A/N: Random scene that snowballed into something a lot bigger. Hope you all like it!

Game-cation

"We should play a game," Jesse says, leafing through a pile of CDs. Not missing a beat, Beca continues to sort through her pile and returns, "No."

"Come on, it would make the time pass."

"I'm not playing some stupid game," she says.

"How do you know it'll be stupid?" he asks.

"I'll give you one guess," she returns sarcastically, scanning the tracks on the back of a Wings album. She doesn't see anything good and puts it one top of one of the many organized piles.

"Are you saying I come up with stupid games?"

"You wanted to play I-spy yesterday," she reminds him with the same level of disdain she displayed when he first suggested the game.

"I stand by that recommendation," he says. "I-spy is a great game. It's a classic."

"It's stupid. And should only be played as an absolute last resort on long car rides."

"Last resort?"

"Yeah. No iPod. Broken radio or one of those stretches of road where all you get is static."

"You're underestimating the game. And for the record, that's not what I was going to suggest."

She glances over at him and asks, "What were you going to suggest then?"

"I'm not going to tell you now," he answers. "You've shown where you stand on my game-picking-ability. I don't know if my fragile gaming-ego can take another blow."

She snorts and says, "I think your gaming-ego will be just fine."

"You know, you could choose the game," Jesse suggests with feigned nonchalance.

"Sure, how about a game called silence?"

Jesse considers it for a moment and then says, "I don't think that's a real thing."

"Really? What makes you think that?"

He grins wide, the corners of his eyes crinkling a little. He looks young when he smiles – like a little kid opening presents on Christmas morning. Beca finds it more endearing than she'd ever admit.

Jesse returns to his work and picks up an album, scanning the tracks on the back before putting it in a small pile that she'd noticed he'd begun at the beginning of the shift.

"What're you doing?" she asks, curiosity getting the best of her.

"What am I doing? Well, you see, this is called sorting through CDs. You've actually been doing it for the past three weeks."

She gives him a look and says, "I know that. I mean what are you doing putting all those CDs to the side like that? I can read the titles from here and if that's your idea of sorting, we may need to re-teach you the alphabet."

"It's my gift pile."

"Your gift pile?" she repeats slowly. "Why do you have a gift pile?"

"Beca, think about that question for more than two seconds and you'll have your answer."

She notices the top CD on the pile and says, "What poor guy is getting Paul McCartney's Memory Almost Full? Spoiler alert, they're going to be disappointed when they open it up."

"I think you meant poor woman," Jesse corrects. "It's for my mom. She's a big Paul McCartney fan. And before you say anything further, yes, she is even for this album. And it's not that bad."

"Not that bad?" Beca returns incredulously. "On a scale of bad to awful, that CD is just around your car getting stuck in a blizzard with no heat, food or bottles to pee in."

"Do girls pee in bottles? I don't think that's anatomically possible."

"My point is that that album is awful."

"Yes," Jesse says, nodding slowly. "I got that from the whole broken-down-in-a-blizzard scenario you painted. And might I add, you painted the scene well. Lots of vivid imagery there."

She senses his sarcasm and says, "Fine, I'll back off. But you should look through some of the albums here. There's a pretty good McCartney collection."

"Hold on," Jesse says, "Are you saying that you spy a banging McCartney collection?"

"Stop trying to make I-spy happen," she throws back. "But hypothetically speaking, yes I do. And it is 100 times better than that sorry excuse for an album."

"You have strong feelings on this," he says with a smirk. "Who would've known that subpar McCartney albums would bring out such a fiery side? And by the way, I-spy has already happened. I hear it's very big among the 7-12 year old crowd."

She snorts, shaking her head. "And you honestly still wonder why I don't want to play it?"

"Hey, don't hate on the demographic. Pretty sure Operation is geared toward them, too, and that's a fantastic game." She stares at him blankly and he says, "Please tell me you've played Operation."

She screws her mouth to the side and shakes her head slightly as she gives a no-I-haven't-played shrug.

"This is just unacceptable," Jesse says. He takes a deep breath and says, "I guess a game-cation will have to be added along with the movie-cation. You busy tonight? Because we have our work cut out for ourselves."

"You do realize that you are planning all of these "-cations" without my input."

"Well, yeah. You'd say no otherwise."

She laughs. "At least you're not deluded."

They continue their CD sorting with the usual repartee as Jesse discovers more basic childhood games that she hadn't played. He gets more disturbed by each omission and nearly knocks over an entire sorted stack when she tells him she's never played The Game of Life. That night he shows up at her dorm room with pizza and two board games boxes shoved under his arm.

"You weren't kidding about this," she says, letting him pass.

"I never kid about board games."

They spend the night playing Candyland and Operation, and she can't tell if her having fun is due to the games or just him. He plays the games with attentiveness that she finds largely unnecessary, but she can't help but smile when he tries to remove the Operation dude's spleen, focus entirely on the small little hole as he tries to keep a steady hand. She purposely plays sloppily, enjoying the exasperation he shows every time she presses the tongs to the side of the hole.

"I think it's safe to say you're not going to be a surgeon," he says after she hits the edge again, taking the tongs from her.

She hides her smile and says, "Well, thank you for clearing that up for me."

"Now me, on the other hand." He dips the tongs carefully into the little grove that holds the liver and pulls it out without hitting the sides. "Hands of a surgeon."

"Too bad you lack all the other parts."

He grins. "Don't be hating now just because you have shaky hands."

She licks her lips, giving him a look. "Give me the tongs."

"Fiesty."

"Tongs, Jesse. Now."

He hands them over and she gives him a look before leaning over the most difficult piece and effortlessly removing it. She glances back up at him with a triumphant grin.

"Not bad," he acquiesces. "Could be a fluke, though."

"Fluke my ass. I just liked watching you get upset when I'd hit the edge."

"I did not get upset."

"Yeah, you sort of did," she counters. "You'd get all exasperated and shake your head at my poor motor skills." She laughs at the look he gives her and tacks on, "It was sort of cute."

From the look on his face she can see that he never expected her to equate anything involving him as cute, and she has to admit that she never really thought she would either. Even using the word cute is sort of outside her general lexicon, but she can think of no other way to describe his behavior.

He's looking at her now. He's always looking at her – at the CD shop or when they hang out – but this time it's different. She doesn't quite know where to place the feeling that his eyes thoughtfully studying her face stirs in her, but she would guess somewhere between mild curiosity and discomfort. Despite an overwhelming urge to stand up and begin babbling – anything to break up the moment - she finds herself wanting to know what happens next.

And she knows. She knows when he shifts his weight and when he slowly leans toward her, his hand finding the back of her neck as he guides her mouth to his. She starts to pull back but then his mouth is on hers and she finds her body going completely still. His lips are soft and the scent of skin makes thinking difficult. Thankfully, she doesn't have much need for thought at the moment. It's instinct that makes her lean forward, hand pressing heavily on his leg as she seeks some stability in the racing of her pulse. His other hand finds her waist and she can feel the heat of his palm through the thin material of her shirt. She scoots forward and she's nearly straddling him, all thought and reason completely out of her grasp as he drags his lips down to her neck. She presses even closer and he shifts beneath her, his foot ramming into the game board. It buzzes loudly and the moment is broken. They pull apart and she falls back onto her hands, scooting back.

"Beca-"

"This-this never happened," she says quickly, dragging the back of her hand against her mouth. She stands up shakily and continued with, "This should not have happened. It-"

"Beca, you can't be serious," he says, standing up quickly to follow her.

"This shouldn't have happened. I mean, what are we playing at? This is ridiculous. This-"

He moves forward and takes a hold of her face, covering her mouth with his. She's taken by surprise, but her lips move against his instinctually. He's still kissing her but her mind comes back full-force and she takes a hold of his wrists, pushing him away.

"Beca-"

"We shouldn't be doing this! We…no. We just can't. I can't."

"Can you honestly say that felt wrong?" he demands. "Tell me, can you say that felt wrong or ridiculous?"

She doesn't answer because the answer is no. It felt wonderful and exhilarating. It was something completely crazy and everything that she didn't know how to handle. He moves forward hesitantly, waiting to see if she would step away. When she doesn't he comes closer, placing his hands gently on her waist.

"I'm not good at this," she says, avoiding his gaze. "I…I don't know how to do this."

"Not exactly a Casanova myself," he returns. "Come on, Beca, give this a chance. Give me a chance."

She thinks his words over as they stand there, neither of them speaking. Give him a chance. She's never given anyone a chance. It's always been easier to just push them away and move on. Less pain in the long run. Less chance of disappointment. But then she's back at that kiss and she thinks that there'd be a lot less of that, too. Less movie-cations. Less Jesse.

"Okay," she says, lifting her chin to meet his gaze.

"Okay?"

She nods, reaching up and drawing his face to hers. Against his mouth she murmurs, "Okay."

A/N: Schmoopy to the max. I have no regrets.

Also, I want to put it out there that I'm open to requests for scenes/scenarios. Either leave them in your review or PM me and I'll give them a go!