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You would kill someone for some cake right now. Well, that’s probably an exaggeration. There would probably only be slight maiming. You glance over at the clock on the DVR and is flashes 3:46 A.M. in that obnoxious neon green light. It’s probably not proper guest behavior to go digging around in Aubrey and Chloe’s fridge, but you figure that you’ve made their couch your bed enough times that it doesn’t really matter.
Rolling off the couch and onto the floor seems preferable to sitting up and getting up like a normal person and that’s when your realize you’re probably still more than a little drunk. The Bella’s had thrown an end of the summer party at some club and when things were winding down you had called Chloe to come pick you up. That was only a few hours ago so it made sense that you were still feeling the effects of the night. You finally pull yourself off the floor and start walking (read: stumbling) to the kitchen with as much grace you can muster (read: absolutely none).
A sense of well earned triumph fills you when you yank the refrigerator door open and begin rummaging through it’s contents. Your sense of triumph quickly fades when your search for cake comes up empty and you slide to the floor as the fridge gently swings closed. You can feel yourself quickly turning into drunk emotional af Beca as the prospect of no cake causes tears to prick at the corners of your eyes when the kitchen light turns on. Blinking quickly, to adjust to the light and dispel the tears, you turn and your eyes widen when you see Aubrey, looking entirely too adorable, standing at the entrance to the kitchen, blurry eyed with a pair of boy shorts and a slightly too small t-shirt as pajamas. You squint a little.
“Is that my t-shirt?” You find yourself asking. Aubrey looks down and you swear she blushes before she answers.
“I guess you must of left it here.” That makes sense, you do practically live here sometimes, but that doesn’t really explain why Aubrey is wearing it. As if sensing you’re going to push the matter further Aubrey asks, “What are you doing? It’s almost four in the morning.”
“I wanted cake.”
“Cake?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, well we don’t have any cake.”
You sniffle, “I know.” Drunk emotional af Beca is making another appearance and you’re not nearly sober enough to care.
“Are you crying?”
You wipe you eyes, “No.” Aubrey nods and takes a deep breath while rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. You scrunch your eyebrows together when Aubrey walks over to the fridge and starts taking out ingredients. Satisfied with what she’s gotten from the fridge she turns to the cabinets before looking down at you.
“Do you want chocolate or vanilla cake?”
“Chocolate?” Aubrey nods and adds a small box of coco powder to her collection of ingredients and cookware. “Bree?”
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing?” Your question causes her to stop carefully measuring the flour and look down to where you’re still sprawled on the floor.
“Making you cake. I know you’re still pretty drunk, but I really thought that much was obvious Becs.” You want to ask why, but you’re still kinda tired and really looking forward to this cake and your relationship with Aubrey has taken a weird turn over the summer so you think it’s best if you just let it happen. By weird you mean that you’re basically in love with her and somewhere along the line she’s decided that she didn’t hate your guts, so ya’know, progress.
“You’re, like,” You hiccup and continue, “really nice, Bree. The best person ever.”
Aubrey laughs as she continues mixing ingredients while you watch and try not to fall asleep. You’ve slept on the kitchen floor before and it’s not as comfortable as it seems when you’re tired and drunk.
“Bree?”
“Hmm?”
“Why are you making me cake?”
“Because you want cake and I have to be ready in two hours anyway to head to the gym before work.” You’re honestly still a confused, because two hour is a lot of time to sleep and not be baking, and you don’t quite get why Aubrey would want to give up sleep just because you want cake, but, you figure, it’s too late now because she’s sliding the dish into the oven. “It’ll be ready in 35 minutes.”
You must have dozed off because when you look up Aubrey is drying her hands and a clean pile of dishes is sitting on the counter. You pat the floor next to you and Aubrey looks down and raises an eyebrow. “Come sit with me.”
You kind of marvel at how graceful Aubrey is even when she’s doing something as seemingly not graceful as lounging on the kitchen floor and you think that it’s got to be against some sort of rule that someone can look so good in a too small t-shirt and underwear, but you’ve learned that Aubrey defies a lot of expectations and rules. Before you can really think about it you’ve curled yourself around Aubrey and tucked your head into her chest. You can get excessively affectionate after drinking, plus Aubrey looks really comfortable. You ignore the way Aubrey tenses at the contact because after a few seconds she’s relaxed and playing with you hair.
“Why aren’t you dating anyone?” You don’t think you really want to know the answer because much of you sanity is saved by the fact that Bree has remained single after you realized your feelings, but the question comes out anyway.
“Uh, well, I don’t really think the person I’m interested in feels the same way and I haven’t found anyone worth dating that is interested.”
“How could someone not be interested in you? You’re probably the greatest person ever. You’re smart and driven and fucking gorgeous and actually pretty funny and anyone would be beyond lucky to date you.” In the midst of your word vomit you felt compelled to move from your position of being cuddled into Aubrey’s side to essentially straddling her, as if sitting in her lap with your hands on her shoulders will somehow make her believe what you’re saying. Aubrey’s eyes are wide and before you know it her hands are back in your hair and she’s pulling you down for a kiss. The kiss is rushed and messy and wonderful and it takes you a second to respond, but it’s still probably the best kiss you've ever had. You think, with more than a little naivety, that this moment is so close to perfect that nothing could ruin it.
You were wrong. As if some sort of switch is flipped Aubrey is suddenly pulling away and freaking out.
“Oh my god Beca I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to kiss you and, oh my god, you’re drunk. What the hell was I even thinking?” You want to reassure Aubrey that everything’s okay, that you wanted this too, so badly, but your head is still really fuzzy from the kiss and the alcohol so you stare and do nothing while Aubrey freaks out, upending you from her lap and all but running to her bedroom.
Fuck. This was not how you'd imagined your night would go. You’d honestly just wanted cake.
It takes you a couple of minutes to collect yourself before you can pull yourself from the kitchen floor and migrate to the bathroom. You splash cold water on your face in an effort to sober up and tie your hair up with a spare hair tie while you consider your options. There’s the obvious one of trying to get Aubrey to talk to you. To explain that despite being drunk, you want to be with her. But what if Aubrey doesn’t want to be with you? It’s a possibility that is all too probable. That’s probably why she ran off so suddenly.The kiss was simply a reaction to the fact that you were simultaneously straddling her and showering her with compliments. Plus she’s probably sleep deprived. Decision made you exit the bathroom and head for Chloe’s bedroom. Chloe doesn’t stir until you crawl into bed.
“Becs?” Her eyes are barely open and her voice in rough with sleep.
“The couch was lumpy,” You lie, “Go back to sleep.” Chloe nods slightly and collapses back into her pillow. It’s easy to ignore what happened once you’ve settled into bed and are quickly on your way to sleep.
//
Aubrey avoids you after the kiss. The only proof you have that it even happened was the tuber-ware filled with chocolate cake that you found in the fridge the next morning with your name on it. You want to make Aubrey talk to you, but you don’t really know what you'd say. Obviously Aubrey regrets the kiss, she wouldn't put so much effort into avoiding you if she didn’t, and, short of begging, you don’t know how you can change her mind.
You finally decide to talk to Chloe about what happened a week later. You know you’re too suck in your head and if anyone can help you get out of it, it’s Chloe.
“Beca hey!” Chloe has already bounced off the couch and is moving toward you for a hug when you enter her apartment. “What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy you’re here, but you usually call first.”
“Yeah, sorry Chlo, I just really need to talk to you.” You run a hand through your hair and your eyes widen when you finally look past Chloe and see Aubrey sitting on the couch clutching a glass of wine. “Bree?”
Aubrey raises an eyebrow at the disbelief in your voice, “I do actually live here Beca.”
You roll your eyes and scoff, “I haven’t noticed, seeing as you’ve been avoiding me, I figured you must have moved.” Your anger takes you by surprise, and based on the look on Aubrey’s face it takes her by surprise too, but how dare she just sit on the couch and pretend that nothing happened.
She looks down and takes a sip of her wine, “I haven’t been avoiding you.”
You’re quick to respond, “Bullshit.”
“Beca, maybe now isn’t really the best time,” Chloe cuts in.
“Well I don’t really know when a better time will come around Chlo, given that I haven’t even seen Aubrey once in the last week and I’m getting the feeling that that wouldn't change anytime soon if she had anything to do with it.” Chloe bits her lip and turns to Aubrey, who’s steadily staring into her glass of wine.
“Do you mind giving us a few minutes Chloe?” Aubrey asks. Chloe quickly moves and grabs her jacket before heading to the door.
“Text me when you’re done, I’ll be at Stacie’s.”
The door shuts loudly behind you and you and Aubrey are left staring at each other in silence. You’re anger has faded pretty quickly and you’re not really sure where to start. Aubrey takes a deep breath before finishing off her glass. You feel more than a little awkward standing by the front door so you shrug off your jacket and head over to sit on the other side of the couch.
“So I like you,” Aubrey begins, “Which is why I kissed you and I freaked out because you were drunk and I was afraid I had ruined everything. I avoided you because it was easier and safer than having my fears confirmed. We’re friends and that’s really important to me so if we can just forget everything that happened that would be great.”
You’re surprised by Aubrey’s directness, but you know rationally you shouldn’t be, when Aubrey wants something she goes for it 100%, and almost inexplicably happy. Aubrey wants you. You. As in Beca Mitchell. When you finally look up from your lap you see that Aubrey is staring at you, hands fisted tightly in her shirt, and you can see in her eyes that she’s anxious. You want to kiss her.
Instead you ask, “What if I don't want to forget?”
“What?”
“What if,” You lick your lips and look at hers, “I don’t want to forget?”
“Then I would say that you need to make your feelings really really clear on the matter because I don’t want to play games Beca.”
You nod. “Can I kiss you?” Aubrey’s eyes widen slightly and she’s barely finished nodding before you’re crossing the cushion separating you and slotting your mouth against hers. Your hands move to tangle in her hair and hers fit against your waist, lightly skimming under your shirt to touch the skin there. You don’t really know how long you kiss, because your mind basically goes blank and fuzzy, but you do know that when you pull apart you’re on your back and both your shirts are almost completely pushed off. Aubrey smiles down at you and you lean up to give her a brief kiss.
“Was that clear enough for you?” You tease. Aubrey laughs into your neck and nods before shifting and pushing some hair out of your face.
“Do you want to know what I really want right now?”
“Hmm?”
Smirking slightly and leaning down to press her mouth against yours, Aubrey stops just short of actually kissing you and whispers against your mouth, “Cake.”