I apologise, truly, because I don't know how this chapter is going to down. I still don't even know if I like it, really. But yeah, I'm posting anyway, and going to go hide under a rock.


NEED YOU NOW (2)

"Beca, you have some serious explaining to do!"

She does not turn to face Stacie as her friend approaches her from behind. She keeps her eyes trained on the interaction at the other end of the busy bar at the even busier club. It's ridiculous, she knows, to watch her ex-boyfriend flirt with this overly-smiley blonde girl who had approached him ten minutes ago. Heart aching, she continues to torture herself because she can't seem to stop.

"Beca, you're staring, it's creepy." Stacie waves a hand in front of her face and Beca finally tears away her gaze. Stacie is standing in front of her, leaning against the bar, her eyebrows furrowed with worry. Flashing a weak smile, Beca lets the rest of her drink sting the back of her throat. She has long since forgotten her oath against drinking; Beca has never been that good at sticking to them.

"I'm fine," she answers an unasked question. Stacie sighs.

"It's been 18 months!" she says over the loud music. "You need to get over him or get under him!"

Beca grimaces. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Jesse! You're still gaga over him!"

"We've been over for a long time; I'm past all of that." Beca waves a hand dismissively but in her head, she's screaming blue murder against the blonde who is running her hand up Jesse's arm. Her hand clenches into a fist.

"You've always been a horrific liar," her friend says sadly. Stacie puts her hand over Beca's fist and smiles sympathetically. "This is my birthday celebration, Becs, and you're sitting here with a sour face when all of our friends are out on the dance floor! Come on, just get out of your own head for one night and enjoy yourself."

With a tight smile, Beca takes one last lingering look across the room. The blonde is whispering into his ear, and he's grinning that smile he used to reserve just for her. His hand is on her waist, the other one lying casually on the bar. He raises his fingers to request a drink, and she turns away when he orders one. She thinks he might have seen her looking, but she doesn't look back to check. Instead, she lets Stacie drag her away towards her other friends. She isn't in the mood to party, but anything is better than the sight she leaves behind.


Her newest guy is some douchebag called Jason.

He doesn't plan on bumping into her so often – because really, it happens on a regular occurrence – but he supposes he shouldn't be surprised. Even in a city as big as this one, it's bound to happen sometimes. They're in the grocery store, and he spots her when he's picking out the vegetables for dinner. The guy is tall, with dark hair and beady eyes and skinny jeans. His arm is flung around Beca's shoulders and she's laughing at something he says.

He doesn't even have time to panic over how to escape unnoticed when her eyes find him.

She looks genuinely surprised, enough to make her falter in her slow walk, and Jason (who he'd heard a few things about through the grapevine) follows her eye line to him. Her basket clatters to the floor and it's enough to shake her out of it. Quickly picking her half-empty basket up, she walks over to him. Jason follows, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he takes Jesse in. Jesse wonders if this new guy knows who he is.

"Beca! Wow, this is a surprise," he manages to get out when she's close enough. There's an awkward pause where both of them seem to hesitate on the edge of whether to hug or not, but they end up staying in their respective spots.

"Jesse, hey." She smiles at him. The new guy throws his arm back around her. It moves her shirt and he only just manages to suppress the flinch at the love bite on her shoulder. "This is Jason," she awkwardly introduces.

"Hey." Jesse shakes his hand and doesn't miss the way the guy tightens his grip.

"Sup."

His hatred for him doubles instantly.

"We were just buying supplies," she explains, evidently trying to fill the silence. He glances down at the basket. Liquorice and popcorn and chocolate. He feels queasy. Those were her favourite movie snacks.

"I see."

It seems to dawn on her that he'd recognise what the contents of her basket equals, and she coughs nervously. "So how are you?"

"Good, yeah."

"I heard about your promotion a few months back. Congratulations."

"Thanks." There's a pregnant pause. "How are you?"

"Great, thanks. Had a lot of work recently so that's been good."

He wants to run away the conversation is so awkward. "I'm glad it's all worked out for you."

She seems to sense that his reply is loaded with unsaid things, and her blue eyes are full of concern. "Jason, could you go pay for these?" she asks without looking from him.

"I guess." The new guy takes the basket and walks away with a suspicious look back over his shoulder. Beca keeps the distance between them friendly, but she leans a little closer.

"You were glaring," she says softly. Jesse straightens up slightly.

"He doesn't really seem your type," Jesse shoots back defensively, but Beca doesn't look that happy with it.

"What, because he's not you?" she retorts, and it stings, but she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, that was harsh."

"He's not good enough for you."

"He's a good guy," she defends.

"That doesn't make him good enough."

She sighs and pinches her fingers on her nose. "Jesse, please, I don't want us to be this way."

"What way?"

"Awkward, defensive." She tilts her head and he leans back against the barrier of the aisle. "It's been what, over two years now? We need to get past this."

He feels himself soften. Beca offering the peace treaty is strange to him, because he's so used to her stubbornness. Perhaps she's changed a lot since he walked out on her. Maybe she's that much better off without him.

So Jesse bites his tongue and forces a smile onto her face. "You really like this guy?"

She nods sincerely.

"Okay then." He nods and lets his shoulders relax. "No more awkwardness."

"No more awkwardness." She smiles and he thinks of the last time she smiled at him that way. Almost a year and a half ago, when his uncle had died, perhaps. He thinks of the last time she touched him, that night so long ago. He thinks of when he woke up that morning to find her gone.

"I should go," she says with a nod towards the cash registers. "But I'll see you soon."

He nods with a small smile. "Okay."

"Bye Jesse." She touches his elbow for a moment and then turns to walk away. He watches her head up the aisle, sees Jason wave her down and how she picks up her speed to rejoin him at his side. He sighs heavily.

"Goodbye, Beca."


She thinks she might be violently sick at any moment. As in Aubrey worthy, projectile vomiting; catastrophic, day ruining with the threat of hospitalisation, ridiculously sick.

The dress is uncomfortable. It's scratchy and overly fancy and too tight. It constricts her lungs and she struggles to catch her breath properly. She doesn't want to be here. She doesn't even know why she's here. She'd been telling herself ever since that invitation landed on her doorstep she wasn't going, and yet somehow, here she is.

The invitation. She remembers how her heart had dropped to her stomach when she saw it amongst her bills. How her hands had trembled when she reached for it, how she had spent forever trying to open it because her fingers were shaking so badly. She remembers how she had fallen against the wall to the floor when she saw the words inside, how she had felt the strange sensation of someone reaching into her chest, gripping her heart, and squeezing as hard as they could. She feels a little like that now.

Music starts to play, and it might be the only time she's ever hated a song so passionately because of what it represents.

The two hundred and fifty strong crowd collectively turn, but Beca can't bear it. Instead, she lets her eyes fall on the front, far away from her seat in the back row, a seat she had chosen for the specific purpose of being able to bail undetected when the agony of watching her first love marry another woman becomes too much to bear.

Jesse's there, fidgeting in his excitement with the cuffs of his shirt under his fancy suit jacket. He looks incredible, so achingly beautiful that it takes her breath away. He's trying not to look, trying to keep it a surprise, but the tearful murmurings of the crowd are making him desperate, she can see. Benji is beside him, the dashing best man, and he's whispering in his ear. Jesse grins and she hears his mother let out a sob from the front of the church.

She's in her eyeline now, her ex-boyfriend's wife-to-be. Beca takes in her back, the only part she can see now she has passed by. This Annabeth, the blonde from the bar two years ago who managed to capture his heart. Beca hates to admit it, but she looks stunning, her short hair pinned back subtly, a thin train blending into her elegant white satin dress. It clings to her, trailing behind her for about a foot. Beca half wishes she could run out and stand on it, letting the girl fall back and hopefully get at least a little injured. Maybe just enough blood to stain her dress.

The guilt for her sick and twisted thoughts makes her feel even worse, and she clings to edge of her aisle to try and keep herself standing.

After an agonizingly long walk, Annabeth makes it to the alter and Jesse looks on the brink of tears as he takes her in and accepts the hand her father offers him. People begin to sit down and Beca gratefully falls into her seat. Benji turns around and for a moment, his eyes linger on her. He's always been so perceptive, and she's not surprised when he quirks an eyebrow, a silent question. She does her best to smile, to assure him she's okay, but it doesn't come out right and Benji frowns before turning back to fact the front, leaning over to whisper to Donald beside him.

"We are gathered here today to witness the joining of these two people in holy matrimony," the priest begins, and Beca leans back into the back rest. She plays with the hem of her black dress to keep her shaking hands occupied. The older woman beside her eyes her in confusion.

She bites her lip as the priest continues to speak to the family and friends of the couple and she closes her eyes. She can't stand all the smiles, all the whispers of how beautiful the bride is, all the dabbing at eyes and all the stupid flowers that seem to everywhere, suffocating her with their smell and all they represent.

"If there is any reason why these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Beca clenches the bench in front so tightly she thinks it might actually break her fingers. A part of her wants to stand up. Wants to run down the aisle and tell Jesse this is all one giant mistake, that she wants to be with him and that this blonde girl is so horrifically wrong for him. Annabeth is not Beca. All he has to do is say the word and she'll run away with him. She'll run anywhere with him.

But then Beca opens her eyes, and in the pause that seems to have gone on forever but is probably barely even a second, she sees him. He's staring at her, his wife to be, unable to look away for even a second, and she can see the happiness there. Jesse loves this girl and no matter how much Beca hates it, she won't stand in the way of his happy ending.

So she stays seated, and instead watches the man she still loves after all these years promise to spend the rest of his life with the wrong girl.


Beca opens her eyes very suddenly, not really sure where she is.

For a moment, the dark room is unfamiliar to her. She doesn't recognise the white peeling walls or the unpolished floorboards or the pile of women's clothing. But as her fuzzy brain begins to work again, she notices that the laundry is made up of her clothes, and that it is her forgotten mug on the bedside table, and her laptop is tucked partly under the bed.

This is not just her bed.

Beca then becomes acutely aware of the odd angle her arm is lying at, and that something is moving gently between her shoulder blades.

She wants to tell him off and kiss him and ask what the hell he thinks he's doing all at once, but that means giving in and she's too angry, too stubborn, to speak first.

However, she can't resist at least just seeing him, just to know what he's feeling, so she rolls over and there he is, his face surprisingly close.

She can't help it when his name slips out from between the lips.

He's just so close.

"Hey," he says on a breath. She finds it oddly satisfying that he looks so nervous. His fingers are now lying on the mattress uselessly. She wants to press kisses to each one, to move it so his hand lies over her heart, or maybe press it to her hip so he can pull her even nearer.

But she doesn't. Instead she just says, "Hey."

He smiles weakly but it doesn't reach his eyes. "You're right, and I'm sorry. I don't want to fight anymore, I don't want to watch you sleep with your back to me. I want us to be okay again."

She grasps his hand in hers, because Jesse makes her weak in a way she really shouldn't like. "Me too."

"I'll do better, I promise. I don't mean to be a lazy asshole, and I didn't know how unhappy it was making you." He shifts closer, his knee knocking hers.

"You don't make me unhappy," she whispers earnestly. "Quite the opposite, actually."

Even in the dim light she can see a smile take over his face, which only grows when she cups his jaw gently. "I love you."

She leans forward until their lips meet softly. "I know."

"Do you still love me too?"

Her eyes are closed but she can feel his gaze. It makes her smile. "Maybe. If you do the washing up."

There's a smirk to his voice when he speaks. "I already did it."

"Fine. If you clean the bathroom."

"Consider it already on my to do list."

"And make me breakfast in the morning." She opens one eye to see his partly amused expression.

"Don't push it."

"I want the whole shebang. Toast and bacon and eggs and –"

He cuts her off with a chaste kiss, which she refuses to accept alone so she pulls him in closer. Her lips linger against his and her fingers are somehow tangled in his hair, his hand pulling on her waist.

"You've made me such a sap Miss Mitchell, you know that? I couldn't even last one night not being with you." His mouth quirks upwards and she kisses it gently.

"I didn't make you a sap; I got you this way." She touches his nose and chuckles when he scrunches it up as it tickles him. "I was going to return you but…"

"I was too hot and amazing and talented?"

"No." But she laughs, because he is, not that she'd willingly tell him that despite their five years together. "I lost my receipt."

His forehead presses against her and his lips are soft on hers. "I must be a very lucky man."

She blushes and she's glad they're cloaked in darkness. "Jesse…"

"I know that things are more difficult now," he begins anxiously. She shifts, because so rarely is he so serious, and she's found it's always good to listen when he's like this. "Being away from Barden has been a big adjustment, and even though we've been here, what, two years? We're still adjusting and that's okay. It's… I know that it's tough sometimes. I know that I drive you crazy a lot and that I can be a complete pain to be around at times. But you always stay here. With me. And I'm really, really thankful for that."

She smiles weakly, emotions tangling together in her throat. "Jesse, you must know by now." She pauses for a moment and sighs at how stupid this, how she still seems to find it so difficult to say something that's in any way vulnerably honest. "There's no where else I want to be."

He kisses her hard, a wordless thank you for letting herself say that to him, and she clings to him, her body pressed to his. The no-mans land between them is gone. Instead she just lets her body take over, and suddenly their hands are everywhere and her pyjama bottoms are gone somehow after he turns his nose up at the offending clothing choice. She knows he likes her best in his clothes.

"Let's never fight again," she pleads as his lips trail across her collarbone.

"No more fighting," he promises in a distracted murmur against her skin. She shivers deliciously.

"I just, y-you were right," she gets out between pants. "What you said…"

She can't remember what he said because his fingers are touching some extremely inappropriate places considering the serious nature of what she's trying to say. His smile against her sternum makes her want to curse at him, and the words are on the tip of her tongue when suddenly he's completely derailing her thoughts again and the only thing she seems to be able to get out is his name.


They fight again only a week later.

"You are being so out of line!" she yells at him. "I cannot believe what you are actually saying to me right now!"

"Oh, perfect, here you go!" he throws his hands up in the air. "Making it all about you again!"

She gapes at him and then her lip curls. "You aren't seriously claiming I'm self involved!" The mug she didn't know she'd grabbed from the coffee table smashes against the wall behind him. "We literally had this argument a week ago about how I do everything for you!"

"Oh get over yourself Beca!" He groans loudly and turns away from her, pushing the heel of his hands into his eyes. "Why are you this frustrating!"

Another smash by his ear. Her voice is low and cold when she shouts her reply. "If I'm so frustrating then why the hell are you still here?!"

"You know what." He laughs humourlessly. "That's a damn good question."

"Wh –"

Her squeak of surprise is cut off by the bedroom door slamming, and he seethes quietly as he angrily stuffs random clothes into a bag. She's being ridiculous, as she always is, and Jesse is at his wits end. He's fed up of her constant nagging and coming second to her laptop. He's tired of her cold shoulder and her complaints about his movies and her pestering over helping around their apartment. He is sick of all of it.

He texts Benji to let him know he needs a place to crash, and after he's thrown a random array of items into his bag, he storms out of the bedroom and crosses over to the living room to the bathroom. She's still standing where he left her, he thinks, though it's hard to tell when she's such a blur in his periphery. He doesn't want to look at her. If he looks at her she'll suck him back in and ruin his faith in his decision.

Apparently though, that is not the only thing that can ruin it.

The toothbrush in his hand can ruin it too.

His mind jumps back a week, to the night he fell asleep to the sight of her back, to the night he dreamt for the first time of a life spent without her. He thinks of the drunken phone call, how she had been his angel. He thinks about how she had been there when his uncle was apparently hit by a car. He thinks about how he tried dating but it just didn't seem to work.

Beca's right. He is an idiot.

Jesse walks slowly out of the bathroom with the toothbrush in his hand, and his destroyed resolve only melts further when he sees her watching him, tear tracks on her face that make his heart clench unpleasantly. Her eyes are wide, shining with unshed tears and a shaky disposition. He wonders why he thought he could so easily leave her.

"I had a dream last week," he forces out in a strange strangled tone. "I had a dream that we broke up over a toothbrush."

Her chin juts up like she's trying to be strong, but a new tear stain joins the others on her cheek.

"I had a nightmare that I had to live without you." She's still not speaking and he doesn't have the courage to walk up to her and take whatever anger she has to throw at him. "I couldn't do it, even in my dream. I kept needing you too much."

Her arms cross over her chest.

"Last week I told you about how I knew our life here was tough. In my dream, life was so much more difficult without you being with me." Another pause. "This week I'm telling you that I'd rather have a frustrating life with you than an impossible one without."

The words take their time to sink in, but she eventually speaks up. "I watched you marry another woman," she whispers in a way that makes his heart break all over again. "That was my nightmare. Last week I dreamt of you disappearing and marrying another woman."

He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know what to do but stare at her as she starts to shake in the chill of their apartment.

"Did I keep coming back?" she asks then. "When you kept needing me, did I come back?"

"Yes."

She swallows thickly. "Then you can go if you want."

He frowns; does she still want him to leave? "Why?"

"Because I know you'll come back too."

Jesse walks on numb feet across the distance between them. She crumbles quickly into his arms, latching onto him desperately, and he strokes her hair as she snivels into his neck. Finding solace in the way she fits so perfectly against him, he lets his eyes close and better absorb the feel of her skin on his.

"I'll never come back," he tells her when she finally pulls back to look at him, "Because I don't intend on ever leaving."

"Good," she says, snuggling back in, "Because that Annabeth really wasn't your type."

He smiles into her hair. "Oh really?"

"Definitely. She was all blonde and tall and pretty and kind, with this great smile and nice eyes -"

"She sounds great, can I have her number?"

She slaps his chest and he chuckles. "I'm serious Jesse, I was really cut up about it!"

Hands on her arms, he pulls her back to look at her tear stained face. He hates that he put that pain there. "Quite frankly I think she sounds kind of dull."

A smile flashes across her face. "Well you did pick her up in bar..."

His lips are soft against hers and when he looks at her again, her eyes stayed closed for a moment. "Besides, haven't you figured out already that I prefer brunettes?"

As expected, she rolls her eyes. "You're such a dork."

He kisses her again and hums happily against her lips. "Yeah but I'm your dork."

"You're doing it again," she murmurs back, "Talking when there are plenty more fun, important things you could be doing. With me. To me."

His eyes sparkle with mischief and within seconds he's used the leverage from holding her arms to throw her over his shoulder with a less than Beca-like squeal of surprise. He carries her to the bedroom with a grunt of "Me Jesse, you Beca, me sex you now," much to her horror and disbelief, but her scolding doesn't last for long before he's soon blowing raspberries on her collar bone and making her gasp through her laughter. Yes, he is definitely her dork. She wouldn't have him any other way.


OH MY GOD PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!

I'm sorry, really, for messing with your heads like that. Know that writing the wedding was incredibly difficult, so bad I wanted to cut my fingers off to stop them typing. And yeah, my twist - it was only just a dream! (guess which soundtrack I was listening to when I came up with that idea!) I'm sorry, really, because I didn't plan on the dream thing until after I wrote the first part. But I just had all these things I wants to write and then I didn't know how to put them back together so... Yeah. This happened. But it does fit! Beca's and Jesse's differing views don't link at all detail wise apart from one in the Jesse's first dream (bad planning on my part). So it works. Honest.

Judging by my previous experience with you guys and your reviews, I know that I'm probably going to have a few freak outs going on. Fear not, feel free to do so! I really do love reading all your thoughts on my writing so please, go nuts, I love chatting to you all.