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It's a snug fit in the broom closet, but she decided it was a good day to wear a crop top so visibly under her robe, and you've been on duty for just about an hour and a half by now, and honestly, it's a miracle you didn't lose your cool five minutes in, with her skin obnoxiously pressing against yours as you roamed the halls checking for infractions. Plus, you're damned sure she wore her hair up today, revealing the skin you love like far too just to fuck with you, and so here you are, in a ridiculously small closet, your bodies hitting unknown objects as you attempt to manoeuvre the pitch blackroom as best you can. Your lips are trailing down her neck and her hands are dipping lower by the minute, and your fingers are grabbing at her shorts button when you both hear a loud squeak, presumably from some furniture you've adjusted by accident, and you both jump apart, and her hands detach from your hips to pull at her tangled hair, and you're mindlessly fidgeting, as you wait for someone outside to call out for the both of you, and when the sounds of another student, possibly one of the other prefects asking for whoever was in the closet reverberate into the small area, you instinctively cover Lexa's hand with your mouth as you reply, and when the footsteps become faint, she takes it upon herself to shoot a glare your way, using one hand to push your hand off of her, and the other to pull at the door.
"Duty calls, Griffin."
"It does, indeed."
You both spend the rest of the time required with a gap between your bodies, the heat from before not forgotten, but not mentioned either. She has her signature scowl pointed at any unruly students, and your smile at every one of them after her, as if an apology for her. You've done this so many times, it's like instinct at this point, and at the end of your duty, you go your separate ways with scarce goodbyes.
"Tonight?" She speaks, her voice level but quiet.
"Sure. Your dorm? Gryff's having a, uhm, party."
"Huh. Wouldn't want to disturb that then, would we?" The smirk that graces her features is frustrating and stupidly attractive, and so you scoff at her instead of providing a proper response, and you walk in the opposite direction, but you don't turn back quick enough to notice that she watches you the whole way.
//
That night is like many before, and many you're sure will be, with your body flush against hers as you lose yourself beneath her, and her breaths ragged as you kiss your way down her body, as if making a map of all the spots you love enjoy, and it's not difficult to tell that she's liking this as much as you are, so when you finally look back into her eyes after an extremely rigorous round you can't keep the smug smile off your face at the memory of her voice, low and begging, and when you lay back next to her you feel a pillow hit your face, her form of petty revenge, but it's worth it when you see the smile that she wears even as she says, "Shut up, Griffin."
"I didn't say a word, Lexa."
"Uh huh."
You fall asleep to the sounds of her breaths slowing down, and the smell of the rose body wash she uses is the scent surrounding you as your arm wraps around her torso and her leg brushes against yours, but the next morning in the cold light of day you pick up the clothes hastily discarded the night before, and you cover her bare body with the duvet that usually sits by her bed when you’re her source of warmth, and your footsteps are light as you sneak back into your dorm, but you know you’re fucked when the light is shining at five am and Octavia’s sitting, arms crossed, on her bed, ready to chastise you, and so you take the chance to speak before she can.
“You’re awake? At five? On a Saturday? Are we all dying, O?” You attempt to lilt your tone with humour, but she appears unaffected as she continues glaring at you, and so you relent.
“I was...sleeping over? With someone?”
“By someone, do you mean the commander?”
“First of all, why do you insist on calling her that? She’s not even that scary.” She raises an eyebrow and you shrug before you continue, “What? Secondly, don’t say it like that! So, I was with Lexa! So what?”
Her resolve seems to falter at the exasperation clear in your voice, but it doesn’t stop her from speaking her mind anyway.
“C’mon, Clarke. You know better.” And even though she’s never been one for rules you can hear that all of this comes out of concern for you, and that makes you shift your gaze to the ground, and you let her continue.
“There’s a reason head girls aren’t allowed to ‘date’ or whatever, you know it’ll just complicate things.”
Your argument comes out as nothing more than a mumble, and it sounds ridiculous and unbelievable, even to you.
“We’re not dating, O.”
“Oh? So fucking’s permitted then?” You glance at her in irritation as she looks at you, challenging.
You settle beside her, your eyes still blazing at her anger, and so she raises her arms in mock defeat before she speaks again, this time her voice softer, a hand resting on your shoulder.
“Clarke. You’ve worked harder than anyone to get where you are. I’m just worried about you.” She smiles at you, and it’s wary and holds a warning, but you reciprocate it, and the subject is dropped altogether.
“So. Why were you up so early, anyway?”
“Ugh. Don’t even get me started. They made me designated lookout. I spent all night looking out for, well, you, and your friend, and I ended up cleaning up after those assholes all night.”
You laugh, and it’s ridiculous, and silly but its five thirty am on a Saturday, and you’re with your best friend, and it’s far too early to be thinking about anything more.
It doesn’t stop your mind from wandering all day, though.
//
Lexa approaches you with a spring in her step that’s rarely ever there that afternoon, and her hair falls perfectly in the waves you enjoy combing through, and the way she grins at you makes you feel like you’re falling, or maybe flying, and she greets you with a little giggle you would find annoying on anyone else, but on her usually stoic expression it’s elegant, and it sounds like its own brand of music, and so any other thought you have on your mind is pushed away as her lips press against yours and you taste the lip gloss she’s insistent on wearing despite your constant reassurance that she tastes fine, and so you think, anything you have to say could wait one more day.
But you don’t know you’re falling, and it’s too fast, and it’s too soon, and it can’t end in anything other than heartbreak, but her lips are hot on your neck and her eyes are trained to yours and for a moment, anything really is possible.