talk me down

pt. 2: i wanna sleep next to you


The second style is the "I can't deal with you get out of my face" kind of fight. They go a little something like this:


Moving in was a natural progression.

When the lease is up at his apartment, Beca asks him to move in with her. It's the least she could do. It's not like it was weird or new or anything- Jesse already has a toothbrush and a drawer filled with his boxers and hoodies at her place, and he always leaves his favorite mug at her place, anyways. It's not a huge deal.

The first week or so living together is just them having amazing sex on their bed, or kitchen counter, or shower. For some reason, sharing things, even though it wasn't a new thing, turned them into raging, sex-crazed animals. It's fun calling it their bed, or kitchen, or shower, because, well, it's theirs.

Theirs.

Their bed. Their table. Their shower. Their fridge. Their couch. Their bathroom.

Their apartment.

Sharing wasn't a foreign concept. They've been together for far too long for it to be. It couldn't be that hard.

Well, that's what Beca thought.

Beca's screech, followed by a splash, is what wakes him up most nights. Then, there's the inevitable scream.

"JESSE!"

He'll come running to the bathroom, fully alert. He then finds her, ass plunged into the toilet, scowling.

His lips are twitching at the ends.

"How many fucking times do I have to tell you to put the toilet seat down?!" She yells irritably. "This is disgusting."

He helps her up and lets her clean herself up, with his face twitching and mouth pinched together the whole time.

"It literally takes one push of the finger to put the toilet seat down, why is that so hard?!" She complains, glaring at him.

He's usually really good at holding it together while she's going at her murder spree. But this time, he can't help it; he bursts into laughter, ignoring Beca's fury.

"You think this is funny?" Her nostrils flare, eyes practically glowing in rage. "You think this is funny?"

He shakes his head, still getting his giggles out. She trudges out of the bathroom and sleeps on the far end of her side of the bed for the rest of the night.


From then on out, she starts to realize the little things he does that irk her.

The fact that he can never decide on what to have for dinner.

The fact that she keeps finding his DVDs everywhere, and he's barely been there a month.

The fact that sometimes he uses her towel and when she goes to shower, her towel is all damp and gross.

The fact that he puts the toilet paper roll on the wrong way- It goes over, not under.

The fact that he forgets to tell her that there's no milk until after she pours the cereal into her bowl.

The fact that he never puts his dishes in the sink, and how, instead, he puts them beside it.

(C'mon, it's not that hard to move them three inches to the left, dude.)

And then, there's, or course, the reoccurring fucking toilet seat.


It's no wonder she explodes eventually.

It's about the umpteenth time that month she's fallen into the toilet bowl, and she's just about had it.

"That's. It." She huffs after cleaning herself up. It's still early in the night. Jesse's situated on his side of the bed, watching a movie on his laptop. She stomps out angrily and stops in front of Jesse, who gives her a confused look.

"What?"

"The toilet seat."

The look of realization dawns his face, and Beca almost feels bad for him. "Fuck, I'm sorry Becs. I promise it won't happen again."

"That's what you said last time," she scoffs, determined to hold her ground.

"Jeez, I'm sorry, okay? I swear I'll try to remember next time. You're overreacting," he counters, maybe sounding a little hostile.

She glares at him. "What? Overreacting? Me?"

He returns the glare, shutting the laptop angrily. "Yes, you."

She scowls. "You're such a dick."

"I'm being the dick?"

"God, you're so fucking annoying," she lets out an exasperated groan, feeling the rage boil in her blood. "You have the worst homely habits ever. It drives me god damn insane."

He gets up from his spot, and suddenly he's towering over her. "Are you being serious right now?"

"Yes!" She snaps. "Your stuff is everywhere. You never put the dishes in the sink. You're indecisive as hell when it comes to eating. You never put the toilet seat down. The list goes on!"

"If you're so annoyed of me living here, why'd you ask me to move in then?" He challenges.

She shrinks under his gaze, but she's not willing to give up so easily. "That's not the point."

He scoffs. "Okay then, Beca. I'll give you your fucking space."

And with that, he takes a pillow and a fleece throw and marches out of their room, slamming the door behind him.

She's left looking at the door, shaking with anger. She's sure her face is red, and instead of going after him, she shuts the lights off and lies down on their bed, eyes towards the ceiling, her heart going a mile a minute.


The bed is cold without him.

She tosses and turns on the sheets, struggling to find a comfortable position. She's still pissed, but her anger gradually simmers down. It's one in the morning, about two hours since their clash, and she's left with a gross, guilty feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Sure, all of his habits were, justifiably, annoying.

But maybe she should've talked to him about it, instead of, you know, imploding in front of him.

It's just that, discussing things like an actual, rational adult was scary. Beca's much better at using a sword than her words.

Consequently, she can't sleep. She's tired as hell, but she still can't seem to fall into the dream wasteland. As much as she doesn't want to admit, she's gotten used to Jesse at her side at night. She finds comfort in falling asleep with the soft thump of his heartbeat against her back.

At this point, it's her own annoying habit.

She sucks up her pride, wraps herself up in her duvet, and peeks out the hallway. She tiptoes into the living room, relieved to see him snoozing away on the couch with the pillow and throw he snatched earlier. She bites her lip, questioning her actions by cursing herself a billion different things in her mind. She groans to herself and grudgingly scampers to his side, snugly fitting at the edge of the couch. She closes her eyes, drapes the duvet over their bodies, and attempts to sleep.

He stirs, feeling the small of her back push against his. He awakens almost immediately, being the light sleeper that he is, and sits up from his spot, rubbing his eyes, blearily looking at Beca's tiny form.

"What the..."

"Shh," she shushes, resting uncomfortably at the edge of the couch. "Don't you dare say anything."

He falls back asleep with a smug smile on his face.


A/N- This was a prompt sent in by the lovely youandmetryingtofindthelight on Tumblr.