#kpprompts

[kpforpresident]

What if Clarke accidentally kills one of Lexa's plants that she asked her to take care of while she was away? Clarke replaces it with a lookalike but Lexa knows something is off

Lexa, armed with a spray bottle and a glass of her favourite six dollar Trader Joes red, wanders absently through the apartment that her and Clarke have shared for the past year as she hums quietly along with the radio that plays faintly in the kitchen as Clarke bangs around making them dinner. Lexa had winced slightly as she was shooed gently from the kitchen by a slightly manic-eyed Clarke, deciding to not point out the smear of pesto that marred one perfect pink cheek.

She picks up the slender silver watering can from its home on the mantle as she gently tips the spout into the base of that same Thai Constellation Monstera that had brought them together a few years ago, smiling slightly as the semi-dry soil soaked up the clear waterfall like a thirsty sponge. Lexa had flown out to the west coast at the last minute over the weekend to meet Anya and Raven's newest little one, a bright eyed little girl with a singular tuft of midnight hair and the most beautiful rosebud mouth that Lexa had ever laid eyes upon. She was named Jo after their favorite character from their beloved Louisa May Alcott book, and she had completely and utterly twined Lexa around a perfect little finger within the first minutes of meeting.

Lexa smiles softly as she remembers how Jo had slept on her shoulder as Raven and Anya had chatted softly in the background, eyes tired but alight with the soft kind of contented love that only parenthood could bring.

Burnt orange light bathes their living room as the sun quietly sinks below the skyline, casting burnished golden shadows over everything. Lexa continues to sip from her crystalline glass and tent to the plants she knows that Clarke most likely nervously avoided with all of her might while Lexa was away.

Her fingers brush over the fern that slumps on the small stool next to her favorite reading chair, the slouchy green velvet an idea place to curl up on a rainy morning with a cup of tea and a novel.

She's halfway across the room to dump the remainder of the water onto the fiddle fig that stand sentry by the doorway when a thoughtful crease mars her forehead as Lexa slowly retraces her steps to cast another thoughtful eye across the leafy green fern.

"Love?" Lexa calls as she wanders her way back across the worn hardware floors, battered wood gleaming slightly in the dying light of the lazy Saturday.

Clarke hummed an affirmative as a golden halo of hair popped out of the kitchen door, eyes lighting up as she glided forward to press a soft kiss to Lexa's wine flushed cheek. Lexa leaned into the small act of love as she moved around the counter to perch on a barstool so as to not get into the way of the culinary hurricane that was Clarke making homemade pasta.

"Clarke?"

Clarke looks up with a quicksilver smile as she tosses the pasta into the battered pot at the back of their small stove, stirring as she deftly sprinkles a pinch of salt into the merrily burbling water.

"Lexa?" Clarke chirps back, obediently moving away from the stove to focus on Lexa. Clarke scoops her wine glass off the counter as she enters Lexa's orbit, cradling the pale liquid in one hand as she brushes errant hairs out of her field of vision with the other.

"Why is the fern in the living room different, Clarke?"

Lexa watches with faint amusement as her words sink into Clarke, sees her process as a faint flush steals across already reddened cheeks, her fingers twitch around her wine glass as she flounders slightly. Because Lexa knows Clarke and her infinite roladex of facial expressions by heart, Lexa can also tell when Clarke decides to go with honesty as a faint pout shadows her bottom lip.

"I'm sorry Lex, I tried," Clarke beseeches as she spreads the fingers on her free hand placatingly, a small poof of flour flying off of her person as she practically vibrates with the energy of someone newly condemned. "The damn thing just crisped immediately when you left, and I know you said that one in particular is picky, and I couldn't do anything to revive that silly little fringe plant, so I went to Indra and-"

Lexa, whose eyebrows had been climbing higher and higher on her forehead throughout Clarke's impassioned speech, holds up a finger to cut off her harried lover before steam can begin to spout from Clarke's ears.

"Clarke, it's fine, it's just a maidenhair fern," Lexa soothes as she reaches across the bar to grab a flailing limb, smoothing her thumb across Clarke's hand as she feels her girlfriend's entire body relax at her touch.

"I- well- ok," Clarke lamely finishes, peering up at Lexa from her lower position with guileless eyes.

Lexa presses an adoring kiss to Clarke's hand as she smirks slightly, swinging her legs off the barstool to move into the kitchen to help tug down plates as Clarke hastily stirred the noodles.

"I can't believe you thought you'd just be able to swap plants and that I wouldn't notice, I run a plant shop, for chrissake, Clarke," Lexa manages to laugh around a mouthful of wine as she playfully hip checks Clarke.

Clarke shakes her head emphatically as she stirs fresh pesto into the now-drained pasta, spots of red still high on her cheeks.

"They're both green and fluffy and I cannot tell the difference Lexa, not all of us can identify every plant and fungi in the animal kingdom with one eye closed--"

Unbeknownst to the girls, the sun crept slowly below the horizon as night settled, velvety and infinite, over the city of Polis.

[kpforpresident]

Clarke inherits expensive plants. Clarke does not know how to care for plants. Lexa, local nursery owner, proceeds to short circuit.

///

The door chimed, a cheery little note that pulled Lexa out from where she was intently reading, chin propped up in her palms. She sat up from her slouch, absentmindedly reaching out a thoughtful hand to reach for a rapidly-cooling cup of coffee as her eyes scanned the page, flicking over the words she had read dozens of times before. Lexa took a sip as she sat up straighter, pasting on her megawatt customer service smile as the shoes got closer, eyes still glued to her page. 

 Lexa’s finger pressed into the ink of her current line that her eyes were currently following as she raised her voice to be heard over the influx of noise that rushed into the shop with the door now opened- taxis honking, vendors selling their wares, the hustle of the city pouring into her cozy little shop in the downtown core of Polis–

 “Be with you in a moment,” Lexa called into dim of the shop front, finishing her page and sliding in the crumpled hardware shop receipt that was currently serving as her bookmark.

Shutting the worn red cover and pushing into the side of the desk, Lexa turned her face up expectantly, expecting to see the usual harried boyfriend rushing for a bouquet or dutiful partner coming in to buy flowers for their beloved. Instead, she was met with the bluest pair of eyes she’d ever met, and a sweet dimple placed slightly off kilter in a beautiful chin. The owner of these two wonderful features looked down on her amusedly, a slight smile touching her face as she slid a black knit cap off of golden hair into a wool coat pocket. 

“Not interrupting, am I?” the girl spoke, a wonderfully raspy voice emerging from a pair of rosebud lips as she carefully made her way through the various buckets of water that were on the shop floor, all filled to bursting with colorful sprays of flowers in every shape and size. 

Lexa floundered slightly as she shot off of her stool, the worn wooden seat creaking in betrayal as it nearly tipped over with the force of her velocity. Blushing furiously, Lexa scrabbles to find some semblance of cool in front of this beautiful woman. 

“No, it’s all great, all good-” she manages to squeak out about two octaves higher than her normal register, blushing furiously as she tries to awkwardly clear her throat. The blonde quirks an amused eyebrow as she plants a hand on the worn wooden counter, looking around interestedly as Lexa silently berates herself for being the poster child of a Worthless Lesbian that Anya always teases her about. 

“I’m Lexa, I own this shop- how can I help you today…” Lexa trails off as she flicks her eyes meaningfully to the blue ones that sparkle in front of her, hoping she’s not being too blindingly obvious in how badly she’d like to know this woman’s name. 

“Clarke,” the goddess supplies, flashing a bright smile at Lexa as she drops her arms back to her sides after running a thoughtful fingers across a nearby blushing rose. 

“Clarke,” Lexa says again, enjoying how Clarke’s eyes crinkle when she smiles. She leans a hip against the counter, enjoying the sweet honeysuckle perfume that floats through the air when Clarke moves. 

“Lexa,” Clarke echoes as she leans onto the counter again, a sheet of wavy blonde hair spilling from behind her ear as her head tilts. “I have a favor to ask, I’m afraid.” Clarke fishes a hand in her pocket as she speaks, pulling her phone out as she stares at Lexa expectantly. 

“Anything,” Lexa breathes seriously, fighting back another blush as another grin steals across Clarke’s pink cheeks. Fighting the urge to go slam her head into the workroom’s wall, Lexa rallies as she bends over the counter to peek at the glass phone screen Clarke is brandishing expectantly at her. 

Her eyebrows draw together confusedly as she focuses on the small screen in front of her, tilting her head to avoid the glare that’s shining off the fluorescent glare of the shop lights. 

“It’s a Thai Constellation Monstera, and a beautiful one,” Lexa says appreciatively as she hands the phone back, marveling at the large, white-flecked variegated plant that takes up the entirety of the phone screen, potted in a beautiful terracotta pot. “That probably cost an arm and a leg.” 

“Yes, that’s the problem,” Clarke grumbles as she stowes her phone away again, expression akin to a flaxen-haired thundercloud.  Lexa quirks an eye amusedly as she moves from the other side of the counter, bending to straighten a blush rose arrangement before moving to grab some greenery arrangements she needs for a wedding bouquet she’s making for a client this week. 

Clarke blows a strand of hair out of her face as she follows Lexa around the shop, watching as Lexa collects fine clusters of white baby’s breath, swatches of Eucalyptus, and piles of shiny green leaves before heading back to the counter and dumping her spoils on the weathered surface. She snips a few lengths of twine as she methodically begins to sort through the pile to start the centerpieces, waiting patiently for Clarke to finish her thought. 

Clarke picks up a strand of twine and begins toying with it as she speaks, watching Lexa work. 

“My gallery owner gave it to me as a congratulations project for landing a huge gallery spotlight and increasing my clientele, but I didn’t know how to tell him I can barely keep myself alive, let alone a plant that costs more than a month’s groceries,” Clarke mutters, raking an aggravated hand through her hair as she moves her gaze up to fix Lexa with a pleading look. Lexa hides a smile as she meets Clarke’s gaze, neatly tying off another flower bundle with a flourish. 

“Ok, and,” Lexa prompts, at a loss. Judging by Clarke’s reaction, she thought it wise to not tell her that the particular plant she had probably cost two month’s worth of groceries.  “Would you like some tips, ownership tricks?” 

“Yes, please,” Clarke breathed, relief smoothing out her crumbled brow. “That would be fantastic.”

She and Lexa beam at each other for a moment as Clarke jams her hat back on her head, taking a hasty glance at her watch before moving towards the door. 

“I have a curator appointment in fifteen minutes, otherwise I’d love to stay,” Clarke says regretfully, one hand hovering on the door handle. “Can I drop by tomorrow to give you my address, and we can set up a date?”

It’s Lexa’s turn to look confused as she gapes at Clarke for a moment. Did she say a date?

“Your address…?” Lexa asks confusedly, reaching for her stool as she takes a hesitant seat. 

“Yeah,” Clarke says hesitantly as she takes a step back into the shop, the door closing, a gush of late-autumn air swirling through the air as it does. Lexa shivers slightly, pulling her sweater sleeves over her hands. “I was hoping you could….come over? And look at the plant, and walk me through what to do and what special plant things to buy? I have only successfully kept like two cacti alive before this, and that’s only because my best friend tells me they thrive on neglect.” 

Clarke twists her hands in front of her as she trails off, still looking hopefully at Lexa with those huge doe eyes. Lexa snaps her mouth shut as she nods once, still scrambling for words. 

“I- yeah, sure,” Lexa manages to choke out, slamming her mouth shut before she says something dopey like “please can I take you on a date, you’re gorgeous and I want to worship the ground you walk on, even if you are a self-professed plant killer.”

 A smile breaks across Clarke’s face, sunshine after a heavy rainstorm. She prompts the door open again with a foot, looking apologetically across the store as Lexa shivers again. 

“It’s a date,” Clarke says with a wink, stepping so that only a slender hand props open the door. “I’ll drop off my address and number tomorrow and we can set something up. Do you have any allergies, by the way?”

“Yeah, sounds good, no allergies,” Lexa parrots back before she processes what Clarke said, the door rattling shut as Clarke walks off down the sidewalk with a smile on her face. Wait, what? Lexa vaults over the counter, barely clearing the flowers before she hits the ground running. She throws open the door, poking her head out and looking frantically in each direction before spotting a black beanie a few meters away. 

“Wait, CLARKE!” Lexa yells down the sidewalk, giving a frantic smile to the woman who dodges her with a thin lipped grimace. Lexa is hanging out of her shop’s doorway like she’s flagging down a plane, garnering more than a few weird looks as she does so. Clarke turns and walks back a few steps towards Lexa, raising her eyebrows in the universal “yes, and,” gesture.

“Sorry, I know you’re late, but, allergies?” Lexa manages to splutter out. She’s never been as thrown off by someone she just met, and that’s saying something as her brother is dating Octavia, the human version of the energizer bunny. 

“Yeah, allergies,” Clarke laughs as she pulls gloves out of her pocket and puts them on as she talks, the nip of the afternoon biting pink onto her cute sloped nose. ‘“I can’t let good looking girls fix my plant problems without wining and dining them, now can I? As long as that’s ok?” Clarke looks slightly concerned as she finishes her sentence, clearly nervous that she’s overstepped. 

“Yeah,” Lexa breathes as an involuntary smile cracks her face. “That’d be great- I’d love to.” 

Clarke ducks her head a little, a blush stealing across her cheeks before she makes eye contact with Lexa again. 

“It’s a date, then.” 

Lexa watches for a minute as Clarke breaks into a sprint down the street, giving a little wave as she heads off, clearly almost late to her meeting. Smiling to herself, Lexa turns to head back into the shop, a little extra bounce in her step. 

If the next few customers get extra roses in their bouquets, they’re certainly not complaining.

[kpforpresident]

Smooshed together tightly in a tiny closet hiding from something

“Lex, you’re standing on my foot!” Clarke hissed as her hand shot out automatically to nudge her girlfriend off of her now-very sore toe. She was pressed thigh to shoulder against her partner, which normally wasn’t a position she minded being in at all. When it constituted being squished into a miniscule coat closet, however-

“Clarke, that was my boob you just shoved!” Lexa whispered back just as harshly, the crack in the closet door just letting in enough of a dim glow to see her green eyes narrow in annoyance. 

“Well, if you hadn’t picked the smallest damn closet in the apartment, we wouldn’t be in this situation!” Clarke gestured as wildly as she could, considering her arms were pinned to her sides given the narrowness of the space. She quietly spat out a mouthful of Lexa’s wild curls as she wiggled, trying to find an inch of room amongst all of the heavy winter coats and boots. 

“I didn’t have any time, Clarke,” Lexa said mockingly as she poked her gently in the shoulder, her elbow hitting the wall with a quiet thump. “Someone was being very picky about hiding spots and this was the best option left! And clearly, our teeny Brooklyn apartment doesn’t have the most spacious storage options!” 

Lexa stared back at Clarke, the corners of her mouth turned down into what Clarke could only call an approximation of Grumpy Cat. They stared tersely at each other for a long moment before bursting into quiet giggles, Clarke shoving her face into Lexa’s neck to try and muffle her laughter. 

Rapid footfall thudded outside of their chosen hiding spot, coupled with heavy breathing. Lexa grabbed Clarke’s bicep, squeezing tightly. Clarke stacked her hand atop Lexa's, their eyes meeting in the dim light. A shadow crept closer outside, blocking the light into the closet. A moment’s pause, and-

“Aunt Wexa! Cwarke!” Screeched an extremely excited three year old, dirty blonde hair flopping over a dark brown set of eyes as a tiny hand threw open the door. He paused slightly before launching himself at Lexa’s kneecaps headfirst. 

Lexa, sensing the impending onslaught, caught him seconds before the collision. Tugging Clarke out of the closet with her, she smoothly scooped him up and blew a huge raspberry into his pudgy tummy, his bright blue shirt riding up as he wiggled and laughed. 

“Hey Coop, you found us! Good job, buddy,” Clarke laughed, fondly pushing the thatch of hair out of Cooper’s eyes. He grinned brightly as he squirmed, ready to get down. 

“Found you, found you,” Cooper chirped happily as he sprinted towards his mother. 

Anya picked up her son with the same smile echoed on her face, fluidly settling him on her hip as she turned to Lexa and Clarke. 

“Lex in the closet, that’s not something I’ve seen in over a decade,” She quipped, dark eyes sparkling with laughter. Lexa flipped her off as soon as Cooper was looking the other way.

 “But anyway guys, thanks for babysitting while I was at the meeting, it was a huge help.” Anya bent to shake out a small green jacket, somehow wrangling it over Cooper even as he flailed around energetically. 

Lexa leaned against the door, Clarke naturally folding around her. She tugged her closer as she fondly looked at her sister and nephew. 

“Anytime, Ahn. We don’t get to see him enough with you and Raven still out in Cali- we were happy we could do it while you guys were at the conference,” Lexa said as she bent to hand Anya two toddler-sized brown winter boots. Anya wrangled them on small feet with Clarke’s help, passing a rapidly tiring Cooper to Clarke’s willing arms as she slung on her own winter jacket. 

“We could babysit more often if you moved back to the Big Apple,” Clarke sang teasingly as she gently transferred the now dozing kid back to Anya. Anya bounced Cooper once as she adjusted his weight and smiled good-naturedly. 

“Raven and I talk about it all the time- maybe once he’s a little older, if the tech opportunities are still good out here.” She let Lexa grab the door handle for her, nodding her thanks as she stepped into the hallway. 

“Tomorrow, that one italian place with bottomless garlic bread and really good wine for dinner?” Lexa questioned, hand hanging on the doorknob as she peered at her older sister. 

Anya cocked her head as she pressed the elevator button, the elevator sliding open with a quiet chime. 

“The one on sixth? 6:30, so kiddo can sleep at a reasonable time, even if Clarke and Raven get absolutely trashed on expensive Italian wine?” Anya called, holding the door open with a foot as she looked teasingly at Clarke. Clarke’s mouth fell open, the tips of her ears flushing slightly. Lexa bit back a smile as she looked lovingly at Clarke, knowing she would never hear the end of it if she laughed. 

“Hey, that was one time!” Clarke protested, looking quickly between the Woods sisters. “It was Raven’s idea!” 

“Isn’t it always?” Anya’s voice floated out of the elevator as the doors finally slid shut, the arrow notifying that it was headed to the ground floor. 

Clarke shook her head with a good natured grumble as she locked the front door behind them. Lexa’s eyes twinkled with mirth as she gazed at Clarke, the hidden smile tugging at the corners of her mouth now that they were alone. 

Clarke gave her a playful shove as she towed Lexa into their bedroom, stripping quickly as she moved to turn on their shower. Lexa gave her a quick peck on the cheek as she moved back to the doorway. Clarke paused after turning on the water, a mass of blonde hair popping around the rapidly-steaming bathroom door. 

“Wait, you aren’t joining?” Clarke pouted, unleashing the biggest, bluest, puppy dog eyes Lexa had ever seen. 

Lexa hesitated with one foot in the hallway as she wavered, torn.

“I was going to start dinner,” she said, self control rapidly diminishing at the idea of spending time with Clarke- especially time that entailed Clarke naked and coated in bubbles. 

Clarke smiled cheekily, tossing her bra out the door at Lexa’s feet for good measure. Lexa turned immediately towards Clarke, pulling her t-shirt off as she hopped on one leg, trying to unbutton and strip out of her jeans at the same time. 

“It can wait.”

[kpforpresident]

Can I have “graded exams get handed back to the wrong person and they have to swap” for 100 please. Bonus points for unrequited pining from a distance.

We all know I am a hoe for bonus point(s). 

In my brain this is how NY AU Clexa met. Love a good gen elective, amirite?

///

Clarke slumps forward in her tiny plastic seat, balancing her forehead on a stubby number two pencil. Around her other first year students mill around the large lecture hall, their laughter echoing off the vaulted ceilings. Despite the early hour of the day everyone was awake and bright-eyed, the tantalizing excitement of a long weekend well within grasp. While the intro level Ethics class wasn’t Clarke’s favorite subject, as a mandatory requisition for any first year she was just happy to be in a class with her friends with a professor who wasn’t a stick in the mud, like Pike was. 

Clarke groans slightly, twirling the writing utensil through her fingers as she glances around the large lecture hall. She mimes sticking it into her jugular, laughing when her best friend swatted away her hand with a disgruntled hiss. To her right Raven is hunched over, cradling a large coffee in between her hands, sleek dark ponytail falling carelessly around her shoulders as she takes a delicate sip from the steaming takeaway cup. 

“Why the fuck do we have an eight am Friday lecture?” Raven hisses to no one in particular, pulling her hoodie tighter around her face in an effort to block out a larger amount of the fluorescent light that buzzed overhead. On her other side Octavia grunts in agreement, unscrewing the metallic lid of her water bottle to chug more ice water, looking vaguely green as she did so. 

Clarke eyes them both, crooking an unamused eyebrow as she did. The professor burst through a side door, shoving an extremely disorganized stack of papers at a harried teacher’s assistant as she bustled towards the front of the room. The long suffering TA– Sarah- stood with a sigh, moving to start handing back their midterms as everyone slowly took their seats, the chatter dying down slightly. Clarke angles herself in her tiny desk to better look at her two best friends, who look like that had been murdered and reanimated shortly prior to the start of class. Clarke licks her finger and swipes amusedly at a smudge of mascara under Raven’s eye with her thumb, giving up when Raven swatts at her with a snarl. 

“If you two delinquents hadn’t decided to go shot for shot with the football team last night with a death wish and a mickey of tequila, you might’ve not been feeling so rough this morning,” Clarke says primly, tapping her pencil on the table smartly with a flourish. Raven leans over, picking up the pencil without breaking eye contact. Still staring directly into Clarke’s eyes, she snaps it in two before dropping the pieces in Clarke’s lap and facing forward again. 

“Lincoln’s hot as hell, Clarke,” Octavia snaps, holding her water bottle to her forehead as if she could ease her hangover through pure iron will alone. “I refuse to let those prissy cheerleaders out-drink me- I could snap those bitches in two.”

Clarke rolls her eyes as Sarah trudges by tiredly, shoving a stack of papers at them before moving on towards the next row. Clarke passes Octavia's and Raven’s exam down, ribbing Raven good naturedly on the 98% emblazoned in bed on her paper. She grimaces sympathetically at the 78% on Octavia’s as she flips her own copy, to be met with a perfect score. Her eyebrows draw together in confusion as she gapes at the score on top. 

Raven rips the paper out of her hand, eyes the size of dinner plates, hangover forgotten. 

“No fucking way Griffin got a perfect test score,” she hoots, flourishing the paper in the air. Clarke leaps to grab the paper before Raven jabs someone’s eye out, and sticks her tongue out at her friend before smoothing out the now-crumpled sheet of paper. 

“It’s not even my paper, guys- whose last name in this section is Woods?” Clarke whispers, disappointed as Profesor Indra dimmed the lights to boot up her old fashioned overhead projector- she claimed that it was superior to powerpoint slides. She was simply too terrifying to argue with. 

Raven quirks an eyebrow at her before she tilts her head towards the other end of the aisle, at the girl who sat alone at the end. Clarke leans over, curious, before slamming back in her seat, paper clutched in now-sweaty hands. 

“Lexa- Lexa’s last name is Woods?” Clarke stammers in a low voice, feeling a blush break over her face. Thankfully, in the now-darkened room Raven just tips a glance her way before she turns around to listen to Indra, who had launched into an impassioned tirade about gender equality in proportion to social race construct and did not seem to be in danger of derailment. 

Lexa.

The object of the secret crush that Clarke had harbored for the past two months sits in a far end seat, a curtain of dark hair obscuring her face as she leans over a piece of lined paper, painstakingly writing notes as Indra talked. A cream coloured knit sweater slouches around her slim frame, the sleeves pushed up over her elbows so she could write without fear of smearing lead. 

Clarke lets loose a little sigh as she stares at Lexa. How she angled towards her paper to write, glasses perched precariously on a freckled nose. Clarke had had a huge crush on her since the second day of class, when Clarke had tripped over a ripple in the decades-old carpet and had fallen face first into Lexa’s lap. Lexa had caught her, smiling softly, and Clarke had fallen head over heels. 

Clarke’s daydream was interrupted as a wad of paper bounces off of her face and falls softly into her lap. She blinks rapidly as Octavia’s unimpressed face swims into her field of vision. Clarke flips her off with both hands as Octavia rolls her eyes. 

“Clarke, stop drooling over that girl like the worthless bisexual you are, grow a pair, and talk to her,” Octavia hisses as she jerks a subtle thumb in Lexa’s direction. “I’m sick of hearing you moon over her with those big dopey eyes- go do something about it, Griffin!”

Clarke’s eyes widen in panic as she slaps Octavia’s hand down, ducking her head as Indra pauses mid sentence to sweep a disproving eye over the auditorium. Phones everywhere drop onto desks as dutiful faces turn back to the front of the room. Indra resumes lecturing as she flips transparent sheets on the projector screen, disruption quelled. 

Clarke traces her finger’s over the loop of Lexa’s name, thinking. She ducks Octavia’s glower, nodding her head decisively as she did so. 

“Yeah ok, I will,” Clarke mutters as she kicks a petulant leg against the desk in front of her. A redheaded guy turns around, shooting her a heavy glower as she did so. She throws up an apologetic hand as the boy turns back around, smoothing a thoughtful hand across her hair as Indra’s voice fades into the background.

Fifty agonizing minutes later, Indra flips the light back on, students blinking into the bright light as the door flies open, chatter creeping in from the hallway. Clarked sucks in a fortifying breath as she shoots up from her seat, promptly ignoring Raven and Octavia’s protests as she blows by them, test clutched in a sweaty hand. She pushes down the nerves churning in her gut as she shoves her way out of the throng of students waiting to exit the classroom. 

“Hey! Lexa!” Clarke cringes at the volume of her voice, moving forward to dodge her classmates as the object of her admiration pauses just outside the door, bright green eyes questioning as she trains her gaze on an obviously frazzled Clarke. She shoulders her backpack over a single shoulder, moving to the side as Lexa steps outside of the doorway to let her pass. 

“Sorry, just- they accidentally gave me your test,” Clarke manages to get out, practically feeling her heartbeat in her throat as it beats a tattoo against her ribcage. 

“Nice job, by the way,” she adds, handing over the perfect test with Indra’s impressed marks emblazoned on the top of the front page. Lexa smiles slightly as she extends a dainty hand to take the test back, tucking it into a side pocket as she shifts a heavy looking textbook to her other hand. 

 “Thanks, Clarke,” Lexa says quietly as she tucks a lock of hair behind a petite ear. Clarke smiles involuntarily at hearing this beautiful girl say her name, leaning against the brick wall and angling in to better catch Lexa’s soft speech. “Here, I got yours accidentally as well–”

Lexa pulls a neatly folded test from her back pocket and gives it to Clarke, Clarke taking it with a nod of thanks as she winces at the grade on top of her exam. A bold 76% stares back at her as she moves her hand to cover the offensive grade, in front of this beautiful girl who just single handedly destroyed the curve on this exam. 

Lexa shifts her weight as she stares at Clarke unsurely, worrying a dusky pink lip between perfectly straight teeth as she stares at Clarke. Clarke is trying very hard to communicate nonverbally with the floor that she’d like to be taken alive as a gentle cool hand touches her wrist. 

“Hey, Clarke- if you want to study together before the next exam, I usually study in the Wilson library on the corner of campus. I’m happy to go over things with you, if you’d like.” Clarke flicks her gaze down to that hesitant hand as her face warms slightly, the knot in her chest unclenching. 

“I’d love that, Lexa,” Clarke manages to stammer out as she meets Lexa’s kind gaze. Clarke jams her sweaty hands into her jeans pockets as they slowly start walking down the hallway together, towards what Clarke knows is Lexa’s politics class. Not that she knew her Monday schedule or anything. 

That would be weird. 

Lexa nods once as a gentle smile touches her mouth, slipping a scrap of paper into Clarke’s hand as she reaches for the doorknob of her next class. 

“That’s my number,” -she jerks her chin at the tiny slip of paper Clarke is now clutching as if it contains the coordinates to the lost Dead Sea Scrolls. “I accept payment in coffees from pretty girls- I take it black with honey in it.” 

Clarke stammers out some sort of an acceptance as she stands frozen outside of the door for a long moment. Snapping out of her daze as Lexa shoots her a small smile from the other side of the class. She does an exhilarated little wiggle as she skips off, practically floating as she heads to the arts building. 

Ethics was her new favorite class.

[kpforpresident]

Ok ok ok one is a peds nurse one is an er nurse and they get huffy puffy about the importance of their specialties

this is probably longer than it needs to be but as a nurse I consider it my duty, ok? ok.

///

Clarke stood in the crowded hospital lobby, silently fuming as she waited to pick up her mobile coffee order. The barista hardly blinked anymore when she picked up her quad-shot latte, having visually scanned her rumpled navy scrubs the first time she showed up and then dashed off again with her extremely espresso heavy latte, needing a pick-me-up four hours into what ended up being a 16+ hour shift. Working in a 24 hour coffee shop nestled firmly within a level 1 trauma hospital, she was sure he’d seen weirder. Clarke threw a quick glance at the watch that hung off the teal stethoscope around her neck- she had another ten minutes before she had to go and rejoin the chaos that was the Peds ER during cold/RSV season. 

Just as she stepped up to the register, a slim hand snaked around her to press her credit card to the card reader, paying for her much-needed caffeine with a quiet beep. The green-aproned cashier smiled at the generous tip as he gave a thankful nod to the woman who stood so close behind Clarke that she could feel the heat emanating off of her figure, the fruity note of her shampoo wafting through the air. Clarke raised an unimpressed eyebrow, already knowing who would be behind her when she turned. 

“You didn’t have to do that, Lex. I’m a big girl, I can buy my own coffee.” Clarke spoke into her drink  as she handed back the tall iced matcha latte that had appeared on the coffee bar next to her own drink, knowing instinctively it was for the brunette next to her. Lexa hastily paid for her own beverage as she chased down the colorful hallway after Clarke, her matte black stethoscope swinging in its holster that sat jauntily on her left hip as she broke into a quick jog. 

A gentle hand snagged Clarke’s elbow, prompting her to slow her aggressively fast walk to a meander. She aquised as she turned back to Lexa, eyebrow cocked sarcastically as she took in the nurse in front of her. 

Lexa looked perfect, as always, despite being halfway through what Clarke knew was a perpetually challenging PICU shift. Black scrubs hung on a lithe frame, braids and a half ponytail pulling dark wavy hair away from a stunning face. Colorful pens were neatly lined up in her thigh pocket, her badge swinging with a rolodex of inotrope doses and insulin dosing windows, a smiling, younger Lexa grinning out from a faded hospital badge picture. A monogrammed Patagonia vest covered her top half, unzipped so a hint of a defined collarbone peeked out from the v of her scrub top. 

“I promised you when we started orientation all those years ago, I would buy your coffee whenever I trespassed on your turf. And I certainly did today.” Lexa smiled as she talked, those gentle green eyes alight on Clarke’s face as she took in Clarke’s sour expression. She took a calm sip of her green drink as she waited for Clarke’s response, a playful smile tugging on the corner of her mouth. 

Clarke scuffed a worn converse against the sparkly hospital floor, chancing another glance at her watch as she worked through her answer very carefully. 

“I don’t know why Kane consulted PICU team on that case, anyway- we had it well in hand.” Clarke spoke sullenly to her feet as she took a seat in the lobby, the emergency room entrance visible across the large, brightly lit space. While Arkadia General wasn’t as new as some of the other hospitals, the pediatric center was bright, well lit, and colorful. Cartoon figures danced down the wall, fantastical shapes dangling from the main atrium ceiling. Clarke still remembered the awe she felt walking through the doors as a new grad, eyes glued to the ceiling as she walked breathlessly into the lobby. And somehow, smack into Lexa. That was four years ago. 

In the present day, Lexa’s large eyes rounded incredulously as she leaned against a nearby wall, crossing her ankle as she slouched slightly. 

“Clarke, that kid had a massive tension pneumo, he needed a stat intubation and double chest tubes secondary to a needle aspiration so he didn’t die in the triage room, in front of his incredibly distraught mother. You already had two intubated patients and two other RSV cases, we have a top level PICU in this hospital so you don’t have to deal with that shit four feet from the front entrance.” 

Lexa peeked at her watch as she finished her sentence, running a frustrated hand across her face. Clarke guessed her lunch break was almost over as well. Deep down Clarke knew that Lexa was right, that the little boy had needed to be rushed to PICU so he could get the care he needed, but something grated across her chest whenever she felt like she needed to be rescued. She was a critical care nurse too, dammit. 

So what if her lines were always tangled. 

Clarke blew out a frustrated breath, glancing to the entrance of the ER where she could see Octavia glaring at her, pointing to her bare wrist as if to say, tick tok, bitch. She could tell by the incrasing furrow in her brow that this wasn’t the first time she had tried to get Clarke’s attention. 

“Damn, I have to go, it’s O’s turn to eat and she has a cardiac kiddo that needs to be watched until your people can come grab him and prep him for consult. I gotta go, anyway- I have a hot date tonight that I need to get out of here on time to get ready for.”

Clarke started walking as she spoke, flipping around so she could still face Lexa as she retreated. Her teasing smile let the intensive care nurse know that she wasn’t truly pissed- just a bit of friendly competition. 

Lexa’s eyes twinkled as she watched Clarke retreat, rounding the corner to punch the elevator that would take her up to the sixth floor, where the PICU resided tucked in next to the NICU. 

“A hot date, eh? Lucky woman,” Lexa called jokingly as she disappeared out of sight. 

“You have no idea,” Clarke shouted back as she entered back into the chaos. 

//

Clarke sighed as she rubbed ruefully at her neck, wincing as the clock on her phone glared accusingly at her- 9:45 pm, almost three full hours later than she was meant to clock out. She sorted through her keys to find her apartment key, treading lightly through the darkened apartment as she shucked off her birkenstocks and peeled off her socks. Clarke had changed into her spare set of clothes she kept in her locker after work today, opting to shower in the hospital locker room. 

She had forgotten how bloody multi-victim MVAs could get. 

A warm muted glow shone from the one green lampshade in the living room, casting a light over the lump on the couch. A smile tugged on Clarke’s lips as she trudged tiredly over to it, weariness gnawing on her bones. She skimmed a gentle hand over the small amount of hair that was exposed from the knit covering, murmuring a hello as the shape moved and eventually emerged, blinking blearily. 

“Hi, baby,” Lexa whispered as she visibly shook off the sleep that clung to her eyes, running a soothing hand down Clarke’s arm as she sat on the very edge of the couch. 

“Hi, love. I’m sorry I didn’t call, my phone died as I was heading out to the car and I forgot my damn charger. All hands on deck were needed and I didn’t want to leave them until the kiddo was stabilized. I’m sorry I ditched date night.” Clarke left her hand on Lexa’s face, needing the contact after a long day. Lexa nodded sleepily as she turned her lips to Clarke’s palm, pressing a comforting kiss there. 

“S’ok. I get it, it isn’t the first time for either of us and it won’t be the last. I ordered Thai from that place you love, your curry is in the fridge and I stopped on the way home from work and got that seasonal beer you like, the pumpkin one. Do you want me to reheat it while you get changed?” 

Lexa swung herself up, tucking her hands into Clarke’s old sweatshirt as she righted herself and pushed off, brushing a soft kiss to Clarke’s lips as she padded towards the kitchen. Clarke smiled fondly at the worn piece of clothing ,white letters emblazoned on the maroon background. 

“Sure, baby, that sounds good. I love you. Thanks for understanding. ” Clarke stripped off her hoodie as she stood, heading towards their bedroom, the promise of PJs and a hot meal before falling into bed so enticing she could cry. 

Lexa leaned against the worn door frame, a smile lighting up her face as she soaked in Clarke’s words, said quietly but no less fervently. The back light danced around her figure, tiny baby hairs haloed around her face. 

“I love you too, Clarke. Thanks for letting me come and play in your kingdom today, I love seeing you at work. My badass angel of death.” 

Clarke rolled her eyes at the voice that floated through the apartment as she changed quickly, taking her wet hair down from her bun as she moved through the rooms to drape herself around Lexa’s frame dramatically. The fragrant scent of curry shimmered through the room, Lexa reheating it in a battered saucepan as she handed Clarke a frosty beer. 

“Don’t you forget it,” Clarke muttered into the toasty hairs that played at the nape of Lexa’s neck, smiling playfully as goosebumps decorated the soft skin. 

Lexa turned again to press another kiss to her tired wife, lending her support for what she knew had been a taxing and most likely traumatizing end of shift. They stood in their little bubble, silently taking comfort from each other as the moon shone brightly through the curtained windows, sole witness to the soft love and support that poured from the apartment.

[kpforpresident]

#47- Spite. Please and thank you. :)

Clarke drops her head to Lexa’s thigh, smiling into the warmed skin there as she feels the trembles, minute but noticeable under her vigilant, loving touch. Lexa lets out a forced breath as she raises her head from the splintered wooden dock, threading hands through Clarke’s flaxen hair to tug her up, pressing a deep kiss to smiling lips.

Clarke lets herself be led willingly, settling into the cradle of Lexa’s hips as she melts into her lover, running a gentle hand across the heartbeat that she could feel thrumming under the tips of her fingers. Lexa smiles at her adoringly, her bright eyes sparkling as she tucks a hand underneath her head to prop herself up. 

She presses an adoring nose to the place where Lexa’s ear meets her neck, inhaling the comforting scent of the beach after it rained, the brine of the sea. They sit in silence for a few long moments, simply taking comfort in each other. Lexa stiffens slightly as she catches sight of the moon, hanging brightly in the middle of the sky as its cool brilliance pours in through the shack’s little window.

“It’s late, Clarke. I must go.” Lexa sounds regretful as she shifts Clarke gently, preparing to stand. Clarke is abruptly jarred from her good mood as Lexa’s arms close on her biceps to nudge her off, already reaching for the beautiful pelt that she tucked reverently in the corner upon her arrival. 

Clarke stews quietly as she pulls her own clothing on, feeling the dark cloud over her head grow to a thunderhead as Lexa continues to peer out the window, oblivious to Clarke’s mood. 

Lexa tucks the pelt around her shoulders, reaching for Clarke to press a goodbye kiss on her as she had so many times the past few months. Clarke had been a dutiful girlfriend, had smiled and made herself soft for the various goodbyes, but she felt the tenuous leash on her temper that had been fraying slightly more over these abrupt goodbyes, abruptly snap as Lexa brushed her shoulder with a small smile on her face. 

Clarke jerks back abruptly, Lexa’s fingers halting in surprise as her loving girlfriend transforms into a hostile force before her eyes. 

“I think you should just go, Lexa,” Clarke snarls as she purposefully avoids Lexa’s hold, wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Her rage only grows at the bewildered echo in Lexa’s eyes, how her gaze follows Clarke as she moves away from the water, away from Lexa. 

“Wouldn’t want to keep you from your true love,” Clarke growls spitefully, pressing a slightly mocking kiss onto surprised lips before stomping further up the beach, burning with anger as she stands with her back to the waves. 

She ignores Lexa’s soft entreaties for her to come closer, to say goodbye properly as she darts another panicked glance at the moon, at how the tide laps at her feet. 

Why did she have to leave? Why does she always leave?

“I will explain everything, Clarke,” Lexa breathes, looking pained as she stands with one foot in the foamy wash of the shore, the other on land, turning like she was poised to sprint up the beach to Clarke. 

“But for tonight, we are out of time.” 

Clarke looks away pointedly from the water, denying Lexa a chance to say a proper goodbye as she hears a body enter the water gracefully. When she looks back, a dark, sleek head is bobbing far out in the water. 

Lexa is gone for two weeks. 

In her free time, still inflamed with righteous anger at her perceived abandonment, Clarke storms off to her grandmother’s house, and asks to see her collection of lore books that she keeps, shelved neatly in a back corner of her bright cottage. Lily raises an eyebrow but agrees, appearing to hand Clarke a steaming cup of tea as she leafs through the books, searching. 

She had bit her tongue, apart from a few stunned questions when she had first seen a beautiful girl emerge from the waves at the turn of last summer, eyes greener than the forest, dark hair cascading down her back as she had quietly, shyly introduced herself to Clarke. Clarke had fallen for the Selkie so deeply and completely, deciding early on that whatever Lexa deigned to tell her about her culture, her people, would be enough. Now, however, that was not enough to satisfy Clarke. 

Sitting crossed legged on the smooth wooden lore, she cracks open a small green book, rapidly flipping pages-

Abarta, Changelings, Banshee, Faeries….Leprechaun….Selkie.

Heart in her throat, she bends over the little book, squinting at the age-yellowed pages as she turns them gingerly between careful fingers. 

Because the skins are limited, passing one on is very rare: either from the death of its previous owner, or a parent choosing to give up their mortality so a younger family member may have a turn. Since there are so few, not every Selkie child receives a skin. While human in appearance, Selkies are very much Other, and must live by the rules of their kind. If someone takes their skin captive while the Selkie is in human form, they are very much Indebted to that person. Selkies must be back in their seal form prior to midnight, so tied are they to the sea. Such is the curse of the Selkies. 

She runs a trembling finger farther down the page to read the inscription that had been scrawled in a cramped margin, tucking her hair impatiently behind her ear as she bends closer, nose almost skimming the page as she reads. 

"You are here to make your choice. Will you join the Selkies in the sea, or will you live human for the length and breadth of your days, however long or short those days may be? Before you choose, you must understand where we come from; why our skins are limited in number, why there are no other races like us in Faerie. To become a link in the chain which binds us, you must first be forged. Will you swim the deep waters? Will you be a sister to your people, and keep them ever in your heart?"

A tear drips off of her nose, hitting the page with a wet plop. Two more fall in rapid succession. Clarke closes the book as the tears stream down her face, loathe to ruin the book with her outpouring of emotion. She cradles the small tome close to her chest as she leans back against the shelf, chest heaving as she tries to keep the maelstrom of emotion contained within herself, so as to not alert her Grandmother. 

“I didn’t understand, Lexa,” she whispers to the salt air that pours through the nearby window, the quiet calling of gulls in the distance mixing with the soothing wash of the waves. 

Every night for the next week, Clarke goes to sit by the waves as the moon rises in the sky, hoping that tonight is the night that her Selkie returns.

[kpforpresident]

#45, out of anger 😤 please and thanks!

Lexa winced slightly as the door slammed heavily, hard enough to make the remaining windows rattle in their panes. Her fingers tightened slightly around the small cracked ceramic pot before she resumed her methodical job of painting on her signature black warpaint. She was finishing touching up the streaks down each of her cheeks when a fuming blonde avenging angel appeared behind her, dark blue eyes stormy, betrayed. 

The Commander set the pot down with a quiet clink as she grasped her dressing table, the wood groaning slightly in protest. She knew without a doubt that Clarke was itching for a fight. 

“Hei, ai hodnes.” Heda murmured quietly, leaning forward to check her warpaint in the cracked and fogged looking glass that leaned askew against the back concrete wall. Behind her in the mirror, Clarke crossed her arms firmly, refusing to soften in the slightest. She cracked with fury, emanating off her in waves as she faces off with her warlord lover. 

“When were you going to tell me, Lexa? As you were riding out of the gates with your warriors? Send me a letter from the battlefield? When they brought you back, wounded or worse?!” Clarke’s voice cracked on the last sentence, her eyes glistening in a way that had Lexa reaching for her automatically, desperately, to soothe the pain that glittered and ran over her wife’s skin like a living, breathing thing. 

Clarke jerked away, the golden braids woven into her hair by Lexa’s loving hands earlier in the day swaying as she moved back to stand by the open balcony. Hands still tucked into her slides as though trying to stem the flow of a mortal wound. The sun was high in the sky above, the birds chirping mockingly as the tension steeped and grew within the bedchambers of Heda and Wanheda. 

Lexa pulled in a deep, sustaining breath as she rose from the table, going to her war chest to pull out her leather bracers that Anya had given her prior to her conclave, her fingers picking out a few prized possessions among the gleaming array of daggers and smaller, sharper weapons that she favors to tuck into her chest plate as she fights. The swords she’ll strap on before they leave, she decides.  

As she laced her fingers through her bracers, pulling them on through muscle memory, she turns to her distraught wife as a planet orbits its sun. 

“Clarke, they came to me this morning as you were working in the infirmary,” she informs softly, knowing that nothing will derail Clarke now, logic least of all. “I leave now to solve the squirmish among the Azgeda border. If all goes well, I will be back by midday tomorrow at latest. I am sorry I did not send a messenger to tell you, I thought you would be back well before we had to leave.” Regret infuses her tone; she knows that if she had informed Clarke sooner then she might have been able to head off this tsunami of anger that threatened to overtake her, just a scant half hour before she had to ride out with her warriors. 

Clarke refuses to soften as Lexa approaches her. A kiss meant to soothe, appease, misses its target as Clarke jerks her head sharply away, soft lips landing on a cheekbone instead of on its partnered pair of lips. 

“You know what happened last time you went to that border,” comes the soft, sad whisper, twin tears falling like shooting stars down Clarke’s cheeks as she swipes roughly at her face, angling away from Lexa as she denies her lover the chance to comfort her. 

 “I know, Clarke.”

They both know. Two seasons ago while riding to break up what they believed was a routine complaint of vagrants looting caravans in one of the northern quadrants of the Podakru and Azgeda border, Lexa had been shot with an arrow through the shoulder, despite the best efforts of her guard. 

With a poisoned arrow. 

She had been returned to Clarke’s desperate care in the dead of night, feverish and hallucinating as she had cried and fought, whimpering alternatively for Clarke, for her friends from the Conclave, for Anya, as she cried black tears of blood. Clarke had never been more terrified in her life.

 Clarke had worked with a desperate crew of five other trusted healers through the night to attempt to ascertain the antidote to the poison, to save their Commander. 

To save Clarke’s houmon.  

In the end Nyko had saved her, remembering an obscure Azgeda poison that grew only from the moss that flourished in the thawed pools that formed in the northern caves in the summer. 

The same caves that Nyko had happened to visit last summer on a foraging expedition in an attempt to ease past tension between King Roan’s people and other members of the Kongeda. 

They had packed Lexa’s dark wound with the dried moss and prayed.

She would never admit it, but Clarke’s tears had mixed with the dressing as she slumped over her wife, shaking with silent sobs when Lexa’s fever had finally broken, waking with a quiet, “Clarke?” and a weakened hand threading through dirty blonde locks. 

In present day, Clarke’s burning gaze locks with Lexa’s softened one that begs for forgiveness. In a moment of bravery Lexa tentatively inches towards her love, twining their fingers together. She presses herself to Clarke, willing her to soften. Clarke lets herself be arranged into the embrace as Lexa threads her fingers behind Clarke’s neck, bringing their foreheads together. 

“In any world, any universe,” Lexa breathes as their eyes slide shut, bodies pressing together, heartbeats slowly synching into one, “I will come back to you, ai Haiplana. I will crawl if I have to.” 

Clarke nods fiercely without breaking their embrace, more tears escaping from beneath her trembling eyelids. 

She yanks Lexa even closer, smashing their lips together as she clings to Lexa as tightly as she possibly can, willing her body to meld to hers. Clarke tastes blood as her lip splits, teeth clashing as she tries to deepen the kiss while scrabbling against Lexa’s leather breastplate for purchase. Lexa lets herself be soft, lets herself be lead as she presses into her wife, selfishly soaking in the love and fear that emanates from Clarke. 

A soft knock on the door breaks them apart slightly, both breathing fiercely, foreheads still touching as their hands lock. The door cracks open the scantest inch. 

“Heda…it is time.”

“I will be at the stables in five minutes, Ryder,” Lexa calls back in her Heda voice, unwilling to break the fiery stare that Clarke is burning her alive with. She presses one more desperate kiss onto Clarke, swiping away Clarke’s tears as best she can with her thumbs. 

Clarke silently walks across the room to fetch Lexa's two favorite swords. She straps them wordlessly to her back, dried tear tracks still lingering on her cheeks. They both know that Clarke won’t come down the stables to see her off; it's too painful for both of them for her to watch Lexa leave. 

“You will come back, Lexa Kom Trikru,” Clarke orders in her fiercest, coldest voice as she checks over her lover’s armor, making sure every piece is strapped and tucked in place perfectly, to cover Lexa’s weak spots when she cannot. 

She places one last kiss on Lexa’s helm of awe as she walks her to their bedroom door, checking her over one last time with a critical eye. 

“You will come back, or I will come fetch you myself.” 

[kpforpresident]

Clexa #46 please

~out of envy or jealousy~

“Clarke, wait,” Lexa calls out desperately behind her, sighing in slight frustration as the mane of blonde hair whipped around the hallway of their apartment building. Fading footsteps pounded furiously up the slightly tilted stairs that lead to their cozy third story apartment. Keys rattled in the door, and then the resounding sound of that same door slamming echoed in the hallway. 

Lexa slumped against the very bottom stair, pinching the bridge of her nose tiredly. Letting her head fall back with a thump against the wallpapered hallway, she dug her phone out of her pocket with a weary hand and pressed two on her speed dial, waiting.  

“Hey, kid. What have you done now?” An amused voice blares out of the small speaker as Lexa presses the speakerphone mode and taps the phone against her forehead, holding up her head with a weary finger to her temple. 

She wiggles uncomfortably in her suit, undoing her jacket with one hand as she tries to sit without wrinkling it more. She had only worn this particular green one, slightly tight as it was, because she assumed that Clarke would be peeling it off her as soon as they had gotten home from the law school gala. Preferably with her teeth. Clearly, she muses as she looks up at their very shut front door, that was not happening tonight. She scrubs a tired hand over her face, remembering at the last moment that she had put on eye makeup tonight. Damn, double damn.

“Ahn, why do you assume that I am the one who has fucked up,” she snarls slightly, looking with betrayal at the phone. As if Anya can see her through the speaker, all the way out in sunny California. 

“Because,” the knowing voice on the other end of the line says, “you wouldn’t be calling me at-” a shuffle as Anya leans over to peer at her kitchen clock- “two am New York time if you hadn’t fucked up in some manner.” 

Lexa nods slightly. Then, remembering that Anya can’t see her, says quietly, “yeah, I mean you’re not wrong. The problem is, I don’t think I’ve done anything. But Clarke clearly thinks I have, and now I am locked out of my own apartment because she has the only set of keys we brought out!” 

A tinny laugh oozes out of the speaker and Lexa rolls her eyes as she smiles slightly, waiting for Anya to get her kicks. Then a crackly sigh pours out of the speaker, followed by the whoosh of what Lexa assumes is Anya’s fridge opening. The bubbly crack of a beer can follows as Lexa can hear Anya getting settled again. She can picture her, slinging herself onto her kitchen counter as she gets comfortable, long legs dangling off, beer in hand. 

“Ok, Lex. I’m ready. Hit me with whatever fuckery you’ve managed this time.” Lexa rolls her eyes for real this time as she wiggles out of her jacket fully, draping it carefully over a higher step as she toes off her favorite dress shoes. 

“I don’t know what happened, Ahn. The night was going well, we had been having fun. Clarke was wearing this insane midnight navy dress that I was honestly losing my mind over-”

“Ew, Lexa,” Anya interrupted, sounding horrified. “I’m really glad you've been sickeningly in love since you were like, eighteen, but I do not need to hear how badly you want to bone your girlfriend. Believe me, we all know it.” 

Lexa smiles for real as she conjures up a vision of Clarke’s dress- strapless and shimmering in the soft lights of the ballroom, clinging to her legs and generous curves as she moves and dances. Lexa had barely been able to keep her hands off Clarke, the liquid silk appearing as it had been simply painted on her girlfriend. Clarke had topped off the look with strappy black heels that made it so she was able to look Lexa squarely in the eyes as they danced. 

Lexa had had visions of those shoes in particular throughout the night, them falling into bed after, light off of expensive champagne and tiny plates of appetizers  supplied by Lexa’s law program to celebrate the end of their third year. Clarke wearing only those shoes, creamy alabaster legs wrapped around Lexa’s shoulders in their bed. 

Lexa shakes the image out of her head as Anya’s inquiring, exasperated “Hello, earth to Alexandria,” blares into her eardrum. 

“Sorry Anya, I’m here,” She says as a faint blush steals across the tops of her ears. “Anyway, everything had been going so well, we had been having fun. Clarke had sat for a little while because her feet were hurting, and Costia and I were dancing-”

“Wait, wait wait,” Anya cuts her off, sounding decidedly less amused. “You were dancing with Costia? Lexa, anyone with eyeballs and a pulse can see how badly that girl has it for you, she practically makes up excuses to come talk to you at your internship. You know it bugs the hell out of Clarke!” 

The friendship between Anya and Clarke wasn’t one that Lexa completely understood, as they teased the hell out of each other. But at some point over Lexa and Clarke’s six plus year relationship, Anya had become as protective of Clarke as she was of Lexa. 

“I know Anya,” Lexa growls back, wiggling down completely now to lay on the rickety wooden step. The accusing face of her watch reads 2:45 am. 

“But Clarke needed to sit, and Costia’s date Echo was off schmoozing up one of our law profs, and she asked and I felt like I couldn’t say no. It was one dance, Ahn! We talked about Clarke the entire time! We were talking about her latest exhibit!” 

“Does Clarke know that??” Anya demanded through the speaker, pitch of her voice stepping up incredulously.  Lexa’s arm that isn’t holding the phone shoots up into the air, gesturing in exasperation as she clamps the phone between her jaw and shoulder. 

“I didn’t have a chance, Anya! Clarke was so pissed after that dance that she barely said another word to me as we cabbed home, wouldn’t listen to me. Then she sprinted off in those damn heels and now I’m here, talking to you while my girlfriend fumes inside. What do I do?!” 

Silence. 

“You know what to do, Lex,” Anya’s unamused voice said. “Go up there, and fucking grovel. Tell her exactly what you told me. Relationships are based on trust and mutual love, but Clarke has communicated to you clearly that she’s uncomfortable with Costia, and you danced with her anyway. Your intentions were good but your execution needs a lot of work, little sister.” 

“Love you too, Ahn,” Lexa snarls, but there is no heat behind it. 

“Bye, Lexa. We’ll talk tomorrow?” 

Lexa murmurs an affirmative before hanging up, dropping her phone on her chest as she sits, thinking, for a long moment. She hoists herself up, tucking her phone into her back pocket as she grabs her shoes with her right hand, slighing her jacket over her left shoulder as she slowly walks up the meandering staircase. Before she can hesitantly knock on the door, it creaks open. 

Liquid blue eyes meet her apologetic gaze. Clarke’s face is scrubbed clean of makeup, the skin around her eyes slightly red. Golden curls tumble around her shoulders, the glamorous waves from the event falling slightly. She’s dressed in one of Lexa’s oversized Columbia sweaters, the sleeves rolled so that her hands are free, legs and feet bare. It’s Clarke’s go-to comfort item when she’s upset. It hurts something in Lexa’s chest to see how sad this made Clarke. Lexa drops her shoes again as she reaches for Clarke, instinctively wanting to comfort her. 

Clarke lets herself be folded into Lexa’s embrace, tucking her chin into Lexa’s shoulder. They stand in silence for a moment in the doorway. 

“I heard everything.” 

Lexa’s shoulders slump in silent relief. While she doesn’t exactly love that Clarke was listening to her phone call with her sister, if it has turned the angry lioness back into her pliant and loving girlfriend, she’s willing to let it slide. 

Clarke tugs her into the apartment, door closing behind them. After Lexa has changed, shedding her beautiful but impractical suit for a threadbare Artists Do It Better tie dye t-shirt that they had found while thrifting, they curl up in bed together. 

“I get jealous, Lex,” comes the quiet admission into her shirtfront as Clarke’s arms twine around her for comfort. Lexa stamps a loving kiss to her hairline, waiting for her to finish as she smooths an encouraging hand down her spine. Clarke props her chin up on Lexa’s sternum so they can lock eyes. 

“It’s hard for me to feel like I compare sometimes, with Costia being in your law program and your internship, and you’ll probably work at the same firm after graduation, and I know I’m good at what I do, but it’s just hard to feel like I fit into your world,” comes out in a shaky whisper as those heartbreakingly blue eyes fill with a ream of tears. 

Lexa grabs her tighter, rolling them so they are facing each other on their sides. 

“Clarke, you are it for me,” she states honestly as she smooths her tears away. “You are my world.” 

Clarke nods into her shirtfront. She doesn’t say anything for a moment before she lunges at an unsuspecting Lexa, their mouths clashing together. They kiss heavily for a moment, lips and teeth and tongue battling for dominance. Clarke eventually pulls away first, breathing heavily. Lexa’s eyes are still zeroed onto her lips, eyes dark and wanting. 

“What was that for?” she asks huskily, running a lustful hand over Clarke’s hip. 

“Because, you’re mine,” Clarke snarls back, somehow rolling them so she pins Lexa underneath her. She reaches behind her to pull the baggy sweatshirt over her head, preening slightly as Lexa’s eyes zero into her chest. 

“And I intend to show you that.”