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“All right, so.”
“So.”
Beca crosses her arms and looks pointedly down at the bed. “You’re sleeping there. I’m taking the couch.”
“For the last time, no.” Emily’s frustration is almost tangible; Beca’s surprised that she hasn’t stomped her foot yet. “I’m the guest, I should take the couch.”
“No, the guest takes the bed,” Beca insists. “That’s an F in Etiquette 101 for you, go back to school.”
“Oh, like you’re an expert in etiquette.”
“Excuse you, that’s why I said 101.”
It’s nearing midnight and everyone has been up since 6am — 5am in Emily and Theo’s case — but with this unforeseen predicament on their hands, sleep looks like a far-off option. After an earth-shattering morning surprise, a full day of work, a dinner with clients, and late-night drinks with Theo and Emily, all Beca wants to do is pass out.
Preferably next to Emily, but since that’s not looking like an option at the moment, she’ll gladly curl up in the bathtub instead if it means this argument will be over.
“Well, Beca has a point.” Leaning against their open doorway, Theo perks up. “She’s much, much smaller, so it’d make more sense for her to take the couch.”
“Ha!” Beca says triumphantly in Emily’s face before flipping Theo off. “Fuck you for that. But ha!”
“I’ve seen you sleeping on that couch, your legs stick out no matter how short you are!”
“And how do you think your mile-long legs are gonna fit?”
“You know what? Fine, I’ll just sleep on the floor.”
Beca reels back like Emily slapped her across the face. “If you sleep on the floor, I will too,” she counters.
“Oh, my god,” Theo whispers.
“Okay, why don’t we just both sleep on the bed?” Emily tries to continue her earlier argument, but Beca stands her ground.
“Do you see this thing? It’s like, a prison bed.”
It’s actually a very nice bed, with pristine sheets, thick blankets and comforters, fluffy pillows, and a sturdy-looking wood frame. The only issue is its size; since neither Beca nor Theo (and Emily, for that matter) knew far enough in advance that there’d be an extra person staying in this room, Theo had booked them each a single, which is roughly the size of a shoebox with proportionally small furniture.
It worked just fine for Beca when she was alone. But now with all 5′8″of Emily stumbling around the limited space, the room suddenly feels like a tiny closet.
“It’s just a twin, like our college beds,” Emily says patiently. “And those fit two people, right? So we’ll be fine.”
“Look, I’m no Mattress King, but I bet my life that this is smaller than a twin.
“There’s nothing smaller than a twin!”
“Actually, there is. It’s called a small single.”
Emily whirls on Theo. “You’re making that up. Don’t encourage her.”
“A small single,” Beca repeats, jumping on his words. “You think two whole-ass people can fit on a small single?”
“You’re just spoiled because we have a queen back home!”
“And considering your size, that’s what we need!”
“You callin’ me fat?”
“You two have a queen?” Theo asks, smiling uncertainly as Beca swells with rage at Emily’s untimely joke. “That seems excessive, considering one of you is the size of a toddler.”
Beca turns to him, murder in her heart. “Dude, why’re you even here?” she snaps.
“To get the paperwork from you, remember?”
“It’s in your hand! I gave it to you ten minutes ago!”
“Yeah, but —”
“Scram!”
She kicks the door closed after him, letting it slam shut way more dramatically than she’d meant it to. Now it seems like she’s pissed at him, which she’s not, and like this stupid little spat over the bed legitimately made her mad, which it didn’t.
The last thing she wants to do is upset Emily after she flew all the way across the Atlantic to spend just one weekend with her. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Beca lets out a deep sigh.
Before she can turn to apologize, Emily presses against her back, arms circling around her waist. “Okay, I’m sorry for being a dick,” Emily mutters into Beca’s hair. “I just feel bad because I came here unannounced and now I’m all up in your space. You’re the one working, so you should be the one getting a restful sleep in the bed.”
Beca turns in Emily’s arms and reaches up to squish her cheeks together. “No. You’re not allowed to apologize for being in my space. Not now, not ever.” Exhaustion crashing over her, Beca tilts forward, trusting Emily to catch her and keep her upright. “You called out of work, dished out extra for last-minute plane tickets, and took a red eye just to see me for what, three and a half days? The least I could do is give you a decent bed to sleep on.”
Emily threads her fingers through Beca’s hair as she talks, and that familiar, comforting sensation alone is enough to push Beca over the edge into unconsciousness. “Let’s just chill on the bed for a bit, okay? Together.” Emily suggests gently.
“But it’s so small. It’s not gonna be comfortable,” Beca whines weakly.
“Well, get your butt into some PJs and we’ll find out.”
Still reluctant but too tired to pick up the argument again, Beca changes into her sleepshirt and sweatpants. Emily’s finishes faster and is already lying in the tiny bed, arms held wide open for Beca. She wiggles her arms invitingly when Beca doesn’t move.
There’s like, an inch of bed left for her. There’s no way in hell this is a twin.
Emily wiggles more insistently. “Get over here, punk.”
“You’re the punk,” Beca mutters, giving in and climbing onto the bed — or rather, onto Emily — and pulling the covers over them. “I’m gonna crush you,” she says worriedly, keeping all her weight on the one elbow and half a hip that she can fit on the thin sliver of remaining mattress.
“You’re not gonna crush me.”
“But I’m heavy.”
“You’re less than 120 pounds, I can bench press you with one hand.”
“...fine. Show-off.”
The instant she settles into Emily’s arms, Beca knows she’s not going to be able to fall asleep anywhere else. It’s been a literal month since they’ve been this close, since they held each other like this, since they’ve slept together in the same bed. She rests her head on Emily’s chest, concerns about it being too heavy flying out the window as soon as she hears the steady heartbeat she’d missed so much.
With a small hum of satisfaction, Emily pulls her in tighter and tangles their legs together so Beca’s not teetering off the edge. She’d said they could chill on the bed for "a bit,” but Beca could literally die like this and have no regrets.
“Beca?” Emily’s voice sounds far away, dreamlike. Beca barely has enough energy to get her vocal chords to work up a response.
“Hmm?”
“You sure you still want to take the couch?”
There’s absolutely nothing she wants to do less at the moment, but she’s not about to admit that to Emily. That would mean that Beca was wrong, that their whole fifteen-minute chivalry argument in front of Theo was a complete waste, that she’d actually tried to avoid being in this heavenly comfort.
“Just...five more minutes.”
Emily laughs softly, knowing that Beca has no plans to move for the rest of the night. Carefully, so she doesn’t jostle the half-asleep girl, she reaches over Beca’s head to switch off the nightstand lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
Despite hanging onto consciousness by a mere thread, Beca’s still awake when Emily eventually falls asleep. She listens to Emliy’s breaths deepen and even out, a few of them catching into light snores. Her arms are still tight around Beca, like she’s making up for all the time they’d spent apart, for all the physical contact they’d missed out on.
Eased by her breathing, her heartbeat, her warmth, and her presence, Beca finally drifts off to sleep, finally feeling like she’s home.