Hey again guys! This is probably more like how often I'll be updating—I LITERALLY slept all day yesterday, which is, unfortunately, how my Saturdays have been going since I started externship. Before I begin, I want to thank all of you for your continued support and input—you have no idea how much it means to me! And to ReadWriteFangirl, who pointed out to me that I'd gotten the eye colors wrong, thank you! I've been reading Pitch Perfect fanfic for a while and people seem to have contradicting ideas, but I finally took the time to look it up and you were totally right! I'll correct that from now on (and in previous chapters as soon as I remember to xD). I also really appreciate everyone's input, especially regarding what you think of my work so far and what you think of the Staubrey relationship in general! You guys have given me lots of different ideas to go on as to the direction the story is going to take!

Please continue to review with your opinions and input! It really is the best motivation for us writers! And, most importantly, please enjoy chapter two!

UnPerfect

thefanshipdarkhorse

Two: Crushes, Tension, We'll Sleep it Out

Okay, so maybe Stacie was just a little bit fucked.

And, really, fucked was a bit of an exaggeration, because it's not like this was the first crush she'd ever had, though her last (and first) had been on TJ Malone back in eighth grade, who, coincidentally, had been her first…well, first, as well. And really, the only reason she hadn't had more crushes over the course of her life had been due mostly to the fact that she lived her life by one simple rule: fuck before you fall.

Okay, it sounded really crass. Like, super, full-0n Aubrey-disapproving-glare crass. But it wasn't like Stacie actually thought it out beforehand—that's just how life worked for her. She saw something she liked and she took it—it just so happened that this time, the thing she liked was the uptight, controlling and infinitely out of her league Aubrey Posen, and even if she did like Stacie back, the brunette wouldn't be seeing the label on those designer jeans any time soon.

So that's all it was, really—pent-up desire for something she couldn't have. Stacie wasn't used to wanting what she couldn't have, after all, and her poor hunter didn't know what to do with not getting exactly what it wanted, exactly when it wanted. Really, this silly little crush (if it could even be classified as such) was nothing more than the thrill of wanting what she couldn't have for the very first time, she reasoned. Because, really, with her looks and sexual prowess, the only way she wouldn't get what she wanted was if someone was just as stubborn in not giving it up as Stacie was in getting it on.

And look up stubborn in the dictionary and you get a perfect, air-brushed Aubrey Posen, Barbie-esque smile firmly in place (and made of more silicone than the real thing).

So really, who could blame Stacie if maybe (just maybe) she couldn't get that single, nanosecond-long hug out of her mind? She could only imagine, but the previous recipients could probably be counted on one hand if she knew Aubrey even half as well as she thought. Chloe, of course, but who hadn't hugged Chloe? And, in retrospect, that's probably where Aubrey got so good at hugging from. Stacie had to bite down, hard, on her lower lip to keep the shit-eating grin off her face as she imagined a younger Aubrey getting blindsided by a distraught, heartbroken Chloe back in their first months of being roommates. Aubrey, she imagined, would have been all awkward limbs and stuttered consolations, not knowing what the hell to do but not daring to not comfort Chloe lest somebody else (probably of the male persuasion) step forward to do the job for her. Hugging had probably become a challenge just like everything before it, one that Aubrey had perfected and probably, given the strange, safe feeling Stacie got just from being in those hesitant arms for a half-second, overspecialized to suit Chloe's comfort demands and general over-affectionate behavior.

Without her permission, Stacie's grin wavered, as, for maybe the first time in her life, she felt a twinge of what she imagined must have been envy. Stacie didn't like to think of herself as being weak, or fragile, or anything of the sort, but she couldn't help but wonder how it felt to have a best friend who would do absolutely anything for you, who would always be there with strong, waiting arms…Only who was she kidding, because everybody with an eye and a pair of functioning brain cells to rub together could see that Aubrey was deeply, helplessly in love with Chloe Beale. No 'friend' would do that for another friend—Stacie wasn't quite dumb enough to believe otherwise. And why should she be envious, anyway? She had everything every girl her age could ever wish for—angelic looks, a body to die for and more boy toys than anybody, male or female, at Barden (with the possible exception of Fat Amy, but most of hers were back in Tasmania, so).

But then, there was that one thing. That one silly little thing that kept tugging at the back of her mind, the one thing Stacie Conrad had never had, the one thing that Aubrey Posen, for all of her faults and shortcomings, was in spades—loyalty.

And it wasn't as though Stacie resented any of her many lovers for it—how could she, when she was the one who kept turning down each and every request for a second date, or even a morning after? Still, the mind wonders…

Stacie sighed as she stretched her lanky form, her mind drifting back to the present, where she was cooped up in a too-small auditorium with too many people around her while a single, tiny figure at the front of the room droned on and on about something she couldn't care less about. She thought she heard the words 'defensive mechanism' in there somewhere, but hell if she knew what they meant. Which, she thought somewhere in the very back of her mind, probably didn't bode too well if she was going to pursue that psychology major with any vigor (which she fully intended to, if only to be seen as more than just a pretty face, a slut—and what better major, for a person who loved people more than anything?)

What it all boiled down to, she decided as the students around her began to get restless, signifying the end of class in a few minutes, was one thing—curiosity, plain and simple. She'd had everybody else—she'd had jocks and geeks and cheerleaders and hipsters. She'd had the drama geeks, the 'might-be-gay' boy and the questioning girl. It was only natural that the one thing she hadn't had would be the one thing she'd be drawn to the most—the straight-A student, the student council president. The stubborn one.

Who could blame her for being so desperately drawn to one Aubrey Posen?

And did it really have to mean anything more than that?

God, I fucking hope not.

Aubrey arrived back at the apartment she and Chloe shared in a foul mood, which was really only heightened when she turned the doorknob and was instantly treated to a full-on Bechloe fest currently in progress. It wasn't anything sappy, or romantic, or anything like that—Aubrey almost would have preferred if it had been, actually. Because this…this here, right in front of her, was exactly what had lost her both her best friend and (not-so) secret love all in one go.

This was Beca and Chloe seated on Aubrey's couch, the former being straddled by the latter, being forcibly subjected to what appeared to be the ending of…Titanic? Aubrey actually scoffed, because really, Chloe? Titanic?

She knew what it was about, of course, because she was Aubrey Posen…and also because Chloe had spent the better part of the evening the day before huffing and puffing about how Jesse had apparently gotten Beca to watch the entire Breakfast Club without complaint. The redhead had claimed that Jesse shouldn't have forced Beca to do anything she didn't want to, but by the looks of the scene in front of her, Aubrey would deduce (had she not done so last night just by taking one look at Chloe's petulant frown) that her beef was less about Beca's rights as a weird, sullen movie-hater and more about Chloe being jealous of anyone who meant so much to her adorable pet alt girl. Not that Chloe needed to worry at all, of course—Aubrey could see the signs of a Chloe-catch miles away, having been one herself only a few years back.

A few years longer than her precious Beca's been around, her subconscious huffed, but by this point in time, it was second nature to bite down the jealous voice.

Instead, she cleared her throat, causing Beca to jerk into a sitting position…and right into Chloe's forehead. The blonde gave a long-suffering sigh at the yelp and frantic apologies that ensued—Beca was about as much a bad-ass as Aubrey was a rebel. That is to say—not much of one at all.

"Dare I even ask what the two of you were doing on my couch?" the blonde questioned, though it was more of a statement than anything. Apparently not getting the memo, Chloe opened her mouth to reply, and Aubrey cut her off sharply before she could say anything that would damage Aubrey's already beaten ego more than she already had. "Rhetorical, Chloe," she snapped sharply, and then regretted it instantly when Chloe's face fell. It wasn't even in her smile—it was in her eyes, like all the light had been sucked out of them, and really, it wasn't fair, because she should be used to Aubrey's bitching by now. "It was a rhetorical question, Chlo," she repeated, significantly more gently as she hung her book-bag in its designated spot (next to a foreign one that had been thrown haphazardly in the entryway, she noted, glaring at Beca, who had the decency to look somewhat shamed) and rubbed her temples. "Just keep it down, okay? I've got studying to do."

It happened before Aubrey could brace herself, before she could repeat the mantra she'd been repeating for years, ever since she met Chloe—she doesn't mean it, she doesn't want you, it means nothing to her…Aubrey was suddenly carrying the weight of two on her slender (but thankfully strong) shoulders as wild red curls fell over her and threatened to engulf her entire being in their distinct scent. If it hadn't been for all the cardio (and previous experience with Chloe tackles), she would have toppled over like a bowling pin, but, as it was, her arms flew instantly to Chloe's legs to balance the ginger before her legs took one shaking step backward to balance herself. "Chloe…" she grumbled, glad Chloe had come from the back this time so she couldn't see the lovely shade of red that had painted Aubrey's face.

"Don't be a stick in the mud, Bree," Chloe whined, and Aubrey didn't have to be facing the girl to know she was pouting theatrically. "Come watch the movie with Beca and I!"

"Beca and me," Aubrey corrected without thinking. Chloe clearly took this for a yes as she squealed and began to rock against the blonde, effectively shattering Aubrey's painstakingly constructed self-control and causing them both to fall backwards onto the couch. Instantly, Chloe scrambled off of her blonde roommate, who was still recovering from the unexpected stimulation and back toward an infuriatingly amused-looking Beca. The combination of emotions resulting from Chloe's affectionate behavior immediately followed by the ache of rejection was enough to give Aubrey whiplash, and the blonde simply sunk back against the couch, having given up on the day.

While Chloe was certainly not stupid, she was remarkably oblivious to many things (probably due to her habit of completely devoting herself to the focus at hand, which, in this case, was Beca), so her roommate's plight went right over her head. Fortunately (or not so much, as it did do the final blow to Aubrey's pride), Beca, who had been trying to patch things up with the blonde ever since the exchange of the pitch pipe (or the bitch pipe, as Aubrey had heard Fat Amy call it multiple times but had simply brushed it off as one of those things she would just have to live with for the greater good), was actually remarkably observant, and spoke up to try to save Aubrey at least a little heartache (unknowingly, Aubrey prayed to the aca-gods, because if Beca knew, her ego may as well be shattered beneath the tread of a steamroller). "Uh, Chloe, I was kinda thinking I might head over to Stacie's soon—you know, best friend time?"

"I thought I was your best friend?"

The combination of the sorrow in Chloe's voice and the ridiculously sincere puppy-dog pout KOed the younger girl before she even had a change. "Uh, well, you are, it's just—different? I mean—"

"What Beca is trying to say," Aubrey began, because as much as it pained her to see Chloe fall further and faster for this girl every day, she had been trying as well. That and the fact that somewhere, deep, deep inside her heart, she was terrified that if she and Beca didn't learn to get along and forced Chloe to choose between them…well, it wouldn't be Aubrey she picked. But she shook that thought away as unproductive to the task at hand—getting out of the Bechloe love-fest. "Is that she's been spending so much time here that she hasn't gotten a chance to spend time with her other friends, namely Stacie."

Chloe frowned. "Oh…" she replied, staring at the floor, and Aubrey mentally chastised herself, because while Chloe was a surprisingly poor sharer when it came to the few people she truly…loved…she was, at heart, a kind girl who truly didn't want anyone to be hurt. "Oh!" Aubrey felt herself tense when Chloe perked up, a shiver suddenly running down her back. "Why don't you just invite her to join us?"

Both Beca and Aubrey choked a little at this suggestion, albeit for entirely different reasons. Beca, because she'd just wanted to get out of watching the damn movie and maybe get a little on Aubrey's good side while she was at it, and Aubrey because she'd rather be literally anywhere than in a dark room watching a romantic movie with Beca and Chloe curled up together on her(!) couch (because with Chloe, cuddling was inevitable), no matter how many other people would be there.

Because Aubrey always seemed to be able to pick up on exactly what was going on with Beca and Chloe no matter how desperately she tried to distract herself.

The main, and shared, reason for both their distress, however, was the fact that neither could come up with a good path out of this potential disaster, and the bright look on Chloe's face simultaneously spelled both their fates.

It was almost eight when Stacie got the text from Beca:

movie at chloes, get ur ass over here and distract the beast before she strangles me w/ my own hair

The taller brunette snorted—Aubrey was hardly a beast, although, metaphorically speaking…she shook her head violently to rid herself of the dirty thoughts. God, how did nuns do it? This, of course, conjured up another plethora of dirty thoughts, and Stacie came to the conclusion that it had been far too long, mostly due to the 'beast' and her no-trebles brigade. Although, given Beca's situation (despite her obvious toner for Chloe, the girl was still deeply in denial with Captain Oblivious—Stacie actually felt kind of bad for Jesse, he really was a nice guy. Maybe she'd lick his wounds when Bechloe happened…no! Bad!), she had to wonder whether Aubrey had let up on that particular rule. She'd have to ask tonight, because like hell she was missing out on a chance to be alone (or as good as, since Bechloe was its own little world) in the dark with Aubrey Posen. She'd come to the brilliant conclusion that if she could just get their blonde captain into the sack, this whole 'crush' business would be resolved quickly and painlessly.

And without any more confusing-as-shit hugging, because her ridiculously exaggerated reaction to one measly little hug was the one piece of the puzzle Stacie hadn't been able to figure out.

And done! I'm going to start chapter three now, right after I post this! As always, please leave me a review, and I hope you enjoyed!