He considers them to be an efficient couple.
In multiple departments of their lives, really.
But shopping trips, they were especially good at - always splitting up and sending each other off to get things to make sure their shopping time was at the lowest it could possibly be. It always works, but today, he's honestly wondering why he ever considered trusting Beca Mitchell to be in charge of picking out their wrapping paper for the holiday season. He only can stare at her in silence when she tosses her selection into their shopping cart.
"What?"
"What exactly was going through your head when you decided that," he picks the roll out of the cart. "An assortment of stripping Santa's was an appropriate selection for wrapping presents?"
"I don't know. I thought it was funny."
He points to one particular version of Santa. "Santa's dancing on a stripper's pole!"
"Yeah, that's what's funny."
"There are young children we will be using this wrapping paper for."
"They gotta learn eventually," she says, shrugging her shoulders up and down. "Sooner is better than later. That's what I always say." She pauses, a sudden realization showing in her eyes. "Except during sex, of course."
He pushes the roll of thin paper into her hands. "Go pick out something else. Please."
"What? Why?"
"Something that doesn't include Santa on a stripper's pole this time, please?"
She turns on her heel without saying anything, back in the direction she came from, only to return with another inappropriate choice of wrapping paper. He considers it his own fault for trusting her to go back and pick out a more appropriate selection, because, well, it's Beca, and she only comes back with the choice of Santa bending over and showing his ass off to the entire world.
"Is this better?"
