So, I know I've kinda been gone for a while but I have been writing, I promise! I also discovered that one shots are kinda, maybe my thing? We'll see! There are numerous perspectives in this so please let me know what POV you prefer so I can write like that in the future! Ideas for future one shots are appreciated!

It had been a long day. Bella rehearsals over-ran by 2 hours, you had spilt coffee down your shirt as you crashed into someone, rushing around. Again. You had been between the libraries, your lectures for the day along with the last midterm before the awaiting week break. Just as the thought of the day being over, finally, crossed your mind you arrive at the Bellas house, finding the group writing a grocery list. Fucking hell. And 1…2…3.

"Chloe?" Just as predicted.

"Nope, I'm not going to the store," you state firmly, closing the fridge door. You're not usually this rigid, only when someone or something angers you, which isn't that often. Hardly ever, now that you think about it. But that makes you smile as you've always tried to keep yourself in check, even more so when you're around people. Tonight though, there's just that something itching at you. Like that time, you caught chicken pox, significantly later than everyone else, in high school. You just don't have the patience to wait for the itch to ebb away.

"Well there's nothing else here and it can't exactly wait until tomorrow," Fat Amy blabbers away, seeming to take charge of the situation.

Are they serious? They can go themselves for fuck sake. "I actually can't believe this right now. I'm going upstairs and pretending that didn't just come out of your mouth." You're out of the room before anyone could reply, something unusual for you.

It's like having kids! I'm there for them, they know that, but this is pushing it now. They don't ask how I am, it's like they don't even care! It's like what? 8pm? Ugh! I'm not their fucking mom, I'm pretty sure they can-and that's when the world around you stops.

Chucking your bag and books on your bed across the room, you make your way to Beca's sleeping form in her own bed. It crosses your mind, like it has so many times before, that you and Beca really should push these beds together. You sleep in Beca's bed most of the time anyway. Maybe it's just an excuse to be close. Yeah, definitely that.

The brunette looks peaceful, although you can hear her congested breathing and don't fail to notice the house supply of blankets pilled on the petite girl, who accumulated a slight shiver to her pale body. It reminds you of when you and Beca jumped in the Trebles pool last December and your teeth wouldn't stop chattering all night until Beca had insisted you have a hot bath. Which she ran for you. And yes, the three days following you may have had the worst cold you think you've ever had but you try not to concentrate on that.

Stoking her hair out of the way, you let your hand graze the DJ's head which was too hot to be considered even slightly okay.

Getting up carefully, you make your way into the bathroom and God you're thankful you have the only en-suite in the house. Searching the cupboards, you come up with a thermometer and some medicine for the cough which you know your girlfriend will have.

"Hey, Bec," you say gently, kneeling in front of the bed whilst stroking her hair, attempting to wake her.

Even though you decide to shut up, your hand continues its journey through the brunette locks, slowly awaking the girl. You don't mind the silence though; silence between the two of you has always been comfortable.

"Chloe?" She rasps, her eyes shocked at the light as they eventually open.

"Yeah babe, I'm here," you promise, travelling your hand under the blankets to hold hers.

"Could you turn the light off?" Beca could barely get the words out and it honestly kills you to see her in such a state. And that's when it hits you-you've never saw Beca sick before.

You turn the light off, replacing it with the lamp on your own side of the room, and promptly return to Beca, kneeling on the floor so you can look at her.

"I'm just going to take your temperature, okay?" Receiving a nod, the thermometer gets placed in Beca's mouth and then you lean over to retrieve your notepad and pen. Well now they have to go to the store.

"God Bec, you've really outdone yourself with that fever," you start, "102.7."

Beca only offered a sad smile. Bloody hell, she must be feeling crap if she's not making any jokes about this.

"I feel like shit," she admits quietly, still not removing herself from the cocoon.

"How long have you been here? You should have text me," you whisper, gently running your fingers through the younger girl's hair again. You know she loves it, probably too much too. You knew she adored the feeling before she had admitted it to you, asking you to do it more often. Of course, you do.

"I came home at like 2 and just crashed. I figured I would make use of the quiet." You can tell she's referring to literally everyone else living in the house who, even at night, seem to make the most weird and unnatural sounds. That was part of the reason you wanted to share a room together, you two being the only 'normal' ones, as Beca liked to say, of the house who wanted a break from everything when they decided to call it a night.

"Have you eaten? Thrown up?" The questions would have only run rampant in your brain, coming up with the worst answers and possibilities. It's what your mind does when you're overwhelmed which, you realize, doesn't happen often. You're starting to grasp that you don't get negative emotions a lot.

"Breakfast but I threw up when I came back here," Beca informs, used to your doctor side by now. With a full house who do complicated dances and have busy schedules, it isn't unusual for you to be wrapping a sprain or rubbing backs at the toilet in early hours of the morning. You're most definitely the mom of the group. But you realise that you've never had to do it for Beca as she was never sick, never hurt, she just kind of floated about.

"Okay, I'll be right back," you say as you leave the room quietly, closing the door, list in hand.

Walking down the stairs, you can still hear the voices in the kitchen. Are they still arguing over this list? I actually live with kids.

"Have any of you seen Beca?" you ask to no one in particular.

They all stay quiet, shaking their heads, seemingly distracted and not interested in you after you refused to go to the store.

"Well Beca's sick upstairs in bed with basically a 103 fever," you start, gaining their attention instantly, "and I'm the last home yet the first to know." They all looked at you with faces in between concern and terror, knowing full well that when you're pissed, which is very infrequent, you're pissed.

"To be fair Chloe your room is on the top floor and-"

"I'm not here to fight about it, I just need someone to go to the store while I sort Beca out," cutting Emily off, you place the list of supplies next to the one the group had been writing. You don't want to be rude, you hate being rude, but you think that it's the only way you'll get them to listen. It's a Bella known fact that you handle the Beca situations-you're the only one who knows how. And honestly? The other Bellas wouldn't have a clue how to go about calming Beca when she goes off on a rage or when she just curls up in bed all day because, like Beca has told you so many times, sometimes she just has bad days. And yeah, they are worse than most other people's but you can usually convince her to eat something and let you in to her cocoon so you don't mind those days so much.

"Okay, I'll go when they finish the list. How is she?" Cynthia Rose asks, making you smile. The girl always did have a helpful, serious side.

"Not good. I've never even heard of her being sick before, let alone see it, but she's sick." You can tell they've understood you by some of their faces. No one had heard of Beca even with a cold before this.

"Alright, Chloe, we got this, go sort your girl out," CR continues, pulling you off to the side slightly and placing a rough yet somehow soft hand on your back. You really need to show the girl how much you appreciate her more often, you decide.

"Thank you."

When you re-enter the loft, you find the younger women sat up slightly on her elbows, coughing loudly. You're not sure how you didn't hear her from downstairs but the thought quickly evaporates as you rush across the room, planting yourself on the edge of the bed, gently rubbing and patting her back until the coughing stops. You pass her some cough medicine and water to smooth her throat.

"Thanks, Chlo," Beca whispers, using you to keep herself upright. Her voice sounds rougher and you can tell it's only a matter of time before it dissipates completely.

"Why don't we get you dressed?" you suggest, leaving no room for argument but Beca knows you're really talking to yourself. It often happened; your thoughts coming out as words before you can even think-but you know Beca loves it so why put effort in to stop it?

You help Beca up so her legs hang off the side of the bed. You always do make fun of how she can't touch the ground. You can tell Beca's confused when you turn back to her with her favourite top and shorts, which were previously across the room, without letting her fall. You have your ways.

Beca doesn't pay much attention to what you're doing, it isn't hard to see that, she just simply lets you adjust her in order to get her changed. You guide her to lay back down and watch her close her eyes. Somehow, you don't know how, you understand that the brunette isn't sleeping but blocking out the light from the room as her face screws up in slight pain, as if she was scratching her nose.

You manage to get yourself dressed in similar attire before turning the light off and climbing in bed with Beca. As you get into the bed, preparing yourself to have Beca clutch to you, you feel her gravitate away from you, towards the wall. You can only guess that your girlfriend wants her space but for some reason, you had always pinned her as the touchy type when sick.

She's always touchy with you now. You'll admit that it hadn't always been like that but it had been since the two of you had become close and even more so when you started dating. It only shows when you're alone though, a fact you smile at, as Beca would be mortified if the Bella's found out about it. Because you have definitely not told them all and sworn them to secrecy or anything. Definitely not.

But you just can't understand how Beca's not cuddling into you right now. So, you being a Beale, you prop yourself so your leaning back against the pillows and pull Beca towards you, guiding her head down to rest just under your collar bone as you begin to trace your fingers over her back.

"You're going to get sick," Beca mumbles as she starts to pull away from the embrace only to be kept firmly in place by yourself.

"I'll be fine. I'm more worried about you," you whisper, but you start to wonder if that was the right thing to say as you know Beca doesn't like to cause any worry for anyone, including yourself. But you don't care if you get sick. You need to be with her right now.

"Just let me look after you, Mitchell." You know she'll listen if you go on long enough.

You lay in silence for a while, not wanting to disturb, what looks like, Beca's peaceful state she has developed.

When a soft knock sounds, you feel Beca flinch a little and you know that she had almost fell asleep.

"Come in," you call out softly, still not stopping your finger movements on Beca's back.

Watching Cynthia Rose slowly make her way in the room, obviously not knowing Beca's state of consciousness, you point to the lamp, signalling for the other girl to light it up.

"I got everything you asked but some things I wasn't sure so I just got what I thought was best?" It's clear that she doesn't have a clue what she's doing.

"No, yeah, that's fine. Thank you." You smile gratefully, never realising how helpful the girl was. Wow, you feel like a dick.

Just as the bigger woman is about to turn to leave, a breath sounds from Beca's mouth while her body winces in your arms. You panic immediately. Who wouldn't, right?

"Beca, what's wrong? What hurts?" You ask, rather rushed, before you can even think of the words. The whole thing reminds you of when your sister had exceptionally bad cramps as a teen and your mother would sit with her on the bed, smoothing her hair and rubbing her back until the wincing stopped. You're lucky enough that you don't get bad cramps, thank the heavens.

Your only guess to Beca's silence is that she simply can't answer. Of course, it only worries you more. You try to not let it show but it's kinda hard when your girlfriend won't talk to you and-. Your thoughts and your apparently dream like state are cut off as you feel the other woman poking you and gesturing to where Beca had started to cling to her stomach.

"Pass me some pain killers?" you request, gesturing to the bag while gently prying Beca's arm away from her waist and helping her sit up slightly. You try to be gentle, you really try, but you can't help but notice Beca's pained expressions as you move her.

"Becs, I need you to take these for me, okay?" After receiving a forced nod from Beca, you raise the pills up to her mouth, followed by some water.

Giving Beca a minute, you hand the bottle back to CR. After that, you seem to block everything else out, as if everything is blurry but the girl in your arms. Almost like those amazing photos which Ashley takes and puts on Instagram, where everything is blurred but the person.

At this point, Beca can only produce shaky breaths as she tries to collect herself and you're only too happy to accept her as she returns to cuddle into your side.

"Better?" you ask, placing a kiss on her hairline.

"Yeah, thank you," Beca tries to speak but her voice is raspy and quiet. You didn't really expect her to answer with words.

You look up then, expecting to see Cynthia Rose still stood there. But all you find is the bag she had brought, by your side.

"Why don't you try and get some sleep? It might help."

Beca gives a nod, melting into you as she attempts to relax.

You soon feel her body go limp against yours, allowing yourself to relax slightly.

No matter how long you try to convince yourself to relax, all you can seem to think about is the symptoms and what illnesses they matched up to, desperate to help the brunette next to you. You know you're being over dramatic; it was probably just a case of flu, right? For God's sake Chloe-it's the flu. Definitely the flu. I'm probably going to catch it-then Beca will have to take care of me. Like last time. God, Beale, stop being so selfish!

An hour into your thoughts, you find yourself drifting off, holding Beca closer to you than usual.

It seemed like a total of 10 minutes that you had been asleep when your awoken, glancing at the clock to reveal it was just past 3am. It's then that you notice the bathroom light leaking under the door, sending a glow across the room, and the light indent in the bed of where Beca used to be. Usually the roles are swapped, you're usually the one who gets up in the middle of the night if it's anyone. You know that once Beca's out, she's out.

Listening carefully as you make your way to the door, you can't actually hear anything from inside the bathroom. No movement. Anything. You would just go in if you hadn't had that talk about boundaries a couple weeks ago.

"Hey, babe, you okay?" you ask, lightly tapping on the door.

"Chloe." It's filled with a breath and was probably too quiet to be considered a whisper but you somehow hear it. Maybe it was the desperation that encased it. A plead. An unasked question that the girl wanted help to which you plan on giving to the best of your ability.

"Oh God, Bec, why didn't you wake me?" you say as you enter, rushing over to the brunette. Beca had somehow slumped down the wall next to the toilet, her knees to her chest with her cheek rested on top, facing towards the door.

As you reach her, her body jerks forward, another bout of sickness overcoming her. You react quickly, used to people throwing up now, rubbing her back and holding the hairs that had escaped the messy bun back. When it seems like she's finished, you pull her back into your arms so she can comfortably lay against you. You don't say anything, neither does she, but you think that's for the best so you just allow Beca to lean against you how she wants.

And that's where you stay until you know that you've been there too long to be considered okay. You know it's early, the sun just coming up and starting to spread across the room, and that's what clues you in to the unacceptable time you had been there. Beca had thrown up, you guessed, maybe twice an hour every hour. But things were looking up as Beca had been resting against you for the longest time yet, fast asleep.

Someone send Stacie, I repeat STACIE, up here please. ASAP! You send to the Bellas group chat. Someone had to be awake.

You hear a bang from downstairs and then a scurry of feet making their way to the first level, where Stacie's room is. A feeling of guilt appears; you know that Stacie won't be awake yet, heck, she could sleep until noon. And she did. On a regular occurrence.

"Chloe, this better be good," Stacie mumbles as you hear her light footsteps across your room. You only offer a sad smile as Stacie joins you on the floor, facing you and Beca. You wait for her to talk but it never comes so you just watch as her hand slowly raises and tucks a loose strand of hair behind Beca's ear.

"Sorry, I just-I know she wouldn't want anyone else to see her like this," you quietly explain, knowing Stacie wasn't going to talk anytime soon.

"It's fine, Chlo, what do you need?"

"Could you grab the bucket from downstairs, a bottle of water and possibly some tea and put them next to the bed please?"

"Yeah, sure. Are you sure there's nothing else I can do?" Stacie questions, starting to stand up and head towards the door.

"No, that's good. Thank you, Stace."

Stacie's out before you know it and you're left alone with Beca. Keeping Beca asleep is a hard task in itself but moving her? Simply dangerous. But you somehow manage it with only a slight stir from Beca as you reach the bed.

"Amy-I don't think-" Stacie's cut off by a shriek as the door slams open. "For fuck sake Amy!"

"Hey, stop blaming the Tasmanian," Fat Amy counters as she hoists herself back up.

"Oh my god, we're so sorry," Stacie eventually says as she and Amy make their way into room.

You have resumed your half and half position against the pillows with Beca cuddled into your side, head resting on your shoulder and arm slung around your waist. Magically, you had managed to get Beca settled without awakening her but now the brunette looked almost drowsy with her eyes fluttering.

"Really Stace, really," you reply, obviously pissed that she had picked Fat Amy of all people to help her.

"How you doing, midget?" Amy try's to be caring.

"Mmhmm," Beca hums, only to clutch at her throat, not expecting the pain.

"Stace, pass me that," you say, gesturing to the tea.

"Here, Becs," you continue as you pass the mug to Beca.

You could tell by the look on her face that it burned her throat. Or it hurt to swallow. Maybe both.

Lying back in your arms again, blanket tucked under her chin, her drowsy state soon engulfs her as she falls asleep within a matter of seconds. After seeing Beca had fallen asleep, you quickly shoo the other two out, not wanting to disturb your girlfriend's much needed sleep.

Its hours later when you eventually wake Beca, pushing the brunette to eat something. Beca, being as whipped as she was, couldn't say no to the blue eyes but that didn't mean she wanted to. You could tell it was quite the opposite actually.

You manage to get her to eat some soup and drink a bit, saying she needs to replace the fluids she had lost.

Both fall asleep for the night pretty quickly, some of the Bellas even coming to find Chloe only to discover she too was asleep. They let them be though, agreeing to keep the house as quiet as possible as all knew about the previous night, knowing how exhausted the two must be.

The morning after however, no one was ready for. Beca's fever had increased significantly from where it had gone down the previous night to the point where Chloe was debating on whether to take her to the hospital. This was after Beca had refused to see a doctor. Along with that, Stacie had also spent the night throwing up, Aubrey helping her through it as she had arrived late that night to see her girlfriend only to discover that she too was down with the sickness.

Cynthia Rose had suggested to put both girls on the top floor, where Chloe and Beca's room was, but both girls wanted their own space and bed, effectively causing the other Bellas to maneuver themselves. Lily, Stacie's roomy, had been moved to Ashley and Jessica's room as they had both left for the week while everyone else on the second floor took the spare beds on the first, not wanting to spread or catch the illness. So, quarantine was the only option.

"Beca, I really think we should go to the hospital," you continue. You can tell Beca really does admire your perseverance.

"Chlo, I'll be fine." Beca tries brushing it off as if her voice isn't basically non-existent and isn't the owner of a 104 fever.

"Becs," you say warningly, "you're really sick." And that's when you can finally see Beca give in, realise, that she's not as good as she says.

"If it gets that bad, I'll tell you, I promise. You can take me to the hospital then, okay?"

You can hear that the brunette's voice won't last much longer so ultimately decide that arguing is pointless and that you should just hold on to the fact that Beca will get better with rest. "Just sleep for now," you basically command, your hand running through Beca's hair.

You stay until Beca drifts off, leaving the room and making your way to the kitchen. You're aware that you had completely forgotten about yourself the past few days, food wise anyway, so decide grilled cheese would probably be good-that's until you reach the kitchen. You soon realise that the bar stool was a better option than actually making something, deciding to lay your head down in your arms.

You're not sure how much time passes when a hand touches your back, slowly moving in soothing circles. You know who it is without having to look.

"How's Stacie?" you ask, your head still in place on the counter.

"She's okay. Not half as bad as Beca apparently is."

"She's just so stubborn. She has a 104 fever Bree! 104! Yet she refuses to go to a doctor," you say, your voice cracking slightly. You know it's only a matter of time before the tears will come.

"Hey Chlo, she'll be fine. There's no need for tears, you're okay," Aubrey comforts, taking you into her arms as the tears start. Not many people have saw you cry, you always like to keep your sensitive, emotional side tucked away. The only Bellas who have seen it are perhaps Beca and Aubrey-you can't be sure. But it's not like you cry all that much anyway, mainly when you're stressed and tired. You don't really get upset enough to get to the wet cheeks stage.

"I know, I'm just being silly," you respond, pulling away and wiping away the escaped tears.

"I think you're just tired and hungry and maybe a tad delirious…am I right?" Aubrey asks softly.

"Probably, yeah." you wipe the remaining tears away and go to stand from the stool only to be pushed back down by Aubrey.

"You sit there while I make you something to eat." Normally you would protest but the lack of energy makes you offer a grateful smile.

You watch as Aubrey walks over to the fridge, emerging herself in whatever's in there, before letting your head drop and closing your eyes.

"Chlo…Chloe." You don't realise you've fallen asleep until Aubrey's gently waking you. "Here, eat and then we'll get you to bed," she continues, pushing a plate towards you.

"Thank you," you breathe. God, you're grateful Aubrey chose this weekend to visit.

"It's fine Chlo. I'll be right back, I'm just going to go and check on Stace."

"Check on Beca too please," you call after her, hoping she would do as asked. They were friends now after all. After Bhloe, in the words of Fat Amy, had become a thing after Worlds, you had sat Aubrey down and made her agree to be nice to the girl, as you did with Beca. Having your best friend and girlfriend bickering is not something you want.

"They're both fast asleep. It's kind of cute actually, Beca has filled I'm guessing where you were led with a pillow and has a death grip on it so good luck getting back in." Aubrey chuckles at your face as she spoke. Your face says it all.

"This happens literally all the time, I leave for 5 minutes and the lil bitch has already replaced me," you play along.

"Anyway, you and I both need to go to bed, I'm pretty sure everyone else went to some party so I'm going to make use of the quiet as I'm sure they won't be back anytime tonight," Aubrey declares as you both stand from your respective seats.

"Good idea," you whisper as you place your plate in the sink.

"Make sure to take some medicine before you go to sleep, I can tell you're beginning to come down with something and God help me if I have to care for 3 of you," Aubrey gently says as you reach the top floor. She tells you to get a good night's sleep and to call her if you need anything at which you nod, assuring her you will.

Sure enough, there Beca was, pillow tightly attached to her. You would be lying if you said you didn't find it adorable. You somehow manage to replace the pillow with yourself, wrapping your arms around Beca and pulling the covers slightly higher. You find yourself drifting off almost immediately.

"Chlo…Chloe, baby, wake up." Beca gently wakes her from where she rests on her chest. Sometime in the night Beca had woken and heard Chloe's breathing along with the gentle, subconscious nudges the redhead gave her, trying to get closer. Long story short, Beca had swapped their positions so Chloe was comfortably cuddled into her side.

"Becs?" she rasps out quietly, the sleep coming through to her voice. She knew Beca was worried; she only calls Chloe 'Baby' when she's upset or ill.

"You're feeling warm, babe. You feeling alright?" She looks down at Chloe, seeing she can barely keep her eyes open which only worries the brunette more.

"No," she whispers quietly. Chloe knows she should be asking how Beca is as she can hear that although her voice has returned it is nowhere near where it should be but she honestly doesn't have the energy to lie in saying she feels the slightest bit alright.

"Aubrey's going to bring some tea up for us, okay? I know your throat is killing," Beca states confidently, even with her voice sounding as if she smoked a 50 pack a day. Despite that, Chloe had to give her credit, the redhead didn't notice Beca reach for the phone. She didn't even see her text Aubrey for God's sake.

Pain aside, because, yes, her throat hurt like a bitch, courtesy of her nodes surgery, she's surprised that Beca knows. Can tell. Although, it's not like this hasn't happened before. Whenever she got a cold, which was frequent when living with a group of girls, it always seemed to bother her throat. And it wasn't just a sore throat. Chloe can remember when she had literally cried and cried to Beca about it, explaining it felt exactly like how it did when she had the worst of her nodes. Of course, Beca, being Beca, took her to the doctor who said it was just because of her surgery and was normal-there was nothing she could do about it.

Chloe only nods as she reattaches her head with her girlfriend's chest, slowly letting her eyes close. The next thing she's aware of, she wouldn't know the amount of time that past, is a cold hand on her forehead. It feels soothing on her skin yet sends shivers down her already ice body. She shifts at the feeling, slowly opening her eyes again to see the culprit, even though she could have guessed.

"Oh Chlo," Aubrey whispers from where she's perched on the side of the bed, the same side which Chloe's body lays. Although, the redhead isn't quite sure it would count, she's more on Beca's body than a side. Whose she kidding? Beca is her side.

Beca and Aubrey-mainly the latter-help sit Chloe up, half on Beca and half on the pillows. Someone hands her the cup of tea, she's not completely sure who, and she starts to take small sips.

"How're you feeling?" Aubrey asks as she hands Beca her own cup.

"Like I'm going to throw up any moment now but I'll be fine. I'm more worried about this one," Beca rasps, moving her arm to lazily lay around Chloe's shoulders as the redhead shuffles down and rests just below Beca's shoulder.

Aubrey's just concerned about Chloe's response. Or lack of.

"Is there anything I can get for you, Chlo?" Aubrey try's. Chloe only shakes her head softly, letting her head eventually fall against Beca's chest. Aubrey takes Chloe's cup; she's already falling asleep and will inevitably spill it.

The day continues like that. Chloe's in an almost drowsy state so Beca thinks sleeping will do the trick. So, that's what they do. No one pukes so everyone considers that progress. By evening, Chloe's more with it and actually talking, despite Beca telling her not to.

And then everything goes to shit.

First, Chloe wakes Beca, who had gone to sleep with a migraine. But Beca didn't care about that, Chloe's crying and complaining that her stomachs being eaten alive-Beca thinks that's the worst description the redhead could have given but can't exactly ignore her. And then Chloe's puking in the bucket, Beca rubbing her back and whispering sweet nothings into her ear in-between rounds. When they both pass out from exhaustion, sleep coming easy, it's only a few hours until Beca's awake, nudging her girlfriend as she lunges for the bucket. And yes, yes, they did clean it…after Aubrey refused to do so at 2am. So, of course, Chloe rubbed her girlfriends back and guided her into her arms when done.

Both thanked their lucky stars when no one had puked again when they woke up at 2 that afternoon. So, the next few days are spent cuddling in bed with tea and movies-Chloe's idea-while both rid the symptoms left.