"I still have a couple of your t-shirts," Clarke says. "If you need something to sleep in."
Lexa takes a careful sip. "That'd be great. Thanks." And they settle back into weird silence that's been surrounding them ever since they walked through the door. And Clarke gets it. It's been awhile since Lexa's stayed over, and neither of them really know what's the protocol now.
She's fed up with nervous quietness after several minutes. "Lexa," she calls, and Lexa snaps her gaze up to meet hers. Green eyes are filled with apprehension, and Clarke tries not to flinch. "You don't have to stay if you're uncomfortable." Lexa shifts in her seat, and honestly, the notion of if is laughable. Of course she's uncomfortable. She doesn't think she's ever seen Lexa this -- unsure.
Is the prospect of spending the night with me that terrifying?
Clarke searches Lexa's markedly stoic face, and that's her answer. The worst thing is, she gets it.
"I apologize," Lexa answers after a short pause. "I didn't want to give you the impression that I don't want to be here."
"You can want to be here and still be uncomfortable," Clarke points out, "and that's the last thing I want you to feel." She pauses. Watches Lexa's gaze soften when hers does. "Lexa, it's okay. If you leave, it's okay. We'll try again when you're ready. Take it slow, remember?"
Lexa's lips twitch. "That's not something I'll forget any time soon," she says pointedly, and with Clarke's answering quiet laughter, the last of tension leaves the room. "My desire to be here far outweighs my... unease," she tells Clarke next, earnestly, sending pleasant heat to spread through her body. It only intensifies when she slides her hand across the table to take Clarke's, lightly caressing skin. "I don't want to leave," she whispers. "That's what I feel."
Clarke shakes her head. Chuckles. "How do you do this?" At Lexa's confused smile, she continues. "How do you make every moment so -- special?"
Lexa shrugs, and flashes her a small yet impish grin, and doesn't lean back when Clarke's hand finds the back of her neck and her lips find hers.
//
She wakes to sunlight beaming onto her face, and it feels less poetic than it sounds. It's far too hot and harsh on her skin, and so she groans and tries to turn around, but there's a strong arm around her waist preventing her from doing so. The more she moves, the more the grip on her tightens.
Possessive side, Clarke remembers Dr. Grant's words, and smiles as she gently scratches her blunt nails up and down Lexa's arm, prompting her to release her so she can face her. Lexa only murmurs something unintelligible in her neck and pulls her closer. She laughs.
"...Clarke?" Lexa's voice is warm with sleep, just like her body pressed up against Clarke.
"Hey," she whispers as Lexa's grip loosens enough for her to roll over and come face to face with her. She can't hold back a small chuckle at the sight before her. Lexa's eyes are hazy with sleep, a little unfocused, and her curls are wild, scattered on the pillow and partly on her face. She reaches out, brushing them away for her. Welcomes the sweet ache in her heart she's become accustomed to when Lexa gives her a smile.
"Hey." Goosebumps rise where Lexa's fingertips lazily stroke the skin of her lower back. "Sleep well?"
"Uh-huh," Clarke replies distractedly. Her whole body - her traitorous body - decides to fully focus on Lexa's small touches instead of her voice, and she's not sure she's strong enough to stop it. She's spent the whole night in Lexa's embrace, and she's slowly reaching her breaking point. They almost tipped over it last night a couple of times already, when kisses grew more and more heated and hands wandered, and Lexa's green eyes turned practically black in the dark stillness of the room.
