Beca gets a special Beale Breakfast Platter as soon as she wanders out of her room the next morning. It's barely six and she navigates the hallway with her eyes closed, following the smell of bacon. She rounds the corner into the living room and runs smack into a pair of arms that wrap tight around her.

"Awww, sleepy Becs!" Stacie squeezes her once, rocking them back and forth. "Good morning!"

"Get off me," she grunts, shoving at Stacie's hips until she releases her. She spins out of the tall girl's hold and right into Chloe's.

"Morning, Bec." Chloe squeezes her tight, hands stroking up and down her back.

And she'll swear that she just used all her energy escaping Stacie, but really, Chloe's hands feel amazing on her back (back rubs have always been her weakness) and she smells like her strawberry shampoo. So Beca just groans, letting the redhead take her morning hugs. When Chloe finally releases her with a chuckle, she slouches off to her armchair and rolls right into it, kicking the legs out.

Stacie hands her a plate brimming with bacon, pancakes, and sausage, and a glass of milk that Beca tucks between her knees and crosses her ankles to keep in place while she eats. In the kitchen, Chloe is humming "Versace on the Floor" and pots and pans are banging about.

God, she hates mornings, but, as she works her way through her ridiculously-fluffy pancakes, she thinks maybe Chloe makes them tolerable. Stacie, too, she guesses.

"Okay, shovel it down, missy. We're heading out as soon as you're done and dressed!"

Take that back, she's the worst. Stacie makes mornings even worse than ever. Beca groans. "What? Can't I wake up first?"

"Nope," Chloe appears around the side of the armchair and snags the milk from between her knees. She takes a sip then carefully replaces it. "We've already eaten and taken the bags downstairs. Mr. Ackerman is watching them."

"You took my bags?" Beca thinks for a moment, trying to remember if she saw them at the foot of her bed when she got up, but it's hazy.

"Yes. And I laid out your outfit for today. You sleep like the dead, by the way." Stacie points a finger at her as she moves past to close the blinds on the living room windows. "I had to make sure you'd look presentable for Chloe's parents."

Beca grimaces. She's "met the parents" before with people she'd actually dated. It never went well. She's just patently unlikeable, it seems. "I'm not taking out my piercings."

"Of course you aren't," Chloe says, reaching out to run her finger down them. Beca shivers and covers it up by hissing and swatting at her. "I love them. You look adorable."

"I-I look badass, excuse you? Adorable?" Beca drops her empty plate into her lap, fully ready to fight.

Stacie snatches the plate. "She's done! Get her dressed!"

Chloe grabs the shoulders of Beca's shirt, tugging it up. Air hits Beca's stomach and she snatches for the hem. "Let's go! Strip!"

"I can do it!" Beca smacks her hands away, grabbing her drink and wiggling out of her chair and around Chloe's grasping hands. "Don't touch me! I can dress myself!" She runs for her room, throwing her middle finger up behind her as Chloe and Stacie laugh. She really hates them.

But as she pulls on the skinny jeans Stacie had left out for her, she thinks again about the night before. It had been...good. Better than good. And they hadn't even kissed. Just flirted and teased a little. But it had been good. Enjoyable. Memorable, even, if she had to describe it. But she won't. Because she's not thinking about this. Anyway.

She quickly fixes her makeup in the little mirror on her dresser. Once she's satisfied with her eyeliner, (because that's really the only makeup she wears) she throws on her favorite flannel, glad that Stacie hadn't laid out a dress or something weird for her, and follows the sound of laughter and tinkling keys to the front door. Chloe is holding up her coat for her to slip into. If the redhead's fingers brush against her neck when she lets go, she doesn't seem to notice, so Beca pretends not to either.

They stop off twice-to drop a spare key with Ms. McKinney, who has agreed to water Chloe's plants while they're gone, and to grab their luggage from Mr. Ackerman, the tiny maintenance man who lives on the bottom floor. Stacie takes the front seat in the cab, like always, leaving Chloe and Beca and two of their suitcases in the back. Beca ends up in the middle of Chloe and the luggage, her knees practically tucked into her chest and her arms tightly folded. As Stacie strikes up conversation with the poor driver, Chloe turns and pulls open Beca's coat. She rubs the hem of Beca's flannel between her fingers. "Oh, look, purple. Your favorite color."

"I didn't pick this outfit." She would have. But only because this shirt is soft and well-worn. Not because it's purple. "Stacie picked it."

"Sure, sure." Chloe hums noncommittally, then yawns. Behind her, the sun is just peeking between the skyscrapers in the distance. "God, it's so early."

"Whoa, Beale. I thought mornings were your favorite."

"They are. But this is just a little too early for even me." She twists a little, slipping into the gap she's created in Beca's coat and snuggling close. "Wake me when we get to the airport?"

Beca's too tired to fight her off, so she just nods, letting her shoulders relax so Chloe isn't sleeping on hard bone and tensed muscle. It's barely a minute before Chloe is breathing softly into the curve of her neck. Stacie chatters away in the front seat, flirting outrageously with the cabbie, and Ed Sheeran is playing quietly on the radio. Cars are honking and roaring around them, but she's used to the sounds of the city. The back of Chloe's jacket is soft and she barely notices she's running her fingers up and down it, tracing the edges of the embroidered birds along the spine. It's Chloe's favorite-bright pink and lined with faux-fur. It hurts Beca's eyeballs just thinking about it. She lays her head back against the seat, thinking she can rest for just a minute-

Stacie's leaned between the front seats, shaking her leg. "Come on, lovebirds. We're here." There's something a little too knowing in her smirk and Beca's first, fully awake thought is that she wants to smack it off of her. But she can't, because Chloe has captured her hand sometime while they were asleep.

While Stacie rolls out of the cab, all legs and sensual grace, Beca pulls her hand free and grabs Chloe's elbow, which is dug into her ribs. "Hey. Chlo, wake up."

Chloe stirs, her eyes blinking open slowly. "Mm. I'm up, I'm up." She nuzzles her face into Beca's neck once more before she sits up and pushes the door open. Beca follows her out of the cab, rubbing the goosebumps from her arms. It's so cold outside, she thinks, pulling her coat closed.

Their driver helps them pull their luggage from the trunk and the back seat before he quickly jumps off into traffic and leaves them, casting Stacie one last fearful glance. Stacie waves as he goes.

The airport is packed and it wakes Beca a bit, dodging men in thick overcoats and women dragging children by the hand. But she's still on autopilot as Chloe leads the trio through luggage check and security and suddenly they're sitting, waiting for their flight to be called. Chloe is across the way, getting them some drinks.

"You ready for this, Deejay?" Stacie says, crossing her legs and pulling out her phone.

Beca shrugs. "Yeah, flying ain't nothin'. Gonna sleep the whole way if I can."

The laugh Stacie lets out makes the two, dozing old men across the aisle glare. "I meant are you ready to be Chloe's fake girlfriend?"

"Oh." Beca shrugs, glancing at the redhead that is currently reaching for their drinks over the counter and chattering happily with the cashier. "Yeah, dude. I mean, if Chloe's family is as trusting as she is, we don't have to worry at all." She shifts to pull her phone from her back pocket. "She'll just say, 'This is my girlfriend, Beca' and they'll run with it."

"But what about Tom?"

"What about him?"

Stacie shrugs, watching Chloe approach. "He was never very...trusting."

Before Beca can ask her to elaborate, Chloe drops into the seat on her other side. "Hey! Here, take this. I got you a brownie. Stacie, a scone."

"Hell yes," Stacie mutters, snatching the scone and dropping crumbs on Beca's lap.

They sit, drinking their coffees quick and making their snacks last. Beca's just shoving the last bit of brownie in her mouth when their flight is called. She grabs her bag and jumps a little when Chloe's hand slips into hers.

"Here we go, girlfriend," Chloe says, bumping their shoulders together.

Beca wakes up in Georgia as the plane is bouncing down the tarmac. Chloe's hand is on her thigh, gently squeezing.

"Bec? We're landing."

She nods, pushing up in her seat and scrubbing at her face. Stacie, who had claimed the window seat, swats Beca's hands away and starts rubbing at her cheeks. "You're messing up your makeup."

"Get-I can-stop, I can do it-"

"Come on, let Mamma fix you up-"

"Do NOT call yourself that-"

"Would you prefer Daddy?"

They bicker all the way off the plane, Chloe chuckling ahead of them and occasionally hurrying them along. Without her, Beca's not sure they would have made it through security and baggage claim.

But they make it. Stacie has an arm locked around Beca's neck, tugging her side to side with every long-legged step she takes. Chloe is massively unhelpful beyond stuffing their coats into one of the suitcases so they don't have to carry them.

The clip on her bag strap is digging into her armpit and Stacie pulls too hard one time, almost sending them both to the ground. The passersby ignore her protests and cries for help.

"This is-Get off me! I'm carrying my equipment!" Beca growls, twisting in Stacie's hold as they step outside. The heat slaps her like a hammer, sweeping under her long sleeves and sitting heavy on the back of her neck. Stacie releases her and she spins, smacking her carry-on into the taller woman's stomach.

Stacie's breath hisses out and she coughs a quick laugh, grabbing the bag.

"You're so hostile," Chloe giggles, wrapping her arms around Beca's waist and pulling her back into her chest. "How do you fit all that rage in this tiny body?" She lifts, taking Beca back a few steps from Stacie.

"Why does this always happen?" Beca huffs, her lungs squeezed tight. "Put me down!"

Chloe obeys, releasing her so suddenly that Beca has to grab her forearm with one hand-her computer bag with the other-to keep from falling to the ground. But as soon as Beca's steady, Chloe is moving past her and straight into the arms of a tall, red headed man. "Uncle Lew!"

"Ladybug!" He swings her around in a wide arc, her feet lifting from the ground. "Oh, my god. You're taller than me now!"

Chloe laughs as he drops her to her feet. "Nobody is taller than you. You're a martian."

His beard twitches as he grins, his bright blue eyes crinkling in the corners exactly like Chloe's do when she's unbearably happy. "Martian Lew!" He glances over Chloe's head at Beca and Stacie, dipping into a quick bow. "At your service, Earthlings!"

People around them chuckle and Beca is struck with the horrifying realization that Chloe might not be the weirdest person in her family. And she's the weirdest person Beca knows, including Stacie-the woman who checks her mail in her lingerie and bursts into song on the subway.

But before Beca can wrap her head around that, Lew is sweeping her into his arms and crushing her. It squeezes an "Oh, shit" out of her and he laughs, the sound echoing in his chest. She knows, because her ear is pressed against it.

"You're Beca!" He lets go and she staggers back into Stacie. "We see you on Ladybug's Instagram all the time. And Stacie!" He grabs her up next. He barely has a few inches on her, but Stacie still pops up on her toes to give him a tight hug.

"Hey, it's been forever," she says, patting his back.

"And…" Lew leans around them, looking back into the airport. "Where is he? She? They?"

"She," Chloe says, laughing. "She's right here." She slips her hand into Beca's and threads their fingers together. Beca really hopes she isn't sweating as hard as she feels like she is.

Lew's eyes light up-full Christmas tree-and he grabs her in yet another hug. Her back pops and she tries very hard but fails to strangle the whimper that slips through her teeth.

"Uncle Lew," Chloe says, voice too warm for what she says next. "You're killing her."

"Oops." He releases and she sucks in a breath. Chloe pats her back softly, grinning. "Sorry. I'm just so happy to see my girl happy." His hand covers almost all of Chloe's shoulder and he shakes it a little, still grinning at Beca. "And if you're why, then I like you, kid."

"Thank you, sir," she says, one hand on her-probably cracked-ribs.

A car honks and Lew jumps, spinning. "Oh, we holdin' up traffic. Come on, ladies. Load up. Gimme those bags. This is Georgia. I'll get jumped if I don't carry your stuff for you."

Lew's truck is a behemoth and Beca has to literally jump to get in. Stacie laughs as she grabs her hips, boosting her up. Chloe climbs into the front seat, chattering away about how their flight was as Lew peppers her with questions. He includes Stacie, asking about her job interning at the studio while she works on her Masters in Criminal Psychology. Even after years of knowing her, that bit of information still sometimes throws Beca for a loop.

"And Beca? What do you do?"

"With what?" She tunes back in, catching Lew's eye in the rearview mirror.

"With your life, kid. Where you work?"

"Oh, uh. With-with Stacie." She jerks a thumb at the woman next to her. "At Residual Heat Recording Studios."

Lew hums along with the radio for a second, some upbeat country song. "Are you an intern too?"

Stacie snorts.

"No, I'm a, uh, producer."

"She's the head producer there," Chloe corrects, turning in her seat to give her a proud smirk. "She's pretty much everyone that works with the music's boss."

"Oooh," Lew whistles appreciatively. "The boss, huh? So you make music? Anything I know?"

Beca slips her finger under one of the leather bands on her other arm, fiddling with it. It always makes her uncomfortable when people ask about her music, even for interviews that she agrees to attend. Chloe usually gives her great pep talks before those. "Um. Maybe… 'I Think I'm Good' by Luke Morgan?"

Lew slams the brakes and the three of them yelp, grabbing for the handles on the ceiling. The truck slides to a stop at the red light and Lew twists in his seat, eyes wide. It's such a Chloe expression that she just blinks in the face of it. "You made that? I love that song!" He turns back to the windshield, head bobbing as he sings in a surprisingly (maybe not surprisingly-he's Chloe's uncle) pleasant voice, "Talk about me like I'm not hereeee… Man, I listen to that all the time. Wait 'til Betty hears this, Ladybug. What else, kid?"

Chloe laughs, swatting his arm. "Give her a break. How is everyone? Did Seth get his license yet?"

"He did not, thankfully. Think I'd be on the road if he did?"

That distracts Lew enough that Beca can breathe again. When Chloe glances back at her, tucking red curls behind her ear, Beca offers a quick, grateful smile. They spend the rest of the ride out of the city with Lew, Chloe, and sometimes Stacie chattering away about the Beales and what they've been up to. Once the buildings disappear and the fields open up, though, Beca perks up.

It's been a long time since she could see this far. Living in L.A., then New York, the horizon wasn't something she thought about very often. Sometimes, when she took the ferry or when she was visiting her clients in their penthouse suites, she'd look out across the bays and the buildings at the lights from the other parts of the city and wish she could see past them. Just for a little while.

Back in Louisiana, the horizon was almost always there. This wide, painted expanse that led to nowhere but everywhere all at once. She'd spent a lot of time looking at it, picturing bright lights and skyscrapers.

She does her best not to jump when Chloe's hand slides onto her knee. She looks away from the horizon and finds Chloe smiling at her from the front seat. She's stolen a pair of sunglasses from the three sets on Lew's visor and the blasting air conditioner blows some curls across her face.

Beca wonders for half a moment if it's fair to be that pretty.

She lifts an eyebrow, glancing at the hand on her knee.

Chloe shrugs, squeezing once. She turns back to her uncle, answering whatever question he'd just asked. Her hand stays on Beca's leg.