Chapter Text
Clarke is running late, as usual.
Though, this time she actually cares that she’s late. She promised Octavia that she would help her and Lincoln paint their new apartment today, and if she’s late to that, she’ll be hearing about it, and paying for it, for an absurd amount of time.
So she jogs to the elevator lobby while pulling her hair up into a fairly messy bun. As she waits for the elevator, she thinks of what the fastest route to their apartment would be.
When the doors to the elevator finally open a minute or so later, Clarke makes her way inside of the small space, hitting the button to the first floor with a quick jab. She sighs when she feels the elevator slow just a few floors down. She doesn’t have time for this, but she can’t blame anyone for wanting to use the elevator; she’s in no position to judge. The doors open, and Clarke shifts to the side to make room for whoever is getting on the elevator.
A very attractive woman, Clarke soon sees. Green eyes, dark hair in a braid, and of course, she’s wearing a button down and blazer combo – one of Clarke’s mortal weaknesses.
The elevator suddenly shutters to a stop during Clarke’s once over of the woman. Both of them are unbalanced in the sudden stop, and the unsuspecting woman next Clarke crashes roughly into her side.
“Holy shit!” Clarke says, one hand on the wall, trying to keep her body steady as the other hand tries to keep the other women, who makes a similar exclamation, from falling to the floor. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, I think so. I apologize.” The woman stands up straight as she gains her balance back. “That was just... unexpected.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Clarke says with her bright smile.
A pause. Then, with a wrinkled forehead, “That was a rather abrupt stop.”
“Maybe someone is getting on from this floor?”
“The doors should have opened by now.”
There’s another pause. Clarke doesn’t want to admit that it has been a little too long since the elevator stopped. “Maybe it needs a second to recover after stopping like that?”
The women next to her doesn’t say anything, she just stares at the doors impatiently, obviously waiting for them to open.
After a minute of tense silence, Clarke sighs. “Alright, I think we’re screwed. There’s no way it’s opening now.”
“It has to. I can't afford to be stuck on this elevator. Not now.” The woman’s reply is sharp, her frustration obvious. Her eyes look like they could kill, or at the very least, open the elevator doors.
“Is there a call button? We should probably let someone know we’re stuck.” Clarke searches the wall panel for the button.
“Here.” The brunette directs Clarke’s attention to a call button.
She hits it and waits for something to happen. Eventually, the elevator is filled with the voice of a woman who sounds immensely bored. “Yeah?”
“Uh, hi,” Clarke starts, unsure of what to say, “We’re sort of trapped in this elevator. It stopped moving a few minutes ago and hasn’t started up again. What are we supposed to do?”
The bored voice reappears as the PA crackles. “Which elevator?”
Clarke pauses. Shit. She didn’t remember to look. She was too preoccupied with the time to notice which elevator she got on. “Uh-”
The other woman pipes up, “Four. Elevator four.”
“Which floor?”
Again, the other women responds. “The elevator says we’re on floor 9.”
“Names and info?”
“Lexa Woods. Apartment 14C” The other women shifts her eyes to Clarke, waiting for her to supply her name and information.
“Clarke. Clarke Griffin. Apartment 16A,” Clarke quickly says without looking away from the woman’s eyes.
“We’ll have someone out shortly.”
“Uh,” The woman, Lexa apparently, starts as she turns her head back to the speaker in the ceiling. “How quickly will they be here?”
“Somewhere between one and four hours. Hang tight.” The voices cuts off with another crackle of the PA system.
“Up to four hours? Just to get a mechanic out here?! That’s crazy!” Lexa yells up at the ceiling – at nothing.
The agitation is becoming more apparent on Lexa’s face. Clarke wants to ease the woman’s frustration, but doesn’t know how. She doesn’t even know this woman.
“Fuck!” Lexa starts to pace the small space of the elevator. “This can’t be happening. Not to me.”
“Hey,” Clarke tries to say encouragingly. “It’ll be okay. Surely somebody will be on their way to fix it soon.”
“You can’t know that!” Lexa says, her eyes flashing with anger and something else, smaller and hidden. Maybe fear.
“I can hope. And you can too.” Clarke replies softly, trying to keep the situation calm. “We can’t freak out yet. It’s only been five minutes.”
“Yes, but I’m supposed to be on my way to class.”
“Well, you might want to call someone and let them know that you’re going to need their notes from today. We likely aren’t going anywhere for a while.”
Lexa sighs as she checks her watch and then pulls out her phone. She punches in a number and holds the phone up to her ear. After a few seconds of silence, she pulls the phone away and looks down at it. “I should have guessed. No service.”
“Shit.” Clarke pulls out her phone as well. Lexa was right. No service. She’s not going to be able to tell Octavia she won’t be coming now. Hopefully she can just apologize later.
There’s a silence in the elevator. Lexa is rubbing at her temples.
Finally, Clarke decides to break the silence. “What do you want to do for the duration of our unwilling stay in this god forsaken elevator?”
“I want to get out of here.”
“Sorry,” Clarke smiles at Lexa. “That’s not one of the options right now.”
“Is there something you had in mind?”
Clarke settles unceremoniously onto the floor. It’s dirty, but she’s not going to stand while she waits for the mechanic to arrive. “We might as well get to know each other if we’re going to be stuck here for hours.” Clarke holds out her hand, stretching it up to Lexa, who remains standing. “I’m Clarke.”
Lexa tentatively grabs her hand. “Of apartment 16A. I’m aware.” A pause. “Lexa.”
Clarke smirks. “Of apartment 14C. I’m aware.”
Lexa cracks a small smile and looks away from Clarke eyes. Lexa says lightly, “Mockery is not the product of a strong mind, Clarke.”
“Well, I am sitting on the floor of an elevator that’s stuck ten floors up. I would say that my mind isn’t the strongest right now.”
Lexa’s lips quirk slightly as she looks around the cramped elevator with her arms crossed. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. That’s when Clarke notices that Lexa is wearing high heels.
Clarke quickly strips off her hoodie and spreads it out on the floor between her and Lexa. Lexa raises a single eyebrow at her actions.
Clarke gestures towards her hoodie, “So you can sit and not get your pants dirty.”
“How chivalrous.”
“I just figured that you wouldn’t want to be standing in those heels for ‘one to four hours.’”
Lexa sighs as she bends down to rest on the floor next to Clarke. “I suppose not.”
They sit in silence for a few minutes before Clarke feels the need to break it. With her head tilted back against the wall, she looks at Lexa. “Have you ever been stuck in an elevator before?”
Lexa doesn’t look at her. “No.”
“Well, I have.” Clarke sighs looking up at the ceiling, “Freshman year, I got stuck in the elevator at 1 am. I was trying to leave my friends’ room after we stuffed our faces with multiple pizzas in celebration of finals being over.” Looking back over at Lexa, Clarke asks, “Want to know the worst part?”
Lexa looks over and raises her eyebrows.
“He lived on the third floor.”
Lexa eyebrows furrow. “Why would you take the elevator down three floors? That seems unnecessary.”
“Hey, don’t judge me too harshly!” Clarke smiles slightly at the memory. “It was late. I was tired and stuffed with at least seven slices of pizza.”
“That seems excessive.”
“That’s not even my record.” Clarke’s head lazily rolls back toward Lexa as she grins. “Make it a challenge and give me some alcohol, and I can forget that my stomach has walls.”
“Is pizza really worth that kind of stomach ache?” Lexa asks with the roll of her eyes.
“Every single time.”
**
Lexa makes no moves to have a conversation with Clarke. She sits quietly on her side of the elevator and stares intensely at the doors, as if trying to open them with pure will.
Clarke, however, easily becomes bored. With no service and no wifi, she becomes increasingly unnerved by Lexa’s silence.
Clearing her throat, Clarke asks, “Lexa, what kind of music do you listen to? Please don’t say country music.”
Lexa looks over, face devoid of much emotion. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m bored, and it’s quiet.” Clarke shrugs. “I figured some music wouldn’t hurt.”
There’s a pause before Lexa answers. “I don’t listen to music very often. It’s very distracting.”
Clarke smiles. “Isn’t that what we need right now? A distraction?”
Lexa’s lips quirk upwards. Clarke finds that she likes drawing a smile out of her.
Softly, Lexa concedes. “Touché.” After a moment, she looks at Clarke. “I don’t typically listen to music with words though.”
Clarke looks up from where she has begun scrolling through the music on her phone. “No lyrics? None? That’s almost worse than country music. Almost.”
“They're distracting. And often sad.” Lexa looks away. “I have no need for either of these things.”
Even though Lexa is looking away and her voice is low, Clarke knows that there’s a sadness upon Lexa. One not brought on simply by the words in a song.
Trying to lighten the mood, Clarke scrolls through a few more songs in her playlist titled ‘@music, just fuck me up’ before settling on one of her favorites. “How about some Arctic Monkeys then?”
Lexa raises a brow. “Arctic Monkeys? That's an actual band name?”
Clarke rolls her eyes. “Yes. Don’t judge until you hear it.”
“I'll try not to.”
Clarke clicks on the song and hears the familiar start of ‘No. 1 Party Anthem.’ She closes her eyes and lets the initial sounds wash over her. She makes a quiet sound of approval before she hums quietly along.
Though she would never admit it, Lexa enjoys the song. She’s having trouble deciding whose low voice she likes better – the singer of the so called “Arctic Monkeys” or Clarke’s. (Subconsciously, she knows whose voice she likes better.)
When Clarke asks her opinion of the song, Lexa merely shrugs her shoulders. “I’ve heard worse.”
Clarke looks slightly affronted. “Are you kidding me? That song is fantastic. Words and all.”
Lexa merely raises an eyebrow, practically taunting Clarke.
And Clarke takes the bait. “Come on, Lexa! The start of that song is like sex!”
Lexa’s eyebrows climb higher. “Sex?” She questions with a tone of amusement.
Clarke smirks. “Yes, sex. An intimate act between two, or sometimes more, people. Feels great. Euphoric even—“
“I’m aware of how sex feels, Clarke.”
Now it’s Clarke’s turn to raise her eyebrows. Lexa doesn’t seem like the type to be close to anyone, let alone knowing someone enough to get in their pants, and she definitely doesn’t seem like a one night stand kind of girl.
Clarke clears her throat in the deafening silence. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to assume.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
After a moment of terse silence, Lexa decides to give Clarke a break. “Alright, the beginning of the song is pretty good.”
Clarke stifles a laugh behind her hand. “I know, right? You should listen to the rest of the album. It’s just as euphoric as that song.”
“Arctic Monkeys is still a stupid band name,” Lexa says, not wanting to concede to Clarke yet again.
Clarke shrugs with a smile. “I can’t fight you on that, but they do make some badass music.”
Rolling her eyes at her, Lexa responds with a touch of amusement, “Sure, Clarke.”
**
“It’s getting hot in here,” Lexa says, fanning her face.
“So take off all your clothes,” Clarke can’t help but to sing the lyrics back to Lexa.
At this, Lexa raises her eyebrows, and Clarke sighs.
“Come on, Lexa. The Nelly song everyone listened to in middle school.” At Lexa’s blank stare, she goes on. “’Hot in Herre?’”
Lexa shakes her head.
“Jesus, Lexa. You have got to expand your music palate.”
“Somehow, I feel like this song may not be the right match for me.”
Clarke looks Lexa up and down, taking in her attire and making Lexa feel very exposed. “Touché.”
After Clarke’s eyes finish roaming Lexa’s body, Lexa feels a little bold. She’s hot and wearing too many layers to be comfortable in the heat of the elevator. Shucking off her blazer feels fucking fantastic, so she moves to the cuffs of her button down and rolls the sleeves up to her elbows. Going one step further, she unbuttons the top two buttons of her shirt as well.
Clarke nearly dies.
Not that Lexa’s actions were overtly sexual or anything, but Clarke is a goddamn sucker when it comes to rolled up sleeves of button downs. She starts to feel hot as well, but not necessarily from the elevator’s lack of air conditioning.
Clarke shifts off of the elevator wall, catching Lexa’s attention. Lexa’s eyes go wide when she sees Clarke reach for the hem of her t-shirt.
“Don’t worry,” Clarke says with a smirk. “I’ve got something on underneath. I’m not going to strip naked in this elevator.” After a thought, she adds, “Not without some alcohol and money being involved.”
Without pause, Lexa says, “Unfortunately, I only have one of those things on me.”
Surprised at Lexa’s ability to flirt, Clarke keeps up the banter as she starts to untie her shoes. “Please tell me it’s alcohol. I would love nothing more than being plastered in this hot box of death.”
“Sorry.” Lexa gives Clarke a small smile. “I can’t fulfill that dream of yours.”
Maybe she can’t fulfill that dream, Clarke thinks as she looks into Lexa’s playful eyes and pulls her shirt over her head, but she might be able to fulfill some of her fantasies.
**
“Lexa, I’m bored again.”
Lexa shakes her head slightly. “I don't think I can help you there, Clarke.”
“Sure you can.” Clarke turns to face Lexa more fully. “Play a game with me.”
“A game?”
“Yeah.” Clarke pauses as she racks her brain for something she thinks Lexa will agree to. “How about a version of 20 questions?” At Lexa’s raised eyebrow, she starts to elaborate. “Like, we go back and forth and ask questions about the other. For example, I might ask you what your favorite color is and you would say…?”
“Green.” Lexa says this instinctively, but she thinks that if someone asked her the question again after just a few more hours in this elevator, she might say blue.
“And now you get to ask me any question you want.”
Lexa searches her brain, trying to find a question to ask Clarke. She finds that there are a lot of questions that she wants to ask, but she settles for something simple. “What’s your major?”
“Biology with a Pre-Med intent,” Clarke answers quickly. “What’s yours?”
“International affairs.”
“Why international affairs?” Clarke sounds truly curious, and even though Clarke has asked this question out of turn, Lexa’s heart flutters.
Lexa gets asking this question a lot, yet she still doesn’t quite know what to say. She doesn’t want to say something about world peace for fear of sounding like a pageant girl. She settles for a simple answer. “Because the world could use a little bit more peace.”
Clarke makes a small noise of agreement and indicates that it’s Lexa’s turn to ask a question.
Since the girls don’t really know each other, Lexa tries to think of questions that aren’t too prying. She doesn’t want to offend Clarke when they’re stuck in such a contained space together. “What’s your favorite time of day?”
“Hm,” Clarke thinks for just a moment before answering. “The morning. Right after the sun rises. When there’s still dew on the flowers and all the birds are still waking up.”
Lexa can understand the want for a calm and quiet world.
“Where is your favorite place to be?”
The question hurts Lexa more than Clarke could have ever expected. Many of Lexa’s favorite places are tinged with sadness now. Because Lexa’s favorite person in the whole world isn’t there to share them with her anymore. So instead of giving Clarke the long answer, she goes with, “I don't really have a favorite place. Not anymore.”
Clarke can tell that there’s more behind Lexa’s answer than she’s giving, but she lets it slide, knowing that sharing something intimate with someone who is practically a stranger probably isn’t appealing to most people. To bring the mood up, Clarke puts on a cheeky smile. “What? This elevator isn’t your favorite place? Come on, you can admit it. You don’t mind being on this elevator because I’m here to keep you entertained.”
Lexa graces Clarke with one of her small smiles as she looks away. She makes no move to deny the claims.
**
“Hey, Lexa.”
“Yes, Clarke?”
“Say hi to Octavia for me,” Clarke says, pointing her phone’s camera toward where Lexa sits, still perched on Clarke’s sweatshirt.
“Who is Octavia? And why am I greeting her?
Clarke turns her phone camera back to her face. She talks to her phone as she responds to Lexa. “Octavia is my best friend in the entire world. She is a goddess who walks among mortals and she deserves a better friend than me.” She glances at Lexa to finish explaining. “Octavia and her boyfriend are the ones who I was supposed to help paint today, but here I am. So, I am taking this lovely video for a lovely Octavia so she can’t say I’m lying. Because she won’t believe me when I tell her I didn’t come because I was stuck in an elevator all day. I have to have the receipts for her, you know?”
Lexa doesn’t really know, but she nods nevertheless. “Hello, Octavia. I can vouch for Clarke.” A sigh. “We are very stuck in this elevator.”
“How long have we been here, Lexa?”
Looking at her watch, Lexa replies with, “3 hours, 24 minutes, and still counting.”
“Sorry, Octavia. Looks like you’re going to have to keep painting without me. I’ll see you when we get out of this hell.” Clarke smiles and waves to the camera, though her eyes scream for help. Lexa knows that she and Clarke are on the same page. They both want to get the fuck out of this damn elevator.
**
“Holy shit!”
Lexa startles at Clarke’s exclamation and looks over at her to see why she tried to give Lexa a heart attack.
“Lexa, I have service. A single bar!” Clarke looks excited at her prospects for a second before her face gathers into a frown. “Shit.”
“What is it?”
“I got some messages from Octavia.” Clarke swallows deeply as her phone continues to vibrate with the incoming messages.
“How many?”
“32 so far.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah, safe to say that I’m fucked,” Clarke says as she starts to tap her phone’s screen, probably issuing out a few ‘sorry’ texts to her friend.
Lexa checks her own phone to see if she has service. She isn’t as lucky as Clarke, seeing as she still has zero bars.
“I just sent her the video. Hopefully she believes it.”
Clarke’s phone vibrates again. “She doesn’t.”
“How can you convince her?”
“I’m asking her.” A pause as her phone vibrates again. “Fuck. Okay.”
Clarke reaches around in her bag, finally pulling out a pencil and a large book. As she flips through it to find a blank page, Lexa can see that most of the pages are filled with beautifully done sketches. Lexa almost feels guilty because a sketchbook seems like very intimate thing to look at without permission, like looking through the pictures on someone’s phone without asking. Lexa looks away as Clarke rips out a page and starts to scribble on it in a loopy script.
Clarke’s phone buzzes again. She sighs as she reads the new message. “Goddamn you, Octavia.” Clarke swears quietly and writes one last thing before looking up at Lexa with desperate eyes. “Please don’t judge me for this.”
“I can't judge someone for trying to placate an angry best friend.”
“You might after you see this.” Clarke looks away for a second, then she starts with, “Look, she wants me to take a selfie with you, and I have to hold up this fucking sign.”
“Okay, what's wrong with that?”
Clarke doesn’t answer; she just hands sign over to Lexa wordlessly.
The sign reads: “I truly am stuck in this elevator and am actively fucking over my best friend. I am pleading for Octavia’s forgiveness, even though I am a lowly pleb who is beneath her.” Then in smaller writing below, it reads: “Also, the girl I’m stuck with is ridiculously hot. Like, damn. She’s fine. *insert many fire emojis*”
Lexa blushes bright red. She looks away from the sign and nods, understanding Clarke’s embarrassment now.
“Sorry about this.” Clarke sighs to the ceiling.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Clarke scoots in closer to Lexa and holds up the sign like a kicked puppy. Lexa raises an eyebrow at Clarke with a small smirk, wondering how someone can look so cute with a pouty face when Clarke snaps the picture.
“It’s actually a nice picture. Of you anyways,” Clarke says after she looks at the picture and sends it quickly to Octavia. She passes her phone to Lexa so she can see it.
It’s a very good picture, she soon sees. Somehow, Clarke has managed to make herself look completely adorable, with her pouty lips and sad eyes, as she holds the ludicrous sign. Looking at herself in the photo, she sees a smile on her lips as she looks over at pouting Clarke. She isn’t looking at the camera, but it doesn’t matter. In the picture she looks both embarrassed and flattered by what’s written on the sign.
“I can send it to you if you want.”
Lexa is pulled out of her thoughts by Clarke’s words. She raises her eyebrows at Clarke.
“You know,” Clarke starts, “That way you too can have proof that you spent the better part of a day trapped in an elevator with a ridiculously hot girl who deserves many fire emojis.”
“After how long we have been trapped, my mind is a little fried. I might need the picture to prove to myself that today actually did happen and that it was not all in my head.”
Clarke hands her phone over to Lexa so she can put her number in and Lexa does the same for Clarke after a moment of hesitation.
She is typing her name into Clarke’s phone when she makes a decision that she might regret later. When she’s done, she hands the phone back to Clarke and gets hers in return.
She hears Clarke laugh heartily as she takes in what Lexa has typed – her name surrounded by many fire emojis. She supposes that she can’t regret her actions after getting such a beautiful laugh out of the blonde woman.
Lexa can’t help but to let out a laugh of her own when she sees the information that Clarke has inputted.
“Clarke Griffin of apartment 16A”
Surrounded by fire emojis.
**
“Hour number five trapped in this fucking elevator,” Clarke says into her imaginary microphone. “Not the most pleasurable of experiences, I’ve got to tell you, folks. 2 out of 10. Do not recommend.”
Though Lexa doesn’t want to play into Clarke’s antics, her curiosity gets the better of her. With an eyebrow raised, she asks, “2 out of 10? You give this a somewhat positive rating? How?”
Clarke gives a sly grin, “The company isn’t half-bad.” Lexa’s heart stops at both the words and the confidence behind them.
Lexa looks away from Clarke with a small smile as she continues on, bringing her imaginary microphone back to her lips.
“Speaking of good company, folks, here’s my unlucky companion in this shithole, Lexa Woods of apartment 14C.” Looking in Lexa’s eyes, Clarke asks, “How has being stuck in this box been, Ms. Woods?”
Lexa stares back into Clarke’s eyes before answering, sinking into the blue depths. “Hot,” she settles on with a slight shrug.
“You heard it here first, my friends. This motherfucking box is hot--,” Clarke says, her hand starting to drift away from her mouth and her eyes falling from Lexa’s face as Lexa begins to undo more buttons on her shirt. She slides the shirt off her shoulders with a quick shrug, folding it up and straightening the tank top she was wearing underneath.
“It’s not as bad with you here.” Lexa says quietly. She doesn’t mean for it to escape her mind, but now that it’s out, she looks for Clarke’s reaction.
Clarke is unabashedly staring at the newly exposed parts of Lexa’s body, enjoying the toned muscles and beautifully done tattoos she finds there. Clarke is a fucking sucker for tattoos. It seems like Lexa has it all. She itches to draw those tattoos right now, but she’s worried that Lexa wouldn’t appreciate her staring at her body for an extended period of time.
Lexa looks up at Clarke and can’t help but to be excited at the look of attraction she sees in her eyes.
**
There is a knock on the elevator’s doors. Lexa, who has long since taken off her heels, rushes up to the doors. Clarke scrambles up behind her.
“Did somebody call for a mechanic?” An unfamiliar voice calls to them from the outside.
“Yes!” Clarke and Lexa exclaim together, both ready to get out their cramped cell.
“Awesome. Well, Raven Reyes at your service.”
Clarke smiles at the doors. “Raven Reyes, if you can get us out of this fucking elevator, I will kiss you.”
There’s a quiet chuckle from Raven as she tinkers with the doors. “Damn, someone is desperate.”
“You have no clue,” Lexa can’t help but chime in.
Raven grunts, struggling with a particularly tight bolt. “How long have you guys been in there?”
Clarke looks to Lexa, knowing that the other girl has been keeping track of the time. Looking at her watch, Lexa says, “Six hours, 46 minutes.”
“Have you guys fucked yet?”
Neither of them were expecting that. Clarke blushes, while Lexa’s mouth opens and shuts as she tries to formulate an answer to such a crass question. She seems to have forgotten the entirety of the English language in two seconds.
“What?” Finally, the question tumbles from Lexa’s lips.
“Hey, I wouldn’t blame you guys. Over six hours trapped in a contained area? Who wouldn’t do it?” A pause. “I mean, unless you guys are super straight or something.”
“I’m not.” Both Lexa and Clarke say this quietly, as if to themselves. As they both realize what the other has said, the tension is palpable in the air. Clarke stares into Lexa’s eyes, looking for a trace of a joke there. But Lexa isn’t joking. And neither is Clarke.
“Then why the hell are you two just standing around?” Raven chooses now to interject. “I can leave for a minute if you guys need a quickie.”
“No!” They both yell at the doors.
Softer, Clarke begs, “Please stay. Get these doors open for us, Raven.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As Raven gets back to work, the two women reclaim their seats on the floor. After a few more minutes of Raven's tinkering, the doors spring open.
This time, Clarke is the first one up. She’s out of the elevator before Lexa even stands. She sees Clarke lying face down on the floor of the elevator lobby, as if she was trying to hug it.
“Fuck yes.” Clarke sighs into the carpet. “An open space has never felt this delicious.”
Raven smiles at Clarke as she packs up her tools. With a joking glint in her eyes, she says, “Are you the one who promised me a kiss?”
Clarke looks up at her. “Oh, yeah, right. Sorry.” She pops up off the floor and casually walks up to Raven, grabbing her by the cheeks and looking dead into her eyes. “Thank you very much, Raven Reyes.” Then she pecks a quick kiss to Raven’s cheek and smiles widely. Raven looks a little surprised that Clarke actually fulfilled her vow, but hides it quickly under a confident face.
Watching Clarke kiss the mechanic makes Lexa irrationally upset. Lexa wanted to believe that Clarke had been flirting with her for the past six or so hours. But maybe she wasn’t. Maybe Clarke was into the knight in shining tool belt type instead of the fucked up, closed off type. Lexa couldn’t blame her.
Clarke looks at Raven. “How do drinks sound right now? I definitely owe you one.” Quietly, she adds, “And Octavia and Lincoln.”
Raven smiles. “This was my last job of the day. I’m down.”
Clarke turns to Lexa, “How about you, Lexa?”
Lexa is too busy staring daggers at the ground in the general direction of Raven’s feet that she misses the hopeful look in Clarke’s eye and smile on her face. In this moment, Lexa wishes that she could be as confident as Raven, cashing in kisses from Clarke, but she knows that she doesn’t compare to the tanned brunette who’s obviously good with her hands and has a gorgeous smile.
Which is why she responds with, “Sorry, I can’t. I have to go make some phone calls regarding where I’ve been this afternoon.”
Since she still isn’t looking at Clarke, she misses the disappointment that is clearly etched all over her face.
Lexa walks away without looking back.
Clarke almost wishes that they were still stuck in the elevator together.