Work Text:
The first time they steal the chairs, it isn't funny.
“Some drunk assholes stole the porch chairs,” Jasper whined as soon as he entered the house, slamming the door behind him.
The girls on the couch winced at the noise. “Uncalled for,” Octavia said under her breath.
“Whatever,” Jasper said. “I'm pissed.”
“You haven't used those chairs in months,” said Raven.
“I was gonna...” Jasper said earnestly. “Today in class I was fantasizing having a smoke on the porch this evening. I can't do that if there are no chairs.”
“You can't smoke pot outside, dude,” Raven said. “The neighbors will call the cops.”
“I am offended.” Jasper put his hand over his heart in mock shock. “I was going to have a cigarette.”
“You don't even smoke!” Octavia said, exasperated. She got up off the couch. “Who cares about the chairs anyway? Are they even ours?”
“No,” chimed in Monty from the kitchen.
“Nobody asked you,” Raven said, burrowing her head in the couch cushion. She was about done with everyone's shouting.
Monty poked his head around the corner. “The question was asked,” he said, no longer shouting. “And no, they are not ours, they were gifted to us from the previous tenants. Thank you football players.”
“A.k.a., they're garbage, and who cares if they got stolen?” Octavia said. “I'm going upstairs.”
“Wait!” Jasper said, grabbing Octavia's arm. “We have to go get them back!”
Octavia rolled her eyes. “I don't give two shits about the damn chairs.”
“Ah, but you do give one shit?” Jasper said, grinning.
Octavia sighed. “Nerd. I'm going to talk to Lincoln.”
Jasper waited until Octavia was safely out of earshot before continuing about the chairs. “Really, this is theft. We should report this.”
“To who?” Raven said.
It was true. They lived off-campus, so the campus police didn't have anything to do with this, and the city police had much better things to do than chase down a few broken chairs.
“We'll just have to go get the chairs ourselves,” Monty declared.
A silence fell between the group. Clearly nobody wanted to do what needed to be done.
“Unconfrontational shits,” Raven muttered. “I'll go get the chairs. Who did you say took them?”
Jasper bit his lip. “I'm like, eighty percent sure it was the lacrosse girls.”
“Jasper!” This time it was Monty yelling. “We can't just go around blaming our neighbors on hunches. We'll be the most hated people on the block.”
“Whatever,” said Raven. “I'll just go over, act like nothing's up, and if I see the chairs, I'll call them out on their shit.”
And that's exactly what happened.
##
The second time their chairs get stolen, it's definitely not funny.
“Where the hell are the porch chairs!?” yelled Jasper the minute he and Monty walked through the door.
“Ha ha, April fools,” said Octavia flatly from the couch. She didn't look up from her laptop. “You guys aren't funny.”
“No seriously, the chairs are gone.”
“Say what now?” Raven said.
"What's going on?" came a voice from upstairs. There was a shuffle of movement, and a blonde headed girl peeked her head over the banister, looking down from the second floor.
"Oh, hi Clarke," Jasper said. "The porch chairs are missing again."
Clarke hadn't been living with them when the last chair debacle happened, but she had heard plenty about it. "But... the chairs were there when I got home," Clarke reasoned. "That was only half an hour ago, and you've-” she pointed to Octavia, “-been on the couch the entire time. How did they get stolen?"
Octavia shut her laptop slowly. "Oh," she realized. " That's what that noise was."
"You heard them steal our porch chairs!?" Jasper threw up his hands.
"I didn't think they were stealing them..." Octavia was getting defensive.
"What else would they be doing?" Monty was trying to look pissed, but he couldn't contain his grin.
"It's probably just a prank," said Clarke. She was laughing too.
“It's not funny," Jasper said. "I was gonna-"
"You were not going to use the chairs, Jasper," said Raven, exasperated. "I'll get the damn chairs back. Not tonight though. I have an exam tomorrow."
"Well, I'm going go have a cigarette. I'll have to sit on the stoop I guess...." Jasper retreated to the porch forlornly.
Clarke slumped over the railing, laughing hysterically.
"Shut up Clarke," said Jasper, a little too intensely. Raven shot him a warning look Let her have her fun, damn it. It had been far too long since they had heard Clarke genuinely laugh at anything.
And so Clarke laughed. "Sorry guys, but, like, this would only happen to us.” She stopped laughing long enough to catch her breath. “I'm truly, truly very sorry about the chairs.” She tried to be serious, but her eyes betrayed her amusement. “Do we even know these people?"
"No, that's why it's not funny," said Raven. Although she spoke true – she did not find the situation amusing – she smiled as she said it, for Clarke's sake. Keep the mood light while it lasted. "If it was Bellamy or Murphy it would have been funny. But they're not our friends."
"It's not an April Fools joke, it's just theft," Octavia said.
"Nice going, O," Clarke teased.
"Yeah, yeah...." Octavia had opened up her laptop again. "Can you stop making fun of me and help me with my Photoshop project? I'm useless at design."
##
It had been three weeks since the chairs were stolen.
"That's it!" said Raven after the dozenth time Jasper complained. "I'm going to get out damn chairs back."
"Just wait," said Octavia.
"Why? I cant stand this kid complaining."
"You know he's just teasing. If he were really upset, he would go get them back."
"But he's such a pain..." Raven whined. “I have two classes with the kid and literally every day we walk in he makes the same bad joke about the chairs being attached to the desk so that nobody can walk off with them. Speaking of not funny...”
"Just wait,” Octavia repeated. “I've had a revelation. It is still April after all. We've got time for some pranks."
##
The next day, the doorbell rang.
"Who rings the doorbell? I didn't even know we had one of those." Raven went to open the door with Clarke in tow, curiously peeking over Raven's shoulder.
Two girls stood on the porch, each holding a rickety porch chair. Raven raised her eyebrows. "Oh. Wow. Cool. Thanks," she said, her voice devoid of gratitude.
"It was just a joke, I hope you know that," said one of the girls. Sure enough, they were lacrosse players. They were still wearing warpaint from their lacrosse game. Uber bitches.
"It would have been funny, but we didn't think we were going to get our stuff back," Raven snapped unsympathetically.
"Also, I just think you should know,” the same girl spoke up, "We think it's totally ridiculous that you were going to call the cops on us. That's way out of line."
Clarke didn't think it was possible, but Raven's eyebrows shot up even further. Calling the cops was so not in their plan. That would be far too much effort. But to her credit, Raven said nothing of the sort, instead enjoying the look of annoyance and slight nervousness spread over the lacrosse girls' faces.
Well, one of them anyway. The other one was standing quietly a bit behind the spokesperson. Her stance might have been meek, except for her death stare and gritted chin. Her hair was not windblown like the other girl's; despite being sweaty from the previous game, the girl's hair was impeccably braided.
Clarke was no psych major, but she figured that might mean that the girl was a little tightly wound. She wondered if stealing chairs was how she let off steam.
“Yeah well,” Raven's response brought Clarke back into the moment. “It's a rough neighborhood. We're a little defensive of our property.
“I can see that,” the girl eyed Raven up and down. The other girl disregarded Raven entirely and chose to look at Clarke.
Raven refused to be intimidated. “Thanks for our stuff back. Next time you play an April Fool's joke, you might want to make sure it's actually funny.”
The girl scoffed, but Clarke could have sworn she saw the quiet girl crack a grin.
##
Raven
11:55 AM
Girls from lax returned the chairs,
said it was just a joke, practically begged
to not be arrested for theft.
Octavia
11:55 AM
muhahahahaha perf
Raven
11:57
why did they think we were going
to call the cops?
Octavia
11:58 AM
That was my revelation
I may have mentioned it
to their coach.
Raven
11:59 AM
Praise.
12:00 PM
You should have seen their faces
Also, they were kinda bitchy.
They thought we were being 'ridiculous'
Octavia
12:03 PM
Keeping our shit for a month is ridonk
Clarke
12:04 PM
Keep using more of that valley girl
slang. I dare you.
Octavia
12:04 PM
CLARKEEEE nice of you to show
Clarke
12:06 PM
I'm in class.
Raven
12:06 PM
Oh good, keep this going.
Maybe I'll add Jasper and Monty
Clarke
12:07 PM
Please no
Raven
12:07 PM
Orrr I'll just tell O how that one lax
girl kept checking Clarke outtttt
Clarke
12:08 PM
That did not happen
Octavia
12:08 PM
OHMYGODHAHAHAHA
Was she hot at least?
Clarke
12:09 PM
I'm turning my phone off. Byeeee
Raven
12:09 PM
Oh yeah. Sultry. Loads of warpaint
running down her face. Nice
aesthetic.
12:10 PM
Also, whatever, Clarke.
Octavia
12:10 PM
That just sounds scary.
Raven
12:11 PM
Church tho, all lax players are hot.
It's even the first thing that comes up on
Google.
Octavia
12:17 PM
omg it is.
###
Clarke was home alone the next day when the doorbell rang. She debated even answering it; she was curled up in bed, still in her pajamas, sketching out a cover idea for the campus magazine. But the thought that it might be someone important nagged at her long enough to tug her feet out of bed and on to the cold floor. She tiptoed downstairs, hoping that whoever it was would assume no one was home and just leave.
The shadow on the door told her otherwise. She opened the door, fully aware that her guest was going to be greeted with a pajama zombie and not caring very much about that fact.
Standing before her was the lacrosse girl from yesterday. The quiet one.
“Hi,” the girl said, a little awkwardly.
“Can I help you..?” Clarke said.
The girl, who had been so stoic the previous day was shifting her weight from foot to foot. She looked quite uncomfortable, actually. Clarke was amused.
“I just wanted to apologize for the other day,” the girl said, glancing up at Clarke quickly between prolonged moments of staring at the porch floor. She wasn't wearing her warpaint, and she looked very much less intimidating.
In fact, she looked the opposite of intimidating. Her face was devoid of warpaint, but her eyes were ringed with dark circles and bloodshot. She looked exhausted, actually.
“Thanks, I guess?” Clarke said.
“It wasn't my idea,” the girl said. “Not like it matters, but it was the girls I live with. Anya and Indra. They're seniors.” As if that explained everything.
“I see.”
“I just, like,” the girl fumbled around her words. “I just wanted you to know that I don't have a problem with you. Or anyone in your house.” She finished in almost a mumble.
The apology was clumsy, but Clarke sensed it was genuine.
“Well, you know,” she said in an effort to make the girl feel slightly better. She was trying, after all. “If it helps, I don't have a problem with anyone either. I'm new-ish to the house.”
“I noticed,” the girl said. “I mean, I hadn't seen you around much before,” she clarified. She cleared her throat slightly, looking Clarke in the eyes once again. “Which is also why I'm here. Theft is a terrible way to meet the neighbors.”
“No kidding,” Clarke said, a bit unkindly. The girl blushed.
“So I thought,” she said. “I could maybe take you to coffee or something? To make up for the shitty prank?”
Clarke had to give the girl credit. She was at least trying not to be a bitch.
“Hey thanks,” Clarke said, dipping her eyes and brushing hair out of her face. “But no thanks. We're in a weird place, you and me.”
“I thought you said you didn't have a problem with anyone.”
“You steal from us, your housemates hate us...” Clarke said. “I may not have a problem with you, but we're certainly not friends.”
“Oh.” The girl's face fell briefly before she raised her chin again, steeling herself once again. “Right. Sorry.”
“Yeah,” Clarke said. It was her turn to be awkward.
“Bye.” And the girl left without another word, taking off towards her house at a brisk pace, not looking back.
Clarke didn't really feel bad.
##
"Ha ha!” Octavia exclaimed. She was laying on the couch, feet draped over the armrest, scrolling through texts. “Lincoln just texted me. Apparently he made the team run suicides today.”
Raven laughed. “Holy shit. That sucks.”
“I don't sports, Octavia,” Clarke said. She was also sprawled on the couch, her head resting in Raven's lap. “Explain.”
Octavia laughed. “Basically a shit-ton of sprints.”
“Suicides is an appropriate name,” Clarke mused, and as she said it, she couldn't ignore the nagging guilt in the back of her mind. The coffee girl would have had to run them this afternoon. She already looked so exhausted.
“This is turning into a shitty April Fool's joke for them,” Raven said. Octavia laughed. Clarke did not.
“Whatcha thinking about?” Raven said, stroking Clarke's hair gently.
Clarke frowned. “One of the girls from the house came over today. It was really weird.”
Octavia gasped, sitting up and giving Clarke her full attention. “Do tell.”
“She just wanted to apologize. Said stealing the chairs wasn't her idea. Her housemates are seniors... stuff like that,” Clarke said. She left out the part about coffee.
“Trying to make peace?” Raven scoffed. “Right. Probably just scoping out more shit to steal.”
Clarke hummed disapprovingly. “She looked really tired. I feel kinda bad that she had to run all those sprints.”
“She's a lacrosse player,” Octavia said, waving her hand. “They're built for this kind of stuff.”
“I guess so.” Clarke let the subject drop, but the thought wouldn't leave her mind.
“Speaking of the chairs, where the hell has Jasper been?” Raven said.
“Jasper's with Maya.” Octavia fake gagged. “They're so cute it pains me.”
“Well someone text him and tell him to get his ass home. The lacrosse players are suffering on his behalf.”
##
The next day, Clarke walked over to her neighbor's house.
One of the other girls answered the door. Clarke didn't recognize her. “What do you want?” she said.
Clarke pursed her lips. “That other girl that lives here... brown hair, usually braided? Is she around?”
The girl narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
“I just want to talk to her.”
“She's not here.” The other girl was dark, stern, with intensely burning eyes, and altogether frightening. Still, Clarke persevered, her guilty conscience driving her on.
“But I -”
“You should probably leave.” The girl stood, shoulders square, blocking the doorway. She looked impassable.
Clarke sighed, her shoulders dropping. “Can you at least tell her I came by?”
“Whatever.”
The girl shut the door before Clarke could stammer a thank you. Not like she would have meant it, anyway.
##
Indra closed the door, then turned to the girl sitting on the couch in the living room. “What the hell was that about?”
The girl on the couch shrugged, Indra's hostility not phasing her a bit. Deep down, she wished she had answered the door or revealed herself to the blonde girl. But she couldn't let Indra know that, so she held her tongue. Keep it cool, Lexa...
“Who does she think she is?” Indra went to the window, scowling, and watched the blonde retreat back to her house. “We had to run double the suicides because of her. Calling the cops on us... bringing Coach into this shit...”
“We did steal their stuff,” Lexa said, keeping her voice as impartial as possible. She came across sounding bored.
Indra only growled in frustration and stormed up to her room. “I hate this town.”
Lexa was left alone in the living room. And she allowed herself to smile.
Very slightly.
##
Lexa waited two days before returning to her neighbor's house. She had decided that one day would make her seem too eager; three would make her seem negligent.
She had rehearsed in her brain countless times what she would say to the blonde girl once she opened the door. She would not stutter this time. She would be confident and collected.
Her plan did not include the blonde's other housemates.
A brunette opened the door. Lexa was fairly certain she had seen this girl before, with Coach. What is her name...?
“Hi?” the girl said, bringing Lexa out of her thoughts.
“Hi,” Lexa said. “Is your housemate home? The blonde one?”
The brunette's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but she said nothing. Lexa took this as a cue to continue.
“I just wanted to apologize for my housemate,” she said, slowly letting go of the hope of seeing the blonde. “Indra is... difficult at the best of times.” The revised plan now included leaving the message with the brunette and retreating to home, where she would hopefully stay in bed until practice in the evening.
The girl raised her eyebrows again, cocking one higher than the other and narrowing her eyes as if scrutinizing Lexa's very character.
Lexa felt mildly uncomfortable. “Okay... bye.”
As she was turning to leave, the brunette called inside the house. “Hey Clarke! Someone's here to see you!”
Lexa wheeled back around, her face going slightly pale. “She's here? Why didn't you say something?” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.
The brunette smirked. “I just wanted to witness you being uncomfortable.”
Lexa gritted her teeth. If she had any brains at all, she would have just turned around and left. But the sight of the blonde approaching the door kept her rooted where she was.
“Oh,” Clarke said in slight surprise. “Hi.”
“I got the message that you stopped over...” Lexa began. All of her careful planning and prepared words seemed to be escaping her; running off the porch, retreating to her house across the street where she might be a bitch, but a confident one.
The brunette was still staring at her with one raised eyebrow and a smirk spreading across her face. “She had something to say to you... I guess.”
Lexa could feel herself blushing. Pull it together... “I wanted to apologize for Indra, my housemate.” She clarified. “She's... intense.”
“Yeah...” Clarke said, trying to be sarcastic, but lacking the emotional punch to fully commit.
Lexa saw Clarke glance at the brunette, who – why does she not stop staring? - seemed to also be rooted to her spot by her love of drama and possibly watching people suffer.
Then Clarke turned to Lexa. “Do you want to, like, I don't know, take a walk?”
“I can leave, yeah,” Lexa said immediately backing off. This was a mistake... a mistake... a mistake.. damn it. I should not have even tried. It's been too long...
"No, wait,” Clarke ducked back inside and grabbed a pair of shoes. She slipped them on between steps and followed Lexa to the porch. “I meant walk. Like, with me.”
“Oh,” Lexa's heart skipped a beat. She wasn't prepared for this. She was just supposed to apologize and leave. That was it...
“Let's go,” Clarke said. She wasn't exactly being friendly. But it was a start, Lexa decided as they walked off down the street side by side.
##
Octavia watched them from the window. When they were out of sight, she grabbed her phone.
Octavia
2:48 PM
omg you'll never guess
Raven
2:49 PM
What?
Octavia
2:49 PM
Clarke is fraternizing with the enemy
Raven
2:49 PM
What.
Octavia
2:49 PM
Yeah she's taking a walk with
that bitchy one with the braid
the one that doesn't talk
2:50 PM
Or didn't until today
to clarke
Raven
2:50 PM
what the shit
taking a walk
that's super weird
Octavia
2:51 PM
She didn't want to talk to her
while I was around.
Raven
2:51 PM
I dont blame her
you're nosy
2:52 PM
Case in point
Octavia
2:52 PM
shut up
Raven
2:52 PM
Wait...the one with the braid?
Octavia
2:53 PM
Yeah why? You know her?
Raven
2:53 PM
She's the one that was totally
checking clarke out the other
day.
Octavia
2:53 PM
hot damn
Raven
2:54 PM
this changes everything
oh lawdy
this girl does not play around
I hope clarke realizes soon
Octavia
2:54 PM
should I go rescue her?
Raven
2:55 PM
Clarke is fragile but not that
fragile.
This might be fun.
Lets just let it go
Octavia
2:56 PM
I'll keep you posted.
The texting conversation had left Octavia with a nervous anxiousness. Clarke wasn't the girl she had been a year ago. One-year-ago Clarke would have returned to the house, cracking up.
"This girl is totally in to me, O.” She would have said. “I don't know what to tell her. I'm taken? I'm madly in love with a crazy asshole of a boy with stupid hair and a thrill-seeking personality. Would that keep her away from me?”
And Octavia would have laughed along. “Dude, Clarke, you need to let her down gently. It's not her fault she's in love with you. You're hot.”
“I know it!” And Clarke would have flopped down on the couch. “I could tell her she's just not my type? I don't swing that way?”
“How do you know? You've never tried it.”
And Clarke would delve into details of her sex-life with Finn that Octavia never wanted to know.
And that's how it would have gone.
Octavia glanced out the window nervously. Would Clarke even realize what was going on? Or worse, would she realize what was going on and just go with it because of some suddenly awakened urge to do something spontaneous? Something damaging?
Finn's death had left her in a bad place. She sort of shut herself out from everything; dropped out of school and out of her friends lives for months. Since she had been back, she had been... off. Somehow. Her smile seemed forced and her eyes seemed empty.
She wasn't ready for this.
##
Clarke and Lexa walked side by side in silence for a block. Clarke scuffed her feet on the cracked sidewalk, telegraphing that she did not give a shit about this conversation that was about to occur. Even though that wasn't true.
“So...” Lexa started off. “We got off to kind of a weird start.”
“Yeah,” Clarke said, pensively.
More silence.
“So what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?” Lexa said. “The other day when you stopped by?”
“Oh,” Clarke said. She hesitated. Should she even apologize? It seemed like so long ago. Did the sprints even matter? Something within her told her that it did matter, in fact. Maybe not for the rest of them, but for this girl.
“Wait a minute,” Clarke paused and turned to look the girl in the eyes. “I don't even know your name.”
The girl gave a slight smile. “Lexa,” she said. “And you're Clarke, right?”
“My roommate is loud,” Clarke said. “Yes. That is me.” They resumed walking.
“I haven't seen you around much,” Lexa said. “Are you an underclassman?”
“I'm a junior,” Clarke said. “But I had to take some time off.” Her tone of voice closed the discussion.
Silence. Clarke kicked a stone that bounced down the walkway until it came to a rest in the grass a while away. In a few paces, they passed the stone. Clarke noticed because she was staring at the ground. Lexa did not notice because she was staring at Clarke.
“Anyway, the other day,” Clarke resumed, quietly. “I stopped by to apologize as well.”
Why? We stole your chairs... But Lexa just let Clarke open up at her own pace.
“We didn't mean to get you in trouble with the Coach,” she said. “I feel bad that you had to run all those sprints.”
Lexa almost laughed. “That's all?”
“Well yeah,” Clarke said, quite soberly. “You looked exhausted. Running all that after whatever kind of night you had cannot have felt good.”
It didn't, Lexa recalled suddenly. Three nights ago... three nights ago had been bad. The worst she had been in a while.
But she just shrugged. “We're collegiate sports players. You have to expect a tough workout occasionally.”
“That's what Raven said. My roommate,” Clarke clarified. “Not the nosy one. The sassy one. She said you're built for that kind of stuff.”
“Something like that.”
They had looped around the block and were heading back to the houses.
“I appreciate the apology,” Lexa said.
“I appreciate yours,” Clarke said, genuinely. “And seriously, I don't have a problem with you.”
“I don't have a problem with you either.”
Clarke gave Lexa a smile that lit up Lexa's entire world. Holy shit.
They had reached Clarke's house again. “I'd invite you in, but my roommate...” she pulled an apologetic face. Lexa nodded her understanding.
“It was nice finally meeting you officially,” Lexa said.
“You too.”
Lexa turned to leave, but Clarke stopped her.
“If you still want to get coffee sometime, I would not be opposed.”
It was Lexa's turn to smile. Genuinely. Fully. It felt almost foreign.
“Friday?”
##
Clarke walked through the door of the house, a gentle smile on her face. Octavia sat on the couch, scrolling through her phone at nothing in particular in order to look bored. Clarke knew Octavia too well to know that she wasn't bored. She was waiting. So Clarke made her wait.
“Did you beat her up?” Octavia said, looking up from her phone.
“Oh yeah,” Clarke said sarcastically. “You know me. Always getting fight-ey.”
“So what happened then?”
“We talked.” Clarke shrugged. “There's not much else to it. We both kind of feel bad that our houses are like, at war or whatever.”
“They're thieves.” Octavia could not contain her annoyance. This reaction was neither the response she had wanted or the response she had expected.
“She's not,” Clarke said gently but sternly. “And anyway, I felt bad for her. She had to run all those sprints.”
“You're ridiculous.”
“I'm just trying to be a peaceful neighbor,” Clarke said pointedly. “This neighborhood is already shitty enough as it is.” And she stormed upstairs.
Octavia opened her phone again.
Octavia
3:29 PM
She's defending her.
Raven
3:29 PM
Whos defending who?
Octavia
3:30 PM
Clarke is defending the braided bitch.
She didn't mention any weird vibes either
Maybe you made the wrong call.
Raven
3:31 PM
I know [heart eyes emoji] when I see them
and I am rarely wrong
3:33 PM
Maybe you're right though
Maybe we should just drop it.
Octavia
3:33 PM
urg but the thirst for drama is
strongggg
Raven
3:34 PM
If we keep talking about this sooner
or later Clarke is going to find out.
And she'll probably be pissed.
3:35 PM
I don't want to upset her.
The doorknob rattled and Jasper walked in.
“Bout time,” Octavia said. “Our chairs are back, your highness.”
“Hey, who was Clarke walking with?” he said, completely ignoring the chairs.
Octavia lowered her voice. “One of the lacrosse girls.”
Jasper did the same. “The chair thieves? Why?”
Octavia shrugged, closing her eyes and leaning back into the couch. Jasper dumped his backpack on the floor and sat down next to her.
“I saw them as I was driving back from Maya's,” he said in a whisper. “That girl.... she was throwing some serious heart-eyes at our Princess.”
“We're not discussing this,” Octavia said, even though it pained her. The struggle is so real right now.
“Did Clarke notice?”
“No, now shut up, she's upstairs.” Octavia punched him lightly in the shoulder.
“Ow. Jerk.”
##
Clarke woke early on Friday morning. This was weird for a number of reasons, but the largest being that she felt well rested. She couldn't remember the last time that she had woken feeling good about the upcoming day. And yet, here she was.
She made herself a piece of toast with jam and sat on the porch in the newly-returned chair. She sat barefoot, propping her feet up on the porch wall in front of her.
She had realized late last evening that she didn't have Lexa's number. The girl didn't have a Facebook either. Short of walking to her house, Clarke wasn't quite sure how she was supposed to get a hold of her. She did not want to walk over to her house.
But she would meet her halfway. Their porch was inviting enough, apparently.
Clarke didn't have to wait long. Lexa came walking across the street, going more confidently once she saw Clarke was waiting for her.
“I figured I'd just come by,” Lexa said once she reached the porch. “I realized I didn't have your number.”
“I tried to find you on Facebook, but you don't have one?” Clarke rose to meet Lexa, laughing lightly. “It's 2015. Really?”
“Yeah,” Lexa's face fell. “I deleted it a while ago.”
Clarke stopped laughing. She had touched a nerve apparently. “Anyway, coffee?” She gestured that they should start walking.
“Did you have a place in mind?” Lexa asked, rather formally after Clarke's comment about social media. Touchy. But Clarke understood that. She had considered deleting hers as well, after Finn.
She didn't know what Lexa's deal was and she sure as hell wasn't going to press it.
“I only know the one place, really,” Clarke admitted. “And it's on campus.”
“How much time do you have?” Lexa asked. “I know a cool place, but it's a longer walk.”
Clarke shrugged. “My first class is at noon.”
“Perfect,” Lexa said. “It's up by the mountain. Fifteen minutes away maybe?”
“Sounds fine.” In the back of Clarke's mind, something rang familiar about the location, but she couldn't place it.
"What class do you have at noon?” Lexa said, trying to make small talk, determined to not shut down on Clarke.
“It's a lab,” Clarke said. “Anatomy. Real fun.”
“That does not sound like much fun,.”
“Oh it is,” Clarke said sarcastically. “Especially when your partner is a total stoner. His name is Niko. What the hell kind of name is that?”
Lexa laughed lightly. Clarke meant no real offense. Niko happened to be Anya's brother, but she wasn't going to tell Clarke that. Anyway, she spoke true. He was a total stoner.
“What do you have the rest of the day?” Clarke asked politely.
“Two classes and practice,” Lexa said. “I work in the evening then.”
“Slow down there...” Clarke said. “It's a Friday. No parties for you?”
“I don't care for lacrosse parties,” Lexa said. And my other option is Costia's friends. I haven't talked to them in three years. “They're too loud.”
“Tell me about it,” Clarke said. “Well, should you ever have off on a Friday, our house is usually pretty chill. Speaking of stoners...”
Lexa laughed. How is it that Clarke could do this to her? The conversation had strayed dangerously close to Costia. Twice. And twice she had recognized it, processed it, and laughed afterward?
Is this what moving on feels like?
“So what is this cool place?” Clarke asked, huffing slightly. They had begun to go up a hill that would take them to the foot of the mountain. Clarke wasn't in shape.
"It's a little hipster place,” Lexa said, trying to contain her grin. “You've probably never heard of it.”
Clarke narrowed her eyes. “Did you just meme at me?”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” said Lexa coyly. She gets internet jokes. Have mercy.
Clarke nudged her shoulder. “Lexa the Lacrosse girl is a nerd. Who woulda thought.” Her voice was sing-songy. Mocking. Lovely.
“I expected it from you,” Lexa said, forcing herself to keep a straight face.
Clarke wrinkled her nose. “Liar.” She did a half skip. “I'm unpredictable. Everyone says so.”
“Sure they do.”
Between the skipping and the uphill walking, Clarke was out of breath by the time they reached the foot of the mountain. There, nestled in between trees and ancient buildings stood a little cafe. “The Bunker,” the sign read.
Clarke didn't think it was possible for her breathing to stop entirely, but it did. The Bunker. Finn. Finn was going to take her to this place someday.
“Princess,” he had said. “There's a cafe on Sky Avenue. It's half-buried in the forest, and you could draw the architecture for days.”
“This place isn't real,” Clarke had said. “Sky Avenue isn't even a road.”
“I'm telling you,” Finn had insisted. “I've lived here longer than you.”
“So what's in this cafe?” Clarke had said, to humor him.
“Everything, Princess. Any type of coffee you could imagine.”
“Do they draw pictures in the latte foam?”
“They do indeed draw pictures in the latte foam. And they have killer pancakes.”
“Clarke?” Lexa asked, her eyes full of concern. “Are you okay?”
Clarke couldn't process anything. She hardly heard Lexa over her heart pounding and rushing in her ears.
“Hey, hey...” Clarke was vaguely aware of Lexa taking her by the arm, hand around her shoulder, guiding her away from The Bunker and down the street towards the trees. At least, she knew that she was somehow no longer in front of buildings, but rather sitting on a bench underneath a large oak tree, Lexa's arm still on hers.
“You're okay. You're okay,” Lexa kept murmuring. The girl looked to be in some sort of shock. Although it was out of her comfort zone, she wrapped her arms around Clarke, allowing Clarke's head to fall on her shoulders, nestling into her neck. “You're okay.”
At some point, Clarke realized she was crying on Lexa's shoulder, or more accurately, into her neck, and tried to pull herself together. She took a few deep breaths, becoming acutely embarrassed, but unwilling at the same time to remove herself from Lexa's comforting grip.
“I'm sorry,” she finally said, wiping her eyes dry. “I'm really sorry Lexa...”
“It's okay. It's really okay,” Lexa just kept repeating. There was nothing in her eyes except concern. They sought Clarke's eyes with an earnest want—a need, a need to know her. Her heart, her worries, and ever simply, that she was okay.
“Oh god.. Lexa...” Clarke laughed--and it was a messy laugh, half-sob—“I've ruined coffee. Damnit.”
“It's okay--”
“Stop saying that!” Clarke said, angrily. “It's not okay!”
Lexa was a little taken aback. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really...” Clarke laughed again, bitterly. “I don't have a reason to fall apart like that. I've never even been here before.”
Lexa was quiet, her eyes searching, begging Clarke to trust her. And Clarke found that she did.
“My boyfriend was going to take me here,” she gave up.
Boyfriend. Oh.
“And now he's fucking dead,” Clarke said fiercely, as if the words were bullets. “He's fucking dead. Eight months. It's been eight months.” She sighed, her energy leaving her. “He said this place has awesome pancakes.”
Oh.
Lexa was silent. This was not the revelation she had expected to hear. And from the breaking of Clarke's voice, it was a revelation that Clarke had desperately needed to say aloud.
“I know how you feel,” Lexa said quietly. She wasn't sure if it was her place to talk about herself, but she desperately wanted Clarke to know that she wasn't alone. “I lost someone too.”
“Who was he?” Clarke sniffed, rubbing her eyes clear once again.
“She,” Lexa corrected with a half-smile. “Her name was Costia. It was three years ago.”
“I'm sorry,” Clarke said.
“I'm sorry too,” Lexa said. “I just want you to know you're not alone, okay? I get it.”
“Nobody else does,” Clarke said. “I know that sounds angsty of me, but really, thank you.” And at last, Clarke met Lexa's eyes with bloodshot ones of her own. “Let's go get coffee.”
“Are you sure?” Lexa said, standing up. “We really don't have to.”
Clarke nodded determinedly. “I have to move passed this.”
“I get that too.”
And Clarke opened her hand for Lexa's, and Lexa pulled her up. Together, they walked to The Bunker hand in hand. Clarke's jaw set and staring intently ahead.
They did make pictures in the latte foam.
“Tell me about Costia,” Clarke said. She was handling herself surprisingly well so far, Lexa noted. Perhaps the breakdown had been a release of some kind.
“That is, if you want to.”
Lexa nodded, although her heart told her to stop. Perhaps it would be therapeutic.
“Costia and I met our freshman year of high school,” she began. “We were at some leadership camp. She was terrible at leadership things,” she laughed. “I wasn't so bad.
“Anyway, we became best friends and then we sort of... fell into each other. I don't know...” Lexa said, her face falling. “Maybe that's dumb. But we were just together. It always seemed like we were together.
“She was beautiful. And there wasn't an unkind bone in her body,” Lexa smiled. “She was better than me. Too good for me.”
Clarke reached out her hand and took Lexa's. “She sounds wonderful,” she said. “But you're great too. Don't forget that.”
Lexa was puzzled. How was it that this girl, in so much pain, could bring her such relief?
“Now you tell me,” Lexa said. “If you want to. I promise, it makes things feel better.”
Clarke gave Lexa a sad smile. “Finn was a daredevil. We met freshman year. He was engaged in a nerf gun battle with our RA. Roped me into it. I was just trying to study.” She shook her head, blonde curls falling in front of her eyes. She didn't want to go on.
“He sounds like good fun,” Lexa said. “I'm glad you have good memories.”
Clarke nodded, then she grinned. “I'm not sure I believe you,” she said. “about feeling better.”
“In time,” Lexa said. She didn't know what else she could say. Up until recently, she didn't believe the pain would go away either.
They stayed at The Bunker longer than expected; long enough to get hungry for breakfast. They split a short stack of blueberry pancakes. The pancakes lived up to expectations. The rest of the breakfast passed with talk of majors and classes, roommates and family members. The tension had eased, and they were free to enjoy each other's company.
The walk back to the houses was filled with much the same. The day was shaping up to be quite beautiful. Clarke's heart felt lighter than it had in a long time. Lexa was right.
“How is it that we found each other?” Clarke asked after a pensive silence.
“What?”
“You're just the person I needed,” Clarke said. “You get me. How is that? How do the stars align so perfectly?”
Lexa's heart swelled. “Clarke, I--” she didn't really know what to say. She settled for staring at the ground and blushing furiously.
“It's not just that,” Clarke continued. She had been confessing all morning it seemed. Why not continue? “We've been talking all morning, so easily. And we hardly know each other.”
“Like I said,” Lexa finally got her voice back. “I don't have a problem with you.”
Clarke grinned. “You have a problem with most people?”
Lexa shrugged. Yes.
“You don't even defend yourself. Weak.”
Lexa nudged her shoulder playfully.
“Also weak. I thought you were an athlete.”
“Clarke,” Lexa said warningly. “Watch yourself.”
Clarke smiled her brilliant smile. Her eyes were bright again, Lexa noticed.
And Clarke noticed that the smile came easily.
They stopped in front of Clarke's house, right where they had started.
“Thank you, Lexa,” Clarke said, staring intently at Lexa. “For everything.”
Lexa could barely hold Clarke's gaze. Weak...
“Thank you, Clarke,” Lexa returned, her voice catching in her throat. “For trusting me enough to open up.”
The blonde stepped forward to embrace Lexa, who found herself thinking vaguely of her housemates that could be watching, but not caring very much. When they broke apart, Clarke kissed Lexa lightly on the cheek.
“Next Friday,” Clarke murmured, lips still sufficatingly close to Lexa's face. “Party at mine? Please be there.”
Lexa didn't really remember what happened after that. She supposed Clarke must have gone inside, because when she blinked, Clarke was no longer there. Blackout.
That was oddly sexual... She hoped that Clarke knew what she was doing. Because Lexa didn't have a damn idea.
##
Octavia was texting Raven furiously. Raven wasn't responding. So Octavia pounded on her bedroom door.
“Raven, it's important,” she said. No response. “I'm coming in.”
She barged in the door to be greeted Raven, who had buried her head under her pillow.
“For the love of all that is holy,” Raven said, her voice muffled. “It is a Friday morning. Let a woman sleep in peace.”
Octavia jumped on her bed. “Raven Raven Raven!” she said, shaking her housemate and drawing back the blinds. “Look out the window!”
Raven practically hissed as she opened her eyes to the light. “If this is about Clarke, I swear to --”
“Just look.”
Raven crawled to the window where she peeked out to the porch below. “I can't see a damn thing.”
“You need to be up higher.” Octavia kneeled on Raven's bed, craning her neck to see.
“Narrate for me,” Raven said, falling back on to her pillows.
“Clarke,” she paused, “left early this morning. She shows up now, walking with that lacrosse girl again.”
“Not this again.”
“Ohmygod,” Octavia said, eyes widening.
“What.”
“Ohmygod.”
“What?”
“Clarke just kissed her,” Octavia said. “On the cheek, but what the fuc--”
“What?!” Raven scrambled out of bed to look out the window. “Woah...” she said. “You weren't lying.”
“Ohmygod she's coming inside.” Octavia jumped off of Raven's bed, scrambling to the door. “Pretend you didn't see anything.”
Raven sighed and shook her head. “Like you're going to.” Octavia was terrible at keeping secrets.
Octavia heard Clarke open the door downstairs. She collected herself, then exited her room, trying to keep her excitement in check.
“Hello?” she said, heading downstairs, as if she had no clue who was coming in the door.
“Hey O,” Clarke said. She was smiling from ear to ear. A genuine smile. Even her eyes were smiling.
“You were gone early,” Octavia said as casually as possible.
“I went out for coffee,” Clarke explained.
“By yourself?” Octavia said. Keep it casual...
Clarke raised one eyebrow but didn't stop smiling. “Of course not.”
Octavia was trying so, so hard, but she couldn't stop herself. “With who, then?”
“Jesus H, Octavia Blake,” Clarke laughed. “Can't a girl have an inch of privacy?”
“Coffee date? With the lacrosse player?!” Octavia sat on the stairs, sighing in exasperation.
“You're dating one,” Clarke said coyly.
“Yeah, but I'm not you, Clarke,” Octavia said.
“What do you mean by that?” Clarke said, losing her good humor fast.
“I mean,” Octavia boosted herself up off the stairs and walked down to meet Clarke. “You're fragile. You're not in a good place. And you're supposed to be straight.”
Clarke was silent, staring at her best friend with narrowed eyes. “Hm.”
(It was upon hearing this interaction that Raven stopped what she was doing and decided to crawl back into bed.)
“Wow.”
“Sorry,” Octavia said, not sounding sorry at all. “But it's the truth. I'm just worried about you. I don't want you to get hurt.”
Clarke shook her head. “Octavia, you don't get it.”
“Explain it to me then,” Octavia said. “because now it looks like you're about to do something you'll regret, just as a rebound.”
“Fine. It's not romantic, first of all.”
“Looked like it.” Octavia pursed her lips.
"Spying? Low,” Clarke said, but brushed it off. What did she expect? Octavia was nosy. “A lot of friends kiss on the cheek.”
“Not total strangers. Continue.”
“Second of all, we have a lot in common.”
“Like what?” Octavia scoffed. “It can't be your love of sports.”
“I don't owe you an explanation for anything,” Clarke said hotly. “Can't you just accept that I'm making a friend?”
“She's in love with you, Clarke!” Octavia said, exasperatedly. “Why can't you see that?”
“That's ridiculous,” Clarke stammered. “We don't even know each other.”
“Fine, then, she has a crush. It's totally obvious.”
“How do you know?”
“She looks at you like the sun shines out of your ass,” Octavia said. “Total heart eyes.”
Clarke was silent, remembering. Yeah... yeah... I can see that...
“You're leading her on,” Octavia continued. “I don't really care about her, but I don't want to see you get hurt. Because she's going to get attached real quick. And you're going to hate yourself for hurting her.”
She makes me feel so... light, thought Clarke, although she didn't voice this to Octavia. I felt happier with her after one morning than I have in months. But Octavia was determined to be right, so she chose her words carefully.
“I'll be careful, O,” Clarke said. “I promise.”
Octavia wasn't convinced. But Clarke did look happy. Her eyes were clear and even now, a soft smile rested on her lips. Octavia hoped that that would never go away.
##
“What the hell?” Anya said as soon as Lexa crossed the threshold of the door. “What the hell was that?”
Lexa shrugged, face conveying nothing. She was practiced at this. Years of steeling herself in front of her parents had done her a favor in the end.
Anya was having none of it. “Alexandra,” she said sternly, sounding remarkably like Lexa's own mother. “What the hell.”
“Coffee date,” she said simply. Don't make this a thing... please don't make this a thing....
Anya searched her eyes, scrutinizing, looking for a light, a shadow, any type of weakness. She found one.
“You're smiling,” she said, breaking into a grin.
“Damn you,” Lexa said, but she grinned too, somewhat sheepishly.
“I've known you way too closely for three years,” Anya said. “You can't hide this shit from me. But the blonde across the street? Really?”
“We get along,” Lexa said, setting her stuff down beside Anya. “She's...” Lexa hesitated, unsure if she should tell Anya everything. But Anya had seen her at her best and worst. She had been the only one there for Lexa after Costia's death. “She's going through a lot of the same stuff I went through.”
“That's a stroke of fate,” Anya said. “You dealing okay?”
“It's not a burden,” Lexa said. “It actually is putting things in perspective.”
Anya nodded, then shook her head. “Wait, is she even gay?”
Lexa gave a half-hearted laugh. “Not that I'm aware of. Although...” she cocked her head to the side. “She sent me off with a kiss and an oddly sensual party invitation.”
“Be careful,” Anya warned. “I don't want some straight girl leading you on simply to experiment on you.”
Lexa shook her head. “Thanks, but regardless, I wouldn't mind. We could be good for each other. As friends,” she clarified. “Just friends.”
“You going to go to that party?” Anya said.
"Sure,” Lexa said. “You want to go?”
“I don't think they would want me there,” Anya laughed. “I'm a thief.”
##
Lexa heard the music coming from Clarke's house before it even got dark out. The kids go hard. But she waited until she saw a few small groups enter the house before she thought about going over. She hadn't gone out in so long, she didn't know what to wear.
Black? Black. You couldn't go wrong with black. Long sleeved? No, it would probably be hot. Should she wing her eyeliner? Yes. Of course. Always wing it. And for once, she left her hair unbraided, save for a small one tucked behind her left ear. Costia had woven it years ago. She twirled it between her fingers and smiled softly. I hope you know I'll love you always. And for the time being, she laid thoughts of Costia to the side.
“Damn girl,” Anya said upon Lexa's entrance to her room.
“It's not too much?” Lexa was oddly self-conscious. This would be her first house party in years, and she really wanted to impress Clarke, as dumb as that was.
“I'm about to sleep with you,” Anya said, “except not actually because that would be exceptionally weird.”
“That's not really the goal...” Lexa mumbled, blushing.
“Child,” Anya said. “I'm sorry. I'm sure no one will want to sleep with you,” she corrected. “Kidding. You look fine. Really. Go have fun.”
Lexa jogged down the stairs, pausing in the kitchen. “Anya?” she yelled up. “Can I have a shot?”
She heard Anya laugh. “You can have the whole damn bottle.”
Lexa eyed the bottle of whiskey cautiously. She didn't really drink. She didn't have time to party, and alcohol in general didn't appeal to her. She couldn't remember the last time she was drunk, even when she used to party with Costia's friends.
But the notion of being sober around everyone over there was not appealing in the slightest. She poured herself a shot, taking it in two gulps like a wimp, grimacing and coughing at the burn. She had to admit though, the warmth she felt in her chest was quite pleasant. Liquid courage. Perhaps she would need it.
She poured herself another shot.
##
Clarke checked her phone for what seemed like the 80th time that hour.
“Chill,” Raven said. “And join the party. You're killing the vibe.”
“I'm waiting for someone,” Clarke said. She knew she should drink. She should not be sober when everyone else around her was getting wasted or stoned. She would be so less tolerant of them.
“Suit yourself,” Raven said, pulling a bottle of Svedka from seemingly nowhere and pouring Clarke a shot into a red solo shot cup. “But please at least for your own sake, have a shot.” She handed Clarke the little cup. “The cups are adorable and the alcohol is shitty.”
Clarke laughed and took the shot. It burned, but for her pride, Clarke did not pull a face. Delightful.
“Also,” Raven put a hand on her shoulder and leaned in to talk over the music. “You seem to be doing well. I know Octavia is worried about you, but honestly, I'm just glad to see you smile again. Like,” she nudged Clarke's shoulder affectionately. “a real smile.”
Clarke gave Raven a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”
“Now par-tay, girl!” Raven said, dancing away. “I'm bout to put on something ridiculous!”
Clarke laughed and put her phone away. Even if Lexa didn't come, she could at least have a good time.
##
Lexa could hear the music from across the street. Huge amounts of bass. How have the neighbors not called the cops? Lexa debated even going. If she were caught at a party and written up, her parents might literally kill her. You're 21. Just go. Stop psyching yourself out.
She paused again at the porch, finger hovering over the doorbell. Don't ring it, you idiot, nobody would even hear you.
She decided to text Clarke.
Lexa
9:45 PM
Hey. Should I just come in?
She decided to wait a minute before just walking in. So she stood on the porch, trying to decipher the song playing.
All day... All night...
She was glad for the two shots she had decided to take.
When I came to Spain and I saw people partying
I thought to myself
what the fuck?
She could feel her head starting to swim. The nervousness that had been present earlier was vanishing at a rapid pace.
I couldn't believe what I was living
so I call my friend Johnny
and I say to him,
Johnny,
And what the hell is this song? Who in their right mind picked this?
La gente esta muy loca
Clarke opened the door.
What the fuck?
“Lexa!” Clarke's entire face lit up. Lexa's nervousness reappeared. “I'm glad you made it!”
She gestured that Lexa should come inside. “I didn't mean to keep you waiting outside,” Clarke half-yelled over the volume.
“I wasn't there very long,” Lexa said, “Also, I brought...” she rummaged in her purse, pulling out the whiskey bottle she took from Anya.
“Ooh!” Clarke grinned. “Kitchen!”
She took Lexa by the hand and led her through the living room, to the kitchen in the back of the house. Lexa glimpsed people on the couch amidst a haze of smoke that she could only assume was weed. Another group of people was dancing in the middle of the floor, and a small number of people were shouting at eachother over a card game.
“It's not even 10:00!” Clarke giggled as she stumbled into the kitchen. “This escalated real quickly.”
“Are you drunk?” Lexa asked.
“Not even a bit,” Clarke said, proudly. “Simply clumsy. Are you?”
“I had two shots,” she said a little sheepishly.
“Pregamer. Me gusta.” Clarke elbowed Lexa, winking.
“I don't usually drink...” Lexa said as Clarke poured four shots.
Clarke put down the bottle of whisky to stare at Lexa. “Oh we gonna have a gooood time with this.”
“You're totally drunk,” Lexa said as Clarke handed her the first shot cup.
“Then get on my level.” Clarke's eyes were bright, daring Lexa to lighten up.
Lexa shrugged and took the shot, taking the whole thing in one this time. She couldn't help but cough.
“Eyyy!” Clarke yelled. “Very good. Another?”
“What the fuck...” Lexa muttered.
“You won't have to take another drink the rest of the night. Promise.” Clarke laughed. “You won't need to.”
The last shot was some kind of weird shit of Clarke's. It was awful.
“Dear god..” On cue, Clarke handed her a chaser. Lemonade. Nice.
Raven stumbled into the kitchen. “Oh,” she said in surprise. “Hello neighbor.”
Clarke giggled. “Raven, this is Lexa. Lexa, this is my lovely roommate Raven.”
“Nice to meet you,” Lexa extended her hand. She was far too formal for the party, she knew, but she didn't know what else to do.
Luckily Raven was drunk. “Dude,” she said, shaking Lexa's hand. “I'm sorry for snapping at you.”
Clarke couldn't contain her laughter. She was glad that the alcohol hadn't quite hit Lexa yet. At least one of them would remember the exchange.
“It's okay,” Lexa said. “Sorry for stealing your chairs.”
“No but that's the thing!” Raven was still shaking Lexa's hand. “I don't really give a shit about the chairs! And I shouldn't have been mean to you.”
“Really, it's okay...”
“Lexa!” Raven leaned in closely. “Come here.” She threw her arm around the girl's shoulder, turning her away from Clarke. “You make... you make Clarke really happy. She's, like, so happy when she talks to you.”
Lexa didn't know what to say. She compromised by blushing.
“Before you, she was in a really bad place. You helped her. Dude. Thank you.”
Lexa nodded, a little stunned.
“Now go dance, bitches!” Raven threw herself off of Lexa's shoulders and skipped into the other room to bump up the volume.
Clarke was still giggling. “Shall we?” Her fake posh accent was terrible.
Lexa was not very up on pop music, but apparently everyone else in the room was. A new song had come on and they were all jumping and shouting the lyrics.
We were victims of the night,
The chemical, physical, kryptonite
Even the stoners on the couch were singing along.
Helpless to the bass and the fading light
Oh, we were bound to get together
Everything was so loud. Clarke was laughing, standing at the edge of the room, watching everyone dance. She was starting to move to the music, arms beginning to drift above her head, hips beginning to sway. Lexa was completely star struck.
And Clarke was mouthing something at Lexa, staring her in the eyes, pulling her with her gaze in towards her. It took Lexa a moment before she noticed that Clarke was mouthing the lyrics to the song. They sounded more like a request than a sing-a-long.
“I don't dance,” Lexa tried to communicate over the volume of the music, but she was unsucessful. Or maybe Clarke did hear her, she just ignored her. Clarke shook her head and yelled once again in time to the music.
“ Shut up and dance with me!”
And Lexa found herself in the middle of the dance floor, dancing – she guessed, she couldn't really process what she was doing – alongside Clarke. A smile crept over her face. She knew she must look ridiculous. But one look at Clarke's face told her it didn't matter to her.
Lexa was unsure if the song was the shortest song she had ever heard or the longest, only that between the alcohol and Clarke's mesmerizing dancing, time passed in a nondescript blur. The song was over, and Clarke was grabbing her by the arm, laughing hysterically, falling into her. And Lexa was falling right back.
They danced for a few more songs, each song brought them closer and closer together physically. Clarke really was quite the dancer. Lexa found that she wasn't bad either, perhaps a little stiff, but Clarke didn't seem to mind. The girl's hands drifted over Lexa's body as much as she dared them to in front of a group of people. Even still, Lexa had to wonder what Clarke's friends would think of all of this.
This is definitely not platonic.
The alcohol made her not care.
Finally, Clarke seemed to be winding down. Laughing, she pulled Lexa by the arm out of the dancing group and up to the stairs. “Come on,” she said. “I have to sit down. The world is spinning.”
They made their way upstairs to Clarke's room. The world was indeed, spinning. Clarke flopped down on her back, sprawled out on her bed. “Aah,” she said, shutting her eyes. “Lexa help.”
“I'm not much use,” Lexa said, leaning up against Clarke's wall. “I'm totally drunk.”
“Shut the door and get over here,” Clarke said, patting the bed beside her.
Lexa did so and sat on the bed, only sitting briefly before Clarke pulled her down.
“I can't help you,” Lexa said, laughing as Clarke descended into a fit of giggles. “My world is spinning too.”
“You're a lightweight,” Clarke teased.
“So are you,” Lexa defended.
“Girl,” Clarke propped herself up on her elbow, turning to face Lexa. “I”ve been drinking since 4 pm.”
“That's just....” Lexa lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. “That's just impressive.”
“The word you're looking for is 'sad.'”
Lexa could feel her head beginning to clear. She closed her eyes, taking in the moment before she became too sober to be comfortable.
“Tired?” Clarke said. She tried to get her voice to sound more serious, but was too drunk to be successful.
“Just peaceful.” Lexa said.
“Fuck...” Clarke said, curling up on her side. “Why am I so dizzy?”
Lexa didn't really know what to do for her, but something – probably the whiskey – prompted her to prop herself against the wall and stroke Clarke's hair.
Clarke murmured something nondescript and scooted herself to snuggle into Lexa's side, her head resting on Lexa's chest. Lexa rubbed Clarke's back in an effort to distract her from the spins.
“Lexa?” Clarke said quietly. Her voice was muffled.
“Hm?”
“Is is true that you have a crush on me?”
Were Lexa not drunk the question would have phased her more than a little bit. “Where did you get that idea?”
“My housemates,” Clarke said. “If it's stupid, just forget I said it.”
Lexa laughed lightly. “Well they're not wrong.”
Clarke was silent.
“I think you're really beautiful. And you're so kind. And you make me feel.. normal at last.” Maybe that was too much. Maybe Clarke didn't really want her to say anything.
“I never really thought..” Clarke said, trying to piece together words. “I mean, I always dated guys. But like,” she laughed. “Damn, you're so pretty.”
Lexa laughed in relief.
“And you understand me.” Clarke's face was still turned away from Lexa. Perhaps that was intentional. Her voice seemed suddenly thick with emotion. “And with you I feel.. normal. Or I'm starting to. I don't know...”
“I get it,” Lexa said simply. The pair lapsed into silence, Lexa stroking Clarke's back gently.
Slowly, as the sickness passed, Clarke uncurled herself and burrowed into Lexa's neck instead.
Lexa placed a kiss on the top of Clarke's head, hesitantly. When Clarke did not protest, she placed another one, gently, softly. And another one on Clarke's forehead. Clarke's hand was draped across her stomach, and Clarke looked up at Lexa, her eyes soft and her smile softer. Lexa found herself melting. She just smiled back, kissing Clarke's ear, her cheeks, her nose.
But not her lips. That would cross a line. And Clarke never explicitly said--
Lexa had gone to kiss Clarke's cheek and Clarke had met her half way. Their lips met in an unforeseen kiss, not careful, but gentle, as they explored eachother cautiously but intently.
“Wow,” Clarke murmured between teeth. “So that's how that goes.”
Lexa closed her eyes. Experimenting. Of course. This is how this shit goes. Alcohol, straight girls, and--
Clarke kissed her again.
And again.
Eventually, the pair drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms, falling asleep to the quieting music downstairs. Somebody had switched it to reggae. The stoners.
And for Lexa, this was something that felt right. It wasn't Costia, but it wasn't wrong either.
Lexa thought that Clarke had gone to sleep, and perhaps she had been, but Clarke woke briefly to seek Lexa's eyes. “Just because I loved him, doesn't mean I can't ever love anyone else ever again. Right?”
Lexa found this to be impressively profound for a sleepy, drunk person, and insanely relevant. “I think so.”
Clarke gave her a tired smile and kissed her once again.
##
The next morning, Lexa woke only moments before Clarke. The blonde looked so peaceful in her arms, but Lexa couldn't help but be nervous. Had she overstepped her bounds last night? Was it just an experiment?
Clarke woke before the unknown could scare Lexa away from her side and out her door. “Morning,” she said, her voice scratchy. “Ow.” She stretched, curling away from Lexa briefly before settling back in. She closed her eyes again.
Lexa waited with bated breath. Please don't hate me. I'll leave and never speak to you again if you want, just don't hate me.
Clarke laughed, a quiet giggle that came out more of a sleepy hum. It was totally adorable. Lexa decided that it was not a laugh of hate. “That was fun,” Clarke said.
Clarke looked up in concern when she did not hear a response. Lexa was smiling like an idiot. Clarke kissed her again, desperately, almost frantically. Lexa gladly obliged.
“Thank god,” Clarke said.
“Not a fluke?”
Clarke's second kiss was her answer. “Do you want to get coffee?” Clarke asked once they broke apart.
Lexa grinned. “I'm never opposed to coffee.”
Clarke sighed, sounding utterly happy. She burrowed back into Lexa's arms.
“Lexa?”
“Hm?”
“Can this be the start of something?” Clarke said, face burrowed to hide a blush. “It doesn't have to be official or formal or anything, just... something.”
Lexa knew how big of a step this was for Clarke. A step that she had been so afraid of taking until a few days ago. Clarke is stronger than me. Braver. She pressed her lips to Clarke's forehead. “I don't have a problem with that.”
Clarke smiled. “I don't have a problem with that either.”