Author's Note: I know you're still waiting for the next chapter of Six Inches to the Left, and it will come I promise, but I realized what today was and I couldn't resist throwing a little something together for it. It's unbetaed right now as it was kind of last minute it, but I doubt much would change. I do have a couple other ideas I'm working on adding to the queue, but who knows what will come of them. One of them is a Mitchsen, I don't know if there's any interest in me trying that but I want to explore it. I'm also toying with maybe doing a brief Girl Meets World story as I see definite potential there. This actually nearly was Maya coming to terms and coming out, but figured I'd stick to more familiar territory for now. Anyway, as usual I'm yammering, I've got other stuff I need to do so I'm going to wander and wish everyone a great whatever it is whenever you read this.
Disclaimer: I don't own Pitch Perfect or any characters originating from said movie
"So how are your classes going?" Beca's father asked as they walked to the diner they agreed to have lunch at. He had been a bit surprised when Beca walked into his office with the suggestion, but he readily welcomed it, looking forward to working on his relationship with his daughter.
"They're going. They're first year classes, it's not like they're all that hard. Uncle Zack's history class was tougher than the one I'm taking" Beca shrugged. She was thankful the distraction of the small talk, it helped ease her mind for what was to come. Part of her was beginning to wish she took Chloe up on her offer to come along for support, but she felt it better if this were a one on one thing.
"Well he really knows his stuff. I remember being quite impressed with him when your aunt first brought him around. Never have I seen two people more suited for each other." Dr. Mitchell offered as they entered the diner and were lead to an empty booth by one of the waitresses. Once they were situated and their drink orders placed as they began their perusal of the menus he added. "I hope you find that some day."
"It's funny you should mention that." Beca said, nervousness washing over her. She'd already gone through this with her mom and her side of the family. Thankfully it had went over well. It's not like she was ashamed, far from it. Still, she had no clue how her father would react, having not been around him much since he left six years ago. The conversation was interrupted briefly by their waitress bringing their drinks and taking their food orders. After she left, she let out sigh, figuring it was best to get on with it. "Before we get to that, I need to tell you something, and I really hope it doesn't change things."
"You're a lesbian." Her dad cut her off, sensing how nervous she was. Beca sat there in silence, unable to meet his eyes, simply nodding in confirmation. She was a bit surprised when her dad reached out and squeezed her hand. "I'm a professor at a fairly liberal college, I know today is Coming Out Day, and that this diner is a favorite of the campus lesbian community. I don't care what gender you date, so long as they treat you well. That's what's important to me, your happiness. I'm guessing you're seeing someone?"
"I am, Chloe, the co-captain of the Bellas." Beca nodded again, a wide smile spread across her face. "I know we've only known each other for a few weeks, but there was an immediate connection. It's got nothing to do with the fact that she's easily the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. That's inconsequential. She's smart, she's kind, she's funny, and she knows music. I was absently singing Sunny Afternoon by The Kinks the other week, and she joined right in with me. Granted it's not the most obscure song, but it's not something I'd expect your average college senior to know."
"She sounds really special Beca, I'd like to meet her." Dr. Mitchell said, smiling at how animated his daughter had become. "Aren't you glad I told you to join in?"
"Yes dad, I am." Beca said, rolling her eyes but maintaining the smile she'd had since started talking about Chloe.