Chapter Text
It’s clear from the second week at home that Evie loved the water. Bath time is her undisputed favorite activity. Like clockwork, she cries when she’s removed and dried.
“Little Mermaid,” Lexa croons, proud beyond words. Clarke thinks that Lexa would be proud of Evie for managing to put her own toes in her mouth. Many days after she has this thought, Evie does, and Lexa’s phone background evidences the event.
Clarke’s sitting on their toilet’s lid, flashcards in hand and forgotten as she watches Lexa bathe their daughter.
Most of it is murmured nonsense between the two of them, Lexa on her knees bent over, Evie in her infant bathtub, but Clarke catches Lexa’s praise and encouragement. It makes her smile nearly as much as Evie. Her expression grins in toothless gaps of facial experimentation, her balled fists swiping the water at her sides. She’s too young to truly smile, but all of Eve’s expressions are in her eyes; in her sounds. When Lexa cups the warm water over her belly, she wiggles in joy.
“She’s going to the Olympics, Clarke,” Lexa smiles.
“I’ll call the YMCA in the morning,”
“Hm. Don’t they have swimming classes for babies?”
“Wait. You’re serious?”
Lexa looks over her shoulder to Clarke’s amused expression and shrugs, “Not to be a hard case. I’m not about to pageant mom her, but I think it could be fun for all of us,”
“You want me to go?”
Lexa lifted a droll eyebrow, “Like you don’t want to,”
Clarke hummed dramatically, Lexa rolling her eyes and turning back to Evie.
“Eve’s going to the Olympics, Clarke. Are you really going to let our daughter grow up resenting you for not supporting her from day one? What if she rebels and starts smoking and wearing leather jackets?”
“So, basically turns into her Mom? She can borrow the cigarettes you keep in your nightstand. Think she’ll be a size 4?”
Lexa smothered a laugh, echoing Evie’s grunts of newly discovered sound.
“It’s inappropriate to bring up my shame cigarettes in front of her,”
“As opposed to you guilting me into a swim class on pain of pink highlights and slammed doors?”
“Yes,”
“Noted,” Clarke aired, smiling, “You know, it’d also be a good way to meet other parents,”
Even with her back to Clarke, the blonde knew Lexa had scrunched her nose. The smile was in her tone as she goaded, “Come on, Lex. Other parents would be good. We can make friends and have play dates,”
“Evie plays,”
“-and have a babysitting pool,”
Lexa paused.
“So you’ll call in the morning?”
“I’ll call in the morning,”
Clarke does.
‘Water Babies’ is the 10am class on Sundays at their local Y, and everyone has a blast. Clarke made an entire event out of shopping for a swimsuit for Eve, Lexa smiling patiently through the entire affair. They finally settled on a picnic-checkered number, enough to look cute and allow her movement.
Come 10:30 on Sunday, and Evie is confused and positively joyful. Her features flexed in her unpracticed smile, arching and rolling in Lexa’s arms in the water. Clarke mostly stood or floated nearby, watching with sunlight in her heart. There was a coach at the front of seven couples or so, instructing on dips and twirls and hand placement.
It was silly. It was a waste of money.
Lexa loved it.
She loved Evie’s constant stream of babbling nonsense. How even in the cavernous echo of the pool’s acoustics, she can pick out her daughter’s sounds amongst the many. She loved Evie’s strange calm in the weightlessness; loved the wholesome feeling of being surrounded by people who loved their children too.
And Lexa loved Clarke.
The blonde swam in gentle circles around her, every so often pressing wetly into her side or front to sandwich Eve in a cocoon of love. Clarke took her once, bouncing and twisting in the clear chlorine to the sounds of her own affection, a blinding smile on her face. Clarke listened well and loved even better. It helped that she wore a pure white one-piece suit, the chest cut out in a crisscrossing diamond pattern. Her honey blonde hair was drenched to a dishwater brunette gold, rivulets of water beading her skin, tracing her collarbones; her neck.
Lexa loved it all.
A while later, yet too soon, the class eventually ended. Clarke collected their things from the pool-side bench, toweling Evie and herself. Lexa had taken her turn first, slipping running shorts on with a racer-back tank top. She held Evie and waited for Clarke.
After a few moments wasted glancing at Lexa holding their daughter, Clarke was ready. She noticed a man holding his son next to her and smiled good-naturedly.
“Have a good time?”
A massive grin, “Oh yeah. My wife and I are regulars. How about yourself?”
“A blast,” she agreed, “I’m Clarke, by the way,”
“Oh!” the man struggled to free a hand from his support of his son, “Brad,” they shook. Brad jiggled the baby in his arms, “And this is Ian,”
Clarke ducks down and waves, “Hi Ian. My daughter’s name is Evie,” she turns and points to Lexa, the brunette fixing her attention on the interaction.
“Good to see this isn’t a couples only class anymore,” Brad smiles, “I get tired of a bunch of bored dudes and their overly energetic wives. Or bored dudes and their overly energetic husbands,” he leaned in at what was clearly the punch line of the joke.
Clarke raised her eyebrows, a mocking drawl of a laugh on her lips and any respect she had draining away in an instant, “Ah, is that right?”
“Yeah,” Brad shifted Ian in his arms, “There was a gay couple in the last class. Kept making everyone uncomfortable with their comments,”
“Well we certainly hope not to do that. I’m bisexual,” Clarke says graciously. She waves to Lexa now standing next to her, “This is Lexa, Evie’s other Mom,”
“Huh,” Brad looks back and forth between them, stunned bordering delighted, “Well then, that’s – that’s amazing, isn’t it?”
Clarke stifles a laugh while Lexa just holds Evie and bounces silently.
“I mean, I guess?” Clarke tries, “No better time to be gay,”
Brad gives an overly raucous laugh and gestures to the woman behind him,
“Janet! Come meet Clarke and Lexa,”
A woman perfectly entitled to rule a homeowners association sashayed over. Plain, matted brunette hair with brown eyes so dark they looked black. She smiled, lips painted salmon even after a water class at 10 in the morning.
“Hello!” she crows, voice helium-cracked and silicone sweet, “Nice to meet you Clarke and Lexa,”
Brad puffed up, eager and altogether a let down. His smile should have been accompanied by a cigar.
“They’re lesbians, Janet,”
“You’re kidding!” she squeals, delighted.
“Clarke is actually bisexual,” Lexa intervenes softly, Evie wiggling an arm forward for Clarke, who takes her reflexively, Lexa not batting an eye at the transfer.
“Oh, of course!” Janet breezes, “It’s 2018, after all. You know, I have a lesbian-gay cousin who says that there’s no such thing as a monogamous gay couple anymore,”
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
“Lex,”
“Oh, no! I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude,” Janet rushes, “That’s just what she says,” she bats a hand through the air, “But it’s really great to see two mothers, we just met two dads in a previous class. Did you tell them, Brad?”
“I told them,”
Janet beams, “Representation in public is so important,”
“Uhm, I agree,” Clarke cast a glance to Lexa, who could only look back while Janet steamrolled on.
“People just want to know so much about you! About your parenting style and relationship dynamic. Like, are you going to let your daughter wear pink?”
“I mean-“
“Oh, I know, it’s such a gendered question, right?”
Brad nods sagely while Clarke’s jaw tries to kick in gear.
“Not really, it’s whatever she likes-“
“Where’s she from?” Janet asks, her eyes running over Evelyn greedily, “I hear fertility clinics now have such high standards,”
Lexa felt cold anger crackle into her spine, muted by shock. She didn’t know whether this was actually happening.
“Of course, neither of you look like you actually carried her,” Janet trickles into a laugh Clarke reflexively tried to return, failing, “You must have used a surrogate! Oh, I see. Though surely you’re ordering your breast milk. It’s so much healthier,”
Brad’s eyes shift to Clarke’s chest, presumably gauging the volume of unused nutrient.
Lexa’s tongue feels molten, Clarke sensing the slow simmer under her best friend’s skin. She buckles on a tight smile.
“She’s adopted, actually,”
Janet seems to brighten from her momentary discomfort.
“Oh my word! That’s just precious. Very good Samaritan of you,” she tries on a tease, “Very Madonna,”
Lexa’s actually flushing around her ears, her weight shifting restlessly. Clarke steels herself. Lexa flighty and feeling trapped has disastrous consequences.
“But what about you two?” Janet exclaims like an idea had thundered into her. She goes smug and eyes the two women, “Okay, so who’s the butch and who’s the femme?”
“Excuse me?” Lexa explodes in incredulousness, and Clarke props Evie on her hip in order to free her hand. She decisively pushes on Lexa’s lower back.
“Okay. You know, it was nice meeting you guys,” she grimaced, “But we just remembered we’ve got somewhere to be,”
“Oh, of course!” Janet smiled, Brad taking Ian’s hand to wave at them, “See you soon!”
Clarke has to glue her hand to Lexa’s back to keep her from turning around.
Finally in the car, Clarke was trying her absolute best to keep a straight face as her best friend raged.
“They’re lesbians, Janet,” Lexa mocked, rolling her eyes, “Like we’re zoo attractions. Honestly. We live in Washington DC. DOMA was overturned here. It should count as a gay home field advantage,”
Clarke tipped her head, “I think headquarters are actually in Seattle. Maybe Portland,”
“Clarke,”
She smiled, amused at Lexa’s dry frustration, “They just need education,”
“And since when is it a stereotype for gay couples to all be poly?”
“I think it’s a California rumor,”
“It’s insulting,”
“All stereotypes are insulting,”
“Yes, well. I don’t like Brad,” Lexa gave an almighty huff while Clarke hid her smile, “He kept staring at your chest,”
“It’s a great chest,”
“He’s married,”
“He could be poly,”
Lexa lifted an eyebrow while Clarke grinned outright.
“Clarke, if that man is into anything kinkier than occasionally having sex with a night light on, I’ll kiss him,”
Clarke broke up into laughter. Behind her, Evie squealed in giggles.
“Oh my,” Clarke twisted around, “Look who’s awake. Did you have a nice nap? Sleeping so you can keep your Mommies up later?” she reached for a stuffed donut and played in teasing jerks of movement, continuing.
“I’ve never understood why people feel the need to bring up their acquaintance gays. Like we’re all in a GroupMe thread together,”
Lexa snorted.
“To be fair, if you’ve been out long enough, you do know all your friends’ exes in the tri-county area. Think she’ll go down when we get home?”
“Hm,” Clarke sighed, “Probably. She’s a power nap champ. But we really should just go to the store while we’re out,”
“She won’t like it,”
Clarke hummed, “Well we’ve got the good binky in the bag,”
“I’m pointing at you when she starts crying in the grocery,”
It's three weeks after that when Clarke bursts through the door on a Saturday morning. Fresh from a 12 hour clinical, all Lexa can do is wait.
“I want rights,” Clarke paced in a frantic quickstep, “I can’t do this with Evie, Lexa, I am not going to do this. I want rights, and access, and validity as her mother. I am not some stranger or hobbyist or whatever the fuck those self righteous, stuck up bitches from water class might think I am just because I didn’t shit myself in front of a room full of people to get my daughter,”
If Lexa hadn’t been so pained to see her hurt, she would have laughed.
“-because she is my daughter,” Clarke worked her arms to hold around her middle, planting firmly in the center of the living room. She glared at Lexa’s patience, “I am her mother, Lexa, I am,”
Lexa didn’t respond, watching her friend critically.
“Clarke,” she said gently, “What happened?”
The blonde screwed up her face and looked away, rubbing her lips together. Her blue eyes clouded with memories, and her ire projected in a passionate monotone. Lexa wanted to hold her.
“A man came into the hospital today. Looking for his son. He wanted to see him, find out why he was there, talk to a doctor. Typical parent stuff. His son wasn’t my patient, so I’m not sure why he was upset. But his ex-wife had sole custody and I had to watch security escort him to the doors. Granted, he was behaving recklessly, but. I can’t say I’d be any more collected if Evie were in the hospital and I didn’t know why,”
By the end of it, Clarke gave a small sigh and ran a hand over her face.
“So I need. Documents. Papers. Something. I need to see something with my name, and Evie’s name, and your name - on it, saying we’re her parents, and that she’s our daughter,”
Lexa’s heart twisted.
“You can’t,”
Clarke’s eyes snapped to her.
“What?”
Lexa swallowed dryly, “You’re going to be her legal guardian, not her… mother. According to the District of Columbia, you aren’t adopting her,”
“Just you,” Clarke realized. Lexa didn’t nod. Nodding would have been indicative of agreement. A few heartbeats later, Clarke looked up from the carpet with fire in her eyes.
“I want to,” she set her shoulders, “We’re going to. Together. We’re going to adopt her together. I know you, Lexa. The legality is important to you, and it’s important for her, so it’s important to me. What’s it going to take?”
Lexa lifted her head like she wasn’t going to be affected by what happened next. She breathed.
“Washington DC doesn’t allow unmarried couples to adopt,”
“Then let’s get married,”
“What?”
“Or how about a common law marriage?” Clarke was on the warpath, and Lexa left like she’d be sucker punched in the chest, “That’s a thing, right? Do we qualify for that?”
“No,” Lexa’s numb lips moved, “Washington DC doesn’t recognize them anyway,”
“Fuck, Lexa, mind telling me what Washington DC does recognize then?”
“Domestic partnerships,”
“Let’s do that then,” Clarke ground, “Have one of those, whatever,”
“Clarke, I think we should talk about this first,”
Clarke ran an exasperated hand through her hair, “I know, I know, I’m just-“
“Agitated,”
“Yes!”
Lexa considered her roommate for a moment. She stepped carefully, like she were approaching a wild animal. Clarke sent her an unhappy glance but didn’t react negatively to the approach. Lexa offered her hand.
Clarke eyed it for a moment, knowing fully that taking it meant leaving her restless comfort zone. A suffering exhale, and she took it. Instantly, Lexa’s face went smooth and smiling, and Clarke rolled her eyes.
“Stop it,”
Lexa bit her lip, her green eyes lighted.
“Let’s walk around the block,”
“Can we stop and get coffee?”
“Yes,” Lexa brought Clarke’s hand to her face and pressed the tired knuckles to her lips, her heart absolutely devoted to the woman in front of her, “Change. I’ll pack the stroller,”
Clarke huffed, empty of threat or irritation. Lexa let her oceanic calm wash over her best friend. Clarke was justified in her feelings, Lexa didn’t want to diminish that. But now they were allowed to fix it. Make her whole again.
By the time Clarke was collected enough to listen, she had half an iced coffee down, and the park was crowded. They paced easily, rollerblades and runners passing by between the din of a sunny day’s public concerto.
“Now, the benefits of domestic partnership, legislated in 1992, are evaluated in a four factor test developed and updated every fiscal year, the first being-“
“-Okay easy counselor,” Clarke cut Lexa off, the brunette blinking up from the detailed note on her phone. Clarke was smiling, her voice crushed velvet and relaxed, “I’d like the un-annotated version, please,”
Lexa cleared her throat, wrinkling her nose self-consciously. Clarke bumped her hip into hers, a gentle affection in her eyes. Lexa laughed.
“Fine,” she looked back to her phone, summarizing as she read, “If we go with a domestic partnership, we’ll be granted the legal rights of immediate family members. Hospital visitation, insurance coverage, medical decision-making, estate planning, the works. The same extends over any dependents we register for,”
“Evie,” Clarke nodded.
“Yes. Because we’re over 18, are sane, are single, and haven’t done this before, all we need to do is prove we live in the same place,”
Clarke shot her a droll look.
“And how complicated will that be?”
Lexa gave a slight plead of an expression.
“Only my name is on our lease, so we’ll need to file an exemption affidavit and appear together before a Registrar for the application,”
Clarke groaned, leaning over the stroller, “Jesus, Lexa. When were you going to tell me all this?”
Lexa grimaced.
“I’m sorry. I thought it would be better after school ended,”
Clarke rolled her eyes.
“Of course it’d be more convenient then, but I can’t be comfortable knowing I don’t have rights to my kid. It’s way worse trying to study with this bothering me,”
Lexa nodded, understanding. They took a few easy paces in quiet, before Clarke tipped her head, suddenly suspicious and smiling.
“So, have you already filed the affidavit?”
Lexa bristled, “No,”
Clarke lifted a brow. Lexa looked away.
“The paperwork is in my desk. I already scanned your driver’s license,”
Clarke sagged sideways into Lexa, laughing too hard to stay upright. Lexa grinned, a hand laying on Evie’s stroller to keep it straight.
She was too aware of her pinky brushing Clarke’s.
“Lex, Octavia wants to go to a gay bar,”
“What in the hell for?”
Clarke shrugged, folding clothes. She watches Lexa spin and dance Evie for a minute, a smile pressing into her cheeks helplessly.
She glanced at her phone on the bed, reading.
“Raven says she’s having a gay panic,”
Lexa slides an eyebrow upwards, “Octavia is straight,”
“Usually,” Clarke murmurs, typing, “Apparently she’s been inspired by a ridiculously hot girl on her lacrosse team,”
“Ah,”
“So she wants to go to a gay bar and quote ‘needs veterans to help her get laid’. Raven’s words,”
“Baby gay nerves,”
“I’m thinking so,” Clarke finished her text, “I told Raven we’d have to get a sitter, but we’re in,”
Lexa nearly pouted, “A night out to a gay bar is a waste of a sitter,”
“True,” Clarke matched socks absently from her perch on the bed, “But a night out supporting Octavia isn’t,”
“Octavia doesn’t need a cadre of women to wing for her. That is not support. That is thirst,”
“Lexa,”
The brunette sighed and nodded her assent. Clarke smiled.
“It’ll mean a lot to her,”
“It better,” Lexa grumbled, “I’m too old to be in gay bars,”
Clarke laughed, chucking a pair of jeans in Lexa’s direction.
“Get dressed, we’re meeting Anya, Raven, and O at 8,”
Lexa complained all the way to the bar's counter, and didn't stop until a drink was in her hand, another already in her blood. She smiled at Clarke, surprised when a drink interrupted their conversation.
“Oh, I didn’t order this,” Clarke told the bartender. The woman only grinned.
“From the handsome lady at the end, there,”
Lexa looked with Clarke, and found a warm pair of brown eyes looking back. The woman raised her beer, and Lexa ignored the stab of what could only be jealousy. She tossed back what was left of her drink when Clarke took the glass and smiled at Brown Eyes in return politely.
“You don’t even like tequila,”
“Only when I can taste it,”
Lexa huffed a small laugh and looked away from Brown Eyes, who moved from the bar to circle closer. Her jaw flexed.
“I’m going to find Octavia,” she said, Clarke pouting immediately.
“Stay and flirt with me, please?” A hint of a real frown crept into Clarke’s eyes, and Lexa folded immediately, her expression going faux put-upon as she stepped closer. Clarke grinned triumphantly.
Lexa waved to the bartender, pretending like she was busy for a moment.
Taking her place.
“Hey,” Brown Eyes had entered the scene, lips twisted so professionally that Clarke assumed picking up girls was her day job, “I’m Jasmine, but my friends call me Jack. Your name, beautiful?”
Clarke could feel Lexa’s derisive hushed exhale of a laugh against her side.
“Clarke,” she dipped her head, “But I’m gonna have to stop you, Jack. I’m flattered, but I’m not interested,”
Jack reared her head back in genuine surprise. And lowered it just as quickly, the glint in her eye sparkling nearly as brightly as the hoop through her septum.
“Not even a little bit curious?” she smiled, a finger nudging the tequila sunrise she had ordered for Clarke, “I promise I’m not thinking anything funny,”
Clarke’s eyebrow ticked disbelievingly. Right on cue, a beautifully sculpted hand came down over the rim of the offered glass, it’s other slipping around Clarke’s waist.
“She’s not particularly concerned with what you think,”
Clarke shivered, her gut twisting with electric satisfaction at the confusion in Jack’s eyes as she fit pieces together. Confusion, irritation, and no small amount of jealousy.
Without looking, Clarke knew that Lexa was everything Jack wanted to be. Or at least what she was trying to convince other people she was. Lexa stood like a sculpture granted life, voluntary in rest: unyielding in her relaxation. Like she had always occupied the space she stood in. Quiet, unwavering confidence. Clarke knew it. Everyone knew it.
It’s why she and Clarke intentionally orbited each other in bars and clubs. They were mutually beneficial in deterring the abnormally high rate of interested parties. The curse of the unreasonably attractive, Clarke mused as her eyes roved over Lexa’s marble features.
Lexa's green eyes flashed when Jack hadn’t moved, but instead ran her eyes appreciatively over Lexa’s heeled boots, skinny jeans, and clinging black halter top. Clarke’s mood turned sharp. In a rush, she was impatient and through with the self-decided stud in front of her. Before Jack could speak whatever imbecilic thoughts had wormed to the tip of her tongue, Clarke traced Lexa’s hand on her hip up to her arm, bringing the woman around so Clarke could pull Lexa to press against her.
“Hey, babe, that reminds me,” she croons. Lexa’s blood curdled in her veins at the smoke in Clarke’s crushed gravel tones. The blonde plays with Lexa’s hair and looks over her face devotedly.
“Would you call the sitter for me? I’m worried about Evie, and I want to check in and make sure our baby girl’s alright,”
Jack’s eyes were blown but tight, and without another word she turned and disappeared into packed bodies and rainbow flashing lights.
Lexa’s chest heated as Clarke’s curled lips turned into genuine victory, and Lexa steps a fraction into Clarke’s view, her voice hushed and rich.
“You are absolutely terrifying,”
Clarke threw her head backwards and laughed, stealing a sip of Lexa’s new drink. Vodka tonic. Lexa was lukewarm on the liquor, but ordered it when she intended for Clarke to finish them.
“I was actually serious,” she sighed, her hand still lightly on Lexa’s hip, finger curled through her belt loop. Lexa smiled.
“I know,” she bit her lip, “I know she’s probably fine but,”
Clarke smiled helplessly, her hypnotic gaze fixed on Lexa’s near-pleading green.
“Wanna text Lucy?”
Lexa shuffled, her posture serene despite the sudden itch in her bones to leave the bar, drive home, and sneak in just to see her daughter.
“Can we call?”
Clarke’s smile twisted higher, her thumb brushing Lexa’s bitten lip.
“I’ll text,” she said, yelping; laughing, when Lexa feigned an attempt to bite her thumb.
“Thank you,” Lexa breathed.
“Mhm,” Clarke slipped her hand around to Lexa’s back pocket where Lexa let her keep her phone, typing rapidly, “Now, she’s going to text back and say everything’s fine, and then we’re going to watch Octavia make out with a stranger,”
Lexa snorted, nodding. They people-watched for a moment, Clarke making loud-quiet comments about the table dancers or rainbow feather boas. Lexa would laugh and snipe a made-up background story for them, a cherry of a pun on top.
Clarke pointed to the corner of the bar.
For whatever reason, a leather daddy with white spots painted onto his vest wore a long, thin tail and a horn-headband.
“Udder-ly ridiculous,” Lexa murmured, “He’s milking that for all he’s worth,”
At Clarke’s groaned laugh, precious in every facet, Lexa let herself admire how beautiful Clarke was. She was always beautiful. But she was beautiful here, too. The club lights were low and warm by the bar, making her pale skin glow. She’d gotten to sleep in this morning, and the rest had done her well. Fresh make up and clean hair in soft beach curls, Clarke was beautiful in a foundational way. It wasn’t something she decorated herself to be, she simply was.
It only took a glance to see she wasn’t the only person who thought so. And maybe the bartender had poured with a heavy hand, or Lexa had been egged on by Jack and had let it get to her. But in a strange motion of possessiveness, she pressed a kiss to Clarke’s temple. One short kiss, then another two in rapid succession.
It was how she kissed Evie. Just a sweet play of her lips, and then she stepped backwards, leading the way to the dance floor. She didn’t look at the blonde’s reaction, but felt satisfaction roll through her chest when Clarke tucked her fingers into Lexa’s waistband to follow through the jostling crowd.
Lexa made her way back towards the dance floor and found Raven at a table with Anya.
“Where’s Clarke?” Raven asked. Lexa pointed as the blonde rounded Lexa’s side.
“Oh hey, Clarke,” Raven cheered, her cheeks rosy.
Anya tossed them a smirk, “Have you seen her?”
Lexa shook her head, following Anya’s pointed beer wave. And she nearly caved to a full laughing fit.
Jack pressed the smaller woman into a cage made of tanned skin and men’s deodorant, her lips devouring the girl. Clarke was already sinking into a chair, unable to stand under the force of her laughter.
Raven looked faintly amused, and then Clarke delved into explanation. Anya grinned, delighted.
“She wanted to know how the queer community worked,” she tossed languidly, “Welcome to it. Everyone hooks up with everyone else,”
“Except Clarke and Lexa,” Raven smirked pointedly.
Anya dipped her head to the given exception, “Except Clarke and Lexa,”
“Oh, fuck off,” Clarke chucked an abandoned straw at Raven.
Lexa ignored the throb in her chest, ignored the friendly hello in her phone's inbox.
“Who’s going to tell Octavia?”
Clarke rolled her eyes at Raven, “No one,” she says pointedly, “This is supposed to be her night,”
Lexa shifted, finally taking a seat at the square table.
“Can we not find her another woman to assault?” she cast a cool eye to Jack’s insistent pawing, “God forbid Octavia get attached,”
Clarke tipped her head, considering. A valid point. The idea of a recurrence of Jack in any capacity irritated her like a tag outside the back of her shirt. She nodded, looking around the bar.
Lexa zeroed in with a seasoned eye to the group of women who looked very similar to their own collection. Three women seated at a table, drinking and laughing.
“Clarke,”
Blue eyes followed and nodded affirmatively, standing and pulling Lexa with her as Clarke crossed through the crowd. Approaching the table, Lexa wrapped an arm around Clarke’s waist, letting the women know Clarke wasn’t the item on the menu.
“Hey,” Clarke started, the three women breaking from conversation to stare at the arrivals, “Sorry to interrupt. But our friend’s having her first night out of the closet, and she’s kind of getting mauled by someone,” she wrinkles her nose and points to the dance floor, the couple clearly visible, “I was only wondering if anyone would like to rescue her? Her name’s Octavia and she’s kind of looking to have some fun tonight. No big deal if no one’s interested,”
Two of the women exchanged a stunned, unsure look, and Lexa immediately knew they’d had probably two dates after being friends for a while. Insecure relationship. She turned to the third woman, who tipped her head in consideration.
Lexa leaned over, “We’re not trying to start anything, or I’d do it myself, but,” she cast a proud look to Clarke and back to the woman, “You know,”
The woman smiled fully.
“I can appreciate that,” she nodded, “Is your friend crazy? Gonna call me thirty times at 5 am four weeks from now?”
Clarke laughed heartily while Lexa shook her head.
“Lexa,” she offered her free hand, speaking loudly over the music. The woman shook.
“Sienna,”
“Clarke,” the blonde offered, smiling, “No. She’s just insanely horny and trying to find an anchor to fly her freak flag from,” she gently rolled her eyes, Sienna smiling handsomely.
“The good ol’ days,” she joked.
“We can introduce you, if you’d like,” Lexa offered, fully expecting the wave Sienna gave. She winked.
“Thanks, but I’ve got this,”
Clarke smiled and nodded, watching Sienna grace the dance floor.
“Good eye, Lex,”
Lexa smirked, her eyes on Sienna’s back. The DJ spun a new track, and Clarke’s smile brightened, “Hey, come dance with me,”
And so Lexa, because she’s a sucker, let Clarke lead her to a spot in the crowd. Lexa wasn’t traditionally a dancer of any kind. But dancing at a gay bar with a stranger was not actual dancing. It was a balance. Holding a drink, holding a girl, and showing her you knew how to grind to a consistent rhythm.
Lesbian seduction at its finest.
It wasn’t something Lexa typically enjoyed. Unless of course, the drink she had was a whiskey sour, and the girl she held was Clarke Griffin. Technically, Clarke was a cop out. A dance partner for the sake of dancing. That’s how they had started, anyway. Clarke peeling Lexa from her wallflower tendencies and securing herself a shield where she could dance and actually enjoy the music without fear of interruption.
But reality was so much sweeter.
Clarke’s ass fit a perfect curve into the cradle of Lexa’s hips, her rhythm sweet and fun. Lexa had a hand laid gently on her hip, a guide of push and play. Clarke loved to dance. Lexa knew it wasn’t just the music or the mood or the alcohol. It was the artist in her. Clarke moved in direct proportion to how she felt; when she buttered bread, walked, dipped tea into hot water. She was so beautifully emotive.
Dancing was a much more blatant display. It was cause and effect rolled into agitation and instant gratification. Clarke’s hair slipped over her shoulders as she rolled her body, her shoulders rotating in counter-revolutions to her hips. Lexa let Clarke set the pace, but loved the way Clarke followed her lead.
The bass thumped in her chest, her heart an amp of its own.
Clarke had a hand on Lexa’s thigh, the other threading through her own hair occasionally. She arched backwards, her shoulders pressing up against Lexa’s breasts and fuck Lexa was wet. It was a signal for Lexa to place her other hand on Clake’s hip, holding her curves in her hands. The song changed, and they gyrated to their own slow beat, Clarke’s head turning. She reached further back and wove her fingers through Lexa’s hair, the brunette dipping to press her cheek to Clarke’s forehead.
It was nearly dangerous.
Clarke felt every inch of Lexa behind her. The soft of her chest, the hard, muscular force in her hips’ rhythm, her sweet hands at her waist. Lexa handled her like something fragile and precious, yet strong enough to explode at any minute.
Another song, and suddenly, Lexa stiffened entirely, her body spasming acutely. Clarke jerked to see what was wrong, a frown marring her face at seeing it was only Octavia drunkenly grinding on Lexa. Behind her, Sienna looked flushed and pleased.
Clarke smiled and sighed as Lexa’s body bricked back up, the beautifully vulnerable cadence of tension broken. Clarke’s veins still thrummed, but a Lexa shocked out of a headspace was a Lexa of no return. She checked her phone.
Eleven. She turned the screen to show Lexa, who nodded. She disengaged from Clarke to find Raven and Anya, the two teasing them about their Mommy duties. Clarke only laughed to see Lexa’s immeasurably content expression at the accusation. After hugs and a confirmation Octavia had a plan to get home, they left.
Walking in the door of their apartment, Lucy sat up from where she’d been slumped on their couch.
“Ms Woods, Ms Griffin,” she chirped.
“Hey, Lucy,” Clarke smiled, “How was she?”
The girl stood, stretching her back, “Pretty active. She was a little gassy right after you left but we got it all out,”
“She never likes that,” Lexa grimaced. Clarke went to fetch Lucy’s money.
The girl’s sweet Mexican features smiled, chocolate eyes dancing up at Lexa, “She’s a sweetheart. After that, she ate pretty well so it’s no biggie,”
Lexa nodded, relaxed, “Well I’m sorry if she wasn’t as quiet as she usually is,”
Lucy waved a hand, “Psh. Compared to doing the exact same thing for my own mom, plus three brothers, without getting paid for it? Yeah right, Ms. Woods. It was a blast,”
Clarke re-entered the room with her money.
“Did you eat?”
Lucy rolled her eyes.
“Ms. Griffin, come on, you guys have got to stop feeding me like this. My Dad’ll wonder why I keep talking about coming over,” she gave another put-upon exhale, “and then I’ll have to come out, and then there’ll be tears, and yikes,”
Lexa smiled, Clarke outright laughing.
“Well tell him Lex and I say hi,” she put an arm around the 18-year-old, “But you can come over you know, just to talk if you want,” she smiled, “No one would understand better than us,”
Lucy’s dark complexion dusted awed and touched.
“Thanks, Ms. G,”
Lexa opened the door, and they both waved her out. Lexa sighed.
“I hope she comes to talk to us if she does feel conflicted,”
Clarke hummed.
“And to think, Lucy could come out, be the gayest of us all, and take up Jack’s mantel,”
Lexa scowled at her, “Stop that,”
Clarke crooned laughter her smile sinking into a yawn.
“Think Octavia will be alright?”
Lexa nodded, leading into their bedroom to change for the night. They turned away from each other as they dressed, practiced privacy.
“Anya wouldn’t let anything bad happen,”
“Bad, no. Regretful? Absolutely,” Clarke shook her hair out of her sleep shirt’s neck, “St. Patrick’s. Two years ago. I’ll never forgive her for sending the video to you,”
Lexa choked on muffling her laugh, double-checking Evie was still asleep.
“The only regret I have is that I wasn’t there to personally witness it,”
Clarke scoffed, toothpaste passing from her hand to Lexa’s over the bathroom sink. Around the brush, she complained.
“’is wha’ –oo get ‘or wunnin’ th’ fife ‘ay, an no’ dwin’in ‘eh,”
Lexa stopped brushing her teeth to blink at her.
“Wha’?”
Clarke tipped her head back to smile around the foam. She shook her head and finished brushing hurriedly.
“I said, ‘That’s what you get for running the 5K instead of drinking it’,”
Lexa breathed a laugh through her nose.
“You thought the finishers’ complimentary pint was a table full of free samples. You deserve every recorded second of trying to hide your underage intoxication from the street cops while 24. Every second,”
Clarke huffed, throwing their decorative pillows to the floor.
“Yeah, well. At least I didn’t have to pay for my beer,”
“Because you stole it,”
“It’s not stealing if it’s free,”
Lexa slid under the covers, Clarke hitting the lights and crawling in. Lexa groaned in stutters of exaggerated relief.
“I’ve been waiting for this all night,”
Clarke hummed, smiling. She adjusted her head into the pillow.
“You’re such a party animal,”
Lexa gave a sleepy whirr.
Only for a hiccupping cry to shatter the air. Evie’s piercing tones immediately jumped to stage 2, and Lexa whined. Clarke groaned, swatting at her.
“I made dinner,”
Lexa moaned, squeezing her eyes tight before rolling out of bed.