Alphahood (T)
Lexa had a crush.
She wouldn't act on it, since she had two important factors to consider: one, her crush was her best friend, and if she confessed and they ended up in teenage drama, who would eat the second scoop of ice cream she always ordered but never finished? And two, her friend was not an alpha. Most omegas in school said she should only have crushes on alphas, and that was final. Lexa had to focus on college applications anyway. There was no time for romance.
Her beautiful, chubby-cheeked best friend crush would probably wash away as she met new people.
That last summer before college, Lexa kissed Clarke's cheek on the Griffin's rooftop and watched red tinge her friend's freckles. That was enough, Lexa thought. It was better for both of them when they parted ways.
She didn't see Clarke until next summer.
"Who's that?" Lexa asked her brother as they unloaded the van at the lake parking lot. Her father insisted her first weekend home from college should be filled with as many family activities as possible, so the Woods van was overflowing with floaties, food, and fighting between Lexa's younger siblings.
"Who?" Adam, his hair in a bird's nest from Igor's pulling, looked at the lake in the direction Lexa pointed.
"Surf pedaling," Lexa explained, eyes fixed on the broad back under the sunlight.
Adan chuckled. "You must have hit your head in college. That's Clarke."
Clarke. The name echoed in Lexa's head like a pebble disturbing calm waters.
She knew Clarke had been a late bloomer, presenting as an alpha a mere few weeks after Lexa had left for her early summer orientation. She had texted Clarke over the months, seen pictures of her dorm, friends, and... not a lot of pictures of herself.
Because, whoa. Alphahood had done things.
"Everything alright, pumpkin?" Her father asked, Igor around his neck playing with his beard.
Lexa swallowed and nodded. She looked back at the lake and at the tight fit of a bikini that did nothing to hide defined biceps and deltoids. Bright orange shorts sat loosely on thighs that long ago Lexa had laid her head on and confessed about believing in fairy tales. She did not allow her brain to dwell on why Clarke wore shorts and not her usual bikini bottom, because that would be a point of no return. And finally, Lexa also did not overthink about the high golden bun showing an undercut or how soft the baby hairs would be under Lexa's fingers. She did not think of any of that, but when she blinked, her family was on the shore setting up their tent, and a bright, bright smile was emerging from the lake with sparkling eyes, and fuck, Lexa had a problem.
Clarke's skin was hot despite being on the lake, and Lexa felt her feet being pulled off the ground in a bear hug. Since when could Clarke lift her like that?
"Lexa! It's great to see you!"
Lexa must have replied something with her half-functioning brain, because Clarke continued to talk about summer plans, hikes, ice cream, and girlfriends—
Lexa snapped to attention.
"She'll be here for the fourth, and I want you to meet her."
And just like that, wet from a hug on a grainy lake shore, Lexa realized that her high school crush was back.
Lexa met Clarke's girlfriend with a smudged flag on her cheek. She had skyped Anya (the entire family had), and she surrendered to Igor's face painting while being infused by her deployed, patriotic sister. Unprepared and high on sugar and corn dogs, Lexa saw Clarke approach her with a girl whose name she found really hard to remember.
It wasn't the fact that Clarke’s girlfriend was gorgeous that bothered Lexa, or that she seemed genuinely in love with Clarke. It was the similarities. Brunette. Green eyes. Omege, thin, pre-law: the girl checked all the boxes Lexa did, and in a way, that made it harder to dislike her.
While Clarke's dad and Lexa's mom worked on the fireworks—Abby and Gustus were always in charge of the barbecue—Lexa watched Clarke sneak out with her. She didn't overthink it. Lexa was not going to let that ruin her holiday.
As the fireworks painted the sky and Clarke reappeared with a hickey, Lexa thought that, maybe, it could have been her mark on Clarke’s neck instead.
Four states away, their friendship survived on meme exchanges and Snapchat. Lexa got to know Detective, the black cat Clarke had adopted, and Clarke knew all about Lexa's extracurriculars, from lacrosse to debate. When a new semester approached and Lexa noted that a certain brunette had vanished from Clarke's feed, it was a natural decision to accept Clarke's invitation to spend spring break volunteering as teachers to underprivileged children. It would look great on Lexa's resume, and hanging out with a single Clarke for a week was not a bad idea.
The button-up Clarke wore for their first-day orientation meeting was making a miraculous effort to remain buttoned. As the months passed, Clarke seemed to gain muscle, and when she hugged Lexa at the airport, her voice had a lower tone that made Lexa's toes tingle. Obviously unrelated to her crush, Lexa would swear at court.
The volunteer team escaped to a happy hour for their first day, and Clarke's shirt was relieved of its weight when two buttons popped open. Lexa's eyes were trying and failing not to stare, and if the shy but intense looks she exchanged with Clarke between tequila shots were any indication, Clarke had noticed.
This could be it. They were still half a dozen states away, but Lexa could finally act on her crush. Clarke offered to walk Lexa back to her hotel room, and she low-key panicked and hid in the bathroom for 15 minutes, growing the courage to act. She should have had another shot, but well, this would have to do.
Lexa finally emerged from the bathroom to see another volunteer, an omega, with her hands on Clarke's thigh—which were jumping inside those slacks, not that Lexa had stared during half the meeting. The omega ran her hand up and down Clarke's thigh, and Lexa watched the blush from Clarke’s cheeks trail down to the skin revealed by the open buttons. Clarke looked around, and Lexa didn't know what had taken over her body, but she hid behind a pillar and ignored her vibrating phone.
Ten minutes later, Clarke left with the omega.
Aware of her fear and self-sabotage, Lexa left with the first alpha who bought her another shot of tequila.
There were no other chances during that week, and Lexa felt slightly vindicated when she saw Clarke asking the omega not to call her as they boarded the plane back to school.
It didn't matter, though. Lexa had no hopes that it could actually be her this time.
500 candidates, one single spot: that was the competition Lexa went through to get that internship. She used existing and non-existing connections, aced the interviews, and now was responsible for the coffee and meetings annotation of a prestigious law firm. Unpaid, of course, and overworked, as it usually was. But it was one step closer to building the perfect law student resume.
It was in week nine of the ten-week program that she got the call. Her mom called at 11 p.m., which was unusual in itself, but Lexa's heart stopped when she heard the soft sniffing.
"Mom? What's going on?" The highlighter in her hand streaked bright pink on her page as she heard the news.
"No, no. I'm going," Lexa insisted.
"But your internship."
"I'll present my proposal virtually. They’ll understand." She had no idea if they would understand, but Lexa had no other choice. She wanted to do this. Her heart was broken, and all she could think about on her flight home were sad, sad blue eyes.
Lexa barely had time to change when she arrived, and they were almost late by the time the Woods van stopped at the crowded parking lot.
In a dark suit, Clarke was a wall. Broad shoulders were steady and supportive as Abby clung to her daughter like a lifeline, shaking, allowing Clarke’s arm to keep her upright. Abby was devastated, a shadow of the usual strong alpha, which was to be expected from anyone who had just lost a mate.
While the funeral continued under the late July sun, Clarke sweated in her suit and nodded to everyone who stopped to give them their condolences. Her jaw twitched when Lexa hugged her, and her large, warm hands trembled on Lexa's back. Lexa didn't know what to say, so she didn't say anything. I'm sorry sounded pitiful, and Clarke's eyes were tired of pity.
Jake's funeral reception was at the Griffins home, and Abby disappeared in her room less than an hour later with pills her sister from Philly told her would help.
"She hasn't slept since the accident," Clarke explained, and Lexa shook her head.
"I'd be high on Xanax if I were your mom too," Lexa offered, to which Clarke's aunt scoffed and Clarke offered a small, tired smile.
Lexa's parents lingered to help clean up, and Lexa lingered because Clarke also looked like she hadn't slept in days and she wanted to do something about it. Guests left one by one, and Lexa told her parents she would Uber back home. In the quiet kitchen smelling of stale appetizers, Lexa watched Clarke fidget with her watch. It was large and leather strapped, and Lexa's heart sank a little further when she noticed it was Jake's.
"Hey." She touched Clarke's shoulder. It relaxed under the slight pressure of her fingers. "Why don't we go to your room and watch a movie or something?"
Clarke's eyes were red-rimmed from exhaustion, since Lexa hadn't seen her shed a single tear. The alpha nodded and let Lexa guide her to her own bedroom upstairs. In a way, it was like they were ten again. In every other possible way, it wasn’t.
Without a word, Clarke laid on her bed, her back to Lexa. Lexa panicked for a second, unsure if she should leave, but then Clarke looked over her shoulders and shifted to make room in the twin bed. Lexa slipped out of her heels and joined her best friend. At first, nothing happened, and the only sound in the room was from the steady, circular motion Lexa's hand painted on Clarke's back.
It took half an hour for Clarke to start sobbing, and Lexa hugged her back and clung to her while her best friend broke down in ugly grief. Clarke cried until she passed out, her shoulders finally relaxing after the worst day of her life.
Lexa took off Clarke's jacket, her shoes, and her belt. She watched her sleep until the sun peeked at the window. She sat on the bed to strap her shoes on and leave, but Clarke held her hand. Lexa’s hand felt smaller in between those calloused fingers; since when did Clarke have hands like that?
"Stay?"
Lexa found sleepy, exhausted eyes staring at her. "Just a little longer." Clarke’s voice broke at the end, and Lexa lay back down on the bed.
"Anything you need."
"What about... what about your internship? You were so nervous about your presentation." Lexa wanted to slap Clarke for worrying about that while dehydrated from crying after her dad's funeral.
"Fuck it," Lexa breathed, hugging Clarke closer. "This is more important."
Outside, birds welcome the new day, insensitive to the grieving home.
Inside, Clarke started crying again.
Clarke didn't go back to college that fall semester. She got a temp job as a personal trainer, and Adam was one of her clients. That arrangement made it very difficult for Lexa to ignore the evolution of Clarke's biceps and posteriors while it appeared on her brother's stories every week. That was not the reason why Lexa would check Adam's Instagram at all; she was simply a concerned sister, of course.
The fact that Lexa did not hook up with anyone that semester was another interesting coincidence. And the alleged fact that the thought of Clarke's body heat from their night sleeping together would make Lexa instantly horny was debatable, at best. The reason why Lexa wore makeup for her flight home for Christmas was only because she wanted to get used to being more professional—a prerequisite for any respectable lawyer—and not because Adam had posted a selfie with Clarke as they helped with decorations in Lexa's living room.
That all being clear, Lexa was not prepared to open the door to her childhood home and find Clarke in a tank top carrying two boxes of Christmas apparatus from the attic. Lexa stared until Anya tapped her chin closed, and then she was berated by her older sister for not being happier that she was back home.
"You didn't die; I'm happy!" Lexa tossed back her head and blushed when Clarke hugged her, unashamedly lifting her up.
"Looking good, Lexa!" Clarke beamed, her nose red and a slight layer of sweat pooling at her temples. Her hair was shorter but still up in a bun, showing the recently shaved undercut.
"C'mon, we need to pick up the tree." Anya threw her arm around Clarke's neck, and Lexa noted that Clarke was an inch taller than her sister. When did that happen? "And stop ogling my sister. I have a gun, and I know how to use it." Both Lexa and Clarke erupted in blushes, and Anya nodded, dead serious. "Now let's go, or dad will flip if we don't get a good one."
Having the Griffins for Christmas looked like the start of a new tradition. Abby had lost weight, and both Indra and Gustus spent half the night trying to convince her to eat more. Clarke, on the other hand, had focused her grief in the gym, and even under winter layers, Lexa could always catch a glimpse of muscle. She tried to distract herself with Anya’s infamous eggnog, but it backfired spectacularly, as Lexa had the alcohol tolerance of a hamster. By the time Igor and Adam had retired to check out Adam’s new PS5, Clarke had offered to drive her mother home. Lexa, a little tipsy and uncaring, invited herself to join the ride, and Gustus nodded from his place in the kitchen when a red-eyed Anya talked in low tones with her dad. Yikes; Lexa did not want to stay and watch the aftermath of Anya talking about war with their veteran dad. So Lexa found herself in Clarke’s sedan, a beaten-up Honda she had bought with the money from selling Jake’s car. The rest would be to help pay her tuition, she had argued, since she had plans to go back in the spring.
Abby waved them good night and went straight to her room, but she shared a glance with Clarke before going up the stairs. Lexa wondered what that could be since it made the tips of Clarke’s ears pink.
They ended up trying to climb out the window of Clarke’s room to hang out on the rooftop like they did when they were kids, but the eggnog had hit hard for Lexa to forget it was freaking December and everything was icy. She barely placed her foot outside the window before collapsing back onto Clarke’s carpet. Her fall was softened, though, and Lexa realized Clarke had cushioned her fall as the alpha chucked from beneath her.
"I told you it was a bad idea," Clarke grunted, but didn’t move from the floor.
"No, you didn’t."
"I’m saying it now!" They burst out laughing again, drunkenly shushing each other for the raucous, but there was no noise from Abby’s room. Lexa stood up and made to help Clarke from the floor, but she was heavier than Lexa remembered, and they stumbled on Clarke’s bed in another pile of laughter.
Laughing with Clarke was contagious and comfortable, and it was either Anya's eggnog or Clarke's smile, but Lexa laughed until her belly hurt. Clarke joined her, their limbs entangled, the sheets wet from their coats, and it all was hilarious for Lexa. They finally calmed down until Lexa realized she was the only one chuckling. Clarke's cheeks, red from the cold, were warm to the touch, and the alpha's lips parted; her eyes glazed over with happiness and alcohol. Lexa's hand remained there, and she thumbed her beauty mark.
"You're handsome," Lexa whispered as if it were a secret, and felt Clarke gasp. Clarke's palm overtook Lexa's in size and warmth, lying on top of Lexa's fingers. Lexa didn't feel like laughing anymore; the heat in her belly was turning and changing. Eyes on Lexa, Clarke turned her face, her mouth under Lexa's touch, and Lexa's brain tried really hard to grasp what was going on, stumbling and struggling with the senses of touch, sight, and vision. When the surviving brain cells gathered their final report, an undignified sound escaped Lexa's throat, to which Clarke raised an eyebrow; but Lexa's brain was as correct as it could be in its assignment: the warm and wet touch in Lexa's sensitive palm was indeed Clarke's tongue, and the rat's squeak of a sound was Lexa's attempt at a moan.
"This okay?" Lexa's brain deescalated from DEFCON 4 as Clarke asked.
"What are we doing?" Lexa whispered, even though they were the only ones in the room.
"I really want to kiss you right now," Clarke admitted with a confidence Lexa didn’t remember in her shy friend. "I have wanted to kiss you for a long time."
Lexa bit her lips, moving her leg to fit snugly between Clarke’s. "Yeah?"
"Am I finally worthy of you?"
Lexa read the shade of vulnerability in Clarke’s eyes and touched her friend’s lips. "Don’t say it like that."
"Lexa." Clarke kissed Lexa’s knuckles, and Lexa cleared her throat not to sigh. "It took me a long time to accept who I am and to grow into the woman I am today. I know you didn’t look at me like that before I presented."
Lexa wanted to deny it, but the truth was that her high school crush paled compared to the feeling she had for this mature version of alpha Clarke. Lexa’s cheeks warmed at the thought.
"Dating is not easy for me," Clarke confessed. "Omegas expect me to know everything there is to know about being an alpha, and everything feels so alien sometimes. But... not with you. Never with you. I like when you look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like this." Clarke leaned in slowly, waiting to see if Lexa would stop or pull away. She didn’t.
The kiss tasted like eggnog and mint, like bubblegum and tea. It was soft but firm, and in high school Lexa would have blue-screened in overdrive, but law student Lexa took that high and rode it. They shuffled over the blankets, kicking off shoes and socks, jackets, and scarves, until Lexa’s nails finally, finally dug into the biceps, whose growth she had followed closely over the years. Clarke helped Lexa straddle her, and holy smokes, Lexa was grinding Clarke on her childhood bead on Christmas night, and it felt as good as coming home.
Clarke was home.
"Fuck, you’re a good kisser," Lexa blurted when they parted for air.
"Thank you. So are you," Clarke replied in the same breathless gasp, her hands warm on Lexa’s hips. Panting, they started at each other, Lexa’s long curls framing their faces and Clarke’s bun on the brink of being undone. Without a warning, they giggled together, and Lexa rolled on her side as the tension slowed to a comfortable silence.
"Why don’t we"—Clarke turned on her side, resting her weight on her elbow as her bun finally surrendered and blonde flopped down to her neck—"watch a movie tonight, kiss some more, and come back to it tomorrow when we’re both sober?"
"You don’t want to do anything with your mom a room away, isn’t it?"
"That too is a concern of mine. She also told me ‘no sex’ before she locked her bedroom, and I take her threats very seriously."
"Oh, my God," Lexa said between her palms as she hid her face. "Your mom thinks I’m a slut! Auntie Abby!"
"No." Clarke coerced Lexa’s hands away from her face and kissed a blushing cheek. "But she knows I have feelings for you."
"Oh, my God." Lexa hid on Clarke’s neck this time.
"I didn’t tell her! She asked, and I wasn’t going to lie."
A green eye peeked from between her fingers. "So you have feelings for me?" Lexa chuckled as Clarke’s blush escalated from pink to crimson. "Hey, hey, I’m joking. We can talk about it later."
Clarke’s relieved sigh almost made Lexa feel bad for teasing her. Almost.
Lexa was lulled to sleep with her nose buried in Clarke’s shoulder, a soft kiss on her forehead, and a large, warm palm resting on her hip. Her high school self would be proud.