Every Day [Bechloe Fan Fiction]

5) The One Where Friends Are Made

"Bea, hurry up and eat your breakfast! We're gonna be so late!" Beca cried, hurrying her daughter along.

After all the excitement of last night, she had forgotten to set her alarm. It would be a minor miracle if she got Beatrice in on time.

"I'm hurrying!" Beatrice whined back, scowling. "I only just sat down!"

"Well eat on the go!" Beca chucked the girl two slices of toast before yanking Beatrice's school bag onto her own shoulder. "Come on, you can eat in the car."

Beca was so busy rushing around and trying to ignore her child's aggravated mutterings, that she didn't realise what she had forgotten.

"Teeth, shoes, bag, homework, breakfast, child..." She mumbled to herself as she held the kitchen door open for Beatrice to leave.

"Hey, what's all the kerfuffle about?" An exhausted voice asked from the doorway. Beca promptly jumped out of her skin and clasped her hand to her chest.

"Geez, Amy!" She cried, gasping.

"It's, like, eight thirty in the morning," Amy continued like nothing had happened.

"I know, Amy." Beca huffed in exasperation. "It's also a school day, and we're late."

"Oh," Fat Amy replied matter-of-factly. "Guess we should get going then."

Much to Beca's dismay, Amy wandered out the house and into the car, sitting comfortably in the backseat next to Beatrice, while still wearing the clothes she slept in. Beca felt her knees go slightly weak and she pushed her head into her hand.

"Oh god," she groaned. It was going to be one hell of a day.

After dropping Beatrice off at school, Beca drove Fat Amy to the train station. Fat Amy looked at her sharply, her face a mixture of hurt and confusion.

The building loomed over the car. Bustling commuters swarmed around them, trying to start their very busy, very important days. Beca watched them as they went by, trying not to look at Fat Amy.

"You want me to go?" Fat Amy asked, her voice higher than normal.

She appeared stressed, looking worriedly from the station to Beca as she twiddled her fingers. Beca felt her guilty skyrocket.

"Yes, Fat Amy," Beca said softly. She couldn't bring herself to look up from the steering wheel. "I want you to go."

"Why?" Fat Amy's voice cracked, her eyes filling with tears.

Beca felt sick with guilt, tears springing into her own eyes. She couldn't believe that she was hurting her old best friend like this. But it was for the best.

"Because you're unsettling Bea," she whispered. "This isn't good for her. You have to go."

"I am not!" Fat Amy cried, looking up in alarm. "She told me she likes having me around!"

Beca cursed inwardly. Now what? She didn't have another reason. Not one she would willingly give.

"Beca, what's really going on? Your daughter does like me, I know she does." Fat Amy insisted, looking imploringly at Beca.

Beca grabbed all the dirty dishes from the table, feeling relieved with how dinner had gone. Fat Amy and Beatrice thanked her as she left to put them in the dishwasher.

"Since when could Beca Mitchell cook?" Fat Amy asked Beatrice with a chuckle.

"Oh, she can't," Beatrice laughed right back. "Our neighbours cook for us or she buys ready-meals!" Fat Amy burst out laughing, grinning.