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I
Beca doesn’t mind going to parties, especially now that she’s friends with all the Bellas. Parties are fun. She laughs, and talks - and, yes, sings - with all the girls and other a cappella kids. But after awhile, she tends to fizzle out. The amount of energy required to partake in the normal college experience, to be switched ‘on’ for so long, eventually crackles out. When this happens, Beca quietly retreats to chair in the corner and sinks into it. She purposefully becomes part of the scenery, a piece of the backdrop - she’s never been one to vie for the spotlight.
Jesse, on the other hand, is always on. And, when drunk, so are most of the a cappella partygoers. Beca’s content to just watch them, removed from the picture, and allows herself a bit of unguarded hazy happiness while no one notices.
One person always notices, though.
Chloe finds her way to Beca every time this happens, and tonight is no exception. She step-slides over to where Beca’s seated, in exaggerated dance moves, which is of course ridiculous. Beca grins, though, in spite of herself, already preparing for whatever effusive nonsense is going to come out Chloe’s mouth.
Chloe doesn’t say anything, though; she just firmly sets herself down on Beca’s lap and drapes her arms around Beca’s neck. This isn’t startling; Chloe’s the number one perpetrator of people’s personal spaces, whether she’s drunk or not.
“Hi there.” Beca assumes that this lap gesture is Chloe-speak for ‘hi, how are you.’
Chloe grins easily, and leans close to Beca’s face. “I should have fought for you.”
Beca’s smile falters. “What?”
“I should’ve fought for you, when you first joined the Bellas.”
There’s an awkward silence that seems to be affecting Beca only. Chloe’s just smiling at her crookedly, through heavy lids. Beca does only what she can think to - deflect. She takes a deep breath.
“Chloe, if it weren’t for your incredibly bold disregard for people’s privacy when showering, I would never have joined the Bellas. I think you did plenty.”
Chloe laughs, and redistributes her weight. Instinctively, Beca moves her arm to support her.
“No, I didn’t. I knew you were right. And I knew you were it; you had it.”
“If by ‘it’ you mean ‘an attitude,’ then yes - I had it.”
Chloe just grins at her, like a kid playing a guessing game with an obtuse adult. “Nope. I knew you had it. Twice. And I didn’t even know it was you. I picked you twice. Once while you were walking by our booth. I picked you out then. Just by looking at you. And then I picked you out in the bathroom. Just by hearing you. Didn’t even know it was you again. I picked you twice. I knew you were it. I knew it. From Day One. But I didn’t fight for you.” She frowns. “I don’t know why I didn’t do that. I usually do that.”
“Fight for me?” Beca knows this isn’t what Chloe means, but the conversation is taking turns she doesn’t know how to deal with.
“Trust my instincts. Do what feels right.” She furrows her brow.
Beca sighs when the expression doesn’t change and Chloe seems to mentally wander away in drunken thought. “Look, I didn’t need you to fight for me. And, y’know, you didn’t want to upset Aubrey, and she’s your best friend. I get that. I didn’t need that… from you. Plus. Everything turned out fine, all things considered.”
Chloe doesn’t appear to be listening. In fact, her head is turned clear the other direction. Beca follows her eyeline and sees Jesse, trying to breakdance with a drink in hand. Beca stifles a grin at his complete lack of inhibition.
Chloe turns back around, a wicked grin on her face. “So what’s the deal with the Treble clef?”
“I’m… not sure that makes any sense, what you just said.”
“C’mon, what’s the deal?” Chloe kicks one of legs up in glee, jolting the whole chair they’re both sitting in and consequently pulling Beca towards her, by the neck.
“I dunno… he’s nice. I like him. He likes me.”
“You sang a song for him,” Chloe replies flirtatiously. “Was it his…” She leans closer into Beca’s face, her expression shifting to one of utmost seriousness. “...his gentleman jam?”
“Ew, Chloe. Ew. See, I don’t know these things about him, because there’s only one person on this planet who goes around announcing that sort of information.”
“Is she sitting on your lap right now?”
Beca rolls her eyes, and plays along. “Yes, actually.”
Chloe sighs. “She’s delightful.”
Beca shakes her head, grinning. “Yes, she is. Kinda heavy, though.” She tosses in a dramatic wince for good measure, shifting her legs underneath Chloe’s weight.
Chloe feigns outrage, smacking Beca hard on the arm. “Just for that, I’m not leaving. I hope your legs fall asleep.” And then she curls herself up further on Beca’s lap, in an attack gesture of cuddling. She tucks her head into the crook of Beca’s neck, just along her shoulder.
They sit there for a few moments, blending into the scenery, when finally Chloe breaks the silence. “See, I can’t do this when we’re standing because you’re just so tiny.”
This time it’s Beca’s turn to slap her on the arm. But her hand doesn’t fall away; instead, she lets it linger. Before she knows it, she’s got one arm draped over Chloe’s legs and one around her back.
She wouldn’t realize until later that this was Chloe, finally fighting for her, in a different way.
II
Chloe knows that fighting for Beca is not really ‘fighting’ by any definition of the word. She knows that she can’t make a scene with Jesse, or tell any sort of truth to Beca about how she feels. Beca is not built for that. Making any sweeping gesture or statement would probably earn her at least two weeks of silence while Beca undergoes the arduous process of understanding her own feelings, and Chloe doesn’t want it to come to that.
Usually, with anyone else, it’s as easy as dropping a small food item - mostly candy, nothing greasy - down her top and inviting the object of her affection to fish it out. It works well, but the tactic is no good to Chloe now.
So, ‘fighting for Beca,’ is really a matter of taking Beca by the hand and leading her to… well, she’d say her bedroom, but that makes it sound more crass than it is. It’s more about taking Beca’s hand, and one step at a time, leading her to the conclusion: Chloe chooses her. Chloe picked her twice.
Chloe wants to choose her a third time, if Beca will let her. So, she’ll have two weeks of choosing. Two weeks of letting Beca figure out her own emotions without requiring massive amounts of time to herself. Two weeks of Chloe fighting for Beca, officially, for the first time.
And then maybe she’ll put some food down her bra.
---
It’s not that complicated, actually. She just starts inserting herself into Beca’s daily schedule and asks her incessant questions about anything and everything. She texts a lot, random things that don’t always necessitate replies. She comes over to lounge around even when Beca has homework, she brings her food between classes, she tries to be nice to Kimmy Jin to win Beca some much-needed roommate points. She just makes herself present to Beca, seamlessly stitching herself into the pattern of Beca’s daily life.
The whole process gets a lot easier when suddenly Beca doesn’t talk about Jesse so much anymore. It’s not like she ever did in the first place, to any overwhelming degree, but the change is still noticeable. She doesn’t watch movies anymore, again, and so Chloe brings over her first two seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to fill the void. TV’s easier, anyways. It’s shorter, and requires less emotional commitment. (Chloe thinks that, at least, until they reach the train accident episode of Grey’s and she’s pretty sure Beca’s going to murder her for making her watch that. Beca got so angry about sobbing over a TV show that she threw the tissue box at Chloe and then pushed her off the bed.)
She doesn’t ask questions about Jesse, ever, and she knows Beca is grateful for that.
---
Okay, so it takes longer than two weeks. That shouldn’t have been a shock, really.
Chloe’s graduating, now. She’s sticking around for a master’s degree, but she still wants everyone at the ceremony - including Beca. They all sit together, the Bellas and Aubrey’s parents and her own parents, and Chloe’s attention can’t help but wander to them during the long four hours. She gives a tiny wave up to her mom and dad, but Beca’s sitting next to them, and so she waves back as well.
With a grin, Chloe steps across the stage to receive her diploma. The feeling’s made even better when she hears the Bellas whooping for her from fifty rows up.
---
They eat dinner together, some nights. Other days, it’s lunch. Chloe learns that Beca loves Chinese and Thai food, but not sushi or Mexican. She’s a big fan of Italian, but doesn’t really get the concept of barbecue. Chloe likes pretty much everything, so it’s not really an issue.
They eat, and then they walk around outside, if the weather’s nice. Chloe asks her questions, and Beca gamely replies. They wander together, aimlessly in step, shoulders bumping on occasion.
It makes Chloe happy.
She walks Beca to her door, or to her car, every evening they’re out. The first time she does it, Beca insists she doesn’t have to, but Chloe insists harder that she does and so of course that wins out. Beca never insists again, just lets Chloe match her strides and deposit her safely into her dorm. Or vehicle.
Chloe tries not to linger with expectation at exits and doors, but sometimes she forgets herself. Some evenings there’s an awkward exchange of smiles and pleasantries to fill this pause in the proceedings, but Chloe doesn’t really care. Sometimes she gets bold and presses a deliberately sloppy kiss to Beca’s cheek before parting, just to rile her up a little. She secretly thinks Beca might like the attention, and since Chloe’s leaving anyways, it gives Beca built-in time to emotionally decompress on her own. It’s a good plan.
But eventually Chloe just winds up following Beca inside on most nights, in mid-conversation; no goodbye necessary. Beca holds the door open for her, and Chloe follows through.
---
They never spend time at Chloe’s. In fact, Chloe never even suggests it. She just invites herself over, into Beca’s comfort zone, and is never asked to leave. At first she makes sure to take everything with her when she departs, but after awhile she begins to leave behind her dinner leftovers, the odd piece of jewelry, and her favorite plaid jacket. They eventually begin to collect at Beca’s, settling into the scenery. (Except for the food. The food gets eaten. Or thrown out by Kimmy Jin.)
One day, heeding an SOS text, she brings Beca a coffee while she’s studying in the library. It’s unnaturally freezing in the campus library, so it shouldn’t make Chloe feel any more than a simple understanding of logic, but - it doesn’t change the fact that Beca’s sitting with a mountain of textbooks, and wearing Chloe’s favorite plaid jacket.
She approaches, of course, with a grin. Beca looks up at her, relief sliding instantly over her face. “Oh, thank god you’re here.”
“Your coffee, your majesty. Lots of milk and sugar.” She slides it across the table.
Beca grabs it with both hands, rambling a long string of gratitudes at the gesture. Then she reaches for her bag, plucks a book from it, and hands it up to Chloe. “I found that book you wanted, by the way.”
“Ooooooh.” Chloe grabs it, flipping it over to its cover. Case Studies in Music Therapy.
Suddenly, she feels something bumping against her leg. Beca’s nudging the chair across from her, pushing it out from against the table so Chloe can sit. She’s not even looking; she’s clutching her coffee cup like it’s a life source, and looking over her textbooks.
Chloe smiles, sits, and begins to leaf through her book. Beca puts her headphones back on.
After a few minutes, she puts her feet up on Beca’s lap.
Beca doesn’t even react.
Chloe grins, and keeps reading.
---
“Are you sure you don’t want your desk?”
Chloe’s sitting in front of Beca’s powered-down laptop, flipping vaguely through a magazine, her feet propped up on the desk. It’s Sunday, a lazy day for Chloe. Always has been, always will be. But Beca’s doing homework, stomach-down on the bed, reading a book and making notes in a notebook. It honestly doesn’t look all that comfortable.
“No, you’re fine. I can work like this.”
“If you say so.” Chloe drums her fingers absentmindedly against the desk, the blank laptop screen staring at her. Then, an idea flits through her brain and out her mouth before she can give it any pause for thought.
“Beca,” she begins.
“Mm?”
“Can I listen to your music?”
Beca looks up. “You mean, like, my iTunes playlist?”
Chloe shakes her head. “No, your music. Your mixes.”
Beca tilts her head, thinking. Chloe inwardly rolls her eyes at this hesitation. There was absolutely no reason to be guarded against Chloe doing, well, anything to her, least of all listening to her music. Music was their shared space, their common ground, their passion. Music is how they met, and music is how they connected.
It’s at this thought that Chloe thinks maybe that’s why Beca’s hesitating. But she pushes forward.
“I mean, I won’t if you don’t want me to. But there’s really only one possible outcome for this exercise, and that is that I will love them all and tell you just how much.”
Beca smiles wryly. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Even so, she lifts herself up off her bed, presents Chloe with her set of headphones, and opens up a folder on her computer. Chloe’s eyes scan to the screen: there are 151 music files. She grins, and plugs in the headphone jack.
“Any recommendations?”
Beca snorts as she flops back down onto her bed. “You can just explore.”
Chloe flashes her a huge smile before settling in and pressing play on remix #49.
---
#14 is her favorite: a mashup of Beyoncé’s “Suga Mama” with Mariah Carey’s “Fantasy,” with elements of Kanye West’s “I Wonder” laced throughout. But a mix of Rilo Kiley’s “Portions for Foxes” and Modern English’s “I Melt With You,” although a bit more basic, is a close second.
And there are three different “Titanium” mixes she can’t decide between, so those don’t count.
---
It becomes a routine, Chloe listening to Beca’s music while Beca works on homework. At this point, Chloe almost forgets her original goal in all this hanging out, and starts to focus more on getting through the 151 mixes and picking favorites to discuss with Beca.
But showering her with praise doesn’t really work for Beca. So instead, Chloe begins to play a game with her: she names two songs - any two songs - and Beca agreeably sketches out a mashup. Sometimes, she does insanely more than necessary, and Chloe finds the list of 151 growing longer and longer as she inadvertently adds more to the roster. Beca works on them quickly, but they still sound amazing as hell - produced perfectly, threaded together with hardly a frayed edge.
Other times, when Chloe names two songs, Beca will just say gimme a minute, and Chloe can see the cogs turning in her head, the smile playing along her lips, the beats and counts sounding out as she works on it. Then, she’ll grin at Chloe with a slight nod. Which Chloe knows is a cue to start singing, and before she knows it, Beca’s worked in the second melody, or a backbeat, or a harmony. After this discovery, Beca starts saving up for a looping machine, so that between the two of them, they can create a filled-out a cappella song on their own.
It starts to feel like, even though Chloe isn’t a part of the Bellas anymore, she has a chance to always be a part of something. There’s a Beca-and-Chloe she can be a part of, and music is their shared space, their common ground, their passion.
---
Of course, they share their passion differently. Chloe tends to experience love in explosions and sustained aftershocks, a sturdy foundation constantly shifting and realigning, but never really withdrawing. Beca, however, loves internally, like a pressurized can of whipped cream.
The thought is incredibly endearing to Chloe. Because no matter how bottled-up and flammable Beca’s feelings, they will always seem to be, to Chloe, easily dispensed and deliciously sweet if you just know how to work with the container. And it’s so worth it, once you figure it out.
Especially if it involves sex. That’s probably just regular and not metaphorical whipped cream, but Chloe figures the same goes for Beca’s feelings, too.
---
Summer officially arrives, and this means that the time usually spent in Beca’s dorm is now laid out on the green at Barden. Chloe refuses to stay indoors when there’s sunshine to be had, and she insists it’s good for Beca too. Vitamin D, and all that. It’ll keep her cheery. (Beca snorts every time Chloe tells her that.)
So, every Sunday is now spent in some part on a grass-stained sheet, side-by-side, doing homework, or listening to music, or reading. Today, Chloe’s thumbing through her music therapy book, and Beca’s simply staring up at the passing clouds.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Chloe puts her book down and sits up, crossing her legs. “Fire away.”
Beca almost smiles, but keeps going. She doesn’t move from her reclined position, hands folded over her stomach.
“What made you decide on music therapy?”
Chloe swallows, and nods. “I have a nephew. He’s always had… special needs, I guess you could say. He’s really prone to anxiety, and depression, and… music helped him.”
“You helped him,” Beca corrects.
Chloe shrugs. “Yeah, I guess so. Yeah. So I figure it’s kind of perfect for me. I get to help kids, and use music, and really experience what it can do, y’know? How it can change people. Make them better. Make them... happier. I want to be a part of that.”
Beca smiles lopsidedly at her. “It is kind of perfect for you. You’re kind of perfect for it,” she finishes clumsily.
Chloe smiles. “Thanks.”
“So just kids? No old people or anything?”
Chloe chews on her lip. “Probably just kids. Sick old people make me sad.”
“But sick kids don’t?” Beca laughs. A light breeze flits over the lawn, lifting the stillness.
“I dunno. When I see an old person, all I see is something ending. I can’t get past that. But a little kid? Everything is still a possibility. All elbows and smiles and… hope. It’s irresistible.”
“I’m pretty sure my music would not work for therapy. Although. Making it was kind of therapeutic.” Beca lets out a little chuckle, then sobers.
“Hey.” Chloe clasps her hand over Beca’s, squeezes once, and lets go. “Therapy’s therapy.”
“Mm,” Beca agrees.
Chloe pauses. “Is it my turn to ask you a question?”
Beca looks at her through one squinted eye. “Shoot.”
“Is Beca short for Rebecca?”
Beca just stares at her in amused disbelief. “That’s seriously what you come up with?”
Chloe shrugs. “It’s a completely valid question, one which you are now required to answer, by the way.”
Beca snorts. “Yes. Rebecca. I thought it was way too formal, so I insisted on it being shortened, and that it be differently spelled. Individuality and personal expression, and all that.”
“Wait. You legally changed it?”
Beca nods. “Right after my parents’ divorce. I used their guilt as leverage and got my way."
Chloe’s mouth drops open. “Wicked child!”
Beca shrugs. “If they get to make demands about the assets of the family, then so do I. My asset just happened to be my own name.”
Chloe shakes her head. It’s so ridiculous, and yet so staunchly Beca - not Rebecca, but Beca.
At this point Chloe can’t imagine her being anything else.
---
Of course, the sum total of not two but six weeks of ‘fighting for Beca’ really just amounts to Chloe falling so much more in love with this idiot than she could have ever predicted. She’s not all that surprised, when she thinks about it. She loves the music she’s allowed to listen to, the smiles she receives when she says something expectedly unexpected, how angry Beca gets when she gets her to cry at TV shows, and the laugh she gives when she lets go and simply exists.
She knows she does her fair share of staring. It’s not like Beca talks a whole lot, so usually she can’t even feign interest in what Beca has to say. She doesn’t want to feign interest, anyways. It’s actual interest, if Beca could recognize what that is, and that it’s genuine, and what it could mean for them. The Chloe-and-Beca, their shared space and connection.
So she just looks at Beca, and sees her, just as she always has, and knows that at some point Beca’s going to have to meet her gaze.
---
Except, the thing is, she’s beginning to think her time is up. It’s been seven weeks, now, and Chloe’s positive Beca’s more oblivious than ever. They’re friends, yes. They’re better friends than they’ve ever been, and Chloe takes not-so-secret pride in the fact that she now means something to Beca. She’s no longer the crazy girl who barged in on her naked and made her sing when she didn’t want to. She knows she’s now Chloe, who’s warm and special, and the only person Beca can really talk to about anything - if she wants to. She knows that no matter how many crazy looks Beca gives her, she’s carefully tucked away in the same space where Beca keeps her trust, and affection, and vulnerability. Her name sounds different on Beca’s tongue than anyone else’s, and it triggers little explosions in Chloe’s heart. It’s good. It’s more than enough.
She still tries dropping a Skittle down her shirt, though, as a last-ditch effort. Beca just looks at her askance, the typical you’re-so-weird amused expression scrawled all over her face.
Ah, well. Can’t blame a girl for trying.
---
So she kind of stops trying.
She fought for Beca, on Beca’s terms, and refuses to go further and completely engulf the girl with her own wishes. She gave her piece, is happy how things are - mostly, except for the slightly regrettable not-making-out thing - and she’ll be just fine.
And that’s why it’s kind of a shock that they finally do go further, and that Beca’s the one to take them there.
It happens in a moment of hazy contentment, as they’re sprawled out on Beca’s bed, each of their knees supporting Beca’s laptop between them. They’re watching an episode of Nikita, and as the credits roll, Chloe starts to say something about wishing they could learn fight choreography because wouldn’t that be so cool and Beca could incorporate it into the Bellas performances and also she could take down a mugger if she needed to which would be so badass.
Beca doesn’t respond, but that’s not unusual. Chloe talks anyways. But they fall into silence, and Chloe realizes that Beca has turned her head, and is studying her quietly. Chloe meets her gaze and, just to lighten the mood, gives the satisfied grin of someone who enjoys being appreciated.
“Can I help you?” She teases.
Slowly, Beca moves in multiple directions at once - with one hand, she lifts herself up and repositions her weight; with the other, she pushes the laptop off their legs and nudges it towards the end of the bed. And as she’s doing all this, she leans down, carefully, and presses her lips to Chloe’s.
This is not the first time in Chloe’s life that Beca has surprised her, but this also isn’t exactly like hearing a pint-sized recluse throw down the lyrics to “No Diggity,” or do some adorably underwhelming cup trick for an important audition. This is beyond what Chloe thought was ever going to happen, purely because any kiss between them would have to involve Chloe making the first move. It was practically a scientific fact.
And yet, right now, Beca’s hovering over Chloe, lips inches away from hers, and… hesitating. She lingers there, one eye squinted open, looking down at Chloe, whose head is still trying to catch up with her hormones. It takes a few seconds, after all, to realign your worldview when scientific fact has just been overturned. And also when you’ve just been kissed by that one person that puts stars in your eyes and a song in your heart
Beca pulls back further, just the tiniest fraction, but Chloe’s hand instinctively catches her. She tangles her fingers in her hair, holding her in place, and lifts herself up the rest of the way to Beca’s mouth. If Beca can stake a flag in the ground, Chloe can meet her there. This is her territory already - Chloe is a pro at this, invading others’ personal space and setting up camp like it was hers all along. Chloe makes others comfortably uncomfortable, managing to envelope them without seizing them, to support them without pushing them up. This is what Chloe’s been doing for the past seven weeks, and this is what Chloe will do for the rest of her life.
So she sits up and meets Beca the rest of the way, holding her firmly in place, and communicating as best she can that this is what she’s wanted all along. She doesn’t try to swallow Beca whole; she presses short but sure kisses to her lips, moving along the surface of them as though mapping a careful survey. She feels Beca shift tentatively above her, feels her swinging one leg over her hips and settling across them. She feels Beca’s hands along the curve of her jaw, fingers touching lightly against her pulse point.
Then, as suddenly as it began, it stops. Beca pulls back, to take a breath. But a smile is threatening to emerge at the corners of her mouth, and Chloe feels nothing but joy bursting from her insides. She knows, shamelessly, that there’s a stupidly huge smile radiating from her own face.
“Oh, my god, do you have to smile so big right now? It’s freaking me out,” Beca says, slightly pink in the cheeks. She has on her you’re-so-embarrassing-but-I-love-you half-smile, as she puts a hand to Chloe’s cheek and playfully pushes her face to the side. But Chloe brings her eyes back to Beca’s, and doesn’t even attempt to unscrew her smile.
“I am not going to even begin to apologize for being excited about this,” Chloe replies, leaning back onto her elbows. “I was beginning to think you weren’t ever going to get my subtle hints. You’re not very astute,” she adds.
Beca laughs. “Chloe. Dear, sweet, ridiculous Chloe. It doesn’t even matter if I’m astute. You are about as subtle as a sledgehammer.”
Chloe grins even wider, if that’s possible. “I’m delightful,” she sighs, sitting up again and hooking her hands behind Beca’s knees. She gives a little tug. “And you love that I fought for you.”
Beca brings her hand to Chloe’s face again, but instead of playfully pushing her away, she rests it there - lets it rest there. The half-smile stays, but the you’re-so-embarrassing part of it fades away, and Chloe basks in the glorious warm contentment of Beca’s unguarded sincerity. Then, Beca leans down and recaptures Chloe’s lips with her own, kissing carefully along the smile until it finally relaxes and they can properly make out.
That is, until Chloe speaks again, breathless against Beca’s ear. “There are at least three different mixes of ‘Titanium’ on your computer that you could be playing right now.”
---