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It takes one look at the line of people wrapping around the venue for Raven to turn around and start walking back to the car. She fights back as Lexa drags her over the crosswalk, stepping over the outstretched legs of concert goers sprawled across the sidewalk as they lean against the wall, waiting for the doors to open.
“Oh, we’ll get there so we’re at the front of the line,” Raven mocks Lexa’s insistence on punctuality as they fall towards the end of the line. Lexa knows shows like this; get there early, camp out in line, and it’s a guaranteed spot at the front of the pit. Raven whined the entire time she sat on Lexa’s bed getting ready, saying three hours before doors opened was overkill, especially when they still had to sit through an opening band neither of them were particularly passionate about. “Looks like every jack wagon out here had that same idea.”
The burly man in front of them turns around, the eye brow on the heavily tattooed side of his face rising at Raven’s comment. Raven cocks her head to the side, challenging him to say something to her. A hand on her shoulder spins her around and out of her staring contest, Lexa giving her a warning look as they take a few steps forward.
“Raven,” Lexa holds out her hand, waiting for Raven to drop the pocket knife she knows is on her somewhere into it. It falls into her hand, quickly stashed into Lexa’s boot. “Raven,” She repeats, knowing there’s a small blade disguised as a key on the lanyard hanging out of Raven’s pocket. The whole lanyard gets swung towards her, a new box cutter clipped on that hadn’t been there the last time she confiscated Raven’s weaponry. “Raven, don’t make me strip search you.”
“Yeah, that’d be your dream come true,” Another pocket knife comes out of the lining of her jacket, and Lexa reminds herself to ask if she’s buying these things in bulk somewhere because the sheer numbers are terrifying. There’s at least two more in the car, one clipped on the driver’s side visor, another in the glove compartment, probably a few stashed in hidden compartments in the door panels she hadn’t noticed yet. “Excuse me for being concerned about personal safety.”
“Do not get into any fights tonight. I’m not getting kicked out of a PVRIS show because you like picking fights with people twice your size.”
“You’re one to talk, Miss I Broke a Guy’s Nose In a Dance Gavin Dance Pit a Month Ago.”
Lexa rolls her eyes at the memory. It hadn’t been intentional; the guy ducked down to pick up something her dropped on the ground, standing up right as her arm swung backwards, knocking his nose slightly off center. Purely accidental, unlike the time she gave a dude a black eye for grabbing her and Raven’s asses as he tried to squeeze between them to get to the front rail. Security nearly escorted her out for that one, only backing off when she pulled Raven away and buried themselves in the sea of bodies around them.
“Remind me why I still bring you to these shows again?”
“Because I’m a ray of sunshine in your life.” Raven dead pans as the line surges ahead again, people shuffling a few steps forward to close the gaps in the line. Murmurs of disappointment float over the crowds trickling down the street, groups of people making the trek from the nearest parking garage to the venue, only to be met with a longer line than they expected. Their spot in line doesn’t look so bad now. Lexa can almost see the pack of tour vans parked around the corner, people in front craning their necks hoping to catch a glimpse of Lynn Gunn wandering around.
“It’s mostly because you’re the only one who knows who these bands are.” Not that Lexa considers herself an elitist when it comes to music, but their friends’ taste in music is downright horrible sometimes. Car rides with Monty turn into Les Mis sing alongs, maybe Rent if he’s trying to hype them up for a night of bar hopping. Playlists about death and dying pour out of the speakers anytime Jasper gets handed an aux cord. Raven’s the only one who doesn’t give her a blank stare when she rattles off lists of band names coming into town.
“Anya’s on our side too.”
“Anya’s stuck in Texas.” Her partner in crime, the one who would break people’s noses on purpose, not feeling satisfied after a show unless she came out black and blue with hair plastered to her head with sweat, all missing because she was stuck riding horses or branding cows somewhere on a farm. Or working in an office that her boss transferred her to because it was falling to pieces and needed her to whip back into shape. She likes the idea of gunslinger cowgirl Anya running around causing ruckus more than stuffy suit Anya meeting with business investors and throwing big numbers and percentages around.
“Either way, I’m still flattered to be your consolation prize.” Screams erupt from around the corner, likely fueled by someone from the band peeking their head out of a window or doorway. If Raven’s insistence on taking a nap before they left and changing outfits three times was the reason they weren’t fifty feet farther up in line and able to see the band up close before the show, she might get abandoned downtown at the end of the night.
“You’re also flattered that I always buy at least two tickets to shows and refuse to let them go to waste.”
“You’re so cute when you don’t want to go places alone.” Raven pinches her cheek as the zombie like shuffling of the line continues, never seeming to bring them any closer to the main doors.
It’s a sign from the spirits watching over Lexa when they get inside, the floor of the bar nowhere near as full as it should be with how many people stood ahead of them in line. People lingered around the merch stands, trying to buy shirts before sizes ran out, or rushed to the bar to start drinking the night away before the headlining band even took the stage.
Lexa drags Raven behind her through the crowd gathering on the floor, bribing her with the promise of food at the end of the night to get her to throw a couple of elbows into ribs. She perks up at the idea, plowing into a pair of six foot guys they would have spent the entire night jumping over to try to see. The two share confused looks as Raven and Lexa slip a few rows ahead of them, wordlessly blaming each other for the sudden pain in their sides.
“Sure you’re not secretly a running back in the NFL or something?” Raven catches her breath as they lean against the railing in front of the stage, Lexa finding every perfectly sized gap between bodies to push them to their spots just to the left of center stage. Lexa crosses her arm behind Raven’s back, gripping the rail on the opposite side of her, keeping some of the pressure off Raven as the crowd jostles behind them.
“You still have so much to learn from me.” The lights dim as the first band takes the stage, the unfamiliar intro of the first sound flooding through the speakers. Raven reads Lexa’s lips, her “You good?” drowned out by the thud of a double bass drum; she nods and Lexa moves her arm from around her as the crowd crashes forward again, pinning them against the railing.
Three songs into PVRIS’ set, Raven gives up on the whole pit experience, yelling about heading out to rest her leg before pushing back through the crowd. Something about getting smacked in the head one too many times by a crowd surfer ticking her off, needing her brain cells to be spared if she ever wanted to become a NASA engineer. Lexa considers pointing out that sitting at the bar drinking won’t spare more of them if she leaves, but another person slips in Raven’s place before she can even process how she’d find Raven when the show ended.
Worries about Raven drinking the plans for the revival of the space shuttle, ones she had really been rooting for her best friend to make happen, slip from Lexa’s mind as hands shoot past her head, Lynn Gunn leaning into the crowd as the into to the next song plays. People’s arms trail as she crosses from side to side on the stage, desperately reaching out before Lynn crosses back to the middle of the stage.
The heel of a boot jams into Lexa’s head, the owner’s other leg flying right into the space where Raven would have been standing. It’s a good thing she left, Lexa sensing the crowd surfer would have ended up with a dislocated ankle if they collided with the already annoyed girl. Even with Raven watching the show from afar, the crowd surfer has bigger problems, like the rapidly decreasing amount of hands keeping their body over the crowd the closer they got to the stage.
With the crowd surfer right over her and the person to her right’s heads, Lexa stretches out her arms, catching them bridal style. A pair of arms sling around her neck as she steadies herself, keeping the person’s body from slamming over the railing. Lexa freezes at the sight of the woman in her arms; blonde hair streaked different colors with the stage lights washing over the crowd, blue eyes sparking in the few flashes of white light, a cut up PVRIS shirt hanging on her frame.
She looks between Lexa and the ground she nearly came crashing down on, piecing together how close she came to cracking her head open on the edge of a speaker. Her arms tighten around Lexa’s neck, a silent thanks for saving her, knowing the words would be drowned out over the music and the crowd. For a second, she forgets she’s still at the concert, that this blonde didn’t just fall out of the sky and come crashing to the ground out of nowhere and she might appreciate being able to enjoy the rest of it without some random person holding her the entire night.
Lexa swings to the side, dropping the blonde in a small space that opened up next to her as the crowd pushes towards the right of the stage. The word “thanks” silently falls off the blonde’s lips, followed by a smile before she turns with the rest of the crowd, watching Lynn cling to a microphone stand in the middle of the stage. Lexa’s head spins, and it has zero to do with the heat building up in the pit and the bodies ramming against her as the song comes to an end.
She keeps throwing glances over her shoulder towards Lexa, their bodies angled along the rail to get a better view of the stage. Lexa chalks it up to Alex Babinski being right beside her up on the stage, reminding herself that not everyone in the crowd had a raging crush on Lynn Gunn alone. There’s also the fact that she just got a free ride straight to the front of the pit and a prime spot for the rest of the night, mostly thanks to Lexa. While most people had to fight for a spot like hers, the blonde just fell right into it, probably not expecting to get that up close during the night.
The crowd stills for a second as the band paces around the stage, stealing sips of water before switching out instruments. The blonde leans up to Lexa, cupping hand around her ear.
“I’m Clarke.”
One of Raven’s cheesy pick-up lines about falling into her arms hangs on the tip of Lexa’s tongue, one she would never dare say in front of Raven, not wanting to endear years of her taunting for following through with one of her suggestions. It’s not even a good idea, more likely to send Lexa reeling in embarrassment and crowd surfing away from the stage, straight back to the doors and next to the dumpster she belongs in, than impress Clarke. Before she can make a fool of herself and actually spit the words out, the intro to the next song plays, claps along with the beat of the song drowning out her words.
Never in her life did she think she would blame a band for doing their transitions into songs too well; if only Clarke had been crowd surfing during the no-name band she dragged Raven to the week before at another bar across town, the one that took nearly five minutes to tune a guitar and get the drummer another pair of drumsticks. There she could have come up with something better to respond with. Like her name. Her name, which Clarke still didn’t know because she stood there for ten full seconds completely forgetting she even had one in the first place.
Clarke jumps next to Lexa, the two nearly in sync with each other and the song. Arms raised over her head, Clarke bumps Lexa in the back of the head more than a few times. Each blow earns an apologetic smile thrown back her way, and Lexa barely minds the fact that she’s going to have a bump the size of a golf ball back there when she wakes up in the morning.
As the song picks up, so does the crowd around them, bodies bouncing off one another like pinballs ripped loose in a machine. Being shoved around and having shoulders thrown into her is nothing new; Anya drags her into pits all the time when she’s around, Raven joining in when it’s not too rowdy and her knee feels up to it. It’s not a successful night out unless she’s breaking out the bottle of 800mg ibuprofen the second she gets home.
But Clarke’s no expert when it comes to the pit forming around them, judging by the look of pain flashing across her face as an elbow attached to what looks suspiciously like the same hulking guy Raven nearly brawled with earlier comes colliding into her shoulder.
Instincts take over as Lexa wraps herself around Clarke, her back taking the brunt of the blows of the apparent giant lumberjack pit going on behind them. Clarke stiffens in the bear hold Lexa has her in until she looks over her shoulder, finding the face of her same savior for the second time that night. Her hands fall on top of Lexa’s as the barrage of bumps continues, nonstop until the song ends.
They throw their hands up in cheers as the final song of the night begins. With Lexa still blocking Clarke from the people behind her and the pit shifting somewhere towards the right of the floor, there’s no need for them to stay tangled around each other. Clarke pulls Lexa’s hands back down around her waist, keeping them in place with her own.
Lexa’s thankful for Raven’s thin patience, knowing she’d be destined for a lifetime of her heroics being mocked, fueled by her continued inability to even make a sound, let alone her name or a full sentence to Clarke. Her gratefulness soars when Lynn crosses the front of the stage, arm stretched out and grazing over the hands of everyone within reach. She’s not sure which one makes her heart leap into her throat more; the fact that after months of waiting and shoving through crowds she’s actually touched one of her favorite singers, or that Clarke’s hand bumped against hers as Lynn passed, wrapping around Lexa’s and keeping it pinned under hers against the railing.
It takes minutes after the applause dies down and the house lights to flood the space before they can breathe again, the crowd on the floor trickling out to the streets or to the bar before last call. Lexa unwraps herself from around Clarke, leaning against the railing as she waits for the crowd to thin out more before making her exit. Raven’s still radio silent, meaning Lexa’s got a good few minutes of searching for her and that damn leather jacket on the crowded streets, calling her phone even though she’s notorious for never actually answering it.
The ringing in her ears sends tremors through her head, already feeling tomorrow morning’s headache coming in strong. But through the brewing storm in her skull, she’s still coherent enough to notice Clarke still standing next to her, standing on her toes and looking around, searching for someone in the sea people still blocking their way out.
“Hey!” Lexa yells as much as she can, her voice shot from screaming. Clarke does a double take, probably surprised that the person she spent half the night pushed up against actually had a voice. “You okay?”
Clarke nods, her voice just as useless. She takes a second to look away from Lexa, glancing over the crowd behind her, a small frown forming as her search comes up empty.
A narrow path opens on the floor as a few more rows of people slip away. Empty plastic cups, strewn ticket stubs, a few wallets and phones litter the path, but it’s their yellow brick road out of the still sweltering heat coming from the mass of bodies still packed in the small area. Lexa takes Clarke’s hand, the same one that held hers during the last song, nodding towards the part in the crowd.
Clarke follows wordlessly, the space behind them closing in as they pass, just barely making it out of the crowd and into the open lobby of the bar without being swallowed up again. Still no sign of Raven, still no sign of Clarke’s person as her head swivels around them. With people still brushing past them, shuffling to find their own split up parties or make a break for the last of the t-shirts up for sale, their odds of finding anyone disappear.
“Outside?” Lexa yells, having to lean into Clarke to make her voice heard. Clarke takes the lead, pushing them through the heavy wooden door of the bar and onto the sidewalk.
It’s cooler in the streets, the sidewalk slick with rain that fell while they were inside, the humidity in the air still more bearable than the heat inside the bar. There’s space to breathe without someone crammed up next to them for the first time in hours; Lexa takes in a breath of rain soaked air like it’s her first.
Most of the people outside rush towards the alley between the bar and the thrift shop next door, watching the road crew load equipment back into their vans, hoping to catch the band for last minute autographs and pictures. If Raven’s over there, Lexa won’t find her, everyone as densely packed behind the short security railings as they were inside the bar.
Lexa turns back to Clarke, her shoulders heaving in frustration as she presses her phone to her ear. She mumbles under her breath, urging whoever she’s looking for to answer their damn phone. She pulls it away, clutching it in her hand, threatening to toss it to the ground if she doesn’t see a familiar face in the next two seconds.
“Who are you looking for?” Lexa asks, figuring she might as well try to help instead of standing around next to Clarke like a lost puppy, waiting for Raven to find her first. She’s still yelling, the low hum in her ears muffling the sound of cars crawling down the street, trying to avoid packs of people darting between them on their way out of the area.
“My friend Octavia,” She looks towards the door as it flies open again, a group around their age rushing out, seconds of house music blaring before cutting off as the door swings shut again. Clarke frowns, clearly not finding Octavia in the group. “My height. Brown hair pulled up in braids. Possibly making out with a stranger she met after we got split up.”
A decent enough number of people around them met the making out with strangers criteria. Lexa’s spent too many nights pulling Anya off guys or girls that reek of alcohol and back to their car; once or twice that person has been Raven, events never spoken of again once the night was over.
“Maybe she’s around the corner?” Clarke shrugs and heads off in the direction with Lexa, both of them scanning the dwindling clusters of people for familiar faces.
A brawl breaks out in front of them under a streetlight, Lexa’s stomach sinking as she sees a flash of red in the mix, throwing blows at someone with an arm wrapped around their neck. She lets out a heavy sigh as passersby tear the fighters apart, seeing a scrawny kid in a red t-shirt nursing a split lip instead of Raven.
“Not who you’re looking for either?”
“No. Not Raven.” Finding out Raven isn’t the one scrapping with people in the streets should bring her relief, but the unease she feels not knowing where she ran off to keeps Lexa from appreciating the moment.
The pair rounds the corner, the street desolate aside from a few drunk stragglers making their way to another bar a few blocks away. The streetlights cut off, the only light coming from the headlights of cars passing down the main street, reflecting off windows of closed store fronts.
“She always does this to me,” Clarke groans, pressing her back against the brick wall behind them. Lexa leans next to her, foot propped against the wall, sharing the sentiment. At least Anya sticks by her side; Clarke’s been better at keeping close than Raven ever does when they go out together. “She better be at the damn car.”
“Did you park nearby?”
“Parking lot about a mile back that way,” Clarke points in the same direction Lexa and Raven came from earlier that evening. “Guy charged us ten dollars to park there.”
“Us too,” Lexa turns back around the corner, Clarke next to her as they retrace their steps to the parking lot. Raven’s paying her the ten dollars back for disappearing on her; Lexa guesses Octavia’s going to owe Clarke some money when they meet up again too. “I’m Lexa, by the way.”
Lexa prides herself on being able to remember she had a name in the first place, even if it came nearly an hour after she first learned Clarke’s.
“Lexa,” Clarke repeats as they wait for the light to change at the crosswalk. It’s a close second to being the greatest thing Lexa’s heard that night, just barely being beaten out by witnessing “St. Patrick” playing live in front of her. “Thanks for saving me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“How’s your shoulder?” Lexa shrugs as they cross the street, trying to hide as she winces at the pain in her muscles. Clarke had to be watching her closer than she thought during the show to know she was hurting, taking a few more rough bumps from the big guys behind her than she let show.
“Hurts.” It’s nothing a day of rest won’t take care of. Clarke raises an eyebrow and Lexa half considers telling her she’s gotten worse injuries than a sore shoulder: Anya gave her an accidental black eye at the last show before she left for Texas. Raven’s attempt at head banging at a Paramore concert the summer before left her with a slight concussion. Some guy she kept running into at shows for local bands made it a mission to kick her in the shin every time he saw her, recognizing her from the time she accidentally nailed her fist in his crotch.
“I’m never doing that again.”
“First pit?” Clarke nods and Lexa’s swooning in the middle of an empty sidewalk over the girl brave enough to crowd surf her first time. “You get used to it.”
“The getting thrown around like a rag doll part? Or the getting caught by a pretty girl acting like my bodyguard part?” She pauses as a truck rolls past them, Clarke flipping the passenger off as he yells drunken comments at them. Lexa’s glad she’s too focused on calling the guy a limp dicked noddle to notice her stumble over a crack in the pavement, catching herself on a light post before Clarke turns back around. No one should be able to make an insult of that caliber attractive, but Clarke faces her in the lamp light and Lexa swears her self-satisfied smirk has nothing to do with sending the guy rolling his window up in shame and everything to do with having heard Lexa’s quiet “Shit!” under her breath as she caught herself on the light.
“Don’t expect that kind of decency from everyone.” Lexa’s seen too many people not have someone like her around to catch them, or falling on top of a nearby security guard that tosses them to the ground, forcing them to fight their way back into the crowd.
“Maybe I need someone new to go to these things with.” Clarke keeps walking, Lexa taking a half second to process that they’re still trying to get somewhere and still looking for Raven and Octavia.
One more crosswalk separates them and the small pack of people trailing them from the parking lot. Lexa can almost see Raven’s minivan parked in the first row of cars, forcing herself to fight the urge to spring the last block and crawl inside. Cracked leather seats never seemed so comfortable, not when every step sent aches through her body.
“What about your friend?”
“Octavia sucks. She always abandons me. Last time we had lawn seats for a show. She went off to get us drinks and I found her an hour later making out with some guy on a-“
“Talking shit about me, Griffin?” One second Clarke’s next to Lexa, backs of their hands brushing against each other, the next she’s stumbling a few steps ahead of Lexa, doubled over with a small brunette on her back, braids slapping the side of her face. Clarke screams loud enough for the people ahead of them to turn around, half expecting to see someone getting mugged in the middle of the street.
“Jesus Christ, Octavia! What is wrong with you?”
Octavia slides off her back, standing directly in front of their path. One sneak attack from Octavia does more damage to Clarke than the pit did, Clarke still doubled over trying to catch her breath, hand clutched over her heart.
“Who the hell’s this?” Octavia jerks her thumb at Lexa as Clarke takes another shaky breath, standing upright.
“Lexa.” She introduces herself, extending a hand to Octavia. She looks Lexa up and down before rolling her eyes.
“Oh, so it’s only bad when I go running off with strangers?”
“You’re such a child,” Clarke grabs Octavia by the arm, marching back towards the parking lot. Lexa keeps a few steps behind them, not wanting to get dragged into a fight with Octavia. “Lexa was helping me look for you.”
“Didn’t know we had friends in the crowd tonight. Find her after your crowd surfing ass abandoned me?”
“Why weren’t you answering your phone?” Clarke changes the subject before anyone can confirm that yes, she did technically abandon Octavia for Lexa, never mentioning that she had a friend to get back to. Not that Lexa had any intentions of throwing Clarke under the bus; Clarke’s company had been more than nice in Raven’s absence.
“Yeah, about that. Kind of lost it.” Of all the phones scattered around the floor, Octavia’s could have been any one of them, easily found by the endless notifications of missed calls and vaguely threatening text messages Clarke typed along the way.
“See what I mean?” Clarke turns to Lexa, keeping her grip on Octavia as they stop in front of a sedan with a missing bumper. Octavia tugs her arms away, ripping the keys from her back pocket and climbing in the passenger seat.
“At least you know where she is.”
Octavia, barely visible as she sinks in the seat, throws her feet on the dashboard. One last glance around the parking lot offers nothing more than the sight of cars pulling out of the lot, Raven’s van still sitting empty. Lexa’s got the keys, so she knows Raven’s not going far unless she hitches a ride with someone.
“Aren’t you worried about her?”
“Clearly you’ve never met Raven.” She tries not to imagine how differently the night would have turned out if Raven stuck around. No, the night would have ended with Clarke scampering away to find Octavia the second she could, too weirded out by the two friends locked in a barely audible argument to stick around for the aftermath.
“She’s not going to pop out of nowhere like Octavia, is she?” Her knee might act up from time to time, but Lexa’s had too many near heart attacks from Raven popping out of unexpected places: the closet in Lexa’s locked single dorm room that Raven definitely did not have a key to. A suitcase left at the foot of her bed when she unpacked everything she took on her trip home over Christmas break. The kitchen cupboard with the leaking pipe she was supposed to be fixing because Lexa’s RA refused to call maintenance despite her waking up to a puddle of water every morning.
While Raven’s a master of surprise, she’s absolute trash and keeping her cover when it comes to teasing Lexa, especially when there’s a girl she’s obviously interested in. If Raven was hanging around, stalking them from the shadows, she’d have blown her cover by now, bursting into hysterical laughter when Lexa tripped or when she jumped three feet in the air when Octavia ambushed them.
“Not likely. Look, if your friend is really as bad as you make her sound, you could always ditch her. There’s a Yellowcard show playing here in two weeks. If you fee-“
A long, draw out blare of a car horn drowns out the rest of Lexa’s sentence. Just as the ringing in her ears started to fade, it comes back full force. Clarke and Lexa turn towards the car, Octavia leaning over into the driver’s seat, both hands pressed against the steering wheel. She catches them staring, Clarke looking ready to wring her neck while Lexa’s head rolls back, a silent sigh dragging out of her as her shoulders heave.
“Really?” Clarke yells, throwing her hands in the air. Another drawn out honk fills the parking lot, drawing attention from everyone; the lot attendant making bank off of everyone that night, the people making their way back to their cars, the drunk slumped along the side of the building across the street. “I swear, Octav-“
Every word out of Clarke’s mouth as she threatens Octavia gets cut off with another beep of the horn, a short staccato symphony filling the night air. Clarke punches the hood of the car, Octavia’s horn honking only stopping as she collapses across the front seats, laughing as Clarke tries to shake the pain of a nearly broken fist out of her hand. There’s a decent knuckle sized dent left in the car, and Lexa’s questioning whether or not Clarke actually needed her as a human shield in the pit or not.
“You were saying something?”
She completely forgets her intentions again as she watches Clarke nurse her hand. At least this time she still remembers her name, not that it matters when she takes Clarke’s wrist, carefully flattening out her hand and turning it over. Her fingers run over Clarke’s knuckles, skin reddened from contact with the car. Clarke hisses as Lexa presses down on the knuckle below her ring finger.
“Sorry,” Lexa mumbles as she eases away from it, pressing even lighter on the next. Clarke shows no sign of pain aside from the tender skin and a small scrape. “I don’t think it’s broken.”
“You do this often?”
“Actually, yes.” She’s an expert at wrapping hands and resetting the occasional dislocated finger, thanks to Anya, Raven, and their other mutual friend besides Lexa, vodka. There’s also been a few shoulders, but those usually go to Anya, Lexa too grossed out by the sickening pop of a joint popping back into a socket.
“Is that what you had propositioned for me in a few weeks?”
Lexa moves to let go of Clarke’s hand, but Clarke keeps them locked together. A small smile plays on her lips as she waits for her to answer, knowing Octavia won’t be interrupting with another orchestra performance any time soon.
“I think I’m much more suited to protect you from injuries than healing them,” Clarke laughs and Lexa almost wishes Raven was hiding in the trunk of a car somewhere, overhearing Lexa not screwing up her conversation with Clarke finally. “I don’t anticipate you getting hurt if you come with me to that show.”
“I think Octavia already scored us tickets for that,” Lexa falls into a stoic façade, swallowing the bitter taste of rejection. Clarke catches the look and squeezes her hand. “But she doesn’t get good spots on the floor like you do.”
“Clarke, if you’re going keep using me for good vantage points, maybe I should just take Raven instead.”
“Or we could drag them along and ditch them afterwards.”
Lexa nods, already plotting out an escape route for her and Clarke involving the upstairs bar, the balcony section that usually winds up roped off for VIP tickets, and a small semi-hidden stairwell that exits downstairs just to the right of the floor area. Octavia and Raven can fend for themselves or make friends at the bar, assuming Raven ever pops up again after whatever adventure she got herself in tonight.
A sigh rips through the air between them, knocking the dopey smiles off Clarke and Lexa’s faces as they daydream about their future date. Octavia leans out the car window, slamming the side of the door with her palm.
“Come on, Griffin. You gonna bang her or are you gonna take me home?”
Eyes wide, Clarke stammers out an apology to Lexa, Octavia only climbing back inside the car. The smirk she gives Lexa spell disaster, and she considered rescinding her and Raven’s invitation to join along; the two of them together can only spell disaster and attempts to cling to Clarke and Lexa the entire night.
“Don’t worry about her. Here,” Lexa pulls the Sharpie she kept tucked in her pocket for any emergency autographs out, scribbling her number on Clarke’s arm. It’s not as practical as actually putting her number in the phone she can clearly see sticking out of Clarke’s front pocket, but the silver ink stretching across her skin leaves a lasting impression. “We can figure out those post-show plans later.”
“Or you can help me hide her body.” Clarke nods back at Octavia, creeping back towards the steering wheel, taking advantage of Clarke’s distraction, another blare of the horn startling them both.
“I’ll see you soon, Clarke.”
“Bye, Lexa.”
There’s a muffled smack as Lexa turns around and heads to the van, no doubt Octavia sticking her head out the window to make another comment, Clarke silencing her with her hopefully uninjured hand.
Sitting in the driver’s seat, Lexa pulls out her phone, worry creeping over her when she finds no messages or calls from Raven. She presses the phone to her ear, listening to the line ring and ring.
“Calling your girlfriend already?” Raven’s voice crawls into Lexa’s other ear, a pair of hands settling on her shoulders and squeezing from behind the seat.
Her phone shoots out of her hand, falling between the seats as she screams loud enough that Clarke and Octavia probably heard her, despite pulling out of the parking lot a full minute earlier. Through the rear view mirror, she catches Raven rolling on the backseat, cackling as Lexa drops her head to the steering wheel.
“Are you trying to kill me?” Judging by the fact that Lexa could turn on the stereo with how hard her heart was beating out of her chest, Raven’s answer was yes. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Back here. I ducked out after the last song.”
“And you couldn’t call?”
“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Raven crawls through the middle of the van, falling into the passenger seat. “I saw you and the blonde getting all cozy and cuddly from the balcony. I know how you get when I accidentally run clitorference on you.”
“Can you please find another term for that? And you know damn well the last time wasn’t accidental.” She refuses to believe Raven just happened to pass her while walking to the library with the cute girl from Women in Literature, that Raven absolutely positively had to stop Lexa and have a conversation about coming over later that night to print out a paper at that exact moment. Raven never announces her arrival at Lexa’s dorm, always strolling in like she lives there or picking the lock and taking naps on Lexa’s bed. She knew what she was doing, and Lexa still didn’t stop reminding her, even a full year later.
“Fine, clam jam. Better?”
“Not even remotely.”
The five seconds of Raven keeping her mouth shut are the most peaceful Lexa’s felt since leaving Clarke’s side. The sound of her phone buzzes underneath Raven’s seat. She wordlessly fishes for it, a silent apology for nearly sending her into cardiac arrest. The sentiment falls as Raven starts whooping, clicking open the message on the screen.
“It’s Clarke, so you can have this for later,” Raven reads of the text in a sing song voice. Lexa reaches for the phone with one hand, trying to keep her eyes on the road. Every time she thinks she has it in her grips, Raven pulls her arm away. “Ooh, she even signed off with a winky face.”
“Put my phone down.” One swipe of a thumb and Clarke’s going to end up on the receiving end of a call either ruining Lexa’s shot with her or making her a witness in Raven’s murder.
“Calm down, I’m putting it away,” The phone falls in the cup holder, screen locked and no new calls being made. Raven pats it once for good measure, holding her hands up as she straightens in her seat. “I’ll give you credit, this Clarke girl is cute. You did well.”
“Thank you.” A genuine compliment from Raven is a rare treat, something not to be taken lightly. She knows the jokes about her heroic rescue of Clarke from certain pit fueled death were coming, probably over a Skype call with Anya recapping the night. For now, she’d savor it.
“But not as well as I’m gonna do with that cute brunette she had with her.”