Chapter 4 – Magical Salve

"Clarke," Lexa asked, knocking her sunglasses down from the top of her head. "Did you ever see your mom about your arm?"

Presently they were walking side by side down the path in Central Park. It was a beautiful Sunday morning, possibly the nicest day they'd experienced in weeks. So, of course, the park was crowded. Bikers, joggers, and walkers meandered past them at several different paces. They were near Fifth Avenue where the foot traffic was heavy, so they set out to find a path less traveled, constantly conversing along the way.

"Yeah, actually," Clarke nodded. "Her hospital is only a few blocks over, and she snuck me in pretty quickly after I called you."

"Good, I'm glad," she grinned. Clarke was quickly realizing that Lexa's smile suited her much better than any scowl. They didn't always last long however, and her expression turned into one of concern. "Did you need stitches or anything?"

"No! Which was the weird thing. Had you not put that magical salve on it, my mom says it wouldn't have healed so quickly."

"Magical salve," Lexa scoffed. "The word you're looking for here is antibiotic cream."

Clarke knew perfectly well what antibiotic cream was. She was starting to wonder if it was getting weird, her insinuating Lexa had some sort of special power. Well, probably not. It wasn't like Lexa caught it, either. At this point it was just fun to see if the she'd pick up on Clarke's wording.

So far, she was oblivious.

"Alright, alright. But it's healing, and that's what matters. I just want to be able to lift my arm to paint," Clarke huffed.

"It wasn't broken, though," Lexa pointed out, noticing the lack of a brace. She looked downward in the direction of the arm, so Clarke held it out for the other young woman to inspect. A finger nearly touched her skin, and Clarke was already anticipating goosebumps. Lexa had since respected her personal space since the last night, however, so she really just looked at the edges of a new bandage placed there. Lexa tilted her head. "It's so bruised, still."

Trying not to show that the near-touch had affected her, Clarke put her arm down. She was only ticklish, really. Sensitive skin. If Raven had a gentle enough touch, she'd probably make the hair on Clarke's arm stand up, too.

Probably.

She glanced away but told Lexa that it was hurting much less, and Lexa told her she was glad to hear it.

Lexa's dress billowed in the breeze that blew past them. The fabric reached somewhere between her upper thigh and knee. It had been pretty cold for the entirety of the school year, so Clarke had barely ever seen Lexa around in clothing that revealed so much of her skin. She'd soon discovered that the other girl's long legs were just as tan as her arms, colored evenly and spattered with freckles here and there. The leather jacket accompanying the dress made the outfit look a little more like the Lexa she was used to, and Clarke supposed she was mostly taken aback by the prospect of the girl actually wearing white. It'd taken her a full minute to recover when she'd first walked through Clarke's apartment earlier.

Lexa, it seemed, was versatile. In more ways than one.

Their first encounter was so long ago that Clarke had forgotten just how much Lexa's appearance contrasted with her true demeanor. After she'd called Raven and calmed down, she realized that she and Lexa really just had, weirdly, an incredibly compatible friendship. It was probably the fastest she'd taken a liking to someone, and that was really saying something for Clarke.

It was beginning to delight her to no end, how easy it was to talk to Lexa. They hardly noticed the people passing by them on their walk anymore and, giving up on their search of finding a more private path in the park, they wandered aimlessly and kept chattering away.

"So this final project of yours," Lexa was saying in response to the latest turn in their conversation. "Does it have to be about anything in particular? Like, any specific subject?"

"Kind of," Clarke shrugged one shoulder. "It's complicated. The professor told us to pour our hearts into something, make it beautiful, and then told us not to turn it in unless we knew it was something we were really proud of." She caught Lexa's eye. "Basically, the lesson is to love what we create, wholeheartedly."

"That's kind of sweet," Lexa said, holding her gaze. "Truthfully, I've never been great at art. I was always scared the teachers would hate whatever I tried to make. I think they probably did," she added and crinkled her nose.

Clarke's eyes lingered on the movement. "I'm sure they didn't. That's the great thing about art. You can work as hard and long on a project as you want, and it can still come out shitty, but it'll mean something to you. If you like it, that's all that matters. My professors, at least, recognize dedication and love for a subject when they see it."

"As a C+ art student, it sounds way easier coming from your mouth," Lexa remarked and finally looked away. Clarke refocused her gaze to the path in front of them. They stepped aside to let some bikers pass and continued on.

They talked further as the path wound around. They saw some dogs chasing Frisbees and decided to wander off and stop in the grass for a short bit. Hot from the sun, Clarke led them to a relatively underpopulated area where a large, blossoming cherry tree offered them some shade. A few pink petals littered the ground, and Lexa sat promptly in a pile of them, cross-legged.

"This tree bloomed a few weeks early," she told Clarke. Lexa must've noticed the raised eyebrows (of genuine curiosity, might she add), and explained, "I really like flowers."

Her hair was done up in two French braids, not a lock out of place. Clarke would kill for hair that easily tamed. She kind of had a weird fascination for how effortlessly Lexa seemed to be put together. It was just an artistic kind of beauty she could appreciate. But then, Lexa was tugging her hair-ties out, and shaking out brown waves that were tumbling down her shoulders. She laid down in the flower petals, closing her eyes as her hair fanned out extraordinarily underneath her.

It was an absolutely breathtaking scene to behold. Clarke looked away to focus on something else, anything else, but, purely from an artist's perspective, she couldn't help but regard again the beauty of the scene before her. It really wasn't fair to be born with a face that attractive. Lexa looked like one of those women carefully posed and instructed behind a camera lens, with wardrobe colors strategically chosen to aesthetically compliment her background. Her artist's mind took over, seeing Lexa's form in brushstrokes and vibrant colors of paint.

She realized she was staring too long. Lexa called, "Clarke?"

She was peeking at her out of one eye, gaze a little concerned.

"Sorry, daydreaming," Clarke excused herself. Still caught up in the images flashing before her, she laid down next to the brunette.

Clarke decided that perhaps what she'd earlier mistaken for attraction was probably jealousy. Though she realized she probably sounded like a broken record, she really thought she'd never seen anybody so put-together in her life. She definitely envied Lexa there.

"If you like the dress, I can show you where I got it," Lexa offered, misreading Clarke's gaze entirely.

She almost laughed it off. Truthfully, it wasn't the first time Clarke burned a hole through somebody, imagining herself recreating the image of them and the feeling they gave off on canvas. She had never attempted to clarify before, and she wasn't about to start now. "I don't think I could afford it."

"You just have to know where to look, and find the sales," Lexa insisted. Her eyes where shut again and she was leaning with her arms underneath her head, spreading out. She looked as though she could take a nap right there. "Did I mention, before, that I originally wanted to go into fashion?"

"I thought you were always set out to be a lawyer, like the rest of your family," Clarke said, and looked over at Lexa.

"Nope," she sighed. "There was a brief moment, my senior year of high school, where I wanted to do something I wanted, for once. Not listen to my family and their preconceived ideas about where I should end up."

"So, what happened?"

Lashes fluttered and eyes peered over to Clarke. With a smirk, Lexa replied, "Remember? I can't draw for shit."

Clarke held her gaze, her smile sad. "Aw come on, Lexa. If it was what you really wanted to do, you should've gone for it anyway, and I'm sure they'd would've helped you learn."

"You know, I thought about that possibility halfway through law school. But, I grew to love the major I chose, too. It's just a little late, is all," she said and closed her eyes yet again. "I've thought about maybe returning to school if I want to in the future, but it's expensive, and with a degree in law… It's a little weird, that pair of majors, right?"

"Not if you love both."

"I suppose."

Clarke rolled over towards Lexa but stopped on her stomach, leaning up on her elbows. She attempted to make Lexa feel better. "Maybe you can teach me how to shop sometime. I could try to teach you to draw."

"You'd do that?" Her eyes opened again, never finding an appropriate moment to stay closed. She was still on her back, so Lexa lifted until she was on her elbows too. "Really? And you want to go shopping together?"

Clarke felt her own mouth curve into a grin and she nodded her head. "It could be fun. I get my paycheck from work this week, so we can shop any time after that."

"Sounds like a plan," Lexa beamed and sat up fully this time.

Clarke joined her, cross-legged on the grass and tried to stop her smile from turning mischievous as she noticed more than a few petals had got themselves tangled in Lexa's curls. It only made Clarke want to paint more. She sniggered, unable to control herself, as she considered not telling Lexa of the petals. Clarke imagined having them walk around the city all afternoon like that.

But Lexa was staring at her, lips just open in concentration, and Clarke's train of thought was lost. Her hand was moving forward, reaching out to Clarke, invading her personal space again. Her breath caught in her throat, a shaky demand of what her neighbor was doing on the tip of her tongue, when Lexa's hand stopped to pick a petal out of Clarke's own hair. Get ahold of yourself, Griffin.

"Clarke," she murmured, almost admonishing her. "You've got these all over you."

"You too," she told Lexa, and when the other young woman pouted, Clarke felt laughter bubbling out of her chest.

Lexa continued to look put out for half a second, but when Clarke started trying to remove the petals too, she softened. Shaking their hair out proved to remove most of them, but a few were still stuck on Lexa. She reached her hands to comb through brunette waves with her fingertips, unthinking. An apology was already on her lips, but then Lexa was reaching around her to shake the last of petals from Clarke's hair too. Sure heat displayed itself on her cheeks, she swept one last, futile time through the ends of dark tresses, reveling in how Lexa's hair felt just as soft as it looked.

They leaned back from each other. While she was thinking of something clever enough to diffuse the tension between them, Clarke's stomach grumbled loudly and broke the silence for them.

Lexa quirked an amused eyebrow. "Hungry?"

"Maybe." Clarke turned away to locate a certain food truck (and definitely not to hide her embarrassment). "How do you feel about gourmet hot dogs?"

Lexa's eyes followed to where she was pointing. She trailed behind Clarke as they stood and made their way back to the path. Bikers were whizzing past in a small group causing a few passersby to step off the walkway in order to give them space. Clarke started to tell Lexa about the food truck she visited frequently, describing that they offered unique condiments and sides, rather than simple ketchup and mustard on buns.

They could already smell the cart a few feet away. Clarke's stomach decided to vocalize its needs once more, so she hurried and ordered before it could betray her again. She hoped she wasn't inhaling the hot dog too fast, as she'd definitely forgotten to eat breakfast. But then she realized Lexa was finishing hers nearly as fast.

"S'good, right?"

"Mhm. Amazing."

They both had full mouths and kept walking. "I've been to this cart so many times. It's, like, my favorite. Seriously, they're the best in the city."

"So if these are the best hot dogs in the city, and New York City has the best hot dogs in the world, then by that logic-"

"These are the best hot dogs in the world," declared Clarke. "There's nothing that can satisfy a hungry stomach in the park better."

"They're certainly the best I've had. I've never heard of anything like them." Lexa agreed and finished hers.

Clarke was savoring the last bites of her food, half-wondering how ashamed she would be to go back and get a second. She turned around to glance at how far they'd strayed from the food truck when she realized a biker was barreling towards them at a harrowing speed.

It all went in slow motion from there; Lexa obliviously trying to get Clarke's attention for something, the biker realizing his path was not clear, and Clarke yanking Lexa's elbow hard. The biker seemed to tap on his brakes, but infuriatingly yelled at the two girls to get out of the way. Clarke, of course, lost her footing trying to do just that. Her hand was still wrapped around Lexa's arm, but apparently Lexa was a little more coordinated than her. Expecting to hit the ground hard at any second, she was surprised when she opened her eyes moments later, hanging in midair.

What?

Clarke blinked up at Lexa, who was holding her up halfway from the ground in a sort of dip. The ends of brunette curls tickled her face. A surprisingly sturdy grip was wrapped around her waist and underneath her back, holding her up. It was a wonder she'd had the strength to prevent them both from tumbling.

This was unexpected. "Whoa."

"You good?" Lexa frowned and looked in the direction the biker went. "What a dick."

They righted themselves and adjusted their own clothing. Clarke silently cursed the fact that she was never anything but clumsy in front of Lexa. Was it possible to act normally and not make a complete fool of herself? Just, like, once?

"Your reflexes," Clarke started, her voice alarmingly high-pitched. "What the fuck?"

Lexa smirked at her response. "Would you believe I actually go to the gym?"

"I mean that explains how strong you are, but like, you handled that much better than me." Clarke shook her head, and then looked down with a grief-stricken expression. "Aw, seriously?"

Lexa glanced down at the abandoned last bite of Clarke's hot dog. It was a tragedy, really. Even if it literally only cost her $3.00, there was nothing like the final bite of a food that was making half your morning better. It was probably embarrassing to look this heartbroken over a goddamn hot dog, but Lexa apparently understood. She at least tried to hide her amusement at Clarke's utter disappointment.

She tugged Clarke's arm and said, "Come on. I'll buy you a new one."

Clarke had never looked so gratefully at someone in her whole life.

After they'd had their fill of Central Park, Clarke got Lexa back by paying for ice cream. They talked endlessly about life, what was going on in each of theirs, and other random things. Lexa learned of the coffee shop Clarke worked in. Clarke learned more about Lexa's family business that she was to take over, and that Lexa was content to rebel in little ways against her family for planning her future out for her. Hence the punk outfits, Clarke assumed.

Soon enough, they were headed back to their apartment building. Clarke remembered her own punk phase growing up, so she dared to share awful old pictures with Lexa from Facebook where she'd clumsily applied eyeliner on herself. It truly gave her a terrible image, as a teenager. Thankfully, it really was just a phase, mom, and Clarke came to her senses. Lexa, it seemed, gave more thought to the look and it truly worked for her. Clarke was shown pictures of how her neighbor looked in high school as well, and she was utterly shocked at how normal Lexa looked - as if the punk stage just came later in life. Her face was free of any makeup, and Clarke was in awe of how beautiful she looked even then.

"I seriously love your lipstick, though," she admitted once they started talking about makeup again. "Dark colors are awesome, but I've never been able to rock that look...as you've seen."

"Nonsense," Lexa waved her hand. "Everybody looks good in dark lipstick. You just have to believe you look awesome and that's what makes it work. Total confidence. Fake it 'til you make it."

"Look good, feel good. Except the other way around," Clarke affirmed. "Maybe you're right."

"Of course I'm right," Lexa said with a scoff and a smile. "Wait here."

Clarke raised an eyebrow at her but remained on her couch, pausing the Netflix that been on the background absently. They weren't really watching it, so she supposed it didn't matter. The brunette soon returned with her hair pulled back in a bun and something in hand. It was soon revealed to be an array of lipsticks.

"Alright, which do you like best?"

Clarke looked at her, mouth agape in wonder, and looked down at the vibrant colors to choose from. There were several pinks and purples to choose from, but she was drawn to a particular deep red. She pointed to it and Lexa nodded, setting the others on the table.

"Perfect," Lexa said and dropped on the couch next to Clarke. She opened the cap and Clarke realized it was the kind where you applied it with a separate handle, much like nail polish. "Do you have much experience with these?"

"Not at all," Clarke answered. On the off chance that she wore lipstick, she'd just used ones that worked like lip balm sticks.

"Hold still, then. I don't have a portable mirror with me." Lexa leaned forward and used long fingers to hold Clarke's jaw in place, instructing her to pout her lips out a bit.

Looking at Clarke's lips in concentration, Lexa's measured exhales came in little puffs against her cheek. The lipstick was being steadily brushed onto her lips, and Clarke was willing her heart to stop whatever wild thrumming it had started in her chest. Well aware that she was not immune to close proximity with pretty girls, she wished she would at least calm down a little. For heaven's sake, it was only Lexa.

She tried not to concentrate on the way Lexa's mouth was mirroring hers, as if she could keep Clarke's lips steady just by keeping hers open. She also tried not to focus on the way Lexa's breath was warm and smelled like the vanilla ice cream and waffle cone she'd had earlier. Clarke especially was not thinking about the way Lexa's thumb on her jawline was threatening to give her goosebumps again.

But then Lexa was smirking in satisfaction and her hand was gone. Her voice brought Clarke's attention back from whatever train track it'd derailed off of. "Want to look in the bathroom mirror? It's good."

She nodded, not trusting anything intelligent to come out of her mouth. They stood up from each other to go to the bathroom mirror and Clarke looked at herself in amazement. Lexa came in behind her and smiled, confident she'd done well. Clarke wholeheartedly agreed.

"You can keep this color if you want," Lexa said, pushing the tube of lipstick into her hand. "I have plenty more, and it works better for you than it does me."

"Oh, I doubt that," Clarke said. The idea was incredulous; Lexa probably looked good in any shade of lipstick.

"Really, It's not my favorite," she replied. "On myself, that is. I kinda love it on you."

Clarke physically glared at herself in the mirror to prevent any color rising to her cheeks. It nearly worked. "I'm sure it looks great on you."

"No really, you should see," Lexa shook her head. She reached over to get a makeup wipe from behind the mirror and quickly made the color on her own lips disappear. "Here, you try putting it on me. Two reasons - Firstly, that this is going to prove that it looks way better on you. Secondly, you should get the hang of trying to put it on. Not that it's too hard."

"I am an artist you know."

"Doesn't every brush have a different feel?" Lexa pointed out.

"I suppose," Clarke said and shrugged one shoulder. She doubted it would be that hard to apply lipstick.

But suddenly she was distracted because it was happening again. Lexa leaned back against the counter and Clarke got as close as she dared, leaving an appropriate amount of space between their hips. She opened the lipstick and wiped the excess pigment on the sides. Now came time to place a hand under Lexa's chin to tilt it up, and then she was concentrating on dabbing the color across patient lips. She was definitely too busy preventing herself from trembling under pressure to notice how warm and soft the skin under her hand was. It really proved to be a little more difficult than she thought – applying the lipstick evenly, that is.

"The consistency is different from the regular paint I use, I'll give you that," Clarke whispered, making sure the highly pigmented lines where neat and clear. She leaned back and released Lexa so they could turn towards the mirror. "How's that?"

"See? I knew you could do it," Lexa nudged her with an elbow. She tilted her head from side to view Clarke's handiwork.

"I still disagree with what you said before. We both look good," Clarke concluded. She mimicked Lexa's display in the mirror, the both of them dissolving into giggles when it became a competition to see who could make the strangest face.

"Ooh, that's hot," Lexa pointed at a particularly unruly face Clarke was making that involved some sort of cross between a Joey Tribbiani "How you doin'?" look and a simper.

"Okay, hold that pose," Clarke demanded when they both looked truly unattractive, whipping out her phone.

Each of them posed for the camera, and Clarke held down her finger on the trigger long enough to get a few shots of them losing it any pose they had planned. Lexa argued, "Don't you dare post anything."

"You don't even follow me on any social media," Clarke pointed out. "You wouldn't know if I did. Besides, I'm just going to add this," she said, closing in on a particular photo in which face Lexa was making a seriously unattractive face, "To my phone contacts. So I can see this every time you call."

"Beautiful," Lexa grimaced, but Clarke could see the grin threatening to reveal itself. "Send me those, so I can do that."

They shook their heads at each other, each amused at the other's antics, and went back to the couch to finish a few more episodes of their show. It was an unforeseen, eventful day spent together, and Clarke was once again left wondering how she hadn't gotten her ass in gear to hang out with Lexa earlier.

Later that night, back in her own bed, Clarke would smile to herself as she found notifications on her phone, blowing up from someone with the username Lexa_Woods_20 following her on nearly all of her social media accounts (and a "like" on the photo she'd decided to post).

A/N: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW! I love you guys and appreciate you reading this so, so much. But it's highly likely that I will continue only to post this on AO3 under the username bright_gay_of_sunshine. If you don't see updates here, check back on that please! I'm super excited for what I have planned for this story. Like, this has barely gotten started.

Shout out to the Guest that reviewed the last chapter! You made my day ;)