Pitch Perfect 1. Prologue

**I know that I probably shouldn't be starting this yet, considering I'm juggling 2 other stories (badly, might I add), but I've had this sitting in the back of my mind for several months, and I, being the impatient butt that I am, just couldn't wait to get started on it! Bright side, I have the WHOLE THING plotted and mapped out, and several chapters prewritten, so yay! This is really short, but I hope it gets you guys interested in what's to come!  
Disclaimer: I don't own Pitch Perfect, or The Music Producer Awards.**

PROLOGUE

The cameras set off a myriad of flashes, leaving spots dancing across her eyes. As she smoothed her evening gown and stopped to pose for one, two, endless pictures, she could feel a rush of excitement pumping through her veins.

_"Beca! Beca, over here darling!"_

_"Beca, smile this way!"_

_"Beca, could you turn your hip just a smidge?"_

_"Beca Mitchell, how does it feel to be one of the youngest, most successful music producers in the business?"_

The screaming of the paparazzi and reporters were dulling her hearing, but if anything, she smiled brighter. She had worked hard for this feeling of being in control. Of being on top. And now, as she stood in the entryway of The Music Producer Awards, Beca held her head high, because she was proud of herself, dammit. She had worked her ass off to be where she was today. Nobody said that getting Christina Aguilera, Justin Timberlake, and Usher in the studio _in the same week _would be an easy feat, did they? Good. Because it wasn't. And now that Beca was nominated for four different awards in four different categories, she sure as hell wasn't about to complain.

With another smile, she turned on her heel, and slipped into the building, ready to see what life had in store for her next.

:-):-O;-D

Jesse Swanson was living the dream.

Well, kind of.

As he stopped in the middle of the room and did a one eighty twist, a flurry of colors danced in front of his eyes, and triggered a wide grin that spread across his face for the eightieth time that day. He finally did it. With the help of his weird-ass (but loyal) roommates, he finally opened up that little used bookshop/movie shop/music shop that he had been talking about for God knows how long. Sure it was small, and somewhat cramped and could use a few blasts of air freshener, but it was _his_. It was a way for him to combine the two loves of his live: Movies and music. Music and movies. Plus, it was a great way for him to get over his evil ex-wife, Marissa. The divorce had been finalized eight months ago, but it still stung. The fact that she would step out on him with the greasy burger joint owner on the other side of town was like a slap in the face, and Jesse was _so done_ thinking about her.

The pain that he harbored from the divorce was easily overshadowed by the thrill of opening his shop though, and he'll be damned if the thoughts of that blonde she-demon came back to haunt him. It's not going down like that. He was learning to live without her, one step at a time. Step one, move out. Check. Step two, move in (to the apartment above the bookstore that was _his_. Catch that? _His_). Check. Step three, move on. Jesse was still working on that one, but his determination was at an all-time high. Jesse Swanson was going to find happiness. Because he freaking deserved it.

The ping of the bell above the front door pulled Jesse to the present. Re-painting the smile on his face, Jesse slipped behind the front counter and prepared to greet his first customer of the evening.

"Hey there! Welcome to Barden Books."

**This story is based on one of my favorite movies, so...let's see if anyone can guess what it is! Hint hint, it's British, and it's a Julia Roberts movie! If you can guess, I'll be sending out previews of chapter one! (Holly, if you're reading this, you aren't allowed to guess, because I already told you.) Hope you guys liked this sneak peek, and if you did, review please? Thanks for reading!**


	2. Back In Barden

**Wow. Just wow. What do I say? Thank you guys so much for favorite-ing and following and reviewing! And everyone who guessed got it right! This is, indeed based on Notting Hill! You clever little beasts. Anyways, I couldn't wait any longer! Here's chapter one! :-)**

**Disclaimer: Now that the cat's out of the bag, I don't own Notting Hill. I also don't own Cheez-Whiz or Nutella. But if I owned Nutella...**

CHAPTER ONE

Jesse knew Beca Mitchell. Well, he knew of her. She was only one of the most popular music producers in the United States, so he couldn't help but hear of her endeavors once in a while, or see her in a picture every now and again. He knew that she was twenty six, much like he, and he knew that she was short enough to make Kevin Hart look almost normal sized. He had heard her music before, and he knew she had talent, and he knew that she was un-obviously beautiful enough to make almost any man in the country fall at her feet.

He also knew that they lived in different worlds. Her, in the razzle-dazzle, bright lights, big city world of Los Angeles, California, and he, in the itty-bitty bleak universe known as Barden, Louisiana. It was small enough to disappear on most maps, and secluded to the point where if you drove there willingly, and you weren't a regular, everyone would assume that you were lost.

As Jesse strolled down Barden Road, he blinked unwaveringly at the bizarre surroundings that greeted him every morning. He slowed his step when a big guy with a clear hangover stumbled out of the corner tattoo shop, furiously squinting at the swollen print on his upper arm that proudly displayed his love for 'Ken'. He grimaced slightly at the sight of a woman strolling out of the hair salon across the street, looking more or less like the cookie monster with her wavy blue hair cascading around her face.

Barden Road did have its good points though. Everyone in the community was very tight knit, and Jesse had, in fact, grown up in Barden, therefore giving off the feeling of love and acceptance wherever he went. Continuing down the street, Jesse threw waves at his neighbors and the various shopkeepers, feeling grateful that he got the opportunity to start off his Saturday morning surrounded by friends.

As he turned the corner, Jesse looked down the crowded street with a wince, and cursed to himself as he remembered that it was, in fact, Saturday; the day of the week where majority of the students from Barden University, which sat five blocks away, gathered on the pavement to gawk at the many antique stalls and vendors that always seemed to magically appear, blocking the sidewalk all the way up to his doorway that sat at the end of the street.

After skirting through the crowd and approaching his bright blue door (skillfully avoiding the calls of the vendors, offering to sell him a genuine/not-so-genuine Egyptian artifact for only $29.99), Jesse slipped inside, and shut the door behind him. While leaning his weight against the door, and clutching the grocery bag in his hand, Jesse decided that he was more than ready to enjoy his breakfast in peace.

"Jesse! My main man! With the food!"

"Whazzup man? Hey, did you get more peanut butter?"

"Whoa, bro, Nutella? You're the best!"

"Dude, where's the Cheese Whiz? I asked for Cheese Whiz."

"The Cheese Whiz is right there, dumb ass. No wonder you wear glasses."

Jesse rolled his eyes as his roommates, Bumper and Donald, ambled down the stairs and began rooting through the brown paper bag in his arms. Bumper and Donald had been Jesse's closest friends while he was growing up, with the two of them always living within walking distance. After the fallout with Marissa, they quickly helped Jesse get back on his feet by looking for apartments with him, and after finding a three bedroom over a building that was for lease, offering to move in with him. The guys definitely had their faults, what with Bumper being a foul mouthed womanizer, and Donald…he was just weird. He was into some weird stuff. But they were always there for him, and he wouldn't change a thing.

Jesse relinquished the bag and shook his head as the guys began attacking the jars and cans like wild animals. Feeling daring, Jesse slipped his hand in the bag for the loaf of Wonder Bread that he purchased earlier, and sighed in relief when he pulled out the bread, and his arm. Stepping around them, he slipped into the kitchen and popped two slices of bread into the toaster before turning back to the guys.

"Hey, Jesse, help me out with something?" Bumper asked as he moseyed into the kitchen with his fingers in the Nutella Jar.

"Sure. What? And put some pants on."

Bumper rolled his eyes and waved Jesse off before continuing. "I got that chick from the hair salon to go out with me tonight. Now, thing is, your ex? She was hot. Like, really hot. And how you landed her, I will never know. So help me out here. What shirt do I wear?"

Though Jesse's eyes flashed at the mention of Marissa, he let his thoughts of her roll off of his back, and instead focused on Bumper's dilemma. "Yeah, ok. What options do you have?"

Jesse positioned himself at the bottom of the stairwell as Bumper dashed upstairs to switch his shirt.

"Alright, so there's this one." Bumper murmured as he reappeared in a white T-shirt with a weird red pattern on the front, and 'I love blood' scrawled across it in a gory font.

Jesse winced at Bumper choice before reaching for the discarded grocery bag to put the rest of the food away. "Maybe not that one. It screams 'I'm a serial killer. Get in my car.'" Bumper pursed his lips and nodded before dashing back up the stairs. Jesse watched him disappear, and then slipped the jar of peanut butter into the cupboard.

"Next option, this one." Bumper uttered as he recurred, wearing a different, tighter white T-shirt, this one displaying the words 'Get it Here', along with a big black arrow, directed towards his crotch.

"That one? That's-no. No. Definitely not that one."

As Bumper vanished once more, Jesse slipped the carton of milk in the fridge and repositioned himself by the stairwell. "Okay, Mr. Critic. How about this one?" Bumper whined as he came down the stairs one more, this time in a simple red and blue striped Polo shirt.

Jesse let out a breath of relief and nodded his head slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, that one's good." Bumper clapped his hands and let out an inappropriate hip thrust in excitement. "Yes!" he crooned. "This shirt is gonna get me laid! I can feel it!" he continued as he went back upstairs.

Jesse stared blankly at the direction of Bumper's departure before shrugging and turning back to the kitchen.

"Please don't say anything like that while you're out with her. And for the love of God, put some pants on." Jesse yelled after him as he grabbed his toast and strode through the front door.

:-):-O;-D

"Great to see you too, Dad. Sheila."

"Bye sweetie! Be sure to come and visit us more!" Sheila called after Beca's retreating back. Beca offered a weak wave in return as she pulled her hat lower on her head, and slipped into her car. The reason why her father chose to settle in Barden with her nutty step-monster, Sheila was lost on her. Sure, it meant that he could be close to his job, and the town itself was cute, but Beca still didn't understand how he had survived out here, away from civilization for so long.

When Beca was twelve, her parents split up. The divorce was bittersweet, and though Beca refused to talk about it, and insisted that she was fine, it shattered her on the inside. To escape the memories, Beca's mother moved them from Boston to Los Angeles, while her dad accepted a teaching job at Barden U, and eventually married Sheila, and had the whole, small town, white picket fence, 2.5 kids and a dog lifestyle that Beca never got.

Instead, she learned the ways of California living and independence, as she eventually graduated from West Valley Charter High School, and moved on to UCLA. By the time her graduation rolled around, Beca had made a small name for herself, what with being a popular DJ among the various clubs that she worked at, in an attempt to pay off her college tuition. Shortly after tossing her cap and celebrating, Beca found herself accepting a junior producing job at a popular record label in L.A. From then on, Beca slowly inched her way to the top with the support of her mom, her college buddy Stacie, and her co-workers, including Aubrey and Chloe, the heads of her department.

Throughout all of her successful undertakings, Beca still paid regular visits to her dad and Sheila in the quaint town of Barden. He was her dad, after all, and she loved him. And Sheila was…there. Beca was a long ways from her luxury apartment in California, but as she started up her rental car, she felt a sudden rush of hesitation to head back. While living in popular demand was nice, she always found herself vying for the quiet and the serenity that she found surrounding her at that very moment.

_Maybe I could stick around for another hour or so_, she thought to herself. Who would it hurt? Her flight didn't leave for another few hours, and she could really go for some self-dubbed 'Beca time'. Satisfied with her decision, Beca hopped out of her car, and began walking.

She meandered aimlessly for quite some time, glancing at the dusty antique stalls that lined the street, until a little shop next to a bright blue door caught her eye. 'Barden Books', the sign above the shop said. Beca stepped forward and pushed open the glass door of the shop, while trying to remember the last time that she'd read a good book.

**And there it is! Hope you guys liked it! If you did, or if you didn't, review please? Thanks for reading!**


	3. Meeting Number One

**I'm ****_baaaaaaack. _*****cue dramatic lightning strike and organ chord* No, just kidding. Though, this is the first time that I've actually gotten to sit down and actually ****_use _****my computer in like a week or so. So, er sorry for the delay, but thank you for reviewing, and following, and favorite-ing! It really warmed my tailfeathers! Chapter's down there!**

**Disclaimer: Crap ton of references in here, so I don't own anything familiar. You know the drill.**

So, business was slow. Blame the fact that the products were outdated, or that Benji, Jesse's assistant, insisted upon attracting customers with close up magic when they walked in (therefore causing a good chunk of them to walk right back out), but the fact of the matter was that the bookstore wasn't doing so fantastically. No one came to Barden Road. And when they did, they weren't exactly barreling down the door of the bookstore to get the dustiest copy of The Old Man and the Sea that they could find.

Jesse sighed heavily, as he checked his very full inventory once more. Benji, clad in a dark cape and gripping a traditional wand in his hand, shifted away from his box of wonder, and moved to pat Jesse on the back. "People will come." He mollified, as he switched his wand to his other hand and ushered Jesse out of the stockroom.

"Yeah." Jesse muttered dejectedly as he trudged behind the counter, feeling the tiniest bit bitter.

Benji, upset by seeing Jesse so glum, perked up as he got an idea. "Feeling like a coffee?" he chirped brightly. "I can run over to Lou's! They have the best creamer."

Although coffee was the last thing on Jesse's mind at the moment, he smiled at Benji's attempts to cheer him up. "Yeah, alright." He smiled. "Coffee sounds great."

Benji threw a bright smile Jesse's way, before bustling out the door. He was on a mission now. Mission Get Jesse Coffee And Make Him Smile, Because Grumpy Jesse Isn't Favorable Towards Anyone. Or, MGJCAMHSBGJIFTA.

When the bell above the door chimed, and a small woman skirted in as Benji departed, Jesse didn't think anything of it. Well, except for the little internal jolt of excitement that he got every time he had a new customer. "Welcome to Barden Books!" he called out joyously, and the woman turned her head slightly in his direction and nodded a little bit. Pulling her jacket tighter around her petite frame, she shuffled to the CD rack, and began thumbing through the plastic cases with her head down. Her bulky wool hat cast a dark shadow across her pale cheeks that made it difficult to see her features, and her quiet stealth, along with the thin auburn lock that escaped the confines of her hat piqued Jesse's interest.

Suspiciously, he took a few steps in her direction before calling out to her once more. "So, uh, can I help you find anything?" he questioned.

The woman stuck her tongue in her left cheek as she flipped a CD case in her hands before raising her face to meet Jesse's eyes.

"No. Thanks." She said softly with a slight half smile. When the woman's icy, yet soulful blue eyes met his, Jesse froze in place. As he traced the delicate features of her face with his pupils, he instantaneously matched every one of them, from the slope of her nose to the peak of her lips, to the aspects of the many snapshots of a young woman that filled the various magazines across America, and were ingrained in Jesse's mind from the overexposure.

_Holy shit._

As the thought sunk in that Beca Mitchell, _the_ Beca Mitchell that had been referred to in nearly every music related event over the past several months was actually visiting his little bookshop, Jesse lost all traces of suave character that he might have once had.

"Uh, that um—yeah. Okay. No problem. So, uh, I'll be, you know, over here. If you, um, need anything. Anything at all. Just…uh, I'm here. Right behind that desk over there. So you know." he stammered.

Beca, totally used to the display that was unfolding before her when someone realized who she was , simply nodded once more, and smiled in his direction before continuing down the CD isle. "Great."

"Great." Jesse repeated before walking back to his aforementioned desk, mentally kicking himself all the way, because couldn't he just be cool for one goddamned minute? _One goddamned minute?_

Glancing around the metal racks, Beca picked up any and every CD that caught her eye. Beca wasn't choosy about music, what with her being known for creating hit music in almost every genre, and she was genuinely fascinated by the array of melodic tracks that were spread before her. From Bob Marley to Christina Aguilera, to ACDC, Beca was in a musical sanctuary, and it was heavenly. That, plus (ignoring the flustered weirdo at the front desk) there weren't any paparazzi or crazed fans within a five mile radius.

As if on cue, Jesse's eyes flickered to the small security screen behind his desk, and he noticed the skinny guy with curly dark hair and a bit of a hunch who had walked in a few minutes before Benji left. Jesse rolled his eyes, and began to walk towards the back of the store as the monitor displayed the guy trying to waddle away after stuffing something down the front of his pants.

"Excuse me," Jesse began as he approached the guy. The guy's eyes widened as he was stopped by Jesse. He cleared his throat, and maintained his composure as he defiantly lifted his head, and looked Jesse in the eye. "Yes, can I help you?" he replied coolly with a lisp and slightly narrowed eyes.

Jesse winced sarcastically and began. "So, the thing is, we've got these things now. They're like…security cameras. We call them security cameras."

"So?" the guy questioned nervously, his eyes darting around the store.

"So," Jesse continued tactfully. "So, I saw you stick that book down your, er, pants back there."

At this, Beca's head snapped up, and she watched the scene that was unfolding with fascination, and aversion.

"No I didn't." the guy said defensively as his voice heightened, his face paled, and he began to shake his head rapidly in repetitions of three.

"Yeah, actually, you did." Jesse replied nonchalantly.

"There's no book down my pants." The guy insisted with wide eyes and pursed lips.

"Right." Jesse said slowly, giving up. "So, what we'll do is, I'll just go ahead and call the cops now, and uh, if that isn't a book down your pants, then I'll owe you a big apology."

If at all possible, the guy's eyes widened even more as he grabbed Jesse's arm to keep him from walking away.

"So, let's just say that there was a book down my pants." He lisped. "What would happen next?"

Jesse sighed as he turned back to the guy. "Well, the way I see it, you could either take that copy of The Audacity of Hope from your pants and…" Jesse grimaced slightly as he continued. "Wipe it off and put it back, or you could maybe buy it. The choice is yours. Keep me posted." Jesse clapped the guy twice on the shoulder, before turning and heading for the front desk. While his back was turned, Beca witnessed the guy swiftly pull the book from his pants and begin furiously rubbing it off with one of his sleeves.

Rolling her eyes at the immense stupidity exhibited before her, Beca picked up the CD before her, and examined the track list. _Simple Minds, _she noted before proceeding to the register. _Alright then._

As Beca approached the counter leisurely, Jesse notably straightened up and pushed his shoulders back. Shooting an incredulous glance at the guy in the back of the store, who was still furiously rubbing the book with the thin cloth of his shirt, Beca turned towards Jesse with a wary smile. "You know, I was actually thinking of jacking one of these," she said sarcastically while gesturing to the CD in her hands. "But, uh, after that whole spectacle back there, I think I'll pass." Her smile turned to one of teasing as she placed the CD on the counter.

Jesse, totally unsure of how to act, (because he had never found an instruction manual of how to act after a celebrity walks into your store and sees a guy try to leave with a book down his pants) laughed a little bit too loudly, and hurriedly scanned the CD and plucked up Beca's credit card.

"Yeah, that was…surreal. Oh! The Breakfast Club soundtrack! One of the best movies of all time, don't you think?"

"I've actually never seen it." Beca sighed after taking her card back from Jesse and placing it in her wallet.

Jesse's eyes widened slightly, because she hadn't seen the cultural masterpiece that was _The Breakfast Club? _It was almost inexcusable.

"You've never…you've never seen–wait right here." He said as he dashed to the movie section. Briskly skimming the DVD's in the racks, his eyes stopped on a case with a similar cover to that of Beca's CD. As he picked it up, and began strolling back towards the desk, he noticed the book-down-the-pants guy shuffling towards Beca.

"You're—you're Beca Mitchell right?" he lisped. Beca winced slightly as she looked up to meet the guy's gaze. After realizing that it was in fact her, he began talking a mile a minute. "I loved that song that you did with Adele last month. Ache Subsided? It brought me out of a really dark place after I was rejected by the Army. And shoved into a Dora the Explorer backpack. And pushed into the ladies dressing rooms at Kohl's wearing nothing but suspenders."

Beca blinked in disbelief, before inching away from the guy a little and craning her neck to see if the counter dude was on his way back. "That's, uh, really great. Really great." She said awkwardly as she shifted her feet, wishing that for once, she could just be a nobody again.

As Jesse took his place behind the counter, the guy had an epiphany, and pulled an old receipt out of his pocket. "Hey, can I have your autograph? To Tommy?"

With slight disdain, Beca grabbed the paper from Tommy along with a pen from the counter guy. After scrawling something on the back, along with her name, she handed it back with a forced smile. Tommy squinted at the paper, trying to decipher Beca's messy handwriting before caving and asking her what she wrote.

Beca sucked in a breath, and pressed her lips together. "Tommy, be sure that you don't drop the soap. Beca Mitchell." She read off.

Jesse stifled a laugh as he grabbed his pen back from Beca. Tommy nodded acceptingly before shoving the paper in his pocket and strolling towards the exit.

"Good one." Jesse chirped as Tommy disappeared through the front door.

"I try." Beca deadpanned as she turned towards the counter, giving the counter guy her attention. "So…I was told to wait right here. Provided that that wasn't a trap to lure me onto some kind of a marked trapdoor, triggering my disappearance, I'm kind of intrigued as to why."

Jesse laughed genuinely before holding the DVD case up so that Beca could see it. Beca glanced at the photo of a group of angsty-looking teenagers leaning against a chalkboard, with the exception of one, who was curled up on the floor, before looking back up at the counter guy. "The Breakfast Club. Also known by the majority of the population as the quintessential 1980s film. This movie is a rite of passage." He said earnestly while shaking the case slightly for emphasis. "Also," he continued as he grabbed Beca's CD and held it up in his other hand. "The best scored and soundtracked movie of its time."

"Wow." Beca nodded approvingly. "Someone did their homework."

"I try." Jesse smiled as he slipped both the movie, and the CD into the bag. "Just in case you ever get some free time, be sure to allow yourself to experience one of the greatest movies of all time." He said as he pressed the bag and a receipt into Beca's hand.

Beca smirked as she gripped the handles of the bag with one hand, and raised the one holding the receipt to her forehead in an attempt to send the guy some kind of salute. "Can do." She chuckled, knowing that she probably wouldn't wind up watching it due to her distaste for the time consuming color flashes known as movies. But still, it was a sweet gesture. "And thanks." She said as she flashed him a sincere smile before pushing open the glass door and bursting into the sunlight.

As she continued down the block, she began to transfer the receipt into her other hand when a small dark signature, noting the presence of the guy at the counter when she got her CD and movie. _Jesse Swanson_, it read. _Like Jesse Carmichael,_ Beca noted. _Nice._

:-) :-O ;-D

Jesse took a deep breath, and ran his hand through his hair. Well. He survived that. Score one for him. Maybe he should be the one to write that book. In all honesty though, Beca was…cool. Not that he could really judge her based on their five-minute encounter, but she seemed pretty down to earth. And already far better than that teenage pop star who was pissing in mop buckets. Bieber, or whatever? Whatever.

Not long after Beca's departure, Benji came stumbling in the front door with a large brown stain down the front of his T-Shirt. "So, um, something happened with your coffee…" Benji began. Thank goodness Benji's cape was black, because Jesse knew that a stain on that thing would ensure that Benji flipped his shit. His light blue Yoda shirt, however, had suffered a terrible, likely permanent fate.

Jesse strode over to Benji with a concerned look on his face. "Dude, ouch. Are you okay?"

Benji nodded copiously before pulling his shirt a few centimeters in front of his chest in an attempt to air dry it a little bit. "Oh, yeah. Totally fine. I was almost here too, when your roommates came running down the street towards this stand that had Fireball Burritos, and one of them kinda ran into me. The shorter one."

Jesse rolled his eyes, and sighed heavily, because _really_ Bumper? "Well good thing you're okay." Jesse relented as he patted Benji on the back. "It was probably a sign that I didn't need the caffeine anyways. In fact, I think I could go for an orange juice." Jesse said.

Benji brightened and began heading for the door until Jesse reached out to stop him.

"Actually, you sit tight, and I'll get it this time."

**The inevitable first meeting! Was it as grandiose as you guys thought it would be? No? That's cool. There's always the second one;-)**

**So, if you liked it, review please? Thanks for reading!**


	4. Meeting Number Two

**Ugh. Don't even. Chapter's down there.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything familiar.**

Jesse swears that it was an accident. _Because it was an accident. _

:-) :-O ;-D

Beca turned the cool plastic bag in her hand. The fact that she found a decent clothing store in her dad's little town shocked her to the nth degree, but she figured that she shouldn't have judged the tiny town so quickly. After leaving the bookstore (still shaking her head at the whole book-down-the-pants debacle) Beca had been continuing to enjoy her quiet morning in Barden before she had to hop in her rental car, and fly back to California.

Beca shifted her bag to her other hand as she approached the shady tree that she had parked her car under an hour or so ago, only to look around the space blankly, because…no car. Beca blinked twice before turning around in a circle slowly, praying that her car would magically appear once more when she was facing the right direction. As Beca faced the front again, she found no car. However, she did find the little red fire hydrant that was placed oh-so-cleverly in the tall grass next to the shady tree. _Dammit._

Beca groaned and let out a nicely sized list of profanities under her breath as she walked back toward the curb. She needed a coffee. Well actually, she needed her car back, but for now, just a coffee would do.

:-) :-O ;-D

"Thanks Lou." Jesse called as he picked up the cups of orange juice, one with pulp (due to Benji's insistence), and one pulp free, because Lou had everything in his little corner shop. Literally. Last month, Benji has come dashing into Lou's frantically searching for a jar of pickled anchovies for his newest magic trick, and Lou's only response was "salted, or unsalted?"

Now, here's where the accident comes in. Lou's building was placed on a blind corner (notably by the same crafty bastard that had chosen the locations of the Barden fire hydrants, go figure), and everyone in town knew it. The only person who wouldn't know to stay to the far right of the curb while rounding it would be, well, a tourist or something of the sort. So when Jesse rounded the corner with ease, someone else did as well.

And the mutual cries of "holy shit," traveled down the street as the orange juice flew.

:-) :-O ;-D

Beca's only thought, as the cold liquid seeped through her tank top, was that someone was going to _die_ today.

:-) :-O ;-D

Jesse cursed under his breath as he surveyed the collateral damage that the orange juice had caused. Beca cursed, not-so-much under her breath as she stretched her shirt a few centimeters in front of her chest.

"Oh my God." Jesse gaped, taking a step backwards as he recognized Beca. This was bad. Really bad. You don't just go and spill your orange juice all over a really admittedly pretty, world-famous music producer. Jesse knew this. And yet it happened anyways, because someone above must really enjoy watching Jesse suffer. Beca's cheeks flushed as she continued to fan her tank top. "Oh. My God." Jesse repeated as he scrambled to pick up the napkins that he had dropped along with the orange juice.

"So you've said." Beca snapped through gritted teeth as she stared down at her shirt.

"Oh my…gosh. I'm really sorry." Jesse stammered as he got up and handed Beca the napkins. Beca took a deep breath and softened her tone as she accepted the napkin, now identifying the guy as the flustered counter guy from the bookshop. Jesse, was it? "It's fine." She sighed as she blotted her shirt. "I've always wanted to smell like a fruit cocktail, so I guess this is my moment." Beca deadpanned while throwing the napkin into a nearby bin and stretching the hem of her tank top once more. It was just her luck that she had decided to opt for a white shirt instead of one of her traditional black ones. But that's just how things worked, Beca amended.

Jesse nervously chuckled and wiped his palms against his jeans as he got an idea, seeing Beca's soaked shirt. "Do you…like, need to use a sink or something? There's one at my apartment!" Jesse winced because he really hoped that that didn't come across as creepy.

Beca raised an eyebrow, because that came across as a little bit creepy. "I, uh…that's okay. I'll be fine. I just ah, need to get my car back, because those Barden parking cops don't take a holiday." Beca said as she wrapped her jacket tightly around her frame. Although, Beca couldn't mentally deny it. Rinsing out her shirt sounded really good, because she was already chafing, and the strong smell of orange juice was irritating her nose.

Jesse shook his head, because he knew that he was messing things up, and he really just wanted to help. "Are you sure? I promise I'm not a bad guy or anything, and it's right there, next to the bookshop. And you can use my phone to call for your car, if you want." Jesse amended as he craned his neck and pointed down the street to his door.

Beca followed Jesse's arm and bit her lip, because she knew that if she went with this guy, she would most likely wind up on an episode of Snapped, and that would be bad. Very bad. But, Beca could feel the skin on her stomach becoming sticky, and she knew that she had to change. And there had to be cops within yelling distance, right? And Beca sure as hell didn't take those three jujitsu lessons four years ago for nothing. Beca blew out a deep breath as she turned back to Jesse. "Alright." She sighed. "Alright." Jesse repeated as he ushered Beca down the street.

After unlocking the door and stepping inside, Jesse rushed around trying to kick Bumper's unmentionables out of public view (because the guy literally had no idea what a hamper was, and it was pitiful), while Beca stood idly in the doorway clutching her shopping bags. Jesse, after quickly shoving at least four pairs of boxers/tighty-whities under a rug, rushed back to Beca with a receiver in his hand. "Um, here's the phone. And the bathroom is right up the stairs and to your right. I would send you to the one down the hall, but ah, that's my roommate's bathroom, and I don't want you to sue me." Beca smiled tightly and accepted the receiver with a thank you before climbing up the stairs cautiously.

As Beca disappeared up the stairs, Jesse slumped on the couch, completely overwhelmed and exhausted from the morning's events. Running his hand down his face, Jesse desperately tried to stop his head from spinning. Because _the_ Beca Mitchell was in his minuscule apartment on Barden Road, using his facilities, and smiling at his lame ass jokes, and it was messing him up internally.

A startling vibration was set off in Jesse's pocket, distracting him from his Beca infested thoughts as he pulled his phone from his pocket. _I'm coming over_, the message read plainly causing Jesse to furrow his brow and blink at the random text message. He barely had enough time to check for the sender of the message before a loud pounding on the door and the slam of it opening abruptly made him jump from his position on the couch.

"I'm here." The big boned blonde called out into Jesse's apartment. Her thick Australian accent morphed her words into sounding more like "I'm hee-ah," as she kicked off her pumps and sauntered past Jesse and into the kitchen. Jesse relaxed slightly at the recognition of his neighbor Fat Amy, before tensing up all over again.

Amy had been his neighbor since he first moved in with Bumper and Donald, and she was very, er, out there to say the least. She kept the guys entertained though with her tales about her days in Australia and her short lived professional alligator roping career.

"Uh, what's up Amy?" he bleated tiredly as he shuffled into the kitchen and stood next to the counter.

"A tree trunk's about to be up your roomie's ass, that's what up Swanson!" Fat Amy snapped angrily as she began rifling through Jesse's fridge. Jesse ran his hand as he realized that she was talking about her on again/off again, maybe, maybe not, sort of a thing/not really a thing/completely a thing/absolutely NOT a thing relationship with Bumper. Jesse could tell that word got around about his date, and Jesse had been expecting Amy's visit, really. He just hadn't been expecting it so soon.

"Where does he get off taking that little clip and snip slut to the cinema? I mean I'm sure as hell not gonna date your roomie, but that doesn't give the little bastard permission to screw around on me! Where does he find his nerve?" Amy shoved half of a sandwich in her mouth and grabbed a can of whipped cream before storming off to Bumper's room. "Amy—," Jesse started, taking a step in her direction.

"DON'T YOU FOLLOW ME SWANSON." Amy shouted as she disappeared, slamming the door behind her.

Jesse shut his eyes tightly, already thinking up ways to explain the impending collateral damage to his roommate when he returned.

"Girlfriend?" a small voice piped up from a few feet away.

Jesse's eyes widened as he noticed Beca leaning casually in the doorway. Gone was her sticky wet t-shirt, though Jesse could see it poking out of the top of one of her bags, and in its place was a slinky blue dress that slimmed her hips, made her hooded eyes pop, and made her look more beautiful than the media made her out to be. The dress also rendered Jesse speechless for…what, the third time that day?

"Uh, ah, umm…uh, no. No. _No. _She's my neighbor. And friend. Just a friend. You look pretty. Are you hungry?" Jesse rushed to the open refrigerator and scanned it for something to do, because whatever it was that he was doing was sure as hell _not_ working.

"We have cranberry juice," Jesse rushed, pulling out a bottle and setting it on the counter.

"For all of my colon cleaning necessities." Beca deadpanned quietly.

"And there's…I think grapes in honey…" Jesse continued pulling out a suspicious looking jar.

Beca furrowed her brow. "People…people do that? No. Uh, no thanks. I'm good."

"And then I'm pretty sure Donald has some takeout from a couple of weeks ago…" Jesse bent down to get a good look at the bottom shelf in the fridge. Beca grimaced, laughing slightly. "Dude, no! That's okay! Thank you though." she handed him the receiver. "I should get going. I have to catch my flig—,"

Beca was cut off by a long roll of thunder and a flash outside the window, followed by the heavy tapping of rain on Jesse's windows. Huh. Jesse guessed that in all of the chaos, they never noticed the darkening clouds in the sky. Beca let out a heavy sigh as she zipped up her coat, which still smelled faintly of citrus.

"Here," Jesse strode to the basket by the front door and pulled out a plain black umbrella. Beca accepted it from him hesitantly. "I don't know when I'll be able to give this back though." Beca insisted. Jesse shrugged boyishly and pushed the umbrella further into her grip. "I guess you'll just have to look me up then. Have a safe flight." He smiled.

Beca locked eyes with the dork who saved her from (after causing) her chafing shirt, and who was now basically giving her his umbrella. _And they said chivalry was dead. _"Thanks." Beca smiled slightly, moving towards the door. "Anytime," Jesse said as he moved to open it for her, closing it quietly behind her.

Jesse turned on his heel ready to plop on his couch and analyze every way that he screwed up, and how he could be less of a weirdo in the future when a sharp knock sounded on the front door. Jesse opened it to find an awkwardly smiling Beca still on the other side.

"You…still have my other bag." She sighed, gesturing towards the staircase, and more importantly the bag that was sitting next to it. "Right! Right. Sorry about that." Jesse said, rushing over to get Beca her bag. "Remember to watch the movie, okay? It's a masterpiece." Jesse sing-songed as he held out the bag holding Beca's movie and CD. Beca smiled and nodded, accepting the bag from Jesse. "I'll see what I can do." She reassured him. "Good." Jesse smiled.

Before she could stop herself, and before she could remind herself that she didn't really know this guy, Beca stepped forward and balanced a hand on his shoulder before placing a warm kiss on his cheek. Jesse could feel his face burning where her soft lips were, and he could practically hear a symphony playing in the distance. As Beca pulled away, Jesse stood shell shocked, mouth slightly agape. "Thanks weirdo." Beca whispered with a smile before exiting and pulling the door shut behind her.

Jesse could still remember the feeling of her lips against his skin, and the smell of her perfume mixed with orange juice as he stared at the place that she once was. Because of the little gift that she just left him, Jesse knew that he would have a very hard time forgetting Beca Mitchell.

Fat Amy came rushing out of Bumper's room, a small trail of smoke following her. "Yeah, so…I may have started a small fire…on a stack of things that Bumper holds dear."

**Sorry about that guys. I kinda had to take a bit of a writing hiatus to get my stuff in order. Thank you all so much for your reviews and follows and favorites and encouragement while I was MIA though! Yes, yes, I know that this chapter is incredibly crappy for its lateness, but I needed to get this out of the way so that I can move on with the plot. Normally, I would refrain from posting a chapter that I'm not happy with, but this has been haunting me for months, and I hate it, I hate it so much. But it had to be done. Whew. Anyhoo, hope things are going well on your end guys! I'd love to know you thoughts and opinions, so, urhm, review please? Thanks for reading! :)**

**P.S, good news for you guys, I'm dying from illness (overdramatically tackling my allergies), so I'm gonna get as much writing done as possible today! High five! *high fives self***

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**PEOPLE WHO I WISH I COULD REPLY TO BUT ALAS I CANNOT**

**Guest: Thank you so much! I'm so glad you liked the last chapter!**

**Love: Ugh God I'm sorry. Unfortunately this was as soon as possible, which is extremely crappy on my part.**

**Guest: I shall do more:)**

**Oliviab13: Haha! All in due time friend! Lovely ideas, regardless:D**

**potterfreak2: Well if you hate me, then that means that I'm doing my job. And I'm doing it ****_well_****. JK. Glad you like my work though! And thank you for the cake! And nope. No problems here.**


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Pitch Perfect, Drama, Romance