Thank you for all the love. What a wild ride! I just had an idea about Clarke getting harassed by idiots and Lexa taking that opportunity to steal a kiss.
I'm having so much fun writing these two.
Let me know how you think I'm doing; and if you have any questions.
"Are you going to make it?" The only response Octavia got was a groan. "When did you get home?"
Clarke was laying face down on the couch, her feet up on the armrest, one arm hanging off playing with her phone on the floor. She's in her well worn navy blue University of Colorado EMS t-shirt, and a pair of black soccer shorts she dug out of the hamper in the dark. As she turns, phone in her hand, the navy blue tshirt bunches up and let's a few freckles on her flat belly peek out.
"Uuumm after 4." She throws the phone to a nearby chair and massages her face with both hands. "I slept down here. Are these your shorts? It was all I could find to change into in the laundry room."
"Damn! The teenager must now a thing or two." Octavia is half dressed in soccer shorts, a sports bra and sox. Her long brown hair tied neatly into a ponytail.
"She's not a teenager anymore. You can put your arrest warrant away; she turned 20 last night."
"Still a baby thought."
"I'm sorry, weren't we celebrating your 21st the summer before last? Am I getting that confused with your 31st?"
"Good point. I'm going to see if I can jump in on a game today. Can I take your truck?" Clarke looks over at where she threw her phone leaning on her elbows and flops back down folding her arm over her face.
"Sure. Actually, can I go with you? I could use the distraction."
"Um... Sure. What's up?" Octavia pats Clarke's legs indicating she'd like to sit where they are resting.
"Nothing. It's just." Octavia can see a smile forming under Clarke's arm. "It's too soon to call, right?"
"Fancy meeting you here?" Clarke sets her kit on the ground and kneels down to assess the injury. The beautiful brunette from the night before is laid out face down on the grass, in a black soccer uniform with a thin red zigzag line running the circumference of her ribcage and a big number 10 on the back, black sox with a pair of red stripes up each side pulled up to her knee and gold cleats. Clarke squeezes some ointment on her hands and starts rubbing the aggrieved hamstring, "I think it's just a cramp." Lexa turns her head towards Clarke and bites down arm so as not to scream as her charlie horse get's squeezed out. "This is probably a fairly common injury for birthday girls who spend all night dancing, then try to run down a loose ball and get tackled." Lexa's teeth release her own skin to smile at her medic who is enjoying rubbing Lexa's thigh. "My friend Octavia is over there talking to your team, she's looking to sub in." She nods to the sideline a cluster of red and black surrounds the a small brunette with a red number 9 jersey.
Lexa is not about to get subbed, she starts to get up. "Ok, I'm good." Pushing on her good leg to a standing position. Then bending at the waist a few times to work the rest of the cramp out. "The world's most beautiful paramedic, if I'm lucky someone will knock the wind out of me and you can come back to give me mouth to mouth." She winks at Clarke running backwards a few steps, then straightening out pulling at her ponytail. "Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!" she yells at her teammates, pulling them from Octavia's gravity field. Clarke watches her bound away kneeling on the field for a few seconds before she can gather herself and her stuff and finds Octavia heading to the truck.
"Oh my God! Is that the Lexa?" Octavia is talking a little louder than Clarke would like as they pass families in folding chairs along the sidelines. She nods sinking her hands deep into the pockets of her corduroy jacket.
Clarke had driven right on to the field almost, "You never know when a compound fracture is going to ruin your Saturday." she had said backing the truck up from the parking lot. "Please keep your voice down." Clarke looks around and smiles at some onlookers, and brings her shoulders up, a feeble attempt to hide her face.
"I'm not even into that, but I might make an exception. Does she have any brothers?" Octavia ads watching Lexa steal a ball.
Octavia and Clarke sit on the tailgate and watch the rest of the match. Number 10 dribbles her opponents dizzy, every time she has the ball, if someone had the audacity to challenge her she makes them regret it, popping the ball up and over their heads, through their legs, dribbling with her heals. The crowd egging her on with an "ole!" every time. She even got to watch her signature move, heading the ball into the goal, "Header!" the crowd cheered, "Header!" And suddenly the previous night's greeting made sense.
When the game was over Lexa came trotting up to the truck just as Octavia ran off to exchange numbers with both teams, offering to sub. "I think I need another one of those massages, gorgeous."
"I thought you had left all of your fancy moves on the dance floor last night."
"You should remember I also had fancy moves when I was sitting right here." Lexa slides her hands up Clarke's thighs sending chills up her neck. Clarke doesn't even look around to see who's watching, Lexa has a disarming effect on her, when she's around her guard goes down. Clarke reaches up and removes a blade of grass from number 10's face, "Thank you." Lexa leans in and is met with a soft kiss, when she tries to turn up the heat Clarke pulls away, leaning back on her hands. "Do you want to come back to the house? I'm feeding the team."
"I have Octavia with me."
"So? Bring her too."
"Aren't you sick of me yet?"
"Are you sick of me?" Lexa takes a step back but Clarke grabs her hands before they slide off her thighs shaking her head as she pulls Lexa's hands around her waist kissing the newly minted 20 year old. Her lips taste of salt and yellow gatorade.
"Take it easy you two, some of us are trying not to vomit."
"Lexa, this is my oooooold friend Octavia."
Octavia reaches her hand out, but Lexa hugs her instead, "Fuck you." She says over Lexa's shoulder, causing her to pull away quick, "Oh, not you...her. She's making fun of me for something I said about 5 hours ago." Octavia points to the field, "You are a little too good for this league."
"It's the best I can do in this area. It keeps me in shape and is more fun than going for a 10 kilometer run."
"I hear you there. Did you play in college?"
"No, in Argentina, I played for the national 18 and older team. I wanted to play pro, but it didn't work out."
"What happened?"
"I came here. Listen, why don't you both come to the house, and have lunch with us." Octavia and Clarke exchange a few looks, the blonde implying that it was up to her to decide. "Did you just talk to each other telepathically? That was amazing. Lincoln!"
The tall young man from the night before starts towards them. Octavia's eyes get wide and she tries to contain the fact that she is scanning every inch of him, from his shaved head, to his trimmed beard. From his wide muscular shoulders under his denim jacket to his sagging pants exposing just enough of his Diesel briefs. When he smiles and says a sweet "Damas" Octavia shots one eyebrow straight up.
"Pasa por el mercado, busca otro pollo, y unos chorizos más. Me parece que las tengo convencidas que vengan." Lexa looks between them, "You are coming?" They both nod.
After much deliberation about who needed to go where Lexa ended up in the truck with Clarke and Octavia in Lincoln's red GTI. Dashboard Confessional is blaring out of Clarke's speakers as they make stops for beer and then the restaurant, there was a pause in the conversation that lasted almost two blocks. Enough for Hands Down to play in it's entirety.
"So you've only been in the states for a few years?"
"Yes, I finished high school there and then came. But the school year is different than here, so I was a year ahead of where I would have been here." Clarke was getting used to getting more information than she bargained for, "I was going to study political science in university. But, someone close to me, she was killed and my parents felt that it was not safe for me in Argentina, so."
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry. Who was she?" Clarke reaches and turns the music down to a whisper.
"She was a teammate, and my girlfriend."
"I'm so sorry. What was her name?"
"Kostia, she hated it because it was a boy's name."
"I hear that."
"I love your name, Clarke."
"Sit closer to me?"
"I stink."
"I don't mind." They drive the rest of the way listening to the music in silence, with Clarke reaching from Lexa's bare knee to the shifter, and Lexa's arm up on the back of the seat, her twisting Clarke's golden curls around her thin fingers.
When they get back to the house, Lexa takes Clarke by the hand and pausing only to instruct that no one is to start grilling until she returns leads them both to her room. Clarke scans the crowd and spots Octavia and Lincoln talking by the coolers just as the screen door closes behind her. The house is small; they walk into the kitchen, on the other side of it Clarke can see a room with a couch and a tv, in the corner of the kitchen there is a flight of stairs at the top is Lexa's room.
Lexa walks in an deposits her cleats in a plastic bin, Clarke is right behind her. Lexa's room is bright, the walls are painted yellow, the bedspread is green, there is a small brown desk in the corner with a computer and books on a shelf above the screen. There is a framed poster of a horse in mid gallop in a field over the bed, and another framed poster of Messi in his blue and red jersey arms out, one foot planted the other mid strike. The bed is low to the ground and has a single piece of wood as the headboard. A long shelf holds family photos, Clarke walks over to them: Lexa as a very cute and very fat baby with a crown of brown curls, Lexa's parents on their wedding day, Lexa and Raven smiling in knitted caps and scarves about 5 years ago, Lexa in a jersey different from the one she wore today her arm wrapped around a teammate's shoulders both of them beaming smiles. The teammate's features are a lot like Lincoln's, she's taller than Lexa, full brown lips, rich caramel colored eyes, her tight curls held back with a headband.
"Is this Kostia?" As Clarke turns her attention back to Lexa she is already half undressed and heading into the bathroom.
"Yes."
"She was beautiful."
"Yes." Lexa disappears into a small bathroom.
"Don't get your stitches wet."
"They are on my right hand. Are you coming to help me?" Lexa ducks her head back into the bedroom.
"What happened to the latex gloves I have you last night?"
"They were for showering? I gave them to Raven, her hands are always so dirty. Come help me?" Ignoring the request Clarke flops down on the bed, and pulls out her phone from her pocket.
When Lexa comes back out of the bathroom she is wearing only underwear, a pair of red and white boy short and with a matching red and white bra. Clarke suddenly can't remember how to breath. Lexa's hair is in a towel, and when she turns her back to her guest she reveals a truly amazing sight.
Starting on her right hip and winding up through her back there is a large tattoo of a tree, it's 3 inch wide trunk twisted and braided on to itself, dark brown branches reach up through her lats and across the the middle of her back disappearing into a canopy of green that ends midway up her shoulderblades under her bra strap, over her left shoulder a dove flies. Clarke remembers how her hands had moved over this skin the night before, unaware of the art beneath her fingertips. She puts her phone on the night stand but doesn't take her eyes off Lexa as she walks to the computer turns on some music and proceeds to bounce around the room, every so often throwing an article of clothing on the bed. With every twist of her hips and jut of a shoulder she reveals another expertly chiseled muscle.
"What do you see Clarke Griffin?"
"A most magnificent sight."
"Yeah?" She walks across the top of the bed and comes down over Clarke's hips, long bare legs folding on either side of her. "Will you help me with this?" In her hand is a new piece of gauze and the small roll of tape Clarke gave her the night before. Still laying down Clarke cuts four strips of tape with her teeth, and sticks them to Lexa's thigh. Then folds the gauze to make a rectangle laying it over the knuckles with little black knots on them the skin is pink and a little swollen under the knots. Lexa watches as Clarke lays the tape in a perfect parallel. When she's done she sits up and flips Lexa's hand and kisses the palm, then kisses the inside of the wrist, then the inside of the elbow, then the shoulder, then the two kisses on the sternum, one on the chin. Lexa reaches up and takes the towel from her hair, as Clarke kisses her mouth, cool brown strands of hair cascade over her face.
When Clarke's hands squeeze and caress the Argentinean's back she thinks of the image inked there, and tries to feel the edges. With one arm wrapped along Lexa's lower back Clarke shifts them both until Lexa is lying down and she is on top of the tight body in red and white. She slides her wrapped arm up and when it's hooked under Lexa's right arm she lifts one more time so Lexa's head is on her pillows. "Why are you so strong?" The Argentinean's arms are draped over Clarke's shoulders when she shrugs.
Clarke pauses a moment before pushing her hips down on Lexa's, as she looks into Lexa's eyes she remembers to take her keys out of her pocket and puts them on the night stand. Lexa's hands slide off Clarke's shoulders and wrap around her face as they start to kiss. The blonde lays her entire weight on the muscled girl below her. Feeling every inch of skin on the long toned legs at her sides.
Lexa slides one hand beneath blue jeans raking her nails against skin that dimples as Clarke pushes her hips down. Her hands reach for the hem of Clarke's shirt again, and again the blonde shakes her head, pinning the wrists under the pillow. "Not yet." Lexa whimpers into Clarke's kiss.
Lexa complies and buries her hands under the headboard. Clarke works her way down from Lexa's lips kissing bare solders, collarbones, and breasts. With each kiss she can feel Lexa's body is working hard to keep her hands on the headboard her muscles ripple and struggle against each other, her hips and ribcage twist. The twisting gets worse when Clarke sits up on her knees and slowly traces her hands down from the brown curls to the red and white briefs. Sliding her index finger under the elastic, she looks up into the eager green eyes, "Is this ok?" Lexa nods quickly for a while biting her bottom lip before Clarke moves her hands and removes them.
Kissing Lexa's hips, thighs and knees Clarke adjusts her body so that her knees on the edge of the bed, and the back of Lexa's thighs are resting on her shoulders and she begins kissing, teasing, and licking. She can feel her warm excitement in her mouth as her hands reach up to find exposed nipples. She doesn't stop when hips are shaking, she doesn't stop when thighs tighten around her ears, or hands are in her hair, or because of moaning, or because of screaming, she stops when hips are lifted up off the mattress from a back that is arched in excruciating ecstasy.