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It was really, really cold outside.
Lexa didn’t do cold.
She was a warm-weather gal. Beaches and snorkeling and the decks of cruise ships. She liked the smell of sunscreen and the taste of pina coladas and the grit of sand against her skin. And she was really bad at regulating her body temperature, which meant that the second the temperature dropped below fifty degrees she brought out the heavy winter coats.
Clarke loved to tease her about it.
“Lex, it’s like forty degrees, why are you wearing gloves?”
Lexa ducked deeper into her scarf, a thick wool contraption that left fibers everywhere. “Because I’m freezing.”
“You goof.”
The spoils of fall crunched beneath their feet, and the dog at the end of Clarke’s leash tried again to pull her forward. Clarke stopped dead and jerked the dog firmly back towards her.
“Heel, Bella,” she said. The little terrier mix looked balefully up at her, but she fell obediently back to walk between Clarke and Lexa. Her owner insisted that she be walked in a doggy sweater when it was chilly outside, and today Bella was sporting a hand-knit paisley jumper.
Lexa mumbled something into her scarf and Clarke glanced over at her. “Hmm?”
“I asked how much longer this walk was supposed to last.”
Clarke checked her watch. They were only 10 minutes in, and a walk with Bella was usually about half an hour. But Lexa’s cheeks were flushed from the cool air, and her hands were ducked deep into the pockets of her pea coat. She looked miserable. Great idea for a date, Clarke.
Clarke looped Bella’s leash around one hand and used the other to pull Lexa close in an awkward walking side-hug. Lexa snuggled automatically into her. “Do you want to go back? I can meet you at Grounders or something if you want.”
Lexa’s eyes shone above her scarf with such hope and genuine relief that Clarke felt another stab of guilt. “Grounders sounds great. Coffee sounds great.”
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Grounders was warm and crowded when Clarke slid through the doors half an hour later, like an underground burrow where all the cold-weather haters had gathered to drink coffee and hibernate. Lexa was seated at their corner table, Clarke saw with a flicker of affection, and she wove her way through the packed armchairs to her girlfriend.
“Hey.”
Lexa looked up from her book. “Oh, hey!” She popped up to give Clarke a soft kiss on the cheek. Her lips were warm on Clarke’s weather-chilled skin, and Clarke shivered at the contact.
“How was the rest of the walk?”
“Fine.” Clarke slid into the chair next to Lexa and shrugged out of her windbreaker. “Bella didn’t go after any squirrels this time, which my poor rotator cuff was thankful for.”
Lexa grinned and nudged a steaming mug towards Clarke. “I got you some chai.”
“Aww!” Clarke leaned over to give Lexa a real kiss, going for the lips this time. “Thanks, babe. What are you reading?”
Lexa flipped her book over and showed Clarke the spine (a book in The Raven Cycle series that she’d been going on about for the last few days), and while she was chatting about how much she loved Ronan and how he was definitely, definitely gay, Clarke used the opportunity to sneak closer and stick her cold hands up the back of Lexa’s sweater.
Lexa yelped like someone had spilled hot coffee on her, and she jerked back in her chair so fast that it tipped up on two legs. Thankfully Clarke was quick enough to grab her before she fell over backwards, but it was loud and sudden enough that they attracted the attention of half of the coffeeshop.
“I’m going to kill you,” Lexa murmured once all four chair legs were on the ground again, her cheekbones flushed bright red. Clarke was trying so hard to keep from grinning that her face was aching.
“I’m so sorry,” she choked out around a half-formed giggle, and Lexa shot her one of her most intimidating glares before tucking her nose into her scarf again and pointedly reopening her book.
When several minutes had passed without Lexa so much as looking in her direction, Clarke began to get bored. “Lex,” she whined, kicking gently at her girlfriend under the table. “Come on. I’m sorry.”
“Can’t hear you,” Lexa said loftily, turning a page.
Clarke rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry, okay? You can put your freezing hands on me next time, and we’ll be even.”
Lexa didn’t look up, but her eyes stilled on the page. Encouraged, Clarke scooted her chair over next to Lexa’s and burrowed her face into her girlfriend’s neck, pressing a playful kiss to the hollow between her neck and shoulder. After a moment, Lexa’s hand came up to tangle in Clarke’s hair, and Clarke sighed happily.
“I’m going to hold you to that,” Lexa muttered, feigning grumpiness, and Clarke giggled.
With that dispute settled, Clarke nestled further into Lexa and breathed deeply, inhaling the faint perfume of coffee-and-books that clung to her girlfriend like an aura. Mine, she thought, and the warmth in her chest felt like a purr.
“What are you thinking about?” Lexa asked after a few minutes. Clarke felt the rumble of her voice as much as she heard it, and it tickled.
“You,” she replied honestly, and Lexa huffed a soft laugh.
“Flattery,” she accused, and Clarke re-emerged to make a face at Lexa.
“Truth,” she countered, and grinned triumphantly as Lexa’s ears tinged pink.
“Just drink your latte,” Lexa said, and Clarke obeyed. And when she came up sporting a foam mustache, Lexa leaned in to kiss the last of it from her lips.
All mine, Clarke repeated to herself, and she smiled.