#new clexa

[cascowriteswords]

my contribution to clexmas22

[Read on AO3]

My contribution to Clexmas this year, a growing up together Clexa story told through the lens of 9 Christmases/Christmas Eves over the course of 18 years. Completed one shot :) 

...

Kindergarten

Clarke’s sweater is itchy. She fidgets with the neckline of it as she sits at her desk, feet that don’t reach the ground swinging idly back and forth beneath her. She can’t stop looking at the clock; practically all she can think about is the class Christmas party that they get to have after lunch. Her mom sent her to school this morning with a tray of snowball cookies and she knows that the rest of her classmates brought food, too, but what she’s most excited about is what’s tucked away in her cubby at the back of the room. There, she has a present for her best friend, Lexa, that she’s just dying to give to her.

Her teacher catches her glancing at the clock and then at her cubby for the umpteenth time and approaches, taking a peek at the drawing they’re supposed to be working on, Christmas cards for their parents. “This is excellent, Clarke,” she says. “Your parents will love it.”

“My daddy says he saves all of my drawings ‘cause I’m gonna be in a moozeem one day,” Clarke tells her proudly. Her eyes flick to the clock again, and her teacher smiles knowingly.

“Have you ever heard the saying ‘ a watched pot never boils ’, Clarke?”

Clarke shakes her head, momentarily distracted from her fixation on the time and impending party by the odd question. “It means that time passes slower when you’re waiting for something and it’s all you can think about,” the teacher explains. “So if you keep looking at the clock, it’s going to take even longer until you get to leave for lunch and the Christmas party.”

“I can’t help it,” Clarke says. “I have a present to give to Lexa. She’s gonna love it.”

“That’s exciting. I’m sure she will,” her teacher says. The woman looks across the room to where Lexa is sitting. She's in a white long sleeve turtle neck and a long plaid skirt and her feet do touch the ground in her chair because she's so tall even though she's scrawny. A blue colored pencil is gripped tightly in her hands as she draws, a look of concentration on her face. Clarke and Lexa had their seats separated only a few weeks into the school year due to their inability to stay quiet and focused during their lessons if they were sat next to each other. The two had only just met at the beginning of the year but their friendship bloomed immediately and voraciously to the point that they’re now nearly inseparable whenever given the chance.

“Do you know what I think might make the time pass a little faster?” the teacher asks. Clarke shakes her head, still fidgeting in her seat and plucking at the collar of her itchy Christmas sweater. She follows the teacher’s gaze over to Lexa and then looks back to her, curious. “How about I let you go sit with Lexa,” the teacher proposes.

Keep reading here 

[lorig11]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Just posted this one shot for clexa week 2018

[imaginaryhistorianme]

My NaNoWriMo Goal

I’ve decided I’m going to write my new Clexa story to completion this month. So by December 1, it’ll be written (and hopefully mostly edited) and ready for posting.

That’s my goal.

[cascowriteswords]

Cryptidally Yours

Part Three

[Part One] [Part Two] 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Clarke fumbles around with her camera while trying to keep up with Lexa. It’s a simple camcorder that fits in the palm of her hand and is secured with a strap, which is a good thing because Lexa walks at approximately 15 miles per hour and somehow avoids all of the branches and rocks Clarke keeps tripping over and getting snagged on every three seconds.

“Can you slow down?” she calls out in a huff when Lexa is so far ahead she’s on the verge of being out of earshot. “Not all of us are a billion feet tall and 2/3rds legs.”

She watches Lexa stop in her tracks. She can imagine the scowl on her face - because really, is she ever in a good mood? - while she probably counts to three in her head or something controlled and reasonable like that. Then she turns around, face wiped clean of emotion as always. Like Clarke can’t see the irritation roiling in her green eyes, anyways, or hear it in the clip of her voice. 

“If you can’t manage the terrain here then you shouldn’t have come. We need to cover ground.”

It’s no secret that Lexa doesn’t like her. Or at the very least, doesn’t respect her. She’s not an idiot, and she remembers reading Lexa’s poorly opinion of her on a Reddit thread some time ago. It evidently hasn’t changed. 

“I can manage the terrain just fine,” Clarke snaps at her. She’s been trying to keep things civil and calm between them, but it’s hot and her arms and legs itch from the tall grass and brush and Lexa’s dismissive arrogance is really grating on her nerves. “I’ve been on trips like this before,” she continues. “Did you notice how chummy I was with the pilot? That’s because I know him. Because he’s flown me 4 times now where commercial flights don’t go.” She’s bolstered by the brief flash of surprise that ripples across Lexa’s face before she can reign herself back in. “Yeah. Just because I don’t do things your way doesn’t mean I’m a bumbling idiot, Lex. So please, stop sprinting through the forest just to try to make a point.”

“I’m not sprinting,” Lexa snaps back at her. The muscles of her jaw flex, but when she speaks again a few seconds later her tone is more measured. “I’m trying to make it so that we can both accomplish what we want to without losing any time. We need to move quickly in order to do so.”

Her explanation makes sense to Clarke - to a certain extent. “Or you could just let me do my own thing. You’re the one insisting we stick together,” she points out. “But you’re not very good at giving up control, are you?”  

Another tick ripples along a chiseled jawline. “We’ve been over this, Clarke. I need to know where you set up your equipment so I can adjust my own activities accordingly.” 

The skeptical, condescending way Lexa says equipment irks Clarke, but there’s no point in getting hung up on that right now. “Yeah, sure, you keep saying that. But this is kind of ridiculous, don’t you think? I mean, you’re looking for clues out here right? How many do you think we’ve just stormed by without noticing because you’re in such a rush?”

“I’ve seen 4 rabbit trails, 3 trees with signs of bears having marked them, and there are two alternative water sources, both to the east. We’ve walked by 3 different types of native autumnal fruit bushes and I remember the approximate coordinates of a spot I want to return to later where I noticed trampled grass and a questionable pile of fallen branches,” Lexa informs her matter of factly.

“....okay, that’s actually impressive,” Clarke admits. “But still, why are you so dead set on keeping our search areas separate when we could just work together? Freakishly observant as you may be this is still ridiculous. You’re going to run yourself into the ground.”

“Our philosophies are diametrically opposed. It wouldn’t work.”

“You think that. But how do you know that?” Clarke pauses for a second, wanting to give Lexa time to process. “Our ways are different, obviously I won’t argue that. But neither of us, nor our collective group of people with our same philosophies and beliefs, have ever actually found Bigfoot. We have a chance here to try something different by working together.”

Lexa is quiet for a few seconds, long enough for Clarke to think she’s actually considering the idea. And maybe she is - but then she purses her lips and gives a quick, sharp shake of her head. “No,” she finally answers. “It wouldn’t work. And I’m more than capable of ensuring we can both get done what we came here to get done without interfering with one another. But I appreciate your concern.”

Lexa turns around and resumes walking, conversation over. Clarke rolls her eyes and sighs, taking a moment to get some water from her canteen before she trudges after Lexa once more, at a reasonable, maintainable pace. Lexa can be as stubborn and indignant as she wants, but the one thing she’s not going to get Clarke to do is speed-walk through the damn Alaskan bush.

…

…

“Here,” Clarke tosses a trail cam to Lexa, who catches it reflexively, hands flying up from her sides. She glances down at the camera she’s now holding and then up at Clarke with the equivalent of a giant question mark on her face, brows furrowed. “Oh come on, Lex, we live in the 21st century. Stop acting like you’ve never touched a camera before.” Clarke tosses over the accompanying rope strap which Lexa catches as well, a full pout on her lips now. Clarke thinks it’s kind of cute, honestly, and that Lexa has a model-worthy mouth she would love to draw one day, but she’s pretty sure that’s not the vibe Lexa’s going for. 

In spite of the attitude, Lexa heads to a tree about 20 feet away from the one Clarke is currently rigging up. It’s their third stop for Clarke to set up cameras, and even though Lexa hasn’t helped with the previous ones and hadn’t even appeared to be watching, it’s clear she’s been paying attention because she requires no instruction to set up the cam exactly how Clarke would have instructed her to. 

Despite all of Lexa’s insistence that they can’t possibly work together, they make a good team as they set up the rest of Clarke’s cameras. While they’re on the move Clarke watches Lexa carefully and asks her about certain things, like how she knows the berries she picks from certain bushes aren’t poisonous (“I just know, Clarke”) and whether or not that flattened area of grass is indicative of some sort of wildlife passing through (it turns out strong wind can flatten large areas of tall grass). 

By the time the sun is starting to set and they’re making their way back to camp, it’s almost as if they’re getting along. They’re walking side by side instead of 50 feet apart from each other, and Lexa doesn’t even complain or make a snarky comment when Clarke runs out of water - she just wordlessly hands over her canteen. It’s peaceful, really, and absolutely beautiful. With the sun no longer glaring down overhead there’s a welcomed chill in the air, and with zero light pollution, some of the brighter stars are already visible overhead at dusk. 

Clarke may not be an expert survivalist and she may have spent most of her younger years indoors on her computer versus outdoors learning about and becoming one with nature. But this, right here and right now? It makes her feel small and insignificant in the best of ways. This is what makes her feel alive. 

It makes her feel sentimental enough to bump her shoulder lightly into Lexa’s as they walk, getting her attention. “You know, I know we’ve gotten off to a rough start, but I just wanted to say that -” 

A hand roughly clamps down over Clarke’s mouth. She sputters, fighting against the hold Lexa suddenly has on her, halting them in their tracks. Her hands fly up to Lexa’s forearm and fingers, clawing for purchase, but Lexa remains unaffected. 

“Clarke, stop,” Lexa hisses in her ear. Something about her tone makes Clarke listen instantly - she freezes. “Don’t. Move.” Lexa’s voice is low, barely louder than her breath. She relaxes her grip, removing the hand on Clarke’s mouth. Clarke feels like she’s been doused with ice water, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up and her pulse beating loudly in her ears. At her side, she watches Lexa unsheath a small knife from her waistband, and oh crap, that can’t be good. Clarke desperately wants to ask what Lexa sees, what is it, but something tells her it’s more important to stay quiet right now. So she does. 

Quiet enough that she can hear the snap of a twig to their right. A slow rustling through brush and fallen leaves. And then - steps. Heavy ones, branches cracking haphazardly in their wake. Lexa lets her knife fly - Clarke has no idea how she can even see anything because she certainly can’t. 

“Run.”

Lexa takes off like a bullet, fingers circling around Clarke’s wrist at the last second to yank her forward with her. She lets go once she’s sure Clarke is following and together they crash into the trees surrounding them, abandoning the grassy area they’d been trekking through all day in favor of breaking line of sight with whatever exactly it is that’s chasing after them. 

Bigfoot?

A bear?

Some homicidal psychopath preying on young women in the bush of Alaska?

Clarke doesn’t care to find out. 

Neither does Lexa, apparently. 

Lexa is fast, Clarke already knew this after following behind her all day, and now she’s running faster than she ever knew she could to keep up. She doesn’t dare look over her shoulder but by the crashing noise from close behind them, whatever they’re running from is fast, too. 

Faster than they are. They’re losing ground. If only Clarke could reach into her bag without tripping and falling flat on her face…

But she can’t. There’s minimal light and every 10 seconds she needs to leap over a fallen tree or swerve around a standing one, and she can barely keep track of Lexa as it is without pausing to rummage through the contents of her bag. So she keeps running, lungs burning and calves on fire, hoping that Lexa has some sort of plan because she can’t keep this up forever, and then - 

Lexa falls. Her foot hooks into a tree root and she hits the ground with a dull thud and a grunt of pain. Clarke skids to a stop at her side, reaching out a hand to hurriedly help haul her back up to her feet, but Lexa rolls to her side cradling her ankle in her hands. “No, I can’t - go, Clarke. Leave me.” Her voice is colored with pain; it’s clear she’s not going anywhere right now. Clarke has a split second to make a decision - their pursuer is closing in, the noises growing closer alarmingly quickly. She’s about to find out what has been chasing them whether she wants to or not.

Leaving Lexa doesn’t even cross her mind - that’s not who she is, even if Lexa has been something of a royal pain in her ass ever since she set foot on that plane days ago. Her fingers tremble as she flings her backpack from her shoulders and undoes the zip, left hand plunging in and wrapping around cool metal. 

She doesn’t think. She lets muscle memory take over as she wields the gun, aiming in the general direction of the footfalls that crash towards them, and fires. Once, twice, three times. The noise slows, then stops. Clarke’s finger is still poised on the trigger, fully aware that she only has one round left as her heart pounds. She’s in something of a terrified daze - the early stages of shock, she would realize if not for the adrenaline coursing through her - thinking that this might really be it. 

She flinches when she hears movement again, nearly firing another bullet, but Lexa’s hand snakes up from the ground and wraps around her forearm, steadying her. Holding their breaths, they hear the footfalls again, but this time heading away from them. Retreating slowly. Clarke doesn’t relax until whatever the heck that was gets far enough away that they can no longer hear them. She doesn’t even really relax then, letting out a shaky breath as she finally looks over at Lexa, who has pulled herself into a sitting position and propped herself against a tree. They stare at each other for several seconds, chests rising and falling as they catch their breaths. 

“You had a gun this entire time and you didn’t even mention it?” 

Clarke stares at her in disbelief. The comment is so unexpected that it almost short circuits her brain.  “Most people would say thank you, you know.”

Lexa presses her lips together - Clarke can read her well enough at this point to know that she wants to argue, to point out why she should have disclosed that information earlier, but to her credit she doesn’t do any of that. “Thank you, Clarke.”

Clarke nods. She rolls her shoulders and glances around them, still feeling jumpy and as if they’re being watched. Her skin crawls. “We’re lost, aren’t we?” she surmises after a moment. She’s halfway hopeful that Lexa had managed to keep track of which direction they’d been running for their lives in, but that hope is dashed when Lexa nods once, confirming. 

“Until the sun comes up, yes.”

“Great,” Clarke sighs. “I need to look at your ankle. If it’s broken the quicker we can -”

“It’s not broken,” Lexa cuts her off. “A bad sprain, maybe. But I can walk. We’ll stay here until sunrise regardless, or we’ll just get ourselves more lost.” 

Clarke stays quiet. If Lexa were anyone else she would argue, insist on tending to her injury, but Lexa isn’t anyone else. She’s Lexa. 

 “Might as well get comfortable. It’s going to be a long night.”

…

…

[cascowriteswords]

My contribution to Clexa Week Day 1 - Vintage AU. 

“After all of her ambling she started heading back towards the apartment, resigned to her fate. Maybe even a little excited. It would all be over soon. She was just so desperate for relief. She turned a corner, boots hitting slick cobblestone while the rain continued to pour down, and for no real reason at all looked up.

That’s when she saw her. “

Read it here. 

[cascowriteswords]

Clexaweek22, Day 7 - Free Day (completed 1 shot, ~4k words, read here)

You’re cold. 

It’s the first thing you notice when you wake up. Your eyes are still closed and feel like they may have been that way for a long time. When you open them they feel as if they’ve been glued shut and it takes more effort than it should to pry your eyelids apart. Once they’re open and you’ve blinked through the thick grittiness of prolonged sleep, you realize it’s dark out. A spotlight moon overhead is the only thing casting a dim glow over the forest floor you’re laying on, its light impeded by tall trees that have grand branches but no leaves or needles. They look bare and spindly and they sway in the steady wind as you look up at them, creaking. 

Laying flat on your back on cold damp soil, you do a quick inventory of your body. Wiggle your toes, make a fist, flex your knees and elbows. Everything appears to be in working order. The only thing that hurts is your head - a localized point on your forehead. It’s a dull throbbing ache that penetrates deeper than just your skin and you raise your hand up to inspect it. The skin there is slick and stings as soon as your grimy fingers make contact. When you pull your fingers away to look at them, they’re covered in dark red blood, sticky and coagulated. That’s…not good. But there’s not much you can do about it at the moment. 

Keep reading

[cascowriteswords]

Chapter 5 is up now! Read it here

Aden really does have a cold on Tuesday when Clarke texts Lexa to let her know they won’t be stopping by for their regular visit to the ranch; but she figures Lexa is unlikely to believe her, given their last interaction. If Clarke were her she’d probably think she was avoiding her, too, so she can’t really blame her. And honestly, she would never wish for her son to get sick, but there really couldn’t have been a more convenient time. The space is useful for her to try and gather her thoughts and clear her head, having been alerted to growing feelings and emotions after kissing Lexa and then being sent into a jealousy induced tizzy upon seeing Costia at the ranch early the morning after.

[lorig11]

More snippets from new Clexa story

Here you go, my 3 followers. ( I don’t count you guys that I talk to every day.)  Another little snippet from the new story.  I  know what you’re thinking, post the damn thing on a03 already.   and my reply is, the story is still fluid.  that sounded like I almost knew what i was talking about.  anyway, hopefully I can sort out the first few chapters and then  i’ll start to post.  Up to over 20k words.   And the story seems to keep growing with every sleepless night.

HERE YOU GO:

On Saturday night Clarke met Raven and Octavia at the Ark.  They sat around a table nursing their beers, and Clarke was already feeling it.   All the stress from the last few months was catching up with her, so a night out with the girls was just what the doctor ordered.  Raven being the doctor in this case.  Clarke hadn’t been out in a while, so if she got a little drunk, that was ok. Her two besties would make sure she got home safely.

“How’s the wedding planning going?  I’m your maid of honor, I’m supposed to be helping you.”

“I’m not even planning it, my mom and Finn’s mom are.  We picked a small church in Bellevue. The reception will be back at the country club.”

“Don’t you wanna be involved?” O asked.  “Sounds duplicitous to not be involved.”

“Nice, word of the day?” Raven asked.  O nodded.

Clarke was equally impressed and lost her train of thought.  “What?”

“Don’t you wanna be involved?”  Clarke just gave her a blank stare.  “In the wedding planning.”

“Oh right.  No.  I just started a new rotation at the hospital, I don’t have a lot of time to do it.  My surgical schedule has been crazy.”

“What about dresses, we need goddamn dresses, don’t we?  That’s it, tomorrow is dress shopping,” Raven declared.  “Would be goddamn duplicitous if we didn’t do some dress shopping.”  She smiled at O and held up two fingers.

“Only counts if I use it babe.”

Raven was disappointed.  “Sorry, thought I was helping.”

“Or we can all go down the aisle in scrubs,” Clarke said downing her third beer and starting her fourth.  “Duplicitously.”  Clarke had no clue what it exactly meant.  She was drunk.  “That’s three,” she said to O, holding up four fingers.

“Uh oh,” O said looking over Clarke’s shoulder.

“What?”

“Here comes trouble.  I gotta go wee wee.” Octavia caught the baby speak,  “I mean pee.  I’m gonna go urinate.  I’ll be right back.”

As O got up to go to the bathroom, Clarke felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around to look.  She groaned inside.  “Oh, hey.”  She couldn’t think of the woman’s name, but every time she was here she would come over and hit on her.

“Hi Clarke, long time no see, where you been?”

“Busy, ah, you, how you doin’?”

Raven decided to rescue her friend, she knew Clarke was not good with names when she was sober, let alone toasted.  “Hey Emori, what’s up girl?”

“Not much. Clarke you look great, can I buy you a drink?”

“I’m still nursing this one, but thanks.”

“Ok, but let me know if you need another.  Or need anything.  Ever.”  She winked and squeezed her shoulder.

“I will, thanks.”

“Like, sexually.”

“Ok, I got it, thanks.”

Emori walked away and Clarke rolled her eyes.  “Not very subtle, is she.”  However, it usually took a good ten minutes to shake her, so she wasn’t going to complain too much.  “God, why is she always here?”

“Cause she’s gay?  And this is a gay bar? She’s been pining over you for years.”

O came back from the bathroom with Lexa in tow, “hey look who I ran into.”

Clarke internally groaned again, nemesis number two.  Haunter of dreams and soon to be ruiner of a perfectly good evening.  

Lexa smiled at them, “Raven, and Clarke?”

Clarke gave a slight nod to her head, “Louann,” she said a little snidely.  She wasn’t prepared for the short burst of laughter that came from Lexa’s lips.  It was musical and joyous and Clarke was affected by it.  She briefly flashed back to her dream from the other night.  Best to leave those thoughts in her bedroom.

“Surprised to see you here.  Slumming it with the lesbians?” Lexa asked.

“Who’s Louann?” Raven asked to no one in particular, because no one was the only one paying attention to her.

“I’ll have you know that I come here a lot.”

“Yeah, we drag her here all the time, show her what she’s missing.  So, what’s been up with you?”  Octavia asked Lexa.

“Not too much, nothing exciting.”

“You still seeing that chick you met a few weeks ago?” Raven asked.

“We’re just casually dating.”

“You mean casually having sex?” Raven asked.

“Something like that.”  

“Pphhtt.”  They all looked at Clarke, who was looking at Lexa.  “Is that your thing?  Casual sex?” she asked as she tipped back her beer.

Lexa arched her one eyebrow up, “my thing?  No, I wouldn’t say it’s my thing.”

“Pphhtt.”  

“You got a hair in your mouth?” Raven asked Clarke, who just shook her head.

Lexa continued to give her attention to Clarke.  For some reason, she was happy to see her.  God knows why.  “So Clarke, how’ve you been?  Haven’t seen you in a while, I’m sure you’ve been missing me.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, “Oh terribly.”  Three beers in now and she was bursting with confidence.   She was ready to spar.  “As I’m sure you’ve missed me.  I mean, who do you have to yell at now?  I’m sure all your other clients know their dog’s name.”

“Hm, I don’t think I ever yelled at you.”

“Oh, you yelled.  At least that’s how I heard it.  In my head.” she said pointing to her head, and then tapping on it for effect.

Lexa smiled, realizing Clarke was a little tipsy.  Her blues eyes had a little sparkle to them tonight.  She spotted a little feistiness in them.  They were beautiful.  “How is Oliver by the way, when he’s at home?”

Clarke knew the dog was much better, but did she have to tell her that?  “He’s ok.  Like slightly better.  Just slightly.”

“Just slightly, ok.”  Lexa knew the opposite was true, since Octavia fed her information all the time.  “So, I guess daycare hasn’t been much help?”

“Very small help.  Very small improvement.  I finally got a new wallet, no thanks to you,” she said as she reached into her pocket, pulled out the new wallet and waved it at Lexa.

“Good, your hair looks nice.  Did you cut it?”

“I didn’t cut it, no,” Clarke said, misunderstanding the question.  “I went to the salon.”

“Oh, the Hair Cuttery?”

Raven waved down a waitress, “we need more beers.  And popcorn, do you have any popcorn?”

Clarke narrowed her eyes at Lexa, “very funny.  I’m sure you think you’re very funny.”

“Oh, I’m funny.  How’s the fiancé?  What’s his name?  Phil?”

“Finn.  His name is Finn.”

“Right, Finn.”

“He’s good.  We’re getting married in September.  And you’re not invited.”

“Oh damn, I had your gift all picked out.”

Raven had her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, watching.  The waitress returned with their beers and started passing them around.  “We didn’t have popcorn, but we had nuts, is that ok?”   Raven nodded and waved her off, not wanting to miss a minute of the action.

A slow song came on and O grabbed Raven, “c’mon, let’s go.”

Raven objected, “but this is just getting good.”

“No, you guys don't leave me please,” Clarke pleaded.  They ignored her.  She looked over at Lexa who had a damn half smile smirk on her face.

“Afraid to be left alone with me?”

“Oh please don't flatter yourself.  It's not you.”  Clarke spotted Emori on her way over.  “Oh god here she comes.”

Emori placed her hand on Clarke’s arm, “hey Clarke, come dance with me.”    

Clarke had made the drunken mistake of dancing with her one time.  One damn time two years ago.   And ever since then she had to fend her off whenever the music slowed down.  She usually had a litany of excuses prepared, but Lexa had her all befuddled.   She could perform the most delicate of surgeries, but it seemed she could only handle one annoying woman at a time.

Lexa got up and grabbed Clarke’s hand, “I'm sorry she promised this dance to me.”  She gave a small yank and before Clarke knew it she was being led onto the dance floor.  Lexa pulled her in close and they started dancing.  “You’re welcome,” she said in her ear.

“I certainly didn’t need you to rescue me,” Clarke said.  Lexa’s arms felt strong around her.  It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling.

Lexa laughed softly and leaned even closer to Clarke’s ear, her lips almost touching her lobe, “who was your friend back there?”

Clarke felt a little shiver go down her spine when Lexa’s breath grazed her ear.  She blamed it on the air conditioning.  “Nobody.”  She really didn’t feel like getting into it with her.  The less this woman knew about her the better.

“Nobody?  She certainly didn’t act like a nobody.  She acted like you guys danced before.”

“Maybe we did, maybe we didn’t.”  Lexa’s hips were pressing into hers now, and she was starting to feel a little warmth between her legs.  How was that even possible?

“You make a habit out of dancing with women?”

Don't say anything Clarke, don’t say anything.  “Sometimes.”  She bit her lip as soon as the words were out of her mouth.  Were those butterflies in her stomach?

“Oh.”  Lexa wasn't expecting that.  She usually could read people very well.  She didn’t get any kind of vibe from Clarke that she may be into women.  Her interest was piqued.  “Have you dated a woman before?”

Clarke was quick to reply, too quick.  “I don't wanna talk about it.”  She mentally bitch slapped herself.  Goddamn it Clarke, now you just gave yourself away. Beer was like truth serum for her.  And why was her heart beating so painfully fast?  She felt like her body was betraying her, reacting to the close proximity of this woman.

“So you did date a woman.”

“I didn't say that.”  Clarke tried to back peddle.  The heat was spreading to other parts of her body now.  Jesus christ, is this a hot flash?  When was her last period, was this early onset menopause?  

“You didn't have to.”

“Oh, so you’re a dog walker and a psychic?”

Lexa laughed again. “What was her name?”

“Megan.”  Oh my god.  It seemed she was powerless to stop the flow of information from her lips.

“Wow. I'm totally surprised.”  

Clarke looked up at her, instantly annoyed, “why?  You don't think a woman would want to go out with me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But that’s what you meant.”

“It’s just that, you seem a bit uptight for that.”

“Uptight?  I’m not uptight.”

“You’re a little uptight.”

“I’m stressed, not uptight.”

“How long ago were you with her?”

“It was years ago….” Clarke caught herself, “wait, I’m not talking about this with you.”  She was relieved when the slow song finally ended.  She broke off the contact and headed back to the table.  Raven and O were already sitting down.

“How was that?” Raven asked slyly.

“Shut up.”

Lexa came back over.  “Ladies, I’m gonna call it a night.  Great seeing you all, Clarke, thanks for the dance.  Good luck planning your wedding.”

“Later, let’s get together for dinner or something,” O said.

“Call me.”  And with that Lexa left.

Raven looked over at Clarke, “so how did you end up slow dancing with miss hottie?”

Clarke rolled her eyes at her, “oh please.  She’s not that hot.  It was either her or Emori, I took the lesser of two evils.”

“How was it?”

“What do you mean how was it?  It was a damn slow dance, we didn’t have sex.”

“Whoa, there you go again.  Sex and Lexa, always popping up.  Maybe you should hit that.”

“Excuse me?”

“Take her out for more than a slow dance.  Sow your wild oats before the wedding.  Or, maybe it’ll be a wake up call.”

“Please stop talking, where’s my beer, I need another beer.”  Clarke’s heart was still pounding from the slow dance and the heat was still between her legs.  She just chalked it up to not having sex for a while.  Fulfilling sex.  She rarely had an orgasm with Finn.  At first he was concerned, now it was just par for the course.  He would go to bed satisfied and Clarke would wonder how she could quietly finish the deed with her vibrator.  He also seemed disinterested in oral sex lately, and that pissed Clarke off.  Why was she getting married?  Because it was expected, that’s why.  And Clarke always did what was expected of her, never wanting to disappoint anyone, putting everyone’s feeling above her own.  One of these days she was going to grow a pair of lady balls and do what she wanted.  Someday.  When she had the energy.