Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

eyes the color of water left in mud / ice and sugar dust, crazy green flashes / it’s a funny thing that i cannot explain / don’t you know the train keeps rolling?

“Stop The World I Wanna Get Off With You” by Arctic Monkeys

There is exactly one bed, one dresser, one refrigerator, one microwave, and one table in Lexa’s new apartment. She managed to transport all the necessities for her apartment on her own, but the moving truck with the remainder of her belongings is two days off schedule, to her annoyance.

Her roommate is supposed to arrive tonight as well, but it’s almost midnight and Lexa’s about to give up waiting and go to bed. It would allow her to avoid maintaining an interaction with an almost-stranger without the presence of a TV or something to quell the moments of awkward silence that will inevitably fall between them. She only has an unfurnished living room, and a kitchen with two stools, and some pots and pans. She bought two six-packs of beer and food from a restaurant down the street to make up for the lack of furniture.

If her roommate was going to show up at all.

Lincoln’s girlfriend, Octavia, had found her roommate for her since Lexa had been adamant about not getting a Craigslist roommate.

(“Craigslist roommates will most likely have undisclosed information about themselves,” Lexa explains to the two of them over lunch. “What if they’re a convict or sexual predator or a mule or some shit.”

“Well, at least you know the mule can pay the rent,” Octavia says, and Lincoln laughs.)

Lexa pops the cap on another beer and sits at the kitchen bar (because there is no TV or Wi-Fi) and opens the texts Octavia sent her about her new roommate.

O: her name is Clarke Griffin. she just graduated from the city so she knows her way around. could introduce u to some of her friends since ur new here (myself included)

O: moved the rest of her stuff out of her mom’s house like the next state over and got a job here too so she can def pay rent

O: pretty sure shes not a convict or sexual offender or mule. ive known her since she was like 12 im pretty sure. but idk college might’ve changed her

O: jk clarke is basically harmless nyway heres her number

Lexa rolls her eyes and sips her drink, going over to her messages with Clarke over the past week. They had exchanged formalities and arranged who was bringing what, as well as small talk. Lexa hopes Clarke is as funny (and punctual) in real life as she is over the phone.

She’s just about to head to bed when a voice rings through her apartment buzzer.

//

Clarke rubs her eyes as she stands outside her car, stretching her legs out. It’s nearly midnight, and she had been rooted behind the wheel of her car for at least twelve hours, having driven all the way out to the city from her mom’s house (and sat in traffic and tried not to nap in the driver’s seat whenever she stopped at rest stops). She is about ready to drop dead.

I’ll get the boxes out of the car in the morning, she thinks to herself, pulling her backpack over her shoulders as she approaches the apartment building, searching for her new apartment number on the resident list. She finds Lexa’s number and presses the button beside it.

“Hey, Lexa. It’s me, Clarke,” she says, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders. “It’s freezing out here so if you would be so kind as to let me in, that would be fantastic.”

Clarke bounces in place as she waits for a response, trying to keep her toes warm. The speaker crackles in response.

“Yeah, I’ll buzz you in,” she hears Lexa’s voice say as the gate to the apartment building unlocks.

//

Clarke walks down the hall, fatigue causing her to drag her feet as she reads the numbers on the doors.

Hope Lexa has a couch set up because I’m going straight to sleep when I get inside, she tells herself as she stands before apartment number 044. She knocks.

Her mind disregards her last thought when she registers the brunette in the doorway.

Oh fuck, she’s hot.

Her jaw drops. Or metaphorically drops, because right now she’s supposed to be Cool, Calm, and Collected (and Tired) Clarke (who has also just driven twelve hours across a desert and smelly farm farm fields to get to this very apartment), not Clarke Who Blushes at Every Hot Girl Who She Sees Because She Is Tired As Hell And Has Been Driving For Twelve Hours.

Right now, she is the latter.

Lexa quirks a brow, believing she had buzzed in a lost college student (with chubby cheeks that she refuses to admit are adorable and blue eyes that reminds Lexa of the lake where she grew up) instead of her new roommate.

Normally, Clarke would be intimidated by a beautiful girl with Lexa’s dark, smokey eyeshadow, full lips, perfectly chiseled nose, high cheeks, and smolder. Especially since she’s standing in front of said girl with a sky blue fleece blanket draped around her shoulders, dressed in her college hoodie and sweat pants, with (coincidentally) her college backpack on her back. But Clarke’s too tired to even care, and she thinks her confidence is boosted by the exhaustion running through her veins.

“Octavia didn’t tell me you were hot,” she blurts, immediately snapping her mouth shut after the words slip out. Lexa’s lips turn upward in a one-sided smirk.

“Likewise,” she responds, her cheeks growing embarrassingly hot. It’s probably the alcohol. Probably.

The blonde stares into Lexa’s grey eyes for a beat too long. “I’m Clarke.”

“I’m Lexa. Come in.” They shake hands. Lexa doesn’t even mind the time right now as Clarke steps into the foyer, dropping her backpack beside the door. The blonde isn’t bad to look at. Not bad at all, actually.

“You hungry?” Lexa asks, heading back to her bar stool. “I’ve got beer and take-out.”

“Yes, please,” Clarke says, sitting beside her and Lexa pops the bottle cap off a beer on the countertop. Smooth.

//

Clarke forgets about her exhaustion once her stomach is full of Thai take-out. She and Lexa sit at the counter, exchanging stories and experiences, sharing laughs. Lexa asks about the city and Clarke asks about her hometown, and at some point in the night, Clarke’s ass starts hurting from the wooden bar stool so she lies back on the floor instead, her belly warm from the beer and take-out.

“That feels better,” Clarke says, yawning as she balances her fourth beer on her stomach. Lexa sits down besides her. “I’ve been driving for twelve hours, I think I’m about to die. But I like what you’ve done to the place,” she tells the brunette, gesturing at the (literally) spotless room and making an imaginary snow angel.

Lexa smiles. “Thanks. The moving truck is gonna be two days late,” she explains. “Got lost in Utah. All I’ve got right now is a bed.”

“Mm, bed sounds nice,” Clarke says, closing her eyes.

“When is your stuff coming in?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Clarke says, opening her eyes again, catching Lexa watching her. She quickly looks away, and Clarke pulls her fleece blanket up to her waist. “My bed’s in the moving truck. This blanket’s all I’ve got right now.”

Then the realization hits both of them.

“I can sleep on the floor tonight,” Clarke says, sitting up just as Lexa says,

“You’re not sleeping on the floor.”

There is a beat of silence and then―

“It’s no problem, really,” Clarke tries, as Lexa says,

“It’s a hardwood floor.”

“I can sleep in my car,” Clarke tries again, returning Lexa’s smile.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lexa says, laughing quietly. “You just sat in it for twelve hours, I’m pretty sure you don’t want to spend another nine in it trying to sleep.”

“I really don’t,” Clarke admits, smiling slightly.

“No hotel room either,” Lexa says before Clarke can speak again. “My bed can fit us both, anyway,” she adds.

Clarke quirks a brow, grinning mischievously. “Are we going there, Adams? I’ve known you for a whole…” She looks around for a wall clock and finds none. Checks her wrist for her watch but remembers she left it in her glove box in her car. She goes for her phone, finally, surprised at all the notifications she missed since she and Lexa met. “A whole two hours.”

The brunette shrugs. “Technically, two weeks over the phone. But we’re going there, Clarke. Unless you really want to sleep on the floor.”

Clarke quickly shakes her head. “I’m good, thanks!” She downs the rest of her drink and stands up. “Which way to your room? I’m about to pass the fuck out.”

//

Clarke doesn’t realize how tired she is until she is changed into sleepwear and properly embeds herself in Lexa’s mattress and pillows. She feels her body relax almost immediately, her eyes shutting.

“I think your bed is a marshmallow,” she tells Lexa when she hears the girl come in from the bathroom, her voice muffled by Lexa’s pillow.

(Which smells faintly like berries or lavender or something pleasantly sweet, but Clarke is distracted by how plush it feels against her cheek.)

“Better than the floor?”

“Much better than the floor.”

Lexa smiles and climbs under the duvet. “I didn’t keep you up, did I?”

“You kind of did,” Clarke says, sleep plaguing her voice. But before the sinking feeling in Lexa’s chest can settle, she adds, “But I didn’t mind. You made up for it with Thai food and beer.” A pause. Clarke shifts on her side of the bed, cracking open an eye and watching Lexa beside her, her face devoid of makeup. Her features seem much softer at the edges. “Plus, it was nice talking to you. You’re a good conversationalist.”

“Thank you,” Lexa says, and Clarke burrows further into Lexa’s blankets, her eyes closed.

“Do me a favor, though.”

“What?”

“Don’t wake me up until it’s past noon, please. I need my beauty sleep.”

Lexa smiles. “All right then,” she tells her.

“Good night, Lexa,” Clarke says and nestles herself further into Lexa’s blankets.

Her face smooths out, and Lexa observes the length of her eyelashes and the curve of her nose. Then she remembers she’s supposed to say something back.

“Good night, Clarke.”

She’s doesn’t know how she feels about sharing her bed with an almost-stranger, but in this moment, Clarke’s behavior reminds her that of exhausted puppy, and Lexa decides that she doesn’t really care.

But she also hasn’t shared a bed with anyone since Costia. And she doesn’t want to accidentally develop feelings for her roommate, who also happens to be one of her only friends in the city.

But another part of her would’ve hated herself if she had left Clarke to sleep on the hardwood floor or her car after a long drive. Lexa wasn’t raised like that.

So she deals with it instead. It’s only for a night. Clarke is a nice girl, it’s not the end of the world. Nothing’s going to happen. They’re just sharing a bed for the night. Feelings not included.

Though they’ve met officially a little over two hours ago, they are both a little buzzed and a lot tired. They stay on their respective sides of the bed, and when Lexa shuts off the light, Clarke’s already asleep.

(Which is saying a lot for Lexa, because her “respective” side of the bed is the entire bed.)

//

There is a pleasant warmth against Clarke’s side. She stirs in her sleep, her body inclining instinctively towards it, and in her light slumber, she thinks she detects the faint scent of raspberry.

That warmth is very much coming from Lexa’s own body nestled up against hers, and that sweet aroma is very much coming from Lexa’s hair.

Which Clarke’s nose is very much buried into.

Her eyes snap open, and it is Clarke’s natural reflex to jerk out from beneath Lexa’s sleeping form. But she doesn’t. Partially because she can’t move because the brunette’s head is on her shoulder and her arm is hooked around Clarke’s, body pressed neatly against Clarke’s side.

Just don’t wake her up.

The last thing Clarke wants is an awkward tension with her only roommate because they were caught cuddling after knowing each other for less than twenty-four hours.

It’s still mostly dark out, but the glow of dawn peeks through the window. Now that she’s awake, Clarke can’t help but watch Lexa sleep under cover of darkness.

Her eyelashes are perfectly curled, skin looking well hydrated and healthy. Lexa’s disheveled hair is tickling Clarke’s arm, and her breaths are low and even. Her eyes are free of her smokey eyeshadow, her features smooth and line-free. Clarke admires the curve of her nose, and the full shape of her lips. Lexa’s cheek presses gently against the curve of Clarke’s shoulder with her hand tucked into the crook of Clarke’s arm.

Clarke finds herself staring before she can stop herself.

This is your roommate, Clarke. Now’s not the damn time to develop crushes, especially when you’re sharing the same damn bed.

Her bed, another voice tells her. Lexa’s bed.

Clarke fights back the urge to groan for fear of waking Lexa up. Instead, she closes her eyes and wills herself to go back to sleep.

//

Clarke is on the edge of slumber when she thinks she hears a shift in Lexa’s breathing. Lexa’s head moves against her shoulder, and her fingers curl around Clarke’s bicep before Lexa lifts her head from Clarke’s shoulder. Clarke misses the warmth almost immediately.

“Shit,” she hears Lexa murmur under her breath and her brain is screaming at her to OPEN YOUR EYES!.

Ever so slowly, Clarke feels Lexa peel herself away, the comforting warmth from her body at Clarke’s side replaced with the bitter cold of the morning.

Lexa shuffles across the bed slowly until her feet touch the cold hardwood, and it isn’t until Clarke hears the door to the bedroom shut gently behind her before she releases the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Chapter Text

all we do is think about the feelings that we hide / all we do is sit in silence waiting for a sign / ... / overanalyze again, would it really kill you if we kissed?

“Drive” by Halsey

 Current Groupchat with: The Delinquents (Bellossom [Bellamy], Octagon [Octavia], & Rae Rae [Raven])

Clarke (9:02am): Guys. Guys

Clarke (9:02am): Lexa is HOT!! Octavia why didn’t u tell me u jerk I drove for 12 hrs n showed up in sweatpants looking like death last night

Clarke (9:03am): And then we slept in her bed TOGETHER BOTH OF US

Bellamy (9:05am): You slept with her already Clarke?

Octavia (9:06am): i was going for the element of surprise for when u two  met clarke bc u both hot but this is somethin else

Clarke (9:10am): No we didn’t sleep together we just shared her bed

Clarke (9:12am): ANYWAYS that’s not the point we shared the bed because the floors are hardwood and Lexa’s moving truck is gonna be two days late n mine is showing up today and she didn’t want me to sleep on the floor

Octavia (9:12am): aw lexa how sweet

Clarke (9:12am): But I woke up at like 6am today and she was cuddling with me in her sleep!! WE WERE CUDDLING

Clarke (9:12am): SHE IS A GODDESS

Clarke (9:13am): She’s so pretty and smells nice I think I like her but she’s my roommate n we cuddled like once am I being thirsty right now

Bellamy (9:14am): Yes

Octavia (9:14am): no

Bellamy (9:14am): O’s lying

Octavia (9:14am): shut up bell

Octavia (9:14am): but we might need a THIRST AID KIT up in here if u catch my drift

Clarke (9:15am): (unamused face emoji)

Octavia (9:15am): bc clarke’s a medic. get it

Octavia (9:15am): anyways who got up first?

Clarke (9:15am): She did but I pretended I was still asleep but she was like “shit” when she got up

Clarke (9:15am): Like bad “shit” not good “shit”. Like I just woke up from a one night stand “shit”

Octavia (9:15am): What’s she doing right now

Clarke (9:15am): She’s in the kitchen right now but idk what she’s doing bc all we have is beer in the apartment

Bellamy (9:16am): Go out there Clarke assess the situation

Octavia (9:17am): yeah go out there invite her to breakfast or something

Clarke (9:17am): but do I go for it?? Do I flirt? Should I flirt I met her like 11 hrs ago

Octavia (9:19am): dont flirt yet. see how she acts around u and if u feelin it, go for it

Octavia (9:20am): u gotta be careful clarke ur gonna be living with her for a while it might make it weird

Octavia (9:20am): maybe let it play out. or do wat u gotta do whatever u wanna do

Bellamy (9:20am): What she said

Octavia (9:21am): thanks bell

Clarke (9:22am): Ok I’m goin

Octavia (9:22am): to FLIRT???

Clarke (9:23am): No!! To go ask her to get breakfast

Octavia (9:23am): ok tell us how it goes (kissy face emoji)

...

Raven (9:35am): I’m up guys what did I miss

Raven (9:35am): Hold on Clarke I’ve known u for seven yrs u haven’t even kissed me yet

Clarke (9:35am): Raven we drunk kissed like a million times in college you’re fine

Bellamy (9:36am): ...what...

Clarke (9:37am): Also I’m still laying in her bed

Bellamy (9:37am): GO

Octavia (9:37am): Clarke get out i’m gna kick ur ass

Raven (9:38am): Let us know how it goes bubz (kissy face emoji)

Raven (10:00am): Also O you totally stole that thirst aid kit joke from me

Octavia (10:02am): (heart)

//

Lexa wakes up slowly. There is no alarm, no dog barking next door, no babies crying, no cars revving their engines outside her window. There is only warmth. A wholesome, comforting warmth that would have made her chest swell and her heart soar if she had been fully conscious.

She blinks, her eyes adjusting to the light, and then she realizes exactly where she is.

And exactly where Clarke is.

And exactly where their bodies are touching.

Instead, her heart rate speeds up, and she’s fully conscious now. And she’s cuddling with Clarke. Nestled against Clarke’s arm, her head against the blonde’s upper arm.

She picks her head up off her shoulder instantly. “Shit,” she says under her breath, mentally berating herself for doing exactly what she told herself not to do.

Lexa gets up as gently as possible, careful not to rouse Clarke. All she wants is to get away for now. Leave the room, sort out... whatever she was feeling right now. To not let any of them simmer longer than they have been that morning. She just needs to get out. Mostly because she is unsure of how she would explain herself if Clarke had woken up.

Her feet touch the cold hardwood, and she pulls some socks on before heading out to the kitchen.

//

Lexa looks up from her phone when Clarke walks out into the kitchen.

“You’re up early,” Lexa says, putting her phone down. “It’s not even close to noon.”

Clarke rubs her eye. “Woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep,” Clarke says. Her statement is mostly true.

“Did you sleep well?” Lexa asks nonchalantly. She fiddles with her phone.

Clarke bites her lip. “Yeah. You?”

Lexa nods. If she has any reaction to how they woke up, she doesn’t show it. “I was about to go for a run and grab food. Want to come?”

Clarke makes a face. “How about just the latter? I know a good place nearby. Food on me since you got dinner last night.”

The brunette shrugs, pulling on a jacket. “Deal. Go get dressed, it’s cold outside.”

//

Since Clarke’s familiar with the city, she leads them to a breakfast joint a few blocks down from their apartment building. The air is still and the sky is grey and it is cold, biting at their noses and cheeks when they step outside of the apartment building. They decide to walk, but Lexa is too distracted by the sound of Clarke’s teeth chattering.

Clarke is pulling the drawstrings of her hoodie tighter around her head a few blocks down when Lexa stops in her tracks.

“You’re cold,” Lexa says, pulling her hands out of her pockets. “Here, take my beanie.”

“No, I shouldn’t,” Clarke says.

“Why not?”

“You’ll be cold,” Clarke argues.

“I have a hood,” Lexa tells her. “All you have is your college hoodie and it looks like the tip of your nose is about to break off.” She removes her beanie and holds it out to Clarke, who all but takes it reluctantly.

She pulls it over her ears and looks towards Lexa. “Thanks.”

Lexa pulls her hood over her own head. “Don’t mention it.”

As they walk along the sidewalk towards the diner, Lexa replays what she just did in her head again, suddenly overanalyzing her actions. Was that me being extra friendly or...

She watches Clarke rub her gloved hands together, content with her beanie on her head. She smiles at Lexa, and Lexa returns it.

Whatever. She’s happy.

Clarke huffs into her gloved hands after a moment, her breath visible in the cold. “I’m from the city. I should be used to this.”

Lexa shrugs. “I overpacked.”

They arrive at Skai’s Diner, which is bustling with early risers and the aroma of coffee, pancakes, and maple syrup.

“I can’t believe you wanted to go running in this weather,” Clarke tells her, the tip of her nose pink as she pulls the door open for Lexa. “My ears would’ve fallen off in this cold.”

They are seated by a window in the welcoming warmth of the diner, and Lexa pulls off her gloves and Clarke pulls off her beanie as she and Clarke peruse the menu.

“Clarke!”

The blonde looks up when she hears her name being called, and their booth is approached by a waiter with floppy hair and a long nose.

“Jasper! Hey,” she says, smiling up at her old high school friend.

“Been a while since I’ve seen you here,” Jasper tells her. “And who’s this?” He gestures towards Lexa.

“Lexa, this is Jasper,” the blonde says. “I went to high school with him. Jasper, this is my new roommate, Lexa.”

“Pleasure,” he says to Lexa, his eyes sparkling. “What’ll it be today, ladies?”

He writes down their orders on a notepad and mouths, She’s hot! from behind Lexa’s back at the counter, and she rolls her eyes.

//

They walk back to the apartment in relative but comfortable silence. Their hands are buried in their pockets due to the cold, but their elbows occasionally brush together on the walk back.

//

Clarke forgets to give Lexa her beanie back. Lexa doesn’t mind.

//

The moving truck arrives while Lexa helps Clarke carry the boxes in her car up to the apartment.

“Any reason why you have a giant paper mache sculpture of a gorilla, Clarke?” Lexa asks when one of the movers hands it to her from the truck.

“I found it at a flea market! I thought it was cute.”

Lexa smiles incredulously at her, and Clarke laughs.

//

Clarke and Lexa order pizza when all of Clarke’s things are unloaded from the truck. They sit on the old couch from Clarke’s mother’s basement amidst a maze of boxes and assorted furniture with their legs touching. One of Clarke’s boxes is open on the coffee table in front of them, and the two giggle like teenagers as they sift through the contents of a few boxes.

(“You have a WiiU?” Lexa asks, pulling the console out of the box.

“Yeah!” Clarke responds, reaching for the console. “Only because the only way I settle disputes in the form of Mario Kart. Or Super Smash Bros.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Lexa begins. “I have an Xbox. I only settle disputes in the form of quickscope matches in Battlefield.”

Clarke narrows her eyes. “We’ll see about that, Adams. I’m a pretty good shot.”)

After finishing off an entire pizza and a six-pack, Clarke and Lexa retire to their respective rooms for the night.

//

Current Groupchat with: The Delinquents

Clarke (12:09am): We hung out all day today

Clarke (12:09am): She helped move all my stuff in and we ate pizza and drank beer and hung out and shit

Raven (12:10am): Domestic AS FUCKKK

Clarke pulls the duvet over her face, blushing profusely.

//

Clarke wonders how Octavia had never mentioned Lexa before. Well, Lexa is Lincoln’s friend, not Octavia’s, and despite having mutual friends, Clarke is surprised they’ve never met before. She lies in the middle of her mattress, which is, admittedly, slightly firmer than Lexa’s. The image of Lexa’s sleeping face is seared into her mind every time she closes her eyes. Her serene face, so close she could practically count the freckles on her nose. The slope of her jaw. The purse of her lips.

Shit, Clarke, snap the hell out of it. This is your roommate.

But that doesn’t mean she’s off-limits. Right?

Clarke covers her face with her hands and groans.

Get it together, Griffin. Her mind battles between trying to start something with Lexa or leaving it and letting whatever spark it is die out as she stares up at the ceiling.

Pros:

Lexa’s polite. Clarke thinks the attention she receives whenever they speak with Lexa listening intently and laughing at all the right moments. She also spent a good few hours with Clarke helping her move all her stuff to the apartment, which is a pain in itself. Which she wasn’t obligated to do at all. They only stopped for a beer break once. Hell, she even gave Clarke her beanie because Clarke didn’t have time to check the boxes in her car for appropriate outerwear.

Lexa was also respectful and considerate when they shared a bed the other night, giving Clarke her space.

Except for what happened in the morning. But you can’t control what you do in your sleep. Not really, anyway. Plus, it was cold outside. It was only natural to share body heat. And judging by Lexa’s reaction when she woke up, she hadn’t meant to do that at all. Cross that out.

Second, Lexa’s hot. Like, “I woke up like this” hot. There was no denying it. The ordeal this morning can definitely confirm that. Judging by how Lexa does her makeup and carries herself, she probably knows she’s hot too. Or just does makeup really well. Either/or. Additionally, her lips look so damn kissable Clarke’s surprised Lexa hasn’t noticed her staring at them yet.

(Point Two and a Half: Her smile. Her smolder. Whichever expression she wears on her face, it makes Clarke’s insides melt a little bit. Especially when she does that little eye-smile that has Clarke falling all over the place, with Lexa’s grin illuminating her entire face, the space beneath her eyes creasing because of her cheeks and her grey eyes practically glowing when she smiles. That eye-smile.

Clarke’s father used to tell her she was an eye-smiler. She didn’t know what he meant until now.)

Third, Clarke genuinely likes her. The few hours they spent in the main room drinking beer and talking after they first met was enough for Clarke to decide that she wouldn’t mind being Lexa’s roommate. Because she likes Lexa. As a roommate. As a friend. And as a person.

Cons:

She’s closed off. Clarke noticed the way she looked when she made Clarke laugh, and how she asked Clarke more questions than she did answer them. She didn’t go into much detail about her life other than tell her about her sister, Anya. Either she’s closed off or she’s a moonlighting serial killer, which would be a really big con, much to Clarke’s dismay.

She huffs, sending a lock of hair into the air in the darkness.

She’s probably not a serial killer though. Her knife work when cutting the pizza earlier could definitely use some improvement. What kinda pizza place only cuts the pizza into four pieces?

Also, she is Clarke’s roommate. They live together. Will probably see each other around the clock, share meals and midnight snacks, learn each other’s weird habits, the whole package.

Clarke stares at the ceiling for a moment longer before sighing.

If Lexa gives me The Look, I’ll go for it. If I don’t get anything, I’ll leave it. I can live with being Lexa’s friend.

The Look (Women)
n. a specific expression on a woman’s face which sets off a blip on Clarke Griffin’s Gaydar that tells her the Target is Interested and, therefore, In Range. Permission to engage. See similar definitions for Clarke Griffin: The Look (Men); Gaydar.

That Look. Clarke’s pretty sure Lexa’s given her the look a few times before, but she’s never really thought twice about it.

Because she is your roommate. Or she could just be giving everyone puppy dog heart eyes.

Current Groupchat with: The Delinquents

Clarke (12:38am): I made a pro & con list for dating Lexa and I think I’m gna go for it

Raven (12:38am): GO GO GRIFFINDOR

Bellamy (12:40am): You would make a pro and con list…

Bellamy (12:40am): Careful dating your roommate though. Uncharted territory

Clarke (12:41am): That’s in my con list Bell thanks for lookin out

Bellamy (12:43am): :-) always

With a deep sigh, Clarke locks her phone, rolls over, blankets flying, and tries to get some sleep.

//

Current Conversation with: Anya

Anya (23:11): So how are you doing settling into the city

Lexa (23:13): I’m doing good. Still getting used to it but my roommate’s from around here so she’s helping me get assimilated

Anya (23:13): Nice. How’s your roommate

Lexa (23:14): We went out for breakfast and I helped moved in her stuff all day today

Anya (23:15): ...sounds like u don’t like her

Lexa (23:19): No I do. She’s a nice girl

Anya (23:20): Her name is Clarke right?

Lexa (23:21): Yes. She didnt have a bed on her first night here and we didn’t have a couch for her to sleep on

Anya (23:26): You didn’t make her sleep on the floor did you????

Lexa (23:28): No!!

Lexa (23:28): We….shared my bed instead

Anya (23:30): Wow

Anya (23:31): What was that like

Lexa (23:32): We may have been cuddling when I woke up

Anya (23:35): Oh Lexa…

Anya (23:35): What did u do

Lexa (23:36): I didnt do anything I just got up

Anya (23:36): Ohhhhhhh Lexa

Anya (23:37): Is she into girls?

Lexa (23:38): Idk. She called me hot when we met. And she was being kinda flirty all night when we talked

Anya (23:38): You guys talked all night? Like pillow talk??

Lexa (23:38): No we were in the kitchen having a couple drinks and talking

Anya (23:39): And then you went to bed and cuddled

Anya (23:39): Lexa you useless lesbian

Lexa (23:40): (pouting emoji) it wasn’t cuddling. it was cold

Anya (23:40): I’m sure it was

Anya (23:44): Did she wake up?

Lexa (23:45): No. I dont think she knows

Anya (23:46): So it’s not awkward?

Lexa (23:47): Idek tbh. I dont think so

Anya (23:48): Were feelings developed

Anya (23:48): Be honest

Lexa (23:54): …………………..yes

Anya (23:55): AwwWWw ok I’m coming up soon to see u. We’re talking about this

Lexa (23:56): Okay

Anya (23:58): Ok. Go to sleep now you have a whole day of gay ahead of you

Lexa (23:58): (pouting emoji) (pouting emoji) (pouting emoji)

Anya (23:59): Also what’s ur address

//

Lexa is at the counter the next morning pouring two cups of steaming black coffee.

“Morning,” Clarke says, rubbing her eye despite the fact that she had been awake for over an hour, rolling around trying to go back to sleep despite the cold.

Clarke ignores the growing warmth in her cheeks at the sight of Lexa’s bed head. “Morning. I made coffee,” Lexa says. “Sleep well?”

“Mmmmmhm,” Clarke hums, wrapping her hands around a warm mug. “Cold, though. We gotta figure out how to work the thermostat.”

Lexa nods, and Clarke notes how Lexa’s eyes can’t quite meet hers.

Huh.

Gaydar scanning… Maybe?

“Thanks,” Clarke says, sitting across. The brunette gives her a small nod in acknowledgement. “Did you sleep okay?” Clarke goes for a nonchalant, hopefully oblivious, tone but fails completely. She thinks she can hear her voice ringing throughout the halls in the silence that follows.

“Yeah. But I was cold, too.” There is a beat of silence. Clarke’s cheeks hurt from suppressing her smile at Lexa’s inherent earnestness. She’s sure that neither of them are thinking about the warmth the other provided when they were both in Lexa’s bed.

Gaydar scanning...

They both sit in silence, sipping their coffee quietly. Lexa catches up on the news on her phone, and Clarke browses on her phone for a moment, catching up with messages in The Deliquents’ groupchat before looking up—just in time to catch Lexa quickly looking away from her.

Blip.

Clarke bites her lip to keep from smiling and hops off her bar stool. “Well, I’m starving. Want some breakfast? I think I’ve got cereal or oatmeal in one of these boxes,” she says, going towards a stack of boxes.

Lexa hops off her stool as well. “Sure.”

Chapter Text

to say that we’re in love is dangerous / but girl, i’m so glad we’re acquainted

“Acquainted” by The Weeknd

Clarke and Lexa manage to furnish the remainder of their apartment a days later after Lexa’s belongings arrive. The main room now consists of two couches and a coffee table and a TV (with a WiiU! and an Xbox One!) compared to the two bar stools they had at the beginning of the week.

Clarke decided to hang the gorilla sculpture in the corner of the room beside Lexa’s record collection―

(“You are sentimental as hell,” Clarke says to Lexa, helping her arrange the records on the shelves. “Where did you get all these records?”

“They’re mostly my dad’s from way back when,” Lexa says, taking a stack of records from Clarke’s hands. “Some are my sister’s.” Clarke holds up a very recent copy of Ark Station’s newest album, her brows raised at Lexa. “And then some,” Lexa adds, and Clarke smiles.)

Clarke helps Lexa assemble furniture―

(“Remind me again how you managed to smash your thumb while assembling IKEA furniture,” Clarke says, searching through boxes for a zip lock bag to make an ice pack.

“I got distracted,” Lexa says, holding her (now swollen and throbbing) thumb to Clarke when she finds the bags and heads to the kitchen. The statement is mostly true. She was really distracted by Clarke looking utterly perplexed by the instruction manual, her eyebrow furrowed and her hand scrunched against her face. (Lexa refuses to admit that her expression was adorable.) “You know. Trouble with hand-eye coordination.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hand-eye coordination trouble for Miss Captain of the Softball Team in High School,” Clarke remarks, returning with a bag full of ice.

Lexa is about to roll her eyes when Clarke takes her hand into her own, inspecting her thumb. She is suddenly very aware that Clarke’s very soft, slightly cold, hands are holding her hand, and she can’t find it in herself to be sassy.

Clarke, however, has no difficulty.

“I’m buried in debt from medical school and the only interesting thing I do with my degree is treat minor sprains on clumsy twenty-something year olds.”

Lexa’s eyebrows rise ever so slightly. “Well, thank God I have you,” Lexa says as Clarke presses the ice pack to her hand. “I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Hold this here,” Clarke tells her. “It’s not bad, but it is swollen. What the hell were you doing with that hammer?”

“The peg wasn’t going in.”

“‘Course it wasn’t. Now you’re gonna stick out like a… sore thumb.”

The brunette just shakes her head.)

Lexa insisted that they hang Clarke’s paintings up in the main room―

(“What about the hallway instead?” Clarke asks, following Lexa around the main room as she positions one of Clarke’s paintings against the wall.

Lexa hums in response. “No,” she says simply, and Clarke huffs in response.

“Why not?”

The brunette’s eyes are focused on the wall, hands gentle as she handles the canvas. “The hallways are always dark. No one’s ever going to see these.”

“What if I don’t want anyone to see them?”

“Why’d you pack them, then?”

Clarke gives her a look, sighing.

Lexa glances towards Clarke. “They’re good, Clarke. You should be proud of them.”

The blonde watches Lexa make a few final changes to the position of the canvas before stepping back. “Plus, look at how your canvases look when arranged next to each other with my bike underneath it.”

She adjusts her bicycle against the wall for a moment and takes a step back, admiring her work of Clarke’s work. Clarke turns away from Lexa’s face to look at the back wall of the apartment, and her words die in her throat.

“Hipster as fuck.” Lexa smirks as she reaches into a box for some picture frames. “And your sketches would look nice in these frames, wouldn’t you agree?”

Clarke rolls her eyes at her and takes the frames from her hand, fighting a smile. “Fine. But I’m picking which sketches go in the hallway.”)

(And when Clarke relives this memory of them bickering over how to decorate their apartment, sitting on the couch eating stir-fry and watching reality TV beside Lexa with her paintings hanging neatly on the wall behind them, she takes Raven’s words to heart.

They are domestic as fuck.

And Clarke’s unsure whether that bothers her or not.)

//

The kitchen is finally properly stocked, as far as plates, bowls, silverware, pots, pans, and booze go.

(Anya comes over to help Lexa unpack while Clarke’s at work.

“Lex, how did you survive before with only two plates, bowls, forks, spoons, one pot and pan, and four knives in your kitchen?”

“Who else am I going to be feeding?”

“Clarke. Unless you’re trying to woo her with your personality.”

Lexa blushes.

“And, who knows, Clarke might like to throw dinner parties,” Anya adds, perusing the kitchen.

“Do people actually do those? I thought that was just a thing on Food Network.”

Anya sighs, her eyes rolling playfully. “Remind me again why I drove a whole hour—sixty minutes, probably more because I’m not even including traffic delays—to see you.”

Lexa blinks and then a smile grows on her face when she says, “Because you love me.”)

Lexa’s finally figured out how to work the thermostat, and the chill in the apartment due to the weather outside is replaced with a stuffy but not stifling heat.

Sometimes, when Lexa is up early in the morning for work making breakfast, she’ll leave some for Clarke as well. Whether it’s a breakfast sandwich or pancakes or a plain bowl of cereal, she always pairs it with a glass of milk or orange juice or cup of coffee, knowing that Clarke was up late for a graveyard shift the night before and would be dog tired in the morning. Clarke appreciates the gesture. To return it, Clarke brings home extra take-out or makes extra food the night before and leaves it in the fridge for Lexa to pack for lunch. Sometimes there’s a note. Sometimes there’s a smiley face drawn with ketchup.

Either way, Clarke refuses to admit out loud to Raven and Octavia at lunch that she and Lexa are domestic as hell.

“That,” Raven begins, brandishing a tortilla chip at Clarke as they are all seated around a table at a local cafe, “is fucking precious. You guys make each other food. Cuddle on the couch and watch TV together”—(“We don’t cuddle!” Clarke protests. Raven gives her a look that says You guys sit on the couch and share a blanket and eat snacks together—it’s definitely cuddling.)—“You’re practically married.” She turns towards Octavia. “You never make lunch for me, O. I’m your roommate, too.”

“Lincoln makes lunch for me,” Octavia says. “Ask him. Or Bellamy. He’s a better chef than me.”

Raven scrunches her face in objection and turns back to Clarke. “When do we get to meet Lexa?”

Clarke pops a chip in her mouth. “Soon,” she says. “We’re still figuring out stuff with the apartment but when it’s presentable, I’ll invite you guys over.”

“Sweet,” Raven says, reaching over to sip Octavia’s Irish coffee. “None of her Instagram posts show her face. I’m starting to wonder whether she exists or not.”

Clarke rolls her eyes.)

//

As promised, and as a result of their newly furnished apartment, Clarke throws a housewarming party. She invites a few of her friends over one night with the ulterior motive of helping Lexa make some friends in the city. However, despite her excitement from seeing all her friends—clinking glasses with Bellamy and doing shots with Raven—Clarke finds herself watching Lexa out of the corner of her eye throughout the night.

(“She’s hot,” Raven tells Clarke as they lean against the island in the kitchen. “Good job with that one, O,” she adds, nudging her with her hip. Clarke just waggles her eyebrows, which makes both of them laugh.)

Despite the conversations she witnesses Lexa maintain with her friends, Clarke can’t help but compare Lexa to a lost child at the mall. She manages drift away from Finn and Wells in the kitchen to join Lexa on their couch, albeit slightly buzzed.

Lexa’s hands fiddle with her beer bottle as Clarke takes a seat beside her.

“Doing all right?” Clarke asks her.

“Yes,” Lexa says. “Your friends are nice.”

“They better be,” Clarke says, laughing as she sips her beer. Lexa finds herself grinning as well.

For a moment, they watch Bellamy, Lincoln, and Octavia test the strength of their friendship through multiple matches of Super Smash Bros.

Lexa’s eyes are drawn to Clarke as she laughs when Bellamy’s Fox smashes Octavia’s Samus out of the arena. Her eyes are bright, and her laughter is contagious with the others also situated on the couch. Octavia hands the controller over to Lincoln, and Bellamy hands Clarke his controller for a round, Lexa admires the way her hair falls down her back in gentle waves when she leans forward to play.

“Wow,” Lexa says when the match ends. “You managed to finish negative, Princess Zelda.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Like you could do better.”

Lexa grins, accepting her challenge as she reaches for the controller from Lincoln. She chooses to play as Link, and manages to finish with a solid score of zero (even though Clarke was reaching over her arm, yelling and grabbing her cheeks to mess her up throughout the match).

When Lexa turns back towards Clarke and grins triumphantly, Clarke’s lower lip is jutting out with a pout. “Show off.” She finishes off her beer and reaches for Lexa’s empty bottle. “Want another beer?”

“Sure, thanks,” the brunette replies, and Clarke bounces off towards the kitchen.

When she returns, she clinks bottles with Lexa and falls back against the couch, gripping her drink in her hand as she watches Lexa intently.

“This is okay, right?” she asks.

Lexa turns towards her. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Clarke takes a sip of her beer again and grins at Lexa, the edges of her eyes crinkling. Lexa quickly looks up from Clarke’s lips leaving the opening of the bottle to her eyes. “Just checking.”

Lexa gulps and nods, taking a swig of beer as well. She can’t help but read into Clarke’s body language as she sits beside her.

The blonde’s arm is draped over the back of the couch, her cheek resting on her palm, her belly warm and tingly from the drinks she had. Lexa convinces herself that she is only imagining Clarke leaning closer as they talk, imagining the slight hint of alcohol to Clarke’s breath. The fact that her body is turned entirely towards Lexa with her feet tucked underneath her and their faces closer than what is deemed appropriate for a normal conversation doesn’t help either.

“Clarke!”

Jasper and Monty appear, leaning on their arms on the back of the couch.

“Are those your paintings?” Jasper asks, pointing over his shoulder.

Clarke’s eyes dart to Lexa’s briefly before she nods.

“They are spectacular,” Monty says, and Jasper nods along enthusiastically.

“I didn’t know you painted,” Jasper says, and he, Monty, and Clarke engage in a short conversation as Lexa sips her beer with the hint of a smile on her face.

“What did I tell you?” Lexa asks Clarke once Jasper and Monty move to the other couch to play Octavia and Bellamy in a round.

Clarke gently pushes against Lexa’s shoulder. “Shush.”

They stay beside each other for the remainder of the party. with Clarke only getting up to hug her friends goodbye as they left. Bellamy is the last to go, and the brunette shakes hands with him before watching Clarke walk him to the door. They talk quietly for a moment, Bellamy growing excited about something and making Clarke laugh. Lexa quickly looks down at her drink when she witnesses Clarke kiss him on the cheek, the blood draining from her face. A sinking feeling settles in Lexa’s stomach, and she is 99% sure it’s not the alcohol.

The blonde rejoins her on the couch, and Lexa tries not to think about the way Clarke’s eyes were watching her all night, the warmth in her chest from the alcohol (or Clarke), how she was still smiling at Lexa even when she wasn’t laughing.

(She does.)

It didn’t mean anything. She was just looking out for me as my roommate. She’s drunk.

She’s drunk. That’s why she had been so friendly towards her. It didn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything.

The music that had been playing throughout the duration of the party (granted, on Clarke’s stereo, not Lexa’s record player) quickly fills the silence between them, and Clarke nudges Lexa’s knee with her own. “You okay?”

“Yep,” Lexa tells her, and busies herself by chugging the remainder of her beer. “I’ll help you clean up.”

She’s off the couch before Clarke can process her words, but the blonde joins her a few seconds later. They clean the house in silence aside from the sounds from the stereo. Lexa collects discarded bottles and cups almost robotically, missing all the confused looks Clarke throws her way.

“Lex,” Clarke calls when the apartment is clean.

Lexa stops in the hallway, allowing a glance towards her door down the hall before turning towards Clarke.

“What’s going on? You kinda shut down on me there,” Clarke says, tossing a disinfectant wipe in the trash.

“Nothing,” Lexa tells her, though her tone implies that everything is wrong. She brushes her hair back. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Clarke’s face remains impassive, and her blue eyes meets Lexa’s grey. “Oh, okay. Do you want a glass of water? For the hangover in the morning?”

“No, thanks. I didn’t drink much tonight.”

“Okay.”

Lexa deliberates leaving the room during the silence that follows, but Clarke speaks again.

“You sure you’re okay?”

The brunette lifts her chin ever so slightly, something she does when she’s being brave. Courageous. It was a habit she failed to kick from her childhood.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Clarke’s blue eyes scan her briefly, but Lexa doesn’t falter. “Okay. Goodnight, Lexa.”

Lexa both admires and deflates at Clarke’s decision not to push. “Goodnight, Clarke.”

//

Clarke grabs another wet wipe and spends an unreasonable amount of time cleaning the same spot on the counter. One moment, her and Lexa are laughing and smiling and having a good time. The next, Lexa’s walls are completely back up, which sobers Clarke up almost instantly. Clarke is just worried she won’t get through to her a second time.

What the hell just happened? We were talking and people were leaving and I got up to say bye to Bell and...

The blonde gasps and stills her movements. Shit. Did she see me kiss Bell on the cheek? She probably did, oh my god. Clarke whips out her phone.

Current Groupchat with: The Delinquents

Clarke (1:42 am): sHIT bell we have a code red

Bellamy (1:45 am): What??? I literally just left wtf happened

Clarke (1:46 am): I think Lexa saw me kiss u on the cheek!! At thr door when u were talking to me abt talking Lexa up. Shit. She probably thinks we’re a thing

Clarke (1:47 am): Wtf do I even do I don’t even know if she’s attracted to me or not

Clarke (1:49 am): But she completely shut down on me after you left...so...maybe?

Clarke (1:49 am): (grimacing face emoji) (grimacing face emoji) (grimacing face emoji)

Octavia (1:54 am): relax, Griffin

Octavia (1:55 am): shes wayy into u, did any of u see the way she was looking at her all night

Raven (1:56 am): Yeah it was like Lincoln drooling over u when we went out for drinks when u guys were still getting to know each other

Clarke (1:57 am): She was?

Clarke (1:57 am): Are u guys fucking around with me

Raven (1:58 am): We’re not

Clarke (1:58 am): Ok

Clarke (1:58 am): So how do I fix this???

Bellamy (2:00 am): Ok let’s hang out again and you just friendzone the shit out of me the entire time. I mean you’ve done it before so… (winking face emoji)

Octavia (2:00 am): gross

Clarke (2:02 am): Shut up B. Ok let’s do that

Raven (2:02 am): Throw another party!!! Booze

Clarke (2:02am): I’ll do another parTy and I’m going to friendzone the shit out of you bell

Bellamy (2:03 am): Ok. We can salvage this Clarke don’t worry

Clarke (2:04 am): Okay. Thanks guys

Raven (2:04 am): Now you’ll know how I feel bell

Clarke (2:05 am): (unamused emoji) (stuck-out tongue emoji)

…

Clarke (2:53 am): God, so much for u being a “wingman”.  You drove away the damn target

Clarke (2:55 am): We’re so affectionate it’s disgusting

Bellamy (2:56 am): Clarke go to sleep

//

Current Conversation with: Anya

Anya (01:44): How’d it go tonight lil sis

Lexa (01:45): Good. I met Clarke’s friends and we had a couple drinks

Lexa (01:45): They’re nice people

Anya (01:45): But…?

Lexa (01:47): But nothing. Clarke is close with her friends and I’m glad she introduced me to them

Anya (01:47): What about you and Clarke I thought you liked Clarke

Lexa (01:50): I do. But idk if I should waste my time with her A

Lexa (01:51): She’s my roommate. Idk if it’ll be worth it

Anya (01:51): What happened

Lexa (01:52): I think she already has someone else.

Anya (01:53): How can you be sure?

Lexa (01:53): He was at the party and was the last to go and she kissed him on the cheek when he leftp

Anya (01:54): But I thought she stayed with you for most of the party

Lexa (01:55): She did. But she was just being nice to me. Making sure I didn’t feel left out or overwhelmed with all her friends

Anya (01:57): Could’ve been a friendly kiss on the cheek with that guy. I kiss Gus on the cheek all the time we’re best buds

Anya (01:58): You never know unless u try Lex

Lexa (01:59): Try what? Kiss her??

Anya (01:59): Easy tiger I meant try to act on your feelings for her

Anya (02:00): You tried with Costia didn’t you? You took a risk with her

Lexa (02:13): Yeah. But look at how that ended

Anya (02:14): You wouldn’t have traded it for the world though

Anya (02:24): Hey. I know u really like Clarke

Anya (02:24): Try to find out what’s going on with her and that guy and go from there

Anya (02:24): She seems realy nice from what you’ve told me Lex

Anya (02:24): What could go wrong

Anya (02:25): I wanna see you grow

Lexa (02:26): I’m 22 I think I’m done growing

Anya (02:26): You know what I meannnn

Anya (02:26): You’re a smart girl Lexa use your HEDA

Anya (02:27): Head*

Anya (02:27): Fucking autocorrect

//

Despite what Anya told her, Lexa grows progressively distant over the next few days.

What could go wrong?

Everything. Everything could go wrong.

So she doesn’t stay long for their late night reality TV show binges. Declines Clarke’s offer of going out for drinks with The Delinquents and Lincoln. There’s still breakfast almost every morning, but no note or smiley face drawn with assorted condiments.

Some days, Lexa comes home from work and retires to her room for the night, and Clarke allows her her privacy.

Some days, Lexa doesn’t see Clarke at all.

And she knows it shouldn’t bother her but it does.

Chapter Text

in the low light / two white shadows become one / come on, put your moon in my sun / and set me on fire

“Come Under The Covers” by Walk The Moon

Current Groupchat with: The Delinquents

Clarke (10:58 pm): I think Lexa’s avoiding me

Bellamy (11:00 pm): Because of what happened with us the other night?

Raven (11:03 pm): No bc it’s been like  10 days n Clarke still hasn’t thrown another party yet

Raven (11:03 pm): Don’t keep me waitin Griff

Clarke (11:03 pm): (expressionless face emoji)

//

Lexa’s phone rings during her lunch break.

“Hey, sis,” she hears Anya’s voice on the other end of the line. “I haven’t heard from you in a while, you all right?”

Lexa contemplates her answer, chewing her food slowly. “Yeah. Been busy with work.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmmhm.”

“Been busy with anything else? Any girls in particular?”

Lexa frowns. “No.”

She swears she can hear Anya sigh over the phone. “Lexypoo,” she pouts.

Lexa makes a face upon hearing the old nickname but manages a small smile. “Anyabear.”

Her sister laughs on the other end of the line. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Lexa says, chasing a piece of chicken around her lunch bowl with her fork. The lunch that Clarke prepped for her the night before. She pushes the thought from her mind.

“What’s going on with Clarke?”

“Nothing. Clarke’s fine. She’s been busy, too.”

“Goddamn it, Lexa.” This time Anya audibly sighs, and Lexa bites the inside of her cheek. “You didn’t ask her, did you?”

“I’m not really sure how I can incorporate a question like that into everyday conversation,” Lexa begins. “‘Hey, Clarke, quick question, are you and Bellamy dating? I’m just curious. Also, are you into girls? Me, in particular? I want to know for future reference. Just in case.’”

Lexa stabs a piece of chicken with an unreasonable amount of force as she awaits her sister’s reply.

“Well, of course you can’t when you word it like that,” Anya says. Lexa rolls her eyes even though she knows Anya can’t see. “You’re a smart girl, use your—”

“Use my head, I know,” Lexa finishes.

“Smart as a whip,” Anya responds. “Does she ever say she’s going on date nights with this guy or anything?”

“No,” Lexa says after thinking for a moment. “If she hangs out with him, it’s usually with a group of friends.”

“Hm. He sounds suspiciously like a good friend to me.”

Lexa sighs. “I dunno, A.”

“Your guess is as good as mine, sis. Just try.”

It’s Lexa’s turn to pout because her sister is right, as always. “Okay.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Lexa smiles, popping a piece of chicken into her mouth before a thought occurs to her. “Hey. You free Saturday? Evening-ish?”

“I believe so. Why?”

“Come over for dinner. I miss you.”

Anya gasps. “Aw, Lexy,” she coos, and Lexa smiles to herself.

“Plus, I’ve got more dinnerware and shit that Clarke and I bought that I wanna show you. More than two of everything this time,” she adds, and Anya chuckles.

“Huh. Sounds fake, I’ll have to see it to believe it. You planning on wining and dining Clarke with all those new dishes?”

“Yeah, whatever. You’ll be there?”

“For the wining and dining? No thanks.” Lexa rolls her eyes as Anya chuckles into the phone. “I’ll be there.”

“You can meet Clarke.”

“I better,” Anya tells her. “I wanna see what’s so special about this girl that’s got my little sister all worked up.”

“I’m not all worked up.”

Anya clicks her teeth. “You’re a little worked up.”

They both smile despite being on a voice call and fall back into their regular rhythm, talking until Lexa’s lunch break ends. She goes back into work feeling slightly more optimistic about her situation with Clarke.

Just slightly.

//

Clarke stands outside of Lexa’s room. The door’s shut, it’s quiet, and Clarke’s never had a problem talking to Lexa with her door shut before, but she doesn’t know what’s making her hesitant now.

“Lexa?” she asks, knocking tentatively. She opens the door when she hears Lexa tell her to come in, finding Lexa lying in bed with a book in her lap.

“Clarke,” Lexa says shortly. She’s wearing her glasses, and her hair is done up in a loose bun, and Clarke tries to ignore the fact that she loves this look on Lexa as she leans against the doorframe.

“Hey,” the blonde says. “Er, you’re missing a rerun of Desperate Housewives of Washington D.C. right now.” She points towards the living room, and Lexa quirks a brow.

“I wanna finish this book,” Lexa responds, turning a page. “Did you need something?”

Clarke almost flinches at Lexa’s dismissiveness.

“Oh. Yeah,” Clarke remembers. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to be having a couple friends over again this Friday. Raven and Octavia and Bellamy and the gang.” Lexa nods, and Clarke continues. “You should join us. We haven’t talked lately.”

Lexa looks up from her book, feeling a pang of guilt in her chest. “I’ve been busy with work,” she says, feeling her heart beat faster. Just try.

“I know,” Clarke says quickly, her hands going in front of her defensively. “But I thought maybe you’d want to relax. Have a few drinks. There will be games,” she singsongs. “The drinking and video kind.”

Lexa nods in acknowledgment, giving the other girl a polite smile.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while,” Clarke tacks on quietly. “I miss your dumb face.” She gives Lexa a goofy grin, ignoring the rising heat in her cheeks. She thinks she sees the brunette’s features soften.

Lexa’s heart grows in her chest at Clarke’s words, and she smiles. Just try.

“I’ll be there, Clarke. I do live here, after all.”

Clarke fully grins now. “Sweet,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “I was making sure you knew beforehand in case, I don’t know, you wanted to spend your Friday night reading a book.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing at all,” Clarke laughs. “It’s just a little hard to do when there’s a party going on in the other room.”

Lexa chuckles. “You got me.”

Clarke smiles, swaying on the spot for a moment before going to leave. She swings on the doorframe and turns back to look at Lexa.

“So… I’m handling lunch tomorrow, right?”

Lexa grins. “Yes. And I’m doing breakfast.”

“Awesome.”

“And Clarke?”

Clarke hangs on the doorframe for a moment longer. “Yeah?”

“My sister’s coming over Saturday night for dinner. You should join us.”

Clarke smiles. “Anya, right? I’ve got graveyard shift that day, but I’ll try to make it.” Lexa nods, and Clarke taps her fingers against the doorframe for a moment. “But seriously, quit reading your damn book and come watch Desperate Housewives with me.”

She’s gone before Lexa can respond, and when the brunette walks out into the living room, she hears a cackle from the kitchen and then her reflexes are kicking in when she sees a small tub of ice cream hurling towards her from a force by the refrigerator.

(“It’s like thirty degrees outside, why the hell are you eating ice cream?!”)

//

Lexa goes to bed that night feeling better now that something helped bridge the gap between her and Clarke.

(That something being curled up on the couch beside Clarke with blankets and mugs of hot chocolate and laughing along to three hours of Desperate Housewives of Washington D.C.)

She wonders why there was even a gap in the first place.

Just try.

//

Friday rolls around, and Clarke throws another get-together for all her friends that is laden with booze. (Operation Woo Lexa, Bellamy calls it.) Raven gets especially drunk and wraps herself around Bellamy’s arm the entire night, aside from the occasional lap dance for Clarke.

“Rae, your brace is digging into my thigh,” the blonde says, smiling as she attempts to push Raven off her. She eyes Lexa in the other couch, who appears to be watching them closely. But when their eyes meet, Lexa is suddenly distracted by her drink.

Save me, Clarke mouths at Lexa when they lock eyes again, giving the other girl a smile.

She gives her a small nod and calls Bellamy, who subsequently collects Raven off of Clarke’s lap and drops her in Octavia’s instead.

Clarke watches Lexa, tilting her head towards the empty seat beside her, and Lexa joins her on the couch, albeit reluctantly, topping off her beer.

“Ay,” Clarke says, looking up at Bellamy as he walks by. “Get us some drinks, would ya?”

Bell eyes Clarke, smirking when she waggles her eyebrows at him. “Yeah, coming right up,” he says, heading off towards the kitchen.

“You and Raven are close,” Lexa says nonchalantly after a moment.

“Yeah. She’s one of my oldest friends,” Clarke responds, watching Lexa out of the corner of her eye. “Real affectionate one, she is.”

Lexa nods. “She is. How did you two become acquainted?”

“School,” Clarke begins. “We became friends in like fourth grade and discovered that we both had a crush on Finn. Our relationship towards each other was a little abrasive because of that at first, but everything worked out. Eventually.”

“And you and Bellamy?”

“Bell’s one of my best friends.” (Best friends. Friends.) “I already knew him through Octavia, but we were partnered for chem back in high school,” Clarke says, eyeing Bellamy in the kitchen. He brandishes the two beers Clarke requested in one hand and winks but makes no move towards them. Clarke resists the urge to smile. “He was the only senior in the class and I was the only person he knew. But I was helping him hold Octavia back from fights since freshman year. They’re like siblings to me.”

Clarke thinks she can feel the relief washing over Lexa’s features when she says that, the tension leaving her face. “I see,” Lexa responds, watching as Octavia carries a now asleep Raven into the hallway. She turns back towards Clarke, catching her staring.

Clarke’s eyes meet hers, her heart fluttering and her cheeks growing hot. She can practically hear her gaydar going off in the back of her brain, praying that Lexa caught on to her emphasis on the fact that she and Raven and Bellamy were all only very good friends.

As if on cue, Bellamy appears, handing Lexa a beer and balancing Clarke’s drink on top of her head. They clink bottles, and then Monty appears on her other side, demanding a Super Smash Bros. rematch with Lexa to make up for the other night, who is happy to oblige.

//

“So you and Bell are just friends then.”

Lexa and Clarke are in the middle of cleaning up the apartment. Everyone had cleared out, aside from Bellamy, who had stuck around to help clean up as well but had gone into the hall to find Raven.

Clarke almost laughs at Lexa’s persistence. “Yes, Lex. Friends. Octavia would probably rip both my ears off and force feed them to me if I ever dated him anyway.” She smiles when Lexa grimaces at her exaggeration.

Clarke stops wiping off the kitchen island and rests her chin in her hand, watching Lexa. The brunette feels the tips of her ears go hot.

“Why do you keep asking?”

“No reason,” Lexa says almost too quickly, and Clarke suppresses a smile.

“Okay.” The blonde narrows her eyes at Lexa mischievously, and Lexa distracts herself with empty solo cups. Bellamy emerges from the hall with Raven in his arms. He catches Clarke’s eye and she points at Lexa, giving him the thumbs up and winking from behind Lexa’s back.

He responds with wide eyes and stops just outside of the kitchen.

Should I go? he mouths at Clarke, pointing to the front door.

Clarke scrunches her nose at him and nods. Yeah, get the fuck outta here.

Bellamy scoffs but salutes her all the same.

“Hey, Griff, I’m gonna head out,” he says, adjusting a sleeping Raven in his arms. “Gonna take Raven home.”

“You didn’t have anything to drink tonight, did you? I can call a cab,” Clarke says, but Bellamy shakes his head.

“Nah, I’m O and Raven’s DD tonight.”

Clarke nods. “Drive safe, Bell.”

“Always,” he says, smiling at both Lexa and Clarke.

Lexa bids him goodnight and holds the door open for him as he approaches with Raven. “And Clarke,” he says, turning towards her. “Raven left a… surprise on your bed.”

Clarke’s head drops. “God, what is it now?”

“I wouldn’t go in there if I was you,” he says, stepping out the door quickly. “Goodnight! Thanks for the drinks, let’s do it again soon!”

The door shuts behind him before Clarke can unleash a range of profanities at him, and she groans.

“Why my room, Raven?” Clarke cries as she walks down the hall with Lexa behind her. “Couldn’t you have crawled the ten feet to the bathroom to throw up?”

The door to her room is open a crack before Clarke pulls it shut again. “I’m not drunk enough for this shit,” she tells Lexa, plugging her nose. “If I learned anything from me and Raven’s college days,” she points towards her door, “that’s nachos and tequila barf.”

“It’s not that bad,” Lexa says, and Clarke is astonished that Lexa’s nose isn’t shriveling up and falling off her face from the smell. “You should clean it up before it dries.”

Clarke pouts. “I don’t want to go in there.”

Lexa rolls her eyes. “You don’t really have a choice, Clarke,” she says, laughing at Clarke’s childish pout. She sighs. “I’ll guess I’ll help.”

Clarke’s eyes light up, and her plugged nose affecting her voice when she speaks.“You brave, brave soul.”

//

(Clarke covers her nose the entire time.

“God, this shit is radioactive,” she says, spraying her bare mattress with cleaner. “I’m taking the couch tonight.”

“I wouldn’t,” Lexa says, handing Clarke a mound of paper towels. “Monty threw up there earlier, I cleaned it up while you were taking out the trash.”

“Awww, Monty... The big couch?” Clarke frowns when Lexa nods, looking down at her mattress sadly. “It was a fabric couch, too…”

Lexa laughs, and Clarke turns towards her.

“God, Lexa, you were on double barf duty tonight? Remind me to buy you lunch tomorrow.” She scrubs furiously at her mattress.

“Sleep in my bed,” the brunette tells her. “I’ll take the other couch.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lexa, you’re like a foot longer than it. I’ll just sleep on the floor.”

“We have hardwood floors, Clarke.”

She shrugs. “It’ll be good for my back.”

“I have a queen sized bed, Clarke. It can fit us both just fine.”

The blonde’s heart beats a little faster. “You sure?” Clarke goes to the windows to let in the chilly night air and filter out the stench of human vomit.

“Yes,” Lexa responds when the blonde walks back towards the bed. “I’m not going to let you sleep on the floor, it’s like sleeping on a rock.”

“Your mattress was kind of like a rock last time I slept on it.”

“Was not.”

“Was too. Now hurry up, Adams, I want to get out of here. My eyes are starting to water.”

//

“So are you gonna tell me what that was all about or what?” Clarke asks, lying beside Lexa. Their faces are free of makeup, hair both done up in messy buns. Clarke is still a little bit fuzzy from the drinks tonight, and she is feeling particularly loquacious (and exceptionally confident) lying beside Lexa tonight.

She adjusts her head underneath her pillow. Lexa’s pillow, she thinks, and mentally slaps herself. Of course it’s her pillow. It’s her bed, you idiot.

Additionally, Lexa’s mattress is much more plush than she’d ever admit. Much more like a marshmallow rather than a rock. Damn that memory foam technology.

“What was what was about?” Lexa asks. The room is faintly lit due the glow of the city from the windows, and Clarke can see all of Lexa’s curly baby hairs sticking up in the moonlight.

“Asking about me and Rae and me and Bellamy. I thought it was obvious that we were only friends.”

“Oh. I was just curious,” Lexa says. “I don’t pick up on those types of things very well. You all have an... interestingly affectionate relationship with one another.”

Clarke nearly snorts. Tell me about it. “We do. But why does it matter, though?”

Lexa shrugs. “My friendships appear to differ from yours. Why does it concern you, Clarke?”

“Oh, I’m just curious,” Clarke echoes Lexa’s words back at her, grinning deviously. She turns onto her side, tucking her arm underneath her head as she looks down at Lexa. “And this is the second time we’ve shared your bed since we met, and if I didn’t know any better, Lexa, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.”

Lexa turns towards Clarke, her gaze narrowing. “Are we doing this, Clarke?”

Clarke’s heart skips. Or stops. Either/or.

“Doing what?” she asks.

A beat.

Lexa blinks, her demeanor unwavering when she says, “Pillow talk.”

There is another lapse of silence between them and Clarke is grinning incredulously at Lexa before they both burst out laughing. Their bodies shake with joy, and the two girls are reduced to giggles lying beside each other on the bed. Clarke falls back onto the mattress, and Lexa turns towards her, the edges of her eyes creasing as she laughs.

Her eyes are practically twinkling as she laughs alongside Clarke. Clarke doesn’t think she’s seen a better look on her.

(She also doesn’t think she’s heard a heartier laugh than Lexa’s. Lexa’s laugh is one of the greatest things her ears have ever experienced. Especially drunk Lexa’s laugh. Or drunk Clarke hearing [a possibly drunk] Lexa laughing.)

“Yes, Lexa, that is exactly what we are doing.”

When their laughter dies down, and silence settles between them, Clarke finds her and Lexa’s faces inches from touching. Lexa thinks she can see flecks of grey in Clarke’s blue irises.

“I’m not seeing anyone right now, though,” Clarke says quietly, continuing their conversation from earlier. She sees the glint of the moonlight reflected in Lexa’s eyes when they open. There is a faint buzzing in Lexa’s stomach. “But there is someone I’m into. A girl,” she adds, and she thinks she sees Lexa’s eyes grow brighter, her body shifting closer.

“Yeah?” Lexa says, her voice quiet.

Clarke’s confidence is boosted when she is hidden by the darkness of the room. “Yeah,” she says, her voice low. “Maybe she’s not trying to seduce me, exactly, but... if she kissed me right now, I wouldn’t mind.”

Lexa thinks her heart has filled her thoracic cavity to capacity. And Clarke is so tantalizingly close right now, Lexa’s surprised the blonde doesn’t feel her heartbeat reverberating across the space between them into her own chest. Or maybe she does and she’s being polite about it.

And then their breaths are mingling, and Clarke is so close Lexa can count the freckles on her nose.

“You wouldn’t?” Her lips are inches away, hesitant, waiting.

“I wouldn’t.”

“Aren’t you drunk?” Lexa asks quietly, her breath faint against Clarke’s lips.

“Aren’t you?” Clarke asks equally as quietly.

“A little.” Her stomach hums in response. Lexa feels warm, elated. Use your head, Lexa. Or, as Anya would say, your HEDA.

“Me, too,” Clarke says, her breath ghosting over Lexa’s lips. She licks her lips, and Lexa doesn’t realize she’s staring. “One kiss.”

“Just one?”

“Just one.”

Clarke is staring at Lexa’s mouth now, and Lexa is staring at Clarke staring at her mouth. She leans in slowly, tentatively, before capturing the other girl’s lips with hers in the space between their pillows. Clarke melts into the kiss, her lips so, so soft against Lexa’s, and she pulls her closer, wrapping an arm around her lower back when she hears the blonde moan against her lips. Clarke’s hand brushes along Lexa’s jaw as they part and meet again like waves breaking on shore, driven by emotion they’ve held within themselves for much too long. The kiss is heady and intoxicating, and Lexa wants to drown in it, wants to sink her head beneath the surface and let whatever current carry her to oblivion. She revels in the blissful feeling of Clarke’s lips and pushes gently forward against the blonde’s lips. Clarke pushes back with a little more force, holding on to Lexa’s shoulder for leverage when she feels the brunette smile against her lips, pulling her impossibly closer.

Lexa is hyperaware of all the places where Clarke’s body is touching hers through layers of clothing, the graze of her hands leaving blazing trails down her body, the ghost of her breath, the press of her lips. She runs her hands across the expanse of Clarke’s abdomen.

When Lexa tilts her head to kiss Clarke more deeply, her hands now pressed against the nape of Clarke’s neck and the supple flesh of her lower back, her nose brushing along Clarke’s gently, she feels the other girl pull back. The brunette retracts her hands immediately, an apology already forming on her lips, but Clarke speaks first.

“I’m drunk,” she tells Lexa, slightly out of breath, still holding Lexa close. They’re both reeling from the kiss, their breaths filling the silence. The other girl’s eyes are lidded, her cheek hot against Clarke’s palm. “I want to keep going, trust me, I do.” Her hand travels down until it rests on Lexa’s collarbone, squeezing gently. “But I’m drunk. And you’re drunk. And that was fucking amazing.”

Lexa huffs out a laugh, and Clarke’s hand curls around the crook of Lexa’s neck as she nods, the pad of her thumb absently stroking along the brunette’s hairline. Lexa lifts a hand so it hovers by Clarke’s waist, and she braces her fingers against the small of Clarke’s back and feels her relax against her palm.

Clarke traces the slope of Lexa’s jaw, her blue eyes following the movements of her own fingertips. “I’d rather kiss you when I’m sober.”

Lexa nods, melting underneath Clarke’s gaze, her touch. “Likewise,” she says. “I’m into you, too,” she confesses quietly after a moment, her eyes watching Clarke’s closely.

She sees Clarke smile and nod, hands smoothing out onto Lexa’s shoulders.

“That’s good to know,” Clarke says, and they both laugh quietly.

“I haven’t been with anyone in a while,” Lexa tells her. Silence settles between them again, and Clarke walks her hand along Lexa’s arm.

“What’s so special about me?” Clarke asks.

Lexa stares at the glint in Clarke’s eyes in the low light for a split-second too long. “Everything.”

Clarke’s eyes flit back and forth between Lexa’s. “You’re a sappy little cheeseball when you’re drunk, you know that?”

Lexa lowers her head in embarrassment, the tips of her ears hot. She hears Clarke laugh, and then feels a hand underneath her chin, tilting her head up.

“We should go to sleep,” Clarke whispers after a moment.

“I agree,” Lexa whispers back.

Her hand reaches across the gap between their bodies, brushing a strand of hair behind Clarke’s ear. She returns Clarke’s smile.

“Go to sleep, Clarke.”

The edges of Clarke’s lips turn up when she hears Lexa’s tongue click when she says her name.

“Okay, Lexa.”

“Okay. Good night, Clarke.”

“Good night, Lexa.”

They continue smiling at each other from their respective pillows before Lexa shuffles back to her side of the bed, leaving a considerable amount of space between herself and Clarke.

Clarke smiles at her again before scooting back to her side and closing her eyes.

For once, the gap between them isn’t so bad.

That is, until they wake up.

Chapter Text

you swim from pulling tides / that swallow you at night / let go, let go into these rolling waves

“Rolling Waves” by The Naked and Famous

Neither of them mention the kiss.

In fact, they act as if it never happened.

In fact, Lexa’s gone the next morning. Clarke wakes up and finds the bed empty and Lexa’s motorcycle keys gone when she walks out into the kitchen. She can’t find it in herself to be upset because it was just a kiss. Just a very, very enjoyable and heady kiss.

But there’s a note on the counter marked with Lexa’s perfectly messy handwriting, along with an egg avocado sandwich prepared the way Clarke likes.

Had an early call-in today but here’s a sandwich. Have a nice day, Clarke.
-Lexa

At least she knows Lexa’s not avoiding her. Maybe they’ll talk about it when she gets home.

Maybe it was just a spur of the moment drunk thing.

Maybe they’ll both just move on from it and act as if nothing happened.

Clarke hopes it doesn’t come to that.

//

What’s so special about me?

Everything.

//

Current Groupchat with: The Delinquents

Clarke (10:02 am): Holy FUCK Lexa qnd I kissed last night I think I’m gonna combust

Clarke (10:02 am): We were also both kinda drunk but HOLY FUCK

Clarke (10:03 am): Raven Reyes I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful for you throwing up in my bed

Clarke (10:03 am): Or Monty for throwing up on the big couch bc there was nowhere for me to sleep again last night and we kissed while sharing her bed again

Clarke (10:03 am): Bless your hearts. Thank you

Raven (10:09 am): Any time Clarke :-)

Raven (10:10 am): But did u fornicate

Clarke (10:15 am): No we just kissed and stopped after a while bc we were both drunk. It was a mutual decision

Clarke (10:15 am): Her hands are so soft

Bellamy (10:16 am): Lmao

Octavia (10:20 am): what happened in the morning? was it awkward

Clarke (10:22 am): She was gone when I woke up she had work at like 6

Octavia (10:23 am): r u sure she was drunk last night

Octavia (10:23 am): i mean this is lexa we’re talkin about if she had an early shift in the morning she probably wasnt that drunk dude

Clarke (10:25 am): Omfg ur right

Clarke (10:25 am): Ur ffffucking kidding me

Clarke (10:28 am): She had like 2 beers now that i think about it

Clarke (10:28 am): Oh my fucking god and she was asking if me and Raven or me and bell were a thing

Raven (10:28 am): She got tha hots 4 u Clarkie (heart eyes emoji) (heart eyes emoji)

Raven (10:29 am): Make ya move sista

//

Lexa calls Anya during her lunch break.

“Long time no phone call, sis,” she hears Anya say when she picks up.

“We just spoke on the phone the other day. When I invited you over for dinner tonight, do you remember that?”

“I called you first that time, it doesn’t count,” Anya explains as Lexa adjusts the phone against her ear as she walks down the street, her breath visible in the cold. “Anyways, what’s up?”

Lexa’s thoughts immediately go to Clarke as she enters a chain restaurant near her workplace, and her lips quirk upward when she remembers the note Clarke left on the counter that morning, along with a twenty dollar bill.

(Okay the party ended a little late last night and obviously I have nothing prepared for you to pack for lunch tomorrow so here’s a 20 :)

-Clarke

P.S. I’m still gonna buy you lunch for double puke duty last night)

“Nothing, I’m just grabbing lunch. Hold on,” Lexa says, briefly muting the phone to tell the food service clerk her order. “There was a party at the apartment last night.”

“Yeah? Anything happen?”

“Some games, some drinks,” Lexa begins. “A couple people threw up.”

“And?”

“And.” Lexa pauses for dramatic effect. “Clarke and I kissed.”

Lexa can practically feel Anya’s face lighting up. “No fuckin’ way. You didn’t.”

“We did,” Lexa says, and she finds herself grinning as well.

“How was it?”

Lexa hesitates. “Electric.”

Anya lets out a low whistle. “Cliché, baby sis.”

A bell dings and Lexa grabs her order as it appears, smiling at the girl who prepared it for her. “I know,” she admits to Anya, finding a seat in the warmth of the restaurant. “But it was.”

“How did it happen?”

“In my bed. We were both a little drunk.”

“Did you guys have sex?”

“No,” Lexa says, chasing a piece of seared beef around her tray. “But she was very polite,” she adds, and Anya laughs. Lexa bites her lip when she says, “She said she was into me.”

“I’m guessing she and that guy weren’t a thing.”

“They weren’t, you were right.”

“You never listen to me.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Lexa says, and Anya smiles despite the fact that her sister can’t see it.

“So what did you say?” she asks.

“I said I was into her, too.”

“Always the conversationalist, Lexa.”

She smiles. “You know me. I do really like her, though,” Lexa adds after a moment. “I like being around her.”

“They have a name for stuff like that.”

“What?”

Anya makes a face. “I’m sure you will figure that out. Anyways, what’s going to happen now?”

“I don’t know,” Lexa says. “We didn’t have much time to talk about it since I left early this morning while she was still asleep.”

“Make sure you do.”

“I know. And you’re meeting her tonight.”

“Introducing her to the family already? I think you just grew three inches, baby sis.”

“Yeah, yeah. See you tonight, Anya.”

“See you, Lexypoo. And Clarke. Love you.”

Lexa smiles into the phone. “Love you, too.”

//

I’m sure you will figure it out.

//

Clarke isn’t sure of what to think when Lexa comes home that afternoon. In fact, her stomach feels a little unsettled, her body filled with what she thinks is exhilaration seeing Lexa for the first time since last night. Since their kiss last night.

“Hey,” Clarke says, sitting up from the couch. The TV is playing in the background, but Clarke had already seen this episode of Cutthroat Kitchen. (With Lexa.)

Lexa’s hands are full of grocery bags, her cheeks and tip of her nose red from the cold outside. Lincoln appears in the doorway with bags in his hands as well.

“Lincoln!” Clarke says as she gets up to help.

“Hey, Clarke!” he greets, giving her a bright smile.

“What are you doing here?”

“Lexa’s letting me borrow her bike for the weekend. Taking Octavia out for a little getaway.” He sets the bags on the kitchen island. “That’s all of them, Lex.”

“Thanks for the help, Lincoln,” she responds, pausing before handing him the keys to her motorcycle. “No sex on the bike.”

Lincoln laughs. “No sex on the bike.”

Lexa smiles and nods before handing them over, and Lincoln gives her and Clarke a mock salute before he’s gone.

Lexa turns and there’s that one-sided smile Clarke likes (loves). “Hey. When’s your shift?”

“Five hours,” the other girl replies, checking the wall clock. “You buy all this for me?”

Lexa rolls her eyes. “Anya’s gonna be here in three hours, I’m making dinner. Did you eat anything yet?”

Clarke pulls out a pack of chips from the bag. “No, I was waiting for you.”

Lexa’s eyes widen. “You were?”

“Well, no, but you just came home and I was just conveniently hungry,” Clarke says, tearing open the bag of chips, and Lexa shakes her head, smiling all the same.

//

Neither of them mention how Clarke referred to the apartment as home.

Neither of them deny it either.

Because in the midst of a bustling city, with shitty work hours and even shittier traffic, between bottles of beer and boxes of take-out and intense matches of Super Smash Bros., shared laughs and shared beds, it became hard for Lexa and Clarke to distinguish when the apartment stopped being an apartment and became a home.

Because it was.

//

“Are you sure you’re capable of making dinner, Lexa?” Clarke asks, quartering potatoes. “I think the only time I’ve seen you cook is when you made a full pancake breakfast, like, once.”

“It was a spectacular pancake breakfast,” Lexa protests.

Clarke smiles and shrugs, but doesn’t deny it. “Are you treating your sister to fine dining in the form of a pancake breakfast tonight?”

“With roast beef,” Lexa tells her, flicking water in Clarke’s face. She just laughs.

//

Later, with the main course in the oven and all the side dishes prepped, Clarke and Lexa are situated on the couch once again with the TV tuned to a random cooking show as they await Anya’s arrival.

“So,” Clarke asks, turning towards Lexa. The heating turns on, and Lexa’s cold toes are grateful. “Are you and Anya close?”

“Yes,” Lexa replies. “She’s my best friend.”

Clarke’s eyes soften. “Aw, that’s cute.”

The other girl rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“And you told me she came over once to help you move in?” When Lexa nods, Clarke continues. “Why wasn’t I introduced then?” she asks with mock concern.

“Because she had to leave and your shift ended at eight in the morning and she has a day job.”

“Doing what?”

“She’s a lawyer.”

“Runs in the family, huh?”

Lexa makes a face but agrees.

“How much older?”

“Nine years.”

Clarke raises her eyebrows. “Damn. Siblings I know with that large of an age gap usually want nothing to do with each other. Exhibit A: The Blake siblings.”

Lexa laughs, looking down at her hands. “Yeah, well. She never gave up on me. Which is surprising because we’re both stubborn as hell.”

“You are. I think I’ve met rocks less stubborn than you.”

Lexa clicks her tongue. “I don’t think you’ve introduced me to any of these rocks.”

Clarke thumps Lexa on the head with a pillow. “Jerk,” she tells her, but they’re both laughing.

They settle into a comfortable silence when Lexa recovers. Clarke props her feet up on the coffee table (with all of her mismatched socks glory), and Lexa pretends not to notice Clarke watching her in her peripheral vision.

“Hey,” Clarke says suddenly, nudging Lexa with her knee. She takes a breath, gearing up to ask the forbidden question, knowing that Lexa will never get around to it because she’s too “distracted” watching a rerun of an episode they had both already seen together. “So are we going to talk about the fact that we kissed or nah?”

Lexa visibly stiffens, pulling her lips between her teeth, but her face remains impassive. “Oh. You remember that.”

Clarke gives her a wry smile. “I do,” she says. “I kind of initiated it, so.”

Lexa can’t seem to meet her eyes, and her cheeks are betraying her stoic demeanor, growing warm. “You were also drunk.”

“You were also drunk.”

“I thought it was just a drunk thing.”

“It was just a drunk thing,” Clarke starts, not missing the dip in Lexa’s jaw as she clenches it. “But it was also an attraction thing.”

The brunette locks eyes with Clarke for a second. “I wasn’t sure.”

Clarke fights back the urge to laugh at Lexa’s earnest behavior. “Are you sure now?”

Lexa ignores the question. “You told me a few things that night, do you remember?”

Clarke’s gaze is unwavering. “I do. You also told me a few things that night, too. You said you haven’t been with anyone in a while.” When Lexa nods, Clarke almost shakes her head in astonishment. “I don’t believe that,” Clarke tells her, not unkindly. She nudges Lexa with her knee. “You with your charm and charisma. Hard to resist.”

Lexa manages a half-smile. “I was getting over someone. An ex, if you will.”

Clarke tilts her head in question. “Why do you say that?”

“We were together,” Lexa tells her, her hands picking at a thread on the pillow in her lap. “And then she passed away.”

Clarke feels her heart falter, her eyes widening slightly. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay.” The other girl swallows, glancing at Clarke. “Her name was Costia. It happened the summer before my senior year in high school. Car accident.” Lexa smiles sadly, but she’s managed to quell the pain over the years. Anya knows. She was there with Lexa through all of it. Thoughts of Costia only causes a dull ache now. Tugs at the edges of her heart, but keeps her tears at bay. She manages. “It hurts thinking about her sometimes. But I’m okay now.”

Clarke nods silently.

“I wouldn’t have traded it for the world though.” Lexa’s lips tug upward as she echoes Anya’s words to Clarke. She stills her hands. “But I’m here now. And I did get to meet you. And your charm and charisma and... high tolerance for alcohol.”

The blonde laughs, her eyes soft. Lexa’s heart beats a little faster.

“Do you remember what you said last night?” she asks after a moment.

Clarke meets her gaze, biting her lip. “I said I was into you.” Lexa nods, and she scoots closer. “And, if I recall correctly, you said you were into me.” A little closer. “And I know that a measly eighteen hours have passed since you told me that, but do you still stand by that statement?”

Lexa’s voice is quiet, her eyes level with Clarke’s. “Yes.”

“What a coincidence,” Clarke says, her voice low. “Me, too.”

Lexa’s heart is thundering in her chest because now a few mere inches separate her and Clarke’s faces. Her and Clarke’s lips. The lips that she kissed and a kiss she can’t stop thinking about.

“Now’s the part where I ask you if I can kiss you,” Clarke says quietly, almost hesitant. Her hands go to cup Lexa’s cheeks, brushing a thumb over the slope of Lexa’s jaw. “Can I kiss you?”

The other girl’s eyes flick to Clarke’s slightly parted lips. She nods.

Then Clarke’s smiling, her eyes lidded, and Lexa feels the blonde’s hand at the back of her neck, and she’s leaning in and Lexa’s closing her eyes and then―

And then a phone rings. Lexa startles, opening her eyes. Clarke pulls back, her hand still at the nape of the brunette’s neck.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” she says under her breath, dropping her head.

Lexa groans as well, looking at her phone buzzing on the coffee table with an unknown number that has a nearby area code illuminating the screen. She turns back towards Clarke. “I’m sorry,” she says, her hand ghosting over Clarke’s cheek as she pulls away. “I have to take this, it might be a client.”

Clarke nods, leaning back against the couch. They separate, but their legs are still touching when Lexa goes to pick up her phone.

“Hi, this is Lexa Adams speaking,” she says, her voice authoritative and business-like almost immediately. Clarke almost laughs at the switch in the brunette’s demeanor when suddenly, Lexa sits up. Her body is tense, her fingers seeming to tighten around her phone. The voice on the other end of the line feels distant as she registers what they’re saying. She feels her breath go short.

“Lexa?” Clarke asks, but Lexa doesn’t hear.

Her heart is beating in her throat, and she feels the blood drain from her face. The air in the room seems to thicken.

“This is… calling from Woodland Heights Hospital…”

“...Anya... involved in a severe car accident earlier this evening… ice on the road…”

“She’s currently receiving medical attention for serious traumatic injuries… We are unable to provide a prognosis at this time...”

Lexa doesn’t remember rattling off questions to the operator on the other end of the phone, demanding to know the condition of her sister, how long had she been in the ER. She doesn’t remember hanging up the phone and getting up from the couch, ignoring the spots in her vision as she disappears into her room. Her eyes are frantic, her hands shaking as she packs the first clothes she sees into a backpack, grabbing a phone charger, wallet.

She doesn’t remember Clarke following her to her room, desperately asking her what was wrong, what had happened, trying to get her attention. Lexa’s eyes are open but unseeing, her movements robotic as she struggles to focus on anything but the image in her mind of her sister in the hospital.

Her sister being treated for injuries sustained from her car skidding on ice and crashing in a ditch on the side of the road.

On her way here. To Lexa’s apartment. To have dinner with her.

Anya’s car crashed because she was on her way to see her.

Anya’s in the hospital because of her. With serious traumatic injuries.

Possibly dying. Possibly dead.

Lexa feels a familiar ache, a painful burn behind her eyes, her breath growing short. She bites her lip to keep it from quivering, grabs her spare motorcycle helmet, and turns to leave her room but finds something blocking her way.

“Clarke, please move out of the way.”

Lexa lifts her chin ever so slightly to look Clarke in the eye, and Clarke mirrors her movements. Lexa clenches her jaw to keep it from shaking.

“No.”

The brunette’s eyes glisten. “Clarke, please.”

“Lexa, please tell me what’s going on.”

“I―” She clenches her fists to keep her hands from shaking. “Anya’s in trouble, Clarke. I have to go.”

“What kind of trouble?”

The brunette looks back and forth between Clarke’s deep blue eyes and opens her mouth as if to speak. She focuses on the floor instead.

Clarke takes a tentative step towards her. “Talk to me, Lexa.”

“She got into a car accident and she’s in the hospital, and I have to go, Clarke. Right now. I’m wasting time, I…” She strains to keep her voice steady, and she can’t meet Clarke’s eyes. Her hands grip her motorcycle helmet between her palms as if she’s trying to crack it in half. Adrenaline bubbles beneath her skin, and she lets out a sharp exhale. “Lincoln’s got my bike. I need to borrow your car.”

Clarke looks back at her incredulously. “Lexa, you can’t drive like this.”

“I don’t care, Clarke,” Lexa tells her vehemently, gravelly, as she tries to brush past the blonde in the doorway. Her thoughts go to Anya, lying in a hospital bed. She thinks of Costia, lying in a hospital bed as well, but it was too late for her. She pushes the dark thoughts out of her head. “I have to go, I have to go see her, I―” Her voice cracks, and she looks down at the floor again. “Could you please move out of the way?”

Her breaths are short, wavering, and Clarke ignores how her chest physically aches when she hears Lexa’s brittle voice. She almost surrenders when the other girl looks back up at her, her throat bobbing slightly as she swallows. There are tears pooling at the edges of her eyes.

“Let me drive you to the hospital, at least,” Clarke says quietly. “Please.”

The brunette looks into the blue of her eyes. Her mind battles, deliberating between going with Clarke or just bolting out of the room without giving Clarke a chance to catch her breath. But her hands are shaking, her breath is uneven, and it would be foolish for her to be behind the wheel right now. She might join Anya in the hospital if she went like this. She lets out a shaky sigh, knowing she won’t win with Clarke. She can’t win with Clarke. Not right now.

“Okay.”

Clarke takes a step towards Lexa, away from the doorway, and reaches out tentatively, taking the helmet from Lexa’s hands. “Go wait for me in the kitchen. I’ll be out in a sec.”

Lexa nods, clenching her jaw. Her mind briefly registers the warmth from Clarke’s hand on her forearm.

“Breathe, Lexa.”

She meets Clarke’s eyes and there are unshed tears pooling at the edges of her eyes. Then she’s gone.

Clarke grabs what she thinks is essential from both of their rooms, along with a few clothing accessories to help protect against the cold. She calls into work, leaving a quick message to her supervisor and then phoning a friend to cover her shift. She ensures the thermostat is off, turns off the oven, watching Lexa out of the corner of her eye as she stands against the kitchen island with her hands clenched, white knuckled as she presses them to her face. She makes sure all the appliances are safely turned off and puts the food into the fridge as quickly as possible before grabbing her car keys from the hook.

“Lex.”

She looks up at the sound of her name and follows Clarke down the hallway to the elevator.

They don’t talk about how Lexa’s hand slips into Clarke’s, steadying it as they walk towards the car. They don’t talk about how Lexa reaches for Clarke’s hand again once they’re on the road, her grip tight and firm against Clarke’s palm. They don’t talk about how Lexa’s trying to hide the fact that she’s wiping at the tears rolling down her cheeks now that she’s safely shrouded in the darkness of the car. They don’t talk about how Clarke pretends she can’t hear Lexa sniffling beside her in the passenger seat as she drives them towards the hospital where Anya is being treated.

They don’t talk about any of those things.

They don’t talk at all.

Chapter Text

i’ll be yours / when it rains, it pours / stay thirsty like before / don’t you know that the kids aren’t alright?

“The Kids Aren’t Alright” by Fall Out Boy

Lexa bolts out of the car before Clarke can pull it to a full stop by the ER entrance. Clarke watches as she approaches the front desk before she pulls away to find parking.

//

It’s snowing outside. Lexa doesn’t notice until she feels Clarke taking a seat beside her in the waiting room. Her breathing steadies in the slightest when she feels the warmth from the blonde’s body pressing against her side. Clarke doesn’t say anything, just brushes a few snowflakes out of Lexa’s hair, her eyes soft and her lips pursed. She settles beside Lexa in the stifling heat of the waiting room, the lingering smell of ammonia seeping into their pores.

Lexa doesn’t brush away the tears in her eyes, letting them fall into her lap instead. Clarke pretends not to notice, pretends not to notice Lexa trembling beside her, steeling herself, trying to keep her emotions at bay. She reaches over and takes one of Lexa’s hands, gently pulling the glove off. Her hands massage the tension from Lexa’s fists until they are no longer white-knuckled, her fingers soothing around the small crescent marks in her palms where her nails dug into her palms. She holds the brunette’s hand between both of her own, drawing delicate lines across the knuckles and the web of tendons and ligaments and veins on the back of her hand with her thumb. Lexa tries to match her breathing to Clarke’s.

Then, they wait.

//

“What did the doctors say?” Clarke asks quietly after a long lapse of silence.

Lexa has both her hands wrapped around one of Clarke’s. Her thumb runs over the underside of her wrist. “She’s in surgery.”

Clarke gently nods, and Lexa adjusts her head against Clarke’s shoulder.

“She’s going to make it,” Lexa says, more to herself than to Clarke. She lifts her head, looking straight ahead. Her grip tightens around Clarke’s, and she takes a trembling breath. Clarke’s hand goes from the nape of Lexa’s neck to rub down her back. “She has to.”

Clarke just nods again, pressing her cheek against the top of Lexa’s head.

“I can’t lose anyone else,” she hears Lexa whisper a moment later. “Not again.” Clarke stills her movements, turning to look beside her. The brunette’s jaw is tense, and she swallows the lump in her throat. She pulls her lips between her teeth, her composure threatening to crumble at the edges.

Not again. The brunette’s words replay in Clarke’s mind. The tone of her voice, the vague manner in which she said it. Clarke doesn’t want to think about how this pain, how this thought process for Lexa must be familiar.

But then again, it’s familiar to her as well. Her father, as a result of a drunk driving incident that left his car T-boned, and her life forever altered.

“I lost someone, too,” she tells Lexa quietly. “My father. I was twelve.”

Lexa watches her with shimmering eyes, lifting her chin up when Clarke speaks again.

“I got through it,” she continues, her voice soft. “And you lost Costia, but you got through it. And whatever happens tonight, we’re going to get through it.” Lexa doesn’t say anything. “You may be stubborn, Lexa, but that’s what makes you strong.”

She waits with bated breath, watching Lexa beside her. Her chest rises and falls with an uneven rhythm. She looks over to Clarke and nods. “Yeah. Anya won’t go down that easily.”

Lexa gives Clarke a grateful look when she feels the blonde’s hand running down her spine, settling at the small of her back to help steady her.

//

No one gives Clarke and Lexa a second glance as they sit beside each other in the waiting room. The clock ticks by at an unnaturally slow rate.

Despite what Lexa said earlier about Anya’s strength, Lexa grows restless still, eventually getting up and pacing the waiting room. Clarke’s eyes follow her closely, watching as she goes from pressing her hands against her face to brushing her hair back to picking at a stray thread on her coat. Her brows are pinched together, and every so often Clarke will hear her take a deep breath to calm her nerves. She hails every hospital associate and nurse who passes by, asking about the status of her sister. Their responses are all the same: vague, uninformative.

“Lexa,” she says. “Please sit down.”

She looks towards Clarke, her eyes pleading. Something settles in Lexa’s chest when she looks at the blue of Clarke’s eyes under the fluorescent lights of the hospital. The color captivates Lexa, regarding her with such patience and kindness and understanding. Lexa contemplates Clarke’s words for a moment, rooted to her spot on the vinyl flooring in the hospital hallway. Then she goes and sits beside Clarke again, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her legs, palms pressed together, her chin tucked into the webbing between her thumb and forefinger in an almost silent prayer. But her eyes are open, and then Clarke brushes her hair back on her head again.

All they can do is wait.

//

They must have been in the waiting room for at least two hours, and it is then that Lexa registers the dull ache in her stomach from hunger.

“Lexa, you need to eat,” Clarke says when she hears the other girl’s stomach growl.

“Later,” Lexa responds shortly, barely sparing Clarke a glance.

Clarke sighs. “Lex―”

“My sister is in the operating room because she was on her way up to our apartment,” Lexa tells her, her voice sharp but not harsh. “To have dinner with me. To see me. I can’t eat knowing that I may be at fault for the situation she’s in. I can’t think about anything else.”

Clarke leans towards Lexa, her voice quiet as her hand runs through Lexa’s hair. “That’s not on you.”

Lexa bites her lip, silent.

Clarke doesn’t move from beside Lexa. She only takes her hand again.

They both ignore the rumbling in their stomachs.

(But when Clarke offers her a bottle of water, she takes it, albeit reluctantly.)

//

“If you’re not going to eat, sleep,” Clarke tells Lexa, whose head is bobbing up and down as she struggles to stay conscious.

The chair in the hospital waiting room is starting to make Lexa’s ass ache and she would rather sleep on a boulder, but she’s so tired she’ll have to make do with what she has.

“I’m going to miss something,” Lexa protests, sitting up straighter in her chair.

“I’m pretty sure the entire hospital staff knows who you are.” She brushes Lexa’s hair back. “I’ll wake you up if anything happens. Sleep.”

Lexa offers no response and leans back instead, her arms settling on the armrests of her chair with an oddly regal flair. “Later.”

Clarke huffs, finding no use in arguing and settles back beside her.

Ten minutes later, she’s asleep against Clarke’s shoulder.

//

Lexa’s breaths are quiet and even, and the beanie on her head is a little lopsided.

Despite being familiar with hospitals and working in them every day, Clarke feels claustrophobic sitting in her seat, watching as stretchers and carts rolled around the halls, nurses darting in and out of rooms. Groups of people filtering in and out. Lexa’s presence helps.

It’s almost midnight, and the hospital is still, and it seems as if the earth has stopped rotating.

Clarke wonders what is taking so long.

She’s glad Lexa is asleep beside her. Her mind needs the rest.

//

“Lexa Adams?”

Both Clarke and Lexa, whose heads were resting against one another’s, jolt awake at the sound of the unfamiliar voice.

Lexa stands up immediately, adjusting her coat on her shoulders. “What’s happened?”

Clarke follows. The doctor, whose eyes are tired underneath her spectacles, pulls her face mask down and looks at them with kind eyes before she starts explaining the circumstances of Anya’s surgery.

Lexa absorbs every syllable, her ears straining, searching for what she wants to hear. Clarke watches her from the corner of her eye.

“...a considerable amount of blood loss… head trauma… broken collarbone… glass in her skull…”

The doctor pauses, and Lexa seems to edge forward, as if she missed something she said.

“Your sister survived,” the doctor tells her, a smile gracing her face. “She’s stable right now. We’ve moved her to another room. It may take a few hours for the anesthetic to wear off and for her to wake up, but you may go in to see her.”

Lexa releases the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, and her face breaks out into a grin, her cheeks hurting with the effort. She grips the doctor’s hand with both of her own, a wave of words expressing her gratitude rolling off her tongue.

The doctor nods in response, and Clarke whispers her gratefulness as well to her before following along with Lexa as she leads them to the room where Anya’s staying.

//

The door to Anya’s room shuts quietly behind Lexa, and she takes in the sight before her.

Her sister is laid on the hospital bed with her arms at her side, connected to various control panels and monitors that beep at even intervals. Her arm is in a sling, her head bandaged. There are cuts and lacerations scattered over her face, arm, leg, and her skin is a patchwork of various bruises: shades of blue and yellow.

A lump forms in Lexa’s throat despite seeing her sister peacefully asleep, her heartbeats being recorded on the screen beside her. She swallows thickly, clenching her jaw to keep it from shaking.

She’s alive. She’s alive.

Lexa drops into a chair and pulls it towards Anya’s bed. She takes her sister’s hand between her own, and it is warm and supple and alive, alive, alive.

She listens to her breathing, shallow but steady thanks to the anesthetic. Her eyelids are still. But seeing Anya lying in the hospital bed with all these tubes and needles protruding from her body, connected to instruments that will ensure her welfare, are enough to soothe the anguish in Lexa’s chest. The warmth of her sister’s hand in her own is like a balm to the aching burn in her chest. Lexa thinks she’ll only find peace if she could see the chestnut brown of her sister’s hooded eyes looking back at her. The face of someone who never gave up on her. Who had always been a constant, resolute entity in her life, for better or for worse.

A few hours and she’ll wake up, the doctor said. A few hours feels like another lifetime away.

//

Clarke doesn’t follow Lexa into Anya’s room. Not yet.

If anyone could recognize the importance of solitude, it’s Clarke. And right now, Lexa needs time to reunite with her sister.

She watches Lexa talk to her sister through a gap in the curtains by the window and goes to lean against the wall by the door. It’s almost two in the morning, and Clarke rubs the sleepiness from her eyes, going to tie her hair into a presentable but messy bun instead.

The blonde is in the middle of a yawn when she suddenly sees Lexa standing in front of her, grey eyes widening. An apology is forming on the brunette’s lips―for keeping her up, for making her wait around for hours, for driving Lexa to the hospital tonight, for making her miss her shift. But Clarke puts up a hand to stop her, shaking her head.

“Don’t even think about apologizing right now,” Clarke tells her, voice firm but not chastising. “I’m here because I chose to be. Because I want to be.”

Clarke’s eyes are burning into hers, fierce and resolute, at Lexa’s disbelieving look. Lexa gulps and nods, her throat struggling to form words. She gestures towards Anya’s room. “She’s still asleep, but you can come in. You don’t have to wait out here anymore, Clarke.”

She steps aside for Clarke, but the blonde doesn’t move to go into the room. She approaches Lexa, hesitant, eyes soft. Lexa’s breath escapes her, but she makes no move to stop her. Clarke’s hands go to cup her cheeks, her thumbs brushing across the brunette’s cheeks.

“You need a nap,” she says simply, quietly, after a moment. Her eyes watch Lexa’s grey, scanning her face. Lexa can’t bring herself to look away. She thinks she wants to drown in the electric blue hue of Clarke’s eyes instead.

Lexa nods, her eyes closing with the movement, with the sensation of Clarke holding her head in her hands. And then there’s a hint of a smile on Clarke’s face and her hands are gone but they’re leading Lexa into the room instead, and Lexa feels something else settle in her heart that she can’t quite place.

Clarke looks back at her when she realizes Lexa is still rooted to the spot. Her eyebrows furrow in concern.

“Lexa?”

“Thank you,” she says, her voice barely audible above the ambience of the hospital. “For being here. For waiting.”

Her gaze is downward, and she’s biting her lip when she looks up. Clarke nods silently, holding out her hand. Lexa takes it and follows her into Anya’s room.

//

Clarke watches Lexa from the other side of the room. She’s beside Anya’s bed, hunched over in her seat. She’s asleep, her head falling on Anya’s bed. Clarke’s glad. It’s almost four in the morning, and Clarke only just managed to get a granola bar into the brunette a few hours prior. And she finally succumbed to the exhaustion pulling at her eyes, nurtured by the knowledge that her sister had survived.

The book in Clarke’s lap is neglected, the blonde taking the opportunity to examine the lines of Lexa’s face in her sleep. She had grabbed the book from Lexa’s bed in her haste while packing to leave for the hospital, in case the girl needed a distraction or something to keep her hands busy. But she found it was unnecessary. We Are Grounders seems to be a favorite of Lexa’s. Clarke found the spine pliant, the book’s pages full of dog-ears and Lexa’s small, neatly scrawled handwriting in the margins.

Lexa looks peaceful. Her face, scrubbed clean thanks to the face wipe Clarke had given her, is lopsided as it’s pressed against Anya’s bed, and Clarke smiles.

“You must be Clarke.”

Clarke startles at the sound of the voice, jerking her head up off of where it had been resting in her palm. She looks around the room, her eyes landing on the inert figure in the bed, who is now very, very awake.

“That’s me,” she says, her voice scratchy from lack of use. She clears her throat. “You’re Anya.”

“The one and only,” the girl responds, voice slurred. She looks down at herself, with all her casts and bandages, bruises and scratches. The lights in the room, although dim, poke at the backs of her eyes painfully. She closes them briefly. “How long has she been asleep?”

“Little over half an hour.” Clarke keeps her voice quiet. “Refused to sit down until she got to see you. I only just managed to get her to eat before she fell asleep.”

“Stubborn one, she is,” Anya says, and Clarke smiles and nods.

For a moment, there is only the sound of whirring machines and monitors beeping.

“This isn’t exactly how I imagined we’d be meeting, Clarke,” Anya tells her.

Clarke chuckles. “Likewise.”

“Lexypoo hasn’t been able to stop talking about you. You must be special.”

“Lexypoo?” Clarke repeats in disbelief, fighting the urge to burst out into laughter.

Anya raises her brows. Clarke can see the similarity between her and Lexa almost immediately.  “Oh. Oops,” she adds lightly, smiling when she sees Clarke grinning like a fool at Lexa’s nickname. “You aren’t supposed to know that.” She looks towards her sister again. “How has she been holding up?”

“Better now that they’ve allowed her into the room.”

Anya swallows, her hand stretching out to play with a strand of Lexa’s hair. “I didn’t mean to put her through this.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Anya looks unconvinced but doesn’t respond. Another moment of silence passes between them.

“What are you doing here?” Anya asks Clarke, genuinely curious.

“I drove her here.”

“And she agreed? Just like that?”

“There was some… coercion,” Clarke replies, watching Lexa. “She was a little shaken up. I wanted to make sure she got here okay.”

The other girl nods in acknowledgement, watching Clarke. “Lexa was never one to ask others for help.”

Clarke huffs out a laugh. “Yeah. She tried unloading a moving truck by herself.”

Anya laughs as well. “She thought she could load it by herself, too.”

Both girls exchange a smile, and silence falls again, though comfortable this time. Clarke is unsure of what to do with her hands so she fiddles with Lexa’s book instead, running the dogeared pages underneath her thumb.

“She’s enamored by you.”

Clarke looks up from Lexa’s book at the sound of Anya’s voice, unsure if she actually heard it or not. “What?”

“You didn’t hear it from me,” Anya tells her, disregarding Clarke’s question and smiling slightly. She looks to Lexa. “You’ll probably never hear it from her, but… Sisterly instinct.” She gives Clarke a one-sided smile, and Clarke thinks she can see the similarity between the sisters. “I can tell by the way she talks about you.”

Clarke’s heart swells in her chest, but she can’t seem to find any words to respond. But, judging by the way Anya’s analyzing Clarke’s reaction (sitting dumbfoundedly, opening and closing her mouth like automatic doors at the drugstore, she doesn’t seem to be looking for anything. The older girl just smirks.

Clarke fumbles. “Do you need anything?” she asks after a moment. “Water? A nurse?”

Anya shakes her head.

And just then, Lexa stirs on the bed at Anya’s hip. She sits up quickly when she sees her sister awake and aware and alive in bed, her eyes widening.

“You’re awake,” she says blatantly, rubbing her eyes. Anya smiles and nods.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

Lexa scoots closer, her eyes scanning Anya’s light brown eyes. Anya’s gaze is unwavering. “How are you? How’s your head?”

“Hurts,” Anya replies simply, her expression neutral. Lexa shakes her head, deciding it would be futile to grow annoyed with her sister. Anya’s eyes flick to Clarke. “Met your friend.”

Only then does Lexa realize Clarke is in the room, awake. “Oh.” Grey eyes dart nervously from blue to hazel.

“Don’t worry,” Clarke says, getting up to allow the sisters to catch up. “She didn’t threaten to end my life.”

“Did she threaten to end anything else?”

Anya huffs out a laugh, and Clarke smiles, going towards the door. “Oh, you know,” the blonde says. “My sense of security, my relationship with my friends and family, my career. The usual.” Clarke smiles wryly. “I’m going to go see if I can find some food. Be back in a bit.”

Lexa’s eyes don’t leave her until she exits the room, noting the light in her eyes as well as the bags beneath them. She feels a pang of guilt.

The older girl on the bed watches her little sister with a knowing smile.

Lexa turns back to Anya. “How long have you been awake? Do you need anything?”

Anya shakes her head. “Ten minutes, maybe. Telling time’s a little foggy.” Her little sister just nods mutely, and Anya continues. “That’s Clarke, huh?”

Shy eyes meet Anya’s. “Yeah.”

“We talked a bit before you woke up. Seems like a nice girl.”

Lexa’s gaze turns downward, suddenly earnest. “She is.”

“Told me she stayed up all night with you.”

Lexa just nods.

“She cares about you, you know.”

Lexa shakes her head, inhaling sharply through her nose before letting it out. “She was worried about me because I was worried about you. You could have died,” she adds after a moment.

Anya scans Lexa. Her jaw is set, her brows pinched, eyes defiant. It was a look she knew all too well.

“I’m still here, Lexa,” Anya tells her, voice reassuring and gentle. Lexa’s eyes are shimmering with unshed tears as her eyes absorb the bandages around Anya’s head, the scratches on her face, her casts, her sling.

Her sister’s hazel eyes have a certain look to them underneath her sheen of tears.

I'm still here, Lexa. Not whole. But here .

Lexa pulls her lips between her teeth, biting back against the rising heat in her eyes. She finds difficulty meeting Anya’s gaze.

The older girl reaches out towards Lexa, palm up. Lexa grasps her hand like it is the only thing keeping her grounded.

Chapter Text

they say, “love is a virtue,” don’t they?

“Sea of Love” by The National

Anya is discharged from the hospital after four days.

People filter in and out of Anya’s room during her stay. Her close co-workers, some friends, a neighbor. Clarke is in and out of Anya’s room as well, going to work and coming back in when she can. But Lexa remains a constant fixture in Anya’s hospital room.

She sleeps in the hospital chair beside Anya’s bed. Sure, it’s uncomfortable, gives her a stiff neck, and kills her posture, but Lexa refuses to let Anya out of her sight.

//

On the first night, Lexa watches Clarke in the lounge chair while Anya’s asleep.

(“You’re reading my book,” she says quietly. It’s not accusatory, simply an observation. She picks her head up from where it was resting against her hand when Clarke startles. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s fine,” Clarke says, sitting up. “I just thought you were asleep.” Lexa shakes her head gently, and the blonde continues. “And yes, I’m reading your book.”

“Is that my copy?”

Clarke pulls her lips between her teeth. “Yes.” Lexa’s lip tugs upward. “I packed it as we were leaving the apartment. I don’t know why I grabbed it―I thought you might need something to distract you… and then I started reading it.”

“Have you read it before? You’ve burned through a good chunk of it already.”

“I haven’t, actually,” Clarke replies. “But I can see why you like it. You’ve dog-eared or written on practically every page.”

Lexa blushes, ducking her head, and Clarke laughs.

“Do you like it?” she asks Clarke after a moment.

“I do. It’s eye-opening.”

“Well, you can’t really read with your eyes closed.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, smiling all the same.)

After the second night, Clarke brings Lexa a change of clothes―

(“Get up.”

Lexa’s just about to thank Clarke for the clothes when her command catches her by surprise. “What?”

“Just get up real quick,” Clarke says again, quietly because Anya’s asleep.

Lexa’s eyebrows are creased but she obeys. Clarke grabs her by the shoulders and moves her to the side before sitting down in Lexa’s seat herself.

The brunette stands dumbfounded before her.

“What are you doing?”

Clarke blinks. “Sitting.”

“There’s a lounge chair over there you could lie in.”

“Yeah, but―” Clarke stretches, exaggerating her movements. “I really just wanted to hunch over in this chair for the night. Do a little something for my back.” Her smile is devilishly innocent. “You should take the lounge chair.”

It’s Lexa’s turn to stare at Clarke, and her eyes flick to the lounge chair against the wall before meeting Clarke’s again. “You’re kicking me out of my own chair?”

“Shut up, it’s an upgrade.” Clarke’s rolling her eyes, and Lexa fights the urge to smile.

“You’re the one who’s working all day and coming back here despite a welcoming bed at home. You take it.”

“No, you take it. Just for tonight.”

“Clarke…”

“Just for tonight. I’ll be fine.” Lexa opens her mouth to protest but Clarke puts up an index finger. “No. Now shut up and sleep in the lounge chair. Your posture is impeccable, I’m not letting you just throw it away.”)

(After she and Clarke are settled into their respective chairs, with Clarke falling asleep instantly, Lexa hears Anya’s voice.

“You two are un-fucking-believable,” she says slowly, accentuating each syllable. She cracks open an eye to look at Lexa with a smile on her face, and they both burst out laughing.

Clarke almost falls out of her chair upon waking up from the sudden noise.)

//

On the third night, Lexa still hasn’t gone back home to the apartment. Clarke practically drags Lexa into the hospital shower in Anya’s room―

(“Anya, you shouldn’t be moving around,” Lexa tries to argue as Clarke pushes her towards the bathroom.

“You shouldn’t be allowed to go three days without showering,” Anya counters, leaning back into her hospital bed at her sister’s words. Lexa still sticks her head out the door to argue again, and Anya rolls her eyes. “I’ll be fine. Clarke’s going to be here. Worry about yourself first, Lex.”

Lexa nods, and then Clarke shuts the door behind her.

“She forgets to take care of herself when she’s worked up about something,” Anya tells Clarke after a moment. “Me, in this case.”

Clarke sits down in the chair beside Anya’s bed. “I noticed,” she says lightly. “She’s doing pretty well, though.”

“Has she been adjusting to the city well?”

“No big complaints, so far. I lived in the city for four years for school, I’ve been helping her out.”

“That’s good. She seems good.” Clarke nods. “You’re not so bad yourself, Clarke.”

Clarke manages a smirk. “Thanks.” A moment of silence passes again. Clarke pushes the words Anya said to her yesterday while sedated by anesthetic and morphine out of her head. (“She’s enamored by you.”) “How’s your head?”

“Fine,” Anya responds. “Doctors said nothing unusual’s happened and they don’t think there’s any internal bleeding, so they’ll let me out soon.”

“Where will you go?”

“Back to my place. But, knowing Lexa, she’ll want me to come back to yours.”

“Will you?”

“No,” Anya says, smiling slightly. “As nice as your place is. But I’ve got someone who will help look after me.”

“Who?” Clarke asks, genuinely curious.

“My neighbor. He came in the other day with a change of clothes for me.”

“Gustus?”

Anya nods. “That’s him. He gives great advice.”

“I have no doubt.”

The other girl gives Clarke a smile and reclines back into her pillows, adjusting her sling against her chest as she closes her eyes, and Clarke pulls out Lexa’s book and begins reading again.)

//

Lexa and Anya talk quietly on the drive to Anya’s place. To Clarke’s surprise, Lexa hadn’t put up much of a fight when Anya told her she would be going back home instead of to her and Clarke’s place. Instead, she constantly reaffirms Anya’s decision to her, finally backing down when Anya gives her a blank look that has intimidated (or more like terrified) Lexa since she was a child.

Gustus waves to Lexa and Clarke as they pull away, standing beside Anya. Clarke’s now behind the wheel, glancing towards the brunette occasionally as she watches the image of her sister and Gustus in the rearview mirror grow smaller and smaller.

(“Thank you,” Anya tells Clarke as they stand in the doorway of her complex, her eyes bright as she grips her forearm in a handshake. “For everything. I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the blonde replies. “It was wonderful meeting you.”

“Likewise,” Anya says, and Clarke smiles. “Come over when I’ll all healed up, yeah?”

“Of course. I’ll go start the car,” Clarke tells Lexa, waving to Anya one last time as she leaves to allow Lexa and Anya to say their goodbyes.

Lexa turns towards her sister. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah, I know,” Anya says. “I’ll be fine, Lexa. This is nothing.”

Lexa briefly looks towards Anya’s sling and now healing bruises and scratches before she meets her eyes again. “I know. But just in case, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you soon. Clarke and I will come over sometime for dinner.”

“As a couple, or…?”

Lexa rolls her eyes, but her now pink cheeks betray her demeanor. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Fantastic. Looking forward to it.”

Lexa can’t help but return her smile. She’s apprehensive about hugging her goodbye, however, for fear of hurting her. “I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

“I know, I know. I love you, too.”

Lexa holds out her hand towards Anya, and her sister grips her forearm, the strength in her grasp unwavering despite the unshed tears in her eyes. Lexa knows she’ll be just fine.)

//

The car is quiet on the way back to the apartment. The sun is low in the sky as Clarke maneuvers the car down the freeway, painting the interior of the car a golden orange. Her hand rests on the gearshift between her and Lexa as they drive in comfortable silence, with Clarke’s eyes on the road and Lexa’s eyes staring out the window.

“Thank you,” she says to Clarke suddenly, her voice barely audible above the hum of the car. She’s fidgeting with her hands, but Clarke can’t see. “For staying. You didn’t have to stick around at the hospital.”

Clarke glances at Lexa, acknowledging her words with a small nod. “It was no problem. I wanted to be there,” she adds. “Anya was really nice. I’m glad she’s okay.”

The blonde takes her eyes off the road to look at Lexa, who nods. “Me, too. I know it was a lot for you,” Lexa continues. “Going to work and coming all the way back to the hospital. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it, Lex. I wanted to make sure you were okay, too.”

“I’m glad you stuck around.”

“Me, too.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” she tells Clarke.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Clarke adjusts her hand on the steering wheel and glances at Lexa. “Okay.”

“All right then.”

They fall into comfortable silence again, and Lexa looks at Clarke’s hand resting on the gearshift even though she’s driving an automatic. She thinks of how soft Clarke’s hands were when they held her face, touched her cheek.

Clarke doesn’t say anything when Lexa rests her hand on top of hers. She looks down at their hands and meets Lexa’s eyes. The brunette lifts her chin in a nod and her lips quirk upward in a smile.

The blonde grins back, rotating her wrist to hold Lexa’s hand properly. She pulls it into her lap after a moment so their hands are resting on top of her thigh.

Her thumb strokes Lexa’s hand. “So,” she says, biting her lip and switching lanes. “Lexypoo, huh?”

“Oh, god,” Lexa says, her cheeks growing red. She pulls a hand over her face. “Did Anya tell you that?”

Clarke’s fingers drum against Lexa’s. “She might’ve,” she responds, grinning cheekily.

Lexa groans. “Remind me to kick her ass when she’s all healed up.”

“Noted, Captain Lexypoo.”

“That’s Commander, to you.”

“Right. Commander. Sorry about that, Commander Lexypoo.”

Clarke takes her eyes off the road for a moment and laughs at the pout on Lexa’s face.

//

They fall back into their routine. Prepared breakfasts and lunches, late night TV, drinks with friends. Anya calls regularly, and sometimes Lexa puts the speaker phone on when Clarke’s home and is up for talking.

(“I went back to the hospital today,” Anya says when Lexa picks up the phone.

“What?!” Lexa almost throws the TV remote across the room as she stands up. Clarke’s frozen on the couch, a piece of snacking chocolate suspended halfway towards her mouth in her hand. “What happened?”

“Nothing drastic, sis,” Anya says quickly, and Lexa sits back down beside Clarke. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“What’d you go to the hospital for?” Lexa asks, concern etched into her voice. She leans her elbows on her knees. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she hears Anya say. Clarke watches Lexa’s expression closely. “I’ve had a headache for the past week and I went back to check up on it in case it was something caused by the accident.”

“Was it?”

“Yeah.”

Lexa’s heart is beating faster now, and she bites back her response when Anya speaks again.

“Turns out, my headache was caused by a shard of glass still embedded in my scalp from the accident,” she tells Lexa nonchalantly, and the brunette’s eyes widen. “Doctor’s missed a spot.”

“That’s not nothing, Anya,” Lexa says.

“Well, they scanned my head in case there was anything else and there was nothing,” Anya responds. “So, it’s nothing.”

Lexa rolls her eyes. “Whatever, Anya,” she tells her, relief evident in her voice. She makes eye contact with Clarke, giving her a reassuring look. The blonde goes back to reading her book. [Lexa’s book.] “So you’re okay now? You’re back home?”

“Yeah. Gus got me a hat. Can’t really wear a hat into a courtroom though.”

“Put your hair in a bun!” Clarke calls from beside Lexa when she turns towards the blonde to relay what Anya said to her.

Lexa smiles, thinking back to the picture Anya sent her after she removed the bandages from her head. Her hair was a mess, with spots of hair missing where the doctors shaved it off in order to remove the remaining shards of glass from her head. It’s the effort that counts, Gustus.

“You doing good?”

“I’m doing good. How are you and Clarke? Have you guys talked about what you mean to each other yet?”

“I’m getting there.”

“You said that last week.”

“I know. I’m getting there.”

Anya laughs. “Oh, Lexa. You useless lesbian.”)

//

(Current Groupchat with: The Delinquents

Raven (7:29 pm): Clarek you haven’t thrown a party in a while which leads me to believe that u and lexa have fucked on every possible surface in ur apartment and ur still deep cleaning the place

Bellamy (7:34 pm): I second that

Octavia (7:40 pm): i third that

Clarke (7:40 pm): No Raven you jerk

Clarke (7:42 pm): We’ve been busy w other shit. Let’s all do lunch sometime I’ll catch you up

Raven (7:44 pm): I don’t wanna hear abt ur sexcapades Clarke I got enough of that when u were still dating Finn

Clarke (7:45 pm): (unamused face emoji) All me and Lexa did was kiss like once do u want to do lunch or not

Raven (8:00 pm): Yes. Lunch. And dinner. And a movie night. I wanna have a sleepover

Raven (8:00 pm): Invite Lexa

Octavia (8:01 pm): girls night!!!! i’ll bring booze

Octavia (8:03 pm): bell you can come too

Bellamy (8:03 pm): I’ll pass thanks)

//

Neither of them stop thinking about their almost-kiss the other night. But neither of them start talking about it. Clarke doesn’t push, knowing that Lexa needs her space after the whole car accident ordeal.

She’ll wait.

But waiting is difficult when she can’t help but stare at Lexa’s lips every time she speaks, or keep from going into overdrive when they’re sitting on the couch with their legs touching or their shoulders bumping or whenever Lexa touches Clarke’s leg or forearm or shoulder or something when she’s laughing particularly hard.

When they’re “having a moment,” Raven would call it.

They’ve been having a lot of moments.

//

Lexa can’t help but notice. Whenever Clarke’s eyes flick down from hers for a split second, for however long until the blonde realizes she’s staring. Lexa’s almost certain she’s not staring at the faint scar on her jawline.

It’s been a few weeks since their kiss. It’s been a few weeks since their almost second kiss. Almost two, actually. Not that either of them have been keeping track. There are little touches here and there where they’ll both freeze up for a second and then carry on as if nothing happened. There are moments where their eyes linger on one another for too long, when they’re smiling at each other from across the apartment for no reason in particular, when their eyes meet and neither seem to want to look away.

Both of them are practically vibrating with the anticipation of what will happen next.

But both appear anxious to make the first move.

And it’s driving O, Raven, and Bellamy hysterical in the groupchat.

//

Current Groupchat with: The Delinquents

Raven (3:09 pm): Clarke I’m literally going to lock you two in a closet together

Clarke (3:25 pm): I’m fine with that as long as you don’t throw up in the closet

//

Current Conversation with: Anya

Anya (22:53): Lexa it’s been almost two weeks n u and Clarke haven’t visited me yet

Lexa (22:59): Yes we have

Anya (23:04): As a couple I mean

Lexa (23:10): (unamused face) just wait

//

Clarke’s watching TV when Lexa walks out into the main room, her hair still wet from her shower, face bright. A comfortable silence settles between them when Lexa sits beside her on the couch, tucking a foot underneath her leg. Her knee touches Clarke’s leg. The blonde’s eyes flick down to where their legs are touching before she directs her attention back to the TV.

Clarke tries not to think much of it. If she’s being completely honest with herself, she wouldn’t mind being Lexa’s friend. Her roommate. Her housemate. Her late-night drinking/snacking/binge-watching TV buddy. She could live with being Lexa’s friend. Her very good friend.

(But she’s not being completely honest with herself. Because she would rather be so much more than Lexa’s friend.)

The TV flickers in the low light, volume turned up as it broadcasts the latest episode of a zombie TV show that has both Lexa and Clarke hooked. Clarke holds out a bag of chips towards Lexa, her eyes focused on the screen. Lexa accepts and a few moments of silence lapse between them other than the occasional scream from the actors on the TV show.

But Lexa’s not interested in the show tonight.

All of her and Clarke’s almost-interactions, all the smiles, the hand brushing, the legs touching, the hair caresses, the leaving each other food and the hanging out. Their kiss. Their almost kiss. They have to mean something.

Her hair falls over her shoulder when she leans forward and grabs the remote.

Clarke eyes her curiously as she surveys the buttons on the TV remote but does nothing. Suddenly, the TV’s muted, and Clarke turns towards her, chips flying, the look on her face outraged.

“Lexa, this is a new episode, what are you―”

But her words are cut off when she sees Lexa leaning in towards her, pulling her in for a kiss. Her lips are sweet and her skin is soft and a few droplets of water from her wet hair drip onto Clarke’s shirt.

But the blonde doesn’t notice. Lexa’s hand is wrapped around Clarke’s neck in a gentle caress, her thumb brushing over her earlobe. Her lips are pressed against Clarke’s almost hesitantly, waiting for her to pull away, for a sign of rejection, anything. But none come, because Clarke’s pushing back, parting her lips to kiss Lexa more deeply, and they click like lock pins aligning into place.

Lexa kisses her with a newfound enthusiasm, and Clarke smiles against her lips, surprised at her sudden (but not unwelcome) display of affection. And then Clarke’s falling onto her back and Lexa’s climbing towards her, their faces are even. Drops of water from Lexa’s hair fall onto Clarke’s face as she pulls on Clarke’s bottom lip, and the blonde splutters.

“Sorry,” Lexa says, laughing as she pulls her hair back. “I’ve been waiting all month to do that.”

“Took you long enough,” Clarke tells her, and Lexa smiles again. “Why now?”

“Why not?”

Clarke’s looking up at her and she’s smiling and her eyes are bright. “Switch positions.”

Lexa wipes at the water on Clarke’s face and before she knows it, she’s falling back on the other end of the couch, guided underneath Clarke’s urgent but gentle hands.

“Better?” Lexa asks as the blonde settles on top of her.

“Better,” Clarke tells her, smiling before she leans down to kiss Lexa again, her hair framing their faces. And Lexa thinks she’s drowning as she kisses Clarke without the alcohol coursing through her veins, her body pliant, wholly at the blonde’s disposal. Clarke’s kisses come in waves, and Lexa doesn’t even bother breaking the surface.

“Sorry I made you miss your show,” Lexa breathes when they come apart for air.

Clarke’s eyes flick towards the TV and back to Lexa. She shrugs. “We can TiVo it for later,” she says. “I would much rather do this.”

Lexa grins. “Me, too.”

Clarke returns her smile and dives down for another kiss.