All I own is a few dollars, too many pets, and a debilitating crush on Chloe Beale.
I definitely do not own Pitch Perfect.


Beca set up a playlist to run in her absence, grabbed a beer from the minibar behind her, and headed to the small smoking area outside of the club. As she stepped out and lit up she noticed a redhead leaning against the brick wall struggling with her lighter.

"Having trouble?" Beca held her lighter out to the woman.

"Oh," she looked over at Beca, tossing her lighter into the trashcan nearby, "Thank you."

Beca took a few steps away, she didn't want to seem like a creeper, and alternated inhales and exhales with sips from the bottle in her hand. Soon the other woman moved to stand in front of Beca, holding her hand out.

"Hi, I'm Chloe."

Beca set the beer down on the concrete by her feet and looked up into Chloe's eyes, shaking the hand offered to her. Then it happened. Beca couldn't quite describe the feeling; sort of like every cell in her body exploded at once, carefully reconstructed its entire being, then arranged itself so that they all rested in exactly the right places, exactly where they were supposed to be. Beca had obviously never felt this before but she had heard plenty of stories and knew what was happening. Winded like she had run a marathon, she breathed out her own introduction.

They stood, appraising one another. Chloe was an inch or so taller than Beca, with thick and wavy red hair past her shoulders, contrasting Beca's dark chestnut hair. They both had blue eyes but where Chloe's were a startling shade of light blue, Beca's were a very rare dark blue. The brunette was wearing a black v-neck under a black leather jacket, dark red skinny jeans tucked into black boots, and her white headphones around her neck. Chloe was wearing a black scrap of fabric masquerading as a little black dress, grey leather ankle boots, and her black eyeliner made the color of her eyes pop even more.

"I don't usually smoke, you know?" Beca hummed, too caught up in what was happening to her to respond. "But my best friend and I came here with her boyfriend and some of his friends. My friend, however, has been chatting up a gorgeous bartender for almost an hour now and I'm stressed about how her asshole boyfriend is going to react to that once he notices."

"Tall, brunette, looks like a Victoria's Secret model?" Beca asked and Chloe nodded.

"Oh, that's my best friend, Stacie. Your friend is safe with her, promise."

"What do you mean, safe?"

"Sorry, it's not, like, dangerous in there or anything. I mean she's not going to like… take advantage of your friend, or let her get too drunk, or let any sketchy dudes mess with her."

"That's good to know. Thanks." Chloe smiled at her and Beca almost tripped over herself opening the door for the redhead.

"Listen, if you get bored or if you just want to get away from her boyfriend, you two are welcome in the DJ booth with me." Beca shoved her hands in her pockets and nodded up the stairs they stood next to, attempting a charming smile.

"Wait, you're the DJ?" Beca nodded. "Oh my god! I've loved everything you've played so far. Wow, that's actually really hot."

Beca's eyes widened as Chloe pupils dilated further and she stepped forward to kiss Beca's cheek. "I'll talk to Aubrey about it. See you soon, hopefully!" And with an endearing wink the crowd swallowed Chloe up on her way back to the bar.

Hey Stace, I need a favor. The blonde you're talking to has a friend named Chloe. Red hair, black dress, and bright blue eyes? Keep an eye on her for me please?

Will do, boss! ;)

Beca smiled, slipping her phone back into her pocket on her way up the stairs and got back to work.


Beca and Stacie walked out of the club together, the taller brunette's arm slung over her best friend's shoulder. As they approached the parking lot, Beca saw Chloe and a blonde sitting on a bench under a light not ten feet from her car. The blonde was wearing a green dress no less skimpy than her friends and they were leaning against each other giggling quietly.

"Jesus, Stacie, you had one job."

"Hey," Stacie huffed, "They're both very convincing. You try saying no to those faces." Beca wisely stayed silent.

"Hello, Chloe."

"Aubrey, hi."

Both girls' heads snapped up with goofy, drunken grins.

"You two never came up to the booth." Beca pouted accusingly.

Chloe giggled, waving a dismissive hand around and almost punching Aubrey with it. "Sorry. Someone's boyfriend was being a jerk. They got in a fight and he left without us."

The brunettes looked at each other, silently communicating with an ease born from several years of friendship. "Would you ladies like rides home?" Beca questioned.

"Oh," Aubrey scrunched up her face into an overly apologetic expression. "We wouldn't want to impose." She and Chloe shook their heads back and forth simultaneously and widened their eyes like small children asking for ice cream after dinner.

Stacie grinned. "Beca and I like to think of ourselves as something like gentlemen. Our poor, fragile egos would be wounded if you didn't accept."

The blonde and redhead had their own wordless communication, nodded at each other, and stood. Chloe slipped her hand into Beca's and the brunette froze for a second before relaxing. It felt nice, warm and soft. Stacie was leading Aubrey towards her gunmetal grey '69 Ford Mustang when the blonde abruptly spun around, Stacie's arm helping her keep balance. "Wait, but we share an- "

Chloe made an unsubtle slicing motion across her body. "Shh. Thank you so much, Stacie. Bree, let me know when you get in, okay?"

"What? But we... Oh. Ohhh, okay." Aubrey drunkenly exaggerated a wink. Stacie snorted and they resumed their journey.

Beca lead Chloe by the hand to her matte black '69 Chevy Camaro and helped the redhead into the passenger seat. Chloe gave her address and Beca smiled because she knew exactly where it was. The redhead sang softly to the music on the radio and retook possession of Beca's hand. She had to shift gears with the same hand she was steering with, but Beca didn't mind at all.

Standing outside Chloe's apartment door, the redhead slid her hand into the inside pocket of Beca's jacket and snatched the cell phone in there. Beca laughed, guessing what Chloe's intentions were. When her phone was returned, she laughed harder at the 'smokin redhead from the club (Chloe)' followed by a fire emoji above the new number.

"Call me, maybe?"

Beca smirked, trying not to laugh again. "Definitely."

Chloe bit her lip and tilted her head to the right. "I like your face. A lot."

"Than- " Suddenly, Chloe's soft, soft lips were folding over her own and Beca sucked in a sharp breathe through her nose. Chloe didn't start off slowly and Beca instantly felt her emotions surge. She felt wild and out of control and it terrified that she couldn't stop or pull back. She turned Chloe so her back was against the wall and carefully licked along the roof of her mouth. She tasted like vodka cran and disaster.

Unexpectedly, snickering and "My bad, Becs!" followed by a high-pitched "Oops!"

Beca looked over to see her friend helping Aubrey over the sidewalk's curb and coming towards them. Chloe slowly released her grip on the lapels of the brunette's jacket and cleared her throat.

"That's alright, Stace."

"You heading up?" She pointed upwards, towards the stairs above their heads and Beca nodded. "Alright. I'll be up there soon, then."

"Up?" Chloe asked.

Beca looked sheepish, hands shoved in her pockets, staring at her boots. "I actually live here, too. On the top floor."

"Awesome." Chloe smiled and quickly kissed Beca's cheek. "Call me, text me, whatever!" And disappeared behind the door.

Beca just finished changing after a quick shower when her best friend burst through her door, grinning from ear to ear. Beca grinned back; glad her friend was happy but neither of them could hold in the news anymore.

"Dude, I imprinted on her!" they yelled at the same time.


Beca groaned and unearthed her head from beneath her pillow, only to immediately replace it. "Stace, you forgot to close the blinds. Again."

Stacie, half sprawled across Beca's back with her head between the girl's shoulder blades and left arm stretched to curl her hand around her friends sharp hip bone, extended her neck to press her lip behind Beca's ear. "Your room, your job."

The DJ turned her head the other way, blinking into the room filled with bright Sunday afternoon light. Eventually, Stacie rolled so Beca could flip onto her back and then rolled right back to straddle her friend, sitting on her solid upper thighs inside loose sweats. Beca's long, slender fingers rubbed up and down Stacie's naked thighs where goose bumps rose until longer fingers threaded into her own. "So, we met our mates."

Beca nodded, feeling a prickle of anxiety. Stacie's lips were quirked to the left; the face she made when they were about to talk about important things.

"So we should probably stop having sex."

Beca's grip on Stacie's fingers loosened, her eyes shuttered and closed off. Beca thought that was a foregone conclusion, she didn't know why it needed to be discussed, she hated talking about things like this and Stacie knew it. It's not like it would tear her apart; it wasn't about passion or desire, after all. What they did started as experimentation and practice, when they were younger, and gradually morphed into the occasional fulfillment of a basic need that they both had. They knew from the beginning that they weren't meant for romance but there was no denying the deep-seeded connection they shared. No, Beca wouldn't necessarily miss the sex. What she would miss was the closeness, physical and emotional, that came with being as familiar as she was with her best friend. Beca didn't behave the way she did with Stacie with anyone else, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because Stacie was the most important person in her life and she loved her deeply.

"Becs, sweetie, look at me." Stacie smoothed her thumb over the furrow on her friend's brow until it disappeared. "I don't mean we should stop touching, being physically close with each other," she said as she pushed her hands up Beca's tank top to cradle her ribs on either side of her chest, stroking her thumb along the bone underneath her breast in a way soothed the girl, Beca had said it felt like Stacie was holding her together when she felt like falling apart. "I'm not sure I could, anyways, I mean, I think I need this. I need what I have with you now; it makes me feel special and protected and happy. You're, well, I guess you're my safe place?"

The DJ breathed a heavy sigh of relief and smiled fondly at the girl on top of her, biting her lip and looking nervous. It always amazed and comforted her that Stacie could voice her feelings so readily and fluently because Beca was the opposite and it made things much simpler. She sat up, tight abdominal muscles easily lifting her, and tapped a rhythm against the ridges of Stacie's spinal cord beneath her tank. "You're my safe place too. You always will be. No matter what happens now." She laid her cheek against Stacie's chest, listening to her heartbeat slow as the other girl negotiated nimble fingers through her hair, fixing the mess it had become while they slept.

"No matter what happens." Stacie replied.


"Shit, shit, shit."

Beca was so late. She was going to be late on the first day of her senior year. Shit. She didn't really have the time, but she set up the coffee pot and ran back to her room to get dressed while it dripped. If anyone expected her to form a coherent sentence today, she needed that coffee desperately. She flung herself down the stairs, shoving a granola bar in her mouth and finished chewing it as she was pulling out of the parking lot towards school. She chugged her black coffee because the school was a mere ten minutes away from where she lived and some teachers were really weird about food or drinks in the classroom. Luckily, just about everyone at school knew that she and Stacie always parked next to each other, so she swiftly pulled in next to the Mustang near the front and dashed towards her first period AP Literature. She barreled through the safety exit door at the back of the classroom, where she and her friends would usually sit because they had better eyesight than the normal students, with barely a minute to spare before the bell rang. She spotted her best friend in the middle of the back row sitting rigidly upright in her hard plastic chair, for some reason, and dropped a quick kiss to her temple before pouring into the seat next to her.

"Morning, Stace."

"Becs, look up front."

"What, why?" She swiveled her head to see what was so interesting at the front of the class and there she was. Chloe, the smokin' redhead from the club; hair neatly tied into a bun with what looked like a no. 2 pencil, form-fitting black blazer over a blue blouse, tight black chinos that stopped right above corresponding blue pumps, and black rimmed glasses, because, of course. The red head looked like her body had frozen in the process of organizing papers on her desk and her bright blue eyes were wide as saucers staring back at her. Beca's eyes briefly flitted to the whiteboard behind the woman and could clearly read, in loopy, girly letters, 'Miss Chloe Beale, AP Literature'.

"Shit."