Prompt: "I will prove you wrong. Just watch."
"Ok, I will TOTES prove you wrong, Beca Mitchell. Just watch!"
"Chloe," Beca sighed, rubbing her hands together against the freezing chill of the wind. "You're drunk. Please... just come back inside? We're freezing our asses off out here."
"No," the redhead replied stubbornly. "You said I can't do it and I know I can, so I'm going to show you."
The brunette pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "This is really dangerous, Chlo."
"Let her do it, Shawshank! We're ready to dial nine-one-one!" Fat Amy yelled from an upstairs window, earning herself a glare from the Bellas co-captain.
"Seriously, Chlo, I'm really scared you'll get hurt."
"Jesus, Becs, relax. You're not my mother." Chloe waggled her eyebrows as she staggered a little to the left. "If you were, I wouldn't use my tongue on your..."
"OKAY," the smaller woman said loudly. "Let's get this show on the road."
Chloe clapped her hands excitedly and then carefully made her way further down the path to find a good spot, wobbling on the blades of her ice skates. Beca had a sudden urge to pray for her safety.
"In case I die, Becs, I just want you to know that I love you."
Dark blue eyes rolled. "I love you too, Weirdo, but you're not going to die, ok?"
The redhead ignored that as she bit her bottom lip in concentration. "Ok... here goes nothing!"
Beca watched in astonishment, eyes round and mouth open as her girlfriend performed a perfect backflip, landing on the blades of her skates with balance worthy of an Olympic ten.
"Holy shit, Chlo," she murmured as Amy and the other Bellas screamed in triumph above them.
Chloe took a few steps toward her girlfriend and then overbalanced, landing on her ass in freezing slush. "I think there's something to the theory of muscle memory," she giggled. "I haven't done that in like ten years."
Beca gave her a hand up and then hugged her. "And let's not do it for another ten, ok, Babe?"
Chloe just grinned. "Yes, Ma'am."