Chapter Text
The German band was still singing and jumping their victory along with the other acapela groups when Beca decided to go and find the bar. The Bellas were the only group that had decided not to join the movement, and Beca thought it only made them look like some sore losers. She herself would have gladly joined the party had her day not so drastically drained her of her spirit and energy. But after a rough day at the studio serving coffee and nachos to patronizing hipsters and part of the evening trying to ease the tensions between some of the Bellas –that the loss they had just endured had not particularly helped with- especially Chloe and Legacy, she felt exhausted. All of this topped with her recent breakup with Jesse –although, thank God, they had decided this as adults and were still on excellent terms- and her confusion about her relationship with a certain blond German goddess (with whom she had yet again failed to talk tonight, because her tongue seemed to have its own brain and intentions when the Kommissar was around), and she felt like an exhausted mess.
She wandered away from the main room where the Riff-off had taken place and came to find that the mansion cellar really had a lot of rooms. That man must really be loaded thought the brunette as she continued on, room after room, each one quieter and less crowded than the one before, until she found the bar. Perfect. Beca reached for her back pocket before she remembered she had only taken her phone and her keys with her. Well, let’s hope it's an open bar.
About an hour later and three drinks in, Beca decided to get off the stool she was sitting on before she ordered one more drink she definitely did not need. She had never really been the kind to have a good resistance to alcohol. She realized it had been a smart choice when she tripped off her stool instead of simply getting off it. She quickly grabbed the last -and fourth- drink she had ordered before having the brilliant idea to stop drinking, probably just for some liquid courage, and went in a corner.
She had decided she would stay there until her roommates would decide that they had had their fun and want to go home. She leaned on one of the walls and, after she got the straw into her mouth on second attempt, she scanned the room she was in.
Although it's fair to say she had not been the first to find the open bar, it would even be more fair to say she had been far from being the last one. People had gradually discovered the other rooms of the cellar and each one was now evenly crowded, not only with acapela group members but also other -fancy dressed- guests. There was music more or less blasting in every single room, and the mood was still very much for celebration; except that now, thanks to the open bar and just a bit of time, everyone was loosening up, even the Bellas. Beca remembered having seen Fat Amy running off with Bumper at some point, Stacey dancing in quite a suggestive way with one of the Green Bay Packers, and let's not forget about Legacy and Benji –despite the fact that they were still being coy and probably sober.
Beca suddenly felt the urge to go to the bathroom. She thought about finding Chloe so they would go look for the ladies' room together. But last time she had seen Chloe, she was talking to some girl in a skin-tight red dress, a glass of champagne in her hand.
Let's not ruin everyone's fun then. She wasn't thinking anymore now, she had come to that stage where she was talking to herself. Or rather mumbling to herself. She set her empty glass on the ground in one remarkably awkward motion (she figured as an excuse that no one would come to this end of the room anyway). Theeeeere you go, big girl. Okay now focus. Bathroom. She cursed herself for wearing heels, and departed on her quest for the loo, always with one hand against the wall for balance.
It had taken her almost twenty minutes to find this damn bathroom. The corridor that led to it was hidden between a thick curtain and it had taken her to do the trip through the cellar twice until she had almost fallen into the corridor when, on the right side of one of the rooms this time, the wall had suddenly given way to the curtains and she had almost lost her balance. After that, she had taken off her shoes.
It had taken her another ten minutes to do what she had come here to do, and an additional five to wash and dry her hands. She felt really slow and foggy. The drinks probably did not have the same alcohol/soda ratio as the ones she was used to drink. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her shirt was tucked out, her eyes half close and she had a piece of lemon in her hair. “However did you get here?” She asked, almost waiting for the piece of lemon to answer her. She set about to take it off when the bathroom door suddenly slammed open and a large man stumbled in. Beca recognized him from the Riff-off; he was one of the Green Bay Packers guys. He reeked of alcohol. And that came from Beca.
"Whoopps. Wrong bathroom."
"Yep. Yours is next door."
"Hey, you're one of those... Bella chicks, right?"
"It appears I am, yes. But you're still in the wrong bathroom." She wondered how she managed to make full sentences to a drunk guy while she was drunk herself.
"Yeah, yeah... You know I noticed how you were all hair over knees when Josh showed off his big guns earlier on and stuff..."
She figured he was referring to his friend ripping off his shirt earlier on. But wait what? ‘Hair over knees’? Did he mean ‘head over heels’? How drunk was this guy? Or were her hearing abilities impaired as well?
"That would have been Fat Amy, actually. Or Stacey, too. I don't really like men with too many muscles."
"You sure? 'Cause I've got a nice pair of those too, you know" he said as he was coming dangerously close to her. He didn't seem ill-intended, but he wasn't even walking straight.
Beca heard the bathroom door open again, but she was more focused on the drunk gorilla coming towards her than about whoever came to do his (or normally her) business here.
"Bathroom's taken" said the gorilla (whose name Beca still ignored). He was so big Beca couldn't even see who had just stepped in. She prayed for that person not to be another intoxicated guy.
"I might not be from this country but I'm pretty sure the sign with a lady wearing a dress on the door means this is the ladies' room" said a feminine voice, ending the sentence with a chuckle.
Thank God, a woman thought Beca. And not just any woman. She was pretty sure she recognized the accent.
"Well whatever, dude, will you just get lost? I'm having a very nice conversation with that cutie right there, and I'm pretty sure we're getting somewhere..." He said as he got closer to Beca once more.
Then he put one of his hands on her hip. The fog in Beca's eyes suddenly seemed to vanish and she immediately stiffened. She cursed herself for having taken her heels off and for having set them down out of reach. But before she could give the situation any further thought, she heard:
"The only place you're getting is out. Now." The Kommissar took a few steps forwards so that she was now standing right behind the man, and in Beca's sight. Her voice had sounded so much more serious this time, and definitely threatening.
The gorilla instinctively took his hand off Beca's hip and slowly turned to look over his shoulder to the German woman standing behind him. She was slightly taller than him, and Beca could see the piercing gaze with which she was staring at him, teeth clenched. His shoulders seemed to drop a little. Was he... Impressed?
"Alright, whatever, I'll just..." He turned back around towards Beca, and the brunette wondered what he was going to say or do next.
She will never forget what happened then. The Kommissar grabbed the Green Bay Packer guy by the back of his neck with one hand -while she was still holding her drink in her other hand- and, kicking open the door, almost literally threw him outside.
//
The tall blond slowly turned around, a smirk on her face and her composure untouched. She walked up to Beca, her icy blue stare searing the brunette's lips close and suddenly making her swallow with difficulty. Once in front of the smaller woman, the Kommissar set down her drink next to the washbasin and made a sharp 90-degree turn to face the bathroom mirror.
Beca did not take her eyes off the German woman as the blond started checking her make-up, hair and outfit -which Beca thought was completely and predictably unnecessary since nothing about her was out of place and she still looked impeccably stunning even after a couple of hours spent singing, dancing, drinking and socializing. The younger woman suddenly felt very self-conscious. One glance in the mirror confirmed to her that her shirt was still tucked out, and that she still had a piece of lemon in her hair. But she also somehow felt very small. And by that, she thought smaller than usual.
At last the Kommissar broke the silence with her endearing accent and her intoxicating deep voice. "Are you okay, tiny Maus?"
She bit her lip, shut her eyes and mumbled some curse under her breath. She looked around for her shoes; they were still on the ground further off. She quickly went to retrieve them and endeavoured to put them on.
"Yeah, yeah, just peachy. If you don't count that I can't walk straight with my heels on, that all of my friends have apparently deserted me and that I just shared a very awkward moment with a man of about 3 times my weight and height and definitely way more drunk than I am, then I'm just great. And let's not even talk about the fact that I somehow feel wildly turned on just because you're here." She bit her tongue right after having said that. "But not like you would care anyway." Why was she talking so much? And why couldn't she seem to put those goddamn shoes on?
The blonde turned around to face her, leaning on the washbasin and crossing her arms. "Why wouldn't I?"
Damn that grin. "Well, I'm just your American mouse or something, so who cares if I'm going through hell right?"
"Have you ever seen a cat let a dog play with its mouse?"
Nailed it. Beca had finally managed to put her shoes on, and the blonde's last cue just hit her mind as she got back up again. The Kommissar was now standing just in front of her, arms still crossed, smirk still on.
"Ahem. Yeah, thanks anyway."
The blonde ran a hand through Beca's hair and the brunette suddenly felt her insides melt. It must have shown on her face because the other woman gave a soft laugh. She picked the piece of lemon out of Beca's hair and gave it lick as she turned back around, walking away from Beca.
Although she was still feeling very foggy from alcohol and a sudden rush of lust she was still trying to fully understand and contain, the brunette started panicking inside when she realized that the Goddess still in front of her a second ago was heading for the door. A wave of suggestions as to how to make her stay just a tad longer flooded her mind. Should she faint? Shout something in German –that would most likely be a swear word since that's the only thing she could remember from her German lessons in high school? Grab her, spin her round and pin her to the door?
She only needed one idea. Fast. "S-s-s-so how come you came in here? Is your timing just as unconsciously perfect as everything else you do? You just happened to need to go to the ladies' room exactly when that guy walked in on me?"
The Kommissar stopped before the door and said over her shoulder; "Oh no, darling. I just saw you moping on your straw all evening long, getting tipsier and tipsier, until you went in here. And then I saw your little friend follow. He seemed... How do you American kids say... Hammered? Not exactly the kind that's in control." She took a sip of her drink. "Even with lemon in your hair, your shirt askew and four drinks in, you're still my tiny Maus." She slowly scanned Beca up and down as her smirk broadened. "Stay safe, ja? See you in Copenhagen soon."
And with that she was out the door, her heels echoing through the hallway.
Beca's fingers immediately went to her throat. Her pulse was going berserk.