Chapter Text
Clarke woke up excited about the day ahead as she usually did. Raven had called a week ago to ask her about working with a group of teens. Clarke loved working with young people and had quickly said yes. They were so energetic and it was the highest reward when you saw they enjoyed it. Though, her good mood was short lived; on her way to work, for the 3rd time this week, she saw the tell tale signs of the anti-queer group outside her place in the morning. Clarke was a successful businesswoman, she was professional, she didn’t engage and never got angry but these people were ruining her business and starting to really piss her off. Clarke had spent days wracking her brain for something that would stop them and had come up with nothing. The police always did nothing, despite on multiple occasions the borderline harassment Clarke had received. Clarke owned an art therapy business, her space was supposed to calm people not stress them out further. Through word of mouth and Raven’s social work, a lot of LGBTQ+ people had heard she had a queer positive space, so she had a lot of queer students. Clearly the anti-queer group had caught on to this, and had decided to target her. It was working too, Clarke was losing students fast.
Clarks most recent tactic was to kill them with kindness, they knew she hated them, maybe being kind would piss them off. She walked right up to Norman; she had discovered his name last week and considered it progress.
“Good morning Norman, nice to see you again starting the day so early. Want to come inside for a cup of coffee?” Norman’s eyes grew in shock.
“I will not be having coffee with you, I see right through you you know. Your acts of pretended kindness will not stop me from saying what I want. That is my freedom of speech.”
“There’s a difference between hate speech and freedom of speech.” Clark mumbled a loud enough for him to hear. With Norman’s grunt and chin thrust, Clark went inside.
~~
“This is so stupid. Do they actually think painting is going to help cure my depression”. The boy named John Murphy had spoken the last part in a mocking tone with air quotes around it. This attitude was not new to Clarke.
“It’s not supposed to cure anything, it’s just a way to express yourself. Art is a way to bring imagination and emotion to life.”
John just shrugged and kept picking at his paint brush. She told the group about how being here, painting, drawing, or sculpting was not supposed to fix them it was just a way for them to express what they were thinking without having to tell anyone.
“I know from when I was forced into therapy, talking doesn’t always help. In fact, whenever I actually spoke up, no one understood me, or believed me for that matter. With art, you can speak a language that no one else understands and yet be understood. All people are different and the great thing about art is it comes in so many different forms.” John had gone quite. “You can do whatever you like today, you can even do nothing, but just know whatever you do here, you won’t be judged.”
After the day was done, the supplies were cleaned up and her other regulars had gone Clarke was looking forward to a night in, her, herself, and maybe some wine, when she noticed the anti-queer group had moved back onto her property. Just as she was packing up to lock up she noticed someone with their back to her and by the looks of it they were arguing with Norman. Clarke grabbed her keys and her bag and proceeded to close up, just catching the tail end of the argument.
“... Freedom of speech doesn't mean you can say whatever you want. This business here is trying to help people from the trauma people like you cause.” The stranger was speaking over the chanting of the group. Clarke was surprised by the strangers knowledge of her business, she didn’t think she had ever seen this person before.
She began to walk over to the stranger and was putting her keys away in her bag while saying “Hey, thank you for trying but I’ve already talked to these people multiple times, it’s no use.” Clarke stopped when the person turned around and she was stricken by this person's beauty, Clarke had already admired the stranger's back from afar but seeing their front was a whole ‘nother ball game. They had beautiful green eyes and amazing shadowy makeup that accent their features. And they looked angry.
“They shouldn’t be allowed to do this.” The stranger admitted, fury flashing across their beautiful green eyes. Clarke had completely forgotten the protesters, and was entranced by this beautiful stranger.
“I know, I know, they’re TECHNICALLY NOT ALLOWED ON THIS SIDEWALK.” Clarke yelled leaning to look beyond the stranger to get Norman’s attention and remind him of their earlier morning conversation. “It’s no use though, they just keep coming back. The best thing to do is walk away. Let them speak to no one.” Clarke turned away to begin to walk away and the stranger followed her. Clarke knew she was in trouble, “Which way are you going? I’ll walk with you, I’m Clarke by the way, I’m the owner of Articon.” Clarke knew she was rambling, she didn’t even know this persons name but they captivated her, she wanted to walk with them forever. The stranger chuckled, clearly amused by Clarke’s awkward flirting.
“Nice to meet you Clarke, I’m Lexa.” Lexa, finally a name to the beautiful face. “I’m walking this way, to the subway, but I probably need a longer walk than that to cool down.”
“Yeah, tell me about it, I have to work trying to help people with them yelling outside. Thank god for soundproof walls and built in stereo systems.” Clarke laughed awkwardly at herself and groaned inwardly. Lexa smiled though. Together the both of them walked in silence a little longer until they reached the subway. Lexa stopped and looked at Clarke.
“My place is just a few train stops west if you’d like to walk with me? I’m not feeling like a crowded subway car right now.” Lexa looked at Clarke with those beautiful eyes. Was Lexa flirting back? Clarke’s apartment was East but Clarke wanted to spend more time with Lexa so she nodded and held out her hand for Lexa to lead the way. “So how did you come to own Articon?” Lexa asked once they had started to walk again.
“Oh, well, do you want the short and less sad story or the full one that needs a trigger warning?” Clarke was fine with telling the story but she knew it sometimes made others uncomfortable so she often told the short gloss over story. Lexa looked at her and didn’t answer for a second.
“Whichever you’re more comfortable with sharing.” Clarke liked that Lexa had given her an option, which was probably why she decided to tell her the whole story.
“When I was 6 years old I came home to find both my parents dead on the living room floor. I think I didn’t want it to be real, so I curled up in my dad’s arms on the floor and closed my eyes. I think my school ended up being the ones to call the police. Social services took me and there was an official investigation launched. The authorities found nothing, most people thought I was the one that killed my family. I was put in foster care, but not many people wanted me, I was never the same" Clarke paused remembering that time of her life but continued, "the only people who understood and accepted me were Raven and Octavia. I was going to therapy when Raven and I got put into a home with a monster of a man. He abused us and for a long time, no one would do anything. We got out of there when we turned 18 but we would both never forget it. At a young age, I was exposed to pretentious and absolutely useless therapy. I would stay quiet and draw things with my fingers in the sand of the mini garden on the table in the therapist's office. I learned that it was better to not say anything because no one understood. Finally I started to get back into painting, it had been something my father and I did, and it’s what eventually helped me get better. I sold my paintings and worked at a coffee shop, and eventually we saved money to go to college, Raven became a social worker and I studied psychology, and fine arts. We thought up Articon a year ago, when I saw one of the people Raven was working with drawing.” Clarke trailed off. She knew she had just told almost a complete stranger her life story. She didn’t know what to think, she was so used to the story, it didn’t bother her much anymore, she barely remembered her real parents. Telling her story was like reading a book. She kept her eyes off Lexa until she felt a hand on her arm. Lexa had stopped walking and Clarke stopped along side her and finally looked up to meet her eyes.
“Clarke I’m so sorry all that happened to you, I know that doesn’t help but I’m glad you’re doing what you’re doing. Articon is an amazing thing.” Lexa’s eyes said more than any words and Clarke was not nervous, she was reassured. Lexa was genuine, she hadn’t met anyone like Lexa in a long time. They began to walk again, when Lexa continued to talk, “my sister and I were in the foster care system too. Thats where we met as well. You see her regularly, that’s how I knew about your business.” Clarke suddenly remembered Lexa yelling at the anti-queer group. Suddenly Clarke knew the stranger in front of her. They stopped walking again as Clarke gaped in probably an embarrassing fashion.
“You’re Anya’s sister.” Clarke had heard all about Lexa, she recalled a curtain instance that Anya had told her about where the two had gotten arrested at a rally for animal rights or something. Lexa was a famous writer on the internet. Clarke loved her writing. She had began to read Lexa’s blog when she was in college, of course Lexa went by a different name online.
“I am” The corner of Lexa’s lips twitched ever so slightly. Lexa continued speaking, not noticing Clarke’s star struck eyes. “Originally I had intended to come by your studio to come talk to the pretty blonde that Anya keeps telling me I have to meet, but I guess I never made it in.” Oh Lexa was definitely flirting now. Lexa, flirting with me. Clarke thought she might die.
“You’re… you’re Heda.” Clarke said, referring to Lexa’s online persona that was so famous amongst activists, feminists and queers alike. Clarke’s mind was whirling with excitement and nervousness and soon it was going to be filled with embarrassment, Clarke knew it, she knew herself.
Lexa rolled her eyes, “Anya was not supposed to tell you that, she’s ruining my mystery.” Lexa said as they continued to walk down the cold city streets. It was October, it was getting colder out, not frostbite cold like Clarke had been exposed to up North but enough that she tightened her scarf around herself and noticed Lexa’s red cheeks.
“Oh she didn’t tell me” Clarke paused remembering, “I figured it out.” she gave a bit of a smirk at her people skills. Lexa’s eyebrows curved up in curiosity.
“Oh? And how did you do that?” Lexa asked slyly.
Clarke smirked again, “Anya talks about her sister quite frequently, I noticed similarities in the stories and a curtain blog I read online.” at this Lexa’s eyes darted to Clarke.
“You read my stuff before Anya?” Clarke looked at Lexa
“Of course I did, I’ve been reading your stuff for years. You helped me a lot through college, I wrote quite a few papers on the things you said, your blog, you.” Clarke admits this reluctantly but with a hint of playfulness, hopefully to play off her creepy obsession with Lexa. And Lexa laughs at her comment.
“I’m glad I’m reaching such cool crowds.” Lexa says looking Clarke over. If Clarke had noticed, she would have blushed. Clarke can tell, maybe because she’s read everything Lexa had posted, maybe because she feels like she knows this person just after one night, that Lexa is someone who calculates what she says and can say just a few words and make them feel as though there is a chorus of meaning behind them. Clarke is not like that at all, she spews what she says without thinking and regrets it later, but she’s always been attracted to people like Lexa, composed and thoughtful, she really appreciates and admires what Lexa has to say, as both Heda and Lexa.
“Well maybe, since you didn’t make it into the studio today you could come by the studio another time.” Clarke wasn’t nervous anymore. She was excited.
“I would like that.” Lexa smiled at her.
They continued to talk all the way back to Lexa’s place, they talked more about Lexa's blog, discussed hobbies: Lexa drove a motorbike (Clarke tripped over a stick, there was definitely a stick there), experiences in the queer community: Lexa was gay (Clarke blushed), even embarrassing stories: Lexa had been outed by her grade 8 teacher when her teacher read a note she had passed out loud in front of the class (Clarke had been outed when one of her foster moms had seen a text from her ex girlfriend saying “I know you always liked when I touched myself, common Clarky, I miss you”). When they arrived at Lexa’s apartment Clarke was sad to say goodbye. They stood there, both not wanting to part yet but knowing they should, it was passed 11pm.
“We should think up something to do about that anti-queer group.” Lexa finally said after a long pause.
“Why don’t I give you my number and you can text me about coming by the studio to brainstorm.” Lexa smiled and nodded handing Clarke her cell phone as Clarke did the same. They said their goodnights and Lexa disappeared inside. Clarke had a long way back to her apartment but she didn't mind at all.
~~
Clarke spent the next few days thinking about what she could say as an excuse to text Lexa. She had texted her the day after with a picture of someone riding a motorbike with a rainbow flag attached to the back with the caption “I think I saw you riding by yesterday” despite that it was clearly a very large man. She had received a text back almost immediately that just said “Hahahah”. The only other thing she could think of was to come up with some creative way to get back at the anti-queer group. Even days later, when Raven called to tell her the group of youth all wanted to come again (including John Murphy) Clarke’s head was in the clouds. It was only momentarily pulled down when Nathan mentioned how annoying the anti-queer group was.
“They told me my boyfriend and I were going to hell and we needed help.” One of the other boys, Bryan she thought his name was grabbed Nathan’s hand.
Clarke’s mind was suddenly swirling with ideas when she said “Those protesters need to be stopped. They’re putting a kink in my vibe.” Clarke knew she hit a good one when even John smiled and rubbed his hands like an evil villain on a mission.
Clarke texted Lexa
To: Heda 12:22pm
Come to the studio today. I have an anti-anti-queer group project brewing.
To: Clarky 12:23pm
Be there in 20
Clarke smiled. “Help is on the way.”
~~
When Lexa arrived John was the first to say something, “OOOOoooo Clarke called her girlfriend.” Clarke turned bright red but Lexa just chuckled. Lexa joined the circle they had created and asked
“So what do we have so far? Any good ideas to get rid of those queerphobes?” Lexa leaned over a little to rest her elbows on her knee, doing so showed a little more of her cleavage and Clarke had to look away before she got flushed.
“Nothing so far, we’ve just come up with yelling and throwing things.” John said.
“Which we are not going to do.” Threw in Clarke just to clarify. John threw up his hands in surrender.
“We could make our own signs? Love is love kind of thing?” Harper suggested. Clarke nodded, thinking.
“That’s a good idea, block their signs so no one can read them. It has to be respectable. Something that doesn’t offend anyone but still sends the message.”
“We need an audience to really get the point across.” Monty said. Clarke nodded and looked over to see Jasper doodling flowers on the corner of his scrap paper.
“I’ve got it.” Clarke said.
~~
When they were all done they all held up their flowers. They weren’t the most realistic but dang were they cute. They would do the perfect job of covering the queerphobe’s signs. They were sweet and innocent but they were perfect for telling the group to shove it.
All they needed now was an audience and the appropriate time.
“What about posting it on social media?” Jasper suggested
“But what would we say? Come watch us fight evil with flower power?” John asked.
Clarke snorted. “That’s actually kinda perfect.”
“What about advertising a parade?” Lexa suggested. Clarke wanted to kiss her with joy.
“We could make posters and post them all over the city and social media. Completely anonymous.” Raven suggested, She had come by fully prepared to pick up the group after their day, only to stick around for the rest of the day and was totally loving it.
“Sounds good to me. Why don’t we start with the posters tomorrow? I’ll clear my schedule.” Clarke said, everyone nodded in agreement, including Lexa, who gave her a sly smile.
~~
After Raven took the youth group home, it was just Lexa and Clarke in her studio. Clarke became very aware of the messiness. Her paintings were strewn everywhere, there were jars of paintbrushes and other media strewn about, aprons not hung up. She started to clean things up, maybe out of nervousness. Lexa was wondering around looking at some of the unfinished pieces.
“Are these all client pieces?” Lexa asked looking at a particular unfinished sculpture.
“Some of them are, most of them are mine, this place is my business but it’s also my personal studio. Clarke blushed, she didn’t know why Lexa made her blush so much.
“Do you sell your art?” Lexa asked, continuing to wonder and admire Clarke’s salvagables left on display on the front window sill; vintage cameras, her old typewriter and ink cartridges, along with some paintings and sculptures on display. The front area was set up like a living room; There were couches and a coffee table, the table had one of those stupid sand gardens on it. There was a bookshelf behind one of the couches that was covered in books, some leaking over the shelves onto the floor. Some were art history books, some were fiction, some photography books. On top of the book shelf were some plants, a cactus, a Venus Flytrap and a betta fish named Arne, floating at the surface of a fishbowl. Raven, Octavia and Bell had bought them for her because “she talked to herself, and besides the place could use some life.” it was an ongoing joke. Beyond the book shelf were home made bench easels aligned in a circle. Beyond that was a small kitchenette with a kettle and a couple cupboards and a sink. They were mostly filled with coffee, tea, and art supplies. To the right of that was a hallway leading to the bathroom and her personal office. Lining the far right wall was mostly canvas paintings, her current one, where Lexa stood now, was on a standing easel. It was of a waterfall she had remembered from her childhood, when her parents were still around.
“I mostly get hired to do work for companies, some I give away to clients or family of clients. Some people come wandering in and want to purchase some, and I don't object. Some way or another they find their way out of here. I have one in a gallery downtown. It’s my most famous. Of people free falling from a cloudy sky.” Lexa turned her eyes off the painting to Clarke and gasped.
“You painted ‘The 100’?” Clarke looked up sharply to see Lexa looking at her. Lexa knew her painting?
“You’re familiar with it?” Clarke had stopped cleaning and walked over to meet Lexa.
“It’s one of my favourites.” Clarke bluhsed again for probably the upteenth time that day. Lexa not only knew her painting but it was her favourite. “The plaque beside it doesn’t say the artist’s name, I’ve been bugging the museum staff for years for it.” Lexa pause, almost like she was trying to catch her breath. “Clarke” The way Lexa said her name made her dizzy.
“Lexa” Clarke replied. She had stopped before reaching Lexa and was frozen in her place. Lexa moved to close the distance. Lexa finally reached her and Clarke felt like it had taken an eternity for the girl to reach her. All she wanted to do was reach out and touch. Lexa ended up doing it for her. She tucked a stray hair behind Clarke’s ear and ran her fingers along Clarke’s cheek.
“I’m actually kinda grateful for those queerphobes.” Lexa said with a sly smile on her face. Clarke was confused until she understood the irony.
“They brought us together.”