Chloe feels giddy as they walk back into the house. Happy and light after her and Beca's conversation, like she's the embodiment of an overused metaphor about walking on clouds.
It wasn't difficult for her to see that Beca had been off ever since Tom had made his unexpected appearance, but she hadn't realised it was jealousy until later in the day. It hadn't even occurred to her that jealousy could possibly have been behind Beca's snappish sourness, because Beca had nothing to be jealous of in Chloe's mind. And she'd just been so happy to see Tom, to have him there. She never would have imagined that Beca might feel threatened in some way by her interaction with him.
Truthfully, Chloe does go a little gooey around Tom, and she's aware of that. She loves him and part of her always will. She's always going to be excited to see him and, sometimes, her excitement gets the better of her. Had she known it was upsetting Beca, though, she would have at least tried to tone it down. Of course, Beca hadn't exactly been forthcoming with that information, and while that bothers Chloe, she's glad Beca was finally able to talk about it.
It does make her wonder, though. About what Beca's jealousy, the fact that Beca would be upset if Chloe were seeing someone else right now, means. It's not as though they'd discussed that before going into this. Either one of them could have been dating or fooling around with someone else; they'd never set ground rules for that.
It isn't as though they're in an actual relationship.
But Chloe has wondered what that might be like. Of course she has. She's wondered what it would be like if she were here tonight as Beca's date, rather than a best friend she also happens to make out with. A best friend she happens to make out with a lot. And also sometimes does other stuff with.
And came pretty close to doing one very specific thing with.
Chloe doesn't tend to analyse things too closely, doesn't like to. Sure, she thinks about things a lot, but there's a tendency there to avoid the nitty, gritty details that someone else might focus on.
Lately, she's finding those harder to avoid.
Does it mean something when Beca grabs her hand on the way back inside? Something more than it used to? Or is she simply leading Chloe through the house?
Did it mean something more that Beca chose to make herself vulnerable and admit her jealousy, rather than end things? Or was she just doing what Chloe has been asking her to do; be honest. And, if that's the case, what does that mean?
Those are just a few of the thoughts that swim blindly around inside Chloe's head as they walk back into the kitchen. The room is a little more occupied this time around and Beca lets go of Chloe's hand as they enter.
"Drink?" Beca offers, as she approaches the cupboard where her dad keeps the glasses and pulls two down before Chloe can answer.
"Sure." Chloe watches her walk over to where the pitcher Chloe had poured her a drink from earlier is still sitting and fills the glasses. Chloe reaches out to take the one she's offered and watches Beca simultaneously bring the other to her mouth, chugging half the glass before Chloe even has a grip on her own. She sips hers slowly, twice. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Beca half-gasps, finally coming up for air. "Thirsty."
"Maybe you should try water?" Chloe offers, tone innocent, but the raise of her eyebrow anything but. She takes another sip and, while she can't decide what's actually all in the drink, she does determine that she likes it a lot.
Beca squints at her over the edge of her glass, which she's brought to her lips again in some stubborn show of defiance. Chloe laughs and shakes her head.
Beca's Great-Aunt Mary – who is still, somehow, alive – shuffles by them then, leaning heavily on her cane. She pats Beca's shoulder and then reaches into the front pocket of the garment she's wearing. It looks like a hand-woven poncho, and out of it, Mary retrieves an envelope. She folds it in half, then stuffs it into one of Beca's pants pocket. Beca rises up on her tiptoes, eyebrows lifting in sync, the shock of the interaction evident on her face. Chloe stifles a laugh and Great-Aunt Mary flashes Beca a wink, pats her backside, then shuffles off.
Chloe stares at Beca for a long moment before they both bursting out laughing at the exact same time.
"I thought she was dead," Beca manages to whisper through her laughter, once the older woman is definitely out of earshot, and the confession only makes Chloe laugh harder. She steps forward, lifting one hand to Beca's shoulder and leaning into the shorter woman as she laughs. Their cheeks pressed together, their bodies close and touching in places. She hears Beca's laughter trail off, but doesn't initially think anything of it.
She's too caught up in the joviality of the moment and the smell of Beca's shampoo. Her nose has landed in amongst the strands of dark hair and Chloe can't help but inhale deeply. It's an automatic reflex. One she doesn't care if Beca notices.
Her laughter eases into a few, bubbly chuckles before tapering off, and as she pulls away from Beca she sees that stormy blue eyes are fixed on the wall straight ahead of her. Chloe wonders if they've been there the whole time, or if maybe she hadn't just imagined feeling Beca's gaze on her.
"Well," Chloe draws out the word, pulling Beca's attention back to her. "Are you going to open it?"
Chloe, as she suspects Beca has learned, is kind of terrible when it comes to gifts. Not at buying them, oh no. Chloe prides herself on being a master gift-giver. It's in giving the gifts that she's terrible. She has a lot of trouble waiting, even when other people have given someone a gift. So much so, that one year – and she's not proud of this – she had actually ripped the present she'd gotten Beca for her birthday out of the brunette's hands and opened it for her because Beca was, "taking too long."
Chloe gets a nearly unparalleled sense of joy out of seeing her giftees reactions. She gets such a level of pleasure and fulfilment out of seeing that person open something she'd very carefully picked out.
Out of seeing them happy.
"I think," Beca is saying then, drawing Chloe's attention back to her, "I might just leave it. Wait for like, a rainy day, or Christmas or something."
Chloe feels her eyes widen, outrage spiking, as her jaw slackens slightly and then snaps back into place almost immediately.
There's a pause of silence between them then, towards the end of which, Chloe starts to pout. She can't help it. She feels like she's being robbed. She sees Beca's attention drop to her down-turned mouth and then watches her roll her eyes with a wry smile. Then she's setting her glass down and pulling the envelope out of her pocket. Chloe squeals excitedly and hops from foot to foot.
Beca unfolds the envelope and pinches it by its side, tipping and shaking it so that whatever is inside slides to one end. Then she tears off the opposite end and Chloe stares on with rapt attention as Beca turns the envelope upside down and shakes it until something that looks suspiciously like a cheque falls into the brunette's waiting hand.
"Holy," Beca sputters, eyes the size of saucers now as Chloe bounces on the balls of her feet.
"What is it?" Her enthusiasm is bubbling, barely contained. Beca doesn't answer, only flips the cheque around so that Chloe can read the numbers on it.
"Five-hundred dollars?" Chloe gasps. Beca shrugs, at a loss.
"I hardly even know her." Beca turns the cheque back so she can look at it, staring with on with wonder. "Maybe she's legally blind and meant to write fifty?"
"I don't think so." Chloe lets out a chuckle. "Maybe..." She sidles up close to Beca again, brushing the brunettes side with her front and resting her chin on Beca's shoulder. "She's like me." Beca's eyes slide to their corners, glancing curiously at Chloe without turning her head. "Maybe she just really believes in you." She watches Beca blink, then swallow, hard, and reaches down to take hold of Beca's free hand. The one now wedged between their bodies. She tangles their fingers together. "Maybe she wants you to put the money to good use. For your career. Because maybe she's so absolutely certain that you're going to be an amazing success and she wants to be a part of that. Like I do."
It's all true, of course, on Chloe's part. She isn't sure she's ever believed in anyone so whole-heartedly before. Without so much as a sliver of doubt.
She believes in Beca more than she'd believed in unicorns as a kid. Which is saying a lot, since she still sort of believes in them even now. They're magical and they make her happy; just like Beca.
She's still somewhat reeling from Beca's confession outside. From the fact that Beca did, in fact, confess. And in this moment, still so high on that feeling of something that talk had given her, Chloe wants to ask what it means. If it means anything at all. What it means for them.
Because she believes in Beca so much that she really does want to be a part of Beca's success. Part of her life. Part of her every day. And she wants to know if Beca wants that too.
But this isn't the time or the place, and she can ruminate on her own feelings later.
"Or," Beca says with a heavy inhale, "maybe she's senile." Beca brushes the compliments off with an ease that would make first-year Beca proud and pockets the cheque. Chloe untangles their hands as she senses Beca pulling away and watches her grab a beer out of the ice bucket that's been set on the island. She twists off the cap, tossing it next to the small pile growing in front of the pail.
"Maybe you're senile." Chloe's rebuttal comes with an archly raised brow and she doesn't look away from Beca's withering glare as she gathers up the discarded tops, sweeping them from the counter with her left hand and catching them in her right.
She shakes her head as Beca refuses to comment any further, in favour of bringing the bottle to her lips instead, and Chloe turns to dump the caps into the recycling bin beneath the sink. Then she grabs a beer for herself, twisting off the top and throwing it into the bin with the rest of them.
"Sure you're okay?" Chloe asks after a moment, unable to quell her earlier worry or look at Beca as she asks the question. She plucks a pre-cut lime from the dish next to the ice bucket and expertly squeezes the juice directly into the bottle. Not a single wayward splash dripping down the neck of it. She repeats the same process a second time and then turns to find Beca smirking at her.
"Want some beer with your lime?" Beca jokes, and it's an old one, but Chloe laughs anyway. Because it's comfortable and familiar, and it makes her smile.
Just like Beca.
And she knows Beca's avoiding the question. Suspects she knows why – Beca is nothing if not awkward in the face of her own feelings and emotions – but Chloe decides to let it go, given their current setting.
She sips at her beer, enjoying the first, extra-tangy mouthful, and then she grabs Beca by the hand again, pulling her back out into the party.
Beca's just been handed another cheque – a hundred dollars this time – when she curls her fingers around Chloe's elbow and leans in close to whisper in her ear.
"I feel like a bank teller." Beca's lips don't actually make contact, but Chloe's sure she feels them. She turns her head to smile at her and is surprised to see Beca hasn't moved from her conspiratorial position.
She's close enough for Chloe to kiss.
That's the first thought that hit her and it stomps all over whatever she had been planning on replying to Beca's comment with. Which leaves her staring at Beca, steely blue eyes staring right back, for what feels like a full minute. Chloe's gaze dips to Beca's lips and lingers there, hovering, like a moth before a flame. Her eyes flick down as Beca swallows, her throat bobbing with the action, and then she's looking up again.
Waiting. Wanting.
The sound of cutlery clinking against glass disturbs the moment and once Chloe has swiftly plummeted back towards reality, she isn't sure what she'd been thinking. This room is filled with Beca's family members and there's a good chance any number of them could have had eyes on them.
But Chloe had kind of forgotten about that. About all of them.
She'd just wanted to kiss Beca.
At the unexpected sound, though, they turn towards it in unison and Beca lets out a high squeak of surprise. Or maybe it's terror; Beca's father is standing a few steps up on the staircase, in full view of everyone, holding a glass of champagne in his hand and handing a fork off to someone whose name, Chloe is pretty sure, is Kevin.
"Oh god, no," Beca mutters and Chloe glances over to catch her horrified expression. "I have to leave." She panics, spinning on the spot, as she frantically searches for the easiest way out.
"You can't," Chloe chuckles, wrapping her arm around Beca's waist and pulling her close to hold her still and stop her from fleeing. "You're the guest of honour." It also doesn't hurt to feel the press of their bodies, but Chloe keeps that to herself.
"If I could have everyone's attention please!" Professor Mitchell calls over the remaining smattering of conversation, drawing every pair of eyes in attendance to where he's standing. The house goes still and Chloe watches him sigh, then smile as he finds his daughter in the crowd. "Beca, can you come forward a little?" He gestures with his hand but Beca holds up her own, waving it dismissively.
"I'm good." That prompts a round of laughter and Chloe's laughing too as she uses the arm she has around Beca's waist to force her forward. Beca shoots her a dirty look as people move out of their way, muttering something about Chloe being a traitor out of the corner of her mouth, but Chloe just keeps on smiling.
"Thank you, Chloe." Beca's dad flashes her a wink and Beca huffs loudly, unhappily beside her. "We're here tonight to celebrate my daughter. Not only because she's graduating," a few cheers rise up at that, "but we're also here to celebrate the young woman she's become." Beca shifts against her and Chloe risks a glance in her direction.
Beca's staring straight ahead, at her father, her face betraying little. But Chloe can read the small, barely-there crease between her brows like the back of her hand and she knows what it means when Beca chews at her lip like she is. So, as any good friend would, she moves her hand to the small of Beca's back and leaves it there, brushing her thumb back and forth over the material of the shirt she's wearing.
"I know we've had our differences in the past," he's talking directly to Beca now, "and I'm sorry I didn't always support you like I should have." His smile is small, almost sad, but Chloe watches it widen with his next words. "But I think that defiance I fuelled spurred you forward. Made you work even harder, just to prove me wrong." There's a round of scattered laughter, but it doesn't come from Beca.
Chloe's thumb never stops moving.
"And I've never been happier to be wrong in my life. You are so, so talented, Beca. And I thank your mom for that, because you sure as heck didn't get any of it from me." He gestures to where Beca's mother is standing near the foot of the stairs and she rolls her eyes with a breathy chuckle.
Chloe hears Beca's sharp inhale and feels how still she becomes, and she makes a point not to look at her now. Because she knows Beca's trying not to cry.
And Chloe can't imagine what it's like to have watched your parents navigate a rocky divorce, only to witness them come back together and be this level of candid with one another. And have it be for you.
"And I'm thankful to you to, Beca. For giving a fuddy-duddy, old man like me a second chance. I'm proud of you in more ways than I can count." He pauses there, glassy-eyed, as he stares at his daughter. Then his gaze shifts and he catches Chloe's, and she sees a mischievous glint in his that is identical to the one Beca adopts whenever she's about to say something sly or cheeky. Something she shouldn't. "So, if you'll all raise your glasses, or bottles, or whatever is close by." Everyone does as their told, though Beca's bottle doesn't quite make it all the way into the air. "I'd like to toast my little girl. My Beca-bear."
Beca's silence breaks; a wet, half-laugh, half-groan rushing from her, as she turns her head into Chloe's shoulder to muffle the sound. Chloe's sure she can feel Beca's cheeks burning.
She files that piece of information away for later and repositions her arm around Beca's waist, lifting her own bottle as high as she can.
"To Beca," he says and Chloe feels Beca's head shift to look at him. "Go kick the music world's ass."
"To Beca!" Everyone in the room echoes the sentiment; Chloe's shout is the loudest.
She takes a swig from her bottle and, when Beca doesn't move from her cocoon of embarrassment, Chloe nudges her.
"You have to toast too, you know." She shakes the bottle in her hand when Beca looks up at her and dark-blue eyes roll above pink-tinged cheeks. But Beca drinks. Then, she hands Chloe the still half-full bottle.
"Can you hold this for a minute?" Beca transfers the bottle into Chloe's hand and their fingers brush, but Beca doesn't seem to notice. "I have to go, like, yell at my dad."
Chloe chuckles and watches her leave. She sees her get a few pats on the back as she goes and Chloe repositions herself so that she's standing with her back against the wall. Putting herself at a safe enough distance so that she can suruptitiously observe the interaction between father and daughter.
She can only see Beca's profile from where she is, but she can make out half of the scowl on the brunette's face as she approaches her dad. Can picture the other half without effort and knows that the scowl isn't really real, no matter how embarrassed Beca might have been. Chloe knows it was only momentary.
Just like it will be when Chloe eventually brings up the newly revealed pet name some time in the future, because how can she not? She smiles to herself, imagining a tiny version of Beca running around, answering to it. Giggling as she leaps into her father's arms; because Chloe knows they'd been close when Beca was young. Of course they had. She was an only child, her daddy's little girl.
It had helped Chloe understand Beca's animosity towards him during her first year. Being so close, then having him leave. Feeling like he didn't believe in Beca or her dream. It had hurt Beca, deeply. On varying levels.
But Chloe hadn't known any of that back then. Beca's attitude towards her dad had, frankly, always kind of bothered her. Not in a way that she ever talked about. She'd never felt as though it was her place, especially in those early days. When Beca was more likely to just build an extra wall around her in response, rather than open up.
It's just that Chloe would give anything to be able to talk to her dad again. Be in the same room as him, be able to see him again. Smiling at her.
The way Professor Mitchell is smiling at Beca now, right before pulling her into a hug that Beca actually returns after a second. Chloe smiles at the display, happy they've been able to mend their relationship. Beca's come so far.
Chloe supposes she has too, though in different ways, and she loses herself in thought for a minute, thinking about how far they've come together.
This thing between her and Beca; Chloe had never actually expected Beca to take her up on her request. She'd hoped, of course, but she'd really been expecting Beca to say no. Now, Chloe can't imagine what might have happened if Beca hadn't said yes.
She's fairly confident in the fact that she now knows she's attracted to women, as well as men, which she might never have fully realised had it not been for Beca.
But now there's this 'other thing' hovering inside of Chloe in a manner that makes her, mostly subconsciously, nervous. Because sometimes that 'thing' feels so precariously balanced. Like it might tip and fall at any moment.
She usually feels like that when she's close to Beca, which is almost all the time lately, and Chloe doesn't want to put any distance between them.
She just doesn't want anything to crash and burn either.
Which is perhaps a futile thought, since she can already feel the burning. The flames licking at the wooden stake, on top of which that 'thing' balances. Charring and splintering it, making everything that much more dangerous. Something that both thrills and terrifies Chloe.
Because she thinks back to their talk on the patio, how Beca had said nothing between them was changing, and Chloe feels a spike of something sharp shoot painfully through her chest.
Because things have already started changing for Chloe.
She can feel it in the way she looks at Beca. How her eyes linger like they're drinking in Beca's entire existence.
She feels it in her hands. How they reach for Beca more frequently and in a manner that is less and less friendly each time.
She feels it in her stomach when they kiss. Like an infinity rolling wave of thunder.
She'd felt it the night before. When they'd been so close to crossing a barrier that there would be no chance of hopping back over. Chloe had felt the change in how she hadn't cared. How she'd wanted to to cross it.
She feels it in the way her heart hurts when she thinks about all of this ending. When she thinks about saying goodbye. And it was never going to be easy, the though has always caused an ache, but it's different now.
She can't help but wonder if it's at all different for Beca. If their earlier talk had actually meant something that would give Chloe reason to believe that it is different for her now too. There's a part of Chloe that tells her yes. Of course it meant something. Why else would Beca be jealous?
But there's an even bigger part that reminds her of how she always feels more than others.
Always loves more.
And she doesn't think she could handle that again. Not with Beca.
People think Chloe is this free spirit, who's always happy and honest about everything. Always open with her feelings. And sure, maybe that's partly true.
But Chloe's no stranger to holding things in. To pulling back, just enough. She isn't good at letting go, but she can sure bottle things up.
"You okay?" Beca is suddenly right there in front of her and Chloe jumps a little at the sound of her voice, blinking Beca's face into focus. Beca's mouth slides into a smirk as she takes her bottle back. "Where'd you go?"
There's a single second where Chloe's mind works overtime, running through all potential answers to the question. In the end, she simply plasters on a fake smile.
"Nowhere," she says. "Just thinking." She flicks her attention towards Beca's father, then meets Beca's gaze again. "Well, it looks like he survived." Chloe arches an eyebrow and Beca laughs, lifting her bottle to her lips and swallowing a mouthful of beer before responding.
"For now," she sighs, her face somewhat grim and serious, but her eyes are sparkling. And Chloe knows Professor Mitchell is totally safe, but she'll let Beca pretend. "How much longer do you think I have to stay?" Beca groans.
Chloe looks towards the clock hanging above the archway that leads into the kitchen. They've been here nearly three hours. She hums, squinting her eyes as Beca watches her.
"At least until other people start to leave," she surmises, and Beca groans again. Chloe's smiles again, wide and real now, and she shakes her head. She takes hold of Beca's forearm, partly to add emphasis to what she's about to say, and partly because she desires the contact. "You can't be the first person to leave your own party, Beca."
"Ugh." Beca actually speaks the word, rather than grunting it. "I hate it when you're right."
Chloe watches her take another swig of her beer and copies the action with a small chuckle.
"You love me," she mutters around the mouth of the bottle neck, drinking as Beca rolls her eyes at her and looks away.
Beca doesn't say anything. Doesn't have any kind of cute comeback.
And Chloe feels a difference in that too.
After his little speech, Professor Mitchell comes looking for Beca, with Shelia right beside him, and he'd handed her an envelope. An envelope much like the others Beca had been collecting all night long, except this one had 'Follow your dreams' scrawled across the front of it in pretty, cursive lettering. Chloe wonders which of them the handwriting belongs to.
When Beca opens it, she finds a cheque – Chloe doesn't see the amount on it, but whatever it is, it makes Beca's eyes bulge – and a note that Beca reads aloud.
"To get you started, wherever your talent takes you." Her eyes are shiny as she throws her arms around her dad and whispers thank you, before giving Shelia the same treatment. It's a touching moment; one Chloe's moved to be a part of.
It's just after ten when people start to trickle out. Each one taking the time to say goodbye to both Chloe and Beca, and congratulate them on graduating. Sheila is the perfect host and walks all of them to the door.
It seems like a pretty solid flow for a good half hour, and Chloe only realises that they're only two of seven people left when she turns away from saying goodbye to one of Beca's cousins and finds the room to be almost empty.
Beca's mom, dad, one set of aunts and uncles, Shelia, and the two of them are the only people left.
As it turns out, the aunt and uncle are spending the night at the house and Beca's mom has called a cab to take her back to her hotel.
Beca's mom sheds a few tears as she leaves and Chloe feels the tiniest bit like an intruder as she watches the two of them embrace. Hears her mother tell Beca how proud she is, that she loves her. But then she's looking over Beca's shoulder and ushering Chloe over with one hand.
"Get in here, you." And Chloe's never been one to say no to a hug.
Beca walks her mom out to the cab and Chloe sets about helping Sheila clean up.
"You don't have to do that, sweetie." Sheila's eyes are a soft, light brown colour, and as she leans in to try and still Chloe's hands where they're collecting empty glasses from various surfaces, Chloe can see vibrant flecks of green in them that she'd never noticed before. Sheila's shoulder-length hair is a shade somewhere between dark brown and mahogany, and for a brief second Chloe wonders if the colour is natural or out of a box.
"It's fine," Chloe assures her with a smile, holding the glasses closer to her chest to dissuade the older woman from taking them. "I like helping." Shelia smiles back at her and then holds her hands up in surrender, before disappearing into the kitchen to start cleaning up in there.
When she was still in high school, Chloe had taken a part time job as a waitress, and she's reminded of that time now as she juggles glasses in her arm. She'd enjoyed the experience, met a number of interesting people, and always made good tips.
She picks up three glasses between the fingers of her free hand and trails after Shelia, depositing them into the dishwasher before returning to the living room. When she does, Beca's walking back in through the front door. She glances at Chloe and Chloe knows immediately that she's been crying. Not a lot, Beca's eyes are just a little glassy, but Chloe can tell. She doesn't want to say anything though, knows how Beca can be when it comes to her emotions.
"Did you make sure the driver wasn't skeezy-looking?" she asks, and her question has the desired effect of making Beca laugh.
"Yes." With a nod of her head, Beca shuts the door and walks over to help Chloe. There isn't much to do though, most of the guests having cleaned up after themselves, and before long Shelia and Beca's dad are ushering them towards departing. Beca's aunt calls them a cab.
"Are you sure you don't need any help?" Chloe persists, uneasy about leaving when there might still be clean up to take care of. But Sheila pulls her into a hug and tells her that they're fine. She hugs Beca next and then it's Professor Mitchell's turn.
He grabs them both in a bear-hug.
"Thank you for coming. Both of you." He's very clearly being sincere and it makes Chloe's heart ache a little. Makes her miss her own father a little bit more. She'd be so glad her mom could come, and her brother had sent her a gushing text message that morning, but she'd felt the loss of her father very poignantly during the day.
"Thanks for letting me tag along." Chloe's smile is real, but it trembles slightly, and Beca must have been watching her because Chloe feels an arm loop through her own, holding tight. She shoots the brunette a sidelong glance, but Beca isn't looking at her anymore.
"Thank you for this." Beca gestures to the room with her free hand, the house at large, then at her dad and Sheila, letting her arm fall, useless and heavy, back to her side. Like she doesn't have the words to say what she wants to. "For everything."
A moment of silence follows and Chloe can only imagine the littany of things being silently conveyed between father and daughter. They've had a rough ride. Chloe's glad it's ended smoothly.
They hear a honk from outside and both she and Beca wave goodbye to the remaining aunt and uncle, then they're stepping out into the night air.
"Did you have a good time?" Chloe asks, as they walk side-by-side down the path towards where the cab is waiting for them.
"It wasn't terrible."
Chloe doesn't need to look to know that Beca is smiling.
She's thinking about that, how well she knows Beca now verses that first year and vice versa, as they climb into the back seat of the car. And it's strange to Chloe, to think that, if he hadn't failed to graduate back then, she would have missed out on a friendship that's become to vitally important to her life. Not just Beca's friendship either, but all the Bellas'.
There's no denying that Beca has become singularly important, though. Beyond that of the group.
No denying that there's more between them now than friendship for Chloe.
Beca's in the middle of giving the driver directions back to the house when Chloe puts a hand on her knee. Effectively cutting Beca off mid-sentence and pulling her attention to where Chloe is sitting, perhaps too close, beside her. Beca doesn't say anything, but her expression is questioning.
"I don't want to go home yet," Chloe confesses, quietly, unsure of herself. Beca furrows her brow but accepts the veiled request without question.
"Where do you want to go?"
Chloe doesn't have to think for long.
The campus is a little busier than it usually is at this time of night, but Chloe isn't surprised to see people going back and forth, whooping and hollering. She's sees one guy running around without a shirt, 'FREEDOM' written across his broad chest in what looks like lipstick. Chloe chuckles, Beca makes a disgruntled sound in the back of her throat. She suspects even people who aren't leaving are partying.
The back side of Barden is fairly void of human life in comparison to the front, though. Or so it seems. Chloe spies the conjoined shadow of a few people running, stumbling, but they're off in the distance. She and Beca duck between buildings and then there's no one at all.
Chloe watches Beca eye the empty pool with suspicion – maybe she's trying to work out how many bones she might break if she falls – before she eventually sits down without a word. Legs dangling over the side and hands curved around the chipped edging. Chloe drops down beside her, mimicking Beca's position and posture, and sits close enough that their pinkies brush before Chloe readjusts the distance between their hands.
They sit in comfortable silence for a short time, until Beca starts swinging her legs and inadvertently knocks them against Chloe's. Then they're engaging in some kind of mini leg-bump war that results in the two of them laughing alone beside an empty pool, dusted in the light shining down from the windows of the buildings surrounding them.
"Has this thing ever had water in it?" Beca asks, bemused, once they've both calmed some. Chloe chuckles, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. She hooks her foot under Beca's ankle and lifts Beca's leg up, just once, before letting it go.
"I think Barden used to have a swim team." Chloe frowns a little, searching her memory for any Barden history that's unrelated to the Bellas. Of which there is some, but not nearly as much. "They don't see much action anymore, obviously."
"Shame, really," Beca hums, thoughtful, and Chloe turns to look at her, curious. Stormy eyes slide to their corners and catch Chloe's gaze. Then Beca glances very pointedly towards the pool, before returning her attention to Chloe. "We could have pulled off some crazy, synchronized, a cappella swim-singing."
Chloe's jaw drops and she gasps so loudly that the sound echoes back to them, bouncing off the other side of the pool.
"Beca! Why would you say that?!" She delivers a slap to Beca's upper arm and ignores the squeal of protest that the brunette emits. "Now I'm going to have unfulfilled dreams of a cappella greatness that can never be achieved!" Chloe is serious. Very serious. She doesn't understand why Beca is laughing at her. "You're a monster." So, Chloe pouts.
And when Beca sees that, she stops laughing and snares her lower lip between her teeth, before looking back down into the empty pool.
"I'm sorry," Beca says after a moment, adding, "Maybe we can all meet up at a pool sometime and make it happen." She's joking, Chloe is sure, but Chloe is also certain that Beca would try and make it happen for her if she asked.
After all, she's done it time and time again for Chloe over the years.
Is still doing it, right now, in this very moment.
The thought makes Chloe's eyes tear up and she casts her gaz down into the pool as well.
And she's struck, then, by a memory and a realisation, both of which are so powerful that they almost push those threatening tears free.
"You know," Chloe pauses, trying to wrangle the tremble in her voice into submission. "This is where you became a Bella for the first time. Where you really became one." She feels Beca's eyes on her, but keeps her own focused on the bottom of the pool as the memory plays out in all its high-definition glory. "It wasn't at initiation or hood night. It was right here, when you jumped into the riff off and just..." Chloe sighs, heartfelt and wistful. "Blew everyone away."
"You mean that time I blew our chance at winning," Beca amends with some light derision, and Chloe turns her head to look at her.
"That was a dumb technicality and favouritism." Chloe's correction is grumbled and sour; the wound still hasn't fully healed. "Besides," she reaches out, unthinking, and tucks a few strands of Beca's hair behind her ear so that Chloe can see her face. "We won in the end." Her thumb skirts Beca's jawline before she takes her hand back and Beca doesn't so much as blink as Chloe's speaks. "Because of you."
Beca rolls her eyes, but her smile is soft, and the sight of it makes Chloe's heart flutter in a manner so cliched that she'd honestly be embarrassed if she cared.
But she doesn't.
"Why are you so..." Beca trails off with a shake of her head and remains silent for a long few seconds, her eyes downcast. Chloe watches as she swipes her tongue across the front of her teeth and when she's met with more silence, she decides to break it.
"What, Beca?" Maybe it's the way Chloe asks, the fact that she asks at all, or maybe it's how she says Beca's name; like she's used up the very last of her oxygen just to say it one last time.
Beca blows out a breath, long and wispy.
"You never stopped believing in me," Beca manages, talking quietly, almost to herself.
And this is what kills Chloe. The fact that they've had multiple conversations about this and Beca still can't wrap her head around that.
"Are you asking me why?" Chloe will repeat herself a million times if she has to. Will find new ways to explain how much she believes in Beca if it'll somehow make Beca see herself through Chloe's eyes.
"No." Beca swallows, shaking her head, slowly. "I just," she sighs, "want to say thank you. For that. I guess."
And Chloe chuckles, because Beca's never stopped being some sort of awkward and Chloe loves her for that.
"And thank you for coming tonight," Beca continues. "Pretty sure I wouldn't have made it without you, so..." Beca's voice is low and vulnerable and it pulls at Chloe.
There's such a small amount of space between them that it's easy for Chloe to slide her hand over to cover Beca's. Their eyes meet and Chloe smiles.
"I am so glad that I met you." Her eyes feel a little wet as she speaks.
"You know," Beca returns the smile, "you've said that to me before. Like, those exact words."
And Chloe knows. Of course she knows. Remembers herself saying it through the haze of whatever it was they were all drinking that night. She can't help but be surprised that Beca has remembered, though. After all this time.
"Yeah," Chloe agrees, her voice soft and breathless as she stares at Beca. "I did. But I mean it even more now."
And she does. So much more that it would be pointless to even try and put it into words. She wonders if Beca knows that. Understands it. She can only hope that she does. But then that thought is fading.
Because Beca is still smiling at her, face lit by the light from the windows, and there's only room in Chloe's head for one single thought. Albeit a rather all-encompasing one.
She leans in, ducking her head and tilting it just so, and moving with enough hesitation to give Beca time to retreat back. To look around awkwardly and then throw Chloe an apologetic smile that says, "maybe later."
But Beca remains still. Her eyelids droop with every millimetre of ground that Chloe gains and Chloe's heart thumps harder at the sight. Then her spirit soars, like it always does at the press of her lips to Beca's.
There's no one around, but the potential for anyone to walk by is very real. Chloe doesn't care and that's nothing new, but Beca?
Beca kisses her back like she doesn't care either and Chloe's entire body surges at that. At the difference in this kiss.
How Beca is the one to deepen it, stroking her tongue into Chloe's mouth so slowly and unhurried that it makes Chloe's skin hum.
She turns the hand hers is covering over so that she can lace their fingers together and she wants so badly to pull Beca to her. To lie her down beside the pool and press their bodies together. She wants to feel closer to Beca than is physically possible and the idea has her sighing into the kiss, as their mouths part only to meet once more. Again and again.
There's so much more she wants now, Chloe thinks, and in different ways. She's always wanted to feel close to Beca but the desired level of intimacy never used to be this high.
Not that she can recall, anyway.
Beca's always been special to Chloe.
But everything feels different now.
"Let's go home." And it's Beca who speaks. Her words ghosting over Chloe's lips and Chloe feels herself nodding, dazedly, as Beca stands. She offers her hands to Chloe, pulling her to her feet, and their bodies bump as she stands.
And she kisses Beca again. Just once. Just because she can. This time, Beca sighs into the kiss, the hands still holding Chloe's squeezing gently.
And there's something different in that, too.