This is going to be interesting, Dr. Grant thinks as she studies the couple in front of her. They are visibly - and equally - nervous. Their hands are clasped together in their laps, and their legs are crossed. The brunette woman appears more at ease, but Dr. Grant has seen and treated enough patients to know when to look for other signs. The clench of her jaw and the shifting of her gaze tell her more than her seemingly relaxed pose.
She watches the blonde woman steal glances at the brunette, every so often, and it doesn't take a genius - or someone who graduated on top of her class - to figure out she's the guilty one. Or feels like she's the guilty one. Dr. Grant has seen her fair share of gaslit patients. But the brunette woman doesn't seem like an abuser, and yes, looks may be deceiving, but Dr. Grant's intuition has never failed her.
She gives them another quick onceover. The blonde is chewing on her lower lip, and the looks she's throwing the brunette are increasingly lingering. Longing. The brunette is mostly staring ahead or at Dr. Grant's forehead. Occasionally, however, her eyes meet her partner's, and there's the smallest smile on her lips that the blonde anxiously returns.
Dr. Grant wonders. It might be a cheating case; but her gut tells her there's something more to it. Something deeper.
"So," she clasps her hands together, giving the pair a warm smile. They tentatively return it. "Miss Woods and Miss... Griffin, is it?" She doesn't miss the way the blonde woman flinches at her name.
"Just Clarke is fine," she rushes to correct her. Dr. Grant nods.
"Of course." She expectantly looks at Miss Woods next.
"Lexa. It's, uh, Lexa."
"Okay, good," Dr. Grant nods again, allowing her smile to grow. "Nice to meet you both, Clarke and Lexa. My name is Katherine. I'm very glad we decided on first name basis right away. It helps with establishing trust between us."
The way their eyes widen before they glance at each other and look away at the word trust tells her everything she needs to know. It doesn't particularly matter under what circumstances their trust was broken. All she cares about is that it is, and they are here to repair it. She only hopes it's not too late.
"Why don't we start with you telling me a little about yourselves?"
Lexa sits up a little straighter on the couch. "Would you like to go first?" She quietly asks Clarke, who looks mildly nauseous at the thought.
"Oh, no, it's okay, you can go first."
"Are you sure? I mean, I don't mind--"
"Yes, I'm--"
Dr. Grant hides a grin when they stop, abruptly, and try to conceal their own amused smiles. Clarke's eyes catch Lexa's, and smiles fade, little by little, as they hold each other's gazes; and all Katherine can think is poor kids. Before her, she sees hurt, desperation, guilt, and underneath it all, love being exchanged with a mere glance, and -- she really, really hopes it's not too late.
"Why don't we go clockwise, if that helps?" She watches both women blink and slowly look away to concentrate on her. For a second, she feels almost guilty for intruding on what looked like a private moment. She has a feeling they have those often. "Lexa, let's start with you."
"I'm not very good at talking about myself," Lexa says quietly. And -- Dr. Grant noted that before, but it becomes more and more prominent with each second. Miss Woods is a strikingly beautiful woman, from the sharp cut of her jaw to the brilliant green of her eyes. But then again, so is Clarke. They make quite an eye-catching couple.
"Me neither," Clarke agrees.
Katherine goes to say something, but Lexa quickly intervenes, her gaze cool and collected. "If you don't mind, Dr. Grant, I'd rather we skipped ice breaking exercises."
She really is beautiful, Dr. Grant thinks as she studies her stoic face. And cold. Or, rather, she wants to seem cold, and Dr. Grant is sure she succeeds. Mostly. "Of course. But this isn't just so we can break the ice. I want to build a connection between everyone here."
"It'll form in due time," Lexa calmly states, and her tone doesn't leave much room for objection.
Katherine looks at Clarke. Clarke looks away.
"Okay," she says slowly. "Well, if you want to get to the root of the problem right away, I need to know what the problem is."
Clarke's quiet, humorless chuckling is startling. "Well," she says. "That, we can tell you about."
//
"The worst part is - she hasn't even moved a muscle."
"Lexa?"
"No," Clarke closes her eyes, briefly. "No, Lexa -- not Lexa. I'm talking about Dr. Grant. She looked like she's heard it a million times before. She just listened, and nodded, and took notes."
"Well, to be fair," Raven shrugs, popping a chip in her mouth, "that's kind of her job. Not to be fazed by anything." She sips from her beer next. "Have I told you how impressed I am with the two of you, by the way?"
Clarke sighs. "Yeah. Thanks." She said that as soon as she heard they were attending couple's therapy. Which was half an hour ago. Now, they are sitting on Raven's couch and drinking Raven's favorite beer - according to Raven, "all was forgiven" as soon as she saw what Clarke had in her grocery bags. "I just hope it helps."
Raven gives her a warm smile. "The fact that she's even willing to do this says it's not too late," she points out, and Clarke's not going to lie - it does get a little easier to breathe. "So chin up, babe. You're well on your way to being married with kids."
And -- Clarke knows Raven's being mildly sarcastic, but she'd be lying if she said the thought doesn't give her goosebumps. She shakes her head. "Not so fast," she says. Mostly to herself. "We have a lot of things to work on before we can even consider it a relationship. Marriage is definitely not on the table right now."
Lexa is already slightly freaked out about therapy. It's easy to see how uncomfortable it makes her. For good reason, too. Today, the entire session was dedicated to rehashing Clarke's betrayal, and - if talking about it hurt Clarke this much, how awful it must've been for her?
She looked drained when they left Dr. Grant's office. Clarke's sure she hasn't fared much better. And, after a hurried see you soon, she quickly walked away.
There's a part of her that wouldn't be surprised if that was the last time she saw Lexa.
"I don't know," Clarke sighs, taking another swig from her bottle. "Maybe it wasn't such a good idea."
Raven almost chokes on her beer. "Are you kidding me? That was a great idea! Might be the only good idea you've had in a long while."
"Thanks," Clarke deadpans. "I needed that today."
"Aw," Raven coos apologetically, scooting closer to her and putting her head on her shoulder. Clarke begrudgingly pets her. "I'm sorry. You did good. Healing's a bitch, you know? It'll get worse before it gets better. But it will get better. You just gotta work for it."
"Yeah. Work my damn ass off."
"Your damn fine ass." Raven snorts when Clarke tries to pinch her cheek.
"Don't you forget it."
"Yeah, yeah, you're the superior ass around here." At Clarke's forlorn look, Raven giggles. "Come on, grumpy pants, this," she throws an empty pack of chips on the table, "isn't doing it for me. I'm craving Chinese. You're driving."
Clarke groans. "Why can't you drive?"
"Cause you're in the dog house!" Comes a cheeky yell from Raven's bedroom where her friend is changing.
She scoffs. "When am I not?"
//
Dr. Grant suggested they sign up for twelve sessions and take it slow. Naively enough, Clarke thought she'd leave it at that, for them to guess the rest. But the doctor helpfully supplied them with details.
"That means no sex," she said, surprisingly direct. "At least for now. You're rebuilding your entire relationship. From what I gathered, sex was a major part of your previous one; and that relationship was based on lies." Clarke swallowed at that, and forced herself to look at Lexa who practically turned to stone. "That's also one of the many reasons you should wait before being intimate with each other. But there's more to taking it slow. I suggest you limit the amount of time you spend with each other - for now," she added, clearly noticing the alarmed look on Clarke's face. "I suggest having one date per week in addition to your sessions with me. Of course, it is entirely up to you. Everything is just a recommendation. But all of us need to be dedicated to make this work."
They both nodded at that. Clarke remembered that from the part where they set expectations. It mostly consisted of Dr. Grant reminding them that their relationship is their responsibility.
And then, they left her office, and Lexa fled. It's been several days, and there's been no word from her.
Clarke's kind of growing accustomed to her random disappearances. That doesn't mean it's any easier surviving through them.
She's contemplating texting her when there's an incoming call. Lexa. She sighs with relief and quickly picks up.
"Hey," Lexa says, and she sounds tired, but not entirely unwelcoming.
"Hey," Clarke breathes out.
"I'm sorry I disappeared. Work has been... insane," she hears Lexa's huge sigh and some rustling of what sounds like paper.
"It's okay. I -- I haven't been in contact, either. I didn't want to bother you." Clarke clears her throat. "And, um -- we're taking it slow, so I thought... yeah."
"I think we're still allowed to text," Lexa says, and she can hear a small smile in her voice. That barely-there smile, where the corners of her lips point upwards, just barely, and green eyes twinkle with mirth.
God, she misses that smile so fucking much. "Right," she says instead. "Still. Do you, uh -- do you want to talk about it? Your work?"
Lexa sounds like she's wincing. "I talk enough about work at work," she says.
Clarke closes her eyes, clutching her phone to her ear and letting Lexa's voice soothe her. Maybe she does have a problem. "You can always trash talk your employees. Or disgustingly rich white men. I promise I won't tell."
Promise. That's what it always comes to, isn't it? Trusting her word. Trusting her.
Will they get there?
Lexa's quiet chuckles make her smile, too. "Tempting," she says. "Perhaps I'll take you up on that offer."
Clarke tries to go for casual. "I'm free tonight." She fails. But Lexa's chuckling again, and it doesn't matter.
"That's kind of why I'm calling," she tells her. "To ask you if you're free tonight. There's a new restaurant near your place."
"Oh," Clarke says. "Or -- we could stay in? I'm making a casserole. The one you like."
Lexa's smile is palpable in her voice. "Sounds like you planned this." And, God, will she ever stop seeing hidden meaning in every little phrase?
She swallows the sting down and nods. "Maybe I did. Or, maybe, I just happen to like that casserole, too."
"Right." Lexa's voice turns low and serious. "Are you -- I mean, is it okay if we stay in? I mean -- is it really taking it slow?"
Clarke rolls her eyes, but it's fond. "I think we're perfectly capable of controlling ourselves," she points out. "We proved that on more than one occasion."
There's still hesitation in Lexa's voice, but she agrees. "You're right. Okay. I still have some work left, but I'll be done in an hour."
"Okay." She chews on her lower lip, imagining Lexa in her office, table full of scattered papers and tie undone, hanging from her neck. She still hasn't seen Lexa's office. "See you soon."
"See you soon," Lexa echoes with a smile, and she's the first to end the call.
Okay. Now she needs to get to that casserole, stat.
//
She may have overestimated their self-control. Unsurprisingly, she doesn't have it in herself to feel guilty about it when she arches at Lexa's touch, panting against her lips.
"This," Lexa says in a feverish whisper, their lips touching as she caresses Clarke's sides, "this is not taking it slow."
"No, it's not," she agrees, and pulls her down for another kiss, this time heavier than the last. Lexa's tongue is wonderfully hot in her mouth, and she sucks on it, mentally high-fiving herself when Lexa lets out the smallest, most arousing gasp Clarke's ever had the pleasure of hearing. She answers with a low moan, and Lexa thrusts against her, making her back arch again as her thigh brushes against her increasingly damp center.
"Fuck," she breathes out when Lexa pulls her mouth away from hers, only to start raining tiny kisses on her neck. All she can do is cling to her, nails down her back as she kisses her shoulder, over and over. "Lexa..."
"Tell me," Lexa half-whispers, half-begs, her greedy hands massaging Clarke's inner thighs and causing her to moan again. "Tell me what you need."
She whimpers at that, because -- Lexa's pupils are so wide her eyes are practically black, and her kiss-bruised lips have never looked better. And--
You shouldn't be doing this, and you know it.
"I..."
"Clarke," Lexa whispers, leaning down to nibble at skin under her ear, and she shudders with the sharp wave of pleasure that rips through her at this simple act. It's been -- how long has it been for them?
Not long enough. Don't make this mistake.
"Tell me."
"I -- I think we should stop." It's almost funny, she thinks - how it physically pains her to say the words. Yet, at the same time, there's a lightness that comes with saying them. "I'm sorry," she says when Lexa practically deflates on top of her, her weight comfortably heavy.
"No," Lexa's answer is muffled because she's speaking into Clarke's neck, and Clarke wiggles a little, because she's still wet and she can feel it and it's quickly growing uncomfortable, and Lexa's breath on her skin is too pleasant. "Don't apologize. You're right." She stays on top of her for another second, and Clarke's too busy committing the moment to memory to catch her when she sits up. Without Lexa, it's cold. "I'm the one who's sorry," she tells her quietly, trying to catch her breath.
"Well," Clarke grins, and it's wry, but warm. "Let's agree both of us are at fault and leave it at that." She doesn't even know how this happened. One moment, she was opening the door and awkwardly greeting an equally awkward Lexa, and then, they are on the couch, a movie forgotten as they reacquaint themselves with each other.
Touches. It was all those fleeting, tender, barely there touches - and then, their eyes met, and the rest is pretty self-explanatory.
Perhaps Lexa was right. They should limit themselves to public places for a while. At least until this stupid sex ban is lifted.
God. She's not thinking with her brain right now. That sex ban is necessary if they want to salvage their relationship. Dr. Grant is right. They are like a moth and a flame. If one can be both things at once, because they are, at least to each other.
She thinks she's starting to figure it out. Sex is so much easier than talking. But talking is infinitely more capable of helping them than sex. And that's something she should always remind herself of.
Lexa lets out another huge sigh. Her breathing is almost back to normal. "Yeah. Okay. I, uh -- I will do better than that in the future."
"Me too," Clarke says, smiling. "So..." she glances at the screen. "Do you want to keep watching, or is that trash talk still on the table?"
Lexa's growing smile is a little tentative, but she nods. "Both of these things will put you to sleep, so why not?"
They talk for several hours, and it's well into the night that Lexa leaves, and she doesn't recoil from a slow goodnight kiss Clarke initiates.
She thinks it's a good thing.
They'll get there.