On Saturday, Chloe bounces into Beca's room with a wide grin on her face and pounces on the bed. "Wake up, Ferris Bueller," She whispers, "It's our day off!" Beca mumbles something unintelligible and turns over. Then her eyes pop open and she registers Chloe's face, just inches from her own. Then she registers that the redhead is barefoot, fresh-faced and clad only in an oversized T-shirt.
"Jesus," She says, nearly leaping out of the bed. Her heart is already beating way too fast for eight in the morning. "Put on some pants, dude!"
Chloe chuckles. "Speak for yourself," She says breezily, getting up and heading for the door. Beca frowns, looks down and realizes that she too, is dressed in her pajamas, which happens to be equally immodest. She yelps and pulls the covers over herself. Chloe laughs again and disappears from the room. Beca huffs and gets annoyed at the blush spreading across her cheeks because she's so damn easy and she knows it.
...
They're out of the house by nine, fuelled by a cup of Chloe's home-brewed thick dark coffee each and the excitement of going out together for the first time in months. They're both feeling pretty good, brighter and cheerier than usual and that's saying a lot, because Chloe Beale is basically the most enthusiastic person Beca has ever known.
They squeeze into the train along with a whole herd of other commuters and although the extent to which her nose is smushed up against someone's chest (thanks to her height) would give her proximity issues and a serious case of claustrophobia normally, it's almost tolerable today. Because that someone happens to be Chloe, and Beca has to admit that being squashed against the beautiful redhead isn't the worst thing that could happen. Even though she does think that this isn't really what she means when she says she'd like the warmth of Chloe's skin against her own.
"You know the worst thing about being this height?" Beca grumbles.
Chloe laughs. "'This height'? You mean short-height?"
Beca smacks her on the arm and nearly elbows someone else in the stomach while doing so. "The worst thing about being this height," Beca continues, glaring at Chloe, "Besides getting jabs about it even from your best friends – is that your nose is always at the wrong height for smelling anything decent, like fresh air. It's always at the height where people's armpits are."
Chloe guffaws at this. Then she glances around her sheepishly and gets a couple of stares in return from weirded-out strangers who have no idea what there possibly is to laugh about in a crowded, stuffy train. "My armpits smell nice," She says solemnly, as though she were comforting someone at a funeral.
Beca makes a face and laughs when the man beside Chloe (who was, unfortunately, within earshot) gives her a glare as if to say, keep your kinky sex shit to yourself, woman. "So, anyway, what's the plan?" Chloe asks, eyes twinkling. "We do need to know when to get off."
"Well, I got tickets for a show at 8pm," Beca says, referring to Broadway, "We can go check out some museums or something before that."
"Awesome!" Chloe squeals. She begins to gush about MOMA, the National History museum and Central Park and only shuts up when she sees Beca smiling at her. She blinks and pauses. "Sorry," She says, cheeks turning slightly pink.
The expression on Beca's face is gentle. "Dude," She says. "I love how excited you get about things."
Chloe opens her mouth, blinks, and closes it again. Their eyes meet, and there's a brief silence before Chloe smiles and says, "I love how excited you get about things and then try to pretend that you're not excited at all."
Beca rolls her eyes and grins. "I'm never excited. That's so uncool."
"Yeah yeah, whatever," Chloe says. The train jerks to a halt at a station and Beca is flung unceremoniously to her left because she's light and refuses to hold on to a pole. She crashes into Chloe, who reaches out instinctively to steady her. Beca blushes and grumbles something about how even her grandma could drive better. Then she realizes that Chloe's arm is wrapped around her waist protectively and gulps. She takes a couple of steps to her right, back to her original position, and tries not to think about how much she suddenly approves of terribly jerky driving.
...
They reach their stop about fifteen minutes later. They squeeze out of the train – Beca accidentally steps on a couple of toes along the way and earns herself some unfriendly hisses – and make their way out into the open air.
It's already shaping up to be one of those greatly appreciated sunny autumn days where the air is crisp and dry and relatively warm. They walk down the street towards the Museum of Natural History – which they've both decided to start the day with – and Beca subconsciously steps on as many dried red leaves as possible, sometimes surreptitiously hopping or jumping to get to some of the more out-of-the-way ones.
"You haven't changed one bit, Mitchell," Chloe says, shooting Beca a wry smile. "And by that I mean, from your eight-year-old self."
"I told you guys before," Beca says, features scrunching up in a scowl. "I like the sound of dried leaves." Chloe does remember. She remembers way too many things about Beca than is normal, and the only thing that makes her feel sort of okay about this is the fact that Beca remembers an equally strange amount of things about her.
She grins and doesn't reply, but begins to hop around too, helping Beca get all the leaves she can't reach. Passers-by cast them curious glances once in a while, but they do meet a little boy who laughs happily when he sees them and Beca gives him a conspirational wink. He hops off his stroller and joins in, leaping two-legged from leaf to leaf alongside the two of them, shouting and cackling each time he lands. Beca grins and bends down to whisper in his ear. "If you step on a green leaf and it crunches," She says, staring at him solemnly, "You gain superpowers."
He pauses and stares at her wide-eyed. "What kinda superpowers?"
Beca pauses. "You heal things with a touch," Chloe calls out. "And you can turn green. You know, to camouflage and stuff."
"Yeah," Beca says, grinning. "It's a very important superpower 'cause lots of trees and plants are dying."
The boy nods seriously. "Global warming!" He says. "My teacher told me about it." He runs off to tell his mom all about leaves and healing and camouflage. Before they know it, the boy has convinced (or coerced) the poor woman into jumping on leaves as well, and Chloe shoots the middle-aged woman an apologetic look.
"Aw that's alright," She says, waving a hand at the both of them. "You two are really good with kids. I hope you get some of your own one day." She smiles at them. There's a beat. Beca's eyes bug out and she nearly chokes on her own saliva.
"Oh um..." Beca shifts and exchanges glances with Chloe. She doesn't want her to feel uncomfortable with any misplaced assumptions. Chloe only shrugs and grins, as if to say, let the woman have her fun. Beca swallows down her protest and smiles shakily at the woman in return.
When the boy and his mother leave, Chloe waggles her eyebrows at Beca suggestively and shoots her a smirk. "Some of your own one day, eh?"
Beca makes a face and swats at her best friend, who bursts out laughing and doesn't stop teasing her about children until they reach the museum.