AN: Hi everyone, this is based on how my uncle met his wife and I just think it's a cute story, and Beca and Chloe are cute too.

Rated M for harsh language because: Beca

Enjoy!


20 years later than planned


"Mitchell's Records and New Sound Studios, this is Beca speaking."

She's bored. Dear fucking god she's bored. A phone call right now is a welcome distraction, but it's really the lesser of two evils because fuck no she doesn't want to have to communicate with anyone.

"Hi, Beca!" the caller practically sings and Beca squeezes her eyes tightly willing away the impending headache, "My name is Chloe Beale and I'm head of the Barden Elementary School Fair Planning Committee."

Beca nearly hangs up. She so nearly does, her thumb even hovers over the disconnect button but she doesn't. That's bad customer service.

"Um, hi… Chloe," she tries, she always does, to be peppy, friendly and approachable, but her chronic case of resting bitch face always somehow seeps into her voice.

She sort of knows Chloe, they did go to high school together but barely spoke and were never really friends. Beca used to admire Chloe from afar but being only 17 didn't realise those feelings were in fact on the lady-lovin' end of her bisexual spectrum. Chloe had gone to a fancy college up in New York after they graduated. They all thought they'd seen the last of her when she moved to Cambodia to teach underprivileged children but came back years later to be a teacher at the elementary school, a ball of sunshine and genuine smile gushing about coming home to her roots.

Now, the town they live in is almost big enough to almost be a part of the nearby city, and everyone kind of knows anyone who's anyone. Like heads of school committees.

Chloe either doesn't notice the tired voice or chooses to ignore it because she barrels on with all the vigour of a young kid on a sugar high.

"We are a close-knit, driven group of ladies whose dream is to run the best fair this town's ever seen," Beca can practically hear the hopeful grin in Chloe's voice, "help turn our dreams into a reality?"

"I um, well… first of all, yikes," Beca stumbles, Chloe sounded more like she was appealing for the sick children than… whatever it is Chloe wants.

"Yeah… I guess, how?" Beca winces at the awkward delivery and hurries to fix it, "I mean sure I'd love to, how can I help?"

Chloe giggles and continues, "Well, we'd like some music, obviously, and who better to supply it than Barden's most respected music store!"

"Right…" Beca pauses.

"We'd love for you to sponsor the event, or simply do the music. Basically we were hoping DJ Mitchell would spin for us?" Chloe chuckles goofily, "Drop some mad-lib beats."

Beca squeezes her eyes shut, cringing. Dear lord. But sponsorship always looks good in the community, she can handle the slang, years of it has hardened her.

"Or she could simply make music for it? Compile a playlist?"

"She?"

"DJ Mitchell."

"Oh, oh yeah obviously," she starts pacing, idly twirling the phone cord around her pinky.

"So… could I maybe speak to her… or a manager?"

Beca blanches, does she not sound old enough to be the manager, let alone the owner? She's 36 for crying out loud.

"I am the manager," she states firmly, lips pressed firm.

Chloe doesn't falter, "could you contact DJ Mitchell, then?"

Beca waits, internally battling with herself, hands flailing aimlessly.

"Well, uh, see, DJ Mitchell hasn't exactly done anything, done a gig that is, in nearly 9 years," Beca anxiously runs a hand through her hair.

"I'm aware."

Goddamnit Chloe.

"What makes you think she'd come back?"

"Why did she ever leave?" Chloe's voice is challenging, like she knows the person she's talking to, is in fact, DJ Mitchell.

"Career change, had a kid, who knows?!" Beca retorts defensively, but droops, the weight of the truth hanging just a little heavy over her head, "maybe things just didn't work out the way she thought they would."

"I hear inklings of the truth in your tone of voice," the words are serious but Chloe's voice is gentle.

Beca tosses up her options. It couldn't hurt to just stand at the fair and press buttons and twiddle dials, right? Or she didn't even need to do that, she could just send the playlist. Or apologise and hang up on red cordial Chloe, out of her responsibility, out of mind.

"I guess I could be a sponsor for the fair."

Jesus, Beca, caved that quickly.

"Who, DJ Mitchell?"

Beca sighs, resigned, "this is her, yes, I'll 'drop mad-lib beats' for you."

Working in the music industry meant Beca had spent a lot of time around loud music and thumping bass that reverberated in her skull. The headaches that accompany hangovers, which progressively got worse the further into her twenties she got, were enough to make a beat of her own as they pounded in her head every morning. Screaming crowds that left her ears ringing come morning were her norm on weekends, but nothing had prepared her for the excited squeal that assaulted her through the receiver. The tinny noise pierced through her eardrums, causing Beca to launch the phone halfway across the front counter. The coiled cord stretching before springing back, smacking her neatly in the chin. A good shot which would be funny to watch back on the security footage, but hurt like a bitch. She'd have to go through and delete that before Stacie could get her hands on it.

Frantically scrabbling for the dangling receiver, Beca somehow manages to haphazardly press the earpiece to her head and respond. Thank whoever that she's working alone this afternoon.

"Oh em aca-gee, DJ Mitchell I'm such a fan!"

Chloe's professional, bake-sale mom demeanour has completely dropped and a semblance of high school Chloe's general excitement for life shines through.

"Yeah, um, yeah, thanks," Beca drawls, ungracefully untangling herself from the phone cord.

"It's so nice to meet you!" Chloe squeals, "Well, talk, 'cause we're on the phone but… yeah you get the idea."

Should she mention it? Mention how they have in fact met, shared a drab soul-sucking classroom where Ms Keane taught them biology with all the enthusiasm of a wet dish towel. Hell, it would be awkward not to, right? But then again, does anyone really want or need to be reminded of those years. Everyone was pimplier, bitchier and the trends of the time should never see the light of day again.

Beca can almost feel the tension from the elephant in the room, and it's through a bloody phone. For goodness sake, she can't even keep her cool and Chloe's not even in the same room. Besides Chloe surely wouldn't remember little (quite literally) old Beca.

"Well-"

"I should say meet again… You remember the high school days, right?"

Beca blows out a puff of air she didn't even know she was holding, thank fuck she didn't need to make that decision.

"Unfortunately. Wasn't sure if you even remembered me…"

Chloe laughs, and it's as sweet and real as Beca remembers, and just like that it's not awkward anymore.

"Don't be silly Beca, you weren't as invisible as you think. You and your heavy eyeliner, Doc Martens, ear-piercings…?" Chloe teases, biting back a giggle.

Beca groans, "Dear god, please stop."

"It was such a look, you were a walking lone-wolf stereotype."

"Hey we all express ourselves differently at that age."

"Oh of course," Chloe's voice becomes excessively serious, "we needed to find ourselves."

Beca bites her lip, fighting back the wave of embarrassment that coursed through her body.

"Well, I'm not apologising, I was a hit with the boys."

"Uh huh, and that was the be-all and end-all of high school."

"Of course," Beca says seriously, eyebrows knitting together even though Chloe can't see.

Chloe laughs again, sweeter than sugar.

"And don't go attacking me about stereotypes, you were Little Miss Prom queen, with your blonde-hair blue-eyed cheerleader style," Beca ribs back, "you weren't fooling anyone with that."

"I'll have you know I was the nicest girl in school," Chloe responds haughtily, but the giggle that follows softens the defence, "Besides, I've darkened to red now."

Beca smiles at the back and forth, then catches herself. What're they doing, two 30-somethings bantering about high school? It's unusual, and Beca feels like they should stop, they were never really friends. Beca catches herself again, for the opposite reason. Isn't that what stopped her all through high school? She never spoke back because she assumed she and Chloe were never really friends, but they were never really friends because they never spoke. Jesus, Beca after all these years, you've worked out the idiotic cycle you threw yourself dramatically into.

Marching headlong into the brambles that are anxiety, she continues chatting, "Wait, so you're a redhead now?"

Chloe hums affirmation, and Beca is struck with an image of 17 year old Chloe Beale with flaming locks. Beca's only known her as the endlessly pretty blonde. It's-

"Weird. That's a weird mental picture."

"It's much less shocking in real life. Especially because I'm old now."

"Old? What do you mean old, we're not that old," Beca laughs.

Chloe was only a little older than herself. Months older not years.

"We're 36, Beca."

"You say that like we're preparing for retirement," Beca grins, "Hurtling like old grey mares towards the days of botox and smelling like mashed potato."

Chloe laughs, and Beca feels positively warm knowing she did that.

"Help, I've fallen and can't get up," Chloe groans, putting on a crotchety old lady voice.

Beca giggles, and what the fuck did she just giggle. First off she's a badass, second she's 36 and third she's a badass.

"Where did the years go?" Chloe sighs, whimsical.

"Devoured by our careers and desperation for sorting out our lives before we turned 27?"

"Speak for yourself," Beca can hear Chloe's grin, "But do tell, what did the Badass Beca Mitchell get up to after high school? I'll admit, I followed you a little when you did a bit of DJ'ing, but you dropped off the radar."

"She did exactly what you'd expect a delinquent child to do, forced off to college by her father, met a boy," Beca stops, afraid to reveal too much.

"Aw, who's the boy?" Chloe's voice has a playful lilt to it now.

"Jesse, boyish good looks, perfect husband."

Chloe 'aw's and Beca realises 'woops', that sounds like they're still a happy working class family. Dear god, two 30-somethings bantering and gossiping about boys over the phone.

"Well, you'd think but a divorce doesn't reflect that," Beca can't help the tinge of bitterness that laces her tone, and she cringes because she's ruined a nice moment again.

Chloe pauses, the first sign of potential discomfort, "well… what happened?"

"Does it matter now if it didn't work out," Beca sighs, leaning back against the counter and looking up at a photo of them in their college days.

He may be an ex, but Jesse is her children's father, and a friend.

Chloe is silent on the other end for a long time. Is it hot in here, suddenly she's sweating uncomfortably.

"Shit, I'm sorry that was depressing, I don't know why I said that," Beca immediately apologises.

"Don't apologise for feeling things," Chloe's voice is so gentle and kind, it makes Beca want to cry.

Because yeah, she does feel things and fuck if she hasn't been harbouring them since her divorce. She and Jesse had been good, easy. She was a girl he was a boy (her brain briefly sings the riff of Sk8r Boi, wtf), he was cute, boyishly dashing and loved music as much as she did. Looking back, she could see the red flags. Jesse, as charming as he was, subtly needed everything to go the way he imagined, and Beca was his leading lady. He was lost in a movie. He engaged to her in an extravagant, public way, serenading her and sliding on his knees to end in front of her, ring in hand and hopeful grin amped to max power. Even their wedding was something else; champagne, sunset, autumn leaves, and there were at least two horses involved. At the reception, they danced to some fabulous movie score that Beca hadn't even known. She'd fallen for the flowers and that smile, and the illusion that that was what she needed to be doing at 26.

They started on kids when they were 27, just like honest working couples did. That was probably the beginning of the end. Their first child, a beautiful young girl they named Madison, was so impossibly small and fragile to them, it made Jesse crazy protective. Which was sweet, but damaging. They argued about it so much that Beca became desensitised to whatever Jesse was worrying about. She let him do what he wanted, which included a second kid, little Jared, and Jesse was better but the core problems still infested their relationship. He wasn't malicious and never physically abused her, but he was manipulative about how the kids were raised which meant she hardly felt like a mother and more like a babysitter. In retrospect, it had gotten really bad by the time her mother snapped her out of whatever daze she had been lulled into and called for a divorce. Textbook example of the boiling frog metaphor. By 31 she was single with two kids, with not really any direction for her near future.

So back to her hometown it was. She started a business with her old friend Stacie, and worked her way up from there, no specific end goal in mind but just to get by, and keep the business afloat. Thankfully, her pull as a mildly successful producer helped the store with reputation and now, now it's a known brand. Beca scoffs at her choice of words, 'brand', as though it were LA. Whatever, not the point.

Beca hurriedly clears her throat, "Yeah, well, uh… feelings are a beast to deal with…"

Fuck, she's floundering.

"Y'know, I never pegged you for ever settling down," Chloe mercifully cuts in, deceptively oblivious.

"Neither did I, but adulthood changes a lot," Beca sighs with relief, and sends a prayer to Chloe, her hand pressed to her heart and eyes turned skyward.

There's a lull in the conversation, and it's not awkward, much to Beca's surprise.

"So," Beca clears her throat, "I'll bring my fancy equipment, I have a few fun interactive light thingies for the kids."

There's a sharp intake of breath as Chloe catches up, "Oh! Yes, definitely bring that."

"What time?"

"Huh?"

"What time should I bring the stuff? To Barden Elementary I assume,"

"Oh, well how long will it take to set up? The fair starts at 11am and ends at 3pm, and yes, it's just in the school quad."

"Perhaps 9am to be safe, then?"

"Sure. Oh, and feel free to call me and set up a meeting at the location to scout out the size and all that jazz."

"Kid friendly music, I assume?" she holds the phone between her cheek and shoulder and grabs the nearest bit of paper.

"Gosh, yes of course, which is tricky in this day and age but you're talented, Beca."

"Damn right I am," Beca mutters to herself as she writes down a few reminders.

"I heard that," Chloe laughs, "Still a cocky little shit, I see?"

"The one that Aubrey Posen couldn't get enough of," Beca smirks, remembering how easy it was to piss off her blonde volleyball captain.

"Don't tell Bree, but I always secretly loved watching you get under her skin," Chloe stage whispers.

Beca laughs, "You were watching me, Beale?"

"Like I said, Mitchell, you weren't as invisible as you though," Chloe throws back, "besides, isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?"

Beca feels her face heat up and go red. That was loaded.

"I don't think I know what you mean," she thinks she manages to keep a steady voice.

For fuck's sake, she's an adult now, Chloe does not get to make her nervous anymore!

"I always wondered if you may have had the littlest crush on me, Mitchell," Chloe's voice has a playful lilt, but it's charged.

Beca screams internally. She could really use a hole in the ground right now.

"A lot of people admired you from afar," Beca chooses her words carefully, and still kicks herself at the choice.

"So you admired me from afar?"

"I never said that."

"Beca."

Beca sucks her lips between her teeth and squeezes her eyes shut. Christ above is she really about to do this nervous 'I was in like like with you but that was nearly 20 years ago'.

"Yeah. Yeah, maybe I was in like like with you."

There's a small squeak of victory from the other end of the line and Beca rolls her eyes.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

Beca tries so hard not to grin like an idiot, but talking to Chloe just flows, and it's easy to relax and enjoy.

"I always kind of wish you'd talked to me."

Beca's stomach drops at the confession, and she feels… disappointed? All those years they could have been friends. Or more. Did that sentence mean anything? Was Chloe hinting at something? Should she say something smooth and vaguely flirtatious? Instead Beca responds with a most eloquent question, perfectly worded and exactly how she'd planned in her head-

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?" Chloe laughs, "I guess I was just curious about the odd 'alt-girl' that Aubrey so desperately hated."

"Well, maybe if she'd got to know me we would have been best of friends and happily sung kumbaya around a campfire," Beca scoffed as she absently picked a bit of lint.

"Wow you really had that thought out."

Beca doesn't dignify that with a response, instead huffs indignantly. It leaves another silence. Again, not awkward.

"Well, um…" Chloe sounds shy, and for the first time in perhaps ever, unsure.

"Yeah, you should, ah…" floundering, again.

Typical.

"It was really nice talking to you again, Beca."

It's the way Chloe says her name that causes something deep within her to blink to life again. A faint flutter that ticked away in her heart whenever Chloe Beale was involved. Something that had been dormant for so long, pushing through the dirt and flowering in a place that had been churned up and nearly ruined. Somewhere that Beca hadn't realised anything would grow again.

Ask her, you should ask her. Ask her.

"So, Chloe," Beca blurts out, hoping she sounds much more suave than she looks, feels or expects. She feels a surge of confidence, just a pissy little spark but it's there and she latches onto it like Hugh Carter from kindergarten did to her way back then, "when do I get to take you out?"

There's silence on the other end and Beca's eyeballs burn from the embarrassment raging through her.

Why the fuck would she think that was a good idea. She can imagine the verbal lashing her brain is giving to her heart right now. She's already planning her escape, Stacie could totally handle the store on her own if Beca fled the country, or if she just never showed her face in this town again. The supermarket delivered didn't they? Her kids hadn't picked up any sports; Jared was too young and Maddy preferred to stick to drawing and comic books, so no one would notice them missing. Comic books could be delivered as well, right? Yes, it was possible, Beca could so easily flee like a penguin with its bum on fire and no one would-

"I'd love to."

Wait, what? Don't react like an idiot, she said yes it's quite clear what she meant-

"Wait, what?"

Nice one, Beca, really nailed it.

Chloe giggles, softer than a forest stream, "I'd love to go out with you."

"Like, on a date…?" Beca's free hand stretches out in front of her, frozen in shock, "Like a date date."

"I knew what you meant, and I'd love to."

The hand clenches then flails.

"A date date." Chloe giggles again, "'Cause I may have been in like like with you in high school, too."

Beca rolls her eyes at Chloe's antics, but the nervous boulders in her stomach calm to butterflies.

"Um, ok yeah, so coffee…?" Her voice rises on the vowels and she instantly cringes, that is literally the least attractive thing when your date says 'I dunno, what d'you wanna do?'

"Coffee sounds nice," she can hear the brighter-than-sunshine smile as it curves around Chloe's words, and it relaxes her instantly.

"Awes…ome. Awesome, I don't say awes…" Beca mouths 'what the fuck' and smacks herself in the head, "Bonwick's at 3, this Saturday?"

Better, being assertive is better.

"Bonwick's at 3, can't wait."

"Yeah, same, can't wait," stop talking Beca, "see you then."

Hang up before your mouth really throws you under the bus.

"Bye, Beca," Chloe sounds slightly breathless, and a girl can only dream she was as nervous as Beca was.

"Bye, Chloe."

There's a beep and the line goes dead. It takes perhaps 4 seconds for Beca's brain to start firing again, and when it does, it explodes with staggering amounts of anxiety.

She drops the receiver as she tries to hang it up and it's a scramble but somehow it ends up back on the hook.

Holy shit that just happened.

"Holy shit."

She lets her hand drop from where it had remained frozen since the call.

"Holy fuck."

That's probably the only thing her brain can handle right now. Mindless cursing.

Also a date. First of all she got a date, second of all a date with Chloe Beale.

20 years later than planned, with a few minor pit-stops on the road but Beca wouldn't change a thing.


What did you think? I'd love to hear your reviews and feedback :)

- MK