February 3rd – 3:21 AM

"What the fuck?" Beca kicks the base of the dryer none too gently.

And alright, abusing non-sentient objects isn't her usual modus operandi in regards to laundry, but it's been a trying week, full of tedious readings and obnoxious classmates and bad weather and one commandeering Aubrey Posen.

And now. Now…

Now this. Fucking this.

Someone's left their pile of already dried clothes inside the machine – for several hours in the very least by the looks of it. The second dryer is 'out of order' after some dumbass decided to try and cycle his soaked canvas tent through the thing just a few days ago. Meanwhile, the third is currently in use with 24 minutes remaining on the cycle.

It's 3 am and all Beca wants to do is sleep.

"Just pile their stuff on top."

Enter: Chloe Beale – fantastically attractive, quietly talented, and sweet enough to make Beca's teeth ache.

Sweeping red hair, clear blue eyes, and Beca almost (keyword: almost) forgets her frustration.

"People forget their clothes all the time," Chloe continues, checking the washers one by one.

"Yeah, well," Beca says, bending to look inside dryer #1. "I'm not too hot on touching some stranger's pink thong."

"What about my pink thong?" Chloe teases playfully.

At least, Beca thinks it's just teasing. But who can tell with Chloe? While she's certainly seen the other woman undressed, she's never seen her undressing-

Beca shakes the mental image off and laughs nervously.

"Here, I'll help you," Chloe offers, setting her dark blue laundry bag aside momentarily. "I've had lots of experience with touching people's intimates."

"Well," Beca says, swallowing hard, "I'm glad I have such an expert with me."

"They should really change RA to RE – residential expert."

"You're an RA?"

"Was. Lerbert Hall, sophomore year," Chloe says absently as she moves the dryer's contents to the nearby table.

"Why would anyone do that?"

"I like people."

Beca raises an eyebrow dubiously.

"I do," Chloe defends with a sheepish grin. "Also free housing and a single room."

"Doesn't seem worth it," Beca says, finally stooping to help Chloe.

"Well, I had fun."

"What, did you confront your residents in the shower too?"

Chloe's wink is her only response.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Beca asks, subtly changing the topic (though subtle might be overselling herself here).

"My hall shares Laundry with yours, didn't you know?"

"No, I knew that. I meant like, why are you doing your laundry at 3 in the morning? Weirdo."

"Same reason you're here probably," Chloe says, flinging the last of the other person's clothing to the side.

"You're also terrible at being an adult?"

"Precisely."

Beca pushes back a grudging smile.

"Well… thanks for your help," she says.

"Anything for a fellow Bella."

Hurriedly, Beca gathers her wet clothing and tosses it into the now empty machine.

"See you at practice tomorrow," Beca says, hands twisting in her shirt awkwardly.

"Later today you mean," Chloe says cheekily.

"Right," Beca says with an inclining nod. "Later."

She flees like it's the scene of a (blameless, victimless) crime.

February 25th – 2:51 AM

Beca's not sure what she expects. Certainly not Chloe Beale – again – and certainly not Chloe Beale singing.

Laundry is laundry. You go in, slam-dunk your clothes and detergent into the washer, and you're out again. Twenty-five minutes later, you transfer your dripping shirts and jeans to the dryer, throw a fabric softener sheet in, and you're out again. An hour passes and you return one last time to this special sort of hell to get your belongings, and you're out – for a couple of weeks in the very least.

The process definitely does not involve hanging around and singing.

It's a transposed version of some Bruno Mars song, and Beca finds a soft smile rising unbidden across her lips.

"Nerd," Beca says, faux disparaging, as she passes by the table that Chloe's set up at. From the looks of her laptop, she's busy watching some TV show.

"You stalking me, Mitchell?"

"Excuse me, ridiculously late laundry is my thing," Beca says, clutching her hand to her chest in a show of offense.

"Pretty sure that's something that's been happening since the dawn of time," Chloe says, pausing her show and turning her full attention to Beca.

"Well, I brought it into the modern age. I'm an innovator, if you will." Beca pours out a cup of Tide before unceremoniously upending it into the washer.

"Really? Seems you're doing it all a bit quick and dirty," Chloe says with an outrageous smirk and outlandish wink.

"I am not," Beca sputters, desperately trying to keep the red from her cheeks. "I'm… thorough and clean. Pristinely so."

"I'm watching you literally hurl your multitude of black skinny jeans halfway across the room."

"Innovation. You wouldn't understand."

"Please. Laundry is an artform. You're sullying it with your cheap attempts," Chloe says, standing abruptly.

By the time Beca's turned towards her, Chloe's only two feet away.

"May I?" Chloe asks, pointing at Beca's plastic hamper.

"Now you ask for permission," Beca mutters under her breath as she moves aside.

"One does not simply dump the detergent in," Chloe says, nose upturned and tone pompous. "You disseminate it in a circular motion. The resulting blue rings will be shaky and uneven, but the imperfection is part of the experience."

Amused, Beca gestures, "Please, continue."

"Your vulgar stuffing merely reveals how uncultured you are," Chloe sniffs, admirably keeping the joke going. "You must treat each item of clothing as an extension of self, like this."

Delicately, Chloe picks up one of Beca's old Evanescence tees – black with white paint spattered liberally across the front – and unfurls it.

"Feel it flow under your fingertips," Chloe says. "You try."

"Right," Beca says, shaking her head but playing along anyway.

Chloe positions herself behind Beca, chest pressed to Beca's back, arms framing Beca's.

"Savor the feel of the cloth in your hands," Chloe says, guiding Beca's hands to the shirt. "Feel it?"

Clearing her throat, Beca tries to hide what effect those words are actually having on her. She nods once.

"Now arrange it – carefully – around the center of the washing machine, fill in the emptiness of your canvas," Chloe hushes into Beca's ear.

It's ridiculous. The whole thing is batshit insane. Beca's got a crazy redhead crooning about laundry of all things, and it's still somehow the sexiest situation she's ever gotten herself into.

"You got it?"

"Yeah," Beca's voice cracks at the end – embarrassingly. "Thanks for your uh tutelage."

"No problem," Chloe says, brushing across Beca's back as she moves away. "Happy to educate."

As Chloe settles back behind her laptop and hits the spacebar to start off where she left off with Suits, Beca clenches her fist tightly.

When Beca returns half an hour later for the drying portion, Chloe's already gone.

She tells herself the sinking feeling in her stomach isn't disappointment.

March 17th – 3:05 AM

"No way," Beca says, incredulous. "Do you come down here every night just waiting for me?"

"I swear I don't," Chloe laughs, tucking her mechanical pencil behind one ear, turning to face Beca.

"Well, we've got to stop meeting like this," Beca jokes. "We see each other enough at practices."

"You ready for the competish this weekend?"

"I got a bad feeling," Beca admits. "The songs we're singing. They're tired and everyone but Aubrey knows it."

"Winning this just means a lot to her," Chloe says, propping her feet on top of the table surface. Though Beca's eyes begin to stray along the length of Chloe's legs, she forces herself to focus on the white machinery's marked surface.

"Yeah, that's pretty clear."

"Don't hold it against her. The former Bella captain was a…" Her usual cheerful expression falters, eyes stuttering in their brightness.

"Dick?"

Chloe cracks a smile.

"To put it mildly."

"You're not going to criticize my laundering technique again, are you?"

Raising an eyebrow, Chloe replies, "Depends on if it's the criminal sort or not. Though your washing technique is practically criminal."

"Hilarious."

April 10th – 3:38 AM

Following the fallout with the Bellas, Beca tries her very best to avoid 3 am laundry and whatever too-comfortable routine she'd fallen into with Chloe. But her time management skills have never been competent, nor her clean to dirty clothing ratio, sustainable.

In and out. A minute flat. That's the plan.

"Beca," Chloe greets like the events of the semi-final never happened, like they haven't been on Spring Break for the past week and a half.

Tight-lipped, Beca stuffs her clothing into the washer extra forcefully – maybe a bit immature in her execution.

"Chloe," she finally acknowledges curtly.

And that's the end of that.

(Usually sparkling eyes dull, and Beca definitely does not notice.)

April 28th – 2:49 AM

"Beca."

"Chloe."

May 5th – 3:36 AM

"Beca."

Beca gives in to the wide grin that splits her mouth open.

"Chloe."

"You're doing your laundry all wrong again."

"Right," Beca shakes her head, ducking to hide her idiotic smile. "I uh never thanked you for inviting me back."

"No problem," Chloe says, leaning against the table nonchalantly. "We are better with you, after all."

"Seriously," Beca says, dropping her task for the moment. "Thanks for everything. Without you, I would've never joined the Bellas. And I mean… you took on Aubrey."

"All in a day's work."

"Your graduation date coming up? Nervous?"

Chloe stifles a yawn and says, "Nothing compared to competing in the aca-finals."

"Right," Beca says and sets the washer for a regular cycle.

Seemingly content with the silence, Chloe watches Beca intently, saying nothing.

"So…" Beca trails off.

"So."

"So…?"

The corner of Chloe's mouth quirks up.

"I don't think you've learned how to do laundry properly yet."

"Are you still stuck on that? My clothes are always pretty damn clean regardless."

"Let a girl flirt, will you?"

Beca freezes, brain whirling to come up with a response.

Chloe crosses her arms, clearly waiting.

"Uh." Beca's coming up short and can only say, "Laundry is the least sexy thing in the world, you know that, right?"

"Really?" Chloe challenges, hands bracketing Beca's waist and maneuvering her against the nearby machinery.

Instinctively, Beca's arm straightens backwards to the surface of the washer to brace her body. Heart hammering, Beca has a million questions on the tip of her tongue – none of which come close to any sort of coherence even in her mind.

"May I?" Chloe asks, eyes flickering down to Beca's slightly parted lips, intent clear.

Though Beca opens her mouth, no answer comes out. The moment is entirely too much.

Dumbly, she nods instead.

Then Chloe's lips are slanted over her own in a rush of heat and tenderness. A firm hand against Beca's back steadies them both as Chloe pushes forward tentatively.

"Wait," Beca says, breaking the kiss.

Chloe withdraws partially, concern overtaking her expression.

"We cannot tell anyone that we started dating over laundry. At 3 AM."

"Dating?" Chloe says, regular jovial attitude returning through the relief. "Who said anything about dating? Getting ahead of yourself, Mitchell."

"Weirdo," Beca says affectionately, leaning in for another kiss, just as sweet – but this time it doesn't end until long after the machine cycle beeps its end.

(Apparently some things are more important than laundry – even to Chloe Beale.)

A/N: Though I am aware of the Chloe intentionally failing four years in a row - within the past 2 days I still have not seen PP2, so I elected to ignore it~ See you in two(ish) days. Sorry for the delay. Though I'd like to say I cleverly waited till 3 AM my time, alas, this was an accident of procrastination.