A/N: For acciosense, Wolvezzz, Bidisaster31, zoe-levenson, and Icedragone, for all the support and motivation you guys have given me to write more than I should; and for the rest of all of you, for all the reads and likes and comments for me to continue more than I could ever expect. My heart gives out to each and every one of you, and even if my schoolwork gets delayed because of my tendency to write fictional characters instead of psychological theories, I don't regret it, and just seeing that people actually read my mediocre stuff makes it worth every second. :))

Special thanks to rejection-isnt-failure, for the inspiration once again for a second part for which I had no idea how to write. You are aca-amazing, and I owe you one. ;))

Beca's foot stays firmly on the brakes as her car waits for the light to turn green. Her thumbs tap anxiously on the steering wheel, and her knee bounces agitatedly against the mat at her feet.

"I still can't believe that you had to drag me out here with you to go on a date with your covid doctor."

Beca glances over to see her friend leaning against the passenger side window, her eyes looking out to the traffic beyond, fingers playing with her bottom lip. Stacie sighs—and as if sensing Beca's gaze on her—pulls her attention away from the scenery outside. "Well?"

Beca hesitates, not entirely thrilled at the prospect of having to explain why she had to consequently beg for her friend to tag along, "I couldn't bring myself to blatantly ask her out on a date over the phone, and I hadn't wanted to make it all awkward and weird if I just showed up alone outside her place of work and she refused."

The elbow that had been resting on the edge of the passenger's side door slips, and the finger that had been tugging absently on Stacie's lip falls, "You mean to tell me that she doesn't even know that we are going to show up today outside the local health office?"

Beca cringes, facing her body properly forward once again, finding it suddenly difficult to look the gaping brunette in the eye, "Yeah. Do you think she'll freak?"

A huff expels into the air and Beca takes great comfort in the realization that it is one out of amusement and not of disapprobation, "Freak? There's more of a chance for her to be disappointed with the prospect of you not being alone, Beca, than her freaking out."

The light finally changes, and Beca whips her head to both sides before lifting her foot off the brakes, "Disappointed? What do you mean?"

A flurry of movement catching at the corners of her eyes indicate that Stacie is flurrying her arms about, "Are you kidding me? From what I could tell of what you had told me, she is totally into you! It's actually a wonder that she hasn't just looked up your address in your mass of paperwork and dropped by to jump your bones in all this time."

Beca sputters at the very notion that Dr. Chloe Beale would actually want to jump her bones. Sure, the redheaded doctor had been overly friendly and flirty that day exactly a week ago, but that doesn't mean that she actually likes her. It could just be that Chloe is naturally a friendly and flirty person. It could just be that Beca is reading the wrong signals. It could just be that she is getting her hopes up. It could—

"Holy shit."

Stacie leans forward in her seat to get in her line of sight. "What?"

"My phone number was on the paperwork that day of our covid shot. And you're right, my address was on it too." Beca's mind races with the implication of that information, and she suddenly gets the urge to pull into one of the random driveways of the houses passing by and turn right around, "She could've just looked for it and contacted me as soon as she got off work. But she didn't, because I was the one who had to text her first. Three days later. Fuck. What if she really wasn't all that interested, and I am really just reading too much into it? What if—"

"Oh my god." Stacie drops her head onto the right side of her dash. "Were you not listening to me? She sounds like she wants to fuck your brains out. A girl doesn't just ask someone she barely knows what that person is doing and feeling at 12 o'clock at night just because, Beca. Trust me."

Beca cringes even harder at the memory, at the memory of the hours of tossing and turning she had spent staring at her phone two nights prior just at that simple message, only to respond with a lame "I'm good. And you?" five hours in. God, she is such a fucking idiot. "Then why hadn't she tried to contact me first?"

"Because, Beca, she had already given you her number. Which is really saying something, seeing as how I'm pretty sure that she could get in major trouble if someone finds her out. You don't just give someone your number and then text that person first, woman. That's not how that works."

Beca frowns. Stacie has a point. The sight of blue eyes darting agitatedly down a hall flashes briefly before her mind.

Beca's hand moves away from the turn signal—which would allow her to pull into the driveway of one of the abandoned one-story brick buildings at the side of the road—and continues to drive in the middle lane, straight ahead.

"And besides," Stacie continues, as if Beca needs more reassurance that she is an awkward and inconsiderate nervous fucking idiot, "If she had been willing to give you a chance when you were a tripping and stammering mess, I think she would be willing to give you a chance after just about anything else."

Beca pans her gaze over, taking her eyes momentarily off the road, "Thanks. I am so fucking glad that I had decided to tell you all about the reason why I had walked away from a covid shot last week with a sticker and a phone number in tow when you asked."

Stacie ignores her, lifting her head away from its position on the dashboard to lay it languidly against the headrest. "Seriously though, Mitchell. Why are you so nervous around her? You had never been this way, even around that German chick last year at that bar with whom you couldn't seem to stop complimenting for. You've always been confident and known exactly what you wanted—and exactly what you didn't—so what makes this doctor so special that you had to literally blurt out whether she would be the one to text you the info for the round up covid vaccine?"

The ghost of Chloe's glove clad fingertips tenderly brushing the skin of her upper left arm still sends shivers up her spine. "Believe me, Stace. I want to know why too. I honestly have no clue why I'm this nervous and jittery around her."

Her friend falls curiously into a period of silence, but Beca is grateful because that means that she can continue on her way towards her destination in peace with just her and her tenacious thoughts.

Following the first dosage of the covid-19 vaccine—along with the initial shot of an all encompassing addiction of the presence of a certain gorgeous doctor—Beca had not stopped replaying in her mind every second of the day since, spilling everything to Stacie as soon as they had gotten back to her apartment with nothing more than a small nudge and going to work the ensuing days totally distracted and preoccupied, and had talked herself out of making something out of the black curling digits winking at her from the back of the "I got vaccinated!" sticker besides using it as a mere decoration sitting on her nightstand countless times in the early hours of the morning and the unholy hours of the night before finally squeezing her eyes shut and punching in the numbers in the receiver tab in her messages in its memorized sequence, heart in her throat and face in her hands as she waited anxiously for the anticipated reply.

And when the vibration of her phone signaling Chloe's acknowledgement of her less than suave message resonated in her lap, Beca had snatched the damn thing up and smiled goofily at the playful proclamation that Chloe had no idea who she is and that she had better stop spamming her with provocative messages in the middle of the night lest she report her to the police, followed by a series of giving and endearing emojis.

Beca had typed and retyped at least a dozen versions of a response immediately afterwards, and despite her inward frustrations at the absence of confidence and certainty in her usual self-assured self, she had secretly enjoyed every minute of it.

Beca suddenly feels an affinity for the guy desperate for a relationship with Stacie the week before, empathizing with his need to ensure a continuation and a date, and she instantly feels bad for making fun of him, when—if it had been her and Stacie had been Chloe—she would've done the exact same thing.

If she had had the god-given opportunity to spend time with Chloe, let alone sleep with her, she would've tried everything in her willpower to never let her go as well.

The theatrical image of red tresses fanning magnificently across her dark pillows nearly makes Beca choke on her own spit and miss the green street sign notifying her of her arrival at the turn into the parking lot of the local health office.

She hastily bumps up the right turn signal and throws a glare over her shoulder at the harsh blare of the car horn from the white vehicle behind her. Maneuvering her foot quickly between the acceleration and the brakes, Beca swipes at the steering wheel and swiftly directs her car into the parking spot straight into an empty slot. Cutting off the engine along with the music bluetoothed to her spotify account, she unbuckles her seat belt and reaches for her cellular device, before chancing a glance up at the blocked letters imprinted before her into the side of the building.

"Great, we're here," Stacie grumbles, reaching for the clasp of her own seatbelt, "Time to storm into the place and ask for your doctor out on a date."

Beca furrows her brows at the uncharacteristic sarcasm dripping off her friend's tone. Stacie is usually thrilled at the prospect of hanging out with strangers—especially attractive ones—and wouldn't usually think twice before crashing someone's else's plans. Which had been why she had asked for her to tag along in the first place, to act as an unawkward buffer. Beca shifts in her seat, and for the first time that afternoon, pushes everything else from her mind to properly look at the taller brunette.

Stacie purses her lips, avoiding her attentive and scrutinizing stare, fingers pushing at her hair before clasping at her mask. Beca watches with slight curiosity and concern as Stacie rushes to place the mask over her mouth, effectively hiding the lower half of her face.

Beca tilts her head. "Hey, you okay?"

Hazel green eyes peer indifferently at her through mascara filled eyelashes. "Yeah, are you?"

A frown once again pulls at her lips, only this time not out of consideration for herself, "Don't change the subject, Conrad." Beca places a hand on her friend's arm. "Are you sure you're okay? You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

Stacie raises an eyebrow and gently moves her arm away. "I'm fine, Beca." Then her attention shifts to something over her shoulder, "And even if I don't want to, it's too late."

Beca turns to follow her line of sight and her breath promptly catches in her throat.

Walking towards them, hands gesturing in the air and hair flowing in the wind, is Chloe, laughing and talking with the woman by her side, whom Beca barely spares a thought to, besides the acknowledgement that it was same blonde who had come out of the hallway of doctors' offices last week before Chloe. Beca's eyes trace the angle of Chloe's cheekbones, the curve of her neck, the sway of her hips, the seams of her scrubs, and once again, she finds herself itching to blush and stumble and make a fool out of herself just so she can once again get a taste of the sweet tinkle that is Chloe's laugh.

"Fucking hell."

At the realization that the exclamation didn't come from her—seeing as how her mouth is too busy mimicking the acts of a sea creature out of water—Beca spins around.

Stacie has her arms crossed, staring—almost glaring—at the blonde next to Chloe, her back tense and her chest puffed out, and all at once, Beca gets it.

It all makes sense now, the way Stacie had persistently demanded for more details that day as soon as they had gotten home, the way she had laughed and shaken her head almost exasperatedly at Beca's recollection of her antics, the way she had snatched at her sticker and scoffed almost jealously at the existence of the ten inked numbers, and the way she had shrugged and sniffed at the hard time Beca gave her at the recent lack of potential prospects peppering their topic of conversations in the span of the last seven days.

Stacie likes blondie.

And apparently, hadn't been successful in getting The Hunter what it wants.

Before Beca could even close her mouth to voice something coherent however, Stacie had reached for the door handle and gotten herself out. Beca jerks into motion, snatching off her mask from the cup holder at the center console and snapping the twin bands over her ears, and steps out as well.

Stacie is just rounding the bend of the hood when Beca shuts her driver's side door.

"Posen."

Both doctors falter and twist at the sound of Stacie's growl, and Beca tries not to panic when startled blue eyes meet her gaze. She offers a tentative smile, mentally kicking herself at the fact that Chloe could not see it, and offers a small wave instead.

"Beca?"

Beca's heart lurches, her feet immediately propelling her forward, and she doesn't think that she has ever wished as hard as she is wishing right that moment that she was taller as her short legs closed the distance between them slower than she would have liked. Chloe's face lights up like the sun shining from above and moves forward as well, but was abruptly stopped by an arm thrusted across her chest by her colleague.

"Six feet apart, Chloe."

Chloe blinks, as if she had momentarily forgotten that she had company, and angles her neck to the side, refusing to take her eyes off Beca. Her expression shifts, and somehow—even though the feature itself is hidden from view—Beca can tell that she's pouting. "Aubrey."

Her colleague—Aubrey—is unfazed. "What? Precautions are precautions."

Stacie snorts, coming to a stop inches away from Beca. "Uh huh. And since you're a doctor, that comes first before everything else. Am I right, Dr. Posen?"

Aubrey narrows her eyes, accessing Stacie. "Yes. And if I'm not mistaken, you're Stacie Conrad, correct?"

Stacie puffs out her chest, clicking her heels together. "Interesting to see that you have actually remembered my name, doctor, seeing as how you have refused to speak more than three words in our little interaction last week."

Aubrey lets out a scornful laugh, and retrieves her arm from across the front of Chloe's chest to mirror Stacie's stance. "You mean your flirting, Conrad. It was less of an interaction last week than presumably just another one of your usual episodes of you flirting with a random stranger, with me being professional."

"If you consider berating a patient for trying to shoot her best shot for someone she considers unattainably attractive as being professional, then I would really just want to question how in the world you have still managed to keep your job as a stuck up rule-abiding medical practitioner ."

Beca gulps, the tension sizzling between Stacie and Chloe's colleague adding fuel to the bonfire of nerves stealthily climbing up her body. She shuffles her feet and runs her tongue over the fronts of her teeth, not exactly regretting her decision in having Stacie come along but not exactly proud of herself either, for not having the courage and confidence like Stacie obviously had to go for what she wants, and for having to resort to her brooding friend to act as a buffer just so she could take a minute and sack up and deal with it.

Which is soon going to be non-existent if she isn't going to go for it now.

Beca clears her throat, drawing the attention from all three women. "So, uh…" She rubs at the back of her neck. "You guys wanna go grab something to eat?"

Perspiration seems to bubble into the lines of her palms with each passing second that the following silence ensues, and Beca forces herself not to hyperventilate as she wipes them onto the denim of her jeans.

Chloe is the first to break it, in the form of an amused giggle, and the fabric of her scrubs rustle in the wind as she surges forward, Aubrey apparently being in too much of a shock to halt her this time, and Beca squeaks as Chloe envelops her in a hug.

"I would love to," she whispers into her ear, nuzzling against the side of her neck, the fabric of her mask tickling at the collars of her jacket, and Beca could do nothing else besides stand stock still and let herself be lifted inches into the air.

"We can't," Aubrey sounds like she has just sucked on a particularly bitter lemon, "Lunch involves interacting with these two and taking off our masks, and we can't do that, Chloe. You know that."

Chloe doesn't loosen her hold. In fact, she does the complete opposite, squeezing Beca as tight as she possibly could against her own body, effectively causing every one of her curves to flush against every one of Beca's, and Beca has to literally bite down on her tongue to hold back the whimper threatening to break free. "Then I guess that means you'll have to go home by yourself, Bree, 'cause I don't care."

And for the first time since her momentous encounter with the breathtaking redhead, Beca finds her nervousness morph into something decidedly different, though not any less nerve-wracking.

Excitement.

Holy shit, Chloe wants to go out to lunch with her?

Fuck, and okay, Beca thinks as Chloe's fingertips slide teasingly up the bare skin of her spine, looks like she wants something more than that too.

She almost wishes that Chloe's still wearing gloves, because that would mean that she wouldn't spend the rest of the day wondering about what those doctor-worthy hands could do with the rest of her body straining for her care, her treatment.

Stacie's mocking sneer yanks Beca out from her dirty sewer water fantasies. "And so there you go, doc. What's it gonna be? Are you coming with us or not?"

Beca peeks around the fiery mass that is Chloe's ginger locks to see Aubrey roll her eyes and stomp towards the direction in which she assumes contains the location of her car. Her heart soars, selfishly giddy with the fact that she is one step closer to having a one-on-one date with the redhead in her arms—or more accurately, the redhead whose arms she is in—but then her eyes catch at the expression on Stacie's face and she's opening her mouth, blurting past the jitters blossoming from the warmth of Chloe's touch, "Hey. You should come with us, y'know. We don't bite, and trust me, we are just as careful with this covid shit just as you obviously are."

Aubrey pauses, looks over her shoulder, drops her emerald pools to Chloe, spares a sheepish glance at Stacie, plays with the lanyard in her hand, considers, and then slowly retracts her steps. "Fine."

Beca grins, her satisfaction only increasing tenfold as Chloe pinches at her hips, murmuring, "I could kiss you right now, Becs," directly into the underside of her jaw. Her blood hums, its increasing temperature gradually burning away the remnants of her extrinsic nervousness, and she says, "Later," and belatedly returns Chloe's embrace, her arms wrapping around Chloe's neck.

Because hell yes, Chloe wants to kiss her, and if that isn't a telling indication of her wanting a relationship, then what is?

"Mmm, you can count on it," her doctor agrees, before finally setting her feet back onto the ground, her caring and wandering hands pulling away and her sparkling and flirtatious blues disappearing into a wink.

Beca winks back, the excitement now impossible to maintain, the anticipation now hopeless to control, and she positively twirls around, leading the way to her car.

They all pile in, Stacie once again taking shotgun, and one by one, they all rip away their masks.

Beca couldn't help herself from glancing into the rearview mirror, faltering in her movements at twisting her key into the ignition at the glorious reveal of pink smiling lips, and she flashes her teeth, unwilling to turn to look into the backseat lest she gets too invested into the yearning to just stare at Chloe's face until the end of time.

She backs her car into reverse, and pulls them all out of the parking lot to the small but cozy family restaurant just two blocks down.

The bluetooth speakers finish with the song that it had played last before Beca had shut it down and starts with the opening notes of Hit Me With Your Best Shot by Pat Benatar.

Chloe squeals. "Oh my god, Bree! It's your favorite song!"

Stacie perks up, but doesn't comment even as Aubrey groans. "It's just a song, Chloe. Nothing to be this enthusiastic about."

Beca snickers, picking up on the underlying interest hidden beneath the blonde's thinly veiled mask of disgruntlement, "Are you always this reluctant to show that you actually have feelings, Dr. Posen? 'Cause if you are, I just really wanna know how Chloe can possibly deal with you 24/7, seeing as how she doesn't exactly seem like the type of person to want to hang around with someone walking around all the time with a stick up their ass."

Chloe explodes into a fit of giggles, her feet kicking at the back of Beca's seat, and the sweet melodic tune induces another bout of confidence to surge throughout every nerve ending of Beca's already thrumming body.

Beca had been right; Chloe's laugh is really like a fucking addictive drug.

And as cheesy as it sounds, she is really fucking hooked.

Stacie sighs dramatically. "If that is really the case, then I would just love to see whoever gets the ever-lasting pleasure to retrieve said stick from said ass, seeing as how I kind of find it hard to believe that you are like that 24/7, even during sex."

Chloe laughs even harder, adorable snorts now intermixing with her tinkles of delight, and Beca is appreciative of the fact that she now had to park her vehicle once again because if she hadn't just been handed a set of things to do, she is pretty sure that she would have climbed into Chloe's lap and swallowed the laughs for herself.

As it is, she couldn't, and Beca settles for nibbling on the inside of her cheek and taking extra care to not bump into the Honda in the parking slot to her left.

Aubrey finally speaks, having apparently gotten over her moment of speechlessness at the audacity of two near strangers poking fun at her uptight personality, "I am not reluctant to show that I have feelings. And sex is definitely not a topic I would like to discuss with someone who thinks that it's okay to flirt with a medical professional, let alone one in the middle of a worldwide pandemic. And Chloe, stop laughing, would you? You are not helping."

Chloe gasps for air, "Sorry, Bree, I just-" She dissolves into another round of giggles.

Beca smirks, cutting off the engine. "Are you guys done? 'Cause we're here."

Stacie is already reaching for her seatbelt, "Finally. I'm fucking starving. If I had known that it would take us this long for us to get food, Beca, I would have just gotten it beforehand, and taken it with me when you begged for me to tag along."

Beca opens her mouth, about to give Stacie a warning for her to shut up before Chloe catches on, but the taller brunette is already out the door and the titters of amusement have already come to a halt.

Ah. Damn it.

"I'm going to get out of here as well; get this whole thing over with."

The backseat car door slams, and then it's just her and Chloe.

Alone, in her car.

Shuffling comes from the other side of the backseat, and before Beca knows what is happening, Chloe is poking her head in the space between the two front seats. Red hair spills onto the center console, the ends of it falling into her lap. "What did she mean, that you had to beg for her to tag along?"

Beca finds herself unable to look away from her expressive blue eyes. She finds it implausible to lie. "I hadn't been able to ask you out over the phone, and I had chickened out of showing up all by myself just in case you would refuse when I came to ask you out in person."

Chloe bites at the corner of her lip, Beca's gaze immediately flitting down, "Why did you think that I would refuse?"

Beca licks to moisturize the seam of her mouth, "Because I had been an absolute nervous fucking wreck and you had been just doing your job and giving the shot and god, I had just thought that someone as wonderful and gorgeous as yourself wouldn't possibly want to go out with someone as nervous and idiotic as me and-"

"Stop. Just stop." Chloe splays a hand over the edge of the center console and uses it to swing her body forward, her knee clambering over the cup holders and the emergency brake, Beca scrambling to undo her seatbelt and shift her legs to make room, and she inhales a sharply as Chloe lands into her lap.

Chloe rests her arms on Beca's shoulders and presses their foreheads together, her nose inching forth to deliver an eskimo kiss, "I had wanted you from the moment I first saw you, Beca; that moment in the waiting room where you had tripped over your own feet in your haste to get out of your chair. You had been so adorable and sexy then—not to mention even more so now—and I could just not resist writing down my number on the back of that tinney tiny sticker, just could not resist giving it to you, though I could've easily gotten into big trouble if my boss or Aubrey found out, possibly have even gotten fired. But I had not cared, and I had not regretted my decision or my actions or any of the other amazing details of that day, and I had wished that you would've taken the hint and texted or called me later that night. So don't, Becs; don't ever say that you never stood a chance, because you did, ever since the very beginning, and now I want to smack you for ever thinking that I would not possibly want to go out with you."

Beca stares, dazedly, stupidly, at Chloe's sincere and unwavering gaze, her breath growing increasingly shallow at the way the blue in her eyes seem to widen and soften, her heart swelling thrice in size at the way her lashes seem to flutter and lower, and Beca irrationally feels the need to travel back in time just to shake her last week old self out of her doubts and uncertainty, just so she could wipe that sympathetic and pleading look from Chloe's face, just so she could find herself in her current position sooner and in a much more comfortable place than the driver's seat of her car, preferably in her bed, "You think I'm sexy?"

Stacie's voice reverberates in the forefront of her mind. Were you not listening to me? She sounds like she wants to fuck your brains out.

Does she…?

Chloe moves her mouth ever the more closer, purring, "So so sexy, Rebeca, you have no idea."

Beca chokes on the gust of air she had just sucked in. Nobody had ever used her legal name in that tone of voice. "Chloe."

Chloe giggles, and—because Beca had been itching to find out what it feels like pressed against her mouth, because Beca had been squirming to discover what it sounds like dancing on her tongue, because Beca had had enough of Chloe being a goddamn tease—Beca kisses her.

She gasps, hands immediately going to tangle into the meticulously curled locks of Beca's hair, lips soft and pliant as she quickly comes down from her height of delight, and Beca smirks, arms going around to blanket Chloe's back, smug at the way the glee in her breath automatically gives way into a whimper of desire.

The material of the scrubs on the outside of her thighs shift as Chloe presses closer, the smile on her face fading to accommodate the feverish desperation coating the newly disclosed angle of the kiss, and Beca sighs, allowing herself to get lost into the feel of the sweetness and tenderness that is Dr. Chloe Beale.

Chloe licks at the outline of her bottom lip, the gentle nature of her caring character not allowing herself to be rough even at the heat and urgency of the given moment, and Beca complies, opening her mouth and heeding Chloe's request.

Their tongues slide against one another, curious and exploratory, and Chloe buries her fingers further into Beca's hair, wrapping groups of her dark curls delicately around the gaps of her fingertips and tugging affectionately with each stroke of their tongues.

"Chlo," Beca pulls away to gasp for breath, both to accommodate her lack of oxygen and the shot of arousal. Her hands withdraw from its unannounced position from being under Chloe's scrubs, choosing instead to rub comfortingly against her shoulder blades. "Chlo, we can't do this."

"Hmm," Chloe kisses Beca's neck, pressing her tongue hotly against the jump of her pulse, "Why not?"

"Because. We're making out in the driver's seat of my car, and I want to take you to bed." Beca finds it difficult to concentrate, especially when Chloe dilutes her hips, "And if we don't stop, I might just have to ditch our date and drive off, pulling into a back alley somewhere and taking you in the backseat."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Chloe's teeth are making the faintest of marks on Beca's neck, "I'm sure our date wouldn't mind."

"Did you forget?" Beca's hips rock as an instant reaction of Chloe's mouth sucking to soothe the ache of her mark, "Stacie and Aubrey are in there. If we really leave right now, I'm pretty sure they will rip one other's vocal cords out like wolves."

Chloe pouts, reluctantly peeling her mouth away from its ministrations on her neck, her fingers delivering one last tug before slipping out. "Fine."

Beca breathes a sigh of relief, closing her eyes to the roof of her car. Her heart pounds in her chest, heat still pooling low in her belly, and she strives to get it under control so she doesn't look like an ungratified horny teenager when the moment arrives for her to step into the restaurant.

Soft giggling lips press against hers once again. Beca groans. "Chloe."

"Sorry," she distributes two more twin pecks of quick succession, "You're just so cute, I can't-" Another. "Stop."

"Well, you have to," Beca turns her head to escape a fourth peck, her nerve endings jittering pleasantly at the way Chloe settles for kissing her cheek, "'Cuz like it or not, I'm not having sex with you in my car."

Chloe's licensed doctor's hands brush teasingly at the zipper of her jeans. "Are you sure about that?"

And to think she had worried about not standing a chance.

"Yes." Beca fumbles with the door handle of the car, "I would rather dance naked in the recording studio at work than have my first time with you be in the leather backseat, while our friends waited for us feet away."

Chloe clings to her even as Beca steps out onto the smooth pavement, "I would love to see that."

Beca rolls her eyes skyward, an idiotic smile adorning her face, her fingers reaching for her keys to lock her car, "Of course you would."

Chloe hums, her professional name plate glinting in the late afternoon sun, red tresses fanning across Beca's dark jacket, her hand caressing against the now covered skin of her upper left arm, "Yes. Give me a shot, Beca, and I would do just that."

A/N: Isn't it annoying how I ended up with ten or so pages of a part two when this story was initially marked as a one-shot? Or is it just me? XD

I still think that this'll be the only covid related fanfic that I'm gonna write though; masks and precautions are so particular and time consuming, and I honestly just get so irritated with myself at the edits and corrections that I have to make just to make them not sound too funny.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and if you can, follow me on tumblr under pinkpastels113. I would love to hear what you guys think, and of course, would be happy to take asks, requests, or prompts.

Until next time,

Pastels :))