Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

New York City in the snow was a wonder to behold, at least Chloe thought so. The sights of the landmarks dusted with white, The Rockefeller Center and the abundance of huge Christmas trees all over the city: all magical and awe-inspiring to the millions of residents. Of course, there was the tourist argument to consider; that being that it was colder than ever promised, as busy as Mardi Gras and everywhere was sold out of just about everything. And still, The Big Apple had become her home and it was natural to love the place she had grown so much in. It was her third holiday season there, still living with Fat Amy, despite her millions in thankfully legitimate money that her mother had hidden from her father.

Only, that year had been one of the busiest and craziest for her and the Bellas. Barely a year ago there had been three of them living in that New York Apartment. Six months ago Beca had moved out to L.A. Four months had gone by since she had last visited them.

It was too long.

Chloe had thought that even with Beca’s newfound fame and recording deal under DJ Khaled’s label, the group wouldn’t split off, and would stay in touch. And for a little while, she had been right. There were a few stretches where the Bellas would lose track of time and forget to message their group chat, the one Chloe always kept an eye on. Everyone still posted to their socials enough that she didn’t have to worry about them, apart from Lilly- Esther, she reminded herself on a near-daily basis. Even after ‘Satan left her body’, the Bellas didn’t have one-hundred percent faith that she was normal. Chloe even still took her phone into the bathroom in case someone texted during her shower. But eventually, they remembered, even meeting back up once.

The trip back from Europe had changed things though.

She and Beca had always been… somewhat affectionate towards each other, even with Beca’s strong aversion to hugs that she eventually relented to. But since flying back to New York, a thick, palpable tension had lingered over the entire group, and between the two of them especially. In that last month, there was no huddling together under a blanket on the flight. There were no stolen glances when the other was feigning sleep. There were no more late-night snuggles on their tiny sofa-bed, no more flour-fights when Chloe took to baking to relieve stress.

And then when Beca had left for L.A, even their teary goodbyes and promises to see each other held a subtle crack that Chloe knew if left unattended, would spell doom for their relationship.

She wasn’t stupid, and far from blind. Chloe had a hunch why her shortest friend was less communicative; she’d been leaving room for Chicago, the suave military man they had met in Spain. Only, Chicago Walp had called Chloe less than Beca had since leaving Europe. It had been a nice three conversations, more than a few arguments about distance and a whole lot of back and forth trips before their flirtatious connection blew into the wind, leaving her craving that intimacy she had felt before. Instead, she was left with only Amy, whose hugs could crush a watermelon and who was most definitely still hung up on Bumper. Suffice it to say, there was no charged eye contact or hammering in Chloe’s chest with her, not like with Chicago, or with Beca. To make it worse, Beca had been radio silent for two weeks leading up to the end of December.

And there was no worse time to be alone than on Christmas.

“Amy, what’re you doing for the holidays again?’” Chloe mumbled through the thick fabric of the cardigan. It’s woolly fibres clung to her shirt, providing a modicum of warmth in the late winter air. Amy sat on the couch next to her, not shivering in the slightest, but her breath had become evident when she spoke. The Australian insisted her larger self could easily warm Chloe up too if they huddled together for warmth like on survival shows. She had retorted that the only situation they were doing that was if they were drafted into the Hunger Games and stuck in a cave. Amy had rolled her eyes; Chloe’s comfort movies were all sappy and sweet at the centre and her own was the John Wick duo. And owing to her rejection of Amy’s offer to get buck naked and wrap herself around Amy in the least sexual way possible, Chloe was suffering from the veritable blizzard outside.

“I told you, Ginge, I’m just going to set up camp outside Bumper’s new place and flash my new stuff around to get him to listen to me.” Amy had been revelling in her new net worth and decided that the place could use sprucing up, even if Chloe had insisted that her money was not something she should be sharing- at least not as much as she had been doing. And yet, even buying herself a new wardrobe, a car that didn’t break down every thirty miles on the dot and paying off both hers and Chloe’s student debt so far (though Chole didn’t know about it until November), she hadn’t made a dent in the lump sum. It seemed she wanted to spread the cash around, including to her ex-boyfriend Bumper, now claiming to be a social media star.

“Right. How is he?”

“He just needs to simmer for a while, then he can have me back,” Amy grinned, holding out her spiked hot chocolate to clink together with Chloe’s regular non-whiskey infused one. She had been unwittingly burned by that particular fusion before.

It was nice having at least someone to be with around the holidays. And although she wished that she had someone special to spend them with, given that her parents had gone to see her brother in New Zealand, she was content to spend enough of the festive season with Amy.

For a while, they sat watching Elf, and sipping their hot cocoa as the blizzard outside raged on. Then they argued over the best Christmas movie for a bit, eventually leading to a light battle with the couch pillows that ended with wide grins and red faces.

“You know,” Amy panted, “for a twig bitch, you’ve got a hell of an arm. Ever considered playing rounders? You could make it big back in the homeland, we had a massive tournament a while back, with those lot in the UK, sheep-shaggers included.” Chloe giggled at Amy’s ever-charming terms of endearment, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what ‘sheep shagging’ was.

“I think the clinic I work at currently has an annual softball tournament. Maybe I could try out next year?”

“You’d be the best with a cannon like that!” Amy chuckled and reached for the bottle of Jack Daniels.

“I think you might have had enough whiskey tonight, Ames.” Chloe placed a finger on the spout of the bottle. For a moment, she stared back in question, and then her eyes lidded shut particularly quickly before she snapped them open again.

“Yeah, okay, you might be right. Whatever, I’m gonna get to bed, only a few sleeps ‘til Santa, you know. You keep thinking about what wish you want from him. Nurse Beale is for sure on the nice list.” Amy got up with a sloppy wink, and trundled shakily over to her bed where she flopped down, thankfully not drunk enough to need adjusting, and fell asleep within a matter of minutes.

Chloe finished her cocoa, draining the cup and bringing both to the kitchen sink. As she looked out of the window at the blanket that had covered most of Manhattan, she heard Amy’s words come back to her.

You keep thinking about what wish you want…

She rolled her eyes. It was a stupid tradition that she, Amy and Beca had come up with over the last three years. But she tried anyway.

“I got my ticket for the long way round…” she began, thinking of exactly what she wanted to show up for Christmas. “Two bottle of whiskey for the way.” There was only one thing that she could honestly say she needed. “And I sure would like some sweet company…” Just one person to see, if wishes had any power. “And I’m leaving tomorrow, what do you say?”

Beca. Her only wish was for Beca.

There was no point in trying to rouse Amy to make her own wish, as was tradition when one of them sang that song. So with careful steps despite Amy’s drunken snoozefest, she pulled the large duvet over her friend and left for the bathroom.

Although she was never one to waste time, Chloe took longer in the shower than usual, her mind flitting back and forth between Christmas and the time gone by, and ultimately, her wish. She’d always been called silly for believing in the power of wishes, even by Beca herself, though there was always a small glint in her eyes as Chloe sang the song. Who would have known that the stupid little internet song would spark such a friendship between all of them, and would change their lives for the better.

Beca often joked that it was actually ‘Titanium’ that had done that, and though Chloe conceded that, the story of barging in on a borderline stranger’s shower was not how she would have put it in her memoir. Thoughts of the Bellas past set aside, she left the bathroom, checked her phone again and threw on her pyjamas. Atop those went the hoodie that had been left when a certain singer vacated the apartment, then pulled the covers up tight.

And she went to sleep, thinking of snow, and pine trees, and singing carols, and Beca. She always came back to Beca.

When the morning came, New York City was a little less white, and more grey, having had the snow gritted and shovelled by some poor underpaid city workers at what must have been the crack of dawn. A chill dripped down Chloe’s spine at the sight of the frosted windows when she left the confines of the small double bed, feet cringing on the cold hardwood beneath.

“Ames?” she whispered, not seeing the usual lump underneath the girl’s bedclothes. “You up?” Chloe gave a start when Amy popped up from behind the kitchen counter and hopped onto a barstool with some painkillers and water in hand.

“Ginger, stop yelling, I’m over here!” Amy groaned. Although the Australian was in some clear discomfort–well, who wouldn’t have been after that much whiskey–Chloe laughed to herself, finding the action strangely warming. She needed warming after sleeping through a blizzard like that.

“Well, good morning,” she said cheerily, raising her voice to a normal level, though clearly still too loud for the hangover banging its way through Amy’s skull. “Have you been up long?”

“Yeah, needed some ibuprofen, so I got the mail too. There’s something here addressed to the both of us, so I thought I’d leave it to you.” Chloe rolled her eyes. The last time that something had been addressed to all occupants of the apartment, it had been a noise complaint about some groaning that the place below them had filed; one of Amy’s boytoys had been over the night before.

“Great.” She pouted, going over to the counter to pour some coffee out for the both of them before seeing the letter on the counter.

That handwriting. The colour. The light touch of a wrist that had been smudged with ink. That could only be from one person, and Chloe maintained that she wasn’t a weirdo for knowing that her best friend had written that.

Beca. Beca had written that.

“AMY!” she squealed, grimacing at the face and finger gesture Amy gave her as she did. “This is from Beca!”

“Hm?” was her response. Chloe rolled her eyes again: a reflex when living with this particular blonde.

Chloe ripped open the top of the envelope, somehow managing a somewhat straight line with her fingernail, trying to preserve what little trace of Beca in the apartment was tangible.

Chloe, Amy,
I hope you guys are doing ok in NYC! I’m sorry it’s been a while, and I know I’ve not been as active on the Bellas chat, so sorry for that too. I’ve been busy with so much stuff at the new label, more songs, more editing and my lyricist is the most procrastinating procrastinator that ever lived LOL.

Chloe decided immediately that she loved the way Beca wrote her letter exactly like a text. It was just so… Beca.

Anyways, I wanted to ask if you two had any plans for after Christmas? I imagine that you’ll probably be spending it with family, but I thought I would offer:
Would you be up for a trip to London, on me? I figured we could do the Hyde Park Winter Wonderland, go sightseeing, museums and stuff?

Her heart skipped a beat. Beca wasn’t just asking to see them, she was asking the Bellas to take an all-expenses paid trip to England with her for the holidays.

I’m in London for some ‘inspiration’ and started my vacation early, so I can meet you all whenever. I accidentally put the wrong starting date down on the booking though, so the tickets are valid from the 23rd until New Years. Here’s hoping I got these mailed on time LOL!

Chloe sniggered to herself, and then thought of what she had just read. Beca was there now, and she could get to spend Christmas with family after all! A wide smile that brought a confused grin out of Amy bloomed over Chloe’s face.

Well, whatever. If you’re busy, don’t worry. If you can come, just let me know directly and I’ll send you the details of my hotel. Hope to see you guys soon,
Beca

Amy finally got the answer to her questioning glare as Chloe put the letter down and out flew two first class tickets to London Heathrow.

“Amy, how do you like tea and scones? Cause I think we’re gonna be eating them for a bit.” She smirked and slid the letter over to the swaying Australian, gently nudging the glass of water out of the way just in case she should faint onto the counter. A moment of silent reading passed by, and Chloe knew she should have plugged her ears when a whoop of delight left Amy, and immediately caused her to buckle, clutching her head.

“Alright, Ginge, we can go, just let me get back to dying.” Chloe chuckled, leaving Amy in peace, knowing that packing would commence as soon as she was able to get some caffeine in her.

“Okay, Ames, I’ll see you in a few days!” Chloe called out, grinning from ear to ear, even under the warm beanie and scarf she had. The woman in question poked her head out from the bathroom door and quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Whoa, whoa! Where you going at this time of year? You’re supposed to hold up the boombox when I go and win Bumper back!” Chloe sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“No, I told you, Amy! I’m going to London early to get rid of my jetlag for when everyone else arrives. Including you!” The blonde opened her mouth to protest, but Chloe held up a finger, feeling rather good about being able to stop Amy in her tracks. “No buts, you’re coming on the 4:30 flight on the 27th and you will be at that hotel by 4pm British time!”

“Alright, alright, Ginge, don’t get your panties in a bunch, that's for…” Chloe didn’t hear the rest, because the shower started to run behind the closed door again. Shaking her head, she pulled the suitcase behind her and made sure the strap of her bag was secured on her shoulder.

She was going to get acquainted with the city, right? She was going early to pitch-slap jetlag and have fun on vacation. Or did they call it a holiday over there? Either way, it was purely for convenience, and the thought of spending some one-on-one time with Beca for the first time in months certainly wasn’t the only thing bubbling in her brain like an unattended pot of water as she entered the Uber she’d called.

The ride to JFK gave Chloe enough time to pull down her scarf and breathe air not marred by the soft knitted wool that was getting damp with every breath she took. And even though she was far from exhausted, having not been to the gym since the day before, her breaths grew ragged and shallow, positively bursting with excitement.

Would Beca have changed much, she wondered. Would the life of a star have agreed with her, or perhaps even agreed with her too much? Chloe knew all the stories of the rockstars and pop artists who lost themselves within the money, the free drinks, the readily available substances. She hoped to God that Beca hadn’t fallen in with the wrong crowd. Soon enough, the thoughts were silenced by a voice in her head that sounded very much like Aubrey.

‘Stop freaking out and just be happy to see her. Plus, it’s only Beca.’

Okay. She didn’t know where that had come from, and it had sounded scarily similar to what her friend would say if she was sat next to Chloe in the back seat of the Uber.

It wasn’t ‘just Beca’ or ‘only Beca’. It was Beca, the smart, talented, hip new artist on the block, and endorsed by DJ Khaled no less! Beca was the tits all over the world now, not just in Georgia, not even just in New York, but all over. She pondered for a second whether she had been able to pull strings to get the Bellas on some of the last first class flights to London, and how she had hinted that the rooms beneath her in the Hotel were all reserved.

But she had to still be Beca. That letter had the other Captain smeared all over it, covered in what made Beca just that, her best friend, her lifeline and perhaps the most infuriating person she had known in a while!

Again, she did not know where the rage had appeared from, and stopped for a moment as she got out of the Uber, almost forgetting her bags. Chloe shook her head of the thoughts and smiled at the friendly man who’d driven her in the cold and the snow two days before Christmas. She would be sure to rate him five stars.

The feel of Christmas was in the air as she entered, checking her surroundings for signs and directions. Her gate was on the other side of JFK, and although she had arrived early, Chloe wanted to get over there before certain parts of her froze for good. At stands all around the airport, there stood Santas of all shapes and sizes, hot cocoa stalls, even stuffed reindeers with NYC beanies on. She smiled from ear to ear, having adjusted the scarf for the indoors, and wandered over to one such stand.

“Shopping for a loved one, miss?” A kind older gentleman asked with a grin that could have rivalled the actual Father Christmas, and for a moment, a jolly image of him in a red and white trimmed outfit flickered in her mind. She blinked and it was gone, but his smile remained as she picked out a cute little reindeer with a hat that reminded Chloe of the blue of Beca’s eyes, deep and somewhat stormy.

“Yeah, just this, please.” She fumbled with her purse for a moment, and fished out fifteen dollars, despite the stuffed animal costing ten. “Oh, what the hell, it’s Christmas. Keep the change, sir.” She handed the money over, and five went in his pocket, the ten going in the charity bucket next to the stall.

“A very Merry Christmas to you, young lady, and I hope she enjoys the fellow as much as I did making him.” The kind smile almost brought Chloe to glassy eyes. And then the realisation hit her just as she was about to return the sentiment.

“You too. Wait,” she stopped, “how did you know…” She chuckled lightly at the man, who was with another customer, but as she walked away, she could swear she heard him as if he was whispering the thing her parents always said around the holidays into her ear.

‘Love and family, miss, that’s Christmas for you.’

Ridding her head of the notion of Santa Claus being in disguise in the middle of JFK, and just a few days before Christmas nonetheless, she wheeled her bag across the place, seeing the steady fall of snow still flutter effortlessly over the runways and landing in people’s hair.

How she loved Christmas, she thought as she cuddled the stuffed reindeer close to her, imagining how elated Beca might be to see it, and hopefully her too.

When the flight finally took off, after the least hassle she’d ever experienced at the airport, Chloe nestled into her window seat to see the ground pull away from them. Just a few more hours until London. Until her vacation could begin and she could be with her other family.

But as the minutes ticked by, and the reindeer stopped holding back the questions, Chloe felt her unease creep back in. There had been no sign to say that she should arrive early to London, no subtle message in the letter. She slid the note back out of her pocket to stare at the signed name at the bottom.

Beca. The name sounded almost strange in her mind, even though her last visit had been just two months before. Perhaps, she felt, it was just the cold, just a short bout of unavoidable doubt that would soon pass.

Or had she scared her best friend away with the intensity that she had talked of their next meeting? Or was it all in her head? Maybe Beca wouldn’t care that Chloe had talked only of the old times, not the new that lay ahead for them all. Worst of all, her thoughts turned to Chicago.

The man had kissed her, and none too chastely, in front of Beca at the final performance of their careers as the Barden Bellas, and her debut as Beca Mitchell, the singer-songwriter. It hadn’t been a bad kiss by any means, but Chloe felt that there was more to it than simple summer love. Had she been wrong, or had it been the final nail in the coffin of their splitting up? And there was no way that her kissing someone else would result in Beca’s unhappiness, right?

No, it couldn’t have been. Beca was fine, Beca was great. She had no problem with Chloe. She would have no problem when Chloe showed up at the hotel a week earlier than expected.

Or would she?

The questions plagued her the whole flight, and it must have been evident enough by her clinging to the reindeer and not sleeping, because even the child on the row opposite had forgone the tradition of whining for its mother, instead intently peering at Chloe for a large majority of the flight.

Wheels touched down and jolted her from her thoughts, and the minute nap she had afforded herself. The reindeer had slipped from her arms a little, so she hugged it to her chest once more, feeling its plush softness penetrate her worries and pop the balloon of doubt in her mind.

Beca was there. Beca was just a short journey away, only an hour if she got her train ticket quick enough. She supposed she was lucky that the train terminal from the airport was so close, and that it happened to be nearing six in the morning. Chloe checked her phone and slid it into her pocket, having heard stories of the thefts in London, then saw the train pulling into the station.

Nearly there.

It was an excruciating fifty minute journey to her stop, but Chloe had enough music to keep her going, and almost all of it was her large Christmas playlist with every known version of every song she could think of.

And then there was her pride and joy. As the train approached her stop, she skipped ahead, bypassing all of the other songs until she got to her favourite. As the train pulled in, she made sure that she had her bags, one safely slung over her shoulder and the suitcase wheeled behind her. Then she pressed play.

Santa, tell me if you’re really there
Don’t make me fall in love again
If he won’t be here next year

Walking down the street and ardently following the directions on her phone, Chloe received odd looks from people as she lip-synced her way to the hotel. She had felt a chill ever since departing the plane back at Heathrow, and although it still made her nose twitch, the energetic walk and happily lip-synced music warmed her through, enough at least to make it to the entrance.

Checking in proved easy enough, although the poor woman at the desk seemed very much to be feeling the time, and yawned at least three times before she finished typing in Chloe’s name into the computer. She did perk up a little when she saw the antler of the reindeer poking out of Chloe’s bag and smiled weakly.

“Gift for someone?”

“Yeah, my… friend.” The word sounded odd in her mouth, like it was a lie she was forced to tell, but if there was a different truth, she hadn’t figured it out yet . She suspected again that the sleep deprivation and cold were getting to her head, because what else was Beca. “She’s staying here too and we’re meeting friends for the Hyde Park Winter Wonderland.” The woman slipped a keycard over the desk with a chuckle.

“First time going?”

“Was it that obvious?” Chloe giggled. “Anything you recommend while I’m there?”

“If you’re going with your beau, make sure you go to an ice sculpting workshop and Le Chalet Fondue, but otherwise, a bit of everything love, can’t hurt to try.” She seemed pensive for a second, then her eyes settled on the blue of the hat on the reindeer’s head, now peeking out of her bag. “Are they here? The person that’s for? Cause that reminds me of a girl I saw last night at the bar.”

Chloe’s heart skipped a beat. Even though she was fully confident that she was in the right place, the fact that Beca was so close felt almost like pulling a wobbly tooth, just waiting to give and feel that release. And a twinge of jealousy came with the longing. Why had some random person remembered her?

But of course she would. Beca was unforgettable. With her thoughts lingering on the blue eyes–the blue cap–all she could do was nod as she took the card and waved goodbye.

“She’s a lucky girl,” the woman said, looking more energised the moment there was no one left to serve. Echoes of the sentiment stuck around, even as she started to unpack, even when she undressed to clamber into bed.

Even when the reindeer became all she could stare at because that hat really reminded her of Beca’s eyes.

As she pulled the sheets over her head, her phone buzzed, but the journey had taken it’s toll and finally, she was able to sleep.

Chloe woke with the slightest twinge of a sneeze escaping her. It still snowed outside, having picked up a little from the few flakes she’d seen on the way into London. Groggily, she stretched and yawned, almost waiting to hear Amy’s telltale groan to tell her to go back to bed.

And although she could have easily slipped the warm and comforting duvet back over herself, there was a special someone to surprise and the suspense would never help.

As she got ready, a thought struck her: Beca was on a different time zone until a few hours before. She would probably have been asleep when Chloe arrived, and would now be running errands, or chatting up some famous musician in the bar dressed in diamonds.

“Pull yourself together, Chloe,” she told the mirror after her shower, which had apparently done little to ease her panic. “Beca is just the same as normal.” She wasn’t sure whether she was asking that, or telling herself it, but either way, the thought persisted as she dressed on the warmer side, despite wanting to explore the hotel first. A glance at her phone gave her the time.

12:47

And it gave her heart a scare too.

Somehow she had avoided checking her phone the entire time she was getting up and ready, but when her hair was drying, a text she hadn’t expected popped up.

Hey Chloe. I know we haven’t talked in a while, but I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. I hope we can still be friends even after the falling out we had.
- Chicago

She almost rolled her eyes at it. The message was kind, at least it didn’t seem to have any undertone or subliminal message in it.

And really, did it matter that he was wishing her well around Christmastime? She was nowhere near him, and about to reunited with her best friend.

Given the light outside, it would be around lunchtime, and she hadn’t eaten since L.A, so with a scarf around her neck and her handbag slung around her, she left the room and started towards the elevator. She was so caught up in her own anxieties that when an older man called out for someone to “Hold the lift”, Chloe nearly didn’t hear him, but pressed the button to delay the doors for him just in time.

“Ah, thank you, darling.” He gave her a large smile, a familiar smile. His white hair matched the beard, and both would be lost amongst the snow outside if he was heading out that way. “Are you here to see family too?” he kindly asked. Chloe nearly scoffed to herself. Surely it couldn’t be the same person.

“Uh,” she thought for a moment, hearing the whirr of the elevator clog her thoughts which should have been so simple. “Yeah, I guess so.” Chloe nodded to herself. “Yeah, definitely. She’s definitely family.” The old man chuckled as he began to weave his scarf around his neck.

“Ah, I know that look. I hope you’re not proposing in the snow, my dear, else the ring might get lost.” She nearly spluttered indignantly.

“Beg your pardon, sir?”

“You’ve got the same look on your face that I had when I proposed to my wife seventy-one years ago tonight. I know the love-struck look when I see it.” A small chime came from the elevator as he readied himself to step out onto a different floor. “Good luck, darling.”

“What the fuck?” Chloe whispered to herself as the doors closed. The man had seemed too familiar for it not to be the same guy at the airport who’d sold her the reindeer plush that still resided in her handbag. But he was in New York, and she’d definitely not seen him on the flight that morning. She spent the next fourteen seconds precisely trying to decipher what had just transpired, until the doors opened to the lobby, thankfully with closed front doors to keep the chill out.

In the corner near the welcome desk, Chloe remembered seeing a table laden with pamphlets and menus for local places to eat and sightsee, so she walked over, forgetting the strange, sweet old man that could not have been in New York and London at the same time that she was, two days in a row.

“Yeah, lunch for one, under Mitchell.”

Chloe’s heart skipped a beat as the dulcet, tired tones of a voice she knew all-too well reached her ears. Turning on a dime, she searched for the source of her reason for being there, and found a head of brown hair and a leather jacket shivering her way into the fancy attached restaurant. For a moment, the world stood still and the snow stopped falling outside. There she was, just a few feet from her, and yet, when she made her way over to the entrance, an arm barred her way.

“I’m afraid there are no more tables, madam, you’ll have to wait, but we can put you on a waiting list if you would like, and we can call your room when there’s a table ready?”

Her heart sank as fast as it had been uplifted but a moment ago. Chloe shook her head.

“I don’t suppose you’d let me go to my friend who just walked in?”

“Sorry, sweetheart, can’t do that. Hotel policy, security issues and all that.” The maître-de or whatever the brits called them stood firm, but gave her an apologetic sigh. “Wish I could help you, but you’ll have to come back another time.” Trying to keep from groaning again, or perhaps even cursing at the guy simply doing his job, Chloe nodded and turned around, going back to her original plan of finding a place to take her stomach so that it didn’t start to devour itself.

It didn’t take Chloe long to decide on a restaurant, but between looking at the menus, and then back to the door of the restaurant every few minutes for a quarter of an hour, it was slow going. Even as she walked in and revelled at the snow on her way to a nice place to eat, she wondered, had she not let that old man on, she may have spotted Beca sooner, may have been able to speak to her. The thought almost infuriated her to picking up a mound of snow and hurling it at a traffic light; she managed to refrain once she smelt the food coming from across the street.

She had decided–in between stealing hopeful glances towards the hotel bar and bistro–to go to a Portuguese-style restaurant that specialised in chicken, one she’d heard of back home, but never actually been to. And the fact that Beca had recommended it in the one and only text she’d sent Chloe since she arrived in London most certainly had nothing to do with it.

“Hi there, do you have a table booked, or are you waiting for someone?” the friendly, if chilly-looking teenager asked. Chloe shook her head, seeing plenty of empty tables behind them. “Alright, then, if you need anything, just let someone know and we’ll be with you whenever you’re ready.” They gave a vague, disinterested stare before moving away back to what seemed to be their post.

Without so much as a second thought, Chloe pulled out her phone and scrolled back a few messages. Granted, she didn’t have to scroll far, since the last four of her own had gone unanswered. It didn’t look as though Beca had even read them. The message with recommendations on it shone up at her, innocent and platonic, aside from one thing.

If you’re looking for a nice place to eat when you get here, go to a Nando’s Peri-Peri chicken place. Everything is great. See you soon, Becs

X

Who knew that one tiny little letter could throw Chloe Beale off balance so fast? If Beca did, she didn’t let on that she knew, and such a fact was only further irritating.

With her food on the way to her table, her next order of business was to text the Bellas. Almost all of them had replied to the messages in the group chat, save for Amy and Aubrey. The former had insisted that she wanted to keep up the air of mysteriousness that came with 180 million dollars, and so rarely let loose more than an emoji as conversation. Chloe’s other best friend though, was a little more tricky. The Lodge at Fallen leaves was five hours behind, and even with Aubrey’s meticulous schedules, she would be probably have been sleeping. Even so, a wake-up call from her best friend would change that.

“Chloe?” The redhead smiled gingerly, although they couldn’t see each other’s faces. “What are you doing, calling at this time in the morning? Are you even out of bed yet?”

“Ah,” was all she mumbled.

“Ah? What’s ‘ah’?” If Aubrey were standing up, Chloe knew her hands would be at her hips already.

“Well, you know how Beca sent us all invites to spend the holidays with her in London?” Aubrey gave a grunt of acknowledgement from the other end. “Well, I might have taken her up on that offer a bit earlier than the rest of you.” Chloe was sure that the wincing in her voice would be apparent.

“What about Amy? Won’t she be alone at Christmas?”

“No, that’s the beauty of this, Amy’s coming on the 27th with Emily because she’s spending Christmas trying to win Bumper back. And then the rest of you are still coming on the 28th, right?” She heard a sigh. “What was that?”

“Chloe, I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it. I mean, I fly home to spend Christmas with Mark and Stacie at my parents’, and then we reopen on New Years, so I’d barely have any time to let loose.” Thankfully, Chloe’s food arrived as she was processing the news, and the smell was so intoxicating, it drowned out the sourness of Aubrey’s confession.

“But Aubrey, this is Beca. She doesn’t have long in London, and we haven’t seen her since Europe.”

“Bull, we totally did! She came over to New York when I was visiting you.” Chloe sighed. It was times like then that she remembered how uptight her friend was, how rigidly she stuck to her schedules, and deviated from her plans as often as a snowdrift in Antarctica was hot.

“We were together for like an hour and even then, it was only the four of us; I’d like our times as the Bellas to continue. We’re always gonna be there for each other, remember?” Chloe angrily stabbed at a fry that was coated in a spicy salt that tingled as she swallowed it. “Just think about it, ok, because we don’t know the next time we’ll see Beca.” Another sigh on the other end. Chloe tore into the chicken on her plate, feeling almost as if she might send up sparks with how aggressively she was cutting the meat.

“Chloe…” Aubrey started, sighing again. “I think there’s a fact you need to face.” Whenever Aubrey thought it was time to start giving out hard truths, Chloe knew that there was something within it that was going to be difficult to take in, beyond the basic principle of whatever she would say.

But what she said took her aback more than she thought.

“Beca means more to you than just a best friend. We all know that, and just because we can’t make it, doesn’t mean we don’t love her too! You just love her differently.” Chloe was glad she hadn’t been mid-chew, because she may have choked right there in the booth in a barren restaurant on a cold London day.

“What?”

“When you came to my retreat a few years back, you and Beca shared a moment in the tent.” The gasp that left Chloe quickly turned into a squeak as she looked around in shock, as if her care for Beca could be anything other than best-friendship.

“How do you know-”

“You drunk texted me about it a few days ago after you got the letter, said that Amy spiked your cocoa or something. Doesn’t really matter how I know it, just that it happened and you are refusing to acknowledge it because you didn’t quite get the result you wanted. Or at least, that’s what it sounded like.” Chloe sat in stunned silence, the scraping of knives and forks on plates the only buffer between the silence of her quickly addled brain and Aubrey’s frantic squeals of “Chloe, you ok?” from the other end of the phone, although if she listened hard enough, she could probably hear her without the thing being pressed to her ear.

“Yeah, I’m gonna call you back, Aubrey. Merry Christmas.”

“Chloe, I didn’t-” She pressed the red hang up button and placed her phone face down on the table. Chloe stared at the plate and took a sip of water, gingerly putting the glass back down, fearing that she might drop it in her absentmindedness.

Could she have been that blind to it, she wondered. Had Beca been the person she was pining over, the reason things died out with Chicago and the very person stopping the Bellas being whole again? All questions that she wasn’t sure she wanted answers to. One that she was sure of was that she had come on this trip solely because of Beca. If there was just a time for the Bellas to meet up, most of them would be easy. Aubrey wasn’t far away, and they talked basically every day, not to mention the constant presence of Amy in and around the apartment in New York. Everyone else was close enough, aside from Emily, who had another year at Barden to go before she could roam the world. Even then, the youngest member had made time to see them whenever she could during summer break.

During that time, Beca was nowhere to be found.

Immediately, she hated the feeling of disliking Beca. It made her feel like her nodes were going to come back, and the trauma of that entire time with it, just jabbing her heart like a knife. But where had she been? Couldn’t she see how much she meant to people, how much she meant to her? Who had she clung to when The Fat Dingo Bitch had exploded, or when she had first night jitters on their first run as co-captains, or when she had applied to veterinary school and couldn’t bring herself to open the letter that would have admitted her.

Surely Beca had to know.

When her plate was free of any morsel of food, all heartily consumed and enjoyed, Chloe grabbed her phone and ignored Aubrey’s apologetic texts for the time being. And on her walk out, it began to lightly snow again.

She had heard of the weather in the United Kingdom, a mess of rain, sleet and more rain when it was cold, and burning heat that could cook an egg on a plate in minutes. That was to say, she had not expected a holiday greeting in the form of unobtrusive blankets of white covering the sidewalks, but not icy enough to make her slip and wipeout. The view was rather picturesque.

Instead of walk back to the hotel where she knew she would have to face Beca–and worse than that, the reason for her being to eager to accept her friend’s offer–she just kept going down random streets, knowing her phone was fully charged, she had an international data plan to use maps and that people spoke a language she understood. That last one had been a real problem in Spain.

In no time, she found herself down roads and cute alleys, most decorated with some variation on tinsel and lights. For a brief moment, she thought selfishly that her parents and brother would miss this, the beauty of such an old city in the dead of winter, snowed over and covered with Christmas cheer. And then she thought better of it, hating how one conversation with Aubrey about ‘harsh-truths’ could have sparked such a distasteful attitude within herself.

A large park came into view as she traipsed her unknown path, a space large enough that it might have fit their entire auditorium back at Barden within it. She traced a path through the snowy paths, careful to avoid the patches of ice that popped up every so often, trying in vain to figure herself out before another frozen puddle got in her way. Chloe groaned as her thoughts wandered to Beca and Aubrey again.

What moment was her older friend talking about, she wondered? And somewhat frustratingly, the answer came to her almost instantly.

The tent.

That could only be it. The small shared moment when most of the Bellas had smartly put in earplugs or wrapped a pillow around their heads. The infinitesimal second that she had told Beca her one greatest regret. Even since then, the two of them hadn’t said a word about it, especially not after the fight they got into mere hours later. And further still, Chloe had not ‘experimented’ with any part of her sexuality since, beyond the careless bit of light reading on some trashy lesbian romances. Why was that, she asked herself as she came to a frosty bench and sat to stave off the burning in her calves.

It would mean something if she did. It would mean that what she had said to Beca became that much more possible.

Her cheeks heated as she stumbled over the realisation. A man sat down next to her not a moment later, a friendly smile and long brown coat on.

“You’re putting off the inevitable, darling, aren’t you?” he chuckled. Chloe turned her head, stunned beyond long sentences.

“How? Why are you… Hello again?” she settled on a greeting. The same elderly man who had bumped into her that morning before she left the hotel was sitting on a park bench with her, smiling as if they were old friends.

“Hello.” He grinned. “I take it you aren’t proposing then?” Chloe laughed gently and shook her head.

“Just sorting some things out. I find that thinking alone helps most of the time.”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry to have disturbed you ruminating on your lady. I can go, if it might help young love.” She shook her head, hair ridding itself of a layer of snow, just as a new one settled.

“No, a bit of company might be nice, Sir.” She breathed a sigh of stress. “How did you know that I’m worried about a girl? I don’t want to sound rude, but it was a bit presumptuous, don’t you think?” He smiled with a large, almost all-knowing grin.

“It’s not hard to spot someone in love, darling. You just have to know your own heart, and these things come naturally. The age helps as well,” he chuckled, and Chloe laughed along. “And you, my dear, have the look of someone who doesn’t know what she’s going to say back to you.”

Her smirk let out a fresh cloud of steam from her lungs.

“That’s an understatement.” He cocked a bushy white eyebrow. “I don’t even know why I feel like this, why she makes me feel so…” She felt lost for words, the gravity of admittance weighing her tongue down.

“Desperate to share her heart.”

It was not a question.

Chloe babbled like a fish out of water, choosing to look down rather than meet his surely knowing smile. How did he know her and Beca’s turbulent relationship better than she did herself? She smiled as the memory of pulling back the curtain to her shower flickered across her mind. Perhaps she did want that, to know Beca more than a friend, to be in her life more than a message on a group chat, or a holiday once a year.

But she could no longer run it by her new mysterious friend, as when she turned back, there was a patch of snow as plump and fluffy as the rest of her bench, like no one had been sitting there at all.

It had renewed her vigour, to sit a while and contemplate alongside what must have been the Ghost of Christmas coming-outs, but soon, her hands and feet began to lose some sensation, even under the gloves and thick woollen socks she had been sensible enough to pack. And so, it was time to return to the hotel.

Nerves began to ramp up, escaping her in jittery shivers that had anyone looked, they’d have thought she was adjusting to the cold alone. Before she knew it, Chloe was back in the lobby of the hotel, shaking off the layer of snow that had accumulated faster than she thought possible on the hood of her coat.

A look around gave her a good idea of the comings and goings of the people. Surprisingly, there weren’t a great deal of people sticking around. Going to see family for the holidays, she supposed, still a little ticked off at her parents. She shook away the less cozy thought, and wandered back over to the front desk, where the tired woman she had met before was still at her station.

“Hi, again. I was wondering, how do I book a table, for say, two people for tomorrow, if I don’t know when the other person will be available?” she asked with a yawn. The jet lag was still making her a bit sleepy before she wanted, but there was time to rectify it on the rest of the trip.

“Of course, first you’ll want to-,”

“Hope you’re not planning to eat without me, Captain?” There was no mistaking the voice, but even as she whirled around, Chloe still couldn’t believe it. There she was, in the flesh, and looking better than ever–maybe even a bit... hot. Beca, grinning like the cat who caught the canary, and leaning on the side of the desk.

“Oh my god! Becs!” Chloe cried, launching herself in the direction of her best friend, whom she had called hot in her mind- and would certainly berate herself about it later. Without a second glance, she was taken into the fiercest hug she could remember ever receiving, not just from Beca, but all-the-better because it was.

“Hey, Chlo. Long time, no see.” Chloe held on a moment longer, even though she was pretty sure Beca might start to turn blue if she didn’t let go. Finally, when she did pull away, her friend pulled her in front and looked up and down, seemingly examining her outfit, or perhaps…

Was it her body?

No it couldn’t have been.

They stood with maybe an inch between their noses, staring into each other’s eyes, the eyes that had reminded Chloe so fondly of the brilliant times she had with the captain, and why when she had arrived at the airport, the only right thing to buy was the reindeer with a hat as deep and entrancingly blue as Beca’s irises.

“Beca,” was all she said for a moment, breathing her name like she had to spare it, like it was the last time she could utter such a word. A cough came from her right. She jumped apart and a spark went off in her hand as it left Beca’s.

“So do you still want the booking info for the restaurant?” the woman behind the desk asked, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“I’ll get back to you on that. Thank you.” Chloe turned back to Beca. She hadn’t changed a bit. Of course, Chloe still followed her instagram, both her private one that she’d had for years, and the new one for Bec: the rising star in the music world. “You look…”

“Ah save it,” Beca mumbled, her face screwing up with a shrug, “I know, I look like some fancy socialite with no time for her friends. And I’ve been acting a bit like it. Sorry about that by the way.” She rubbed the back of her neck and her cheeks pinked. Chloe could only stutter her way through a response.

“No!” Beca looked affronted for a moment. “No, Beca. You look amazing. You look like you belong to this life.” There was a sheepish grin. “But we’re here now, and that’s all that matters to me.” Chloe couldn’t help herself, and brought her in for another hug.

“Alright, Chlo, jeez, let a girl know before you squeeze the air out of her. Are my tits deflated now?” she snickered. Chloe couldn’t bring herself to do anything but grin.

“No, you’re perfect Becs.”

“So, how’s vet school?”

“Oh, it’s tough work but I’ve had harder challenges. Speaking of, did you know Amy’s taken to writing poetry for Bumper and practising it at night? It’s so wild!” Chloe laughed, having steadied herself on the queen size bed in Beca’s suite. It was plush and soft under her elbow, a far cry from the rickety, lumpy, barely-double bed in the apartment they used to share.

“Sounds like more trouble living with Amy than dealing with sick bunny rabbits.”

“Bunny rabbits?” Chloe repeated to herself. Who was this, and what had they done with the Beca who would rather have taken Lilly’s–or was it Esther’s?–place on the floor of the auditorium after the explosive fight in her first year at Barden than actually say ‘bunny rabbits’.

“Yeah, like sick dogs, and rabbits who can’t jump. Don’t forget the cats that don’t land on their feet all the time.” A derisive grin grew on Beca’s face. Chloe saw it out of the corner of her eye and flung a soft, feathery pillow at her head. Beca caught it with ease and threw it back to the bed, narrowly missing the arm propping one of them up. “But seriously, it’s rewarding? You’re getting what you want out of it? Because you know, I would be back there in a heartbeat if you guys need anything.”

The gesture tugged at Chloe’s chest. She and Amy both knew that there wasn’t much that she wouldn’t give for Beca to be back with them, living from paycheck to paycheck, but having fun as a trio, making the best go of it in New York as smart, young women could. But it was too selfish a thought.

“No, there’s no need. We’re great, and Amy’s got everything handled.” Chloe had to look away. If she hadn’t, she might have let her eyes do the talking; glassy, wistful and aching for Beca to be back in her life, to be sleeping next to her, waking them up with the smell of not-so-great coffee. She picked a piece of lint off her sweater.

“Ok.” Chloe knew something had been understood that wasn’t entirely what she meant. “Ok, well, good. That’s good to hear.”

Silence settled over them, Beca leaning on the large chair near a vanity in the corner, and Chloe not able to face her for more than a few moments.

“Thanks for the tickets.” She said out of the blue, after leaving the absence of noise long enough. “I can find a way to pay you back as soon as I finish school. Don’t you let me forget.”

“Chloe, the tickets are a gift.” She knew by the tone of her voice that Beca had rolled her eyes. “And even if not everyone shows, they can transfer them. Aubrey already called to tell me she doubts she’ll make it. And by the sounds of it, Emily is really busy with her exams, CR with flight school and don’t even get me started on Jessica and Ashley.”

Chloe nodded, sighing.

“So it might just be a few of us this year?” Beca broached. She could probably tell that her best friend was having a crisis of the familial kind. She was just good like that.

“Might be just the two of us and Amy. And if Bumper says no to her on Christmas, all hell’s gonna break loose, forget not showing; she’ll cut off contact from society.” Chloe shuddered at the thought. “No Christmas with the Bellas? I wanted to spend it with my family.”

“So why aren’t you back in California then? I thought the Beale family Christmases were a sight to behold.” Chloe fondly remembered many times recounting the traditions of her family, the chasing each other around with fake snowballs made of cotton, brothers and sisters exchanging mountains of presents with parents, and the food she always helped her dad make. She sighed.

“They’re visiting Joey this Christmas in New Zealand. And until your letter came, I thought I’d just have a quiet one in with Amy.” Chloe knew that Beca knew. She hated having a quiet Christmas. She hated feeling like she was alone when her entire holiday spirit centred around her family. Even at Barden, she had insisted that the Bellas always threw a Christmas party with the A Cappella groups. “Besides, I could say the same for you. Your dad and Sheila didn’t send an invite?”

Beca’s back straightened and her eyes flicked away from her a little too fast to be inconspicuous.

“They might have invited me. And I might have said that I was stuck in London for work and that I can’t see them until New Years.”

“Beca!” Chloe chastised. She got a glare back, but one of Beca’s patented ‘I don’t want to talk about this because I know I’m wrong’ faces.

“Yeah, yeah. Mom’s in Canada with Jeffrey and I also turned that down too. There, we’re all bad at being close for the holidays.” A frown came over Chloe. She hadn’t elected not to go to New Zealand, or chosen not to have the Bellas there, she was away from family for a reason.

Beca knew that, and it was why Chloe felt arms wrap around her again, for the second time in so many hours.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just bitter about the Bellas.” Chloe leaned back into the hug and felt a short breath on her neck.

A shiver slid down her spine. She wasn’t even cold.

“Say, how long were you out in the snow, Chlo? Because you’re kinda melting onto my bed, Frosty.”

Chloe sneezed in reply.

She woke up to the steady whistle of wind outside her room, darkness flooding in like the tide. Her head felt as heavy as a wet sock, and twice as disgusting.

It wasn’t her room. She’d fallen asleep in someone else’s room! She panicked and tried to hoist herself up before she was shoved back down with no small degree of care and soft, gentle hands.

Protected. That was how she felt.

Her eyes managed to open a little more to see the worried face of her best friend staring back down.

“Hey, you. How’s the coma been?”

“What!”

“Chloe, calm down. You slept for about nine hours after that cold medicine. Guess the British make stronger stuff than you’re used to.” She grinned lopsidedly and let Chloe pull herself up by her arm. “You have got a cold worse than a popsicle in the tundra, so you need to stay in bed.”

“But the stuff we had planned,-”

“Can be done when you aren’t going to faint from exhaustion. Or next year! Dude, seriously, did you learn nothing from your nodes? Pushing yourself doesn’t go well, and you’re more than smart enough to know that.” Chloe pouted and flopped back down, the quick shift in her equilibrium making her head swim again. Beca had a point when it came to being a mom and taking care of the Bellas.

It was something that they both shared the duty of in the Bellas house at Barden, not to mention that Amy always acted like the dumb teenager, and Emily was always the baby of the group. Beca folded her arms once she was sure Chloe wasn’t going to move again.

“I thought we talked about this. Is there something else going on?” There was a silence that she didn’t care to fill with the truth.

Beca’s piercing stare at any other time would have broken down Chloe’s walls faster than fire on a house made of hay. But it was not any other day, nor any old problem that could have been solved listening to Ariana in the gym, or blasting showtunes in the shower.

This was Beca. This was the girl she had just realised–apparently nearly half a day ago–that she still loved. That she had been in love with since she sang her way onto the Bellas nearly six years before. This was the Beca that she’d been pining for–crazily so–for a year, and then she and Jesse had become… whatever they had. Since then, she had shoved the feelings down, every inadequacy about Jesse and Beca’s relationship, any guy she went on a date with; she shut all of it down before it could reach the surface and tell her best friend exactly how she felt.

Because to Chloe, what was there to do but love Beca.

Chloe shook her head.

“Nothing. No, just, cold from the… cold.” If Aubrey was there, she would have been given a look to end all glares. If Amy was there, she’d have laughed her damn head off until she couldn’t breathe any longer. It was all her illness allowed her to do, though, and correcting her speech felt like climbing a tall wall without a shred of gear.

If Beca had seen her regret, or the want to hit herself over the head with the vase of flowers that stood on one of the nightstands, she hadn’t said so, though she did begin to regard Chloe with a quizzical look.

‘Damn it, even when she’s upset with me, she’s gorgeous.’

“If you’re sure Chlo. Just let me know if you need anything.” Beca turned around and made for the door. It took Chloe a moment to realise what she meant in her cold-medicine induced state.

“You’re leaving me here?”

“Yeah, I have a few more things to do today and I should officially be on my vacation then. Plus, I didn’t think you’d want me to stay after our… after what I said.”

“So what,” Chloe started, finally catching up to the conversation and starting to sit up again, “you’re going to take my room for the entire time I’m sick? No. No I can’t have you doing that!” Her exclamation was rather feeble, and whether it was because she really wanted to get along with Beca when it was just the two of them, or because she was feeling weaker by the minute, she couldn’t fight back the coughing fit that accompanied it.

In a moment, Beca was back at her side, helping her back into a comfortable position in bed, then rubbing small circles into her arms. Was she imagining a spark that trailed along her arms too?

“You’re too generous for your own good, you know that?” Beca smiled, pulling back again, a torturous move for the aching that had started as a warmness in Chloe’s arm.

“But you love me-,” Chloe yawned nasally, “anyway.” Her red hair had hit the pillow not a moment later, soft snores following it. Beca rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, I do.”

In her mind, there was only one thing that she needed from the trip to London. And with Christmas in just a couple of hours, Chloe’s wish had become to get better first, think about plans later, when her sinuses weren’t clogged and her head not throbbing. She could not spend Christmas locked up in a hotel room–Beca’s hotel room–with a cold and nothing to show for her trip besides a nose running more than a horror movie protagonist.

Beca was not there when she woke up, a change considering that her dreams had been basically chock-full of her small friend in some form or another.

Why had Beca popped up so many times? Why did she continue to be such an aggravating anecdote to every thought she came to. Perhaps, Chloe thought, it was the illness. Perhaps it was the addled mind of someone who needed a nice cup of chicken noodle soup, paired with the earlier conversation she’d had with her other best friend.

Yes. It had to be Aubrey, not that Beca was keeping her mind moving at hundreds of miles an hour. Not at all that since she’d been slapped by the realisation of the real reason for coming alone to London, she had been starstruck by her talented friend at every hurdle.

It never went well for Chloe when she got this attached to someone. She was well aware of the effect it had on her length of stay at Barden, but she hadn’t stayed purely for Beca then. Now, when it looked to be just the two of them alone in a hotel with no Amy to laugh or Aubrey to scold, she suspected trouble might come up sooner or later.

And soon it did.

“I thought you said you were going to try!” Chloe heard from the bathroom, though the door was closed. It was a raised hiss, Beca’s voice. Such a far cry from the melodic tones she knew her best friend could produce, and even just wrong knowing her normal voice. Although her head still throbbed with a dull pulse every now and then to remind her she was coming down from an illness, Chloe pulled the sheets off herself. Her legs didn’t dangle off the edge of the duvet like she had seen Beca’s do before–and that she had giggled at–but she did wince when her feet daintily brushed the carpet. The chill was like a freshly groomed Labrador had rolled in crunchy snow.

Beca was still muttering in the bathroom when Chloe managed to drag herself up and wobbled for a second. Once she’d caught her bearings, she looked around the room to find a signature Beca-like mess covering it. She had a small keyboard in the corner, a little dainty and most definitely not her style. Chloe scoffed. She wondered with an eyeroll how much Theo had to convince her it was only temporary and that she’d be back in a studio in no time.

“Why the fuck is this such a big deal, Dad? It’s no different than…” Chloe’s hands shot to her ears. She shouldn’t be listening to an argument between Beca and her father. Last time the two had spoken to each other, Beca had called Chloe in a mess of angry cursing and half-hearted promises to cut him off. That had been about moving to L.A full-time, for good. And although she would never tell anyone so, she agreed with Professor Mitchell; Beca should stay with the people that loved her.

“I should have expected this. God damn it, Dad! You had to do this on tonight of all nights, when I have to help take care of Chloe?” She knew that Beca was making all sorts of silent and rude gestures towards the phone. “Fuck this, she needs me more than you apparently do, so don’t bother calling back until you pull your head outta your ass!”

Chloe knew that sign off: Beca had hit the end call button harder than she hit piano keys when the music wasn’t flowing out of her, and she would be storming off to calm down and listen to ‘Titanium’.

If they still shared the choice of favourite song, that was.

Chloe bolted back into bed, quicker than she thought possible and managed to wrangle the sheets over her and get one pretend snore in before the door to the bathroom opened. She turned over, feigning sleep better than she thought she could when her throat was full of a cold. A few steps came towards the bed and then she felt pressure near her feet.

“Why don’t people get it, Chlo?” Beca said, seemingly into the air. “Why can’t he see that it changes nothing. It means nothing.” Chloe felt a hand tuck a strand of hair out of her face and was positive that if Beca didn’t know she was awake before, she soon would, because her cheeks would pink faster than a baby. “Well it doesn’t mean nothing, but it’s not gonna affect him. Why does me being who I am change him?”

So, in an effort to curb the oncoming embarrassment, Chloe squinted, yawning like she’d had eons of rest instead of ten seconds to pretend.

“Hey, Becs.” She hoped the pretend yawn that accompanied it sounded genuine enough.

“Chloe,” she jumped up and pressed a hand to her chest, startled.

Okay, Beca didn’t know she was awake.

“Sorry, I didn’t wake you up did I?” Chloe sat up with a groan, stretching for real that time and gave Beca a glance. For probably the tenth time in two days, she regarded Beca as being the picture of understated beauty. Her eyes weren’t done in her semi-usual smoky black, just bare and with a hint of… shine.

Beca had been crying, or at least close to tears.

“Becs, you ok?” There was a sudden twitch of her eye that didn’t make it past Chloe. “You need to sleep or something? I told you, you didn’t need to watch me while I was sleeping after you got back.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetie,” Beca shot back with a tired smirk. “I’ve been up all day and I only got back like twenty minutes ago.”

“That’s not a denial.” Chloe crossed her arms. “Seriously, get some rest, or better yet, just put some music on–that you didn’t create–and chill. Or actually…” she swept the covers off her and jumped a little at the cold air nipping at her toes. She had seen the brush on the vanity, the same one she brought everywhere since Barden.

Chloe was sure Beca would deny it if ever anyone asked, but that same brush was the one that they used whenever words would fail to calm one another down. They’d brought it on that retreat in their final year at college, and when no one was looking–lest Beca’s badass image be tainted–Chloe ran the brush gently through her hair as they sang together.

Now was barely any different, though Beca eyed it with faint apprehension.

“Chlo, what are you doing?” she asked, sounding exhausted.

“I’m gonna brush your hair and you’re going to relax. I promise.” She picked up the brush and went back to her seat at the head of the bed. “Now back up and come here.” Chloe knew she could turn on the stern voice if she needed to; it was a gift from her mom, an elementary school teacher for twenty years.

Beca sighed, her breath turning to steam as soon as it left her mouth, but she pulled her legs onto the bed and shuffled along the covers like a teenager embarrassed of parental affection. When her back was nearly parallel with Chloe’s chest, she stopped.

“Why, Chloe? We’re not at college anymore, we aren’t even in New York. Why do this?” Chloe gathered a portion of Beca’s long brown locks gently in her hand, like the slightest bit of force would pull it from her head, then pulled the bristles through. Chloe relaxed into the familiar feeling. Despite what her reluctant friend had said, they were always back at Barden when brushing each other’s hair.

“It doesn’t matter, Becs. I wouldn’t have come if I thought we’d be split apart so easily. I don’t mind that the Bellas aren’t here, or that we’re basically snowed in, or even that until about five minutes ago, I felt like I was dying of a head cold.” A tough strand got lodged in the brush, which Chloe caught before it tugged Beca’s scalp back, and separated before it caused her to wince. “Being back with you is like every day in New York.”

“Besides the bed sharing?” Beca asked. Chloe could tell there was a grin attached even without looking up from her hair.

“Well, you didn’t ask yet, and who’s to say I wouldn’t say yes?”

“We don’t need to though, Chloe. We can afford to sleep in separate rooms on vacation now.”

“Sounds like DJ Becs is gonna be paying my bills and letting me sleep in her bed. Ooooh, what will the tabloids think, your secret affair with a lowly veterinary assistant?” Chloe quipped back, winking although Beca was facing away from her; it was an instinct. She took another length of the hair as best as she could when the person it was attached to was fidgeting like a loon.

“I wouldn’t say lowly, you’re not exactly taking out the trash and cleaning animals up are you?” Chloe’s rhythm slowed and she turned her head away. Beca saw it in the mirror out of the corner of her eye. “Are you?”

“Well… I also help to stabilise them when the vets give them shots.”

“Chlo! I thought you said you were happy with it.” Beca turned, letting Chloe’s hand and the brush fall limply into the redhead’s lap. Beca tilted her chin up, confident in her ability to know when her best friend was lying to her.

Chloe looked away with a sigh.

“I am happy. My life is fine.” Beca raised an eyebrow and her hand shot to take Chloe’s. “It’s just,” she started to mumble, “I miss you so much.” She had said it so quietly that Beca asked her to repeat herself in the very same tone Chloe knew Dr Mitchell used on his students to get them to speak up.

Telling Beca how miserable the grunt work was had the potential to wreck their entire vacation. She wouldn’t risk that.

“I miss having so much stuff to do.” Chloe brought her eyes away from the woman across from her, who’d turned around so that she could quietly stare her down.

“Dude, you have a job, you’re still in vet school and unless Amy magically splurged her millions already and learned how to cook: you’re the only one working to contribute to the apartment.” Chloe raised her eyebrows, bags under them, there only in spirit. “You do enough! If anything, you need to slow down. Speaking of, how’s life dating an army guy?” Beca had looked down, and didn’t look like his name was something to be spoken.

“Um, well…” In truth, Chloe hadn’t spoken to him since their argument.

Chapter Text

-Two Months Ago-

“Chloe, I don’t know why we can’t just talk about this!” he growled. Chicago didn’t do that unless he was really passionate about something, and still, she could give him no better answer.

“I’m not moving out of New York, and I can’t do a- a what? A trial run in Spain? It’s beautiful there, but I can’t do it.”

“We’ve never even been in the same state for more than a week! I haven’t been able to see you in a month. And I can’t move to New York City!” He sighed. That was his defeated sigh. Not the ‘I’m giving up’ kind of exhale, but the one that said ‘I don’t want to argue this because I’m not budging an inch on my end’.

“I can’t be away from work and school right now. It isn’t good to split my focus more than it already is.”

“Where else is your mind?” He always was good at listening, so questions were his go to on their phone and skype calls. “What’s got you so out of sorts? We were fine in France.”

And there it was.

France, the thing that lingered on her mind, how since then, something had felt so wrong, but by all accounts, it all should have been fine. Great even. And yet…

“I don’t know. I just can’t leave this place.”

“This apartment, or the safety of your precious Barden friends?” He snarled. Chloe felt the heat of his words, the biting edge of his true thoughts. In all of the time she had known him, he was always decent. He would see what was wrong, and try to correct it instantly. Perhaps, she thought, it was that he tried to make up with her, rather than fix what was wrong or address whatever larger problem was at hand. Chicago was good at patching things up, but less so at putting things truly back together for good. Their problems always lay a little under the surface, and it was clear from the venom in his voice that he had been having a problem with the Bellas for some time.

That time, he noticed immediately, dropping his stiff shoulders and reaching for her hand. She tugged it back from the table. “Chloe. I’m sorry.”

“No. No, you’re right. I haven’t let go of Barden in the past. I haven’t, but this time I know that I’m not doing it because of them. I’m doing this for me. I’m not afraid of losing them. I know I never will. But that’s your problem isn’t it? We don’t work in a world where they’re just as important to me as my relationship.”

“This time?” His raised eyebrow felt like judgement, like he was second-guessing her intentions and what her life had been before him.

“Beca and I, we fought about this same thing, moving on. But back then, it wasn’t moving away from the Bellas. It was leaving everything I knew, the comfort of college and my friends and where I was safe.”

“Then why are you fighting me on this? You knew you had to move on then! Chloe, you’re making a mistake. They’re school friends, they’re singing buddies, but I can be more- we can have more.”

“No. Owen,” she knew he hated it when she used his given name, instead of the army-issued moniker, but what else would make him understand the weight she carried. It would make him understand that this was not something she would let happen. “This time, I can’t leave what I have left. I might be scared of what could happen to me, but I’m not afraid of change. The Bellas are my family, my home. Amy and Beca built this life with me and I am not giving up on it. Even for you.” Chloe looked away, taking a moment before looking back.

“Then… this is it. Isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“Even when your family is this small? All you have left is Amy! Aubrey is further away than I wanted us to be! And if Beca’s so close to you, why did she leave?” Chloe’s face turned stony in the wake of his words, insults more than anything. Maybe those comments were meant to hurt. Maybe they were just on his mind. But she would not stand for even him insulting her best friend. Her Beca.

“Please go. This is it.” She bit back. “There’s nothing left to discuss.” Chloe crossed her arms. “I’m not moving.” She wasn’t, and she was not letting go. Not that time.

Beca sat quietly, soaking in the silence.

“So what are you going to do?”

“What is there to do? I haven’t really spoken to him since.” She paused, sighing. It was true to an extent. She started fiddling with the hairbrush in her lap. “I think we broke up.”

“Think?” Beca raised an eyebrow. Chloe looked away and shook her head lightly.

“I don’t know. It felt kinda- I don’t know? Final? He wanted to move back to Georgia after his run in Spain is up, and I can’t do that. I can’t move to Spain for a year and I can’t move back to Georgia when everyone else in my life is anywhere but! And we’ve barely been seeing each other for a few months. That’s insane right?” Beca ran her tongue along her teeth. Chloe saw it, and cocked her head. What was there to consider there, it was a French vacation and six months of remotely hushed conversations about their lives.

It was nothing more than a passing fancy. And there was even less to ponder on since she’d come to London, because in the two days she’d been back with Beca, a light that she had forgotten was there had re-ignited in Chloe. Every small look they shared was a lifetime spent staring into each other’s eyes. Each small interaction made her heart thunder like a stampede of riled up horses. What was there with Chicago, the menial life of an army girlfriend, waiting for him to come home and hoping someone doesn’t hand you a flag one day as you cry on the front step?

“He and I are done. I don’t want to be forced into a life like he tried to do to me. He doesn’t get a say in what I do with my life!” Chloe huffed, holding the hairbrush’s handle just a little too tight. She looked back up and breathed out of her nose with a smile that was more phoney than Amy’s hushed snores when she was getting nosy and up in her business. Chloe sniffed, her cold still wreaking havoc on her head; the thoughts of Chicago and Beca only made it ache more. She thumbed the phone from the outside of her pocket, wishing that Chicago could be nothing more than a single word in a million when it came to Beca.

Beca was the rest of that metric. The tongue that stuck out of her mouth when she struggled with a particular beat. The inquisitive eyes that roamed over a room to find her when they got separated. The scent of coffee on her breath as they leaned over the breakfast nook in the Bellas house to hear each other. Every flex of her fingers before she pressed a piano key, every speck of black eyeliner that emphasised her deep blues, every twitch of her nose when she was riled up by Germans and her bosses.

Each tiny sign that Beca was the treasure that changed everything for her only made her fall even further. To where, Chloe didn’t know, but she yearned for it. And if there was any time to wish for something, Christmas was the time.

Beca stared, turning fully so that their knees brushed when she leaned over. Chloe’s hands were in her lap, defeated though her expression was manufactured content. She titled Chloe’s chin up so that she would look her in the eyes, although the headache made them flutter in and out of blurriness, so that all she could see was Beca, not even the wall behind her, some swirling pattern of tan and grey.

“You deserve more than just a ‘fine’ life. You deserve the world, Chloe, the earth, the sun, the stars. If the moon dropped from the sky as a ball of light, it wouldn’t compare to you. You’re the reason so many people are where they are, and they wouldn’t trade your smile or your annoyingly perfect hair for the world.” Chloe giggled and wiped at her eyelids, taking a tissue from the nightstand and blowing into it. Beca smiled and placed the bin next to Chloe’s side of the bed. “Fine isn’t the life for you, Chlo. And don’t settle for less than everything you worked hard for. Everything you deserve. That includes your love life.”

“Which of your snotty, profound producers are you quoting??” Chloe looked below the furrowed eyebrows that meant Beca was more than just confused about something. Her friend stared back into her eyes, full of care and concern–despite that being the longest and most healthy conversation she’d had in a while– then let her gaze to Beca’s lips, tongue darting out of her own.

Beca’s gaze flicked downwards.

“That was all me. And I meant every single word of it. You’re what I needed in college. You’re what I need now…” A sway in Chloe’s neck brought Beca’s stare from her lips to her eyes. Her bright blues started to flutter shut and almost gracefully, Chloe fell backwards and let sleep take her again.

Dreams of Beca, and nightmares of a text to Chicago Walp riddled her resting hours.

When eventually Chloe came to, her head was lighter than it had been all week; it still throbbed like the bass speaker in a club that she was sure Beca used to frequent, but the pain was starting to ebb away. A look at the clock on the nightstand told her it was just past eight in the morning. She wasn’t totally sure what time it had been when Beca had argued with her father over the phone without trying to wake her, but it looked as if her circadian rhythm had finally adjusted to London.

And it was Christmas eve.

And Beca was in the same bed as her!

Before she knew how to process it, the sleeping bump in the bed turned over, brown hair messily tied back turning with her. They were face to face, barely a foot from their noses touching, able to feel each other’s breath on their cheeks. Chloe pinked in shock and although they were shaky, she managed to get a few breaths out that were quiet enough not to wake her friend.

Was Beca just her friend?

Chloe had been so downtrodden since Beca had left the apartment in New York. Every call or text or godforsaken email she had sent to L.A to Beca was rife with thoughts of the past, how she secretly and subtly wished things could go back to a normal she was ok with, where they would argue over the comfortable side of that shitty bed in the apartment and come to an agreement of holding each other. Chloe knew that Christmas spirit always made her feel sentimental, so she wondered if trusting the growing feelings was a wise thing to do after all of that time.

She rolled her eyes, hating the way her eyes felt like they would pop out of her head if she did it again too soon. It was being too selfish. Her solipsism would be the death of their friendship if Beca wasn’t also at least a little interested. So why was ‘friend’ no longer the only word she wanted to call Beca?

Before she had time to try and find an answer to the question, Beca shifted in bed again, this time taking a bulk of the duvet with her. There was then barely enough to cover Chloe’s lithe frame, so she gave a little tug. The fabric budged a little, slipping out of sleepy Beca’s grasp enough to take back control of the sheets.

Another pull back to Beca’s side. Chloe pulled again.

“Heyyyyy,” Beca whined, sleep thick in her voice. For a moment it was cute, and then she ripped the covers onto her side. Immediately Chloe’s feet began to tremble with the cold. Even with the indoor heating, there was a bite to the air at the break of day.

“Beca!” she squealed, immediately jumping for the sweater she had discarded when the fever was at its worst. Slipping it on reminded her why she both loved and hated Beca in the mornings when they lived together. There was always a battle for the comfortable side of the bed, the majority of the covers, everything that could be fought over had been. And yet… she missed it to that day.

“Chloe?” she heard a tired murmur come from underneath the covers that had wrapped themselves around her tiny body. Chloe gave her a hum of acknowledgement. “What are you…” she must have remembered why there was a shivering girl in her bed. “Oh.” Her voice sounded as if she was back on the precipice of sleep.

“Can we share the covers?”

“Dude, just get in here.” Beca didn’t often give orders, but tired Beca was a dictator. She lifted up the right side of the duvet to create a gap for Chloe. “Come on, Chlo, it’s freezing, just get under this thing and we can share it.”

Chloe’s breath hitched. It took her a short moment to come to terms with what her friend was asking, but as soon as the chill nipped at her toes again, she darted under the outstretched sheets and closed the barrier of warmth behind her. With such little room under the covers, an accident was bound to happen. And it did so in the oddest way possible.

“Mmmmm, you’re soooo cuddly. What I love about you.” Beca was mumbling. Her hand had grazed Chloe’s thigh, and heat radiated down her leg which in any other circumstance would have her checking for snake bites. But no, there was no snake, no bug, or mite, or even a spider. There was just the gentle, graceful hum of a movement that swept over her exposed leg. And just as she was about to move back out of the zone of warmth: “I’m yours, of course you can.”

Beca’s arm reached over and curled around Chloe.

Her shoulders tensed, her breath all but driven from her with the close contact. Hadn’t it been only a couple of hours ago that they met again and embraced longer and closer than that?

But it hadn’t. There was no sensation like Beca’s arm slipping around her, pulling her closer like a bear in a thunderstorm. Could she tell, Chloe wondered. Was Beca having some elaborate dream fantasy with some hunk she’d met in L.A, or was she awake and purposefully confusing?

“Beca?” Chloe whispered. A few slim tresses reacted to the lightness of her voice and the softness she only had enough patience to use with her. There was no response. Beca was shifting in her sleep, talking in her sleep. Chloe looked at her forehead and saw the delicate strands of light from the half-closed blinds that she still couldn’t figure out how to use. “Beca?” she whispered again.

“I love… too…”

Chloe’s breath got lost in her throat.

Her mind grew rampant spawning thoughts and fantasies of if Beca, in her sleep-addled, dreamy state, was even possibly thinking of her. The way she thought of her friend, had for so long thought of Beca. Could it be a foggy, mind-invented version of Chloe that Beca was professing her love to? Back to.

“Becs? I- I-” another fit had started to build up in her nose, and rather than infect Beca with whatever illness she was clearly still risking transmitting, she swiftly removed herself from the covers and delicately sneezed into a tissue from the nightstand. The sound wasn’t loud enough to wake her… well whoever Beca was to her right then, up. “I should have been dealing with this on my own the whole time. I’m basically a nurse, for heaven’s sake, why should she be mine.”

Chloe took her clothes that had been drying all night and slipped them on in her groggy haze, feeling a nice warmness envelop her, and gathered her things. She didn’t need to impose on Beca’s personal room any longer now that her head cold had devolved into a minor cough.

She thought she heard a rustle from the bed, but Beca had just turned over again, away from her. Chloe sighed to herself.

“You’re too good to me Becs. I love you for it too. Well, for that and a few other things. Sleep tight, beautiful.” With her bag under her arm, it was a little tricky to lean over the large bed, but Chloe managed.

She left, having kissed Beca’s forehead, choosing to believe–however damaging it might be–that those dreams her friend was having, were all about her.

Sooooo, up for some Christmas shopping? I still have one or two things left to get, and I need to leave the damn keyboard alone cuz its being a real bench!
Bitch! I meant bitch! Stupid autocorrect. Anyway, if you’re up for it, I can be outside your room in like 10?
Becs, X

There it was again. The sly little thing had to be doing it on purpose right? Even as Chloe drafted a text back, the simple presence of the phoney kiss over messages made her slip up and nearly send a few words that she would delude herself into thinking were badly autocorrected. She stopped short of sending it.

It was Christmas Eve, and for the first time ever, she was spending Christmas with one person and one person alone.

So what, she told herself in the mirror after hitting send. It was just less people.

‘But it’s the one person you’ve been in love with for like five years.’ It was as if her reflection was talking back to her. ‘You’ve wanted this for a long time. Why shouldn’t you indulge a little?’

“It’s Beca. She’s not gay. She’s not even bi. Wouldn’t she have told me of all people if she was?”

‘If the situations were reversed, would you have told her if you were newly bi again?’ Chloe supposed that was true. ‘Exactly. She could be just as in love with you as you are with her. And you’re just spending Christmas together, there’s no harm in that between whatever you two are. So spend it with her, dummy.’

Chloe really didn’t like her overly insistent reflection that morning, even if she did admittedly look great- well as great as she could having to wear a long coat over her outfit since the snow was not seeming to let up. She took one last look in the mirror, where she could swear the face staring back at her smirked and raised an eyebrow ready for a saucy wink. Chloe turned away and left before it could, though the mirror-her might have said something about saving it for someone else.

Down in the lobby, where they agreed to meet, Beca was waiting on a seat near the exit, looking to enjoy snow-gazing at the large and white world outside.

“Well, good morning sleeping beauty.” Chloe had laid her hands on Beca’s shoulders and given her a squeeze on the arm. Not expecting it, she jumped out of her seat and whirled around to face Chloe.

“Hey, not cool, dude, I wasn’t watching!”

“Okay, what’s got you so jumpy this morning? Anything happen while you were asleep?” Chloe poked her in the ribs as they walked outside. She returned the playful nudge as they set off down one way. It only occurred to Chloe that they hadn’t exactly planned out where to go shopping beyond finding a place and looking around.

“Hmm, let’s see, the random girl in my bed was gone before I woke up and… she forgot her bra.” Chloe’s heart jumped into her throat.

“What, what are you-” she began to splutter. Chloe looked around to make sure Beca hadn’t just alerted the whole lobby to how clumsy she was. “Becs!” she hissed.

“You want it back?” Beca teased, reaching into her pocket.

“WHAT? NO BECA, NOT HERE!” Chloe squealed, turning as red as her hair. Then she caught her friend struggling to keep her hand over her mouth and nearly doubled over on the street corner. “You didn’t actually bring it with you, did you.”

“No. Chloe. I did not bring your lacy red bra with me in my coat pocket while we go out shopping, and I was not going to hand it to you in the middle of London. Or did I, and was I?” Even as she gave Chloe her best deadpan face, her cackling laughter couldn’t be contained. “You should have seen yourself.” Chloe groaned. Beca took the lead and started to cross the road as the lights turned red at the crosswalk. “Serves you right for hogging the covers.”

It was going to be a long, fun and embarrassing day if Beca had her way of things.

“Let’s just find a freaking taxi, devil-lady,” Chloe pouted, slightly amused but altogether mortified at Beca holding her embarrassment captive. “Are you really going to play Schrodinger’s bra with me all day?” she asked as a taxi with a yellow light saw them and began to pull into the parking space near the side of the road.

“That depends, is it gonna rile you up even more if I do, or if I take it out and give it back in broad daylight?” Beca hissed as Chloe asked the cabbie where to go shopping. She broke out in a red blush all over her face, wary of the driver, though his face didn’t seem to betray him hearing a thing. As they entered and the cab pulled away from the curb, she decided she did not like that game at all.

“First Christmas together, my dears?” he made small talk as they waited at a red light. Not wanting to be rude, Chloe gave a polite smile back.

“Oh, we’re just here for the holidays, you know, no other family to go to, so spending it with my best friend is the next best thing.” Beca snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Gee, thanks Chlo. No more free room service on me then,” she joked. Her breath became very clear in front of them as she sat with a short, awkward silence. “Hey, don’t mean to bother you,” she addressed the driver, “but is there any way to turn the heating up in here?” He sighed.

“Sorry about that, love. Seat warmers and heating been broken since yesterday. There’s a spare blanket on top of the parcel shelf if that’d help. Had a few left over from the shelter earlier.” He laughed. It was a warm and comforting sound, almost as if Saint Nick himself was chuckling up a storm in the driver’s seat. “Trust me to buy too many blankets the day before Christmas. You two have it, it’ll be more useful in your hands. ‘Fraid I can’t help you anymore than that though.” From where they had caught the taxi, it would be around twenty minutes at the rate they were going to get to the first shopping centre they’d hastily looked up. Not that Chloe would blame the driver just doing his job on Christmas Eve of all days.

Still, no heating meant blanket, or huddling together in the back seat. Or both.

The prospect of the third option brought a flush to Chloe’s cheeks, but she didn’t dare ask Beca herself.

“Chloe, you take the blanket, I know your feet get cold super quick.” Chloe rolled her eyes at her friend. Nobility hadn’t been on her mind that morning when she had stolen the covers- admittedly the ones on Beca’s own bed.

“Don’t do that, Becs.” Beca gave her a look like she’d been slapped awake, complete with the red face and furrowed eyebrows. “You get chilly just as easily as I do. We’ll share it, okay? Scoot over here and use the middle seatbelt.”

Apparently she did dare ask when her brain was as overcrowded as it was in the taxi.

After considering it for a few moments and waiting for another stop at a red light, she unbuckled the belt she had been using, slid over on the back seats and clipped herself in again, letting Chloe wrap the tartan fabric around them both, and then her arm.

It was a little garish, perhaps a few too many colours, but damn if it wasn’t soft and cosy under it. Chloe ran her hands over the underside of the fluffy material like it had been freshly woven and delicately placed in their laps by an overprotective parent. And of course, Beca being nestled– if a little stiffly–in the crook of her arm was more than enough to bring some warmth back into her bones.

“Any plans for tomorrow? Or just spending it with those you love?” The driver asked with a kind smile, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Uhhh…” Beca started, trailing off and looking at Chloe with a twinge of… Well, Chloe couldn’t quite tell what it was. It might have been embarrassment, if Beca Mitchell got embarrassed. Perhaps it was simply too cold to think; the weather certainly hadn’t helped Chloe so far.

“Just, dinner, wine, good company and a few presents. That’s all we need from the day I think, right Becs?” Chloe felt a nod in the gap under her arm.

“This country is too damn cold,” she heard Beca mutter under the blanket, careful not to let the kind driver hear her insulting his home. Chloe let out a soft chuckle, content just to leave her best friend nestled in her arms silently for the rest of the journey.

With the cozy blanket nicely folded in one of their numerous shopping bags, they had gone around a small portion of London all day, just peeking into different shops and seeing what–if any–gifts popped out at them. At several points Chloe had stopped and pointed towards different little food stalls, most when they were at Camden Market, and Beca had to give in to the patented Chloe Beale pout. She wouldn’t tell Beca, but she knew it always worked, and she secretly saw every tiny smile that was sent her way. It was starting to feel as if four months hadn’t passed again.

As they wandered around the litany of streets that made up the market, Chloe heard a bundle of voices singly softly at the foot of one of the large walls. The slow song she immediately recognised as one of her favourites from when she was a kid.

Once bitten, twice shy
You keep your distance,
But you still catch my eye
Tell me baby, do you recognise me,
Well it’s been a year
It doesn’t surprise me

Joining in with the music was easier than falling asleep after a hard day of dealing with doped-up dogs and screaming cats. She hummed along for a moment, and led Beca towards the crowd.

Merry Christmas
I wrapped it up and sent it,
With a note saying I loved you
I meant it,
Now I know what a fool I’ve been
And if you kiss me now I know you’d fool me again

“Becs, come on! I know you know this one,” Chloe whined, playfully tugging at the belt on Beca’s jacket. She rolled her eyes and smiled at her antics before sidling up to the group and joining.

Last Christmas I gave you my heart
But the very next day you gave it away,
This year to save me from tears
I’ll give it to someone special

A few other people had come around the corner and noticed the jolly singers, and must have found the voices appealing enough to join in. Their collective song seemed to rouse spirits all over the street; some people joining with small voices they must have assumed weren’t worth belting with, others swaying in the frosty air with loved ones. Two guys in the middle of the crowd burst out laughing and began to slow dance like they were at prom, spinning in circles and eventually finding their feet when they stopped moving.

The older looking one, a face full of dark hair and piercing green eyes, looked fondly at the other, who wore a smile as wide as the Thames River they’d seen earlier in the day. Suddenly, the shorter one dropped to a knee and reached deep into his coat pocket, pulling from it a box that everyone knew the meaning of. Chloe’s mouth curled into a wide grin as she grabbed Beca’s arm and hopped in delight at the newly engaged couple.

“Oh my god!” she began to bounce up and down on the balls of her feet, cupping her hand over her mouth in excitement. “Aw, Becs, we helped bring a couple to propose! On Christmas Eve!” She turned back towards the two men and clapped along with many of the patrons around, missing the way Beca’s head tilted, and her eyes filled with a happy shimmer, watching her best friend so moved by it all. Even though Beca rolled her eyes, Chloe knew she appreciated the levity and cuteness deep down. The small lop-sided grin confirmed it. “See, I knew you couldn’t be against love forever, Beca.”

“I never had anything against love as a concept,” Beca argued back, frowning slightly, snow catching on her furrowed eyebrows. “I just think that I’ve had some really shitty times with it and I don’t know if it’s ever going to be in the cards for me. Plus, my work is important to me!”

“Becs, trust me, it’s important to the person who loves you. Or it will be!” Chloe corrected herself hastily. “You’ll see babe.”

“Sure, whatever, Chlo.” She sighed, slipping her free hand into her pocket. “You know,” Beca started, “there are some great places to get food here I’ve been told. Apparently they have a burrito with all the fixings of a Christmas dinner in it? Sound good,” she asked, turning to Chloe, whose stomach gave an impassioned growl in response. “I’m buying,” Beca replied with a smirk. As the crowd of people began to slowly disperse, Chloe handed a twenty pound note to the group of musicians, who tipped their heads and wished them a Merry Christmas and waved as they walked away.

“You know, I should start putting out if you’re going to keep buying me stuff,” Chloe teased. Beca snorted and rolled her eyes again, although she blushed a little, something Chloe didn’t catch.

“Hey if I can’t treat my best friend to food every now and then, I shouldn’t be sleeping in her bed or carrying around her delicates to hand back to her in an embarrassing way.” Chloe knew that her cheeks had turned bright red, and it was not from the cold. Looking around, she saw no one staring or making a weird face, except for Beca, who was smirking. Chloe pouted.

“Okay, now you really do owe me dinner,” she hissed as they walked towards the stall. “And stop talking about my bra!” Some confused Londoners shot them quirky looks which just made Beca laugh even harder than before, so Chloe had to stumble through their food order. After they ordered, they stayed as close as they could to watch the food being made, and marvelled at how quick the people working in what felt like sub-zero temperatures got things done.

When they were served, Chloe smiled in wonder, and a little partial concern at how easily Beca seemed to wolf down the monstrosity, and found herself laughing at the ferocity of her bites. As she did, a drop of velvety, savoury gravy trickled down the side of her mouth. Though she felt it, she was slow to brush it away, too swept up in the delight of the moment. Before she knew what was happening, she felt a soft touch on her cheek and a thumb putting slight pressure on the side of her lips. It was a gentle touch, but Chloe froze, her heart stopping in her chest as her skin was brushed ever-so-slightly. She looked up from the food to meet Beca’s eyes, gentle and kind, relishing the moment, though it felt like her vacation had been leading up to a moment such as this. A charged moment of uncertain looks and even more uncertain outcomes. Chloe felt the soft pad of Beca’s thumb stop, her hand now cupping the cheek that if she had dared to find a mirror, she knew would be bright red. The delicate sense of her touch was like a shock to her skin, electrifying and dangerous.

Dangerous in the way it made her stare into the eyes of the woman she was in love with. Dangerous in the way Beca’s own lips looked more and more enticing as she ran her tongue over them, still not breaking eye contact with Chloe. Dangerous in how precarious Beca’s hand was, for if she moved in what Chloe wasn’t sure was the right or wrong way, there would be no recourse but to retaliate, to take Beca’s face into her hands, her short frame into her arms and never let go.

Her heart thrummed in her chest when Beca stepped closer and looped their fingers together, her hand leaving Chloe’s face with a pang of burning and chilling warmth left in its wake. She felt the same electricity as had travelled down her leg earlier in bed rush through her fingers, a deep pulse that made her long for more in a way friends didn’t typically long for in her experience. Beca’s lips curled into a classic Beca Mitchell smile; thin, bashful, but most certainly there and indubitably happy.

“I’m really glad you decided to come with me, Chlo.” She breathed into the cold air, steam rolling between them like a train had obscured them from the world. “I know it feels so long since France and we’ve done a lot as separate people since then, but it really does mean so much. Even if surprising me by coming early nearly gave me a freaking heart attack.” She saw Beca turn vulnerable and the second she did, her feelings rushed to the surface.

“Of course I came, Becs. Christmas is about family, it’s about spending time with every person who makes your entire year mean something special. At least that’s how I see it. And who else has made my year as special as my best friend?”

“Oof, don’t let Aubrey hear you say that,” Beca snickered.

“But with my parents being in New Zealand with my brother, was there ever any doubt which family I would spend the holidays with?”

“Well, I mean I have been busy… and a bitch too. I barely answered texts, I couldn’t make it to Flo’s new juice bar opening or Cynthia-Rose’s first day of flight school! I’ve been a bitch to you guys. Shit I haven’t even texted Benji back since August… If he had a single confrontational bone in his body, he’d kill me.” Beca seemed to deflate a little, even with Chloe’s hands linked warmly with hers.

“Beca you’ve been busy working for one of the biggest artists in the world, and literally creating your own music! This is what you dreamed of long before I knew you. Dreams don’t leave when you reach them, they just expand into reality, and that’s always going to be harder than doing it all in your sleep.”

“Now who’s doing the profound quotes, huh? That from Russian Lit? Or did my dad teach you that one?” Beca teased, nudging Chloe’s shoulder.

“All I’m saying is that you have the right to be busy. Yeah, you can apologise to people, but it’s not like you were doing it to be a bitch. It just happened.”

“So, some are born bitchy and some have bitchiness thrust upon them?” Beca sighed with a scoff. Chloe laughed and nodded. “Okay, good to know.” She gazed up at the redhead with creased eyebrows. “So you really would have stayed in that cold-ass apartment all Christmas while Amy goes off on a two-week sex party with Bumper?”

“Well, yeah. Which I suppose is fair, I did tell my parents I had plans, even if it was just going to be me and Amy getting drunk and watching some dumb Netflix rom-coms.” Beca sniggered.

“Like those shitty princess ones you somehow love so much?” she teased, knowing they held a silly place in their hearts. Chloe’s jaw dropped open in mock offence.

“How dare you Beca Mitchell! The Christmas Crown is the best shitty Christmas movie in the world, and you know if we still lived together…” she trailed off. If they had still been living together, none of that would have happened. Beca would never have had her record deal, Amy would still be invading their privacy in the bathroom, making gay jokes every time the two of them fell asleep in the bed they had to share and happened to wake up with their noses touching. But if they still lived together, they would be closer, more in sync.

“Look, Becs, I’m here. I’m always going to be here when you ask. It wasn’t just that I had no-one else this year. It’s that without you, everything means so much less.”

The words were caught in her throat like a fish in a net, all tangled and frantic. She wanted so desperately to tell Beca that it was all her. That she was the reason Christmas in England had been so enticing. It would be the truth, but she had to cover it up, because what else was there to do? If Beca felt nothing in return, what would have been the point in coming? What would have been the point in abandoning getting drunk in New York on Christmas Day and allowing herself to wallow in the failures that had been? Tom from Barden, that suave girl who introduced her to her veterinary course, Chicago from the tour. She had told herself that they were all failures on her part and that Beca would be the next if she decided to pursue it.

So, coming to London was for the Bellas. Chloe had to tell herself that it was to see everyone, of which Beca was included, and that was it.

It would have been that continuous lie she fed herself to keep from crying out and declaring everything she felt. That lie that seemed less stable with each moment she stared into the eyes of her best friend. But those monumental feelings and internal tumult had only grown stronger since she had been in London surrounded by, full of and wholly enshrouded in the beautiful enigma that was Beca Mitchell.

It was always going to be Beca. She deserved to know. Chloe knew that. But her friend wasn’t like other people, and certainly nothing like the boys she had ever dated. So how would she tell her?

Other people didn’t make her heart jump into her throat when they hugged her. Other people could be vain and callous, but Beca knew her better than anyone and didn’t bother with a front. Beca was unapologetically herself, abrasive and snarky and yet, Chloe wouldn’t trade a single thing about her. There wasn’t going back from her, forgetting the grumpy, cute face or the way her tiny frame could dominate a room with nothing but her voice. It was amazing to watch her work, or to think about work, or just play around on a keyboard and plunk away aimlessly. To tell her would mean to upset the very balance of one of things that made their relationship so special and at times, so tantalising.

Within all of the moments they shared, drunk her pulling the new girl closer at her very first hood night, sleeping under the stars in a tent full of girls and only noticing Beca’s light snores when the rest were a distant cacophony. Within all of those there was the promise of something more than a Bella sisterhood, there were touches and signs meant only for Beca, only ever for her, but would surely spell something new and uncharted for them if ever Beca had reciprocated the feelings behind them.

As Beca’s hand slipped from her face, she stepped closer.

“I really am glad you’re here,” Beca whispered, as if the entire street had been abandoned. Snow became caught in their hair, frightfully only adding to Chloe’s tapestry of romantic what-could-be’s with Beca.

And yet, as if on cue, her tiny snow globe that left her and Beca alone, was smashed.

“Chloe?” A gruff but calm voice asked, and she felt a hand on her shoulder just as she was about to lean in closer and warm them both up. Turning, ready to yell and hit something, Chloe was met with the blue eyes and familiar stubble of someone who brought her exuberance surrounding Beca’s adorable-looking yorkshire pudding blunder to a screeching halt, as if black ice had rendered her mind immovable.

“Chicago?” His hair was peppered with snow, much like Becas, because of course she had forgotten a coat with a hood on it. “What are you doing here?” She almost went in for a hug on reflex, and remembered that she hadn’t in fact told anyone but Amy, Beca and Aubrey that she was coming to London for the holidays, so why was he there? Except, she had. She felt her phone in her pocket, as if the text she had sent was burning through her hands.

Hi Owen. I know things ended badly between us last time we spoke, but I wanted to wish you a Happy Christmas. I’m headed off to London with the girls for the holidays!

Mentally slapping herself for being so stupid and amicable when she was tipsy and high on adrenaline from the idea of the trip, she dragged herself back to the present, where his lopsided grin brought back memories of hushed arguments and immediate make-up sex. It really hadn’t been all that healthy had it, she thought.

“Uh, I have family just outside London, so I was doing some sightseeing before Christmas day.” He almost sounded unsure. He raised his eyebrows and lifted his arms in a gesture to the surrounding streets. “Guess this is a popular tourist spot, huh?”

“Guess so.” Chloe was very aware of the fact she was being checked out. Chicago’s eyes slipped lower than her face, and suddenly she felt the need to button up her jacket to her neck. He seemed to notice and looked back up, but Chloe was already backing away. She pulled Beca from the Yorkshire pudding burrito-thing that she had turned back to in an attempt to hide. Not that she would blame her after the big-time interruption. “Becs, remember Chicago?” As soon as her friend turned around, Chloe could tell that it was a bad idea.

Beca nodded curtly at him, and crossed her arms. If looks could kill, Chloe was sure that the stare her friend levelled at the soldier would have wiped out his entire bloodline. Failing that, Beca had been known to punch a person in the face when she felt like they deserved it. A ghost of a smile graced Chloe’s face as she recalled the hefty swing she had taken at one of the Tonehangers as an Undergrad, which was then rendered inert by the way the two of them looked to size each other up with their eyes.

“Yeah. Hey.” Chloe could sense the cold in her voice as she stared at the soldier. The market around them disappeared as Beca turned to her, with eyes tired and energy fleeing from her bright and fiery demeanour.

“So, how’s the producer thing going?” he asked. Beca looked away and rolled her eyes, gesturing for Chloe to help her escape.

“Uh, great, yeah, really good. Got a load of tracks in final stages, second album prep coming up. Keeps me busy, keeps food on the table.” Beca slinked a hand around Chloe’s fingers. “I’ve been lucky enough to have Chloe here for the holidays too, all expenses paid.” The hand tightened and Chloe felt that familiar spark travel up her arm, sending heat all over. The snow might melt around her if Beca kept it up. “We’re just doing some Christmas shopping, thinking of going out for dinner later.”

Was that… Was Beca Mitchell actually sizing him up? Was Beca jealous?

She wasn’t familiar with this particular shade of Beca Mitchell. Her chest stirred, her heart thundering like hooves on packed grass. A blush crept its way into her cheeks, and Chloe was helpless to fight it off. Did she want to?

“Wow. That sounds,” he raised his eyebrows at Chloe, as if to ask what was going on between them, “uh, expensive. How did you manage that in four months?” he asked with a voice filled with condescension. Shit. Was he fighting back against Beca’s jealousy?

Beca narrowed her eyes at Chicago and shuffled in closer to Chloe’s side.

“The things we do for the people we love, huh?”

Love. A simple word yet again rendering Chloe speechless and stunned simply because it came out of Beca Mitchell’s mouth.

“Khaled treats my music like a work of art, just watches and lets me create the things I want. And I’m not usually wrong,” she said proudly. She linked her arm around Chloe’s waist and gave it a slight tug.

Chloe was sure her cheeks had turned as red as her hair. She was stunned, barely able to move off Beca’s hip, and when she managed to extricate herself, she could swear that she heard her friend’s disappointment in the way she shoved her hand into her pocket.

“Huh. Well, good for you, Beca. I should uh,” his eyes darted towards the redhead, and then towards their interlocked hands “I should go. I have an early start tomorrow. It would be great if we could meet up the day after Christmas before I go back, Chloe.” He nodded to them with a half salute, turning and walking in the opposite direction.

When he was out of sight, Chloe let out a breath she had been holding for what felt like an hour, seeing steam billow out of her mouth and mingle with the breaths of every other person in the market.

“Well, that was awkward. What a coincidence, seeing him here.” Beca had quickly finished her food and picked up her bags again. She gave her a brief smile and looked away.

Her hand slipped from Chloe’s.

“Was it?” she muttered. Perhaps she thought Chloe couldn’t hear her. “Let’s just get back to the hotel, Chlo. We have a reservation at the bistro tonight, and I think I wanna get a nap first.” The short conversation they’d had with Chicago looked to have taken the wind out from under her wings, if the slumped shoulders and dejected tone were anything to go off. Normally with Beca, they would not, given she emphasised they were part of her ‘cool cat demeanour’ or something to that effect. But having known her for so long, and revising her studies on her friend in the last few days, Chloe could tell that something had set her mind into overdrive.

“Shall we go find a taxi?”

“Yeah. I guess. Let’s just get out of the cold before you catch pneumonia or run into another ex.”

“It wasn’t pneumonia, Becs, I was fine…” Chloe protested. At least she still had the energy to make sarcastic quips. Or did Beca actually worry? No, couldn’t be.

Not that much. Not that angrily.

Beca said nothing as they walked back to the main roads and towards a taxi stopped in a parking space. Their bags swung by their legs, though Chloe saw how protective of her own Beca was, almost as if it was made of glass or crystal. She gave the driver the address of the hotel, and the kind-looking old man smiled. Beca huddled close in the back of the cab; she wasn’t used to the cold apparently, even after being in England a whole month longer than her. Her breath had started to turn into steam, pale and rolling in the backseat, even as close as she was to being on Chloe’s lap. As they pulled out into the road, Beca turned away from her.

They had separated as soon as they had exited the elevator in the hotel. Beca didn’t turn back once she stepped over the threshold. Her bags were held stiffly in fingers that were a little pale from the cold, and she gave a small shiver when she stepped away from Chloe.

Both of them felt the cold from the sudden absence of the other.

“Okay… Um, well are we still on for tonight, and dinner tomorrow?” Beca gave her a short nod, readjusting the blanket under her arm.

She had that tartan blanket tucked under her arm, something Chloe had insisted on when the snow had bitten back. But it had been a real comfort when, in the back of the first taxi, she had stared down at Beca’s head nuzzled into her and thought only of them. She almost wished she’d have kept it herself, just to have another small piece of each other. That taxi driver had given them the same looks as that old man from the elevator, like he was admiring an unspoken but obvious bond.

Chloe convinced herself that those sort of looks were just normal. Maybe it was all the result of being caught up in some picturesque landscape and everyone just expected mistletoe to sprout above every pair of friends. Still, she couldn’t deny the hammering of her heart when Beca had gently wiped her cheek and held her in her hand for a brief moment even if the illusion was shattered as soon as Chicago came along.

However she did not expect the enormity of those unsaid feelings to all-but topple her as soon as she was enshrouded in the silence and solitude of her own room again.

Chloe collapsed onto the door, what snow that remained, melting on her way sliding down it. Beca’s silence since they’d seen Chicago hadn’t told her a thing except that the two of them apparently were lax in their communication. How had she allowed the soldier to come between them again? It was as if the months after the USO tour, defined by stunted conversation and less face time than they would have in a quarantine, were nothing more than a dream to him, like he could waltz back into her life and pretend that their chemistry had been more than a passing fancy.

The vacation had been her only one-on-one time with Beca in months, and yet Chicago had stepped in and made things complicated again. And it seemed as if it might be her fault. Could the soldier really have followed her from a text message alone, hoping to rekindle things whilst she was supposed to be spending time with her girls. The wall had come back up, and Beca was dangling from the top, threatening to fall over to the other side, away from her. If they were separated again, she didn’t know if what they had could survive.

Chloe would not let her. She wouldn’t let someone- anyone come between them the way a few months apart had.

They had thirty minutes until the reservation at the restaurant downstairs. One dinner to get Beca back, to restore what Chicago’s presence had somehow torn down. It wasn’t clear to her then what that was, whether it was friendship or something more.

Couldn’t it wait, she wondered.

Beca was finally back in her life, and losing her again was not an option. That meant figuring out what they were to each other. A sigh shook her body. She found Aubrey’s words echoing in her head as she shucked off the jacket and hung it on the hanger near the door.

Beca means more to you than just a best friend.

And hadn’t she been working that out over the last three days, even if she’d been bed-ridden for most of the time in London? It was more than just their friendship being put on the line. She took off her sweater and dumped it on the floor next to her.

Everything was at stake. Their friendship, their legacy as co-captains because who would want one co-captain without the other? More than that, Chloe wanted to see where the earlier tension would go. Although she had no idea how Beca truly felt, what had reared its head at that Christmas market had set her blood on fire, it had caused an explosion in her chest and a fond tightness in her gut that had only ebbed when she was no longer meeting her friend’s eyes. And one thing more was for certain, she never wanted to stop that feeling ever again. Chloe discarded her boots and rubbed her ankle gently before putting her other hand over her mouth with wide eyes.

“Shit,” she whispered into the darkness of the room; she hadn’t got the energy to turn on the lights yet. “I’m in love with her. I’m in love with Beca Mitchell.”

What was there to do? Even if she knew that her heart only beat the same way twice when she was around Beca, how could she interfere with her best friend’s life? She had her music career that would surely be hampered by a girlfriend-

Was she even gay or bi or pan or queer at all? Beca knew that Chloe was bi, had done ever since her drunk confession at their Bellas housewarming party, and on many times since. Or at least, a less dense person might have seen it, since according to Aubrey, Chloe’s drooling over Beca was not restricted to private spaces in the slightest.

The thought hit her to call Aubrey. After doing some really quick and she hoped, really accurate time difference math, she whipped out her phone and hit one of her few favourited contacts, the one right above it taunting her with the heart and kiss she’d put next to Beca’s.

The first ring went by and the phone picked up.

“Hello, Aubrey Posen speaking?”

“Aubrey, you have caller ID; I know it’s you.”

“Aaaaand this is…”

“Chloe, your best friend you bitch, quick I need your help!”

“Sorry Chloe, I busted some investor’s balls too hard and he said he’d set his hacker on me or something so I’m just being sure. Anyways, what’s up, did you sleep with Beca yet?” There came a snigger from the other end of the line, although Chloe felt her heart leap into her throat like a stubborn frog on opening night. The silence was apparently enough for her oldest friend to get all she needed.

“Wait, you did, already? Even Amy bet it wouldn’t happen for three days after you- anyway how was it?”

“I didn’t sleep with Beca. But we did share a duvet when I was too ill to move from her bed,” A squeal came from Aubrey, “and we curled up for warmth,” another squeal of delight, “and we woke up face to face before I slipped out and went to my room.”

“You dummy! She wouldn’t have slept in the same bed as you if she wasn’t feeling some type of way!”

“What, like tired?” Chloe asked with a deadpan expression, and it was clear enough in her voice for Aubrey to know what she looked like from thousands of miles away.

“Hey don’t give me that look! So what’s the emergency if not to tell me she got you pregnant?” Aubrey laughed to herself.

“We were out shopping at this cute little outdoor market, really chic and stuff, and then we had these like Christmas dinner burrito things, so good but way too much although they were totes-”

“Chloe! The point?”

“Oh screw you, you’d enjoy the market…” she muttered. “Anyway she saw some gravy on my cheek and wiped it off and I swear to god we looked at each other and if she’d left it a second longer we would have got an indecent exposure charge.”

“Eww! Chloe, why would you tell me that much?” Chloe shrugged to herself. It was true after all.

“Point is, I thought we had a moment and I could have sworn I was about to kiss her, and then Chicago showed up.”

“As in buff, blue eyed, chiselled, USO tour Chicago?”

“No, the city in fucking Illinois.” Chloe spat with an unamused face. “Yes, the guy from the USO tour! So you remember I dated him for a bit but it fizzled like two months ago?” She got an affirmative grunt that sounded disapproving already. “Well I texted him Merry Christmas and that I was spending it with the girls in London and he magically shows up here, on the day we’re out shopping and I want to kiss her until I have to remind her of her own name! Can that in any world be a coincidence?” A few moments of silence filled the call. “Aubrey?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Wow… That was a whole lot of angry and crazy and horny mixed into one breath. I’m gonna need you to just breathe and chill for a moment, ok?” How could she? She felt like the sky was going to start falling in and she had no idea if the last thing she saw of Beca was a frown and shrug instead of her eyes shining with inspiration or her chest heaving because she’d just cooked a meal dancing to ‘Titanium’ for the four-thousandth time.

“She’s barely said more than two words to me since we got into the cab and back to the hotel. You realise how pointless asking me to take a breath now is, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s always worth a shot in case you actually do listen. So just to be clear, Beca is probably upset at you because I expect you were so shocked at him being there, that you didn’t think to temper your tone with him, and now she won’t talk to you and I imagine since you’re so frantic you have some sort of dinner date or something lined up soon?”

“YES! Jesus, how did you not get the hint your graduating year and yet you can see literally everything that’s happening right now?”

“It’s a gift, sweetheart.” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Well, I’d say that if you’re still going to the dinner you have planned, bring it up and make sure you tell her how it shocked you to see your ex and that you’re completely over him, and completely in love with her.”

“AUBREY!”

“Okay, fine, if you wanna be stupid and dense, leave out the last part, but let her know that there’s nothing between you and Chicago now. From there, maybe she’ll get the hint and cotton on.”

“But what if she doesn’t love me back?” She heard a scoff.

“Please.”

“Do not quote Barney Stinson to me right now!”

“Okay, got to go sweetie, love you byeeeeee-” The line dropped dead, making Chloe want to hurl her phone at the wall. For a moment, she took Aubrey’s advice onboard and took some deep breaths, hoping to get calm enough to assess her situation. Her phone call with Aubrey had lasted the better part of ten minutes, leaving her thirty to get ready and be downstairs in the bistro for their dinner.

Having got her shower, makeup and dressing routine down to a fine, precise art form at that point, Chloe was out of the shower–which she had certainly not thought about drowning herself in–wearing her best black cocktail dress that she was thanking Amy for invasively insisting she bring, a black leather jacket and standing by her door with her clutch and phone held in her hand. It would have been a lie to say that she always got that dressed up for dinner in a restaurant, but she wasn’t dressing for just anyone, not a guy who wanted to get into her pants or a girl looking to try women for a night. No, Chloe dressed for Beca.

She remembered the way people had always eyed her when she dressed up, all dropped jaws and readjusted collars, but the only reaction she wanted was for Beca to look at her like she was worth considering. As someone to date, someone to love beyond the kinship they shared. And Amy had told her that with the slim, knee-length black dress, anything was possible.

Her walk was a little shaky towards the elevator, even in her usual night-out black heels. Secretly, she liked that they gave her a little bit of height on Beca in most instances. As she pressed the button, her heart was in her throat, and she hoped that either Beca was already there, or that she was not yet ready. As it dinged and told her the floor The elevator wasn’t too cramped. Only two people were on it and one got off as soon as they got to the floor below hers. Then she was alone, quiet and ready, but nervous as hell.

“First date. Always an important one. Of course, it helps when you already know them as well as they know themselves.” Chloe turned to see the old man, dapper and dressed up with a crinkled smile.

“Oh, hi again,” she replied, recognising the warmth in his words. “You said something about a first date? We’re still just…”

“Just what, my dear?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, of course you don’t. You can’t see into the future.”

“You can?” Chloe laughed, the sweet man taking her mind off her rapid heart rate.

“Of course. Didn’t you know all old people can see the future!” he chuckled. “You’re going to a restaurant, my darling, and on Christmas Eve no less. If you’re this nervous instead of excited, you’re waiting for something to be answered” Chloe sighed in amused exasperation.

“Is it that obvious?” He nodded with a raise of his bushy eyebrows. “Well, not an answer exactly, but we’ve been so out of sync and I need to get her back.”

“Do you know what you’re going to say?” The elevator doors opened three floors above her stop and in waltzed a teenager somehow wearing jeans and a polo shirt, bobbing along to some music in his ears. He wasn’t listening to them as he pressed the floor number button and went back to humming. Chloe turned back towards the man.

“I need her to know how much she means to me. She’s the reason I came to London and why I stayed in college- sorry, university, for three years longer. I know that she’s the most important person I know and that I can’t lose her again. I lost her before when I made a stupid mistake.”

“Mistakes are mistakes because they can be fixed. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here with her, dressed to the nines and ready to tell her you love her.”

“I do. I do love her. God, it took me so damn long to figure that out!” Chloe cried, laughing tiredly. The elevator dinged, finally on the ground floor. “Thank you again!” she half-yelled, half cried in the direction of the elevator, but he seemed to have gone by the time she had reached the entrance to the bistro.

The friendly guy at the door gave her a table number when she brought up the reservation, a smile on his face almost like he was wishing her luck. Not bothering to second guess it and refusing to look back again, because well- she was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to turn too fast if your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest with each step forward.

The place was alive with the lively clamour you might expect from a warm place with good food during a cold night. Although it was Christmas Eve, Chloe saw many people enjoying their time over regular bar food; she had hoped there might be some special twist or British delicacy supposed to be eaten on Christmas eve, like a hot cider equivalent on Thanksgiving. As she took her seat in the booth, the plush leather quite soft and relaxing, she let her mind wander.

Had the way that Beca stared at Chicago meant something more than a friend-of-a-friend indifference, or had Beca Mitchell, the suave, angsty, aggravating, adorable, awesome producer really been jealous of how Chloe had mistakenly looked at him. Was there a sign that she could have missed in her friend’s body language? And then a dreadful thought struck her.

Would she turn up, at all?

An eager waiter came to her table, wearing his manufactured, white-toothed smile, asking if she wanted something to drink whilst she waited on her guest. Stubbornly, she ordered a glass of Merlot. She supposed it could have been worse; she could have been wearing white.

“Oh, Beca, please,” she said to herself, looking down at the menu, eyes locking onto something from the seafood side of the menu, but not seeing anything in particular. “Don’t leave me here.” She was never one to make prayers, but wishes- those she believed in.

“I got my ticket for the long way round,
Two bottle of whisky for the way,
And I sure would like some sweet company-”

“Cause I’m leavin’ tomorrow, what do you say?” A voice finished above her. Chloe didn’t have to drag her eyes away from the mussels on the menu to know who had finished her wish.

“Becs,” she whispered. Chloe raised her head slowly, as if making a sudden movement would scare her off like a jumpy wild animal. “You came.” She was starting to state the obvious, taken in by her best friend’s outfit. She wore a silk top that was a bright, Christmassy red and black harem pants and a golden necklace that Chloe knew she had received as a graduation present from her mother.

“Already started drinking without me, Chlo? Come on, we’re not twenty-two anymore,” Beca joked. Chloe was still admiring her standing before the table, a picture of high society, fashion, culture. Although, she noticed, Beca still wore her black ear-piercings and the clunk on the wooden floor told her that all the money at Khaled’s disposal couldn’t get Beca Mitchell to take off her favourite, worn-in black boots.

Beca’s voice was soft, not the usual commanding and demanding presence she knew and loved about her. She wouldn’t count herself a genius by any stretch of the imagination, but now that she was sitting in front of her, dressed like a contemporary goddess with a voice weaker than Fat Amy resisting Bumper Allen, Chloe knew Beca wasn’t ok.

The question struggled to leave her lips as Beca picked up a menu and made very obvious movements across the page with her finger. She had gone right to the drinks section as well.

“Becs, I…” she started, losing her voice halfway through her next words. The noise of the restaurant was left between them as Beca flicked her eyes up to Chloe. “I don’t really know what to say. Well, I think I know why you’re upset with me.”

“Who says I’m upset? What should I be upset about?” A tone-deaf blind man could have picked up on her biting voice. It punctured Chloe’s skin like a knife, and she was sure that a knife would have hurt her less than the icy glare Beca had never once given her, not even when she had kept that internship at Residual Heat from the Bellas.

“The thing with… With Chicago,” Chloe sighed, each word weighing her down. “At the market when he turned up, I know that I- I clammed up- I looked like I was so surprised! I was shocked, I swear.” She pleaded. “I didn’t expect it at all and I never meant to hurt you by reacting the way I did, and not… not saying what I needed to.”

“Chloe, look, I… get it. I mean, you of all people deserve to be happy, and if he makes you happy, I would never ask you to sacrifice that. And really, I shouldn’t have put my hands on you like that either.”

“Beca I’m not in love with him!” Chloe blurted out in a panic. God, where was that wine, she wondered nervously. She sighed, turning back to her friend but unable to look her in the eyes. She couldn’t stand to look at Beca’s disappointed eyes. “I did tell Chicago that I was visiting you and the Bellas for a girls trip here, and I meant that as nothing more than a friendly text to tell him ‘Happy Christmas’. But my plans changed before I even ran into you.” Beca tilted her head, placing down the menu sharply and glancing at the waiter who dropped off Chloe’s glass of wine.

“An El Diablo, please?” she asked, still looking at Chloe, but sparing the waiter a short nod. “As you were saying…”

“I called Aubrey the day after I got here and long story short, she isn’t coming, neither is Stacy. Amy’s gonna get back with Bumper, and you know how long their sex romps last for.” Both of them shivered at the thought. “I haven’t even been able to get in touch with the other girls, but,” Chloe sighed, “I know that they’d be here if their lives weren’t more important than seeing you. Mine is.”

Chloe fell silent, letting the sounds of the bistro engulf the two of them like a wave of babbling businessmen and cutlery scraping against plates.

“And him?” Beca murmured. Her drink arrived in the pause, and she took a scarily long swig keeping her eyes trained on Chloe. The cocktail seemed to both mollify and frustrate her at the same time, given the way she looked at it, almost as if it wasn’t exactly as she expected. “Did he fit into the new plan?” Chloe could only shake her head. Her best friend’s voice had turned gravelly and her eyes looked sunken just speaking about Chicago.

“No.” Confidently Chloe disavowed her of that. It was the most honest thing she had the guts to say right then and there. “No, he wasn’t part of any plan. The plan was always you, Beca. To- to spend this time with you. To be in London, with you.” Chloe took another sip of her wine, the sleeves of her jacket creasing as her elbows rested on the table. She liked that jacket. It reminded her of the last time the Bellas had felt like themselves, had felt like each one of them was there because of their friendship, and there for Beca.

The tour was the last time she had felt like that.

“You know, the night before I got that letter, the sweet letter you sent, I was cleaning our cups after Amy went to bed and I did the wish song.”

“What? You still do that?” Beca asked with a wondering smile tugging at her lips. Chloe’s cheeks pinked, letting slip an exasperated sigh.

“More often than I should. But this is the first time that wish looked like it had come true.”

“The hell did you wish for, snow in December for once? A holiday without Amy’s latest hunk using up all our hot water?”

“I wished for you, Becs. Just you.” She met Beca’s eyes across the table, forgetting the surging noise of the bistro around them. “It was the first time I’ve ever wished for something so hard that it felt like I would go mad if I couldn’t get it.”

“I’ll be sure to ask your brother about that someday,” Beca laughed. Chloe’s serious stare remained fixed on her eyes.

“You can ask my parents too. All I’ve wished for in the years I’ve known you was for your attention, your care.”

“Chloe,” Beca started. She fiddled with the discarded straw from the glass. “I’ve always cared. You’re… You’re my best friend. And clearly the most loyal,” she joked, “since no one else is here early to celebrate with me.”

The waiter came to them with a tiny notebook, a slight cough and the sight of a pristine white cloth draped over his arm distracting them. His expectant look drew Chloe back towards her menu.

“Burrata with some ciabatta for starters. Chicken Milanese for the lady, and Lamb Rump for me, please. And the bottle of red she had too. Did I get that right?” She turned to address Chloe at the end, only to get a nod in response. “Thanks.” She handed their menus back and drained the dregs of her El Diablo. How had Chloe not realised how fast Beca put away drinks or how she always licked the left side of her mouth afterwards, but absolutely never the right. “You were saying something about… uh, attention, I think?” she returned back to their conversation.

“Beca… oh god.” Chloe groaned and buried her head in her hands, rubbing her temples like her head would let a genie out if she polished it hard enough. “At the risk of fucking everything up, and because I can’t keep it in anymore.” She sighed. She was about to blow everything up, and she had no idea if it could be put back together, or even made anew. “I only ever wanted your attention. I waited every day for three years, failed my exams and flunked everything, working shift after shift to pay for three more years… It was all for you. All to see you look at me like I was the only person in the world. I did it all because I cared more about you than anything else- I still care about you more than anything.” A dense quiet caught her for a moment. She didn’t dare look at her best friend’s face. After all, she could pretend it was like Schrodinger’s cat unless she looked up and listened to Beca. “I have been so over the top, madly, crazily, stupidly, in love with you for, oh I don’t even fucking know how long now! But I can’t keep it in anymore. I don’t want to live the life as someone you speak to as part of a singing group, or someone you send a girl’s trip invite to.

I want to be that person to you. The one you call at five in the morning because you’re stressed. I want to be the person who wakes up next to you and holds you after a nightmare, or takes care of you when you’re sick and catch a cold, and preferably not when I have one because that sucked!

I wished so badly that you would tell us you were into girls, or that you wanted to experiment too, or that breaking up with Jesse was a realisation! Becs, I just wished on a goddamn song from the freaking 30s, just for you to be in my life, making it whole again. Yes, I wanted my best friend back. But I want you, I want… I want you Becs, because I love you.”

Every instinct in her rational brain told Chloe she should high-tail it out of the bistro, forget her things and somehow hitchhike a plane back to the states to live out her days in a convent. She couldn’t forget Beca, even if her friend’s response was to never think about her again and get a restraining order of a million miles. It wasn’t possible to forget her. Love does that to people. It did it to her.

“Chloe.” Beca’s voice was next to her. She turned to face what she imagined must be a harsh, unenthused scowl. What she hadn’t thought to imagine was the sight of Beca bending over, face aglow with… was it relief? Her voice was as soft as the opening notes of her latest creation that Beca had let her hear before literally anyone in the entire world. “Chlo, why, why not tell me sooner? Why not- You know what, it doesn’t matter. We’re here now.” Beca leaned down, pulling her into a fierce hug that could have been the last thing to ever happen on earth and Chloe would feel at peace with it. Forgetting the makeup she’d not long applied, she softly cried into Beca’s shoulder. And still, she waited for a response.

“You make me crazy, Becs. You make my heart feel a hundred things at once, and every single one of them ends up in the same conclusion: that I love you. It’s impossible to think of anything else when I’m around you.” Chloe’s voice had finally given up, resulting in a strained rasp, almost a whine. Beca took a seat next to her, sidling up the fine leather towards her, keeping a hand on hers.

“Oh, Chlo. This entire trip… This entire vacation was for you. I love the girls, but I needed you here. I needed my best friend to know how much she meant to me.” She stroked Chloe’s head, feeling the soft red strands and loving how they flowed around her fingers. Beca sighed, not usually one for the soft conversations, the ones where you wear your heart out on your sleeve, but Chloe needed it. And that’s what mattered.

“You were right, you know,” Beca began. Chloe sniffed and looked up, dabbing at her eyes with the napkin. “I was, perhaps, maybe a little jealous of Chicago. And I was a bit put-out by him. I get why you reacted that way. I only… I only got so possessive because… Shit, Chloe. I don’t know if I have the energy to say it more than once, so listen closely when I tell you.” She took Chloe’s hand in hers, caressing her cheek gently. There was nothing but the familiar soft ridges of Beca’s hands, her shallow, nervous breaths, the beating of their hearts in the silence they made.

“I. Love. You. Too.”

The exhale she had been waiting on reached her mouth, and Chloe could only gasp shortly. She swore her heart stopped beating for a full minute. Beca continued to stare into her eyes, their connection not even broken by the arrival of their entrees and the wine.

“Chloe? You ok?” Beca asked, still frozen, still holding her hand.

“Yeah, yes,” Chloe murmured, eyes glittering, though her tears had stopped rolling. “I just… I think I started to lose hope you’d ever say it. Well, until that old man in the elevator told me I looked like I was going to propose.” She laughed as Beca cocked her head.

“That’s strange, an old guy in the lobby told me I looked like I was practising walking down the aisle,” she chuckled reverently. Chloe saw Beca’s face flow through emotions faster than ever before as she took her seat again. A long, quiet moment surrounded them until Chloe looked around, finding that the world hadn’t erupted into stars and her feet were still placed firmly on the floor.

“It was real,” she whispered to herself.

“I don’t know how much more real it can get, Chlo,” Beca smirked, looking over their food, then back to her. “But can I ask what this is? I mean, do you want this, for real? Because if you let me in, if we become… us, don’t forget everything that comes with it. There’s publicity, catcalls, press events. There’s so much that could make you regret that choice and as much as I want you, the reason I was so distant was to protect you from that.”

“Beca, I’m here for it all. Every bad photoshoot, every album debut, every rave you guest DJ at. If you have me, I’m yours in everything, I promise.”

“You don’t have to decide right this second, Chloe, there’s a lot to consider.”

“Not enough to keep me away from you. I love you for what you do. I love you for what you’ve always done. Your music is your soul, Becs, and I love it just as much as I love every other part of you.”

“If you say so.” Beca smiled, moving around in the booth and laid her land in Chloe’s. “Well I did get all dressed up to make you see what you were missing, so I’m glad it’s not all wasted.” Chloe barked out a laugh, thankful she wasn’t sipping her wine, or there may have been a genuine, embarrassing spit-take all over the white tablecloth.

“But you hate dressing up. You do it like twice a year, and you did it four times on tour!”

“For you, Chloe, I’d dress in a clown costume and run down the road chasing a pigeon if it made you look at me in even a fraction of the same way you have tonight.”

“And how have I looked at you?” Chloe asked with pursed lips, purposefully riling Beca up.

“Like you’re sorry for ever letting that stupid soldier get between us. Like you want to stay in bed until noon tomorrow and forget the world. Like you want to tear my blouse off and steal my clothes just like I did yours.” As soon as Beca ceased whispering into her ear with a seductive hiss, and Chloe managed to shake off the euphoric shiver that washed over her, their food began to arrive. “But there’s time for all of that later. Let us get back to our first date.”

She could swear her eyes would be shimmering with tears for the rest of the evening if Beca kept talking the way she did. After so long, girlfriend would no longer be said in a catty voice as if simply commenting on her outfit, or to her family when they asked what her college friends were up to. Girlfriend would finally mean that her wishes came true, that Beca was finally, utterly and completely, hers.

Over the table, they entertained themselves with the slowly quieting buzz of the surrounding tables, nibbling on the food in front of them between glances at each other. More than once, Beca had to drag her eyes away and remind herself that she needed to eat, because staring at Chloe was more than enough to keep her satisfied for as long as she was in her eyesight.

“What?” Chloe finally asked, dabbing at her mouth with the napkin and fixing Beca with an intrigued glare. “Have I got something on my dress?” She looked around, checking her sleeves, fixing her necklace, making sure there had been no drips down onto her chest, though she was certain she had been too concerned with her best friend’s eyes and outfit to notice at all.

“Nothing…” Beca mumbled, her cheeks pinking as she made a hasty retreat into herself and started to mess around with the knives and forks on the table, seeming to desperately need them aligned. “Damn it, this is awkward. Why did you do this to me?” Beca asked with an exasperated smile at the tablecloth. Suddenly the swirling patterns on it were extremely fascinating. She picked up her glass of wine, swirling it around before she took a sip, although it looked as if sooner or later she might succumb to it, and the second bottle they had ordered.

“Do to you? What did I do?” Chloe leaned forward on her elbows with her hands clasped, her plate empty by the wayside. Beca only talked like that when she was backed into a corner, nowhere to run and no excuses to make.

“Make me fall for you. You just burrowed your way into my head with your voice and that red hair and-,”

“Couldn’t get me in the shower out of your mind?” Chloe asked with a smirk, trying to quell that heat rising to her neck and calm the beating in her chest that sounded like an overenthusiastic child discovering drums. Beca blushed again. She could always count on her friend to be reserved, even when she was passionate and caring underneath the suave and moody persona.

“Well, no, I couldn’t, but what I was gonna say was that- well you’re my best friend and I can’t even imagine my life without you in it.” She refilled her glass of wine and took a decent gulp from it. Chloe took the bottle from her and refilled her own glass. She wanted to be on the same level as Beca, on the same page too, but with enough of the delicious stuff, the both of them would be spilling their deepest, darkest, dirtiest secrets.

“You know your face is starting to turn as red as your shirt,” Chloe teased, trying her best not to laugh at the way Beca’s ears turned bright red and her cheeks were verging on a quivering mess of frustration and defeat. “Hey, I feel the same way. You do understand that right? Me saying everything I said isn’t just me trying to get into your nicely tailored pants, babe, it’s everything I’ve wanted to say for years and just didn’t have the Amy levels of confidence I needed to say something.”

“Well, Amy would probably have told me about it for you if you’d mentioned it to her.”

“Becs, I’m pretty sure most of the Bellas are aware.” The sheepish grin full of teeth she shot Beca did not look to alleviate her look of concern. “Well I mean, I wasn’t exactly especially coy about being Bi. Aubrey knew, Cynthia-Rose knew, Emily practically interrogated it out of me and danced around for ten minutes whilst giving me a hug.” Beca burst out laughing, the sound bouncing off the seats of their booth and giving Chloe a sweet aria to replay in her head when she needed a boost. On reflection, she had found a lot of those at that point, and many had to do with Beca and her Bellas.

“Okay, yeah, I guess that makes sense. Besides, there have been weirder pairings in history. Hell, there have been weirder pairings in the Bellas.” They shivered, remembering just how awkward Lily-Esther had made flirting with that DJ from the tour. “Speaking of…” Chloe had brought the wine glass to her lips, but let her eyes find Beca’s over the rim. “This is, public, right. Because I might have to tell Theo and Khaled.” She furrowed her eyebrows at Beca.

Their relationship had barely been defined, having only admitted their feelings to each other the equivalent of an appetiser and main course ago, and yes, she had agreed to the publicity that came with being with Beca–because how could she not when it was Beca–but the fact hit her like a brick to the stomach.

“Um, yeah, I- I guess. I don’t mind that, Becs, but… can you promise there will always be just me and you, even if you have to be Beca to the world.”

“I think those are the same words, sweetie,” Beca laughed. She rolled her eyes widely as Chloe’s sunk into a deadpan stare. “No, I knew what you meant. If fame ever comes between us, I would give it up in a second. Remember, I’m not gonna turn my back on my family. I can live without my name in lights, Chloe, but I can’t live without your face being the first and last thing I see every day.”

“Sweet talker!” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Sure you’re not trying to get me into bed?”

“Already did it, remember? Three years of it in that shitty apartment and more or less an entire day when you were knocked out from a cold. The question is, what do we use our other hotel room for now?”

“Other room?”

“Wait, shit, sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed…”

“That because we’ve seen each other naked, slept in the same bed and now we’re whatever the hell we are that would sleep next to each other? Becs.” Chloe chuckled, her laugh lifting Beca’s head from her hands. “Of course that’s okay to assume. And- well, yes. We should. Plus waking up together on Christmas morning? Can’t think of a better way to start the day.” Beca smiled at her from over the table, and with a comfortable look finally coming over her, Chloe decided to push her a little more. “Well, I can think of one way, but that might have to wait until the morning at this rate.” Even with the red hue tinting her cheeks, Beca smiled and waved over a nearby loitering waiter to ask for the cheque.

“Want to get out of here, Chlo?” she asked quickly with a wry smile that told Chloe Beca was now in control of their evening. Weighing the compromise in her head, she gave a short nod to her left, towards the exit to the restaurant.

“Bring the wine and you’ve got a deal.”

Chloe’s heart hammered in her chest as she swiped the card Beca had given her. The girl herself had gone to settle up their tab and grab the bottle of wine from whatever Chloe assumed the british version of a concierge was. She’d been left at the elevator doors with a long kiss and the keycard to her suite, bouncing on the balls of her feet in anticipation, and the ride upstairs was no less exciting.

When the door swung open and nudged against a pair of heels lazily discarded by the entrance to the room, Chloe chuckled to herself and left her own by them. Beca had been wearing boots, which almost certainly meant that she had been pacing back and forth barefoot trying to decide between fancy and chic heels, or her boots with the wearing down soles that she’d had since Barden. She was glad Beca had chosen the latter.

The keyboard in the corner wore some scuff marks from when Amy had accidentally knocked it off the stand in their old apartment, and for good measure, Chloe took a tentative plink at one of the keys. It was on some program that she couldn’t figure out if it could save her life, but was sure Beca could tell her almost everything about it if asked. Her laptop was open on the desk, the screen dimmed but clearly on a document with some lyrics scattered about to notes. Chloe hummed a few of them, liking the rhythm it had, and almost began to sing the words, until the knock at the door startled her from the music. She snickered to herself, forgetting that she usually locked doors after closing them behind her, so Beca was trapped outside until she decided to be merciful.

“Who is it?” she sang playfully, holding back a laugh.

“Dude, come on! Let me in,” Beca groaned from the other side of the door. She could hear the smile in her voice. “I could always drink this wine from this side of the door, and you know I will.” Beca’s threats were jokey, but Chloe knew if she didn’t open the door soon, she probably wouldn’t get very many kisses from her that night. She clicked the lock back and pulled the handle down, revealing Beca’s hand clasped around the neck of a bottle of wine with an amused half-frown. “Enjoying the time alone, were we?”

“Maybe a little bit. You know Becs, it’s interesting to see how the one percent live,” Chloe teased. Beca raised her eyebrows as she noticed the room’s disarray and the laptop screen still on.

“Damn,” she muttered to herself, tapping her forehead with her fingers. “Sorry it’s such a mess.”

“Babe, we shared a bed and a bathroom together for like two years. This is not the worst either of us has seen. Although that song over there, I couldn’t help but read some of the lyrics. You have a finished version to listen to?”

In a rare instance, Beca blushed, something Chloe noticed she could make her do with almost no practice. Well, she supposed that wasn’t totally true; they had been friends for six years and there was more than enough between them to make her squirm. “Becs,” she asked in sing-song, “come on, please?” She pouted hard enough that even Aubrey might have folded under her batting eyelashes, but Beca didn’t budge an inch towards the screen.

“That isn’t ready yet. And it’s an important one.”

“They’re all important, though, aren’t they? All of our songs have been important since the beginning. Even ‘Titanium’!”

“Chlo! I don’t really need to hear about your lady jam right now!”

“I think it’s the perfect time. Either that or you get that wine opened and get comfy on your bed.” Chloe made it sound as if she was giving Beca a choice, but really, with the two of them wine-drunk and cosying up on Beca’s objectively more comfortable bed, she only envisioned a few specific things happening, and they were far from innocent.

“Now we’re talking, babe.”

Chloe felt a warm rush fly into every part of her body. Simply hearing Beca say the word ‘babe’, and for her to mean it in the ‘I-want-to kiss-your-lips-until-they’re-puffy-and-press-you-against-the-wall’ way, it set her blood on fire.

“But can we get into something a bit more comfortable first like pyjamas? I look like a stiff business exec and you look like you should be waltzing down a runway,” Beca requested sheepishly.

“Waltzing?” Chloe giggled. “What do you think people do at fashion shows?” Beca huffed as she started to remove her blouse.

“I don’t know, like, they run along a platform in bits of lace that you can barely call panties that regular people can’t afford? Whatever, Chlo! Not my point, you mean lady.” Beca pouted for a moment as her top came over her head. Chloe stared and her mouth became dry again. “I can just get naked now and you could wait until the morning to get in bed with me…” It was all Chloe needed to sit with her back turned to her and start to strip off her own layers.

Her leather jacket had become stifling, trapping all the heat that Beca was fuelling her with inside. Chloe hoped dearly that she wasn’t going to sweat, especially given how ironic that would be given the snow that had settled on the balcony railing. She turned to peek at Beca, and saw her slowly start to peel down the pants she had on, probably a gift from some high-end fashion designer that Chloe’s salary was far too low to be thinking about.

“Is this too much, Chlo? Should we…” Beca let out a sigh full of exasperation and what almost sounded like regret. “I don’t know the process here,” she laughed. “I don’t get if there’s something we should be doing, or if there’s like a grace period between being official and sleeping together, or seeing each other naked or-”

Chloe had seen the nerves getting to Beca from a mile off, and had already clambered over the bed, wearing only her bra–one Beca hadn’t decided to steal–,her underwear and tights. The hug that she wrapped her new girlfriend in was full of mirth, Chloe having to hide her laughter in the smooth brown locks beneath her. Beca struggled to wrangle even a loose shirt over her head with her shoulder being occupied by one laughing redhead.

“Becs, don’t worry about anything. I’ve already seen you nude, and you’ve seen all this!” Chloe laughed, shaking her body as she hugged Beca. “And if that’s something we aren’t ready for, I don’t care. We have all the time in the world, because I am never letting you escape again! Besides, I think it’s time I came to see this fancy L.A place you’ve been bragging about.” Beca chuckled, trying to shove Chloe off and attempting (but failing) to hide her smile.

“You’re really ok if we just talk and drink tonight?”

“Even if it was the rest of our lives.” Chloe whispered. She kissed Beca’s cheek, leaving a faint trace of her lip gloss on her pale skin. Beca’s hand ghosted over the spot, gently swiping it as if the imprint of her girlfriend’s lips could be saved and turned into art. “But to be clear…”

“No I am not gonna withhold sex forever, Chlo, promise. I just…I have things I want to talk about before we go back to our lives. And there are some things that might, I don’t know- change things. Like, okay,” she turned around, feeling a chill start to creep into the room, “you would not be the first girl I dated.”

“Okay.” The revelation hit Chloe rather hard, like she’d forgotten to look both ways on the highway that was their dating lives. “Well you know mine, so spill. I wanna know which Hollywood hottie managed to snag you before I did.” Chloe lay on her stomach, legs kicked back like she was holding a landline and gabbing with moms around the neighbourhood. Beca rolled her eyes, taking a deep sigh. “You want to take a shot first too, come on! Unless…” she gasped dramatically. “Were you under an NDA?” She managed to draw a laugh out of Beca.

“No. I wasn’t under NDA but we were kinda keeping it secret since people didn’t know we were dating.”

“Well I’m curious but don’t wanna like out anybody just to answer.” Chloe held up her hands in defence. “Seriously don’t tell me you dated like J-Law or something or I will freak, and throw you out that window.”

“In my pyjamas, Chlo? I’d freeze to death before I made it to the ground. Don’t you wanna get some on too, by the way?”

“Don’t change the subject, Beca! Was it Jennifer Lawrence?”

All Chloe got was another sigh; it looked like it was starting to become Beca’s default face around questions about fame.

“It was Courtney Alise.”

“The blonde detective from ‘Breaker Files’?! Beca, that’s huge! Why the hell didn’t you tell me sooner? You know I love that show,” Chloe squealed. “But wait, she’s already out-,”

“I wasn’t though!” Beca said quickly, her tone sharp enough that Chloe knew she’d touched an actual nerve. She took a moment to collect herself and fold her arms tighter than a burrito. “I would have told you about the girl in a heartbeat if you already knew I was gay. But I wanted to tell you in person. You deserved to know that. And calling you while I was dating some other girl to tell you that you were right- that I should have experimented with you in college? It didn’t feel like the right time. So, yeah, I was with Courtney for like two months.”

“How did you even meet?” Chloe calmed herself, seeing how vulnerable Beca had made herself, and she had kept digging in. She sat back and claimed a pillow as she dived under the covers and invited her to join.

“Well,” Beca settled into the swathes of the warm duvet, feeling Chloe’s leg brush against hers which sent a shiver down her spine. “Remember the musical episode a few weeks ago?” Chloe nodded. It had been a smash hit, one of the best episodes to date and introduced a fan favourite CSI guy who was beloved in the online circles. “Well the producer wanted to get some insight and talk about the right usage for a few songs under the label, and he brought Courtney with him to talk about adding her vocals in post. We met whilst the boys were talking shop, and well, hit it off.”

“Whoa.” Chloe was stunned into silence. That so many things could change so fast for someone as talented as Beca sounded so alien, yet she knew without a doubt that she deserved it. “Does she have a better voice than me?” She heard the timidness in her own voice and could immediately feel the cogs whirring in Beca’s mind, ready for taunting, but strangely–or perhaps not–Chloe didn’t care.

“Most people would ask if she was as hot or as rich or something, but alright,” Beca smirked. She was clearly having a bit more fun at Chloe’s expense, like with the whole ‘bra in public thing’ and damn it, she was going to let her as long as she kept staring at her with those sparkly, devious eyes. “No, I don’t enjoy anyone’s voice more than yours, Chlo,” Chloe knew she was blushing. She sat back, leaning against the pillow even more, relaxing into their company.

“Hey, you okay?” Beca asked her after a few minutes of silent contemplation, in which Chloe had let her hand snake underneath the covers and claim Beca’s, which she had not let go of since. “Did you want a refill?” she asked, nodding towards Chloe’s glass on the nightstand. She shook her head.

“I have to confess something.”

“There’s a sentence that always ends well…” Beca murmured, her hand clenching even tighter around Chloe’s under the covers. She didn’t mind that, in fact it almost helped settle her nerves. “Go on.”

It was one thing to tell Beca that she had been awake and listening to a conversation she shouldn’t, but it was another when she was pretty sure that conversation was the reason Beca was in London with her, and not spending the holidays with her dad back in Barden.

“So when you were in the bathroom yesterday, I woke up and heard you on the phone.” She saw Beca’s face drop slightly, but she remained attentive and still held Chloe’s hand, squeezing it like a stress toy. “I heard most of the conversation you had with your dad. I really wanted to ask if everything was ok, but I didn’t want to pry.”

“What changed?”

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully, blowing a long strand of red hair out of her face. “I guess I’d feel bad going into a new relationship and Christmas day without telling you every truth I’ve got.”

“Really, that’s the only thing you’re keeping from me?”

“Surprised?”

“Relieved, I guess.” Beca regained the uplift in her lips. “I think if it was me, I’d probably have said nothing. Too embarrassed. Especially since you don’t actually know what that chat I had with him was about.”

“You and him are on the outs again?”

“If it’s not one thing with him, it’s the next. He…” Beca looked to deflate, so Chloe crawled over, wrapping her arms around her neck as if it could protect her from whatever issue Dr Mitchell had decided to prod at. “He doesn’t think it’s a good idea for me to date women. Not that he’s homophobic or anything, but apparently it sets a precedent for women in the music industry that all new edgy artists are encouraged to have a ‘hook’ and mine is gonna be that I’m a raging lesbian.”

“Professor Mitchell, who says “whoopsie” when he spills a drink, called you a ‘raging lesbian’.”

“Well I might be paraphrasing or something, but the point remains, he doesn’t want me seeing you.”

“Me? As in specifically me?”

“As in he wants me to stay hidden in my fucking closet until I’ve gathered enough traction to be more than just ‘The Gay One’ or something. It’s…” another sigh left Beca’s mouth. “It’s just tiring, Chlo. And I love you too much to listen to that stupid advice.”

“Love you too, Becs. Although, I do have one last question.” Beca looked on, waiting for some more deep inquiries into their new dynamic. “Where is my red bra?”

Beca rolled over and grabbed the pillow, smacking into Chloe’s head lazily, prompting her to do the same, until it was a full on pseudo-wrestling match. Beca let her get some good shots in, but she could tell that there was no stopping the immovable object that was her best friend on a revenge mission.

“Why do you even want that thing? You don’t think I should keep it?”

“Not like it will fit you, babe!” Chloe laughed, earning a scandalised squeak in return.

“Well we can’t all have perfect tits like yours, sweetie. Speaking of…” Chloe could only watch as if the world was in slow motion as Beca’s lips pursed together and started to trail kisses down the neckline of the shirt. She felt her skin start to burn, her chest heating up like it was a bonfire on the fourth of July. “You want to take that off for me?” The way Chloe’s heart began to beat in her chest could have been studied by science, the way it shook as Beca stared down, biting her lip.

“Babe, I’ve been waiting for you to say that to me for five fucking years,” Chloe growled. It would certainly be an eventful Christmas eve, she knew that for a fact.

Chloe’s skin stuck to the covers which had been hastily pulled up over them after the previous night’s activities. It hit her; Christmas Eve activities! Which meant that it was-

“Merry Christmas! Good morning babe!” Chloe crooned, peppering the still-trying-to-act-sleepy face with kisses that she knew Beca could not ignore. With a low groan, Beca sat up, rubbing her eyes and not bothering to cover her chest. Apparently, both of them had been wine-drunk, hot and preoccupied enough to forgo sleeping in any semblance of clothes on Christmas Eve- though she was sure it had been well into the morning when they had actually fallen into each other’s arms and snored.

She decided she did not mind Beca’s position at all, taking the opportunity to grab her around the middle and tackle her to the mattress.

“You want to fight again? Do you need me to remind you I won?”

“Or did I let you win so you’d get on top of me?” They both knew damn well that Beca could have pinned her down with one arm all night. Chloe was strong, but ‘Instagram-mirror-flexing-selfie’ strong, not ‘carrying around two laptops, speakers, headphones and a miniature mixing deck in my bag all day’ strong. It seemed Beca wanted to let sleeping dogs lie, and let Chloe bend down to kiss her gently.

“Good morning and merry Christmas to you too, Chlo. What a way to wake up,” she smirked as she admired the soft curves that gradually got off her and let her up.

“Well, I aim to please, Becs. And from what I can remember hearing last night, you were extremely pleased.” She waggled her eyebrows as she stretched and slipped one of their shirts on. “I hope we didn’t keep our neighbours up.”

“Chlo, your room was one of them and the other is a cleaner’s closet. I hardly think the mops are gonna care that one of us is a bit of a screamer. I certainly didn’t mind.” Beca’s smile looked like it was attached to her face with the strongest glue in the world as she turned to face Chloe. It really had been one of the best nights they’d ever spent together, mainly because the last time they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms was after Chloe got the news her grandmother died and couldn’t make it on any immediate flights out of New York to see her family. Beca had held her close then, and although by that point, she was already deeply in love with her, Chloe had fallen deeper and deeper into the endless rabbit hole that was Beca Mitchell’s heart.

“So… Christmas morning. We made it.”

“Yeah, yeah we did.” Beca drew the drapes on the large windowed door and saw a bright blue sky with snow still latched onto roofs and sidewalks. “Come here,” she held her arms out like a deity, waiting for her to come into her embrace. Chloe walked forward, the cold carpet on the floor soothed by the loving heat flowing through her veins. Beca’s arms were soft and inviting, but she felt the younger girl melt into her, finally able just to be herself. They looked out together over the narrow streets, able to see the impending snow cloud on the horizon. She kissed the top of her bead.

“Thanks, Becs. For all of this. This holiday, the reconnection, the awesome sex.”

“Well you might have a few things left to thank me for that aren’t orgasms…” she said back, neck nestled in Chloe’s shoulder. “I love you, Chloe.”

“That’s enough for me on any day, Christmas or not.”