AN: The response the previous chapter got was pretty dope. Thank you for all of your feedback. I won't drag this for too long as I need certain things to happen. And, we're getting there. Slowly but surely. Let me know what you think of this chapter in a review, you have no idea how much your feedback helps.
Jesse always knew the Bellas were amazing simply because they were Beca's friends and she considered them family. But having spent time with them, he got what Beca meant when she described them as amazing but in small doses.
They sure were a handful. And, he was only there for an hour top every other day to visit his cat.
"What's that smell?" he asked, sniffing the air while he played with Thororeo.
Cynthia Rose who was in the living room with him shrugged, her eyes glued to the TV.
He got up to investigate himself, following the smell. "Shit," he cursed, entering the kitchen when he saw smoke coming out of the oven and rushed towards it.
It smelled like burned candy when he opened the oven to pull whatever it was that burnt.
He was pretty confused when he found a pizza.
He was unlocking the window to air the room when Stacie entered the kitchen.
"What happened in here?" she asked before her eyes fell on the burnt pizza.
"Someone forgot they were making pizza."
"Are those gummy bears?" she wondered then grabbed a fork to pick up one of the gummy bears that served as the topping. "This is disgusting," she noted.
"Who do you think did this?" Jesse asked, leaning against the kitchen island.
"Oh, it's Fat Amy for sure," Stacie confidently said before she dropped the fork in the sink.
Jesse watched Stacie reach for the cupboard to get herself a glass and only then realized that she was wearing an oversized sweatshirt, that got pulled up when she lifted her arm, and knee-high socks.
He immediately looked away because he wasn't going to look at her butt.
"Hey, Jesse, what did you study in college?" she asked, placing the glass she drank in back in the cupboard.
"I majored in finance," he answered, tilting his head to look her.
"Did you take advanced algebra?" she wondered.
"Yep," he nodded.
"I'm taking this exam I found online as practice for my exam and I've hit a brick wall," she explained as they walked out of the kitchen.
"I'd love to take a look at it." Out of all of the Bellas, Stacie was the last person Jesse thought would be taking advanced algebra.
"What are you majoring in Stacie," he wondered.
"Naval engineering," she answered and tilted her head hearing someone get in.
"Wow!" he exclaimed. "That is one hell of a major." He tilted his head as well. "Hey, Becs," he greeted watching the five-foot-two captain of the Bellas step through the door.
"Hi," she said, sounding raspy.
"You alright there?" he asked quickly noticing how pale she looked.
"Coming down with a cold," she explained, rubbing her temples.
"Want me to take you to see a doctor," Jesse offered. If it were to him he'd take her right away because he didn't like taking risks but as long as she didn't show sever symptoms it was her choice.
"No, it's not that bad." She began making her way up the stairs. "I'll just pop a couple of painkillers and sleep it off."
Jesse helped Stacie out with the math problem she had trouble solving then decided to check on Beca.
"How are you feeling?" he asked as he stood in the doorway.
"Like shit," she answered before she blew her nose into a tissue.
Standing by her bed, he extended his hand and pressed it against her forehead. "Jesus, Beca, you're boiling," he mumbled, moving his hand to cup her cheek.
He wasn't overreacting: she was really, really hot.
"Your hand is cold," she mumbled back.
"You guys have a thermometer here?" he asked, removing his hand.
She shook her head, looking away to cough.
"It's been over an hour since you got home, the pills you took should have worked their magic by now." He frowned when she got into a coughing fit. "Whatever it is you caught is anything but a cold," he told her. "You need medical attention. I can't give you that but I can and will take you to see someone who can."
"Jesse," she called, sighing.
"Save your energy," he said, looking around the room for her coat.
With her coat in one hand, he stood by her bed and waited, unfazed by her death glare.
"Fine," she huffed, pushing the duvet aside.
He was right, she didn't catch a cold. She had the flu but he wasn't going to rub the fact that he was right in her face. She was too ill and didn't need to hear it.
"I won't take long," Jesse said as he undid his seatbelt.
Beca nodded in response before she rested her head against the window and closed her eyes.
Other than the drugs the doctor prescribed her, Jesse needed to purchase vegetables in order to make his family's infamous Super Soup. He also had to get her other home remedies for the flu. She got sick in a very shitty time. She had her midterms going on and needed to get better quickly.
Chloe once told him he was a nurse in a past life and he humbly agreed.
"Jesse, seriously go home," Beca was saying as Jesse stepped into the room holding a tray.
"Rude," he said in mock-offense to which she rolled her eyes.
"I took the meds," she stated. "You don't have to do this."
"You mean the soup?" he guessed. "I love making soup. And, I love nursing people back to health," he added.
He placed the tray on her lap once she sat up. "I just talked to Amy. She said she won't sleep in the same room as you while you're sick," he informed and heard her mutter, "bitch."
"So you better get used to having me as a roommate until you kick this flu out of your system." He sat down on her desk's chair.
"You can't be serious," she said in response.
"I'm very serious."
"Dude, no!"
"Beca," he called, scooting in the chair until he was beside her bed. "I'm not leaving, accept that. There's nothing you could say— because let's face it there's nothing you can do when you're this weak—that could make me change my mind about staying over until you get better." He shrugged.
"Super Soup is better eaten when hot," he pointed out when she kept glaring at him.
Jesse had a mug of tea in his hand when he entered the room as well as a thermometer that he bought when he went to purchase the prescribed drugs. He put the tea on her desk and turned on his heels. "What's that you're working on?" he assumed she was studying for an exam.
"I'm just checking my exams schedule," she told him, glancing up when he stood by her bed.
She rolled her eyes when she saw a thermometer in his left hand but said nothing. Instead, she just opened her mouth just enough he could put the thermometer under the tip of her tongue in order to read her temperature.
He pulled the thermometer away once it beeped.
"What's the verdict, Nurse Swanson?" Beca deadpanned. "Am I on my death bed?"
Her temperature was still higher than what it should be but it wasn't too high he'd drag her to the hospital again. He just had to keep an eye on her during the night, which was why he was spending the night over in the first place.
"No, you're just on your bed." He picked the mug up and handed it to her.
"Thank you," she said accepting it and watched him make his way out of the room to go and wash the thermometer.
"You really know how to make yourself feel at home," she noted when he came back. "Did you know that?" He was walking around the house like he lived there, it didn't bother her per se but it was weird how comfortable he was.
"Yeah." He picked up the garbage bin that was under her desk and put it near her bed. "Put the used tissue here," he told her. She somehow managed to make a fortress around her with used tissues, which was a good sign: her body was fighting off the illness it was supposed to.
"I'll go get you more tissue," he mumbled noting that she was running out of it.
Why wouldn't he make himself feel at home? The girls were great. They like him, and his cat he might add.
The only inconvenience was the fact that he'd catch glimpses of them with not a lot of clothes because they'd leave doors open while changing but after it happened twice in a row he learned his lesson. His gaze was always fixated on the floor ahead of him.
Other than that, he could live with the Bellas. Not that he would, but he knew he could.
"What?" Beca frowned feeling Jesse's gaze on her after he handed her the tissue box.
"Promise you'd wake me up if you need anything," he said. "I know you, Beca. You'll die before you ask for help. And, a world without Beca Mitchell wouldn't be the same. I need you to remind me how much of an idiot I am." He playfully ruffled her hair.
"Way to make this about yourself, Jesse," she noted, pushing her hair out of her face.
"Just please wake me up if you need anything, Becs."
Those damned puppy dog eyes were staring into her soul, it was hard to refuse him anything when he looked at her like that—she really needed to work on that.
"I will," she finally said.
"Good." He reached and turned the lights off, leaving the lamp on her desk as the only source of light in the room before he went and got settled on Fat Amy's bed.
"Jesse, are you still up?" she asked maybe 15 minutes later, she was starting to fall asleep but she had something bugging her and that she needed answers to.
"Uh-Huh," Jesse answered, tilting his head to look at her.
"Last Friday when I called you," she began to say. "We talked for like thirty minutes."
"Yeah," he said when she went quiet.
"What did we talk about?" She had been wondering for a while so she figured she should just ask. If it were something embarrassing, he would have mentioned it by now because Jesse lived for that.
"You don't remember?" He wasn't surprised, she sounded very drunk.
"Nope." She wished she did.
"You wanted to talk about Friday thirteenth for some reason. You have some strong opinions about that franchise." It was weird how opinionated she was about Friday 13th of all movie franchises. "So, we discussed those opinions of yours for most of the phone call." He paused. "You told me about what happened with Pete." He heard her audibly sigh. "What he did was a dick move, by the way."
"Who can blame him?" she replied. "Anyone in a similar situation would react like he did."
"I wouldn't." Jesse shrugged. "It's just puke."
"Yeah, I guess I wouldn't let some puke get in the way of getting laid either," she figured.
"It's not about that," he chuckled. "You never told me about Pete before. I thought you agreed to tell me once you started dating."
"I never agreed to such thing," she reminded him. "And, even if I did there's nothing to tell you anyway. I'm not dating him or anyone for that matter."
"Weird. You sounded like you liked him over the phone."
"Eh, I was probably bummed out because I didn't get laid," she replied, she couldn't possibly be into Pete.
He was nice and all, she was not interested in him: the fact that she shoved her tongue down his throat didn't change that.
"Well, I think you should go for it."
"Go for what?" she questioned in confusion.
"I think you should ask Pete out," he told her and frowned at the chuckle that turned into a cough.
"Yeah, I'm not gonna do that," she said, clearing her throat.
"Because you threw up on him?" he guessed. "Consider it a faux pas. Now I've never met the guy myself but I'm sure he just panicked and isn't really a dick. And, I know how you get when you're drunk which is why I know that you weren't bummed out because you didn't get laid."
"How do I exactly get when I'm drunk?" she asked ignoring the rest of his words.
"Your walls become paper thin," he told her and that somehow freaked her out more than anything in the world.
"I am officially never getting drunk again," she decided.
"Oh, C'mon, Beca!" he called in frustration, taking her by surprise. "I get why you're like this. I totally get it. Your parents fucked you up. However, the whole 'I'm cool with it and won't do anything about it' is bullshit. How can you know that you're better off like this when you've never tried to put yourself out there?"
"That's actually a good point," she admitted after giving it some thought.
"Just consider it," he sighed. "And, if he or anyone else hurt you I will make sure they don't get off easy."
She wanted to ask him why he cared so much about her love life but deep down knew that it wasn't about who she dated it was about her messed up self as a whole.
Also, a frustrated Jesse was a slightly more attractive Jesse, she realized.
She was feverish but the heat she was feeling had nothing to do with her fever.
"Easy there, buddy. You can't even hurt a fly," she said when he kept gazing at her, expecting a reply.
"Flies wouldn't break your heart," he responded. "Boys might."
She nodded, figuring that ending the conversation was her best option because she was seriously getting turned on.
"Good night, Jesse," she finally said.
"Night," he mumbled back.
He didn't get much sleep because Beca woke him up unintentionally. She was talking her sleep. He guessed it was a fever dream because she was occasionally whimpering.
He laid in bed for some time, just listening to her, and frowned hearing her say, "No, I won't sit on Elmo's lap."
'What kind of dream is she having?' he wondered as he went to check her temperature.
He didn't need a thermometer to tell him that she had a bad fever, she was sweating.
He figured a wet cloth would work and that there was no need to wake her up.
Jesse took a seat on the edge of her bed and periodically dipped the cloth in cold water and placed it back on her forehead.
Most of the stuff that came out of her mouth while she dreamt made no sense and the words that did confuse him because he had no context or what so ever.
At one point, the whimpering turned into moans, which he knew could only mean that she was in pain. Therefore, he wasn't surprised when she woke up. Neither was he surprised when she leaned forward and puked all over the floor.
He picked up the bin and held it towards her. She took it from him and continued to throw up into it.
"Wanna go wash your face?" he asked when she looked up.
"And pee," she told him.
He took the bin from her and put aside before he stood up and helped her out of the bed.
"Where can I find a mop?" he asked as he walked her to the bathroom.
She was holding onto him for dear life, it broke his heart to see her so sick.
"Check under the stairs," she told him.
He left her in the bathroom and raced downstairs to retrieve the mop and clean the floor.
He was in the process of moping the floor when Beca walked back into the room.
"Sorry you had to clean that," she apologized.
"Don't worry about it." He put the mop in the bucket, having finished. "You need to change out of your clothes." She was sweating a lot and the wet fabric against her skin would only make her sicker.
He walked over to her closet while she took a seat on the bed.
"Arms up," he said, tossing the sweatshirt he brought on the bed.
Any other day, Beca would tell him she could change by herself but she was exhausted and had no other choice than to let him help her out.
"Wait. No," she mumbled when he reached to help her with the t-shirt she was wearing underneath her sweatshirt. "Turn around. I'm not wearing a bra."
He had every inch of her body memorized but she had a point.
"I won't look," he told her, meeting her gaze briefly before he shifted his gaze elsewhere.
She didn't fight him and he knew it was for no other reason than not having the energy to fight him.
"I got it," she told him when he grabbed the clean sweatshirt and took it from him. "Turn around."
He obliged and sighed hearing her struggle to put it on.
He tilted his head hearing her get under the covers and frowned noticing that she was shivering.
"What are you doing?" Beca asked when he took the duvet on Amy's bed and put it on her bed instead.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked back. "You need this more than I do." He stepped back once he was done tucking her to bed. "Besides, I don't plan to go back to sleep." Jesse smiled a little when she sneaked her hand out and weakly held his when he sat down on the edge of her bed.
"Hey, Becs," he called and heard a hum in response. "What were you dreaming about earlier?"
"I was at the mall and Nana was trying to get to take a picture with Elmo."
"Elmo?" he echoed. He what he heard made sense but the whole thing didn't make much sense.
"Elmo kept showing up everywhere," she told him her voice above a whisper. "He replaced Santa, too."
He nodded when it finally made sense: it was Christmas. Her fever dream was set during Christmas.
"That sounds haunting," he noted and smiled a little when she chuckled. "I'd love to hear more about this but you should get some sleep."
"Love you, nerd," she mumbled, sighing as she began to fall asleep.
It was weird to hear her tell him she loved him. He knew she cared about him but it was nice to know that she loved him. Because so did he.
Her friendship mattered so much for him and he was glad to know that she felt the same.
"I love you, too, weirdo," he said back, squeezing her hand that was still holding his.