Hello my dears! It's update time! I'm sorry if I took longer than usual, it was a complex chapter to write and I had to go back to school as well... Hope you will like it! And for those of you who would be interested in my writing soundtrack, I was listening to a song called Words in the fire by Patrick Watson while writing the jogging part of the chapter.
Happy reading!
xx
Griffin the muffin 7:24 am
Don't tell me you're not awake, Reyes, I know you.
The boardgame addict 7:27 am
Oh I am very awake now that you just woke me up thank you so much.
Griffin the muffin 7:30 am
I thought you were still doing these morning yoga sessions outside on your balcony to fool yourself into thinking you have a stable and organized life?
The boardgame addict 7:32 am
Not anymore and thanks for reminding me of my daily failures what would I be without you
Griffin the muffin 7:33 am
I think you'd develop the tendency of getting inside your car naked and thinking oh shit I forgot to put on clothes
The boardgame addict 7:35 am
I get your point what did you wake me up for?
Griffin the muffin 7:36 am
Might be a little late for brunch I decided to go on a jog
The boardgame addict 7:38 am
Oh you decided
Griffin the muffin 7:38 am
Yeah I decided
The boardgame addict 7:40 am
Well something's wrong
Griffin the muffin 7:40 am
What
The boardgame addict 7:41 am
How could you risk missing the extra extra runny egg yolk?What happened to breakfast of champions, Griffin?You never miss breakfast of champions
Griffin the muffin 7:41 am
I know I hate myself right now
The boardgame addict 7:42 am
But whyyyyyy
Griffin the muffin 7:43 am
Reasonsssss
The boardgame addict 7:46 am
What kind
Griffin the muffin 7:46 am
Nothing important
The boardgame addict 7:46 am
You going with someone?
Griffin the muffin 7:47 am
Yeah
The boardgame addict 7:47 am
Who-who-who-who
Griffin the muffin 7:48 am
Woods
The boardgame addict 7:49 am
Hold on what?
Griffin the muffin 7:50 am
It's no big deal alright?I'm doing this team a solid
The boardgame addict 7:50 am
Hold on imma pick up my jaw it just snapped right off… go figure
Griffin the muffin 7:51 am
Raven
The boardgame addict 7:51 am
Yeah that's me.And who are you, by the way?
Griffin the muffin 7:52 am
Quit fooling around I'll explain later
The boardgame addict 7:52 am
I am now displeased
Griffin the muffin 7:53 am
I said I'll explain later alright?I told her 8:30 and I don't wanna be late gotta go now
The boardgame addict 7:53 am
Young lady
Griffin the muffin 7:54 am
You don't get to young lady me and I really gotta go
The boardgame addict 7:55 am
Why don't I get to do that?Makes me feel mature and important.Do I need a permit?
Griffin the muffin 7:56 am
Bye raven
The boardgame addict 7:57 am
Alright then, bye but don't forget to tell if ever the sex was good
Clarke almost replies with the middle finger emoji but then decides that the comment just isn't worthy of an answer.
On her way to the park, she realizes she's got no way of contacting Lexa whatsoever and her paranoia takes over until she sees her waiting, sitting on a bench, scrolling through a music playlist on her cellphone. She doesn't look like the person that's been dragged there forcibly – in fact, she seems relaxed, eager, even.
When she sees Clarke, she doesn't wave, just smiles, and while it may sound rather plain a reaction, it brings a fuzzy warmth to the pit of Clarke's stomach. She doesn't see Lexa smile often - she usually only gives half grins away, which tend to be hard to read.
But she's smiling, right now, and there's no doubt that she's comfortable with the whole activity.
"That's your spot, then?" the brunette confidently asks, gesturing at the greater than life scenery of hills and trees traversed by a dirt road.
She sounded both amused and impressed, and as both emotions are opposites in this case, Clarke hesitates between the two. Then she abandons halfway through the brainwork, settling her gaze on Lexa's arched brow that shows she clearly expects an answer.
"Yeah, I guess. My family and I used to do picnics here", she explains, and watches carefully as Lexa's smirk turns into a small pout of impress and acceptance.
"Cool", the taller woman expresses almost as a courtesy. She then stands up, shaking off her soreness and placing an earplug in her ear.
Clarke accidentally notices the size of her quads, and the way they swell significantly when she flexes them. "What are you listening to?" the blonde casually asks as they make their way to the track. Lexa examines her cautiously, and Clarke wonders why she feels the need to treat a common question this seriously.
"Not sure it's your type", Lexa finally shrugs, handing her the second earbud.
Clarke immediately recognizes the sharp riff of Rush's Best I Can and feels the smile as it creeps up, the nod of excitement that starts to agitate her head. "Are you kidding me?"
"What?" Says Lexa, perplexed.
Clarke chuckles softly, removing the earbud from her ear and handing it to the forward with a half grin. "You assumed I was the top 40 type, is that it?"
Realization comes washing over Lexa's face as she lifts her eyes to a clear sky. "I did not", she calmly proclaims with a solemn look.
"Oh my god, you so did. I feel betrayed…" The goalie deplores, breaking into a small jog that Lexa immediately emulates.
"Less talk, more action", she mumbles, shaking her head in disbelief like she's not sure how they've gotten to such a distinct subject.
A small pause ensues, quickly broken by Lexa adding a few more words. "But yeah, you totally looked like the top 40 type."
"Well you looked like you'd bang your head like crazy to Lamb of God", Clarke shrugs, trying to be the easy going one, and failing as she lets small hints of embarrassment show.
Lexa frowns, and her small acceleration is probably due to frustration. "Is that meant as an insult?"
"See, I knew you were the type."
"For the record, metal is just as complex and harmonious as rock, but not everyone has the capacity to enjoy it", the brunette claims vehemently, and Clarke is rather happy to notice that she succeeded at pinpointing one of Lexa's interests.
They make their way down the first (and only) straight line of the trail, dominant sounds being the soles rubbing against the dirt and the occasional chirping of birds. Ten minutes go by this way - just running and looking around, just enjoying the peaceful environment and the way the wind caresses their face like mother nature caresses her children.
"Just curious", starts Clarke, as she catches up on Lexa, "what do you like other than rock and metal?"
"It's already pretty vast, don't you think?" Answers Lexa with her usual straight, impassive countenance.
"It is if you count all the other in betweens."
"How about if I judge your taste instead?" Lexa offers casually.
Impulsive, Clarke's eyebrows shoot up – she didn't expect such a reversal of situation. Truth be told, Clarke takes a lot of pride in her music preferences, hence the delight rising in her chest at Lexa's invitation. She licks her lips anticipatedly, eager to unpack the extent of her musical knowledge. "Led Zeppelin?"
"Is that meant as a serious question?" Lexa rolls her eyes, tongue slightly sticking out.
"Metallica?"
"Love them to death."
Clarke cannot help the smile that slides along her lips, and she is now running backwards, front facing Lexa. "Genesis?"
"Alright, you're getting warmer", the forward concedes with a thoughtful smirk.
"Peter Gabriel?"
"Don't push it!" Lexa warns, then she adds with a defeated laugh, "alright, I might've sung my lungs out to Big Time once or twice, but that was a moment of weakness!"
Clarke gasps, then serves her an amused glance that, as expected, brings an enormous amount of pride tumbling out of Lexa. "Don't you dare tell anyone", she menaces with a sharp glare, but Clarke only chuckles.
"Rolling Stones?"
"For sure, man."
Clarke's gaze lights up - the enhancement makes her downright radiant with bliss. "Alright, it's make or break for this one. Radiohead?"
"Fuck yeah!" exclaims Lexa, and Clarke knows she's hit the bullseye, with the way Lexa's grin has become a full toothed one – and such a sight is of utmost rarity.
Clarke thrives on momentum, and right now, she's on a roll. "Muse?"
She watches as Lexa becomes the living portrait of exhilaration, and she gives her a friendly pat on the back. Clarke blinks, blinks again – what the hell just happened? Did she just get patted on the back by Lexa Woods?
"Respect, Griffin, respect! You've got good taste." The hockey center declares, and her sharp green stare makes a weird buzz flow through Clarke's veins.
The dirt trail twists around a hill flank, dips right below, then meanders towards flowering trees and thick, coarse wheat. The two women cut right through both sides of the field separated by crooked fences. Birds come flying away immediately, scared by this sudden disruption of their morning routine.
Of all the trails, this is Clarke's favorite one. It holds a nostalgic flavor whose cause remains unknown - even after all these years. Numerous runs have brought her stumbling upon undisclosed sorrows, tears long forgotten leaking once again, and she would simply shrug it off, come back the next day and run herself to the ground.
Dad used to put the plaid right there.
The side of their calves are itching with the wheat that brushes against them, and the sun is surprisingly strong this early in the day, but Clarke lives for moments like these. She missed running this trail, missed the noise of the birds jumping from one branch to the other, missed the crushed dirt rolling under her feet. Out here, she feels grand. Out here, she feels like a giant.
They turn again, this time licking the side of the forest. However, they don't pierce its border - they merely skirt around each tree trunk until the valley returns, until wheat turns into grass once again.
They gather sight of an imposing oak tree standing right atop a hill, and only then do they stop.
"How about a hill run?" Clarke asks, wiping the sweat trickling down her brow.
If Lexa is tired, she doesn't show it, for her ego has been called upon by Clarke's invitation. She neatly makes sure to get to the top of the hill first (only a millisecond before, Clarke will later swear). And when they realize where they are, realize that they've been running for hours and their legs are basically shaking with exhaustion, they drop right down next to one another, relishing the softness of grass against their skin.
"This is nice", Clarke softly declares after one or two minutes of huffing and puffing.
Lexa looks at her, and that's when she realizes how close they are, how their breaths are mingling, how she can distinctly observe each parcel of Lexa's features – from her cutting jaw, to her sharp cheekbones, to the feral intensity of her gaze.
After a quick moment of inspection, Lexa speaks out, and her voice is assured, unwavering (unlike Clarke's if she were to speak). "Are you getting used to my fuckboyness, Griffin, is that it?"
The answer comes shooting out of Clarke, with no hesitation. "No."
"Are you sure?"
Clarke sees the glint in Lexa's eyes, and finds it strangely similar to amusement. She wonders if this is the product of folly or simply a hallucination, yet she is unable to revoke the sight – how for as little as an instant, Lexa seemed glad, diverted.
"No. I mean, yes", Clarke dumbly blurts out, lost in thoughts of Lexa's scarce smiles and crystalline laughter.
"I sensed a hesitation", Lexa teases lightly, eyes darted at the clouds.
"Oh my god."
Lexa props herself on an elbow and Clarke suddenly feels vulnerable under her calculating stare.
"Why did you bring me here, Griffin?"
There's a small hint of ice to the forward's tone, and it makes Clarke grimace.
"What kind of question is that?" She replies, trying to buy herself some time.
Unfortunately, it merely makes Lexa grow even more restless – she hates being denied an answer. "Very simple, I think. You just explain what you're trying to achieve with these attempts at befriending me."
Her voice has regained the totality of its cutting edge, and Clarke feels like a prey again, like a fly stuck on a web.
"Is it too much of a hassle for you to cope with the fact that some of us just want to be your friend?"
"Some of us. That means the team?"
"What difference does it make?" The blonde defends her terrain vehemently.
She notices the hurt infused in the taller woman's expression when she forcefully closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "Everything, really. Do you want me to be friends with you or with the team?"
The question cuts deep inside Clarke's defenses, leaves her wavering, disturbed and raw. "I don't know", she affirms with disarming franchise, and that makes Lexa lose her calm.
"I'm not nice, Griffin! When will you see that?" she almost yells.
"So you're an asshole all the time?" Clarke responds, matching her tone.
Lexa gets up, leaving the spot beside Clarke vacant, empty. The blonde fiercely refuses to acknowledge the lack of warmth that results in the action.
"Yes! Yes, I am! Not everyone is all cute and cuddly inside, Clarke, I am the one you see on the ice! I am this chick, alright? Stop trying to pry something out, because there's nothing there!"
"Then why the fuck do you act nice with me?"
"I don't act nice with you-" Lexa starts, hands turning into fists held securely at her sides.
"Yes, you do! You beat up a chick when she rubs me the wrong way! You laugh at my dumb jokes! You cheer me up when I'm having bad thoughts about my game!"
All color is seemingly drained from Lexa's face. "I don't blame you for thinking that."
"You're like two different people at the same time; it confuses the team! It confuses Reeve! It confuses me!"
At the 'me', Lexa's gaze softens for a second, but then Clarke swears she can see the cold as it reappears, the steel as it is slowly poured back into Lexa's gaze, and just like that, the moment has passed. "It's the crowd that did it. And maybe I was someone else before, I don't know, but what I do know is that it's what the people are paying for. Don't you see? That's why they traded Compton, that's why they got me instead of a rookie with twice the talent, they want the show, Griffin. I am the show."
A wave of sorrow washes over Clarke, and she sees Lexa for what she is – someone that's been used, changed, damaged. "Don't you see how sad this is?" Clarke asks, her voice belittled.
"I don't", Lexa affirms, rock solid, but she is lying, she could not possibly be telling the truth. Could she?
"That's why you use people, is that it?" Clarke asks, trying to be merciless, and failing to eliminate the twinge of emotion in her eyes.
"I don't use people", the other woman replies, but the way her voice sounds, it tells Clarke that she's found a weakness.
"You do know that Wayne will be heartbroken when you move on", the blonde proceeds cautiously.
"It only happened once, Clarke. She knew what she was getting into."
"She is my friend. But you took her, and threw her away. The crowd didn't do this, you did."
Lexa's jaw twitches. When she comes forward, Clarke realizes how tall she is, then she remembers how this woman hammers people into boards, how she fights with her bare hands, how most players of the league know better than to provoke her.
"Do you know what I've been through, Griffin?"
Clarke takes a deep breath, surprised by the lack of aggressiveness in this question. "No", she exhales, confused and half worried.
"I've been shaped into something. Over time. I've been taken – I was six, maybe, and I've been told 'Lexa, take that stick, and that's what you do'. Now I shoot pucks, and I beat up the guys that run into my goalie."
"That run into me", Clarke specifies with a look of urgency.
"That run into my goalie", Lexa counters sharply, but the way her eyes darken, the way she tenses, it says something else to Clarke. The opposite. Lexa punched Pam Reed harder than needed. She fought and spit blood, and held ice to her swollen face not because her goalie had been hit, but because someone had hurt Clarke. And maybe the latter woman won't be able to pinpoint it, to declare it without a doubt, but some hidden part of her knows. Woods is Lexa, Lexa is Woods. Humanity does not leave her as soon as she steps on the ice.
"Am I flesh and blood to you, Lexa?" Clarke asks briskly, and watches Lexa's gaze turn cautious.
"That is not the question-"
"And you are flesh and blood to me. Not a show, not an act, despite what assholes might've told you."
The whole experience turns surreal – Lexa fails at repressing her emotions, and they show. She's there, she's someone. Her eyes are greener than they've ever been, and hold more meaning than they ever have. "I think I will deceive you, Clarke."
"No, you won't." And she is absolutely certain of it.
"They've already told you who I am", the forward continues, and Clarke has trouble believing she's heard her swallow nervously.
"They didn't tell me you liked Radiohead. I believe you can still surprise me."
It's close to noon and the sun shines differently – light dances across Lexa's features, jumps over the bridge of her nose. She goes from brazen to child like, and the sun has no part in it when she tentatively sits under the oak with her back against its trunk, and folds her legs to make her chin rest against her knees. She looks wild and lost. Clarke's heart tightens painfully at the sight.
Lexa takes a deep breath, and her stare burns a hole in Clarke's very soul. "Don't call me Woods again", she demands.
It sounded like a plea.
They don't speak again for a whole five minutes. Instead, they breathe and watch. Watch the contours of the valley below, watch how life can still go on without their voices breaking the silence every now and then, watch each other, although it hurts.
"You'll have to work if you want to keep the job", Clarke asserts severely.
Lexa looks at her again – there it is, that lenient glance, and it makes Clarke believe that she only gets to see this side of her, the yielding one. "I will", the center assures with a quiet nod.
"This is why I brought you here", Clarke softly announces, and while she believes the other woman already knew, she sees the smallest glimpse of torment – but it fades as quickly as it came.
"Do you want to change me, Clarke?" Lexa asks, expression unreadable.
"Do you think you need it?"
"Probably."
The goalie nods calmly. "Then I won't."
Lexa's contrite gaze turns into a thankful one. She observes Clarke extensively, thoroughly, searching for a landmark or a base to elect as a starting point. "Is this how Woody and Buzz became buddies?"
"And with that the tide just turned, ladies and gentlemen. Would you look at that…" Clarke teases sourly, and it earns her an exasperated look.
"Shut up", Lexa mumbles, scowling with a small frown.
The goalie only smiles, and she knows what this whole thing means, knows that Lexa has accepted to show her true self, even though she doesn't think it exists.
"But yeah, I guess that's how", breathes Clarke mindlessly, and it makes her reflect on the situation.
Lexa's smile is imperceptible, could almost pass for a simple twitch of the jaw, but it's too late - Clarke has seen it. "Do we have to go on Disney adventures, then?" asks Lexa, clumsily marching into unknown territory.
"What do you mean by that?" the goalie questions further, brows lightly furrowed.
"I don't know, do we need to…" She draws vague hands gestures in the air to fuel her words. "Save the galaxy? Is that what they do in the movies?"
Clarke snorts in laughter, looking away to gather her thoughts. "They're fucking toys, Lexa – no, they don't save the galaxy."
"Then what?" She asks, and despite the idiotic feel to the question, she doesn't seem to lose her seriousness.
"They do toy adventures. I don't know, they escape an evil kid's lair, they escape a guy's house, they escape a kinder garden."
"They do a whole lot of escaping", Lexa points out, head cocked to the side.
Clarke sighs, a tad bit frustrated. "Yeah, so they do. Big deal. And for your information, I found it very entertaining."
"I didn't say it wasn't! Just a simple harmless remark, alright?" Lexa defends herself, raising her hands in submission.
Seeing as how it is impossible to get away with comments about Toy Story, Lexa moves on to the next subject. "So, what will our adventures be?"
"Disneylike?" Clarke asks.
"Erm, hockeylike if you don't mind", suggests Lexa prudently.
Clarke ponders the issue for a moment, then she shrugs. "Well, the kiddos are playing tomorrow and we're all watching it at Raven's. There'll be BBQ wings and popcorn ashes."
"Popcorn ashes?" Lexa raises a brow.
Clarke shrugs like it's obvious. "Yeah, Octavia is bad with microwaves - last year she pretty much incinerated the only bag we had… There was a lot of crying that night."
By kiddos, Clarke meant American League players. And although some of them are even older than her, she considers them youngsters, rookies.
Arkadia's Dropships are a pretty nice team, rank wise, but they don't always fare well against the Grounders, Polis' own feeder-club. The rivalry has been going own for the last two decades, ever since they faced in the 1997 championship finals, but Clarke is still a die-hard fan and has kept her jersey from when she used to play for them.
The popcorn is fine, this time, but Lexa's presence puts a bit of a damper on things, as Raven has been explaining to Clarke for the last half hour, talking her ears off in the process. "I know I told you to bring anyone, Clarke, but for fuck's sake, have you seen this chick? She scares Bellamy off - look at the guy, it's the third time he's gone to the bathroom since the preshow!"
Clarke clicks her tongue in frustration, and takes a sip of her drink. "It'll be better for the team! Chemistry, you know?" She adds a small motion of linking and unlinking her fingers for further demonstration.
"Yeah, good thinking – invite the goon to watch a game in a room full of enemy supporters."
The comment makes Clarke's gaze settle on Lexa's Grounder team jersey, 'Woods' neatly printed at the back in white letters, and the number twelve under it.
She herself has always been very cold with Polis fans, and she finds it surprising that Lexa is maintaining adequate conversation with Octavia and Monty about player statistics.
"She's not a goon", Clarke defends calmly.
Seeing Raven's exasperated demeanor, she pursues. "Didn't you say you found her tolerable off the ice?"
"Yes, but that doesn't mean I'll allow her to sit on my couch and eat my lightly buttered popcorn", the hot-headed host grumbles, crossing her arms.
The conversation is halted by Bellamy's remarked entrance – he's wearing his blue 'number one' fan hand glove, with the famous inscription Striker Fever. "Alright, I'm betting ten bucks on Arkadia!"
Clarke almost facepalms in embarrassment. "Wrong team, Bell. The Strike isn't playing tonight, and if you want proof – we're all here."
Octavia and Raven wave sarcastically, chanting a singsongy 'hello'.
"I knew that", he assures, trying to look confident – but honestly, no one is falling for it. "And they're the younger club, that means they're still kinda related to you guys."
Clarke smiles softly, and shares a look with her teammates. "What's the name of the team, Bell?"
He furtively tries to get a glimpse of Clarke's jersey, but she's seen it coming, and is quick at hiding its logo with both hands, grin expanding even farther along her lips. "No cheating", she orders with a knowing glance towards Lexa who still has both hands in the popcorn bowl.
"Something that has to do with space, right?" The young man splutters, rubbing at the back of his head.
The Strikers members appear unsure, and Clarke gives the 'not quite' gesture with her hand tilting from side to side. Bellamy groans, head thrown upward in surrender. "I swear, I knew it once!"
"Yeah, and I used to know my constellations by heart when I was ten", Clarke smiles.
There's laughter, and Bellamy forcefully tries to yank Clarke's arms off the logo, but she holds on tight, darting out her tongue in provocation. Raven flies to the rescue, pushes Bellamy away and shoves a bucket of hot wings in his face to distract him. "Here's the wings, now leave us alone with your botched partisanship, will ya?"
"Still! I'm betting on your team, you should be grateful!" Bellamy protests, dropping on the couch near Clarke, and snatching the remote from in between the cushions to turn up the volume.
"Everyone is betting on our team", Raven counters, moving her hand randomly like she's swatting away an imaginary fly.
The remark provokes a chorus of complains from Lincoln and Lexa, both dressed in Polis apparel. The two, sitting close to one another, have gotten acquainted over the evening and Clarke assumes Lincoln has now reached the 'bro level' where one usually gets awarded some of Lexa's signature fist bumps from time to time.
"I'm sorry, but you guys are a minority in this house", Raven declares with made up composure, as she struts around the house to grab some beers.
Clarke can see that Lexa is holding back, she can see it with the way her jaw is tensing, with the way her green eyes seem to be a shade darker, and she thinks, why isn't she saying anything? Then Lexa looks at her, and her gaze is softer, and Clarke does not like it that her brain is jotting down all these weird possibilities, one of them suggesting that Lexa is holding back for her. She opens her mouth to let more air in. Her imagination is playing tricks. Or so she hopes.
"That does not mean you will win", Lexa proceeds once she's regained her calm.
"But we will", Raven challenges back, competitiveness set ablaze by the last comment.
Clarke chuckles quietly, and she busies herself into absorbing the maximum amount of popcorn her mouth can hold without bursting open. She likes the way Lexa is staring at her in silent disapproval. "This could make the bets a lot more fun", the goalie announces, nodding in acceptance when Raven holds out a beer for her.
"What kind of bets do you take?" Lexa hurriedly shuffles through the pockets of her jacket, eager to be involved in the games.
Clarke gestures for everybody to stay calm, whistling her astonishment. "Let's not lose a hundred bucks over this", she advises.
She was talking to everyone, but Lexa apparently has taken it personal. "I'm surprised that you haven't heard of Polis' winning streak against Arkadia." She mentions, quite fierce.
"I have heard of it, yes, considering I have played for the team", the blonde retorts ironically, arms crossed and eyes gleaming with bittersweet amusement.
"Oh, so you would also happen to know that their defense has no depth", Lexa points out, opening her beer with the flick of a thumb – and Clarke has to admit that both the move and the flippancy it exerts are insanely hot.
"It has greatly improved over the last few years", Clarke snaps back with gritted teeth.
Lexa shrugs and takes a big gulp of beer, then rests the bottle against her shoulder like the laid-back stud she is. "Splitting their D-line was like skating through butter", the forward ripostes cockily and Octavia's eyes widen in incredulity mixed with shock. Even Lincoln looks impressed.
"I see you've never played against me", Clarke mumbles, and Lexa's gaze shoots up again with renewed confidence.
"I would've loved to", she slurs, eyes squinted in confrontation.
"Funny, because right now I'm thinking about all the nice saves I've made on you."
"You're just getting worked up because you know you don't stand a chance against my team", Lexa coolly replies, both feet pulled up to rest on a foot stool. She takes another swig of beer and watches as Clarke's gaze turns pensive, then malicious.
"Oh, I know exactly the kind of bet you'd like, Lexa."
The other woman's attention is definitely caught by anything even remotely competitive. "What's that?"
Clarke puts her fingers together like a stereotypical villain, Machiavellian grin and all, and she bears her gaze into Lexa's, emerald meeting cerulean in an intense faceoff. "There's pie in the fridge, right O?"
A brown head of hair suddenly jerks up. "Huh? What? That's for dessert, Clarke, don't you dare!"
"Even if I use it as a tool for my diabolical plan?"
That makes Octavia laugh a bit, and she loosens up. "As long as there's still some of it left for us to eat after."
"I got you. It probably won't be in good conditions, but still…"
And by then, everyone has picked up the clues, and knows where this is going. "The bet is simple. You bet on your team, and I bet on mine. The loser of the bet will suffer two consequences. The first one consists of wearing the other team's jersey for a week. And when I say wearing, that means you show it off everywhere, to practice, to the supermarket and whatnot. Regarding the second consequence, that is when the fun starts. Loser of the bet gets pied."
The group lets out an exaggerated gasp of surprise, Raven going as far as faking unconsciousness. "Yes, pied, ladies and gentlemen. And you will have the joy of watching it happen in front of your very eyes."
"I want to do it!" Screams Octavia, almost slapping Monty in the face when throwing her hand as a volunteering gesture.
Clarke strikes while the iron is hot. "You mean you want to pie Lexa?"
The look on Lexa's face is pure gold. To see her like this, jaw clenched and spears shooting out of her eyes, it makes something bloom inside of Clarke, a mix of fear and exhilaration.
The game shows itself uneventful for the first period, and Polis' defensive robustness has a big part of responsibility. Lexa doesn't shut up about Kelly Seal, a promising young defense, and her exceptional abilities. She's played with her and against her in Junior Major league, and she swears that "the kid kept her on her toes". Clarke must've rolled her eyes more than three hundred times in the last half hour.
Arkadia, 3rdin the league, and they hold their ground quite well against the big names.
"Ha! See, even the commentator is biased!" Raven exclaims, pointing at the TV screen like she expects the analysts to notice her.
"He praised Polis twice as much", Lincoln counter attacks with an irritated hand gesture. "And that doesn't mean anything, they say these kinds of things all the time."
Octavia smirks, probably weirdly turned on by her teddy bear of a boyfriend getting all worked up and passionate about her sport. "I'm gonna make sure the pie is unfrozen!" she announces. Then, from the kitchen. "Be right back!"
She's been out of the room for barely a minute when the first goal is scored by Polis and both cheers and boos are heard.
Jessie Tucker, with a gem!And she has mastered the backhand over the years it seems, just absolutely gorgeous - and great timing at seven minutes into the second period, this will fire up the troops!There's your Sunday night hockey, ladies and gentlemen, it is now one-nothing for the Polis Grounders!
"What the fuck is happening to Williams, tonight?" Raven shouts angrily, talking about the Dropships' goaltender.
"Doesn't have Griffin's catcher, I'll tell you", Bellamy compliments Clarke with a wink.
The blonde just scoffs, unimpressed with Bellamy's usual clumsy attempts at flirting.
"No, she does not indeed, fortunately", Lexa mumbles with another sip of beer, not once making eye contact with Clarke, and the latter woman does not know what to think of such behavior.
From then, it only goes downhill. Polis scores in the end of second period, and Clarke starts to think about how dumb she was to make a bet against Arkadia's bête noire.
The Dropships are defenceless against Polis's heavy artillery, Mitchells makes it 2-0!
"Hey, 'defenceless', that's an interesting choice of words, don't you think?" Lexa taunts, grinning arrogantly.
Clarke doesn't want to answer. Instead, she steals the popcorn bowl from Lincoln's lap (ignoring his cry of despair) and busies herself into eating the best-looking kernels.
By the time they get to third period, the whole Arkadia squad is lifeless, limp on the couch and almost entirely silent. Lincoln and Lexa, on their part, are singing traditional Grounder chants.
"Just drein! jus daun!" They scream, fist pumping in synch, and while Clarke has no idea what that means, she feels irritated by the whole scheme.
Justice is finally served when the Dropships score their first goal with five minutes remaining to the game, and it's like the whole room is brought back to life. A spark of hope is ignited.
With a differential of a single goal, Polis will have to watch out - their opponents have nothing to lose and they have definitely rebuilt some of their confidence.
The second goal makes them jump, popcorn shooting across the room and screams of excitement bringing the tension up to the ceiling. Raven is suddenly giving hugs to everyone (except for Lincoln and Lexa, sitting gloomily in their little spot) and Bellamy is showing his best victory dance (70's disco moves included).
Now, would you have imagined such an incredible turn of events tonight?The 'ships are literally everywhere on the ice, I mean, look at the solidity of the plays in this end of third period, there's just something that wasn't there before, and it can be like that for various teams in the National level as well - these are the nights where it suddenly just clicks.
During the break, bickering remains deep and passionate, Lexa going as far as saying that 'the win will be even more satisfying in overtime', which makes Clarke's gaze turn murderous. Then Octavia informs that she's put an extra amount of whipped cream on the pie, and neither Clarke nor Lexa can repress their nervous laugh.
Polis has chosen to add a defenseman to its triad, an interesting alternative to Arkadia's redesigned first line, composed of center Jen Slater supported by the team's sharpest wingers, Louisa Oquinn and Marjorie Sutton.
"They put Marge!" screams Raven, shaking Clarke by grabbing her shoulder.
"Yeah, and Polis put Seal", Lincoln challenges with a shit eating grin.
Lexa smirks at that, eyes still fixed on the TV screen as the 3 vs 3 is making sparks fly.
Polis is knocking on the door and Arkadia will thank Williams for this excellent save.That's the result of putting a line that cannot play defensively – they now have to rely on the goalie to make these important saves, and that shows a lot of trust.
"Oh god I'm sweating so bad right now", Raven whines, fanning her face with a flat hand.
Stress takes hold of them all – even Lexa, who taps her foot anxiously and shares side glances with Lincoln.
Here's Sutton with it, leads the 'Ships attack, scampers ahead, leaves it to Oquinn and here's Kelly Seal meeting her halfway through the zone and oh dear Lord!What a brutal check!Oquinn was pounded, she gets up, on her way to the bench.She must be dizzy right now, she had her head down and let me tell you that one must keep its head up when Kelly Seal is on the ice!Absolutely ferocious, with the shoulder, sent her opponent flying - and this is what she does best.
"That's roughing! Get her out of here!" screams Raven, and Lincoln glares at her disapprovingly.
"I don't think that was legal", Octavia shakes her head from side to side in disbelief.
Lexa clicks her tongue with an eyeroll. "Softies. You're a def, Reyes, you should know this was as clean as a newborn's buttocks."
"Well, I thought you were familiar with dickhead moves, but what do I know?" Raven bites back with gritted teeth.
Clarke interferes between the two. "Cut it off! What are you, kids?"
"So you're the expert, then?" Lexa cuts sharply with a mocking smile.
Clarke acts like she didn't notice the little attitude game, and simply states her opinion. "I admit it was a clean hit. And before you say anything, Raven - she had her head down, that's our loss. They'll just put Andrews instead."
And the coach does just that – Irene Andrews is seen jumping on the ice, eager to join the game. Polis replaces its center, but other than that, the line is left unchanged.
Andrews leaves it to Slater, Slater dangles, passes Kelly Seal in what looked like an effortless move!Slater gains speed, Jen Slater now with the wrist shot!Caught by Miller!
"Fuck yeah", grins Lexa.
Lincoln hits his beer against hers, then they both drink. Clarke tries to act composed, but she is growing restless with each passing second.
Arkadia wins the faceoff, they are closing the box.Sutton fakes the slap shot, hands it over to Slater.Slater, hesitating, looks for possible plays.From Slater back to Sutton again, Sutton shoots!But Miller froze it, 'no problem' she says, and she was never off position on this.Great shifting.
"Mills, baby, you got it tonight", Lexa praises with a smirk.
Clarke scoffs. Baby. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? She wonders if Lexa has played with Miller, and it'd be totally alright if only her mind didn't begin to drift and conjure images of them on the ice, sharing side glances and playful grins. She's not sure if she likes it. And Clarke tells herself that maybe (just maybe) it's because this whole teasing thing is their thing, and maybe she enjoys thinking that Lexa hasn't had these friendship moments with anyone other than her. Because Clarke Griffin is her goalie now. Clarke Griffin is the one who she should be gawking over, when she does all these incredible saves, and Clarke Griffin is the one she smiles at, the one she jokes with, yells at, tries to get truly, shockingly mad at, and fails.
Puck drops at the left side of the net, Polis gets possession but they are now fumbling the disk and they lose it to Irene Andrews, she was quite sharp on that.Andrews quickly leaving it behind to Marjorie Sutton, who then circles the net and stops in the enclave.Arkadia still menacing, and the Grounders are in deep.
Clarke sees Lexa's gaze darken, and she leaves her beer on the table to lean forward, eyes still stuck to the screen.
Sutton with a quick shot!Rebound, Miller couldn't tame the puck – it's caught by Slater in the enclave.There she comes, Mitchells is deked!Slater in front, turns around suddenly and SCORES!
Clarke jerks up, jumps in the air with little control over her movements – thank reflexes for that. She thinks she hears Octavia scream, but she's not sure of anything except the look on Lincoln's face, and the fierce hug she shares with Raven as the room explodes with cheers.
Jen Slater, and the spinorama!Dropships win in overtime!
"We say?" Clarke chants the team's traditional hymn, cupping an ear.
"Goodbye!" The rest of the Ark fans yell at once, clapping to each syllable.
"We say?" the blonde goalie asks again, insisting, and she catches Lexa's resigned glance from across the room.
"Goodbye!" They scream again – even louder, it seems.
Congrats are exchanged once again, and Lincoln reluctantly walks over and lets Octavia hug him and express her pride over the team's victory.
A bit further in the corner of the room, Clarke is taking off her jersey and handing it to a lukewarm Lexa who half-heartedly puts it on. "I get that you want to pie me now?" the brunette asks with a quizzical glance.
"Absolutely", replies Clarke, motioning for Octavia to go get the pie.
"Will I get to clean my face after it?" Lexa adds, grimacing doubly.
"Only if I feel like it", the goalie replies with a wink, which just makes Lexa scowl.
It seems she's got a sense of honor, for she doesn't complain once – just deals with the punishment, and Clarke tries not to find her adorable with an inch thick of whipped cream leaving only her eyes to be seen glaring menacingly at her tormentors.
Even once Lexa's all cleaned up, Clarke cannot control her laughter.
"This is not funny", the forward snaps sharply.
"It's hilarious", Clarke replies in between giggles.
"Mockery is not the product of a strong mind", Lexa retorts, her jaw twitching frustratingly.
Clarke dips a finger in the destroyed pie's whipped cream, and arches a taunting brow. "You look like an angry mouse."
"Shut the fuck up."
"That wasn't an insult, that was a compliment – aren't mice cute?" Clarke's grin is childish.
"Mice are weak little squeaky fucks", Lexa bites back like she's trying to keep intact the remains of her dignity.
"Oh, do shut up, Lexa, I know you're all soft and sappy inside."
Clarke watches the effect of her words play on the hockey center's facial features, how she's pulled out this murderous glare of hers, the one that sends enemy players squirming back to the bench, tail between their legs.
"I'll give you the chance to take it back", Lexa simply offers, but Clarke isn't fooled by her civilized words.
"I won't", she replies.
And Lexa would probably go nuts on anyone who would dare say that to her, because she does know how to beat up people or intimidate them into a puddle of blind submission, Clarke reminds herself. Yet she holds back - there are no other ways to put this. Her green eyes are probably not as unforgiving, not as merciless as she wants them to be.
And that, that is the Clarke Griffin effect.
As always, I love to hear from you guys in the comments section! Next update is coming as soon as possible!