, "Do not judge me for anything I say or do in the next few months, it will all be worth it when my citizenship comes through. And then I will take my revenge." She'd straightened up and regained the smile, saying in a bright, overly loud voice, "Now let's get to work and make acapella great again, hey?" Beca and Amy were left to ponder this in confusion as she moved away.

Right after Flo came Jessica and Ashley, together as usual. After graduation, they'd remained in Georgia, and they explained that for the past few months they'd been earning money playing zombie extras on The Walking Dead. Beca had been both intrigued and disturbed by this information. "Wow. What's that like?"

Jessica explained, "Basically, we're just supposed to wander around in the background and not really say anything or make eye contact with anyone?"

They'd glanced at each other.

"So... you could say we've had a lot of experience," Ashley added dryly.

Beca had nodded, not sure what to say. She'd settled on, "Well, at least now you get paid for it, right?"

Next to arrive was Lilly, who somehow managed to appear behind everyone as if she'd been standing there the whole time, even though no one had seen her come in. They already knew that she'd moved to south Florida last year, and now she revealed that she was making ends meet through a variety of jobs. Or at least they thought that's what she said. It sounded like a whispered, "Just been growing medical marijuana and running some pyramid schemes." Off of their usual mixed reaction of confusion and incomprehension, she'd added, "I scare old people for free." Then she smiled.

At that point, they'd all experienced a collective jolt when they looked around and realized there was what appeared to be a Catholic nun standing in the doorway, in full, flowing black habit, including a headpiece with a veil. There were some gasps from the group and a low, mystified "What the hell?" from Amy. This nun was gorgeous and looked eerily familiar, but it wasn't until she spoke that they could identify her with certainty.

"Greetings, Bellas," she'd said, beaming at them as if bathed in holy light. "What a blessed day for a reunion."

Everyone had remained frozen, rooted to the spot in shock. Finally, Beca exclaimed, "Stacie?"

"Yes. It's me." She stepped demurely into the room and came to join them. "Thanks to the power of the Lord, I finally realized the error of my sinful, fornicating ways," she explained, still smiling in that creepy beatific manner.

Everyone looked at each other, but no one seemed to know how to react, and there was another stunned silence.

Then Stacie laughed and yanked the veil off her head. "No, I'm totally kidding. I'm shooting an adult film across town, it's based in a convent. I just didn't have time to change out of my wardrobe before I came over."

"Quick, everyone try to act more surprised than you really are," Amy mumbled.

"Oh!" Chloe exclaimed, now that she'd finally ended her phone wrangling and come to join the group. "So, you're... doing porn? What happened to your lab assistant job?"

"Yeah, they ran out of funding, but this was always kind of a dream of mine, so when the opportunity came up I just couldn't say no," she explains in a breezy and not terribly convincing way. "But don't worry, I've got my standards," Stacie had assured them. "It's the classy Cinemax kind, there's no actual penetration."

At this, Amy grimaced. "Still not a good enough reason to bring out the p-word."

Chloe had glanced at Beca, as if waiting for her to offer her input on Stacie's current career path, but nope, she wasn't touching this one. So Chloe continued in a supportive tone, "Well, I think it's great that you're doing what you love. Not all of us can say that."

"Thanks, Chloe," Stacie said as she gave her a quick hug. "Technically, though, I'm just playing the shy nun who watches all the action and touches herself," she told them, and it was plain to see she was a little bummed about it. "I don't even get to take my habit off. But, fingers crossed one of the main girls gets sick!"

Chloe hesitated, then gave her a bright, "Yeah!" while raising her hands to show her crossed fingers. But as Stacie turned away and headed off to change into her practice clothes, she'd looked at Beca and uncrossed her fingers, shaking her head and mouthing, "Nooo."

The last of the group to arrive was Cynthia-Rose, who'd announced her presence with a cackle as she tossed her bag on the floor. "Tell meyou bitches did not start this shit without me!" Stacie, by that point mercifully looking like herself again, had squealed and run to her for a hug.

They already knew that Cynthia-Rose's engagement hadn't worked out; it had fizzled shortly after Worlds, in fact. Like most of them, she wasn't in a serious relationship at the moment, and aside from a summer as a counselor at an arts camp near her hometown in Tennessee, she'd been spending much of her time lately pounding the pavement in both Atlanta and New York, shopping around her demo and hoping for a recording contract.

"Just keep gettin' the same damn thing over and over. They love my voice, they love my flow, then I come in for a meeting, and after that I never hear back. One of those suits told me I don't have 'the right look.'" She put air quotes around these words. "The hell you think that's supposed to mean?"

The rest of the Bellas had shifted uncomfortably and avoided direct eye contact. Only Amy nodded knowingly. "Yeah, used to get that a lot in my modeling career. In my experience, it's sometimes hard for them to process too much sexy at once."

Stacie had a suggestion. "Ooh, you should get hair extensions, it'd be super cute."

Cynthia-Rose turned her full attention on her, with a sly look. "Ya think?"

Beca had realized that out of all of them, Cynthia-Rose appears to be the only one aside from herself who's seriously attempting to pursue a career in the music business. She'd wanted to talk to her about this in much more detail, but there hadn't yet been time due to the frantic pace of the rehearsals, which had lasted all day yesterday and most of today.

Now, in the dressing room, Beca glances back at her again through the mirror and realizes - oh, yep, the shoes are off. The toes are out. She cringes as she hears a series of tiny muffled pops, trying not to shiver. Checking the clock, she realizes there's still nearly twenty minutes left until they're supposed to go on stage. She has no idea how the hell they're going to make it that long when they're already this tense.

She's startled out of her thoughts when Amy suddenly looms up next to her and slaps a grilled cheese sandwich onto the vanity counter. "Here we are, then." She bends closer to mumble, "Added extra cheese for you, don't tell the others."

Beca glances at the sandwich, making a face. "I don't want that."

"Beca." Amy stares at her, not playing around. "You have to eat it, or it's bad luck."

"What? That is not even a thing. You just made that up."

"Maybe I did," Amy admits with an offended shrug. "Orrr, maybe, you are not an expert on all the things. So, the question is, do you want to be the one to put a grilled cheese curse on the entire group? That is a big load to carry on such tiny shoulders."

Beca has no patience for arguing about something so stupid, and now she's also feeling just a little superstitious, because what it if is bad luck? So she sighs, grabs the sandwich. "One bite," she says, chewing off the smallest corner she can manage. Her face contorts in disgust. "This tastes like burned hair!"

Amy reaches out and pats her lightly on the cheek. "You are welcome," she enunciates. "Got one comin' up on the barbie for ya, Chloe!" she announces as she returns to her temporary kitchen. Chloe still has her earpods in and has missed the entire exchange, but she hears her name and looks confused.

As soon as Amy's gone, Beca pulls the small trash bin from under the counter and spits the bite out, dropping the rest of the sandwich in after it. Then she leans her elbows on the surface in front of her and rests her head in her hands, digging her fingers into her hair and letting the ends of it hang down to curtain her face. She takes a few deep breaths and tries to ignore everyone behind her, tries to ignore how extremely annoying they seem at the moment, tries to avoid snapping at someone just to alleviate her tension. Or maybe she's just trying to avoid freaking out. Because she's not sure what they really think they're doing here tonight.

The fact is, they're out of shape, they're out of practice vocally, and most of them no longer have any day to day interaction with each other. They're not the Bellas anymore. This whole thing is a huge gamble, and maybe they're crazy for trying to pull it off. But Chloe hadn't hesitated when she'd been asked if they could do it. There hadn't even been a discussion, she'd just said yes, and then contacted everyone to let them know it was happening. (Beca doesn't know whether it says more about Chloe's persuasiveness, or about the current sad status of most of their lives and careers that everyone had so readily agreed.) That was only a week ago, and even though they've all spent that week doing vocal warm-ups on their own, and even though Chloe sent them the choreography basics to learn before rehearsal, and even though the two days of practice seemed to go fairly well, all things considered... is any of it enough? Or are they going to get out there and destroy the reputation they worked for years to create with one humiliating disaster of a performance?

Get it together, Mitchell, she lectures herself. She's supposed to be the leader here, she's supposed to inspire confidence. If she loses her shit, they'll all lose their shit. She's got to snap out of it and at least pretend she isn't worried.

She's distracted from these dire thoughts by the sound of humming; actually, she realizes, the humming has been going on for a few minutes, it's just that it's gradually getting louder. Reluctantly Beca rotates her head in her hands and glances to the left, confirming her suspicion that it's coming from Chloe. She's still doing her makeup, earpods hooked to the phone resting next to her on the counter, and now she's actually moving a bit to the beat, nodding along in that adorably dorky way that Cynthia-Rose refers to as her "whitegirl bopping." She looks up and catches Beca's eye in the mirror, increasing her volume even more. The part of Beca's brain devoted to music automatically sifts through mental files to pinpoint the melody; Taylor Swift's 22.

Now Chloe raises an eyebrow at her, as if to invite her to join in. Beca smiles a little, but shakes her head in a way that clearly conveys Nope, not happening. Chloe's expression seems to reply Hmm, we'll see about that. They're getting pretty good at having entire conversations without words.

But apparently Beca isn't the only one to recognize this particular tune, because now someone else starts humming along. She glances behind her, not very surprised to see that it's Stacie. Chloe seems overjoyed to have an accomplice, and, as if on a prearranged cue, they both switch from humming to singing at the chorus.

And then, predictably, it's only a matter of time before everyone else realizes what's going on and joins in. They don't just join in, of course; being who they are, they turn it into a full-fledged acapella arrangement of the song, complete with faux-instrumentals and Lilly easily picking up the beat. Beca goes back to applying her makeup, determined to ignore them. They really don't have time for this.

But try as she might, she can't stop watching them through the mirror, and she has to make an effort not to laugh. They're just singing casually, but they're all getting way too into it, Taylor Swift would be proud. Or possibly mortified. Chloe is outright dancing in her seat, pouring her heart into the lyrics as if she's actually twenty-two herself, and not twenty-seven. At some point Stacie can't contain herself anymore, she's up out of her chair. Circling around the room, she pulls Chloe up to join her. Other than Beca, the rest of them likewise soon abandon their hair and makeup preparations and treat like this like it's an actual performance. Even Amy's given up on her chef aspirations for the moment, and is using her crimping iron as a fake microphone. The whole thing is made even more ridiculous by the fact that they're all wearing some kind of late eighties flair; a miniskirt or headband here, some leg warmers and a side pony there-Chloe's idea, to honor the alumni class they're performing for. (Beca had managed to escape with just a denim vest and a sequined belt, and she's hoping she may yet find a way to ditch the belt before they go on stage.)

While everyone but her continues singing, Beca deliberately concentrates on her lip liner, avoiding making eye contact with Chloe, because she knows there's soon going to be an active campaign to get her to join in. They do not have time for this. But it's hard not to peek. She glances up through the mirror to find that now Stacie is actually standing and dancing in a chair, a maneuver she manages with remarkable grace, considering the chair is the rotating kind. Cynthia-Rose hovers below her, as if prepared to break her fall if necessary, possibly hoping it will be necessary. Beca wonders if the nerves are making them all a little nutty. Even Jessica's busting out some awkward moves (it's not clear whether they're unintentionally awkward, or a deliberate Taylor homage), and she at least can usually be counted on for sanity at times like this.

It feels like one of those nights / To ditch the whole scene / It feels like one of those nights / We won't be sleeping

Finally the moment comes, as Beca knew it would. Chloe zeroes in on her, dancing in her direction, approaching behind her chair as Beca tries and fails to ignore her in the mirror. But it's impossible to ignore the fact that her chair is now being gripped and spun around in one quick yank-"Oh my God!" she protests. Chloe only grins and keeps singing at her, now leaning forward with her hands balanced on the armrests of the chair, leaving Beca nowhere to escape. She's timed it perfectly so that the words she's singing with not even an attempt at subtlety are the lead-up to the chorus.

You look like bad news / I gotta have you / I gotta have you

Not for the first time, they all pause at the chorus to wait for Beca to give in and submit to their harassment. Because that's what this is. It is musical harassment.

And she's powerless to resist it, of course. Even as she rolls her eyes, she's smiling. Briefly she considers pretending she doesn't know the words, but nobody would buy it. They know her too well by now. They know how weak her defenses are when it comes to even the cheesiest of bubblegum pop. So she sighs and gives them what they want, joining in at the chorus.

I don't know about you / But I'm feeling twenty-two / Everything will be all right / If you keep me next to you

Though still seated, she even consents to throw in some dance moves, and adds in a little fake attitude on the line You don't know about me, much to Chloe's delight.

And now that they're finally all in sync, as a group, it happens. Beca feels that familiar subtle shift take place in the room, an almost physical sensation, like the satisfying click of a headphone jack sliding into place. It's a feeling she remembers viscerally from their performing days, that moment when, as Chloe had predicted earlier, they mesh. And how fitting that it's happening now, not during grueling rehearsals or even on stage in front of an audience, but while they're just screwing around and singing for no one but themselves, acting like the massive dorks they will apparently always be. Beca feels the greater part of her anxiety over the coming performance lift and dissolve, and she sends out a silent thank you to Taylor Swift for helping them get their groove back.

Suddenly, as if the song itself has summoned her into being, the door is flung open and Emily is there in their midst,wearing a fuzzy purple bathrobe with matching slippers and looking incongruously as if she just climbed out of bed. She seems not at all startled by the fact that she's walked into the middle of a group sing, taking the situation in stride and immediately joining in for the last few bars.

As the song finally winds down and ends, they all cheer for Emily's entrance, and Amy hollers, "What up, Legacy?"

"Hey guys!" Emily says brightly, but then immediately follows it by holding a hand up to ward them off, saying, "Nobody try to hug me! I am literally crawling with millions of tiny parasites. I saw them, under a microscope. They are... horrifying." She's still smiling as she says this, it's only her eyes that reveal a comic distress. "I'm actually supposed to be quarantined right now, so, I had to sneak out, but I just couldn't stand knowing you guys were here without coming to say hi."

"Yeah, how exactly did the whole scabies thing happen?" Chloe asks her. "Nobody gave us any details."

"Oh, it's actually a really cute story," Emily tells them. "See, we decided that we should get a puppy for the Bella house, kind of like a mascot? But the thing is, we were all broke, and even the shelter wanted an adoption fee. So, um, we basically just went and found one living in an alley and brought it home." She slides her phone out of her bathrobe pocket, then scrolls until she finds a picture. "Yeah, see?" She holds it out to show them a close-up shot of a tiny scruffy-looking mutt, earning a chorus of awwws. "Her name is Harmony," Emily goes on proudly. "She's so, so sweet, she gives the most adorable little puppy kisses. Unfortunately, she also gave us all the mange." Her face falls a bit.

The assembled Bellas try and fail to not look grossed-out.

"But, it's okay!" Emily insists, back to smiling. "We're all gonna be fine in a few days, we just have to keep applying the ointment, and also, under no circumstances, touch anyone."

No one seems quite sure how to respond to this, so Chloe steps in after a brief pause. "Well, we're glad you came to see us anyway," she says, sounding as if she genuinely means it. "And we would definitely hug you if we could." She takes a subtle step backwards. "But, yeah, please don't touch us."

Everyone tries, without making it too obvious, to move just a little bit further away from Emily. They go back to what they were doing before the impromptu musical number, finishing up last minute hair and makeup, consulting each other on wardrobe details, everyone now looking a lot more relaxed and performance-ready. Emily moves across the room with a specific destination in mind. As she passes by Amy, who's mercifully putting away her grilled cheese materials, Amy raises her fingers and makes the sign of the cross to ward her off.

Pulling out a chair next to Beca at the vanity counter, Emily turns it to face her and then very carefully sits on it, making sure to keep her skin from touching any surfaces. "Hey, Beca!" she greets her, in an enamored-yet-trying-to-be-casual voice.

Beca caps her lip liner and turns to smile at her, offering a jaunty, "Hey girlfriend, what's up? Oh, no," she winces, immediately appalled at herself. "I can not pull off girlfriend, can I? Thought I could, but... nope."

"Mmm, been there," Emily nods knowingly. "And anyway, I should be asking you what's up, Miss Hollywood."

"Oh." Beca scoffs a little. "Hardly. The area where I live is called El Segundo, my apartment is literally between the airport and a sewage treatment facility. And the old Italian lady who lives in the other half of my duplex is probably insane, and will most likely kill me one day." She adds, "But the beach is only like five minutes away, so there's that, if you're a fan of... sunshine." Her expression indicates she is not, in fact, a fan. "Or if you live with someone who likes to drag you there every chance she gets."

"That's right!" Emily exclaims. "I almost forgot, you and Chloe are, like, roomies now."

"Yep," Beca confirms. "She pretty much just showed up out of the blue and invaded my place, last summer. Before that, it was..." she pauses to consider. "Sorta lonely out there." Feeling how much of a massive understatement these words are, Beca lets her gaze drift over to where Chloe is micromanaging the removal of Flo's hair curlers, giving out advice and instructions and support like the unofficial team mother she'll always be at heart. Flo says something that makes her face light up in a brilliant smile. Watching her, Beca feels her own lips curl upward just slightly, against her will.

"God, that must be so much fun," Emily says. "I bet you guys have gotten really close, huh?"

Beca turns back to her, now with a startled deer-in-the-headlights look. "Yeah! Or, actually, no," she stammers, shaking her head. "Not really. Just, like, you know, the same amount as... before? Because we already were. Close. So not any more close, per se. Just-nothing different. Nothing... weird, or anything, so," she trails off, hearing the echo of all the unnecessary words she just said.

Emily looks a little confused.

"Um, what about you?" Beca grasps at a new subject. "Scabies aside, how are things in the Bella house?"

She seems thrilled to be asked. "Good! Like, really good. We've got a full house this year, twelve members. Remember that freshman I texted you about, Raveena Patel? She's like Beca 2.0, she's getting so good at doing the mixes and arrangements, I know she'll be in charge one day." Emily nods, seeming a bit wistful as she contemplates her own graduation. "Yeah, and this semester we even have a new transgender girl, Tori. She can hit the bass notes, and she can sing falsetto. She has a six octave vocal range, it's insane."

"Really?" Beca says. "Damn. That's gonna help you out a lot." She hopes she sounds impressed instead of jealous.

"I know. Plus, she looks better than me in a skirt. So, double bonus."

"God, it's weird, I can't believe I haven't even met some of those new girls yet," Beca reflects. She's not usually the nostalgic type, but she can't help admitting, "It's kinda sad, actually."

"Well, they're dying to meet you. They would kill me if they knew I was here without them. You guys are such legends to the new group, that house is like a shrine to you. We've still got pictures and keepsakes and stuff everywhere... oh, and Chloe left this bra behind? It's like that magical pair of pants that fits everyone, the girls refuse to wash it. Yeah, they take turns wearing it on days when they need a little extra dose of confidence. They call it ginger juju."

Beca's a little taken aback. "Yikes," she mutters, but nicely. "That's... flattering, I guess? Little creepy." She gestures around the room at the other Bellas. "We're definitely not that important. It's just us nerds. You know?"

"But that's only in the real world," Emily says, dismissing that whole world with a wave of her hand. "In the Bella house, you guys'll always be superstars."

Beca smiles a little, deciding to just accept the compliment.

There's a lull now, and Emily looks distracted. She frowns just a bit, staring at her fingernails, and it's obvious she's going to change the subject. "Hey, listen, um, maybe I shouldn't even bring it up. But I would feel bad... if I didn't." She's not doing a good job finding the right words. "If I didn't at least say that I'm sorry?"

It's now Beca's turn to look confused. "Sorry about what?"

Emily lowers her voice a little. "About, you know, you and Jesse? It really sucks."

"Oh." Beca's face registers genuine surprise, definitely not the good kind. "Wow. You heard about that already. That just happened, like, a few weeks ago." Now her tone takes on a hint of sardonic bitterness. "What, was there like a blog post about it? Didn't realize we were the Jay Z and Beyoncé of college acapella."

Clearly regretting it, Emily wrinkles her nose. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, no, it's fine," Beca hastens to assure her, trying to banish the bitchiness. "Don't worry about it."

"I was just surprised, is all. I guess I thought you guys were really solid. And if you can't make it, then..." She seems to want to reclaim these words before they're even out of her mouth. "I should just stop talking."

"It's fine, really," Beca insists. "It was just, the whole long distance thing, you know? He's got that amazing grad school scholarship in New York, and I'm three thousand miles away. We saw each other for like two days every few months. We actually thought we were gonna be the exception. The one couple who could make that whole thing work. But... turns out?" she pauses, smiling a little sadly. "We're not. So." She shrugs.

"Yeah," Emily murmurs, in a commiserating way. "Still sucks."

They're silent for a few seconds, and the mood is heavy with gloom. Beca makes an attempt to get it back on a lighter footing. "It's cool," she insists. "It's not, like, some big tragedy. I mean, really, what were the chances that the guy I met first day of freshman year was the guy I was gonna spend the rest of my life with, right?"

Emily attempts to nod but her face falls a little at this, she glances down at her lap awkwardly.

"Oh!" Beca says, realizing her mistake too late. "But not... not you. You definitely will. I mean, because, you and Benji, you guys are like- " she stops, another thought occurring to her. "And that's how you knew. Of course. Because Jesse and Benji, those two... yeah." She closes her eyes for a second, wishing it was possible to kick herself in the face.

Emily confirms her guess. "They tell each other everything. They're kinda like girls that way." She still seems a bit crestfallen. "Um, I don't think anybody else knows, if you're worried about-"

"Oh, no," Beca interrupts her, feeling like a huge idiot. "It's not even... I mean, I was just being-" She stops again, and is still trying to think of a way to extricate herself from the floundering wrong turn this conversation has taken when she hears her name.

"Beca!" Chloe's gesturing to her from the doorway. "I need you for a minute. Captain duties."

"Okay!" She gives Emily an apologetic look. "Do you mind?"

"No, of course," she says, swinging her knees aside to let Beca pass. "I know you guys are, like, super busy right now."

As Beca stands and passes her she starts to squeeze her shoulder, but remembers not to touch her just in time and sheepishly pulls her hand back. Before she ducks out the door she pauses to tell her, "Hey, um, if you can, stick around after the show, I have an announcement that I think you'll want to hear."

"Definitely!" Emily agrees, flattered but still seeming befuddled after all the awkwardness. "I'll just hang out in here until you're done."

"Oh my God, thank you," Beca gasps in relief as she follows Chloe into the hall. "I don't know what it is about talking to her, but I always feel I like I just told a Brownie troop there's no Santa Claus." She looks at Chloe as she's led further down the corridor, wondering where they're going. "What'd you need?"

Chloe only gives her a mischievous glance that seems to say Wait. Another few paces, and she finally opens a door on the right and disappears into a dark room, then turns and beckons Beca in after her.

Beca follows, closing the door behind her, but then stops in her tracks, confused, as Chloe pulls a string dangling from a lightbulb to reveal their surroundings. She looks around at what appears to be a utility closet, not the stage area or green room she was expecting. There's a massive heating and air conditioning unit in the back of it, as well as an industrial-size sink, and stacked along the sides are maintenance implements like brooms and trash barrels.

"Okaaay. What is this? Smells like mop water in here."

Chloe's facing her, hugging herself a little, smiling but also looking nervous, like she's guilty of something. "Just, try not to be mad."

"What? Why would I be ma-"

The word is cut off before she can finish it, with a kiss. Chloe pushes into her with a kind of desperate haste, nearly lifting her off her feet, causing her to stumble backwards against the door behind her.

Beca pulls in a sharp breath through her nose as she angles her head to meet her in the right position, caught up in the unexpected passion of the impact and instinctively just going with it. She brings her hands up to Chloe's face, at first for balance, but then keeps them there after her balance is restored. After a few seconds of this heated, somewhat frenzied making out, her eyelids flutter as she forces herself back to her senses with a massive act of willpower. Still kissing back, she nevertheless pulls focus enough to run her hands down the trajectory from Chloe's face to her neck to her shoulders, which she grips, and then (after another brief hesitation and an obvious battle with herself) shoves back away from her with firm intent, breaking their lips apart.

Shocked and a little out of breath, Beca stares at her, eyebrows raised. "What the hell are you doing?"

Chloe steps back just the slightest bit, smiling, again with that impish gleam in her eyes, and says in a conspiratorial way, "Okay, confession time. So, back in our Bellas glory days? Always before each competition or performance, I would make sure to find a little private space like this... like, a closet, or an empty sound booth, or something? Aaaand the reason I did that was so that I could have a little, you know," she tilts her head and delivers a quick wink. "Me time."

It takes a few seconds for the meaning of the words to fully register on Beca, and when they do, her eyebrows shoot up even higher. "What?" she laughs, still a little out of breath. "Are you serious?" A thought seems to dawn on her. "Oh my God, is that why you were always so late getting to the stage?"

Chloe shrugs a little, unembarrassed. "Sometimes I had to touch up my hair and makeup afterwards." Beca's still looking at her like she's crazy, so she adds, "Don't judge, it was a great way to relieve those pre-show jitters. Really composes the mind. I mean, it's better than puking all over everyone, right?"

Beca's struggling to find words. "I just..." she tries. "Congrats. Every time I think you can't get any more weird? You prove me wrong."

She starts to turn as if she's going to leave, but Chloe grabs her wrist to still her. "Wait! What I was gonna say was that, it was fine, you know, the way it was. Solo. It got the job done. But I always thought it would be so much more fun..." she pauses, lowering her voice into a flirtatious register. "To make it a duet."

Not sure how to reply, there's a hint of uncertainty mixed in with Beca's amusement. "Like, with me? Or just, with anyone?"

Chloe's answer to this is to bite her bottom lip coyly and then to step forward, coming in fast for a second kiss while Beca's still distracted and trying to process what she just heard. This one starts out less forcefully, building from a slow burn, but building fast. Instead of pushing her into the door, Chloe grasps her around the waist and tugs her forward, against her own body, making a kind of low, satisfied humming sound that might count as a giggle if it wasn't so laced with desire.

Beca lets this one go on longer than the first kiss, again bringing her hands up to Chloe's face to push her away, but seeming to forget what she was planning once they're there, because there's now tongue involved and it's very distracting. And then, somehow, her hands are buried in Chloe's hair, which is also most certainly not the direction they were supposed to be going. It's just that she's having a hard time remembering where they were supposed to be going. The scent of Chloe's perfume is intoxicating and everywhere, and there's definitely not enough oxygen in this tiny room.

Finally, Beca forces her eyes open and breaks the kiss with a sharp, audible gasp, equally annoyed at Chloe and at herself. "Dude, no!" she whisper-yells as she steps back and crosses her arms to restrain her traitorous hands. "Not here! What if someone finds out?"

"I don't care about that," Chloe says casually. It seems the idea hasn't even occurred to her before.

"Well, I do," Beca says. "Like, a lot. They can not know about this."

"Oh." Chloe seems a bit taken aback. "Okay. If that's what you want."

"It's just, they would completely get the wrong idea, they would think it's for real."

A tiny flicker of something that might be hurt passes over Chloe's features, but she masks it with incomprehension.

Not noticing, Beca continues, "Besides, this," she indicates the closet, "is not, like-" She's flustered, babbling. "I mean, we don't do this." Seeing Chloe's confusion, she elaborates. "This whole thing we've been doing lately... that we don't talk about." She looks miserable, briefly covering her eyes with her forearm, murmuring, "That I can't believe I'm talking about right now, ohmygod..." She forces herself to look at Chloe again. "It's not this, you know what I mean?" She tries again, with a blunt, "There are rules!"

Now Chloe seems to be catching on. "Oh, right. The rules," she nods. "Yeah, even though we've never actually discussed them, from what I can gather the rules are..." She counts them off on her fingers. "Only in the dark. Only in bed, preferably yours because it's bigger. And only if one of us just climbs in like we didn't know the other one was there, and then in the daylight we pretend it never happened."

Beca slowly nods, as if waiting for her to hear what she just said. "Exactly. So..." she gestures a second time at the closet, at the whole situation they're in right now. "This is pretty much breaking all three of them."

Chloe twists her mouth as she looks around thoughtfully, then reaches up and gives a quick tug to the light bulb's cord, plunging them into darkness. "Just two now," she whispers, pleased with herself.

"Chloe?" Beca says in a calm, deliberate tone, like she's talking to a crazy person. "I am leaving."

"Okay, you're right, you're right," Chloe stops her again, a conciliatory note in her voice now. "I'm sorry, Beca. I know I'm breaking the rules. I was afraid this might be out of your comfort zone, and I did it anyway." She pauses. "It's just, you seemed pretty stressed out about the performance, and then even more when you were talking to Emily. And I know how you get when you put your foot so far in your mouth that it almost comes out your butt. It's actually kinda cute to watch, but it makes you all tense and fidgety." She brings her hands up to lightly circle Beca's bare arms just above the elbows, her thumbs stroking in a tentative, soothing way. Her voice drops into an even softer register. "So I was just thinking, maybe you could use some... tension relief, before we go on stage. That's all."

Beca can't help smiling at this justification, even though it's too dark for Chloe to see it. "So, you really brought me in here for my benefit."

She feels rather than sees Chloe lean closer to her face, where she says in an emphatic whisper, "That's how good of a friend I am."

Beca can't resist a quiet huff of laughter at this. "Yeah. Apparently." She's trying her best to ignore Chloe's thumbs, which are still stroking her arms and maybe inching upwards just the tiniest bit. If it wasn't so dark in here she would have stopped it already. "But I don't think you're gonna have time to prove your friendship right now. Have you forgotten we're going on in, like, ten minutes?"

"I can work with ten minutes." There's a sly, vixen-ish tone to her voice. "Maybe not my best work, but the CliffsNotes version, for sure." By this point her hands have migrated up even further, her thumbs oh-so-innocently skating over the sides of Beca's breasts as she squeezes her upper arms, remarking in a concerned way, "Beca, your shoulders feel really tight. You know, it's dangerous to dance like that, you could pull a muscle. As the choreographer, I don't know if I can let you go out there if you're not properly warmed up."

"Pretty sure that's like the third reason you've given for why we're in here," Beca whispers.

"Is it? Hmm. Well, if you're keeping track, here's a fourth one." As she says this she slides her palms back down Beca's arms and grips her hands, then brings them up to lightly skim Beca's knuckles over her own chest. "Feel that?" she asks. "I could cut glass with those right now. And this is a padded bra!"

"Dude, oh my God!" Beca laughs, yanking her hands back as if she's been burned. "Seriously?" She tries to compose herself and inject some authority into her voice, lecturing Chloe, "We need to get back out there! We're still technically the captains of this group, we have to make sure everything's squared away. You're the one who roped us into this whole thing!"

Chloe seems to be considering this, then after a few seconds she sighs, apparently a sigh of relinquishment. "Fine. You're right, it was a crazy idea, anyway. It's just that I always wanted to do this, so I had to try. But, no, we should go."

"Yeah," Beca agrees, although she's maybe just a little surprised (a little disappointed?) at how easily she's given in. "Like, now." She reaches out backwards, groping to find the door behind her and to get her bearings in the almost total darkness.

But before her hand can even locate the doorknob, she feels warm breath on the side of her neck. And then Chloe's leaning into her and dropping light, feathery kisses along the curve where her neck meets her shoulder. Where Beca's hair is in the way, instead of brushing it back with her hand, she blows gently, raising chills, then immediately follows the cool air with the returning warmth of her lips.

Beca starts to protest, actually opens her mouth to speak, but then finds that no words are waiting to come to her rescue. And there's no use trying to pull away, because the door's already at her back and there's nowhere to go. Or at least that provides a convenient pretext for not making the attempt.

After a few seconds she manages to utter only a quiet and not particularly forceful, "Chloe. Really?"

Chloe pulls back a few inches with an innocent, "What?" She pauses, then adds with a slight air of censure, "Beca, we need to go. What are you waiting for?"

"I'm not the one- "

Before she can get any further than this, Chloe's back at her neck again, this time starting at the hollow of her throat, sucking softly at her pulse point. Beca tries to finish the sentence, but the words are choked off by an embarrassing convulsive swallow. Her head drops back and knocks against the door. She's squeezing her eyes shut, even though she can't see anything anyway. Damn it. Now her heart rate is starting to pick up speed, which considering the current location of her lips must be very obvious to Chloe, because Beca can practically feel her smile against her skin.

Suddenly she remembers that she's supposed to be locating the doorknob. She gropes around blindly with her right hand until she lands on it, resting her palm on top of the smooth, cool surface. But she can't quite seem to turn it, because now Chloe is working her way with unhurried leisure up her throat and then along her jawline, lingering at a spot just under Beca's left ear. Her mouth is soft and warm and ridiculously skilled, the tip of her tongue darting out with searing precision.

"You're insane," Beca attempts to whisper this sternly, but it comes out as more of a pant. "You know that, right?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Chloe mumbles against her skin. "But we really shouldn't waste any more time, they're gonna start wondering where we are."

Then she's moving up a little further, to her earlobe. Which wouldn't be a huge deal, except that for Beca, her ears might as well be sex organs, they're so sensitive and responsive to touch, a fact that Chloe took note of very early on in their... arrangement. Now her teeth are nipping and grazing along the ear's edge, alternating in dizzying succession with tender, delicate kisses, keeping Beca off balance so that just when she gets used to one mode, Chloe switches back to the other. And Chloe's breathing is also now starting to pick up speed and become a little uneven, a development Beca can't miss since it's puffing hotly right against her ear.

Now, to her slight horror, Beca realizes that the thing is happening, the thing she still hasn't quite gotten used to and maybe never will, where it's like a switch has been flipped and she's instantly flushed with fire and overwhelming need. For these past few weeks this is the thing that's been making her feel like she doesn't know her own body at all and possibly never has. Because it sure as hell has never done this before. She would have noticed.

But it can not be happening here. They need to get out of this dark closet, like, immediately. Making a monumental effort, she grips the doorknob tight and finally manages to turn it. But the door swings inward, so the only way to pull it open is to step away from it, which means moving forward against Chloe. And the problem with that plan is that Chloe's knee and upper thigh are positioned strategically just in front of her, very nearly between her legs already - but in the lightest and most innocent way, of course, just hovering there as if by sheer coincidence. To press forward even a few inches is actually what Beca's trying with all her might to convince her hips not to do right now, because she's pretty sure that if they do, the door will no longer be a top priority.

Oh God what is happening to me, Beca thinks as she exhales raggedly. She's appalled at herself. She is not the kind of girl who does stuff like this. She used to want people to think she was the kind of girl who did stuff like this, but she never was and assumed she never would be-let alone with her best friend, who has a reputation as being most definitely the kind of girl who does stuff like this.

Suddenly, as if Chloe's reading her thoughts, an especially keen nip to the edge of her ear triggers a sharp gasp, and her hips surge forward involuntarily. Shit. But Chloe, as if anticipating this reaction, has drawn her leg slightly further back so that she's still just out of reach. Beca clenches her jaw in frustration, but she refuses to press closer in search of more contact, because that would be letting her win.

Now she's distracted by an apparent shift in Chloe's focus. To Beca's relief, it seems she's finally decided to leave the ear in peace, hopefully with time to recover and not appear tomato red and dented with teeth marks when they go on stage. She's now slowly meandering back the way she came, retracing her path down Beca's jaw line to her neck, kissing with maybe just a little more fervor and heat this time. She's also making these soft, throaty, apparently unconscious whimpering sounds that wouldn't even be audible if she wasn't so close. But they are audible. They are most definitely audible. Because it now occurs to Beca with a growing sense of dismay that she should have brought an extra pair of underwear. She makes a mental note to never go anywhere with Chloe again without taking a spare. These are the kinds of thoughts that make her realize just how strange their friendship has become.

With renewed resolve, she squeezes the doorknob even tighter, losing some traction since her palm is now slick with sweat. And where the hell are Chloe's hands, anyway? Judging by the angle she's leaning into her, she must be propping herself up against the door, which means her palms are probably planted right on either side of Beca's head. This is only a problem because Beca now realizes she wants those hands on her, and suspects that Chloe is keeping them from her on purpose. It's almost as if she's playing a game with herself, to see if she can break through Beca's willpower through the unrivalled skill of her mouth alone. But of course that's all irrelevant and it doesn't matter what twisted scheme she's up to, because they're not staying in here, Beca reminds herself. She takes a deep breath and this time manages to pull the door open just far enough to cause the latch to click, which feels like major progress.

Chloe hears the click and raises her head from Beca's throat, pulling back just a few inches. "Beca, what has gotten into you?" she asks, all innocent righteousness, as if she's the one being mauled. "This is getting ridiculous, we have responsibilities. Open the door."

The door in question is already cracked open, but no more than a sliver, just enough to allow the faintest trace of illumination, so that Beca can not only feel the heat from Chloe's skin, she can just barely discern the outline of her features. But before she can even contemplate a response to this latest bit of nonsense, Chloe's dipping forward and coming in close toward her face as if she's going for a real kiss this time. Beca instinctively and shamelessly tilts her head up toward her, the progress with the door already forgotten.

But instead of the expected kiss Chloe only lingers and brushes her lips against Beca's in the softest and most delicate manner possible, ghosting over them, teasing her. Then she draws back into the darkness, just a fraction of an inch at a time, staying tantalizingly out of reach as Beca's pulled along in her wake like a magnet, straining forward, her mouth chasing Chloe's without finding it. A slow smile forms on Beca's lips, into the gap of charged space between them, a smile in reaction to the sheer brazenness of this whole thing, the audacity of such a blatant seduction attempt, and here, of all places. You have to give her credit for going for it. This chick is more than a little loco, nobody could deny that. But at the current moment, she's also maddeningly irresistible.

By this point Chloe has retreated back far enough so that Beca would have to step forward to meet her, and that's where she stops, as if waiting. In the sweetest and most guileless voice, she now chirps, "Ready to go?"

To anyone who didn't know her well, this would seem to be a straightforward question about heading to the stage. To Beca, however, it's actually possible to feel her self-satisfaction and amusement radiating into the darkness.

It's obvious that there's a decision to be made here, and that Beca is the one who has to make it. There's no question which is the right choice. They should already be out of here. They should be backstage, making sure the mics are all working, checking the lighting, addressing last-minute choreo concerns, soothing nerves, giving pep talks. Making sure everyone remembered to pee. Making sure Amy is wearing underwear. They should have never ducked into this closet at all. Only a shitty captain would bail on her team with the clock ticking down.

These thoughts are all flitting around vaguely, halfheartedly, somewhere deep in her mind. But it turns out her mind is not in the driver's seat of decision-making at the current moment. Apparently there's at least one body part whose vote ranks higher.

Beca leans back against the door until it clicks shut again. She releases a shaky sigh as she finally lets her hand drop from the doorknob in defeat. There's a brief pause during which she considers her answer to Chloe's question. Then, in a breathy, distracted voice, she says, "You know what, they're big girls, I think they can handle it for like ten minutes, right?"

Chloe starts to laugh; then, as Beca steps forward and presses into her hard, pushing her back further into the dark room, the laugh turns into a squeal of triumph that's muffled by a desperate kiss.

---

A little bit later in the evening, and now showtime is rapidly approaching. In the old building's dimly lit backstage corridors, a figure is making her way through the gloom. A tall, blonde figure, elegantly postured, moving in a quick and purposeful stride, her high heels clicking on the tiles with a ladylike but no-nonsense echo.

Amy and Flo are standing around chatting outside the door to the dressing room, seemingly about the merits of Guatemalan breakdancing, when Amy spots this ominous figure heading in their direction. "Look out," she says in an undertone of alarm, "drill sergeant, twelve o'clock."

Out in the commentators' booth, John is once again peering at a sheet of paper.

"Now, here's a fun fact for our longtime listeners, Gail," he says. "It says here in my notes that pinch hitting tonight for the scabies-infested Emily Junk is none other than Bella MVP and living aca-legend Aubrey Posen, whose record for long distance projectile vomiting from a competition stage has still not been bested to this very day. And that's according to the official ICCA stats."

"Good for her!" Gail enthuses. "That is an impressive, if humiliating, accomplishment."

"Few have tried, but none have succeeded in knocking her out of that top spot," he adds.

"Well, she earned it, John. She really earned it. And I say that as someone who was in the theater that night, and who still, to this day, can not handle the smell of Parmesan."

"Hm." John makes a face. "Could have done without that reminder."

In the hallway, Amy ducks her head and attempts to flee with Flo in another direction, but it's too late, they've been spotted.

"Fat Amy!" Aubrey calls. She strides toward them.

Amy swings around, looking guilty, pretending to be surprised. "Aubrey! There you are! We were just... looking for you," she trails off unconvincingly.

"And not running away like terrified little prison bitches," Flo adds with an ingratiating smile.

"Where'd you disappear to, anyway?" Amy asks as Aubrey comes to a stop in front of them. "There was a spontaneous jam session, just like old times. Then Legacy showed up and rained mites on our parade. Was a bit awkward."

"Um, you know I can hear you from in here, right?" Emily calls hesitantly from the dressing room.

"Like I said," Amy murmurs, adding another silently mouthed, "Awkward."

"Well, I'm sorry I missed that," Aubrey explains testily, "but they had our lighting set-up all wrong, someone had to take care of it. Those filters would have made us all look like we just broke out of a TB ward. Apparently nobody but me is worried about the details! Also like old times."

Amy is staring at Aubrey's hair, which is half up, half down, with a portion pulled into a teased-out ponytail on the top of her head and wrapped in a green scrunchie, late eighties style. She's also wearing large hoop earrings and a pink off-the-shoulder sweater. "Sorry, just a little confused right now," Amy says distractedly, "because you look... adorable? But you're still quite scary. Sort of like if Punky Brewster became a dominatrix." She glances at Flo, who nods in agreement.

Aubrey looks puzzled at this, but she shakes it off, as if reminding herself why she's here. "Anyway, the reason I stopped you was to ask if either of you have seen Chloe or Beca? We're about to go on, and it's like they've just disappeared, no one has any clue where they are. You know, when I agreed to fill in tonight, I didn't think I'd have to run things. How that pair ever managed to win two national championships and a world title without me at the helm, I honestly have no idea."

"I'll bet they're already on the stage," Flo offers brightly.

"No, I just came from there," Aubrey snaps. "Are you simple?"

"Hey now, no need for that," Amy mutters. Then, off the fierce stare Aubrey turns on her, she drops her gaze and glances sideways at Flo. "Oh, I was talking to her. Because she's so simple."

Suddenly, from the end of the hall comes a muted thunk, like someone being knocked into a wall, and then a clatter of toppling brooms and mops. This is followed by a loud, high-pitched, breathless female moan of pleasure that's sharply cut off, as though a hand has been clamped over someone's mouth. They all turn their heads in that direction, listening. Amy and Flo exchange quick, mystified glances. Aubrey spins back around to face them, almost accusatory. "What was that?"

"Maybe it was a bird," Flo suggests, not at all convincingly. In reaction to Aubrey's challenging look, she amends this to, "Maybe it was a bird, ma'am."

Now Aubrey turns to Amy again.

"Don't look at me, I dunno!" she proclaims, all innocence. "Any strange sound that doesn't originate somewhere between here, and here," she explains, indicating the area between her boobs and her butt, "is out of my domain. Could be anything." Then after a pause, she leans forward and adds pointedly, "But it definitely wasn't coming from that janitor's closet. If you catch my drift."

For a second Aubrey continues to look at them like they're from another planet, but then all at once she sighs and gives up on them both. "All right, you two head to the stage, now, you should already be there with the rest of them. I'll get to the bottom of this. I can see that I'll have to do everything myself." She dismisses them by turning and starting toward the end of the hall.

"Aubrey, be careful!" Amy calls after her. "It might be a poltergeist!"

"Or the entrance to a drug cartel's tunnel!" Flo adds.

Aubrey reaches the end of the corridor and approaches the closed utility closet. She steps toward it, hesitates, then gives a few light raps on the door. "Chloe?" she calls in a low voice. "Are you in there? If you are, you need to- " She glances up and down the hall to make sure she's alone, then leans closer to the door and whispers sternly, "Finish up."

There's a pause, a brief gap of quiet in which only a faint, frantic rustling of clothing can be heard from within the closet, and then the knob turns and the door is pulled open from the inside, just enough for Beca to stick her head out. "Aubrey. Hey."

"Oh. Beca." Aubrey takes a step back, genuinely surprised. "Sorry, I just assumed..." She shakes her head, confused. "Um, have you seen Chloe anywhere?"

She's shaking her head no when, simultaneously, Chloe's voice calls out, "I'm here!"

Beca's eyes squeeze shut in a grimace of mortification. Reluctantly she swings the door further open, revealing Chloe standing behind her. "Found her," she whispers with a tight, ironic smile.

"Hey!" Chloe beams at Aubrey, not fazed at all. "Oh, you got your makeup finished," she says approvingly. "That green eye shadow looks amazeballs on you."

Aubrey manages a "Thanks," although her face is a mask of bewilderment as she looks back and forth from one to the other. They're both flushed. Chloe seems a little out of breath, and her lips are swollen and smudged, plus she's missing one of her star-shaped dangle earrings. Beca's vest is twisted like someone's been yanking on it, and a chunk of her hair is wildly out of place. Noticing this, Chloe reaches out and attempts to smooth the hair into order, but Beca swats her hand away, not taking her eyes off Aubrey.

Finally, Aubrey finds words again. "What the hell are you two doing in there? We're going on in like three minutes!"

"Wow, we did all that in seven minutes?" Chloe murmurs to Beca, who ignores her.

"Yeah, sorry, we totally meant to be out there by now, but there was a problem with... with the heating system," Beca stammers, as if grasping for any remotely plausible idea. She gives Chloe a meaningful look.

Chloe catches on, nodding at Aubrey. "Hot. Hot, way, way too hot."

Playing off this, Beca adds, "Right, and you know how much it sucks when everyone's sweating all over the stage, it's a nightmare. So, we found the main unit, to fix it."

"You know how to do that?" Aubrey asks, uncertain.

"Oh, sure, it's not a big deal, we just, like, fixed the- " Beca gives Chloe a desperate glance. "The, um..."

"Spark plugs!" Chloe offers. "Yeah. Needed serviced." Gaining confidence, she tells Aubrey casually, "Just, you know, lubed 'em right up."

Beca winces in misery while Aubrey continues to stare at Chloe, baffled. "What?"

"You know what, it's fixed," Beca tells her firmly. "It's good now. It's- it's allll good. The temp should be fine for us to perform."

Aubrey turns back to her. "Okay, well, then, let's get out there! We're already late. I will not be humiliated for my first time back on stage in years," she hisses at them. "Chop-chop, ladies!"

"Yeah, okay," Beca agrees, looking intimidated. Then she realizes she's still not moving, and jumps a little as she forces herself into motion. "Right." She edges around Aubrey, not making eye contact, straightening her vest as she heads off down the hall.

Chloe follows, sidling past Aubrey with an attempt at an innocent smile that turns slightly cowed as Aubrey narrows her eyes in suspicion at her. She hurries to catch up with Beca.

Aubrey watches them head toward the stage. Before she turns to follow, she sticks her head into the doorway of the closet and inhales a quick, experimental sniff, her brow knitted doubtfully. Noticing something on the floor, she leans over and picks up Chloe's missing earring. She examines it, twisting her mouth in skeptical contemplation. Then she closes her palm around it, yanks the door shut, and clicks off down the hall after them.

---

Turns out Aubrey was right, they're late; they make it to the stage just in time for a quick group huddle and a few words about how there's no pressure, this isn't a competition, and they're just gonna have fun out there and enjoy the chance to do this together one more time. Then it's straight to their places; they're not running out from the wings, instead, the curtain will open to them already on stage.

Beca stands in her designated spot in the hushed darkness, staring up at the rafters, hoping her focus will return before the number starts. Her heart is yammering and she's rattled; she's not sure why but she has the sense she's made a big mistake. Or possibly the mistake was in inviting Aubrey to be a part of this whole thing. Luckily the speaker who's introducing them is taking forever to get to the point, droning on and on about the need for donations to complete the new campus theater that will replace this one, so she has a little time to gather her wits.

She's still attempting to slow her breathing when she hears from behind her an obnoxious whisper. "Psst."

She ignores it, but it comes again, louder.

"PSST. Beca."

It's Amy.

She darts a look back toward her but remains facing forward. "Yeah?"

Amy comes up closer behind her. "I couldn't help but notice you've got a little something there," she murmurs through closed teeth, indicating Beca's neck. "I'm just going to throw this out on the table, but it looks like it couuuld be... lipstick. Or, have you run into any vampires lately?"

"Oh," Beca covers the spot indicated with her hand, attempting to wipe the stuff off without drawing any more attention to it. "Thanks." She tries to sound natural as she gives Amy a stiff smile. "My hand must have slipped when I was doing my makeup."

"Yeaahh, I'll say it slipped," Amy says, eyes widened in exaggerated disbelief. "Missed your whole face." She continues to stand too close and watch as Beca uncomfortably swipes at the spot. She points and adds in a monotone, "There's also some over on this si- "

"Thanks, Amy!" Beca cuts her off, agitated. "I got it, thanks." She readjusts her hair quickly to hide her entire neck, giving her a sharp look. "Thanks," she repeats, knowing she's already said it too many times.

Amy backs up slowly, hands raised as if in surrender. "Aca-fishy," she chants in a high-pitched undertone.

Beca shoots a murderous glance over to Chloe, who's positioned at stage left on the other side of the group, where she's busy replacing the earring that Aubrey has just returned to her. Chloe winces in sympathy and mouths a covert and adorable Sorry back at Beca. Shaking her head a little, Beca faces forward, determined not to look at her again. Only seconds until showtime now.

In her mind she tries to run through any last minute preparations she might have neglected. She checks her headset mic and readjusts it so that it's firmly in place and in no danger of slipping. She smooths her hair and straightens her vest again, then checks her pants, noting with relief that at least her zipper is up. Unfortunately the ugly sequined belt is still in place, too bad Chloe couldn't have lost that instead of an earring. A brief sensation of panic flares up when she reaches for the pitch pipe where she put it in her right hip pocket and doesn't feel it, since it could have been dislodged during all the... activity. But then after a frantic search she locates it in her left back pocket. (How the hell?) She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, trying to regain composure.

And then, all too soon, the moment is finally here, they've been introduced. It's happening. The curtain is opening, the stage lights are on them, and beyond the blinding brightness there's the audience applauding, then quieting down in a hushed murmur to wait.

Beca glances around, assuring herself that everyone's in position, everyone's ready. Then she takes another breath, raises the pitch pipe to her lips, blows out a clear, thrilling note into the silence, then softly counts them in. "One. Two. Three. Four."

Tonight / Feels like / We can do anything we like / Tonight / Feels like / The best night of my life

They start moving, slowly circling around each other.

I'm goin' in / I'm goin' in / I'm goin' in / I'm goin' in

And then Lilly brings the beat in, and they're back in business. It's incredible how it all comes back, how it feels like they've never stopped doing this. They all seem to experience the same familiar rush at the same time, trading knowing, exhilarated glances with each other.

Because of the extreme short notice under which they'd been asked to perform, Beca had chosen to rework some of their older numbers into the arrangement, assuming it would be easier on them all to re-learn a routine they'd once perfected than to start entirely from scratch. This first section is mostly a mashup of Goin' In by Jennifer Lopez featuring Flo Rida, and Grown Woman by Beyoncé, the latter of which she'd thought would make a nice statement about their new post-graduate status. Even though, at the moment, she maybe isn't feeling particularly grown. More like a hormonal teenager who did something very stupid and nearly got caught by Mom.

There are no big solos right out of the gate, it's a group number for the first few bars, and the dancing's not anything too complicated. But there's something off, something off with her, Beca can feel it right away. Chloe makes eye contact as the routine brings them together at the front of the stage for the first featured section of Grown Woman, but Beca's gaze skitters away, awkwardly. She concentrates on not screwing up the steps or the harmonies, but tries to avoid touching her, which is not easy, because this is Chloe's choreography, which always, always involves them touching each other. A lot. And how has she never noticed that before?

It's just that she suddenly has the bizarre, paranoid sense that what they did ten minutes ago in that closet is going to be obvious to the whole world. That somehow, out here, under these bright lights, they can't hide it, and everyone is watching. It makes no sense at all, but there's no room for rational thought at the moment. And tonight of all nights is going to be one of the longest performances they've ever done, since they were asked by the alumni organization to double their usual competition set time. Whatever it is that's throwing her off, she knows she'd better snap out of it, fast.

Their section now finished, she and Chloe fade back mid-stage as some of the others come to the front for their moment, and Beca wills herself to calm the hell down.

At least everyone else seems to be on their game. The energy is high, their voices are blending perfectly, and so far the choreography is on point. Even Aubrey's making it look easy, and she's been retired from performing for three years longer than the rest of them. In fact, she's doing better than the rest of them, although maybe that shouldn't be surprising, Beca reflects. Aubrey probably hasn't slept all week in order to make sure she's the best.

Up in the booth, John is admiring. "And the Bellas are back! Wow, just look at them taking that stage by storm, flaunting it like it's going out of style. And by it, of course, I mean their rapidly aging bodies. Gail, is it safe to say they've still got what it takes?"

"No doubt about it, tonight's surprise reunion will bring out the donations this university was hoping for. That two year absence has just..." Gail makes a dismissive gesture with her hand, "melted away, and it's like they were never apart."

"You said it." He muses, "In fact, one gets the sense that perhaps these ladies haven't truly managed to move on from their years here at Barden."

"Well, John, it's no wonder. When you've won three national championships and a world title before your real life even begins, is there anywhere to go but down?"

On the stage, Beca reminds herself to smile, something she always had a problem keeping up for even a six-minute performance, and which she suspects looks especially unnatural tonight. Not that she isn't enjoying herself, but she's also nervous in a way she's never been on stage before. If sex is supposed to release tension, then something has gone horribly wrong.

For the moment, the focus is off of her, because it's time for the rap bar from Goin' In, which Cynthia-Rose delivers with her usual impeccable mix of sexiness and swagger. She's assisted at strategic intervals by Stacie, who manages to sneak in a quick, non-choreographed groping of her own boobs and a wink to the audience on the word opera.

But there's not much time for Beca to relax, because they immediately move into the final group segment of the opening mashup, all of them now lining up next to each other at the front of the stage to reprise their crowd-pleasing hand-clapping maneuver from Worlds, this time set to a section of Grown Woman.

Go girl, go girl / She got that bomb, that bomb / That girl, that girl / Can get whatever she wants / That girl, that girl / She got that tight, that tight/ Them boys, they do whatever she like

Even though they've rehearsed this part ad nauseum and Beca had easily mastered it after just a few run-throughs, she now finds herself overthinking it at precisely the wrong instant. The trick is to let your body learn the motions and trust muscle memory to take over, but instead she lets her increasingly rattled mind get involved, and promptly loses the rhythm. Her hand keeps coming down in the wrong place, at the wrong time. It's mortifying, but luckily she's on the very end of the row and so she's prevented from doing too much damage. On her left, Chloe continues flawlessly as if she hasn't noticed the screw-up, though Beca knows she must have. She never misses anyone's choreography mistakes.

Now they line up in the other direction, in two rows facing each other, perpendicular to the audience, forming a corridor of sorts. It's time for the first featured solo, which Chloe (to Beca's slight annoyance) had requested go to Aubrey. Starting from the back, Aubrey moves through their human aisle like a bride on her way to the altar, and this is the point where they shift gears musically, into the second number. It's a dicey moment in any performance, but Lilly is utterly reliable as their rhythmic timekeeper, as always. The beat alters seamlessly and provides the backbone the rest of them need for constructing the harmonies.

It's not only a different song, it's the beginning of the special eighties segment of the set, and at the sound of it Aubrey's smile is like a flower opening to the sun. From the confidence with which she delivers her first solo lines, it's hard to believe she'd once choked at this moment.

Every time I'm tellin' secrets / I remember how it used to be / And I realize how much I miss you / And I realize how it feels to be free

Beca can sense the crowd perking up when they recognize the song, Only in My Dreams by Debbie Gibson. She'd at first resisted this number-Chloe's idea, again- because it felt too much like the Bellas' old style, and she was afraid it would taint her reputation as the arranger who broke them out of that mould. But the fact is, tonight isn't about them, it's about the class of 1987, which also happens to be the year this song came out, and many of the Bellas from that class are here in the audience. This particular crowd probably isn't clamoring to hear Ke$ha. So Chloe had won the argument, as she seems to do quite often lately. Somehow, Beca is finding it more and more difficult to resist giving in.

She has to admit, there's possibly no song on earth better suited for Aubrey's voice and style, and Aubrey's really bringing it, performing like the whole set so far has been just an extended intro for her solo. The crowd seems to agree. Beca's distracted from her own awkwardness long enough to be amused at the fact that some of the middle aged women in the audience seem peculiarly starstruck, as though they've been transported back in time and are actually at a mall screaming for Debbie Gibson. She glances at Aubrey to make sure she's enjoying her moment. During a section of the choreography that requires her to turn away from the audience, Aubrey catches Chloe's eye and mimes a silent squeal of excitement, while Chloe beams back proud encouragement and flashes a quick double thumbs-up. Even Beca can't help smiling a little at the exchange, it's that cute.

But her enjoyment is short-lived, because she's forgotten that the choreography now shifts to a mini-Dirty Dancing homage, with some bits of Eric Carmen's Hungry Eyes blended into the Debbie Gibson chorus. And Beca's designated dancing partner? Who else.

Chloe approaches, singing through a huge smile. It's clear she's enjoying the hell out of herself, a fact Beca is equal parts glad for and irritated by. Of course, having sex in a closet just moments before going on stage wouldn't throw Chloe off her game. Apparently it's a standard part of her warm-up routine; although not usually, Beca reminds herself, with a partner. But the novelty of a plus one for her backstage shenanigans seems only to have invigorated her. Whereas Beca still feels a slight shakiness in her knees, Chloe looks like she could do this for hours.

As they partner up and Chloe pulls her close, Beca once again attempts to avoid eye contact, but it's not easy given the sexual nature of the mixed salsa and cha-cha they're supposed to be dancing. And as if that weren't bad enough, the lyrics they're singing right into each other's faces, layered over the Debbie Gibson song, are One look at you and I can't disguise/ I've got hungry eyes/ I feel the magic between you and I. When she finally overcomes her own resistance and makes eye contact, Beca finds, not to her surprise, that Chloe's eyes are decidedly hungry. You would never guess that she got laid less than ten minutes ago. She looks ready to go again, right here on the stage.

The very thought of this causes Beca to tense up. During a move in which Chloe is supposed to swing her out and then pull her back in, she spins too far and stumbles onto the back of someone's foot, feeling their shoe come off. She turns her head to find that it's Stacie, who's likewise being unfurled by her dancing partner, Cynthia-Rose. Stacie turns to give Beca a quick baffled look, but manages to shove her foot back into her shoe and continue on like a pro. Beca catches Aubrey noting this screw-up. Great. But other than a raised eyebrow, Aubrey gives no indication that anything is out of the ordinary and continues into her final solo lines.

Thankful when the Dirty Dancing segment is over, Beca is even more relieved when she remembers it's time for the big slow-down in the middle of the set, which she'd been forced to add so that they'd have a bit of a breather during such a long performance. It's also Amy's solo, Alone by Heart, and Amy strides to her spot at the front of the stage with her usual outsized confidence. The beat shifts down into rock ballad tempo, and the choreography gradually settles into the same leisurely pace.

As usual, Amy pours every ounce of her energy into wringing the emotion from the lyrics, mugging as if her life depends on it.

I hear the ticking of the clock, I'm lying here, the room's pitch dark / I wonder where you are tonight, no answer on the telephone

In the front row of the audience, Bumper is standing, excited. "Yes! Fat Amy soloooww! That's my wife!" he bellows, pointing at her. "Crushin' it!" She blows him a kiss, still singing, and he pretends to catch it. Then he notices that the people next to him remain seated. "Get up, get up," he commands, manhandling them to their feet. "Get your asses up!"

As the chorus arrives, Beca hears the words as if for the first time, realizing how relevant they are to what just happened backstage, and wondering if Chloe chose this song with just that potential outcome in mind. She feels her face heat up as she sings the line I never really cared until I met you. Chloe is looking right at her with a playful smirk, confirming her guess as they both chime in with Amy for How do I get you alone?

Don't wink don't wink don't wink Beca prays.

Chloe winks.

Flustered and hoping nobody else noticed, her tension causes Beca to turn clockwise instead of counter-clockwise like she's supposed to, which means that she smacks straight into Jessica in a full-frontal collision. Jessica looks ashamed and whispers, "Sorry!" as if it's her fault. Beca decides to let her think that it is. She's mature like that.

Maneuvering back into the correct position, she takes a deep breath and tries once again to get herself under control. She can't believe this is happening to her. She's the cool one. The chill one. The one who doesn't crack under pressure. She'd once finished up the arrangement for a set list crouched in the basement with the other Bellas as a tornado touched down a few blocks away, because yeah, maybe they were about to die, but in case they didn't, shit needed to get done. This kind of thing just doesn't happen to her, at least not on stage. Absurdly, she finds herself wishing she'd eaten Amy's grilled cheese sandwich. Maybe there was a curse.

Now, finally, Chloe seems to notice that something is off, and she begins to watch Beca with uncertainty, then concern. The timing couldn't be worse, because the two of them are the featured soloists for the final number, Rihanna's Umbrella. There's some other eighties stuff folded into the mix; a little Vogue, some Cyndi Lauper, a touch of Janet Jackson. But the melody line hews closely to the Rihanna original-again Chloe's suggestion, due to the fact that it's been a record-breaking rainy winter in the deep South. (In Beca's opinion this is exactly the kind of musical pun that makes acapella so annoying, but she'd been overruled.)

As Lilly loops into the intro beat, each of the Bellas moves quickly to a different spot near the back or side of the stage and picks up her own designated umbrella from where they'd been strategically positioned earlier in the evening. With the way things have been going up to this point, Beca halfway expects hers to be missing, meaning she'd have to perform while miming an umbrella, but no, thank God, it's right there where it's supposed to be. She grabs it and heads back to the front of the stage to take her spot beside Chloe, realizing that she's now sweating profusely, which is ironic, given her earlier lie about the heating situation.

And now there's a new problem. It seems that her awkwardness is contagious, because Chloe has caught it as well. As she leads off the song, her pitch is fine, but her movements are stiff and too hurried; for the first time ever her choreography is slipping. Beca knows she's the problem, but knowing it and being able to fix it are two different things.

By this point, John is scrutinizing the stage. "This performance is musically flawless. But Gail, is it just me, or is there some significant onstage tension between former team captains Beca Mitchell and Chloe Beale?"

Gail shakes her head. "Mm, John, you could cut it with a knife, their once-tight chemistry is totally MIA tonight. If I had to take a guess, my wager is that these two ladies are either engaging in some Sapphic whoopie on the downlow, or they've buried a body together, and one of them is going to be forced to take the other out to ensure her own freedom from the law."

"Whoooa," John chuckles, "Drama!"

"As we all know, the deep bond forged during four years of collegiate acapella is one that can go in many different directions," she smiles.

"Amen to that, sister."

On the stage, they've now arrived at the chorus.

When the sun shines, we'll shine together / Told you I'll be here forever / Said I'll always be your friend / Took an oath, I'ma stick it out to the end / Now that it's raining more than ever / Know that we'll still have each other / You can stand under my umbrella / You can stand under my umbrella

Trusting that her voice and her pitch are safe from whatever weirdness is infecting her like a virus, Beca throws all her concentration into the tricky umbrella choreography. Sexy, she reminds herself. This is supposed to be sexy. Trying to channel her inner Rihanna, she adds a little extra hip action on her ella ella ella, eh eh eh. Instead of sexy, what she gets is clumsy, as she attempts to spin the still-furled umbrella like a baton and it nearly slips from her grasp. She catches it before it falls, but not gracefully.

"Booooo, this sucks!" Bumper calls from the audience. "Bring back Fat Amy!"

Trying to ignore him, Beca persists with her increasingly desperate attempts at sexiness. During another move which requires sliding the umbrella behind her head from one shoulder to the other, the hooked handle catches in her hair and briefly gets stuck. Chloe cringes, then seems to come to a deliberate decision not to look at her again. Beca feels another flash of irritation toward her. This is all her fault.

But seriously, what were they thinking with this routine? They should know by now that props are never their friends. Although to be fair, everyone else seems to be finding it simple enough. Stacie's the best at it, of course, wielding her umbrella with a sensual passion as if she plans to make love to it later. She makes it look easy. Beca tries not to be resentful.

Thank God, it's almost time for the big finish. If she can just get through this last section, she'll be home free. It feels like they've been up here for hours, not six minutes. Beca vows to herself that if she can just make it to the end of this performance without screwing anything else up, she'll never set foot on a stage again. Especially not with Chloe.

The chorus loops around again as the eighties elements are layered in more heavily for the musical climax of the piece. Now, finally, at the precise moment they've rehearsed, they all release their umbrellas at the same instant, creating a sudden bloom of varying bright colors across the stage. There's a gasp and an awed murmur of appreciation from the audience.

"The former Bellas bringing out all the stops here for what looks like a grand finale," John remarks.

Gail's clearly impressed with this number. "Now this is a visual treat! It's no secret that this group has a problematic history when it comes to props, but I've got to tell ya, John, these umbrellas are really doin' it for me."

"Well, it's like they always say, Gail," he concurs with an air of finality. "You just can't beat a good old-fashioned umbrella dance when it comes to representing female penis envy on the stage."

Gail winces, shakes her head without looking at him. "So close," she whispers.

By this point, Beca is practically counting down the remaining seconds of the set. One last bit of choreo requires dancing with the umbrellas in their open positions, a bit more of a challenge than when they were closed, but nothing she shouldn't be able to handle. Normally she would have vetoed this kind of visual gimmickry, but the truth is, they'd had to pull the entire thing off with such little prior warning that there was no choice but to rely on some stage magic. The arrangement still sounds good, though, Beca had made sure of that. They aren't overcompensating for anything, just adding a little dose of pizzazz to some fairly basic choreography. Or at least it's supposed to be basic.

Briefly, each of them pairs off one last time, spinning and twirling their umbrellas toward their partners, nearly bringing them face to face, so to speak. Beca's partner, of course, is Chloe. This particular maneuver is only supposed to last a few seconds, then they're supposed to turn the umbrellas back toward the audience, still twirling them, creating what should be a colorful kaleidoscope effect. There's only one problem. When Beca attempts to turn her umbrella away from Chloe's and back toward the front, it doesn't move. It's stuck.

And…. this is actually happening, she realizes with a kind of slow-motion horror. Just when she thought she was in the clear. Her umbrella is literally stuck to Chloe's.

They look at each other in panic. Somehow, the metal prongs along the bottom edges of the umbrellas have become attached, hooked together somehow.

They tug once. Nothing happens. Again, slightly harder. The umbrellas bow and stretch, but remain stuck. Finally, with the routine already moving ahead and the two of them falling behind, Beca gives an extra fierce yank on her handle. This time, the two umbrellas separate. But the force required to pull them apart turns hers completely inside out.

With an apologetic look, Chloe rushes to catch up with the choreography. Not knowing what else to do, Beca continues to perform with her now mutilated umbrella, never more grateful that the end is only seconds away. She's so glad they aren't actually competing for anything here. She can only imagine the reaction of a panel of judges. Even if the audience hasn't noticed, the judges definitely would.

Taking a deep breath to prepare for the last big belt of the arrangement, Beca makes one last effort to enjoy the feeling of this final moment, the moment that usually seems to come too soon but this time can't come fast enough. They all move together toward center stage and into their finishing note, everyone at the same instant closing their umbrellas back down again with a dramatic whoosh to end the song. Except for Beca, who can't close hers in its current warped state. All she can think to do is to lower it down to the stage, hiding it behind everyone-but not before accidentally jabbing Flo in the ass with it.

There's always a tense moment in that brief interval between the dying out of the last note and the audience's reaction, when no matter how they think they've done, no one can be positive what to expect.

But this time, there's no mistaking they were a hit. The uproar of cheering is instantaneous and hits them like a tidal wave of approval. In fact, some of the 1987 Bellas seem to be in tears. Aubrey gives them a bright smile and a wave. Beca halfway expects them to mob her for autographs.

The joy and relief of pulling it off washes over them, and there's the usual frenzy of hugging and hand clasping and high-fives as they bask in the glory of the moment. Beca heaves a huge sigh of relief, feeling the stress melt away in the obviously non-ironic sound of the crowd's enjoyment. They did it. No thanks to her, of course, but somehow, even with her screw-ups, they made it work.

When Chloe squeals and pulls her into a tight hug, she doesn't try to pull away. She smiles and hugs her back, closing her eyes, relieved that for just a few brief, blissful seconds, everyone else disappears and it doesn't matter who's watching.

---

As they all filter backstage immediately following the performance, Aubrey slips back into captain mode and offers her assessment. She still seems to be experiencing a rush from her star turn. "That was good, everyone," she tells them, a little breathless. "I think it went really well, considering how little prep time we had. Maybe a bit... rough around the edges," she glances in Beca's direction, but doesn't otherwise call her out. "But overall, not bad."

Cynthia-Rose is a little more blunt. "Wasn't bad for two days practice, but damn, Beca, what happened out there? You were so off, you made Fat Amy look good."

"Resent that," Amy says, pointing at her. "But," she shrugs, turning to Beca, "It was... perhaps not your best performance ever?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I don't know what that was, guys," Beca says. "I just couldn't get in the zone, or something. Maybe it's been too long."

Stacie is even less tactful. "Or maybe if you'd spent more time focusing on the steps during practice, and less time making goo-goo eyes at a certain ginger..."

"Well, it's over now," Chloe butts in before Beca can indignantly deny this charge, which it's obvious she was getting ready to do. "No use dwelling on mistakes. Beca said she was sorry. It's no big deal, we've all had an off night at some point. Stacie, what about the time your tampon fell out on the stage, and Lilly slipped on it?"

Lilly closes her eyes, looking nauseous. "I convinced myself that was a dream," she says softly.

"Sorry," Chloe tells her, patting her arm in sympathy. "It wasn't. Unless your dreams are uploaded on YouTube?"

"They are," Lilly confirms.

Momentarily bewildered by this, Chloe forces herself back on track and turns to the others again. "Anyway. The point is, nothing major happened. Beca didn't throw up, or flash her ladybits, or catch on fire. So, honestly, with our track record? An umbrella malfunction doesn't even crack the top five." She looks around at the rest of them, defensive, daring someone to contradict her. "And the important thing is, the show was a hit! The audience loved it, and that's all that matters, right?"

Nobody is up for arguing with Chloe, so they all reluctantly agree and begin heading back to the dressing room to change and collect their stuff. But as Amy passes by Beca, she can't help mumbling in a pointed tone, "Almost enough to make a girl wish we hadn't done any choreo, isn't it?"

Beca rolls her eyes as Amy moves away, but she manages not to rise to the bait.

Chloe hangs back to walk beside her as they follow everyone out of the backstage area and down the hall. But after a few seconds Beca feels a gentle tugging on her wrist. She looks at Chloe, who's once again quietly ducking into the utility closet they'd been in earlier, gesturing for Beca to follow her.

"Okay, for real?" Beca asks, although she's already slipping through and closing the door behind her. "It's only been, like, fifteen minutes, you can not possibly be-"

"No, no, it's not that," Chloe interrupts her, laughing a little. "I just- " She examines Beca's face closely in the dim light from the naked bulb above them. "I guess I just wanted to check and make sure you're okay? You seemed, I don't know, pretty jumpy out there. I was trying to relax you, with all this," she gestures at the closet. "But I think I made it worse. I'm sorry."

And even though she'd been annoyed with her just moments ago on stage and prepared to totally blame her for everything, Beca now finds that she can't do it. Partly because of the look on Chloe's face, but also because she just doesn't want to talk about it. "Don't worry about it," Beca tells her, but without quite meeting her eye. "It wasn't your fault. I mean, we probably shouldn't have-" She stops, goes back to a safe angle. "But that's not why. Like I said, I'm just rusty. That's all."

"Okay," Chloe says after a second, nodding. But she's not totally buying it. "If you're sure. But you know you can tell me if anything-"

"Yeah," Beca cuts her off, wanting more than anything to just stop talking about this. "I know."

"Good," she says, in a reassuring way, like she's trying to calm a skittish horse. "And anyway, I was telling the truth back there, I think it went aca-amazing."

"Oh, wow, are we still doing that?"

"And besides, the crowd never notices little mistakes anyway. They really loved us. Especially Aubrey, I think."

Beca gives a wry laugh, agreeing. "Yeah, she pretty much stole the show. You were right about the Debbie Gibson."

"Well, I don't want to gloat," Chloe shrugs, in an obviously gloating way. "But yeah, I was. The umbrellas were a big hit too, that was a nice touch."

"Those were also your idea."

"Were they?" Chloe twists her mouth, pretending to be uncertain. "I guess you're right." She smiles, then reaches out in a tentative way toward Beca's neck. "You've, um, still got some..." Gently, she tries to wipe off the last vestiges of lipstick.

"Oh," Beca says, compressing her lips, uncomfortable but at the same time not really wanting her to stop. "Yeah, thanks for that, by the way."

"Next time I'll wear a lighter shade."

She's joking, but when Beca meets her eyes to reply, something like There won't be a next time, the look Chloe's giving her is so tender and adoring that it throws her off balance and she forgets what she was going to say. The rubbing at her neck tapers to a delicate stroking and then stops, and now Chloe seems to be staring at her lips. For a second Beca's convinced she's about to kiss her, and she doesn't know how she'll react, because they definitely don't do that. Only before. Never after. Kissing after is a totally different thing.

But something in her expression must decide Chloe against the impulse, because she finally drops her hand and steps back a little, retreating to a safe level of banter. "Oh, and I'm glad you were able to find the pitch pipe," she teases, eyes glinting with mischief.

It takes a second, but realization slowly dawns on Beca's face. "You bitch," she says, but with a smile.

Chloe can't hide her sense of triumph. "Just keeping you on your toes, that's all." She considers these words, then adds slyly, "And you were really on your toes, when I did that. I think you were even on my toes, a little."

"Oh my God," Beca groans, but she also flushes, and hates herself for it. "We need to get out of this closet."

Chloe seems to want to make a joke about the double meaning of these words, but she maturely restrains herself. "Hey," she says, before Beca can make her escape. Now her expression turns a bit hesitant, which isn't like her. "On a more serious note, I was thinking that maybe, when we get back home, to L.A., we should, you know, talk about..." She seems to search for words, settling on, "the thing we don't talk about? Just to, sort of, make sure we're on the same page. With the rules, and everything." Seeing the look of mild alarm on Beca's face, she adds a disclaimer, "Doesn't have to be right away. Just, at some point."

"Yeah," Beca hastily agrees. She makes a concerted effort to meet Chloe's eye, at least for a second. "We should. Definitely." Then her gaze flickers away again. "At some point," she repeats in a vague mutter.

Chloe smiles a little, grateful for even this much of an agreement. "Okay. Good."

They look at each other again, and there's a slightly awkward silence before Beca says, "We should probably get back, if we want to give them the news before anyone leaves."

"Oh, yeah," Chloe agrees. "You're right. I almost forgot."

Beca opens the door and looks up and then down the hallway, wary, as if checking to make sure it's empty before they step out together.

They make it out into the hall, but before they can start back toward the dressing room, Chloe stops her one more time, a hand on her elbow. "Beca."

Beca turns back to her, unable to suppress a what now? look of strained patience.

"It was fun out there, wasn't it?" Chloe looks wistful, her voice warm with nostalgia. "Performing like that again, all of us together? I'm so glad they called us, even if it was short notice. And I mean, even with the mistakes, it was still..." she pauses. "It was still pretty incredible."

Her expression softening, Beca takes a few seconds to think back over the performance, not focusing on what she screwed up, but just on the good parts, on what it had felt like to be back out there with everyone again. She thinks about how much it means to Chloe, in particular, and agrees in a matching tone of sincerity, "Yeah. It really was."

Now Chloe smiles, raising her eyebrows a little, nodding at her as if to urge her on. She's doing that thing she does where she acts like she's still waiting for you to say something even though the conversation is clearly over.

With a sigh, Beca drags her gaze away and turns to start down the hall, saying affectionately, "Come on, weirdo."

---

Meanwhile, in the dressing room, everyone else is finishing up last minute stuff, changing out of their stage clothes, getting ready to leave. Emily is still there too, sitting on the vanity counter in her bathrobe, with the others carefully giving her a wide berth.

Now that the stress of the performance is behind them, they're all feeling much more relaxed and chatty, in the mood for their typical post-show philosophical musings, tonight's topic apparently inspired by the display of iconic late eighties objects in the theater lobby.

"Guys," Stacie says, yanking her sequined tank top off over her head. "Serious question. Who do you think is hotter, Mario or Luigi?"

"Neither." Aubrey shudders as she removes her scrunchie and fluffs her hair out. "They're both plumbers."

"Yeah, but they both have mustaches," Emily remarks dreamily. Off the strange looks she gets, she becomes self-conscious. "Oh. Am I the only one who likes those?"

Flo says in a strained-cheerful tone, "Plumbers and other blue collar workers are the true American heroes. And I'm not just saying that because Kellyanne might be listening."

"Mmmm," Amy hums in consideration. She whips out an underwire bra through her sleeve with evident relief. "Neither for me. If we're ranking Nintendo men, I'm gonna have to go with Toad. I like 'em small." She adjusts her now liberated boobs. "And mostly hairless."

"What about the princess?" Cynthia-Rose waggles her eyebrows at Stacie.

"The princess is a moron," Ashley comments sourly, zipping up her hooded jacket. "How many castles can one bitch get stuck in?"

Jessica gasps, giving her a little shove. "That's so mean," she giggles.

"I fell through a warp pipe and skipped over puberty," Lilly confesses.

They all pause what they're doing to stare at her and ponder these words, but before anyone can comment, Chloe and Beca come through the door.

Immediately Beca slows to a stop, glancing from face to face, judging the mood of the room. "Hey. Looks like someone just said something awkward and/or crazy. Soo, just the usual, then." Her gaze now takes in the entire group. "Um, anyway, if everyone could just, like, hang out for a sec? Before you guys leave to head back to the hotel, or the porn set," she gestures at Stacie, "or wherever, Chloe and I... sort of have an announcement."

Aubrey glances up sharply from changing her shoes, eyes widened in surprise and muted alarm.

"Called it," Amy nods, smug. "Think we all knew how this whole roomies situation would end," she mumbles out the side of her mouth, to no one in particular. "Notice how short their nails are, that's all I'm saying."

Chloe glances sheepishly at her fingernails, folding them in to the center of her palms, while at the same time Beca continues in a loud, firm voice, as if she hasn't heard Amy at all, "It's about my job."

"Ahh." Amy looks just slightly chastened. "Carry on, then."

But Beca seems unsure how to begin, now that she has everyone's attention. She looks at Chloe. "Actually, do you want to- ?"

"No, go ahead," Chloe says. "It's your moment, really, not mine."

"Yeah, but, I mean, the whole thing was technically your idea. I never would have thought of this."

"I never could have made it happen, though," Chloe insists. "That was all you."

Beca smiles at her, still waiting to see if she'll change her mind, palms up as if to say You sure? Chloe's nodding a bit, supportive but also a little flirtatious, urging her forward. They seem to be stuck.

"Ahem," Stacie clears her throat impatiently.

Beca jerks her head around, embarrassed, as if suddenly remembering there are other people in the room.

Chloe moves back now and sits down next to Aubrey on the dressing room's battered sofa, taking herself out of the equation, so that Beca is forced to go.

Unwilling to just stand there with everyone staring at her, she rolls a swivel chair a few inches nearer and sits on the arm of it, drawing in a deep breath before she begins. "Okay. So, here's the thing, guys." Everyone moves in a bit closer, taking seats or leaning against the counters to listen. "You know how I've been working at a record label for, like, a year and a half now, right? It's called Hang Ten Records, and it's just an indie, but, it's run by some really cool people. Strange, but cool," she adds as an aside. "It has its own in-house studio, and mostly I just, like, assist the sound engineer. I do a lot of auto-tuning, and audio compression, downmixing, stuff like that..." She notices that most of them look a bit lost. "Um, it's actually kinda boring sometimes? And creatively... frustrating. What I really want to do is produce. I want to do all the production, not just the grunt work. But the problem is, no artist wants a beginner handling their stuff, and I don't have any real cred yet."

"She's better than most of the pros, though," Chloe throws in, as if she can't help herself. "They should be begging to work with her."

Beca smiles a little and glances at her. "That may be a slightly biased opinion. But, yeah, basically," she agrees, only half joking. "So, anyway, I've been trying to come up with ways I can get some experience and prove myself. And, then, a few weeks ago, Chloe had this insane idea."

Everyone looks at Chloe, who nods. "It was pretty insane," she admits. "But also brilliant."

"And so..." Beca continues, "even though I thought there wasn't a chance in hell he would ever go for it, I ran it by my boss. And, it turns out? He's a total nutjob too, apparently. Because, he liked the concept, and he wants me to do it." She pauses for dramatic effect, with everyone still staring at her blankly, waiting. "He's gonna let me produce an album. Of us. A Bellas album." She almost forgets, but then adds, "That is, of course, if you guys'll get on board."

Beca waits impatiently for the room's reaction, but it's somewhat mixed. There are some confused looks, some skeptical looks, a perplexed "Huh?" The response is more muted than she was expecting, to say the least. Only Emily seems genuinely excited.

"An album? Hells to the yeah!" she gushes, arms raised, pumping her palms upward, trademark goofiness on display. "Tinseltown here we come, am I right? I would totally be high-fiving you all if I wasn't contaminated."

After another brief silence, Stacie ventures a puzzled, "So, would we, like, have music? With instruments?"

"No, it would still be acapella," Beca says. "I mean, that's what we do, right?"

"An acapella album?" Flo sounds doubtful. "And people in this country would pay money for that?"

"Well," Beca admits, "probably not many. But maybe a few, yeah. There's a niche market for everything."

"Wait," Cynthia-Rose says. "By Bellas, you mean like all the Bellas? The new ones too?"

"Oh, no," Beca says quickly. "Sorry, I should have been more specific. It would be just us? Our group, from Worlds." She hesitates, realizing Chloe is trying to communicate something to her with nothing but subtle eye movements. Within seconds she gets it and adds smoothly, "And Aubrey too, if she wants."

"Oh," Aubrey says, resting a palm over her chest in gracious surprise while Chloe beams at her and nods encouragingly. "That's so sweet, I'm flattered. Of course, I don't know how much time I'd be able to commit, with the retreat to run, but I'd be glad to be a part of it in any way that I could. And I'd love to see where the two of you have been shacking up, so to speak."

Aubrey's tone is pleasant and seems entirely innocent, but still this last part causes Beca to wait a half second too long before replying, which she does with a tense smile and a not entirely convincing, "Great." She turns to Emily. "And Em, I know your schedule's pretty crazy too, with, like, the real Bellas to run and everything. But we'd try to work around it however we could. The thing is, we'd have to do the recording pretty soon, because the label wants to fast track it onto their spring slate, so we'd have, like, one week max to lay down all the vocals. Which means I'd have to work up the arrangements really fast, and then do all the mixing and mastering in warp speed. Honestly, timing-wise, I'm not saying it wouldn't be tough. But I really think I could do it. And Chloe can help. I've been sort of teaching her some basic studio skills."

Chloe proudly volunteers the information, "I made a mashup!"

"You did?" Aubrey looks impressed.

"She did," Beca confirms, smiling but wary. "It's really cute, it was my Christmas present, actually. Or, one of them. And no, you can't hear it," she says, before anybody can ask. "It's, um, it's just, you wouldn't get it. Inside jokes." Chloe's biting her bottom lip and giving her a coy look, which Beca deliberately ignores, turning back to the room at large. "So..." She raises her hands in a questioning gesture at them. "You guys are being really quiet. I kinda thought you'd be more excited about this."

"It's just that... we're not actually a group anymore. Are we?" Amy says slowly, uncertain. "I mean, hello, we're not even in college. Won't it look, I dunno, a little sad?" She shrugs, "That is, more sad than acapella usually looks."

"Yeah, no offense, Beca," Stacie says, "but it sounds like something my grandma would buy in a cruise ship gift shop."

Cynthia-Rose is dubious as well. "It's one thing to get up there and perform on stage, but an album, that thing would be around forever. Our grandkids would hear it."

"And judge us," Lilly adds softly.

"Man, I know we all thought it was lame when the Tonehangers did it," Cynthia-Rose goes on. "We gonna be expected to shill it at competitions like they did? Because that shit would be humiliating."

"No, that's not- " Beca's looking frustrated by this point. "This isn't like other groups recording their own albums, where they have to pay for their studio time and then sell their stuff. The label would be signing us, as artists. This is the real thing. It's, like, a record deal." She looks at Cynthia-Rose in particular. "Isn't that what you wanted, dude?"

Cynthia-Rose considers this, not looking convinced.

Amy speaks up again. "Since we're all thinking it, then, allow me to cut to the chase." She rubs her fingers together in a classic gesture of greed. "How much green are we talking?"

"Oh," Beca's expression becomes a bit evasive. "Yeah, about that. See, the thing is, the music industry as a whole isn't doing so hot right now? And indies especially are really struggling. Plus the label has to cover all the production costs. So..." she winces, "I wasn't actually able to get us an advance." They're still looking at her blankly, so she sighs, and clarifies, "There's no money up front."

Now everyone looks disappointed, and even less excited than they were a minute ago, if that's possible, so Beca hastens to add, "But, the upside is that they're offering a pretty impressive royalty split. It's forty-sixty, so we do get almost half of all the money from album sales." She hesitates, then forces herself to be honest. "Which, as Flo has so helpfully pointed out... probably wouldn't be much. Especially divided between all of us."

Stacie looks briefly enthusiastic as an idea occurs to her. "What about endorsement deals? That's how famous artists earn the big money."

"True, but..." Beca's forehead wrinkles in bemusement. "I think we'd have to be famous for that?"

"Oh." Stacie crosses her arms sullenly. "Right."

Now Beca looks around at everybody, her patience wearing thin. She's torn between getting pissed and just flat-out begging them. "Look, I'm not saying this is gonna make us rich, guys. It's more about the experience? And, okay," she admits, "the thing is, it would be a pretty big deal for me to have an entire album on my résumé, as a producer. I really need this." She waits a second for them to get the point. "But that's not the only reason I'm asking!" she insists. "This would be good for you guys, too."

Lilly raises her hand.

They all look at her.

"How?" she asks.

"How? Well," Beca says, "I mean, there's, like- " Then she stops, blowing out a discouraged puff of air and raking her fingers agitatedly through her hair. Now that she's on the spot she actually can't seem to think of anything specific. She glances at Chloe for help, who appears to be mulling over a possible answer, but before she can say anything, to Beca's surprise, Aubrey stands up and steps forward.

"Beca, may I?"

"Oh. Sure." She cedes her the floor with a defeated hand gesture implying It's all yours.

Aubrey turns to face the assembled group, stern and disapproving. "Ladies, I have to say, I am appalled by what I'm hearing right now. Since when do we let the fear of being judged or the lack of financial reward stop us from taking chances? We're Bellas. We're famous for taking chances, and that legacy is due in large part to Beca herself. And now that she's asking for our help, you're all gonna puss out like a bunch of weak, spineless deserters? You should be ashamed of yourselves. What happened to the sisterhood I worked so hard to instill in this group? If you think that oath expired when you graduated, you're wrong. It's for life."

There's a slight sense of guilt and contrition in the room as these words sink in, some reluctant nods of agreement. Reconsidering glances are being exchanged among the listeners.

Aubrey continues, rallying them. "Come on, you all heard how great we sounded out there tonight! Don't tell me you don't want the chance to sing together again, or that your post-Bellas lives are such hot shit that you're too busy to be there for a friend. Because really, zombies? North Korea? Nun porn?" At this, Stacie crosses her legs and looks uncomfortable.

"Face it, ladies," Aubrey goes on. "You need this, just as much as Beca needs you. And aside from the goldmine of potential reunion time, this sounds like a once in a lifetime opportunity we're being offered. Think about it. An album deal could open all kinds of doors, not just for us, but for all the Bellas still to come. Now, do we want to rest on our laurels as champions in the small yet distinguished world of collegiate acapella, or do we want to take it to the next level?"

To Beca's growing amazement, she sees that Aubrey's got them, they're nodding, coming around and starting to get on board.

Aubrey sees it too, and now she goes for the big finish. "It's like my dad always told me." Her eyes take on a starry glow. "Shoot for the moon! If you miss... at least the fall back to earth will shatter your skull." She gives them one last emotional nod of encouragement.

The faces of the others register confusion, but Chloe smiles and links her arm approvingly with Aubrey's as she returns to sit next to her.

"Thanks, Aubs," Beca says, moving back to the front of the group. She adds under her breath, "Inspiring and depressing, as always." Now she looks around at everyone, giving it one last shot. "She's right, guys. There's literally nothing to lose here, and we're probably never gonna get a chance like this again. So what do you say? Do we go for it?"

The mood is different now, they're ready to sign on. Amy's the first to agree. "Well, I'd have to reschedule some things, a few dacha raves with some deposed Eastern European dictators, and what-not. But, yeah, I can always make time for you chicks!" she shrugs. "Why not?"

"Yeah, I guess I'm down for it, too," Cynthia-Rose confirms. "Just took a minute to get used to the idea of an acapella album... but I guess if it's the only gig I ever get, least I'll be able to say I was a real recording artist, right?"

Stacie has likewise made up her mind. "If they're in, I'm in," she says firmly. A new thought occurs to her. "Ooh, if we do get famous, can we ask the Kardashians to join?"

"Um, can they sing?" Beca asks her.

"I don't know." Stacie looks at her like she's crazy. "Who cares?"

"You know what, sure," Beca tells her. "Knock yourself out, Stace."

"Yes," Stacie hisses, like this is a real victory.

Beca shakes her head a little, then looks at Jessica and Ashley. "You guys?"

Ashley gamely lifts a shoulder. "Any job that doesn't involve hours of applying corpse makeup sounds good to me."

"Me too," Jessica agrees.

"Me three," Flo pipes up. "And I've never even been on The Walking Dead." Off of their puzzled looks, "It's a long story," she sighs wearily.

"Okay, then!" Beca says, not wanting to hear that story. "I will take that as a yes." Finally, she turns to the last hold-out, palms up. "So, Lilly, what's it gonna be? We need our rhythm section. Peer pressure, everyone's doin' it," she teases. The rest of the group joins in, encouraging her, softly chanting, "Lilly, Lilly, Lilly..."

Lilly seems torn for a few seconds, considering, but then a smile breaks through. She nods, and everyone cheers. "Just as long as I can bring my knives," she whispers.

"That is between you and the TSA," Beca tells her, relieved that they've all agreed. "But... good luck with that."

While everyone is distracted by Lilly's weirdness, Beca glances at Aubrey and mouths a silent Thank you, still surprised at her support. She's not exactly sure how this would have gone without it, because apparently she really sucks at motivating people, these freaks in particular. Aubrey smiles a little and gives her a nod that seems to say Anytime. The whole exchange makes Chloe way too pleased; she squeaks as she grabs Aubrey in a sideways hug and shakes her a bit, making her laugh.

"This is awesome, I'm so glad I snuck out and got to be here for this!" Emily is practically glowing. "And I, for one, can not wait to trap you alone in a control booth again, Beca. Did not mean for that to sound so creepy," she immediately adds with pointed finger, and without losing the smile.

Beca gives her an amused, understanding look and then lets her gaze take in the rest of the room. "So, just making sure, we're definitely all in agreement here? This is happening. Yeah?"

They all nod, smile, there are a couple of confident "yeahs!" in reply.

"Okay, then, you know the drill," Beca says, rolling her eyes and trying not to sound too happy. "Hands in." Her excitement briefly flashes into a look of alarm. "Except for Emily."

Emily remains standing safely back from the group, unfazed, and holds out her arm anyway. "Just, you know, imagine that my hand is in there. And that it doesn't have puppy mites on it."

Fired up and animated now, the rest of them all move in close, forming the familiar circle, hands stacked in the center. The buzz of anticipation in the room is palpable. Now that the album is for sure going forward, Beca for the first time admits to herself just how much she wanted it-and not just for her career, as she'd insinuated, but because of how much she's missed this. How much she's missed them.

She looks around at all of them, smiling at each in turn. Her gaze snags on Chloe's and lingers there, briefly getting stuck. Chloe's beaming at her, her expression a mixture of exhilaration and something like pride, with possibly even a hint of unshed tears in her eyes. The hand on top of Beca's in the pile gives her fingers a firm squeeze, and from that she knows who it belongs to. She forces herself to look away before she forgets that the others are in the room.

She's now grinning at them so hard her mouth is open, and she knows she must look like a world class dork, but she couldn't care less. She raises her eyebrows, as if confirming with them one last time that this is really going down. They're smiling back at her, waiting, expectant.

"Let's make a record, bitches!"

On three, they sing.

---

Author's Note (apologize in advance about the length of this note! It's the first one, and I've been adding to it for a year and a half, I promise they won't always be this long.)

First of all, helloo. [awkward wave] I'm CJ. Some of you probably already know me from tumblr, which I just joined a few months ago. I guess you could say I'm relatively new to the Bechloe fandom, even though I thought they were adorable in the first movie and had loads more romantic chemistry than Beca and Jesse, who felt like siblings to me. But it wasn't until I saw the sequel, after it came out on DVD, that I became a true convert. It was a little like going to Jesus camp, but slightly more gay. In the days and weeks after watching the movie I realized I couldn't get them out of my head, and at the same time I also realized there was no point even thinking about it because there's not much chance of it ever being taken seriously on screen. It felt like the kind of shipping that's destined to end in bitterness and disappointment, and I tried really hard not to let myself go down that path.

But you know how it works with this stuff, it's like falling in love and you can't control it. Once a pairing's chemistry has latched its hooks into you, there's no escaping. So that's when the idea dawned on me-if Beca and Chloe are never going to become a love story in the actual Pitch Perfect universe, then I can still make my own version of a third movie. Because I need to see it somehow, and I also want to share it and let you awesome nerds see it as well. Plus I love all the other Bellas and their whole dynamic, and I feel like PP fits pretty well with my writing style and sense of humor. And since I'm in a less-than-great place in my life and this is something that makes me happy, I decided to go for it. So, basically, that's what this fic is. It's an alternate version of Pitch Perfect 3, the Bechloe version.

And before I go any further, I feel like I should mention the fact that this chapter was really more of an introduction than a normal chapter, which is why it's essentially just one looooong scene that goes on forever. I apologize for the insane length, but I needed to get a lot of the plot elements introduced and catch you up with the characters, and I decided to try to do it mostly through dialogue rather than exposition, because I prefer writing dialogue. Also, I wanted to open the story like the movies begin, with John and Gail and a performance, which is why we join the Bechloe friends-with-benefits arrangement 'already in progress.'

BUT, I want to clarify that the next few chapters will consist of a long extended flashback to Beca and Chloe's time together in L.A., which will show the specifics of how everything started, including but not limited to Beca's first year alone in the city, Chloe showing up and moving in with her, the deepening of their friendship and all their wacky roomie hijinks, the incremental stages of how they started messing around, the Beca/Jesse breakup, and much much more. I never planned for it to be so long, but it turns out their chemistry makes it so easy to write them alone together, just the two of them, that I never run out of material or even feel the need to introduce another character into the mix. The result is that the flashback section just kept growing and growing, it's pretty much a Bechloe novel at this point. I should probably snip it out and make it a separate prequel, but the events are too important to what happens later, I need it to be part of this story. So, if you hate missing the beginnings of things, don't worry, you'll still get to see all the details! Once that section is done, the action will pick up in the present with the other Bellas arriving in L.A. to record the album.

A note about the plot: I chose this aca-pop stars concept because I wanted something that focused on the core group we already know and love, something that allows them to come back together as a unit post-college. And I thought there'd be a lot of great material to mine with watching them go from college acapella nerds to bona fide celebrities, and seeing how that affects their bonds with each other and how they handle the pressure. I've always wanted to explore fandom and shipper obsession, not just from our perspective but from the celebrity's perspective. What does it feel like to be in that spotlight and have us obsessing over their love lives? I don't think this story would necessarily make a good movie, because in a movie it would just be two hours of glitz and cameos, but in a fic I have allll the space in the world to give the Bellas plenty of interaction with each other and to focus on detailed character dynamics, as well as the Bechloe relationship. I'm definitely going to have a lot of meta fun with the whole Hollywood bizarro world and the crazy fandom and shipper element (re: us), and I hope to explore some serious issues regarding the industry's sexism, racism, and homophobia, but the story will always be grounded in the characters and their relationships.

A note about the focus and main characters: This is a Bellas ensemble friendship fic, but it's mostly a love story-a big old cheesy, epic love story, because I don't do that shit halfway. But there will be plenty of both elements, I'm going to try to keep a balance between the two, maybe something like 70% Bechloe, 30% ensemble and other friendships? The primary relationships to get focus will be: Beca/Chloe friendship/romantic relationship, Beca/Amy friendship, Chloe/Aubrey friendship/?, Beca/Aubrey frenemyship (lots of fun tension coming up between those two, because let's just say Aubrey is not at first a Bhloe shipper). There are also significant storylines involving Cynthia-Rose/Stacie, Stacie/Chloe, Stacie/Beca, Cynthia-Rose/Beca, Flo/Beca, Emily/Beca, Chloe/Emily… wow, I didn't realize until I started listing these how many dynamics there are. And then there's Raveena, my Barden Bella original character (Emily's co-captain) who will make some appearances later on, and who will eventually be Cynthia-Rose's new love interest. Lilly, Jessica and Ashley will mostly be used in comedic supporting roles, as they are in the movies, although in a much more expanded form. And the reason I gave Flo a new shtick is because I don't feel like spending an entire story making jokes about her Guatemalan past, I'd prefer to make fun of creepy conservatives. (Post-election update: given the current sad state of things, Flo's "overstayed her student visa" story arc will now not be entirely comedic, but I promise I won't make it too soapboxy. And rest assured she will get a very satisfying ending.) Last but not least, there will be tons of ensemble group stuff, because I love writing them all together like that, even though it does make the scenes go on forever when I have to give each of them lines.

A note about perspective and music: the story will alternate between Beca POV and objective "camera eye" for scenes in which she's not involved. I'll be the first to admit this is an awkward fit and it makes my writing a little muddled, but I need to use both styles to do what I want to do. In some parts it'll feel like a standard fic, with novel-like prose showing Beca's inner thoughts, but in other sections I'll try to make it feel more like watching a movie than reading a novel. There will be tons of music used, lots of performances (John and Gail will be back) and I may experiment with writing some sections in quick-cut montage style, where I'll specify which song is playing over the scenes. There will even be a riff-off. Yeah, that'll be a nightmare to write, I'm sure I'll regret it. But the music is essential to the story and I couldn't write it without it, so I hope you'll visit the soundtrack and the ship/character playlists on my tumblr (link is in my profile), I've got a page with all the audio included, I spent way too much time setting it up with the pics and everything; in addition to the soundtrack there's a Bechloe playlist, a Bellas playlist, and one for each character (well, Jessica and Ashley have to share theirs-they're used to it!) Music is enormously important to these characters, Beca and Chloe in particular, and it's enormously important to me as well. In a weird way, doing the playlists for the fic has been just as crucial for me as writing the text, it's all part of figuring out these characters and their stories and bringing this world to life. There are also snippets and short passages from upcoming chapters included with many of the songs, nothing too spoilery, but sort of like scenes that might be sampled in a movie trailer.

A note about the rating: So, I'm an adult, and I'm writing this with other adults in mind, although I realize the movies have a huge audience of younger girls as well. I'm not going to do anything too crazy, but there will be adult material-lots of off-color jokes and references, quite a bit of drinking, some minor drug use (if you're a fan of awkward!Beca, perhaps you might enjoy stoned!awkward!Beca), and of course, sex. There's not going to be super explicit porn, but when important to the story and character arcs there will be fairly detailed scenes. That includes all three of Beca and Chloe's "first times" in the flashback. Yes, there are three first times. It'll make sense later. The role of sex is also pretty important in the story as a whole, as Beca tries to figure out and come to terms with why being with Chloe is so, so different from the way things were with Jesse, and what that means for her. So just a heads-up that there will be more mature material than might have been obvious from this first chapter.

A note about the tone of this fic: I'm classifying this story as a comedy, and overall that's the genre it will most solidly fit into, although the whole thing will not be as purely comedic as this chapter. This was meant to be kind of a zany introduction in keeping with the tone of the movies, but there will be plenty of romance and fluff, as well as some angst down the road, a few scary bits, etc. And also a touch of serious/sad stuff, much of it relating to Chloe's issues and family background, because after seeing her say with tears in her eyes that the Bellas had been her family for seven years, and taking into account her clinginess and tendency to invade personal space, her entire backstory clicked in my mind. I don't believe someone stays in college for three extra years without some emotional baggage to deal with, so fleshing her out as a character and letting Beca really get to know her as she falls in love with her has so far been one of my favorite things about working on this story. Chloe is such a complex precious bundle of confidence and vulnerability and sexiness and loneliness and affection and drama queening and weirdness. And I may be a little in love with her myself at this point, sigh. Don't get me wrong, I love Beca too, but Beca is too much like me for me to get starry-eyed over.

And whereas in the first two PP movies, Beca's major emotional hurdle was learning to open herself up and let her friends be there for her, I think her next stage in growing up is to learn how to really be there for someone else. Although she still has plenty of her own lingering issues and fears to deal with as well, I won't ignore those. And lest anyone think it's going to be another gay panic story, Beca's fears about being in a relationship with Chloe are for the most part not about sexuality, they're rooted in issues which are very specific to her character and her past, and they stem from the fact that Chloe is her best friend, not the fact that she's female.

As far as plotting, my structure is tight enough so that it's outlined and already plotted out at all the major points (I even have a good portion of the final chapter and epilogue already written) but it's also loose enough to allow for me to add stuff around the edges-early on I had to decide whether to keep the story tight and concise, like a movie, and force myself to edit everything out that doesn't strictly need to be there, OR to just throw in everything I wanted and let it be what it wanted to be. I think you can probably see I chose the second option, both because it's just my nature to write that way, creating a patchwork quilt effect by piling on the details, and also because why not? I don't have any space or time restrictions here, and I'm not even wasting paper. The movies are so short, we never get to spend enough time with these characters, and I'm in no hurry to leave them. I'd also love to make the story somewhat fandom-interactive, so if there's anything you particularly want to see, like specific Hollywood or fan/shipper tropes, certain Bella interactions, Bechloe scenes, whatever, don't be afraid to ask. I might not be able to do it, but I'll try my best!

By this point you're probably thinking that this is a ridiculous amount of information about a story that I have no idea if anyone will read, and that I'm probably crazy. And you're probably right. It's just that I've become so invested in this world already, and it's been sort of a lonely process. I've actually been working on the story for a year and a half now, since October 2015, but have only just now managed to get everything ready to launch, because the playlists took longer than I thought they would. I don't know how often I'll be able to update, but I know that the more invested readers are in it, the more motivation I have for writing and the faster I work. It's going to be pretty damn long, though, I know that already. Like Harry Potter novel long. Possibly Harry Potter series long. You will have probably already noticed that brevity is not my strong point.

And who knows, maybe Beca and Chloe will actually end up together in the third movie and this will all be redundant. But I doubt it. I'd love to believe that's a real possibility in 2017, but I'm too much of a realist to think the studio would ever let them go that direction with such a huge money-maker, even if Kay Cannon and Elizabeth Banks wanted to. We've come a long way, but probably not far enough yet. Someday I hope to help change that at a professional level, but for now, I'm doing this, for you guys. I believe these love stories need to exist, even if they still mostly only exist on the internet and not on our movie and TV screens. (And since it's been a tough year in lesbian fandom, let me just say here for the record: I promise you nobody will die in this story!)

So if you would like to see it continue, please review, or stop by Tumblr to say hi, or something... just let me know I'm not doing this for nothing and that I haven't wasted a year on a project that no one really cares about reading. I don't really know how big the fic-reading portion of this fandom is, there may be only a handful of people who ever see this story, but if that handful will review and comment, it'll still be worth it. Thanks so much to anyone who is STILL reading at this point, because you've probably endangered your eyesight, and I take full responsibility.

Hope to hear from you! -CJ