Chapter Text
The sun hit Clarke’s face in the morning, and she rolled onto her back and opened her eyes. She rubbed them, then touched her lip gently, remembering last night and feeling a dull ache. She felt a dried, scabbed mess under her fingers, and she feared looking at the pillow to see if any of it had sloughed off in the middle of the night. She felt movement beside her, and she saw Lexa sitting up in bed, on her phone. She looked concentrated on something and hadn’t noticed Clarke wake up.
Clarke turned onto her side and grabbed her phone, looking at the time. Just past nine. It was a weird feeling to be waking up this late on a weekday, but classes were over for the term, and she was responsible for managing her own research schedule for her thesis. She rolled back onto her back and saw Lexa was now aware she was awake. She had put her phone down in her lap.
“Morning,” she said gently.
Clarke tried to smile, but it pulled at the scab on her lip, so she settled for a crinkled nose. Lexa reached a hand out to her chin.
“What? Did I bleed all over?” Clarke asked.
Lexa shook her head.
“No, but you’ve got a bruise.”
Clarke groaned. Just what she needed in her life. A bruised face.
“Great,” she muttered.
Lexa passed her fingers gently over the left side of Clarke’s chin and then removed it.
“It’s not too bad,” Lexa comforted her.
They lay silently in bed, not talking about what had happened last night but both thinking about it. Lexa replayed it over and over in her head, her feelings flip flopping between anger and fear, unable to decide which emotion to settle on. She still felt fury at Kyle’s words about Clarke. How could he have looked at her and seen anything other than someone who should be celebrated for her kindness, her cheerfulness, her enthusiastic approach to life, the way she took matters into her own hands and demanded happiness from the world? How dare he pass judgement on someone he didn’t know?
“I’m gonna say something that sounds kinda sarcastic or funny, but I really mean it,” Clarke said, bringing Lexa back in tune with the world.
“What?” Lexa asked curiously.
“Thanks for not killing him.”
Lexa looked down at her hands and breathed in a few times before looking back at Clarke.
“I told you I’d never hurt anyone. Or you.”
“I know. But even the best intentions don’t always lead to good results,” Clarke pointed out.
Lexa sat up a little straighter.
“The more you learn, the more you understand the wide range of possibilities your actions can have. That’s why I didn’t just punch him and let fate take the wheel.”
She showcased the difference in her approach to a fight from Finn’s, when he had punched an unsuspecting lout in a bar. He had been uncontrolled in a perfectly controllable situation. Lexa had been in an uncontrollable situation, and yet she had still managed to maintain control over it with discipline. Clarke nodded, understanding at least the surface of what she was saying.
“Well, I’m glad I have my own personal bodyguard now,” Clarke said, putting a hand on Lexa’s leg.
Lexa snorted in amusement.
“If I was any good at the job, you wouldn’t be lying here with a bloody lip and bruised chin.”
“Hey, I’m not sitting in the emergency department with a stab wound in my stomach. I think you did great.”
Lexa put a hand on Clarke’s arm, and they returned to silence.
An hour later, Clarke finally got up and messaged Professor Pike, asking if they could switch their in-person meeting to a phone call just for today. She didn’t feel like going out and parading her damaged face to the world for prying eyes to silently ask questions or worry about her. She stayed holed up at Lexa’s. It was a rainy, chilly spring day anyway, so she felt just fine staying in. Lexa had to go to some meetings that couldn’t be put off, and she left Clarke behind, begging her to keep her phone charged and to call her if she needed anything at all.
“Don’t open the door for anyone,” she said as she walked out the door.
She didn’t know if Kyle had been released from police hold yet, but she knew Lincoln would be on top of it. He would be her first call as she headed to the bus stop, safely underneath her umbrella.
“I won’t,” Clarke reassured her, and she closed the door, going back to finish getting dressed and start her day in.
She then did what she always did to process her thoughts after an upsetting or traumatizing event: she sat in the dining room and wrote.
******
Lexa met quickly with Indra about an article she was writing about tech companies’ HR practices. She wanted a blurb from Lexa about VLR’s approach to hiring and personnel shuffling, which Lexa was happy to provide. When they were finished, Lexa holed up in her office, Lincoln noticeably absence from their shared space, and had her next meeting – a virtual one with Raven.
Once they were connected, Lexa took a deep breath after Raven asked how things were going, and she launched into an explanation of what had happened last night.
To say that Raven freaked out was an understatement. She began yelling furiously, most of which Lexa couldn’t catch because she had to turn the volume down on her laptop so her eardrums didn’t explode. Raven then disappeared from view, and Lexa could faintly hear her yelling into what she presumed was her phone. A few minutes later, Raven came back into the camera’s field of view, and she looked like she had aged ten years in the space of three minutes.
“I swear to fucking god, Lexa,” she growled, then plunked back down in her seat and looked at the screen with sorrow. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”
This set Lexa off.
“Don’t start with that crap,” she said in a hard tone. “This is not your fault. This is Kyle’s fault.”
“Yeah, but if I’d just gotten rid of the problem, then-”
“Then nothing,” Lexa cut her off. “There’s no going back. It is what it is, and you did nothing wrong whether you left him or stayed with him.”
Raven simmered in her rage, and she clearly didn’t agree, but she didn’t fight Lexa any further on it.
“In the meantime, let’s make something of this mess and do some work. The more we accomplish, the higher we rise above it.”
Truthfully, Lexa didn’t feel like rising above it. She wasn’t the perfect paragon of emotional regulation she pretended to be. She wanted to stick Kyle in a room and beat him senseless. But it would do nobody any good, not even him. Succeeding at their project was the best way to win. Raven agreed that they shouldn’t dwell on her useless, soon-to-be-ex-husband anymore, and they tried to focus on the work at hand for the remaining half hour they had left in their meeting.
******
Lincoln came by the Globe late in the afternoon and found Lexa in the middle of a shareholder’s meeting for one of the companies she invested in. He caught her half paying attention while doodling on a piece of paper she was supposed to be writing notes on. She straightened up and stopped drawing the minute she saw him walk in. She took an earbud out.
“It’s just a quarterly update, but I already went through the numbers they shared with me a few days ago. Nothing much happening.”
Lincoln went to sit at his desk and let her finish up listening to the presentation. Once she was done, he turned towards her.
“We need to talk about security,” he said, and Lexa sighed because they had had this conversation a thousand times before.
“No, not yet,” she said, shaking her head.
He refused to listen.
“You’re really on the map now, and something like last night shouldn’t have happened. Kyle should never have been able to get to your door like that.”
Lexa gave him a hard, serious look and spoke.
“There’s going to come a time when it’s inevitable that I need some kind of security detail, but not yet. I want to live life as normally as possible while I still can. My face isn’t out there widely, so there’s no reason to go that far yet. Once my face is really plastered in the media, then I’ll get security.”
She was adamant about it, because the minute things changed and she needed people trailing her to keep her safe, the lives of everyone around her would change. Clarke had just gotten through four months of a two-year school program, and no matter how much she needed to keep her business decisions separate from her personal life, she refused to ruin Clarke’s attempt to build a life of her own. She knew that if she suddenly had security, Clarke would be drawn into it, and her life would also be affected. Endangered.
Or at least she assumed. Maybe once Lexa’s life got so complicated she needed a bodyguard, Clarke would decide to check out. Maybe she didn’t want to share that life. Maybe-
Nope, Lexa told herself. She was catastrophizing because last night had terrified her. But there was no reason to think Clarke wanted to put any distance between them. She breathed a few times.
Clarke wouldn’t run away from a challenge. She’s made it clear she wants to be in my life. She’s in it for the long haul. Stop assuming the worst.
She repeated these phrases in her head like mantras.
“At least let’s install some security cameras around your house. I don’t like the thought of someone being there undetected.”
Lexa looked down at her hands. She hated the idea of cameras. While it would be good to catch intruders, it also meant she lost a modicum of her own privacy.
“No,” she said firmly. “No security, no cameras. Not yet. I promise I won’t fight it once we get to that juncture. But we’re not there yet.”
Lincoln sighed judgementally, but he accepted Lexa’s answer. She complained to him sometimes that Clarke was stubborn, but she was just as bad, if not worse. He didn’t know how those two managed to make any decisions together without it coming to blows.
Lexa was relieved when Lincoln stopped pursuing security options. He had brought it up before, but this time it came on the heels of a very real and dangerous attack. Quietly, she turned back to her laptop and began working on a proposal while Lincoln sat and watched her for a minute before turning to his work.
******
Over the next few weeks, details about Kyle slowly came out, and a clearer picture came into focus. The police were circumspect with what they shared, which was next to nothing, but Lexa and Lincoln knew Raven and Victoria, and together they were able to piece together a plausible scenario of what had happened.
Kyle had been upset about the alloy he worked on being shared openly with no direct financial compensation, despite the handing over of the patent coming with a guaranteed paint sale. That much was clear because he had said as much to Lexa. Back in November, when Lexa and Raven had been working on Victoria to let them gain access to the alloy, he had expressed his displeasure at the idea. When he met Lexa at the dinner held at Raven’s house, he realized he knew her. He had the unfortunate capacity to remember every face he had ever seen, so he quickly associated Clarke’s name and face with Lexa’s when their eyes met. He was holding a double edged sword in that moment. He was faced with someone who could tell his wife he was a philanderer, but also someone he could try and unsettle. He had never been directly involved in discussions about Lexa, but he had overheard enough phone conversations between Raven and Becca that he knew of Becca and Lexa’s history. So when he heard Clarke wasn’t coming to dinner, he invited Becca, most likely hoping to unnerve Lexa enough in front of Victoria so that she would fail the “kind business” test.
After the successful campaign that Lexa ran at the dinner, Kyle had subtly tried to sway Victoria’s opinion against VLR, claiming the following Monday that Lexa was known for becoming inappropriately involved with her company staff and slept with inappropriately aged students. Victoria told Lexa that she had believed Kyle because she had no reason otherwise. She had known him for five years, and he had fooled her, just like he had fooled everyone around him. Victoria told Lexa that her interest in meeting Clarke for a separate dinner was because Kyle had directly told her that Lexa was sleeping with a student who worked for her. He had left out all the context, such as Clarke’s age-appropriateness and the fact that she didn’t actually work for Lexa. She had of course quickly figured out Kyle’s information was incorrect after meeting Clarke, but she had taken it as a miscommunication, not malevolence.
When his tactic didn’t work, and Victoria handed over the patent to VLR, that’s when Kyle had started siphoning money out of the company. The details about that were vague – Victoria was happy to share exactly what Kyle had talked about with her, but she kept mum about how Kyle had stolen. The police had their forensic accountants going through the case, and she was forbidden from speaking about it.
Then when Raven finally snapped and kicked him out, he took the nuclear option and went to Lexa’s house with a knife. What Lexa wasn’t sure about was how far he had intended to take it. Did he want to kill her or simply threaten her? At the end of the day, though, it didn’t matter. He had hurt Clarke, and Lexa felt that no prison sentence could ever be enough punishment for his actions.
In the days that followed Kyle’s initial arrest, he was released on bail, but he violated one of the conditions by going to Raven’s house to try and talk to her. She called the police, and they re-arrested him immediately. He was not granted bail a second time.
******
Lexa lay in bed alone on a Tuesday night in mid-May wondering what would happen once Kyle was tried and (hopefully) convicted. His crimes wouldn’t carry a long sentence, as he hadn’t done any lasting damage. Maybe by the time he got out, Lexa would already have that security detail Lincoln so desperately wanted to hire for her, and she sighed. There was no way to get around what life would inevitably come to.
She felt her phone buzz and she grabbed it from her bedside table.
Clarke [11:01]: You up?
Lexa grinned.
Lexa [11:02]: Barely. I’m in bed. What’s up?
Clarke [11:03]: I’m outside your house.
Lexa jolted up in surprise, and she got out of bed, heading downstairs to unlock the door. Clarke grinned as she walked in and put her bag down, grabbing Lexa’s hands and looking at her.
“Bet you weren’t expecting a visit from me.”
“No, I thought you were out with your friends.”
“I was,” Clarke said, pulling Lexa in towards her and kissing her. “But we kinda wound down early and I decided to surprise you.”
“Colour me surprised,” Lexa said amusedly, and she dragged Clarke upstairs so they could get into bed together.
She really needs to take my spare key, she thought.
This time her thoughts didn’t embarrass her. It was an appropriate step at an appropriate time. She’d broach the subject with Clarke soon. For now, she had a goddess in her bed, and she was going to take advantage of that fact.
******
The following week, Becca met with Raven and Lexa at Lexa’s house to inspect Becca’s latest work. She had finalized her program, and it was ready to start using. Becca took them through a thorough demonstration, and without even asking Lexa’s opinion, Raven stated firmly that they would roll the program out to a few engineers on her team to start using. She could see it helping enormously in their space habitat plans. Raven and Becca devolved into excited, fast-paced conversation, and Lexa tuned it out as she felt her phone buzz. The last thing she vaguely remembered was Raven and Becca leaving the dining room to go into the kitchen as Becca told Raven about her latest projects.
“It’s a microchip that regulates bodily functions like blood pressure and heart rate but also enhances memory. You insert it under the skin…”
Lexa hummed, smiling down at her phone, losing track of Becca’s ramble. Anya had texted her a picture of a beach in Aruba, and now all Lexa could think about was taking a vacation. Maybe she could convince Clarke to go somewhere with her. Somewhere tropical and warm, where they could lay on a beach and ignore their phones and have hot, sweaty sex in a bungalow by the ocean. She started searching flights, and she let herself daydream as Becca and Raven walked off, planning the future.
******
Kyle pled no contest to second degree assault, and he was sentenced to a year and half in jail for his attack. To add insult to injury, Raven served him divorce papers the same day he was sentenced. It took a while for her heart to heal. Lexa kept her busy with work, and they took a few road trips out to some of their local manufacturers, opting to drive together, giving them an opportunity to both let their hair down and have long, meandering conversations about whatever they wanted. It helped Raven immensely, and they got to meet and spend time with people who were doing important work for them.
Clarke had woken up Monday morning in Lexa’s bed as Lexa was getting ready for one such trip, and she didn’t want to move.
“Just stay if you want. I’ll leave my spare key with you.”
Clarke murmured something akin to “ok”, and she fell back asleep as Lexa finished getting dressed and left. When Clarke woke up an hour later, she went down to the kitchen to get coffee and found a fresh pot brewed and a note with a key on it.
Here’s a spare key. Have a nice day.
-LvL
Clarke smiled and basked in a comfortable silence as she sipped her morning coffee.
Her day wasn’t all relaxation. She had planned to spend most of it working on her short story collection. The project had taken on a different dimension in the past month, because not only was she revising her old and new stories, but she had also started to illustrate it. She had begun with a silly doodle one rainy Tuesday night, and after a few days, once she realized the doodle was based on one of her stories, she more purposely sat down and produced more drawings inspired by her stories. She spent most of her week reading and writing, but once or twice a week she would spend the afternoon drawing. She hadn’t told anyone yet that she was illustrating her stories, not even Lexa. She kept the drawings in a folder with all her other scribbles. She knew Lexa would never go poking around in her things without permission, so she felt safe hiding her work in plain sight.
She was deeply enthralled in her work all day, stopping a few times to eat or drink, and one time to go for a walk around the neighbourhood because the weather was nice. As the end of the day approached, she was sitting on the floor at the coffee table in the living room and drawing when she heard her name called. She looked up and saw Lexa walking across the living room. She perked up, dropped her pencil, and stood up.
“Lexa,” she said, feeling light and happy and drawing her into an embrace, kissing her like she hadn’t seen her in ten years.
Lexa laughed into it, wondering what had gotten Clarke in such a good mood. She drew back and Clarke looked at her watch. Eight o’clock? When did it become eight o’clock? She had just sat down seemingly twenty minutes ago after getting back from her walk, yet hours had actually passed.
“What’s got you happy?” Lexa asked.
“Nothing. I just missed you,” Clarke said with a grin, and she knelt down to clean up her mess on the coffee table.
Lexa walked over to the table and sat down on the floor, taking one of the pieces of paper in her hand and studying it.
“What are these?” she asked as she saw Clarke scramble to put away her scraps of paper.
Clarke stopped and sat back on her heels. She supposed the secret had been revealed now. There was no point trying to hide it.
“Just some stuff I threw together for my stories,” she said quietly, trying not to make a big deal about it.
“Can I see?”
Clarke leaned against the table, and while they sat on the floor together, Clarke took Lexa on a tour of what she had worked on today and her plans for her book.
It was moments like these, as Clarke relaxed into her explanation of what she’d been working on the past month, where she felt like she had found what she didn’t know she had been looking for. Like she was home. She sat with someone she could be entirely honest with, who she could share her hopes and dreams with and not fear being judged. She saw in Lexa a staunch supporter of whatever she wanted to do, whether or not she understood it or even agreed with it. And unlike people she had dated before, Lexa had a strength of character that assured Clarke that she would not vacillate in her morals, would not be two-faced, would not suddenly pull the rug out from under Clarke. She was uncomplicated but so complex that it baffled Clarke. They had come a long way in a year and four months.
“... and this one is Raymond, from Rainy Winter,” she said as she pointed to a figure shrouded in darkness and sitting on a rock by a cliff. “He’s vaguely based on Murphy.”
Lexa studied the picture. She could see the resemblance.
“Hey,” Lexa said suddenly.
Clarke looked over at her, and Lexa was thumbing through her pile of drawings again.
“Mhm?”
Lexa looked up at her seriously.
“Do you take commissions?”
“Huh?”
“Your drawings. Do you think you could do some work for me? Us?”
Clarke shrugged.
“I dunno. What kind of work?”
******
A few days later, on a Thursday, Raven and Clarke sat side-by-side in Lexa’s dining room with papers, pencils, and diagrams laid out all over the surface. Clarke was focused on her large piece of paper, drawing in pencil as Raven mumbled directions to her. Slowly, a picture of a space station took shape. It had so many different shapes and textures to it – parts of it jutted out sharply, but there were also smooth cylinders that had no edges and spun around (Raven explained to Clarke that this was how you could simulate gravity in space), communications towers, solar panels, and windows. It looked domineering and powerful, but somehow also realistic.
“I know it’s still just theoretical, but this edge here should be more rounded out. That’s how the materials will fit together because it makes it easier to apply the paint.”
“Mhm,” Clarke acknowledged cheerfully, taking another pass at the corner of the space station she was drawing according to the specs Raven had given her.
“Now, we’ve only been focusing on the practical things, but do you think you could give the registration number a nice font?”
“A nice font?” Clarke asked, raising an eyebrow. “What does-”
“I don’t know,” Raven said impatiently, waving a hand. “Just make it look pretty. I’m not good with this visual arts sort of thing.”
Clarke chuckled, and she wrote out the registration number in what she imagined was a nice font.
“Perfect,” Raven said, looking pleased as she lifted the piece of paper with both hands and looked at it in its entirety. “Absolutely perfect.”
She smiled at Raven.
“Now, how about drawing me in a spacesuit? I’ve always wanted to do a spacewalk.”
Clarke laughed, and even though Raven was joking, she picked up her pencil and started sketching out what she could see in her mind. Lexa came home to the two of them snickering over a series of pictures Clarke had done showing various people they knew in their daily life on the space station, including Octavia piloting a space shuttle, Lincoln working an airlock, and Lexa standing in front of a crowd, making an announcement with a view of the earth through a window behind her. They all wore simple jumpsuits Clarke had imagined people working on a space station would wear.
“What is this?” Lexa asked, picking up a picture that looked suspiciously like her in a space jumpsuit labelled “Cap’n”, then grabbing the picture of Raven floating in space.
“Oh, that was just some extra stuff we did,” Clarke mumbled as Raven quickly shoved the rendering of the space station in front of Lexa.
Lexa looked at it for a second but then returned her attention to the individual characters Clarke had drawn out.
“This is amazing,” she said in awe. “I mean, a little misguided to think I’d be the captain of a space station, but nice suits.”
Clarke grinned at Raven and then looked back at Lexa.
“I figured since you’re always in charge.”
Lexa looked down at her.
“What about you? Where’s the chief chronicler in all this?”
Clarke smirked.
“One self portrait coming right up,” she said.
She jokingly drew a stick figure holding a book and a comically oversized pencil. In the meantime, Lexa turned again to the rendering of the space station Clarke and Raven had worked on, and she drew a finger around it, tracing all the parts and studying it carefully. She read the caption at the bottom of the page.
Vega.
“Perfect,” she said quietly.
One day, a thousand people would call this a safe haven. A home.
******
It was Anya’s birthday on the last Saturday of May, and Lexa and Lincoln dragged Clarke and Octavia to her house for the annual bash she threw. She disliked the attention it forced on her, but she loved giving people an excuse to get together and let loose, so she tolerated the incessant happy birthdays and gifts that were brought over.
Lincoln and Octavia had finally gotten over their mutual shyness and were now solidly in a fiery romance. Clarke teased Octavia that now she was the one who was never free on Fridays. They mingled with the crowd, met new people, and before they knew it, they were sitting on the couch with Anya, talking and laughing uncontrollably as alcohol lubricated their evening.
Lincoln came to cart Octavia off when he saw her nodding off. Clarke helped her up, giggling and tipsy herself, and she presented Octavia to her boyfriend.
“Text me when she gets home,” she ordered Lincoln.
Lincoln nodded seriously, and he took a sleepy Octavia’s hand and led her away. Clarke went back to sit with Anya and kept up the merry chatter.
Lexa was busy catching up with Nyko, who was Anya’s on-again, off-again boyfriend of five years. He was a burly man who rivalled Gustus’ size, but who could barely stand to handle a knife to cut a tomato in case he hurt the tomato. He had a gentle soul. He was a pediatrician by training and a pacifist by nature. He and Lexa spent time in a bubble, talking soberly while everyone around them devolved into chaos.
At just past two o’clock in the morning, Lexa felt her eyes drooping, and she saw Nyko also losing steam. The crowds around them had thinned substantially.
“Time to call it a night,” Lexa said, and Nyko nodded, standing up and helping her up from where she sat sleepily in the kitchen.
They both walked over to the living room, where they saw Anya and Clarke bursting into raucous laughter about something, Anya throwing an arm around Clarke and practically wrestling her into her side like they were old mates of twenty years.
“You two are drunk,” Lexa accused them as she stood with Nyko watching them.
“Aye,” Anya said lowly.
“Arrrr,” Clarke growled, raising her glass and clinking it against Anya’s.
Lexa walked over to Clarke, plucked her drink out of her hand, and took her by the upper arm, helping her up to her feet.
“You’re coming with me, pirate.”
Clarke started to protest, and she reached out for Anya, who reached back. Their fingertips just barely touched, but Lexa yanked Clarke away quickly.
“I never should have introduced you two,” she muttered.
“I love her,” Clarke said through misty eyes, staring longingly at Anya.
“We are soulmates!” Anya called out.
Lexa rolled her eyes and Nyko cleared his throat.
“Oh, hi Nyko,” Anya deadpanned, looking at him as if she’d forgotten he existed.
Clarke and Anya then exchanged amused looks, and they laid off their exaggerated behaviour. They weren’t that drunk. Clarke hooked a foot around Lexa’s ankle and suddenly pulled her into a precarious-looking position. She was just tipsy enough to do silly things like that.
“Get it, girl,” Anya whooped from the couch, where Nyko had now sat beside her, and Clarke looked back at her, winking and sneaking a hand down to grope Lexa’s bottom.
But Lexa caught her hand before she could, and she held onto it firmly. Despite her move being foiled, it made Clarke feel warm because she loved holding Lexa’s hand. Lexa gently unhooked Clarke’s leg from her own, and she led her to the door.
“I’ll see you later, Anya. Text me in the morning if you’re not dead.”
She gave Nyko a pointed look as if to put the responsibility on him to remember.
“How are you gonna get any sleep with that hot sidepiece you got beside you?” Anya called out to Lexa. “I’d never get any sleep with her lying there.”
Clarke grinned at the objectification, feeling complimented rather than insulted. Lexa groaned.
“Your boyfriend is sitting right beside you, Anya,” she responded pointedly.
Anya looked over at Nyko with a serious face, then cracked a smile, leaning her head against his shoulder.
Lexa harumphed. Anya wasn’t wrong. It was hard to sleep beside Clarke sometimes because she just wanted to stare and touch all the time. But this was not the appropriate forum to discuss such things.
“Byeee!” Clarke cheered to Anya, waving enthusiastically, and then Lexa dragged her into a car that was waiting for them.
They made it home without Clarke trying to shove her hands up Lexa’s shirt too many times. Lexa spared the driver an apologetic look as he politely tried to ignore what was happening in the back seat. The minute they stepped into the house, Clarke shoved Lexa up against the closed door and kissed her wildly. Lexa let it continue for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling, but when she felt Clarke’s wandering hands, she quickly took control, grabbing Clarke’s wrists and pushing her away gently.
“Come on, Clarke. You’re drunk. Let’s get to bed.”
“Yes, bed,” Clarke said hungrily.
Lexa raised a finger and pointed it up, demanding Clarke’s undivided attention.
“To sleep. There will be no sex tonight.”
Clarke’s lower lip quivered.
“Not even a little?”
Lexa shook her head steadfastly.
“Not even a little.”
“Ok,” Clarke said, looking glum, then looking up questioningly. “Can there be cuddling?”
Lexa nodded seriously.
“Yes, lots.”
Clarke was satisfied with that, and they got ready for bed, Clarke letting Lexa get in behind her and hold her, partly to have more control over the tipsy girl in case she forgot the no sex rule, and partly just because she liked holding Clarke like this. She didn’t have to worry about anything untoward happening, though, because Clarke was snoring softly within seconds of her head hitting the pillow – her pillow on her side of the bed that Lexa no longer slept on, even when Clarke didn’t stay over, because it wouldn’t be right. Lexa let the sound lull her into a deep sense of comfort. Clarke filled the house with her presence, her breaths, her laughs, her groans, and it just felt right to have her there.
Lexa squeezed her tighter and smiled. She’d do it tomorrow. Sunday. She’d ask her to move in again tomorrow. Or maybe the day after. Tonight, they would just sleep.
******
Sunday came and went. Clarke was sluggish all day, and Lexa left her to relax while she went about her usual domestic Sunday errands. They had dinner together at night, having barely seen each other all day but feeling like that was ok because it was ending like it should: together. On Monday night, they met up at Lexa’s again, preparing dinner together and planning a road trip for next month.
“Are you finally going to turn off your phone and relax? You haven’t taken a day off since Christmas,” Clarke said, mildly concerned as she dried a knife and placed it back in its holder while Lexa wiped the counter.
Lexa shook her head.
“It’s ok. I love what I do,” she said. “Besides, I get plenty of down time to make it worth it.”
Clarke pursed her lips together.
“I’m gonna hide all your devices one of these days so you’re forced to chill.”
“I can’t,” Lexa said quietly. “I have a lot to make up for.”
“Huh? What are you making up for?” Clarke asked with a frown.
“There are no ethical billionaires, Clarke.”
Clarke chortled.
“Well, then, you’re the closest we have to one. Seriously Lexa. Are you joking right now? You purposely gave up your family business and started a company to save humanity from itself. Not only that, but you’re an atrociously perfect girlfriend in a thousand different ways.”
Lexa snorted.
“I’m an overly-emotional person who gets too deep into things and pushes people away by holding onto them too hard. How is that perfect?”
Clarke walked over slowly and took Lexa in her arms, pressing her whole body up against her and giving her a tight hug. Lexa returned the hug wholeheartedly, squeezing gently.
“See?” Clarke said, squeezing back. “Perfect. Perfect hugs, perfect kisses, perfect everything.”
“Move in with me?” Lexa asked quietly into Clarke’s ear.
Clarke squeezed tighter and then laughed.
“Perfect timing.”
Lexa waited a beat before speaking again.
“Is that a yes?”
Clarke laughed some more.
******
Six months later
Lexa and Raven sat staring at the laptop, listening to the voice coming from its speaker.
“Preliminary telemetry is good. All capsule systems functioning regularly. Pressure maintained. Radiation is nominal.”
They exchanged an excited glance where they sat together in Lexa’s dining room.
“Slight list to the left. Thrusters are compensating. Orbital path maintained. Capsule temperature holding at twenty point one degrees. Radiation still nominal.”
“Goddamn,” Raven said in awe. “It works.”
“Wait for a few more orbits,” Lexa said quietly, as if trying not to break the spell the voice coming through the speakers had over them.
They practically held their breath as the voice narrated another entire rotation around the earth over the next hour and a half. There was no change to the read outs. The small capsule they had built with the 225-T19 alloy and coated with Omni T3 thermal paint had been launched into space by a commercial spaceflight company for a hefty price, but it was worth it for the data they were collecting. The alloy had lightened their load significantly, and the paint had compensated for their crude air circulation system. Pound for pound, this was one of the most efficient capsules ever shot into space. It was just big enough for one person to fit inside, although it was unmanned, and it would remain unmanned for this phase of testing.
They toasted with their mugs of coffee and placed a call to their head of the project, who was on site in Florida for the launch. They were all going to be up all night observing the results.
******
On the first of December, a black van, driven by Octavia’s brother pulled up into the driveway in front of Lexa’s house. Clarke got out of the passenger seat, joined quickly by Bellamy, and they went to the back door to open it up. Nothing appeared to have shifted while they’d driven the twenty-seven minute journey in bumper-to-bumper traffic.
Behind them, a car honked five times. The two looked over and saw Octavia driving a car with Lincoln, Wells, Harper, and Murphy piled into the seats. They parked in front of the curb, blocking the van in, and all got out.
“Thanks again for coming to help,” Clarke said gratefully.
They all grabbed various boxes and bags from the back of the van, bringing them into the house where Lexa opened the door welcomingly. She directed them to her study, where they could put the small things down, and then pointed them to where the bigger things could go.
Clarke went to stand beside Lexa for a few seconds, getting out of the way as Wells and Bellamy walked by carrying Clarke’s couch. They were instructed to take it down to the basement.
“Well,” she sighed. “If it doesn’t work out, at least Bellamy can drive the getaway van for me.”
Lexa pushed her playfully, and Clarke staggered exaggeratedly.
“It’ll be fine,” Lexa said overconfidently to mask her nervous fear that things would fall apart from this point on.
Clarke walked off to grab a box.
“Put those muscles to work, von Lox,” she called over her shoulder. “These boxes aren’t going to move themselves.”
Lexa sighed contentedly. Her nervous energy was now replaced by excitement. Somehow Clarke had a way of bringing out her biggest vulnerabilities and then making them disappear with humour. It was so weird that this space she had had for years was now going to belong to someone else, too. She felt like it already did, but now it was official. There was no going back.
She went out to the van and grabbed a box. It was heavy, and she saw it was labelled “books”. She then looked at the twelve similarly labelled boxes and grinned. Clarke was just a big nerd with a library that would surely grow with the space she was expanding into. They were perfect for each other.
As a thank you for the help, Clarke ordered an egregious amount of pizza, and Lexa supplied all the drinks for their friends, except for the two designated drivers. They made merry for a few hours until it was time to wind down and go their separate ways. Soon, just the two inhabitants of the house were left sitting in the kitchen, looking at each other.
“Welcome home,” Lexa said softly.
Clarke groaned.
“Stop,” she said. “So cheesy. I can’t.”
Lexa grinned into it.
“Come on, what do you want to do on your first official night here?”
“Honestly?” Clarke said with a yawn. “I just want to sleep.”
Lexa rolled her eyes and stood up, stretching her hand out.
“Then let’s go sleep.”
Clarke took her hand, and they went upstairs to get changed and ready to sleep. They curled up in bed, Lexa hanging onto Clarke from behind.
“Unpacking party tomorrow?” Clarke asked.
“Mhm,” Lexa said, kissing behind Clarke’s ear tenderly. “But we don’t have to rush. We have the whole weekend to work on it. And maybe we can go to Ikea on Sunday for some extra storage boxes.”
Clarke stretched her neck out and shivered.
“Why does the thought of that turn me on so much?”
“Because we’re boring now.”
Clarke chuckled and clung onto Lexa’s arm tightly, but she did nothing to convince her otherwise.
“We’re boring now,” she agreed.
They fell asleep peacefully.
******
Late the next morning, Clarke realized she hadn’t let her mother know she was moving. It wasn’t strictly necessary, but she figured if there was an emergency, she should know where Clarke lived. She texted her mother an address followed up by an explanation.
Clarke [11:06]: Hi mom. I moved out of my apartment. Thought you should know my new address just in case
At that moment, the doorbell rang. Lexa went to check who it was, and in walked Lincoln with Clarke’s duffel bag.
“Clarke left this in Octavia’s mom's car,” he announced, handing the bag over to Lexa.
Clarke had walked over to see who was at the door, and she thanked Lincoln while looking distractedly at her phone as it had just buzzed.
Mom [11:10]: You bought a house?
She could almost hear the incredulity in her mom’s voice, and she smiled in amusement. She wandered off into the kitchen to text back while Lexa chatted with Lincoln.
Clarke [11:15]: No, I’m moving in with someone
No response for a few minutes. Clarke sat at the kitchen counter and wrote a second message.
Clarke [11:18]: The one whose coffee table you really liked
Her phone started to ring.
Oh god, no, she thought, terrified, but she steeled herself and answered. They hadn’t spoken on the phone in probably three years at this point.
“Hi,” she croaked.
“Hi Clarke,” her mother said.
There was a deafening silence between the two until Abby broke it.
“Thanks for letting me know about the move. I’ll make a note in my address book.”
Clarke nodded, then realizing her mother couldn’t see her.
“I just told you, you know, in case you need to find me.”
“Mhm,” Abby acknowledged.
Another moment of silence.
“And I’ll get some intel on the coffee table for you, ok?”
To her delight, she heard her mom give a faint laugh.
Why was she so delighted to make her mom, who had kicked her out of the house six years ago, laugh? It was a confusing feeling that she couldn’t parse.
“Please do,” Abby said. “I’ve been jealous of it all this time.”
Clarke smiled despite her confusion. She was about to end the call on that upbeat note, knowing her mother was probably busy and distracted, when Abby took a breath.
“How’s school?”
And Clarke expelled her breath suddenly. Her mom wanted to talk. She wasn’t antsy to get away like Clarke had thought she’d be.
“It’s good. I’m finished my coursework and now I’m just doing my thesis and TAing for the next half,” Clarke said, hesitating before continuing. “I’m also working on a book of short stories I’ve compiled and I’m gonna start shopping around for a publisher.”
“You know, you used to write a lot when you were really young. Crazy adventure stories, usually about you and your friends.”
“I did?” Clarke asked.
She had a vague recollection of it, but she wasn’t tight on the details.
“Mhm. I kept some of it,” Abby admitted.
Clarke suddenly froze up. Her mom had kept her work? Her creative work?
“And your drawings. You used to illustrate them with these really colourful pictures. You were always very talented."
Tears started to gather at Clarke’s eyes. She did her best to control her breathing. She heard Lincoln and Lexa walk into the kitchen, and she turned around and exited through the other doorway so they couldn’t see or hear her. She settled on a chair in the dining room.
“I’ve been illustrating my short stories for my book,” she mumbled, cursing her nose for running and desperately controlling her urge to sniffle.
“Really? Well, I’m not surprised.”
Clarke put an elbow on the table and held her forehead up on her hand, her tears now dripping off her cheeks and on to the table.
“Yeah,” she croaked.
Her mom took a breath.
“You know, I’ll pull them out when I get back home and see if I send you some pictures of your old work. It’s really quite good. And you were only nine.”
Clarke closed her eyes tight. She had been nine years old once, and she had written and drawn stories that her mom had probably worshipped as if they were rare Rembrandts. She apparently still worshipped them because she had kept them safe and sound after all these years.
“Thanks, mom,” Clarke said.
She sniffed very slightly so her nose wouldn’t run too much. Her mom might have noticed the sound. She might have not.
“Will you send me one of your stories to read?”
Clarke swallowed and she choked as more tears spilled out on the table.
“Yeah,” she said, her voice now obviously very affected, but both of them trying to pretend that it wasn’t. “I’ll send you something tomorrow.”
There was silence as Clarke closed her eyes and waited for her mother to say something. Anything.
“Ok, Clarke. Well, have a good day. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye, mom.”
Clarke looked at her phone, and she paused before ending the call. She scooted back into the chair and put her wet cheek directly into her puddle of tears, breathing in and out and as she tried to stop crying. Then she felt a hand on her back. She recognized the hand. She didn’t move as she heard Lexa pull up a chair beside her, and the hand stayed on her back. She sighed and let herself finish crying, the hand on her back soothing her gently, drawing big circles and occasionally squeezing her side. She raised her head after about ten minutes, and Lexa was sitting there with a pleasant look on her face. A loving, adoring look.
Clarke wiped her sleeves against her cheeks and leaned back in her chair.
“Where’s Lincoln?”
“He left,” Lexa said, not elaborating further.
Clarke swallowed and looked at the puddle of tears on the table. She rubbed a hand uselessly over it, only managing to spread the puddle around.
“My mom wants me to send her one of my stories,” she said to Lexa’s look of surprise. “And she’s still super jealous of your coffee table.”
Lexa couldn’t help herself and she laughed.
“Are you ok?”
Clarke looked at her helplessly.
“I dunno. It’s my mom,” she said.
She didn’t understand it, but as angry as she was to have been dumped by her own mother, a part of her was still fiercely attached to her. All she wanted was her mother’s approval, and she seemed to have finally gotten it again after six years.
Lexa nodded.
“Family is complicated.”
Clarke sniffled and sat back in her chair.
“Family is complicated,” she agreed.
They were family now, too. Neither spoke it aloud, but they each knew it. It made having to deal with the complexities of their lives easier knowing that they now had each other to come home to.
“I need to call Octavia,” Clarke said, straightening out her shirt and strengthening her voice as she sat up.
Lexa leaned over and gave her a kiss on her damp cheek, standing up and leaving the dining room so Clarke had privacy. She went to the kitchen to get another cup of coffee and then went to the living room to read. She was working her way through some of Clarke’s book recommendations, and she always looked forward to their impromptu discussions at their little book club of two. She sighed as she dug into the new book, and in the background, she could hear the soft tones of Clarke’s voice speaking to Octavia on the phone. She couldn’t make out the words, nor did she want to. Just feeling Clarke’s presence in the house had a calming effect on her, and instead of reading, she fell asleep.
She was awoken half an hour later by a ping. She furrowed her eyebrows and looked at her phone to see a forwarded donation acknowledgement email from her foundation. She had hired accountants to take care of processing all donations, and she only looked at the numbers once in a while to ensure there was a steady flow of interest and money, so she was surprised to see something pop up about it in her personal email. The forwarded email had come from Monty Green. He had written a short note to her.
Lexa,
You may have broken my heart, but I still know what’s good for the planet. Here’s ten million dollars a year for your project.
Kindly,
Monty Green
P.S. Just kidding about my heart. I’m fine. Reach out anytime. Dinner and drinks with you were fun.
She scrolled down to the forwarded email and saw the ten million dollar figure there, along with the “annual donation” box checked off. She couldn’t help but chuckle. Monty had actually been the perfect gentleman the couple of times they had gone out: polite, caring, funny, and he actually listened to her when she spoke. She had never reached out to him again to explain why she’d run out of their last date together, never explained the surprise appearance of Clarke at the restaurant or her need to run after her. He didn’t seem to be someone who would hold a grudge. He would make a good friend if she wanted. Besides, the connection between their families via their mothers now felt like a comfort instead of an obligation. She began to write back a quick email. She would invite him to dinner next week. She and Clarke would host together.
******
“Merry Christmas, Clarke,” Lexa murmured as she rubbed her eyes.
Clarke was already awake and looking down at her over the edge of her phone.
“Took you long enough to wake up. Don’t you know Christmas is for getting up stupid early and not being able to get back to sleep?”
Lexa smirked and turned over onto her back, resting her head in Clarke’s lap.
“Yeah, if you’re eight and only excited for presents.”
Clarke grinned and reached to the bedside table and pulled out an envelope.
“Here,” she said, putting the envelope on Lexa’s chest. “This is your present. Get excited.”
Lexa took it and opened it, her head still laying in Clarke’s lap, and she pulled out a folded piece of lined paper that had clearly been torn out of one of Clarke’s school notebooks. She unfolded the paper, noting the jagged edges amusedly. The paper contained portraits of various people arranged in an amorphous cloud shape in the centre of the page. She studied their faces carefully. She could identify Clarke’s friends and family, including herself.
“That’s the cover art for my book.”
Lexa shifted her eyes from the paper to Clarke to the paper again.
“I’m there,” she said quietly in awe, pointing to her own face on the paper as if Clarke hadn’t noticed she’d included her in the drawing.
“You are,” Clarke said, her eyes twinkling. “But that’s it. That’s the actual cover art you’re holding in your hands. I’ve already had it scanned into a vector file, but I wanted you to have the original.”
Lexa put the paper down reverently on her chest and looked up at Clarke.
“I love it,” she said. “Thank you.”
Clarke’s book was compiled and ready to go the minute her shopping spree for a publisher was concluded. She had a good feeling from the latest meeting she’d had before everyone had shut down for the holidays.
Lexa smiled, and she reached her other hand down to Clarke’s shin, squeezing it at an awkward angle as she lay on her back. She had read Clarke’s compilation a number of times at this point, offering her amateur opinion on story order and pacing when asked for feedback. She felt like it was a joke trying to offer Clarke any suggestions, but she was honoured to even be asked to look at it, and she felt special Clarke trusted her to read and offer her honest thoughts. Most of her stories were about people and how they related to each other, how they navigated the world of unfamiliar situations and landscapes, and what they did to make homes for themselves. It was a compilation full of optimism, even the stories that ended bittersweetly, and when Lexa tried really hard not to be biased, she could still see this book receiving some kind of literary award because it spoke so universally about the human condition.
They basked in silence for a moment before Lexa took a breath, remembering she also had something for Clarke.
“My gift’s not really a gift for you per se, but… Let me just forward it to you.”
She let go of Clarke’s shin and reached over to grab her phone, opening her email. Clarke watched curiously as Lexa forwarded her something. She pulled up the email, and Lexa just smiled at her, nodding at her to read it. Clarke scrolled down to read quickly. Her eyes widened.
“How?” she asked.
Lexa shrugged.
“Anya really likes you, Clarke. Besides, something needed to get done about it, and she had extra incentive to push it through after getting to know you.”
Clarke looked like she was about to cry. Lexa had forwarded her an email from Anya that contained the recently greenlit plan for a new developer to build a midrise rental building where the vacant construction pit sat across from Clarke’s old apartment. She no longer lived there, but part of her heart would always be there. It was the neighbourhood that had given her a chance when she was fresh out of luck. It was where she had gone through some pretty monumental life things. Her old neighbours were still there, and even though they sometimes drove her crazy with their loud TVs and hammering at two in the morning, they also made her happy when they selflessly gave her a cup of sugar or a couple of eggs when she ran out at midnight while baking. They were her people.
“Honestly, best Christmas present ever.”
“Really?” Lexa asked.
“Really.”
They lay quietly, thinking about these huge gifts that hadn’t cost them a cent but that meant more than anything money could buy.
“Do you think next year you could get me, like, a new city bus system that actually works on time?”
Lexa laughed loudly, and she carefully put the sketch on the side table before attacking Clarke and laying her out flat on the bed.
“I’ll work on it,” she said playfully as she crawled on top of Clarke and sat on her stomach. “In the meantime, can we please make sure we keep to the schedule today?”
Clarke sighed as if annoyed.
“Why do we have plans on Christmas day? I thought we agreed quiet Christmases were the best.”
“It’s one meetup for lunch, Clarke. We’ll be back by mid-afternoon, and you’ll have me all to yourself.”
Clarke grumbled, but she secretly didn’t mind. They were meeting with Raven, who was alone for the holidays this year because her parents were in Egypt this time, and she couldn’t stomach going to see her aunts and uncles to inevitably be interrogated about her divorce from Kyle. It was old news now, but it would still be on the family docket for discussion for at least the next two years.
Clarke’s phone buzzed suddenly in her hand.
Mom [10:25]: Merry Christmas, Clarke
Clarke smiled. She and her mom had texted a few times the past month, exchanging stories. Nothing too deep, but something was happening there, and she wasn’t going to stop it. She brought her phone up and texted back as Lexa sat on her, watching.
Clarke [10:27]: Merry Christmas, mom. Can I call you later tonight? We’re getting ready to go meet a friend
Mom [10:30] Of course. Enjoy your day
Clarke put her phone down on the bed, grabbed Lexa by the collar of her shirt, and flipped them over, pushing her hard into the mattress.
“Hey! Schedule,” Lexa reminded her seriously.
Clarke muffled the rest of her protests with a kiss. When she drew back, Lexa looked simultaneously annoyed and happy.
“Geez, von Lox. Five minutes. Your obsession with time keeping is baffling.”
Lexa considered overpowering Clarke and escaping to go get ready for the day. But she didn’t because she liked Clarke being Clarke, and this was the most Clarke thing she did. She studied the girl on top of her. She had had no clue what to expect when she asked her to move in together. What she got was someone shockingly easy to live with. Someone who was considerate, someone who always loved to be good company when Lexa needed it, but who also knew when Lexa needed to focus and go into business mode. She also called Lexa out on her occasional habit of leaving her socks on the floor by the door when she got in at the end of the day, which was the only messy habit she had. Lexa knew she should correct her behaviour, but she secretly loved having Clarke grumble at her about it. She made sure not to do it too often, but sometimes it just felt too good to come home and rip her socks off immediately and throw them to the ground like shackles she’d broken out of.
She felt Clarke’s hands start to play with the waistband of her shorts, and she steeled herself, gathering every bit of mental fortitude she had and grabbing Clarke’s wrists and pushing her away and rolling out from underneath her to stand up.
“We are not letting Raven down on Christmas of all days.”
Clarke sighed and moved to sit at the edge of the bed as she watched Lexa start to pick out clothes for the day. She was completely focused, so Clarke just watched her get dressed, not in a lewd way, but in an affectionate way. She loved the way Lexa always put her left sock on before her right, or the way she put sweaters on by shoving her head in first and then shimmying her arms through the arm holes. She watched the entire process and was so distracted that she didn’t notice Lexa had sat down on the edge of the bed beside her.
“What’s on your mind?”
Clarke blinked a couple of times and looked to her side.
“I like this.”
“Like what?” Lexa asked, puzzled.
“This,” Clarke repeated, waving her hands around in the air in a general way. “Living with you.”
“Hmm.”
I knew it. I knew you would, Clarke.
“What?” Clarke asked.
“Nothing,” Lexa said, hiding behind an enigmatic smile, her eyes sparkling.
Clarke bumped her shoulder into Lexa’s.
“What?” she insisted.
“It’s only been a month,” Lexa started, taking a deep breath like she always did when she was going to say something significant, “but it feels right. It feels like kismet.”
It was clear they got along well. They had compatible schedules, they had lots of hot, uninterrupted sex, and they took care of each other’s happiness. Clarke offered endless time to Lexa, and she was always up when Lexa got home late and needed to rant about the difficulties facing VLR or what breakthroughs had been made in her unimaginably complicated projects. Lexa, in turn, showered Clarke with endless attention, and she left her alone when she was moody and needed to fume and write to get her feelings out in a way that made sense to her. She listened to Clarke’s rambles about her book, about how close she was to the end of the road for her graduate school journey, and helped her brainstorm what next steps to take.
“I can’t believe the rest of my life will including nagging you to pick your fucking socks up off the floor,” Clarke responded cutely.
Lexa began to laugh but then stopped.
“The rest of your life?” she asked.
“I mean. No- yes. You know what I meant,” Clarke stumbled embarrassedly.
Good god, Griffin. Watch your mouth. We don’t “till death do us part” people we’ve lived with for only a month.
“Oh, I know what you meant,” Lexa said, a twinkle in her eye.
She stood up and offered a hand to Clarke, and Clarke shook her embarrassment off. The only person who made her feel like a complete goofball was Lexa. What was wrong with her knowing she wanted this to be it? That she didn’t need to go searching around anymore because she had found something that would be good forever?
They bundled up and went to stand at the bus stop and wait. They waited fifteen minutes because the bus was late. They looked at each other, and instead of being annoyed, they smiled. The world could fall apart around them, but at least they had each other. And that’s part of what would keep them going.
--The end --