Chapter Text
January
Clarke rang in the new year hunched over her kitchen table, halfway through a letter to Lexa. She didn’t pause in her writing as the TV screen behind her played a countdown, scribbling down 3…2…1…Happy New Year, Lex! instead, only pausing to glance at her father’s watch right at midnight, watching the new year tick into existence. Clarke added a small handful of resolutions, varying from the comedic, unserious ones she knew would make Lexa laugh, to the most serious of her life, Kiss you.
Clarke had considered asking Lexa out for the longest time, half in love with the stoic brunette from the first second she saw her, and falling the rest of the way there over their eight-year friendship. She adored the rare grins Lexa seemed to reserve only for her, the way her eyes would flash when she spoke of something she was passionate about, and the fact that she insisted on sending letters back and forth with Clarke, despite having access to emails or calls, swearing they would be more meaningful to them in years to come so that they would have something tangible to hold onto. Clarke had grumbled at first — “You’re so extra, Lex!” — but had given in when Lexa had whispered into the darkness on their last movie night before she left, “I want you to have something to remember me by. Just in case.” Clarke hadn’t let her finish the thought, chastising Lexa for dramatics though she agreed to the letters, enjoying and hating the growing stack that lived on her table, marking the weeks and then months Lexa had been gone.
Clarke sealed up her letter, blowing out a breath as she did so, fingers shaking slightly as she pressed the envelope closed. “Be brave, Clarke. New year, new me,” she whispered into the darkness. Her phone buzzed next to her, friends and family sending well wishes and no doubt a few drunk videos from Raven if the slew of texts coming in were anything to go by, but she knew the one person she wanted to talk to, wanted to share a New Years’ kiss with, was unavailable. Clarke settled for doodling on the back of the envelope to calm her nerves, adding a cartoonish sketch of herself and Lexa exchanging letters. She shoved the worries out of her mind, pressing a kiss to the envelope, leaving a small pink smudge, which she knew Lexa liked — Seriously, Griffin, what are you so worried about? You wouldn’t do that for any other friend , she thought — and stood from the table, stretching slightly as she blew out the dozen or so candles around her kitchen, all gifts from Lexa at various points. Clarke knew it was probably at minimum stupid and at worst a safety hazard to burn them all at once, but the comforting blend of various tree-scented candles reminded her of Lexa and the first time she slept under the stars, huddled up with Lexa for warmth somewhere lost on a trail near where Lexa had grown up.
Clarke tucked the letter into the box she’d already prepared for Lexa, between the baby wipes and a printout of Clarke’s NFL playoffs bracket, an empty repeat on the back for Lexa to fill out so they could compare accuracy at the end and settle their bet, which involved one brownie for every matchup Clarke got right over Lexa, and one homemade cookie in the reverse.
February
Clarke shifted her weight between her feet, the bouquet of flowers in her hand caught in her vice-like grip, nearly crushed towards the stems, sticky with her nervous sweat. She brushed her free palm down her leg, scanning the gate in front of her for what felt like the thousandth time, ignoring the latest rush of passengers hurriedly exiting the airport, excited to go home. Clarke checked her watch, re-confirming that Lexa’s flight should have landed twenty minutes ago, but not yet spotting her in the crowd. She brushed her fingers over the heads of the flowers, perking them up, pleased with the arrangement she’d gotten a fantastic deal on for buying three days after Valentine’s Day. The florist had assumed it was for her partner, after all, supermarket flowers would’ve more than sufficed for anyone else, and Clarke, nervous and hopeful, had just smiled and said, “I think, with a little luck, she will be.”
“Clarke Griffin!” Clarke’s head snapped up, the familiar click of the ‘k’ in her name getting her attention more than her full name being shouted across the airport. She looked up to see Lexa, bag slung over one shoulder, sticking her cap haphazardly on her neat braids as she strode confidently towards Clarke, people parting around her as if they could sense this moment was bigger than them.
“Lexa?” Clarke breathed, half-unable to make sense of what was happening. She’d been thinking of this moment for so long, playing it out in her mind almost every night falling asleep that now that it had come to life she could hardly believe it. Clarke stopped Lexa when she arrived in front of her, right hand still clutching the flowers but her left reaching out, gripping Lexa’s uniform jacket for a moment before cupping her jaw in her hand. “Oh my God,” Clarke said, pulling Lexa forward into an intense hug, smile breaking out on both their faces as they collapsed into each other, neither with the strength to hold themselves up but somehow able to support each other.
Neither could’ve guessed how how long they’d been holding onto each other when Lexa finally broke their hug, pulling back slightly to nudge the bag off her foot where it had landed when she dropped it in favour of embracing Clarke. “How are those New Years’ resolutions going?”
“Well,” Clarke started, grinning when Lexa raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. Clarke leaned forward, capturing Lexa’s lips in a kiss, ignoring the pricks of sweat surging to life all over her body and the way her heart thundered in her ears. She felt Lexa’s lips move against hers, the combination of face-splitting smiles and first kiss nearly taking her breath away as she pulled back, taking in the smudge of her lipstick on Lexa’s lips and her wide-eyed smile. “You tell me.”
March
“Clarke!” Lexa said as the door swung open. Snowflakes clung to her hair, messy braids confirming that Lexa had recently pulled the winter hat in her hands off her head. “Do you want to build a snowman?” Her eyes were bright, twinkling under the porch light of the Griffin family home.
“Lexa? Why are you here? How did you — get inside,” Clarke said, cutting herself off and pulling the rosy-cheeked woman into the house.
“I walked,” Lexa shrugged, pulling her gloves off and rubbing her hands together as best she could with the gloves and hat half-occupying them. “You said you didn’t like me driving in the snow.”
“So you thought I’d like you walking in it? Lexa Woods,” Clarke said, shaking her head in exasperation. “You are something.”
“Thank you,” Lexa smirked. “That’s why you keep me around.” Lexa ducked her head slightly so she could meet Clarke’s vexed smile in a kiss, pulling away after a moment.
“Cold lips, Woods,” Clarke said, turning to walk down the hallway back into her house. “Cold lips.”
“So was that a no on the snowman?” Lexa asked, trailing behind her. “Because I figured your mom would have a carrot in here somewhere, and I brought rocks for the face and smile. We can even use my hat for the top—”
“Put your hat back on, Lexa, it’s freezing.”
“—or if you have an extra, we can do that too. I left some sticks on your front stoop—”
“Where did you get sticks from, Lexa? There’s half a foot of snow on the ground already.”
“Clarke, we needed them for the arms! I picked them up on my walk. Where are we going, anyway?”
“I am going to get my winter coat, because unlike you, I didn’t intend to be spending any time outside in what’s projected to be the worst blizzard in half a decade. I mean seriously, Lexa, did you ever consider how you’d get home after building snowmen?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I was hoping to get snowed in with you,” Lexa said, a smile playing on the corners of her mouth. Clarke sighed deeply, spinning to face Lexa again from her spot in front of the closet. She reached up slightly to grab the two ends of Lexa’s scarf, pulling her in for a kiss and frowning slightly at the still-frigid temperature. “That New Year’s resolution is still working out pretty well for you, Griffin.”
“Shut it, Woods,” Clarke said, turning back towards her closet and yanking a hat and coat out of it. “Let’s go build your snowmen, you dork.”