#captainpeachperfect

Instead, there’s something that just tugs at every nerve in her body as she lies on her side, watching the flutter of Chloe’s eyelids and the way her kiss-swollen lips part in a breathless exhale.

There’s something in the early Saturday morning moment that Beca feels emanating from within their bodies. It’s not quite the residual heat echoing between them through the languid sighs Beca can hear and the content smile stretching across Chloe’s lips. It’s not quite the draft from the slightly open window, pleasant for Los Angeles if Beca’s being honest. It’s not even the way Chloe has somehow tugged about seventy-five per cent of their blankets over most of her own body.

It’s in the way Beca still feels like she’s catching her breath. It’s in the way she feels pleasant and warm all over, largely thanks to Chloe. It’s in the way they’re lying face to face, sharing a pillow, and just gazing at each other through half-lidded eyes. It’s in the blue against blue, being unquestionably in love, and just basking in an afterglow.

Beca drags her fingers along the soft skin of Chloe’s upper arm, trailing up shoulder slowly - so slowly - and watches as Chloe’s eyes flutter closed again. A small lingering flush grows more prominent across her cheekbones and neck. She trails her fingers repeatedly in swirls across Chloe’s skin and tries to memorize the expressions and facial twitches that her girlfriend displays with each touch to her skin. It’s feather-light, but each movement and brush of skin makes Beca’s toes curl; makes Beca’s heart pound.

“C’mere,” she rasps, unable to resist. Chloe obliges, lips already parted and ready for Beca’s kiss, tender and slow, yet imbued with the desperation and longing of their unexpected wake-up activities. Chloe’s fingers tangle into Beca’s hair, pulling her further into her orbit, as she always has and probably always will do.

If Beca had been planning on something, it was that she had been planning on waiting, really.

But there’s something she can’t quite shake as she pulls back slightly, her breath huffs across Chloe’s chin, dislodging a strand of hair delicately; but there’s a haziness in Chloe’s eyes and the way her hair messily sprawls across the rumbled fabric of their pillowcase; but Chloe slides her own hand from under the sheet to brush against Beca’s chin, then swipes her thumb over Beca’s lip, rubbing the slightly swollen flesh gently -

“Marry me,” Beca whispers before pressing a slow, tender kiss to Chloe’s thumb which has stilled just over lips. She takes the opportunity to grab Chloe’s hand to kiss the palm and brings it in close, tucking it against her chest. She marvels that somehow Chloe’s hand is persistently cool to the touch and shivers as it presses against her own warm skin. She lets Chloe feel the pounding of her heart; she lets Chloe feel the reality of her love for her.

“What?” Chloe asks, morning rasp still present; morning rasp still sending a thrill up Beca’s spine. Her eyes are marginally more alert.

Beca isn’t one for many words when they don’t feel necessary, but Chloe manages to pull them out of her no matter what.

“I love you,” Beca says instead. “Will you marry me?”

“I -” Chloe stumbles. “I love you, too,” she says with nothing but pure honesty, eyes wide and locked onto Beca’s. “I –“ She chokes.

Beca doesn’t have a grand speech planned, or at least – there’s not one she’s prepared for this very moment.

(And yet, nothing has felt more important than this moment, as if everything has led to this moment, Beca thinks.)

If she did have one planned, it’d be something along the lines of her detailing the ways in which Chloe makes her feel complete and whole, even on her worst days. She’d talk about the myriad of blues she can see in Chloe’s eyes – losing herself in veritable of oceans of love, desire, and unrestrained happiness. She counts herself blessed to be loved by Chloe, let alone for the past three years of unadulterated happiness.

If she did have a speech planned, she’d talk about how she doesn’t want to imagine what life without Chloe would be because she doesn’t want to imagine life without pure sunshine, daily musical performances, and having an absolute angel by her side to help her fight her demons.

If she did have a speech planned, she’d talk about the many ways Chloe smiles at her, kisses her, makes love to her – all the ways in which Chloe loves Beca with every inch of her being.

But she doesn’t have a huge speech planned because it sticks somewhere in the middle of her chest as she props herself further up on her elbow. Beca watches as tears well up in Chloe’s eyes and thinks about all the ways in which she’s desperately tried to make herself better for Chloe too; thinks about how she wants Chloe to always to feel safe and warm; thinks about how Chloe is beautiful inside and out and she never wants her to forget that fact about herself.

“Chlo,” she says quietly. Firmly. “Marry me. Please.”

Chloe is nodding and all but twisting her limbs around Beca in a tight, trembling hug. “Yes,” she whispers, half her face buried in Beca’s neck.

She does have a ring, amidst all the lack of planning. She twists uncomfortably so that she can roll herself (and Chloe) over and reach into her bedside table. She rifles through the stacks of folders she used to cover it up – it being a small, completely recognizable, and cliché blue box.

Chloe catches sight of it immediately and buries her face back into Beca’s neck. “Oh my god,” she mumbles, pressing her fingers into Beca’s shoulder before she’s squirming away and covering her face with her hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“So that was a yes, right?” Beca asks because she has to be sure; because her throat feels tight with emotion and she’s about to start crying.

“Absolutely,” Chloe whispers. She drags her hands down her face and blows strands of unruly hair out of her face. “Oh my god,” she repeats.

Beca carefully (carefully because she’s trying not tremble) lifts Chloe’s hand and gently slides the ring onto her finger.

“Beca,” Chloe utters. She doesn’t say anything more because she’s gazing at the ring adorning her finger with awe and love shining in her eyes. Her gaze doesn’t last long though because she’s looking back at Beca with the entire world in her eyes.

Beca thinks there’s something poetic about how she never planned to stay at Barden, never planned to stay in a crappy apartment in Brooklyn, never planned to lose Chloe without even having her, never planned to kiss Chloe what feels like a lifetime ago -