Wednesday Morning, June 1st (Chantilly, VA)
The first time Clarke woke, it was to Anya, propped up on an elbow, hovering over her chest, and gasping for air. Being woken while the sun wasn't fully up had her grumbling her displeasure and tugging Anya back down onto her.
An action that Anya relented to, even as the woman let out a laugh. "Just don't hold me too tight, darling. I nearly suffocated in your breasts."
The stray image of Anya face-down in her cleavage had Clarke giggling as she drifted back towards slumber, oddly enough. She never fell back to sleep after waking, but for whatever reason, it was coming on quickly again, and she couldn't be bothered to care. "Sleepy. Come up here, baby."
She loosened her grip, letting Anya crawl up, still resting atop her, but now resting that pretty head on her collarbone.
"Go back to sleep, Clarke. It's not seven yet, we have nowhere to be but here in this bed, together." Anya murmured, her soft slightly slurred words putting Clarke entirely at ease, eyes fluttering shut as she took in Anya's warmth.
She hadn't even noticed they weren't even wrapped in covers as usual when dreams overtook her once more.
The second time Clarke woke, the sun had been up for hours by the look of it, and the warm, pleasant weight atop her chest that she'd fallen asleep with was gone. Frowning, Clarke turned her head side to side and peered blearily at her surroundings, failing to find Anya.
"Ughh..." Clarke let out in a grunt, curling back into the cocoon of her duvet and bed sheets. Every morning for the past while, she'd woken to Anya in her arms. Waking up without the woman in her cozy embrace just made her feel oddly empty.
Still, even without Anya in her arms, her bed was warm, and it gave her sobering mind time to think on the previous day.
It'd definitely been rougher than she'd expected. She'd planned to call Lexa and give her a talking to, get to her mom's, and spend a relaxing evening in after dropping O and Raven off. Instead, Anya had shut her anger down and voiced worries about meeting Clarke's mom. Worries that, to an extent, came true when Raven opened her big mouth and nearly gave Anya a panic attack, and had her crush spilling out some very polite verbal diarrhea out of pure fear.
It'd been another thing she'd probably beat herself up over, stumbling and not recognizing Anya's fears for what they were. Or, at least, not before she'd laughed and made Anya feel unsafe again. At first, she'd just wanted to hold Anya and tease her, but with each consecutive rejection she'd quickly felt a burning need to just make it better. Which, thankfully, Anya eventually let her help with, but it was yet another thing that had been new to her.
Every relationship she'd been in, she'd managed to piss off her boyfriends or girlfriends at one time or another. Sometimes, it was even her fault, she wasn't perfect. However, while she would feel guilt, her usual stance was that time would eventually heal the wounds, that she'd just be better going forward after a verbal apology, and that would be that. But with Anya, there was this pressing need to be close to her, to hold her, to kiss her and find a way to get her smiling again every time she upset the woman.
It was strange, and definitely new territory, but she wasn't opposed to it. She just hoped that with time, the intensity would dial down a little on that front. A part of her felt that she was just scared of being stuck with a time limit, knowing that once the wedding's over with, everyone would go their separate ways, and she liked what was growing between her and Anya. Losing that chance was scary. Another part had her wondering if it was because so many of her previous relationships were either mostly or purely physical, and that it was the sudden emotional connection with Anya that was making things more intense than usual.
A part of it, she knew, was the recent revelation that Anya was trans, like her. There was just something about knowing that she wouldn't have to put up with some of the standard issues cis folks had with her and other trans people that made her so much more comfortable around Anya. If she'd trusted the woman before, now it was on another level, and the casual acceptance Anya had offered her had Clarke's chest feeling light just thinking about it.
It hadn't been ideal. Honestly, she'd wanted to come out to Anya for so long, but every time, something was going on, there was some sort of crisis or concern, and she had to prioritize Anya. And when Anya had come out, the woman had been so caught up in her worries about her desirability and inexperience that Clarke coming out would have been a risk. And Anya had needed safety, which she'd been happy to give, and happy to foster the previous day. Feeling Anya relax in her arms, so much of that tension falling away, it all had Clarke feeling like she could do anything.
Either way, she was in deep, especially after Anya's baking lesson. The woman had been utterly bold, and while she'd been used to Anya being blunt with her words before, she hadn't really experienced the woman being bold with her actions or affection, at least not to that degree. The lap-sitting episode in her car had been mindblowingly wonderful, but Clarke wasn't sure she'd ever forget what happened there in her mom's kitchen.
It had been a sad moment when she'd stepped into the shower and washed off the fingers Anya had run those soft lips and agile tongue around. It was only knowing that Anya would be waiting for her when she got out that had been the clincher. Or, more precise, Anya in her clothes, wearing the obnoxious underwear she'd bought on a drunken dare that inexplicably seemed much, much sexier on the other woman, even hidden behind the tee and shorts.
She'd never really been a so-called 'ass girl' in the past, but like hell if she hadn't fallen asleep with her hands on Anya's behind instead of around her waist as usual.
"I wonder where she is..." Clarke mused openly, letting out a heavy sigh in protest as she sat up and shambled out of bed. Her bedside clock said it was quarter past ten, so it was definitely time for breakfast.
Clarke made her way downstairs, not bothering to be quiet, and somewhat confused at the lack of noise. Usually when her mom had time off, she was in the living room watching something, or had music playing.
Wait a minute... She thought, hearing something off in the distance that sounded like music. Curious, she made her way to the sliding door in the kitchen that led to the backyard, the sound of music getting slightly louder. There were signs of life, two mugs on the patio table, so she headed out to see what was going on, immediately being met by the sound of Juice Newton's 'Angel of the Morning', a sign her mother had brought her relic of a stereo system outside.
"Mom? Are you out here?" Clarke called out as she left the patio and descended into the back yard, eyes sweeping around the area. She stepped past the shrub wall lining the patio edge and froze, a gasp dying in her throat at the sight of Anya, still in her sleep clothes, wearing that super pretty sunhat of hers, working away with her mother in her mom's long abandoned garden.
Her throat felt like a desert as she watched Anya amble to her feet and stretch, all that exposed leg making Clarke's feel like jello. "Dear lord..." She muttered as she held onto a nearby shrub for balance. I guess she got over wanting to present a certain way in front of mom. She always looks so pretty all put together, but there's just...something about her in casual clothes that just...unf...
Clarke wasn't sure how, but she managed to make her way over to the hardworking duo, Anya picking up on her footsteps before her mom, the other blonde shooting her a bright smile.
"Clarke, good morning." Anya noted softly, angling slightly away from the soil and weeds she'd been working in.
Her mom, of course, tossed off her gloves and got to her feet, pulling Clarke into a hug. "Good morning, sweetheart. How'd you sleep?"
"Really well. Even fell asleep after waking up earlier." Clarke stated, earning a surprised gasp from her mother, but Clarke only had eyes for the beauty that was back at work in the foliage.
"That never happens." Her mom noted with an odd amount of excitement.
"Well, I guess all I needed was a bit of a change." Clarke mused happily, finally turning her gaze back to her mom and narrowing her eyes, immediately sensing that her mother was up to something. "What?"
"So Anya tells me she's going to be teaching you to dance."
Clarke groaned, knowing this moment in time would come. Her mother had tried to get her to take dance lessons, but nothing had stuck, much to their mutual disappointment. "Just a little bit. Like, pretty sure the absolute basics."
"If by the absolute basics, you mean teaching you how to waltz, and dance the foxtrot and tango, then yes, Clarke. The basics." Anya piped up as she dug her trowel deep in the soil and pulled out a large weed.
Clarke was pretty sure she went beet red as memories of 'Dancing with the Stars' came to mind, all those alluring and moderately erotic tangos coming to mind. "The...Anya, I can't dance the tango."
"Obviously not, but we have time, and you'll have a good teacher." Anya noted all blasé, like teaching someone to dance a number of styles in the matter of days was a feasible goal. "I taught Lexa, Lincoln, and Octavia. You'll..."
Clarke's eyes bugged out. "Octavia can tango?"
"I should hope so. She did at Bellamy and Gina's wedding with Lincoln. I can't imagine she forgot how since then." Anya continued, starting at yet another weed in her mother's overgrown garden.
Octavia having the patience to learn to dance was difficult to fathom. The mere thought of Octavia being able to learn, while Clarke crashed out, had her thinking that maybe she was in a little too deep. Learning the bare bones of moving herself to music seemed intimidating enough. Being assigned three dance styles to learn was overwhelming, especially given the time constraints.
"I, for one, have full faith in her." Her mom chipped in, drawing a smile to Anya's lips as the woman turned her head towards the duo.
"Thank you, Mrs Griffin." Anya said, offering a nod before getting back to work.
"I should be thanking you, Anya." Her mom insisted, before turning back to Clarke. "We've been waiting for you to wake so we could eat. Anya, is there anything in particular you'd like for brunch?"
"No ma'am. Aside from my nut allergy, I'll be happy to eat whatever is prepared, thank you." Anya answered, focus back on apparently cleaning up the garden.
Clarke stumbled a little as her mother took her arm and dragged her back off towards the house in a brisk walk. "Clarke, where did you find this girl?" Her mom asked in a hushed tone, eyes wide and looking entirely insistent on an answer.
"Her car broke down the day I was set to leave on the road trip. Lexa called and asked if I could pick her up, and I said yes. She lives a little down the road from me, by the coast." Clarke answered, and by her mom's expression, Abby was just barely holding back a cheer as she slipped indoors, her mother closing the door behind them.
"Clarke, she knows how to bake." Her mom started, and she could only sigh, knowing what was coming next, just nodding along absently. "She's teaching me how to revamp my garden. She told me why my hydrangeas kept dying, Clarke!" Clarke nodded again, letting out a hum, seeing right through her mother, who was pressing her on something her and Anya had already admitted to. "Clarke, she has manners, and she's trans like you, and she's beautiful. Please tell me this is serious between you two."
Clarke let out a sigh as she dug in the fridge for fruit and set up a cutting board for the berries, peaches, kiwi, and mango. "I'm thinking blueberry pancakes?" She asked, smiling at her mother's predictable scoff. "Mom, I really like her, it's serious. But don't gush about her being all domestic."
"She's just...she seems like she would be good for you. The last two people you dated couldn't cook or bake, and practically worshipped at the altar of the microwave. There's no harm in celebrating the things she's good at." Her mom argued, sounding a little taken aback.
"And do you know why she's so good at all of that?" Clarke shot back at her mother as she grabbed a knife to start on slicing the peaches. "Did she tell you?"
"She...she told me her parents were abusive and isolated her. That they disowned her for who she is." Her mom stated, surprising Clarke that Anya had talked about her past to her mother so soon.
"So you know they were heavy on tradition and brutally trained her to be the perfect little housewife for whatever rich future heir came along, right? Hell, she probably only likes gardening because she got to actually leave her damn room and feel some sense of freedom." Clarke seethed, only to clamp her mouth shut when she looked over her shoulder and saw her mother staring back all shocked and sad. She'd have to apologize to Anya later for the slip. "She didn't tell you that, then. Well, fuck, don't talk to her about it. Don't bring it up. Just try to forget what I said."
"I didn't know, Clarke." Her mother noted, voice distant, eyes glancing out the window towards the garden.
"I like her, mom. I want to do right by her. And if...if we end up together long term, I wouldn't want her to do anything around the house that could remind her or trigger her to that shit. I'd hire a cleaning service before I'd let her lift a finger towards a vacuum or duster." Clarke ranted, catching herself before she went too far again, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. "Look, let's just make brunch."
Thankfully, her mother seemed to agree with that plan, pulling out the ingredients to make pancakes.
Brunch was exactly what Clarke had needed, the combination of good food and good company to settle her nerves and turn her mind to nicer things. In particular, the way the sunlight coming in through the window made it look like Anya had a halo.
Maybe it was odd, but the sun and earth only seemed to make Anya more beautiful, her hair slightly disheveled, her clothing a little askew, Clarke's golden yellow tee spotted with dirt and the slightest traces of sweat. She was gorgeous.
"What?" Anya's voice broke Clarke away from her thoughts, blushing as she realized she'd probably been staring, by the confused, if amused, expression Anya was shooting her way.
Caught, Clarke ducked her head, teeth making an unbidden descent into her lip. "You're just really beautiful." She let out, halfway surprising herself with the blunt admission.
Anya let out a noise that sounded like the woman wasn't sure whether to laugh or argue. "I'm filthy, and sweaty, and gross. In fact, I should probably shower."
Clarke was quick to her feet, moving around the table to Anya and offering her hand out. Anya predictably rolled her eyes, cocking her head to the side slightly. "Clarke, I don't need an escort to the shower."
She ignored her mother's hardly contained giggles over at the sink and wet her lips. "Humour me?"
Anya scoffed but held out her hand after a moment's hesitation. She looked into those deep brown eyes and saw apprehension and curiosity, holding her gaze as she gently pulled Anya to her feet and brought that long, lithe hand to her lips.
Anya's eyes went wide, pupils dilating slightly as Clarke pressed a kiss to the base of her fingers. The momentary shock gave her plenty of time to loop an arm around Anya's waist and pull them chest to chest, nose to nose.
"You're radiant, Anya. You could smell of manure, be coated in mud, and have just finished a ten mile run, and I'd still want to hold you and kiss you. Maybe that'd mean we'd both need a shower after, but it'd be worth it because I'd get to have you in my arms." Clarke murmured, lightly bonking her forehead against Anya's as she watched the woman's annoyed expression falter.
For all of Anya's usual poise and self control, a few well chosen words were cracking that facade, an eager smile twitching at the woman's lips, ready to brighten up the room. "Clarke, I'm covered in dirt." Anya noted quietly, not quite enough of an objection in her tone to sway the younger blonde.
"You're covered in my clothes, and dirt from my mom's garden that you lovingly tended to all morning. Do you see me recoiling in disgust, Anya? Do you think you shine any less bright right now?" Clarke asked, letting go of Anya's hand so she could cup the woman's cheek. "You're beautiful, inside and out."
Maybe it was all a little forward, but if there was one thing that Clarke wanted to do, it was to help Anya realize that she didn't need pristine hygiene, perfect clothing decisions, or immaculate hair and make-up to be beautiful. The fresh-faced woman in her arms earlier that morning, decked out in sleep clothes and a head of messy hair, was still the prettiest person she'd ever woken up with. That if Anya wanted to put the effort in, of course Clarke would celebrate that and praise the woman's abilities and choices, but that she didn't need any effort to be beautiful.
And maybe Clarke was more than smitten. Maybe she'd started that rare and wonderful descent earlier that morning, and maybe she just wanted to embrace that.
"Clarke, your mother is right there." Anya let out in a hard whisper, even as her eyes kept flicking down to Clarke's lips.
"She knows how I feel about you. You said it yourself, I made my intentions known, but if you need a reminder, Anya..." Clarke started, running her hand up from the woman's cheek and through her hair.
"You're so frustrating. Are you always going to be like this?" Anya let out in a huff, even as her smile spread and her face got redder, blush spreading down her neck.
"Like what?" She asked coyly, bringing her hand back to smooth a thumb over Anya's cheek, nearly melting when that cheek leaned into her touch.
"Romantic." The word came out like a breath, barely audible, Clarke having to strain her ears to register it.
It had her leaning ever closer, nuzzling Anya's nose, knowing she couldn't kiss the woman yet and it was the best she could freely give at the moment. "You bring it out in me."
Clarke heard the hitched breath, felt Anya shift in her arms, but it was the soft press of lips to her cheek that had her both immediately tearing up and feeling like there was lightning coursing through her veins.
She kissed me! Three words bounced through her mind again and again as she caught her breath and shot Anya a beaming smile, arm squeezing tighter around the beauty. Oh my god, she kissed me!
"Your face is ridiculous, Clarke." Anya let out with an amused laugh as she took a half step away. "You're lucky I like it."
If the kiss had her heart blooming with excitement and adoration, Anya reaching up and brushing the joyful tears from eyes had her on the verge of falling from how light and airy she felt, entirely on cloud nine. And with clear vision, Clarke could not only see the bright-eyed joyful expression on her face, but also how Anya was offering her hand out again.
"Seriously?" Clarke asked with a potentially embarrassing amount of hope, unable to keep from giggling at how things had turned out, and what Anya was offering.
"Well, maybe I could have that escort after all, if you absolutely must insist." Anya noted, ducked her head a little, looking strangely shy. It was a hundred percent endearing, and Clarke couldn't help but take hold of her hand.
"I do have to insist. It's a pretty steep staircase." Clarke shot back, knowing full well that she'd be smiling until her cheek muscles gave out.
Anya gestured towards the stairs with her head. "Then I suppose we should get to it. I have a busy day ahead of me."
Clarke cocked her head to the side as she led the way down the hall and to the stairs. "Oh really? And pray tell, what are your plans for the day?"
"I have some shopping I need to do today, and to pick up something from a friend. Then, early evening, I was thinking we could start your dance lessons." Anya explained as they ascended up the stairway. "And maybe if we had time later, we could try some of the pen and paper role-playing you seemed interested in on the drive up?"
While she wasn't very excited about dance lessons, still very much intimidated by the notion of learning actual dance styles, the possibility of having some late-night fun. "Think if I reeled O and Raven over for it, it'd be okay?"
Anya hesitated for a moment, but nodded as they reached the top of the stairs. "If they'd like to, then yes."
"Great! And...any hints as to what you're shopping for? I mean, we'll be leaving with a pretty full cargo area and all." Clarke asked, knowing she could be pushing it, but she was curious. It didn't hurt to be curious.
"It's nothing that will take much space, I promise. It'll all fit in my suitcase, so no added bulk." Anya said, clearly avoiding giving any info, which only had Clarke feeling more curious, even if she would respect her privacy. "What are your plans for the afternoon?"
Clarke considered her options, and came to the one easy conclusion as they stepped into her room. "I think I'll start my first painting. Get it started here, finish it when we arrive at the cape."
"I look forward to seeing it." Anya said with a smile she knew was sincere, stopping at the entrance to Clarke's ensuite. "Well, this is me."
Clarke let out a laugh at Anya's sudden playfulness. It was wonderful, seeing the woman so relaxed and lighthearted, and all Clarke knew was that she wanted to bring this side out of Anya was often as possible. "I had a good morning, Anya."
"I'd invite you in for a drink, but all I have is water, and that would be inhospitable of me." Anya teased, grazing gentle fingers down Clarke's left arm. "I had a fantastic morning."
Maybe she blushed a little extra at knowing she'd played a part in that happiness. "Will I get to see you again?"
Anya hesitated, giving Clarke a long look over. "Be by the fountain at four-thirty. Perhaps I'll join you there."
Clarke just widened her smile, lifted that same hand, and pressed her lips to it, enjoying Anya's sharp intake and shy smile. "I'll see you then."
With that, she let go of Anya's hand and stepped backwards, only turning away once she was at her bedroom's entrance. It was a little ridiculous, and she felt like a teenager again, but Clarke couldn't deny her jubilation. Anya had flirted with her. Anya had been so cute. And Anya had kissed her.
A cheek kiss, but a kiss from a woman to whom kisses meant so much, and were so rare.
Clarke shut her bedroom door behind her and sunk back against it, letting out a happy sigh. No matter what happened, she was pretty sure she had a hell of an evening ahead of her.
And she knew just what to paint.
Clarke placed her brush down and let out a hard exhale, feeling a little drained after working at a feverish pace for the past two hours. Usually, ideas sort of just filtered in slowly, bringing her to paint at a languid pace, and she enjoyed that. It always gave her time to think and react to what she was doing, and where the work was leading her, but this time around, it was like she couldn't even stop to catch her breath.
She'd meant to start the painting today, maybe settle on the base idea and get some initial painting done, but two hours in, and it was well past the halfway mark.
"Can't finish it today, but...well, it shouldn't take long once I'm set up over at Lexa's." Clarke mused openly, happy enough to finish there and finally take a shower to get all the paint off of her.
Clarke made her way out of the extra bedroom she'd used as a studio and down the hall to her bedroom, grabbing some old casual clothes to wear. After all, she'd never been the best dancer, and if she fell, she didn't want to accidentally wreck her good clothes.
She took a quick shower, knowing it was probably getting close to when Anya would be getting back. After their little moment in the dining room earlier, Clarke wasn't sure it'd be wise to leave Anya alone with her mom for any decent length of time. After all, her mom could be a little pushy.
Knowing it'd be hours until dinner, Clarke made her way downstairs and into the kitchen, digging around in the fridge for food. In the end, she decided on some fruit and two of the oatmeal cream cookies, but when she was midway through slicing one of the peaches, she heard her mom come downstairs and shuffle things around in the living room.
It was strange, but not tremendously unusual. She waited until she had her snack before investigating, soon finding herself standing at the entrance to the room, confused out of her mind as to why her mom was digging around in the wall safe.
"Did something happen? Is there some kind of emergency?" Clarke asked, words tinged with the caution she felt at the sight of the safe open, knowing they mostly kept important papers in there.
Her mom peeked over her shoulder and shook her head. "No emergency, but something did happen."
Clarke's chest tightened in fear. "Oh my god, is someone suing you at the hospital?"
Her mother's laugh was a little unexpected, to say the least, which immediately had her grumpy. She couldn't just say something happened and then laugh when Clarke thought it was something bad.
"No, nothing bad." Her mom stated, before stilling. "Aha! There it is."
Quickly, whatever her mom had been searching for was in her hand, and the woman was putting everything back inside the safe and sealing it back up again.
"So...are you going to tell me what's going on?" Clarke asked, feeling a little frustrated now with how evasive her mom was being. Usually she was more to the point.
Abby just sat down on the couch and patted the cushion beside her. Rolling her eyes, Clarke crossed the room and plopped herself down on it, eyebrow cocked in question as she waited for answers.
Her mom took a deep breath, then took hold of Clarke's nearest hand, slowly unfurling it. Clarke frowned in confusion, but when she felt what her mother pressed onto her palm, she rocketed up to her feet, pulling her hand away. "Mom, NO!"
"Clarke..." Her mom tried to offer some sort of soothing tone that was probably meant to get her to negotiate or calm down, but she was beyond that.
"Mom, put grandma's ring away! What the hell are you thinking!"
"I'm thinking that this girl is..."
"...the girl I've known for less than a week, mom! You don't just get to..."
"...who is 'beautiful inside and out', who you're 'serious' about, and..."
"...throw an engagement ring around! And stop quoting me! You don't get to quote me when..."
"...you know that your father proposed to me after three and a..."
"...you're only thinking...oh my god, I know! Three and a half weeks! Whatever!" Clarke couldn't deal with it anymore and stormed out of the living room with her plate of snacks, her mother in hot pursuit.
"Clarke listen to me..." Her mom started again, but it was too ridiculous. She loved her mom, but the woman could be the most absurdly dramatic person in the world sometimes.
"No, you listen to me, mom! I've known her since Friday morning, and you dropped a fucking box holding grandma's engagement ring into my hand. Do you get how ridiculous that is?! Dad hasn't even met her!" Clarke yelled as she charged into the kitchen, slamming her plate down on the counter. "What are you thinking?!"
Her mom's pace slowed, stopping at the other end of the kitchen island. The older woman stared her down for a few moments, as if to request she calm down. And alright, Anya would be back soon, and she didn't want any evidence that she was worked up, because then Anya would ask questions, and she wouldn't want to lie.
"Clarke, I didn't mean to spook you." Her mom started again, earning a quick, sharp scoff for her effort, which just had her mom shooting her a frustrated glare in return. "You visit once, maybe twice a year. You're busy. Who knows where this relationship with Anya will take you? You said you're serious about her, that you want to do right by her. I'm not saying I want you to propose any time soon, but I've never seen you look at anyone the way you looked at her earlier."
"Oh my god, mom, that was kind of a private moment." Clarke interjected with a groan, which had her mom pulling out her phone. And okay, maybe it wasn't private, but still, her mother shouldn't have been snooping. Her mother especially shouldn't have taken pictures or video. "Mom..."
"I might have taken a video. But anyway, I've always said you inherited your father's eyes. And I saw something very familiar in yours when you looked at her. Now, again..." her mom continued, raising a hand when Clarke moved to speak. "...again, I don't expect you to get engaged. It might not even work out. But I want you to be prepared if it does, and you wake up one day knowing you want her by your side for the rest of your life. I want you to be able to have a ring nearby, and not have to travel all the way over here to get it. If you want to propose, I want you to be able to, because I know you. You're thoughtful, and smart, but you're impulsive, too. And let's face it, upbringing or not, she'll want the romance of a ring."
Clarke let out a heavy sigh, then bit into one of the oatmeal cookies. "It's just really fast, mom."
"You're a Griffin, honey. Hell, almost everyone on both sides of the family have moved fast. Jake's parents met one weekend, didn't see each other until the next, and married then. Sure, it was during a war, but still." Her mom stated, retelling a familiar tale. "Your other grandparents only knew each other for a month before they got married. Your Aunt Callie and Uncle Duncan got engaged on a dare at the party they first met at. They're still going strong twenty-three years later."
Clarke nodded along begrudgingly. "Okay, I get it, I get it. We rush into things. We tend to be good judges of character. It's just...I told her I was into her on Sunday, mom. We've barely just begun whatever we have together." She stated, letting out another sigh as she leaned back against the counter. "And you're right. In a few short days I'm starting to fall head over heels for her, so I get it. But we have a wedding to get to. We have so much left to do. I haven't even kissed her yet. That thing's going to weigh heavy on me."
"So I'll put it in your suitcase, then." Her mom shot back with a widening grin, only to break out into a huge smile when the sound of the front door opening met their ears.
"Mom, behave yourself! We are not done with this." Clarke whispered harshly as she made her way out of the kitchen and down the hall towards the foyer.
Anya was still taking her shoes off when Clarke caught sight of her, a cardboard box under one hand, and a large white tote-like shopping bag resting beside her.
"Hey, baby. Can I help with that?" Clarke asked, making a beeline for the white bag, only for Anya to kick her last heel off and lift the bag out of Clarke's reach.
"Sweet words won't trick me into showing you what I was shopping for, Clarke." Anya said with a stern frown that didn't quite reach the amusement shining in her eyes.
"No, but at least now I know it probably has something to do with me." Clarke shot back with a grin, wiggling her eyebrows.
Anya's laugh was music to her ears. "It's something for when we're at the cape. Don't fret too much over it."
"I suppose if you're not going to show what you bought, then I'll have to keep my painting under wraps." Clarke suggested, looking to see if she could strike some sort of negotiation.
Anya just stared flatly at her. "I suppose so. I look forward to when it's finished...and I imagine by then, you'll have seen all of what I bought." The woman said, eyebrows lifting as Anya backed away towards the staircase. "I'll be down to properly greet you in a few moments, Clarke."
It wasn't as if Clarke was new to relationships or affection or any sort of romantic intimacy, but like hell if she didn't stay right where she was as Anya ascended up the stairs, trying her hardest not to drop her gaze to the woman's lovely backside. And she was still standing in the same spot nearly seven minutes later when Anya made her way down.
It was the clack of heels that first caught her attention, even if her eyes hadn't stopped watching for the woman since she'd rounded the corner. And when Anya did reappear, Clarke had to blink a few times to gauge whether or not she was seeing things. On anyone else, Clarke had the vague notion that she might have laughed, but standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching Anya carefully amble her way down in an eggplant coloured knee length swing dress that was sheer in all the right places, had a stunning waistline, and a gauzy layered skirt that hid the woman's powerful thighs?
Clarke felt like she was back at prom night again, except in her former date's position this time around. When Anya finished her descent and stepped up to her, Clarke honestly had no idea what to do but gape.
"Wow." It was hardly an intelligent response, but it was what Clarke's body could muster, and if the pink tint to Anya's cheeks was any indicator, she hadn't completely bombed it.
"So eloquent of you." Anya teased, rolling her eyes before stunning Clarke by pulling her close, soft lips pressing against Clarke's cheek and breaking her from her stupor.
Clarke just wrapped her arms around the woman and held her tight, unsure for a moment if her legs could hold herself up. "God, I love you kissing me, but if you keep it up, things might fast-track, and I don't want to rush you." She managed to mumble, nose grazing across Anya's shoulder.
"Mmmh, Clarke, you may kiss me. I'd just...prefer our first kiss together be where we planned it." Anya said, immediately filling Clarke's head with ideas. The best and worst kinds of ideas.
"So...this...?" Clarke asked hazily as she pressed her lips to Anya's shoulder, the woman's loud gasp pushing her to turn and press one to the base of her neck. "Was that okay?"
"Maybe...maybe somewhere more private, Clarke." Anya breathlessly answered, a little hesitant as the woman's head tilted towards the dining room.
Clarke didn't even need to look in that direction to understand. "Mom, put the phone away." She called out, hiding her face in Anya's neck.
"You can't blame a mother for documenting important moments, Clarke. It's what we do!" Her mom shot back. "But I guess I can leave you two alone...for now."
She could hear the laughter bubbling up inside of Anya, could feel it bounce around inside her chest and jump up her throat. "You mother...is not what I expected." Her friend spoke between laughs, holding Clarke close and making the younger blonde want to stay like that for the rest of the night.
"My mom's a nuisance." Clarke noted with a sigh, before pulling away enough to meet Anya's warm, delighted gaze. "And you, Anya...you're mesmeric."
She may have only known Anya a few days, but Clarke knew she'd never get tired of making the woman blush, especially when it'd always have her heart doing somersaults.
"It was one of the things I bought today. I'm glad I did..." Anya murmured, her curious gaze giving Clarke a once over. "When I saw you'd showered and were wearing these, I got the idea that you were nervous about dance lessons."
Clarke offered Anya a sheepish smile. "I...might have been concerned about tripping over my two left feet."
Without notice, Anya's arms wrapped around Clarke's hips tightly, and lifted her into the air, holding her there, those warm brown eyes just radiating safety and reassurance. "You won't fall. I won't let you."
Clarke gulped hard, breathing growing a little more laboured as she wondered what those arms could do to her in the future if she was lucky enough. "Y...yeah. Yeah, okay. I trust you."
"So you'll change? Because I should teach you in something close to what you'll be wearing that night, so it all feels familiar." Anya stated, not even seeming to struggle, hardly a strain in her voice.
"I can go change. I'll go change. That...yeah, that makes sense." Clarke answered, prompting Anya to gently lower her down to her feet. "So, um...I'm just curious how you plan on teaching me all that fancy stuff when I'm wearing heels. Because I'm bad enough without them."
Anya just laughed. "I'll be teaching you to lead Clarke. That way, you'll have the basics down, your footwork will be easier to manage, and you'll have me. I'll be able to guide you, and I'll make you look good."
Clarke just rolled her eyes as she pulled Anya into another embrace. "You're so modest, babe."
Anya pressed into Clarke's frame, nose nuzzling the side of her head. "Get dressed, darling. We've got work to do."
Even though Clarke wasn't sure how successful she'd be, she trusted Anya to catch her if she fell. And that certainty, that security, was everything, and had her feeling ready to go.
"Anyaaaa, can we take a break now?" Clarke moaned, giving her partner her best puppy dog eyes and pout in hopes her sore feet could get a minute or two of rest. Or better yet, for the rest of the night.
"Not quite, Clarke. We need to improve your footwork on the turns, it's a little choppy. You're doing well, I'm proud of you, but I want you to have the waltz down before we finish for the night." Anya answered getting them back in position for another go at it.
Clarke let out a sigh and relented. "Can we at least have music? I love your voice, but I'm starting to get tired of your three count."
Anya watched her over closely, bit nodded. "We can have music if...and only if...you take a few run-throughs with me and learn how to move to the music." Anya offered, tongue slipping out to wet her lips. "You said you didn't have very good rhythm, so I thought we'd take it one thing at a time, but if you want music, we can add it."
Suddenly, just about any shred of confidence was sapped out of her. Sure, Anya probably hadn't meant to intimidate her, but for whatever reason, her desire to have music playing in the background didn't register as music to dance to and keep in time with until that moment. To make matters worse, Anya was in control of the music, and the woman was a hopeless romantic, and Clarke wasn't sure how she'd feel dancing to something romantic with Anya.
Or, well, she did know. She'd melt, and with her mom watching on from the kitchen window, that was dangerous as well.
With all of that in mind, there was every reason for Clarke to go back on her word, and decide that they were fine as is for the time being, but to her horror, she found herself nodding.
If Anya was surprised, she didn't show it, just walking calmly over to the nearby table and plugging her phone into the portable speaker system. Clarke could hear the rushing of her blood through her temples as she waited, halfway terrified, for Anya to make her decision.
When Anya turned around, Clarke could tell that maybe she wasn't the only one dealing with nerves, the woman taking a quick steadying breath before making her way back to Clarke as the music trickled into the air. Familiar music.
It took Clarke until they were back in position for her suddenly hazy memory to figure out what was playing, but once the vocals hit, a sense of comfort washed over her. She wasn't a super-fan or anything, but she enjoyed Lady Antebellum well enough, and sometimes when she was sleepy, she'd listen to the song to speed the process along.
"I have it on repeat, so just listen for the beats and tell me when you're ready to start. We're just going to focus on moving to the music first before we venture into dancing to the song as a whole performance, okay?" Anya asked, and even if Clarke wasn't entirely keyed in on the woman's voice, she would have nodded anyways, wanting to impress Anya, but more than that, wanting to just have a slow dance with Anya.
Because that's...that's what this is...like fancier, but...a slow dance...oh god, I'm slow dancing with her... Clarke mused to herself a little feverishly as the lyrics of the song washed over her. Every time she tried to listen to the song and make a count, some words from the song would wash over her and grow the dense pit in her gut.
Because where the song was singing about hindsight, about love missed out on, everything they were singing about, Clarke was feeling etched into her very being. Just standing there with Anya, after their time together, after what they'd shared, after everything the woman had made her feel, it goddamn resonated. The last time she felt anything remotely like she did was years ago with Lexa, but this was so much faster, so much more intense, and it was hard to keep hold of.
Way back then, she thought she'd been completely in love with Lexa, but she was quickly realizing that the currents of her heart ran a hell of a lot deeper than that, and it was hard not to feel overrun by that stunning realization.
"Clarke, are you okay? Should we take a..." Anya started, only to gasp as Clarke turned her head at the utter care in the woman's voice. It was suddenly just overwhelming, and Clarke's body was betraying her as her jaw trembled, and maybe she just needed a moment. "...oh darling, what's wrong?"
The D-word was the proverbial straw for her poor camel-like back, and just like that, unbidden tears spilled forth as she took a shaky breath. "I'm o...I'm okay." Clarke sputtered out with a wet smile, finding it difficult to care just how adoringly she was staring back at her dance partner. "I've just never wanted to dance with someone so much, you know? I really want to dance with you."
It was a half-truth, for sure, or at least a truth masking the words she really felt like admitting, but she couldn't just come out and say she was falling deeply in love with her. She didn't want to scare Anya away, not when they were so new. Her mom was right, so fucking ridiculously right, even if she'd never admit it to her.
Anya wiped away her tears so carefully and shot her a smile so encouraging that the pit in her stomach was erased from existence, as if it had never even been there. "I'm here, Clarke. We're here. We have all night, and we have right now. Just feel the music, feel it with me, and let go. You think too much...let go, darling."
Clarke nodded and just like that, got her posture back, took comfort in the gentle grip of Anya's hand, and found herself moving.
She was pretty sure her movements weren't great, lacking precision and poise, but Anya mouthing along the count a few seconds later, exactly in time with Clarke's steps, had confidence blooming within her. The song finished, and played again, and again, and before she even realized it, Anya was guiding her into turns, and fixing her posture, and helping her relax, with tiny little comments and nudges and bright smiles when she got it all right.
Anya was a glorious teacher, she had to admit, but falling in love made it that much easier to fall into step with the woman, feeling the music and the emotion through her body and expressing it as she danced with a woman she'd grown to care about so quickly, and to such a scary and wonderful degree.
Clarke was sure they were on their ninth run of the song, maybe their tenth, when she watched Anya's eyes flutter closed, lips mouthing the lyrics as they danced effortlessly. How anyone could dance with Anya and not fall in love was a great mystery to her.
She made a mental note to add the song to the playlist at Lexa and Costia's reception.
At the end of the twelfth repeat, Anya came to a halt and went to move her hands away. A jolt of fear ran through her, however mild, but it was enough to get her pulling Anya into a brief hug. "One more? Please, just...one more?"
"You must be tiring of this, Clarke. I know your feet have to hurt." Anya noted with an entirely characteristic amount of worry in her voice. Anya was charming like that.
"If you think I can feel pain when I have you in my arms, babe, you've got a lot to learn." Clarke whispered, giving Anya's waist a little squeeze. "I can hurt later. Unless your feet hurt?"
"You're such a flatterer, Clarke. I think I could get used to that. And I've spent so much time dancing in heels that I could go for hours without pain. If you want one more, I won't deny you." Anya said as the song's intro started up again.
"Thank you, Anya." Clarke murmured before pressing a kiss to her dance partner's cheek, thrilled to know that her lipstick left a visible mark, even with the woman's cheeks going red themselves.
Anya's smile was bright enough to light the entire damn city.
"Always."
As Anya had predicted, her feet felt like she'd danced barefoot on broken glass for a few hours once the music stopped. Anya had helped her to the living room and stripped both of their heels off quickly. Clarke hadn't expected the gentle foot massage, but suddenly, her growing list of reasons to put a ring on it increased yet again.
Anya had left for a moment, returning with a few hardcover books, a small stack of paper, and some writing materials. "I gave Raven and Octavia a call. Bellamy will be driving them over soon."
"You're the best." Clarke noted tiredly, patting the spot on the loveseat beside her. Anya rolled her eyes, set the materials down on the table, and sat down beside her. As soon as Anya was seated, Clarke curled up against her, just wanting to be close; she'd enjoyed touching Anya and flirting with her for a while, but ever since the previous evening, she couldn't get enough.
Thankfully, Anya didn't seem opposed, pressing a chaste kiss to her crown and wrapping her arms around Clarke. "That means a lot, Clarke." Anya let out, though despite the joking tone she took, Clarke could tell there was some sincerity lingering in those words.
And maybe she filed that in her memory as something to check into later.
"So what are we gonna be playing, babe?" Clarke asked, snuggling deeper into Anya's embrace. "Something scary, right?"
"Well, we can choose something else, if you prefer." Anya noted softly, making Clarke feel like it was sort of a reversal of how things began with them. She'd spent days fussing over Anya and ensuring she was comfy and happy as much as she could, and now Anya was doing the same for her. It was more than a little sweet, and where some of her other past partners had felt a little overwhelming in their similar efforts, with Anya, it was effortless and graceful. It felt right.
"No, I'm good with being scared so long as I have someone to make me feel safe." Clarke reminded Anya, earning a huff for her efforts.
"And I make you feel safe?" Anya asked, voice taking on a teasing tone as fingers wiggled a little against her abdomen.
Clarke's response was out of her before she could even begin to filter it. "You make me feel more than I've ever felt."
Despite the utter sappiness, she knew Anya wasn't a hundred percent ready for that kind of a statement, so the woman's laughter was something she'd been on point about expecting. But the bitter tone of it was entirely off. "That's hardly true, Clarke."
Whatever joyful serenity she'd been feeling in Anya's arms, she reluctantly set it aside and crawled out of the woman's embrace so she could talk face to face. "Look, that kind of just slipped out, but I'm being serious."
"Clarke, it's late, and our friends will be here soon to enjoy the rest of the night. Can we please not ruin the mood?" Anya asked, eyes never meeting Clarke's flittering from distraction to distraction. Clarke was about to lay out a detailed rebuttal when Anya let out a sad sigh, a trace of tears along her waterline as she finally met her gaze. "Can we talk about this another day?"
Clarke wished all of the fight left her in that moment, but the impulse to discuss it, to fix the rift in communication, it all lingered. Still, whatever was bothering Anya, it seemed big enough to warrant a delay, even if she wasn't happy about it. "Tomorrow?"
Anya's posture slumped for probably the first time all day, making it all the more alarming. "I...I suppose."
"Hey..." Clarke mumbled as she curled back up with Anya, returning her arms around the woman's waist. "...look, whatever's bugging you, I promise it's not going to change how I feel about you. It's not going to change what I think about you."
"You can't know that."Anya muttered, head shaking, making her long blonde hair feather across Clarke's cheek. "You can't promise that."
"I promise you that everything I've said to you today was the truth. And I'll leave it at that until tomorrow when you feel up to talking, okay?" Clarke asked, watchful eyes focused on Anya, relief flooding her when the woman gave a stiff nod. "Good. Now, let's just relax, baby. Why don't you tell me about this brief little campaign you'll be running us through, huh?"
That, at least, served as an adequate distraction, quickly getting Anya all excited and passionate about a series of federal agents being sent to investigate a lead to a series of disappearances in a fishing town called Innsmouth. Anya was light on the details, but gave Clarke free choice of the available characters, having figured that something pre-made would work best as an intro.
Clarke was happy to get into the character's head a bit, enjoying the hardboiled agent's roots as a detective in Boston, the collection of character vices and virtues, and finding her way to define the unspoken history behind the character's skill set.
Anya had just finished explaining the game mechanics when the front door opened, O and Raven tromping in mid-argument.
"I'm just saying, it's freaking delicious!" Raven insisted, earning an immediate scoff from her girlfriend.
"And I'm saying it sounds gross!" Octavia shot back.
"That's only because you've never had it! Clarke, we're ordering pizza when we get to the cape! Pepperoni-pineapple!" Raven announced with a grin as she entered the living room, her smile and eyes only growing bigger as she took in the sight of the two of them. "Oh, wow, you two move fast."
"Raven, we're not...oh..." Octavia's voice trailed off as she rounded the corner, stopping at the door frame. The woman's jaw clicked to the side for a moment, her hand reaching out and gesturing for one of them to follow. "Clarke, a minute?"
Clarke was entirely comfortable cuddled up with Anya, but she could see the concern in O's eyes and wanted to extinguish it. So with one last gentle squeeze, she untangled herself from Anya and crossed the floor, following Octavia as her friend made her way upstairs and to Clarke's bedroom.
Octavia stayed at the door, so Clarke went and flopped down onto her bed, having a feeling that she'd be having a serious talk, one she was much too tired for at the moment.
"Clarke, we're gone for one day...one day...and we come back to you two canoodling on the couch?!" Octavia asked, thankfully sounding more offended than upset, which meant she was just frustrated of being left out of the loop. Not that Clarke meant for that, it was just that things kind of went by really quickly, and she forgot.
"Cuddling isn't canoodling, O." Clarke protested, though the duvet may have muffled her voice a bit. Knowing O would want her complete attention eventually, she rolled over onto her back and settled up against her pillows. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't call you. It's just...it's been a really great twenty-four hours. Anya...she's just..." Clarke tried to find a word to describe the woman and failed, so she just let out a happy sigh and flopped back against her cushions.
"I get it...we all get it you like her. But it's not like you're in love or anything, so you can stop swooning." Octavia teased, but Clarke couldn't really feel sure about how to respond, because she was falling in love. Whatever hesitation she filled the air with, Octavia picked up on it immediately. "Clarke. Clarke..."
"Octavia..." Clarke started, only for O to march over and plant herself on the bed in front of her.
"Don't you dare use my full name! Clarke..." O started again, raising a hand when she went to interrupt her friend. "No, okay? No! You met her less than a week ago!"
"You don't think I know that? You don't think that twists me up?" Clarke asked, ribs feeling like they were a vise around her heart and lungs.
"It took you years to fall in love with Lexa, and she's your best friend! And you said it yourself, back in high school, you only had a minor kind of puppy love for that asshole that dumped you at prom." Octavia argued, and Clarke didn't have any real concrete counterarguments there.
Still, she knew how she felt. "I loved Lexa with all my heart, but I...I wasn't in love with her, O. Maybe I could have been with enough time, and I really wanted to be. But...this is different." Clarke stated, lifting her gaze to meet Octavia's cautious eyes. "I can't help it, O. I've never felt like this for anyone, and it's so fast, and heavy, and it's so overwhelming, and I don't...I...and..." As words came out quicker and less organized, Octavia practically leapt across the distance between them, pulling her into a hug.
"Damn it, Griffin, you're supposed to be the easy one to peg. And...you're sure about this?" Octavia asked as she held Clarke close.
"Yeah, I...I'm falling in love with her. My mom..." Clarke started, only for Octavia to let out a sharp laugh.
"Your mom has no reason to be mentioned, Clarke. Let's keep this on Anya." Octavia interjected quickly, but she was wrong.
"Look, today's been wild, okay? I mean...look, I'll break it down. Last night when I got back, Anya was baking, and she taught me how to bake without burning things down." Clarke started, earning a surprised hum from her friend.
"That's a fucking magic trick if I ever heard of one." Octavia interrupted again, only to let out a small cough. "Uh, anyway, continue..."
"So she was flirty, and a little brazen, and...god, so lighthearted and carefree. I think that I'd been straddling the fence until then, and that's where this started. Anyway, we went to bed around eleven, and she up and decided to wear some of my old clothes, and...that was just kind of intense. But the biggest surprise?" Clarke continued, hesitating long enough for O to give her a squeeze to show she was listening. "I woke up a little after six to her suffocating in my cleavage."
"Oh my god, Clarke, TMI!" Octavia groaned, pushing away from her slightly, but not far away enough that Clarke wasn't able to reel her back in.
"Okay, whatever, but the thing is, she told me to go back to sleep, and cuddled up with me, and...I fell asleep. I was happily asleep for hours." Clarke stated, taking great pleasure in Octavia's gasp.
Again, Octavia pushed away, enough to look Clarke in the eyes. "Clarke, that's like, rule number three about Clarke Griffin. Wake her up after she falls asleep and she'll have to wait another day to get more. That's...that's your thing, Clarke."
"And with her, it isn't. Believe me, I was as surprised as you. So I'm already confused, and I feel like...deep in my chest, like there's something missing, right? So I stumble downstairs and look around, and I find her in the garden with my mom, still wearing my clothes." Clarke continued with a grin, having fun watching Octavia's expressions shift to become more and more confused and excited.
"No fucking way! She's always so particular about how she looks, there's...how?" O shot back, entirely dumbstruck.
"I have no clue! Mom caught her getting a glass of water, Anya made a note about the backyard, mom mentioned that she could never get her garden to grow, and I guess Anya just...decided to tackle the garden with her. Gave her all kinds of advice and tips. Mom was impressed." Clarke added. "So we had brunch after that, and we got a little flirty again, and I just couldn't help it. Really, O, I can't help it around her. I always want to make her smile and blush and feel beautiful."
"You're such a sap, Clarke. I get it, but you're officially a sap." Octavia added with a laugh, giving Clarke a little shove. "What, you put the moves on her, gave her an Eskimo kiss?"
"More like I told her she was beautiful and she kissed me on the cheek." Clarke noted quietly, ducking her head as the memory of that moment rushed back to her. Maybe she had tears in her eyes again. Just maybe.
"Holy shit...was that your first ki...wait, are you crying?" Octavia asked, voice softening as she leaned forward.
Clarke wiped at her eyes and nodded. "I cried then, and I just...that was the clincher, you know? Like, she kissed me, and the world changed around me. I was done for from the moment her lips met my cheek."
Octavia let out a heavy sigh and crawled over to Clarke's side. "Yeah, I know the feeling. So this is real? You're in love? Does she know?"
Clarke shook her head quickly. "No, she doesn't know, and she...she can't, not yet. It's too fast. Fuck, it's so fast, and I don't want to scare her, O. Like, mom terrified me earlier today just with the idea of setting it in stone and all."
"What do you mean? Your mom want you two to go on a date so you could ask her to be your girlfriend?" Octavia probed, looking surprised when Clarke shook her head and got off the bed.
She went over to her dresser and opened the top drawer, pulling out a small box that immediately had Octavia squealing and shrieking like a banshee. "CLARKE! WHAT THE..."
"Octavia, mom's sleeping! Shush!" Clarke chided, wagging a finger at her obnoxiously loud friend, even as she crossed back over to the bed and returned to her spot. "But yeah. She gave me grandma's ring. 'Just in case', she said. And at the time I freaked out, I was yelling at her, telling her she was out of her mind, but...as the day went on..."
"It started to feel more comfortable. More understandable." Octavia finished for her, with a slow, dazed nod.
"Yeah. And that's terrifying in itself, O. That I could even consider proposing to someone I met less than a week ago. That I actually worry about proposing by the end of Sunday night." Clarke let out as she leaned into her friend, Octavia wrapped an arm around her immediately.
"Shit. Well, I call dibs on maid of honour for at least one of you two." Octavia halfway joked, Clarke knowing that Octavia would literally fight for the title if it came down to that.
Clarke just hugged Octavia. "So can we head back downstairs? We were getting ready for the game Anya brought over."
"Oh, shit, yeah. We should go do that." Octavia spoke as she sat up, though she stilled for a moment as her eyes glanced over Clarke. "Though, uh, what's with the fancy get-ups? You and Anya look like you came back from prom night."
Clarke nodded along as she got to her feet. "God, she's so fucking pretty in that dress. But yeah, she started teaching me to dance. We learned to waltz tonight, and she thought it'd be best if we wore something like we'd be wearing at the wedding."
"Mmmh. Makes sense. She's a damn good teacher. You actually learned how to dance?" Octavia asked, stepping out of the bedroom.
"Yeah, by the end of the night I was asking her for one more dance." Clarke admitted, feeling blood rush to her cheeks.
"You're so done for. Holy shit, this is amazing!" Octavia cheered, patting Clarke on the shoulder. "I'm with your mom. If you feel it's right, get it done. Put a ring on it."
Clarke just gave O a light shove and shot a playful glare at her, hoping her friend wouldn't try to play matchmaker and get them into any kinds of shenanigans. "Quiet you."
Still, as she stepped down the stairs, the words of that song came back to her, making her wonder what things could have been like if she and Anya had met during the holidays years ago. Because if they had, and she knew then what she knew now, then yeah. She would have fallen in love. And maybe they'd already be married.
It was a nice, comforting thought, and as she re-entered the living room, Clarke made a bee line for Anya, settling right back into where she'd been earlier, pressed a soft kiss to the beautiful woman's jaw before getting entirely cozy.
Maybe she was done for, but as far as she was concerned, that was pretty close to the best case scenario she could have hoped for. Feeling entirely content, Clarke settled in for a night of fun and games with some of her favourite people.
A/N: So I needed fluff, and since I wrote a bunch of this chapter the day I finished the previous one, and this was the fluffiest work I have currently, I figured I'd keep going.
Hope you all enjoyed! Thanks for reading :)
references:
Song they danced to was "If I Knew Then" by Lady Antebellum