"WAKE UP, RAVEN!"

"I swear, I will fucking end you," Raven groans from the couch, face down, her head buried underneath a pillow. Clarke laughs and sits down on the couch beside Raven's sprawled out body, placing a hand on her back.

"Someone's a little hung over, huh?" Clarke says teasingly, glancing back up at Lexa who lingers nearby. Lexa chuckles and shakes her head.

"Go away," Raven groans again, not bothering to move.

"Awww, Raven," Clarke coos mockingly. "You know, I'm disappointed in you. You're really slipping."

"Clarke," Raven growls warningly.

"I mean, you used to drink me under the table, and now look at you." Clarke shakes her head and clicks her tongue. "Shame."

"I need you to stop talking," Raven says, reaching for the pillow and pulling it tighter against her head, trying to block her out.

"Don't be mean, Clarke," Lexa says as she leans against the doorway, folding her arms across her chest. Raven finally lifts her head from her cocoon of pillows and squints up at Lexa, and then looks back at Clarke sitting near her hip.

"Lexa's a smart girl. Listen to Lexa," she says, and then plops her head back into the corner of the couch and pulls the pillow back over her ears. Clarke laughs and pats the girl on the back before leaving her to her hangover.

"Coffee?" Clarke asks as she walks back over to Lexa. She nods and follows Clarke into the kitchen. Beer bottles and plastic cups cover every available surface, an empty bottle of rum still sitting at the kitchen table. Lexa feels her stomach churn with the remnants of alcohol, but she feels better than she thought she would and calls it a win.

Clarke pulls a mug from a cabinet and then fills it with coffee before handing it to Lexa. "There's sugar and creamer if you want it," she offers, and Lexa just smiles before lifting the mug to her lips. "Of course you like it black."

The warmth and bitterness makes her insides buzz, and she starts to feel human again. Clarke refills her own mug and then tops it off with vanilla creamer and two packets of sugar, and then takes a seat at the table. Lexa follows and takes a seat next to the blonde. When she watches her take a sip of her coffee, she shakes her head and laughs.

"Just watching you drink that makes my teeth hurt," she says. Clarke just shrugs her shoulders.

"How else do you think I got so sweet?" She smirks playfully, taking another long sip of the sugared down coffee. "Do you have plans today?"

"Work."

"Oh, what time?"

Lexa glances at the clock on the stove. "11 to 7. I should probably get going, actually."

Clarke nods and doesn't allow herself to feel disappointed. She would keep Lexa here all day if she could, keep her wrapped in her arms up in her bed while she traced over the ink embedded in her skin.

Lexa reaches across the table and laces her fingers with Clarke's, and she doesn't say anything but she smiles and Clarke smiles back. "Maybe we can make plans for later?" The lilt in her voice indicates the question in her statement, reveals the insecurity that she's been trying to suppress. Clarke squeezes her hand reassuringly and nods, and Lexa visibly lets out the breath she held in her lungs.

When they finish their coffee, Clarke places both the mugs in the sink and then follows Lexa reluctantly to the front door. She doesn't want the brunette to leave, and she knows how silly and childish that seems. They've only known each other a couple days. One night of sex doesn't mean anything. But still, she craves Lexa's presence and isn't ready to let it go.

"Have a good day, Clarke," Lexa says as she reaches the front door.

"You too," Clarke responds before leaning forward to place a kiss on Lexa's cheek. When she goes to pull away, Lexa reaches for her waist and pulls her back, smiling before kissing her on the lips. When they break apart, Lexa cups Clarke's cheek and strokes her thumb across the soft skin.

"We'll talk later, okay?" Clarke nods and then Lexa pulls the front door open and then pulls it shut behind her. Clarke stands alone in the hallway, all of the events from the day before playing over and over in high speed.

"Was that Lexa just leaving?" Clarke turns to see Octavia walking down the stairs, Lincoln close behind her. Clarke nods and then goes back to the living room while Octavia kisses Lincoln goodbye before he leaves.

"What the hell happened last night?" Octavia asks, sitting next to Clarke on the loveseat in the living room. Clarke chuckles and shakes her head.

"You know, I don't really know," she responds, thinking back to the previous night and the sequence of events.

"Is Rae alive?" Octavia glances at the body of her sassy friend, unmoving except for the gentle rise and fall of her back.

"Barely."

"So did you and Lexa…?"

"Yeah. You and Lincoln?"

"Yep."

"Regrets?"

"None. You?"

Clarke pauses for a second, considering the repercussions of their night together for the first time. Clarke knows that what happens next is critical to where their relationship goes next. Lexa may never text or call her again. Clarke may have just been the latest booty call on Lexa's list of women. Or Lexa could turn into one of those crazy, clingy, stalker girls. Highly unlikely, of course, but still possible. Either way, Clarke doesn't know Lexa very well, but she knows enough to know that she guards herself carefully. She may very easily feel some regret toward letting her walls down so willingly with Clarke.

Nonetheless, Clarke wouldn't take it back for anything, and she shakes her head in response. "Not at all."

Clarke and Octavia smile warmly at each other, both their hearts quietly swelling with the memories of the night before. They settle into the couch together, sitting silently and thinking to themselves.

"Was he good?" Clarke finally breaks the silence.

"I came three times, Clarke," Octavia gushes, her eyes sparkling deviously. The blonde laughs at loud and Octavia joins her.

"What about Lexa?"

"You know how I said she's really good at guitar and really good at ice skating?" Clarke asks, and Octavia nods. "Well, she's way better at sex."

"How is this fair?" a voice interjects from the opposite couch, and Raven lifts her head from the couch to glance back at her friends. Her hair hangs sloppily in her face and her eyes are rimmed with red. "You two get laid, and I just get hungover."

"That's what happens when you take shots with Finn," Clarke clarifies, reaching for the remote on the coffee table.

"I was just trying to keep him distracted," Raven groans, rolling over to lie on her back. "He walked into the kitchen after he saw you and Lexa and I thought it would help get his mind off it."

"Dragging Clarke and Lexa into the kitchen to do shots with the two of you probably didn't help with that," Octavia adds, and Raven groans before rubbing her temples.

"It's the thought that counts, right?"

Lexa had expected the anxiety to settle in when she woke up in the morning. She had anticipated that overwhelming urge to escape the unfamiliar bed and return back to her own bed, to her daily routine. When she had woken up in Clarke's bed this morning and hadn't felt that overpowering compulsion, she thought she'd gotten lucky. She thought maybe it meant she had done the right thing.

But as soon as the door shuts behind her and she finds herself standing on Clarke's front porch alone, the panic catches her off guard and she feels her brain kick into overtime. That voice she had been trying to silence for the last few days finally reprimands her full force, reminding her how reckless and careless she had been, reminding her of the devastating effects this kind of thing could have on her.

Lexa shakes her head, trying to unbalance that voice in her head, but she knows she can't escape it. So she does the only thing she can do and walks to her blue car parked by the curb, climbs inside and turns the music up as loud as it will go, and then drives away.

While she drives home, Lexa busies her mind by focusing on everything that's not the voice in her head telling her that she fucked up. She focuses on the traffic lights and the cars around her, on the position of her hands on the steering wheel, and the chord progression of the song blaring through the speakers. It calms her. It keeps her grounded and keeps her thoughts from wandering.

When her thoughts do wander, it dawns on her that she had never let Anya know where she was last night or that she wouldn't be coming home.

"Fuck," she whispers, reaching for her cell phone in the cup holder. Except that her cell phone isn't in the cup holder, where she usually puts it when she gets in the car. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she says more loudly, searching the pockets of her jeans and her jacket before she concludes that her phone is nowhere to be found.

"How are you going to talk to Clarke?" The disappointment rolls over her at the realization, but that disappointment quickly subsides for that voice telling her that she shouldn't talk to Clarke anyway. Lexa's jaw clenches, the muscles in her neck flexing beneath her skin. She glances at the clock and knows there's no time to go back for the phone. She'll just have to get it after work.

When she pulls into the parking lot of her apartment building, Lexa has approximately twenty minutes to get ready for work and make herself look like a human being again. Piece of cake.

"I thought Typical Lexa wasn't going to be Typical Lexa this time?" Anya calls at her from the couch as Lexa flies through the front door. The brunette rolls her eyes but doesn't stop to talk. She heads straight for her room, already pulling her shirt over her head as she crosses the threshold. Fortunately her uniform is on the floor exactly where she left it, albeit wrinkled and dirty, but she has no other options.

"What time do you work?" Anya appears in the doorway and leans against the frame.

"11," Lexa responds without looking up as she buttons up the front of her shirt.

"So I guess we'll have to talk later about how you ignored my texts and phone calls, and about how you did exactly what you said you weren't going to do," Anya folds her arms across her chest, looking more like a mother than she ever has.

"There's not really anything to talk about," Lexa says as she pulls on the black skinny jeans and buttons them.

"Are you saying you weren't with Clarke last night?" Anya asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Lexa says through tight lips, becoming annoyed and frantic as she glances at the clock. "I'm not saying that."

"So Clarke isn't any different then," Anya says with a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head. Though she has always been protective of Lexa and her heart, Anya had gotten her hopes up that maybe Lexa had found something good. Maybe she had stumbled onto something that would help her end this shameless phase of hooking up. But apparently, Clarke was just another chapter in a very, very long book.

"Anya, don't," Lexa growls, and Anya's taken aback for a second before a knowing grin spreads across her face.

"Oh, I get it," she says smugly, but Lexa doesn't linger to listen. She pulls her coat around her and brushes past Anya without a glance. "You know we're going to talk about it later," Anya continues, following Lexa down the hallway back to the front door.

"Okay, whatever, we'll talk about it later, but I have to go!" Lexa slams the front door shut behind her and Anya stands alone in the kitchen. A satisfied smile still on her face, Anya pulls out her phone and types out a text.

"Raven, your phone is going off."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is. I can hear it vibrating."

Raven still hasn't moved from the couch. The hangover has refused to let go of the young girl, and truthfully, she's kind of a crybaby anyway. Octavia rolls her eyes at the drama queen and relents.

"Fine, I was just trying to be helpful." The girl shrugs.

That's when Raven lifts her head from the pillow for the third time and turns to look at her friends on the loveseat. Then she pulls her hand out from underneath the pillow, her phone wrapped tightly in her hands.

"It's not my phone going off," Raven retorts, showing Octavia the blank screen. Octavia's brow furrows in confusion, and she and Clarke exchange confused glances before they each look at their phone. Octavia's sits on the coffee table in front of them and Clarke's is plugged into a charger and resting on the edge of the loveseat. Neither of them has any notifications.

Then they hear the dull sound of a vibrating phone again, and even Raven looks confused now.

"It's definitely coming from over there," Clarke says, motioning toward the couch that Raven has claimed. "Check the cushions. Maybe someone lost their phone."

"I don't wanna mooooove," Raven whines, but sits up anyway. She plunges her hand between the cushions and the back of the couch and, sure enough, pulls a phone from the depths of the couch.

"Whose is that?" Octavia asks.

"I don't know, but it's blowing the fuck up," Raven says and then glances at the screen. "Text messages from… Anya?"

Octavia and Raven's eyes both fall on Clarke, and then they light up with devilish mischief.

"Oh my god, what do they say?" Octavia asks, jumping from the loveseat to join Raven on the couch.

"Guys, don't," Clarke interjects, but she doesn't exactly try to stop them. "We shouldn't go through her phone."

"You don't have to join us," Raven responds. "But as your best friends, it's our duty to do as much digging as possible, and we just found a gold mine." Octavia nods enthusiastically and they both turn their attention back to the cell phone.

Clarke shakes her head, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't a little curious. The chances that the conversation is about Clarke are slim to none, so what harm could it do? She'd probably just find a boring text reminding Lexa to bring home milk or something. But still, she can't stop the small seedling of guilt that's begun to take root in her stomach as her friends fall silent.

The grins slowly fall from their faces, their expressions becoming more and more grim as the silence passes. Concern blossoms in Clarke's chest, but she tries to seem uninterested. But when Raven looks up at her, the look on her face has Clarke leaping from her seat to the couch.

"What did you find?" Clarke questions, trying to peak at the phone but Octavia has it held closely to her chest. She looks back and forth between her friends, but both of them avoid her eye contact. Octavia caves first.

"It might be nothing," she says, trying to sound reassuring. Clarke finally can't take it anymore and decides to cut the bullshit. She tears the phone from Octavia's grasp, disregarding every instinct telling her that this is wrong, that she shouldn't snoop through Lexa's privacy. She starts reading anyway.

Anya (10:54 am): I know you're working and said we'll talk later, but I can't help myself. I know you, Lex. I know what's going through that twisted head of yours.

Anya (10:55 am): You let your guard down, I get that, but don't start pushing people away again. Don't build the walls back up twice as high just because you think it'll protect you.

Anya (10:57 am): You've been through a lot, and I wish to god I could take all that away, but I can't. But you can't be alone forever. You deserve so much more than that. Clarke could be good for you.

Clarke feels a smile creep onto her face.

Anya (10:58 am): Don't let it scare you. She's not Costia.

Clarke's a little confused at the last text message, but it's the last one that Anya sent. She glances up at her friends and the sullen looks plastered on their faces, and she actually chuckles.

"Come on, guys. That's not so bad. So she's got an ex. Who doesn't?" She says light-heartedly, but Raven and Octavia just shake their heads slowly.

"Scroll up," Raven says without making eye contact. "Read the ones from last night." Clarke's light-hearted demeanor falls away and she turns her attention back to the cell phone and scrolls up to where the conversation started yesterday.

Anya (4:30 pm): Are you gonna be back for dinner tonight?

Anya (4:42 pm): Hellloooo? Lexa?

Anya (5:13 pm): You can't seriously be having sex already?

Anya (5:15 pm): Well, I guess this is you we're talking about.

Anya (5:16 pm): No more one-night stands, remember?

Anya (5:32 pm): LEXA

Anya (6:07 pm): Fine. Do whatever you want.

Lexa (6:09 pm): Omg not having sex, just watching a movie. I'll be home later.

Anya (6:10 pm): Oh. Okay. Good.

Anya (8:42 pm): I just got off the phone with Mom. You should come home. We need to talk.

Anya (9:12 pm): Are you coming home soon?

Anya (10:37 pm): It's getting late. I thought you were coming home?

Anya (10:49 pm): Mom called again. It's not good, Lexa. We need to talk.

Anya (11:29 pm): Costia and Roan are pressing charges.

That's the last text before Anya's texts from today. Clarke reads them over and over again, dissecting each piece of information. Her attention lingers on the mention of one-night stands and, obviously, the pressed charges. After reading the conversation three times, she looks up at her friends who have finally regained the ability to look at her.

"I don't even know what to do with this," Clarke mumbles, holding the phone out like it's a diseased rodent. Octavia takes the phone from her and places a hand on her shoulder.

"Do you know anything about Costia?" Octavia asks, concern imminent in her voice. Clarke shakes her head. They'd only known each other for a few days. She didn't expect to know Lexa's life story already, but she thought something this big would have come up at least once by now.

"It's probably just something stupid," Raven adds, trying to console the girl. "It probably won't even go anywhere."

"What about the 'no more one-night stands' comment?" Clarke asks, looking back at her friends with insecurity swimming in her eyes. "What if this is just what she does? She acts all charming and perfect and then fucks you and that's it."

Clarke can feel her breaths coming faster and shorter. She knows she's letting her emotions get the best of her. She knows it's unreasonable to get upset because, let's be honest, Clarke had participated in more than one one-night stand in the past. But still, both parties had known exactly what that night was and what it wasn't. They both knew what the expectations were. But with Lexa, it felt like more, and the earth-shattering truth that it may have been just a hook-up to Lexa had Clarke's heart aching in a way she hadn't felt in a long time.

"Hey," Octavia says soothingly, draping an arm around the blonde's shoulder and pulling her closer. Raven reaches across Octavia and places a hand on Clarke's knee, and then squeezes it reassuringly. "You don't know that."

"Yeah," Raven adds. "And you heard what Anya said. No more of them. That's not what last night was." Clarke nods. Raven had said the words to comfort her and make her feel better, but truthfully, she's not convinced either. She can already feel a dislike for Lexa edging into her thoughts, her protective nature rearing up.

"Don't get worked up before you have all the facts," Octavia says, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind Clarke's ear. Clarke nods again, focuses on her breathing and heaves a long, drawn out sigh.

"You're right," she says, composed and in control. She pushes her emotional response aside and reasons with logic. Octavia is right. She can't draw any conclusions without all the information. Clarke takes the phone back from Octavia and launches herself from the couch.

"Where are you going?" Octavia calls, but Clarke is already halfway up the stairs to her bedroom.

"If I had to guess, I'd say she's going to get the facts," Raven answers with a shrug.

Octavia had offered to drive Clarke to the restaurant, but Clarke denied the offer. Living so close to campus, Clarke had no need for a car and the public transport system around the college town wasn't the worst. In fact, sometimes she preferred it, like today. Today, she preferred the lengthy bus ride. It gave her time to process, and it gave her time to consider what she wanted to say. It also gave her time to think about every terrible way that this could go, but she didn't allow herself to ponder those for very long.

Forty-five minutes after leaving the house, Clarke finally steps off the bus and into the IHOP parking lot. She spots Kurt parked in the back row and actually feels relieved. At least Lexa hadn't lied about having to go to work today, right? That's a good sign. Right? Clarke tucks her hands into her coat pockets and wraps her fingers around a phone – one in each hand.

One deep breath later, and Clarke starts walking for the front door.

The place is dead. There's one old man sitting in a corner booth, drinking coffee and reading a newspaper, but that's it. Tuesday's must not be good days for pancakes.

Lexa stands behind the front register, talking with one of her co-workers in the kitchen through the window, her back to Clarke. They banter back and forth and Lexa laughs at whatever the man says and then playfully flips him off. Clarke smiles before she can stop herself, but then quickly wipes it from her face. She needs to be cautious. She needs to be smart.

"Hey," Clarke says, her voice absent of any quiver or doubt. She forces herself to hold her head up when Lexa turns around to find Clarke standing in front of her.

"Clarke!" Lexa says her name like it's a breath of fresh air, like she's been waiting to say it since she left. A smile starts to tug at her lips, but then Clarke sees something physically change in her. She watches as she straightens her spine and dawns that stone-like façade. Her eyes never change though. Clarke can still see the excitement shimmering in the hues of green. "What are you doing here?"

Clarke doesn't bother responding. She just pulls her hand out of her pocket and sets the phone down on the counter in front of her. Lexa smiles genuinely even though a part of her doesn't want to. She reaches for the phone and glances back up at the blonde. Any fear or anxiety empties out of her when she finds those blue eyes staring back at her.

"Thanks," Lexa says. "By the time I noticed I'd forgotten it, I didn't have time to come back before work."

"You're welcome. It must've gotten wedged into the couch at some point last night. We only found it because it kept blowing up."

"Really?" Lexa's brow furrows and Clarke thinks it's the most endearing thing she's ever seen, but she stays strong. Logical. She's here for facts, not emotions. Lexa opens the phone and the conversation with Anya pops up. Clarke watches as her eyes trace over each text, and then she feels her heart ache when she sees the color drain from Lexa's face.

Lexa's eyes dart back to Clarke's when she reads the final text. They bounce back and forth between Clarke's eyes, her mouth opening and closing as she tries to find the words. "Clarke, I-"

"It's okay, Lexa." Clarke holds up a hand to stop her from continuing. "I shouldn't have gone through your texts anyway."

"Clarke, please." Lexa stares at the girl, silently begging for her to understand. She can feel the edges of her composure giving way. Words fail her. Hell, a single train of thought fails her. Her brain becomes a tangled mess of Clarke, Costia, and bloody knuckles.

"That's not your phone anymore," Clarke says, breaking Lexa from her thoughts.

"What?" Lexa responds, more confused.

"That's not your phone anymore. It's a ball," Clarke steps closer to the counter and then leans in. "And it's in your court."

And then Clarke leaves without another word more. Lexa watches her go, her brain working frantically to piece together the right sequence of words to make her stop. She watches Clarke through the window, resisting the urge to chase after her and kiss her senseless. What good would it do now? When Clarke boards the next bus, Lexa turns around disappears into the kitchen.

She finds a wall made of stone rather than typical drywall and lays her fist into it with her whole body. One would think she'd only punched a pillow though, because she seems entirely unfazed.

"Fuck," she whimpers after a few seconds pass and the pain settles in. "You idiot," she whispers to herself, examining the damage to her hand. "That's what you got you into this fucking mess."

Lexa turns and leans against the wall, her right hand tucked inside her left. She can already feel it growing hotter and it begins to swell. Lexa starts to slide down the wall until she's sitting on the ground, her knees pulled to her chest. That familiar sense of panic starts to edge into her, like the gentle incoming of high tide. Harmless at first, until suddenly everything's under water.

"No. We're not doing this," she thinks to herself, willing herself to remain calm and composed. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and types out two text messages with her left hand. The first one goes to Clarke.

Lexa (12:34 pm): I can understand why you're upset. I would really like the opportunity to explain everything to you. If you'll have me?

She presses send before allowing herself to think too much about it, and then begins a text to Anya.

Lexa (12:35 pm): What the actual fuck?

Clarke presses her forehead against the window, grateful for the coolness to on the hot bus. Her heart hasn't stopped pounding since she left the restaurant. She's pretty proud of herself, admittedly. She wasn't sure that she would be able to confront Lexa without melting into a puddle in front of the brunette, but she'd held her ground and gotten through it okay.

Still, the panicked look on Lexa's face when she read the conversation on her phone made Clarke's heart ache for the girl. History of one night-stands or not, Clarke knows that Lexa didn't use her for sex. Clarke isn't just another name on a long list of names, and that brought her some kind of comfort in this.

"You okay, Princess?"

Clarke pulls her forehead away from the window and finds an elderly man sitting across the aisle, watching her closely. She smiles politely and nods.

"You don't remember me, do you?" the old man asks, a friendly smile spread across his face. Clarke turns to look at him again, and really looks at him this time, but still draws a blank. "That's okay, I didn't get a chance to introduce myself the last time I saw you."

"I'm sorry?" Clarke asks.

"You're the girl Lexa was drooling over on Sunday," the old man says knowingly. Clarke feels her cheeks flush red and the man smiles at her. "Anyway, I'm Earl."

"It's nice to meet you, Earl," Clarke replies.

"That Lexa, though. She's one of the good ones. Best damn waitress ever, but you know, she cares about people." Clarke smiles while she listens to the man. "Just about the only person who listens to me talk these days."

"I bet you have some great stories," Clarke says, empathy overwhelming her.

"You bet I do!" Earl responds, and then sets into a bit about how his grandkids never want to listen to his stories. Clarke listens and adds her opinion where she should, and asks him questions to keep him talking. But when her phone vibrates against her hand, she struggles to focus on Earl and his story. After a few minutes, her resilience crumbles and she pulls her phone out of her pocket and sees the text from Lexa. She doesn't respond though until Earl finishes his story. He gets off at the next stop, but turns around just before stepping off the bus.

"Hey, what's your name?" he asks.

"Oh, it's Clarke," she responds.

"Clarke. I'm sure I'll be seeing you around," he says with a wink and then leaves. Then Clarke looks at her phone again and types out a response.

Clarke (12:57 pm): Of course. Pick me up after work.