The Donor and the Owner

HOLY HELL THIS IS LONG. Weighing in at a whopping 80 pages, here’s my gp one-shot. Go easy on my grammar, as I don’t have a beta.

Definitely not as sexy as I’m sure you all would like, but I hope you enjoy it.

“Sorry I’m late, the traffic was awful,” Clarke panted briefly and sat fluidly across from Lexa.

“It’s no problem,” the woman reassured easily. She watched as her old friend placed a black cloth napkin in her lap and settled. The years have certainly been kind to Clarke. The woman was absolutely stunning. Lexa smiled, “Three minutes past hardly counts as late, I think.”

The recently seated woman nodded gratefully, her eyes smiling.

“It’s nice to see you,” Clarke said in lieu of answering. “How have you been since Polis?”

Lexa settled herself, weighing her answer. She always got very mixed reactions when she was honest about ‘how she was doing’ and 20% of the time, her listeners were happy for her. The majority was not so pleasant, especially in secret. She decided to be honest, as Clarke’s honest blue eyes bore into her.

“I’m actually doing very well,” she said, allowing a small amount of the immeasurable pride she held to shine through, “I started my own real estate agency once I got out of school, and I’m proud to say Ark12 has been doing very well for itself.”

“Wow. That’s wonderful,” Clarke smoothed out, smiling gently, “Ark12 is enormous. That’s the one with the golden shield, right? I actually looked into using your services, but,” she smiled good naturedly, “the rates were out of my price range.”

Her cerulean eyes were delicately laughing, a sort of self-deprecating humor in them, and Lexa smiled largely.

‘Hello, 20%’ she thought to herself.

“Well, the clientele enjoy the ‘selectivity’, as they call it,” she rolled out, her voice ringed with mirth, “I prefer to call it ‘conceited’,” she gave a shrug that was as elegant as a ballroom curtsy, “but it does pay rent.”

Clarke allowed a brief smile.

“What were you looking to buy, if I may ask?” Lexa continued politely. A waiter in a black shirt, black slacks, and black bistro apron brought out a bottle of wine with glasses, and Lexa raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind,” Clarke cut in abruptly, “I thought you might like this one. It’s a recent label, but excellent. Whitehaven.”

Lexa was impressed, and slightly amused. In college, Clarke had drunk nothing but beer and tequila. She nodded her excited consent, and Clarke looked to the waiter.

“A platter? Fruit, olives, cheese.”

‘Where did this sophisticated creature come from?’

The waiter had taken off, and Lexa laughed lightly, her hands clasped lightly on top of the white tablecloth.

“Do you come here often?”

For some reason, Clarke laughed as she poured Lexa her wine. The brunette woman was struck suddenly by how pretty the expression was, and some part of her was sad at the rate of disappearance. She shook it off in time to catch a dryly amused,

“You have no idea.”

The waiter returned in record time to set the platter in front of the women, and Clarke nodded her thanks.

“Well you seem to know your way around the wine selection? Either you study the menu here, or you’re an alcoholic,” Lexa teased, and the blonde-haired woman smiled wryly.

“It honestly would be easier to be an alcoholic,” she finished her pouring and picked the glass up, “I opened a restaurant with Octavia Blake a couple years ago,” was her explanation.

“Octavia Blake? The one we went to college with?”

“The very same,” Clarke told her. “A couple of us stuck together after school,” she peered over her glass and smirked, “Not every one ran away to get rich quick.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lexa said, her eyes glimmering. Clarke matched her gaze. Was it just her or was there a hint of sexual tension in the air? Lexa sort of preened, her breath changing the subject slightly.

“So, how are Octavia and Lincoln?”

Clarke raised an eyebrow.

“Wow, you really did run away. Was it to social Siberia?”

“Pardon?”

“Octavia and Lincoln broke up about a year after graduation.”

Lexa leaned closer to the table in shock, her crossed legs making the position slightly dramatic, “You’re joking. I’ve thought this entire time that they’ve long since been married.”

The woman across from her shook her sun stained head, then tilted it considerately.

“Well, Octavia has actually been married for a while, now,” she allowed, lips twitching.

“Really now? To anyone I might know?” Lexa raised her wine to her lips, sitting back in her dark wood booth seat. Clarke smirked, copying her, bobbing the glass before answering.

“Yeah, actually. Octavia married Raven Reyes.”

Lexa almost snorted her wine back into her glass. Thankfully, years of refined reflexes saved her, and she swallowed harshly. Clarke raised an eyebrow and one corner of her lips.

“You alright there, Commander?”

Lexa laughed faintly and took a sip of water. Her eyes watered slightly and she blinked rapidly, lest a tear ruin her eyeliner.

“No one has called me that in 10 years,” she said weakly, “And I’m alright. I suppose that caught me the wrong way.”

Clarke merely continued to smirk.

“Shame, it really is damn good wine,” she said teasingly, and Lexa glared at her playfully. It was odd, how relaxed she was. If this had been a date, she’d ask for another.

“It is,” Lexa agreed lightheartedly, “But I had no idea that happened. The last I heard of Raven Reyes, she had mowed the front of Polis’ lawn into a certain part of the female anatomy,”

Clarke let out a full, unrestrained laugh, and Lexa laughed with her. Clarke had forgotten about that. But she nodded her head, confirming the incredible turnaround in her friend.

“It’s true though, they got married… Let’s see,” she considered, “8, maybe 9 years ago?”

“You’re kidding,” Lexa stoked, impressed and a little bit shocked. Her eyes casually glanced to Clarke’s empty left hand on her wine glass and dismissed the line of thought, “That’s quite a long time. Do they have kids?”

Here, Clarke seemed to freeze, and Lexa’s keen eyes caught the pause of the already hard to read woman. But after a millisecond, the woman resumed her cool demeanor.

“They have three, and are still reproducing,” She said, her eyebrows raised as if to give her friend props, “But Raven said after the next one, she’s done.”

“Raven has carried their children?” Lexa replied. It’s been quite a surprising luncheon. Clarke laughed at her incredulousness.

“Yep,” she finalized. Clarke’s smile died somewhat, and she looked out to the rest of the peacefully dining restaurant. Here, Lexa felt the atmosphere shift, and the itch at the corner of her brain fizzled madly, needing to be scratched.

“Clarke?” she prompted gently, her curiosity intensifying by the second as she observed the growing discomfort on Clarke’s pale face. Clarke bit her lip and looked back into Lexa’s own beautiful face, her intelligent green eyes sparkling with interest.

“Lexa, I realize I owe you an explanation for asking you to lunch so suddenly.” She started slowly, then paused.

“I’d hardly call a week’s notice ‘suddenly’,” Lexa replied graciously. Clarke shot her a peculiar look and dryly told her,

“After 11 years?”

Lexa smiled, tilting her head in acknowledgement.

“But,” Clarke wet her lips, looking away, and the emerald eyes didn’t miss the action, “Before I do that, I’m afraid I need to ask you an incredibly personal question. I hope you’ll forgive me ahead of time.”

Lexa raised an eyebrow and her glass of wine at the same time, and Clarke only grew more agitated before her eyes. She was honestly confused beyond measure.

“As long as you provide an explanation for your question,” she said slowly. The atmosphere was incredibly tense. The women were practically sitting ramrod straight in their seats. The blonde nodded. She cast a sweeping glance around for any eavesdroppers, but the room was clear of them.

Clarke pulled a deep, slow breath.

‘Here goes’ she thought to herself, her stomach in knots.

“Lexa, are you, uhm, sterile?”

The woman’s eyes blew wide, and ice slid down her spine. Her chestnut curls fluttered as her head whipped to check her surroundings as Clarke had.

“W-well,” she stuttered, caught off guard and left-footed. Clarke could have hit her with a shovel, and she wouldn’t have been as surprised. The light-haired woman winced. Out of sheer stun, Lexa looked back to Clarke and answered.

“Uhm,” she cleared her throat, desperately trying to calm down, “No,” she glanced about once more, “No, I’m not.”

Clarke seemed to relax minutely, and Lexa’s eyebrows lowered, even more confused. She had almost forgotten that her circle of friends in college were aware of her condition.

“Clarke?” she cleared her throat once more, “Why, ahem, why do you ask?”

The woman shifted under her gaze, but her spine was rigid.

“I’m very willing to explain myself, Lexa, but, please,” her husking voice was low and asking, “Wait until I’m finished, and then I’ll leave you alone,”

Lexa felt a sinking in her stomach, but she nodded slowly, her eyes locked on Clarke. The pinned woman peered closely into Lexa’s eyes, and was relieved to find honest confusion in them. She took another breath and plowed forward.

“I’m 33, and I’m not married, and I’m not seeing anyone,” she started lowly, never looking away from Lexa’s calm face, trying to gauge a reaction, “And I very much want a baby before it’s too late.”

A scroll of astonishment rolled across Lexa’s eyes, but Clarke ignored it.

“For a few years, I’ve been considering each of my options as to how to conceive, and I believe I’ve found my most favored way to do it. I was never interested in sperm donors, as there are too many unidentifiable variables for my comfort. Invitro only has a 7% chance of taking, and I honestly just don’t have the money to keep attempting. So my next option was the erm, old fashioned way?” Clarke attempted, and Lexa remained perfectly still.

“I have a lot of friends, and friends of my friends, but when I mapped it out, I could really only make a decisive list of a small few,” she kept burning blue eyes on Lexa, “Lexa, I’m asking you to get me pregnant.”

The woman in question felt her lips part. She was stunned.

“You won’t have to do anything at all,” Clarke rushed. “It will be like it never happened, and you can happily move on with your life, I promise you. Completely no strings attached,” she attempted a strained smile at the perfectly astounded face of Lexa Woods, “It could even be kind of fun for you? It would be a huge favor,” her voice sort of died, and Lexa reboot her brain.

“Clarke,” she fell silent, staring at the woman. Absently, or deliberately, Clarke didn’t know, she reached for her mostly full glass of wine. Lightly gripping the base, she brought it to her lips and tipped the entire thing into her mouth.

Even in the wire taut feeling between them, Clarke felt herself smile a bit. She cleared it just in time for Lexa to look at her, and she could practically see the racing thoughts.

‘No’. Was Lexa’s first reaction. ‘No.’ And then it was an internal debate, seemingly the classic devil and the angel, but Lexa had no idea who was who.

‘Well why not?’

‘You don’t want to be a mother!’

‘Didn’t you just hear her? You won’t have anything to do with it! You’ll knock her up, then never see her again.’

‘You’ll have conceived a child!’

‘That you won’t have any ties to.’

‘Genetics!’

‘So? Genetics doesn’t make you family. And why not, you haven’t gotten laid in ages.’

‘That’s true enough. And Clarke was the hottest girl at Polis.’

‘Now she’s the hottest woman you’ll have had in bed.’

‘Wasn’t she on the track team?’

‘Must be incredibly flexible. Wonder if she can-‘

Lexa snapped out of her thoughts before they could get any more lewd. Her stomach was filled with electric butterflies, and she watched as the slim, beautiful woman across from her tried to look uncaring.

“You… really want a child?” was her first question. Clarke’s heart double-timed. Lexa was actually considering it!

“I do,” she said seriously, her low tones soft, “I have for a long time, and I’m finally in a position where I could comfortably support one.”

Lexa nodded, trusting the answer. She didn’t know Clarke as well today, but she had always been a free spirit. In her studies, and in her personal life. She wouldn’t arbitrarily wake up one morning and decided to knock herself up.

“And you want me to,” Lexa made a roundabout motion with her hand while she pinched the bridge of her nose, “to, help you with this?”

Clarke seemed to suffer a flicker of a smile at Lexa’s wording. This might actually turn out well. She was hoping and praying. She had waited a long, long time.

“I do,” she quieted out, fiddling with the bottom of her glass. She stilled her hands and buckled down, “I know you to be wildly intelligent, and gorgeous, and focused to almost a fault,”

Lexa lifted a brow. Most people just called her a bitch.

“But you have always been an incredibly kind individual, with the best interests of people at heart. I think your personality and traits would be excellent genetic material.”

“I see,” Lexa said carefully. Clarke studied her intently until she replied, “Alright then.”

Clarke paused for a long moment.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Lexa smiled, slightly amused.

“I said alright. I’ll do it. Only if you’re being honest with me.”

“I-I am!” Clarke said, taking her turn in being surprised. Lexa sort of liked the expression on the woman’s normally brilliantly-expressional face, “I’m so happy to hear that,” she said, voice still light.

Lexa nodded her head.

“So, when did you want to start?”

“Start?”

Lexa checked her watch, “We could start tonight if you really wanted. I have a couple things I need to finish at the office, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Uh, erm, sure. Tonight.” Clarke’s brain was scrambling to catch up. Lexa agreed? And she wants to do it tonight? She watched as Lexa started to shift to gather her purse and coat.

“Would you like my phone number?” Clarke offered, her brain starting to turn over once more.

“Excellent idea,” Lexa said evenly, taking her phone out and putting in the numbers Clarke recited, “Send me your information. It was nice having lunch with you, Clarke, see you tonight!”

“Er, see you!” Clarke said, waving at the tall woman as she walked away in a power suit and heels. As soon as she had exited her line of sight, Clarke leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, breathing.

“So?”

Her eyes opened, and she observed her best friend and co-owner, Octavia. The grin started in her eyes, and touched her mouth. Before long, a brilliant smile had taken Clarke’s face, and the married woman laughed.

“Wow. I can’t believe it. She said yes?”

Clarke breathed.

“She said yes,”

Octavia watched her best friend wander off in her own elated world. She was truly happy for her. Even if her wife thought this was a terrible idea, Octavia was glad Clarke was finally getting something she wanted.

“Ms. Woods?”

“Can it wait?” The woman replied, eying the glass of scotch in her hand. An observer would assume she was speaking to an empty room, but the telephone on her office desk blinked otherwise.

“Of course Ms. Woods, it’s only Mr. Smythe delivering the report.”

“Thank you, Harper.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

A click.

Lexa sipped the amber liquid and took a glance at the clock. 6:40. Clarke had texted her her home address, an apartment complex Lexa drove by every morning. She was expected to be there at 8 o’clock.

“Relax, Lexa,” she said, this time actually speaking to an empty room, “It’s not like you’ve never been asked to conceive a child for an old friend before?”

She paused, letting the tick of the clock on the wall get louder and louder before she groaned.

“Great, now I’m talking to myself. I’m literally going insane.” She swallowed another burning mouthful of alcohol, and leaned forward to tap her office phone.

“Yes, Ms. Woods?”

“Harper, will you get me Anya on a private line?”

“Of course,”

“Thank you,”

She waited a moment, observing her office. It was beautifully furnished, with certifications lining the walls. Lexa wrinkled her nose. It was a cold room, honestly, and she found herself prisoner there far too often to the jailer that was paperwork.

“Ms. Forrester is on line 4 for you, ma’am,”

“Thank you, Harper,”

Lexa stretched forward to pick the phone up off of the receiver and pushed the flashing ‘4’. Instantly, dulled music filled her ear.

“Anya?”

“Lexa, hey. What’s going on?”

“I’m having sex tonight.”

Lexa swallowed another mouthful of scotch, the ice clinking, and Anya laughed over the sound of her club in the background. She and Lexa had met a few years ago when Lexa found the lot to build her club on in the perfect location. They had hit it off from the start, and were very close.

“Congrats,” the woman’s voice responded airily, “About time, too. You’ve been out of commission for too long.”

“I’m going to get her pregnant,”

“Whoa, that’s the spirit! Sounds like she’ll be a tiger in bed. You go,”

“Anya, I’m serious,” Lexa sat back in her chair and put the cool glass to her temple, “She asked me to get her pregnant.”

The line was quiet save for the steady thump of club music before the woman replied.

“Lexa, are you serious?”

“Completely,”

“And you’re going to do it?”

“I don’t see why not. She doesn’t want any help raising the child. I suppose I’ll have a nice time with her, then walk away. Is that so crazy?”

“Of course it’s fucking crazy!” Anya shouted over the line, “You realize you can’t just hit it and quit it, Lex? You’ll have to keep at it until she’s actually got your bun in her oven?”

“I thought about that,” Lexa said ponderously.

“It sounds like you haven’t thought about this at all,” the phone accused her, and Lexa sighed.

“And how does she know you can actually pull it off?” her friend asked.

“We knew each other in college,” Lexa replied.

“Shit, Lexa,” Anya sighed. “Well did you ever sleep with her then?”

“Well,” Lexa tilted her head at the ceiling and chuckled, “No. If I remember correctly, she's been bisexual for a very long time,”

“She’s gay?”

Lexa hummed interestedly, “The last I heard, yes.”

“If she's been with primarily women, she’s probably tight as hell,” Anya snickered, and Lexa’s lips quirked. She hadn’t thought of that. And now that she did think of it, she felt a familiar pulsating between her legs.

“I just thought you should know,” Lexa said, slightly changing the subject. Anya laughed.

“Well, shit. Thanks, I guess. Although I maintain that this is a bad idea. She must be smoking hot, right?”

Lexa considered, her lips pulling in a smile.

“She is,”

Anya laughed shortly.

“Knew it. Have fun,”

Lexa bid her adieu and hung up the phone. She really didn’t know what she expected Anya to say. Perhaps she was looking for reassurance? Anya took it fairly well, though she wasn’t the type to make a big deal out of anything. It was one of the things Lexa liked about the cynical club owner. She glanced at the clock once more. 7:15.

‘Well, here goes.’

“Lexa!” Clarke stood in her doorway with damp hair and a silk robe wrapped around her, “You’re early!”

Lexa smiled, not at all apologetic. It was 7:45, and that was even after circling the block three times. Her stomach was in knots.

“Yes," she started smally, "I’m afraid it didn’t take me as long to get here as I thought,”

“Oh, that’s uh, fine,” Clarke ran a hand through her hair, “Shit, come in, please,”

“Thank you,” Lexa accepted, stepping through the foyer. She found herself in what she would consider a dump. It was tidy, yes. But not to her tastes. Incredibly small, there was only a short hallway, and the rest was open. The kitchen was easily the most impressive part of the apartment, but it lacked a dining table of any sort.

“So, did you just want to get started?”

Clarke’s smoky voice called her attention, and Lexa was trying to figure out when the situation would stop surprising her. But she took the blunt suggestion in stride and laughed at the look on the shorter woman’s face.

“Why not?” she answered, shrugging, “I’m glad that was the most romantic way you could think of to start the night,” she teased, and followed Clarke to – yes – the bedroom. The woman had thrown a laugh behind her.

“Don’t worry, we can screw, then watch porn and high five later, if you want. We’ll keep it really sophisticated.”

Lexa scoffed a laugh.

“Right, well, I’m gonna go clean up and I’ll be out in 5,” Clarke promised on entry to the room, “Anything I can get you? Gatorade? Energy drink?”

Lexa rolled her green eyes at Clarke’s dry humor.

“Not being a teenage boy, I’m going to have to turn down those offers, thank you though,”

The blonde-haired woman smirked and disappeared into the bathroom. Lexa dutifully took her cue and started to undress. Clarke’s bedroom was very neat, with a faithful set of drawers and vanity, with the centerpiece being a queen-sized bed. The black sheets looked soft, and Lexa vaguely wondered what the thread count was. A single lamp illuminated the room from a bedside table with a few books on top.

Lexa stripped down to her underwear and briefly debated what to do. The most disturbing thing to her was that she, oddly enough, didn’t feel odd enough. There didn’t seem to be a panic in her stomach, and she quietly reflected that she trusted Clarke. The wild woman was funny, obviously sane, but seemed to be hiding a slightly cute sort of dorkiness that tickled Lexa when she revealed it.

“Might as well,” Lexa spoke to herself, removing her bra and underwear as well. Her tucked penis was freed from between her legs and she let out a generous sigh of comfort. She crossed to the bed and slipped under Clarke’s sheets, throwing off the heavy comforter to the foot of the bed.

‘Very soft’ she thought, pleased, but the mattress wasn’t the best quality. ‘Ah well.’ She turned to lie on her side, propped on her elbow, making sure the sheet draped over her curves sexily, revealing a good amount of her bare breasts. Lexa was by no means ashamed of her body, but she didn’t want to give Clarke a heart attack on the first night.

She waited a few extra heartbeats, watching the door, and strained her hearing. Nothing. Just as she was about to call and check on the woman, the light flipped off, and Clarke emerged.

The women stared at each other, Clarke at the gorgeous and obviously naked woman in her bed, and Lexa at the full, womanly build of the hottest woman she’d seen in a long time, in nothing but a very skimpy set of blue lingerie.

“Glad to see you made yourself comfortable,” Clarke chuckled, breaking the suddenly hot air. Lexa smiled in response, her eyes tracking over the slide of muscles in Clarke’s legs as she crossed to the bed.

“My hostess left me to my own devices,” she said easily, feeling her cock start to harden at the sex symbol climbing into bed with her, “It’s really her fault for letting me get up to no good.”

Clarke laughed and sidled up to come face to face with Lexa without much preamble. She wasn’t wasting time, and apparently meant business. Lexa liked that.

“Oh, is this the part where I call you a bad girl and tell you I’m going to teach you a lesson?”

Lexa grinned, her face getting closer to the beautiful blue-eyed woman’s, “No, this is the part where you kiss me back,” And she kissed her easily.

Clarke was a wonderful kisser. Really, she was. Lexa later reflected that it must have come from years of going down on women, because the blonde had a mastery of her lips and tongue that blew Lexa’s mind.

The brunette woman rolled Clarke onto her back and commenced with some heavy petting. She wasn’t quite sure where the line was between what was appropriate or not for a ‘favor’, but Lexa felt that as long as a good time was being had by all, it didn’t hurt.

When they paused to take a break, Lexa carefully watched Clarke’s intelligent eyes as she smoothly situated herself on top of the woman. Clarke peered back into Lexa’s forest colored eyes and calmly spread her legs.

“And you’re sure about this?” Lexa asked cautiously. Clarke snorted and nodded, somehow still attractive. It might have had to do with the fact that Lexa had stripped her of her remaining articles of clothing, and her breasts were perfect and full.

“I am,” the woman confirmed. She cast a wondering glance down their barely joined bodies below the sheets, and put her hand in her hair, “Do you need to ah,” she seemed to search, “Ya know, wake it up?”

Lexa almost choked on her laugh, “Er, no. It’s fine. I’m sufficiently warmed up. Are you… ready for me?” She made a similar gesture to the covered lower half of their bodies, and Clarke bit her lip, trying desperately not to smile. Instead she reached a hand below and Lexa watched, amused, as her face flexed and flushed.

A moment passed, and Clarke retracted her hand.

“Now I am,” she said, trying so obviously not to show Lexa her embarrassment. She spread her legs further and waited for Lexa to situate herself over her smaller frame. Lexa positioned the head of her cock closer to the heat she could feel radiating onto her sensitive flesh.

This was it.

“Ow! Shit!” Clarke yelped, accidently snapping her legs over Lexa’s hips.

“What’s wrong?”

Clarke grimaced, “You’re too big,”

Lexa blinked, “I- I don’t think I’ve ever been told that as a complaint before,” Clarke gave a shudder and rolled her blue eyes briefly.

“Just, go slow? Also, your hand is on my hair.”

“Excuse me,”

“Did you…”

“Uh, maybe next time?”

“.. Right,” Lexa was still catching her breath, listening to Clarke, less affected beside her, “I can go again?”

“Oh, wow, that was quick,”

Lexa raised an eyebrow, swiveling to look at the wonderfully naked woman. Clarke backtracked, “Shit, no, not like that! You lasted, ya know, a while. Shit, you know what I meant!”

Lexa laughed heartily and rolled back on top of Clarke, growling playfully.

“I do. But just in case, let me remind you just how long I can last,”

“Right,” Lexa said, later, “And this time?”

“I was closer?”

The brunette winced, “I’ve never encountered this problem before.”

“Uh huh,” was Clarke’s sly reply. Lexa glared at the woman, and Clarke only laughed whole-heartedly, “So, are you done?”

“I believe so. If you want another round, I’ll have to request for that Gatorade and a sandwich,”

Clarke laughed and rolled to face Lexa, biting her lip. The worked out woman raised an enquiring eyebrow at her hesitation. Clarke was really too much. They had just finished having sex, the most intimate act between people, with the specific purpose of impregnating her, and she was still hesitant.

“Lexa,” she started, “You don’t have to sneak out like some kind of one night stand, you know. I’d never make you do that,”

Lexa tilted her head, her sculpted face set in affected amusement.

“It would be nice if we could even be friends, I think,” Clarke finished, her vocals low.

Lexa smiled, “I’d like that,” she gave a small stretch, “Besides, you have incredibly comfortable sheets, and I feel like getting everything I can out of them,”

Clarke snorted and settled back onto the bed, “Idiot,” she muttered petulantly.

“Clarke?”

“Hey, Lexa, what’s going on?” a slight shift in the phone line, and Clarke switched ears to hear better, “Lexa?”

“Hi, I’m here, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, what’s going on?”

“I’m so sorry, it completely slipped my mind, but I have a terrible work dinner that I’m expected to be at right now, and I’ll be ridiculously late coming over,”

Clarke laughed, “Wow, that’s actually incredibly convenient. Some asshole just put in a last minute call to the restaurant and wants the private room for 30-85 people, can you believe that?”

Lexa grimaced in sympathy from where she was riding in a taxi, cell phone in hand, “The nerve of people who want what they pay for,” she cajoled, and smiled when Clarke barked a laugh, “Anyways, but speaking of coincidences, our dinner is at that restaurant you took me to lunch at, isn’t that funny?”

The line went silent for a pause, and when Clarke answered, she seemed to be laughing, “Incredibly funny. Hey, Lexa, I think I’ll just see you later, alright?”

Lexa’s nod went unseen, but she bade Clarke goodbye and secretly dreaded having to attend this dinner. At least the wine would be good, she thought airily.

Her arrival was met with many professional welcomes, and she grit her teeth and asked the floating waitress for a glass of the Whitehaven, smiling all the while. The girl instantly disappeared, and Lexa suffered through a chat with Gary from payroll, before she reappeared.

“Ma’am, I’m happy to tell you that this bottle was bought for you. On the house,” Lexa raised an eyebrow, but smiled.

“Goodness, such kindness, the house truly doesn’t know how saving they’ve just become,” she laughed, and the waitress giggled with her. She had probably made her way through half the bottle when a familiar voice called over the party of mingling coworkers.

“Hello, my name is Chef Clarke Griffin, and I’m one of the owners here at Ambassador's,” Lexa turned, wine in hand at the low, husking voice. Clarke was dressed in a pencil skirt and a blue, feminine button up blouse, “Thank you all for choosing to dine with us, and I hope you’ll enjoy some complimentary appetizers,”

She flourished a hand, and a line of servers entered with plates of shrimp, crab cakes, ahi tuna, bruschetta, and various others. Lexa caught the woman’s dancing eyes as the company applauded their host. She felt her posture soften considerably and she laughed aloud, possibly looking deranged.

‘Of course this is Clarke’s restaurant’

When the party cleared, Lexa stayed behind, and Clarke re-entered the room to gloat at her. Lexa rolled her eyes, crossing to the laughing blonde. Clarke treated her to an actual dinner, and bitched about the party while Lexa defended her lack of control.

“Not for a second,” Clarke had said, did she buy that line. Dinner went famously, and Lexa invited Clarke back to her apartment.

“Your mattress is the most God-awful thing to ever touch my spine,” Lexa informed the woman.

Clarke burst out laughing.

So their pattern began.

“And now?”

“I promise you’ll get there,”

“You’re kidding!” Lexa was starting to get upset, and Clarke only laughed at her, smoothing a hand through the wildly curling brunette locks, free from a day's subjugation.

“It’s fine, Lexa! I swear,”

“It’s not fine,” she growled, only to have Clarke laugh at her and roll to click the lights all the way off.

“Oh Jesus, Lexa, can’t you control that thing?”

Lexa glared at the whining blonde sleepily, entertained, “Mm, need I remind you that it is morning?”

Clarke let out a rusty chuckle against her pillow, “Your little friend already reminded me for you, don’t you think?”

Lexa didn’t reply, simply resuming her activity of getting out of the warm, comfortable bed with dragging feet, “It’s not little,” she muttered. Whether Lexa intended Clarke to hear her or not didn’t matter – she had – and she laughed largely.

Clarke rolled to her front, stretching.

“I need to shower,” Lexa changed the subject, walking into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

“Shower here,” Clarke replied easily, “You can borrow some jeans and a shirt,” a look from Lexa told her exactly what Lexa thought of that outfit, and Clarke smiled, “What? Don’t you give your employees casual Fridays?”

At Lexa’s wincing facial expression, Clarke propped herself on her elbow and stared at the naked, and steadily brushing woman, her half erection not phasing Clarke in the slightest.

Secretly, she considered Lexa’s morning wood a little bit cute, “Oh God, are you the bitch?” Lexa raised a plain eyebrow, unable to respond, “You know, the married-to-her-work, laser pointer up her ass, never eats lunch, doesn’t believe in casual Fridays bitch?” The blank stare said it all, and Clarke simply sighed.

When Lexa had returned from a manager’s meeting regarding some HR issues and her newly implemented casual Fridays, Harper told her a woman had come looking for her.

“Hopefully it’s not Kate,” she said dryly to her personal assistant, “I’ve rejected that property three times,” but entering her office, it obviously hadn’t been Kate. Because Kate wouldn’t have left a wrapped box of food with the digital image of ‘Ambassador's’ on the front, on top of her desk.

Lexa smiled as she picked up a note of a crudely drawn vagina, with a circle over a notch at the top and an arrow labeled,

‘This is what you’re looking for, idiot.’

To the side, a chibi worker she assumed was herself wore a confused expression and a helmet with a headlamp. Her green eyes sparkled as she grinned monumentally and folded the note, putting it in her pocket before eating.

“Lexa?” Clarke bit her lip, knocking on the bathroom door lightly, “Lexa, come on, I told you, it’s perfectly fine. I’m sure you just drank too much tonight.”

She waited nervously, listening for any kind of movement, “Hey, why don’t we watch a movie? There’s a new episode of that one really terrible show you love on your DVR?”

Her head leaned against the doorframe, and she retied her hair, rubbing her bare arms against her equally bare body, “Please, Lexa? It’s not so bad, I promise. I know it’s not your fault. We’ll just skip tonight.”

Suddenly, the door opened and a livid Lexa stepped out, grabbed Clarke by the waist and pushed her onto the silk-sheeted King sized bed in Lexa’s apartment.

“This doesn’t happen to me,” her throat was thick with irritation, and she strongly parted Clarke’s legs and latched her mouth onto the woman’s sex. Almost immediately, Clarke came with a cry, and Lexa grinned wickedly. Seems like Clarke had been feeling the pressure.

She dipped and swirled her tongue in perfect rhythms, and Clarke, smiling with relief, came hard. Her moans were an aphrodisiac, and Lexa felt herself harden with triumph. Brandishing her now beautifully erect length, Clarke laughed breathlessly.

“So, no TV?”

“Lexa, move over,”

“Clarke, you’re going to push me off the bed,”

“I don’t want to sleep in the wet patch!”

Lexa scoffed, “They’re your fluids,” she defended, and practically felt Clarke’s heated blue glare in the dark.

“Do I have to remind you that you’re the one who ejaculates, Lexa?”

The taller woman huffed, “Fine, come here,” she reached an arm out and wrapped a hand to Clarke’s hip, bringing the small blonde closer by rolling her back into Lexa’s front.

The two settled together and slept. In the morning, Lexa valiantly washed the sheets, and Clarke smiled over her coffee at the continuous stream of grumbling.

Clarke broke her focus from the restaurant’s budget reports to check her phone, reading that she had a new image message from Lexa Woods. When she opened it, she immediately dropped her phone and covered it with papers, smiling innocently as Octavia raised an eyebrow next to her.

Clarke Griffin: ‘What in the hell is wrong with you?!’

While a couple investigated the property she was showing them, Lexa grinned at her phone and texted back.

Lexa Woods: ‘What do you mean?’

Clarke Griffin: ‘I am at work. Why are you sending me porn when I’m at work?’

Lexa Woods: ‘It’s not porn.’

Lexa Woods: ‘I did some research. This is the position that allows sperm to get closest to the cervix.’

Lexa waited a full five minutes before her phone notified her of a new message, and she smirked.

Clarke Griffin: ‘We’ll talk about this after dinner, you nympho.’

“I’m sorry, Lexa! I couldn’t -”

“Right. It’s fine, Harper, thank you. Will you hold all my calls for now?”

The brunette assistant nodded meekly, and exited the doorway. Clarke shot her back a glare and entered the office completely. She shut and locked the door, turning back to face Lexa with a particular look.

“I’m ovulating,” she said simply.

Lexa’s mouth opened in shock, but she composed herself, “I’m at work, Clarke,”

“It’ll take five minutes,” she argued, crossing to Lexa’s desk.

The woman frowned, “What are you saying?”

Clarke rolled her eyes, “Lexa. You are incredibly satisfying, your dick is large, you last forever, and you make me come. Okay. Is your ego happy now?”

Lexa huffed elegantly, standing and unbuckling her pants, stroking herself into hardness. It didn’t take much. Clarke had hiked her skirt around her hips, pulled her panties down, and placed her hands on Lexa’s desk.

When Lexa entered the woman, their height differences forced Lexa to lean into her thrusts. They had gotten quite good at sex, but never standing up before, and it proved to be very, very nice. Lexa groaned and rolled her hips decisively into Clarke as she held the woman’s slim hips, their skin slapping together delightfully.

Clarke, honestly, was the best she’d ever had, and Lexa loved being inside of her. Clarke’s inner walls were always slippery and hot, squeezing her dick from every side wonderfully. As for Clarke, Lexa had proved to be incredibly skilled, she only had to tune her body to receive the channels Lexa was emitting. After the adjustment, she saw stars every time.

Lexa pressed her breasts into Clarke’s back, and the woman moaned. Lexa really could have gone a couple of hours and no less than two rounds, but Clarke had a goal.

So when she felt the first tightenings in her twitching dick, she relaxed into the feeling, and her slim fingers found Clarke’s clit. Her timing won out, and they climaxed together. Usually, Clarke would lie horizontally for at least 30 minutes after they had had sex to encourage a sperm to take, but here she simply panted a few times and fixed her clothing, straightening. The woman used her panties in lieu of the warm towel Lexa would normally bring her to clean up the aftermath of their coupling, and dropped the garment into Lexa's trash.

Lexa watched her with interest, laughing at the overall turn out of Clarke’s visit. She tucked herself back into her pants and kissed Clarke once more in farewell. Hopefully, Harper would assume they had gotten into a screaming match instead of what really had just occurred. Clarke’s blushing cheeks would surely give them away.

“Wow, I don't think that seared tenderloin agreed with me,” Lexa commented idly, riding herself of her shoes while seated on the bed. On the other side, Clarke nodded.

“I think it wasn’t so much ‘seared’ as ‘microwaved’. Honestly, the thyme wasn’t even charred,” she grumbled, removing her shirt and pants. That reminded her, she very seriously needed to have a discussion with their beef provider about their new strip steaks. And the sous chef about who trained the expo guy. Oh, and table 43 is no longer even with the floor…

Lexa had stripped down and slowly started to get herself hard, mind wandering. A staff meeting needed to be arranged, but knowing one of her managers, the memo never was sent out. Which was a problem because a new listing had opened, and he was depriving his agents…

She crawled to Clarke, and the women began to distractedly kiss. Eventually, Clarke pulled away and grimaced, “Lexa, can we just sleep?”

The brunette executive jumped on the suggestion, “Oh thank God, I’m just not in the mood, Clarke, I’ve got a million things on my mind,”

The smaller woman laughed and nodded, “We’ve had sex nearly every night for three months, and I’m exhausted. Not to mention sore.”

Lexa hummed her sympathy, climbing under the covers and pulling Clarke to settle on her chest. They kissed easily in gratitude to each other. It was reflexive, and neither paused to think about it before quickly succumbing to sleep. 

“She’s clearly going to leave Alex for Australia,” Clarke muttered darkly, glaring at the enormous television in Lexa’s spacious living room. Behind her, Lexa laughed.

“Have a little faith!” she admonished, “And quit calling her ‘Australia’. Her character’s name is Stella,”

“The most stereotypically Australian name in existence!” Clarke crowed, “They might as well have named her ‘Sheila’ or ‘Kangaroo Jackie’.” Here, she giggled at her own joke, and Lexa laughed shortly.

“Uhg,” Clarke groaned, “My cramps aren’t usually this bad on my period. My vagina feels odd,”

Lexa muttered her condolences, eyes focusing over Clarke’s head to the screen, “Perhaps because you’ve had sex every day of the month and now you’re tightening?”

“Why do I feel like you’re saying that with hope?” Clarke murmured dryly.

“What? I have no idea what you mean. I’m perfectly satisfied with your vagina the way it is,”

“Really?” the woman replied, also focusing on the screen.

“Mhm,” came Lexa’s reply, “You feel absolutely amazing inside,”

“Huh. Thank you,” Clarke leaned her head backwards to turn into Lexa’s neck behind her, and she itched her nose on Lexa’s tshirt, “You feel just fine as well,”

Lexa hummed, and watched as Piper Chapman organized a used underwear business on their current favorite TV show.

“That’s disgusting,” she commented. She felt Clarke nod against her.

“What do you even do with that? Masturbate and inhale?”

“Why do you assume I know?”

Clarke shrugged, “I don’t know, you have a penis? And you seem to know your way around it,”

Lexa scoffed, “I would say you do, too,”

A burst of laughter, and Clarke head butted backwards into Lexa lightly, “That reminds me, what is the deal with sending girls pictures of your dick? I just don’t get it. Do they expect the recipient to immediately drop their panties and call a taxi?”

Lexa smiled but shrugged, “Your guess is better than mine. I’ve never felt the inclination to send a picture to anyone,”

“No?”

“No,”

“Why not?”

Lexa thought, trying to word her answer specifically.

“Because the camera can’t zoom out that far,”

"Clarke, I don't understand-" 

"Clearly!"

Lexa rolled her eyes and shut her apartment door behind her. 

"Did you just roll your eyes at me?" Clarke snapped, tossing her coat over the back of the couch, Lexa's green eyes following the act shrewdly.

"Why did you just do that?" She ground, "I've told you a million times-"

"It doesn't matter, Lexa! I put it away after I change and you know that!"

"Why won't you respect that I like some things a certain way?" She growled, her voice raising slightly.

"Some things?" Clarke repeated scornfully, "Some things? Lexa, you have a whole system for how you fold your laundry! And put the dishes away, and you fucking pee in the middle of the night!"

The brunette blanched. 

"What?"

Clarke huffed, deeply irritated.

"You always get out of bed to pee in the middle of the night, and for some reason, you never flush the fucking toilet! And, Lexa, and you leave the seat up!"

The brunette's jaw worked angrily. 

"Because I wake up before you and put it down anyway, and I don't want to wake you up in the middle of the night with the noise!" She ran a hand through her hair, "Is that what this is really about, Clarke?"

The blonde huffed and folded her arms, looking away. 

"I know I sound crazy, but Lex," her eyes narrowed, "It bothers me so much,"

Lexa grit her teeth, "I don't know what you want me to do about it. I have to pee after sex to keep everything, you know," she gestured vaguely towards her pelvis, "clean,"

Clarke raised an eyebrow, eyeing the woman's crotch, "Then why don't you just pee directly afterwards?"

The brunette huffed sharply, "Because! You don't like it when I leave directly afterwards!"

"Oh my god, Lexa, I meant leave the apartment!" Clarke tried to calm down, "I can survive 5 minutes,"

The brunette scowled and looked away, "Fine then, I'll just fuck you, leave, piss, and then have a glass of scotch and read the paper!"

Clarke's head reared backwards, and she eyed the pouting executive. 

"Lexa," she started hesitantly, "Look, I'm sorry for not being direct to start with. But what in the hell is wrong with you?"

Lexa bit her lip and crossed her arms, exhaling slowly as she scuffed the waxed floor. Clarke waited.

"I don't like to leave right after, okay?" Lexa muttered. 

It clicked, and Clarke's expression cleared. She sighed deeply and nodded to herself. Uncrossing her arms, she stepped toward the proud brunette and tilted her face up to meet her eyes. The keen viridian orbs scanned the blonde's features and instinctively returned Clarke's embrace.

"Alright Lex," Clarke murmured soothingly, "I'm sorry. I like that you stay after we finish. I do. You do that great impression of a drunk triathlete at the finish line that you know I'm so into," she grinned at Lexa's scoff. "I won't mind being woken up for 30 seconds when you get up,"

Lexa hummed and dusted a kiss to Clarke's lips. 

"Good," she kissed the woman again, "It's the least you can do after you racked me yesterday,"

Clarke laughed, and grimaced, "I said I was sorry about that," then, a wicked gleam came to her eyes and she pulled backwards to cast a cursory glance at Lexa's lean frame, "Although," she husked, "I could kiss it better if you wanted me to?" 

Lexa smiled broadly, and bent slightly to ask Clarke to jump. Legs locked securely around the fit waist, Clarke laughed all the way to the bedroom. 

Lexa had no idea what the difference between iodized salt and sea salt was, so she got both. The small basket was loaded with what Clarke had, almost in tears, called ‘essentials’. She’d then refused to cook another meal at Lexa’s until the situation was rectified.

The tall brunette woman smiled to herself, remembering the horror and resulting take out dinner after the smaller blonde had raided her pantry’s dark cherry shelves.

Clarke’s sister was visiting and currently staying at her apartment, so Lexa had woken up alone for the first time in four months. A clammy sort of dissatisfaction had settled in her chest, but she had pushed out of bed and showered it away. Now, she stood in the grocery at 9 in the morning, buying things like olive oil and Worcestershire sauce. Presently, the selection of cooking utensils had caught her attention, and she mused over what in the hell they each were for. Hearing a ring, she frowned and reached into her back pocket for her work phone.

“Lexa Woods,”

“Er, Lexa?”

“Clarke! I’m at the grocery. What was that one thing that was a bowl but with holes? Coriander?”

Lexa bent to inspect a metal hammer but with spikes, when she heard odd sounds filter through the phone’s background.

“A-actually, this is Clarke’s sister,”

Lexa immediately straightened, “Oh. I’m sorry,” she furrowed her brow, thinking quickly, “Is everything alright? Is Clarke okay?”

“Er, Clarke’s fine, I think, but she’s actually throwing up in Ambassador's bathroom,” Lexa froze, “She got really dizzy all of a sudden and told me to call you. I’m not sure why, she was pretty out of it, but she kept asking for you,”

“I’ll be right there,”

“I don’t think you need to rush,” the voice was just like Clarke’s over the phone, but listening hard, Lexa found that it was just a bit softer, “I think she’s – oh, no, never mind. I think I’m going to have Octavia take her home,”

Lexa nodded slowly, her mind working over time, “Right. I’ll come visit then, just to see if she needs anything,”

“Sure, I just thought I’d call,”

“I appreciate it,”

Clarke’s sister gave an affirming hum and said goodbye. Lexa let the screen of her phone go black, forest green eyes staring at a turkey baster. Clarke had suddenly vomited? Was it morning sickness? She hadn’t missed a period, she would have told Lexa. Still, Lexa read online that morning sickness could start as early as 4 weeks.

She lowered the phone, mechanically walking toward the feminine hygiene isle. Lexa found herself staring at the home pregnancy tests with even more confusion than the kitchen utensils. Vaguely, she noted a stock boy must have had a laugh, putting the pregnancy kits next to the condoms.

As was apparently her wont, she wound up buying all seven tests. She threw the kits into her basket and practically ran to the check out. On the way, she passed the baby isle and her head spun.

Her long legs got her there quickly, but there was no hurrying the 20-somethings girl behind the counter. Lexa saw her check her lithe frame out, and any other day she might have looked back, but it didn’t even enter her realm of possibility. Especially when the girl flushed, scanning the at home kits.

Lexa didn’t know why; it just bubbled in her stomach. She gave an awkward laugh to the cashier and glided out, “They’re for my wife,”

The girl’s eyes went a little wide before she smiled, “Are you trying?”

Her heart thudded, “Yes, we are,”

“Well, good luck!”

“Thank you,”

Lexa paid and exited the store. She shoved the goods in the trunk of her car and sped toward Clarke’s apartment, her Porsche Boxster taking her from 0-60 in 5.5 seconds. But the muscularly sleek car was slow compared to her thoughts.

‘What if Clarke is pregnant? Will she not see me any more now that I’ve fulfilled my purpose? What will she do? Obviously, raise the child herself, but what about during her pregnancy. She’s a very capable woman, but still. It will be my child inside of her, inconveniencing her.’

She shook her head, blonde curls bouncing.

‘Wake up, Lexa. You’re just worried you won’t get to sleep with her anymore. Right? Well, maybe you’ll miss the closeness you’ve grown with Clarke? She is wonderful… ly fun to be around. Think of her. Even pregnant, she’ll need a hand. So help her. Friends do that.’

“Clarke?” Lexa called into the apartment, the door left unlocked, “Clarke?” She walked through the living room/kitchen, setting her groceries on the counter. Her jean-clad legs carried her into the bedroom and she heard retching from the bathroom. She pushed the door open and immediately went to Clarke’s side, taking her hair away from her face and cooing soothingly at the distressed woman clutching the toilet bowl.

Lexa’s wide green eyes softened and she rubbed circles on Clarke’s back. After a few moments, Clarke panted, spitting the acid inside of her mouth into the bowl and flushing the toilet.

“That’s disgusting,” she said evenly. Lexa helped her stand and waited with twitching hands for the smaller woman to brush her teeth. When she had lain in her bed, Lexa sat next to her.

“Clarke, are you pregnant?”

The golden hair tumbled off her pale features as she shook her head, “I took a test four days ago and it read negative,”

Lexa bit her lip, “Well, I bought you a couple just in case. Would you like to take another?”

Clarke’s eyes lit up and she smiled, sitting up and nodding, making grabby hands. Lexa laughed and went to fetch the plastic bag, “Jesus, Lexa. A couple?” The woman shot her a bashful look, and Clarke raised a pitying eyebrow at her, “You panicked, didn’t you?”

Lexa pursed her lips, rolling her eyes, “Hey, why don’t you make yourself useful and pee on that stick, hm?”

Clarke chuckled and escaped to the bathroom. A moment later, she reemerged and heaved a sigh, “And now we wait,”

“For how long?”

“Fifteen minutes,”

“Fifteen?” Lexa frowned, “That’s rather a long time, don’t you think? With modern medicine as advanced as it is, you’d think-“

“Lexa,” Clarke was smiling at her wryly, and the taller woman breathed.

“What?”

The blonde smiled uncontrollably, her perfectly white teeth on full display and shook her head, “Nothing. I’m gonna go make tea. You want some?”

“Please,”

“Right. Mind the clock, will you?” And she walked off, handing Lexa a re-wrapped plastic wand.

Approximately 14.55 seconds later, the women were seated on the edge of the bed, and Clarke removed the cover of the test, the two of them staring at the results.

Lexa’s heart gave the tiniest sigh of relief. Negative. Clarke, however, continued to stare at it. She shook it a little, but the single blue line remained.

“Well, there you are,” she murmured, smiling smally at Lexa, “False alarm. Probably just ate something,”

The brunette woman frowned ever so slightly in concern, watching Clarke’s grip on her own knee get tighter and tighter, her head down, until Lexa heard the softest of sobs. Instantly, she had guided Clarke into her lap and held her.

“It’s got to be me,” the woman cried, her heart dropped through her stomach and seizing painfully, “The sperm won’t take, it’s too late, isn’t it? Does my baby not want me?” she choked, and Lexa felt her throat tighten, “There’s something wrong with my eggs. I- I don’t understand.”

Lexa’s neck grew wet, and she felt her eyes mist, “No, no, Clarke,” her voice was thick with emotion and she buried her nose in Clarke’s beautiful hair, “It’s probably me. I’m so sorry, it’s got to be my fault. I’m sorry. I promised you a baby, and I swear you’ll have one. Don’t cry,”

She shushed the other woman and pulled her back onto the bed to lay Clarke’s struggling form on her chest. After a few deep sobs, Clarke fell quiet, sniffling occasionally. When she felt it was safe, Lexa pulled her so they could make eye contact,

“I’ll schedule us an appointment at a fertility clinic tomorrow and get us both checked out, alright?” Clarke opened her mouth to protest, but Lexa glared at her softly and cut her off, “Please? Just let me?”

The light-haired woman looked incredibly conflicted, but the genuine request in those burning green eyes forced her to swallow and nod. The smile she received as a reward made her body warm.

Lexa laid her head back against the pillows and breathed deeply, closing her eyes. Without opening them, she aired lightly, “I bought a coriander,”

She felt Clarke’s body slowly relax before her rasping answer, “What for?”

“So I can drain pasta,”

Clarke snorted against her chest, “You mean you bought a colander?”

“Huh, so that’s what that is. No wonder the spelling didn’t make sense for me,”

The smaller woman smiled, “And to think you studied all those years, only to be stumped by a bottomless bowl,”

“I’m ashamed, I really am,”

“So what’d you buy a colander for?”

“So that you can drain my pasta,”

The smaller woman laughed, “I see how it is. And why does that sound dirty?”

“Clarke,” Lexa playfully teased, “Get your head out of the gutter,”

The other woman smiled, “It’s rude of you to try and evict my mind from its home,”

The two laid in peaceful chatter for a while, neither one knowing when Lexa started to lazily draw patters on Clarke’s lower back, skimming the skin between her shirt and pants. It was perfectly natural for the blonde-haired woman to lay a kiss to Lexa’s jaw when she felt it was appropriate.

“How long will your sister be in town?”

Clarke hummed, considering, “Well, Ontari's actually here to get married. My mother would kill her if she got married somewhere besides D.C.,” she chuckled, “and I think it’ll only be another day or two that she stays with me. Eventually, she’s going to have her presence requested by Queen Abby, on pain of death,”

“I see,” Lexa smiled, “Is her fiancée staying with your mother?”

“No, I think he's coming in a couple days,”

“Have you met your sister’s fiancée?”

Clarke nodded against her chest, her eyelashes tickling Lexa’s neck, “I have. Roan's a very nice guy, a bit quiet, but they’re cute together. Roan would give Ontari the moon if he could. Which reminds me, I have to set up her bachelorette party,”

“Oh?”

“She asked me to be her Maid of Honor,” she explained with a grimace.

“Are you having it at Ambassador's? That’s a little professional for a bachelorette party, Clarke,”

The woman shrugged, “Well, Ontari's getting married this month. Unless you know any club owners, that’s it,”

Lexa felt a slow, mischievous smile crawl across her face.

“Actually, as a matter of fact, I do,”

“Shit, Lexa! I forgot how much of a fucking champ you were at this!” Raven was shouting over the pound of music, even in the VIP room of Anya's club. Also, she had started drinking before everyone had arrived and was two shots deeper than anyone in the room, her wife included.

Lexa grinned wickedly, winking at the onyx-haired mother of 3.

“Another round?”

“Hell yeah!” she crowed, smiling back. She glanced around at her old group of friends, most of whom were sitting and chatting, sipping on a drink. It seemed like everything and nothing had changed. The same people, but with all the kinks worked out.

“Hey,” Raven slurred drunkenly, “if you open a tab, I’ll tell you a secret that I think you’ll be reeeeallly excited to hear.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” Raven smirked, her eyes flashing lucidly, “Did you know that Clarke was a stripper in college?”

Lexa’s jaw dropped, “You’re joking.”

“I was between jobs!”

Clarke had slid on Lexa’s other side, and Octavia took the seat next to Raven. The blonde-haired woman was glaring at Raven, her cheeks were flushed prettily with red, fueled by both embarrassment and alcohol. It was the first good look at her Lexa had gotten tonight, and the executive was nothing but pleased.

Skin tight, low riding jeans, a black tank top with a form fitting black jacket. She wore black heels, and Lexa approved. Her own outfit consisted of leggings, wedges, and a shimmering red blouse.

“You were between jobs for an entire year?” Raven taunted immaturely, and Clarke rolled her eyes, not rising to the bait. She looked to her other side to talk to her sister, almost the complete physical opposite of the woman, but with the same fire in her sister's eyes.

“Fucking punk. Oi,” Raven had leaned toward Lexa and whispered into her ear, “It’s never worked for me, but I think you might be able to pull it off. Clarke’s a sloppy drunk with tequila. Get her on one of those poles downstairs and ask real nice,” She leaned back, smiling menacingly, and flickered her eyes to the unsuspecting woman, “You’ll see,”

Lexa was already way ahead of the redhead. Clarke? Stripping? She suddenly stood, and called Anya over.

“How does everyone feel about shots?” she called with a wickedly sweet smile. Her green eyes found Clarke’s and they smiled at each other, both no doubt trying to get the upper hand on the other.

Thirty minutes later, Clarke was drunk.

Decently drunk. And Lexa was only moderately so, still in control enough to keep her eye on the prize. She had rounded up everyone to shove out of the VIP area to the ground floor, and they all scattered to find fresh drinks. Lexa kept her hand on Clarke, and guided her to where one of the raised pole stages were.

Anya had two of them, just for fun. Some women liked to get drunk and brave, as was the case with the woman currently dancing around the pole, giggling. She wasn’t really doing anything, but Lexa cast a lidded eye over the show and smiled hungrily.

Clarke noticed and turned, her drunken inhibitions cleared away. She saw Lexa practically drooling, and she scowled, pulling the taller woman’s face to look at her.

“What?” Lexa pouted, her eyes once more looking to the laughing woman on the pole. She and her friends were just messing around, but Clarke didn’t know that.

“Stop it,” the smaller woman growled possessively.

“Stop what?” Lexa replied innocently.

“You’re staring at that – that wannabe!”

“Wannabe?”

“Yeah!” Clarke cheered, tipping slightly. Lexa smirked, and descended next to the woman’s mouth, whispering.

“You think you can do better?”

Clarke smirked languidly, and she gave a cocky roll of her eyes.

“Easily,”

Lexa smirked.

“Prove it,”

And then she shoved Clarke toward the small staircase that led up the pole’s stage, and even seeing Clarke grip the stripper’s pole and glare at the woman on it was enough to make Lexa’s penis throb and start to harden.

Discreetly, she tried to arrange her erection up against her stomach. The music changed, and a new song started. Clarke took that as her cue. It was dramatic. Like a flipped switch, the full-bodied blonde-haired woman was all strutting legs and swaying hips, and Lexa grinned broadly.

Until Clarke began to dance in earnest.

She unzipped her jacket slowly, her back sliding down the pole, and the leather gripped it, practically taking it from her body by itself. Relieved of it, Clarke circled the pole and jumped with momentum. She swung, her body twisting and riding it, and Lexa felt her mouth dry out. She was instantly hard.

Clarke was stripping.

Her tank top was peeled off as her ass ground against the pole, and in a flash of golden hair and flat abdominals, she was upright once more. People had gathered around her and were whistling and cheering. Clarke seemed to think they were adorable, as she smiled at them all, lust in her eyes.

Sweat reflected the club lights off of her slender limbs, and Lexa could only watch as her body reacted in unadulterated want. All she wanted to do was go up to that stage and have Clarke ride her like she was riding that pole. Her erection throbbed, and the compression shorts she wore were her only savior.

Clarke gyrated aggressively, rhythmically, her hands feeling herself up as she bit her lip, and they teasingly made their way to her own pants. Lexa could only take so much. She was only human, after all. But Clarke seemed to be lost in her dance, as she unbuttoned her jeans, and pulled the zipper down. A highlighter pink thong shone through the triangle of unzipped jean, and Lexa briefly considered stealthily rubbing one out in the bathroom. She had been inside the woman countless times and ways, and was still this turned on. She needed to be inside Clarke again, or she would lose her mind. Probably because Clarke had an ass like a 20 year old gymnast. Maybe she was just drunk and horny.

The waistbands of Clarke’s thong were sexily pulled up and run under by Clarke’s thumbs, before she dropped and ground back up the pole, clothed in nothing but her bra, jeans, and heels. Lexa’s wanton lust was scorching her body, and she shivered, hard as granite.

Before she knew it, Lexa had marched up the stairs and yanked the woman down. She made it to the floor before Clarke did, and the relapsed stripper was grinning. The crowd started to boo Lexa, but she really didn’t care.

Deciding quickly, she yanked the captured arm again, and threw Clarke over a shoulder, carrying her away. The crowd seemed to think this was an acceptable alternative and burst into horny cheers. Lexa nearly slipped on a dollar bill someone had thrown onto the stage.

She didn’t know where she was going, but the first locking door she came to, she opened it, shut it, and turned the lock so quickly she might have broken the key off on the other side. It was some kind of supply closet. There was a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling, and she smiled grimly. She set Clarke down.

“Take your pants off and bend over,” she snarled, working frantically at her own leggings. Clarke smirked, and it only further frustrated her. Lexa was going to make this woman come. Right now.

Clarke wordlessly stripped off her jeans and underwear, throwing them away, bra still on, her eyes alight and lustful. Lexa moaned as her dick was released from its confinement, and she stripped her shirt off.

The shorter woman crossed the distance between them at a quick pace and jumped, not unlike her mount to the pole she had just been on. But Lexa caught her, and their mouths clashed in teeth, tongues, and teases. Lexa tossed her in the air for Clarke to readjust, and the woman wrapped her legs around Lexa, her wetness rubbing over Lexa’s dick. They both moaned. Clarke’s back collided with the side of a tall cabinet, and she hissed at the cold metal.

Without wasting any time, Lexa found her entrance and slid inside the woman. They both shuddered. That sheer, velvet heat Lexa was growing addicted to enveloped her cock, and Clarke was so wet and hot. Every time, she was tight, and Lexa moaned, bucking without thinking. Clarke whined, burying her face in Lexa’s shoulder. The taller woman angled her hips, but couldn’t penetrate too deeply. She tried to compensate by going for strength, but wound up pushing Clarke against the cabinet too hard.

The woman yelped and clutched at Lexa while the cabinet behind her fell with a boom. But Lexa was on a mission. She vaguely heard a couple other loud sounds, but was focused on how Clarke was climbing onto a stool, a knee and both her hands on top. Her foot was planted on the ground, and she threw a challenging smirk over her shoulder at Lexa.

“Come here,” she growled.

Lexa was already thrusting inside of her and God did it feel good. The smaller woman started squirming and she came with many whines and moans. Lexa pulled out of her and knocked the stool behind her, lying on the cold concrete floor. It actually felt good against her sweating back, and she pulled Clarke on top of her.

The woman needed no prompting, and started riding her like a cowboy’s last rodeo. She rose and fell on Lexa’s dick like she was being paid to do it, and she all of a sudden shivered from top to toe and cried out, coming again. Lexa quickly held her thighs on the upstroke and braced her shoulders and feet on the ground.

Her upward thrusts were perfect, and she bit her lip, so close to her own orgasm. Clarke fell forward in pleasured shock, and Lexa grunted as she felt Clarke come for the third time. Her will power was made of absolute steel. She wouldn’t last much longer, though.

So when Clarke took it on herself to dismount Lexa’s throbbing and wet dick, Lexa growled her displeasure. She was desperate. But Clarke instantly turned and planted herself on her hands and knees, lowering her heaving chest to the ground, Lexa nearly came.

Doggy style.

Lexa felt Clarke practically suck her length in, she was so wet. She pistoned in and out of Clarke at her most favored fast pace, and the wet squelching of their fluids only furthered the appeal of screwing in a supply closet along to the muted tune of club music.

She reared a hand back and spanked Clarke’s perfect ass, gripping her hips firmly. Clarke yelped and moaned on the floor. They usually spoke during sex, laughed and teased some, but this was different. This was desperate, needy, fucking, and Lexa loved it.

Without a word of warning, Lexa felt her balls tighten and she came inside of Clarke’s wonderfully warm womb. Clarke felt Lexa stiffen against her, and her insides grew hot. She knew Lexa had just ejaculated inside of her, and she came swiftly and suddenly at the knowledge.

Thanking God in heaven, the smaller woman felt Lexa’s cock soften slightly, and she collapsed onto her front, breathing heavily, all of a sudden extremely tired. Lexa rolled onto the ground on her back, and threw an arm over her eyes. The women panted like animals, most likely due to the fact that they had just fucked like them.

After their breathing had settled, Clarke rolled to kiss Lexa sloppily, and the brunette was happy to return the gesture.

“Anya's gonna kill us,” Clarke said nonchalantly, surveying the room. Lexa laughed, her eyes hazily taking in the toppled over furniture and upended supplies. She spied the cheap desk in the corner and pulled Clarke’s face to hers, growling sultrily.

“Hey, Clarke, want to bet I can fuck you through that desk?”

Her listless blue eyes sharpened and she felt Lexa’s dick harden against her thigh. Clarke chuckled deeply, kissing her and rolling.

"Alright, I'm off," Lexa said, trying to simultaneously drink coffee and button her shirt as she walked. 

Clarke hummed and went to fix the woman's suit, "Right, well, try not to fillet Jason. You'll get blood on your shirt,"

Lexa laughed swallowing her coffee with puffed cheeks, "I'd never do that. This is the shirt you bought me for my birthday. I'd hire a hitman. Obviously," while Clarke laughed, she downed her coffee and set it on the kitchen counter next to the sink on her way to fetch her brief case.

"I'm going to kill you," Clarke said loudly, staring at the cup. 

Lexa reappeared briefly to look at what Clarke was talking about 

"Eight inches more, and it's in the sink!" the blonde admonished pleadingly.

The brunette grinned and stepped to kiss the huffing woman. 

"If you want eight more inches, you'll have to wait until tonight," she winked, and disappeared before Clarke had finished laughing. 

“So I told him that if he brought me another rancid shipment, I’d find a new dairy supplier,”

Lexa switched ears, looking the other way to turn right, “What a fearsome sight you most likely made. Are you wearing your scary heels?”

“No. Those are only for when I feel like shoving one up your ass,” Clarke’s voice dried, “Which you completely deserve for not listening to my story,”

“I am listening,” she said distractedly, pulling her Porsche smoothly into a parking spot.

“You could sell me a used car, that was so convincing,”

Lexa laughed and pushed the car door open, shutting it and locking the vehicle, “Why you’d ever buy a used car is beyond me. You should have enough money to put even me in the poor house,”

“You know I wind up just dumping it back into Ambassador's,” Clarke’s voice shrugged, “And it’s not like I have anything to spend it on. But I have been thinking of buying a house,”

“A house?” Lexa repeated, making her way into the entrance of the beautiful building.

“Mhm,” Clarke replied, “Once I’m actually pregnant,”

And there was that soft tone Lexa liked to listen to. It was a tone that she identified with Clarke and the baby. It was… Maternal. Strong, but wistful and warm. Lexa waved a greeting to the hostess, who pointed in a direction.

“Well, I’m working on that,” Lexa muttered, her heels clacking on marble flooring, expensive slacks swishing around her ankles. She opened a door and leaned in, frowning as she inhaled. She heard Clarke laugh.

“And so hard, too,” Clarke taunted over the line, “But you still weren’t listening to my story!”

“Of course I was,” Lexa picked an object up, “And I think you’re being ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with this milk,”

“What? How do you – wait, are you here?”

Lexa laughed as the line clicked, and she put her phone away. Really, the milk wasn’t off at all. Soon, she saw Clarke garbed in her chef coat and pants, hair in a messy bun.

Adorable.

“Hey! Here, for dinner?”

Lexa shook her head, “We’re going to that new Bistro you’ve been talking about on 7th,” She shut the fridge and almost slipped in some liquid a cook had spilled on the ground in the kitchen.

“Oh really?” The shorter woman grinned and started to remove her coat, walking toward the back office.

“Mhm,” Lexa hummed her confirmation, “Harper was telling me about her dinner there the other weekend, and said she had a Grilled Bourbon Salmon that was better than Ambassador's Honey Mead Salmon,”

Clarke paused, her expressive blue eyes narrowing, “Come on, I’ll leave my car here. You’re ready to go?”

Lexa smiled, “Apparently,” She lead the way out of the restaurant and back to her car, and she swore she heard Clarke’s soft growl say something that sounded like, ‘traitor.’

“Don’t you dare,” Lexa glared up at Clarke, panting. The woman’s breasts were shifting and bouncing as she rolled her hips on top of Lexa’s cock inside of her.

“That’s the fourth time,” Clarke gasped, bracing her hands flat on Lexa’s tensed abdomen for balance, letting her thighs pull her off the length and then fall back down fluidly. Lexa wanted so badly to roll them over and have her way with the woman, but Clarke was in one of her dominant moods. While it turned her on like nothing else, it also drove Lexa up a wall.

Lexa was filling Clarke so nicely, and her insides were clenching at the fullness. She was sweating and heaving on top of the brunette, eyes closed and head tossed back. The sound of skin slapping on skin sounded through Lexa’s bedroom, and the bottom woman was thrusting up every time Clarke sunk down.

Then, the rude pierce of Clarke’s cellphone vibrating on the wooden nightstand split the room, and Clarke groaned. She was so close. But she had to answer it. It might be the restaurant.

“Clarke, I swear to God-“

“Hello?”

Lexa growled and blew air out of her mouth in distain. She was already so pressurized. Her cock throbbed inside the velvet heat of Clarke, and she had only been resisting so far as to let Clarke orgasm first.

“Clarke? Where the fuck have you been?”

“Anya?”

Hearing her best friend’s name, Lexa threw all reason out the window. She sat up and latched her mouth onto Clarke’s neck, wrapped her arms under Clarke's thighs, and pumped her hips up and into the woman sitting on her cock. Clarke bit her lip to keep from moaning. Oh, she was going to kill Lexa. After this call. And after she came. Obviously.

“Seriously, I’ve been calling for 10 minutes! And – wait – why are you breathing so hard?”

“I-I’m running,” Clarke panted, shutting her eyes as Lexa kept thrusting into her, the head of her dick rubbing over the ridge inside her that was almost an instant orgasm. She gripped Lexa’s shoulder and helped bounce on the throbbing dick.

“Is Lexa with you? She’s not picking up,”

“Uh, I think she’s,” Clarke bit her lip. Hard. Lexa had pushed Clarke’s shoulders back, and the angle change was intense as Lexa bottomed out, “uh, at her apartment,”

“Could you stop running? Jesus,” Anya's voice silkened out, “Well when you see her, since you’re always over there, could you tell her I called? Like a hundred times?”

Lexa was fucking her in earnest now, and she put her lips in Clarke’s hair, “I’m going to come inside of you, and I’d rather not do it with Anya Forrester listening,” she bit the sensitive ear she was whispering into, and Clarke whined.

“Anyways, Clarke, I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you-” Anya blathered on, and Clarke put everything she had into stifling a moan before cutting the club owner off.

“Anya, can you hold on?”

Not waiting for an answer, Clarke threw the phone to the other side of the bed and pushed Lexa down, bouncing up and down on the hot and hard length inside of her.

“God, Lexa, I’m close,” she panted, her voice unusually high, “Just hold on,”

“Clarke,” Lexa complained, her toes curling as she watched the breasts above her bounce, "My foot is cramping," 

"Hold on, hold on, hold on," Clarke chanted, chasing her well-earned orgasm, “Ah, fuck- Lexa!”

Clarke’s insides clamped down hard on Lexa’s dick, and she tossed her head, honey locks flying as she came. Lexa curled her hips in the air, getting as deep as possible into the woman before she came hotly in one, two, three strokes.

Clarke collapsed on top of Lexa, panting and sweating. Her mouth curled, and she kissed Lexa soundly when the woman turned her head. Blindly, Lexa searched the sheets for the phone and put it to her ear when she found it.

“Hello?” she rasped out, breaking from the wonderful lips. Clarke rolled off of her to pant on her back.

“Lexa? Wait, I thought Clarke – oh my god. No. No,” the horror in the woman’s voice was evident, “Please God tell me those sounds weren’t what I think they were. Lexa?”

“Is anyone dead, Anya?”

“What? No? I can’t believe –“

“Good night, Anya,”

The wide eyes stared at her phone as the line went dead.

“You’re sure you’re not pregnant?”

Octavia was biting her lip, watching Clarke rinse her mouth out for the third time in the staff bathroom.

“Positive,” the woman sighed, “Lexa’s practically bought out the store of pregnancy tests. It doesn’t help that I’ve never had a regular period, but… I think it might just be my body wanting to be pregnant. I have no idea.”

“You’ve been doing this for a week, Clarke.”

“I know, I know,” she grimaced, “But I took the tests, Octavia,”

“Maybe you should go in to the doctor and have them see what’s up?” her voice was edged in nervousness, “Because right now, you look just like Raven did when she was first pregnant with Cece,”

“I’m not pregnant, Octavia,” Clarke stressed, and Octavia’s face hardened.

“Fine, but you’re not going back to work,”

“That’s ridiculous,” Clarke scoffed, “Even if I were pregnant, I’d still go back to work,”

The dark-haired woman grimaced, “Yeah, I realize that, but you’re not going to today because Lexa’s going to be here any minute,”

“You called Lexa?!” Clarke shouted, and Octavia flinched but straightened fiercely.

“Yes! Now stop whining about it and just go with her,” she huffed and crossed her arms, “You don’t listen to me, so maybe she can knock some sense into you,”

Clarke sighed deeply, “Aren’t you trying to have a fourth child? That’s way too many kids to still have room to mother me,”

“Clarke?”

“Jesus…”

Lexa glared at the blonde-haired woman fiercely before thanking Octavia for calling her, “I’m glad she listens to you, at least,”

To which Octavia laughed but only nodded.

“Clarke, please get in the car,”

“Oh for God’s sake,” the woman threw her hands up and stomped out of the bathroom, leaving Octavia and Lexa to jointly roll their eyes at her adult-sized fit. When Lexa exited the building, Clarke was leaning against Lexa’s German sports car.

While Lexa drove to the doctor’s office, Clarke chided her about leaving work to come pick her up, “And what in the hell is wrong with Octavia?” She wondered, feeling slighted, “Calling you, and then you actually showing up,”

“She was concerned, Clarke,” Lexa explained, almost to the hospital, “I’m concerned, too,”

“What if I didn’t get in the car? Were you going to call my mother?” Clarke grumbled.

Lexa breathed through her nose, “No, but your sister was a close second choice,”

The blue-eyed woman shot her a questioning glare, “You wouldn’t,”

“I’m glad you got in the car and we didn’t have to find out,” Lexa smirked. Clarke found enough grace to actually laugh, and the two made their way inside the doctor’s office.

“Hi, Ms. Griffin, I’m Dr. Jackson, how’re you feeling?”

Dr. Jackson was a medium-sized woman with kind eyes and short, dark brown hair. Clarke trusted her immediately.

“Well, I’m actually fine, I’ve just been experiencing some... odd symptoms for a week or so,”

“Okay,” the doctor flipped open a folder and sat at a rolling stool, preparing to take notes. Her attention finally diverted to Lexa, who was seated on an observation chair. She looked to Clarke on the exam table and back to Lexa, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there. Ms. Griffin, is it alright if your... guest, hears some of your health information?”

The woman waved a hand, “It’s perfectly fine. This is Lexa Woods, she’s… uhm-“ An odd pause made Jackson lift a brow slightly. Lexa felt her throat constrict, and Clarke’s stomach turned over, “My friend,”

“Alright then,” Dr. Jackson continued, her many years of professional experience telling her not to ask. She then refocused on Clarke, “So what symptoms are causing you trouble?”

“Well, I’ve been trying for six, well, almost seven, months to get pregnant,” she stated, and Lexa’s intelligent green eyes captures every movement she made in silent observance, “And while I’ve been taking at-home pregnancy tests, I’m still experiencing some symptoms of pregnancy,”

“I take it those tests are showing up negative?” the doctor asked, writing. Clarke nodded, “And what kind of symptoms?”

“I’ve been vomiting everyday with some regularity, and the smell of dairy makes me nauseous. I own a restaurant, and even the kitchen smells different. For example, there’s a metallic sort of smell to it that my other cooks don’t detect,”

The woman straightened her back, thinking, “and I’ve been more fatigued than I have been in a while,” she offered, trying to notice any other changes in her behavior.

“She’s been urinating more frequently, and her breasts are incredibly tender,” Lexa supplied gracefully, a leg crossed over the other. She was the picture of business casual, and Clarke briefly mused if this was how she looked in meetings at work.

“Oh?” The doctor interestedly looked from Lexa to Clarke, and the latter felt her cheeks grow warm.

“A-actually, yes,” she replied, watching her doctor scribble that down.

“And how long have you wanted a baby, Ms. Griffin?”

“About three years now,”

“Okay. And are you using IVF, a donation, or sexual intercourse to conceive?”

“Intercourse,”

"And you're single?"

"Yes,"

“Have you been tested for fertility?”

“I have, and I’m clear. I was told that because I’m 33, it isn’t a concern that it’s taking a while to conceive,”

“It isn’t. Has the donor been checked for sperm count?”

“Yes,” Clarke replied, the cold label of ‘the donor’ putting a frost in Clarke’s breast, “I believe the count was toward the higher end of average,”

"Okay, and have you been using multiple donors throughout the process?"

Lexa's eyes flashed at the doctor, and Clarke panned a smile at the woman calmly.

"No, just the one,"

“And have you ever used any form of contraceptive?”

“In college, yes. I was on birth control. But I haven't used a condom in...” she reflexively sent a trailing look towards Lexa, who was also counting in her head. 

"Six months, two weeks," she supplied. Jackson gracefully schooled her features. 

“Alright, Ms. Griffin, if you could lay on the table for me, I’m just going to do a quick physical exam,”

Clarke complied, and the doctor pulled the woman’s silk blouse out of her slacks to tap and listen to her heart, stomach, and lungs with her stethoscope. Clearing everything, she bade Clarke re-arrange herself.

“Wonderful,” the doctor made a few last notes and looked up to the woman, “I’m sure you know, but the body is an amazing thing. It’s possible that these are all phantom symptoms caused by the brain subconsciously, which are right on the money for pregnancy. Still, we’ll run a blood test just to be safe. It shouldn’t take more than an hour to get the results. Sound good?”

Clarke nodded, “Perfect,”

“Alright then” Dr. Jackson stood, “Well, I’ll see you in an hour. I’ll have a nurse come in to draw blood,”

“Thank you,”

“My pleasure,”

The heavy door opened and shut, and the windowless exam room was silent. Until Lexa cocked an eyebrow, “your friend?” she repeated, not being able to identify why she objected to the label. All she knew was that it didn’t feel good.

“Well that’s what you are, right?”

Lexa kept her face perfectly neutral, “Well, it appears I have been demoted to ‘the donor’, now.

“Oh, Lexa, come on-“

The door opened, and a young nurse entered, a tray of vials and labels in her hands.

“Hi, I’m Kara,” she cheered, smiling, “Would you mind rolling your sleeve up for me please, Ms. Griffin?”

Lexa’s work phone rang out in the stillness, and Clarke watched the woman curse tightly, reading her called ID. Her green eyes wondered at Clarke in a silent question, and the woman nodded indulgently and made a gentle shooing motion.

“Lexa Woods,” the tall woman answered and exited the exam room, her office once again sucking away at her soul. At her exit, Clarke was left with the nurse, who took it upon herself to smile at Clarke kindly and offer,

“You both make a beautiful couple,”

Clarke’s heart skipped a beat in her chest, and her blue eyes peered into the innocent nurse’s.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. The nurse nodded, finishing her work diligently and leaving the room. Clarke absently rolled her sleeve down. What was going on with today? She reached for her cellphone and dialed a familiar number.

A few rings.

“Hello?”

“Raven, is Octavia home?”

“Uh, yeah, I think she’s feeding Zoe, one sec,”

Clarke nodded, knowing just how much of a circus the Blake household was sometimes. She gave a short, jealous smile. Octavia had it made, she really did.

“Clarke?”

The woman snapped her attention back to the present, “Octavia? Hey, how’s it going?”

“Hi! It’s fine, I was just putting Cece down for a nap. How are you feeling? Did you go to the doctor’s?”

“I’m still here, actually. Waiting on some blood work,”

“Oh good, is Lexa there?”

“Yeah, but she stepped out…” Clarke trailed off, trying to think and talk at the same time.

“What’s wrong?” Even over the phone, Octavia could tell there was something on her best friend’s mind. When they were in college, Octavia had been the first person to notice Clarke’s facade of carefree nonchalance, and try to help her. Many years, and lots of practice later, Clarke was a much more open person.

“It’s nothing to do with having a baby, if that’s what you’re wondering,” she reassured, “But… It’s Lexa,” she bit her lip, “I- I just can’t shake the feeling that something about this isn’t normal,”

Octavia laughed shortly, and Clarke smiled, “Okay, none of it is actually normal, but in a larger way. Just now, the doctor asked me if my ‘donor’ was healthy, and it just… hurt. I don’t know why, and then Lexa made a comment about it when the doctor left and she seemed… not okay with it too,”

The line was quiet and Octavia responded, “I think it was going to be messy from the start, Clarke. Especially because you picked Lexa Woods,”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for one, she’s from an incredibly proper background, right? And this is Raven’s theory, keep in mind, but there might be some merit in it. I think Lexa is a kind, wonderful person. And those things, together, I don’t think it’s far fetched to say she might someday ask to be a little bit involved in your life,”

“Involved?” Clarke repeated, slightly stunned, her heart starting a wild rhythm at the thought.

“Mhm, especially when I think about how you two are around each other, Clarke. You told me when you had this idea that it would be more of a business deal. Well, I’m just saying but, you’re my business partner and I don’t spoon you and bring you chocolates during shark week, you know? I do that for my wife,”

Clarke bit her lip, knowing the truth in Octavia’s words, “I know,” she said quietly, looking at a chart on the wall, “I recognize that half of my clothes are in Lexa’s washing machine, with another quarter actually in her closet. I mean, Niylah and I dated for a year and I never left more than a toothbrush at her place,” she sighed, “I don’t know what’s going on, but this is the most serious relationship of my adult life, and it’s not even real,”

“Don’t say that. It’s very real… But, Clarke,” Octavia spoke softly over the phone, “What exactly do you want?”

The woman swallowed, “A baby,”

Octavia laughed, and Lexa opened the door, stepping back in, “I mean, what do you want from Lexa?”

Clarke flicked her eyes to where Lexa was saying her goodbyes, “Hey, I’ve got to go. We’ll talk later alright?”

“Is Lexa there?”

“Yeah,”

“Okay,” Octavia laughed, “Take care, and call me after. Bye,”

“Bye,”

Clarke hung up and looked at Lexa, who was smiling lightly, “What’s good?” the woman on the table inquired.

“Nothing big,” she said slyly, “But I think I might have found you a house,”

Clarke cocked her head, “I didn’t even know you were looking for me. Is it nice?”

Lexa gave her a faux-hurt look, “Ms. Griffin, I Ark12 is a Fortune 500 Company. We do not deal in properties that aren’t ‘nice’,”

The blue-eyed woman smiled wholly, calling Lexa an elitist and asking about the house. The women started speaking easily, like any other day, and the time flew. Before they knew it, a knock sounded on the door, and Dr. Jackson pushed her way in.

“Hey, hope you haven’t been waiting long,” she said lightly, smiling gently, and Clarke shook her head in patient grace, “Well, your results are in, and I’m glad to say that you’re perfectly healthy,”

Clarke smiling smugly at Lexa.

“and congratulations, you’re pregnant,”

Her blue eyes blew wide and she snapped her head back to Dr. Jackson's earnest eyes.

“What?” she breathed, her chest constricting, “What did you just say?”

“You’re undoubtedly pregnant, Ms. Griffin. From your tests, I’d say as far along as five weeks, in fact,”

Clarke was having trouble breathing, trouble thinking. Lexa was staring at Clarke, for some reason finding herself all of a sudden standing.

“But, the tests…” the still seated woman whispered.

“The tests showing negative could be from any number of causes; your urine is too diluted with other things, it’s the wrong time of day, anything that has to do with digestion, really. But blood doesn’t lie,” the woman was smiling, “You’ll need to schedule another appointment within the next 5-7 weeks for your first ultrasound,” she rose with a professional flourish, giving the woman some room.

“You can schedule that out front. Have a nice day and congratulations, Ms. Griffin,”

And then she left.

Clarke was stunned, and she immediately put a hand to her stomach. She stood and pulled her shirt up, as if expecting to find a distention on her flat abs. Her eyes clouded as she slowly pieced her mind together.

“I’m pregnant?” she whispered, and then whirled to face Lexa, “I’m pregnant,” her smiled overtook her face and her eyes burned with joy, her heart soaring. She threw herself into the taller woman’s body, “I’m pregnant!” She half cheered, half sobbed.

Lexa’s warmth enveloped her, and the sound of the taller woman’s heartbeat was pressed against her ear, rapid and thundering. The woman had yet to say anything, and Clarke pulled backwards, tears streaming down her face.

“Thank you, Lexa,” she bit her lip, but immediately continued to smile, “Thank you so much,”

Lexa felt like she was dreaming. Clarke was pregnant, finally, really pregnant. She had gotten Clarke pregnant. She, Lexa Woods, had conceived a child with this wonderful woman. She had conceived a child. Clarke’s child.

“C-Clarke,” she smiled, “Congratulations, Clarke,” she felt her eyes tear up as well, but the tightness in her chest didn’t know what emotion it was from, “You’re going to be a wonderful mother,”

Clarke’s smile was beautiful, “Thank you,” she was flushed with pride and love for her newly discovered baby. She hadn’t removed her hand from her stomach the entire time, “Alright,” she breathed deeply, the air feeling cleaner somehow, “Let’s get going, shall we?”

Lexa nodded numbly, her brilliant mind Dial-Up slow. She vaguely took note that Clarke was so, so happy, and the date that her ultrasound was on. It wasn’t until she was seated behind the wheel of her car did she feel clarity return to her.

“Dr. Jackson said I was five weeks along, so that was when, exactly? Ontari's wedding?”

Lexa found the date calculation calming for her mind to mess with the numbers, “No, that was four weeks ago. Five weeks ago was your last period, I believe,”

“That can’t be possible,” Clarke frowned, turning to Lexa in confusion. The woman turned the sports car over and backed out of the space, “We couldn’t have had sex on my period?”

Lexa paused, thinking hard, and then she remembered, “You got off of it the night before Ontari's party!”

“You’re right!” Clarke exclaimed, then frowned, “Wait. So you’re telling me that we made my baby at Anya's bar?”

Lexa’s heart twisted at the wording, but she laughed at the idea, “Well, I think it’s possible. The timing does add up,”

“I can’t believe this,” Clarke bemoaned, “After all that careful planning, and the painstaking effort I put into narrowing down a list of people, and then actually putting it into action, that I’m pregnant as a result of a drunken hook up in the supply closet of a club?!”

Lexa was full-out laughing, and Clarke leaned an elbow on the window ledge to put her face in her hand, but Lexa could see the curl of the woman’s lips. When the green-eyed driver had collected herself, she reviewed Clarke’s words, and frowned slightly.

“Wait, I never actually asked,” she started, and looked at Clarke in careful questioning as she pulled up to a red light, “Who else was on the list of possible candidates?”

Clarke looked back, tilting her head, contemplating the safety of the question. Not safe, her mind screamed at her, “Well, you were my number one choice, if that’s what you’re asking,”

“It is, a bit,” Lexa replied, tapping the steering wheel, “But who else?”

“Well," Clarke hesitated, hand drifting toward her stomach, "number two was, uh, actually, Bellamy Blake,”

“What?!” Lexa exploded, whipping her head to stare at the smaller woman, “You would have asked Bellamy to, to-“

“Lexa, the light is green,”

The woman gunned the gas, muttering, “I don’t see how that could have been a viable option,” she frowned, “Not only would it have been entirely inappropriate on Octavia’s behalf, but no doubt you would have contracted some kind of venereal disease, that man has slept with so many women,”

Clarke was smiling in amusement, watching Lexa frown and speak mostly to herself, “He never would have been as gentle with you as I was. Not to mention he has a horrible personality, and honestly, he’s conceited and arrogant. So full of himself,”

“Oh? And you’re saying you’re not full of yourself?” Clarke cut in, teasing and entertained. Lexa eyed the smirking woman and rolled her eyes, grinning a bit.

“I’m saying I can make you full of myself,”

Clarke laughed, “Didn’t you hear Dr. Jackson? You already did,” her voice was light, and Lexa smiled brilliantly.

“Mm, that is true. But I am a creature of habit, you know,” here, she winked, and Clarke laughed once more.

“Don’t I know it,” she smiled, then bit her lip, “But you don’t have to worry about that anymore,”

Lexa felt her smile slide off her face almost instantly, “Of course. Yes, you’re right,”

Clarke peered at Lexa, her features etched in concern. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what Lexa was thinking: didn’t know herself what was going on. All Clarke knew was that Lexa re-entered her life at her request to fulfill a single purpose. And now that purpose was realized, and her presence was no longer strictly required.

But Clarke knew that her heart still required the charming brunette woman. She had practically lived at Lexa’s apartment for six months, and going back to the life before, without Lexa in it, made her an aching mix of saddened and nervous. She had fallen asleep to Lexa’s steady breathing and woken up to her thick throated wish for her a good morning, and had grown used to it.

When Ontari had occupied her apartment for even those few days, Clarke had found the sheets a little too cold, the bed a little too big. Only a few nights, and Clarke had missed her.

“Hey, Lex,” Clarke started, her tone soft and nervous, “I don’t want you thinking that this means that we’re…” she searched, and didn’t miss the tightening of Lexa’s fingers on the steering wheel, “that I don’t want to be,” she bit her lip, and the air was thick with tension.

“Friends?” Lexa supplied softly, and Clarke sent a softly conflicted look to the brunette, who stared at the road.

“Yeah,” Clarke replied, her heart saying no.

“Thank you,” Lexa said politely.

The blonde-haired woman breathed in deeply. Well, that fixed absolutely nothing. But what else was there to say? To ask anything of Lexa right now would be… selfish.

So they drove in silence. When they neared Clarke’s apartment, her mind made quick steps forward.

“Are you hungry?” she offered Lexa lightly, and the woman sent a searching green look. Then, Lexa cracked a smile.

“Yeah. I’m starving. Lunch?”

Clarke, trying, smiled back, “Yeah. I’ve also been waiting to watch that new Disney movie with the emotions,”

Lexa laughed, “Don’t you think you’ll get your fill of Disney movies in the next couple years?”

“Psh. Not while we can make it a drinking game,” Clarke shrugged, then blanched, horrified, “Oh God, I can’t drink anymore!”

Lexa only laughed at her and pulled into the lot. When they entered Clarke’s apartment, she made a show of opening a beer from the fridge and sighing in pleasure after taking a long drink. The disgusted noise Clarke made was monumental, muttering something about poor tastes.

The two ate lunch and Lexa drove them to the theatre. After a day out, they picked up some Chinese take out and ate it at Lexa’s apartment, where the entertainment system was better.

Clarke fell asleep on the couch, and Lexa nudged her from her position behind her. They had developed a very specific seating arrangement for lying on Lexa’s couch, and it involved Clarke lying backwards against Lexa, between the woman’s legs, her head on Lexa’s shoulder, and the taller woman’s arms wrapped under Clarke’s. It had only taken them one unfortunate Italian night to figure out trying to eat like this wasn’t a good idea. Clarke had complained the entire time she washed the marinara out of her hair.

Lexa turned the television off and suppressed a smile. Clarke was the absolute worst morning and night person. She was either completely awake, or completely asleep, and for her, there should exist no in between.

Lexa patted the sleeping woman’s hip, “Clarke,” she hummed. She only received an exhalation in response, and she smiled, rolling her eyes. Then, she noticed where her hand was. Over Clarke’s stomach. Her throat dried out, and carefully, she moved her hands to lift the sleeping woman’s shirt.

Just like Clarke had in the doctor’s office, she didn’t quite know what she expected to see. But her mind tried to picture Clarke ballooned out and 38 weeks pregnant. It didn’t work very well. She was just so slender.

Keeping her breathing steady, Lexa extended her hands in tandem to set on Clarke’s lower stomach.

‘There is a baby in here’ she thought, absolutely amazed. Clarke held life inside her. She was now a home for a living, growing, thing. A beautiful thing. And that beautiful thing would grow and grow, and call Clarke Mom someday.

But that was a long time from now. A long time to grow into some beautiful child from the fragile little sprout under her hands. Would Clarke be alright? Would the baby? Who would be there to help her? To get food when she had cravings? To bend and lift when she was too pregnant to do it? She would be a single mother. Sometimes lonely, sometimes helpless. 

‘I could be there.’ Lexa thought. Her fingers stroked the warm skin, and she bit her lip, her eyes misting for a reason that escaped her. She had made a child. A baby. She had been a half that created a whole. 

She wanted to be there. For the sonogram, the first kicks, the cravings, the lifting, everything. But that wasn’t an option. That wasn’t what Clarke had asked her for.

Lexa swallowed hard, replacing Clarke’s shirt over her stomach and shaking the woman awake gently. Like a zombie, Clarke shoved herself upright off the couch and drug her feet toward the bedroom, leaving Lexa to pick the food containers up to throw out. It had been an emotionally tiring day, and Lexa really just wanted to lie in bed. A sentiment Clarke seemed to share.

Lexa walked into her bedroom, stripped to her boyshort underwear, and replaced her bra with a soft tshirt. She threw her clothes in a hamper and noticed Clarke had done the same, but the smaller woman had apparently woken herself enough to use the restroom.

Climbing under her silk sheets, Lexa sighed and relaxed against the pillows. The normalcy was so calming for her, and the only difference between tonight and any other was that Clarke wasn’t in bed yet.

She opened her eyes, feeling her dick twitch. It was almost Pavlovian; this was their pattern. They went to dinner, a concert, shopping, stayed in, whatever. They would have a nice time, come back to Lexa’s, and have sex. Then, they slept, woke up, went to work, and started again.

So when Clarke turned the light in the bathroom off, Lexa’s length was hardened and pulsing, bulging against her underwear. It was incredibly distracting, and her body was confused as to why Clarke had climbed in bed, but not crossed to Lexa yet, even if her brain knew why.

Similarly, Clarke knew this was the time she’d be kissing the gorgeous woman in bed with her, her hands wandering, stroking Lexa into firmer hardness. All right before Lexa gently pushed her length inside Clarke’s drenched entrance, connecting precisely and wonderfully. She was already incredibly wet, despite having no stimulus. Clarke heard Lexa roll over and sigh deeply.

The bedroom air was tense, and Clarke was suddenly wide awake. She listened as Lexa tossed and turned, and she finally rolled to look at Lexa’s profile.

“What’s wrong?” Clarke asked her, pulling the sheets under her arms and over her breasts.

“It’s nothing,” Lexa said gently, quickly.

“Really, what is it?”

“I’m hard, and it’s driving me crazy,” was the mild response, “It should go away on it’s own,”

Clarke winced in sympathy. Lexa had once described to her the painfully uncomfortable feeling of blue balls, and she had gained a whole new level of respect for the woman.

But she bit her lip and nodded, humming in sympathy. She so badly wanted to touch Lexa. To feel her warm skin slide across her own. But she couldn’t, not now. Clarke felt her heart sink, her mind wondering when the last time they had kissed had been. When she had last traced Lexa's jawline with her lips. If she had known it would be their last kiss, would she have done it differently?

She rolled, her back to Lexa, and shut her eyes.

‘Yes.’

“Lexa, stop it,” Clarke giggled, fighting the wandering hands playfully as she cooked. Her pregnant stomach forced her to stand away from the stove, but her cooking skills were still more than top-notch.

Lexa, for her part, sighed but accepted the kiss Clarke offered as a peace treaty. She stepped away and shrugged her coat on, eyeing Clarke’s curves as the woman moved about the kitchen.

“Clarke, I’m off now, darling,” she called, collecting her case.

“Oh, actually, Lexa, could you reach the coriander up there?” Clarke was straining slightly to reach the top shelf of the cabinet, “It’s too high for me,” she turned pleading blue eyes to Lexa, who simply tilted her head in confusion.

“No,” she gilded out, “You’re supposed to take care of yourself. I suppose I could watch, though?”

“Uhm, okay,” Clarke replied, unsure. That wasn’t like Lexa at all. But she shook it off and turned to the cabinet once again. The top shelf seemed to move further and further away as she reached for it. She strained, stretching, leaning against the counter on her toes.

Her teeth grit and she continued to struggle, breaking into a sweat. She braced a knee on the top of the counter, and heaved, one hand on her belly, the other still striving to skin the spice.

She finally broke, and jumped off her foot planted on the ground, and yes! – her fingertips brushed the bottle.

But then she felt her center of gravity shift. Too late, she realized it. She was going to fall. And she did. In slow motion, the kitchen tilted, and it was like Alice falling down the rabbit hole to Wonderland. She saw Lexa’s face, expressionless, watching.

And then she hit the floor, face first, stomach first, and she opened her mouth to scream for her baby. But the world turned upside down, and she was looking at her baby.

In a plastic safety tank, hooked up to wires and tubes, monitors attached to every surface of her too-small baby. She could just see enough to notice the shock of curling blonde hair. And she wanted to die.

Her body broke, but she felt strong arms catch her. She turned into that familiar chest and cried, leaning back to look into Lexa’s sad, sad eyes. Then, with some sort of somber obligation, Lexa took up one of Clarke’s hands and guided her to her right, to where Bellamy Blake stood in a tuxedo.

Clarke’s blue eyes were wide as she watched the tortured expression on Lexa’s face, and her emerald eyes were so, so, sad. Those perfect lips parted,

“We could have been in love,” she pleaded, but Clarke didn’t listen. She just saw those bleeding green eyes, and looked to her baby in the corner. Just as Bellamy tugged her hand to walk down the altar, she saw her baby’s eyes open.

And once more stared into fresh, liquid green eyes.

“Pity,” Bellamy said carelessly, looking on the baby in distain, “If only you hadn’t fallen,”

But Clarke looked to her own stomach, to find she was pregnant again, and still perched on the counter, and her center of gravity shifted one more time. And she screamed.

“CLARKE!”

Blazing, anxious green eyes poured into her soul as Clarke woke up. The air was cold, and she breathed heavily, Lexa’s warm, worried, weight anchoring her body to the present.

“Clarke, you were having a nightmare,” her silken voice was concerned and even in the darkness with just the moon to light the room, Clarke knew she was beautiful.

“Lexa?” Clarke choked out.

“I’m here,” she whispered back.

“Lexa, will you…” Clarke placed a hand around Lexa’s beautiful jaw, “I don’t want you to just be the donor,”

Lexa’s heart thudded, and caught up with her mouth, “I want to take care of you,” the woman rushed out, shifting to lay on top of Clarke, “You and the baby,”

Clarke was nodding, and she felt a smile flicker over her face. Lexa wouldn’t have said it if she didn’t mean it, “Thank you,” she whispered, her other hand coming up to trace Lexa’s lips.

“I just want to know you’re safe,” Lexa told the woman under her seriously.

“Okay,” Clarke nodded, pulling Lexa’s head down to her own, “Okay, Lexa,” and then they kissed. Lexa stiffened at first, but soon her body had relaxed, and she kissed Clarke for everything she was worth. Clarke was pregnant, and she couldn’t think about anything other than how much she wanted to care for her.

Slowly, their tongues traced familiar patterns into their mouths, and Clarke’s mind relaxed in a bliss more addictive than heroin. Who needed heroin when Lexa’s hardness was pressing into her stomach?

She reached inside Lexa's underwear and ran a hand over the stiff length, the thin, sensitive skin so smooth in her hand. Lexa gave an expulsion of air. Under her boyshort underwear, Clarke rubbed the head of Lexa’s cock and massaged the underside.

The women kissed, and Clarke was guided Lexa out of her underwear and shirt until she was completely naked. Lexa licked and kissed until she had captured a nipple in her mouth, and Clarke hummed, stripping herself of her own remaining clothes. Clarke's breasts were heavy and lovely in Lexa's hands, and Clarke used the time to quickly arrange Lexa's hair into a messy tie, keeping it out of Clarke’s face. 

Kissing, Lexa shifted, and her erection sprang upwards, directly slapping Clarke’s hot center. They both moaned, and it felt like it had been far too long. Equal desire in equal measure.

Lexa searched with her hips to Clarke’s tight entrance and pushed at the soft heat. Clarke hissed.

"Be gentle, Lex," she whispered, "I missed you,"

Lexa grunted deeply, knowing exactly how Clarke felt. She lifted a hand to slip two fingers inside Clarke, and the woman gasped out her nonsense approval. A few moments of work passed, and a plead 'Lexa' drove the brunette to try again. She directed her cock to Clarke's pussy and slowly slipped the swollen head inside, Clarke whined, and Lexa continued to push. Simultaneously, the two sighed in sweet relief when Lexa slid inside the wet, waiting entrance, the base of her erection connecting fully.

“Lexa,” Clarke murmured, reaching for the woman, and Lexa readily made herself available to the reaching hands. They kissed, deeply and soothingly, some frayed portion of their hearts healing over.

Lexa drew up to hold her body over Clarke’s and drew out slowly, pumping back in easily. The slim, well-worn hands of a chef traced over her shoulders, triceps, and breasts. The moonlight allowed their eyes to adjust well enough to see each other in the darkness, and they both felt their far-off orgasms. This was not a rush, not a race. Not a means to an end. Cerulean eyes stared into glowing emeralds, and it was profound, the emotions flickering like water in the sun.

Continuing to flex her abs and ass, Lexa lowered her body on top of Clarke’s, and she kissed up and down her neck, not missing a beat. Clarke sighed in total contentment, wrapping her arms around Lexa, her legs spread for the deeply thrusting woman.

“Lexa,”

Lexa turned her head and they kissed intimately. She pushed onto one elbow, allowing her to piston in and out as well as access Clarke’s face, using her other hand to run over the woman’s ribs, hip and ass, hitching one of Clarke's legs over her shoulder.

Clarke cupped the woman’s jaw, loving how Lexa continued to move even more deeply inside of her, pleasure spiking up her spine from every thrust. She didn’t look away from Lexa’s eyes.

“Lexa. I'm pregnant," she whispered into the quiet of the steaming room, "We made a baby." Lexa didn’t pause her straining length in the process, but she stared into Clarke’s eyes, seeing the unbridled joy, and love for her baby. And yes, fear. Fear of the unknown future, but faith, too.

“We made a baby,” her thick voice repeated, her hand moving to cup Clarke’s beautiful face, “You’re pregnant, Clarke. You're pregnant with my baby,” she hushed out, her voice clipped and grinding. Exertion and emotion, both, in her tone.

Clarke felt her insides jar at Lexa’s phrasing, but it melted into something hot and prideful, an edge of deep-seated satisfaction around the corners, “Yes. I’m pregnant. You’re my baby’s mother, Lexa.”

Her hands carded through Lexa’s soft hair, and her legs wrapped around the thrusting waist, her ankles locking. She twisted her hands open and swiped her thumbs over Lexa’s sculpted high cheekbones when two uneven tears spilled from the wide, forest green eyes.

“Lexa, stop,” She whispered, and Lexa pulled out immediately, her erection sliding wetly across Clarke’s stomach as the woman pulled her face to meet her own. She kissed Lexa, once, twice, and looked at her hard.

“Do you want to be a Mom, Lexa?” Clarke breathed, her voice made of candle smoke and velvet.

Lexa’s insides twisted, and she bent back down to press her lips to Clarke’s. The woman felt something in between her heart and her stomach release, like a padlock on a gasket depressurizing. As soon as Clarke had put the feelings into words, Lexa knew.

She moved back to let Clarke see her clearly, and her vocal chords were wire taut, but her heart stayed lucid.

“Please,” she held one of Clarke’s hands on her face, “Please let me be a mother,” the brunette woman’s eyes shone in a pyre of determination and weight, “We made a baby, Clarke. And I want so badly to take care of you and this baby. But more than that,”

Clarke didn’t interrupt, and she watched as Lexa was swept away by passion and an aching sort of wonder she knew all too well. And Lexa wore it so gracefully.

“More than that, yes, I want to be a mother. To love her, and teach her right from wrong, and watch her grow. Because she’s so beautiful, Clarke, I know it,”

She rested her forehead against Clarke’s collarbone, “Clarke,” she whispered, like a plea, "Clarke,"

Clarke held the woman and despite the tense atmosphere, she smiled. Lexa was just… perfect. She was confusing and simple, and Clarke had only dared to think a whisper of this being a possibility. Like some bright star lighting her life from an infinity away.

“Lexa,” she hummed, and fingers stroked over where Clarke hadn’t noticed Lexa had placed them on her flat stomach in acknowledgement.

“Lexa, be our baby’s mother?” she said, her voice a requested statement, “I never knew you wanted to be. I guessed, but I didn’t really know. But I’m telling you now, Lexa, I want you. Because we made a baby together,” Clarke smiled, amazed, and Lexa had lifted to observe her with bright, shining green eyes, “We made a baby, and you’re going to be an amazing Mom,” she hushed out.

Lexa took Clarke’s lips with her own and slipped back inside the woman, her thrusts faster and deeper than before. Clarke gasped, delighted. The brunette's erection was solid and unyielding, making Clarke’s orgasm roll and approach her like a storm.

When they had kissed, licked, nipped, and touched enough to work their orgasms closer, Clarke repeated Lexa’s name like it was a prayer. Clarke came with a spine curling shudder moments later, and her insides twisted and unknotted in pleasure. Lexa all at once ejaculated deeply inside of Clarke, and she savored the warm feeling.

Lexa gathered the mother of her child in her arms and laid kisses everywhere she could reach. When she settled, her head was on Clarke's stomach, and the woman smiled at her.

“You said ‘her’.” She commented.

“Yes, I suppose I did,” Lexa smiled, amused at the catch.

“Any particular reason for that?”

“I was told that my genetics tend to produce girls. Some boys, but mostly females. And I really can’t see us with a baby boy, beautiful as he may be,”

Clarke felt her smile stretch wide, “So, a girl?”

“Yeah,” Lexa laughed, stretching out on her stomach, languidly caressing the fertile womb under her lips, “A girl,”

Clarke hummed, “Maybe we’ll be the exception?”

“I think it’s a girl,” Lexa said smugly, and the blonde haired woman raised an eyebrow. Lexa continued, “Only your daughter could cause so much trouble for you so early,”

Clarke laughed.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Hey! I knew you in high school, Clarke, don’t you remember?”

“Shit. I actually managed to forget about that,”

Lexa grinned rakishly, propping a hand to support her head, “Mhm. Did you know that I thought you were incredibly sexy in college?”

“Lexa, everyone in college thought I was sexy,”

“You didn’t let me finish. I thought you were sexy, until I found out what an enormous ego you had,”

Clarke laughed and reached a hand to play with the fine hair at the back of Lexa’s head.

“I thought you were stuck up,” she said simply.

“What?!”

“It’s true,” the woman was grinning up at the faux-shocked face, “You walked around campus for eight years like you and your friends were God’s gift to mankind,”

Lexa raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and caught Clarke’s free hand in her own, kissing the knuckles sweetly, “I doubt any of us suffered any delusion of the sort. Mankind? No. Womankind, however…” she crawled up the bed and guided the captured hand down the length of her body, a smirk growing, and Clarke found herself cupping Lexa’s flaccid penis, “It’s possible,”

Clarke fought every iota of her body wanting to tap Lexa in the balls and clear away her curling smile, but damned if Lexa wasn’t so incredibly endearing. The woman gave a huff of amusement and let it pass.

“I’ll reply to that with only the statement that it took you six months to get me pregnant,” she replied deftly, her fingers absently stroking Lexa’s soft dick. The woman raised an eyebrow and a twinkle came to light her eyes.

“Well then,” she purred, feeling her cock twitch in Clarke’s oddly capable fingers, “Let’s not make you wait another six, shall we?”

Clarke smirked, “Can you go again tonight?”

“Undoubtedly,”

“When will you be able to get it up?” Clarke asked interestedly, her eyes darkening by the second.

“Clarke, just a moment, please,”

Almost a full half-second of stroking, and Clarke frowned down the bed at Lexa’s still only slightly responsive penis.

“Lexa-“

“Clarke, come here,” Lexa turned the woman’s head, and joined their lips. Clarke stilled her hand and focused on the soft smoothness of Lexa’s lips over hers, and the perfect pattern of deep and shallow kissing. To her delight and surprise, only a few moments passed before Lexa’s erection swelled and grew in her hand.

She continued to stroke until it was straining and large. Lexa hummed, looking wickedly at Clarke, and the woman only grinned, once again kissing the brunette on top of her.

Clarke didn’t know exactly when things had changed so drastically. In the beginning, she wasn’t sure whether kissing Lexa was acceptable. Now, she couldn’t imagine reaching orgasm without having their lips close. When exactly had they stopped calling on God during sex, and instead called out for each other? She remembered their first night together, and how she had gotten herself ready to receive Lexa. When now, she had smacked Lexa’s shoulder just the other day for not enough foreplay?

And when did… this happen?

She didn’t know, and she didn’t care to investigate. All she and Lexa were aware of, is that they were happy. Content in the odd limbo of heated affection and dutiful passion they had entrenched themselves in.

Clarke was, to say the least, shocked. There was a large helping of amusement in there somewhere, but it was mostly concerned alarm. Lexa had lost her mind. Or come startlingly close, it seemed. Clarke was currently sitting cross-legged on the couch, watching as the blonde woman wore a hole through her own living room floor.

Lexa had moved two tri-fold stands into the room from her office, an overly large writing page set on each. Clarke was on-call for the restaurant, and Lexa had only just arrived back home. She paced in tight circles, her teeth on edge, but her voice surprisingly pleasant.

“No, I would like to speak with Dr. Titus, for the sixth time,” she ran critical eyes over the left page, taping a pen in her hands, “yes, I will hold,” she touched the Bluetooth headset in her ear to mute the mouthpiece.

“Uh, Lexa?” the woman began hesitantly.

“Yes, Clarke?”

“What in the hell are the boxes by the door for?”

The woman paused her pacing and glanced, her face lighting up, “Oh wonderful! They’re finally here,”

“Finally? Lexa, I had to sign for them because they were overnighted.”

“They’re your supplements!”

“My…”

“Nothing alarming, I promise. I had two of my best interns cross reference the list I gathered of necessary vitamins and supplements you’ll be needing, with those of other prestigious fertility clinics and doctors. Then, they researched various brands and types to find the best of each,” Lexa was speaking quickly and proudly, missing completely Clarke’s growing look of disbelief, “Naturally, there’s folic acid, vitamin B, as well as iron, calcium, omega-3, and low dosages of vitamin A. I didn’t get vitamin D, because that’s what I’m here for,” Lexa’s swift wink was almost missed by Clarke, and the woman kept going, unperturbed, “And then obviously, I got them in all in different pill sizes so you can find what you’re comfortable with, as well as in powered form if you’re feeling too nauseous to swallow the pills,”

Lexa broke to breathe, her smile curling happily at her accomplishments, once more speaking quickly, “I sent your health details in to a clinic last week and they’ve devised a rough schedule for you, but you have a dietician appointment tomorrow morning just to be sure,” she suddenly broke off, touching her ear once more.

“Yes, I’m here,” she continued her pacing, listening to the phone intently, and Clarke kept her rear on the sofa cushions, not knowing exactly what demon had possessed Lexa, but hoping not to incur its wrath.

“Ah, Dr. Titus,” Lexa glided out, her accent svelte and warm, “Yes, I’m sorry to pull you out of surgery, I hope you’ll forgive me. You see, my name is Lexa Woods… yes, the Nykos are dear friends of mine. In fact, they mentioned you to me when they heard I was going to have a baby,”

She paused, smiling widely with pride at no one, and Clarke matched the expression indulgently.

“Mhm, yes, thank you very much, but that should really be given to my partner, who is the one actually carrying the baby,” she paused, and laughed. Clarke sighed and waited the woman out. Lexa and Clarke had decided on something to call their relationship – at least when it came to the baby – they were going to be parents together, a combined effort. They were partners in this endeavor.

It saved time, in all honesty.

“C-section or vaginal birth?” Lexa seemed to repeat, turning curious eyes to Clarke, who tilted her head and wrinkled her eyebrows. Lexa turned her focus sharply, as if the doctor were in front of her, “You mean to tell me you are not proficient at both?”

Clarke almost laughed.

Lexa had narrowed her eyes at thin air and told the man she would consider him, as if it were some type of dating contest. She fiddled with the Bluetooth once again and started to write quickly on the notepad.

“Harper? Yes, will you get me in touch with the next one?”

Clarke rolled her eyes and got comfortable on the couch as Lexa traced the same back and forth line on the carpet as she volleyed between speaking and listening. Four doctors later, Lexa had filled an entire page of the large pad in detailed notes of doctors, hospitals and specifics of care.

“Clarke,” she called, her gaze switching to the second pad.

“Hm?” Clarke’s attention focused, and Lexa started to speak in her swift, smiling, business-like tone once more.

“I’ve gone ahead and done some research,”

“Really? Or did an intern give you a report?” Clarke drolled, and Lexa ignored her.

“And a few small changes may need to be taken, nothing large, don’t worry. For instance, to quit smoking, but you don’t do that. So, easy enough,” The woman was folding her arms and reading from the pad, “No alcohol, obviously. And studies have linked caffeine to miscarriages and complications, so I’m afraid you can’t have coffee, tea, soda, that kind of thing. Speaking of, no more raw eggs, sushi, oysters, or fish. They qualify as hazardous foods,”

Clarke didn’t know if she wanted to be amused or if she would rather start getting upset. Lexa only continued,

“And I hope you’ve been avoiding cleaning, as the chemicals in the cleaning products may be harmful. Oh! How have your bras been feeling? Doesn’t matter; I’ve also arranged an appointment at a specialty maternity shop to get you new, comfortable lingerie. I remember you mentioned how your current bras are uncomfortable. And I’m incredibly excited to attend that with you,”

Lexa smiled mischievously at the pad, but she batted a hand elegantly at air and shook her head, “No, I’m sorry. I really should stop that. We shouldn’t have sex until the second trimester at the earliest,”

“Okay,” Clarke interrupted, her line having been found, “Lexa, stop it.”

The brunette turned back to the woman curiously, her train of thought and momentum derailed. Finally, in Clarke’s opinion.

“Lexa,” the seated woman stood and planted her hands on her hips, “I… appreciate everything you’ve done here. I do. It’s incredibly thoughtful of you. I’m thrilled about the appointments, and the pills, and.. stuff,” Lexa smiled brightly, and Clarke’s gaze turned hard, “But I am going to eat what I want. It’s my job. And I’m going to clean things. I’m not going to be doing lines of Clorox, Lexa, really. I sure as hell am going to have a cup of coffee every day,”

She ran a hand through her hair and then held her other up to stop Lexa from interrupting.

“And you need to quit harassing every OBGYN in D.C. to find the one who knows best how to get a baby out of me. You’re being ridiculous,”

Clarke felt her agitation and exasperation roll in her stomach,

“I have a baby growing inside of me, not a bomb. And the baby likes it when Mommy is happy. Mommy cannot be happy if she doesn’t have her coffee, Lexa. I'm throwing up, I'm horny, and I'm urinating, and am going to lose a lot of my bodily functions’ control, and I am going to do it with some goddamn coffee. I’m also incredibly pissed off that this is why we haven’t had sex for a week and a half! Sex is healthy for me! So relax and just let me continue to live a normal, although still safe, life. When I hit the third trimester, then I give you full permission to continue this mental breakdown. But for now, I need coffee and sex. Okay?”

By now, Lexa had managed to reign herself in and was twitching her fingernails together, looking like a freshly kicked puppy. Clarke sighed, trying to relax.

“Lexa,” she called softly, and the apologetic green eyes flickered up to her, “C’mere,” and Clarke extended an arm, taking Lexa’s hand when the woman stepped toward her.

She curled herself into Lexa’s side, and placed the kidnapped hand on her lower stomach. Her head leaned against the taller woman’s neck while she firmly pressed the hand down. Clarke had no baby bump to speak of, but there was a definite hardness to be felt.

“You know, I did some research of my own,” she intoned lightly, “They say at 6 weeks, the baby is the size of a pea,”

The brunette stilled. Then, Lexa’s fingers splayed towards Clarke’s hips, and the woman shifted to face the sunshine-haired chef. Her full lips were pulled into an awe-inspired smile, and she gracefully lowered herself to the floor, kneeling in what Clarke knew to be a very expensive pencil skirt on the soft carpet.

Clarke felt her heart tighten and double time as Lexa pressed her lips to Clarke’s womb.

“Hello, sweet pea,” Lexa murmured throatily, her eyes glimmering in excitement and subdued love for their child. Clarke laid a hand in Lexa’s hair, threading through the thick mahogany curls. Lexa laid another soft kiss to the clothed skin. It was such a sweet, tender sight, Clarke knew instantly she would remember it forever.

“Help Mommy forgive your Mama for meddling, hm?”

Clarke laughed, and Lexa rose, still softly stroking her stomach, “It is much too early to use our child as leverage, Lexa Woods,” she threatened halfheartedly.

“Ahh,” Lexa hummed, “So your forgiveness has to be earned, is that it?” She crossed the living room and started disassembling the paper and stands, and Clarke felt a hot press of guilt cover her heart. Lexa had very little control over what was obviously something she was incredibly excited to invest in.

And Clarke knew Lexa was a hard-won businesswoman. She was intelligent and organized, willing to put in work and sacrifice. A matter as close to her heart as her own child was not something she was going to approach lightly.

The light-haired woman brought her hand to touch her stomach lightly.

‘You will be so loved, little one,’

“Lexa, wait,” Clarke called down the hall Lexa had disappeared in. The woman emerged, hands empty, a grim expression playing over her face.

“I’d like to change, Clarke,” she replied hesitantly, and the shorter woman realized Lexa was waiting for her to start criticizing her again. Clarke crossed the distance and wrapped her arms around Lexa’s neck, laying a kiss on the woman’s lips.

Lexa relaxed fully into the feeling of the simple press of their mouths together. When Clarke drew away, her nose wrinkled cutely.

“I’m sorry, Lexa. You only care about the baby and I, and I reacted… poorly. I should have been more patient,” she said lowly, looking sincerely into Lexa’s eyes. It was much too early for them to encounter parenting problems, and the last thing she wanted was for Lexa to feel her support wasn’t everything Clarke wanted.

Lexa’s arms around Clarke contracted slightly, and her eyes grew soft. She reached to adjust a hair in Clarke’s eyes, “I admit, I overdid it,” she said, “But I’ve just been thinking myself in circles about how I can be the best mother and partner for you,” she smiled slightly, “I went a little crazy, I suppose,”

“You didn’t,” Clarke reassured, thumbing Lexa’s high cheekbone affectionately, “I get it, and I want you to keep trying so manically hard to care for us,”

Lexa laughed and hugged the woman, kissing her hair, “Thank you,”

“Mhm,” Clarke separated from Lexa, “We don’t have any groceries, so go change and we’ll do that thing where we freak out the new servers by making them wait on us,” she smirked.

Lexa laughed and nodded, “You’re too cruel to them, you know. I think Charlotte is sweet,”

“She dropped five of my brand new plates,” Clarke iced.

“Sure, sure,” Lexa waved, unbuttoning her dress blouse, “I’ll be out in 5 minutes,”

“I just heard 10,”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

Clarke laughed, turning back to the living room and sitting on the couch. She suddenly remembered something and shouted to the direction of the bedroom, “Oh, and Lexa?”

“Ye-es?” The muffled reply came.

“You are having sex with me tonight!”

Lexa’s echoing laughter made her smile.

“So, who’d you and Octavia sucker into baby sitting for you tonight?” Clarke drolled, amused.

Raven snorted, her lips curling in her devious smirk, “Monty and Jasper,”

“Oh Jesus, Raven. You’ll scare the hell out of Jasper! You know Monty wants a baby, you know, yesterday,”

“I don’t think I could handle that,” Raven intoned, “You and I are too much already,”

Clarke nodded. Still in the first trimester, she and Lexa had only informed the Blake's of Clarke’s pregnancy at 8 weeks, only to have the shocked couple tell them that Raven had her fourth pregnancy confirmed three days prior.

“Well,” Raven amended, “When I say you and I, I really mean Octavia and you. Sometimes I swear that woman thinks she’s the one who’s carrying the little bugger,”

“Lexa’s been doing the exact same thing!” Clarke exclaimed, sitting back in the booth. She and the dark-headed woman were enjoying some time away from their partners, while the other two enjoyed a guilt-free drink at the restaurant’s bar, “It’s almost constant, how she tries so hard to make sure I am or am not doing certain things,”

“Oh yeah. Octavia swears Cece came out as sweet-tempered as she did because I slept on my left side the whole time I was pregnant. I still wake up to her pushing me over,”

“Lexa told me we couldn’t do it from behind one night because she didn’t want to ‘poke’ the baby,” Clarke commiserated, her embarrassment curbed by her audience. Raven was probably the only person who could relate to her, and the hellion didn’t disappoint. She nodded, sipping her water.

“Octavia did that. And it’s not fucking true,”

“I know,” Clarke said icily, “She scheduled a doctors appointment to make sure,”

“She did what?” Raven raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah,” the blonde-haired woman confirmed in a battle-hardened way, “She got every detail she could out of that woman, then proceeded to ask what to expect about my sex drive, what would feel good, how the baby would be affected… It just went on,”

Raven snorted.

“Did you know Octavia and I didn’t have sex for almost six months after Cece?”

“Really?”

The short woman nodded, “It had nothing to do with her, honest. I still found her attractive, and she still turned me on, I just… I don’t know,”

“I feel like that should be normal,”

Raven tilted her head, her eyes flicking toward the bar, “I think so, too. But she didn’t get it. Convinced herself I didn’t want to be with her anymore or some shit,”

Clarke frowned.

“We worked it out, obviously. But I’m just saying, make sure you remember that even if you don’t want to, doesn’t mean your woman doesn’t. She’ll be so nice about it, but still,” she shrugged, almost at a loss.

“I get it,” Clarke murmured. They definitely hadn’t encountered that particular problem, “I don’t think I’ll have to remember, though. My hormones are making it so I practically jump her when she walks through the door every night,”

Raven laughed, “Lucky bitch. My tits are so tender I get sore from Octavia even looking at them too hard,”

“Lexa does a different thing. She’s convinced my breasts are going to one day just be twice as large,”

“Does Lexa hover? Octavia’s starting to hover,”

“Sometimes,” Clarke sigh shortly, her mouth twisting, “I’ll be cooking, and she gets this look on her face that I know means she wants me to stop, but she wouldn’t dare ask me to,”

“I know that face,” Raven grouched, “Octavia combines it with this weird twitch in her hand when she wants to take something away from me, like I’m Zoe with a lighter or something,”

Clarke crossed her arms, “Lexa traded her Porsche in for a ‘more family friendly’ SUV without telling me,”

“You’re kidding,” Clarke shook her head, “What kind?”

“A Mercedes GL36,” she rattled off.

“Wow,” Raven raised her eyebrows, “Nice car,”

Clarke tipped her head in acknowledgement.

“It’s not the money that bothered me,” she confessed, “Between us, Lexa and I didn’t even feel it, and it’s her car anyway. What made me upset was that we didn’t decide on it together. Our kid is probably going to learn to drive in that car, you know?”

Raven nodded, frowning along side her pregnant friend. She turned suddenly vulnerable eyes away, “Octavia picked out Cece's car seat without me,” she admitted, her voice breaking.

Clarke, for some strange reason, understood exactly how much of a travesty this was. Her lips parted and she was suddenly angry, “You can’t be serious,”

Raven bit her lip, a hand coming up to block her eyes from the rest of the lounge, “I mean, I know it’s not a big deal, but that seat went to Myles, and then Zoe after him. What if I hadn’t liked it?”

Clarke extended a hand hesitantly to lay over Raven’s, their fluctuating hormones aligned, and her face was twisted in sympathy, thinking vividly about what she’d do if Lexa did such a thing.

“And Octavia’s such a good Mama, you know?” Raven was borderline sniffling, “She’s so good with Cece, Myles, and Zoe, and she still makes time for me,” her bright eyes watered in confused tears, “W-we almost never have time to have sex, and when we do, she’s still only concerned about me!”

Clarke felt her own eyes moisten, and her throat tightened, “Lexa never comes until I do,” she said softly, and Raven gave a watery grin.

“Octavia does this thing where she talks to my stomach for an hour every night. She says it’s ‘her connecting with the baby’,”

Clarke laughed through her tears, picturing Lexa’s beautiful face kissing her womb, “Lexa calls the baby ‘sweet pea’,” she choked, not even sure why she was crying.

But apparently, Raven knew, and the two pregnant women broke down in tears right there in the restaurant. This was the scene Octavia and Lexa arrived to, and they exchanged already exhausted glances. Lexa slid into the secluded booth, and Clarke instantly leaned into the woman, Octavia and Raven copying their movements.

“I’m gonna take her to the bathroom,” Octavia told Lexa sturdily, trying to lead her sniffling wife out of the seat. Lexa merely sighed and nodded, wondering how much they’d have to tip the waiter Clarke just glared at.

“No. He’s honestly just the most obtusely arrogant man I’ve ever been forced to work with!” Lexa fumed.

“Sounds like it. Violet?”

“No. The audacity of looking me right in the eyes and telling me I didn’t say something I definitely said is maddening,”

“Mhm. Luna?”

“No, I know a Luna. And then Damien tried to defend me, which, I very much didn’t appreciate,”

“Of course you wouldn’t. Darren?”

“At the moment, it reminds me of Damien. No. So, I find the email I sent him and show it to him. Right in front of him, and do you know what he says?”

“What does he say? How about Vera?”

“Hm, I think I like the names with longer syllables. He says his secretary didn’t give that one to him,”

“Wow,” Clarke looked impressed, “this guy is an idiot, isn’t he?”

“You have no idea,” Lexa said dryly, shutting the sink off.

“I want a dishwasher in the new house,” Clarke said blithely, drying the plate in her hands. Lexa laughed and was about to respond when her phone went off. Clarke sighed heavily.

“Aren’t Sundays sacred to those people?”

Lexa grimaced, “There is no holy day for the footmen of Satan,”

Clarke laughed, and Lexa reached up to click her Bluetooth, “Lexa Woods,” she answered professionally. She leaned to put the plates on the taller shelves. Suddenly, she froze, shock crossing her features. Clarke watched her with alarm, and Lexa’s next words made everything click.

“M-mom. You and Mother are where?”

Shit. Clarke felt ice crawl up her spine, while heat curled in her stomach. She turned, and dashed for the hall bathroom to empty the contents of her stomach. It only took the smallest things to set her morning sickness off. Lexa had been too stunned to chase after her.

“Yes, I see. My floor is the B side of number 3, Mom,” she gripped the counter, “Yes, of course I have room… Sure. See you,”

Lexa hung up and flung the earpiece onto the counter, finding Clarke in the master bath, brushing her teeth, her eyes wide. Lexa ran a hand through her hair.

“My parents are here. Right now. For the night,” she said haltingly. Clarke finished cleaning her mouth.

“When will they be there? Is there enough time for me to-“

“They’re down in the garage,” Lexa sighed, “Not enough time to collect the signs that you don’t… exist here,”

Clarke noted her careful wording. She had almost moved in, and at Lexa’s request. The women considered it a non-issue as to where they would sleep that night. And their plans for the future were just as hazy. Clarke wanted to live in a house, and Lexa had made it her venture to find the perfect one. They referred to it ambiguously as ‘the house’. Not Clarke’s, not Lexa’s, not ‘their’.  Just ‘the' house.

“We’ll have to wing it,” Lexa said tightly, oblivious to Clarke’s internal monologue.

“Okay, and say what?” Clarke wondered. She knew a lot about Lexa’s parents through stories and pictures, and Lexa knew the same about Clarke’s mother. With the information she had, she knew Lexa’s parents wouldn’t like or understand the arrangement they had made; they themselves didn’t fully understand it.

“I don’t quite know,” Lexa stressed, and Clarke nodded, leading the way out of the bathroom.

“We could be married?” she offered, her heart clenching at her own willingness. Lexa almost forgot to take the next step forward mid-walk, but she relaxed and shook her head.

“We don’t have rings, and my mother would be furious I didn’t tell her I had gotten married. Engaged?”

Clarke nodded, “Engaged should work as long as we don’t let them know I’m pregnant,”

A polite knocking sounded through the apartment and Lexa pulled a deep breath through her nose, glancing at Clarke.

“Ready?”

The chef nodded, “Not at all. How do I look?”

Lexa crossed to the door and paused. She gave a brief smile, “Beautiful,”

She turned, and missed the affectionate crease of the woman’s eyes. Clarke highly doubted her boyfriend jeans and tank top would impress Lexa’s aristocratic parents, but she appreciated the compliment. Lexa unlocked the door’s bolt and pulled it open.

In the entryway stood Lexa’s mother and mom, each with perfect posture and similar-feeling auras of the well-bred elite. Lexa’s mom was almost a carbon copy of Lexa, different colored hair and eyes, but just as beautiful. Her mother, if Clarke didn’t know any better, was so masculine looking, she would have identified her as a very pretty man.

“Mom, Mother, please come in,” Lexa said genially, letting the couple step inside, “I wasn’t expecting anyone, or I would have prepared a bit,” she shut the door behind them, and locked it once more.

‘Funny, how it sounds like a prison cell closing.’

“No need, Lexa, your mother and I wanted to surprise you. To see what you was going on with you,” her mom said with a Splenda-like sweetness. Her voice told Clarke exactly where Lexa had gotten the soft, gentle tones of her speaking cadence, but instead of Lexa’s fresh laundry gentleness, her mom's held an undertone of severity.

Luckily, the older Woods' were turned toward Lexa, their backs to Clarke who stood awkwardly by the nearest couch. This still meant that they were almost literally backing their daughter into a corner.

“Well, Mom,” Lexa supplied with a smoothness she didn’t feel, “It has been quite a while since we were last together,”

“Lexa, don’t be ridiculous,” her mother intoned, the tall, dusty-brown hair cut immaculately short, “We spoke over the phone not six months ago, you remember,”

“Yes, Mother,” the woman supplied, her voice an ocean of persuasive reasoning, “But that was a business call. You asked me to find someone to purchase one of the lake houses,”

The lined, handsome face frowned, “I suppose I understand what you’re trying to say,”

“What is the significance of it, though, my dear?” her mother questioned.

“I’m saying I haven’t updated you both on my life as I probably should have been doing,” Lexa said, giving a hard look to her parents, almost pleading them to be reasonable.

“Is there something we should know, Lexa?” Her mother's voice was deep enough to evoke memories of restaurant maitre’ds calling her mother ‘sir’.

“Yes,” she said tightly. Lexa raised her head proudly. Her gaze shifted, and she moved to where Clarke stood. Instantly, she felt the heat of the two older Woods' rest on her, and she wanted to itch herself all over at the unforgiving judgement in the observing eyes.

Lexa’s calming scent pressed into her side, and Clarke re-arranged her face to send to Lexa, who met her eyes and smiled like Clarke was her most prized person. In truth, she was, but it was a look she had reserved only for the most intimate of moments between them. Giving it in front of her voracious parents felt cheap. Still…

“Mom, Mother,” Lexa said strongly, turning back to her parents, “This is Clarke Griffin, my fiancée,”

Clarke gave a smallish smile, sending a light nod to Lexa’s parents each, “It’s nice to meet you,” her voice graveled out lowly, easily. She knew that no matter what happened here, nothing between her and Lexa would change, but she wanted to make sure nothing between Lexa and her parents did.

“Oh,” her mom said, glancing up at her confused, frowning wife, “I had no idea, Lexa,” she stepped closer to the couple, gaining social decorum with each stride, until her mask was perfectly in place. Her hand extended to Clarke, and she took the younger woman’s in her own, “Alexandrine Woods. Congratulations, Clarke, I look forward to getting to know you,”

“Likewise, ma’am,” Clarke replied pleasantly. Lexa’s mother crossed to enter the sphere and also shook Clarke’s hand, her features unreadable.

“Declan Woods,” she said lowly, the green eyes Clarke had seen melted in fondness and play, hard and vexed. The woman dropped the hand and raised an eyebrow, “Where is your ring, Ms. Griffin?”

Alexandrine jumped on this in an instant, snapping her eyes to Lexa, “Did you not buy your fiancée a ring, Lexa?”

“It’s at the jewelers,” Clarke explained, her voice a facilitating pleasantry, “I’ve had it for a few months, so Lexa suggested I get it cleaned,”

“I see,” Alexandrine said, deceptively kind, “A wonderful proposition, Lexa,”

Declan backed away from Clarke with an easier nod, turning to her daughter, “Have you both had dinner?”

“No, we had planned just to cook and eat here,” Lexa said, wondering what she was going to wear tonight, when the unavoidable-

“Nonsense, darling!” Alexandrine said, waving a perfectly manicured hand, “Of course we’re taking our daughter, and her fiancée, out to dinner. Declan, tell them about that restaurant you’ve been talking about. Oh, Lexa, your mother ate at some fabulous restaurant the other month, and I’ve been dying to try it,” the woman paused, her blue eyes flicking over her daughter, “You’re not going like that, are you?”

Lexa smiled, “Of course not, Mom. Clarke, let’s get changed, shall we?” the smaller woman nodded, “Mother, there are magazines and newspapers under the coffee table. We’ll be just a moment,”

She guided Clarke out of the living room and into the bedroom with ease, and Clarke shut the door firmly behind them. She gave a significant look to Lexa, who only grimaced and bit her lip.

Clarke drew herself up, and walked toward the bathroom, vomiting. Lexa’s face collapsed in guilt and exasperation. Wordlessly, she began to raid the closet for suitable outfits while Clarke cleaned herself. She selected black pants and heels for Clarke, a brown cashmere sweater to hide any sort of curve on her stomach her mother might sniff out.

For herself, she put her hair in a low bun, tight grey pants and a feminine red suit-style jacket. Clarke emerged, fresh make up in place and started to dress.

“I have no idea what’s about to happen, Clarke, but I am so incredibly sorry,” Lexa muttered, trying to decide if she should wear a skinny tie or not. Clarke smiled, putting her heels on and crossing to the agitated woman.

“You wear that, and you’ll wind up looking a little butch,” she said lightly. It worked.

Lexa smiled weakly, rolling her eyes, “My mother likes it when I dress masculinely, and my mom likes it when I show a little femininity. Finding the razor’s edge of both is like finding a needle in a the world’s largest haystack,” she paused, “But with testosterone and dick,”

Clarke snorted, taking the tie away. She tossed it on the bed and put her arms around Lexa’s neck.

“Lexa, it’s going to be fine,” she soothed, “It may be awkward, and uncomfortable, and I’m probably going to send you emergency signals to helicopter evacuate me from the table, but it’s going to be fine,”

Lexa was laughing, and she settled her arms back around Clarke’s waist. She breathed deeply, looking into those glittering blue eyes steadily.

“So I suppose this means we won’t get to try JJ’s take out?”

Clarke wrinkled her nose, “JJ’s isn’t good in the restaurant, Lexa. It’ll be even worse here. If that’s what you were going to feed your daughter and baby Mama tonight, I’m going to go out there and thank your parents,”

Lexa giggled and leaned down, sliding her nose along Clarke’s, “Thank you,” she whispered, bringing their lips together. They kissed slowly. For comfort, for security, for sanity. Clarke hummed as Lexa coaxed Clarke’s tongue into her mouth and gently sucked on the wet muscle. She luxuriously nipped Lexa’s full bottom lip, immediately soothing it and letting the taller woman swipe contentedly into her mouth. Lexa’s hands found their way further and further down, and Clarke broke away from Lexa, laughing and slapping the woman’s shoulder for her attention span.

Lexa apologized, smiling, laying another kiss to the laughing lips. Soon, the smile had disappeared, lost once more in the intoxicating-

“Lexa, your mother is-“

“Mother!”

The two women jumped apart from each other like teenagers caught with their hands below the sheets. Declan raised an eyebrow.

“Lexa, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m kissing my fiancée in the privacy of our bedroom! Please leave!”

For whatever reason, her mother frowned, but obliged. Lexa collapsed into a seat on the bed, burying her face in her hands, a frustrated noise escaping her throat.

“How is this possible?” she moaned, “I’m a 35 year old woman with a child on the way, and my parents still make me feel like I got caught sneaking Zoe Monroe out of my room,”

Clarke smiled quietly and took one of the woman’s hands, leading her to the door. She paused, turning to frown at Lexa.

“You slept with Zoe Monroe?”

Lexa raised an eyebrow, “Yes,”

“I did too,”

Lexa smirked, “Well she always did have excellent tastes in women,”

“I’ll say,” Clarke laughed, “When?”

The woman’s eye twinkled narcissistically, “I took her virginity in High School,”

Clarke’s jaw dropped, then her mouth curled, “Oh, you have so much explaining to do, Commander. But for now, we have a horrible dinner to get though,”

“Right,” Lexa soldiered.

And Clarke was right. It was a horrible dinner. Starting with the fact that ‘some fabulous restaurant’ was actually Clarke’s Ambassador's. Lexa’s mother insisted that it had to have been some other restaurant she was thinking of, even while tucking in to an entrée Clarke had carefully hand-designed.

The blonde haired woman’s dinner fluctuated between being totally ignored or put under the gun, and it left her to glare at Lexa, who was usually found asking a passing waiter to refill her wine glass. When asked about her non-alcoholic choices, Clarke flinched as Lexa practically threw her Mercedes' keys at her and declared her the designated driver. 

When the family had found their way once more back into the spacious apartment, Lexa spent two full hours getting her parents settled in the guest bedroom. Clarke wondered if she should fill the time in a more comfortable manner, like beating her head against the wall.

Finally, at 11 at night, Lexa found herself stripping her clothes off and crawling into bed next to Clarke. They lay in shell-shocked silence for moments, staring at the ceiling until Lexa shut her eyes and spoke.

“Mom wants to see your ring tomorrow,” she said hollowly.

“What?!” Clarke turned to Lexa’s profile in alarm.

“I tried everything. But she said she’s going to stay here until it’s ready. She insists,” her voice was light and mocking.

Clarke groaned, “What do we do?”

“Well, I am going to take tomorrow off and go get you one,” she said, her tone a pleasant buzz of unaffected. Clarke sighed deeply.

“Right,” she said, “I want to come with you,”

Lexa hummed, “Can you do that?” She rolled to her side to look at Clarke, and the woman faced her.

“I’ve been trying to train a couple of the managers to run the restaurant,” she said, her voice the slow, relaxing wind down of an incredibly stressful day, “Octavia and I decided we’d start prepping for maternity leave now, before all hell breaks loose,”

Lexa laughed, “That’s a wonderful idea. Can they handle it? I’m assuming you picked Brittany and Santana?”

Clarke hummed, shifting closer to Lexa’s warmth, and the taller woman wrapped her arm around Clarke’s waist, “Mhm, we decided to each pick a manager,” she laughed, “sort of like our little protégés,”

“And you picked Brittany?”

“Yeah, how’d you guess?”

Lexa laughed, “You both are such silly, brilliant women. And Brittany balances Santana out,” Clarke hummed, laying a kiss to Lexa’s collar on a whim, “Do you think they could someday run the restaurant, and you could open another location?”

Clarke smiled, “I think it’s a little early, but maybe. It’s definitely an idea,” she kissed a little further up Lexa’s neck, “I’ll run it by Octavia sometime,” Lexa turned to meet Clarke’s wandering lips and they kissed for a few languid moments.

“Lexa, your mother,” Clarke started, processing her words before she spoke them.

“My mother?”

“Your mother's a dick,” The smaller woman sighed. Lexa snorted attractively, and Clarke smiled, but defended herself, “It’s true! After explaining my profession, and how I built a restaurant she denies loving, kept calling me a ‘cook’. Do you have any idea how degrading that is?” she seethed.

Lexa huffed a laugh and rolled to prop herself above Clarke, pinning her with an affectionate look, “My mother is a very insecure woman. All of their money comes from my mom, and Mother likes to project. It has nothing to do with you. In fact, I think they like you,” she smiled prettily.

Clarke raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “I could tell by the way your mother asked me if I was ‘used to being wealthy yet’? What the hell kind of question is that?”

Lexa laughed, kissing her jawline, “She just wants to make sure you’re not a gold digger. Mother had to go through the same thing from my grandparents, I’m told,”

“Oh good. I’m glad she asked then. I should have answered truthfully. I am, actually. And don’t talk about your parents' youth. It gives me the creeps to think they actually had sex,”

Lexa settled her weight on her forearms, kissing Clarke’s neck interestedly. The woman tilted her head to allow the lip movements as she spoke.

“Wait, you don’t think they still do it, do you?”

Lexa broke off, “Clarke, are you asking me if my parents are having sex, in my guest bedroom, under my roof?”

Clarke thought for a moment before flattening out, “Yes,”

“Probably,”

“What?!” Clarke whisper-yelped, and Lexa’s eyes flickered playfully.

“Well why not? We’re about to,”

“Oh, is that right?” Clarke drawled, winding her fingers through Lexa’s hair, smiling, “News to me,”

Lexa only smiled, her dick long since bulging her underwear, “Please?” she asked sweetly, trailing kisses everywhere she could reach.

“Lexa,” Clarke admonished lightly, “We both have work to pretend to go to in the morning,”

Lexa laughed and leaned to kiss the blone-haired woman deeply, rubbing her groin over Clarke’s. The room heated, and Clarke soon ensured they were both completely naked.

“Lexa,” she panted, “Can we do it in the bathroom?”

The brunette woman looked at her like she had suggested they have sex on the roof.

“What?”

“I’m serious. I’m afraid your mother is going to catch us again,”

“Clarke, please tell me you’re joking,” Lexa pleaded, gesturing towards her straining erection.

“I’m not. Bathroom or nothing,”

Before Lexa could seriously consider ‘nothing’, her lengthly member decided to be the head she chose with. With a hushed groan, she got out of bed and made her way to the bathroom, her erection slapping her in the stomach with every step.

“Okay,” Clarke breathed, shutting the door to the spacious bathroom. She turned to an unamused Lexa, and smiled. Lexa found herself annoyed and turned on, and she kissed Clarke as a reward for eliciting the confusing emotion. Some wonderful hands wandered on both sides, and Clarke found herself seated on the sink, Lexa kneeling between her thighs, mouth occupied. The brunette was clearly enjoying herself, and Clarke couldn’t pretend Lexa wasn’t amazing at this.

She came slowly with a spine-rattling shiver. Lexa stood, and Clarke reaching to clean Lexa’s mouth and chin with her own lips and tongue. The taller woman stepped to fit her hips between Clarke’s spread thighs, and aligned her hardness with Clarke’s soaked slit. Sliding inside the smaller woman was amazing, every time.

Clarke instantly clutched Lexa to her, her arms locking around the woman’s neck, who was bracing against the sink. Clarke’s restrained moan echoed in Lexa’s ear,

“Harder,” the woman requested, and Lexa obliged, her thrusts turning to ruts at she punctuated instead of rolled her hips. The women held on for dear life as they groaned and sweated against each other, pressing increasingly sloppy kisses to chests and shoulders.

“Lexa,” Clarke husked, “I’m,” she broke off, her breath stolen.

Lexa nodded, the crushing heat of Clarke so wonderful and wet, “Me too,”

"Clarke, I gotta pull out," 

A heavy blue-eyed glare shot up to Lexa's teasing green eyes, "Shut the fuck up," Clarke seethed, her nails pressing indents into Lexa's back. The standing woman laughed shortly before watching her dick disappear inside Clarke and moaning.

Clarke’s orgasm rolled up her body, her legs locking around Lexa, while the taller woman felt Clarke’s insides coil and clamp down on her dick. She arched and pushed for two more deep, necessary thrusts before spilling her seed inside the woman.

They collected their breath and continued to kiss easily, gratefully and quietly, Clarke’s fingers carding through Lexa’s chesnut curls. The taller woman wrapped her hands under Clarke and pulled, carrying the slight woman back into bed.

Clarke curled into Lexa’s arms, content. A familiar strangeness bubbled in her stomach, and it echoed in the heart, trying to escape through her vocal chords. But she felt Lexa relax as she slipped into sleep, and Clarke smiled, intent on following the woman.

“Mhm, I think this one should do nicely,” Lexa was smiling brightly, and Clarke raised her eyebrows.

“Lexa, that ring is 65 hundred dollars,” she said, her voice smoking and startled. They had been in and out of jewelers all day, and Lexa had done little but politely observe diamond after diamond. Clarke had started to think the brunette didn’t care enough to provide her input, but when Clarke had expressed her interest in a princess-cut white gold band, Lexa had interjected politely, thanking the salesman for his time.

When Clarke finally asked her about it, Lexa had gained a complicated look in her eyes, attempting a smile. She brushed it off and settled for saying, “I’m going to buy you only what I think you should have,”

Clarke wasn’t quite sure how to interpret that, but her heart softened considerably, and she let Lexa take the reigns. She simply followed the woman, casting an admiring eye over the glittering jewelry, deflecting the too-helpful salespeople.

But Lexa had stopped and stared at a ring, and the blonde knew it was perfect. It was a large, round-cut diamond, with a band of plain platinum, save for each side of the centerpiece forking to hold a rectangle cut diamond.

It was incredibly impressive, and still tasteful enough for Clarke to think it was beautiful without being too much. It would cost a small fortune, but she didn’t mind. She had that much in at least one of her accounts ready-to-access.

“Your ring size is what, 6? 6 ½?” Lexa asked accommodatingly, and Clarke frowned lightly.

“Lexa, this is too much,”

The beautiful green eyes pouted at her, and Clarke rolled her eyes, knowing Lexa was going to do what Lexa wanted to do, and the tall brunette smiled victoriously.

“I’m a 6, I think,” Clarke sighed. She relaxed as Lexa’s hand unconsciously went to the small of her back, and the taller woman caught the attention of a well-dressed worker.

“Yes, hello, good morning,” she eased, and the sales rep brightened, her eyes shimmering.

“Good morning ma’am, is there something I can show you?”

“Why, yes, I was wondering what size that ring there is?” Her well cared-for nail tapped the flawless glass, pointing. Her great, green eyes were sparkling in excitement, and she vented her shaking happiness by pressing Clarke’s back a small amount. Next to her, the woman gave a dry, humoring laugh.

The saleswoman smiled and began unlocking the case, “All the floor bands are a 6. For other sizes, we have to have it hand-crafted for you. The diamonds and sets are all the highest carat for showmanship,” she explained, “This one here, totaling the centerpiece and set, is 2.75 carats,”

“Wonderful,” Lexa felt her heart pick up as the ring was set on a black velvet sheet. She reached careful slim fingers out, and simultaneously picked up Clarke’s left hand. Without a word, Clarke allowed Lexa to place the artful ring on her finger, the cold slide of metal combined with the stormy look in those viridian eyes sending a shiver down her neck.

When the weight had settled, and the platinum grew warm, Lexa smiled lightly, “Perfect,” she whispered. Another moment passed where Clarke felt a flicker of a smile cross her face. Lexa finally dropped her hand and turned to the saleswoman, who seemed to carry a faint blush over her cheeks.

“I’d like to purchase this one,” she glided, her voice a warm, honey drenched hum, “Do you take Mastercard?”

“Oh, I’m so glad we stayed, Lexa! It’s beautiful,” Alexandrine exclaimed, and Clarke gave a weak smile. The woman had her hand in a vice-like grip, and she was being circled like a vulture by Declan.

“Thank you, Mom,” Lexa smoothed out.

“Well done,” her mother supplied tonelessly, finally stopping her shark-like movements to pat Lexa on the back.

“Thank you, Mother,” the woman replied before faux-casually moving on, “So, do you have your things together?”

“Of course, dear,” her mom said, “Thank you for such a wonderful time,”

Clarke felt her teeth ache from the smile she was forcing. The woman was just sickly sweet, the sugary grain of her actions irritating her skin and ears. But she nodded, shaking hands once more with Lexa’s mother and guiding the pair to the door.

“It was lovely,” the woman continued, “I had such a marvelous time, didn’t you, Declan? Your mother did too. And we’ll be in the area for the next week, Lexa, so don’t be surprised if we pop by to say hello,” she smiled largely, and left the apartment.

Lexa’s mouth barely refrained from dropping to smile as her mother followed her mom out, and shut the door behind her. The place was silent.

“Clarke,” Lexa finally managed, “Would you mind if I got myself a drink?”

“Not at all. Have one for me too,” the woman replied, collapsing onto the couch with a relieved sigh. She listened to Lexa pour herself a scotch before asking at large, “Why did that last part sound threatening?”

“Most likely because it was a threat,” Lexa sighed, fitting herself behind Clarke on the couch.

“So we just stay on DEFCON 5 for a week?”

“I forgot to tell you, I have to leave to Baltimore for a branch inspection,” Lexa winced, “So more accurately, you will have to be on red alert,”

Clarke groaned and rolled to bury her face in Lexa’s cleavage, and the drinking woman laughed. As the pair settled into the stillness, they each found the pleasant peace that being together brought them.

Lexa smiled, caressing Clarke’s back happily, her mind buzzing. 

Clarke was worried. No, she was more anxious than anything. Most accurately, she was restlessly afraid. People, as it were, are generally afraid of the unknown. And she was rapidly concerning herself with making her uncertainties known.

She was currently standing in an elevator at the downtown office of Ark12. The lights above her changed as the tiny room rose, and she used her thumb, middle, and pinky fingers to worry the ring she wore. It was a nervous habit she had immediately taken to doing. For a week.

“It suits you,” Lexa had said at the airport, walking away with a soothing smile, “You should wear it,”

And then she was gone, leaving to visit the Baltimore branch of Ark12. Clarke could have boxed her in the ear. What in the hell did that mean? Did Lexa really mean it? Did she want to marry her? Clarke didn’t know. What if Lexa did? All she knew was that lying awake in Lexa’s apartment, she could shut her eyes and picture Lexa’s face gazing down at her. She knew she would have said yes. If Lexa had asked her to marry her, she would have said yes.

But that was a week ago, and Clarke had woken up last night to feel Lexa crawl into bed behind her and promptly fall asleep. She had gone to sleep smiling, the warmth against her back soft and wonderful. Then, when she had woken up, Lexa had already gone to work.

The ninth floor pinged, and she stepped out of the elevator, tracing the familiar route to Lexa’s corner office. She found the appropriate door and pulled it open, entering the foyer office. Harper's desk and a few chairs made up the smallish room that led the way through Lexa’s office door, right behind the assistant’s desk.

Clarke frowned. Harper wasn’t at her desk. Clarke checked the time. It wasn’t the lunch hour; she definitely should be here. She pressed down on the handle of Lexa’s door and found it locked. Something settled in the depth of her stomach heavily.

She knocked on the door, calling, “Lexa? It’s Clarke,”

No answer. The woman was decidedly confused. Lexa never locked her door. She tried again, and frowned. Maybe she was at a showing, she decided, dropping her hand and stepping away.

She pursed her lips and turned around. As she passed Harper's desk, the door opened and shut hastily, Harper stepping through. Clarke raised an eyebrow, her keen blue eyes swift and calculating. An insidious sort of dread clawed at her stomach as she observed the normally perfectly arranged PA.

Her blouse had obviously been put back on in a hurry; it was wrinkled and she had missed a button, only one of the tails fully tucked into her skirt, which was also heavily creased. Harper's professional bun had several locks loose, and her breathing was elevated.

Clarke swallowed the lumped that had formed in her throat.

“Is Lexa in?” she tried, her voice a fine sand.

Harper cleared her throat tensely, looking everywhere but at Clarke, “M-Ms. Woods is currently unavailable,” she said, her tone curt and shaking.

Clarke felt her heart split in two. This couldn’t be real. But she nodded anyway, controlled in every movement.

“Right,” she responded, turning to exit. Her body moved automatically, and her hand drifted to her stomach. Harper undoubtedly had just been having sex. And there was only one person who was ever behind that door.

“Excuse me!” Clarke was snapped out of her whirling pool of misery when she heard the cry, and she turned to see Harper chasing her with a small brown envelope, “Uh, Ms. Griffin, Ms. Woods wanted me to uh, remind you that the company dinner party was tonight. Here are all the details,”

“Oh,” Clarke said numbly, “Okay,” she accepted the parcel and turned away from the woman, unable to even look her in the eye. That woman had been with Lexa. Lexa. Her Lexa. She had walked this carpet five minutes ago thinking about how she would marry her Lexa.

Her mind rifled through the smiling face of the brunette, teasing her, kissing her. Lexa stroking through her hair and listening attentively. Lexa scooping her into her arms to haul to the bedroom, laughing madly. Her sweeter than honey kisses as she slipped inside… No, she couldn’t think of that. Actually thinking about that would make her cry, and she knew it.

Clarke entered the elevator, and opened the thin envelope numbly. The thick paper slid into her hand and she vaguely recalled Lexa telling her about the party, and her nonchalance at confirming her plus one attendance. Clarke's heart was so still in her chest. But she had no proof that Lexa, what- cheated on her? It was impossible to cheat, Clarke thought crushingly, when you weren't even together. 

She tried to breathe, determined not to fall apart in an elevator.

At 11 weeks, Clarke was painfully aware she had officially entered into the 'visibly pregnant' zone. Lexa had been thrilled, as she was with everything that Clarke found herself annoyed with. In her haste to compensate Clarke for her overly-excited reaction, she had asked Clarke if she would be allowed to buy maternity clothing with her. Clarke had laughed, and conceded. 

As a result, Clarke found herself in low-wedges and a blouse that cinched below her breasts and flowed over her bulging stomach. Black skinny jeans completed her outfit, and she convinced herself people weren't staring. Of course, as soon as Lexa found her, every thought melted away except those about her baby's mother and the state of her monogamy. 

"Clarke," the executive smiled largely, the men standing with her looking startled to see the happy expression on the woman's face. Their wives, however, only noticed Clarke's stomach.

"Oh, Lexa! Are you both expecting?" one wife exclaimed wolfishly, her eyes craving gossip. 

Lexa seemed to want badly to kiss Clarke in greeting after a week of separation, but instead drew to her full height and wrapped an arm around the blonde, "Yes," she said proudly, her lips curling delightedly. The women positively swooned, while the men seemed to cheer and rock on their feet in congratulations. Lexa went on to introduce Clarke to those all around, and the woman did her absolute best to keep up with the conversations around her. 

But her heart screamed. 

'Do you love me? Do you sleep with other people? Tell me you love me for me.'

The more Lexa interacted, the stranger she grew to Clarke. Like the blonde was watching her for the first time. She saw the way her movements glittered with grace, her self-confidence outlined in every word. She was, by far, the most attractive woman Clarke had ever seen. 

A sentiment apparently shared by many women in her office. And so, it happened to be that Clarke needed to use the restroom and overheard a conversation that snuffed the small candle of hope in her chest. 

"Did you seen Ms. Woods' wife?" a girl in a stall said to her friends at the mirror, "She's beautiful!"

"Yeah, but she's definitely not her wife, Stace," a voice mocked, "It'd be damn shameful for Woods to be married if you know what I mean," a chorus of giggles met the remark, and Clarke thought she would be sick. 

"But wasn't she pregnant? And she had a ring!" the girl asked again, pausing to flush the toilet and exit. Over the taps, Clarke heard the reply.

"So? Doesn't mean I'm going to stop meeting up and giving Lexa everything I've got,"

The girls laughed.

"Lacie, you're such a slut,"

"I can't help it. You both know you'd trade for my place any day," the girl, Lacie, bragged. 

Anything else was mute to Clarke's roaring ears. It left like every part of her body had gone numb. Lexa. Half of her wanted to run out of the stall and come face to face with the woman Lexa was fucking on the side. Just to see what she looked like. But the other half wanted to cocoon herself in blankets and liquor until her heart forgot that Lexa didn't love her.

Until she could decide, Clarke new she had to leave. Her logical next steps were brought to the front of her mind in an instinct to simply survive. Exit stall. Wash hands. Dry hands. Leave restroom. Find Lexa? Harper is speaking to Clarke. Harper is saying Lexa had to leave to a meeting. Harper, who Lexa is also fucking. Clarke watches the woman's lips, and bites her own. Her mind spins with too many pornographic pictures of where Harper's lips may have been.

Did Harper find the spot on Lexa's stomach that brought her to crying fits of laughter when sucked? Did Harper grin and bear it when Lexa kissed her directly after eating thai food? Did Harper nip her ear lobe when Lexa purposefully fucked her too slowly?  Did Harper ever swallow Lexa's cum and taste the health of her diet? Did Lacie?

"Ms. Griffin?" 

Clarke rocked on her heels, focusing on the nervous-looking woman. 

"You can tell Ms. Woods I'm leaving," she said softly, turning and walking away. She fumbled with her purse and pulled her phone out, dialing rapidly as she tasted pennies in the back of her throat. The phone range twice and then,

"Hello?"

"O? I need your help. Do you still have Bell's truck?"

Lexa didn’t understand what she had done. It had been two weeks since she had seen or heard from Clarke. She had come home from the office party and a grueling after-party meeting to find a diamond ring on the counter and every indication that anyone had ever cohabitated with her, gone. Disappeared into thin air. It took two weeks for her to figure it out. Two weeks for her normally brilliant mind to tease out the straight to voicemail calls, the unresponsive knocks to her apartment, the untouched diamond ring in her kitchen, before it clicked.

Clarke had left her.

Clarke had left her, and taken their baby with her. As well as every ounce of joy from Lexa’s life. She had worked incessantly since the day, and today marked two weeks. Clarke didn’t want to stay with her, didn’t want to marry her, didn’t love her, hell, didn’t even like her.

It was a pain Lexa felt the way one feels a burn; all at once in a violent flash, and then a seemingly cruel, everlasting, crescendo. And as she stared at the innocuous diamond ring left on her countertop, it was a pain that brought her to her knees. And it was a pain that left her feeling hollow as she let tears slide down her temples as she lay on her guest bed, an empty 4^th glass of scotch on the table. She couldn't bear to remind herself of the perfume on Clarke's side of their bed. 

Over the next week, she left her apartment simply because everywhere she looked, Clarke had given her a beautiful, crushing memory to dwell on. She worked harder than she had in her entire life. Until she couldn’t see straight and her fingers ached.

Harper was avoiding her, and she knew then that maybe she wasn’t keeping her act together convincingly enough. It didn’t matter, though.

In some fit of madness, she hadn’t stopped work on the house. The house she had renovated, basement to attic, for Clarke and the baby. Interior decorators were answered, marble suppliers were chosen and next-day service was delivered. On a Friday, it was finished. The house was finished. The house Lexa was going to ask Clarke to make their house.

But now it would sit, empty. Some part of her couldn’t bear to sell it, and another suggested she leave the key for Clarke to have. She had dumped almost a million dollars into the house, and she had no desire to even look at it.

‘Is it insane to want to lose the key?’

And so it left her to stare at two boxes. Each could fit in the palm of her hand. A velvet box, and a flat box. Black. Nondescript. Bland. No one could know that the love of her life was embodied in that squareish velvet box; closed and cut off from the brilliance inside. And the casual observer would never imagine the rectangle to hold the key to her love for her supposed to be future family.

When she wasn’t thinking of Clarke, Lexa thought of their baby. She was moving in on three and a half weeks without her family. Clarke had entered her second trimester without her.

And still, Lexa didn’t understand.

The blinking kitchen light read 3:34, and the motionless lump under the covers slept soundly. Suddenly, Lexa’s eyes flew open at the ringing of her cellphone and she groaned, rolling over to check the time. Noticing the hour, she groaned once more.

If this was another drunk call from Anya, her wrath would be sure and swift. She had a manager’s meeting in the morning, and she had spent the afternoon at the bottom of a bottle of scotch. Octavia’s smiling face grinned at her widely as and Lexa frowned deeply, answering the call immediately.

“Hello?” her voice graveled, thick with sleep.

“Lexa?!”

The woman sat bolt upright in bed, her eyes wide, sleep a forgotten thought, “Octavia? What’s wrong?”

“Lexa! Quick, Clarke’s apartment caught fire, and the idiot -“

The brunette didn’t hear what was after that, she jumped out of bed and into jeans and a jacket. No socks, just trainer, as she grabbed her keys and took the stairs two at a time to reach her car.

“-tried to make sure her neighbors were out before she left,”

“Octavia, I’m coming,” Lexa was panicking, but her tone was steady, and Octavia breathed,

“Thank God. Raven, the kids, and I are visiting her mother, Ontari's out west, and Abby isn’t picking up. The apartment administration called me because I’m her emergency contact,”

“I’ll call you back when I get there,” Lexa told the woman, who reluctantly agreed, and hung up. Her entire being was on high alert, her heart in her stomach, and she started to sweat in panic.

A fire? Clarke lived on the top of a four-story walk up. Heat rises. So does smoke. As Lexa neared Clarke’s apartment complex her stomach clenched in dread. The smokestack plume was enormous, and Lexa could see the flashing lights of emergency service vehicles already. Less than five minutes, and two blown traffic lights later, her Mercedes screeched to a halt and she threw the door open, not thinking to even shut it again in her frenzy.

“Clarke?” She shouted, her green eyes panicking over the scared faces of Clarke’s neighbors and curious late night by-standers.

Please, God, be okay. Her throat was closing, and her heartbeat sent adrenaline to ever nerve of her body. She shouldered past the standing people and searched the milling firemen for any sign. The building was in ruins. The paint was peeling and scorched, with an entire side that was blackened and ashy. Its entrance was completely burnt, and Lexa wanted to scream.

“Clarke?” She called, frantic.

“Whoa, lady,” a technician caught her attention, “You lookin’ for someone who lived here?”

“Yes!” she cried with desperation, “Her name is Clarke Griffin, apartment 405, she’s got blonde hair and blue eyes,” she was edging hysterical, “She’s 15 weeks pregnant, and she probably caused you the most trouble,”

The man scratched his head, “You said she’s pregnant?”

“Yes,” Lexa’s hands were clasped, in prayer or from begging, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that the man’s eyes lit up in recognition, and she nearly wept.

“Yeah, I think I know ‘er, come on over,” he gestured to the dividing tape between the emergency service worker and pedestrians, and Lexa quickly ducked it, her heart jackhammering. He led her to one of a couple of ambulances, and she rounded it, desperate to see the back.

Clarke sat on the step into the truck, a little boy and his family sharing the space. Her hands and face were lightly dusted with ash, and she was speaking quietly to the child.

“Clarke!” Lexa called, her heart beating erratically in her relief. She called to the soot-covered woman, and Clarke instantly jerked, identifying the beautiful tones. Lexa looked terrible, panic and terror written all over her face, and Clarke felt her heart jump at the sight of the gorgeous brunette. She was so happy to see her.

Lexa immediately went to the woman who had stood, and opened her arms. Clarke instantly met the beautiful woman halfway and embraced her fiercely. And Lexa didn’t care if Clarke hated her. She hugged her hard, and only released to place desperate, grateful kisses to Clarke’s hair, neck, shoulder, and cheek.

Lexa ran her hands over every curve and line on the woman, making sure nothing was harmed, repeatedly asking if she was okay, speaking quickly about Octavia and something about traffic. In the next moment, she was kneeling to lay her hands and lips on Clarke’s stomach, almost whimpering. Clarke’s womb was much larger. Their daughter had grown so much, and she had missed it.

“How are you, sweet pea? Hm? Are you alright?” She set her hands on either side of her baby, “It’s okay. It’s okay now. Mama's here, and Mommy’s fine. God, I missed you,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against Clarke’s distended stomach, and feeling the woman thread her hands through Lexa’s hair comfortingly. She breathed deeply, standing and wrapping her arms around the smaller woman protectively.

“Lexa,” Clarke cooed, “It’s fine. We’re fine,” she ran her hands across Lexa’s shoulders and lightly scratched between her shoulder blades, speaking into Lexa’s neck. She couldn’t imagine how frightened she would have been if the situation were reversed, so she allowed herself to sink back into the roles they used to have. The taller woman leaned backwards, her relief tangible in her softening hold on Clarke.

“I’m not hurt, and neither is the baby, Lexa,” she arched to make stunning green eye contact with the woman and raised her eyebrows, persuading, “Calm down,”

Lexa sighed, laying another kiss to Clarke’s forehead, wishing she could kiss her lips.

“Right,” she breathed, holding Clarke around the waist with one arm and smoothing a hand over Clarke’s belly with the other. It felt so good to hold Clarke, and she was selfish enough to stay in the position. Clarke merely held her back, listening to the uneven pounding of Lexa’s strong heart start to steady.

“Will you stay with me?” Lexa asked eventually, and Clarke only nodded. Lexa felt the motion and detached herself, her hand lingering over Clarke’s belly, a desperate love flickering in her eyes.

Thankfully, her car was where she had left it, and Clarke had a private laugh over Lexa’s panic. The ride home was quiet, and Clarke couldn’t help but run her eyes over Lexa. The brunette really did look haggard. Unbraided hair, and she looked a little thinner.

When the pair arrived back at Lexa’s apartment, Clarke had swallowed a melancholic sigh. She had been happiest here. Her throat hitched as she spotted a mostly empty bottle of scotch on the coffee table sitting next to two oddly shaped boxes and – oh – a framed photo of her first sonogram.

“You know where the towels are,” Lexa said quietly, her fingers fiddling with her keys. Clarke bit her lip and nodded, her middle, pinky, and thumb fingers fidgeting together. It was a ridiculous habit. She’s been without the ring for longer than she had it, but the tic wouldn’t leave.

She left to the master bathroom, and she flexed her jaw. It was clear Lexa hadn’t occupied this space in a long time. The bed was made with the sheets folded over the top of the duvet. Her memory ran a playful argument she and Lexa had fought over one day through her mind; Lexa insisted the duvet covered the entire bed, pillows and all, while Clarke was adamant the sheet folded down. To show off the color scheme.

And there were the sheets, their silk against the top layer. She shook her head. Lexa’s apartment was confusing her. Maybe she should have stayed at Octavia’s empty house.

Clarke felt herself sigh as the heated Jetstream of water hit her face and front. Her hair soaked and she watched as soot ran from her body down the drain. She washed herself in Lexa, and her heart filled with fizzing relief as the scent of the woman’s soaps left her feeling protected and clean.

When she was spotless, she stepped out and toweled off. She noticed some clothes set out on the large bed and her chest gave a pained twang. Why was Lexa being so sweet? Because she was still trying to care for her baby? No. Clarke knew that wasn’t it.

She was wide awake when she found the living room again the bottle, picture, and boxes were gone. Lexa was seated on the ottoman, her posture taut as a wire. Her hands were clasped and Clarke couldn’t see past the woman’s mahogany curls. Carefully, she sat adjacent to Lexa on the couch.

Lexa breathed deeply in the stillness, and her body burned. This might be her only chance. She had to know. Had to at least try. She locked eyes with Clarke’s, and the woman was startled by the intensity in the forest green stare.

“Why did you leave me?” Lexa asked, her voice thick in her grief. Clarke noted that she didn’t ask why she left. Lexa had asked why she left her.

“You really want to do this now?” Clarke asked, her mental walls trying to build. To remember all the reasons she did leave. But Lexa’s liquid green eyes only bore into her pleadingly and nodded.

“I don’t know if I’ll be brave enough to ask you in the morning,”

Clarke took a strong breath and shook her head, “I couldn’t live with someone like you, Lexa,” the blonde said tightly.

Lexa felt her heart twist, “O-oh. And why not?”

“You know why,” was the icy reply.

“I don’t understand!” her misery was turning to confusion and frustration at Clarke’s unwillingness to just answer her, “Didn’t I make you happy?”

For some reason, Clarke glared at her fiercely, “Of course you did! That’s why it hurt so much,”

Lexa blinked, frowning, “Why what hurt?”

“Stop acting so innocent!” Clarke’s voice ratcheted up. Lexa was playing the martyr and she was almost out of patience.

“I don’t know what I did, Clarke!” Lexa cried, her throat stressed, “I’ve been sitting in my apartment for almost a month staring at a ring! And driving myself crazy wondering about you and our daughter!”

“How can you lie to me?” Clarke almost screamed, on her feet. Her frustration and heartbreak burst out of her, and the bleeding lava of her love flowed out, hurtful and hot, “I heard about Lacie! And everything that came with it. I trusted you! I shared every piece of my life with you. Lexa, I loved you. And then you have your fucking mistress invite me to a party filled with women who want- and do- fuck you?! And that’s honestly a nice touch, Lexa, screwing your secretary. I would never have even suspected you to be so unoriginal,” Lexa sat, slack jawed and horrified as Clarke spoke.

“You made me think – I thought we were together! I know we’d never even talked about it, and that’s my own stupid fault. But the way we – When we,” she was quickly losing steam, and her chest only felt empty instead of better.

“And I had to come to your office party to find out that I was some tragic idiot,” she said, putting a hand to her stomach and another to her face, dashing away an escaped tear, “It was a good job, though, fucking Harper and I both in one afternoon. At least tell me you felt bad about it? I think you owe me that,”

Lexa’s entire body had frozen. Then, she felt like water set to boil. Slowly, heat activated her limbs and brain until she could function.

“Clarke,” she started, her voice clear and carrying. The smaller woman braced herself with a breath. Lexa carefully moved with purpose, “Clarke, I never did any of those things,”

She said it with such conviction, Clarke actually felt her heart waver. But Lexa had glimpsed the light at the end of a tunnel, and she was going to chase it, “I have not a damn clue as to what you’re talking about. You think I slept with my assistant? My employees? After all the things I’ve done to try to prove to you I’m worth your time? You think I’d throw away everything I’d been trying so hard to build with you just to what – get my dick wet?”

Clarke felt her heart miss a beat at Lexa’s burning gaze.

“I wanted to build a family with you. I had a house made for us. I was going to ask you to marry me and live in it. And you think I was fucking other people?” Suddenly, she felt a terrible, burning, anger ball into her chest.

“You were afraid I was sleeping around, even when you never even asked me about it? I can’t believe you’d think so little of me. This doesn’t make any sense!”

Clarke listened carefully, trepidation and the smallest drop of hope filtering throughout her body. Her blue gaze sharpened.

“Lexa, where were you the day after you got back from Baltimore?”

The tall brunette halted, thinking, “I had a district meeting to go over the report I collected there of course. It lasted all day,”

Clarke felt her stomach bottom out, “I came to your office that day,” she said slowly, and Lexa’s face twisted her confusion, “And when I got there, Harper wasn’t at her desk, and your door was locked,”

Lexa frowned, “Locked?”

Clarke nodded, “And when I turned to leave, Harper came out, freshly fucked and half undressed, and told me you weren’t ‘available’. The next thing I know, she’s chasing me down the hall and handing me an envelope with an invitation inside, saying it’s from you. I get there, and I hear a bunch of girls in the bathroom talking about how we're not together even though you knocked me up, and Lacie's 'giving you her all,"

Lexa’s lips were parted, and she stared hard back at Clarke, “Harper is… the only other person who has a key to my office. Clarke, Lacie is an intern. I have to meet with all of them once a week to mentor them. It's a 5 person meeting,"

The blonde-haired woman looked hopefully up to the confused green eyes, “You didn’t tell Harper to do that?”

Lexa drew slightly closer, “No,”

Clarke took a step closer, entering Lexa’s personal space, “And you didn’t cheat on me?”

Lexa allowed a ghost of a smile to touch her lips, “Never,” she said simply.

“Okay,” the shorter woman breathed, and their lips came together.

Their first kiss in over a month was tender and sweet. Lexa tilted Clarke’s head to deepen it gently. Affection, reassurance, and a firework of love simmered and flared in Lexa’s heart, with Clarke’s doing a similar burning. The two separated, and Clarke turned her body slightly so Lexa could press more fully into her.

“You realize I’m in love with you, right?” Her voice was a rasp, and Lexa laughed from where she was pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Yes,” she said softly, bringing Clarke’s face back to hers, “I do. And do you realize that I want to marry you? To make a family with you?” Her soft green eyes were incredibly serious, and she laid a hand over the curve of Clarke’s 15-week stomach.

“Yes,” the smaller woman smiled. She inclined her head and kissed Lexa once more, their small hums of satisfaction swallowed by the other. It had been much, much too long.

Clarke pulled her blonde head away and stared passionately into Lexa’s soft eyes, “Lexa, will you make love to me?”

The brunette smiled, winking, “I thought you’d never ask,”

They kissed their way to the bed, their clothing removed in deft capability by a sure-handed Lexa. The taller woman was already throbbing with need by the time Clarke’s soft white skin blended gorgeously with the silk grey sheets. Lexa was pulled on top of the woman, and they kissed unhurriedly yet passionately.

Lexa had so terribly missed this woman, and she told Clarke so in passes of her tongue and caresses of her hands. She separated from Clarke and took a long look at her, allowing Clarke the same luxury.

The woman palmed her love’s stomach in languorous circles.

“You are so beautiful,” she whispered seriously, and Clarke smiled, “Clarke, I can’t tell you how much I love you,”

They kissed. Sometime undecided, Lexa shifted and Clarke parted her legs, waiting to feel Lexa settle on top of her. The woman gave a low hum, kissing Clarke’s neck and sweeping her hair away. Her erection was hot and straining, and Clarke was soaking wet, ready and aching to be filled.

Lexa rocked her hips after she had propped up on her hands, sliding her length through Clarke’s heated folds as the other woman stared up at her lovingly.

“Lexa,” Clarke murmured, simply because she could.

And then Lexa found the soft spot on the woman’s lovely wetness and pushed inside. Oh, she was tight. Clarke felt her pussy fill and she moaned. God, how she missed this. Being so connected to Lexa. But now, it was even better.

Once her length was all the way inside, Lexa lowered to lay deep, loving kisses on the woman’s mouth, and Clarke felt her insides throb around Lexa’s heavy shaft.

Lexa withdrew and pushed back in, and Clarke felt the breath drive out of her, her hands curling in Lexa’s hair. She was embarrassingly close to orgasm, but she couldn’t find the will to care.

The slow, easy and wonderful pace Lexa set filled her heart, and Clarke felt a high cloud her head. She came in a stifled moan of release, and Lexa marveled at how lovely the golden-headed woman was.

They made love and curled together with whispers of love and gratitude on their lips. Plead apologizes from both sides, and soothing forgiveness echoed in the cockles of their hearts.

When they fell asleep, the sun was well woken, and Clarke’s back was pressed against Lexa’s front, an arm curled around her waist. Clarke’s relaxed hand rested over Lexa’s, a sparkling diamond ring on her finger.

“What a fucking bitch,” Clarke growled in the car. Lexa’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“I’m inclined to agree with you,” she muttered darkly.

Lexa’s blonde-haired fiancée laughed.

“I don’t usually condone revenge, but in this case, I’m going to play the good wife and support you 100% percent,”

The brunette laughed and rolled her eyes, “Oh thank you, darling,”

“Mhm, and after you've fired Harper for having terrible decision making skills and being a spineless slut who fucks people in your office, I might be persuaded into going down on you,”

Lexa seemed a little bit more than interested in that, “Really?”

Clarke nodded, checking her phone, “Sure,”

“How romantic. Could you not sound so much like it’s a favor?”

“It is a favor, though,”

Lexa laughed, “How about this, then? One minute of blow job, for one minute of backrub?”

Clarke frowned, putting her phone away, “I’m pregnant. My hormones are more important than yours,”

“Two minutes of backrub?”

“Deal,” Clarke finalized, her eyes twinkling. Lexa laughed and kept driving. Clarke shifted and rubbed her stomach contentedly, “Hm, Lex, I like this neighborhood,”

The woman smiled, “I do too. It’s private, but still with neighbors, though I did see this terribly annoying family riding on a 3 person tandem bicycle,” she shuddered, “Promise me we’ll never be that family,”

Clarke laughed, “Right, I’ll cancel our subscription to Better Homes and Gnomes then. Hopefully those people aren’t our neighbors,”

Lexa turned into a moderately long driveway, the paving circling around a fountain in the front, and she parked behind the large moving truck. The back was almost empty and she nodded, satisfied.

“Did you have it painted?” Clarke wondered, looking at the deep taupe color covering the large front’s two incredibly tall stories.

“I did,” she replied, “I also had them put in the stone edging. It ups the market value significantly,”

Clarke sighed, and Lexa laughed, “Come on, I had the kitchen built for you,”

The blonde woman found a grin for that, and Lexa took her by the hand, leading her inside. It was absolutely beautiful, and more homey than Clarke would have pictured. Her worst fear had been that Lexa would make their home a carbon copy of the cold museum of her parent’s house, but this was perfect. Hardwood floors stained dark, with a theme of rich, deep, cherry wood throughout. Neutral tones prevailed, and everything from the oversized couches to the large fireplace said ‘warm’.

The kitchen was by far Clarke’s favorite room in the house, and she ran a hand over the black marble countertops, admiring the flawless electric stovetop. Under the counters, Lexa had supplied her with all the bells and whistles, every cooking machine imaginable ready to be used. The large island in the middle could easily have held a full sized cow on it, and was home to a wine aerator among other things.

Lexa stood in the open entryway, her arms folded as she watched her lover inspect the kitchen. She was only slightly nervous.

“I figured you’d like to choose your own set of knives, as well as the China,” she explained preemptively. She moved and sat at the kitchen table on the other side of the room, “And of course, anything you don’t like can be redone, though it may take a few days,” she amended, “Do you like it?”

Clarke sent her a cool glance.

“Lexa,” she started, “This is beautiful. I’m absolutely in love with it,” she smiled gently, “Thank you,”

Lexa smiled delightedly, “You’re welcome, my love,”

Clarke continued to peruse her new workspace, and she tinkered with the stove and refrigerator. She noticed the large, overhead vent stretched a little wide, and she experimentally lifted a section of counter. It gave way and automatically pressed flush with the wall, revealing an honest to God grill.

She whirled to Lexa, who smirked. Clarke laughed and matched the expression. She crossed to lay a grateful kiss to Lexa’s lips, and she grinned wickedly.

“I fucking love this kitchen, Lexa,” she breathed, “Now show me the bedroom, and I’m going to pretend you gave me a 30 minute backrub,”

“Lexa,”

A sleepy groan.

“L-e-x-a,”

The brunette woman whined and rolled over, and Clarke bit her lip. She tried one more time and reached to push gently at Lexa’s shoulder, “Lexa, honey,”

The woman roused herself from a dead sleep and groaned, “’ark,” she rumbled sleepily, moved to lie on her back again, her eyes almost instantly closing.

“Lexa, I want red velvet cupcakes,” Clarke plead, her voice desperate. Her fiancée woke for the final time with a scrunch of her face and a squint.

“What?”

“With wasabi,”

“You what?”

Clarke was sitting up, and she tugged at Lexa’s tshirt until the woman sat up with her, kissing her sleep goodbye. She covered her mouth to yawn monumentally, frowning at the woman.

“I really, really want red velvet cupcakes and wasabi. Ooo, maybe for icing, oh that sounds amazing,” Clarke was chanting, her eyes pleading.

“And you’re asking me to find this impossibly disgusting cupcake at,” she looked, “2 in the morning?”

“No, only the ingredients!”

“You’re serious? You’ve been eating nothing but butterscotch and tacos for a month, and this is what you want now?”

Clarke only turned innocent eyes on her and reached to her ballooned stomach. Lexa made a small ‘tch’ sound and yawned again.

“Alright, alright. I’m going,” she gingerly sigh and climbed out of bed. Exhaustion tried tugging her back to the wonderfully soft mattress, but she persevered. Clarke grinned.

“You chose this,” she reminded Lexa lowly, admiring the wonderfully feminine curves of her fiancée in jeans.

“Mm. You must have been at a very different lunch than me,” Lexa deadpanned.

“And you chose to say yes,” Clarke countered smugly.

Lexa shot her a raised droll eyebrow as she donned a jacket, “And what option did I have? A beautiful woman bought me lunch and promised me lots of unprotected sex. I don’t call that a choice, my love,”

“Don’t forget the wasabi,” the woman still lying in bed smirked, and Lexa smiled, leaning over the bed for a kiss.

“I won’t,”

“I love you,” Clarke comforted, and the standing brunette rolled her eyes, walking to the door.

“You owe me a baby,” she threatened lightly, and Clarke’s laugh followed her through her trip.

“I might actually be in love with her,” Lexa sighed, bringing her glass to her lips.

Clarke shorted out a laugh, “Who knew that I spent months and months sleeping with you, living with you, cooking your food and folding your clothes, only to now discover that all I had to really do was color code your memos?”

Lexa shrugged, “I should have told you earlier, darling, I admit. How attached are you to that ring?”

“Oh this old thing?” Clarke raised an eyebrow, “Not particularly. I only have it to signify my lifetime’s love and commitment to the most ridiculous woman I know,”

Lexa grinned, “Anyway, I can’t believe I went all this time without her. My entire week ran smoother than I can ever remember it being,”

“Is she cute?”

Lexa laughed, “What?”

“Tris,” Clarke said, cutting another piece of her dinner, “Is she cute?”

Lexa raised an eyebrow, “I suppose. She’s almost the size of a child though. And she wears glasses,”

“Lexa, you wear glasses,” Clarke drawled, amused.

“I wear contacts. Not the point,” she smiled. Clarke tilted her head, about to reply when their waitress came to refill their drinks. Lexa thanked the girl and she disappeared again.

“What about her?” Clarke asked interestedly. Lexa’s movements slowed somewhat, and Clarke smothered a grin.

“I’m not sure what you’re asking, darling,”

“Do you think our waitress is cute?” Clarke inquired with a challenge in her eye.

“Well,” Lexa thought, trying desperately not to back herself into a corner, “She’s half my age,”

“Stop trying to make me feel old,” Clarke told her, “And she is not. Just tell me. Do you think she’s cute?”

Lexa swallowed her filet with care, “She isn’t unattractive, no. Though I don’t think she’s my type,”

Clarke bit her lip to keep from laughing. Her fiancée was trying hopelessly to play it cool, and failing in a spectacularly adorable fashion, “I see,” the blonde woman hummed.

Lexa relaxed. ‘I could be in the Matrix, with that bullet dodging.’

“What about my sister?”

She almost choked on her own air, and gave a great shudder not to show her surprise. Lexa glanced at Clarke’s cool, calculating face, her blue eyes slightly narrowed in consideration. The brunette set her silverware on her plate gently, sending her own stare back at the woman.

“Clarke,” she began, “I’m not sure why you’re all of a sudden so interested in my tastes, but I’ll try to head off the trap you’re setting,” she glared lightly, and Clarke felt a corner of her lips twitch, “I’m engaged, not blind. Yes, I can see other attractive features of females, but it doesn’t mean I’m looking. Before you commence your questioning, I’d like to put it into the record that it doesn’t matter what I think of them, you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen,”

She paused, and Clarke’s eyes were softer than when she started. Lexa let herself smirk.

“That, and you’ve got a world class vagina,” she purred.

The blue-eyed woman laughed loudly, and twisted her head to ensure none of their pleasantly dining neighbors had heard her lovely, crude, fiancée’s remark.

“Good answer,” she hummed, and Lexa cheerfully resumed her dinner. After their meal, the women left and Lexa led Clarke by the hand to walk around in the chilly winter air and talk. They chatted easily about their days and thoughts, and made each other laugh all the while.

Lexa’s cellphone went off and she answered it. Clarke raised her eyebrows at the audible shouting from the speaker, and Lexa’s recoil at the volume.

“Yes, Mama, I’m sorry. No, she did not go into labor,” Clarke started to laugh and Lexa sent her a glare, still on the phone, “Well, you’ll have to ask her where her phone is- No. Yes,” her eyes went a little wider, “Of course I told her about lunch with Ontari and Roan tomorrow; she’s very excited,”

Clarke raised a single, unimpressed eyebrow and Lexa grimaced, listening.

“No, I’m not, she-“ Lexa’s voice failed and she took the phone from her ear, offering it to the now-sulking woman next to her, “Clarke,” she said sweetly, “Your mother would like to speak to you,”

Clarke groaned and proceeded to verbally spar with Abigail Griffin for the next thirty minutes while Lexa looked interestedly into the passing shop windows. When she had finally gotten herself rid of her suffocatingly excited mother, she glared at Lexa.

“Why did you tell her I’d be there?”

“Because you will be, darling,” Lexa smiled.

“And if I didn’t want to go?”

“Then you’d find yourself in the same boat as Roan, Ontari, and myself,”

Clarke groaned, handing the phone back, “You know it’s just a ploy to pressure Ontari into getting pregnant, and us into getting married sooner,”

“I’m fully aware,” Lexa said dryly.

“Maybe we should let our mothers meet, and they can cage-fight out when and how they want us to live our lives,” Clarke offered. Lexa laughed.

“I think Abby would win, and we’d find ourselves being married in the closest open-late trailer park she could find,”

“True,” Clarke hummed, “Which could be kind of fun?”

Lexa shot her a withering look, and Clarke gave a snickering sort of laugh.

“What? I’d rather save myself from the months of worrying over if the table we seat your parents at will mind that the other 3 chairs are empty to make room for their egos,”

Lexa laughed loudly and sighed, “They’re not that bad,”

“Your mother called me fat,”

“Mother was only saying she thought you were bigger than she remembered you being,”

“Of course I’m bigger! I’m pregnant!”

“Mother doesn’t know that, honey,”

Clarke huffed.

Clarke groaned, her eyes opening blearily. She was falling asleep, and the almost-uncomfortable weight of Lexa's head on her leg told her the woman was completely asleep. The blonde blinked rapidly, frowning at the TV. She turned to her gently snuffling fiancée and poked her gently in the shoulder. 

"Lex?" she gruffed, and cleared her throat, "Lexa,"

The brunette shifted and rolled onto her back, her face burying into Clarke's pregnant stomach. 

"Lexa, did you still want to mess around?"

Clarke watched, amused beyond words, as the green eyes opened and Lexa huffed, blinking. 

"Yeah," she grunted, shoving herself upright, eyes closing once more. 

Clarke nodded and heaved herself up, circling the coffee table to leave. She glanced at her future wife with a smirk, "So I guess you just don't want to do it then, huh?" 

"No!" Lexa nearly jumped from the couch, "No, I do!" 

Clarke laughed, "Right. Okay, I'm going to get ready for bed,"

"Right," the brunette answered with a deep breath, "I'll fix the coffee for the morning,"

20 minutes later, Clarke finally switched off the bathroom light after her nightly moisturizing routine on her stomach, to find Lexa passed out on their bed. She smiled slightly at Lexa's tshirt and boxers. The blonde climbed in bed and shut the lamp off, settling in. 

"Oh my God, you were just going to let me sleep?" Lexa's voice huffed in the dark. Clarke full-out laughed. 

"What, you still want to get it on?" 

Lexa paused. 

"Yes," 

"Well okay then," Clarke curled seductively, before blinking, "Shit! I forgot to call Dani!"

Lexa groaned as the blonde made to get out of bed, "Who the fuck is Dani?"

"Dani's my meat girl," Clarke replied absently. 

Lexa grumped in bed, "Better not be getting your meat from some other girl... Ow!" 

“Lexa. No,”

“But Clarke,” the woman whined. Yes, whined.

“No,”

“Fine, fine,” Lexa sighed, rolling onto her back, trying not to let her straining erection distract her. But it was much too late for that. For whatever reason, the more pregnant her fiancée grew, the more beautiful Lexa thought her. Carrying their baby, Lexa fell even deeper in love with Clarke every day. This particular day, love had been on her mind for the majority of it.

She let out a very quiet exhalation and slipped a hand under the sheets.

“Lexa!”

“What?” She exploded, frustrated.

“What are you, 15?!” Clarke admonished, “If you really have to do that, do it in the bathroom or something,”

“Darling, it’s been a week,” Lexa groaned, covering her eyes with a forearm, “I can’t believe it. We’re not even married yet, and the sex has already stopped,”

“Lexa,” Clarke rolled and glared at her fiancée, “I am unbelievably horny right now,”

“Oh, really?” Lexa smiled in brilliant hopefulness, and the blue eyes glared at her even more fiercely.

“Yes,” the woman practically snapped, “But my breasts are ridiculously tender, and I could probably scratch a mirror with my nipples, they’re so hard. My back aches, and my ankles feel swollen. In addition to all of that, I refuse to be on top again, because I’m exhausted. My feet hurt, and I’m not going to get up to let you behind me. My uterus is crushing me, and my vagina feels incredibly shallow, so I doubt I could take you anyway,”

She pulled in a deep, long suffering breath, watching as Lexa’s dark-covered face seemed only to look impressed.

“I’m over the moon that you still think I’m sexy enough to sleep with in my third trimester, baby, I am. And I miss having regular sex, so don’t you dare compare us to the vanilla couples who have 2.5 kids and a minivan,” Somewhere in her passionate speech, she had crawled to Lexa, who propped up on her elbow. Clarke reached to snatch the beautiful woman’s face in her palm, angling the rose red lips up to her own.

“You and I are animals in bed. I just so happen to be a little handicapped at the moment, seeing as there’s an entire fucking person inside of me. I’m horny, but the only thing in the world I want right now is a full night of sleep without needing to pee, or cramping up like an Olympic sprinter. So no, Lexa. Suffer a couple more nights along side me, or work it out in the bathroom,” Clarke huffed, laying a frustrated kiss to Lexa’s smiling lips.

“Anything else?” Lexa asked lightly, turning and lifting the covers to allow Clarke to curve her back into her. The woman grumbled, situating herself in an futile attempt to get comfortable.

“I want women to quit touching my stomach,” she complained darkly. Lexa wisely held her laugh in when Clarke contradictorily pulled Lexa’s free arm over to rest on her stomach protectively.

“I’ll get right on that in the morning, darling,” Lexa hummed, kissing the light honeyed hair.

“Thanks,” Clarke shorted a laugh.

“I’ve never approved, you know. I think it’s a bit unfair,” the brunette mused, “So many people rub your stomach and give you their congratulations, but not a single person has rubbed my penis and told me ‘good job’. It just seems a bit one sided,”

Clarke was laughing before Lexa finished, and she twisted to invite Lexa in for a well-earned kiss.

“If someone is rubbing your dick who’s not me, be sure to let me know, okay?”

“You’ll be the first, my love,”

“What about her last name?” Lexa wondered absently, her hands cupping handfuls of warm water to pour over Clarke’s enormous stomach. Privately, she thought the size description was accurate, but she’d be sleeping alone until the baby came if she admitted it.

“You don’t think agreeing on her first name is more of a concern?” Clarke hummed, absolutely loving Lexa’s attentions from behind her while she relaxed in the bath.

“Equally concerning, I think,” Lexa chuckled.

“I want her to be a Woods,” the at-ease woman eventually said.

“Really?”

Clarke smiled at the ecstatic nature of her fiancée’s tone behind her. Privately, she thought Lexa had been ridiculous through the entire pregnancy, but she’d be sleeping with a very upset Lexa if she admitted it.

“Of course,”

“We could name her after my mom?” Clarke suggested, massaging her back with one hand, a set of tongs in the other. She felt like a house. A much, much, much too large house.

“While I’m sure Abby would be overjoyed by that, I don’t think it’s such a good idea,” Lexa hummed, her focus on the myriad of papers before her at the kitchen’s bar.

“Why not?” Clarke asked, fixing the stovetop to where she could cross to Lexa in concentration.

“Because,” the working woman replied, heavily distracted, “I wouldn’t want the next ones to feel they aren’t special enough to be named after family members,”

Clarke felt herself freeze and immediately thaw, a smile rolling across her face. Happiness warming her spine, she moved to Lexa’s side.

“The next ones?” she prompted her voice low in Lexa’s ear.

Lexa gave a small start, finally giving all of her attention to her fiancée, “Well, if you wanted, I suppose,”

Clarke hummed, taking Lexa’s reading glasses off and brining her face closer to her own, “You sure you’re not just scared of the day I make you wear a condom?”

Lexa burst into a laugh and turned her body to pull Clarke into her. She laid a kiss to the blonde haired woman and smirked, “It’s a valid concern, yes. But I always pictured more than just one,” she clarified.

Clarke smiled, “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, but I think so too. Definitely more than one. I’d be a lot different if I didn’t have Ontari,”

Lexa nodded, “And I’d always wanted a sibling as a kid. Besides, if there’s more than one, we won’t have to be Lila's only playmates,”

“Oo, I like Lila a lot,”

“So do I,” Lexa smiled.

Raven couldn’t control herself. She laughed long and hard, and Clarke shot her a sweating, weary glare. Lexa merely sighed from where she was seated, holding Clarke’s hand. Octavia seemed to be trying to keep her act together, but her hysterical wife was making it difficult.

“You- you-,” Raven was choking, trying to speak and laugh, “You mean you came so hard, you induced labor?” She dissolved in more laughter, and Octavia bit her lip, “God, I know it’s safe to keep having sex till you deliver, but I didn’t think any one actually did it! Way to go, Lexa!”

Clarke glared murderously, “My daughter will be older than yours, you goddamn– ah, fuck! –“ She tensed and breathed hard through her nose, a contraction wracking her body, “God, that’s painful,” she hissed.

“Clarke, it’s not too late for drugs,” Lexa worried, and Clarke glared at her.

“My mother says Griffin women don’t need drugs,”

“Oh, you’ll definitely want drugs. Octavia, why don’t you ever orgasm me into delivery?” Raven smirked, her hands resting on top of her ballooned stomach as Clarke suffered another contraction.

“Okay,” the doctor came in, smiling far too widely for Clarke’s tastes, a few nurses trailing her, “I think you’re ready to start pushing, Ms. Griffin,”

“Are they all still there?” Clarke chuckled, her eyes still slightly unfocused as she rested against Lexa. The brunette was holding their baby and playing with her tiny fingers gently, her thumb the size of Lila's palm.

“Mhm,” Lexa hummed, “All ten of them. Oh, Clarke," she breathed, "Look what we made together,”

Clarke smiled and sighed, rolling further into her fiancée, tangling her legs with Lexa’s under the hospital bed’s thin covers. She reached a IV-bandaged hand to carefully pull down Lila's baby pink soft cap, the downy fly-away blonde hair even more velvet against her fingers than the hat.

Lila woke from her sleep to wiggle, and Lexa felt her breath catch. Her still-shut eyes squeezed, and her free fist waved at the air, other hand contracting around Lexa’s thumb. She gurgled gently, the startling emerald of her eyes peeking through in a sliver before disappearing. Suddenly, the bundle gave a muted sneeze, then instantly fell back asleep.

Clarke wiped away the string of snot with a baby towel, and they both quietly watched their perfect little girl. Clarke set her hand on Lexa’s collar and rubbed softly in affection.

“We did a good job,” she said tenderly, and Lexa shared a sensitive smile with the tired blonde-haired woman.

“Yes, we did. You did wonderfully, my love,” she quieted out, and Clarke continued to smooth over Lexa’s chest.

“I don’t know how I could have done that without you, Lexa,” she admitted lightly, “It scares me to think about trying to do that alone. And to remember that I planned to do it that way,” she trailed off. Then smiled lovingly, “But you’re here, and it’s perfect. Thank you,”

Lexa laughed lightly, “Well, if I had known I’d be here at the time, I probably would have run the other way,” she teased, “But now, you couldn’t have stopped me. I fell in love with you and with our family, Clarke. I should be thanking you,”

Clarke only hummed and wrapped her arm around Lexa’s waist, settling more fully against the woman. Together, they had created this beautiful thing; a beautiful relationship, a beautiful life, a beautiful child. And Lexa couldn’t think of a single thing she would change.

‘Although…’

“Darling, you know you should start taking post-natal vitamins right away,”

“Lexa,”

“Right,”

I've been so in love with onemilliongoldstars' fic, I needed to make this happen out of pure sexual frustration.

It's a fic I had already written for another pairing, but Clexa suits it so much better. Hopefully, you liked it as much as I do.

With Love,

K