#(chanting) bad batch eve! bad batch eve! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ecfandom · 5 years

Note

okay so in that case... food/grocery shoppin' before christmas. feat. ellie on lexa's shoulders, picking out things from the top shelves.

I am incapable of writing anything less then utter ridiculousness, so here’s this drama fest.

Also, I didn’t have Ellie on Lexa’s shoulders, but they DID go shopping. So.

And finally, these last few months have been a rough one, financially, and while I love writing, it is incredibly time consuming. So, I’m linking my Kofi page here, which I hate doing, but alas, it is what it is. No need to feel any pressure. It’s there if you’re interested.

Sunday was usually a busy day for shopping at the local grocery store in the tiny town of Polis, Maine. The only one for miles, it was the practically a staple, a beloved gathering place. However, it was a particularly dreary day that kept most residents home, leaving the store nearly deserted save for the few brave Christmas Eve procrastinators.

Trisha, the only cashier on duty, sat at her stool, cringing every time the doors slid open letting in a gusty, winter wind determined to freeze everything in its path. Shivering at the thought of it, she turned up the small heater at her station and hunkered down in her oversized sweater.

Christmas music echoed through the empty aisles of the store, the wind howled, and colorful lights flickered happily on the small Christmas trees set just inside the door, oblivious to the storm that raged outside. A mechanical Santa danced merrily by the produce, greeting the gusts of wind and the patrons with equal abandon.

Trisha leaned her elbows on the surface next to her register, her chin upon her hands, and surveyed the quiet goings on around her. She liked this new town of hers. It was cozy and pleasant, just like the people. A flash of light from a car’s headlights cut across the doors, blurred by the heavy snowfall as a truck traipsed up the ramp from the side road and into the parking lot. Trisha tracked it lazily, wondering whose wife it was this time that had sent their thoroughly scolded husband out in the storm to pick up the Christmas turkey they should have grabbed days ago.

The truck swung carefully into a parking spot outside the front of the store and idled for a moment, its headlights lighting up the flurries of snowflakes slanting down in unrelenting volume. A figure hopped out from the driver’s side, tall and dressed well for the storm. A native, no doubt. A Florida transplant herself, Trisha had no concept of what winter wear truly meant. She’d thought her sweater and p-coat would be enough. She had been wrong. This figure though, dressed in dark wash jeans and a heavy Lumberjack coat, looked entirely unperturbed as they jogged around to the back door of the truck and leaned inside.

The store doors jingled as they slid open and the new arrivals ran in, one large, one miniature. She watched them with the curiosity of a newcomer getting to know her new neighbors as the woman-- not someone’s husband, then-- stomped snow free from the heavy boots she wore. Trisha smiled, almost laughed, when the pint-sized thing next to her watched for a moment, then quickly followed suit. The routine went on, well practiced and utterly endearing. The woman twisted herself to and fro, shaking snowflakes from her coat, pretending not to notice the young girl copying her every move. It was only when the woman moved to her hat, pushed it back, and shook water out of her hair that she finally made a show of it for the little girl. Pitching herself forward and shaking her head like a shaggy dog, the woman let out a sound resembling that of a motorboat until the little girl could no longer copy, too overcome by a fit of giggles.

Trisha was entranced, in love with the display of unbridled affection. It made her happy that she had a place to call home, happy that it was Christmas--white and festive and wonderful. So unlike the place she’d just come from. Lost in thought, Trisha barely noticed when the display stopped, but when she did, she was momentarily caught completely off guard by the warm eyes that drifted over to her, and the mesmerizing grin she received at having been caught watching the adorable exchange. The woman was stunning, an unfamiliar and breathtaking combination of handsome lines and beautiful features. The little girl was just as gorgeous in the way that some children had wonderfully expressive eyes, a beaming smile, and a passion and enthusiasm for the world around her. As they passed, Trisha was nodded at by one, waved to with a tiny hand from the other, but all she could really do was stare after the enthralling pair as they disappeared down an aisle.

“So, baby--” Lexa said as she pushed them towards the baking aisle.

“I’m not a baby!” Ellie squealed. “I’m a big girl! Henry is a baby!”

“You’re right. Please forgive me.”

“You’re forgiven, Mommy.”

“Phew!” Lexa wiped the back of her hand over her forehead in exaggerated relief, and grinned at her little girl. “Thanks, big girl.”

“You’re welcome,” Ellie said seriously before returning to her eagle-eyed perusal of the shelves. “We need sugar.”

“You’re correct. Anything else?”

“Flour and butter and...sprinkles?” She added at the end, sounding a bit unsure of herself but looking hopeful.

Lexa smiled down at those inquisitive blue eyes and felt a pang for her wife, the resemblance even more uncanny now than it had been when Lexa had first met the two of them nearly three years ago. They’d been gone for less than a half-hour, and already Lexa wanted, maybe needed, to have Clarke in her arms again. They’d spent all morning cuddling to the sounds of the winter storm rolling in before being awakened by the distressing calls of their five-year old, who--upon a rushed arrival into the bedroom--promptly through up all of the Santa cookies she’d snuck down to the kitchen to eat. With that, the day reared into action and hadn’t looked back. Three night shifts in a row this past week, and Lexa longed for the comforting feel of Clarke tucked into her arms where she could keep her safe and warm. She smiled and shook her head, running her hand through Ellie’s wind-swept hair.

“Yeah, we can get sprinkles if you’d like. We need icing too.”

“Yes! Icing!”

“You have to promise not to eat this batch though, sweetheart. You’ll get sick again and Santa won’t have anything to eat. We won’t have time to run to the store again before he comes.”

“I won’t,” Ellie swore, eyes wide and earnest. “I promise. I really, really won’t.”

“Okay, love. I trust you.”

“What’s trust?”

“It means I believe you.”

“Oh. Thanks, Mommy. I trust you too.”

“That’s good. You can always trust me.”

“ I know. You’re a good truster person. Mommy, I did not feel very good from those cookies.”

“That’s because you ate twelve of them.”

“Yeah.” Ellie nodded and rubbed at her stomach. “That was not good.”

“No, I imagine not.”

“But I’m not going to do that again!”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Do you think Santa will still come?”

Lexa paused. “Why wouldn’t he?”

“Because I was bad,” Ellie murmured, her head downturned.

Lexa smiled at the sweetness of her little girl. “You weren’t bad sweetheart, you just made a questionable decision.”

“What’s quest--questio--” she stumbled on the word and frowned. “What’s that?”

Lexa grabbed a bag of chocolate chips off the shelf and hesitated in thought. “Questionable,” Lexa repeated, sounding it out. “It means something that is probably not a good idea because it raises a lot of doubt.”

“What’s doubt?”

“Like disbelief.”

“Oh.”

She handed the chocolate chips to Ellie to store in their canvas grocery bag and pushed them along. “Does that make sense?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“So, not bad?”

“The decision wasn’t a very good one, but that doesn’t make you as a person bad. Sometimes, we make bad choices, but that doesn’t mean we are bad because of it. We have to make mistakes in order to learn. You’re a smart girl and you know better than anybody else what feels good for your body and what doesn’t. Now you know that twelve cookies is too much. Next time, you can remember that and it will help you make a better decision.”

“No more cookies ever,” Ellie groaned, looking up at Lexa with such earnestness, Lexa couldn’t help but grin.

“I think maybe one cookie at a time would be okay.”

Ellie pondered it. “Yeah, that’s maybe okay. Just one cookie. Can I have one cookie tonight?”

“Let’s see how you feel. Does your tummy still hurt?”

“No, but it still feels a little weird.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Lexa commiserated, and pushed them down another aisle.

“But if I feel better, can I have one cookie?”

“Let’s see what mommy thinks when we get home. She’s the smarty doctor.”

“And you’re the smarty firefighter!”

“You got it, kiddo.”

“And I’m the smarty baby!” Ellie cheered, completing the chant that had at some point become ritual in their household.

“I thought you were a big girl?” Lexa teased.

“Oh yeah.” Ellie frowned in thought. “Can I still be the smarty baby?”

“Of course you can, smarty baby. You can be whatever you want.”

“What will Henry be?”

“He’ll be the noisy baby.”

“Oh. Is that bad?”

Lexa grinned. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

“I think he’ll be good.”

“I’m sure you’re right. What’s next?”

Ellie furrowed in thought, then brightened. “Can we get some juice?”

***

It was half past noon when Clarke found herself rousing from a nap she hadn’t intended to take. She blinked sleep from her eyes, but made no effort to move. The couch beneath her was soft and plush, the air pleasantly warm from the crackling flames in the fireplace. The sky outside was a dark grey, despite the early hour, and the lights inside her home glowed wonderfully against it. The tree was lit, the garland across the mantle dotted with lights as well. It was beautiful and cozy, and her lids felt heavy once more. Clarke let her head drop back and curled her legs up further beneath the heavy knitted blanket atop her.

She checked her watch, mildly concerned that Lexa wasn’t back yet, but the storm had likely put road speeds at a crawl. Lexa was no novice when it came to navigating through a winter storm, and so she told herself to be patient, and gazed out the French doors to the backyard, watching the flurries come down around her. Her hand drifted to her stomach and rubbed at the swell, smiling softly to herself.

“They’ll be home soon,” she mused, smiling down at her stomach. She loved being pregnant, more so than she might admit out loud. Her first time around, things in her world had been so dark and uncertain. On many days, it was only Ellie’s constant companionship inside of her that got her through. This time, everything was different. Life was happy and safe. She had a wonderful home, a wonderful extended family close by, and a wife that made her world go ‘round. It was nothing like the first time--except for the joy of carrying the little life inside of her. That was exactly the same.

While this pregnancy, like Ellie’s, had not been without its scary, and sometimes painful complications, Clarke cherished these moments. In no time, Henry would be here. The love would be the same, would grow tenfold the second she saw him, but nothing quite compared to the nine months of growing their child inside her, nourishing and protecting him with all that she was. She could hardly stand to wait any longer to meet him, but their connection would be forever different, and she knew that a part of her would grieve this time with him for a little while, just as she had with Ellie.

A flutter in her stomach made her smile as she continued to stroke her belly, pausing each time to catch the fleeting motions.

“Oh hi there,” she cooed fondly, a laugh in her voice. “Did you have a good sleep?”

A small limb pressed against her from the inside and she imagined him stretching, blinking awake slowly just as his sister did, just as she did.

So much of Ellie was from her. There were moments, extremely rare and not so often now, when Clarke thought she’d seen Jack in the shape of a gesture or the curve of an expression. That had been when Ellie was younger, mostly a baby. These days, what wasn’t Clarke, or an Ellie original, was entirely Lexa. While Ellie resembled Clarke physically in every way, it had only taken three years for Ellie to morph into a tiny version of her wife. They moved the same way, spoke the same way, their facial expressions nearly identical. It was incredible to watch, if she could keep from tearing up long enough to do so. Recently, Clarke had noticed that they had the same smile these days, and that was perhaps the loveliest part. Lexa had saved their lives and had introduced a love and happiness Clarke had never in her wildest dreams imagined she could have. She adored seeing Lexa in their little girl, and couldn’t wait to see how they would continue to rub off on each other.

For the first year or so of Ellie’s life, it had mostly just been the two of them. Henry would be born into a world full of family, all making up important parts of his life. As her due date loomed closer than ever, she often wondered what wonderful combination of the people she loved she would see in him. Would he take after Lexa, as Ellie had? Would she see her father in him? Her mother’s eyes, maybe? When fitful, he settled for Lexa’s voice. At the sound of Ellie’s, he launched into excited flurries of movement. At her own voice, he stirred gently, as if listening, as if responding. Already, he seemed so attuned to all of them. It didn’t really matter who he ended up resembling most, or even if he was entirely his own, she was just excited to meet him.

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” Lexa said quietly from the opening of the front hallway, her shoulder braced against the wall. When Clarke sat up and turned, she was instantly breathless by the immensity of love and attraction in Lexa’s eyes. It was the way Lexa always looked at her, and every time, it made Clarke’s heart swell. Lexa strode into the warm living room and took Clarke’s face into her hands, kissing her soundly.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hey,” Clarke breathed, content now that her people were home. “Where’s Ellie?”

“Taking off her boots.”

“Is it still crazy out there? We missed you.”

“It’s not so bad.” Lexa placed a warm, sure palm on Clarke’s belly, holding her and their baby, and kissed her again. “I missed you too. How do you feel? You doing okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine, sweetheart.”

“Good,” she said and ran her fingers through Clarke’s hair, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Mommy?” Ellie called, plodding down the hall.

“Where’s my sweet Elliebean?”

Ellie rounded the corner from the hall, her cheeks flushed from the biting air, her hair wild from the hat she’d plucked off and thrown somewhere. Her red and white polka dotted socks left wet footprints in her wake, slipping and sliding across the hardwood until Lexa stepped around the couch and caught her by the arm, steadying her.

“Say hi to mommy, then let’s go change your socks before you get cold.”

“I’m already cold,” Ellie reasoned, handing her grocery bag to Lexa before skipping over to Clarke.

“Hi baby,” Clarke greeted, humming happily at the kiss she got to her cheek and belly.

“Everyone keeps calling me a baby,” Ellie sighed. “I”m not a baby, I’m a big girl. Henry is the baby. Hello Henry,” she said in a muffled greeting, her face pressed to Clarke’s stomach for a moment before pulling back up.

Clarke chuckled at her and then turned to Lexa with an inquisitive smile. Lexa watched on from the kitchen with a grin and a shake of her head. She shrugged at Clarke’s look. Clarke turned back to Ellie and brushed the hair out of her face.

“You will always be my baby, but you are also a big girl, you’re right.”

“Will I be your baby even when I’m big like you and mommy?”

“Even then.”

“Really?”

“Forever and ever.”

Ellie seemed to ponder this for a moment before deciding with a nod that she liked the sound of that. “We got cookie stuff!”

“That’s great! Are you going to save them for Santa this time?”

“Yes, I promised.”

“That’s good.”

“Do you truster me?”

“Trust,” Lexa corrected from the kitchen. Clarke laughed and looked over at her again, wondering what on earth their conversations must be like when she’s not around. Lexa just grinned and continued putting things away.

“Oh yeah,” Ellie corrected, “do you trust me?” She asked, pulling on the front of Clarke’s shirt for her attention.

Clarke turned back and was caught almost breathless by the beauty of her sweet, inquisitive face. “I do trust you,” she said, taking Ellie’s cold hands. She rubbed them between hers, warming them up. “I trust you very much.”

“Thank you,” Ellie responded, matter-of-fact, making Clarke laugh once again.

“You’re quite welcome, you silly goose.”

At Ellie’s shivering, Clarke frowned and pulled her into her lap, snuggling her close. “Let’s take those wet socks off. Are your boots leaking?”

“No, I did a snow angel at the store and the snow crawled in my pants and then it slid down my leg!” Ellie huffed, yanking her socks off.

“Oh no! You’re going to turn into a snow man!” Clarke exclaimed, laying back and tucking Ellie into her side as Ellie giggled and insisted that would not happen. She drew the knitted blanket over them, then the velvet one that rested over the back of the couch. In no time, they were both flush with the shared heat of their bodies pressed close. Ellie’s thumb creeped towards her mouth, a habit they’d still not managed to kick, as her head grew heavy on Clarke’s shoulder.

“Mommy?”

“Mm?”

“Can I have one cookie tonight?”

“How does your tummy feel?”

“It feels okay.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a little bit grumbly.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” She slipped her hand beneath Ellie’s shirt and rubbed the soft, warm skin there until her little eyes began to drift shut. “Maybe after dinner. Too much sugar isn’t good for you.”

Ellie nodded, nuzzling her ice cube nose into Clarke’s neck. “Twelve cookies is too many for my body.”

Clarke laughed quietly and pressed Ellie close. “Is that so?” She asked, but Ellie was already out. Clarke kissed the warm top of her head and closed her eyes, following her into sleep soon after.

***

Lexa sat at the kitchen table, watching her girls nap as she read the news on her new iPad, courtesy of Roan. She barely understood how to use the thing, but she had to admit that the accessibility to any news article she could possibly want was nice. She watched them for an hour, occasionally checking on the turkey they had roasting in the oven for dinner with the gang later that night. A dinner she would have to miss thanks to her fourth night shift, on Christmas Eve no less. Sighing, she stood and crossed to the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She’d have to be up for another thirteen hours and could use all the caffeine she could get.

She got through another three articles on the current state of veteran affairs before Clarke began to stir. She watched her run her fingers through Ellie’s hair and kiss her head. They looked so incredibly cozy in their cocoon of blankets. So soft and warm. Lexa ached just looking at them. The storm had yet to let up, and though the air inside the house was toasty, a chill passed through her at the sound of the howling wind. She got up, poured herself another cup of coffee and fixed a mug of tea for Clarke.

“Good nap?” She asked quietly, handing the mug to Clarke who sat up gently and resituated Ellie into her lap. Ellie nestled herself further into her mother’s side and stilled again.

Clarke took the mug and cupped the back of Lexa’s neck, running her hand through the hair at at her nape, loving the solid warmth under her palm. Her eyes went sad, and Lexa frowned.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“When do you leave?”

“Mmm.” Lexa scooted closer on her knees. “I’ve got to get going pretty soon. After Ellie and I make the new cookies.”

She ran the back of her fingers over the smooth skin of Clarke’s cheek. She was so warm. So soft. Lexa couldn’t get enough of her or the bundle in her arms. They had changed her life so much in the last three years. There were days when Lexa walked around their home with so much love in her heart it threatened to send her to her knees.

“You know how much I love you?”

Clarke smiled and scratched at Lexa’s nape, chuckling when Lexa nearly went slack. “Almost as much as we love you,” she whispered, and pulled her in for a kiss. The angle wasn’t great, with Ellie between them, and Lexa’s knees were going numb, but Clarke’ lips were so warm and soft. They were perfect. They were hers. They were home.

***

“Be sure to keep your lights on, and keep your defroster running.”

“I will.”

“And go slow, you know how the stop lights are in the storm.”

“I know.”

“And take the corners easy because the--”

“Sweetheart.”

“Yes?” Clarke paused with Lexa’s jacket in her hands.

Lexa grinned up at her from the floor where she knelt, tying her boots. She stood and rested her hands on Clarke’s hips, pulling her forward until her belly stopped them from getting any closer.

“Everything will be fine, love. I’ll be home before you know it.”

Clarke helped Lexa into her jacket, then slid her hands up her arms and rested them on her shoulders. She gazed at her wife, taking in the strong line of her jaw, the beautiful color of her eyes, that unbelievably charming smile. There had been a time when Clarke swore she didn’t have any more love or trust to give to someone after her father had died and she’d wound up in an abusive relationship. Then, Lexa had come along with her endless charm and bottomless reserves of kindness. With Lexa, everything had changed. Clarke brushed her hands across Lexa’s chest, smoothing down the uniform beneath the coat.

She went to speak, but a pair of lightning-quick feet came skidding down the hallway, slamming into them, and arms wrapped around Lexa’s legs in a tight, little grip.

“There’s my girl!” Lexa scooped Ellie up and gave her a bounce, looking for a smile that didn’t come. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“You’re leaving.”

Lexa frowned and tapped the full bottom lip of Ellie’s pout. “I have to go to work, babygirl. You know that, we talked about it. I’ll be back before you wake up.”

“But what about Santa?”

“What about him?”

“He can’t come unless everyone is asleep!”

“As long as you’re asleep, sweetheart, Santa will come.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.”

“Are you gonna be a good girl for mommy?”

“Yes!”

“Good. You’re such a sweet girl.”

Ellie threw her arms around Lexa’s neck and buried her face in Lexa shoulder. Lexa could feel the tiny kisses being pressed there and she closed her eyes, holding Ellie tight. She hated night shifts--the missed dinners and bath times, the bedtime stories over the phone and the sleepy whines for her to come home. When the holiday shifts had come down from the chief, she could have passed off her shitty hand to someone beneath her who had no say--that new douchey lieutenant who thought he was hot shit, maybe--but Lexa wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t. Clarke had known that, had told her that, had asked only one thing of her: come home safe.

“Ellie, sweetheart, let’s say our good nights. Mommy has to go to work,” Clarke said gently, rubbing Ellie’s back.

Ellie peeled back her head and looked up at Lexa, big puppy eyes tearing her heart wide open one eye-lashed blink at a time.

“Are you coming back?”

“Oh,” Lexa cooed, brushing back Ellie’s hair, “I always do, don’t I?”

Ellie nodded, then let her head sink back to Lexa’s shoulder and began to thumb at the metal name tag over her breast pocket. Lexa met Clarke’s eyes over Ellie’s head and furrowed in concern.

“She’ll be okay,” Clarke said, voice intentionally chipper, “Right, Elliebean? You’re okay. Let’s give mommy kisses and then get ready for dinner. Grandma and your aunties are coming over soon! Are you excited?”

“Yes,” Ellie murmured, head still tucked firmly in place against Lexa’s neck.

“Alright, then, let’s get our kisses and let mommy go.”

Clarke walked Lexa to the car, their hands clasped until Lexa pulled open the door to her truck and slid in.

“She’ll be okay. It’s just because it’s Christmas Eve. It has her a little thrown off.”

“I hate this,” Lexa sighed, starting up the engine. She leaned her head into Clarke’s breast, her cheek pressed to warm, plush skin where Clarke’s sweater dipped down.

“I know.” Clarke threaded her fingers through Lexa’s hair, gently combing while she held her close.

“You gonna be okay getting the presents under the tree tonight?”

“I’ve got mom and the girls. We’ll be okay.”

“Okay.” Lexa leaned up for a kiss, smiling against Clarke’s lips as she got one, two, and a third for good luck. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll see you soon. Be safe.”

***

Lexa walked into the fire station to a round of laughter in the loft. Sagging out of her coat and bag, she climbed the stairs to the lounge, her chest aching a little with every step at the thought of what she’d just left behind.

“Hey, Cap!”

She gave a nod in greeting, then sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”

“Alonzo’s got cookies in the oven. Tryna’ bring a little cheer around here tonight.”

Alonzo, a large black man with a beautiful smile and sparkling eyes, came around the corner from the kitchen with a tray of still steaming cookies. Lexa smiled at the cheers that erupted, but her heart sat heavy at the reminder of her little girl. All she wanted to do was take care of tonight’s calls, get everyone home safely, and be with her family when the sun rose.

“Evening, Cap. Cookies?” Alonzo crossed to her with the oven pan, looking ridiculous, but charming in his oven mitts and apron slung over his uniform.

“No, no, I’m good, thanks.”

He shrugged and turned to the rest of the crew who were on him like sharks at a feeding.

“You look down, Cap,” Lincoln said from where he sat on the back of the couch, XBox controller in hand.

“Nope. I’m good.”

She stood with her back to the loft railing, watching them play video games, destroy the foosball table, and stuff their face with cookies. There were a lot of new faces thanks to their annual holiday hiring boom. With trees burning down houses every day, tourists inexperienced in winter road conditions sending their car into telephone poles, and storms snowing people in, they needed all the help they could get. Despite the new recruits, the camaraderie filling the fire house was full and boisterous. It made her smile to see them all enjoying themselves, but she couldn’t bring herself to get there with them.

Her gaze flicked across them and landed on the blonde woman in the corner, quietly murmuring into her phone. Alanna was their newest recruit, a driver engineer from LA who’d quickly made a reputation for herself as being calm and competent behind the wheel. Lexa liked her, saw a bit of herself in the young driver, and perhaps kept a closer eye on her than she did some of the other newbies. Alanna was driven, determined, and would make an incredible captain, maybe chief one day, if she kept at it.

Roan joined her on the railing, surveying the group. “You think we’ll have a slow night?”

Lexa drew her gaze away from Alanna and back to the rowdy group settled around the couches. She grinned, not looking at him as she spoke. “On Christmas Eve? Not a chance. You know the all hell breaks loose on holidays.”

“And full moons.”

“Yep.”

“You good?”

“Yeah. Just. You know.” She shrugged and folded her arms across her chest. “Thinking about home.”

“How’d Ellie take it when you left?”

“She was clingy. But she understood.”

“Uh huh. Annie was the same. Christmas makes it hard. You want to be there for all the excitement just as much as they want you to be. How’s the Mrs.?”

The corner of Lexa’s mouth twitched in a smile. “She’s good,” she said, a softness and fondness to her voice that Roan had come to associate only with the people Lexa called family. He considered it a great honor, a privilege, to have that tone directed at him from time to time.

“And the baby?”

She smiled, full and unrestrained this time. “He’s perfect.”

Lexa dug into her pocket for her wallet and pulled out a folded picture. She unfolded it and handed it to him. The sonogram, though the date at the bottom put it at only a week old, was well worn from the constant folding and unfolding. Despite the love, the picture was clear. A little fist rested below a round cheek, sweeping nose and tiny, closed eyes. He looked healthy and strong, and--if Roan dared to say--took after the kid standing next to him. His heart gave a slight lurch at the thought of how far she’d come.

Roan let out a low whistle. “That’s a handsome kid, Lex.”

He handed it back to her and Lexa took it, nodding. She carefully folded it up again and stuck it back into her wallet.

“I think Clarke’s about done being pregnant,” she said with a chuckle, “she’s exhausted.”

“Mm. The small ones have it tough.”

“Don’t let her hear you calling her small. She likes to think she’s big and scary.”

“Wonder where she gets that from.” He shot her a knowing grin as she just shook her head, biting back a smile.

***

Lexa had just finished FaceTiming with Ellie for bedtime when the alarm bell rang through the fire house, signaling a call. She pushed back from her desk and grabbed her coat, navigating the halls and the stairs like a seasoned professional as she rounded people up and got them to the truck.

The bite of the wind tore viciously through flesh, even with the sixty pounds of PPE on their back as the truck weaved through the empty, snowy treats. It was a ghost town. Street lights flickered and lit as best they could, but were dwarfed by the black expanse of the night. Cars left parked on the road sat beneath piles of snow. A few lit store fronts dotted the otherwise grey expanse around them, but not a person stirred as they passed through the usually bustling part of town.

Lexa leaned over and pointed at a road on the navigation screen.

“When you make this turn, I want you to ease up on the brakes.”

“Okay,” Alanna said, eyes on the road. “Why?”

The question was out of a desire to learn, and not out of defiance. It’s what Lexa liked about her--her drive and dedication, her desire to learn, to do her job and do it well.

“We’ll be coming up on McArthur Bridge. It’s going to be a sheet of ice on top. The call pinged off of a cell tower near by and we’ve got arial up there to help locate the incident, but I’m willing to bet it’s on that bridge. People spin out and hit the rails every year. When you make the turn onto it, ease up on the gas, but don’t hit the brakes.”

When they came to it, Alanna did as she was instructed, her breath coming in concentrated puffs of condensed air.

“Easy,” Lexa murmured, her gaze bouncing back and forth from the road ahead to the rearview mirror where she kept an eyes on the back of the long truck, ensuring that it was staying on track. “Easy, easy, there you go.”

The truck made the turn, it’s tires slipping once or twice before gripping again.

“Keep her at a crawl,” Lexa said, voice calm and steady.

The McArthur Bridge, a looming six-thousand foot bridge, stood stately at the edge of town. Cutting across the bay, it was a popular route during the summer, leading out of town towards the cape where people vacationed for the three months of their warm weather. It was a beautiful drive in nice weather. In the winter, it was a death trap.

“Cap, I think...holy shit.”

Alanna pulled the truck to a stop, and looked to her, eyes wide. Lexa sat forward in her seat, peering through the heavy snowfall. About a hundred yards ahead, she could just barely make out the flashing read taillights of a silver car, pitched at an unusual angle above the ground.

“What am I looking at?” She muttered, gesturing for Alanna to ease forward. As they did so, the picture came into focus and Lexa’s blood went colder than the air around her. “Stop,” she ordered, hard and unwavering.

Alanna, unfamiliar with ice and panicked by what she saw, hit the breaks with too much force, sending the rear of the truck whipping around beside them. Alanna turned the wheel hard the other direction, trying to overcorrect before Lexa could worn her not to. The truck axles groaned under the pressure as the cab lurched, and began to tip. Lexa cursed and gripped the handle above her head as the truck went sliding across the ice on two wheels. It scraped and moaned, rattling its occupants around like marbles in a tin box. Lexa forced her eyes to stay open and her breathing to remain calm.

“Oh shit, oh shit, fuck, Captain--” Alanna gasped, desperately trying to regain control of the truck. “It’s gonna flip! It’s gonna flip--”

“Let go of the wheel!” Lexa shouted over the roar of rattling metal. “Get your hands off the wheel!”

Just as Alanna did, the truck crashed to it’s broadside with a sickening slam, torquing the wheel so hard it practically tore off. Had Alanna’s hands been there a second longer, it would have ripped her arms out of the sockets. As the truck groaned to a halt, Lexa undid her seatbelt, and turned herself around, checking on the crew in the back.

“Everyone okay?”

At the collective “Yes, Cap”s, Lexa turned back around and let her head fall to the window.

Alanna turned to look at her, eyes wide and chest heaving.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered from where she sat above Lexa, held in place by her belt.

Lexa peered up at her and offered her a sympathetic smile. “I’ve been through worse.”

At Alanna’s questioning look, Lexa didn’t elaborate. Instead, she hauled herself out of her seat, reached over Alanna, and shoved the driver’s door open, giving them a way out.

When Lexa climbed out of the truck and peered down the bridge, her reasoning for stopping the truck all came back to her. Her brain could barely make sense of what she was seeing. The silver car, pitched at the odd angle, sat perched atop a destroyed retaining wall. It’s nose hung over the side of the bridge, threatening to plunge it into the water below, while the rest of it hung on only by the back tires caught on large pile of ice.

“Holy shit,” Roan muttered, coming up beside her. “Looks like a clogged drainage pipe.”

Lexa stared, heart pounding in her chest. The car tipped back and forth with every gust of the wind, threatening to send it over.

“I want everyone to stay right where they are,” she ordered calmy, her gaze travelling the length of the sheet of ice they stood on to where it connected up with mound of ice holding the car back. One wrong move and it might all crack. “Roan, get the Coast Guard on the phone. Tell them we need a bird here right now.”

As he disappeared, Lexa took one careful step forward and called out. “This is Polis Fire and Resuce, can you hear me?” Lexa shouted over the wind, trying to cut the distance.

“Don’t come any closer!” Came a shout, riddled with sheer terror. “Don’t come any closer, you’ll send me over!”

“M’am, I’m not going to let that happen. I need you to just listen to the sound of my voice and stay calm, can you do that?”

“Don’t come closer!”

“Alright, I’ll stay right here. Is that okay?”

There was a long silence, then a resigned, “Yeah. Okay, yeah.”

“Good. Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I--I think my--my--I can’t feel my legs! Oh god, why can’t I feel my legs?”

“Alright, it’s okay. It’s okay, just stay very still.”

“Is my back broken?! Oh god, is my back--”

The woman inside must have shifted, because Lexa watched in horror as the car began to tilt.

“M’am! M’am do not move! Do not move, keep very still!” She inched closer, heart racing as the car rocked back and forth.

“Help me!” The woman screamed.

“Stop moving! Just stop moving!” Another rock sent Lexa’s stomach into her throat. “M’am! You have to stop moving!”

Lexa held her breath and took several careful, but sure steps forward, eyes tracking the tiny fractures her weight sent racing through the ice.

“What’s your name?” She asked, trying to keep the woman calm. The woman only continued to scream.

“Captain!”

Lexa turned, squinting through the falling snow. She was halfway between the car and her crew now. Roan was barely visible through the sheet of white.

“Incident command is on its way!” He shouted over the sound of the wind.

“What about the bird?”

“Ceiling’s too low!”

Lexa’s heart sank. There was no way they’d be able to get to her from the bridge. It was too unstable, and any equipment that could secure the car would be far too risky bringing out on the ice. She racked her brain for an idea, all the while continuing forward one tiny step at a time.

“M’am?” She asked, close enough to hear the whimpers emanating out of the car now.

“Please help me,” the woman cried, “I don’t want to die.”

“I’m not going to let that happen, I just need you to stay very calm and very still. I’m right here.”

From twenty-five feet away, Lexa could see the woman through the window, her entire body shaking in fear, or perhaps from the sobs the woman could not get under control.

“Please don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. I’m right behind you.”

“Don’t come any closer.”

“I’ve got everything under control, okay? I just need you to trust me.”

She watched the woman nod, quick and terrified. Lexa cringed at the movement, but continued inching forward when the car remained balanced.

“I’m Captain Griffin-Woods. What’s your name?” The woman turned ever so slightly as if trying to get a glimpse of her. “Don’t move,” Lexa reminded her, calm and gentle, “It’s alright, I’ll come to you. You just hang tight.”

“Trisha,” the woman said, her voice shaking as she strained to be heard over the storm. “My name is Trisha.”

***

An hour later, Lexa was as close to the vehicle as she could get without rupturing the large rock of ice keeping the car from going over. She could see Trisha’s profile from where she crouched ten feet away. Her skin was pale and streaked with tears.

“How ya doing, Trisha?”

“So cold,” she chattered, her gaze staring straight ahead at the grey expanse before her.

“I know, just hang in there. We’re gonna get you out of there.”

“Is the helicopter coming?”

“Any minute now this storm will clear up.” It wasn’t a no, but it wasn’t what either of them wanted to hear.

There was a long silence. So long, Lexa worried that Trisha had gone to sleep on her again. She looked back at the commotion of the command center set-up a hundred yards back. She could just barely make out the outline of what had to be the chief in command, watching her with hands on his hips, a steady presence of support where nothing else could be done.

“Trisha?”

“I’m here.”

“I’m going to get you out of there. I just need you to stay with me.”

Trisha had been so still for so long. The car had finally stopped tipping back and forth when the wind direction had changed. Things had been stable, under control. Why Trisha chose to jerk around in her seat at that moment, sending the car ninety degrees in the air, Lexa might never know, but when the car went over, there was only one thing she could think to do.

Lexa dove forward.

***

Clarke sat in bed with her bedside table lamp on. The windows moaned and the house shook with every growl of the wind, but she was warm under the blankets, albeit lonely. She ran her hand over her belly, smiling when she received a gentle kick in greeting.

The clock on the wall above their nightstand read one in the morning. She, Raven, Octavia and her mother had finished putting the present under the tree an hour earlier. While her mother had gone to bed and the girls had put on a Christmas movie in the living room, the volume low enough not to wake Ellie, Clarke had receded upstairs for a hot bath. She had been so cold all night, and it had nothing to do with the storm outside. She missed her wife, worried about her, and her absence chilled so thoroughly she trembled even with the heat on.

It hadn’t always been this bad. Going back to school, starting her residency, and raising Ellie made it hard to think about anything other than what was directly in front of her throughout the day. There were always moments--a lull in work or a quick coffee break--when Lexa passed through her mind and she couldn’t stop thinking about the dangers her wife may be facing. Then, work would come rushing back, some new emergency needed tending to, and Clarke’s mind would once again be too tied up to think of anything else. She’d get home, Lexa would be there waiting for her, or arrive soon after, and they’d do it all again.

It wasn’t until her second trimester with Henry that the anxiety began to creep in. The nightmares were the worst part. She would wake up, chest heaving, slicked in sweat, with images of Lexa’s mangled body still at the fringes of her mind. She would walk into work, find herself suddenly in the morgue and pulling open a drawer that revealed Lexa, cold and blue and lifeless, only to open her eyes and realize she was still in bed. The worst were the ones where she watched helplessly as Lexa burned.

Everyone assured her that nightmares were normal, yet Clarke could never quite shake the pervasive, nagging sense of impending doom. Her mother told her it was the normal stress every mother felt during a new expansion of her family. Her therapist told her it was residual fear from doing her first pregnancy on her own. Her obstetrician told her it was hormone fluctuation. Clarke, however, thought it was a lot simpler. For Clarke, there was only one explanation: Lexa was her world.

They had not been together too terribly long. After the proposal, the wedding came a year later. The news of Henry came a year after that. And yet somehow, Lexa felt like an entire lifetime. Their love had been a raging, white-water river at first--swift, unrelenting and powerful. Then, it was a cool, still lake on a blazing summer day--calm, comforting and revitalizing. The longer Lexa stayed, the deeper she dug into the very fabric of Clarke’s being. She took up residence in dark, unforgotten spaces of Clarke soul, dusting things off, turning on the light, furnishing her with love and kindness, safety and contentment, passion and adoration. Lexa was home, and everytime she walked out the front door of their house, home went with her. Without a home, everything was terrifying.

Clarke crawled out of bed and crossed to the dresser. She dug through a drawer until she found one of Lexa’s old sweatshirt and slipped it over her head. Even with the eight months of growing baby clinging to her stomach and hips, the sweatshirt was roomy on her, accounting for Lexa’s broad shoulders and strong torso. The arms were humorously too long and the collar was worn. It wasn’t meant to flatter, just to remind--to embrace and comfort and keep out the cold. Had it not been Christmas Eve, she may have gone to her daughter’s room, scooped up the tiny, sleeping thing for some magical, healing snuggles as she often did on nights Lexa was out. But as such, she let Ellie sleep, and passed the time with her nose burrowed into the old sweatshirt, closing her eyes at the traces of Lexa’s cologne imbedded into the fabric.

***

Lexa clung to the iron rung below the bridge so hard her forearm burned sharp and hot despite the freezing air around her. With her other hand, she gripped Trisha’s wrist so tightly, she worried briefly about hurting her. Trisha was screaming, Lexa could tell, but it was muffled beneath the sound of her own heartbeat and the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

She looked up at the hand keeping them both from plunging into the water a hundred feet blow, thankful that she had the thick, rubber-palmed gloves on. The tacky surface kept her nearly clued to the icy support bar. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she looked past where Trisha dangled beneath her and watched the car sink slowly beneath the black surface, tail lights still visible even as they became fully submerged.

Her eyes met Trisha’s and she saw shear terror in them. They were wide as they could get, pupils so large her entire eyes were nearly black despite Lexa’s helmet light shining directly into her face. It was that terror that finally snapped Lexa out of her shock. Everything had happened so quickly, she could barely recall any of it. The car had started to go over, she had flung herself inside, and somewhere along the way, she’d yanked Trisha out of the car and caught herself before they followed it into the water. Now, Trisha flailed about, gasping at Lexa in garbled nonsense.

“Hey!” Lexa called down to her, stern, but not unkind. “Trisha, I need you to stop moving.”

Trisha kicked at the air as if she were underwater, trying to fight her way to the surface. Every thrust of her foot sent Lexa swing along with her, straining the grip she had on the bar keeping them alive.

“Trisha, stop moving. Trisha--Trisha!” To no avail, Lexa barked down at her as the woman continued to panic. Had they been in the water, she would have certainly drowned them both by now. Lexa’s shoulder ached at every tug, but Lexa only tightened her fingers around the bar and vowed to hold on. Lucky for them, the bar was narrow and easy to get her entire fist around. Add to the fact that Trisha was a slight woman, maybe one hundred and twenty pounds when wet, Lexa felt relatively okay about her odds of keeping them out of the water.

Nevertheless, each attempt Trisha made at kicking herself back up to the bridge, sent pain rocketing up Lexa’s arm and rattling around the small, frozen bones in her hand like a pinball machine.

“Trischa, I need you to calm down. You’re hurting me.”

“Don’t let me fall!” Trisha screamed, clawing at Lexa’s torgo with her free hand.

“Hey, listen to me. Trisha. Trisha, if you don’t stay still--” Lexa thrust her head back and adjusted her grip on the bar, beginning to question her confidence with every struggle from below her. She dropped her head and stared straight into Trisha’s eyes, boring into her.

“Trisha, god dammit! Do not fucking move another muscle!” She commanded, voice louder, harsher than it had been in a long time.

Trisha instantly stilled.

“Thank you,” Lexa breathed, adjusting her grip once more. “I’m sorry I yelled, but if we’re going to get out of this, I need your attention.”

Trisha swallowed and nodded, eyes fastened to Lexa’s face.

“I want you to grab onto my waistband with your other hand.”

Trisha did as she was told, and Lexa felt a minute relief in the pressure on her grip at having slightly stabilized her load.

“Captain, we’ve got the wench set up, we’re dropping in. Hang tight!” said someone, likely Lincoln, from above her.

“Hang tight? Are you kidding me?” She looked up just as an apologetic face appeared over the side of the bridge.

Lincoln grinned. “Sorry. How ya doing down there?”

“I am not slipping,” she said, widening her eyes towards her fist, then towards Trisha.

Understanding, Lincoln nodded quickly. “Copy that. Almost there.” He shouted something at the people behind him, and Lexa took the time to look down at Trisha and offer her an encouraging smile.

“You were at the store,” Trisha said so quietly, Lexa almost didn’t catch it.

“The store?”

“This morning. At Harrison’s.”

“Oh. Yeah, I was.”

“I rang you up.”

Lexa took in the face staring up at her. It was pale, caked in dirt and a little blood around her hairline, but she was right. She had rung her up. She had given Ellie a complimentary ornament, in fact.

“You did,” Lexa confirmed gently, tightening her grip on Trisha’s wrist when the sound of the mechanized wench grumbled above the howl of the wind. “We’re almost out of here, Trisha. You just keep looking at me, alright? Don’t look down.”

Trisha shook her head and Lexa felt her hand tighten around her waistband. A moment later, Alonzo came over the side of the bridge on a rope, about three feet to the left of them, as Alanna leaned over and monitored his position, giving orders to the winch operator to lower until he was parallel with Lexa.

“Hey, Cap. I’m just gonna get you secured in here and--”

“No. I’m fine. Get Trisha in a harness and get her up.”

“But Cap--”

“Do it.”

Leaving no room to argue, Alonzo looked up at Alanna and nodded for her to instruct the winch operator to lower him once more.

“Alright, Trisha, I need you to grab onto Alonzo. He’s going to secure in and--”

“No, no, no I don’t want to let go. I’m not going to let go,” Trisha gasped, tightening her grip on Lexa. Her legs began to flail again and Lexa cringed at the strain it put on her arm.

“Trisha--don’t--hey, just stop moving. Just calm down.”

“Don’t let me fall!”

“Hey, listen to me,” Lexa huffed, chest heaving in effort. “Do you remember the little girl I came into the store with this morning?”

Trisha nodded.

“Her name is Ellie. She’s five years old and she’s the light of my life. I told her I’d be there to open presents with her in the morning, and I plan on keeping that promise. I’m going home tonight and so are you, do you understand me? I just need you to do everything I say.”

Trisha hesitated, eyes searching Lexa’s face. Then, with more certainty this time, she nodded.

***Lexa pushed through the door as quietly as she could, kicked off her boots and let her jacket fall to the floor. She’d pick it up in the morning when there wasn’t a large bag of ice bandaged to her shoulder. That would be the first thing to go as soon as she got upstairs.

She tiptoed into the bathroom and shed the her clothes, the ice, then donned a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. The clock above the read four in the morning. As carefully as she could, she slipped beneath the covers, grimacing at the shot of pain in her shoulder as she scooted herself into place behind Clarke. Lexa carefully ran her hand up Clarke’s thigh, over her hip, and up her side, smiling at the feel of her old sweatshirt beneath her fingers. Clarke had missed her, it seemed, and Lexa had missed her right back.

In fact, Lexa had not stopped trembling until the moment she had Clarke’s hips tucked into her pelvis and her warm skin beneath her palm. She had come so very close to never seeing them again tonight. Her job always entailed potential for danger, but tonight had hit her hard. Tonight could have been the night Ellie lost one of her mom’s on Christmas eve. The night Clarke lost her wife. The holidays would never be the same for her family, and Lexa ached at the thought of being the cause of that pain. She had made a promise to come home to them every night, and she had come too close to breaking that promise this time. As her team finally pulled them up and over the bridge, as Trisha hugged her and thanked her, as the team drove them to the hospital, and as Lexa lay through an hour-long MRI scan, all she could think about was getting her hands on her girls.

She had kissed Ellie on the way to the bedroom, careful not to wake her, and now she needed her wife. She needed to feel the press of her body against hers, the warmth of her skin and the strength of her heartbeat. Even in sleep, Clarke was so steady and strong and alive. Lexa pressed her face to the back of Clarke’s neck and inhaled her scent. She smelled like an afternoon rain storm, fresh and clean and revitalizing.

She felt Clarke shift beneath her hands, but it wasn’t until Clarke had turned and was kissing her that Lexa drew out of her thoughts. Clarke’s sigh skittered across her face on a puff of warm air, and in an instant, Lexa’s hand were everywhere, caressing and pulling and holding her close. She felt like she was suffocating and Clarke was the oxygen she so desperately needed. Lexa couldn’t get enough of her.

“It’s okay,” Clarke murmured against her lips, “you’re okay.”

“What?” Lexa asked, breathless and distracted. She dove back in for another kiss before Clarke could answer. Clarke slipped her hands beneath Lexa’s shirt and splayed them across Lexa’s back, tugging her close.

“Everything’s okay.”

Lexa nodded against Clarke’s forehead, trying to catch her breath. Something was off, but all she could think to do was press closer, kiss harder, love harder.

“Hey,” Clarke cooed, dropping her hand to the center of Lexa’s chest. She didn’t push, but she held it there and leaned back when Lexa dipped back down.

Lexa frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“You tell me,” Clarke said quietly, a soft hint of laughter to her voice, but her eyes were concerned.

“What?”

Clarke ran her thumb across Lexa’s cheek, and finally Lexa felt it. Tears. All at once, they welled up inside of her and she gasped, choking on the ferocity of the emotions she’d bottled away to get the job done.

“Oh, sweetheart. It’s alright.” Clarke threaded her fingers through Lexa’s hair and gently tugged at the nape of her neck, guiding Lexa’s face to her breast. She held her close as Lexa shook and buried her nose into her collarbones. They didn’t speak for a long while, not until Lexa let out a shuddering sigh and began pressing kisses to Clarke’s throat.

“Are you hurt?” Clarke asked, her voice small and unsure because she had to ask, but she hated to know.

Lexa shook her head and nuzzled at Clarke’s jaw, kissing at the new skin when Clarke lifted her chin.

“Lexa.” Clarke’s voice was breathy from the attention being paid to her, but there was an edge to it, a warning and a reminder that a lie would be worse than whatever it was Lexa had gotten herself into.

“It’s not bad,” she conceded quietly.

“Show me.”

“There’s nothing to show. Just some strains.”

“Lexa.”

“I promise. I had an MRI.”

Clarke tensed in her arms, and Lexa kissed her, urging her away from the anger and the worry.

“Where? What needed an MRI?”

“Everything’s fine.”

“Lexa, I swear to god.”

“I have a mild strains in my shoulder and wrist. I promise, that’s all.”

“Are you in pain?”

“No.”

Clarke arched her brow.

“Okay. A little.”

“Mhm. Did you ice?”

“Yes. There’s a bag currently melting in our bathroom sink.”

Clarke sighed and dropped her forehead to Lexa’s, breathing in the distinct smell lingering on her wife’s skin.

“You smell like winter,” she whispered, and pressed her nose to Lexa’s cheek. She kissed the curve of her jaw, the corner of her mouth.

“It’s cold outside.”

Clarke nodded and folder her lips into Lexa’s, letting their warmth, their indescribable softness chase away the pain and and anger and worry until there was nothing left between them but the hot press of skin and the hushed moans of desperate lovers. Raging against the exhaustion in their bones, they took comfort in each other’s pleasure until fatigue finally won the battle, and pulled them into sleep just as the sun was beginning to rise.

***

Lexa shuffled out of the kitchen, her hair a mess, her eyes squinting in fatigue. She sipped at her third mug of coffee as she waded through layers upon layers of wrapping paper scraps, and sank into the couch next to Clarke.

Ellie sat amongst a pile of toys, shifting her attention from one to another as she gave a running commentary on all of it to the family that sat around her. Lincoln, Octavia and Abby, sat on the floor next to her, while Raven stood by the tree and recorded sporadically from her phone. Anya fiddled with the build-your-own tricycle she had gotten her niece, and Lexa watched it all from her place on the couch, amazed at her incredible life. Tucked into her side, Clarke leaned up and pressed a kiss to her jaw, earning her a sleepy hum.

“Tired?” Clarke asked, smiling as Lexa yawned into her coffee.

Lexa only grinned, refusing to be baited into speaking of the illicit activities they’d taken part in with their family under the same roof.

“When’d you get in, Lex?” Octavia asked, nodding in approval when Ellie thrusted a toy truck for her to inspect. “Lincoln said your last call was crazy. How long were you hanging--”

“Wow, that’s not--it wasn’t crazy, it was totally chill,” Lincoln quickly interrupted, his wide eyes cutting from Octavia to Clarke. Lexa rolled her eyes when Clarke stiffened, and buried her face into Clarke’s hair, resigned to the fact that she’d pay for the reveal later.

“Hanging around,” Octavia amended with a sheepish grin, “I just meant, how long were you hanging around...the fire station?”

“Octavia,” came Lexa’s muffled groan, “please stop talking.”

“Blame Lincoln! He’s got a big mouth.”

“Hey now. I told you you weren’t allowed to bring it up.” He swallowed, realizing how his words sounded, and looked to Clarke like a deer in headlights. “Because...there was nothing to bring up. It was...an easy night?”

Everyone turned to look at Clarke, who simply rolled her eyes and waved them off. “I don’t want to know,” she said, scratching at the nape of Lexa’s neck. “As long as she comes home, I don’t want to know.”

Lexa kissed her head and sat back up, momentarily glaring at the guilty couple on her floor until she was distracted by the small hands pressing into her legs as Ellie made her way onto the couch and into Lexa’s lap.

“Look, mommy,” she squealed, holding up the firefighter doll for what had to be the fifth time that morning. “It’s the one I wanted!”

“I see that! Pretty cool, bean. Did you thank Grandma for getting it for you?”

Ellie twisted around to get a look at her grandmother, and scrambled down Lexa’s legs. She slipped and slid through the wrapping paper scraps until Abby scooped her up and snuggled her close. Lexa watched them murmur to each other, Ellie occasionally bursting into a fit of giggles at something Abby had whispered or the onslaught of tickling fingers at her belly.

Clarke’s head on her shoulder pulled her attention away and she gazed down at her wife.

“You happy?” Clarke murmured, nuzzling close.

“Extremely. Are you?”

“More so than I thought I ever could be.”

Lexa leaned down and kissed her, grinning against her lips when Raven turned her phone on them and said something about lovebirds and no mistletoe and keeping it PG.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Clarke whispered. “Thank you for coming home.”

“Are you kidding?” Lexa asked, pulling away to take in the beautiful home filled to the brim with love and family. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

267 notes · View notes

lokisgame · 5 years

Text

Enchanted Forest [8]

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7]

Water washed down her face and hair, breast and back, rinsing off last remnants of the dream, and leaving her with nothing but scraped raw logic and reason. She read too much last night. All the Faeries, gods and spirits filtered through her subconscious, mixed with fresh memories and emotional unease, and created this vision, a figment of her imagination. She never actually met Mulder before she was assigned to work with him, but Quantico was a big place, with agents coming and going all the time, from all places. BSU, VCS, ISU, Mulder worked with all of them, and there was a good chance they passed each other in the hallway, just as she passed thousands of people, every day over the twenty one weeks in training or even later, when she was teaching. Maybe she wondered about it, or maybe they even discussed it, killing time on some long, boring stakeout. It probably did happen.

The house on the other hand, troubled her more, slipping from memory the harder she tried to hold on. All she had left was the feeling of warmth, not just physical, but emotional. Safety of a place of her own.

Wrapped in a warm bathrobe, with a towel piled on top of her head, she sipped coffee and looked around her brightly lit apartment. All light wood and pale blue, pinstriped furniture, books neatly arranged in a bookshelf; this was her home, spacious and comfortable. Yet the feeling of arms around her and the warmth of fire in the hearth, stirred something inside her, that she didn't quite understand. She was happy with her freedom and life in general, was she not?Mulder's words echoed in her head, as if whispered in the darkness.

Dreams are answers to questions we haven't found out how to ask yet.

Waving off the thought, she dressed and locked the doors, thankful, that it was finally Friday.

She was about to take a sip of coffee, when Mulder came in, looking considerably better. Only evidence of his illness was the rare addition of a green scarf to his smile and the usual dark coat, dark suit, bad tie ensemble. "Hi." She said over the mug. "Hi yourself." He crossed the room in four long strides and rounded the desk, presenting her with a paper cup. "What's this?" "Triple, venti, half sweet, non-fat, caramel macchiato." She was smiling before he reached the half-sweet part. "You noticed." Mulder grinned and reached into his coat pocket, producing a small paper bag with a flourish, "and, a cookie." Scully laughed, popping the lid on her drink. "Keep it." "Thanks." It was what she always ordered, when felt like treating herself, including the chocolate chip cookie she got for Mulder. "How are you doing?" "Only slightly used," he said, going back to hang up his coat, "thanks for the soup." "You're welcome." "I owe you lunch," he added, taking her usual chair and accepting the coffee she didn't need anymore. "Coffee's fine." Scully watched him break the cookie in half, so they could share it, also part of the ritual. "What did you mean by Yule, yesterday I didn't have a chance to ask." "Some believe," he explained, reaching out and letting her pick the piece she liked, "that on the night that Christians celebrate as Christmas Eve, Anglo-Saxon and Germanic peoples used to celebrate Mother's Night or Mōdraniht." "An event dedicated to female deities, usually appearing in trios," she said, cookie half way to her mouth, filling in the gaps for him, "like Matres and Matronae." "Or like victims in our case. A pattern appearing often in many religions, not only in Europe, but here I'd focus mostly on the Scandinavian Norns, goddesses of fate." "Wyrd, Verdandi and Skuld, past, present and future." "Exactly," wiping crumbs with the side of his hand, he took a sip of coffee, before continuing. "Some believe, that sacrifices might have occurred during the event, possibly currying favour." "And you think that the dead body was part of some ritual?" Mulder shrugged, noncommittal. They both knew the statistics on murder and the occult. "If you know of any Wicca practitioners that suddenly became vampires, I'm all ears." Scully snorted and bit into the cookie, keeping the dream to herself. "Anyway, these are just loose theories, and since they found only one body this year and that suicide note." "We might have another year, before any new evidence shows up." "Not that I would wish that on anyone, but I guess, yeah." He washed down the rest of the cookie with coffee and smiled. "So, you did anything interesting last night?" "Nothing special," she said, but grinned suddenly, holding up one finger. "What?" Mulder watched her disappear into the backroom for a second, just to come back with another plastic box. "I was going to bring this to you later, but you're here, so." He took the box and opened it, smelling cinnamon and vanilla crust, apple pie. "My mom says hi." Without thinking twice, he drew her closer, sneaking one arm around her waist. "Thanks," he said softly and rested his cheek against her blazer. Scully stroked his hair, as the seconds stretched longer and longer, each one more comfortable than the last. She was growing used to his touch, shape and feeling of his arms. Something was shifting inside her, tipping scales of her inner balance, just a little off to where ever Mulder was. Combing fingers through his hair one last time, she realised they felt soft and silky smooth, exactly like her dream fox's fur.

Having Mulder close, helped Scully focus a little more easily. He sniffled his way through the day with just an occasional cough shaking the office, as he sat by the desk going through books, just as she had the day before. Lunch hour came and went, lost among clicking of keyboards and rustle of pages. Finishing the case report and wrapping some overdue ones as well, Scully felt like she did an honest day's work, and was about to put away a few case files in the cabinet, when Mulder came in, unexpectedly. She never noticed him leave. "Did you know it's snowing again?" He said, combing fingers through damp hair. Looking up, she saw fine, white dust gathering in the corners of the skylights, where wind couldn't blow it out. Mulder pushed a salad it into her hands. "This isn't the lunch I promised, but let's take a break." "Thanks." Scully smiled and took a seat on her side of the desk. "You okay?" She asked, above the crackling of plastic. "Better." Mulder unwrapped his sandwich and bit into it, the scent of bacon hit her from five feet away. "You should eat more vegetables, you know," she admonished. "I see lettuce and tomatoes here," he mumbled, glancing at the sandwich, "those are still vegetables, right?" "You know what I mean." Scully sighed, but his witty reply was cut off by a chirping cellphone. Holding up one finger, he answered the call. "Mulder." Grunting affirmatives, he listened for a moment then scribbled a few words on a post-it. Cryptic, monosyllabic conversations weren't unusual, but something didn't sit right with Scully this time, telling her to add a new item to the list of possible unidentified callers. But he was sick, he shouldn't be working, that would be… "Okay, I'll be there." He finished and hung up, folding the post-it and putting it away with the phone, before going back to his late lunch. Halfway from another bite, he noticed her staring. "What?" "Nothing," Scully looked away, suddenly very interested in proper distribution of low fat dressing, "nothing." "Poker night with the Gunmen," Mulder said casually. Nodding, but unable to force herself to look up, awkwardness welled inside her against all reason. Irrational fears were just that, irrational, but why did she feel like he wasn't perfectly honest this time?

Large tub of ice cream landed in her cart when she did her customary Friday night grocery run. Some said that diamonds were a girl's best friends, but since she was on a mere g-woman's salary, she had to make do with second best. Who said she didn't love herself. She even planned to rent The Exorcist, to make the night perfectly perfect. Mulder had plans and so did she. Her only dilemma was, should she take a bath before or after the movie. She took a good few minutes at the store, trying to decide between another batch of good, old, lavender-vanilla and neroli-bergamot. Something about that sweet, citrus fragrance made her smile and she told herself not to think too much. Not about the bath, the ice cream or the movie, or the fact that she was going home to an empty house, on a snowy Friday evening, when even Mulder had plans. Plans, she wasn't at all suspicious about, plans that involved him, three guys and a deck of cards; probably some tacos as well. All the onions and chilli peppers, she felt beginnings of heartburn just thinking about them. The chilli peppers, not the men. He couldn't be working that other job of his, not with a cold, that would be unsanitary, and unprofessional, and unsexy. Mulder sneezing at someone's… The image made her giggle, and earned her a curious stare from the woman waiting in front of her in the checkout line. No, definitely shouldn't think about Mulder and other women, even like that.

The movie didn't hold her interest, not as it used to anyway. She even turned the volume down low, all the screaming and chanting starting to get on her nerves. The ice cream came and went, while a forgotten bottle of wine she found in the fridge, kept calling her name. White, semi-sweet, light as a feather. Since it was a thank you gift from a neighbour, who's kid got sick and she just happened to be home that evening, she was saving it for some nice dinner occasion. But the longer she thought about it, the more she realised, that she didn't really see that nice dinner happening. Her mother visited rarely, Missy even rarer, actually, when she saw her family, it was at her mother's. Friends moved on, disappearing in the loving arms of families of their own, while she kept working and traveling. Even Mulder, found a way to spice up his life, break out of the routine. It was her, who stayed behind. Was she really the boring one? No, she was most definitely not. She opened the bottle and ran the bath.

Much better. Scully thought, letting the warm water take her in, a glass of wine dangling from her hand in soft candlelight. This felt good, simple and warm, and the wine was indeed divine. She savoured the crispness and breathed in the sweet scent of bath salts, letting her head fall back and her mind wander aimlessly. Surrounded by calm, memories began to float around her head. First came the weight, of his arm around her, then of him in her arms. He didn't try any tricks or dirty moves, utterly undemanding, even when he asked her to lie down beside him, he asked for nothing but the warmth of her body. For all the years of flirting, when it came to the real deal, he was disarmingly honest, blurring the lines just enough to get what he needed, and if she told him no, he would respect that. Not that she would, when he was shivering and looking at her with those eyes, and giving her that cute pout. Mulder was strong, intelligent and capable, but when the lights were out, when they were alone, he was a dreamer, a romantic, chasing romantic ideas no matter how far they would take him. She admired it, respected it, stopped it if she had too, but most of all, she loved it. As aggravating and dangerous it might be, Mulder was a challenge and she loved that about him. But how could she miss that whole other job of his? Why didn't he tell her earlier, apart from the obvious. He said he liked it, that the women cared about him, but why didn't he come to her. Didn't she care enough? She risked her life for him more times that she could count, without even stopping to think about it, but still, he searched for solace in somebody else's arms. What if this was his way to cope, to unwind? What if he was doing it tonight? What if the poker night was just a front, a code, to keep the secret from her all along. The phone stared at her from a shelf above the tub, brought in case someone called. Scully picked it up and stared back, at the keys. She knew the number by heart, didn't even need Mulder's perfect recall for it, and on an impulse, dialled. The phone rang, two, three times… "Lone Gunman," Frohike answered, sounding businesslike as usual. "Hi," she said, realising she was in a tub, naked. "It's Scully, could you turn off the recorder?" "Why hello, Agent Scully," his tone turned into something that supposed to fall under alluring, but could only be considered endearingly embarrassing. "Done as per your request, what else can I do for you?" Uncontrollable urge to cover herself up made her sit up, but she did it very slowly, afraid the sloshing water might give the game up. "Ummm," her cheeks burned. What has come over me? "Is Mulder there?"

On the other side of town, Frohike sighed and poked Mulder's shoulder with a wooden spoon. "It's for you," he said, waiting for him to swallow the bite of taco he just started. "The good doctor." Mulder licked his fingers from the last of salsa and took the phone. "Hey Scully, what's up?" "Hi," she said, voice faltering slightly, "how are you doing?" "Me? I'm fine," he smiled, popping a piece of green pepper into his mouth, "maybe five bucks behind, but I'll get that right back," he had to speak over the boo's and howls of the guys. "Why?" "It's nothing, just checking." "Are you okay, Scully? You didn't catch my cold, did you?" That silenced the Gunmen and good. Mulder could almost swear, he heard water sloshing on her end of the line. "No, no," she said, still a bit odd, "I'm fine." "Okay," he chuckled, definitely water sloshing. "I'm sorry for bothering you, have fun." "Thanks, and just so you know, you never bother me." That at least got a small laugh, she was acting kind of weird tonight. "Okay, goodnight." "Goodnight Scully." He hung up and went back to his food, grinning, under three pairs of curious eyes. Byers piped up first. "Why would Scully catch your cold?" "Not why, how." Langly corrected, when Mulder refused to look up. "You know I don't talk about that stuff." He said quietly. Collective howl shook the entire house that gave The Lone Gunman its' headquarters.

#enchanted forest #x files fanfic #msr fanfic

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