Chapter 4
Clarke groggily opened her eyes, and glanced at the time. She mentally cursed the person that made the insistent rapping sound at her door. Really, what insane person would disregard their own life to knock on her door on a Sunday morning at seven am? She was about to roll over and ignore the noise when it started up again even louder.
Only one person came to mind - her mother.
With that thought, she swung herself out of bed and called out. “One sec, I’m getting decent!”
Decent was putting it politely. Knowing her mother was a rather impatient person, she decided to forgo a bra, and simply slid on one of her ‘at home’ t-shirts and some bike shorts.
She stumbled towards her front door.
Decency be damned. If Abby didn’t have the decency to organise a visit beforehand, then Clarke would wear whatever the hell she wanted in her own home.
She swung it open and blinked at her visitor. There in her doorway stood her boss, dressed in a good fitting polo shirt and regular shorts as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
Not quite believing what her eyes told her, Clarke counted to three before slamming the door in the woman’s face and locking it.
Too much of anything was a bad thing.
Too much of Lexa was downright addicting.
Drugs are bad, Clarke.
She took a deep breath.
“Good morning to you too, hotstuff.” Lexa said thoroughly amused, through the door. “I brought breakfast!”
“That breakfast better be ‘hotstuff’ if you’re dragging me out of bed this early.” Clarke grumbled, ignoring the heat she felt creeping up her neck as she turned the lock and slid the door open slowly.
Lexa’s bright green eyes peered down at her with a playful tilt to her lips. “Did I surprise the great Clarke Griffin?”
“As if you could surprise me.” She scoffed, leading the brunette to the dining room. “Are you firing me?”
“No.”
“Did we forget something about the case?”
“No.” The brunette laughed, beginning to take the food out of the packaging.
“Well I know we didn’t have hot and wild sex.”
She noticed Lexa’s eyes slide over to her, more specifically lingering at the slight cleavage that her shirt showed, and then trailed down to her mostly showing legs.
Death by mortification. It was a thing right? Even the Sims had an achievement for such a feat.
“Decent.” Clarke said pointedly, beginning to turn towards her bedroom. “I really am going to get decent now.”
“Clarke.” Lexa said gently, redirecting her attention back to the woman “Sit down and relax. I’m only messing with you. No, I’m not firing you. No, this isn’t about the case; and if we had hot and wild sex I wouldn’t have left your bed to begin with.”
“That’s great.” She replied, turning on the kettle for coffee.
“That’s great?” The lawyer echoed, mirth as clear as day. “What? That we didn’t have a nice time adulting? Or that if we had, I wouldn’t have left?”
“As you pointed out so delicately recently - We haven’t entered the realm of fantasy yet. You still haven’t told me why you’re here at this awful hour of the morning.”
Lexa grinned cheekily, handing over a small fruit salad and a bagel. “That’s not to say -”
“- Not happening, tiger, so don’t even finish that sentence.”
“Fine, did you ever find out about that mystery bouquet?”
Clarke shoved the bagel in her mouth and took the biggest bite possible, to buy time to formulate an answer as she chewed. Who cares if she looked like a pig?
(She did.)
She forced herself to swallow the lump of dough painfully at Lexa’s arched brow. “I did a little research. The purple calla lilies represent loyalty, wisdom and admiration and the yellow ones mean gratitude.”
Her bosses brow furrowed in thought as the woman scrunched up the small paper bags the bagels came in and tossed them into the bin. “Weren’t there pink ones too?”
“Romance and appreciation.” She replied, clicking her tongue.
“Some poor fool has it bad.” Lexa said, averting her eyes and letting out a short puff of breath. “At this point, it’s common knowledge that I’m married to my work and that you don’t do relationships.”
Clarke watched the woman carefully as she thought about the wilted flowers in the vase on her dresser and the current situation. Everything was happening too fast, too obviously and with much more momentum than she was ready to deal with.
She hesitated, pondering over the consequences of her next words. “Well, one could argue that it’s not that I don’t do relationships. It’s that, like you, I’m married to my work.”
“Clarke, I am your work.” The lawyer seemed to blurt out as green eyes darted up to meet her own.
“Exactly and it’s Sunday.” She replied, picking up the plastic container of fruit salad with one hand and a fork with the other. She took a piece of the rockmelon first.
“Do you mind that I came by?”
“Nope. To be honest, I thought you were my mum before I opened the door. It was a big surprise to see you first thing this morning.” She admitted honestly. “Hence why I slammed the door in your face.”
“Sorry to burst your melons.” Lexa murmured.
“Bubble. I think you meant bubble?”
“Bubble - Yes, that. Sorry I was just thinking your melons look nice.” The brunette said ruefully.
Clarke felt both her brows rise at the sudden weirdness of the conversation.
She eyed pieces of rockmelon and watermelon carefully, then realised she was holding the small bowl right in front of her own ‘melons’. The sassy quip that hung on the tip of her tongue disappeared as her eyes darted to Lexa who stood as stiff as a board and who seemed to find the view outside of the kitchen window captivating.
Calling her boobs melons was stupidly funny, yes.
But it was dangerous.
A bashful and embarrassed Lexa was dangerously and overwhelmingly, endearingly cute.
To hell with the confident and smooth Lexa in the office. Clarke felt herself swell with affection at this more personal side of the woman.
She stepped into Lexa’s personal space, and placed a hand on her arm until green eyes met her own. “It’s ok, Casanova. I got you.”
Lexa flushed an even deeper shade of red, but Clarke didn’t let her dwell on it. Warmth enveloped her as she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to the lawyer’s own. They were ridiculously soft and she could taste the sugar from the fruit she had eaten.
Lexa froze.
Clarke froze in response as reality crashed down around her. She tried to swallow the dread that crept up.
“Don’t freak out.” Lexa said quickly.
It was like telling an angry person to calm down - It only made her freak out more.
“I’m sorry.” She muttered, beginning to pace. “That wasn’t appropr-”
“Clarke, calm down. I’ve been -”
“- We are not going to end up like Anya and Raven.” Clarke continued.
“Those standards aren’t high,” The brunette quipped hurriedly. “Can we just talk -”
“- We don’t even have time to get involved! We spend all our time work-”
“- Clarke!”
She stopped in her tracks and faced Lexa.
There’s no going back to the way things were now.
She decisively declared two words she’d never thought she’d say. “I quit.”
Lexa’s colour drained for her face and she looked to be struggling with whatever thoughts she was having and then replied with a single succinct word, “Denied.”
“You can’t deny my resignation!” The blonde sputtered out.
“Of course I can. Let’s sit down and talk like rational adults, and if you want to quit after that, then…” Lexa suggested cautiously.
“I’m not rational.” She mumbled petulantly. “So the very definition of both of us engaging in a rational conversation is entirely irrational.”
“That’s the most rational thing I’ve heard from you all morning.” It was said with a teasing lilt. “Look, this isn’t a bad thing. We never fight -”
“ - Yet. Relationship status’ changes will change that, you know.”
“I could work from home after hours,” Lexa continued on as if she hadn’t spoken. “But I stay in the office because I know you’ll stay until I tell you to go home.”
“I work for you. I don’t go home until you do.”
“And the constant flirting?”
“Just part of our dynamic.” Clarke shotback.
“Now you’re being stubborn for the sake of it.” The brunette grinned. “I think I like you being a brat.”
“I’m not being a brat.”
“We support each other, call each other out. We take care of each other.” Lexa counted each thing out on a finger. “I mean, we’re practically in a relationship already - minus the kissing and sex part.”
“I really shouldn’t be surprised that the person who calls ‘boobs, melons’ calls an intimate aspect of a romantic relationship ‘the kissing and sex part’.” The blonde muttered, rolling her eyes.
“Clarke, I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.”
“Lexa,” She said, looking up into amused green eyes. “I know better than to argue with a lawyer. Especially when that lawyer is you.”
“See? This isn’t so scary.” Lexa teased, arms moving to embrace her. “If I knew you were just afraid, I would have done this much sooner.”
“Says the person who froze like an icecap when I kissed her.”
“Maybe it was because I couldn’t believe the person who was kissing me was also the same person who low-key stared at my boobs, then denied it, and then figured out flowers I sent to her were for her, and denied that too!”
“Touche.” She quipped back, and leaned into the woman’s warmth. “Just promise me we won’t backtrack from what we already have.”
“We won’t if we’re willing to work it all out.” Lexa asked, losing most of her humour.
“I’ll have you know it’s Sunday, and I don’t work on Sundays.” Clarke replied, feeling more relaxed and at ease than she has in a long time.
Lexa Woods really was a catch. Beautiful, smart, patient, giving with just a hint of arrogant cheekiness.
“Then it’s a good thing I really don’t mind working for you today, Miss Griffin.” The woman replied softly, lowering her head.
Lips pressed against hers, and this time, there was no freak out. This time, Clarke hung onto her, kissing her back.
“I hate myself,” She mumbled against Lexa. “This is so much better than pretending.”
“Does this mean we’ve finally entered the realm of fantasy, Clarke?”
“It’s Sunday,” The blonde reiterated with a smirk. “Anything is possible on a Sunday.”