On the morning their shooting schedule resumes, Clarke sends a snap of her breakfast to Lexa and waits. It’s always been this way – always, Clarke wakes ahead, prepares breakfast, and waits for the tell-tale blip on her phone screen that tells her that Lexa’s replied.
Today, however – today is different, because Clarke is sending the snap, not from her flat but from right beside Lexa, just to be annoying.
“You do know I see what you’re eating, right?” Lexa reaches over to pick a grape off Clarke’s plate, as if to demonstrate her point. Clarke just laughs, their shoulders brushing together as Lexa moves closer, and Lexa offers another grape to Clarke in kind, hand hovering just in front of her lips.
Clarke opens her mouth slowly, deliberately licking at Lexa’s fingertip afterwards. Lexa lets out a groan. “Thanks,” says Clarke, smiling smugly. “How’s your breakfast?”
Lexa looks down at her plate, smiling absently. “It’s pretty good,” she says. “We should probably post something to tease about this shoot no? What do you think?”
@LVine: BIG day today! But first – breakfast @IamClarkeG :* pic.twitter.com/OgwS5n0afL
@IamClarkeG: @LVine so excited! =)
@thisisravenreyes: @IamClarkeG @LVine OH MY GOD is this??? FINALLY???? cc @ahnrivers_
@ahnrivers_: @thisisravenreyes hahaha @IamClarkeG @LVine go get ‘em girls! kisses x
“I will never be over the fact that Anya and Raven watch our show,” says Lexa, and Clarke could already spot that tell-tale start of a blush. “Have you seen?”
“Yep,” Clarke nods, scrolling down her feed. “Look at you, you’re destroying the Internet for breakfast, babe.”
Lexa blushes harder. “Well, not just me—that photo is half you, Clarke.”
“Fine,” she concedes, leaning in for a quick kiss on Lexa’s cheek. “We’re destroying the Internet. For breakfast. What a time to be alive.”
They’re in the middle of a semi-lazy kiss on their hotel room couch when Lexa’s phone starts ringing, vibrating loudly against the wooden table.
“Do you have to get that?” Clarke murmurs, still nibbling at Lexa’s lower lip. She opens one eye to take a peek – it’s Anya. Clarke tries not to groan too loudly.
Lexa keeps kissing for a few more moments before pulling away, though she keeps one hand firmly gripping Clarke’s hip. “Wait a sec.”
“Lexa–” Clarke whines.
Lexa shakes her head, eyeing Clarke like she’s saying This won’t take long. “Fucking hell, Ahn,” Lexa greets, swiping to answer her phone on speaker.
Background noise greets them back first before Anya comes in more clearly. “Bad time?”
Clarke rolls her eyes, leaning closer to nip at Lexa’s earlobe, and Lexa tries not to shudder and let it show in her voice.
“Not at all,” Lexa says, swallowing hard. “What’s up?”
“Hey, Anya!” Clarke chimes in anyway, practically crawling over Lexa’s lap. “Where’s Raven?”
“CLARKE!” Of fucking course. Clarke lets out a laugh, imagining Anya and Raven huddled close together, speaking into Anya’s phone somewhere. “LEXA!”
“Hi Raven,” Lexa says, and Clarke burrows into her arms further. Might as well get comfortable, she thinks. If this phone call’s going to be lengthy, right? “Where are you guys?”
“No – where are you guys?” Raven asks back. “I saw the photo you posted, Lex – those robes look very comfy.”
“We’re shooting a handful of hotel scenes today,” says Clarke. Her hand strays inside Lexa’s robe and Lexa draws in a quick breath. “Lexa and I are just… going over some lines.”
“Yeah,” Lexa says, though her voice is a bit strained. Wonder why? Clarke smirks at her, hand still on the bare skin of Lexa’s stomach, slipped between the robe. “Lots of things to memorize.”
Someone laughs at the other end of the line, and Clarke recognizes it to be Anya. “Whatever you say girls,” she drawls, and Raven starts laughing along in the background as well. These fuckers. “How’s line reading going so far?”
“Fuck you Ahn,” says Lexa, rolling her eyes and getting her phone from the table, ostensibly to end the call. “Is that all?”
“One last thing,” says Raven. She breathes in to pause, as if bracing herself for some really big announcement, and Clarke feels Lexa’s hold on her tighten slightly. “I just want to say – I’m captain of this Clexa ship, or whatever you call your pairing. I am captain. I am on it. I am a fan--”
“Thank you, Raven,” Lexa says, and oh jesus, her cheeks are so red right now, it looks as if Clarke had slapped her or something. “I’m going to hang up now—”
“One more thing—are you filming a sex scene, or?”
“RAVEN.” It’s ridiculous, how Lexa and Anya complain at the same time, and Clarke just giggles into Lexa’s chest. “Christ,” says Lexa, laughing lightly herself. “Can I not comment on that?”
“Hah, it would have been easy to say no,” says Raven.
“Okay then – no,” Lexa says.
Clarke laughs. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Lex.”
“Kane would kill you if that leaked, no?” says Anya.
“Yeah,” Lexa concedes, and in the background they could hear Raven making choking sounds in her glee. “For the love of us – please don’t get us killed?”
“If it’s any consolation, I think you’re killing Raven right now--”
“I’m fine,” Raven says, wheezing in the background. “I’ll be over here, sitting expectantly, ready to die.”
“Please don’t die,” says Lexa.
“We need as many viewers as we could manage,” says Clarke.
“I will watch in the afterlife,” says Raven. “And gather viewers from there for you; it’s going to be amazing.”
“Jesus Christ, people,” Anya interrupts. “Why am I friends with you again?”
Later, when the phone call has long ended, Clarke waits for makeup call time in Lexa’s room, her feet propped up on Lexa’s lap. She’s browsing through their script for the day, and Lexa is idly kneading at her ankle.
“Our friends are crazy,” Clarke says, without looking up from her papers. “On a scale of 1 to batshit, how pissed would Kane be if that leaked?”
“Batshit,” Lexa says, and when Clarke takes a small peek, she sees her smiling anyhow. “You know how much Kane hates his spoilers.”
“He’s like this Spoiler Warrior, or something.”
Lexa laughs. “Spoiler Warrior,” she repeats. “Don’t let him hear you.”
“Not about to,” says Clarke, shaking her head. She settles into the couch further, sinking into Lexa’s touch, growing better by the minute. “So good,” she murmurs, letting her eyes flutter closed.
Clarke nods. “Your hands. God.”
Laughing, Clarke swats at Lexa playfully, an eye still closed. “Don’t be so smug.”
“I’m not.” And then, laughing lightly: “Okay, maybe a little.”
Clarke laughs along, tossing her script onto the table and shifting closer to Lexa and eventually crawling onto her lap, straddling her. “You ready for later, babe?” she asks, tucking Lexa’s hair behind her ear.
Lexa looks up at her, soft smile playing on her lips. “Of course. And you?”
“Don’t judge me,” Clarke begins. “But I have been waiting.”
“Have you?” Lexa asks, hands straying under Clarke’s top. Shit, do we even have time? Clarke eyes the clock on the desk – ten minutes? Fifteen? Clarke groans, leaning over to capture Lexa’s lips in a quick kiss.
“Don’t start,” Clarke says, warning in her tone.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“I can feel your hands.”
“My hands are just being friendly.”
This fucker. “That’s not—” Clarke gasps as Lexa skims her warm palms over Clarke’s stomach before scratching lightly at her sides. “That’s—that’s nowhere near friendly. Friendly has a zip code, and your hand isn’t in it—”
“Is that right?” Lexa leans in, nipping at Clarke’s jaw, and jesus. What part of not starting does she not understand? Clarke thinks, knees turning to jelly.
Oh, fuck this. Clarke rolls her eyes, fingertips finding the hem of her shirt and lifting. Lexa keeps smiling at her, steady and infuriating, even as Clarke drops her shirt to the floor.
“Makeup is in ten,” Clarke says, inching slowly toward Lexa’s lips.
“Let me have seven,” says Lexa in reply, closing the gap herself.
On their first shooting day back, Clarke Griffin is late for makeup for half an hour.
Profuse apologies aside, it’s all kind of worth it. #