Aubrey felt Beca moving before she heard the sound she made – a God-awful noise, sort of like the sound a raccoon had made when she had shot it off of their front porch (it had been getting into their trash and Aubrey was tired of cleaning it up every day after work. Plus, it looked like it had rabies, with it foaming at the mouth, so Aubrey didn't feel too bad about it). Beca'd been complaining about not feeling too well last night, but hadn't really explained what it was, and certainly hadn't explained enough to reveal why she'd be making such an awful sound at four-thirty-in-the-morning.
When Beca didn't move again after a few seconds, Aubrey sighed and opened her eyes, taking a second to adjust to being fully awake again. "Beca?" She questioned quietly.
There was no response, and Aubrey tried again. When Beca remained quiet, she turned her to look at her brand-new wife – her wife – and from the expressionless look on the brunette's face, it was easy to tell she was still wrapped up in the strong arms of Morpheus. Maybe Aubrey had imagined the sound? Beca was prone to moving while unconscious, so maybe that was what had woken her up, and not the sound.
She quickly fell back to bed and drifted off.
Her eyes snapped open and she jolted up. That damn sound. Again. It couldn't have been more than an hour or two since she had fallen asleep.
She wasn't imagining it.
But what in the hell would cause Beca to make that sound? Was she dying? She hoped not, looked over to see Beca covered in a sheen of sweat, sheets sticking to her, hair slicked to her forehead.
Alive. That was good. So why –
And Beca made the sound, again. God, that was an awful sound. She reached over and shook her arm lightly, trying to wake Beca up before she opened her mouth again. It didn't work, and her ears were subjected to that ghastly racket again, hands covering her ears immediately while Beca's body lurched forward in a near seizure.
"Beca!" Aubrey screeched, tired of being gentle.
It was still no use, and the diminutive woman continued slumbering on, unperturbed by the blonde's efforts. Aubrey clambered out of their bed and into the bathroom, the early light of the sun peaking through the windows and warming up the tile floor. She splashed some water on her face, then picked up her toothbrush and brushed her teeth, forcing herself to not jump at every noise she heard; however, when Beca decided it was time to make her eardrums bleed again, she couldn't help the squeak she let out, toothbrush flying from her hand and spittle spraying from her mouth.
"Dammit, Beca," Aubrey shrieked, "wake up!" When again Beca didn't respond, Aubrey quickly cleaned up, wiping the white foam from her face with a washcloth and rinsing her mouth out. She filled up a medium-sized cup with cold water half-way full, then quickly moved back to the bedroom and moved to Beca's side of the bed. She nudged the woman again, shaking her back and forth fiercely, getting back only a pitiful groan in response – she was still asleep. Why did Beca have the ability to sleep through damn near everything? It was such a nuisance.
Oh well. Time for plan B. She grinned to herself, happy to finally end her torture, and poured the cup of water out slowly, directly onto Beca's face.
Beca shot up, sputtering the water out of her mouth, gasping for air. The smile on Aubrey's face widened – she loved her wife, true, but antagonizing Beca was a pastime, something she looked forward to every day. Perhaps she should have had pity on Beca for being sick, but she couldn't be faulted for wanting to preserve her sanity.
It took a few seconds before Beca was able to talk – or try to talk, because all that came out of her mouth was a jumbled-up sound, as if her throat was clogged and she was trying to talk around it. Which would make sense but didn't fully explain the sound.
"Are you awake now, Be-ca?" Aubrey teased.
The unamused expression on Beca's face made Aubrey giggle, and when Beca tried to respond, she made an awful hacking sound. Aubrey's delight dimmed, and she frowned worriedly. "Are you okay Beca?" Beca shook her head no, skin flushed and simultaneously pale. "You look awful, babe. Where does it hurt?"
There was a few seconds pause as Beca must've been examining herself. She pointed to her throat, either in too much pain to talk, or unable to talk. Both worried her, especially when Beca also pointed to her chest. "Can you talk to me?" Beca shook her head in the negative. "Does it hurt too much, or are you actually not able to?"
Beca raised her hand up, forefinger extended while the rest were clenched in a loose fist. "Okay, that's good. Better than the second option." Aubrey released a deep breath, and motioned for Beca to scoot over, sitting herself on the newly vacated area of their bed. She grabbed some of the sheets and began gently wiping Beca's face clear of any water – sweat or otherwise. "Do you need some water to drink?"
Beca relaxed her neck and nodded her head yes, then scooted up into a sitting position while Aubrey ran to the sink to fill the cup up fully. She returned in a short moment and cupped the back of Beca's head as she gently eased the cup to her wife's lips, letting the brunette drink slowly. When she had drank her fill, Beca pushed the cup away and let her eyes downturn, pouting.
"Can you talk now?" Beca's pout turned into a glare, and Aubrey set the cup on the nightstand, hands raised up in a surrender. "Okay, I get it. You can't talk." Aubrey placed her hand on Beca's forehead, and continued, "Let me get some Advil for you, sweetheart. And a whiteboard so we can communicate better. Does that work?" A nod yes and Aubrey was hurrying to the pantry downstairs, grabbing the medicine, then scurrying to the office and nabbing the dry-erase board and the accompanying markers and eraser.
When Aubrey made it back, Beca's eyes were closed, but her breathing was much too irregular to be asleep. As much as she complained, Beca made an adorable sick person, clinging to Aubrey for everything, refusing to do anything without her wife helping her. Aubrey shook her tenderly, "Beca? Can you take this and finish the rest of your water?" The blonde set the board down on Beca's lap, picked up the cup of water. She held the two pills between her forefinger and thumb and waited for Beca to open her mouth, placing the pills on her tongue before returning the cup to Beca's mouth. Beca took the water and swallowed a few times until the cup was light and empty and Aubrey placed it back on the nightstand before sitting on the bed again. Aubrey could tell that drinking the water hadn't been pleasant, but the brunette soldiered through it, with barely a grimace of pain – though it looked like she was hiding it more than anything, trying to hold up a semblance of her broody exterior.
"Can you open your mouth, Beca? I want to see what your throat looks like." Beca opened her mouth slowly, and Aubrey picked Beca's phone up from beside the bed, turned the flashlight on, and gently pulled Beca's face towards her, shining the light inside of her mouth. She nodded at the white spots in the throat, said, "Just what I thought. You've got strep, sweetheart. You're quite lucky I thought to get some Z-packs on our honeymoon." Aubrey smiled at Beca before turning the flashlight off, letting go of Beca's cheeks, and Beca's lips responded in a similar fashion, though she was more subdued, thinking back to the blue water and white beaches in Mexico.
Beca moved her hands to the white board, and started writing, and a second later, gave the board to Aubrey with a single word written on it: Cuddle? Aubrey smiled. "Let me get the antibiotics, and then we can stay in bed and cuddle for the rest of the day. Does that sound good?" She received a slight forward movement of Beca's head as a response – so miniscule that Aubrey couldn't help the coo that came out of her mouth. A sick wife was an adorable wife, that much was true, and it was especially true with Beca.
Aubrey was quick to grab the antibiotics and refill the cup up with water, repeating the process of hand feeding Beca again. She settled back onto Beca's side of the bed, laying down and pulling Beca's head onto her chest, threading her fingers through the wet strands, her other hand sliding up and down her wife's arm.
"I love you, Beca. I hope you feel better. Go to sleep now, babe," Aubrey murmured into Beca's hair, placing a kiss onto her temple.
Beca nodded her head slightly, speaking into Aubrey's chest: "Love you, Bree." Her eyebrows were scrunched up in pain, and her lips held a grimace as she did so, but Aubrey was relieved to hear the brunette's voice, her chest clenching tightly at the sound. Even though she was sick and her voice was raspier than Stevie Nicks', Aubrey's heart grew full of love at how much pain Beca was putting herself through just to tell her that she loved her. She squeezed her tightly, pulled her even further into her chest.
Beca looked like she was trying to fall back to sleep, but she was unable too, mind most likely racing a bit too much for her liking. Beca reached around to her back, grabbing the board, marker and eraser, cleaning the board off before writing another question down and showing it to Aubrey: Music? Something soft, please. Aubrey smiled. She knew just the thing.
When the opening sound of Speak to Me came through the small speaker, the song's reassuring heartbeat lulled Beca back to Aubrey's chest, and she nuzzled into her soft breast. Beca's mouth opened slightly, and she dozed back off; Aubrey puffed her cheeks out, slowly letting the air leak through her lips as she joined her.
The sound exploded into her ears, again, jolting her awake and Aubrey's body went so taut that Beca rolled off of her and onto the bed with a loud oomph. "Jesus, Beca, what the fuck was that?" Aubrey exclaimed, rubbing her ears.
Beca groaned, opened her mouth, let out the beginning of a word, then stopped. Her eyes were watering in pain, and Aubrey immediately began apologizing. "Oh my aca-God, Beca. I am so sorry. You just startled me. Can I do anything, sweetie?" Aubrey probed.
Beca grabbed the board again, wrote down, Sorry. It was a sneeze.
Aubrey pulled Beca back to her chest, said, "That was a sneeze? It sounded like an animal dying. How have I never heard you sneeze before?" Beca shrugged, kissed the flannel-pajama covered shoulder in front of her, and Aubrey snorted. "That is the ugliest sneeze I've ever heard in my entire aca-life. You do it again, and you're sleeping on the couch."
The brunette turned her head up to face her wife with her eyes pinched tightly, lips parted, the tip of her tongue out, glaring. Aubrey gripped Beca's side tightly, asking for forgiveness and received a soft sigh through the woman's congested nose in response.
Aubrey laid her head on the pillow, thoughts about sickness running through her mind. Now forced to think about it, she realized that while she had cared for Beca while she was sick, she truly had never heard her sneeze; her illnesses always seemed to be a stomach bug or appendicitis – and she got chicken pox twice, somehow. But never congested, never snotty and definitely never sneezing. It must've made the pain that much worse, having strep and a cold. Her heart ached for Beca in sympathy, knowing the petite woman would be able to tough it out, but the knowledge of Beca wanting to cuddle her for the rest of their lazy Saturday made her feel a bit more joyous.
When the Eclipse of the album began playing, Beca relaxed into the comfort provided to her and let the words of Pink Floyd wash over her.
All that you touch
And all that you see
All that you taste
All you feel
And all that you love
And all that you hate
All you distrust
All you save
And all that you give
And all that you deal
And all that you buy
Beg, borrow or steal
And all you create
And all you destroy
And all that you do
And all that you say
And all that you eat
And everyone you meet
And all that you slight
And everyone you fight
And all that is now
And all that is gone
And all that's to come
And everything under the sun is in tune
But the sun is eclipsed by the moon
It was a few hours later – a few hours in which Beca hadn't sneezed – when the two felt truly conscious enough to get out of bed and get some food to eat. Aubrey felt as Beca rolled off of her, stretched her arms and opened her mouth in a wide yawn, feeling better than she had a bit ago. Aubrey repeated the motions Beca had performed, falling back onto the bed dramatically when she finished.
When Beca's stomach made a grumbling noise, Aubrey swung her head to look at her, cocking her eyebrow questioningly, nodding towards the board that was laying haphazardly on the bed. "Do you want to eat in bed, or would you rather eat in the kitchen?" Aubrey's voice had turned slightly raspy, and Beca squeezed her hand before releasing and grabbing the board.
With you, Beca transcribed, and Aubrey smiled.
"You're quite clingy when you're sick, you know that," Aubrey teased. She shuffled out of bed, pulling back the sheets so Beca's warm skin could slide out easily.
Before the girl got out of bed, she cleared the board and filled it back up with ink, and playful look on her face: I have a trophy wife. Sue me for wanting to stare.
An undignified snort escaped the blonde's lips and she smacked the back of her hand against Beca's stomach, rolling her eyes. "I don't think there's much to stare at when I'm covered up like this, pervert." She gestured with her hand to her full body, matching red and brown flannel pajamas. "Plus," she continued, "I'm not the trophy wife. You're the trophy wife. Who's the one that's invited to fancy dinners with you on their arm?"
Beca was quick to respond, scrawling, Whatever. Just strip, please.
Another good-natured roll of her eyes and Aubrey made an exasperated sound. "When did you become Stacie?" Beca's whole response was a shrug as the woman turned her body to the side, tips of her toes dangling against the carpet. "Can you brush your teeth? I'll meet you downstairs, okay?" Beca nodded her agreement, and Aubrey headed to the closet, changing into something a small bit more provocative – a tight white shirt and a pair of leggings – before heading out the door and down the hall to the kitchen of their modest one floor, three-bedroom home.
It was only a few minutes later when Aubrey felt Beca's hand caress the firm flesh of her ass, and she spun around, lightly smacking the hand with her wooden spoon. "I'm cooking! And you're sick. If you get me turned on, I'm just going to have to take care of myself and I know you hate being forced to watch."
Beca huffed, then started writing on the board: Just a simple squeeze?
Aubrey shook her head no, then turned back around and checked Beca's food. As she put the spoon back into the pot, Beca's hands began rubbing up and down her back, nails scratching lightly. "Aren't I supposed to be the comforting one? Or are you just trying to butter me up?"
She turned around quickly as Beca held her hand back up, forefinger and middle finger extended, the other three clinched together. Aubrey nodded understandingly, reaching across the counter to pull a bowl out and spooning the broth and rice noodles into it. She placed the bowl on the counter, changing her mind. "One squeeze, Beca. Only because you're sick."
She heard Beca's hair rustle – she assumed she was nodding excitedly – and felt her wife's hands rubbing her ass. Beca continued along that vein for nearly a minute and Aubrey started growing impatient, "Hurry up, Becs. Your food is going to get cold."
Beca responded quickly – and firmly – kneading the flesh with both hands and nuzzling her nose into her neck. Aubrey gasped and pressed back into the hands. "Be-ca, God, y-you n-e-e-e-d to stop," Aubrey gasped, "or you're going to m-miss o-out." She felt the hands slide off of her rear and she picked the bowl back up, swinging around and placing it into Beca's out stretched palms. They both liked touching Aubrey's rear end a little too much – it was their obsession.
Aubrey took a second to collect herself before speaking, "Eat. It should be the right temperature." She turned Beca around by the shoulders and marched her to the breakfast nook, pulling the chair out at the table and helping her sit down.
The brunette used her left hand and mimed writing, taking the spoon that Aubrey had procured out of thin air with her right. Aubrey understood and walked over to the island, picking up the board and assorted accessories from where Beca must've placed them, before heading back to the table and sitting next to her wife.
Beca took the proffered items and scribbled, Thank you. Still hurts. She looked up at Aubrey with a pout, evidently asking for something from Aubrey – and she couldn't quite figure out just what she wanted.
Aubrey pointed back to the board, said, "If you need something, tell me."
For the first time that morning, Beca was hesitant, before worked up the courage to ask. Can we cuddle on the couch while I eat?
The blonde smirked. "Of course you want to cuddle." As she stood up, she muttered under her breath, "Cuddle-slut."
Beca gasped – or as what constituted as gasping for her – and placed her hand to her chest, using her other hand to furiously scribble on the board. I am not! The word not was underlined several times and Aubrey shook her head condescendingly.
"You try to deny it, but I remember walking in on you clinging to Chloe like you were about to die during your freshman year. And every time I visited you after I graduated, you were cuddling with someone – Chloe usually, but Stacie, Emily, Ashley, Jessica and even Amy once – when I walked into the Bellas house."
Beca shrugged shyly, her secret found out. You're my favorite? She wrote.
Aubrey sighed, then nodded her head. "Come on, let's go." She grabbed Beca's white board and followed behind Beca on their way to the living room. She settled into the cushions, laying down, placing the board on the table next to the couch and patted the space between her legs. She took Beca's broth as her wife snuggled into her body, back against front, then handed the bowl back. "Better?"
She felt a firm nod against her chest, as she had closed her eyes for a brief second, thinking to how they got there. They'd been dating for four years before they had gotten engaged and married, starting their relationship after Aubrey had graduated. Aubrey was beyond relieved that her and Beca had been able to continue antagonize each other even after their first date, because it was fun, getting under each other's skin – at least when they were doing it out of love and not anger.
Beca quickly finished her soup, barely making a sound, before she set the bowl on the coffee table, then rested her head back and signaled for the remote. Aubrey obliged, and Beca was soon scrolling through their queue of shows to watch. "Can we watch Ozarks?"
Beca shook her head no, then paused on Queer as Folk, waiting for Aubrey's opinion. The blonde let out a short, "No." When Beca twisted around to glare at her, she continued, "It's too… queer." Beca's face turned into a look of severe confusion and she raised her eyebrows.
After a second, Beca nodded, then fell back into her original position, authoring a new board message. Do you not like lesbians suddenly?
Aubrey giggled lightly. "Lesbians are gross. I'm glad I'm not one." She received a slap on her arm for her comment, then read Beca's board again.
You've literally never touched a male, dude.
"Touché," Aubrey agreed. It was true. She blew the air out of her lungs and changed the subject. "How about…." Aubrey took a second to think. "30 Rock? Seinfeld? The Office?" She rattled off quickly. Beca shook her head at each one, then quickly flipped from Netflix to Hulu. The hand that wasn't filled with the remote grabbed Aubrey's as the TV settled on Archer. "Again, Beca? I'm vetoing this."
Beca shrugged, wrote, I'm sick. My choice.
Aubrey groaned out, "Fine. But only because you're sick. And it better not be any of the crap from the cocaine season on." She pretended to be upset, but Beca's pleased smile erased any reservations she had about the show. "I love you." She squeezed both arms tight around Beca's waist, placed a kiss on her temple, then relaxed fully into the couch.
She heard Beca whisper out, "Love you."
Aubrey truly was a lucky woman.