A Saucy Distraction
Lexa raises the wooden spoon to her lips, gently blowing tendrils of steam off the homemade marinara sauce that clings to the utensil’s surface. She tests the sauce’s temperature against her lips, before tentatively tasting the fruit of her labors. She closes her eyes and a soft sigh escapes marinara stained lips, the robust flavors transporting her to some of her favorite memories—
A little Lexa, barely taller than her grandmother’s knee, sitting on the countertop next to the stove as her Nona tells her that she’s her favorite taste tester.
Her father, Gustus, making her entire soccer team an enormous spaghetti dinner after winning the state championship her junior year of high school.
Her second date with Clarke, the one she feels so lucky to have gotten after botching the first so completely, where she shares her favorite comfort food with Clarke.
Newly married Clarke and Lexa at their wedding reception dinner, trying desperately to twirl pasta around a fork without getting any sauce on their white dresses; a bittersweet nod to Nona’s absence, which they all feel immensely.
—Lexa hums out a satisfied “Mmm” and reloads the spoon. With a careful hand draped underneath, she walks briskly to their home office, or more aptly, the corner of their bedroom with a desk in it.
Clarke is at her laptop, her furious typing intermingled with short pauses to reference medical journals both in print and online. She’s wearing her glasses, which means she took her contacts out, which further means she’s been staring at that screen for several hours too many.
Lexa takes in her wife, still beautiful despite her stress, and sighs. She shakes off her concern a few seconds later, saunters over and swivels Clarke’s desk chair around. She promptly takes a seat in her lovely wife’s lap, before offering the spoon to pouting pink lips paused in protest. Clarke hesitantly samples the sauce, before closing her eyes and melting into the chair, as she exclaims, “Nona’s sauce! Nectar of the gods.”
Lexa chuckles and kisses an errant drop from Clarke’s lips, “Why don’t you take a break and come eat, Baby? While it’s still warm.” Big, blue eyes stare up into Lexa’s green, a wordless exchange of thoughts hovering between the two of them.
Clarke swallows thickly around a muffled harrumph, which roughly translates to “I’m so busy, I don’t have time for your wiles, woman!” Lexa quirks an elegantly sculpted eyebrow and smirks in response, which more or less means “Get your ass in the kitchen, you know you can’t say ‘No’ to me or Nona’s sauce.” Clarke’s eyes soften and she nods, accepting the fate that was decided for her as soon as Lexa stepped foot in the kitchen earlier.
Lexa plates their dinner and sits down next to Clarke at the table, offering an endearing peck to Clarke’s cheek as she takes her seat; a reward for her wife coming to her senses. Conversation begins to flow, and in no time Clarke appears lighter and less burdened by her upcoming residency exams. Lexa smiles and plays footsie with her wife under the table.
They finish their meal after sharing a few fond memories of Nona, and Clarke begins to clear the table. Lexa bites her lip and grins mischievously as she executes phase two of Operation: Calm Clarke, “Hey babe, why don’t you let those dishes soak for a bit while we go do the same in a bubble bath?” Clarke’s grip fails her and a plate clinks it’s way to the bottom of the sink.
Lexa’s smile blooms across her face because I’m that moment she’s won and she knows it, they both know it. She walks up behind her wife, snaking her arms around Clarke’s middle and draws their bodies as close as they’ll go. Lexa noses past a few delicate blonde tresses to whisper directly in Clarke’s ear. Her words are hushed and come out in warm puffs as they deliver a final message to seal the deal, “The dishes can wait, Clarke…” she makes a point to stress the fourth consonant, “…but I can’t.”
Lexa feels the shiver that ripples through Clarke’s body against her own. Clarke abandons her work at the sink, and high tails it back to the bedroom, back to her…desk!? Lexa gawks incredulously, despair coursing through her veins at her apparent defeat, until she notices Clarke saving her work and closing the laptop. When Clarke turns around her eyes are as dark as sapphires in pale moonlight, but her words are laced with all the warmth and mirth of a sunny day, “How ‘bout that bubble bath now, Love? I’d hate to keep you waiting.”
An hour later, after the calming combination of a hot bubble bath and three orgasms, Clarke’s completely relaxed body lay draped across Lexa’s in the tub, boneless. They’ve added hot water to the bath a few times over, and their interlaced fingers now resemble a bunch of raisins. Lexa kisses each one anyway, before suggesting they move from the bath to the bed.
Clarke hums out in acquiescence before adding, “Thanks Lex, I was letting the stress swallow me whole, but you know how to ground me.” Clarke kisses her sweetly, “How to calm me.” Another kiss with the welcome addition of tongue, “How to save me.” Lexa brings a dripping hand up, complete with raisin fingertips, to cup Clarke’s cheek as she slants their lips together again. At the same time, Lexa toes the faucet on to add another round of hot water to the bath; the bed will have to wait, just like the dishes.