Author's notes:

So I have literally always wanted to do a play on 'Weird Science'. I love that movie and seeing as how I was a big fan as a little lesbian teenager, it was always a fun fantasy. Of course now that I'm doing it I'm finding it to be less of a direct crossover and more of a influenced by kind of thing. There will be a few small things that will be direct tributes but otherwise, it will be different.

Either way, if you haven't seen Weird Science and you liked the 80's John Hughes comedies (Breakfast Club, Sixteen Candles, Pretty In Pink) then you should check it out! If nothing else it's epic eye candy! I mean...Kelly LeBrock...dear lord. Go google search 'Kelly LeBrock door frame' and take a gander (yes a gander) at that. I mean, it's 80's-tastic but still hot as hell.

:Sigh: My teenage dreams come true.

Alright. That all being said you don't have to have seen Weird Science to read this!

FYI: Shermer Illinois is the fake city where all of John Hughes movies are based.

Gotta give credit where credit is due! Mia totally figured out what to call our spicy titian-haired beauty and looked over this for me. Props to you, Mia!

Last note: Like everything I write, it's going to start out a little depressing but it should (I hope) pick up into funny. After all, the whole point of Lisa in the movie was to take two unhappy and lonely boys who had hard lives and give them a little help.

This is not going to have weekly updates like everything else I do does. This is more of a do the next chapter in between other things kind of story.

Also, while this has been read through, it won't be beta'ed like my usual stuff. My beta is currently stuck doing chapters of 'What You Do To Me' and 'Lagniappe'! She just doesn't have time! So since this is just a little little fic, we're gonna go for it. Hopefully it's not too bad!

Alright, ya'll, cue Oingo Boingo and here we go!

Chapter one:

"Are you serious right now, Mom? Like, you've got to be kidding, right? You're kidding! That's what's happening; you're kidding right now, right?" For a moment Beca almost laughed because this was totally a joke; her mom wasn't going to just take the hell off on her last night. Yeah, she kind of sucked sometimes but that would be a whole new low.

No way.

"I know. I know, I know." Her mother sighed into the mirror beside the living room door, "But it's not as though this is the last time we'll see each other. I'll see you in the morning!" Beca knew her face didn't change. Her eyebrows were still high, her mouth hanging open as she scoffed, "Oh don't be like that, puppy. Rudy sounded really blue. He needs some company!"

"Right. Company. I'm sure that's what he needs." Beca muttered, falling onto the couch with a disbelieving grunt.

"Don't be dirty, Beca!"

"Oh." Beca cleared her throat, running her hands over her eyes, "My bad."

Her mother let out a long sigh, the kind of sigh that had always told her that she was having a bratty moment and that her mother would only deal with it for so much longer before she got snappy. "Just call Conner! I'm sure he'd love to take you to the movie."

Beca opened her mouth and then closed it again. If her mom hadn't realized that Conner hadn't been around for a few weeks now then she wasn't going to point it out.

"Look, I'll see you in the morning. We'll have breakfast before your flight, okay muffin?"

Puppy. Muffin. She always knew exactly what level of fucked up they had reached based on the cutesy-ness of the nickname her mother used on her. Forgot plans with Beca? 'I'm sorry, cupcake.' Missed Beca's birthday? 'I get so scattered sometimes, panda bear.' Put her on a plane to visit her dad so she could have a weekend with Rudy? 'I deserve to have a life too, bumblebee.'"

Beca didn't respond as she watched her mother draw on yet another layer of lipstick. She considered telling her that more makeup on top of the shit she already had slathered on wouldn't really mean Rudy was going to like her more than he already did. But fuck it, if she did then her mom might fly off the handle in a fit of melodramatic middle-aged-and-unhappy rage.

Plus, who knew, maybe that wasn't true anyway. You never knew with guys like Rudy. Maybe if her mom layered on enough Maybelline then Rudy would give up his never ending search for twenty-year-old waitresses to bang and would settle down with her mom.

She just kept her mouth shut, ignoring the heavily makeuped kiss that her mother had sent her and clicked the TV on.

The thing that was really annoying her was that she was surprised by this. She shouldn't have been. Like, at all.

She watched her mother disappear through the front door, smelling of cheap perfume and hairspray. "It's cool!" She barked at the closed door, "I'll just spend my last night in town by myself! No big deal. Whatever."

Was this really how it had just gone? No, she hadn't even wanted to see the movie that her mother had been planning on dragging her to. It looked like a total waste of time since she was pretty sure she could tell who done it by the preview alone. Side note: it was the husband. It's always the husband. But at least going to see a movie with her mom would have meant she didn't have to sit in this house by herself all freaking night. This was literally the last night in her entire fucking life that she would be living under this roof, for fuck sake! And thank fucking god for that too.

She scowled, her arms crossing obstinately as she stared at the TV screen that she already knew she didn't want to watch. "Just call Conner," she mimicked in a high voice and then immediately wished that she hadn't because she felt stupid and childish.

And yeah, maybe she had a right to be for like a nanosecond. But still. That wasn't really her. She could be bitchy – she could be reserved and distant but she wasn't childish. Her mom just – ugh, taking off like that made her feel like a kid again, made her feel like that kid waiting for her parents to stop fighting so they could go for pizza…which of course they would forget, each getting out of the car and leaving Beca alone there in the backseat in the driveway.

The last fucking night of living at home and her mom blew it off because Rudy wanted some 'company'.

Foul.

And totally shitty.

God, she so couldn't wait for the next morning when she would get her happy ass on a plane that would take her all the way from Shermer, Illinois to Atlanta, Georgia. No Mom. No Conner. No Hayden. No Shermer. And she was one step closer to getting her dad to give up this stupid idea that she had to 'get an education'. Come on, he hadn't paid attention to her in years. When it came to her he had the attention span of a gnat. She was sure she would be gone after a semester. So, getting on that plane...that meant she was one step closer to L.A.

Far away from her Mom.

Who had just taken off to go be with Rudy.

On her last night in Shermer...ever.

Her jaw set and she blinked a few times as her eyes began to burn. She wasn't going to get all weepy. Whatev. It's not like she cared anyway.

It's not like she and her mom were close or anything, not since the divorce.

It didn't matter.

Whatever.

Screw this place, she had better things in mind for herself.

She settled into the couch better, pushing the hurt off with the skill level of a pro and pulled out her phone. She didn't exactly have anything she wanted to do with it but she clicked open her Tumblr app and began to scroll because what else was she going to do? Then she switched over to Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat and Vine before heading back to Tumblr. It wasn't until she had reached all the way down to the posts that she had seen that morning that she began to stir again, finally coming out of her grumpy coma.

Bored. This was boring. She was bored. She flipped through Twitter again because it was a habit before she realized that there was still nothing new to see. With a huff, she dropped her phone back onto the couch, offended that her social media accounts were not more entertaining in her time of need.

She thought longingly of the bags in her bedroom where her laptop and everything music related was packed away and ready for her to get the hell out of dodge the next morning. Had she known that she was going to be sitting around and waiting for a reasonable time to go to bed then she wouldn't have packed them. …She could just unpack them, her laptop bag at least, and then pack it again. Right? Totally. That didn't seem like an unreasonable thing to do. She almost got up, almost went upstairs but she let out a groan. She was not allowed to unpack those bags again. No, not one more freaking time. She had packed and unpacked them in anticipation so many times that it was kind of lame. No, it was totally lame. And it would totally be her luck to unpack it all and then forget something so nope, not unpacking. She needed to make sure that she had every single item when she got to Georgia otherwise her setup would not be complete and she would be fucked.

She picked her phone back up and touched the Tumblr app again. She hadn't even realized she had done it. Tumblr was just an I'm bored habit. She ran out of new things to look at within minutes and let out an annoyed whimper, her head falling back to her lap with a slap. She couldn't sit there anymore. With a sorrowful moan, she pulled herself to her feet. She didn't really have anything that she wanted to do, she just knew she was over the couch. So she just wandered through the rooms, looking for something to entertain her.

Finally, because she was out of options, she flopped back onto the couch and stayed there, opening apps she rarely used and getting tired of them almost instantly, her mind drifting until she felt her stomach begin to gurgle.

Dinner; her mom had totally forgotten about dinner. Her head fell back to the couch again, her scowl growing. She was going to have to cook. Shit, she was going to have to cook, which she wasn't so great at. Actually, that wasn't exactly true. It just depended on what was being judged, really. She wasn't so great at the whole making edible food part of it, but if she was supposed to burn water, catch the kitchen on fire, and break things then she was golden; she got an A+.

She chewed her lip, staring over her shoulder at the kitchen as though if she thought at it hard enough then food would magically appear.

There was a Taco Bell like six blocks down Clark. She could walk to that and - who was she kidding? She had no interest in walking to Taco Bell. God, why didn't Taco Bell deliver? That was a huge market that they were totally missing out on.

She glanced back at the kitchen again, debating. She was pretty sure they hadn't stocked up on Top Ramen or Cup Noodles this week because of that whole leaving this house forever thing. She was also pretty sure that there were no leftovers since she had been home alone last night as well. She blew out a grumpy breath.

She was going to have to cook.

Damn.

Where was the fire extinguisher?

It took her another little while more of staring at her phone before she stood, allowing a wail of self-pity to rattle from her. She was going to have to get over it pretty soon so she had better let it out now and deal. She let the annoyance flow through her for another second and then squared her shoulders. Right. Done with that. Adulting now.

But. She was not cooking without music, no way, so at least there was that. She might not be so bored for the rest of the night if she unpacked her headphones at least.

But you're not allowed to pull anything else out, Beca! Nothing else. She dug her headphones out of her laptop bag, staring longingly at her Mac. She could just take it out...she would remember it, she was sure. It was her freaking laptop. She would remember it.

Except she knew herself and she would probably set her alarm, go to bed and then wake up tomorrow four minutes before her flight left, panic, and forget everything from her pants to her sound equipment.

She felt instantly better as she clicked on the music and let her latest mix overwhelm her senses. Her brain clicked into to mix mode and she began to listen for any little imperfection as she resolutely headed toward the kitchen.

Why hadn't life become like the future always looked in movies and TV? This was the twenty-first century; food should be in pill form by now. Someone was slacking.

She just stood for a while, glaring at the room at large.

The first thing she was going to do when she got to Atlanta was buy enough TV dinners and Pop Tarts to last her all of her freshman year.

She opened the fridge and glanced through it but nothing caught her eye so she turned and threw open the cupboards. Automatically she looked up to her super secret hiding spot up behind the vitamins no one ever took and the discarded cans of peas and carrots. Usually that was where she kept all of the good stuff that her mother never wanted her to have - like the aforementioned PopTarts. She was pretty sure the pot had run dry, though. She was pretty sure that Conner had cleaned it out the last time he had come over. You know, before that whole Hayden thing had set their high school long best-friendship on fucking fire.

She rolled her eyes and started back to the living room, clicking on another mix; her fingers still itching for her laptop.

She was back ten minutes later, staring at the kitchen again, willing it to reveal it's secrets.

There had to be something good.

Actually. Now that she thought about it, maybe there were still a few Twinkies in the box up there. Conner didn't like Twinkies. So maybe? She wasn't sure but a Twinkie dinner was definitely preferable to anything she was going to cook and the chance of a fire was far less significant.

A little more enthusiastic about life she grabbed the rickety old chair from the living room, the one that no one ever sat in but was always there, ready for any brave soul who was willing to use it as a step stool; which did happen a lot since, along with shitty parenting, her mother had also given her a serious lack of height.

The chair wobbled a little as she tossed it in front of the cupboard but she barely noticed. She always used this chair to get up there and yeah, it always looked like you were about to play a game with Jigsaw when you got on it, but she had never actually fallen and that was what mattered. She was fully prepared to not judge the chair off of how it looked. Come on, she hated when other people did that to her. She hated it when people assumed what she liked or disliked, cared about or could do based on the fact that she had a few tattoos and piercings – and had a slight problem with resting bitch face. So. Who was she to judge and therefore not use the chair? She smirked a little to herself as she hopped up; letting out a small yelp and grabbing the swinging cupboard door to steady herself when she nearly lost her balance.

See. She was good. She was okay. She totally had this.

The chair let out a loud groan, loud enough that she heard it over her blasting music and she froze, precariously balanced and having to do a little twisting, flailing shimmy in the air to remain upright. Pulling one side of her headphones away, she listened but the ancient chair stayed steady and quiet so she shrugged and reached up, going up onto her tiptoes.

She wasn't totally sure what happened then. All she knew was that she heard a small and yet so definable crrrreeeeeeeeekkkkkk from the chair and she yelped. Positive that the chair was about to break she pivoted midair, her arms flailing, trying to hurriedly step down - or maybe she had just slipped on an invisible banana peel or something; she didn't know. All she knew was that she had thrown her weight one way or the other and suddenly the floor was rushing at her. She had a moment to think about just how hard the floor looked before everything went black.

"Becs! Oh my god! Beca! Shit! Beca! Wake up!"

She felt soft fingers running over her stomach, rubbing warm circles into it, shaking her, and she let out a groan. She had no idea where she was but whatever she was lying on was so not comfortable. The fingers felt nice though. Beca tried to pull her eyes open and failed; they were far too heavy as though she had been asleep for a week or out with the flu. She let out another groan and tried to roll over. She couldn't quite make it but those same soft hands gently pushed and she flipped onto her stomach, thankful for the cool under her cheek.

Was she on the floor right now? The hell?

"Why am I on the floor?" One eye blearily cracked open and then the other and settled on, "What the shit?" She registered two things in very quick succession; one being that the woman perched over her and straddling her hips was hot, startlingly hot; and two, she had no idea who the hell she was. She shoved backward, away from the stranger and jumped to her feet, wobbling and trying to find her center of gravity again. The world swam and, oh Jesus, for a moment she thought she was going to go back down. She hung precariously off of the counter, pressing her fingers into her eyes. "Fuck. Who the fuck are you? Why the fuck - why the fuck are you in my kitchen?"

The woman, who she had just shoved off of her, had landed with a yelp and a light grunt on her butt. Now she sat back, a devilish twinkle in her shockingly blue eyes, "Hi!" She said in a breathy voice, "You're okay! Well, you look okay. Are you okay?"

Beca didn't like it. She didn't like that look at all.

There was a woman, a totally random fucking woman in her house! In her kitchen, where she was totally alone! Crap! Glancing around she grabbed the first thing she could, whipping it out in front of her and brandishing the whisk like a sword. "Dude! Who are you?" She shook the whisk menacingly at the woman. She wasn't sure what she could really do with a whisk but she could get inventive if she needed to. She let out a menacing growl and flicked it a few times, just to make her unspoken point. Watch out lady, this thing would suck if it got caught in your hair! You might even have to cut it out! Yeeeeah, watch it. Don't want to fuck up that stupid-gorgeous hair of yours!

The woman's large eyes slowly, carefully and amusedly rolled to the whisk being pointed at her and then back to Beca, her eyebrows rising.

To Beca's annoyance, she felt herself blush slightly. "I uh - hey! What are you - get back down there!" Beca's grip tightened on the kitchen tool as the woman rose, her free hand slapping around on the counter behind her trying to find something a little more intimidating. When she only came up with a hot pad she gave up and settled on a death glare.

The woman just stood there, hands on her hips, looking like she was biting back a laugh, "You just want me on my knees, don't you Becs?"

Beca's mouth opened but instead of speaking she just spluttered. Ooookay, crazy lady, whatever that means! The woman's lightly pinked lips opened and Beca, still a little unsteady bumped into the counter behind her, all but scooting up it when the stranger took a step toward her, "Back up! Whoa! Back up, lady!"

"Beca. What are you going to do with a whisk?"

She frowned, feeling slightly ineffectual but like hell she was going to let anyone know that! "You don't know!" She cried sharply, boldly shoving her chin forward in a pathetic attempt to punk the stranger, "Maybe I have some mad whisk skills that you don't know about! Or – Or-" She wasn't doing this whole intimidating-don't-fuck-with-me thing very well. Maybe she should just relax and let her born-with-it bitch face do the talking for her. Only she couldn't, far too tense as she watched the woman for any movement.

The woman flipped her vibrantly red hair over her shoulder and smirked as though Beca had just said a good and slightly inappropriate joke.

Weren't crazy people who wandered into your house supposed to be dirty - or smelly - or - from what she could see this chic wasn't - and she smelled like flowers and - "Dude!" Beca suddenly shouted; the whisk nearly flying from her hand in shock, "Where are your clothes?" So she might not be dirty or smelly but naked was definitely on the crazy checklist, it was definitely a warning sign. She felt her cheeks going suddenly red hot. How had she not realized that this woman, whoever the hell, was standing there in just her underwear? In very skimpy underwear! In very skimpy, really hot underwear! In very skimpy, really hot, black and white spotted lacy underwear that made Beca's skin itch just looking at it.

This person must be crazy.

….Or maybe Beca was crazy…

This chic must have wandered in off the street…and taken off her clothes…and she must be crazy. Yup. Totally made sense.

"Beca -"

Beca had all but leapt up into the counter, spinning the whisk in the air at her as her legs shot straight out, ready to defend her as best they could, "Whoa! Stay back! Stay - you just stay over there!"

The woman stopped, her eyes rolling a little and her hands going back onto her hips. She didn't say anything but her head tilted to the side as though waiting for Beca to decide what she would be doing next.

Beca frowned because in truth - when it came to this little standoff she was the one in the corner...with a whisk…also, she weighed about 103 pounds - she wasn't going to get very far in this face off. "Where are your clothes?" Beca asked the ceiling because she was having a hard time focusing on anything else. Cut her some slack, she was eighteen and the farthest she had gotten with a girl was a kiss. She had literally never seen one this up close and personal with this little on. It was distracting. She was trying not to look at her smooth thighs or the way her belly button was a perfect little circle. She just wasn't going to look at her at all. That was the way to play this. Crap, only, the thing was that she had to look at her because she was a crazy woman in her kitchen and when she did that then her eyes moved to her thighs, her hips and -

Don't look, don't look, don't look. She scrunched her eyes in the effort of focusing, don't look, don't look, damn it! She was looking. Okay, don't look, don't look. She tried hard to focus in the general area of her face but slowly, as though they had weights on them her eyes began to drop.

Oh my god, boobs were everything she had hoped they would be. Well, boobs that weren't her own. You know, other girl boobs. She wished, for a second, that she could, you know see –

She wasn't sure how long she had been staring at the swells of warm creamy skin just above the lacy bra when she heard the woman give a small, pointed throat clear.

"Whaa-" she jumped, her hands slapping over her eyes, "Sorry. I'm sorry. My bad."

"Beca, you don't have to,"

She let out a shout and thrust the whisk again as she jumped, scooting so far up the counter that she was able to bring her legs up too. Curled in a ball in the corner. Great job, Beca. "Why are you in my house?"

And the woman was just standing there, bold as day as though she wasn't standing mostly naked in a stranger's house.

Crazy.

Suddenly the redheaded stranger couldn't handle it anymore. She let out a laugh, "I don't know, Becs, where are my clothes?"

"Uuuuh, what?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you where my clothes are? You're the one that made me this way. Though," the woman looked down at the lace, "I'm not complaining. And clearly, neither are you!" She gave a large smile and a wink.

Beca frowned, the whisk in her hand wilting a bit, "Um, run that by me again?"

She gave a little huff, a few strands of her hair rising and falling, "How does your head feel?" Worry crashed across her face again as she remembered, "Oh god, does it hurt? Are you okay? You were harder to wake up than I expected."

Beca let out a yelp and one of her legs went back out into the air to stop random-lady-from-crazyville in her tracks. When it seemed as though she was going to stay over there, she frowned. "Um? No? Why would it? What?"

Looking relieved the woman sighed, "It will. When you wake up I mean."

"Oh. So crazy. You are crazy then. Awesome. Good to know."

To her surprise all she got back was another laugh and it was so sweet, so warm that Beca felt her insides go all gooey.

What the hell was wrong with her?

Of course I would be the one to think the crazy lady is hot. Just when I think I can't sink any lower!

"Just out of, you know, curiosity, how long have you been crazy, maybe? And backup question, how crazy are you? 'Cuz, like, I'm not sure if I should expect, I don't know, you to run at me suddenly or -"

"I'm not crazy, Beca!"

Beca's thoughtful frown grew, "I guess you couldn't exactly tell me if you were crazy," she mumbled more to herself than to the woman.

At this though the woman let out another titter of laughter, "I'm not crazy! And neither are you. You just hit your head."

"Right. Uh, totally, okay, sure." Her free hand reached for her back pocket, searching out her phone. Cops. Cops would be good. Or like - was there a number you could call that would bring that special van you saw in old cartoons? Like, did 1-800-crazy-van exist?

Only, shit, her phone wasn't in her pocket. It was - she let her eyes move around the room, snapping to the floor, the woman's stomach, the counter, the woman's thigh, across the room, the woman's breast. Finally she saw her phone a few feet away across the floor, still attached to her headphones. They must have gone flying when she - "Wait."

A grin bloomed on the stranger's lips as Beca searched her brain. She had fallen. That's right, she had fallen off the chair and - she let out a yelp and brandished the whisk as the woman took another step forward, "Dude! Can you freaking stay put?! Over there! Stay! Over! There!"

Openly amused the woman's hands closed softly on her wrist, pulling the whisk away.

"Your hands are so warm," Beca mumbled and then immediately wondered why the fuck she had just said that.

The woman just smiled and put the whisk down on the counter beside them. Stiff as a board, not wanting to make any sudden movements, Beca only watched herself be pulled off the counter and the soft, small hands of the woman smooth her shirt against her stomach. "You hit your head."

"I hit my head." Beca parroted back, a little dizzy.

"That's right. You hit your head." The woman frowned, concern back on her face.

"So, uh okay, but I hate to break it to you but my head feels fine. So..."

"I know." At this close range Beca could see the way her little nose scrunch accentuated her laugh lines and made her eyes twinkle; sending the word 'adorable' through Beca's addled brain, "But it won't when you wake up. I guess that's the price for this time though, right?"

"Time?"

"Yup," the redhead chirruped, a grin on her face again, "this time that we get to have together."

"Riiiiight." Beca straightened fully, realizing too late that doing that brought her closer to randomcrazylady and her random and clearly crazy face. "I'm just gonna-" she tried to step around her to grab her phone but the woman didn't move and Beca wasn't sure she was willing to push by her.

"You fell, Becs." She gave a little shrug, "But you're going to be alright, I promise. You're just a little - out of it right now."

"Uh-huh." She blinked a few times, realizing something. "How do you know my name?"

"Of course I know your name, silly, I told you. You made me."

And that was enough crazy lady talk for the day. "Look," Beca grunted, still trying to find a way to get around this random woman, "Even if that were true, I don't have time for that, okay? I don't have time to have 'made' you, or whatever and I don't have time for a head injury. I have a flight in the morning and I can't miss it. 'Kay?" She gave a small tongue click, her eye dropping into a sarcastic wink as she tried to scoot again. She pushed, her arm brushing the woman's and she recoiled back from the soft skin, slamming hard into the counter again. "Ow." She glanced at the woman and wondered if she was doing this on purpose. Wait. Was she getting closer? Was she imagining that she was getting closer? Nope. She let out a small laugh and tried to take a step back but there was nowhere to go, she was trapped back in the corner as the woman took another small step toward her.

"Not anymore, Becs. I mean, you will," she shook her head laughing, "of course you will when you wake up but for now," she reached forward and gently ran a finger across the scoop neckline of Beca's tank.

The touch turned Beca's brain to mush as well as freaked her the hell out, making her want to claw her way past her and run for it while also wanting to purr.

She let out a small awkward laugh, pressing herself a little further into the corner, "That's nice," she muttered. She didn't like the way that this woman was smiling. She didn't like the way her eyes were glittering.

"Stop looking so nervous, Becs. We," The woman ran her finger over her shoulder, sliding it under a strap, lifting it and letting it fall with a snap, making Beca jump and drop the whisk, "are going to have so much fun together."