#he is cocky smooth handsome tall muscular and charming he is actually like MOST of the princes at the beginning if we are gonna be honest

[idiosyncraticrednebula]

I really wish some of the actresses who have voiced Disney Princesses would stop comparing their princess to the previous ones and claim how she was the "first" one to have *gasp* independence and strength *gasp*. Have they ever watched a Disney movie outside of their own?

[insideabunker]

Halloween: Part 2 of 2

“How…”

The girls both turned as an enormous figure entered the kitchen, efficiently derailing Lexa’s train of thought.  The giant gentleman was clad in a full-length tropical dress and wore an outlandish, fruit-covered head wrap atop a face plastered in elaborate makeup.  Unabashed by the dumbfounded girls, he sashayed into the kitchen as though it were the most natural thing in the world, opening the fridge and filling his glass with Pinot Grigio.  “I don’t see the costume I bought for you, Anya.”   His tremendously bassy voice provided a sharp contrast to his appearance.

Anya set her jaw and groaned, glowering at her father.

“Dad, I’m going to Derek O’Connell’s party after this. I don’t want to have to change in between.”

Gustus sighed as he straightened to his full, towering height.  Lexa stared at her uncle.  Well over six feet tall, and weighing at least 230 pounds, the man cut an imposing figure.  Indeed, clad in his police uniform, he was a terrifying sight to behold.  Lexa had learned that the hard way, her senior year of high school when he’d broken up a kegger she’d made the unfortunate decision of attending.  Even in drag, he managed to look genuinely intimidating.

Gustus closed the fridge and gave his daughter an exasperated gaze.  “Sweetheart, I thought you were going to try to get into the spirit of things this year.”

Anya cocked an eyebrow.  “I think you’ve got enough spirit for both of us, Dad.”

He rolled his eyes.  “Very amusing, young lady.”  Gustus turned to Lexa, pulling her in for a hug before surveying her outfit.  Now you’re cousin here, that’s more like it.”  He smiled at his niece.  “I’m sure your brother was thrilled when he saw your costume.”

Lexa nodded.  “I should hope so. He’s the one who insisted on it.”  Lexa chuckled as she allowed her uncle’s large arms to swallow her body.  “Who are you supposed to be, Uncle Gus?”

The colossal man gestured to his costume, waving a hand up and down his torso and striking a pose  “I’m Carmen Miranda, dear.  She was an actress a long time ago.”

Lexa nodded.  “Is Uncle Nyko here?”

“Gustus sighed, taking a sip of wine.  “Sadly, he’s on second watch tonight.  He did promise to come by after though.”  He shot a knowing look at his daughter and smirked.  “Anya, you know Daddy is going to want a picture of all of us in costume.”

Anya smirked.  “Sadly, I seem to have left mine at home.”

“Which is why I brought it with me when I came.”  Her father winked at her triumphantly before exiting the kitchen.

Silence reigned between the girls, each one trying to ignore the monumental awkwardness of the moment.

“So your dad…”

“Yep.”

“That was quite a dress.”

“Uh-huh.”

Lexa smiled cautiously, peering over at her cousin.

“So you’re not embarrassed at all?”

Anya shrugged.  “Not even a bit. I’d rather have him looking flamboyant in a dress and heels than scaring the crap out of my friends in his service blues and badge.”

Lexa’s eyebrows shot halfway up her forehead in agreement.  “Yeah, that’s for sure.”

Anya smirked at her younger cousin.  “You still wanna hear my idea about how we get you to talk to Clarke?”

Wells tried not to make a face as he took a sip of his bourbon.  He forced himself to swallow, grimacing at how the liquid burned when it slid down his throat.

Clarke looked on, concerned as she watched him scowl at the liquor’s aftertaste.  “You’re sure you don’t want to switch with me?”

He shook his head,  “No. Bourbon is supposed to be a man’s drink. I can hold my own.”

Clarke nearly spat her liquor out, choking on laughter. “Really? This is what you’ve chosen to be a tough guy about?”

Wells gave her a wounded look, taking a large gulp in an attempt to prove he could manage the alcohol.  He swallowed hard, wincing as the fiery liquid slid down his throat.  “Ugh!  Oh g-d, that’s awful!”

His eye screwed shut, and his mouth puckered as he handed the drink over to Clarke.  “You win.  Let’s switch.”

Clarke rolled her eyes and swapped his bourbon for the vodka he’d given here.  “Finally.  You’re lucking out actually, that vodka goes down pretty smooth.  Whatever you grabbed me, it seems like pretty top shelf stuff.”

Wells coughed and bit his lip, looking guilty as she shuffled from foot to foot in front of the blonde.  “Actually…”

Clarke’s eyes narrowed.  “What?”

“I kind of..." He paused, biting his lip nervously, "ran into Lexa in the kitchen.  She’s the one who gave me the drinks.”

Clarke panicked, her nerves racing at the sound of the name. “You saw Lexa?”

Wells nodded.  “Yeah. I didn’t say anything because I thought it would make you even more nervous.”

Clarke nodded numbly.  “How did she look?”

Wells puffed out his cheeks and took a sip of his vodka.  He was relieved when the mouthful went down without protest.  “She looks great actually.”  He frowned.  “Although, she was with her cousin.”

“I’m sure you were thrilled to see her.”  Clarke gave Wells a sympathetic smile, knowing that the funny but acerbic girl had been less than charitable to Wells during their more formidable years.  “How was Anya?”

“Charming as always.”  He took a much larger swig of the vodka, enjoying the way it warmed him as it hit his stomach.  His fingers were beginning to tingle, and his face felt flushed, sure signs that the drink was beginning to have its intended effect.  “You know, nothing feels quite as good as when the people who made you miserable in high school, barely remember you a few years later.”

“In her defense…”  Clarke looked her friend up and down.  “You’ve grown a lot since then.”  Clarke grinned at him, remembering how different he’d looked when they were Freshmen. “Honestly, if you weren’t my best friend, I might not recognize you either.”

A dyed in the wool late bloomer, Wells had entered secondary school looking half as old as his male peers.  He hadn’t hit puberty in earnest until he and Clarke were already halfway through their sophomore year.  Secretly, Clarke believed that his stunted development had something to do with their sniffling social environment.  In the year following graduation, the rapid change in his physical appearance had only confirmed her suspicions.

Almost immediately upon arriving at college, Wells had gone through a tremendous growth spurt, adding four inches to his height, and gaining forty pounds of muscle. Seemingly overnight, he’d gone from a skinny, gawky teenager, to a remarkably grown-up looking man.  His angles had turned sharper, his jawline had become more chiseled, and his frame had grown bulky.  Suddenly, he was weightlifting, jogging every day, and paying more attention to his style.

The change hadn’t come as a total shock.  Towards the end of their senior year, Wells had started dating Raven, and Clarke was confident that the relationship was at the root of his increased efforts.  Beautiful as the day was long, Raven attracted the attention of everyone in her path, male peers in particular.  That fact had apparently made an impression on Wells, and for better or worse, it appeared to have moved him to action.

Clarke cleared her throat, gesturing towards his bulky arms, causing Wells to glancing at the floor awkwardly.  Even though he’d grown muscular and tall, when it came to the subject of his body, Wells remained quick to embarrassment.  Having not become cocky or conceited since his transformation was, in Clarke’s opinion, one of his best qualities.  She smiled at him, extending a hand to squeeze his bicep.  “You kind of look like you ate the old you.”  She winked.

Wells rolled his eyes, anxious to change the subject.  “So, you going to talk to Lexa or…”

“WELL LOOK WHO IT IS!”  A voice slurred loudly from the front of the living room, interrupted Wells, mid-sentence.

He peered over Clarke’s shoulder nervously, grabbing her by the shoulder when he realized who’d just stumbled through the front door.  “Clarke, we need to move to another room.”

Clarke didn’t need to ask what had caused the sudden change in Wells’ demeanor.  She recognized the voice without looking, though she looked anyway.  She turned, watching as Finn Collins strode through the door brashly, a small wave of his high school friends following on his heels.  The boy’s faces were flushed, each one ruddy with intoxication.  For a moment Clarke was frozen, sure that Finn’s boisterous greeting had been directed at her.  She watched him step into the living room, his eyes locking on someone in the crowd.  A second later, a young man dressed as Donald Trump emerged from the throng of people and was pulled into a bear hug by her ex.

A great sense of relief washing over her as she realized that he had not yet noticed her presence.  She nodded at Wells, confirming her agreement that a hasty exit was in order.  The large boy flanked Clarke, blocking her from view as he took her elbow and led them up the front staircase.

As they ascended the steps, Clarke couldn’t help but steal a final, furtive glance over the railing.  Showy, and always the center of attention, Finn stood chatting away, surrounded by a huddle of his friend.  Watching him from a distance, Clarke found it hard to begrudge herself having fallen for him.  Indeed, it was easy to understand why someone would.  Finn was, if nothing else, quite handsome and relatively charming. A casual consumer would be hard-pressed to find a reason not to enjoy his company.  When it came to Finn, disliking him took genuinely getting to know him, but scratch the boy’s surface and, sure enough, you’d find plenty of reasons not to.

His persona was the result of the perfect storm of too many resources and too little supervision.  The youngest of his brothers by nearly a decade, Finn’s mother, and father had been thoroughly uninterested in parenting by the time he’d arrived.  As such, he’d spent his childhood in the care of a live-in nanny. The limited exposure to his deeply ostentatious parents had probably been for the best.  To his credit, he did exhume a slightly higher sense of humility than the rest of his siblings, though he was undoubtedly not without the resounding sense of entitlement that was the hallmark of his family.

At sixteen, he’d been all shaggy hair, and rakish confidence, coupled with a startling level of autonomy that had made him seem mysterious, and grown-up. The first time they’d met, Finn was leaning casually out of the driver’s side window of a shiny Land Rover Sport; distinctly new and inappropriately expensive for a teenager.  He’d been talking with his friends, silently observing every girl that passed by.  Clarke, he’d spoken to though, stopping her dead in her tracks with a sly wink, and offering her a ride home.

It was easy for Clarke to look back on that day and want to scold herself for being so impressionable.  Then again, Finn had been someone who hung out with Seniors, threw wild, exclusive parties, and appeared in the local paper under headings like “Collin’s leads team to state.”  At sixteen, things like that could sweep a girl off her feet, even a bright, level-headed girl like Clarke.

But impressionable or not, time reveals all, and in Finn’s case, it had revealed over-indulgence, emotional impulsivity, and possessiveness.  In spite of his better qualities, Finn was never quite able to commit himself to being a decent human being.  Though Clarke frequently saw the trappings of goodness in him, when confronted with pressure from his less than savory friends, his worse inclinations always won out.  Moreover, sports heroism aside, he was frustratingly content with personal mediocrity.  This fact was never more evident than when it came to academics.  For Clarke, that had been the most frustrating thing about him.

While he was no genius, Finn was unquestionably smart enough that, given his family’s considerable influence, he could have easily walked into a school like Harvard or Princeton.  None-the-less, he’d always been more than happy to skate by with B’s and C’s, opting instead to pursue a lacrosse scholarship to a second-tier state school.  What was most frustrating was knowing that his lack-luster scholastic achievements would never honestly hinder him.  Whether he graduated in the top ten percent of his class or the bottom ten percent, after college, Finn would be heading for a high-paying position in his father’s company.  His privileged sense of security had frequently worn thin on Clarke, who struggled to earn every A she achieved.

Finn disappeared, as Wells lead Clarke into the darkness of the second-floor hallway, not stopping until they were securely out of earshot.

“I can’t believe that jerk showed up here!’   Wells frowned, folding his hands behind his head and beginning to pace.

Clarke pursed her lips and held a finger up.  She tipped her head toward the far end of the hallway, where the name “Aden,” was spelled out in colorful, wooden letters, adorning the face of a closed door.  “Keep your voice down, Wells.  Your advisors just put his son to bed.”

Wells bit his lip, glancing guiltily at the door to the tiny boy’s room.  “Sorry,” he whispered nervously, “but I don’t understand what he’s doing here.”

He glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one had followed them up the stairs. “I mean, I had Raven check his Facebook page before I invited you.  She said he was going to be up in New Hampshire for the weekend.”  Wells inhaled deeply, pushing the breath out through gritted teeth.  He gave Clarke an apologetic look.  “Clarke, I’m so sorry.  I wouldn’t have brought you if I’d known.”

She sighed. “Honestly, I probably should have known he’d be around.”

In high school, Finn and his friends had made a tradition out of the getting drunk at the Halloween festivities in nearby Salem.  They’d start with a case race at the fall carnival, and proceed to the Haunted Happenings festival, where they’d spend the rest of night stumbling between whatever bars turned a blind eye to fake IDs.  With Halloween landing on a Friday, Clarke might have guessed that Finn would be coming home for the weekend, trying to re-live his glory days.

She closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing nerves.  To be sure, the situation wasn’t ideal, but then again, she knew that they were bound to run into each other sooner or later. Perhaps it was a good thing that it had happened here, at a party where the presence of genuine adults might serve as a deterrent to any bad behavior Finn and his friends cooked up.

She forced herself to smile, almost managing to pretend that her ex’s current proximity didn’t bother her.  “Wells, we live in a small town.  I wasn’t going to be able to avoid him forever.”

Wells eyed her suspiciously, torn between accepting that she was right, and wanting to scuttle her away from the scene as quickly as possible.  He nodded, thinking over their predicament.  “Look, you’ll have to deal with him eventually, but that doesn’t mean it has to be tonight.”

He gestured towards the staircase at the other end of the hall.  “Those lead to the hallway outside the kitchen.  I’m pretty sure that I remember seeing a backdoor in there.”

Wells pointed to the bathroom just across the hall from them. “Why don’t you hide in there while I go make my excuses to Professor Woods.  Once I’ve said goodbye, I’ll make sure Finn and his buddies aren’t nearby, and text you when it’s safe to sneak down the back stairs.  Then, we can get out of here.”

Clarke considered Wells’ proposal.  It certainly felt like the coward’s way out, but from a tactical standpoint, allowing herself to avoid Finn was probably the right decision.  Granted, she would need to confront him eventually, but when she did she’d prefer to be prepared, and not dressed head-to-toe in cosplay garb.

“Ok. I think that is probably for the best.”  Clarke headed for the bathroom, reluctantly consenting to Wells’ exit strategy.  She eyed him thoughtfully before shutting the door.  “Do me a favor though.”

“Anything.”

“If it takes more then fifteen minutes for the coast to clear, will you bring me up another drink?  It’s bad enough that I’m hiding from my ex in a stranger’s bathroom.  Please, don’t make me do it sober.”

Wells smirked.  “Of course.”

“Do you honestly think this is going to work?” Lexa's voice sounded weirdly distorted as it echoed from behind the plastic helmet.  She clutched her the prop blaster that completed her costume, shifting awkwardly beside her cousin.

“I’m sure.  Stop worrying.”

“But what if she realizes it’s me?”

Anya rolled her eyes.  “Lexa, your face is completely hidden, and the way you’re voice is echoing in that thing, it makes you sound like a robot.  I promise she won’t realize it’s you.  You have every reason to be confident.”

Lexa tried to think of a smartass reply but stopped herself when she noticed Anya’s eyes fix on something.  “Uh-oh. Look who’s here.”

Anya pointed to the far corner of the room, where a small group of unmistakably drunken boys talked animatedly amongst themselves.  Lexa knew most of them from her graduating class, recognizing several as former members of the varsity lacrosse team.  She scowled when she spotted John Murphy, one of her least favorite people.

“You don’t think Finn is with them do you?”

Anya shrugged.  “Could be, I guess.” She paused, thinking something over.  “Ben Kennedy did mention seeing him at the carnival.”

Lexa frowned, stared at one of the boys.  “Well, if that rat Murph is here, I’m sure he’s not far behind.”  She made a nauseated face, sticking her tongue out dramatically.  The effect was lost on her cousin, though the gagging sound she made got her point across just as well.

Anya surveyed the group, confirming that John Murphy’s was among them.  She didn’t harbor the kind of contempt for him that Lexa did, but Anya had to admit that there was something deeply unsettling about the boy.   His highly angular frame and thin, slightly hook-nose, gave him a delicate, almost feminine look.  In spite of his appearance, John Murphy had a shocking ability to intimidate and frighten people.  He was intelligent, mean, and a fast enough thinker that he could use words to cut someone down as efficiently as other people used their fists.  In arguments, Murphy possessed a kind of reverse volume control.  His voice would soften to a poisonous hiss as he drew nearer to anyone confronting him.   Anya had seen the tactic save him from coming to blows more than once, though she’d also seen him willingly engage in openly violent confrontations.  To be sure, Murphy was a formidable and unforgiving adversary at his best, and an unremitting sociopath at his worst.  There were even rumors that he’d missed a year of elementary school after he’d been caught trying to light a stray cat on fire.

A tingle ran up Anya’s spine as she stared at the boy.  She shook it off, trying to ignore the feeling that, even with his eyes pointed in a completely different direction, Murphy was watching them.  “Just ignore him.”  She turned back to her costumed cousin, trying not to laugh at the sight of Lexa in full Stormtrooper gear.  “So, are we going to find your girl, or not?”

Lexa scanned the room for any sign of Clarke.  When she failed to pick her out of the crowd, she shrugged.  “I don’t see her.  You think they left?”

Anya shook her head.  “Doubtful. I bet you they went to grab more drinks.”  She glanced at the kitchen door.  “Want me to go check?”

Lexa rolled her eyes at her cousin.  “I think if Wells runs into you again, they’re definitely gonna leave.”

“So what then?”  Anya gave her an annoyed glance, making her impatience plain.

“I’m sure they’re around here somewhere.”  Lexa shifted, realizing that she’d been holding her bladder for quite a while.  “Look, I need to use the bathroom.  Just wait here for me.  We’ll find them when I get back.”

“Ugh!” Anya groaned, irritated to have her plan stymied by the inconvenience of Lexa’s bodily functions.  “You take forever in the can.”

“I have a shy bladder!  I don’t like to be rushed!”

“Just hurry your ass up!”

Lexa gritted her teeth, nodded at her cousin as she headed into the back hall, and made her way towards the bathroom.  She grabbed the handle and pushed, realizing immediately that the door was locked.  When as gave a courtesy knock to let the occupant know that someone was waiting, she was met with silence.  She knocked again; her subsequent efforts answered with the sound of nauseated wrenching, and watery backsplash.

Lexa jumped back from the door, thoroughly disgusted by the noise coming from inside.  She grimaced, knocking a third time, slightly lighter than before.  “Everything ok in there?”

“Occupied!”

No sooner had the slurred the reply been issued, than more gagging could be heard. Lexa cringed.  “Probably one of John Murphy’s friends,” she thought, clenching her jaw in annoyance.  She tapped her foot impatiently, realizing that it would probably be quite a while before the sloppy guest had finished relieving himself.  Groaning, Lexa cupped her hands to the door.

“You better be planning to clean up in there when you’re done!”

The sound of more vomiting was the only response.  With no intention of waiting for the party guest to finish, Lexa turned, dashing up the back stairs and jogging down the hall toward the second-floor bathroom. She grabbed the knob with her free hand, confident enough in the room’s vacancy that she forwent the courtesy of knocking.  Lexa regretted her decision the moment she threw open the door.  There, sitting on the toilet with her head resting in her hands, was Clarke Griffin.

Lexa froze, her hand still on the doorknob, her mind an absolute blank.   She knew there was a proper response to a situation like this, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what it was.  To make matters worse, Clarke was now staring at her, making it even harder for her to form a coherent thought.  Clarke gave Lexa an annoyed look.

“Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?” she deadpanned.

Lexa let out an awkward chuckle, unable to contain her laughter at the admittedly well-timed and correctly delivered line.  The ice now efficiently broken, Lexa’s senses came rushing back to her, and she realized that she was still standing in the bathroom doorway, starring at the occupant one whom she’d just intruded.

She shook her head rapidly, trying to clear her mind as the telltale flush of embarrassment crept into her cheeks.  “Oh, G-d!  I’m so sorry!”  She brought a hand up to cover her eyes. “I didn’t think there was anyone in here.”

Clarke shifted in her seat, resting her head against the wall.  “Relax, you’re fine.  I’m not using the bathroom.”

“Oh!” Lexa paused, realizing for the first time that Clarke was fully clothed, her pants securely around her waist.  “Um… Sorry… Why are you in here?”

“Honestly?”  Clarke looked at her, deeply disheartened.   “I’m hiding from an old boyfriend.”

Lexa brought a hand up to scratch the back of her head.  A sense of relief washed over her as her fingers hit hard plastic, and she realized that she was still fully masked.

“Look, I sympathize with you and all, but…”

The sound of a young man’s voice echoed up from the front stairs, and Clarke’s eyes went wide realizing that it belonged to Finn’s good friend, John Murphy.

Clarke shot upright, abruptly waving the costumed stranger towards her.  “Get in! Get in!  Shut the door!”

Without thinking, Lexa quickly ducked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her, and locking it.  She deposited her blaster on the counter, and leaned towards the door, listening for movement.  The sound of footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs, making their way down the hallway toward them, stopping just outside the door.  Lexa watched as Clarke went white as a sheet, her chest rising and falling with panicked breaths.  The handle turned, and the door shook, as the boy on the other side tried to force it open.

“Someone’s in here! Um… probably gonna be a while.”  Lexa’s mind raced, trying to find any excuse that would encourage the boy not to linger.  “Try the bathroom in the downstairs hallway.”

The young man grumbling something about girls taking too much time in bathrooms, but Lexa’s quick thinking seemed to do the trick.  A moment later, his footsteps could be heard heading back down the stairs.

Clarke let out a long, slow breath and she resumed her seat.  “Thanks. I owe you one.”

Lexa nodded, staring at the girl and shuffling from foot to foot as she tried to hold her bladder.

“Hey look, I’m not trying to kick you out of hiding or anything, but I’m like three beers in.”  She nodded at the toilet.

Clarke’s eyebrows shot up in realization.  “Oh, G-d!  Of course, please…”  She jumped up abruptly, waving a hand toward the fixture, and turning around to give her co-occupant privacy.  “Go ahead.”

Lexa eyed Clark reluctantly.  Mask or no, the last thing she wanted to do was disrobe in front of the girl she’d secretly pined for since high school.  None-the-less she was getting desperate, and if she waited any longer, she might have a lot more to be embarrassed about then merely walking in on Clarke in a bathroom.

Resigning herself to the situation at hand, Lexa crossed the room, tentatively lifting the lid of the bowl.  She comforted herself with the knowledge that, in spite of how embarrassing the encounter was becoming, she was at least cloaked in anonymity.  Lexa grasped at the zipper in the back of her costume, tugging at it in vain.  She pulled at it impatiently, her frustrated grumbling catching Clarke’s attention.

“Everything ok back there?”

Lexa continued to pull at the infernal garment without success.  “Yeah, it’s just this damn zipper.”

Clarke turned slightly, watching as the stranger struggled in vain.

“Here, let me help you with that.”

Lexa’s whole body stiffened as she felt a palm press softly on the shoulder.  The cool fingertips of Clarke’s other hand grazed Lexa’s neck, making her whole body tingle.  Clarke Griffin, the same girl she’d longed to touch, to hold, to kiss, was undressing her.  It all would have felt very intimate if the context hadn’t been so wholly ridiculous; trapped in a bathroom and dressed up as science fiction characters.  She closed her eyes, trying not to think about how close Clarke’s body was to hers, or how she could feel the girl’s warm breath against her neck.

“There.  All done.”  Clarke stepped away, taking a seat on the lip of the bathtub, turning away, and shielding her face.

Lexa took a deep breath, trying to quiet her mind, which now overflowed with thoughts of how good Clarke’s hands had felt pressed against her skin.   “Thanks.”  She shimmied her costume down to her knees and took a seat, relieved that Clarke had been considerate enough to respect her modesty.  She relieved herself quickly, hurriedly pulling her clothing back on the moment she was finished.  Fortunately, her costume’s zipper was more cooperative going back up, and Lexa felt fortunate to not need Clarke’s help a second time.  She doubted she could process the feeling of having those hands on her body again without imploding.

Clarke was still turned away slightly when Lexa began washing her hands, and the brunette took the opportunity to steal a look at the girl through the reflection in the bathroom mirror.  She smiled, unsure how a year and a half had managed to make the blonde even more attractive than she had been in high school.  Still, there was no denying it; her face had lost some of its cherubic roundness, giving way to a more significant angularity that made her appear more grown up, more elegant.  Conversely, her body seemed fuller, softer, her curves having grown and rounded, some of them quite generously.  Lexa attempted to focus her mind, trying desperately not to think about what those curve would feel like pressed up against her.

“So you just going to hide out in here all night?”

Clarke dropped her hand, realizing it was safe to turn around.  “No, not exactly.  I came with a friend.  He’s supposed to text me when the coast is clear so that we can sneak out the back.  I don’t know what’s taking him so long though.”

Lexa nodded, feigning ignorance.  “I was just downstairs.  What does your friend look like?”

“He’s about 6’ 2”, handsome, dark skin, dressed as Finn from The Force Awakens.”

The stormtrooper nodded.  “Oh, that guy.  I just saw him talking to Professor Woods.  You might be up here for a while.”  She turned the faucet off and shook the excess water from her hands.  “That guy can talk people’s ears off.  It’s pretty hard to sneak away once he gets going.”

Clarke groaned.  “Ugh.”  She looked at the stranger’s reflection in the mirror.  “I take it you’re one of his students too.”

Lexa paused, unsure of what to say.  She knew that this was her opportunity to come clean, but part of her loathed knowing that, the instant she did, their conversation would become awkward and untenable.  Moreover, this was undoubtedly not how she wanted her first real discussion with Clarke to begin.

“I am. I was in his Marine Ecology class last year.”  It wasn’t a total lie.  She had genuinely taken the course with her father during her deferment year at State.

Lexa dried her hands on a nearby towel and leaned against the sink.  “So… You’re hiding up here because of an ex-boyfriend?”

The blonde shrugged “Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

Clarke bit her lip, looking hesitant.  “Well… There’s also a girl I’m trying to avoid.”

“Someone you don’t like?”

She shook her head.  “No, no, the opposite.  I like her very much; I just can’t work up the nerve to talk to her, especially with my ex here.”  Clarke rolled her eyes, slightly disgusted with herself.  “And anyway, even in high school I could barely say two words to her.  I couldn’t even talk to her when we played soccer together.”

Lexa’s pulse shot through the roof.  Her mind began racing uncontrollably as she processed the bombshell Clarke had just dropped.  The same soccer team could mean Anya, but then again Clarke hadn’t made the varsity squad until Junior year after Anya had graduated.  She could have been talking about Octavia, but they had talked non-stop, and besides, she wasn’t in attendance.  That left only one option, and as Lexa realized that Clarke was talking about her, her heart began to beat so loudly that she was sure Clarke could hear it pounding in her chest.  None-the-less, she did her best to remain calm, and not blow her cover.

“You never know. I think most people are shy in high school. Maybe this girl secretly wanted to talk to you too.”

Clarke gave her a skeptical look.  “I doubt it.  She wasn’t exactly the shy type.  If she’d been interested in me, I’m sure she would have said something.  Either way, tonight’s not the best night for me to try and find out.  Not with my ex here.”

The minute she brought up Finn again, Clarke’s face turned anxious, and she ran a hand through her hair in exasperation.  “He’s a real piece of work.  Our breakup was pretty bad.  I know should confront him about it eventually, but I just haven’t been able to.”

Lexa nodded.  She knew that if she lingered in the conversation any longer, she’d be asked to make introductions, definitely giving herself away.  It seemed clear that if she was going to escape without being found out, now was the time.

Lexa moved back to the door, opening it a crack to make sure the hallway was empty before she stepped halfway through.

Behind her, Clarke sighed.  “You must think I’m pretty pathetic, hiding up here from an ex-boyfriend.”

Lexa looked back at the girl sympathetically, wishing she could be more comforting.  “I don’t think that.”  She paused.  “But, if you don’t mind, can I say one thing?”

Clarke cocked an eyebrow questioningly but nodded.

“I do think that the longer you put off confronting someone, the less likely you are to confront them at all.  Sometimes, its best to just get it over with, even if the circumstances aren’t ideal.”

Lexa held her breath, waiting for Clarke’s reaction, and worrying that the advice had made her seem condescending.  Instead, Clarke smiled, bashfully nodding her agreement.

“You’re probably right.” She laughed a little, staring at the masked figure.  “Whoever you are, you give pretty good advice.”

“I’ve had lots of practice.”  Lexa paused, checking again to make sure the hall was empty.  “Are you sure you want to wait for your friend?  I can go down and check to see if the coast is clear if you still want to want to sneak out the back.”

Clarke shook her head.  “That's’ ok.  I’m sure he won’t be much longer.”

Lexa gave Clarke a final nod.  “Ok, well… Good luck.  I hope that your night gets better.”  With that, Lexa grabbed the plastic gun off the counter and stepped into the hallway, shutting Clarke back in the tiny bathroom.  For a moment she lingered outside the door, her conscience waging a battle over whether or not she should go back and tell Clarke the truth.  In the end, she decided it was better to spare her the melodramatic reveal, letting the poor girl alone to sneak out of the party, dignity intact.

Lexa padded back down the hallway, deciding she had better see what had become of the downstairs toilet.  She hoped that the wretching boy had had the decency to clean up after himself, and was not currently passed out in a pool of his bile.  Lexa hurried down the winding staircase and into the back hall, where the smell of vomit greeted her like an unwelcome house guest.  She shut her mouth tight and pinched her nose as she peered through the door of the bathroom, grimacing when she saw the chaos inside.  What had formerly been the contents of someone’s stomach was now filling up the bowl.  The mess had splashed across the porcelain and down the sides, covering the fixtures in slimy, reddish-brown sick.  Whoever had used the facility immediately afterward had been disgusted enough that they hadn’t bothered to lift the lid.  As a result, urine was spattered where the person’s aim had failed.  Lexa nearly jumped out of the room as she closed the door firmly, terrified to look at the savagery any longer.

“Holy shit! What the fuck is that smell?”  Anya appeared, her face screwing up in agony as she made her way down the hallway from the living room.  “Did you just get sick in there?”

Lexa shook her head vigorously, eyes watering at the lingering odor.  “G-d no!  It was one of Murphy’s friend, I think.  I heard him puking in there earlier, but I didn’t realize it was this bad.  She pinched her nose again, trying to block out the scent.  “Oh man!  It’s awful in there.”

Just then, the girls overheard the sound of someone being shoved.  The heated tones of an argument, still in its infancy, began echoing through the kitchen door.

Lexa rolled her eyes.  “Shit.”  She looked at Anya with worried suspicion.  “What now?”

Anya smirked, always one to enjoy a bit of heightened social drama when it was available to her.  “Bet you anything Murphy and his boys are getting into it with one of you’re dad’s Sea Geeks.”

“Don’t call them that.  They’re Marine Biology students.”

“Whatever.”

Lexa frowned “I can’t believe I have to deal with this.”

Suddenly, one of the muffled voices grew more serious.  “You need to get out of my way, now!”

The tone of the conversation was turning more dangerous, and Anya and Lexa exchanged worried glances.

“We better..”

“Get in there, yeah.”  Lexa nodded, barging through the swinging door, her cousin following just behind.

The scene in the kitchen was quite a bit more sinister then either of the girls had imagined.  Wells stood holding the back door open, one hand clenching the knob in a vice-like grip, while the other curled and uncurled into a balled fist.  He looked furious, his breathing fast and agitatedly as he seethed at the boy leaning against the side of the refrigerator, just across from him.  A very drunken Finn Collins relaxed against the cold metal, one foot folded against the appliance for balance as he leaned back, sneering at the bigger boy.  Wells’ way out was blocked by an even more contemptuous looking John Murphy, who lingered in the doorway, his elbows his propped up against the frame.  A bottle of vodka was clenched in his left hand, and Lexa’s temper began to boil, realizing it was the obscure brand her father drank.

“If you pilfered that from this house, you better put it back,” she fumed at the angular boy as she strode up to them, positioning herself between Wells and Finn in case their tempers flared.  Anya settled in beside her, readying herself to hold someone back if things escalated.

Murphy stared back at her nonplussed, taking a swig from the bottle and smiling at her defiantly.  “Sorry, I don’t take orders from cosplay nerds.”

Wells continued to stare at Finn, looking like a volcano about to erupt.  “LET! ME! LEAVE!”

Wells free hand curled up into a fist again and remained balled up this time.

Finn’s lips turned up into a thin, sardonic smile, his teeth showing as though he were a snarling dog.  “Look, just tell me where she is, and you can go.”

Well set his jaw, his balled first clenching tighter as he pushed out a hard breath.  “I already told you, she’s not here.”

Murphy grinned.  “Yeah, you’re full of shit man.  I saw that picture she posted to snapchat earlier.  I know she came here with you.”  He straightened up and stepped forward, reaching his free hand out to stroke the corner of Well’s jacket.  “Nicely done, by the way.  I didn’t think it was possible for you to look like more of a loser than you did in high school, but you’ve outdone yourself.”

Wells slapped his hand away forcefully, eliciting mocking laughter from Murphy, who returned to his post in the doorway.  Wells’ breathing sped up, and he began leaning forward, ready to lunge at his tormentor.

Annoyed with the antics of the boys, Anya chose that moment to intervene.  “Hey, fuckwits!”  She waved her hands irritatedly for their attention.  “You ALL need to leave.  Now!”

Finn glanced over at her, frowning as though he was a small child who’s nanny had just told him it was time for bed.  “What’s you’re problem Anya?  This isn't your concern.”

Anya stepped forward, her facial expression a thousand different shades of “don’t fuck with me.”  She stopped when she was half a foot from Finn’s face, staring him down with a fierce gaze.  “Actually, it is my concern.  This is my Uncle’s house, and I’m confident you weren’t invited.  You’re drunk, and your trespassing.  You need to leave, before I…”

“Before you what?  Go running to those faggot cops you call fathers?”  John Murphy took another pull from the bottle, giggling at his sidebar.

Anya’s face turned bright red, her first clenching immediately.  “YOU MOTHER FUCKER!”  She lunged forward.

“Whoa!” Lexa jumped between Anya and the boy, catching the furious girl around the chest, and pushing back as hard as possible, one hand still awkwardly clutching her blaster.   Lexa had forgotten how strong the slender girl was, and she found herself bracing her legs as she frantically attempted to talk sense into her cousin.  “Anya stop!  Aden is right upstairs!  Do you want him to come down and see this!?”

Lexa’s argument seemed to calm Anya enough for her to regain some sense of control, though she continued to push against her cousin, straining to get closer to the smug looking Murphy, her voice oozing fury as she addressed him.  “GET OUT! NOW!”

“Wells? What’s happening?”

Everyone turned at the sound of the new voice, the argument’s momentum momentarily derailed.  Lexa cringed, realizing that Clarke had entered the kitchen, and confident that things were about to go from bad to much worse.

“Well, what do you know?”  Murphy crooned sarcastically. “Tits McGee did show up.”  He winked at her.  “Say, Princess, how about you and I have a few drinks and work on some full frontals to go with that topless only stuff.”

For a moment, the comment hung in the air like poison gas, and everyone was frozen in time, choking on the sheer nastiness of it.  Then Clarke’s face fell, her crestfallen expression a mix of violated honor and hopelessness.  She looked as though she’d just taken a dagger to her heart, and as Lexa stared at her face, she recognized the telltale signs of someone on the verge of tears.

That was all it took for Lexa to see red.  Her thoughts of holding Anya back were instantly forgotten as she spun on her heels, reflexively gripping the prop gun she held in both hands, and lunging at Murphy.  She raised the plastic rifle to her chest and wound back, a fraction of a second all she needed to catch him off guard, as she sent the blunt end of the rifle slamming into his face.

The hardened plastic collided full force with the boy’s nose, filling the air with the sickening sound of cracking bone.  Murphy flew backward, his eyes screwing shut as he let out a guttural moan that made him sound more like a wild animal than a boy.  The bottle flew out of his hand, shattering as it landed on the lawn.  Blood immediately began streaming from his nostrils, pouring first onto the tile, and then the wood of porch, as he stumbled backward through the doorway, tripping down the back steps.  He landed on his back in the grass, cupping his hands to his injured face and moaning violently.

A chain reaction of shouting, grabbing and frenzied scrambling followed.  Finn dove for Lexa, swinging.  She managed to react quickly, jerking her body out of the way just in time to avoid the worst of the blow, though his fist managed to graze her just above her jawline, knocking her plastic helmet off as his knuckles scraped her cheekbone.  A second later Finn was snatched up by Wells, who twisted his hands into the smaller boy’s shirt, forcing him out the door, Lexa, Anya and Clarke hot on their heels.  The boys grappled madly on the porch, eventually forcing each other too close to the edge, and tumbling down the steps.  They hit the ground hard, rolling apart and coming to rest a few feet away from one another.  Anya pulled out her camera phone and hit record, half for posterity’s sake, and half for the social values the video would have.  Clarke sprinted towards Wells, helping him to his feet.  Her pulse quickening as she noticed the sizable gash that had formed where his face had collided with the porch steps.

“Wells, your forehead!”

The boy reached up and touched his face tentatively.  He looked queasy when his fingers came away coated in dark, red blood.  “How bad is it?”

Clarke stared at the layers of torn skin and fatty tissue visible through the wounds, almost sure she could see the white of his scalp, but confident that Wells didn’t need to know that.  “I think you’re going to need a few stitches,” she cautioned.

A moment later Finn was back on his feet.  He wobbled unsteadily, drunk, concussed, or some mix of the two.  Murphy was still groaning as he struggled to his knees, peering at his friend through half-open, still watering eyes.  “That bitch broke my nose!  Fucking do something, Collins!”

Lexa gritted her teeth and approached Finn.  “You take another swing, and I’m calling the cops!”  The boy rocked back and forth in confusion, suddenly unsure of himself.  He looked back at his blood-soaked friend, tripping over his feet as he tried to regain his balance.  “Murph, let’s just get out of here.”

Murphy’s eyes were furnaces, his hands shaking with rage as he swayed on his knees, gasping, and glaring fire and brimstone in Lexa’s general direction.  For a moment, it seemed as though that would be the end of it; that the boys would pack it in and leave it at that.

“Fuck that.” In a flash, Murphy was on his feet, having snatched the remaining portion of the broken vodka bottle off the ground.  He rushed towards Lexa and wound his arm back and began to swing.

“Police!”

A massive streak of yellow blew past Lexa, intercepting the boy only inches from his target, and tackling him with all the force of a freight train.  The two bodies landed with a thud in the grass, their impact hard enough that an imprint was visible.  Murphy whimpered painfully as the large man began to climb off, forcing an oversized knee into his back.  He wrenched one of Murphy’s arms behind him, slapping a handcuff around the wrist.  As he secured the boy second arm, he began to speak, his syrupy, slightly hoarse voice reciting Miranda Rights verbatim.

“You have the right to remain silent.”  He slapped the other cuff around Murphy’s remaining wrist.

“Anything you say can and may be used against you in a court of law.”

The remaining young people watched in awe, as Murphy continued to be read his rights.  When the man had finished with the formalities, he turned back to the group, looking furious.

“Does somebody wanna explain to me what the hell is going on here?”

Anya spoke first.  “Dad, what are you wearing?”

The man seemed to regain his composure. “What you don’t get it? He gestured up and down at his outfit.  Now that he was not diving through the air, it was clear that he was dressed as a giant banana.  “I’m a fruit.”

“Oh, Jesus.”  Anya rolled her eyes at her father’s terrible sense of humor, bringing her hand to her face in mortification.  “Why aren’t you in uniform?”

His daughter's embarrassment seemed to better the man’s spirits, and he smiled a little, dragging Murphy to his feet.  “I just got off.  I was coming over to meet you and your father.”

“Everything ok, Nyko?’

A uniformed policewoman stepped out of the squad car that had pulled up moments earlier, eyeing the party suspiciously.

“It’s fine Indra.  I got him before he could hurt anybody.”  Nyko tightened the cuffs, causing Murphy to wince.  “Now, is anybody going to tell me what’s going on here or are Indra and I going to have to bring all of you down to the station?”

Lexa stepped forward, anxious to explain the situation.  “Uncle Nyko it’s my fault.  I started it.”  She looked at Murphy, who was still glaring daggers at her.

Nyko looked the boy over, examining his apparently broken nose.

“She did this to you?”

Murphy nodded.

Nyko frowned.  “Lexa, I hope you have one hell of an explanation for yourself.”

“She was defending me,”  Clarke interjected.  She swallowed hard as the gruff looking man’s eyes turned to her.  “He was kind of being,” she paused, “threatening.”

Nyko cocked his head to the side.  “You’re gonna have to do better than that kid.”

Clarke sighed, resigned to the fact that if she was going to save Lexa a trip to the police station, she had no choice but to be completely frank.

“That one,”  she pointed at Finn. “He’s my ex-boyfriend.  A couple of months ago we broke up, and he sent…”

Clarke steeled her nerve, hating that she was about to lose face, but knowing that it was the right thing to do if it meant help the girl who’d just defended her honor.

“He forwarded some pretty candid photos of me a bunch of his friends.”  She grimaced, hating how the words sounded coming out of her mouth.

“Lexa was defending me because he," she pointed at Murphy, “was bothering me about it.  He told me I should have a few drinks with him so he could take… You know.”

Nyko’s face hardened as he turned his gaze from Clarke to the boy in front of him.  “Is that so?”

Finn finally seemed to snap out of his haze, rushing to his friend's defense.  “He was fucking kidding!  That bitch hit him out of nowhere!”

Before Finn knew what was happening, Nyko had reached out a meaty hand to grab him and pulled the startled boy in close.  “That my niece you’re calling a bitch, kiddo.  You wanna try that again?”

Finn gulped.  “I was just saying Murphy wasn't serious. She attacked him over a joke.”

“Hey, Nyko!”

Nyko turned his attention back to Indra, who’s was now focused entirely on Wells, the giant boy having abruptly taken a seat in a moment of dizziness.

“I think this one’s gonna need the truck.”

Nyko released the terrified young man.  He groaned, frustrated that what should have been a pleasant family evening was slowly turning into a work emergency.  He looked at his daughter pleadingly.  “Anya sweetie, do me a favor and call an ambulance.

Murphy rolled his eyes at the scene, furious that he was being treated so prejudicially while Lexa and her friends seemed to be getting off the hook.  He frowned at Indra, forgetting himself as his temper rose.  “Bitch, what about me?  You think me nose is just gonna fix itself?”

Anya surged forward brandishing a balled fist at Murphy, furious with his disrespect.  “That’s my G-d mother you’re talking to, asshole!”

Nyko snapped his fingers loudly, extending his arm toward his daughter and holding up a hand to silence her.

“Hey!”  He pointed threateningly at Anya.  “Anyone else throws a punch tonight, and they’re gonna end up in cuffs with a disorderly charge.”

Nyko pulled Murphy forward, staring at the unfortunate boy.  “As for you, you threatened someone with a broken bottle.  That’s assault with a deadly weapon.  Broken nose or not, you’re taking a trip to the station.”

He eyed each of the young people in front of him, trying to look as menacing as he could.  “All, of you wait here.”  Nyko narrowed his eyes as he grabbed Murphy by the collar with his free hand, directing him towards the waiting squad car.

Lexa watched as her uncle shoved the boy into the back seat of the vehicle and walked around to the driver’s side, radioing the code back to his dispatcher.  She turned back to Clarke, who was on the ground again, pressing a folded cloth to Wells’ forehead.  Lexa walked over to her, crouching down beside the girl.

“Can I do something to help?”

Clarke shook her head.  “I think I’ve got it.”

Lexa nodded.  “So…”  She searched for the appropriate words.  “Thank you.  You didn’t have to tell my uncle all that stuff.”

Clarke kept her focus on Wells, refusing to meet Lexa’s gaze, her expression stony and hard to read.  “It’s ok. You shouldn’t get in trouble because of me.”

Nyko reappeared suddenly, frowning at the group.

Clarke grabbed Wells’ hand, placing it on the cloth so he could keep pressure himself.  She and Lexa both rose as Finn made his way over to the officer, waiting to hear what the rest of their fates would be.

“The ambulance is on its way.”  Nyko looked around the group slowly, allowing the silence to linger, filling them with dread.  Finally, he cleared his throat.  “As for the rest of you, you’re free to go, for now.”

Finn looked at Nyko impatiently.  “What about Murphy?”

“Kid, he went after my niece with a broken bottle and sexually harassed someone.  He’s coming to the station.”

Finn’s face flushed, furious that he wasn’t getting his way.  “So you’re just gonna arrest him for pointing out that my stupid ex can’t keep her clothes on!”

“Ugh! That’s it!”  Clarke’s fist shot forward, landing a punch squarely on Finn’s nose.

The boy yelped and grabbed his face, as Nyko grabbed Clarke by the elbow, and began leading her to the car.  A moment later, Indra grabbed Finn by the collar and started walking him in the same direction.  “Come on; you’re coming too.”

The spareness of the holding cell provided the perfect backdrop to the end of Clarke’s evening.  She readied herself as footsteps approached, sure that some fresh new hell awaited her.  Lexa’s uncle appeared outside the bars of the room, looking a bit less ridiculous now that he’d changed out of the banana costume, and back into his uniform.

“Don’t look so grim, Kid.  If it makes you feel any better, it was a pretty good punch.”

Clarke gave him an unamused look, unsure why he was suddenly cracking wise with her.

“I’ll make sure to tell the judge that.  I’m sure it’ll help my case when I end up in court.”

Nyko smirked, chuckling to himself as he approached the small cell with a key ring, and unlocked the door.  He walked into the room casually, taking a seat near Clarke on the metal bench along the wall.  

“Kid, if I arrested women for punching their idiot ex-boyfriends, these cells would be full from dawn till dusk.”

Clarke looked at him skeptically, her mood lightening as the realization of what he was saying dawned on her.

“So… I’m not in trouble?”

Nyko shook his head.  “No, I just wanted to scare you. But listen, what you said about you ex sending those pictures of you to all of his friends…”  His face grew serious.  “Cyberbullying is taken pretty seriously these days. You know, you can file charges if you want to.”

Clarke shook her head.  “No. I mean thank you for offering, but honestly, I just want the whole thing to be over.”

Nyko nodded, giving her a sympathetic smile.  “All right then.”  He placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.  “You’re free to go.”

Clarke paused, feeling strangely guilty that she was being let off the hook.  “What about Finn?”

Nyko rose to his feet, straightening out his uniform pants.  “Well, during our in processing search, we found a gram and a half of blow on him.  He’s gonna be here overnight, at the very least.”

Clarke shook her head, unsurprised.  “And Murphy?”

Nyko frowned.  “He’s in big boy trouble.  I wouldn’t worry about him bothering you again.”

Clarke nodded.  “So I can just go?”

“Yes.”  Nyko smiled at her.  “Actually, you’ve got someone waiting for you outside.  You probably shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

With that he turned and walked to the door of the cell, motioning for her to follow him.  Clarke waited, sure that any second he would reveal that he was kidding and that she was headed to prison.  When she was finally convinced that he was serious, she gathered her things and dashed out of the cell, following him through the station.  When they reached the front entrance, Nyko held the door open for her and winked.

“No more fisticuffs, ok kid?”

Clarke nodded vigorously, too anxious to speak as she stepped through the doorway and into the night.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to and letting her lungs filled with cold, refreshing air.  Once her pulse had slowed, Clarke made her way down the steps of the station, fully expecting to find one of her parents at the bottom, angry and ready to deliver a lecture.  Instead, she was greeted by a wild mane of brunette hair and the soft glow of muted forest green eyes.

The walk home had been, thus far, conducted mostly without speaking.  Once the prerequisite “are you ok” were dispensed with, and the assurances that Wells was alright and in capable hands had been given, Lexa had attempted to draw out the conversation by insisting that she escort Clarke home.  Unfortunately, her nerves had gotten the better of her the second they were alone, and in any case, Clarke didn’t seem much like talking.  Her powers of small talk exhausted, Lex resigning herself to a quiet walk back the Griffin house.  She did her best to keep up with Clarke, who was walking at an excited clip, anxious to get as far away from the station as possible.

They’d made it several blocks before Clarke finally slowed her pace, appearing to relax a bit once they were away from the center of town.  Lexa was surprised when Clarke stole a glance at her and smiled coyly.

“You know I should probably be angry with you.”

The comment took her by surprise, and she stuttered as she attempted to respond  “Wh… What?”

Clarke chuckled softly, folding her arms across herself to stay warm.  “In the bathroom… You let me think that you were one of your dad’s students.”

Lexa bit her lip sheepishly, knowing she had been in the wrong.  “I mean, I was one of his students last year.”

Clarke frowned just a little.  “I never would have told you all that stuff if I had known it was you.”

Lexa sighed.  “I know.”

“You should have been honest with me.”

She nodded.  “I know.”

They walked in silence for another minute or two, before Lexa worked up the courage to speak.  

“Do you want my jacket?”

Clarke shook her head.  “Thanks, I’m fine.”

Lexa swallowed, trying again.  “You know, if it makes any difference, I meant what I said.”  It was barely a whisper, and Lexa regretted the statement almost as soon as she made it, convinced that it would only irritate Clarke further.

Clarke watched the guilt-ridden girl stare at the ground; her eyes fixed on her feet. “You mean what you said about confronting my ex?”

“No, I mean about being too shy to talk to you in high school.”  Lexa stole a glance at her companion, unable to tell if the flush in Clarke’s cheek was from embarrassment or the chill.  

The girl’s breath billowed out in front of her, turning the cold night air white as she let out a long slow sigh.  “So, you knew I was talking about you.”

“I figured.”

Lexa’s hands clenched and unclenched in the pockets of her jacket, waiting desperately for Clarke to react.  She expected her to be furious, to yell, to scream at her for being sneaky.

To her surprise the blonde only laughed, groaning in amusement.  “G-d, this night really couldn’t get any worse.”  Clarke shot Lexa a look, half frustrated, half humored.  “It’s pretty hard to be mad at you when you nearly got yourself arrested defending my honor.”

Lexa laughed, relieved at her companions had a sense of humor about the evening.  “You did a pretty good job of defending it, yourself.”  She stole a sly glance at Clarke.  “Nice punch, by the way.”

“Your uncle said the same thing.”

“Of course he did.”

They strode to a stopped at the next street corner, waiting for a light to change as they exchanged nervous glances.  Clarke kicked the toe of Lexa’s boot, grinning at her.  “You’re full of it by the way.”

The light changed, and Lexa watched as Clarke headed into the crosswalk, jogging up behind her a second later.

“What do you mean?”

The blonde rolled her eyes.  “Shy was the last thing you were in high school.”  She squinted at Lexa, remembering all of the times she’d envied the girl’s ease with their peers.  “You were so cocky.”

“Hey.”  Lexa frowned.  “I was confident, not cocky.”

“Oh please.  You used to walk around our locker room, after practice, in just shorts and a sports bar.  Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to show off your abs.”

“Ah, but you did notice them.”

Both girls burst out laughing.  Clarke shoved Lexa playfully as they rounded another corner, and made their way onto a tree-lined street covered in fallen leaves.  Red, orange, and yellow, they blanketed the ground in vibrant color, making the world look as though it had burst into flames.  Clarke stared at Lexa as they walked, enamored with the way the girl chewed on her bottom lip when she was nervous, and compulsively tucked her hair behind her ear when she was thinking of something to say.  “You hardly spoke to me in high school.”

“I told you, I was shy around you.”

Clarke scoffed at the suggestion.  “Please, you barely noticed me.”

“That’s not true.”  Lexa felt suddenly defensively, wished she’d been able to work up the courage to speak to the girl years ago.

“Prove it.”

Lexa’s lip was between her teeth almost instantly, unsure of what to say.  The girls grew silent again, the noise of the falling leaves the only sound on the quiet street.

“You used to draw plants.”

Clarke's head shot up, surprised by the odd response.  “What?”

“I sat next to you in Mr. Davis’ History class our Sophomore year.  You used to draw plants in your notebook when you were bored.  Lexa smiled, stealing a glance at the blue-eyed girl.  “They were  good, especially the sunflowers.”

Clarke could only stare at Lexa, watching as her gaze returned to the sidewalk.  It seemed such an odd thing to remember, and yet it was the hallmark of someone who’d been paying much more attention then she’d realized.  “What else do you remember?”

Lexa chewed on her lip again.  “About you?”

“Yes.”

The brunette tucked her hair behind her ear.  “Everything.”  She paused, nervously playing with the zipper of her coat.  “When I met you during freshman soccer tryouts, you were wearing a green and blue friendship bracelet on your left wrist.”  Lexa looked at her shyly, feeling enormously exposed as she elaborated on the memory. “The knotted kind.”

Clarke was utterly stunned that anyone would remember such a seemingly unimportant detail.  “Wells made that for me.  How… I mean… Why on earth do you remember that?”

Lexa shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I just remember seeing it and feeling weirdly envious.”

“Of me?”

She shook her head.  “No.  I was jealous of whoever knew you well enough to make bracelets for you.”

Clarke felt her cheeks flush at the candid confession.  Something about Lexa’s small but specific memories felt incredibly intimate.

“What do you remember about me?”  Lexa smirked at Clarke, wiggling her eyebrows mischievously.  “Other than my outstanding abs, obviously.”

Clarke groaned at the obnoxious comment.  “So cocky, Woods.”  She rolled her eyes dramatically.  “I remember when you got your tattoo.”

Lexa groaned, trying not to let her embarrassment show.  She touched the spot on her ribs where the initials were woven together in large, curling script, remembering how highly talked about it had been.  “I never understood why people made such a big deal out of that.  It was actually kind of embarrassing.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow at her.  “What did you expect, Lexa?  I’m mean, how many parents let their seventeen-year-old get a tattoo?”  Clarke laughed, giving the taller girl a smug look.  “Especially a tattoo of their girlfriend's initials.”

Lexa stopped dead in her tracks, staring at Clarke in utter confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Realizing Lexa was no longer beside her, Clarke turned, cocking her head to one side.  “AG?  Anacostia Greene? Costia pretty much bragged about it to everybody.”

Lexa shook her head, still dumbfounded.  “Costia seriously told people that?”

Clarke shrugged.  “Yeah.”  She looked sheepishly at the ground, toeing at a crack in the concrete. “I was a little jealous if I'm honest.”

Lexa stood in stunned silence for a moment before she burst out laughing.  She nearly doubled over, snickering so hard that she had to gasp for breath when she straightened up.  “Jesus!  No wonder people were talked about it so much.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow, unsure of how to interpret Lexa’s strange reaction.  “Am I missing something?”

Finally, under control, Lexa whipped a stray tear from her eye, the last of her giggles subsiding.  “AG stands for Aden Gerald, not Anacostia Greene.  It’s my little brothers first and middle name.”  Lex grew a little more serious, bowing her head slightly as she emphasized her words.  “I would NEVER get a tattoo of my girlfriend's initials.”

She made her way back over to the blonde, placing a reassuring hand between her shoulder blades as they started walking again.  “Trust me Clarke; there’s nothing to be jealous of.”

Clarke chucked, unsure why she was secretly thrilled to find out Lexa wasn’t permanently marked with the former cheerleader’s brand.  “I guess I should have known. The whole thing did seem a little out of character.”  Clarke paused.  “For you I mean.  Costia telling everyone, that part seems about right.”

As soon as she had made the comment, Clarke though better of it.  She bit her lip, worried that she’d probably offended Lexa.  “Sorry, I just meant she could just be a little bit of a showoff.  I don’t mean to badmouth your girlfriend.”

“It’s ex-girlfriend.”

Clarke’s eyes perked up.  “Oh?”

“We broke up about six months ago.”

Clarke gave Lexa an empathetic look, though she was trying her utmost not to smile.  “I’m sorry to hear that.

They started walking again, a comfortable silence falling over them as they turned onto Humphrey Street.

“I met him, by the way.”

Lexa smiled at her.  “Who? Aden?”

Clarke nodded.  “Yeah. We had a pretty adorable meet-cute earlier this evening.”

Lexa laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear again. “Was it as good as our kismet-y chance encounter in the bathroom?”

Clarke poked Lexa in the ribs teasingly.  “Well, it certainly wasn’t as dramatic, but it also didn’t involve explicit duplicity.”

“Ouch!”  Lexa clutched her chest, feigning wounded pride. “I guess I deserve that.”

“A little.”  Clarke slow as they reached a grey house with green shutters.  The light on the front porch glowed a soft white, clearly left on by thoughtful parents who’d long gone to bed.  She rubbed her arms, fighting off the chill of the night, and wishing the walk had taken a little longer.  “Well, this is me.”

Lexa exhaled a slow breath, staring at the house wistfully.  “I guess I should let you get inside.  It’s getting pretty cold out here.”

“Yeah.”  Clarke sighed.  “You know, I suppose tonight probably won’t help my case much regarding people forgetting about those pictures.”

Lexa’s face brightened up, her grin spreading from ear to ear.  “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”  She pulled her phone out of her pocket, swiping the screen and tapping its face a few times.  “Anya managed to take this during the fight in the backyard.”  She held up the phone for Clarke to see.  “She posted it to Facebook right after you got taken to the station.”

Clarke looked at the picture, her mouth nearly dropping open when she saw the hilarious photograph.  John Murphy’s face grimaced back at her form the screen, his mouth contorted in the same way that a boxer's would have been, mid punch to the face.  He was frozen, flying off his feet, as a man in a giant banana costume collided with his side, tackling him.  Clarke stared at the post, noticing that it had already gathered over 500 likes.

“No way…”  Clarke shook her head, smiling in disbelief. “I can’t believe Anya got a photograph of that.”

Lexa grinned.  “Yep.”

Clarke laughed, handing Lexa back her phone.  “That’s one of the best things I’ve ever seen.”  She exhaled sharp, regaining her composure.  “But, it doesn’t change the fact that half the men I know have topless photos of he saved to their cloud.  I think people are going to be talking about that forever.”  Clarke hung her head, not wanting to see the hurt that lingered in her eyes.

Lexa stepped forward, closing the gap between as she reached out, brushing the pad of her thumb lightly along Clarke’s cheek.  “You could always give them something else to talk about.” She waited for Clarke to look up, staring into the blue eyes that had run through her mind, every day, for years.  If there was a moment of truth, Lexa was sure this was it.  She steeled her nerve, cupped the girls face with one hand, and leaned in, pressing her lips to Clarke’s delicately.

Clarke expected to feel shocked, to feel dazed, to be stunned into awkward inaction, but instead, she felt relieved.  It was as though she was taking the first desperate gasp of air after being forced to hold her breath.  She melted into it, drawing closer to Lexa and deepening the kiss, as she pulled the girl’s bottom lip between her own, and ran her tongue along its smooth surface.  The brunette smelled like lotion and cinnamon, and the scent overwhelmed Clarke’s sense, intoxicating her to the point of dizziness.  By the time the sound of a camera phone interrupted them, the two girls were gasping for air.

Lexa panted, trying to catch her breath.  She grinned, handing Clarke her phone.  The screen displayed a perfectly captured picture of the tender moment.  “Do whatever you like with it.”

Clarke bit her lip and stared at the photograph.  “You know if I post this, people are going to talk.”

“Let them talk.”

Clarke nodded.  “What caption should I put on it?”

Lexa grinned, looking over the costume Clarke still wore. “How about ‘The Force Awakens.’”

“Lexa…”

“‘A New Hope?”

“And here I was about to invite you in.”

Lexa frowned.  “On second thought, write whatever you want.”

Clarke gave a coy smirk and looked down at the phone, typing something quickly before she handed the gadget back.  Lexa stared down her timeline, smiling when she saw what Clarke had written just below the picture.

#TheFirstOfMany

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