#but she keeps mentioning offhandedly that maybe something bad is happening to her/us bc god is smiting us for doing gay shit

[atticfish]

praying for some peace and quiet in this gosh darn house

[beca-mitchell]

Jingle (1/1)

Summary: Beca’s new job has some festive perks—aka—Beca gets a second job at the mall as a Christmas elf and Chloe really likes the outfit that comes with it. Rated M/E.

Word count: 3,550

For @asimplefavors​ bc nobody loves Anna Kendrick more than u...and this is like the best of both worlds...and for always being there to listen to my hcs while also being absolutely demonic with ur own hcs.

Yes, this was inspired by Noelle.

Read below or on AO3.

—

It starts off as an off-hand comment from Fat Amy. Something about Beca being perfectly suited to be a Christmas elf—they had been watching a Hallmark movie or something similar and incredibly cheesy—except for her temperament, which could use “some work”.

Beca shoves Amy with her foot, nearly pushing her bodily off the bed, but the damage is done. Chloe’s eyes brighten, and she looks entirely too amused and entirely too thrilled at the thought. She turns teasing eyes onto Beca before launching into a detailed list of all the ways Beca would make a perfect elf and since she is Chloe Beale, it ends up being pretty hard for Beca to stay too upset. Instead, she's being attentive and all...like a good girlfriend.

What is upsetting is how unfairly pretty Chloe looks, reclining casually in their bed—their bed!—in a reindeer onesie and penguin slippers. Ridiculous.

— — — — —

Beca doesn't hate Christmas.

Chloe just happens to love Christmas a lot. Enough for both of them.

No, Beca does not get the job on purpose. Not one bit.

— — — — —

Dating Chloe is a fairly new thing, but it is possibly the most natural part of Beca’s life at the moment. Still, it’s a thing nonetheless even if Beca isn’t necessarily complaining. Dating your college friend (previously acapella co-captain) while also living in the same tiny apartment was, to Beca, a sure-fire way to mess things completely. Nevermind that they were struggling young adults in one of the most unforgiving cities in the world. Nevermind that they were already sharing a bed. Nevermind that Beca had to come to the realization slowly over the past year and a half living with Chloe, even before they started dating, that her crush on Chloe was more than just a fleeting passion. It was more than just a recent development.

She thought she was fucked the first time she woke with Chloe’s hand draped casually over her midsection and her breath warm against Beca’s cheek.

But she never stood a chance, in retrospect. Not even back in school, when she had slowly been falling in love with Chloe over a series of mash-ups and trophies.

It is thus totally and completely understandable that only two and a half weeks later—after that fateful movie night—Beca somehow finds herself tiredly stomping up to their walk-up, disgruntled and shaking clumps snow out of her bright green elf hat. The horrendously bright red ruffles on the skirt of her dress are even more out of place considering she spent most of the subway ride back into Brooklyn tugging her dress out of the hands of an extremely excited child who was wondering if Santa was riding the subway as well. The job itself was taken on a whim because somebody at work had offhandedly mentioned that their niece had taken on a part-time job at the mall and that it paid ridiculously well for such an easy task.

Beca wants to go back in time and tell her past self to never believe something so ridiculous ever again. She has the utmost respect for people who manage to keep a genuine smile on her face while working—Beca finds herself retreating behind the scenes at least once every ten minutes to simply breathe and use her stress ball. It is not a fun job and not one Beca would pick again, but the extra money is nice and she really is trying to keep an open mind.

(She would just rather not be leered at by middle-aged fathers bringing their kids to sit on Santa's lap. And she's also pretty sure Santa is drunk ninety percent of the time.)

Beca is additionally prickly due to the fact that Chloe has been away for the past week and a half at a conference. Beca is proud of her and glad that Chloe is already getting a head-start in pursuing her veterinary dreams with amazing opportunities on her plate, but she’s only human and misses her girlfriend. She misses Chloe’s arms around her and the gentle kiss Chloe had begun to leave against her ear each morning. She misses grabbing two take-out cups of coffee from their favourite shop just down the street and returning to receive a kiss from Chloe in gratitude.

The perks of being in a fully-fledged adult relationship and all.

(She misses the sex. More than she’d care to admit to anybody considering her only available confidante is Amy and that isn’t something Beca would care to explore.)

There is a silver lining, however. It’s that Beca gets at least one more day of reprieve before Chloe returns and has the time of her life seeing Beca in all her ridiculous get-ups ( plural )—all of which Beca absolutely plans on burning.

Finally, in front of their door, Beca fumbles with the key for a moment before she gleefully manages to get the door open and nearly slams it open in excitement. She’s glad to have avoided most of the snowstorm. She’s excited to curl up in her bed and finally place the order for Chloe’s Christmas present, which she had been putting off because they’ve all been a little strapped for cash, but this second job has been immensely helpful in that regard.

“Hello,” Chloe’s voice sounds unexpectedly from behind the rack of clothes. Beca startles and yelps, dropping her keys and jacket on the floor. She catches sight of Chloe’s feet and the laundry bag by her feet before Chloe is walking back around the rack. Beca’s eyes dart around nervously, realizing she has nowhere to hide.

She strongly considers walking back out the door.

“I was wondering where you we—” Chloe’s words die in her throat the moment she catches sight of Beca standing awkwardly by their kitchen table, clearly having no words for what she sees. “Beca?” she questions, eyebrow rising on her forehead.

“I…” Beca swallows, licking her lips nervously. “I thought you were coming back tomorrow.”

Chloe’s eyes are flicking up and down Beca’s torso, like she doesn’t quite know what to do with all the visual information being sent her way. “I asked to come back a day early because of the snowstorm,” Chloe explains, though her words are stilted and her eyes are still flicking around distractedly. “Are you…”

Curiosity rises in Beca’s body when she realizes Chloe is more than the usual amount of distracted. She tilts her head, waiting for her girlfriend to say more, but Chloe’s mouth quickly clamps shut and the most peculiar blush rises up her cheeks.

Interesting.

Beca definitely recognizes the flushed state of Chloe’s cheeks and neck and she’s certain that it has nothing to do with the slight chill from their unreliable heating unit.

Suddenly, Beca isn’t so exhausted and embarrassment seeps further and further from her mind. Maybe it hadn’t been such a bad idea to not change back into her jeans and t-shirt. In her haste to leave work, she had simply grabbed everything and ducked out, hell-bent on avoiding conversational friendliness. “Hi,” she tries again, stepping closer to Chloe. A grin stretches across Beca's lips when she catches bright blue eyes flicking down to her leggings.

Chloe clears her throat. “Hello,” she mumbles, shy and extremely formal.

"Chlo?” Beca questions, using a very specific tone reserved for Chloe when they’re in bed (or about to get into bed). She loves having a momentary leg up on Chloe Beale. “How do I look?"

"Um.” Chloe’s eyes seem to start right at the top of Beca’s head with the obnoxious felt hat, before drifting down to the loose, messy waves of Beca’s hair, then the tightly-fitted bodice of Beca’s dress to the ridiculous flare of ruffles—Chloe’s eyes darkening as they go—before her eyes finally shoot back up to lock onto Beca’s face. “You look nice,” she says politely, though her fingers twitch by her side and she takes two steps closer to Beca. The air already begins to shift between them. Beca struggles to maintain a hold on her libido and her sanity.

"You know, I thought it was kind of stupid, but I think it’s not that bad now,” Beca says nonchalantly, even if her heart begins to race at Chloe’s proximity. She reaches up to brush some hair away from her neck, almost laughing and breaking character when she sees how Chloe’s eyes immediately zero in on the expanse of skin available due to the slightly lower (definitely inappropriate) cut to the dress. “I might make a good elf.” Beca tugs her lower lip between her teeth before shooting a grin at Chloe’s gobsmacked expression.

God, it was hilarious how much Chloe loved Christmas. Or it would be if Chloe's expression weren't morphing into one that more closely resembled lust.

Beca swallows. Damnit.

"Good is one word to use,” Chloe murmurs, clearly regaining confidence. “Small might be another.”

Beca scowls. “Try again. Without using small.”

“Did I lie?” Chloe asks, clearly pleased at having regained some footing. She closes the distance and wraps an arm around Beca’s waist before reaching up to brush some unruly strands of hair away from Beca’s face.

"Kiss me,” Beca demands quickly, hoping to pull Chloe back into her orbit and maintain a hold on the situation.

“I thought Santa’s Little Helpers were supposed to be nice,” Chloe wonders aloud, pressing closer still. The ruffles of Beca’s dress lie trapped between their bodies uncomfortably, but they do nothing to alleviate the heat rising through Beca’s chest.

“I can be nice,” Beca mumbles, eyes flicking to Chloe’s lips not at all desperately.

Chloe smirks—God, Beca hates her—and gently presses the softest, barely-there kiss to Beca’s lower lip. “I missed you,” she murmurs against Beca’s mouth. "I love you," she continues, pressing another firmer kiss. “My little sexy elf,” Chloe teases.

Beca snorts but pulls Chloe in for a firmer, more intense kiss. “Love you too, nerd,” she mumbles quickly in reply before refocusing on her task. She tangles her hands into Chloe’s hair, keeping their lips together. Slowly, she parts her mouth, eager to feel Chloe’s tongue against her own. Chloe hums contentedly before parting her lips obligingly. Both hands now grip Beca’s waist firmly, pulling Beca flush against her body.

Beca hates the clothes between them. She quickly moves her hands under Chloe’s shirt, scraping her nails up her girlfriend’s back while Chloe’s tongue does absolutely sinful things to her mouth. Moaning, she fumbles with the clasp of Chloe’s bra, nearly crowing in delight when she gets it unclasped. Immediately Beca’s hands move to Chloe’s chest and she begins to grope at her girlfriend’s chest, palming delightfully hard nipples. Chloe grunts and gently pushes at Beca’s chest, their lips parting for a moment.

Through heavily-lidded eyes, Beca stares reproachfully at Chloe for ending that kiss far too quickly, but she supposes Chloe is giving her something because her hands have yet to be removed from under Chloe’s shirt. Still, Beca is decidedly displeased by the lack of Chloe’s lips on her own.

"Chloe, why—” Beca begins to whine.

"How long do we have before Amy comes back?” Chloe asks quickly. Her tongue darts out to wet her lower lip. “I haven’t seen her yet.” Her lips part to expel a quick breath when Beca’s fingers twitch against her breasts.

"Oh." Beca grins, leaning up to press a small kiss against Chloe’s chin before trailing kisses to her jaw. “Didn’t you hear? She has a new fling. She won’t be back for at least the entire weekend.”

"That’s good,” Chloe says before lifting Beca and depositing her on their bed. Beca yelps when her hat is knocked askew and her dress bunches up uncomfortably beneath her. Any complaint dies in her throat when Chloe pulls off her shirt and tosses it, along with her bra, away, leaving her in plain blue jeans. Beca swallows, feeling old insecurities float through her, just for a moment. Sometimes she forgets how effortlessly beautiful Chloe is—how completely out of her depth she feels at times—but Chloe often reminds her how beautiful Beca is and how much she wants her at any given moment. Chloe’s attraction to her is not limited to solely physical attraction, but rather it is an attraction on every level.

Beca finds herself believing it, especially now considering Chloe looks like she wants to devour her completely, Christmas outfit and all.

"God, I want you,” Chloe mumbles, crawling up Beca’s body all lithe-like and unnecessarily hot. Beca is already gasping for air when Chloe’s tongue pushes into her mouth again and her hand is pushing up the thick gauzy material of Beca’s dress. “You’re so hot,” Chloe grumbles, hand coming around Beca’s hip to grab her ass and press their hips together deliciously. She begins to leave open-mouthed kisses against Beca’s jaw and neck before sucking and nipping at a spot just under Beca’s ear.

Tilting her head back, Beca moans quietly, lifting her hips up desperately to create some friction. The small bells on her dress jingle with each shift, but she really could care less, especially not when Chloe finally shifts her thigh and presses up hard against Beca’s center. Separated by both the thick material of Chloe’s jeans and Beca’s festive leggings, the friction isn’t as direct as she would like.

“Chlo,” she begs. “More.”

Ignoring her apparently, Chloe cups her jaw and begins kissing her so thoroughly and deeply that Beca’s hands slacken in Chloe’s hair and she can do little more than allow Chloe to have her way with her. Chloe whimpers against her mouth, hot and breathless before she sits back up between Beca’s spread legs. Biting her lip, Chloe tugs at the waistband of the skirt, letting the elastic snap back against Beca’s midsection. Beca pants, flinching at the contact, but more aroused than ever. Every shift against the bed reminds her of how wet she is, how uncomfortable she is every time her clit licks against the soaked fabric of her underwear.

“I love you in this,” Chloe murmurs reverently. Her fingers trail over the tops of Beca’s breasts, now threatening to spill from the dress. “But. Um. We should, um,” Chloe’s voice is thick and hoarse. “Get this off.”

“Get me off,” Beca demands, unable to help herself.

Chloe flicks the elastic of Beca’s dress again, raising an eyebrow in warning. Still, her hands begin to move again and she finally guides Beca to sit up as well, both of their hands suddenly eager to move as Beca helps her shed the ridiculous dress. It jingles loudly and obnoxiously as it floats to the ground as if saluting Beca once more.

Fucking nuisance.

Chloe laughs at Beca’s disgruntled expression when the dress finally slides off her body and allows Beca to climb into her lap once she discards her stockings and nearly trips over herself in her haste to press her body against Chloe’s again. Chloe begins kissing a trail up her chest and around her collarbone before she leans Beca back a little and nips at the sensitive flesh around her nipples. Beca whimpers once Chloe’s teeth finally graze pebbled flesh. She grabs the back of Chloe’s head to keep her there as long as possible. Chloe’s hands slide under the waistband of her underwear, cupping her ass firmly and steadying Beca’s hips as she begins a quick rocking motion.

Back and forth, back and forth—Beca realizes how close she is to coming as her underwear sticks to her drenched cunt with each shift of her hips.

Too close.

It’s like Chloe has a sixth sense. She pauses her ministrations, lifting her head so she can smile at Beca, lust and desire shining in her eyes. Her fingers slide around so she can rake her nails up Beca’s thighs, the sensation causing a new wave of wetness between her legs. Beca wants to push Chloe back and get herself off on the button of her jeans.

She’s that close.

"Chloe," she breathes. She needs Chloe in her—her tongue or her fingers, she isn’t picky—or she might combust. “Now isn’t the time, I swear. Fuck me. Fuck me,” she enunciates. “I don't have patience today.”

"Oh,” Chloe teases, though any humour is immediately outweighed by how fucking hot Chloe sounds like that. “I’d love to meet patient Beca one day. I’m sure she’d be a good little elf for me.”

Beca hates how quickly her mind immediately files that away under things I will definitely get off to in the future.

"I’ll be good,” Beca promises weakly. “Please, Chlo.”

Chloe’s warmth lifts off her body. She pulls at Beca’s underwear, tugging it off successfully before she settles comfortably between Beca’s legs and immediately begins sucking at Beca’s aching clit.

First, Beca thinks that she is immensely grateful for having discarded the ruffled skirts because she has an uninhibited view of Chloe’s face and the top of her head as she continues licking and sucking at the wet, swollen flesh between her legs.

Second, holy fuck.

Beca swallows, unable to even whine or whimper because of how tight her throat feels. Her lungs strain for air as she gasps breathlessly. Chloe’s fingers dig into her hips, holding her down while she continues using her tongue and lips and teeth in absolutely sinful ways between Beca’s legs. Chloe leaves nothing to the imagination, her tongue slicing up and down through wet folds.

With her head rocking back and forth on the pillow, Beca soon becomes aware of the faintest sound—a lone jingle, muffled by the fabric of her pillow. To her horror, she realizes she is still wearing the obnoxious hat on her head and the bell is caught between her hair and pillow. She reaches up to rip it off her head, but Chloe’s lips immediately tighten around her clit and Beca immediately grabs on to Chloe’s head instead, moaning loudly at the sensation.

“Leave it,” Chloe mumbles.

At first, Beca has no idea what Chloe is referring to, but she then realizes Chloe is referring to the damned hat.

She would laugh if Chloe’s fingers weren’t pressing inside her cunt with practiced ease and immediately setting a punishing pace. Chloe rises slightly so her face hovers over Beca’s. Her lips are parted with the effort of each thrust and her cheeks are flushed. Beca swallows as she stares back, her own jaw unhinged without a care in the world. There is pure lust and want in Chloe’s eyes, like she can’t believe Beca is hers. The desperation of Chloe laying Beca down not too long ago in an act of wanton passion simply because she could and simply because she wanted Beca and missed Beca—

“Fuck, C-Chloe—” She groans, head falling back. “Fuck me, oh God—”

Chloe watches Beca's flushed face with no small measure of smugness dancing across her features—particularly in the glistening on her lips—as she does so. “Good, baby?”

“So good,” Beca whimpers. “Harder, baby, fuck—”

A sharp cry escapes Beca’s mouth as Chloe’s fingers curl and her thrusts become more precise and distinct. From her head, she hears the jingles from the hat, but otherwise, Beca can’t hear much else other than her own panting and Chloe’s heavy breathing with the effort she is putting into fucking Beca into oblivion.

She clenches tight around Chloe’s fingers, her thighs locking up around Chloe’s hips. White explodes behind her eyelids and she quickly presses herself close to Chloe if only to keep her fingers trapped inside her for a moment while her orgasm washes over her in waves.

When Beca’s body finally unclenches, Chloe is peppering kisses along her neck and cheek. Slowly, Chloe’s fingers leave the warmth between Beca’s legs, sliding out of her slowly as to not startle her. With her eyes fixated on Beca’s dazed expression, she licks at her fingers, getting every last bit of Beca off her fingers. “You were so good baby,” Chloe praises before leaning in to kiss Beca thoroughly. Beca hums, enjoying the feeling of Chloe’s lips folding around hers, kissing back with the ease of people who have done so a thousand times before.

Faintly, Beca hears jingling again. Pulling back, she frowns and forces her eyes open. She soon realizes that Chloe is playing with the little bell at the top of her hat, a playful smile creeping across her lips. “Chloe,” she whines. She reaches up to pull the hat off her head, and tosses it aside, hoping it lands somewhere near the garbage can.

“It was cute,” Chloe protests.

Beca frowns. She pushes at Chloe’s shoulder so she rolls onto her back before getting to work at removing Chloe’s jeans which have been on for far too long. “You’re cute. And I’ve missed you. Now shut up so I can go down on you.”

“I don’t think Santa would approve of that language, Bec.”

.

.

.

.

Later, when Beca is rubbing her slightly sore jaw, thinking she sufficiently exhausted Chloe to the point where Chloe couldn’t do much more than cuddle Beca and keep her warm, she realizes belatedly that her first mistake was to underestimate her girlfriend.

“So...is that candy cane strap-on out of the question?”

“Chloe.”

fin.