Chapter Text
The rain patters down across the windshield like a constant litany of her cowardice and with each drop Clarke’s jaw becomes tighter. Her fingers tap out a parallel rhythm against the steering wheel of her car, betraying her nervousness. She’s been sat here for ten minutes, trying to work up the courage to go inside and a glance at the clock in her car radio tells her that she doesn’t have much time left. With a herculean effort, she drags her fingers from the wheel and instead smoothes out the peach coloured shirt she’s wearing. She wonders at the colour, whether it’s too bright for such a dull day. She can’t afford to have anything working against her today.
A knock against the window makes her jump so violently that she knocks her head against the roof of the car, rubbing at it sheepishly as she rolls down the window for the officer stood at her door.
“Sorry for startling you ma’am,” The officer gives her an apologetic smile. “Only you’ve been sat out here for fifteen minutes. This isn’t a loading bay, you can only park if you’re coming inside.”
“Yes, I know,” Clarke shoots a glance at the prison rising up behind him and swallows heavily, “Sorry, I was just… deciding if I wanted to.”
“And did you come to a decision?” The officer looks at her with thinly veiled impatience and she nods, reaching for the door.
“Yes.” She tells him, decisively, and he steps out of the way to let her climb out of the car. The rain falls around her and she hurries to lock the car and stride across the parking lot, the officer following quickly at her heels.
The prison looms up like a mountain before her and she is pulled to a stop in front of the doors. There is a cool, white glow from the fluorescent lighting inside and a harshness to the regulation brown bricks that make up the squat building. Though she has been here many times before, it feels no more welcoming than it ever has before and she is left hesitating again. Having this conversation inside the prison feels innately wrong, but she knows Anya will respect her for coming to speak to her in person, rather than over the phone and until the woman’s sentence is up in a few years, there’s no real choice of location.
“Thought you’d decided?” The officer asks her, pausing at her side to follow her gaze into the reception.
“I have.” Clarke hopes that her voice doesn’t tremble. Despite her words, she doesn’t move and the officer looks at her as if he is observing a particularly interesting insect.
“You seeing an inmate?’ At her nod, he continues, “Visiting times are gonna end soon, doesn’t seem like you want to be here.”
“No, I do… I need to be here.”
“Need to be?” The officer echoes and snorts, “damn, doesn’t sound like good news for our inmate. Should I put the boys on high alert for a melt down?”
“I hope not,” Clarke rubs a hand over her forehead, anxiously. Despite being sheltered beneath the lip of the building, she can feel the damp air making the ends of her hair curl. “And it’s not bad news.”
“Really?” The officer doesn’t seem convinced, “No break up then? No cheating?”
Clarke’s nose wrinkles, “No, none of that.” She draws in a shuddering breath, her gaze fixed on the door ahead of her. “I want to marry her sister.”
---
Anya’s gaze is cool and hard across the narrow, sticky table in the visitation room. Clarke can feel the sweat beading on the back of her neck, sitting in her palms and prickling on her hairline. The people around them are stealing glances, obviously unnerved by the ongoing silence sitting between both women, and while Anya’s eyes have yet to leave her face, Clarke’s gaze darts back and forth around the visitation room.
“You want to marry her.” Anya is stoic and completely unreadable. Her words send a shiver up Clarke’s spine, but she sits up a little straighter in her uncomfortable seat and stiffens her resolve.
“Yes.” She’s proud that her voice doesn't crack. “Very much.”
Anya looks at her for another long moment and Clarke has to clench her fingers together beneath the table to stop herself from snapping. Though she has known Anya for several years now, she still feels a shudder of fear at the thought of being evaluated by the woman.
“Lexa’s been through a lot, you know,” Anya places her elbows on the table and steeples her fingers thoughtfully. “Hell, what am I saying, of course you know.” She rolls her eyes and Clarke feels a modicum of tension ease out of her body. “I’ve tried to shield her from this shitty world as much as possible but now…” She holds her hands out, demonstrating to the prison and Clarke nods carefully, as if worried that any sort of movement might spook the woman. “There’s not much I can do and even if I didn’t want her to marry you, I’m guessing she probably would anyway.” Anya’s eyes meet hers again and there is a small smile settled on her lips. “She always was pretty defensive about the things she loved.”
“I love her too,” The words escape her like a gasp for air, inescapable and instinctual, but at Anya’s raised eyebrow she feels herself flush. “I mean, just so you know.”
“Yeah, I know you do.” Anya’s eyes raise to the ceiling in a mannerism so similar to Lexa that Clarke’s heart clenches. “If you didn’t there’s no way I’d let you near my kids.”
“I love them too.” She is starting to relax a little more now, her honesty getting the better of her. “Obviously not in the same way you and Lexa do but… in my own way.”
Anya’s eyes soften just slightly at her admittance and something shifts between them, an easing. “I know that too. They talk about you incessantly.” She grins and Clarke feels her heart soar.
“So… you’ll let me marry Lexa?”
“Let you?” Anya barks out a laugh that turns a few heads. “Like I said, Lexa wouldn’t listen to me when it comes to you.” At Clarke’s uncertain expression, she gives a little and says. “But if you’re asking whether I approve then… yes, I suppose my little sister could do worse than you.”
Her breath catches in her throat at the words and she has to stop herself from reaching out to catch Anya’s hands gratefully.
“We won’t get married until you get out.” She instead assures her hurriedly and Anya’s brows crease.
“Why wait?”
“Well I just-”
“I made it clear to Lexa when I came in here that normal life shouldn't just stop while I’m inside.” Anya is firm, but Clarke digs her heels in.
“I know that Lexa won’t want to get married without you there… and neither will I.”
Anya sits back in her seat and for the first time, Clarke sees her look impressed. “Well,” She says at last, “Sounds like you have it all figured out. All you’ve got to do now is actually ask her.”
---
“Clarke, Clarke, look what I made at school today!” Miya barrels into her legs the minute that she steps through the door and it’s a credit to her that Clarke is now able to catch them both and push the door shut at the same time. Comet darts out of the living room, his big head lolling and greets her with his front legs on her trousers and his tongue in her face.
“Hey there you two,” She feels immediately warm inside, surrounded by family, and pats both girl and dog on the head, easing them gently away from her so that she can peel off her wet coat. “Did you have a good day munchkin?”
“Yeah it was good, now come look!” Miya is already tugging at her hand, pulling her into the kitchen and Clarke is helpless but to follow, staggering along behind her.
The kitchen is an orderly mess. There are old lunch bags and boxes thrown about the counters and a few crumbs on the counter betray that someone has been in the cookie tin. By the door to the backyard are kicked three sets of rain boots, set in an orderly line by Lexa, largest to smallest and in a rainbow of colours. The new fridge is covered with pictures and schedules, though Lexa is convinced that similar overloading is what caused their last one to kick the bucket. The final, new edition, is the solar system made from dangling, painted ping pong balls sitting within a panorama of the night sky.
“Isn’t it cool!” Miya demands, and before Clarke can even open her mouth to respond, she continues, “Take a picture and send it to Raven!”
“Okay, okay,” She laughs, trying to stave off the bouncing dog at her feet as she pulls her phone out of her pocket and takes a picture, sending it to Raven with the caption you’ve indoctrinated her . “It’s awesome, did you make it in class?”
“Yeah!” Miya beams at her, but they are interrupted by a voice in the hallway and Clarke turns at the sound of her name just in time to catch hold of Tris before she can shoot straight through her legs and into the table.
“Hi baby,” Clarke can’t help the little thud she gets in her heart when she sees Tris.
“I’m not a baby!” Tris instructs her firmly, stamping her foot, “I’m 5!”
“You are,” Clarke laughs quietly and scoops Tris into her arms. She’s getting a little heavy now, but it’s a habit that she can’t quite shake from the girl’s infanthood and Tris doesn’t exactly complain when Clarke tickles her so that she squirms. “How about you kiddo, did you have a good day at school?”
“No,” Tris’s lip sticks out in a big, fat pout that has been known to earn her the world. “Jonny Bradshaw ran into me in the playground.”
“Oh no,” Clarke frowns, “Did you fall?”
“No,” Tris looks at her like she’s crazy. “I ran right back into him.”
She shouldn’t laugh, but the snort escapes her anyway and she has to quickly school her features before Tris figures out that bad behaviour will get her a laugh rather than a scolding and be irreparably damaged for life.
“Now that wasn’t very nice.” She shakes her head, “We don’t run into people Tris.”
“But he ran into me,” Tris twists to look at her better and Clarke eases her down to the floor, kneeling next to her.
“Yes, and he shouldn’t have done that.”
“But nobody told him off,” Tris crosses her arms and Clarke breathes in slowly, preserving her composure.
“Well maybe they didn't see him do it. But we should always treat people how we would want them to treat us, do you understand? Even if they’re mean to us, we’re not mean back.”
Tris still looks unconvinced, but she nods slowly and Clarke sighs. “Okay, go back to your cartoons.”
Tris whizzes away happily into the living room again and Clarke’s phone beeps in her pocket. A text from Raven reads fuck yeah, i’m gonna catch them allllll .
She rolls her eyes. “Raven says your solar system looks excellent, Miya.” She tells the ten year old sat at the kitchen table, flicking through the Nation Geographic book she got for her birthday, and Miya beams. “Where’s your brother?”
“He’s in his room,” Miya’s beam slips into a sly grin. “With Ashley Templar.”
Clarke’s eyes widen and she turns on her heel, hurrying down the hallway and up the stairs. Though the kids are now old enough that she can pretty much trust them not to stick their fingers in the plug sockets when she turns her back, teenagerhood has brought a whole host of new challenges. From mood swings to acne, she’s awaits the day that Aden goes off to college with both dread and glee, although the first signs of adolescence are already rearing their head in Miya.
She forces herself to pause and take a breath in front of Aden’s room, trying to remember the days when she was a teenager and her mother embarrassed her on a daily basis. Carefully, she knocks on the door, but can’t wait long enough for an answer before pushing it open.
At least- at least - the curtain is open, so the small room doesn’t feel quite as dank as it could be. When it became clear that she and Lexa were going to be spending most of their nights together and that Tris and Miya were about ready to kill each other sharing a room, Lexa gave up her room for Miya to use. Some of Lexa’s clothes are still stored in the back of a closet, but otherwise the room has been painted purple and is covered in boy band and animal posters. Miya’s current animal love: elephants.
Which had left Aden stuck in the box room and Miya and Tris with two larger rooms to themselves. The ever accommodating and easy going elder sibling hadn’t cared too much at the time, but Clarke is sure that he wouldn’t be able to get a bigger room as messy as he keeps this one.
There are clothes scattered around the floor, as if the boy doesn’t even own a closet, but Clarke is sure he does because the closet door is hanging open and inside she can see the acres of space that he has to put things, but instead chooses to keep his favourite shirt crumpled on the floor. There are band posters and movie posters tacked up around the wall and- to Clarke’s never ending pride- an anatomical diagram of the human body above his small desk. The cactus he got for his birthday sits sighing on the windowsill and there’s a stack of games in one corner and a soccer ball in the other, pretty much abandoned for his new favourite sport: baseball.
Usually Clarke isn’t one to worry about mess, but Aden’s room actually bothers her more than it bothers Lexa. But maybe that’s just because Lexa has decided to adopt a laissez faire attitude to the whole thing. If she didn’t, she would probably have a heart attack every time she walked in.
The kids are sat on the bed, and Clarke vaguely recognises Ashley. Maybe she went to Aden’s middle school, but she's definitely grown up quickly in the way that she dreads Miya will eventually do. Aden is sat next to her and they have textbooks in their lap. Clarke feels some of her panic slip away, and tries to brighten her demeanour.
“Hi,” She says as casually as she can. “Just thought I’d let you know I was home.”
“Cool, hey.” Aden looks sheepish and embarrassed, his floppy hair hiding the acne on his forehead and covering his eyes.
“You must be Ashley,” Clarke says, when it’s clear that Aden isn’t going to introduce them and the girl colours, giving a polite smile.
“Yeah, hello Ms Woods.”
“Griffin actually,” She tries to stay as casual as possible, but Aden is cringing in his seat. “But you can call me Clarke.”
“Thanks, Ms Gr- Clarke,” Ashley fidgets with the hair tie around her wrist and Clarke decides to cut to the chase before Aden actually sinks through the floor with embarrassment.
“No worries, I’ll leave you guys to your studying, I just need to borrow Aden for a second.”
“ Really ?” Aden’s expression is pained and his eyes slide to Ashley anxiously, but the girl is studiously ignoring his gaze.
“Really.” Clarke confirms and feels a flash of victory when he levers himself off the bed and follows her into the hallway.
Clarke pushes the door to his room shut a little, and pulls him out of earshot before saying, “Aden, you know the rule about having girls in your room.”
“Come on Clarke, we’re just studying.” His hands squirm into his pockets and he looks sullen.
“You know the rule Aden,” She insists.
“Keep the door open,” He intones and glares at the floor, “Fine, we will. Not like we even need to, we’re not… it’s not like that.”
“Blanket rule Aden,” She bites back an automatic apology, “And you were supposed to be looking after your siblings. If we leave you here on your own you need to be downstairs keeping an eye on them.”
Aden does seem a little ashamed at that, and his expression twists contritely. “I know, I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, just remember for next time,” He casts a longing look back at his room and she rolls her eyes, “Okay, you can go.”
He slopes off down the corridor back to his room and she turns to step into what’s now Tris’s room. It’s still light and airy, just like it always was, and the walls are a pale yellow. There are piles of cuddly toys in every corner and the bed is almost invisible under the menagerie. A rug in the middle of the room is covered with rainbows and there’s a pretend kitchen set pressed up against the wall, a little bookcase against the other. In the closet in the corner, however, Clarke keeps her art supplies. It is the closest thing to a safe space in the house and it is to here that she goes, pausing to check for any little feet coming up the staircase. All is relatively quiet and she reaches onto the top shelf, pulling down her box of rarely used chalks, and digging for the little cloth bag at the back.
Her fingers catch around the drawstrings holding it together and she fishes it out, dusting off the worst of the chalk and pulling it open. Inside is the box that she’s had for months, small enough that she can slip it into her pocket.
---
Lexa hesitates on the doorstep, her keys hanging from her fingers, and looks up at the house glowing before her. The windows are all alight, but she doesn’t think about the electricity bill which is basically burning money. Instead, her lips curl into a smile as she thinks of the chattering conversation sure to be waiting inside, and the warm meal- as long as Clarke has managed to not burn the supper. Years ago, sat in a crumbling foster home with Anya, she never thought she would have anything like this. A home, a family, it all seemed like a dream made for other people, lucky people, and yet now, somehow, she’s stumbled into her own little heaven.
Pushing the door open, she steps into the hallway, cluttered with backpacks and warm coats thrown over the bannisters. There are pictures of them all against the walls, hanging in frames, and a flower made from popsicle sticks sits on the hallway table. Paws patter across the lino in the kitchen and Comet barrels down the hallway towards her, pawing at her feet. He’s long past learnt that she won’t stand for any jumping, but she scratches his ears welcomingly and gives him a little pat as she shrugs off her coat.
“Hi!” She calls, stepping through the doorway into the kitchen. The three kids are all sat at the table, Aden with his phone hidden very obviously in his lap, and Clarke is stood above them, her hair piled up into a bun on top of her head, serving out rounds of spaghetti. The way Clarke’s eyes light up at the sight of her always takes Lexa’s breath away.
“Aunty Lexa!” Tris beams up at her, her legs swinging from the chair.
“Hi pumpkin,” She ruffles the little blonde curls on Tris’s head, smiling as she rounds the table to place a kiss to Clarke’s cheek. “Hello love.”
“You’re home in time for dinner,” Clarke’s smile is tender.
“I said I would be, didn’t I?” She sinks into the seat left out for her and watches Clarke pass over a bowl of spaghetti. “Smells delicious. And the house is still in one piece.”
Aden snorts from across the table and Clarke’s smile morphs into scowl.
“Hey, we haven’t had a major fire incident in at least a year!”
“Yeah, but when you set the microwave on fire trying to make popcorn people don;t really forget,” Aden grins at her and Clarke rolls her eyes at him, wielding her spoon in his direction.
“That’s enough from you, mister. I don’t like it when you guys remember things that well.” She settles into her seat as everyone begins to eat. There is a comfortable chaos to proceedings as everyone passes around drinks, salt and pepper, but when silence settles Lexa manages to get a word in and ask.
“How was school, everyone?”
A groan goes up from around the table.
“It was fine.” Aden tells her, succinctly, still stealing glances at his phone and Lexa exchanges a look with Clarke.
“How about you guys?” She turns to Miya and Tris, “Did you have good days?”
“I made a solar system, didn’t I Clarke?” Miya turns to the blonde and Clarke nods eagerly, hurriedly chewing through her mouthful to say, slightly garbled.
“She sure did, it’s in the living room.”
“ And, ” Miya continues, “Me and Ali and Lucy made friendship bracelets, look.” She holds out her wrist, displaying a stringy blue and purple bracelet.
Lexa exchanges another glance with Clarke, brows pulling a little with concern, but just says. “That’s nice sweetie. And it’s Ali, Lucy and I.”
“Johnny Bradshaw ran into me in the playground,” Tris tells her, shovelling pasta into her mouth.
“Here honey,” Lexa reaches over to tuck a paper serviette into her top, though it’s already littered with stains.
Tris continues as if she hasn’t spoken, still twirling her pasta messily. “And I ran back into him, but Clarke says that was bad.”
“You… you what?” Lexa’s eyes swivel from Tris to Clarke and back again, but Clarke lays a hand on her arm and says, calmly.
“Don’t worry, we’ve talked about treating people as we’d like to be treated. Haven’t we Tris?”
“Yeah,” Tris rolls her eyes in an expression that Lexa is intensely worried she’s picked up from her Aunty. “I’m not allowed to run into Johnny Bradshaw, I have to tell a teacher.” She recites, and then mutters. “Even though Johnny Bradshaw is a stupid head.”
“Tris,” Lexa reproves her, “Have we all finished our homework?”
“Yep,” Miya takes a big, satisfied bite of her spaghetti.
Aden doesn’t reply, his eyes fastened to his lap where one hand types furiously and Lexa raises an eyebrow at Clarke, who holds out a hand to their eldest.
“Okay, hand it over kid.”
“What?” Aden’s head shoots up, eyes wide, “What are we talking about?”
“ We ,” Lexa indicates to the four girls around the table, “are talking about our days, like a nice, sociable family. Now give Clarke your phone.”
“Aw, come on,” Aden’s voice cracks and he flushes a little, “Can’t I just keep it?”
“You know the rules, you can have it after dinner,” Clarke wriggles her fingers and Aden reluctantly hands it over, watching resentfully as she stands to put it on the counter behind them. “Now, how was your day Aden?”
“It was fine,” He stirs has food around his plate, “Just normal.”
“Did you do your homework?” Lexa prompts, and at his nod gives up, turning instead to the youngest. “What about you Tris?”
The little girl looks guiltily down at her food and when she speaks her voice is so false that Lexa almost laughs. “Yes?”
“Tris,” She tries not to sound too frustrated, “You have to start doing your homework, if you need help you can ask us but you’ve been at school for months now, you should be used to it.”
“It’s counting,” Tris crosses her arms, “I don’t wanna.”
“Well you need to learn how to count Tris,” Clarke reaches over to top up everyone’s glasses of juice from the jug in the middle of the table, “Otherwise how will you know how many toys you have?”
“I know how many I have,” Tris answers, smartly, “Not enough.”
It’s too much for Clarke, who throws her head back to laugh from her stomach and Lexa cracks moments later, shaking her head at the precocious five year old.
---
After dinner, Clarke settles down to help Tris with her counting, sitting on the living room floor and spreading out her soft toys in a line to help her practice. In the kitchen, it’s Miya’s turn to help Lexa with the dishes and they work through them together quickly, until they’re left with a pile of clean, dry dishes on the counter. As Lexa stacks them in the high cupboard, she turns to the little girl and asks.
“Where’s your gym kit Miya? It’ll need washing.”
“In my school bag,” Miya tells her without looking up from the screen of Aden’s old Nintendo.
“I guess I’ll get it then,” Lexa rolls her eyes, but Miya doesn’t even look up from her screen, so she just steps around her to pluck the backpack from where it sits in the hall.
Placing it on the kitchen table to rummage through it in search of the gym kit, her fingers instead close around something hard and cool and she pull out the sturdy digital camera Miya was gifted for her last birthday.
“Miya, what’s this?” She fixes the girl with a stern gaze and Miya winces guiltily when she sees what her aunt is holding. “I thought we’d talked about you taking this to school.”
“Sorry, I just wanted to take pictures!”
“Miya, remember what we said? Some children might not want their pictures taken. And it could get broken if you take it to school.”
“I’m not taking pictures of people!” Miya reaches out for the camera and Lexa reluctantly hands it over, stepping around the table to peer over her shoulder at the little screen. It’s scary how easily the girl uses the device and Lexa thinks about how she had to call tech support today when she couldn’t open a PDF and tries not to feel old. “Look!” Miya holds the camera out as proof and Lexa takes it slowly.
There are pictures of the leaves on the school playground, of a squirrel perched in the top of a tree, of a blackbird searching for errant crumbs in a quiet corner of the school yard. The blue sky filled with fluffy clouds, a daisy just about to open, the sun shining off a puddle of rainwater.
“Miya,” Her voice is soft as she keeps scrolling. “These are really good. Where did you learn to take pictures like this?”
Miya just shrugs, “But they’re not of people, see?”
“They’re not,” Lexa admits, “But you still shouldn’t take it to school, it might get broken.”
Miya’s face falls at her words and Lexa tries to alleviate her stab of guilt by saying.
“But how about this: if you want, every couple of weeks we’ll send them off to be printed okay? You pick your favourites and we’ll print them.”
Miya’s expression brightens again and she nods. “Okay! Thank you Aunty Lexa.”
---
“Are you nearly done in the shower babe?” Clarke wipes her hand along the bathroom mirror, clearing it of steam so that she can see her reflection. Their small bathroom is steamy with heat from Lexa’s shower and she pushes her hair back from her face. Lexa likes to take the hottest showers known to man, leaving the bathroom like a sauna each time. Regardless, she’s glad that they decided to add an ensuite bathroom to the house when their landlord passed away and the house came up on the market for dirt cheap. They’ll be paying the mortgage off for years, but it’s worth it to know that the kids have somewhere concrete and permanent as their base, and to be able to modify the house as they’d like to.
“Yeah, I’m getting out!” The water turns off behind her and then Lexa appears, naked and dripping and entirely too tempting for a school night. She catches Clarke looking as she wipes the water from her eyes and when she laughs Clarke throws a towel at her. “See something you like?”
Clarke tries not to sneak glances at her in the mirror as she loads up her toothbrush, but feeling warm arms around her waist breaks her resolve. She twists and finds her love naked and steamy in her arms and can’t help but lean in and press a kiss to her lips. Lexa tastes of spearmint polos and chocolate and she is accompanied by the heady scent of her shampoo. As their lips move in tandem, like pages of a book soft with use, familiar and well loved, Clarke doesn’t even care that Lexa’s hair is dripping onto her pyjamas. When Lexa finally goes to pull away she tightens her arms and whimperssoftly in complaint. Lexa surrenders for just a moment, before pulling away again, more firmly, and breaking their connection.
“Tease,” Clarke complains, her eyes still shut, and startles when Lexa presses another quick kiss to her lips. By the time her eyes have opened, Lexa is already sashaying back towards the bedroom and Clarke rolls her eyes.
A few moments later she joins Lexa in the bedroom, the room that was once hers. She’s never been so glad to give something up, to have a space dedicated to them both. She doesn't even care that she has to share the closet space and that Lexa always leaves work files lying. It’s worth it to watch the woman she loves sit on their shared bed and comb her hair out carefully.
“So today I caught Aden with a girl,” She mentions it casually as she bends to collect the laundry basket from the floor and tips it out across the bed.
Lexa almost chokes she’s so surprised, her hands stilling their methodical actions as she spins to stare at Clarke. “You did what ?”
“Relax,” She laughs, bending to collect one of Miya’s t shirts and folding it carefully. “They weren’t doing anything, but they did have his bedroom door closed.”
“They were in the bedroom?” Lexa’s eyes are still wide, but- almost as if on autopilot- she begins to braid her hair down her back. “What were they doing?”
“Just studying,” Clarke shrugs as Lexa ties off her braid and starts helping her to sort through the laundry. “But I told him he had to keep the door open.”
“I bet he loved that,” Lexa rolls her eyes, smoothing out one of Tris’s dresses.
“Not so much,” Clarke grins, “But it had to be done.”
“It did,” Lexa looks anxious again, “I just can’t believe he’s growing up so quickly.”
“They all are,” Clarke holds up Miya’s sweater, “Look at this, I swear last week she was no bigger than Tris is.”
“I know,” Lexa shakes her head a little fondly. “And I know I’m worrying too much about Aden, it’s just I’ve never had to worry about a teenager before.”
“Aden will be fine,” Clarke gives her a small smile, “He’s a good kid.”
“You’re right,” Lexa hesitates and then continues, “What about Miya and her friends?”
“Yeah, I was thinking about that to,” Clarke hesitates, looking down into the laundry basket for a second, “I don’t know whether we can even do anything about it.”
“Well, Lucy is a sweetheart but Ali is…” Lexa hesitates again and Clarke rolls her eyes.
“She’s a bitch Lex, just say it.”
“You shouldn’t call a child a bitch,” Lexa reprimands her, frowning, but then acquiesces, “But yes, she is. I’m just worried that she’s going to completely bulldoze those kids. Lucy is a quiet little thing and Miya is…”
Clarke stares down at Miya’s giraffe sweater, holding it between her hands for a moment and feeling the soft wool. “Miya is too good natured to realise she’s being treated badly.” She says, quietly, and sees Lexa nod from the corner of her eye.
“But what can we do?” Lexa sighs heavily and places the final folded shirt in her pile. “If we tell her not to be friends with Ali it will just make it worse.”
“Nothing we can do other than keep an eye on her, I suppose.” Clarke shrugs, moving the folded clothes into the laundry basket and putting the basket on the floor by the foot of their bed. “She’s a smart girl, she’ll figure it out on her own. And if she has a problem, she’ll come to us.”
“Right,” Lexa eases into bed, her face still creased with a frown and Clarke settles in next to her, arranging the covers and blankets carefully over them.
Lexa lies on her back, staring at the ceiling and the bedside lamp glowing behind her illuminates the curve of her jaw and the tights anxious set of her lips. Clarke rests a hand gently on her love’s stomach, stroking soothing circles until Lexa eventually turns to look at her, still frowning. She places a kiss to the high cheekbone she has come to know so well.
“I love you,” She tells her, quietly and Lexa can’t help but smile.
“I love you too.”
“How about we do something all together soon?” Clarke props herself up on her elbow so that she can watch Lexa’s expression ease from concern to curiosity. “The kids have President’s Day coming up, I can switch some shifts around with people.”
“Oh yeah, what are you thinking of?” Lexa’s lips quirk into a smile.
“How about we go up to the mountains? Do some camping, some hiking?”
Lexa’s mouth drops open and she lets out an incredulous laugh, as Clarke’s cheeks heat. “Camping? Hiking?” She echoes. “Clarke, you hate that stuff.”
“But you don’t,” Clarke places another kiss to her cheek and gets to watch Lexa flush with pleasure, even as she raises a suspicious eyebrow.
“Have you done something wrong? Was it you who broke the vase last week?”
“I swear that was the dog!” Clarke shifts in the bed, shuffling closer. “Can’t a girl just want to spend time with the woman she loves and her sister’s two nieces and nephew?”
Lexa twists to her side so that they are looking at each other, their bodies a mirror image. “I don’t think they’ve made a greeting card for that one quite yet. But yeah, if I can get you hiking I’d be a fool not to take the chance.”
“That settles it then,” She leans forward and kisses Lexa, quick and chaste, before reaching over her to turn off the lamp. “Night babe.”
In the dark Lexa’s hands find hers and their fingers tangle together.
“Night love.”
