Chapter Text
Lexa skipped a class, the next one too, and then it became apparent that she was avoiding rather than skipping. It wasn’t like work was any busier than usual, and she did a lot of staring out the window of her office these days, replaying every moment that had led her to such a fuckup. And just as she’d decided to turn the page entirely, and cut herself out of Clarke’s life, her goddamn phone rang.
“Woods,” she answered.
“Woods? What is this, Wall Street?”
“What?”
“Anyway, you’re at death’s door, right?”
Lexa looked back at the screen and then frowned. “Anya?”
“You remember my voice, good job. Now tell me you’ve been violently ill and unable to get out of bed.”
“Jesus, what? No, I’m fine.”
“Oh? Because for a minute I thought you had a good reason to miss class, but you actually have no reason at all.”
“Listen, I-”
“No, you listen. This isn’t your college requirement class. You don’t want to take an art class, don’t take it. But don’t sign up and bail and then sign up and bail again. We’re all in the same group here, sharing a space for a few hours a week. Nobody likes seeing an empty seat that could be occupied by someone else. You either commit or you pull out, Woods.”
Lexa hadn’t forgotten about her promise to Anya, though she certainly couldn’t keep it anymore. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll let the center know.”
Anya was quiet for a few seconds. “Come to class tomorrow evening.”
“If this is about my last painting, you can dump it.”
“Just come. Look, I know I can be harsh, but I think you’re making a mistake.”
The mistake had been going to the classes in the first place. Giving into Finn’s capricious demand when Lexa had already known Clarke was faithful had been nothing but a cash grab. And in retrospect, the thought of getting closer to an attractive woman hadn’t exactly dissuaded her.
“We both know a toddler could vomit better art than what I do.”
“It’s not about your work. I want to show you something.”
Lexa looked up at her office ceiling and sighed. “Fine.”
——
She decided to catch Anya right after class instead and so remained in her car as people walked out of the building. When she recognized the faces of Anya’s students, including Echo, Maya, and Wells, she waited a while longer for the one person she needed to stay away from. Even if it had been a week since Lexa had told Clarke the truth, she couldn't imagine Clarke would welcome seeing her again. Lexa had decided to quit for that very reason, knowing this place, and the evening classes, were one of the few things that gave Clarke so much happiness. She had tainted everything enough as it was.
After ten minutes, she figured Clarke had left earlier or perhaps not come at all. Lexa entered the quiet building and shook off the evening chill. She looked around the hallway and took in the smell, feeling nostalgic about it. She was a pitiful artist, but she would miss this place anyway. The last three months without it had been a heavy reminder her everyday life was rather bleak. She’d have to take up another hobby - maybe find a squash partner.
Footsteps came down the main staircase and then stopped. Lexa looked up, freezing when she saw Clarke. She had her briefcase in one hand and her smock in the other.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Clarke said before hurrying down the stairs and then past her, toward the exit.
“I’m sorry, I thought-”
“What?” Clarke turned around. “Why the hell are you here, Lexa? You want another creep shot of me for your collection?”
The venom in Clarke’s voice hit Lexa hard. “I know it doesn’t change anything, but I deleted your file. Finn never asked for any-“ When Clarke’s nostrils flared, Lexa figured it was probably best not to mention his name again. “There’s no footage you have to be concerned about.”
“Oh that’s fucking rich.” Clarke walked toward her. “My concern is that some overpaid peeper put her hands all over my safe space. My concern is that I’ve been walking down the street looking over my shoulder because my ex is a rich idiot who might have a drone following me for kicks! I don’t know who to trust and I feel crazy for even feeling that way. That can’t be taken back, can it?”
Lexa couldn’t deny that. Clarke’s privacy had been breached and she had every reason to be upset about it. Lexa had been trailed by a dissatisfied ex-client once. At first it had amused her how lazy the investigator was, his next steps so predictable that Lexa had considered giving him pointers. But then she found herself wondering where he was; if he was around while she bought her lunch at the grocery store or if he was somewhere on a bench while she walked through the park. It had become irksome to know she was being photographed, scrutinized, and the irony had not been lost on her.
“You realize this is what you do, right?” Clarke asked her, still fuming. “When people inevitably learn they’ve been followed, do you think it’s so easy to just shrug it off? Or do you just not care?”
“I do care, Clarke. It wasn’t supposed to go this far.”
Clarke shook her head, refusing to believe it. “You could’ve stayed away. You must’ve known I wasn’t cheating before you even joined the class.”
“I did, but Finn was so sure something was off-”
“So you agreed to his stupid idea to line your pockets,” Clarke lambasted her. “You had every opportunity to tell me before it went too far, but you didn’t. Any decent person would tell a girl if her boyfriend was insane enough to have her tailed, but no, all you did was feed me cute bullshit to befriend me with.”
Lexa swallowed thickly.
“The worst part is I'm not surprised Finn would do something like this. Paying someone to do the dirty work of talking to me is right up his alley. But you really did commit to the part, didn’t you, Lexa? Oh it must’ve been unbearable to listen to my sob stories. Poor privileged girl with her stupid dreams. God, who even- who fucking does that! Follow someone, pretend to care-”
“It wasn’t pretend,” Lexa swore. “At first I approached it like any other job, it’s true, but then I actually got to know you.”
Clarke’s glare was ferocious, as if the words had angered her further. “At least you were right on one point: Being vulnerable just invites people to stab you in the back. I’d pay you for the lesson but my ex already did. We’re done here.”
Lexa watched Clarke walk away with a sinking feeling of shame in her chest. She had made the most open-hearted woman she knew doubt her own beliefs. That was the most painful consequence of her lie.
——
The lights were already dimmed when Lexa walked in. Anya was at the back of the room, near the smocks, where she was putting on her jacket.
“You like to make an entrance, huh?” Anya asked her.
“Look, Anya, I’m really sorry, but I have to qui-”
“Yeah, yeah.” Anya stopped in front of Clarke’s easel. “Come here.”
Lexa walked over, confused for a second until Anya nodded toward Clarke’s canvas. A punch in the gut would have surprised her less. There was no thriving nature in this painting, nothing but a wasteland with the skyline of a city going to ruins. The sky was not full of clouds but smoke. The greens were turning to brown, saplings suffocated by grime and dirt. Sand covered rusty cars and a scraggly bird had made its nest on the bones of an animal. Lexa could almost feel the scorching heat from the sun in the polluted sky, its hue a bloody orange. She had never known colors could devastate someone so much. That she would miss vivid greens and gentle yellows. These colors were dark and eerie; even the brushstrokes seemed angry.
“Our resident sunflower is going through a little phase,” Anya said.
Lexa was at a loss for words. “This is…”
“Oh don’t think too highly of yourself,” Anya warned her. “Clarke mentioned an apocalyptic theme to me before she even met you.”
Lexa bristled at the implication. “It’s just different from her usual.”
“The timing is interesting, I’ll give your bruised ego that.”
“I wasn’t implying it had anything to do with me.”
Anya rolled her eyes. “Please, no one in this room is blind. You had a little thing going on and now you don’t.”
“You’re wrong.”
“If I’m wrong then you’re a great artist.”
Lexa sighed in defeat. “You’ve really missed a lucrative career in pep talks.”
Anya laughed on her way to the little nook where she kept her personal belongings. She grabbed a flyer and gave it to Lexa, who recognized one of Anya’s paintings pictured beneath a neat font.
“What is this?”
“Opening night for my art gallery. A lot of the students will swing by.”
Lexa noticed the date for the upcoming weekend. “I don’t think I can make it...”
“That’s not very convincing.”
“Clarke’s made it clear she doesn’t want me anywhere near her, the least I can do is respect that.”
“This has nothing to do with either of you,” Anya said. “I need warm bodies staring at my paintings like they’re God's gift to mankind. Just wear something sharp, loudly ask what the prices are, compliment my wife on the hors d'oeuvres, and you’ll be in and out in twenty minutes.”
“I find it hard to believe I’d make a difference, seeing as your art sells like hot cakes. I don’t even understand why you teach.”
Anya scoffed as if Lexa had said the most inane thing. “Just be there.”
——
After some fruitless debate with herself the rest of the week, Lexa arrived late at the opening. She’d figured the more people already there, the less chances there were Clarke would see her. She had replayed their last conversation several times since, leaving her stomach in knots. It was a brutal feeling that Lexa hadn’t felt since her early twenties, where she had been more susceptible to heartbreak.
Time and a career where she was exposed to humanity’s sordid affairs had made her jaded, so much so that meaningful connections had never been much of a possibility. Her business was competitive and there was always tomorrow to meet someone. But it’d been years since she’d started thinking that way, and still she lived alone. College friends were in different corners of the world - Raven was in Tokyo now, working in robotics, and Costia was in London, working in marketing - and her remaining family was busy with toddlers and their own jobs.
As such, socializing was far from Lexa’s mind when she entered the crowded space. There was a mix of people, some dressed in their best cocktail dresses and blazers while others sported a simple shirt and jeans. There was music on but it was no louder than the chatter around her. Lexa grabbed a flute of champagne as soon as it was offered to her, and downed half of it before she even stopped at a painting.
It was titled Gaia, Sweetest and showed a dark-skinned woman with short, platinum blonde hair sleeping on a couch by a large window, her face bathed in sunlight. There were large potted plants in a corner and a full bookshelf in the other; the kind of ordinary setting Lexa felt immediately drawn to. The colors were warm and the sun streaks so realistic that she fought the urge to reach out and touch them. Anya would have her head for it, no doubt.
“It’s exquisite, isn’t it?”
Lexa found Lincoln standing next to her. She had never chatted with him before aside from brief greetings.
“It’s peaceful. I could fall into it.”
“That’s my favorite kind of art,” Lincoln agreed. “When you just want to live in it.”
“Is that her wife?” Lexa asked.
Lincoln nodded and then turned around, trying to find her in the crowd. She stood out immediately. Gaia was by one of the larger pieces and deep in conversation, her hands animated as she explained something to a small group of people.
“I was told to thank her for the food.”
Lincoln shrugged. “I’m sure she’s gotten many compliments already, seeing as she’s a professional chef.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that.”
Lexa finally spotted Anya making her way toward her wife. There was no mistaking the spotlight was on them tonight. Anya’s deep green dress complimented the lapels of Gaia’s blazer, and together they glowed. It was quite something to see the woman who scowled so much melt the moment Gaia took her hand.
“I think this is the first time I’ve seen Anya smile,” Lexa pointed out.
Lincoln chuckled as they turned toward the painting again. “Anya can seem intimidating, but she has a big heart. She’s nudged me toward the right path more times than I can count.”
Lexa could sense that there was more to the story than that, though Lincoln’s gratitude was clear as day. She wished she had spoken to him before.
“She’s a great teacher.”
“She is.” Lincoln looked over Lexa’s shoulder and saw someone that immediately made him smile. “It was nice talking to you, Lexa. I hope you have a good evening.”
“You too.”
Lincoln made his way around a few people until he reached a young woman and subtly squeezed her waist. She turned to him and grinned, wrapping her arm around his waist. Feeling that she was prying - a tiring force of habit - Lexa looked back at the painting and finished her champagne.
She moved around the room with as much finesse as she could, taking in the beauty of Anya’s collection. Gaia was featured quite a bit, and it was those paintings that Lexa liked best. There was something different about them, a particular softness in the colors used. There were larger pieces too, one depicting the busiest intersection of the Ashtree District. It was crowded, with pedestrians rushing across the street and a cluster of people outside the movie theater and ice cream shop. It was a hot, summer day, not unlike the ones they were sure to have in a week. Lexa thought about the street outside her office and felt the same kind of affection Anya so clearly had for this one. If she had an ounce of her talent, painting it would be a fascinating exercise. She wondered if she could do it from memory.
After she had seen everything, Lexa considered leaving. She had spoken with one of the new students, Luna, and Echo, who was there with her boyfriend, and then found herself accepting a second glass of champagne. She couldn’t quite focus after that, anxious she would run into Clarke, or maybe disappointed she hadn’t.
It was after she had shoved two cheese canapés in her mouth that Anya found her.
“Do you know how much time those took to make? You could at least savor them,” Anya said facetiously.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Congratulations on the opening, Anya.”
“If I’m being honest, I didn’t think you’d show.”
“The free food was compelling.”
“I can’t blame you, I owe my success to Gaia’s food.” Anya grabbed a glass of champagne from the passing waiter. “Come on, let’s talk somewhere quiet.”
Before Lexa could think to protest, Anya was already walking toward the back of the gallery.
——
The music and chatter became muffled after Anya closed the door behind them. Lexa looked around the small room, finding a table with more platters of food and bottles of champagne. A small window opened toward the building’s courtyard, a peaceful area with plants and a few chairs.
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s a privilege to be able to do this stuff,” Anya started, “but my God can these people talk your ear off.”
“Yeah, it must be difficult getting compliments left and right.”
Anya drank her champagne with a smirk. “Shut up.”
Lexa helped herself to another glass as well. She’d definitely have to leave her car here overnight, but at least her nerves had vanished.
“So what is this? You need someone to bring you back to Earth? I can give it a go.”
“Oh I bet you’re dying to.” Anya laughed as she leaned against the wall. “Nah, I wanted to talk about Clarke.”
Lexa’s smile fell. “What about her?”
“Whatever you did, it’s forced her to tap into something new. Something strong. I want to see it through.”
Lexa cleared her throat, feeling like the air had gotten thicker. “I’m sure you will.”
“Not if you leave the class.” When Lexa started protesting, Anya shook her head. “You know it makes sense. You’ve seen it.”
“It doesn't matter. She doesn't want anything to do with me.”
"One hiccup and you give up? I'd hate to be your boss."
Lexa scowled at her, which made Anya smile. “She's angry, that's clear- but I like it. I’d never seen her so much as huff before. It was like watching sunshine incarnate, but now we finally have some clouds rolling in. It’s given her art a different quality. Obviously her other stuff is compelling, but this is the first time she’s gone outside of her comfort zone.”
“Because she’s upset.”
“She’s inspired. Whatever you did, it kindled a fire.” Anya nodded toward the door. “There’s talent in spades out there, but emotion as strong as that bleeding on canvas - that’s a rare thing. Some artists spend their whole lives trying to convey feelings like that. It needs work, but it also needs fuel. That’s where you come in.”
“You’re asking me to antagonize her?”
“I’m asking you to stay in her line of sight.”
“She doesn’t need me there to be creative,” Lexa said. “And I can’t screw up her life any more.”
“Then don’t. You’ll sit where you did last time, next to me. Don’t give her those puppy eyes and don’t initiate anything. You don’t have to do a damn thing but paint. Let’s find out where it takes her.”
“A sharpened paintbrush stabbed into my eyeball?”
Anya took another sip of her champagne. “Now that would make a good painting. Gore, but original.”
Lexa’s hesitation seemed to soften Anya.
“Look, when you teach as many people as I have, you start seeing patterns. Clarke may be angry now, but strong feelings like that get worked out, especially if you channel them as well as she does, consciously or not. When you teach you also notice who drags their feet to class and who waltzes in. You only dragged yours the very first class. I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t think you enjoyed it, deep down.”
“Anya…”
“Art doesn’t have to be the Mona Lisa. If you feel good doing it, if it makes you feel like the rest of the world goes quiet for a bit, don't walk away from it. And trust me, you don't want to walk away from her either. You can stay and hope to fix things down the line, or bail and she'll be angry anyway. So which one is it going to be?"
——
After meeting Gaia when she interrupted their conversation on behalf of a potential buyer, Lexa left the gallery. She’d complimented the food and the art, a perfectly pleasant end to a nerve-racking evening.
Lexa had already breathed a sigh of relief when she stepped outside, but she stopped short when she noticed Clarke standing by the curb, staring at her phone. She was in a dark blue dress with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders to keep the evening cold at bay, which Lexa could already feel on her own neck.
It was odd to feel so calm after hours of anticipating this very moment. The conversation with Anya had changed things. This didn’t have to be the last time she saw Clarke, and suddenly the weight on her chest had lifted. Perhaps time was on her side for once.
“Are you okay?” Lexa couldn’t help but ask when Clarke rubbed her hands over her bare arms.
Clarke tensed and quickly looked away from her. “I’m fine. Just waiting for my ride.”
Lexa sat down on the curb and unlocked her phone.
“What are you doing?” Clarke asked after a moment.
Lexa looked up at her. It was the first time their eyes met tonight. “Also waiting for a ride.”
“Didn’t you drive here?”
“I drank too much.”
Clarke didn’t answer, so Lexa looked back at her phone. The driver seemed to be dropping off someone else first, going around a block fifteen minutes away.
“Is it slow for you too?” she mindlessly asked.
“I don’t want to chit-chat,” Clarke snapped.
Lexa bit her lip. “Alright.”
A few minutes later, Lincoln and his partner came out of the gallery. The woman was striking, wearing leather pants and a halter top that showed off her sleeve tattoos.
“Hey Clarke. Lexa. I’ll see you Tuesday?” Lincoln asked.
Lexa hesitated, but she couldn’t lie to herself. Staying away was the easy route, and she always did have a talent to complicate things. “See you then, Lincoln. Have a good night.”
The couple walked down the street hand in hand, already in their own little bubble.
“You’re coming back?” Clarke asked, and then scoffed in disbelief. “You have some nerve.”
Lexa stood up, but didn’t attempt to approach Clarke. “I won’t bother you.”
“Your presence bothers me,” Clarke said. “There are other classes.”
“This one works best with my schedule.”
“Right, your schedule of following innocent people around.”
“I can assure you many of them aren’t.”
Incensed, Clarke huffed again. “Well great, congratulations on being an upstanding citizen. Where would the world be without you?”
“I’m not here to make excuses for myself or defend my job. I made a mistake letting it go as far as it did, but when I came back I intended to correct it. I still want to.”
“You just don’t get it.”
“Clarke...”
Clarke faced her fully, and Lexa noticed she was teary-eyed. “Do you know how humiliating this is for me? To realize that everything I told you, you told him? That you made me trust you, like you, for his benefit?”
The admission made Lexa’s heart plummet. Clarke stepped back, arms crossed like she was getting colder, or perhaps as a way of protecting herself. Lexa thought about their kiss and the emotion behind it, from Clarke’s passion to her candor. She’d been honest from the start, only to be deceived. In that moment between their kiss and Lexa’s admission, everything had already shifted. Selfishly, Lexa regretted that she hadn’t kissed her longer. That the urge to be truthful had ripped her from Clarke’s arms. And yet it didn’t seem like any length of time would’ve been enough.
“I never meant to hurt you.”
Clarke wiped her eyes and then looked toward a car slowly pulling up. “Stay in the class, I don’t care. But stay away from me.”
——
There was of course no scenario where Lexa didn’t do just that, but Anya’s classes had no more than twelve students in a fairly small room. Staying away from Clarke was physically possible, but the energy required to stop herself from glancing her way had her mentally exhausted. Anya had kept her promise by seating her at the end of their semicircle, but it wasn’t like she could just forget Clarke was there. There was often a flash of blonde hair in her peripheral vision, and the distinct sensation that Clarke was looking her way.
When Lexa ever dared a peek, Clarke’s expression was one of frustration. Her jaw was clenched and her hand movements were quick, like she was painting angry streaks across her canvas over and over again. Of course what she was doing had to be far more complex, but it was the image Lexa couldn’t shake. In the two classes following the party, she didn’t see whatever Clarke painted and she didn’t ask Anya about it either.
For her part, Anya was quite pleased with the turn of events.
“Chin up,” she once told Lexa while she stood behind her. “It’s not every day you get to be someone’s muse.”
The class was halfway through, and Lexa had decided to paint the street her office was on. She’d initially thought to do it from the vantage point of her window, but scrapped the idea once Anya had asked her if she had any notions on perspective. The answer was no (but she could draw a neat cube when bored). She had been inspired by Anya’s masterpiece, though was less interested in the details of it all. She was focused on a particular section with three rivaling street vendors and a newsstand that drew very little business in comparison to its foodie neighbors.
“Is that going to be the pretzel stand?” Anya asked as she pointed at the vague outline of a cart.
“Yes,” Lexa replied hesitantly.
“Why are you nervous? It’s good work so far.”
“It’s a splotch of grey.”
“Several greys that make up your sidewalk. I’ll get worried when it starts looking like a beached whale.”
“Your faith in me is miraculous.”
Anya laughed before moving on.
——
On Thursday night, Echo mentioned the group was going to the bar after class. The weather was lovely these days, and it had been a while since their last outing. But Lexa stayed behind as they walked out of the center, intending on spending her own evening with the leftovers from the previous night’s takeout food.
She’d had a late night at the office courtesy of a new case. John Murphy, a widow, was attempting to find his late wife’s brother to pass on letters she had written to him, but the man lived a transient lifestyle and his last known address was now a parking lot near a casino. Lexa had had to contact her old mentor in Idaho, Gustus, who himself was going to hire someone to ask around a few communities of nomads. These days it seemed like all Lexa did was jump through hoops. The days were long and the nights were restless, yet these were the cases that kept the wind in her sails. Finding this man wouldn’t change the world, but it would allow her client to fulfill a promise made to his wife.
Months ago, Lexa would have walked down the street with her new classmates. She would have looked forward to listening to them complain or boast about their jobs, and she would’ve smiled when Clarke ordered her Cosmo. Clarke thought it made her a cliché, though Lexa had never understood the line of thought. And as a disillusioned PI raised in a fractured family, she knew a thing or two about clichés. She also knew that Clarke cherished these bar-nights with the group, and as such politely declined Maya’s invitation to join them.
“Oh, are you sure?” Maya asked. “They have a new IPA we’re going to try.”
Lexa glanced at Clarke walking with Wells and then shook her head. “Maybe next time.”
The group made its way down the street, but just as Lexa got to her car, she noticed that Clarke was looking back at her. This time Clarke didn’t glare or pretend she hadn’t looked her way. If anything, she seemed surprised. It lasted just a few seconds, but it was enough for Lexa to feel a flutter of hope in her chest.
——
The weekend dragged on, especially as Lexa trailed an old man that his daughter - her client - suspected of cheating on her mother. There was nothing more grating than manufactured family drama. The old man spent his nights playing poker with his friends just as he told his wife he did, and the flowers he bought her were indeed out of love, not guilt. Sometimes Lexa wondered why she did what she did, but then she would work on a case like Murphy’s and she would remember there was more to the job than sniffing out betrayal and deception.
She arrived earlier than usual at the Tuesday class, grateful for the break. She was surprised to see Anya and Clarke already at the latter’s easel, discussing something. Anya looked up and smiled like the Cheshire cat.
“Lexa, good, could you come over here?”
Lexa froze, and noticed that Clarke did too, her eyes widening a split second before she regained a steely composure.
“We need a fresh perspective,” Anya explained.
It was a lie if Lexa had ever heard one. Anya was playing a dangerous game and Lexa was powerless to stop it. She walked toward them and looked at the canvas. It was the wasteland she had previously seen, only details had been added and some colors seemed different. There was another canvas propped up against the easel on the floor, this one still in progress. Lexa only noticed the outline of a dilapidated skyscraper, with thick vines wrapped around it and other flora slinking out of the broken windows. It was similar to her previous style, only the colors were much more somber.
“What do you think of the background?” Anya asked her, referring to the wasteland.
Lexa cleared her throat. “It’s incredible. The heat haze makes it seem like it’s moving. The way the skyline melts into the sand almost- and the details in the smoke…”
“Do you think it needs anything more? Does it look empty to you?”
Lexa’s eyes swept over the painting again. “No, I wouldn’t add a thing.”
“See,” Anya told Clarke.
Clarke’s cheeks had gone red. “I don’t know... There’s something off with the sky.”
“Stop tormenting yourself,” Anya said. “The piece is done. It’s a marvel. Be proud of it - or at least keep it out of your sight for now. We can revisit it later if you still think the same.”
“I-” Clarke interrupted herself as Anya reached for her phone.
“Sorry, I have to take this call.”
Lexa frowned. Anya’s phone hadn’t even vibrated. They watched her disappear outside the classroom and then stood awkwardly. Clarke finally sat on her stool.
“It really is impressive,” Lexa couldn't help but say. “Nature and city, but… differently this time.”
Clarke was wringing her hands on her lap. “Thank you.”
Taking the ensuing silence as her cue, Lexa started walking away, but Clarke stopped her. “Do you even have a godson?”
Lexa turned around, feeling her heart stomp away in her chest. “Do I have…”
“You said that’s why you signed up,” Clarke elaborated. “Obviously that wasn't true, so did you make him up?”
“No, Aden is very real. He couldn’t draw a stick figure to save his life, though.”
Clarke looked away in disappointment. “Right.”
Lexa nodded in acknowledgment, the first of her lies coming back to bite her. “He does like gaming. We play together online and he kicks my ass at Mario Kart.” Aden had a winner’s song whenever he crossed the finish line first and it always made Lexa laugh. “He’s been trying to introduce me to multiplayer games, but there’s only so many times I can tolerate thirteen-year-olds calling me a hag before asking for nudes.”
Clarke had a faint smile and just as Lexa felt her hope blooming further, it was crushed.
“I wish I could believe you,” she murmured before putting aside her wasteland painting. It was sadness rather than anger that colored her tone now, and maybe that was worse.
——
Soon came a day that gave Lexa a needed thrill. She hadn’t liked that day very much before then, having woken up to a migraine and an overall sluggish feeling. She’d dragged herself to the office and filled a pot of coffee, then had made the call to close the old man’s case. His daughter hadn’t been convinced his mistress was merely poker, but Lexa had learned a valuable lesson with Finn. Some clients would never believe a reality that didn’t align with theirs, and Lexa was done entertaining them. The job was done and it was time to move on to the next.
She had been going through emails when Gustus called her with the good news: His guy had found a lead.
“Did he show her the picture?” Lexa asked, referencing the picture of Murphy’s wife with her brother.
“He did,” Gustus replied. His accented voice had the same comforting quality that had accompanied Lexa at the beginning of her career. “The woman recognized him immediately. He worked near the community for a few months, then sold his RV after he met someone - a woman named Priya. They live together in a house in Twin Falls now. That’s all she knew.”
“It’s more than enough.”
“He might not have gone through a retailer to sell the vehicle.”
“Then I’ll search for all the Priyas who own property in Twin Falls.”
Gus laughed, a deep rumble that made Lexa smile. “I’ve trained you well.”
“I’ve missed you,” Lexa admitted.
“Ah, don’t get soft on me. I’ll stop by soon and we will see how quickly I irritate you.”
“Within minutes I’m sure.”
“Maybe I’ll ask if you've found a Priya of your own to settle down with.”
Lexa groaned. “Don’t say another word.”
“The days are long, Lexa-”
“-and the nights are cold. Yes, yes, I remember.” It was one of the first things he'd told her when she’d started out as a PI. It was lonely, and time moved quickly.
“Well, it sounds like you know what you’re doing.”
Lexa closed her eyes and thought about telling him everything; yearning to know how he would fix it all - because Gustus was the very best at that. But only she could fix this particular mistake.
“Thank you for your help, Gus.”
——
Lexa walked into class on Thursday to quite the celebration. Things had been quiet on Tuesday, with Clarke and her in an odd place. Clarke’s movements seemed to have slowed down when she painted, and she was back to her usual smiles when chatting with Wells or Anya. If their eyes ever met across the room, they didn’t always look away, at least not immediately. Lexa couldn’t guess what it all meant, but she did wonder if her role of muse was reaching its end.
A small group was gathered around Wells when she walked in.
“Wells sold his first painting!” Maya exclaimed.
“It’s just a small landscape,” he clarified.
Anya tutted. “There’s nothing small in the art world.”
Lexa felt genuinely happy for him, thinking it couldn't have happened to a kinder person. She liked his style as well, watercolor animals and portraits that celebrated the diverse fauna of the world and even imagined it on other planets. Wells was an architect but his real passion was paint, which was why Clarke and him had become such fast friends. They were both pursuing a dream after years of unfulfilling careers. Wells’ awakening had been becoming a father, which he’d mentioned had given him the drive to go for it. How could he encourage his daughter to pursue her dreams if he himself hadn’t even tried?
“We’re celebrating at the bar tonight,” Echo told her after the group started getting ready for class.
Lexa nodded but didn’t commit to joining them. She walked toward the smock rack and saw that Clarke was buttoning one up. Lexa figured she’d ditched her old shirt.
“Hey,” she announced herself, hoping not to startle her.
Clarke looked up. “Hey.”
That wasn’t too bad a sign. Lexa grabbed her usual smock. “Great news about Wells.”
“It is,” Clarke replied, and then looked toward the group. “Are you going to the bar?”
Surprised, Lexa shook her head. “Probably not.”
Clarke gathered her hair into a bun and then sighed. “Look, you don’t need to avoid it for my sake. If you do actually care about the people here, you should go.”
“I didn’t want to make you feel like I was encroaching.”
“Well, I’m not a cat. It’s not my bar and my friends.” Clarke softened a little. “You seemed to enjoy bar nights before, unless that was another act.”
“It wasn’t,” Lexa replied, and then took a small breath. “My first lie was the reason I took the class and the second was my profession, but the rest of it was true. Every part.”
Clarke’s eyes flashed to hers, as if remembering the very parts that Lexa was alluding to, all the moments they had shared that had led to their kiss, from class chats to evening strolls and confessions at the bar.
“You should come then,” she said before offering the smallest of smiles, barely a lift at the corner of her mouth, but there nonetheless.
Lexa felt her whole body wake up.
——
When even Anya and Lincoln followed the group to the bar that night, Lexa knew that she couldn’t miss it. They both stayed for one beer only, congratulating Wells once more before sheepishly - Lincoln more so than Anya - announcing they had to get back to their partners. Echo teased them, well on her way to a second drink herself, while Wells was too high on cloud nine to mind at all. He would have to leave soon too, but for now he enjoyed the spotlight.
They ordered another round of beers, a rarity for their Thursday nights. Lexa had missed the ambiance of it all - the music in the background, Echo’s wild trial tales, and Maya’s carefree laugh. She had missed Clarke too of course; God, in too many ways to count.
“Lexa, you work with data, right?” Maya asked a while later.
It was as casual a question as any, but it felt like a turning point. For weeks Lexa had listened to these people, her classmates, and rarely interjected. She had been pleasant of course, and shared the basic details of the life she had made up for herself at the time, but she’d never shared like they did. Now, she couldn’t remember why.
“Yes and no. I’m a private investigator.”
The group seemed both surprised and impressed, pouncing on the reveal with interested ohhs. Lexa fielded questions about what the job really entailed - paperwork, for the most part - and how she had gotten into it; if she was licensed and if she had any weird stories. She told them about the parents who hired her to do background checks on their children’s partners and the greedy families who wanted her to befriend their elders to get inheritance details. Lexa had never had a shortage of good stories to tell.
“So are you undercover right now?” Wells joked.
Lexa glanced at Clarke, who had been very quiet since the beginning. “I- no,” she smiled weakly. “The classes help me unwind.”
“I can only imagine,” Maya said between sips of beer. “I’m guessing it’s not like the movies, but it must still be more exciting than an office job!”
“It’s also a lot of sitting and waiting, honestly. Nice to be my own boss though.”
“Do you have employees?”
“No, but I might need to get an assistant at some point. There’s only so many post-its you can rely on before your entire system collapses.”
Maya laughed, and then did something that made it incredibly obvious the conversation had shifted. She ran a hand through her hair and propped her chin on her palm, lowering her voice to add: “You must get lonely then.”
It didn’t help that Wells, Echo and Luna had shifted to another conversation, making the exchange between Maya and her feel much more intimate than when it had started out. Lexa was keenly aware Clarke had heard it too.
“It’s nothing I’m not used to,” she replied as diplomatically as she could.
“Aw but you shouldn’t be.”
“Excuse me,” Clarke said before leaving the table and walking toward the back of the bar, where the restroom was.
Lexa pinched the bridge of her nose, begging for the floor to open up and swallow her whole. She couldn’t fault Maya for the horrible timing, but it was frustrating to see the promising evening take such a turn. She smiled at Maya and tried to focus on the group’s conversation instead, but Clarke’s empty seat was too much of a distraction.
Feeling emboldened by her second beer, Lexa decided to stop waiting around. She excused herself as well and headed toward the restroom, where she knocked on the door.
“Clarke? Are you okay?”
The door abruptly opened, but it was another woman that came out. Lexa frowned and looked around, then noticed the door to the back alley. She pushed it open and found Clarke pacing by piles of crates. The alley was dark and narrow, lit only by the moonlight, but Lexa had seen worse on the job.
“I thought you might want some privacy out there,” Clarke said without even looking at her.
“That’s not fair. I didn’t know she’d say that.”
Clarke didn’t add anything, but when she turned around her expression was full of hurt. “I don't fucking get it. Your job is done but you're still here. You don't even like painting."
“If you want to talk, we can talk.”
“Fine, let's talk!” Clarke snapped, as if the dam had finally burst. “I want to know how it was so easy for you.”
“Easy?” Lexa repeated, frowning.
Clarke strode toward her until Lexa was backed against the wall. “Easy to look me in the eye and not say anything. You’re not an idiot, Lexa, you knew I was going to kiss you that night. You knew and you still let me take your hand; still let me take you to my apartment. Why?”
Lexa kept her palms against the cold brick, feeling her heart pound. One move and her knees would buckle, surely. “I- I…”
“Are you that fucking cruel that you’d sleep with me to prove Finn right? That I’d been falling for you while I was still with him?”
Lexa’s eyes widened. “No! Of course not.”
“Then why, Lexa?! Why didn’t you stop me?”
“Because I wanted to be with you!” Lexa exclaimed. “Because you were all I could think about for three months straight. Every fucking day. And then suddenly you weren’t with Finn anymore, but I still couldn’t believe that someone like you would want someone like me. You don’t know what it’s like to be kissed by you, Clarke- it’s not something you can fight so easily. And fuck, sometimes I wish I hadn’t! I wish I were exactly who you think I am; selfish, and cruel, and greedy, because then I would’ve kissed you longer, and I would’ve taken you to bed, and I would’ve made you mine.”
Just as Clarke realized what she had said, Lexa realized it too. But in that moment she was too proud to take the words back. She exhaled sharply, daring Clarke to question her intentions now. Clarke looked between her eyes and her lips, her own breathing faster as she crashed down from the height of her anger. And then Lexa felt her hands grip the lapels of her jacket and pull her close; felt the hungry press of her mouth against hers.
Her hands were on Clarke’s waist in an instant, pushing her backward until she had lifted Clarke on a stack of crates out of a primal desire to be between her legs. She took what she’d craved for so long, kissing her long and hard, and when Clarke opened her mouth and their tongues met, desire surged through her like nothing she’d ever felt. She pushed the fabric of Clarke’s dress up her thighs, swallowing Clarke’s moan when she caressed her bare skin.
Clarke broke away, her hand firm against the nape of Lexa’s neck as Lexa kissed down her jaw and then her throat. Her eyes closed and she moaned her name, the sound so sweet to Lexa’s ears that her fingers dug into Clarke’s flesh. They fell into another kiss, this one slower but no less full of intent.
“Just fuck me,” Clarke breathed against her mouth, her other hand pawing at her shirt to pull it out of her pants. “I can’t stand it anymore. Can’t get you out of my head. And when I look at you and try to stay angry, it just makes me want you more. How twisted is that?”
Lexa felt dizzy and hot with need, everything in her screaming to give Clarke what she wanted. But the last part of her sentence made her stomach drop. She tensed and pulled away, wide-eyed and shattered.
“Stay angry ,” she repeated. “You’re still angry with me.”
The words had the effect of an ice-cold shower. It seemed like ages before Clarke wiped her thumb over her mouth and asked: “Does it matter?”
“Yes,” Lexa whispered. “Of course it does.”
Clarke got off the crate, knowing the moment had passed. “You said you wanted me.”
“I do.”
“And even though I’ve tried to fight it, I obviously want you too.” Clarke gently lifted Lexa’s chin. “So what’s the problem?”
Lexa could hardly believe what she was hearing. “You said there was nothing like baring yourself to someone else. That closeness came from openness. And now you want to fuck without feeling?”
Clarke moved away. “My last relationship turned my boyfriend into an obsessive idiot. Then the woman I liked lied to my face. Clearly I’ve been doing something wrong.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not? Isn’t that how you do it? Keep your feelings tucked away so you don’t get hurt? I thought we’d be on the same page.”
It felt so wrong to hear these words coming from Clarke. Lexa couldn’t even understand how they’d gotten to this point. It seemed like kissing Clarke always preceded a violent crash to Earth. And yet she couldn’t deny it outright. She’d kept a tight lid on her feelings for a long time. She didn’t share anything that wasn’t asked, and even then she tried to find ways to turn the question around. But Clarke’s perspective had changed her. Suddenly, sharing hadn’t seemed so daunting.
But how could she show Clarke how wrong she’d been when Clarke had closed herself off to conversation?
"What if I don't want to be that person anymore?" Lexa asked, voice breaking.
Clarke's thumb brushed against her cheek before she pulled away. "Well, then... I think that's something you have to decide for yourself."
——
Lexa was out of her element the next class and Thursday's too. She had always been, but it was particularly noticeable that week. She could hardly focus at all, lost in thought the entire time. She didn’t attempt to look at Clarke and Anya only came by a few times, asking questions about her next steps in her painting and moving on. Anya was perceptive of course, and Lexa was grateful she didn’t pry.
The days were going by in the blink of an eye, yet Lexa couldn’t remember anything of note happening. She could only think about the damn alley- their kiss, Clarke’s want, Clarke’s words. She didn't understand where they stood, what it meant for them. She knew she was utterly confused, and perhaps Clarke was too. Lexa desperately wanted to show she was ready to put in the work, to open up her life for good, but it was easier said than done. At the same time, it'd been exciting to talk about her job with the group; to share bits and pieces of her life.
She was still deep in thought when the last class of the week wrapped up. Anya found her cleaning off a paintbrush methodically in the sink, stalling so that everyone left before her.
“You look like you need a beer.”
“A pack is more like it," Lexa muttered.
“Let’s stick to one. My treat.”
——
They sat in one of the corners of the bar, upbeat music filtering through the old speakers. Lexa still felt rotten, as if stuck in an odd sort of limbo. Clarke had kissed her, and they’d spoken, and weeks ago it would’ve felt like a dream. But putting feelings aside would've been another lie, and Lexa couldn't do it. What a cruel joke it all was.
“So. You don’t give two shits about art,” Anya stated before she grabbed a handful of peanuts.
Lexa looked up from her beer. “Maybe half a shit.”
Anya snorted before taking a swig of her own beer. “No, you don’t. You only signed up for Clarke, didn’t you? I still don’t know the history there, but watching you torturing yourself today was pitiful. I don’t teach pitiful people, they’re a fucking downer.”
“You’re a real comfort.”
“Honest feedback is why students stick with me. What do you do in life anyway?”
“I’m a PI.”
“Seriously? Like Jessica Jones?”
“Less drunk and more boring.”
“You must deal with bullshit then. Good. Now you’re the one who did the bullshitting and you don’t know how to get out of it, am I wrong?”
“Something like that.”
“What did you do? Go through her underwear or something?”
Lexa nearly choked on her beer. “No! Her ex hired me to find out if she was one foot out of the door. I thought it’d be an easy job, just a couple weeks making conversation to see if she’d confess something.”
Anya snorted. “He couldn’t ask a friend of hers?”
“People like him usually think with their wallets first.”
“Alright, then what?”
“I…”
Anya waited a beat before it became apparent Lexa wouldn’t be able to say the words. “Right. So you fell for the girl on the job. Tale as old as time. Now what are you going to do about it?”
“We don’t want the same things. I screwed up too badly.”
“She said that?”
“It was implied.”
Anya rolled her eyes. “Christ, have you ever had a relationship that lasted longer than a cup of coffee?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Nobody achieved anything by sulking. You want to show her you’re serious? Show her.”
“Well that’s brilliant, if only it were so easy.”
Anya leaned back, stared at her until Lexa shifted uncomfortably, and then gave her a smile that meant trouble. “First step, show up early on Tuesday the 5th. Second step, tell her what you want and leave nothing off the table.”
Lexa frowned. “What do you mean by show up early?”
Anya took out some cash from her pocket and left it on the table. “I have to go. Gaia made paella and I’m starving.”
“Hold on, what’s next Tuesday?” Lexa asked, bewildered.
“Do you want your girlfriend to stay angry?”
“She’s not my-” A horrifying thought struck Lexa. “Wait. No. Anya, there is no way in hell I’m doing that.”
Anya put on her jacket. “Suit yourself. But do me a favor, slap on a smile the next time you come to class. Text me if you change your mind.”
Lexa watched her leave with a clench in her jaw. Fuck.
No.
No she wouldn't do that.
She couldn't.
Could she?
——
She did.
On Tuesday, Lexa stared at the Art Center's building for what felt like an hour before she finally went inside. Anya was surprisingly gentle, showing her the way she'd moved the chairs and easels around, her voice putting her at ease. Lexa remembered what Lincoln had told her at the gallery - how Anya had guided him - and found comfort in that. Anya had never hidden who she was, not even during the first class. She was opinionated and spoke frankly, not one to sugarcoat anything, but she also cared immensely about people's wellbeing.
While other students started walking in, Anya went to close the sheer shades. Lexa noticed Clarke at her easel and approached her.
“I'm surprised you came," Clarke said. "I was so sure you'd skip tonight given the last time we did figure painting."
“I am skipping it,” Lexa replied, her face slightly pale.
Clarke then noticed she was wearing a robe. "Um... okay..."
Lexa took a deep breath. “During that class you said being vulnerable can be the most rewarding feeling. That there’s nothing like it. I didn’t want to believe it because I’ve been chickenshit most of my life. I’m good at exposing other people’s dirty laundry, but I’ve never put my heart on the line. I’ve never tried anything I knew I couldn’t do. Then you changed your mind because of me - because of what I did. You said it wasn’t worth it. Well, I can’t let you believe that. I was wrong, Clarke.”
Anya walked over.
“You ready? Sheers are drawn and we’re getting some nice sunlight through.”
Clarke looked between them with widening eyes. “What are…”
“Talk to you later?” Lexa asked hopefully before walking away with Anya.
Clarke watched them in confusion, Anya unusually soft-spoken as she motioned Lexa toward the small stage. Other students were picking canvases and materials, not too fussed by it. Surely Lexa wasn’t…
Just then, Lexa untied the robe and let it pool at her feet, revealing her stark naked body.
“Oh my god!” Clarke yelped without thinking. The class, including Anya and Lexa, went silent as they looked her way. Her cheeks went red. “I- I swallowed a bug.”
While everyone turned back to what they were doing, Lexa arched a brow at her. Clarke looked away and plopped down on her stool, mortified by her reaction. She hid behind her easel and kept her eyes on her brushes.
——
Lexa didn’t hate this. The nude part she could do without, but she was confident enough in her body not to worry herself sick someone was scrutinizing the mole on her thigh and the scar on her arm. It was even… freeing. Bizarre, to be sure, and not something she’d do again, but nowhere near as nerve-racking as she’d expected. The anticipation had been more stressful than the actual posing. Anya checked in with her regularly, making sure she was still comfortable.
Clarke hardly ever looked her way for too long, staring so hard at her canvas she was surely burning holes into it. Lexa had to admit it was amusing. Deep down, she also hoped Clarke understood why she did it. Months ago, she had called it vanity. Now she saw Clarke's perspective. There were multiple people she knew looking at her stripped down, and it took everything in her not to run away. At the same time, it was because she knew these people that she felt safe enough to stay in place. There was no mockery or judgment in their eyes, which made Lexa's chest swell with appreciation. She loved these people, with their quirks and their passions and the way they celebrated each other's achievements.
She didn't realize how quickly the time went by, and was even surprised when Anya asked the class to start wrapping up. She gave Lexa her robe and thanked her.
"How did that feel?"
"Surreal," Lexa said.
"I'm proud of you. You've come a long way since trying to use a pencil in a painting class."
"You're just being nice because my tits were out."
"Obviously. Now remember step two, and don't fuck it up."
Before Anya left, Lexa stopped her. "Thank you, Anya. You're a great teacher."
Anya grimaced. "Oh don't tell my wife that."
Lexa smiled. She got off the platform and stopped when she saw Clarke looking at her. She came closer hesitantly.
"I'll look at my mouthless man differently now," she joked.
Clarke blushed. "Yep, that'll do it."
Lexa's curiosity had her glancing at Clarke's canvas. She was surprised to see herself dressed in a sort of warrior's outfit instead, with armor and knife sheaths around her thighs. It was her face that was the most detailed, and there were subtle streaks of red in her hair. She looked fierce, as if she belonged in the landscapes Clarke had been painting these past few weeks.
"That's..."
"It's not finished, obviously," Clarke quickly said. "I've been interested in costumes recently, so I guess I was inspired."
"That would be a change from jeans and jackets."
"Yeah."
Lexa bit her lip. "I want to show you who I am, Clarke. I know trusting me again will take time, but I’m still the person you liked hanging out with. I do have a shitty track record with relationships, I do love Indra’s, and I do watch shows that make me yell at the television. My job can be dirty work, but there’s so much more to it than what you think. Please let me show you what I do. Just give me thirty minutes, whenever you can.”
"Well... it'd be hard to say no to someone who just got naked in front of twelve people."
They shared a smile, and then Clarke nodded. "Okay. Show me."
Lexa's eyebrows reached her forehead. "Now?"
"Did you have other plans?"
"No. I-no, I can drive. I just need to get dressed first."
"Yeah, that-uh, good idea." Clarke cleared her throat. "I'll wait for you outside."
——
The drive was quiet most of the way, until Lexa saw her office building in the distance and couldn't take it anymore. Before taking off the robe at the beginning of class she had promised herself she wouldn't hold anything back anymore, and she intended to follow through.
"How has work been?" she asked.
Clarke snorted. "It's work."
"Hm."
Clarke worried her lip and grew more serious. "No, it's been wearing me down." She looked out the window and sighed. "When I started painting it felt like one part of me was clinging to the past and the other was so excited to move forward. After a few months of Anya encouraging me, and after I met you... the past finally started fading, and I couldn’t go back even when you left. I ended it with Finn and took time off work to figure things out. I even started seeing a future where I didn't file someone else’s taxes. But..."
"But?"
"It's just so fucking hard out there. After we- after you told me about Finn, I just started thinking how naive I am. I was with him for five years and I never imagined he'd pull something like that. And I'm not Anya, I don't have an edge or that killer mysterious aura people flock to. What the hell do I have to offer that would be enough to survive on?"
"You're right, you're not Anya." Lexa pulled into her office's parking spot and turned the engine off. She looked at Clarke, reaching out to lift her chin as she had done to her before. "You're you. You make strangers feel like friends. You're open, and kind, but you won't be pushed over. When people talk to you, you make them feel like they're the only person in the room. You wear your heart on your sleeve and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. It's made me want to be better- to do better. You have so much to offer, Clarke. When I look at your paintings I feel something. They're captivating. They make you wonder about the world inside them and the mind behind them. Maybe that doesn't mean much coming from someone who can't tell the difference between acrylics and oil paints, but I know others will think the same. And besides, two Anyas sound terrifying."
Clarke let out a laugh, her eyes closing while she leaned into Lexa's touch. "I missed you," she murmured.
Lexa's heart leapt.
——
Clarke walked around her small office with a great curiosity, taking in the little details of Lexa's life here. She took in the piles of folders and the post-its; the file cabinets pushed tightly against each other and the dying ficus in the corner. At that she looked back at Lexa, disapproving.
Lexa shrugged. "Apparently you can overwater."
Clarke's fingers ran over the bulletin board on the wall, reading a few of the cards there. They were mostly thank you notes, some even handwritten letters. "I thought I'd see some mugshots and red thread."
"I'm a PI, not Dexter."
Clarke chuckled. "Sensitive subject?"
"No... people just have a lot of preconceived notions."
Clarke sat down. "I'll admit my mind went a little wild after you told me."
Lexa walked toward a file cabinet and pulled it open. "I know. That's why I wanted to show you. I want to be honest with you. Sometimes it's exactly what you think. A rich guy will ask me to trail his girlfriend, and my rent will be due, or taxes, or food... and I take the job."
Clarke nodded in understanding, though it was still a sore point.
"But then..." Lexa found the file she wanted and opened it on the desk, showing pictures of an older man and newspaper clippings of his crimes. “Then there's cases like this. A housewife in her late forties came to me one day. Her husband was a cop who beat her every day, but she’d signed a prenup. She didn’t know what to do - stay and take it, or leave and be homeless. I followed him eighteen days and found him selling drugs outside of schools. The DEA took over after that- turns out it was just the tip of the iceberg. He’s in federal prison for twenty years now, and her - she’s free.”
She went to another cabinet and pulled out a thick blue file. “This guy was a wreck. His wife was divorcing him and asking for full custody of the kids. Visits once a month, that’s it. The kids wanted to stay with him, but she was manipulating them into keeping quiet. I became her friend, then recorded her fully admitting to it. She wasn’t the brightest bulb, but cruel and vindictive enough she could’ve gotten away with it otherwise.”
Lexa opened more drawers. “All of these were locating estranged relatives; siblings who’d been kicked out of their homes, deadbeat dads who owed money, addicts who’d cut ties.”
She watched Clarke look over the papers and pictures. “Maybe I could’ve been a lawyer or a social worker, but I’m actually good at this. I know it’s not always clean work, and for every client like this-” she pointed to the files- “there are ten Finns or worse, but I have to believe it’s worth it.”
Clarke took her time to absorb everything. "I think it is, given all those thank you notes." She looked up at Lexa. "I never judged what you do for a living. If anything I find it fascinating. But you looked into my life before I even knew you. You used that to get close to me. That's the part that hurt.”
“I knew the bold strokes, but I didn’t actually know you. I could've sat in the classroom, done nothing, and told Finn everything he needed to hear. I didn't need to get close to you, Clarke. I wanted to. I still do. And if I have to stand naked at the Ashtree intersection to make you believe me, I will."
"Oh God, don't do that."
Lexa was at a loss. "Then what can I do? If it's too late just tell me and I'll get out of your life for good. But if it isn't, tell me what to do. I know we can be something good together. How do I show you it was real?"
Clarke got up and cupped her cheeks, quieting Lexa's desperate plea. "You already have."
Unable to stop herself, Lexa kissed her fully. It felt like a release, no less passionate than their kiss in the alley but incomparable at the same time. There was nothing to hold back anymore; no voice in the back of her head telling her to stop. They kissed until it couldn’t be enough; until Clarke asked her to take her home for good this time and Lexa grabbed her hand and keys so fast that it made her laugh.
——
Their bodies moved together well into the night, mapping every inch of each other, revealing and adoring every part. Clarke made the most arousing sounds, moaning and sighing as Lexa’s fingers reached deep inside her and fucked her long and hard, worshipping her like she was repenting, and in a way she was, wholly and thoroughly.
She lost herself in the moment at one point, so deeply that it took a beat before she realized Clarke had called her name. She found her lips again and asked what she'd said. Clarke slipped her fingers through her hair, her back arching when she pled,
"I want to look at you."
Lexa added a third finger inside her, biting her lip when Clarke moaned. "Oh, Lex- oh like that."
It would've been easy to look away - to press her face against Clarke's neck until Clarke came - but Lexa found herself broken open by her gaze, the infinite gentleness and encouragement in it. She watched as Clarke came, and then as Clarke kissed down her body and finally licked into her.
Pleasure coiled tightly inside her so many times throughout the night that she lost count. She never lost sight of Clarke however, and that was all that mattered.
——
Lexa woke up before dawn to a soft line of kisses pressed against her chest. Clarke had fallen asleep against her, and now seemed to have woken up. Grinning, Lexa ran her fingers through her messy bed hair. Clarke hummed and lifted her head to properly kiss her. It was the kind of lazy, affectionate greeting that Lexa had often imagined.
She looked up at Clarke and licked her lips, then was struck by an idea. She looked around and jolted out of bed, surprising Clarke.
“Lex, what-”
“Stay here,” Lexa said before leaving to grab a notebook and pencil.
“What? Why? Lexaaa…”
Lexa came back with a chair too and sat down on it, still naked. She opened the notebook to a blank page. “You immortalized me, it’s only fair I do you.”
Clarke arched a brow. “I thought you already did.”
Lexa shook her head with a smile. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
Clarke sighed lovingly before lying on her stomach with her elbows propped up. “Is this a good pose?”
Lexa saw that her breasts were on full display now, and so tantalizing she almost threw her notebook out the window. “Yes, but I require complete silence to concentrate. This is a very important endeavor.”
Clarke let out a small giggle. “Of course.”
She watched as Lexa’s eyes drank her in, every line committed to memory and then to paper. Clarke had never seen her so focused, so far off in her own little world. She could hear the sound of the pencil, the long lines and the smaller ones.
Lexa’s gaze was ravenous, and difficult to ignore. The night had felt like a long and lustful dream, only it was all wonderfully real. After a while, Clarke felt a shiver run down her spine.
“I’m getting chilly,” she said.
Lexa looked up with a lazy smile. “I’ve noticed.”
Clarke glanced at her own breasts. “Funny. Are you done?”
“I don’t know. The shading could use some work.”
Clarke got up and plopped down on Lexa’s lap. “Show me."
Lexa gave her the notebook. “Fine, but I warned you about the shading.”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe you!”
Lexa burst out laughing as Clarke started play-hitting her with the notebook. On the page was just a single stick figure with a wide smile and two very round breasts.
“You had me lie there for thirty minutes!”
Lexa wrapped her arms around Clarke’s waist and used the momentum to push them on the bed as the notebook fell to the floor.
“You just can’t put a timer on art,” she said.
Clarke wrapped her legs around Lexa and huffed. “What were you doing this whole time, perv?”
“Just wondering how I could be so lucky.”
“Don’t be cute, I’m trying to be upset.”
“Upset over a masterpiece, really.”
“Lexa, it’s a stick and two circles. It took you three seconds!”
Lexa feigned offense. “It was fifteen minutes for each breast. I’m serious about my art.”
“You’re so annoying.”
Lexa smirked. “Is that why you’re going to kiss me?”
“No.”
After a beat, Clarke kissed her hard.
——
The sun had started rising when Lexa cracked an eye open again. There was just enough light to see Clarke, her face relaxed as she slept soundly, or at least until the alarm went off. Suddenly Lexa could understand how one would want to stop everything and capture such a moment more realistically than she had on her notebook. A snap of her camera could’ve done it, but her fingers itched for a paintbrush instead, even if she knew the result would not do Clarke justice… at all. They would laugh about it, no doubt, and maybe Clarke would still like it. She would tease her about being mouthless and Lexa would pout dramatically, arguing that she would rather kiss the sweet smile on her lips than paint it.
And then she would do just that.