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The sharp burn of the cold water drags a gasp from Clarke's lungs as she steps into the stream. She hunches her shoulders, curls her toes.
"Remind me why we're doing this?" she asks Lexa.
Bobbing lightly up and down several feet away, Lexa gives her a thin smile. "It's impractical not to know how to swim, Clarke."
Clarke takes a step deeper into the small pool dammed off from the rest of the river. The water has already numbed her feet, and now it begins to lap at her calves. Another step in; she blows out a hiss of air through gritted teeth.
"Why is it so impractical? We've done fine so far."
"A warrior never shies away from learning a valuable skill because it's unpleasant."
"Are you enjoying this, Lexa?"
Lexa's eyebrows twitch upwards, but otherwise her face is the picture of stoicism. (Clarke is reassured once again that her decision not to introduce Lexa to poker was the correct one.)
"Enjoying your learning of a new skill? Of course I am."
Clarke rolls her eyes, fighting a smile. "Yeah, that's definitely what I meant."
Tossing her arms lightly to her sides, Lexa reclines in the water, letting it support her. Her hair orbits out in thick strings. "Just submerge your head, Clarke. It's better once you start to get used to the temperature."
"And freeze my entire body? Yeah, no thanks."
"Trust me," Lexa urges, mouth and voice soft. The words pull at Clarke's insides, as she's sure they were designed to.
The terrible sting of the mountain run-off stream wins out, though, and she stays right where it is.
Lexa watches her with calculating eyes. "Don't make me do this, Clarke," she says, a slow smile curving her mouth. She straightens in the water, taking long, water-slow strides in Clarke's direction.
Clarke takes a step backward, but it's not enough. Lexa bats the water like she would a fly, sending shattered crystals of icy river splattering up Clarke's t-shirt, neck, face.
There's a hard, painful clench in Clarke's gut; her heart squeezes and then jams itself up into her throat. Finn, she thinks. Finn splashed me, pulled me in with him. Her eyes sting and her chest aches—
and then Lexa, agile and quick, has darted behind her and leapt onto her back, latching on with arms and legs freezing from the cold water.
Clarke shrieks even as her balance tips. Lexa's skin is freezing, her grip tight, her laughter in Clarke's ear as lighthearted as ever.
Not Finn, she thinks. Finn was before the alliance, the battle, the merging of the clans, the peace. The arms clasped around her shoulders are Lexa's; the brown hair spilling forward to drip down her front is Lexa's; the weight on her back and the lightness in her heart is Lexa.
Equilibrium biting the dust, they both topple forward into the freezing—freezing!—water, limbs tangling, breaths held. There are a few moments of cold, cold water that squeezes Clarke's lungs in her chest and floundering limbs and uncertainty regarding the direction up, and then her feet find the stony bottom and she pushes herself to standing.
Lexa's most childish grin greets her. (Clarke forgets how young Lexa is, sometimes.)
"Are you finally ready to learn?" Lexa asks, a tint of false, playful impatience in her voice. Water drips from her nose, her eyelashes, her smiling cheeks.
Clarke just stares at her a moment, but she's never been as adept at poker as she's sure Lexa would be: there's nothing she can do to prevent herself from smiling back.
"Yeah," she says, "I think I'm ready."