Title: Surrender
Rating: M - for use of language, pending intimate moments, and other fun things.
Pairing: Eventually this will be a Beca/Chloe story, but it may have other pairings mentioned briefly.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, though if I did, Bechloe would be canon.
A/N: It's been a while. Since high school, actually. I've now graduated college with a degree in Creative Writing. Funny enough, I haven't written anything for myself in almost three years. So I feel as though I'm starting from scratch. I'm no longer as confident in my writing (reading my other fanfictions has made me weary). But I figure now is as good as ever to jump back on the saddle. Bechloe warms my soul, honestly.
Stay with me, okay?
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Three Bellas and two Treblemakers attempted to hold Fat Amy up for a keg stand. They were succeeding, barely. The music from the speakers blasted the summer's top-40 hits, which everyone was gladly (and drunkenly) singing along to. Aubrey was over in the corner sitting with Jesse, trying to see the lowest note she could sing, and he was simultaneously trying the highest. Beca was standing next to the keg, swaying softly left and right to the music with her eyes closed, lips around a swirly straw as she took a small sip of her freshly poured drink.
Both teams plus a few stragglers from the university's other a capella groups were visiting Stacie's parent's lake house outside of the city. Aubrey lightened up on the strict rules about fraternizing with the rival group after the championship, and since she was technically a graduate now, her rules didn't really matter anyway.
Cheers came from all around the keg as Fat Amy finished, but the girls couldn't hold her up anymore so they all came crashing to the floor, which ended up knocking Beca's full drink out of her hands. Luckily, the liquid flew backwards, away from the crowd. Fat Amy put her fists in the air in triumph from the floor, while sputtering and suppressing coughs. She eventually gave up on trying to stand, so she just laid on her back with a contented sigh.
Beca thought about getting another drink since hers was now splattered all over the floor, but it was Donald and Lilly's turn at karaoke, so she was instantly distracted by them busting out a killer version of "Crazy In Love" by Beyonce and Jay-Z, which turned into Beyonce's "Partition." The lights were low, and everyone was grinding together in the middle of the room.
After hoots and hollers when the duo took their bows, Fat Amy finally regained her composure and stood up. "I have two words for you," she bellowed over the music. "Manhunt."
Aubrey immediately looked up from the couch and couldn't help herself. "That's one word, Amy."
"My name is PATRICIA and I hate your guts!" Fat Amy yelled, satisfied at her announcement and bowing to the approval and cheers from the rest of the room. "No, I don't hate you. I don't hate you," she reassured, as she stumbled over to the blonde and massaged her face, climbing over Jesse in the process.
The idea started to gather force. Bellas vs. the Treblemakers. Excited murmurs bubbled through the room.
Beca stumbled to sit on a chair, much drunker than she'd like to admit. If she would have realized it before, she wouldn't have even thought about starting her third drink. She was suddenly thankful it got knocked out of her hands. Her vision was darting the room around quickly, in small, repeating motions, like a broken record skipping. She blinked hard a few times to assess her self-control. Whenever she drank at parties, she fought for composure, so her appearance wasn't outwardly inebriated. Most of the time, she'd admit, "I'm drunk," and people would chastise her for lying. Though she'd only really had two drinks, so she wasn't sure why she was being such a lightweight.
"What is Manhunt," Beca asked, not really caring about the answer, wishing she didn't feel so tired, either. It was only quarter-past midnight. She shifted her legs so her feet now rested on the floor. This didn't stop the room from spinning though. She yawned widely and let her body fall backward on the chair.
"It's like hide-and-go-seek meets capture the flag on steroids. With teams," Stacie said, with an excited grin. "In the dark," she added with a wink.
Before Beca even realized it, Stacie had dubbed a small, modern table lamp as the Bella's flag, and a bright blue couch cushion as the Treblemaker's flag, and everyone was now standing outside. Beca looked to her left and right dumbfoundedly, wondering if she was floating, or if she had time traveled. "I'mma Timelord," she slurred in awe, leaning into Denise, who rolled her eyes with a smile. Stacie stole the glasses off Donald, who was flirting heavily with Lilly at the time.
"Teams," Cynthia Rose said, demanding everyone's attention. Beca blinked hard and opened her eyes wide, to focus. "You have two minutes to plan where you will meet, and where you will plant your flag. The jail is in the house, which serves as No Man's Land, and is conveniently in the middle. You may rescue hostages if the officer doesn't catch you. I," Cynthia Rose said happily, "will be the officer. I ain't goin' in no woods with these new sneaks." She wiggled her feet around in a small dance to show them off. "Ready, set, go!"
The boys ran off to huddle, and the Bellas all started excitedly chatting.
"Chloe," Beca yelled in a stupor with her eyes closed, elongating the last vowel. "Chloe, where's Chloe." Spinning around, she spotted the red-head, who looked at her squinting.
"Uh-oh, Little Mitchell is wasted for real," Stacie said with a smirk.
"I'm here," said Chloe, holding onto Beca's arm to steady her.
"Here's the plan, bitches," Fat Amy said over everyone talking, capturing everyone's attention again. She had somehow in a span of only a couple seconds put black war-paint on her cheeks. "Aubrey. You head north with the flag," she said, shoving the lamp into Aubrey's arms. "Hide that shit like Waldo," she added.
"Right," Aubrey noted. "Which way is north?"
"Lilly. Denise," Fat Amy continued in her commanding tone. "Scout the perimeter. Report back on any scullaballo."
"Sculla-what?"
"MOVEMENT. MOVEMENT IN THE WOODS. AM I SPEAKING ENGLISH?"
"No, you're speaking Australian," said Beca with a snort.
"You, Mitchell," Fat Amy said seriously, holding onto both sides of Beca's head and squishing her cheeks in, "you are our leader." Their noses were a few inches away, and Beca was having issues focusing.
With difficulty, Beca with her squished cheeks replied, "Beca's…" She stopped talking because she was overcome with giggles. "Beca's not here right now, can I take a message?"
"Oh shut it. You are tiny. You are sleuthy. You will bring us to greatness." She finally released Beca's face from her grip. "Everyone else, focus on capturing those mofo Trebles and disposing their bodies to Cynthia in the house. Last thing. If you see Bumper, tell him I'll be waiting by the bushes, right over there. Hands in!" The Bellas attempted their cheer, but most were too drunk or distracted so the beautiful high note was more like a few burps, and a couple soprano's attempting an absurdly piercing whistle note before everyone started laughing and gave up.
The girls dispersed. The Treblemakers were already nowhere to be found. Aubrey was out of sight with the Bellas flag. She took Fat Amy with her for back-up, and to just keep her away from Bumper, really.
Beca looked around and realized she was now alone. She let her head tip back so she could see the stars dancing around through the treetops. "I'm. So. Drunk," she admitted to the sky with open, dramatic arms. She felt a warm hand on the small of her back, which visibly jumped her.
"I got you, Bec," said Chloe, with a surprisingly soft tone. She hadn't left her side; Beca was just extremely inebriated and didn't notice. Chloe pushed Beca forward so they were walking towards the house.
"Chloe," Beca protested. "Chlo. E. I need to catch the flag… thing. It's that-a-way," she said, pointing to the woods behind her.
"That can wait, hun. You need to drink some water," said Chloe. She chastised herself silently for sounding so motherly, but Beca didn't seem to mind.
Beca opened her eyes wide. "Am I going to die?"
Chloe let out a breath of a laugh through her nose. "You're not going to die," she reassured. The crickets and bullfrogs filled the comfortable silence around them as they made their way to the back door of the house.
"You look really pretty tonight," Beca confessed, but before she realized what she said, she exclaimed, "Wait." She halting them at the door. "Cynthia Rose is inside. We can't let her see us," she stressed in a whisper.
Doing her best to ignore her last comment, and knowing there was nothing to convince the younger girl of anything otherwise in this state, Chloe gave in. "Okay, well here's your mission. Sneak past the living room and make your way upstairs. I'll grab us water. Deal?"
"Easy-peasy." Beca wished she would stop slurring her words. She pushed open the sliding door silently, and got down on all fours to crawl, but it only made her dizzier. She opted to crouch instead.
Chloe held in her laughter at the sight of Beca stumbling her way up the stairs. Halfway up, Beca turned around and pointed her finger at Chloe with an exaggerated wink, to signal she'd made it unseen. Chloe beamed with silent laughter, and her heart did that funny lurch she hated.
Chloe waited until she heard a door close, and then made her way to the kitchen. While opening the cupboard for two glasses, she heard far-away shrieks of some Bellas and the cracking of branches as they ran through the woods.
She gave a big sigh and clunked the glasses down on the counter after they'd been filled. She put her hands on her face and let out a quiet, frustrated moan. It couldn't be more painstakingly obvious. Unrequited, was the mantra in her head. Weeks would go by, and everything would be normal, and then every now and then, something would happen. Something Beca says, or something she does, and it made Chloe squirm. There's always a "What if." What if that was a double meaning. What if she wasn't joking...
"Hey," said Cynthia Rose, which brought Chloe back to reality. She'd just walked into the kitchen and spotted Chloe with her head in her hands.
"Oh," she said, startled. She cleared her throat and busied her hands. "Yeah. Water break." She lifted the two glasses up as if to prove her point. "If Beca asks, you didn't see me, okay?" She started toward the stairs.
"Girl, you're in deep," Cynthia Rose said sympathetically.
No one had ever called her out on it so blatantly before. Not even Aubrey. Chloe cheeks immediately burned and she ducked as quick as she could out of the room with the water.
Upstairs in the hallway, no lights were on, and every door was closed. She padded down the hall, listening for any sounds. Chloe creaked open the first door, but no Beca. She tried two more bedrooms before she heard retching noises coming from the last room's bathroom. "Shit," she said under her breath, speeding to the source of the noise. She set down the glasses on the bed's nightstand, and ran to open up the bathroom door.
Beca was sitting down on the floor next to the toilet, paler than Chloe had ever seen her. She had her back against the wall, quiet for the moment.
"M'driving."
"What?" Chloe asked incredulously, rushing to her side. Beca immediately leaned over the toilet again to retch, and Chloe looked away with a grimace, and simultaneously held back her friend's brunette locks.
Beca finished with a small groan, and leaned back against the wall again, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand sloppily. "Driving," she said, out of breath. "The porcelain bus." She put her hands on the toilet seat and pretended to drive it like a steering wheel. "Get it?"
Despite the situation, Chloe burst out in a small laugh. She flushed the toilet, grabbed a towel to wipe Beca's face, and sat down next to her, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"Chloe," said Beca, trying her best to keep her eyes open. "I feel weird," she said, breathlessly.
"Let me get you the water I brought. You have to try and drink it, okay?" She stood up and grabbed a cup from where she left them in the bedroom.
Leaning her head back against the wall, Beca groaned to the ceiling. "No, like I'm really... weird, Chloe. What's happening."
Chloe entered the bathroom again, and kneeled down to hand her the cup. "It's water, hun. You need to drink." Beca didn't move to grab it, she was slightly unresponsive for a split second. "Bec?" Chloe asked, starting to be more alarmed.
Beca lifted her arm with difficulty, and there was a slight tremor in her hand as she grasped her fingers around the cup. The water sloshed around before it was steadied by taking a drink. The second Chloe noticed this, her heart instantly rose to her throat and her adrenaline surged. "Oh my god, Beca." She took Beca's face in her hands to assess her eyes, which wouldn't stay open. "Beca, I think you've been roofied," she said, aghast.
Chloe's mind immediately started to piece together the events of the night leading up to the past hour. She'd been with Beca, or at least in the same room, a good majority of the night, so she willed her mind to quickly sift through possible suspects.
Though Chloe technically graduated, she still needed to fulfill an internship requirement to get her degree. While looking for potential internships that could utilize her counselling degree, she gravitated toward a woman's shelter for sexual abuse and domestic violence. During her time at the shelter so far, she's heard the symptoms and signs of these kinds of these date-rape drugs before, many times.
Beca put down the water after a few more small sips and brought her knees up so she could hug them. Chloe immediately grabbed Beca's wrist and started to take her pulse, as she counted the ticks on her watch. Her pulse was beating as fast as she would during a heavy workout, which confirmed yet again, that this was definitely a sign of being drugged. It could have been so much worse if she'd been alone. Or even been taken advantage of. That thought stung Chloe, but brought her back to continue assessing Beca's state. She seemed to be in good shape, since in Chloe's experience, most of the women she talked to said they passed out after around 30 minutes. Beca's been in the same room as Chloe and under her watch for just under that amount of time, and she's still talking. Thankfully, with the relatively stable condition she was in, there would be no trip to the hospital tonight.
"What's the last thing you remember drinking?" Chloe asked quickly, knowing that she doesn't have too much time before Beca could go unconscious.
"Water," Beca said, pointing at the cup, unable to stifle a single giggle, before she closed her eyes again.
Chloe couldn't run from Beca's dry humor, even in this state. "Before a few seconds ago, I mean."
Beca smiled briefly, and then held her stomach. It was obvious she was extremely uncomfortable, and her heart rate was making her breathe heavier, which in turn irritated her diaphragm and stomach more. This surge of adrenaline was making Chloe's heart race, too. She searched Beca's eyes and made her keep eye contact. "I can't believe this is happening," Chloe whispered, more to herself.
"Why're you so nice," said Beca, struggling to keep herself awake.
Chloe sighed, knowing there wasn't much she could do other than to keep monitoring her, and getting her into bed so she could sleep. Gently, Chloe lifted Beca's arm around her neck so she could hoist her to a standing position. She led her out of the bathroom and to the bed, letting Beca lay down on her side on top of the covers. Chloe kneeled beside the brunette, who now was almost completely unconscious, and she threaded her fingers through her hair softly. Beca hummed in response to the touch. "I'm so glad you're safe," Chloe whispered. "But I'm going to kill whoever did this to you. I'll be right back with our bags to get you changed. Okay?"
Downstairs, a few Trebles were being held in "jail" in the living room, one being Jesse. Cynthia Rose was lazily watching them, as it was her job as the "officer." As soon as Chloe realized Jesse was there, a new sense of rage came over her, and she stormed right up to him.
"Alright, which one of you fucks spiked Beca's drink?" she said, jaw now clenched so tightly you could see the muscle. She stared down all of the boys, who were stunned silent at the violent outburst from this normally peppy girl.
Cynthia Rose immediately stood up in concern. "What's going on?"
Pointing her finger centimeters away from Jesse's chest, Chloe jabbed at him hard. "I'm going to find out who did this, and I'm going to rip them to fucking shreds." Her big blue eyes were narrowed into little slits, and no one dared to move.
"Is she okay? Do you need help?" Cynthia Rose asked quickly.
Jesse had his hands up in defense. "Look," he said, breaking the Treble's silence, "we don't know what you're talking about."
"Like hell you don't," spat Chloe. She turned to Cynthia Rose. "Do you know where Beca's bag is?"
"Yeah, yeah. It's right in here." Cynthia Rose led Chloe into the dining room, where they sifted through all the bags and found hers, and Beca's.
Now that they were alone away from the boys, Cynthia Rose put her hand on Chloe's forearm to slow her down. "What's happening?"
Immediately, Chloe's eyes filled with frustrated tears. "I know the signs. Her heart is racing, she is dizzy, nauseous, shaking and barely conscious. And it only took less than half an hour to go from zero to sixty. Someone did this to her." She sniffed and looked to the ceiling to try and compose herself. "And if I hadn't stayed with her, or forced her inside, she could have been lying in the woods somewhere alone…"
Cynthia Rose stopped her from saying any more. "I'm glad you were there, instead of some punk-ass Treble. She's lucky to have you."
Chloe shook her head, continuing an inner monologue. "She must not have had much of it at all. Maybe like one sip. Do you know what she was drinking out of?"
"I'll just dump any open beverage I see, okay? I got you. You go back upstairs."
The two girls shared a look of knowing, but Cynthia Rose didn't push it. Chloe bounded up the stairs two at a time, and flew down the hallway to the last bedroom where Beca was. She shut the door hurriedly, locking it with a huff, and dug through Beca's bag to find her more comfortable clothes to wear.
"Chlo?" Beca asked wearily.
"It's me. I'm here, hun," Chloe said. She found some athletic shorts and a white t-shirt that Beca must have packed to sleep in. "I'm going to take your shoes off, and get you comfortable, okay? You're just going to go to sleep. It will be morning before you know it."
Chloe untied Beca's sneakers and slipped them off. She took off all her jewelry and set everything on the nightstand. Beca was like a ragdoll, and kept involuntarily groaning softly. Her hands were clammy and she still felt sick to her stomach.
"I hate this," said Beca, voice wavering. Chloe realized that Beca had been silently crying during the time she was gone, as her eyeliner was now streaked down her face.
"Oh, honey," Chloe said sadly, wanting nothing more than to just let the poor girl sleep this whole thing off. "I know, but we're going to sleep, okay?" Trying to make the least big deal possible, she shimmied Beca's jeans off and changed her into the shorts.
Beca, even with her drunken, drugged state, felt Chloe's hesitation about changing her top. She broke the silence. "You've seen them before. I don't even care, just do it, Chlo. Hate this stupid shirt." Her voice was still slurred, and she was sounding more and more pathetic as the drug set in further.
With a furious blush, Chloe propped Beca up and tugged off her fancy shirt, so Beca was just sitting with her bra on. This felt different than the time she barged in on Beca in the shower last year. That time, Chloe was too enamored by Beca's singing, and there was absolutely no shame or embarrassment on either end when their voices blended together. Tonight, Beca was much more vulnerable state, scared even. Helpless. It felt too weird to remember just a few hours ago while they were dancing together, Chloe had been fantasizing Beca in this state of dress. Mortified, the older girl looked away quickly and handed Beca the t-shirt.
Beca's lip started to quiver and she was trying her hardest to keep her composure and consciousness. "I can't…" she motioned to the clasp on the back of her bra. She was frustrated, sick, dizzy, and just didn't have the energy, nor the motor skills, and both girls knew it.
Again, this wasn't how Chloe pictured this happening for the first time, but her feelings were secondary. All she could think now was, Poor Beca. Never once has Chloe seen her this vulnerable, scared even. But the look of trust in Beca's eyes when she did manage to leave them open long enough to hold Chloe's gaze made everything much simpler.
From that moment on, any movement Chloe made was calculated and methodical, and she suddenly felt different, more authoritative. She reached her hands around to Beca's back. Any patch of Beca's skin that Chloe's fingers brushed felt electrically charged, but she feverishly ignored it. She averted her eyes calmly as Beca's bra fell to her lap and, as fast as Chloe could manage, she threw the t-shirt over the smaller girl's head, threading her arms through the holes to finish.
She carefully helped Beca down to a sleeping position on her side, and tucked her into the blankets. After putting a trash can near the bed, and the glass of water back on the nightstand, Chloe changed into her own sleeping clothes: a camisole and some running shorts. She was done with the party. She was with the only person she cared about anyway. Giving a quick breath to steady herself, she shook out her hands to try and release some of the tension she had pent up. She then put her hands on the back of her neck and hung them there. With a sigh, she made her way to stand at the window. Peeking through the curtain, she saw the rowdy groups laughing and darting through the woods as they were still smack in the middle of Manhunt. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at how trivial it felt now.
It had only been a few minutes, but Beca was already fast asleep. She was breathing steady, slow and deep breaths. As quietly as she could, Chloe shut off the lamp and climbed into bed, slipping herself directly behind Beca, in a cuddling position. She told herself she was worried about Beca rolling onto her back in the night, and she didn't want her to choke if she were to get sick again. It wasn't because Beca's body fit so perfectly to hers, that it was like second nature to be in this position. Of course not. They did this all the time. It meant nothing.
Chloe draped her arm around Beca and checked her pulse again, unable to contain her worry. Panic was setting in again, because she realized how awful Beca will feel in the morning. She's only heard the horror stories about the hangovers that those drugs cause, and it was only a matter of time before Beca will suffer through it.
Unable to tame her lingering thoughts and subsequent worry, sleep didn't start to set in for Chloe until she could see hints of sunlight cascading into the room. By this time, Beca had already shifted several times in her slumber, at one point turning over to face Chloe, and snuggling closer into her chest. Beca somehow managed to intertwine their limbs in such a complex way, that it was suddenly the most comfortable position in the world. This is what finally drifted Chloe to sleep, with the littlest, content smile.
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a/n - Leave a review if you'd like to read more! I don't want to be one of those authors who begs for reviews, but it really does help give me that nudge to keep moving forward. Tell me what you liked. Tell me what you didn't like. Tell me what you want to see more of. Anything you say helps. I'd love to continue the conversation. It would mean a lot to me!
(recently edited - 3/2/15)
xo - alyssa