A/N: Yeah. So, I just need to move on because I'm hardcore stuck, so here's some business I'm not remotely proud of, but better things are ahead that I'm excited to get to!

Chloe thought the Bellas grilling her about engagement and wedding details that weekend had been a lot; it had been fun, laughs and squealing and gushing about everyone's dreams about weddings and dresses and white picket fences and babies.

However, it was nothing in comparison to sharing the news over the phone with her non-Facebook-having mother. Her mother was amazing; she loved her mother - she could make an argument that her mother was the coolest mother in the world, and not in the "Mean Girls cool mom" way but in the genuinely cool mom way. But her mother was still a mother and sometimes her scale tipped more toward mom and less toward cool.

First, she cried and talked about how her baby was growing up and becoming a woman (Really? 'Becoming' a woman? I'm twenty-five, Mom. I'm getting married, it's not my first period.)

Then she demanded to know every detail about the proposal - who said what, and when, and how, and where. Chloe had to send her a photo of her ring. She asked if they had set a date. (Mom, it's been, like, a month. We aren't in a rush.)

She asked if Chloe was finally going to make her a grandmother. (Finally? You can't be serious; you're only forty-eight. 'I was younger than you are now when I had you! And there are ladies in my book club younger than me with grandchildren!' We are probably as far away from being ready for kids as humanly possible. You're going to have to be patient. 'So you're going to have kids?' Mom!)

She said she would check with their church's office to see what their autumn calendar looked like for wedding ceremony availability. All that did was stress out Chloe about wedding details and the fact that Beca was very likely not a get-married-in-a-church kind of girl. And there was also the fact that Chloe's family was in Florida, and Beca's was in Oregon and Georgia, and how would they decide where to have a wedding? ('Well, you have to get married in our church, Chloe. That congregation basically raised you, and you know we've always been an accepting faith.' Mom, I don't even know those people! And I didn't say we're getting married in the fall!)

Chloe had to cut off the conversation, coming up with an excuse about something in the oven she needed to tend to. Her mother was the best, truly, but oh how she knew how to pile on the undue stress. She spoke to her father briefly before hanging up - he offered his congratulations and said he loved and missed her. He was always a man of few words, though they were always meaningful.

Beca's dad found out through Facebook, something both he and Beca were displeased with. Beca talked to him New Year's Day, in the evening, literally less than twenty-four hours after the popped question, but it was too late. And when he demanded - not angrily - to know why Beca didn't call him immediately, Chloe giggled at Beca stumbling over an explanation about how they'd slept in, were battling hangovers, went to a movie, then dinner, and she was just starting to feel up for a phone call.

Of course, it couldn't be further from the truth, other than the bit about sleeping in. After their...vigorous...lovemaking, they'd spent the better part of the day in bed, just being together, watching TV and cuddling with some interspersed making out and Thai food delivery. Their phones chimed and rang most of the day with messages from friends and family responding to the news spreading through social media. They used commercial breaks to respond, but phone calls were being ignored - until Beca's dad called.

While Beca defended herself to her father, Chloe retrieved the harness from where it had been discarded on the floor by Beca and forgotten earlier in the day to wave the dildo toward Beca like a floppy sword, making her laugh and bat it away before leaving her to her phone conversation to disassemble and wash things in the bathroom.

After a weekend of retelling the news to arguably everyone in her entire life, Chloe returned to the West Hollywood Academy for the Performing Arts and got to do it all over again. She didn't make a big announcement about it, but the women noticed her ring, grabbing her hand to gush over it and ask for all the details. No one gushed more so than her personal cheerleader, Mrs. Washington, who simply couldn't believe that the two "legendary" Bellas were marrying each other. She was sure it meant something in the stars was aligning for some kind of global event.

The news even made it into the ICCA monthly email newsletter: DEFENDING WORLD CHAMPION BARDEN BELLAS CO-CAPTAINS SET TO MARRY.Or even ask them for an interview; everything they wrote was culled from the Bellas' Facebook group. They had yet to report on Beca landing a major producing contract. Go figure.

Everyone at school asked the same questions:

"Have you set a date?"

"Who asked whom?"

"Oh, to a woman?" came from the older staff with whom she didn't socialize enough to know her personal life. Most of the staff was pretty open-minded, being an art school, and though no one made a negative comment, she could feel the well-hidden disapproval from a few of them.

"Is she making you sign a pre-nup?" came from her absolute favorite colleague, Anika Schmidt. "Since she's probably going to be a millionaire. And let's face it. None of us are going to become millionaires being teachers."

Chloe frowned, offended by the question, though she noted Anika kind of softened the blow by lumping herself into the "working stiffs" group. She also hadn't thought about the legal mumbo jumbo that came with marriage. Which was obviously a legal matter itself. Duh, Chloe.

"I don't know."

"She'd be a moron not to. No offense."

"Um, yeah," Chloe said, sliding her chair out from the table to leave. "None taken?"

Ahh, the joys of workplace dynamics. She certainly hadn't missed them over the winter break, and it was a little rough getting back into the swing of things. Her students seemed to have forgotten every classroom rule and it was minor chaos for the first week back.

It made her grateful for the stability at home.

Beca's work on the album was, officially, finished. Now she was working on live arrangements for the upcoming promotional appearances and subsequent global concert tour that would come with the release, but it was mostly a solo project for her and Beca kept her own hours, having plenty of lead time. Most days she got up with Chloe and drove her to school before heading to the studio. She'd been relocated to a smaller (cheaper) studio which was much closer to Choe's school, and some days she was even able to meet Chloe for lunch.

Sometimes she brought Taco Bell with her and they ate it in the car in the school parking lot while Chloe vented about her day.

And more often than not, Beca was waiting for her when she walked out the door at the end of the day to take them home where one of them would make dinner, or they'd cook together or order in, and sit down to watch TV and talk about their day. They were caught up on their DVR for the first time since Chloe started working.

On the rare occasions Beca was stuck at work, forcing Chloe to take the dreaded bus home, she missed the domesticity. It was those nights she laughed at herself for being so far gone over someone, and then shrugged it off and texted Beca to tell her she missed her.

That was Chloe's January - routine, domesticity, jogging in the mild Pacific coast winter weather, and cuddling on the couch; the arrival of an invitation Capitol Records' Grammy Awards viewing party next month.

She knew she should have been mentally preparing, but she kept telling herself it would be fine. That it would be fine when their life would get upheaved in February once Katy's single officially dropped.

There were hints of things to come as some of Beca's days were spent on the phone with news outlets, talking about the new album. Sometimes she was chauffeured around the Greater Los Angeles Area for in-person or on-camera interviews or photo-ops with Katy to accompany the articles that would start showing up soon. She was coming home with professionally done hair and make-up, and the occasional new designer outfit or accessory. Chloe knew it wasn't industry standard for a new producer to get the attention Beca was getting, but the label was positioning her strategically. Beca was a woman, and mainstream female producers in the music industry were as hard to come by as a snowflake in summer. Katy was already a girl power icon, and they gave her a one-two punch by two girls making girl power music. Beca thought it was cool to be able to talk about her music, and Chloe thought it was refreshing that Big Corporate was wanting to empower young girls.

Or maybe they just had two hot chicks at their disposal to sell records.

It was weird, for lack of a better descriptor. Beca was still Beca, but sometimes Beca's name would pop up on the radio or her face would face show up in the magazine Chloe was reading. It really only happened once so far, in her issue of Glamour, and the picture, a floating head, was barely the size of her thumb, tucked into a pink column with a few random facts about Katy's upcoming album and favorite mascara. It was as weird as it was exciting, because it was Beca. In a magazine. She'd ripped the page out of her magazine and hung it inside her teacher-only cabinet in her classroom. And then she'd bought another copy of the magazine, ripped the page out again, and proudly tacked it onto the cork-board in the teachers' lounge that was home to notes about garage sales, athletics schedules, and rooms for rent. But not before grabbing a Sharpie and writing, over the area of the page that wasn't the tiny feature, THE FUTURE MRS. She stopped, realizing she had no idea if Beca was going to become Beca Beale, or if she was going to become Chloe Mitchell, or if they were going to become Beale-Mitchell or Mitchell-Beale, or if they'd both keep their surnames, or pick a new one altogether, or none of the above, and she settled on what would be semi-accurate and understandable to her colleagues: THE FUTURE MRS. CHLOE BEALE with a swoopy arrow pointing at Beca's floating head with more than a few exclamation points, and a heart around her for good measure.

On February 1st, Chloe excitedly went to work early to do her classroom decor changeover from nondescript winter to all manner of hearts - red, pink, white, purple, fake candy ones. Valentine's Day was arguably one of her favorite holidays, vying for first place with Christmas. Not for the corny Hallmark cards and boxes of chocolates, but because it was a day dedicated to showing someone how much you cared about them. She made a conscious effort to do that every day for Beca, but Valentine's Day was something special, a day that crackled with excitement and a pleasant tension of what was to come after flowers and dinner and dessert.

So far in this relationship, Chloe dropped the ball on Beca's birthday and even a marriage proposal, by her standards. Things went off without much of a plan or fanfare; minimalistic to say the least. Of course, they were still wildly successful events, but lacked the Chloe Beale flare.

But this was Valentine's Day! Their very first as a couple - a couple engaged to be married. She wouldn't let it fall into haphazard minimalism.

"Hey, babe?" she asked that evening as they sat side by side on the couch, computers propped on both their laps.

"Hmm?"

"Valentine's is in a couple weeks."

"Oh, yeah, it is."

"It's totally fine if you haven't, but have you made any plans for us? I want to do something, but we can't both plan surprises."

Beca looked up from her computer, smiling. "You're planning a surprise?"

Chloe met her smile with a brilliant one of her own. "Maybe. But only if you don't already have something planned. And it's really okay if you don't. No judgement or anything, I have zero expectation. And if you do, it's totally cool, and we can do that."

Beca's grin dropped into a crooked half-smile. "I made reservations at this place."

Chloe chewed on her lower lip, and then sighed. "You know, Beca. I'm supposed to be the mushy, romantic one in this relationship, and you keep throwing off our established roles."

"I didn't say what the place was. It could be a cage fighting match."

Chloe laughed. "Are you going to tell me what it is? Because I know it's not a cage fight."

"It's totally a cage fight." Beca held her curious gaze for a long moment until they both broke down laughing, Beca shaking her head. "I haven't planned anything yet. It's all you, baby."

Chloe nodded, knowing exactly what she wanted to do.

There was excitement and flailing and crying the first time they heard the song in the car together that Tuesday. Beca knew what time it was premiering, and they made a point of rushing to get ready for work so they would be in the car with the radio blasting when the time came.

Chloe had already heard it innumerable times, and Beca infinitely more of course, but there was something special, something exciting about hearing it on the radio, broadcast to millions, listening together in one united moment. It was a dream coming true for Beca. It was a lifelong goal being met. It was a reminder that hard work and focus - with a dash of good timing and a pinch of luck and a hefty dose of right place/right time - could make things happen. Chloe had never felt more proud of Beca, and to be the one by her side.

Then the song was everywhere - always on the radio, always on the older students' iPhones, always over the loudspeakers in whatever store she was in, whether grocery or clothing or mall.

It was real. Beca had produced a Billboard Top Ten single, debuting at Number 5 and it only showed signs of picking up speed. They'd celebrated so many times that Chloe was considering a temporary boycott on alcohol because she was sure it had overtaken water as her most frequently consumed beverage.

The song's immediate success pulled Beca out of the house a little more; joint interviews were being set up around Katy's schedule and Beca had to go with the flow. Chloe didn't mind much, not this week. She had an elaborate Valentine's Day event to prepare for, and she couldn't do it with Beca in the house, and Beca was booked all day Saturday.

Chloe started with laying out her note cards - squares of red construction paper she'd used the school's die-cutting machine to make - across the dining table with a selection of Sharpies. She put on some music and sat down with a glass of ice water and bowl of grapes, popping one in her mouth as she wiggled her fine-point Sharpie between her fingers. She grabbed a square and folded it in half and traded pens for a bold-tipped marker and wrote CLUE #1on the exterior. Humming to herself as she thought what to write on the interior, she popped another grape and picked up the fine-tipped marker again, hand poised over the paper, smiling.