Catch Me, I'm Falling

September: Part II

In all honesty, Clarke wouldn't come to the football games if it weren't for her friends.
That was a lie, of course, as she always felt her eyes drawn towards Lexa's form as she nimbly dodged people and practically send the ball soaring across the field from muscled biceps and long fingers. Whether or not she liked it, Lexa had some sort of spell over Clarke, and Clarke was drawn to her like a moth to an open flame.
But pregaming with the delinquents was always fun, especially because that's what they were.
Delinquents.
The majority of the student population tended to forget that they were referred to as such for a reason, but, quite frankly, Clarke needed a bit of relaxation before she was anywhere near Lexa Woods, and the get-togethers with her friends helped satiate that need.
Bellamy, of course, had a reputation to keep as class president, so he acted as the DD, mother hen, making sure his friends didn't go off and do anything stupid, courtesy of the products of Green & Jordan Inc. In addition to their monopoly on the weed trade at the school, the two of them had also procured a still from somewhere, and thus, Monty's Famous Moonshine was born.
It tasted like ass and hurt like hell the next morning, but it was worth it for the buzz.
Anything was better than Raven's half assed drink concoction that she'd named Rocket Fuel . They only pulled that out when something particularly horrible happened. Most games against Azgeda, Murphy could be seen chugging it out of an insulated water bottle that Emori swapped in increments with an identical one filled with actual water to ensure her boyfriend didn't get too hammered.
It was at these moments Raven and Octavia's favorite person emerged: Drunk Clarke.
Also referred to as Party Girl Griffin, though the frequency of her appearance had lessened significantly after the passing of her father, for obvious reasons.
A few cups of moonshine in, and Clarke could feel her tension melting away, being replaced by contentedness and the inherent need to flirt with someone, anyone. This usually ended up being Bellamy, who would keep up with her rapid-fire pickup lines and inebriated attempts at affection, all whilst convincing her to drink water and laughing off her advances.
It had started as a joke.
Ever since Clarke and Bellamy had reached what people considered to be "dating age", they'd constantly been bombarded with questions on the state of their relationship with one another, and their flirting had become somewhat of a running gag within their friend group.
They'd known each other since they were in diapers, it'd be weird for them to date. Besides, Bellamy was like the brother Clarke never had.
At the moment, Clarke was poking the swell of Bellamy's abs, marvelling at how firm his stomach was, and pressing at her own softer belly in comparison, and frowning.
"Don't worry about it, Princess," Bellamy assured, "your stomach makes a much better pillow than mine, which makes it better." This seemed to placate the girl, and she grinned, before Raven slung her arm over the blonde's shoulders, grinning ear-to-ear.
"You ready to go watch the Grounders kick ass?"
"Did you mean ready to stare at Lexa's ass?" Octavia interjected, and Clarke shot her a nasty glare, sticking her tongue out at the smirking girl.
"'M not gonna stare at Woods's ass," Clarke pouted, shaking her head, "I mean, it is a great ass, not that I've noticed or anything, but I'm not gonna stare at it. That'd be rude." Bellamy shook his head in exasperation as the other two girls continued to tease Clarke, passing her a bottle of water and one of the burgers he'd brought along.
"Time to sober you up, Princess," he laughed, "can't have Abby knowing you were having too much fun, now, can we." Grudgingly, Clarke accepted the food and water, and the three girls began to make their way to the field, leaving Bellamy behind to grab Jasper and Monty, who were chasing pigeons around while Murphy laughed at their failed attempts to catch one.
Since the last time, Clarke had made sure to purchase another jacket from the student store, one without Lexa's number. Instead, it just said ARKADIA on the back, with the number 1957 , the year that the school had been founded. The last thing she wanted was for Lexa to think that she was there for her. No, she was just here for the alcohol, and the company...
Except that was one of the biggest lies ever, and Drunk Clarke acknowledged that.
She was doing an awful lot of lying recently, and the majority of her untruths were Lexa related.
Damn her and her perfect body and wide, expressive forest green eyes, that Clarke could get lost in for hours, trying to explore every shade and every detail.
Somehow, Monty ended up walking next to Clarke, grinning widely as he began explaining to her about some abstract physics concept that she couldn't comprehend at the moment, because the korean boy had led her away from her initial destination of the bleachers, and towards a secluded area where some of the football players were loitering, obviously waiting for the game to start, and her eyes were trained on a familiar butt.
Fuck Octavia, Clarke was going to stare all she wanted, morals be damned.
As though she could somehow sense the eyes on her, Lexa turned, and Clarke felt her breath catch in her throat.
There was something about the way Lexa applied her paint that seemed to eerily familiar, as though Clarke had seen it before somewhere. But that, of course, wasn't possible, because she didn't exactly live in a post-apocalyptic wasteland where people would have the need to apply warpaint like that.
Lexa's eyes narrowed in apparent confusion, and alarm bells went off in Clarke's mind as the other girl began to approach her, and she frantically turned to look for Monty, who had melted away into the crowd. Some help he is.
"Clarke?" At that exact moment, Clarke wished she had the power to melt into a puddle and seep into the ground, but she didn't flee. There was something about liquid courage that brought out the worst of her stubbornness.
"Hey, Lexa," Clarke greeted, and there was a cheeriness in her voice that she almost
didn't recognize, and it took Lexa by surprise. The other girl's eyes widened a fraction, before they narrowed in scrutiny, and she finally stopped to smirk in realization.
"You're drunk, aren't you?"
"Only a little," Clarke assured her.
"Alright, Clarke, what are you doing back here?"
"Monty dragged me along," Clarke repeated, before looking around once more for the dark haired boy and scowling, "and then left me."
"How rude," Lexa chuckled, shaking her head.
"It's alright, I guess," Clarke shrugged, "I love Monty, he has a pretty voice." He absolutely demolished the other delinquents on karaoke night. "You know what else is pretty? Your eyes." Lexa stopped chuckling abruptly, staring at Clarke as though her head had fallen off, mouth agape, and Clarke made an offended noise.
"What? It's true," she insists, "they're just so green . I could get lost in them." She and Lexa have somehow managed to get closer to one another, so Clarke could now see the flecks of yellow in the green, and found it utterly fascinating. There was a moment of comfortable silence as the two of them stared at each other, and then someone cleared their throat.
It wass Monty, and Clarke found that she wanted to punch him now much more than she had when he left her, as Lexa stepped away from her quickly, eyes looking anywhere but the blonde, and Clarke swore she saw a pink tinge to the commander's cheeks, but that's ridiculous. There was no reason to be flustered, it was just Clarke.
"C'mon Clarke," Monty urged, nodding his head in the direction of a frantic-looking Bellamy, who appeared to be searching for them, tugging Jasper around by the arm so as to not let the other boy escape, "before Bell has an aneurysm."
She turned to say goodbye to Lexa, but found that the brunette has already made her hasty getaway, and, for some reason, Clarke felt the tug of something akin to disappointment in her chest.
It was just the alcohol, of course.
She really needed to stop lying to herself.
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As their tutoring sessions had progressed, Aden found himself talking to Clarke more and more often, the two blondes quickly establishing a close bond with one another. Now, though, Aden had a specific game plan, a goal in mind.
"How's your week been?" Clarke opened in greeting, pulling out the lesson plan she'd drafted for him in order to keep him on track for Trikru's class, and Aden pulled a face.
"I'm exhausted," he confided, "I didn't believe Lexa when she told me I'd suddenly be tired 24/7, and severely underestimated how much high school drains a person." Clarke laughed and smiled at him sympathetically.
"Yeah, freshman year was a rude awakening. I have faith that you'll get the hang of it by senior year though, because you're a smart cookie."
"Can cookies even be smart?" Aden laughed, and Clarke rolled her eyes at the younger boy.
"Apparently they can both be smart and smartasses," she shot back, and Aden grinned shamelessly, "you little menace, I'm trying to compliment you." He merely continued grinning, and the two of them easily fell into their usual pattern of work, Clarke's explanations as crystal clear as always. Aden, however, was distracted, wracking his mind for incidents he could bring up, moments that would make his sister look good in his tutor's eyes.
"―Aden? You with me?"
He snapped to attention, shrugging sheepishly. "Sorry," he apologized quickly, "just thinking."
"About what?" Clarke specifically changed the tone of her voice to let Aden know that he didn't have to answer her if he didn't want to, which the blonde boy appreciated immensely. Clarke had never once infringed upon his privacy, and was perhaps one of the most respectful people he had ever met.
"This one time when I was little," Aden opened, setting up his story, "probably like, five or six, I was at the zoo with Anya and Lexa, and I really wanted to go and look at the monkeys." He paused, smiling to himself at the memory. "But Lexa wanted ice cream first, and Aunt Indra didn't want to deal with sugar-deprived Lexa, so we got ice cream cones on our way to the monkey exhibit, and, when we were there, a monkey came right up to me, I was so excited, and then it just snatched the ice cream out of my hand."
Clarke was probably wondering what any of this had to do with math, but nodded along, intrigued.
"I started bawling, of course," Aden continued, "and Anya was laughing at me. But not Lexa, she just wordlessly gave me her own ice cream, even though she'd made such a fuss about getting it, just to cheer me up." Clarke looked at him inquisitively, an odd look on her face that Aden couldn't quite place.
"Interesting," she muttered to herself, but then shook her head and turned back to the textbook, "while monkeys are far more interesting than math, I'm afraid you've got some studying to do."
The smaller of the two blondes pouted somewhat, but returned to his work as instructed.
As he scratched his worked into the lined piece of paper, carefully following Clarke's instructions, he began shaking his leg up and down as was a habit of his, and he yelped as he hit his knee sharply on the edge of the table.
"Nomonjoka ," he hissed under his breath, and Clarke's blue eyes snapped up to meet his, widened in both confusion and concern.
"You alright there, bud?"
"Yeah," he brushed it off, "just hit my knee, is all." "Out of curiosity, what language was that?"
Aden blinked owlishly as the question took a moment to register, and his cheeks darkened in slight embarrassment. He was usually so good at not using the secret language around people that didn't know it.
"Trigedasleng."
"Trigedasleng?" The word rolled off of Clarke's tongue experimentally, and she furrowed her brows in confusion. "I don't think I've ever heard of that language."
"You wouldn't have," Aden admitted, "it's something that Anya, Lexa, and Lincoln made up when we were younger."
"Really?"
Aden nodded enthusiastically.
"Yup. We'd always be told to stay out of the action when they had company dinner parties and such, and there's a treehouse at our parents' place where the four of us would go hide out until everyone was gone." He paused. "I think it was Lexa's idea, to come up with a language that we could talk in without the adults knowing what we were saying, and it's evolved through the years."
"Where'd you get trigedasleng from?"
"Well, tri because it was made in a treehouse, geda because we made it together, and sleng is like slang, I dunno it just made sense." He shrugged. He had fond memories of building the language with his sister, even though he was so young when the idea initially popped into the older girl's mind. As they grew, the language grew with them, and he could recall many occasions in which they'd used it to subtly make fun of attendees of the dinner parties and balls that their parents would host on occasion, the stuck up men and women none the wiser.
"It's been our little group secret since then, so I guess you know about it now." Aden grinned at her teasingly. "Don't tell anyone or I'll have to kill you."
Clarke smiled at him softly, crossing her heart.
"Promise," she vowed solemnly, "but, out of curiosity, what does nomonjoka mean?" Aden turned bright pink and Clarke smirked at him as he stuttered, stumbling over his words.
"Uh. well, it's. It's a curse word," he admitted.
"I got that from how closely you resemble a tomato at the moment," Clarke teased, and Aden scowled at her goodnaturedly.
"It means," he paused dramatically, "motherfucker." Clarke gasped in faux horror, eyes widening, and the two of them descended into a fit of giggles.
"Can you teach me more?" Clarke asked. "I mean, if it's not too much to ask? I think it's interesting."
"Sure!" Aden beamed. "It's the least I can do for you, seeing as you're the only reason I'm passing my math class right now. So, we can start with some of the basics, like colors and numbers, and then work our way up to more complicated things..."
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"I should've guessed it." Lexa announced with a smirk, acknowledging the way Clarke's eyes scanned her face, then her jersey and her slim fitting jeans before returning to rest on her emerald gaze.
Clarke was sitting at the most secluded table in the far back of the library, the little reading nook and couple's table far away from any commotion. Clarke's blonde hair was free flowing with a crowning sort of braid that caught the rays of light from the window, golden and ablaze.
"Guessed what?" Clarke decided to bite, sliding her chair a little so that Lexa could join her.
Lexa slid her messenger bag over her shoulder, and Clarke noticed the expensive leatherwork. There was no doubt that she was the "Darcy" of their little arrangement.
"That you'd want to meet here." Lexa motioned to the towers of books that surrounded them on either side, the endless bridges of knowledge and light that roared back against the chasm of ignorance and bigotry.
Of course Clarke would be there.
"Who was it that said that Libraries are the fine red line between civilization and barbarism?" Lexa challenged wryly. "Gaiman?"
"So the Quarterback reads." Clarke offered Lexa a smile, and Lexa reciprocated. "Which are you, then?"
"Sorry?"
"Are you civilized?" Clarke smirked. "Or barbaric?"
Lexa's smirk was dripping with a suggestion Clarke dared not consider. "Both, I think, are useful traits, at appropriate times."
Clarke felt chills and immediately returned back to her outline of the latest chapter. Lexa seemed smug, before she'd even opened her mouth.
"We're not talking about the pre-game comments." Clarke mumbled, flipping through the pages indignantly.
Lexa, much to Clarke's surprise, let out a soft chuckle. "The feeling is mutual, by the way." Lexa added, reaching into her bag for her book.
"Huh?" Clarke froze, swallowing.
"Your eyes..." Lexa shrugged nonchalantly, a smile pulling at her full lips. "I could get lost in yours, too."
"Oh." Clarke felt the familiar heat of an embarrassed blush creep up her neck, passing her cheeks. "Thank you. You know, you and your brother both have a propensity to chat away the study hours."
Lexa smiled at the thought of Aden talking Clarke's head off.
"Well, we are siblings. But I like to think my 'chatter' is refined." Lexa defended with a fake huff, listening to Clarke's giggle as they set about writing the first of many letters between Darcy and Elizabeth.
They worked together in unison, listening to the hushed whispers from several rows away, occasionally glancing up at each other when they thought they were being discreet.
Clarke learned three incredibly frustrating things, on that fine afternoon.
The first of which: Lexa was almost impossible not to stare at. She was a goddess amongst mere mortals at Arkadia, and that was saying something, because Clarke had thought the Blakes were the most attractive people she'd ever seen.
But Lexa Woods was simply ethereal. Her brunette locks cascaded over her shoulder, parted elegantly to the side, allowing her emerald gaze to dominate her features. Her jawline was structured and tight, like a marble statue of perfection. Her lips were full and luscious, and Clarke caught herself wondering what they tasted like.
She attributed that to her stupid teenage hormones.
It didn't mean anything.
The second of Clarke's little discoveries was that Lexa had a beautiful smile, that was contagious. It wasn't even a smile, really. It was a smirk, and then, if Clarke was lucky, it would bloom into a toothy sort of smirk, almost a smile.
And it had Clarke, like every other girl within a 100 mile radius, swooning.
But of course, Clarke was different. She knew Lexa Woods was an asshole. Egotistical, showboating...and incredibly fine.
Clarke wanted to be angry. She wanted to be angry when Lexa would glance up from her work and catch Clarke staring, and then throw her a smirk and sometimes a wink before going back to writing her poetry as if it came as naturally to her as breathing air.
But Clarke felt that insufferably warm breeze blow right through her, and her anger dissipated. She found that she was smiling back, rather dumbly.
"You know." Lexa had interrupted at some point, twirling her pen between her long, deft fingers, and Clarke tried not to think of what else those fingers were good at.
Costia.
Those fingers were currently doing Costia Greene.
And Clarke was back to normal, with those disturbing thoughts. Stupid teenage mind with its stupid dirty impulses.
"Hmm?" Clarke hummed, setting her pencil down as she turned to Lexa, watching the girl lean forward, her voice dropping.
"Your tongue sticks out when you focus." Lexa commented, so close that Clarke could smell her perfume.
It was good. Intoxicatingly good, not too sweet, not jarringly strong, either. "Sorry." Clarke shook her head, bashfully. "I-"
Lexa pouted slightly, and Clarke knew it was subconscious. "Don't apologize. It's cute. Just...an observation."
Before Clarke could open her mouth, she heard soft giggling, paired with harsh whispers behind her. She recognized one of the girls, at the head of the flock. It was a freshman girl, Charlotte something or another, who hadn't shut the hell up about Lexa since she arrived.
And that was the third thing she'd learned, or at least, remembered: Lexa Woods had a goddamn fan club, consisting mostly of little girls who cared little for football, but plenty for her undeniably good looks.
Essentially, she was Lexa's number one fan, her stalker, her biggest admirer. She had the hots for Lexa Woods.
So did everyone else at this godforsaken institution, apparently.
"We don't have time for this." Clarke rolled her eyes.
Much to Clarke's surprise, Lexa nodded in agreement. "You're telling me." Clarke smirked. "What? Don't tell me your ego doesn't enjoy this."
Lexa frowned. "Clarke. No one wants to be stalked by fourteen year olds." Clarke nodded. "True." She let out a little laugh.
Charlotte and her friends decided to walk by at that moment, as if it hadn't been completely obvious that they were planning it for some time in the corner.
"Hi, Lexa." Charlotte put on her best sultry voice, which wasn't saying much, as the girl hadn't really even taken the brunt of puberty yet.
At least, not compared to Lexa and Clarke's eighteen year old prowess.
Lexa smiled weakly, waving a little. "Hi Charlotte." She offered unflinchingly, shaking her head with a wry smile as the girl practically scurried off, but not without shooting a hard glare at Clarke.
"Did you see that?" Clarke gaped.
Lexa cocked her head to the side in a silent question, and Clarke swore it was maybe, secretly, one of the most endearing things she'd ever seen in her life.
"Charlotte gave me the death glare." Clarke clarified, turning in her seat to make sure they were alone once more.
"She does that to Costia too." Lexa winced. "By-product of being in my proximity, I'm afraid." Clarke nodded, shaking her head in exasperation, a sly smile pulling at her lips.
But all of that fun banter ended rather abruptly when the library fire alarms, the nearest one just in line with Clarke's vision on the wall before them, began blasting, lights flashing exaggeratedly.
Lexa's eyes widened in surprise as she heard several library clerks yell, over the din and the commotion, "It's a test! It's just a test! Please remain seated!"
At those words, Lexa relaxed back into her seat, allowing her eyes to fall to Clarke. At the sight of the blonde, her eyes widened, and her heart seemed to fold in on itself.
Clarke looked absolutely shocked, almost catatonic. Her blue eyes were wide with what Lexa began to perceive as fear. Her hands had flown to her temples, where she seemed to ground herself, her gaze averted past the flashing lights to the solid wood of the table they shared.
Lexa could see that Clarke wasn't coping well, that this had triggered something far more potent within her.
"Clarke?" Lexa called over the blaring of the alarms. She glanced around, but no one seemed to be present in their area. "Hey, Clarke..." She gently reached out to touch Clarke, getting nothing but Clarke's labored breathing in response.
Lexa felt her heart tear up at whatever was happening to the girl before her. Instinct took over, much like it did on the football field, and Lexa's hands were guiding themselves to Clarke's cheeks as she faced the girl fully, tilting Clarke's head towards hers.
Her emerald gaze had locked with Clarke's cerulean stare and she knew she'd broken through.
"Clarke." She whispered, knowing Clarke's eyes could trace her lips, if not hear her, or feel her vibrations at the very least. "It's okay." She murmured, every trace of humor, malice, competitiveness in her tone, gone.
She felt like she'd known this girl all her life, that her only purpose was to calm her, to get that horrified look out of her once happy, bright gaze.
"You're safe." Lexa told her, and Clarke's eyes traced her lips, nodding almost imperceptibly. "I'm here." Lexa promised.
And Clarke Griffin broke.
She buried herself into Lexa's shoulder, in the nook between her neck and the slight dip of her muscled shoulder, breathing in raggedly as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Lexa didn't think when her arms went around the girl, just as they had so many times when Aden was distraught over their parents' absence, or when Anya had her first bad breakup. She was soothing Clarke with little rubs on her back, allowing the girl to cling to her while she offered solace, safety, warmth.
She fought the urge to bury her nose into Clarke's sweet smelling golden locks.
She watched Clarke recede into the shell of the person she'd been earlier, so competitive and snarky and full of life.
She whispered and cooed silent reassurances, promises she didn't know she could make. And then it was over.
The alarms stopped, the lights returned to their normal state, and all that could be heard was Clarke's sniffling as she froze, going rigid in Lexa's embrace.
And then she yanked herself back together, standing up, as her hands frantically wiped at the tears in her eyes. She grabbed her bag and whipped around, leaving despite Lexa's soft calls.
She left her sketches on the table, with the little stub of an art pencil she had left.
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The hallways were bustling, much like the bumper to bumper traffic on the local freeway on weekends. Hell, the kids even honked and cussed like they had road rage.
Clarke felt like a sardine, packed between rows and rows of monotony, yet, of her own kind.
It was oddly comforting, the normalcy of it all, especially since her incredibly embarrassing run in with Lexa Woods.
God, she was pathetic.
Clarke was in a state of utter confusion. Yes, she'd been triggered, that had happened to her before. What surprised her was Lexa. Lexa's reaction, Lexa's behavior.
She'd expected laughter.
She'd expected Lexa to make fun of her, to point and stare at the senior who couldn't handle the fire alarm, without ever getting to know the reason why and then offering Clarke a meek apology before someone else eventually did it.
Clarke's eyes had been scanning the rows of heads before her, mostly those of shorter freshmen who hadn't quite discovered the wonders of deodorant. And then she noticed them making way.
They never made room. Of course it was for her.
Lexa Woods was there, parting the red sea of freshmen like Moses himself, as they all took a little moment to stare at her ass, whisper something in awe, or simply grumble something about "owning the hallway".
She watched the way Lexa's emerald eyes found hers throughout the crowd, and how a soft smile pulled on her full lips, nothing like the smirk she'd seen time and time again. Lexa weaved her way in and out of the clumps of students like she was a fine sports car in a traffic jam.
She stopped right beside Clarke, brushing against her, her lips almost by Clarke's ear. Clarke felt chills shoot through her body at the close contact, but Lexa didn't dare touch her. "Here." She murmured softly, handing Clarke's sketches and her notebook over.
Clarke wanted to say something. She felt like she had to apologize, even, for ruining a perfectly good study session. Clarke wanted to apologize for being so broken. So poorly bent out of shape and incapable of handling the simplest of tasks.
But Lexa's eyes told her she didn't have to be sorry at all.
"Next time―" Lexa whispered with a friendly smile. "―you don't have to run away, Clarke." She murmured, giving Clarke's wrist the tiniest of squeezes.
Before Clarke could reply, Lexa was gone, leaving her to blink in confusion. What had just happened?
Clarke glanced down at her weighty sketchbook, biting her lip as she flipped the front cover open. Taped inside were two art pencils, the exact same model she used, new and fully sharpened.
Clarke felt something erupt inside her chest, and realized it was her heart.
The only other person who had these pencils was Costia.
Lexa must have asked for them.
Clarke didn't know whether to feel anger, for Lexa's apparent pity, or overwhelming emotion because Lexa noticed.
Clarke didn't know how to feel at all. She settled on numbness.
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Jake had once told Clarke that art was the gateway to the soul, and that it would reflect whatever it was she felt at the moment. He told her that art was patient, creeping, slow, and that it took time. He taught her how to hold her hand steady as she gently caressed the brush over the canvas, telling her that there was no room for shakiness in art. You found a muse and pursued it with as much confidence as you could muster, regardless of whether or not it looked good. The key to art was perseverance.
But Jake wasn't there to guide Clarke through periods of artistic rut, to strum his fingers on his old guitar and coax emotions into his daughter.
If she closed her eyes, she could see him in the art studio with her, right hand grasped firmly around Clarke's small left wrist, showing her how to treat her paint with care and how to carefully bring masterpieces to life, how to fill a blank canvas with color and emotion and hope.
He had been there throughout her slashes of dark reds and oranges, the soft strokes of pale yellows and blues, and then the rich, dark purples and dripping ebony. He hadn't been there for the grey, and then the period of utter blankness, but he had been responsible for it all the same.
Now, however, Clarke was on her own, and in an utter stump in regards for what to paint. Artist's block was a bitch.
Especially when there was a due date looming on the horizon.
Clarke needed that art scholarship, and she would do absolutely everything in her power to get it.
Jake might not have been there to play his old guitar, that was now gathering dust in the corner of the room, untouched, but Clarke had her phone, and dozens of playlists that Raven had compiled for her, which was the next best thing.
She wasn't even listening to the words, but the deep, crashing beat got her going, and before she knew it, Clarke was painting.
It wasn't too hard to tap into her anger, because there was plenty of it. But, above all, it was an anger fueled by confusion. As she mixed greens on her pallette, Clarke's lips tugged downward into a small frown.
For the longest time, her life had been very clear-cut.
There were people she liked, and people she didn't.
People who were rude, and people who were nice.
They were split into two very distinctive groups, and Clarke had always been able to differentiate between the two of them.
Except now she couldn't. Because of Lexa fucking Woods.
From the first time Clarke had―quite embarrassingly―dropped her sketchbook onto Lexa's perfect, even-laced boots, she had known that the two of them wouldn't get along. There was something about the brunette that exuded arrogance, paired with a haughty smirk that was absolutely maddening.
Quite frankly, Clarke would have been content to not speak a word to Lexa in her entire high school fate, but fate―or rather, Niylah Crewe―had other ideas.
Slowly but surely, that image of Lexa that she'd first had was being chipped away.
Of course, Lexa was still an asshole, but she'd seen a glimpse into the other layers of the quarterback, and Clarke cursed her endless curiosity, because now she wanted to know more about the girl.
Because Lexa had cared .
She'd seen Clarke, broken and shaking, an absolute mess, and instead of ridiculing her and
sneering, she'd taken her into her arms and done her best to make her feel safe. And the worst part was that it worked .
Clarke had been utterly mortified, but then Lexa had gone and surprised her yet again , and softly informed her that she didn't need to run from her.
It took Clarke a while to notice, but the shades of green making their way onto the previously blank canvas were painstakingly familiar, and she knew that the wide irises staring back at her belonged to none other than the girl she had set out to hate.
A soft rap on the door to her makeshift art studio snapped Clarke of her intrusive thoughts, and she knew before it opened that it was her mother. Raven usually just barged in without asking.
"Hey, mom," Clarke greeted, turning down the volume to her music and turning to greet the older woman, who smiled at her, holding up a plate of brunch leftovers.
"Hungry?"
Clarke's stomach grumbled as though on cue, and she laughed softly as she happily accepted the plate.
"You know me so well," Clarke teased, and Abby scoffed.
"Of course I do, I'm your mother." She sat down opposite Clarke, cross-legged on the ground, with her own plate of food, and the two ate in silence for a few moments, merely soaking up each other's presence.
"I heard that angry screeching you kids nowadays call music," she opened casually, "and figured I should come in here and bring you food before you threw something."
While Clarke was far from a violent person, she'd been known to get a little too caught up in her art sessions, which was why, in the corner of the room, there was a small hole, framed by an elegant gold piece, with the familiar, loopy handwriting that had signed off on all of Clarke's permission slips when she was younger, 'Clarke Griffin. Anger. 2014'. Abby had given Clarke the scolding of her life as she bandaged bruised, bleeding knuckles, and had yelled even more when Jake framed it, but now the hole was a bittersweet reminder of the times Clarke had spent in this room with her father.
"I'm sure the wall appreciates your efforts," Clarke responded with a tight smile, and she could practically feel her mother's concern, and blue eyes snapped up to meet dark brown.
"I had another attack today," she confessed, and her heart panged when Abby's expression immediately fell, reaching out with her hand to grab her daughter's, rubbing soothing circles with her thumb.
"I'm so sorry you have to go through this," Abby breathed, and Clarke could feel the tears forming, and tried desperately to blink them away. "I thought they were getting better?"
"They were," Clarke said, steeling herself. She'd cried too much this week already. "There was a fire drill, unplanned, after school." Abby's lips pursed in understanding, and she moved her other hand to cup Clarke's face gently, and before she knew it, Clarke was being pulled into a hug.
Clarke had always been her father's daughter, and there was nothing more she missed in the world than his giant bear hugs, which felt like home, the musk of his cologne as she buried her face in his shoulder, the crinkles in his shirt and the scruffiness of his facial hair, the cool press of the golden watch, which now hung around her own wrist, against her back. She had never been particularly close to her mother, and the two of them had made leaps to fix that after Jake's passing.
It wasn't one of her father's hugs, but there was something about a mother's embrace that was equally as comforting, and Clarke allowed herself to lean into the hug, leeching as much love and support from her as she could, and she felt safe.
She couldn't help but think about Lexa's arms, and how her embrace had made her feel. Maybe she didn't hate the other girl quite so much as she thought she did.
————————————————————————
Octavia had called in sick to her shift at the Dropship, and Clarke knew it was a coverup to spend some much needed downtime with Lincoln, whom she hadn't seen much of due to the hectic football schedule.
It was Wednesday evening, and Clarke was working the 6-10 pm shift.
The Dropship was as barren and desolate as a graveyard, and all that was missing to illustrate its emptiness was perhaps a passing tumbleweed.
Wells was in the back, busying himself with inventory, and chatting with the current cook, namely, Nathan Miller.
Clarke wished she'd been able to converse with them, but she was one of only two waitresses for the evening shift, and she needed eyes upfront.
She'd been attempting to do some of Mr. Kane's history homework when the door swung open, revealing a very tired but regal looking Lexa woods, her hair tied in a messy bun behind her, underarmour black, long sleeved shirt clinging to every inch of her incredibly toned body. And best of all, Costia Greene was nowhere to be seen.
Clarke hated the way she felt a little noise start up in the back of her throat instead of a proper greeting.
Lexa's emerald gaze glinted with some sort of recognition when she saw Clarke, and she offered Clarke a little smile, moving to sit at the secluded little booth in the corner. Besides one lady in the opposite, far corner, they were the only two in the restaurant.
Clarke grabbed a menu and headed over, doing her best to smile, just in case Wells was watching her performance. Making her way over, she set the menu in front of Lexa, meeting her gaze with little mind to the rhythmic thumping of her nervous heart.
"Hi." Clarke settled on the simplest of greetings.
"Clarke." Lexa rolled the C and the L, leaving the K sharp, the way that made Clarke reanalyze her name like it was one of Aden's math equations. "How are you?"
Clarke almost did a double take. No one usually asked.
"I'm...alright." Clarke admitted with a shrug. "How are you? You look...tired. In a good way."
Lexa chuckled at that. "I am. I figured it'd be easier to stop by and grab something for Aden and myself, rather than force our aunt to cook us something."
Clarke had read articles. Lexa's parents were incredibly wealthy business people. They'd moved to France to work on their new startup. Perhaps Lexa wasn't a stranger to parental abandonment after all. They must have resided with Anya's parents, Indra and Gustus. That couldn't have been entirely comfortable.
"Right." Clarke smiled at the mention of Aden. "How is he?"
Lexa blinked, a surprised little smile on her expression. No one usually asked about Aden. "He's well. And, maybe, in love with you."
Clarke couldn't help it. She grinned at that, shaking her head. "It's mutual."
Lexa shook her head at her brother's unspoken antics, pushing the menu back towards Clarke. "You already know what you want to order?" Clarke asked in surprise. "For Aden, too?"
Lexa laughed lightly, and Clarke found herself in awe at the beauty of the sound, the way waves of little flutters ran over her when she heard it. "Aden wants chicken tenders, that's all the kid ever eats. I'll grab some for him on my way out."
Clarke nodded, biting her lip to keep from thinking of Lexa's laugh rather than listening to her order. "And for you?"
"Your recommendation." Lexa smirked, folding her arms.
"Um..." Clarke froze. "What do you like?"
"Take a guess." Lexa shrugged. "I'm testing you."
"You look like you like protein shakes and quinoa salads, neither of which are served here...thank god." Clarke rolled her eyes.
Lexa looked insanely amused. "That's...actually true. I suppose I'm too obvious."
Clarke couldn't help the answer before she blurted it out. "I mean, one look at you..." She motioned up and down, and swore she saw a tint of red on Lexa's cheeks. "...Just ask Charlotte." She threw in, and Lexa took her turn to roll her eyes.
"So...a salad." Lexa decided.
"Pretty good grilled chicken salad here." Clarke nodded. "Will that work?"
Lexa agreed, and Clarke set off to place the order, her head spinning with the resonating echo of Lexa's melodious laugh.
Wells was humming to himself as he carried a box of napkins, smiling when he saw Clarke.
"Still mad your shift isn't over?" He quipped knowingly.
Clarke stuck her tongue out at him, calling her order to Miller and his assistants in the back. "As the matter of fact, yes I am. There's no one here, and Kane's homework isn't going to do itself."
Wells let out a chuckle. "Marcus Kane? Had him last year. He assigns a lot, but...if you make a good impression, you're in."
Clarke nodded, taking the advice to heart. "My mom's going in for a parent teacher conference, which is incredibly stupid because she works there, but...I hope she can schmooze him a little. Hell, I could use the relief."
Wells agreed with a low hum. "Worth a shot, right? Sorry I can't pull any strings for you. You'd think having your father as the school principal would do something for you, but...Nope. In fact, I think he expects more."
Clarke shook her head, patting Wells on the shoulder. "It's a cruel world, isn't it, Jaha?"
"I'll say." Wells chuckled, hopping back onto the counter. "And promspects?"
"Huh?" Clarke blinked, wondering if she'd maybe damaged her hearing from the loud fire alarms. "Promspects. You know, prom prospects? Dates?" Wells tried again, a small smile on his features. "Wells, are you asking me to prom?" Clarke smirked at her best friend. "In...September?"
Wells rolled his eyes. "I was asking if you had your sights set on anyone." He shot a glance towards Lexa, and Clarke's gaze followed. She was typing away at her phone, a small smile on her face.
It was either Costia, or Aden, and Clarke found herself praying for the latter.
"So, what about Woods?" Wells smirked. "You diggin' Arkadia's Commander? Because it looks like-"
"No. She's dating Costia." Clarke answered abruptly, sharply. "And...she's egotistical, in the spotlight with a weird fanclub, and-"
"Rich, like, filthy rich." Wells added with a look of seriousness. "Yesterday her parents became business partners with the owners."
Clarke's jaw dropped. "What?" She gasped. "Why?"
Wells shrugged. "Don't question miracles, Clarke. You and Octavia get a raise, though. Maybe you ought to be friends with her."
Clarke rolled her eyes. "Don't bribe me into friendship on her behalf, Wells. It doesn't suit you."
Wells chuckled, turning to accept the plate of salad that had just been run out to her. "Whatever, Clarke. Just remember: Don't charge her anymore, and do whatever she asks."
Clarke looked ready to protest.
"Clarke, don't you want to have enough to afford popcorn for our next movie night?" Wells reminded with a sage voice.
"Yes." Clarke sighed. "But I'd have to work for eternity, who charges ten dollars for a small popcorn?"
Wells shook his head. "You and I should marry rich." He teased, turning back to his work.
Clarke laughed at that, carrying the plate over to Lexa, who immediately set her phone aside. She noticed Aden's contact name flashing on the screen, and bit back a smile. At least Lexa was paying attention to him.
"Here we go." Clarke smiled, setting the dish before her. "You need anything and I'll be right back there." Clarke motioned to her makeshift study area, rows and rows of booths away.
To Clarke's surprise, Lexa frowned slightly, an adorable pout that contradicted the personality she'd laid out for herself. "Would you care to join me?"
"I..uh..." Clarke swallowed. What was happening? "I can't. I'm working." Lexa smirked. "There's no one here, Clarke." She pointed out.
Dammit Clarke. Way to be obvious.
"I should be studying for Kane's first test." Clarke mumbled, heart racing at the prospect of sitting with Lexa. Why? She was just as social, just as popular. This wasn't a popularity issue at all. Was it because of the way Lexa had handled her anxiety attack? Why was she feeling so incredibly nervous around the girl?
Lexa's smirk only grew. "I'm his TA. He's postponing it."
"What?" Clarke's eyes widened, and she gasped a little. "Since when?" She demanded wryly. "Since this afternoon." Lexa informed. "I'll be switching into his fourth period class to assist." Clarke went numb. "I'm in that class."
"Oh?" Lexa smiled. "Maybe we'll get a spare second to work on our project."
"Maybe." Clarke nodded.
"So..." Lexa motioned to the booth seat across from her. "Please."
"I feel like you don't take rejection well." Clarke noted with a smirk.
Lexa bit her lip, and Clarke had to admire the feeling it sent through her. "Is that what this is? A rejection?"
"No." Clarke smiled, taking the seat across from her. "I guess I can spare a few moments to catch up with Arkadia's darling."
"You're the darling." Lexa shrugged, taking a quiet bite. "I'm the Commander."
Clarke snorted, blushing when Lexa smiled up at the sound. "Costia's the darling. You two are the cliche couple no one asked for."
Lexa didn't bristle. Instead, she cocked her head to the side, and Clarke felt her insides melt a little. "You two don't get along?" She asked softly.
"Not particularly, no." Clarke shrugged nonchalantly, though she felt heat build within her. "She never mentioned me?"
Lexa shook her head, frowning. She looked genuinely bothered. "Why?"
Clarke rolled her eyes. "To be honest, I'm...not entirely comfortable discussing it with her lover." Clarke's residual venom rang in the last word, and Lexa's gaze found her salad to be very interesting.
"Are you alright?" Lexa asked after a moment of silence.
This time, it was Clarke who cocked her head in confusion. "Hmm?" She asked, unsure.
"You..." Lexa prefaced it with a gentle sigh. "You don't have to talk about what happened, the other day in the library, I just wanted to make sure you're alright."
Clarke felt her resolve melting away at Lexa's tone, her cockiness buried beneath waves of genuine care. "I'm...sorry you had to see that." Clarke's cheeks reddened. "That was incredibly-"
"Okay." Lexa finished, shaking her head. "Don't apologize, Clarke. You certainly don't need my validation for feeling a certain way."
Clarke froze.
That was unexpected. She'd gotten the "I'm sorry" and the "poor baby" lines so many times, she'd forgotten what genuine acknowledgment of her illness felt like.
It was sweetly liberating. Clarke bit her lip, incredibly unsure about the next words that spilled out of her mouth.
"I think, maybe, we got off to a rough start." Clarke murmured, eyes settling in the eden of Lexa's eyes.
Lexa nodded, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I should hope I proved that I'm a little more than a brainless jock. Did you know I have received over thirty copies of Airbud?" She smirked and Clarke felt personally attacked by how attractive it was.
Clarke felt her cheeks redden at that. "That was...so uncalled for."
"No, it wasn't." Lexa sighed, sounding as if apologizing tasted bitter. "I...attacked a great novel."
"You think Pride and Prejudice is a great novel?" Clarke gasped, a shit eating grin on her face.
"I...do." Lexa rolled her eyes. "Please, keep this between you and me."
Clarke giggled, and Lexa's expression immediately brightened. "What else don't I know about you?"
"A lot, if you're still going to judge me based on the 'popular Quarterback' theory you seem dead set on believing."
Clarke nodded slowly, taking in a breath. She stuck her hand out, and Lexa eyed it wearily. "Hi, I'm Clarke Griffin. Enthusiast of nature, reading, art, and the color green."
Lexa felt an idiotic smile on her face as she shook Clarke's outstretched hand with her own.
"Alexandria Woods, enthusiast of health, space, and the color blue."
Clarke took it all in. "Alexandria, huh?" She let out a little whistle. "That's beautiful."
Lexa shook her head. "So was your piece, that you were working on the other day. The one where the forest met the sky..." She spoke as if she were in a trance.
"You saw that?" Clarke asked shyly, wishing she'd stop reacting at every damn word that came out of the other girl's mouth.
Lexa nodded. "I...it was incredible. I felt like...I'd seen that, somewhere before." Clarke nodded, lips parted slightly. "Really? Me too, I-"
The front door to the diner swung open, revealing three particularly entitled looking boys, two of whom Clarke, who'd been facing the door, immediately recognized.
Clarke stiffened, words dying on her lips, and Lexa's head shot around to take in the boys, her eyes scanning them diligently. They hadn't noticed Clarke or Lexa just yet.
"You know them?" Lexa asked, her voice inquisitive, and if Clarke wasn't mistaken, defensive.
"Dated one." Clarke replied evenly, her eyes finding the middle boy, with the shaggy hair and wry smile.
"You dated Finn Collins?" Lexa quirked a brow, taking in their posh uniform coats, buttoned to the ties that haphazardly swung out now that the school day was over.
"You know them?" Clarke fired back in surprise.
"I went to Mount Weather." Lexa shifted uncomfortably. "Not conducive to a wonderful football career. Great for the arts, though."
Clarke nodded, biting her lip nervously. "That's Cage Wallace, the headmaster's son. He...let's not go there. He has a bit of a thing for me."
At that, Lexa's gaze steeled. "Is it mutual?"
Clarke scoffed. "It's harassment. Who...who's the other one? The loud one?" She asked quietly, refusing to look at Finn.
Lexa rolled her eyes. "That's Carl Emerson. He's...a real delinquent."
Clarke nodded, sucking in a breath. "I should go."
Lexa regarded Clarke with a sliver of concern. "Can't the other waiter handle it?"
Clarke shook her head. "I have to afford those art supplies somehow, right?" She offered Lexa a little smile. "But...it was fun, meeting you." She teased slightly, sliding out of her seat.
"The bill, Clarke." Lexa reminded lightly, long fingers nervously tapping away at the table.
Clarke shook her head. "You know you don't get one."
Lexa exasperatedly shook her head in response, pulling out her wallet. "Well let me at least-"
"Hey, babe!" Cage called from his booth, waving Clarke over. "You coming? We're kinda hungry here."
Clarke bit her lip, her fists curling at her sides. "I hate this fucking job." She muttered, putting on a faux smile as she turned around.
Lexa tilted her head, definitely picking up on the threat of Cage's tone. "Hey Finn." Clarke smiled tightly, brandishing her notepad.
The boy gave her an equally uncomfortable smile, nodding from his small spot in the corner, seemingly trapped behind Cage and the Emerson kid.
"What can I get for you?" Clarke asked, trying her best to sound enthusiastic. "What's good?" Cage smirked, leaning forward, eyes raking Clarke's body.
Clarke resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Cage, you'll probably end up getting the steak. What about you guys? Finn? Your friend? Maybe a minute or two?"
Finn nodded slowly, eyes pleading with Clarke to leave.
"Alright I'll get some waters." Clarke nodded, turning around to leave.
She stilled, an exasperated look on her face when she felt Cage pull her back by the back loop of her apron, dangerously close to sexual harassment territory.
"Clarke." His voice was caustic. "Why the rush, baby?"
"Okay, A, don't call me that." Clarke rolled her eyes. "And B, it's called a job. You know, those things you do when you aren't spoon fed millions on daddy's lap."
Emerson's eyes widened and Finn broke out into a fit of laughter, slapping his hand on the table surface.
Lexa, though still turned away and mostly forgotten, smirked in her seat, fingers relinquishing their tight grip on the booth's edge, the result of nervously listening into their conversation.
"Yeah?" Cage licked his lips, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "You miss having a daddy, don't you Clarke? Well, I have a job for you." He motioned to his pants with a smirk. "You can sit on my lap-"
Cage Wallace never saw the punch coming. He never expected the typically peaceable, bright Clarke Griffin to punch him straight between the eyes, sending him toppling back into Finn, clutching his nose with a cry of absolute fury.
Ever loyal, Emerson was up in seconds, towering over Clarke. Vengeance was the clear intent in his darkened eyes, and Clarke knew she was outmatched. He was a hell of a hulking figure, the size of Roan Queen, possibly.
He stepped forward, advancing on Clarke, despite Finn's cry of protest, begging him to stop.
Clarke's eyes widened as she felt herself backing up slowly, trying to maintain her calm, collected state.
Oh, god. She needed Wells, or Miller. They were both deaf over the sound of the grill, way in the back. She felt her heart repeatedly slam against her chest. This was very, very stupid.
She balled her fist at her side, ready for round two. She prayed that maybe, by some freak accident, she'd be lucky and he'd suddenly slip.
She then felt herself back up into something warm, and a hand took her from behind, uncurling the tense fist with a soft, warning touch.
Clarke whipped around to see Lexa, ever calm, relaxed, even, backing Clarke like a damn bodyguard.
Clarke wasn't sure why she felt instantly safer, knowing the athlete was there to provide support. Her pride had certainly taken a back seat to her need to stay in one piece.
"Carl." Lexa tutted, eyes raking him up and down once.
"Woods?" Emerson blinked, immediately stopping in place, hands falling to his side.
"Not a fight you want to start, right now." Lexa spoke lowly, intensely, her words carrying a threat that seemed to still Emerson's thought process entirely. "Take Cage, and leave."
Emerson looked distraught. "Woods, she-" "Go." Lexa spoke tersely, and that was it.
Emerson's forehead vein was visible as he contained his anger, turning to Finn, who'd been helping Cage stem the blood that had trickled out of his battered nose, into a napkin.
"Help me get him out of here." Finn muttered, pushing Cage off the booth slowly. "He needs a doctor."
Emerson shot a glare at Lexa as he passed with Cage, muttering a string of profanities as he did. Clarke, still in shock, merely blinked when Finn approached her.
Lexa tensed, but realized his tone and gaze was sincerely apologetic.
"Clarke, I'm so sorry." Finn shook his head. "Cage had a bit to drink, and-"
"It's fine." Clarke shook her head, offering him a tired smile. "Just...go, okay?"
"Sorry." Finn nodded as he turned around, shaking his head in embarrassment. Clarke couldn't help but feel as though his apology went beyond excusing the actions of his drunk friend, and wondered if the undertones were there or her own imagining.
Clarke wheeled around, eyes finding Lexa's in a post adrenaline induced haze. "Thanks for the backup." She murmured awkwardly.
"To be quite honest, I didn't think you'd need the help." Lexa teased, tossing her bill on the table. "You have quite the...fire within you, Clarke. Is your hand alright?"
Clarke felt her heart skip a beat when Lexa said her name, and it almost stopped altogether when Lexa's long fingers were grazing her hand, inspecting it for damage. "That was one hell of a punch."
Clarke shook her head when Lexa dropped her hand, smiling amusedly. "My dad taught me." She shrugged, but the words lingered in the air.
Lexa chose to ignore the melancholy tone behind them. She didn't want to put Clarke on the spot like that. She'd heard what Cage had said. Something was certainly amiss there.
"Does Cage often bother you?" Lexa asked, softer this time.
"Huh?" Clarke blinked. "Oh, yeah. He, uh...I have a feeling that's not going to end until I do something about it."
"Looks to me like you just did." Lexa smirked, folding her tightly muscled arms over her chest. Clarke's cheeks flushed. "He'll be back, I'm sure."
Lexa's jaw tightened slightly before she grabbed Aden's bag, offering Clarke an apologetic smile. "I should get these to Aden. He'll drive me insane if he doesn't eat soon."
Clarke laughed lightly at that. "I put a little gift in there for him. Tell him I say Hi...and I'm proud of him."
Lexa nodded, a small grin forming on her features. "I will, Clarke. Thank you."
————————————————————————
Aden had known the second Tris started interning with the editorial staff of the school paper that she'd ask for an interview with Anya.
His excitable friend was very, very obviously enamoured with his cousin, that had been clear from their first interaction together. Aden didn't quite understand how , seeing as the two of them had practically never spoken a word to one another, but Tris swooned whenever Anya was in sight. He supposed it was a quintessential part of the high school experience, helplessly pining after someone who was very clearly out of your reach. He'd often noticed a far-off look in Atom's eyes, but didn't know who it was the other boy was pining after just yet, and Nam longed for a healthy relationship with sleep, so the theory made sense.
Ellis, ever the outlier, claimed she had no time for such things, and rolled her eyes when Aden asked.
Back to the interview, though. That was how Aden found himself, sat next to a panicking Tris as the two of them waited for Anya to get out of practice and join them in the library.
"What if she hates me?" Tris fretted, pacing back and forth so frequently that Aden thought she was going to wear a hole into the carpet. He continued to flip through the pages of his copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone , not looking up to respond.
"She won't hate you," he placated, "An doesn't really hate anyone unless their last name is Queen ."
"How can you be so calm?" Tris hissed, hand brushing anxiously through her hair.
Aden peaked over the cover of his book to raise a single eyebrow, and she scowled at him.
"Right, you're her cousin." She continued pacing for a few moments, before she finally flung her hands in the air. "I can't do this, Aden, it's too stressful, you'll just have to―" Her words died in her throat when Anya slunk gracefully into the library, hair wet from her post-practice shower, towel draped over her shoulder.
"Sup nerd?" she greeted Aden, reaching over to ruffle his hair, and he scowled good-naturedly at her, before she turned to observe Tris, who had frozen in the middle of pacing. "You must be Tris? Anya, Aden's told me a lot about you." She extended her hand, and Aden thought for a moment that Tris was going to pass out, but the smaller of the two quickly composed herself and reached out tentatively, grasping Anya's hand in her own, and shaking firmly twice.
She was going to be fine.
————————————————————————
"No, Emori."
Clarke shook her head as the lacrosse player pouted, easily matching Clarke's somewhat brisk pace as the two of them made their way to Marcus Kane's classroom, weaving through the bustling halls of Arkadia.
"I'm not saying you have to marry her, or anything," Emori reasoned, "just give her a shot, go on a date or two with her."
"Shouldn't she be asking me this herself?" Clarke deadpanned, turning her head briefly to regard her friend with a raised brow. "Instead of sending you to do it?" Emori rolled her eyes.
"She doesn't know I'm talking to you on her behalf, of course, who do you think I am, Griffin, some kind of messenger? No, I just thought I'd put in a good word on behalf of my captain, and figured it'd come best from me seeing as the two of us are actually friends." If there was anyone in the entire school who could match Lexa Woods in terms of dramatic flare and student-crafted lore, it was Luna Rivers.
In fact, the girl had been perhaps the most talked about member of the student body before Lexa's arrival, what with her being the most ruthless lacrosse captain the school had seen in decades, as well as her propensity for getting in fistfights with the captain of the boy's lacrosse team, Derrick Brook. Clarke had always thought the two of them had a secret thing going on, but apparently not, because, according to Emori, Luna had a raging lady-boner for herself truly.
"Just give her a shot?" Emori pleaded, doing her best impression of puppy dog eyes.
"I won't reject her instantly, if that's what you're asking," Clarke responded dryly, "but I'm not promising anything will come out of it." Emori grinned widely, clapping Clarke rather firmly on the back.
"That's the spirit!" she cheered. "We're young, Griff, now's the time to go out and live life." The two of them walked into Kane's classroom side-by-side, and Clarke's eyes were drawn almost instinctively to Lexa, who was grading papers at a desk situated next to Kane's own, and a small smile crossed her face as Lexa's eyes snapped up to greet hers, pausing from her work momentarily to wave.
"Clarke!" Her attention was diverted to Raven, who was waving her over to her usual seat amongst her friends. "Who do you think would win in a fight: Hamilton or Burr?"
"Well," Clarke responded quickly, "I think history will answer that one for you, seeing as Hamilton died in a duel with Burr."
"See, Bell? I told you."
"But he chose not to fight. When it comes down to it, Hamilton was obviously the better shot of the two..." Bellamy trailed off as the very person Clarke had been discussing earlier walked up to the group of friends, situating herself in the desk in front of Clarke, facing towards her while she straddled the chair.
"Rivers?" Bellamy's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he observed the curly haired girl. "What brings you over here?"
"I had to come observe the true beauty closer, of course," she scoffed, as though it were the most obvious thing on the planet, and her eyes danced playfully as she regarded Clarke, who felt red creeping up her cheeks, "pictures don't do justice, Clarke, you're truly stunning."
"You aren't too shabby yourself," Clarke smirked, eyes trailing over Luna's body, especially the way her tight shirt clung to taut muscles and soft curves.
"You should see me in the gym," the girl continued casually, "really get a gauge for my physique. For artistic study, of course." She winked, and Clarke couldn't help but smile at her boldness.
"I might take you up on that offer, Rivers," she smirked, "but don't get too cocky, at least take me to dinner."
"Oh, trust me, I plan on it." The bell rang at that moment, and Luna raised Clarke's hand to her face, pressing a soft kiss to the skin. "I shall see you later, fair lady."
As Kane walked into the room, Clarke turned to find her friends in various states of shock. Raven, for once in her life, was silent, mouth agape, and Bellamy and Octavia held mirror expressions of bewilderment. Jasper's jaw was hanging open, and Monty reached over with a frown to close it. Emori, in all her smugness, was just smirking, and Murphy looked entirely unbothered by the entire situation.
"What was that," Octavia hissed under her breath as soon as she had her wits about her. "I think I just got asked on a date," Clarke responded matter-of-factly.
"Just like that?" Raven echoed. "No fuss?"
Clarke sighed deeply, mild irritation rising within her. "Just like that. It doesn't have to be a big deal, guys. It's just a date." Raven exchanged a helpless glance with Bellamy, and the dark haired boy continued.
"It's just," he started, "you don't exactly go on dates a lot, Princess. We're just a little concerned, is all."
"It'll be fine," Clarke deflected, looking down. "It's just a date." She wasn't sure if the repetition was to convince herself of her friends. "I don't think it'll amount to much." Because she's not— Clarke shut down that thought before it could even fully formulate, turning to Monty, who had a pensive look on his face.
"Mon? What are you thinking?"
"Woods looks like she's gonna kill someone."
True to his word, Lexa had looked up from the stack of papers she'd been grading, and had a stony look plastered on her face, grip on her pen tightened so much that Clarke could see her knuckles whiten, and she couldn't help but shiver at the intensity of the dark green gaze, which had trailed in the direction of Luna.
————————————————————————
Lexa had been having a wonderful day.
She woke up five minutes before her alarm, allowing blissful time to just stretch in her bed, and Gustus had made chocolate chip pancakes, a family favorite, with fresh strawberries and whipped cream. She'd arrived at school earlier, missing the traffic, and had been greeted by a kiss from her wonderful girlfriend, and had escaped english without too much bickering on Clarke's part, a newfound sense of peace among the two girls.
Kane had grinned widely at her entry to his class, beckoning her over, and handed her a stack of papers to grade. While it wasn't very interesting, the work was easy enough, and she genuinely liked the history teacher, who treated her as just another student and not some sort of prodigy. When Clarke had walked into the room and smiled at her, Lexa had been sure that the day was going to be a good one.
And then Luna came into the picture.
Lexa noticed her as soon as she entered the room, the other girl shooting her a smirk and a jaunty half-wave, stirring the beginnings of irritation in her stomach. Growing up, the Woods family and Rivers family were close associates, so Lexa had endured years of less-than-friendly competition with the lacrosse player. While they didn't necessarily hate one another, there was definitely no love in their relationship.
In fact, Lexa would have loved to just go about her life completely ignoring Luna altogether, but for some reason, she couldn't avoid her even if she tried.
So of course Lexa noticed when Luna made her way over to Clarke, straddling a chair as though her life depended on it, and blocking Clarke from Lexa's view altogether.
She didn't understand the anger that bubbled inside of her at the sight of Luna flirting, because that's what she was doing, with Clarke. Didn't understand the surge of... was that protectiveness? ... that overwhelmed her. Because she and Clarke weren't even friends, not really. Sure, there was the potential for a friendship, but they hadn't reached that point, not yet.
And for the life of her, Lexa didn't understand why she tightened the grip on her pen, as though it was Luna's neck and she wanted to snap it.
Maybe it's jealousy.
Lexa dismissed the thought quickly, almost scoffing aloud at it's foolishness. There was no way in hell that she was jealous of Luna Rivers, she didn't have any reason to be.
She was the star quarterback of the football team, had an amazing girlfriend who was also the head cheerleader, got astounding grades, and was adored by all the school, staff members included. She wanted for nothing.
But there was still something missing. And Lexa had no idea what it was.
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Lexa had never seen so much color in her life. Not at her parents' opulent, extravagant parties and galas, not even at any of the pride parades she'd seen.
This was otherworldly.
As Lexa held the door open to Niylah's classroom, she heard herself mumble, "whoa."
Costia's smile was bright when she nudged Lexa, whose eyes had settled on a mass of balloons of all shapes, sizes, and colors, floating to touch the fluorescents on the ceiling. "Clarke Griffin spares no expense for her birthdays." Costia informed her with a quiet whisper. "Well, her friends don't, anyway."
Lexa nodded, blinking as a balloon narrowly missed her when Clarke turned around to greet someone who wished her a happy birthday.
Niylah was sitting over by Raven and Octavia, all three of whom were wearing party hats, Niylah slightly disgruntled but amused nonetheless.
"Bye baby." Costia pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Lexa's mouth before skipping off to her seat, likely trying to catch up on the daily gossip with her friends.
Lexa mumbled a meek farewell, turning to sit in her seat beside Clarke, who'd been turned away, talking quietly to someone else.
Lexa felt an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. Was that...guilt? Because she was empty handed? She and Clarke were hardly friends, more like "frenemies" as she'd overheard Reyes say once. She didn't owe Clarke anything, right? And yet, when Clarke turned to her, blue eyes dimmed, blush on her cheeks from all the attention, she felt that she did.
"Hi." Clarke's voice was small, a little smile on her lips.
"Happy Birthday." Lexa greeted, slightly awkward. "I'm sorry...If I had known-"
Clarke waved a hand with an eye roll. "What, you would've gotten me something? Don't tell me you're going soft on me, Woods."
Lexa felt a smile finding its way to her lips. "Hardly." She scoffed, though she felt a familiar tug in her chest.
"Any celebrations?" Lexa asked after a moment of silence.
Clarke shrugged, jerking her head back at Raven and Octavia, who were whooping and chattering away about their grand plans. "These two always arrange something, whether I like it or not."
"You don't like the attention?" Lexa asked with a wry smile.
Clarke shrugged. "I don't really get off on that like you do." She smirked when Lexa's jaw dropped, satisfied that she'd made her mark.
Lexa feigned a look of hurt, shaking her head. "And to think, I was planning on sparing you today."
Clarke gave her a small smile. "Don't. I...don't like being reminded that today is any different, anyway."
Before Lexa could respond, the bell rang, and Niylah stood, smoothing out her shirt.
There was no group work that day, and Lexa left wondering what exactly Clarke had meant by that.
It seemed that, wherever Clarke went, cheers, laughter, and general obnoxious behavior followed.
Lexa had arrived a few minutes late to Marcus Kane's history class, hoping to slide through the door unnoticed. Instead, she found that she was sliding into what was practically a party, with Kane nowhere to be found.
Lexa was starting to learn that Kane made a habit of showing up approximately ten minutes late to his fourth class period.
Of course, the present Delinquents had taken advantage, and the classroom had been turned into a mini disco of sorts, with music blaring from an apparent speaker in Octavia's backpack, her twin standing on the desk and handing out cupcakes to eager students in Clarke's honor. Raven had been whispering something to Luna, who was eyeing Clarke with her sculpted brow raised, running a hand through her curls.
At that, Lexa's eyes narrowed.
Monty, whom Lexa had learned to be quite bright, just from grading his tests, was trying to console the birthday girl in question, who'd been silent in the corner.
When Lexa stepped in, heads turned, and some people set their cupcakes down with slight disappointment, and fear. It was a well known fact that Lexa Woods was Marcus Kane's deputy, his second in command, his prized TA. She was supposed to enforce his word, was she not?
But Lexa Woods was also a notorious rebel.
Lexa pushed her way past Bellamy, politely declining his offered cupcake as she strode over to her desk, dropping her expensive italian book bag down with a sigh, leaning back into her seat to take in her surroundings.
Her eyes roamed the expanse of Clarke's dress clad figure as she stood to throw out a paper plate. Her discomfort seemed to be evident only to Lexa, as everyone seamlessly carried on with their party as if Clarke's shoulders weren't sagging slightly and as if she weren't biting her lip anxiously.
Lexa's emerald gaze narrowed when Luna stood to wrap her arms around Clarke, pulling the blonde into her lap.
Well, that was brazen, for such a new couple, wasn't it?
Lexa couldn't hear the words over the ambient pounding of the beat, but she could certainly read lips.
She felt her own nails digging into her thighs when she witnessed Luna coo, in her undoubtedly sultry and hoarse tone, "Hey babygirl."
Babygirl? Lexa felt an unsavory feeling unfurl in her stomach, the one she'd previously attributed to anger, possibly indigestion. It was becoming clear, now, that Luna was not helping the case.
Clarke smiled that soft, warm smile, and Lexa felt a little bit of that anger dissipate. After all, she had the right to protect her english partner, right? Niylah would have wanted that.
"What's the matter?" Luna's lips moved, almost grazing Clarke's ear.
Lexa listened intently for Clarke's response, only to find Raven Reyes blocking her field of vision.
"Hey Commander." Raven chirped, leaning over in front of Lexa, blocking her view entirely.
"Hello Raven." Lexa's response was a sigh. At least she could hear her at this close of a proximity. "Enjoying Clarke's party?"
"This?" Raven scoffed, eyes darting around. "This is nothing. Clarke usually ends up getting a rager at Octavia's before she...." Raven trailed off with a glance at Lexa's cocked brow.
"Maybe I've said too much."
Lexa's lips quirked into a small smile. At least Clarke had a caring group of friends, a good backbone of support. "Can I help you with something? That isn't cheating on Kane's tests, because I can't do that."
Raven smirked. "No, actually." She began cockily, and Lexa had to wonder where the latina was headed with her speech. "I was going to ask if you had a problem with L-"
Raven never finished. Over the pounding of the music, someone had shouted, "Clarke!"
And then everything, in typical Arkadia High fashion, went to hell.
The music, still blaring, hadn't stopped. While most of the delinquents went about business as usual, Raven turned around, giving Lexa a clear view of what was going on.
Clarke was grasping at the seemingly large watch that sat on her wrists, tears sliding down her flushed cheeks. Luna, ever shocked and surprised, was still holding Clarke, but looking up in clear need of assistance.
Lexa recognized the symptoms immediately. Clarke was having another...attack, another episode of some sort. From the looks of it, she was hardly paying attention to Luna's hands securing her by the waist.
Lexa shot up, remembering the moment in the library. It wasn't a choice. Pure instinct kicked in, and Clarke had buried her nose into Lexa's neck, while Lexa had calmed her down.
This time, things went rather differently.
It was Bellamy who nearly leapt the desk in front of him, arms going out to envelop Clarke as she limply transferred herself from Luna to Bellamy, tears staining his shirt as he held her closely, rocking her back and forth.
The other students didn't seem to look, anymore. Octavia turned the music down only slightly, and Lexa realized she was sparing her friend the embarrassment of a silent room while she sobbed. Luna stroked Clarke's back as well, but the poor girl looked overwhelmed.
Lexa watched all this with rage tinting her vision, her fists balled at her side. Clarke needed privacy, and air. She needed to be taken outside, to have peace and quiet, tranquility and serenity. She needed Lexa.
Except, she didn't.
Lexa gritted her teeth in anger at her own confusion. What was going on? Why did she feel so personally affected? Why hadn't Clarke turned to her? It had worked so well in the library. Before Lexa could do anything else, she heard Jasper, who'd been pressed up against the window, acting as a sentry, whisper-yell: "Kane's coming!"
Like clockwork, the music was off, and the students were seated, Bellamy gently tugging Clarke outside, Kane greeting them with a knowing nod before entering the room itself.
Just like that, Clarke was swept away. She was still crying when she'd left. And now she was gone.
Kane looked happily dazed, a stark contrast to the melancholy air of the classroom. "Hello students. Ms. Woods." He nodded to Lexa with a smile. "Gorgeous day, isn't it?"
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The third time Lexa saw Clarke that day, the atmosphere had changed considerably. There was no posse of delinquents, no raging and shouting, no music pouring from hidden speakers. There were no cupcakes and treats and songs in honor of a very uncomfortable looking Clarke Griffin.
Instead, there was the calming September breeze on the turf field that radiated heat. There were the sounds and grunts of Lexa's varsity team, finishing the day's practice with quiet satisfaction.
There was blue. So much blue. Cerulean and deep, and revealing Clarke's thoughts to Lexa from the blink of her eyes alone. Clarke had approached Lexa, who'd been watching her team, leaning against one of the towering goal posts, emerald gaze scrupulously scanning the field before meeting Clarke with uncertainty.
"Hi, Lexa." Clarke greeted, as if nothing had happened. As if Lexa hadn't seen her practically tugged out of class by Bellamy Blake, in her weirdly induced haze.
"Griffin." Lexa nodded, feeling a slight heat rush through her when Clarke took in the sight of her in uniform, eyes resting momentarily on Lexa's broad, padded shoulders.
She didn't bother asking how Clarke's birthday was. She had a gut feeling that, if it was anything like what had happened in class, she already knew.
"Sorry I'm a bit early I just...I don't know, I didn't know where to wait." Clarke confessed, playing idly with the strap of her backpack. Lexa noticed she did that when she was nervous.
Lexa's gaze softened at that. "Wait?" She repeated unsurely.
"Yeah, for you." Clarke cocked a brow. "It's...thursday. We work in the library on thursdays."
Lexa blinked, eyes alight with curiosity.
This girl was nothing, if not dedicated.
"Clarke, it's your birthday." Lexa pointed out, feeling Clarke's gaze shift for a split second to her tights before finding their way back up to her.
"So?" Clarke shrugged. "Work still needs to be done. I have a paragraph or two to write for the friday deadline."
Lexa looked incredulous. "I mean, I would just write that for you." Clarke froze in place, clearly taken by surprise. "You what?"
Lexa felt odd, confessing that for some reason. It wasn't weird, was it? "I just mean...You should go. It looked like Raven was planning a bit of an...event for you."
Clarke smiled sadly, shaking her head, and something in Lexa's chest ached. She took that as a cue to grab her bag, figuring she'd change later, after she'd gotten started with Clarke. She deserved that much for waiting so long.
She signaled something to Anya, who nodded from across the field, and she turned to Clarke, freeing her tied hair with a headshake, running a hand through it. "Ready?"
"Uh..." Clarke nodded slowly, blinking once or twice. "Um, yeah."
Lexa led the way, Clarke finding her place beside her as they took slow strides, making their way off the side of the field with more than several nods in Lexa's direction.
"I know this must be weird." Clarke sighed, her fiery side disappearing.
"Hmm?" Lexa hummed, her heart beating oddly fast. She knew what was coming too.
"You must think I'm crazy, or...a freak." Clarke shook her head. "I know what you saw today in Kane's class, but-"
Lexa wheeled around, and Clarke bumped straight into her, glancing up with narrowed blue eyes. "I didn't ever say that." Lexa's voice was unlike her usual commanding tone, every ounce of venom and bite had dissipated.
"You thought it." Clarke fired back. "Everyone does. I would. I just..." Clarke trailed off. "Something happened to me. I-"
"Clarke." Lexa spoke gently, her eyes searching Clarke's, forcing the contact. "You don't have to talk about it. I said that before. I just wanted you to know that..." Lexa's voice became smaller, softer by the seconds. "I just want you to know that I'm here, if you want me...need me. In those times, I....I get it." Now Lexa seemed to be stumbling and tripping over her own soft sentiment.
Clarke blinked, eyes wide. "I...Thank you..." She croaked, utterly disoriented by what she'd just heard.
Lexa turned on her heel, smirking. "Who knows? Maybe my fanclub will be at the library." Clarke felt a smile tugging at her previous frown. "You are so full of shit, Alexandria Woods."