A/N: I decided to toy around with the little-siblings-are-best-friends AU and this happened. Enjoy.

Damn my parents, Beca thinks. Damn my parents to hell.

"Mom tells me that if you keep making those faces, your face will freeze like that," Jesse says, tugging insistently on her hand. "Then, you'll be ugly forever."

Beca grits her teeth together and clenches her fist to keep from smacking her little brother over the head. "Well, you've seemed to manage just fine the first seven years of your life. I think I'll be fine." She brushes her hair out of her face and huffs out a breath.

Beca Mitchell is 16 years old. She should be out partying with friends over summer vacation like a normal teenager, but she's never been all that normal. Or had a lot of friends. Her parents bestowed upon her the responsibility of looking after her bratty brother Jesse. He wanted to visit his friend that Beca hadn't bothered to learn the name of and Beca had to walk him to said friend's house due to the fact that their parents had taken the car for a romantic road trip for two.

"Come on, Beca!" Jesse hops and tugs on her hand again, nearly throwing off her balance.

"Slow down, Jesse!"

"But we're almost there! Aubrey's been waiting for a million years!"

"Well, then I'm sure she can wait a few more minutes," Beca grumbles. "Do you even know where we're going?" They had been walking for at least ten minutes and she didn't even know their destination.

"Yes! It's down the road onto the next block, two lefts, and then a right! Come on!"

Beca raises an eyebrow. "Someone's eager," she remarks. "Do you have a crush on this girl or something?"

Jesse goes red in the face. "No! Shut up about it!"

"Alright, alright, you weirdo." She shuts up but not without a smirk.

It takes another good fifteen minutes before they actually reach their destination. Aubrey's house is a baby blue color with tall sunflowers in the front yard and a classic white picket fence. It's all very picturesque and it's almost enough to disgust Beca. She grimaces as they climb the front steps, Jesse running ahead of her and ringing the doorbell about a million times.

Beca stops dead in her tracks when the door opens.

A redhead with blue eyes brighter than the color of the house stands in the doorway, her smile unfailingly brilliant. "Hi!" she says cheerfully. "You must be Jesse! I'm Chloe, Aubrey's older sister." She sticks her hand out for Jesse to shake and Beca sees his faithful feelings for Aubrey falter for a moment. Eventually, he does come to his senses and shakes her hand. "Come on in! Aubrey's waiting for you in the kitchen."

"Thanks," Jesse says shortly before running past her into the house. He nearly trips in his haste and Beca hears a high-pitched voice greet him from somewhere inside.

Chloe turns to Beca. "Hi," she says, smiling again. "You must be Jesse's older sister." She holds her hand out again and Beca reluctantly steps forward to shake it. "It's nice to meet you."

"You, too," Beca says politely.

"And your name is?"

"Beca," she says, "Beca Mitchell."

Chloe nods. "Chloe Beale," she responds. She tilts her head to the side, resembling a confused puppy for a moment. "You… you go to South High, don't you? I've seen your face before."

Beca frowns. She thought that she'd remember a face like Chloe's. "I do," she confirms. "I didn't know you did, too."

"Yep! I'm a senior."

"Junior," Beca says. The silence quickly becomes awkward and Beca turns to leave. "I'll pick up Jesse in about two hours."

"Wait," Chloe says suddenly, "don't you want to stay?"

"I've got stuff to do." That was a lie. She didn't have any plans for all of summer, unless Fat Amy planned on dragging her off on one of her impromptu adventures that usually involved the cops in one way or another.

"Oh." Chloe looks disappointed and Beca feels unreasonably bad. Like she kicked Chloe's puppy or something. "I'll see you later, then."

"Yeah." Beca nods. "See you later."

The little twerps, as Beca likes to call them, have play dates every other day. Beca gets a fair amount of exercise walking Jesse to the Beale household. She even grows the slightest bit more tan due to the fact that Jesse likes to walk over at noon. Even worse, their parents scold Beca for not getting out of the house like her little brother. Beca offered to call Fat Amy up for another "wild night on the town" and that shut them up pretty quickly. They still like to make not-so-subtle hints that are easily ignored.

Every day is the same. Beca walks Jesse over, much faster than the first time. Chloe usually answers the door, but sometimes Aubrey does, with Jesse running inside as soon as he can. Beca always leaves with the same "I'll be back in [insert any number here] hours" before Chloe can invite her inside.

Beca honestly hadn't anticipated this, especially after brushing Chloe off so many times.

"Can I get your number?" Chloe asks quickly one day. "Just in case I need to call you about Jesse or something?"

Beca pulls her headphones down, Titanium playing for a few seconds before she pauses it. "If you need me for anything, Jesse can call me on his phone. He has my number. Why a seven year old needs an iPhone, I'll never know, but yeah." She shrugs and walks away.

Beca figures out later that either Chloe steals the number from Jesse's phone or Jesse gives Chloe her number because she gets a text from an unknown number an hour later that reads: titanium is my lady jam. that song really builds

Beca's knee jerks into her desk.

It can only be from one person.

She's surprised to find herself smiling at the text, even if she's a little grossed out and in pain.

So, Beca saves the contact to her phone. Just in case.

Summer is almost half over when Fat Amy demands that Beca get out of the house. She shows up at 7 PM with a handful of cash and her favorite denim jacket, washed and ready to be dirtied again. Beca opens the door, cringing at the faint sunlight still in the sky, scowling when Amy accuses her of being a vampire. Before Beca has the chance to refuse or come up with an excuse not to go, her parents shove her out the door with her jacket and a "Have fun, sweetie!"

She's getting really tired of their shit.

"Can I go home now?" Beca asks for the eighth time that night. They're at a carnival: a real carnival with a Ferris wheel, kiddie rides, dumb games with stuffed prizes, and loud music blasting from all directions at once. Little kids have nearly tripped her three times and she's watched at least five people throw up, from candy or alcohol, she doesn't know. The music gave her a pounding headache at least a half an hour ago.

"You're really putting a damper on this whole 'fun' thing, Mitchell," Fat Amy says around a mouthful of popcorn. "I think you're doing it wrong."

"I don't think I should be doing it at all," Beca grumbles.

"Oh, come on, Frodo," Amy whines, not-so-gently patting Beca on the back and dumping her popcorn in favor of her cotton candy, "lighten up. I know you're probably too short for most of the rides here, but there's gotta be something fun for you to do."

"Beca!" a shockingly familiar voice exclaims from behind them.

Beca turns and is met with the one and only Chloe Beale. She smiles crookedly, ignoring the suspicious stare that Fat Amy's directing at her. "Chloe, hi."

"That," Amy says, pointing conspicuously at Chloe. "That's something fun for you to do."

Beca nudges her sharply with her elbow and swats her hand away. "Shut up, Patricia."

"Hey!" Chloe runs up to Beca, grabs her hands, and drags her forward until their foreheads are almost touching. Beca bends back reflexively, but she can still feel Chloe's breath on her face. Contrary to what Beca suspects, there's no trace of alcohol in her scent. It's, in a way, a relief, though it worries Beca how this is sober behavior. "It's so great to see you! I didn't think you'd be here, to be honest."

"Neither did I," Beca says pointedly, giving Amy the side-eye. "I was coerced."

"Hey, you know how I feel about the big words, Shawshank," Amy says, stuffing another handful of cotton candy into her mouth. "You can't pull that shit on me when I'm on a sugar high."

"In addition to a regular high."

"That, too. Okay, I'll leave you two lovers to it." Fat Amy looks to Chloe. "Be sure to look after this one, will you?" she says, gesturing to Beca. Beca gives her a what the hell are you doing you're leaving me alone Beca Mitchell signature look. "She can't survive without isolation every two hours and make sure that she's properly fed. Her diet mainly consists of Red Bull and Girl Scout cookies—"

"Goodbye, Amy," Beca says, suddenly eager for her friend to be gone.

Chloe laughs. "Don't worry, Amy. I'll take good care of Beca." She smiles wickedly with an exaggerated wink to match.

"Use protection!" Amy shouts as she's dragged away by a guy Beca vaguely recognizes.

"Stay out of jail this time!" Beca yells back at her.

"Your friend's interesting," Chloe says, smiling.

Beca huffs out a laugh. "Interesting is a good word for Fat Amy."

"Come on." Chloe surprises Beca with a strong grip on her elbow. "Let's go have fun."

"So, are you having fun?"

It seems like a strange question when the answer is painfully obvious. Still, Beca decides to humor Chloe with an answer, anyway. "Not really."

"Well, I'm here," Chloe says simply, "so now you have to."

Beca raises an eyebrow. "Is that a rule—?"

"Yes."

Another laugh. Score 1 for Chloe Beale. She smiles proud to herself.

They've been walking around the carnival, hosted at the local shopping center, for twenty minutes. Chloe's been doing most of the talking and she's gotten a total of sixteen words out of Miss Beca Mitchell. It's not much, but Chloe calls it progress. Beca has walls with 'STAY OUT' written all over them, but Chloe's never been one to give up easily; she's undeterred and stubborn. If blowing those walls down with dynamite won't work, then she'll settle for a slow process of chipping away at stones, one by one.

"You don't have to keep me company, you know," Beca says, kicking at a pebble by her feet. "I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself."

"I think 'big' is kind of pushing it."

So, Beca pushes Chloe and the tension in the air is somewhat defused.

"I know that I don't have to keep you company," Chloe states, "but I want to. This carnival only comes around twice a year. What kind of person would I be if I let you go without having fun?"

"A good person," Beca says. "A good, decent person."

Chloe laughs. "I can't wait until you realize how much of a good person I'm not," she sighs.

She says this as though she's going to become some kind of constant in Beca's life. It's presumptuous and straightforward and there's a temptation for Beca to turn around and run. Something keeps her there and she would rather not think about what that something is.

"For some reason, I doubt that, but I'll take your word for it if you give me a ride home," Beca says before she can stop herself. She's never shied away from being outright rude to anyone before, but, as little as she knows about Chloe Beale, Beca knows that she's sensitive. "Not that I'm not having a good time or anything, but I should probably get home and stuff…"

Chloe side-eyes her, eyebrow raised skeptically. Thankfully, she seems more amused than offended. "I'll make you a deal," she offers. "You play a game with me and I'll give you a ride home."

Beca narrows her eyes in suspicion. "You swear?"

"Unless you wanna come home with me by the time the night's over." The redhead winks with a little shake of her hips and Beca's throat constricts. What is it with this girl and winking?

"Deal," she squeaks out.

Chloe vigorously shakes her hand and then they're at a booth adorned with about a thousand different stuffed animals. The pimply teenage boy running the booth looks startled when Chloe smacks a ten dollar bill into his hands and tosses a yellow plastic gun into Beca's fumbling arms. And the game is on.

The display before them is a series of various cups color coordinated into resembling a target. From what Beca can gather, the goal is to knock down the single gold cup in the very center. She watches Chloe take several shots, knocking over blue, green, and the occasional silver cups. The gold cup remains untouched.

"You suck at this," Beca comments bluntly. As much as she tries (which isn't very hard), she's unable to keep a smile off of her face.

Chloe gives an insulted scoff. "You think you can do better?" she challenges.

Beca raises her own gun to her eye. For all the bickering she and Jesse do, one thing that they can do together is play war games. She's kicked his butt in Call of Duty more times than she can count. Their father saw an opportunity and took them to a real shooting range. Their mother had objected, but she eventually caved. Beca had learned how to shoot a real gun; a plastic gun would be no problem.

One pull of the trigger and Beca's knocked over the golden cup in the center of the display. She celebrates with a little fist bump before she's nearly knocked to the ground by Chloe's hug.

Beca selects a dolphin with blue eyes that remind her of Chloe and bashfully offers it to the redhead. She politely declines a second hug; she has a different prize in mind.

True to her word, Chloe jingles her car keys and grabs Beca by the hand.

Chloe drives a bright purple Mustang and somehow, that doesn't surprise Beca at all.

("I almost went with yellow, but it would've clashed with my hair, you know?" Chloe informs her. "Like ketchup and mustard, only not so appetizing."

"Yeah," Beca says vaguely. Chloe has this effect on her, one that leaves her not knowing what to say as opposed to her simply choosing not to say anything.)

Beca feels small and awkward in the passenger seat. It feels as though it was designed for someone twice her size. She slides and squeaks on the damn leather interior every time she shifts even a little. One of those air fresheners, shaped like a strawberry, hangs on the rearview mirror. Beca watches it vibrate and shake with every bump of the road.

Chloe's a good driver. Beca's not really sure what she expected. Her erratic behavior made Beca suspect that she was an equally crazy driver. She's proven wrong and Chloe Beale continues to evade Beca Mitchell's understanding.

"I drive Aubrey to school," Chloe explains, as though reading Beca's mind. "Both of my parents go to work super early in the morning, so I've been driving Aubrey to school since I got my license."

Again, Beca's left not knowing what to say. "That's nice." She wants to punch herself as soon as the words make their way out of their mouth. It's cringe worthy at best. The whole 'socializing' thing has never been Beca's strength in life.

To her credit, Chloe tactfully ignores Beca's awkwardness. "I just realized that I don't know where you live," she says. "You've been walking Jesse over to my place every day and I don't even know your address."

"It's just around the corner," Beca says. "Third house on the right. The one with the annoying little plastic flamingo in the front yard."

Chloe's laugh rings through the air. "The one without a beak?" At Beca's nod, she laughs again. "I know that house! I've driven by it like a hundred times!"

Beca raises an eyebrow, trying not to interpret that as stalker behavior. "This is it."

Chloe carefully pulls over and puts her car in park. "Here we are!"

"Thanks." Beca quickly hops out of the car and slams it shut behind her. Before she can run inside her house, she hesitates and turns. "Hey," she says, thrumming her fingers on the roof of the car, "thanks for the ride home. And everything else. I… had fun tonight."

Chloe's smile is both knowing, mischievous, and… predatory? For a moment, Beca wonders if she should be worried. But Chloe only winks and starts her car back up. "Goodnight, Beca."

"'Night," Beca says faintly. She waits until Chloe drives out of sight, suspecting that she's being watched in the rear view mirror.

Over the next two weeks, Beca randomly receives texts from Chloe. She updates Beca on what she buys at the grocery store, the latest drama on America's Next Top Model (her favorite reality show, apparently), and the most dramatic character death in the A Song of Ice and Fire books. Beca hardly ever responds, but the texts are usually good for a laugh.

She's hiding out at Starbucks to avoid her parents one afternoon when she receives the text that changes everything: you're at starbucks, aren't you?

"What the hell." Beca takes a quick glance around the coffee shop over her laptop screen. Seeing no sign of the redhead (which she doesn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed about), she looks back down at her phone and replies.

yeah… why?

She gets her response not a minute later.

I'm on my way

Beca thinks about responding but decides against it. Nothing she could say could stop Chloe from doing what she wants, she knows that much. She presses play on her music and returns her attention to her laptop. Not one day goes by where she's not thankful for the free wi-fi at Starbucks.

Five songs later, there's a tap on her shoulder and she pulls her headphones down to her neck. When she turns around, she's met with the grinning face of Chloe Beale. Her blue eyes are as bright as ever. Beca's sure that if this were a cartoon, they would be sparkling. It's disgustingly cute.

"I would've pulled your headphones off, but I figured that would've gotten me killed," Chloe says, brushing some hair behind her ear, "or at least thoroughly cussed out."

"A good assumption on your part," Beca says, shutting her laptop. "It would've been really awkward if your lady jam started playing in the middle of a Starbucks."

Chloe's smile grows impossibly wider. "Do you mind if I sit?" she asks, gesturing to the empty seat across from Beca.

Yes.

"Go for it."

Damn it.

"So, where's Jesse tonight?" Chloe asks, stirring her caramel frappuccino with her straw.

Beca cocks an eyebrow. "Really? That's how you start a conversation, by asking about my little brother that you babysit?"

"Okay, okay, fine," Chloe says, holding her hands up for peace. "What do you wanna talk about?"

Beca takes a long, hard look at the redhead sitting across from her. As hard as she tries, she doesn't understand Chloe Beale. It takes a special kind of person to persistently pursue someone who makes it clear that they want to be left alone. Beca doesn't know if it's more admirable or annoying. No one's ever put forth this much effort to just be around her before; she doesn't know what to make of it. She finally sighs and shakes her head. The right words weren't coming. "How'd you know I was here?"

It's not much, but it's something. Better than nothing.

"Where else does the average antisocial teenage girl go to be alone?"

Beca raises an eyebrow.

"I've seen you in here like, three times," Chloe elaborates. "You never really looked like you wanted to be bothered before, so I never said hi."

"So, why bother me now?" Beca flinches internally at how rude she sounds, but the redhead isn't fazed.

Chloe shrugs. "I was bored and I wanted company."

"I am 100% positive that you have better people than me to keep you company."

"You shouldn't assume things," Chloe instructs, sounding like Beca's least favorite teacher. "It makes an ass—"

"Out of u and me," Beca finishes. "Yeah, I know the saying, but I'm already an ass, so I figured I'd be safe with one little assumption. And I didn't take you for the "cursing" type." She emphasizes her point with air quotes, making Chloe laugh. "Jesse speaks very highly of you, Ms. Beale."

"Do you and your brother talk about me a lot?" Chloe asks, raising a single eyebrow. There's a twinkle in her eyes that Beca interprets as playful. Or maybe it's predatory again. It's hard to tell.

Beca goes for a shrug. Her chair creaks with the uncomfortable shift in her weight and her eyes drift down to the floor. "I'll never tell."

"Guess I'll have to figure it out," Chloe says around her straw.

"Because you know me so well."

"I make it my business to know people," Chloe says with an air of sophistication.

The corner of Beca's mouth pulls upwards. "Then, why don't I know you?" she asks. She's hardly the popular type. She's shared several classes with people who never bothered to learn her first name. Beca Mitchell is virtually invisible at South High and that's just how she likes it. Having someone know this much about her is not only puzzling but suspicious as well. "Like, what do you do? Debate team? Christian club? You seem like the cheerleader type to me, to be honest."

Chloe's smile mirrors Beca's own. "Somehow, I feel like that's not exactly a compliment coming from you," she muses, smiling at Beca's nod. "I'm in choir."

Beca unsuccessfully tries to stifle a laugh.

"What?" Chloe says, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Sorry," Beca says, "it's just—it's pretty lame."

"Says the girl who did marching band her freshman year." Chloe's tone is teasing, but there's an offended look in her eyes that makes Beca regret her words. "Great uniform, by the way. Epaulets. Nice."

"Okay, okay," Beca concedes, holding her hands up for peace. "I'm sorry I said that. Choir is cool. And stalk much? What, did you look me up in your sophomore yearbook?"

"I might have." Chloe leans back, raises her cup to her lips, and winks. "Or maybe I coerced Amy into spilling all of your dirty little secrets."

"And that makes you less of a stalker?" A hint of worry flashes in her eyes. "You didn't really talk to Amy, did you? Because if you did, then there's some serious stuff that we need to talk about and other stuff that you're going to have to pretend you never heard."

The wicked glint that appears in Chloe's eyes makes Beca regret her words yet again. "I didn't," Chloe says, "but now that I know that you actually have dirty little secrets…" She giggles and Beca knows that she's doomed. "Spill, Mitchell."

The next day, Beca walks Jesse over to the Beale household, just as usual. But this time, she stays long enough for Chloe to invite her inside.
She almost regrets saying yes when Chloe squeals and pulls her into the house for a hug.

And that's how they begin.

A/N: Planning on having chapter 2 posted within the next few days. The wait shouldn't be long, but no promises. I hope you liked this!