Sunday, March 18, 2012

Two days later, Jesse comes over to drop off the baby. She notices the dark circles under his eyes and raises an eyebrow. She waits for some sort of explanation, but he fails to give her one.

"I'm here to drop off Satan's kid to Satan herself."

She snorts and takes the eight pound doll, pinching his upper arm before doing so. "Rough night?"

He blinks and rubs at them, nodding glumly. "She woke up at least ten times, and I'm not even exaggerating."

"I'm sure you aren't," she pouts with a playful glint in her eyes. "Thanks for dropping her off."

He playfully glares at her, pursing his lips before replying. "Well, seeing as you didn't answer any of my calls or texts..."

"What?" she steps back into her house, drops the doll onto the couch and grabs her phone, rushing back to the door frame upon which he was leaning on. She sees the four missed calls and twenty messages, almost all of which were from him. "Damn. Sorry, dude," she apologizes, frowning.

"You're gonna have to make this up to me, you know," he says matter-of-factly, spreading his arms out, inviting her over for a hug. She backs away from him slowly, but somehow he's caught her wrapped in his arms, with her tiny fists beating at his chest and her face glowing as she let's out a couple laughs. He holds onto her as she continues fighting against his body, wriggling when he tightens his hold on her tiny frame. And for that one second, she forgets that he's Jesse and she's Beca and that what was happening was weird.

It's after she breathes in a mixture of his house and cologne when she's transported back into reality. "I don't owe you shit after what happened on Friday!" She pants, managing to untangle herself from his limbs after putting in extra effort.

He grins. "Well, okay, you're right. I guess we're even." They awkwardly stand there, in the middle of her doorway, as if just now soaking in what just happened.

"So... Um," Beca starts, clearing her throat. However, she's interrupted by a sizzling sound coming from behind her. Their heads whip back to the noise, and Beca swears loudly before running to her kitchen. The pot of rice she had left in boiling water had overflowed and spilled right onto her stove, leaving the surface a hot, murky mess. "Dammit, now I have to clean this shit up," she groans, turning the stove off.

"Becs? You alright in there?" he pokes his head into the kitchen, trying not to smirk at her failed attempt as he inspects the mess closer. "How do you mess up rice?"

"I don't fucking cook, okay? I order take-out or eat week-old leftovers. Didn't I tell you this?" she snaps. She notices he's shoeless, again, having inviting himself into her house.

"You did. I see why, now," he nods to the boiled-over mess, his lips twitching at the corners to keep from smiling. "Do you need help?" He goes in to take the wooden spoon from her, but she dodges him.

She glares and keeps the hot spoon to her body, avoiding the steam rising from the wood. "Thanks for the offer, but I am very capable of making food."

He shrugs, putting his arms up in surrender. "What are you making, anyways?"

"Not anything in particular. I kinda just found whatever was left in the kitchen and decided to make a meal out of it," she says, pointing to the minuscule pile of food on the counter. There was a can of chili and a tray of chicken, as well as a stalk of celery and a jar of peanut butter.

"Can I at least open the can of chili?" he asks, grinning as she rolls her eyes and nods. After shuffling around for a can opener, he opens the can and into a pot, taking his spot next to the petite brunette.

Her eyebrows go up as he begins to stir the chili on the burner. "Who invited you into my kitchen, anyway? Aren't you supposed to be somewhere?"

"You invited me. I was kinda inclined to come in when you started yelling crude words to an inanimate object. You worry me," he jokes, only to receive a smack to the chest. "And no, not really. Just avoiding the mountain of homework waiting for me at home."

Once she finishes cleaning up the dirty burner, she throws the rag into the sink and washes her hands. "Weird, I didn't know you were the procrastinating type," she pauses for a brief second to turn off the faucet, looking at the puzzled look on Jesse's face before continuing. "You know, since you're a nerd and all."

The realization dawns on his face, with a roll of the eyes replacing the previous confusion. "Don't stereotype me. You're just as much of a nerd as I am somewhere in there." He pokes her in the chest, making her frown. "Badass Beca Mitchell has caged the massive nerd inside of her and it must be let free. It's another one of my missions, you know, second only to operation movication."

"Good luck with that," she snorts, shoving past him to reach the pot of rice. She scoops a small spoonful of the grains into her mouth, grimacing at the sound of her teeth grinding onto the uncooked rice. "Alright, if you're the iron chef you claim to be, then fix this," she shoves a spoonful into his mouth, taking him completely by surprise, as he was absorbed in stirring the chili.

The spoon hits his front teeth hard and he's forced to open his mouth entirely, taking in the rice unwillingly. His first reaction was to spit it out, as it was inedible and unpleasant to chew. Instead, the mixture of spit and uncooked grain dribbled down his chin, making a very disgusting beard.

He wipes it off with the back of his wrist and smears it on her nose, making her shriek. "Dude! That was in your mouth," she yells, dodging the wretched mixture as he aims for her cheek this time around. Snickering, he turns around and wipes his face and wrist off in the sink, turning off the stove before doing so. She uses her hip to shove him out of the way, and he retaliates with one back.

"I guess you're gonna have to settle for lunch without your rice," he shrugs, wiping his hands on the dishcloth tucked over the fake drawer. "At least you'll have this world-class chili with your chicken."

She shakes her head, smirking. "Practically homemade."

After Beca grills the chicken, she takes the pot and scoops the chili onto her plate next to the white meat. Jesse breaks off a piece of the celery to garnish it, grinning at the finished product. He leans over the counter with his elbows flat against the granite, eagerly waiting for her first bite. She rolls her eyes at his enthusiasm and forks the food into her mouth, chewing lightly. She swallows it, drops the fork, and reaches for her phone.

"Could you hand me that stack of takeout menus in that basket right next to you?" She asks, pointing to the basket hanging from the wall.

He hands her the menus."What?! It can't be that bad." He takes the fork and tries some himself, struggling to swallow the dry chicken down his throat. The chili stings his tongue and he immediately spits it out into a paper towel. "Well, the chili's not horrible... And the chicken's just a bit dry."

"I didn't know canned products could ever go bad... I just made the impossible, possible," she sighs. "At least the chicken's edible. We can reuse it to put on a pizza or something or in pasta or something."

She decides on fettuccine alfredo with broccoli and mushrooms for herself. She nudges him for his choice, but he refuses and says that he's already eaten. She ignores him and orders a medium pizza for them to share while he's out getting Ellie to shut up. By the time he returns, she's done ordering the food and is in the middle of tearing up the chicken into small bits to put in her pasta.

They lounge lazily in the living room when their food arrives, both eating in comfortable silence despite his initial refusal to the pizza. He allows her to pick the movie this time, even though he never actually told her. It was like she knew that they were going to end up watching movies, almost instinctively. She clicks through the list of movie titles on Netflix before settling on My Girl.

"Let me guess. This girl," she points to the picture of Vada's smiling face on the screen before moving onto Thomas J's face, "falls in love with this boy. He's probably some loser kid and she stands up for him and they live happily ever after until they're old and wrinkly and suffering from thinning hair and brittle bones."

"Uhh," his forehead wrinkles as he stares at her, "not quite."

By the time the end credits start rolling, he's shed a tear or two. Beca, on the other hand, was trying to pull herself together. Her head's hidden behind a couch cushion, big enough to conceal most of her curled up body, but he still notices her sniffling.

He blinks.

Who knew a movie like My Girl could break the indestructible Beca Mitchell?

A sense of pride (for himself) mixed with sympathy (for her) surges inside of him, but for the sake of her fragile mindset at the moment, he decides not to heckle her. That'll be saved for another day. For blackmail purposes.

"So," he clears his throat, making her peek from behind her cushion shield. "Did you like the movie?"

"Fuck you," she croaks, throwing her cushion straight at his face. He catches it just a beat before it hits his face and notices the tear stains on the light fabric. "That was awful."

"Do you want some water?"

She glares at him but nods, and he chucks his water bottle to her. She takes a large gulp, collecting herself emotionally. "If you ever bring this up in the future, I'm cutting off your dick."

He frowns at her threat, covering his crotch with the cushion. "Got it."

She throws the bottle back to him. She manages a small smirk, returning to her old self in a matter of seconds.

"You know, Becs," he starts, but his mind drifts elsewhere. Both of their eyes dart to the front door at the sound of keys jiggling through the keyhole.

"Shit." Beca's eyes widen and she scrambles for her phone to check the time.

The door flies open a few seconds later and in comes Mrs. Mitchell, fully dressed in her flight attendant uniform and armed with several bags. She says a few curses out loud as she kicks off her shoes before noticing the two teenagers in her living room.

"You look surprised to see me," she raises her eyebrows at her daughter.

"Well, yeah. You weren't supposed to come in until eleven and it's three."

"Lucky for you the plane landed early! Now," she scampers over to Jesse, "is this the Jesse you were talking about, Beca?" She extends her arm out for him to shake, but instead she pulls him off the couch and into a hug. He gives Beca a look over her mother's shoulder. She shrugs.

"Er, yeah."

"I'm Jesse Swanson. It's nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Mitchell," he smiles politely once she let's go.

"I wish I could've met you earlier... My job's a hard one," she sighs, plopping down next to her daughter.
"So, how's it going? What are you guys up to?"

Ellie the fake baby starts to wail. Perfect timing.

Beca takes it, scans her bracelet, and sticks the bottle into its mouth. Luckily it shuts up almost immediately.

Mrs. Mitchell stares at the doll, confused. "What in the world is that?!"

"Our health project. Her name's Ellie." He says, his gaze falling to the doll on Beca's lap.

"If you had bothered to answer my Skype calls you'd have known that," Beca rolls her eyes at her mother playfully.

"Sorry honey. I've just been so busy..."

"I was kidding. I didn't call you anyways," she snorts, waving off her mom's attempt to pinch her.

Ms. Mitchell rolls her eyes. "I raised the perfect daughter."

"Really?" Jesse asks, smirking. Beca flips him off and he snickers. "You are perfectly perfect."

The older woman looks at her daughter and Jesse curiously. She's never seen Beca develop a friendship so quickly, even more so after witnessing her daughter not make a single friend after Chloe had graduated. She could tell by the looks of things that the two were fairly comfortable with each other, albeit the minimal interaction since she got there. Over the past few months she's noticed Beca's change in attitude. Normally a closed person, Beca's become a lot more open, and lighthearted. However, she was still the crude, sarcastic, and snide young lady everyone knew she was. It was a welcoming change to the Mitchell household, and it seemed that Jesse was the source of it.

"Well, I better get going. It was nice meeting you, Ms. Mitchell." He flashes both of them a smile, his gaze lingering on Beca's.

Her eyes were still a bit red from crying, which made the blue in her eyes darken. "Bye, Jess. See you tomorrow."

Once he's out the door, her mother turns towards her. It was Beca's turn to stare at her curiously. The look on her face looked a lot like she had something to say, and Beca wasn't sure she wanted to hear it.

"Yes?"

"So, that's Jesse?"

"Mom, it's not like that."

"No, actually, Beca, he's not too bad. I'm impressed, although I'd think he was a little... I don't know, not your type? He's cute though, especially those eyes of his."

"You haven't even known him a full five minutes! And aren't you the world's most renowned man hater? I was expecting a lecture or at the very least a warning. Even if we aren't together," Beca snaps, emphasizing her last sentence.

Her mother frowns. "You want a lecture?" She places her hands on her hips, clearing her throat dramatically. Beca rolls her eyes and sits back, arms crossed. "Being best friends with a boy never works out, unless one of you are gay. And unless you're in the closet and you haven't told me about it yet, you two will most definitely develop feelings for each other, especially with all the chemistry you two have."

"First of all, he's not my best friend. Second, I'm not gay. You watch too many movies with the same cliché plot. You're being stereotypical. And ridiculous."

"But I'm not, Beca! Believe me when I say that I was just like you when I met your dad. I thought we'd work out being just best friends, but somehow he won my heart unintentionally."

"And fucking broke it," Beca mumbles under her breath, ignoring the death glare her mother was giving her.

"Yeah okay, you're right there. I never said they end in happily ever after. But still, the feelings were there. Whether you like it or not, the platonic love will turn into romantic love in at least one of you."

"Not gonna happen. He's staying on East Coast for college, and I'm moving to LA. Our friendship won't even last until that 'stage of love' or whatever it is that you believe." She rolls her eyes, hoping to conceal the fact that what her mother had just said was half-true. He's always had a little crush on her, it was obvious. It didn't bother her because she knew he would never cross that line. He would never jeopardize their friendship over a crush she was sure would pass over with time. And for that, she was grateful. "Since when were you so interested in my," she pauses to carefully word her next string of words, "nonexistent love life?"

"I can't ask about your love life?"

"Which doesn't exist," Beca points out quickly, which her mother brushes off in reply.

"Well, it doesn't hurt to talk about..."

She stares at her mother, who was now looking away from her and at her nails. "Spit it out," she urges, knowing exactly that her mother was desperate to say something.

"I'm seeing someone."

Beca doesn't bat an eyelash. "Okay? You're always seeing someone."

"This one's different, Beca!"

"And how so?"

Her mother was staring at her now. "You make it sound like I'm a whore or something." Beca chooses to stay quiet, annoying her mother. "His name is Allen. I met him in Spain."

Beca's about to mouth off her mother, but Ms. Mitchell leaves no room for a pause. "Before you jump to any stupid conclusions, he is from New York. He owns a couple of businesses in the Northeast, and he was on vacation for a week visiting a friend."

"Good for him?"

"Beca! I actually really like this man, give him a chance. Quit being so harsh. He'll be over for dinner tonight, so please, be nice to him."

She wasn't usually the one who spoiled her mother's relationships (mind her, it was almost always her mother's fault), so she didn't quite know why her mother was telling her this. In all honesty, she doesn't care; he'll leave before long anyways. They never stay, and Beca was perfectly fine with it. After awhile, that is.


Before the guy comes, Beca's cooped up in her room, tirelessly working on a new mix. She's frowning, and her forehead creased as her eyebrows came together in frustration. The mix didn't sound quite right, There was something off about the entire thing, but she wasn't sure what. Even with her vocals, it wasn't clicking. She doesn't hear when the doorbell rings with her headphones in the way, and it's not until her mother barges into her room with an impatient look on her face and a silk blouse hanging off her body until she realizes that it was 7:45 in the evening, the exact time he was supposed to be there.

Her mom forces her down the stairs and into the living room. "Be nice." She warns as they descend the stairs, slowly revealing a man, maybe around his early 40's, dressed in slacks and a cotton button down waiting at the front door. He approaches Beca with a hand extended out for her to shake, a friendly smile on his face. She takes it, wincing at the strength of his firm hold.

"You must be the wonderful Beca. I'm Allen."

"Nice to meet you." She replies, releasing his hand in the process. Like all the guys her mother pounces on, he's good-looking, tall, but unusually friendly, unlike many of the others. He follows her mother to the dining room, where her mother forces her to stay at the table with him while she adds the finishing touches to her food.

"So, Beca, how's school? Senior year, right?" She's surprised to hear him ask her that, especially since the 'others' don't particularly try to care. "It's good, I guess."

"Any hard classes?"

"Not really."

"Oh, well, what do you like to do in your free time?" She opens her mouth to reply when her mother comes swooping in with the baked chicken, interrupting her. "My Beca wants to produce music, I swear she'll be the next Danny Guetta."

"David Guetta, mom." While she was just a bit clueless about the music producing world, her mother supported Beca's goal of becoming a DJ, which was a large reason why she preferred her over her dad, who aspired her to be anything but a DJ.

Allen nods approvingly, yet surprising her again. "That's great! You know, I actually know him."

She tries to contain her shock and raises an eyebrow. "You know David Guetta?"

He nods. "He's an old friend. I could try to get him to listen to some of your tracks, get his opinion, yeah?"

She finally cracks a smile. "That'd be awesome! Kind of frightening, but awesome." She could get used to this Allen guy. He wasn't too shabby. Certainly not a first class asshole that her mother usually found on one of her flights.

They chat for awhile, mostly about Spain and how amazing it was. Beca tries to keep up with the conversation, but can't help but think of that mix. Her fingers were twitching to adjust the various faders on her mixer and headphones around her head. She lazily chews her food, zoning out of the conversation easily.

But from what she's managed to pay attention to so far (which was very little), she's come to the conclusion that Allen wasn't awful. It was weird, because usually at this point she could tell whether the guy was gonna end up staying for a while or whether he'd leave the next day. With Allen, she had no idea.

"Beca, your... your thing is crying," her mother says tersely, her head in the direction of Ellie's wailing. Shaking her out of space, she heads to the stupid doll and takes care of it in her bedroom. While she's handling the doll, she glances at the damned mix and decides to play it one more time around. She scowls as she plays around with it once more, only to achieve absolutely nothing.

With a frustrated huff, Beca leaves her room, Ellie the fake baby in the crook of her arm, and seats herself back at the table. The green bean casserole on her plate was cold now, which made it much less appetizing than it already had been. She picks at the squishy green fragments, occasionally sticking one in her mouth. Allen and her mother laugh about something about airline food. Beca sits quietly, racking her brain on what could possibly be missing from her mix that would make it perfect.

"Beca? Did you hear me?" Her mother snaps her out of her senses, forcing her to actually pay attention. She shakes her head sluggishly, giving her mother a shrug.

Her mother sighs. "I asked if you'd like to come with us tomorrow to the jazz festival in New York."

"Can't. I made plans with Jesse..." she says, hoping to dig herself out before it was too late. She was only half-lying, though. Dinner with Allen for a night was enough for her for the rest of the week.

"He can come, too. There are going to be world-famous pianists and saxophonists, Beca! It'll be fun, I promise."

"Mom, no. We're gonna be busy... You know, projects and stuff," she makes up, really hoping her mom would just drop it. "Thanks for the offer, though."

Her mother frowns but drops it, much to Beca's relief. She and Allen chat about the musicians and their pieces, which sparks an idea into her head. She finishes up the last of the green beans on her plate and excuses herself, grabbing a cupcake before rushing to her bedroom. She takes her headphones and gets to work layering different piano tracks, growing more unsatisfied as she rules out more and more pieces. With a defeated groan, she slumps back into her chair, rubbing her temples as a string of curse words roll off her tongue. She glares at the pile of unfinished homework, as if she was scaring the responsibility away. Much to her dismay, it stays there, crinkled and bent at the top where it stuck out of her notebook, mocking her. She looks closely at the page on top, noticing the 'name' line already filled out, which she had no memory of, since she had yet to start it.

It read, "Beca 'Doofus' Mitchell". He even dotted the 'i' with a smiley face.

Dork.

Her mouth quirks at the corners, shaking her head at the sight of his handwriting. Luckily, the dork had enough decency to write it in pencil, so she erases the marks and stares at the worksheet again. She flips her pencil over, writes her name down where she had just erased it, and starts the first problem of the calculus worksheet. She stares at it, already confused at the first problem, before deciding to copy off Amy the next day. She shoves the paper back into her notebook and takes out another.

"Beca 'Weirdo' Mitchell" was written at the top of the page, again in Jesse's messy penmanship. She frowns, this time unamused, and flips through the rest of the pile, realizing that every single paper had her name, along with some variation of one of their nicknames for each other, written on the 'name' line in his handwriting.

And as if he wasn't being annoying enough, her phone buzzes with his stupid name lighting the screen.

To: Beca
From: Jesse

Do wah diddy, diddy, dum diddy doo.

She rolls her eyes and grabs her phone from her desk and clicks on the attachment link of a video of Thomas J and Vada singing before typing out a reply.

From: Beca
To: Jesse

Really? Too soon, Jess. I can't believe you, you insensitive asshole.

To: Beca
From: Jesse

Ouch.. You wound me with your words, Rebeca.

To: Jesse
From: Beca

How many times have I told you not to call me that?

To: Beca
From: Jesse

Right. Sorry doofus.

She laughs out loud and exits her messages to send him a snapchat of her flipping him off with her best poker face. He sends her one of him singing Doo Wah Diddy, so she sends another one of her unamused face, and another of her name written in his handwriting.

To: Beca
From: Jesse

What?! You didn't like my voice? I sound like an angel... Weirdo ;)

To: Jesse
From: Beca

Thanks for wasting my time erasing your horrible handwriting. Also for making me listen to your awful voice.

To: Beca
From: Jesse

No problem.

She receives another snapchat a couple of minutes later. He was playing the song again, this time on the piano.

To: Beca
From: Jesse

You better appreciate the fact that I just recorded that using my teeth to hold my phone. I'm multi-talented!

To: Jesse
From: Beca

Did you just learn that?!

To: Beca
From: Jesse

Nope, I learned that when I was 12. I'm pretty impressive, right?

To: Jesse
From: Beca

You just keep thinking that..

She smirks and tosses her phone onto her bed, ignoring his next string of messages. Her mind drifts back to her unfinished mix, so she takes her laptop back onto her lap and presses "play", not bothering to plug headphones in. The music blares out of her speaker as she chews on her lip, concentrating on the flow of the tracks blending together. Her eyes dart to her phone, which wouldn't stop buzzing, and suddenly a lightbulb flashes in her head. She pauses the track and grabs her phone, going straight to her messages to check what Jesse was up to.

To: Beca
From: Jesse

Ha, I know! I'm AMAZING!

Beca?

Becs?

Are you okay?

BECA!

BECA! BECAW! BECA! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!

ARE YOU ALIVE?

Fine, I guess I'll find out whether you're alive or dead by tomorrow.

(JK, you're probably busy, and I'm probably being super annoying, so...)

Damn, Ellie must be being a giant pain in the ass right now...

Well goodnight! I hope you're alive! I'm going to bed now, you should do the same :)

She checks the time and sees that it was only 10:30. She let's out a snort and shakes her head, figuring that it was the nerd's bedtime. A second later she realizes that now she had to wait until tomorrow to ask him to do her a favor, which disappoints her. With a frown, she attempts her homework, trying her hardest to keep her mind away from the mix and focused on the sheet of paper in front of her. She gives up soon after, choosing to take his advice to get some early slumber. The sooner she could ask him the favor, the better, and if sleep was the way to go, then so be it.


A/N-

Man, has it really been over half a year since I updated this fic?! I'm sorry, guys! I've been pretty busy and have been plagued with writer's block. I refuse to give up on this story, so don't fear! I actually practically rewrote this entire chapter, so yeah, there's another reason why it's been taking so long... Sorry about that. I'm planning some big things for the next chapter!

Whenever I lack motivation, I look at your reviews and it gives me an extra push to keep chugging out words, so thanks to all who take their time to review this story! It means a lot!