Work Text:
Aubrey Posen lifted her silk clad arm and wrapped firmly on the door with her knuckles.
RAP RAP RAP.
Three knocks. Two did not convey a sense of urgency. Four is needy.
Three, that was the happy medium.
Her eyes fell on the decorative wreath hung on the door.
Some kind of grapevine bent into a circle with little silver stars interwoven in it. In the centre a piece of cerulean painted wood with the words “Welcome to our home” painted in cheerful letters mimicking cursive script. The phrase began and ended with small red hearts as punctuation. The whole thing was very twee.
Aubrey frowned. This was going to be a long evening. She could sense it already.
She adjusted her cream silk blouse and straightened her back. Best foot forwards Aubrey, then home to watch Matlock.
Beside her , a voice that sounded sultry even when it wasn’t trying to, said. “Our Home. Cute, very cute. You think the gremlin picked that out?”
Aubrey shot a glare at Stacie who looked nonchalant as she examined her immaculately painted nails. The taller brunette was in a grey wool pencil skirt, and a black blouse unbuttoned two buttons below demure. Aubrey caught a glimpse of something lacy and red when Stacie stretched her hand out to check out her cuticles. Suddenly Matlock was the last thing on her mind.
“Don’t start.” Aubrey said in a voice that made the men in her law firm cower and had zero impact on Stacie Conrad. Apart from making her more flirty. If that was even possible.
“Who me?” The leggy brunette held a hand to her chest as if she’d been mortally insulted.
Aubrey sighed.
Stacie’s innocent look needed work. A lot of work.
Then the door they were standing in front of flew open.
The first clue was Beca’s face.
Stacie noticed it before she noticed the apartment’s high ceilings, the enormous windows, or the fact that Chloe Beale had somehow persuaded Beca Mitchell to live somewhere with a decorative wreath on the door.
Beca opened that door wearing gray sweatpants, a faded Plasmatics t-shirt, and an expression Stacie had never seen on her outside of situations involving exceptionally good headphones. Or the time her reward card at the Barden Bean was accidently stamped twice.
She looked happy.
Not sarcastically pleased. Not smug because someone had been wrong on the internet.
Happy.
Her dark hair was a mess, one sock was slipping off her heel, and there was a small streak of flour on her cheek. But her eyes were shining bright and was there a hint of a skip in her step.
Curious, most curious.
“Well,” Stacie said. “Either you’ve been replaced by a charming woodland creature, or this apartment has excellent water pressure.” Followed up by a lascivious wink that could be seen from space.
Beca’s expression immediately became more familiar.
“And you’ve been here four seconds. New record.”
“Hi, Beca.” Aubrey stepped forward with a bottle of wine and a cream-colored gift bag, all proper etiquette and zero sexual innuendo. “Congratulations on the move.” She looked Beca’s outfit up and down. “Thanks for making the effort”
“Thanks. Come in. Ignore the boxes.” Beca waved them in, taking her hosting duties seriously and completely ignoring Aubrey’s obvious dig.
There were three boxes in the hallway.
One said BOOKS- RUSSIAN & ENGLISH
One said KITCHEN - FRAGILE. CHLOE TO CARRY ONLY
The third said BECA’S WEIRD LITTLE CABLES. DO NOT COMBINE, TOUCH OR UNTANGLE THEY’RE LIKE THAT FOR A REASON.
All labelled in writing that was very different from the usual Mitchell scrawl.
Stacie pointed at it, fighting back a smirk.
“Oooooooooooo how couple-y” Stacie drew out the OOOOO in a way that demonstrated she still had impressive breath control.
“Chloe labeled that, Conrad.” Beca snapped quickly and just a tad defensively.
“I assumed.” Stacie replied, her amusement at Beca’s response evident.
Aubrey just snorted.
From somewhere beyond the hallway, Chloe called, “Baby, did you find the …”
Silence.
Beca went very still. Like if she froze whatever was going to happen next would ignore her and move on to someone else.
Stacie went very interested. She arched one then both immaculately shaped brows.
“…baby carrots?” Chloe finished as she emerged into the hall and saw their guests had arrived. “Baby carrots is what I meant to say.”
She had flushed cheeks and a dish towel over her shoulder, looking like a domestic Aphrodite.
Her red hair was piled into a loose bun, curls escaping around her ears. She wore leggings and an oversized navy sweatshirt with Snoopy on it that Stacie recognized immediately as Beca’s, mostly because Beca had once threatened to eviscerate Amy when she borrowed it and got hummus on it.
“Oh my God, you’re here!” Chloe moved forwards to hug their guests as Beca was trying to explain they took baby carrots very very seriously in this apartment.
Aubrey glanced down at the gift bag she was carrying.
“We brought bread. Sourdough. From that little bakery you posted about last week on Instagram when you went there with Beca. When you posted that carousel of pictures. All of the grump. With her making a face and that you labelled “Carb Cutie”.
Beca coughed.
“Awesome,” Beca said too loudly. “Love bread. Big bread household.”
Chloe hugged Aubrey, then Stacie, enveloping both in the warm smell of rosemary and something baking.
Beca stepped aside to let everyone through.
As Chloe passed her, she brushed the flour off Beca’s cheek with her thumb with a pause for thought.
Beca turned her face into the touch.
Only a little.
Only for a second.
Stacie saw it anyway.
“Oh,” she murmured, her lips making a moue.
“What?” Aubrey asked, not seeing what Stacie was seeing.
“Nothing.” Stacie purred.
Aubrey shot her a warning glance.
Stacie smiled.
This was going to be a most excellent evening, the resident Bella Glamazon decided.
A most excellent evening indeed.
The new apartment occupied the third floor of a brick building on a tree-lined street. It had honey-colored floors, slightly uneven walls, and windows big enough to make the living room feel suspended in daylight. Chloe and Beca had announced they were moving in their own unique ways. Beca with a text of a picture of their old building accompanied with the phrase “We’re outy bitches”. Chloe with carefully curated and handwritten change of address cards.
Chloe had put plants everywhere.
Beca had contributed a turntable, several speakers, and a framed concert poster that was hanging approximately one inch lower than everything else.
On the couch lay a green knitted blanket, two throw pillows, and Beca’s laptop.
One pillow read STAY AWHILE.
Someone had safety pinned a small handwritten addition beneath it.
BUT NOT TOO AWHILE.
Aubrey stopped to read it.
“Beca.” Aubrey almost sounded amused.
“What? Chloe might have done that.”
Beca didn’t sound convinced by herself either.
Chloe laughed from the kitchen.
There were photographs on the shelves: the Bellas at graduation, Chloe and Aubrey in matching winter hats, Stacie making an obscene face beside a horrified Beca.
And, on the mantel, a photograph of Beca and Chloe standing on a beach.
Beca was looking at Chloe.
Chloe was laughing.
Neither was looking at the camera.
Stacie leaned closer.
Beca appeared beside her with almost suspicious speed.
“Want a drink?” Panic was in her voice.
“Sure.” Stacie looked like the cat that had swallowed the canary. Something was up and she had an inkling of what it was. But why spoil the fun this early on? Teasing Beca Mitchell was entertainment second to none.
“Wine? Beer? Water? Something that makes you stand farther away from our - my possessions?” Beca tried to push Stacie away from the pictures she was examining.
“You have no chill”, the taller brunette said.
Beca narrowed her eyes.
“What I meant to say was could I have that chilled?” the taller brunette corrected.
Stacie smiled pleasantly back at Beca’s scowl.
Across the room, Aubrey set her purse on the coffee table and began examining the bookshelves with the restrained satisfaction of a woman who appreciated an alphabetized system. Though she might have a slight disagreement with how Chloe chose to file the “Mac’s” and the “Mc’s” all together instead of separating them out correctly.
Aubrey shook her head. Chloe still had a flighty streak when it came to shelving.
Chloe emerged from the kitchen carrying four glasses of red liquid of a dubious vintage and wearing a huge smile. She loved it when her people were together.
“We finally have room for everyone! The old place was so tiny, and the upstairs neighbor was apparently teaching himself to juggle bowling balls.” She explained to a nodding Aubrey and Stacie.
“He was dropping free weights,” Beca said.
“Every morning at six?” Chloe asked, eyebrow raised.
“He was very committed to being an asshole.” Beca raised an eyebrow in reply with the addition of a small smile.
Chloe handed Beca a glass first.
Their fingers brushed.
Beca’s eyes lifted to Chloe’s face.
Chloe’s smile changed.
That was the second clue.
Stacie knew Chloe’s smiles. Chloe smiled at baristas, dogs, elderly men who held doors, and weather forecasts that promised sunshine. She possessed an extensive and generously distributed smile collection.
This one was different.
Smaller.
Private.
It made Beca forget she was holding a glass.
“Becs,” Chloe said softly.
“Yep.”
“You’re spilling.”
“Right.”
Beca looked down at the wine running over her fingers.
Stacie took her own glass.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Twelve minutes later, Stacie cornered Aubrey beside the hallway bathroom.
“They’re together.” She dropped that bombshell like she was announcing they’d reached their subway stop.
Aubrey looked up from adjusting the guest towel she’d just used, making sure it was Army folded and hanging straight.
“What?” Aubrey was regretting bringing Stacie along. Things always got more confusing whenever she went anywhere with Stacie Conrad. She always found herself getting flustered in a way that was very NOT Aubrey Posen.
“Beca and Chloe.” Stacie’s perfectly outlined lips moved slowly as if she was explaining a new concept to a toddler.
Aubrey nodded. “Yes they live together.”
“Thank you, real estate detective. I mean together together.” Accompanied with an eyeroll.
Aubrey frowned.
“No.” Not in this lifetime.
Stacie folded her arms under her breasts, supporting them in a way that made Aubrey reconsider a lot of things.
“Compelling argument, counselor. You want to take that to court?”
“They would have told us.” Aubrey sounded less sure of herself.
“Would they? Would they though?” Stacie’s eyes drilled into Aubrey’s
“Yes.” Aubrey was loosing confidence in the stance she’d chosen.
“When?” Stacie leaned in closer, close enough that Aubrey got a whiff of her perfume. Musk, of course it would be musk.
“When it happened,” Aubrey whispered, her voice getting breathy. What the hell was wrong with her?
“When exactly did you announce every relationship development in your life, Aubrey Posen?” Stacie smiled like she’s scored a point.
“That’s different.” Flustered, Aubrey tried to back away, but the hallway wall stopped her. She leaned into it for support as her legs felt weak all of a sudden.
“Because it’s you? Aubrey “Do everything by the book” Posen? Some people aren’t as uptight as you. You could do with loosening up. I’ve always thought that.”
Aubrey opened her mouth, considered several responses, and settled on disapproval. Sexy, sexy disapproval.
Stacie leaned back against the facing wall, staring at Aubrey as if she’d just arrived on the planet.
“Chloe called Beca baby.” Stacie continued.
“She was asking about carrots. Baby carrots”
“She stopped for three full seconds to locate a vegetable that made sense.” Stacie paused before making her next point. “ And I don’t know if you noticed but we’re having pasta. No baby carrots involved. Anywhere.”
“Chloe calls everyone baby.” No she doesn’t Aubrey Posen and you know that.
Stacie scoffed. “When was the last time she called you baby….baby?’
Stop looking at her lips, Aubrey.
“Beca leaned into her hand. And you know how touch adverse she is. She once described shaking hands as overly sexual.” Stacie continued.
Aubrey hesitated.
From the kitchen came Chloe’s laughter, followed by Beca saying, “You can’t just add more cheese to every problem.”
“You absolutely can!” Chloe was giggling.
“Your cardiologist is going to have concerns, you derp.”
Aubrey glanced toward the sound.
“They’ve always been affectionate.”
“Chloe has always been affectionate. Beca has always behaved like a grumpy porcupine” Here Stacie did her best porcupine imitation. It shouldn’t have been sexy. Yet somehow it was.
“She’s gotten better.” Aubrey croaked, suddenly concerned about how hot she found porcupines. Did this mean she was one of those….fuzzies? No, furries that was it.
“Apparently. Much, much better. I mean for Beca that was the equivalent of going to third base in front of us,” the taller brunette said with a snort.
Aubrey lowered her voice.
“They’re best friends. That’s all”
“Best friends can have excellent recreational benefits.”
“Stacie.” Stop talking. Stop talking about sex. Please. I’m begging you.
“And feelings. Relax. I’m being emotionally comprehensive.”
Aubrey looked down the hall again.
“No,” she said, less confidently.
Then, “Maybe.”
Then, with renewed determination, “No.”
Stacie grinned.
“Oh, this is going to be fun.”
“We are not interrogating them.”
“Of course not.”
“We are not snooping.”
“Obviously.”
“We are guests in their home.”
“Such lucky guests.”
Aubrey looked directly at her.
“Why are you smiling like that?”
“No reason.”
Chloe insisted on giving them a tour.
That, Stacie thought, was either a bold tactical decision or the act of a woman who had never successfully concealed an emotion in her life.
“This is the bathroom,” Chloe said, opening the door. “We’re going to paint eventually. Beca thinks the yellow looks gross.”
“I said it looked like baby poop but potato, potatoe.” Beca chipped.
A comment which earned her a giggle and a hip bump from the redhead.
Aubrey and Stacie exchanged glances.
There were two toothbrushes in one ceramic cup.
Two sets of skin-care products.
One hairbrush with red strands tangled in the bristles, and another with dark ones.
None of that proved anything.
The tiny black hair tie looped around Chloe’s electric toothbrush was also probably innocent.
Stacie remained professionally open-minded.
“This is my room,” Chloe said, pushing open the next door.
The room was beautiful.
A white duvet lay perfectly smooth across the bed. Two soft blue pillows sat upright against the headboard. Pale blue pyjamas with dachshunds on them were folded neatly and place on one pillow. A vase of dried lavender stood on the dresser, and an unopened cardboard box occupied the corner. Tasteful art on the walls. A desk in one corner, pristine with a chair pushed in and precisely centred. It looked like a stock shot of bedroom.
The carpet had fresh vacuum lines.
Stacie looked at the bed.
Then at Chloe.
Then at the bed again.
“It’s lovely.” She said in a tone that showed she was making a judgement
“Thank you!” Chloe chirped.
“Very tidy.”
“I finally finished unpacking.”
Beca, behind them, made a sound that might have been a cough.
Stacie wandered toward the bedside table.
It held a lamp, a small decorative dish, and nothing else.
No phone charger.
No water glass.
No book.
Chloe always had a book beside her bed. She read three pages at a time, forgot what had happened, and reread those same three pages again. Beca teased her about having literary ADHD. It was another one of their things.
Aubrey noticed the empty table too.
Stacie could tell by the minute tightening around her mouth.
“And you’re sleeping well?” Aubrey asked.
Chloe’s smile flickered.
“Oh, yes.”
“Here?”
Beca coughed again.
Chloe turned with a look of concern on her face
“Do you need water?” she asked as she gently touched Beca’s arm.
“Nope. Just air. Went down weird.”
Stacie examined the dresser.
There was a candle on it.
The wick had never been lit.
Chloe lit candles during power outages, baths, happy days, sad days and Tuesdays.
Interesting.
“This gets such lovely morning light,” Aubrey said.
“It does,” Chloe agreed.
“Does that wake you up?”
“Sometimes,” Beca said.
Everyone looked at her.
Beca blinked.
“Because. Across the hall. Light travels.”
Stacie’s lips pressed together.
Aubrey nodded with the grave composure of someone accepting testimony she fully intended to challenge later.
“Yes,” she said. “It does.”
They trooped across the hall.
“And this is Beca’s room.”
Chloe opened the door.
Beca’s room looked lived in.
Very lived in.
The bed was unmade, the charcoal duvet kicked into a soft mound near the foot. A pair of headphones sat on a chair beside a folded pink cardigan. The dresser held Beca’s watch, Chloe’s perfume, three bobby pins, and a framed photograph of both of them at a street fair.
On the left bedside table stood a glass of water, a charging cable, and Beca’s battered notebook.
On the right stood a glass of water, a charging cable, a tube of Chloe’s hand cream, and a paperback with a floral bookmark sticking out of it.
Stacie looked at Aubrey.
Aubrey looked at the hand cream.
Then she looked at Beca.
“Chloe’s things are in here.” Aubrey sounded bewildered.
“Yeah,” Beca said. “She spreads.”
Chloe elbowed her.
“Not like that,” Beca added immediately.
Stacie had to turn toward the window.
Aubrey’s eyebrows climbed.
“I mean her stuff,” Beca said. “Her stuff spreads. Across surfaces. It’s a known phenomenon.”
“My hand cream is in here because the radiator makes this room dry,” Chloe said brightly.
“Do you spend a lot of time in here?” Aubrey asked.
“We watch movies.”
“I bet you do” muttered Stacie.
“On the bed?” Aubrey ignored Stacie’s editorial input.
Beca pointed at the wall where a flat screen was hung. Slightly crookedly.
“Television.”
“There’s a television in the living room.” The blonde held Beca’s gaze as she asked her follow up. Her courtroom persona was in full effect now.
“Different television.” Beca’s eyes wandered to the ceiling as she made her rebuttal
“Different how?” Cross examination in full effect.
“This one’s in here.” Beca looked satisfied as if she passed the pop quiz.
Stacie bit the inside of her cheek.
Chloe stepped forward.
“We sometimes like to watch something cozy before bed.”
“Together?” Now Aubrey’s gaze turned on the red head.
“Yes,” Chloe said, then, “Sometimes.” She jutted her chin up defiantly.
Beca nodded.
“Occasionally. Recreationally.”
“Watching television recreationally?,” Aubrey repeated, looking at Beca like she wondered what kind of turnip truck Beca thought she, Aubrey Posen, had fallen off of.
“As opposed to professionally.” Beca said confidently .
Chloe shot her a look. A definite “I love you but shut the fuck up” look.
There was a beat of silence.
Then Stacie saw it.
A pale pink lace bra hung from the arm of the desk chair beneath Beca’s headphones.
It was not Beca’s.
Stacie knew this because Chloe had bought it during a shopping trip three months earlier and spent eleven minutes debating whether pale pink was a practical color.
Beca followed her gaze.
Her expression emptied.
Then she walked over, picked up the bra, and opened a dresser drawer.
“Laundry,” she said.
“You do laundry at your desk?” Stacie asked.
“Multitasking.”
Aubrey stared at the drawer.
Beca shut it.
Too late.
There had been a neat stack of Chloe’s underwear beside Beca’s rolled socks.
Chloe abruptly announced, “The noodles!”
She fled.
Beca followed.
Stacie and Aubrey remained in the doorway.
For five seconds, neither spoke.
Then Aubrey said, very quietly, “Well.”
Stacie nodded.
“Light travels.” She said with a grin.
Aubrey rolled her eyes.
Back in the living room, Chloe busied herself arranging crackers on a plate.
Beca stood beside her with the rigid posture of a person trying not to commit any further conversational crimes.
Stacie plopped down on the couch.
Something soft pressed against her hand.
She reached beneath the blanket and withdrew a small black garment.
Beca lunged.
“Sock.” Her voice rose five octaves into the panic zone.
Stacie held it up.
It was not a sock.
It was a pair of black underwear. Very transparent, very thongy underwear.
Stacie looked at them and whistled. “Nice. Agent Provocateur. Spring of This Year. The “Fuck Me Dead” Collection. I believe the tagline was “Designed to Be Taken Off. With Their Teeth”
Beca snatched them from her hand, choking and blushing at the same time.
“Mice. They bring things in from the neighbours. Who are perverts. Sexy perverts. Who are my size. In underwear. And other things.”
Beca shut her mouth quickly like she’d said too much. Which she had.
Stacie couldn’t have smiled any wider.
Aubrey closed her eyes.
Chloe turned the exact color of the sliced tomatoes.
Stacie looked at the couch, then at the underwear disappearing into Beca’s pocket.
“Kinky mice?”
“It’s a thing. A sciency thing. I saw a Netflix special about them. Mice are very sexual beings,” Beca said.
“That’s a thing?” Aubrey asked.
“National Geographic is doing a follow up documentary about…”
Beca gestured vaguely.
“About horny mice and stuff. It’s in my queue. On Netflix. Which I watch. A lot.” Her voice trailed off as three sets of eyes stared at her in expressions that were a mixture of horror and disbelief.
Chloe put down the crackers with a bang on the coffee table.
“Who wants dip?” she said in her most perky tone.
“All of us,” Aubrey said, with the expression of a woman regretting every choice she’d made since entering the apartment.
The third clue … or perhaps the seventeenth, depending on how one classified the underwear … came while Chloe finished dinner.
Beca wandered into the kitchen to get more wine.
Without interrupting her conversation with Aubrey, Chloe lifted one elbow.
Beca ducked beneath it, opened the cupboard, and retrieved the bottle.
Chloe shifted her hips away from the drawer Beca needed.
Beca handed her a spoon before she reached for one.
Chloe tasted the sauce.
Then she held the spoon out behind her.
Beca tasted it too.
“More pepper.”
“You always say that.”
“Because you always need more pepper.”
Chloe bumped her hip against Beca’s.
Beca bumped back.
Stacie watched from the counter.
They had lived together before. They had shared cramped spaces, borrowed clothes, and argued about dishes. Stacie had seen all of that.
But Beca had never used to rest her hand on Chloe’s waist while reaching past her.
And Chloe had never used to close her eyes for a second when she did.
Aubrey saw it.
Her gaze moved to Stacie.
Stacie lifted her eyebrows.
Aubrey took a very deliberate sip of wine.
“Beca,” she said.
Beca looked over.
“Yeah?”
“Are you seeing anyone?” Aubrey Posen didn’t do innocent very well. Her question sounded like the start of yet another cross examination.
The pepper grinder stopped.
Chloe turned toward the stove.
Beca glanced at her.
It was quick.
It was also catastrophic.
“Seeing?” Beca repeated, a bead of sweat appearing on her forehead. “Define seeing. I see lots of people. Everyday. Right now I see you. And I see Stacie…” She jabbed her finger at each person she named. “I even see Chloe. In a purely visual sense of course.”
Aubrey took a longer sip of wine
“Dating.” One word. Delivered dispassionately.
“Oh.” The beads of sweat on Beca’s furrowed brow seemed to be multiplying rapidly.
“Romantically.” The word was spat out.
Falling into her usual “sarcastic when cornered” defence, Beca snapped back. “Thanks, Captain Context.”
Aubrey waited.
Beca put down the grinder.
“I’ve been busy.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“Work’s been crazy.”
“Still not the question.”
Stacie reached for a cracker, her eyes sparkling. Lawyer Aubrey was so damn hot. I wonder what kind of legal briefs she’s wearing.
Beca’s ears had turned pink.
“I’m kind of figuring some stuff out.” Said in a quieter tone.
Chloe’s shoulders softened.
Aubrey noticed that too.
“What sort of stuff?” This question was softer. Almost kind.
“Personal stuff.”
“Anyone we know involved?”
Beca looked directly at Chloe again.
Stacie nearly inhaled her cracker.
Beca turned back.
“In my personal life? You know a lot of people in my personal life. Oodles of them.”
“Beca.”
“Aubrey.”
Chloe rescued her.
“I’m seeing someone.” She blurted out.
Beca’s face swung toward her.
Aubrey sat up straighter.
Stacie lowered the cracker.
“Oh?” Aubrey said.
Chloe stirred the sauce.
“Sort of.”
Beca stared.
“Sort of?”
Chloe looked at her.
A tiny warning passed between them.
Beca recovered.
“Like, what does that mean in modern dating terms? Sociologically.”
Stacie nodded.
“Very sociological household.”
Aubrey ignored her.
“Who?”
“Someone really lovely,” Chloe said.
Beca looked down.
The expression on her face made Stacie’s amusement falter for a moment.
There it was again.
Happiness.
Barely contained.
“Someone who makes me laugh,” Chloe continued. “And listens to me. And makes me feel very safe.”
Beca scratched the side of her neck.
“Sounds tolerable.”
Chloe smiled.
“Mostly.”
Aubrey glanced between them.
“And what do they do?”
“Music,” Chloe said.
Beca knocked over the pepper grinder.
Stacie looked at the ceiling.
Aubrey folded her hands.
“What a coincidence.”
“Lots of people do music,” Beca said, righting the grinder. “Huge industry.”
“Are they talented?”
“Very,” Chloe said.
“Debatable,” Beca muttered.
Aubrey’s eyes sharpened.
“Sorry?”
“I said, relatable. Talent. Relatable topic for musicians.”
Stacie put the cracker down.
She could no longer be trusted with solid food.
Dinner was delicious.
That was unfortunate, because Aubrey kept using pauses between bites to build a case.
“So,” she said, “how did you decide who got which bedroom?”
Beca set down her fork.
“Rock-paper-scissors.”
Chloe said, “The bigger room made sense for Beca’s equipment.”
Aubrey looked between them.
Beca nodded.
“After rock-paper-scissors.”
“Right,” Chloe said.
“Best of three,” Beca added.
Stacie dabbed her mouth with her napkin.
“What happened to your bed, Chlo?”
“What do you mean?”
“The old one. I thought you loved that mattress.”
“Oh. We still have it.”
Beca closed her eyes.
Aubrey looked toward the hall.
“In your room?”
Chloe hesitated.
“In the apartment.”
Stacie smiled sweetly.
“Good place to keep it.”
Beca reached for the bread.
Chloe reached at the same time.
Their hands touched.
Neither moved away.
For a moment, they simply sat there, fingers resting together on the rim of the basket.
Then Beca noticed Aubrey watching and grabbed a slice.
“Carbs.” She said around the whole slice of sourdough she’d shoved in her mouth.
“Yes,” Aubrey said.
Beca took another slice and tore it in two.
Chloe accepted one piece without looking.
Aubrey’s expression became almost wounded.
“You’re sharing bread.”
Beca stared at her.
“That’s where you draw the line?”
“You once told Amy that touching your fries violated your civil liberties.”
“Yeah well, Amy is a greedy bitch. One fry becomes two, becomes a handful and then my plate is fry-less. It’s a slippery slope with her and fries. I can’t let that go unchallenged. Fries are a constitutional right”
“They’re not,” Aubrey said with the certainty of someone who’d graduated at the top of her law class.
Beca pouted. “Well they should be.”
Stacie laughed.
Chloe laughed too, tipping slightly toward Beca.
Beca’s hand slipped beneath the table.
Chloe’s laughter softened.
Aubrey’s gaze dropped.
Stacie didn’t need to look.
She knew exactly what that hand was doing.
Holding another one.
After dinner, Beca insisted on handling the dishes.
“You cooked,” she told Chloe.
“You helped.”
“I ground some pepper.”
“That required upper body strength and twisting.”
“I did feel a possible hint of carpal tunnel there. That could be career impacting, what with my twisting of knobs and such.” Beca grinned.
Chloe smiled and reached up to smooth the hair at Beca’s temple. “Losing the ability to use your fingers properly could impact other areas of your life too.”
Beca stood still beneath her hand, her eyes wide, her pupils dilated.
Chloe’s smile was pure evil now.
Aubrey watched them from the dining table.
This time, she didn’t look suspicious.
She looked thoughtful.
Stacie followed her gaze.
There was no performance in it. Chloe wasn’t looking toward their guests, trying to prove how close they were. Beca wasn’t making a joke to explain away the touch.
For a few seconds, they forgot anyone else was there.
Then the dishwasher beeped and Beca said, “Our robot child demands tribute.”
Chloe let her hand fall.
The moment ended.
But Aubrey had seen it.
While their hosts debated whether the dishwasher could accommodate a pasta pot and a sauce pot simultaneously, Stacie and Aubrey reconvened beside the bookshelves.
“Well?” Stacie whispered.
Aubrey glanced toward the kitchen.
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
Stacie’s grin widened.
“Please use a full sentence. I’ve earned it.”
“They are probably together.”
“Probably?”
“Almost certainly.”
“Bree, we found a bra in the command center.”
“We should give them the opportunity to tell us.”
“We’ve given them approximately forty opportunities. Beca has personally driven into thirty-seven of them.”
Aubrey rubbed her forehead.
“I don’t understand why they’re being secretive.”
Stacie’s smile faded a little.
“Maybe they’re nervous.”
“About us?”
“About saying it out loud. About having people look at them differently.”
Aubrey looked back toward the kitchen.
Chloe was drying a glass.
Beca said something quiet.
Chloe’s expression softened so completely that Aubrey felt an unexpected ache in her chest.
“Oh,” she said.
Stacie looked at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
But it wasn’t nothing.
Aubrey had spent years watching Chloe make excuses to linger beside Beca. Watching Beca pretend not to notice while always leaving room for her.
She had seen Chloe get hurt without admitting why.
She had seen Beca grow irritable whenever Chloe went on a date, then insist she was concerned about her getting home safely.
For years, Aubrey had assumed that if those feelings ever became anything real, the news would arrive with fireworks.
Chloe would call crying.
Beca would send a deeply inadequate text.
There would be a crisis, a celebration, possibly both.
She had never imagined this.
A shared slice of bread.
A hand at a waist.
Two water glasses beside a rumpled bed.
Stacie nudged her gently.
“You okay?”
“Yes,” Aubrey said.
Then, with a small smile, “I think so.”
They moved to the couch for dessert.
Chloe had made lemon cake because Aubrey loved lemon cake.
Beca had bought ice cream because, according to her, cake without ice cream was “a war crime.”
Chloe sat beside Beca.
Not unusually close.
Until Beca lifted her arm along the back of the couch and Chloe settled beneath it with the easy precision of a movement repeated many times.
Beca’s fingers brushed Chloe’s shoulder.
Chloe tucked her feet under herself.
Aubrey stared at them.
Stacie stared at them.
Beca looked up.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Aubrey said.
Beca looked down at Chloe.
Then at her arm.
Slowly, she began withdrawing it.
Chloe caught her wrist.
It was a tiny movement.
A plea, perhaps.
Or simply a refusal to spend another hour pretending.
Beca stopped.
Stacie decided they had all suffered enough.
She set down her fork. Squared her shoulders. And looked right at them.
“So. You two are fucking, aren’t you?”
Beca’s wine went everywhere.
Chloe’s water followed.
Aubrey jerked backward as twin sprays crossed the coffee table.
“Stacie!”
“What? We were going to be here until Christmas.”
Beca coughed into her elbow.
Chloe pressed a napkin to her mouth, eyes enormous.
“You can’t just…” Beca wheezed.
“I can. I just did.”
“During beverages?”
“That was poor timing. I’ll own that.”
Aubrey handed Chloe another napkin, then glared at Stacie.
Stacie remained serenely unrepentant.
Beca set down her wine.
Chloe set down her water.
For a moment, the apartment was very quiet.
Then Chloe looked at Beca.
Beca looked at Chloe.
Neither seemed to know who was supposed to speak first.
Finally, Beca said, “It’s not just that.”
The words came out quietly.
Stacie’s expression changed.
Aubrey went still.
Chloe’s eyes filled almost instantly.
“Oh, Becs.”
Beca rubbed her thumb over Chloe’s wrist.
“I mean. Yes. To your wildly inappropriate question.”
“Noted,” Stacie said gently.
“But it’s not…”
Beca stopped, took a breath, and stared at their joined hands.
“We’re together. Finally”
Chloe nodded.
“Together together.”
Stacie smiled.
“There it is.”
“And I love her,” Beca said.
She said it like she was putting something precious on the table and hoping no one knocked it over.
Chloe turned toward her fully.
“I love you too.”
Beca’s mouth softened.
“Yeah. I know.”
Then she glanced at their friends.
“We finally had the conversation.”
“Several conversations,” Chloe added.
“One conversation. Several sequels.”
Chloe laughed through the tears gathering in her lashes.
Aubrey put her napkin down.
“How long?”
“Five weeks,” Chloe said.
“Six,” Beca said.
Chloe blinked.
“Beca.”
“The night you kissed me was six weeks ago.”
“But we didn’t actually talk until the next morning.”
“I was pretty clear on my position that night.”
Chloe’s cheeks pinked.
Stacie raised one finger.
“For the record, I would love…”
“No,” Aubrey and Beca said together.
Stacie lowered her finger.
“Hostile environment.”
Aubrey leaned forward.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
Beca looked at Chloe.
Chloe took a slow breath.
“We wanted a little time.”
“Was something wrong?”
“No,” Chloe said immediately.
Beca shook her head.
“No. That was kind of the problem.”
Aubrey frowned.
Beca traced a seam on the couch cushion with her free hand.
“It was good. Really good. And I kept waiting to mess it up by thinking too hard.”
Chloe squeezed her fingers.
“So we decided we didn’t have to make an announcement right away,” Chloe said. “We could just be together.”
“And move,” Beca added. “Which, for the record, remains the worst possible activity to combine with discovering you have emotions.”
“You cried over the kitchen cabinets,” Chloe reminded her.
“They were the right height.”
“You said, ‘We could live here for years.’”
Beca stared at the carpet.
Stacie felt something warm unfurl behind her ribs.
“Oh, honey.”
“Do not honey me.”
“Too late.”
Aubrey’s voice was soft.
“And the second bedroom?”
Beca glanced toward the hallway.
“We thought we should have options.”
Chloe nodded.
“In case one of us needed space.”
“Or if it got weird,” Beca said.
Aubrey looked at them sitting curled together beneath the green blanket.
“Has it?”
Beca shook her head.
“No. It’s gotten better”
Chloe smiled.
“We keep choosing the same room.”
“And,” Beca added, “apparently leaving a forensic trail.”
Stacie nodded solemnly.
“A rich and varied one.”
Chloe covered her face.
“How bad?”
Aubrey began counting on her fingers.
“The unused bed. The book beside Beca’s bed. Your perfume. The clothes in her dresser.”
“The bra,” Stacie added.
Beca groaned.
“The underwear in the couch.”
“That was one time.”
“The pet name.”
“Baby carrots are real.”
“The pepper-grinder incident.”
Chloe lowered her hands.
Beca looked at her.
“You said music.”
“Because you do music!”
“You could have lied.”
“I panicked.”
“You’re terrible at crime.” Beca said, looking at Chloe with adoration.
Chloe laughed.
Stacie leaned back against the armchair.
“And mostly, the way you look at each other.”
Beca stopped smiling.
Chloe did too.
Aubrey nodded.
“That was the part that mattered.”
For a moment, no one spoke.
Outside, a bus sighed at the curb. Somewhere downstairs, a door closed. The apartment had grown golden with the last of the afternoon light.
Aubrey looked at Chloe.
“Are you happy?”
Chloe’s answer was immediate.
“Yes.”
Aubrey turned to Beca.
Beca swallowed.
“Yeah.” Then. “Insanely happy.”
Not a joke.
Not a shrug.
Just yes, in Beca’s own voice.
Aubrey’s mouth trembled.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
She stood.
Chloe stood too, almost instinctively, and Aubrey pulled her into a hug.
“You could have told me,” she murmured.
“I know.”
“I would have been happy for you.”
“I know.”
Aubrey hugged her tighter.
“I’m very happy for you.”
Chloe made a small, watery sound against her shoulder.
Beca watched them with an expression of helpless tenderness.
Stacie stood and held out her arms.
Beca eyed her.
“Is there an alternative?”
“No.”
“Handshake?”
“No.”
“Written acknowledgment?”
Stacie hugged her.
Beca resisted for approximately half a second before wrapping her arms around Stacie’s waist.
“There she is,” Stacie murmured.
“Don’t make it weird.”
“I’m trying very hard.”
“You never try very hard.”
“True.”
When Aubrey released Chloe, she turned to Beca.
Beca straightened nervously.
“I feel like there’s going to be a speech.”
“There isn’t.”
“That seems unlikely.”
Aubrey hugged her too.
Beca’s face disappeared against her shoulder.
“Take care of each other,” Aubrey said.
Beca’s hands tightened briefly at her back.
“We are.”
Afterward, Stacie demanded a properly celebratory photograph.
Beca objected on the grounds that she had wine on her shirt and her face felt grumpy.
Chloe overruled her by kissing her cheek.
Beca immediately forgot the objection.
“Oh, that’s disgusting,” Stacie said fondly.
“You literally requested this,” Beca replied.
Aubrey gathered their empty glasses while Stacie positioned them on the couch.
“Closer.”
“We are touching.”
“Emotionally, Mitchell.”
Chloe laughed and leaned into Beca.
Beca’s arm settled around her waist.
This time, she didn’t withdraw it.
Stacie took the picture.
On the screen, Chloe was smiling at the camera.
Beca was looking at Chloe.
Stacie didn’t ask for another.
By the time Aubrey and Stacie put on their coats, the light beyond the windows had turned blue.
Chloe packed leftover cake into a container for Aubrey. Beca found Stacie’s missing scarf beneath a chair and Stacie made a joke about her trying to steal if because “it was just perfect for tying up naughty gingers. Soft yet strong.” Beca hit her on the arm. Just hard enough.
At the door, Aubrey hugged Chloe once more.
“Call me tomorrow.”
“I will.”
“Properly.”
Chloe smiled.
“Properly.”
Stacie hugged them both, then glanced down the hall.
“So should I stop referring to that room as Chloe’s room?”
Beca crossed her arms.
“You can refer to it as the room you sleep in when you visit.”
Stacie’s smile softened.
“Oh.”
Chloe leaned against Beca’s shoulder.
“If you want.”
“Of course I want.”
Aubrey picked up the cake.
“And next time, perhaps put away your underwear before company.”
Beca nodded.
“Honestly, the biggest lesson today.”
“Second biggest,” Chloe said.
Beca glanced up at her.
Chloe brushed her fingers against the back of Beca’s hand.
“We don’t have to hide.”
Beca’s expression changed.
Then she threaded their fingers together.
“No,” she said. “We don’t.”
Jackets on, the two guests go ready to leave. Stacie slipped her arm through Aubrey’s. The blonde’s face showed surprise for a moment and then she tightened her grip as they left.
When the door closed, the apartment became quiet.
Beca stood looking at it for a moment.
Then she leaned her forehead against the wood.
“Well. That went horrifyingly well.”
Behind her, Chloe laughed.
Beca turned.
Chloe stood in the hallway wearing Beca’s sweatshirt, her cheeks still pink, her eyes bright.
Their apartment stretched behind her: warm lamps, abandoned dessert plates, crooked concert poster, two bedrooms.
One almost untouched.
One full of them.
“You okay?” Chloe asked.
Beca nodded.
Then she held out her hand.
Chloe took it and stepped close.
“I think Aubrey cried on me,” Beca said.
“She did.”
“I’m to have to talk to my therapist about that.”
Chloe slipped her arms around Beca’s shoulders.
“Probably.”
Beca rested her hands at Chloe’s waist.
For a few seconds, they just stood there.
Then Beca said, “You told them I make you feel safe.”
Chloe’s smile softened.
“You do.”
“I didn’t know you were going to say that.”
“I didn’t know you were going to tell them you love me.”
Beca looked down between them.
“Seemed relevant.”
“Extremely relevant.”
Chloe touched her cheek.
Beca turned into her palm without hesitation.
There was no one to catch it this time.
And nothing to catch her at.
“I liked hearing you say it,” Chloe whispered.
Beca’s eyes lifted.
“I love you.”
Chloe’s breath caught, just as it still did every time.
Beca smiled a little.
“Useful information. For your records.”
“I love you too.”
“I’ve made a note.”
Chloe kissed her.
Softly at first, smiling against her mouth, then again because Beca’s hands drew her closer and because they could.
When they parted, Beca rested her forehead against Chloe’s.
“We should clean up.”
“We should.”
Neither moved.
“The dishwasher robot is going to be disappointed.”
“He’ll survive.”
Beca rubbed her thumb slowly over Chloe’s waist.
“Bed?”
Chloe smiled.
“Which one?”
Beca looked at her, at the familiar freckles, the loose red curl beside her ear, the love she no longer had to pretend was something else.
Then she kissed her once more.
“Ours.”