Though his attention was oddly riveted onstage at the Sockapellas, (an a capella car wreck – he could not look away. Even if he turned his head away, his eyes would. not. disengage.) his body was definitely aware when the Bellas had entered the building. It seemed that the suggestion of Beca's presence was the only thing that would break this sick connection.

He was finally able to avert his gaze from the stage to the entryway and glimpsed the group of darkly dressed ladies. The stage lights threw a soft glow on Beca's profile, standing in the front of the group as she watched the competition, and he could see her chest heaving slightly as she caught her breath.

It had only been a little over a week since they had kissed. In some ways, nothing had changed. They were both busy with their respective groups getting ready for regionals, and keeping up with classes. Shifts, ironically, did not overlap at the radio station. Meal schedules didn't really align, with all their extra practices.

But in small ways, that meant infinitely more, things had altered. Something big was on the horizon. Like, on a whim in the college store, he snapped a picture of a toothbrush and sent it to her, with the text, "For the next time you sleep over."

Beca's response? "Is my mouth going to be doing something dirty?"

Gulp. (He bought the toothbrush.)

This initiated a string of texts about fingers as toothbrushes, and other uses for fingers, etc., etc. that had him blushing like a tween. In his crate of CDs three days ago, he had found a packet of Kool Aid with a post-it that said: In case you need an excuse to initiate a sleepover. Heard KJ planning a gaming marathon with the buds.

It was the first time he'd ever seen her handwriting. And she'd signed the note, simply, with a large, flourishy B.

Yesterday, he purposely skipped his Intro to Lit Comp course and waited outside the gymnasium for her to get out of volleyball because he needed to see her, touch her, kiss her again. As she stumbled out, loose sweats hanging off her hips and her white uniform t-shirt clinging to her chest, he called out to her.

"Hey, Misty May!"

She stopped and deliberately slow-turned his way, the glare in her eyes not quite matching the smile that was being restrained on her lips. "Don't let the coach catch you here," she said, walking up to him. "She's not a fan."

"Of the Trebles?" he asked, tugging on his hoodie to hide the logo under his backpack strap.

"No, of men." She pointedly looked at his crotch. "Bit harder to hide, isn't it?"

"Especially when you're around," Jesse replied, stepping toward her with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm, dragging him out into the sunny patio by the auxiliary gym, a relatively quiet, low-traffic area where they were unlikely to run into anyone. They dropped onto a bench and caught up on their week, Beca telling him stories of Aubrey's intense practices while he played with the stack of leather bracelets on her arm. If she noticed he had taken her appendage into his keeping, she didn't comment. In fact, she leaned her body toward his, tucking her leg up onto the bench. The smell of her sweat and her shampoo, coupled with the sun in her hair and the ease with which she sat with him, were lulling him into a near drunken state of euphoria.

"Oh, and the outfits," she continued, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Wait till you see the outfits."

"You forget, I have seen it. In various parts and pieces," he said.

"Yeah, but altogether? It's total airline attendant meets deb. I don't even know where they GOT those short-sleeve jackets."

"I'm sure you'll look amazing in it," Jesse says, looking down and catching her eye. "If you can make gym sweats and a sport bra look good, you can make anything look good."

Beca started, sitting up straight away from him, remembering how gross she looked (and probably smelled). "Ugh, I'm disgusting. How can you be near me right now?"

"You're beautiful. I'd vote for nearer if you're interested in my actual opinion," he said, his eyes searching out hers. He leaned in slightly, keeping his eyes on hers for signs of retreat, and her hand slid up his arm from the elbow to rest lightly on his bicep. Just as her eyes began to flutter closed, they heard,

"HEY FLAT BUTT!"

They both started and turned to see Amy signaling from 30 yards away, her arms gesturing as if she were bringing a 747 in for a landing. She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled again.

"EMERGENCY PRACTICE, PRONTO! Wrap up that man candy for later!"

Beca flushed, jumped and shouldered her bag in record time. "Sorry," she said, pulling her hand out of his grasp, "but Amy has THE biggest mouth, and if she gets there first…"

"Yeah, go," Jesse said, standing as well. "I'll see you tomorrow night. Can't wait for the fashion show."

Later that night, Beca texted him a picture of her Bella's scarf tied around her wrist, headphone tattoo prominently displayed. It was labeled, "I used this to shut Fat Amy up." He asked if she was referring to her tiny fist, or her scarf, and also sent her the link to the "I'm Too Sexy" video.

And now, he bounced a little on his toes in the dark as the Sockapellas retreated from the stage and the Bellas did their warm up chant (unsuccessfully). As she had said, this was the first time he was seeing her in the entire ensemble, not to mention, WITH the entire ensemble in a competition. He wanted to see her, but he wanted to hear her sing as well. He knew she wasn't soloing, but he would bet Benji's Dave Blain DVD collection that he could pick out her vocals from the mix, with ease.

As the Bellas mounted the stage, it took Jesse a second to find Beca's legs in the mix, so little had he seen of them. She was a Katherine Hepburn-type girl, always in pants. All those pairs of black heels looked the same, though all the legs definitely did not. He finally found her, her adorable calf muscle bulging from the height and her knees a little awkward, as he recalled the first day he saw her sporting those heels.

Jesse was laying under the radio station desk with a flashlight in his teeth and a small putty knife in his hand. It was the 80s lunch hour and the DJ on deck was sporting some Fine Young Cannibals, which he was not ashamed to sing along to, in his best falsetto. It was a week after the aca-initiation, and he was looking forward to seeing Beca today to tease her yet again about the fact that she was a Bella.

Just as he started thinking about her, two black heels came into his peripheral vision, complete with socks and rolled up pants. He sat up slightly, pulling the flashlight out of his teeth and squinting out of his den up at Beca.

"Tell me about it," he said, sweeping his eyes from her feet to her head, "Stud."

She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, and then slung her bag on the desk.

"What," she said, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to one leg, "are you doing in there?"

"Well, just as the top of the desk if off limits for any kind of reproductive liquids, apparently, there is also a no-tolerance policy for items that may be adhered underneath. Mostly, gum – though I've come across a stray booger or two," he said, holding up the putty knife.

"Wow, Luke REALLY hates you," she said, a laugh pulling at her lips.

"And Aubrey must really hate you. That can be the only reason you're sporting this Material Girl look," he said gesturing to her feet. She sighed and plopped down on the nearest chair, kicking the heels off in a shuffle of leather. She pulled her socks off and brandished her swollen toes and raw heels in his direction.

"And all I got was a hoodie," he joked. "Those look painful."

"We have to wear them all week," she said, rolling up her socks and tossing them toward her bag. "You know I was voted most-likely-to-mutiny, but I also don't want to have blisters all season or fall on my face. Though that wouldn't be worse than puking on the audience, so, relief there." Beca leaned over to grab the shoes and wedge them back on.

Jesse sat up all the way, smacking his head off the desk. "Are you crazy? Just go barefoot," he said, rubbing his head.

"First of all, in here? Ew. Secondly, like I said, I need to break them in," Beca said, standing tentatively and walking toward her crate on the desk.

Jesse lay back down with his putty knife and took in her feet. The delicate bones were set off by the cut of the shoe, and a tiny vein pulsed as it led up her to ankle. She must have leaned over toward his crate, because her right foot popped a bit in the air, pointed back as she kept her balance. He was mesmerized by this incredibly feminine part of her; so far, the Beca he knew was kind of a non-conformist smartass. The longer he checked out her feet in those shoes, the more he was imagining them in other positions; namely, wrapped around his waist as he pressed her against a shelf of CDs, his open mouth scaling the line of her jugular as she gripped his hair and breathed his name…

"Weirdo." He started back to reality to see Beca bent over and peering at him under the edge of the desk.

"Yeah, hm, what?"

"Don't get all Tarantino on me about the shoes, ok?"

Now it was Jesse's turn to narrow his eyes, though when Beca turned to walk away, he may or may not have sat up to watch.

Aubrey's pitch pipe brought him back to Regionals – Jesse Swanson, present and accounted for. He was missing the opening bars of Ace of Base, and like everyone in the audience, focused in on Aubrey's solo in anticipation of Upchuck: The Sequel. Once she cleared it, his focus went back to Beca, her face a disinterested expression as she moved into the formation for "Eternal Flame." The pumping heart shape she half-heartedly pulsed made him snort silently to himself, but drew his attention to her dangerously unbuttoned button-down, and his memory to his first encounter with said garment…

It was raining as Jesse yanked open the door of the student union and dashed in, pushing his hood off his head. It was raining, and that always made him crave a strawberry milkshake. He would just run by the Barden Beverage counter on his way to…

On his way to see Beca, apparently, who was camouflaged by a giant potted palm in the corner of the union, deeply immersed in her headphones and the laptop that rested on her propped-up legs. The riff-off was two nights ago and he was looking for an opportunity to get his suggested movie education (and obligatory alone time with the lights out that accompanied it) scheduled. This appeared to be it.

He stooped and drew closer, parting the palm to peek through. "Whatcha doin'?"

Beca started, her legs dropping as she grabbed on to her laptop to save it from a crash worse than death. "Jesus, you scared me," she accused, hoisting her laptop back up with one hand while the other eased the headphones to rest on her shoulders. It was then that Jesse noticed she was wearing a white button-down, with more buttons open than were secured. As Beca closed her laptop and bent to slide it into her bag, he glimpsed the edge of a nude bra peeking through the gap, a flirty lace border dropping a slight shadow onto her pale breast.

Beca looked up in time to catch his guilty eye as it popped from her cleavage back to her face.

"What?" she said, her cheek coloring.

"What are you wearing? Are you bussing tables at the Bev?" he asked, pointing toward the soda shop down the corridor.

"Yeah, didn't you see my saddle shoes and the perky bow in my hair?" Perky brought Jesse's gaze back to her chest, which made Beca draw her open drapey cardigan across her with both hands, effectively ending his peep show. Beca sighed.

"It's another Aubrey wardrobe mandate. Button-downs all week to prepare for our competition outfits. She wants to make sure we all know how to wear them without falling out of them, after what happened to Janet."

"You mean, Ms. Jackson?" Jesse quickly retorted.

"Only if you're nasty," she said, biting her cheek to keep from giving him the satisfaction of a grin.

"And…are you successful at…staying in?" Most awkward conversation ever. Must keep eyes on face. Must not check to see if any falling is occurring at said moment.

"Except for when I was in my Feminist, Gender & Sexuality class yesterday, already taking a verbal whipping from the prof, and I accidentally dropped a Cheeto down there, everything's been great."

"Was there a Cheeto recovery team, because if you need a hand, or two – "

"No, no, no, everything is in tip top shape – or is it tit top?" Beca stared off into the distance as she considered. With an intake of breath she was back. "I only have this one button-down, I'm not really a button-down girl, so I keep having to wash it every night. And why am I telling you all this?"

"I have no idea. Why don't you tell me more about the adventures of your cleavage over milkshakes?" He said, offering his hand to pull her out of the seat.

The pounding of the mic on Amy's chest brought him back to realize that he was missing most of their number in all his ruminations on Beca's wardrobe. He watched her circle around as the beginnings of "Turn the Beat Around" sounded out, her pale legs flashing under the short skirt, and he couldn't help one more flashback…

As he headed down the hall toward her room, laptop and DVD in hand, singing a little Robert Palmer (damn that 80s lunch hour – she's so fine, there's no telling where the money went/she's so fine, there's no other way to go), he could make out some voices coming from behind her door, one of them being Beca's.

Voices? Beca didn't talk to Kimmy-Jin. Perhaps their viewing of A Beautiful Mind last week had really affected her…

He paused outside her cracked door, falling silent, to overhear this exchange:

"No way, Chloe."

"I'm telling you, just let me do this. Trust me, you'll like it."

"I don't think that's…huh. Yeah, I guess that's not bad."

"Right? Beca, you've got killer gams. You need to show them off."

"Uh, yeah, okay. Could you just move your hand to…oh yeah. That's even better."

"I knew you'd come around. You're not a Bella until you've done a little…experimenting."

"Oh, Chloe, I should have known…after the shower…" Beca's voice was a little breathy, and the open ended-ness of that sentence caused Jesse to step closer to the door. She never did tell him what happened after alluding to that incident. Also, he was slightly jealous that anyone, male or female, was making her breathy if it wasn't him. In addition to jealousy, he was slightly aroused as any red-blooded male would be in this voyeuristic moment.

Another Baker Hall resident passed by as Jesse stalked by the open door; he gave her a brief smile and nod, though she threw him a suspicious look. He heard her pause after passing him and call out, "Mitchell, there's a stalker by your door," before continuing on.

He rolled his eyes and straightened just in time to face a doorway full of Beca, her hand on the jamb and she and Chloe dissolved in giggles. She was wearing a tight purple cami with a lacy top, and her performance skirt, all pinned up around the hem, along with the death-by-heels shoes.

"WHAT was going on in here?" Jesse asked, a timid grin on his lips.

"Oh, we just thought we'd give you an earful," Chloe said, gathering up her straight pins and measuring tape from the floor.

Beca was doubled over, laughing. "I wish…I could have seen…your face," she heaved, nearly toppling into him.

He threw an arm around her waist, pulling her against his hip to steady her, noting how easily she moved into his orbit and how she didn't shy away from this touch.

"Well, how'd you know it was me?"

"Because you've been singing that song all day!" she said in exasperation.

"And here I was, worried that all that serenading was going to waste while you were playing for the other team," he joked, glancing at Chloe.

"Oh, I know she's completely kissable – but off limits," Chloe winked as Beca straightened and choked a little.

"Dude no, I'm not a Lilith Faire girl, just to be clear," Beca said, hand on hip.

"Got it, got it. I'll leave you guys alone – three's a crowd, at least in this case." Chloe edged out of the room, leaving Beca, with all her skin exposure, and Jesse, hand awkwardly on the back of his neck. Staring at each other.

She pushed him back into the hallway. "Just let me change!" she said, closing the door on him.

And, boy, had she changed. Beca continued to morph from this standoffish recluse with a passion for pitch and a vendetta against all well-meaning humans, into a reluctant friend, then to a flirty sidekick, to a girl that he didn't think he could do without. He found a new reason to love her every minute of every day.

Even now, when he didn't think he could physically find her more appealing than he already did, watching her strut around in that Bella's uniform was kind of a major turn on. All those memories behind all the wardrobe elements, plus the way the entire thing hugged her in all the right places, and the simplicity of her hair swept up with golden hoops that caught the stage lights on that last turn, was creating a need to grab her as soon as this competition was over, regardless of who won, and sneak away to some broom closet or breakout room to demand all the kisses he'd missed out on over the week.

And he noticed, as he had those thoughts, as Fat Amy continued to drop bombs on Miami Sound Machine, the light in her eyes. Beca was overwhelmingly amused and delighted by this performance, for whatever reason. She was having fun on stage, watching Amy and fulfilling her choreographic mission. The way her eyes crinkled and her smile would not quit were giving him even more reasons to love her.

Oh yes. In the famous words of Cher Horowitz, he was majorly, totally, butt crazy in love with Beca. And the Barden world was soon going to know it.

Jesse clapped enthusiastically for the Bellas, heedless of Bumper's glare of warning, and caught Beca's eye for a tease as the group filed past. He was practically bouncing to get on stage and charm the boy shorts off her, with plans to follow that charming later with some good, old-fashioned, hot and heavy, making out.

Yes, that was definitely how tonight was going to go. It was inevitable.

Thanks for sticking with this fic - sorry I have been slow to update. Schedule changes have given me very little free/alone time to work on drafting.

Songs:

Right Said Fred - I'm Too Sexy

Fine Young Cannibals - She Drives Me Crazy

Robert Palmer - Simply Irresistible

Tell me what other allusions you saw/noticed/caught :-) I love to know who is clicking along with my crazy brain...

Appreciate your reviews and comments!