Work Text:
one
Chloe pauses on her way back from the kitchen, slightly confused and somewhat alarmed when she sees a silver of light emanating from under the door of Aubrey’s room. She knows that her best friend is spending the night in the library, too busy trying to finish her final thesis before the due date next week to return to their shared apartment just off-campus, so the fact that the light is on and she can hear someone moving inside means:
(a) Aubrey's returned home for the night without telling her. (Unlikely)
(b) They're being burgled. (Highly unlikely, seeing as they are both broke college students with nothing worth stealing.)
(c) Aubrey's lent her room out to someone to crash the night. (Probable, she recalls Aubrey saying something about having Beca work on the set here before slamming the door shut as she'd left.)
Then there’s a thump from inside the room and a very muffled “Fuck!”, so she knocks softly before pushing the door open, peeking curiously around before smiling at the sight that meets her eyes.
It is Beca – she is perched in Aubrey’s chair, clad in an oversized hoodie (Chloe recognises it as hers, she’d been looking for it everywhere for the past two days), her hair mussed up and tangled around the headphones which are dangling from her neck. She spots Chloe’s reflection immediately in the mirror that Aubrey keeps on her desk and spins around, her eyes widening as she takes in the senior’s appearance.
“Uhm, hi,” the freshman gulps nervously, her gaze flicking from Chloe’s face, to the ceiling, to the doorway, then back to Chloe’s face, very determinedly avoiding looking at the rest of the redhead’s body. Chloe’s smile widens, and she gestures to herself, plucking at the huge T-shirt that she wears to bed. She’s still pretty decent – it covers halfway up to her thighs, but Beca is already blushing, hard.
“You can look, y’know? I don’t mind. I’m pretty confident about all this.” She winks at the tiny brunette huddled in the chair, and she didn’t think that it was possible at first, but Beca flushes harder – even her ears are turning red. The younger girl opens her mouth to speak, but then no sound emits from her mouth. She’s gaping at Chloe like a goldfish, and the senior decides to take pity on her before she combusts, so she sits down on Aubrey’s bed and peeks at Beca’s laptop – the younger Bella is trying to mix something, and if the frustration that Chloe’s heard earlier before entering the room is something to go by, the mixing isn’t going well.
“Is this the set list for the finals?” She mumbles, reaching out to unplug the headphones out of the jack, ignoring the faint protest of “It’s not finished yet!” Beca stiffens slightly as their arms brush against each other’s, inhaling sharply when Chloe doesn’t pull away, choosing to rest her hand over the brunette’s instead.
“Play it,” she tells Beca, who wrinkles her nose, pouting at her – Chloe idly wonders if Beca knows that despite all her best efforts to seem badass, the younger girl appears to be more adorable than anything else most of the time. (She doesn’t have the heart to tell Beca that, though, it might crush her – besides, Chloe finds her attempts endearing, and doesn’t actually want her to stop anytime soon.) When the brunette doesn’t move, she sighs, leaning against her to click on the track, and Beca glowers, but it’s a half-hearted glare at best and there’s no real anger behind it, so Chloe beams at her, a self-satisfied grin as she nods along to the music.
It peters out at the end of Don’t You (Forget About Me) though, and Beca shrugs nervously, not meeting Chloe’s eyes.
“That’s about as far as I got, I know it’s not, like, good or anything, but I’m still working on it, I swear, I just – I need more time, I’ll get it done by – “
Chloe places her finger against Beca’s lips, cutting her rambling off abruptly, smiling as she watches the brunette go cross-eyed, staring down at her hand.
“Relax,” she murmurs. “It’s not going to work if you’re all stressed like this, you need to take a break.”
Beca scoots the chair backwards, away from Chloe, shaking her head. “I can’t, Aubrey only let me work in here because there’s no distractions, and she wants the set list by tomorrow, but I’m not even halfway done. I keep trying to add new songs to it, but nothing fits, and everything just sounds terrible, and she’s gonna regret bringing me back into the Bellas, and – and…”
She breaks off mid-sentence, running her hands through her hair in exasperation, hissing in pain when it forms a messy tangle around her headphones and she tries to pull it free. Chloe can’t be certain, but when Beca ducks her head away to free herself, she thinks that she catches the telltale glimmer of tears in the brunette’s dark blue eyes.
“Becs?” She instinctively leans over and cups Beca’s cheek, trying to soothe, to comfort, but then Beca flinches slightly and she chastises herself mentally – Beca has opened up so much around her that she’s forgotten how jumpy the younger Bella can still get about physical contact, and the last thing she wants right now is to scare her off, especially when she’s so visibly upset.
Chloe’s just about to pull away when Beca gives a quiet sigh before relaxing against her palm, her eyelids fluttering shut, and she brushes her thumb over the brunette’s cheek, wipes a tear away, amazed and slightly overawed at how much trust Beca places in her.
It makes her tear up too, and she forces herself to blink them back, discreetly, before Beca notices.
“Better?” Chloe whispers when Beca opens her eyes again. She’s not entirely sure why she’s whispering – perhaps it’s because Beca is looking at her, her gaze soft and peaceful for once, and there’s something so intimate and fragile about the moment, as though it would shatter if she made a sudden wrong move.
And she doesn’t want it to shatter just yet.
Beca gives her a small nod, a smile quirking up the corner of her lips as she turns away to refocus on the set. The agitation and anger that had dogged her earlier seem to have melted away, leaving a quiet confidence behind, and Chloe leans over, entranced by this other Beca that she rarely gets to see. She watches intently as the freshman works her magic, her fingers flying over her laptop, humming under her breath, adding in new songs, discarding others until she builds up layers and layers of melodies that overlap across each other to form one huge mashup that leaves the redhead wide-eyed and gaping in amazement.
Beca is exhausted by the time she thumbs the “Ctrl+S” button for the last time, sometime just before 4 in the morning. She is too tired to protest when Chloe snaps the laptop shut and pulls it out of her grasp, too tired to pull away when the older girl tugs her out of the chair and into the bed, and too tired to grumble when she finds Chloe's arms wrapped around her waist. Chloe drops a light kiss atop messy brown locks, smoothing them away from Beca’s face before closing her eyes as well.
Aubrey, returning home for the first time in two days later in the morning, walks in on the both of them curled up around each other in her bed and smiles softly, pulling the duvet around them before crashing on the couch.
(Of course, she misses her bed, but then it’d take a heartless monster to wake Beca and Chloe up when they look so peaceful, lying in each other’s arms.)
two
Summer seeps into Atlanta so slowly and languidly that Chloe never really notices its arrival at first – it’s been business as usual in the Bellas house since they’d returned from Copenhagen. Being world champions in acapella isn’t what the professors would consider sound excuse for missing out on work, so all of them had been busy with lessons, finishing up their thesis, and going for their last finals. It’s only when they begin packing up to leave Barden for good that the realisation that it’s the last time they’ll ever be together like this again slams into Chloe with the force of a speeding train. She drifts around the house as the semester draws to an end, already wistful and melancholic, and watches as photos are taken down from walls and counters and packed, previously unclaimed jackets and shoes are suddenly found by their owners again, and the letters, notes and textbooks that have, up till now, been permanently scattered all over their dining table are taken away.
She leans against the kitchen counter now, watching as the other Bellas throw themselves into the party, mingling with the other acapella nerds on campus – it’s barely two hours into the night, and she can already hear very drunk, off-key singing coming from the living room. Campus tradition dictates that the ICCA champions throw the end-of-year bash for the other acapella groups on campus, but the Trebles (who’d claimed the title this year in the absence of the Bellas) have decided to step aside, letting the newly-crowned world champions host instead.
The party shifts into a more sombre mood as night bleeds into morning – people are beginning to leave, Benji comes up to her before going back to the Trebles house, promising that he’ll look after Emily and make sure that she’ll be okay now that the Bellas are all moving out. (It’s sweet, but wholly unnecessary because Benji is a nice guy and Chloe trusts him with Legacy.) The Bellas are mostly slumped in the living room, sleeping off the aftereffects of their partying. Amy is off doing god knows what with Bumper, she’d seen Stacie sneak away earlier, leading Aubrey up to her room by her hand, and Beca and Jesse have disappeared about half an hour ago, leaving her alone.
She picks her way through the trash, humming along to the Spotify playlist still playing softly in the background, and leans against the front porch, watching as shades of pink and orange begin to streak through the sky, trying her best not to think about what the morning will bring.
And she watches as Beca slips in through the front gate alone, her face softening at the sight of Chloe standing at the front steps. She holds out her hand, a silent invitation to join her, and Beca takes it, nestling herself against Chloe’s side.
They stand there, hand in hand, watching the sun slowly rise.
“I broke things off with Jesse,” Beca begins conversationally after a minute or so of silence, and Chloe nearly drops her hand in shock.
“You… wait, what? Becs, are you okay?”
The brunette laughs, squeezing Chloe’s hand reassuringly. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long time coming, y’know? I think we both saw it coming ever since this year started, we’d be better off as friends.”
Chloe turns to study Beca’s face searchingly, but there’s no sadness in the dark blue eyes that meet her gaze steadily. Still, she has to make sure.
“You’re okay?”
“I’m okay,” Beca tells her, smiling gently when Chloe leans down to press a kiss to her temple.
The playlist switches to the next song, and Chloe’s head shoots up as the familiar strains of Moon River begin to play over the speakers. She’s always had a soft spot for this song – Breakfast at Tiffany’s had been a favourite movie of hers growing up, and it’s the song that she used to watch her parents dance to during birthdays and anniversaries. She remembers herself as a six-year-old kid, pressing her face against the staircase bannisters and watching wide-eyed as her parents waltzed around their living room, watching her father dip her mother before pulling her back up for a kiss, every single action gentle and affectionate.
She turns to face Beca, tugging her towards the centre of the porch. “Come, dance with me.”
To her credit, Beca doesn’t question her and follows her lead willingly enough, letting Chloe wind her arm around her waist, pulling her closer. She raises her left hand, resting it tentatively against Chloe’s shoulder, and the redhead smiles, giving her an approving nod as she reaches out to lace the fingers of their right hands together. It’s really not much of a dance because even after four years and hundreds of Bellas practices later, Beca still isn’t the best dancer, and Chloe, for all her experience in choreographing routines for the girls, has never learned how to waltz, but she’s content with just the both of them swaying to the music on the porch together.
“Moon river, wider than a mile, I’m crossing you in style someday,” Chloe sings quietly, warmth pooling at the pit of her belly as Beca rests her head on her shoulder, letting the redhead lead them in a circle around the porch. She marvels idly at how much has changed in the past three years, how much Beca has softened and opened herself up to Chloe – freshman Beca would’ve fled as soon as Chloe mentioned dancing, but here she is now, pressed up against Chloe in a loose embrace, rolling her eyes but obliging when Chloe pulls her into a twirl. The redhead drops another quick kiss to her best friend’s temple, inhaling the sweet smell of honey and cinnamon that always seems to cling to her, trying to imprint into her memory this scent that never fails to comfort her and remind her of home.
“You dream maker, you heartbreaker, wherever you’re going, I’m going your way.”
Beca picks up on the lower harmony in the next verse. “Two drifters, off to see the world, there’s such a lot of world to see.”
Chloe can’t help herself now – the lyrics are suddenly hitting her like a punch to her gut, and the fear and misery that she’s been trying to hold back all evening are welling back to the surface of her mind, spilling over in the form of hot tears that are sliding down her cheeks.
“We’re after the same rainbow’s end, waiting round the bend, my huckleberry friend, moon river and me.”
Her voice cracks on the last line, and Beca pulls back, her eyes wide and alarmed. “Chlo, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
She shakes her head, sweeping Beca into a tight hug even as she cries, burying her face into the younger girl’s neck. Beca wraps her arms around her, guiding them both over to the swing in the corner, and Chloe sinks into Beca’s lap with a wet sniffle, trying futilely to wipe the tears away. She knows that she must look like a mess – she hasn’t actually slept in the past two days, and her makeup must be running by now, but Beca doesn’t seem to care. She reaches out to cup Chloe’s cheek with one hand, and Chloe leans into the touch, trying to calm herself down.
“Better?” The younger Bella murmurs as she thumbs the last few tears away. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Chloe pulls away to settle herself beside Beca and cuddles into her side. “I’m scared,” she confesses quietly. “I’ve spent the past seven years of my life here, and now that I’m leaving, I don’t know where I’m going, or what I’m doing for the rest of my life. I – I’m not like you, Becs, I don’t have a plan, I’ve just been tagging along with you for the past three years. Now that you’re leaving for LA, I don’t know what I’ll do alone.”
Leaning her head against Beca’s shoulder, she continues speaking, forcing the words out past the lump in her throat. “I’ve been your co-captain and best friend for three years, and now I can’t imagine life without you around.”
“So come with me.”
It comes out of nowhere – she turns to Beca, who looks equally stunned at the words that had tumbled, unfiltered, past her lips. But she’s smiling, slowly, her dark blue eyes shining, and Chloe can’t help the surge of hope that rises in her chest, can’t help but reach out to grasp the younger girl’s hands joyfully.
“Really?”
Beca tilts her head, considering for a moment, before squeezing Chloe’s hands reassuringly. “Why not? There’s an extra room in the apartment I’m renting anyway, and I can’t ask for a better roommate. ‘sides, we won’t have to miss each other if we’re staying together, right?”
Chloe lets out a watery laugh. “Right. Right. We’re going to LA. Together.”
It seems so surreal, but Beca is nodding in agreement, and suddenly the future doesn’t look so bad when she knows that she’ll be facing it with Beca by her side.
three
Chloe is exhausted when she finally clocks out from work and heads towards home, the key in her hands slipping three times before she manages to get her door unlocked because her eyes are practically shut by the time she finds herself in front of her apartment. The afternoon shift at the animal hospital usually ends by 6 P.M. sharp, but then she’d signed up to follow the vets to Los Angeles Zoo for their bimonthly checkups, which is why she’s currently slumped against the kitchen doorway at 11 P.M., trying to pull her shoes off. (As a vet tech, she’s not technically allowed to work on zoo animals, but they’re understaffed at the moment, and this was how she found herself in a stare-down with a distinctly woozy grizzly bear before the tranquilizers kicked in and he slumped down into a snoring pile of fur at her feet. She swears that she saw her life flash before her eyes.)
“Hi.”
She’ll deny this later, but Chloe screams at the sudden voice the emanates from the darkness of their living room, and leaps so high that she reckons would've rivalled the goats she’d seen earlier today. Clapping her hand to her chest, she pads towards the sound, trying to slow her beating heart, and finds her best friend and roommate sitting on the couch, her face lit up by the faint blue glow from her laptop screen.
“For fuck’s sake, Mitchell, you took about ten years off my life,” she groans, flinging herself carelessly onto the couch, landing right on top of the younger woman’s legs. Beca yelps at the sudden weight, but Chloe ignores her, considering it a fair payback for having terrified her so badly earlier.
“I’m sorry,” Beca peeks over the edge of the laptop, trying to look contrite, but it isn’t working – Chloe can see her navy blue eyes sparkling with amusement, and despite her bone-deep weariness, she feels her own lips quirk up into an answering smile.
“No you’re not,” she hauls herself closer towards Beca, trying to peek at the screen, but the brunette starts shoving her off her legs, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
“Dude, you stink, go take a shower before you make me smell like animal poop too.”
“God, you’re so whiny,” Chloe grumbles, but obliges anyway, stripping unabashedly along the way, smirking slightly when she hears an outraged squeak of “CHLOE BEALE!” from the tiny brunette on the couch.
She’s surprised – but pleasantly so – to find Beca still awake by the time she’s out of the shower, dressed in her (read: Beca’s) old Barden hoodie and a pair of shorts she salvages from the floor of her bedroom. The brunette is sitting at the kitchen this time, sipping at a mug of hot chocolate while scrolling through her phone, and she looks up and Chloe walks in, pulling her hair into a messy bun.
“Hey,” Chloe mumbles, sinking into the chair opposite hers with a loud sigh and burying her head in her arms – now that she’s fresh and clean, the only thing she really wants to do is to collapse into her bed and not move until late next morning, but her stomach is complaining about the lack of food, and loudly, and Beca glances up from her phone with a wry grin.
“Looks like someone wants food.”
Chloe lets out a muffled grunt in response just as the microwave dings from the counter behind her. With her face still buried into the crook of her elbow, she senses more than sees Beca rise and make her way around the table, then hears the sound of plates clattering, cupboards being opened, and the glug of pouring liquid.
“I made chicken for dinner, figured that I should save you some,” Beca murmurs, pushing the plate and an accompanying mug of hot chocolate towards her, and Chloe smiles, oddly touched.
“You didn’t have to do all this, y’know?”
Beca raises a quizzical brow.
“Becs, you didn’t have to wait up for me and feed me,” she clarifies, reaching out to take Beca’s hand in hers. “I can take care of myself.”
“I know,” the younger woman ducks her head, suddenly shy. Chloe notices that underneath her dark brown curls, Beca’s ears are turning red, and can’t help the grin that lifts her lips at the sight. “I just, uh, wanted to make sure you got home safe, I guess?”
She shrugs uncertainly, and Chloe squeezes her hand reassuringly. “I appreciate it. Thank you.”
Dark blue eyes dart up to meet hers, and Beca smiles in reply.
For a while, here’s a comfortable silence between them, only broken by the quiet clink of utensils and Beca occasionally snorting with laughter before turning to show Chloe whatever that’s amused her from her Twitter feed. When she’s finished, both of them stand up, though Chloe beats Beca to the punch and scoops up the dirty dishes, depositing them into the sink.
“Nuh-uh,” she waves Beca away when she opens her mouth to protest. “You waited up for me and gave me food, the least I can do is to clean up – you should go to bed.”
But then Beca reaches around her and snags the cloth they use to dry the dishes with, shooting her a glance that tells Chloe that it’d be useless to argue. They move around the kitchen with a practiced, comfortable familiarity, one that’s been ingrained in them after six years of living together – three with the Bellas, and three here, together in LA.
Sometimes, when Chloe gets introspective, she marvels about the path that had brought them here, together, because twenty-one year old Chloe would never have imagined that the tiny, sullen DJ she cornered in the shower seven years ago would end up being her best friend and the person that she moved across the country for. She studies Beca out of the corner of her eye now – the brunette is humming quietly under her breath as she stretches up on her tiptoes, balancing a mug onto the shelf. A wave of affection rushes through her when the tiny frown of concentration that mars the younger woman’s face transforms into a triumphant grin when she succeeds, and she tosses the cloth into the sink haphazardly, turning and meeting Chloe’s gaze.
“What?”
Chloe shakes her head. “Nothing. Let’s go to bed.”
It’s not nothing, exactly, she knows that something’s changed between the both of them ever since they moved in together, though she can’t quite put her finger on it yet. Perhaps it’s the way that Beca seems to have drawn her into her own personal orbit – when Chloe thinks about it, she realizes that she can’t remember the last time her best friend isn’t involved in any part of her life, but…
But that’s just how best friends work, isn’t it? They’ve just grown even closer now that they’re living alone, without the Bellas demanding for their attention all the time, and Chloe reckons that it’s normal.
(Or at least, she thought that it was normal, but then Aubrey looks at her as though she’s an idiot whenever she brings it up on their fortnightly Skype calls even though she's never managed to figure out why.)
And she knows that Beca feels the same way, because she’s caught the brunette eyeing her thoughtfully multiple times before she realizes that she’s been caught staring, and looks away, a faint blush dusting her cheeks.
“Goodnight, Beale,” Beca’s voice startles her out of her thoughts, and she leans in, wrapping her in a tight hug, dropping a light kiss to the top of her head when she pulls away.
“Night, Becs.”
It’s only when she’s collapsed under her sheets that she remembers the gift she’s bought for Beca. Rolling over, she pulls the stuffed red panda out of its packaging and cuddles it before heaving herself out of bed. It’s not Beca's birthday, and they’re not celebrating anything important, but she’d walked past the toy at the zoo gift shop on her way out and recalling Beca’s soft spot for these adorable creatures, knew that there’s no way she was leaving without it.
She slips into Beca’s room and under her covers, grateful that the brunette is still awake.
“Uh, Chloe? What are you doing?”
“Surprise,” Chloe whispers, pressing the toy into her arms, beaming when Beca’s face lights up like a Christmas tree as she hugs the toy, pressing her face against it, before flinging her arms around Chloe and squeezing her tight.
“Fuck, Chlo, this is so fucking cute, thank you!”
She hums in reply, curling herself around Beca’s tiny form with a contented sigh. Beca nestles against her, and Chloe has to choke back a laugh when she sees that the red panda is cradled in her arms like a child.
Who knew that the self-proclaimed badass would turn into such a softy over a stuffed toy?
The last thing she remembers before she falls asleep is wondering –
What does it mean when this – seeking comfort and falling asleep in each other’s arms has become second nature to them? What does it mean when she knows that the stuffed toy would take a huge chunk out of her paycheck, but she went ahead and bought it anyway because she thinks that seeing Beca smile would be worth the price?
What does it mean when the very idea of living without Beca terrifies her because she can't imagine a life without her best friend around?
four
When Chloe finally, finally realises that she’s in love with Beca Mitchell, they’re in Stuttgart, halfway through the USO tour. There’s no earthshattering, blinding moment of truth that makes her sit up and gasp – instead, they’re just walking around the city, checking out the sights on their one day off from performing, and as Beca reaches out blindly to take Chloe’s hand to prevent Chloe from wandering away from the rest of the group (as she’s prone to do so without so much as a word to Beca whenever something catches her eye), she glances down at their entwined fingers, feels the old, familiar warmth pool at the bottom of the belly, and thinks:
God, I think I love you.
She wonders if it should scare her – after all, she figures that it’s kind of a big thing, finding out that you’ve been in love with your best friend for what’s probably been years, but then Beca turns around and shoots her the soft smile that’s only ever reserved for her, and it feels like –
It feels like her entire world has flipped on its axis but then righted itself again, like a puzzle piece that’s been ever-so-slightly misaligned all along is sliding into its rightful place deep within her.
It feels okay – right. It feels right.
“Are you okay?” Beca’s voice cuts through her thoughts, and she realises that she’s just been standing there, staring down at the younger woman oddly for the past minute.
“Yeah,” she exhales, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Come on, let’s go find the others.”
She wants to tell Beca immediately – she wants to pull the tiny brunette into her arms and kiss her right there on the street, to climb up to the top of the cathedral on the street opposite them and shout out to the rest of the world that she’s in love with the brilliant, wonderful woman standing in front of her and holding her hand, but the Bellas are waiting for them to catch up at the street corner, and as she watches Beca manoeuvre them through the crowd (a harder job than it sounds, considering that the average German population is at least 4 inches taller than Beca), she knows that this is not the right time. All the same, CR is shooting her a knowing look and Aubrey eyes the both of them suspiciously before giving her a wink, and part of her wonders how oblivious she must have been, for the girls to have picked up on this thing between them long before either of them did.
It’s so easy, being in love with Beca, and part of her thinks that it’s because she’s loved the younger woman for so long that nothing’s really changed. She still shares a bed with Beca in their hotel and cuddles her to sleep at night because neither of them can sleep without the other, they still gravitate towards each other naturally whenever they’re apart, and she still reaches out instinctively for Beca’s hand whenever they go out together.
Aubrey corners her on the morning they leave Stuttgart for Bavaria, she nearly screams in surprise when she walks out of the washroom cubicle to see her friend just hovering outside the door, waiting for her.
“Jesus Christ, Aubrey! Don’t do that!” Her heart is hammering wildly, and she grabs the sink weakly, trying to calm down.
“Sorry,” Aubrey shrugs, but she doesn’t look apologetic – instead, she grabs Chloe’s arm, and demands, “So, have you talked to Beca yet?”
“About what?”
“About,” the blond waves a hand at Chloe, then the space beside her. “About you and her! You keep making googly eyes at each other across the room, and as much as we’re happy for you, it’s starting to make us all sick.”
Chloe dries her hands using a paper towel, then tosses it into the bin before looking Aubrey in the eye. “I know, and I will talk to her. It’s just – not the right time. But I’ll do it, I promise.”
“You promise?” Aubrey squints at her, and Chloe nods emphatically.
“I promise.”
The Bellas have boarded the train by the time Aubrey and Chloe leave the washroom, and Chloe drops into the seat that Beca has saved for her, her heart warm – she’d mentioned her motion sickness to the younger woman once, back during her first senior year, and Beca’s made sure to save her a window seat whenever they travelled together ever since. The brunette pulls out her earphones to speak.
“I was beginning to worry that you’d miss the train.”
Chloe snorts out a laugh. “Sorry. Aubrey was just being… Aubrey.”
Beca lets out a soft huff of amusement, and Chloe smiles as she studies her – with her nose scrunched up and navy blue eyes crinkled with laughter, Chloe thinks she has never looked more beautiful, she feels the sudden urge to kiss her. But then Fat Amy is watching them a little too closely for comfort from across the aisle, and Beca is already relaxing back into her seat and pulling out her laptop to work on a mix, so she settles for plucking one earphone out of the brunette’s ear and closes her eyes. She ignores the customary indignant murmur of protest and makes herself comfortable against Beca’s shoulder instead, letting the music and the rattle of the train wheels against the tracks lull her into a soft slumber as they speed across Germany.
Bavaria is gorgeous, and she drags Beca out of the hotel once they’re done checking in.
They trek all the way to Nuremberg Castle, where Chloe spends too long (in Beca’s words) staring up at the ancient buildings, and then Beca sneaks off for a moment – the next time she turns around, the younger woman is staring down at the ground shyly, her cheeks dusted with a light pink flush, holding out a flower in her hand.
“Becs,” Chloe takes the flower, oddly touched – it’s a single tulip, white petals patterned with streaks of red, and she touches it with the tip of her finger, traces the edge of a petal delicately. She’d spotted the flowers in a vendor’s cart earlier, and had spent a good few minutes there, quietly admiring them, not noticing that Beca had been studying her, a gentle smile on her face. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to,” she peeks up at Chloe through her eyelashes, and her heart flutters at the sight – she leans forwards, pressing a quick kiss of thanks to Beca’s cheeks, and when she pulls away, they’re both blushing.
I love you, she wants to say, but then Beca’s phone rings, and it’s the rest of the Bellas calling them to meet up for dinner, so she forces the words back. Not the right time.
She watches as Beca ducks through the rain in Rome, nearly crashing against Chloe as she dives for the shelter of the redhead’s umbrella. I love you, she thinks, but Emily and Amy are arguing again, and she’s hurrying to break up the fight before it escalates.
I love you, she thinks on the ship, floating off the coast of the south of France, literally dancing and singing for their lives. She catches Beca’s eye for a fleeting moment, tries to tell her with the force of her stare alone how much Beca means to her, and she thinks that Beca knows, because the panic in the navy blue eyes soften a little before they’re forced apart.
And then Beca’s onstage alone, opening for DJ Khaled, and she’s filled with so much pride that she thinks her heart will burst. She swallows past the lump in her throat, forces the tears back when Beca’s warm fingers wrap around hers as she’s being pulled onstage, and she can’t help but just stare at Beca as the brunette dances across the stage, taking the time to hug each Bella, grasping their hands, the song a quiet promise that Beca would never be able to say.
I won’t let you down, I will not give you up.
They’ve begun to pull away from the huge group hug that they’ve found themselves in after the song is over – Beca lets out a huge sigh of relief, but doesn’t move out of Chloe’s embrace. Instead, she clings tighter, letting Chloe guide her offstage, pressing her face into fiery red curls, as though she never wants to let go, and so the words slip out, past Chloe’s lips.
“I love you, Beca.”
It’s a quiet whisper, almost lost over the roar of the crowd, and in fact, she thinks that Beca doesn’t hear it, because the brunette is starting to untangle herself from Chloe’s arms, but then –
Beca surges up on her tiptoes, and presses her lips to Chloe’s in a short, quick kiss. She looks so uncertain when she rocks back on her heels, her eyes shy and so vulnerable, as though she’s taken the biggest leap of faith and is begging for Chloe to catch her.
And so she does. Chloe steps forward, pulling Beca flush against her and cups her cheek, brushing her thumb gently across the freckles that dust her skin, and kisses her. She traces the line of Beca’s lip teasingly with her tongue, and Beca gasps against her mouth, and she wants more, more, more, before they’re forced to part because, well –
It’s a little hard to kiss someone properly when she’s beaming so widely.
So she tells Beca “I love you” again, and revels in the soft, adoring look that steals across the brunette’s face when Beca says it back – it’s the look that she’s seen before; the look that Beca gave her the night they decided to move to LA together, the look that she’d noticed as Beca gave her the flower in Germany, and she recognises it now.
It’s the look of Beca in love with her, and she thinks that she wants to take a photo and frame it, because it’s a look that she wants to see forever.
hold (on for the rest of our lives)
They move into their new home for good three years after the USO tour – now that Beca’s a pretty established music producer (“You’re totes famous now, babe,” Chloe likes to tell Beca with a grin to make her blush.) and Chloe’s been working as a full-time vet for the past nine months, they’ve decided that it’s time for them to move out of the loft that they’ve been renting. Sure, the view is good, the location is wonderful and the rent is cheap (for LA), but now that they’ve been married for a year now, Chloe just wants to settle down in a home that they can call theirs.
She wakes up early the day after they finally move into the house that she’s been eyeing for so long, confused and slightly disorientated by the new patterns of light that their curtains throw against the ceiling, before remembering that they’re in their new home, now. Beca is curled up against her side, nose buried against Chloe’s neck and her arm thrown around her waist, and when Chloe leans over to drop a kiss atop her sleep-mussed hair, she stirs, squinting at Chloe as the world slowly sharpens into focus around her.
“What time is it?” She grumbles, her voice hoarse with sleep, and Chloe simply pulls Beca closer against her, before kissing her again.
“Early. You can go back to sleep.”
It’s all the encouragement that Beca needs – she’s out like a light within the minute, and Chloe studies her sleeping wife for a moment, her heart full, before she snuggles deeper under the warmth of their covers and follows suit.
The next time she opens her eyes, Beca is studying her, propped up on one elbow, her finger tracing down Chloe’s jawline – she smiles when she sees the redhead’s eyelids flutter open.
“Good morning.”
Her smile widens when Chloe doesn’t reply, choosing to thread her hands through Beca’s dark brown curls to pull her closer, then presses her lips to her wife’s instead. Beca rolls over without breaking the kiss, straddling her thighs, buries her hands in Chloe’s hair, and when they pull apart, they’re both panting slightly, a grin visible on Beca’s kiss-swollen lips.
“Definitely a good morning.”
Chloe laughs.
The slender fingers that have been tangled in fiery red locks start to wander – they trace their way down Chloe’s shoulders, dancing across the angular lines of her collarbone, and here, Beca pauses to press a soft kiss to the hollow of her neck, before her hands continue on their ministrations. The brunette presses her palms gently to the warm skin of her chest, before roaming further downwards, cupping her breasts with an appreciative hum before moving down to the soft skin of her ribs.
There’s nothing sexual about Beca’s slow, deliberate movements over Chloe’s body – instead, the younger woman is smiling at her, wide-eyed and adoring and reverent. It’s the look that Chloe loves – Beca is staring down at her like Chloe’s the only thing that ever matters, and the answering swell of love overflows within her, makes the tears slip out, unbidden. Beca simply kisses the tears away, nuzzling against her wife as she does so, and sometimes Chloe wonders how she ever got so lucky to have earned the love of the woman kneeling there in front of her.
It’s a whole different kind of heaven, and one that she will never get sick of.
And then Beca’s fingers dance against her sides lightly, tickling her and making her chuckle, before they continue on their path, tracing the now-visible swell of Chloe’s pregnant belly. Chloe laughs wetly when she feels an answering flutter of movement within her, the action making Beca’s dark blue eyes widen as she hunches over to press a long, soft kiss against the gentle bump.
“Hello, sweetpea,” the brunette mumbles, her lips brushing against Chloe’s skin, and Chloe shivers slightly, gives in the urge to kiss Beca and pulls her wife up against her, crashes their lips together. Beca rolls over to her side, each movement gentle and careful so that she doesn’t accidentally hurt her wife and their unborn baby, and Chloe can’t help but smile at her, her eyes filling with tears once more.
Damn pregnancy hormones.
“Oh my god, Chloe, are you okay? Are you hurt? Is it the bab – “
Chloe shakes her head, pressing her fingers to Beca’s lips before the brunette can continue rambling on. All the same, Beca is running her hands down her body again, this time anxiously, her gaze terrified, and Chloe reaches up to grab her wrists, forcing her to stop.
“Becs, I’m fine.”
“You’re crying.”
She releases Beca’s hands to cup her face, brushing her thumb against the soft skin of her cheek gently. “I’m okay, I promise. Just some emotional overload, that’s all.”
Beca studies her face for a moment, but the redhead can tell when her wife believes her – she relaxes against the pillows and cuddles into her side again, one hand splayed across Chloe’s stomach protectively as she hums quietly under her breath, and Chloe’s content to simply lie there and listen, stroking her fingers through dark brown curls idly as she wonders how she ever got so lucky, to have everything she’s ever wanted nestled right here in her arms.
fin