Work Text:
The stairs are available to Lexa again the day after the elevator incident, and while some part of her enjoys looking at Clarke enough to share a confined space, there are only certain parameters she’s okay with. One: minimal occupancy. Two: quiet. What happened yesterday…Lexa doesn’t care to repeat the experience any time soon.
She always wakes and readies herself early enough to join the morning commuters in the coffee-shop line, just between the subway line and her office. As she pushes open the door with one hand, Lexa is immediately greeted by a humidity and the smell of roasted goodness that make the steam that fogs her glasses forgivable. She lets the heady scent fill her and pushes her glasses up on to her head, so she can see her way into the small cafe. She’s been here enough over the past years that she could likely navigate it blind irrespective, so the slight blur and lack of focus to her vision are not necessarily a cause for her concern as she joins the back of a short line to be served.
It’s habit that when it’s her turn she opens her mouth to give her order, and when the barista cuts her off gently with a smile and a wave of her hand: “Same as usual, boss?” They ask, cheerily. Lexa can only grin slightly in return and nod. She waits idly, swiping her phone open while she waits to check emails from her work address. Gustus had come back with a response.
Lexa,
I agree we need to speak more about the Kellerman account. It would be useful if you could be available during our progress meeting next week here. We’ll start at 7AM so you wouldn’t have to stay up too late. :)
Lexa allows herself a smile at this. She’d been hoping for earlier, really, but 3AM in New York was child’s play to so many, and Lexa was true to the adage. An integral member of ‘The City That Never Sleeps’ fan club. There were no Letterman jackets to be had, rather, an uncanny ability to list at least four eateries local that would deliver past 2AM, and an addiction to coffee.
If you could respond at your earliest convenience, so I can let Marcus know whether we need to set up the projector for your attendance.
Hope to see (virtually) you there!
Gus
Lexa closes the email and drops her phone into her bag just as the barista slides a brown bag across the counter, and in the next few seconds, her coffee.
“Black, with one sugar and a hint of cream. Just the way you like it.”
Lexa hoists her bag up on to her shoulder more securely and leafs through it to produce her wallet. She flips it open and scans the loyalty card, using points to pay since she has no spare change to hand.
“Thanks, Ella,” Lexa smiles at the younger girl, takes a cautious sip and hums appreciatively. “You’re a life-saver, you know that?” It wasn’t really true, but Lexa watches the quiet blush creep over the girl’s face and she thinks that this probably makes her day. It’s harmless. She lets her wallet fall back into her bag and picks her pastry and coffee into one hand and nods a goodbye to Ella. Successfully navigating past the still-waiting patrons, she shoulders her way back out of the door and walks the block distance to her office, a route she walks so often she forgets that her glasses are perched on her head until the very moment she enters the building.
As she she walks into the revolving door, she can make out a very blurry blonde in front who pushes way too fast and forces her to catch up quickly so as to avoid being smacked in the back - as she all but falls gracelessly from the spinning deathtrap (something that makes Lexa grit her teeth in annoyance; she is a professional dammit), she stumbles directly into the person in front of her.
“Oh shi—,” Time seems to slow as Lexa’s eyes, unfocused as they may be, track the movement of her still-hot beverage as it seems to explode from it’s cup - the hot liquid forced up and sideways and all over the both of them; down Lexa’s front, and equally, down the back of the person she’d walked into.
The heat of it caused both of them to yelp in pain - Lexa drops her cup with the surprise, and the woman in front jolts forward and then spins wildly, searching for the culprit. Lexa recovers first, and fixes her glasses on to her face, the better to focus on the person she’d likely just given third degree burns. An apology, quick and professional as one can muster, is on the tip of her tongue, when she realises who she’s embarrassed herself in front of.
Clarke. She opens her mouth to speak, but Clarke goes first.
“Oh my god, Ms Flet—Lexa, are you okay?” Her gaze was fixed on a point that was definitely not anywhere near her face. She looks down to where her assistant is staring and looks at her chest. Interesting. Ignoring the stained shirt that had been freshly pressed this morning with a frown, she sees that the exposed skin, from her collarbone down, even so far as the dip of her cleavage, is red and blistering.
“Does it hurt?” Her hand is stretched halfway out, tentative, and Lexa almost wants her to touch the reddened flesh. But they’re in the lobby of their office, and this is not the place. Lexa lifts one shoulder in a shrug.
“A bit,” and even admitting that feels like something she shouldn’t have done. It doesn’t hurt, much, but for some reason Clarke’s eyes will her to be honest and she finds the truth pouring from her mouth. “It stings.”
Clarke looks a little lost at that moment, and Lexa, beyond her control, finds herself smiling. She lifts her hand in a placating gesture and then, as if her hand has a mind of her own, she gestures to Clarke.
“Is your back…?”
Clarke swivels on the spot almost immediately and then attempts to twist herself backwards so she can see Lexa as she inspects whatever damage she did. Lexa, meanwhile, is gnawing the inside of her lip - mainly because Clarke is only wearing a thin white shirt, and since the coffee soaked through, Lexa can see everything. This is not happening.
“Okay there, Lexa?” Clarke’s honeyed tone sounds amused, and Lexa straightens, doing her best to look unaffected.
“I have a few spare shirts, thankfully, in my office,” Lexa’s lips come together in a tight line as she addresses Clarke more formally, and Lexa snaps into business mode, “…which are doubtlessly better suited to a work environment, in any case.”
Clarke’s expression doesn’t really change from the attractive smile she was wearing, and it unnerves Lexa. Most people would quail under this level of glare. She lifts one brow, challenging, but Clarke just holds her gaze and then says: “Thank god you have something spare, this was all I had clean, my washer is on the blink.” She dutifully follows Lexa to the staircase and they ascend in silence, save for Lexa’s occasional remark on what things will need to be done. Clarke says little in return, her head bowed, blonde hair falling loose over one shoulder as she murmurs her ascent.
When they reach their floor, Clarke has to lean against the wall by the water cooler for a second; she lets out a huff that, to Lexa, doesn’t really sound too genuine. Besides, Clarke is in great shape. Not that she’d noticed.
“Phew!” Clarke pushes off from the wall and gives her boss a once-over that she doesn’t hide, but Lexa pretends not to notice. “I don’t know how you brave these stairs in heels so much.” Lexa doesn’t respond for a second, she just stares intensely at her, and Clarke’s palms start to sweat. Thankfully for Clarke, her senior decides to walk to her office, and doesn’t notice her flex her fingers or hear her sigh quietly to herself. Clarke follows, thankful they’re both here just early enough that there’s yet to be anyone else in the office to stare or ask dumb questions.
Lexa turns and offers a shirt to Clarke. She only has three shirts here, and they hang hidden in a cubby by the leather three-seater and the long side table.
Clarke accepts the shirt with a smile and starts unbuttoning the one she’s wearing. “You know, we have to stop meeting like that.”
Lexa clears her throat but turns away as she responds - "I agree. At least next time let's make the projectile less harmful."
She can’t look, it would be inappropriate. But she really wants to, especially when she hears Clarke's laugh. It's cute. Would it be so bad, if? Lexa reasons that, actually, they’re both women, both professional and both needing to start work. They had no time to separate to change and risk being seen by their colleagues and questioned as to why they were in so early, or why one was wearing a stained shirt. So it makes sense. But she will not turn around. She can’t do that, now. What she does do, is unbutton her own shirt swiftly, intent on trading it for the dark grey in front of her, laid on the desk. As she shrugs her sleeves down her arms and pulls the shirt off, she hears Clarke’s breath catch, and she can’t help but smile. Not many would guess that someone as apparently tight-laced and ‘robotic’ had an entire canvas on her back. She was proud of it, and if Clarke asked, she would explain it to her. But not today. Not here.
“You okay there, Clarke?” She echoes Clarke’s previous words and listens for a reply. She doesn’t see Clarke nod dumbly before heaving a breath and saying:
“Oh, yeah, yep, I’m totally fine, no worries,” she babbles, and Lexa grins some more, but does not turn around. “I’ll just, uh, I’ll just go get the um…” she trails off and Lexa hears her office door shut before she allows herself a small laugh. Yep, still got it.