She's Always the Pretty One
Author's Note: I very rarely write pure fluff, just drama that turns into fluff, so I decided to write pure fluff with no conflicts whatsoever today. Okay, have to shout out to my favorite Beck/Tori authors for inspiring me and making me smile at 1:30 AM when I read their stories – seemslikeaporno, Dramatic Starlet, xoAlmostFamous, and Camilla Monet.
Disclaimer: I do not own Victorious or the amazing Avan Jogia.
He walked through the hallways of his father's office. Always the big shot around town, minting money like it was no one's business. Today, the younger Mr. Oliver was brought to the headquarters in hopes of alleviating his dreams of becoming an actor and turning him into a charming (read: stressed) businessman.
Beck was pissed off. He'd been determined since the age of 9 to grow up and gain Hollywood fame and knew, just knew, that he didn't want to turn into a modern version of his father. He was already well-prepared for a horrible day in the office and kept his phone fully charged and laptop ready. Enh, at least the building's been renovated and looks nice, he thought when he saw the glimmering beige tiles and leafy green plants. The gray cubicles on the other side hadn't changed though; they never would.
Beck's prim and proper dad was muttering on about the latest figures and stock values the company had rocketed to. The defiant teen had tuned him out and concentrated on looking around at the dazed, nerdy workers. Wow, it looks like they're having fun, fun, fun.
"So, I know you're not exactly enthusiastic about this whole thing," his father said as calmly as possible. "But I want to give you some time to relax and explore, and hopefully, you'll realize that we're not all computer-obsessed and overworked."
Beck smiled, surprised by his dad's considerate demeanor. "Thanks, dad."
He traced his combat boots through the hallway, refusing to compromise on his unique style just because he was forced to wear a dress shirt and jacket (jeans were hotly debated, but he won). Beck believed his brain was going to be completely drained of any remaining joy as he went down to the 15th floor, having randomly pressed a number on the elevator. He nodded a greeting to some of the longtime workers he recognized and then peered into a cubicle when he heard someone say, "Crap!"
Beck immediately stopped in his tracks when he saw a young female, decked in a cute black and white striped dress, sitting on a dark red computer chair. The unidentified woman had long, brown hair that was hidden by the back of her seat. She was stuck on the welcome screen of her computer with an error message. Probably for a password, Beck assumed.
He pointedly cleared his throat, and the teenager (score!) turned around. She had a beautifully bright smile and a bubbly look about her. She was a talker, Beck could tell. "Hi!" she greeted enthusiastically. "I'm Tori Vega, a sophomore at Sherwood. I'm hanging out with my mom today, whoop-de-doo," she joked with jazz hands. "And you are?"
Beck gave her a somewhat sultry look, his usual way of charming girls. She was completely unfazed though and merely kept showing off her innocent, toothy grin. "I'm Beck. Sophomore at Hollywood Arts." He pushed his hand out, and she shook it, then motioning towards the empty seat beside her. Beck sat down and drummed his fingers on the desk.
Tori casually placed her hand on her cheek. "So, are you an intern here?"
"No, no," he laughed. "Shadowing my dad, although I really don't want to spend a whole day here."
The girl grinned, her smile reaching her well-defined cheekbones. She pushed away strands of hair from her light tan skin. "How about if you spend it with me? Maybe we'll both actually have some fun."
Beck shrugged. "Sure."
She's always the pretty one.
.
Two coffees and three rounds around the building later, and Beck and Tori thought they knew all there was to know about the other. She was cute, funny, and smart – a future set in the medical profession, two boyfriends that cheated on her, and a powerful inclination towards helping abused children. He was actually Beckett (a name he despised), handsome, and calm – determined to become an actor, single (because the girls at his school just weren't worth it), and fed up with his parents to the point of living in an RV away from his family.
But in reality, all they could really say was that they were incredibly attracted to each other. Blame it on a boring day.
"Your father owns this company?" Tori asked disbelievingly as they stepped into the chrome elevator. "As in, everyone here works for him?" Beck nodded. "Wow, that's a lot of pressure on you," she said understandingly.
"Yeah, but I rebel it," he said. Tori boldly pulled his hand into hers, and they walked out of the elevator as though nothing had changed.
The two muzzled their way into the nearby break room, devoid of any bored, unpleasant adults. Beck quickly turned the round silver knob and locked the room. Tori gave him a strange look, which was rapidly changed into one of shock when Beck pushed his lips onto hers. But she ended up reciprocating.
(Teenagers. They're uncontrollable.)
So, when some old guy was knocking on the door shouting, "Hey! Why's the door locked?", Beck broke one of his many kisses with Tori to say, "Janitors! There was a…huge spill." She giggled childishly against his lips, making Beck retaliate by kissing her even more roughly and mussing up her hair.
Damn, Beck thought, I'm screwed. Her lips are always the pretty ones.
.
The couple ended up sneaking away from the office and texting their parents later that they were going to hang out. No opposition there, just a 'come home soon.' (Their parents gave up on controlling them ages ago.)
Beck relished the feeling of Tori's beige skin under his hands. His hands softly went over her cheeks as he sat there admiring her, ignoring the sand that was sneaking into his clothes. Tori's neck was sticking out as she looked at the sunset from the secluded spot they were laying on at the beach. She smiled contentedly to herself, noticing each border where colors merged from pink to yellow to orange. Beck found his lips moving to her neck, and Tori shrugged her shoulders upwards, tickled by his gesture. She shook off sand from her bare arms and held Beck's hand in her own.
"You're beautiful," he complimented gently.
A blush crept up on Tori's cheeks, and she rolled over to stare straight at his face. She looked up and down at him and then joked, "You're okay." Her newfound acquaintance gave her a depressed look and pouted. "Alright, alright," Tori admitted. "You're a very handsome man, Mr. Beckett Oliver," she said in an affected manner.
Sand got caught in between the couple as they leaned in, causing an itch to arise on their collarbones. "We're thinking this through on our next date," Beck stated, "and getting a blanket."
"Next date?" Tori raised an eyebrow. "Let me think about it," she said seriously, returning to her original position of lying down.
Beck brought both his thin arms around the even thinner girl and rolled around in the sand. "You are such a tease," he complained. The effervescent teenager let her laughter ring throughout the beach as she played around with her serious companion. Her laugh's always the pretty one.
.
It was uncomfortable as hell, driving back in Mr. Oliver's expensive car, getting sand over the leather seats and trying to find a place to eat where they wouldn't be given odd looks. They settled on relaxing in Beck's RV, a location that would also reveal deep secrets of the adolescent. Beck was nervous about the impression his RV would make on this seemingly perfect girl. But she insisted, and when Tori Vega subjected someone to that innocently pleading look, she knew they were going to listen.
The room was cluttered, filled with knickknacks and colorful objects in every corner. Tori almost fell back a step upon entering the RV, but was caught by Beck. He helped her up, and they walked in together, Beck amused at Tori's awe. Her head never remained focused on any one object, flitting from the neon pink longhorn symbol to the collection of records adorning the walls.
Tori slowly said, "Oh. My. God. You're such a packrat."
Beck chuckled. "No, I just define myself through my interior design," he winked flirtatiously.
Two bowls of microwavable macaroni and cheese later, and Tori was lazily lying in Beck's arms. They had fallen asleep and only woke up when Beck fell off the bed. The joyful girl kept laughing at him until he pulled her down with him.
And that was that. Hazel met brown, and her eyes are always the pretty ones.
.
They were kissing…hard…to the point where Beck could easily taste watermelon lip gloss, and Tori was lightly pushed against the brick wall, but she didn't mind it at all. It was his goodnight kiss to her for the night before they potentially didn't see each other ever again. (Although if Beck and Tori had their way, they'd see each other every day of their lives.)
But then, too much pressure was placed and Tori scratched her neck, a few drops of red oozing out. Even then, her smile's always the pretty one.
.
Two days later and they were miserable, cursing themselves for not getting each other's phone numbers or something. Tori was too embarrassed to tell her mom, and Beck already had a weak relationship with his parents. They were stuck. Alone.
.
Tori desperately tried to remember just where he lived. Whelton Street? Wishter Street? Hah, Wodehouse Street. (Thank you, Internet search engines.) Braxton Oliver located.
She rode her bike over to his street, locating his RV as the only one on the block and began knocking on the door loudly until she heard someone inside. Tori breathed a sigh of relief when he opened the door, a smirk present on his face.
"Hello," he said casually.
"You need my number to call me for our next date," she stated before surprisingly kissing him and making him tumble onto the floor.
Beck looked at her dead in the eye and asked, "We're not exactly the most graceful couple, are we?" He watched her giggle and determined that she really was always the pretty one.