#I have to wonder if stacy finds herself to be the normal one amongst her friends

[textsofdanville]

Stacy couldn't bear to keep this a secret from Candace but Candace knows well enough to not throw stones at glass houses.

[gaymy-raudenfeld]

Home is Where the Heart Is

I’m posting a little late, even by American standards, but I made it in time! A merry pitchmas to @snowbritt and all of you wonderful people. I haven’t posted any fanfic in a while so this may be a bit rusty.

Summary: When the Bellas find out they’ll be getting a house and sharing bedrooms, Beca tries to use the opportunity to get close to Chloe. When she doesn’t act fast enough, she spends the following months pining after Chloe and trying to find a chance to get close to her. Beca gets her wish in an unexpected way.

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.1k

“Dear Barden Bellas,

Due to your recent streak of wins at the ICCA finals, we have decided it is only fair to award you the way we have awarded our other prestigious acapella groups in the past. We have secured the funding and approval to build a lodging house for all current and future Bellas to reside in throughout their time at Barden University. The proposed blueprints are attached…”

Beca was cut off by the screaming. The girls couldn’t believe it. They had won back-to-back ICCA championships and now they were being given their very own building. They could finally practice outside Barden’s tiny black box theatre, free from the drama kids who kicked them out so they could rehearse and the motion lights that sometimes left them singing in the dark, like some kind of cult-

“Wait a minute,” Fat Amy interrupted everybody celebrating, “this floor plan only includes six bedrooms.”

“Well then I guess we’re gonna have to double up.” Cynthia Rose said, eyeing Stacie.

“I wanna be with Jessica.” “I wanna be with Ashley.” Ashley and Jessica said at the same time.

“And we have to save one room for the new Bellas.” Beca added. The girls began to talk amongst themselves again when Fat Amy quietly approached Beca.

“How about it, shortstack?” She said, leaning in. “I promise to give you ample warning about any gentleman callers I may have.”

“Yes… I mean no… I mean what?”

“This is like the third time I’ve caught you daydreaming today; you have GOT to tell me what is on your mind before you wander into traffic or something.”

“How is telling you gonna stop me from wandering into traffic?”

“It’s not, but I won’t be able to hear your gossip if you’re in a coma.”

Beca sighed and lowered her voice even further. “Listen, if I promise to give you more details later, will you be chill about letting me room with Chloe?”

“Chloe?” Fat Amy questioned. “She takes forever to get ready before every practice and recital, which YOU were complaining about just last week. Are you sure you’ll be able to deal with Chloe’s daily makeup routine when you’re sharing a bathroom?”

“It’s not that big of a deal, I could get used to it.” Beca shrugged.

“What’s going on?”

They were interrupted by Stacie calling everyone to attention. “Okay! So the room assignments are gonna be one free room for new recruits, Ashley & Jessica, Denise & Cynthia Rose, Fat Amy & Beca, me & Chloe, and… Lilly sleeps in a room by herself. We all good with that?” The Bellas voiced their agreement.

“Fuck.” Beca muttered to herself.

The girls began to scatter, some still chattering excitedly about the Bella House, which would be ready by the Fall semester. When almost everyone had cleared, Fat Amy turned back to Beca. “You wanna tell me what that was about?”

“I may have… developed a crush on a certain Bella.” Beca said, turning beet red.

“No way!” Fat Amy whisper-yelled. “Let me guess. Is it Stacie? Her legs are about as long as you are, so you get a good view.”

“It is NOT Stacie. Although you do have a good point about the view.”

“Well who is it then?”

Beca took in a deep breath, preparing to unload her secret. She breathed again, and as she exhaled, she said “Chloe.”

“Chloe?? Of course! The first time you met you were naked and it did something to you, psychologically.”

“It was the second time, and she just, wouldn’t leave my shower until I sang with her and I did and then I joined the Bellas and everything was totally fine.”

“And you JUST developed this crush?”

“It’s possible I was too traumatized by the event to understand my feelings until recently.”

“Yeah, or you’re just a clueless girl who fell in love with an even more clueless boy for like, eight months before you broke up because you realized you have feelings for a girl in your acapella group. Which, by the way, was bound to happen, with the amount of time the nine of us spend together.”

“Damn Amy, have you actually been paying attention in your psychology class?”

“Enough to know that you’ve got the hots for your redheaded best friend, and your life is only gonna get worse if you don’t tell her about it.”

“What do I even say?”

“That one’s on you, loverboy. Now, I gotta get out of here and meet a gentleman caller.”

Beca quirked an eyebrow. She was going to need to find a way to tell Chloe her feelings before the living arrangements were settled.

-

Beca did not find a way to tell Chloe her feelings before the living arrangements were settled.

Fall came in the blink of an eye and she found herself face-to-face with a slew of problems, including arranging new Bellas routines, her music theory professor who seemed to have it out for her, and the fact that she had a growing crush on her best friend and acapella group co-leader. Things were off to a great start.

The summer spent apart had only deepened Beca’s feelings, which was irritating. It didn’t help that she and Chloe spent a ton of time together choreographing dances for the competitions later in the year. Whenever the girls had to pair up, Chloe walked straight to Beca, grabbing her wrists with intention. Like she knew exactly what she was doing. Like she belonged there.

“Bec?” Chloe had clearly been trying to get Beca’s attention.

“Huh? What?” Beca’s train of thought was broken.

“Are you ready to show them the moves we came up with?”

Beca nodded eagerly, attempting to make up for spacing out earlier. “Yep. Totally. Let’s do this.”

Chloe started leading Beca around the makeshift rehearsal area they had created in the Bella House’s living room. They had to move the couches around and it wasn’t as big as Barden’s black box but at least it didn’t smell like feet. It was easier to focus on what was in front of her, which, at the moment, was a certain redhead.

Chloe smelled like clean laundry and cherry blossoms, a product of the showers that were much easier to take now that she didn’t have to use a communal bathroom built for thirty people. Chloe may take a while to get ready, but Stacie takes even longer, and sometimes Chloe walks down the hall to Beca and Amy’s room and borrows their shower. Their bathroom smells like vanilla and cherry blossoms for hours afterward, and it drives Beca nuts in the best way possible. She watched Chloe perform the new routine with confidence, poise, and accuracy, and she felt her breath hitch in her chest.

What she didn’t feel was the edge of the coffee table as she tripped and fell backward onto its hard surface, banging her head. After everyone’s initial shock had passed, they went to check on Beca to make sure she was okay.

“I’m fine.” Beca stated assuredly. “Really, the worst thing I hurt is my ego.”

“Your head sounded like a bowling ball hitting the floor” Lilly said, almost imperceptibly.

“BECA!” Fat Amy shouted. “CAN YOU SAY YOUR A-B-C’S BACKWARDS?” She was speaking more slowly than normal.

“You know I can hear you right?”

“And isn’t that supposed to be for sobriety tests?” Cynthia Rose asked.

While they had been chatting, Chloe had sat down next to Beca and helped her sit up. She had her hand on Beca’s back, propping her up just in case she felt dizzy.

“Are you okay?” Chloe asked concernedly.

“I’m fine,” Beca repeated, much softer this time, “really.”

Chloe was looking into Beca’s eyes, just checking her pupils. Such a clinical action, but Chloe made it seem so tender. She ran her hand up Beca’s neck to the back of her head, feeling for any irregularities. Beca felt chills run up her spine as Chloe rubbed her fingers across her scalp. She hoped she wasn’t being too obvious.

Chloe pulled back. “The bad news is you might have a small concussion. The good news is that lump on your head just may make you taller.”

“Ha-ha.” Beca fake laughed.

Stacie chimed in, “I had a concussion once and my doctor told me not to sleep. Wait. It was either my doctor or my mom. I don’t remember.”

“I think the best thing for Beca to do is to go lie down.” Cynthia Rose added.

“Does that have anything to do with you not wanting to practice the new routine?” Beca quipped from the table.

“If I carry you to your room can I not answer that question?” Cynthia Rose replied.

“Fair enough.”

Cynthia Rose crossed the living room to scoop Beca into her arms, and was about to lift her off the table when Fat Amy piped up. “Uh, um, Beca can’t stay in our room.”

“Why not?” Beca squinted at her roommate.

“Because… I’m going to have... a gentleman caller….. or two….. this evening.” She began to trail off near the end.

“Right on.” Stacie nodded in Fat Amy’s direction.

“Okay so where am I taking Beca to?” Cynthia Rose asked, still positioned to lift Beca.

“How about my room?” Chloe, who had been sitting quietly next to Beca for some time now finally rejoined the conversation.

Beca tried to be cool, looking at Stacie. “Is that alright?”

Stacie nodded. “Yeah, sure, I was planning on going out after this anyway.”

“Great, then it’s settled.” Cynthia Rose said. “I’m carrying Beca to Chloe’s room.”

-

They quickly discovered that Cynthia Rose couldn’t carry Beca up the stairs wedding-style. So it turned into Chloe and Cynthia Rose flanking Beca on each side in case she became dizzy after hitting her head.

“I feel like a fucking hospice patient.” Beca half-joked as they reached Chloe’s room and they helped her lie down on the bed.

“I got it from here, C. Rose thank you.” Chloe said, ushering her out and gently closing the door behind her. She turned off most of the lights in the room except for some string lights and a single lamp that emitted a soft pink glow.

“Wow, you went hardcore doctor out there.” Beca said a bit jokingly.

“This is like, my seventh year of school. If I can’t recognize a concussion when I see one I should just quit now and go back to clown camp with Aubrey.”

“Yeah I… I’m sorry BACK to clown camp?!?”

“It was a dark summer in middle school.”

“You owe me a story Beale.”

“I don’t owe you anything Mitchell.”

The two locked eyes from across the room and Beca felt her heart jump into her throat again. Good thing she was already lying down this time; nowhere to fall.

Beca relented. “How about an ice pack?”

Chloe nodded, a contented look crossing her face. “That I can do.”

She returned moments later with an ice pack, an extra blanket, and a box of chocolate chip cookies.

“Oh my God.” Beca stated when she saw the care package Chloe had assembled for her.

“I thought you might want the rest of these before they were devoured.” Chloe said, handing Beca the cookies.

Beca quickly opened the package and grabbed a cookie to chow down on. As she was popping the dessert into her mouth, she unthinkingly said “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Chloe said, perched on the side of her bed. She seemed more sincere than Beca was expecting. She awkwardly swallowed the large bite of cookie she had in her mouth in an attempt to change the topic as quickly as possible.

“So I’m concussed?” Beca asked, reaching for the blanket to put over her legs.

“Yep.” Chloe stated. “Couldn’t keep up with my choreo, huh?” She winked, handing Beca the ice pack. Beca didn’t want to talk about the real reason she injured herself: that she was too busy watching Chloe dance to pay attention to her own feet.

“You know I’m a notoriously bad dancer.”

“Is that why you always need my help during practice?”

“Yeah, if it wasn’t for you I would have done this like ten times already. I’m taking advantage of your veterinary health training.”

“Always good to be able to practice on someone who can give me feedback.”

“As long as you don’t shove a thermometer up my ass.”

“Well, Stacie IS gone for the rest of the night…”

“Watch it, Beale.”

The pair laughed for a second before settling into a comfortable silence. Chloe sat on the edge of the bed, tracing swirling patterns in her sheets. Beca looked around at the room she missed out on at the end of the last semester. It wasn’t all that different from her own; the only important difference was the girl she was in the room with.

When it became clear that Chloe wasn’t going to leave, Beca began to ask questions. “No plans tonight, huh? You’re not having a tinder-venture like Stacie or whatever the hell Amy is doing in our bedroom?”

Chloe chuckled. “No, nothing like that. I haven’t really gone out on a date in a while. Besides, I want to make sure you’re okay!” Chloe moved closer and fussed with Beca’s blanket.

“I appreciate the gesture, Chlo, but you’ve definitely got better things to be doing on a Friday night.” “Nothing more important than you.” Chloe looked up, meeting Beca’s eyes and offering a smile. Beca sheepishly looked away. Was that as serious as it sounded? Probably not, right?

“Do you mind if I…?” Chloe trailed off, motioning to her covers.

“Do I mind if you sleep in your own bed? No, not at all, just help me get over into Stacie’s bed.” Beca began to push herself up with her arms.

“You don’t have to move, actually.” Chloe said. Another surprise.

“Are you sure? It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Please, Beca. It’ll be easier. I’ll even let you be the little spoon.”

Beca scoffed. “What makes you think I want to be the little spoon?”

“Don’t you?”

Beca hesitated. “…….Fine.” She scooted over and allowed Chloe to slide in next to her. She could feel the warmth from Chloe’s body contrasting the ice pack she had been holding to her head.

“Is this good for concussions too?”

“Yep. Vet’s orders.” Chloe said as she settled in.

After a few minutes had passed, Beca spoke again.

“You know, I wanted this room really bad before we all moved in together.”

“Really? Aw Bec, you should have said something sooner. I’m sure Stacie and I would have been fine in your room-”

“It’s not really about the room. More like, the roommate.” Beca felt her stomach drop as she began to hint at her feelings for Chloe.

“Oh.” Chloe just said back.

Oh God. Oh fuck I’ve ruined everything I can’t believe I just came onto her like that-

”That’s really sweet of you Bec.”

Beca couldn’t believe it. The world was still intact, somehow. She inched backward into Chloe, and felt the redhead silently move closer to her at the same time. They fell asleep with their legs tangled, both tired from the long day.

-

The next morning Beca woke up early to a throbbing in the back of her head.

Ah, fuck. Beca thought to herself as she reached back to rub the tender part of her scalp, still half asleep. She was surprised to grab onto a face just behind her own.

“Good morning to you too.” Chloe said, muffled by Beca’s hand.

Beca turned over. “Shit. Sorry about that. What time is it?”

“Like… 8:30 on a Saturday. Are you late for morning yoga?”

“Fuck you.” Beca laughed and poked Chloe’s shoulder. “Ah man. I really stayed in here the whole night.”

“And you only snored a little bit.” Chloe joked, still lying down on the pillow.

“She’s feisty in the morning!” Beca retorted, eliciting a smile from Chloe. They were face to face now. Inches from each other. Beca watched the soft morning light filter in over Chloe’s face. Her hair was shining. She could see each fleck of gold in Chloe’s big blue eyes. Beca couldn’t help but think how beautiful she looked.

The moments passed by silently as the girls enjoyed the most intimate moment either of them had experienced in a long time.

“Beca?”

“Yeah Chloe?”

“Would you be okay if I kissed you right now?”

Beca didn’t even give herself time to think before blurting out “Yes.” And in an instant, Chloe’s mouth was on hers. The kisses were delicate and sleepy, but full of the spark that had been building between them since the first time they sang together. When they needed to pull away for air, Beca took a moment to marvel at what was happening. “Woah.” She said, a look of incredulity on her face. “Did Chloe Beale just kiss me?”

Chloe nodded and the biggest smile spread across her face. “Sure did, Beca Mitchell.”

Chloe dove back in for more kisses and Beca eagerly responded, only interrupted by Beca’s brief cries of pain when Chloe’s hand accidentally wandered to the bump on the back of her head.

-

That afternoon Beca made her way back down the hall to her bedroom so she could get ready for the day. She ran into Fat Amy eating a popsicle on her bed.

“Amy, you’ll never believe what happened this morning.” Beca began.

“Let me guess, you finally sealed the deal with ginger?”

“How did-“

“It was my plan all along Beca! Do you think it’s a coincidence that I kicked you out of the room last night?”

“I thought you were seeing someone. ones. whatever.”

“I lied so you could get into Chloe’s room and make some music with your mouths.”

“Amy!”

“I TOLD you I would always give you ample warning when I had any gentleman callers! Because I’m a decent roommate, Beca, and I’m even better because I got you hooked up with your ladycrush.”

“Was it your plan for me to get a concussion too?”

“Sometimes you just have to seize the moment.” Fat Amy said, swinging her popsicle around emphatically.

“Wait a minute. Aren’t those the ones I bought?” Beca said, nodding at the popsicle.

“Ah yeah. See. I may have taken the last one as a reward for being a fantastic matchmaker-slash-roommate. I figured helping you get with Chloe would outweigh my poor decisions.”

Beca rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky Chloe is so great, otherwise you would owe me a new box of popsicles.”

The End.

[winterromanov]

look at where we’ve been (through time) - bechloe fic

based on a prompt from @isthemusictoblame who wanted a bechloe first date (round about). i really hope u like it xx

“Is it possible to actually, like, shit yourself from nerves?”

Beca scrutinises her reflection in the bedroom mirror for about the millionth time in the last hour, checking and double checking that she’s put enough concealer on that giant fucking zit that’s magically appeared overnight, quelle surprise. Maybe she should burst it. Would bursting it make it better or worse?

“Yeah,” Amy replies from across the room, flicking another page in her copy of Extreme Fishing. Beca stares back at her in the mirror, horrified. “Wait—did I say yes? I meant no. I definitely meant no. That’s happened to nobody, ever.”

Beca doesn’t exactly feel reassured. “Jesus Christ. What if I shit myself?”

“Wear extra absorbent underwear.”

“Amy, I’m going on a date. I’m wearing my sexiest underwear.”

“By sexiest underwear, do you mean your boxer shorts with the little dog faces on them? Because I’ve rummaged through your stuff enough times by now to know that they’re literally the only kind you own, you turnip.”

Okay, so that’s another thing she needs to add to her list of inappropriate things Fat Amy does to Beca’s shit when she’s not paying attention. Beca opens her mouth, but no words seem to come out. This happens a lot around Amy. She’s actually run out of reactions. Her jaw swings open and closed like a door on a loose hinge, until Amy finally looks up from her weird magazine.

“What?” Amy shrugs, “If you do want actual sexy underwear, ask Stacie. She gave me some great catalogs. The stuff is really cheap and barely worn. Honestly. The elasticity in this thong I got was pretty—“

“Please be quiet,” Beca interjects quickly, deciding to terminate that line of enquiry immediately, because the elasticity of Amy’s dodgy thongs is not something she wants to hear about right now. Suddenly self-conscious, Beca looks under the waistband of her tights, wondering what underwear she’s actually thrown on. “And for your information, my pants actually have cat faces on them today, so…”

“Oh, even worse,” Amy says dramatically, faceplanting her bedspread. “Nobody likes cats, Beca.”

Beca sticks her tongue out to Amy in her reflection. “Nobody likes you.”

“That right? I’m sure if you talked to Philippe, aged twenty-four, from Illinois, because that dude really liked those photos I sent him—“

“Can you actually speak like, one sentence without grossing me out?” Beca says exasperatedly. She tugs at where her shirt tucks into her skirt, wondering if it looks better in or out, or whether it fucking matters at all what she’s wearing. She’s never cared all that much before. “Anyway—who the fuck from Illinois has a name like Philippe?”

“I think he had a fetish for French stuff,” Amy says, like that’s totally normal, “He kept trying to get me to do weird things with garlic and this one time he sent me this video of him eating a snail. Like, a wild, free-range snail he’d found in the street.”

“That’s insane!”

“I know, right?” Amy seems to agree, “I was like, dude, but some seasoning on it at least!”

There’s silence, because Beca’s lost enough of her sanity already, and she’d ideally like to keep some of it intact for the rest of the evening. She decides to leave the shirt loose and wanders back over to her side of the room, reaching out for her phone. At the top of her notifications tray there’s a snapchat from Chloe. With a half-smile, Beca swipes it open.

It’s a picture of Chloe. Specifically, Chloe’s newly-shaved legs in a pair of the sexiest, patent-leather stilettos she’s ever seen, and Beca almost has a gay heart attack right there and then. The caption reads just for you!!! with alternating heart and fire emojis—god, she’s so fucking whipped, and it’s just the first date. God knows what she’s going to be like when she actually sees Chloe in person.

“You’ve got that face on.”

Beca’s cheeks flush bright pink as she quickly shuts off her phone and throws it on the nightstand. She pats her hair, trying to make it look like everything’s totally normal and not like she almost had an orgasm looking at a freaking photograph. “What are you talking about?”

“That face I always pull whenever Philippe sends me a pic of his huge French dick. Sort of like…” Amy opens her mouth wide, her eyes inflating twice their normal size, a hand pressed on her heart for effect. “You’ve got that face on. Has ginger sent you a tit-pic?”

“What?” Beca squeaks, “No!”

“Oh my god, has she sent you a cli—“

Beca throws a pillow at Amy to silence her, who takes the shot like a champ, collapsing onto her bed a la being-shot-by-a-flying-burrito style. “Dude. If you say one more word, I’m hacking into your email and cancelling your Extreme Fishing subscription.”

“Feel free,” Amy shrugs. She rolls up her copy and expertly aims it into the trash, where it sits amongst tampon wrappers and unfinished classwork. “I was ripped off. That magazine has nothing in it about how to fool stupid old men into thinking you’re a part-time Victoria’s Secret model and trauma surgeon online and loads about how to entice carp using natural bait. What the fuck?”

Beca nervously pads back over to the mirror, where the aforementioned zit is currently throbbing painfully and looks way redder than it did a few minutes ago. She groans loudly. “Oh my god. I look a mess. This is the first date I’ve had in months in and my whole body is totally not co-operating.”

Amy sighs, finally moving her ass from her bed and walking up to behind where Beca stands. “For the record, I don’t think you have to worry about what you look like whatsoever.”

“Really?”

“I mean, yeah, that zit on your chin is about the size of Pluto,” she supplies unhelpfully, “But Chloe doesn’t care about that shit. She only cares about seeing you—she’s mushy like that. You could rock up in a garbage bag and she’d be like wow, that bitch is hot, I wanna bang her right now.”

Beca smiles a little. Sure, Amy’s not the most eloquent of speakers when it comes to relationships and emotions and all that, but it does make her feel a bit better about the whole thing. She does have stupid underwear on and a huge spot and a ladder in her tights but Chloe has seen her at four am, vomiting over the toilet after slamming too much tequila. She’s seen her sobbing into a milkshake in the middle of the day after breaking up with Jesse. She’s seen her during finals week when she didn’t wash her hair for a whole seven days. That girl has seen her at rock bottom, yet still wants to take her messy, uncoordinated ass on a date.

“But, Beca,” Amy suddenly says in a real solemn tone, tearing her away from her thoughts, “You have to let me pop that zit.”

Beca darts away from Amy’s vicinity like that superhero from one of those stupid comicbook films Jesse loved—you know, the one with the silver hair that runs really fucking fast, but she can’t remember the name because her head is full of way more important stuff than superheroes—and throws her hand up, grabbing a hockey stick (that belongs to neither her or Amy) and using it as a makeshift cattle prod as Amy follows her around the room like a serial killer.

“You,” Beca swipes at her with the hockey stick, “Are not going anywhere near my face.”

“Come on, Beca, I’ve watched so many YouTube videos on it, I can pop them like a pro—“

“I’m leaving in literally ten minutes. I’m not letting you and your huge monster hands anywhere near my tiny face.”

“What will hurt more—me popping that zit right now for no payment, or Chloe’s look of horror when she sees the start of a mountain range emerging across your chin?”

“You just said she wouldn’t care!”

“Let’s face it, you’d have to be blind not to care about a zit that size and Chloe happened to mention to me the other day that she has perfect twenty-twenty vision. On her driving test she read a sign from a whole mile away, unbelievable, right?”

“Amy, that’s bullshit, you—no! NO! GET AWAY FROM MY FACE! HOLY SHIT, AMY!”

-x-

The whole date thing actually was unintentional. As in Beca didn’t start the day thinking she’d end it securing a date with Chloe Beale. Even though that wasn’t, like, something she thought about pretty much all the time or anything.

They’re sat on the balcony that juts out of Chloe’s attic room, their legs dangling into the abyss, watching as the hazy orange sky blurs into black. Chloe’s just been on her eighth unsuccessful Tinder date of the new year and Beca wonders why she keeps going back to that fucking app, especially when there’s so many people she encounters in her day-to-day that are actually kind-of nice and not ugly or creepy that would be desperate to date her and treat her like she deserves. Because she does. Deserve better. Much better than weird thirty-year-old cashiers with BO and a penchant for rushed sex in uncomfortable places.

“And then he got his dick out,” Chloe says dramatically, complete with hand gesture to make sure Beca completely understands, “Like, right there, in the middle of the restaurant?”

Beca snorts, taking a sip of beer. She passes the bottle to Chloe, who takes a generous swig, wiping her top lip. “Men are weird.”

“They are,” Chloe agrees, nodding sagely, “They totally are. Maybe I should swear off them. Go on a man detox or something.”

“Not a bad idea,” Beca says, like her motives aren’t totally selfish, “It’s kind of what I’ve done. After, you know, Jesse. I just swore off everything.”

Chloe sighs softly. Her arm reaches out and wraps round Beca’s shoulder and she finds herself melting into her, warm and soft jarring with the cold night air. “Still hurting about that, huh?”

“Not really. It’s just—I don’t think I’ve ever been on a good date, and that really put me off? I don’t know what’s wrong with me half the time. Because Jess—he was really nice and considerate and actually liked me, but every time we went out there was this voice going we could just do all this at home.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Chloe states plainly, resolutely. She takes another drink. “What floated his boat sank yours. You were stranded at the harbor while he sailed off. You’re the captain of your own ship, Becs. And maybe you didn’t have room for another sailor.”

Beca murmurs a laugh at the excessive nautical metaphors, but Chloe’s always like this when she’s a bit drunk, verbal diarrhoea all over the place. It’s adorable. “But I do want another sailor on my, uh, boat?”

(It’s really too bad that Chloe’s looking over the balcony and down onto the lawn, because then she would’ve seen the conviction Beca looks at her with, like she’s the only person in the whole wide world that Beca would even dream of being with right now and any time ever. They’re surrounded by stars and Beca’s fucking looking at her like she’s the brightest of them all, and Beca can’t believe what a sap she’s becoming.)

“Maybe you just need a good date,” Chloe says, “And I’m, like, the queen of dating.”

Beca suddenly sits up, narrowing her eyes a little. “Is this you asking me out?”

Chloe shrugs, trying to hide her smile and failing catastrophically, because maybe this is the point she’s always wanted to reach too. “Sure. And it’ll be the best date in the world, I can assure you.”

Beca laughs, a delirious and slightly drunken giggle in the back of her throat. She clamps a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I just can’t believe that this is happening.”

Chloe grins, leaning across and pressing a sloppy kiss to Beca’s cheek. Warmth explodes in Beca’s chest and she fights the urge to kiss her back, while she’s in this happy drunken bubble, because she’ll so regret it a few hours later when the buzz has worn off and she’s lying in bed, mapping the cracks in the ceiling.

“You’re my favourite captain,” Chloe says, her words slightly slurred, “You’d be such a bad-ass pirate. I can totally imagine you with a hat and a parrot and those big puffy pants all pirates wear.”

“You’re my favourite captain too,” Beca murmurs, “Because, like, there can be more than one captain.”

(The conversation has kind of lost its way, but it’s nice, and Beca would’ve stayed out there all night drinking beer with Chloe Beale if it didn’t start freaking raining seconds later. Fucking bitch weather always out to kill her vibe. And she totally does not scream that at the sky or anything.)

-x-

Chloe picks her up at seven thirty. Which is weird, considering they live in the same house.

“You didn’t need to ring the bell,” Beca says incredulously, Chloe stood on the doorstep. She’s wearing an off-the-shoulder floral dress that cuts just above her knees, a denim jacket and the same shoes from the photograph she sent earlier. She’s a fucking goddess. “You literally live here. You have keys.”

“I know, but the thought of someone picking me up for a date always gets me really excited, you know?” Chloe says, “I mean the surprise is kind of spoiled because you already know which car I drive, but I do have a brand new playlist I created on Spotify in preparation, and that kind of thing gets you way more excited than cars do.”

Admittedly, Beca is curious, and the effort is really touching so she lets the initial weirdness slide. “As long as there isn’t any Taylor Swift, I’m totally yours, dude.”

Chloe lifts her head. “I can’t promise that. She does have some non-breakup songs that completely fit the occasion. You look beautiful, by the way.”

The compliment is so honest and pure that it knocks some of the air out of Beca’s lungs, because Chloe just called her beautiful, and it’s the first time in a long time that she’s heard that from someone who actually means it (and who she wants to mean it). Chloe just called her beautiful on their doorstep in the most normal day in March, with a giant red splodge on her chin where Amy admittedly popped her zit successfully, and Beca wonders if she might end up remembering this day for the rest of her goddamn life.

“You look great too,” Beca says, which is an understatement, but whatever. “Now, where are you taking me?”

It turns out Chloe has booked a table at a really posh restaurant in the city, which makes Beca feel a little uncomfortable because she’s the kind of girl who is happier with takeaway pizza and sweatpants, but she trusts Chloe and her instincts. They end up at the top of a really tall building surrounded by glass and from their table they can see across the whole of Atlanta, beautiful and illuminated by artificial light. Before she sits Beca presses a hand against the window, waving at the world below.

“You like it?” Chloe asks, standing next to her. Their reflections blur, merging into one another, like for a moment they’re the same person. “Someone I used to work with recommended it to me. Told me it was like you were on top of the world.”

Beca grins; she’s on top of the world, but it’s not all because of the view.

-x-

Surprisingly, Beca doesn’t actually hate the date. For brief, dark seconds she imagines Jesse is the one sat in the chair opposite and her stomach turns, tangled with nerves, scared she’s going to do the wrong thing or say something stupid or embarrass herself in front of her boyfriend. But she blinks and there’s Chloe, grinning and talking madly, and she’s not anxious at all.

(Fuck you, Amy. Shitting has been avoided, absorbent underwear aside.)

They do cute couple-y things like hold hands across the table and share dessert and make other diners uncomfortable. It doesn’t bother her. It’s not new knowledge to her that some people are yet to be dragged into the twenty-first century. She lets Chloe chat the evening away, because listening to Chloe talk is like her favourite song over and over and over again.

When the waiter drops the extortionate bill Beca doesn’t want the night to end. Luckily, Chloe has no plans to.

“Do you wanna see something awesome?” she says, lips curled into a mischievous smile, and Beca would be a grade A idiot to say no to something like that.

“Oh, absolutely.”

-x-

Apparently Chloe knows the security guard who watches over the Atlanta Aquarium. All she does is flutter her eyelashes at the guy stood at the front desk while she’s outside and the doors creak open, letting the two of them in. She grabs Beca’s hand and pulls her through corridors of eerie, dark tanks, illuminated by pale blue lights. She finally stops at a tank that takes over a whole back wall, fish of all shapes and sizes and colours drifting together right in front of them. It’s completely silent, other than the whirr of filters, bubbles rising to the surface.

“For the record,” Beca says, quiet and breathless, “This is the kind of shit that only ever happens in John Green novels.”

“I love John Green novels,” Chloe replies, and when Beca turns, she’s somehow fished a whole bottle of rose wine from somewhere in her jacket. Beca just shakes her head out of disbelief. “Want to get drunk in an aquarium with me?”

Beca untwists the cap, taking the first drink. “As if you even had to ask that question.”

They sit down on the floor a few meters away from the glass and pass the bottle between them, toes of their shoes touching the tank. Beca watches as a fish doused in bronze swims out in front of them, face touching the glass. She lazily points out in front of them. “That one looks like you.”

Chloe snorts. “What, because it’s red?”

“Yeah. It’s red. Like you.”

“In that case,” Chloe leans out, clumsy fingertip landing where a near-microscopic fish internally lit up by a flash of electric blue sits unmoving. “That one looks like you.”

“Well, it’s a good job I’m no longer sensitive about height jokes. You lose.”

Chloe brings the bottle to her lips, taking a sip before speaking. “You know… I meant what I said earlier.”

Beca brushes a strand of her hair away from her face. “About what?”

“That you look beautiful,” Chloe answers matter-of-factly. Beca’s heart stops. “I just think—like, sometimes you need telling. That you are. Beautiful, I mean. I don’t think you believe it.”

Beca half-remembers some line Jesse used on her in freshman year, something about being halfway to his standard of beautiful, and how it didn’t really bother her at the time but after the breakup it kind of gnawed at her, like she was the person she is now because of him and what she thought he wanted. But Chloe… she’s never expected her to be anything, to look like anything. She just wants her to be Beca, whether that’s with the earspike or not, and maybe it took her too long to realise that. Jesse was nice, sure. But there was always this extra layer of expectation with him. Like—she wasn’t quite perfect, to him, and he was trying his hardest to make her that way.

She doesn’t want to be the perfect girlfriend. She likes being messy and nervous and a bit out of control, sometimes. And Chloe gets that. Chloe has always got that.

Beca takes a long drink, refusing to meet Chloe’s eye. She watches the fish, a beautiful, messy rainbow of colours and movement, and how that’s a bit like the Bella’s, this crazy group of crazy girls that somehow all work. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about—what would’ve happened to me, if you’d never violated me in the showers that day. Like where would I be right now, without the Bella’s? And without… well, you.”

Chloe shrugs nonchalantly, but Beca feels her shoulders tighten. “I don’t know, Becs. I don’t tend to dwell on what ifs. I like the here and now.”

Beca smiles into the bottle. “Yeah, I mean, the here and now is pretty good.”

“Yeah?” Chloe smiles back. Her feet reach out, her toes tapping against Beca’s. “I think it’s pretty good too.”

-x-

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Go for it, dude.”

“I was… really nervous about tonight. Like, really nervous.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah. Totally skitzing it. I rang up Aubrey in a total panic. Luckily she knocked some sense into me. You know what she’s like.”

“…What did Aubrey say? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“She said get a grip Chloe, this is Beca Mitchell we’re talking about, she might think she’s God’s gift but she’s really not that special.”

“Geez. She doesn’t live and let die, does she?”

“No, no, but—she also said that out of everyone, she’d never seen anyone make me so happy, so you mustn’t be all bad. Mostly, but not all.”

“…I make you happy?”

“Of course you do, weirdo. Before you rolled into my life there was, like, a huge Beca-shaped hole in it. Only I didn’t realise it was Beca-shaped at the time, but if I had that would’ve been a really weird coincidence, right?”

“Huh. Yeah. Right.”

-x-

(It’s weird, because there’s always been a hole in Beca’s life too, and it’s the kind of hole that’s made her feel completely and utterly empty for so many years, and when Jesse didn’t fill it she thought there was something seriously wrong with her. But then Chloe—she slipped in so effortlessly Beca didn’t even realise, and it knocks her for six, because an actual person has made her feel actually complete for once in her turbulent life and it happened so naturally that it passed her by, passed her perfectly, and everything is suddenly right.)

-x-

They finish the night where it all started. On Chloe’s balcony.

The wine is long gone but Beca knows where Jessica hides her secret stash (in the gap behind the fridge, FYI, she’s really not that stupid, Jess) so she brings back two full bottles, drops one in Chloe’s lap. She has no idea where the rest of the girls are but there’s music, bassy and loud, coming from the Treble’s House—a party she’s missing out on, perhaps, not that she cares.

“I think I’ve realised something,” Beca says, plonking herself down next to Chloe, their knees touching. Chloe lifts her head up as if to say oh? “Yeah. I don’t think I actually hate dating.”

“Oh!” Chloe squeals excitedly, “Have I officially converted you?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” Beca says, killing Chloe’s high with a grin when she looks like a wounded puppy, “No, it was great, I loved it. But—I’m thinking, maybe it wasn’t the dating I hated? Maybe it was the… company, I wasn’t happy with.”

Chloe grins quietly, staring down at her knees, where Beca’s hand rests on her own. Her fingers reach across, cover them, and Beca clings on like a lifeline. “What about now?”

“This company,” Beca says, raising their intertwined hands, studying them carefully like she’s working them out. She nods resolutely. “I think this company is kind of alright.”

It would be just wrong for Chloe not to lean across and kiss her.

-x-

“By the way, that picture you sent me was, like, smoking hot.”

“Oh, you liked it?”

“Chlo, Amy thought I was looking at porn, that’s how much I liked it.”

“Well… there’s plenty more where that came from.”

“There better be. You know I’m only dating you for sexy photos, right?”

“Yeah. Totally. I knew that was a given the minute I asked you out.”

“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page. It would be a bit embarrassing if we weren’t.”

“Good.”

“Awesome.”

“Cool.”

“…Should we kiss again?”

“That sounds like a great plan.”

“Awesome.”