Chapter Text
Lexa is having a particularly good day.
She's finally managed to fit her most excellent red cape to a shoulder piece that straps snugly to her upper body, giving her the effortless sweeping effect that just tying it around her neck had never achieved, and it's both practical and pretty. She tests the practical theory by letting the lone walker she runs across on patrol purposefully get too close to her, using her now protected left shoulder to shove it away before she cleanly drives her sword through it's somewhat decomposed head. Another plus is how easy it is to clean the walker blood off it afterwards. So all in all she's very happy with the overall effect. Plus it really does round out her patrol gear rather well, the red of her cape adding a very necessary splash of color.
Point is Lexa is looking as good as she feels, and feeling good is not something that happens a lot when you're seemingly the only person left alive after the zombie apocalypse, so of course that's when things go wrong. Or very right. Lexa's still trying to figure that one out. One moment she's strutting through the forest, cape magnificently swept behind her in the wind, and the next thing she knows there's a girl falling out of the sky and landing right on top of her. She doesn't at first realize it's a girl, not with how the thing on top of her smells like death, or that she's alive, refer back to it smelling like death, but when both she and the girl let out somewhat undignified yelps of pain and surprise it somewhat registers. It's a good thing too, because Lexa has learned the hard way to stab at things first and ask questions second, so their unconventional way of meeting probably saved the very dirty, very smelly girl's life.
Not that it stops Lexa from shoving the girl off and rolling to her feet, the business end of her sharp sword pressed to the girls chest in about four seconds flat, because alive doesn't mean not dangerous. From the last time Lexa came into contact with another living, human being, she's somewhat of the opinion that walker's aren't even the true danger out there anymore. Walkers are easy. They come at you and try to eat you. You swing at them and decapitate them. End of story. People though, they're not so easy to read anymore. People are dishonest and desperate and cannot be trusted, because humanity is a thing of the past and it's not just the smartest that survived, but also the biggest and meanest. Not that Lexa has seen anyone else that has managed to survive in a good year or so, but that's beside the point. The point is there is a girl, with very blue eyes, staring at her from the ground and Lexa isn't sure she shouldn't just be stabbing her through the heart and getting on with her day, but first there is something she feels needs to be said.
"You fell from the sky."
Her statement is met with a slow blink and then a somewhat incredulous look. "Uhm, no, I fell from a tree."
Lexa does not feel immensely stupid, because though that is a perfectly reasonable explanation for what happened that she probably should have thought of first, it doesn't change the fact that strange things have happened over the last four years and a girl falling from the sky isn't that preposterous an idea. Lexa woke up one morning and her girlfriend had tried to eat her. In the non sexy way. Walkers were an actual thing, ok? Strange was now her reality.
"Right. Of course. Why'd you do that?" Another perfectly reasonable question, Lexa thinks.
"Didn't exactly mean to do it. You fall out of a lot of trees on purpose?"
Right, Lexa hasn't had to hold a conversation for quite some time and she really didn't think sarcasm was needed. "Mockery isn't the product of a strong mind."
The girl actually snorts at that. "Thanks for that enlightening bit of information. Now are you about done lecturing me, because I'd like to discuss the more pressing matter of your sword against my chest."
Lexa may or may not put a little bit more pressure on said sword. "And I'd like to discuss the matter of you ambushing me from the sky." There is a beat of silence wherein Lexa absolutely does not roll her eyes at herself. "I mean tree." She gets another snort, followed by what may be a blush. Lexa isn't sure, the girls face is actually that dirty.
"It wasn't an ambush." When nothing else is forthcoming, Lexa pressed down even harder on her sword. "I fell asleep in the tree, ok? Something woke me up and my arm was all needles and pins when I put my weight on it, and the next thing I know I'm landing on top of you."
Lexa takes a moment to look at the girl, not just her very blue eyes and filthy face, but the whole of her. The clothes she's wearing are ragged and torn, her wrists are thin and bony, her lips chapped from the sun and possibly dehydration. It doesn't look like she's had a decent meal, a thorough bath or a full nights rest in a very long time. She looks like she's very much alone in the world.
Lexa knows a bit about being alone. "I believe you."
She slips her sword back into it's sheath and extends a hand, nods encouragingly at the girl to take it. This is an offer she shouldn't be making, this hand she's extended in help both literally and figuratively, and the prone girl seems to know this too. She takes Lexa's helping hand up, but her eyes are narrowed and weary as she stands. "I have food and shelter if you need it." She pauses and grimaces slightly when the wind gently blows across them and she realizes she's standing downwind from the other girl. "I also have soap. Lots and lots of soap. Which I think you should probably use immediately."
Suspicion is so swiftly chased from the strangers face and replaced with obvious offense that Lexa almost laughs. She doesn't though, not just because laughter and joy is a foreign concept when the world has pretty much ended, but because she doesn't know this girl and will not let her guard down around her. Lexa can be kind, but she cannot be weak. There is no place for weakness in this world.
“You’re kind of an asshole.” When Lexa just cocks an eyebrow and drags her eyes down the girls body pointedly, a sigh escapes the thin, filthy thing that’s barely managing to not sway on her feet in front of her. “Ok, so you’re an honest asshole, I can appreciate that.”
Lexa smirks and takes it as the complement she senses it to be.
- & -
After a year of silence it’s somewhat disconcerting to hear movement from within her own home as she stands in front of her little gas stove heating canned corn and beans for lunch. What’s worse is that the usual silence is broken by what could only be described as near orgasmic moans and quiet mumbling as well. Lexa tries not to judge, figuring if she hadn’t had access to warmish water and soap for as long as Clarke has, she’d be near stupid with pleasure at the return of these most basic of necessities too.
Still though, near pornographic moaning? Honestly.
She’s still absent-mindedly stirring when the soft padding of bare feet catches her attention, eyes flicking to the doorway just as Clarke steps through it. Lexa damn near face plants into the beans at the sight.
Clarke is scrubbed clean, hair a pale, wet tangle over her shoulders. She’s sort of glowing, eyes still a striking shade of blue despite there being no dirt to contrast the colour so harshly like a mere half hour ago, and Lexa comes to the somewhat startling discovery that she’s rather beautiful. The shirt she’s taken from Lexa’s own closet is loose on her, lack of food taking it’s toll and presenting itself in the hollows beneath her prominent collarbones, her sunken stomach. When she inhales deeply, Lexa watches as her eyelids close and her whole body sort of shudders, like every sinewy muscle has been expertly plucked like a guitar cord.
“Oh, my sweet God, I have never smelled anything as good as whatever it is you’re cooking right now.”
Lexa doesn’t say anything, weirdly effected by the whole scene. She doesn’t know if she’s effected in a down-in-her-pants way or deep-in-her-cold-heart way. It’s confusing. She kinda, maybe wants to sort of kiss the surprisingly attractive girl, but she also maybe, kinda wants to hug her close and force feed her all the beans and canned corn she has left.
Maybe she’s just out of practice with people. Possibly also feelings, but honestly that had never entirely been her strong suit. “Sit. I’ll feed you.”
Clarke very nearly collapses into a kitchen chair and watches trance like as Lexa dishes up the food. She’s barely slid the plate in front of her before the blonde digs in. Her head almost hangs in her plate she’s leaning so close to it trying to get at the food faster. Lexa cringes a bit when a smattering of sauce starts to cover her cheeks in her haste, subtly pushing a clean dishcloth her way in lieu of an actual napkin.
Clarke is really massacring her plate of food.
“You’re staring.” Clarke’s voice startles her from...well. From staring.
“I’ve seen walkers tear a guy to pieces less messily then you’re going at your food right now.” Clarke levels her with an unamused stare, Lexa shrugging in response. “Honest asshole, remember?”
This gets her a soft snort and a half smile. Lexa is inordinately pleased at the response. Clarke does sit up a bit straighter and eats maybe a fraction of a second slower, but it’s still obvious that her attention is mostly focused on her food.
“So what’s with your face?” Lexa chokes on her own food at the sudden question, a blush softly creeping up Clarke’s neck. “I mean it looks like you fell asleep without washing your mascara off. For the last year straight.”
Lexa tips her chin up and narrows her eyes. She’s not embarrassed by the fact she forgot she meticulously applied black face paint this morning before she started her patrol. She just most certainly isn’t. Besides, it absolute went with her outfit, adding to the dramatic flair of her cape.
“It’s war paint.” When that actually stalls Clarke’s eating, Lexa huffs and crosses her arms over her chest defensively. “I used to cosplay a lot, before...”
She doesn’t need to explain. Clarke nods in understanding, her blue eyes steady as she gives her attention to Lexa completely for a few seconds. “This is something normal for you. It’s nice that you can still have that.” She tilts her head to the side and stares back down at her food, fork now lazily swirling through what’s left of her food. “I still love to draw.”
They’re quiet then, the moment weirdly raw and intimate between them. Lexa doesn’t want to say anything and ruin it, mostly just basking in the fact that Clarke understood. Even before the world went to hell Lexa had had a hard time connecting with people, Costia and Anya being the exceptions, and yet here she sat at her kitchen table and found effortless understanding with this girl that fell from the sky. Or tree. Whatever.
“It’s stupid though, isn’t it? I don’t need any of this, the war paint and the epic outfit, to survive, but it...I...” She’s not entirely sure what she’s trying to say, but once again Clarke doesn’t need more to understand exactly.
“Life should be about more than just surviving.”
Lexa feels her heart stutter at the words. Remembers the last year she’s spent entirely on her own, how it felt like surviving, but not living. Looks at the thin, worn girl in front of her that still manages to be beautiful and feels something like hope bloom in her chest. “Yeah. Maybe we deserve more than just surviving.”
When Clarke just smiles softly at her, Lexa knows she’s fallen more than just a little bit in love.