Chapter Text
Going into her sophomore year of college, Clarke Griffin is excited for a number of things. Firstly, no more introductory classes, meaning no more instructors teaching basic sketching methods as though their art major students hadn’t taken art class throughout high school. Secondly, Clarke has finally mastered the ins and outs of campus, meaning no more awkward serenades from the A Cappella club who believe a poor rendition of any Madonna chart-topper will convince you to join. And thirdly, Clarke finally gets to say goodbye to dorm life. This year, instead of dealing with a folk music adoring and Clarke Griffin-hating (for no valid reason, might Clarke add) roommate, she gets to move into a moderately decent-sized apartment with her two best friends.
(Bonus points for this year also come with Finn finally qualifying as a member of Bellamy’s frat; meaning Clarke no longer has to deal with being pulled between the boys due to the hazing rituals Bellamy and his friends put Finn through.)
It’s exactly how she imagines in the first month. Living with Octavia and Raven is easy, which doesn’t surprise Clarke. After all, she spent the majority of freshman year in Octavia and Raven’s shared dorm room anyway, usually doing whatever it took in order to avoid the company of her not-so-friendly roommate.
There are some small bumps in the road, as expected, but nothing that causes Clarke any genuine discomfort.
But then, Octavia starts seeing someone. Well, sleeping with someone is a more accurate descriptor. Octavia comes home one day rambling about her new study buddy from her Spanish class, and it only takes Clarke one look at her friend to recognize the excited glint in the girl’s eyes. It’s only about a week before Octavia’s ‘study buddy’ is promoted to ‘sex buddy’.
Now, Clarke isn’t a prude.
She doesn’t care that her friend has a healthy sex life. But honestly, when said sex life comes between her need for the perfect study area, that’s when Clarke draws the line. Of course, she could just venture to the library, but the thought of sitting at an ancient desk with poor WiFi and a painful awareness of the not-so-subtle couples getting heated amongst the stacks… well, that thought is just about the least tempting thing ever.
So Clarke does what Clarke Griffin does when she’s reached her limits. She explodes.
Unfortunately for Lincoln, he’s in the room when she does.
Fortunately for Clarke, Lincoln feels guilty enough to offer her a reasonable alternative.
Apparently, Lincoln’s roommate has similar complaints to Clarke, which is what has lead to the increase in the pair’s time at Octavia’s place. Octavia and Lincoln are partners for an upcoming Spanish assignment, and as a result, it’s not just their libidos that demand the pair to spend time together.
Lincoln (apparently not all muscle, like Clarke had assumed upon learning of his athletics scholarship) offers her the key to his apartment with an apologetic smile and pressed assurances that his roommate is not an axe murderer. Clarke is reluctant to accept at first, but then she considers the chances of Octavia actually sticking to her promise of keeping her and Lincoln’s study sessions family-friendly from now on, and Clarke takes the key with a sigh.
Collecting her things, Clarke makes her way across campus to Lincoln’s apartment complex.
Clarke is pleasantly surprised when she opens the door to Lincoln’s apartment and isn’t greeted with piles of unwashed clothes and dirty dishes. After witnessing the state of Bellamy and Finn’s dorm room, as well as Monty and Jasper’s, she had half-assumed most boys simply enjoyed living in squalor.
Apparently, Lincoln does not share the same habits.
The apartment’s kitchen and living area is a bit larger than Clarke’s, presumably due to the one less bedroom, but the decoration is minimal. Whereas Clarke’s apartment is scattered with a mixture of her, Raven and Octavia’s favored forms of presentation, Lincoln’s is kept in a strictly plain state.
Curiosity gets the better of Clarke and she places her books down on the small dining table before inspecting the apartment.
A few identifying characteristics are scattered about the place, such as a dark patterned rug that’s folded over the couch, and a notably large bookcase next to the TV. But other than that, the fridge is the only place where Clarke finds any hints towards the personalities of the people that occupy the place.
Lincoln and his housemate both have their schedules stuck to the fridge, along with their food plans for the week. A magnet for their college’s track team is stuck to it, with a flyer for a hockey competition sitting a few inches away. Clarke can’t recall Lincoln ever mentioning the sport so she figures the flyer belongs to the roommate. Lexa, if she’s remembering correctly.
Seeing as Lincoln’s currently loved up with Octavia, Clarke’s going to assume that the girl with him in the one photo on the fridge is said roommate.
The pair are donned in their college colors, with ‘war paint’ streaked down their faces and exhausted, yet wide smiles on their lips. Clarke recognizes the banner in the background as that of the Fun Run held at their campus in their freshman year.
Said Fun Run that she and Raven had begrudgingly let Octavia drag them along to, only for their friend to speed off at the first whistle. Clarke and Raven didn’t survive long before they skipped out and headed for the nearest Chipotle, deciding a decent donation would make up for their inability to find the ‘fun’ in ‘run’.
Clarke decides she should probably start making the most of her time (after all, who knows when Lincoln and Octavia will decide on a change of setting), so she sets herself up at the dining table and attempts to find some form of motivation to study.
Don’t get her wrong; Clarke loves her course. Visual Arts is definitely a lot more entertaining than the idea of following in her mother’s footsteps and studying Medicine. But there is only so much fun a girl can get out of studying Art History, and when her other assignments involve actually drawing (as in, the whole reason she came to this college)… yeah, Clarke’s will to commit to the subject is very lacking.
She manages to jot down the first sentence of her weekly review before Clarke is distracted by the view out of the window of the apartment. It’s not much, but it’s definitely a lot more interesting than her textbook.
A few students walk along the pathway, presumably either returning or on their way to class (or skipping, as Clarke believes Raven is almost definitely doing right now). A group of boys are messing around with a football down on the grass, and Clarke rolls her eyes when one sheds his shirt after spotting a group of girls approaching them. Apparently it works for him, however, as the girls come to a pause to watch the mini-game (or the bare chest) for a moment.
Clarke finds her sketchbook and is beginning to draw the pigeon that is perched on the tree outside when she hears a door open, a bag dropping to the floor loudly.
“Who are you?”
The voice is cool and collected, and when Clarke turns around, she’s surprised that it belongs to the girl from the picture on the fridge. Lexa is gripping a hockey stick, donned in shorts and a tight singlet, and skin coated in a layer of sweat from the unforgiving sun. Her brown hair sticks to her forehead, falling loose from the hair tie that holds it up, and her surprisingly intimidating gaze is trained right on Clarke. If she weren’t too busy being overwhelmed by the outright godlike appearance of the girl in front of her, Clarke might actually be kind of frightened right now.
“Um- I- sorry-” Clarke jumps up from her seat (maybe a little bit clumsily, as she realizes her eyes might have lingered a bit on the toned muscles of Lexa’s tattooed arms), “I’m Clarke.” She smiles awkwardly, “You must be Lexa.”
Lexa doesn’t look impressed by the answer, and Clarke’s certain that she’s gripping her hockey stick with the intention of attacking at some point soon.
“Clarke who?” she prods, her enunciation polished to a degree that Clarke actually finds it slightly enticing, if not completely threatening.
“Griffin.” Clarke answers dumbly, as though the reveal of her last name is supposed to mean something to Lincoln’s roommate.
Lexa’s jaw tightens in growing irritation, and Clarke only squeaks out an explanation when she’s certain she is about to receive a hockey stick to the head.
“I thought Lincoln would’ve told you-” she blurts, and thankfully the other girl seems to relax a little bit at the name, “He said I could study here.”
“Lincoln. Right.” Lexa rolls her eyes, and she finally rests her hockey stick up against the wall as she lets out a sigh, kicking the door closed behind her, “And why exactly is my roommate offering our apartment out to strangers?”
“I’m not a stranger.”
“You’re a stranger to me.”
Clarke allows that, watching as the girl retrieves a bottle of water from the fridge, gulping down a generous amount, “I’m friends with Octavia…” she explains, “She’s dating Lincoln. Or- well- messing around with him. I’m not sure.”
“And that explains why you’re here because…”
“Oh- um… well I need to study.” Clarke says, suddenly feeling embarrassed, “I hate the library, and Octavia and Lincoln kept getting in my space, so Lincoln said I could hang out here instead. I guess he forgot to ask you first…”
“I guess he did.” Lexa clucks, placing the bottle down on the kitchen counter and eyeing Clarke with an unreadable expression. Her fingers drum against the surface lightly, silence falling between them.
“I’ll go.” Clarke decides, turning on her heel and beginning to pack up her things, “I honestly thought he would’ve told you. Otherwise I wouldn’t have just come over…”
She glances over her shoulder at Lexa who is continuing to watch her fuss about, “I’m really sorry.”
Clarke has finally shoved her books into her satchel when the other girl speaks.
“Stop.” She sighs in defeat, meeting Clarke’s eyes when the blonde turns around, “You can stay.”
Lexa looks almost as surprised as Clarke does when the allowance falls from her lips, frown still firmly in place.
“Are you sure?” Clarke asks, “I don’t mind going to the library.”
“You just said you hate the library.”
“Well, yeah but… this is your apartment.”
“Your observational skills are astounding.” Lexa responds dryly, capping her bottle of water, “Anyway, the way I see it, I either let you study here, or deal with Lincoln and Octavia’s obnoxious obsession with one another instead.”
A smile tugs at Clarke’s lips at the quip, “Okay.” She nods, “Well… I’ll try not to get in the way.”
“Please do.” Lexa says, retrieving her bag from the front door, “I study in my bedroom, so if you need anything just call out.”
The offer doesn’t sound very genuine, but Clarke appreciates that the girl’s at least attempting to seem cordial.
Clarke murmurs out a soft thanks, but Lexa has already escaped to the privacy of her room.
Clarke doesn’t see Lexa again that afternoon, but she calls out a goodbye when she decides to call it a day, surprised when she receives a muffled one in return. Clarke had been half hoping to see the girl again before she left, but apparently Lincoln’s roommate is very good at secluding herself.
She makes her way back across campus towards her apartment building, finding herself joined by Raven, who is returning from a shift at the auto shop in town. Raven’s covered in car grease, and slings an arm around her friend as she relays her latest triumph over one of her egotistical coworkers. Clarke doesn’t really understand why her friend bothers with her engineering degree, seeing as the girl’s passion is clearly in working as a mechanic. But she’s no stranger to parental pressure, so she doesn’t question Raven’s choices.
When the pair reach their apartment and Clarke swings the door open, they are greeted with the sight of Octavia once again attached to a shirtless Lincoln’s lips.
“You know two other people live here, right?” Clarke sighs, walking inside.
Raven scrunches her nose up teasingly at Octavia, “If I ever walk in on anything more than this,” she says, gesturing to the pair, “I might just have to blind myself. After sanitizing every surface in this place.”
Octavia at least has the decency to back away from her boyfriend (is he even her boyfriend yet?) upon the return of her best friends, looking over at them with an energetic expression.
“Hey, we would never-”
Clarke and Raven’s eyebrows rise as though it’s been rehearsed, knowing the claim their friend is about to make and ready to recall Octavia’s escapades with Lincoln on their armchair but a month ago. Seriously- Raven and Clarke still hadn’t dared sit on the chair since.
“- okay we would never soberly,” Octavia corrects herself, “Have sex outside of the bedroom.”
“So considerate.” Clarke rolls her eyes, fighting off a smile and walking between the couple on her way to the fridge, “Lincoln, do you own a shirt?”
Lincoln quickly manages to find his shirt, slipping it on, “Sorry,” he mumbles, “I’ll- uh… I’ll leave you guys to it.”
“You don’t have to go.” Clarke says, feeling slightly guilty for her teasing.
“You don’t need to put a shirt on, either.” Raven adds with a smirk.
Lincoln laughs, shaking his head, “It’s cool.” He says, “I’ve got track practice, anyway.”
“Oh, here.” Clarke calls, tossing the key to Lincoln’s apartment to the boy, “Thanks, I really appreciate it.”
“No problem.” Lincoln smiles, following Octavia to the door. The pair exchange a prolonged goodbye before he leaves, Raven offering Octavia a nod of approval once the door closes behind him.
“You know, if I was dating someone with a body like that, I’d be all over him too.” Raven comments reasonably, proceeding to fall onto the couch tiredly, “Clarke!” she mumbles demandingly, voice muffled by the cushions, “Food!”
Octavia giggles, slapping Raven’s ass as she passes, “Maybe shower first?”
Raven is silent for a moment before she repeats her demand, “FOOD.”
Octavia rolls her eyes, turning her attention to Clarke, who is rummaging through the fridge in search of something that isn’t out-of-date.
“So, how was Lincoln’s?” she asks, perching on a stool on the opposite side of the counter and watching her friend.
“Fine.” Clarke mumbles, finally locating the last of the energy bars she’d hidden amongst her shelf. As much as she loves living with her friends, she does not enjoy their shared habit of eating whatever is available to them, ignoring any labels or previous claims one of them may have made on the food. Clarke had learnt very quickly where the best hiding spots were located within their kitchen, knowing not to trust her friends’ late night cravings.
“I knew you hid those!” Octavia exclaims, momentarily distracted, “What ever happened to ‘sharing is caring’?”
“If I didn’t hide food in this apartment I’d starve.” Clarke drawls, “You and Raven’s appetites are worse than a teenage boy’s.”
“We’re growing!” Raven hollers from the couch.
“Well, feel free to stop any time.”
Octavia shoots Clarke a playful glare, resting her chin in her hands as she grins wickedly at her, “So, was Lexa there?”
Clarke chews on her snack, plucking an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter and delivering it to Raven before returning to the kitchen.
“Yeah, she was there.” she nods, “Didn’t know I was gonna be there. Which was awkward.”
Raven’s head appears over the couch then, the brunette holding the apple up with a pout, “Seriously? Fruit?”
“It’s all we have.” Clarke shrugs, “Get showered and we can go hunting.”
Raven lets out a dramatic huff, getting up from the couch and dragging herself towards the hallway where their bathroom resides. Her journey is cut short when her eyes find the energy bar in Clarke’s hand.
“So, what’d you think of her?” Octavia continues, eyeing Clarke curiously.
“Of Lexa?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you trying to hook Clarke up again?” Raven asks, quickly reaching over Clarke to tear off a piece of her snack, “Are we forgetting how badly it went last time?”
Clarke narrows her eyes at the significantly smaller amount of energy bar left, pouting before taking a bite.
“Hey, Katie was nice.”
Raven snorts, “Yeah, for a crazy bitch.”
“She wasn’t crazy…” Octavia argues weakly, “She was just… passionate.”
“O, she literally gave me a framed picture of herself after two weeks of dating.” Clarke drawls, pulling her snack out of Raven’s reach when the girl tries to tear off another piece.
“Ugh, whatever.” Octavia gives up, “Anyway, I’m not trying to set you up with Lexa.” She rolls her eyes, “I’m just curious about what you thought.”
“We talked for like two seconds.” Clarke shrugs, “She’s not the most social person in the world.”
“She’s hot though.” Octavia says, “Like, really hot.”
Clarke hums her agreement, finishing off her bar, “I won’t deny that.”
“Is she into girls?” Raven asks, “Not that I don’t rate Clarke’s ability to turn someone but… blondie is out of practice.” She grins at the glare Clarke trains on her.
“I don’t know, actually.” Octavia frowns, tilting her head, “I mean, I’m not usually chatting with Lincoln’s roommate when I’m over at his.”
Clarke rolls her eyes, “Okay, end of conversation. You’re not playing matchmaker again. Let alone with Lincoln’s roommate. I’ve only just found a good place to study again.”
“Come on,” Octavia whines, “Please? You haven’t even dated anyone since you and Finn broke up.”
“Uh huh. Finn. Who you introduced me to. Who then proceeded to cheat on me.” Clarke deadpans, “Are you understanding why I don’t want you playing matchmaker again yet?”
“She has a point.” Raven shrugs.
“Ugh, fine. No matchmaking.” Octavia huffs, “Now go have your damn shower so we can eat.”
Raven laughs, obeying the command and heading off down the hall, leaving Octavia eyeing Clarke with an unreadable expression.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Octavia shakes her head, a smile tugging at her lips, “Just… you can’t deny it.” She grins, “Lexa’s totally your type.”
Clarke finds herself back in Lincoln’s apartment a few more times over the next two weeks, but she doesn’t have any additional awkward encounters with the boy’s roommate.
Lexa is quiet, and usually wears a frown when she eventually walks through the door, lost in her own world before she notices Clarke and nods in greeting. Clarke won’t admit to the shameful act, but she might have already memorized when Lexa has hockey practice. And she might have made sure on more than one occasion that her study time clashed with when the other girl would be returning, tight muscles and sweaty skin to bare in her exercise gear. Not that Clarke’s perving on Lexa. She’s just… okay maybe she’s being a little bit of a perve.
They don’t talk past basic greetings, Lexa always retreating to her bedroom shyly or promptly leaving again for whatever else she has planned on her schedule. It confuses Clarke, because usually she’d take any chance to procrastinate; even if it included conversing with a total stranger. And often when Lexa hovers in the kitchen, the brunette seems on the verge of starting conversation. Clarke waits, eyes on her work and pretending she isn’t highly aware of the other girl’s presence, but then she will eventually hear feet pad away and Lexa’s door shut softly. Clarke pretends she’s not disappointed every time.
When they do finally have their first conversation, it’s a late Wednesday morning. Clarke assumes the place to be unoccupied when she settles herself at the table, but twenty-minutes into working on her latest piece for her art journal, Lexa walks into the kitchen.
Clarke looks up and is greeted with the endearing image of Lexa in pajamas, with wild hair pointing in every possible direction. The other girl pauses when she notices Clarke at the table, but it only takes Lexa a beat to collect herself.
“Good morning, Clarke.” She greets formally, rubbing at her eyes and heading straight for the fridge. Clarke would be impressed by Lexa’s apparent coolness, if it weren’t for the very obvious blush that tints the hockey player’s cheeks over her attire.
“Morning.” Clarke hums back, pretending to be focused on her sketchpad and not on how cute the other girl looks half-awake, “Cute outfit.”
Lexa meets Clarke’s eyes with an embarrassed blush, “Thank you.” She mumbles.
“I thought athletes woke up early.”
Lexa retrieves a carton of milk from the fridge, green eyes finding Clarke with a hint of a smile when she turns back around to place it on the counter, “How do you know I’m an athlete?”
Clarke pauses at that, realizing that she really probably knows more about Lexa than their minimal conversations with one another would allow.
But, curiosity got the better of her, and Clarke may have done a little digging when Lincoln joined them for movie night the week earlier. In the process, she’d discovered that Lexa is on a similar scholarship to Lincoln’s, only for hockey.
“Just a guess.” Clarke answers innocently, pencil running along her page, “There’s the flyer on the fridge, as well…”
Lexa regards Clarke curiously before putting together a bowl of cereal, walking over to the table and taking the seat opposite the blonde.
Clarke’s surprised, having half-expected the girl to take her breakfast to her room. She arches an eyebrow when a hand reaches out to her sketches.
“Do you mind?” Lexa asks, pausing and waiting for Clarke’s permission.
Clarke nods, smiling softly and watching as Lexa slides it over to herself.
It’s a sketch of Bellamy that Clarke drew a few weeks ago while hanging out between classes with the boy. He was rested back against a tree, trademark charming smile on his lips as he plopped grapes into his mouth.
“You’re an artist?” Lexa queries softly, finger tracing over the drawing absently.
“It’s my major.” Clarke confirms.
Lexa hums out a response, sliding the sketch back over Clarke, “Lincoln’s an artist.”
“Really?”
The other girl nods, “I caught him drawing Octavia the other day.”
A soft smile traces Clarke’s lips at that, feeling comforted by the detail; a small confirmation that the boy’s not just another jock interested in Octavia for vapid reasons.
“You’re talkative, today.” Clarke says, a teasing smile on her lips as she watches the hockey player.
Lexa frowns, swallowing a mouthful of cereal, “I’d hardly call this talkative.”
“Well we’ve passed the usual ‘hi and bye’, so it’s definitely something.”
Lexa’s eyes narrow at Clarke momentarily. She itches her arm anxiously, drawing Clarke’s attention to her tattoo.
It’s almost tribal, and Clarke would be lying if she said the ink didn’t somehow make Lexa that much more appealing. After all, Clarke’s an artist. She can’t help but admire the intrinsic patterns detailed on Lexa’s skin (and maybe how they make her defined arms look even more polished).
“You come here to study, don’t you?” Lexa says, “I figure you don’t want to be bothered.”
“I wouldn’t mind.” Clarke answers, meeting cool green eyes with a shrug, “I’m always up for a decent distraction.”
Lexa regards her for a moment, eventually turning back to her breakfast with a small smile, “Okay.”
After that, Lexa starts hovering a bit more.
It begins with offering Clarke a cup of coffee whenever she ventures out of her room, and leads to Lexa simply sliding one into Clarke’s hands without prompt before she takes the seat opposite.
Lexa is a Political Science major, and takes her studies more seriously than Clarke could ever imagine herself doing. While Clarke huffs and puffs her way through her theory work, Lexa pumps out her latest essay without the bat of an eyelid.
Clarke pretends not to notice how often the other girl’s eyes drift to her own over the screen of her laptop. She also pretends to not notice how her stomach flutters a little whenever Lexa catches herself staring a little too long, the usually composed hockey player’s cheeks reddening as she immediately looks back to her screen.
It doesn’t take Clarke long to realize her new favorite hobby is trying to get Lexa’s lips tugging up into a smile. Which, not to mention, is getting increasingly easier as time goes by. Apparently, Lexa has a bit of a soft spot for Clarke. And judging by the dry way the girl treats Lincoln when he’s around, Clarke’s assuming Lexa’s not the cuddliest person out.
Well, that’s what she assumed up until she met the drunk version of Lexa. That is a whole other story.