So, I was visiting The Slap (yeah, I know, I have no life) and stumbled across a post from Beck about socks, or a lack thereof, and this little thing came to be. So, yeah... Disclaimer: I don't own Victorious.

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Something was wrong with Beck's relationship. Very, horribly, terribly wrong. What was so wrong, you ask? Well, my dear friend, I'll tell you. His girlfriend was a thief. A no good, low down thief. And her victim of choice? Him.

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Beck first discovered this the morning after she had first spent the night at his RV, about six months into their relationship. He had just woken up and the first thing he saw was her, standing in front of his mirror, expertly reapplying her mascara, and dressed in only his flannel shirt.

He smirked and said, "That looks much better on you."

She turned to send an eye roll at him, before she resumed fixing her (admittedly exorbitant amount) of eye makeup. But he caught the tiny smile that had graced her beautiful lips before it was replaced by the little 'o' that girls make with their mouths when applying eye makeup. And that smile was what kept him oblivious for the next several hours, so oblivious that he didn't even notice the fact that his shirt had left with her.

It was only brought to his attention when he was forced to clean up his room because, as his mother said, "Something could be living under all that mess and could come out in the middle of the night and cut that hair of yours."

He thought that was more of a threat to his hair than a warning, and he made a note to remember to keep away from any and all scissors (ironic, seeing as Jade's weapon of choice was scissors). So, since he was a good son, he started to clean his RV. And when he got to the pile of clothes that had accumulated in a corner, he could have sworn he had a flannel shirt on the top because he had just worn it and-

That was about when he remembered who that shirt had been on earlier that morning and it took a little while for him to get past that one image of his girlfriend, but when he did, he realized she had left with it. But, it didn't bother him, because, well, it really looked much better on her.

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The first time her thievery really became an issue was when they were watching TV in the small hours of the morning. He was propped up against the wall and she was reclining against his chest and he was blissfully aware of the fact that she had laced her fingers with his. But then Full House switched off and Jaws came on.

He figured that he had leaned on the remote the wrong way and reached to grab it and correct the heinous mistake, but, alas, it 'twas not there. And, it wasn't squished between the mattress and the wall, nor was it under his butt.

Jade had quickly moved herself from his chest when he started frantically searching for the remote and he was about to ask her if she had seen it, when the object in her hand made him freeze. How could she have grabbed it without him noticing? He was acutely aware of his remote, even in his sleep (the bat he used that one time had taught his father to never sneak into his son's RV to watch the football game, no matter what his wife happened to have on the television), but Jade had managed to swipe it and switched channels.

What.

The.

Fuck?

It was the first time he had taken any issue with her stealy tendencies, but it was also the first time that he realized that he was far to enthralled with her. He hadn't even noticed. Something was inherently wrong with that. Her voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Are you going to keep your mouth open like that or…?"

He sputtered, "You…my…Jaws…?"

Jade smirked and said, "You weren't paying any attention to whatever DJ and Steph were doing, so I changed it. You didn't put up much of a fight when I grabbed the remote, by the way."

With that, she turned her attention back to whomever was being ripped apart and he's left staring at her, struggling with himself about whether he should tackle her for the remote or tackle her for other reasons.

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As their relationship grew, so did her little, ah, habit. She went on to steal the cookie from his Subway lunch and 'borrow' almost seven of his shirts. She filched some notebook paper, a pencil from his bag, the combination for his locker (not the safest choice, seeing as she'd leave some surprises when they were arguing, i.e. a well detailed note on just how she was going to castrate him and what she was going to do with the, er, goods. He still winces in memory).

All in all, it was relatively innocuous things, ones that he didn't mind really. That is, until she stole the lock from his door. Well, really, she didn't steal it, so much as destroy it with her foot. But, it was still gone and it was because of the girlfriend that he maybekindof loved. No, correction, he really loved her, because if any other girl had tried half of the things that she had, he'd have let them down easy, but they'd still be ex-girlfriends.

He had slowly gotten used to losing a shirt here or there or having his favorite hat 'disappear'. Actually, he almost liked it (okay, really liked it) because it meant that she'd be sticking around for a while, that she thought he was worth her time.

But the lock, his lock, it was supposed to keep people out of his RV and while he didn't want to keep her out (he gave her a key!), he didn't particularly want to worry about masked murderers sneaking into his home and slicing and dicing him in his sleep. She claimed that she thought that he had a girl in there ("It's a web show, babe. A web show"), but he thought that she just found the lock a hindrance when she wanted to see him.

He bought a new lock. She used lock cutters this time and promised that if anyone was going to slice and dice him, it'd be her.

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Everything was great for them, they had just gotten back together and he'd just convinced her for the hundredth time that day that he loved her and no one else, and he couldn't be happier. That is, until he found that he had only three pairs of socks in his drawer when he could have sworn that there were, like, seventy a week prior.

He posted on The Slap that he's going to have to go shopping for some new socks soon, and he didn't think about it again until she kicks off her boots after school. He glanced down and noticed them. The socks were purple, a pair he distinctly remembered getting from his grandmother for his, like, ninth birthday, and they were currently being worn by his girlfriend.

She had swiped his socks. That meant she had gone through his drawers. That meant she may or may not have the Taylor Swift CD he kept hidden at the bottom of his top drawer. But, the more important issue was that his socks had apparently found a new home.

"Babe?" Jade looked up at him and smirked.

Asked, "What?"

"Um…my socks?" She glanced down at her purple clad feet and wiggled her toes through them.

"Oh, that. Yeah, I steal socks."

She said this as a statement, as if it was completely normal for a girl to steal her boyfriend's socks and wear them around.

"You have a problem with it?"

Her tone was teasing and dangerous at the same time, and he knew that at that moment, he had never been more infuriated with her in his life, nor had he ever been more in love.

So, instead of trying to fight for the right to his socks (he knew that resistance was futile), he flopped down next to her and pressed a kiss to her cheek and asked, "Can you leave me at least seven pairs?"

"Consider yourself lucky that you have any left at all." He smiled into her hair.

The smile was almost immediately killed by her saying, "So, are you feeling fearless?"

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It was years after that moment, when he was standing in a tux, up at the altar, resisting the urge to pass out, that she stole one more, very important thing. His breath.

She glided down the aisle, wearing the white dress that her mother had argued for and holding the bouquet of black roses that she had argued for, her hair down in loose curls, devoid of any and all colored streaks (he always had loved her natural hair more), and he could literally not breathe for a few moments.

She was about to officially become Mrs. Jade Oliver (alright, Mrs. Jade West-Oliver, but he wasn't thinking too much about that, he was just flipping out over the fact that she wanted to marry him at all). She made it to him and smirked at his dazed look before turning to face the pastor. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…"

Later that night, when they're lying in their bed, he could swear that he heard her humming Taylor Swift under her breath, thereby stealing what was left of his pride. But he didn't mind, because he had a lifetime to get back at her for it.

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So, my dear reader, Mr. Beckham Oliver was a victim of thievery, the perpetrator being his dear then-girlfriend, now-wife, and the most important item missing? His heart, which she had successfully stolen the moment she let him kiss her without punching him in retaliation, way back in the summer that they were fourteen.

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So, um, yeah. ...Review please!