Might As Well

Chapter 7

"Are you two coming?" Anya asked over her shoulder as they headed up the front walk of Octavia and Lincoln's building. Lexa and Clarke were hand in hand dragging behind.

"Can you give us a sec?" Clarke asked. The truly sympathetic need in her eyes gave Anya pause.

"Fine," Anya nodded once curtly, then punched in the code to the door and let herself in. "If you're not up there in ten minutes, I'm coming back down."

"You ready for this?" Clarke asked quietly once Anya was out of sight behind the door. "Last chance to back out," she added with a sincere, reassuring smile. Lexa took a deep breath. She shook her hands out and bounced foot to foot to loosen herself up.

"I should've had another glass of wine," Lexa whined.

"Look at me," Clarke said firmly. Lexa felt the wine she drank earlier slosh through her body when she met eyes with Clarke. No words came when Clarke rested her hands on Lexa's waist. "I'm not me. You're not you. This is all fake. This is all a means to an end. A fun, if not a little weird, thing we're doing to avoid some unsavory explanations. We're going to a few parties and taking a quick trip, and in two weeks we'll just be friends who had a wild experience together and everything will be normal again."

"Right," Lexa snuck out between deep breaths. "Right."

"Let's get this out of the way while we're alone so the first time doesn't have to be in front of anyone," Clarke stretched her neck out and rolled her shoulders.

"Get what out of the way?" Lexa asked.

Clarke kissed her.

Hard.

Lexa's pure shock was evident in how stiff she was. Clarke squeezed her closer and laughed against Lexa's lips.

"And that is exactly why I wanted to get you alone," Clarke chuckled through a sigh and pointed a finger at Lexa. "Why are you like this?" Clarke giggled and gave her a little shake to break the tension.

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to kiss me?" Lexa snapped.

"Because you probably wouldn't let me! Loosen the hell up, shake it off, wrap your head around the fact that I'm not me and you're not you and kiss me again like you fucking mean it," Clarke ordered.

"Is this what you're like in relationships?" Lexa yelped. "God, you're so controlling!"

"Lexa," Clarke's face fell flat. "Our relationship is fake."

"I know!" Lexa huffed. "You're really nice and you're cool and you're fun, and a little too good at this. It's confusing."

"I'm going to kiss you now," Clarke resolved to a patient smile. "And you're going to pretend that you like it even if you don't. Got it?"

"Got it," Lexa scowled.

"Get over here," Clarke shook her head and laughed off Lexa's rigid behavior before kissing her gently this time.

Lexa didn't have to pretend that she liked it. She didn't have to pretend that she wanted her fingers tangled in Clarke's hair, didn't have to pretend that Clarke's lips woke something up inside of her that had been dead, dormant and imprisoned under layers and layers of guilt, repression and regret for years.

She didn't have to pretend that she was disappointed when Clarke pulled away.

"See?" Clarke shrugged smugly and paired it with a grin. "Was that so hard?"

"Fake me loved it," Lexa sighed through the smirk that the real her held back.

"Fake me didn't think it was so bad, either," Clarke replied. "Now let's get in there before Anya comes looking for us. Are you ready now?" Clarke nodded her head at the door.