I'm back! Thank you all for being so patient, I apologize for the long wait!
xx

Lexa doesn't get suspicious when Anya gently delivers a plate of fresh pancakes right in front of her – and frankly, she should've, seeing as how Anya is now looking at her expectantly, leaning against the wall.

"Damn, thanks", grins Lexa with a nod towards her sister.

"No problem."

Then they stay motionless, in what becomes a somewhat awkward silence, until Anya finally finds a way to start a conversation. To her defense, Lexa isn't exactly the most talkative individual.

"So, I met your goalie, yesterday. Clarke, is that it?"

"Yes", the answer comes barging out of Lexa – an attempt to end this conversation before it even starts. And then she panics, looks at the pancakes and knows that this was all part of the strategy, but she can't do anything about it except pray silently that this doesn't go any further.

"I like her", pushes Anya with another smile, and Lexa begins to think she's just not very lucky in life.

"Cool."

"Do you?"

Lexa stays abashed, looking blankly at her sister like she's just asked her the mass of the sun.

"Lexa?"

"No."

"Oh, you don't like her?" Anya frowns, confused.

"Yes! No! Pass! I don't like this type of question, it's like there's no good answer!"

"Oh my god Lexa, you've gone soft! Yes! I did my job!"

Anya is jubilating, dancing in the middle of the living room, while Lexa looks like a scared kitten at a party. "I'm not soft, where did you-"

"Don't tell me you don't gaze at her lovingly during games."

"Anya", Lexa bites sharply, giving her the death stare.

"She'd be the first one to actually knock you off your high horse-"

"Shut up-"

"Serve you some humble pie-"

"Cut it off!" Lexa raises her voice abruptly – she's had enough.

She can tell she's disappointed Anya, with the way her gaze lowers and darkens, lost in deep thoughts. "Alright, I'm sorry. Guess I got overexcited."

"You did."

Anya breathes in, turns around only to flop down on the couch, discouraged. "God, Lexa, the things you're missing."

"I'm not missing anything", she counters aggressively, plucking a piece of pancake from the plate and plunging it into her mouth.

"I just think you've never thought about the possibilities", Anya brushes it off, still out of Lexa's eyesight.

"There are no possibilities."

"You're just scared of them."

"I can't be scared of something that doesn't exist."

"Yet."

"Goddamnit Anya, don't you have a kid to take care of?"

She gets a glimpse of her sister's head popping over the cushion of the couch, and she looks amused if not annoyed. "Oh, he's fine, playing in his room like a big boy, while you are acting like a child!"

Lexa's head shoots backwards in frustration. "I'm not acting like a child, I'm just being realistic!"

"She is such a nice girl!"

"Exactly!"

"She is!" Anya yells, then her insistent expression turns into a mainly confused one. "Wait, what?"

Lexa rolls her eyes, angry that she has to put some effort and explain her thoughts. "She's… She's just not for me, alright? I'm not committed to these things."

"Oh, please, Lexa, she says hi and you giggle."

"Could you not?!"

"Sorry, go ahead."

Lexa pauses, examining her sister apprehensively, then gives a curt nod of acceptance. "I'm done running after the pretty girl."

"You did it like once, Lexa."

"And I didn't like it, so there you go!"

After a short silence, Anya continues. "Don't you think you'll get attached anyway?"

"I won't", Lexa affirms assertively, and her mind is telling the truth, but her heart knows that she can never, ever, try something with Griffin, or else things will get dangerous.

"How could you be satisfied with this? Lexa, you're my baby sis and I love you so much but if you don't let people in, chances are, you'll break!"

Lexa quickly turns around to fully face her sister, shoulders dropping and gaze gloomy. "What makes you say that?"

She thinks she might've put too much bite in her tone, for Anya is now standing in front of the TV, looking defenseless, exposed. "You're too strong, Lexa. You've been carrying teams and carrying me and carrying yourself, and when you get home, you're not happy anymore – I see it. And I'm the only one left for you in this family. It scares me so damn much, because I don't think I could pull you back together again-"

"But you won't have to!" Lexa shouts, getting up also, but to leave the room, this time.

"Stop looking for the easy way out!" The older sister orders, coming forward to block the way. Then, softer. "Look at me, Lexa."

When she doesn't obey, Anya repeats – a bit firmer, but still indulgently. "Look at me."

"What?" The hockey player's eyes snap upward, nestle deeply into Anya's.

"Are you happy, Lexa?"

"Stop."

"Lexa."

"Not always, alright?" She blurts, unsure if it's Anya's seriousness that broke her walls or just the pressure she's been putting on herself lately. "But I mean, people aren't happy all the time!"

"Do you like her?" Anya asks bluntly, not skipping a beat.

Yes, Lexa thinks, then panics, not only because the answer scares her, but also because the rapidity with which her brain conjured it is unsettling.

Because she used to hate Clarke, and that's a fact – just like the mere thought of her bringing a smile to Lexa's face is also a fact. And this lightness that spreads in the pit of her stomach whenever she gets a glimpse of the blonde goalie, and how she loses her words simply because Clarke is in the room with her, and the pure joy of watching her make these unbelievable saves, and the pride of having such an amazing player in her team…

"If I say I like her, you'll start planning a marriage", Lexa enounces plainly, rubbing her face annoyedly.

"You like her!"

"That's not true!"

But it's too late, now – Anya's already convinced. "Ask her on a date! Bring her flowers!"

"I don't wanna date anyone!"

Anya laughs, rubbing at her brow with both hands. "Okay, then, you don't have to. Is that better?"

"Not really", huffs Lexa grumpily, "because you're still suggesting it strongly."

"I can't force you to do anything, Lex."
The hockey player pauses, pensively contemplating the issue. "Alright, then… I'll be lifting downstairs."

And she could've gotten away with it just fine if Anya didn't say anything else. Only, she did. "Does Clarke work out often?"

It resonates in the room – Lexa doesn't reply.

For the next few days, she can't stop thinking about the damn question.

It starts snowing early in the morning, and from the look of it (and the size of the snowflakes) it won't stop anytime soon.

Clarke gets to the arena after a whole ten minutes of de-icing – whether it be her car or her driveway, and half of the team is already complaining about the climate (while the other half only cares about making a snowman). In fact, when Clarke enters the locker room, Raven is tirelessly explaining to a confused Lexa why this type of snow is clearly 'construction material'.

"Do not tell me that you will wait this one out! It's clearly the sticky one!" She yells at Lexa, who's still trying to properly grasp the topic.

"There's a difference?" She tries, wincing slightly at Raven's cry of exasperation.

"Well of course there is! This one sticks together! The other is all powdery and doesn't do shit! Oh my god, did you even have a childhood?"

"I did! I just didn't like playing in the snow that much!" The center defends herself, sullen and frowning.

"What-" Raven starts, but has to repeat her sentence again because Charlie Langton is gasping loudly at the declaration. "What the fuck is wrong with this kid? What did you do then, Lexa, huh, what did you do? Play Pokemon?"

"As a matter of fact, I did."

"That is the least you could do! Just say you didn't take Bulbasaur."

"I took Charmander", Lexa affirms, nodding solemnly.

"Oh, thank God", Raven murmurs as she leans dramatically on Charlie's shoulder like a flustered lady in the 1800s. "What about you, Griffin?"

Clarke's eyes shoot upwards, meeting her friend's. "Me? Oh, I took Squirtle."

"Traitor", Charlie grumbles. "I suppose you like Mudkip as well? Fuck that, it's Torchik for the win."

The goalie starts slipping into gear, pulling her chest protector over her head and adjusting it mechanically as she's done it a hundred times. "Torchik is cute, I agree, but what's up with Blaziken? I mean, he's got hair, he's got little poofy feet, but what is he? A chicken?"

"I think he's more of an eagle, actually", Lexa shrugs off, choosing a stick from the rack on the wall, where they're all lined up in an orderly fashion.

"Oh, he is not. He's a weird ass chicken, I'm telling you", Clarke barks from the other side of the room, halfway through tying her first skate.

Lexa scoffs, amused. "He's got giant fucking claws, I don't think chicken have any of those."

"His name ends in -icken! Coincidence? I think not!"

Raven stands ups, apparently eager to leave the room. "Great, now that we've fed you enough material to start having one of your many pointless arguments…"

Lexa rolls her eyes, sticking out her tongue at the defenseman who's already out the door, followed closely by Charlie Langton. "It's called putting some life into the room!" She yells, but they're probably too far away to hear her.

"I'm surprised your previous teammates didn't stuff socks in your mouth", Clarke chants singsongingly, securing her pads on with the click of a buckle.

"Where did you get the idea, Griffin? Have you, by any chance, been inflicted a similar punishment?" Lexa grins widely.

Clarke's head is thrown aback in both frustration and amusement. "Keep running your mouth, we'll see who's laughing when I rob you this afternoon."

"Shit, I'm all scared now", mocks Lexa, still smiling arrogantly. "Don't worry, I'll clean the pucks out of your net when I'm done."

That makes Clarke jump on her feet and advance menacingly towards her captain. "You either get the fuck out or you get my stick up your ass."

Lexa tries not to chuckle and points the paddle in Clarke's hand. "This is way too big to fit in my butt."

"Wanna bet?"

And seeing Clarke's deadpan look, she loses her grin and replaces it with a slightly worried one. "You know what? No."

The remaining players of the team cheer and whistle as the goalie and the captain leave the room, the sound of their still vivid bickering immediately filling the hall.

"No quick release, Woods, we've talked about this."

Reeve is circling the faceoff spot near the net, tapping her stick on the ice in mild frustration. "Look for the options when you're up there! They're not peewees, they'll make these saves!"

Clarke pulls her mask up and casually leans on the frame of the goal.

"I want Langton on your left, today, she's showed me what she can bring."

Charlie jumps on the ice eagerly as Lucy Marks makes her way to the bench.

Reeve settles on the blue line to watch the play. "Funnel. Don't leave your spot this time, I want the tic-tac-toe – make it happen."

They spend some time moving the puck and organizing, while Raven, Octavia, Briggs and Wayne are working on coverage. Lexa tries a screen shot, but her aim is off – the puck deviates on a stick, then disappears in the stands.

"My bad", apologizes Lexa, but she can see Reeve has had enough.

"Did you see Hurd?" the coach asks drily.

"Yes", admits Lexa.

"Where was she?"

"In the enclave."

"And where were you?" Reeve urges, arms crossed.

Lexa scratches the back of her neck – she's uncomfortable. "At the front."

Reeve skates forward until they're less than a meter apart. "You had the perfect pass, Woods."

"I still had a shot", counters Lexa, a bit more aggressive.

"Woods-"

"Yes, coach?"

"Please don't talk back."

"I'm just stating the obvious", Lexa bites, drawing closer as well, and she squares her shoulders like she's preparing for a confrontation.

Reeve sighs and lets out a dry laugh. "Alright, then I'll state the obvious as well."

The coach looks around to calm herself down, and Clarke realises just then that she'd been holding her breath. "You're a star, Woods. I get it. But you're in my team now, I don't care what Trikru has been telling you, if he's been saying that you can do what you want or anything like that – because now, you don't just shoot all the time. You give it to your mates when they're better positioned. And guess what? You'll get an assist, and that still puts you on the board. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am", nods Lexa, but despite her obedience, Clarke sees her jaw tense, her gaze burn – her ego's taken a big hit.

Two months ago, Clarke wouldn't've felt for her. Hell, she probably would've been glad someone put her in her place.

But now, she sees past Lexa's attitude and arrogant grins. She sees her drop her shoulders, look down when she's at the bench, evade Reeve's gaze like a scared animal. She sees her break character for the smallest instant, and immediately understands that Lexa Woods is not a soldier – she just plays the part very well.

When practice ends, Reeve still seems a bit on edge, and Clarke can't help but give her a few words. "She's still young, she has time to learn."

"It's not a mistake, it's in her personality, Griffin. Some people are like that."

"I know, but just give her a chance, will you?" Clarke offers, a bit more hopeful.

"I've given her plenty of chances. She's gotta earn them now."

"I think she's earned them last week when she scored a hat trick in Polis."

The coach stops in her tracks, pivots to face Clarke. "So she puts on a show. Great! Now she's gotta respect the organisation as well."

"I'm sure she respects it", Clarke affirms calmly. "She's just not used to being a playmaker, is all."

"The center is the playmaker, Clarke. If she wants to score that much, she'll have to play wing."

That's enough, Clarke thinks, and she shakes her head in disbelief. "Coach, with all due respect – you don't have to do this."

"Oh, but I do. In fact, I think it's an excellent idea."

"It would humiliate her."

"It would make her understand."

Clarke pauses to think, then acts on instinct. "Permission to speak freely, coach?"

"Go ahead."

"Of all the options you have, this is the absolute worst one."

"Why is that?" asks Reeve, unable to mask her bewilderment.

"Because she's the best offense you've had in your whole career, and to put her on wing would not only diminish her, but it would also play in her head, make her question herself – and we don't want that."

Her words definitely leave a trace, and Reeve seems caught off balance. "Then what do we want, Griffin?"

And Clarke knows she's won, at that point, with the incertitude in the coach's expression, and the pure trust her tone held.

She closes her eyes, picturing it almost perfectly. What do we want, Griffin?

"The cup."

As Lexa settles on the bench and starts removing her equipment, she can't help her gaze from settling on Clarke.

The goalie is fixing her hair into a bun and wiping the sweat off her face with a towel, all of it in a casual fashion and while laughing at Charlie's imitation of a drunk Raven.

"I'm sure the offense is better than before, however, I don't know if Wilkins is on a good streak this year", says Clarke, talking about the Dune Demons' goalie.

Lauren shrugs as she's crossing the room to borrow tape from a teammate. "She's on her knees often, but she's taller than you."

"I think this might be her year", the blonde murmurs, thoughtful.

Lexa jumps on the occasion. "I think this might be your year, Griffin."

She watches as a half-teasing, half-joyful smile appears on the goalie's face. "Oh, was I that bad last season?"

It takes little to no time for Lexa's eyes to widen in surprise and embarrassment, and she knows Griffin enjoys watching her struggle to find her words. "No! I mean, I didn't see you play that much, but I guess not...?"

She notices how the whole team is now staring at her – Charlie shaking her head from side to side, Raven laughing quietly while partially hiding her face with a hand.

"Ouch", laughs Clarke. "Is that one of your numerous attempts at telling me that you scored on me a lot last year?"

"That's not what I meant! Besides, we weren't in the same conference, so we didn't play you a lot", Lexa grunts, crossing her arms with a petulant pout.

Clarke stands up, shakes the soreness in her legs and rolls the sleeves of her compression shirt. "I remember you failing to deke me in shootouts two years ago, and hitting your stick on the board on your way to the bench."

"I was hot tempered, alright?" the center counter strikes, on edge.

"Were?"

"I mellowed down, I swear!"

"God, then you must've been insane!" Clarke barks back, amused.

At that, Lexa smiles despite herself, and rolls her eyes. She's starting to get used to the teasing, and she wonders if it's the same for Clarke, although she's noticed how some of the jokes she says don't anger her as much as before. A while ago, everything she said was badly received, whether it be good or bad - because Clarke was weary and she didn't know how to interpret any of Lexa's signals. Now, she can get away with pretty much anything (except for the one or two times she took the joke too far and had to deal with a silent Clarke all evening).

"Alright, I'm off early, fellas – see if I can fit a quick workout before noon", Clarke announces, picking up her bag and leaving the room.

And Lexa would've been just fine if only she didn't isolate the word workout in the sentence, and if only her brain didn't start repeating another sentence, this time one of Anya's: does Clarke workout often?

Now, she knows that she indeed works out by herself, not just at the arena. She feels a rush of adrenalin fill her whole body as she gets up and follows the goalie out the room and into the hall, only to call her out using all the courage she can muster. "You workout, Griffin?"

The blonde turns around and gives her a weird look – arched brow, questioning gaze, like she's just said something ridiculous. "I'm a professional athlete."

"I know, I mean, work out as in… Gym stuff. At home. Or anywhere, really. Just… Not in the arena all the time."

"Eh, most of us do that."

"Well, I thought you were more the jogging type", shrugs Lexa, trying to establish some credibility in her words.

Clarke scratches her elbow awkwardly. "I am, actually."

"But you still lift."

"I don't just lift."

Lexa can't hold back the little laugh of incredulity that escapes her throat. "Well then, what do you do?"

"Oh, there are many things to do other than lift", Clarke defends herself, a tad offended.

"Enlighten me."

"There are, I swear! I do box jumps, I do pistols… All sorts of things."

Lexa crosses her arms over her chest, and she unconsciously squeezes her hands against her triceps, bulking them in the process. "So, you're the bodyweight type?"

"Yes, is there something wrong with that?" Asks Clarke defiantly.

"No… But I mean, it's incomparable to the brute force you get from lifting."

"Is that so? Or are you just scared you can't squat more than me?"

Lexa's jaw drops open and she scoffs arrogantly. "To say such a thing is a declaration of war, Griffin."

"Then be it."

"I like competitiveness, but right now you're just being foolish", Lexa brags, arms still crossed.

"What time and where?" Clarke asks nonetheless, pressuring Lexa into an exhilarating type of discomfort.

"Two o'clock, my place", the center coolly replies, but she'd never admit that she's feeling fuzzy and unsteady inside.

"Deal."

And before she can say anything else, Clarke is already turning around and accelerating towards the door.

She avoids Anya all morning after being taunted the night before about Clarke coming to their basement gym. She tried her best to make it seems like it wasn't that big of a deal, but Anya's questions caught her off guard (as usual). "Are you gonna go for your usual 'sports bra and no shirt' outfit to showcase your abs?"

She was in the bathroom at that time, brushing her teeth and throwing on an old college hockey shirt, when Anya's remark made her jump in surprise and swallow a bit of toothpaste. "No… No, I am definitely not going to do that."

"Well, you never wear a t-shirt when you work out, I thought that'd be a good strategy, you know. The whole showing off game."

"I'm not showing off, An, I'm working out with a friend."

She heard Anya struggle to retain a chuckle. "A friend who is totally your type, but there's no need to mention that."

Lexa practically kicked the door open and bumped into a grinning Anya who watched as she strutted angrily around the room to find her socks.

"I'm trying very hard not to kick your ass, right now, thought I'd let you know", Lexa grunted between her teeth as she absentmindedly grabbed two socks, regardless of whether they matched or not.

"I do appreciate the effort, which makes me willing to drop my tendencies."

Lexa stopped on her way back to the bathroom, suddenly suspicious. "What tendencies?"

"You know, the inappropriate comments. The whole 'fun fact, Lexa used to run around naked in the kitchen when she was five."

"I don't know if I should be concerned about you making up all these random stories just to get back at me", Lexa rubbed the bridge of her nose with two fingers.

Anya jumped on the mattress and started advancing towards Lexa with her knees. "Hey, I didn't make this up! Remember, you were screaming 'this is America!' And then you hid under the table the moment mom grew upset!"

Lexa's eyes enlarged when she understood the potency of this story and how devastating it could be for her reputation. "Oh, don't you dare!"

"Only if necessary! That means you guys can't have sex on the carpet downstairs!"

"Jesus Christ, Anya!"

"I knew it! This carpet has lived through unspeakable things!" Anya gasped comically, except she really was horrified.

"That's not-" Lexa started, but she was immediately interrupted.

"No details, please!" the older sisters begged, making a run for the door with both hands on her ears.

Which now leaves us to the actual moment of Lexa hearing the doorbell and praying that her sister doesn't answer. It appears today is not her lucky day.

At all.

It's probably one forty-five – a bit early, and Lexa is halfway down the first set of stairs when she hears the door opening and freezes mid jump, supporting herself almost entirely on the handrails.

She hears Anya's voice resonate from ground floor. "Oh, please come in! She should be here any minute, now, I think I just heard her run down the stairs, though I don't hear her at all, right now. Are you alright, Lexa?"

"I'm fine!" the hockey player yells, emerging from the living room and coming face to face with Clarke, and it seems she forgot how intimidatingly gorgeous the goalie can be, for she blinks twice and settles in the middle of the room, not knowing what to say.

"I thought your excitement made you fall down the stairs", Anya smiles, and Lexa's jaw tenses immediately, because for fuck's sake, can't Anya be serious and supportive for a moment?

As Clarke snorts in laughter, Lexa beckons her to follow, desperate to escape Anya. They get across the living room first, then the study and the dining room until they reach the stairs that lead to the basement.

"What is this, some kind of manor?" Clarke marvels as they walk past a gigantic fireplace facing an equally impressive library.

"Eh, more or less", Lexa replies in a disinterested tone that contrasts with Clarke's.

"I thought you lived at your parents' house?"

"Except that is my parents' house", the brunette enunciates clearly with emphasis on each syllable.

"Oh… What do they do for a living?"

"Stockbrokers, both of them", Lexa replies as she opens a modest wooden door and invites Clarke to enter.

"Nice. So that's the gym, then?"

"Yep. It's been refurnished. Changed a couple of things, moved stuff around. Used to be in the garage when we got here, but we realised it's cold as fuck."

"Not the winter type?" Clarke teases, brushing a hand on the handles of the assault bike.

"Hate it. What about you?"

"I pretty much live for snowball fights, so there's that. AND I make unbelievable snow forts."

Lexa can't help the crooked smile from appearing on her face as she unveils an impressive sound system from under a blanket. "So you were that one weird kid who got way too serious about a game, then? Did anybody get injured?"

Clarke has a moment of silence in which she seems to consider her options. "Actually, um, there was this chick I hit with a snowman."

Lexa pulls out a genuinely shocked face. "What the fuck? You hit her with a snowman?"

"More like part of it, I think. But it was small, alright? I was out of ammo, I just took off the head and it happened!"

"Ammo? This isn't bloody war, Clarke, it's throwing solidified water at people!"

"I was ten! Now, would you pick up weights and do your thing?"

After a little grumbling, Lexa complies and starts loading a barbell. "I'll clean and jerk the fuck out of you anyway, Griffin."

The blonde shoots her an annoyed glance. "Do not use my name and the word 'jerk' in the same sentence."

"I thought the word 'fuck' would've been the deal breaker, I'm surprised."

The rapidity at which Clarke turns on her heels is alluring. "Lift the fucking thing, you perv."

Which Lexa does, after muttering an almost inaudible 'got away with it' followed by a shy cough.

The bar is propelled upward and the effort tears a huff out of the hockey player.

She's got good form – it looks like she's done the exercise a thousand times. In a surprisingly smooth motion, she raises the bar and holds it up before letting it hit the ground in a crushing thud. "Why are you looking at me like that?" The brunette asks, crossing her arms and being way too conscious about the action making her biceps seem twice as big.

Clarke scoffs, falsely insulted. "Like what?"

"Like you're, I don't know, shopping in a supermarket and you're very hungry, and then you're walking into the meat alley and you see this nice steak."

"No, no. No." Clarke is suddenly moving around the room like she's trapped in some sort of cage.

"Well it was that or the 'see something you like' kind of crap! You can't blame me!" Lexa defends herself playfully, already preparing to lift the barbell another time.

"Oh, but I can. In fact, I'll do just that." Clarke begins, advancing menacingly towards Lexa who recoils a bit.

"All while lifting the fuck out of you", the goalie finishes tartly, not giving an inch.

Lexa just smiles.

It's probably three when they start experiencing their first signs of fatigue. By the time it's Clarke's turn at the Keiser, Lexa is huffing and puffing about the room, pouring water directly on her face like she does in between periods. "Alright, Griffin, finish up if you wanna beat my time on the rower."

"Oh, I wouldn't miss that, trust me", the other woman replies from the other side of the room.

There would've been a minute of complete silence if only the sound of breathing coupled with that of the keiser's strings didn't fill the room like a tempest.

"Are you arms okay?"

Clarke's head turns as she drops the handles, all of which results in a loud scraping noise. "Yes, they're okay, Lexa. You do know I actually use my arms while doing my job, right? They're not just a decoration – one of them holds a stick, the other wears a glove. And together they go on an adventure, and they stop the pucks, they do all sorts of cute things such as that, and…"

"Oh, pardon me for worrying about you going fucking berserk on that thing! Geez, Griffin, take a deep breath."

The blonde goalie lets the machine go in order to face Lexa properly. "Oh. Oh. I just thought…"

Lexa interrupts her, brushes it away sarcastically. "You thought I was still not over the whole superiority bullshit and my obsession with being better than people? I'm fine, thank you for asking."

"Well dammit, right when I thought you were out of the jackass mode. Here we go again." Clarke grumbles, picking up her towel angrily.

"How many times will I have to tell you, there is no such thing as 'jackass mode', that is who I am 24/7."

"Oh, you poor thing - rough exterior, jell-o insides!" Clarke barks back, half amused, half annoyed.

She watches Lexa's furious expression unfold with a satisfied glint in the eye. "Alright Griffin, I've had enough of this crap."

"Yeah, well me too", Clarke replies, faking indifference and grabbing her bag.

Lexa's angriness suddenly turns into something else, something Clarke can't pinpoint with exactitude. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Leaving, is what I'm doing."

She's already at the door, but then she stops and turns toward Lexa once again. She's held by something strange, something that crawls up her guts and digs deep inside, something that could be, could be initiated by Lexa's furious expression, Lexa's clenching muscles and tense body, Lexa's wet tank top that reveals the hint of her abs, Lexa who is right there, right there.

"That's the coward's way out, Griffin."

"I wasn't aware that there were other ways out." The blonde counters sharply.

She approaches Lexa until they're less than a meter apart. The proximity changes the mood a bit, Clarke's breath accelerates all by itself.

"I could find some", the taller woman assures teasingly, and fuck, that jaw again.

"You are one arrogant asshole", Clarke remarks with an arched brow.

"I'd like to think I'm a smooth asshole, as well." Lexa chuckles, and Clarke is dizzy all of a sudden, consumed by that something again, that something that could be all kinds of scary things.

"Shut up, I don't wanna hear your pickup lines."

"These aren't pickup lines, these are… prelims, I'd say."

"Oh my god, you're not improving your situation right now."

"Could I improve the situation?"

"Depends on what you mean by 'improving the-" Clarke starts, but she is stopped right away when the distance between them is reduced again, this time because of Lexa.

She realizes how close they are when she notices a bead of sweat sliding down Lexa's temple. She gulps down the remains of saliva she manages to gather, and then her throat is dry and she's breathing in Lexa's perfume unintentionally at first, but she finds herself taking a deeper breath the second time just to smell that perfume again, and that makes her even dizzier (if possible).

Goddamnit.

"I don't see the improvement", Clarke lies, conscious about Lexa spotting that lie, also conscious about Lexa finding that lie amusing and smiling because of it and maybe that was the plan?

"That's not the best I can do."

Clarke's heart almost skips a beat, and as she's saying her next sentence, she knows what it involves, yet says it all the same. She likes to think Lexa's charming, almost magnetic stare gave her no choice. "Prove it."

Lexa manages to utter a muffled "fine" that Clarke doesn't quite hear and then she brutally takes her by both thighs and swings her in her arms.

Clarke reacts instinctively and lowers her head, Lexa reacts instinctively and raises hers and that makes for a kiss - probably the messiest, sloppiest, dirtiest kiss Clarke has ever experienced in her entire life.

"I think you have a point", Clarke huffs deeply as Lexa brings her down momentarily, only to push her against the wall.

"I think so too", the brunette agrees, her voice turning almost feral with arousal.

Clarke initiates the kiss, this time. It's rhythmic, involving a complex pattern of licking and pulling on the lower lip, as well as gently introducing her tongue in Lexa's mouth who cannot hold back the loud sigh that escapes, vibrating though Clarke's whole body thereby. From a distance, it looks like they're fighting.

To some extent, they are.

It feels to Clarke as if a tension is leaving her body – all those months of lying to herself, of biting her lip and retaining her emotions, months of deprivation, months of avoidance, months of trying and failing to deviate and repress the burning sensation in her stomach every time Lexa so much as entered a room.

She hopes it's the same for her as well, but as she watches desire and need unfold on Lexa's features, she begins to think they were both frantic, both desperate.

They were ticking bombs waiting to explode, weren't they? And as Clarke begins to carelessly tug at the hem of Lexa's top, she is now fairly certain that this – whatever this is – was bound to happen.

"Hold on, that is some Nike special edition apparel", Lexa chuckles against Clarke's lips as she backs away to remove the garment properly.

"Shut up", complains Clarke, but her tone loses it's cutting edge as soon as she feels Lexa's skin pressed up against her. She fears her knees might give up any minute now.

"You like that?"

It seems Lexa might've learned to read her pretty well, for she's now back to her smug, self-assured demeanor. Clarke does not find it sexy.

She does not.

Always confident about her abilities, Lexa doesn't hesitate and puts her hands right where they are needed - on Clarke's hips and rear end, that is - all while nipping at her neck. She hits the sensitive spot, right below the ear, and takes some liberties once she notices Clarke's almost outrageous response to it.

A mixture of adrenalin and ecstasy surges through Clarke's whole body, in waves, and when Lexa outright grinds against her hips in search of friction, her knees immediately buckle.

"Fuck", she mutters, vainly gripping at the wall for support.

"That is what I'm doing at the moment", Lexa replies teasingly, then releases a muffled groan after Clarke knees her in the stomach.

The air turns almost toxic as Lexa twirls her fingers in blonde locks and, grabbing hard at them, pushes Clarke's head downwards to force their lips together in a brutal, wet, open mouthed kiss. Clarke releases a sigh into her mouth, loses her balance and gives in to the hockey center's hold, letting a hand wander along her thigh.

"I think I hate you", the blonde mumbles without conviction, her lips already swollen with all the kissing.

"Yeah?" Asks Lexa, but she's not entirely paying attention (and Clarke doesn't take offense).

"Yeah", Clarke repeats, and the more she says it, the falser it sounds.

Tension builds and escalates up to the ceiling, and only then are the two women left to shambles of searing lust and incontrollable feats of passion. By the time they're both half naked and still very much pressed up against the wall, the familiar rattling of keys in a door is overlooked. Clarke brushes her fingers up Lexa's toned abs and reaches for her sports bra, revelling at the moan that escapes the taller woman's lips.

And only then does it all come to an abrupt end.

"HI! WE'RE BACK!"

Clarke's head jerks backwards and bumps against the wall in a thud – Lexa's first reaction is one of concern over the small incident. "Shit, are you okay?"

Then, with a hint of annoyance. "That's great, Anya! Really… Really great!"

"WE BROUGHT MUFFINS, ISN'T THAT AWESOME?" The voice yells again from ground floor.

"It's wonderful!" Lexa replies, rolling her eyes.

"YOU GUYS WANT SOME?"

"Sure!" Clarke and Lexa both reply in unison.

The two hockey players share a glance of uncertainty – both realising how disheveled and unbridled they look. "I don't think we can come out of this room without attracting suspicion", Clarke points out, quick at putting her clothes back on.

"Especially with my sister", concedes Lexa with a side glance towards the door.

Leaving no room for awkward silence, Clarke grabs her bag and shrugs. "It's fine, I was about to head out anyway."

Lexa has a nod of polite agreement (but really she's just searching for an excuse to keep Clarke from leaving). "You don't want, hum…" She snaps her fingers to cover the missing word.

"A muffin?" Clarke fills in with an amused half smile.

"Yeah?"

"It's fine, I'll grab one on my way."

She gestures towards the door for further explanation.

"Alright, then", says Lexa with a shy smile (yes, shy).

And when she sees Clarke's hand closing around the doorknob, she adds hastily:

"Take care."

For a second, Clarke doesn't seem to react, but then she spins on her heels to face Lexa one more time. She's still smiling.

Hard.

"Okay, that's adorable", the goalie chuckles, shaking her head from side to side in apparent disbelief.

"It's…" Lexa begins, then just scoffs.

"Wow, you're not fighting it", pursues Clarke in the same teasing tone.

Lexa crosses her arms, suddenly very defensive. "I didn't say… What does that mean, I'm not fighting it? Of course I'm fighting it!"

"You are so not. We got past that point of mutual tolerance where I could refer to you as, say, a bear cub…"

She pauses and sustains Lexa's gaze in search of possible anger, but all she finds is annoyance. Annoyance.

"What did I say about small furry animals?" The hockey center whines, raising her arms in the air.

"Oh my god, I got away with that!" Clarke yells happily, opening the door wide and waving goodbye childishly.

"Clarke, I am…" Lexa begins, but she is cut off by the sound of the door closing and Clarke's demonical laughter echoing as she's climbing up the stairs.

"Not done", she mutters to herself in the quiet of the room.

Yup, so I wrote that. And I hope you liked it. Let's say Clarke and Lexa's messy adventure through the feels universe has just begun.