A/N: The drabble 'Elevator' expanded and rewritten a little.


In retrospect, Beca can't really remember the exact circumstances that leads to Chloe suddenly spinning her around and pinning her against the wall of the elevator. One moment they're on the way to Bella's practice, with Chloe seeming completely normal – fiddling around with her phone, probably Tweeting some anecdote about her morning – when suddenly her fist just flies out, hitting the emergency stop button.

As the elevator ground to a halt (complete with some rather disturbing grinding noises) Beca can only stare in shock at her girlfriend. Chloe gazes back at her with a steady nonchalance that's almost frightening. Like she did this every day. Like she wants something from Beca, and she knows she's going to get it.

(She almost always does).

The next thing Beca knows, here she is: Chloe's leg squeezed in between hers, pressing hard, her mouth first claiming Beca's, then marking a bruising trail up her neck while her wrists are pushed up on either side of her head.

'Okay,' Beca pants, when she gains enough oxygen back in her lungs to speak. 'Okay. So this is a thing that's happening.'

'Mmhm.'

'Is there any – ah! - reason that it's happening?'

It should be inhuman for her voice to go that high, but apparently it's entirely possible when Chloe gives her a particularly hard bite on the lobe of her ear. She doesn't even answer her question, just lets out a slightly displeased grunt and splays her fingers out across the sensitive skin of Beca's belly.

'Chloe. S-security cameras...'

'What about them?' Chloe asks. Her hands are already at Beca's fly, and making quick work of it.

'They're probably there. Like, recording and stuff... I don't know... Are they?'

Chloe makes a satisfied noise when she pops open the button and her hands venture into Beca's jeans. 'This one doesn't have one.'

'How do you know that?'

Chloe sighs impatiently, looking up at her. 'I just do, Beca. This building is super old. Like, Stone Age old. There are no cameras in here. Now. Less talking.' She leans up to give Beca another deep, hard kiss - her fingers applying just the slightest bit of pressure - and alright, now there's a little voice in her head actually telling her this is a good idea. She's clearly lost it. There's no other way she can explain such thoughts as 'Well, who knows how long it'll be before it gets fixed?' and 'Might as well make the most of the time we've got together'.

(There's another, even smaller part of her mind that's reminding her that elevator they're in is tiny and smells kind of weird, and the floor keeps making her shoes stick and just gross. But it's vastly overpowered by Beca's hormones).

Chloe seems to sense when Beca finally gives in, if the triumphant grin on her lips when she kisses her is anything to go by. There's something altogether too smug about it, like Chloe knows what kind of magical powers she has on Beca's body, and how no matter what kind of front she puts up, she's usually only a few well placed touches and smiles away from stripping off all her clothes. They both know it - but that doesn't stop Beca from getting just the teensiest bit annoyed at the confidence with which Chloe touches her and the self-satisfied way she does it.

And then Beca starts to wonder: why does she have to be the one that's so affected? Chloe is pretty obviously attracted to her, but she just seems to hold it together so easily. Meanwhile, Beca turns into a total girl at the slightest contact, all blushes and feeling weak at the knees. It's pathetic. Next thing she'll be fainting at the sight of Chloe's ankles.

Still, two can play at this game. Beca thinks of a morning a few weeks ago, when Chloe had listened to the mix she'd made for her (a very unsubtle mash-up of every song she'd found on Chloe's computer under a folder labelled "lady jams"). She'd gone unusually quiet. In fact, she didn't say a word for a long time; long enough that Beca started to worry, believing she disliked it.

Ten minutes later, Beca had her underwear halfway down her thighs with Chloe's tongue tracing her hipbones, and it probably would've gotten further if not for Kimmy Jin deciding that was a good moment to return.

(Chloe has now been banned from their dorm room).

And now, here they are. There's a telltale flush creeping up Chloe's neck, and a noticeable sense of desperation in the way her hands scramble to undo Beca's bra and cup her breasts. Beca might be insecure, but she's not stupid.

Maybe she doesn't ooze sexuality the way Chloe does, but it seems she does have something going for her. Something that makes Chloe moan when she kisses her, hips rocking just the tiniest bit. Something that makes her want to jump Beca in an elevator on the way to practice – something that means she literally can't wait until they get back.

Chloe wants her. Wants her pretty badly, in fact.

The idea sends a thrill through her body, along with a sudden surge of reckless courage. Maybe that's why she feels the need to surge away from the wall, to clumsily spin the two of them around so they swap positions. She stumbles a little on the sagging leg of her pants, nearly falling over, but Chloe thankfully catches her.

'Beca, what are – oh...' She trails off as Beca slowly drops to her knees in front of her, ears burning from the display of her complete lack of balance.

Don't think about how disgusting the floor is, Beca tells herself. Too late. She forces herself to focus instead on getting off Chloe's belt, but of course today of all days Chloe chooses to wear the equivalent of a strait jacket around her hips. As a result, it takes her far too longer than she'd like to admit to get it undone. Throughout it all, Chloe gapes down at her in a highly distracting manner, her eyes as big as saucers. Beca hears her audibly gulp when she finally manages to pull it open; she shoves Chloe's jeans down to her knees and –

And... Chloe's not wearing any underwear.

Beca looks at her incredulously.

'Seriously, dude?'

Chloe grins down at her, her lips swollen and her hair mussed, but a definite twinkle in her eye.

The score ticks back in Chloe's favour.

But only for a second, before Beca mentally shrugs, and leans her face in between Chloe's thighs.

Yep, thinks Beca smugly, as Chloe inhales sharply and seizes the back of her head to hold her in place, fingernails digging into her scalp. Totally got it.

Suddenly there's a crackle from behind Beca as the emergency intercom comes to life. A cheerful voice - which Beca recognises as belonging to Mrs Skipp, the apartment manager - comes over the line. 'Hello? Is anyone there?'

Beca and Chloe glance at each other, unsure. Eventually Chloe is the one to respond. 'Hi?' Beca sits back on her heels a little, feeling uncomfortable being near Chloe's nether regions when she's talking to someone else.

'Ah! Chloe, is that you?'

'Um... Yes...'

'And you're stuck in the elevator, I take it?'

'Yeah.' Chloe nods a little at Beca, as though encouraging her to carry on. She shakes her head fiercely.

Mrs Skipp tuts. 'Ah, that's a shame. I'm sorry about the inconvenience, but we're having trouble getting hold of a repairman. The only one around we can get to fix an elevator as old as this is lives a fair distance away. You could be in there for quite a while, I'm afraid.'

'How long is quite a while?'

'An hour at least, I should think.'

Beca stares up at Chloe, who is suddenly wearing an incredibly guilty expression.

'We'll keep trying to find someone closer.' There's another crackle, and silence in the tiny room as Beca's gaze slowly dissolves into a glare.

'Beca, I'm –'

'Don't even, Chloe. I swear, if this is what it leads to then I'm never making you a "lady jam" mix again.'