Their first apartment is nothing extravagant. Quite the opposite, actually. Chloe says it has charm. Beca argues that those aren't 'charm' stains on the ceiling. Whatever, it's not perfect, but it's theirs.

It's basically one open area with a bathroom stuffed into a closet. There's a kitchen that is just big enough to warm up leftovers in and a bed hidden away from the rest of the apartment by a curtain, giving them at least the illusion of privacy. Not that anyone really visits them. Amy is the only one within regular visiting distance, but she's surprisingly busy for someone who doesn't have a job, and so they don't find themselves entertaining very often.

It's nice. Peaceful, for the most part. Sometimes Beca will be cranky when she gets home from the studio or Chloe will be upset after having to put an animal to sleep at work. It's hard not to bring the kind of work they do home with them, but that's life. Their life. And neither would have it any other way.

Their paychecks aren't fabulous, but they cover the bills every month and are usually left with a little left over for themselves. Enough for a date night here and there.

Not enough to buy a new table - the one they got from Beca's mom is fine but one of the legs is slightly shorter than the other three, and it rocks everytime they put anything on it - or afford cable, but they have the internet thanks to Beca's job hooking them up. It is somewhat of a necessity, after all.

They don't have any kind of seating except for the two stools at the table, though. So, when Chloe arrives home to find a cosy loveseat squished in between the kitchen and makeshift bedroom area, it raises her eyebrows.

"Which body part did you sell?"

"What?" Beca blinks owlishly at Chloe's question, slipping off the arm of the couch where she'd been perched. "Oh. What? No! No, no." Then she's shaking her head and waving her hands dismissively in front of her. "I didn't sell anything."

"Good," Chloe grins, stepping further into the apartment and reaching out towards Beca with her hands. "Because I like all your parts." She wiggles her fingers, silently beckoning Beca closer, and her girlfriend happily complies, taking hold of her hands as Chloe pulls her in for a quick kiss. "How did you afford this?"

"Dude," Beca begins, her tone indicating that there some kind of surprising or unbelievable story to follow. "Someone just left it on the curb outside!"

Chloe's face falls.

"You…" Chloe blinks at her as Beca walks back over to the couch. "You brought a trash couch into our apartment?"

"It isn't a trash couch!" Beca scolds her, but she does so quietly it's as if she's afraid the couch might hear their conversation and suddenly get up on its legs and leave because it, "knows when I'm not wanted."

"Beca-"

"No, no. Just- just look at it! Does it look like a trash couch?" Beca gestures frantically towards the piece of furniture and Chloe gives in, finally taking a good look at it.

She has to admit, it really doesn't look bad at all. There's a tear on one of the arms but it's not anything a patch or a blanket can't fix. The cushions look plush and it had seemed sturdy enough for Beca to sit on. Still, Chloe narrows her eyes.

"There has to be a reason someone tossed it out." Her point falls on deaf ears, though.

"Maybe we live close to people who have way more money than us and can upgrade furniture." Beca feigns a gasp, widening her eyes like the thought is one that's truly shocking, and Chloe chuckles. Because her girlfriend is a dork.

"You're a dork." And she's not afraid to tell her that.

"Yeah, but I'm a dork that got you a couch. For free." Beca's about two seconds away from 'cocky gloating mode' when they hear it.

A scuffling, scratching sound that starts out faint, but quickly grows in volume. Chloe's eyes dart to the couch, then to Beca, who is staring at the loveseat with something akin to horror as the scratching sound seems to double, then triple.

And then comes the squeaking.

Which is quickly followed by screaming, as a rat slithers out from between the couch cushions.

And it's a surprise to the two of them, but Beca's mom's table manages to hold both their weight.

"You're right," Chloe all but growls in Beca's direction. "It's not a trash couch, it's a rat couch!"

"How was I supposed to know?!" Beca's face is red and her eyes are wild, and now there are three rats in their apartment.

"Always assume that there's something wrong with anything that's been left sitting out in the street, Beca!"

In the end, they have to call Amy over for help. She lets herself in with a key they didn't know she had and takes one look at them awkwardly balanced on top of the table and bursts into laughter, before breathlessly asking for a bucket and a broom.