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lets-talk-appella · 3 years ago

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Please Send Thoughts and Prayers to Ukraine

(A Bechloe Fic that avoids discussion of the real world)

Thank you to @177-8 for participating in the Pitch Perfect Fandom Drive! For more information visit https://ppfandomdrive.tumblr.com/post/677587307639996416/ukraine-is-currently-being-invaded-by-russia"

Summary: Beca just wants to leave Barden and become a producer. Chloe just wants Beca to consider auditioning for The Bellas. As such, Chloe has been a bit of a thorn in Beca's side for weeks, so she is less than thrilled when they're paired together for a class project that makes them parents... sort of. Written for Pitch Perfect Fandom Drive for Ukraine.

Word Count: 11k

Rating: T

Ao3 and FFN

Day 1

“Wait, seriously?”

Laughter rippled through the packed classroom at the anonymous outburst, though Beca Mitchell had to agree with whoever had spoken; the Health Studies professor had to be out of her mind if she thought her students were going to do that.

“Yes, seriously,” replied Professor Lorenz dryly as she surveyed the classroom for the source of the interruption. “Taking care of a baby proxy is an excellent demonstration of life’s potential responsibilities, and a good exercise in… self-restraint.”

Beca rolled her eyes as laugher once again rolled around the room. A few rows in front of her, some frat-looking boys elbowed each other.

“That’s enough, quiet now, please,” said Professor Lorenz, glaring hard around the class. Once the laughter had died away, she continued, “This will be a group project, for which I will be assigning partners. For the next week, you and your partner will have to spend a significant amount of time together caring for your bouncing, brand new baby… which will take the form,” she announced grandly, “of a five-pound bag of flour.”

Now, instead of amusement, displeasure cut through the atmosphere of the classroom. The people around Beca muttered to their neighbors unhappily. Though she stayed quiet, she agreed with them: What the hell was this lady thinking?

Professor Lorenz wasn’t done. “You will have the flour baby for five days,” she said to general groans. “Take care of it, make sure it stays safe, and work with your partner to get it back here to me on Friday after class, undamaged. Damaged or destroyed flour babies will score a zero for this project, which accounts for 20% of your final grade.”

Beca wanted to vanish. It was Monday; five days was too long to babysit an inanimate baking foundation.

A hand shot up at the front of the classroom. With a sharp spike of annoyance tinged with something less identifiable, Beca saw the hand was attached to someone with long red hair. Someone irritatingly familiar.

Professor Lorenz waved in the general direction of the questioning hand. “Miss Beale?”

“Yes hi,” said Chloe, loudly enough for everyone to hear her. “That exercise sounds totes awesome, but isn’t that more of a high school thing? Like, why do we have to do this in college?”

Beca shifted in her chair uncomfortably; who says things like “totes” in class? Or at all?

“Because I’m bored and not paid enough,” said Professor Lorenz shortly. “Doing this to students every semester is the one joy I get from this adjunct position. Any other questions?”

Several other hands shot up, but Professor Lorenz ignored them completely in favor of pulling up a spreadsheet and sending it to the projector, broadcasting it so the students could see. “I’ve assigned partners here,” she said, gesturing to the screen. “Find your partner and introduce yourself, get to know them. You’re now co-parents, after all,” she grinned rather wickedly. “And after, come see me at the front of the room to pick up your newborn.”

“That’s so messed up,” the girl next to Beca muttered as she scooped up her laptop to find her partner.

Beca privately agreed. She didn’t want to be at Barden in the first place, and now she had to do stupid things like this.

With freaking Chloe Beale as her partner, she realized with dawning horror, taking in the spreadsheet. She blinked, clearing her eyes, trying to make herself see that someone else–anyone else–was her partner, but no. She found her name on the screen, and there, next to it, was clearly listed: Chloe Beale.

Shit.

Beca glanced toward Chloe automatically, only to make direct eye contact; Chloe was already waving and smiling shyly at her.

“Not happening,” Beca muttered, even as Chloe picked up her laptop and moved toward her. “No way.”

This assignment would be bad enough without someone who had barged in on her shower as her partner. And yet…

“Hi!” Chloe said cheerfully, taking the newly vacated seat next to Beca. “This is crazy, right? I didn’t even know you were in this class, too!”

Beca tried to smile vaguely, but her face felt stiff.

“I mean,” Chloe continued, “technically, I should have taken this my freshman year, but I was trying to get out of it and hoping they would change the requirements by the time I was a senior so I wouldn’t have to—but anyway, here we are! This is aca-mazing.”

Beca grunted.

Chloe’s smile fell slightly. “I… you do, like, remember me, right? From the Activities Fair? I’m a Barden Bella?”

Beca felt herself grimace.

“You know,” Chloe insisted impatiently, “From the showers? You were singing and I—”

“Burst in like a serial killer?” Beca blurted.

Chloe’s expression fell further. “Oh, well, I…”

“Listen, can we just—can we just get the flour baby thing?” Beca asked, running a hand through her hair. “I’m not really—let’s not talk about the shower, okay?”

“Okay,” said Chloe uneasily. “Um, sure. So, um, how do you want to make arrangements?”

Beca let her eyes slide closed. This was so not ideal.

“It’s just, Professor Lorenz said we should do this together?” Chloe said, her voice rising in pitch, making the statement into a question. “And I’m not sure how to—”

“Um, can we just, like, take turns with it maybe?” Beca said. “I don’t want to—I think that would be easiest,” she caught herself.

Chloe nodded uncertainly. “Shared custody can work.”

“Great,” said Beca, without meaning it. “We can trade off days or something. You want it first?”

Chloe’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I have a Bellas thing tonight. Can you take it?”

Dammit.

“Fine,” Beca huffed. “Great.”

“We should exchange numbers, so we can meet up to trade off,” Chloe said. “Can I…?” she trailed off, handing Beca her phone.

Another spike of annoyance pierced Beca; it had been bad enough this girl has been bugging her about the singing group, even barging into her shower. Did Chloe really need to have her number, too?

As if reading her mind, Chloe said, “I’ll just use it for class things, I promise. No Bella talk.”

Skeptical, but not seeing another viable option that would get her a passing grade in the class, Beca put her number into Chloe’s phone. Chloe took it back once she was done and typed on it, and a second later, Beca felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. “There,” Chloe said. “Now you have my number too.”

“Great,” repeated Beca. “Well, if there’s nothing else, I’ll go get the thing.”

“The baby. Our baby,” Chloe corrected.

Beca stared. Chloe was being serious. “Sure,” she said eventually. “That. I’ll get it.”

She rose from her chair, stuffing her laptop into her bag. Around them, other partners were still chatting and getting to know each other. Few had wrapped up their conversations as quickly as she and Chloe had.

“Well,” said Chloe, also standing. “I’m looking forward to partnering with you!”

“Uh huh,” Beca said, already moving to the front of the room. “See you tomorrow to trade off.”

“Bye!” Chloe called out.

Beca didn’t reply. She made her way to the front of the room, where Professor Lorenz was waiting with a huge pile of flour sacks.

“Already done getting to know your partner?” the professor asked as Beca drew close.

“We’ve met before,” Beca muttered.

Professor Lorenz looked at her for a moment. “Well, here you go then,” she said brusquely, handing over a bag of flour. “Good luck!”

Beca forced a painful smile as she took the heavy pantry staple that was supposed to be her and Chloe’s baby. “Thanks.”

She’d need all the luck she could get.

**********

Beca scanned the quad, looking for bright blonde. She had time before the next class and knew Amy would be waiting for her, probably finishing her lunch at one of the picnic tables strewn across the green space in the center of campus.

Sure enough, Beca spotted Amy’s hair and moved toward her quickly, weaving through throngs of students to reach her table. Though they’d only met briefly at the Activities Fair, she’d run into Amy around campus often enough that they’d started hanging out regularly.

As Beca drew closer to the table, Amy squinted up at her. “Why do you look like a sad village bread maker?” she asked.

Immediately annoyed, Beca slammed the bag of flour down on the table, rattling Amy’s almost-finished tray of bland cafeteria food. “I’m auditioning for a play,” she replied as sarcastically as she could.

“Oh really?” Amy’s eyebrows rose. “Is it Fiddler on the Roof? Because I have some tips to make it super Jewish.”

“No,” Beca grumbled, taking her seat. “It’s a weird assignment thing, like a baby assignment.”

Amy stared uncomprehendingly at the flour.

“Like we have to take care of it like it’s a baby,” Beca sighed.

Amy still didn’t say anything, her stare moving to rest instead on the front of Beca’s shirt.

Beca glanced down at the black material and saw the fine white grains of flour that clung to the fabric. “Great, nice, that’s awesome,” she groaned, dusting herself off fiercely. “It’s not even a real baby and it’s still throwing up on me.”

Amy nodded, popping a fry into her mouth. “Oh yeah, that’s a weird American thing,” she said. “We did something kind of similar except with baby koalas, though I think mine had Chlamydia. Which was not my fault.”

Beca snorted. “Yeah, I’m really hoping this flour doesn’t have Chlamydia.”

“Never know.” Amy shrugged as she finished her fries. “How long is this going on for exactly? No offense, but my boyfriends might be weirded out if you’re carrying around that flour and trailing behind me in that lost puppy way you have.”

“I don’t trail around—”

“You do actually, it’s kind of sad.”

Beca could feel a stress headache building behind her eyes. “Five days.”

“Hmm.” Amy’s mouth puckered.

“I won’t have it the whole time,” Beca said, hearing the defensiveness in her own voice. “I have a partner, I’ll just pass it to her.”

“Oh, a chick? Progressive. Or is there something you need to tell me?”

Beca shook her head. “I think it has more to do with the fact there are more girls in the class than boys. Guys. Men.”

“So who’s your partner?” Amy asked quickly.

Beca grunted noncommittally. Behind Amy, the weirdos in the club that just runs in circles were… well, running in a circle.

“Who?” Amy asked loudly, leaning forward. “Didn't catch that.”

Beca huffed, annoyed again. “Chloe Beale.”

Amy’s face contorted in confusion. Behind her, one person running in the circle tripped and fell, which tripped up everyone behind him, causing a domino effect until all circle runners were on the ground, laughing.

“Isn’t that the one who stole your boyfriend?” Amy asked slowly.

“Okay first of all, Jesse is not my boyfriend–”

“Well, he’s Chloe’s now–”

“--and he never was! He was just some guy that wouldn’t leave me alone,” Beca said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Amy winked. “Sounds like a boyfriend to me.”

“Nope,” Beca replied sharply, “And Chloe is the one who won’t leave me alone about the singing.”

Beca left out the part where Chloe burst into her shower like a maniac, even though it would have helped her point. It was just that Chloe doing that hadn’t been all that bad. Not visually, anyway.

“Oh, the Barden Bellas!” Amy said, gathering her trash from lunch. “Yeah I’m auditioning for those twig bitches.”

Beca hesitated, surprised. “You are?”

Amy nodded, a corner of her mouth quirking up. “They didn’t steal any of my boyfriends, so…”

“Not my boyfriend!”

“Ummm, yeah sure, but if she didn’t steal your boyfriend, why are you so weird about her?” asked Amy.

“What?” Beca asked. “I’m not weird about her, whatever that means, I’m just–she’s just—”

Amy’s eyebrows lifted once again.

Beca took a big breath, and then all at once, said, “She’s just annoying, okay? She won’t leave me alone, she’s always with that asshole blonde chick, she’s super, like, peppy, and happy, and just–-just a lot, and she’s so loud and just—would you stop looking at me like that?”

Amy quickly rearranged the smug expression on her face, and then, rolling her eyes, asked, “Don’t you just hate happy people?”

“Yes,” Beca replied automatically, then paused, “Well, no, she’s just–-I just don’t like her okay?”

“Hmmm.”

“Oh, and–-and! She was weird with Jesse.”

“Who is not your boyfriend.”

“Who is not my boyfriend!” agreed Beca wholeheartedly, happy that Amy was finally getting it.

“Okay, right,” said Amy, rising to throw her garbage in the nearby trash can. “Let’s take that vague and confusing hatred and turn it into something productive, like walking by that hot group of frat guys and seeing if they want my number, because they will.”

Beca laughed begrudgingly, and stood up to follow Amy over to the distant gathering of frat members.

“Fine, but I’m not talking to them. Also, it’s not hatred, and it’s not vague, it’s just–”

“You left your fake child,” Amy reminded her absentmindedly, much more focused on waving at the group of men.

“Shit,” Beca sighed, and then turned to go back for the flour. She grabbed it by the top of the bag, not really paying attention.

Amy stepped toward her, eyes fixed on the bag. “I don’t know, I wouldn’t hold it like–”

A loud ripping noise filled the air; Beca glanced down, startled, in time to see a wave of flour pour from the newly-made tear in the bag. The powdery flour coated her pants and shoes, even as the dust from it wafted up and clung to her shirt. It filled her nostrils and made her choke and sneeze. By the time the flour settled, all that was left of the bag was a mangled mess of papery material, its former contents strewn across the grass and Beca’s person.

She and Amy made stunned eye contact.

“I think you killed it,” Amy said after a pause.

“You think?” Beca snapped. “Dammit, now I’m going to fail.”

“And Chloe will too probably,” said Amy without a hint of sympathy.

Beca felt her cheeks warm unexpectedly. “Oh, that’s… I mean, she should have taken it anyway, right?” she asked Amy, a little shrilly. “Like, too bad? I mean I feel weird about it I guess but that’s her problem? Right?”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Come on, let’s go to the store. And check the date on that flour, we need it,” she added, gesturing to the tattered remains of Beca’s homework.

“Why?”

Amy grinned mischievously. “We’re going to get you a new sack.”

__________________________

Day 2

Beca destroyed the flour two more times.

It really shouldn’t be this hard to keep a flour baby alive, but apparently, it was.

The first had been with Amy in the quad. They’d done their best to hide the evidence, scattering the fallen flour as well as they could before, cradling the bag so no more would escape, taking several pictures of it to capture the brand and dates printed on it so that Professor Lorenz (and Chloe) would never know the difference. Then, they’d taken the bus to the nearest grocery store and Beca had found an identical bag of flour, down to the date printed on it.

It was easier than she expected, actually. Apparently, flour is produced in bulk. Which is a good thing, Beca reflected, considering she later had to buy two additional replacement bags.

The second destruction was completely not her fault at all. How was she supposed to know Kimmy Jin had picked up throwing darts as a hobby? And, beyond that, how was it her fault that she accidentally placed the bag of flour on a shelf in their dorm a little too close to Kimmy Jin’s dartboard? For someone with a newfound love of throwing pointy objects at a target, Kimmy Jin sure had bad aim.

Though, in hindsight, considering how Beca’s relationship with her roommate had gone so far, maybe the dart accident wasn’t really an accident after all.

After she had delicately plucked out the three darts from the flour bag, and cleaned up the rush of fine white grains that flowed from the holes created by the darts, Beca had once again gone to the store and found a new flour baby. This time when she returned to her dorm, she placed the flour safely under her desk.

The third time the flour died was maybe sort of a little her fault.

She’d dropped it. Down the stairs. Of a very crowded hallway in between classes. She had been carrying the “baby” in her arms, because she wasn’t about to put the messy, leaky thing in her backpack where the flour bits might get into her laptop.

It really had been a crowded hallway. So when someone jostled her at just exactly the wrong time at the top of the steps, it had been reflexive to shoot out a hand to grasp the railing. Which unfortunately meant the five-pound bag had slipped in her grip. She’d tried to catch it, really, she had. But, never having been particularly coordinated, the bag slipped from her arms and fell, breaking open somewhat spectacularly on the top step. Flour had cascaded down the stairs in a rush, some fine fragments drifting into the air, coating innocent passersby, making them cough and slip. Slip right down the steps.

In all, four people had fallen the ten steps down to the next landing. Thankfully, none were seriously injured, but all were seriously angry with Beca and the flour.

By the time they were done yelling and the flour had been cleaned up, the heat had faded from Beca’s face and she was left with the horrifying prospect of racing to the grocery store to replace the flour baby and return to campus in time for her planned flour exchange with Chloe. Which she did.

Overheated, panting, hoping none of the people on the stairs were in any way involved in her Health class and would rat her out, and carrying a new bag of flour in hands slick with sweat, Beca ran across campus. She knew people were staring, their heads turning to watch her progress, but her main focus was on getting the flour to Chloe on time. Chloe could take the damn thing. It would be her problem then, for a whole glorious, flour-free day.

And there ahead, outside of the gymnasium, was Chloe. Whose face split into a huge smile at the sight of Beca running toward her. Which nearly made Beca turn right around because she was so not in the mood to deal with perky right now, but good lord she needed to get rid of this flour.

“I have the thing!” Beca called out, winded, and when she was close enough, practically thrust the flour into Chloe’s waiting hands.

Chloe fumbled it for a second, which nearly made Beca’s racing heart stop, but then she got a grip on the bag and held the flour securely to her chest.

“Are you okay?” Chloe asked, as her eyebrows drew together slightly.

“Ye—yeah, let me just—” Beca leaned over to place her hands on her knees. She was basically panting, but really, all that mattered was that the flour was out of her care for an entire day.

Chloe moved closer. “Do you need, like, water or something?”

“No no, it’s— that flour—it’s freaking heavy,” replied Beca, pulling away as she caught her breath.

“Oh,” said Chloe, sounding surprised even as she subtly moved back away from Beca. “You didn’t have to run.”

“I didn’t want to be late. Thought you might leave me with it for another day.”

“I would have waited for you,” Chloe said, her eyes wide and earnest.

Beca’s chest felt strange at that comment, but she wrote if off as a cramp from running.

“Oh,” she said, taken aback. “Well, thanks.”

Chloe nodded and looked down at the flour, maybe to avoid awkward eye contact. Which was fine with Beca; she didn’t know quite what to say either.

After a moment, Beca cleared her throat. “I, uh— I mean, who takes up throwing darts? Like what’s that about?”

“What?” Chloe looked confused.

Beca wanted to kick herself. “Never mind.”

There was another small silence.

“I think we should name her!” Chloe said in a sudden rush.

Now Beca was confused. “What?”

“You know,” said Chloe, shifting the weight of the flour bag in her hands. “This. The flour. The baby, I mean. The baby-flour. We should give her a name!”

“‘Her?’”

Chloe nodded fervently. “Obviously she’s a her. I can just tell.”

This was giving Beca some not-entirely pleasant flashbacks to a bright smile and a “we’re the tits” moment.

“Okay,” Beca said slowly, starting to feel bad that she seemed to only have one-word replies in her arsenal.

“So, what do you think would be a good name?” Chloe pressed her, a little too insistently for Beca’s comfort. “I just think we should call her something other than just ‘flour bag’ every now and then. To make things more fun!”

Beca was having the exact opposite of fun. “Uh, wow…” she shifted her weight, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. “No idea, um, maybe like… um…”

“Pearl?” Chloe suggested.

Beca isn’t quite sure what face she made, but it must not have been encouraging.

“Okay, not that one,” Chloe agreed. “Um… Hannah?”

Beca shook her head, rapidly becoming bored. “Why not just Deconstructed Bread?”

Chloe laughed, but clearly thought Beca had been kidding. “Emma?”

“Flour?” Beca asked sarcastically. She did not have the bandwidth for this.

“Oh, Flower!” Chloe gasped, reaching for Beca’s arm. “I love it!”

“You do?” Beca asked, automatically flinching away from Chloe’s touch.

“It’s pretty, a fun play on words. Flower the plant, flour the flour. That’s what you were doing there, right?” Chloe’s eyes were wide, earnest, and shocking blue.

“Well, uh… sure,” said Beca, feeling a little guilty.

“Flower it is,” said Chloe happily. “It’s aca-awesome.”

It took Beca a second to catch up. “Aca… oh, right,” she said, “The singing thing.”

“Yep!” nodded Chloe enthusiastically. “Have you thought more about–-”

Knowing what was coming, Beca cut her off. “I’d better go, I have a class.”

“Oh. Totes! Have fun in class!”

Beca mumbled vaguely, already backing away. She really didn’t need to hear anything else about ‘synchronized lady dancing’ or anything related to it.

“I’ll send you updates about Flower!” Chloe called out after her, waving at her with the hand that wasn’t holding the bag of flour.

“Really, you don’t have to—”

“But I will!”

“Great,” muttered Beca under her breath. “Just great.”

“See you tomorrow to trade off again?”

“Yep,” Beca called back, and then quickly turned and started walking away faster.

She was pretty sure she could hear Chloe talking to the flour, cooing it even, as if it were a real baby. It was weird and kind of creepy, actually.

Beca took a deep breath, releasing the tension in her shoulders as she went to find Amy. She had a whole, fabulous flour-free day in front of her.

Flower was kind of a cute name though. Even if she had meant it sarcastically.

**********

That evening, as Beca was struggling through some philosophy homework, her phone chimed with a new text. Chloe had sent her a picture of the flour carefully tucked into a nest of blankets, with a caption that read, “All settled in for the evening!” Beca couldn’t help it; she smiled, just a little.

__________________________

Day 3

“Here you go!” Chloe said brightly as she passed Flower to Beca.

Beca took the weight grudgingly. At least it was her final full day with it, as Chloe would take it the next day and then turn it in to the professor the day after. Amy, who had joined her for this meeting, scowled down at the flour bag.

“Thanks,” said Beca, feeling altogether unenthusiastic. “How was it? She?” she corrected herself, ignoring the skeptical look Amy gave her.

“She was a total breeze,” replied Chloe, in a voice that sounded rather less than breezy.

Beca hesitated at her tone. “Are you sure?”

“Yep, not a problem,” said Chloe, not quite making eye contact. “I mean, it’s not like she was up crying all night or anything.”

“No, I suppose not.”

Chloe turned instead to Amy. “Anyway, hi again, Am— I mean, Fat Amy!”

“Hi there,” Amy said grandly. “I took a break from practicing mermaid dancing to keep Beca company.”

Beca tried not to look surprised; she knew for a fact Amy had been texting someone named Bumper for the previous hour and half, and had most certainly not been practicing ‘mermaid dancing,’ whatever that was.

“Right, the mermaid dancing” smiled Chloe, “That was really… something.”

“She’s speechless,” muttered Amy to Beca, clearly proud of herself. More loudly, she replied, “Yep, that was just the tip of the iceberg.” She elbowed Beca very unsubtly.

“Oh, yeah,” Beca said, trying to remember what Amy had asked her to say. “Amy’s really talented. You guys would be lucky to have her. Tasmania misses her and—and her teeth.”

Amy nodded, looking intently at Chloe. “I’m auditioning for the lead singer role and I’m happy to do solos.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to your audition!” replied Chloe, though Beca noticed she hadn’t mentioned anything about solos. Chloe paused, her attention turning instead to Beca. “And Beca, do you think you might want to audi—”

“We’d better head out,” Beca interjected, trying to lead Amy away. “Don’t want to be late to class.”

“What?” Amy asked, visibly confused. “We don’t have a cl—”

Beca continued more loudly, “Right, so, thanks for watching the flour—or um, Flower.”

Chloe shrugged with a small smile. “I mean, we are co-parenting.”

“Yes!” said Beca, only half listening, more focused on making sure Amy was leaving with her. “Totally. Right. Well, bye then,” she said, finally getting Amy to walk away with her.

“Bye, Beca and Amy,” Chloe said as they left, sounding like she was maybe holding back a laugh.

“What was that about?” Amy asked loudly, though thankfully only once they were a safe distance away from Chloe.

“What?” Beca decided playing dumb would be best.

“She gave you a super weird look,” Amy said.

Thrown off, Beca said, “Dude, what are you talking about”

“There was a look. A weird one.”

“There was no look.”

“Are you sure?” Amy squinted at her as they crossed the quad. “Why are you turning strange colors?”

“I’m not,” said Beca even as she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “Let’s just go.”

“Did anyone else get a little bit of a gay vibe?” Amy asked, still not particularly quietly.

Beca’s stomach did a strange thing. To cover for it, she said, “We have to go now.”

“To our class?” Amy asked sarcastically.

“We do have class.”

“In about 40 minutes.”

Beca huffed impatiently. “Yeah, well, gotta get good seats.”

“Since when do you care?”

“Since now, so let’s go.”

“You’re being weird. Weirder than usual even.”

“Look,” Beca said, losing her patience. “Can we just drop it? Please? And just go to class? I’m not really in the mood right now.”

Amy’s eyes narrowed. “Chloe might be in the mood right now.”

“Dude, what the fu–”

“Time to go to class!” Amy interrupted, moving surprisingly quickly in the direction of their class.

Thinking about how bad this entire experience has been for her blood pressure, Beca took a deep breath and then followed her friend.

**********

Class with a flour baby was a nightmare. People gave her strange looks, and even though it was literally just a bag of flour and not an actual baby, it was still almost too much for Beca to handle. Especially when she put it down on the desk and a poof of powder released from it, causing the girl next to Beca to sneeze violently. All in all, she was happy when the class ended and she could head back to her dorm with Amy, whose dorm was the next one over.

“That thing is a mood killer,” Amy complained as they moved toward Baker Hall.

“You’re not even the one carrying it,” grumbled Beca. “It’s freaking heavy.”

Except even as she said that, she realized it was feeling lighter than usual. She figured she must be getting used to carrying it. Maybe it was a good workout, at least.

“Mmm.” Amy sounded entirely unsympathetic. “Why won’t you audition for the Bellas?” she asked abruptly.

Beca groaned inwardly. “I don’t sing.”

“Everyone sings.”

“That’s wildly untrue.”

“Is it though?” Amy hedged. “You could at least audition. It might be fun to flaunt our sexy asses on stage. Even your tiny one,” she added, somewhat needlessly in Beca’s opinion.

“Thanks, Amy,” she deadpanned.

“I’m serious! It could be a good way to meet boys. Like those other singing ones. That one guy, Bumper, is hot.” Oh, so that’s who Bumper is. “And I think Jesse would like it,” Amy added after a beat.

Beca sighed, looking around to stall for time. They were still too far away from Baker Hall for her to realistically end the conversation there. She noticed absently that several people were staring at her and Amy, probably because she was hauling around a baking ingredient.

“I don’t really care about that right now,” she replied eventually.

“How do you not care about—”

“I’m just trying to be a producer,” Beca said, feeling like a broken record. “I want to just get out of here so I can move and figure it out.”

Amy shrugged. “I guess, but I just saw the way Chloe made you all—”

“Chloe didn’t make me anything, can we just—can we drop this, okay? I don’t want to audition,” Beca said firmly, trying to put an end to the conversation.

Amy huffed in annoyance, glancing around and looking back in the direction they came.

“Beca, I—” Amy started again.

Beca didn’t want to hear it. “I don’t really care what my dad says. I can do this myself, I don’t need to join—”

“Beca really, there’s something—”

“Dude, seriously, I hope you get a spot on the Barden Blueballs or whatever it’s called, but I’m not—”

“Your baby’s leaking,” Amy said.

“---joining them— what?” Beca stopped and spun around so abruptly she startled a student walking behind her.

There across the grass and sidewalk behind them lie a vibrantly white trail of flour, leading from their feet all the way back to the building they had had their class in. Nonplussed, Beca hoisted the bag of flour up to see the source; flour trickled steadily from a small hole near the bottom seam of the bag.

She hadn’t been getting used to the weight at all; the bag really had been getting lighter.

“Oh, fantastic,” groaned Beca in annoyance. “How did that happen?”

“There’s a hole,” smirked Amy, also examining the bag.

Beca let her eyes slide closed momentarily. “Yes, thank you, I meant— it doesn’t matter, we’d better go to the store and get another—”

“Hang on,” Amy said, sounding strange. “This isn’t the same flour.”

Eyes snapping back open, Beca stared hard at the deflated flour bag. “I—are you sure? It should be. Chloe—”

“Chloe replaced the bag. I’m positive,” said Amy with certainty.

“How—how do you know?”

“The stamp is different,” replied Amy with authority, pointing to the date stamped on the bag. “The date–-it’s not the one we got last.”

“I got the last one,” Beca corrected her automatically.

“Yes,” Amy said clearly and slowly, as if she thought Beca was a bit slow. “But remember? You were going off the original date? So Professor Flour Child wouldn’t know we replaced the bag?”

Beca nodded impatiently. “Sure, but this isn’t… you’re sure?” The more Beca examined the date, though, the more it looked strange and unfamiliar.

“Positive,” Amy said definitively.

“Wait, I can make sure,” Beca said, pulling her phone out of her back pocket. She unlocked it and went to her messages, pulling up the photo of Flower Chloe had sent her the night previously. She zoomed in on the date. “You’re right!” she gaped; the flour in the photo had a completely different date stamped on it.

“Yep,” Amy nodded, looking over her shoulder at the picture. “Ginger messed up.”

Surprise rippled through Beca. “So, wait, that means… she wrecked it too.”

“And didn’t hide the evidence properly,” scoffed Amy, sounding disdainful. “In Australia she’d be eaten alive.”

“How did you even notice that?” Beca asked, amazed.

“Uh, Australians are descended from criminals, remember?” Amy stated proudly. “We’re crafty like that. Let’s go get the right flour.”

Beca hesitated, suddenly feeling a little guilty. “Amy, do you have to be somewhere else? Like, all these trips to the store… do you have the time for all this?”

Amy grinned wickedly. “I mean, watching you destroy flour over and over again is entertaining. It’s also fun knowing Ginger isn’t quite so perfect.”

“Yeah, I…. yeah,” agreed Beca. It did make Chloe a little more likable. But only a little.

**********

Curled up in her dorm bed, the latest Flower—complete with correct date stamp—safely stored on her desk, Beca stared at her phone. At the short text thread between herself and Chloe.

Across the room, Kimmy Jin snored quietly, already deep asleep. Beca should be asleep too. It was getting late. Still, something nagged at her. Maybe she wanted to rub it in Chloe’s face a little, that she knew about the mistake. Maybe she wanted to gloat about it. But also, maybe it was more than that, something a little less identifiable.

Beca shifted in her bed uncomfortably. She typed out something on her phone, considered it, deleted it, and then typed again. Reread it. Twice.

Then, she took a breath and hit send.

I know what you did, the text read.

She really wasn’t expecting Chloe to reply quickly this late at night, but she should have known better. Barely two minutes later, Chloe responded.

Oooh, scandalous! Can I guess what I did?

Beca hesitated. What a strange message. Who even says that? Feeling a tad out of her depth, Beca typed back.

The flour. Flower. I know you replaced her.

Chloe’s response included no less than fifteen crying face emojis. Omg how did you know? I got the same one!

It made Beca’s lips twitch. Nope, not the same. The date on the bag you gave me was wrong.

Chloe’s replies were coming faster. Shoot! I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.

Smug satisfaction made Beca smile at her phone. I totally noticed.

Omg are we gonna fail?

Beca rolled to her side, getting more into the conversation. I already got a new one with the right date, she sent back.

Phew! responded Chloe, and then: I feel like a bad parent :(

You’re not. I destroyed her once too. sent back Beca, not feeling bad about the white lie. Chloe didn’t need to know about every incident.

No way! How did you do it?

Kimmy Jin continued to snore, marginally more loudly. My roommate hit her with a dart.

Several more emojis appeared on Beca’s phone, including the laughing face and another crying face. You’re kidding!!!!”

It made Beca’s mouth twitch into a reluctant smile. I wish I was, she typed, and then: how did you destroy her?

This time, Chloe took longer to reply. Beca had time to sip water from the bottle next to her bed before Chloe’s message came through.

It was so bad!! I was bringing her home from campus and put her temporarily on the roof of my car. But then I got distracted, forgot her, and left her on the roof. And then I drove away. But she didn’t fall off until I was already driving down the road.

Beca had to hold back a sudden laugh, even as a very tiny part of her wondered uneasily whether Shower Boy had been the cause of the distraction.

NO WAY she typed.

YES WAY, replied Chloe. I felt so bad.

Did anyone hit her?

This time, Chloe sent the facepalm emoji with her message. She kind of burst when she hit the road I think. But then yes, she got run over by the guy behind me.

This time, Beca couldn’t stop herself from emitting a small noise of laughter. She froze, but Kimmy Jin kept snoring. Relieved she hadn’t woken her roommate, Beca resumed typing.

We’re both bad parents!

Maybe :( said Chloe. Thanks for replacing her the right way.

Deciding Chloe didn’t need to know she only noticed the incorrect date after she let Flower leak all over campus, she replied, You’re welcome followed by I didn’t want us to fail the class.

Still. Thanks.

I got you. Beca replied quickly, and then immediately wished she could take it back. To compensate, she sent a quick and impersonal Goodnight.

Goodnight Beca

Beca stared at the two words, feeling strange inside. Maybe she had misjudged Chloe. Maybe.

She locked her phone and placed it on the shelf above her bed. Smiling slightly, she closed her eyes and was asleep almost instantly.

__________________________

Day 4

It was a little weird, but then again, so was this entire situation, and sometimes desperate times called for desperate measures.

At least, that’s what Beca told herself. And Amy.

“Sometimes I think I’d like to spend the night in a stranger’s house, and then I think… well, actually, I do that all the time,” admitted Amy.

They strolled along the sidewalk, Beca checking the house numbers against the address Chloe had sent her. The bus had only brought them within the vicinity, and Amy was less than enthused about having to walk a few blocks beyond the stop.

“I’m not spending the night, it’s just a few hours. And Chloe isn’t a stranger,” said Beca, then paused. “Well, she’s kind of a stranger. But not really.”

She again omitted the part where this stranger had seen her naked in the shower. For a prolonged amount of time.

Amy clicked her tongue. “Glad we cleared that up. Well, at least this will be good for some recon. Let me know if these twig bitches are as crazy as they look before I audition for their singing thing.”

“Mmmm.”

Beca checked her phone again, not really paying attention to Amy. Rather than just passing Flower off to Chloe for the day, they had agreed to spend the evening together to share custody, with the hope that it would keep her safer.

In the Bella House. Which wasn’t a big deal and didn’t mean anything, no matter what Amy implied. The house was just bigger than Beca’s dorm and made more sense.

“I’m surprised Chloe invited you over, since you hate the Bellas so much,” Amy commented.

Beca squinted against the sun. She thought she could see the house coming up just ahead of them, but she wasn’t sure yet.

“I don’t hate the Bellas,” she said. “I’m just… not into singing. I want to produce music, not sing it. And this was my idea.”

Amy blinked at her. “Really?”

“Yes,” Beca replied, a little defensively, “I just figured two heads are better than one. And besides, she got the wrong replacement last time.”

“Just watch out for that blonde one.”

Beca groaned and her step faltered, “You think she’ll be there?”

“She’s a Bella, and we’re going to the Bella House, right?” Amy’s tone implied she thought Beca was a few crayons short of a full box.

“I… yeah, I guess. She was uptight.”

“She’s definitely got a stick up her—”

“We’re here,” Beca interrupted, stopping abruptly as she matched the house number with the one Chloe had sent.

“Whoah,” breathed Amy/

“Yeah,” agreed Beca, staring up at the house.

It was absolutely huge, clearly an old sorority house that had been repurposed. She could see the outline where Greek letters had once marked the house. Tall hedges framed the small lot, and the grounds was only poorly kept, but the house still felt grand and regal. A few coats of paint, some yard work, and it would be gorgeous.

“It sure would be nice to live there instead of a crappy dorm,” Amy mused.

Beca had to admit she was right.

“If these are the perks we get,” Amy continued, “I’m in! Even if Ginger doesn’t have a soul.”

Beca laughed, but quickly stopped when the front door of the Bella House swung open.

“Beca! Fat Amy! Hi!” Chloe called out as she walked down the path to the sidewalk to meet them. “Nice to see you both.”

She wore a bright blue dress that perfectly matched her eyes. Beca had to admit it looked nice, a strong contrast against her hair.

“Hey Chloe,” Amy brightly, clearly hoping her comment about souls hadn’t been heard.

Beca waved, feeling awkward, then embarrassed as Chloe scanned her up and down. She was just starting to feel judged when Chloe’s confused eyes met hers.

“Where’s Flower?” Chloe asked, sounding mystified.

Beca gestured toward Amy. “Amy has—” but she stopped at the guilty look on Amy’s face.

“Shit,” Amy said quietly.

Beca wanted to scream. “Amy, where’s Flower?”

“Ummmm…mmmmmm… probably on the bus to the next stop,” Amy whispered the last few words, cringing in anticipation at Beca’s reaction.

“You left her on the bus?” Beca demanded, hearing her voice go shrill. The whole “two heads are better than one” thing only worked if there was a flour baby to care for in the first place.

Amy winced. “At least she’ll be well-traveled?”

Beca opened her mouth to respond, but Chloe cut her off, sounding surprisingly relaxed. “It’s okay, I have another one!”

“Y–you do?” Beca asked, surprised.

“Is it right this time?” Amy muttered, but Beca ignored her.

“Sure, come on in and I’ll grab it,” invited Chloe, ushering them into the house.

They stepped into the kitchen, which was clean and smelled somewhat lemony. Beca took in the shelf of cookbooks near the stove, along with the huge island and its many chairs. She supposed quite a few people must live in the house; it seemed like way too much space for just Chloe and the blonde.

Chloe opened a cabinet, reached in to grab a flour bag, and shut the door before Beca could see inside. She assumed it was disorganized, because for some reason, Chloe looked a little flustered when she handed the flour to Beca.

“Is this the right date?” Chloe asked, biting her lower lip.

Amy barely glanced at the stamp on the bag before nodding, but Beca pulled out her phone to again examine the picture of Flower to compare.

“That’s the right one, yeah,” she said, relieved Chloe had gotten it right. Beca had had enough of going to the grocery store for flour; the cashiers were going to start thinking she had some kind of grain fetish or something.

“Good!” Chloe said, actually bouncing a little with happiness. “I went to the store and got an extra one, just in case.”

“You didn’t trust me?” Beca asked, making her eyes wide and her voice sound hurt.

Chloe hesitated.

Beca smiled at her. “I’m messing with you, it’s a good idea to have a spare.”

“Totes,” said Chloe, relaxing back into a smile. “Fat Amy, are you sure you don’t want to spend the evening with us? We’re watching movies!”

Beca tried to hide her disgust at the word “movies.”

Amy shook her head, eyes flicking around the room. “No, I’m good, I have a lot of, um, math. To do. Homework.”

Beca glared at her. Amy wasn’t in a math class as far as she knew.

“Aww, I’m sorry to hear that,” Chloe said, looking genuinely crestfallen as she leaned against one of the kitchen chairs.

“Yeah, well, college,” Amy shrugged, moving toward the front door. “Requirements. Deadline. That stuff. Bye Beca!” she said cheerily, then practically threw herself through the door and out of the house.

Beca grimaced when the door slammed behind Amy. It left an awful quiet that made her uncomfortable, though Chloe seemed completely at ease. She was looking at Flower thoughtfully, humming something softly to herself. Her voice sounded good. Like, really good.

“So, uh,” Beca cleared her throat, shifting her weight. “What do you think we should do with…” she gestured to Flower.

Chloe smiled. “I think if we leave her on the counter she’ll be okay for the night.”

“Oh. Uh, okay,” said Beca, wondering why she even bothered to go to the Bella House if the counter would babysit. She set the flour down gingerly on the counter, making sure she wasn’t putting it down on a knife or something by accident.

“Your roommates won’t stab her?” Beca asked, alarmed by the thought of having to go to another grocery store.

“One roommate,” Chloe corrected. “And I don’t think so?”

“It’s just you and one person in this house?” Beca asked, surprised. “The blonde bit—girl?”

Chloe nodded, letting it slide. “Just me and Brie! Do you want anything to drink by the way?”

“Her name is Brie? And no, I’m good, thanks.”

“Okay,” Chloe said, standing up and leading Beca over into the main sitting room. “And, um, her name is actually Aubrey, you should probably call her Aubrey. I’m really the only person who calls her Brie.”

With that, Chloe settled into the couch and patted the seat beside her. Beca joined her, sinking into the clearly worn but comfortable cushion. Like the kitchen, the sitting room was clean and well-decorated, if a little large for two people.

“You guys are close, then?” Beca asked. She normally didn’t like small talk, but she was beginning to feel bad for Chloe, stuck in this enormous house with just the grumpy Aubrey to talk to.

“She’s my best friend,” Chloe nodded. “Has been for years in the Bellas!”

“That’s really… that’s nice, actually,” Beca said, surprised to find she meant it.

“Yeah, being in the group together has made us close. The Bellas is supposed to do that,” Chloe said, her eyes cast downwards.

Beca shifted on the cushion. “Supposed to?”

Chloe sighed sadly. “We had some… questionable leadership for a little bit and things were not so fun. But Aubrey and I are the only ones left and we want to turn it around!” she added, as if not wanting to dwell on the past for any longer.

“You will,” Beca replied automatically, because it seemed like the nice thing to say in this situation.

“You think so?” Chloe asked, her eyes wide and earnest.

“Yeah,” said Beca. “I mean, you’re all— like, you care about it so much.”

Which was a massive understatement; anyone could see how much Chloe radiated enthusiasm for the Bellas. Beca wondered if she had misjudged not only Chloe, but also the idea of the whole team at first.

“Thanks!” said Chloe, her smile bright as the sun. “I really hope so. Aubrey’s a little up in her own head but she’s really just— she wants the Bellas to do well.”

“What do you mean?”

“About what?”

“Like, the ‘do well’ part,” Beca reminded her. “What does that—”

“Oh! We have competitions and things,” said Chloe casually. “We compete. Against other teams. We’re the tits.”

“Like, other a cappella teams?” Beca asked, trying to keep a straight face.

“Totes!”

“That’s really… something,” said Beca, only just stopping herself from saying “lame.” Chloe looked so excited that Beca was asking about it, so she followed that up with, “What other teams do you compete against?”

“Um, the Sockapellas, the Treblemakers, the Footnotes, the—”

“The Treblemakers?” That one, unlike the Sockapellas, which was vaguely threatening for a team name, seemed familiar. “Isn’t that the other Barden one?”

“Yes, that’s the one with the boys. I think— well, I think Jesse is going to audition for them,” Chloe’s voice wavered with uncertainty.

A pang of surprise hit Beca’s stomach. “He is?”

“Yeah, he didn’t tell you?” Chloe’s eyes flicked away from Beca’s.

“No,” Beca heard the frost in her voice even as she tried to fend it off. “We haven’t really been…”

Chloe watched her expectantly, a little line appearing between her eyebrows.

Beca huffed, impatient with herself. “Well, he’s mostly been talking about you lately.”

“He—oh.” Chloe stopped, her cheeks turning a light pink.

Beca was again surprised; she didn’t think Chloe was the blushing type. There was a long, drawn out silence, the cause of which Beca wasn’t completely sure. She shifted in the couch again, picking at a fingernail.

In the quiet, she heard the sound of footsteps overhead; Aubrey must have been moving around.

“Right,” Beca said eventually. “Um, I might just—” she started to rise from the couch, but Chloe stopped her with a touch on the forearm.

“No, wait!” Chloe said, blushing again. “I mean, I can… is it… is he your boyfr—”

“Chloe—”

“I didn’t mean to—if he’s your boyfriend I’ll—”

“He is not my boyfriend!”

It came out much louder and harsher than she meant it. Chloe stared, eyes wide. Beca felt her own cheeks warm, and returned to her seat on the couch.

“I’m sorry,” breathed Chloe.

Beca dragged her fingers through her hair roughly. “No, I— I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry too.”

Around them, the house was quiet again. Beca was surprised Aubrey hadn’t come running at the sound of raised voices.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Beca said quietly. “He’s just… I don’t know if he’s even really a friend? I mean, I guess. He just… we just talk.”

“I’m not trying to get between you two.”

“I didn’t really think you were,” Beca shrugged. “And aren’t you with that other guy?”

Chloe looked blank. “What guy?”

“The guy, the shower guy?”

It took Chloe a second. “Oh!” she finally exclaimed, her expression clearing. “Him? No, we’re not together.”

“Oh. Okay,” said Beca slowly. She supposed that had been a big assumption. It was perfectly possible to have fun with a guy without being “with” him.

After another pause, Chloe began jerkily. “I actually, well, it’s—”

“You don’t have to—” Beca cut in.

“I only talked to Jesse to get to know you!” Chloe exclaimed in a rush.

“It’s – dude, what?” Beca was completely confused.

“I… well,” Chloe shrugged helplessly. “I was curious about you. After the Activities Fair, and then I heard you singing, and I just—I wanted to know more about you, and I saw you with Jesse a couple of times, so I started talking to him.”

Beca felt like ice water had been poured down her back. “Dude that’s— why didn’t you just, like, talk to me?”

“Would you have let me get a word in?”

“I…”

Chloe smiled knowingly.

“Got it,” Beca muttered sheepishly.

For the first time, she considered the idea that Chloe might not have invited her over just to watch an immobile sack of flour.

“So, um,” said Chloe to break the silence. “Exactly how many times have you killed our baby?”

Beca laughed, thrown off by the change in subject. “Only about… four? Or five? Amy helped me replace her each time and we got an identical bag.”

“Okay, yeah, pretty good,” nodded Chloe. “No wonder you caught that the date was wrong on mine.”

“Was it just that one time for you?”

“Uh huh,” Chloe said, twiddling her fingers.

“Well,” sighed Beca, purposely putting on the dramatics, “you’ve got me beat.”

“Guess so,” smiled Chloe. “So, do you want to watch a movie or something?”

Beca grimaced. “I’m not really a big movie person.”

Chloe didn’t press the issue or seem incredulous, which was a plus. “We could… I mean, if you want to stay for a little longer…”

With some surprise, Beca realized she really did want to stay to spend some more time with Chloe. Realistically, it didn’t take two people to watch Flower, but it was kind of nice to have someone to spend the evening with.

“I can stay for a bit,” she said.

“Yay!” Chloe actually clapped with joy. “In that case, I’ve got some Boone’s Farm?”

Beca wasn’t the type to turn down free wine. “Sure, that sounds good.”

“Aca-awesome!” said Chloe as she bounded from the couch. “It’s just in the kitchen, I can get it.”

Not wanting to just sit alone awkwardly in an unknown house, Beca followed her into the kitchen where Flower remained safe on the counter. Chloe opened a cabinet, which Beca glimpsed was filled with various bottles of alcohol.

“Can I help with the glasses?” Beca asked, opening a large cabinet that seemed like it might hold glassware.

“Not that one!” Chloe cried out, but it was too late.

Beca stared. Blinked. Kept staring. There were eight bags of flour in the cabinet. Beca looked closer, suspicious; the bags were all identical, down to the date stamp. The same date Flower had stamped on her.

Turning around, filled with equal parts triumph and amusement, Beca caught Chloe’s guilty expression.

“Well, well, well,” Beca said.

Chloe covered her face in embarrassment. “Okay,” she said through her hands. “Maybe I broke the flour a few times.”

“How many times exactly?”

Chloe mumbled something.

“What was that? Didn’t quite catch it.” Beca was absolutely delighted.

Chloe lowered her hands, looking sheepish. “Six. I broke it six times.”

“Oh my god,” Beca burst out, laughing. “We are actually the worst flour parents of all time.”

“Flour is hard to maintain!” Chloe protested, though a smile was growing on her face.

“Yeah, well, wine isn’t hard to maintain,” said Beca, finally locating glasses in another cabinet. “Cheers?”

“Cheers,” said Chloe happily, pouring them both healthy glasses of the wine.

Beca sipped it, still smiling to herself about the flour. Chloe was turning out to be pretty great after all.

**********

The wine was getting to Beca. Not too badly—she certainly wasn’t drunk—but enough to make her feel happy, warm, and kind of floaty.

She and Chloe sat on the couch in the sitting room, talking and sipping through the evening. Beca learned that Chloe’s parents were currently on a trip to Alaska, and her mom was a dentist while her dad was a music teacher. She said she got her love of music from both of her parents, though, who encouraged her to dance and sing from the time she was a toddler. Beca learned Chloe had an older brother who was considering graduate school, but he wasn’t sure what field it would be in. Chloe’s favorite movie was “Singing in the Rain” and she didn’t have a favorite song, because “How could I possibly choose just one?”

Beca had also opened up some, telling Chloe about her dad, her step-monster, and a little about her mom, too. She’d skirted around the divorce because she hadn’t wanted to bring the mood down, but with the kind way Chloe looked at her, she knew she could have talked about that more if she’d wanted to. When she told Chloe about her music production plans, Chloe lit up.

“That’s amazing, Beca!”

“Thanks,” Beca said, really pleased. “Not too many people react that way.”

“Well, they should!” insisted Chloe, moving closer to her on the couch. “It’s amazing.”

“You said that,” smiled Beca, also moving closer, mirroring Chloe. Their thighs were touching, Beca noticed absently, but she didn’t mind.

“Well, it is,” said Chloe definitively. “You know…”

“What?”

“The Bellas… I mean, they could really… we need someone like you,” Chloe said slowly, as if comforting a scared animal.

Beca took another sip of her nearly finished wine. “Someone like me?”

“Or, you know, you,” said Chloe. Her eyes flicked down to Beca’s mouth and back to her eyes.

“Hmm,” managed Beca, feeling warm. “I don’t know.”

“You said your dad wanted you to join a club,” Chloe reminded her gently. “Why not… this one?”

“I don’t sing,” replied Beca automatically, though that answer was starting to sound fake, even to her.

Chloe nodded, clearly trying to hide her disappointment.

“But…” started Beca, not quite able to believe she was considering this. “That doesn’t mean I… well, I could try it.”

Chloe brightened immediately. “You totes don’t have to, but I would love it if you did!”

“I’ll think about it,” said Beca. Something smelled like cookies, and she wondered if it was Chloe’s lotion.

“Please do,” whispered Chloe.

They were sitting very close.

“It might be kind of fun,” said Beca. She had been thinking about it, though she hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself. “Amy’s auditioning. Jesse’s auditioning. And you’re—I like spending time with you,” she said, catching herself before she said anything silly.

“I like spending time with you, too,” murmured Chloe. Her eyes flicked down again.

“We sounded great together,” agreed Beca. She remembered the showers, how their voices had harmonized and echoed off the walls.

Chloe was nice, Beca decided. She smelled like cookies, she was nice, she was fun to talk to.

And she had cute lips.

Beca wasn’t quite sure who leaned in first, but it didn’t really matter. Not when Chloe’s lips were on hers.

They were warm and soft, and they drew Beca in. The first brush of Chloe’s lips against hers sent heat flooding through Beca’s veins and down her spine, shorting out every nerve ending. She remembered to hang onto her wine glass, though she very much wanted to place her hands elsewhere.

Chloe’s lips parted and she sighed softly into Beca’s mouth. Her head tilted, and Beca pressed forward gently into the new angle. Chloe hummed at the change, the vibration of her voice reaching Beca’s lips and sending new, pleasure-filled jolts into her system.

She’d never felt anything quite like this.

A light touch appeared on Beca’s arm, traveled up, lightly skimmed the skin of her shoulder and neck, and stopped at the side of her jaw. Beca leaned into Chloe’s hand, changing the angle again, brushing their noses together.

Again, Chloe’s lips parted invitingly. Beca gently snared Chloe’s lower lip between her teeth, bit it lightly.

The sound that came from Chloe was more of a groan this time. It turned the heat racing through Beca into a searing fire, a need. She pressed forward, wanting to be closer, wanting them to mingle, until they were lying down. She wanted skin on skin, warmth and fire, nothing to consume her thoughts except for Chloe, Chloe Chloe.

“Chloe, do you want any cookies?”

Beca’s stomach flipped in shock.

Footsteps were moving toward them, fast.

She wrenched away as Chloe’s hand sprung back as if Beca’s face had shocked it. They launched themselves apart, each finding the far end of the sofa. They barely had time to make stunned eye contact when the blonde–-Aubrey—walked into the room, holding a huge plate of freshly baked and delicious-smelling chocolate chip cookies.

“I just made a fresh batch—oh.” Aubrey drew up short, just noticing Beca. “I, uh, didn’t realize we had company.”

“Um, yeah,” Chloe said, her voice unsteady. “Aubrey, this is Beca. Beca and I have a class project, and she’s the one from the Fair who—”

“I remember,” Aubrey said stiffly. Her face appeared frozen.

“Hi,” said Beca, hoping she sounded at least marginally better than Chloe. “Thanks for—um, welcoming me here.”

Aubrey nodded, lips terse. “A friend of Chloe’s is… well, would you like a cookie, Beca?”

“Sure,” said Beca after a brief hesitation.

Aubrey walked around the couch so she stood between them. She extended the plate, making prolonged eye contact with Chloe, who also took a cookie.

“They smell great, Brie,” she said.

“Fresh batch,” Aubrey repeated.

“Thanks again,” said Beca, at a loss for anything else. Her heart pounded in her ears.

Aubrey nodded stiffly, and, to Beca’s relief, turned to head out of the room. In the doorway, though, she paused and turned around.

“Chloe, why is the Boone’s Farm gone?”

“Oh, uh,” said Chloe, around a mouthful of cookie. “We were indulging.”

“I see,” said Aubrey. “Maybe a little too much? Your cheeks are pink.”

With that, she walked out of the room.

Beca and Chloe stared at each other.

“Do you think she saw?” Beca whispered over the sound of dishes being washed in the kitchen.

“I don’t think so,” said Chloe quietly. “She would have said something for sure.”

“Okay,” breathed Beca relieved. She took a bite of the cookie, which melted in her mouth immediately. “Wow, these are great.”

Chloe nodded, some chocolate at the edge of her mouth. “She’s a great baker.”

Beca’s head buzzed. The shock of kissing Chloe and the terror of almost being caught was getting to her. “Where does she find the time?” she asked. “She must be so busy.”

“She manages,” Chloe said, relaxing and moving a little closer to Beca. “We keep a lot of baking supplies around the—around… the kitchen…” she trailed off, her face going blank.

“Are you okay?” Beca asked, concerned.

“Aubrey!” Chloe called loudly, startling Beca. “Can you please come here?”

Footsteps sounded outside the room, and then Aubrey reappeared in the doorway. “Yes?”

Chloe glanced at Beca. “Um, Aubrey, where did you get the flour for the cookies?”

Beca’s stomach dropped.

“From the bag on the counter,” Aubrey said, a little irritably. “I figured you left it out because you wanted me to use that one first.”

Chloe looked at Beca in horror.

Beca looked at the bit of cookie left in her hand. “Is this…”

“Did we eat her?” whispered Chloe. “Did we eat Flower?”

“There’s flour in the cookies, yes,” said Aubrey impatiently. “Can I finish cleaning now?”

Fighting the sudden urge to laugh, Beca popped the rest of the cookie in her mouth. It really was delicious.

“Well,” she said to Chloe, “at least you have backups.”

__________________________

Day 5

They went up together to turn in Flower to Professor Lorenz. She picked up the flour, turned it around to examine every angle and checked the date stamp carefully before setting it on her desk. The professor watched them closely for a moment.

Beca held her breath. Beside her, Chloe was very still.

Professor Lorenz’s face split into a smile. “Well done ladies,” she said. “You are among the few to get As on this project.”

Beca exhaled a whoosh of relief.

“We did it!” exclaimed Chloe, briefly grasping Beca’s arm. Her touch left warm tingles on Beca’s skin.

“You certainly did,” said Professor Lorenz. “You simply would not believe how many people failed this simple task of keeping flour intact for a week.”

“Oh?” asked Beca weakly.

The professor shook her head in disdain. “Some groups really tried turning in what is clearly a replacement bag. Their bags have the wrong dates on them,” she said. “As if they thought I wouldn’t notice.”

“Imagine that,” mused Chloe, turning to Beca. Her eyes gleamed.

“Crazy,” agreed Beca.

“In any case,” said Professor Lorenz, “you two have passed with flying colors.”

Beca left the professor’s office feeling like she was floating. The last day had been a whirlwind. She’d left the Bella House shortly after they’d agreed to leave the replacement flour bags safely in a cabinet, where they couldn’t come to any more harm. Chloe had talked Aubrey into letting Beca take a few cookies back to her dorm for the evening. The next day, Chloe brought one of the replacements into class, and they had just been able to turn it in safely during the professor’s office hours.

A weight had been lifted from Beca. An approximately five-pound weight.

“Well done, partner,” Chloe said to her now.

“We killed it,” agreed Beca, relieved to have gotten a passing grade.

Chloe nodded solemnly. “Yes, several times.”

It made Beca laugh, which brought a smile to Chloe’s face. They left the campus building and walked onto the quad. Beca automatically scanned for Amy.

“So… about yesterday,” Chloe said quietly.

“Yeah?” Beca’s stomach flipped, though not unpleasantly. “We’re cool?”

Chloe nodded fervently. “I think so! I definitely don’t regret it. It was… really nice.”

Beca felt her lips lift into a smile. “I thought so too.”

“Then we’re cool,” Chloe smiled. Then, tentatively, she asked, “See you at auditions?”

Beca squinted into the distance, pretending to think about it. She was pretty sure she could see Amy patrolling yet another large group of frat boys.

“Probably,” Beca replied after a moment. “I’ll just have to be okay with being a nerd.”

Chloe’s smile could have lit up New York City. “It’s not so bad.”

“Someone told me the Bellas are the tits, so. Have to take that into consideration.”

Chloe smiled, if possibly, even more brightly. “Bye, Beca. See you soon.”

“See you soon,” promised Beca.

Then, as Chloe left her side, she turned, looking again for Amy.

She had a lot to tell her.

#pitch perfect #bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #my writing #pitch perfect fandom drive

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