"Hands behind your backs, bubbles in your mouths!"
Chloe watched her twenty-one students lock their hands behind their backs and puff out their cheeks - some more successfully than others - in line in the hallway, awaiting their turn to join the lunch line.
"Remember, quiet as mice as we go!" She led them down the hallway and into the boisterous cafeteria where the mouth bubbles were forgotten and chatter erupted. Once she made sure her students were in the proper line to pick up their lunches, she stepped past them and swiped her ID, greeting the perpetually grumpy cafeteria worker with a bright smile that went ignored.
"Tacos?" she questioned rhetorically, unsure if what was on her tray qualified as tacos.
She had writing assignments to grade and intended to eat in her classroom, and she stopped by the front office check her mailbox. She noticed most everyone's box contained a bright yellow flyer, but not hers. With a shrug of dismissal, assuming whatever it was was wasn't for everyone, she collected her other communications and returned to her classroom.
The tacos weren't all bad, if she thought of them more like movie theater nachos.
"Hey, you!"
Chloe looked up, unsurprised to see Suzanne Washington hovering in her doorway. Mrs. Washington taught fifth grade, so she was rarely in Chloe's building, except during lunch and meetings and such. Mrs. Washington was also her personal fangirl, the woman who had taken notice during orientation, knowing who the Bellas were. She had become somewhat of a shadow to Chloe, which she found equal parts sweet and odd, and maybe sometimes mildly annoying. Suzanne also had at least fifteen years on Chloe, which made the fangirl aspect a little awkward, though it was endearing and she always meant well.
"Hi!" she responded, not quite setting down her pen in case she needed an excuse to ask her to leave. "What's up?"
"Just passing through. Still settling in okay?"
"Yes, thank you."
"Say, when are you bringing your partner by? I'm kind of dying to meet the Beca Mitchell."
"She's pretty busy right now; it's not very easy for her to get away from the studio in the middle of the day."
"The studio! That sounds so Hollywood."
Chloe tilted her head and smiled. "Well, we are in Hollywood."
"We are!"
Chloe wondered if this woman's personality was how she came across to others; if so, she was going to have to majorly consider making some changes.
"I better get back to it," she said, waving her pen.
"Oh, of course!" Mrs. Washington disappeared, and Chloe thought she heard her say something about saving her a seat at the meeting, but she didn't have a meeting on her calendar.
Chloe played with her iPhone as she walked to the bus. Most of the teachers fled campus as soon as possible, but today everyone's cars were still in the parking lot, making her take pause. She checked her calendar again, and double-checked her email, but there was nothing new.
Something gnawed at her, telling her to go back and ask the office of there was indeed a meeting after school, but the bus rolled to a stop in front of her and the desire to get home and relax won.
Her iPhone chimed as she chose a seat.
iMessage from Becaboo: Don't have dinner. Or make it.
Ok. What's happening?
Getting take-out.
What's the occasion?
We need an occasion to get take-out?
No :) gonna take a shower now then so we can chill when you get home.
Xoxo
Excited for a relaxing night at home with Beca, Chloe made her way upstairs and tossed her phone onto the bed to shower.
She was sprawled on the couch snacking on grapes when Beca walked in, hands full with two bags of what looked to be Chinese take-out containers.
"Hi, babe!" Chloe said brightly, tossing one last grape into her mouth.
"Hey," Beca said with a smile. "Guess you didn't get my text. Do you mind running out to the car and grabbing my gear while I get all this set up?"
Chloe hauled herself off the couch and out the door - making a detour to kiss Beca before bounding down the front stairs and scurrying barefoot to the car. She pulled open the passenger side door and scooped Beca's bag off the floor, and then did a double-take.
Sitting on the driver's seat was a bouquet of red roses, wrapped in cellophane and white paper. She smiled and reached back in to pick them up, inhaling their deliciously sweet scent. Beca, the woman who lived to be tough, was a total romantic, and Chloe lived for it.
"Thank you, they're gorgeous."
Beca looked up from organizing the spread of cartons and smiled. "You're welcome."
"Really, what's the occasion?" she asked, padding through the room to pull a vase from a cabinet and fill it with water.
"There's no occasion. I was hungry and wanted to buy you flowers."
Chloe still wasn't completely convinced, but she let it slide at the spread laid out on the kitchen counter: box after box of rice, chow mein, beef and broccoli, sweet and sour chicken, egg drop soup, wontons, and edamame. Her stomach rumbled.
She pulled a pair of plates out and handed one to Beca. "I'm starving, I want to literally eat all of this."
"Hey hey hey," Beca chided, slapping her hand away when she reached for the chicken, "you can eat half of it."
They settled side by side on the sofa, Chloe's feet propped on the coffee table, Beca sitting cross-legged to use her knees and lap as a table. Beca picked up the remote and punched buttons, pulling up their DVR recordings to queue up the night's episode of "The Bachelorette."
"You didn't watch it before I got home, did you?"
"Of course not."
Chloe was in her classroom carefully writing examples of capital and lower case G's on the whiteboard to prepare for the day when the intercom clicked on, paging her to the office.
"Hi," she said, greeting the office manager for the second time that morning. "You rang?"
"Sheridan asked for you."
Chloe gulped. Principal Sheridan had been pleasant enough during her interviews, and she was quite welcoming during orientation, but there was something innately terrifying to be called to the principal's office - something she realized she needed to get over, being a teacher and all.
She knocked on the doorframe of the open office. Tabitha Sheridan was a formidable woman, always in a pantsuit with her blond hair in place perfectly over her shoulders, and impeccable makeup, and carried herself on the razor's edge of potential tyranny and held a Doctorate in Educational Leadership and a Master's Degree in Music Education. She was massively intelligent and an incredible leader for the school.
"Miss Beale, good morning. I'm sorry to pull you out of your prep. Please, have a seat."
She sat in one of the chairs, a massive oak desk separating them, left leg crossed over right, and tried not to let her foot bounce. "How are you today, Dr. Sheridan?"
"I'm well, thank you." Sheridan set aside the files open on her desk and folded her hands, leaning forward in a way that made Chloe sit back in her chair. "How are you doing? Is your mentor providing sufficient guidance?"
"Oh yes, thank you. She's wonderful."
"I'm glad to hear that. Now, on to business. Are you aware there was a mandatory staff meeting after the bell yesterday?"
Chloe felt her stomach fall to her feet. Her intuition had been accurate after all. She had chosen to ignore checking the voicemail that Mrs. Washington had left on her phone after school, and she now regretted that decision; she knew it was a voicemail asking where she was. "N-No. I'm sorry, I was not aware."
"Memos were delivered to all teaching staff prior to yesterday's lunch hour." Sheridan handed Chloe a bright yellow piece of paper full of details of a mandatory meeting regarding required training, the same yellow paper she saw in almost everyone's inbox but her own.
"I'm so sorry, but this was not in my box. I also checked my calendar before I left campus and didn't see anything scheduled. I must have overlooked it."
"Miss Beale, the fact that we are a performing arts school does not mean we lack structure and shuck responsibility."
Chloe felt sucker punched, in trouble for ignorance. She also felt that such a stern reaction was a little excessive for missing a staff meeting. "I understand. My apologies, Doctor Sheridan. It was completely unintentional."
"I recognize that this is your first year in a workplace, but there is precious little room for learning basic professionalism."
Chloe tried her best to shake off the slap in the face; she was the utmost professional, always had been, and a simple mistake - she didn't even know how it had happened - was making her look terrible.
"I can appreciate that, and I assure you that it will not happen again." She glanced at the flyer, re-reading the details. "And I'll be sure to RSVP to a session immediately."
Sheridan nodded. "I like you, Miss Beale. You're one of my most promising new teachers. Please don't make this a habit or you will be written up for insubordination."
"Of course, thank you." Any other moment, the compliment would have made Chloe giddy, but not today. "Is there anything else?"
"No, that will be all. Enjoy your day."
Chloe exited the office defeated; it was her first mess up, and they were only three weeks into the school year - not the best first impression.
Still ruminating over how she didn't know about the meeting when when everyone else did, and getting in trouble for it, she stopped short in front of her classroom. Blocking her path was the second grade teacher who had declared her allegiance to Das Sound Machine during orientation - Anika Schmidt, and in her hand dangled a fluorescent yellow flyer identical to the one she had been sent away with.
"Hello, Bella."
"Good morning, Miss Schmidt." She took a step forward, assuming it would prompt her colleague to move, but she didn't budge.
"I didn't see you at the meeting yesterday."
Suspicion flooded her. "Somehow I missed the memo. Can I help you with something? I do need to get back to my prep."
"I believe this is yours." Schmidt held out the flyer, a villainous smile on her face. "I must have taken it out of your box by mistake."
Chloe smiled tightly and snapped it out of her hand. "I see. Well, I guess I did miss the memo."
"Did I hear you get called to the front office? Nothing serious, I hope."
Rage boiled in Chloe. Anika Schmidt was the smaller, American version of Kommissar, the same evil smile and the same holier-than-thou attitude. Chloe despised her, and it took a lot for her to despise someone; Schmidt had been on her radar since Day One, and frequently she noticed her walking slowly past her classroom when she had no business being in in the area.
"Nope! Just some personnel paperwork to wrap up." She noticed Schmidt's eye twitch, perhaps in frustration that she wasn't cracking.
"I see. I'll be on my way now. Good day to you."
"Bye!" Chloe said, bitingly. Schmidt didn't carry a German accent, but she heard it in her mind, making her all the more irritated.
She swept into her classroom, aggravated and annoyed; she had a bully. Chloe did not have bullies, for she killed them with kindness. But some bullies could not be squashed, as kindness was foreign to them and thus had no effect. She would need a new tactic with Schmidt; perhaps she needed to start fighting fire with fire, out-performing her in the way she and the Bellas took down DSM in competition.
But not yet - it was far too early in the game.
Chloe was in a mood when she got home.
She was still pissed she'd gotten into trouble about missing a meeting, and she was annoying that such a thing warranted a talking-to. She was also determined to find a way to bring Schmidt down - in the most professional way possible, of course.
She ventured upstairs, intent on taking a bubble bath to soak away the stress of the day.
Something glinting in the light caught her eye as she breezed through the bedroom and brought her to a halt, silver and sparkling, lying in the middle of the bed.
Handcuffs.
She felt her entire body flush and rushed to pick them up, examining them. They were cold against her skin and heavy in her hand, undoubtedly metal, and she just held them a moment, heart racing. They definitely seemed real, since she couldn't open one of the cuffs after she latched it - thankfully, not around her wrist. She assumed there was a key hiding somewhere.
They hadn't been there when she left early that morning, but Beca had been. She was still asleep when Chloe kissed her goodbye.
The fact that they were left for her to find, to stumble upon at her leisure made excitement flood her. It was new, and kind of naughty, and Beca offered them as an invitation, a reminder that she knew what Chloe wanted and that she wanted to give it to her.
She placed the open cuff over her wrist experimentally, not quite letting it latch, and arousal, white hot and loud, flashed through her. Her fantasy had always been to snap them around Beca's wrists, but suddenly she wanted to try them on, to feel what it was like to be restrained by something more than hands, to be teased and tortured in the most exquisite of ways by the one person who could unravel her from the inside out.
Part of her wondered if these desires were metaphorical. She finally had Beca, and she was desperate to hold onto her. And she wanted Beca to know she was hers, wholly and completely, willing to anything for her.
Anything.
She remembered Beca's confession, and sat on the edge of the bed, handcuffs on her lap, to think.
A/N: To triple treble or not to triple treble. That is the question I pose to you lovely readers.