One more [quick] fanfic story before Pitch Perfect 2 premieres... It's actually a one shot, divided into parts... A little countdown...

THE WEDDING

"You may now kiss the bride."

And so the redhead is officially no longer a certain 'Miss Beale.' For the first stage of the marriage, she sure would bumptiously insist on everybody that she be referred to as "Mrs. DeGroft" much to the satisfaction of her pride and to the aggravation of the remainder of the human race.

On the last row, Beca Mitchell dutifully turns her head to the side; her girlfriend is clapping her hands together, this and accompanied by a genuine smile mechanically plastered on her lips, resembling the rest of the audience. For someone who strongly believes that nothing could last forever at least Chloe seems to be happy enough for her sister's lifetime achievement. This is as good as it gets.

"Blonde guy and pink lady."

Chloe pans over the crowd at the reception until she finds the couple who fits the particular description. "Two weeks."

"Two weeks?" the other has her jaw left hanging open in disbelief. "Two freaking weeks?"

"Look. Obviously a fling, baby. Just a fling."

"What about Kirk Douglas and Rihanna over there?"

"Six months and she'll realize it's just not worth the money."

Beca can't help but laugh at the serious note. "What if it's true love?"

"True love," her girlfriend scoffs as expected.

"Yeah. Like... Mr. and Mrs. DeGroft."

"Nah-uh," Chloe shakes her head and sips on her glass of wine. "We are not betting on my sister, Mitchell."

"Come on…" the brunette frowns upon the hypocrisy. "Honey, I know you've been dying to get it out of your system since the engagement party."

Busted, the bachelorette Beale finally lets out an anxious sigh and gives in to the challenge. "Fine. I will give them roughly a couple of years."

"'A couple of years...'" that trademark side smirk rather suggests some sort of amusement with a slight element of pleasant surprise. It's not the most appropriate reaction. It shouldn't be.

"What, Mitchell? Are you actually glad about the possibility that my sister would have to go through the excruciating process of divorce just after two years of marriage? That is so cruel!"

"Baby, of course not. I'm only glad about the fact that you actually believe they could make it to two years." Chloe has never predicted over six months, and it doesn't just happen. There has to be a valid reason behind this significant change of heart. Beca reaches for her girlfriend's hand and gives it a loving squeeze. "Where did your pessimism go, huh? I guess a few more time with me and we can level up your limit from 'a couple of years' to 'forever'."

Blushing, the redhead intertwines their fingers and meets the pair of dark blue orbs already fixed on her with full adoration. So maybe this is her flaw, the crevice to her iron wall of Nothing Lasts Forever - stupidly charming Beca Mitchell. Chloe manages to spare a smile and plant one sweet kiss on the lips patiently awaiting.

"You're awesome."

"And you're sleeping with me," the other points out the source of prejudice, earning herself a rolling pair of dark blue eyes and a guilty smug. "Oh I haven't thanked you yet for coming here with me."

"Really?" her plus-one jokingly plays innocent, pulling the redhead closer for her own good. "Well, a record producer like me doesn't come cheap so…"

"Somebody's about to get lucky."

And there goes the moment. Beca's giggling assistant seems to know when to kill the mood. Every freaking time. Nonetheless, Chloe waves hello and bites her lower lip to suppress a laugh. There's something about a seriously annoyed Beca Mitchell that's hilariously entertaining.

"Enjoying the party, Fat Amy?"

"Hell yeah! Thanks for inviting me, Chloe. Hawaii, baby!"

"She invited me, you had to tag along," Beca clarifies the unfortunate setup in a murmur then sighs because who cares at this point? "So what's the emergency?"

"Jay-Z wants to talk."

"That's not an emergency."

"Jay-Z wants to talk!"

"Not now."

"But can I talk to him while you're busy?"

"No."

"What about Beyoncé?"

"No."

"Blue Ivy? I'm really good at baby talk."

"You are not going to talk to anybody, alright?" But the slight nudge on the side coming from her date insinuates that the boss must have to be friendlier than that. Right, she's doing them a favor, so tO make it up somehow is a plate of cake slice especially for Fat Amy. "Here. Eat. Forget about your gym instructor for a moment, fuck him, and enjoy this, uh… I don't know, five layers of diabetes."

The dirty look from the redhead spells out Beca's failure at being nice. Fortunately, the assistant is too over the moon to accept food to even make interpretations. She's been starving since getting that gym membership!

"There you are," Mrs. DeGroft greets her sister with a hug. "You might succeed avoiding mom and dad the whole night, but face it, you're not getting away from me, sis."

"I'm only here for Hawaii."

"She's telling the truth," the younger redhead warns her husband before turning to her sister's plus-one for the wedding. "Marry her already, Mitchell. Restore this allergic-to-marriage freak's faith in good romance. I'm begging the hell out of you, for the love of God!"

Beca chuckles and shrugs. Marriage, romance - there's a difference.

"But seriously, when are you two getting married?" Mr. DeGroft presses on in support to his wife's advocacy. "You've been dating longer than we've been. It's only a matter of time now, isn't it?"

The choking sound coming from the side reminds everyone of Fat Amy's presence among the group. Boy, that's awkward. If only they knew.

"Are you alright?" asks the younger Beale.

Fat Amy can sink into the ground taking the hotseat. She must tell nothing. The setup is she goes wherever her boss goes. It doesn't mean that she has to be involved, however, when her mere presence is all that's required. Technically, she doesn't exist. She sees nothing, hears nothing, knows nothing. That's the agreement.

"Hey, guys!"

The newly weds are summoned by the other important wedding guests; the three are left relieved. Saved by the bell. Caught off guard, they jump a little at the sound of a ringing phone.

"Boss, emergency!" Fat Amy reports, in panic.

"Again, not now."

"Take it," the redhead gives it a go, smiling for reassurance. "It's alright."

"I promised you own me this weekend," insists Beca with a loving kiss. "Fat Amy, tell Jay-Z, whatever is his concern, I'll call him on Monday."

"But it's not Jay-Z…" the Australian accent trails off towards the end of the sentence. Should she even continue? They're all lovey dovey! But this is the job she has been assigned to. Thus, looking over from one girl to another, with great amount of apprehension, she speaks in a confidential whisper. "...It's your wife, boss."

Hi Mitchsen shippers! :)