The accumulation of too much ignoring of assignments and getting too wrapped up in rereading basically everything stopthenrewind has published (giant squishy hug to you for making me feel like a giant puddle of goo with your stories; also, I borrowed one of your plots... What a theif).
P.S. giant apologies to readers of, well, all of my stories. I suck, I know. Give me a week and I will back to my usual updating routine, I swear.
BEGINNING
"Some things, some things just make sense
And one of those is you and I
some things, some things just make sense
and even after all this time
Im into you."
- Still Into You, Paramore
The first thought she has about him isn't even about him.
She's tired; jet legged from the flight across the country, and it doesn't really mix all that well with the 'complete contempt towards her standing here right now' emotion, that has her so on edge she might just have to turn the peppy blonde in front of her into a punch bag.
Deep inside of her, far behind the I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude she's trying to extrude, Beca wants to cry. Never before has she felt quite so out-of-place. Or wrong. Or alone. (For a girl who tends to keep everyone at arms' length, she sure does wish she had someone right about now.)
She tries to pay attention to the blonde, but the tears are sharp as they burn behind her nose and she's trying to focus on not becoming hysterical within the first five minutes of being here in this God forsaken place. For half a second, she wishes she'd asked her dad to pick her up from the airport – she really could not stand out any more with a taxi instead of a parent's car; she can feel people staring - but then her rational side kicks in and she flicks the pesky thought away.
And there's, of course, the car.
He catches her looking his way almost instantly, which she regrets because it's not like she consciously glanced over, but once he twists to face her properly, she can't quite seem to look away.
And there's the first thought.
What kind of place have I walked into?
He carries on singing, but now he's singing at her, with his boyish face and this half smile as he starts to mimic the guitar solo that is almost a tiny bit infectious – or would be, if she wasn't completely weirded out by the whole thing.
Gone as quickly as he'd appeared, she finds herself staring after him. She tries not to focus on the way the whole display makes her smile, just for a moment.
(Which is weird, because she doesn't even like Kansas.)
Jesse.
Jesse.
Jesse…
Hm.
"It's weird," she clarifies out loud.
"Excuse me?"
Beca hadn't really intended on speaking a loud, especially after spending a good few minutes rolling his name around on her tongue, but since she has and he's heard, she goes with it. "Your name. It's weird."
Jesse's poking his head out around the shelves, his dark eyes tracking her as she walks surreptitiously away from him and towards an area that's a little… Safer. "So's yours."
"No it's not."
"My name is no weirder than yours."
Turning on her heel to face him again, she watches him watch her. "Is it short for something?"
They've shared two shifts over five days, and she's guessing the weird look on his face is because this is most likely the first time she's struck up a conversation with him. "Uh, yeah, kinda. James."
The two CDs in her hands clack against each other as she taps them anxiously, oddly intrigued by the guy in front of her that is the only person who seems to have made much of an effort with her. "What's wrong with James?"
"I don't like it."
"Why?" Her eyes narrow. So do his.
"Why are you so interested?"
"I –" But she stops, because she doesn't have a real answer. Twisting on her heel again, she walks to the shelves parallel to him, even though the discs in her hands belong on the other side of the room, where he is. "It doesn't matter."
Jesse doesn't speak up again and she looks instead at the album covers. Yup, they definitely don't belong over here. She stuffs them in anyway, figuring she can find a way to come back later and correct it.
"Harry Potter," he blurts, so alarmingly close to her that she actually squeaks a little as she jumps back, knocking right into him. "Oh, sorry."
Once she's fixed herself and shaken off the tingles in her fingers from the fright, she faces him properly and pointedly ignores the giant grin that is engulfing his face. "What's Harry Potter got to do with it?"
His shoulder lifts in a lazy shrug, the other arm rising to slide a bunch of CDs into a gap on the top shelf above her. He dwarfs her, and she thinks he does it on purpose. "I was, like, ten when I first read them, and I… There was a girl in my class called Lily, and everyone teased us about Harry Potter's parents, and I didn't really like Lily all that much."
A smile pulls at the corners of her mouth. "So… You changed your name?"
"Yes."
He says it with such ease that she can't quite keep the smile under control as she laughs at the bemused expression he gives her. "You really are a weirdo, aren't you?"
The grin on his face reaches maximum capacity. "Yes."
It occurs to her at precisely 10:02pm that she actually… Well, she kinda digs on this guy.
It's weird.
(And she doesn't know why the word 'digs' is even in her head, but it seems to be the only appropriate word she can think of.)
Jesse's unwavering persistence towards her is about as confusing as it is flattering, and okay, his whole, I-will-not-rest-until-you-accept-me-as-your-friend thing might actually be starting to work… Just enough that she had mentioned him in passing to her mother as "her friend…ly guy person from the station" (not that she has any intention of letting him know his status has changed; she selfishly quite likes the way he always seems to be trying to find a way to make her laugh, and the way she can bounce off him and he doesn't just take it, he gives as good as he gets).
The point being, she hasn't really noticed that she actually sort of likes him until this moment.
(No, she doesn't like him that way. But she can tolerate him. Which is more than can be said for about 97% of the college's population.
Anyway.
Beca knows the time because it's when Justin is halfway through reciting the rules of this 'Riff Off' thing, that Jesse catches her eye (and subsequently holds it for most of the evening) and mouths those four little words.
I'm taking you down.
She mouths back in her own typical way, but she does care. She cares that she likes him, she cares that he's taken an interest, and she cares that suddenly all she wants to do is beat him, because if he wins this thing, she'll never hear the end of it.
No way is she letting that happen.
When Jesse leans towards her two nights after, when his gaze keeps flickering between her eyes and her lips, and when they seem to be suspended in this weird, perfect moment, Beca is surprisingly ready for whatever it is that's happening.
Until she's not.
She overthinks it, as she does pretty much everything, and within half a second her mind has breezed through a hundred possibilities of how this is going to end, how much it will end up hurting, and has calculated the risk that closing the tiny gap between their faces will ultimately destroy the only real friendship she's actually developed in her few months at Barden.
It's not worth it.
She's sure of it.
So she pulls away, because the flicker of disappointment she sees in his face and feels in her gut is a lot less intense than the heartbreak that kissing him will most likely lead to.
Sitting in the station booth should probably feel better than this. She should be celebrating that Luke had broken his own rule to allow her here, playing music – music she's made – and being in control. Even if there's probably only a handful of people listening, it's enough. She's happy, really; she's more than that. Elated. Ecstatic. Overjoyed.
The station feels empty without him.
It's all she can think about, staring at the queued up music and the view of the thousands of CDs she's been stacking for months now. With him. With Jesse. And about an hour before it had occurred to her why the picture in front of her is so wrong; why she's been miserable ever since she walked away from everything that had kept her grounded at this ridiculous school.
(Yes, the Bella's count. She'd become surprisingly attached to them, too.)
Beca had liked him.
Like really, really liked him. In a way that probably was actually quite unhealthy.
And she thinks that in past tense because she's now painfully aware that it's so much more than that. That Beca actually is past tolerating him; she's past liking him as a friend; she is past being into him in that way that makes her smile a little in the mornings. She has genuine, messing-up-your-heart, goo-goo eyed feelings that seem to crop up when he's around or when he texts or when he's just playing on her mind (which is a lot more often than she'd like to admit).
Except he's not around anymore, and he doesn't text or call or anything anymore.
All she's left with is his memory, infecting her and working its way into her DNA and changing her up into this person she doesn't even recognise anymore.
A door is shut in her face.
So she turns to her own metaphorical door, the one she had slammed shut on the Bella's. Well, she does that after visiting another door; her fathers. He turns out to be surprisingly helpful for a man who walked out on his daughter.
Point being; after Chloe knocks on this metaphorical door (in the form of a text about the Bella's being back on for nationals) and Beca has finally gotten off her backside and opened it (by biting the bullet and confronting them at rehearsals), she is surprised at how warmly her reappearance is welcomed. Even by Aubrey, who – in an either bigger surprise that no one had been expecting – relinquishes her death grip over the group to her.
But Beca isn't happy with the whole 'one door closes, another opens' thing, so she makes it her mission to use the six days they have to plan and rehearse for nationals (gulp) to her complete advantage.
If there's one thing you can say about Beca Mitchell, it's that she's determined.
And right now, she's determined to show Jesse she's worth something, that she made him wait but that she's ready now, and she's prepared to spend her whole life apologising for how she acted if it means she gets to have him back in her life because he's worth it. Jesse is completely worth anything she's had to go through, that she'll have to go through, because at the end of it all, he'll be the one standing by her side.
She hopes.
"So this is it."
Beca glances up at him with her lips pressed together, trying not to mirror the strange mix of emotions in his expression. She knows this is a big day; that it's a weird day, but she tries not to let the intensity of it overwhelm her. She tries to stay detached, to stay safe.
It isn't working, but she lies to herself to feel better.
"This is it." Her arms hang at her side, and she wonders what to do. This is all such new territory to her.
Luckily, Jesse is pretty damn good at playing to these kind of situations perfectly, so when he steps forward and wraps his arms around her in a hug, she lets herself cling to him. It's weird, but a good weird. She could get used to this, she thinks.
"I can't believe this year is over," he whispers in her ear, making her shiver.
She nods and holds him just a little closer. "It's definitely been… Something?"
"Unusual," he agrees.
"Peculiar."
"Terrifying."
"A learning curve."
"Thrilling."
"Life changing," she whispers, pulling back to look at his face, his soft smile so close that his breath washes over her. Life changing is definitely an appropriate summary of her year. Barden has been life changing. The Bella's have been life changing. Jesse has been life changing.
She can't bring herself to hate it, though. (Even if it sounds completely cheesy and ridiculous.)
A hand comes up to cup her jaw and he kisses her, so softly that she finds her heart fluttering rather quickly. Everything he does seems to affect her so strangely, and she's not used to it at all but it's exciting and now she's allowed him in - now she has let him see her, that excitement is a good thing. It's still terrifying, but this fear is a good kind of fear.
"You know, for the record, I'm really glad you changed your mind," he murmurs, still holding her cheek because, in a few minutes, he won't be able to do that for so very long. She lets the feel of his skin on hers imprint itself in her memory.
"What do you mean?"
"To let us be… Us." He brushes his fingers over her cheek bone and through her loose hair, mirroring the smile she can't quite suppress despite how completely cheesy he is (she kind of likes the cheesy, though. She thinks she might just enjoy having it around). "You could have left us as we were, but you took a risk, and I'm really glad."
"Well, it's all part of my elaborate plan to take down the Trebles from the inside."
"Mhm. I'm glad you're not the only one with ulterior motives."
Her smile falters. "What?"
"I want to persuade you to go back to the old uniform. You in that flight attendant outfit with the tight skirt –" He's cut off by her hand slapping his chest when he bites his lip and tries to look over her shoulder and down her back.
"You are such a pig."
Jesse pulls her hair playfully and she gasps. "Yeah, well I'm your pig." He pauses, staring back at her incredulous expression. "That sounded… Sexier in my head…"
"Yeah," she splutters around her laugh, "Because there's a context that sentence can actually be sexy in."
"Okay, okay." Jesse holds his hands up defeat, stepping away from her but she follows him, determined to spend every second she can as close to him as possible. Arm snaking back around her back, he kisses her forehead, lips lingering as she closes her eyes peacefully. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Depends."
"Why did you wait?" Tilting her head back, she frowns, so he elaborates, "At the finals. You did the song, but why'd you wait?"
Beca just stares, waiting for the moment that he realises the answer, his mouth forming a little 'O'. She lets her lips skim over his as she attempts to diffuse any residual tension. "Your mom offered me a ton of money to do it, and I really wanted these… New..."
He grins at her with that look in his eyes until she teeters out, and she wants to kiss him again but neither wants to make the final move to close the impossibly tiny gap between them. "You know you basically just admitted to being a prostitute."
She looks at him through her eyelashes, raising a coy eyebrow as his eyes dilate. "Hey, if Julia Roberts can find her Richard Gere, so can I."
He groans, tightening his grip on her hips. "Why do I find it so hot when you reference movies."
"Because you're a total nerd."
He gives in – as they both knew he would – and his lips are hard against hers, letting all the emotions that can't be formed into words flow between them. She will miss him; will miss the first person to try - the first person to succeed. Their months together since finals have been perfect, but it's fragile and so new that she worries if they will last the summer apart. But then she remembers all they have made it through already, and she thinks they just might be able to work it out.
A few minutes later, when his phone has buzzed persistently three times in his pocket, he finally lets her go, placing a last lingering kiss on her lips before closing the door behind him. Beca watches him leave, staring out the window at his car disappearing from sight, and though she misses him a little already, she knows that this time, Jesse will be coming back to her.
If you ever hear someone whispering about how Beca watches Jesse sleep, then slap them immediately. Because she doesn't. That rumour isn't even a little bit true.
It's more just… Observing. She likes to make sure he's still breathing, and her hand is only over his heart because she wants to check its still beating; checking his pulse properly would be too awkward to explain if he woke up.
And she's not even watching that closely. It's just that sometimes she can't sleep for any multitude of reasons, and it's nice to just know he's there beside her when she sleeps over, or he sleeps over… Honestly, she can't remember the last time they spent the night apart. Maybe last month. She tries not to think too hard about that.
Besides, they're generally fully/partly clothed. It's not like they're at it like rabbits or anything - at least not as much as Stacie claims. It's more due to things like, they study late and she can't be bothered to walk back to her room, or he somehow talks her into watching a movie and they fall asleep on her bed, or they're just too comfy to bother over kicking the other out. It's convenient (and his bed is way more comfortable than hers). There's something about being around him that puts her at ease, and she's not put her finger on it yet but she doesn't question it; it's too pleasant to start overthinking.
The point being, she does not watch him while he sleeps - she knows he does though. On more than a few occasions, she's sleepily opened one eye to find him staring at her unabashedly, his fingers rubbing little circles into her lower back. She's given up on telling him off for it. Now she tends to just stare right back.
Somewhere along the way during sophomore year, her priorities seem to get a little muddled up.
School work becomes more important, now she's signed herself up to maybe actually leaving college with some form of degree. She studies, a lot, because she missed out on a lot during the first year and apparently that stuff is actually important. Thanks to her faculty connections, she gets a bit of extra help from the professors, and Jesse seems to make it his personal mission to help her out as much as he can towards her major of Music Production.
The Bella's kind of take over her world – but in a really good way. Being the "Main Bella Bitch", as Amy has so lovingly nicknamed her, comes with a serious amount of responsibility and an even larger amount of admin work – she actually feels pretty sorry for Aubrey, and can see why the girl had so many stress-related issues. She struggles alone for a while, trying to juggle everything in her schedule best she can, until Stacie knocks on her door the night before Regionals and gives her an offer Beca simply can't refuse.
Stacie takes over choreography (under Beca's supervision still, because some of the more… provocative moves don't really need to be seen outside of a strip club) and takes half of the work load, which actually allows Beca to breathe properly, especially after she whittles down her hours at the station. The workload is split even further when Cynthia Rose offers to tackle any financial related paperwork. "Date Night" is reinstated, though she and Jesse normally just end up in the campus diner, laughing over a plate of nachos.
Both groups breeze through regionals and the semi-finals, the Trebles benefitting from Unicycle's relaxed attitude better than any of them thought they would, but they're no match for the Bella's come finals. Still, the Trebles aren't in any way bitter, instead helping the girls celebrate. The way Jesse smiles at all night, proud as can be, keeps a steady flush on her cheeks but she doesn't mind it, really. Their year together has been a great one, and that night, she starts to let herself believe that they might even have a good few more.
Of course, their relationship is not without its problems. Their first major blow up comes a week after regionals, when they visit London to perform at a benefit held with their partner university just outside the city:
Her hand is raised before he can even open his mouth to speak. "Save it, I don't want to hear it."
"Beca, wait –"
"Ooh he's gonna get it now!" Kolio singsongs from behind them as the Treble's file out of the police station – though Beca's rage is probably a hundred times scarier than anything they faced in there last night.
"Shut up," Beca and Jesse snap at him, and Beca storms back to the minibus ahead of them as Amy opens the doors and shrinks away from Beca's scowl.
"All of you, on. You're on lockdown for the rest of the trip." Beca points into the minibus and glares pointedly at each of them, making sure it's clear that just because she has no actual power over them doesn't mean she won't use her role as Main Bella Bitch to make sure all of the girls help with this demand.
Jesse is pouting as he tries to slink past her, but she grabs him roughly by the collar. "Not you; we're having a little chat first."
Dragging him a little ways away, she keeps her lips pressed tightly together as he begins to grapple for an excuse. "I'm sorry, Bec, it was a total mistake, I don't even know how to happened – I think Unicycle talked us into it – it just got out of hand and –"
"Jesse," she hisses angrily, eyes wild with fury, "you defiled a national monument!"
He grimaces. "Defiled isn't the word I'd use –"
"Do you have any idea how much trouble you are in?" she demands as she punches his arm. "You know that you could get suspended, right? Or worse, expelled…"
The corner of Jesse's lips twitches so she hits him again.
"This isn't funny, Jesse! You got arrested for being drunk and disorderly in another country!"
"Bec, come on, it's really not that bad," he reasons calmly, placing his hand on her arm, "Let's just go back to the hotel and we can talk about this properly when you've calmed down."
Beca sees red. "Calm down? Calm down? Oh my - I'd strangle you if it weren't stupid to commit an offense right by a police station."
"It was a drunken mistake –"
Beca scoffs, tucking her windswept hair behind her ear and crossing her arms against the chill that creeps up her spine. "Just because the legal drinking age is lower here doesn't mean you can just go out and get completely off your face!"
"You were with us too!" he splutters.
"Until you abandoned us!"
"You said you were fine on your own, we just wanted to have a look at some other places!"
Her eyebrows rise in feigned shock. "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought it was because you were looking for more girls to hit on."
"Why would I do that? I have you." He tiptoes closer, rubbing his hands up her arms but she bats them away.
"Not for very much longer."
He shouts after her as she turns to storm back to the bus, "Beca, come on. Bec, really, you can't be serious –"
"Damn right I'm serious!" Beca spins on her heels, glaring resolutely at him. "Do you have any idea how much it costs to bail ten apparent children out of jail?! Ashley had to offer money from her trust fund to pay for you all!"
Jesse just stares at her helplessly. "I… I'm sorry."
"You better be." Beca is mortified to realise there are actually tears stinging the backs of her eyes, so she looks away and points at the bus, the anger behind her voice dissipating with each syllable. "Just get on the bus so we can leave."
Beca doesn't speak to him for the rest of the day, determined to prove her point that he is acomplete idiot, and she manages it until late that night when he sneaks into their hotel room and perches of the empty side of the bed, his hand gently lying on her calf under the sheets.
"Beca? You awake?"
She stares at the wall, unmoving, the silence expanding between them until she croaks out a simple, "No."
"Okay." Another pause, and the mattress shifts as he crosses his legs underneath him. "You were worried about me."
"No."
He tries again, "You were scared."
"No."
"I didn't come back, and you didn't know why."
A tear streaks down her already stained face, but she keeps quiet, clutching the corner feather pillow desperately. Jesse eventually begins to move, lying down behind her, his hand moving to her hip, and they lie like that for what feels like forever, until her eyes are too heavy to fight and she rolls over into his body, burrowing her face into his chest and letting him hold her close. They fall asleep in a cloud of unspeakable emotion, but maybe things will be better come morning.
"Simply having-"
"Jesse –"
"A wonderful Christmas time!"
"Jesse –"
"Snow is falling, all around me –"
"It's Georgia, there is no –"
"Children playing! Having fun!"
Beca ducks from under his arm, standing perfectly still as her slightly oblivious (and definitely drunk) boyfriend continues without her. They have spent the evening partying with their fellow aca-people (Aubrey had been dragged along by Chloe; it made for an eventful night of mockery that is now sticking in her head) before they leave for home the next morning. Jesse - who is the biggest light weight Beca has ever met - had to be forcibly removed from the karaoke machine, and when he tried to hug her former captain and current friend Aubrey, Beca knew it was time to put him to bed.
She crosses her arms and waits, ashamed that it takes a good half a minute for him to realise his arm is no longer trapping her to his side. He turns, the most adorably confused expression on his face, and she bites her lip hard to keep herself from smiling and rushing back to his side. He has made her soft over their year and a half together, sure, but not that soft.
"Beca?" He wobbles back towards her, his feet following the line of the paving stones like a tight wire. Taking a sudden interest in the cloudy night's sky, she pays him no attention (even when he stumbles, gracelessly falling to one side), her toes tapping impatiently against the ground.
He is so quiet that she doesn't notice him invading her personal space until he has her hips between his hands, lips grazing her forehead. On instinct she leans into his touch, failing to keep up her rouse, waiting for the usual grovelling that will most definitely end in a spectacular kiss. (Not that she pretends to be mad him at regularly to get these kisses, oh no. That's definitely not a thing.)
However, Jesse has other plans. Before she can register what is happening, he's gripped her hips tight and thrown her over his shoulder, continuing his loud singing over her surprised squeal as the world flips upside down.
"Jesse Swanson!" she shrieks. "Put me down this instant!" She pummels her fists into his back, flailing her feet to no avail. His grip is determined and secure.
"It was Christmas Eve babe…In the drunk tank! An old man said to me, won't see another one…"
"Jesse let me go!"
"Only if you sing along!"
She huffs. "You cannot be serious right now!"
"And then he sang a song, the Rare Old Mountain Dew. I turned my face away… And dreamed about you!"
"You're insane! Put me down!" she yells, trying to stop herself checking out his butt from the new angle. His only response is to keep singing - off key - and to adjust her on his shoulder, making her yelp again.
"Got on a lucky one. Came in eighteen to one! I've got a feeling, this year's for me and you…"
There is no way out of this, she knows. Most people have already returned home for the holidays so no one will likely hear her screams. Her phone is in her pocket, inconveniently jammed between his neck and her thigh. And even if she can somehow call her friends, she knows none of them will come to her aid. They'll think this is cute.
So she swallows her pride, closes her eyes, and does as she is told.
"So happy Christmas, I love y-"
"No!" he cries, smacking her backside with his free hand. She squeals (she really needs to get a grip on that) and growls at him. "It's not your bit yet!"
Beca rolls her eyes but lets him continue, much to her chagrin. She won't let him know that this is all rather amusing to her; that she actually kind of enjoys this display of half manly, half ridiculous Jesse-ness; she really shouldn't encourage the sexy manhandling (or maybe she should, because his strong arms wrapped around her thighs and this new view of him is really something else).
"So happy Christmas, I love you baby! I can see a better time…When all our dreams come true."
She rolls her eyes again and begins to mumble along, embarrassed. "They've got cars big as bars, they've got rivers of gold."
"Louder!"
"But the wind goes right through you; It's no place for the old! When you first took my hand on a cold Christmas Eve, you promised me Broadway was waiting for me!" She turns up her own volume, hating how this is almost fun to do. "You were handsome –"
"You were pretty! Queen of New York City!" he cuts in, reaching the door of Baker Halls, fumbling with the door handle as he tries to keep Beca safely on his shoulder.
"When the band finished playing, they howled out for more. Sinatra was swinging, all the drunks they were singing. We kissed on the corner then danced through the night," they sing together as she smacks the beat on the back of his thighs and feels his chuckle vibrate through her stomach.
"The boys of the NYPD choir were singing 'Galway Bay'. And the bells are ringing out for Christmas day!" Jesse climbs the stairs with a little difficulty, their voices echoing around them, blending together, slightly off key. Beca blames her behaviour on all the blood rushing to her head.
As they acapella the backing tune, Jesse finally lets her down by her door, but before she can get her bearings or wipe the smile off her face, he's backed her against the wall and is invading her personal space again, hips pressing into hers. He enjoys doing that, she's noticed; invading her little bubble and making her forget her train of thought.
Beca's singing teeters out as she sees the intensity of his gaze and finds her hands dancing up his arms, around his neck, into his hair. He makes no other move than to just stare at her, and with the frustration of someone who has just been forcibly carried home on her drunk boyfriend's shoulder, she tugs his lips to hers, kissing him hard.
The length of his body presses her further against the wall and she fights back the moan growing in her throat. Jesse takes advantage of the moment, his tongue delving into her mouth. The moan escapes and she digs her nails into his scalp, arching into him as a firm hand runs down her back and slides past the waistband of her jeans. The chill of his fingers makes her hiss and his other hand makes its way into her hair, bunching it tightly in his fist as he bites down on her neck.
Unsatisfied, she flips him, knowing he will fight her back. He pushes off the wall and aims at the opposite, and Beca takes the opportunity to wind her legs around his waist, gripping him tightly with her thighs as he groans into her shoulder. She pulls his lips back to hers, her whole body vibrating in excitement. Her hands grasp at his back, trying to find any way to somehow bring him impossibly closer, his shirt riding up so much that she tugs to take it off altogether.
She doesn't know how he manages it, but he gets her door open, and they stumble towards the bed. She squeaks as he drops her to the mattress, his bare chest quickly within reach for her to explore, his shirt forgotten in the hallway.
His first uttering of those three words comes, in true Jesse fashion, during the viewing of a movie. Its difficult to remember the title; she just knows that he whispers them in her ear in time with his favourite character, and she never sees the ending because they are otherwise occupied.
Her first time takes a little longer - two months and five days, to be exact - and is a complete accident. They're sitting in the branches of a tree, hidden from the rest of the world, and he's telling her this ridiculous story that makes her laugh so hard that the words just slip out.
"I love you."
It takes him almost two years to convince her, but finally Beca lets him drag her to his hometown to meet his parents.
It takes about five seconds to screw it up.
It's not her fault, not really (okay, so it is a little bit); she ends up arguing with Jesse halfway through the five hour drive, a fight that starts out over something tiny and pathetic and then, spurred by boredom and the fact Jesse seems to plan to let her wet herself than pull over as a service station, the whole thing turns into a complete car wreck (very nearly almost literally).
A truck that apparently comes from nowhere swerves dangerously close as it pulls into their lane, and Jesse freaks out enough that Beca demands he pull over and they switch seats. He consents under a violent threat, and by the time they reach the Swanson residence, the only talking they've done in two hours is when Jesse gives her directions.
"Beca," Jesse ventures tiredly as they pull into his street, "We need to talk about this."
"Nothing to talk about," she replies in a low tone, looking out closely for number 36 as a means to keep her distracted.
"You really want to meet my family when we're like this?"
"No, Jesse," she spits out, "I don't want to meet your family – at all. You know I don't so what are we even doing here?!"
But rather than snap at her like she expects, his face goes from hurt to a long look of sudden understanding, the change so confusing that she shifts awkwardly in her seat as she comes to stop outside of the house Jesse had grown up in. "Is that what this is about?" he finally muses. "You're nervous about meeting them."
Beca stares at the typical suburban home, watching the curtains twitch and feeling that awful, gut-wrenching feeling in her gut spark to life again. "No."
Jesse doesn't seem to believe her. "I've known you for three years now, Bec, give me a little more credit than that."
"I…" She tries to carry on speaking, but she can't, so she snaps her jaw shut until she's found the words. "What if they don't like me?"
"Impossible," he says immediately, laying his hand over hers on the steering wheel. "I'm told I'm a great judge of character; if I like you, so will everyone else."
Beca turns to look at him, swallowing thickly when she finds him closer than she expects. "Promise?"
"I pinkie swear." He smiles at her before kissing her softly, and she thinks she might just get through this - she can cope with a week around his parents and maybe she can even get them to like her –
Expect they get a little… Distracted.
And somewhere in the process of seeking intimacy to reassure herself and Jesse's general overenthusiasm around her, his hand ends up on her knee and somehow that hits the wrong pedal because they lurch forward.
Straight into a street light.
"Shit!" she squeaks in panic, immediately pulling Jesse's face away to check him over. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, you?" he asks in a daze, eyes flickering between her face and the front of the car, but Beca doesn't reply; she's too busy unclipping her seatbelt to check the damage of the concertinaed bonnet outside, smoke billowing out of the engine.
"Shit shit shit shit shit!" Beca yelps as she runs her fingers through her hair.
"Oh my God! Are you kids okay?!"
"Does this look okay?!" Beca says helplessly, full attention on the damage to the bumper. "Oh fuck your mother is going to kill me!"
A coughing alerts her enough to look up, and Beca pales at the sight of a short, middle aged women beside Jesse, staring at the scene with horrified eyes.
"Beca, this is my mom," Jesse says as seriously as he can, but his nostrils are flaring with the effort to not laugh at the expression on her face. "Mom, this is my Beca."
Beca glances helplessly between them, convinced that she's definitely screwed this up before it's even begun. She knew this was a bad idea; now look at them. "Mrs Swanson," Beca finally says in a shaky voice, holding out her trembling hand towards her. "So nice to meet you."
Jesse's mom accepts her hand cautiously, attempting a smile. "Likewise."
"Beca your uh…" Jesse taps his lip. "You're bleeding."
Beca dabs at her bottom lip, retracting her hand to find a small amount of blood, and she glares at him as the nostril flaring starts again. The idiot had bitten her, and apparently he knows it too.
"I'll um, I'll call the shop," Mrs Swanson says awkwardly, pointing towards the house and rushing away in her house slippers. Jesse snorts on his laughter as he steps towards Beca, letting her collapse into his chest as she groans loudly in despair.
"You know," Jesse says around his chuckling, "I think she likes you."
You know that feeling you get, when you have this giant amount of work to do and it's all piled up, and there's not enough time in the world to get it done - never mind in a day - and there's that quiet little voice in the back of your head that is whispering "why bother? If you're not going to finish, why even start?" and you know you shouldn't listen… But there's so many other things you could be doing – like catching up on your favourite TV show, or getting a start on that pile of books under your bed that you've been promising yourself you'll get around to but never do – and really, you're just tired and fancy a day spent moulding the couch cushions into the perfect shape for your body…
Yeah, that feeling.
(And if you say you don't know it, you're lying.)
Well, Beca has that right now.
And she's trying, she really is… But that forced effort isn't getting her anywhere. She'd much rather be… Well, she'd rather be doing anything really. Anything is better than the hundreds of tabs open, full of spreadsheets and complicated words and pages of writing so long that the scroll bar is infinitely tiny and absolutely no pictures.
Really, would it kill them to throw in a little jpeg every once in a while? Just to keep people like herself from slamming their foreheads against their desk until their brains are splayed out for the world to see?
"Finals angst?" Jesse walks through the front door to find her on his living room floor, textbooks and lecture notes and all mannerisms of utter nonsense spread out across the coffee table and the floorboards around her.
"Is it possible to drown in useless knowledge?" she groans unhappily, watching him throw his jacket and keys on the table by the door and hopping over the arm of the couch to sit behind her. Immediately, his thumbs are digging into her shoulders, working at the tension there as she moans appreciatively.
"You're gonna be great," he mumbles into her ear. "I can see it now; Beca Mitchell, graduating top of her class."
She rolls her eyes, though it might be due more to Jesse finding a particular spot that makes her whole body feel like goo. "You're going to be bitterly disappointed then."
"In you? Never."
Beca bites her lip against another moan, the pain as he eases the tension s somehow feeling so good. "Jesse," she sighs heavily. "I've been thinking."
His thumbs pause for just a moment. Cautiously, he urges her on, "Okay…"
Beca turns to face him despite her body's protest to let him carry on doing whatever it is he's doing to make her feel so relaxed. Hesitantly she watches him for a moment, before asking unintelligibly, "CanwejustacceptthatIliveherenowplease?"
The corner of his mouth twitches. "Excuse me?"
She exhales pointedly, pulling herself up so she's leaning into his lap, playing with the hem of his shirt as she speaks more clearly. "When are you going to officially ask me to move in?"
Jesse looks at her in genuine surprise. "I thought you'd already done that."
"What?" Beca frowns. "No, I still have a room at Amy's." And she catches herself again, for the third time that week, referring to her technical place of residence as Amy's rather than hers - to go along with the way she has been calling Jesse's apartment "home" for… Well, she's not sure how long, really, but considering basically all of her stuff is here anyway and she's not actually stayed in her technical bed for about two months at the very least…
"No you don't," Jesse says slowly, "She rented it out to that new Bella last month."
"Tanya," Beca corrects automatically, before registering what he's said and balking in surprise. "What?! But I'm still paying rent!"
"Well." Jesse shrugs, his fingers absently running up her arm. "This is Amy we're talking about."
Her eyebrows knitting in confused concern, she asks, "Did everyone know but me that we live together then?"
Jesse nods, his lips pressed tightly together to try and stop himself laughing – he fails, and she pouts childishly as she drops her forehead to his thigh, realising she has been fretting for nothing. "This isn't funny, Jesse!"
"Yes, it actually kinda is." He pulls her chin gently until she's looking up at him again and he kisses her as he sniggers at her appalled expression. "Relax, Bec, it's not that big a deal."
"Yes it is!" she wails, throwing herself into his lap and burying her face in his neck. His arms lock around her as he continues to laugh, and eventually her dismay at the whole thing becomes pretty funny because she starts to laugh with him, the two of them quickly falling into hysterics against the back rest of the couch.
"I can't believe you got so worked up over this," he chuckles after he's managed to calm down a little.
"I can't believe no one said anything to me…" She sighs. "I'm an idiot."
Jesse continues to smirk at her. "Yes, you are."
"Have you ever thought about, you know, getting married and stuff?"
The hesitant question catches her completely off guard, and she drops the silky fabric of her graduation gown like it's on fire, letting it fall back to skimming her ankles as she stares wide-eyed at him in the mirror. "Wh – No – Are you asking?"
Jesse is lying on their bed, staring at the ceiling so she can't gage his emotional state properly, but she does see him give a half-shrug and he stops tossing his graduation cap for tomorrow into the air. "No, I… I was just curious, I guess."
"Okay," she says lamely, having no idea what else to say.
Too nervous to control himself, Jesse begins spouting out nonsense to the light fixture. "It was just a thought – Yeah, like – I don't think we're particularly ready for – And we've not even moved to LA yet – I mean I just thought – It might not even be us, together, getting hitched – Well, but; we're good yeah? Like we're steady, we're great, we love each other – That's all that really matters, right? We don't need to – I was just… thinking in terms of… Progression."
Beca hovers over him, having gotten tired of his rambling and instead climbed on top of him, and she gently presses a kiss into the curve of his neck to get him to shut up. "Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?" she asks in amusement.
Jesse's breathing is shallow as she rests her chin on her hands that lie on his chest. Somehow taking this as an invitation to pursue the topic she wants nothing more than to pretend he never bought up, he asks again, "So? Have you?"
She sighs. "Honestly? No, not really."
Jesse's hand skims over the material of her gown that covers her back, the rest tangled between them, and she can see the distance in his eyes, how he's lost in his own thoughts and barely registering her lips inching slowly towards his. "Why?" he questions suddenly, and she sighs once more, dropping her forehead on his collarbone.
"Jesse…" she whines when he pokes her just below the ribs. "We are not having this discussion."
"Okay," he concedes, dropping a kiss to her hair. "No more talking about it."
But he doesn't say anything for another few minutes, and seems reluctant to join in any activities that she tries to engage him to take his mind off it, so after the fourth try to get him to remove her shirt, she huffs heavily and sits back on her heels, hands braced against his stomach as she looks down at him with the strangest feelings curdling in her gut.
"Fine, lets talk about it."
"Talk about what?"
"Don't play stupid." Beca swings a leg over him so she can lean against the wall and he can sit up.
"Bec, if you don't want to –"
"I do," she lies, avoiding his gaze to stare instead at the bedroom door. "Come on, lets talk. I'll make it real easy. No, I have not thought about marriage, nor do I want to because I don't plan on ever getting married. And while we're at it, we might as well talk about children! Because you should probably know that I don't intend on giving up my body to another human being for nine months, only for it come out screaming and pooping and hungry, and then spend the rest of my life trying to make it an adequate person for society!"
She doesn't know why she's suddenly angry, but the feeling wells up inside of her and partially takes control, until Jesse takes her hand and rubs his thumb over her knuckles soothingly.
"I'm sorry, Bec," he says gently a few moments later. "I didn't mean to upset you; I was just wondering, it wasn't supposed to be all serious."
Her head drops to his shoulder and she takes his hand in hers, interlocking their fingers loosely. "No, I'm sorry, I don't mean to snap… I – I guess talking about stuff like… like marriage… It's weird for me."
"That's okay." Jesse presses his lips to her hair. "You don't have to be ready for anything like that – Marriage is a big deal, and we're still only really kids ourselves. College is safe for us, but in a few weeks we're moving in together, properly this time, in a whole other state and… I don't know how our relationship will translate there, and I don't know if we're going to realistically last forever but… I do know that I want us to. I can't imagine being with anyone else – loving anyone else – and I like to think that someday, we'll take that step together."
Beca lifts her head to look at him properly, her eyes glistening and what she strongly suspects is her heart trapped in her throat, and she can see the sincerity and the sureness he has over what he's said, that her narrowed lips begin to turn up into a weak smile. "You really think so?" she whispers.
"I love you, Bec, and I have no intention of ever letting you go," he says almost casually, if not for the intensity behind his gaze. Unable to come up with any other way, she leans forwards to capture his lips with her own, squeezing their joint hands and using the other to cup his cheek.
"Maybe," she starts hesitantly when she pulls back a little, "Maybe one day, we can talk about it properly." Jesse kisses her again, a delighted grin spreading across his face, and she bites her lip hard against her own. "But not now," she says resolutely, patting his knee and shimmying off the bed. "We have dinner reservations with everyone and we're already going to be late as it is."
He groans, trying to tug her back by her hand, but she resists and eventually, a few minutes later, she gets him out of the door, their hands linked with matching smiles as they walk towards his car.
"By the way," she says after they've climbed in, "I love you too."
Jesse smiles serenely at her. "I know."
So. Thoughts? Yay? The second part of the story will be focused on life after college, though I don't have really any of it written so I can't promise an amazingly quick update. It'll be three parts, I think, and I'm so looking forward to writing an interpretation of their life together over many, many years. If there's anything you want to see happen, then by all means let me know.
