Prompt: "Beca is a music producer Chloe is a model she meets at an event."

Famous Encounter

Beca Mitchell was never a fan of the fame.

The flashing of cameras, the red carpet events, appearance in the media; it was all a big song and dance Beca didn't like or care too much of its tune. Her work was all about the music; perhaps not so much its success in the charts, but partnering up with someone as passionate about music as her and creating a sound that caused its listener's hairs to stand on end.

When the name Beca Mitchell first got around the music scene, she was living in a shared apartment and counting down the days until pay day (it seemed the rent was always due). Once she had worked with some of the big names and lent her vocals to a few tracks, Beca was in a much more spacious apartment without a single worry regarding the rent.

That was the moment Beca knew she had done enough; she had proved her Dad wrong and finally made DJing a profession. It seemed the opportunities to work with such great talents were always presenting themselves and producing number one albums was slowly becoming a trademark, but she doesn't like to brag – she just loves her job.

Red carpet events? Not so much.

After attending an awards show her 'people' said would be a "good way to create some buzz about the upcoming album", Beca found herself being dragged to an after party she had no interest in, but apparently the excuse "It's not even my album, I just produced it" wasn't valid and keeping up appearance was a must; at both the main and after event.

A glass of champagne sat at the table in front of her, untouched and losing its bubbles, as she watched the crowd of people converse in front of her; some faces familiar, others not so much; the buzzing of chatter faint under the bass of the music. Beca let out a sigh, reaching for the alcohol in front of her and knocking it back in one gulp.

She was on her feet, heading for the exit and texting her driver simultaneously and her mood lifting with each step closer to the door.

"Not a fan of the party?"

The stranger's voice sounded judgemental and irritated.

Beca's fingers stopped typing and her feet stilled, she really wasn't in the mood for this – almost four hours alone at an awards show and a party she cared very little about always made her snappy and short tempered.

"As a matter of fact, no, I'm not..." Beca was turning now, facing the owner of the voice, "...so, if you'd excuse me."

She should be turning back to face the door, should be making the last stride out of the building, but for a reason Beca couldn't quite understand, she was awaiting a reply. The redhead in front of her was wearing a white dress and a look that said "You don't belong here anyway." Her eyes were trained right on Beca, the blueness of them shining brightly in the almost dark venue, her intense stare making the music producer want to nervously pull at her not so present collar.

A couple of seconds passed; the awkward stare down continuing. There was a slight change in the other woman's expression; her eyebrows slowly lifting and the creases above the corners of her mouth appearing, a smile gradually peaking out, until it was taking over her face.

"Yeah, no, me neither. You don't happen to have a spare seat? It's just the crowds are forming out front and my driver is stuck in traffic."

Beca could sympathise with that.

If there was anything worse than attending a Hollywood party, it would be getting swarmed by the paparazzi upon leaving said party.

"Yeah, sure but I can't promise you we won't get stuck in traffic."

There was a nod and a quiet laugh, before Beca was leading them out of the door and onto the back alley. She quickly tapped send on her phone and stuffed it back into her back pocket. She looked at the stranger stood beside her, reaching into a clutch bag and retrieving a pack of cigarettes.

Beca kindly declined the offered box and watched as the redhead expertly flicked a light and illuminated the opposite end pressed between her lips. Despite not having smoked since high school, Beca couldn't help but think how this woman was making such a habit sexy as hell. The brunette's eyes were lingering far too long on her red painted lips, as she watched the smoke pour into the summer air.

Beca cleared her throat.

"So, I'm Beca."

"I know."

That response was new. Whenever she introduced herself at these types of events, Beca was usually met with a handshake and a smile, followed by a former introduction. There was always this unspoken agreement of fake pleasantries- despite already knowing names and the latest news story churning out of the rumour mill – that created the illusion that people in the public eye or 'celebrities' (Beca hated that term) had some sort of privacy.

Before she could form a reply, the redhead smiled, "I'm Chloe – don't worry, you don't have to pretend you know too."

Beca watched the flicked ash tumble onto the tarmac and noted Chloe's bitter laugh. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity, as well as the desire to brighten this woman's mood.

"You're a model, right?"

Her eyes followed the cigarette's journey from beside Chloe's waist, to past her shoulder and back at her lips. A quick intake of breath and the redhead was smiling, locking eyes with Beca before blowing the smoke from the corner of her lips.

"Yeah, something like that."

"I can see why."

It was a piss poor attempt at making her feel better and Beca isn't even sure why she said it, but Chloe was taking one last drag and stubbing the now discarded cigarette out with her shoe.

"I've heard that one before" she breathed, a smile on her face.

Beca thought it seemed sour.

"So does Beca Mitchell always attend these events alone?"

The DJ shrugged her shoulders, "I couldn't subject someone else to suffer this bullshit."

"So it is true! You are the moody artist everyone claims you to be."

Beca offered a small smile, "Guilty."

Although she had a feeling the Chloe she was speaking to right now wasn't usually this blunt, Beca could appreciate the dry and sarcastic sense of humour; it was actually quite refreshing.

The quiet laughter slowly passed and as if the other woman was able to read her thoughts, Chloe was running a hand through her hair and filling the silence.

"I'm sorry; I'm not usually this, mean?"

Beca shifted the weight on her feet, before smirking "Yeah, well I'm not usually this nice."

Before their conversation could progress - and much to Beca's horror - there was a limousine pulling up in front of them. Beca opened the door for an almost smiling Chloe.

XXX

Beca wasn't quite sure how her night took this turn, but being drunk with a model in the back of a limousine wasn't on the cards earlier this evening, but that's not to says she wasn't having fun, because strangely, she was.

Whether it was the alcohol or not, Beca could tell Chloe had the same thoughts and feelings on the whole fame and celebrity thing.

Chloe became more talkative as time went on and Beca quickly learnt her first thoughts about her were right; there was so much more to her than the sarcasm and bluntness Beca had experienced outside the club. Although the redhead was keeping her cards close to her chest, Beca couldn't help but feel a need to know more.

So when the car stopped outside Chloe's apartment, Beca didn't decline her offer to come inside.

XXX

The sun shining through the window caused Beca to stir. She opened her eyes to the drop of whiskey left in a glass by the bedside, and the dim red light of 9:18 on the alarm clock in front of her. Lifting her head off the pillow, Beca turned onto her back, the white sheet pulling on her chest. After a few seconds, the memories of last night came flooding back; the fumbling on the hallway, the taste of alcohol on her tongue, warm skin pressed against hers, clothes discarded, and wandering hands.

Chloe.

Beca quickly sat up, taking in her surroundings and the empty bed. The brunette began to get up in search of her clothes and the absent redhead.

She slowly wandered down the hallway cautiously and down the steps. Once in the living room, Beca couldn't help stop and take in the view of the city through the glass panels of the house. She remembers the view from last night, a flashback of pressing Chloe up against that very window the night before...

She shook her head, attempting to regain her focus. Beca made her way to the empty kitchen, spotting the large pile of magazines on the counter and a couple of dirty shot glasses around them. After flicking through the papers, she realised they all had one thing in common. Upon every front cover was a photo of the redhead accompanied with negative headlines. Beca let out a sigh, taking a seat. On her second inspection, she realised the shot glasses were still wet, causing her to look around the room once more.

There was an opened glass door to her left, which she failed to spot before. Beca made her way towards it, taking in the sight of a swimming pool and a few sun loungers dotted around it – it was then she saw Chloe.

"Hey" Beca spoke quietly, unsure of what to say or how to act.

The model in front of her was wearing a night shirt, sprawled out on a bed in the sun. There was a half wave and maybe the trace of a smile, but Beca couldn't be sure. She took a few steps further forward, closing the distance between them and awkwardly sitting down by Chloe's feet.

There was a strange silence.

Beca had no idea what to say.

She wanted to leave - call a friend, get a ride home and get herself out of this situation, but there was something about the defeated look on Chloe's face that made her feel she had to stay.

"Do you start every morning with shots?"

It was supposed to be a joke, but they both knew better.

"Five a day and all that" Chloe replied flatly, no hint of humour in her voice.

The first time Beca was in the media, she hated it. Fame was something she had never gotten use to, despite the three years she had now spent in the limelight. Once she was considered a celebrity, Beca couldn't live her life out in the open anymore; there were certain lengths she had to go to in order to keep certain aspects of it private. She stopped reading magazines, watching the news and Googling her name in order to keep her sanity. Looking at the A-list model Chloe Beale in front of her made Beca think she made the right decision.

Chloe sat up suddenly, folding her arms over her chest.

"I'm sorry."

Beca slowly shook her head, finally seeing the sadness in those blue eyes. "Don't be sorry, you didn't do anything you need to apologise for."

Chloe sighed, placing her hand atop of Beca's.

"I have. I've pulled you into my mess. People would have seen us leave together last night; it's only a matter of time before the press get word. I'm sorry."

Beca's mind wandered back to the magazines in the kitchen; "Chloe Beale in the middle of love triangle", "Beale spotted leaving nightclub drunk, again", "A-list model, Chloe Beale caught hooking up"; Beca offered her a soft smile.

"I don't regret it."

She's not sure why she said it, but she did mean it. Suddenly Beca understood why Chloe acted the way she did last night. The bitterness towards the party and the fame made sense now, but the personality she caught a glimpse of; the happy, upbeat and carefree Chloe that appeared once they were in the car and back at her apartment was the real her, but the negativity of the press and the fame weighed heavy on her shoulders. Beca cast her memory back to the way Chloe kissed her, the tight grip she held on her hand and the way the redhead melted in Beca's embrace at the end of the night.

Chloe just wanted to be seen as a person by someone and not the A-list model the rest of the world thought they knew.

Beca leaned forward, taking Chloe's face in her hands, their eyes locked on each others.

"Those magazines don't know shit, Chloe. Please don't let them make you think you have to apologise to me."

There was a smile. It was faint and barley there, but Beca saw it. She kissed her check softly and felt Chloe's hand squeeze hers.

There was a quiet whisper, "Thank you" and then an even quieter murmur, "please stay."

XXX

A/N: Things got darker than I planned...