Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She’ll never forget the first time she saw his name in the credits of a movie. It was some romantic comedy that she’d already forgotten the name of, but she couldn’t shake the indescribable feeling she had when she saw his name flash on the screen.

Score Composed By:

Jesse Swanson

She hadn’t known it was him when the movie started and she found herself wanting to watch the whole thing over again just to listen to that tinkering behind the action. Her boyfriend at the time stood up and looked down at her in confusion because she wasn’t moving. She was stock still in her seat, eyes staring at the space on the screen where his name had appeared. She came out of it relatively quickly and stood up with a jolt, going on about how she must have spaced out for a moment or something like that. Her boyfriend didn’t ask further – probably indicative of one of the reasons they break up three months later – and they leave, Beca wondering how many other movies there were out there with Jesse’s name in the credits.

That night she sat in bed with her laptop propped on her lap as she went through Jesse’s Wikipedia page.  There seemed to be a whole body of work that she missed. Adding the Wiki page to her bookmarks, she thought to herself that she had some catching up to do.

She ended up Netflixing most of the movies and began to be swept up more by the swelling music accompanying the action than any storyline that followed. She didn’t know if it was her reading too much into the scores – but she swore she could see Jesse in them. Bits and pieces were so familiar that she found herself smiling for no real reason other than that they reminded her of him.

She thought of calling him up several times as she made her way through his film work, but she chickened out every time. Her and Jesse had history, and she didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. Besides, was it really necessary that he know that she had watched his films? It had been years since they dated. He probably wouldn’t even care. The idea crossed her mind a few more times, but then she finished the list and life predictably got in the way. She got a promotion at work. Her and the boyfriend went through a rough patch before finally ending a relationship that probably should have ended much sooner than it had. She forgot all about Jesse Swanson until she found a wedding invitation in the mail.

You are cordially invited to the wedding of:

Brad Weston

and

Patricia Brightman

It seemed Fat Amy was getting married, and she thought enough of Beca still to invite her. Beca was surprised mainly for the reason that her and Amy hadn’t talked for at least two years.  After her move to LA, she'd lost touch with most of the people from New York.  If anyone were to unexpectedly send a save-the-date her way, though, it would be Fat Amy, and Beca sent back a response saying she would attend without hesitation. It would be nice to see Fat Amy. Who knew, maybe more Barden Bellas would be there, too.

It is at her table at Fat Amy’s wedding reception that Beca recalls that night at the movie theaters where she had been rendered immobile by the mere presence of his name on the screen. She wraps her hand around her whisky and coke and gives it a stir with a flick of her wrist, the ice clinking festively against the glass.

“Beca?”

She glances over to her side and grins when she sees Chloe with a tall red-head man beside her.

“Oh my God, it is you!” Chloe says loudly, looking up at the man. “I told you it was her!”

Beca laughs, standing up and stepping into Chloe’s waiting hug.

“It’s great to see you, Chloe. How are you?”

“Beyond upset that Fat Amy made it to the altar before me,” Chloe says, flashing her left hand that prominently featured a detailed engagement band. “She’s totally taken half my ideas. That’s what I get for talking about my wedding plans with her!”

“You and Fat Amy are still close, then?” Beca asks, feeling a sudden wash of guilt at becoming so disconnected while Chloe nods.

“Yeah, we all are for the most part,” Chloe says. She senses Beca’s discomfort and adds, “But, you know, it was easy since we’re still all in New York. I’m sure if we were in L.A. like you…”

“I’m not the best with keeping in touch,” Beca says. “Never one of my strong suits.”

“Well, even more reason for us to catch up!” Chloe gushes, reaching forward and gently touching her arm. “I bet you’re wondering who this tall hunk of ginger next to me is.”

Beca grins and glances at the guy. “Let me guess, you’re the fiancée?”

“You don’t miss a beat,” he returns. “I’m Roger.”

“Really nice to meet you,” Beca says. “I’m glad that Chloe was able to find another of her kind.”

“So, are you here with anyone?” Chloe asks.

“Nope, it’s just me,” Beca says.

“Is there anyone at home?” Chloe asks leadingly.

“My boyfriend and I broke up last month,” Beca answers. “Haven’t really been on the dating scene much after that.”

“That’s a shame. Have you been out much? Because I know after a breakup it’s difficult to really put yourself out there but…”

It may have been years since Beca had last seen Chloe but she has no problem remembering her dogged inquisitions when it comes to relationships. Knowing that this will be a long and painful conversation if she does not extricate herself soon, she clears her throat and interrupts with, “You know, I see someone that I should really say hi to. So…”

“Oh, you should totally go,” Chloe says. “We didn’t mean to monopolize you over here. Go mingle!”

Beca nods with a tight smile, “Yeah, okay. I’ll talk to you guys later. Roger, it was really nice meeting you.”

“You too, Beca.”

She excuses herself from the two of them and heads straight to the bar at the side of the dance floor. She had nearly drained her previous drink and she couldn’t think of any reason not to have a second. As she waits in the small line someone steps behind her and her shoulders tense when something alarmingly akin to a bird noise rings out behind her.

“No way,” she murmurs softly.

“Becaaww.”

She turns around and meets the amused face of none other than Jesse Swanson. His eyes are bright and he says, “Fat Amy said you’d be here.”

“Seriously?” Beca says. “Am I the only one who didn’t keep in touch?”

“I’d assume you kept in touch enough if you’re here,” Jesse says.

She chooses not to correct him.

“You look nice,” he says. “Are you here with anyone?”

She gives him a look and says, “No.”

“Good, then I won’t have to ask for someone’s permission to take all of your slow dances.”

She smiles slightly and says, “I see you haven’t changed.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he returns. They’re silent for a moment as the line moves forward and he casually says, “So, I’ve followed your music.”

She glances over at him in surprise. “You have?”

He nods. “Yeah, your sound has really grown up. It’s great.”

“Thanks,” she says uncomfortably. She considers telling him that she’s kept herself similarly abreast of his career, but instead asks, “So, how’s composing? Win an Oscar yet?”

He laughs. “No, not yet. Haven’t ruled it out entirely, though.”

“So, you’re working?” she asks cautiously, not wanting to betray the fact that she knows exactly how much he’s been working. For some reason she’d rather him think that she has no clue – no interest in his life since they left Barden and each other.

“Pretty steady for about four years now,” Jesse says. “It took a while to take off, but I have no complaints. I love what I do."

She’s staring at him and doesn’t notice that the line has moved until he points behind her and says, “The bar’s open.”

She moves forward, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. The room suddenly feels cold and goosebumps rise on her arms. But then he steps next to her, the sleeve of his jacket brushing against her arm, and she feels heat rise in her chest.

“I’ll have a scotch neat,” Jesse says. He glances down at Beca and asks, “What are you going to have?”

“Whiskey and coke.”

He glances back at the bartender and says, “A whiskey and coke, too.”

The bartender makes the drinks and Jesse hands him over the money. Beca tries to pay him back for her part but he brushes it off with a sweep of his hand.

"So, what do you think about L.A.?” he asks.  "That's where you're living now, right?"

“It’s nice,” she says with a shrug. “The people aren’t half bad and there are some pretty good sushi restaurants.”

“Have you tried Nokamura?” he asks immediately. “It’s on 5th and Grove. Best sushi I’ve ever had.”

She stares at him and asks, “You live in L.A.?  I thought you were in Chicago.”

He moved not long after their breakup, and she'd learned from his Wikipedia page that he served for several years as the musical director for a small orchestra in Chicago.  As far as she knew, he was still in Chicago.

"I wanted to get back to what I really loved - composing music.  No better place to do it than L.A."

“Good point,” she says blankly, still reeling a bit from the news. Even as she made her way through his entire career of films, it had never occurred to her that he was back in L.A.  She wonders how long he'd known they were both in the same city, and if it ever occurred to him to call her.  Obviously not.

“You know, I saw you down there once,” he says.

“You did?”

Jesse nods. “It was at Whole Foods. You were picking out apples – with your usual diligence, might I add. You rejected a good seven or eight apples.”

“I hate ones with soft spots,” she says automatically.

“Yeah, I remember,” he says with a slight grin. 

“Anyway,” she says. “Why didn’t you say hi?”

For the first time that night Jesse looks uncomfortable and he says, “You, uh, had someone with you.”

“I…” she trails off when she realizes who he’s talking about.

“He seemed nice. Had good hair. Impressive biceps, too.”

“You sound smitten,” she returns sarcastically. “You know, we’re broken up now. I could give you his number.”

Jesse laughs. “No, I think I’m good.”

She takes a large gulp of her drink, wincing slightly as the alcohol burns her throat. Jesse notices the expression and says, “Hurts so good, right?”

“You got it,” she says, raising her drink in a mini salute.

Someone begins to hit their spoon against their champagne flute and a clinking sound fills the room.

“I think it’s time for the speeches,” Jesse says. “Can I get you for a dance afterwards?”

Beca nods. “Yeah, sure.”

They walk over to their respective tables and Beca settles in her seat for the toasts.

Not two seconds after the toasts end Jesse is in front of her with his hand extended.

“I’m here to collect on that dance.”

“You got here fast. Worried I’d run away?”

“More worried that someone else would edge in first.”

“Alright,” she says, rising from her chair. “But if you step on me I’m going right back to this chair.”

“I promise you, I will be on my best dancing behavior.”

They walk out to the dance floor and he slips his arm around her waist. Her arms go naturally around his neck and as they sway to the beat she feels as if no time has passed between now and when they had been in college – both hopelessly in love but one too stubborn to admit it. She wonders then how things might have been different if she had been more open. That’s the real reason they didn’t work in the end. He gave her everything and she came to a point where she couldn’t give him any more. She had reached her limit and even he couldn’t pull her past it. She thinks of the last man that had shared her bed, and wonders if anything was different now. She liked to think she had grown over the years, but had she really? She thinks of her isolated life in L.A. and wonders if she’d reverted. Was she back to the girl who chose the solitary life over one with people simply because it was easier?

She suddenly feels like her dress is too tight. There’s a weight on her chest and she can’t take in a full breath. Being back with all these Barden people was messing with her head – turning everything the wrong way. She was happy back in L.A. She had a life and the career she always wanted, and yet she came here and found herself questioning everything.

“I…I need some air,” she says, pulling away from him suddenly. She doesn’t look back to see if he’s following as she pushes her way out to the back exit of the venue, but she isn’t surprised to see him come out the door after her.

“Beca, what’s going on?”

“I…I think I’m having a panic attack,” she says, leaning forward and bracing her hands on her thighs as she struggles to get a full breath in.

“Um, okay,” Jesse says worriedly. “Do you need water? You should probably sit. Come on, let’s go inside-”

“No, I don’t want to go inside,” she says immediately, shaking her head. “I can’t. I…”

“Alright, that’s fine,” he says placatingly. “We’ll just sit out here. How does that sound?”

Beca nods. “That’s fine.”

“Alright.”

Jesse helps her onto the ground and then sits next to her. She shivers in the cold and he takes off his suit jacket and drapes it around her shoulders. She doesn’t speak for a good two or three minutes, staring at a trash can across the street.

“Beca-”

“Do you think I’m different?” she asks abruptly.

“Are you different?”

She nods. “Yeah, from college. Have I changed?”

“Based off just tonight?”

She thinks about it for a minute and lets out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah, I guess that’s a stupid question for you. Not really something you can tell from a few hours with someone.”

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“I just think about the Bellas,” she begins slowly. “I think about how close I got with all of them. And then I think about you. I think about how we were happy, but then that wasn’t enough. Makes me wonder if anything will ever be enough for me.”

“We were young, Beca,” Jesse says after a moment. “Both of us made mistakes.”

She shakes her head. “But things haven’t changed. I haven’t, at least. I still close myself off. Push people away.”

“Beca-”

“Earlier this evening when I asked you if you were working – I knew the answer,” Beca says, turning to look at him. “I’ve seen every movie. I’ve practically memorized your Wikipedia page. But I didn’t want to tell you because for some reason I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want to admit that I cared. How stupid is that?”

“Pretty stupid,” Jesse admitted. “But, look, even if you still are pushing people away, the fact that you recognize that and want to change is important.” The look on her face clearly says that she doesn’t believe him and he presses, “The first step is admitting you have a problem, right?”

“You sound like a bad infomercial.”

“No one’s perfect, Beca. We all need a little work.”

“How about you? What do you need work on?”

Jesse pauses for a moment and then answers, “I probably could floss more.”

She laughs slightly and he says, “There it is. I knew I could make you smile.”

Beca takes a deep breath before standing up and extending her hand down toward him. He looks up at her and asks, “Are you better now?”

She nods. “Yeah, my moment of introspection has passed.”

He takes her hand and she pulls him up off the ground. When he’s upright he wipes off the seat of his pants and says, “We probably should head back inside.”

Beca nods. “Yeah.”

When they walk back inside Fat Amy is upon them almost immediately, her eyes scrutinizing their appearance.

“Dammit, no mussed clothes or hair,” Fat Amy says. “I lost the bet, didn’t I?”

“What are you talking about?” Beca asks in confusion.

“Did you guys make out?”

“No,” Jesse says while Beca loudly goes, “Dude, no!”

“Yeah,” Fat Amy says, frowning. “That’s what I thought.” She glances back at Chloe who is watching them closely and yells, “There is no touch down! No touch down!”

Jesse glances at Beca and asks, “Want to get a drink?”

“Much more than a few seconds ago.”

“Yes, go get liquored up,” Fat Amy says, ushering them toward the bar. “Let loose a bit. Get a little funny in the head.”

As they make their way to the bar Beca notes, “Man, she really wants to win that bet.”

The reception progresses in the usual manner. Fat Amy gets drunk on champagne and can barely make her way to the limousine to take her and her new husband to the hotel for the start of their honeymoon. The party breaks up around one in the morning, and Beca finds that most of them are staying in the same hotel. A bunch of them share a cab back to the hotel, Jesse squeezing in against Chloe’s matching ginger. It’s a loud cab ride and she can see the driver is more than happy to drop them off in front of their hotel. Jesse pays for the entire ride and when she tries to slip him a ten he shakes his head. Chloe goes on about how they should all meet in her room and continue the night, but Roger shakes his head and she figures he wants his fiancée to himself.

So, Beca goes up to her room and sits on her bed for a while before opening up the minibar and pulling out a bottle of wine from the back. She slips her shoes off and walks out of her room, locking the door behind her. While she stood behind Jesse in line in the lobby she had heard his room number, and moves quietly through the hall to his room. She hesitates before she knocks, wondering if he’s asleep. She figures it hasn’t been too long since they all separated, though, and if he doesn’t answer after a few knocks then she’ll have her answer and she’ll drink in her room alone. He answers after the second knock, already changed into boxers and a band t-shirt. She feels silly then for still being in her dress.

He glances at the bottle of wine and says, “Is that for both of us or just you?”

“If you’re going to bed…”

“I’m not,” he says, stepping aside. “Come in.”

She walks in, glancing around at the room. It’s identical to hers save for the framed painting above the bed. He holds out his hand for the bottle and she hands it over, watching him search for cups. He grabs two of the ones meant for coffee and then unscrews the wine, pouring them each a cup. She takes it from him and sips gingerly, wincing at the acidic bite at her tongue.

“God this is awful,” she says, coughing. “This better not have cost me too much.”

“It’s minibar wine,” Jesse says. “It’s supposed to be awful and overpriced.”

She smiles slightly. “I guess.”

“So, you really watched all my movies?”

She takes another sip before nodding. “Yeah. I mean, I didn’t memorize them or anything.”

“Admit it, you caught yourself humming one of the themes.”

She grins, shaking her head. “No. I won’t admit that. I don’t think your ego needs any more stroking.”

He laughs. “Fine, but I’m going to take that as a yes.”

They spend the rest of the night talking about nothing in particular. It’s just voices and words, but both find it comforting. There had always been a certain sense of calm between them, and they settle into it again as the hours pass. She doesn’t know when they fall asleep, but she wakes up against him, their bodies stretched out on the bed. His arm is wrapped loosely around her, his face turned toward her. She glances up at his face and studies the familiar features. They are different now – more defined and angled. He was a dorky cute back at Barden, but the years had worked to make him handsome.

“Stop staring at me,” he murmurs, eyes drifting open.

“I’m-I’m not.”

“Yeah, you were.”

She sits up, tugging at the hem of her dress which had ridden up while they slept. The wine they had hours earlier throbbed in her head and she closes her eyes for a moment before standing up.

“You could stay here,” Jesse offers, sitting up.

“I think I’m just going to go back to my room,” she says, looking for her shoes. She checks the side of the bed twice before she remembers she didn’t come with them.

“When’s your plane ride back?” he asks.

“Eleven.”

He nods. “Mine’s at eight.”

“Eight,” she says, glancing at her watchless wrist. “Well, then you better be getting to bed.”

He smiles slightly. “That was the idea before you showed up with a bottle of wine.”

She hides her smile with a turn of her head and then says, “I’ll see you later, Jesse.”

She turns to leave and he asks, “Your phone number still the same?”

She nods, still facing the door. “Yeah.”

“Alright then.”

She glances back and murmurs, “Alright.”

Chapter Text

She thinks she sees him everywhere. First it's at the grocery store. She's picking out lettuce and she swears that he's over by the tomato stand. She recognizes the back of his head, and the way that he handles that tomato is just right, and then he turns around and it's not him. Same thing happens when she's driving. It happens again when she's picking up some things from Target and then when she's at the dry cleaner. He's everywhere, and yet her phone isn't ringing.

It's been three weeks since the wedding.

Three weeks since she saw him.

Three weeks since he said he'd call.

She tries not to think about it and to get on with her days and nights as if nothing is wrong. In reality, nothing is wrong. She doesn't even want him to call that bad, anyway. It's just the principal of the matter. He said he would call. And he claims to be a nice guy, and nice guys call when they're supposed to. So that's really all she's annoyed with – him not living up to that good guy persona that he wore like a shield.

Her and Fat Amy have started talking more frequently, though, and when they talk Amy fills Beca in on married life. It's mostly talk about sex – Amy's favorite topic.

"It's non-stop," she tells Beca over the phone. Beca called her because she had to scrub her stove – and it was just about her least favorite thing after cleaning toilets and any Adam Sandler movie. Talking to Amy distracts her from the fact that she's wearing bright yellow gloves and inhaling toxic fumes.

"Non-stop, huh?"

"Oh yeah," Amy says. "The man's a machine. I thought it was supposed to become routine with marriage, but he's become a whole different man. It's like I married the sexual Energizer Bunny."

"So, you're basically living the dream?" Beca says, going at a particular difficult patch of grime at the edge of the stovetop.

Amy does her guttural laugh and coos, "You have no idea. So, you and that hunk of man get physical yet?"

Beca scrubs the edge of the stove vigorously, suds slushing over the edge.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Beca says.

"Do I need to spell it out for you?" Amy says loudly. "J-e-s-s-e Swanson, Beca."

"I haven't heard from him."

"What? That can't be right."

"Well, that's what's happening," Beca says tersely. "Or, what isn't happening. Whatever. It's stupid to try to rekindle anything anyway. I mean, what are we playing at? What am I playing at?"

"It's not stupid to rekindle things," Amy presses. "You know, he only came to my wedding because I told him that you would be there."

Beca's efforts at the stove still and she straightens abruptly. "He what?"

"He wasn't going to come," Amy says. "Said he had a work thing or something. It was complete bol shit and we both knew it. Anyway, I hinted that you were going to be there and lo and behold, his work schedule cleared."

"You don't know that that isn't what actually happened," Beca stammers. "Work schedules can…clear."

"Don't be dense, Becs," Fat Amy says dismissively. "He wasn't at that wedding for my hot ass. He was there for yours."

Beca leans against the stove, raking her fingers through her hair.

"I don't like being this person," Beca finally says. "I don't…I don't wait for people. I don't stare at my phone and wonder why someone isn't calling. I've never been this person."

"It can be a good thing to open yourself up to people," Amy says. "You know, I used to be closed off from people."

Beca snorts. "No, I didn't know that."

"But then I met Brad and it was different."

"That is so corny that I want to barf," Beca says.

"Screw you," Amy says, laughing. "But none of us are that girl until we meet someone who makes us her."

"Isn't that a bad thing?"

"Depends on the guy," Amy says. Beca can almost picture her standing in front of her and executing a familiar shrug. "But, if you want my opinion, Jesse's one of the good ones. He always has been."
"Yeah," Beca grunts. She sighs, turning back to the oven. "That's what I thought, too."

He calls the very next day and she can't help but wonder if Amy had put him up to it. To his credit, he sounds embarrassed that he waited so long. He goes on for a few minutes that he's been really busy and work was insane. It ends in him taking a long pause and then admitting, "Yeah, I was just scared to call."

They meet for coffee at a café down in The Grove and they celeb watch as they make their way through uneventful conversation. After all the years, they don't really know where to begin. It had been so easy at the wedding, but that was a singular moment, and this is life, where you can't blame it all on cheap mini bar wine, and both of them get spooked.

"The weather's not bad today," Beca says slowly. "Nice and, uh, breezy."

"Yeah," Jesse says nodding. "The breeze is pretty nice. It's one of the benefits of living in L.A. You get lots of good breezes."

She nods blankly. "That you do."

He's looking at something over her shoulder and she wonders why this is suddenly so hard. She had thought he felt something back in that hotel room, but now they're sitting talking about breezes.

"Hey, it's Al Pacino," Jesse says, mouth pulling into a toothy grin. "Michael Corleone in the flesh."

"Jesse-"

"You should turn around," he tells her. "This is a once in a lifetime chance, Beca."
"It's fine, I sat next to him at the movie theater once," Beca says dismissively. "He's a really loud popcorn eater."

"Huh, that's surprising. I would have thought-"

"Jesse, please stop talking," Beca says, voice heavy.

"Uh, okay," he says uncertainly. "I'll stop talking."

"No, I don't want you to stop talking," Beca says, shaking her head. "I just want you to stop talking about breezes and Al Pacino."

"Okay, no more breezes or Al Pacino."

She takes a deep breath, gearing herself up for whatever awkwardness she is about to bring down on herself, and says, "I know you went to Amy's wedding because of me."

He shifts a bit in his seat and says, "Wow, so we're going straight there?"

"Do you want to go somewhere else?" she asks pointedly.

"No, I mean, I thought we'd have a little bit of a warm-up first."

"What the hell do you think the twenty minute chat about weather was?"

"Fair enough."

"So, is it true?" Beca asks.

"Is what true?"

"Did you go to Amy's wedding because of me?"

He hesitates for a moment and then tells her, "Yeah, I did."

She doesn't say anything, trying to stave off the ridiculous grin that she can feel pulling at her mouth. He takes in her silence and says, "You know, you could have some reaction. I'd take anything, really. Acceptance. Outrage. Flinging your coffee at me across the table."

"This coffee is too good to throw at you," Beca answers immediately. She smiles slightly and she can see him relax. "So, what happens now?"

"I don't know," Jesse says with a shrug. "What do you want to happen?"

Beca considers it for a moment and says, "I wouldn't hate a muffin."

He smirks. "A muffin? That's what you want next?"

"Yeah," she says, smiling slightly. "You know, maybe sex afterwards, too. But we can talk about that after the muffin."

He laughs, nodding as he leans forward. "Alright then. Let me get you that muffin."

She grins. "Alright."

They don't sleep together that night. That won't come for a while, but they do watch a movie in her apartment, him holding off on his usual running commentary for the movie's entirety. She enjoys it while she can, knowing full well that it is only because this is the start of…whatever it is…and he's on his best behavior. It's nice to be with him again. She doesn't exactly know what all of it means, but as they sit side by side on her couch she thinks to herself that she had missed this.

The night ends with a chaste kiss on the cheek. Against her skin he murmurs, "I'll call you tomorrow."

He leaves and she spends the rest of the night watching awful reality shows on Bravo, trying to keep herself from texting him. She goes to bed and when she wakes up there's a text from him at exactly 12:01.

I promised to call you tomorrow.

And as it is technically tomorrow, I don't want to get yelled at for not calling.

She knows she's grinning like one of those idiotic girls from those chick-flicks Chloe used to make her watch at Barden, but she can't help herself. Leaning back against the backboard of her bed, she murmurs to herself, "Get it together, weirdo."

Chapter Text

They become inseparable. They've become one of those pairs that she'd always made fun of before. He has a tooth brush at her place. She has a drawer at his. They go grocery shopping together and go see a movie every Sunday after lunch. For all intents and purposes they are a couple, but she's wary to adopt any label. Things had changed at Barden when they had forced themselves into that girlfriend-boyfriend mold. She didn't want that to happen again.

So, they don't talk about what they are. They never have that conversation that everyone claims is so important. She doesn't think they need it. She's happy. He's happy. Why ruin things by putting unnecessary pressure or to label something that didn't need labeling in the first place?

She thinks everything is fine until they go to a cocktail party that one of her friends from the recording studio is hosting, and she introduces Jesse as her friend. He seems icier toward her after that, and she tells herself that she's imagining things until he openly ignores her when addressed directly.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she demands, pulling him to the side.

"Nothing, buddy," he says, voice laced with sarcasm.

"Buddy?" she repeats, giving him a look.

"That's what I am to you, right? I'm your buddy?"

She tries to rack her brain for what he could possibly be upset about, and she remembers how she had introduced him earlier.

"You're not seriously upset about that, are you?"

"No Beca," he says slowly. "That's fine. I'm just your buddy. We have sex practically every night, but we're just buddies."

"Look, I thought it'd be better if we didn't try to label things," she presses. "It's cleaner."

"Yeah, and also a lot easier to run away from when things get tough," he shoots back. "Nothing's changed has it?"

"Jesse-"

"You know what, you call this whatever you want. I'm heading back to my place."

"What? Jesse, come on."

"I have an early morning anyway," he says dismissively. "I'll just talk to you later."

"Jesse-"

He leaves before she can say anything else and she wonders just how she had managed to fuck everything up.

She goes to his place despite his whole early-morning-spiel. She doesn't like that they're fighting, and she thinks that maybe – just maybe – he had been right about her just trying to make things easier. It was easier if they didn't have a label. Just as the outside world didn't hang expectations on them then, neither did they.

She knocks on his door four times before he answers. He's wide awake, still dressed in his clothes from earlier, and she wonders where had had stood as he stared at the door and contemplated not opening it.

"I snuck some desserts out for you," she says, pulling a napkin stuffed with cookies from her purse. "Figure it'd be a sort of peace offering."

"I'm really not in the mood to talk," he says flatly.

"Good, uh, because I'm here to do most of the talking," she says, placing the napkin of cookies on the dresser near the door. "Surprise, huh?"

"I guess."

He's just standing there and she finds herself getting more and more nervous with each passing breath. She clears her throat and asks, "Can we, uh, sit down maybe? I feel a little…"

He nods, sitting down on the edge of the couch. She sits next to him, almost a full seat cushion away to give him space.

"I don't really know what to say," she starts off, unconsciously wringing her hands in her lap. "I'm not good at this. I just thought…I didn't realize that what I did earlier would hurt you. And I don't want to hurt you. Believe it or not, I never want to hurt you. Even when I do."

"Like when you introduce me as your friend?" he asks sarcastically.

"You're more than that," she says. "I thought you knew that."

"I do," he says. "I just don't understand why you don't want other people to."

"That's not-"

"Does this mean something to you?" he asks. "Because sometimes I can't tell. Sometimes I think I'm just convenient for you to have around."

"No," she says immediately, scooting closer. "You do mean something to me. You do."

"Show me then," he says. "Show me that this means something to you. Because it means something to me, too. And if we're not on the same page…"

She stares down at her hands, trying to find some way to show him what he's asking of her. He means more than he knows, and words will never be enough to show that, because she's never been good with them. So, she does what she knows, and she turns toward him, leaning in as she brings her mouth to his. He pulls away immediately and says, "Dammit Beca. Stop."

She pulls away, fighting back tears that she hates because she's a grown woman and grown women don't cry.

"What do you want from me?"

"To have a real conversation," he says. "Not one that devolves into us bare-backing it on the couch, for Christ's sake."

"Okay," she says, nodding. "Let's talk."

"What's the real reason you didn't tell them we were dating?"

She wants to look away, feeling the same rush of nerves she always felt when faced with a direct question like this, but she forces herself to hold his gaze.

"I don't want what happened to us at Barden to happen again here."

"What do you mean?"

"We were happy, and then people started putting all these pressures and expectations on us. We tried to live up to what everyone else thought we should be, and that's when things got bad. For me, at least, that's when we stopped being us."

"You think that'll happen now?"

"Why would it not? It's the same thing."

"No, it's not," he says, shaking his head. "We're completely different people now, Beca. I mean, think about it, we were so young. We barely had our own identities down, not to mention our identity as a couple."

"I just can't help thinking that you only get so many do-overs," Beca says. "If this is our last chance, I don't want to screw it up repeating the same mistakes we made before."

He reaches forward and takes her hands in his.

"I promise you, we will not repeat those mistakes," he says. "And if we do, then I'll make sure we get at least one more do-over."

She wants to cry again then, because he's looking at her with that tender look that was always reserved for her, and she can't believe how lucky she was to have found him not once, but twice.

"I'm so sorry that I hurt you earlier," she murmurs. "I was being stupid. I was-"

"You were afraid," he interrupts, leaning forward and bringing his hand to the curve of her jaw. "And yeah, you were a little stupid, too. But I'm a little stupid most of the time, so it evens out."

She laughs a bit, laying her hand over his wrist. He leans in and gently brushes his lips against hers. As she returns the kiss she thinks to herself that she is kissing her boyfriend, and maybe labels aren't that bad after all.