#dr. mitchell

Beca has always been a more reserved, hard to get to, too sarcastic for most people, opinionated person, and for as long as he have known her struggled to obtain lasting friendships, and so when he had challenged her to join a club- indirectly asking her to try, just once more- to put herself out there and make some genuine connections with people that may be able to help her with things throughout her life that she wouldn’t go to him for, and now seeing her actually interacting and socializing and laughing and making the most out of her college experience with those people, he can feel himself swell with parental pride, satisfaction, love, a gentle coating of soothing warmth settling throughout his body making him take another sip from the drink in his hand.

He doesn’t go out to meet them, or wave or make an acknowledgement of any kind- even though it’s been around a quarter of an hour since he had first caught glimpse of their bundled up figures- because he knows that Beca would roll her eyes and scoff and try to get herself and her company to move elsewhere, out of his line of sight. He knows this, but isn’t hurt by it- or rather, tells himself not to- because he understands her less than amiable feelings towards him and has come to terms to them, even if that means seeing his only child be happy and thriving and not being able to a take part in it. He knows these things, and that is why he is standing in front of an inch of glass separating the two of them, quietly drinking his coffee, fogging up his glasses, instead of out there under the cool winter air.

Beca is building a snowman with Chloe- she had been a wonderful student last spring semester- and from even where he is standing he can tell that Beca is pouting her mask of reluctance, her eyebrows just a little bunched and her movements just a little overly exaggerated, her winter coat just a little baggy on her small frame. He watches as Chloe reaches down to gather up more snow, looking around to say something to the rest of the Bellas before standing up again to add to the struggling ball acting as a head, her excitement palpable in her very distinctive blue eyes as she pats the bundle down. Beca could be easily seen rolling her own eyes skywards but with a peeking smile tugging on her lips as she moves to help Chloe with the shape, before moving her mouth in a question that is answered with an enthusiastic nod.

He follows his daughter as she steps around the activity that she was most likely dragged into towards a leafless tree, bending down onto her knees to gather up some reasonably sized rocks and a couple branches, tucking them into her pockets as well as the underside of her arms, the flurries landing on her head quickly disappearing before it could make a full appearance in her dark locks. He takes another drink from his cup, the caffeine barely holding a candle to the way he’s hyper focused on the way Beca straightens to her feet to march back to her friends, to the way she offers the branches to Chloe to stick it into the body of the snowman. 

He notices the beam Chloe gives her as well as the shrug she makes in reply, the dismissal of the praise spectacularly played off if not for the lingering stare borne into Chloe’s side as soon as she turns away.

It doesn’t take a professional degree to see the affection in an individual’s body language, let alone parental instinct; Dr. Mitchell is pretty certain that anyone within a ten mile radius can pick up on the radiating signal.

An insistent buzzing on the inside of his right back pocket draws his attention, his cup going from one hand to another as he fishes his cell phone out from his slacks. A familiar name flashes across the screen only for a few seconds afterwards before the device is lifted to the side of his face.

“Hello?” His wife greets, her voice the first that he has heard in the better part of an hour, “Are you still at campus?”

“Yes,” he is already trained onto Beca engaging in an interesting conversation full of heated gestures with a tall brunette student, “I still have about a dozen or so more papers to go for this class before I can comfortably leave for the evening. Are you off work?”

“I am,” keys can be heard on their way to a flat surface, “I just got back from the meeting and wanted to call before I jump in the shower.”

“Ah,” he can tell that he sounded absentminded but he couldn’t bring himself to give much thought when his mind is already occupied with thinking about what possibly could make Beca shove playfully at the brunette while just a minute earlier they were in the middle of a verbal fight, “How did it go?”

“Well, Jack was kind of impatient when I told him that my project wasn’t quite ready yet but other than that-“

He laughs, cutting Sheila off, because Chloe had just taken off her scarf and wrapped it around Beca and Beca is resembling a wide eyed, lovesick puppy while she stands there stock still letting herself get wrapped and tied and tucked, her face pink and flushed and her friends all snickering behind her back, Chloe giving one last tug of her daughter’s zipper up to her neck before patting her cheeks, Beca immediately ducking her head to readjust the multi colored scarf till it covered from her neck all the way up to her nose and hid her embarrassment as soon as Chloe’s hands left her skin. He can see- can observe- the soft change of Chloe’s expression as she watches Beca give a salute of thanks whilst walking away to the friend that she had been talking with earlier, can observe the way Chloe smiles almost adoringly as said friend tells Beca a joke that is amusing enough to warrant a doubled over laughing fit.

“Oh, the naive youth.”

“What?” Shelia asks, her puzzlement enough to make him chuckle once more, “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” he responds, finally pulling away from the animated scene playing several feet away from him, setting down his now empty cup on top of a napkin next to his laptop and settling back into his chair, “I wasn’t talking about anything at all.” Then he smiles, rubbing a hand across the scruff on his chin as he thinks about the laughter in his daughter’s face, “Do you want me to ask Beca to come over for dinner again this weekend? I have a feeling that she will say yes this time, maybe even bring along a new... friend.”

Beca’s stepmom gasps in excitement down the line, her meeting and her boss’s disapproval long forgotten, “Oh gosh, really? Yes of course you can ask her! I would love to have her over for some chowder and a chat this Saturday! I could go over to the grocery store right now and get some more seasoning and potatoes and-”

And he listens, and nods, even though there is nobody else in the room, because that’s what he does and being happy for someone- several people, sometimes- else doesn’t mean that he has to shout it from the rooftops or make a grand gesture for that person to notice. As long as he knows it and Beca is still happy without his interference- which has a chance of rippling the peaceful stillness of the film, even just a tad- he is fine with that.

An echo of his daughter’s giggles as he pushes her high towards the clouds in a swing in a public park when she was five years old reaches his ears, the sound clear and white as the snow presently falling all around him, and his throat clears to rid itself of the sudden lump. 

Fine. He is more than fine with all of it.