#13daysofclexa

Clextober 2019 - Day 8: Vampires/Werewolves

Yours for the (s)taking

In the passing of two millennia Lexa bore witness to mortals in all their frailties and tyrannies and glories, their capacity for greatness and predisposition to selfishness and greed.

Their great beauty, too.

And in this moment, there are none lovelier than the woman in salmon pink scrubs currently blocking the exit to the refrigerated storage room and threatening to summon hospital security if Lexa doesn’t relinquish those two bags of O Negative.

Day 4: Scream

Clextober Day 8: Vampires/Werewolves

“I know what you are.”

“Say it. Out loud.” 

Anon Prompt: “I’m not leaving this place without you.”

—

It was like clockwork. Every Wednesday at 6:45pm the quiet brunette would saunter into the quaint restaurant. It was a small town, the kind of town that if you were born there, you’d likely spend the rest of your life there. This mysterious brunette, though, she stuck out like a sore thumb. It had been short of two months of Lexa being there—her great uncle Alexander had passed away and she was his last known relative. It was supposed to be an “in and out” process—clean the house, list it for sale, box Alexander’s things up, donate them to shelters, and then be on her way, but her stay had extended far longer than anyone would have thought. The house needed some fixing before it could be listed on the market and the process of switching over the title of the house to her name ended up being more complex than it should have been.

This Wednesday was no different than the rest. Lexa walked into the small establishment and took it upon herself to walk past the host station and seat herself. She barely spoke to anyone and always kept to herself, and like every Wednesday before this one, she came alone.

“Your fan club is here,” Clarke heard Miller call from the front of house.

Clarke brushed off the teasing, “Thanks, Miller. Your food’s up for your corner table in the back, better get it out there before they stiff you a tip again.”

The blonde dropped off the tray of food she was carrying to her early-bird diners before she made her way to Lexa’s table—the brunette always sat on the same side of the same exact booth every visit, “Hey there. I’d ask if you wanted to hear the specials, but I already know the answer to that. Double whiskey, straight up and the check?

“If you don’t mind,” Lexa nodded

Clarke grinned, “Never have, won’t start now. I’ll bring it over in a few minutes, the bar shouldn’t have too many orders ‘round this time of day.”

Lexa nodded again as she watched the blonde walk off to put her order in with Octavia behind the bar. She found herself bringing her attention away from the waitress, her insides started to twist—she was hungrier than she should have been for the time of day. She looked down and laid her eyes on the gold watch that adorned her wrist, cursing at herself for skipping lunch earlier for the sake of getting a paint job done and over with.

Not even a minute had passed before the blonde reappeared, setting her drink down next to her check and joked, “Sure you don’t want to hear tonight’s specials?” She looked over her shoulder to the older couple eating their dinner, before turning back to Lexa, “Johnny and Cath over there are sure loving Murphy’s meatloaf.”

Lexa peered over Clarke’s shoulder, wincing at the sight of the meat mushed around their plates, “Never have, won’t start now.”

“Alrighty then, Lexa. Enjoy your whiskey. Maybe one of these days I can convince you to stay for dinner, too,” the blonde laughed.

Lexa took a sip, “Doubt it, the food here… It’s not really up my alley.”

Clarke nodded, though she wasn’t sure why she did. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why Lexa frequented the restaurant every week if all she wanted was a glass of cheap whiskey, “You know there are other places in town you can go to get a drink, right?”

“I can stop coming here, if that’s what you’re insinuating,” the brunette set her glass down on the table and looked straight into Clarke’s eyes.

The blonde inhaled deeply—Lexa was extremely difficult to read, but from what she gathered, the woman didn’t mean any malice behind her words. If anything, it seemed as if Lexa had taken a liking to her, especially from seeing her around town and barely speaking two words to anyone else, “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re an easy customer. Same day every week, same order, you leave when you’re done so you don’t hog up my tables, and you tip 100% of your check every time. I’d be an idiot to tell you to stop coming here.”

The brunette nodded, “So why the suggestion?”

“Just wasn’t sure if you’ve ventured around town. Maybe one of the bars would be more your scene, you don’t necessarily strike me as the type to be surrounded by the dinosaurs that come through this place,” Clarke shrugged.

“Well then, that’s appreciated,” Lexa let out a small smile, “I get along with dinosaurs quite well, though.”

Clarke raised a brow, “You have a sense of humor,” she pointed out. “Who woulda thought?”

“I’m an old soul, at heart,” Lexa said, bringing the glass to her lips again.

The blonde smiled, “I gathered that the second you walked in here that first time. There’s something about you. I can’t quite place it yet, but I’m sure in time I will. But that’s enough out of me, I’ll let you enjoy your evening treat.” Clarke tapped the table with her pen, “I’ll come back around to say bye before you head out—if that’s okay with you.”

“Sure,” Lexa nodded before turning her attention away from Clarke, looking back down at her watch again.

It was ten after seven—she had about fifty minutes to make it back home before her dinner would be ready. Just a few more weeks. After that, she’d be able to go back to her real home, back to the life she was used to. This short stint in Arkadia would be behind her, and so would the facade she had been having to keep up over the long few weeks.

She was jostled out her thoughts at the sound of a glass breaking. She looked up and noticed Clarke hovering over a table in the back in a heated argument with a customer, the brown-haired man was clearly inebriated, likely the cause of the glass shards lining the table. She waited a little longer, watching how her server was able to hold her own. It wasn’t until the man placed his hands around Clarke’s wrists that Lexa’s body went into overdrive.

In a matter of seconds, Lexa was standing next to Clarke, she now had a grasp on the man’s hand, “Let go.”

“Lexa?” the blonde was astonished, she hadn’t even realized the woman was standing right next to her.

“Get your hand off of me, you whack job,” the man huffed, trying to shake Lexa off as he still had a hold on the blonde.

“Now,” Lexa stated, “before I rip your hand off her myself.”

“You can’t threaten me like that,” he scoffed, still not loosening his grip, even under the brunette’s ice cold grasp.

“I believe I already did,” there was an esurient look in her eyes, her hunger pangs from before had been exponentially amplified. As the man finally let Clarke’s hand free, the small trail of blood running down her palm gave her a resolution as to why.

Lexa jumped back at the sight, looking down again at the small cut on Clarke’s hand, moving her eyes to the blonde’s, “Are you okay?”

All Clarke could do was nod—so much had happened in such a short period of time. Finn, the angry town drunk set his hands on her, Lexa appearing out of thin air and threatening the man on her behalf, and now, the brunette looked absolutely disgusted by her.

“Go home, Finn. You’re drunk,” Clarke said, tapping the man’s chair with her foot, then turned her attention to Lexa, “Thanks, I need to go get this wrapped up.”

“Yeah, okay. I should get going soon,” Lexa nodded, unable to look straight at the blonde.

Lexa made her way back to her booth to finish the rest of her drink. She watched from her seat as the man slapped a few bills and change on the table—to be frank, she was surprised he even did that. Her eyes never left the man, something he had realized on his way out. She took notice that he stood near the front door, lighting a cigarette, and she couldn’t help but wonder why he was still sticking around. The sound of someone clearing their throat brought her attention back inside the restaurant.

“You’re still here,” Clarke observed, zipping the front of her jacket.

Lexa nodded, taking the last swig of whiskey from her glass, “I am, and by the looks of it, he is too.”

“He’s drunk and he’s an idiot, but thank you again for that,” Clarke managed to smile. She brought her hand up to push a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and Lexa was glad to see that her cut had been bandaged up.

“You don’t have to thank me, I was just doing what was right.”

Clarke pursed her lips, “Right, well I’m going to head out. The boss said I could go home after all that, Octavia will be by to pick up your check. See you same time next week?”

Lexa looked out the window again, the man was still lingering near the door, “Is that the best idea? It looks like he’s waiting for you or something.”

“I’m a big girl, Lexa, I’ll be fine.”

“Let me walk you out, at least. This town is so small that we’re probably heading in the same direction,” Lexa offered, though her expression was still stoic.

“Really,” Clarke shook her head, “I’ll be okay, he’d be an idiot to try anything like that when there are people all around.”

“Clarke,” Lexa emphasized the blonde’s name, “he already grabbed you in a restaurant full of people. Not for nothing, but no one batted an eye. Let me walk you until he’s at least out of sight.”

The blonde took her bottom lip between her teeth, she knew Lexa was right, but there was also something about the woman that had her wondering if her suggested idea would be her best option—there was something about her, something that she still couldn’t quite place, and she didn’t like the feeling.

Before Clarke could respond, the brunette added, “I’m not leaving this place without you.”

“If you insist,” Clarke gave in, “but your uncle’s place is before mine, so I don’t need you to walk me the whole way.”

---

Lexa was reserved as the two walked, but that didn’t surprise Clarke one bit. Her uneasiness started to dissipate once she realized Lexa was really trying to help—Finn had still been outside the restaurant as the pair left, the drunk man screamed profanities at both women as they walked past him.

They had gone on in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Clarke spoke up, “So are you some sort of chef or something? You only eat the food you prepare yourself?”

“Huh?” Lexa looked over to the blonde, her hands were buried deep in her pockets and her head had been buried deep in her thoughts of why she insisted on walking with the woman in the first place.

“You’ve been to the restaurant every week and you’ve never ordered a thing. There aren’t many places to grab food around here and you don’t have a car, so I just assumed you preferred your own cooking to anyone else’s,” the blonde pointed out.

Lexa stopped walking, “How do you know I don’t have a car?”

Clarke shrugged, “Small town.”

“Right,” Lexa nodded, starting to walk again, “And I get my food delivered fresh every day.”

“One of those fancy farm-to-table meal services, huh? Clarke grinned, “Too rich for my blood.”

Lexa winced at the last word that left the blonde’s mouth, “Something like that.” The brunette looked around and realized that they were no longer going in the direction of Alexander’s home, “I thought you said my uncle’s place was on the way.”

“It was,” the blonde blushed, “I got kind of creeped about Finn so I kept walking, I’m sorry. I hope you don’t mind, it’ll only be a five minute walk back for you, though. We can part ways here if you’d like.”

“I didn’t know you were capable of such trickery,” Lexa smirked, “It’s fine, I have time before I have to be back,” she looked at her watch—she had about thirty minutes to get home and finally eat before her hunger would take the best of her.

“Thank you,” Clarke smiled, reaching into her purse to pull out a set of keys.

“You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

Clarke shrugged, “I know I don’t know you, but something tells me you wouldn’t have done that for just anyone.”

“I suppose you’re right about that,” Lexa stopped at the bottom of the steps leading to the front door of a modest craftsman-style house.

Clarke opened the door and walked in, turning around to see Lexa awkwardly standing at the base of the stoop, “What are you doing?”

“Well, I was going to head back now that I know you got home okay,” Lexa said, shuffling her feet.

Clarke nodded, “Well, I don’t want to be too forward, but since you want me to stop saying ‘thank you’ I figured I could do something nice for you. I have a pretty decent bottle of whiskey in here—tastes much better than what you drink at the restaurant. Stay for one?”

“Oh,” Lexa was honestly surprised. She knew she had enough time for one drink before having to be home, but something inside of her kept her at the bottom of the steps, keeping her from taking a step forward, “that does sound nice.”

Clarke arched a brow, “So what are you still standing there for?”

Lexa’s mind raced at how to tackle the conversation. There was something burning inside of her, wanting to step inside the home and be closer to Clarke—she knew it was partly because of the experience at the restaurant which fueled her hunger, but it was also partly because out of all the people in this small town, Clarke had been the only welcoming person towards her. She took a breath and cursed herself for how forward she was about to become, “I’m waiting for you to invite me in.”

The blonde was thoroughly confused, “I thought I just did.”

“I need you to say it,” Lexa sighed.

“Okay,” Clarke exhaled, still confused and now hoping she wasn’t having a lapse of judgement about inviting the woman in front of her into her home, “Lexa, would you please come inside for a drink?”

The brunette’s legs started to mindlessly move towards the door and into the house, “I only have twenty-five minutes, but I’d love to.”

****

Clextober19 - Day 3 - Monster Mash

A terrible plague has left the planet’s population divided between zombies and humans.

When an unusual zombie named L sees her walking-dead brethren attacking a living woman, she decides to rescue her. The woman, Clarke, sees that L is different from the other zombies, and the pair embark on an unusual friendship.

As their bond grows, L becomes more and more human and Clarke finds herself entertaining two unthinkable possibilities: one, maybe all hope is not lost for humanity after all; and two, she may be falling in love with a zombie.

It’s you, isn’t it?

Clarke Griffin had always been more than a bit strange.

At least, that’s what the residents of her sleepy Massachusetts town she grew up in always said.

“Clarke, give it to me. You know it’s my shirt.” Lexa held out her hand expectantly as Clarke clung to the orange and white flannel top. 

“Not true,” Clarke protested, moving the shirt behind her back and staring at Lexa. “You borrowed it from me last year and now I’m taking it back.”

Lexa made a desperate grab for the shirt, her fingers only brushing the edges of the soft material before it disappeared behind her roommate. 

“Clarke, it is the softest most comfortable shirt in the world. And. It’s. Mine.” Lexa punctuated each word with a swap at Clarke’s arms.