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the one with the girl next door

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“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Beca doesn’t know how she thought getting an apartment on the sixth floor with no elevator ever seemed like a good idea.

She stops at the top of the staircase once she reaches the third floor landing, setting her box down and bracing her hands against her knees as she fights to catch her breath.

“You should really get into cardio, Mitchell,” Stacie breezes past her, putting Beca to utter shame because not even is she a little bit wheezy, she continues on towards the fourth floor without taking a break.

“Shut up, Conrad,” Beca snaps, eventually following her up once she doesn’t feel like she’s going to puke her lungs anymore.

“I’m serious! One, you’ll feel better over all and two, most importantly, you’ll last longer in bed,” Stacie continues, adjusting the box in her arms as they finally reach Beca’s floor. “Not that it matters anyway, you haven’t had sex in what, a year and a half?”

“Dude, seriously,” Beca hisses as they reach number 60, the tip of her ears pinking up in embarrassment when she realizes they’re not alone. Her eyes flick to the woman standing across the hall. She’s fiddling with the lock of her door, balancing a brown paper bag of groceries in her free arm as she turns the key. She’s clad in tight running leggings and an oversized sweater that hangs off one shoulder, her red hair swept back in a ponytail with a few runaway strands framing her face.

Her gaze meets Beca’s once she’s ducked inside and before she shuts the door behind her, lips curled in a soft smile. Beca thinks she’s never seen eyes so bright before.

“Yo. Earth to Mitchell,” Stacie snaps her fingers in front of Beca’s face, effectively drawing Beca out of her daze. “You’re gonna open the door or what? Your shit’s heavy.”

Beca blinks, hurrying to set her own box down and fish out her key. She shakes her frozen thoughts back to life. “Yeah, uh yes, sorry.”

“Look at you,” Stacie drawls out, and Beca doesn’t have to look at her to know there’s that trademark shit-eating grin taking most of her face. “All smitten with your new, hot neighbor already,” she catches Stacie’s eyebrow waggle when she casts a glare her way. “Score, by the way.”

Beca grumbles under her breath, pushing her door open. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Over the next few days, Beca sees her neighbor on several occasions when they happen to get their mail at the same time or cross paths in the hallway.

Their always greet each other with a smile -- a bright one from the redhead, all pearly white and perfectly aligned teeth while Beca’s is tight-lipped and awkward, lasting only a second until her eyes fleet away from those vibrant blues, blush tinting her cheeks -- but other than that, stick to their side of the hallway.

Beca realizes one night as she’s leaving her own apartment and the redhead happens to come home, that she has a dog.

A hoppy, full of energy yellow golden retriever that greets her at the door with his tongue lolling out, acting as though he hasn’t seen her in months.

“Hi handsome!” Beca's neighbor gushes with a voice that’s just as bright as her eyes and, Beca guesses, her personality. The dog’s tail waggles harder as she bends down to pet him, and Beca catches a glimpse of her grin, big and happy and breathtaking. “Did you miss me?!”

Beca is mildly concerned to find herself jealous of a dog , of all things.

/

There’s a knock at Beca’s door on a late evening a few days later. The rain outside steadily drumming against the window and the lyrics pouring in the one headphone covering her ear as she works on a song almost drown it out. Frowning, Beca pushes to her feet, crossing the room and glancing into the peephole.

She slides the chain off and opens her door, leaning against it and raising an eyebrow. “Hello.”

“Hi,” her neighbor casts her a wave and a small smile in return. She has glasses on, a Columbia sweater that’s a size too big for her and yoga pants, her hair sitting atop her head in a messy bun. There’s a streak of what looks like flour -- well, Beca hopes it’s flour and not like, cocaine -- across her cheek.

“You know it’s past midnight, right?” Beca doesn’t mean to sound rude, but still. She could have been sleeping.

The redhead winces. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t wake you up, did I? I knocked softly just in case.”

“Nah, I was working, no sweat,” she falls silent, waiting for her neighbor to explain why she’s here.

“Oh, right! Sorry. Do you happen to have any baking soda? I’m making a cake and I just realized I didn’t have any,” she grimaces. “I really don’t wanna go out under the pouring rain.”

Beca’s mouth tilts in a lopsided smile. “You’re baking a cake at one am?”

The girl shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep. I usually bake when I can’t sleep.”

Beca snickers. “Right, okay. Let me check,” She shuffles to the kitchen and opens the cupboard in which she keeps her baking soda. One eyebrow shoots up in surprise when she makes her way back to the living room with the box in hand and finds that Chloe invited herself in.

“Cute place,” she muses aloud, hands buried in her hoodie front pocket.

Beca’s shoulder rises in a half-shrug. Her walls are plain and her furniture consists of a couch, a coffee table and a small dining table, which came with the apartment. Boxes that have yet to be unpacked are tucked in one corner. A few dirty mugs sit on the coffee table along with crumpled pieces of paper covered with lyrics that Beca wrestled out of her brain before ultimately deciding they were crap. “Eh, I still need to unpack most of my stuff. I moved in just a couple weeks ago.”

“I know,” Chloe murmurs, spinning around to face Beca once she’s stepped into the hall. “I remember seeing you with your friend, carrying boxes.”

“Oh, right.” Beca flushes, hoping Chloe didn’t catch Stacie’s comment about Beca not having had sex in the last year and a half.

“Besides, it’d be hard not to notice someone like you moving across the hall,” Beca wants to ask what she means by that, but then Chloe’s eyes light up as she spots the box of baking soda in her hand. “Oooh, you have some! You’re a lifesaver. Thank you.”

Beca hands the baking soda over, clearing her throat. “No problem.”

“I’m Chloe, by the way,” she says, flashing Beca a megawatt smile as she takes it. “Chloe Beale.”

“Beca,” Beca replies with an awkward salute. A salute? Jesus, learn to interact like a normal person, Mitchell.

“I don’t get a last name?” Chloe quips, eyebrow arched.

Beca returns the raised eyebrow. “You could be a serial killer for all I know.”

That makes Chloe laugh. “I live across the hall .”

Okay yeah, Beca didn’t think about that, but recovers quickly from her slight embarrassment.  “That’s the answer you go for when someone suggests you might be a serial killer?”

Chloe simply smirks, shaking her head. “Thanks again, Beca. Have a good night.” She winks, then disappears into her own apartment, leaving Beca both confused and flustered on her doormat.

She locks up and flops onto her couch, grabbing her phone off the coffee table.

Beca (1:23a)

soooooo, pretty sure my neighbor just flirted with me? 

 

Stacie (1:23a)

Did she really flirt or are you just fantasizing she did? 

 

Beca (1:25a)

Asshole. She came by to ask me for baking soda for a cake she was making (that’s kind of a classic, right?) and then said something about how hard it’d be not to notice someone like me when i told her I had just moved in. 

 

Stacie (1:25a)

Damn. Ginger isn’t beating around. She’s got the hots for you.

The written confirmation of what Beca was suspecting makes her belly flutter and her heart thump harder. She berates herself for feeling giddy over some flirting that might lead to nowhere, especially once Chloe realizes how awkward and lame she actually is.

/

As if Beca needed more convincing to crush on her neighbor, she finds out that Chloe is super athletic.

(Beca didn’t know that was a thing she found attractive until she bumps into Chloe in a sports bra.)

She’s on her way to work the following Thursday when she sees the pretty redhead and her dog on the landing between the third and fourth floor.

“Oh, hey! Long time no see, neighbor,” Chloe greets with one of those bright grins, and it takes everything inside Beca not to let her eyes drop to Chloe’s abs. Her cheeks are a little bit flushed and her upper chest and neck are glistening with sweat. Beca concludes she's one of those crazy people who regularly exercise (and like it).

“Well, you haven’t bothered me for more cake ingredients this week,” Beca deadpans, lips curling in a smirk to show she’s only teasing.

Chloe hums, amusement tickling the corners of her mouth. “I’ll bring it back tonight, if you’re in?”

Beca waves it off. “Nah it’s all good, you can keep it.”

Chloe presses her lips together, eyebrows knitting in an adorable frown. “You’re making it really hard for me to flirt with you, you know that?”

“What?” Beca’s brain feels like it skipped a step going down the stairs. She mentally catches herself on the railing, mouth opening in realization. “Oh.”

Chloe’s teeth rake on her bottom lip, her grin morphing into a coy smile. “You like red wine?”

Holy shit, did it suddenly get really hot in here? Swallowing thickly, Beca nods. “Yeah, yep. Red wine’s good.”

Chloe grins lopsided. “Awesome. Come to my place tonight.”

She’s probably out of earshot by the time Beca’s brain reboots and Beca is able to ask for clarification. Is it a date? A welcome to the building kinda thing? She has no fuckling clue. Once she gets home from work, she changes into black skinny jeans, a dark grey camisole and a red plaid shirt; an outfit that could fit both occasions. She has no idea at what time she should go over to Chloe’s, which is kind of nerve wracking.

She decides that 6.30 is an appropriate time and slips on a pair of boots, panicking for a second in front of her door when she realizes she has nothing to bring. She knows her fridge is empty because she’s been living on take-out for the last ten days and she isn’t going to run out now to get something.

She strides across the hall before she changes her mind and knocks on the door, wiping her sweaty palms on her denim-clad thighs.

The door opens a handful of seconds later. “Hey there.”

Chloe is standing on the other side wearing a yellow knit sweater, black pants and white sneakers, her beautiful and vibrant copper hair done in light waves resting over her shoulders. Her lips are a bright shade of red, her piercing blue eyes enhanced by a tad of mascara.

“Um, hi,” Beca says, offering an awkward wave as she steps inside. A delicious smell carrying from the kitchen reaches her nostrils, sparking the dormant nerves in Beca’s stomach back to life. Okay, maybe it's a date. Chloe’s yellow fluffy dog trots over to greet her the second her hears her voice and sits in front of her, his tongue lolling out. “Oh, what’s up, dog.”

A giggle catches her attention. “His name’s Winston Churchill. But you can call him Winnie.”

Beca chuckles. Who calls their dog Winston Churchill? She’s gotta admit though, it’s kind of adorable. “Hi, Winnie,” she greets, patting him on the head a couple times.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Chloe says, gesturing in a general manner towards her living room. Beca nods and shuffles to the couch, sinking down on the leather surface while she takes in her surroundings. Chloe’s place is a typical Brooklyn apartment with hardwood floors, brick walls, and factory windows. Pops of color are scattered around the space: art pieces, carpets, cushions and various potted plants. A spiral staircase stands in the corner, leading to a mezzanine which, Beca guesses, is Chloe’s bedroom. Almost (Sweet Music) by Hozier is playing from a speaker set on the bookshelf, bathing the room in a cozy atmosphere.

 Beca does instantly feel comfortable.

Chloe waltzes back into the living room carrying two wine glasses in one hand and a bottle in the other. She uncorks it and pours some red wine in both glasses, handing one to Beca.

“Thanks.”

Chloe settles down next to her, one leg tucked under her and clinks her glass gently against Beca’s, blue eyes sparkling. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Beca takes a sip, humming in delight as its fruitiness coats her tongue and lingers in her throat. She turns the bottle towards her, reading off the label. “Argentinian wine?”

“Yeah, I brought it back from a trip over there.”

“You went to Argentina? On vacation?”

“Mm.” Chloe shakes her head, taking a sip before replying. “I’m a photographer for National Geographic . My team and I went on a ten-day shoot for a series on the Patagonian gauchos last month.”

Beca’s other eyebrow shoots up. She doesn't know what she expected, but certainly not that. “Wow. You must travel a lot for work, then?”

Chloe shrugs, resting the foot of her glass on her thigh. “A fair amount. Mostly North and South America.”

“That’s really cool.” Beca looks around the room once more, now taking note of the framed black and white pictures lining the walls. “Did you take those?”

Chloe chuckles. “Yeah. I’m that kind of asshole who puts up her own work in her home.”

“I mean…” Beca shrugs. “You shoot what your mind is attracted to, right? Makes sense that you like your own art.”

“Mmm. True.” Chloe’s eyes slide back up to meet hers, and Beca experiences shortness of breath every time they lock onto hers. “What about you? What do you do?”

Beca puffs out a snicker, gaze falling to her glass as she swirls her wine around. “Depends, am I being brave or practical?” She sighs, pursing her lips together for a beat. “I’m a bartender.”

“I’m guessing that’s you being practical?” Chloe edges, cocking an eyebrow.

Beca nods slowly. “I, uh, my passion is music. I write songs, or at least I try to, and my dream is to become an actual musician. But gigs are hard to score in NYC, so… haven’t gotten my big break yet.”

“You’re a songwriter? That’s amazing !” Chloe’s eyes seem to light up even more, which Beca doubted was even physically possible. “I hope you make it one day. I truly believe that when you’re made for something, it eventually finds you.”

Beca lets out a decompressing chuckle. “Fingers crossed.” She clears her throat, nibbling on her bottom lip for a moment. “So uh, is that like, something you often do? Invite the neighbor who just moved in for dinner?”

“Yeah, all the time,” Beca can’t explain the pang of disappointment in her chest at that, but then Chloe giggles and takes a sip of her wine. “I’m kidding. Only those I find really cute,” she winks. “Which would make you the first one.”

Beca feels the top of her cheeks burn and she is only able to hold eye-contact for so long before the risk of combusting turns into an actual concern. “Oh um, okay. I gotta admit, I wasn’t sure if this was a date or not.”

Chloe nods. “I had gathered.” Her genuine smile smoothes away some of Beca’s nerves. “Are you comfortable with that?”

The question both surprises and reassures Beca. She nods, mustering a small, albeit awkward smile before taking a sip of wine. Chloe returns it, then excuses herself to check on the food and comes back a few minutes later with a platter of cheese, crackers and various types of chutneys.

Over the next hour, Beca learns a bunch of fun facts about Chloe who, Beca quickly finds out, loves to share about her job. Unlike most guys Beca has been on dates with, she doesn’t brag or sound self-righteous. She’s an amazing story teller and Beca finds herself enraptured by the different tales of her adventures as a photographer.

Soon, a second bottle of wine is polished off along with the salmon risotto Chloe made, and Beca feels the buzz creep up on her as she finishes her fourth glass. Chloe has drifted much closer now -- or was it Beca? Hard to tell with the natural magnetism going on between them, Beca couldn’t help but notice over the course of the evening. Only a sliver of distance separates them, Beca’s arm lying along the back of her couch as they both sit criss crossed legged facing each other playing a fun game of twenty questions.

“What?” Chloe breathes upon a comfortable lull in conversation. Beca blinks, flushing when she realizes she’s been staring, attempting to count all the shades of blue dotted in the ocean of Chloe’s eyes.

She decides to be honest and tell Chloe what she’s been thinking ever since she first saw her. “Your eyes are unreal ,” she murmurs. “Like… I keep losing myself into them.” She pulls a face when her words echo back to her, letting out a snort. “Jesus. I think I should lay off the alcohol, I’m turning sappy.”

Leaning forward, she sets her glass down and clears her throat, wetting her suddenly dry lips with a flick of the tongue. She catches Chloe’s eyes flicker down to her mouth and feels a chill slowly crawl down her spine, blushing from the intensity of Chloe’s gaze as it slides up to meet hers, framed in pitch-dark lashes.

Chloe leans in slowly, pausing deliberately to give Beca time to back away if she wishes. Then, Chloe’s lips are on hers in a bare, teasing brush before the distance is completely crushed in a slow, deep kiss. A whimper of delight leaves Beca’s throat as she sinks into the liplock, exhaling a sigh of contentment through her nose as she kisses back. Chloe’s kiss is steeped in a passion that ignites a fire in the pit of Beca’s stomach, and she doesn’t know what to do with her hands for an extra second, eventually deciding to rest one on Chloe’s thigh while the other cups her cheek. Her tongue skims over the seam of Chloe’s bottom lip as their kisses grow deeper, a moan reverberating between them as she tastes the sweet flavor of wine coating Chloe’s tongue.

She’s not exactly sure how long they kiss for, if it lasts a few minutes or fifteen, with sporadic breaks here and there to chase some much-needed air. Beca somehow finds herself on her back, Chloe’s warm and comforting weight on top of her as they stare at each other, kiss-swollen lips parted to suck some oxygen back into their lungs.

When she woke up this morning, Beca was far from thinking she would be heavily making out with the hot girl next door by the end of the day, but she’s certainly not complaining.

A movement in the corner of her eye catches Beca’s attention and a snicker falls from her lips. “Your dog is watching us. Judging me, probably.”

Chloe glances over her shoulder, laughing at the sight of Winnie sitting on the other side of the coffee table and staring at them with his head tilted to the side.

She casts Beca a smirk, licking her lips. “You wanna go upstairs?”

Beca’s nerves spark back to life, but they’re quickly drowned by the wave of desire washing over her. She nods, Chloe grinning in response as she links their fingers and leads her up the spiral staircase. Chloe’s lips are back on hers the second they make it to the top, pushing and pulling against hers in a dizzying, flawless dance. Beca responds with equal fervor, steadying herself by bracing her hands on Chloe’s hips.

“Off,” The command leaving Chloe’s lips sends a thrill rush down Beca’s spine and she tugs her open plaid shirt off her shoulders, her fingers curling around the hem of Chloe’s sweater the following second to do the same. It turns out Chloe is not wearing a shirt under her sweater but only a blue lace bra, which shade matches the color of her eyes and Beca forgets how to breathe for a second or two because Chloe might be the most gorgeous woman she has even seen. Beca whips her camisole over her head in the next beat, letting the garment drop to the floor and watching as Chloe’s eyes darken as they rove over her chest and stomach. Never really used to being the center of attention, Beca feels the blush rise in her chest and neck until Chloe’s eyes flick back up to meet hers, resting there for a mere second before they’re back on Beca’s lips.

Somewhere into the kiss, Beca is backed up towards the bed and sits down on it, letting out a sound of appreciation when Chloe smoothly straddles her lap without breaking their connection. Chloe tilts her head, her tongue flicking over the seam of Beca’s lips to seek out hers. Beca’s fingers flex at Chloe’s waist, burning to explore that skin that’s on display just for her.

Warm and smooth and delicate, she’s sure.

“You can touch me, y’know,” Chloe of course reads her mind, pulling away just enough to meet her eye. There’s a hint of amusement in her own, with a dash of softness that settles Beca’s derailing heartbeat.

“Sorry, yeah.”

“You’re nervous,” It’s stated as a fact, not a question. Leave it to a near stranger to see right through her when Beca prides herself in usually hiding her emotions pretty well.

There’s something about Chloe though, how she seems to read Beca perfectly that is both terrifying and comforting.

“Little bit,” Beca admits, because there’s no point in lying. “It’s been a little while since I...”

Chloe hums, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind Beca’s ear. “That’s okay. We have all night.”

Beca can’t quite wrap her head around how this woman is so hot yet so soft and that she’s currently straddling her lap. She nods, tongue darting out to lick the part in her lips before she leans forward to capture Chloe’s. As they kiss, Beca follows Chloe’s suggestion and feathers her fingertips up her spine first, one hand rounding up to settle on Chloe’s ribs. She doesn’t expect Chloe to laugh against her lips and pulls back, inquisitiveness flashing in her eyes.

“My ribs are ticklish,” Chloe lets her know, moving said hand farther up until Beca’s palm curls around her breast. “There, better.”

Beca chuckles, fighting with the heat rising in her chest. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

“What’s the point? When I’m sure of something, I just go for it,” Chloe’s low and sultry tone rolls down Beca’s spine in the form of another shiver. “And I’m positive I want you to touch me.”

Beca gulps, knowing Chloe doesn’t imply just her breast. “Cool,” her voice squeaks like one of those cartoon characters and Beca feels her face catch on fire, but she’s lost count of how many times she’s blushed by now to actually care. Besides, it looks like Chloe finds it endearing, if the small smile that curves her lips each time is any indication.

She remembers she’s had her hand on Chloe’s breast for more than three seconds now without doing anything about it, and claims Chloe’s lips once more, giving the mound a knead in time with her tongue flicking over Chloe’s bottom lip. She’s rewarded with a moan that makes her head spin from how raw and completely unbridled it sounds.

Foreign confidence trickles down her veins and she brushes Chloe’s covered nipple, reveling in how it seems to instantly pebble under the pad of her thumb. Chloe’s own hands do their fair share of exploring, though they stick to Beca’s back for now, trailing up and down her spine or sinking into her hair as they kiss.

Following a minute of ministrations to Chloe’s breasts, Beca feels bold enough to reach around Chloe to undo her clasp, backing away to let it slide down Chloe’s arms and tossing it to the growing pile of garments on the floor. 

Beca unconsciously licks her lips and inches forward, brushing soft kisses to the hills of Chloe’s breasts while her hands drift down to settle on her ass, unable to resist squeezing both cheeks. Chloe’s fingers thread through her brown strands and a whimper flits through her lips when Beca’s tongue swirls around one hard nipple. She arches into the touch, one of Beca’s arm snaking around her waist to make sure she doesn’t topple back as her lips wrap around the bud and give it a suckle that makes Chloe’s hold on her hair tighten.

“Fuck,” Chloe croaks as Beca kisses her way across the expense of skin between Chloe’s breasts to play with her other nipple. Her free hand slides up Chloe’s side and she rubs the one she abandoned between her thumb and forefinger, breaking away to gasp when Chloe rolls her hips against hers.

“Shit,” she puffs out, only now realizing how aroused she is.

“You okay?” Chloe breathes, the sight of her blown pupils and kiss swollen lips making Beca’s blood burn with desire.

“Mm,” she hums, pushing her parted lips against Chloe’s in a breathy kiss to mark her words.

“Lie down,” Chloe whispers across her mouth and Beca can only oblige, scooting further up so she’s laying in the middle of the bed as opposed to by the edge with her legs dangling off the foot. She tosses her bra off on the way, inhaling sharply when Chloe moves on top of her, stomach clenching in anticipation. Chloe’s lips are on hers for just a few seconds before they skip along the edge of her jaw and down the side of her neck in hot, open-mouthed kisses. She sucks, nips and licks Beca’s pulsepoint, most definitely leaving a bruise in the process, but Beca can’t complain about the extra two minutes she’ll need to cover this up when she meets Stacie tomorrow because being marked by Chloe is really, really hot.

A jolt of electricity travels through Beca’s body as Chloe moves lower and swirls her tongue over Beca’s stiffening nipple, lightly grazing it with her teeth.

“Jesus ,” Beca gasps, her back arching off the mattress as she seeks more.

“It’s Chloe,” she feels Chloe’s smirk on her skin and wants to call out her smugness, but her voice is drowned by a moan when Chloe’s warm and wet mouth closes around the pebbled bud. Beca is certain her arousal has seeped through the denim of her pants by now, and she can’t help but squirm a little under Chloe as the throb between her legs makes itself more insistent. The motion doesn’t seem to go unnoticed by Chloe who doesn’t linger on Beca’s breasts, instead trailing further down the length of Beca’s body. Her hand pauses on the buttons of Beca’s jeans, glancing up and silently asking for permission, which Beca grants without a beat of hesitation.

She lifts her hips so Chloe can drag Beca’s last articles of clothing down her legs. Beca expects her to crawl back up and use her fingers, but Chloe settles on her stomach between Beca’s legs instead, and all the air rushes out of Beca’s lungs at the sight. She starts by peppering slow kisses along the inside of Beca’s thigh, hooking it over her shoulder.

“This okay?” Chloe asks, eyes bright and soft, Beca’s head bobbing up and down in a frantic nod. She props herself up because there’s no way she’s missing a second of this, her elbows nearly bucking at the first broad lap of Chloe’s tongue over her.

It gets very clear Chloe has done this before. Her tongue doesn’t bulldoze in and out of Beca’s vagina like Beca’s previous boyfriends, instead slowly working her up as though Chloe wants to draw out her pleasure as much as she can. She explores Beca’s folds in patient flicks and licks, alternating in depth and occasionally teasing Beca’s swollen clit.

Beca has never been extremely vocal when it comes to sex, but she starts to think it’s because her partners didn’t hold a candle to Chloe. The sounds leaving her mouth and booming against the walls of Chloe’s bedroom are foreign in rawness and intensity.

It’s not very long before she finds herself past the point of no return.

One of Beca’s hands grabs a fistful of the crumpled sheets underneath her while the other links her own fingers with Chloe’s, seeking anchor against the imminent powerful climax.

“M close,” she croaks out, resisting the urge to let her eyes flutter shut. Chloe groans in acknowledgement, the vibration coursing through Beca’s body in a zap of pleasure. Her lips soon wrap around Beca’s clit and Beca just about forgets her own name, Chloe’s bursting through her lips as she comes, body trembling under the force of her orgasm.

It’s a little while before Chloe comes into view, Beca’s head having dropped to bed as her elbows finally gave out under her quivering weight. Her chin and mouth are glistening with Beca’s essence and Beca can taste herself on Chloe’s lips when she cranes her head to kiss her thoroughly.

“Hot damn, Beale,” Beca breathes out through a chuckle, blinking dazedly up at her neighbor. Chloe only giggles, settling down next to Beca. Her finger lazily trailing up and down Beca’s side added to the post-climax chemicals steeping in Beca’s limbs steadily lull her to a light slumber. She catches herself, eager to return the favor.

When she does, using her own tongue to pleasure Chloe, it turns out to be just as hot as being on the receiving end. She might not be as experienced as Chloe, but the sounds she draws from Chloe’s mouth and the way her fingers fist into her dark hair tell her she’s not too bad at this.

Beca doesn’t question if she should go back to her place afterwards, especially not when Chloe snuggles into her side and reaches for the sheets to cover them both. She wakes the next morning hazy eyed, a little bit disoriented as to where she is. There’s an unfamiliar soreness to her body, abs burning as her back arches in a lazy morning stretch. Chloe is already up, and Beca knows she shouldn’t linger too much, but she can’t help burrowing herself deeper in the comfy sheets, deeper in the cocoon of Chloe’s scent -- flowery, like jasmine, and something that’s just Chloe that Beca can’t find a description for.

A sweet, warm voice carries up from the kitchen. Florence + The Machine, Beca recognizes after a few seconds. It blends with the sizzling of the bacon in the pan and the noise of coffee finishing up brewing. The earthy aroma traveling through the apartment and her growling stomach soon lure Beca out of Chloe’s bed. She throws on her camisole, noting Chloe’s laid a fresh pair of cotton underwear out for her and slipping them on. Padding down the spiral staircase, Beca pauses when it doesn’t seem like Chloe’s noticed her yet, leaning against the kitchen wall with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Nice moves,” she calls out after a little while, inhaling sharply when Chloe looks over her shoulder and winks. Yup, she’s a goner. “Nice shirt, too.”

Chloe has the decency to appear sheepish, glancing down at Beca’s plaid shirt covering her upper half. She’s not wearing anything but lacy underwear down below, and Beca finds it hard not to gaze down at her perfect butt.

“It’s comfy. I might not give it back,” Chloe lets her know in a teasing manner, handing Beca a mug filled with coffee.

“Mm, you’ve read my mind,” Beca praises as she accepts it with a grateful smile. She wraps her fingers around it, enjoying the heat that spreads to her hands. Perching herself on a stool, Beca cradles her chin in her propped up hand. She doesn’t really know what to say or do, but there’s this sleepy smile stuck to her lips. 

“What?” Beca realizes Chloe’s been looking at her this whole time, amusement tickling the corners of her own lips.

Beca shrugs, clearing her throat. “I was just thinking about last night.”

“Mmm,” Chloe grins, leaning back against the counter as she cradles her own mug. “So when are you inviting me over?”

She goes straight to the point, and Beca loves that, even if it almost makes her sip of coffee go down the wrong lane out of surprise.

Chloe comes over that very same night, Beca attempting to whip up an acceptable dinner. She sleeps over, and Beca joins her on Winnie’s morning walk, sharing a breakfast bagel from one of those street carts with her.

Beca doesn’t exactly know what they are, but she’s pretty sure it’s the start of something great.

Maybe moving to an apartment on the sixth floor was a good idea, after all.