Author's Note:

Hey everyone! A huge thank you to the great support I've received for this fic. It's my first full length and any feedback is greatly appreciated. Drop a comment, favorite, follow, whatever. I really really look forward to going on this journey with you!

-Vanguard.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing from Pitch Perfect or their franchise. I'm just a college student with an idea.

Chapter Two: The Uninvited

Looking back now, there were all of these colorful flags I made the decision to ignore. Being as blind as I was, everything became a rainbow, but my eyes have been stripped of the tattered ribbons into a world of blacks and whites. This isn't a complaint of monotony, only an acknowledgment of how things have changed and how the grass is no longer greener, only grey.

After squeezing past and cutting through the group of intoxicated ladies, Beca finally made it to the bar. The bartender took one look at Beca and dropped what he was doing in favor of servicing the DJ. In the few minutes Beca had been excused, his blonde hair had lost its meticulous style and fallen, pasted to his forehead. These girls must have done a number on him.

"Hey man, take a breather. Everything's alright. Can I get a vodka cranberry, double?"

He took a centering breath, nodded his thanks, and went about his work. Beca took this as a sign to relax and let the man do his job. She leaned her hip against the bar and pulled her phone out again. 12:34am.

CR: Start sobering up, Bec. You have a show to do.

Beca: Just for that, I'm taking another shot.

"So, where's my drink, rockstar?"

Beca looked up from her phone to find the redheaded woman sidle up opposite of her. She looked less distressed than when she was on the phone which was a good sign. Her big, blue eyes still had the deep, tired lines, however. They had the ungodly power to bore into Beca and leave her feeling totally stripped. She hated it.

"Coming right up, groupie," Beca smirked back before turning her attention back to her phone. The redhead coughed loudly. Beca ignored her and continued to tap out an email to her producer. Another cough. Her fingers didn't stop typing. Another cough sounded before Beca finally tilted up with a raised brow.

"Isn't it a bit rude to ignore your guests of honor?"

Beca looked up, startled. "I am so sorry, I thought you were someone different. You weren't here in the original group, I would have noticed," Beca hurried to her own defense, but immediately regretted it. The redhead looked positively enthralled by her choice in words.

"Oh, so you would have noticed me?"

Beca was hitting herself internally. She had to fix this and fix it fast. "Yeah, redhead and all…" she motioned to her hair. Thankfully, the bartender had finished her drink and placed it on the bartop. Beca quickly picked it up and handed it to the woman. "Here you are, as promised. Vodka-Cran, double." The woman gently took it from Beca's hands and wrapped pink lips around the thin straw. She hummed in delight before setting the drink down onto the napkin.

"Alright ladies! Since we are finally all here," Aubrey said, sending a dirty look towards Beca and the redhead, "let's take a picture!" Aubrey began corralling the drunk group to stand by the balcony overlooking the dancefloor. Beca glanced around for someone to be the photographer, her eyes landing on CR who was involved in a very intense game of virtual CupPong.

"Yo, C!" Beca yelled, walking over to the pink-haired manager. "Can you be a pal and take a picture of these beautiful ladies for me?" CR took one look at Beca, rolled her eyes, before pocketing her phone and following the DJ to the group. Aubrey handed CR her phone and Beca stood in the middle, waiting for the girls to situate themselves around her. The space around Beca kept getting smaller and smaller and CR looked at Beca with all the sympathy she could without pouting. Hurry, Beca mouthed.

"Okay, ladies, count of three say Bec! One, two, three!" A chorus of Bec's filled the air and CR snapped the photo. She handed Aubrey her phone and walked over to Beca, putting a hand on her shoulder and leaning up to her ear.

"You have a few more minutes up here until you need to finish your set. You know the drill." Beca nodded and pushed a few stray hairs from her face. She only had a few more minutes and then she could do what she loved and go home. She could do this.

"Alright ladies, it was awesome getting to know you all, but unfortunately I have to go back to the booth and finish the night. You are more than welcome to chill up here and enjoy the bottle service as well as kick it on the dance floor with me. Be safe and enjoy the rest of your night!" Beca's goodbye was met with loud protests, all begging her to stay longer and party more.

"Chloe just got here! Is there anyway you can stay just a little bit longer?" Stacie asked, jutting out her bottom lip and pushing her breasts together. Beca sighed, doing her best to school her face into neutrality.

"I'm sorry, Stacie, but I have to go back and spin. My queue isn't long enough to chill up here much longer."

Stacie paused, looking defeated for a beat, before her eyes lit up in a way Beca now recognized to be dangerous.

"Maybe…" she drawled, walking to the DJ, "you could take us with you?"

Oh no.

"Stacie's right, Bec! Chloe hasn't had the chance to hang out, yet. It's only fair." Aubrey wholeheartedly agreed with Stacie, and to Beca, that was the most shocking thing of the night. Where the fuck is CR?

"Surely that isn't a problem, right?"

If Stacie wasn't as charismatic, Beca would have immediately declined. Unfortunately for the DJ, she had ten eyes and a pair of tits begging her to say yes.

For fuck's sake.

"I guess a few minutes in the booth wouldn't hurt."

A resulting scream of celebration instantly made Beca want to jump off the balcony. Everything about this arrangement screamed bad idea and Beca did not want to be caught in the middle of it. Her eyes glanced around the room, desperately seeking out CR, but was left empty and abandoned. Fuck. Beca checked her phone for the time and saw that she had seven minutes until she needed to go downstairs. Seven minutes to either a) disappear from the face of the earth, b) commit an act of mass murder, or c) get drunk.

Get drunk.

"Alright, alright, how about we get some drinks flowing before we head down? Sound good?" Beca headed over to the bar for the upteenth time that night and, as politely as she could quickly, asked for another round of shots. The bartender (who she regretted not knowing his name by now) smiled and went about his order. Beca reached into her wallet and placed a generous tip next to his service station. Thank you, you beautiful bastard.

Each girl took their shot, gathered their belongings, and waited for Beca to lead the way. Each beat of her heart pounded into her ribs and tattooed the apprehension seeping into her being. Everyone looked so carefree, so excited, how could she possibly refuse it? She would be death of the party. Her label simply would not allow it. She took her shot (what was it, seven now?) and once again ran a hand through her hair in an effort to comb away the chaos of the night. The alcohol running through her veins sent a pleasant, warm humming throughout her tense body. Her cheeks were warming slightly, the blood rushing to her face to color her red. I'm the same color as the redhead, she mused.

"Alright, time to head out. Everyone settled?" Beca did a quick glance around the group and everything seemed to be in order, at least this 'order' was their own special type. Fat Amy was grabbing as many bottles of champagne as her hands could carry, Lily was missing, and Aubrey was too invested in her emails to chaperone the rest of the group. But as soon as Beca landed on the redhead (Chloe?) their eyes met. Beca felt something heavy shift in her chest, the blatant staring into her eyes was unexpected and unsettling. The heaviness changed into thick walls of defenses, the bars keeping this group of ladies at bay and ultimately saving Beca the headache of taking care of them. It was time to do her job-not babysit grown ass women. She found a new resolve and began the treacherous journey from upstairs to down. Head up, chin down, one step at a time. Breathe.

"Too..many...stairs…" Fat Amy panted, her body sliding against the wall in an effort to remain upright. Jessica and Ashely did their best to drag her body to keep her moving. Beca had a feeling once she stopped she wouldn't move for the rest of the night. Ignore it. Keep walking.

They finally reached the bottom. Beca hung a left and entered the door which led to the inside of the club. The music was considerably louder and the air was hotter and stickier than the private room. It felt like hitting a wall of blistering, thick sound; it was oddly consuming and overwhelming, but, Beca having done this thousands of times, was able to fight her way through the sensation in order to work. The tunnel vision took over, her private kingdom of noise was steps away. Things were okay. She was okay. She stepped into the booth and her lungs released a weighted breath she forgot she was holding. Alright. Showtime.

Beca laced her hands together to crack her knuckles before picking up her headphones. The padded headband was wasting away from years of use, but the red hardware still glowed brightly in the flashing lights. The cups around the ears weren't nearly as padded as they used to be, but she wore them down, and nothing felt more secure than when she placed the cup around her ear and the music washed her mind like a cleansing rain. Her laptop screen fired into life and she began to view the waves of songs she needed to mold. Each strand corresponded to something alike, but never exact, and this was why she was the best in the business. No one could view music like she could.

"This is so exciting!" she heard one of the girls say. The booth was cramped and Beca was momentarily pulled from her reverie and into the borderline claustrophobic space. Don't think about it. Keep mixing. She shook her head clear and continued her magic. The dance floor was electric: a huge crowd, pulsing lights, and bass all fed into each twitch of her fingers. Her head bobbed along to the beat playing through her headphones while her fingers mechanically slid each dial and knob into what would become the next dance chart-topper.

"How do you do that?" a voice spoke behind her. Beca turned around to see the redhead again, her eyes alight with curiosity and excitement. The bright blue outshined all of the colored strobes in the club combined. Chloe held her drink in her hand, but had barely even made a dent when Beca first gave it to her. This was one sober human being taking genuine interest in her craft.

"How do I do what, exactly?" Beca asked, devoid of attitude and purely interested in what she wanted to know. No one has asked before, but then again, no one has really had an opportunity to.

"How do you know what to do? Like which buttons to press and what song to pick?"

Beca chuckled and slipped the other half of her headphones off, letting them rest around her neck. She gestured for Chloe to come closer, giving her more accessibility to her deck. "Well," Beca began, "I started in high school and familiarized myself with the equipment, but other than knowing where everything is located, it just sort of...happens." Chloe nodded her head, listening intently to her words. She pursed her lips in thought, her eyes burning with the question she is debating on asking. "You can ask, I won't bite."

"Would you...Would I be able to-"

"You want to try?"

Chloe looked up, her timid approach melting away in favor of surprise. Beca shrugged her shoulders, offering a tiny side-smile as her only response.

"Call it the V.I.P. experience with Bec," she winked, taking a step to the side to allow Chloe more room in front of the booth. Chloe looked baffled and seemed stuck in shock before her feet caught up with her brain to take the spot next to the DJ. The smile that found a home on her face was contagious. For the first time that night, Beca gave a genuine, albeit tight, smile.

"You should smile more," Chloe said, but quickly covered her mouth with a manicured hand. Beca laughed, a full bodied laugh, before placing her headphones around Chloe's neck. She heard Stacie give a wolfish whistle at this. Beca held up her right middle finger for her to see, and then proceeded to explain to Chloe what each instrument did. Chloe, the good apprentice, listened intently, nodding every so often, and gave Beca her undivided attention. Beca had to admit, teaching her was kind of fun. Kind of.

"Now this button right here? It has a looped effect; everytime you press it, it'll play back the sound over whatever base track you have. Press it when I tell you to. 3..2..1..go!" Chloe squeaked and eagerly pressed the button. The resulting look of pride and joy on Chloe's face had Beca excited, too. Who is this woman?

"Hey, DJ! It's last call for you. Finish up your set and then you're free to go." CR raised a brow at Chloe mixing, but didn't comment. She knew better than to question Beca's decisions, even the most arguable.

"Heard that, Bossman," Beca called back. Chloe took the headphones off and placed them into Beca's hand. She nodded her thanks before grabbing the mic. "This is DJ Bec signing off. Keep the party goin' and see you next time. Peace!"

The girls in the booth cheered, all clapping and praising Beca and her talent. It felt nice; she wasn't used to genuine people like these wonderful, although cooky, women. Soaking up their positivity, she made a decision. I'm gonna regret this.

"How would you all like to hit the after party at my place?"