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Today was Friday, which was Lexa’s least favorite day of the week. Clarke had her busiest day of classes, starting at 8am and not finishing until her lab was over at around 4pm. That was a very long time to not get to see her girlfriend. There was a lunch break in the middle, but Lexa didn’t even get to spend that with her, because, of course, her one class of the day was during Clarke’s only significant break. Whoever was in charge of deciding how classes were scheduled, particularly the required classes for pre med and international relations majors, was clearly homophobic. Anya had told her that she needed to stop calling everyone that minorly inconvenienced her homophobic, but Lexa was convinced this was personal. Why else would she be stuck only being able to communicate with her girlfriend by texting for 8 hours? It was definitely homophobia.
The only good thing about Fridays was that she got to have breakfast with Clarke, who was drinking coffee so black it might be absorbing all light sent towards it and devouring a bag of munchkins at a slightly alarming rate, instead of calmly sipping a classy green tea paired with apple slices, tastefully dipped in peanut butter, like Lexa. Clarke was not a morning person, so this was an experience unique to Fridays. Not having to eat breakfast alone was a small consolation for the rest of the unfortunate day, though.
“Fuck!” It was 7:50, and Clarke was on the verge of being late, given that it was a 5 minute drive to campus and a 10 minute walk to the building her class was in from the parking lot. This was not unusual. Lexa was fairly certain she was late to this class more often than she was on time, but given how she persuaded Clarke to stay in bed a little bit longer some mornings, Lexa wasn’t entirely blameless here.
“Fuck!” Clarke exclaimed again, this time with more passion. She’d just tried to chug her coffee and burned her tongue. Again, not an unusual experience. But even though Clarke apparently hadn’t learned from past experiences, Lexa had. If only she’d told Clarke that she was pouring the extra coffee into a travel mug before her girlfriend tried to drink the rest of her cup in a caffeine-deprived panic. Lexa grabbed an ice cube from the freezer without a second thought, proudly presenting it and the distressed Stitch mug to her girlfriend. He was distressed because he was supposed to look like he was breaking through the mug, but he reminded Lexa of Clarke on Friday mornings.
“Here, put this on your tongue, and then drink this once it’s feeling better.”
“Ugh, you’re a lifesaver, Lex. I love you!” And with a quick kiss pressed to her girlfriend’s cheek, Clarke was gone.
Wait. What?
———
Lexa’s first order of business was a panicked call to Anya, naturally. Anya, however, shared Clarke’s opinion of mornings, and did not sound pleased to be awakened.
“This better be important,” Anya growled, which would’ve been a lot more intimidating if it wasn’t a sleepy “just woke up like this” growl. More of a perturbed purr, like an angry kitten, really. Lexa would never tell her that, though, because Anya could definitely be intimidating when fully awake, and she didn’t have a death wish. Dead people didn’t get to figure out if their girlfriends loved them, after all.
“Clarke said she loved me?” It was silent for a moment, and then Lexa heard rustling noises, which meant either Anya was sitting up to have this conversation for real, or kicking out a one night stand for some privacy. Either way, it was a good sign, because it meant she understood the gravity of this terrifying situation.
“Are you asking me or telling me? Because I’m definitely not the right person to ask.” Okay, so maybe she was just sitting up to make sure she didn’t fall asleep in the middle of their conversation. “It’s possible that she’s actually just in love with her coffee.”
“I’ve seen her drink coffee before, so that isn’t entirely unrealistic,” Anya mused. Lexa couldn’t tell if she was teasing her or not, because Clarke really did love her coffee.
“This is not helping!” Why had she decided to call Anya anyways? The woman in question gasped, affronted.
“Excuse you, I try my best to never be helpful before at least noon.” Why wasn’t Lexa friends with more morning people?
“Okay, but who do you think would be the right person to ask?”
“Literally anyone else.” And with that, she hung up. However, she had made a good point about there being better people to ask. Clarke’s friends would know her thought process better, right?
———
“Um...hello?” Lexa realized, belatedly, that this might be a slightly weird thing to do, seeing as she could count the number of one-on-one conversations she’d had with Raven on one hand. They’d hung out plenty of times, but it was always in a group, so it wasn’t like they were personally that close, but Lexa was a little desperate right now. She’d spent the past hour alternating between staring at her phone and an episode of some reality TV show, trying to decide whether or not she should send a text to Clarke, while she waited for Raven to finish her own morning class.
“Do you know if Clarke loves me?” It was usually best just to cut to the chase.
“Do I get any context here?”
“Do you need it?”
“...yes?” Lexa signed. Why couldn’t people just read her mind, so she didn’t have to repeatedly tell the story of how Clarke had terrifyingly strong feelings about either her or coffee?
“I gave Clarke an ice cube and coffee in a travel mug, and she said ‘I love you.’”
“That seems like a reasonable reaction.” This conversation didn’t seem to be going in a very helpful direction either.
“But do you think she meant it?” Lexa asks, a bit of her desperation bleeding into her voice, and maybe Raven took pity on her, because she takes up an uncharacteristically serious tone and says:
“All I know is that whenever Clarke hangs out with us, about half of her sentences end with something about you. Even when the conversation is completely unrelated, she somehow finds a way to bring it back around to everything she likes about you. One night, she got wine-drunk and talked about the way you say her name and your collarbones uninterrupted for about fifteen minutes straight. So, make of that what you will.”
“...my collarbones?”
“That’s your takeaway here?” Raven sighed, audibly and dramatically. “No wonder it took you so long to ask her out. You’re both idiots.” Lexa preferred the term “useless lesbian,” but she understood the sentiment nevertheless.
“That was...more helpful than expected,” Lexa admitted. “So, thank you, I think?”
“You think?” Raven scoffed. “I should start charging for my advice. I think it’s pretty good.”
“Like Lucy from the Peanuts comics?”
“No, like every other therapist. Why is that the reference you went with?”
“Clarke loves the Peanuts comics. And holiday specials.”
“Fucking hopeless,” Raven signed, and the beep from her phone signaled the end of the call. Why didn’t any of her friends know how to say goodbye like a normal person? Lexa supposed she wasn’t exactly in a position to question the dramatics of others, but still. It was only polite.
After that, Lexa went back to morosely staring at people making drama out of nothing on her television in order to make up content so they could get paid. Lexa was glad she was nothing like them. She still had another 2 hours to kill before her class, though, and reality TV beat staring at her phone and trying to telepathically tell Clarke to text her. Clarke didn’t really have time to call her, given how busy her schedule was, but they did usually exchange a couple of texts throughout the day. The texts often had the yearning tone of repressed Victorian lesbian lovers, but Lexa always enjoyed getting to talk to her nevertheless.
When said phone started buzzing, signaling a phone call, Lexa thought her telepathy might’ve worked, and unfortunately picked up without looking at the caller ID.
“Hi!” Lexa actually had no idea what else she wanted to say. She was hoping Clarke would just tell her everything she wanted to know without her having to actually ask any of the questions.
“Raven told me you were probably going to call me, so I decided to get ahead of it, but she didn’t describe you as weirdly excited about all this. The words she actually used were ‘panicked’ and ‘blind.’ Did you already talk to Clarke or something?”
Damn.
“Uh...no.”
“You thought I was Clarke, didn’t you?”
“...Yeah.”
“So why do you think this is an accidental love confession anyways?”
“I don’t know, don’t people usually say it for the first time in some big romantic moment? Not when they’re running out the door with a cup of coffee?”
“Don’t lesbians usually say it on the second date?” Good point. Octavia: 1, Lexa: 0.
“Maybe it slipped out before she was ready to say it, though! I’ve done that before,” Lexa protested.
“Okay, but Clarke told me she loved me after she’d known me for a week. She’s not shy with her affection, and she never seems to regret it, even when it’s yelled drunkenly at 2am. At least she was sober this time,” Octavia pointed out. Small blessings.
“I just don’t know if I should be pretending it didn’t happen so I don’t make things awkward for her,” Lexa admitted. Out of all of Clarke’s friends, Raven was probably her favorite, but Octavia was the one who she knew the best, since they did taekwondo together, so she only felt mildly uncomfortable admitting this, instead of deeply uncomfortable. There was probably something scientific to explain how sweating together bonds people, but Clarke was the pre-med student in the relationship, not Lexa. Maybe she’d ask her about that later tonight.
“Lexa, I love you, but you’re a fucking dumbass.” There were some muffled noises in the background and then Octavia said, “Sorry, Lincoln just got here, so I gotta go. Bye!” And on that complimentary note, she hung up. At least she said goodbye first.
So now apparently Octavia loved her too?
———
After her class, Lexa found herself loitering around the hallway where the history professors’ offices were, because apparently she was getting desperate now. Given that he had similarly high levels of nerdiness to her, this definitely seemed like a place he’d hang out. She wasn’t sure if he was a TA, but he was definitely the type to frequently visit his professors. She was also the type, but she wouldn’t admit to having anything else in common with him than their affection for Clarke. Hers was much stronger though, obviously. She was also better at being a nerd than him too, but that was less relevant.
“...Lexa?” Apparently the fates had decided to cut her a break now, as recompense for her rough morning.
“Bellamy. I had a question for you, and I thought I might find you here.”
“Why didn’t you just text me?” he asked, brow furrowed.
“I don’t have your number, obviously.”
“Lexa, we’re in several group chats together.”
“You should just be glad I remembered your name, Barney.” He sighed, which was a reasonable response. “I don’t consider us to be friends, but unfortunately, I think we’re going to be stuck with each other for the foreseeable future.”
“Did Clarke propose?” Lexa couldn’t tell if his excitement was genuine, or if he was just joking, and she was too preoccupied with the thought of Clarke in a wedding dress to figure it out. “I-Is that something she’s thinking about?” It couldn’t hurt to ask.
“Well, no, she hasn’t said anything, but I also wouldn’t be surprised if she did.” Lexa opened and closed her mouth a couple of times like a fish out of water, while Bellamy looked infuriatingly calm. She decided to put that away and process it later, because there was a much more pressing issue to focus on.
“I was going to tell you that she accidentally said she loved me, and I was wondering if she’d said anything to you to indicate that she really meant it.”
“I just told you that I wouldn’t be surprised if Clarke proposed to you, and you want to know if she really loves you?”
“Yes, try to keep up here Bernard.”
“Lexa, do you love her?” Fuck. Why hadn’t she thought of that yet?
“Fuck,” she said, because that was all most of her thoughts were composed of at this point.
“No one can answer that question but you, Lexa, and I think that’s really what you should be thinking about here.” He patted her on the shoulder, and walked into a teacher’s office. Because today was the day of dramatic exits, apparently.
———
As Lexa walked back to her apartment, scowling and barely restraining herself from muttering in annoyance like a cartoon villain, her phone vibrated with a text notification. Her heart rate spiked, but quickly returned to normal when she saw that it was just from Anya.
Anya had a habit of picking past conversations as if they hadn’t occurred several hours ago, and didn’t typically bother to give context. For second, Lexa thought Anya meant she should ask Clarke if Lexa loved her, before she remembered that telepathy didn’t exist and Anya had no idea what Bellamy had just said to her.
Lexa didn’t dignify that with a response.
———
Now that she was home, Lexa collapsed dramatically on her couch, settling in for a good hour or two of overthinking, turning the reality TV on again for some background noise. It was around 2pm, and Lexa was fully prepared to use all her remaining time before Clarke finished mixing her chemicals or whatever it was that she did in her chem lab to painstakingly analyze their entire relationship. Anya had a surprisingly good point, but she figured it was a conversation that was better suited to have in person than over text on phones under the lab tables. She did have homework that she could and probably should be working on, but deciding if she loved her girlfriend was a more pressing issue at the moment.
It was just, how did you know you loved someone? Lexa knew she cared a lot about Clarke, but when did caring a lot become loving? She hadn’t grown up in an especially affectionate household, so the line between liking and loving was clearly drawn for her. Liking meant caring and wanting to spend time together and do nice things for each other, but loving meant being vulnerable and fully letting someone in and risking them leaving and destroying all of her heart instead of just part of it. But was it a decision to love someone, or did it just happen, whether she wanted it to or not? The difference was clear, but whether or not she had stepped over the line or not yet herself was much less clear.
Her thoughts ran around in circles, not landing anywhere in particular, and then she heard the sound of the door opening and she still had no idea what she was going to say. Half of her was panicking, but the other half of her was excited to finally see Clarke again, as she always was on Fridays.
“Hey, babe!” Clarke called out, crashing through the door with her backpack on, and various other (presumably school related) items in her arms. Lexa wasn’t sure why she was holding a plastic bag filled with marshmallows and toothpicks, but she had more important things on her mind at the moment.
“Hi,” Lexa responded, trying to pull herself into an upright position on the couch. Clarke came over, having thrown everything on the kitchen table, and sat down in her girlfriend’s lap, one hand running through her hair, while the other grabbed the remote to turn off the TV. Which was probably a good idea, because one could only consume so much fake housewife drama in a day before losing their mind.
“I heard you’ve been talking to all my friends today.” Oh god. “Even ‘Barney.’” Fuck.
“I...got lonely?” Clarke clearly wasn’t buying it.
“They told me what you asked them.” Damn, why hadn’t she thought of swearing them to secrecy? Oh right, because she was supposed to be having this conversation with Clarke and asking her how she felt instead of pretending this morning didn’t happen. “I do love you,” she said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “And I know you’ve only said it three times in your life -- twice to your parents, and once at a Teagan and Sara concert -- so I understand if you aren’t ready to say it back.”
“Fucking Benedict asked me if I loved you. He’s annoyingly helpful.”
“Oh I know,” Clarke laughed. “I love that smug asshole.” Lexa envied the easy way that the words fell from her girlfriend’s lips. It didn’t feel anywhere close to that simple for her. Enough of her panic must’ve shown on her face, because Clarke leaned down to kiss her softly, before settling down, her back to Lexa’s front, and turned the TV back on. Switching the channel to HGTV, obviously.
And there they sat, Clarke making comments every so often about the unrealistic wish list of a couple or the state of the carpets in a house. Her girlfriend, who loved her, sat in her lap and they watched “House Hunters,” and there was no pressure for her to say it back and suddenly, it was spilling out of her lips and into Clarke’s hair without a thought.
“What was that?” Clarke asked, smiling and turning herself around.
“You know what I said. Don’t push your luck.” But she mumbled the three words against her girlfriend’s lips once more as they kissed, just in case she needed to hear it again.