Beca & Chloe
(Open, Unmoderated)
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Summary
The bar is the kind Beca Mitchell usually avoids.
It’s too loud. Too crowded. Too many people pretending not to watch each other.
But tonight Stacie dragged her out after a long week in the studio, and Beca is three drinks deep, which means the bass shaking the walls feels less like noise and more like something she can sink into. The lights are low and red, bleeding over the room like spilled wine. Bodies move in slow, loose rhythm around the floor, conversations swallowed by music.
Stacie vanished twenty minutes ago with someone wearing glitter eyeliner. So Beca is alone at the bar, elbow propped against the sticky wood, turning a glass of something amber between her fingers.
She’s not looking for anything.
That’s what she tells herself, at least.
Still, when someone slides onto the stool beside her, she notices. The girl smells faintly like citrus and something floral. Her hair catches the dim bar lights—strawberry blonde, maybe. Though in the darkness it almost reads red.
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The bass started in Beca’s chest before she even stepped inside. It thumped through the metal door, through the concrete walls, through the soles of her boots. A steady, relentless beat that made the sidewalk vibrate faintly beneath her feet.
Beca Mitchell stared at the glowing pink sign above the entrance and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Tell me again why we’re here,” she said.
Next to her, Jesse grinned like he’d been waiting all week for this moment.
“Because,” he said, pushing the door open, “you’ve been living in that studio like a raccoon and I refuse to watch it happen.”
Beca sighed. It had been a brutal week. Four days of mixing vocals for an artist who insisted on recording every line twenty times, three all-nighters tweaking bass levels, and a deadline that felt like it was breathing down her neck.
She was exhausted. But she was not in the mood for…whatever this was.
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This was a terrible idea. Beca knew it in her bones. But Aubrey had insisted that the Bellas do this “exercise” as part of their training retreat for Worlds, and Chloe had agreed before Beca could mount an objection.
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The flickering lines cut across becas vision, jagged and sharp, twisted at the edges. Every noise she hears feels distant, like it’s coming from underwater, while those jagged lines keep crawling across her eyes. And that’s when Beca recognises it. It’s a migraine attack slowly creeping in. It’s going to be a bad one. But she wants to just get over with the rehearsal.
OR
Beca feels a migraine attack creeping in mid rehearsal. But Chloe doesn’t know Beca has migraines. She tries to hide it, until she physically can’t anymore. -
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Summary
Beca Mitchell had a rule about Chloe Beale. It was a simple rule.
Don’t think about it.
Which, unfortunately, meant Beca thought about it constantly. Not in a weird way. Not in a dramatic, pining, rom-com sort of way. Just…occasionally. Sometimes. When Chloe was standing too close during rehearsal. Or when she laughed and tipped her head back. Or when she did that thing where she absentmindedly hooked her arm through Beca’s when they walked across campus.
Totally normal friend thoughts. Normal, extremely straight friend thoughts.
Beca had accepted this system months ago.
in short: beca saves chloe from a horrible date. what comes next is confusing
prompt from an anonymous tumblrer: "Bechloe--Beca rescues Chloe from a bad date. set at barden"