It's past eleven when they decide to go to Raven's. The fact that there's no practice the next day plays a big part in the decision, and frankly, Clarke just wants to have a good time. It's been a while since they have last had a drink with Bellamy, Monty and Murphy – the whole gang together, like in the good old days.
Raven brings one of her weird board games that no one understands (as usual), and while Murphy is complaining about the rules, almost spilling his drink in anger, Clarke enjoys the game - turns out she's not half bad at it.
"And with that… I'm the king of Tokyo, now! Insert diabolical laugh."
"Well, Clarke, fuck you." Says Bellamy, looking at the board with a loss of concentration.
A shit-eating grin spreads across Clarke's face, from ear to ear. "And my cyber bunny", she adds, pointing at the ridiculous rabbit monster she chose as her character.
"Yes, the cyber bunny too, one must not forget the cyber bunny", says Bellamy, smiling despite the half-serious frustration in his tone.
Raven interrupts the friendly banter by scooping up six dice and shaking them vigorously with both hands, eyes closed in a prayer. "Please make me lucky, I'll… I'll stop swearing, I promise!"
Clarke raises an eyebrow, skeptical, knowing that there's no way in hell that Raven will keep this promise. The dice stand still, revealing two threes, one two, two attacks and an energy cube. Raven decides to reroll her two and her energy cube, creating two more energy cubes.
"But I want a three!" she screams, and throws the two dice again. She gets a one and a heart. "Fucking shit!"
"What happened to not swearing?" asks Clarke nonchalantly, sipping from her drink (and grimacing because for a second, she forgot what Octavia put in there). "Octavia, how much of that is pure vodka?"
The brown headed demoiselle appears from the kitchen, bottle in hand. "No idea, I just went crazy in there. Let's hope you survive."
Clarke shrugs lazily and observes as Monty takes his turn, adding life points to his monster, the Meka Dragon. "Yeah, fingers crossed", she mumbles, crossing her fingers and shaking them in Octavia's direction. Then, after Bellamy attacks her monster, dealing two damage points, she grabs the dice with a smug grin. "Alright, kids, this might hurt", she declares confidently, then drops the six dice on the table's hardened surface. She figures it'd be profitable to throw again the two life points with an energy cube, and it gives two twos. A little gasp of excitement later, she's dealing three points of damage to all monsters outside Tokyo, and adding a personal little victory dance to top it off.
Murphy frowns, looking at his monster's card, then back to the board. "That was pure luck."
But Clarke doesn't take the bait, smiling instead. "Is your alien dead?"
"I guess it is, yeah. I was about to get a refill anyway." At that, he leaves the table, on his way to the kitchen.
The room erupts in laughter as the squad hears him mutter: "Jesus, guys, get a room!", no doubt referring to Lincoln and Octavia.
It takes two more turns for Clarke to land a devastating blow on Bellamy's monkey, effectively reducing his health to one tiny point. "I hate your game, Raven", he sighs loudly, lifting his gaze to the ceiling to avoid Clarke's victorious glance.
"That's 'cause you're not an expert at it, like Clarke and I."
Raven finishes her moves, landing enough strikes to reduce the Cyber Bunny's health considerably. "Looks like your bunny's on the breach of death. You have only one option left. Yield!"
"Not a chance!" Clarke shouts valiantly, throwing the dice and getting shitty results - two ones, a two, a three and two energy points. She rolls again, to no avail. "Fuck. Alright, Raven, you're the king, put you little dinosaur shit in there and let's get this over with."
Raven's insulted scoff is so convincing it's almost uncanny. "His name is Giga Zaur, and he helped me win the game!"
"Hey, guess what? I still don't care."
"But you gotta give him the respect he deserves! He fought a dragon, a bunny and this weird alien thing!"
Bellamy lets out an unintentional laugh, eyeing the last drop of bourbon in his glass. "I think your games are destroying friendships. Why not play beer pong or truth or shot?"
"Well I do have Never have I ever in my bag", Raven shrugs, taking a quick sip of her drink.
Excited, Bellamy literally jumps and runs for said bag, not even waiting to get Raven's approval. "Why didn't you tell us before making us play that weird game?"
"It's King of the Tokyo, for your information, and it was very fun!" Counters Raven, pointing at the box then turning to face Monty. "Monty liked it!"
The boy replies, scratching his head with an uncomfortable wince. "It's always fun for the person who wins, that's a given. But I died after like two turns, Raven, so yeah I loved watching you guys play."
Angered by the comment, Raven throws her hands up in the air in disinvolvement. "Fine, suit yourself." Then, she turns around to call Octavia, Lincoln and Murphy. "Guys, we're starting another game! Oh, and bring your drinks for this one!"
The party of three arrives, each of its members carrying a drink. Octavia drops on the couch, inviting Lincoln to do the same. A solitary fellow, Murphy settles on a cushioned chair in the corner of the room. "What's this one about, Raven? And in what ways will it destroy our lives, this time?" Questions Murphy, flashing Raven one of his sharp glances.
Clarke steps in as well, still sore after her recent loss. "Yeah, and I'm still not over you killing my Cyber Bunny, so you better have an awesome game prepped out for us, Reyes."
It's Bellamy who answers, taking Raven's defense. "Guys, chill out, it's Never have I ever. Nothing wrong with that, right?"
There's a whisper of general approval. The group quickly gets past the initial indecisiveness over who goes first, electing Raven as the lucky winner – she's the one who brought the game, after all. She pulls out the first card, reading it aloud. "Never have I entered facebook while drunk."
Everyone except Raven takes a sip, which makes Clarke laughs softly. "Raven, you liar. Like, all these times you've drunk texted me at three AM about the important things in life."
"That was on messenger, okay?" Raven exclaims with a faux betrayed look. Then, hesitant. "Does that count?"
Bellamy shrugs, pulling out the next card. "Eh, it doesn't matter." He reads it, chuckling. "Oh, I like that one. Never have I ever stuck gum under a desk."
The whole room reacts rather unanimously – nobody drinks except Bellamy.
"But we've all done it!" he protests, trying to give a valid explanation. "I mean, we've all been dumb snotty kids who laugh at poop jokes!"
Everybody shares an incredulous glance. "Bell, don't worry, nobody's judging", assures Octavia, who already has the next card in hand. "I have an uneventful life, guys, so brace yourselves, I'll probably be the only sober one in the end." She reads the card and frowns. "Never have I ever lied to a friend to avoid a greater evil. What's with these dramatic questions?"
"O, remember about that dress you wore at Sylvia's cocktail-party-extravaganza?" Asks Clarke.
It takes time for the memory to resurface, but after a moment of reflection, Octavia almost screams in shock. "Yes! The one I lost the receipt for! It seemed uglier each time I tried it on!"
"Yet you couldn't return it, so I thought, might as well convince you that it's amazing."
"And you almost did! You told me that it looked like an eccentric dress Lady Gaga would wear at the Grammy's, remember?"
"No, I said Katy Perry, didn't I?" Asks Clarke, doubtful.
Octavia's about to reply when Bellamy pressures them into continuing the game, reminding them of the fact that they should be playing, not having girl talk.
"It's my turn, right?" asks Lincoln, half way into pulling out the next card. For the time being, he isn't entirely at ease with his girlfriend's circle of friends, insofar as he's seen them only a couple of times - and although it's always been a fun experience, the girls usually do the talking.
"Yeah, Linc, go ahead", invites Monty with a smile.
"Alright, here it goes. Never have I ever had sex outside."
The group shares an exclamation of surprise – it's a sudden change of theme, not that they don't like it. Bellamy drinks first, seemingly unaware of his sister's wide eyed, jaw dropped expression. But the moment worthy of an award is definitely Lincoln's quick sip, in the hope of avoiding being caught by Octavia. Raven points it out to her (in between giggles) though, and soon, the brunette is almost reddening in anger. "What the fuck, Linc? Did you do it on a washing machine, also? Or a pickup truck, eh, how about that?"
Her sudden anger is ignored by the others, seeing as how they're just eager to pursue the game. Clarke is the next to read a card. "Never have I kissed someone of the same sex."
Both Raven and Octavia drink, giving each other a peculiar look as Lincoln frowns – it's his turn to be confused over his lover's anterior sexual activities. For her part, Clarke finds it intriguing – could this mean they've kissed each other? "Now, now, girls, what does that mean?" asks Murphy, straightening from his seat in an attempt to get a better understanding of the situation.
"It means that we've tried things", shrugs Octavia, like it's no big deal.
Raven, on the other hand, is not on the same page at all. "Don't say it like that, O! You make it sound like we've had sex together!"
Clarke snorts in laughter and remains motionless to obtain better results out of her reflection (the alcohol not helping). "You kissed, though?"
"It was a practice run for future lays", explains Raven, and she gestures towards Octavia who corroborates. "People tend to override the fact that too much tongue is worse than none."
"Well thanks, Raven, I guess", notifies Lincoln with an uncomfortable smile.
A moment passes, during which Raven seems to be reflecting on a thought. She then breaks the silence, casting a glance at Clarke. "What about you, Griff? One would've thought that you'd have kissed Woods already, by this point."
The reaction is immediate. Clarke turns white (not red, surprisingly enough) and averts her gaze from Raven's, buying herself some time to make work of the jumble of words currently dancing in her mind. "Raven, just because SHE wants to fuck ME, does not mean it goes the same the other way around."
Soon, Octavia is bawling in laughter, hiding behind Lincoln's shoulder to simulate embarrassment – probably over Clarke's tenuous situation. "So, you admit that she wants to fuck you?" Then, quiet, like she's talking to herself. "This is literally pure gold."
"Would you just stop, with that? Geez, I can almost hear Charlie speaking through you, O."
"That's because Charlie's a part of us, now. Even though she's not here, she is, in a way…"
"Okay that was extremely creepy. Stop."
Raven peaks at Clarke from behind Monty's shoulder, her interest for the conversation increasing by the second. "But she is hot, I mean, you can't deny that."
Holy fucking fuck. Clarke isn't even sure she noticed Lexa in that way, let alone judged her looks on a scale, or even noticed anything other than her attitude and persona. The endless interrogation makes her want to dig herself a hole and stay hidden eternally.
"She is… Esthetically pleasant, I guess."
"Oh come on, Griffin!" Raven nearly shouts. "Esthetically pleasant? You think her ass is esthetically pleasant? Shit, I'm straight and I'd gladly screw her."
"Then you are most likely not straight, Reyes", Murphy level-headedly points out.
"So what, do you have a masters degree in sexuality, Murph?"
Observing his inability to reply, Raven nods contently. "Yeah, didn't think so."
Octavia, seeing how the situation desperately needs some damage control, reaches for Clarke and nudges her shoulder playfully. "All we're saying, Clarke, is that Lexa is the perfect one night stand: she's confident, she doesn't give a single fuck about anyone – so no hard feelings the next day, and she's probably a sex goddess, after all these chicks she's been through…"
Clarke sighs loudly, taking a big sip of her drink as if hoping the booze would suddenly make her unable to discern any words, therefore extinguishing the whole conversation. "Can't you see I despise her?"
"Exactly, it'd make for some pretty amazing hate sex", Raven points out, smirking seductively.
The remark doesn't go unnoticed, and Bellamy, at last, joins the conversation - ignoring Clarke's deadly scowl. "So, if I understood right… Clarke is about to break the unwritten rule that compels her to marrying me?"
"Oh my god, that's true – it would break the prophecy!" exclaims Raven, burying her head in her hands like a poor soul in despair.
"The prophecy? You've got to be fucking kidding me." Clarke protests vigorously. "Last year, it was Bellamy, a minute ago it was Lexa and now it's Bellamy again?"
"She's right, Raven, we've got to make a choice!" Octavia yells back, shaking her friend furiously, almost making a glass topple over in the process.
It's suddenly too much for Clarke, and her annoyance turns into anger. "Alright, nobody gets to make a choice except ME! I don't want to marry Bellamy, and I don't want to marry Lexa, and-"
"Who said anything about marrying Lexa?" Questions Raven, her playful expression turning into a puzzled one in the snap of a finger.
"Geez, Griff, you're already fantasizing over marriage?" throws Octavia, perplexed. "This is getting further than I expected."
Clarke is left completely, utterly baffled by that last comment. "Then what in the holy fuck did you expect?"
"Alright, I kinda expected to walk in on you guys doing it in the lockers. But that's all, I swear!" admits Octavia, like she's confessing to a first-degree murder.
Bellamy suddenly gets up, part of him wanting to settle the issue while another part of him simply wants to get a refill. "Okay, this is turning into a police interrogation. Just quit it with the bullshit and let's play beer pong instead!"
It's almost as if Lincoln is automatically triggered, warming up in excitement. "Yeah! That'd be nice!" But truly, he'd play anything - from water polo to My little pony roleplay, to escape the heated exchange going on between the girls.
And yeah, they finally let their friend off the hook (about time), but as she misses one of her shots, ignoring Octavia's cry of despair, Clarke cannot help but think: where do these weird assumptions come from? And how far are they from reality?
The ice is just another type of floor. Sure, it severely punishes any misstep, and rumbles with each stroke of the blade, each switch of stance.
To Lexa, though, ice is a familiar as the crackled floor of her childhood house.
She sees it cut open, then reborn, and again, lacerated by the blades – yet never does it complain. Ice is ice. Hockey is hockey.
But Lexa is not just a hockey player. She is a fighter. Each time her skates touch the ice, she is a soldier at war. Only then does she permit herself to unleash anything she'd normally hold back.
With her jersey on, her helmet fastened, her shoulder pads enlarging her frame, she is someone else – a battle hardened warrior, a leader. She will stop at nothing to win - absolutely shameless when it comes to hammering a player into the boards, or taking a hit bravely, without a single wince.
Therefore, she was not surprised when she was named captain of the Arkadia Strikers. Getting traded was a surprise (and that's another story), but she'd be lying if she claimed she felt anything other than pure satisfaction the moment her coach tossed the "C" embroidered jersey at her, inviting her teammates to applaud their new captain.
A deep pride fills her as she makes her way to her stall on Monday morning, careful about not pitching her bag too hard next to the goalie as she appears to be concentrated on strapping her pads on. There's a moment of uncertainty during which Lexa asks herself whether the blonde would mind her sitting next to her, but then she remembers not to care too much about these things. She's here to play hockey, isn't she?
As soon as she hits the rink, girls are swooning over her new captain attire, and she does her best to appear as leader-like possible to ensure the respect of her teammates (also because Wayne, her most recent conquest, appears to be turned on by the "C").
"Alright, whatever you do though, make sure you cover that chick who's coming up with a pass." Lexa advises one of her younger teammates, who's still not completely familiar with certain strategy concepts.
"I don't think I can intercept if I'm coming from afar", the rookie replies, leaning on her stick with a sceptical expression.
Lexa crosses her arms, gently shaking her head from side to side. "It's not about intercepting. You wanna pressure that puck, that's all you want. Don't even look at it, just focus on the player. You come in as close as you can, you show her that she's gotta make a choice fast, and chances are she'll miss."
"Right, so I make her lose focus."
"Yeah, exactly."
From the corner of the eye, Lexa sees a group of players preparing for a shootout exercise, and she excuses herself, eager to get in line.
The coach, along with her assistants, sets up a number of cones in a zig-zag formation, then orders the players to circle around them in order to get to the goalie.
The instructions prove to be difficult to pay attention to, as Lexa's gaze trails to the blonde goalie skating around her net nonchalantly - like it's her office, her den, her property. When she pulls down the mask, piercing blue eyes staring at the players like she's analyzing them, it makes Lexa feel strange, maybe even intimidated, for the first time in her entire career (although she would rather die than admit it).
And suddenly, she remembers her name. Clarke Griffin. Clarke, who gives her nothing but shit, yet has this grandeur, and makes god-like saves, and strides around like she's already proven what she's capable of.
It makes Lexa both impressed and infuriated. She wants nothing more than to tear the focus off Clarke's face, to expose her flaws, to make her vulnerable.
The whistle blows. Her body reacts like it's been mechanically set off – both her legs give vigorous strides, and the cold air lashes against her face, reducing her entire world to the ice, the puck and the goalie's sturdy, calculated features.
Boy does she want to deke her, this time – she hopes it'd make her see who's the boss out here. There's a warm prickle in her guts when she thinks of dominating Griffin, of showing her the extent of her superiority, of proving herself to her.
Lexa chooses to fake left, and she stirs right at the last instant, setting the table for a perfect backhand.
Then all of a sudden there's a stick poking at her puck, and her instinct takes over, breaking the movement, recovering that fucking puck, but it's too late – she's heading for the board. She settles at the back of the goal, pausing to recollect her thoughts. What in the hell…?
Griffin turns her head, peeks at her through the meshes of the net. And that's what sets her off – this half grin, this I beat you. That's what makes her go for a furious wrap around, stuffing the puck past the pads then leaving without a second though. She hears Clarke cursing, players reacting confusedly, and sees the coach's frown, yet she can't repress the burning in her chest, the helpless passion in her guts. She notices, before getting to the bench, her inability to point out any other event that has angered her to that point.
She is as surprised to see Clarke waiting for her outside after practice as she is to have been named captain. What does surprise her is the look of confusion on the goalie's face, and the fact that she seems more perplexed than mad.
"What the fuck did you eat for breakfast?" asks Clarke, arms crossed, leaning against the brick wall of the arena.
For a moment, Lexa almost feels like laughing (laughing? Really?), as the question was not at all what she expected. Instead, she quirks a brow, gaging her opponent. "I don't like being poke checked, Griffin, that's something about me."
"Yeah, and I don't like your attitude, I guess we can't have it both ways."
There's something about Clarke's calm, collected expression that makes Lexa feel off balance. "It's simple enough to me, at least: you don't humiliate me, Griffin, and I won't play asshole with you."
"Hold on, what?" the blonde snaps at her, frowning. "Humiliate you?"
She merely looks disgusted at that point, and Lexa fails to grasp the reason behind such a demonstration of sentiment. Clarke seems to notice her teammate's misunderstanding, and she squints her eyes indignantly. "You don't see it, do you? You come here like you own the place, like you're king shit, and then you expect me to bow down and join the club of your worshippers? What do you want me to say, Woods? Wow, you're so much better than me, wow, you're the best player I've ever seen! Would that rub your ego the right way?"
"That's just twisting my words-"
"But standing my ground is humiliating to you?"
It's upsetting to Lexa – seeing how Clarke is right, how she has no right to step on her, yet she's used to being the best player in a team, and having to compete for the title is both scary and exhilarating. "Oh, for god's sake, Griffin, you're telling me that while making that poke check you've never, not even for a single second, did it to make me look bad?"
There's a silence. Clarke pauses, pondering over the issue. Then she slowly nods, cooperative. "So, we're both jerks."
"I guess", Lexa agrees, shrugging.
As silence seems to settle down again, Clarke darts her gaze upward, finding Lexa's, and she seems passive, willing, even. "I'll cut the crap, Woods, I'll be honest with you– I think you're the best forward the Strike has had in years. With that being said, you're an ass. But you're also part of this team, you said it yourself. Now, I'm sick of this thing we've got going on, so I'm willing to make a truce - on the ice, no hard feelings. You do your job, I do mine, and we have each other's back."
"Well congrats, Griffin, I gotta admit I'm surprised! It's the first time you've been reasonable since I met you. But yeah, sure. Should we shake hands or do you wanna… I don't know, fist bump or something?
She can see that Clarke is scanning her face, unsure if she's serious or sarcastic. "How about a big, friendly hug?" She asks, grinning.
And Lexa knows she's not serious. However, she can't supress the remarkable amount of embarrassing thoughts swarming right past her mental barriers. Thoughts of Clarke's shadow of a smile, thoughts of the warmth radiating from her skin, and the intrepid glow of her blue eyes – holy fuck, why is she thinking about this? No need to panic, she's definitely felt this before (no she hasn't). It's physical attraction. It's need. She craves Clarke, like one would crave chocolate or a nice piece of strawberry shortcake.
"Eh, don't push your luck, Griffin."
God, those lips.
"I thought you wanted to give me a fist bump?" the goalie asks sneakily, accompanying the remark with a singular smirk.
"You drive a hard bargain; you know that?"
It's absolutely fucked up – how Lexa loses track of her emotions, how she catches herself smiling fully, for the first time in months.
"Well what do you say, Woods? At least it'd be less stuck up than a handshake." Clarke solicits her again, presenting her with a shy fist.
Lexa wants to refuse, but she suddenly thinks, fuck it, and she fist bumps Clarke, there, it's no big deal. The feeling is unusually pleasant, leaves a burning sensation on her knuckles (right where they touched with Clarke's).
She was doing just fine, really, before this blue-eyed goaltending prodigy jumped with both feet into her mind, only to test her, to force her out of her comfort zone and into an abyss where she hasn't proven herself yet, isn't the boss anymore – she's just plain old Lexa, and it's scary as hell. Later, in the parking lot, both hands deep into her bag in their mad search for keys, she's filled with something rare and unfamiliar.
Doubt.
And all through the drive back home, even her favorite songs blasting through the speaker cannot drown out the voice in her head, repeating one dizzying question: what if it's not lust?
As always, thanks for reading and I hope you liked it! As for the reviews, please keep them coming, it's always a pleasure to read you guys!