Archive of Our Own ^beta

Everything Stays But It Still Changes

Clarke's personality is written into the walls. She's owned the small tattoo shop for a year now, a small hole in the wall, with a clothing boutique on one side, and a pub on the other. In the past year she had taken to decorating, putting up art or pictures of tattoos she had done, and in times of desperate boredom, she had taken to drawing and painting on the walls, like she had done as a child before her mother would scold her. And her clients seemed to enjoy it, looking over the walls as they waited, scanning the wall and seeing fish turn into birds or clouds and flowers growing and becoming castles or strange patterns.

Anya, her closest friend and her neighbour that owned the pub next door, calls the tattoo place a disaster and mess, but Clarke knows that Anya says it in jest, after all, the two seem to share customers. Her friendship with Anya had been slow to build, extending over many, many years, but they have become close, and Clarke had even given Anya a tattoo on the house.

And it was Anya that had gotten her stuck in this predicament, after all.

...

“How do you know this girl again?” Clarke asks over the pizza they are sharing. It's a common occurrence that they'll share meals, normally in the pub or in either of their nearby apartments, right after Clarke closes shop and right before Anya's pub opens.

“She's my step cousin's girlfriend's new roommate.” Anya explains. “She's new to town, or at least sort of new. Moved here for some sort of job or other.”

“And she wants a tattoo?”

“Yes,” Anya answers, “what else would she want from you?”

Clarke shrugs, not daring to look up at Anya, knowing that trademark smirk will be there.

“Alright,” Clarke says, “I'm always open for more clients. Know what she wants?”

“Not sure,” Anya admits, “but you can find out tomorrow at the pub.”

“You're not trying to set me up again, are you?” Clarke asks, sighing.

“I've given up,” Anya replies, frowning at her friend. “It's been almost four years, and there's only so many people you can reject Clarke.”

“Thank god.”

Raven's new digs are pretty sweet. After living in a one room apartment in some tiny municipality down in California this is a big change. Octavia has some nice new apartment on the top floor in a building in the nice area of downtown. And Raven feels so, so lucky.

Even after a month, the view from the balcony is amazing. The sun sets and illuminates the whole city with it, making everything look like it's burning. And reuniting with Octavia is as fun as she remembers it to be. The girl has really grown up since highschool and her brother too. It's almost surprising.

“We're going out tonight,” Octavia announces when she gets home. There's glee written all over her face, and a hint of mischief as well.

“With Bellamy?” Raven asks. That's Octavia's main group of friends, her brother and Murphy, along with Monty and Jasper, who Raven works with at the hospital downtown.

“No, we're meeting some of Lincoln's friends,” Octavia says, though Raven gets the feeling that Octavia probably knows Lincoln's friends at least a little bit. They'd been dating for almost a year now.

“There's something you're not telling me,” Raven guesses, observing Octavia's smile.

“It's nothing really,” Octavia promises, but a stern look from Raven gets her to spill, “fine, Lincoln's cousin maybe wants to try to set you up. It's nothing much, I promise. You can meet her and say no. I think she's great. You two would get along.”

Octavia continues to ramble and Raven's heart seems to drop. It's not that she doesn't want to go out and meet new people, it's just that meeting people that understand her and her past are really hard to find. Though Octavia knows Raven, and knows what Raven has been through, and maybe, just maybe, Raven can trust her room mate for once.

“Fine,” Raven sighs. “I'll give it a try.”

“She's a tattoo artist,” Octavia continues, sitting down beside Raven on the couch, a giant smile on her face, “so if you're lucky, maybe you can just pay for that tattoo you wanted with sex.”

Raven punches Octavia on the arm, as Octavia practically cackles.

“Does that mean I should get dressed?” Raven ask. She's currently spread out on the couch lazily, wearing old sweats and a grey tank top that's full of holes and grease stains.

“You're definitely not getting laid in that,” Octavia replies, eyeing Raven up and down, “though Clarke does love girls with killer biceps, so you got that going for you.”

Raven laughs from her spot, picking up one of the couch's small square pillows and aiming it at Octavia. The throw doesn't quite make it, veering left instead, causing Octavia to laugh even harder. Raven finally does get up, and changes into a shirt that will still show off her arms, taking Octavia's words to heart.

The pub Octavia drags her too isn't one she's been to before, though Lincoln had pointed out it belonged to his cousin's and it was his favourite. Raven's surprised she hasn't been dragged to it by Octavia, but she assumes that's simply due to the fact that Bellamy's friend Murphy works at the pub near their apartment and he tends to set them up with a free drink or two. Though Murphy's tends to be more of a college kid pub, Anya's is different.

The pub itself isn't quite as nice and clean as Murphy's, instead it's full of older patrons boasting tattoos. Whereas Bellamy really seemed to fit in at Murphy's pub, Octavia seems to fit in better here. It's not surprising that her and Lincoln have already been greeted and recognized by countless people since entering.

The couple leads her over to the back by the bar, where there's a girl casually lounging against the bar drinking beer.

“Hey, An,” Lincoln greets her, and she simply nods in response.

“This is my new room mate,” Octavia introduces, “Anya, this is Raven. Raven, Anya.”

Raven offers her hand politely, but the other girl doesn't seem to notice it, instead she eyes Raven up and down.

“She'll do,” Anya says, “Clarke does like a girl with nice biceps.”

Before Raven can say anything, they're interrupted by a blonde.

“I thought you said you weren't trying to set me up,” the girl, who Raven assumes must be Clarke, says.

“I wasn't,” Anya replies, shrugging nonchalantly, “Octavia is.”

“What!?” her room mate screeches, turning a few heads at the bar, “Don't go blaming this on me!”

“I just ignore her when she gets like that,” Raven adds, directing the comment to the blonde who smiles and laughs.

“And you're being ungrateful,” Octavia retorts to Raven. “I've had enough of all of you,” she jokingly states and stomps off towards another table where a few of her other friends are sitting.

“I'm not going after her,” Anya comments to Lincoln, who scoffs and follows his girlfriend.

Raven feels suddenly abandoned by her friends as she's left with Lincoln's cousin and Lincoln's cousin's best friend. They're almost strangers, only really knowing each other through other people.

“Anya told me you're looking to get a tattoo done?” Clarke asks.

“Yeah,” Raven answers. “Your's are very nice, though I'm assuming you didn't apply your own.” Raven remarks, looking down at Clarke's arm, the tattoo there on display. It's a sort of tribal design that continues on past her shirt, and Raven can only assume it goes further.

“Yeah, that's true,” Clarke nods, “I've done Anya's,” Clarke points out, though the other woman is now conversing with one of the bartenders. Her tattoos are visible, and Raven has to admit that they're simply beautiful. “In fact, I've done most of the tattoos here.” Clarke motions to the pub around her, and Raven is impressed.

“So you're the go-to local tattoo artist?” Raven teases.

“I guess so,” Clarke says, “I mean, my shop is next door, so people go there and then come here.”

“Huh,” Raven says, “that's not bad business then.”

“So tell me about what you want,” Clarke asks, and she directs them to a table not too far away so they can sit and talk.

“It's sort of something to remember my friend by,” Raven says, feeling herself blush a bit. She's not much of a fan of talking about her past, and she certainly doesn't want to go into the grim details with the girl her friend is trying to set her up with.

“I'll need more than that,” Clarke insists.

And so Raven goes into detail, describing her design idea while avoiding talking about Finn as much as she can. Clarke listens, providing what she can when she can. They end up veering off topic, Clarke asking her how she met Octavia- she was seven and they were in elementary school, she was in Bellamy's grade and Raven had saved him from being bullied by punching an older kid in the face, Octavia felt it necessary to thank her brother's hero. And how Clarke met Octavia, though that answer is more obvious- it was maybe a year ago, when Lincoln and Octavia started dating and they met through Anya.

Lincoln and Octavia came by to say goodbye, Octavia saying she'd see Raven tomorrow and that she wouldn't be going back to the apartment that night. The brunette left with a very over excited thumbs up.

“I should probably get going,” Raven decides. The pub was starting to empty up and it would be closing soon.

“How did you get here?” Clarke asks, wanting to make sure the girl would get home safe.

“We walked,” Raven answers, “I'm probably gonna taxi home.”

“Let me at least walk you to your taxi then,” Clarke says smiling and getting up with the girl.

The air outside is cool, and maybe it's the liquid courage but Clarke goes for it. She kisses Raven lightly, and Raven, who is never one for doing things half-assed, pushes back, deepening the kiss, and when Clarke gasps, Raven takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss even more.

Their make out session is interrupted right as Clarke's hands start to venture up Raven's shirt when Raven's taxi arrives.

“I thought you didn't want to be set up,” Raven remarks, recalling what the girl had said only two hours prior.

“Well, maybe Anya was right,” Clarke retorts, “plus I'm hopeless when it comes to hot girls.”

“Damn right,” Raven answers.

“Text me when you get home,” Clarke replies, closing the taxi door after handing Raven her card.

Clarke watches as the taxi zips off down the street and returns to the pub, waiting for Anya so the two could get home.

“You and Raven got along pretty well,” Anya remarks as Clarke sits down at the bar.

“Shut up, you,” Clarke replies, getting interrupted by her phone's beeping. The text she gets is from Raven, and Clarke is too slow in hiding it from Anya. She quickly sends a reply to Raven, wishing her a good night's rest, before scowling back at her smirking friend.

“Damn you work fast, Clarke,” Anya laughs.

“If you don't stop I'm just going to leave,” Clarke threatens.

“I'm hurt, really,” Anya laughs, “but honestly, do you really want to pay for a taxi?”

Clarke shakes her head.

“That's what I thought,” Anya replies, “you're stuck with me for life.”

Clarke sighs.

Raven is nervous when she enters the small tattoo shop. It seems empty at first, and the air conditioning is on really high, so the place is very cold compared to the warm summer air outside. The bell on the door rings as she enters, and she has a few minutes to truly observe the place where Clarke Griffin works. There's all sorts of art on the walls, painted directly on or framed, and they all seem so interesting and unique. Raven is in the middle of looking at some sheep, which are painted blue when she hears Clarke come by.

“Sorry I was in the back,” Clarke says, “ready to go?”

“Yup, of course,” Raven nods, trying to calm down. This would be her first tattoo, and she's not sure what to expect, but the way Clarke is looking at her, with calm blue eyes certainly seems to help.

“Follow me,” Clarke decides, leading the way to a small side room at the back. “So, I did a few sketches of what you described to me on Friday, and we can work around that?”

Unlike the lounge and waiting area of Clarke's tattoo parlour, the small room in the back is pristine and clean, with only two paintings, both hung side by side across from the chair where Raven is sitting. The first is of a beautiful woman, who is lounging gracefully, donned in black and reds. She isn't smiling, instead she has a neutral face.

The painting that sits beside it is one of a park. It's a lonesome looking painting, with a man and a young girl sitting at a bench beside a lightpost staring out into the park.

Clarke is shuffling through some papers and finally sits down on the stool beside Raven, passing the papers to Raven. They all contain different designs of what Raven had described to her, and Raven contemplates all six of them carefully before picking out her favourite.

“I'm not cliched for getting a tattoo of origami birds, am I?” Raven asks, and Clarke almost smiles.

“With your amount of confidence I don't think you have the capability of being cliche,” Clarke admits, shaking her head and taking the five unchosen sketches away.

“I'll apply the stencil,” Clarke explains, “and you can decide then.”

Raven nods in agreement.

“You'll probably have to take your shirt and jacket off,” Clarke says, and Raven grins.

“Wow,” Raven slyly says, “You work fast, Clarke. Still on our first date and you want to see me shirtless.”

“Weirdest first date I've ever been on,” Clarke laughs, and turns to get her supplies as Raven pulls her jacket and shirt off, placing them on the table nearest to her.

Raven notices the very appreciative look Clarke gives her, but she pretends not to notice, and instead lets the tattoo artist grab her arm with her cold fingers and study the bicep.

Clarke places the cold marker tip on Raven's arm and slowly draws, creating lines and using them to make something beautiful. Raven watches the concentration on Clarke's face, and Clarke doesn't seem to mind being observed. Finally, Clarke slows her hand, backing up slightly and squinting, adjusting this and that until she seems content.

Clarke passes a small handheld mirror to Raven, who takes it and uses it to better look at the markings on her arm.

“What do you think?” Clarke asks, biting her lip as she waits for a response.

“It's perfect,” Raven nods, and for a millisecond she feels a bit emotional, the drawing on her arm reminding her of Finn, her childhood, life before the accident that left her left leg unfeeling.

“Let's get started then,” Clarke decides, and as Raven feels the first pinpricks of the needle Clarke starts asking questions, trying to get Raven's mind of the pain. “So, you just moved here, right?”

“Yup, two months ago,” Raven replies.

“What brings you here? Missing O?” Clarke asks.

“I came for work,” she cringes a bit as the needle seems to have found a weak spot, but she continues through it, almost glaring at the two paintings across from her. She wonders momentarily if Clarke had painted them both, before remembering that Clarke had asked her a question. “We went to highschool together. I assume Anya told you that much. Or maybe Octavia did, I'm really not sure how close you too are.”

“I'm closer to her brother actually,” Clarke admits, “sorry, keep going. Where do you work? Do you miss California?”

“I miss it a lot,” Raven answers, “the fruit was amazing. The weather was so much better. But I needed some change, and I think I had to come back here. I was missing it a bit.... Currently I'm working for ArkTech, which is just a large mechanical and electrical engineering firm that produces practically everything. We're working at a hospital currently, doing field studies and making and fixing a bunch of their equipment.”

“Were you one of those child geniuses?” Clarke asks.

“What did Octavia tell you?” Raven queries.

“Nothing much, just that you were pretty damn clever,” Clarke adds.

“I may have skipped a grade or two,” Raven says, and she shifts her eyes from the paintings on Clarke's wall to Clarke herself. The girl seems pretty concentrated, her eyebrows scrunched, and Raven looks to the tattoos on Clarke's arm. She'd seen that one the night they met, but now that Clarke's in a tank top, she can see how the tattoo spreads from her arm and continues on her chest, the tribal marks becoming flowers instead.

“Do you have many tattoos?” Raven asks.

“A few,” Clarke admits, “there's the one you're ogling right now, which used to be two separate tattoos until I joined them with some calla lilies,” she gestures to the purple flowers on her shoulder, “And I've got a few in some other places. If this date goes well, maybe you'll get to see them.”

Raven laughs and continues to follow the pattern of the tattoo with her eyes. There's some sort of text written on the inside of Clarke's arm, but Raven can't tell what it says due to the lighting and Clarke's arm constantly moving. There's a necklace dangling from Clarke's neck, that doesn't seem to bother her as she diligently works, and on the chain hangs a small silver ring, that reflects the light.

“So what were you doing in California?” Clarke asks.

“I was working at NASA,” Raven admits a bit bashfully.

“So you were a child genius then,” Clarke decides.

“I bet you were too,” Raven points out, and Clarke looks suddenly slightly guilty.

“I'm actually a high school dropout,” Clarke admits quietly.

“Oh,” Raven says, and trying to keep the atmosphere in the room light hearted she adds, “maybe I don't want a high school drop out giving me a tattoo. I'm pretty sure you need to know algebra for this kind of stuff.” Raven half gestures with her available arm to the process of Clarke tattooing her and Clarke stops.

“It might be a little too late then,” Clarke says, smirking. “We're all done.”

“Awesome,” Raven sighs, “that wasn't too bad.”

“You did take it like a champ,” Clarke says, passing the mirror to her, “I'm gonna wrap it up, and I've got instructions on how to care for it for the first few weeks.”

“Thank you Clarke,” Raven says, observing the small origami ravens taking flight on her arm, “I really love it.”

“No problem,” Clarke says.

This time Raven goes in for it, reaching from her spot on the chair and kissing Clarke. Clarke to her credit is extremely careful not to touch the fresh tattoo, and Clarke breaks it off when the kiss gets a bit too heated.

“I should get going,” Raven says, “Octavia said she'd pick me up. She's probably waiting for me. How much do I owe you, Woods?”

“It's on the house,” Clarke answers, “Can't let you pay for the first date.”

“Are you sure? That doesn't seem fair....”

“Tell you what,” Clarke smirks, “you pay for our next date.”

Raven's phone beeps, and she sighs, knowing Octavia is outside waiting, in a hurry for whatever the girl has planned. Raven places a quick kiss on Clarke's lips, and with a smile she bounces out of the chair.

“I'll text you, Woods,” Raven promises.

“You better!” Clarke shouts back as the girl disappears out of her store.

It's a few days later, days filled with Clarke texting her, mostly making sure that Raven's taking care of her new tattoo, but other small texts, pictures of puppies or plans to go for ice cream with her and Octavia and Lincoln.

Raven takes off her jacket at work, and Monty points at the tattoo.

“So you finally got it then?” he points. The two had become friends quickly, and he'd taken to doing his work around her, both having similar interests. She must have mentioned the tattoo around him.

“Yup,” Raven says, “got it from one of Octavia's friends.”

“Clarke?” Monty asks.

“You know her?” Raven replies, curious. She's love to get more information about the stunning blonde.

“Not really. We've never actually met,” Monty says, looking up from the paper work he's currently trying to do. “She's friends with Bellamy, though. Did Murphy's tattoos too.”

“Huh,” Raven answers. She's trying to fix one of the machines at the hospital during her downtime but she isn't having much luck. She's much more interested in chatting with Monty, who seems to favour that option as well. “She's pretty nice. Pretty hot too.”

“Well, that's not my area of expertise,” Monty jokes.

“How's it going with you and Miller?” Raven asks. “I've seen him around here more often. He finally ask you out?”

Monty had told her ages ago about his ever developing crush on the local cop that seemed to visit the hospital more frequently than necessary. They had met during the cop's annual checkup, and since then, the cop would randomly appear during lunch breaks. Raven loved his presence, since usually that meant Monty would be happier and she'd get donuts or whatever else Miller would bring with him.

“He did,” Monty smiles. “We're going out this weekend.”

“You'll have to tell me all about it,” Raven says. “Know what you'll do for your date?”

Before Monty can answer, they're interrupted by Jasper entering the break room, one of Monty's close friends, who also works at the hospital as a nurse.

“Hey there,” he greets, sitting down at their table. “Abby was looking for you, Raven. Something about a broken MRI machine or something.”

“Right,” Raven says, nodding and leaving her stuff behind. “I'll see you two later.”

Abby worked as the chief of medical, and though she and Raven didn't always get along, Raven admired her. Raven knew the woman had had a pretty tough life, she was a widow with a runaway daughter, and Raven couldn't help but be amazed at how put together Abby was.

“Hey there, chief,” Raven greets when she finally finds the woman.

“So Jasper found you?” she asks, smiling as the younger girl enters her office. Abby's office is almost devoid of pictures, the only one hangs on the wall is one that must be very old. It features Abby herself, looking younger, what must be her late husband, and a young, maybe 5 year old blonde girl that must be the runaway daughter. Other than that and the few plants and degrees, hanged and framed, the office is empty.

“Something about a broken MRI machine?” Raven asks.

“I'll show you,” Abby says, leading the way down the hospital halls. “Is that tattoo new?”

Raven glances at her arm, where the new tattoo is on display and nods.

“It's very cute, very you,” Abby complements.

“Thank you,” Raven replies.

It's later, once Abby is gone and she's fooling around with the broken machinery that she sends a quick snapchat of herself, tattoo in view, to both Octavia and Clarke.

Clarke's reply is almost instantaneous, which is simply a very close up selfie with the caption 'hell yeah'.

Their next date is more of a meet up with Octavia and Lincoln at Anya's pub. It sort of happens last minute, when Clarke leaves the tattoo parlour after work and just stays over at Anya's pub, staying with her for supper, and bugging her on her off time.

It's an hour later when Octavia and Lincoln come by, and it's perfect timing. Anya was starting to get busy with customers, and Clarke was starting to feel like she was drinking alone at a pub. And that may have been something Clarke three years ago would have done, but Clarke liked to believe she had gotten over that stage in her life.

“Should I text Raven? Invite her along?” Octavia asks Lincoln after she's had a drink, but the question is very much directed at Clarke.

“No, it's fine,” Clarke intervenes, not wanting to bother the girl she had met the other night. The girl she desperately wanted to kiss again.

“I'll just send her a quick text,” Octavia chimes in, having ignored every word uttered by Clarke. “Oh, would you look at that?! She says she's on her way. You must've made quite an impression, Woods.”

“You're very intrusive and nosy, you know that right?” Clarke says.

“I get that from my brother,” Octavia agrees.

“I have no idea how you deal with that, Lincoln,” Clarke comments.

Practically the moment Raven arrives, Octavia makes an excuse for her and Lincoln to be anywhere but the table where Clarke is sitting.

“I'm just gonna go make out over there with my boyfriend,” the girl says, dragging said boyfriend with her to somewhere far away.

“She's very obvious about this isn't she?” Clarke says, sighing, and watching their ridiculous friend disappear amongst a crowd of guys playing darts.

“Was she always like that?” Clarke asks. “Like in high school?”

“Hah, not at all,” Raven answers, though Clarke isn't sure she believes it, “her brother guarded her like some blood hound. Though that probably explains why she's like that now.”

Clarke nods.

“I'm guessing Bellamy hasn't changed one bit?” Clarke assumes.

“Not at all,” Raven laughs, “that boy loved history class. And now he fucking teaches it. What a boring dork.... He's never even seen Star Wars.”

Clarke laughs, and takes another drink of her beer. The crowd in the bar was getting louder, and thicker, and it was harder to hear, and they were both sitting so close already.

“Want to get out of here?” Clarke asks, “Go somewhere quieter?”

“That's a little presumptuous of you, Woods,” Raven replies huskily. “But alright.”

“Awesome, follow me,” Clarke decides, shooting up from her chair, and taking one of Raven's hands. They make their way to the crowded bar, until Clarke is standing at the side. They stand there for a moment, and just as Raven is about to ask what they're doing, Anya looks up at them. Clarke grabs what seems to be a bottle of wine, and gestures to it while shrugging and making a sweet, puppy dog eyes face. Anya seems to sigh and glare at her, and Clarke just smiles widely.

“Come on,” Clarke says, “we're all good.”

Clarke makes her way to the back of the bar, and they're passing through a door that looks pretty much like its for employees only, until they make it to another door that leads outside, to a back alley. Clarke leads them across the alley, and across the parking lot behind it.

“I have no idea how you do that,” Raven admits, “Anya just sort of frightens me.”

“It took a few years,” Clarke says, bottle of alcohol swinging in one hand and Raven's hand in the other. “We used to live together, we got to be really close.”

“You Woods are all weird and completely different,” Raven grumbles as they're walking down a street illuminated by streetlights. “You're all very hot as well.”

“Well, thank you,” Clarke blushes, and leads Raven to an apartment building, opening the door for her. It's in the elevator that Clarke finally kisses Raven, getting real close to her and getting handsy, placing her hands on the girl's waist and hoping no neighbours need the elevator at the moment.

Clarke pushes Raven along, trying not to break the kiss as the make their way down the apartment hallway to a door, Clarke fumbling with keys as Raven distracts her, hands making their way under Clarke's shirt.

When they finally make it inside the kiss breaks.

“I'll go get us some glasses,” Clarke says, handing over the bottle of stolen alcohol and heading to the small kitchen area, leaving Raven to explore the living room bedroom combo. Clarke's apartment separates into three rooms, a small kitchenette, a bathroom, and a studio sized living room and bedroom.

Clarke's apartment is a bit of a mess and in a different way then Raven's. Raven has magazines everywhere, parts of assorted pieces of machinery and tech everywhere, whereas Clarke has books and papers and pens, pencils, paints, all lying around. The weirdest thing about Clarke's living room is the lack of TV.

And then Raven notices something that worried her more than the lack of TV. There's a painting of a woman on the wall, one that looks extremely familiar, and it's not the only picture of her. There's a photograph of the woman, sitting extremely close with Clarke both with giant smiles on their faces. When Raven sits on the couch, she finds yet another photograph, this one of the two of them, both in white dresses, looking so incredibly happy.

Raven just feels completely sober, unhappy and angry.

“You're not cheating on someone with me, are you?” Raven asks, looking offended and hurt.

“What?!” Clarke asks, returning from the kitchen, confused and surprised. “What makes you think that?”

“All these pictures,” Raven gestures to the whole room, “your wife.” Raven dramatically points to the painting.

“Oh,” Clarke says, looking withdrawn and sad, “that's Lexa. My wife. Well, she was my wife.”

Raven feels terribly guilty, and she's uncertain what to do or say.

“I'm so sorry,” she ends up muttering, “I didn't know. That was an awful thing to accuse you of.”

“It's alright,” Clarke says, sitting down beside Raven on the couch, placing the glasses on the coffee table in front of them. “I sort of assumed Octavia or Anya would have told you.”

“That's a pretty big thing to leave out,” Raven admits.

“I understand if you don't want to do this anymore,” Clarke gestures to the two of them.

“No, that's not it,” Raven says.

“I should probably take those down eventually,” Clarke says, and Raven's not sure it's directed to her at all. “They tend to be a pretty big cockblock, but I just love seeing her. It's been years, but still.”

“I understand,” Raven sighs, placing a hand on Clarke's knee. She glances back to the painting of the woman wearing red and black, looking regal as ever and smiling down at them, and she remembers where she had seen the woman before. “Is that the same painting as the one in your tattoo room?”

Clarke moves her gaze from Raven to the painting across from them.

“No,” Clarke explains, “well, yes. I painted the one in the parlour first. And then this one. It's her expression that's different. She's smiling in this one.”

“Is that the same tattoo?” Raven asks, pointing to the painting and then pointing to Clarke's arm.

“Almost,” Clarke says, and she turns her arm so that Raven can see the writing, where the four letters of Lexa's name are written clear and bold. “It would be pretty dumb for her to have her own name written on her arm,” Clarke jokes.

“You weren't one of those couples with matching tattoos, were you?”

“No,” Clarke says, shaking her head, “I got this after she passed away.”

“I'm really sorry Clarke,” Raven sighs.

“No, it's okay,” Clarke replies. “I'm sorry I kind of ruined our night.”

“That's fine,” Raven replies, “we got to know each other better, so that's nice. Do you want to tell me a bit about her?”

“Is that a bit too much of a dark topic for a third date?” Clarke asks.

“Probably, but we've been having some pretty out there dates, so go ahead.”

The night doesn't go as either of them had planned. Instead, they both fall asleep, completely clothed, lying on top of Clarke's bed, whispering stories to each other.

...

“Lexa, I can't believe you're taking me to Disney World,” Clarke told Lexa in bed. They were living together for almost a year, and had dated for almost two. Clarke had moved out of Anya's spare room, and into Lexa's apartment and now they were lying together, in their room in their bed. Clarke's paintings and drawings were in every room, though that had been the case even before Clarke and Lexa were dating.

“Anya said I should do something special for our anniversary,” Lexa confessed.

“So you decided Disney World?” Clarke laughed. “How many Disney movies have you even seen? Two?”

“Shut up,” Lexa replied, playfully pushing the other girl. There wasn't much room in the bed to move, both girls were wrapped tightly together in blankets. “I remember,” Lexa started, grabbing her girlfriend's hand and massaging it gently, staring intently at their entwined hands, “you telling me about her your father had promised to take you. And then he couldn't. I hope that's okay.”

“Lexa,” Clarke whispered, tears coming to her eyes. Clarke didn't remember ever confessing that secret to Lexa, but she must have mentioned it in passing. “Lexa...” Clarke repeated, waiting until the girl beside her looked back at her. And when Lexa did finally look, Clarke's breath was taken away. The other girl's eyes were glassy, tears threatening to fall. She looked so small and young in that moment, even with the bedhead hair and the hickeys and bitemarks all over.

“I love you,” Clarke whispered, bringing herself closer and whispering the sweet words into Lexa's ear.

“I'm sure I love you more,” Lexa insisted, smirking as Clarke placed kisses down her neck to her collarbone.

It's a week later when Anya dropped them off at the airport, wishing them a safe flight. The trip itself was amazing. Clarke forced Lexa to take pictures with all the characters Clarke could find, forcing her to guess the names while they're in line waiting. Clarke forced Lexa to ride all the rollercoasters and rides, even the ones Lexa deemed they were too old to do.

Which is how they find themselves at a jewellery store later that afternoon with Lexa mourning the loss of her watch.

“I told you Clarke,” Lexa reprimanded, “spinning tea cups are demonic.”

“Oh, come on you big baby,” Clarke laughed, “I'll even pay for them to fix your watch okay? Just go give them your watch so we can go ride the Tower of Terror.”

Lexa made her way over, and Clarke browsed through the display shelves, trying to keep herself busy as Lexa detailed the importance of her watch to one of the storekeepers. Most of the jewellery seems kind of tacky, with Mickey Mouse characters on them priced way too high. But Clarke continues her journey, and finds herself face to face with a gorgeous ring. It's simple silver, with a small shining diamond that reflects blue. Clarke knew in that moment Lexa would love it, she'd say something poetic about it reminding her of Clarke's eyes, and Lexa would deny ever being that romantic.

Clarke discreetly called over another shop attendant, glancing back seeing Lexa safely occupied.

“That ring there,” she pointed, and the shop lady nodded, “can I put it on hold?”

“Yes, of course,” the lady replied, nodding and passing the ring over so Clarke could examine it.

“I'm getting a watch fixed,” Clarke explained, motioning behind her where the shopkeeper is still speaking with Lexa, “can I pay for them together? And pick them up together?”

“Yup, it's no problem,” the lady said

“Can you also keep it discreet? So my lovely girlfriend back there doesn't see it when we come back to pick them up?”

“Oh!” the lady answered, surprise written in her face, “of course. Yeah, that's no problem at all.”

“Thank you,” Clarke said.

“Congratulations, then,” the lady said, as she packs away the ring.

When the brunette was finally done ensuring the watch was in the right hands, Clarke took Lexa's hand and they stolled to the car they had rented for the week. It's in the car when the music is low that Lexa's asked her what she had been talking about with the lady in the jewellery store.

“Nothing much,” Clarke lied smoothly, “I was asking her for the price of one of those tacky Mickey Mouse bracelets. I was hoping we could get one for cheap and give it to Anya.”

“Anya would hate it,” Lexa said, glancing quickly at her girlfriend but keeping her eyes on the road ahead while she was driving.

“Exactly,” Clarke laughed. “But I don't think it's worth two hundred dollars just to see your sister's reaction”

“Then thank you for not wasting our money,” Lexa laughed.

“Yup,” Clarke agreed, “instead we're just gonna buy those bacon wrapped turkey legs at the park. So delicious.”

Picking up the ring and the watch go without a hitch, Lexa never suspecting a thing, and though Clarke worried that the airport would look through her things and Lexa would find the ring, her worries are put aside when they finally land.

As soon as Clarke gets time alone with Anya, she pulled out the ring, showing it off.

“What do you think?” she asked, worried Anya would disapprove.

“I knew this would happen,” Anya scoffed, “Lexa will love it. She'll say something positively gay about that ring.”

“Yes” Clarke beamed. “You think she'll say yes?”

“She'd be dumb not to,” Anya claimed.

Unfortunately Clarke didn't get the chance to propose. Lexa beat her to it. Lexa, ever the one to be traditional invited her out to a fancy restaurant, and insisted on picking her up, flowers in hand, handing them to Clarke at the door of their shared apartment.

“You're a bit ridiculous,” Clarke remarked, looking at her girlfriend that was dressed beautifully in a gorgeous black dress. “I don't get why you want to go somewhere fancy. We could just go to the Big Kahuna Burger.”

“With you looking as nice as you are?” Lexa scoffed, “I think not.”

Lexa had insisted they take a taxi, and on arriving and being seated, she ordered a glass of red wine, not bothering to really check the prices.

“Clarke,” she muttered, reaching across the table to grab the girl's hand. They had just ordered their meal, but Lexa couldn't wait. “I need you. You're everything to me, and I couldn't picture a day without waking up next to you. I love you, so, so much. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

And Clarke teared up, droplets spilling from her eyes. The proffered ring is shining in Lexa's hands, and Clarke easily accepted it, letting Lexa place it on her finger.

“Yes,” she affirmed, repeating the word over and over, like a promise or even a prayer. Clarke almost pushed the table in her rush to greet her girlfriend-now fiance's lips with her own.

And when the waiter came over, probably to tell them they need to chill out with their makeout session, Clarke glared at him.

“Can we get our food to go?” she asked, breathing heavily. “And the check, right now please?”

“Why the rush Clarke?” Lexa replied, and the only response she gets is a dark, seducing smirk.

“Right,” Lexa gulped.

It was back at their shared apartment, after a long session in bed, that Clarke got out from under the covers, with many complaints from Lexa. But Clarke simply smiled, searching through the drawers filled with old paintbrushes until she found it.

“I was going to propose you know,” Clarke whispered to the girl, “but someone had to ruin it by proposing first.”

She tossed the box over, it landing perfectly in the lap of the wide eyed brunette. Clarke returned to the warmth of the bed, watching as her fiance opened the box.

“It's absolutely beautiful, Clarke,” she gasped, and Clarke took the ring, carefully placing it on the other girls finger, and then carefully placing kisses on her hands and on other wonderful parts of her body.

Their date had ended up being maybe twenty minutes, but Lexa, when recounting it to Anya, and skipping her favourite parts, the parts that took place in bed mostly, Anya laughed, in full knowledge of both girls intention to propose.

“You two are hopeless,” Anya had sighed.

“You two are hopeless,” Anya repeated the night before their wedding. The two had been fighting and Anya had been coerced into being a marriage counsellor. And they could both tell she hated it.

Indra had sent them outside as well, since the bickering the couple was doing was loud and was waking up the other wedding guests who were going to be attending the wedding that was supposed to be tomorrow. Indra had sent them outside because Anya had started smoking, and both Lexa and Clarke knew Anya only smoked on occasions. Usually when emotions were running high, or she was stressed or extremely worried.

Clarke had seen Anya smoke only on one occasion before tonight, and that had been during one of Lexa's trips in Afghanistan. Lexa on the other hand had seen her smoke three times.

The girl was now lounging on one of the patio chairs, blowing smoke out into the cool summer night air.

“I still don't understand why you didn't try to invite her,” Lexa stated, “you invited Wells and your other small town friends.”

“That's not the point,” Clarke argued.

“I don't get it,” Lexa pointed out, “if my mother was alive I'd invite her to my wedding.”

“That's not really fair on Clarke,” Anya said, between inhales, “Indra's been your mother for as long as you can remember.”

“It's been three years,” Clarke said, “She's probably moved on.”

“That's hardly...” Lexa started and stopped, growing contemplative. “What makes you think she's moved on?”

“Nothing,” Clarke stammered.

“That weekend you went to visit Wells,” Lexa continued. “What happened?”

Clarke sighs, big and heavy. Both had been standing on the patio, shouting at each other, both at this moment Clarke seemed to pull herself away, sitting slowly on the steps of the patio, staring out to the stars and into the yard that's prepared to host a wedding. The calla lilies that lined the arch looked grey in the darkness. Lexa had picked those out, the purple ones, insisting they stood for passion, which was what she felt for her.

“I had tried calling her,” Clarke admitted, “and I got no answer. I tried calling her hospital, but apparently she had quit a year ago. That's why I went. Not to visit Wells, but for answers. Apparently, we're more alike than I thought. She left. Packed up. Forgot about me. Left.”

Lexa felt awful, so awful for insisting and reminding Clarke about her mother.

“I'm so sorry,” Lexa said, quickly pulling in the other girl for a hug, holding her as closely as possible as she felt Clarke sigh into her neck and felt the tears start to fall into her hair and onto her shirt.

“I'm the worst soon to be wife ever,” Lexa muttered into Clarke's ear.

“Hardly,” Clarke argued, her voice raspy from the emotional outburst.

“Speaking of,” Anya interrupted, letting out one last puff of smoke. “I'm done with you two. My little sister's getting married tomorrow and I'm the best man, so I'm gonna turn in.”

“She's ridiculous,” Clarke pointed out, looking at Lexa with a small smile even though there were still tears on her cheeks. Lexa did her best to wipe them away.

“You're telling me,” Lexa agreed, “and hey, you're the one marrying into this family!”

“I must be insane,” Clarke said. “But hey, the Woods are pretty hot.”

Lexa kissed her on the nose, blushing lightly.

“That's why Anya and Indra gave me their blessing,” Clarke joked, “because I'm hot too. You have to be hot if you want to be a Woods.”

Lexa sighed and shook her head.

“Anya was right though,” Lexa finally said, “I'm getting married tomorrow, we should go to bed. After all, I have to look my best for my wife.”

“Say that again,” Clarke insisted, as Lexa pulled her up so they were both standing.

“Wife?” Lexa confirmed and Clarke nodded. “Let's go to bed, wife.”

The ceremony the next morning was beautiful, and Wells walked Clarke down the aisle.

...

It's Thursday evening and Raven is already regretting her life choices. Octavia insisted they go out, and they're currently on some weird double date at Anya's. It's way too late to be out on a weekday, and she knows she'll regret it come tomorrow when she's at work dealing with a hangover. And she knows Octavia will regret it to.

“We should play a drinking game!” Octavia suggests. She's already three drinks in, and Clarke's only a drink behind, encouraging her.

They've stolen a table in the dark corner, and it's not too busy in the pub, and Anya's there, dealing with customers and scowling at some younger looker ones that seem to be asking for complicated drinks.

“What do you suggest?” Lincoln asks. He's slowly working on a beer, sharing a basket of fries with Octavia and Clarke, who seems unable to keep her fry stealing hands to herself. Each time he looks away, she grabs a few stuffing them in her mouth. Raven knows that Lincoln sees her take them every single time.

“We'll play Card Stacks,” Octavia suggests, “Clarke go get a deck of cards.”

“Whatever you say boss,” Clarke says, and Raven moves to let Clarke out of the booth they're sitting in. Raven watches her leave, eying the way her hips sway as she heads towards the bar and when she looks back at Octavia and Lincoln, Octavia is smirking widely and she knows she's been caught.

Looking back towards Clarke, the blonde has made her way past the bar, greeting one of the bartenders and shuffling through the drawers of the bar. Anya's made her way to her, and the two are laughing about something while Anya mixes a drink for someone.

Finally Clarke makes her way back, and Raven shuffles over, making room for Clarke to sit at the end of the booth.

“Anya says she's gonna close up in a half hour to join us,” Clarke announces smiling, “she also says she wants to play Never Have I Ever when she comes by.” Clarke is rolling her eyes and Lincoln groans.

“What's up?” Raven asks, concerned as to why playing such a well known drinking game would be a cause for concern.

“Anya's a bully,” Lincoln replies.

“She likes getting people to admit embarrassing stories,” Clarke explains at the same time. “She's brutal and shameless.”

“We'll beat her at it then,” Octavia decides, but Clarke doesn't look too convinced at the already drunk girl.

“So how do we play this?” Raven asks, eying the cards Clarke has pulled out.

“Lincoln, finish your beer,” Clarke demands, and he gulps it down. She grabs the bottle, placing it in the middle of the table. “We take turns putting a card on the bottle, like this-” she places the card right on top- “with at least two edges pointing off the card pile. If the pile falls, you have to drink.”

The first few rounds don't even reach her, as a very drunk Octavia seems incapable of not making the cards tumble down. But they finally get it going, and when Raven runs out of her drink Anya closes the bar down.

Anya heads their way once the bar is finally empty, and all of her employees and patrons have gone home. It's almost three at this point, and Raven knows she'll be up again in less than five hours but she doesn't want this night to end. She's having fun, they have their own private pub, and her's closest friends are here.

Clarke and Raven squeeze closer together so that Anya has room to sit with them, and now they're both very close, and Clarke's hand is possessively Raven's thigh.

Anya hands out the beers she had taken with her, giving one to each of her friends.

“So you all know the rules of the game, right?” Anya asks, and Lincoln sighs.

“Can't we play something else?” Lincoln asks.

“No,” Anya insists. “I got shit to stir up here.” She gestures to the table around her and takes a sip, meanwhile Clarke just snorts a little.

“Never have I ever cheated on someone,” Anya starts, watching Octavia carefully. No one at the table drinks, and Anya nods, signalling Octavia's turn.

“Never have I ever had a threesome,” Octavia says, smiling.

Anya and Raven both drink and Clarke laughs.

“You'll have to tell me about that sometime,” Clarke whispers loudly to Raven who chuckles.

Anya spends the rest of the night, asking inappropriate questions directed to Octavia, who spends the night drunkenly trying to impress her boyfriend’s overprotective cousin. Clarke spends the night giggling and chuckling at every confession made, and Raven spends the night swooning over every small, little drunk laugh Clarke makes.

...

The next time they meet it's purely coincidence. They bump into each other on the sidewalk in front of St. Anne's Cemetery, Raven's eyes downcast on the cement sidewalk as Clarke almost walks into her, causing Clarke to drop the flowers and sketchbook in her hands.

“I'm so sorry,” Raven says automatically, the almost collision bringing her out of her reverie. “Oh hi, Clarke.”

Both are rather surprised, and Raven rushes to return the flowers and book to Clarke, anything that will keep her busy and her emotions at bay. Anything that will cause the awkwardness of running into the girl you like right outside a cemetery after visiting your dead best friend.

“Were you... ugh...” Clarke struggles to find the correct words, “visiting someone? Oh... you don't have to tell me if you don't want to....”

Raven nods slightly, staring past Clarke, to the trees behind her.

“What about you?” Raven asks, not really needing to. The flowers are evidence enough.

“Visiting Lexa,” Clarke answers, “you can come and meet her if you'd like.”

“Sure,” Raven says after a minute.

The walk is silent through the familiar cemetery, and Raven reaches for Clarke's hand, trying to provide comfort and support. Clarke stops suddenly and awkwardly.

“Here we are,” Clarke sighs, motioning to the plain marble headstone that seems impressive enough. There's a small American flag planted by the headstone, along with an assortment of flowers and picture frames, some with Anya and some with Clarke, all featuring the brunette Raven has never met, and the script on the stone reads:

'ALEXANDRIA WOODS

SGT USMC

AFGHANISTAN

JUNE 18 1986

FEB 19 2012

BELOVED WIFE'

It all feels a little too personal for Raven. She backs up a step, not looking back to Clarke.

“I'm just going to give you some space,” she mumbles, looking to Clarke, who doesn't look at her, simply approaches the headstone carefully and quietly. Raven wanders off, finding a bench near a tree, and from the distance, Raven can see Clarke sitting by the headstone. She glances away quickly, giving Clarke her privacy.

Raven busies herself with watching the sun slowly lower, hiding behind massive clouds. It feels disrespectful to play on her phone, so she intently busies herself with looking everywhere that isn't Clarke. She observes the leaves on the tree next to her, the names on the headstones near her, wondering who they could have been and whether they get visitors.

“You didn't have to wait up,” Clarke says, sitting down next to her. Raven has been so busy avoiding her gaze that she hadn't noticed Clarke coming up to her.

“It was alright,” Raven replies.

“You didn't tell me who you were visiting,” Clarke mentions, “you don't have to....”

“I'd like to,” Raven replies, taking a moment to think. Clarke sits silently waiting, looking out towards the sea of headstones, watching as the sun set behind the trees and houses causing the sky to glow orange and pink. “Finn. He was... my best friend. My boyfriend, or ex I guess. We were childhood sweethearts. He was so important to me. He died when we were 17.”

Raven can feel the tears threatening to fall, and she keeps her eyes forward. She can't tell whether Clarke is looking at her, but she feels Clarke take her hand into her own, massaging it with her thumb.

“We can talk about something else,” Clarke quickly offers.

“No, it's ok,” Raven mutters, “I'd like to tell you about him.”

“Tit for tat?” Clarke asks, clarifying, “I'll tell you a story about Lexa, and you tell me one about Finn.”

“Tell me about how you met,” Raven asks.

“It was a little after I ran away from home,” Clarke starts, “I was 17....”

...

Clarke had gotten off at the bus stop, stretching her legs and arms, dragging her suitcase that was jam packed with clothing and essentials. Clarke had taken whatever she could, all of her money, a printed copy of the map with a little star she had made in marker, a sketchbook and a picture of her father along with her father's watch. Those two she had stashed in her purse, so she'd have them near her.

She had assumed that the little star on her map was closer to her bus stop, but Clarke had been wrong. She also felt a little cheap, and wasting money on a taxi wasn't in her budget at the moment. Though her suitcase was heavy, it felt nice to walk, certainly after the almost 6 hour bus ride from one city to another.

“I could have picked you up, you know,” Anya greeted her, as Clarke rang on the doorbell of the duplex. “Good to know you haven't gotten any smarter.”

“Haha, real funny, Anya,” Clarke frowned. She was truly happy to see the older girl once again. Clarke had known the older girl for a long time. They had gone to summer camp together, and both had eventually become counsellors and lifeguards at Camp Jaha's. But eventually, Anya had become too busy with her university studies, and Clarke had a summer of hell and neither girl had seen each other for two or three years.

The two had reconnect over phone and Anya had graciously offered her a room.

“I'll find a job as soon as I can,” Clarke insisted.

“Speaking of,” Anya suggested, “I have a friend who you could apprentice under, if you're interested.”

“Thank you Anya,” Clarke replied, pulling the girl into a forceful hug, “you're really doing too much for me.”

“It's no problem, Griffin.”

It was four months later that Clarke met Lexa. Clarke had settled in well, working as an apprentice with Gustus at his tattoo shop, and working shifts at a cafe near Anya's university. And it was after two shifts that Clarke returned home to find a bunch of duffel bags lying around the living room with the pullout couch set with blankets and pillows.

“Clarke, good to see you're home,” Anya greeted from the kitchen, and when Clarke entered the kitchen she saw a familiar looking stranger sitting at the table, eating whatever Anya had cooked up that night. The girl was dressed very comfortably, a tank top and some dark sweats, with her hair in a loose braid. The tank top displayed some very nicely formed arms, that displayed some beautiful armband tattoo that Clarke was sure Gustus had done.

“Clarke, this is my sister Lexa,” Anya introduced, “Lex, this is Clarke, the girl that's been renting out your room.”

It all made sense. Clarke had seen a few pictures of Lexa in passing, and Anya had mentioned Lexa a few times. Her sister was across the country doing military training, and had been out in service somewhere as well, though Clarke couldn't remember where. She remembered Anya staying up late, talking on the phone with her, the worry evident in her voice sometimes, though she would hide it if she had known Clarke had overheard her.

“Oh, it's nice to meet you,” Clarke replied, offering her hand to Lexa, who took it. “Is this your way of kicking me out Anya?”

“No,” Lexa replied for her sister, “no worries, Clarke. I've got myself a place for a few months while I'm on leave. Though I don't get to move in until the first.”

“Oh,” Clarke said, “then you should take your room back. Have your bed back and everything.”

“It's alright,” Lexa insisted, “that couch is comfier than it looks.”

“No, you should have it back,” Clarke said, “I can take the couch for two weeks.”

“Clarke, I insist,” Lexa replied.

Clarke didn't argue any further, she simply planned to take the couch before Lexa could do anything about. And Clarke won the great couch debacle, at least the first two nights. On the third night, Clarke comes home late, after a long shift at the cafe to find Lexa curled up in the bed, leaning against the couch back with a book in her lap.

Clarke had never been a very good loser, so after changing into pajamas and making herself a late night snack, Clarke headed over to the couch bed, sitting down on the unoccupied space beside Lexa.

“You're annoyingly nice, Clarke,” Lexa muttered, not bothering to look up from her book. Clarke took a few bites of her sugary cereal and looked to the girl.

“You're the one out there protecting our country and everything,” Lexa scoffed, but Clarke continued, “so the least I can do is offer you the nice bed.”

“Like I said, annoyingly nice,” Lexa nodded.

“So, what are you reading?” Clarke asked, leaning over to glance over Lexa's shoulder. Lexa closed the book, placing it on the table beside her and looked back at Clarke, slightly annoyed and stunned.

“You don't let people read in peace do you?” Lexa asked, only slightly annoyed that she'd been interrupted by this strange blonde. If it was anyone else, Lexa was sure she would have either glared at them until they left or resorted to petty threats. But in the past three days that Lexa had gotten to know Clarke, Lexa had become intrigued by her. The way Clarke and Anya interact was interesting, and Lexa was surprised whenever Anya considers things Clarke says and even more surprised when Clarke seems to read and understand Anya. Lexa had the art littering her old room, the one Clarke had taken over for the past months. The tattoo practices, the sketches of pigeons and old ladies, paintings of sunsets, even the drawing of her sister that Lexa knew Anya had no idea about. Everything she learnt about Clarke seemed to make Clarke an even bigger mystery.

“Have you ever been to Germany?” Clarke asked, and Lexa paused to think it over. The change in topic had been so sudden, and Lexa had zoned out, contemplating the girl.

“No...” Lexa replied, “why do you ask? Have you?”

“No, and I was just wondering. It came to mind,” Clarke answered.

“Would you like to?” Lexa asked, and the blonde seemed to consider it for a while before answering.

“Maybe one day.”

There was silence filled with faint shuffling of the blanket as Clarke fiddled with it.

“Clarke?” Lexa asked, waiting for the girl to look at her, “how did you meet my sister?”

Lexa needed some sort of explanation, a backstory, any sort of clue that would help her and give her clues as to who the girl on the bed beside her was.

“We went to summer camp together,” Clarke explained, “though it took a while for her to get a liking to me. A whole portaging trip actually, that went poorly and ended up with us losing a canoe. It was something. She hit me with a rock, once.”

Lexa laughed, the mental image of a younger version of the girl beside her being stubborn and getting a rock propelled at her something she'll definitely cherish.

“She did that to me too,” Lexa confessed.

“Why didn't you go to summer camp?” Clarke asked. Somehow during the conversation, during Lexa's imagining of tiny summer camp Clarke, Clarke had moved herself closer on the couch. Her voice had dropped as well, quieter and deeper, aware that Anya had gone to bed and would be going to work early the next morning.

“I did cadets instead,” Lexa replied and Clarke nodded.

“Did you guys have uniforms?” Clarke asked suddenly, and on confirmation her smile grows, “I bet you were adorable. Do you have pictures?”

“No,” Lexa replied quickly. She didn't want Clarke seeing the dorky pictures of herself.

“Does Anya have pictures?” Clarke asked, and noticing Lexa's eyes grow wide, Clarke smiles, “she totally does! Oh my god! I'll have to ask her for them tomorrow.”

The night pressed on, with Clarke tactfully getting embarrassing story after story from Lexa, about anything really. High school, cadets, growing up with Anya, everything and anything Clarke eats up. Clarke learnt of Lexa's step mom Indra, who was strict and structured, but cared so much. And she learnt of Lincoln, her step cousin, who was fun and had dropped out of cadets to pursue art.

Lexa asked Clarke about her childhood, her embarrassing stories, and Clarke told some, with a sense of awe, highlighting her father's greatness and the friendship she had with her neighbor Wells. But when it came to Clarke and her very recent teen years the girl seemed to clam up and avoid it.

It was months later, when Lexa had moved into her own apartment and the two were having a movie night alone. Months after the night that they had stayed up late on that couch, falling asleep together as the night carried on.

“It's rough,” Clarke explained when the topic of Clarke's teen years was brought up once more, those months later, sitting in Lexa's living room, the credits of a movie rolling on and on, “when wounds are so fresh. He died, my dad. And Wells moved away that year too, he had no choice. And I was alone and my mother abandoned her feelings and her daughter and concentrated on work instead. Maybe it was out of spite that I ran away. Maybe it was because I couldn't face my own feelings.”

“Have you spoken to her since? Your mother?” Lexa asked.

“No,” Clarke answered, “I think she's probably worried sick. It makes me feel awful about it, but I don't think I can go back. Not yet, at least.”

“It takes as long as it takes,” Lexa muttered.

They were incredibly close, sides touching, with Clarke's hands sitting in Lexa's lap.

Lexa sat awkwardly aware of Clarke's ever nearing proximity, and finally, when those blue eyes met with her's, Lexa did what she promised she would do. The thing Anya pestered her to do, encourage her to do. Lexa leaned over, taking Clarke's cheek in one hand and placed her lips lightly to Clarke's. Lexa felt Clarke's lips turn to a smile, before Clarke deepened the kiss, pushing against Lexa, moving one leg over Lexa's lap, to straddle her.

Lexa's hands had wandered all over Clarke's body, with Clarke encouraging every touch Lexa so delicately placed.

Their relationship became one of kisses late at night, make out session when Anya wasn't home and sex when Clarke didn't have to get up early. It lasted like that for a month, until Anya found out.

Finally, on Clarke's birthday, Clarke asked Lexa to be her girlfriend. It was a pretty awesome birthday.

…

Clarke’s 28th birthday rolls around and she’s having a huge birthday party at Anya’s. The pub is closed for the private affair, though it filled with pretty much the usual patrons.

“Body shots! Body shots!” Octavia cheers, and Clarke, who’s already pretty drunk can only accept, and that’s how Raven finds herself getting pushed towards the rather drunk birthday girl.

Anya passes them the necessary equipment, giving Raven a slice of lime, which she places in her mouth, wiggling her eyebrows at her decently drunk blonde.

Clarke goes to place the salt on Raven’s collarbone, but Octavia butts in, pushing Clarke aside.

“Come on Clarke,” Octavia jokes, “you’re a much bigger slut than this.”

Octavia ends up pushing Raven a bit, so the girl is leaning against the bar, and pulling up her shirt to display Raven’s abs. Clarke eyes go wide and appreciative.

“That’s what I thought,” Octavia confirms, laughing.

Raven nods in encouragement, and Clarke leans down, placing a fine line of salt on Raven’s stomach. Raven tries to stay still, watching as the blonde swallows down the tequila and with dark eyes, licks the salt off. Her tongue is cold, but before Raven can say anything, their lips meet, Clarke taking the lime from Raven’s mouth. The kiss is a mixture of tastes, and Clarke quickly rids her mouth of the lime before continuing the kiss, deepening it.

“That was pretty hot,” Clarke whispers, her hands holding Raven’s sides, slowly going up towards Raven’s bra. Raven stops her before she can reach the fabric, wanting to keep some surprise for later. Raven slaps her wandering hands down, and Clarke smirks.

“That’s a surprise for later,” Raven insists, “a birthday present.”

“Really?” Clarke asks, eying Raven’s chest as if she could see through the fabric of her shirt.

“You can unwrap it later, after the party” Raven says with a wink and saunters off, knowing Clarke is watching her hips.

Suddenly Clarke can’t wait for this party to end.

...

Clarke texts her a few days later saying she has a surprise for her and that she'll pick her up from work. Raven's patiently awaiting her, checking her phone, wondering where Clarke is when she hears the rumble of a motorcycle revving by and stopping in front of her. She's expecting some catcalling or heckling, but instead, the person on the motorcycle pulls their helmet off, almost dramatically, and the blonde hair comes flowing out.

“Hey there, Rae,” Clarke greets, smiling at the stunned look on Raven's face, “ready for a ride?” Clarke's eyebrows bounce up and down at the innuendo and Raven's mouth pops open in surprise.

“Where the hell did you get that?” Raven stutters, pointing to the black motorcycle Clarke happens to be sitting on.

“I may have borrowed it from one of Bellamy's friends,” Clarke admits. “We have it for the whole evening. So, what are you waiting for?”

Raven gleefully grabs the spare helmet Clarke offers her, and with a tiny bit of help gets on the motorcycle behind Clarke, using the excuse to scootch up real close to Clarke, and hold on tightly to her waist.

“So where are we going?” she asks, after they've zipped off down a few streets that seem pretty random. Raven's having a great time, the wind blowing through her loose hair, and Raven can't believe how much she's missed this.

Clarke drives them out of the city, and they're passing parks and rivers, and everything is just so pretty and unbelievable. Finally Clarke parks the bike at one of the parks, grabbing her pack from the back.

“That was amazing,” Raven smiles. “I miss these so much.”

“Yeah, we probably won't be doing this much though,” Clarke admits, and dropping to a whisper she continues, “I technically don't have my motorcycle licence.”

“Clarke!” Raven playfully reprimands.

Clarke opens up the pack she's brought with, unraveling a blanket and placing it on the grass beside them.

“You seemed to feel safe enough when I was driving,” Clarke responds. “Though you were holding on pretty tight.”

“That was totally an excuse to feel you up and you know it,” Raven reprimands, jokingly.

Clarke sits down beside Raven, reaching to her bag and pulling out two sandwiches and some juice boxes, passing one sandwich to Raven.

“Wow, this is real romantic, Woods,” she sarcastically remarks, tearing the plastic wrap off the ham sandwich Clarke had given her.

“What can I say,” Clarke laughs, “you're worth it.”

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Raven suddenly asks, and the tone of her voice breaks through the joking atmosphere, causing Clarke to almost jolt in surprise. Instead, the blonde's smile grows, and she closes her eyes, bring her face mere centimeters

“Of course,” Clarke whispers, and kisses her lightly. “Now eat your sandwich and enjoy the sunset.”

Holding the sandwich in one hand, Raven scooches herself closer to Clarke, using her free hand to support her and get closer to the blonde.

“I really did like the motorcycle ride,” Raven says on the way back to Octavia's apartment, “you remembered my story about Finn?” Clarke nods. It's the story itself that had inspired Clarke to ask around, knowing Raven would love to ride a motorcycle, certainly after almost a decade of not being able to. Raven had told her it months ago, at the cemetery.

...

It was the summer before the accident, before everything changed for Raven. The summer before Raven moved from the east coast to California for school.

Raven had just graduated high school alongside Bellamy Blake, and the summer was looking up. They both had many plans, involving camping and beaches, and pranking the younger Blake sibling. But those plans had changed the minute Finn came riding along on a motorcycle on the last day of school.

“Hey there, ladies,” Finn greeted, revving the motorcycle and pulling the helmet off to smile at his two friends. Raven's mouth popped open in surprise, though Bellamy failed to look impressed. He hid it well.

“Where the hell did you get that, Finn?” Raven asked.

“My uncle's visiting Australia during the summer, he said I could borrow it,” Finn replied.

“No fucking way!” Raven exclaimed, “what a way to end senior year. Hell yeah. Now scooch!” Raven insisted, and Finn frowned. Bellamy laughed.

“There's no way you expected to let her sit in the back and not drive,” Bellamy replied, watching Finn give up and move back, allowing Raven the space to sit at the front. “I guess you won't be needing that ride to South Point Beach then?”

“Hell no, Blake. I'll beat you there too,” Raven replied, tightening the helmet before smirking at him and zipping off down the street.

Raven technically did beat Bellamy there, though she had made rounds of the parking lot and beach path, before finally parking the thing and joining the party that was being held.

They made their way to Murphy's beach house. Bellamy was there arguing with his sister, who had dragged her friends along in hopes of crashing the party.

“Come on Bellamy, it's unfair,” Octavia argued.

“No sophomores!” He insisted, “It's seniors only. Just go home!”

“That's unfair,” she protested, and on seeing Raven and Finn there she added, “Finn's a junior and he's allowed! And Raven's my age!”

While valid points Bellamy shook his head.

“Technically Raven's a senior though. And Finn is her plus one,” Bellamy argued, “plus they aren't bothering me right now.”

“Fine,” Octavia huffed.

“Oh, I can give you a ride back home,” Raven offered, grinning widely.

“Raven!” Bellamy shouted, “No! My sister is not riding on that thing with you! No! You don't even have a licence for that thing.”

“Then I guess she'll have to stay here,” Raven said, shrugging. Octavia was smiling ear to ear. “Don't worry, she won't cramp your style. I'll watch over her for you.”

“I don't trust you at all,” Bellamy replied, crossing his arms and pouting like a child. He turned slightly to Finn, sighing and making eye contact. “You're in charge Finn.” He said before dramatically walking off and shouting at Murphy to make him a drink, something strong to help him deal with his current problems.

Octavia practically screeched, hugging Raven and jumping excitedly.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” she repeated, her hug getting tighter after each repetition.

“Yeah, yeah,” Raven replied, “now go have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

Before Octavia could run off with the small group of friends she had brought, Finn stepped forward.

“That's terrible advice,” he insisted, lightly elbowing his girlfriend and jokingly continued, “don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

“So...” Octavia thought about it, coming to a conclusion, “do Raven?”

Raven winked and Finn groaned.

“Alright, I wouldn't mind,” Octavia laughed, biting her lip and eyeing Raven up.

“Ok, enough of this, me and my girlfriend,” Finn said, placing emphasis on the word girlfriend, and grabbing her hand, “are going to go watch the sunset on the beach and share a few beers. We'll find you later and we can play a drinking game or something.”

“Awesome,” Octavia agreed, “see you two lovebirds later.”

The summer and the party passed in a blur, with Raven spending her days at Finn's or working her new job at the car shop down on Oak Street. She'd go shopping with Octavia, and play videogames with Bellamy and drive the motorcycle around the nicer parts of the city with Finn.

It was a late August night, one of their last on the borrowed motorcycle that they drove up to Coleman's peak, the nicest park in the area, that Finn had asked her.

“Do you think you'll apply to universities? Or leave this city?” he asked, the cool summer air causing Raven's loose hair to fly lazily around them in the wind.

“I'm not really sure...” Raven admitted, “I like my job, but it's definitely not what I want to do with my life.”

Finn nodded, silent for a moment.

“I think you should go,” Finn insisted. “I don't want you staying here because of me.”

He'd be returning to his last year of high school, his senior year.

“It's fine,” Raven replied. “I like this town.”

“Please, Raven,” Finn said, “you're too smart to be an underpaid mechanic your whole life. Plus you've always wanted to go to university.”

“I want to stay here,” Raven said, kissing him on the cheek, trying to get him to change topic. “With you.”

“You want to be awesome,” Finn smiled. “And that's not going to happen here.”

“Well, I can't afford it,” Raven said.

“Like you wouldn't get countless scholarships,” Finn refuted. “Just apply for schools. Please.”

“I'll just wait until next year. Take you with me,” Raven joked, “we could move in together, wherever I get accepted. It'll be adorable, like a sitcom.”

“Raven, seriously,” Finn replied.

“Seriously,” she answered, dropping her tone to one that was, “We'll one day get married, you can be my trophy wife, and I'll be some awesome engineer or something. Astronaut. Who knows.”

“Please at least apply this year,” Finn said.

“I will,” Raven agreed, “I promise.”

She did apply, and every single acceptance letter she showed to Finn, bragging to Bellamy days after as well, and contemplating the pros and cons of each one carefully.

Finn never learnt which one she'd chosen, never got to see her leave to California and they never had their sitcom ending. But when she did leave to the west coast, she thought of Finn. Late at night in her dorm room, she'd cry and think of Finn, their pictures on her wall. And when she graduated with honours, she knew Finn would be so, so proud.

...

The hospital party Raven drags her to doesn't seem that bad. Clarke's first worry is that it will be at an actual hospital, which is an idea she dismissed right away. She's been to these types of events as a kid and as a teenager, and they are always held at some banquet hall or something similar. Clarke feels like she has worried for nothing, causing Raven to needlessly worry as well.

But Clarke feels herself relaxing. It helps a lot that her girlfriend is very dressed up, looking absolutely stunning in a red dress and Clarke has difficulties looking anywhere else. The new tattoo peeks out from under her dress, a beautiful contrast to the red dress. Clarke wants to trace the design with her fingers lightly, follow it up and maybe place a few kisses here and there along the way. She'll have to be careful with her alcohol, unless she wants to get handsy in front of a bunch of elderly doctors.

Raven grabs her hand, smiling as she does, and pulls her along to the open bar.

“You know,” Clarke points out, smirking at her charming date, “this will be the first time I've been able to drink at one of these things... legally at least.”

“Oh, do tell,” Raven smiles, ordering two glasses of red. “Was our dear little princess a troublemaker as a kid?”

“Hell yeah,” Clarke says, sipping the drink handed to her, “Wells and I used to play a game when we were 12 or 13 and we got forced to go to these things.”

“Sounds intriguing,” Raven admits, “how did a game score you underaged drinks?”

“We'd distract people,” Clarke explains, “we'd go up and order pop, and one of us would distract one of the doctors at the bar, and the other would go in and replace their drinks with ours.”

“Clever, I guess,” Raven nods. “Bet that's the only fun you could have being a kid here.”

“Yeah,” Clarke agrees, “and free food isn't as exciting as a kid.”

“Is that the only reason you came? A free hot meal?” Raven teases.

“No,” Clarke replies, raising her glass and shaking it slightly, “there's also free alcohol.”

“I'm offended, Woods,” Raven laughs, “maybe I should just return you to Anya.”

“I'm gonna head to the bathroom,” Clarke decides, “then you can introduce me to all of your cool coworkers.” Giving Raven a quick kiss on the cheek, Clarke heads off towards the lobby.

Raven watches her go, making sure to appreciate her girlfriend in her beautiful dress, her armband tattoo spreading out on one side, and the arrangement of flowers peaking out on her shoulders below the straps of the blue sparkling dress.

“Is that your girlfriend?” Abby asks, breaking Raven out of her reverie right as Clarke vanishes from her view. “The girl in the blue dress that just left?”

“Yup, that's her,” Raven nods, a sense of pride welling up in her.

“She's a tattoo artist, correct?” Abby recalls, clearly having noticed the tattoos.

“She's extremely talented,” Raven answers.

“My daughter used to always talk about getting tattoos,” Abby notes, and Raven is sure Abby has had a drink or two. She never talks so freely about her daughter. “I had a rule back then. If you could wear a t-shirt, and not see a bit of ink, it was fine.”

“Huh... she told me something similar once,” Raven remarks. “She ended up disobeying that rule, as you could tell.”

Abby laughs.

“I'm going to continue mingling, you'll come introduce her to me later?”

“Of course, Doctor Griffin,” Raven nods, to which Abby just sighs, shaking her head playfully and wandering off.

After finding Wick and Monty and goofing off with them for a bit, her girlfriend finds her again, handing her another glass of red.

“Monty, Wick, this is my girlfriend, Clarke,” Raven introduces them, “Clarke, this is Monty from pharmacy and Wick, who's the head biomedical engineer at the hospital.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Clarke says, shaking both of their hands, “Raven's told me a lot about your antics.”

“You didn't tell her about the roof toilet, did you?” Monty asks, cringing a bit.

“Yes, she very much did,” Clarke laughs.

“That was all Jasper,” Monty replies.

“Like you didn't talk him into it,” Wick adds.

“Is he here tonight?” Clarke asks, “Jasper?”

“He's over there, with his girlfriend I think,” Raven points out, looking over at the couple who are currently talking with an older couple. “I'll introduce you to him later. He can be kinda fun.”

“Kinda fun?” Monty asks, “that's my best friend you're talking about. He's at least sort of fun.”

“Whatever, Monty.”

“The food is getting served,” Miller interrupts, returning from wherever he had been. Probably getting drinks for him and Monty.

“Hell yeah,” Clarke cheers, and impatiently grabs Raven arm, pulling her to one of the tables where the food has been set up. “I love those bacon wrapped shrimp things. You think they'll have those?”

“You're ridiculous,” Raven laughs, “free alcohol and you're more excited about shrimp.”

“I just have my priorities in check, Reyes,” Clarke retorts and they've made their way to the sampler table, where the trays of food have been placed. Raven can see her girlfriend eying up the table and licking her lips. Raven can't help but think about how adorable she is.

“Your priorities are screwed up, Woods,” Raven laughs as she watches the blonde fill up a small plate with thises and thats.

“Who else do I get to meet tonight?” Clarke asks, nibbling on her finger food and reprimanding Raven who tries to steal things every now and then.

“I'll introduce you to the Chief of Medicine,” Raven says, “she's pretty cool.”

“Sure,” Clarke says as Raven leads her towards where she spots Abby, standing at the bar ordering what looks to be a martini.

“Abby, this is Clarke-” Raven starts.

“Clarke!?” Abby exclaims, a mix of emotions apparent on her face, which is mirrored on Clarke's own face.

“Mom!?”

The realization is instant in Raven's mind. Clarke Woods. Who ran away from home when her dad died and got married, taking her wife's name. Abby Griffin, who's husband passed away and whose daughter ran away.

“Clarke,” Abby says desperate, tears threatening to fall. Abby takes hold of Clarke's shoulder, as if she's afraid Clarke isn't real. The sudden movement knocks food off of Clarke's plate, sending them scattering across the floor. “Clarke,” Abby cries again, and pulls the girl into a tight hug. It takes a moment for Clarke to respond and hug back.

“Mom,” Clarke whispers, and the hug finally breaks. Abby is studying her, trying to observe every detail that may have changed over the years.

“You ran away!” Abby exclaims, her tone of voice almost deadly. Raven can see people around them turning their heads as Abby's voice gets louder and more stern. “You. Left.”

The anger in Abby seems to be growing and Raven is getting worried about her girlfriend, who's got tears on her cheeks but seems on the defense.

The slap is sudden and unexpected, causing Clarke to drop the plate she had been holding, which broke instantly on the floor. If the slap hadn't caught the attention of the people around them, the shattering plate certainly did.

Clarke seems to be contemplating what to say or do, and is glaring, angry with eyebrows bent and teeth worrying her lip. But with a loud huff, Clarke simply turns and walks as gracefully as one can out the door.

It takes Raven only seconds for her body to catch up with her mind as she races to follow after Clarke, hearing the worried and begging shouts of Abby following behind her.

She finds Clarke sitting on the steps outside the hotel, staring at the neon lights in the dark and watching the cars drive by. Her heels are sitting beside her, and Clarke's bare feet are touching the cool sidewalk cement.

Raven sits down beside her, placing a hand on her knee and Clarke doesn't have to turn and look to know it's Raven beside her. There's music coming from a bar down the street, the sound faint and accompanied by the sound of the chatter of smokers enjoying a late night cigarette outside the bar.

“I'm sorry,” Raven sighs, “I didn't know. I should have put the pieces together but....”

Clarke finally faces her, and even in the darkness she can see how Clarke's makeup has been ruined by her tears. Clarke is silent and contemplative, and Raven wants to wipe the tears that may remain from Clarke's cheeks, but she doesn't move, instead she just waits for Clarke.

“It's ok, you didn't know,” Clarke replies. “It would have happened eventually. I'm sort of glad someone is here with me.”

Raven reads all of the implications into Clarke's 'someone'. The implications of someone that cares for her, that is here for her, current and important in her life. It makes Raven happy for a moment, and Raven pulls the other girl in closer, trying to keep her warm and comfortable as she deals with her emotions at hand.

“It's been almost ten years,” Clarke rambles, “I always imagined Anya being there, for the fallout and everything. There definitely would have been blood.”

Clarke sighs once more, turning her body towards Raven, placing her head on Raven's shoulder, near Raven's neck. Raven can feel every breath Clarke takes, and they're slow and tired.

“Let me take you home,” Raven insists quietly, after a few moments. She's unsure of how awake Clarke is. “A nice ten hour sleep will make this better.”

“You sure?” Clarke mumbles.

“No,” Raven answers honestly, “but I'll make you some pancakes tomorrow regardless.”

That earns her a small smile, and even if it's a tiny victory, Raven feels like they've won a war.

...

The morning after is extremely quiet and intimate. Raven wakes up to Clarke hugging her fiercely, holding on as if for dear life. Raven almost thinks she's sleeping but the grip is too tight, Clarke's breathing too deep and the sad and tired sighs too frequent.

Raven has spent the morning carefully providing for her girlfriend, pancakes as promised and calling the ever protective, older sister-in-law who lived three floors down. Who rushes over the minute the call comes in and hardly believes the retelling, all while helping herself to the pancakes Raven had made.

Its when Clarke is in the shower that Anya brings up something Raven had almost forgotten about.

“You'll have to face her Monday,” Anya points out, and it takes a minute for Raven to realize who Raven will face Monday. Abby. Clarke's mom. Her boss.

Raven sighs instead of replying.

“You know, I haven't threatened you yet,” Anya continues, and that gets Raven's full attention. She's looking wide eyed at Anya on the couch, who's fiddling with her nails. “You hurt my sister, and I'll fuck up that pretty face of yours.”

Raven takes this to heart, certainly since Anya looks completely comfortable with the implied violence.

“That said,” Anya continues, “if Clarke doesn't want to talk to her mom, you respect that. No matter how much your boss bothers you. Hell, if she threatens to fire you, you suck it up and get fired. I don't care. Got it?!”

Raven just nods and awkwardly scratches her arm, refusing to look away from Anya's penetrating glare.

“You know she threatened me, right?” Raven says later that day as they're getting ready for bed. Raven had refused to leave Clarke's side, wanting to be there in case she was needed.

“Who? My mom?” Clarke asks.

“No, of course not,” Raven answers, pulling the sheets back on the bed, “Anya did.”

“Oh dear god!” Clarke sighs, shaking her head.

“She gave me the dad talk,” Raven replies, as Clarke gets into the bed beside her. “She said if I hurt you she'd fuck me up.”

“She has no chill,” Clarke says, “she did the same to me years ago with Lexa. You know what that means?”

“What?”

“Anya likes you,” Clarke answers, smiling and giving her girlfriend a peck on the cheek.

“Doesn't feel like it.”

...

Monday morning comes too quickly and Raven finds herself standing outside the hospital doors dreading what she'll find inside. But Raven Reyes has never been a quitter.

“Hey, Reyes,” Monty greets at their lockers. “Abby wants to see you.”

“Coulda guessed that,” Raven sighs.

“Is Clarke alright?” he asks, and the worry on his face is sincere.

“She's recovering,” Raven replies.

“That's good,” Monty nods, “rumours are going around about what happened. No one's really sure though.”

Raven can tell he's curious, but she knows that Monty respects her and Clarke enough not to straight up ask. And she'll tell him, but not now. Not when this is still so fresh and new, and not when she knows she'll have to face Abby real soon.

Instead she just places a hand on his arm and gives him a thankful nod.

“I'm here for you,” Monty says, “you and Clarke. If you need me.”

“Thanks Monty.”

The walk to Abby's office is dreadful. There's surgeons and nurses whispering around her and trying to be discrete about it but failing horribly. It's awful.

She knocks on the door, and with a quick 'come in' enters the office.

“Hi Raven,” Abby greets. The doctor looks tired, and upon recognising Raven has placed her paperwork aside. “I'm assuming you know why I wanted to talk with you.”

“Kind of easy to guess, doc,” Raven replies, trying to keep everything light, but it fails spectacularly, and the tension in the room is extremely apparent.

“So, Clarke,” Abby states, “my daughter. Your girlfriend. Why didn't you tell me?”

“I... I honestly didn't know until that night,” Raven answers, feeling incredibly small sitting in the chair across from Abby's tired yet stern face.

“You didn't know?” Abby asks, doubting every word. “The point that your girlfriend and my daughter have the same last name wasn't hint enough?”

“I didn't know she was a Griffin,” Raven answers, trying to hold her ground. It feels like she's getting interrogated.

“So my daughter ran away and changed her name?” Abby asks, “that's what you're telling me?”

“No,” Raven retorts, “she got married.”

The instant Raven's reply is out of her mouth her eyes go wide and she shuts her mouth quickly, slamming her hand in front of it.

“My daughter is married?!” Abby exclaims, her face getting red. The anger seems to be growing until it hits a breaking point and suddenly vanishes, replacing it with a great amount of sadness and regret. Abby just lets out one giant sigh, one that is truly heart breaking.

Raven just waits, watching as Abby looks anywhere that isn't her, and Raven can tell that the woman is fighting tears at this point. Raven can only imagine what Abby must be thinking at this point.

“I want to see her,” Abby decides.

“It's not up to me,” Raven states, and Abby momentarily glares at her. “I really.... I'll give her your number. Okay? But it's up to Clarke.”

Abby seems disappointed at this but seems to understand, passing Raven one of the cards on her desk.

“Please Raven,” Abby mutters as Raven leaves.

“I'll talk to her,” Raven promises.

...

The card ends up staying pinned to the fridge door untouched and purposefully ignored for two weeks. Two weeks of Raven avoiding Abby at work, who goes out of her way to find Raven and ask her each time. Raven feels so guilty each time and feels so bad for never having any good news. But Raven is respectful and she doesn't push Clarke. She'll try to bring it up, and occasionally Clarke will entertain the thought for a while but most of the time Clarke shuts down, shaking her head and abruptly changing the topic.

But finally Raven returns to Clarke's apartment, opening the door with the key Clarke had given her and sees her girlfriend at the kitchen table, contemplating the small square piece of paper and her phone.

“You okay, babe?” Raven asks, and Clarke grunts a reply.

“What's up?” Raven asks, sitting down beside her.

“I think I'm going to do it,” Clarke says, her tone quiet and pleading and uncertain.

“Just start with a text,” Raven suggests, “you don't have to call her.”

Clarke bites her lip, and types away, passing the phone to Raven.

“How's that?” Clarke asks. The text is simple and straightforward: 'Hi Mom. This is Clarke. I'd like to get together and talk.'

“It's a start,” Raven replies, passing the phone back. Clarke reads it over once or twice before clicking send. The response is almost instant. Raven watches Clarke read it over.

“She wants to know if I can do tonight,” Clarke mumbles. “I... I need Anya.”

“Do you want me to go get her?” Raven asks.

“I'll send her a text,” Clarke says. “I can't do this tonight.”

“Set up a time with her,” Raven says. “How about Thursday? Me or Anya can go with you?”

Clarke nods, typing something up and sending it over.

“Mom says that's fine,” Clarke replies. “I told her to meet at the cafe on Bree's Avenue.”

“Do you feel alright?” Raven whispers, pulling Clarke into a hug.

“No,” Clarke answers honestly. “But I'm sure I'll feel better about this.”

They stayed together, close and tight, before Clarke sighs.

“I'm gonna call Anya,” Clarke tells her.

...

It's easy to tell Clarke is dreading Thursday. Wednesday they had been having a night in with Anya, sharing beer and watching TV and Raven could tell the fidgety girl was thinking all about her scheduled evening with her mom.

Thursday finally does roll around, and Anya arrives to pick up Clarke.

“I'll be here if you need anything,” Raven offers, kissing her girlfriend goodbye. Clarke had asked her to see her off, to help her relax before leaving, but otherwise Raven was just going to stay and await Clarke's return home.

“You'll do fine,” Anya insists once the door of Clarke's apartment has closed.

“Thanks for coming with, An,” Clarke says, taking hold of Anya's arm, and grasping it tightly as they walked to the car.

“You know I'll always be here for you,” Anya replies, “plus, honestly, I kind of always wanted to meet your mom.”

“I'm not sure it'll be that fun,” Clarke laughs.

“It'll be fine,” Anya ensures, “and if it's not, I'll stab her with a butter knife.”

Anya parks them in the parking lot, and Clarke takes a deep breath before unbuckling the seat belt and making her way towards the entrance.

“That's her, right there,” Clarke points out as they enter, and Anya nods. Abby doesn't seem to notice them, and so they quickly ordered two teas, Anya paying for both and head over.

“Mom,” Clarke greets, and Abby quickly puts her phone away and nervously smiles at her daughter.

“Clarke,” she blurts out, “I'm so happy to see you. Thank you for coming.”

“Right,” Clarke nods, “Mom, this is Anya. Anya this is my mom.”

“Nice to meet you,” Abby says, offering her hand to Anya, who refuses it, instead sitting down.

“She's here for moral support,” Clarke mutters and sits down beside Anya.

Abby is silent, studying her daughter, the tattoos on her arm and shoulders visible and dark. Abby clearly doesn't know where to start.

“I tried to find you,” Clarke admits, “6 or so years ago. I went back to the old house, but you were gone, and the Jahas didn't know where.”

“I moved on,” Abby sighs, “I couldn't stay there. Not anymore.”

“Have you been here this whole time?” Clarke asks, a bit surprised.

“I traveled Europe for a bit,” Abby explains, “and then took a job here. But I want to hear about you Clarke. Raven mentioned you got married.”

“Yes,” Clarke says, fiddling with her necklace, “Years ago. I tried to find you, to invite you to the wedding.”

“My little baby's married,” Abby mutters, her eyes wet with tears. “Does he love you? Are you two divorced? Since you're dating Raven now?”

“No,” Clarke sighs, glancing at Anya who gives her a reassuring look and grabs her hand.

“Oh,” Abby exclaims, “are you two...?” She points between the two, and Clarke's face scrunches up in confusion. Anya understands and scoffs.

“No,” Anya answers. “No.”

“Anya's my sister-in-law, Mom,” Clarke explains. “And my closest friend.”

“Oh, so you married her brother or sister then?”

“Yes, Lexa,” Clarke answers, “she passed away four years ago.”

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry Clarke,” Abby says, looking heartbroken, knowing the loss herself. Her daughter is way too young to be a widow. “I'm sorry for you as well,” she says to Anya, who simply nods.

“Please, tell me about her,” Abby insists, and Clarke smiles the tiniest of smiles.

“She was amazing, and beautiful,” Clarke describes, “intense in the best possible way. Here,” Clarke says, passing her phone to her mother with her free hand, the other still locked with Anya. “I have some pictures of her.”

The night ends up going smoothly, with Abby insisting they get together again, and Clarke feels pure relief when Anya drops her off, and she feels pure joy when Raven is there, waiting for her in her living room.

...

Clarke and Raven find themselves at Anya's later the following week.

“I still find it weird that you two are work neighbours and building neighbours,” Raven comments.

“We're technically not building neighbours,” Clarke points out as they head to the elevator. Anya herself lives three floors below Clarke.

“The apartment thing makes sense, you two used to live together and then space opened up in the same building,” Raven says, “but you two practically work together.”

Clarke sighs.

“You know Anya used to be a lawyer,” Clarke says, and if Raven's shocked she doesn't show it. “She quit four years ago, and opened up that pub. And then the boutique beside it closed down and she bought the space for me. She thought I'd maybe want to open up a gallery, but old habits die hard.”

Raven doesn't need to ask what happened four years ago to make Anya make such a big career change. She knows four years ago was rough for the whole Woods family.

“You know what's weirder than that?” Raven says, “the whole Woods family. I'm still not sure how Lincoln and Anya are related. And when we met you I thought you were Anya's sister. Because that's what O implied. That really blew my mind.”

“Well, we are sort of sisters,” Clarke shrugs, “but I get what you mean. The Woods family is full of step sisters and cousins and half brothers and such. Octavia will get a kick out if it when she marries Lincoln.”

“I think you mean 'if',” Raven replies.

“Nah, 'when'” Clarke assures her.

“I've known her longer,” Raven says, they've reached Anya's door, and Clarke knocks as Raven continues speaking. “There's no way that girl is ever settling down.”

“But like you said that one time,” Clarke smirks, “the Woods family is hot.”

“Amen,” Anya interrupts, welcoming the two into her apartment.

“Do you think Octavia will marry Lincoln?” Raven asks Anya, handing the girl a bottle of red wine- one to replace the one stolen months and months ago. Anya, to her credit, doesn't seemed fazed at all to be asked such a sudden question.

“I don't get involved with the plights of mortals,” she answers vaguely instead.

“That's not helpful, An,” Clarke says.

“Are you two betting on this?” Anya asks instead.

“We should be,” Raven says, sitting down at the table, as Clarke and Anya follow her in. The apartment smells amazing, and Clarke knows Anya has been making them something incredible for supper.

“If Indra likes Octavia then I'm sure Lincoln will propose,” Anya says. “Though if he's anything like Lexa, he'll propose regardless.”

“Hey!” Clarke shouts, offended by the implication that at one point Indra didn't like her.

“And I'm sure she'll say yes,” Anya continues, ignoring Clarke's outburst.

“See told you!” Clarke immaturely directs to Raven, sticking out her tongue.

“At that point, we have to hope Lincoln will survive the protective older brother,” Anya states.

“Right, so if Bellamy kills Lincoln, no wedding?” Raven asks, pretending to bite her lip and think over it. “My money's on mama bear Bellamy. No wedding.”

Raven helps herself to some wine, before smirking once more.

“So what did Clarke do make Indra hate her?” Raven asks.

“Back when they were 20 and staying over at the country house....”

“You know, sometimes I hate that you two get along so well,” Clarke sighs.

...

“Do you ever feel guilty about this?” Raven asks out of the blue. They're out for lunch at a cafe near the hospital, Clarke having closed the tattoo shop for lunch with her girlfriend.

It's become a sort of thing they do, that follows a routine. First Raven will text Clarke an hour or so before lunch, asking how busy the girl is, and Clarke will either reply that she's free or that she's got a client. And they'll go to lunch, and Clarke will walk Raven back to the hospital, and kiss her dramatically, like it's the end of a romcom and there's fake rain and tension everywhere. And Raven will laugh and tell Monty all about it.

“Feel guilty about what?” Clarke asks looking up at Raven after mixing the appropriate amount of sugar into her coffee.

“Dating people. Moving on. Living,” Raven clarifies, and she breaks the eye contact, looking around the busy cafe. She doesn't mention either of them, Finn or Lexa, but the light lunch mood has shifted, and Clarke's hands have gone straight to the ring on the necklace around her neck, like they always do whenever Clarke thinks of the girl she loved.

“Yes,” Clarke admits. Raven isn't sure what she expected. Probably a lie. An affirmative no that both would easily see through. “Always. Sometimes. It's hard. And I'm not going to say it's what she'd want. She wouldn't want me to move on, because she wouldn't want this to have happened in the first place. But it is what it is and it takes as long as it takes.”

Clarke isn't sure this even makes sense, but she's knows if anyone will understand it's Raven. Both carry their grief with them everywhere, almost needlessly.

“I'm worried I'll just forget him,” Raven sighs. “It's like I think of him less, certainly when you're... when we're together, and I don't want to forget.”

Clarke doesn't say anything, glancing quickly to Raven's arm, where below her jacket lies the raven tattoo. She quickly looks back to Raven, the saddest smile on her face, and grabs her hands. She has no words of comfort, because perhaps, in the moment there are none. Perhaps Clarke has no solution to this problem either, and worries about it just like Raven does, and maybe that in itself is just enough comfort to make it all ok.

They're both extremely quiet and contemplative on the walk back, but Clarke grabs Raven's hand as they walk, swinging lightly back and forth. They've reached the end of the walk, the north entrance of the hospital. Clarke squeezes Raven's hand tightly before turning to face her.

“We'll be okay,” Clarke whispers and she pulls Raven in for a tight hug, which Raven reciprocates, and though the tone is light, Raven really means it when she replies.

“I like to think so too.”

...

“Guess what I just found out?” Clarke asks when Raven arrives at her apartment.

“Lincoln proposed!” Raven answers, “I know. Octavia told me. That girl is bouncing off the walls at home. Jesus Christ. I'm never going to hear the end of it. I'll never be able to sleep again.”

Clarke laughs.

“That bachlorette party is going to be insane,” Clarke responds, and Raven grins. “It'll be like all of those awful drunk party movies.”

“Ugh, all the cliches,” Raven sighs. “But guess who's going to be a bridesmaid?”

“That's fantastic,” Clarke says. “I'm guessing Bellamy is the Maid of Honour.”

“Of course,” Raven laughs. Clarke is about to say something when her phone rings.

“Hi Lincoln,” she greets, “yeah, Anya told me.... Congratulations, I hear the bride to be is super pumped.... Of course. And yes, I'd be honored. I'll let Raven know, she's here....We'll see you tonight.”

Raven's left eyebrow shoots up in question as she waits for her girlfriend to finish on the phone.

“I guess I'm going to be a groomsman,” Clarke laughs after hanging up. “And Anya's the Best Man. They want to celebrate at Anya's tonight.”

“Awesome,” Raven replies, “that means we have a few hours to have our own fun before then.”

Clarke smirks and stalks towards her girlfriend, eying her up and down before making eye contact.

“I like the way you think, Reyes,” Clarke confirms, pulling Raven in for a dirty kiss.

...

“You don't talk about your mom,” Clarke tells her one morning. It's a Sunday, and they both have the day off, and Raven's in Clarke's apartment, drinking coffee and wearing Clarke's pajamas, though the times she's worn them they're more or less become hers.

“You know all the dish about my mom,” Clarke continues, “hell you even work with her, which must be awful”- Clarke is rambling at this point, but Raven doesn't interrupt, she simply nods along, fiddling with the tacky paint on her mug- “but you've never really talked about your mom. You've told me about Finn's mom though. And Bellamy's.”

“There's not much to say,” Raven says, “my mom was pretty absent. She wasn't really my mom. She was sort of like an awful roommate. She died when I was in my teens.”

“That's it?” Clarke asks, and quickly realizes that's not the appropriate response to someone telling you their parent has died. “I mean... I'm sorry.”

“No, it's okay,” Raven replies, putting her hand on her girlfriend's shoulder. “It's really okay. She wasn't really that big of a part of my life. I'm sad about it at times, but honestly.... Finn's mom did more to raise me than she did.”

“I guess neither of us is going to have to live through that meet their parents ordeal then,” Clarke laughs. “I mean, technically, you met my mom before you met me.”

“Guess so,” Raven agrees, taking a sip from her cup. “Unless you'd like to meet Finn's mom.” She mentions it offhand, not really thinking it through and almost regrets it when it comes out. She's visited Finn's mom so many times since her return eight months ago, but she wasn't sure it be normal to take your new girlfriend to meet your ex's mom who practically raised you.

“I'd love to,” Clarke says. “But only if it's not weird.”

“It's definitely not going to be normal,” Raven laughs.

...

“She's moving in with him,” Raven announces. “I have no idea what to do. I love that apartment. I can't afford it on my own.”

She's at Clarke's, sitting at the kitchen table across from Clarke's who's mixing up a stir fry for them.

“You should just move in here,” Clarke offers, and Raven blanks.

“What?” Raven asks, uncertain that she heard correctly.

“You should move in with me,” Clarke repeats. “Here. You like this apartment well enough, right?”

“Yes, of course,” Raven agrees, “but are you sure? I mean, we've only been dating 8 months.”

“So what?” Clarke answers. “It's not like you're not here all the time anyways.”

Raven rushes over to her, pulling Clarke into a searing kiss that makes Clarke forget all about the stir fry in front of her.

Clarke blames Raven for the burnt stir fry they end up throwing out.

Raven blames Clarke for making her cum in the kitchen.

...

A month later and all of Raven's things have been moved into the small apartment, boxes still lining the wall and taking up important space in the living room, but all of that stays untouched, laying wherever the two had left things, dark and empty in the apartment, the cool air breezing in from the balcony, making loose papers shiver.

The two are sitting outside on the balcony, legs swinging in between the bars, observing the night sky and sharing a bottle of champagne.

“I love you,” Clarke whispers, kissing the brunette that tastes like the bubbly drink and smells like sweat from moving boxes all day.

“I love you, Clarke,” Raven replies, deepening the kiss.

The city is quiet, unaware of the beautiful moment happening, the moment only has the stars in the night sky as its witness.