AN: I own none of these characters obviously.

Enjoy.

Waking up with a shitty hangover was new to Beca Mitchell.—didn't mean she would party any less, though.

Running to the en-suite bathroom attached to her bedroom, she knelt down and puked for what seemed like forever. She was under the impression she puked a week worth of alcohol. Damn, last night must have been fun, she thought to herself as she flushed the toilet and held onto it to get up, her knees hurting from bending for so long.

Apart from vague memories of herself breaking her own record in drowning down tequila shots, she did not remember anything really.—Getting together with her gang, the close-knit group of ladies from her college years, was something they tried to do at least once a month.

Walking back into her bedroom, she grabbed her sunglasses from the nightstand near her bed and smiled when she saw the painkillers and the bottle of water. Drunk me is such a darling. She winced and immediately regretted the smile.

Beca sat down, massaging her temples after taking a pill and hoping that her headache would magically vanish, but gave up too quickly and got up to do something about her hangover. She took her a navy blue oversized sweatshirt that was laying on the floor and wore it over her shirt. (Yes, she was still her clothes from the night before. She was impressed she even made it to bed.)

A blissful shower right after coffee, she told herself.

The smell of coffee brewing was beginning to fill the air when she placed her sunglasses on the counter and held her head with both hands.

Sighing, she removed her hands and grabbed a glass and filled it with tap water. As she was bringing the glass to her lips, she noticed a body… A man? Laying on her couch? What the actual fuck?

Beca made her way to the stranger, who was having a dream apparently since he was smiling in his sleep. Idiot, she huffed as she tried to wake him up by slightly poking him in the shoulder which didn't work so she cleared her throat and used her foot to shake him this time.

"Hey, wake up!" she yelled the 'hey' and winced as her skull felt like someone hit it with a hammer.

Damn you, hangover. Ugh, I get it alcohol is bad, body. Why do you have to do this? As if my liver is not enough!

As the stranger sat up yawning and rubbing his eyes, Beca eyed him and wondered if she should have brought a knife from the kitchen in case he turned out to be a psychopath or something.

Realizing he was half naked, she took the pleasure of drinking in his sight and soon forgot about the knife. Toned body, not too muscular, and really nice biceps. She was ogling and she knew it. When her eyes fall on part of his that is hidden beneath the jeans he was wearing, she brought the glass of water she was tightly holding to her mouth and took a sip.

Shit! He caught her staring and he was grinning. Who wakes up grinning?

"Good morning," he said to her as he stood up.

"Who are you?" Beca asked as she took a step back, trying to stop eye-fucking him—it was quite difficult when he was so close and happened to have a physic she found attractive.

Jesus, it's ten in the morning and you are hung-over. Get your shit together, woman, she mentally yelled at herself.

Still smiling, the stranger extended his hand and said, "I'm Jesse. Jesse Swanson."

Hesitantly, she shook his hand. "Okay, why the fuck are you sleeping on my couch, Jesse Swanson?" she questioned.

"Um, you asked me to drive you home because I and I quote 'look the least rapist looking guy'," he casually recounted.

Beca kept looking into his eyes, trying to make sense of what he just said, her headache making it a little difficult to focus.

The coffeemaker stopped, cutting off the stare-off that was going on between the two. Beca trying to act all tough, giving him her scary death glares and Jesse smiling at her like a goofball and staring at her as if she were a unicorn.

As she walked towards the kitchenette, she felt his eyes on her. "Stop staring, it's creepy," she called out which was rich coming from her of all people.

She heard him chuckle.

Getting a mug for herself, she glanced as he sat down on a stool.

"Wanna a mug of coffee?" she wondered, showing him some hospitality.

"Yes, please. And some food would be nice too." He grinned cheekily at her.

Tiptoeing to get a cereal box from an upper shelf, she murmured and shook her head, "Fucking Stacie."

"Here you go." She handed him the cereal box and clocked a puzzled look on his face.

"Um, you can help yourself with milk. The jug is in the fridge," she informed while filling a couple of mugs with coffee.

"Thanks." He paused as he pulled the milk jug from the fridge and put on the counter. "You know, when you asked me to drive you home, I thought what you said to me was some weird ass code for sex," he shared with her.

"I am deeply sorry for the disappointment," she said sarcastically, bringing the coffee to her lips while checking him out as picked the jug up to pour milk into the cereal bowl.

"Would you mind if I fixed us breakfast?" he wondered.

"Not at all. Knock yourself out, stranger." She shrugged.

Flashing her a cheeky smile, Jesse proceeded to look around for ingredients. "You are about to eat the best pancakes ever known to mankind," he claimed.

"Can't wait for the foodgasm," she continued in the same deadpan tone.

Yeah defiantly nice biceps, wait a minute! "Why are you half naked?"

"Well," he exhaled. "You begged me to take my shirt off yesterday to worship my body— your words not mine— and, being the gentleman, I am I obliged," he said as he tilted his head, shifting his attention to her.

"It didn't go far though, you puked on me." He winked and began whisking the pancakes batter.

At the sound of her choking on her coffee when she heard his reply, Jesse started to laugh.

"I'm messing with you. Nothing happened between us, yesterday." He took a sip of his coffee. "But you did puke on me." He grimaced.

"Jesus, you got me worried for a second there. Ugh, the thought of potentially catching some STD just gave me a mini-heart attack." She shivered.

He snorted. "Don't take this the wrong way, but why aren't you freaking out? Not the first time you ask a stranger to drive you home?"

"If must know when I'm drunk I tend to make weird calls so I'm not surprised," Beca sighed as she held her head with her free hand.

"Bad headache, huh?" Jesse noted, sympathy showing in his voice.

"I think it's the worst one yet."

"Sorry to hear that," he apologetically said.

Comfortable silent fell in the room as he cooked the pancakes while she suffered.

"So where's your girlfriend?" Jesse asked casually as he took a seat next to her after placing the fresh batch of pancakes in front of her.

"Come again?" Beca said, lifting her head that at that point was against the counter.

"I'm asking you about your girlfriend?"

Beca frowned picking up the fork Jesse put and dove into the pancakes.

"Stacie? You mentioned her earlier, mainly to yourself," he continued, smiling at the sight of Beca eating. She had a passion for food, he could tell from the enthusiasm she showed as she ate.

Beca reached for the glass of orange juice he also put for to wash down the pancakes. "God, no. She's a friend of mine who happens to be my roommate and keeps on placing stuff high around the apartment so that I have a hard time getting to them. She finds it hilarious."

"Sometimes I wonder why I'm friends with her or any of my friends for the matter," she mumbled. "These." She pointed at pancakes. "Are really good."

"Told you they are the best." He shrugged. "And I can tell you why you're friends with Stacie," Jesse said confidently.

"Oh, really?" Beca challenged in amusement.

"Yeah." He nodded. "It's because you're a weirdo."

"And, what gave you the impression?" She rested her cheek against the palm of her hand after she put her elbow on the counter, very amused with the conversation.

"Well, you were into A Cappella, which says enough about a person."

"I told you about that?" she worried, fearing she slipped and gave him her social security number—once she got comfortable with a person, drunk Beca Mitchell overshared a lot.

He nodded.

"What else did I tell you?" she questioned.

"Well, you sang more than you spoke, to be honest. Solid pipes, by the way." He pointed at her with the spoon he had in hand. "You mentioned your glorious days in A Cappella when I complimented your vocals."

She was relieved because she didn't tell him personal details and silently thanked God for blacking out and saving her from feeling embarrassed over the show she gave him.

"Hello," Beca mumbled, picking up the phone, through a mouth full.

"My favorite bitch, I'm just calling to make sure you're awake and dressed, I'm coming up."

Beca chuckled. "Yeah, as if me being naked ever stopped you from storming in. Your gay is showing embrace it. I wouldn't love you any less." She heard her roommate coo on the other end.

"I love you, too, Mitchell. Tried rooting for our team, didn't like it much. Nothing better than a good man meat and-"

"-Okay, I'm gonna stop you before it gets graphic. I'm having breakfast."

Stacie laughed. "Okay. Let me re-phrase what I said before we got off track. I'm calling you to make sure whoever you hooked up with left. I hate the awkwardness that follows one night stands, especially when I didn't take part in it."

"You slut."

"Slut is my middle name," Stacie was quick to counter.

The second she hung up the phone, Beca proceeded to unbutton her shirt, revealing her black bra. Jesse tried not to look at her boobs and failed.

"Stop staring, perv," she called out and stood up. She ran a hand through Jesse's hair making it even messier. "Play along." She patted his cheek and sat back unaware of the fact that she shoved her breasts in his face when she got up to mess his hair.

A few minutes later, a tall, busty brunette walked into the apartment and threw her keys as well as a handbag on the coach.

"Hey, Stace. Meet my lovely one night stand. He stuck around for breakfast. I say he's a keeper," Beca said, patting Jesse on the shoulder.

"Hmm." Was all Jesse heard from Stacie whose eyes traveled between himself and Beca.

"Yeah, I am!" he exclaimed, remembering that Beca told him to play along, and slid his arm around her waist.

"Fat Amy did say you left with a pretty hot guy," Stacie noted, eyeing Jesse.

"Fat Amy?" Jesse echoed in confusion. Who nicknames their 'friend' Fat Amy!

"Hey, stop eye fucking him, Stace," Beca said, faking annoyance with her friend.

Walking up to them, Stacie pulled her hair into a lazy bun.

"Nice try, Mitchell." Stacie took a sip from Beca's glass of juice. "But you do not look freshly fucked, neither does-" She motioned with her hand to Jesse.

"Jesse," Jesse said as he removed his arm from around Beca.

"Forgot that you're a sex expert. Worth a shot." Beca shrugged.

Turning her attention back to Jesse, Beca added, "So, stranger, it was really pleasant meeting you. Thanks for not raping nor robbing me. I'm gonna go get a shower and if you're smart you would take my advice and get the hell out of here."

She glanced at Stacie who was pouring herself a mug of coffee. "Trust me you wouldn't wanna be around her by yourself," she whispered.

"Heard you, Mitchell," Stacie mused.

"It warms my heart that you are watching out for me," Jesse said as he placed a hand on his heart and pretended to wipe a tear.

"Don't read much into it, weirdo," Beca replied and removed her sweatshirt.

"Here, wear this." She handed him the navy sweatshirt. "Sorry about your shirt," she apologized when he took it.

"Did I just hear Mitchell apologize? What have you done to my friend, stranger?" Stacie questioned.

"Shut up, Stace," Beca said, making a face, and hopped off the stool.

"What's your name? In case, I need file a lawsuit for assault. You know, to state facts." He smiled when he saw a hint of smile on her lips

"Beca," she told him.

AN: Let me know what you think. If I suck at this don't be shy (or mean) tell me, I accept criticism.

Okay, bye.