#clexanya

Raven Reyes had very little patience for unnecessary aggression in her friend group, especially when that aggression was just a smokescreen for something else. So to say that Clarke and Anya's ongoing abrasiveness was both exhausting and frustrating would be putting it lightly. She'd put up with it because Clarke was her best friend and Anya was growing to be a good friend as well, but it was time for it all to come to an end.

After a week of planning with Niylah and Lexa, she was sure that the latter's Christmas party would be the end of it. For better or worse, the conflict would be over for good. With a little extra help from Lincoln, Octavia, and everyone's favourite teenager Aden, she had high hopes that it would end well, even if it was sure to be a bit rocky.

Okay, pretty damn rocky.

She just had to hope that what her instincts were telling her was true. Everything was riding on that. Well, that, her tech, and the hope that Lexa would be able to handle any fallout from it all.

There was little that Anya hated more than winter. The bitter cold, the ridiculous piles of snow that would fall, the terrible driving conditions, the relentless holiday music that would seem to follow her everywhere she went, the depressingly few hours of sunlight...it was all miserable.

So maybe she just wasn't feeling it, standing in the corner of the living room at Lexa's Christmas party. If her favourite person in the world couldn't fully cheer her up in the middle of winter, she wasn't sure what could. Of course, the presence of one Clarke Griffin certainly didn't help anything, Anya's eyes turning to focus on a random wreath on the wall as the other blonde went to pull Lexa into a kiss.

She wasn't jealous, per se. Lexa was her best friend, and if she found happiness with Clarke Griffin, then that was that. Lexa's happiness was far more important than any crush or one-sided romantic love she'd been harboring, which was why Lexa and Clarke were together in the first place. Anya was a grown woman, she could handle her own feelings, and take responsibility for them. She wouldn't let them disrupt Lexa's life for even a fraction of a second.

Besides, as frustrating and grating as Clarke could be to her at times, the woman was radiant, was talented and passionate, wonderfully kind to most people who weren't Anya, and could always find a way to get Lexa smiling. Very importantly, despite the stormy emotions Anya seemed to bring out in the woman, Clarke never openly pressured Lexa to stop spending time with her, never gave Lexa ultimatums or tried to control Lexa or cut Anya off from her best friend, so that was vital and good. Add to that how Lexa clearly appreciated Clarke's curves, something Anya did not have in abundance like Griffin did, and there was just no competition. Ultimately, she could hardly blame Lexa for spending most of her time with her girlfriend. That was, after all, what girlfriends did.

Again, Anya could deal with her feelings. Any loneliness was her own responsibility, and any sense of abandonment was foolish and certainly not Lexa's fault, or Clarke's for that matter.

It just didn't make any of it easier to deal with. Winter, Clarke Griffin, Christmas, it all drained her so easily. Knowing she'd just have to put up with it, Anya made her way into the kitchen and poured herself some more apple cider, not wanting to get drunk tonight, or at least not while she was still at the party.

Maybe when I'm back home...I don't work tomorrow, so I could afford to have a solid hangover... She mused to herself as she turned and made her way back to the living room, not really paying attention to the people around her until the sound of jingling bells sounded above her, robbing the majority of her patience with it.

Raven had installed these absurd mistletoe sensors above every entrance or doorframe that would sound out when two people crossed under them at the same time. Honestly, Anya wouldn't put it past Raven to have a camera recording a set period of time from when the alarm sounded, to make sure everyone complied afterward. Why Lexa had approved them was an utter mystery to her, but when Anya turned her head and saw the other person, she had a feeling that 2017 really was the worst year ever, Clarke Griffin glaring back at her and looking entirely apprehensive.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Anya muttered in a quiet breath, eyes wincing shut as she tried to control the annoyance brewing inside of her at her atrocious luck.

"Don't blame me, you're literally the last person in this party that I'd kiss if I had a choice, but it's Lexa's house rule. All she wanted for Christmas was this damn party, so...whatever." Clarke shot back angrily, somehow having caught her words despite the loud rendition of 'Jingle-Bell Rock' playing in the background.

Anya shook her head in disdain, but knew that disappointing Lexa was not an option. Begrudgingly, she leaned forward, brushing her lips against Clarke's for a fraction of a second, applying only the tiniest bit of pressure before storming back off to her corner in the living room, needing some time to let her frustration with the situation flow out of her.

The softness of those lips definitely didn't haunt her thoughts for the next ten minutes.

Peaches. Of course Anya tasted like peaches. Anya had to taste like her favourite fruit; not blackberries, or dragon fruit, but goddamn peaches.

Clarke swiped her tongue across her lips, wondering why the hell Anya layered her lip gloss on so damn heavily, trying to ignore how the tiniest shred of tanginess had her wanting more. Not of Anya, certainly, but if she could find out the brand of lip gloss, she'd maybe be a little happy.

Maybe that would make the night a lot better than it had been. Lexa hosted a Christmas party every year, and so many old friends would come by that her girlfriend hadn't seen in forever, leaving her with precious little alone time with Lexa.

It wasn't necessarily bad, because all the guests made Lexa happy, and that was all that really mattered, but it made it hard for Clarke to stand still and hover, so she'd wander the house instead. She'd already been made to kiss Octavia and Bellamy under the mistletoe, and she kind of really thought that would have been the worst of it until her luck had run dry with Anya.

Truth be told, she couldn't hate Anya. At least, not entirely. Anya had watched out for Lexa, growing up. Anya kept Lexa safe from bullies during her awkward years, she'd been there to listen to and comfort Lexa when her parents were always away. She'd orchestrated an elaborate bit of social manipulation among their high school's major players prior to Lexa coming out, all in order to protect Lexa and make sure no one would consider hurting her. When Lexa needed start-up money for her business, Anya was there with her own money, and plenty of investor friends, to make it an easier process.

So she couldn't hate Anya, not when the woman loved and supported Lexa so intensely, even if that did make Clarke feel a little insecure, being a relative newcomer in Lexa's life. And it didn't help that Anya was usually so coolly polite to her, or that Anya and Lexa always had all morning on Sundays to themselves for some 'BFF' time.

Of course, those long hours with Anya made Lexa happy, so it didn't matter how she felt about it, especially since she was above jealousy or anything so petty as that. It's just that it would be nice to have a full weekend alone with her girlfriend sometimes, which Anya made impossible, even if she hadn’t really brought that issue up before.

Sometimes it had her wondering how she could compete, really. Sure, her logical mind told her that Lexa had chosen her, that Lexa was with her, that they were girlfriends. Still, Lexa and Anya knew each other from birth, had a life-long bond that was unbreakable, and Anya was so often her best self around Lexa, leaving most of her standoffish and cool behaviour when she was alone with Clarke. And as much as she might not like to admit it, Anya was absolutely stunning. After Lexa, Anya was still probably in the top five most beautiful people she'd ever met. Like, the woman could make anything look amazing, and turn anywhere into a damned catwalk, and Clarke wasn't sure that if Anya stepped on her face that she wouldn't do something embarrassing like moan or thank her.

Meanwhile, she had a tiny bit of a tummy, and the stress from the last six months of work had added a few pounds. Not that Clarke didn't appreciate and love her curves and softness, but she knew the kind of women Lexa trended towards. She'd met Lexa's exes; two of them immensely-toned soccer players, one of them a p90x junkie working on Wall St, and the other one was a stunt double that had biceps as big as Clarke's thighs.

To say she was an outlier, and Anya would be a regression towards the mean, would be entirely accurate.

So maybe there was a tiny bit of insecurity she had to deal with, but that was probably just because Anya looked good enough to eat, and apparently tasted equally delicious. If Lexa got a taste, she wasn't sure what would even happen.

"Clarke?" Aden's voice pulled Clarke from her thoughts to the boy standing politely nearby. "Lexa said you wouldn't mind doing a quick portrait of me and my girlfriend? Only if it's not any trouble."

Clarke knew that all her art stuff she kept at Lexa's was in the garage; definitely enough for a pencil or graphite portrait. Paint, she couldn't be sure. "It's not. Why don't you two set up in the recliner? I'll be back in a jiffy."

At Aden's nod, Clarke made her way through the living room and into the kitchen, knowing the garage was just around the corner. She was just nearing the doorway when someone must have tripped and pushed her accidentally, sending her reeling towards the doorframe.

Just as she was losing her balance completely in her regrettably steep heels, someone turned the corner into the kitchen just in time for her to collide into them, strong arms swiftly wrapping around her as they fell against the edge of the doorframe, jingle-bells sounding above them.

"Again?"

Clarke had been a half second away from apologizing and thanking the stranger for catching her, but the sound of Anya's voice, all saturated with disbelief and weariness, quickly had Clarke changing her tune.

"Don't blame me, someone shoved me at the doorway. Find the nearest plastered person and give them that glare, I don't deserve it." Clarke argued pre-emptively, jaw setting to the side and she stared up at Anya expectantly, the other woman thankfully helping Clarke back to her feet and stability. It was a little odd that the woman's arms hadn't left her waist, but Clarke was still teetering on her heels a bit, her buzz from earlier not cooperating with her shoes. "Well, at least you're not a completely heinous bitch."

"Oh, no? I suppose I still have something to strive for then." Anya shot back with a healthy heaping of sarcasm and a roll of her eyes. "Let's just get this over with."

It wasn't all that much different from the previous time, Anya's head leaning forward just enough for those aggravatingly peachy lips to graze her own. However, there was maybe a tiny bit more pressure this time around, Anya's lips lingering a fraction longer before the woman was storming off through the kitchen, leaving Clarke to her task again.

But as she moved through the house and into the garage, she could feel it. It'd been maybe ten or twelve minutes from the previous kiss, but she could feel the gloss on her lips. For whatever reason, Anya was determined to be wearing something tasty in case she got caught with someone under the mistletoe.

Or, maybe I'm just being paranoid...

It took a little longer than the few seconds expected to find her materials, not usually having two vehicles in the garage, Lexa having needed to move her things around a bit to fit both inside.

Still, she managed to find her art kit with all her pencils and pastels and graphite after a brief minute or so of searching. A few seconds later she had her art pad to match, and a head full of hope that she could give Aden and his girlfriend something cute for Christmas.

Clarke opened the garage door, only to bump straight into Anya, the goddamned sound of jingle-bells resonating through the space again. Clarke glared up at the device and swore she saw a camera. She'd have to interrogate Raven about it later.

"God damnit, what the hell is wrong with you? Are you stalking me?!" Clarke yelled, glaring down her girlfriend's best friend as Anya set a cooler down onto the ground and stepped deep into her personal space.

"Don't flatter yourself, princess. You know as well as I do that I was given the duty of shuttling the alcohol between the garage and kitchen, since I'm not drinking tonight. What the hell are you doing here?" Anya demanded, the venom in her voice coming off as an accusation, as if she'd planned this.

Clarke shoved Anya away, the woman colliding against the opposite side of the doorframe with a wince and the slightest of gasps. "Fuck you! Aden wanted a portrait drawn up, and my art supplies are all out here. Like I'd ever lurk around corners trying to lure you into a mockery of a kiss."

"Just stay away from me after this." Anya grit out, closing the distance, hand knitting in her hair as she was pulled closer, enough for the other woman's lips to press firmly against hers for a half second.

Clarke was too busy being dumbstruck by the presence of more damned lip gloss to do much of anything as Anya pushed past her and into the garage, seeking out the treasure trove of booze all the partygoers had brought with them. She held back a few choice words about the woman's persistence with the damn lip gloss, knowing it'd only give Anya more questions, and lead to more confrontations.

She shook her head and stormed off to the living room, the sight of Aden and his girlfriend immediately pushing any memory of Anya to the back of her mind. "Alright, let's do this. You two get comfy, okay?" Clarke asked them as she dragged a footrest over and sat on it.

That solace only lasted a minute, her tongue sweeping across her lip by habit as she sketched, dragging the tasty lip gloss with it. Clarke took a few seconds, closing her eyes, and tried to just empty her mind of the annoying woman she inexplicably kept running into, as well as the sort of delightful pressure of her lips the last time around.

It was still early in the night. She hoped her run of bad luck wouldn't continue much longer.

Anya let out a loud huff after her sixth trip to the garage to restock the tiny alcohol bucket. Lexa didn't want too much at the ready, so it kept running out pretty quickly, meaning she'd have to go get more. Which, of course, meant being extra cautious in case someone was about to run into her under another goddamn mistletoe.

Not that she hated kissing. Far from it, really, she just felt awkward kissing friends, and wanted to avoid kissing non-friends, and the whole thing made her feel horrible when she was set up to kiss someone who was partnered up.

Kissing Clarke Griffin three times already tonight was hopefully an anomaly she would avoid for the rest of the night, not just to spare herself the guilt of encroaching on Lexa’s relationship, but to spare her self-esteem. Honestly, if she hadn't been depressed enough before, Clarke certainly knew where to pick her shots, making her out to be some sort of gross creature. The woman would never initiate, never even apply the slightest pressure into the kiss, never even touch her unless it was to shove her away in repulsion.

Most people's remarks she could brush off with ease, but it was harder when those people meant something to Lexa. And Lexa loved Clarke, so what did it say about her that Clarke thought she was a heinous bitch, too gross and reprehensible to be anything but a last choice?

Maybe if the thoughts and words and actions weren't sincere, maybe if it was just a performance, Anya would be fine with it in some contexts far enough distanced from reality. It wasn't as if she hadn't dipped her toes into the occasional bit of kink and BDSM, after all, but this was actual hatred, this was someone who actually felt okay and righteous in demeaning her.

"Why so glum?" Lincoln asked, suddenly appearing at her side, shooting her one of those annoying inquisitive stares that made it a hundred percent clear that he was worried and determined to get to the bottom of it.

Anya shook her head, hoping to shake off the emotions written on her face as well. "Not glum. Tired. Been a long day."

"I don't buy that for a second." Lincoln noted casually, leaning up against the counter beside her. "What's up? Not enjoying the party?"

"It's packed. It's loud. This place is a mistletoe minefield. People keep asking me to find things for them. Octavia won't stop requesting Jingle-Bell Rock. Take your pick." Anya answered calmly, trying to achieve some level of zen to throw him off her scent, which her growing headache was making difficult.

No such luck. "Yeah, the mistletoe stuff's a bit much, but it's been funny. A lot of awkward kisses." Lincoln said, pinning down her real issue easily, not that he wouldn't have had she not mentioned it. He had a strangely accurate intuition. "Don't feel guilty if you got caught under it with someone's partner, Anya. I know you, but you have to let that go. It's all in good fun, it's not any kind of infidelity."

And okay, maybe she did find mistletoe annoying for that, even if she wasn't sure she'd go as far as calling it infidelity unless there was intent. It wasn't the real issue at hand, though. "I know, Lincoln. It just hasn't been good to me tonight."

Lincoln looked like he was about to respond when suddenly Octavia broke into her field of vision, tugging hard at her boyfriend's arm. "Lincoln! We need you in the living room!" Octavia yelled over the holiday music, giving him another tug.

He looked at her helplessly, clearly not thinking it was good to go. All Anya could offer was a roll of her eyes and a shooing motion with her hands, letting him know she was good with it, not that he didn't peek over his shoulder at her worriedly as Octavia ushered him away.

Lincoln really was a worrywart, but he meant well.

Her job done for the moment, Anya cautiously made her way out of the kitchen and to the small half-bath on the main floor to just catch some breathing room and clear her head a bit.

Anya opened her bag, redoing where her makeup had worn off, figuring it was as good as war paint out there, given the situation. Once she was satisfied, she began tossing all her tools and products back into her bag, only to hear a rapid knock at the door just as she clamped her bag closed and slung it over her shoulder.

Not wanting to leave some drunk person to vomit or piss out in the halls of her best friend’s home, Anya rushed to the door and swung it open, pushing past the person who immediately went to slip in. The bell sound jingled again above them from the mistletoe hanging just inside the room, but as soon as Anya saw who it was, she wasn't about to wait. She could disappoint Lexa this one time. Just this once, given Clarke had done so already.

"Anya, get back here, I need to pee!" Clarke yelled after her, stilling her halfway down the hall.

"Then by all means, Clarke, don't let me stop you." Anya spoke, staring over her shoulder at the other blonde, who was clearly both struggling physically and furious.

In need of something to wash the sour experience from her mouth, Anya found her way into the kitchen, pouring herself some apple cider and heating it up in the microwave since the main jug had long gone cool. Thankfully, some sort of Christmas karaoke was going on in the living room leaving the kitchen empty.

Anya checked her watch and groaned, knowing she had a fair bit of time left until the party would disperse.

Eventually, the microwave dinged, and she pulled out her steaming cup of cider just as Clarke stormed into the kitchen.

"You!" Clarke hissed, stomping over to her and deep into her personal space. "You will not ruin any of this for her!"

Anya honestly couldn't help but let out a sharp laugh at Clarke's gall. "I figured with your behaviour that I'd do you a kindness. Spread the blame around a little so she could put me in the proverbial doghouse instead." Anya noted calmly as she strolled past Clarke, hoping the tiny sun room at the back of the house was free.

"Are you kidding me?" Clarke let out with an annoyed grunt, marching after her. It was the sharp tug at her arm as she left the kitchen that had Anya spinning backward, hot cider splashing over her chest as she braced herself against the doorframe just in time not to stumble back into Clarke.

The sound of bells probably filled the air, but all Anya could hear was the blood thrumming through the veins at her temple like a battle drum as she controlled her reaction, not wanting to show pain in front of her apparent adversary. If Clarke was so insistent, then she'd take the searing pain across her neck and chest for now and be done with it. "Fine, Clarke. Do your worst."

"That's...I didn't mean...I don't want this any more than you do, but Lexa told us all the rules for the mistletoe. This is her day. This is her gift." Clarke insisted, as if Anya actually needed the reminder.

"I know, Clarke. I'm not stopping you." Anya growled, shaking her arm free from Clarke, leaving them inches apart, making sure that Clarke would have to put in all the effort needed, that she'd have to start from scratch.

Clarke glared at her, though that glare flickered after a few seconds passed, replaced with growing confusion. "Then let's get it over with."

"Yes, let's." Anya agreed, holding Clarke's hard stare, not moving a goddamn inch.

The other woman lingered, waiting, and let out a frustrated sigh after a few more uneventful seconds passed. "What are you waiting for?"

"You." Anya stated flatly, rolling her eyes at Clarke's immediate confusion. "Clarke, you've made it abundantly clear that I'm the last person you'd ever want to kiss out of anyone here, but I'm not going to do all the work. Each time, I initiated, I kissed, you just stood there and took it. I don't call that participation, and it's actually very uncomfortable for me, so unless you want to keep eating your words, you can buck up and get it done. Even a cheek kiss would suffice."

Clarke recoiled at the accusation, anger flashing in her eyes. "Excuse me, but maybe I'm not a fan of kissing someone like you!"

"And you think I want to kiss someone who thinks I'm heinous and disgusting?" Anya fired back, jaw setting to the side when Clarke just laughed.

"So this is all about your ego?" The woman asked with a cold grin. "Actually, of course it is. Why would I expect anything else?"

Unnerved by the strange accusation, given her ego had never really been anything worth noting, Anya leaned back against the doorframe, arms crossing her chest. "This is about you treating me like I'm some leper, like you're going to catch something from me. Grow up...if you can kiss Bellamy and still manage to treat him like a human being after he practically stalked you for four months, I'd think you could do the same for me, given I've never done anything to you."

Clarke's jaw dropped, eyes narrowing as the woman tilted her head to the side slightly. "You've never liked me."

"Jesus Christ." Anya let out with a sigh, shaking her head at Clarke's obliviousness. "You frustrate and annoy me to no end. You find subtle ways to complain about any time Lexa and I spend together when we're best friends. Your taste in music is insufferable, you put pineapple on your pizza, and you leave dirty dishes in Lexa's sink far too often for my comfort. And sometimes, yes, I don't like you...sometimes. Like now. But you are still a good person, Clarke. Wonderful, even, sometimes. Lexa would never love you if you weren't, and I never would have advised her on your first few dates if I didn't wholeheartedly approve of you. So get your head out of your ass for once in your damn life."

By the end of her rant, she was breathing a little heavily, and maybe the pain from the burn had forced some moisture to her eyes, but she stood her ground, waiting as Clarke's face twisted, all that hostility falling away to confusion and something else that Anya might have tentatively decided was regret if she wasn't so cynical.

"Really?" Clarke eventually let out, voice thick and low, sapphire eyes staring at her with an expression that she couldn't quite translate.

"Clarke, focus. You're the one who forced the kissing issue. Can we just do this?" Anya asked, exasperated and really in need of changing out of her top and to put something cool over her stinging skin.

Thankfully, the other blonde nodded, biting her lip before gently tugging at Anya's arms. Anya let them drop to her side as Clarke peered into her eyes, as if she was looking for something. What it was, Anya couldn't say as Clarke brought a hand up, cupping her face, thumb stroking her cheek, fingertips massaging the upper reaches of her neck, stealing away any wonder at what the woman might have seen.

Clarke's lips brushed against hers with achingly fleeting pressure once, twice, three times before finally meeting hers in an embrace that had her body reeling. If not for Clarke's other hand cupping her elbow, she wasn't sure how well her balance might have held up as soft curves pressed up against her, the hand at her cheek gliding back to comb through her hair and smooth down her neck with delicious pressure before Clarke stepped away.

Which would have felt wonderful in most other circumstances if Clarke hadn't run her hand across the newly burned skin as she stepped away, forcing out a regrettable hiss of pain.

"Anya, what's...oh my god, is your skin normally that red?" Clarke asked with growing panic. "Shit, of course it's not, come on, there's a first aid kit in the bathroom down the hall."

She quickly found herself being tugged out of the kitchen by the hand, Clarke leading her down the hall to the bathroom. Getting her burn treated, as minor as it might be, was probably a good thing, but her mind might have still been a little stuck on that kiss.

Still, she managed to push that to the back of her mind as they entered the washroom in single file, her long years of discipline more than capable of tamping down on any thoughts or feelings for now.

"How in the heck did you burn yourself, anyways?" Clarke asked as she gently pressed a cool cloth to the burned area, leaning in close enough to where she could definitely make out the woman's rosy raspberry-vanilla aroma. Before, in the haze of having to deal with another run-in with Anya, or in the frustration of being caught under the mistletoe again in general, the scent hadn't registered, but it was very pleasant and oddly fitting.

"Well, I guess it was shortly after I pulled my cup of apple cider from the microwave. I was leaving the kitchen with it, and someone tugged really hard at my arm, and it went spilling all over me." Anya answered, shooting Clarke a wry smile, probably to try and play it off like she didn't blame her, that it was all fine.

Clarke didn't embrace that message, lips curling into a deep frown as she pulled the cloth away to get some fresh cool water in it. "I'm so sorry, I was upset, and I didn't even see you holding the...wait, that mug?" Clarke asked in disbelief, just now noticing Anya was still holding her old Wonder Woman-branded mug in her hand.

"It's tasty cider. My favourite homemade recipe." Anya noted flatly, as if it was offensive to think the woman would have put it down.

"And it's been in your hand the whole time?" Clarke asked, needing some clarification, her pride riding on the answer a little bit.

"Well, yes. I went to the kitchen for a drink, so ever since then." Anya answered slowly, eyes narrowing in confusion as Clarke let out a burst of air, feeling like she'd just had the wind knocked out of her.

Honestly, that Anya could hold a mug of cider steady while being kissed? Said a lot about the quality of it. "I must be losing my touch. Shit. I thought that was a decent kiss."

"It was surprisingly great, actually. I can multi-task, Clarke." Anya shot back, appearing a little amused for whatever reason. Clarke halfway hoped Anya wasn't teasing her and had been truthful.

"Not great enough for you to drop your cup. And surprisingly? Did you think I'd be a bad kisser?" Clarke asked quickly, slightly wringing out the wet washcloth before putting it back on the burned area, taking some comfort in Anya's happy hum.

"I'd only asked you to treat me like I wasn't diseased. I didn't expect that. And no, I did everything I could to hold onto my cup, because if I dropped it, it would have broken, and I'd have to clean and sweep it up, and I would have broken something that wasn’t mine to break. Give yourself some credit that it wasn't easy at all for me, and you did get rid of my headache for a minute or two. Though I have to ask...why four kisses?" Anya clarified, the answers maybe not soothing her wounded pride entirely, even if it did feel better to hear Anya enjoyed it.

Clarke offered a simple shrug, knowing the answer was easy. "You called me out. I didn't kiss back the other times, meaning it didn't count. So I gave you three to make up for those ones, and the fourth for the mistletoe we were under at the time." She explained, earning a slow, thoughtful nod from the other woman. "You really helped Lexa with our first few dates?"

Anya's airy laughter caught her off guard, the sound both unfamiliar and appealing, a very potent reminder that she hadn't really spent a lot of time around Anya in the past seven months she and Lexa had been dating. "She was a wreck. Adorable, but a wreck. The first day she called me about you writing your phone number on the receipt, she was midway through a panic attack, rambling at length about the beautiful woman who'd buy a mocha latte and a cherry turnover." Anya said, eyes slipping shut as she smiled brightly. "Honestly, by the end of the call, I thought I'd gotten her courage up enough for her to call you. It'd been a two hour long phone-call."

Clarke's jaw dropped at the last detail. "You're kidding. She never talks that long."

Anya leveled her with a knowing stare. "About you? Of course she does. Why do you think our Sunday mornings run so long?" Anya asked, brow furrowing when Clarke let out a gasp, as if she could be so unaware of how her words were literally blowing her mind. All this time, she'd been envious, perhaps jealous, especially with how Lexa would talk at length about Anya, but hearing Anya laugh and smile about Lexa rambling adorably about her? She halfway wanted to rush out and throw Lexa into bed, even while her other half wanted to stay exactly where she was and hear more from Anya. "Anyways, so I go to bed expecting her to tell me the good news the next day at lunch. But instead, she doesn't show, and I get another call that evening. Another hour and a half. Rinse and repeat, basically, for the next six days until I finally dragged her into her bedroom, called you on her phone, and forced the issue. So yeah, I've been there the whole time. You won me over forty minutes into the first call, of course I armchair quarterbacked the first few dates. She was a mess."

Clarke was laughing by the end of Anya's spiel, finding it hard to believe her loving and relatively cool-headed girlfriend could ever be so fumbling. "She was not a mess. She was so calm and sweet and wonderful on those dates."

"Clarke, she started crying during that first phone call to me because she was imagining you two kissing each other goodnight. I love Lexa, but she only got more endearingly amusing from there on out. It took a lot of work to prepare her." Anya countered, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes as Clarke just gaped. It did make sense, though, since Lexa had definitely let a few tears fall when she'd kissed her goodnight on the first date.

Honestly, it only endeared her to Lexa more, even if that all raised a few pressing questions about Anya.

"I appreciate it, really. But...I have to ask..." Clarke started, watching Anya's humour vanish into a serious expression, leaving her wondering if Anya might have been psychic or something. Still, she had to know. "You're clearly carrying a torch for Lexa. Like...I don't blame you...and I will say that until now, I've actually been intimidated by that, by what you two have. That's...that's why I've been so hostile around you, I guess. But...I guess my question is...why didn't you try? You had every opportunity."

Anya's defeated sigh and tired eyes told Clarke more than enough, but when the words came, she felt appreciative that she could at least fill in all the blanks. "Lexa will never want me as a lover more than she needs me purely as a friend. It's that simple. I've always looked out for her, I've been her confidant, her 'mom friend'...you have to understand, her parents already regretted her when she came out as trans. When she came out as a lesbian, it was just her, alone. I was all she had for a time, so I never really had a chance to be that to her. I've always been her anchor. I still am, and I love her for it, and I don't regret it. I just know that asking her to love me the way she loves you would put what we have at risk, and she wouldn't ever risk it, so I won't ever ask her to." Anya explained at length, sniffling slightly as she nodded to herself and shot Clarke a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

That wasn't the look of someone with much hope, or recent heartbreak. She recognized it from her mom's eyes whenever she'd talk about dad. Like an old, nagging shrapnel wound from the heartbreak that wouldn't ever really go away, and couldn't ever really get better on its own. That even if someone came by to piece it back together, some pieces just weren't able to be removed due to the risk. Some pieces would always hurt.

"I'll give her away at her wedding, and you'll make her happy 'til death do you part. And then you'll be her anchor, and I'll...I'll figure it out on my end of things. Because she'll be happy, and you'll be happy, and I'll keep being her best friend, and hopefully I'll find someone to call home, too." Anya continued with a voice that made at an attempt at being reassuring even as it was undermined by the thick unstable emotion her words trembled with. Anya tilted her head back as tears rolled down her temples, letting out a wistful sigh that had Clarke's heart feel like it was about to split. "Maybe someone who won't order pineapple on her pizza. That's the dream, I suppose."

It was about as ham-handed an attempt to lighten the atmosphere and distract from a person's overwhelming emotions as Clarke had ever witnessed, but she let it happen, laughing along with Anya, knowing the woman needed it, needed someone to share the moment with, if just for a little bit. And for someone as selfless and loving as Anya, Clarke was more than happy to do that, finding herself surprisingly partway wishing she could be that person for Anya if it didn't mean giving up Lexa or her beloved pepperoni-pineapple pizza.

She'd been so wrong about the woman. Anya had been best friends with Lexa for ages, so of course she'd keep Clarke on her toes and make sure she didn't grow complacent, make sure she kept treating Lexa as she should. Of course she'd play the part of the hard to win-over friend to see if Lexa was worth it to her, to see if any toxic issues like jealousy and insecurity would rule her instead of her love for and trust of Lexa. Maybe she hadn't passed with flying colours, but Anya still gave her a pass. Still approved of her.

"I'm so sorry." Clarke spoke as the laughter died down, letting Anya's exhaustion rise to the surface. The other woman's mouth opened to speak, but Clarke was faster. "Please, just...I'm sorry. For treating you like I did, for making you think I thought less of you. You're...kind of incredible. The complete package, and it wasn't that I was disgusted with you before, I just...you're really intimidatingly beautiful, and your lip-gloss is the tastiest thing ever, and I felt frustrated and guilty that you were making it hard for me. That I was supposed to see you as an enemy of sorts, and I still wanted to kiss you."

Clarke took a deep breath, trying not to feel shaken or excited by the sheer intensity of Anya's soft gaze. "So just...don't lose hope. Because if I could clone myself, I'm pretty sure my clone would swear off pineapple if it meant being lucky enough to have a shot at dating someone like you. There are women out there who're worthy of you, and if they wouldn't jump at the chance to be with you, they'd be idiots."

Anya just shook her head and laughed. "Your clone absolutely would not give up pineapple on pizza, we both know that. And I appreciate the sentiment but...it's not like I've been hung up over Lexa all my life and swore off romance with others entirely. I've been trying to date for the past four and a half years. I just have to hope someone will eventually want me enough. I'm sure it'll happen someday, I don't need any pity just because I haven't found the right one yet."

Clarke ran through her mental list of single friends, pairing each up with Anya and feeling a growing sense of revulsion at each imagined scenario. The thought of a double date with her and Lexa alongside Anya and Raven shouldn't have had Kill Bill sirens blaring in her head, and it certainly shouldn't have had her wanting to take hold of Anya, or dishing out some more amorous action.

She shook her head and took a breath to calm herself, only to still at the strange quiet. There was supposed to be karaoke. Clarke was suddenly unaware when the music had stopped. "We've been gone a while...weird that no one's checked up on us."

Anya opened her mouth to speak and promptly closed it, lower lip sticking out in a confused pout as she tilted her head, the gears clearly whirring in her head. "That is weird. I've been here for over two hours, and there was always someone coming by to talk to me or bump into me every five minutes. It was weird."

Clarke's eyes went wide at Anya's account. "Yeah, you know...the only time I ever really got any uninterrupted time was when I bumped into you. Like, even when I was drawing Aden, people were always coming up to me, asking me to get them stuff from around the house."

Anya rolled her eyes. "Ugh, tell me about it. I was given the job of ferrying booze from the garage to the kitchen, and Lexa's had me heading up and downstairs, going on veritable scavenger hunts whenever Octavia wasn't asking for my help searching for a lost earring, or something. Even when I escaped to the sunroom, I couldn't get a moment of peace, someone always tracked me down within a few minutes."

"Come to mention it, I really couldn't get much time with Lexa tonight. Whenever I could, she was always asking me favors, for me to go grab something, or help someone with something." Clarke noted slowly, some confusing pieces starting to fall into place. "I didn't really notice anyone else that was always on the go except you, really. Sometimes Raven and O and Lincoln, but I'd only really catch them moving around to come check on me, or go talk to you."

Anya's eyes narrowed in suspicion momentarily before the other blonde shook her head, smoothing out her expression. "It's a bit much to think up conspiracy theories."

Clarke shifted her gaze to the mistletoe hanging under the door frame's crown molding for a brief moment before shooting Anya an expectant stare. "Do you really believe Raven installed cameras just to catch a clip of Monty and Miller kissing?" She asked, feeling a shred of victory at how Anya's face scrunched up in clear bewilderment.

"Was that why she...no, that can't be right. She's caught video of those two on her phone before, I remember Lincoln talking about it a month or two ago. She wouldn't go all out with cameras for something like that." Anya answered, the revelation coming as a surprise, given how the two tended to seriously shy away from PDAs. "But...oh...oh. Fuck me." Anya let out with a jagged tone, clearly coming to some frustrating realization.

Clarke wanted to be happy she came to a disturbing conclusion not a few seconds later, but the whole conspiracy theory was getting a bit strange. "We were the only ones running around the house. Way more likely to run into people and trigger the mistletoe."

"More likely to run into each other." Anya added, frowning deeply as she let out a heavy breath. "Clarke, you...you should probably go find Lexa. Talk to her. See what's up, because this...I'm not sure what's going on, and I think it'd be dangerous for me to come to any conclusions."

Clarke nodded, knowing that was probably for the best. She had more than enough ways of getting answers. Still, she had a few things she had to do first, bringing the cloth back under a stream of cool water and wringing it out, needing to make sure Anya's burn was taken care of as she re-covered the sensitive area. Second, she searched around before sticking her hand in Anya's left pocket of her jeans, pulling out her lip gloss.

"First things first." She murmured, ignoring Anya's confused pout as she took hold of the woman's jaw and applied the gloss to her lower lip. Anya's eyes narrowed in confusion, but she rolled her lips together to spread it around.

"O...kay?" Anya asked with a single breathless laugh, Clarke just then noticing how tense the woman's body was, how shallow Anya's breathing was, how much her eyes were blown.

Well...I guess that answers that... She mused to herself as she pulled Anya into a kiss, setting a languid pace as she stroked the beautiful woman's face. She couldn't help but love the peachy taste, adoring how utterly responsive Anya was to each shift in angle, each change in pressure, feeling a deep seated thrill at the tiny mewl that left Anya's throat as she pulled away.

"If they wanted us to kiss, they can't be mad if we do, or if we like it." Clarke insisted, holding Anya's wide-eyed soft gaze, heart thrumming with all the courage and confidence she could want after that kiss. "You go rest up your head, maybe take some ibuprofen, okay? I'll find you when I have answers."

Entirely determined, Clarke spun on her heel and marched out of the bathroom in search of her girlfriend and answers.