From Tumblr prompt "Stop being so cute." - I decided to add it to this series, in which (you guessed it) PP3 doesn't exist. This follows established Bechloe after the events of "Reality." Can also stand on its own.

Amy knew this would happen. She just knew it. In a way, she could only blame herself.

After all, she was the one who'd started the whole "Bloe" thing. She'd known for years how in love with each other those two were and had been trying her hardest to get them to see it. It had been her idea, too, to force Beca and Chloe to share a bed when they moved to New York.

And, when Chloe had "secretly" flown to LA to yell at the stupid puppy after he dumped Beca (really, Chloe was never good at hiding things – thankfully, Beca was the most oblivious newt Amy had ever met) she'd managed to talk to Beca and get her to realize what everyone else had known for years. Sure, Chloe had mega crazy eyes ("Crazy beautiful," Beca had said when Amy mentioned it) and was super intense, but anyone could see that she loved Beca. Beca just had to figure out her own feelings. With Amy's help, and some alcohol, by the end of that weekend, Amy knew they had a chance. When Chloe came back from "not LA," Operation Bloe was a go again. Amy had known it would only be a matter of time after that. And it was.

Really, Amy knew that without her, those two oblivious idiots never would have gotten together.

And, okay, maybe she should have known better than to appear without warning in the apartment they all shared. Especially following the weekend Beca and Chloe had basically set aside for sex. Honestly, those two had been completely ridiculous about the whole thing. Amy had never seen anything like it; the extent to which they prepared for The Big Smash was alarmingly methodological. Seriously, would a little spontaneity have killed them? Amy didn't think so. How they managed to stave off the tension that had been building for more than five years for all that planning, she couldn't comprehend.

That didn't matter really, though. The point was that they finally got around to it, woo hoo. Thankfully, Amy had planned on being gone the weekend of their Friday date night (though why those two called it "date night" rather than "we're totally just gonna bone night" was beyond her.) But she had to go back eventually – it was her house too, for god's sake – and if they had broken anything important she would most certainly not be paying for it.

Sure, maybe she should have called or texted or smoke signaled or something to let them know she'd be back on Sunday evening. But she didn't, because she figured they'd have realized she had to be back eventually.

So, in a way, she knew that what she walked in on was entirely her fault.

Well, not entirely. They could have put a sock on the door or something similarly classy. But still.

It had been quite a shock – no, a trauma – to have lugged her insanely heavy suitcase up the stairs (those aca-lesbos could have helped – isn't at least one of them supposed to be really stereotypically fit?), fumbled around with her keys, and opened the door to see them. Beca and Chloe. Chloe and Beca. Her roommates and close friends, doing something she'd hoped she'd never have to witness.

They had been there, in the middle of the kitchen, shamelessly in view for her and the entire world to see, dancing – actually dancing! – to an up-tempo song as they made dinner.

It made her shudder just thinking about it.

How was it humanly possible for two people to be so disgustingly, abhorrently cute together?

She stood in the doorway, unable to look away, like viewing a horrific car accident. It took them a while to notice her, too. If she'd been a wild dingo, she easily could have attacked without warning.

Several seconds passed before Beca finally saw her, stopped dancing, and called out, "Amy! You're back!" in the most chipper voice Amy had ever heard her use. Beca Mitchell, being chipper. Amy thought she'd never see the day.

Chloe turned as well and sent her a beaming smile, practically glowing. Ew.

"Woah, woah, woah," Amy said, lifting her hands to shield her eyes. "Too much exposure there. Warn a girl."

Peeking out from between her fingers, Amy saw Beca and Chloe break apart, though Beca's arm remained slung low around Chloe's hips.

"We're just dancing," Beca said, as if what they'd been doing hadn't been a risk to public health.

"Doesn't mean I want to see it," Amy replied, turning to drag her suitcase into the apartment behind her.

"Sorry, Amy," said Chloe, leaning her head into Beca's shoulder briefly, "but this is what it's gonna be like from now on."

Oh God. Amy froze on her journey between the front door and her side of the apartment/room. If she had to come home to that every day… Well. She wouldn't be living there for much longer. Or maybe they wouldn't.

"Listen," she said, resuming her path and lifting her luggage onto her bed to begin unpacking, "at least warn me before there's any funny business. And no sex while I'm here," she added urgently.

Beca wrinkled her nose, but Chloe looked thoughtful as she turned back to the dinner they were making. A chill trickled down Amy's spine and she was overcome with foreboding. Surely, they wouldn't dare?

Amy grimly continued unpacking her suitcase, wondering if, in her quest to get Beca and Chloe together, she'd created a monster.

Time spent with them for the following week only confirmed Amy's worst fears. She was being tortured, slowly and mercilessly, by unending, nauseating displays of cute.

She didn't understand why they always had to be touching. Always. The Beca Amy used to know hated touching, but this version of Beca often initiated physical contact with Chloe. And, okay, Chloe had always been the exception to Beca's "hands off" rule, but this was to a whole new level. Whether it be a hand on a back, an arm around shoulders, or even a touch as they passed each other in the apartment, they were always in contact.

Amy almost threw up when Chloe pushed a lock of hair behind Beca's ear for her.

Sure, Amy was happy for them. She really, truly was. Despite Beca's moody, hermit-like tendencies and Chloe's occasional crazy eyes, those two were perfect together. She'd never seen either of them happier. And she'd been beyond tired of waiting with bated breath with the rest of the Bellas for something to finally break the tension between those two. Anyone looking at them could see how completely in love with each other they were, even before they admitted it themselves.

However, that didn't mean she had to see it all the time. At some point, it all reached a "too much" stage. And sure, Amy knew she could be a little too open about her own exploits (look, Bumper really was a superb roll in the hay), but she wasn't really into PDA or cute displays. She'd talk about it all day, maybe, but actually do it in front of someone? No. (Well, there was that one time at the Treble lake house, but other than that, her record was completely clean.)

Amy could handle a lot. But the cuteness (bleh) between her two roommates was becoming excessive. Then, suddenly, it reached a new high (or low, depending on perspective) following one of their dates.

Beca and Chloe came bursting through the front door late on a Saturday evening, holding hands (though how they'd managed to maintain connection up the narrow stairs was beyond Amy) and smiling at each other like total idiots.

"What's up, aca-lesbos?" Amy asked casually.

"Amy, neither of us is actually lesbian," Beca said, her usual response to such things.

"Details," Amy sighed tiredly.

Chloe rushed forward and Amy flinched a little – when a Ginger runs, it's never a good sign.

"Amy, look at what happened!" she exclaimed excitedly, holding out a little box presumably containing jewelry.

Amy's stomach swooped and she stared at Beca. "If that's a ring –" she started.

"It's not a ring!" Beca exclaimed, looking a little pink.

Amy exhaled in relief and returned her attention to Chloe, who was also rather pink but didn't look appalled by the idea of a ring. "What is it, then?" she asked nervously.

"Beca and I accidentally bought each other the same pair of earrings for our date!" Chloe said excitedly, practically bouncing in place as she opened the jewelry box to display small gold hoop earrings.

"Very couple-y," Amy said as she looked beyond Chloe to see Beca holding an identical pair of earrings. "Kind of creepy, to be honest."

"Oh, whatever," Beca said at the same time Chloe chirped, "Thanks!"

Amy smiled a little then; even she had to admit that unintentionally buying the same gift for each other was too perfect. "You guys are really something else, you know?"

She meant it as a compliment, though her fingers were already twitching to open the Bellas group chat and tell everyone about this alarmingly adorable development.

"We should put them on each other," Chloe suggested, turning to Beca.

"Oh, good idea," Beca replied eagerly.

Amy rolled her eyes, wondering if a person's eyes could actually get stuck from rolling them all the time. If so, she was in trouble. Why hadn't they put the earrings on each other during the date? They were so weird.

She looked away as Beca and Chloe approached each other, each looking at the other tenderly. Amy knew she'd been forgotten for the moment. She sighed, leaning back on her bed as the sound of soft giggles continued, and opened the Bellas group chat (minus Beca and Chloe) to share the update.

After a few minutes, the laughter got louder; it seemed that the two lovebirds had started a tickle fight. Deplorable. Amy closed the chat and instead opened a new search tab, searching for cheap apartments in New York.

"Hey, did you hear about the big news today?"

Amy, reading on her bed, looked up from her book at the sound of Beca's unusually (as of late) serious tone. She and Chloe were sat at the kitchen table together while Beca worked on a mix – or something, whatever it was she did – for work.

"No," replied Chloe, scooting even closer to Beca. "What happened?"

"Well, you know NASA? Like, the space group?"

Chloe nodded.

"So, apparently they've invented a new kind of rocket," Beca said, looking far too excited about the news, at least in Amy's opinion.

"Yeah?" asked Chloe.

"Yeah," repeated Beca. "So, you know how when rockets go up, the back half, like the thrusters, that bit breaks off?"

Amy sighed. She had an idea of what might be happening here, but Chloe remained enthralled.

"Sure," Chloe nodded, oblivious.

"Well," said Beca, "this new kind of rocket splits vertically down the center."

Chloe's expression remained confused, so Beca said, "Here, let me show you."

She put her palms together, fingers aligned and pointed upward like she was high-fiving herself. "The rocket goes up…" and she moved her hands up in the air like a rocket launching, "and splits…" she separated her hands, "and comes down." Beca reached one arm around Chloe to land on her far shoulder, tugging her into her side. Chloe laughed in delight, snuggling closer into a grinning Beca.

Amy rolled her eyes so hard she thought she felt her retinas detach. That had been quite possibly the lamest pickup line she'd seen. Ever.

Amy grit her teeth. She reached for a huge pile of mail with her name on it, figuring that opening several months' worth of accumulation would be a good distraction from the frightening display her roommates were putting on.

She could handle this. It was just another cute overload.

Except she couldn't handle it. Amy broke on a Tuesday.

The three of them were going to get ice cream at their favorite little shop, walking down the Brooklyn sidewalk and enjoying the warm summer day.

She ignored it when Beca purposefully switched places with Chloe on the sidewalk, putting herself between Chloe and the crazy New York traffic. She ignored it when Chloe opened the ice cream shop door for Beca, ushering her in first. She even ignored how they ordered for each other at the counter (caramel pecan for Beca, strawberry for Chloe).

She couldn't ignore it, though, when they fed each other the ice cream off their own spoons. In public, no less!

"Stop being so cute!" she burst out, startling Beca so much that she dropped the spoon she'd been about to steer into Chloe's mouth.

"Amy, what –" Chloe started while Beca swore loudly and ducked under the table to retrieve the utensil.

"Ohhh, no," Amy said, waving her arms, "don't pretend to be clueless! Enough! I can't handle this!" she yelled, catching the attention of others in the shop.

Beca and Chloe blinked at her in confused silence.

"You two are so disgustingly, repulsively cute that it makes me want to die. I get it, together you're Bloe, and that's aca-amazing or whatever, but it's a lot, okay?"

"Amy –" Beca said, reaching out a hand.

"And so," Amy plowed on, ignoring her, "I have done some apartment shopping and have found you a new place to live. I'm kicking you out."

"You can't just –"

"Yes! I can! I don't need to see it anymore! I don't like walking in on you!"

"We haven't been –"

"That's why I found you the perfect place, right across the hall," Amy finished grandly, crossing her arms.

"Across… the hall?" Chloe asked slowly.

"Yeah, well, you still need to see my sexy ass, I just don't need to see your –"

"What about rent?" Beca interrupted (rude), "Can you handle –"

"For your information, I recently started opening my mail as a way to hide from you two," Amy said, insulted by the shock that filled both Beca and Chloe's expressions at her pronouncement. "As it turns out, I have a nice sum in the Cayman Islands that will take care of my rent. So, there's nothing to it. I expect you two to move out as soon as possible."

Beca and Chloe stared at her mutely as she took a huge scoop of her ice cream (chocolate), feeling immensely satisfied with herself.

"Well… okay," Beca said after a minute, glancing at Chloe.

"Good," Amy nodded once.

She felt kind of bad for kicking them out. Kind of. But not really. They needed their own space now that Bloe was real.

Besides, Amy only had herself to blame for getting to this point, after all.

She wouldn't change a single thing.