Clexa One Shots

Greencard (AU)

"Well, aren't you more dour than usual?" the artist asked as she refused to look up at the sulking editor.
"You know I prefer surly."
"You are both dour and surly, and you're raining on my nice lunch."
"I'm sorry."
Smiling to herself, Clarke buried her nose in her sketch pad while her friend surely glowered from her spot on the fountain ledge. The city was alive, with everyone basking in the sun after the long, cold winter. It seemed to burst at the seams with life. Flowers and trees stretched up high and flashed in blooms wide across, filling in every space, while every metre of grass was filled with sunbathers and ball-throwers, blankets for picnics and books held up over heads like flocks of one legged flamingos.
Lunch became a habit. After bonding over an insanely boring meeting one day, followed by working together on a project that became marginally successful, the dynamic duo became a staple of inseparability. Clarke would never admit it was the accent that hooked her and it was the way Lexa cared, or the way she pushed up her glasses on her nose when they slumped as she read, in the most obscure and poorly-crafted ways that kept her coming back. Lexa would never admit that it was those eyes and that smile, and the way the artist would sometimes get ink or charcoal on her cheek when she was working, or how she furrowed and tilted her head as she sized-up a work.
Neither admitted anything of the such because both worked too well together to do something like that. Lexa found projects, pitched stories, worked with authors, and Clarke did the book art. It was an unstoppable one-two punch, and they both were oddly content with the friendship that developed over the past year.
"You should just accept my offer," Clarke decided, as Lexa stole another fry from her bag.
"Your proposal, you mean?"
"Do I have to get down on one knee?"
"I can't ask you to do that. It's... I don't know. And it's supposed to mean something." Lexa dismissed Clarke's words and the mere thought of it all with an absent wave of her hand as she settled back and looked over the world in the park.
"In my experience a piece of paper doesn't keep anyone together." Clarke slapped her hands as she went for another. "So it'd be like getting a legal best friends forever bracelet."
"We'd be ruining the sanctity of it. Marriage is supposed to be forever. I couldn't do that."
"That's why annulments exist."
"I don't think a greencard marriage is the reason annulments were invented," Lexa sighed and rolled her eyes.
"At least consider it, Lexa."
"It's five years of your life. At least."
"I wasn't planning on doing much anyway. And I never considered myself the marrying kind, so it's not like it interrupts any ambitions."
"I know you don't understand it, but I'm the marrying type. Marriage isn't a joke to me. It's not something you just... do, so you can stay in a country. It's supposed to be love, and I can't piss all over it."
"I offered because I don't want to lose you, Lex," Clarke softened as the editor folded into herself and looked at the people walking by instead of back at her. "I didn't mean to mock what you believe. I know it means something to you."
The argument was nothing new. It raged for the past two weeks, cropping up when Lexa's surliness grew to be too much for Clarke to handle and the inevitable 'marry me already' popped out. She knew it was wearing her down because Lexa grew more and more eager to defend it, stoutly refusing and trying to find some resolve to the matter.
"Don't be mad at me," Clarke tried.
"I mean. I have to figure it out somehow. Who else would put up with you talking during movies," Lexa tilted her head towards the blonde and grinned, lopsided and hers. Clarke recognized it as her smile, the smile that only she could earn from this girl. It melted her too easily.
"Exactly. It's purely selfish that I even offer."
"I knew it."
"Why don't you order your own?" Clarke watched Lexa take another fry. "I asked you if you wanted some, and you said no."
"Because I like to pretend to eat healthy to give myself the upper hand, seem better than you."
"But you eat all mine!"
"Get used to it, Griffin."
"You know I'm going to get you to marry me. It's just a matter of time."
"We'll see about that."
INTERVIEWER: And how long have you known Ms. Woods?
CLARKE: I've known her for nearly two years. We've dated for about eighteen months.
INTERVIEWER: When did you decide to propose?
CLARKE: The moment I met her. I mean... I'm not sure. I just. It was. Probably. I just knew I didn't want to lose her.
INTERVIEWER: There's no need to be nervous, Ms. Griffin.
CLARKE: I'm sorry. I just. It's all very official. Most people don't get interrogated after getting married.
INTERVIEWER: Most people don't apply for a greencard a few months after said marriage. There's nothing to worry about. You both seem very happy and in love. I'm very good at detecting these things. Almost a sixth sense.
CLARKE: Is that right? How do you tell?
INTERVIEWER: Looks, stories, the words that you choose, the movements of your hands.
CLARKE: Are you ever wrong?
INTERVIEWER: Everyone I've ever worked with is still married. Now where were we?
CLARKE: I'm not sure. Proposing.
INTERVIEWER: Why don't you just tell me about Lexa?
CLARKE: She's my best friend.
"Mãe!" Lexa begged through the computer. Clarke listened as Lexa spoke in her mother's language, not catching a single word on either side, but definitely understanding the tone. "Eu a amo!" Clarke snuck a peak from the kitchen and saw Lexa's hands moving as she spoke. "Não, não, não," Lexa shook her head and rooted her hand in her hair. "Mas é só pelo dinheiro!"
When Clarke told her mother she was getting married, she got the standard disappointed diatribe she'd grown accustomed to with her family. There wasn't yelling, there wasn't much else other than that hum her mother made when she decided she shouldn't have expected much else from her daughter. The yelling on Lexa's computer felt like family, felt like normal, made Clarke feel oddly lonely.
"So my mom wishes us well," Lexa muttered, walking into the kitchen as Clarke dried, oddly in a daze, deep and contemplative as could be. The editor opened the fridge and pulled out a drink.
"It'll be okay, Lex," Clarke promised. "She'll calm down."
"She was calm," Lexa sighed, leaning over the counter. "I just disappointed her and broke her heart."
"I know that's a new sensation for you, but coming from a professional in that arena, I can tell you honestly that she loves you, immensely."
"Not today she doesn't."
Clarke wished there was something to say, but the sigh was a mile wide and an ocean deep. The dishes sat in the sink and Clarke pulled her hands out, soapy and wet as they were. She wrapped them around Lexa's stomach and pressed her cheek against her spine.
"It'll be okay. I don't know how, and I don't know when, but I believe with every ounce of my being that it will be okay."
For the longest, Lexa didn't move. She stood in the kitchen with soppy wet hands around her and the weight of her new wife on her back. She closed her eyes and despite herself, trusted what she said.
INTERVIEWER: When did you know that you wanted to spend your life with Clarke?
LEXA: The moment I met her.
INTERVIEWER: How did you know? Or how are you sure?
LEXA: I'm cold. I am. I've been told I'm cold, and I don't get along well with other people often. But Clarke... when I'm around her... I'm just... When she's around, I'm alive, and I'm happy, which might not seem like something, but for me, it's everything. I never considered myself happy or unhappy. Now I do. Happiness is a word I would use in my life.
INTERVIEWER: The wedding was very sudden. What made you pull the trigger?
LEXA: My family is all back home, and Clarke isn't religious. We didn't see the point in a bunch of fuss. So we just went to the JP.
INTERVIEWER: But you are religious, are you not?
LEXA: I was raised that way, yes. I don't go to church often enough, if you ask my mother, but still.
INTERVIEWER: Marriage isn't just a legal means to an end then?
LEXA: It's a sacred thing.
INTERVIEWER: Tell me more about your family.
"Lexa," Clarke whispered, creeping through the dark. The lump on the bed didn't move.
The intruder bumped her toe on a half unpacked box. Three months Lexa lived in Octavia's old room in Clarke's two bedroom, and still she refused to unpack, almost like it was a protest against herself.
"Hey," she tried again, getting closer to the bed. "Lex."
"Hmmm. What? What's- Clarke?" Lexa's head lifted slightly. "What's wrong?"
"I can't sleep."
"So?"
"I can't... sleep."
"What happened?"
"Do you remember when I used to call you in the middle of the night? You'd mumble and just listen, and I haven't had that because we're married and share an apartment-"
"Shhh," Lexa mumbled, pulling up the blankets again.
"Lexa..."
"Just. Get in. Shhh," she lifted the blanket.
Clarke debated for half a second before she slipped in beside her wife. Stiff as a board, she laid there beside Lexa, her body growing accustomed to the different mattress and smell of the blankets. Slowly, the half-asleep bedmate gravitated towards Clarke, settling decidedly on her shoulder. Clarke relaxed at the contact.
"How can you sleep? It's a huge meeting tomorrow."
"It's fine," Lexa murmured. Her chest was pressed against Clarke's arm, her own arms gripping there tightly.
"It's not your art that's going to be judged."
"It's fine, Clarke."
"Do you think this whole married thing is going well?"
"Yes."
"Me too."
"Shhh," Lexa hummed, burrowing into Clarke's side. 
"I can't sleep."
"You're the best artist I've ever seen. That's why," Lexa yawned, hugging Clarke's arm. "That's why I don't worry."
"Go to sleep," Clarke smiled in the dark. It didn't take long for her own eyes to grow heavy.
INTERVIEWER: Six months in and what do you think about your marriage?
CLARKE: So far so good.
INTERVIEWER: Care to elaborate? Any problems?
CLARKE: Not really. Well, sometimes she cleans up after me too quickly. Like, I don't get a chance to clean up, and she doesn't like mess. And she works late a lot more lately. But we still have these moments where nothing else in the world matters and it's just us.
INTERVIEWER: What does marriage mean to you?
CLARKE: I don't know if someone can answer that.
INTERVIEWER: What does your marriage mean to you?
CLARKE: Safety. Comfort. It might sound weird, but the more I'm in it, the more I feel more me.
INTERVIEWER: You're happy?
CLARKE: I am.
"Come on, it's just dinner," Clarke sighed, wrapping herself around Lexa's arm as she urged her down the street. "You're working too hard. I never see you anymore."
"Work is just busy. You know that," Lexa sighed, her breath cold and huffing in the spring evening that kept its bit of chill.
"I know that you're working too hard," The artist decided. "And I have things... I mean. I want to talk to you. We need to catch up."
"I'm sorry. Just. My mom and work and this."
"I know."
"Lexa?" A voice stopped them in the middle of the sidewalk. "I thought that was you. How are you?"
"Hey, Indra, it's so good to see you!" Lexa found herself hugged by one of her clients, actually grateful to have some distraction. It was easier, to not have to talk to Clarke. Lexa knew what this dinner was about. Knew that there was someone else and Clarke was going to tell her. That was why work got so busy. After waking up curled under Clarke's chin, after an almost kiss at a party, after blushing and excusing herself from movie nights on the couch that got cuddly, Lexa was intimately aware with the fact that she was terribly in love with her wife.
"It's been too long," the author decided, smiling wide. "How are you?"
"I'd be better if you'd get me a draft at any point this year."
"That was almost subtle."
"I'm dying to know what you've got. The synopsis you gave was amazing. I need more. Purely selfish."
"Soon, soon." It happened and Lexa knew it would, that her eyes drifted to the girl beside her. "Hi. I'm Indra. Obviously my editor has terrible manners."
"Sorry," Lexa cleared her throat. "Indra this is... my. This is. This. Clarke, this is Indra. I worked with her a few years ago on her first novel."
"It's so nice to meet you. I'm Clarke, Lexa's wife."
For a moment, the blood ran from Lexa's cheeks before storming back through them. The buildings were glowing bright and pink in the sunset but they were nothing compared to the rosy hue that burned through the editor's skin.
"It's so nice to meet you. I think I vaguely heard about it. I guess I'll have to send a gift since I wasn't invited to the wedding."
"There wasn't... it's a long... story," Lexa tugged on her collar.
"And to think you let this articulate thing near your writing," Clarke smiled, shaking her head and sharing a look with the woman on the sidewalk.
"This is a good one, Lexa," the author decided. "I won't keep you. It was nice to meet you, Clarke."
"I'll call you this week," Lexa promised. "We'll have lunch."
"I look forward to it."
INTERVIEWER: How have things been going, Lexa?
LEXA: Can't really complain. Work is going well. My mom is coming to visit in a few weeks. My wife quit her job and has been working on her own children's book. It's been a good year for us.
INTERVIEWER: They say the first year is the adjustment period. What have you had to adjust to since you married?
LEAX: Well. She's messy. So there is always clothes on the floor. I was used to having quiet time, but now I don't get as much. Making decisions with another person. That was weird.
INTERVIEWER: Tell me one thing you've learned after one year that you might not have known before.
LEXA: I don't think I knew that I was as in love with her as I am. Like. I didn't realize that I was in love with her. It kind of surprises me, still.
INTERVIEWER: What about Clarke? Learned anything new about her?
LEXA: I always knew she was good. Like. She's good. Probably the best person alive. She's kind and considerate and lovely and funny and smart and talented and helpful and selfless and brave. I just... never realized how wonderful she was.
INTERVIEWER: Any fights?
LEXA: A few. Dishes or dinner or bills, but nothing that has lasted more than an hour.
"I'm just going to stay at Raven's," Clarke said, shoving a few things in a bag.
"I would like to at least introduce you to my mom," Lexa tried, not getting up from the edge of the bed.
"She knows it's just for the card. We don't have to pretend for her."
"Yeah," Lexa nodded sadly. "How's Raven?"
"She's good. You'd like her. She reminds me of you a little," Clarke smiled.
"Can't wait to meet her."
It was the hardest sentence she ever said. The words felt like razorblades in her mouth on the way out, slicing through her throat, shredding her tongue, but she did, and she smiled because Clarke smiled and that's what she could do.
"Maybe I'll make it to dinner with your mom?" Clarke offered.
"Definitely."
INTERVIEWER: So, Clarke, how are things?
CLARKE: Really good. I've been so busy, but things are great.
INTERVIEWER: Why don't you tell me a little about how things have been going with you and Lexa?
CLARKE: Good. Great. I mean. I don't know. I... She's stressed with work.
INTERVIEWER: Have you talked with her?
CLARKE: Do you remember what you said? In the first session? That you could tell we were in love? How could you tell, with her? What gave it away?
INTERVIEWER: This is inappropriate, Mrs. Griffin.
CLARKE: I just need to know. Please.
INTERVIEWER: The way she looks at her hands and smiles when she talks about you. She was complaining about how you talk through movies, but she looked like she couldn't imagine ever sitting through a quiet movie ever again. I have a sense about these things.
CLARKE: I've been in love with her from the day we met. She smiled, and after the meeting, she blushed so hard, her ears turned red. Loving someone is hard.
INTERVIEWER: What seems to be hard?
CLARKE: Telling them. What if she doesn't love me? What if you can't tell anything? What if this is just a greencard marriage and you can't tell anything at all?
INTERVIEWER: Is it?
CLARKE: No.
The air in the apartment was thick with summer. The open windows and fans did little to stop the heat that crept up through the very city itself. Covered in that thin sheen of sweat that never disappeared in the summer evening, Lexa sat on the fire escape with her latest manuscript and red pen, cold bottle of beer rubbing against her thigh to attempt to fight the heat that sizzled the buildings and made glasses sweat.
"Lexa!" Clarke's yell came as soon as she came through the door. "Where are you? I know you're here!"
"The neighbours will talk, honey," Lexa smirked as she looked in from the window.
Clrke wasn't supposed to be here. Lexa was supposed to have a night to herself and she needed it desperately after the decision she made.
"Get in here, right now!" Clarke bellowed, standing severe and violent in the middle of the living room, papers crumpled in her hand and pointing.
"Not if you're going to yell."
"Damn straight I'm going to yell, you stubborn ass!"
"Well, I'm not coming in then."
"A divorce?" Clarke held up the stack of papers. "You ask for a divorce by currier? How could you–? Why would you do that?"
"Things seemed to be getting serious with Raven. I didn't want to stand in your way," Lexa shrugged, sliding back into the apartment. She desperately wanted to be back in the quiet with her drink and her book and her pen, but it seemed impossibly far away as soon as her feet hit the ground in the apartment.
"You're such an idiot!"
"Well, there's that."
"A divorce," Clarke scoffed and threw the papers on the couch.
Lexa could see the tension in her shoulders, could see the way she ran her hand over her mouth and refused to look at her. Clarke was mad, was more mad than she'd ever seen.
"I'm trying to do what's best, Clarke."
"I miss you, you know that?" Clarke paced through the house as Lexa remained rooted. "You're my best friend and you're just... gone. And now you're trying to get out of this so you can leave? Go back to Australia? What about me?"
"I don't want to be your best friend. I want more."
"Lexa."
"You think I want this?" Lexa tossed her stack on the table and pointed at the pile of divorce papers. "I'm so in fucking love with you I can't be in the same room as you anymore. I can't look at you. I can't want you anymore and I'm trying to save us."
"What are you-?"
"I stay at work late, I keep my distance. I'm trying. Go be happy. Go find someone who makes you happy and forget this ever happened."
Surprised and still fuming Clarke stopped in the middle of the living room so both were staring angrily at each other, like predators circling and waiting to pounce. Muscles were taut, jaws flexed, nostrils flared, eyes dilated, the importance of the moment not lost on either. Nothing would be the same.Lexa knew it, but she was sick of the burden, flailing under the weight of it in her bones.
"I'm trying to let you go because I would gladly feel like this," Lexa whispered, clutching at her chest, shoulders taut. "Just to see you happy."
Clarke cleared the few feet between them in no time at all, she took a deep breath and clutched Lexa's neck and shirt before kissing her.
It wasn't as it should have been, gentle and sorry and finally. It was rough and angry and vengeful and afraid, but it was all so important still.
Lexa stood still, petrified once Clarke's lips were on her, surprised and unable to breathe. It took a moment before she could think, before she melted into those hands that clutched and tugged on her shirt and neck. It was tentative, before she leaned forward, dipping down more to have more access. But Clarke hummed and she was off to the race.
It wasn't until Clarke felt the wall against her back that she pulled away if only for a moment. Lexa pulled her shirt over her head. Clarke unbuttoned her wife's pants before stealing her lips once more.
INTERVIEWER: It has been a little while since I've been able to see you.
LEXA: I haven't really missed you.
CLARKE: I don't know. I kind of like these sessions. Do we still get them once we've been cleared?
INTERVIEWER: I wanted to get you both in here today at the same time to let you know that the paperwork has cleared.
LEXA: Finally.
INTERVIEWER: I just have some closing questions.
LEXA: Of course you do.
INTERVIEWER: Where do you see your marriage going? What do you expect from it in the impending years?
CLARKE: I'm kind of enjoying out sex life.
LEXA: Yes. That.
CLARKE: It's been a long process. I'm kind of excited to see who we are, now. See what we can be.
LEXA: I have the utmost faith in our abilities to conquor whatever comes our way. She makes me think that.
CLAKRE: I asked you what made you certain that we were in love with each other, do you remember?
INTERVIEWER: Of course.
LEXA: You knew before we did.
CLARKE: I always knew.
LEXA: Not this again.
CLARKE: I did.