Here we are again, Lovlies. Just a short little chapter before all the shit starts to hit the fan. This one was hard to write, and when you've read it you will understand why. lots of self pity in this one, Jesse is an angsty little bastard. But really, I did need to garner a little bit of sympathy for him. Please let me know what you think!

Jesse didn't even bother turning his face to the side. He didn't even care that just pulling breath through his nostrils was so much harder through the cottony layers of the crisp and slightly stiff motel pillow. All things considered, the motel was pretty nice. It was clean, well cared for, and quiet. It wasn't decadent by any means, just a twelve room motel furnished with one queen sized extra firm bed in each room (extra roll-away bed optional), a tube television equipped with basic cable, and free internet (not WiFi-just an Ethernet jack next to where the cable connection). Well, internet and cable were more than what he'd had at his mother's house. Home sweet home, Jesse had grumbled while dropping his suitcases onto the floor and immediately leaving to drive to nearest (and only) liquor store in town.

Jesse finally turned his face to the side, drawing in a deep breath, and noting that the ache in his chest was not subsiding with easier access to oxygen. He brought a hand up to scrub over his face before swearing under his breath and rolling onto his back. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. He had originally planned on showering at Beca's and maybe borrowing on of her oversized t-shirts but over-sleeping and then fighting had ruined his chance. He sighed heavily, thinking back to their argument.

He wasn't sure which made him feel worse, the fact that they had fought or the fact that when she had flat out asked him why he kept going to her apartment and he couldn't spit out the words he wanted to say. In his defense, Jesse didn't really want his profession of love to be out of anger. Nor had he wanted to say it while they were having sex-because, really, who could formulate words properly while doing that?

He rolled his head to the right, staring at the bottle of bourbon sitting unopened on his night stand. Next to it sat a flowery Dixie cup. Classy. Because Jesse was nothing, if not a classy guy. Right. So fucking classy that the woman I'm in love with can't open up to me about important issues in her life, like the fact that she and her brother are drowning in debt. Hearing that had been sobering. Jesse hadn't before spared one thought as to why Beca and Bumper worked two jobs. Why? Because I, Jesse Swanson, am an asshole of the grandest kind. Now he couldn't stop thinking about it. Jesse ground his teeth together in frustration.

The conversation he'd had on the phone with Bumper had been awkward at best. But Jesse was at a loss for what to do and who better to ask than Beca's own brother? Well, maybe Benji but Jesse had a feeling that Benji would probably be more than a little biased, being Beca's best friend. Bumper hadn't had much in the way of comfort, nor advice, beyond "You're the one who pissed her off, Dude. You figure it out. And do it soon, please, I don't really want to deal with her when she's all wrath-y, and man-hating because you couldn't keep your damn foot out of your mouth."

Beca's words played on repeat in his head, each syllable feeling like a stab to his gut.

"Sorry, but that's something I would only do with someone I'm dating. Not someone who only comes over here to fuck and can't even explain why he keeps coming back for it."

"Uuurrrrggggggghhhhhhhhhh," Jesse groaned in frustration, wishing there was a way to go back in time and kick himself. Why? Why didn't I just tell her how I felt last night? Because he, Jesse Swanson, was an idiot of the grandest kind. He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing the bottle of Maker's Mark and, using his thumbnail to cut through the wax on the neck of the bottle, opened it. Jesse sat up, bringing the bottle to his lips and tipped it up, relishing the burn in his throat as the warm liquid burned its way down to his stomach. Jesse pulled the bottle from his mouth, wiping the drops that escaped his lips to run down his chin. He stared at the bottle in his hands, seeing Beca's face in his mind. The way her eyes had flashed in fury and her cheeks had flushed with embarrassment as he made the joke about her apartment…

Jesse tipped the bourbon to his mouth again, taking a longer pull this time, ready for the burn and relishing the way it felt. He hadn't meant anything cruel by his remark. Hell, Beca had joked several times about her apartment complex. "This place makes the Southside of the city look like a nice neighborhood." "Even the Meth-heads stay in nicer places than this." He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to hurt. Jesse had taken the quips at face value, thinking that it hadn't bothered her. Now he realized she was just trying to make light of the fact that she was forced to live there in order to just to make ends meet. Was that why she never went back to finish school? He glanced at the bottle once more.

"Jesus…did I already drink half?" he asked in shock, noting that his words fell sloppily from his lips. Just how long had he been sitting on his bed, drowning his sorrows? He brought the bottle to his lips again, not even feeling the burn as he drank. Just what the hell was he supposed to do now? How did he make this right?

Why does it even matter? I'll be gone in a few months anyways. That shitty voice in the back of his head was back, louder this time. Doesn't this make things easier? Sure, you love her, but what about your life? Your career? Your home in LA? He glanced down at the bottle again. "Fuck," he huffed when he saw there was just under a quarter of the bottle left. When was the last time he'd drank this much? He couldn't quite recall at that moment. Jesse, Jesse, Jesse…

"Jesse?" Jesse's eyes widened in shock as he heard the voice speak out loud. How drunk am I? he wondered thickly, his thoughts moving like molasses. And why does the voice in my head suddenly sound female? "Jesse, are you in there? I saw your car in the parking lot." He turned his head to look at the door to his room, realizing that that was where the voice was coming from.

"Beca?" he croaked dully, realizing that he was hearing a distinctly feminine voice coming from outside his door. How did she know where my room was? he asked himself as he turned to place his feet on the floor. It doesn't matter…she's here, he decided, standing up, swaying slightly, before staggering across his room to the door. He twisted the knob, throwing the door open. Without pausing to ask silly questions-like, "What are you doing here?" or "Are you still mad at me?"-Jesse's arms reached out to grab Beca, pulling her against his body and kissing her shocked lips. He had surprised her. He could tell by the way her body froze. But when he deepened his kiss, his hands sliding up her back to thread through her hair, she began to relax against him, kissing him back.

His eyes were closed and he let his other senses take the reins, the feel of her soft lips moving against his, her hands gripping the cloth of his shirt and the soft gasps she made between kisses caressing his ears. Jesse stepped back, moving them into his room and allowing the door to swing shut. "Beca," he huffed softly against her mouth. "God…I want you so bad." He began to kiss his way down her jaw before letting his teeth nip lightly against the soft flesh of her throat. She let out a throaty sigh, her hands raking through his hair. He removed his hands from her head and gripped her hips firmly, forcing her pelvis to grind against his erection straining through the material of his khakis.

They walked back towards the bed, tumbling onto the rumpled comforter. She maneuvered herself on top of him, her legs on either side of his hips, grinding into him and causing him to groan with pleasure. She tugged at the hem of his shirt and Jesse shifted so that she could pull it off of him, before attaching his mouth to her collar bone, lathing his tongue across her smooth skin. "Beca," he whispered again, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts through her thin tank top. He could feel her nipples harden through the fabric and he used his thumbs to brush across them, hearing her gasp at the feeling.

"Jesse," she panted, her fingers skating along the planes of his torso. "I'm totally down to do this but would you mind saying my name instead of your girlfriend's."

Jesse stilled his movements, his eyes shooting open. He stared at the thin blue strap of the tank top, taking in the sun-kissed tone of the skin just beneath it. Too tan. The skin was too tan. Beca's was creamy, preferring to keep out of the sun. He lifted his gaze slowly, his heart slamming in his chest, no longer from excitement but with dread. When his vision registered straight blond locks instead of Beca's wavy brown, Jesse pulled his face away from the woman he had been kissing, raising his eyes to meet Aubrey's hooded grey irises as she watched him.

"Holy Fuck!" he hissed, wriggling to get out from underneath her. She shifted, allowing him room to scoot away. "Ohmygod, Aubrey! I didn't…I had no idea…I was-"

"I just stopped by to ask if you would give me a ride into the city so I could pick up the car I'm renting while I stay here," she said conversationally. Jesse stared at her in disbelief, shame causing bile to rise in his throat. "I guess you were expecting…Beca?" She continued to watch him. Jesse scrubbed his hands over his face, groaning.

"Fuck…Aubrey…I'm so sorry…I thought…you were…" Jesse stared at his hands in horror. His stomach churned in realization at what he had done. "Oh, my god…" Jesse rose from the bed, needing to put space between himself and what would have been the worst mistake of his life. Would have been? Fuck…you kissed her! You nearly fucked her on your bed! If Beca finds out…

"It's…it's ok," she said slowly. He turned away from her, raking his fingers roughly through his hair. He heard her move. Jesse felt her hand on his back, the heat from her palm making his stomach roll uncomfortably. Jesse let out a shuddering breath.

"No, Aubrey. What I just did was wrong. I'm so dunk, and Beca and I fought today…and I just thought, when I heard your voice…I thought you were her and I just… Ohmygod…" Jesse raised his hands to cover his mouth. He felt sick.

"Jesse, it's fine," she told him. "Nothing happened." He shook his head, the room beginning to spin out of control. "No one will know. Even if you want to get back to what we were doing, I won't tell." Jesse shook her hand off his back, racing to the bathroom. The bottle of bourbon catching up to him, he could feel his gorge rising. He burst through the bathroom door, barely making it close enough to collapse to his knees and empty his stomach into the toilet, heaving and retching violently.

"Fuck," he moaned quietly into the porcelain bowl, reaching up with a clammy hand to flush away the sick. Had he even eaten today? He couldn't remember at the moment. Jesse Swanson, you are an asshole of the grandest kind. What was he going to say to Beca?

Jesse exhaled and got to his, his legs still somewhat unsteady. His purge had done him some good, he noted that the room no longer spun and his head was much clearer. He stepped over to the sink, turning on the cold water, and bent over to splash his face with water. Then he put his mouth to the stream of water, sucking some into his mouth to swish it and swirl it around and rinse the taste of vomit from his mouth. When he was done he spat the water out and turned the faucet off. After drying his face with a towel, Jesse turned and walked out of the bathroom. He was surprised to see Aubrey lounging on the bed, flipping through the channels on the TV. She seemed to feel his eyes in her and Jesse watched as she turned her head to look at him, her eyes showing some concern.

"Feeling better?" She asked softly. Jesse sighed.

"Yeah. Listen...I'm sorry about what happened...but you need to leave. I'll pay for a cab ride to go get your rental car..." Jesse trailed off, staring at the floor.

"Look, Jesse, I'm not interested in the sob story you're working up about why you kissed me and why it was wrong," Aubrey sighed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed before standing up. "Honestly, I don't care either way if anything happens or not. I'm not looking for any kind of relationship. And you're obviously too caught up in your own drama to even know what you want." She paused and Jesse stared at her as she appraised him. "I called a cab while you were busy in the bathroom. You got a phone call, by the way." She stepped around him and sauntered to the door. As she pulled the door open she turned looked back over her shoulder. "If you figure out that you want more than Beca, give me a call."

"Hey, Aubrey," Jesse called softly, and watched as she paused, waiting for him to continue. "Beca is what I want. But if I ever feel like settling for less, I'll give you a call." He watched as Aubrey smiled.

"I can't wait to start working with you, Jesse," she laughed, walking through the doorway and shutting the door behind her. Jesse couldn't help staring at the door for a few moments before shaking his head. He walked over to the bed, picking his phone up and glancing at the screen. He showed no missed calls. He unlocked his phone and checked his call log, inhaling sharply when he saw who the last caller was.

Beca had called. And Jesse had been too preoccupied with puking his guys up to even know that she was calling.

"Fucking Goddamn Motherfucking Shitballs," he swore, pressing the call back button and lifting his phone to his ear. He didn't care what he had to do, he was going to tell Beca he was sorry, beg her to forgive him, and proclaim his love for her...just as soon as she answered the phone.

Did I forget to warn ya'll about this chapter having some slight Jaubrey? Oops...