A/N: I know this varies a little bit from the usual plot for these, but I had this little plot bunny stuck in my head.
Guest- I feel like I have written so much jealous Chloe here lately in my other stories that I just can't write anymore at the moment. But if you're up for M rated stuff, 'Stay, stay, stay' and 'Honey I'm good for you' both have jealous Chloe! and of course my 'Tell the World' fic has plenty of jealous Chloe if you're up for a long read!
"Hey babe." Beca answered her phone on the first ring, and Chloe winced. She was really hoping to catch her in the studio so she could just leave a voicemail.
"What are you doing?"
"Just going through some contracts."
"Oh, that sounds important, I'll call you back later." her finger was about to hit the 'end call' button when Beca's voice screeched through the speakers.
"Wait, wait, wait! Don't hang up! The papers aren't that important! Besides, even if they were, I always make time for my favorite redhead."
The only sound was soft breathing.
"Chlo?" The DJ's voice lilted up into a question.
"Don't freak out."
There was a long pause and she could hear the younger girl shuffling papers around.
"Ohhkaay, well that's not what you want to hear your wife say when she randomly call you in the middle of a workday."
She worried her lip between her teeth.
"Just promise you won't freak out."
"I can't promise that, Chlo. And the more you wait to tell me, the more freaked out I get. Just tell me what's wrong." She could hear Beca's vocal chords squeezing around the words, forcing them to stay in a lower octave instead of the squeak that they usual had when the DJ was freaking out.
Chloe paused, dreading breaking the news; and Beca's next sentence came in a rush.
"Are you hurt? Can you at least tell me that?"
"No, no, I'm not hurt."
She could hear Beca's breath blow out between pursed lips the relief was evident in her voice when she spoke again.
"Alright, well, there's that at least. Did somebody die?"
"No."
"Is somebody in the hospital?"
"No."
"Did you finally get fired for being too sexy to be a second grade teacher?"
She couldn't help the tiny giggle that escaped.
"No, and stop trying to make me laugh, I feel horrible."
"So it's something you did?"
She groaned in response.
"Alright, what could you have possibly done that warrants this much anxiety over telling me?"
She groaned again, burying her face in the couch cushions, even though she knew Beca couldn't see her.
"Is it something to do with the house - oh my god, you blew the house up with one of your crazy Pinterest projects!"
"Noooo, although that would almost be better."
"Worse than blowing the house up?"
"I mean . . ."
She could almost hear the wheels turning in her wife's head.
"The car?"
She groaned but it came out more like a whimper.
"You wrecked your car?"
"Nooooo."
There was another long pause.
"The Ferrari?"
"Maybe?" She winced, anticipating Beca's reaction.
"You're sure you're ok?"
"Yes, I promise, I'm fine. I wouldn't even really call it a wreck. . . "
"What would you call it then?"
"Ummm a fender bender?"
"What happened exactly?"
"Well I wanted to sweep out the garage, and I backed it out so that I would have room but then when I was pulling it back in I may have mis-judged the distance between it and the washing machine."
The words tumbled over themselves in their hurry to get out and as soon as they were free of her lips she felt the weight of the secret lift.
"So, let me ge this straight. You hit the washing machine with the Ferrari." Even though Beca was across town, she could practically see the DJ's hands moving as she spoke.
"Yes?"
"And you couldn't just tell me this? Instead of making me think through every horrible thing that could have possibly happened?"
"Sorry."
"Chlo, it's fine, just geez! Don't freak me out like that! I was terrified!"
"I was afraid you would be mad! Aren't you mad?!"
"It's just a car!"
"Yeah, a really shiny, really expensive car that you've wanted to buy since high school."
"Seriously, it's no big deal. I'm sure it's not as bad as you think it is anyway."
"It's a pretty big dent, Becs."
"Babe, please stop beating yourself up, it's fine! We can take it to the dealer tomorrow and I'm sure they can fix it. Just promise you won't think about it the rest of the day."
"I'm not making any promises."
"Please try."
"I'll try."
"Okay, I love you. I've gotta slip in the studio later so I'll probably be home around 7."
"Alright, I love you."
The call ended and Chloe headed to the kitchen, a plan already hatching in her mind.
Most people assumed from their personalities that of the two, Chloe was the domestic one. And it was true, to a point.
Beca didn't give two shits about what the wall color in hall bathroom was, whereas Chloe had spent two weeks pouring over paint catalogs until she found the perfect shade of cream. And when it came to painting said bathroom, Chloe gave Beca the roller brush and she took the trim because a steady hand on the mixing board did not equate a steady hand with a paint brush.
Cleaning was a chore that they both split equally, because really, who likes to clean except for Danny Tanner psychos?
Gardening? That had Chloe Mitchell-Beale written all over it. Her thumb was greener than a twenty dollar bill, and there was nothing she enjoyed more than spending a day out in the sunshine taking care of flowers.
Cooking was where Chloe's domesticity ended.
Sure she could run a blender or a juicer like nobody's business, but stick her in front of a stove and she was in danger of burning down the whole block- a fact that they quickly found out when she almost caught their dorm room on fire trying to making ramen noodles on a contraband hot plate. After that, Beca assumed responsibility for all cooking duties. Surprisingly, the DJ was a whiz in the kitchen, between Chloe's constant badgering to eat healthy and her mother's late nights at work, she had become quite the connoisseur. Chloe liked to dabble occasionally, but always under her wife's watchful eye.
Despite her previous misshaps, she was sure that she could manage to cook a nice dinner to make up for wrecking her wife's expensive toy, right?
Wrong.
She didn't know pork chops could get that tough or that asparagus could get so . . . crisp, but it was. Don't even get her started on the clumpy Bernaise sauce, how does that even happen?
So instead of being posed in a too short dress next to a romantic dinner when Beca got home, she was burrowed into the couch cushions, blankets pulled over her head; wallowing in shame.
"Honey, I'm home!" Beca's declaration was followed by a loud chuckle, the brunette still found her little joke amusing, even after saying it almost every day for three years.
Usually, Chloe would laugh along, greeting her wife with a kiss and "How was your day?"
Today was not one of those days.
Beca rounded the corner to the living room, freezing like a deer in the headlights when she saw Chloe bundled up on the couch.
"Uh-oh." She felt Beca sit at her feet. "Are you still upset about the car? I'm sure it's not that bad, and I told you to stop worrying about it."
She merely groaned.
"Why does it smell like burned popcorn in here?"
She groaned again and Beca got up, the sound of her footsteps wandering into the kitchen.
"Oh, wow. That is . . . a valiant effort at popcorn breaded pork chops. . . . and uhh whatever that yellow stuff is."
"Don't mock me." She mumbled into the pillow, unsure if the DJ would even be able to hear her.
"I'm not mocking it's the thought that counts! And you obviously put a lot of thought into that."
Another groan.
"Come on, let's go out to the car and you can show me where this 'huge dent' is."
Chloe groaned again but tossed back the blankets and got up, leading the way to the garage. Peering out from between her fingers, she pointed to the scratch adorning the bottom of the front bumper on the driver's side.
She wasn't exactly sure what she was expecting Beca's reaction to be, but it certainly wasn't this, doubled over guffawing in the middle of garage. She tapped her foot impatiently, glaring at her wife until the younger woman sobered up.
"That's what you were so worried about? It's tiny!"
Chloe huffed.
"C'mere, let me show you something."
They walked around to the back of the car, where the DJ pointed out a similar scratch on the back bumper of the passenger side.
"That's why I quit backing into the garage."
"Seriously?! It already had a scratch and you didn't tell me?! I was freaking out!"
"Well from the way you talked, I thought that you had like taken the whole bumper off or something!"
"No, and then I tried to make you dinner, which that obviously turned out to be a bust."
"It was a very sweet effort! Which I appreciate!"
"You're just saying that."
"No, I do appreciate it!" Chloe finally broke a smile under her wife's loving gaze and the DJ continued. "I'm not going to eat it, but I appreciate it."
That earned her a smack on the arm and a glare from the redhead.
"Look, how about we order some Chinese food and you can repay me for dinging up my car in other ways."
Chloe's eyes narrowed.
"What 'other ways'?"
"Remember that stint in college when you wanted to be an exotic dancer?"
And I'm always
gonna be
Your safe place to land
safe place to land
The ground beneath your feet
Like you never had
Like you never had
When you're at 10, 000 feet
No parachute
You got my hand
