She sips her vodka with Diet Coke carefully, trying to pace herself. It's still early in the night and there are many more people for her to greet and meet. Adjusting the single strap of her dress, Chloe signals the bartender for another.
"Ms. Beale," a voice comes from behind her, drawing her attention to the speaker.
"Ah, Dr. Mitchell," she shakes his hand firmly, his greying hair and friendly smile both familiar to her. "A pleasant surprise."
"I would imagine it's a surprise to see me here at all," he jokes, referring to his typically anti-social behavior.
"But as I said, a pleasant one," Chloe replies, her small polite smile never leaving her face. "Have you had something to drink yet?"
"Oh, no thank you," he declines. "My wife wouldn't be happy about that."
"How are you, then?" It's common courtesy to ask your father's doctor how he is, isn't it?
"Good, good, you have any summer plans, Ms. Beale?"
Chloe shifts her weight from one foot to the other as inconspicuously as she can manage. "Actually, I'm leaving for a one week trip to London tomorrow."
"Oh, for business or pleasure?"
"To visit family, so I suppose a bit of both," Chloe jokes, laughing as appropriately as she can (a proper lady's laugh, not a guffaw or a roar).
"That's fantastic," Dr. Mitchell nods, sensing that the conversation will quickly run dry.
"Actually, I need someone to water my plants and take out the trash," she mentions. "Do you know anyone who might be able to help me out?"
His eyes light up, "Ah! My daughter would be perfect for that. Unfortunately, she takes after me in regards to her social life, so it'd be good for her to get out once in awhile."
"Really? I wouldn't want to impose on her summer vacation," Chloe simpers, smoothing the back of her dress.
"No trouble at all," Dr. Mitchell insists. "I'll send her over tonight after the event and you can give her instructions and whatnot."
"That sounds great." She then excuses herself to the bathroom quickly.
Sighing heavily, Chloe removes her heels and tosses them towards the corner of her kitchen (she'll deal with that tomorrow), gently rubbing her sore feet. She feels her public-friendly persona slipping away, and she lets it. What's left is simply her tired and empty feeling shell. Suddenly, the doorbell rings, and with a groan, Chloe rises once more to answer it.
The door creaks open to reveal a relatively short woman (girl, really) with straight brown locks and light grey eyes. She's cute looking for sure, especially standing there, biting her lip, looking unsure of herself.
"Ms. Beale?"
"Yes?"
"I'm Dr. Mitchell's daughter," the girl says, her eyes darting from side to side nervously. Oh, Chloe sees the resemblance now. Her high-society woman façade falls into place once more.
"Oh, of course," she exclaims, "Please, come in, come in."
"I can come back tomorrow, you look kind of exhausted," the girl wrings her hands anxiously, Chloe notes. Is she really that intimidating?
"Are you frightened of me?" Chloe tries to look at her kindly, tries to soften her features.
"No," the girl replies automatically, crossing her arms in a defensive posture. "I just don't want to bother you."
"It's no bother," the redhead insists. "Come in, do you want anything to drink?"
"I'm fine."
"Do you have a name?" Chloe smiles coyly, trying to coax the girl out behind her walls. Dr. Mitchell's daughter mumbles in response and Chloe doesn't quite catch it. She finds the girl's shyness endearing, perhaps because she's used to overeager gentlemen spouting nonstop in her face. Setting down her wine glass, Chloe reaches out and pulls on the girl's arms, "I didn't quite catch that."
Letting her arms fall to the side, the girl repeats herself. "Beca. Rebecca Mitchell."
"That's a lovely name," Chloe tells her, fingers lingering on her elbow. "It means captivating in Hebrew, did you know?"
Beca shakes her head, her lips twisting into something of a smile.
"You sure you wouldn't like some wine? I have plenty."
"Ah," Beca stammers. "I'm actually not old enough."
"Oh, my apologies," Chloe says, leaving Beca's side and pouring herself a glass. "I assumed you were older."
"That's fine," Beca twists her foot to the side. "Most people do."
A quick circle around the island of her kitchen and Chloe ends up behind Beca. She reaches out and rests a hand on Beca's shoulder, attempting to put her more at ease, but it only causes the girl to jump. "No need to be so tense," Chloe laughs, soft and sweet (a flirtatious laugh, she knows). "I won't bite."
Too young, she reminds herself. She's probably being predatory and freaking the girl out, Chloe realizes belatedly.
Stuttering madly, Beca manages, "I-I'm not tense."
Chloe looks at her in disappointment (at herself mostly). "Here, I'll write up a list of things that need to be done while I'm away. You don't mind, do you? I know I hated it when my summer vacation was interrupted."
"That's okay," Beca says. "I mostly read at home anyway."
"You can read here all you like," Chloe offers, knowing the girl is being very generous, even if her father has most likely made her. "Feel free to use this house, read a book, throw a party!"
That causes a small smile to adorn Beca's face. She looks down towards her feet, "I'm not really the partying type."
"No, I didn't peg you as the sort," Chloe teases. "But who knows what is hiding under that shy, serious exterior of yours?" Too young, she reminds herself once more. So she stops and scribbles a quick list on a notepad. "I'll be leaving tomorrow morning at 9 and I'll be back in exactly a week, the 27th, at 5 in the evening. Any questions?"
Beca takes the list from her and reads the items quickly, her eyes scanning. She nods, "Looks good. Have a good trip, Ms. Beale."
"I'm not nearly old enough to be called Ms. Beale," Chloe jokes (though a part of her wonders how old the girl thinks she is). "Please, call me Chloe."
"Sounds good," Beca nods. "I'll get out of the way now."
After she's left, Chloe lets herself relax, leaning against the counter heavily. What was she thinking, being overly friendly with the girl? She can't afford to make a mistake like that, especially not now. Her head thuds against the kitchen cabinets lightly.
London is more or less the same as she remembers; bustling with activity and a reminder of a painful childhood. She visits her mother and only surviving grandfather at their mansion in Essex. Chloe's mother is as indifferent as ever, uncaring of her husband's dwindling health and barely noticing Chloe's presence.
The days are rainy and miserable, reflecting Chloe's mood, which is strangely the only thing she enjoys about the trip. As expected, she attends several more charity events and balls with her mother, wearing increasingly extravagant gowns. Chloe loses count of the amount of bad jokes she forces herself to laugh at and the number of men who grope a bit too low for her liking as they dance. It's mostly a haze of expensive perfumes, cologne, and alcohol.
On the flight back to the United States, Chloe lays a damp towel over her eyes, stressed from her supposed vacation. Goodness, she'll be so glad to sleep in her bed again, away from her family's craziness.
Heaving her suitcase from the taxi, Chloe drags it to her front door step and sets it down. She tips the taxi driver handsomely (it's not like she can't afford it) and thanks him for his services. Walking back to her front door, she's placing her key in the keyhole when the door suddenly opens.
She's a little startled to see Beca answering the door, but recovers quickly with a forced smile. "Good evening."
"Let me help you," Beca says, her voice more steady than Chloe remembers. Even with her toothpick arms, Beca manages to lug the suitcase into the house and down the hallway, resting it near the staircase.
As Chloe enters the house, she notes, "You weeded the garden."
"Is that okay?" Beca bites her lip and Chloe has to force herself to look away casually.
"That's more than okay, that was very kind of you," Chloe praises, dropping her keys into the basket in her kitchen.
"I like gardening," the brunette admits.
"Well if you want, you can do some gardening for me, and I'll pay you for your trouble."
Shaking her head, Beca responds, "My dad would never let me."
"You don't have to tell him," Chloe smiles indulgingly. "I would like the company as well." Unconsciously, she's moved forward into Beca's personal space. Playing with the hem of Beca's shirt, Chloe bends her head so she's looking up through her eyelashes at the girl. Beca's eyes look blue today, a greyish blue that smears along the edges. Her breath hitches and Chloe knows she's on the border of something dangerous. "London was so boring," she urges herself away and towards the refrigerator.
"You didn't enjoy your trip?"
"I much prefer the States," Chloe informs her, pulling out some sparkling apple juice she keeps for special (non-alcoholic) circumstances. She pours Beca a glass without asking as she has a feeling the girl will politely refuse if it's offered. "It's not wine," she promises.
Beca finally accepts the drink and takes a cautious sip. "I'm not that young, you know."
Perhaps regretting her word choice already, Beca's ears glow red with embarrassment. Chloe lets a genuinely amused smile show, and she feels her fake and cheery mask cracking. Maybe it isn't too bad to let her guard down in front of this harmless girl.
"I didn't say you were young."
Cocking an eyebrow, Beca gestures at her drink, "Sparkling apple juice. If that doesn't say kid, I don't know what does."
Unprepared for Beca's sudden honesty, Chloe lets loose a quiet snort (her mother would be frowning if she was here). "Would your father kill me if I supplied his daughter with real alcohol then?"
"Like you said," Beca says, suddenly bold, "He doesn't have to know."
"Thank God," Chloe bursts out. "I need alcohol after that trip."
Beca quickly drains her glass and holds it out for Chloe to fill with a white wine.
"Pinot grigio," the redhead tells her.
"I know nothing about wine," Beca admits with a reluctant grin. She looks at Chloe bashfully, biting her lower lip again.
Too young. Too young. Too young.
She repeats it like a mantra in her head, but Chloe ends up stepping forward anyway, leaning closer to the girl. Curling her fingers around the nearby counter top, Chloe whispers, "It's also called Pinot gris sometimes. Pinot means pinecone in French, and the grapes grow in pinecone shaped clusters." Her fingers reach out and brush by Beca's temple as Chloe pushes tucks Beca's hair behind her ear. "And gris is grey, because the fruit is a greyish blue, a bit like your eyes."
Beca's eyes are focused intently on hers, and her attention makes something burn inside Chloe.
"It was apparently the favorite of Emperor Charles IV. It's also meant to be drank early on, but you can let it age as well," Chloe continues lazily.
The brunette's eyes flicker down Chloe's lips, but quickly snap back up. That small motion has Chloe clenching her fingers tightly into a fist, nails digging into her palm, in an effort to control her feelings. Detracting herself from that line of thought, Chloe takes a large gulp of the wine, the taste searing down her throat. Beca follows suit with a small sip.
Vaguely, Chloe realizes the phone is ringing.
"I should get that."
Beca nods, drawing away quickly.
Chloe walks into the hallway and checks the caller ID. Her mother. She ignores it and walks back to the kitchen. She turns the corner to find that Beca's gone. A part of her is relieved.
Run home.
The next morning, just as Chloe's having her first cup of coffee, the doorbell rings. She opens the door to reveal a slouching Beca in black jeans and a sleeveless white t-shirt.
"Morning," she smiles, slipping back into her default mode, while the sane part of her knows she should get Beca to leave as soon as possible. Beca looks too good to be a mere mortal, and Chloe's never been great about controlling her impulses.
"I'm just going to plant some perennials in the back if you don't mind," Beca jabs her thumb in the general direction.
"Of course not," Chloe shields her eyes from the sunlight. "If you get thirsty, help yourself to some refreshments in the kitchen. I'll be upstairs if you need me."
"Yeah," Beca nods. "Yeah I'll keep that in mind."
Thankfully, Beca doesn't come in. Some part of Chloe knows she would've handled it badly had Beca decided to come up and talk.
Unfortunately, she returns the next day, and the day after, and the day after that. She continues planting flowers all around her backyard, pinks, whites, and purples dotting the landscape. Chloe watches her work from her upstairs studio window. It's a distraction from planning her cousin's wedding, but a welcome one. A few times, Beca catches her staring and simply looks back, challenging, until Chloe looks away or waves.
A week or two passes like that, very easily, with Beca adding in new vines, new chips, and new flowers, and minimal interaction (sometimes she offers Beca lemonade). But Chloe never forgets that her hands itch to smooth back Beca's hair, and she never forgets that she mustn't.
Halfway through the design of her cousin's wedding dress, Chloe hears the clunking of Beca's boots as she enters the house.
"Chloe?"
She reminds herself not to be too eager and descends the staircase slowly, her feet hitting each stair solidly. "Yes?"
"I, uh, I finished," she says.
"Why don't you sit in the living room with me for a moment?" Too young.
"Sure."
They settle down in the large sofa chairs, sitting directly across from one another, the fireplace in between. "Tell me what you've planted."
"Uhm," Beca tears her gaze away from the grand piano. "I planted azaleas and daisies by the back door and jasmine along the fence."
"Ah, what do they represent?"
"I just chose them because they look nice," the brunette shrugs. "I think azaleas mean abundance and daisies represent innocence."
"And what about the jasmines?"
Beca whispers her answer, and Chloe nearly misses it. "They reminded me of you."
"That's sweet," Chloe says, standing suddenly, because she needs control of her body, and sitting down isn't helping.
Reflexively, Beca stands as well, one hand shoved in her back pocket.
"You're very thoughtful," Chloe continues, noting her line of sight as well. "You play piano?"
Snapping her gaze back to Chloe, Beca mumbles, "Yeah, I guess."
"Why don't you play something for me?"
Beca hesitates.
"Only if you want," Chloe clarifies. "I would love to hear you play."
She nods and navigates her way to the piano, sliding her fingers over the keys as she scoots onto the bench comfortably. Chloe sits down once more, waiting for her to begin. Beca's eyes close momentarily as she runs the pads of her fingers over the black keys and she presses down after a sharp inhale. It's a piece Chloe's never heard before, but Beca plays it confidently and exquisitely.
Watching Beca play is a transformation from the quiet, withdrawn girl to a composed performer. Chloe can feel her heartbeat speeding up in the most cliché way ever, but she understands now, the anticipation, the fear that comes with talking to Beca makes her feel unstable like that. She's thirty-four and Beca is not yet twenty-one, there should be no discussion here.
Beca's hand stretches one last time and she ends with a low C. It would be polite to clap, but Chloe's sitting on her hands to keep them from trembling.
"That was lovely. You were lovely," Chloe's voice is low and sincere, probably the first time she's really let herself be completely honest.
Something changes in Beca at that moment, like she'd been slowly revealing herself in degrees previously, but now it all falls away, the cloak of defense sinking to the ground. Her eyes are clear, instead of stormy, and she walks over to Chloe with deliberate steps. The redhead lets out a ragged exhale as her stomach flips.
"Thank you," Beca whispers, standing in front of Chloe at close proximity, looking down at her. Slowly (painfully), she lowers herself onto Chloe's lap and leans forward to ghost her lips over Chloe's. Chloe swears she's never been as scared as she is in that moment. A pause ensues and then Beca closes the distance, crushing her mouth against Chloe's lips.
The moment Beca's fingers close around Chloe's jaw, the redhead is spurred into action, curling her arm around Beca's back desperately. Her chest constricts and it feels like her breath is being stolen away, like she can't breathe. Beca breaks away momentarily, causing a whine to escape Chloe's mouth, and pulls her shirt off over her head.
Too young, Chloe reminds herself and steadies Beca on top of her lap.
"Beca-"
But she's cut off with another bruising kiss, one that leaves her lips feeling swollen and tender.
"I'm an adult, Chloe," Beca states through heaving gasps. "I can make decisions for myself."
"But are you sure…?"
"I thought about this since the moment I first saw you," Beca whispers, trailing open mouthed kisses up Chloe's neck and along her jaw.
Somehow that statement is so powerfully honest that it makes Chloe forget everything else but Beca's hot breath and the comfortable weight on top of her.
"It was wrong of me to take advantage of you," Chloe buries her face in her hands, redressed in a simple night gown.
"Stop treating me like I'm a kid," Beca says, pulling the offered sweater on. "I'm twenty, not a teenager."
"I'm thirty-four, Beca! You're my dad's doctor's daughter, and this just isn't right."
"Why does it matter how old we are?" The brunette circles around the bed and cups Chloe's face in her hands. "I wanted to do this, and you did too. That's all that matters."
"What will they think? What will they say?"
"Who?"
Chloe gestures vaguely, "People. My parents. Your parents. I don't know. People."
"Why does it matter what they think?" Beca takes a seat next to Chloe, resting her head on the older woman's shoulder.
"Because they'll talk and they'll judge, Beca," Chloe sighs. "They'll look, they'll laugh, they'll say spiteful things behind our backs. They'll say I manipulated you.
Placing a gentle kiss on Chloe's shoulder, Beca whispers, "They aren't important."
"Then who is important, Beca?"
"You."
Chloe sighs.
Beca looks at her, stormy eyes once again, "Do I frighten you?"
"Yes," Chloe answers. "Yes, I am frightened of how powerless you make me feel, how little control I have around you."
"Do you know what jasmine flowers symbolize?" Beca changes the subject suddenly.
"No."
"Grace and elegance," Beca tells her.
"And that reminds you of me?" Chloe can't help but to chuckle at how wrong her assessment must be.
"Yes," Beca says, kissing Chloe's cheek softly.
And for a moment, Chloe really does feel graceful and elegant.
And so it continues, quietly and secretly, in the safety of Chloe's home, away from prying eyes. Although Beca is so much younger (so much), Chloe nearly forgets her age when they converse. They share more than a few interests: music, philosophy, politics, art. Chloe even wakes one morning to Beca finger painting on her stomach, much to her initial surprise and later amusement (the paint doesn't come out of the sheets). And Chloe thinks she might love her (might).
The longer it goes on, the more convinced she is that age shouldn't matter, that what she's doing is simply natural. And she's content with the way things are.
But Beca isn't.
"You're going with him, tonight?"
"I have to, Beca!"
The brunette's voice wavers in anger, "No, you don't. That's the thing, you don't, Chloe, you don't."
"It's just for appearance's sake," Chloe explains patiently. "It's a charity auction, and he's the son of the main benefactor."
"I'm tired of pretending that we aren't a thing," Beca's throat tightens. "I want everyone to know how much I like you, how you make me feel."
"I can't, Beca," Chloe repeats herself for what feels like the millionth time. "I'm the daughter of John Beale, I can't be anything less than perfect, especially not now that his health is failing! He climbed up from nothing, you know? He built every bit of his empire with his own hands, and I can't destroy his connections now. It's a small price to pay to spend the evening in the company of a man who is doing charity work."
"You have me, Chloe," Beca says, her tone desperate. "You have me. Don't go with him."
"Outside, I will be accompanying him, nothing more," Chloe's thumb brushes Beca's cheek familiarly. "And when I come back, in here, I am all yours."
"If you go with him," the tears in her eyes are spilling over, "If you go with him, Chloe, when you get back, I won't be here, and you'll be no one's."
"Are you making an ultimatum?"
"Yes," Beca sniffs, wiping her tears away hurriedly. "Because it kills me to think that you're ashamed."
Chloe looks at her stonily, "Don't be a child, Beca."
"That's exactly it," Beca chokes. "You think I'm a kid, but you're the one being immature here, hiding and sneaking around." She takes a large gulp of air. "Yeah, your parents might not be ecstatic about it at first, but they'll come around."
"You don't know them-"
"Do I make you happy, Chloe?"
Her heart jolts, the question so simple that Chloe knows she has no choice but to respond, "Constantly."
Beca kisses her gently, their mouths lightly pressed together, and Chloe feels like crying too. "Don't be scared."
"It's not that easy," Chloe protests.
"Don't be scared," Beca repeats. "You have me."
And with Beca's arms around her, Chloe wants to believe her words.
"Daddy?" Chloe knocks on the hospital room door cautiously.
Her father, hair completely white, is lying peacefully alone in the room, tubes going in his nose and other parts of his body. His eyes flutter open at the sound of her voice. "Chloe?"
"Hi," she whispers, afraid of disturbing him more than she already is.
"Come by my bedside," he beckons her towards him frailly. She kneels, clasping his hand tightly. "Are you crying, my child?"
"I want you to meet someone," she turns towards the entrance, as Beca walks in hesitantly, waving awkwardly. "Daddy, that's my girlfriend."
He squints his eyes, straining to make out Beca's face and form. "She looks young."
Chloe laughs, tears still streaming down her face. "She is."
Beca shoots her an indignant look.
"Are you mad at me, Daddy?"
"I am too old and tired to be anything, Chloe."
"I'm tired too," Chloe says, kissing her father's hand. "Tired of pretending to be someone I'm not."
"Then be young, Chloe, while you still are," he croaks, his eyes shutting. "But I am not. I am tired."
There's a gentle snoring from him and Chloe wipes the last remnants of tears away.
For the first time ever, Beca and Chloe grab lunch in public, ignoring the gaping people when they kiss or hold hands. Throughout the meal, Beca looks intently at Chloe.
Noticing her girlfriend's stare, Chloe asks, "What?"
"I can't believe we're working this out."
"Yeah?" Chloe's amused.
"Are you still scared?"
"Of what?"
Beca gestures around her, "Of this. Of us. Of me."
"Always." Chloe pats her hand. "And what about you? Do I still frighten you?"
"You never frightened me," Beca denies with a snort.
"You were shaking like a leaf when I opened the door that first time."
"I was cold," she continues denying.
"It was seventy degrees."
"I was cold," Beca maintains.
"It's okay to be scared, isn't it?"
More seriously, Beca looks at her simply. "It's a lifelong burden."
Epilogue
"Happy Birthday," Chloe whispers roughly into Beca's ear, wrapping her from behind in a tight embrace, their legs entangled on the bed.
"Mmm, thanks," Beca responds, curling into her front. "Where's my present?"
"We can go out drinking later," Chloe offers. "Since you're finally old enough to legally do it."
"Excuse me for not being a fossil," Beca laughs, kissing Chloe's chin affectionately.
"You're an infant, really."
"Go back to the museum."
Chloe smirks, "I thought age didn't matter to you."
"Only when it suits me," Beca responds.
A/N: Thank you for reading, I appreciate all the people who have followed this story for so long, we're 1/5th of the way there :) An extra special thank you to the people who reviewed, your comments motivate me as always. Leave a review for this chapter as well if it so suits you. See you next time. Spoiler: Fairytale.
Quick notes:
1. The move has been a bit stressful, but we're all moved in now! Just have to unpack :( So the people who wished me an unstressful move, thank you, and you're all wonderful.
2. I know a lot of people have mentioned that any of these one-shots could be fleshed out into a multi-chapter story (and some of you have requested it as well). I've started a new project; a multichapter Detective AU, so look out for that in a few days if it interests you.
Cheers.