Beca hated mornings.
She didn't particularly enjoy waking up to bright rays of sunlight streaming through her windows, leaving her temporarily blind and incapacitated each morning; nor did she enjoy inhaling the funky morning breath wafting out of her mouth. If those things weren't bad enough, then the small pool of drool dampening her pillow and her crust-ridden eyes definitely took the cake. She also hated the groggy feeling that accompanied her half-awake state, as well as the tightness of her muscles and the fogginess of her mind. It felt as if mornings were made to make humans—specifically her—downright miserable.
In Beca's opinion, mornings were evil and had no redeeming qualities. If it were up to her, mornings wouldn't exist. If she could skip right over the morning and go straight to noon, she would and, on most days, she could. But, unfortunately, staying in bed until noon wasn't an option; not when her hot new roommate wanted to explore their neighborhood on this fine, unbelievably bright morning.
Letting out a loud yawn and stretching out her tight limbs, Beca forced herself to roll out of bed. She rolled off of her mattress ungracefully and landed on her feet unsteadily, rubbing her closed fist against her half-opened eyes. She stumbled her way through her bedroom, grabbed her towel, blindly opened her room door, and walked out into the dimly lit hallway—grateful to have less light shining in her eyes.
Her vision eventually adjusted to the dim lighting of the hallway as she made her way to the bathroom and entered the room without knocking. Oblivious to the presence of the currently nude German woman standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Beca begun pulling off her sleep-shirt, stopping mid-way when a voice startled her out of her task.
"I guess knocking isn't something Americans do very often, huh?" Beca heard a heavily accented voice say breathily, a husky chuckle escaping their throat. She quickly opened her eyes, then, snapping her attention in the direction of the voice. Soon after, she closed her eyes again, having already caught an eyeful of naked German perfection.
"Dude! I'm so sorry! I had no clue you were in here!" Beca exclaimed loudly, her voice increasing a few decibels too high. The blonde smirked at her, not bothering to cover herself up, and chuckled at the mortified woman.
"It is okay, Beca; we're both girls here. What I have is nothing you haven't seen before," Kommissar stated calmly, a glint of mischief shining in her eyes. Beca slowly opened one eye, subtly taking in every inch of the other woman's body; from her round, perky breaks, to her toned, rock-hard abs, to her narrow hips, and her—
Well, let's just say the blonde was very well-kempt and in very great shape.
Well, that's a lie, roomie. I'm sure I've never seen a body this perfect before, Beca thought to herself.
"I, um, I guess I'll let you finish up in here," Beca said politely, quickly exiting the bathroom before her blonde roommate could get another word in.
Once outside of the bathroom, Beca sagged against her room door, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, and her neck and forehead sweating profusely. She felt absolutely mortified. If her roommate didn't already see her as an awkward dork, then she definitely did now. Not that Beca should be surprised. She's never been particularly smooth when placed around beautiful, confident women. She was often left tongue-tied, physically immobile, and a sweaty mess when engaged in a conversation with an incredibly attractive woman.
Kommissar definitely fell into that category.
She'd known the blonde for weeks now, having met her through mutual friends, and was immediately drawn to her. It wasn't so much the woman's looks that drew her in, but her intelligence and strong presence. Kommissar was definitely a sight for sore eyes, but she was so much more than just another pretty face. She was articulate, knowledgeable, and an overall charming human being. She knew how to make you feel important and at ease, but at the drop of a hat, she could also make you feel uneasy and intimidated. She knew how to flip her presence from friendly and inviting, to intimidating and professional.
The fact that Beca had been able to communicate verbally with Kommissar thus far—without any unfortunate mishaps—was definitely a miracle. After what occurred a few moments prior, however, Beca was sure that it was a miracle too-good-to-be-true. All good things must come to an end, she supposed.
Hearing the bathroom door creak open, Beca straightened up her stance and focused her attention on the ground, careful not to make eye contact with the blonde.
"The bathroom is all yours," she heard the blonde say, a smile coating the other woman's voice.
She mumbled a quick thanks to the blonde, careful to avoid her eyes, and made her way into the bathroom. If there was one thing she needed right now, it was a cold shower.
And maybe a beer. Beer made everything better. But, as of right now, a cold shower would have to do.
The trials and tribulations of having a hot roommate.
"This is delicious," moaned Kommissar obnoxiously, licking her spoon seductively while sending Beca a playful wink.
Beca clenched her thighs together and kept her attention focused on the sticky, granite table the pair were sitting at. She was careful not to catch her new roommate's eye as the woman made love to her frozen yogurt.
The two women spent the entire day exploring the large, L.A. area, walking in and out of different bodegas and exploring the different shops and parks the area had to offer. Beca wasn't much for exploring, but even she had to admit that the day had been a lot more enjoyable than expected. She almost didn't mind getting up at the ass crack of dawn for it.
Almost.
"You're melting," the blonde inquired, snapping Beca out of her thoughts.
"What?" the brunette asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Your frozen yogurt. It's melting."
Beca's attention fell to the small cup of frozen yogurt clutched in her hands, the white, creamy liquid dripping off the sides of the cup, and onto her hand. She groaned pitifully as the cold, sticky substance dripped onto her skin and reached across the table to pull a few napkins out of the napkin dispenser. Kommissar beat her to the action, however, grabbing a handful of napkins and dabbing the papery substance against her sticky skin.
"I could do it," Beca argued weakly, snapping her mouth shut when Kommissar waved her off.
"Let me."
Beca let her.
Beca watched as the blonde carefully wiped off her hand, as well as the edges of her frozen yogurt cup. She wiped off the sticky substance with care and Beca found it fascinating. She had no idea why she found it fascinating, but it probably had to do with the fact that she found everything Kommissar did to be fascinating.
"There," the blonde announced quietly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Finish up before it starts dripping again and then we can go home."
Beca willingly complied, scraping her spoon against the melted yogurt, and spooned the cold dessert into her mouth. She watched as Kommissar went back to her own frozen treat and nearly whimpered when the seductive licking and obnoxiously loud moaning resumed.
Returning to their apartment after a long day, the two women entered the spacious living room equally spent. Beca flopped down onto the couch, placing her feet atop the coffee table and leaned comfortably against the couch cushions. She found the television remote resting on the cushion beside her and flipped on the TV, turning the channel to one of those mindless reality programs.
She became so immersed in her show that she didn't notice the half-naked woman taking a seat beside her. It wasn't until she felt a dent in the couch that she turned her head, immediately catching sight of perfectly toned abs and bra-clad breasts.
In that moment, Beca knew that Kommissar would be the death of her.
She didn't think she'd make it through the next few months alive.