A/N: Sorry this took forever. It's, like, the longest chapter I've ever cranked out, and jam-packed with subtle fluff. Enjoy, lovelies.
Chapter 7 – The Witch's Doctor
Clarke awakened with her senses overloaded by the intoxicating scent of lavender and the soft feeling of her nose stuck in silky waves of dark hair.
Blinking her eyes, she wrinkled said appendage and noticed that she was, in fact, nestled in a bundle of the stuff. Actually, her whole body had curled into the back of a certain brunette. Her hands were snug between their bodies and tucked in by her own chest to keep warm in the fort they'd constructed the night before. She closed her eyes another moment, reveling in the warmth given off by the living body pillow next to her, content to dream for another long while.
Sometime later, when Clarke could no longer fight the need to wake up, she inhaled lavender one last time and rolled onto her back. This appeared to wake her tired friend, and soon her body rolled to face Clarke.
Lexa's eyes were still closed, but her chest moved up and down at a rate that told Clarke she wasn't sleeping. Her lips separated, a single noise left them. "Ugh."
"Morning," Clarke tried, but her voice was rough and dry. She'd been much too warm in her sleep and desperately needed a drink of water. Lexa groaned in response, and Clarke strangely felt laughter bubbling in her chest. She'd never had the pleasure of seeing her friend wake up, and Lexa's aversion to mornings was making Clarke's aversion to mornings much better. "You awake?"
"No," Lexa grunted.
"Looks like it."
"Shhh," Lexa tried to quiet her. Tired fingertips reached out and tried to close over Clarke's mouth, but they immediately failed their mission and, sadly, hit only the pillow next to Clarke's face.
Clarke smirked at her. "You're hopeless."
"You are."
"Solid comeback," Clarke sniggered and reached out for her phone, stuck under the blankets. "Smile."
"Why?"
"To look nice for the camera," she told Lexa. Clarke moved a little closer so that their heads were resting next to one another and grinned when she received no sassy retort. Worst case scenario, she'd have a lovely picture of her neighbor half-awake and grumpy next to her.
Best worst case scenario ever. Either way, she decided, a picture was being posted before Lexa woke up.
She brought the phone back down from her extended hand and was pleasantly surprised to see that Lexa had, in fact, smiled incredibly and had nestled her head back against Clarke's to pose sleepily for the camera. She still didn't look completely awake, and hadn't moved from her position, but Clarke was already setting the picture as her lock screen.
It wasn't weird to have pictures of herself and one of her greatest new friends to look at every day, she decided. No, not weird at all.
When she was finished admiring her new display, she reached over with the arm nearest Lexa and patted her opposite cheek, trying to wake her up more. Lexa groaned again and just turned away from the offense. Fortunately (or rather, unfortunately), she shifted right into Clarke.
"Stay in bed," Clarke heard, a low mumble directly into her ear. Lexa's nose was buried into her hair and the heat of her breath swept over the short pillow-space between them and heated her cheek. Lexa's lips unintentional graced the shell of her ear, and Clarke physically shivered.
She told herself not to lean into the sound of Lexa's pleading. Get ahold of yourself, Griffin.
Forcibly sitting up, she watched as Lexa curled into the space she left behind. Her heart clenched a little at the sight of her sleeping neighbor, pout back in place and eyes still shut, and Clarke's fingers itched to lay back down and help her wake up, but she knew she shouldn't. She so shouldn't.
"Lex, you have to wake up."
"Why?"
"Because I'm starving and we need to eat," Clarke insisted. She wasn't entirely sure how much wine they'd actually ended up drinking last night, but she was thankfully remembering they'd both hydrated before bed.
A dull throbbing was swiftly spreading throughout her brain, and seemed to get worse the longer she sat up. It was almost as if the headache was trying to convince her to lay back down a moment more, so Clarke decided to oblige. For that reason only.
Safe and further from Lexa on the pillow she realized they'd come to share, Clarke looked over to see that her neighbor's eyes had finally opened, tired green ones looking into bright blue ones. Her pout turned into more of a frown. For half a second, she swore Lexa glanced down at Clarke's mouth, perhaps realizing how close she'd come in her early morning struggle. She made no move to inch away, though, and only looked intensely back at Clarke.
"Clarke?" she asked, eyes big.
"Yes?" Clarke asked and held her breath.
Lexa glanced down one more time and told her, "I can't decide whether I want to throw up or not."
Well. Moment effectively ruined.
Clarke released the breath and looked at Lexa with concern. She couldn't believe where her mind had just gone. Perhaps this was why she never tried to sleepover at Lexa's after their Netflix binges before. "Really?"
Lexa nodded and closed her eyes again with a grimace.
"I don't think we even made it halfway through the third bottle last night, though," Clarke told her. "And I made you drink so much water before bed."
"You did?"
Clarke smirked with a shake of her head, "I knew you were sleepwalking."
Lexa grunted pitifully again in response. Clarke reminded of where the bathroom was. "I'll stop bothering you if you hang out in there for a bit. Just… Anything but puking in the fort, okay? The fort is a no-puke zone."
A little grin finally escaped Lexa's lips at that, and she took a blanket with her to said bathroom.
Clarke could definitely handle hangovers. Raven never really needed to be taken care of, as she was like Clarke and could handle her liquor. Clarke blamed this on their entire college-partying career spent together. They were impervious to nearly everything, especially since they were also well-experienced with being able to limit themselves.
On the other hand, her old friend from high school, Octavia Blake, had never once been able to prevent herself from vomiting the morning after a night out. The poor girl had a tinier figure back then, and her intolerance for binge-drinking always hit her like a truck. She'd taken the girl back to her own house on several occasions, secretly thinking that if Octavia ever had experienced true alcohol poisoning, she knew her mom would be close by to help.
Clarke thought that at some point, her mom had figured out she was helping drunk friends during late shifts at the hospital. One night, she'd taught Clarke the proper way to handle the aforementioned situation if she were ever worried about it, and she hadn't ever been more grateful.
Prior to this instance, Clarke thought that Lexa, on the other hand, could handle her liquor well. Better than Octavia, at least. She'd been a little worried with how pale Lexa looked that morning, though, and decided she better bring a glass of water to the bathroom.
When she'd knocked on the door watched it fall open, she saw that Lexa was sitting on the floor and leaning lazily on the side of the toilet seat, her hand propping up her head. She scowled tiredly at the bowl in front of her, and then up at Clarke. The dark circles under her eyes showed up a little more in the sunlight coming in through the bathroom window. Lexa looked terrible tired, but tried to sit up a bit more when Clarke joined her on the floor, moving aside a bit of the blanket that was brought in.
"How's it going?" Clarke asked softly and handed her the water.
"I still can't decide," Lexa murmured and offered her a half smile.
"You know, you're probably just hungry," she said. "Food usually fixes a hangover, for me at least."
Lexa grimaced and looked at the bowl again, her head dropping to rest on her bicep. "I hardly want to think about food right now."
Clarke instructed her to at least try to drink some water, and Lexa did as told. Before she put her head back down, and while they were facing each other, Clarke reached over with her hands on either side of Lexa's head and started combing her hair back. She used her fingertips and tried to be as gentle as possible, noticing how Lexa's eyes fluttered shut again, and pulled her locks back into a loose bun. In the event of Lexa's stomach revolting, at least her hair would be out of her face.
Eyes still shut, Lexa laid back down on her arm while Clarke retrieved anti-nausea medication. Clarke knew that distractions often helped herself to feel better, so she kept them talking, hoping it would work with Lexa as well. When the pills were taken, she appeared to pick up a little, which relieved Clarke. The meds were helping, and soon Lexa was talking consistently in full sentences.
"You know, Anya did always call me a lightweight," she joked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear that'd fallen out of her bun.
"I never would've thought," Clarke laughed, "Seeing as you're the one who keeps finding all these extra bottles of wine."
"I'm a danger to myself," Lexa shook her head. "I may never forgive me."
"Aw, c'mon. I know Drunk Lexa didn't mean it last night. She just wanted you to have a good time."
"Maybe I'll pardon me, then. She had the best intensions," Lexa sighed and leaned back against the tub behind her.
"Next time, we'll double the water before bed," Clarke decided. She didn't like to see Lexa feeling ill; it did funny things to her heart. Funny, sad things. Like she couldn't even think about satisfying her own hunger for a continental breakfast until she was sure Lexa felt comfortable again. Or, you know, wasn't going to puke her brains out.
After they talked for a while and Clarke calmed down Lexa (and her stomach), Lexa was sitting upright on her own and conceded to follow Clarke out of the bathroom. They went so far as to leave the apartment and walk to a bakery that was just a block over to eat some real food.
Lexa started sniffling a bit during breakfast, blaming it on the change in whether, but Clarke tried not to think about how many times she kept blowing her nose. She was just glad Lexa was feeling better for the moment, and it comforted her to see the other girl eating all the toast she could, appearing suddenly ravenous.
"I knew you'd feel better," Clarke said, finishing the eggs on her plate.
"Thanks for trying to help," Lexa told her, with a smile that brightened Clarke's whole morning. "Because you did."
Clark grinned back.
On the way back to their apartment building, Lexa kept sneezing. Clarke was starting to feel a little less confident in her ability to be helpful, but Lexa would brush her off, telling her that she was fine. She'd barely stopped sniffling when they left the bakery and had a little more color in her, but she looked worn-out again.
Clarke attempted to stop analyzing the girl next to her on the sidewalk for a moment, realizing she was doing what her mom usually did to her whenever Clarke had tried to hide a hangover. Lexa would be just fine; and most likely had spring allergies on top of everything. She probably just needed a nap.
Lexa hadn't been very talkative after they'd finished their food. In actuality, she hadn't been talkative very much the whole morning, but the majority of the time they'd been in the bakery, their mouths had been stuffed anyway. Nagging doubts caused Clarke to follow Lexa inside her apartment when they'd arrived at her door.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Clarke asked her, hovering in the doorway, hand on the zipper of her coat and ready to stay if Lexa needed anything.
"Totally," Lexa nodded, but it was terribly unconvincing. She walked sluggishly over to the kitchen chairs, not quite collapsing in one, but not easing into it either. Trailing behind her, Clarke stood next to her chair.
Before she was aware of doing it, Clarke reached her hand out and held it to Lexa's forehead. Not surprisingly, it was warm to the touch. She was beginning to think there was a reason Lexa had been so warm when they'd woken up together that morning. "I think you have a fever."
"What?" Lexa scoffed. She leaned away from Clarke's hand, not accepting her diagnosis. "That's ridiculous, I never get sick."
"Yeah, okay." Clark gave her a look of disbelief and went in search of the first aid kit she knew was in the kitchen until she found a thermometer. She brought it back to Lexa and held it up to her mouth. "Prove it."
"Clark, really?" Lexa asked, but Clarke only waited for her to give in. She remembered the days when her mother took house calls to visit sick people, and how impatient they were in contrast to her mother. Lexa was just the same, it seemed, reluctant to accept help when she needed it. When the thermometer was taken and returned back to her, it read 99.9 degrees Fahrenheit.
"Oh. Oops," Lexa said dumbly, shrugging when her results were announced.
"Yeah, oh," Clarke mocked her, but eased up. After all, it wasn't Lexa's fault she was sick. With one hand leaning on Lexa's chair, she told her, "Go lie down for a bit. We can cancel art lessons tonight."
Lexa frowned and looked like she wanted to protest, but she gave up, too tired to really give a fight. "Maybe I'll feel better by tonight, though."
"Text me if you do, then," Clarke offered. She knew it was unlikely, and wasn't particularly happy about the prospect of canceling their "art lessons," either.
A few nights a week, they brought out sketchbooks and basically sketched whatever came to mind. That was how Clarke started out, she it was decided she would do the same to teach her friend. If Lexa had questions or wanted to improve her skills on a certain subject, Clarke would gladly help. Some of the time, they ended up scribbling on each other's papers, swapping them, and drawing whatever doodle they could make from the given lines. It was cathartic, in a way, and yet another great excuse for them to spend time together.
When Lexa promised she would go back to sleep and call Anya to come help take care of her, Clarke finally decided it was alright to leave. It took a bit to get her out of the apartment on Lexa's part, but Clarke insisted on making sure she wasn't going to make herself worse.
"I'll text you if I need anything. I'll be fine, though," Lexa said as she shut the door, and Clarke relented and went up the stairs to her own place.
Upon closing her own door behind her, Clarke discovered she wasn't quite sure what to do in her own apartment the rest of the afternoon. Alone.
Most of her free time was spent with Lexa, so she rarely knew what to do on her own anymore. She looked at the pile they'd left on the floor from last night, and decided she could at least take care of that. The fort was cleaned up quickly, pillows and blankets put back in their place. There was some homework she supposed she could finish, so Clarke then decided to focus on that until the late hours of the evening.
From time to time, she glanced over at the tall, blank canvas she'd prepared for her final project. It was a bit nerve-wracking, trying to think of what she would come up with, and the fact that she still had no idea of what to paint this late in the semester was only making her anxiety about it worse. Clarke had an inkling of what she might like to draw, but that overwhelming feeling of needing to get it out on canvas that came with most of her greatest works just hadn't overcome her yet. And still, it was niggling in the corner of her mind that the final project was due in only a week or two.
Well, if there was only one project that she procrastinated on the entire semester, she decided she couldn't be terribly upset with herself. But still, did it have to be the most important project of her college career? Of course it did.
Clarke was excited at the prospect of graduation, at least. As fun as college had been, she was a little over all of the schoolwork. Not only would she finally have completed all her years of school, but soon Clarke would have her art displayed in a proper gallery and have a real chance of employment right out of school, a chance she'd never thought she'd have. Or, at least someone might buy her artwork and give her a small salary to help start paying back her loans.
Clarke was beyond excited for the exhibition. She got distracted, thinking about how she'd have to let all her friends know, if her mom hadn't already shared the news with everyone on Facebook about it. She didn't really check that particular aspect of social media too often, so she wasn't entirely sure. And at least, if there was anyone she would invite personally, it would have to be Lexa.
Clarke then thought how she'd been told to bring a date.
Hmm. Raven was taken, no doubt bringing Anya as her own date, so that wasn't an option. Bringing her mom as a date would be a little weird, and Clarke wasn't sure she wanted to go that route. There was certainly one other person who she'd really enjoy the evening with, though. Clarke thought about the possibility.
Would it be weird to take Lexa as her date? Well, probably not.
When she'd been trying to dissuade her ex-boyfriend's advances, Raven had helped her out and pretended to be her date to several parties on campus that year. It had worked, and Finn had left them alone for the most part. There really wasn't anyone she was trying to avoid this time, so she thought a night out might even be more fun. They could wear nice dresses and do their makeup together – she could see it now.
Clarke nodded, already forming a plan in her head. The only thing was getting Lexa to agree. She didn't think it'd be much of a problem, and Lexa almost certainly wouldn't take it the wrong way (though Clarke wasn't even sure which way she was hoping Lexa would take it).
Though it was several weeks away, she was already earnestly anticipating the night, so she decided to text Lexa.
C: Hey! How're you feeling?
L: Really good.
C: Seriously?
L: No.
L: I think I might be dying.
C: I'm sorry, Lex. I'll let you sleep, then?
L: It's only seven!
C: You need your beauty sleep ;)
L: I feel plenty beautiful right now in my nest of tissues.
C: Well, I never said you weren't. I imagine Anya has her hands full?
This time, her reply was taking a little longer, so Clarke looked back at her assignment book. She checked that she'd completed everything she needed to and sighed. Perhaps she shouldn't ask Lexa about the gallery until she was feeling better. What to do now?
She went over to sit on the couch, scrolling through Netflix on her laptop. She and Lexa had watched most of the shows currently being suggested to her from the other girl's account, and any other ones she might've been interested were already next in line to be watched with her neighbor.
Clarke closed the laptop, resting it on her stomach as she leaned back on the armrest of the couch. It gave her a full view of the giant blank canvas looming against the wall, taunting her, so she rolled on her side and brought her phone out to text Raven.
C: Ray!
R: What up?
C: You busy? I'm free for once.
C: I don't really know what to do with myself :P
R: Aw, does somebody miss Lexa?
C: What? No.
R: Sure thing, hon.
C: Are you busy or what?
R: Sadly, yes.
R: Anya's sick, so I'm on tissue patrol.
C: Sounds… lovely.
R: It truly is(n't).
C: How sweet.
R: Where's your girl?
Clarke hummed at that. As if Lexa was her girl.
Her fingers paused in the middle of a reply, but something dawned on her. If Anya was ill, then who was taking care of Lexa? She erased what she'd been about to write and created a new message.
C: You know, I think I'm going to go visit her.
R: Have fun ;)
Clarke ignored the winky face Raven sent her and put her phone in her pocket, gathering supplies from her kitchen and putting them in her bag, along with her laptop. She grabbed the spare key to Lexa's apartment (which they'd exchanged recently, and Clarke was ever grateful that they rarely had to unlock the doors for each other anymore). A quick trip down the stairs later and she was in front of Lexa's door.
She knocked loudly twice to give her neighbor some warning (an alert system they'd worked out) and opened the door. The television was on, playing some rerun of an old movie she'd never seen and Clarke guessed Lexa was laying on the couch.
"Don't be naked," Clarke called halfheartedly (a phrase they'd started shouting when walking unannounced into one another's apartment). She heard movement and Lexa's head popped up from the couch.
If possible, she looked even more exhausted than she had that morning. Her nose was red and cheeks flushed, and she looked confused at Clarke's presence.
"You didn't answer your text, you know," Clarke told her and came around to the side of the couch where Lexa was leaning, seeing a few tissues fall to the floor. It looked like sitting up cost her friend a great effort. Clarke lifted up the pillow Lexa had been resting on and put it on her lap so that Lexa could lay back down on it, easing her struggle. Clarke put her feet up on the coffee table, where a few more stray tissues were moved away.
"I think I fell asleep for a little," Lexa said to her, but her voice had changed considerably since the last time Clarke heard it. It was all hoarse and gravelly, and the way she spoke sounded like it caused her pain. Clarke combed some of the hair that had clung to Lexa's face back as the girl beneath her shifted more comfortably towards the television.
"I'm sorry if I woke you," she whispered guiltily.
Her hands had a mind of their own and continued playing with Lexa's hair, but Clarke was worried with how warm her forehead had felt when she'd touched it again. She noticed the discarded thermometer on the floor and reached over to hand it to Lexa again. The other girl didn't put up much of a fight this time, and handed it back to Clarke a minute later with a reading of 102.2.
Clarke sent a quick text to her mother, asking if she could deliver medicine for Lexa after her shift at the hospital. Once she put her phone down, Clarke found Lexa staring up at her. She put her own blonde hair in a bun until her friend finally spoke again.
"Why are you being so nice?" she asked, eyes glassy from the fever. Either that, or from the nap; Clarke couldn't tell.
"Because," Clarke told her, and paused. She thought about her answer carefully. "I think you're my best friend."
It was at least one of the two reasons she'd come up with.
Lexa only furrowed her eyebrows, trying to look up to see the truth in Clarke's expression. She tried to clear her throat. "What about Raven?"
"Well, you don't have to have just a single best friend. Even though I know I'll always have her, Raven's always busy these days. So I think I'm allowed to have more than one." Clarke still had best friends from high school, so she knew this to be true. She winked down at the girl below her.
Lexa was fighting back a grin, and Clarke was glad to see her with any expression other than pain. Green eyes stared upwards with a hint of mirth. "If you want to know a secret, I think you're my best friend, too."
What was this weird feeling in Clarke's chest? It was fluttering, filling up her heart in a way she hadn't known she'd needed. There was some weird part of her that needed a hug, right that very moment.
"Stop smiling so hard," Lexa distracted her, grinning cheekily herself. The blush on her cheeks from the fever reddened just a little deeper. A weak hand raised to nudge Clarke's arm so that she'd stop staring at her, but Clarke just continued beaming, pressing her lips together much like an idiot.
When she could gaze into Lexa's eyes no longer without her heart pounding out of her chest, she looked up at the television, escaping the overwhelming feeling to at least squeeze Lexa's hand or something. Clarke was content to keep her hands in her friend's hair, though, and tried to focus on the movie. She didn't exactly recognize it, and asked Lexa what she'd been watching.
"Oh, I have no idea," she told her, pausing to cough into an elbow. "I just couldn't reach the remote to change it."
Clarke saw the remote resting on the TV stand and shook her head. "You're pathetic, aren't you?"
Lexa hit her again and tried to protest, but laughed and was thrown into a coughing fit. "I'm going to get you sick, just for that."
"I took a pre-cold remedy before I came, so I think I'm safe. Anyway, have you been lying on the couch the whole day?"
"Maybe."
"You should try sitting up at an elevated position. It's not as comfy as lying down, but it puts you at less risk of developing pneumonia or something," Clarke instructed. Realizing something, she added, "Jeez, I'm starting to sound like my mom."
"Well, I'm rarely sick, so I guess I could use your advice," Lexa hummed and held the blanket closer to herself.
It was then that Clarke noticed a half-empty bottle of Nyquil on the table. She glanced at Lexa, back to the bottle, and back at Lexa again. "Did…did you drink half of that bottle today?"
"Oh, no. I drank that all right before you came in," Lexa shrugged casually. She was staring at the movie and decidedly not looking at her concerned neighbor.
"Half…Half the bottle?" Clarke asked incredulously and watched Lexa nod. "Honestly, how have you ever survived alone for this long?
"Good question," she replied, seemingly indifferent. "Anya told me it would solve whatever cold I have."
"By OD-ing on cough syrup?"
"Now that I think of it, Anya's rarely sick either." Lexa finally looked at Clarke and stretched out a smile sheepishly. "It hasn't even taken effect yet, though."
"I have no doubt it will soon. Let's move this to the bedroom," Clarke suggested. She nearly blushed herself when Lexa gave her a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows. "You sure it hasn't already taken effect?"
Lexa only laughed again, another coughing fit predictably following. Yeah, it was definitely making a certain someone loopy. Clarke helped her stand up, hand flying around her waist to steady her. She was dizzy, so Clarke walked her to her bed and propped up pillows for her to lay up against.
"I'll be bored in here," Lexa whined uncharacteristically.
"We can watch something if you want me to stay. Do you want me to stay?" Clarke asked, hoping she wasn't intruding too much. Especially with her motherly instincts kicking in so hard. She was told that she could be bossy.
Apparently it wasn't a problem, though, and Lexa nodded. "What else was I going to do tonight?"
"Alright, Pukey," Clarke laughed. She'd brought an extra glass of water and set it by the bedside table.
"I never even threw up," Lexa pouted. "I think the nausea was mostly from the wine. The rest of this is from being stuck in the rain for so long."
Clarke shook her head, standing at the foot of Lexa's bed. "It was partly my fault, too. I'm the one who dragged us up on the roof when it was freezing out. I don't even know how long we were out for."
"Aw, but it was worth it, Clarke," Lexa said, and beamed drowsily at her. "Admit it."
Clarke had to agree. It wasn't often that they got to see a sky full of stars in the city. The whole moment had been kind of romantic, if you'd asked Clarke.
Romantic in a, uh, friendship sort of way. Yeah. Yes.
"Have you eaten in a while?" she asked her friend, who was currently seeing how tightly she could wrap the blanket around herself.
"I had some toast earlier," Lexa answered, distracted.
"That was several hours ago, and I was there," Clarke pointed out. "Good thing I brought you something. Just… stay there, okay? I'll bring my laptop in while you wait."
Lexa seemed terribly spacey, and Clarke suspected she was getting absolutely high off the cough syrup. It would've been extremely laughable had Clarke not been so concerned with her well-being.
She set out to find a pot to cook the chicken soup she'd taken from her apartment in, and it was soon boiling on the stove when she heard a knock on the door.
Surprisingly, she opened it to find her mother standing there, medic bag in hand. "Mom?"
"Hey, hon. Can I come in?" her mother asked expectantly, nonchalantly glancing around in the apartment behind Clarke.
"I guess so," Clarke told her and frowned. "I thought you were just going to drop off some meds."
"Well, Clarke, I can't just give anyone a prescription without a proper check-up. You know that," Abby scoffed and entered through the doorway. When Clarke started to look apprehensive, she added, "Don't worry, I'll be in and out. I won't bug her too much. Besides, I still haven't even met this girl you tell me so much about."
Her mother was looking around the empty apartment again, and Clarke hated the embarrassment in her voice when she asked, "Can you keep your voice down, please?"
It was awkward enough that her mom had come over unannounced, but she totally hadn't prepared Lexa for meeting her mother at all. She could be a handful at times, but Clarke thought that at least Lexa would get the proper care she needed, and after all, she hardly seemed the type to actually take herself to the doctor's.
Her mom did say that she'd be quick. Clarke relented and told her where the bedroom was, also making sure to tell her of the cough syrup her friend had ingested. Abby rolled her eyes at that in much the same way that Clarke had, and it was almost scary to think of how quickly she was turning into her mother.
She only returned to the bedroom to introduce Lexa to her mother, and left as soon as she could so as to tend to her soup. She certainly wasn't going to stick around while Abby analyzed every interaction between them – she'd done it before with people Clarke hadn't been dating, and it had been awkward enough.
Wait, she paused. Lexa still fell under that category of people she wasn't dating. Where had that come from?
It was certainly a hell of a Freudian slip. She shook her head at herself and thanked the heavens she hadn't uttered it aloud.
She tried to think about something else, anything else, while she stirred the soup and let her mother check out Lexa. However, true to her word, Abby returned to the kitchen relatively quickly, content with her assessment. She handed Clarke a bottle of prescription pills from her bag.
"I told her to take these twice a day for the next week," Abby said and gathered her coat around her, zipping it up. "Quite a friend you've got in there. I think she'll be fine. You caught the symptoms of the flu pretty quickly; I'm impressed."
"Thanks," Clarke said, and the smile she gave her mother met her eyes, though she was wary about the way she'd emphasized the word "friend."
"You would've made a wonderful doctor," Abby started. Clarke was about to roll her eyes, but she finished with, "Nonetheless, I know you're happy at the art school. I'm wishing you all the best luck on your finals."
"Oh," she replied. Her mother hadn't usually been so accepting of Clarke's choices, and it surprised her when her mother actually admitted her pride in what she'd been doing. "Thanks, mom."
"Don't thank me, it's all in a day's work. Literally," her mother said and held up her med bag for emphasis. She hugged Clarke goodbye and gave her another few tips on how to take care of Lexa that she already knew, and bade her goodbye.
Clarke shut the door behind her mother and brought the soup she'd been making into her neighbor's bedroom. Lexa was staring mindlessly at the laptop, which was now playing Practical Magic. Clarke joined her on the bed with her own pillows from the couch and handed Lexa the soup.
"Clarke," Lexa stated after taking the pill Clarke handed her, and continued with words slurring a little. "Your mother was here."
"Yes, I know. I introduced you," she said, starting to find High Lexa just as entertaining, if not more, than Drunk Lexa. "How do you feel?"
"Good," Lexa squinted at the soup, reaching a few times for the spoon before she captured it. "Did you make this?"
"Yeah," Clarke told her. She rested her own pillows against Lexa's mound of them and balanced the laptop between the two of them. "Is it good?"
Lexa nodded vigorously though she hadn't even brought the spoon to her mouth yet. Her voice sounded far from normal, but Clarke heard the dumbfounded gratefulness in her friend's voice. "That's so nice of you, Clarke! Thank you."
Clarke was looking at the movie again, about to respond, but Lexa reached over with the hand not holding her bowl to gently bring Clarke's chin closer to her and swiftly gave her a warm kiss on the cheek. Clark froze for a moment, mouth falling open until Lexa let go of her, and looked back at her friend with nervous laughter.
"You're going to get me sick," Clarke tried. It was all she could think of to say at the moment, but Lexa was already completely absorbed in her soup again, not even blinking at the stunt she'd just pulled. Clarke sat beside her, dazed for, well, she didn't know how long, but soon Lexa was handing her back an empty bowl.
Clarke shook her head, trying to snap out of it and not focus on every detail concerning how soft Lexa's lips had felt against her cheek. She failed miserably, and hadn't realized her feet had moved her into the kitchen, or that her hands had set the empty bowl down in the sink, or that her legs had carried her straight back to Lexa's bed before she settled again, deciding to keep herself warm under the covers as well.
She hadn't realized any of this until she looked over and realized Lexa was finally out cold from the medicine she'd taken. It was probably a good thing too, because Clarke was no longer sure she could handle her friend while she was under the influence. It was doing wild things to her pulse.
Deciding she would stay only to watch the rest of the movie they'd started, Clarke settled in and texted Raven, asking if she was having nearly as weird a time taking care of the pair of stubborn sisters as she was.
R: You bet your ass I am, Raven had replied immediately.
C: These Woods girls are something, aren't they?
R: They certainly are.
A/N: Okay so I'm gonna need some major feedback on this one. Did it give you as many feels as intended? Honestly, you could even comment with a GIF of Kermit the Frog flailing about, and that would make me so happy. LET ME KNOW HOW IT WENT, BABES 3
P.S. Here's a special kiss from me to all of the previous chapters' reviewers: xoxoxoXoxOxOXOX
(We're in store for quite a fluff-filled treat soon!) (Also pardon the lack of witch references; they'll return next chapter.)
********Full credits to Instagram user myleashylooo for the picture I referenced in this chapter!