Fluff. We all need it.
Based on the prompt: If you have time can you do the "You're not mature enough to be a parent." - "Try me." prompt. With a small modification!
Chloe stares at the pile of soggy, smelly laundry in the washer in disbelief. She blinks once. Yep. It's definitely been sitting there. For several hours, judging by the crumpled state of their clothes.
That's when the annoyance sets in.
"Beca!" she shouts.
"What?" Beca calls from deeper in the house.
"Did you forget to move the laundry again?!"
The ringing silence she gets in return is all the answer she needs.
After having been married and living together for two years, it's safe to say the honeymoon phase is wearing off.
With a growl, Chloe reaches into the washer and tries to extract the clothes, which cling to each other and the inside of the machine with stubborn tenacity. A whiff of their damp odor wafts into her nose and she cringes; changing her battle tactics, she shoves the clothes back into the washer and slams the door closed so hard it makes the machine rattle. Muttering angrily, she wrenches open the laundry cabinet and, in her haste to find the detergent, knocks over several bottles of various stain removers and carpet cleaners, some of which crash to the floor.
She groans out loud and stoops, collecting each item and shoving it back in the cabinet, knowing the lack of organization will annoy her later but not bothering to care now. She untwists the cap of the detergent and, not paying close enough attention to her task, pours far too much into the measuring cap and spends the next few seconds pouring it back into the bottle. Of course, some trickles down the side of the bottle and leaves a sticky blue mess.
Clicking her tongue in annoyance, Chloe tugs open the machine's soap drawer, pours the detergent into the slot, then slams the drawer closed. Her movements sharp and quick, she screws the cap back onto the detergent untidily, causing even more of the soap to run down the sides of the bottle and onto her hand. With a huff, she wipes the bottle and her hand clean with some tissue and slams the detergent onto its proper shelf so it knows what it's done. Kicking the laundry cabinet door closed, she pounds her hand on the washer's "start" button, whose cheery wash cycle jingle only worsens her temper.
Chloe blows a strand of hair from her eyes.
Is it really that hard to remember to switch clothes over to the dryer in a reasonable amount of time? Or, is it so hard to do the dishes? Or, heaven forbid, put them away? A chore that Beca had neglected all week. Beca's been neglecting lots of household tasks, now that Chloe thinks of it. Vacuuming, bathroom cleaning, studio organizing, meal prep. In fact, Chloe can't recall a single thing Beca actually has helped with recently.
Chloe clenches her jaw. They're supposed to be a team. They're supposed to work together to maintain house and home. They're supposed to slow dance while cooking. They're supposed to throw socks at each other when folding laundry. They're supposed to trade kisses while passing one another in the hall, one armed with a broom and the other pushing a vacuum.
But no. It's been Chloe pulling both of their weights around the house, doing all the chores, while Beca sits behind her laptop mixing and doing who-knows-what, a veritable Beca Show while Chloe slaves away.
And she's had enough.
Gritting her teeth, Chloe barks out, "Beca! Where are you?"
A brief hesitation, then a small sounding, "Studio," comes from Beca's general direction.
Chloe snorts derisively. Of course. She stomps toward the study, moving quickly through their kitchen and dining room and into the hall. The door to the studio room Beca has claimed as her workspace is open a crack already, but Chloe still flings it open. She holds onto the handle so it doesn't ricochet off the wall (the last thing she needs right now is a drywall hole to patch) but it still has the desired effect; Beca stares at her from her desk, eyes wide and startled.
"Chl—"
"Beca, what the hell?"
"I—"
"I had to restart the washer because the clothes you left in there started to mold."
Which isn't strictly true. They just smelled kind of bad. But still, Beca's grimace delivers no small amount of satisfaction.
"I know, I forgot, and—"
"You're forgetting a lot!" Chloe cries, throwing her hands into the air. "Dishes, floors, bathrooms, cooking—"
"Chloe—"
"We need to eat, Beca! Do you want us both to absolutely starve because you forgot to meal prep? I mean Jesus, Beca, I could pass out at work from hunger if I don't have lunch!"
Beca's lips twitch. Chloe feels some of her anger deflate, but rallies quickly.
"And what about the—the floors? If we don't vacuum—allergens! Molds! Dust! Everywhere!" Chloe lists, regaining momentum. "Dirty carpets lead to heart disease, Beca, I read that in the—"
"I'm sorry!" Beca manages, hands raised in a peace offering. "Really. I'm sorry. Work has been crazy lately, and—"
"I work, too!" Chloe declares imperiously, though she knows her regular 9-to-5 hours as a music teacher are less demanding than Beca's often-erratic schedule meeting with rising singers seeking production. "And yet I do everything!" She moves, storming farther into the room to join Beca behind the desk to peer at her laptop. "What could you possibly be working on that's more important than—"
Chloe cuts herself off with a choking noise, unable to believe her eyes. She stares at the laptop screen for a long moment, then looks back at Beca, who grins sheepishly while seeming to shrink into her office chair.
"So, um, I've been thinking—"
"DOGS?" Chloe shouts, pointing an accusing finger at the laptop. "I've been breaking my BACK around OUR house doing YOUR chores because you're too busy looking at pictures of DOGS?"
"Um." Beca says. "It's the Humane site? I've just been thinking, you know, it might be nice to have a dog?"
Chloe sputters wordlessly, despite the tiny part of her that agrees with Beca whole-heartedly. It would be really nice to have a dog. But she's on a warpath, damn it, and she can't stop now. So, she draws herself up to her full height.
Beca's eyes widen still further. "They're so fluffy, Chlo, look."
"You're not mature enough to be a dog parent!" Chloe spits.
Beca's eyebrows draw together and she lifts her chin, defiant. "Oh yeah? Try me!"
The words come out loud and challenging, and for a second, they glare at each other. A small muscle twitches in Beca's cheek, and Chloe has a fleeting thought toward kissing it.
Just like that, most of her anger drains away. She's never managed to stay angry at Beca for long.
"Fine," she huffs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fine. I'll 'try you,'" she says, and notes with satisfaction the sudden uncertainty in Beca's eyes. "Time to go mattress shopping."
Beca's expression turns to one of mingled horror and devastation. They've been talking about purchasing a new mattress since their wedding, having used Chloe's same once since college—which had been purchased secondhand from her cousin before her freshman year. Which was several years ago. It's safe to say the mattress had been solidly worn out for a long time, with actual dips in the spots they usually sleep. It's just that mattress shopping—spending at least a few hours in some stuffy mattress store, trying out the hundreds of options and finding something they both agree on—is such a chore that they've put it off.
Chloe stands triumphant, positive that Beca will drop the dog thing and agree to help more around the house; basically, anything to delay the mattress shopping experience.
However.
To Chloe's surprise, Beca's consternation changes quickly to resolve. She stands from her chair to meet Chloe's eyes and closes her laptop.
"Fine!" Beca says, wearing that smug, closed lipped smile. "Let me get my keys."
It takes them almost twenty minutes to actually get in the car, because Beca is too stubborn to admit she lost her keys and wastes fifteen minutes stalling. Chloe finally digs out her own keys and drives them to the nearest mattress store in silence.
When they arrive at the mattress store, Chloe is relieved to see the parking lot is fairly quiet with few customers. Beca isn't a huge fan of crowds, and the guilt over making her mattress shop on a weekend is already starting to set in a little. If there had been a ton of people there, Chloe would have felt worse about it.
Maybe Beca senses her guilt; her hand smoothes over Chloe's lower back as they enter the store. The small gesture tells Chloe she has nothing to feel bad for, and that Beca's right there with her.
"Good afternoon!" an older, smiling sales associate greets them almost immediately. Chloe's eyes flick to a nametag: Jerry. His easy-going demeanor and welcoming expression bring a smile to Chloe's face.
"Hi!" she greets. "We're looking for a king-sized, please. Can you help us with that?" As she always does with new people, she looks for any telltale flicker behind his eyes at the realization that she and Beca are a couple. Thankfully, nothing in his open expression changes, and a moment later, Beca's hand slips comfortably into hers.
"Definitely," Jerry nods. "Right this way, please."
He leads them to a side room, where dozens of the king-sized mattresses are aligned perfectly, gathered by brand and further organized by mattress quality and specifications. Maybe seeing their overwhelmed expressions, Jerry begins talking them through the advantages and disadvantages of certain brands, as well as the importance of lumbar support, firmness-to-softness ratio, and customizable comfort settings. Beca's eyes glaze over about thirty seconds into his speech, though Chloe catches her occasionally blinking in effort to pay attention.
It really, truly isn't anything against Jerry. It's simply that mattress shopping is horrible.
It's a bit of a relief when Jerry finishes the information overload. "I can see that you have much to consider," he says kindly. "I'll check on some other customers and come back in a few minutes?"
"That'd be great, thank you," Beca says, pulling herself out of whatever loop of music Chloe is positive was running through her mind.
Chloe smiles at Jerry as he returns to the main floor, and then turns to Beca. "Fun, right?"
"Super fun," Beca says. "Very adult. Very mature of us to be here. Purchasing mattresses."
"Mmm."
"King-sized, even," Beca continues. "Upgrade."
"I thought we could at least get a nice one." Chloe walks toward a mattress, sitting on the edge and bouncing a little. "Ooh, Bec, this one is springy!"
"Oh yeah?" Beca asks, wiggling her eyebrows and slowly pacing to Chloe. "That'll be fun…"
Chloe feels the heat rise in her neck as Beca draws closer.
"...for bouncing on!" Beca finishes her sentence, jumping completely onto the mattress and standing on it. Before Chloe can stop her, she jumps on it once, making the whole thing bounce under them both. "See?" Beca asks proudly, looking down at her.
"Get down!" Chloe hisses, even while fighting a smile. "Jerry might be back soon!"
Instead, Beca extends her left hand. "Care to join me, m'Lady?"
It's really the sight of Beca's wedding band that does it. Chloe gives Beca her own left hand, and Beca helps her to her feet so they're both standing on the bed.
"Beautiful," Beca smiles, and it's the easiest thing in the world for Chloe to lean forward and kiss her quickly.
"You're just as beautiful," she says.
"Mmm, very true," Beca agrees with a crooked grin. "We're both stunning. Now, wanna race to the other side of the room?"
"Oh, it is so on," Chloe says, and before Beca can so much as blink, she's jumping from their mattress to the next, bounding along, aiming for the far wall.
"Cheater!" Beca calls out, and then all Chloe can hear is Beca's laughter from behind her and the regular squeaking of bed springs as Beca jumps on the mattresses.
They race, Chloe in the lead, bouncing from mattress to mattress, focused on their end goal. The elation of it fills Chloe, rises in her chest with every jump she takes, and she feels like a child. Beca draws closer, until she keeps pace with Chloe, and then they're not so much racing as they are just keeping near each other. The mattresses are large enough that they can bounce a few times on each before leaping to the next, and by the time Chloe gets close to the finish line, her legs burn with effort.
She arrives on the final mattress barely an instant before Beca does, and the second Beca lands, she wraps her arms around Chloe's waist and falls, taking her down to the soft display bed with her.
They're both laughing and out of breath, and Chloe clings to Beca, who pulls her close, eyes dropping to Chloe's lips, and—
"What on earth do you think you're doing?"
The car ride home is as silent as the ride to the store had been.
Chloe keeps her eyes resolutely on the road, both hands firmly on the wheel. Beside her, Beca stares out the passenger window.
Traffic has gotten heavier, people going out to dinner or to shows to enjoy the weekend. They get stuck at a red light. It's the same one that Chloe swears she always gets stuck at; it definitely has it out for her.
Beca clears her throat softly. "So… he was kinda grumpy, wasn't he?"
The dam breaks and laughter bubbles up from Chloe's chest. Beca starts laughing too, real, rich laughter that only makes Chloe laugh harder. They laugh, and keep laughing, each one setting off the other, and it doesn't subside until Chloe's stomach hurts and her cheeks ache.
"Oh my god," she manages weakly, wiping tears from her eyes as the traffic light turns green and they inch forward with the crowd of cars. "I thought he was going to kill us."
"Nah, Jerry wouldn't do that," Beca says, waving a hand. "He was trying not to laugh the whole time he was banning us from the store."
"He still banned us though!"
"Only because he totally had to," Beca argues. "We still ordered a mattress, so at least we don't have to do that again for a while."
"It was more fun than I thought it would be," Chloe concedes, taking her eyes off the road only for a moment to smile at her wife.
"It was," Beca agrees. "Though, maybe you were right about me not being mature. I'm sorry, Chlo. I'll help more around the house and with everything."
"I'd appreciate that," Chloe sighs happily. "And then, you know, we can talk about being dog parents."
Beca perks up immediately. "Yeah?"
"Totes," Chloe replies easily. "And, maybe, eventually… parent-parents?" she glances over, biting her lip.
Beca is looking at her like she put the stars in the sky. "That would be nice," she says.
"Then it's a deal," Chloe agrees. "Just… no letting the dog on the new bed, okay?"
Beca doesn't answer.
"Bec, I mean it!"
"No promises, Chlo."