"Lexa, do you know what this means?" Clarke paced the floor, her mind racing with thoughts and ideas.
Lexa responded with something along the lines of "I hope it means you're going to stop talking," but Clarke decided to ignore that for the sake of her sanity. It was far too early to start arguing with Lexa. (She did sneak in an eye roll when Lexa wasn't looking, because it felt necessary.)
"People are alive out there! That means we could be, too!" Clarke emphasized, hoping to draw the brunette's attention, but when she looked back towards Lexa, her head was buried in her hands and an irritated groan was rumbling from her throat. Lexa ran her fingers through her oily hair before bringing her eyes to Clarke's.
"We're not leaving, Clarke." She decided for the both of them, much to the blonde's dismay. She paused her pacing and glared at Lexa.
"Why not?" Her arms automatically crossed over her chest in defense.
"We don't know if it's safe out there." Lexa explained, clicking what looked like a power button on the radio to turn it off.
"Someone is out there. That means it has to be safe." Clarke reiterated, uncrossing her arms to point at the skylight.
"We don't know that for sure." Now Lexa was just being stubborn and Clarke made sure to mimic Lexa's previous groan to call attention to this obstinance.
"How do we not?"
Lexa was far past her patience for the conversation, resulting in another run of her fingers over her scalp. "What if they're in a shelter, like us?" She suggested. Clarke couldn't deny the possibility, but a gut feeling told her the brunette was wrong. "We can't even be sure what those sounds were." Her voice slowly faded as she turned to the radio and placed it on the ground, only making Clarke more angered.
"Turn the radio back on so we can figure it out!" Clarke's voice was steadily rising, a striking contrast to Lexa's calm tone. The brunette only shook her head and sighed.
"We have food. We have water. We have shelter. We're not leaving." The words were final, but Clarke wouldn't take no for an answer.
"Then I am."
Lexa snorted at this, an amused smile coming to her face as she leaned back in her bed. Clarke knew that her own words were empty; she would never go out alone in the post-apocalyptic world. She barely survived being alone before the bombs, though she might have survived longer if Lexa hadn't robbed her of her resources.
"I'd like to see you try." Lexa challenged, bringing a red tint to Clarke's cheeks, because, yet again, Lexa was right. Even if Clarke wanted to leave, Lexa's crossbow could probably shoot a lot faster than Clarke could climb the ladder.
"You can't hold me hostage here." It felt more like a question to the brunette, rather than a protest against her.
"Yes, I can." And Lexa was smiling- smirking, as if she was getting some sort of pleasure out of her obvious control over the blonde.
Clarke's blood was boiling (and if it hadn't been for the fact that Lexa's smile was stirring something that felt like butterflies in her stomach, Clarke would have gone right up to the cocky brunette just to punch her right in those high cheekbones).
Since punching the girl was not an intelligent option, Clarke settled on turning to the bathroom bucket and allowing her foot to collide with it, the kick sending it loudly into the wall. Along with the clank of metal against cement, Clarke added in a yell through gritted teeth that was an even mix of various profanities and growls. It didn't help with much of her pent up anger (and only sent a surge of pain through her toes).
Apparently, it wasn't too early to start arguing with Lexa.
Lexa never slept in longer than Clarke. Never. She was always out of bed as soon as the sun made its appearance over the skylight and Clarke would wake minutes later to the sound of food being brought to her bed. So when Clarke woke up to the growling in her stomach, rather than the unlocking of the food cabinet, she knew something wasn't right.
She sat upright and rubbed the blurriness from her eyes, surprised when she saw the brunette, tucked cozily under her blankets.
Her surprise only heightened when she noticed that a strange noise was coming from the girl. Lexa was snoring- quietly, but snoring nonetheless- and Clarke had to push her hand against her mouth to prevent the laugh that was threatening to escape it.
It had been a few days since their discovery on the radio and, much to Clarke's disappointment, Lexa refused to turn the device on, probably just to annoy the blonde.
Had she not been so thrown by the strange set of circumstances, she might have attempted to steal the radio and turn it on for herself, but something told her that plan would go just as well as her previous plan to steal food, if not worse. Either way, the rumbling below her ribs outweighed any other desire to cause mischief.
Still, Clarke couldn't say that the idea of waking the brunette was exactly appealing. After the radio incident, the two girls had fallen quiet in a silent protest against one another. And Clarke would almost rather starve than be the first to crack. Almost.
Giving in to her growing hunger, Clarke trudged to where Lexa lay in her bed, immediately wishing she had chosen to stay in the warmth of her own blankets.
"Lexa," she said. The name still felt foreign from her lips, evoking an odd feeling to fill her body.
A sharp intake of breath (that sounded too much like a snore for Clarke to hold back a smile) indicated that Clarke's voice had its expected impact. She could see Lexa beginning to doze off again, so she repeated herself.
This time, Lexa only mumbled something too muffled by her pillow and her grogginess for Clarke to understand, and rolled over to face away from the blonde. Clarke narrowed her eyes at this, knowing that, usually, Lexa was wide awake at the sound of a pin dropping. The fact that she was resisting- no, avoiding- waking up only made Clarke more suspicious.
"I'm hungry." She explained, fiddling with her thumbs just for the sake of breaking up the awkwardness consuming her. She hated how much control Lexa had over her; hated how she was basically incompetent without the brunette.
Lexa responded with a throaty whimper before reaching under her blanket and rummaging around for the keys. Clarke felt the slight need to apologize to Lexa for waking her- especially after the pitiful noise she just made- but quickly pushed the feeling away.
The keys were revealed above the covers and Clarke stepped back, thinking that Lexa would be standing up, but realized she was wrong when the other girl tossed the keys from her grasp, in Clarke's direction.
Clarke was perplexed, again, at the uncharacteristic behavior. Just days ago, Lexa was threatening Clarke's life for opening the food cabinet, but now, she throws the keys to her as if it's nothing? Clarke couldn't help but wonder if the gesture was a test. Lexa had to be testing her.
There was a brief moment where Clarke wondered if she should take advantage of the situation and gorge herself on as much as she could without Lexa noticing, but decided she didn't want history to repeat itself. Plus, did she really want to sabotage the sudden trust being bestowed upon her? Definitely not, if it meant her life would be the slightest bit less annoying.
I guess it's time to take the higher road.
Clarke bent down to where the keys had fallen against the cement and took them in her hands, unable to stop the anxiety that came with them, considering the last time she grabbed the keys, it ended with an arrow inches from her face.
Opening the cabinet only created more confusion in Clarke's head of endless questions.
In the end, she decided to grab a couple bags of chips, unsure if the snoring brunette across the room would even want to eat. She returned to Lexa's bedside and cleared her throat to bring attention to her presence, placing the keys and a bag of chips on the empty part of her bed.
Lexa rolled to face Clarke again and opened her eyes for what Clarke guessed to be the first time that morning. Clarke had already returned to her bed by the time Lexa was sitting up and stretching her arms. Clarke couldn't help but stare as she opened the aluminum bag in her lap, noticing how toned Lexa's arms looked when she tensed them.
"Chips?" Lexa croaked, raising one eyebrow at the blonde (said blonde was just thankful that Lexa broke her from her embarrassing thoughts).
Clarke simply shrugged and pushed one of the chips into her mouth. Because, if Lexa was unhappy with Clarke's choices, she could get something different. After all, she had round-the-clock access to any food she wanted, unlike Clarke.
The girls ate in silence, Lexa nibbling on the chips at a much slower rate than the blonde. Clarke could tell that something was off about Lexa, but brushed it off, contributing it to the fact that times were getting tough in the shelter.
They were down to their last three gallons of water and the food in the cabinet was slowly but surely diminishing. Clarke always felt on edge, willing to give anything to talk to anyone besides Lexa (not that they talked much anyway).
Still, Clarke wondered if Lexa was being too quiet. Perhaps the brunette was still participating in their 'silent treatment' game. But it wasn't just the lack of conversation that confused Clarke. Something about Lexa's overall appearance seemed so unusual. From the way her eyes sat, barely open, to the way her back hunched over, a blanket draped loosely over her shoulders. It just seemed weird.
Clarke finished her chips before her stomach felt satisfied, but held back the urge to ask for more food. Meanwhile, Lexa had probably eaten five chips, if that.
The brunette abruptly pushed the bag away and stood from her bed, walking unsteadily across the room. Clarke assumed it must have been the lighting, but Lexa suddenly looked pale and Clarke could swear she saw her shivering. Her eyes followed Lexa until she was standing over the bathroom bucket, telling Clarke she should look away.
Clarke busied herself by folding the aluminum bag into the smallest square possible, unfolding it, and repeating. Not exactly the most exciting activity, but at least it kept her mind off of the confusing events of the morning. That is, until the sound of choking and something (Clarke did not want to know what) splattering against metal.
Clarke's hands froze, mid-fold, but she didn't look towards Lexa, afraid to violate the privacy of the girl's bathroom affairs.
However, the sound of more coughing made her decide that the privacy wasn't all that important.
Averting her attention to the bucket, Clarke found Lexa to be bending over, holding her hair back, as she vomited into the makeshift toilet.
And that made Clarke feel like doing the same.
Radiation was the first word to flash through her thoughts, rendering her speechless and fearful. She found herself unable to move as Lexa started back towards the other side of the room, holding her head in her hands.
When she was finally seated again, Clarke came to her senses and opened her mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Lexa talking first.
"The food from last night must've been spoiled." She mumbled, attempting to answer the question they were both wondering, but failing to hide the worry coating her words. Clarke can't blame Lexa for being afraid. If it truly was radiation, Lexa could be dead in days.
The thought was enough to make Clarke stand up, ready to return to Lexa's bedside for the second time that morning.
"Clarke," Lexa growled before she could walk forward. Her tone was demanding, but Clarke could still hear the previous fear and she acted on it.
"Is anything else wrong? Or just the nausea?" Clarke asked before she reached the spot where Lexa sat. The brunette let out a gravelly sigh, obviously wishing Clarke would leave her alone. But it was too late; Clarke was already in full doctor-mode.
"Well, you're definitely giving me a headache." Lexa jeered, though the typical sting that always seemed to accompany her jibes was lost to Clarke. Instead, the remark came out more like a whine than an insult, making it hard to sound offensive.
Clarke wracked her brain for the symptoms of radiation sickness, hoping that none of Lexa's symptoms reflected that of someone exposed to radiation.
Nausea, vomiting, headache, fatigue, fever.
Clarke tilted Lexa's chin up and rested her wrist against the brunette's forehead so fast, she wondered if she had given the girl whiplash. Thankfully, the only discomfort displayed on Lexa's face seemed to be from the surprise of having Clarke's wrist on her face.
Clarke was shocked, too, her eyes flicking between Lexa's amazingly green eyes and the spot where her arm was pressed. The intense warmth emanating from the girl's forehead reminded Clarke of the task at hand.
Her heart sank when she realized that the amount of heat she felt was far too much to be considered normal. She definitely had a fever.
Five out of five. Lexa checked off all five symptoms. Even though the given symptoms could be caused by any number if ailments, Clarke didn't feel any less worried.
Lexa must have noticed the disappointment spread across Clarke's face, prompting her to turn her face away from the blonde's touch.
"I'm fine." Lexa stated, though it was unclear who she was trying to convince. If she was trying to assure Clarke, it definitely wasn't working.
Clarke could feel the beginning of tears pricking her eyes, and she turned away, not wanting Lexa to see the tears.
"If this was radiation, you'd be sick too." Lexa continued, probably noticing the blonde's sudden change in mood (Clarke made a mental note to stop being so, damn readable).
She supposed Lexa was right in her logic, but that didn't stop the lingering feeling of worry that filled her stomach.
She couldn't bare to think of losing Lexa. Because even though Clarke hated her snide comments and bitterness, the brunette was all she had left, and Clarke refused to lose her, too.
The day seemed to crawl by after breakfast. Lexa seemed to only have an interest in sleeping, leaving Clarke to her own devices, not that any other given day was much different. Still, Clarke knew that the sluggish pace of the day was largely contributed to the fact that her eyes never left the brunette for longer than a few seconds. And staring at the rise and fall of Lexa's chest was proving to be a terrible pastime.
When dinner finally offered a break in her current activities, Clarke retrieved the keys from Lexa (the task filled with approximately the same amount of groans as that morning) for the second time. The keys continued to evoke an uneasy feeling inside her, as if holding them alone could make Lexa angry.
She unlocked the cabinet, anyway, rummaging through the mess of food until her hand wrapped around the label of a can that gave her an idea.
Chicken noodle soup.
Along with the can, she grabbed herself a couple stale pastries (Lexa would usually only give her one, but why not test the boundaries) and snacked on them as she worked on opening the canned soup. A job that would be much easier if a can opener was present, but since it wasn't, a fork would have to do.
After loads of banging the end of the utensil into the can (and many complaints from Lexa for Clarke to 'shut up' with a few choice words sprinkled in), the lid popped off, and revealed the soup inside.
Clarke walked the food to Lexa's bed and sat on the edge, waiting for Lexa to roll over and face her.
"It'd be better if it was warm, but you should eat some." Clarke said nonchalantly. She knew it was probably a bad idea, considering Lexa hadn't been able to keep down food since the day before, but she did it anyway, hoping Lexa would find some kindness in the gesture.
The brunette rolled onto her back and rubbed her eyes, covering her mouth as a yawn escaped it, before lifting her head and staring at the contents of Clarke's hands.
"It'll just end up in the bucket. We shouldn't be wasting food." Lexa explained groggily, propping herself up on her elbows. Clarke almost wanted to be mad at the girl for not accepting the food, but held back, knowing that Lexa was just trying to do what was best for the both of them.
Regardless, Clarke continued to push the subject.
"You haven't had anything to eat today," she started. Lexa opened her mouth the protest, but Clarke cut her off. "And it's not a waste if it helps you feel better." Her voice trailed and she quickly turned away, feeling heat grow in her cheeks. The statement was sappy and she expected the brunette to follow it with a scoff or a sarcastic remark. Instead, she heard a short laugh and felt fingers graze against her own, pulling the can from her grasp.
The brunette repositioned herself to be sitting up and took a small spoonful of noodles and broth to her mouth. Clarke forced herself to reinitiate eye contact and couldn't stop the smile that came to her lips when she saw the girl eating.
"You're welcome." Clarke commented smugly.
Lexa rolled her eyes instead of thanking Clarke, which would usually irritate the blonde, but she decided to give Lexa's coldness a pass. Because she was sick. And definitely not for any other reason.
A/N: I told you they'd start to open up soon! Somehow this fic is really going along with the current season of The 100. In the show they're trying to find a shelter to stay in, in this fic, they're in a shelter. People are starting to get radiation sickness in the 100, Lexa just got sick in this chapter. Completely unintentional but still kinda cool.
I hope you all enjoyed this fluff (if it could even be considered that) and again, thank you all so much for the support! Please leave some reviews so I know how you guys are liking this! Next chapter is gonna be a little different... New characters will be introduced... That's all I'm gonna say (: See you guys next week!