Content Warning: Brief mention of child abuse and transphobia
Tuesday Morning, May 31st (Waynesboro, VA)
Perhaps it had been a bit of a pipe dream, but Anya had hoped that after sharing her history, her anxiety and worries for the trip would be over and done with. As she sat in the restaurant they'd just had lunch in, surrounded by a healthy crowd of people, all by herself, knowing they were en route to meet Clarke's mother for an extended stay, and with Clarke herself seeming antsy to get to their destination all morning, Anya was officially anxious.
She was pretty sure everyone else could sense it. Raven kept shooting her encouraging expressions, Octavia would find an excuse to run a hand down her arm here or there, and Clarke, while slightly hesitant, had been trying to be affectionate all morning long. Anya knew some of it was probably because Clarke was an affectionate person to start with, and the woman had laid out her intentions pretty clearly the previous night, but there was just something about the other blonde.
Anya had woken up early and got caught up in her own mind, but a sleepy Clarke's nose nuzzling against her cheek, a thick voice fresh from slumber telling her it'd be a good day, that had helped. Clarke reaching out to hold her hand nearly every time she got too lost in her worries about the visit to D.C., and certainly every time her breathing hastened, that was also soothing. Clarke picking the most secluded table for them to eat lunch at also helped.
But as much as she enjoyed all the help, they were quick fixes atop an issue that still posed a threat. They'd be spending one and a half days at Clarke's mom's home. And for whatever it was worth, Clarke kept trying to get away, phone in hand, and something told her the younger blonde was trying to get a hold of Lexa. She'd sent Lexa a few texts, warning her to avoid Clarke's calls for a bit to let the woman calm down.
Hopefully, Clarke going home would help her relax, and would ease Anya's anxiety, but she wasn't so certain either of those things would happen given the huge number of unknowns going into it all.
It could be a disaster...I could be a disaster...Anya mused to herself, slumping forward on her elbows against the table. I just need to focus...maybe tonight or tomorrow night, we'll be able to eat some time with the role-playing Clarke wanted to do. But...that leaves a lot of time to...
Clarke plopping down in the seat beside her tore Anya from her thoughts, her gaze shifting to catch the younger blonde smiling brightly at her. "O and Raven are taking a quick trip to fill up on gas and grab a few things I know my mom won't have stocked at home."
Anya nodded slowly, realizing she'd have some time alone with Clarke. "Can we head outside?"
Clarke nodded quickly and got to her feet. When the younger blonde offered her hand, Anya took it, even though the restaurant wasn't so packed that she couldn't weave through it without difficulty. Clarke's hand was soft, her hold gentle but steady.
Even though it was the tiniest thing, it helped drown out the crowds around them, and when they emerged out onto the streets of Waynesboro, she found herself not even needing to regulate her breathing. When Clarke led her down the street to a nearby park, it was even more of a relief, letting her plop down underneath a nicely full tree, giving her a reprieve from the harsh sun.
"You've seemed a little tense all morning." Clarke noted after a few minutes of silence, the both of them side by side, resting against the tree. "Anything I can help with?"
There was so much that Anya could bring up, but nothing felt too tremendously easy to discuss. Still, one option was easier, and perhaps getting it off her chest and clearing the air would make the others a little easier to tackle.
"You could stop trying to call Lexa. She's done nothing to deserve your anger." Anya stated simply, unsurprised at the harsh scoff and bugged out eyes of her newest friend.
"She outed you twice! To sexist homophobic transphobes! Twice!" Clarke insisted, clearly trying to reel back her emotions, but it didn't change how vehement the younger woman sounded about it all.
"Yes, and that all happened before you ever met Lexa. If anyone was the wounded party, it's me. And though I've told her many times that she's forgiven and has nothing to make up for, Lexa insists that her debt will never be paid." Anya stated firmly, holding Clarke's gaze as it faltered slightly. "There is nothing you could tell Lexa that she doesn't tell herself on a regular basis, and particularly any time I'm around, so leave her be, Clarke. At least until after her wedding. Please do this for me."
Clarke was proving herself to be stubborn, the woman's expression shifting and conflicted, practically letting Anya witness the gears turning in her head. "Anya, I just want to protect you."
"The past is the past, I don't need protection from what I've already faced. But I could use support for what lies ahead." Anya retorted, taking a hard swallow and flitting her gaze to follow a songbird's path into a nearby tree. "What if your mother doesn't approve of me? What if I make a bad impression and upset her?"
Anya wasn't sure what she expected, but it wasn't Clarke breaking out into laughter, nearly slumping over onto her side from it. It all made Anya feel foolish, because clearly she'd missed something along the way. She racked her brain to figure out what it could be, but Clarke's mother hadn't come up often, so there wasn't much to go over.
Which, in turn, had her feeling even worse.
Something Clarke seemed to eventually notice, her laughter cutting off in an instant as an arm slung across her shoulders. "Hey, hey, it'll be alright. I promise mom will adore you."
"You can't promise such a thing, Clarke." Anya shot back, too far gone into her own doubts to know she was being objective, but Clarke couldn't know. Mrs Griffin had never met her before.
"I can. Raven and Octavia are going to stroll in yelling and calling for food, and they'll raid the kitchen, and my mom's going to come rushing in from the garden, all annoyed, even if she loves them. And then she's going to see you...Anya, you have manners. You're polite, and kind. And you'll be teaching me how to dance. My mom's going to be over the moon." Clarke reasoned, and after a few seconds of deep thought, perhaps there could be some solid logic in that. In comparison to Raven and Octavia, she probably would seem to be well-behaved. If Clarke's mother's standards were that low, then there was a chance it wouldn't be a catastrophe.
Still, she couldn't help but feel nervous when every other parent she'd met had essentially hated her existence and acted on that hatred. That sort of history was hard to shake. "Just, can you please promise me that if something bad happens, that we're out the door?"
"Of course, babe. If for whatever reason she doesn't like you, we're out of there. I love my mom, but her place is a pit stop on the way to the wedding, and I can always see her another time. But I'm really sure she'll love you." Clarke said, and while Anya still couldn't feel entirely confident in those words, she could appreciate the sentiment behind them, as well as Clarke's confidence.
The fact that Clarke committed to giving her an out made all the difference, letting that stress and anxiety, or at least the majority of it, drift away as she leaned up against the younger woman. "Thank you."
Clarke pulled out her phone, sent off a quick text, and then that arm around Anya's shoulder pulled her in for a closer, tighter embrace, both of them curled up at the base of the tree. "It'll be fine, just you wait."
Clarke's words had bounced around in her head for the rest of the two hour trip, and for a while, with the three other women singing loudly to song after song, Anya could feel hopeful and secure that things would work out. But then they pulled up to Clarke's mom's house.
Again, maybe if the home was more understated, smaller, cozier, her hands wouldn't have been shaking as she got out of the passenger seat, but it was a very big house. It looked a lot like her aunt Nia's, really, with the exception of the trees and shrubs decorating the Griffin household's front lawn.
Anya swallowed hard in hopes of burying her worries and anxiety, but they remained along with a sense of dread, polluting her mind as she cautiously followed Clarke up towards the front door, flinching from the rush of Octavia and Raven as they darted past her and barged into the house ahead of them, just as Clarke had predicted.
As discreetly as she could, Anya checked herself over; even if she knew she'd been careful all day, something could have happened without her knowing, like a chipped nail. Not that a chipped nail should give a bad first impression, but all the standards from her parents came flooding back as she looked her hands and feet over, taking a moment to catch her reflection in the window before heading inside.
Thankfully, there was a mirror right beside the closet, and the commotion in the kitchen, which drew Clarke's full interest, gave her a brief moment to make sure she wouldn't embarrass herself. A quick run of a hand through her hair to tidy it, and a light tug to get her sundress hanging more symmetrically off her body, all had her feeling more comfortable as she made her way to Clarke's side, heart thudding heavily in her chest.
"I specifically texted you earlier that anything I'd baked was for the trip! You two can't just..." Clarke's mother argued, waving a rather non-threatening finger at the duo who were huddled over an open container of cookies, a peanut butter one halfway hanging out of Raven's mouth.
"Mama G, you can't just expect us to just pass by your delicious cookies and wait until Thursday morning to dive into them." Octavia shot back, interrupting Clarke's mom and turning Anya to stone from a jolt of fear, knowing the last time she'd interrupted a family elder, she hadn't been able to sit for a week.
To her utter disbelief, Clarke's mother just laughed. "You're telling me you two can't wait a day and a half? It's not like they're going to go bad!"
Raven, who had devoured her cookie, swallowed and shook her head. "But they're fresh, Abby! You can't hate us for falling victim to fresh cookies!"
"Yeah, it's bad luck when a fresh batch of cookies goes uneaten. Definitely a hex or something, I read it in a book. Tell her, Clarke." Octavia piped up as she grabbed another cookie and took a bite out of it.
"All I know is that every time you two visit, you eat my mom's baked goods, and she's stuck having to bake us another batch." Clarke started, lifting a hand to Raven as the woman's mouth opened. "And don't start on the 'you wouldn't let your best friends starve' spiel. You two are going to be spending most of this stop at Bellamy's, so I get it, he can't cook worth a damn. But mom's probably got a bunch of leftovers in the fridge for you, so you're not going to starve. Get out of the cookies."
Raven and Octavia glanced between each other as Anya tried to process what all was happening, because none of it really made sense to her. Mrs Griffin baked cookies for the rest of the trip, so they should have been left for the rest of the trip, period. She didn't understand why there wasn't yelling, or lectures, or anyone being banished from the premises at the very least.
Mrs Griffin seemed surprised at the last sentence of Clarke's finally shifting her gaze from Octavia and Raven, but her eyes quickly, to Anya's dismay, focused in on her. "Clarke, you didn't tell me you were bringing another friend with you." Mrs Griffin chided Clarke, taking a moment to remove her gardening gloves and place them on the kitchen island before moving towards Anya. "I'm Clarke's mom, but you can call me Abby."
Anya swallowed, or tried to, with her mouth feeling like a desert, and left a hand outstretched as she tried to cobble together some sort of reasonably acceptable introduction from the jumble of words in her mind. "It's wonderful to meet you, Mrs Griffin, thank you so much for your hospitality. I'm Anya Pine...Lexa's cousin."
She could feel the pit in her stomach growing as Mrs Griffin gaped at her, having frozen in place a step and a half away. Anya tried to go over whatever she said, but everything had just spilled out, and she couldn't remember. She hadn't felt so foolish in years.
Anya fought to keep her smile in place, fought to keep a proper level of eye contact, fought to keep her head from ducking low from the distinct desire for the ground to swallow her up, and it was all the fighting that dulled her reaction time when Mrs Griffin stepped forward and pulled her into a hug.
"You're very welcome, Anya, I'm happy to have you here." Mrs. Griffin noted warmly as she pulled away and held her at arm's length, shooting her a curious smile. "Clarke, since when do you have friends with manners?"
Clarke just laughed, drawing Anya's attention to the younger blonde as Octavia tried to speak with a mouthful of cookie.
"Yeah, I'm with O. I take umbrage at that, doc." Raven stated with a grin and she swiped another cookie.
"Says the two who barged into mom's place and immediately started eating her batch of cookies before even saying hello." Clarke noted once her laughter faded enough, quickly finding Anya's eyes. "Anyways, I just met Anya a few days ago, but she's pretty great, as you can tell."
"Not everyone's staring at her with heart-eyes, Little Griffin." Raven teased, only to jolt a bit when Octavia tugged at her arm and shot her a warning look, one Raven didn't seem to process. "What? She is."
Clarke's groan was almost loud enough to mask her mother's confused 'what?', and once again, Anya desperately wanted the world to just swallow her up right then and there, feeling about as small as a mouse all of a sudden, certainly her lungs as she fought to take in any oxygen that she could.
"Oh my god, Raven, could you not?" Clarke asked, a healthy mix of exhaustion, annoyance and bite saturating each syllable.
"I'm just saying, you're clearly into her. Abby's got eyes, she'd figure it out in less than an hour, so no point denying it. Besides, she asked me to keep her informed, so blame her." Raven shot back, voice seeming a little hazier than before, a little more distant behind the sound of a racing heart, which kickstarted Anya into her breathing routine, trying and struggling to get off anything resembling a steady two count.
Anya didn't see Clarke's outraged expression to match her angry gasp, gaze too busy staring at the floor as she tried to focus on her body's needs, but she did see Mrs Griffin leave her field of vision, stepping towards the younger blonde. "Clarke, I worry. It's what mothers do." Mrs Griffin noted, each word slicing through Anya's heart from confusion and envy. Anya had known her mother to worry about a great many things about her, but they were never spoken with such warmth or seemingly good intentions.
"I'm a grown woman, mom. I...oh shit, Anya." Clarke blurted out, and in a flash, there was an arm around Anya's waist and a hand tilting her chin up again, forcing her gaze to meet those delightful blues. "Hey there, babe, it's okay, we're okay. Nothing's changed, mom likes you just like I told you she would, so just breathe with me."
Anya held Clarke's gaze, latching onto the warmth in them as she slowly fought to get her breathing back under control, to get her heart-rate back to a more acceptable level. Clarke just brushed a thumb against her cheek in time with the rhythm they'd set and the hand around her waist gently grazed up and down, assuredly bunching the fabric up, but Anya could only worry about one thing at a time.
Eventually, when she felt stable enough, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled it, trying to will the exhaustion out of her muscle and bone and into the air around them. When she opened her eyes again, everyone was much closer than before, startling her and forcing her to take a half step back and quell the immediate anger and frustration with herself, knowing it wouldn't be proper to express it.
Anya's gaze quickly shifted to Mrs Griffin's, the swell of apologies bubbling up inside of her trembling body filtering through. "I sincerely apologize, Mrs Griffin, I didn't mean to cause a scene. And...please don't be upset with Clarke, she only made her intentions known yesterday, and I...I will show nothing but dignity and respect to your daughter in your household. I assure you, my own intentions are honourable."
Mrs Griffin just stared at her, mounting confusion slowly spreading across her features.
"Octavia, Raven, why don't you two take the batch of cookies out by the pool. I'll let you know when dinner's ready." Abby ordered, turning her focus to the duo before shifting it to Clarke. "And why don't you settle Anya into your room in the meanwhile? The both of you could use a breather, I think. I'll come up when dinner's ready."
"Thanks, mom." Clarke let out before quickly whisking Anya away. She felt weightless as Clarke practically carried her upstairs, that arm around her waist the only thing keeping her completely upright as her mind tried to process. It'd been a while since she felt some overwhelmed with confusion, so when she found herself being laid down on a large, comfy bed, she couldn't help but appreciate not only the warmth of the sheets that had likely been bathing in sunlight for hours, but the renewed ability to focus that the situation provided her.
"Why am I on your bed?" She felt herself blurt out, only halfway chiding herself since she really did need an answer to that.
"Because you could use some rest. It's been a long day for you...a long couple of days, really." Clarke answered, without providing Anya the answer she'd been seeking.
"No, but...but why am I here? I...your mother knows we like each other. Why did she ask for you to take me here?" She clarified, drawing an understanding 'aaaah' from the younger woman curling up against her, a soft hand covering the space over Anya's heart.
"Because after that spiel you gave, my mom has no doubts about your virtue. Pretty sure she feels safe assuming we'd never have sex under her roof." Clarke added, and Anya couldn't help but recoil in horror at the woman's words.
"Of...of course we wouldn't! It...Clarke, this is her home, she's offered her hospitality! Even if I was...well, ready and willing...heavens, I..." Anya stammered out, gaping when laughter bubbled out of Clarke. "What are you...Clarke! This is serious! It would be an unforgivable breach of hospitality to have sex with you under her roof! Of course I'd never be party to that!"
Clarke only buried her increasingly loud and obnoxious laughter in Anya's neck, much to her dismay. She wasn't sure how betraying the hospitality offered to her was a laughing matter.
"Anya, has anyone ever told you that you speak like you're from the eighteen hundreds sometimes?" Clarke asked through giggles, bringing an immense heat to Anya's cheeks as she realized the reason for the laughter.
Clarke, of course, was laughing at her. Of course she'd managed to humiliate herself yet again.
Mortified and hurt, Anya turned away and found the nearest pillow to blindly swat Clarke away as her friend tried to remain close. Pale hands tried to wrap around her waist again, but thankfully a few light swats and shifting farther away did the trick. The last thing she needed was comfort from someone who thought her inferiority was at best adorable, or at worst worthy of outright mockery.
Perhaps she could admit that she was tired, exhausted really, and perhaps she could admit to herself that the tears welling in her eyes were out of more than just frustration and confusion, but she was not about to accept comfort for it.
"Anya, it's not a big deal. It's just you get all formal sometimes and I don't mind, but it's just..." Clarke let out, words wrapped in caution as Anya listened to the bed creak ever so slightly and once again swatted away Clarke's attempt at getting closer. "Anya, please, I don't understand, but I want to. Please..."
Anya squeezed her eyes tight and took a steadying breath, knowing she didn't owe her an explanation, not after yesterday, but Clarke had been good to her. Maybe if she could make her understand, they could leave and forget any of this ever happened.
"I was trying to make a good impression. I didn't want to upset your mother, and I didn't want to cause a scene, or put myself in harm's way. I...I was trying to protect myself, Clarke." Anya stated low and slow, jaw clenching at her inability to keep the thickness of emotion from her voice.
The bed dipped hard behind her before she heard footsteps on the opposite side of the bed. She listened as those footsteps rounded the bed frame and stopped in front of her, the sound of Clarke's knees hitting the hardwood flooring nearly forcing Anya's eyes open.
"Anya, who exactly were you protecting yourself from?" Clarke asked in a whisper, and with her eyes shut, she couldn't defend herself from the other woman taking hold of her hand. "Because if this...if this is about what your parents did, then I'll understand, but my mom's not like that. Normal parents aren't like that."
It was the stressed use of 'normal' that had Anya's eyes opening sharply and blinking away her tears as they ran across the bridge of her nose and down her temple. "So people keep telling me, but how am I supposed to make sense of that? I spent eighteen years of my life locked up and only ever meeting parents and adults like them, Clarke. That's normal to me. 'Spare the rod, spoil the child' is normal to me, and it was practiced to excess at every mistake I ever made, until they felt I'd learned my lesson. Maybe your mother isn't like them, but that just leaves a lot of questions as to what she IS like, and I just don't know, Clarke. I don't know, and I...I get scared, and I try to keep myself safe, and the way I present myself, the way I speak, it's helped keep me safe, so perhaps I'm out of my depth here, but I'm just trying. I'm confused, but I'm trying."
By the end of her spiel, the tears had become too much, and she'd closed her eyes again, knowing the longer they stayed open, the more upset at herself she'd be, the harder it'd be to reel her emotions back in and compose herself. Mrs Griffin did say, after all, that she'd come up to get them for dinner, and the last thing she wanted to do was appear disheveled or unladylike in the presence of Clarke's mother. She'd already made a bad impression as well as ruined her eye makeup, the least she could do was keep from making it worse.
It was the brush of a thumb across her knuckles that brought her attention away from her thoughts and worries again. "Hey, can I...may I come up there and hold you?"
"Clarke, I don't need your comforting over this." Anya insisted, earning a confusing squeeze of her hand.
"Okay, I get that, but...I want to help you. And if you need answers, I want to give them, okay? I want to help you feel as safe as I know you are here. Please?" Clarke asked, and while she was a hair's breadth from denying her, she knew Clarke would just be stubborn and tell her from the bedside. It wouldn't be kind to leave her with sore knees and a stiff back for no reason.
Anya gave a small nod and started shuffling backwards, only for Clarke to tug at her arm. It stilled Anya only for a second or two, but it was long enough for Clarke to bound onto the bed and settle in behind her, Anya letting out a huff when the younger blonde's arm wrapped around her waist.
"Okay, baby, let me tell you about my mom." Clarke whispered as she flung a leg across Anya's, further entangling them. Maybe she blushed at the pet name. Maybe it had her chest feeling warmer and heart beating faster, but thankfully the younger woman's hand wasn't there to feel any of it. "I got my stubborn streak from her. With her, she always knew what was best, even when she ended up being wrong. It was a rare time when she'd admit to making a mistake, and she's still like that. I'd like to think I'm better about that than her, and I don't sulk like her when she does admit she was wrong."
"Well, you did apologize a few times yesterday, so I'd say you may be less stubborn, yes." Anya pitched in, warming up to this little diversion of Clarke's.
"Thank you. But anyway, she's chief of surgery, and she's always been really career driven. Not a lot of time at home, so she really cherishes it when she can get time off. Growing up, she wanted me to be just like her, a doctor...a surgeon...but I loved art too much. We fought over that for the last two years of high school and the first year at art school, but eventually she stopped bugging me about it. She was worried...she wanted me to be able to support myself, and artists aren't known for our stable income. I think when I started winning awards and getting well paid commissions, that's when she started coming around, but it was never a 'become a doctor or I'll disown you' thing. She was worried, and she knew doctors got paid well, so she pushed me in that direction, wanting me to be able to keep a roof over my head, and she knew I kind of liked the career path enough anyways. I mean, she hates everything to do with Wall Street and that whole thing, but she would have been happy for me to go into a lucrative field even if she'd be mortified of the work I'd do there and the ethics I'd have to throw out the window to be successful. It was all about what was best for me. She had a few other episodes like that over the years, really." Clarke rambled, giving Anya a bit of a clearer picture of Mrs Griffin.
"Did she grow up in the working class?" She asked, curious to see if one of her conclusions was right. Usually, from her experience, the truly wealthy didn't concern themselves too much with the earning potential of their children, not when they could pull strings and find their children well-paying work if their passions failed, or simply just offer positions in their business, or hand them a significant trust fund to deal with any financial concerns.
"Her father worked at a hardware store, and her mother worked as a line cook for a restaurant in her hometown. So yeah, lower-middle class, I guess. Where I grew up pretty sheltered, she still worried about money and about keeping me safe, the same worries her parents had, worries that got passed onto her. Sure, we lived in a really safe neighbourhood, but she grew up worrying about that stuff, and so she worried about me, which...well, ended up being valid worries to an extent. But again, she's stubborn, and it's usually her way or the highway, so that caused some problems." Clarke continued, answering Anya's question yet leaving her with many more new and unanswered ones.
Anya, feeling a little less annoyed and upset, let herself cover Clarke's arm around her waist, her hand clasping around her friend's. "Did you get in trouble a lot as a child?"
"I rebelled as a lot of kids do, and I think she recognized those moments pretty easily. She had a harder time when I came out to her and dad as trans." Clarke answered, her words causing Anya's eyes to widen for a moment, but in a strange enough way, it made sense. It'd been confusing that she and Clarke had clicked so quickly, and bonded so easily. It was easier with people with shared experiences, even when both might not be aware of those similarities right off the bat. "Dad was a hundred percent behind me, and mom...she was scared I'd get hurt, or I'd regret it, or some medical issue would pop up. Dad had me on puberty blockers for a while, that was the negotiation, but mom...unknown to me...refused to get me on HRT until we moved. Apparently, she read stories about kids transitioning publicly and getting treated horribly, so...well, I didn't take well to that. I had friends, and I didn't want to move."
Anya considered Clarke's words and nodded as some details fell into place. "But you did."
"I did, after I sneakily ordered some hormones online and started transitioning at the start of high school. It...wasn't a great experience. The meds were safe, of course, but I started to change really fast, and I guess I hadn't thought everything through in terms of how to adjust at school, or who to talk to about accommodations, and my school didn't take it well at all. I had a really hard second semester, I caught a lot of hate, and that terrified my mom. So even though I wanted to stick through it, we moved." Clarke continued, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out as her nose nuzzled against the back of Anya's neck. "Dad was still stationed down in Texas, he couldn't be posted, but mom had a lucrative job waiting in D.C., so we left. He'd visit on weekends, or whenever he could, and...yeah. I wasn't happy, to say the least."
Anya nodded along, letting herself sink into Clarke's embrace. She knew what it was like to start fresh, to have a nearly clean slate, and how unnerving and scary it could be. "You had to start over. How did your mom take the transition from there?"
"Honestly, she was all systems go. In her mind, once I'd finished the previous semester early, getting testing done a month in advance, I had three months to get as much acclimating done, as much paperwork completed, and as much support networks set up as possible. And she helped make it all happen...and it made me hate her. She wasn't good as vocalizing her worries, and she made me feel like we moved because she was ashamed of me, that I had to be stealth because she was ashamed of me for being trans. And she was always working, so that didn't get cleared up for a long time, which is why I'm really touchy when it comes to being hidden away, or being silenced. I know I'm not shameful, and I don't deserve it, but I can get insecure about it." Clarke continued, her rambling explanation taking a tangent that had Anya's memory clicking to the second day of the road trip.
"When you reacted harshly to me saying that I asked Octavia and Lexa not to talk about me. You thought I was ashamed of you?" Anya asked, almost wanting to look over her shoulder, but with Clarke's face buried in her neck, it'd be fruitless.
"It was a gut reaction more than anything, and it only took a few seconds to realize you weren't ashamed, but like I said...I'm touchy. I spent a solid chunk of time thinking my mom was ashamed of me. It took a toll." Clarke answered. "But yeah, anyways, she helped me with a lot of things, and while I'd learned a lot on YouTube, she was there to show me some tricks, and offer a shoulder to cry on when my senior prom date stood me up after I came out to him. She's been good to me, just...really severely focused on my safety and security."
Anya took a few moments to wonder what it might have been like having a mother like that. Her own parents had fast-tracked her transition, but they'd never offered her support in anything that didn't primarily suit their needs and desires. "And whenever you were punished? What...how did that go?"
"Mom usually took away my computer and phone. We have a storage container, so she'd drive over and put my stuff there, so that I couldn't just cheat while she was at work. Anything really serious was a bit more guilt-trippy, especially if I made her come home early from work. She'd sit me down, tell me how I disappointed her, how disappointed I should be in myself, and that what I'd done pulled her away from an important job saving lives." Clarke let out with a heavy sigh. "That didn't happen too often, but she could be pretty soul-destroying in those. But she'd usually try to help build me back up after that, focus on being better and all that, reminding me that I'm a good person. So even at her worst, she was never too horrible."
She stewed in her thoughts for a few moments, wondering if she seriously messed up during their stay, if Mrs Griffin would sit her down for a stern talking to. Anya was never too great with those, but they certainly were preferable to a belt and angry yelling and spending a day alone in the pitch black wine cellar. Certainly better than the severe emotional assassinations her mother would pull on her, eviscerating her confidence and comfort in her womanhood again and again relentlessly for each and every misstep or imperfection.
"Clarke?" She asked, breaking the silence that had stretched on comfortably.
The younger blonde just pulled her ever closer and hummed against her neck, apparently having gotten quite comfy while she'd been deep in thought. "Yeah?"
"Thank you." She noted softly, a smile tugging at her lips when her response earned the soft press of lips against her neck.
"Anytime, baby. Now let me relax. Dinner won't be 'til around seven, an' it's only five-thirty." Clarke said, voice slurring slightly from how deeply the woman was drifting towards sleep.
"May I fix my makeup first? If you fall asleep, I will too, and then your mother will find us like this." Anya asked, earning a low laugh for her efforts.
"Mom's gonna show you my baby pictures before we leave for the cape. She won't blink if your mascara's run a little bit." Clarke murmured, a lengthy yawn following up her words. "Still the prettiest girl here."
Anya's cheeks filled with warmth as a veritable swarm of butterflies fluttered around in her stomach. Clarke could be very flattering and sweet, and with the woman's arm wrapped snugly around her, Anya couldn't help but begin to drift off as well as she let out a yawn of her own. "Fairly sure that title belongs to you, darling."
"Mmmn, now you're definitely not goin' anywhere. I like when you call me that." Clarke mumbled, readjusting her other arm to slide under Anya and rest directly over her heart, making Anya's reaction to the woman's words come at a delay, too happy with how safe and secure she felt at the moment.
It took a few moments to figure out what Clarke was talking about, but once she did, she sobered quickly. She'd been so careful with her words, not wanting to get too far ahead of herself or to scare Clarke away, or to sound utterly preposterous. But she...she liked it? Anya mused, unable to stop the smile blooming on her lips. Well...
Anya listened and heard the steady even breaths washing against her neck, Clarke having fallen fast asleep. She let out a quiet laugh and snuggled back into the beautiful blonde. "Sweet dreams, darling."
Waking up hadn't been nearly as bad as Anya thought it might have been. She'd apparently shifted during her nap, and when Mrs Griffin had knocked and entered, she was face-down on Clarke's chest, the younger blonde holding her in place tighter than she might have expected. Clarke's mother had given her the message that dinner would be ready in ten minutes, which gave her plenty of time to rouse the younger woman from sleep and freshen herself up for the occasion.
Dinner had been much more sociable and friendly than she'd imagined, so used to the cool, stiff atmosphere surrounding meals at her home or at an extended family member's place. Much of the discussion revolved around Raven and Octavia spoiling their appetites with cookies, which unfortunately led to talk of how Clarke had overeaten two days prior.
Which, after a lot of laughter and teasing, eventually led to her.
Thankfully, she'd been able to brush everything off with a few quickly noted facts followed by a change in topic. After all, Anya didn't want to lie to Mrs Griffin, and she wasn't ashamed of her anxiety troubles. Admitting that she was socially isolated as a child, and prone to anxiety over a few things in life, seemed to smooth things over and offered enough of a stall in discussion for her to easily shift focus onto discussions about the visit to the park, which ate up the rest of the talks over dinner.
Raven and Octavia struggled through the meal, so dessert was delayed indefinitely, of course.
"Anyways, you girls go run off. I know you're eager to see your brother again, Octavia." Mrs Griffin stated as she carried some of the dishes into the kitchen, prompting Anya to do the same, not wanting the older woman to have to put up with cleaning on her own.
"You sure, Mrs G? We could stick around and help out..." Octavia noted, voice trailing off in seeming expectation to be corrected.
Mrs Griffin just sighed. "The last time I let you two clean up, I ended up spending an hour cleaning the kitchen of all the bubbles."
"Need I remind you that O did that all on her own, against my advice?" Raven asked, eyebrow cocked and aimed at her girlfriend, a teasing smirk gracing her lips.
"I couldn't find the dishwasher detergent! How was I supposed to know dish soap wouldn't work? They both have 'dish' in their name!" Octavia argued, drawing Raven into a minor debate that faded off into the background as Anya focused on her duties, bringing the dishes into the kitchen and organizing everything in order to make sure it all went as efficiently as possible.
"Clarke, why don't you bring those two to Bellamy's?" Mrs Griffin asked, drawing Anya's attention momentarily as her head swiveled, finding Clarke hovering nearby, looking conflicted.
The younger blonde stepped closer, resting a hand on her shoulder as she leaned closer, the smell of her jasmine-vanilla body wash filling the air. "You can come with us. It'd be okay."
Anya shook her head, knowing that any of the comfort that she got from being around Clarke would be nullified by being around new people in a new, enclosed space she'd be stuck in, on top of leaving Mrs Griffin with cleaning duties.
"I'll be fine, Clarke." She stated as firmly as she could, wanting to express a sense of confidence that she may not have been fully feeling. It wouldn't do for Clarke to worry about her. Still, when she saw her friend's face fall ever so slightly, she reached up and covered the pale hand on her shoulder. "But come back soon?"
Clarke's free hand was at her cheek in an instant, grazing a slow trail down to her jaw with the backs of her fingers. It was a bold move that had Anya's heart racing instantly, and she was fairly sure her face was beet red, but with Clarke's lips blooming into such an adoring, bright smile, it was hard to care that she was practically melting.
"Of course." With a whisper and a wink, Clarke was gone, rushing off to grab Raven and Octavia, leaving her leaning against the kitchen counter, suddenly out of breath and in need of lower body strength.
"Oh, sweetheart..." Mrs Griffin started in a teasing tone as she put the glasses from dinner into the dishwasher, again breaking Anya's expectations, having thought she'd use the sink for them. "You should make her work harder next time. With Jake, he'd have to kiss me before I'd admit to wanting him to come home quickly."
However red Anya thought her peak was, she was pretty sure she exceeded it with how hot and throbbing her face felt as she helped load the dishwasher. "Clarke and I...well...we, um..." Anya stammered, feeling like a foolish child under Mrs Griffin's watchful gaze.
A gaze that flickered to confusion, then surprise, before settling again. "You two haven't kissed yet?" The surprise was hardly masked from the older woman's voice, and it had Anya's head bowing slightly before she steeled herself, knowing that she shouldn't feel ashamed. That she wasn't lesser.
"No, ma'am. I've never been kissed." She admitted in standard blunt fashion, feeling much lighter and confident this time around, knowing Clarke was behind her, knowing Raven and Octavia supported her, and that Lexa could always come get her if something went awry. After a few moments of silence from Clarke's mother she finished loaded the plates and tilted her gaze to the woman, who looked more perplexed than anything.
"I told you I was raised in relative social isolation. My parents rarely let me leave the house up until they disowned me for being trans and a lesbian. I never had a boyfriend or girlfriend, and by the time I learned how to live on my own, and had established something of a career for myself, I was finishing my early twenties." Anya explained, cutting her life's story down into a digestible chunk, wanting Mrs Griffin to understand to some degree. She tried not to focus on why it mattered so much that the woman did. "Eventually, the novelty of a modestly attractive woman having never been kissed fades. But I'm not desperate. I'm not about to beg. I know my worth...Clarke does too. She just likes me, warts and all."
Mrs Griffin's stare held, softening second by second. "You're awfully candid, you know."
Anya just nodded as she loaded the silverware. "Better you hear it from me than someone else, ma'am."
"Is that why you were so intense earlier when we met?" The other woman asked, her words prompting Anya's eyes to widen with worry, something Mrs Griffin noticed quickly. "It's not a bad thing, I was just...caught off guard. Clarke's friends don't tend to have manners, and don't really behave like you, but Clarke was right. I like you...and knowing Clarke likes you, and that you two have some things in common, that only makes me happier."
Anya swallowed, unsure how to feel about the acceptance. "She's a wonderful woman. I don't know what the future holds, but I care for her." She noted, voice quiet but sure, confident in her words at the very least. If she knew one thing, it was that Clarke was growing dearer to her day by day.
Mrs Griffin placed a hand on her shoulder and gently turned Anya to face her. "Well, I can think of something she'd like..."
Anya watched the older women retreat to the kitchen island, pulling open a large drawer and holding up a few things that clued her into Mrs Griffin's plan. "I think I can handle that."
It was a little before ten when Anya heard the front door open, the sound of Clarke tromping like an elephant through the house following shortly after. She would have been concerned about Mrs Griffin waking up, given the woman had just gone to bed. However, she'd told Anya she, much like Clarke, slept like a rock, so at least there was that to be thankful for.
"Uuuuuggh, sometimes I want to kill those idiots." Clarke announced loudly from somewhere closer to the front of the house, likely the living room. "I swear they...oh my god did someone bake brownies?"
Not a moment later, the quick pitter-patter of Clarke's feet met Anya's ears, idly listening as her friend slid into the kitchen and bumped into her back.
Clarke's happy gasp was predictable, having sussed out her love of chocolate. "Babe, you made brownies? And you're making cookies, too?!" The younger blonde was positively giddy, looping arms around Anya's waist, chin lightly pressing at the top of her shoulder.
Anya placed the mixing spoon down and smiled. "I was about to make cookies."
She had to hold in her laughter as silence stretched on with how absolutely clear Clarke's confusion was. "You...were? Like...not anymore? Or are you just making cookie dough?"
"No, I was about to make cookies. Now we're making cookies." Anya noted happily, spinning in Clarke's loose hold, reaching and grabbing for the apron she'd kept nearby for when her friend returned.
"Oh hohoho, no way, Anya. You don't want me baking cookies with you, I'll set the kitchen on fire." Clarke protested, taking two measured steps back, arms outstretched in warning. "Seriously, ask mom what happened the last two times."
"Then I suppose I'll just have to teach you, because while the brownies are fair game once we hit the road, the cookies? Purely for the ones who made them. So if you're interested in some chocolate chunk cookies, or some oatmeal cream cookies..." Anya began, lips curling into a smile when Clarke interrupted her spiel with an egregiously loud sigh.
"Okay, okay, you had me at chocolate. But seriously, I'm horrible at baking." Clarke complained as she stepped up alongside Anya, eyes sweeping over the ingredients, body tense and teeth gnawing on her lower lip. "So, what do we do?"
Anya smiled and ran a hand down Clarke's arm, feeling a little burst of joy as the tension left the woman's body. "I've already got some of the ingredients out, but I'll need you to help me get the rest. I need brown sugar, baking soda, vanilla, and all purpose flour. Can you help me with that?"
Clarke nodded quickly, apparently knowing where everything would be despite not being a proficient baker. It had Anya wondering how often Clarke snuck up on her mother and sneaked out some chocolate chips or cookie dough while Mrs Griffin was distracted.
I guess I'll have to be watchful... She mused, watching Clarke gather all the ingredients and plop them down on the counter.
The younger blonde double checked her count and then smiled at the collection. "That's all of them. So...what now?"
"The most important part. We measure." Anya stated, clearing enough counter space to set all the ingredients side by side. "Now, a more experienced baker would be able to do this while making less dishes, but since you worry, I'll make sure you get it done right. Baking is about precision, Clarke. Precise ingredients, precise mixing, precise baking conditions. Slight changes will give you something different than what you aimed for."
"If you set out to intimidate me, mission accomplished." Clarke let out, tongue tracing her lower lip nervously as she swallowed hard.
Honestly, Clarke was endearingly cute when nervous and flustered, especially over something as trivial as baking. She'd be a bad potential future girlfriend to let that nervousness stew.
Anya stepped behind Clarke and wrapped her arms around the woman's waist, relishing in the happy sigh and how wonderfully soft she was. "I know you'll be wonderful in this, darling. I believe in you." She whispered, fighting back a giggle as she watched Clarke's neck turn red. As much as she kind of adored Clarke's pet names for her, it was nice to know her own could get the younger woman all flustered and smiling.
"O...okay. Let's do this." Clarke said with a nod, words coming out smooth and relaxed, just as she'd hoped for.
"Now, here's the recipe, so we need to measure out each ingredient we'll be using. For clarity's sake, any container we use to hold the ingredients we need, we set out in front of their original containers. So the measurement of flour goes in front of the bag of flour, the egg in front of the carton, the half cup of white sugar in front of its jar, and so on, and so forth." Anya explained, Clarke only hesitating for a moment before grabbing a quarter cup and digging into the Ziploc bag of brown sugar.
She watched Clarke make each of the measurements as she kept herself busy with putting out and setting up the stand mixer. She'd been keeping an eye on Clarke out of her periphery, so it wasn't a surprise when, after a sneaky glance in her direction, the younger blonde took a few extra chocolate chunks and popped them in her mouth.
Anya grinned and before Clarke knew it, she'd lightly smacked her friend with a handful of flour.
"Buh...wha...what was that for?!" Clarke demanded, despite not even having swallowed the chocolate yet, some of it having lingered on her lip.
"We have limited resources, Clarke. Don't eat the chocolate...unless you'd prefer we make the cookies with raisins?" Anya teased, laughter bubbling out as Clarke's face scrunched in horror. "Thought not."
"But it's just here, and it's tasty..." Clarke let out with a heavy pout, staring all forlorn at the near-empty bag of chocolate chunks.
For a moment, she considered chiding Clarke, but then Mrs Griffin's words from earlier came to mind. And maybe she had just enough left in the tank today to keep her anxiety at bay and try something new.
Anya took the step and a half to close the distance between them, feeling a little brazen as she let her nose nuzzle Clarke's flour-covered cheek. "If you can be good until we're done, I might have a treat waiting for you."
Clarke's laughter was low and throaty as a hand trailed from her waist to her hip and offered the lightest of squeezes, embarrassingly setting Anya's body aflame. "Are you bribing me, Anya?"
"Is it working?" She shot back, lips a hair's breadth from the younger woman's ear, eyes recording Clarke's delightful shiver into her memory banks. "I'm not saying you have to behave for the rest of the night..."
"I couldn't manage that even if I wanted to." Clarke interrupted, turning to face Anya with eyes so dark and blown that her yearning and arousal was impossible to miss. "You've got an hour at best, baby."
Anya was running on adrenaline and all the confidence and joy she was able to muster as she trailed her nose up and down Clarke's, their mouths only a breath apart. If Clarke realized she was trembling, the woman didn't show it, dark blue eyes too focused on her lips.
"Maybe I'm counting on that."
With that, she took one shaky step back, then another, still doing all she could to keep up her cheeky, confident facade until she was turned away, back to putting the right tool on the Mixmaster. Even as she finished and caught her breath again, she could feel Clarke's eyes burning into her, she could feel the younger blonde's presence.
Anya had never felt sexier. Hell, she'd never felt sexy before, but the sheer excitement and confidence thrumming through her veins at Clarke's responses, at the darkness in Clarke's eyes, it all had her feeling desired. It was the best kind of new.
"Ten fifty-five." Clarke spoke, voice quiet and shaking despite the strength saturating each syllable. Anya tilted her head enough to see the woman, to acknowledge her words, even if she didn't quite understand. "I'm carrying you upstairs at ten fifty-five. So tick-tock, babe."
Anya swallowed hard as her hands gripped the mixer hard enough to have her fear it might break, waiting for the rush of anticipation and excitement to pass enough for her to focus. It was odd not to feel much more than a little fear at the edges of her mind. Usually the mere thought of a situation like she was in would have her blushing and finding whatever distance she could manage, but instead, she was embracing her blushing and the confidence of Clarke's feelings for her.
And honestly, the mere notion of Clarke carrying her to the bedroom filled a long dormant romantic fantasy of hers. Needless to say, her heart was pounding.
She looked at the clock and saw they had plenty of time to get their baking done. What they'd do with that free time, well, maybe that had her body buzzing with positive vibes for once.
Maybe she was particularly excited about ten fifty-five rolling around.
"Oh my god, these are delicious! I'm such a good baker." Clarke exclaimed before taking another bite out of her chocolate chip cookie, eyes fluttering shut as another moan slipped from the woman's lips.
"Doesn't hurt that you had a good teacher." Anya mused with a grin as she looked over their haul. Two batches of chocolate chip, and one batch of oatmeal cream cakes. More than enough to tide them over until the wedding.
"I love how modest you are, babe." Clarke said with a laugh, taking a step closer to move into Anya's personal space. "But I think you've got a little icing...right...about..."
Anya's brow furrowed as she twitched her lips each way, not feeling anything on her face as Clarke hesitantly reached up a hand, fingers curled away.
"...here!" Clarke let out, smearing a few fingertips of icing across her face.
Anya gasped in surprise, not having even noticed Clarke dip into the leftover icing, and not appreciating that Clarke was taking her thing. She, after all, was the one who lightly hit people in the face with various things, not Clarke.
Swiftly, she took hold of Clarke's wrist, holding her hand in place as she rotated them around until her back was to the counter, Clarke taking that as an invitation to lean in closer, smug grin in place. "Yeah...definitely got something on your face, babe."
There was no going back. No way could she just stand down from the challenge, and there was no way she could just pass up the opportunity to fluster Clarke as much as possible. She took a deep breath and shot Clarke an amused smile she hoped would disarm the younger blonde.
Anya lifted the offending hand to her face and took two of the four fingers into her mouth, pushing past her reservations and letting her tongue swirl around the icing-coated digits. Much like earlier, Clarke's pupils were immediately blown as Anya held her gaze, giving her ample opportunity to reach back with her free hand unnoticed.
Though patience was never her strong suit, she waited until she'd taken the final two fingers into her mouth before her handful of leftover cookie dough smacked against Clarke's cheek. She pressed a little harder as she smeared it across Clarke's nose, unable to keep from giggling around the digits as she cleaned them off and dropped Clarke's hand, the limb falling to the younger woman's side.
"You look good enough to eat, Clarke." Anya tried to say through her laughter, only earning a huff from the blonde before her. Rolling her eyes, she turned around and grabbed a washcloth, wetting it for a moment before bringing it up to Clarke's face, gently wiping off the oatmeal cookie dough.
It took maybe a minute on top of a rinse or two, but eventually, she got all the cookie dough off of her visibly frustrated and flustered friend's face. "There we go..." Anya murmured, catching the next few words in her throat before deciding that maybe with how daring she'd been so far, maybe she could give one more tiny effort. "...just as beautiful as I remembered."
Clarke crossed her arms and pouted, slightly ducking her head and looking up at Anya through her eyelashes. "I want to be annoyed at you for the whiplash, babe, but then you go and say that." Clarke spoke, letting out an arduously long sigh. "I guess I got my just desserts for pranking you."
"I suppose so." Anya noted, hand lifting on its own accord to smooth her thumb over Clarke's freshly clean cheek. "You're sweet, though...and I'm not just talking about the icing."
"Oh my god, I can't...I didn't think you'd ever do that, but...I mean, are you okay?" Clarke stammered out, a flash of realization in her eyes.
Anya smiled encouragingly as those butterflies did another dance in her stomach, kind of loving how careful and kind Clarke was with her. "I'm okay. To be honest, I didn't think I had it in me, but...well, I couldn't let it stand."
"Because your thing is hitting people in the face with random things." Clarke said with another laugh, stepping in and pulling Anya into a hug. The feel of Clarke's face nestling in her neck had her feeling light and warm, almost distracted enough not to notice the time.
"Clarke..." She whispered, earning a happy hum that may or may not have sent a shiver down her spine. "It's ten fifty-five."
"Is everything packed up?" Clarke asked, lips brushing against Anya's neck so softly that her breath caught in her throat.
Anya looked around the kitchen. They'd done most of the dishes, just the bowls used for mixing the cookie dough and for the icing, the mixing spoon, and the stoneware were left unwashed. But all of the cookies were packed away in containers, and that was the most important part.
"There are a few dishes left." Anya stated, going over in her head how long it might take to get them done. "I could wash them in maybe two minutes, three?" She continued, unable to fight a frown when Clarke detached from her so quickly.
"Can you do it in ninety?" Clarke asked, hands skimming down to rest on Anya's hips, that fire in her eyes from earlier almost too mesmerizing to look away from, but she had work to do.
Anya gave a nod and quickly started the hot water in the sink, scrubbing the mixing spoon and icing bowl as it filled enough to accommodate the larger mixing bowl for the dough. Clarke, meanwhile, hadn't made herself useful; if anything, she was a lingering distraction, hands fluctuating between resting on and gripping her hips, hot puffs of breath wafting against the back of Anya's neck.
The stoneware was quick to clean and rinse, leaving her a good thirty seconds to use a paper towel to scrape off the remaining dough and toss it into the sink for a quick scrub, her hands working in overdrive to get it entirely clean, the countdown in her head urging her on.
Five...four...three... Anya mused as she did a last once over of the bowl, quickly rinsed it and placed it on the rack. Her hand had just let go of the bowl when suddenly, Clarke's hands shifted, and Anya quickly found herself swept up into Clarke's arms.
Maybe she was blushing about as intensely as she ever had. Maybe there was a smile on her face she wasn't sure could ever be extinguished. And maybe she couldn't let herself keep her eyes open because she was pretty sure she'd swoon, and the last thing Clarke needed was dead weight in her arms.
Honestly, she hadn't quite taken Clarke seriously with the threat of taking her upstairs. Clarke was soft, and Anya kind of really loved that about her. To the younger blonde's credit, she made it to the top of the stairs before she left Anya to her feet, Clarke visibly fighting the urge to keel over as she tried to catch her breath.
It was such a romantic and heartwarming display that Anya could hardly keep herself from finishing the job, lifting Clarke in her arms and carrying them both to the bed.
Clarke let out a huff and immediately curled up against Anya as they settled onto the bed. Anya used her hand to sweep away Clarke's bangs, giving her full view of the sad, sheepish smile on the other woman's face.
"I wanted to carry you all the way, but my guns just ran out of ammo." Clarke noted in apology, lightly resting her forehead against Anya's. "Sorry..."
Anya pulled her arms tightly around Clarke, holding them close, her eyes seeking out Clarke's evasive blues. As much as she felt awkward being too forward, the last thing she wanted was Clarke doubting herself when the woman had made her feel special. "Don't apologize. It made my night."
At that, Clarke met her gaze, searching for any sign of insincerity before they fluttered shut, a disappointed sigh meeting Anya's ears. "I was trying to be all sexy and take charge, but my body wasn't ready."
"Clarke?" Anya probed, earning a content hum as Clarke wrapped herself around Anya. "We'll be staying in Lexa's pool house in Chatham, correct?" She asked, earning another hum in the affirmative. "The master bedroom is on the main floor, a few feet away from the kitchen. Do you think you could handle that?"
Clarke's eyes shot open, wide with wonder as one of Clarke's hands snaked through their embrace to cup her cheek. "I'd carry you from the walkway. So long as there's no stairs, I'm good." Clarke answered, the tip of her nose gently brushing against Anya's. "But Anya...I'm not sure I'll be able to keep from kissing you after that. Like, it was so hard for me not to just kiss you when I picked you up."
Anya felt herself blush at the sheer yearning and urgency in Clarke's voice, knowing someone as wonderful as Clarke desired someone like her that much. "Then you'll kiss me."
"Anya..." Clarke started, but she had a good idea of what her friend would say, and it didn't matter.
"I'll be ready, then. If it's just us, and we're together, and you can set the mood like that...I'll be ready. I...I want to kiss you, too, Clarke. And I trust you." Anya said, leaning into Clarke's hand, wanting her to know that she felt safe. That she had no reservations. That however much Clarke desired her, she desired Clarke in return.
Anya relished in the way Clarke gently brushed her hand along her cheek, adored the blooming excitement in those late summer sky-blue eyes. "So...it worked? I wooed you?" The younger blonde murmured with a healthy dose of hope.
"You swept me off my feet, literally and figuratively." She reaffirmed, grinning as Clarke's tongue poked out from her own giddy smile at the punny revelation.
"Mmmmmn, you have no idea how happy that makes me." Clarke mused, stretching one of her legs out before looping it over one of Anya's. "And you have no idea how much I want to fall asleep with you right here, right now, but we need to shower."
Anya let out a sigh, knowing Clarke was right, even if it was a disappointing truth. "I suppose we should get to it. May I go first?"
"After you, babe." Clarke noted, reluctantly letting go of Anya and scooting the tiniest bit away, giving them both enough room to stretch and get up. Anya was just moving towards her suitcase when the sound of Clarke gently clearing her voice stilled her. "Hey, um...so I was thinking...and you can say no, but...I mean your suitcase is all the way over there..."
"Clarke...?" Anya questioned openly, unsure what the younger blonde was getting at, only feeling a blooming warmth in her chest at how deeply the woman was blushing.
"Totally not a big deal, but I figure we haven't done laundry yet, and you're probably running low on sleep clothes, and I know I have some over-sized tees I use for sleeping right there in my dresser, and like I said, it wouldn't be a big deal..." Clarke rambled, Anya not needing much time to figure out what Clarke was aiming for.
With barely a thought, Anya opened the second dresser drawer and found a collection of neatly folded clothes. She sifted through them for a second or two before pulling out a golden yellow t-shirt that was so long it way as well have been a dress. Just as she went to close it, she spotted a tiny pair of shorts and plucked them out as well before pulling the top drawer open.
"Oh! Um, Anya, you don't have to..." Clarke went to interject, but Anya already had it open and could just barely stifle her laughter. Whenever Clarke had moved down south, she'd left a fair bit of things behind, and from what Anya could tell, much of it was very colourful and very risqué by her own standards.
"You said it yourself, Clarke. I'm probably low on clothes. Should I see what I've got, or..." Anya started, before plucking a pair of leopard-print boyshorts with electric blue lace trim from the drawer and holding it out for Clarke, who groaned and flopped back down onto the bed. "...should I go for some of these lovely articles you so cold-heartedly left behind?"
"I don't think I ever even wore those ones. I might have been drunk when I bought them, I think." Clarke grumbled, arm covering her face in apparently mortification.
Anya looked the pair over and did indeed see the tag was still attached. "Hrm. Well then, I suppose these will do just fine, then." She noted, grabbing the matching pair from the drawer before shutting it and striding off towards the ensuite.
"Are you trying to kill me, woman?" Clarke called out playfully, sounding more than a little shocked at her selection, but Anya had been entirely conservative so far in the trip. There couldn't be any harm in straying from her usual on something so minor.
Besides, the thought of wearing Clarke's clothes was a little validating. Not necessarily that it could ever mark her as anyone's territory or property, so anything so utterly patriarchal, but just the pure familiarity of it all. Relationships were essentially sharing lives, and the first steps towards that had to involve sharing of other things. Clothes just seemed like an easy way to help continue to forge that connection they'd been growing.
Tomorrow would be a long, busy day. The least she could do was find a way to enjoy the rest of the night with Clarke.
A/N: Okay! So this one started off with some angst, but that's almost all of it out of the way now. Some more at the wedding, but ultimately, it's going to be mostly smooth sailing in fluff from here on out :)
Anywho, I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading!