Chapter Text
“Lexa, wake up!” is what she hears just before the far too bright light that was her bedside lamp is switched on and hands are grabbing her shoulders.
She groans, loudly, deciding that was more than enough of a response right now.
Raven knew she was hungover. Waking her up with anything other than a glass of ginger ale and two Tylenol was just cruel.
Next, the blanket is ripped from her body, taking away her guard against that intruding, blinding light. “Nope, not happening,” Raven declares. “You’ve already used up your get out walks free card for the month. Let’s go.”
“I’m sick,” Lexa answers with a whine. She felt sick at least. That seemed like it should count.
Raven tuts. “You’re hungover. Your illness is self-inflicted.” Lexa would have to try that logic next time Raven was curled in the fetal position from a few too many rounds of beer pong. “I shouldn’t have to suffer just because you got drunk off of boxed wine after a phone conversation with your mother.”
Which makes Lexa groan more because the last thing she needs is a reminder as to why she got drunk in the first place. “Don’t remind me.” That was a train wreck of a conversation, and the worst of what was discussed had still yet to come to pass. She did not need to think about that first thing in the morning.
“Fine,” Raven relents. “Get your ass up, and I won’t mention it again this morning.”
That was probably the best she was going to get, so Lexa stands, wincing against the pounding in her head. “You’re a terrible friend.”
Raven beams. “I know, darling. Now get dressed.”
Lexa throws on the closest thing to pyjamas that could be considered appropriate for outside and ties her hair up in a knot on top of her head. She puts her glasses on, this was no day for contacts and stumbles out to the kitchen for some glorious coffee.
“One of these days we need to get a dog,” she says, hands fiddling with the ties on the bag of coffee. “The two of you can walk each other.”
Raven bats her hands out of the way and quickly opens the bag. “Until then I’m stuck with you, though,” she answers, hastily dumping in spoon fills to the filter. She never made the coffee correctly. “I guess that makes you my bitch.”
“Love you too, pal.” Lexa drops onto the bar stool laying her head in her arms on the countertop and letting out a long, endless moan of displeasure. First of all, she was awake, second she was being forced outdoors, and lastly, she had a research paper due in precisely fourteen hours that she had all of two sentences written for, not to mention that phone conversation. She was not regarding that conversation as a thing worth thinking of.
Raven places a Gatorade in front of her. “My mom is always harping on about how this stuff is what you should drink when you’ve been puking. Something about electrolytes and shit.”
“But I didn’t-”
“Twice,” Raven interrupts with a wrinkled nose. “In my trash can, thank you very much.”
Oops. “I’ll clean that out.”
“You bet your ass you will,” she holds out a cup of coffee in Lexa’s favorite to go mug because she was being forced to go somewhere. “I’ll drive.” She almost always drove. Lexa hated driving, not to mention she wasn’t very good at it. Raven drove like she was a retired Nascar motorist, but she at least did it well.
“You better take those turns slow today.”
Outside the weather is balmy, a light breeze flushing against Lexa’s face as soon as she pushes the door open. That was her favorite part of San Francisco, easily. No matter the time of year it always felt like those perfect days of spring, when the cold has thawed out, and the summer air had just begun creeping in, before the humidity or the sweltering heat that rivaled a day in Death Valley.
Raven rolls down the windows of her old Jeep Wrangler, the engine kicking to life with more of a growl than a pur. Probably the only part of this car that still maintained it’s 2001 parts was the body itself; the rest had been entirely reassembled by Raven herself.
“Drink your Gatorade,” she reminds Lexa as she eases out onto the main road. “I’ll buy you something greasy after.”
Their little walks were a near daily tradition, only abandoned on particularly lazy weekends or last semester when Lexa had morning classes starting at 7:30. Raven had heard that and promptly said “fuck that shit I’ll be sleeping,” like the elegant goddess she is.
The walking was part of Raven’s “physical therapy” which her mother insisted upon even though Raven’s leg injury was nearly a decade old and could probably be maintained just fine without daily three-mile walks. Lexa was pretty sure it was just her mom’s way of feeling like she was doing something even though Raven was several states away from home.
The trail is only a couple miles from their apartment. It’s the perfect length with a pleasant tree coverage to prevent any sunburn, and typically their only company was stay at home moms with their running strollers and the occasional elderly couple. Lexa enjoyed that part at least.
They start out, even footfalls as a squirrel darts in front of them. The cool bay breeze wasn’t as frequent here since they were a little more removed, but it still found its way through the branches of the trees, the leaves singing with the motion. It was peaceful and quiet and relaxing. “Ugh, god, why do all white people do that?” And then there was Raven.
“Do what?” Lexa asks. What could she have possibly done?
“That thing,” Raven answers, her lips pressing together and offering this forced, half smile. “You all do it when walking by each other. Like why? Either you’re excited to see someone, and you show it,” her face breaks out in an even, open-mouthed smile, “Or you stare straight ahead with a steely-eyed gaze and ignore the strangers who are obviously beneath you.”
Lexa laughs because that was usually the best response she had for most of Raven’s rants. “You spent the second half of your life raised by the Griffins,” Lexa points out with a shake of her head. “Even their surname is white.”
“You say this as if I don’t consistently mock my family,” Raven shoots back. “I’ve been rolling my eyes at their whiteness before the ink even dried on those adoption papers.”
Raven often talked like this about her family, teasing and taunting and like she was totally sure of their love for her. Which was surreal for Lexa, who had been born into her family and yet she still tried not to put too many toes out of line, just in case it was decided she wasn’t worth loving anymore. If that hadn't already come to pass, that is.
“Speaking of which,” Raven takes a long draw of her coffee before lowering it and shooting Lexa a look. “Abby and Clarke are coming out to visit in a few days.”
Lexa had heard about this in passing. She’d met Abby on a few occasions, last year on Raven’s birthday and a few odd weekend visits. Clarke hadn’t ever made it out here, though. Raven always saw her when she flew home for the holidays or summer vacations instead. “I know, you said they’re staying for a week or so, right?”
“About that,” Raven says, eyes up in the trees as if there was something to see. “There was something I needed to run by you.” She seemed nervous. Raven was hardly ever nervous about anything.
“Um, okay?” If Raven was nervous, then Lexa was panicking. “Is this a good or a bad thing?”
Raven “hms” in thought. “I suppose that would depend on perspective.” Alright, she was curious. “So, you see, Clarke graduated a couple of months ago with her degree in something art related or another,” she waves her hand as if the specifics weren’t important. Lexa knew she was more than aware of what exactly Clarke’s degree was in. “And Omaha isn’t exactly bustling with activity for her right now…”
“Uh huh,” Lexa encourages Raven to continue. “I doubt Omaha is bustling with activity for anyone.”
“Too true,” she answers quickly. “So anyway, Clarke was thinking about maybe staying out here for a little while, just to try and see what she can do in an area like San Fran.” So far this all seemed fine enough. “And I was wondering if she could maybe stay with us for a bit? Just until she saved up enough to get her own place of course.”
“Until she can save up...we live in the bay area, Raven!” she reminds her friend because clearly she’s forgotten. “It could take her a decade to save up that much. We can’t even afford where we live!”
Raven shrugs that sentiment away. “Clarke’s gotten all ‘I need something new’ on us. I think she’s just jealous,” Raven smiles, hands up in a “what can you do?” motion. “She’ll probably come to stay out here for a month or two, realize that it hasn’t solved all of her problems and go back home.”
Though she had never met Clarke, Raven spoke of and to her often. Lexa had seen snapchats and heard long rants of the loser guys Clarke was dating or the terrible job she was working. She’d never met Clarke, but Lexa had heard enough that she felt like she had.
“But she probably has more of a reason to be out here than you or I,” Raven tacks on. “Ms. running to the other side of the country from her parents and my unquelling need to be by the water and fellow beautiful people.”
“You moved here because you got a full ride to Stanford,” Lexa reminds Raven with a dry tone. “And I got into Stanford. Both very valid reasons to move to California.”
“Maybe,” she answers with a shrug. “But you also got into Harvard, Princeton, and University of Penn. You know, actual Ivy Leagues.” Raven points out. “Regardless, San Fran is the kinda artsy place Clarke will enjoy for a bit before getting tired of it and moving on to the next thing.”
It wasn’t unusual for Raven to give Clarke a hard time. She was her sister after all.
“And she’ll just sleep on our couch while working this out of her system?” Lexa asks, only entirely opposed to this concept. Lexa was an only child. It had been enough of an adjustment getting used to living with Raven. She wasn’t used to sharing a bathroom or fighting over who’s leftovers had been in the fridge. It took three months before she was comfortable enough to walk around the apartment without her bra on or with zit cream smeared all over her face. She adjusted to sharing that intimacy with anyone. Clarke would be another someone to get used to. Her presence in their living room would sequester Lexa to her bedroom whenever she wanted to hang out in her towel after a shower or not wash her hair for three days straight because she was too busy to be bothered with it.
“If you don’t mind?” And Raven’s the closest thing to a best friend Lexa has ever had, maybe even closer than family itself at this point. She rarely asks for much, except these daily walks and occasionally a designated driver.
“Alright,” Lexa never has been very good at disappointing people she loves.
“You’re the best,” Raven says, half smiling, which was essentially the equivalent of her launching herself into Lexa’s arms and yelling ‘thank you’ from the top of her lungs. “Also, they get here in three days, and I might have already told Clarke yes, so glad you agreed.”
Of course. “What would you have done if I said no?” Lexa wonders aloud.
Raven shrugs, “Probably beg, maybe lay on my tragic backstory a little bit until you broke down in pity.”
“You’re kind of a dick; you know that?”
Raven laughs, “Oh my darling, Lexa,” she throws an arm around her shoulders. “Two and a half years of friendship and you still put ‘kind of’ in front.” She places a fat, sloppy kiss on Lexa’s cheek. “One day you’ll learn."