By the time Clarke woke up, the store was already open and she could hear the sounds of subdued activity below. There was a blue sticky note on the lamp beside the bed that read, 'Sorry we missed each other this morning. Lunch at one?'
Clarke smiled to herself, stretched again and got out of bed. She smiled wider when she opened the closet and saw her new clothes hung up beside Lexa's own. She could get used to this, sharing a space, sharing a home. She just needed to figure out a way for them to share a bed together, and everything would be perfect. Clarke used 'everything' very loosely in this domestic scenario.
After donning a pair of boot cut jeans and a black ribbed tank top, she brushed her hair and then braided it. She hadn't done this in ages, so it took several tries to achieve something that wasn't a complete disaster. She stuck the daisy securely through the smaller braid she had done on the side of her head. The welt on her neck had faded slightly but was still too obvious, so she applied liberal amounts of concealer to it, substantially lessening its sickening effect. Satisfied with this look, she brushed her teeth and made her way downstairs.
Someone was struggling to carry a large bag of soil to the cash register where an older, frail looking woman was waiting, with a cart full of soon to be planted flowers, so Clarke went over to take the other end. An attractive hazel eyed black woman was revealed to her with this action. Today she was dressed in a different flower dress and high heels. A dirty apron covered and sustained her front. Costia glared at her when she realized who was offering their help. Perhaps she had thought, or rather hoped Clarke would've already vacated the premises. Still, she didn't object and together they heaved the monstrosity onto the checkout counter.
It took ages for the old woman to figure out how to use her credit card, and Clarke had to stifle a laugh at the feigned look of understanding on Costia's face. Finally with that sorted, the old woman wheeled the cart outdoors, leaving Costia to deal with the bag of soil again. Without a word, Clarke offered her services again, and together they carried the thing out to the old woman's car, which thankfully was parked just outside in the handicapped spot. Clarke had no idea how the woman was going to manage it on her own, but it wasn't their problem anymore.
Costia waved goodbye to the woman and then turned to face Clarke. "Thanks," she said begrudgingly. "I hate when people go for the big bags of soil or fertilizer."
"Why didn't she just get some smaller bags?" asked Clarke as they made their way back into the store.
"Believe me, I suggested that myself, but she was set on getting the discount." Costia rolled her eyes. "She saved like fifty cents." There was a lull in the conversation in which she took the opportunity to subtly peruse her again. "Didn't take you for a redhead," she said idly, making Clarke stiffen slightly. "You look nice today, Claire."
"So do you, Costia," returned Clarke, after a moments confusion. "That dress really suits you."
There weren't any other customers in the store so Costia continued to grace her with her presence, as well as more questions. "What are you up to today?"
Honestly, she hadn't really thought about it yet, but Costia had a point, which became plainer as time marched on.
"If you've never been to Polis before, you should go sight seeing. There's a cool little art museum across town that has all sorts of interesting exhibits. Most have to do with nature, but in a kind of futuristic way."
"You're talking about The Glowing Forest, aren't you?"
"Oh, you've been already?" said Costia with a foiled look. "Well in that case, might I suggest Faya Tower? It's an incredible view from the top. Great for selfies."
Amused at Costia's attempts to get rid of her, she replied, "I don't actually have a cellphone."
This garnered her the most affronted look yet. "What do you mean, you don't have a cellphone? Everyone has a cellphone. My seven year old nephew has a cellphone!"
"Well, I don't," she said simply. It's most likely sitting in the evidence locker down at the 100th precinct.
Before Costia could respond to this, Lexa appeared from the back lot with a trowel in hand. Her hair was also done up differently today, pulled back into a messy top bun. She looked between them in a startled manner, which she quickly masked, and then asked Costia to go help Ms. Clineman choose between two nearly identical looking red dragon tails in the greenhouse.
When they were alone Lexa said, "Clarke, what are you doing down here? Didn't you see my note?"
No good morning, no nothing. Clarke was a little peeved. She was expecting to get complimented on her appearance. It took her nearly an hour to get her hair just like it had been when they were children, albeit rather redder. How is it that Costia, the woman who was less than fond of her, managed to appreciate her efforts, but not Lexa?
She crossed her arms, non-verbally displaying her displeasure. "I thought we agreed that I didn't have to stay up in your ivory tower?"
"Well, yes, but-"
"There's not much to do up there."
"I know, but-"
"So I think I'll take Costia's advice and go do some sight seeing. It's been a long time since I've been a tourist in my own city."
Lexa gaped at this declaration, and before she could react, Clarke had left the building. Lexa chased after her, trowel still in hand, eliciting some unwanted attention. "Clarke, you can't just go off like this!" she hissed under her breath.
"Watch me," retorted Clarke, power walking away from her.
When the obstinate girl attempted to cross the street, Lexa grabbed her arm, without even thinking. Fortunately she was wearing gardening gloves. "You don't have any money. You don't even have a cellphone!"
"Why does everyone keep harping on about that!" exclaimed Clarke. "We managed for thousands of years without them!" Clarke yanked her arm out of Lexa's grip, annoyed to see the finger shaped dirt prints. "I'm not going to sit around everyday like some bored housewife waiting for her husband to get home! Leave me alone, Lexa," she warned, "or I'll go straight to the cops!"
Lexa watched helplessly as Clarke stormed off, completely bewildered by her hostile attitude. All she could do was hope that Clarke would come back to her. Without a cellphone, she would never be able to find her again.
Her indignation subsided quickly after that outburst, replaced by reluctant admission. Lexa was right, it was stupid to have gone off without so much as a cellphone in her pocket. Polis was vast, and without even enough change for a subway ticket, she wasn't going to be getting very far, very fast, let alone doing any sightseeing. She thought about turning back, but that would've only proven that she was wrong, giving Lexa even more reason to never let her leave Grounders.
Not that she thought Lexa was being a control freak, not exactly. Their predicament was unusual, to say the least. Twice now she had caught her face on a discarded bit of newspaper. At the moment, her hair was the only thing distinguishing them apart, planting doubt in any onlookers minds.
When she calmed down enough to really pay attention to her surroundings, she at first thought she was completely lost, then was surprised to realize she really wasn't all that far away from her condo. Just one more block would see her there. To think she and Lexa had lived so close to one another for months if not years of time was astonishing. In a city this large, the chances were astronomical. She wondered how they had never bumped into one another. Then, more disheartening, she wondered if perhaps they had, more than once, but she hadn't recognized Lexa at the time. What if they had been passing each other on the streets like ships in the night for years and never realized it?
But no, she didn't think this was the case. She was sure she would have known Lexa anywhere, in any time. Their connection was that strong.
Clarke's curiousity got the best of her and she headed straight for her condo. She held back as she neared the tall, imposing structure, scouting out the area. As far as she could tell, there was no police presence out front. Lexa had seemed to think the entire building would be on lock down, even though her body was found outside. Even so, Clarke couldn't just walk through the front door and ride the elevator up to the ninth floor. On top of the security cameras, and the lack of key card, there was Nathan, Bryan, or Ryder to contend with. Having chatted with all of them on more than one occasion, all of them would know her on sight, regardless of hair colour.
So Clarke circumnavigated to the back (locked) entrance, where there were no (functional) cameras. Here she found evidence of the police, in the form of yellow tape. She stared for a moment at the place where they found her body, and then moved a trash can under the fire escape ladder so that she could just barely reach its bottom rungs.
Not in the best physical shape, it was quite the struggle to pull herself up to the first landing. Once she was there however, it was clear sailing until the ninth floor. She had purposely paid for direct access to this escape route. This also meant the window here had added security. Short of breaking it, setting off a silent alarm, she wasn't going to be able to get in. At least, that should have been the case. For whatever reason, the window was partially propped open. She listened for any signs of occupancy, but found none.
Continuing her daredevil streak, she slid the window up higher and climbed in. The place looked much as it always had. Apparently the police hadn't gone through her things. They didn't have a reason to after all. No crime was committed here. She smirked to herself, wondering if this technically counted as breaking and entering. By law, she was dead. This condo wasn't hers anymore.
After mindlessly wandering around for a few minutes, she thought of an actual good use to being here. Clarke went to her closet and pulled out the brand new backpack she had purchased, with the intent of going hiking with Octavia and Lincoln. She hadn't been looking forward to that excursion at the time, but now she would give anything to be able to go, to have them laugh at her inability to keep up.
She sighed, carrying the backpack into her office. She pressed on a seemingly inconspicuous piece of paneling. It retracted, revealing her hidden safe. She input the code - the date she graduated from med school - and the light turned green. Inside was her fathers broken watch, about thirty thousand dollars of emergency funds, her passport, and a pistol; a semi-automatic Smith and Wesson. The latter she had only purchased in the last year, when things had gone seriously downhill with Finn, around the same time the restraining order had been granted. Besides one time in a shooting range, she had never even fired it. She didn't even have additional ammo.
After a moment's consideration, she emptied the safe into the backpack. Being comprised of hundreds, the bills numbered precisely three hundred, and did not actually take up that much room. Still, with the solid gun in there too, it was heavy enough.
Just as she was zipping up, she heard the lock to the condo turn.
Shit!
Quickly, she closed the safe and the panel and hid inside the closet. Ignoring this irony, she listened intently, hoping whoever it was would be gone soon enough so that she could make her escape. Two pairs of footsteps could be heard, one more hesitant than the other. The muttering of soft voices (one male, one female) was emanating from her bedroom now, which was just the next room over. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but she didn't dare venture forth. That is, until she heard a woman sobbing.
Cautiously, Clarke moved out of her safe haven and nearer to the source of distress. Her own distress was magnified keenly when she recognized the man's voice, the one attempting to comfort the woman.
"...have to stay," said Marcus Kane. "If this is too hard for you, we can just go right now."
"No," replied her mother, when she had some control over her voice, "I want to be here. I need to be here."
Marcus Kane was a hospital administrator that worked directly under her mother (in more ways than one). Clarke had suspected they were in a relationship for some time now. For whatever reason, her mother had deemed it necessary to hide this from her, which was silly since she wasn't a child any longer, and arguably hadn't been since her father died. Clarke was glad that she wouldn't be alone through her grief, that she had someone to look after her.
"Okay," was the only reply. Then there was silence for many minutes, interspersed with the occasional sniffle.
There was literally nothing stopping her from showing her face right now, putting an end to this all too familiar pain. It would be a shock of course for her to simply waltz right into the room, but once that passed, she could take her mothers hand and explain the situation to her.
Or could she?
There wasn't really a logical reason for why she was currently alive. Part of the reason Clarke had followed in her mothers footsteps was to try and understand Lexa's gift, to maybe one day be able to artificially replicate it, sans side effects. Years ago she had started a side project that she intermittently worked on. Unfortunately, nothing she had ever read had come close to explaining the phenomenon. Now that she knew it was passed down genetically though, she was even more convinced that it was a mutation of some sort, one that she could isolate if she took a dna sample...and had unfettered access to a research lab.
Still, she doubted her mother would care very much as to why she was alive, just that she was. Clarke ached to just do it, to just show herself, but she couldn't. Exposing herself meant exposing Lexa, and that wasn't something she was willing to do just yet, not with Marcus there. It wasn't that she didn't trust Marcus, it was more that she didn't know him. Their paths had rarely crossed at the hospital, and even less frequently outside of it. If her mom was still dating him, he was probably a good guy, would probably keep this secret, but she didn't know for sure, so she couldn't risk it. She had already gambled enough today as it was.
So with a heavy heart, she shouldered the backpack more securely and left the way she had come.
Overwhelmed by a number of troubling thoughts, she unknowingly wandered around the city until her stomach rumbled and her back ached and her feet felt like they were on pins and needles. This time she truly had no idea where she was, other than the fact that the area didn't seem the friendliest, and more than one off putting person had eyed her with interest. Added to this distress, the sun was beginning its slow descent. Darkness would be falling within a few hours. Thankfully, she had a horde of bills to see her way 'home'. She sat on a bench covered in graffiti, a welcome relief to her tingling tissues, and nervously awaited the next taxi, feeling as though the money strapped to her back were a bomb about to go off.
Finally, with a huge sigh of relief, she hailed a cab and told him where to go. When Clarke entered Grounders again, bell chiming, Lexa looked over from behind the cash register where she was on the phone with what sounded like an incredibly slow customer. Clarke wondered if it was the same old woman from that morning.
Besides frowning at the backpack, she didn't even react to Clarke's presence, though Clarke could feel her eyes following her all the way up the stairs and into the apartment, which she had neglected to lock, which was just as well as she didn't have her own key yet.
She dumped the backpack on the coffee table and took a seat, waiting. Sure enough, Lexa made an appearance not long after. Impassively, she walked over to the backpack and unzipped it. Lexa looked inside for a long moment then glanced at Clarke, face still unreadable. Then, slowly, she clenched her fists, working her jaw back and forth. Clarke knew that sign well. Lexa was seriously pissed.
"You went to your condo," she said, tightly.
It wasn't a question but Clarke answered all the same, slightly breathless, ready for the fallout. "Yes."
But there was no fallout. Lexa simply jerked her head and walked away.
What the hell? she thought, bewildered.
If she were smarter she would have waited until Lexa cooled off a bit before approaching her again. Lexa didn't often get visibly angry, but when she did, it was absolutely terrifying. But Clarke wanted to reassure her that nothing happened, that she hadn't been spotted, that their secret was still safe, so she hurried down the stairs after her.
She waited for Lexa to finish pointing out where the hose nozzles were to a young man and then tried to strike up a conversation. Except Lexa willfully ignored her and headed into the back lot instead, were Costia was collecting empty plastic trays of plant holders. Costia watched them curiously, no doubt internally gloating over the fact that Lexa wouldn't give her the time of day.
"Lexa, please," she practically whined. "Just let me explain."
Nostrils flaring, like a bull about to charge, she told Costia to go see if the man inside needed any help making a selection and then to close up shop after he was done and go home. Costia's not so hidden smirk fell flat, and Clarke imagined she heard the woman grumbling under her breath as she went back inside.
Finally, Lexa's dark, intimidating gaze landed on her own. "Well," she said impatiently. "Explain."
Now that it came down to it, she really didn't have a good excuse for going there, especially not in the middle of the day. Sure the money would come in handy further down the line, but it wasn't an immediate necessity. As for the gun, well...
"That's what I thought," snapped Lexa dismissively, stalking into the greenhouse.
Like a fool, she followed her inside. Housing tropical plants, it was even more humid than she was expecting. The fact that it was pretty cramped only exacerbated the uncomfortable sensation.
Lexa whirled on her, nearly knocking some plants over, jaw working to and fro again. "Get out!" she snarled.
"Lexa, it's not that big a deal," she said standing her ground, though she was a bit afraid, which was ridiculous considering she had faced off with an actual gang leader once who was less than enthused with her medical performance. "Nothing happened. You don't have to worry-"
"But I do worry, Clarke," Lexa retorted, gripping her upper arms. Not enough to hurt, but hard enough to feel Lexa's pent up tension through those same dirty gardening gloves. "Your cavalier attitude isn't exactly helping to reduce my anxiety." Her eyes flashed to Clarke's hair, it seemed a strange moment to decide to finally compliment her handiwork. "Where's your daisy?"
"It's not there?" she said in a small voice, hoping to God she hadn't lost it in her condo for her mother to find.
Lexa closed her eyes, grip tightening, neck muscles tensing. "Clarke, you're driving me insane!"
Apparently in more ways than one. Clarke had noticed Lexa's soiled clothing in the hamper this morning. Full of herself, she assumed that she was the cause. It seemed a reasonable assumption after how red Lexa got as she tried on progressively skimpier clothing. Not to mention the sultry looks she had been giving her while dancing. Clarke had planned to tease Lexa about her nocturnal emissions, but then they had butted heads for basically no reason, and the chance was lost. Now didn't seem like a particularly good time either.
And yet, "you're driving me insane too," slipped out before she could stop it.
Lexa's eyes snapped open, boring into Clarke's. Then they followed a trail of sweat dripping from her neck and down into her cleavage. When her gaze came back up, it was markedly different, full of want. Full of lust. Clarke's own excitement was quickly rising, though she didn't know what to do about it.
Looking at her lips, Lexa leaned forward slightly, then thought better of that, and pulled back, stamping her foot into the cement floor in frustration. She looked like a child on the verge of having a temper tantrum, her favourite toy locked away.
The dilemma was obvious, how to touch without touching. At first glance it was a seemingly impossible conundrum to solve. In reality, it wasn't half so complicated.
"Lexa," said Clarke huskily, breaking through her foul mood, "let go of me."
As if in a daze, Lexa obeyed. Clarke flexed her hands a few times and then placed the right one on Lexa's hip. Nudging her sideways gently and into a table, she held Lexa's gaze as she moved her left hand onto her upper thigh.
"Hold onto the table behind you with both hands." A faint smirk graced her lips. "I know it'll probably be difficult, but try not to move too much."
Understanding her intent, Lexa nodded, breaths already coming out in faster, irregular spurts. Clarke shifted her left hand slightly closer to its destination and then stopped, a flicker of doubt crossing her mind.
Was she really about to do this? Was she really about to do this with her childhood friend that she hadn't seen in eighteen years and only just been reunited with?
It may have been soon, but it felt right. Within hours of being around Lexa again, the childish awkwardness had vanished, the mental image of the lanky little girl eradicated. In its place had been an increasingly painful awareness and appreciation for just how hot Lexa had become. She was seriously supermodel hot, and combined with her mysterious aura, she could probably get any girl she wanted without much effort.
A flash of jealousy consumed her for a moment. Just how many girls had Lexa been with since they parted? If she hadn't been so pigheaded herself, they could've been together all this time...perhaps even married. They could've been having hot sex everyday for the past decade. Short of finding a time machine, there was nothing she could do about that now. She could however ease some of Lexa's current stresses.
"Are you sure?" she asked, breaking the heated silence, air thick as much from the external environment as the internal one.
Once more Lexa dipped her head, exhaling shakily. "Touch me, Clarke."
Decision absolutely made, she moved her hand to Lexa's vaguely damp crotch, lightly cupping her. Lexa groaned as Clarke added more pressure with the heel of her hand, but otherwise kept still as instructed. Smirking some more, she began to rock the heel of her hand ever so slowly, torturous.
When the teasing got to be too much, Lexa jerked her hips, whined, "Clarke!" and Clarke took pity on her, rocking her hand faster and harder. Moaning, Lexa threw her head back, trembling with the effort to keep her hands in place, to not give into the strong desire to touch Clarke back. Clarke was captivated and thrilled by the sounds emanating from her best friend. She had never expected to hear such things, but now that she had, she would do anything to keep them going.
Still moving her hand, she dropped to her knees. Like Indiana Jones, she swapped her hand for her mouth so swiftly that Lexa didn't even notice for the first few seconds. Then she gasped at the sensation of Clarke's hands on her inner thighs, pushing her pants upwards as taut as possible, the better to feel Clarke's mouth with. To get through the layers of clothing and provide a decent level of stimulation, Clarke had to be quite aggressive with her ministrations, and consequently she was all but chomping chunks out of Lexa's crotch.
Nearing the finish line, one of Lexa's hands had migrated to her head, disobeying orders. Too intent on her task, Clarke didn't bother to scold her. Keeping her in place had been less of a sex thing and more of a staying alive thing. Quite aroused herself, she stuck a hand down her pants and got to work, panting along with Lexa. With unyielding fingers, Clarke rubbed Lexa out the rest of the way, fast and furious. Lexa came, mostly silently, tugging on her hair to the point of pain. Clarke licked once at the resulting surge of liquid through her pants, tasting more of the fabric than anything else, but enjoying the hint of tang and musk all the same. She finished herself off not long after this, shuddering and leaning her forehead into Lexa's leg. Sweat was dripping off both their bodies and Clarke wanted nothing more than to shed her sticky clothing. She imagined Lexa felt much the same way considering her situation down below. Not unlike last night, she snickered internally.
It was within moments of this thought that a familiar voice exclaimed, "Santa mierda!"
Startled, they turned to find Raven in the greenhouse entryway. Once she too had gotten over her initial shock, she looked at Lexa and grinned. "Told you you'd be fucked."
chomping chunks out of lexa's crotch...the most poetic i've ever been, agree or disagree?