Chapter 1 - Dress Of Sea Waves and Lips

The ceiling was leaking. The water drip-dropped into a little blue plastic bucket as the rain thundered harder outside. The apartment was warmer than it had been in months. Desperate times call for desperate measures. The cat clock on the wall above the tv ticked calmly and the light left on by the desk was about ready to flicker out and die. A fire lapped at small logs in the fireplace and cast an orange glow to the caramel colored walls. Claps of thunder raged behind the sliding glass door, and the potted plant on the balcony tipped over. A mess of papers littered the living room floor and a small black paw made it crumple.

The stream of water gushed out of the sink and onto the metal and down the drain once Lexa turned it on. She placed the cup under the stream of water and leaned her arm against the counter. She was extremely exhausted from the past few days, but not even remotely as fatigued as Clarke was. The poor girl has been in bed for the past few days puking her guts out, shivering and sweating. And Lexa is truly surprised she hasn't gotten it yet. Despite Clarke's best efforts to convince Lexa to sleep on the couch and stay away from her as best as she could, Lexa was too stubborn. She took care of Clarke, cooked for her, gave her medicine, held her hair away from her face when she began her routine of vomiting, and cuddled her when she whimpered and cried. And at night, Lexa would wake to find Clarke dry heaving or coughing over the side of the bed, cursing and panting when nothing emptied from her. Then she would curl up into Lexa where Lexa would then rub her back and make trips throughout the night to the kitchen to get her some more water or saltines. Lexa was more than okay with battling her own exhaustion as long as Clarke got better.

Lexa turned off the sink, then placed the glass into the microwave, heating it up. She pulled the sleeves of her sweater over her palms and grabbed the hot glass of water, then set it gingerly onto the counter where she poured some salt into it. She mixed it around to her best advantage and grabbed the cup once again. Clarke groaned from their bedroom and started to whimper.

"I'm coming, baby," Lexa called out to her.

She sped walked the short distance from the kitchen to their bedroom and sat the glass of water on the bedside table. Bottles of pills were toppled over and spilling capsules next to the book Lexa kept by the lamp. Clarke clutched Lexa's pillow and merely cried into it.

"Oh, baby" Lexa sighed. She hated when Clarke was sick. It rarely happened, but when it did, it always hit her hard and left her on her bum. "I got you some salty water, baby. If you gargle it, it will help your throat."

Clarke looked up at Lexa with watery pink eyes. She was drenched in sweat and some of her hair stuck to the sides of her face. Lexa felt so helpless when Clarke looked at her like that. Lexa picked up the glass which had cooled down a bit since she first heated it, and handed it to Clarke.

"Just gargle it then swallow it, honey."

Clarke nodded and took the cup from Lexa. She looked like a weak little bird. Her arms shook as she lifted the cup to her lips and she sipped the savory water. Clarke tilted her head back and made an attempt to gargle. Her throat burned and protested and she swallowed the water with a grimace. Lexa sat the cup back on the table and sat on the mattress. Clarke looked at her in alarm and Lexa felt her skin prick.

"Lex," Clarke panicked.

"What? What is it?"

"Diarrhea!"

"Oh fuck," Lexa cursed and jumped to her feet. She ran over to Clarke's side of the bed, scooped her up in her arms and darted for the door. Clarke wrapped her arms around Lexa's neck suddenly feeling herself get queasy and even more nauseous.

"You hold it, Clarke. We're almost there." Lexa panted as she ran down the hall and into the bathroom. Lexa sat Clarke down carefully on the cool tiles of the bathroom and flicked the light on. Clarke had already gotten herself onto the toilet, but before Lexa could remind her to pull her pants down, the world fell apart and Clarke was crying. Sickness: 10 Lexa: 0.

/

On the seventh day, Clarke was starting to feel better. Her sweating and chills had stopped completely and her stomach began to be more nice and considerate to her. She was left with a scratchy throat, evil cough and a very obnoxious stuffy nose. Lexa was just thankful her wife was getting better. There was nothing worse in the world than seeing Clarke suffer, except for Clarke when she was mad. But make up sex almost always occurred after she might've done something to anger Clarke. Sickness was different. The weakness and the lack of any motivation made it even more cruel for the both of them.

Clarke had finally gotten out of bed and moved her illness to the couch where she laid herself on top of Lexa, her head on Lexa's chest as they watched 'The Last Time I Saw Paris'. Lexa had her legs wrapped around Clarke's and she ran her fingers softly through Clarke's hair. She rubbed Clarke's scalp slowly to soothe the headache Clarke had been whining about previously. Clarke's eyes began to droop closed. She forced them open and sighed. Lexa stared down at her wife lovingly, wishing she could take all of the illness away. She leaned down and kissed Clarke on the top of the head. Clarke hummed softly and nuzzled her face into the valley between Lexa's breasts and kissed her there. Clarke cleared her throat and grimaced at the pain. Lexa started to rub Clarke's temples and Clarke beamed up at her as if she were a god.

"You're a saint you know that?" Clarke mumbled and laid her head back down onto Lexa's chest. Lexa's heart thudded in a mellow pace beneath Clarke's ear and she felt she could melt from being so content.

Lexa scoffed. "Babe all I've done is take care of you."

"Hence why you're a saint."

"You're my wife. I'll always take care of you."

Clarke always indulged in the way Lexa said wife. She always said it so warmly, and Clarke figured she would never get tired of it. She was starting to like it more than her own name. They had been married for nearly three months now. And they were happily enjoying each other's company. Then illness knocked on their front door and invited itself right on into Clarke's system, and Lexa was left with a 25 year old baby on her hands. But Lexa could never be more happy in her entire life.

"Can you take care of this ache between my thighs?" Clarke lifted her head up and faced Lexa so she could give her the puppy dog eyes she knew Lexa couldn't resist. But Lexa turned her head to the television and focused on Elizabeth Taylor's eyes instead.

"You're still sick, Clarke." Lexa reprimanded. "As much as I'd love to, we have to wait until you're better."

Clarke pouted and sat her head back down onto Lexa's chest once more. An idea formed in her head and a mischievous grin formed over her face. Lexa's attention was focused on the events flashing before them on the tv. Elizabeth Taylor was running home in the rain in the streets of Paris after the man she was vying for had left the cafe they were previously in. Clarke began to move Lexa's right leg so it was then underneath her. Clarke let her left leg swing over Lexa's right. And just like that, Clarke's center was pressed against Lexa's thigh. Lexa hadn't even noticed, too glued to the tv. She felt the movements but figured Clarke was just trying to get comfortable. Clarke was indeed comfortable. She sneakily chanced a glance at Lexa and revelled in the view of Lexa's sharp jawline. She refrained from reaching out and kissing it.

Clarke placed her head back down on Lexa's chest and closed her eyes. She released a sigh and began to slowly move her hips against Lexa's thigh. Lexa absentmindedly moved her hands to Clarke's lower back and began to rub there. Clarke bit her lip, trying to muffle a moan that would surely come out if she wasn't careful. She rocked her hips slowly, and started to pick up pace when Lexa's heart rate started to race in her ear. The fast pace and Clarke's small moan made Lexa snap out of the movie and she looked down at Clarke as she dry humped her. It was a beautiful sight and Lexa wished she could allow it to go on. But Clarke was sick and needed rest. There was enough time for sex when Clarke was well.

Lexa brought Clarke's hands to her mouth and kissed her fingers startling the blonde to stop her movements abruptly.

"When you're better," Lexa whispered. "I promise."

Clarke grumbled and begrudgingly let her hips stay still against Lexa. The pool of wetness between her thighs made it even more irritating.

"I am practically better, Lex." Clarke argued.

"Once that stuffy nose, sore throat, and cough go away I will be more than happy to make love to you. But right now, you need a nap. You're getting grumpy."

Clarke knew her wife was right. She was always right. Clarke huffed and closed her eyes. That didn't stop her from placing her hands on Lexa's shoulders and began rubbing away the exhaustion. Lexa hummed softly and Clarke thought maybe if she just touched her in the right place she could-

"Don't even think about it." Lexa laughed.

Clarke's hands went slack and she let them rest there against Lexa's warm shoulders as they watched the movie. Clarke was asleep in five minutes and Lexa chuckled to herself. She was in love with a stubborn beautiful artist. And she wouldn't want it any other way.

/

The grocery store was so sparse, that there were only about two workers on the job. Clarke and Lexa rolled their cart through the aisles grabbing different foods. They placed toilet paper, paper paper plates and some cat food for Stitch in the cart. Then Clarke brought a case of Angry Orchard to the cart and lightly dropped it in. Lexa pointed a look at her and Clarke rolled her eyes.

"I can drink, Lexa." Clarke sighed and grabbed a bag of cheetos from the shelf. "I've only got the stuffy nose now."

"Still," Lexa mumbled but didn't press the conversation on further.

Clarke and Lexa placed assortments of food and drinks in their carts and strolled to the gift section.

"Lincoln's birthday is coming up," Lexa said.

"And you wanna get him something from Fisher's Market?" Clarke lifted an eyebrow.

"Well maybe something tiny from here, yes. It isn't bad, Clarke. Then we'll go to Kal's and buy him a shirt or something."

Clarke nodded at Lexa's plan. Lincoln wasn't picky and his shirts were starting to get too tight anyway from all of the muscles he was gaining. Not that Octavia minded in the slightest.

Lexa grabbed the boxed watch and examined it. She remembered Lincoln talking about his previous watch breaking. Then Octavia's argument about not needing one when he had a phone. He still liked to have a watch, and didn't want to rely every little thing on his phone. Lexa placed the watch in the cart and Clarke nodded at her choice.

Once back at home, Lexa started dinner and Clarke laid on her belly on the livingroom floor drawing a charcoal image of Stitch as the black cat laid perfectly in front of Clarke. The warm orange color of the fireplace lit him up perfectly and Clarke smiled. He was such a good cat. Anya had given Stitch to Clarke and Lexa as a wedding gift, but everyone knew Stitch was rightfully Lexa's. The cat followed her everywhere, and soon became attached to Clarke just as much as he was to Lexa.

The cat purred as Clarke continued to draw him in detail. Frank Sinatra's voice flowed heavenly through the apartment and Lexa swayed her hips seductively. Clarke looked up as her wife danced and she felt that fire low in her stomach that hasn't been cured in over a week due to her sickness. She wiggled her nose and inhaled through it. No objection or stuffiness to it. Clarke jumped up in happiness and tip toed over to Lexa who now began singing along to 'Strangers In The Night.' Clarke snuck up behind her and wrapped her arms around Lexa and let her hands rest on her flat tummy. They swayed together and sang along as the mac and cheese cooked on the stove. Clarke twirled Lexa around and held her closer. When Frank Sinatra started to hum, Clarke leaned in to kiss Lexa tenderly. Lexa kissed her back eagerly, knowing Clarke was no longer sick. Lexa ran her hands all over Clarke's back and slid her tongue over Clarke's, groaning at the taste of her wife. Clarke gripped Lexa's hips and pulled her hard against her as the kiss intensified. They didn't even register the front door opening and closing. Then a throat was being cleared and the two women stubbornly pulled away from each other to see a disheveled Anya standing a few feet away from them.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we need to talk."