A/N: Co-written with (and entirely based upon the fantastic idea from) my amazing girlfriend ^_^ Feedback is awesome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Pitch Perfect or any of its characters.

Beca's never been one for early mornings.

The only thing that she is willing to stumble out of bed at such an ungodly hour for is her dog. Commander Shepard. (What? She's a video game nerd and was not about to pass up the opportunity to name her German Shepherd something so fitting, no matter how lame it might be). He needs fresh air daily and, even though it pains Beca to leave the warmth of her duvet burrito, she has decided that early mornings are a much, much more bearable time to walk a dog.

There are no children for one thing. No annoying schoolkids hanging around the park, playing tag and screaming each other. No teens making out in the forest or playing their shitty music out loud like everyone wants to hear it. No college kids hiding out behind the toilets to smoke pot.

It's too early for the mother and baby walking period, too. If there's anything Beca hates more than schoolchildren, it's babies. Ugh. She shudders at the thought.

No. None of that.

Beca goes at the perfect time. It may be early but it's empty and peaceful and calm which is all she wants from her dog walking trip, really.

Beca muses over her deductive skills proudly as she wanders along her usual route through the trees, checking on Shep briefly and adjusting the volume on her headphones. He pants up at her happily, staying close to her side as always.

Absently, Beca starts tapping on her fingers along her thigh in time to the mix that's currently playing. She's been experiencing a bit of mixer's block lately but this latest track shows a definite improvement. A small crease forms between Beca's eyebrows as she scrutinises the beat. It might need the slightest of adjustments, maybe slow down the bassline a fraction or add a –

Beca's pulled from her thoughts suddenly as Shep starts barking and a force rams its way into the back of her legs, almost knocking her over. She gasps and spins around.

"What the hell –?"

Another dog has appeared out of nowhere in her distraction and is running around her ankles excitedly, yowling and head-butting Beca's thighs. It's a Doberman – a breed already well-known as being intimidating and this dog is huge. It seems playful rather than vicious but Beca still steps away warily. Shep jumps in delight and the two dogs begin to chase each other happily, bounding in circles around Beca until she gets dizzy watching them.

Fucking hell. This is just typical. The entire park is empty bar maybe a few other people and, of course, Beca is the one who gets bombarded by a random dog thanks to some stupid stranger who can't control their pet.

"Oh my God, stop! Commander!"

Luckily, Shep is well trained and has always responded to Beca's voice – he obediently trots over to her and waits for further instructions.

"Good boy," she praises, crouching down to scratch behind his ears. Beca pulls off her headphones and rests them around her neck.

The other dog runs over as well, sniffing around Beca's feet, trying to lick her face, tail wagging fiercely. Okay, so maybe it's not as aggressive as it looks from a distance.

"Hey," she murmurs, stroking the dog's head so it doesn't feel left out, "calm down. Where did you come from?"

Glancing around, Beca sees nothing but empty fields and trees wavering in the wind. No sign of any people. Usually she'd be ecstatic by that news but now she can only grimace.

If there's no one around where has this dog come from? And what is she supposed to do with it?

"Maybe they'll come looking for you," Beca says to the dog, her tone thick with concern. Someone wouldn't have abandoned their dog in the park, would they?

Beca tugs on the dog's collar slightly to see it better. The tag reads Kommissar. What the hell sort of name is that? she shakes her head agitatedly. Beca flips it around to read the back and, thank God, there's a phone number on there.

"Where is your owner, Kommissar?" she questions with a sigh. The dog barks enthusiastically at the sound of its name.

Beca stands back up, checking on the dogs.

Shep has gotten to his feet and is pacing bouncily, unable to sit still. Beca rolls her eyes, unsurprised by his impatience.

"Go play," she allows, watching as the two dogs begin to race around Beca, colliding and nudging each other, their excitement audible in the heavy breathing.

Kommissar seems pretty well trained so Beca doesn't mind leaving them to play.

Beca waits a few minutes, allowing the dogs to let off steam and giving the Doberman's absentee owner a chance to come and collect her, before deciding to call.

Beca calls Kommissar over to retrieve the number.

"Sit," she orders, not sure how the dog with respond. Luckily, Kommissar seems as well trained as Shep and does as she's told. "Good girl. Now stay."

Pulling her phone out of her pocket, Beca reads the number, types into her phone and hits the dial button. As it rings, she squints further into the distance, still completely puzzled as to whereabouts this dog has come from.

The phone rings out to voicemail so Beca groans and redials.

"Have not got time for this shit," she mutters irritably under her breath as the ringing continues. She decides if it goes through to voicemail again she's going to leave a stern message, outlining the responsibilities that come with walking a dog like oh, you know, not letting the fucking thing run off and harass strangers –

The line connects and Beca gaps excitedly.

"Hey, hello?" she speaks urgently.

Unfortunately, there is no reply. Just a lot of background noise and rustling and – is that someone singing? Awesome. Just perfect. Kommissar's owner must have leant on the answer button without realising.

"Are you kidding me?" Beca hisses, mostly to herself. "I've got your dog!" she yells down the phone but, naturally, there is no response.

The crackly singing gets a little clearer the longer she stays on the line. Beca listens in confusion. The voice is distinctly female; naturally high but wavering enough to hit a whole spectrum of notes. Beca can't deny that she's surprised – she had been expecting a guy, probably slightly older with too much muscle, bad tattoos and facial hair. Girls didn't tend to own Dobermans named Kommissar.

But then again, Beca is aware that she is walking alongside an Alsatian called Commander Shepard so is hardly in a position to judge.

The singing continues and, as mad as Beca is with this girl for interrupting her quiet walk, she can't help noticing how good of a singer the stranger is. Even though the distorted and terrible quality phone line, Beca can tell that there's talent in the voice.

Why is the girl singing anyway? Her dog is missing she should be concerned!

Kommissar barks and Beca returns to reality with a sigh, ending the call.

"Now what?" she frowns down at the dogs who are pacing around her feet.

She's just about to try and redial the stupid singing stranger – what else can she do? She can't abandon the thing, as tempting as it may be – when she hears –

"Is that – ?" she mumbles, turning to the sound.

The same voice that she had overheard on the phone is unexpectedly audible from behind her, faint at first but getting closer. The singing is unmistakeably the same.

A blur of pink slowly approaches; the girl has earbuds in and is singing, completely unaware of her surroundings.

Before Beca can yell at her to stop singing for God's sake come and collect your animal, the girl seems to notice Kommissar and changes direction, heading towards Beca. Kommissar spots her owner too and jumps up in glee, running forwards.

The girl crouches down to greet the excited dog and Beca watches with a scowl.

"Hello puppy," the girl greets in a cheery voice, pulling her earbuds out. "Where have you been? Have you been on an adventure round the park, huh?" She seems perfectly pleased and calm – not even remotely concerned that her dog has been missing for God knows how long.

"Dude!" Beca exclaims in irritation. "I've been calling you and your dog's been with me, where the hell have you been? You can't just –"

Beca stomps forward, one hundred percent ready to continue her rant – like, honestly, how hard is it to just control your dog? But the second she takes an angry step, the redheaded girl turns around and gets back to her feet, jogging over to where Beca is standing.

And Beca kind of accidentally forgets how to breathe.

Because shit.

"No, no you're right," the girl shakes her head, stopping when she's about a foot away. "I shouldn't have let her off the lead. I just got so into my playlist – I made a new one just for dog walking it's so catchy. She always comes back to me anyway," she waves a dismissive hand, reaching down to pet her dog. "Isn't that right, Kommissar?" she coos. Looking back up to Beca, she adds, "I'm Chloe, by the way."

Beca stares gormlessly the entire time Chloe is talking, forcing herself to close her mouth.

Chloe's a little taller than Beca, her red hair pulled up into a messy bun on the crown of her head and a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead indicating that she's been jogging. She's clad in a pink sports bra, showing off her rock-hard abs and toned arms, and three quarter length yoga pants, which are ridiculously tight.

Beca's seen pretty girls before. But Chloe's not pretty. She's… something else. Beca's never come across someone with such blue eyes or such a perfect body or adorably mischievous smile.

Get it together, Mitchell, Beca scorns herself, shaking her head.

"Beca," she replies, hoping that her voice comes out smoothly and nowhere near as shakily as it feels.

"Nice to meet you Beca," Chloe smiles widely, tilting her head to one side like she's a curious puppy herself. "Kommissar wasn't too much trouble was she? She's usually a good girl."

"Uh," Beca stutters. All the infuriated comments she has been saving up suddenly dissolve on her tongue. In fact, every bitchy thing she had originally wanted to say gets lost somewhere and instead she finds herself smiling slightly. "No. No trouble."

What is she doing? Honestly, it has been inconvenient as hell having to mind this random dog when all she wants to do is get on with walking Shep and get home so she can finish her latest mix.

"Your dog is so cute," Chloe chirps, reaching down to stroke Shep. "Hello baby," she grins as Shep pants and learns into her hand appreciatively.

Beca clears her throat.

"He's actually pretty badass," she corrects nonchalantly, "He used to be a police dog."

That's total bullshit and the second the words have left her mouth, Beca regrets them. Why is she making shit up about her dog? If that's the best she can do to try and impress Chloe she really needs to work on her skills of seduction.

"That's really cool!" Chloe marvels, blue eyes widening. "Kommissar is a show dog. That's her show name," she explains proudly. "You're a clever little thing, aren't you?" she directs down to the dog nuzzling against her leg.

Little? Beca wonders if Chloe has any concept of how big and, objectively, terrifying her dog looks.

"Huh," Beca nods. "That explains her obedience I guess."

"Oh yeah, totes. She's completely trained. I wouldn't let her off the lead unless I knew she could be controlled," Chloe reassures.

All of the judging thoughts Beca had originally had about Chloe being airheaded disappear. She seems a lot smarter than Beca had first credited.

"Ooh, what are you listening to?" Chloe asks, noticing Beca's headphones and leaning forward in intrigue.

Before Beca can respond, Chloe pulls one of the padded speakers to her ear while they remain around Beca's neck. Chloe's face is right next to Beca's as she listens to the mix playing; so close their cheeks brush. Beca swallows, inhaling Chloe's flowery perfume, and tries not to stare at the redhead's perfectly parted lips which are just next to hers.

Chloe closes her eyes and sways a little, tapping her foot in time to the music she listens. After a few seconds she removes the headphones and moves back a step, nodding.

"That's a really cool mix! Who is it?"

Beca clears her throat, still slightly flushed from the close contact.

"Oh, um. I made it."

"You made it?" Chloe parrots in surprise.

"Yeah," Beca just shrugs.

"Beca!" Chloe gapes as if they're old friends. "That's amazing! You are seriously talented."

Beca dismisses her comment, her stomach flipping pathetically at the sound of her name on Chloe's lips.

"I heard you singing," she brings up to change the subject. "You're really good."

"You did?" Chloe's eyes light up. "I love to sing. I've been singing Torn lately while I jog – do you know Natalie Imburglia?"

Beca nods.

"I love Torn for when I'm running. You know the bit –" she takes a shallow breath and flawlessly sings a bar, "I'm all out of faith, that bit? It's perfect. It helps me to breathe deeply which is good for jogging. Like," Chloe inhales and exhales a few times, varying in pace, "you see how my chest moves? It helps me regulate my breaths."

Beca just nods more, her throat growing dry. The noises Chloe's making are undeniably sexual. And asking Beca to look at her chest was a terrible idea because now all Beca can focus on is Chloe's amazing rack.

But she nods anyway, as if she is listening to what Chloe is saying.

"Yeah."

"I sing to Kommissar, too," Chloe continues, oblivious to Beca's embarrassing arousal, "she loves it. I find that she actually pays more attention to me when I sing my requests," explains, her tone becoming serious as if she's reciting scientific findings. "Do you want me to show you?"

"Show me what?" Beca blinks, attempting to snap out of her daze. "No, no, it's okay. But thanks."

Chloe smiles brightly, seeming unoffended by Beca's dim-witted state.

"Maybe singing to animals isn't for everyone," Chloe allows.

Beca laughs lightly.

"I think you might be right."

It's so unlike Beca to stop and talk to any kind of stranger in a park, no matter how attractive and perky and talented they may be, yet she honestly doesn't mind. She isn't annoyed that this is taking up her morning or that Shep is probably getting impatient or that her bed is waiting back at home.

You're getting soft, she thinks to herself in defeat.

She can't help it. Chloe is so fucking hot.

"Do you live locally? We could totally do dog-walking together!" Chloe suggests abruptly. "I get super bored jogging the same route alone every day."

Beca stammers a little.

"Oh-uh, yeah? I mean yeah, sure. Cool," she nods, maybe a little too enthusiastically. "Do you come around her a lot then?"

"No, actually, I just switched. My old park was getting too samey. You know?"

"I completely understand," Beca responds, although she has no clue what Chloe is going on about.

"Our dogs seem to get along, anyway," Chloe smiles like a proud mother. "Kommissar's really friendly."

Beca has to stop herself from laughing. What is it they say about dogs and their owners being alike?

"I've noticed."

"Do you have any other pets?" Chloe asks.

"Um, no. I mean –" Beca is about to ask whether the spider living in her front yard that she talks to regularly and has called Sidley counts, but then realises how mental that makes her sound. It would probably sound even stupider if she also mentioned that she's pretty scared of spiders and only named him in the first place in order make him seem less terrifying. "No," she clarifies. "No other pets."

Beca coughs acutely aware of how awkward she's being. Dammit why can't she just be smooth for once in her life?

"Oh okay," Chloe continues, chatty as ever and unaware of Beca's internal mortification. "Me too. I want a sugar glider, y'know the flying possums? But I've heard they try to mate with humans and that would make me kind of uneasy. Like, I just wouldn't feel comfortable around it knowing that it's thinking of me like some kind of sexual partner."

Beca snorts, shaking her head in amazement at the ridiculousness of Chloe's reasoning.

"I mean, fair enough," she shrugs in amusement.

Shep begins to yowl quietly, squashing his nose against Beca's calf to indicate his tedium. Beca knows it's unfair to make him wait for so long when all he wants is to finish his walk and get home for some lunch.

"Shh Shep," Beca says softly.

"Oh, am I keeping you?," Chloe questions, her eyebrows raising apologetically. "What am I talking about? Of course I am. I'm sorry, I'll leave you to get on with your day," she smiles.

Beca opens her mouth to protest but Chloe continues.

"Sorry for, y'know – I mean thanks. For watching Kommissar. I'll be more careful next time."

Beca rolls her eyes.

"It's not a big deal."

Kommissar cries up at Chloe as well. Both of the dogs are clearly bored.

"I should probably get going, anyway."

Beca's stomach drops. She doesn't want Chloe to go. She really, really doesn't want her to go.

But what can she do? Chloe is so far out of Beca's league it's laughable –

"Before you do," the words are falling out of Beca's mouth before she really register what's happening, "I was wondering if you wanted to – I was thinking we could – um –"

"You could show me some more of your mixes sometime," Chloe suggests with a flirtatious smirk. "And I can teach you breathing exercises. I'm really good with my mouth," she nods.

Beca chokes. "Uh. Right."

"It's your call. You've got my number," Chloe reminds Beca with a wink.

She fucking winks.

Beca's pretty sure it's the hottest thing she's ever seen.

"I'll see you soon, Beca," Chloe smiles triumphantly, placing her earbuds back in place and waving.

"Oh – kay," Beca says stupidly, watching as Chloe whistles to Kommissar and begins jogging away. Within seconds she's singing again and Beca can't help but laugh.

Chloe turns once to smile over her shoulder. Beca grins back.

And then the singing fades and Chloe rounds a corner, Kommissar at her heels. Then they're gone.

Beca stands unmoving for a little while, feeling slightly numb. Honestly what the hell even just happened?

Shep looks up at her, giving her a judging stare.

"Shut up. I played it cool," she insists.

She can practically hear Shep laughing at her as he pants.

Looking down at her phone, Beca adds Chloe's number to her phonebook and bites on her lower lip.

It's only then that it occurs to her. She's the one with Chloe's number. Which means that Beca is going to have to make the first call.

Well shit.

Beca chooses to complain about this to Shep for the entire duration of their walk home.