fragile | clexa

chapter sixty nine

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Kissing, in fact, seemed much more appealing to both of them than arguing. So Lexa kissed Clarke once, twice, thrice, until she had rolled half-way on top of Clarke with a lazy hand by her bare waist. The blanket had slipped off her naked torso and a hush of pink rose to Lexa's cheeks upon noticing. Clarke was still cupping her jaw, responding to her kisses a little sleepily but gently.

Now, with Lexa leaned over a still largely naked Clarke, who had sunk back into the bed and pillows willingly, it was a conceivably bad situation to be seen in. Their touches weren't nearly as bold as they had been last time, Lexa's hand rested respectfully in one place and her eyes were closed anyway, but she knew there was no hope for them when she heard the door open and a sharp intake of breath follow.

She drew away from Clarke hurriedly, retrieving her hands and subconsciously readied herself for a fight.

Fuck.

No fight. Oh God. Shit.

Clarke's mom.

"Mom," Clarke stumbled, pulling the blanket back over her torso hurriedly, although she knew it was too late anyway.

"Yes, it's me. I'm interrupting, I see," Abby said with a sharp edge to her words, but Clarke frantically shook her head, cheeks blazing.

"No, no, you're not. Not at all. We were just- I mean I was... she-" Clarke was close to crying.

"Heda, would you mind?" the older woman asked with a small, tight gesture to the door and Lexa knew better than to argue. In the thin black clothes she wore under the armor that she had taken off last night tiredly, she left the room, despite feeling too vulnerable without proper clothing and no weapon.

Abby closed the door with a thud, leaning against it and very obviously cutting off Lexa's way back to Clarke. The scared woman of the day before had vanished, the fright gone back to somewhere in the depth of those deep brown eyes that were sharpy trained on Lexa's.

Lexa straightened her back and lifted her chin a little to stand equal to the woman's silent stare, and maybe a little to conceal her insecurity. She hadn't been in this oh-shit-the-mom-of-my-girlfriend-found-out-about-us-what-do-I-do situation before and she was a little unsure on how to act. Stay silent until Clarke's mother would speak? Speak the truth? Refuse to let herself be handled like this and go back inside to make sure Clarke was okay? Deny their relationship and say she just kissed Clarke out of the blue?

All of them sounded equally bad.

"Would you like to explain to me what business you have in my daughter's bed like this?" Abby asked with an ever intense look.

Shit. "It's not what it looked like," she managed calmly and didn't know if it was the best possible or worst possible thing she could've said.

"Heda, respectfully, I have two daughters and I know when I walk in on something that's always exactly what it looks like. Her naked body beneath you, your hands on her, kissing- how much more proof do I need to know that you're sleeping with my daughter?"

"Ma'am-"

"Now Heda, I'm in bit of a problematic situation here," Abby continued. "If everything was normal and you were both two mindless teenagers that haven't learned how to lock doors yet, then I would give you a lesson not to break her heart and know you'd probably do it anyway. But as you might know, this is everything but normal. My daughter, who was gone for five years being physically, sexually and mentally abused and who is still immensely struggling with life and all that comes with it, is suddenly in bed with you, the mighty Commander that everyone suspected for years. That's the objective situation. You tell me what to make of it."