Chapter Text
Beca practically lived at Aubrey and Chloe’s apartment at this point.
Well—mostly because she and Chloe had become surprisingly close ever since Beca joined the Barden Bellas. Chloe was probably the only person Beca could actually open up to without feeling painfully vulnerable afterward.
That morning, Beca showed up looking for Chloe so they could walk to rehearsal together. Aubrey usually either left alone or arrived early to organize everything and cover the whiteboard with an aggressively detailed schedule for the rest of the day.
The apartment was completely silent.
Apparently Chloe had already left.
Beca wandered through the apartment until she reached Aubrey’s room.
The sound of the door opening too quickly made Aubrey spin around in shock.
“What the hell—?”
Beca froze in the doorway.
Okay.
Maybe she should’ve knocked first.
The room was flooded with soft morning light and the kind of perfectly organized chaos only Aubrey could create: folded clothes spread across the bed, colorful folders left open, a checklist written in pink highlighter taped to the mirror.
And Aubrey, standing in front of the closet, barely covered by a towel she had very clearly just dropped.
The air became dangerously quiet.
Beca opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
“Uh… Chloe said rehearsal got moved up.”
Great contribution, Mitchell.
Aubrey immediately pressed a hand against her chest, furious and flushed all the way to her ears.
“Do you know how to knock, or do they teach manners in installments back in Seattle?”
But Beca barely heard her.
Because now that she had accidentally entered forbidden territory, her brain decided to completely betray her.
Aubrey’s skin was still damp from the shower, droplets slowly sliding down her neck. Her blonde hair was half pinned up. And there was something in her expression—somewhere between offended and vulnerable—that Beca had never seen before.
It was strange.
Aubrey always seemed made of iron and rules and unbearable pressure.
Not this.
Not human.
Not beautiful.
“Done staring yet?” Aubrey asked, crossing her arms for half a second before realizing that only made the situation worse.
Beca looked away too late.
“I wasn’t staring.”
“Sure.”
“I was… observing the military disaster you call a bedroom.”
“Out.”
Beca should’ve left.
Seriously.
But something about the tension in the room kept her rooted there, leaning against the doorframe while Aubrey huffed and walked toward the bed to grab a Bellas shirt.
And honestly, that didn’t help either.
Because Aubrey seemed completely unaware of the effect she had when she stopped acting like the perfect captain.
When she simply existed.
Beca swallowed hard.
Mistake. Huge mistake.
Aubrey looked up just in time to notice.
And for the first time since they’d met, neither of them said a word.
“Mitchell.”
Aubrey Posen’s voice snapped her out of it.
Beca blinked quickly. “What?”
“I said get out.”
But now Aubrey didn’t sound just annoyed anymore. She sounded nervous.
And that was much worse.
Beca forced herself to push away from the door.
“Yeah. Right. I’m leaving. Congrats on… having skin, I guess.”
“Oh my God.”
Aubrey pulled on the Bellas shirt with quick movements, still refusing to look directly at her.
Beca turned the doorknob, ready to escape the most uncomfortable situation of her life, when she heard:
“Wait.”
She stopped.
When she looked back, Aubrey was sitting on the edge of the bed, adjusting her uniform boots. She didn’t look angry anymore.
Just tired.
Very tired.
“Did Chloe actually say rehearsal got moved up?”
Beca hesitated.
“Yeah.”
“And that’s why you walked in without knocking?”
“The door was open.”
“Because you were late.”
“Because you people live like some weird cult where privacy doesn’t exist.”
That made Aubrey let out a short, dry laugh before she could stop herself.
And wow.
Beca had never heard Aubrey laugh like that before.
Without tension. Without rehearsed perfection.
Real.
The moment only lasted a second before Aubrey shut the expression down again.
“Don’t mention this to the other Bellas.”
“What part?” Beca asked, stepping slightly closer. “The part where I accidentally saw our supreme leader almost naked before eight in the morning?”
Aubrey slowly lifted her gaze.
“Exactly that.”
Something weird was happening now. Something different.
Because normally they’d already be arguing.
But the room stayed trapped in that thick silence where neither of them seemed willing to leave first.
Beca leaned her shoulder against the wall.
“Relax, Posen. I’m not announcing it on CNN.”
“You announce everything with that insufferable indie superiority complex.”
“And you organize your vitamins by color.”
“That’s efficiency.”
“That’s psychotic.”
Aubrey laughed again, a little louder this time.
And once again, Beca’s chest did that uncomfortable thing.
Terrible.
Because suddenly she could see things she’d never noticed before:
the faint shadows under Aubrey’s makeup,
the constant tension in her shoulders,
the way she always took a deep breath before speaking, like she was preparing for something to go wrong.
Aubrey noticed Beca staring again.
“What now?”
Beca swallowed.
“Nothing.”
Lie.
Because now that she’d seen Aubrey like this—unraveled, human, impossible to ignore—she wasn’t sure she could go back.
The walk to rehearsal was strangely quiet.
Beca Mitchell walked a few steps behind Aubrey Posen, watching her hold a folder against her chest like a shield.
Normally Aubrey filled every second of silence with instructions, criticism, or obsessive comments about harmonies.
But not now.
And it made Beca dangerously nervous.
When they entered the auditorium, the Bellas were already there.
“Finally!” Chloe shouted from the stage. “Aubrey was having a meltdown ten minutes ago.”
“I was not having a meltdown,” Aubrey replied automatically.
Beca laughed under her breath.
Aubrey glanced at her.
Just for a second.
Only one second.
But Chloe noticed.
Oh, Chloe definitely noticed.
Her eyes flicked between them with immediate suspicion that made Beca want to disappear.
“Okaaay…” Chloe said slowly. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” both of them answered at the exact same time.
Worse.
Much worse.
The other Bellas barely paid attention, too busy arguing about choreography, but Chloe kept staring at them like she’d just uncovered criminal evidence.
Aubrey cleared her throat.
“From the top. And this time try sounding like an a cappella group instead of dying cats.”
Rehearsal started.
Beca really tried to focus.
Seriously.
But every time she looked up, she found Aubrey correcting positions, moving between the rows with that irritating natural authority that made everyone obey her automatically.
And now her brain was being deeply unhelpful about it.
Because it kept remembering:
the damp skin,
the tension in her voice,
the way she’d covered herself the second Beca walked in.
“Mitchell.”
Beca snapped back to reality.
Aubrey was standing right in front of her, arms crossed.
“Would you like to participate, or are you just going to stare at me all morning?”
Absolute silence.
Several Bellas turned their heads.
Chloe’s eyes widened dramatically.
Heat rushed straight up Beca’s neck.
“I wasn’t staring.”
Aubrey raised an eyebrow.
“Sure.”
A few giggles broke out around the room.
Beca narrowed her eyes.
“You know what? Maybe if someone stopped waving their hands around like a possessed orchestra conductor, I could focus.”
“Maybe if someone learned the correct entrances, I wouldn’t have to.”
The tension returned instantly.
Familiar. Easy. Much safer than the other thing.
But just as Beca opened her mouth to answer, Aubrey stepped closer to correct her posture.
And that was a mistake.
Because now they were too close.
Beca could smell Aubrey’s soft perfume mixed with shampoo and coffee.
And Aubrey clearly noticed too.
Her fingers paused where they barely brushed Beca’s arm.
For a moment, the entire auditorium disappeared.
Then Amy loudly cleared her throat from the back.
“WOW. Weird atmosphere. Super normal. Nothing gay happening here.”
“AMY!” Aubrey shouted, completely red.
The Bellas burst into laughter.
“From the top,” Aubrey said too quickly. “Now.”
The Bellas kept laughing as they moved back into position, though several of them were still whispering to each other.
Fat Amy raised a hand.
“I just wanna say, if this ends in repressed sexual tension, I called it first.”
“No one asked,” Aubrey muttered.
“I wanna hear her out,” Beca mumbled.
Aubrey shot her a murderous look.
Beca smirked slightly.
And that was exactly the problem.
Because Aubrey felt the small flip in her chest before she could stop it.
Annoyed, she turned toward the piano.
“Five, six, seven—”
The music started again.
This time Beca actually tried to focus. But every time their voices blended together in harmony, something strange happened. Something electric.
Aubrey noticed it too.
And it irritated her deeply.
Because Beca Mitchell was chaos. Distraction. Improvisation. Everything Aubrey had spent years trying to avoid.
So why did she keep looking for her in every room?
Rehearsal ended almost an hour later.
The Bellas started scattering between conversations and empty water bottles.
“Aubrey, are you coming to lunch?” Chloe asked.
“I need to go over some sheet music.”
“Of course you do,” Chloe said with a suspicious smile before leaving.
And then they were alone.
Again.
The auditorium suddenly felt enormous.
Beca was packing cables near the stage when she heard footsteps approaching.
She didn’t look up.
“If you’re here to criticize my tempo again, I’m emotionally fragile.”
“Your tempo was horrible.”
Beca smiled.
There it was.
Aubrey stopped beside her, holding the folder against her chest. Calmer now. But still strange.
A few seconds of silence passed.
Then:
“You didn’t stop staring at me during rehearsal.”
Direct. No warning.
Beca slowly lifted her head.
“And how would you know?”
Aubrey opened her mouth. Closed it.
Because she didn’t have a good answer.
Because she hadn’t been able to stop looking either.
Beca stepped closer.
“Does it make you nervous, Posen?”
“No.”
Lie.
It was obvious.
The tense jaw. The fingers gripping the folder too tightly. The slightly uneven breathing.
And Beca—who normally avoided emotional situations like they were contagious diseases—decided to move even closer.
“Then look at me.”
Aubrey did.
Fatal mistake.
Because up close, Beca had always been dangerous:
the dark eyes,
the low voice,
the slight tilt of her head whenever she challenged someone.
But this didn’t feel like a fight.
It felt worse.
“Mitchell…” Aubrey whispered.
Beca didn’t know which one of them leaned in first.
She only knew the space between them disappeared too quickly.
And just as Aubrey’s lips barely brushed hers—
The auditorium door slammed open.
“BECA!” Jesse shouted as he walked in with a grin. “I was looking for you to—”
He stopped.
Silence.
Beca jumped away from Aubrey instantly.
Aubrey stepped back so fast she nearly hit the piano.
And Jesse looked between them, confused.
Because he had just walked in at exactly the right moment to see something he definitely didn’t know how to interpret.
“…okay.”
Jesse Swanson’s voice came out slower than usual.
Beca Mitchell could feel her heart slamming way too hard against her ribs.
Aubrey Posen looked like she was seconds away from completely disintegrating.
“I…,” Jesse started. “Did I interrupt something?”
“No,” both of them answered far too quickly.
Again.
Jesse frowned slightly.
Because something about the scene felt off:
Beca standing completely tense,
Aubrey flushed all the way down her neck,
and barely a few inches separating them.
The silence became unbearable.
Then Aubrey reacted first.
“I have things to do.”
She grabbed the folder against her chest and practically fled the auditorium without looking back once.
Jesse watched her leave.
Then he looked at Beca.
“What was that?”
Beca crouched down to pick up nonexistent cables from the floor.
“Nothing.”
“Becs.”
She hated when he used that soft tone.
Because Jesse wasn’t stupid.
He never had been.
“That looked like a pretty serious ‘nothing.’”
Beca ran a hand through her hair.
“We were arguing.”
“From two inches away?”
“Aubrey invades people’s personal space. It’s like… her version of psychotic leadership.”
Jesse let out a small laugh, but he didn’t seem convinced.
He stepped closer slowly.
“Hey.”
Beca finally looked up.
And that was the problem.
Jesse knew her too well.
Well enough to notice when she avoided looking at him.
Well enough to notice when she was confused.
Well enough to notice that something had just changed.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
And Beca wanted to say yes.
She really did.
But she could still feel the almost-kiss hanging in the air.
She could still remember the way Aubrey had looked at her right before Jesse walked in.
Like she had actually wanted to do it.
“Yeah,” she lied finally.
Jesse watched her for a few more seconds.
Then he nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
But the “okay” sounded fake.
Painfully fake.
—
That night, Beca couldn’t sleep.
She tried editing music.
She tried watching movies.
She tried ignoring the fact that she’d spent the last twenty minutes staring at the same section of audio without hearing a thing.
Because every time she closed her eyes, she saw Aubrey.
Too close.
Breathing just as fast as she was.
Looking at her mouth.
“Then look at me.”
Shit.
Beca let her head fall against the desk.
This was a disaster.
Aubrey probably hated her again after running away like that.
And still, some part of her couldn’t stop wondering what would’ve happened if Jesse had shown up thirty seconds later.
Her phone vibrated against the table.
A new message.
From Aubrey.
Beca stared at it like it was a bomb.
Then she opened the chat.
“What happened today can’t happen again.”
Beca read the message twice.
Three times.
And something in her chest tightened in a strange way.
Because it didn’t say I didn’t want to do it.
It just said it couldn’t happen again.
Beca’s fingers hovered over the keyboard.
And before she could overthink it, she typed:
“Then stop looking at me like that.”