Clexa one shots (the 100)

The Applicant 1/4

Not mine

http://archiveofourown.org/works/7861285/chapters/17951419

Sat in an underwhelming Italian restaurant, overpriced because it was downtown, Lexa stared at her watch (its band turned so the face rested on the inner part of her wrist) for the fifth time in as many minutes. The prospect—Clarke—was running several minutes late. It was probably a bad sign.

This was probably an awful idea.

She drew in a steady breath from semi-parted lips and looked, again, over Clarke's application. Full name, age, up-to-date health statistics, a small paragraph about herself...and her photo, paper-clipped to the top right corner of the page. She was good-looking. With bright eyes and hair. With a charming smirk that reached her eyes in a way Lexa couldn't pinpoint. It was almost mischievous.

And good-looking was—good. If she absolutely had to mate with an alpha woman, then at least this was a very stunning one. She felt her jaw clench as she tried to swallow. She supposed it was good.

Plus the young woman was brilliant. A biology major in her senior year with a perfect GPA; regularly at the head of the Dean's list, future valedictorian of UC Berkeley, and on her way to the ivy league for med school.

—Great bone structure.

There was a hitch in her line of thought and a similar one lodged a little in her throat.

Forget that. Completely.

Why am I even—having thoughts like this? It's better that she's attractive, sure, but that doesn't—doesn't guarantee anything. This is a logical decision. I have to make the best choice for myself, and my future little heir.

She was adamant that her emotions shouldn't register in who her choice should be. She'd talked this over quite a few times with her father, Titus Woods, who was the only member of her family fully supporting this...attempt; this plan.

It should be a logical decision, if it was going to work. A selection based on concrete reasoning.

Because, in the end, all her hopes were riding on it.

And this girl might be smart and pretty but—she was also quite tardy.

Though she clearly had a penchant for timing.

"Sorry!"

Her entrance was brash. Smiley and energetic.

"Class ran later than it normally does because everyone got all passionate about Gustav Klimt."

Lexa frowned, shaking her head a bit to clear it, "That's—um—isn't that an artist?"

Clarke nodded, enthusiastically, "I love his work."

"You're a Biology major."

"Pshhh," Clarke's lips pursed, a desultory breath leaking slowly out of her mouth as she sat down across Lexa, "That's—yeah—I had to quit that. I mean...I wrote it down because, at the time, it was still true. But I'm not anymore. I switched my major to Fine Arts. And my mom hates me for it. She did what I knew she'd do. Cut me right off. She says she's not wasting her money so I can throw my future away and I guess if I hadn't seen your ad on my broke college kids app she'd be pretty right about that. But I did. And...I did sort of put Biology down as my major because I knew being a future doctor sounds good on paper and you'd be more likely to call me for an interview. Sorry about that. I only lied to get my foot in the door with you."

Clarke's stare was intent; almost willfully sincere.

Lexa's mouth fell open an inch, thinking back at the blonde after lying you want to wax benevolent and honest? She bit her lip so as not to snort. This girl must be mad.