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“How about this one?”
Her mother’s voice broke through her reverie and Clarke tore her eyes away from the video she had been watching on her phone, only for her mouth to gape open. Abby had exited the dressing room in a short, off-white, sleeveless and body moulding satin dress. “Mom, don’t get me wrong, that dress looks amazing on you…but you’re not getting married in Vegas and that one will give Gee-gaw a heart attack.”
Her mom shrugged. “Good.” She retorted flippantly.
“Mom!” Clarke whispered, scandalized. Her paternal grandmother could be extremely trying, she knew that well from twenty-one years of growing up with the woman. But it was a new thing to hear Abby give her opinion on her mother-in-law so freely when Clarke was in earshot. One of the perks of getting old enough to become friends with your mother, she surmised. She just wished it didn’t come with mentions of marijuana usage and her mother’s sex life.
“I’ve swallowed my tongue too frequently over the past two and-a-half decades with that woman. I’m entitled to shock her a little.” Abby declared.
The Griffins were a fairly well-to-do Maryland family that had raised their collective eyebrows at Abby Conlin when their Jake brought her to meet them, even if they could tolerate her middle-class southern roots. Which was why Clarke’s visits to Georgia often consisted of what she felt was reprogramming to soften her ‘Yankee upbringing’. She didn’t envy Abby having to navigate the two spheres. Even though it had been years since Clarke’s father had passed away, the Griffins remained close to Abby and Clarke. In a way, she was grateful to her soon-to-be stepfather, whose mother was a wiccan who owned a sex shop.
“Well, if you think you can deal with the Families giving you their unsolicited opinion on your dress choice, by all means buy it, you rebel you.” Clarke teased her. Abby shot her an unamused look over her shoulder as she tugged at the bodice of the dress and examined her figure from all sides of the mirror. Clarke tried not to feel too envious of how absolutely fit her mother was at the age of fifty. Meanwhile, Clarke had inherited the more curvaceous frame that was common on the Griffin side of her family tree. No matter how many times she was dragged to the gym by Raven and Octavia, she was too fundamentally lazy to do more than the group exercise classes.
Oh my god, I have a Hot Mom. The thought brought her to a standstill. Ew, I bet some of my guy friends call her a MILF. Clarke gagged at the thought and shook it off, moving to stand behind Abby. “Well, Gee-gaw did get judgemental about the quality of your table linens two Thanksgivings ago, so maybe this is the best time to give her something to get scandalized about.”
Abby snorted and spun around to face her. From the smug tilt of her mouth and the twinkle in her dark eyes, Clarke had the sinking feeling that Abby was about to ruin her fun. “Speaking of, your Aunt Kristin called me the other day and asked if you had RSVP’d yet, because she needs to know who your ‘plus one’ is for quote, table placement purposes, unquote.”
A whining sound came out of her throat and Clarke stomped her feet. “Oh, god. Why couldn’t you and Marcus elope? Then I wouldn’t have to put up with fifty people asking me why I wasn’t dating a nice young man and don’t I think I ought to get serious if I want to have my babies while I’m in my prime.” She mimicked them.
This was the reason why she barely used Facebook those days—between the guilt trip she’d get if she didn’t accept her family members’ friend requests and seeing their classist, vaguely racist, and homophobic messages—it just wasn’t worth being able to stalk her old high school crushes.
Her mom clasped her shoulders and gave her this pout that Clarke knew was anything but genuine. She was having way too much fun at Clarke’s expense now. “Well, your Mimsy did catch up to the technological age last Christmas when she bought you a year’s membership for that online dating site. Maybe now is a good time to give her something to be scandalized about.”
Clarke just scowled at her.
“What the fuck am I going to do?” She spat out a hour later, sprawled on her back across Octavia’s bed. Her roommates rolled their eyes at her, making Clarke feel like they weren’t exactly understanding the magnitude of the problem. But then again, neither Raven nor Octavia had the kind of extended family Clarke did.
Raven, as always, was quick to find an obvious solution. “Bring a date.” She shrugged as she continued punching at her phone with her thumbs. Probably telling Finn all about Clarke’s family drama.
“A very female date.” Octavia clarified, wriggling her eyebrows. It shouldn’t be that salacious a proposition and it normally wouldn’t be. Clarke doesn’t exactly hide the fact that she was bisexual. She’s very out in most areas of her life, and Abby certainly knew and accepted it. But the last time Clarke had brought a girlfriend to a family function, her mother’s side of the family had ignored the very blatant way her and Harper had held hands, pointedly asking each girl whether they had a boyfriend yet.
Gal pals, my ass. Clarke mocked in her head. Raising herself up onto her elbows, Clarke arched an eyebrow. “In case you haven’t been paying attention, I don’t have anything resembling a girlfriend or even a boyfriend at the moment. And unless one of you is willing to let me stick my tongue down your throat…” She let the thought trail off.
“God, you’re such a drama queen. I get enough of that from my brother.” Octavia shook her head and pulled her laptop off the desk. “You still have that dating profile your other grandma got for you, right? We’ll just use that to advertise for a fake girlfriend. Leave it to us.”
Clarke sighed. Let Raven and Octavia fill out a profile for her? Why did the very thought terrify her? But then again, they were her best friends and knew her very well. Maybe it was time she trusted them to help her out.
“No, no, O. Put ‘Desperately Seeking the Girlfriend Experience’ as the headline. You want to be as up front as possible.” Raven corrected Octavia as the latter sighed and typed. Clarke groaned and dropped her head back on the pillow, staring upside-down at the Runaways poster Octavia had over her headboard.
I am so screwed.
Clarke decided that there was no way her romantic life, or the lack of a real one thereof, wouldn’t be a small scandal at the wedding, so she purposefully didn’t ask Raven and O for updates. She did briefly contemplate taking the more well-behaved road and asking Finn to play doting boyfriend for a few hours that weekend. But she knew he’d begun dating someone and she didn’t want to cause friction between the new couple.
Life had gotten busy for her. She was in her junior year of college, taking eighteen credit hours on top of working as a receptionist for a women’s health clinic, it was easy to make herself forget about the prospect of seeing her entire family soon. At least, it almost was. Aunt Kristin had called her up the weekend before the wedding, digging for more information on Clarke’s vague ‘plus one’ situation. Her aunt was a Harvard-educated woman who had her own personal shopper business that catered to the elite of New England, but she had inherited her mother’s very traditional views on relationships. Clarke had decided to bite the bullet and tell her. “I’m bringing my girlfriend.”
Amongst other things, she got treated to the following comments:
“Oh sweetie, the single men at the wedding won’t be inclined to approach you if you have a friend hovering next to you. Worse, they might be more interested in her instead of you!” Because weddings were apparently meat markets.
And when Clarke clarified she meant the romantic kind of girlfriend, there was a long silence, then a sigh. “Well, I suppose this is a phase girls your age go through nowadays.”
After she finally hung up on her aunt, Clarke marched herself to Raven’s open door and declared to her two friends: “Okay, I’m officially out of fucks to give. Do your worst.”
‘Do your worst’ apparently translated to ‘don’t tell Clarke anything about her date until the day of the wedding’. Which, while nerve-wracking, was a blessing because Clarke had been really busy at work. Besides, it was all fake anyways. She was going to enjoy watching her mom get married to a man who made her happy, cry a lot and get drunk, and take a stand against her biphobic (or just homophobic) family. Best time for it, right?
Abby and Marcus weren’t doing the traditional kind of ceremony, so Clarke didn’t need to be an official bridesmaid which gave her more control over her outfit. She’d chosen an off-shoulder pink dress that was just short enough to show off her legs. Well, short enough to make the Southern Belle half of her family make tutting noises. Octavia and Raven had insisted on waiting in the living room with her for her date to arrive. Her date, whose name she still did not know for some unfathomable reason.
“I’m just saying, it would be nice to open the door and say hello personally. I don’t see why you’re refusing to tell me her name; it just makes a mountain out of a molehi—for god’s sake Octavia, I don’t need all those tissues in my purse!” Clarke batted ineffectually at Octavia’s hands as they reached into her handbag.
“You get stupidly sappy when you drink champagne, Clarke. It’s almost as bad as whenever Raven watches Selena.”
“Bitch, don’t you dare bring Selenas into it—“ Raven started, stabbing her finger warningly into the air.
A knock came at the door and Octavia clapped gleefully. “She’s here! Oh my god, Raven, you have to record this on your phone—“
“Don’t you dare!” Clarke hissed as she made her way to the door. Wrong move; telling Raven or Octavia not to do something was the number one way to make sure they did do the thing. Raven was already hitting the buttons on her phone and holding it up. Clarke sighed and swung the door open.
Her eyes widened.
It was Lexa. As in Lexa Of The Woods, Clarke’s favorite cooking blog slash tv show. The one she checked every day, at least once, and did things like bite her lip and sigh as she ogled the chef herself. And god, she looked even more gorgeous in person, curly hair artfully coiffed and a tasteful black jumpsuit which showed off the tribal-style tattoo on her right bicep. She looked so serious and earnest.
“Hello, Clarke?”
“Eep!” She croaked before slamming the door shut in Lexa’s face.
“What the fuck, Clarke?” Raven burst out, yelling at her from behind her phone, which was still being held up to record. Clarke stared at her friends incredulously.
“What do you mean ‘what the fuck Clarke’? What the fuck, Raven? That’s Lexa! Lexa.”
Raven rolled her eyes as if that was the most obvious thing ever. “Yeah, and? Do you think we somehow haven’t noticed you obsessing over her blog or probably accounting for seventy percent of her video views? Or the fact that you’re using that picture of her in the crop top and short shorts, foraging through the woods for magic mushrooms, as your phone screen’s background?” She drawled.
Octavia stood there with her arms crossed and lips pursed. “Seriously, Clarke. We recognized her picture when she messaged us and it was like serendipity. So we, being the most amazing friends in existence, told Lexa all about how wonderful you were in the hopes that maybe you could hit that and be a little less pathetic. And you just slammed the door in her face.” Her words took a moment to sink in and Clarke clapped her hands over her mouth.
“Oh my god, I just slammed the door in Lexa’s face!” She moaned. Flinging it open, she saw nobody standing there and ran down the hall, her three-inch heels pounding on the thinly carpeted floor, in a rush to catch up to the woman.
Lexa was a deeply prideful person, and unforgiving of even the smallest slights as a rule of thumb. Her uncle Gustus had frequently told her that sometimes she would have to ‘turn the other cheek’ or ‘swallow her pride’. Lexa had just glowered at him and refused to heed that advice, sometimes to her own detriment.
This had been a huge step for her. Her sous chef and somewhat friend, Krit, had been witness to one of the rare moments when she was properly drunk (vodka or go home) and she had confessed how lonely she felt and that perhaps she wanted to start dating again. He wasn’t one for words, but he’d nodded sagely and uttered the horrifying phrase ‘online dating’.
After a few more weekends of watching couples canoodling in restaurants while she ate and critiqued her dishes alone, Lexa had given in and started researching the myriad of dating websites. Clarke’s profile had caught her attention, mostly because it had the completely ridiculous byline ‘Desperately Seeking the Girlfriend Experience’. Her ‘about me’ had the disclaimer that it was being filled out by her best friends in the hopes of finding Clarke (well, GriffindorQueen94) a hot date to a family wedding.
Lexa had found herself smiling and chuckling at the things her friends had been so forthcoming about in regards to Clarke. She wasn’t the demonstrative type, but maybe she was willing to play the game for the sake of having…well…fun. So she’d messaged Clarke’s friends and made the necessary arrangements to be free that night for the wedding and reception afterwards. She’d primped. She’d done her makeup and bought a new outfit. She’d ditched the eyeliner and done one or two other unmentionable things that would probably not even be necessary since this was a first and maybe only date.
All for naught, because the woman herself had slammed the door in her face. Well, there was nothing Clarke could possibly say that would make Lexa give her a second chance. Lexa was already stalking out the front door of the apartment building and making her way towards the sidewalk, her body tense with anger and her purse bouncing against her hip in violent harmony with her stride. She heard the thunder of heels behind her as Clarke sprinted around until she was in front of Lexa.
Her pink lip gloss shone in the late afternoon sunlight; her lips already moving with excuses. “Wait! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to slam the door in your face. It’s just that you weren’t what I was expecting—“ She saw right away that had been the wrong thing to say. Lexa’s eyes widened and her jaw clenched, nostrils flaring.
“Yes, I feel so flattered already.” Lexa intoned sarcastically before starting to step around Clarke.
“I watch your show all the time!” She burst out, holding her hands palms out to keep Lexa from advancing any further. “That’s why you startled me, I wasn’t expecting to recognize you and my friends—they’re the ones who filled out the online profile for me—they didn’t tell me it was you because they’re the worst friends ever.” She babbled. To her credit, Clarke did look genuinely upset about the way she’d reacted.
Lexa hadn’t meant to become a food vlogger. She’d been slaving away at a philosophy and political science double major when she’d started critiquing restaurant dishes online and offering up her own fixes, with a particular emphasis on local foraging. She’d practically grown up in the woods, so it was an area she had expertise in. And then somehow she’d become famous enough to be able to film an online cooking show. It paid the bills now, so she had stuck with it.
And Clarke seemed to be a fan of her vlog. Lexa wasn’t used to having fans giving her such appreciative—and slow—once overs like Clarke was doing right that minute. Well. It was only one night, and Clarke looked rather lovely in that pink dress. This would be a nice exercise in opening herself up to new experiences. Much more pleasurable than being forced to go mountain biking with Anya. Oh, Clarke was still talking.
“—and I would really love it if you still wanted to be my date and I swear I won’t be creepy or weird…” This is not real, this is not real…
“Fine.” Clarke stopped mid-sentence, staring at Lexa warily.
“Fine?”
“I did get all dressed up, after all. If you can promise you won’t slam any more doors in my face, I think we can get through the night.” She told her sardonically. Clarke pursed her lips and gave Lexa a look that said she was not amused.
“Mock me all you want, I think you’ll find that I can be the best fake girlfriend you could ever want.”
“I thought I was the one who was supposed to be the fake girlfriend?” Lexa retorted, turning to follow Clarke back up to her apartment. She almost regrets her decision when she walks uncertainly through the door and sees one of Clarke’s roommates filming the whole thing.
“And we see the female in heat has been successful in luring a prospective mate back to her lair.” She intoned while the other brunette was practically bent over in stitches. Clarke stalked up to her friend and yanked the phone out of her hand.
“Raven, I can’t believe you! Can you two please behave for a few minutes?” Turning to Lexa, Clarke made an apologetic moue. “I’m so sorry about them. It’ll just be a minute for me to grab my things and we can head up to the venue.”
“I’ll live.” She said, aware that the other two were eyeing her with twin smirks of triumph.
Clarke was so desperate to have a date for the wedding, she hadn’t given much thought to how fucking awkward it would be to spend an hour in the car alone with a stranger. At least Lexa hadn’t made a comment about the Spice Girls cd that had started up as soon as Clarke had turned the key in the ignition.
Clarke agreed to drive the both of them to the bed and breakfast that Vera Kane, her soon-to-be new grandma owned. Twenty minutes into the drive, Clarke got tired of the tense silence. “We should probably get our stories straight. My family can be nosy sometimes.”
“So I gathered from your friends.” The comment is without heat, so Clarke’s hackles don’t rise.
“Yes, well…the best way to keep our stories straight would be to not stray too far from the truth.” She stated, turning the music down a few notches. She caught Lexa giving her raised eyebrows out the corner of her eye.
“Have you done something like this before?”
“No, I just watched a lot of Leverage.” What’s the point of a Netflix subscription if you don’t learn how to commit perfect crimes?
“Ah.”
Clarke racked her brain for a believable background for the two of them. “So, maybe I saw you at Starbuck’s and recognized you. I got up the courage to approach you and we talked for hours, hitting it off…”
“I don’t go to Starbucks.” It took heroic effort for Clarke to not slam on the brakes right then.
“That’s not the point. We’re coming up with a story.”
“But you said to keep the details close to the truth. I don’t go to Starbucks, it’s too much of a stretch to lie about that.” Lexa insisted, sounding so irritatingly rational.
“Fine.” Clarke said. “Where do you usually go for coffee?”
“I don’t drink coffee.” Clarke did nearly veer into the other lane then.
She stared askance at Lexa. “Don’t tell anyone that. I love coffee, I think it’s a deal-breaker for me. Which bakery-café do you frequent?”
Lexa huffed. “Are your relatives really going to ask about these kinds of details?”
“Favorite color?”
“Purple. Yours?”
“Blue.”
“Favorite foods?”
“Heh.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just that of course you’d ask that. Being a food vlogger and all. Anyways. I love food. Bacon! Anything with bacon. Or avocados. I went to New Orleans once and it was practically a never-ending foodgasm.”
They’re nearly there when Clarke fell silent. They’d settled on Clarke leaving messages on Lexa’s vlogs and Lexa becoming interested in getting to know her. Clarke had to admit it was a sensible story; much better than her ‘we met at a grocery store when our hands touched reaching for the same grapefruit.’ “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you agree to do something like this?”
Lexa sighed, turning to stare out the window even though she didn’t have sunglasses on the light had to be hurting her. “My friends have been adamant that I dip my toes back into the dating scene, so to speak. And honestly, when I saw your profile, I thought it would be easier to deal with something that was already fake up front. “
“Oh.” That didn’t hurt—it was the truth, after all. And Clarke could understand. Lexa turned a fraction and Clarke saw the pursed smile that highlighted her cheekbones.
“Also, I rather liked the way your friends described you.”
Maybe she should have taken a peek at the profile Raven and Octavia had made for her.
The bed and breakfast was lovely, surrounded by woods, and Lexa could spy the trellis and seats in the back intended for the ceremony. Going to a wedding where she hardly knew anybody wasn’t exactly her idea of a fun time, and she could only hope she’d get to talk to Clarke some more. Lexa could admit she was interested in spending more time with Clarke. She was much more earnest and serious in person than Lexa had been led to believe, which only seemed to increase her appeal. Especially when she used some of that biting sarcasm of hers, or when Lexa saw hints of Clarke’s ability to slough off the responsibilities and have fun.
Like now.
“Just one more shot and I’ll be good for the next hour,” She’s trying to convince Lexa right before she knocked back another shot of straight vodka. Gasping from the burn, she made a face and hissed. “Ah! That’s the good stuff. Trust me, if you had to deal with my family, you’d be alco-loading.”
Lexa wasn’t good at being spontaneous and having fun. Fun had to be scheduled in her digital planner. These thoughts just brought back memories of the things people had said about her. That even the one person she’d loved most had said about her. What the hell? “I’ll have two shots as well,” Lexa told the bartender who was happy to comply.
Clarke gave her an approving grin before grabbing her hand. “Come on, let’s go introduce you to my mom. She knows I found a date online—we’re both kinda determined to scandalize our family today.” She explained. Lexa felt warmth spreading through her limbs. Probably from the alcohol.
Abby Griffin doesn’t particularly resemble her daughter, Lexa found. But she saw similarities in their mannerisms and subtly rebellious personalities. Mother, like daughter, was preparing herself with a glass of champagne. Lexa couldn’t help smiling at the way Clarke embraced her mother, the two of them with teary grins face to face, while Abby brushed her hand over Clarke’s hair. There was a deep pang of envy, but it washed away when Abby turned to her and held out her hand.
“So you’re the one who signed up for a fun night of passive-aggressive family drama? I’m Abby.” Lexa reached out and shook Abby’s hand firmly.
“Well, I’m a stranger, this is probably more entertaining to me than to you. I’m Lexa Heidlin.” Abby’s mouth opened and closed as recognition dawned.
“As in Lexa In The Woo—“
“Yes, mom! That’s her!” Clarke jumped in, obviously eager to change the subject. Lexa couldn’t help the smirk on her face. Raven and Octavia hadn’t been kidding when they’d said Clarke was a fan. Even her mother knew about it. “Anyways, I love you and I’m glad you’re happy with Marcus. Knock them dead, Mom.” Another teary round of kisses and then Clarke was telling her mother goodbye before the ceremony.
“I’m sorry I’m being so weepy, I can’t help being emotional.” She laughed as she fanned her eyes.
“You don’t have to apologize for being happy, Clarke.”
And Lexa really meant it.
Nothing much happened during the ceremony itself. The guests had arrived in their wedding finery and taken their seats, chattering quietly with other family members they recognized. Then, just as the sun was sinking behind the trees, Abby walked out looking utterly radiant and her groom looked like he was going to cry right there. Lexa wasn’t a sentimental person, but she had to admit that this wedding was making her think about all the things she wanted to have for herself someday.
A sniffle sounded beside her. Lexa turned her head slowly, already fearing what she would find. Yep. Clarke was getting emotional: her eyes were tearing up and she was dabbing at them with her fingers in a way that told Lexa she might not be wearing waterproof mascara. Amateur. Her mouth was wavering between a wide smile and an involuntary frown that came with the urge to cry.
Oh, right. She was supposed to be a supportive girlfriend. Lexa scooted closer and curled an arm around Clarke’s back. Ignoring the disapproving huff behind her, she rubbed at Clarke’s upper arm comfortingly. This close, she could smell Clarke’s perfume; she smelled like bergamot, perhaps jasmine. Lexa didn’t want to let go.
After the ‘I Do’s had been exchanged, it was time to head around the side of the house for the tent set up for the reception. Lexa understood what that meant for her: showtime. She curved an arm around Clarke’s waist and saw her nervously tuck a curl behind her ear. “Don’t show any weakness,” she told her lowly and was rewarded with a small snort from Clarke.
“Yes, ma’am.”
They get in line at the food tables and that’s how Lexa meets Clarke’s aunt. Lexa was frowning as she tried not to criticize the spread because, after all, it really wasn’t her place. She noticed Clarke piling quite a bit of sushi rolls onto hers and deduced that the mismatched offerings were really just for the sake of pleasing the two families. “Oh god, they even provided wasabi,” Clarke moaned happily as she plopped a sizeable spoonful of the green paste next to the rolls.
“Clarke! I hope you and your friend enjoyed the ceremony! I suppose your mother’s entitled to be so…nontraditonal…since it’s her second marriage. But you’re looking so lovely, honey!” The blonde woman resembled Clarke more strongly than Abby, and Lexa deduced that this was the infamous Aunt Kristin on Clarke’s father’s side. Lexa sensed Clarke tensing up at the subtle dig at her mother.
“Well, mom’s got an amazing body, I think she picked the perfect dress to show it off.” Clarke said with a faux sincere tone. “Oh! You haven’t met my girlfriend, Lexa, have you? Well, Aunt Kristin, this is the love of my life, Lexa. Lexa, this is my aunt Kristin.” Lexa smiled at the woman and, balancing her plate in one hand, she reached out to cup Clarke’s jaw. Play the part, Lexa, you’re supposed to be her girlfriend.
“Don’t weddings just make you think about having one of your own, babe?” Lexa asked Clarke, leaning in. Fortunately, Clarke was quick on the uptake and leaned in as well, eyes uncertain. Lexa scrunched up her nose and bopped it alongside Clarke’s in an Eskimo kiss.
“Aww, Button!” Clarke rubbed a thumb across Lexa’s cheekbone. Lexa tried not to flush at the nickname; she usually hated nicknames but this one was strangely gratifying.
Aunt Kristin was visibly discomfited and her eyes were darting around uneasily. “Okay, okay! Let’s not go overboard with the PDA. I can’t wait for this rebellious stage of yours to be over. Just, please behave in front of your grandmother. You know her heart isn’t good.” Lexa raised an eyebrow, staring beyond Aunt Kristin's shoulder at where one of Clarke's cousins was practically humping her boyfriend on the dance floor.
"Wouldn't dream of it!" Clarke trilled.
They sat down at one of the relatively empty tables and soon enough they were distracted by the arrival of the newlyweds, beaming from ear to ear and making the rounds. Clarke noticed her making a face at her bite of coleslaw. Honestly, it was 2015 why were they still putting gelatin in anything? "Here, have one of my sushi pieces. It's pretty good." She was holding out the round, wrapped in seaweed, and Lexa shyly opened her mouth so Clarke could feed it to her. She even held her other hand beneath Lexa's chin to catch any falling pieces. Maybe Lexa hadn't thought this through. It's fake, she knows that objectively...but just playing at intimacy was causing butterflies to hatch in her stomach.
"Mnhm. Not bad. The real deal spoiled me for anything else, but it's pretty good." She admitted. Lexa didn't know why she was trying to dial back her usual forthright criticism. Clarke didn't take offense.
"You've had sushi in Japan? When? I've always wanted to go, just haven't made it out there yet." Even though this was her mother's wedding, Clarke seemed genuinely focused on Lexa.
"Yes, I actually lived there for a few years when I was growing up. My mother was stationed there."
"Your mother's military? That's awesome!"
"Yeah, she was Army, stationed in Okinawa. We also lived in Germany for a while, and Hawaii."
"Damn, you've been to more places than I have. Oh crap." Clarke whined as she caught sight of something in the distance.
"What?"
"My other grandmother is on her way here...hey, move your arm." Lexa barely had time to glance in the direction Clarke was looking away from before she suddenly had a lapful of sweet smelling woman.
Clarke probably should've asked Lexa before she hopped onto her lap, but in her defense, she wanted to make it blatantly obvious to her willfully oblivious Mimsy that she didn't talk about boys with her 'gal pals'. Then she saw who Mimsy was helping to the table. "Oh no, it's Gee-gaw."
Gee-gaw was her paternal grandmother, who was bent over her cane as she made her way to Clarke's table. The old woman was rather senile but Clarke suspected half of that was an excuse to say whatever was on her mind without consequences. Mimsy was the grandparent that insisted on getting Clarke that subscription to the online dating site. Lexa's arm wound around her back and her hand settled rather proprietarily on Clarke's bare thigh. Clarke gulped.
"Hello, sugar." Mimsy called out when she was close enough to be heard at a distance over the classic rock song that was playing over the speakers. "Why on earth are you sitting on your friend's lap? There's plenty of chairs around!" She laughed as if Clarke were a silly child. Finally, the two women settled into their chairs across the table from Clarke and Lexa.
Clarke doesn't connect much with her extended family. They're people she just wants to acknowledge the truth about her so that it's out there. They won't be horrible about her bisexuality, she's sussed out that much, but they'll be judgmental and gossip about it. Honestly? Clarke thinks they'd be more accepting if she'd been a gay man. She's gotten the impression that those were now considered a fashionable accessory in Savannah and Atlanta.
Lexa's hand rubbed her thigh comfortingly. The touch just makes her skin tingle and her want to fidget. Clarke smiles at her grandmothers. "Mimsy! This is Lexa, I met her on the dating website you got me that subscription for? She loves to cook, and I love to eat. It's a match made in heaven!" She slung her arm around Lexa's shoulders, cupping her shoulder through the mass of soft curls imprisoned between their bodies.
Mimsy's face contorted through several expressions of shock. "What's that, dear?"
Next to her, Gee-gaw piped up as if her fellow in-law were deaf. "SHE SAID SHE'S A LESBIAN, BETTY." Clarke winced at the volume. So did Mimsy. She noticed several frowning stares from the surrounding tables.
"Actually, I'm bisexual, Gee-gaw. I could date either men or women." She patiently explained.
Gee-gaw waved her off. "Oh, yes, I've known lots of those, too."
"Oh, Glenda. Really!" Mimsy huffed, clutching at her pearls. Gee-gaw shrugged helplessly.
"What? I always have to yell things at you several times before they sink in, anyways. Besides, at least this young lady knows how to dress appropriately." Clarke flushed at the slight on her own dress choice. Or her mom's, who knew with the woman?
To Clarke, Mimsy offered a thin smile. "Well, I didn't know that internet page had those kinds of options, but if you're happy darlin'..."
"Oh, I am." Clarke emphasized. "Lexa understands what it's like to be a driven woman in this day and age and we have a lot of common goals." Clarke knew those buzzwords were things that Mimsy would understand and value. "In fact, did you know that Lexa wants to go into politics someday?" That was a detail she'd gotten from Lexa's website, one of her personal posts. She could practically feel Lexa's stare boring into her.
Mimsy looked surprised and regarded Lexa with...could it be...a hint of approval? At the very least she wouldn't have to be horrified by some kind of pregnancy scandal. Theoretically. If her and Lexa were actually dating, that is. Which they weren't.
Gee-gaw stared at Lexa. "Ah, so you're the man in the relationship, I see. I, for one, find it refreshing that today's modern woman can be a tomboy and attain these masculine positions in society." She declared. Mimsy leaned back towards her in-law.
"But she cooks."
"Huh?"
"Now who's going deaf, Glenda? I said 'but Lexa cooks', if Clarke is studying to be a lady doctor and Lexa cooks, that's different from what you were sayin'."
Gee-gaw's face scrunched up as she stared between the two of them. "But how will you have your mail addressed to you, dears? Isn't it confusing with one of you going to be a doctor and one of you a Senator or something?" Clarke took a deep breath, closing her eyes in a bid for patience. She didn't need to. Lexa piped up from next to her.
"Neither one of us is 'the man', Mrs. Griffin. We are simply two intelligent and capable women, regardless of our profession and inclination. And if it should come down to it, our mail would be addressed 'Doctor Griffin and Senator Heidlin' or the other way around, without issue." Lexa pitched their case so eloquently and convincingly, Clarke could only gape at her, impressed. Gee-gaw was staring Lexa down and neither seemed willing to relent. Finally, her grandmother shifted in her chair, giving Lexa appraising eyes.
"You say you cook. Tell me, what kind of china do you use?"
Clarke was weeping again, because she'd drank that glass of champagne too fast and then she'd gone up front to give a heartfelt speech on her mother's behalf that hadn't left a dry eye in the house. Lexa could admit to feeling a tad bit emotional, watching Clarke. Buoyed by all these strange desires and wants. While the bride was dancing with her daughter and the groom with his mother, Lexa was left to sit with Clarke's Gee-gaw. Who was grinning at her.
"You should go up and dance with Clarke, dear. I'm not sure which one of you would lead, but I'm sure you can work it out between the two of you." The old woman murmured, patting Lexa's forearm. Lexa gave her a nervous smile. Her family wasn't as big as this, but they were generally accepting of her sexuality. It was kind of fun to scandalize a family, Lexa was realizing. But she had to let Clarke take the lead, lest they overstep their boundaries.
"Oh, I don't know if she'd be okay with that."
Gee-gaw...Glenda, Lexa thought she'd heard the woman called...shook her head emphatically. "Nonsense. You've got to seize these moments when you get them! I used to be quite the looker back in the day, you know?" She gave Lexa a saucy wink. "My Paul and I had all sorts of fun. Why even one of those Kennedy boys joined us. He was real fond of the whip, that one."
Lexa flushed. "You know what, I think I will go dance with Clarke. Thank you, Glenda." She couldn't escape that table fast enough.
Clarke was being spun around by her step-dad and she was laughing freely when she caught sight of Lexa. Sobering a bit, she waved goodbye to Marcus and crossed the floor to where Lexa stood. "Hey, I'm sorry if I left you too long-"
"No, I'm fine. I thought I might have a turn dancing with you." Lexa was gratified to see the slow grin tug at the side of Clarke's lips. She reached out and curled her fingers around Lexa's own.
"I would love to."
People applauded around them as the song ended and then the opening guitar chords of a new one began. "Oh, that's their song!" Clarke exclaimed, turning to watch her mom be pulled into her new husband's arms. Lexa tugged gently on Clarke's hand where it was joined with hers and pulled her onto the dance floor along with several other couples. Clarke placed her other hand on Lexa's shoulder, so she curled her arm around Clarke's waist just as Neil Diamond began to croon.
Where it began,
I can't begin to knowin'
But then I know it's growing strong
Was in the spring
And spring became the summer
Who'd have believed you'd come along.
They swayed from side to side, moving slowly across the dance floor. Lexa could feel her heart beating hard at the connection that seemed to be flaring up between them in spite of their conceit. "You were making a very convincing case for me to your grandmother," she said next to Clarke's ear. With the both of them wearing heels, but Clarke's being taller platform ones, Lexa was just the same height as Clarke. She looked into those brighter blue eyes as they crinkled sheepishly. "You're just setting her up for disappointment when we eventually have our fake break-up."
She was fishing, she knew that.
Hands, touchin' hands
Reachin' out, touchin' me, touchin' you
Clarke looked rather smug. She leaned closer to speak next to her ear, her warm breath tickling the whorls. "Well, maybe we'll have to carry on with this deception a while longer. You wouldn't want to cause trouble with her heart, would you?" Lexa's blood began to sing and she couldn't hide her smile if she tried.
Sweet Caroline
Good times never seemed so good
I've been inclined
To believe they never would
But now I...
"First you slammed a door in my face, now you're blackmailing me into a relationship? That's not very nice of you, Clarke."
Clarke's hand squeezed her own a little bit tighter and Lexa felt their bodies moving even closer together, until breasts and hips were brushing against one other. "What if I kiss you, would that make it better?" Lexa could barely hear the music over her pounding heart or force her eyes away from Clarke's own, or those glossy pink lips that looked so soft, so inviting.
"Sexual favors now? What would your family think?"
"Fuck them." The word seemed so filthy on her lips, Lexa gave in and covered them with her own. Clarke gasped against the kiss but angled her head, returning it eagerly. Lexa's senses grew more acute, full of the darkness on the dance floor, the sparkling lights, the warmth of nearby bodies but most especially Clarke's own, the scrape of teeth along her lip making her lower belly clench with want, the smell of Clarke's perfume filling the space around her, the feel of silk under her fingertips, and the sound of a small moan cutting through the yearning voice singing.
Warm, touchin' warm
Reachin' out, touchin' me, touchin' you
Sweet Caroline
Good times never seemed so good
With the kiss, all her caution and reticence went out the wind. She didn't want this to ever stop, furthermore, Lexa didn't see how she could just say goodbye and that would be that. "Okay," she breathed against Clarke's lips, pulling back from the kiss a fraction so they could press their foreheads together and continue swaying to the beat. "Consider me convinced."
(10:28 PM): Lexa and I are gonna stay at the B&B tonight, so don't wait up for us.
(10:31 PM): Separate beds or????
(10:32 PM): What O means to ask is are you gonna tap that ?
(10:34 PM): What makes you think I haven't already?
(10:35 PM): *peach emoji* *tongue emoji*
(10:36 PM): Don't be so crass Octavia.
(10:36 PM): I'm so proud of you, grasshopper.