#hey look I’m back on my Anya is actually smart agenda

[nin-deer]

I can’t stop thinking about the fact that out of all subjects, language is what Anya is good at. I mean- her math score is understandable. She is literally learning everything from the start because she is at least a year or two younger than her classmates. (Plus the fact that she probably didn’t grow up rich so she wouldn’t even have the same type of education as them in the earlier years,,,)

Classical language, on the other hand, is something she’s more familiar with. She grew up hearing all the thoughts of the people around her, so she had to learn to interpret what they mean. Like, logistically- a sentence for an adult is much more complex than a sentence for a four six year old yet Anya is able to understand the basics of what Loid and Yor are thinking most of the time. (Especially impressive with Loid and how complex his thoughts are; the fact that Anya is even able to understand any implications is an amazing feat for her age) So reading an older, more complex text and interpreting what it means? Anya has literally been doing this ever since she got her powers, whether it was from birth or not. There are so many more examples like her ability to interpret Bond’s future sight or the whole terrorist arc but alas I’ll cut this here bc I should probably go to sleep now lol

[geralehane]

Clarke’s father is put on life support, and becoming Lexa Woods’s girlfriend is her last chance at paying his bills. It was supposed to be about money. Insensitive, immoral, impersonal. She was never supposed to fall in love with her. or, a gold digger au (gdau)

ch. 5 | read on ao3

This is really not what Clarke’s been expecting when she decided to drop by Lexa’s apartment, unannounced. She’s wearing a matching lingerie set, for fuck’s sake. The one she bought specifically for the occasion, no less.

So her surprise at having found another hot blonde in Lexa’s apartment when she’s come there with one purpose in mind is completely justified, in her opinion.

It’s not like they are dating, so technically this isn’t cheating. It’s not like Clarke has any feelings at all. Well, she does have pride, and she’s not going to lie - if Lexa’s two-timing her, it does sting a little bit. Not to mention it messes her plan up quite a bit.

All those thoughts fly through her head in a second as she stands at Lexa’s door, gaping at a tall blonde woman frowning back at her. She’s all sharp gaze and sharp cheekbones, and when it’s clear she isn’t going to acknowledge Clarke in any way other than judgmentally studying her, Clarke clears her throat and speaks.

“Is, uh, is Lexa home?”

The woman’s confused frown turns into a scowl. “You must be Clarke.” Well. This is taking hospitality to a whole new level - one far below the usual socially acceptable standard.

“That’s me,” Clarke tries not to stutter. She’s not easily scared, usually. But this woman has quite an intimidating presence. Now that Clarke gets a closer look at her, gets past her first assumption, she can see she doesn’t look like she’s just been fooling around. in fact, she looks impeccable, dressed in a manner similar to Lexa herself. Her stance resembles Lexa’s, too: tall and proud, if a bit sleeker. Just a touch more predatory.

So Lexa’s not cheating – not seeing other people, Clarke corrects herself. Who is this woman, then? An associate? Do business associates frequent each other’s apartments?

“Anya.”

Oh.

Oh, so this is – oh. This is only the most important person in Lexa’s life, as Finn once put it. Anya Chand. Lexa’s advisor and business partner.

And, judging by her glare, not a fan of Clarke’s. “Lexa,” she replies in kind, not taking her eyes off Clarke. “I was merely making the acquaintance of Miss Griffin.”

Clarke has to bite her tongue to hold a jab she really, really wants to make. But something tells her that pissing Anya off is a poor decision. She needs to ask Finn about her later. But now, she shifts her gaze from Anya to Lexa and feels a small smile tug at the corner of her lips when blue meets vibrant green. “Hey.”

Lexa’s voice softens, so subtly Clarke almost misses it. “Hello, Clarke. Is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Clarke contemplates whether pushing past Anya and entering the room would be wise. In the end, her stubbornness wins. She edges past Anya, slightly brushing her shoulder with her own as she walks in to give Lexa a soft kiss on the cheek. “I wanted to see you,” she says quietly, watching Lexa’s eyes soften with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her lips. “I’m sorry if this isn’t a good time. Wanted to surprise you.”

“You did,” Lexa lets her know, that barely-there smile still dancing across her lips like a fading shadow. “Thank you.”

“A weird thing to be thankful for.”

“Not quite how I see it.”

“Then Miss Griffin and I are more alike than I thought.” Right. Anya. Still very present and very much not a fan of Clarke. What has Lexa been telling her to have her this angry with her seconds after meeting her - barely?

Clarke struggles against the urge to childishly roll her eyes and turns away from Lexa to face Anya who’s still standing near the door. She hasn’t closed it, Clarke notes. Interesting. “I’m sorry, this is really rude of me,” she says with a smile that becomes a touch warmer when she feels Lexa’s tentative hand on the small of her back in silent support. The gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by Anya, whose glare grows colder. Huh. So I’m a rift. Interesting. “It’s just… been a while since I saw Lexa.”

Anya crosses her arms with a wry, humorless smirk. “Four days is a while?”

Clarke’s voice is quiet when she replies “yes” and glances at Lexa over her shoulder. Catches her eyes with her own once again and smiles. The gaze Lexa gives her in return sends a small, involuntary shiver down her spine, and Clarke’s not quite sure it’s a bad one. It’s loaded with so many things Clarke’s afraid to question and decipher.

And, no matter how much Lexa’s visibly trying to hide it, one of the things lurking in her eyes is hunger. For Clarke.

If it weren’t for Anya, Clarke’s pretty sure they would have already solidified the unspoken, unknown-to-Lexa deal they’ve got going on. But Anya is here, so Clarke has to make do with what she has.

She turns back to Anya. “Anyway, I think it’s time I properly introduce myself. I’m Clarke.”

Anya’s manners don’t allow her to ignore Clarke’s outstretched hand, but it’s clear as day that she wants to. Her handshake is firm but cold. “Anya.”

“My adviser,” Lexa pipes up, her hand more confident on Clarke’s back now as it rests there comfortably.

“Oh, that Anya!” Clarke pretends to be pleasantly surprised. “I’ve heard many good things about you.”

“Have you?” One sharp eyebrow rises. “Like what?”

Clarke shrugs. “You’re a great adviser.” That earns her a chuckle from Lexa and yet another wry, dark smirk from Anya who nods appreciatively. She admits I won that one, Clarke thinks to herself. So she’s fair, more or less. Good.

Awful and terrible if her plan is ever discovered, but for now, good.

//

Of course, Lexa has to take a call and of course, Clarke is left alone with Anya, both of them sitting on the couch. Clarke feels awkward. Anya, it seems, doesn’t feel like anything but staring at Clarke with a dark curious sparkle in her eyes.

She tries to build a bridge. “So how long have you known Lexa?”

“Long enough to know when she’s not thinking with her head,” Anya deadpans. “How much?”

Clarke frowns at her, confused. “Excuse me?”

“How much do you need from Lexa? I’ll pay you double to leave her alone.” Anya’s talking to her slowly and patiently - entire unlike her gaze that burns through Clarke’s skin. She’s reclined on the couch, looking relaxed in her lounging pose. But Clarke sees the angry twitch in her jaw, can trace the wrinkles near the corners of her lips that point downward. Sees the restless index finger that she taps her knee with as she continues to study Clarke. It’s clear how coiled she is, how tense. It’s clear she’s worried about Lexa.

None of this makes up for a fact that she just indirectly called Clarke a prostitute.

She sees red before stomping on it and letting out a breath. She could play dumb. Frown and tell Anya she doesn’t know what she’s talking about; but that won’t change the way Anya thinks of her. And Clarke is not dumb; nor does she want to be perceived as such.

Anya’s smirk makes a reappearance when Clarke raises her chin and presses her lips together defiantly. “Lexa has things other than money. Things that you, I’m afraid, won’t be able to offer.”

There’s a smudge of nastiness to the curl of Anya’s lips. “Ah. Like the ability to put your father into a program he desperately needs?”

Anya is smart. Anya is dangerous precisely because of this. Most of all, Anya is right. But Clarke won’t - can’t - let her know that.

She presses her lips together tighter. “That’s not what I meant.”

Anya shrugs. “But that’s what it is,” she says easily, putting her elbow on the headrest of the couch and propping her head on her hand, looking at Clarke. “I don’t believe in coincidences, Clarke; and you meeting Lexa days after your father is put on life support in her hospital could be classified exactly as such. You know,” her smirk widens, “by someone who believes in coincidences.”

“We met in a coffee shop in the middle of nowhere,” Clarke defends herself, already knowing it’s a losing battle. What is she doing?

Don’t play her games, she scolds herself.

“People have orchestrated schemes far more difficult to execute,” Anya shrugs again before reaching for her whiskey glass and taking a measured sip. She hums when it burns down her throat. Clarke grimaces and drinks some of her water, eyeing Anya’s glass enviously.

“That’s not why I’m here,” she tells Anya exactly what she’s told Lexa before. Just as expected, Anya merely scoffs.

“I’m not Lexa. I don’t fall for bullshit pretty girls spew to get what they want.” She gets suddenly serious. Her mocking smirk fades and her lips press together, deep frown etching a line through her forehead. When she looks at Clarke next, there’s no anger anymore. No glare. Only carefully masked worry underneath impassiveness. “Look, Clarke. I’m going to be honest with you and I hope you show me the same courtesy. I get it. For the first time - you’re the first girl of hers that actually makes sense. I know you don’t need her money - at least, you don’t need it for yourself. So I’m gonna say it just this once. Back off. This is your chance. Break things off and live your life and don’t ruin Lexa’s. And if you’re worried about her cutting your father off, don’t. I’ll make sure she doesn’t, no matter how she feels about the situation.”

It’s scary - how perceptive Anya is. Could Lexa have been like her has she not been blinded by her own desire?

(Or is it yearning?)

Anya’s words are smooth and flawless and they make the perfect sense, and perhaps that’s partly why Clarke feels such a strong need to defy her. That, and the fact that she can’t trust this woman at all. If Lexa’s somewhat familiar, easy to understand, her buttons known to Clarke, were pressed by Clarke already - Anya is entirely uncharted waters. Anya could be telling the truth. Or Anya could be simply waiting for her to slip up so she can expose her before Lexa, who knows why.

She doesn’t know her agenda, so she chooses to stick to her own.

Quiet, cold rage seeps into her tone when she speaks, and only some of it is for show. “That’s not why I’m here,” she repeats herself, stronger this time. “And - does Lexa know how lowly you think of her? No matter what happens between me and her, my father will be receiving treatment whether or not you ‘make sure of it’. Because he is not a part of it and because Lexa’s not like that.” the last part is emphasized. It burns at the tips of her tongue even after it slips, and Clarke’s surprised and afraid to find she believes that.

Slowly but surely, Lexa’s proved herself to be honorable. Trustworthy. Things Clarke is not - but what else is new?

Anya’s grin drips with venom. “As naive as you are young,” she notes, taking another sip. There’s danger lurking beneath her once-again-mocking tone when she says her next - and last - words to Clarke. Not like Lexa, though. The quiet danger of Lexa’s voice is exciting and intoxicating. Anya’s is terrifying.

“I’m her mentor. You’re her fling. Who knows her better?”

//

Anya’s words - Anya’s entire presence - still burns in Clarke’s mind as she sits in the hospital chair, watching her father’s still form. His lungs have been collapsing, but the new machine seems to be helping. The new room too; it’s bigger and it seems to Clarke that it’s a little easier to breathe in there. It could be her imagination.

Finn is pensive next to her, and his thumb caressing the back of her hand is nothing more than an afterthought. “Anya is dangerous,” he declares.

Clarke snorts. “Ya think?”

“Sorry. I’m just - I’m thinking out loud, I guess.”

“Just tell me everything you know about her.” Clarke sighs. Blows a fallen strand of hair away from her face. “I need to be prepared. More than I was today. Much more.”

She left Lexa’s place as soon as Lexa came back into the room, quickly making up a hurried excuse. Lexa’s leveled glare at Anya didn’t go unnoticed by her, but she couldn’t stay there any longer, too afraid of giving something away under Anya’s watchful stare. Wrong look, wrong expression, subtle stiffening at having Lexa near her - and she’s doomed.

So she ran. Lexa called her once, half an hour ago, and she shot her a quick text asking about her plans for tomorrow evening - it was mostly an impulsive decision to placate Lexa. Now, she has to plan a date and also be briefed on everything Anya. God, med school seems like a walk in the park in comparison right now.

Finn nods. “Anya is – well, if she doesn’t approve of you, it’s not that big of a deal. She doesn’t approve of anyone. She certainly doesn’t approve of any girl Lexa’s dated in the past. And she’s, like, scary smart. Both of them are, but Lexa’s blind when it comes to pretty girls,” he grins. Clarke shivers.

‘I’m not Lexa. I don’t fall for bullshit pretty girls spew to get what they want.’

“Right,” she hurries to change the topic, suddenly uneasy. “What else do you know about Anya?”

He shrugs, running a hand through his unruly hair. “Lexa listens to her a lot, and, as I was saying, she doesn’t approve of anyone - and in the end, she usually turns out to be right.”

In Clarke’s case, too. Perhaps, Anya and her could have been friends in some other world - although friends seem too strong of a word. Allies? “Perceptive. Yeah, I got that. She saw right through me, and it’s bad. I need to take care of it.”

Finn is thoughtful when he says his next words, seemingly not listening to Clarke very closely. “You know, I think - I’m pretty sure Anya’s the closest thing Lexa has to a friend,” he stares off in the distance, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “That’s really all I can give you, though. She’s not in public much, not like Lexa.”

“She mentioned she was her mentor.”

“Yeah, maybe that word works better.”

Well, shit. Anya entering the equation really messes some things up. They’ve taken a dangerous turn. She can easily persuade Lexa to dump Clarke and kick her father off the program, the last one just for the hell of it, or as punishment. Whatever it could be, Clarke’s not about to bet on her father’s life.

“I have to get her to trust me,” she muses, barely noticing Finn letting go of her hand.

“How are you going to do that? People like Lexa and her - they don’t even trust themselves.” There he goes being overdramatic again. Clarke resists the urge to roll her eyes. She has bigger things to worry about.

Anya’s close to Lexa. Anya’s her friend. Anya, most likely, genuinely cares about Lexa. That’s her strength - and her weak spot.

“I’m going to take care of her friend and mean it.”

//

Clarke doesn’t know whether to feel proud or disappointed of her date-planning skills right now as she watches Lexa hold onto the ice rink barrier for dear life. When Lexa slips and goes down, blinking up at her owlishly, a hat Clarke put on her head askew, Clarke decides to feel proud. It’s not every day you watch a billionaire fall on her ass.

She silently praises herself once again for picking a rink that’s usually deserted on a weeknight. It’s small and it’s not in the centre, but its secluded location and pretty lights more than make up for it. Right now, with the sky dark above them, the lights burn dim and warm, illuminating snow slowly falling around them. It’s a lovely view.

Lexa, clumsy and helpless, is even more lovely of a view.

“I’m sorry,” she manages through chuckles that she tries very hard not to turn into full-blown laughter. “I thought this was a cute idea for a date, what’s with it being the end of November and all.”

“Well,” Lexa huffed from where she sat on the ice, “it was. For you.”

This time, Clarke does let out a short laugh and gracefully skates over to Lexa, offering her a hand. In hindsight, she really should’ve seen this coming.

She laughs again when she’s pulled on top of Lexa. “I guess I didn’t really think there was something great Lexa Woods hasn’t mastered.”

She watches green eyes study her. There’s warmth, but there’s something as well, seated deep within Lexa’s stare. “I haven’t mastered a lot of things, Clarke.”

Clarke groans and shakes her head. “Please, don’t - none of that cryptic thing you got going on. Not tonight. Please? We’re two girls on a date. That’s it.” She stands up, helping Lexa up as well before dusting herself off. Lexa warily does the same, one hand gripping the barrier. “By the way,” she drawls. “It’s a fifth one.” at Lexa’s confused stare, she waggles her eyebrows. “You know. The fifth date. The five date rule?”

Lexa has to think for a second before her eyes widen ever so slightly. “Oh. I don’t really follow those… rules.”

Clarke takes her hand to assist her as she slowly and carefully makes her way on ice, the other hand still holding the barrier. “Do you follow any rules?” She half-teases, half-asks Lexa.

“Too many,” Lexa looks up from her feet clothed in ice skates to smile at Clarke. “You know that.” She does. She knows a lot about Lexa, right from the source - she just doesn’t know whether or not she can trust that.

Or she chooses not to, because if she does, then that makes her even more of a horrible person.

Not tonight, she reminds herself.

“So,” she says, attempting to sound cheerful. “Anya hates me, doesn’t she?”

Lexa looks up at her again, stilling her movements. A small frown settles on her features. “I want to apologize for her behavior. She’s not thinking clearly when it comes to my personal life.”

“Funny,” Clarke says. “She mentioned the same thing about you.”

Lexa’s smile is bitter. Clarke can easily see that. “She’s right. Both of us are.”

“I’m not mad at her, you know. It makes sense. For her to be like this. Especially with my dad and you and – this whole situation, I mean-”

“Clarke.” Lexa takes her hands in her own; her wobbling a bit and struggling to stay upright don’t let the moment become as serious as she no doubt intends it to. Clarke holds her up, smiling involuntary. “Clarke,” she repeats, this time with a grin and a small rolling of her eyes. “I thought we went over this already.”

“We didn’t. Not really.” Clarke sighs. “Anya is wrong about me, but I think she’s right about - I mean, she has a right to be this apprehensive. I just want you to know I don’t blame her. And I also have no idea how to prove I’m not doing this for any reason other than finding you cute in this hat,” she flicks at one of the hat’s ears, snickering when Lexa jokingly scowls and leans away slightly.

“So you think I’m cute?”

“Lexa.”

Lexa sighs. “Okay. I don’t know what to say to you, Clarke. I choose to put my trust in you. I hope that’s enough.”

“Enough? It’s everything, Lexa.” Clarke finds herself meaning her words once again as she looks Lexa in the eye. It is everything. And Clarke’s going to take that away from her.

Lexa’s silent as she continues to look at Clarke, so she speaks up. “I’m just - I want your friends to like me. At least a little.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have many of those. And I like you,” Lexa says simply. Then, she grins. “I mean. You’re alright, I guess.” her repeating Clarke’s words to her makes Clarke’s smile grow wider. She doesn’t quite realize that until it’s already there, stretched across her lips.

“I see you keep taking those risks, Miss Woods,” she teases. “Keep it up and I’ll let you fall on your ass again.”

“Too late,” Lexa says quietly, and Clarke can see in her eyes that she’s about to turn this heavy. Her next words confirm Clarke’s suspicions. “I think I already did.”

Okay. When Clarke mentioned the five date rule, she didn’t mean this. But Lexa’s leaning in and placing a soft kiss on her lips that burns - with tenderness and adoration and gentle hunger - and Clarke gasps at the butterflies in her stomach, unexpected and strange.

Lexa’s ability to make any moment so perfectly sappy astonishes Clarke as much as it confuses her feelings, it seems.

She needs to deal with it. Later. When she’s not softly kissing Lexa under slowly falling snow on an empty skate rink.

What a mess.