A/N: I'm a terrible person, I know, and I'm sorry. Life has been pretty hectic as of late, and I'm not fairing too well in terms of writing motivation... for like anything. I do have another account that I've been messing around on, but trust me when I say that I've been even less productive on there than I have on this. But, Pitch Perfect was on TV last night, which sort of kicked me into gear for this fic. I can't say we make much progression in terms of plot, but I hope that, at the very least, it can give you a laugh!
Chapter 8: On Three
"Okay, sopranos in the front and altos in the back!"
Beca glances up from where she, Fat Amy, and Cynthia Rose stand, mingling around the wall framed with pictures of former Bellas. Aubrey and Chloe stand front and center of the auditorium, with the blonde looking every bit the part of a wartime General as she orders her troops into their seats, hands clasped stiffly behind her back. As the newest recruits settle in, she marches forward and lifts the one remaining chair, setting it aside with an air of contempt.
"As you can see, Kori is no longer with us-..." she begins tersely, only to be interrupted by a loud, startled cry.
"Oh my god, that's terrible!" Amy gasps, her horrified cry drowning out the senior Bella's following words. "But we just saw her last night! How the hell'd she go?"
Aubrey is momentarily taken aback, her face a mask of incredulity as she attempts to process the Aussie's unexpected outburst. "Wait, what?" she asks, brows scrunched in confusion. "What, what-... oh my god, no! No, no, no! She's not dead, Amy! Why would you even think that?"
"Well, when someone is 'no longer with us' that usually means they've kicked the bucket," Amy explains carefully, "Y'know… another one bites the dust? Assumed room temperature? Sleeping with the fishes? Knocking on-..."
"No, I know what it means! I just… that's, t-that's not what I meant," Aubrey sighs, the wind taken from her already limp sails. "If you had just let me finish, I was going to say that last night Kori was Treble-boned, and has been dis-invited from the Bellas."
Despite her general indifference towards the group thus far, Beca finds herself genuinely taken aback by the announcement. "Wait, that oath was serious?" she asks, voice laced with disbelief.
"Dixie Chicks serious!" Aubrey declares, leaving the brunette too confused to properly respond. What did that even mean? "You can fool around with whoever you want," she goes on, "Just not with a Treble."
"That's not gonna be easy," Stacie chimes in, pointing towards her crotch. "He's a hunter."
"You call it a dude?" Beca questions, both amused and shocked at the information. Stacie turns around in her seat, glancing back at the smaller freshman, and winks playfully; memories of that morning come flooding back, her cheeks glowing red, and Beca waves frantically at her to turn back around.
"Stacie," Aubrey chides, in a tone often reserved for unruly children, "The Trebles don't respect us, and if we let them penetrate us, we are giving them our power."
As if in unison, every face in the room cringes, and not a set of legs remains uncrossed as Amy claims, "Not a good enough reason to use the word penetrate."
Ignoring her second interruption, Aubrey paces towards the far left, casual yet with purpose as she pointedly stares at a now nervous looking Mary Elise. "So, does anyone here have anything they'd like to confess?"
The bespectacled girl fidgets anxiously beneath her stare, squirming uncomfortably in her chair for several moments as she attempts to play it cool. "It was an accident!" she eventually blurts out, "And I-..."
"Turn in your scarf and go," the captain informs, cutting off whatever apology or words of regret the other girl might have said. Mary Elise hesitates, mouth miming silently as she fights to deny the inevitable. Ultimately, she retrieves the yellow scarf from her bag and quickly deposits it in the blonde's outstretched hand, too ashamed to say or do much more. "Take your chair," Aubrey informs, as she motions for the woman to stand up and leave.
"Slut," Amy coughs, as she drags her chair away, the legs screeching - painful and awkward - across the floorboards.
"Was that necessary?" Beca demands, as Mary Elise's whimpering cries fade away in the background.
"This is war, Beca!" she asserts, slamming her fist into the palm of her hand. "And it is my job to make sure that my soldiers are prepped at go time with three kick ass songs, sung and choreographed to perfection! And there are only four months until Regionals, so if you have a problem with the way I run the Bellas, then you should just-..."
Abruptly, she's cut off by the sound of her own gagging, head lurching forward as everyone else instinctively leans back. Chloe, silent in her support until this time, pulls her swiftly to the side, hand laid reassuringly against her back as she whispers, "Don't stress, Aubrey! Relax! We don't want a repeat of what happened last year."
Though she tries to remain quiet, the auditorium is built to carry sound, and her words echo questioningly in each Bellas minds. Lily shyly raises her hand, murmuring softly, "Uh, what happened last year?"
In typical fashion, no one hears a word she says.
Huffing, the Asian tries again, more loudly as she quietly repeats, "What happened last year?" And then, even more quietly, "And… do you guys want to see a dead body?"
She sighs with disappointment when no one responds.
Ten minutes later, Beca wonders if seeing a dead body may have been the better alternative to what she's seeing now, because, like - holy fuck, where did it all come from? She watches in morbid fascination as Aubrey projectile vomits onto the front row of last year's ICCA audience, the terrified shrieks of the crowd only amplified by the howls of laughter and repulsed cries of the Bellas that surround her now. Though she can't claim to be Aubrey's biggest fan, the DJ feels a twinge of sympathy for the senior; as hilariously unfortunate as it is, she wouldn't wish that sort of embarrassment on even her most hated enemy - to live forever in viral video infamy.
"Ooh, click on guy pukes on cat!" Stacie pleads, reaching over their shoulders to point at another video.
"Enough!" Aubrey bellows, face colored cherry red. "It happened, it's over - moving on!" Her eyes narrow into slits, glaring heatedly at the group as if daring one of them to contradict her as the younger Bellas go scrambling back into their proper seats. "Okay, first things first," she says, more calmly, "We need a vocal percussionist. Does anyone here know how to beatbox?"
Amy perks up almost instantly, raising her hand as she stands proudly. "Yeah, I do!" she proclaims, strutting her way towards the front. "I'm the best beatboxer in Tasmania," she declares, before adding cheekily, "... with hair."
"I'll give you a demo," she continues, clearing her throat as she lifts a fist to her mouth in imitation of a mic. "Dogs and cats, and dogs and cats, and whoop whoop!" She makes a weird series of noises, gurgling somewhere from the back of her throat, "pew bow bow bow, dogs and cats, and… PLAAAA EXPLOSION!"
Beca nearly does the impossible, choking on a mixture of air and her own saliva as she stifles her laughter, eyes tearing with silent mirth as she watches several other Bellas leap at the sudden eruption of noise, while Lily's face is a blank slate of emotion, and Cynthia Rose grimaces, looking downright offended by the whole ordeal.
"Powww…" Amy persists softly, despite the lack of enthusiasm for her performance, "... explosion!… all-the-animals-are-dead…"
"Okay, so!" Aubrey jumps in, laying her hand gently atop the Aussie's and slowly lowering it away. "That would be a no."
'A hard no,' Beca silently agrees, as Amy shrugs nonchalantly and returns to her seat; though the larger blonde's beatboxing is akin to nails on a chalkboard, she'll give her credit for the interesting improv, and grins as she holds out her fist for the other freshman to bump.
"We will practice every day for at least two hours, seven days a week, and I trust you will add your own cardio."
Beca, still goofing off with Amy, feels the smile slip from her lips as Aubrey's instructions reach her ears. "Why cardio?" she balks, mouth agape; not that it's necessarily an issue for her, it's still a ridiculous expectation for a singing choir.
"Yeah, no!" Amy concurs, waving her hand in the air. "Don't put me down for cardio."
Aubrey scowls at the two, but dismisses their comments as she strives to push through introductions and get to the real meat and bones of their practice. "Moving on," she commands once again, handing a stack of papers to Chloe to distribute amongst the girls, "This is a list of all the songs we've performed, and you will notice that we only do songs made famous by women."
Beca takes one look at the compilation and notices far more than just that. "There's nothing from this century on here," she scoffs, thumbing through the pages.
"Because we don't stray from tradition," Aubrey replies, unwavering in her resolve. "Our focus is on perfecting our repertoire, which is why we're the best all female group in the country." Flipping her white board, she grabs a pointer stick and begins to tick off all their tasks for the day. "Now, let's start with some vocal warm ups, practice scales, followed by arpeggios, and then work our way up to choreography. Any questions?"
Stacie's hand flies into the air. "Yeah, I think you said spaghetti-o's and I'm starving! When's lunch?"
"Arpeggios," the blonde captain repeats.
"Like… the island?" she asks, hesitantly.
"That's an archipelago," Aubrey corrects, her patience clearly fading. "I'm talking about arpeggio."
"So, the artist?" she tries again, voice rising in question.
"No, that's… that's Michelangelo. I'm saying arpeggio. AR-PEG-GI-O," she sounds out. "The singing of a sequence of chords in ascending or descending succession - any of that ring a bell?"
A look of understanding finally passes Stacie's face. "Ohh," she nods, before turning around, face hidden behind a hand as she mouths, "I still don't get it?" to the others.
"When is lunch, though?" Amy inquires, and Aubrey looks like she might start to cry.
"God help me," she pleads.
"Okay, I'm calling it!"
With a collective sigh of relief, the Bellas - led by Chloe - drop from their choreographed poses and hobble their way to the bleachers to gather their things, hoping to get out of there before Aubrey has a change of heart. Beca, having kept her thoughts to herself throughout the majority of practice, chooses then to speak up, cautiously approaching the senior captain as she asks, "Hey, Aubrey? Did we just learn the same choreography from that video?"
The blonde spares only a momentary glance in return, snatching a stack of papers from the piano, which she dutifully hands out to the surrounding women. "Okay, don't forget to pick up your performance schedules," she reminds, waving the forms in the air. "We have a gig next week! That's right - next week!"
"It's Sigma Beta Theta's annual Fall Mixer," Chloe explains helpfully, as she sidles up beside her co-leader.
"Okay, hands in Bellas!" Aubrey instructs, as she and the redhead lay their hands atop one another's. "Hands in, aca-bitches!" she screeches, when no one moves. Instantly, the remaining women thrust their hands into the circle, sharing scared, anxious looks as they finally do as told. "Sing ahh-..."
"Ahhhhh~!" Amy belts, enthusiastically.
"No, no, no!" she scolds, shaking her head. "That's actually on three, Fat Amy. On three. One… two…"
It's a mess, a complete, and utter mess; no one is in sync as they thoroughly butcher the entire thing, much to their leader's ever growing frustrations. Her eyes are hardened, lips pulled thin in a grimace, and if looks could kill, Aubrey would have just committed mass murder. Feigning a smile, she more cheerfully declares, "Okay, we will work on that first thing next time!"
Beca shuffles away with her fellow freshman, hoping to make a quick escape, and nearly withers on the spot as she's requested to stay behind "Sup?" she asks, as she makes a slow, hesitant return.
"You know you'll have to take those ear monstrosities out for the Fall Mixer," says Aubrey, indicating to the younger woman's numerous piercings.
"You really don't like me, do you?" Beca surmises, a half amused smirk teasing her lips as she takes in the disdainful look upon the blonde's face. She had noticed it almost immediately upon their first meeting, the way Aubrey would look down at her, as though she were some inferior being, simply for the way she looked and how she carried herself.
"I don't like your attitude," she states, curtly.
"You don't even know me," the DJ retorts, shaking her head; she doesn't know why, but she's somehow disappointed. This Aubrey is a far cry from the person Chloe makes her out to be, not nearly as understanding, nor as kind as she'd been led to believe.
"I know you have a toner for Jesse," she accuses harshly, eyes narrowed.
Beca blinks. "What?" she gasps. What the hell was a toner? Printer ink?
"A toner… a musical boner," Aubrey explains, "I saw you leave with him at Hood night, and while I caught Kori and Mary Elise in the act, I don't have solid proof against you - yet. But I know you spent the night with him, and-..."
"Actually, she spent the night with me."
Beca's head snaps to the left, and she can literally feel herself break out into a cold, awkward sweat as Stacie saunters her way towards them, a smug, playful grin on her lips as she drapes an arm around the shorter brunette. Leaning closer to the two, she gives a conspiratorial glance around the room, as if to make sure no one's listening, and then whispers gleefully, "I totally made her scream this morning."
"Oh my god, Stacie! No!" Beca wails, her face flaming red as she buries it into the palm of her hand. "You're not supposed to tell anyone!"
"Oh, now you're being self-conscious?" she grins, cradling the smaller Bella's face against her chest. "I don't remember you being so shy when you were motorboating these babies earlier…"
Beca pries her way out of Stacie's generous bosom, frantically attempting to explain herself to the equally embarrassed Aubrey, who can only stare at the two in dumbfounded silence. "It's not like that!" she cries, beseechingly. "I mean, yeah… w-we shared a bed, and I guess we slept together, but… but not like that! I wasn't fully aware of what was happening, or… I mean, I like… okay, I-I may have… nuzzled her chest, and she was naked, but-..."
"Oh, no! No, no, no!" Aubrey shouts, desperately waving her hands at Beca to stop. "I don't want to hear the details! It… it's, it's, it's…" If Bece weren't so mortified, she thinks she'd find the senior's lack of coherency comical; instead, she can only pray for her death to be swift and merciful, for the ground to swallow her whole and never spit her back out. "I-I'm sorry, I just-... I mean, if you're attracted to the fairer sex, by all means, you love who you love. We… uh, we the Bellas, as an organization, don't discriminate based on sexual preference or who you choose to let into your pants - Trebles not included, of course. So long as it doesn't become a distraction during rehearsals or in competition, it's… it's a complete non-issue. Are… are we good on that?"
For all her strength and speed, Beca is powerless to respond, merely squeaking along in agreement as Stacie nods and throws Aubrey a mock salute. "Aye, aye, Cap'n!" she pledges, tossing in a flirtatious wink for added effect. The older Bella masks her choke of surprise behind a hacking cough, excusing the two brunettes with a dismissive wave as she turns to her board and busies herself with cleaning it.
"Come on, babe," Stacie grins, slipping her hand into Beca's. The shorter girl falters at the touch, but her mind is blank, eyes glazed over, and all she can do is follow along in a stupefied daze.
Once outside, away from the stifling confines of their awkward conversation, she finally seems to gather her bearings, yanking away from the other freshman with a harsh tug. "Oh my fuck!" she squawks, indignantly, cheeks ablaze with the color pink. "What… what just happened? What did you do? Now Aubrey is going to think-… auggh!" She staggers over the words and their implications, mind running a mile a minute, filled with apprehension and doubt.
"Whoa, Beca, chill," Stacie chastises, laying a placating hand atop her narrow shoulders. "Hakuna your tatas, alright? I just saved your ass back there, and Aubrey's probably so humiliated, she'll lay off your case for at least the rest of the week. I mean, really, you could try saying thank you?" She sounds annoyed, but appears amused, and Beca isn't sure which one she truly is, but guilt sits at the forefront of her conscious, and though she's mortified by the whole ordeal, she knows she owes Stacie for bailing her out again.
A defeated sigh escapes her lips, and she attempts to convey as much sincerity into her voice as she apologizes, "Look, I'm sorry. You just really caught me off guard, and I'm usually a very private person, so I don't like having my business shared with others unless absolutely necessary. I didn't mean to spaz out on you like that, and I really am grateful for all your help. Not just now, but for last night too. I didn't really thank you properly this morning for taking care of me, so… thanks. I really do appreciate you looking out for me like that, and I just want you to know that it… it means a lot."
Stacie's smile is fond, and her eyes affectionate as she readily accepts Beca's apology. "Don't worry about it, I wasn't even mad. Just, y'know… try and loosen up a bit," she suggests. "We're not all out to get you!" She smacks a kiss against Beca's cheek with a playful "mwah!" and ruffles her hair before waving goodbye, leaving the shorter girl to stare after her in stunned silence.
Beca wonders if it's something in the water at Barden, or if there's magic juju in the air, but she's never come across a place where so many people were willing to go out of their way to help and befriend her. First Chloe, then Jesse, and now Stacie; never before had she had anyone - let alone three people - so happy and eager to watch her back, without expecting anything in return. It was a strange, but not wholly unpleasant, feeling to say the least; something she thinks she might even be able to get used to if it persists.
A small smile creases her lips at the thought, but she reminds herself not to get too attached to the idea; she's learnt time and time again - her own family as the greatest example - that even people you care about and love can still let you down, and are not above disappointing or hurting you. Still, she thinks it wouldn't be such a bad thing to expand her social circle, and to try and at least make friends with those she interacts with on a daily basis; after all, if she's going to be forced into spending so much time with them, she may as well attempt to get along.
Resolving to at least try and make herself more approachable, Beca readjusts the strap of her bag and begins to head towards the quad, thinking she'll get some mixing done while soaking up the sunshine. She makes it no further than a yard before Chloe comes barreling after her, calling her name as she jogs quickly to catch up. Pausing mid-step, she turns and waits, brow raised in a quizzical expression as the ginger hurries after her.
"Hey!" she greets, somewhat breathlessly. "What was that all about? I've never seen Aubrey so flustered before…"
Beca's cheeks, which have only just begun to cool, heat up in another blush as she runs an anxious hand through her scalp. "It was just a really big misunderstanding," she murmurs, shyly averting her gaze. "Aubrey was, uh… well, she was accusing me of sleeping with Jesse, but then Stacie came up and said I spent the night with her. Which is true, but… not in the way she made it seem."
There's mischief in Chloe's eyes as she grins and asks, "And how did she make it seem?"
"You saw her grope herself continuously throughout practice," Beca scowls, "You were right there, next to her. You tried to correct her, and Stacie only touched herself more. So how else do you think she made it seem?"
"She made it seem like you two had sex," Chloe states bluntly, much to the younger girl's dismay. "No wonder Aubrey kept mumbling how it 'explains all the flannel', or whatever..."
"She said what!?" Beca cries, incensed by the blonde's baseless assumptions, and stereotyping. "That's not… flannel is comfortable, and i-it's warm, and… I get cold easily!"
"I'm teasing," Chloe reassures, nudging her gently with her elbow. "But if you two weren't "doin' the do", how did you end up in Stacie's room?"
"That one I'm still trying to figure out myself," Beca shrugs, "Like I said earlier, I don't really remember much after I dropped Jesse off at his dorm. Stacie said she found me sleeping under a tree on the way back, so she took me in for the night. That's basically all I know."
"Remind me to keep my eye on you during the next aca-party," Chloe muses, half-seriously. "I don't think this wee lil freshman is quite ready to handle her jiggle juice without adult supervision."
"Hey!" she protests, bristling with indignation. "For starters I am an adult, and am fully capable of watching out for myself. Secondly, don't think I'm some lightweight who knocks out after the first beer… I could drink you under the table, seven ways til Sunday, and then some."
"Big talk for such a little person," the redhead counters with a wink, earning a huff of irritation from her companion.
"Y'know what? Just for that, I won't be walking you to class," she quips, crossing her arms in a show of defiance.
"Wait, you were going to walk me to class?" Chloe asks, perking up at the offhanded comment. "Aww, you can't just say something like that and then not do it!"
"Yeah, well you can't just make comments about my size and expect me to play nice," Beca replies, stubbornly. "So what're you gonna do about it?"
"But I was only kidding!" Chloe whines, lower lip jutting in a pout as she tugs gently at the DJ's sleeve. "I didn't mean it! Walk me to class… pleaaaase!"
"Nope, you're on your own Beale," she declares, shuffling away from the now sulking redhead, who stares after the retreating freshman with sad, doe-like eyes. 'Don't look back,' she tells herself, becoming an internal mantra as she hears the way Chloe sniffles, and stomps her foot petulantly against the pavement. 'Don't look back… don't look back… don't loo-...'
She glances back, and curses loudly.
…
Five minutes later, Beca finds herself arm in arm with a gleeful Chloe, the triumphant grin spread across dimpled cheeks almost enough to make up for the fact that, in less than half a semester, she's become completely and utterly whipped. Almost.
'But then again,' she thinks, as the senior shyly slips her hand into her own, 'it's not a bad trade off.'
Please leave a review, and let me know what you think of the fic so far! Thanks for reading!