Anya could appreciate a good party.
For a lot of her life, she'd had to be more responsible than most, and while she had no regrets, it had led to her developing some solitary hobbies and ultimately a rather lacking social life. Since going to NU, that social life expanded, if just a little bit, at least up until this year when Lexa could move out of her dad's house and come to NU as well. Nowadays, she had freedom and family close at hand, and that was a worthy enough reason to find time to celebrate it while it lasted. Anya was under no impression it would last forever.
And so she sat back in the comfortable loveseat, fresh off a game of quarters against some of Lincoln's girlfriend's lunatic friends. Now in her senior year, Anya wasn't a particularly heavy drinker, and her long-developed skills in drinking games often ensured she wouldn't be put in a position to get plastered. Tonight was no exception.
A groan across the room alerted her to another person getting frustrated at her family's hand-eye coordination, Lexa seemingly brutalizing that Monty boy in another game of quarters. Years ago, she had played a stripped down version of the game with Lexa to pass time, with juice or kool-aid instead of alcohol, and a candy or two for the winner; if she was good, and Anya knew she was, Lexa was usually a little bit better. Lincoln was more than capable as well, so as a whole, ten years of practice against kids who likely started drinking maybe three years ago at best made the competition predictably easy. Still, Anya wasn't going to complain. It was fun to see her family do well, and it was a little relieving to see them, especially Lexa, loosen up a bit.
Sometimes she worried about that girl. Well, perhaps more than just sometimes...but I'm not the only one watching her carefully tonight.
Across the room, Clarke was in some idle discussion with that Harper girl, but it was clear that the blonde was paying more attention to Lexa's prowess at quarters than she was whatever the two were talking about.
Anya wasn't born yesterday. She knew Lexa was gay as the day was long, and the fact that Griffin would bite her lip just about every time Lexa full-on smiled or laughed was a sign that the blonde was interested at the very least. While Anya truly didn't want to have to deal with any more of her family members being in relationships and potentially getting hurt, she knew Lexa would eventually want to date again after, well, everything with Costia. And if that was Clarke, well, at least it was someone she respected to an extent. At least the girl seemed responsible.
A collective groan signaled another three-peat for Lexa, drawing Anya's gaze back to her cousin, who was not-so-subtly sending glances Clarke's way as she spoke the game's newest rule. Lexa, your gay is showing... she mused to herself, groaning internally at how similar this all seemed to how Lexa had been at the start with Costia. All shy, looking for acknowledgement, turning their friendly track and field rivalry into mutual admiration, and then into tentative touches and nervous smiles. Her cousin was extraordinary, and sought after equals; that Clarke had managed to capture Lexa's attention meant that something was brewing between the two.
She wouldn't play cupid. However, she WOULD enjoy watching them stumble around and into each other for as long they could manage without figuring out what, if anything, was between them.
A dark shape in her periphery had Anya turning her head to find that Reyes girl standing at the arm of the loveseat, looking down at her with nervous eyes and a slightly jittery smile.
"What?" She let out, unsure why the girl had come over to the other side of the room, away from the festivities, and somewhat unimpressed at having her little scouting mission interrupted.
"Can I get you a drink?" Reyes' question was simple, her subtle slurring not quite killing off the clear nerves that shook each syllable.
Anya wasn't sure why the girl was so on edge, and didn't quite like that uncertainty. Still, Reyes was a sophomore, and while she knew very little about the woman, she was aware of her obsession with that car of hers. Probably just feeling nerves over drinking tonight and leaving the keys with another person...
"One of the hard lemonades, please." Anya answered, deciding she'd had enough of the hard liquor for the night, so she could move onto lighter drinks. She'd never had the greatest tolerance, so it never took much to remain in the range of pleasantly buzzed and a little drunk. And if the strange girl was offering, then she could at least be somewhat polite in response.
Raven was off like a shot, crossing the room towards the cooler. Anya returned her gaze to the quarters table, where apparently the group decided to start setting up another game. Lexa was standing, discussing something with Lincoln and Octavia, but Anya couldn't help but notice Clarke off in the background, head tilting slowly more and more to the side. Eyes intensely focused on Lexa's backside, clearly agape from how far her jaw had dropped.
Anya let out a sigh at the sight. I should not have convinced Lexa to wear those jeans... She grumbled internally, only to stifle a laugh when Jasper caught the blonde staring, Clarke immediately going red-faced and speaking quickly. Well, I suppose those jeans aren't so bad if they can embarrass Griffin for a few moments. Though if Clarke knows what's good for herself, she'll stop ogling like a construction worker...Lexa deserves better than that...
A small thump of a body sitting to her right brought Anya back to the present, noticing that Reyes had decided to partake in her company. "Here you go." Raven offered with a bright, particularly warm smile as she handed Anya the bottle. "I'm not sure we've officially met. I'm Raven."
Anya eyed the newcomer skeptically, but figured there was little harm in engaging her. "Anya. And thank you for the drink." Anya said, her tone not tremendously welcoming, but not stony or hostile either. Raven wasn't part of her friend group, she didn't understand why the sophomore was spending time with her instead of the others.
"I aim to please." Reyes noted with only the tiniest slurring to her voice, taking a small sip from her beer.
"Had enough of the drinking games for now?" Anya asked, recalling that Reyes had been entrenched in the games since they'd started.
Raven offered a slight shrug. "I lost a lot, and I think my coordination took a bit of a hit with all the drinking." Reyes explained, before shooting Anya a curious, if slightly mischievous glance. "Say, could I count shoulders with you and see if I've still got it?"
Anya's brow furrowed at the request, entirely confused as to what 'counting shoulders' was that wasn't already entirely visible and obvious. Still, the girl's company hadn't been atrocious so far, so she nodded, even if she had no idea what was happening.
Raven tapped her both of her shoulders with her left hand, counting off 'one' and 'two', before tapping Anya's right shoulder 'three'. It was entirely bizarre, and Anya lowered her bottle to give Raven room to reach out in front of her, but the girl's arm snaked behind her back and tapped her left shoulder, leaving her hand and arm in place.
"Four. Yeah, I think I'm good." Raven noted with an entirely goofy smile that had Anya perplexed, her mind needing a few seconds to catch onto what had happened.
She used a pickup line, of sorts...on me... Anya mused to great confusion, her rather hostile reputation towards men who hit on her having basically left her suitor-less over the past year and a half. It wasn't as if she was entirely straight, Anya was quite open to women, but none had ever hit on her. Not outside of an abstract hypothetical sense, at least. This is unbelievable...
Anya slowly, but firmly, took hold of Raven's hand and lifted it off her shoulder, the dark-haired girl swiftly taking her arm back at sight of the steely scowl on her face. Like most who had hit on her in the past, there was dejection in Raven's eyes, but surprisingly a lack of fear, regret seeming to take its usual place.
It was enough to have Anya feeling slightly bad for the girl, but honestly, she didn't have time in her life for anything. She had her own studies to worry about, she had the Huskies, and she had Lexa and Lincoln; those all combined were enough to fill her plate. Even if she wanted to, which she wasn't at all sure she did, she couldn't take an interest in Reyes.
Still, she could see Kings was being set up across the room, and she had no interest in playing that, so there couldn't be much harm in some added attention. Especially if she didn't actively pursue it.
"Ha, sorry. When I drink, my wit tends to go out the window. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable or anything." Raven said quickly, each syllable softened by clear regret and concern. It was strange.
"I'm not uncomfortable, but pickup lines don't suit me." Anya stated flatly, her words drawing a skeptical expression from Reyes that only furthered her own confusion.
"What, seriously?" Raven blurted out, before seeming to check her enthusiasm, though that skeptical expression remained. "To be honest, I look at you and dozens come to mind."
Anya let out a scoff at the assertion, beginning to rethink whether this attention was worth the annoyance and potential insult. "It's breathtaking to hear that cheap, tacky words come to mind when you see me." Anya noted, words dripping in sarcasm and disdain. And yet, Reyes didn't back off like others often had, only leaning closer, if just slightly.
"They're not all bad. Like, there's one where I'd ask if your father is a thief." Raven started, time ticking on before Anya realized Reyes was waiting for a response. With an exasperated sigh, she shook her head, knowing this could go very poorly if the girl inadvertently insulted her father.
"Because he clearly stole the stars from the skies and put them in your eyes." Raven finished, voice trailing off a bit into a grin, the darker girl's gaze inexplicably managing to be soft and piercing at the same time.
Anya fought for the physical ability to respond, not at all having expected something like that to come out of the mech engineering student's mouth. "That's..." She started, fighting to combine syllables into something resembling a calm, collected response, but it was odd. She hadn't had her eyes complimented since second grade, when her classmate Tristan had told her they were pretty because he liked the colour brown, because bears were brown. Truthfully, she was somewhat used to compliments; Anya knew she was a fairly attractive person, but her eyes had never really been mediums people chose to express their desire through in the past. It had her a tiny bit curious as to what this Raven saw differently.
"...nearly poetic, but not quite up to par." Anya finished, feeling a little added confidence in her delivery, not wanting to give away her hesitation and confusion, even if Reyes might be too drunk to take note of more subtle shifts in expression.
"I'll be sure to pick a better one next time around. Speaking of poetic, what, are you a poetry buff?" Raven asked, not at all with the usual disbelief or audible disrespect. It almost seemed as if the girl was just sincerely curious.
Deciding to take a risk, and knowing Reyes was maybe too drunk to remember many details, she figured it wouldn't hurt to answer such a simple question. "I am." It was honestly all she'd been willing to say without an idea of how it'd be responded to.
Raven's blooming smile was a curious, if somewhat pleasant surprise. "Read something to me? Or, well, I guess that's not realistic, since who even brings poetry books to parties like these anyway, but..." Reyes babbled, clearly a little more than buzzed, and certainly quite nervous. It was...almost sweet.
Before she could think too hard, Anya found herself reciting from memory a work that was somewhat fitting to their situation. "Love is like the wild rose-briar, friendship like the holly tree. The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, but which will bloom most constantly?" She started up, immediately grabbing Reyes' attention, everyone else in the room more than enthralled with the game of Kings going on. "The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring, its summer blossoms scent the air; yet wait till winter comes again, and who will call the wild-briar fair?"
Raven sank into the couch, thoughtful eyes watching Anya as she continued reciting, an oddly small grin ever-present on the girl's face despite the subject material. "Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now, and deck thee with the holly's sheen, that when December blights thy brow he may still leave thy garland green."
Anya watched Raven's eyes slowly slip closed, the girl nodding to herself a few times as her smile grew and grew, teeth lightly caressing a slightly wounded lower lip. "That was really beautiful." Raven noted quietly, thankfully still audible against the shouting and cheering across the room. Anya had honestly expected some sort of response, but another compliment was hardly one of them. "Seriously, it's like you shifted gears and fell into this zone. Your eyes went all soft and clear, your smile was freaking radiant, and your voice...wow. I know the poem's about friendship being better than love, I can take a hint, but I have to say that was pretty special."
"It's by Emily Bronte..." Anya stated, unsure how to respond to Reyes' words, the spattering of half-developed compliments was as flattering as it was confusing. Again, Anya wasn't new to compliments, but rarely did any target her face; usually, it was her fitness, her slim figure, her backside, or her legs. Sometimes she'd even get a compliment of her ethnicity, but those were fetishistic and gross. Since she was young, she'd been told that she'd had a bad case of resting bitch-face, that she tended to look mean. So it was confusing to hear Reyes focus on those characteristics without those connotations. "And if that was an attempt at a pickup line, you failed."
Raven startled at the accusation, hands lifting up briefly in a sort of apologetic surrender. "Whoa, no. I mean, if I were to shoot one off at you, it'd be that watching you recite rendered me breathless, but seeing you smile breathed life back into me...or something like that. Because while I totally dig the badass warrior vibe you usually rock on the daily, that was a good sort of different you just pulled off."
Anya nodded slowly, taking in yet another compliment on her smile. Had I smiled when I recited the poem? I don't think I did, but I must have...right?
"Anyway, I think I'm too drunk to keep from talking and embarrassing myself, so I'm going to go over to the game of Kings, and maybe heckle the birthday girl a little bit." Raven said through a blush that managed to be visible despite her skin tone, teeth descending to nibble on that slightly swollen lower lip as she seemed to gauge Anya's response. Not that she was entirely sure HOW to respond, what with all of the girl's words finally getting digested in her slightly alcohol-delayed mind. "It was nice meeting you, Anya. I'll see you later."
Anya just nodded at the farewell, unsure now whether she was happy to be free of Raven's company so she could think about the perplexing chat they'd had, or disappointed that Reyes was leaving so soon. As she decided she could feel both, Anya rested a hand on the girl's forearm just as Raven was getting up to leave. "Of course. You as well."
Reyes' smile in return was brilliant, eyes lighting up in a way that had Anya thinking back to that last pseudo-pickup line about breathing life into her. She'd been able to bring joy to Lexa, Lincoln, and her parents' faces before, certainly, but this was different, even if it seemed quite similar. It was an odd power to experience, but Anya wasn't sure she minded it.
Her eyes tracked the newly bubbly girl across the room, where Raven teetered over to Clarke, pulling her out of that apparently quite lengthy discussion with Harper, and into a hug. Almost immediately, the veil of polite interest covering the blonde's dire boredom broke apart into contentment, Clarke returning the embrace with similar enthusiasm. Knowing blue eyes glanced her way for a moment or two over Raven's shoulder, and it had Anya wondering if Clarke had been paying attention to more than just Lexa tonight.
She watched them pull apart and exchange quick words, relief pouring out from Raven in waves, met with encouraging looks from the blonde. Anya wasn't certain what to make of it all, but perhaps she'd talk to Clarke later on. It had been a while since their last chat.
Until then, she'd continue enjoying the party. Maybe she'd move closer to the drunken antics soon enough, as well. For now, though, she would take some time to figure out what to think about Raven. And finish her untouched lemonade.
Clarke couldn't help the heaving sigh that escaped her as she stepped into the club's ladies room, a minor sense of relief washing over her as she made her way to the sinks and leaned against the counter. Fuck the potential germs, she just needed something to help support her body weight, because tonight had been a fucking trial.
It was bad enough that Lexa had shown up looking all fantastic and messing with her head like that. It was one thing when her rival was near flawless on the ice and had earned her admiration and respect; it was entirely another thing to actually get to SEE Lexa, and find out that she was fucking mesmeric in her beauty. It was to the point that after their first bit of real eye contact, Clarke could hardly keep her eyes away from Lexa.
And when Lexa would win in quarters, that familiar pride and confidence shining through, well that bridged a gap of sorts, linking all those years-old feelings about the brunette to these difficult new ones. The damn girl refused to lose, and would wear this absurdly content smirk that had Clarke wanting to, well, do SOMETHING to get it off her face. Problem was, that 'something' entailed some contact that she honestly didn't want to think about, and which was dangerous to let her mind wander off to.
And when Lexa started getting tipsy during Kings, pink hues rising to her cheeks and mischief in the girl's eyes, Clarke couldn't help but be further intrigued at this newfound side of her. From the flavoured vodka coolers, to Lexa speaking in what Clarke imagined was an Australian accent when an accent rule was initiated in the game, Lexa had piqued her interest. It didn't help that the accent, authentic or not, was tantalizing spilling from Lexa's lips.
And when Lexa would crack a smile and laugh, viridian eyes shining brightly in amusement of the antics during truth or dare, Clarke felt as if her heart was beating against her ribs, straining at its cage to be nearer to this bewitching young woman. It was so strange to have accepted the role of a sober partygoer, and still end up drunk, if on something entirely different and more potent than alcohol. And when Lexa completed a dare to do a body shot off Raven, well, that was just a little too much to handle, so Clarke had escaped to the washroom for a breather.
I'm so fucked... Clarke nearly groaned aloud, instead forcing the words to rattle around in her head. Sure, Clarke was mature enough to acknowledge her attraction to her rival of sorts, but she wasn't quite ready to voice it. Not just yet.
Because Lexa had been safe, in a sense, labeled in Clarke's head with all sorts of words and ideas that were damn useful in propelling her towards the level of greatness the brunette was capable of. Such greatness that Clarke felt necessary to reach as well if she had any hope of making the Olympics.
Lexa, for years now, had been a tool, a measuring stick, a living resource to learn the game from. That had been simple, and useful, and fantastic in helping Clarke improve her hockey skills, but now Lexa was more than that.
And honestly, that just complicated things. Clarke wasn't sure she was ready to wrap her head around it, to be honest. It wasn't as if she needed to be, or even wanted to be combative with her rival, she just wanted to be able to be composed and confident in her presence, and hockey made that simple. Adding in the social and physical dynamics rendered her a breathless, voiceless, slack-jawed, aroused mess for far too often to be confident in staying composed. To say it was a frustrating turn of events was putting it lightly.
However, those thoughts and all the conflicts associated with them flew into the æther as the washroom door slammed open, Clarke barely needing a half second glimpse at the brunette's jeans to figure out it was Lexa kicking open a stall and hurling herself over a toilet.
Clarke immediately placed her bag on the counter and rushed over to Lexa, pulling the girl's hair away from her face and into a ponytail as she vomited into the bowl over and over. Honestly, it was a little relieving to see that a lot of it wasn't just water; for better or worse, Lexa had eaten before she arrived, and if her experience was right, it probably meant something just hadn't sat well with the brunette, instead of the girl drinking far past her limit.
Still, it wasn't a quick one and done, and without thinking, Clarke found her free hand rubbing at Lexa's back. It felt a little weird to be crouching in a washroom stall, touching Lexa in such a supportive way; in some way it was actually a little relieving, Clarke feeling a little more centered and composed now that she had something to do about Lexa, even if it was unrelated to her attraction. If there was something she could hardly stand, it was feeling useless, or like she couldn't do anything about something, even if just for the moment. Being able to take action, and do something good, well, it swiftly put Clarke in a better mood.
Near what seemed to be the tail end of the puking spree, Lexa took a brief peer over her shoulder at Clarke, those sea-green eyes still full of life and vigor even if the girl owning them appeared somewhat pale and exhausted by it all.
Clarke did her best to meet that glance with reassurance, figuring now was absolutely not the time to worry about any past or present conflicts between them. "You're gonna be alright, just let it out of your system, no rush."
And that was how they remained for the next five minutes through the last of the vomiting, and the worst of the dry heaves. The latter were always shitty to go through, since it was usually tied to having a terribly sore throat and nothing to do about it, but at least it was a sign that things were getting better bit by bit.
When Lexa finally sagged against the ceramic and finally managed to take a few full breaths without laboring for them, Clarke figured it was about time to move things to a better location. "We'll rest here for half a minute, and then I'm going to bring us over to the sinks to rinse your mouth, alright?"
Lexa's breathing stilled for a moment, eyes fluttering closed for a moment or two before the brunette gave a small, stiff nod. It wasn't much, but it was enough for Clarke to stick with the plan, continuing to rub at Lexa's back as the girl rested, internally counting down the time.
At the thirty second mark, she slipped her arms under the brunette's armpits and hauled her up to her feet in one smooth motion. Or, well, it would have been smooth if Lexa hadn't seemed to have second thoughts about the plan, fighting a little at Clarke dragging her out of the washroom stall. Maybe if Lexa had been sober, the girl would have had a better shot, but a tired, drunk girl...fit or not...wasn't about to best her when she had sobriety and coordination of her side.
Shifting her grip to stabilize her hold on Lexa, she quickly shuffled the girl over to the sinks and leaned Lexa up against them before letting go to rummage through her bag. The tired girl immediately turned around, as if preparing for some sort of fight, which would have been a little troubling given it was O's birthday and all, and given Anya was present, but the fight left Lexa's eyes when Clarke held out a water bottle for her to take.
"I'm not making you lean over to drink the shitty spray these faucets give off. Take a sip, swirl it around, spit. Four times, at least. Then take a few gulps of water. Bottle's yours." Clarke explained, hoping her to-the-point instructions were neutral enough to not cause any further issue with the girl.
Because honestly? Clarke was pretty damn sure Lexa hated her. Between how hard the brunette played her on the ice, how frosty her reception had been at the arena last week, and how the girl just kept glaring and staring intensely at her all night, the blonde figured Lexa had it out for her. She was about a hundred percent sure of it, which was yet another reason why her attraction was dangerous and something to be dealt with in solitude, at another time and place.
More than a little wary, Lexa slowly reached out and took the bottle, seeming to check the freshness seal before twisting off the cap and taking a sip. It wasn't the warmest response she'd ever had from a drunk person in need of aid, but it wasn't the worst, either. For that, she was thankful. And honestly, she was thankful Lexa hadn't looked in the mirror at all yet, because she had a feeling that if the girl did, Lexa would be about a thousand times more defensive about the streaks of mascara on her cheeks.
Sure, a lot of people's bodies forced out tears while vomiting, it was no big thing, but Clarke had a feeling Lexa liked controlling how she presented herself to others. And the pale, messy girl in front of her was far from the way she imagined Lexa looked just about anywhere in public.
Clarke took the brief window of time to search her bag for a few more things, pulling out the assortment of items and laying them out across the counter. The action held Lexa's interest, given the brunette hadn't taken her eyes off of her since they made it to the sinks, but there was no move to leave, or to be aggressive or anything. Just curious, cautious eyes watching her every move. A nice break from the usual anger or hate.
Taking Lexa's better temper as a sign that she wouldn't attack or anything, Clarke gently guided her to a nearby wall once the girl had finished taking a few swallows of water and blowing her nose out. As better as Lexa might have been feeling, she still looked like she might topple over if a strong enough breeze hit her, so Clarke stood in front of her and got down to business. "Before I give you anything else, are you sure it's all out of your system?"
Lexa gave another small, stiff nod, eyes rolling up and sticking there to stare at something on the ceiling. "I forgot my body hates heavy beers like Guinness." The brunette noted, voice hoarse and sounds oddly sheepish. It was nice to hear a lack of hostility. Not that Clarke took that any which way, just feeling it was nice that the tone didn't match the glaring from before.
"Mmmh. That'll do it. How are you feeling?" She asked, deciding to keep things simple as she reached over to her side and wet the face cloth she'd pulled out, and grabbed a few makeup wipes. If Lexa responded well, she'd continue on; if not, she'd back off, and give the girl the tools to clean herself up. Clarke just figured it would be faster if she handled most of it.
"My throat feels like a salt flat covered in acid and rose thorns." Lexa responded quickly enough, almost a hint of a smile on her lips if Clarke stared hard enough and looked past how tense Lexa was. Which, of course, she wouldn't, or certainly couldn't. It wouldn't be polite, and Lexa had remarkably wonderful looking lips, so it'd be a terrible combination.
She let out a little laugh at the remark, knowing those words described the feeling pretty well, and decently creatively for a drunken girl. "I like that, I might remember it for in the future when I'm in your position, if you don't mind." She added, figuring that if any of Lexa's remaining tension was from insecurity of being more vulnerable, asserting that she was vulnerable like that at times might help a little.
Lexa's small shrug, dissipating a minor, if visible amount of tension in her rival's body, spurred Clarke forward to start a brief cleaning of Lexa's face. Clarke noticed the girl's eyes flutter closed, but offered no objections. It was refreshing and relieving, but at the same time had her feeling a little guilty. She'd have to come clean, somehow, just in case Lexa would be uncomfortable.
It only took seconds to realize she should probably speed things along, Clarke taking hold of her chosen drink for the night, or at least the other carton she hadn't opened yet. When she'd finished dabbing away the makeup and general post-vomit-session grime, she gave the girl's shoulder a light tap. "So I know when I've vomited, water's nice, but it can't get rid of the burning aftertaste. So if you want something to drink that will taste better, and might coat your throat a little, I've got something that could do that. Or if you want some mouthwash this early in the night and can deal with its burn and aftertaste, then I've got some of that too. Or you could mouthwash, then drink, if you're okay with mixing some minty flavour with peaches. Your call."
Lexa's eyes remained closed, the girl taking a few noticeably measured breaths before nodding. "Mouthwash, then drink."
Clarke placed her travel bottle of mouthwash in Lexa's right hand, taking her left to guide the girl back near the sinks. Lexa made quick work of the stuff, swishing and gargling before spitting it all out with a wince. The brunette seemed a little more energetic now, so she let Lexa lean against the countertop instead of back at the wall again, but Clarke still returned to her spot in front of her. A few months back, she'd had an acquaintance drunkenly fall on her face on her watch, and while that was likely a fluke, she wasn't willing to risk that again.
Feeling like they'd established a minimal rapport, Clarke brought out the washcloth and started dabbing away the sweat from Lexa's neck, knowing cool cloths always felt pretty great after she'd vomited. Lexa didn't say or do anything except close her eyes again, so Clarke figured it was fine. Still, her guilt was flaring up again, just with no real plan to alleviate it.
"I put your water bottle on your right, and my peach drink on your left, so when you're up for drinking, you can. And you should get fluids into you as soon as you're comfortable." Clarke reminded, drawing a small nod from Lexa, curiously no longer stiff. Though a brief bit of confusion flickered across the girl's face.
"You expect me to drink what you've been drinking out of all night?" Lexa asked quietly, oddly sounding more curious and confused than put off.
"No, I always bring a spare. When O gets drunk, she sometimes likes to mess with me, and that can involve her lewdly drinking my juice and making...well, saying vulgar things about my sex life." Clarke explained, feeling a little relief at the surprise opportunity to just toss in a bit of personal info and hopefully let Lexa know more about her. Not out of some repressed hope that Lexa would express some similar sexuality, but so that the brunette would know more, and be able to make some informed choices and whatever.
"As...absurd as your peach drink is...and it is...I don't understand what you're getting at." Lexa noted, voice suddenly a little hesitant, hands fiddling with the bottle of mouthwash in her grasp.
Clarke let out a brief sigh, hoping her words wouldn't be taken poorly. Sure, people were more accepting these days, but there were still a lot of homophobes and biphobes around.
"Well, I'm bi, and O's always teasing me, saying I drink it because I haven't...well, or that I miss going..." Clarke started, stumbling for words a bit, not wanting to be too vulgar and give a bad impression, but needing some way to be clear.
Lexa's voice interrupting her was a godsend, to be honest, if stunningly blunt. "...That you miss giving a certain kind of oral sex. I understand now." Lexa spoke with more calm, and more precise speech than in the recent past, sounding as if she were sobering up. "And...it is a little funny, Griffin. Lighten up."
Clarke couldn't help but laugh at the slight bit of sass Lexa was sending her way, and from utter relief that the girl seemed totally fine, given her hand was dabbing along the brunette's collarbone now. "Oh, believe me, it was funny the first time. Even the tenth time. But it's just a regular thing now, and I think she tries to one up herself in making it more explicit and vulgar...so anytime she's feeling creative, the carton's out of the fridge and she's defiling it." Clarke explained with another laugh, noticing Lexa's head tilt slightly towards the unopened carton at her side. "That one's fresh from the store, you don't have to worry about the birthday girl's grubby mitts being all over it."
"But honestly...why peach nectar? Of all things you could drink..." Lexa trailed off, the question quite clear, though Clarke wasn't sure how to answer.
In the end, after minor deliberation, she figured a bit of truth wouldn't hurt. "When I was a kid, my mom was always away. She was fresh out of residency and was starting a career as a surgeon, so she was always busy, and my dad would try and make up for that. He was a terrible cook, but he somehow was able to bake a few things perfectly. My favourite was his peach pie." Clarke started, before finishing up with Lexa's skincare for the time being. "I can't have pie all the time, but I can have something that reminds me of him and is pretty much the same as orange juice, health-wise. So since I rolled D.D. tonight, I figured I deserved something nice, and...yeah."
"That's a better answer than I thought you'd give. Thank you." Lexa offered, her thanks sounding a little strained and forced, but otherwise, the girl sounded a little thoughtful and relaxed.
"Yeah, no worries." Clarke replied with a smile, even if Lexa's eyes weren't open to see it. It was just nice to be so, well, cordial. The angry glares from earlier had still happened, but there was no reason for Lexa to seem so relaxed if she wasn't. "Anyway, that carton's yours to keep. I can't make you stop drinking tonight, but I can say that it's probably a good idea to give yourself a decent chunk of time to recover. I've got some energy bars for you, so you'll have something solid in your stomach, but it's just best to take it easy on the drinking for a bit."
Lexa let out a hum, acknowledging Clarke's words as she set the mouthwash on the counter and took hold of the carton. Lexa felt for the cap and made quick work of it before taking a brief sip; honestly, Clarke wasn't sure why Lexa wouldn't open her eyes, but she wasn't about to complain if it meant the girl's temperament remained the same.
Another hum escaped the girl, eyebrows rising in turn as Lexa licked her lips. "That's...delicious." The girl spoke, small hints of a smile curling at her lips.
"That's what I keep telling people. I'm glad you like it." Clarke shot back with a wider grin, enjoying that softer side rising to Lexa's surface, one she'd only been able to appreciate from a distance. Even that tiny smile is just...it's freaking swoon-city. What I would do to those...okay, Clarke. Focus. She's drunk, you're sober. Get a grip.
"This is strange." Lexa let out after a few seconds of silence had passed, brow starting to furrow slightly. It wasn't enough to temper Clarke's improved mood, but it did have her a little concerned. However, Lexa managed to speak again before she could ask for some clarification. "We're in a washroom, talking to each other. We're supposed to be rivals, and we're talking about juice."
Lexa's sheer confusion and disbelief seemed to be pushed into that last word, as if it was so unbelievable that two young women could talk about their favourite drinks. Even if they were so-called rivals.
"I never planned it that way...the whole rivalry shtick. I definitely thought you were going to Clarkson or Minnesota, not to one of our cross-town rivals...but here we are." Clarke noted thoughtfully, giving a shrug at the magnitude of coincidence that had fallen into her life.
"Don't downplay our rivalry during high school. This isn't new for either of us. You were always so annoying, such a pest when we played against each other." Lexa stated firmly, that anger and frustration from before returning, though maybe not to the same levels. Not to hatred, at least not yet.
Clarke let out a sigh and perched herself on the counter space beside Lexa. "I never really thought of it as a rivalry, Lexa. You were the Amanda Kessel of our regional circuit, like Sidney Crosby playing against house league players. When I first played against you, I finally saw Olympic talent up close and personal." Clarke explained with as much care and calm into her words as to not sound too weird. She didn't idolize Lexa or anything, after all. "You ran through me like a buzzsaw, and with each mistake I made, I saw the pure talent it took to exploit them. But I also saw ways I could have done better, if I were faster, more mobile, had better stick control, had better positioning, timed my pinches better, and everything. I saw a standard, and I saw it wasn't impossible to catch up to."
At that, Lexa's eyes finally opened, those green eyes piercing hers intensely, gauging something in her expression to determine...well, something else that Clarke wasn't sure of. Sincerity, maybe? Who knew? Lexa's brow furrowed deeper as colour took over the girl's face, a clear enough sign of some sort of anger that Clarke couldn't help but mourn that relaxed simplicity from minutes ago.
"How did that not make me your rival in your eyes?" Lexa asked, sounding more than a little like a member of the inquisition, but there was some hesitance to that anger. It came on stronger as the words came out, and the girl's eyes still held what Clarke thought might have been some hopeful caution, but was probably just skepticism.
"I'd get excited when I got to play you. I don't have your raw talent, I had to learn the game to keep up, and watching tape and doing non-stop training drills for practice every day couldn't teach me how to handle someone like you on the ice. Only you could." Clarke clarified, hoping that simpler explanation made some sense to the brunette.
Instead, Lexa's head shook slightly, jaw setting in anger. "Are you saying I don't know hockey? That I'm all tools and no toolbox?" Lexa demanded, growing angrier in that calm and silent, but deadly sort of way.
Angry enough for Clarke to step in quickly. "No, not at all." Clarke blurted out, which seemed to be taken as sincere, given Lexa's anger dropped away for full on skepticism. "Look, you can go into any game without knowing who you're playing, and dominate. You don't have to think two or three steps ahead all the time because you can read the play on the fly, adjust on the fly, all at top speed. And if something goes wrong, you still have the skill and athleticism to make up for it most of those times. Your mind can keep up with your skill and your body, that's rare."
As Clarke spoke, she watched Lexa's face growing slightly redder, which was a good sign given how pale the girl had been before. Still, it was a little confusing, given the girl wasn't angry anymore. Lexa swallowed hard twice, nodding slightly to herself before turning her gaze to the opposite wall, away from Clarke. "So what were you talking about, then?"
"Basically what I said. I'm not you...I don't have that raw athleticism or skill. I had to learn the game, study my opponents, and gameplan to be effective. I mean, I can wing it pretty decently if I have to, but I make my way on sheer effort, my memory, and my defensive play. For instance, that play last week leading to the tie goal? I watched tape of your team making that play four times this season. I saw it coming a mile away, and I adjusted so I'd cut you off from the pass. I knew I'd have a fifty-fifty shot at getting a breakaway, and my odds won out that time." Clarke clarified, smiling at the memory of having been able to help her team earn a tie.
"You won't get so lucky next time." Lexa grumbled, rather than growled, so Clarke knew that those words weren't so much a threat as a complaint. It was a nice shift in hostility, to be frank.
"Maybe, maybe not. All depends on if your coach considers matching our lines up for once." She shot back, but their discussion had certainly trailed far off topic, and Clarke decided to reel it back in. "But enough about hockey. Tonight's Octavia's birthday, and we came here to have fun, celebrate, and to outshine the others just a little...and I'm pretty sure we've accomplished that."
Lexa let out a quiet groan. "Griffin, you realize that I nearly puked in front of the group a little while ago?"
Clarke leaned over and shoulder nudged the brunette. "Well, we'll just have to figure out a way to erase that from their memories, won't we?" She asked with a grin, earning another of those tiniest of smiles from Lexa that honestly had her heart feeling as if she'd just been sprinting. It was a bit of a breathless experience, but she managed to draw in enough to continue. "But enough with the Griffin crap. I'm not in the military, you can use my first name."
Lexa's eyes found Clarke's again, all intense and curious. "I'll see if I can handle that...Clarke."
Suddenly, the blonde wasn't sure if she made a terrible mistake, because had she not been already sitting, her legs would have gone a little weak at how her name sounded on Lexa's lips. Hell, Clarke needed a second or two to realize she was biting her own lip in response to it all, and if that wasn't a little embarrassing, she wasn't sure what was, given how she absolutely KNEW she had a 'look' when she was aroused. O and Raven made fun of her about it all the time, so clearly Lexa would be able to tell so long as she was even half as perceptive as Anya. I have to stop making a fool of myself...but if she keeps being so fucking gorgeous around me, then what hope do I have?
Lexa took a long drink from the peach nectar and grabbed the eyeliner Clarke had laid out for her. It wasn't much, but Lexa applied it with wizard-like precision and speed, adding a few swipes of Clarke's mascara to finish the simpler look. Not that Lexa looked any less enchanting or fierce without the eyeshadow. "We should probably get going." The girl noted quietly as she washed her hands and toweled them off.
At that, Lexa pivoted and marched off and out the washroom door, nearly bumping into Anya, who was right outside, whether having waited there, or perhaps had coincidentally just arrived. Clarke would have placed her bets on the former, if she had to. Anya was far too protective to let Lexa vanish from her sight at a party for more than a few minutes.
Clarke took a few moments to pack up her things and enjoy the calm, tension-less atmosphere now that Lexa was gone. She'd see the brunette soon, within a minute or two, but she needed a breather to center herself again and focus. It was only about eleven thirty, there was still plenty of party left.
She let out a groan at that thought. It's gonna be a long, long night...
A/N: Okay, so I guess I'm breaking the party up into thirds, because when I finished this chapter (which ran longer than I thought it would), and looked at my outline, I had around 6-7k words left of material for the event, and so I figured it'd be more digestible in 7k-ish installments.
I'd been eagerly waiting to get to the first real meaty Clexa scene, and to get to Anya/Raven stuff...mission accomplished?
Anywho, thanks so much for supporting this story, and for reading! I hope you've had a great first half of September so far :)
