Chapter Text
Big Sis Anya
You better be here soon bitch
Lexa sighs. Anya is just nervous, she knows that, but still.
Little Lex
I’ll get there when I get there. You’ll be fine without me.
Big Sis Anya
Of course I will.
There’s nothing else and Lexa slips her phone into her coat pocket. Watching out the window she can see that they’re almost at the gala. Her driver made good time as always. Indra used to drive for Lexa’s father. When she saw his name in the obituary section of the paper, Indra was the first person she called.
“We are here.” Indra doesn't take her eyes off the road as she pulls up outside the ornate old building. There’s hordes of photographers and reporters on either side of a red carpet. Lexa doesn’t want to deal with any of them.
“Thank you.” Lexa is grateful in many ways. Loyal to a fault, Lexa knew Indra would never defect from her father while he was alive. Once he was gone, though. Lexa sent her stepmother a chocolate gift basket the same day she offered to double Indra’s previous wage.
Lexa rubs at her temples. It’s been a long day, but there is no way she could miss this event. Above the throngs of photographers and star chasers, the banner proudly welcomes her to the First Annual At-Risk Youth Polis Charity Ball. Her sister has been planning this event for two years. It’s already gotten more coverage for the center and more donations than they’d seen in ten years. Lexa promised to match whatever they raise tonight, and now that she’s here she’s wondering if that was a foolish promise to make. In any case, this night will be spectacular.
The cameras are already flashing; Lexa takes another deep breath. She straightens the lapel on her suit, checks her tie, cufflinks, and the sharp creases of her black pants. She glances into the mirror in the back of Indra’s seat to see her eyes aren’t smudged, and to check her smile isn’t too wooden. With a hand on the door Lexa lets her lips fall into the cocky smirk she’s famous for then steps out onto the red carpet.
The intensity of flashes and shouting increases.
“Miss Woods!”
“Over here!”
“Is your sister blackmailing you for funding?”
“Can you tell us about your new merger with AzgedaCo?”
“Is it true you’re dating Kristen Stewart?”
Lexa ignores them all, makes sure that she’s seen, photographed then disappears through the front doors and into the gala.
//
Clarke is bored. And she’s barely been here an hour. Her mother disappeared forty minutes ago, and Clarke would be sneaking out of the party if she didn’t believe in the cause. Anya Vine’s youth shelter has been doing incredible work, but Clarke knows it’s hard. They need this gala to be successful. They need the money people like her mother can bring, and the exposure their presence ensures.
Wells is useless as always at these events. Without an audience, he’s basically just a lump of a boy. Sure, he’s a grown man with responsibility and shit, but with Clarke in situations where he’s not very comfortable, he’s basically the useless teenage idiot Clarke grew up with.
“I’m getting drinks.” Clarke doesn’t bother asking as she gets up from their table. Her place is marked with her name on a fancy little card so she doesn’t worry about losing it. And Wells won’t be moving anywhere.
The bar in this function room is huge, thirty meters long and lined with gilt chairs. Everything is plush and ostentatious, everything to make the rich assholes feel at home enough to drop cash down like it’s going out of style. Clarke wishes these events could happen at the places that they’re trying to make money for, but knows that’s not how it works.
By the time Clarke reaches the bar, she’s grumbling under her breath about rich fuckers, stupid ugly furniture and goddamn uncomfortable dresses. A light laugh at her elbow makes her realise she was overheard. Peeking left, Clarke sees long hair, a dark expensive suit and clear green eyes surrounded by smoky eye shadow worn like war paint. She blinks.
Lexa Woods is standing next to her. Lexa Woods is looking at her with that cocky smirk that the gossip magazines love to feature. Clarke hates Lexa Woods.
“You know, if you’re uncomfortable in that dress, you don’t have to be wearing it.” Lexa’s smirk doesn’t waiver as Clarke’s mouth drops open.
Is Lexa Woods flirting with – how dare she even – what the fuck? Before Clarke can properly articulate her fury at such a terrible line, the bartender arrives. Lexa orders a scotch on the rocks then looks at Clarke who just glares at her.
“Champaign?” Lexa is cool, confident and obviously used to getting what she wants.
Since the bartender is standing waiting, Clarke doesn’t try to argue. “Two.” Lexa just smiles and nods. “Thanks,” Clarke adds bitterly.
Lexa sets down a fifty dollar note (drink charges are donations just like everything else) and hands Clarke the drinks. Lexa open her mouth as if to say something, but Clarke doesn’t give her a chance, turning and walking back to her table without another word.
Lexa watches her go, smirk faltering as she wonders what on earth she said wrong this time.
“First strikeout of the night.” Anya’s laughing voice brings a real smile to Lexa’s face as her sister appears by her side. Wearing her own suit, though not tailored to the impecable lines Lexa would like for her, Anya’s smirk is fuller and more deadly than Lexa could ever manage.
“Strikeout? I wasn’t trying to—”
“Sure you weren’t Little Lex.” At Lexa’s frown, Anya rolls her eyes. “You told her she didn’t have to be wearing her dress.” Lexa just frowns a little deeper. “As in you could help her take it off?”
“Oh,” Lexa realises. “Oh no. Oh, I didn’t mean that.”
Anya cracks up laughing. “Sure you didn’t.”
“I just meant she could wear something else.” She pulls at her coat as her voice gets higher with embarrassment. “Like us. Dresses are uncomfortable.”
Anya shakes her head. “I should have known that reputation of yours was an accident. You need to remember not everyone is as literal as you.”
Lexa pouts for a moment as Anya laughs before remembering where they are – before remembering who she has to be around all these rich strangers.
“Drink up, little Lex. Maybe you’ll get another chance to sweep blondie Princess off her feet.”
“I wasn’t trying to—”
“Ah huh. Sure you weren’t.”
There’s no point arguing. Lexa pulls her game face back on and downs her scotch. “Okay, who are we trying to schmooze here?”
//
The night goes well, so far as Clarke can tell. She avoids Lexa Woods and manages to dodge any other truly intolerable people wandering around. That is until she walks out onto the wide sweeping balcony to get some fresh air.
It’s a beautiful spring night, a cool breeze bringing jasmine scents across the river. The stars are bright even in the midst of city lights and Clarke sighs as she leans against the balcony rail, glad to be alone.
“Always alone even in a crowd, Clarke?” His voice sends a shiver of distaste up her spine. Finn.
“Is that supposed to be deep, Finn?” He has been trying to charm his way back into her life for months. Too bad for Finn, she sees him for what he is now.
“They do call me a poet.” His smile is confident, two glasses of champaign clasped in one hand.
Clarke huffs a humourless laugh. “The tabloids love a tortured artist.” Clarke sneers out the last words with as much disdain as she can muster. At the same time, she chants in her head He can’t hurt you anymore.
He offers her a glass which she doesn’t accept. “Well, if you won’t.” He downs both glasses of champaign in quick succession. Reaching past Clarke, he sets the glasses down behind her.
Smelling the rich mix of alcohol on his breath, Clarke tries to step away. He doesn’t let her though, bracketing his arms either side of her, trapping her between himself and the stone balustrade. For not the first time around Finn, Clarke feels scared. She tries to remind herself that he’s changed, that he wouldn’t deliberately hurt her. Not anymore. She tries not to think of the last time he was too close, alcohol on his breath. She tries not to think of the way he told her it was her fault – she pushed him too far.
“Finn,” she says his name in a warning tone. “I want you to step away from me.” She’s proud to hear her voice is clear and strong.
Finn looks hurt for a moment, then his expression clears and he smiles. “Is that what you want?” He shifts his hands closer to her, arms brushing her waist. Clarke nods, knowing her voice will have lost its strength to the fear welling up inside her. Finn still moves in, leans closer.
“Step back.” Clarke knows she can’t overpower him, and she doesn’t want to make a scene. She can’t let the stories in the morning be about her, not when the gala is going so well and raising so much money. She can’t cry out now.
Clarke’s heart is racing as her mind goes blank. She tries to remember anything about her self defence classes, about anything she’s been told. If she kicks him in the balls, will it just make him angry? If she headbutts him, will she just hurt herself. If she tries to run in this dress, in these heels will he just catch her, pull her back.
Finn’s lips brush her ear, making her skin crawl under his hot damp breath. “Is that what you need baby?” One of his hands leaves the balustrade and Clarke thinks for a moment that he’ll let her go, that he’s done with his little power game. But then his hand is on her hip.
“Don’t,” she breathes with as much force as she can muster while feeling weak with fear.
Finn ignores her, his hand trailing down her thigh to the edge of her dress. “I know what you need, baby.”
Clarke swallows, knowing that she should cry out, knowing that she should fight. She can’t though. She’s caught – torn between too many conflicting fears, caught hoping that she’s wrong, that Finn won’t do this again. That he’s the better man he promised to be so many times.
He isn’t a better man. His fingers find her bare skin and start creeping up. Clarke closes her eyes. She holds her breath. She waits.
There are footsteps. Sharp, quick footsteps then a voice, clear and powerful. “What is going on here?”
Finn barely moves, keeps his hand on Clarke’s thigh, too far up for decency and turns to address the interruption. “We’re fine.”
The person hesitates and Clarke wants to cry out, wants to shout for this person to help her, but Finn is holding her down, even without his hand over her mouth he’s capable of silencing her. There’s footsteps again and Clarke thinks that the person is walking away, that her chance is lost. Then Lexa Woods is there. Lexa hasn’t taken Finn’s word for it. She walked around him to make eye contact with Clarke.
“Are you okay?” She asks.
Clarke still can’t speak. Finn nods his head back towards the party inside. “We’re fine. And busy. You can go now.”
“I wasn’t talking to you.” Lexa’s snarl is sharp enough to make Finn flinch, his fingers digging into Clarke’s skin. Lexa keeps eye contact with her, calm even gaze enough to pull her some small way back out of Finn’s darkness. “Are you okay, Clarke?”
The sound of her name is the last piece Clarke needs. She’s still afraid, but Lexa’s voice helps her shake her head.
The tiny movement is enough for Lexa. “Let. Her. Go.”
“I said piss off.” Finn is getting angry and Clarke whimpers.
“Let her go now.” Her voice sounds dangerous, almost a promise of pain.
“Or what? What are you gonna do, you trust-fund slut.” Finn starts turning, his attention on Clarke diminishing.
“You don’t want to find out.” Lexa hasn’t moved at all, but she’s standing in a way that makes her look ready for anything. Hands behind her back, she’s the opposite of sloppy drunk Finn.
Finn lurches forward and Clarke nearly screams as Finn swings at Lexa. His fist sails straight through air as she steps sideways.
“This is very stupid, Finn.” Lexa steps out of his range again, making Finn growl with frustrated anger.
“Come on you stupid slut. Stop dancing around.”
Lexa doesn’t quit moving and there’s nothing Clarke can do to stop what’s happening. She wants to tell Finn enough, tell him to give up, go home and sleep it off, but she’s still got that tight coil of fear stopping her voice.
“Clarke.” Lexa looks annoyed at Finn’s attempts to attack her now. “Can I drop this man?”
“Ah,” Clarke doesn’t understand.
“Is he important to you?”
“God no.” Clarke is shocked by the words that come out of her mouth. The fear is dimming. Watching Lexa evade Finn so easily helps Clarke find her confidence against Finn’s bumbling mindless violence.
“Would it upset you if I put him on the ground?”
Clarke thinks she’s joking, but Lexa looks at her with wide honest eyes and Clarke realises she’s being perfectly serious. Lexa can put Finn on the ground, presumably hard enough that he won’t get up again. She wants to say, do it. She wants to say, beat the shit out of him for me, just to see if Lexa will.
Instead, she says, “No. I mean, you can put him down, just don’t hurt him. This night needs to be about the refuge tomorrow. Not his broken nose.”
Lexa stares at her for a second too long. Clarke can’t read the look in her eye and it’s gone too quick as Finn thinks he sees an opening. He’s behind Lexa now and he makes a final lunge to tackle her around the middle, maybe to bring her to the ground.
Lexa doesn’t even need to look at him. She feels him coming, steps out of the way and grabs his wrist. She twists, pulls his arm out away from his body, and lets his momentum do the worst of the damage as he falls to his knees. Finn cries out in pain as Lexa twists his arm harder and grabs a hold of just one of his fingers to bend it back at an unnatural angle.
“I told you to let her go, Finn.”
“Bitch!” He spits hate out with the one word.
Lexa doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even look angry. “If I let you go, will you try to follow her.”
“She’s mine!” He spits out the two words which finally turn Clarke’s fear into anger.
As Lexa twists his hand harder behind his back Clarke comes around to look him in the eye.
“You do not own me.” Clarke weighs her options, makes a decision then swings her foot back and kicks Finn hard in the groin. Lexa lets him go and he collapses to the ground with a long high-pitched whine.
//
Lexa calls security to escort Finn out of the building as soon as she gets inside. Clarke follows along behind her as if scared to be alone. Lexa doesn’t blame her. She hadn’t been sure when she first walked out onto the balcony, what was going on. She didn’t know if they were just fooling around out in the dark. It wasn’t until she saw Clarke’s face that she knew.
Lexa tries to loosen the anger from her shoulders. She wanted nothing more than to knock that peacock asshole to the floor, to beat him until he was little more than a walking bruise. But, she couldn’t do that. She hasn’t spent years training so she can beat people up. She knows what she needs to protect herself and to help keep others from getting hurt.
Lexa watches the crowd, tries to focus on the wonderful parts of tonight, on all the incredible work Anya has done. She tries to focus on the pride she felt for Anya earlier, but then she sees that Clarke is still shaking.
“What can I get you, Clarke?”
Clarke takes a deep breath before replying. “A quiet space would be appreciated.”
Lexa nods. “This way.”
She pushes through the crowd with Clarke beside her. She doesn’t touch Clarke, keeping her hand a safe distance from her lower back, ready to help, guide or catch her if necessary. She can’t imagine Clarke would appreciate a stranger touching her right now though, so she doesn’t.
Finally, they find a dimly lit room off the main function area and Lexa closes the door almost completely shutting out the noise of the gala. It’s a beautiful room, all plush carpets and expensive furniture, but Lexa doesn’t really notice it. She guides Clarke to sit in a high-backed chair and kneels down in front, keeping her eyes below Clarke’s, keeping Clarke in a position of control above her.
“Is this a little better?”
Clarke gives a shaky laugh. “Yeah. Great.” She rolls her eyes then. At Lexa’s confusion, she explains. “You were hitting on me a few hours ago.”
Lexa looks down, fighting against the rising colour in her cheeks. “About that, Clarke. I really—”
“Hang on, how do you know my name?”
Lexa looses the battle against her blush. “After we spoke, I endeavored to find out who you were.”
“So you could try again?”
Lexa frowns. “So that I could get to know you.”
Clarke watches her for a moment before sighing. “I’m sorry, I just— I don’t know how to trust my instincts after Finn. I just kind of assume that everyone wants something from me.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“I am in business, Clarke.” Lexa holds her breath then, waiting for the joke to fall flat. She doesn’t expect Clarke to smile, but she does. And Clarke has a really lovely smile.
Clarke finds she can’t help it. Lexa just has a certain charm. She had been determined not to see it. She’s still sure that Lexa is a player, a liar and yet another trust fund baby that she won’t be able to stand more than ten minutes with, but she’s more ready to give her a chance, now.
“So,” Clarke starts awkwardly. Lexa is still on her knees in front of Clarke, and it’s starting to feel too serious, too much like a proposal. She pats the space next to her on the chair. Lexa doesn’t take it though. She stands instead.
“I would like to take you home, Clarke.”
Clarke looks shocked, then angry and she’s about to start yelling when Lexa realises her mistake and holds up her hands.
“Not like that. I just mean to help you get home safe. Nothing else.” She scratches the back of her head with one hand, the other hand on her hip. She looks like a junior high kid trying to ask her crush on a date. It’s so awkward that Clarke’s anger fades.
She would like to go home. She would also like to slip out without being noticed. That can’t happen if she leaves out the front door with Lexa ‘Rising Star’ Woods by her side. God, she could only imagine what the gossip sites would say about the two of them getting into Lexa’s car together.
Lexa must see the hesitation, and understand it. “I can make sure no one sees us leave.”
Clarke bites back a smile. “At some point, you will say something to me that couldn’t be taken as a proposition or a threat, Miss Woods.”
Lexa sighs at her own awkwardness. “Please, call me Lexa.”