Chapter Text
Some secrets are not meant to be kept, they demand audiences, and some secrets are too beautiful to hide.
Clarke Griffin walks into Gallery 2149, wavy blonde hair only half tamed in a messy bun, carrying the last of her paintings to be hung for her first big solo art show. Sunlight shines through the floor to ceiling windows along the front of the gallery that look out on the busy downtown mainstreet. Temporary three quarter walls divide the space, breaking up the expanse of concrete floor into a horseshoe shape around the gallery edge. Her friends are at the center of it, their laughter and conversation echoing off the high ceiling.
It’s been a long morning but the bulk of the work is done, the largest pieces are on the walls, and all that are left are these last three paintings in her arms. She stops short at the sight in front of her because despite the nerves eating at her insides; this is perfect. Right now she doesn’t have to worry about being anything but herself and her heart is full to bursting because today is more than she ever dreamed it could be. After years of organizing countless gallery openings and being the one who fills up the empty corners of the room she finally has her own solo show.
Tonight is all about her art, and everyone that matters is here. It’s as perfect as it can be. The excitement is intoxicating and heady, and none of it would be happening without everyone else in this room. Most importantly, it wouldn’t be happening without her three girlfriends; her secret, which isn’t as much of a secret anymore, thanks to an accidental outing at their holiday party last December. At least Octavia’s brother had only made a scene in front of their friends, Bellamy had at least kept the spectacle out of the public eye.
Clarke watches from the edge of the gallery floor. Her mother and Anya are cleaning up packing materials littering the center of the gallery space. It’s like trying to clean up on Christmas morning with a pack of children tearing into presents. Abby ties off another garbage bag and tosses it into the pile. Jasper and Lincoln are sipping on water, lounging on the benches that run down the center of the horseshoe as they wait for another wave of instructions, though their job for the day is mostly finished.
Raven is leaning back against Lexa as she explains what their plan looks like for the last wall of paintings. Lexa's hand rests on Raven’s hip as her eyes follow Raven’s gestures, tracing the shape and substance of the plan in the air, pointing to key spots and explaining the complexities. They’re relaxed into each other, and sometimes Lexa watches Raven more than the explanation, a soft smile on her lips.
Clarke’s fingers itch for a pencil and a sketchpad.
Octavia interrupts Raven with a light kiss on her cheek, “What’s next?”
Raven leans back against Lexa, dark brown ponytail spilling over Lexa’s shoulder, mixing with Lexa’s lighter curls. Raven turns to look at Octavia, taking in the sight of her, tiny denim shorts and an oversized black t-shirt that long ago lost its sleeves to a pair of scissors at two in the morning. Octavia pushes a thin line of sweat on her forehead. Even in the air conditioned gallery space they can’t escape the July heat because Kane refuses to turn the units up any higher until they get closer to the show tonight.
Raven fans herself with the paper she’s been sketching notes on all morning, “I need to see what Clarke has for the last wall, I can’t remember which series she decided to finish.”
“I think it’s the trio of dancers,” Lexa steals the water bottle from Octavia’s hands and drinks half it down.
“Is that the-”
“-the one she drug me out of bed at three in the morning to pose for?” Lexa laughs. “Yes.”
“Oh good, that’s easier to hang than the other series.” Raven takes the water bottle from Lexa and finishes it off, drawing an exaggerated eye roll from Octavia. “Would you see what’s taking Clarke so long to get back here with the paintings?”
Clarke shifts the trio of canvases in her arms and sighs. “I’m back,” She calls out as she crosses the last few steps into the center of the gallery.
The images on canvas are seared into her mind, so even though right now the paintings are wrapped in brown wrapping paper, she can still see them clearly: Lexa, the curve of her neck, her back, her leg, three separate paintings, but all together they are one. She doesn’t want to let these ones go, but she knows tonight will be worth it.
They just have to get there. It’s a tight turn around from set up to opening the doors and popping the champagne and it all has to be perfect.
Every detail has been planned out to the flowers on the catering tables, white orchids, and the double sided tape she’ll need to keep the suit Lexa’s sister had picked out for her in place after her first glass of champagne. She had joked about hiding a flask of whiskey in the pocket of her suit jacket until Anya had gone off about lines and threatened to sew the pockets shut. Lexa had gently reminded her that maybe being drunk at her first big solo show wouldn't garner the kind of press she wanted. Octavia had chimed in with how perhaps that was exactly how the night should end, and aren’t artists supposed to be eccentric? Raven had later shown her a garter belt she was going to wear that could carry a slim flask.
They all made incredibly compelling arguments.
Clarke wishes she could just keep all of them by her side all night, but they’re in the closet. It’s one thing to be openly queer, it’s another entirely to be openly polyamorous. Being public figures makes their lives complex in ways they hadn’t anticipated. At first emerging from the metaphorical closet might lose Clarke a few patrons, but long term being seen as eccentric would probably earn her more money. Art scenes are weird like that. The others don’t have that luxury, for everyone else it could burn their career down overnight.
Lexa oversees cases that make the news often enough on their own, without her own life getting thrown into the mix. Raven works at the university teaching aerospace engineering and has to face a wall of bigotry from the older white male staff on a daily basis as it is. Octavia has always been an easy target at work, being slight and female and openly bisexual. One wrong move in front of the wrong person could make an already tenuous situation worse for any one of them. Then again, maybe people are better than that.
They don’t risk it though, as far as the rest of the world knows no one outside their ever growing inner circle knows. If they aren’t careful, soon there won’t be an inner circle. The more public their jobs make them the harder it gets to keep their relationship private and it’s only a matter of time before the secret spills out. It's easier to masquerade as roommates and close friends that act as dates on important nights, that meet for drinks after work, that sometimes rent out private back rooms at restaurants, and evade questions about their personal lives.
It’s messy and complicated and some nights it hurts, but it’s safer this way.
And they have their moments like this one when they can just be, when they’re surrounded by the people they trust. There’s no sidestepping around answers or evading topics. There’s no having to remember how they’re allowed to touch. Or questioning their own actions and impulses.
Second guessing her own actions has become second nature.
Octavia moves from Lexa and Raven to Clarke. She can see the line of worry splitting Clarke’s brow and she wraps her arms around Clarke’s waist, her head resting in the hollow between Clarke’s neck and shoulder, arms wrapped around Clarke’s waist, palms splayed flat against her back. Clarke relaxes into her arms, their frames shifting and folding together with an intimate familiarity. Octavia nuzzles against Clarke’s neck and breathes in her lavender perfume– the same one she’s been wearing since she turned sixteen.
“You have that face.”
“Clearly, Octavia, this is my face.”
Octavia rolls her eyes as she pulls back, poking Clarke in the side and causing her to squirm away in laughter. “You know what I mean.”
Clarke presses a quick kiss to Octavia’s lips, “I’m fine, O. Really. You’re all here and we’re almost done so we can go home and get ready.”
“And eat. I’m starving.”
“Yes, that too.”
“Speaking of getting ready, what’s the plan tonight?” Abby looks up from where she’s meticulously folding the crumpled pile of brown wrapping paper.
Octavia tosses a ball of wrapping paper and tape to Abby, “Clarke is taking Lexa. I’m taking Raven.”
“Lexa’s a more impressive date than either of us.” Octavia adds by way of explanation. “And tonight is important.” She smiles up at Clarke, but there’s a hint of sadness in her eyes.
Clarke nudges Octavia with her foot, “I’d be proud to have any of you on my arm.”
Anya chokes back a gag and Lexa elbows her in the side even though she can see the laughter in her foster sister’s eyes. Anya’s known about them the longest, present for the entire saga that led to the four of them together.
There’s a thud and the front door swings open as the gallery owner, Marcus Kane, backs into the shop hands full of boxes obscuring his vision. Lexa takes a step back from Raven, nudging Anya to help her with a painting. Raven gestures for Jasper to grab a hammer and starts talking to him about where she needs nails and how deep. Clarke kneels on the ground to start unwrapping the paintings she just brought in, and Octavia rushes over to Kane to help him with the boxes he’s carrying. The separation is like an explosion, a rift between them. The space, once safe, is no longer, and they have to take precautions.
It’s too much of a risk.
They’ve gotten good at this, going through their public lives like none of them are dating. No holding hands, no kisses on cheeks. Instead always measuring their reactions wondering if what they do can be read as more than friendship, especially Octavia, her impulse control is the worst, but then again, without her they wouldn’t be together.
It’s a balancing act.
“It’s almost looking like a real art gallery in here,” Kane jokes, breaking the moment of silence as he sets the boxes down on the buffet tables along the front windows. A chorus of hellos sound.
“It’s almost like you invited a real artist,” Octavia jokes, turning around to stick her tongue out at Clarke who returns the gesture.
“Help me with this?” Kane asks with a roll of his eyes.
Octavia takes one of the boxes and starts unpacking. It’s the last of the decorations for the night, vases and shiny rocks and little sprigs and things to be arranged by the catering staff. Her stomach rumbles. Hopefully they have time for dinner and she won’t just be trying to survive on hors d’œuvres all night.
She’s done that before; it isn’t fun, not when you’re trying to keep straight who you’re allowed to touch and who you’re allowed to kiss and the alcohol is more plentiful than the food. The alcohol is always in abundance when money and art are being consumed.
“Want to go get that girl of yours for me?” Kane asks as he passes by Octavia, empty boxes in hand.
Octavia’s head snaps up and she can almost feel the color drain from her face. It’s not like she and Clarke hadn’t been together when Clarke started working for Kane, and they’d never officially, publicly broken up, but there’s something in his voice that makes her think he almost said more. She glances back at everyone, knowing he means Clarke, but Clarke isn’t the only one that’s hers.
“Sure thing.”
_______________________________________
Clarke closes the door to Kane’s office behind her as she enters. There had been a look in Octavia’s eyes as she had relayed his message that brought up the worrying feeling from earlier. Their secret is getting too big to keep.
His office is simple, bare of decoration, a desk, a computer, piles of paper, three chairs including his own and the couch they moved in here one time because they needed the floor space and refused to ever try to fit through the door again. Kane doesn’t use the room for anything but essential paperwork, preferring the lounge in the back corner of the gallery for meetings, anything to keep him out of this little closet. Their work is about people and space and art, and all of that happens in the open area they transform for each new show.
“So tonight, which one of…” Kane’s voice trails off and he waves his hand at the gallery, still rifling through papers. “Them are you bringing.”
Clarke’s heart drops into her stomach and she fights down the rising panic. She smiles, trying to channel Lexa’s cool calm exterior that doesn’t betray her, and leans back in the chair, one arm across the back of it so she can lean her head against her hand. Clarke crosses her legs before letting out a small laugh, because at the very least she can play this off as nothing. She’s brought each of them in the past, tonight would be no different.
“Lexa agreed to be on my arm tonight, as a friend, as always. She said it might help me sell a few pieces as several of the clients at the firm have mentioned they were attending tonight.”
“You know you don’t have to bring them as your friends.”
Clarke tenses and her gaze darts to the floor before her eyes can betray the tight panic gripping her. They’ve been careful. So careful. She hates outright denying their relationship, even though in some situations it’s for the best.
She hears Kane shift in his seat waiting for her answer. His voice is low and even like he’s trying his best not to startle her, “I hope you know you can trust me after the two years you’ve worked here. This gallery is a safe space.”
“Of course!” Clarke tears her eyes from the floor and looks back to Kane, “What makes you think I have anyone to bring as more than a friend.”
What she doesn’t expect is a slight reddening of her boss’ cheeks, or the way he averts his gaze. “Abby let something slip over drinks the other night.”
“Oh- oh. ” Clarke looks away because all she can think about is why Kane and her mother were getting drinks together, and she really doesn’t want that image in her head.
Awkward silence stretches between them because they both know more than they should know about each other’s personal lives. Clarke’s head spins. Kane took her mother on a date, and her mother hadn’t said anything about it yet. Or that she accidently spilled the only secret Clarke has asked her to keep. The only one that really mattered. That would have to be dealt with later.
“Well, whatever my mother may or may not have said, if you could not repeat it to anyone we would appreciate that.” Clarke stands up and turns to leave, she needs to get out of this office before he says it outright, before she’s knows without a doubt that he knows she’s in a polyamorous relationship she’s been working hard to keep a secret. She needs air. She needs to breathe. “Unless there is anything else?’
Kane shakes his head, but he’s smiling, “No, Clarke. Just, they’re lovely, and I meant what I said. It’s safe here. You’re safe here. I understand tonight is stressful, and this is your biggest show yet, but I wouldn’t have given you the show unless I thought you could sell it. The number of RSVPs we have is impressive.”
Clarke nods, not sure if that makes her feel better or not about Kane knowing about the nature of her relationship. “I’m sure then, you understand our need for discretion?”
“I can see why you want it, if not for yourself, then, for them. Whenever the public becomes involved things can sway in unanticipated directions.”
“Even when the public isn’t involved,” Clarke mutters half to herself.
Kane chuckles. “Don’t be too hard on Abby. I plied her with wine and leading questions.”
“Right,” Clarke stands suddenly not wanting to hear anymore and not certain of where this conversation will end up. “If that’s all,” Clarke nearly trips over the chair she was just sitting in as she bolts out of Kane’s office. Their carefully constructed charade is starting to unravel.
_______________________________________
“You know, I never heard how the four of you ended up together,” Jasper glances down at Raven who is handing him nails while he hammers them into the lines she had him draw earlier.
“Are you certain those lines are straight, Jasper?” Raven cocks her head to the side.
“Straighter than half the people in this room,” Jasper mumbles.
“Excuse you?”
Jasper grabs the next nail from Raven and turns back to the wall, “Nothing, prof.”
Raven smacks Jasper’s leg, “Check them again before you start hanging the paintings.”
“What is this, class?”
Lincoln picks up the laser level with a silent laugh and hands it to Jasper. “It’s more important than that. This is your first art show, you’ll learn.”
“Don’t scare Raven’s minion. He doesn’t have his other half with him,” Octavia teases. “Where is Monty anyway?”
“He’s got to keep an eye on the lab today, make sure the undergrads don’t blow anything up.”
“That’s actually a risk,” Raven deadpans and glances up at Jasper.
She watches him stammer for a moment, fear flashing across his face, as his attention turns to her prosthetic. Raven lost half her leg in a lab explosion in her third year of grad school, some idiot undergrad punctured an oxygen tank sending it rocketing across the lab and shattering her knee. She’s wearing shorts today and the resulting reality is hard to miss. Raven laughs, “I’m joking, Jasper. Mostly anyway… but calm down, dude.”
Jasper nods rapidly and turns back to checking to make sure his lines are level. There’s a shift around the room as Abby and Anya return from their trip to take out the trash and recycling. The gallery is almost clean and they’re that much closer to being done with the set up. Octavia helps Lincoln hand the first painting to Jasper. He takes it carefully, clearly nervous and not wanting to let it drop as he hangs the wire carefully across the nails.
“If I'm giving up my Saturday to hang paintings for my boss’ girlfriend’s art show, I at least want to hear the story behind how the four of you got together. Because if that hadn’t happened I wouldn’t be fearing for my life while I try to help hang a painting worth more than my tuition.”
A mixture of groans and laughter echo throughout the room because many of them were privy to the dramatics of the courtship. It was a long two years before Clarke, Octavia, Lexa, and Raven settled in to each other and their relationship, and it wasn’t without tribulation.
Anya sets down the piece she and Lexa are working on hanging and drapes herself over one of the couches with an exasperated sigh, “Sit down, kid. You're in for a long story.”
“How did it start?” Jasper asks, finally letting go of the painting with what is a clear prayer that it not fall.
Clarke walks back into the center of the gallery, heart still pounding from Kane’s admission. She slides back into the group silently, trying to not look panicked, and trying not to drag her mother off to discuss what are and aren’t appropriate topics of conversation. She lets out a breath and tries to shake some of the tension from her limbs. Raven tries to catch her eye but Clarke isn’t ready for the wordless conversation that follows Raven’s raised eyebrow. Before she can decide what she wants Raven is by her side, wrapping arms around her waist.
She whispers in Clarke’s ear, “Everything okay?”
Clarke nods and smiles, pressing a small kiss to Raven’s cheek. Raven tilts her head to the side, questioning, but not arguing, knowing that normally Clarke would have already found a way to slip out of her arms by now with Kane nearby.
“It starts with Octavia and me nearly breaking up because of Lexa,” Clarke rasps, leaning against Raven.
Lexa rolls her eyes, “Through no fault of my own.”
“You’ve never met you,” Octavia adds defensively.
Jasper climbs down from the ladder and plops into a chair next to Anya, reaching for a bottle of water. “Wait, so you nearly broke them up because you existed?”
“This pretty face cannot be tamed.” Lexa gestures to herself with a laugh, “It’s not my fault O fell head over heels in love with me the first time she saw me.”
“You were an incessant flirt.”
Raven snorts, “Were?” and Lexa smacks her ass with a length of cardboard.
“Me?” Lexa straightens up with mock indignation as she glances over at Octavia, “Do you even remember who seduced whom? And terribly I might add.”
“It worked, didn’t it?” Clarke says with a wry smile.