(I took a brief intermission from working on my main fic to do a one-shot; I’ve seen a few people lately craving Bechloe married domestic fluff, and I’ve been feeling the same way, so I couldn’t resist the urge!)
Locking up her studio for the night, Beca pockets the key and heads across the back yard to the house. She comes in through the kitchen, finding it empty and silent this late in the evening. Checking the clock, she feels a slight twinge of guilt when she sees it’s past eight. Usually, despite the temptation of her equipment just a few steps away on the same property, she doesn’t allow herself to go back to work after dinner. (Or rather, Chloe doesn’t allow her to go back to work after dinner.) But with so many deadlines looming this week she’s had to make some exceptions.
She crosses the back hallway and peeks into the family room. Chloe is nowhere in evidence, but their daughter, Violet, is sitting on the plush area rug in the middle of the room, clutching her favorite blanket, staring at the TV and absorbed in what looks like a car insurance commercial featuring a talking monkey.
Beca steps quietly through the doorway and sneaks up closer, then crouches down a few feet behind her, still unnoticed. “Boo,” she says, but in a soft voice so as not to actually scare her.