A/N: I wrote this awhile ago as the beginning of a Chaubrey fic. Then I went back to edit it today, and it turned into Triple Treble.

They aren't perfect, but then again, Aubrey figures that nobody is.

Being in love with Chloe is infinite and unforgiving; once it has you, it never lets you go. They are bright lights and bar windows fogged over with rainy nights; dorm room light bulbs dim, shadowed, as they seek out truth in the dusky corners of the room. It's a small space – almost too small, because Chloe's messy, and her clothes are everywhere, but really, it's perfect. Aubrey's stopped sleeping on her side of the room long ago, because her bed is uncomfortable, and littered with Chloe's shirts, and sure, maybe the cool linen just doesn't feel the same without Chloe beside her.

Chloe always sleeps on the left side of the bed, which is perfect, because Aubrey always takes the right.

Chloe is cherries, and boysenberries, and nectarines all rolled into one. Aubrey is oceans in the sense that she is always changing, always crashing, and a tiny bit risky to love. Chloe is soft curves and bubbly babbling and squeals of delight; Aubrey is tougher, more stern, but for that even more capable of love. She just doesn't know how to take it in and breathe it out.

Just do it, Chloe always tells her. Don't think about it. And Aubrey tries – she really does. She tries to be carefree, but it's really just not her style. Maybe that's why they're such a good match. They always have been, even from the start, when Aubrey was even more high-strung and wary and unwilling to take a chance.

Chloe saved her; she drew her out of the tightly-wound, perfectionist persona she had been living with for so long and gave her freedom. At first, Aubrey didn't know how to handle it; she hadn't been used to people believing in her and showing their support for what she wanted to do. It just wasn't spoken of in her family that people were capable of having their own dreams.

Chloe gave her something to dream about.

Chloe has a way of invading personal space, and Aubrey hasn't quite figured out why she doesn't mind. Maybe it's because she's the opposite; maybe it's because it's the way she'd like, in another world, to be. Either way, they work – all in a clash of tight hugs and wild ginger hair.

And sure, there are times when Aubrey still gets stressed, when she doesn't think she can handle it anymore. But then she looks into Chloe's wide, innocent cerulean eyes and she knows that she couldn't let her go if she tried. She's in too deep now to ever let her slip out of her grasp, and it frightens her.

But she knows that she wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

The concept of trading it away, actually, is what bothers her the most. She can't imagine losing it for anything; for any reason. It's not something she considers lightly. In fact, she's woken from nightmares of it, tears streaming down her cheeks and choked sobs leaping from her throat in their darkened bedroom.

It's why, when a tiny, aggressive, alternative brunette spitfire is dragged into the mix, Aubrey temporarily regresses. She vomits for days on end, worried and panicked and unwilling to consider her options for what they really are. She cries in the night when she thinks that Chloe cannot hear, and even when she knows that the redhead is lying awake beside her, her own mind ensnared with complex thought processes that neither of them know how to stomach. A month ago, she would have sworn with perfect conviction that nothing could ever come between her and her beautiful, loving ginger goddess.

Now, for the first time in their relationship, something has come between them, but oddly enough, it's something that keeps them together instead of wrenching them apart. It's something they long for and fight for together after long nights of crying and consideration. It's a whirlwind of intense grey eyes and crooked smiles that make something deep inside her belly flutter.

Beca comes between them, but far from ripping them away from each other, her presence only serves to draw them closer together. The interruption that is Beca is dates at the coffee shop in the dead of winter, two gloved hands tucked into her own; it's warm hugs when she stumbles home from a long day of internships, and snuggles on the couch as they watch the rare movies Chloe finds that the brunette can manage to tolerate. Between is the spot in the middle of their king-size bed, one leg thrown carelessly over Chloe and an arm wrapped tightly around Aubrey's waist.

Between is good, Aubrey decides, watching her girls twirl around the living room together on a Sunday afternoon, her ginger goddess and aggressive brunette angel – between is something she can work with.