A/N: First time writing for this fandom. Contains spoilers for Pitch Perfect 2 (minor, but present). Enjoy~! :)
You would later realise that you had absolutely no idea what happened during the final song. Emily had been absolutely a-ca-incredible (and oh god you weren't really using those words, were you? That was cringe-worthy…), and the flashlights were awesome, but everything had been lost in that adrenaline rush afterwards.
You would also later realise that you weren't all there after the finale song, either. You recalled (briefly) Das Sound Machine in its entirety coming over to look you up and down and offer a handshake. The female lead (and great heavens she did smell like cinnamon how was that even fair?) had even given a slight smile.
"Ve shall be beating you in the next year," she said, and all you could do was offer an off-kilter smirk (why the fuck would you do that, Beca!? Are you actually- what is this now?). The other girl had walked off after that, only to be replaced by an ecstatic Chloe, whose eyes had actually been filled with tears as she pulled you into the tightest hug you'd ever been given. It lasted far longer than the typical ones, but you figured that she deserved it. The Bellas' had absolutely kicked ass.
But then Chloe had put her head on your shoulder, still not letting go, and you wondered if she were asleep (or drunk. Or both). You felt her hands clench against your back for a moment before they were gone, and she was looking at you with a strange expression.
It was gone in a flash, and she was smiling.
"Come on!" she said, grabbing your hand. "There's a party for us!"
And maybe you noticed that her grip seemed a little tighter, her expression both more manic and yet more reserved, but hey. There was alcohol and friends and you didn't need anything else.
You were onto your third beer (and DSM was very lovely in pointing out the best German ones), decidedly on your way to tipsy, before you saw Chloe again. Fat Amy was dancing somewhere, and Emily and Benji had snuck out almost straight away. You'd logged onto Facebook briefly to tell everyone the news (your father would be happy) and had been kicking back since.
Jesse had been and gone—he had another flight to catch home, leaving at 3 in the morning. You still had another three days here. A holiday, of sorts, now the pressure was over. You were planning on asking Emily to do another collaboration but- er, maybe tomorrow. Now was a bad time.
You downed the last of your beer, getting ready to head back to your hotel, when someone approached you. You were 99% positive that you didn't know them because your vision was slightly blurry, your head light (wow Germans don't mess around when it came to alcohol). He grabbed you by the shoulder, smiling with his teeth and sending a chill plummeting through you. He mentioned something about going back to his, and though you tried to shake him off, he didn't budge. Your speech was slurred, and yeah, you were in a Bad Decisions kind of headspace, but not this bad.
You're only saved because Chloe seems to notice. Of course, you've noticed her looking throughout the night, that same strange expression on her face, but she'd not approached you—too caught up in the festivities. You had fun dancing with the girls for a while before deciding to sit back.
But not now. Now Chloe was approaching you, brows furrowed and lips drawn back in a snarl.
"What're you doin'?!" she slurred, only sounding slightly less drunk than you. "Sh-she doesn't wanna go withoo!"
And you shoot her an appreciative smile and her entire face lights up. She locks one elbow with yours, but before she can tug you away, the guy is pulling you back. You would definitely rather be with Chloe right now, and you don't hear him say something as you attempt to break free of his hold.
It's only when you feel soft lips on yours, tasting of cherry and vodka and some kind of citrus, that you stop struggling.
The hand on your shoulder lifts, and though you can't hear it, you can feel the boy's presence lift too, leaving you.
The lips don't.
A hand snakes up to your cheek, while another one presses on your lower back. Your eyes open, you can see that Chloe's are shut; that there's a red blush rising to her cheeks and the way her lips press insistently against yours leave no room for the thought that she was only doing it to get the boy away.
And you remember, vaguely, that this is similar to how your first kiss with Jesse went, except for the fact that you kissed him, and that he wasn't a fantastic kisser. Too rough and insistent. You also can't help the fact that maybe your relationship with him was comfortable, but not exciting, or that Das Sound Machine had made you think things that, until you'd met them, you hadn't thought.
And here you thought that a capella was only for sexually-confused boys. Not girls.
Slowly, Chloe broke away, mouth in a small smile and eyes shining. You lick your lips, tasting the remnants of liquor and chapstick as you watch Chloe's eyes follow the movement.
And then she's gasping and apologising and turning away and you're way to drunk and confused and turned on (really, Beca? Is now the time?) to chase after her, so you watch her as she disappears into the crowd.
It takes you ten minutes and a giant coffee from an all-night turkish restaurant down the road from your hotel to work up the courage (and sobriety) to face her.
Because Chloe is your best friend. Your best friend who likes you. The one who has, actually, already seen you naked and who likes you and who kissed you.
And maybe you want to kiss her, too. But properly, none of this "imma surprise you" shit.
She's your best friend. She likes you more than that.
Perhaps… perhaps you do, too.
And that's something worth exploring, worth talking about, at the very least.
