Prompt: Maybe they have a fight or something and Jesse does a crazy apology through a series of post-its? [MissLiv]
(I realise that this is probably not what you were expecting, but this is the first thing that came into my head and I didn't feel like writing angsty J/B... Hope it's okay though?)
TWO
She isn't mad at him. Really, she's not.
But she isn't exactly over the moon either.
He had promised to control himself, promised to not get too drunk with the other Trebles…but here he is, completely wasted at two o'clock in the morning, wildly waving around a marble he had found on the floor outside [or so he claims...]. Don't get her wrong, Jesse's more than welcome to have a good time with the guys and on any other day, she wouldn't have minded, wouldn't have even blinked an eye, but when she has her Philosophy midterm in exactly eight hours that she really needs to be studying for, well, she sort of doesn't want to be spending her night making sure that Jesse doesn't choke himself to death on a stupid marble.
"It's a magic marble," he says to her, bouncing on her bed excitedly, a lopsided grin on his face as he beams at her, holding the marble up high as if it holds all the answers to all of life's questions, "It has superpowers, Beca. It's like Benji but in…marble form!"
She rolls her eyes, sighs, closes her book, knowing that there's no way she's going to be able to revise with him in her room in this state; she knows from past experience that on a scale of one to ten, Jesse's like a fifteen when it comes to being an impossible drunk, getting weirdly attached to inanimate objects and refusing to shut up.
[After all, who can forget that one time when he had almost started bawling after she had successfully pried him away from a tree he had 'made friends with' in an attempt to get him home and in his bed? She definitely can't...and naturally, she makes sure that Jesse can't either.]
"Benji doesn't have superpowers," she remarks dryly and even though she sort of wants to be mad at him for breaking his promise, she can't help but smile at the way he frowns at her words, an utter look of concentration on his face as he lifts the marble up to his right eye, examining it curiously. "Benji's just good at close-up magic."
She blinks, leaning back in her chair as Jesse suddenly gets up from the bed and walks over to her, still waving that damn marble around. "Can you see its magic powers now?" he asks, as he takes her words literally and holds it really close-up to her face until he's dangerously near to poking her in the eye with it.
It's going to be a long night.
[Still, he's more entertaining than Philosophy will ever be so whatever, she can deal with this.]
Beca's more than a little surprised when she comes back from her Philosophy exam [which, thankfully for the dork and his stupid marble, went okay] and spies what looks like a juice pouch taped to her door—actually, no, she's not that surprised.
This is Jesse, after all.
As soon as she reaches her door, she slowly peels it off, rolling her eyes as she sees that Jesse has carefully attached multiple neon-coloured post-its to it, quickly raising an eyebrow in disbelief as she scans the first one and sees how he's addressed her and oh, she is going to kill him.
Maybe.
[Okay, maybe not.]
To my favourite sarcastic, miniature person —
I'm so sorry for last night; really, I am.
— From your favourite drunk ever…or not.
Beca rolls her eyes. Only Jesse Swanson, the dork, would attempt to apologise with a juice pouch and multi-coloured post-its and god, he is so lucky she's not actually that mad at him right now or he'd find his precious movie collection mysteriously rearranged in non-alphabetical order [the horror!]...although, okay, she has a feeling that this has nothing to do with luck whatsoever and that he knows her well enough to know that she's not that pissed at him but whatever.
[She's learnt the hard way that she should never joke about messing up his movie collection to his face; the last time she had unknowingly slipped it into a conversation, he had been so horrified that he had spluttered at her for a good ten minutes, his arms flailing ridiculously by his side, unable to get any words out, before spending a whole hour and eighteen minutes - yes, she timed - lecturing her on the importance of keeping DVDs in the correct order so they were easy to find [or something like that; she stopped properly listening after about two minutes, more amused by the way he was getting redder and redder as he continued]...and yeah, she's definitely not trying that again.]
To my favourite sarcastic, miniature person —
I swear I'll make it up to you. I SWEAR.
— From your favourite drunk ever…or not.
Beca sighs, biting her lip at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation before promptly peeling it off and moving on to the one underneath...but she can't help but be a little touched by the fact that he's gone to so much effort to write all these out.
To my favourite sarcastic, miniature person —
But for now, as a peace offering, I give you this.
— From your favourite drunk ever…or not.
She blinks at the bold arrow drawn at the bottom of the post-it before she rolls her eyes in realisation, seeing that he's attempted to tape the marble, his precious marble, to the bottom of the juice pouch...but he hasn't done a very good job of it and it's hanging off it precariously and any second now, it's going to fall onto the floor, causing a potential tripping hazard. She shakes her head, a half-amused smile on her face as she rips the marble off and sticks it in her pocket and moves on to the final post-it.
To my favourite sarcastic, miniature person —
By the way, I hope you notice that none of these post-its are pink; I figured you would appreciate my apology more if they were on, uh, more 'Beca-coloured' post-its so I went for yellow and green instead. :)
— From your favourite drunk ever...or not.
Beca rolls her eyes yet again, squinting a little as she sees that someone else has scribbled a rather lengthy note underneath Jesse's, their words all squished together:
[Hi Beca, it's Benji. Jesse wanted to keep writing post-its for you but I sort of need them for my project so I took them away from him - sorry! Also, Jesse told me to break down your door and place this on your bed but I thought that you wouldn't appreciate that so I've just left it here, hope that's okay!]
Okay, she can't help herself, she has to say it: sometimes Jesse is such a weirdo.
Without wasting any time, she quickly walks over to his dorm room, pushing open the door and telling him exactly that. Because he needs to know. She has only told him that a million and forty three times, after all. [No, that is not an exact number; unlike Jesse, she's not a weirdo and—okay, moving on].
"I'm not a weirdo," Jesse insists half-heartedly, looking completely pathetic as he turns his head to glance at her from his position on his bed, his arms flung out to either side, clearly still recovering from his hangover.
"Yes, you really are," she replies, but she moves to stand beside him anyway, letting him pull her down to his level because he's looking so helpless lying there and okay, maybe she liked his little post-it apology more than she'd ever admit...
"Okay, maybe I am a weirdo," he admits, smiling triumphantly as she settles herself beside him, lying back onto his pillow, "But hey, you put up with me anyway."
"Unfortunately," she says, but she burrows a little closer to him until her head's resting on his shoulder and it's strange but she thinks she can feel him smiling as he gently presses his lips to the top of her head. She starts to smile back but then she suddenly remembers something he had written on his post-its and she turns her head upwards so that she can see him properly, narrowing her eyes in his direction, smirking a little as he swallows, "I'm your 'favourite sarcastic, miniature person'?"
He shrugs.
"It fits," he says. "You're sarcastic. You're miniature—and ouch, okay, I take it back! You're not that short, you're not short at all. You, Beca Mitchell, you are very tall, you're like, the tallest," he hastily amends, as she reaches over and starts prodding him in the ribs really hard in response.
She does not take jokes about her height lightly, even if they're coming from Jesse—no, especially if they're coming from Jesse.
"I really am sorry for last night," he tells her, once she's stopped attacking him, and he sounds so earnest and apologetic that even if she was mad [which she isn't, not really], she's sure she would have forgiven him in a heartbeat, "l'll make it up to you, I promise. I won't mention movies for a whole week?"
Beca blinks. Does a double-take. She doesn't think that it's even possible for Jesse to do that.
"Seriously?"
"No."
She rolls her eyes, giving him a shove, laughing as he lets out a squeal of surprise that he quickly and awkwardly turns into a cough as he almost falls off the bed.
"Smooth," she tells him, but she's still laughing and it doesn't come out as sarcastic as she had intended it to, "That was really smooth."
Jesse just grins back, manoeuvring himself back onto the bed again, sliding his arm under her head and around her shoulders as he presses his lips to her cheek. She smiles, turning into him as she sticks her hand into her pocket, her hands curling around the marble that's inside and it's weird and a little scary but she thinks that there's nowhere else she'd rather be in this moment—
—That is, until seconds later when he's suddenly grabbing his laptop from his bedside table, loading up another one of the many rom-coms he has stored there. [It's a serious problem of his.]
"Dude, no, we're not watching a movie," she says, shaking her head at him adamantly as she tries to close his laptop screen but he just smiles widely at her, skilfully repelling all her attempts, quickly grabbing her hand and interlacing their fingers, pressing yet another kiss to her cheek and...okay, whatever, she can let him have his one movie.
Mhm, let me know what you think?