Chapter Text
The first time Lexa knows she wants to marry Clarke is a Sunday evening lazing in bed.
They’d spent the entire day in pyjamas which, really, they should’ve thought through more. Clarke still had floury handprints on her ass from when they’d made chocolate chip pancakes and Lexa had smacked her ass and told her, completely seriously that there was nothing there when the blonde woman had swivelled to check almost immediately.
“I’m serious, Clarke, there’s nothing there!”
Lexa had leaned away from her embrace when Clarke had tried to throw flour on her face, swatting half heartedly but drawing her in for a kiss half a second later. When she’d pulled back, Clarke’s eyes were mischievous and Lexa knew there was a streak of powder across her cheek; she said nothing because Clarke was still touching her and she didn’t care one bit.
And then later, they’d ordered Chinese and eaten in bed, at Clarke’s request, the cat banished to the kitchen while they’d gorged on a shared General Tso’s chicken and watched shitty movies on Netflix. Lexa had handed Clarke her fortune cookie first.
“Read it to me, then,” Lexa smirked, following their usual tradition, to read each others.
Lexa had picked up their leftovers in the meanwhile, kicking open their bedroom door, walking a few feet to their kitchen and putting them in the fridge, listening to Clarke shout out her fortune.
“It says…ha, it says ‘a very attractive person has a message for you.’” Clarke popped the cookie crumbs into her mouth and crunched, seemingly unaffected, but there was a curl of a smile at the corner of her mouth.
Lexa leaned against the door frame, watching her, her blonde tousled hair gathered up in the messiest bun you could imagine, tiniest fleck of soy sauce on the corner of her mouth, looking so pretty and perfect she could scarcely believe her luck at that moment. She caught the cookie tossed her way with one hand, crunching it open and pulling the paper out with her teeth as she walked to the foot of their bed. Lexa remembers as she stood there, paper hanging from her mouth, forgotten, because Clarke was crawling toward her in a way that made her glad she had something to brace her knees on.
“What does it say, baby?”
Clarke had husked, glancing her nose over Lexa’s. Screw the fortune cookie and screw me too. But Clarke was stubborn, and she wasn’t going to give in at this moment. Lexa took a breath and tried to settle as she read in a strong voice that definitely did not betray her desire to do unspeakable things to her girlfriend.
“It says, ‘everyone’s right, you’re the best.”
Lexa had watched Clarke’s eyes darken almost immediately, reach up and pull her hair out of it’s bun, so it fell loose around her shoulders and back. She leaned back so she was lying on their bed, hand sneaking up the front of Lexa’s sleep shirt.
“You know, I never really put much stock in those cookies, did you?” Her eyes were wide and innocent as her thumb grazed Lexa’s breast. Lexa groaned, but moved her leg to settle her thigh between Clarke’s legs, pressing down, delighting in the way Clarke’s hips jumped. She smirked.
“Well… how about we test your theory, Miss Griffin? And you can give me your evaluation after my…performance.”
And they passed the evening with whispered declarations of love against heated skin until the sun rose again.
That had been a year ago. They’d been dating for six months. Now, Lexa has an army surplus bag slung across her shoulder and they wandering through Central Park for a spot to have their lunch.
“I don’t know why we couldn’t just pick up an order from The Crane, babe.” Clarke half nudges into Lexa’s shoulder and laughs as Lexa re-adjusts the strap with a barely there frown, scolding.
“Because, Miss Griffin, I want this day to be perfect. Besides, are you saying you’renot a fan of my infamous white chocolate covered strawberries?” Clarke yanks her to a stop almost immediately, fingers pulling her round to face her.
“You made those? Oh my god, Lex, I think I actually love you.” Her eyes are wide and she presses a kiss to Lexa’s cheek, looking thoroughly impressed. Lexa grins, tipping her head down and kissing Clarke’s forehead. She speaks against her skin.
“Oh, I get it, you’re keeping me around for my cooking, yes?” She laughs when Clarke swats at her, catching her hand and holding it to her chest. She loves her. She loves her so much. Clarke looks up at her with eyes so blue she could drown in them, very happily.
“Of course not, you dork. I love you.” Clarke’s fingers flex against her chest, and Lexa’s hand loosens as she feels Clarke trace a heart shape into her skin. If Lexa were an overly emotional person, she might’ve cried at how goddamn sweet that was. But she stockpiled it, to the point that she would pour it out all at once and it would usually cause merciless teasing from Clarke, ever since they watched Marley and Me together and she got her period early and Clarke would just not let it go. Besides, she had plans to be a giant sap, very soon. The tiny little weight in the smallest left pocket of her jeans was barely noticeable, thankfully, but it could not feel any heavier to Lexa. She was not nervous. It was only that it felt like their entire future in her pocket. That was all.
“I love you too,” Lexa manages, and tugs them along after she realises they’re about to hold up a long line of school children on a field trip.
So maybe Clarke notices the slight tremble of her hand when she shakes out the blanket to lay on under the shade of the tree. Maybe she doesn’t. She spreads out the blanket and digs out various tupperware of food - chicken and cous cous salad, Clarke’s favourite, a packet of chips and dip, a bottle of water and, of course, dessert. She taps the back of Clarke’s hand as she reaches for the strawberries, admonishing.
“You eat your lunch, first, baby. Then you can eat as many strawberries as you like.”
Clarke groans in pleasure as Lexa pulls her fingers through her hair, gently, scratching her scalp as she goes. “That feels so good, Lex.” Lexa, with her back propped against the tree and Clarke’s head in her lap, hums in contentment and continues to pet her girlfriend’s hair, wondering how much longer she can keep this moment. The brunette wishes she’d set up a camera to record the next few moments.
She’s very conscious of the next breath she takes, feeling Clarke’s hair tickle under her chin as she opens her mouth. This is it. She thinks she imagines the halting of Clarke’s breath for a second. Lexa is the warrior of the two; the one that catches the spider with a glass and throws it outside, praises their kitten, Neville, (Lexa’s choice, but she didn’t think Clarke would take her suggestion seriously), presents them with various dead vermin. Clarke is the one to make her coffee in the morning, bring her flowers home from work, read her the morning paper and beat her ass at Just Dance on the PS4.
“Hey, Lexa, wanna dance?” Clarke was looking up at her now, a cheeky smile on her face. Broke into her mind and plucked the thought from her head, it would seem. Lexa twisted her mouth into some semblance of a smile. Some part of her was glad that Clarke couldn’t actually read her mind - if she could then she’s playing along excellently well.
“Only if I can pick the music.”
Clarke nods and laughs, levering herself off of Lexa and looking at her. Lexa reaches into her pocket, knuckles grazing the small bit of the next step of their life before she slips her phone out. As she scrolls through her songs, Clarke crouches by Lexa, one side of her hair swept over her ear, peering with interest at her screen, but her hand playing with the end of Lexa’s braid. “Love you,” she mutters, burying her face against Lexa’s neck, pressing her lips there. It takes a moment before she decides to take it further, but soon Lexa is groaning, head tilted, hands wandering.
“Did you wanna dance, or make out?” Lexa mumbles against Clarke’s already probing mouth.
“Hmmm, I think…,” Clarke presses one kiss, another, hands at her waist. “I think we should make out.”
“Oh yeah, you do?” Lexa shifts and lets Clarke slide into her lap, her own hands securely on her thighs.
“Yes, yes I do.” Clarke is adamant and loving and kissing her and she forgets everything until one of Clarke’s hands drifts to her pocket, and there’s a crinkling sound. It’s loud and obviously something that catches Clarke’s attention. “What’s this?”
Okay, now this is it.
Lexa wants to take it slow. But Clarke is looking at her in a way that makes Lexa want to marry her tomorrow, screw everything else. But she smiles and sits them up, Clarke still in her lap. Clarke lifts herself up so Lexa can take the slightly crumpled packet from her right pocket, showing it to Clarke.
“A cookie?”
“You remember that Sunday we spent in our pyjamas making pancakes and eating Chinese?” Lexa feels her heart beat faster.
“I think you’ll have to be more specific maybe, Lex, we’ve had a few of those.” Clarke smiles, but her eyes tell Lexa something else. She knows which one she means.
“You had a cookie, I had a cookie. There was another one.”
“You kept a fortune cookie for a year?” Clarke is incredulous but curious, playing with the packet. Lexa watches as Clarke turns it over in her hands, slowly. Her voice is quiet when she speaks again. “Can I open it?”
Lexa’s heart jumps. She may be a warrior for her princess, but love has always been her weakness. Clarke knows her, inside and out, and she knows Clarke and she wants to carry on knowing her. They’ve been together for over a year. Their friends tell them they’re adorable. They know they’re adorable. Lexa loves this girl with all her heart. “Yes.”
Clarke busies herself opening it with her teeth, and Lexa slides her fingertips into the smallest part of her left pocket, holding the ring for the first time since she put it in her pocket at six o’clock this morning. Her hands aren’t shaking. She grips it tighter, conviction making her strong. As Clarke cracks it open, she catches the roll of paper before it drops into her lap. Lexa nuzzles into her cheek, and she keeps her head against Clarke’s.
“Read it to me?” It was their tradition. She hears Clarke’s breath catch, and Lexa can’t help but smile.
“It…it says, you will marry your lover.” She looks up and sees the ring, held between two of Lexa’s fingers. “Oh my god, Lex…,” Clarke husks, and her eyes are bright with tears. Lexa hushes her, so she can say her piece.
“I’ve known since then I’ve wanted to marry you, Clarke Griffin. I’d move mountains for you, if you asked me to.”
Clarke’s bottom lips quivers and it’s adorable and Lexa wants to kiss her until they can’t breath, but she has to ask her first.
“I used to say love is weakness, and if that is true, then you are my kryptonite, and I would not have it any other way. Will you marry me?”
It seems like an age until Clarke answers her. Lexa won’t lie, it’s a goddamn terrifying few seconds that stretch into moments that she will be haunted by for the rest of her existence, in the best of ways.
And then Clarke takes her face in her hands and kisses her,
“Yes, yes, yes,” she says, and they are pressed to her lips and Lexa swallows them, greedy, relieved and so in love. Clarke cries and Lexa cries, and they laugh and they kiss and Clarke said yes, and Lexa feels like she might burst. She’s never felt so weak and so strong at the same time, and she wouldn’t let go of the feeling for anything, as long as she kept Clarke.