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hedagi · 4 months

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Rock & Role Seven

It's hot in Arizona.

Get caught up with Part Six, or Start From The Beginning if you want.

13984 words:

Lexa woke up first. She fell asleep with the bedroom curtains open and the sun came in strong and early.

She played for over an hour the night before while Clarke slept.

Once she’d had enough and needed to rest, she found a blanket in the bedroom and draped it with care over Clarke’s sleeping body. Although everything in her told her not to, Lexa couldn’t stop herself from pressing a gentle goodnight kiss to Clarke’s forehead.

The resulting smile on Clarke’s lips in her sleep made Lexa scurry to bed by herself.

She stayed up looking at the stars through the panoramic window wishing everything could be different. Wishing there could be nothing else attached when they got home and they could have this and be this and have each other and be themselves.

The bright sun jarring her awake reminded Lexa that there was work to do. That they had a job to do. That when she saw Clarke sleeping on the couch, she needed to see her as a coworker and a song writing partner and a friend, and not as everything she didn’t know she wanted.

Lexa hurried through the studio in her pajamas and avoided Clarke on the couch and avoided the temptation to wake her up with Wanger and Mendelssohn and Chopin and declarations of love through the keys that she couldn’t say with words. She quietly brewed a pot of coffee and brought a cup outside to get some fresh air before the heat of the day made it difficult.

She sat down on the front step and lifted her face up to greet the morning sun, closed her eyes, and heaved a deep breath in and let it out slowly through her lips.

Her phone vibrated on the stone steps and it sounded extra loud in the peaceful moment.

“Good morning,” Lexa calmly greeted Anya.

“Hey, hi, how are you? Are you okay? Is everything good? I haven’t heard from you,” Anya rattled off quickly. Lexa could hear the sounds of New York traffic in the background and it made her appreciate the dead and silent landscape laid out before her that minded its own business and expected nothing from her.

“I’m good,” Lexa chuckled openly.

“Are you lying?” Anya pressed.

“Can’t you tell when I’m lying by now?” Lexa tsked.

“Not always lately,” Anya’s shrug was audible through the line. “Real talk, though. How was day one?”

“Honestly?” Lexa paused to sip from her coffee. It was still too hot and she winced. “It was great.”

“Incredible,” Anya exhaled a tense and anxious breath she’d been holding back.

“Dude, these studios are awesome. There’s a freaking white yamaha grand in here that I’m absolutely in love with,” Lexa replied.

“Is that all you’re absolutely in love with out there?” Anya warned.

“Come on, Anya,” Lexa scowled.

“I’m not messing with you. I’m actually asking. Last I saw you, you were self declared falling apart over this topic. Are you alone? Can you talk about it?” Anya asked genuinely.

“Kind of,” Lexa glanced over her shoulder for any movement inside. “Everything is okay on that front. We made an agreement to just forget everything while we’re here and focus on the music, and it’s working. We made some serious progress yesterday and once she wakes up, we’re going to get back to work.”

“Glad to hear it,” Anya said with a warm smile that Lexa could feel. “For real. I’ve been really worried about you.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Lexa assured her.

“Oh, I’m gonna,” Anya came right back. “You’re my favorite. I have to.”

“Thanks,” Lexa huffed out a short laugh. “What are you doing up? It’s early.”

“Raven’s got me doing studio drums for some new R&B chick this week while you two are gone,” Anya said. The city sounds vanished and were replaced with the familiar Polis lobby ambient noise.

“You’re picking up an awful lot of studio work lately,” Lexa had more of an accusatory tone than she intended.

“Yeah, well,” Anya paused in an effort to find kinder words. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with my job, so?”

“I’m taking care of your job. You better just be practicing for when we go back into the studio this fall,” Lexa snapped.

“I can do both,” Anya confirmed. “I’m not mad. I told you. I’m not mad at all. I just need to look out for me, and Raven asked me for a favor, so I’m doing it.”

“Was she dressed when she asked you for this favor?” Lexa smirked.

“She was not,” Anya smirked back.

“Good for you,” Lexa laughed.

“Good luck out there, buddy. Shoot me a text now and then so I don’t have to make assumptions by what the overlords are posting on your instagrams. Let me know what’s really up, yeah? I saw ya girl looking a little too foxy in our t-shirt and your jacket yesterday, so I’m sending you good vibes, good luck, and much restraint,” Anya lowered her voice, but meant every word.

“Holy shit, right? I hate it,” Lexa scowled.

“Do you, though?” Anya joked and it felt right. It felt like nostalgia and security and the real world.

“Not at all, and yes, completely,” Lexa confessed through a dreamy sigh.

“Woof. Listen, I gotta go. I just got here. Godspeed on the songwriting today. Tell Clarke I said what’s up,” Anya said in her calm and casual way that always got through to Lexa.

“Thanks. Will do,” Lexa laughed.

“Love you, Lex. Text me later,” Anya said before she was cut off by the elevator.

After setting her phone aside, Lexa let her eyes fall closed as she heaved a big sigh and let the sun’s heat press a soothing, dulling hand down on her. She mindfully inhaled the calm and the quiet before getting to her feet and heading back inside.

“Good morning!” Clarke sang in a raspy voice from the coffee pot as Lexa walked into the kitchen. Clarke was still dressed from yesterday with smudged eye makeup and messy hair and sleepy morning eyes and every ounce of her looked delightful moving around the luxury kitchen in their private vacation home.

It made Lexa want to abandon all of the reservations she had just carefully put back in place.

“Morning,” Lexa replied with a cautious smile.

“Thanks for getting coffee going,” Clarke gestured at the pot with her mug. “Have you been up long?”

“Not long,” Lexa held her cup out for Clarke to refill it. “I just got off the phone with Anya. She specifically told me to tell you she says hello.”

“Isn’t she sweet,” Clarke chuckled. “Was she at work? Probably just playing it up for us.”

“It’s not for the bit. She genuinely likes you. She says so all the time,” Lexa clarified innocently. “Everytime I talk about you, she says something.”

“Talking about me a lot, are you?” Clarke joked with a sassy look over her shoulder as she put the milk back in the fridge.

“You’re pretty much the focal point of my life these days,” Lexa shrugged bashfully. Clarke stiffened up and tried to hide the barrage of feelings in response. “Which isn’t such a bad thing. I love pleasant surprises,” Lexa offered kindly and hoped she wasn’t teetering into dangerous waters that would expose her true feelings.

“I’ve been consistently pleasantly surprised by how much I’ve enjoyed this bizarre situation since we got a proper hold of it. Almost as surprised as I am by how few of the rumors about you weren’t true!” Clarke returned the warmth and Lexa visibly relaxed.

“Are you really that surprised?” Lexa raised an impressed brow. “I was pretty upfront about how untrue all of the press about me has been.”

“I know, but it’s different to break it up and hear it line by line,” Clarke laughed. “Do you just not date altogether? Or are you really, really good at hiding it when you do?”

“I don’t date much,” Lexa brushed it off casually. “When I do, I keep it quiet until we both feel like it will last, so I guess the way they let our story out is on brand. Are you hungry? I was going to make some breakfast.”

“I’d love some breakfast. I’m hungover from the fact that you’re all rumors!” Clarke laughed and Lexa let out a laugh with her. “So I’ve gotta know, reverse real or rumor, when was the last time you were actually in a relationship?”

“My ex, the dancer I told you about?” Lexa began as she shuffled through the fridge for breakfast ingredients. “We were together for almost six years. There were rumors back then about me and other famous people, but not as many because it was common knowledge that she and I were together. After we broke up, they really started ramping up on all of the gossip. It was all more believable because I was single.”

“When were you two together?” Clarke got out of Lexa’s way and rested a hip against the counter as she sipped her coffee.

“We split around when we were recording our second album. It’s got a few breakup songs on it that were very popular. Probably part of why they’re gonna have us part ways before I make another album,” Lexa paused and processed the connection for the first time.

“What happened between you two?” Clarke asked evenly. She didn’t want to sound too eager, but on the inside she was dying to know.

“We just,” Lexa trailed off and considered the different ways to say it. “We just grew up, maybe? We needed and wanted different things from ourselves, each other, and life in general. It was mutual and amicable.”

“You just fizzled out and got different and that’s where your big songs came from?” Clarke wrinkled her nose.

“We loved each other very much,” Lexa replied with weight. “We got to a point where nothing was really wrong, but nothing was right at all either. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t sad or crushing or difficult. Nothing to blame or be mad at or hate or change. It just kind of ended because it was done.”

“I guess that does sound pretty sad, actually,” Clarke mulled it over and twisted the end of her culrs as she thought about the label preparing for Lexa to walk right out of her life in six weeks over nothing.

“We still talk every so often. We’re still friendly. She’s married. Her wife works on Wall Street. They live in Tribeca and have a kid. She seems happy,” Lexa carried on indifferently.

“How often do you see each other?” Clarke asked with the cadence of an interested friend and not a prospective lover despite not being totally sure which one she was.

“I don’t remember the last time we actually spent any time together, but she drops a note any time I’m in the news. I call her on her birthday. She sends me a Christmas card every year,” Lexa said from inside one of the cabinets as she shuffled around pots and pans.

“Any hope for reconciliation?” Clarke asked cautiously.

“Clarke, she’s married,” Lexa scoffed as she stood upright with a frying pan in hand. “And it’s a no on my end, too. I love her as an individual, but anything romantic between us is long gone. She probably knows me better than a lot of people did or will, but at this point, we’re just two people who shared something big and care about each other in the way friends who shared something important do.”

“That sounds kind of nice,” Clarke mused and found herself wondering if Lexa would be in her life in any way years later after they shared this huge thing together.

“I guess,” Lexa shrugged again. “That was my last real relationship. I’ve been on a series of dates a handful of times, but I haven’t really connected with anyone in a big way since. Nothing seems to click or stick. I haven’t found anything real with anyone else. It’s all been very shallow.”

“So as far as the media is concerned, I’m your first serious girlfriend since?” Clarke chuckled.

“The story goes that you are the lucky one that finally caught me again,” Lexa sighed sarcastically. “I’ve been single since she and I split, and the rumors have all been sincerely that. I very rarely get physical with anyone unless we have a real, deep, honest connection.”

“You never fuck just to fuck?” Clarke raised an unimpressed brow.

“No,” Lexa replied as she cracked eggs into the pan. Their sizzling sounded extra loud and dramatic in the silence between the beats of truth about Lexa’s actual sex life instead of the plot points of their fake one. “The bond is a big turn on for me. I need it. You’ve seen how deep my fake image goes. It’s pretty seldom I’m afforded the opportunity to actually be myself, let alone share it with someone else. It makes actually connecting with someone almost impossible.”

“Preach,” Clarke shot a knowing look across her mug. Lexa huffed an amused breath through her nose as she sliced fruit and scooped it into a bowl. “Well, wait,” Clarke furrowed her brow.

Lexa glanced up with curious eyes.

“If all of that’s true, when the hell was the last time you had sex?” Clarke asked flatly.

“It’s been a minute,” Lexa muttered.

“Yikes,” Clarke sipped her coffee with wide eyes.

“I know your image is way off base for who you actually are, but mine?” Lexa paused as she flipped the eggs on the stove. “Mine is equally as absurd.”

“It really is,” Clarke couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe that’s why this thing with us has been so successful. We both get to rebrand honestly through each other. It’s diabolical, but it’s pretty brilliant.”

“It has been nice to see my real face on the internet instead of my rock and roll costume,” Lexa grinned. “I can never take myself seriously with all that makeup on. I feel like I look ridiculous.”

“Well then, smile! Let me add this domestic sweetness of you making me breakfast in your jammies to the content pile,” Clarke set her coffee down and took up her phone to capture a bunch of images of Lexa laughing at the stove in her soft pajama shorts and a well-worn Foo Fighters concert t shirt with tour dates on the back from when Lexa was in college.

“I feel like you get most of the better pictures of me lately,” Lexa glanced at Clarke’s screen with her as she thumbed through them.

“You’re very photogenic,” Clarke swiped into the photos she took the night before of Lexa singing at the piano, and a few selfies they took laughing hysterically over dinner that they ate sitting on the floor at the coffee table going over lyrics. “And you’re usually having fun with me and smiling for real.”

Clarke’s phone lit up with ‘Big Bad Lawyer Man’ on the call screen.

“Shoot,” Clarke hissed.

“Is that how you have your lawyer saved in your phone?” Lexa giggled.

“One of them. He’s been a friend of the family for a long time and he insisted years ago and I never changed it,” Clarke rolled her eyes and picked up. “Hey, what’s up?”

Lexa kept busy with breakfast. Clarke didn’t leave her side and didn’t seem to need any privacy. The comfort that developed between them in causal closeness and generally existing in the other’s company was extra present as they shared a living space around the clock. Actually coexisting together felt far better than trying to make it look like they did.

“Okay, great, yeah, I saw that email. Can I e-sign those or do you need real signatures?” Clarke asked evenly and waited for a response. “Cool, I’ll take care of that when we hang up. We can pull from the usual account to take care of it.”

Clarke chewed her lip and listened carefully while he spoke on the other end. Lexa got them plates and forks and brought everything over to the table while Clarke nodded and gave back concise yeses and nos.

“Thanks so much, that all sounds good. Or as good as it can, anyway,” Clarke carried on with a routine sigh. “I’m working so I’ve gotta get going, but I’ll be back in New York on Friday. I have something I need to bring by your office for you and the crew to take a look at for me for work,” Clarke said with a little more purpose as she watched Lexa gently move the vase of flowers from their greeting display to the center of the table for them to enjoy as they ate.

She couldn’t contain the involuntary grin that Lexa’s pure and true sweetness always brought out of her and let out a low, warmhearted sigh as she watched Lexa cross the kitchen to the stove with a little dance in her step.

Clarke’s breath hitched as she caught herself thinking that Lexa had great legs. The corresponding urge ro run her hands up the length of them as they were wrapped around her made Clarke’s guts change places.

“Great, thanks. I’ll see you then,” Clarke got out through her confused smile and hung up. “Sorry about that,” she tacked on quietly.

“No need for apologies. Everything okay?” Lexa asked openly.

“Oh yeah,” Clarke dismissed with a wave of her hand. She hoped that any flustered feelings about Lexa’s figure could easily be brushed away with the stress of dealing with her difficult daily life. “I have power of attorney over my parents. He helps me manage all of their care and bills and needs. One of the entertainment lawyers at his firm does my work stuff, but he has a hand in it sometimes, too. We’ve known each other forever and he was close with my folks before their accident, so it’s nice to have someone in it for them and not just for the money.”

“I’m so glad you have that,” Lexa exhaled with relief.

“I am very lucky in the circle of professional support I have,” Clarke replied. “It’s small, but it’s mighty. Let’s enjoy this spread and then get to work!”

Clarke didn’t ask any more questions about Lexa’s love life and Lexa didn’t ask any more questions about Clarke’s parents. Both topics brought too much reality into their escape, and they had a lot of work left to do.

They showered and got ready with instructions to make it look like they didn’t put much effort into getting ready. Applying their fake personas had always been a private and solitary act. They both had to hide it from everyone. Sharing it with one another added an additional layer of specific intimacy to their relationship that only the exact bizarre scenario they were in provided. Much like most elements of their confusing, growing relationship, it was comforting and made them feel vulnerable at the same time.

While they were alone in Arizona and it came with certain freedoms, they were still sent wardrobes for each day complete with directions for their hair and make up and jewelry and attitudes. They both had a kit for each day with their clothes, their cosmetics, and instructions on exactly how to use it all.

They were used to it. They’d been dealing with forced looks on the road for a decade, but it was always something that was handled very privately.

Lexa looked down at their style cards for the day side by side on the bathroom counter, then brought her eyes up to the mirror to see their reflections staring back at her. Clarke’s wet hair was spun up in a towel. Her Wednesday wardrobe brought her back to her pop folk roots in another pair of obnoxiously short cutoffs and a loose, casual baby blue blouse that made the color of her eyes impossible to ignore.

Sharing the ritual of putting on their personas was something both of them never expected to share with someone else, but found it easy to share with each other. Lexa played music on her phone while they wordlessly and routinely went through the process side by side. Clarke studied her style card while she brushed her teeth and lazily scrolled on her phone through the day’s assignments.

Lexa couldn’t stop staring at her in the mirror.

Having breakfast together and laughing so hard and making music in the house all had delightful bits of domestic bliss that made Lexa envision a future she knew she couldn’t have, but getting ready for work in the bathroom together and sharing a space and activity that they never shared with anyone else that was a huge part of their lives with total comfort and ease socked Lexa in the chest when she really considered the weight of it.

This was the actual domestic bliss they never knew they could have and definitely couldn’t photograph.

Clarke looked up at her reflection with her electric toothbrush buzzing in her mouth and caught Lexa staring. She managed to smirk around her Sonicare and sent Lexa a sarcastically flirty wink through her reflection. Flustered, Lexa immediately brought her eyes back down to her style card. Clarke wordlessly and nonchalantly plucked it out of Lexa’s hands.

Her toothbrush stopped and Clarke spit unceremoniously in the sink. The towel fell off her head as she leaned forward. She tossed it aside and examined Lexa’s card closer.

“That eye makeup they keep putting on you is way too heavy and it makes you look like you’re trying too hard. It makes you look old,” Clarke said succinctly and shook out her wet curls. She handed the card back to Lexa. “You should just style yourself today.”

“And how should I style myself instead of this?” Lexa nervously held up her daily look instructions.

“Like you’re a talented, smart, sexy thirty-five year old that knows she’s talented, smart, and sexy as she ages, and not like a thirty-five year old who’s trying to look like she’s twenty-three?” Clarke shrugged. “However you’d actually do your eye makeup if you were a rockstar. When we go to big money events they get you right. Your look was on point at that white party.”

“Thank you,” Lexa stiffened and left the fact that Clarke kissed her and meant it at that party alone. Clarke calling her talented, smart, and sexy with confidence and honesty caused new sweat to break out all over Lexa’s body when layered on top of the notion.

“I say throw that thing out,” Clarke pointed at Lexa’s card. “I’m not drying and straightening my hair like they want me to. It’s a thousand degrees here. What are they gonna do? Fly out and re-do it for us? We’re in the middle of nowhere! I’ll put a little lipstick on, but enough’s enough. This is more realistic anyway. If you were really my woman and you expected a full blowout for us to sit around the house and work, you’d be sorely disappointed, Babe. I wouldn’t even put clothes on, nevermind all this BS,” she added over her shoulder as she stalked out of the bathroom while tying up her wet hair.

Lexa stayed stock stiff as she heard Clarke strumming her acoustic in the other room making up a song in the full range of her voice about how dumb it would be to blow dry her hair in the heat or put on pants.

“I’m just gonna be sweating my fuckin’ tits off anywaaaaay!” Clarke sang out and brought her morning warmups to a close. Lexa’s confused, affectionate panic dissolved into a silly smile as she listened to Clarke’s vibrato.

“When she’s right, she’s right,” Lexa sighed at her reflection and dropped her style guide in the trash can.

After warming up together with a few freestyle blues progressions and nonsense lyrics about each other for the camera, they picked up where they left off the day before. With new lyrics in place and some rough ideas around how to make their musical plans match up, they started piecing the song together digitally. True to their first songwriting session, they were able to set aside everything and immerse themselves in the process.

Clarke proved to be savvy with the audio programs and took the lead on building the new song. She paced back and forth and kept time while Lexa tracked piano parts. Lexa deferred to her and didn’t flinch when Clarke told Lexa that she could do better.

Lexa manned the mouse and the keyboard while Clarke tracked lead vocals and harmonized with herself. Anytime Lexa had to tell Clarke her take wasn’t good enough or they needed to go again, Clarke simply listened, went again and did it right.

The trust they openly shared let them work with all walls down and the mutual goal of making the best song they could. They treated each other with the respect of equals and let the other lead when necessary and transferred power without hesitation.

It felt like dancing.

The excitement and encouragement as the other nailed her takes or had the perfect new idea was mutual and swelled slowly over the course of the day.

At one point, Clarke paused and forgot the words she was supposed to sing when she glanced up from the mic to catch Lexa swaying to the music and mouthing the backup vocals with a glass of wine in one hand and a half eaten sandwich in the other. Her dance moves and expressive little faces of approval at the new song coming together caught Clarke’s attention in an all new way.

The kindness Lexa showed her made Clarke the best kind of unsettled. It was new and it was exciting and even though most of history told her it shouldn’t, it felt so good. It felt reassuring and safe and calm to be treated like she was Lexa’s for real. Rather than chalk Lexa’s sweet and affectionate behavior up to the bit and the job, Clarke let herself enjoy how nice it felt.

And gave it back.

Every one of Lexa’s smiles looked wider. Her eyes were brighter. Her jokes were funny, her manners were sweet, she was too smart and too sexy and just flat out adorable in every way and Clarke struggled with what to do with all of the huge feelings bursting out all over whether she wanted to let them or not.

“You okay?” Lexa tapped the spacebar with the base of her wineglass to pause the music and the recording when she caught Clarke spaced out with a dopey distant smile.

“Oh,” Clarke shook her head and turned away with red cheeks and a flustered smile. “Yeah, sorry.”

“What’s up?” Lexa asked with genuine concern in her delectable, innocent, curious brow raise.

Lexa misplaced her pencil all day, got aggravated, creatively strung curses together when she couldn’t find it, then got out a fresh one and the cycle began anew thirty minutes later. In that exact moment that Lexa looked at her with the most earnest eyes flooded with care and consideration for her, Clarke noticed that there were five pencils stuck in Lexa’s messy bun.

Clarke’s heart felt like it would never fit inside her chest again and it made it hard to breathe. Her stomach bottomed out and her throat squeezed shut to prevent her heart from barreling up and out and across the room to splatter all over Lexa’s dreamy lips.

“Nothing,” Clarke broke into a huge, loving grin.

“We can take a break if you need one,” Lexa replied. “Are you good?”

“So good,” Clarke responded warmly with a small sigh. “Do you mind taking it back for me?”

“You got it, Love,” Lexa nodded and zeroed in on the screen.

Clarke knew the pet name was a nickname and part of the act and just a habit now, but the butterflies it brought to her stomach every time Lexa called her Love could only be problematic paired with the new full body experience of her real feelings for Lexa growing so strong and loud and obvious that they couldn’t be ignored anymore.

She took a big swig of her drink, pinched her eyes shut, and forced herself to focus.

Hours later, side by side, they reviewed their work.

“It’s so fucking close,” Clarke murmured later in the evening. She chewed her lip and kept her eyes locked on the screen. “I can’t stand it that there are these obvious spots where lyrics go and I can’t figure out what the hell they are,” she muttered and pointed to the gaps in the vocal tracks.

“Maybe we should play it back start to finish and just listen,” Lexa suggested after a hard swallow. She could see straight down Clarke’s loose blouse and couldn’t tear her eyes away. Clarke stood at the computer with her hands flat on the desktop and her eyes glued to the screen. A passing thought as to whether or not Ali was trying to torture her with Clarke’s wardrobe floated through Lexa’s subconscious.

“Alright,” Clarke huffed a huge sigh and nodded in agreement. “You’re right!” She threw her hands up and backed away from the computer. Lexa squeaked out a tiny, shaky breath of relief.

“Let’s have a quick break,” Lexa nodded towards the kitchen. “Refill our wine, get out of this room for just a second.”

“I just want to be done with it,” Clarke groaned and rubbed her hands over her eyes.

“C’mon. Get your glass. Let’s go,” Lexa encouraged and slung her arm around Clarke to guide her out of the studio. “You need a break from listening to your own voice.”

“Fine,” Clarke scowled.

“Me and Anya do this when we’re working on our songs and we get stuck and I can’t hear myself anymore,” Lexa held her phone up. “We’re going in another room and I’m setting a five minute timer. We’re not allowed to talk about music until it goes off.”

“Five minutes? Does that work?” Clarke wrinkled her nose.

“Almost always,” Lexa clicked her tongue and gave Clarke a knowing smirk. “It’s just enough time to get recentered without losing too much flow. Take your mind off it, but not out of it.”

“I guess it can’t hurt to try?” Clarke shrugged.

“You can’t talk about music starting now!” Lexa dramatically hit start on the timer.

“What are we supposed to talk about?” Clarke asked apprehensively.

“Whatever you want,” Lexa shrugged. “Anything. Nothing.”

“Ask me something,” Clarke said quickly. She looked nervous. They were both sweaty and worn out from the long day in the studio, but Clarke’s eyes met Lexa with apprehensive trust.

“When’s your birthday?” Lexa blurted out to soothe the mood.

“February Twelfth,” Clarke said just as awkwardly.

“Ooo, Aquarius, huh? I should’ve guessed,” Lexa chuckled as she poured them two full glasses of wine.

“Ulgh, are you one of those?” Clarke eyed her before taking a big swig.

“What do you mean, one of those? One of those what?” Lexa laughed her real laugh and they both immediately loosened up.

“One of those people who thinks the planets give them an excuse to act however they want?” Whiffs of the Clarke that used to start a fight every time she and Lexa were together resurfaced in the best way through a sarcastic dirty look.

“I just think it’s fun,” Lexa brushed her off.

“I’m surprised we haven’t heard from the fans about whether or not our signs are compatible,” Clarke rolled her eyes. “Most of mine love that stuff.”

“They probably have, because we very much are, but I haven’t been looking at anything they’re saying. It’s too confusing,” Lexa winced.

“I don’t really like it either. Too many of them love us together so much. We’ve done a little too good of a job being in love that I feel bad knowing it’s not real. I mean, we lie to them all the time, because we’re not even kind of who they think we are, but this isn’t the same. I don’t like letting them down,” Clarke joined Lexa’s wince with a wrinkled nose and uneasy eyes.

“I don’t like that part of it either,” Lexa replied. “I was okay with it at first, but it feels different now. It’s so much harder now for a slew of reasons.”

“It really is,” Clarke replied tensely, wondering if this would be the moment one of the finally admitted it.

“Son of a bitch, are you gonna let me combine your birthday and anniversary and Valentine’s presents every year? That’s all the same weekend,” Lexa joked to break the tension with the slyest little wine buzzed smile.

“Obviously I’ll need three big presents for the three different occasions,” Clarke tsked and followed Lexa’s lead back into the safety of mocking their fake life. “And according to my personality files, I like high end shit.”

“Of course you do,” Lexa chuckled.

“When’s your birthday?” Clarke asked carefully, following Lexa’s lead.

“December eighth,” Lexa smiled back at her.

“What’s that, Sagittarius?” Clarke puzzled and glanced away.

“You know it,” Lexa said with confidence.

“I told you I’ve never had any friends. I don’t know my zodiac well. I’ve never had anyone get close enough to me to think that hard about them in my life,” Clarke said flatly.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that,” Lexa dramatically set her wine on the counter and folded her arms over her chest. She looked Clarke up and down with a scrutinous smirk.

“What do you mean?” Clarke’s voice fluttered nervously.

“Like, I get why not. You’ve explained the circumstances to me, and I used to be on the other side of your wrath regularly, but I can’t reconcile any of that with knowing you the way I do now. You’re fun and you’re smart and you’re interesting. You’re too lovely,” Lexa trailed off and cocked her head as she examined Clarke a little too closely for comfort.

“I don’t think anyone has ever called me lovely in my life,” Clarke shrank in on herself, feeling exposed under Lexa’s gaze and shower of compliments.

“You’re so lovely when you stop with all that bitchy stuff. It’s a fucking shame more people don’t know,” Lexa shrugged and chugged from her glass.

“Good thing I figured out how to cool all that bitchy stuff since you have to spend so much time with me,” Clarke quipped into her wine.

“You really did figure it out. I’d rather spend my time with you than not with you lately,” Lexa replied with warmth in her eyes.

The timer sang out on Lexa’s phone before Clarke could respond.

“Back to work,” Lexa said concisely with a smug grin.

“Back to work,” Clarke agreed, but she couldn’t stop smiling and hoped Lexa didn’t notice she was blushing, and had been nervously, aggressively, flirtatiously blushing all day.

“Let’s go play this thing from the beginning,” Lexa confidently led the way back to the studio.

They played the latest version of the track and both listened intently for all of the new updates and changes and new lyrics. They were sweaty and tired and full of wine and ready to call it a day on the track and let it rest until the morning. They stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the computer so they could see the song slip past on the screen. Lexa chewed a pencil and watched her sheet music as the tune filled the room. Clarke furrowed her brow and mouthed the lyrics along to her own voice coming through the speakers.

“Blah blah-dee blah blah!” Clarke sang out in the empty vocal section of the chorus they just couldn’t fill. Lexa burst out laughing.

“Poetry, Clarke. Clear a spot on your shelf for that Grammy,” Lexa chuckled.

“I’m not wrong, though!” Clarke threw her hands up. “That’s what goes there! We need a perfect blah blah-dee blah blah that sums up the whole big ass, friggin’ huge feeling of this song! And it goes right there! And it sounds like that! And we have nothing else right there, and that section is really, really important, and I can’t figure out what the fuck it is!”

“I think we need to call it a night,” Lexa patted Clarke on the shoulder. “We did some great work today, and now we need to decompress and stop thinking about it and come back fresh in the morning.”

“I know you’re right, but I just want it done,” Clarke said sourly with her arms folded over her chest.

“I think maybe you should vent your frustrations,” Lexa shot Clarke a knowing look as she sat down at the piano. “Freestyle while I play,” Lexa nodded at the mic.

“I’m not very good at that,” Clarke scowled.

“Yes you are. I heard you singing about your sweaty tits just this morning,” Lexa smirked. Clarke scoffed and kept her arms crossed tightly over the perspiring tits in question. “What do you want? Blues? Jazz? Basic pop lines?” Lexa carried on and played a bunch of chords.

“Blues, I guess,” Clarke succumbed and sauntered up to the mic.

“I’m going to start playing. You jump in whenever you want. Don’t hurry. I’ll wait for you,” Lexa smiled warmly as she worked through a basic blues progression.

Clarke closed her eyes and shook her limbs out. She stretched her neck and took a few deep breaths before bouncing foot to foot as she let the music swarm around her. She started low and slow with cautious melodies and words about not knowing what to say. Lexa guided her with swelling chords, quick fills and arpeggios, then slowly picked the tempo up as Clarke’s lyrics got more creative and she took her vocals off their leash.

Lexa let out involuntary howls of encouragement while Clarke wailed away, pouring out her heart about how hard everything was, how frustrated she was, how difficult it was to be stuck inside of this song that wasn’t right or real.

They went on for half an hour, pushing each other and chasing each other around the music. Eventually, instinctively, Clarke followed Lexa’s lead to bring the song to a close with an absolutely showstopping series of notes that she held longer than Lexa played.

Clarke’s chest heaved as she gripped the mic and tried to catch her breath in the vibrating silence that always filled the room when they were done with a great song.

“Feel better?” Lexa managed to make a smug smirk inviting and adorable.

“Y’know? I really do,” Clarke nodded thoughtfully.

“Me too,” Lexa’s smirk softened to the sweet smile Clarke had come to depend on. “I think we should get some rest so we can solve the rest of the puzzle tomorrow.”

“Definitely. I’m beat,” Clarke yawned.

“I’ll take the couch tonight,” Lexa stretched her back as she caught Clarke’s yawn.

“That thing is very aesthetically pleasing, but it is wildly uncomfortable and I don’t recommend it,” Clarke said frankly as she paused in the doorway to the bedroom. “We have a lot of work to do tomorrow and you need some decent rest. Just come sleep in bed with me,” Clarke nodded her head into the bedroom as she simultaneously pulled her hair tie out and shook her curls loose.

Lexa looked back and forth between the modern, angular, hard couch and Clarke in the doorframe with sweaty hair framing her glowing, rosy cheeks from all the wine and weed and healing blues.

“Are you sure? Cause I can just,” Lexa pointed awkwardly at the couch.

“Of course I’m sure,” Clarke shrugged. “It’s just sleep. We’ve done it together before with success,” Clarke chuckled to hide her nerves.

They found themselves back in front of the bathroom mirror peeling off the layers of their personas the same way they started the day. They washed their faces, brushed their teeth, and wound down for the night with a natural familiarity like they did it together every night. Lexa brought them each a glass of water. They stumbled over who liked what side of the bed and awkwardly both agreed to just take the one they were closest to.

“Do you always read before bed?” Clarke asked. Lexa had her reading light on and paged through a novel as Clarke snuggled down into the blankets with a healthy amount of space between them.

“Most nights,” Lexa replied without taking her eyes off the page. “Is the light going to bother you?”

“Nah,” Clarke yawned and rolled onto her side away from Lexa.

“Great,” Lexa exhaled.

She couldn’t focus on the words on the page before her, but the book gave her hands and eyes and brain a reason to stay busy so she didn't slide across the mattress and make a bad decision that would blow up the lives of everyone she cared about.

“Goodnight, Lexa,” Clarke murmured into her pillow.

“Goodnight, Clarke,” Lexa couldn’t stop herself from patting Clarke affectionately on the hip, then let her hand linger and stay there as she read. A delighted smile that Lexa couldn’t see bloomed on Clarke’s lips as she drifted off.

***

In the middle of the night, Clarke startled awake with a desperate gasp. She shot bolt upright and choked out a confused shout.

“What?! Huh?!” Lexa shook herself awake beside her.

“Where’s my phone?” Clarke asked in a tight tone. She frantically ruffled the sheets and checked her bedside table. “They’re calling me! It’s happening! Where the fuck is my phone?”

“Clarke, hey,” Lexa tried and gently reached out for Clarke’s hand. “What’s going on?”

“We have to go to the hospital, Lexa! Right now! They’re calling me!” Clarke’s voice was strained by fear and disoriented tears.

“No one is calling you. You’re asleep,” Lexa turned her reading light on and they both squinted and shrank away from it.

“Where’s my phone?” Clarke asked again, smaller this time.

“You left it on the piano,” Lexa sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“Your apartment looks different tonight,” Clarke whined and gripped the blankets in her fists.

“Clarke,” Lexa said more firmly. “We’re not in my apartment. We’re in Arizona for work.”

Clarke pinched her eyes closed and worked to slow her anxious breathing.

“I think you were having a bad dream,” Lexa tried gently. Clarke covered her face with her hands and took a few heavy breaths in and out. Everything was cramped and strangling and wrong and too much.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke’s tiny, embarrassed voice snuck through the cracks in her fingers. “I definitely was. I’m actually awake now. I’m so sorry.”

“No need to be sorry,” Lexa shrugged sleepily. “Are you okay?”

“I have the nightmare that they’re calling me to tell me they’re dead all the time,” Clarke sighed and wiped her panicked tears away. “It’s some version of the same thing every time. I’m asleep in my apartment and I can’t find my phone, but I can hear it ringing and I know that’s what the call is, and I can’t find it and I miss it. I don’t get to say goodbye and they’re,” her voice cracked and she gulped down a difficult swallow.

She held her hands up hopelessly and let them fall with devastating weight into her lap.

“And they’re just gone,” Clarke pushed out through a taut whisper.

“That sounds awful,” Lexa blurted out, too close to sleep to remind herself to be delicate.

“I was in your apartment this time. You were there,” Clarke glanced away to let the new detail pass by and mow Lexa over like a train. “We were asleep in your bed.”

“We were?” Lexa’s voice got stuck on the confusing set of emotions at play in the room.

“Where did you say my phone was?” Clarke winced. She clenched her eyes shut and clenched her teeth and clenched most of the muscles in her body at how uncomfortable she was with every aspect of the entire ordeal. “It helps me get back to sleep if I check it and see that there really was no phone call.”

“It’s on the piano. I’ll get it,” Lexa tried to offer up a comforting smile, but didn’t quite get there.

“Wait, no you don’t have to,” Clarke waved her hands to stop her and reached for Lexa’s arm as she got out of the bed.

“It’ll just take a second,” Lexa assured her softly, then got up with a smooth certainty.

Lexa’s bare feet were quiet. The light from the studio put a perfect frame of her silhouette in the doorframe in her pajamas. She looked tall and long in the lowlight.

“No calls,” Lexa smiled kindy as she handed the phone to Clarke. Clarke opened the lock screen to triple check her call log and text messages.

She let out a huge sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” Clarke dropped her chin and kept her eyes down on her phone clutched in both hands in her lap. “I’m sorry, Lexa,” she tacked on in a low voice riddled with distress.

“I can’t imagine living with the knowledge that that call is coming and never knowing when,” Lexa said firmly as she settled back into bed beside Clarke. “That must be so hard. I absolutely hate that you live with that.”

Clarke turned sharply to meet Lexa’s comforting gaze and her eyes were full of new tears.

“It’s so hard,” Clarke admitted. Her voice was trapped in a whisper.

“How often do you have that dream?” Lexa asked kindly. She laid in bed next to Clarke on her side propped up on her elbow on the pillows.

“In a good week?” Clarke asked. Lexa nodded for her to continue. “Once or twice.”

“Jesus,” Lexa muttered.

“Sometimes it’s easier if I just don’t sleep a lot. It’s a big part of why I don’t. If I don’t sleep too deeply, I don’t dream as much,” Clarke sniffled and finally got her breathing under control. “It’s gotten a lot worse over the last year or two as they rapidly decline. I’m so sorry I woke you,” she tacked on as she set her phone on the nightstand.

“It’s alright,” Lexa soothed gently. “Can you usually get back to sleep after?”

“Sometimes,” Clarke shrugged and rubbed her eyes. She was embarrassed and exposed and wanted nothing more than for Lexa to hold her close but didn’t know how to ask. “Not always. Do you fall back to sleep if you get woken up?”

“Usually,” Lexa yawned, well on her way.

“Good,” Clarke exhaled.

“C’mere,” Lexa flopped on her back with her eyes closed. She held her arms open and patted the mattress beside her for Clarke to cozy up next to her. “I’ll hold you so you know you’re really here and not still in that dream.”

“Really?” Clarke asked eagerly.

Lexa responded simply with another sleepy pat on the mattress. Clarke fell right in and snuggled up beside her. The way their bodies fit into one another made them let out a unison sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” Clarke mumbled against Lexa’s shoulder.

“Any time, Clarke,” Lexa replied softly before drifting back to sleep.

Knowing it was only a matter of time before they took her away, Clarke allowed herself to relish in the reprieve of Lexa’s comforting hands and sleepy heartbeat.

***

Clarke woke up to desert sun filtering through the shades, the smell of Lexa’s hair products on the pillows, and the light notes of Lexa warming up on the piano in the next room. It was peaceful and perfect and she wanted it every day. Clarke exhaled a content sigh as she squeezed Lexa’s pillow to her chest before getting up.

Keeping all of her emotions in the correct lanes grew more and more difficult as Lexa grew sweeter, more thoughtful, too supportive and caring, and correspondingly sexier by the hour. Lexa’s unyielding comfort and consolation no matter how many angsty curveballs Clarke threw her way was impressive, delightful, and a complete and total turn on that Clarke needed to get and keep under control.

“The camera’s on!” Lexa called from the piano when she heard Clarke moving around in the bedroom.

Lexa’s piano prowess wasn’t making it easy to keep how attractive she was quiet.

“Thanks for the heads up,” Clarke grinned in the doorway in her husky morning voice.

“Morning, Sunshine,” Lexa matched the grin. She had her hair up and was already dressed in jeans and a soft tank top. She was up and working with sheet music all over the piano. One of the pages of lyrics from the day before on her stand had a coffee ring on it. Her phone was set up to capture her morning warm ups.

Before Clarke could make it past the piano, Lexa slid through the glissando and opening riffs of ‘I Want You Back’ by the Jackson 5. She flicked hopeful eyes up at Clarke.

“So it’s gonna be one of those mornings, huh?” Clarke joked and shot her hallmark wink at the camera to acknowledge it as she looped her arms around Lexa from behind in a sweet morning hug. Jumping headfirst into their act for the internet, Lexa leaned her head back to look up at Clarke who instinctively met her with a sleepy kiss on her forehead.

The giant grin Lexa beamed up at her was perfect for the act because it wasn’t an act at all.

“Sit down,” Lexa slid over to make room for Clarke on the bench as she played. “I made you a coffee,” she added and nodded at two mugs in front of them.

“Thank you,” Clarke said with a soft smile as she took hers in her hands and bopped to the beat. She jumped right into the opening lyrics right on time and right on key. Lexa chimed in with back up vocals. They laughed and smiled at each other with their whole hearts while they sang and danced in their seats.

Their soft morning looks and genuine smiles blended in with big laughter and harmonies. Both of them took the opportunity to exchange loving glaces that could be excused and ignored. As they pulled the song to a close, Lexa rolled right into the very recognizable opening notes of ‘Heard It Through The Grapevine.’

“Lex, I just woke up,” Clarke griped and nodded at the camera. “I’m in my pajamas and I look like hell.”

“Your pajamas are cute and so is your bedhead. Sing this one with me,” Lexa brushed her off and kept playing with an elated smile as she brought more style to her music. The camera caught Clarke’s very real blush and crushingly flirty grin that Lexa missed sitting beside her.

“Fine, but I’m playing, too,” Clarke sassed as she got off the bench and plugged in her electric guitar. She ripped through all of the song’s strings licks and tossed the bedhead in question around sarcastically.

Lexa laughed and kept rolling through motown hits. Clarke played and sang along. They harmonized to The Supremes as they refilled their coffees. They made their own versions of hits from The Four Tops and The Temptations as they passed a joint to loosen up for the day. Lexa made breakfast and kept singing from the kitchen as Clarke strummed through Sam & Dave hits on her acoustic sitting on the counter.

They got so into their cover of Stevie Wonder’s Signed, Sealed, Delivered that Clarke was on her knees playing a solo that caused Lexa to pause and just watch.

Clarke brought the pink Les Paul on the flight with her. At the time, Lexa couldn’t imagine why she’d need it, but seeing Clarke on her knees in a white camisole and pink striped pajama pants with a sheen of fresh sweat on her chest and those messy curls made it so very obvious.

Lexa stopped the video so she could take a few still photos of the moment.

It was so perfectly Clarke, the real Clarke, the Clarke that only she knew, that she had to have it forever. She couldn’t stop smiling at how good it all felt. Mornings playing music with Clarke held such a specific and secret, sacred magic that she wanted to cast every day.

It would be one of the things she missed most when they inevitably took Clarke away from her.

“Thank you ladies and gentlemen!” Clarke jokingly got to her feet out of breath and took a bow to a non-existent audience as she strummed her final chords over and over. “Clarke Griffin and Lexa Woods, live from Arizona! We’ll be here all night!”

Clarke’s chest rose and fell as she caught her breath. She turned and found Lexa sitting at the piano grinning ear to ear.

“What?” Clarke asked bashfully.

“I love to see you let yourself go and just have so much fun,” Lexa answered, unable to shake the glee and grin watching Clarke enjoy herself always brought with it.

“Making and enjoying music with you always brings it out of me,” Clarke caught Lexa’s grin. “Speaking of, as much as I’ve absolutely loved this motown morning, I feel very much warmed up and ready. We have a lot of work to do today. I’m determined to figure out what the missing words are in that damn chorus if it kills me.”

“Fortunately, this video accomplished most of our content work for the day,” Lexa held her phone up.

“Awesome. Send that to Ali. I’m gonna get dressed and then we’ll finish this song!” Clarke declared in a loud, goofy, operatic singing voice before heading to the bedroom.

Left alone in the room that reverberated with music and pulsed with tension and chemistry and warmth and confusion, Lexa uploaded the videos. She slid the photos into her Real Clarke folder with a sad smile knowing that all too soon, it would be all she had left.

“Did you get any texts this morning about changing your look yesterday?” Clarke called from the bedroom a few minutes later.

“No?” Lexa called back. She spread the sheet music and lyrics out on the piano from the night before so they could pick up where they left off. Satisfied with the layout, she crossed to the computer and pulled up their tracks. “Did you?”

“Yup!” Clarke laughed. “I am not to deviate from the style card today or I’ll be in trouble!”

“What did they pack for you? A prom dress?” Lexa joked, distracted by the computer.

“Nope,” Clarke replied lowly from the doorway. “Just very, very red lipstick that I must be heavily photographed in.”

Lexa glanced up absentmindedly from the computer at the sound of Clarke’s voice, then back to the screen before her brain caught up with her to execute an unmistakable, undeniable, bug eyed double take.

“Holy shit,” Lexa gulped.

Only three of the buttons on Clarke’s loose white button down were fastened. Rolled up sleeves, bare feet, another pair of those goddamn shorts, an agonizing amount of a black lace bra peeking through, and Clarke’s tan formed a grand crescendo up to her impeccably red lips that grabbed Lexa’s gaze and pinned it in place.

“What?” Clarke asked flatly.

“That is, uh,” Lexa swallowed hard. Her jaw tensed up and her tongue felt too big for her mouth.

It hit her abruptly and violently that she hadn’t kissed Clarke’s lips since she kissed them for real, and she couldn’t form a single other coherent thought.

“What?!” Clarke repeated, annoyed.

“That certainly is red,” Lexa finally offered up in a tense, high pitch to try and ease Clarke’s impatient discomfort.

“I totally forgot that I have a whole suite of Revlon ads coming out next week,” Clarke scowled and rolled her eyes. She held her phone up. “An updated shot list just dropped. Apparently, for cross promotion purposes, we have to emphasize how kissable I am.”

“Good! Great! Wonderful!” Lexa babbled and searched the desk for every possible excuse to use her hands for anything other than grabbing Clarke by the waist and showing her just how kissable she really was.

“All of which sounds much easier to do after we’ve had a few drinks, and it’s still early, so let’s get to work and worry about it later. Work for you?” Clarke asked through a phony grin.

“Very much so,” Lexa nodded firmly.

“Alright, fire that thing up. Let’s listen to the damn thing again and figure out what to do,” Clarke huffed and waved an annoyed hand at the computer as she crossed to get her notes.

Lexa made every excuse she could to stay put at the piano for most of the morning. Clarke stomped around the studio aimlessly trying out words and phrases for the missing lyrics in all different ranges of her singing voice. Lexa swore Clarke had an extra sway in her hips to everything Lexa played.

The can of Diet Coke Clarke left next to the computer had her bright red lipstick on the rim. Clarke bit her bottom lip when she was deep in thought, which she spent most of the day in trying to find her lost lyrics, and drew extra attention to her lips that already screamed for it. She held her guitar pick in her teeth when she needed to write something down while she played. Frustrated with herself, she lay on the floor next to the piano and blew smoke rings as she passed a joint to Lexa.

Every single thing in the room seemed to point at Clarke’s plump, perfect lips and Lexa found her eye and mind wandering to them much more than they already did.

The air between them shifted into something flirty around lunchtime.

Lexa moved around the kitchen with busy feet and swinging shoulders while she cooked. The playlist full of dance music that had deep grooves, heavy bass, hip hop verses and old school horn samples made it impossible not to dance. Clarke joined her in the kitchen and couldn’t stop her hips from bouncing to Lexa’s tracks.

They knew how to anticipate the other’s movements and Clarke sidestepped and spun out of Lexa’s way with a silly dancing face and a few goofy flourishes. Lexa mirrored Clarke’s footwork with a playful smile that invited the dance challenge. They taunted each other with exaggerated old school dances like the twist and the swim and laughed harder with each set of moves.

Clarke bent at the waist to look through the bottom of the fridge for a round of beers just as Lexa spun around to open the fridge to add something to one of her pans on the stove. She bumped into Clarke and instinctively grabbed Clare by the hips to steady her. Lexa winced and froze in the incriminating position of hands on Clarke’s hips, Clarke bent over with her ass backed right up into Lexa’s lap with painfully tempting music begging them to move to it for real.

The coyest smirk came back at Lexa over Clarke’s shoulder.

When Lexa’s tense hands relaxed into something confident, Clarke broke the tension by comically shaking her butt to the beats right into Lexa. With permission granted, Lexa tightened her grip and pulled Clark closer. The look of shock on Clarke’s face when Lexa expertly pulled her back and up, then spun her around to catch her in her arms ready to formally dance was extra loud with her camera ready lipstick.

Clarke’s surprise quickly dissolved into intrigue when Lexa took the lead around the kitchen dancefloor. She had a can of beer in each hand and couldn’t put hers on Lexa, who knew it and made sure her dance playfully kept Clarke away from any surfaces where she could put them down.

They didn’t speak. They communicated through smirks and looks and footwork and dance moves and one upped one another over and over. Lexa offered up a self satisfied brow wag thinking she’d won. Clarke shook her head and tsked loudly before changing her grip on one of the beers so she could pop the tab in the same hand. She brought it to her lips, slowly put back the whole thing, then tossed the empty can into the sink.

She opened the other beer with two hands and offered it to Lexa, then wound up and smacked Lexa on the butt with her newly available palm.

“I told you that you shouldn’t play with me because I play to win, but you didn’t listen,” Clarke sighed as she sauntered back into the studio and left Lexa stunned and bothered to finish their lunch.

The new energy followed them into the afternoon.

They needlessly brushed up against one another anytime they passed by the other in the studio. Clarke leaned into Lexa’s touch every time. Lexa stopped flinching when Clarke reached over her shoulder from behind to point at something in the sheet music on the piano or the computer screen and pressed her chest into Lexa’s back. The exchanged looks that had always been some combination of challenging, understanding, playful, and sarcastic made the tiniest shift over the line they never crossed into cautiously inviting, but hovered in the gray area of jokes and part of the bit if the other wasn’t interested.

A lunchtime beer buzz followed by wine with dinner to keep them light and loose as Lexa took dozens of photos that featured Clarke’s captivating mouth punched dents in their resolve. The new layer of flirtation spread on top of the sweetness and the friendship and the trust and the kindness felt like a natural progression, felt like part of the act, and confused and enticed them both in tandem.

They spent the whole day sprucing up the production work and filling in creative runs to the music in between testing the waters on passively trying to turn the other on. Every ounce of the song sounded great and was ready for review, but they still had a hole in the chorus after dinner. With their stay almost up, they were forced to call it.

“I guess we’ve done all we can, and they’ll have to help us put the finishing touches on it when we get home,” Clarke tipped her head back to down the last of her beer. “I gotta say, we did a real bang up job on this thing. We came out here with a dud, and now it’s damn close to being a hit.”

“I’m glad we came out here. It really did help us turn this thing around,” Lexa shook her head and gathered up the loose papers all over the piano. “It’s truly been a pleasure working with you on this. Just imagine the music we could make if we did it regularly. I wish you were my songwriting partner all the time.”

“I wanna be yours,” Clarke agreed through a pick bit between her teeth as she set her guitar back in its case. “But without all this extra bullshit.”

“Clarke,” Lexa stood up abruptly with stern eyes and stiff shoulders. “I wanna be yours,” she said frankly and intensely.

“You do?” The pick fell out of Clarke’s mouth as she gulped in frantic fear that one of them finally said it.

“That’s the name of the song!” Lexa clarified with excitement escalating out of control on her face. Clarke’s panic soared right over her head. “That’s what the missing lyrics are! The phrase we can’t figure out!” Lexa went on urgently. “Blah blah-dee blah blah! I wanna be yours!” she finished with an electric grin.

“I wanna be yours!” Clarke broke into a relieved grin that she could both say it outloud and didn’t have to admit it at the same time. “It’s so simple and so obvious and so perfect and it was sitting right there the whole time!”

“It can’t really be that simple,” Lexa began as Clarke perked up the more she let it roll around. “Can it?”

“Yes! Yes it can! That’s it! That’s exactly it! That’s the whole feeling summed up right there! What we’ve been trying to boil it all down to! That’s what all of the other lyrics are trying to say. Push all the other stuff aside, forget the consequences, who cares what it means if it’s true or what it’s gonna do to my life, at the end of the day, I just wanna be yours,” Clarke cried passionately.

The look on Lexa’s face as she tried to decipher whether or not Clarke was still talking about the song could be dismissed as processing Clarke’s thoughts, and they both decided to let that be what it was.

“Play the song from the beginning,” Clarke frantically gestured at the computer and hurried to the mic. She slipped on her headphones and rolled her shoulders and shook off the mounting nerves.

Lexa pulled the file up and hit play while opening a track to record whatever Clarke was about to do. She rubbed her hands together in anticipation and waited as beats and bars of the opening verse carried on and built up to the chorus.

“I wanna be yours!” Clarke sang out right on time. They both immediately locked eyes with wide open mouthed grins. Clarke waved her hands with glee and ran in place. She waited for the next blank spots in the song that needed their new lyrics and she sang it out again with all of the pure and raw honesty the words proclaimed.

They worked it through to the end and Clarke filled in all the gaps, each time she sang it out more earnestly than the last.

“Start it over! Play it back!” Clarke cried excitedly as she pulled her headphones off.

They stood side by side as Lexa pressed play again. Both of them stiffened up in anticipation as the chorus approached. The music swelled and the beats picked up and they grabbed at one another’s hands as they waited for Clarke’s new chorus to come through.

It was perfect when it hit.

They both fell into a relieved embrace with a unison exhale.

“Oh my god, it fits just right,” Clarke sighed. “It’s perfect! It’s exactly what they wanted!”

“Let’s make it official,” Lexa spread her notes back out and picked up her pencil. She added ‘I Wanna Be Yours’ to the top of every page in her neat, blocked handwriting. “I think you better go get those bubbles out of the fridge, because we officially have a new song, and I’m officially proud of it,” Lexa pointed over her shoulder towards the kitchen.

“I’ll drink to that!” Clarke scurried to the kitchen with a new bounce in her step and hurried back with two champagne flutes and the bottle that greeted them. “Let’s knock out the last of any content crap we have, because I wanna clock out and relax a little. My ride is coming for me in,” she paused to tap her phone on the coffee table and look at the time. “Ulgh, six hours?!”

“That’s just rude,” Lexa chuckled.

“Get me opening this,” Clarke nodded at Lexa’s phone on the piano as she worked the bottle of bubbles with two hands. “Our celebration shots should be good stuff for this.”

“Be careful,” Lexa jokingly warned.

“Please, you think this is my first time opening champagne?” Clarke gave Lexa a routinely annoyed look as she expertly popped the cork. They both let out a cheer and Lexa filmed them. “Heyo! Here we go!” Clarke laughed as she filled their glasses.

“Cheers to a wonderful collaboration!” Lexa turned the camera to front facing and got in the shot with Clarke.

“Nice job, Babe,” Clarke smiled at her sweetly and kissed Lexa’s cheek. A light smudge of the red lipstick she’d been reapplying all day to stay repped for candids stayed behind on Lexa’s jawline. They clinked their glasses and sipped and Lexa turned the camera off.

“And a real one that no one else gets to see,” Lexa began in a much more serious tone. Clarke, startled, perked up. “This trip has been incredibly special. I know we came into it apprehensively, but I’m so proud of all of the work we did here together. This entire journey with you has been by far one of the strangest endeavors of my life, but I wouldn’t trade one second of it. It’s been a true pleasure getting to know who you really are, to work with you, to make music with you, to create with you, and to get through this with you. I don’t know if I could’ve done it with anyone else.”

“Damn, Lexa,” Clarke smiled sheepishly and dipped her chin to hide the flush in her cheeks. “Where’s all this coming from?”

“No matter what happens, no matter what plot they have to end this, to end us,” her voice cracked and she paused and pointed back and forth between them. “No matter how they make us treat each other later, we’ll always know what was fake and what was real. The art was real, and we were real with each other inside of all of this. I’m not just talking about the new song when I say cheers to a job well done,” Lexa held her glass up again.

“Cheers,” Clarke replied with bashful eyes at the heavy words. She clinked her glass against Lexa’s and took a tentative sip. “I didn’t prepare a speech,” she added anxiously.

“You always bring all of our words,” Lexa gestured at the pages and piles of notes and lyrics spread out on the floor all around them. “I figured I could take a turn.”

“That was all unbelievably nice,” Clarke’s voice shrank as the weight of Lexa’s words pressed down on them.

Despite being their wordsmith, Clarke couldn’t find any for the emotion she felt when she took in Lexa’s deep gaze that was somehow sad and hungry for her at the same time. It was new, it was confusing, and it felt absolutely enormous.

“It’s all true,” Lexa shrugged with a shy smile that emphasized the imprint of Clarke’s lips on her skin.

“Do we have any more work to do?” Clarke asked hopefully. “I’d love to get to just chill a little together before I have to crash and wake up at two for my ride.”

“Let’s see,” Lexa squinted at her phone and pulled up their content list. “We did that, we did that, we did these,” she muttered through wine stained lips as she scrolled. “Oh,” she stopped short.

“What?” Clarke winced.

“There’s one left,” Lexa replied apprehensively. “The last in the series of how kissable you are.”

“Let’s get it over with,” Clarke urged.

“Kissing selfie for the gram, studio in the background,” Lexa exhaled uneasily.

They pulled their eyes off of each other in unison.

The day had been chock full of talk about kissing, and both of their brains hummed with the thoughts that the last time they brought their lips together, it was hard to stop.

“Easy enough,” Clarke nodded once succinctly in an effort to convince them both. They each downed their glass of bubbles and carefully stepped over the pages of lyrics and forgotten wine bottles from the afternoon to get to a spot with the best angle.

“Absolutely,” Lexa mirrored her tone.

“Get our good sides,” Clarke joked and switched spots with Lexa with a gentle pass of her hand across Lexa’s stomach as they awkwardly shuffled around each other.

For the first time in days, and days that were full of delicious tension and intellectual stimulation and affectionate curiosity and genuine care, Lexa pulled Clarke into their stance with the protective hand that felt like home resting at Clarke’s lower back. It sent a shot up Clarke’s spine that nudged her closer.

“Do you want me to count down or something?” Lexa asked nervously.

“Why are you making this weird?” Clarke asked with the same nervous flicker in her voice. She had one hand at Lexa’s waist and the other draped idly over her shoulder as Lexa held her arm outstretched to take the photo. “What’s up with you?”

“I don’t know,” Lexa shrugged with an impish grin. “Nothing. Just tired and a little buzzed, I guess.”

“Are you sure? Are your feet okay?” Clarke asked and gently rubbed her thumb against the back of Lexa’s neck with soothing intentions, but the results were anything but. Her new zesty, flirty attitude fell away and when Lexa brought her gaze from the camera to Clarke’s eyes to find them full of love and concern.

“I’m good,” Lexa lied.

“Are we in the frame?” Clarke chuckled anxiously and they both looked at the screen. “You kiss me in front of hundreds of people all the time, what’s the hold up?”

Lexa couldn’t bring herself to admit that kissing Clarke in front of an audience was easy and kissing her alone felt inconceivable.

“I’ve got us,” Lexa made a goofy face that Clarke saw on the screen. The resulting giggle and smile that she let out made Lexa’s knees weak.

“What kind of kiss is this?” Clarke asked, her lips dangerously close to Lexa’s ear. “Who are we right now?”

Everything in the shot, including the two of them and their clothes, fell into a spectrum from tan to white except for Clarke’s lips that screamed in bright red. They taunted Lexa like a bull to a matador.

“Two sex monsters in love in a secluded desert recording paradise making music for three days with unlimited booze and weed experiencing the euphoria of just finishing writing a new song they’ve been struggling with,” Lexa replied flatly.

“Hot and celebratory. Got it,” Clarke said back in a quick and rigid tone to match.

Lexa’s eyes locked in on Clarke’s lips, but she couldn’t bring herself to kiss them. She froze. She wanted every kiss with Clarke to be real so badly that she couldn’t make herself take one anymore if it wasn’t.

Fed up with Lexa’s hesitation, Clarke leaned in to close the gap between them with a gentle, unassuming kiss that was slow and steady enough to get aesthetically caught in photos. After hearing the clicking of Lexa’s phone camera, they both naturally went back in for another with less uncertainty that snuck its toe over the line into something else.

They both pulled back abruptly and intensely searched the other’s eyes for the truth. The thick air hummed between them urging them closer and closer to the breaking point.

Lexa dropped her phone unceremoniously and pulled Clarke back in with both hands for the real kiss she’d been trying not to give her for days. Clarke softened all over and melted into Lexa’s arms and kissed her back with relief and passion. She tightened her grip on the back of Lexa’s neck to pull her in as close as she could to deepen her kiss into the confession she couldn’t form with her words.

“Wait! Wait, we shouldn’t,” Lexa whispered frantically between wet kisses. She gripped the back of Clarke’s shirt to steady herself and lasted only moments in her hectic will to stop before she was all over Clarke again. Her hands found their way under the hem of Clarke’s shirt to rest on her bare waist before she pulled back again. “I shouldn’t have done that. We shouldn’t do this,” Lexa could barely get the words out before she caught Clarke’s mouth with her own again.

“Then stop me,” Clarke said breathlessly as she moved to kiss Lexa’s neck and leaned into their embrace with her whole body.

“I can’t stop you,” Lexa winced. Her voice hitched when Clarke’s tongue lingered on her pulsepoint. Her brain screamed at her to push Clarke away, but her hands crept across Clarke’s skin to her lower back to bring her in. “I’m trying so hard and I just can’t.”

“Neither can I. Try to talk me out of it,” Clarke borderline begged. Her low whisper and wet lips and wooing, lidded eyes were too much. The way her hips moved under Lexa’s touch dragged a jagged breath and squeak of conflicting agony out of Lexa that egged Clarke on even more.

“I can’t,” Lexa almost choked. “I want you too badly and I just can’t.”

“Then talk me into it,” Clarke brought sultry eyes up to meet Lexa’s and threaded her fingers up into Lexa’s sweaty curls.

“I can’t do that either,” Lexa swallowed hard.

“Why not?” Clarke’s lips lingered so close that they brushed Lexa’s ever so slightly when she spoke.

“Because I can’t say the things I need to say to feel good about talking you into it,” Lexa’s voice disappeared into Clarke’s collar bones as she stole kisses she shouldn’t. “I can’t tell you the truth.”

“What would you say if you could?” Clarke’s chest rose and fell in anticipation.

“I’d tell you the truth,” Lexa murmured as she brought her lips up to the crook of Clarke’s neck, then to the luscious spot where Clarke’s jaw met her ear and her neck. “I’d tell you that I love you, and that I’m so in love with you that I can’t think straight. That all I can think about is you.”

“Lexa,” Clarke whispered with wide, panicked, pleading eyes and hands that searched for safety.

“But you made me promise that if I fell in love with you that I wouldn’t tell you. I don’t break promises to the people I love, so if you need me to talk you into it, I can’t,” Lexa pulled back with purpose and earnest eyes. Clarke hopefully and sincerely searched them and finally, truly felt and understood good and honest trust for the first time.

It was exhilarating.

She pulled Lexa in as tightly as she could and kissed her with lips that held promises and gratitude and apologies and dangerous and wonderful possibilities.

“I want to be yours so badly, but there’s just,” Clarke trailed off before Lexa cut her off with a kiss that insisted on more and told her she was safe, and she was right, and she was exactly where and when she was supposed to be. Clarke’s body rolled into Lexa’s and shuddered involuntarily. “There’s just too much.”

“Right now it looks like there’s just you and me,” Lexa’s voice was breathy between deep kisses.

“Why do you love me?” Clarke got out through a strained whisper. Her eyes were wide with the need for the truth.

“How could I not?” A little laugh escaped through Lexa’s love filled grin. “Your brain is incredible, your resilience is admirable, your humor makes me want to get out of bed in the morning, your voice is straight out of heaven, and your body makes mine vibrate like it never has before.”

Clarke snuck a hand in to cover her eyes before she snuck in another quick kiss. A hot flood of new and overwhelming emotion clouded every part of her.

“You make me feel like myself in a world that doesn’t let me. I’ve been holding myself back for so long, and I’m gonna burst,” Lexa admitted. “I know things are more than complicated in every possible way with the two of us, so if you don’t feel the same way, please say something and I’ll back off, but I-”

Clarke cut Lexa off with a reassuring, aggressive, powerful kiss.

“You make me feel like myself, too,” Clarke gasped as she dropped to the floor and pulled Lexa down on top of her. “I never thought it would feel good to be myself, never thought anyone would let me, but when I’m me and you’re you, it just feels so,” Clarke paused, her chest rising and falling with swelling anxiety and relief at the same time. She laid on her back on top of all of their notes and lyrics with Lexa straddling her lap, a hand on either side of Clarke looking down at her with those eyes that told Clarke she was going to be okay.

“Right,” Lexa finished for her.

There was nothing left to say.

Clarke yanked Lexa in for the kiss that said everything she couldn’t. Her lips and hips and breaths told Lexa that she was hers, that she could have her, that they were each other’s now and there was no stopping it.

The strength Lexa usually upheld to protect Clarke and reassure Clarke and guard and guide Clarke and sooth and console Clarke was mind numbingly hot when she stopped holding back and used the same strength to take a hold of Clarke with hands that took orders from primal needs.

They rolled across the floor to put Clarke on top and knocked over a wine bottle that spilled all over their notes. Both of them ignored it, totally lost in finally giving in to every urge that had nagged and whispered and percolated between them. Lexa finally ran her hands through Clarke’s hair, she finally pressed her lips to Clarke’s sweaty chest and finally heard all of the short huffs of want and need Clarke let out as she ground her hips into Lexa’s.

Lexa grabbed Clarke by the waist, put her on her back, sat across her hips again, then gripped the front of Clarke’s shirt and ripped it open. Clarke gasped and her stunned eyes met Lexa’s above her before Lexa eased herself down to burry her face in the tits that had been taunting her for a month.

Clarke dropped her head back and let her arms fall out to the sides as she arched up into Lexa and totally gave herself over. She stopped thinking, stopped worrying, stopped weighing consequences and let go of everything as she released control of her body and let Lexa just have her.

While she claimed all of her daddy energy was manufactured, the way Lexa moved, the way she knew every exact spot to put her lips to pull new sounds out of Clarke, the way her hands found new homes in every new stretch of skin they touched made Clarke believe every single rumor.

Lexa’s fear was gone. Lexa’s stress evaporated. They were the only two people in the world as they rolled across the floor with a trail of clothes and spilled wine behind them giving themselves and each other everything they thought they couldn’t have. Lexa didn’t think about the band, she didn’t think about the future, she didn’t think about anything other than Clarke writhing below her.

Clarke let herself dissipate into the existential state of it all. The pure euphoria that exploded in her brain when Lexa finally slipped her fingers into her was better than the highest high and the best drugs. For the first time, Clarke rode the magic of the sixth sense of fucking someone she loved.

Lexa shouted nonsense in between trying to call out Clarke’s name but having no voice to do it when Clarke had her head between Lexa’s legs and grabbed at the floor around them trying to find anything to tether her to the earth while Clarke’s tongue sent her to another planet.

They made it to bed by the third or fourth time, neither of them kept count.

After hours of blurry, wonderful, rough, exhilarating sex and magic, Lexa rolled over on the mattress and gasped for breath. Her eyes lulled close while Clarke gently stroked her tired fingers up and down Lexa’s back.

Clarke exhaled a deep sigh through a lovestoned grin as she watched Lexa drift off to sleep.

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