#I just wanna talk about me and Octavia dating and kissing and cuddling

[sweetlovingfictionals]

I have so many thoughts about different /O’s today. Namely

Octavia

Collin

Deathslinger

Chopper

Monty

Sarabi

And SkekSo hhhhhhh.

I wanna talk about them all but I don’t wanna spam the dash neither LNAO

[immortalcockroach]

I SHOULD’VE CARRIED US HOME

summary:  What makes Bellamy finally realize he loves his best friend is the weight of Echo's love.

pairing: Bellamy x Clarke, heavy mention of Bellamy x Echo

words: 1,923

Bellamy Blake is in love with Echo. It’s an unexpected love, something no one could've foreseen. It’s wild kisses and late nights spent making out when they should be sleeping, getting energy for work next morning.

Almost three years into the relationship—six years since Echo has joined his friendship group—Bellamy is lying in their bed after such night, mouth still hot and wet from her kisses. She’s lying next to him, asleep, curled around their duvet. It’s a warm night and he likes the feeling of late night’s breeze on his body.

He doesn’t usually take this long to fall asleep. At first, he blames the temperature in the bedroom and sets the thermostat right. When it doesn’t work, he opens the window.

That doesn’t work, either.

Now, he just lays in the bed, wide awake with a heavy burden on his chest.

His mind goes back to the first time Echo tells him she loves him. It’s a rainy day and they’re at Lincoln’s apartment, with Clarke, Octavia, and Lincoln preparing dinner in the kitchen. Echo and Bellamy are sitting in the living room and they’re doing nothing, just waiting.

Bellamy remembers how he feels his heart beating to the thumping of the rain on Lincoln’s broad windows, Echo curled into his chest.

He remembers stroking her hair and placing a kiss on the top of her head. He’s thinking about the dinner, about one of the three messing up, knowing it would most likely be Clarke. She’s not used to the couple’s way of dealing with things, and especially not cooking.

He feels the moment when she’s about to say it. At first, he doesn’t think he hears her well, but her fingers linger underneath his jaw and her eyes are closed. She’s vulnerable, for and to him, and he kisses her.

It takes him nearly a month to say it back.

At this moment, with Echo next to him, he wonders where they went wrong. At this moment, he knows that how he feels about her isn’t the way she wants him to.

The next moment his mind takes him to is when Echo proposes they live together, on a rainy day in August, a little over two years into their relationship.

They’ve just gone back to his place from a double date with Clarke and Finn. Bellamy remembers not liking something about the guy, and talking about that the whole way home.

“He’s not the right guy for her,” he says.

“She’s a big girl,” Echo says. “She can decide for herself. You don’t need to look after her.”

“She’s my best friend.” In the moment, that explains everything.

He remembers being pissed about the little things about Finn and every time Echo says he’s overreacting, he pulls the best friend card. Sometimes, it’s the she’s-like-a-sister-to-me card, too.

He doesn’t connect her suggestion of moving in together to this, at the time. Now he sees the jealousy in her eyes when he talks about Finn, and some distinct fire in her kiss moments before she pops the question. His mind, burdened with the fear his best friend is going to have her heart crushed by a douche, says yes without a second thought.

He knows, now.

He gets out of bed and drinks a glass of water. It’s cold and refreshing and when he looks at Echo, he hopes she would make him feel the same.

She doesn’t.

He loves her, he knows that. But he doesn’t know if he’s in love with her, anymore.

Or if he’s ever been.

He remembers their fights. They’re never about big things, but the one time they are, he leaves their apartment, only months before this moment. He doesn’t even need to think about where he’ll go.

Clarke opens the door with a bottle of beer and forces it into his hand.

“Drink,” she says, “you’ll feel better.”

He listens. They sit at the couch and he sees her desk light is on, even at nearly midnight, and her laptop is open on a medical journal and there are notes and printed papers all over her desk, and the coffee table, and on the counter.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

She gives him a long look. He sees her hair is supposed to be in a braid, but the only reason he knows that is because there’s a headband at the very bottom of it. Her eyes are red and tired and she’s wearing a sweater and sweatpants he never sees her wear.

She chugs what’s left of her beer, goes get another bottle, and drinks some from it. “Finn’s girlfriend called.”

Her boyfriend’s girlfriend. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No.” She nods at him. “What about you?”

It’s his turn to drink. “Echo and I have been fighting for days.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

She raises her beer. “Cheers,” she says. Bellamy touches it with his own. “To the sad lovers who don’t want to talk.”

Bellamy echoes her words.

They drink and Clarke goes back to keeping her sanity intact with medical work for her next shift, or just exploring and learning, and Bellamy checks his presentations for his class tomorrow.

It’s a habit. They both drown themselves in work when they have no words to say.

At nearly three in the morning, Clarke walks up to him with another bottle of beer. “Wanna talk about it now?”

He does, and so does she.

By the time they’re both finished, it’s nearing six and neither of them has slept anything. So they both call in sick, Bellamy goes home to talk to Echo and Clarke goes on a lunch with Finn’s girlfriend, Raven.

He looks at Echo now, and wonders if they’d even be where they are now if he didn’t have Clarke.

A part of him feels immense guilt. The heavy burden gets heavier as he thinks about him and Echo and what it took for them to get to this point, and he realizes things he wishes he didn’t.

He thinks of the day they’ve had. Echo, waking him on a lazy Sunday morning with breakfast in bed. Soft kisses when he’s finished, and cuddling until it’s almost eleven and they really need to get out of bed.

Instead of lunching at home, she proposes they make a picnic, so they do.

He likes seeing her this breezy, happy. He loves the look in her eyes when she looks at him and knows she’d do whatever it takes to make him happy.

They go to a park. It’s not excessively romantic or excessively rich because he’s a college assistant professor and she’s a guard at a bank and they haven’t really got the money to afford something extravagant.

She brings music. She dances. Bellamy enjoys, but doesn’t participate.

When they come back, rain welcomes them at the doorway. He gives her a kiss under it. In the bed, they continue what they were doing and now she’s asleep and he’s wondering if he’s ever truly loved her the way she deserves to be loved.

He’s running out of love, and he cannot bear the weight of hers.

When she wakes in the morning, he hasn’t slept. They talk for hours and Bellamy gives her an explanation he deserves, and when she cries, the weight begins choking him.

He cries, too, because he’s not the man she deserves.

His heart belongs to someone else. It has, all this time. He makes a joke all the rains about their happiest moments should’ve been a sign.

They part ways amicably as it is. Bellamy’s going to need to look for an apartment as this is primarily hers, and he packs his stuff and crashes at Lincoln and Octavia’s.

He doesn’t tell anyone what happened.

He eats and sleeps and does his work and does his work and does his work and doesn’t sleep. Clarke is busy with her own life and Lincoln has his art and martial arts lessons and Octavia has a bike and police training and Jasper and Monty have their chemical activities and Harper and Monroe and Fox are on a vacation and Raven is on a seminar and Bellamy is alone.

So, he drinks. He thinks about Clarke and how he should’ve known it.

Octavia finds him drunk, dressed in the clothes from two days ago when he arrives home on a Monday morning, claiming he’s been in Las Vegas.

He doesn’t have a class that day. When he wakes up, at nearly midnight, he vomits and vomits and vomits until he’s sure he has no intestines left. Lincoln is by his side and he scolds him for treating himself like this, and makes him promise he’ll talk to Clarke.

“There’s only so much work to do,” he says.

Bellamy knows he’s referring to his habit. And he’s right, because Bellamy’s done all that had to be done and researched all he could and nothing even makes him happy anymore.

He gives Clarke a call later this week, and she tells him to come over.

It’s been nearly a month since he’s last seen her. It’s been nearly three weeks since he broke up with Echo.

This time, he says it at the door. “I broke up with Echo.”

Clarke, as always when she senses something bad happened, gives him a beer.

He puts it away.

“Clarke.” It’s a plea.

She lets him in and he sits on the couch and she sits next to him.

He says, “I love you.”

She smiles. “You’re saying this only because you’re hurting.”

“I broke up with her because I didn’t love her. And I couldn’t, because I love you.”

She’s quiet.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he says. “You don’t have to love me back. I just needed you to know it. I’ve been keeping it from you too long, denying it even longer.”

“Bellamy,” she whispers.

“I know,” he replies.

“No.” She shakes her head. “I thought you were going to propose to her.”

“I never thought about proposing to her.” He never saw her as his everything; as his wife.

“I thought you were happy.”

“I was. Just not the way I should be in a relationship. I couldn’t. Not with her.” He knows she’ll read between the lines.

“Bellamy,” she whispers again.

He closes his eyes. Tries to savour the moment, because he knows that whatever happens next, everything changes.

He doesn’t have Echo. He doesn’t know what will happen with Clarke. He doesn’t have a place to live, he doesn’t have a best friend.

He should’ve thought this through.

Somewhere, deep, guilt starts blubbering.

Then he realizes why he couldn’t let Echo go – because she offered stability. She offered something he could rely on at every time of the day, a safe life he’s always thought he wants for himself. Because he knew her love and loyalty would never waver.

Loving Clarke is like jumping into an ocean without knowing how deep it is, what animals are in there, what kinds of currents moved the waters, or if you can swim.

It’s a risk he’s willing to take.

When he opens his eyes, he sees her cheeks glistening and her eyes red.

He takes the risk. He kisses her.

When she kisses him back, and he caresses her cheeks, wiping away the tears, he knows this is what he’s always wanted.

Not stability. Not certainty.

Deep, weightless love.

He feels Clarke’s words on his own lips.

“I’ve always loved you, too.”

[tobegthequestion]

new clexa fic!

hello friends! i decided to start a new clexa fanfic, a nice slowburn because i love dying. you can also check it out on AO3 here. 

you just can’t see it yet - chapter 1 

“Oh my God, Anya, can you let it go?” Lexa groans as she pushes herself off the couch, heading into the kitchen both to grab a beer and shake her obnoxious best friend.

“No, I cannot let it go,” Anya huffs, blocking Lexa’s way back out of the kitchen. “You two were together for five years, she can’t just move out one day and leave you a note!”

“Well, evidently she can, since that’s exactly what she did,” Lexa shoves past Anya and propels herself onto the couch, nearly kicking Luna’s head off.

“Oy, heathen, watch it!” she shouts before realizing that she just yelled at Lexa instead of Anya. “Oh, sorry, I thought you were Anya.” Lexa just shrugs, straightening herself up and sidling up next to her other roommate. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” she frowns, resting her head on Luna’s shoulder. Between her two roommates, Luna is by far the most empathetic. Her girlfriend, on the other hand, tends to dish out the tough love.

“Is Anya giving you grief?” Luna asks, not even giving Lexa a chance to respond before yelling into the kitchen, “Babe, stop giving Lexa grief! She’s mourning!”

“She shouldn’t be mourning, she should be letting me kick Costia’s ass for that shit!” Anya growls, the protector in her becoming very clear as she sits down on the arm of the couch. “I mean, what did that note say, exactly? I know you have it memorized.”

“‘Dear Lexa, I don’t love you anymore. I’m moving out, please don’t look for me. Best, Costia,’” Lexa recites, her cheeks going red at how well Anya knows her.

“Oh come on,” Anya whines, “that’s the worst thing ever! What did Clarke and Raven have to say about it?” Lexa casts her eyes downward, observing the swirling patterns intently with her brows furrowed.

“You didn’t tell them?” Luna catches on immediately, looking at her girlfriend over Lexa’s head. “Oh my gosh, she didn’t tell them.”

“Why didn’t you tell them?” Anya asks, her tone softening drastically. The two women know that if Lexa hasn’t told Clarke, then it’s much more serious than they anticipated.

“Clarke is having problems with Finn, I didn’t want to bother her,” Lexa shrugs as if it makes perfect sense. “And Raven is… well, Raven.”

“You should tell Clarke. You know she wouldn’t judge,” Luna nudges her a little. Lexa smiles weakly and stands up, excusing herself up to her room. She found the note in her and Costia’s apartment almost a week ago, and she’s been moving her things back into Anya and Luna’s apartment ever since. She tried to stay at her old place the first night, but she ended up cuddling Costia’s old pillow and sobbing into it, which Anya found to be incredibly off-putting when she showed up the next morning. Lexa’s never been the type to overshare, but she’s starting to get a nagging feeling in her gut because she hasn’t called Clarke since she came home to a folded piece of paper on her counter. Clarke’s been Lexa’s best friend since middle school, when they both ended up in the nurse's office after a very messy game of kickball. Lexa can’t recall a time where something this big happened in her life and she told someone else before Clarke, so she flops down on her bed face first and pulls her phone out of her back pocket. She presses the phone icon next to the blonde’s contact picture, one of Clarke ruffling her hair with a goofy grin taking over her features.

“Sexy Lexy, what can I do for you?” Clarke’s voice rings through the phone after two rings. Lexa can hear movement on the other side, a crackling sound as if Clarke was rubbing the phone’s mic against fabric.

“I, uh, I have to tell you something,” Lexa mumbles, biting down on her bottom lip.

“Okay, shoot,” she replies, the sound ceasing, signaling to Lexa that the blonde is finally still.

“Costia and I broke up.”

“Wait, what?” Clarke gasps. “Are you serious?”

“Well, yeah,” Lexa stammers, “she left me a note last week and-”

“She left you a note?” Clarke interrupts. “After five years together, after buying an apartment together, all she could do was leave you a note? What a fucking coward.”

“Clarke, it’s okay-”

“No it’s not,” she cuts her off again, which is abnormal for Clarke. She’s usually a very good listener, and almost never has this strong of a reaction to Lexa’s life problems. “My Lex deserves better,” her tone softens to one that’s sickeningly sweet, Lexa’s nickname flowing off her tongue like drizzling honey.

“Thank you, Clarke,” Lexa keeps her acknowledgement simple, afraid that any more talk of Costia might cause her voice to betray her.

“Hey, do you wanna come over? I know you’re probably sick to death of those girls. Raven and Octavia are away for the weekend, so we can have the apartment to ourselves,” Clarke offers, somehow already knowing that Lexa’s staying at Anya and Luna’s place.

“I’ll be over in ten.”

#

Lexa decides to walk the two blocks to her best friend’s apartment complex, since she hasn’t been outside in almost 48 hours and the weather is especially nice for March. After getting buzzed in immediately after she rang, the green eyed woman takes the elevator to the twelfth floor, her long fingers drumming nervously on the handrail. As she walks down the hall, her hands slip into the pockets of her peacoat, twiddling with her fingers where the inhabitants of the complex won’t see. Lexa barely has a chance to knock before the wooden door swings open, revealing a casually dressed Clarke, clad in dark grey sweatpants and a “nevertheless, we persist” t-shirt.

“Sorry, I’ve been waiting,” Clarke smiles, leaning one arm against the doorframe.

“Oh, sorry, am I late? I picked up some coffee on the way out of Anya’s building, I didn’t realize it would take me so long-” Lexa’s nervous rambling is cut short when Clarke tenderly wraps her arms around her, enveloping her in a warm and comforting hug. Clarke’s fingers brush nimbly through Lexa’s hair, making her green eyes flutter closed.

“What are you so nervous about?” Clarke pulls away slightly, her signature grin causing her eyes to crinkle ever-so-slightly. “It’s just me.”

“I know, I know,” Lexa shakes her head a little. “The past week, everything has just felt so… wrong.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Clarke brings a hand up to her face, stroking her cheek with the pad of her thumb. “I totally get why you didn’t tell me at first. I know I’ve been all over the place the past few weeks, and I feel terrible that I couldn’t be there for you.” Lexa finds the words catching in her throat as she stares into Clarke’s cerulean gaze, her eyes piercing into a part of her soul she didn’t even know was there.

“It’s okay,” Lexa says meekly. “I know you’ve been having problems with Finn-”

“Please, anything but Finn,” Clarke groans, shimmying out of Lexa’s loose grip and sidling back into the apartment.

“Okay, well I know you’ve been really busy doing commission work, and I didn’t want to get in the way,” Lexa changes the subject as quickly as it came up, but she can’t help but wonder why Clarke was immediate to shut the topic down when she’s usually vocal about her relationships. Very vocal.

“You’re not in the way,” Clarke looks at Lexa over her shoulder, holding up two beers, to which Lexa nods. She knows deep down she shouldn’t be drinking to forget, but what’s one beer, right? Clarke slides the bottle across the counter and Lexa grabs it just before it falls off, placing the cool bottle on the back of her neck in a sorry attempt to relieve the tension. “Incoming,” Clarke shouts and tosses a bottle opener though the air which Lexa catches with ease, brandishing the object in one hand and smiling at the Vancouver engraving. “I see you haven’t lost your softball skills,” she snickers and Lexa rolls her eyes, popping the top off and tosses the top in a perfect arc, sending it into the recycling bin with a clatter.

“You flatter me,” Lexa leans forward on her elbows, her “Clarke smile,” as her friends call it , returning for the first time in over a week. “So what’s new?”

“Well, I’ve got a big piece in the works,” Clarke begins. “It’s for this hot-shot independant contracter who, funnily enough, has the ugliest house on the planet.” Lexa stifles a laugh at Clarke’s unabashed insulting of the man paying her for her work. “He wanted something to show his wife that he loves her, so,” she gestures vaguely to a large canvas covered by a sheet across the room. Lexa quirks an eyebrow for permission and Clarke just shrugs, taking a sip of her beer to contain her nerves. Clarke is perpetually nervous when showing other people her art, especially Lexa. She’s always been a big supporter of her pursuit of art, but she still feels tension churning in her stomach as Lexa peels back the sheet, unveiling the mostly-finished painting. Lexa’s eyes widen at the organized mess of colors outlining a woman holding a silk sheet around herself. The stripes of color blend effortlessly together and surround the woman in the painting, drawing her tan skin forward and allowing the grey sheet sink to the back of the canvas.

“Clarke, this is…” Lexa trails off.

“It needs some work, I know,” Clarke sighs. “I haven’t finished shading her shoulder or the crease of the sheet-”

“Be quiet, it’s beautiful,” Lexa admonishes. “Your work… It always blows me away.”

“Thanks,” Clarke smiles.

“Is that the guy’s wife then?”

“Yeah, I asked him if she’d sit for me,” Clarke replies. “I’ve always liked painting the female form. Gives me an excuse to observe” Lexa tenses ever-so-slightly at the blonde’s nonchalant comment. As far as the five of them know, Clarke is the only one who’s straight, but Lexa’s always had her suspicions. They did share one drunken kiss during a round of truth or dare sophomore year, one that the green eyed woman still feels ghosting her lips, but Clarke’s been dating any man with a pulse ever since, so she’s never had a chance to follow up on her theory. Not that she wants to.

“It looks good,” Lexa swallows, not sure how else to veer away from where Clarke slyly directed the conversation. “I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it, but I’m always here for you regarding Finn.”

“I know you are,” Clarke approaches her and sets a hand on her arm, “and I’m thankful, but he’s out of town and I’m trying to enjoy the lack of nagging in my ear. Would you be opposed to eating junk food in front of the TV and cuddling all night?”

“Who could say no to that?” Lexa shakes her head fondly and Clarke pumps a fist in the air, proceeding to rattle off a list of snacks they “just have to have.”

#

After spending half an hour in the local grocery store, Clarke running around like child grabbing everything with a ridiculous caloric intake, and Lexa looking over her shoulders to make sure her best friend didn’t run into anything, they finally approach the register. Once they place their items on the belt, Lexa offers to pay and hands the older woman working the register her card before Clarke has a chance to say anything, so instead she throws an arm over Lexa’s shoulder, brushing through the thick strands of hair.

“You two make a beautiful couple,” the lady comments with a kind smile.

“Oh, we’re not-” Lexa starts but the words catch in her throat when Clarke slips her hand into Lexa’s.

“Thank you so much,” Clarke smiles widely, her gaze shifting between the cashier and Lexa’s confused expression. She gives the green eyed woman’s hand a little squeeze, which does little to appease Lexa’s rampant confusion.

“How long have you ladies been together?”

“Since high school,” Clarke replies without even thinking about it. “We were best friends first, but we both eventually realized what we really wanted.” Lexa’s jaw drops at the darkened look in Clarke’s blue eyes.

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” she says moreso to Lexa, handing her back her credit card. “You two have a great evening.”

“Thanks, you too,” Lexa mumbles and uses the grocery bags as an excuse to let go of Clarke’s hand, her palm sweating out of sheer stress as supposed to heat. She grabs the bags as quickly as possible and rushes out to Clarke’s car, leaving the blonde standing dumbfounded at the conveyor belt. Clarke takes a minute to think about what the hell she just did, and her head quickly falls into her hands. What was I thinking? She finally unfreezes and makes a beeline for the door, rushing to the car after her best friend.

“Lexa, wait,” Clarke jogs after the brown eyed woman, who is loading the groceries into the trunk. “Hey, I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. I guess my imagination got the best of me.”

“It’s okay,” Lexa sighs, turning around and leaning back on the car, “I was just surprised, that’s all.” Clarke just smiles at her before slipping into the driver’s seat, leaving Lexa to wonder why Clarke’s little stunt affected her so much.

#

“Clarkie, we’re back!” Raven shouts as she comes crashing into the apartment the next afternoon. Lexa had just returned to Anya and Luna’s apartment to go house-hunting, insisting to Clarke that she was fine to do it alone.

“Oh God, please go back,” Clarke groans, barely lifting her head up from the couch, her peripheral allowing her to see Octavia hanging off of Raven like an extra limb, once again exhibiting their inseparability.

“You love us,” Octavia tears herself off of her girlfriend’s body as if it was causing her physical pain before flopping down directly on top of Clarke, the blonde letting out a ridiculous grunt. “How was your weekend, Griff?”

“It was good,” Clarke grits out before she shoves Octavia off of her, sending the dark haired woman rolling onto the floor. “I saw Lexa.”

“Wait, you did?” Raven overhears from the kitchen. “When?”

“She came over yesterday, in the evening, and then she left a few hours ago,” she replies, sitting up after she realizes that she’s going to have to explain the story to her nosy roommates. “Her and Costia broke up.”

“No way,” Raven sits back down next to the blonde, a glass of orange juice in hand. “What happened? I thought they were doing well.”

“I have no idea,” Clarke sighs. “She didn’t really want to get into it, but I do know that she only left a note.”

“Seriously?” Octavia gapes. “What a dick move.”

“I know,” Clarke nods and snatches the orange juice from her friend’s hand, taking a large gulp before Raven smacks her upper arm and takes it back.

“Did you tell her about Finn?” Octavia blurts out and Raven shoots her a silencing glare.

“No, I didn’t,” Clarke bares her teeth ever-so-slightly at Octavia. “She had plenty of her own shit to sift through. I offered to go look at apartments with her today and I was going to talk to her about it then, but she said she could do it alone.”

“Sounds like you’re making excuses to me,” Raven raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“Piss off,” Clarke rolls her eyes and gets up from the couch, stomping down the hall into her room and slamming the door behind her. The blonde rests her head against the door, lightly banging against it in an attempt to force the whirlwind of thoughts out of her brain. She eventually pulls out her phone and clicks on Messages, then on Finn’s contact, scrolling through their messages from a few days ago.

Clarke [19:21] i just can’t believe you would cheat on me

Finn [19:48] I’m not cheating on you.

Clarke [19:48] yeah, not anymore, but you were and we both know it

Finn [20:12] You have no proof.

Clarke [20:12] it’s not about proof, it’s about the fact that if you’ve been faithful, you should be denying it vehemently instead of saying i can’t prove it

Finn [20:22] I’m not going to keep doing with this you.

Finn [20:23] You want the truth? Fine, I cheated on you.

Finn [20:23] We’ve been together for six months and you’ve never put out. And Bellamy said he had the same problem with you!

Clarke [20:24] you talk to bellamy about me? are you serious? fuck you

Finn [20:31] Yeah, fuck you too.

Finn [20:32] Don’t message me again. I’m done.

Clarke tosses her phone onto her bed and soon follows its path, screaming half-heartedly into the pillows. She lays there thinking about her status with Finn for who knows how long until there’s a hesitant knock on the door.

“Octavia, you and Raven can both fuck off,” Clarke shouts at the door, making no move to get up.

“Uh, it’s me,” Lexa’s timid voice is muffled by the door.

“Shit,” she mutters and opens her bedroom door, revealing a formally-dressed Lexa with her hair in an intricate set of braids.

“Raven called, she said you needed me for something?” Lexa’s adorable smile never fails to cheer Clarke up, and she can’t even muster up enough anger to be mad at Raven for calling Lexa while she was busy.

“I’m sorry, I know you were out doing something, I didn’t ask her to-”

“I know you didn’t,” Lexa chuckles, “Clarke Griffin never asks for help. And besides, you helped me yesterday, so I’ll help you today.” Lexa invites herself into Clarke’s room, kicking off her heels and hanging her jacket on one of the wall hooks before sitting on the edge of the bed and patting the space next to her. “C’mere, sit.” The blonde pads shyly over to the bed, sitting cross-legged facing her best friend.

“What’s up?” Clarke asks lightly, her eyes faltering away from Lexa’s powerful gaze. She’s afraid that if she stares into the green orbs for any longer than she has to, she’ll completely lose herself and let Lexa see all of her, though for a moment, Clarke wonders what’s so wrong with that.

“What happened with Finn?” Lexa inquires, her voice just above a whisper. Clarke bows her head and trains her eyes on the carpet, reluctant to share the incident that she finds embarrassing with her best friend. “Hey, you can tell me,” Lexa places a reassuring hand on Clarke’s knee. “I don’t judge.”

“We- He broke up with me,” Clarke finally looks up at her best friend. “He was cheating on me, and then he had the nerve to dump me. All because I confronted him.” Clarke chokes on the last few words and a few tears spring from the corners of her eyes.

“Oh, honey,” the brunette sighs, wrapping her arms around Clarke’s waist, the two molding together, the feeling reminiscent of coming home after a long day. Clarke eventually stops supporting herself enough to sit up as she cries, sending both of them tumbling back on the bed, but conforming to each other just as easily. Lexa’s nimble fingers run through blond locks, whispering sweet nothings into Clarke’s ear as she falls asleep.

“I’m here. It’s okay, I’m here.”

#

An obnoxious knock at the door wakes both the women up from their spontaneous evening nap. Clarke groans and lifts her head off of Lexa’s stomach, untangling their legs and sitting up straight. Lexa finds herself shivering at the loss of warmth, reaching blindly around the space beside her for her best friend. The door swings open and reveals a dumbfounded and yet smirking Raven.

“You two do know that it’s gone nine o’clock, right?” Raven asks rhetorically, picking up a stray pillow from the floor and chucking it precisely at Lexa’s torso. “Woods, you babysitters are here.” Clarke hears laughing in the living room, Anya’s distinct cackle ringing out and causing Clarke to shoot up from the bed and jog down the hall.

“Look who it is,” Luna comments when the blonde appears in the wide doorway.

“Griffin decided to show up,” Anya jokes, taking a bite of the pile of food on her plate. Octavia, Anya and Luna all sit gathered around the dining room table, with six places set. Clarke is suddenly hit with the reminder that the six of them were supposed to have dinner together tonight, since it’d been a few weeks since they all saw each other.

“Oh shit,” Clarke gasps. “I totally forgot that was today.” Clarke slides down in the chair next to Luna, the older woman starting a conversation about Clarke’s art. Meanwhile, Raven is mulling over what she just walked in on. Her best friends, that she’s known since high school, tangled up in each other halfway down the bed. The mechanic has always had her suspicions about the two of them, and now that they’re both single…

“Anya!” Raven yells down the hall for her friend. “Come here, I have an idea.”