Here we are! A bit of a storybuilding chapter here, getting into some of Beca's psyches ;) Next chapter we'll be looking at Chloe, and don't worry, there will be some friendly collegiate petting sessions soon enough! Let me know your thoughts!


The morning finds Beca early, and bright. The unfortunate consequence of falling asleep and forgetting to pull her blinds shut the evening before; the only window in the room-turned-attic that happens to be exactly at her bed level. She has many woes; this is one of them.

And then there's Chloe; back to the window, thus blocking out a gracious- what Beca would estimate- seventy five percent of the light. Her mouth ajar, amidst an extreme black-out sleep that only follows a trip down ultra-faded lane. However, the red-head's bed hogging quality is something that Beca had forgotten. No matter how kind, how selfless of a person someone may be during waking hours, that rule no longer applies once they fall asleep. Even the most charitable people turn into sprawling-across-as-much-of-the-bed-as-they-can, white-knuckling-the-blankets-into-only-themselves little bastards. Hence, Chloe. Across from her, in REM Sleep mode, somehow acquiring most of Beca's covers on the side of the bed she was inhabiting, and taking up as much space as she possibly could.

With a grimace, Beca tentatively readjusts her hands against the mattress; attempting to leverage herself up with the least amount of movement against the bed as possible. Swinging one leg out from under her, dropping it to the floor, and then proceeding with the next, she re-evaluates the bed scene from a new angle; she'd been forced into a sliver of space all night long. And, while the thumping in the back of her temples is no more, nor are her cramps- thank God- there's a stiffness in her neck that could only be accomplished by sleeping on it unnaturally.

Exhaling through her nose, she plucks the remaining food items and phone she had left on her night stand into her arms, and advances towards the staircase. Past Amy's bed which is- oh sweet irony- empty.

The silence in the Bella house, even downstairs, informs her that she's the only one awake. A rare occurence. Assuming, however, that she only has the energy to get up and function at this time of the morning because she spent half of yesterday asleep, and another quarter of it resting. Her first official act of the morning is to start the coffee. Pressing the button down on the top of the brewing machine, the little blue light alerting her that it needs to be cleaned. It's been on for the last three days, but no one has bothered to do it yet, and today wouldn't be the day Beca decides to.

As the grinder comes to life within it, Beca turns away from the machine, grabbing her phone in her hands instead. Pressing the top button down until the screen starts up, Beca sets it back down as she hovers towards the cupboards with the mugs, the thoughts and responsibilities of today beginning to whir themselves conscious inside her mind. On Friday's she only had one class, at one o'clock, and then she had to be at Residual Heat by three thirty. Which, of course, was top secret; after the Bella's misadventures with Muff-Gate, Beca simply didn't have the energy in her to break it to the group of girls. And it wasn't as if she was purposefully avoiding it- there just hadn't been a right time. Between the stress of DSM, and the need to compete for World's, the year just wasn't off to a good start. And while there was a tickling, persistent itch of guilt between every crease of her brain, worming it's way into the grey matter as a palpable creature- Beca has no plans of admitting it anytime soon.
So, okay, yeah; maybe she was avoiding it. Actively. But, it was for the good of the others. That's justifiable, right? Her loyalty thus far has been completely unwavering, generally stoic, if not sometimes a little bit misguided. And she couldn't just ignore the impending graduation date. She had to get her act together. Take herself seriously, or, as seriously as she could. Hell, Chloe had urged her on more than one occasion to just "give yourself a chance!" with sometimes, a vigorous shake of the shoulders for emphasis. So, that's what she was doing. Or trying to do.

Mostly, Beca sort of felt like she was sticking her head into an oven, but that's okay. She's getting there. Maybe.

Her phone vibrating to life on the counter snaps her out of her reverie, and she returns to it, mug in hand. The little messaging icon signals her to a whopping forty seven missed text messages; thirty eight from Jesse, one from Chloe, five from Amy, and three from Stacie.

"Jesus," She mutters to herself, opening each chain, vaguely checking each one to make sure nothing stuck out as urgent- which, of course, none did.

Opening the chain from Jesse last- which, by the end of which had deteriorated into nothing more than whiny spam.

unamused, Beca taps out a message;

I hear one of you Treble's is dating a High Note.

She sends it, watching as the green bubble floats up into the message chain- the feeling of dissatisfaction like a rock in the bottom of her gut.

And you poisoned some of my Bella's.

Better.

The coffee pot clicks off automatically, and Beca abandons her phone in favour of the caffeine. Anyways, considering it wasn't even quite eight o'clock yet, Beca could assume the guy wouldn't be up for a while yet. Knowing Jesse, he's hungover with his head under his pillow, and he will remain that way until about twenty five minutes before his first class. Just enough time for him to have a brisk, cold shower, throw on some sweatpants and a dorky T-Shirt, and grab a granola bar for the road.

"Coffee?" Beca jumps at the sudden sound of a voice, just about dropping the pot just as quickly as she grasped it.

With a bit of a squeak, she reels around to face the unannounced perpetrator in the kitchen; Jessica. Looking dishevelled and in a moderately rough condition, although, she was composed well. Beca lets out a puff of air from her cheeks, turning back to her mug, "Yeah,"

Pouring the brew, she see's the blonde moving towards the mug cupboard in her periphery. "Thank God," The girl mutters, shuffling beside her. Nonchalantly, Beca hands her the pot.

"How was the party?" Reaching for the sugar, Beca opens up the mason jar, using the spoon inside it to scoop up a small amount, before dropping it into her the mug and stirring. Beside her, Jessica sets the pot back onto the machine, letting out a small grunt, "Good. Well," At that, she throws Beca a conspicuous look from the side of her eye, one eyebrow furrowing inwards uncertainly. Beca could tell it was the 'I don't know if you heard' look. Jessica had always had the good sense to be bashful about things that some of the other girls were more brazen about. Beca catches the look with a singular nod, "The pot brownies?" She assumes, one hand coming to rest on the arm of the fridge.

Jessica grabs the sugar spoon, sliding the jar towards herself, "Yeah," She says slowly, throwing Beca a pained look over her shoulder.

"Was Chloe not the only one who made a mistake last night?" Her heart sings at the first opportunity to tease the redhead, albeit without her knowledge, about her unfortunate situation. And though her tone is serious, she's being just as playful towards the blonde. As she pulls the milk from the fridge, she hears Jessica snort in amusement, "No. Not me, but," The girl sighs heavily, dumping her third spoonful into her coffee, before whirling the drink around with it, "Let's just say I had to lead a gaggle of girls back here."

Beca feels her mouth fall open, "Like who?"

By some universal cue, a certain redhead appears around the doorframe of the kitchen. Nose scrunched up against the morning light, and her hair tussled, yet still, Beca feels both a pang of admiration and envy when she still somehow manages to look like she hasn't missed a day of her vitamins since she was born. Beca, she assumes, must look like a troll in comparison.

Ignoring that little flutter of a thought, Beca places one hand against her hip and observes the girl without even attempting to reign in her smirk. "Oh, hello, you," And she makes sure it's sickeningly casual. Chloe's sleep-addled gaze back at her reveals nothing other than utter confusion. In fact, she actually kind of looks like she has just risen from the dead, only to wander back into the Bella household with no recollection of who she was, or who they all were.

Other than that last bit, Beca can guess that it must be a pretty similar feeling to what Chloe was actually experiencing.

"Hi," She responds, blue eyes darting back and forth between the two women before her. After that moment seems to stretch out, as both Jessica and Beca stare her down with varying degrees of mirth at her expense, the redhead clears her throat, "How was your guys' night?" At least Beca can give her (pot?) brownie points for trying to scoot around the topic.

Raising a solitary eyebrow, Beca turns back to her coffee, uncapping the jug of milk with a pointed kind of nonchalance that she hopes make Chloe squirm.

Because Beca can trust that the redhead must obviously sense something askew- it was hard to say just how much memory the other girl had of the previous evening, but if waking up in Beca's room with little to no recollection how she got there wasn't enough to tip her off, Beca would make sure she pointed that out. The best way to do that? Utter, belligerent, good-old-fashioned smug rubbing it in one's face. "Well, mine was fine," Beca sighs, adding a dash of the milk to her coffee before offering it to Jessica, who takes it with a sly grin of her own. "But then," She adds, grasping the mug in her palms and spinning on heel to observe the other woman again. Chloe remains in the doorway, a small frown creasing across her face, as she can so clearly see the direction this is going. "Funny thing, though, one of the Bella's- who shall remain nameless," Beca raises one hand up, mocking a vow of pledged silence, "Comes stumbling up to my bedroom."

Chloe doesn't often blush. She can flirt- with mind boggling ease and brashness- and remain completely unswayed. She can make a heaping fool of herself- both when she's inebriated and sober, whether it be busting a move in an inopportune public setting, or singing purposefully off key for the sake of a few laughs. She can even confidently preform a task, and have it metaphorically- and at one time literally- blow up in her face, and Chloe Beale will take it with grace.

But sometimes, very rarely, she will blush- it's often the result of something she had done while drunk that she was later informed about. See; nursing a tequila bottle while on the floor of the Bella's kitchen, for more details.

This is one of those moments and Beca laps it up like a stray cat. It's there, just barely, but the tiny pink hue is more than enough for Beca. She takes a moment to bite down on her bottom lip in order to stop her smile from spreading over her cheeks, gather herself. Behind her, Jessica shifts back towards the fridge, returning the milk to it's proper shelf. Straightening up, Beca sighs again, for nothing more than dramatic effect. "So, I, being of sound mind, assisted said Bella with getting into bed and staying out of trouble, because," She emphasizes the last word, holding one finger out in front of her, indicating for her audience to give her a moment. Chloe blows air out of her lips, head dropping to the floor shamefully; the very image of a puppy that knows it has done wrong and is now being chastised for it. Beca blows over the hot coffee, before taking a miniscule sip, preparing herself for the final punchline of the story. "Said Bella was currently cross-faded out of this world."

Chloe wrinkles her nose at that, nodding more to herself than to either of the other girls in the kitchen. Now that Beca was finished mildly mortifying the other girl, she lets the smile sneak out, soaking up the moment.

"I remember," Chloe starts, shaking her head now, "Those stupid brownies,"

"You weren't alone," Jessica consoles, although not without her voice still thick with amusement. "About a third of you guys had one before anybody clued in,"

"Which brings me back to my earlier question," Beca swivels her head to look at the blonde, just as Chloe finds the ability to walk again and brushes past her on the way to the kettle. "Who?"

Jessica sighs, sticking her free hand into a fist in front of her, individually releasing a finger as she recites. "Chloe," Giving the girl a sidelong glance, and the redhead acknowledges it with a sheepish peek over her shoulder, "Stacie, Amy, and Flo."

Beca wonders if it's some sort of pattern that the ones who are hardest to control once intoxicated were also the ones prone to stuffing their face with chocolatey sweets the moment they laid their eyes on them. She feels like there must be some sort of connection there, which she considers pointing out, before simply nodding her head with nothing more than a thoughtful hum. "Well," She says, pausing with her mug in front of her mouth, "Did anyone throw up?"

Because she's been to parties- she's even been to more than one questionable shindig in her lifespan. Although, every one of those situations had occurred during her highschool career; but, whatever. She knew enough to know that mixing your poisons has a high chance of not ending well- she'd seen it first hand.

Jessica purses her lips, shaking her head, "Nope. Thank God."

Beca shrugs, given the odds, that was pretty impressive. "Job well done, then,"


The afternoon meandered by lazily. By the time she had completed her class of the day, she was beginning to feel some of her energy draining from her body. And by the time she had parked outside of Residual Heat, Beca decided she may need to make another coffee for herself; just as a pick-me-up. Usually, she didn't like having more than one in a day; she was prone to getting the shakes if she accidentally over-caffinates herself, but, she supposed today could be an exception.

After all, she'd be spending the next five hours being a snack-donkey, which wasn't hard work, but it was a bit mentally vexing. But, as she scrubbed toilets between her rounds, she reminded herself that this is what it takes to start getting your foot in the door. Beca Mitchell didn't make it this far to be discouraged because only one person maybe sort of knew her name, and her nightly tasks consisted of brewing hipster forms of coffee, delivering Cheeto bags, and replacing paper towel rolls. She could deal with that. She could wait for her opening. It isn't going to be this forever, she chanted to herself, cleaning that shelf in the fridge that always had sriracha spilled over it. Like, always. She could probably check again in another hour and the stain would be steadily building, making this a bit of a fruitless effort, but it had to be done.

It's about two hours into her shift before Beca hides away in one of the bathroom stalls. After taking another round between the desks, making sure none of the people actually doing work needed any snack replacements or anything.

Huffing, she puts the lid down on the toilet, taking a seat atop of it and fishing her phone from her back pocket. Ever since her second day, she'd kept her phone on Do Not Disturb mode during her hours here. This was borne after witnessing Sammy lose his mind when Dax's phone had vibrated during one of his speeches. And Beca, being intimidated by people who are, you know, her boss, had thanked whoever above might be listening that it hadn't been her, and vowed to keep her phone completely silent from that day on. She's pretty sure had it been her, Sammy would have fired her on the spot. Which would be pretty humiliating considering Sammy definitely didn't even know her name.

So, she'd also resigned that she would keep the phone out of sight, just in case. Which is why she's currently squirrelled away in a stall to check her messages.

She checks her chain with Jesse first.

Becaw

can u do me a big favour and buy me some milk after work? I will pay u back 3

nvm Benji got some

Becawwww Chloe called me askin where u are. had 2 improvise and say u were in the shower

Not good. It confronts her with the fact that she couldn't hide this forever, and she had to start planning an announcement, or something.

Scratching the bridge of her nose as she considers how to respond, Beca lets the thumb on her free hand hover over the screen for a few moments.

thanks. I'm working on it.

It felt like there was a big, obvious void in her words. Like some unknown entity was snickering at her, crowing about how Beca isn't doing crap to work on it. Which is true, mostly. But she was working on working on it, so she hits send anyway. Next, she opens up her chain with Chloe, where an additional two messages are waiting for her.

Becs where are you? :)

If you're at Jesse's let me know! We're heading to the pumpkin place in a while to pick up those seasonal necessities ;) And I know you wanna come.

It was a tease, because, Chloe knows, that Beca hates participating in anything festive for Halloween; or even Christmas, for that matter. But every year, the Bella's still managed to sucker her in for their annual pumpkin picking tradition. Where Chloe spearheads a group of them into stuffing their cars full of the things- like, seriously, close to a hundred dollars worth- and from October first until thirty first, the Bella's spend their time carving out Jack O' Lanterns to sit around their front yard.

There's a lot of things the Bella's are good at. And, one of those things, is their inability to tone down their holiday spirit. Around Halloween, Beca could at least sulk with Cynthia Rose and Ashley, the only other two not overly enthused by the holiday. Christmas, however, was a different story.

Running her tongue over her bottom lip, she considers not even replying; later, when questioned, she could just claim her phone died. No harm in that. Despite the fact that lying to Chloe made her stomach turn on itself, and keeping the internship a secret was bad enough. But the idea of ignoring and lying to Chloe made her feel like she ought to be wearing a big neon sign on her head that read 'World's Biggest Jerk'. Complete with bells and whistles.

So, after staring at those messages for a long moment, she lets a heavy exhale out through her nose.

Sorry, Chlo. Can't make it tonight.

And then, with what felt like physical pain, she added;

Make sure you grab me one, k?

It had to do. For now. But as she watched the bubbles send, her stomach rocked back and forth uneasily. By habit, she slides her phone safely back into her pocket, and flicks out her wrists a few times, as though it would somehow clear the lingering residue of guilt from her thoughts- as if the phone had actually burned her. Burned her with the dirty feeling of lying. Just as quickly, however, Beca realizes what she's doing and stills herself, straightening her back instead and balling her hands into fists. It was a nervous tick of hers; the movement of her wrists. Beca didn't enjoy letting herself get away with them because, naturally, people would begin to pick up on them. If Jesse- or Chloe, for that matter- were here right now they'd probably be eyeing her hands quizzically, before turning that look to bore a hole right through Beca. And, since those looks always made Beca feel like she wanted to dig herself a grave and then bury herself alive, she tried to suppress such habits. Which was actually, most likely counterproductive, because she would just form a different one in it's place. By now, she probably has more nervous ticks than a junkie. And every single one planted a target on her for receiving one of said looks.


Beca pulled into the Bella house to find, unsurprisingly, a dump of various pumpkins scattered over the front doorsteps and lawn. The girls had outdone themselves- again. She took a moment to regard them, with a resigned sort of dissonance that only Halloween brought her. She wanted to be happy about it. She wanted to enjoy the holiday season, like any semi-normal person, and be festive and find a joy in stabbing a pumpkin repeatedly until a face-like image appeared on it, like a semi-normal person. Or less than, but, it was totally cool because it was Halloween, right? Anyway. She wanted to be somewhat sort of excited about it, at the very least.

But she wasn't. Instead, pictures of pumpkins glowing with spooky frights brought her nothing but a resentful heaviness that appeared first in her temples, and then somewhere deep within her chest. And Beca hated that just as much. She was never much of a person for letting go- hell, she could probably recall every slight upwards of third grade if she tried hard enough- but she wished she could. Because maybe then she could function a little bit better. Wouldn't be so tense. Maybe then, she could resort back to the childhood version of herself who was excited for Halloween; the kid who spent the season with her head in the Tupperware bins that were full of old costumes and fake spiderwebs. That kid was excited for Halloween. That kid got candy on Halloween.

Who was she now?

She definitely wouldn't be getting candy if she showed up on the majority of people's doorsteps, that's for sure. Which is a bummer all in itself.

It takes a little bit longer than normal to enter the house; partly because she was trying to avoid accidentally, or not so accidentally, kicking a pumpkin on her journey to the front door. And partly because she was mentally preparing herself for the questions about how Jesse's had been, or what she'd done; just, basically formulate a semi-coherent lie and escape to her bedroom before she could get caught in it. No biggie. She's done it a few times now, but every time it made her gut twist like some evil little creature, let's say a goblin, what the hell- was in the base of her stomach, punching her intestines until she felt nauseous. And yeah, she knows that's most likely anatomically incorrect, but, whatever.
Inhaling deeply through her nose, Beca pushes open the front door- thankful that the kitchen is currently unresided. However, from the living room, she could definitely make out a tune, and the voices of Amy and Chloe singing to it. She takes a moment to hang up her coat and keys in the foyer, before continuing onwards, allowing the sound to pull her feet in its direction.
The scene that greets her involves Stacie sitting on the arm of the couch, cheering, while Flo and Cynthia Rose occupy the space on the sofa, dancing on the spot and clapping along with the tune being played. There are several boxes haphazardly placed throughout the room, all labelled 'Halloween'. Amy and Chloe, however, are on their feet, backs to her, holding microphones inches from their respective faces and belting out the words of The Spice Girls' Stop, while two poorly animated characters on the television screen confirmed Beca's deepest fears.
They had found the Wii karaoke Beca had braved the basement to hide last year.

"What am I looking at?" Allowing the strap of her bag to slip through her fingers, Beca sighs. While the two performing pay her no mind, the three situated on the couch shift their attention towards their captain. Stacies purses her lips, folding two long, nimble arms over her bust, "There's the culprit," She crows, giving Beca an outrageously disgusted once-over that manages to genuinely ruffle the shorter girls feathers. Beca's eyebrows hike towards her hairline; it was very clear, and unbelievable, how the rediscovery of a Wii game had broken some kind of trust they had established here. "Excuse me?" She reprimands, shooting the brunette the dirtiest of her glares.

The song comes to an end, as Chloe and Amy's on-screen characters finish their duet, and a just as poorly animated Simon Cowell, Britney Spears, and some third commentator begin their dissection of the concert. Amy, looking winded, collapses in the armchair while Chloe turns on heel, the permanently content look on her face observing Beca before bursting into a smile, "Becs, you're home,"

"And being insulted," She throws an accusatory finger in Stacie's direction, who only rolls her eyes in return.

Chloe tuts lightly, baby blues darting between the two girls, as her fingers tap out an unheard rhythm against the base of the microphone she now held tucked against her stomach. "Well, Beca," She starts, roving her eyes back in Beca's direction and holding her there, "We know you hid Karaoke Star in the basement,"

Affronted, despite the statement's truth, Beca inhales sharply, "I did not."

Chloe tips her chin downwards, an entirely unconvinced glint behind her eyes, "Really?"

Breaking eye contact, Beca feels a flush rise in her cheeks, as she attempts to look anywhere but at the quiet judge across from her. The redhead had a very special skill- one of many, actually- that could be summed up by her superior social skills. Something that made confession an inevitability instead of a struggle. As if lying to her, in any way, shape, or form, was an utmost sin. This was even despite Beca's admittedly stubborn pride.

Said pride in her chest trickles out slightly, before she manages to shoot the girl a weak glower from the corner of her eye. "Okay," She admits, causing the room to erupt in a chorus of hums and huhs- all of which gloating with the sound of "I knew it". Fumbling, Beca adds quickly, "It was for the good of the Bella's!"

"Is that so?" Cynthia Rose's husky voice cuts through the room, and Beca baulks at her next.

"Yes, actually," Beca grips around the strap of her bag more, itching to leave the room, "Because if I was forced to partake or listen to it for a day longer, I would have lost my mind,"

"Trial by song," Amy hollers from her seat on the armchair- looking very much like an evil dictator observing her peasants. She then adds to that image by pulling her arm back, and tossing the microphone she held in her hands at Beca's feet. With an objection, Beca steps away from it, feeling downright assaulted here in her own home. She vaguely catches Chloe scold Amy for throwing their Wii equipment around all willy-nilly, before the redhead bends to collect the microphone from the carpet.

Unconcerned, Amy throws her arms out at her sides, "Do we not agree?"

"I agree," Cynthia Rose voices, followed by Stacie's firm, but smug, "Me too." Beside them, Flo simply nods, as though she isn't entirely sure what was transgressing or why the others were so mad about it, but she didn't want to be on the receiving end of the Bella hate-fire that Beca was currently being scorched with.

Chloe tips her head towards Beca, a devious smirk playing against her features, "Looks like the jury has spoken." Throwing a wink in there, too, as if she hadn't already been rubbing it in enough.

"Why is this happening to me?" Beca throws her arms across her chest, refusing to take the microphone from Chloe's hands as she offers it to her.

"Because," The redhead's voice is stern, as she reaches out to take Beca's hand in the few free fingers she had, "You made a bad decision and now you must deal with the consequences," And gently transfers the microphone within her own palm, guiding Beca's fingers around the base of the stupid thing. Fate: Sealed.
It was mutiny, if she'd ever seen it.

"Unbelievable," She voices testily, clutching the faux stage equipment in her hands. There wasn't enough time to throw a look that could possibly portray the amount of distaste she currently felt for each girl currently occupying the same space. Instead, she scans the room around her, searching for a way out. But some rational, experienced part of her brain reminds her that any which way she chooses to run, the outcome was more than likely to be a football tackle into the carpet. And that was not necessarily something Beca wants to relive.

Chloe hums approvingly, grabbing the regular Wii remote from the coffee table and scrolling through the possible song list. "Any suggestions?" She quips, casting a look over her shoulder at the girls assembled. Beca makes sure to put on her best scowl when Chloe's blues meet her own, and the redheaded little devil just grins in response.

"Make her sing Allstar by Smashmouth," Amy puts in, leaning forwards in the armchair. Spinning on heel, Beca, feeling more personally attacked than ever, flips the Tasmanian the bird. Behind her, Stacie catcalls, and she turns said offending appendage in the brunette's direction.

"Ouch," Stacie leans backwards slightly, "Why so vicious today, Becs?"

It was a legitimate question. While freshman Beca had been easy to lose her temper, over the years, senior Beca had grown more readily able to keep a lid on most outbursts. Actually, she'd managed to tame herself so much that half of the things that probably would have sent the younger version of herself over the deep-end no longer had that affect on her. Maybe it was because she'd grown accustomed to the girls around her- she'd forcibly had to work on her own social skills, what with living with a dozen or so girls, and somehow, the title of 'Captain' slapped on her chest. Or, co-captain, but, whatever.

The fact is, on a different occasion, she would have taken the medicine that was currently being handed to her with a moderate amount of grace. But it was October first; which meant things slid under her skin a little bit easier from here on out in the year. From the corner of her eye, Beca see's Chloe's face drop. The amusement slipping away into a frown of worry, which somehow only irks Beca further. Even though it shouldn't, and Beca knows that very well. The same way she knows eating chocolate past eleven pm will keep her awake a bit longer than she usually would be, but she eats it anyway- or the way almost anything by The Rolling Stones fills her with a truly astonishing momentary amount of rage, before she white knuckles herself down.

"I don't know!" She snaps back, averting her eyes from Chloe's pitiful peek in her direction and training on Stacie instead. At the tone, Stacie shrinks, and she watches as Cynthia Rose and Flo share an uncertain look between the two of them. "Can we get this over with? I'd like to go to my room, you know, take a shower,"

"I thought you showered at Jesse's?" Chloe queries; but the question is quick, and there is a thread of uncertainty in her voice. That inflection in her statement is something Beca catches onto immediately; when Chloe is sometimes taken aback, or suddenly and severely baffled by something, she had a tendency to inquire out loud. It was usually harmless, and to herself, but Beca still bristles- caught in the sticky tracks of her own lie.

And then Chloe is looking her over as though she's just now realizing how much Beca doesn't look like she showered. Because, you know, she hasn't.

"I-" Beca starts, feeling her heart race a bit faster under the look, "uh, whatever- I want to relax, and not be here, currently,"

It's a bit harsh.

Chloe pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, and Beca can almost see the kicked-puppy suddenly standing in the girls place. Clenching her jaw, Beca casts her eyes downwards. The carpet was a much better place to train her eyes than on the girl across from her, because that would mean she would have to acknowledge the fact that she totally just hurt Chloe's feelings a little bit. Which she hates. Whenever she lashes out, she hardly ever means to. But, Jesse had once compared her to a cornered pygmy ferret when she gets mad; which she had at first deemed as very rude, and Jesse had gotten an earful for correlating her with a stinky rodent. He had just laughed, though. And, the more Beca thought about it, the more reputable the comparison became. It was true. Whenever she did act out, she could pretty much envision being poked at with a stick through the slits in her poorly-constructed metal cage that was supposed to be protecting her.

"Allstar by Smashmouth it is," Amy concludes, her voice cutting through the silence that had so tensely settled over the room. Beca nods, mustering the strength to calm that inopportune ferret squealing somewhere within her psyches.

"Yeah," It's quiet, but she agrees regardless; the hand not currently holding the microphone jerking outwards in an uncomfortable half-gesture half-nervous-wreck-movement in Chloe's direction, "Put it on, maestro,"


It's just over an hour following her departure from the living room, where she had finished her punishment while pouting, giving a bow, and handing the mic back to Chloe. They might have played one more round before departing; the mood a little bit soiled after Beca's less than friendly encounter. But, Amy was at least providing her some space by not coming up to the shared bedroom, which Beca could at least appreciate because she did, indeed, need some alone time to re-centre herself.

At first, she'd opened up her laptop and fastened the oversize headphones atop her head. She wasn't working on a Bella mix, though, instead just something to store away in a folder of other randoms. But the sounds felt sporadic, and she'd given up not twenty minutes later- her frustration finally overwhelming her enough to close the screen of the computer with more force than necessary. Wincing, she unplugs the headphones from the jack of the computer and replaces it into her phone, shuffling her music library as she relocates back to her bed. Where she lay now, her blood pressure finally lowering enough for her to begin to feel sleepy, lost in a sea of sound, when her phone vibrates against her stomach.

Opening one eye, she inspects the phone, debating whether or not to even bother checking. But, it's probably only around eight thirty, so disturbing her sleepiness is for the best. Sitting up against her bed-frame, Beca takes a moment to rub the sleep from the corner of her eyes before turning the phone over in her hands and checking her messages.

Chloe's name sits boldly on the top of her queue.

Hey Grumplestiltskin ;)

She narrows her eyes at the screen.

hey yourself, High Roller

Because what was the point of soaking up moments like the one the night before if she couldn't relentlessly bug the other girl with it?

The response is almost immediate.

That was an accident :(

Beca feels the grin pulling at the corners of her mouth, even over the phone she could see the miffed little pout the other girl must be sporting at being called out.

but was it really?

Of course it was!

With her free hand, Beca absently grabs her lip between her thumb and forefinger. Texting was usually a safe space. Beca can articulate better, think her words through for once, not stutter.

mhmm, okay. I'm not really buying it, but sure

You shit.

At that, Beca exhales a bit of laughter- you know, the true equivalent of LOL'ing. The follow up message jumps onto screen before Beca can respond, however.

Can I come up?

She straightens a little, staring at the request blankly. Of course Chloe could; aside from their shower encounter all those years ago, Beca rarely found herself minding when the other girl invaded her personal space. What was stopping Beca, though, was that she was unsure whether Chloe was going to treat her to some mushy conversation about the time of the year. But, declining the request would probably come off even more worrisome to the older girl than an awkward console session that consisted of Chloe being kind and lovely and, Beca, stiff as a board, being totally unresponsive.

are you going to try to fight me for making fun of you?

Jokes, Beca has found over the years, are always a great for diffusing situations.

Try? Becs, I think we both know that I would kick you're cute little butt ;)

Insulted, Beca scowls at that- although, it was true. If there was ever a wager between the Bellas on which member of Bhloe would come out of the brawl victorious, Beca could bet- begrudgingly- that everyone's money would be on Chloe. Except, maybe, Chloe herself; she'd bet on Beca mostly because she felt bad. She'd probably say something about loving a good underdog story. And Cynthia Rose, because she just doesn't roll that way anymore.

Blinking, she shakes her head of that fabrication- ashamed that she was even a little bit entertained by the idea. Seriously, what was wrong with her?

don't be so cocky. i know you love an underdog story

A full thirty seconds pass before the reply comes in.

Touche. But that would mean I let you win ;)

offended.

The response to that comes in a flurry of kissy face emojis, hearts, and then a single strong arm finishing off the message. Beca rolls her eyes; she never knows how to respond when someone only sends a string of emojis. Those aren't words, after all. So, she turns off the screen and removes the headphones, choosing to sling them around her neck for now. Before it dawns on her.
I guess you can come up. I mean, you already barged in here last night without warning, so nothings really stopping you, is there?

Which, actually, reminds Beca that she ought to change her sheets. Cream cheese scum was probably plastered all over the bedspread. Which was aca-appalling, in all truth. Setting the phone against the night stand, she grimaces, hoisting herself upwards and immediately bunching the duvet into a ball and tossing it into a corner of the room. As she's reaching outwards for the pillow on the far side of the bed, the phone vibrates noisily where it sits.

:( Sorry Becs

With her free hand, Beca half-heartedly flings the pillow around- trying to wriggle it from it's case without having to put two hands into the effort. Raking her mind for an appropriate, playful response- albeit still milking the situation for all that it's worth- Beca furrows her brow at her screen, coming up short. Maybe she'd exceeded her quota about the topic for the day. Although, even she found that highly unlikely. But, to her disappointment, she was blanking.

"Hey,"

With a start, Beca whirls around- the very same redheaded offender who had arrived at the top of her stairs the evening before now reappearing. The jolt causes the pillow to fall from it's covers, and Chloe's blue eyes dart towards it momentarily, before meeting Beca's again with a small grin. "Sorry if I scared you,"

"Oh, uh," Catching her breath, Beca shakes her head, balling up the flimsy white pillowcase in her hands and tossing it in the same direction of the duvet, "No, no, you just, uh, startled me a little. I didn't hear you coming,"

Looking only mildly self-satisfied, Chloe drifts further into the bedroom; pulling Beca's desk chair out and spinning it around to face her, just as she reached for the remaining pillow. "I'll try to remember to announce myself from now on when I'm halfway up the stairs,"

Moving a hand to her chest, Beca feigns her ardent appreciation, "That's so considerate, Chlo,"

An airy laugh escapes the other girl, while Beca returns her focus on baring the pillow, which she had resigned to using both hands to do, now that she didn't really need to text. "Yeah," Chloe says, thoughtfully, "I wouldn't want to walk in on you naked or anything,"

"Dude," Beca Mitchell, unlike Chloe, has a penchant for blushing. She can usually feel it first in her ears, which is exactly the area she can feel warmth spreading to. It was something more than one of the Bella's enjoyed pulling from her; a blush. The more violently red they can make her, the better- the bunch of sadists they were. And Chloe, ever so triumphant, bats her lashes innocently at the brunette across from her. Beca glares, "We've already been there."

See; freshman year shower scene.

Chloe sighs, almost wistful. Chucking the second pillowcase to join the others, Beca quirks an eyebrow at the other girl- "Anybody home? Or are you thinking about infiltrating some poor freshman's shower?"

The redhead shoots her a rather reproving look in response, smoothing the legs of her pyjama sweatpants absently, "No. I was thinking," She says, one eyebrow rising in a silent challenge for Beca to poke fun at her again, "About how different things might be if I hadn't barged in on you in the showers,"

"Ah," Mushy. Not really Beca's forte. She'd be lying if she said it had never crossed her mind; not only for the Bellas as a whole, but herself individually-she didn't like to dwell on it. Honestly, it made her shifty. "Don't get all nostalgic on me, Beale,"

She turns at that, pulling a corner of her sheet out from between the mattress and the boxspring. Behind her, Chloe hums warmly. It isn't until Beca is on the third corner of the bed; prying the sheet out from the top corner against the wall, that the girl speaks again, "So, anyways, I have a question for you,"

Curious, Beca casts a look at the girl over her shoulder; finally working the sheet free, "A question?"

Chloe nods, her blue eyes sparking with excitement, "Yes."

"What is it?" Beca heads towards the final corner of the bed, the idea that Chloe may be about to inquire to whether or not she said or did anything particularly mortifying crossing her mind. To herself, Beca smirks; if that was the case, she should start thinking up some completely fake lines she could inform the other girl that she'd "said". Of course, she would tell Chloe immediately after that she was only kidding, and that nothing of that sort happened, because despite what some might think; Beca Mitchell wasn't a total asshat.

"Well," Chloe starts, sitting up straighter against the chair and promptly folding her hands across her knees, "My uncle has this thing,"

It was only a minor disappointment about the direction of conversation. Beca pulls the last corner off, and discards sheet into the pile with everything else, stooping down to scoop the two pillows from the floor. By the inflection of 'a thing' and the mention of a family member, Beca found herself not super stoked about where Chloe was taking her here.

"And, I have been cordially invited to it, being that it is in Atlanta and therefore, not far from here,"

"Naturally," Beca breezed, now sitting back onto the mattress, hugging the pillows to her chest. The girl across from her throws a sly smile her way, "Obviously. But I haven't seen my uncle Brian since I was like," She screws up her face, calculating the age in her head, "Seven or eight, maybe. So- that's kind of weird,"

Beca nods, conceding to the idea that it may be a little bit odd for the two of them to meet again after all this time. Chloe goes on, "My dad really wants me to go, though. I'm never going to hear the end of it if I don't,"

This time, when Beca nods, it's borne from the understanding of family expectations. Which, she really hated. So she could relate to the look of minor pain this situation appeared to be causing Chloe; considering the girl's brow was furrowed and her bottom lip jutted out the tiniest bit.

"And..?" Beca raised her eyebrows- not entirely sure if she had missed a key point in the conversation.

"I mean, I was hoping," Chloe uses her toes to inch forward in the chair, wheels sliding along the floor in Beca's direction. Her grin unabashedly growing as she did so, "You could come with me? So I'm not totally weirded out by all these distant relatives by myself?"

The suggestion pulls a scoff from Beca before she can stop herself. Using her thumb to gesture towards herself, the brunette laughs, "Dude, did you seriously just ask me that?" Chloe's expression falters at that, but the glint of challenge behind her eyes is not missed by Beca. "Chlo, you know I can barely handle family time with my own relatives,"

"Yeah, but," The other girl protested, scooting forwards again so that she could place her palms flat against Beca's knees- as though proximity would help her make her full affect. Which, actually, was a Chloe Beale thing to do. "They aren't your family. I just need some moral support,"

Half-heartedly, she narrows her eyes at the girl. Chloe bats her lashes in response, applying firm pressure around Beca's knees, as she whines, "Please, Beca? There will be free food, and wine,"

"Why not one of the other girls?" She could already feeling the willingness to refuse begin to crumble. And no, it wasn't because she was getting a little lost in the bright blues, but because arguing was probably going to turn out to be more effort than it's worth.

Chloe sighs, "I thought about that already. I'm worried Stacie would hit on my younger cousins, and Amy..." She trails off, and Beca blinks at the girl across from her, "Is a bull in a China Shop?" She finishes for her, pursing her lips together.

"Yeah. That."

It was, probably, in Chloe's best interest to bring Beca. While there was nothing wrong with Jessica or Ashley, or even Flo, as a companion, Beca knew the bond just wasn't close enough to be awkwardly propositioned to a family event. Not when Beca was available for an option, anyway. So, she kicked the idea around in her head a little; but it was hard to determine just how uncomfortable the affair could be. Chloe leaned back, still with her hands on Beca's knees however, "I can ask Jessica," She noted, eerily as though she had been reading Beca's mind. Yet, the words sent a jolt of guilt through Beca, for some reason, "Wait," Even though the redhead didn't appear to be going anywhere. Quietly, Chloe arched a single inquisitive brow, and Beca, who's arm was amidst being metaphorically twisted, took a moment to gather her thoughts. "What kind of thing is it?"

"Some company dinner party thing," The girl responded without missing a beat, "He works for some hoity-toity New York place."

Beca cringes, "Sounds fancy."

Chloe dismisses her concern with a wave of the hand, and Beca gives her a pointed look. Because dresses were not something she wanted to see in her near-future. "All you have to do-" Chloe reaches out then, prodding Beca on the end of her nose with a single finger. Provoked, Beca swats the appendage away and fixes the girl with a particularly icy glare, which she responds to with a light chuckle, "-Is sit there and look pretty."

Beca rolls her eyes so hard they nearly get lodged into the back of her skull. "Wow," She says dryly, "I've been reduced to a two-dimensional prop,"

"More like arm candy," Chloe quips back just as quickly. At the notion, Beca feels the heat rise in her cheeks again, and Chloe uses her hands against Beca's knees as leverage to push herself backwards. "So what do you say?"

It was with great personal pain, but it felt like a duty that came with the responsibility of friendship. Or something. And, hell, free wine and food? Beca could work with that. "When is it?" But she needed all the details first.

"November first."

"That's-?"

"A Monday." Chloe twirls around in the chair, readily able to meet all of the brunette's questions. It makes Beca wonder if the girl had rehearsed, or if she just knew Beca that well. "But who needs classes anyways?"

She gnaws her bottom lip. Sure, it was her senior year, and maybe Beca should be taking it seriously. On Mondays she had two classes, which would kind of suck, because that only meant more catch-up for her. And catch-up was never a game Beca liked to play, so she could admit to herself that the neglect of not doing so would probably cause her to stumble a bit in her studies.

But, it wasn't really like she cared about those classes, anyways. They didn't have anything to do with what she was interested in investing her future in.

"I guess I'll go," She mumbles, still feeling whole-heartedly defeated despite her lack of real debate. At that, however, Chloe lets out a high pitched sound that's somewhere between a gasp and a squeal of excitement, jumping to her feet. "Really?"

"I guess so," She shrugs, "Do I have to wear a dress?" That was the real concern here.

Chloe claps manically- a bit like a jubilant seal, actually- clearly thrilled that she had gotten through to the brunette. "Oh my goodness," She beams, "Thank you! And, no, we can find you something else,"

"You say that like you don't trust my ability to dress myself,"

"I do," The girl responds firmly, still appearing too relieved to really focus on playful banter. She began pacing, the pent up energy from her elation rolling off of her in waves, "But I want to help pick out your outfit."

Beca wrinkles her nose, reminded with a momentary distaste of being ten years old again and having her mother try to pick her outfits out for her, even though she was definitely too old for that charade. The feeling is quickly replaced, though, with a clenching feeling somewhere within her chest, which Beca promptly tried her best to squelch down. "Okay, sure. Whatever,"

Chloe pauses in her restless marching, casting a mischievous look at Beca over her shoulder. She then reroutes, coming straight for her and throwing her arms around neck in an klutzy half-hug. Due to the positioning of Beca's sitting body, and the redhead leaning down in order to embrace her- Beca grunts and tactfully cranes her head upwards to meet Chloe's shoulder, instead of being buried alive in boob. "It'll be fun, Becs," She promises into the brunette's shoulder, breath warm against the material of Beca's shirt, her hands running along Beca's back. Who had tensed at the contact. "We can get into all sorts of trouble to keep things interesting,"

"Uh-huh," Grumbling, Beca absently considers how long this hug was going to last, "Sounds like a great way for you to make an impression on the family you haven't seen in years,"

Chloe laughs, breaking away and holding Beca out at arms length, "Oh yeah," The girl disclosed with exaggerated conspiracy to her tone, "I have a few ideas in mind,"

"Don't get me in trouble!" She scolds, pointing a reprimanding finger at the redhead.

"Never!" Chloe gasps, pulling back. Beca eyes her skeptically, humming her disbelief at that. Chloe, much like a naughty child, had been in more than one situation in the past where she had- say, knocked a mug off of the display shelf at The Pottery Barn- and immediately responded by taking a step backwards and pointing at Beca.

After a few moments under Beca's withering glare, Chloe sighed contently, all but skipping towards the stairs, "And make sure you pack some dancing shoes," She comments idly, placing her hand on the railing, "You and I will be busting up that D-Floor,"

Groaning, Beca drops backwards onto the mattress. That promise alone was enough to get her to start kicking herself for not arguing more passionately about not attending. "Shit."