The limo ride to the club is kept light with a bounty of top shelf champagne, there's no bitterness to the bubbles but there's a whole bunch of it instilled in Beca. She's shutting down something hard while the rest of her crew is getting looser by the mile.
"Beca, now don't take this the wrong way but you're a train wreck car crash around her." Several of the Bellas nod with Amy's assessment. "I've seen roadkill in Australia better than how you turned out."
Beca drops her face into her lap as Emily rubs a consoling hand along her back. Beca didn't want anyone to comment on it, she didn't even want to go to the club but after Emily explained that DSM wanted to do an collaboration for a single, she as the producer had no choice.
Why wasn't she informed of this beforehand?!
"Am not!" She argues weakly back but her friends give her a rather skeptical look. "She's just so aruhg, so dauntingly sexual when she's all," Beca waves her hand, palm out and flailing, "3D and in person in front of me it's not even real so I don't like like her she's more a rival hate showmance thing."
"Uh huh," Chloe shares a concerned glanced first at Aubrey after the usage of 'like like' and then back at Beca, "I think it's time for the talk."
"What."
"You have a crush."
"On who?" Beca is honestly baffled so while her friends gawk at her she's quick to amend, "Jesse? Cause I haven't even spoken to him in like 6 months," she scoffs, "but that's normal for us."
"Yeah that's not what couples normally do." Aubrey is giving her a 'you're being a complete idiot' look. "Honesty is important, so I'm going to demonstrate some honesty with you right now, you have a crush."
"I don't have a crush; the Kommissar just has a really dominating personality with legs that don't ever end." Beca notes her tone turning dreamy; she scrunches up her nose in disgust, "but in a deformed mutated way like a new born giraffe and not at all like a model on a catwalk."
"Yeeeah, you're not convincing anyone." Amy patted Beca's hand, Bumper's engagement ring shining on her digit.
"It's not like I need to prove to you that I don't like her."
"Well the least you could do is act like a professional around her." Aubrey crosses her arm, leaning regally back as she dishes out a verdict. "You're Emily's producer, there's no reason for you to cause an issue for a fellow Bella."
Beca pouts.
"Oh Becs, don't do that, you're not grumpy cat." Chloe scooches over and wraps her arm around the sulking Beca.
Beca's brooding still and god knows Chloe doesn't have the proper gauge on personal space so obviously the rest of the Bella's join in on the prolonged hug but then the limo jostles as one of the tires thumps up the curb which spills the bottle, flute and the Bellas all onto one another. The bubbly splash of chill makes the girls screech and try to yank away but then in the ensuing chaos, Cynthia is grabbing for Stacie; Ashely and Jessica who have apparently been here the whole time get tangled up against one another as they both move into the same space and because that's just how things are in Beca's life, the driver gentlemanly opens the door to allow the passengers a free tumble onto the side walk.
They're slicked with alcohol and pooled in an inelegant pile on the red carpet leading to the club entrance.
As she lands, Beca's ear has the pleasure of being right next to Lilly's lips. "I taxidermize all the dead things my cats bring me."
Of course she does.
…
Clubs are not Beca's thing, huge groups of people are not Beca's thing, people aren't really her thing; though when she's with her great gang of weirdos she feels safe even among the throng of gyrating clubbers.
Several rounds of shots have everyone lubed up and moving to the dance floor. Chloe gives Beca's hand a squeeze before disappearing into the crowd along with Aubrey. The rest of them mingle in generally the same area but Beca is tiny and so is her bladder so on her trip back from the washroom, she gets accosted because, well, people are drunk and handsy.
She gets hoisted up in the air by a guy in a sleeveless t-shirt, the kind he cut with a pair of scissors all by himself. She digs her nails into his biceps for balance and glowers at him. If looks could kill it would be hers but he just leers all crooked teethed and skin crawling up at her. Why the hell was he wearing sunglasses inside a nightclub?!
"Let go, asshole!"
"Ya, nah, let me show you a good time." His hands are on her hips and his breath is probably 100% proof. Where's a lighter when she needs one?
She's about to swing her leg hard into his vitals when a hand claws into his shoulder and grips hard enough for the muscly asshole to cringe down on one side.
"She asked for you to let her go, best we do that now."
Kommissar comes just a bit taller than him and while his fogged up brain can't decide to obey or not, it only encourages the other woman to grip harder. He yelps and shoves Beca from him, causing her to nearly fall if not for a steadying hand on the small of her back.
"Whatever, bunch of teases."
When the guy has stumbled away Beca turns to the other woman. She's flummoxed at getting rescued like some damsel but the Kommissar has such a gentle expression on her face that Beca can't quite get up her annoyance.
"Are you alright?" That voice carries over the din of crowd and music but whatever is said next is drowned out by Beca's quickening heartbeat.
She's flustered and embarrassed and now pissed off enough at her own lack of poise to summon up some bite. "I didn't need you to save me, I had it under control."
"I'm sure you did," Kommissar takes the acidic tone with grace, the corner of her matte red lips curling up with amusement. "I recalled you being a feisty mouse."
Beca is scowling so hard but all that snark she has still channels out as a compliment. "God your lips are perfectly shaped."
The taller woman laughs, actually throws back her head and has the nerve to chortle. Beca crosses her arms and refuses to look away but thanks to her height she has no doubt that she appears as a petulant child. The hand that was on Beca's back was now resting on a perfectly sculpted collarbone, as if the Kommissar could stifle the laughter if she pressed down hard enough just so she can avoid angering Beca further.
"They taste pretty perfect as well."
"What?!"
"The gloss I use over the red liner, it's actually flavoured, licorice and something tart." Kommissar is holding a tube of clear gloss and applies first to the top line of her lips than the bottom, finishing the gliding motion by pressing her lips together and making a pop motion.
Fuck. Beca isn't admitting to the crush but she can admit to finding the other woman ridiculously attractive, in a purely aesthetics sense.
"Are you sure you're alright."
"Yeah, I'm, me," Beca laughs, it's too boisterous to be norm, she waves her hand indifferently. "Yeah. I'm good; it's just that licorice is kinda gross flavour."
"Mmm, I'll keep your preference in mind."
"Whoa, nope, you do whatever you want cause it's working, uh huh, look at you, just, like wow, how long has it been."
"Three years."
"Yes it has been." Beca would be a full on liar to say she hasn't been invested in DSM' continued success. She tells herself that it was necessary to do research on the Acapella group cause they were rivals, kind of, well they were once bitter rivals and the group was relevant to the music industry.
Though she'll be hard pressed to explain why exactly she needed to click into the Kommissar's private profile page every once in a while only to feel disheartened to see the blank default Face Book provided pic and very little information.
"I would've liked us have kept contact, especially now that our group intends to work with your Emily soon." The Kommissar tilts her head just a little bit closer, palm just against the top of Beca's shoulder. "Let's exchange emails or perhaps add one another on Face Book?"
Beca giggles, full on titters like an air head before settling for sarcasm. "Wow, I mean are you sure we've reached that level of intimacy, Face Book is a big step."
"I do keep my personal page rather private but I don't mind if it's with you."
"Yeah, I've noticed, you can't even find pictures tagged of you in the search bar." Beca's eyes widen at her slip up while the other woman smirks. Whelp set her on fire cause she has just gone from weirdo to stalker. Beca balls up her fists and presses her knuckles against her lips least something else gets through.
The other woman laughs again, amused by Beca's antics, "add Luisa Löwe, then you'll have access to all my pictures." She reaches out and lightly rests her fingertips on the back of Beca's hand until Beca follows the suggestion to lower her hand from her mouth.
"Okay."
Luisa smiles, there's nothing antagonizing or condescending about it. Maybe it's the anonymity of being among strangers or the lack of Bella and DSM teammates but Beca doesn't feel like she has to say anything to ruin the moment. She doesn't have to lead her group or defend against fellow competitors.
She can just be.
Beca recalls how Luisa's skin had felt during their altercation three years ago; it was hard to forget such a touch. She loses herself to the softness of the hand that lingers just over her wrist. The warmth that radiates and scorches along her skin, she frets a bit when she realizes that she's spazzing out over them barely holding hands.
Though she does get curious exactly how that would feel, how sure and certain it would be. She slides her hand away which causes a dim to the friendly spark in her companion's eyes but when Beca stops and turns to allow the tips of her fingers to brush against Luisa's palm, they both end up grinning.