Chapter Text
Fall in Starling, Connecticut, is rarely a pleasant season. The icy drizzles, the howling winds, the wet leaves that cling to the bottom of boots, the wet boots that track mud on the floor of the town's diner; Lexa hates it all. And does it matter if she puts two signs at the entrance pointing toward the doormat? Hardly. Still, she mops the floor with the same diligence each morning, knowing very well her fine work will be ruined as soon as she opens the diner—forty minutes from now, at 6:30AM sharp.
When the floors are done and the tables are set, when she glances at her watch and realizes she has only twenty minutes left before Raven strolls into the kitchen, Lexa walks up the hidden stairwell to her warm apartment. By the time the diner floor is dry, she's showered, killed her fatigue with coffee, and pulled on her jeans and long-sleeved top.
She spots Raven in the kitchen, her hair not yet in its ponytail and net. She rolled out of bed ten minutes ago—that much is obvious. Raven leans out the serving hatch with a small brown envelope in her hand and a smile much too bright for this time of day.
"Did you purposefully ignore the mailbox again?"
Lexa eyes the envelope before starting a pot of coffee. "I'm still waiting on your supply list. Order goes out tomorrow."
Raven groans, pretending to crumple on the counter. "Come on, you're not even a little curious?"
"I'm working," Lexa dismisses.
"Can I open it?"
Lexa quickly snags the envelope out of Raven's hand. "No. Don't you have bacon to fry?"
"You know, there's actually a woman out there who wakes up earlier than you. If that doesn't spell out soulmate—"
"Please stop."
"Poor chick; you must've really messed her up."
"I didn't do anything. And for all I know, it's a guy."
Raven barks out a laugh. "Oh Lexa, no guy is this patient."
"It's juvenile either way. I don't have time for games. If this... woman really likes me," Lexa tosses the envelope near a stack of napkins, "she can tell me in person."
The bell dings as the glass door swings open, announcing a whirlwind of messy blonde hair and damp clothes. The woman dumps her purse, beanie and scarf on the counter before sitting on a stool.
"Please tell me your coffee's ready," she implores with a whine.
Lexa looks at her with something akin to resignation; clearly used to this brand of chaos but not especially amused by it.
"Hello to you, too, Clarke," Lexa says. "Please, feel free to sit down before opening time."
Clarke straightens up, glancing at Raven behind the serving hatch. "Did she mop this morning?"
"Oh she mopped all right."
Clarke looks back at Lexa. "I thought you agreed mopping makes you grouchy."
"Tris is late."
"Oh. Maybe you need a new waitress."
"Hey!" Raven protests. "I vouched for that kid. We're not firing her after four months."
"Sorry, Rae. Please don't spit in my eggs."
"We'll see," Raven says before disappearing in the kitchen.
Lexa glances at the clock and then back at Clarke. "You couldn't wait two minutes?"
"Lexa, have you been outside? My nipples were about to fall off."
"Your delivery van has a heater."
"It broke."
"Since when?"
"Yesterday. You really don't listen to me, do you?"
Lexa turns to the coffee pot with a sigh. She pours a generous cup for Clarke, who proceeds to fill it with sugar. "Regardless, you know I gave you a key for emergencies, right?"
Clarke wraps her hands around the steaming cup. "My stomach was growling and my caffeine levels were plummeting."
"Emergencies, Clarke."
"I have 8AM deliveries in the city. What was I supposed to do—watch you from outside and pout until you opened?"
"That would've been entertaining at least," Lexa muses.
"You'd give in after two seconds."
"You're very sure of yourself."
"Very sure of my pout," Clarke demonstrates.
Lexa sighs, though her mouth curves into a smile at the jut of Clarke's lips. She moves around the counter and toward the entrance door. "Drink your coffee."
Clarke smiles to herself as Lexa turns the diner sign to OPEN. The drizzle stopped but the sky is still a sullen blue and the street is quiet. Lexa knows it'll change within the hour. Soon the town will shake off its morning frost and welcome the day ahead. For some people like Clarke, the day has already started. Lexa notices her small delivery van parked outside. There's a crown of flowers designed on the side and GRIFFIN FLOWERS written beneath it.
After a few sips of coffee, Clarke stretches her arms over her head. "You know… your mystery admirer put in a new order."
Lexa walks behind the counter and starts filling up an empty sugar dispenser. "Is that so?"
"Hmm. I'll get to it when I come back from the city. Should swing by between 8 and 10PM."
"Still no name?"
"Nope. Florist's code of honor."
"I see. You can keep the flowers."
Clarke's shoulders slump. "Lexa… it's the third bouquet. My house has enough hydrangeas as is."
"Then give them to your parents."
"Do you hate flowers or something?" Clarke presses her hand to her heart. "Oh my god, you do."
Lexa rolls her eyes, screwing back the cap of the dispenser. "You were right to quit drama school. And I don't… hate flowers."
"Then take my gorgeous arrangement and lighten up a little. You know some people would kill for one of my bouquets, right?"
"Of course, Clarke. Who wouldn't commit murder for peonies?"
"Exactly."
The entrance bell chimes again, two regulars Lexa could've recognized just by their loud chatter. "Good morning!" They say.
Clarke swivels around with a knowing grin. "Good morning, Beth. Marie."
Beth and Marie are as elegant as they are kind, their long hair as white as snow and their lips always some shade of red. They drink more coffee and eat more slices of Raven's lemon pie than Clarke knows her mother—the town doctor—advises, but they're both well over eighty and not even Lexa could refuse them anything. She's known them her whole life; from the time they'd slip her slices of cake after school to the day they held her hand at her parents' funeral. Lexa might pretend to be gruff with most customers, but Clarke sees the way she softens when the two women sit at their usual table, the sign on it perpetually reading 'Reserved'.
"Eggs and bacon," Raven calls out, sliding the plate out the serving hatch. She glances once at Beth and Marie before disappearing again and putting out two slices of lemon pie. "And pie for the stunners in the back."
Lexa sets Clarke's plate in front of her before walking toward the sisters.
Clarke glances over at Raven. "Stunners in the back, huh? Have I figured out your type?"
"Spot on, Clarke," Raven drawls. "I'm all about octogenarians these days. You're a regular Sherlock."
"Hmm more compliments please," Clarke says, shoving a forkful of scrambled eggs in her mouth.
"Charming."
"Who is?" Lexa asks, sliding back behind the counter.
"Beth and Marie of course," Raven smirks. "Clarke is trying to figure out my type. Well, it's your lucky morning. I'm all about chest hair lately. Beards. I don't know where it comes from. Maybe Lexa's uncle after he dropped off those crates of flour."
"One more word and you're fired."
Clarke grins between two bites.
"Speaking of types," Raven continues, pointing her spatula at Lexa. "This one got a new note this morning."
"It's nothing."
"She won't open it," Raven reveals. "Again."
"No flowers and no letters," Clarke says before blowing on her coffee. "You're breaking that poor girl's heart."
"She thinks it's a guy now."
The bell chimes, causing them to turn their heads. It's Cage Wallace with his phone glued to his ear, as per usual. He puts down a crisp bill on the counter and barely raises his head, nodding at Lexa as if she can guess his order by osmosis. Lexa says nothing as she pours coffee in a paper cup and places a lid on it. He picks it up and is gone just like that, talking loudly into his phone about budget cuts.
Clarke hides half her grin in her mug. "Well hopefully it's not that guy."
Lexa shakes her head as she puts the cash in the register. "Maybe one day he'll figure out he's wasting five dollar bills on two dollar coffee."
Raven snorts. "Why don't you use the spare change for mystery gal? Get her a vibrator with your face on it."
Clarke barks out a laugh so loudly that Lexa turns to her with a glare. "Don't you have flowers to deliver?"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"And you," Lexa turns to Raven. "Can't you talk about the weather like everyone else?"
"It's cold and wet," Raven monotones. "Seriously though, I think you should consider what the girl has to say."
"It's weird, all right? She knows where I work, where I live—"
"Everyone knows where you work and live; they're the same fucking place!" Raven retorts.
"It's cowardly."
"It's romantic," Raven counters. "Ever heard that magic word?"
Clarke slowly chews on her last piece of bacon. "Lexa can be romantic."
Raven and Lexa freeze, which gives Clarke pause. "You didn't tell her?"
"Tell me what?" Raven asks.
"Lexa and I went on a date once."
Lexa's face goes pale. "I'd hardly call it a date."
Clarke glances at Raven. "She took me ice skating and paid for my chocolate crêpe. It was definitely a date."
"Oh Clarkey, you are making my day," Raven says, leaning out the serving hatch on her forearms. "Did she do the thing where she pretends she's a horrible skater so she can cling to your arm?"
"Oh she did the thing. Twice. Until I called her out on it."
"That is not how it happened," Lexa protests.
"I need to write this down," Raven laughs. "Where's my pad?"
Lexa closes her eyes as she pinches the bridge of her nose.
"Don't worry about it," Clarke chuckles fondly. "It was cute."
Lexa scowls. "Again, aren't you on the clock?"
Clarke wipes her mouth with a napkin. "You know, for a girl who hates flowers you sure seem antsy for my clients to receive them."
"I'd hate for you to lose business."
"Well thank you, Lexa. I don't know how my flower shop would survive without you."
"You're welcome. Now let me do math," Lexa requests as she pulls out a ledger from beneath the counter.
Raven chuckles to herself before picking up her thick recipe book and leafing through it.
There's relative silence as Clarke finishes her coffee and meal. She watches Lexa jot down what seems to be inventory, her face framed by the few curls that are too short for her ponytail. Sometimes they fall in her face and she blows at them mindlessly, forcing Clarke to hide her smile in her coffee. She looks at Raven on the other side of the serving hatch, noticing how she frowns at a pumpkin recipe.
"You making pies before the fair?"
Raven lets out a loud 'ha!" without looking up from her book. "They will have their pies for one weekend and one weekend only. No bonus days."
Clarke sets her coffee down. "How many did you sell last year? Fifty?"
"Fifty-eight," Lexa corrects.
Raven scowls. "Do you know how many pie-eating nightmares I had after that?"
"We're only making forty this time," Lexa tells Clarke. "And it's one per customer. If they need more they can go to the city."
"Putting your boss cap on, huh?"
"Unless you'd be willing to give us a hand? Round us up to forty-five?"
"I don't know, how do your customers like burnt dough?"
Lexa purses her lips. "Not great fans."
"Tragic."
Lexa glances at her watch. "It's 7AM, by the way."
Clarke's eyes widen as she turns to look at the clock. "Fuck!" She slips off the stool and ties her scarf back on. "Just add everything to my tab. And I'm still stoping by tonight with the flowers." She puts her coat on and shoves her beanie in the pocket before hurrying toward the door. "Thanks for the food, Rae!"
"Be careful on the—" the bell dings as the door closes behind Clarke, "—road."
Lexa sighs and watches Clarke rush to her van and open the sliding door. She quickly peels off the sidewalk, music no doubt blasting.
"I guess you don't tell me everything, huh?"
Lexa turns to face Raven. "What?"
Raven throws her hands up. "You dated!"
Lexa picks up Clarke's plate. "We didn't date. We went out together once in a… romantic capacity, that's it."
"Which you never talked about."
"It was nipped in the bud. There was nothing to say."
"Was it really that bad?"
Lexa considers the question. She looks toward the entrance and then at Beth and Marie, still in their well-lit corner happily chattering over the news section of the paper. She puts the plate and silverware in the bus box.
"No… No, it wasn't bad."
Raven nods, though she looks dubious. "I gotta say I'm a little surprised. You definitely got the domestic bickering down."
Lexa turns around, leaning over the counter and pretending to stare intently at her inventory list. "She wasn't ready for a relationship and we agreed to stay friends. That's it."
"Did you kiss?"
Lexa swallows at the memory, then nods.
"Oh come on," Raven whines. "Give me something."
Lexa seems hesitant to revisit the night. She faces Raven and bites her lip. "I um… I thought I was reading things right."
"Wasn't the case?"
Lexa shakes her head.
"Ouch," Raven grimaces.
"It's better this way," Lexa says, rubbing the back of her neck. "Clarke's a good friend. We'd have lost that."
"Or gained something else…" Raven argues.
"Well, neither of us have a very good track record with relationships. Plus I'm always at the diner, and Clarke likes to take the weekends off. That would've been a problem. And what if we had a bad breakup? This town is small enough as it is. It'd ruin everything."
Raven raises her brow at the speech. "Right. Clarke and you together would be a disaster because she likes to keep her weekends free and you don't."
"There are other factors," Lexa scowls.
Raven closes the recipe book. "You know what? I'm starting to get why you won't give this secret chick a chance."
"That has nothing to do with—"
"I'm getting back to my bacon."
Raven disappears in the kitchen while Lexa swallows back her protests and stares blankly at the counter.
It's not long before Tris arrives, breathless and apologetic, and then Ryder to help Raven in the kitchen around 9AM, when it starts to get crowded. Soon enough it's too busy for Lexa to think about anything other than running her business. The envelope remains near the napkins, unopened and forgotten.
*
It's 9PM when Lexa finally turns the door sign to CLOSED. She's back to sweeping and Raven is back to cleaning up her utensils, yawning every ten minute.
"All good?" Raven asks as she gets out of the kitchen.
Lexa nods distractedly, feeling sluggish. Raven helps her set the last chairs up on the tables before she heads to the backroom to grab her coat.
"Another day gone by—" Raven is interrupted by her own yawn, which she doesn't bother covering up anymore.
Lexa chuckles and sets the broom against the wall. "Go home, Raven."
"Yeah, yeah. Goodnight." She pulls the door open and lets out a groan when the chilly air hits her face.
Lexa watches her rush across the street, barely missing the sludge by the sidewalk. The diner is quiet and dark again. Lexa cleans the last corner of the counter before re-aligning every sugar dispenser. She stops by the stack of napkins, almost flinching at the sight of the now grease-stained envelope.
She picks it up and hesitates before opening it, pulling a light-blue card out:
I get the feeling I'm doing this horribly wrong, and potentially coming off to you as Freddy Krueger? Undetermined. I'll be at the fair next weekend. Want to meet up Sunday at 7PM in the gazebo? Will cease and desist if you decline to show, I promise. – GB.
Lexa re-reads the words, a small smile at the corner of her mouth. The prior notes were the same in tone, lighthearted but genuine, though this is the first time the woman has asked to meet. It won't be the quietest place, but Lexa supposes the point is to reassure her in a public setting. Still, the thought is daunting. It isn't like Lexa isn't interested in dating, but the past few months have been... calm. A part of her got used to living between her apartment, the diner, and the occasional night out with friends.
Lexa tucks the note in her back pocket before untying her apron and hanging it on its hook. With the place sparkling, she unties her ponytail and stretches, groaning at the tight knots in her neck and back.
She hears the lock open and turns around, watching as Clarke comes in holding three pink hydrangeas in a pretty arrangement. She waits in front of the door and gives Lexa a hopeful smile, waiting for the green light.
"Well?"
Lexa sighs. "I'm exhausted, Clarke."
"I know. And I'll get out of your hair as soon as these babes are inches deep in water. Deal?"
Lexa feels too tired to fight, especially when it comes to Clarke Griffin. Besides, the flowers do look nice. "Fine. But not in the diner. Tris is allergic." She takes her keys out of her pocket and walks toward the curtain that hides the stairwell. "Come on."
"What? Oh." Clarke follows Lexa behind the curtain and up the stairs, her boots squeaking with each step. Once they reach the top, Lexa glances down at Clarke's shoes.
"Step in a puddle?"
Clarke grimaces. "Got drenched by an asshole Maserati driver. Long story."
Lexa opens the door and leads them inside, crouching down to pet her black cat when she purrs at her feet. "Hey, sweetheart," she whispers, scratching behind her spotted ears.
"Do you have a vase?" Clarke asks behind her, shuffling toward the kitchen.
"Cupboard on top of the stove."
"Got it."
Lexa watches as her cat scampers toward Clarke and rubs herself against her leg. Clarke doesn't seem to mind, focused on filling up the glass vase with water and unwrapping the bouquet. Lexa moves next to her and gathers the now slightly torn wrapping paper.
"You can just throw that," Clarke quickly says. "There's no card."
Lexa nods before putting the paper in the trash. She watches as Clarke cuts the stems and then sets the vase on the kitchen island. "Tada."
Lexa chuckles. "Are you happy now?"
"Very happy. I can finally write on my website that Lexa Woods personally adores my fine work."
"Bit of a stretch, isn't it?"
"They don't have to know that."
They share a smile that is far too familiar. Clarke is the first to look away and move toward the entrance. "All right, a promise is a promise. I'll leave you to it."
Lexa walks her to the door, holding it open as Clarke puts her beanie back on. She seems to hesitate before looking up at Lexa.
"Hey um… I'm sorry about earlier."
Lexa blinks, trying to remember the morning. "I don't actually mind that you come in early, Clarke," she reassures her.
"No," Clarke smiles, "I mean telling Raven about our date. It kinda slipped out."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
Lexa shrugs. "I guess it never came up before. It's not a big deal."
Clarke's smile falls a second before she brightens up again. "Well, good thing right? You'd definitely have to love flowers if we ever gave it a shot."
"Hmm, deal breaker right there."
Clarke chuckles. "I should get going."
"You're going to lock the diner door, right?"
"Yes, Lexa, I'm going to lock the diner door."
"Okay. Goodnight, Clarke."
"'Night, Lexa."
Lexa watches her go down the stairs two steps at a time, humming unintelligible lyrics to herself—something about flowers, no doubt. Lexa smiles before closing the door.