They both hate the apartment on sight. And hate is actually putting it very lightly.

The pictures on craigslist hadn't done the apartment any justice. In the pictures, it looked a little worse for wear. In real life, it looks like it has been broken into, except that instead of robbing anything, the burglar had just decided to wreck everything in sight. Large peels of paint from the walls lie on the floor like strange splotches of color. There are cobwebs in every corner and a rancid odor permeates the entire apartment and threatens to clog every pore in Beca's skin for the rest of her life. Worse still, there are no lights (the sole remaining light bulb in the living room is smashed) and the place gives off an eerie air of hauntedness and Beca begins to think that maybe she's right about the dead body.

She exchanges glances with Chloe. There's a long silence. Chloe doesn't say anything, but her eyes are gentle. Beca sighs. She has nowhere else to go, and staying with Chloe can be a temporary thing. She'll spend all her nights looking for another apartment and saving up, and once she finds something that's semi-decent, she can move out. Two weeks, max. Nothing could possibly happen in two weeks.

Beca shakes her head and starts moving her things back into the lift. "Thanks, Chloe."

"You're welcome," Chloe says, as they travel back down to the ground floor. "I actually do have an ad in the classifieds. You know, if you want to read it. And uh, get to know me." She's smiling a little, and Beca laughs.

"Really?"

Chloe nods. They pile the boxes into another cab and make their way to Chloe's apartment. Chloe finds the website on her phone and shows it to Beca, who reads through it, chortling. "'No messy people, perverts, or psychopaths'? I kinda think I'm all three."

Chloe thinks about it for a while. "I think so too."

Beca laughs and smacks her on the arm. She scrolls down and continues reading. "'No loud sounds after 11, no smoking, no drugs, no parties and no noisy sex'?! Chloe, you sound exactly like my grandma. Are you sure you only flunked out of college three times?"

Chloe lets out a strangled sound of outrage and launches herself at Beca, who guffaws and swats her away. By the time she reaches the bottom of the page, she has laughed herself to stitches. The cab comes to a stop and Beca steps out feeling lightheaded. "When you're done laughing at me, you can come over and give me a hand with your stuff," Chloe says huffily, heaving Beca's boxes out of the trunk of the car one by one. Beca laughs and scoots over.

...

Chloe's apartment is clean, neat, and cozy. It's small, but nicely decorated. "Jesus Christ," Beca says, heaving a sigh as she sets the last box down by the door. "This is a sight for sore eyes." Chloe smiles and shows Beca proudly around the house.

"This is the other bedroom," Chloe says, pulling open the door to the room Beca would be sleeping in. "The last person who slept here is Kyle, and we had sex on the bed and on that beanbag, so you might wanna wash the sheets or something. Oh and uh - stay clear of the desk."

Beca's eyes widen in horror. "Ew! Gross! I'm taking your room. Wait-" She pauses and nearly gags. "I bet your room is even worse." Chloe nods solemnly and Beca turns bright red. "Goddamnit, Chloe, if you want flat mates, keep your fornication to one part of the house!" Beca shoots Chloe a murderous glance and realizes that the redhead is cackling with silent laughter. Beca bursts out laughing as well and punches Chloe in the arm. "You ass."

"Okay, I'll let you unpack and settle in. Call me if you need anything." Chloe gives Beca a warm smile and leaves the room, shutting the door behind her. Beca sits at the foot of the bed – gingerly, because she still can't get the image of Kyle and Chloe out of her mind – and rubs her eyes. However temporary it was going to be, she was going to be sleeping, living, cohabiting in the same house as Chloe Beale again; and if that doesn't mark an inescapable return to Chloe's gravitational pull, she doesn't know what does.

A ripple of fear and uncertainty grips her. What was she doing? She was supposed to be moving on, not... moving in. She swallows, collapses on her bed and heaves a sigh of exasperation. A few minutes pass, and before she knows it, she's fallen asleep amongst the soft, clean sheets in her coat and shoes and nothing is unpacked.

There's a knock on the door and Chloe comes in holding a bowl of cookies. She sees Beca, all passed out on her bed with exhaustion, and shakes her head wryly. She sets the bowl down on the table and is about to leave when Beca lets out a soft grumble and gets up. "You brought cookies?"

Chloe rolls her eyes and hands her the bowl. "Only because I thought you were hard at work and needed some form of sustenance."

"I am hard at work," Beca says, sticking a cookie in her mouth.

"Oh really." Chloe's eyes crinkle up in amusement. "Doing what exactly?"

"Just you know, some quality control," Beca waves her hand around vaguely. "Making sure the bed doesn't collapse under my weight or anything."

Chloe chuckles and shakes her head. "You're full of bullshit." She jerks a thumb at the door. "Since you're not doing anything productive, how about we get some wine and celebrate?"

Beca grins and perks up instantly. "Once you're drunk, you're more likely to be persuaded to do my unpacking for me, right?"

"You wish," Chloe says, rolling her eyes. Beca follows her out to the kitchen and watches as she pours out two glasses of red wine. They carry their wine glasses and the bowl of cookies out to the living room. Chloe settles into the couch and stretches out her legs so that they brush against Beca's hips. She raises her glass to Beca. "Cheers," She says.

They clink glasses and drink. "So – any house rules I should know about?" Beca asks, eyes twinkling. They both laugh, remembering the six-page "housing agreement" Chloe had forced every Bella to sign before they'd moved in together.

Chloe thinks about it for a while, before shrugging and shaking her head. "Nah," She says, taking another sip of wine. "I trust you." Her brilliant blue eyes drill right into Beca's, and the brunette feels her heart do a little flip in response. Which is stupid, because she's pretty sure Chloe doesn't mean anything by that statement besides the fact that she trusts that Beca isn't going to steal her shit or break any windows.

Chloe eyes her. "Do you have anything in mind?"

"How about: no barging in on people while they're bathing?" Beca shoots her the little mischievous half-grin that always unsettles Chloe, because it hinted at things they kept bottled in and hidden away. Her breath hitches in her throat, as though she was twenty again, young and foolishly in love with her best friend who was – supposedly – straight and attached. Except she wasn't twenty, or young, or foolish, and her best friend was neither straight nor attached. Messy.

Chloe clears her throat and pushes those thoughts out of her brain. She returns Beca's smirk with one of her own. "C'mon Beca, I think you quite enjoyed that," She says, accompanying the question with her trademark wink.

Beca's ears turn bright red. Chloe bursts out laughing. "Sorry," She says, "C'mere." She reaches out to envelope Beca in a tight hug. Beca softens and sinks into the embrace. Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's Chloe's familiar, intoxicating smell, maybe it's the warmth that's emanating from her body – whatever it is, Beca finds her thoughts running in frenzied circles and there's a strange funny feeling in her chest.

The only coherent thought that comes out of the entire mess is the realization that she just can't bring herself to let this wonderful, amazing woman go. Beca pulls away. "Chloe –I still... I still want you." She takes a shuddering breath. "I want to fight for you like a gross rom-com perv. I – I mean – you were right. I was a fool not to fight for you then, and I'd be a fool not to fight for you now. If that's not cool with you then... Maybe I should leave."

Chloe is quiet a long time.

"Stay," She says finally, voice thick and heady with emotion. Her eyes move to meet Beca's. The smaller woman trembles, but does not look away. The space between them seems to crackle with electricity.

Beca doesn't want to overthink Chloe's response, doesn't want to read too much into the situation, doesn't want to pin her hopes on a vague, amorphous future. Instead, she just shifts and leans backwards so that her head rests against Chloe's shoulder, and savors the moment in all its ambiguous, fragile beauty.

Chloe moves her hips so that they're flush against each other, her arms coiling round Beca's waist protectively. They fall asleep on the couch like that, Beca wondering vaguely if this changes anything between them – or if the morning sun would, as usual, expose the ridiculousness of her drunken late-night dreams.

For the first time in weeks, Chloe hadn't pushed Beca away, and for the first time in years, Beca wasn't running.