Summary: Beca is straight as an arrow. 100%, totally, completely straight. Except for one problem that 100%, totally, completely changes everything: Chloe Beale.
Title borrowed from Calum Scott’s “If Our Love Is Wrong.”
Word Count: 1.5k
Rating: M (for dark themes, homophobia, masturbation, and eventual smut in later chapters)
AO3, FFN, and below the cut.
I decided to post both chapters 24 and 25 today, rather than waiting until Monday to post 25 because it’s so short. Also, a Monday seems like a weird day to end a fic. Idk.
So, this is it! Thank you so, so much for reading and joining Beca and Chloe on this journey. The support I had on this fic was PHENOMENAL. I know it wasn't always a happy fic, but it wasn't always sad, either. I hope Beca and Chloe's experiences and struggles have been relatable and that this fic resonated with you in some way.
Finally, big, massive, enormous THANK YOU to @acabellas, because really, without her this fic wouldn't exist. I mean it. You're the best.
Eighteen Months Later
Beca’s favorite thing in the world is coming home to Chloe.
The apartment they share with Amy is small – much, much too small for the three of them. Amy refuses to either help pay for a two-bedroom apartment or give up the double bed, meaning Beca and Chloe have to share the pull-out couch. They use a clothes rack as a bathroom door. Their neighbors upstairs stomp around and have noisy sex. A lot. The whole place smells kinda musty. The pipes rattle and gurgle noisily at all hours, only one of the windows opens fully, it takes forever to get hot water, the stairs are steep and death-defying, and Beca’s 94% sure there are mice.
She wouldn’t change a single thing.
(Well. Except maybe the mice.)
This is the home she shares with Chloe and Amy, and she loves it.
Beca turns her key in the lock, home slightly later than usual because of her stop at the store. The stress of her day rolls off her shoulders as soon as she swings the door open, the smells and sights of their apartment blanketing her. Amy’s gone for the night, out on a date with Bumper, and Beca’s looking forward to the rare alone time with Chloe.
She steps from the hallway directly into their kitchen, drinking in the sight of Chloe standing at the stove, her back to the door. Her hair, still slightly damp and a shade darker than usual from her typical post-internship shower, cascades down her back in waves. She pokes at something sizzling in a pan on the stove, leaning over the counter edge in thought.
The corners of Beca’s mouth lift; it smells like Chloe might have burnt whatever she’s cooking again, but she doesn’t mind. She knows Chloe is trying her hardest, and that she loves cooking for them, so Beca’s not about to complain.
Closing the door behind herself with a click, Beca drops her bag on the floor and sidles up behind Chloe to wrap her arms around her waist and press a kiss to the side of her neck. Chloe hums with joy and looks up from the slightly charred green beans in the pan, turning her face to meet Beca’s lips in a soft kiss.
They share details of their day – Chloe’s arms freshly adorned with cat scratches and Beca’s ears freshly filled with vocal riffs from the latest rising artist – while Beca sets the table. She fills Chloe’s glass with the wine she bought and pours herself an equal amount. When Chloe asks why she’s late, Beca shrugs and blames it on drama queen recording artists.
The buzzer on the stove goes off, and Chloe whisks the pan of green beans and the accompanying ravioli and sauce over to the tiny table in the center of the room. Beca takes her usual chair, which, given the size of the table, allows her to rest her hand on Chloe’s thigh.
Beca can tell Chloe spent more time on dinner than usual; the ravioli is only slightly undercooked, and the sauce is seasoned well. The green beans are charred in places, but Beca likes to think it gives them a nice smoky flavor. As she raises her forkful of them to her lips, ignoring the slight crunch of her first bite, Chloe smiles at her so happily that it makes Beca’s heart ache, full of affection for the wonderful person in front of her.
As they eat, Beca’s stomach flutters with nerves, but she keeps eating the dinner Chloe had made them; she knows – or at least, she’s pretty sure – everything will be okay. They talk about their weekend plans, movies they might want to see, and new restaurants they want to try. Chloe talks about a new kitten brought into her clinic today. As she does, though her eyes gleam with happiness, Beca notices that she pushes around the food on her plate more than she eats it, and the thigh that Beca isn’t touching keeps bouncing up and down.
When they’ve both eaten their fill, they rise from the table in tandem, taking their dishes to the sink and putting away the leftovers. Chloe debates just throwing out the burnt green beans, a crease between her eyebrows, but Beca assures her that they were delicious and passes her a container to put the remaining ones in. It’s a white lie, but it’s worth it when the lines between Chloe’s brows turn into a soft smile around her lips.
It’s not until Chloe shoots Beca a wink and pulls out a double-chocolate cake from its hiding spot in a cupboard that Beca even realizes there’s dessert. Beca smiles so widely that she knows Amy would make fun of her for it if she were home, but Beca doesn’t care. It’s her favorite cake and Chloe knows it. Chloe bites her lip anxiously as Beca takes a bite of the first slice. The cake is a tad dry and there isn’t quite enough frosting; Beca loves every bite because Chloe made it for her, and she tells her so.
Beaming, Chloe digs into her own slice of cake. Beca watches carefully as she continues eating, waiting for the right time. Her own hands have started to shake, so she grips her fork more tightly and hopes that Chloe doesn’t notice.
Finally, when the last bite of cake has been cleared from Chloe’s plate, Beca shifts in her chair. She reaches into the front pocket of her jeans, fingers trembling, feeling the cool metal band she’d picked up from the jewelry store before coming home.
As she extracts it from her pocket, the stone catches on the fabric of her jeans; she fumbles, and it slips from her fingers, bouncing off the tiled floor of the kitchen with a tiny ping. Face burning, she dives under the table, bumping its edge as she drops, causing their dishes to rattle. She scans the floor frantically until she sees it, the glimmer of the small diamond set into a titanium band catching the evening light.
Beca picks up the ring, cursing herself inwardly, and pops up from the floor to settle back into her chair, an apology on her lips.
Chloe stares at her, eyes wide with surprise and lips parted, hand outstretched. Beca glances down automatically, where, held between Chloe’s fingers is an almost identical titanium band with a diamond set into it.
Beca stares at the engagement ring in stunned disbelief, then looks back to Chloe’s face. Chloe’s eyes are focused on the ring Beca holds in her own hand.
A shaky laugh escapes Beca’s lips, regaining Chloe’s attention. The huge smile that breaks over Chloe’s face – in addition to her watering eyes – pull Beca closer to her like a magnet.
“Did we…” she breathes.
Chloe nods. “We did.”
Beca grins back unabashedly, love and happiness inflating her chest like a balloon. “Chloe? Will you marry me, please?” she whispers, hearing the slight tremor in her voice.
“Yes,” Chloe replies instantly. “Will you marry me?” she asks, nudging the ring she holds forward.
“Yeah,” Beca huffs, her throat tight. “Might as well make it official.”
“Aca-awesome.”
Her fingers still trembling – though now from excitement – Beca reaches forward and lifts Chloe’s left hand, sliding the ring onto Chloe’s finger. Chloe does the same for her a moment later, her touch combined with the metal band sending tingles down Beca’s arm and into her spine.
Beca takes a moment to admire their matching rings, their hands side-by-side. They look good. The ring, though new on her hand, feels familiar, as though it’s always belonged there.
Beca looks up into her favorite pair of blue eyes and says, “There. I’m nobody’s but yours.”
