They wake up and side by side in silence for at least an hour, listening to each other breathe and looking up at the ceiling, as if it were splattered with stars. They don't quite know where they stand anymore; they don't quite know what they are – not something, but not nothing. They don't quite know what they want to be. Lexa sighs and Clarke turns to face her. She's beautiful and close, but infinitely far away it hurts. It hurts because she knows she can have her; she can take her and make her hers because she knows that Lexa will let her. But she can't. She can't hurt her – she won't. And Lexa, who feels Clarke's stare, hurts too because she doesn't understand the blonde beauty that lies beside her – she doesn't get this hot-and-cold-ness; this immaturity and childish behavior. She doesn't have the time or energy to deal with this kind of complicated mess, but it hurts because she can't stop wanting her; can't stop caring. Clarke turns back, away from Lexa and looks at the ceiling again.
"Are you awake?" Clarke asks even though she knows the answer already – she just wants to talk, innocently; just to hear her voice. Lexa turns to look at her and nods. Clarke frowns.
"What's wrong?" Lexa asks, copying her frown.
"Nothing," Clarke says. "Do you know what today's plans are?" She doesn't know what else to say, but she needs to keep talking.
"I think whale watching and some sight-seeing," Lexa replies and she's getting annoyed because the conversation is so empty. She doesn't want to talk about this.
"Sounds like it'll be fun," Clarke smiles, but she's not particularly happy. Lexa nods.
"Do you like whales?"
"I guess," Clarke shrugs.
"I went whale watching once in Alaska," Lexa comments. "It was beautiful."
"You've been to Alaska?" Clarke asks, genuinely curious, leaning forward, propping herself up on her elbow.
"I'm from Alaska, actually," Lexa says proudly.
"Isn't it all just igloos and penguins?" Clarke asks and Lexa laughs, making Clarke turn pink. "Are you a penguin, Lexa?"
"Yes, Clarke," she smiles, but then adds, "It's actually quite nice, especially in the summertime. There isn't always snow like you'd think. I'd like to take you." The last part comes out almost involuntarily, making Clarke swallow hard and chuckle nervously.
"I'd like you take me, too," she says. "I'm from Cali, so I never really thought I'd survive in Alaska."
"Well, you're doing quite fine in New York, aren't you?"
"It's all right," Clarke smiles. "Honestly, weather-wise, job-wise and pretty much everything-wise, Cali's better."
"Oh, yeah?" Lexa says sarcastically. "I don't know. New York's okay, but it isn't home, you know?"
"Yeah," Clarke agrees.
"Where's home for you, Clarke?" Lexa asks.
"I told you – Cali."
"That's where you're from. But is it home?" Lexa asks and Clarke has to stop for a moment a think. Her head shakes slightly.
"Where's home?"
"Home is…" Clarke furrows her brow, thinking hard, images and instances of all the places she's been flashing through her head, but none of them feel enough. "You know, I don't know." Suddenly she feels a bit sad. "What about you?"
"Wengen," Lexa says almost immediately. "A small town in Switzerland – it's just absolutely peaceful and breathtaking and calming and exciting at once." There's so much passion in her dark brown eyes that Clarke begins to smile, leaning in closer. "I bet you'd love it. You could paint – uh, do you paint landscapes?" Clarke nods, instead of talking so as to not interrupt. "Well, the scenery is magnificent – Perfect for a painter." Perfect for you – perfect for us.
Clarke feels her insides going warmer as she leans in even closer, eyes glued to Lexa's as they eye the ceiling dreamily as if they showed her the village of Wengen. The blonde rests her head carefully on Lexa's abdomen, looking up at her. The brunette doesn't seem to notice at first, but oh she does. And her nerves tighten and she feels herself fill up with butterflies like a school girl. She brings a hand up to intertwine her fingers in blonde hair, lazily twirling it and gently massaging her scalp as she keeps talking. And Clarke finds her voice so soothing, she feels that if she closes her eyes she can doze back to sleep. But she doesn't want to close her eyes – she doesn't want to miss a thing.
"It does sound perfect," Clarke finally says once Lexa has finished. "I'd love to go one day." They stay quiet for a while, deep in their own thoughts again, trying to figure out what this closeness means. It feels nice – amazingly so – to be so close without it being necessarily sexual. (Though they both know it could become so in an instant, if either one made a move.) It's warm and comforting and safe, but it's dangerous and they both know this too. Clarke thinks back to her conversation with Octavia; Maybe I can be a normal person for once. Maybe I can date; fall in love; be happy. She looks up at Lexa, who looks so strong but seems so fragile at the same time. Maybe I'm already in love. Maybe…
"Clarke," Lexa says and the blonde can tell by her tone of voice that the conversation is about to have a serious, intimate shift. She jolts up, and sits, facing away from Lexa, who frowns.
"Do you mind if I shower first?" Clarke asks, panicking. She isn't ready for this conversation, though she can't keep toying Lexa. She knows the brunette is tired and annoyed and growing tired of her same shit. She knows that if she leaves this unresolved again, it'll resolve itself into nothing. But she's scared – she's terrified because she's never felt this way before; she's never –
"Go ahead," Lexa sighs and Clarke gets up. As the bathroom closes behind her, they both are finally on the same page: they could something, but they are undeniably nothing.