Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Adverse weather conditions continue to affect the north of the country. Synoptics predict that the snowstorm will only worsen in the next two days. We advise staying off driving until the visibility improves."

A heavy sigh falls from Lexa's lips as she keeps her gaze fixed on the road. She's been straining her eyes for the past few hours so much that it feels like her contacts are swimming in literal sand. Still, regardless of her efforts, Lexa can barely see past a few feet ahead with all that snow getting heavier by the minute. At this rate, her chances of getting to the hotel in time for check-in are slim at best. But the brunette is too stubborn to give up now, and it's not like she can stop in the middle of the forest. The hotel will probably accommodate a later arrival, she just needs to get there.

The computer announces an incoming call, and when Lexa taps on the screen a voice sounds through the speakers, "Miss Woods?"

"Yes, Tris. Everything alright with Mr. Harrison?"

"He wanted to... and I wasn't sure... to call you..."

"Tris? You're breaking off."

"I don't..." her assistant's voice is barely audible through the mechanical hissing. "Can you..."

"Could you repeat that?"

"I said..." are the last words Lexa hears before the call is cut off, and the woman groans in frustration.

No sense in calling back as the message on the screen informs her about the lack of service. Freaking great. Maybe the decision to attempt outrunning the storm wasn't so smart after all. Almost as if the transportation system was shut down for a reason. What's Lexa achieved anyway? She's hours away from her destination while her car is only about ten minutes away from turning into a giant snowball. Freezing to death in the middle of nowhere without cell service is too significant of a risk even by her standards. Lexa checks the map on the screen, searching for a possible location to wait out the weather. The closest place seems to be a small town that she can reach in twenty minutes or so. The woman quickly goes over her options in her head, resigning to a change of the route a few moments later.

"Welcome to TonDC" a snow-covered sign greets her when she drives off the main road half an hour later. It's already hard to maneuver the car on the narrow streets without getting caught in constantly growing drifts and things are probably only going downhill from here. Lexa's struggling to admit that the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach is right. Looks like she's stuck here until snowplows come. Not the worst place, at least.

Lexa is passing a square in what appears to be the center of the small town. Most buildings are just one- or two-story, a mixture of wood and stone, and the architect in her can't help but slow down the car to appreciate the fabric of this place. Even in the barely remaining sunlight, it looks picturesque, with snow glinting in the orange light of the lampposts adding to a dreamlike atmosphere. Almost all the storefronts are dark, likely closed because of the storm, lights are on only in a couple of places. Her gaze stops at a two-story building with a bench and a potted spruce near the door. A huge window emanates a welcoming glow, attracting customers to what seems like a bakery. The sign is currently completely covered in white, so Lexa can't read the name, but she sees a few tables through the glass and a counter with some baked goods.

She parks in an empty spot in front of the building and gets her purse from the back seat before locking the car. A mouth-watering smell greets the brunette when she opens the front door. The interior is all about natural materials and warm colors, creating a pleasant feeling and compelling you to enjoy your time here. The front is one big room with round tables of different sizes. The right wall is lined up with soft-looking couches and one tall bookcase filled with various titles and knickknacks. There are many shelves around the place, housing plants which are certainly well-cared for. Everything is illuminated by numerous lamps spread all around, making the space cozy.

The one person in front of her in line is taking his time picking his order which gives Lexa a chance to study what the bakery has to offer. A brightly lit display of pastries attracts her attention. There are so many options inside, everything from croissants with different fillings to an array of colorful tiny cakes. It takes a lot more discipline than usual to resist the impulse to buy half of the menu at once.

"Hello, what can I get for you today?" a melodic voice breaks through her thoughts and Lexa's eyes shift to a pretty blonde behind the counter.

The woman looks about Lexa's age, her long fair waves gathered in a low ponytail with a couple of strands left to frame her face. She is offering Lexa a genuinely friendly smile, not the fake ones she's so used to seeing in customer service.

The brunette throws one last glance at the sugary temptations, reining in her cravings and keeping inside a disappointed whine. "Just black coffee for now, thank you."

"Here or to go?"

"Here, please."

"Coming right up," the woman says in a cheery tone.

A moment later a cup of steaming liquid appears in front of her, Lexa pays for the drink and walks towards a table near the window so that she can keep an eye on the changing weather. The brunette sets the cup down on the table, shrugs off her coat, and sinks into a comfy armchair. She doesn't fight a pleased exhale when the slightly bitter taste warms her from the inside. Lexa takes her phone out of the coat pocket and shoots a few quick messages to her assistant. When she tries to access her work email, she quickly learns that it's useless as the single existing bar on her phone is barely enough to load a saved copy of the page, and even that takes nearly a small eternity. Left with no other options for a productive break, Lexa reconciles herself to watching the snow fall through the thick glass while going over the proposal for Mr. Harrison once again to not completely waste the time.

About forty minutes later, the whole presentation has played out in her head and the coffee is almost drained. Yet Lexa still hasn't got a reply from Tris which is rather unusual for her ever-diligent PA. When the brunette glances at her phone, the small line under her message elicits a quiet "damn it" murmured under her breath. Not delivered is about the last thing Lexa needs right now. She holds the phone up, waving it in the air, even though it's clearly a pointless endeavor. Unfortunately, Lexa wasn't gifted with the skill to summon a signal regardless of how much she wishes for it. She sends another round of texts just to be sure, but of course, ten more minutes of wait produce exactly the same result as before.

A clank of a plate being laid down in front of her on the table, accompanied by a friendly voice, distracts Lexa from her useless attempt at getting a hold of work. "Connection is shit during storms here."

The brunette looks up to find the woman from behind the counter standing near her table and a huge plate piled high with various desserts. It's got dark and all the other patrons have gone away during her mental trial run, leaving only her and the blond woman inside. Lexa wonders if her presence prevents the workers from starting the evening clean before clocking off. 

"I'm sorry—" Lexa's searching eyes land on a name tag on the woman's apron. "Clarke. Is it time for me to go? I couldn't make out the working hours on the sign outside."

"Oh, no, don't worry about that." Clarke smiles. "Stay however long you need, I have a ton of work here anyway. Just wanted to bring you some treats to brighten up the wait a bit." She pushes the plate closer to the brunette.

Lexa feels her resolve starting to crack slightly at the image of the perfectly made pastries. A particularly appealing chocolate éclair is practically calling her name. Why must all the tempting things come right up to her?

The blonde notices her hesitation. "Not much of a sweet tooth?"

"Too much, actually," Lexa confesses.

"Well, then you simply must save these desserts from their tragic fate of being thrown away," Clarke chuckles, watching Lexa sending heart-eyes to the plate. "I doubt anyone else is coming here in a storm."

The brunette opens her mouth to protest but to her surprise, completely different words fly off her lips. "You have to join me then, no way I'll be able to finish everything on my own."

Lexa fully expects the woman to decline her suggestion, leaving her to eat her way through to the sugar coma. Hasn't she just said that she had a lot of things to do? But instead, Clarke gives her another smile and says, "Okay. Do you want me to refresh your coffee first?"

"Yes, please."

Clarke returns with two steaming cups a few minutes later, placing one full of black gold near Lexa and another one, so full of milk that it hardly resembles coffee anymore, close to herself. There are also two extra dishes and two sets of cutlery between them now.

Lexa can't help herself. She snatches the éclair before Clarke has a chance to claim it. Is it incredibly petty to steal from the woman who so kindly provided her with all that deliciousness? Sure, it is. But all is fair in sweets and war. Nothing stops Lexa from chastising herself and enjoying her sugary prize at the same time. Mercifully, the blonde doesn't comment on her somewhat savage antics. The éclair is gone far too quickly, but it's so flavorful that it makes the brunette momentarily forget about being trapped in a storm, her work duties, or soon to be the failure of a meeting, leaving her to relish the rich chocolaty aftertaste.

"This is so good!" Lexa exclaims, gesturing with her spoon.

"I'm glad you like it," Clarke says, putting another creation on her plate. "Here, try this one."

It looks fancy, a white mousse on a caramel-colored pastry base. She didn't notice it on display before. Lexa cuts a spoonful of creamy goodness. "Holy—" She's unable to contain a moan escaping her lips when sweetness bursts on her tongue, divine tastes mingling in a unique flavor profile. Lexa may have just found a new obsession in her life, and she didn't even know she was searching. "What is it?"

The blonde is beaming at her reaction. "A pine-infused mousse with mandarin confit on a gingerbread cookie. I'm not happy with the balance of flavors just yet, but I think I'm getting there. Should be done by Christmas. Any comments?"

"You made it?" Lexa wonders how anybody can produce such a culinary masterpiece and thinks it's lacking something.

"I did." The baker nods.

"This is fantastic, Clarke," the brunette mumbles through a mouthful of cream. "Already perfect if you ask me."

"Thank you." The blonde preens under the compliment and bites into her choice of puff pastry turnover.

They spend a while savoring the quiet and their desserts. Lexa devours three more before deciding that it's time to stop this self-indulgence before her blood turns into nectar. She isn't even entirely sure what made her give up her self-imposed restriction because it's been years since the brunette consumed so many sweet things at once. But damn it feels good. It might totally be her imagination high on sugar, but even her body seems a tinge more relaxed than usual. That is before Lexa catches a glance at a phone still lying on the table, returning her from candy land back to reality. She looks out of the window at the empty street where the snow shows no sign of dying down any time soon.

"How long do you reckon till the roads are cleared?" Lexa asks, considering the time it will take her to get to the hotel once she's back on her way.

"Can't say for sure," Clarke says, taking a sip of her drink. "If the snowing eases up tonight maybe a day or two. Three days tops."

The brunette is so distracted by her mental schedule calculations that she almost misses the last words but as soon as her brain processes the information she blurts out, "Did you say days?"

"I did," the blonde sounds unsure, probably wondering what prompted such a reaction. "The roads in town will be fine tomorrow, we have our own snowplow here. But it usually takes them a few days to clear the way up to the highway."

Her calendar, colored in a threatening shade of red, flashes in Lexa's mind. Her schedule is packed, she's supposed to be back to Polis tomorrow evening once she's done with Mr. Harrison, there is a board meeting the next day, a ton of papers for Lexa to sign piled high up on her desk, and a huge stack of reports to go over. She has actual thousands of people depending on her, she can't afford snowstorm disruptions. The internal panic drowning her must be clearly projected on the brunette's face because the baker gently puts her hand on Lexa's forearm.

"Hey, is everything alright?" Clarke's voice is laced with worry.

Not alright at all, Lexa continues her silent freak-out. Okay. She needs to get a grip. Her laptop is safely packed in her suitcase, and lots of work can be done from there, granted she finds a place with working Wi-Fi in the near vicinity. A few days' delay can cost her extra office hours when she's back, but Lexa is no stranger to pulling off all-nighters.

"Sorry, I just didn't expect to be stuck here, I have plenty of work waiting for me at home."

The blonde arches an eyebrow and Lexa can swear she wants to ask what the hell she was doing driving in such weather in this case, but that's not what she says aloud. "Well, I hope we won't keep you too long then. But meanwhile, how about we find you a place to stay? My friend manages an inn, I think you'll be comfortable there."

"Yeah, thank you." Lexa's overreacting brain hasn't gotten to the accommodations stage of a plan yet.

Clarke picks up their plates and cups and moves them to the washing area, saying that she'll get back to clean up and close the bakery later. Lexa feels guilty for distracting the woman from her duties, but she gets brushed off when she offers to help with closing. For the time Lexa was inside, her car had gained a thick white cover as well as the roads. They won't get far by driving, but luckily Clarke reassures her that the inn is nearby. So Lexa takes her things from the trunk and trails behind the blonde through the shin-high layer of snow. She gives up rolling the suitcase pretty quickly, resolving to carry it. The brunette hates moving around with awkward bags, so she got the small suitcase to avoid exactly this annoying scenario. At least she's always been a light packer and this was supposed to be only a short trip.

They do arrive at the place rather quickly and Lexa spends a few moments studying the spacious Victorian-style three-story house. It has a porch with two benches and a small round table. The building looks old but very well-maintained, she can spot a relatively fresh coat of paint even in the evening darkness. She follows Clarke up the steps and into the door she flings open. They find themselves in a hall by an empty check-in desk and Lexa's trying her best not to drip melting snow onto the parquet.

"Linc!" The blonde yells seemingly not caring about disturbing the peace of the house inhabitants. "Are you there?"

Her question is followed by the heavy footsteps upstairs and a faint, "Coming."

Soon they are greeted by a tall muscular man walking down the staircase who offers the women a smile once he comes closer. "Hey Griff, didn't expect to see you tonight."

"Hi again," Clarke gives him a short hug. "This is..."

"Oh, sorry, I guess I didn't give you my name. I'm Lexa."

"Right, this is Lexa and the storm kinda messed up her plans, and she needs a place to stay until the roads are clear, so I brought her to the best inn in town."

"You mean the only inn in town," the man chuckles. "Well, Lexa, of course, we have a room for you. Can I see an ID and a credit card?"

"Thank you," the brunette lets out a sigh of relief, one less problem for today. "Here you are."

"Oh, and she'll need a landline to make some calls."

"A landline?" Lexa asks skeptically. It's surely not a foreign concept to her, but she doesn't remember the last time she used one.

"Yeah, sure, we still have those in our rooms, feel free to use it," the man says, typing on his computer. "Well, you're all set, here is your key. The room is upstairs, I'll show it to you if you follow me, please."

"Do you need me, guys?" the blonde asks.

"Oh, no, thank you, Clarke. I don't want to keep you from your things any longer."

"No problem at all." The woman smiles. "Have a good night then, Lexa. See you tomorrow, Linc." And with that, she's out in the turbulent weather.

Lexa follows the man, Lincoln as he introduces himself, to her room, and thanks him for help before coming inside. She suddenly feels far too exhausted to explore the interior, though she appreciates the cozy atmosphere regardless. No strength left for anything else, Lexa simply fishes out a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt from her luggage left by the door, quickly changes, pulling her hair in a bun after, not even bothering to brush it properly, and flops onto the bed in a pile of stiff muscles. Thankfully the room phone is on the bedside table as hers remains to be just as useless as a couple of hours before. 

"Anya?" Lexa asks when the woman picks up on the fourth ring.

"Oh, good, you're alive," Anya grumbles, but Lexa is able to easily spot the worry underneath her sister's annoyed tone.

"I'm sorry, I got held up because of the storm and connection is non-existent in this weather."

"Well, what the hell else did you expect from that idiotic plan of yours?"

"I had to get to a meeting with—"

She is cut off by Anya's sarcastic tone, "Not sure if you heard, sis, but they invented this magical thing called Zoom, like a while ago."

"You know how he is," Lexa sighs.

"And how many times have I told you that you don't need to accommodate clients' every whim?" her sister counters. "Especially considering that you are goddamned CEO, Lexa!"

The brunette pauses, too aware that her next question is about to add to the simmer of Anya's annoyance. "Has anyone contacted—"

Her sister anticipates her question without a need to hear it in full. "Yes, Tris dealt with your precious client when you didn't show up at the hotel after your weird call. The meeting is rescheduled for next week. And what do you know, he's actually coming to the city himself for some other business, so there was literally zero reason for you to risk traveling in a fucking storm, Lexa."

"Nothing happened, An. I'm okay."

"You can't kill yourself for the stupid job you don't even enjoy," Anya doesn't let up.

The sisters had different versions of this conversation at least a million times since they inherited the company. Anya's been trying to persuade her to go easy with her responsibilities. But Lexa had a role to step into, and she absolutely couldn't let anyone down. There is no place in her thoroughly-scheduled life for deviations from the course. Simple as that. Lexa accepted it a long time ago. If only her sister could finally accept this one day too.

"I don't have any mental energy for arguing today, Anya." Her eyelids are gradually getting too heavy to keep them open.

The weariness in her voice must be quite pronounced to make the woman give up her quest. "Fine. What's the plan now?"

"I have to stay here until the snowplows come. Locals say it might be a couple of days. I'll try to find some place with an internet connection to work tomorrow."

"Where are you even calling from?"

"TonDC, I'm staying in an inn." Lexa covers the handset to yawn.

"Well, enjoy your vacation then," Anya jokes. Lexa's never taken a vacation since she started her job as CEO six years ago, one more thing her sister likes to pester her about.

"Very funny. I'll call Tris tomorrow, oh and can you please check on the Swanson Project."

"You may be surprised, but we all know how to do our jobs here. The sky isn't going to fall just because you are away from the office for a few days."

"But—"

"Yeah, yeah," Anya sighs. "I will check on it."

"Thanks."

"Go to sleep Lexa, you sound terrible. And no driving before the weather is safe."

"Promise," Lexa mumbles, and it's the last thing she remembers before dropping off, lying over the duvet, the handset still clutched in hand.

Chapter Text

The first thing Lexa notes when she blinks awake in unfamiliar darkness is the painful dryness of her eyes as if somebody dumped the entire content of the Sahara Desert there while she was sleeping. Shit, she was so out of it yesterday that she forgot to take her contacts out. A rookie mistake she certainly will be paying for the whole day. Lexa unceremoniously sticks her fingers into her eyes, taking the culprits out, and blinks several times. Not a significant improvement but at least some relief. The woman rolls beneath the covers, somehow during the night she migrated under the heavy duvet, and stretches her arm out to reach the bedside table. She deposits the crumpled contacts there and picks up her phone instead. Lexa has to pull it so close to her face to be able to make out the numbers that it almost bumps her nose. 4:47. Sleeping in unfamiliar places is rarely restful, but this is a new record even for her.

Lexa spends a few minutes blindly staring at the ceiling before letting out a noisy exhale and getting up. She takes her toiletry bag on the way to the bathroom and ten minutes later returns to the big window in her room, having finished with her morning routine. The forecast was evidently not far off as the snowflakes are still dancing in the air at a steady pace, burying the town under a thick layer of snow.

Despite the early hour her body is already craving the cup of coffee it's accustomed to getting first thing in the morning. But it's obviously not an option right now as there is no way for Lexa to get one, so a walk in brisk winter air will have to do. The brunette rummages through her light luggage, pulling out a simple white blouse and a caramel-colored cashmere sweater. The coat she packed was chosen with short trips from the car to a building in mind, not early morning strolls through the snow, but with multiple layers, it probably will suffice. Lexa gets ready with the customary efficiency and gathers her hair in a low ponytail so that it doesn't fly everywhere in the wind.

Dressed to face the harsh weather, the woman quietly exits the room, threading in light steps along the dark corridor and down the stairs so as not to wake anyone up. When Lexa opens the front door and goes outside, the pleasant cool of the frosty breeze coaxes a surprised content sigh out of her. Predictably, nobody had a chance to shovel yet, so she walks slowly through the white blanket, studying the building more thoroughly this time. A couple of them are decorated with carved wooden panels, the intricate designs of skilled craftsmen which catch her eye. The town is serene in its morning slumber, and it's as if Lexa can breathe in the tranquility mixed with air.

Only one building not far ahead has the lights on and the brunette quickly realizes that someone is already working through the morning shift in the bakery. "Coffee," a greedy voice whispers in her mind, but even though she doesn't know what the exact working hours are, 5 a.m. is not the time for receiving customers, that's for sure. So Lexa is fully set on denying the voice its pining, but then a blond figure appears in the window just as she nears it and waves to her as soon as their gazes meet, motioning for her to come in before leaving the spot. The brunette decides to pop in for a quick hello.

Lexa walks past her car, barely recognizable under the fluffy cover, stomps her feet in front of the entry to clean up her boots as best as she can, and pulls the door handle. A soft chime announces her presence as she's brushing off a small pile of snow gathered at the top of her head.

"Good morning," she greets Clarke when the blonde comes into view again, already in her full baking uniform.

"Hi, Lexa. You're up awfully early."

"Don't really sleep too well in new places."

"That's a shame. Would you like some coffee to wake up?"

"Oh, thank you, but I don't want to bother you when you aren't open yet."

"You aren't bothering me," Clarke says, completely disregarding her protests because she comes behind the counter and grabs a cup to pour her the drink from the pot. "Here you go."

Lexa accepts the cup, enjoying the warming sensation against her slightly numb fingers. "Thank you," she says taking a sip. "You're alone in here?"

"Yeah. I usually open up with at least one more employee, but one of my regular help decided to move cities right before the holidays and two others are at home with the flu. So I'm kinda short-staffed for now."

"Need a hand?" The brunette asks. She certainly can spare a few hours, especially seeing as she hasn't found a place to work yet anyway.

Clarke regards her with an amused expression. "If you are serious about it, yes. I'd never turn down an offer of help in a busy season."

Lexa nods and goes to take off her coat. "Full disclosure though, I don't remember when I tried baking anything last time."

"That's no problem." Clarke smiles. "I have plenty of prep work to do."

"Okay then." The brunette mirrors her expression. "Lead the way, chef."

Lexa follows Clarke through the door behind the counter opening into the kitchen. The space is full of professional equipment, but it doesn't look cramped. Everything is pristinely clean and organized with various color-coded labels on each bag or container that she can see. The place is obviously run by someone who takes a lot of care and pride in their job. It's nice and toasty in the backroom due to one of the ovens already being on, so Lexa decides to shed her sweater to not overheat.

"Are you going to work in that?" Clarke asks as if she's noticing her outfit for the first time.

"Yeah?" Lexa looks down at her blouse, not sure what the question is about.

"Don't get me wrong, you look pretty and all that. But it's a bit too fancy for a run-in with creams and flour."

"Well, I didn't have much of a wardrobe choice between what I packed for a business trip." The brunette shrugs. What Lexa doesn't say is that there isn't that much of a choice in general. Accounting for the hours she spends at work, her closet is mostly filled with various office attire with only a few rare comfy items for home or workouts mixed in between the sea of business casual.

"Wait here," Clarke says, going back into the front area.

Lexa wonders if the blonde is going to produce a different article of clothing out of thin air like in some kind of magic trick, but then she does exactly that, coming back with gray fabric in hand which makes the brunette crease her brow.

"My flat is upstairs," the baker explains, seeing Lexa's confused expression. "You can put it on in a staff room." She nods towards a door on her right.

A few moments later, Lexa returns to the kitchen dressed in a big soft T-shirt and takes an apron that Clarke hands her, tying the blue straps snug around her waist, and waits for further instructions. The blonde comes up to one of the big fridges and takes out a big plastic container, then she reaches high on the shelf for the bag of cocoa powder.

"How are you with a whisk?" she asks, turning to Lexa.

"Fine, I guess," is an uncertain reply she gives. Truth be told, Lexa will have to think long and hard to remember the last time she held the utensil in her hand. But realistically, how bad at it can she be? It's simply a lot of moving your hand in a circle.

Her lack of experience apparently doesn't bother Clarke, because next she gives her the biggest metal bowl Lexa's ever seen placing it on the metal table in the middle of the room, measures the needed amount of cocoa on the scale, and tells her to combine it with the custard. Seems simple enough. But then, just as Lexa is about to get to work, the blonde throws, "But don't overmix it," before disappearing somewhere in the walk-in fridge. And now Lexa is stressed. How the hell do you overmix cream?

She deposits the contents of the container in the bowl, meticulously scraping the sides for every last dollop. Then she throws the entire little bowl of prepared cocoa there as well and begins gently whisking it. Lexa quickly learns that she probably shouldn't have put the whole portion there at once as the brown powder starts gathering in clumps. Those can likely be broken fairly easily but then Clarke's warning sounds in her head, and she is apprehensive of applying too much vigor to it. How the fuck is she failing at the simple task of mixing?

"I think you took it too seriously," Clarke's voice sounds on her right. In her concentration, Lexa missed the moment when the woman returned with cartons of eggs. "Here, let me help," she says, taking hold of Lexa's hand with the whisk, showing her the correct way in confident stirring. "Don't be too afraid to use your strength. Overmixing is more about time."

Clarke is standing close to her from behind, and regardless of the fact that their hands are the single point of contact, Lexa feels a wave of heat roll through her body. It's just the hot temperatures of the kitchen, she tells herself. Absolutely nothing to do with the certain blonde in her near vicinity.

"Got it," the brunette mumbles, not managing to sound as unaffected as she wanted.

The baker nods and walks to the other side of the table, starting to work on some kind of dough. Clarke moves through the space like she's dancing, her sure fluid motions leave Lexa so captivated that she forgets about the task at hand. She's always believed it to be incredibly attractive when people find passion in their jobs. A tiny pang of envy appears in her heart, but she chooses to ignore it, opting to feed her curiosity instead.

"You own this place, don't you?" Lexa asks, returning her attention to the custard.

"I do," the blonde confirms, getting the dough onto the floured table surface. "I was nervous about taking out a loan, but my parents encouraged me to try. Four years later it looks like people enjoy what we make here."

"Who wouldn't when you create such exquisite things?"

"Thank you." Clarke gives her a shy smile when their eyes meet for a moment before quickly looking down at the ball she's kneading. "It's all possible because of the customers, really. That's what I love about this town, everybody shows up for everybody. I think if I were selling burned bread, people would still be coming here regularly."

Lexa is surprised by the poorly masked layer of insecurity beneath Clarke's self-deprecating joke. She didn't expect the constantly smiling woman to avoid the compliments she clearly deserves, so she follows the immediate urge to set the record straight. "Take the credit, Clarke. I'm sure you worked very hard to make the bakery a reality, and the pastries you make are amazing. Let me tell you, as a self-proclaimed sugar addict, I know what I'm talking about. People come here because they love the place, not due to some small-town camaraderie." Her voice is more animated than usual, and she basically rambles the last part out. But for whatever reason, Lexa feels strongly about getting this message across.

"Thank you, Lexa," Clarke says and this time she is staring straight at her without breaking eye contact. "I really appreciate it."

Now it's Lexa who looks down, her composure faltering slightly under the intensity of the blonde's gaze. Having stayed silent for a few moments, she prevents the pause from growing. "Have you always wanted to work in a bakery?" 

"Kinda," the baker answers, coming back to her efforts. "I've always loved spending time in the kitchen. I was watching my father cooking for hours on end, so it seemed inevitable that I would end up doing similar stuff myself."

Clarke tells her amusing stories from her childhood, like when she was frustrated while learning to separate egg whites for a recipe, failing again and again. It turned out, Clarke was cracking them with a knife so enthusiastically that it kept piercing the yolks and half a dozen eggs got ruined before she noticed the problem. The baker shares that she doesn't have any formal training yet, but she really hopes to go through it one day. And Lexa wonders how it must feel to have so much raw talent coursing through your veins. Hours pass unnoticed, filled with flowing conversation while Lexa moves through the small jobs around the kitchen she's entrusted with as Clarke accomplishes an amazing amount of things in quite a short span of time. Lexa finds that her brain relaxes in the predictable rhythm of manual labor. She rarely does much of routine things herself these days, almost all of her work is performed with her mind only if she doesn't take into account the never-ending typing. She has to admit that working with her hands is rather nice.

Everything is going well until Clarke asks her to get a bag from one of the shelves. Just as the brunette stretches her arm to get it without the help of a chair, Clarke exclaims, "Watch out." But her warning doesn't reach Lexa in time, and she knocks down a container. A cloud of white powder covers her upper body and the brunette starts coughing after a sharp inhale when the tiny sugar crystals sting before dissolving at the back of her throat and in her nose.

Lexa turns to Clarke, wide-eyed and now pretty grateful that she changed into work clothes. The blonde is covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes glinting, and by the tension in her shoulders and crinkles near her eyes, Lexa can see that she's barely containing laughter. Clarke lasts about ten seconds before bursting out giggling. Her coughing having subsided, Lexa joins her in a booming hoot of laughter of her own. She's startled by the rare unexpected sound the next moment. It's not that common for her, but now she's laughing so hard that tears are flowing out of her eyes, probably leaving visible streaks on her white-covered face.

"Oh my god," Clarke says with her hand on her stomach, walking towards Lexa. "It's everywhere, even in your hair." She's standing so close, that Lexa would step back if there was any space behind her. Clarke runs her finger through the brown strands, and it comes back coated in confectioners' sugar.

"I'm sorry," Lexa mumbles.

"What for? Pretty sure I'm the one who should be apologizing. It's like a workplace accident or something," Clarke jokes.

"I don't think I suffered that much," Lexa counters.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

Lexa follows her into a small bathroom, having declined an offer of a shower upstairs and Clarke leaves her with a stack of fresh towels and her clothes. Fifteen minutes later, most of the white dust, or at least the visible part, is dealt with. Brushing it off her hair proved to be the hardest part. When Lexa comes back to the kitchen it's empty and as she calls out for Clarke she is told to come to the front.

A steaming mug of coffee and a plate of eggs and veggies is waiting for her on the table. And after she attempts to refuse it, Clarke just stares at her with the sky-blue eyes and Lexa gives way in like five seconds. A plate with three chocolate éclairs appears on her table when she's done with her meal and the brunette is powerless to resist the temptation. The already familiar chime pierces the bubble of delight, informing her of the beginning of a working day. An elderly woman walks in and asks for a loaf of fresh bread, leaving after exchanging a few warm words with the baker.

Lexa picks up her dishes and brings them to the washing area, then she comes up to the counter and offers her card to Clarke.

"You don't need to pay anything." The baker dodges her outstretched hand. 

"Clarke," the brunette insists.

"No." Clarke simply shakes her head, staring her down again. "It was a thank you for help, Lexa."

Not even a full day has passed since she met Clarke, but Lexa already knows that arguing will her get exactly nowhere. "Thank you," she sighs defeated even though it's doubtful how much of a help she was. "It was very tasty. I won't distract you anymore. Is there any place with stable internet during a storm in town?"

"You aren't," Clarke retorts but then continues. "Try the library or the diner, those usually work okay. But the library doesn't open for another three hours and the diner for one."

"Thanks." Lexa nods and waves her goodbye. "Have a nice day."

"You too."

Lexa decides to return to her room to get some of her things and give it another go with her hairbrush. This time she's walking along a cleared path on the main street. The town is still quiet, but the lights are on here and there. Lexa meets a dark-haired woman yawning behind the reception desk and learns that her name is Octavia. Despite her clearly sleepy state, Octavia strikes a short pleasant conversation with her, asking about her stay and if she needs anything. She gives Lexa directions to the diner, with a glowing review of the place and a list of her personal favorites to boot.

An hour later, Lexa finds herself at the place, a laptop bag slung over her shoulder. The area is empty beside her and one man taking up a stool near the bar. The diner is full of color and tasteful decorations, a few paintings on the walls, with big windows that bring in the light from the rising sun. She chooses a table in the far corner by the window and browses through the menu. It's not that she's actually hungry after her recent breakfast, but she's not about to take space without ordering either.

Lexa opens up her laptop and gets to work, sorting the emails that have accumulated through yesterday, skims a preliminary report, and sends a few messages to her team in the work channel. She's reading a budget sheet when her phone pings with a notification. "why are you working already? did you even sleep like a normal person?" a text from her sister says. She ignores it for the lack of an actual reply. What do you say to that? She's working because there are a ton of things on her to-do list and because it's her job. But Lexa knows none of those answers would satisfy Anya. In fact, nothing would. Well, besides her resignation letter which is never going to happen. There is a fundamental incongruity in their views of the situations which makes their constant arguments inescapable. Lexa sees her dedication to the company as proper work ethics, Anya believes she's doing it from some misguided sense of duty. At least they have forgone the screaming matches they used to have, especially during the first year after their parents' death. Now it's more about Anya's constant nagging about her hours as if she expects that years of consistent scolding will gradually sand off Lexa's determination until there is nothing left but dust.

Another message comes in about five minutes. "don't think you can ignore me"

"I'm not," Lexa texts. A lie. She absolutely was. "Yes, I slept through the night. And there is nothing else to do here." Another lie. But the brunette can't imagine herself passively lying on her hotel bed, mindlessly watching TV or something. Images of mixing cake batter and chatting with Clarke appear in her head, but she shoos them away because it's also not an option.

Lexa's been typing on her laptop for a few hours when a voice drags her out of the single-focus state. "Would you like some more coffee?" She looks up to see a man with sandy-blond hair standing at the table, gesturing towards her almost completely empty cup with a pot in hand.

There is something familiar in his features, but she can't immediately place it. The curve of his lips clues her in, but it's not until her gaze fixes on the icy-blue eyes that Lexa figures it out. The man, who she is ninety-five percent sure is Clarke's father, doesn't get annoyed with her prolonged lack of reply, but simply continues patiently smiling at her. When Lexa still doesn't say anything he raises an eyebrow questionably while moving the pot an inch closer to the cup.

"Oh, yes, thank you. That would be great," the woman rushes to say. What is it with her brain and its lagging response time while around the Griffins? It could also be her general sleep deprivation talking. But that seems too close to admitting that Anya can be right, so no, she's not doing that. 

"Now, I can be completely out of line here, and feel free to tell me exactly that. But you have the exact same look on your face that my wife gets after too many hours in the hospital."

Here it goes again, Lexa thinks. Yet weirdly enough the typical annoyance she gets when her sister sings the same song in her ear doesn't come. The man's voice has a strangely soothing effect on her. "I'm just saying, and this is coming from a family of people walking the thin line of workaholism, maybe ease up a little bit, you know? But again, you can totally tell the old man to take a hike."

"I'm afraid I was raised to be respectful to my elders." 

Her joke earns a hearty chuckle. "Oh, you're good." And why does it feel so nice to get her sense of humor approved by Clarke's dad?

Lexa gives him a genuine smile and promises, "I'll try." And she may actually mean it because only half an hour later, she puts her laptop in the bag and walks outside to get some fresh air.

❄❄❄

The problem with restricting something for a long time is that eventually when you slip, the craving returns with vengeance. That's why after a full day of fighting, there is hardly anything left of her determination when Lexa's eyes fall on the familiar building. It's got dark once more and according to her calculation, the day is nearing the closing hours. But she sees Clarke behind the counter through the window and when she pulls the door it's open.

Lexa might be imagining it, but Clarke's smile flashes a bit brighter when she notices the newcomer. "Back for your dose, Lexa?"

"Your brilliant creations managed to break my willpower in only one day," the brunette complains dramatically but with no real heat underneath her words.

"Would you hate me if I said that I'm glad?" The baker laughs. "What can I get you?"

"Surprise me?" Lexa says. "Whatever you choose, but no licorice."

Clarke scrunches her nose at the request, seemingly sharing her opinion on the awful candy. "I think you'll like this." A tartlet with caramel and hazelnuts is handed to her. But when Lexa takes out a card to pay, the blonde jerks away the terminal out of her reach. She narrows her eyes at the woman, but Clarke only says, "Nope. On the house. Coffee or tea?"

"Coffee, please," Lexa agrees, devising a plan to pay later.

The blonde turns to pour her a cup, but then her phone buzzes in the pocket of her apron. "Oh, shoot."

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, but I completely forgot that I was supposed to get the uniforms from the dry-cleaning today, and they're closing in fifteen." She is back to facing Lexa. "Hate to be a bother, but could you please stay behind the counter for a bit? I'll be real quick, I promise. And it's unlikely people will come this late anyway."

"Emm..." Lexa's hesitation is mostly due to the fact that she'd never had any sort of customer service experience. But she's managing a big company, surely she can manage a counter for fifteen minutes. Plus, she'd kinda hate to say no to Clarke. "Yeah, I guess I can."

"Thank you! You're a lifesaver." The blonde throws on her jacket and runs outside but stops in the doorway. "Oh, if Indra comes for her cupcakes, tell her they're free of charge today, the bags are by the display."

Lexa walks towards the counter and places the plate with her dessert on the lower level of the desk to eat when Clarke comes back. She takes out her wallet and sneaks a few bigger bills into the tip jar, not too suspicious or too many so that Clarke won't immediately notice and give them back. Then the woman sits down on a chair by the wall and decides to give her email a check. Just as the blonde said, there are no customers during the time Lexa manning the fort. When the bells sound about fifteen minutes later she stands up, expecting to find Clarke by the door, but that's not who she sees. Instead, a black woman in a police uniform is leveling her up with a calculated gaze.

"Um, hi," Lexa says unsure. "What can I get you?"

The woman remains silent for a beat as if assessing the scene.  Lexa senses she's not making her best impression right now but the problem is she has no idea how to improve the situation. She lets out a quiet exhale when the officer finally asks, "Who are you, Ma'am?"

"I'm Lexa." But what kind of answer is it? Certainly not the most useful information, so she continues. "Clarke went out for an errand, she'll be back soon."

The woman keeps her suspicious expression, watching Lexa closely as if she'd make a run for it any second, tension is growing in the air. She can't be arrested for standing behind the counter, right? It's probably only been a minute or two, but it feels like another hour flies by before the front door opens and Clarke appears from behind the woman.

"Indra? Why are you standing here looking at Lexa all that stern?" She glances between the women.

"Because I came here, and a person I've never seen before, obviously not from the town, was in the bakery alone."

"And you thought that she's here to do what? Steal bread?" Clarke huffs amused and Lexa finally relaxes the muscles she didn't realize went stiff. 

"Don't be foolish, child," Indra says.

"Alright, let's not scare the visitors, shall we?" Clarke walks towards the display close to the brunette and starts picking up the unspoken order of cupcakes. "Lexa, this is Indra, our chief of police. Indra, this is Lexa who I asked to stay while I'm out, certainly not a bread thief."

The smile Lexa gives Indra upon the introduction turns out to be slightly crooked. The officer's eyes are still on her, but her features have shifted from suspicious to somewhat curious. She doesn't say anything besides thanking Clarke for her desserts as she hands in her money and disappears just as fast as she got here.

"I'm sorry about her," Clarke says, pouring two cups of coffee. "Indra can be really intense sometimes."

"Yeah," Lexa agrees, taking her drink. "I was remembering my lawyer's number only a minute ago."

"No need, I'd have totally bailed you out."

"Well thank you, Clarke," the brunette says.

"Of course." The blues are sparkling with mischief. "The custard won't mix itself. Free labor is hard to come by these days, you know?"

Lexa gasps in mock shock and does the most childish thing in the past decade, throwing a hazelnut at the woman.

Chapter Text

The snowstorm is finally letting up on the third day, leaving temperatures to drop in its wake. Lexa can feel the bite of freezing air through the thin leather of her gloves as she's walking along the cleared sidewalk towards her now frequently-visited destination. Only for coffee, she tells herself. But realistically, the brunette isn't so sure she'll be able to stick with the bargain.

It's a reasonable hour at least, the sun is already shining between the rare clouds. When she glanced at her phone upon waking up, Lexa was somewhat surprised to learn that it was already 8 a.m. which is a lot later than her normal schedule. However, she managed to squeeze in two hours of work before her coffee craving got too overwhelming. When the bakery comes into view, Lexa sees that somebody graciously dug her car out of its snow cover. The kind gesture brings a smile to her face. Clarke was right, the people are certainly a huge part of the small town's charm.

When Lexa comes inside, the person behind the counter is not who she expected. Instead of the smiley blond baker, it's a young girl with straight dark hair and a slightly shy expression. It's getting a lot harder to successfully convince herself that she's here just for her caffeine fix when undeniable disappointment is flooding her senses.

"Good morning, what would you like to get?"

Lexa pushes away her upset and orders, "Black coffee and a chicken sandwich, please. Here."

The woman pays for her food and walks to the table that she's made a habit of occupying for the past two days. The plush armchair softens the sting of the letdown expectation for a beat. The brunette is studying on her phone a building project from one of her trainees when soft steps approach her space.

"I have one more for you to taste. Made a new batch this morning," says Clarke, handing her a plate with the dessert in the development process and Lexa's features shine brighter with content. She gets even happier when the blonde pulls out the opposite chair and joins her at the table with a drink of her own.

"Good morning, Clarke."

"Morning, Lexa." The brunette quite enjoys the way she pronounces her name. Then Clarke makes an impatient motion with her hand, urging her to try the pastry.

Lexa obliges, gliding her spoon through the creamy mousse. Honestly, the woman wishes she had a more developed palette, because 'it was amazing, and it's got even more amazing' is unlikely the constructive feedback the baker is looking for. So Lexa makes herself pause and really pay attention to the flavors.

"I like the stronger spices in the gingerbread," she notes. "But maybe too much pine this time?"

"Yeah." Clarke is nodding enthusiastically. "That's exactly what I thought, thank you. And the confit?"

"Seems perfect to me."

A sudden sound coming from her phone startles Lexa so that when she stretches her arm to turn off the ringtone of her meeting reminder, she accidentally rattles her mug, spilling some of its contents on the table. "Shit."

"Here," Clarke says, getting a bunch of paper napkins from the holder. "Let me get that." Then her hand brushes Lexa's fingers picking the phone up, and she exclaims, "God, Lexa, you're like frozen solid!"

Actually, Lexa's already forgotten about her walk in the cold, having warmed up in the bread-scented air. "That's nothing, poor blood circulations in my hands and feet."

The blonde ignores her reasoning completely and glances at her outerwear hanging on a hook by the table. "You can't be walking around in your thin coat in this weather!"

"I didn't pack anything else," the woman counters.

"Then finish your breakfast, and we are going shopping to get you something that will prevent you from turning into a giant popsicle." Before Lexa's objections can leave her lips Clarke adds, "Who is going to do all that important work you have if you get a cold?"

Judging by her smug expression, the blonde knows all too well that the question hit the target. Truth be told, sick or not, Lexa will still be managing her responsibilities. But she gets the feeling that this particular piece of her work mindset is better left unsaid.

"Alright." The brunette gives in and enjoys the winning smile shining on Clarke's face.

Lexa follows Clarke along the sidewalk in comfortable silence, trying to stifle little shakes traveling through her warmed-up body at the contact with the frigid air. It takes only a couple of minutes of walking before the blonde stops in front of the ornately carved wooden door Lexa noticed yesterday. She comes inside a brightly lit shop almost bursting with various articles of clothing of all styles and colors. It's quite eclectic, especially for a small establishment in a town with a population of fifteen thousand.

"Bellamy!" The blonde apparently has a habit of yelling to get her friends' attention. "Where are you?"

"Save your screaming for your private activities, Clarke." A tall man with a mess of curly black hair appears from one of the doors, carrying a massive box. He puts it down by one of the numerous racks and locates his visitor. If the slight color to his cheeks when he sees them is anything to go by, he didn't expect the blonde to bring in company to hear his previous comment. "Oh, hi, welcome."

Clarke snorts aloud, clearly relishing in his discomfort.

Bellamy chooses to ignore her and turns his attention to Lexa. "How can I help you?"

"Hello, I need a winter coat for this kind of weather."

"I've just put up some new arrivals over there." The man gestures to the corner by the register. "All of them are good for low temperatures."

"Thank you."

Lexa goes to browse through the options while Clarke strikes up a conversation with her friend about some kind of festival. The brunette picks a few items and walks to the fitting room to try them on. When she returns about ten minutes later, dressed in a long dark green coat with a black fur collar, she finds that Octavia joined the two of them, now perched on the counter and swinging her legs. Without a desk to obstruct the view, it turns out that the woman is heavily pregnant. She is the one who notices Lexa approaching.

"How the hell do you look so hot in a winter coat?" she asks, narrowing her eyes.

"Thank you?" Lexa is not sure how to react to such an out-of-left-field comment which brings another chuckle out of the blond woman.

"Sorry." Octavia shrugs. "Pregnancy hormones make me super horny sometimes."

"Octavia!" Bellamy groans, actually covering his ears. "Don't say shit like that in front of me!"

"Sorry," the woman repeats, yet Lexa could wager all her shares in the company that there isn't an ounce of sincerity in the statement. Now that she looks closer at the pair, the similarities are obvious. Those plus years of her personal experience, and Lexa can tell that they are siblings. No other group of people on the planet can so efficiently push each other's buttons if you ask her.

"She'll also need some thicker gloves," Clarke says to Bellamy who still looks scandalized.

He nods and pulls out a case from the display under the register, setting it down in front of Lexa. She quickly scans it, running her fingers along the smooth leather. Her choice falls on a dark-brown pair with a soft layer of fur inside.

"Should I ring your discount, Clarke?" the man asks.

"Sure," the blonde says, as at the same time Lexa declines, "No."

Lexa moves her gaze to the blonde who looks back at her, eyebrows knitted. It's not that she doesn't appreciate the gesture, but Lexa doesn't want to take advantage of her generosity, even more where small businesses are concerned. So she says in her work negotiations' final tone, "Thank you, Clarke. But no, that isn't necessary."

The brunette swiftly gives Bellamy her card, nipping any possible objections in the bud. "And a bag for this one, please." She places her beige coat on the counter while her purchases are being scanned.

"Is this last season's Burberry?" Octavia asks, studying the piece.

"Maybe," Lexa replies. She actually has no idea what this or most other items in her wardrobe are from, learning the brands only when she catches sight of the tags sometimes. The woman has never been a particular fan of shopping, putting it off until there were no other alternatives. This is one of the rare activities that she's been a hundred percent on board with delegating to her assistant since stepping into her job position.

"All done," the man says after a few moments, handing her the bag and the gloves back. "Here you go, Miss Woods."

"I can bring this to your room if you'd like?" Octavia asks, hopping off the counter with a surprising grace for someone carrying such a big belly. "I'm going back to the inn anyway."

Lexa thinks about the offer for a minute because she has no clear idea of her plans for the day. She went over pretty much everything available remotely last evening and this morning. It feels extremely weird, but for the first time in god only knows how long, there is nothing on her to-do list unless some emails or calls come during the day. With her schedule wide open, she probably should use the time for better things than aimlessly flipping through channels in her room.

"That would be great, thank you," Lexa agrees.

Octavia nods and takes her bag, exchanging goodbyes with her brother. The two of them are mumbling about something after throwing a glance in Lexa's direction, but the words are too quiet for her to discern. After the dark-haired woman leaves the store, Clarke bids a farewell of her own, making Bellamy promise to come to the next game night with the quite menacing threat of "I'll hunt you down if you try skipping it again, Blake." Lexa says goodbye as well, following the blonde out of the shop purely instinctively. Once outside, she pauses unsure of what to fill her day with.

Clarke apparently catches up on her hesitation. "Would you like to walk around the town with me for a bit?"

"Don't you have to return to the bakery?"

"Nah, Fox and Artigas are managing it today, so I have a day off."

"Then sure," Lexa agrees. Who would ever decline Clarke's company, honestly?

They stroll around the town at a leisurely pace with Clarke pointing to the buildings here and there and sharing some facts. Through the commentary, Lexa learns that the diner has been owned by the Griffins for generations as they're one of the founding families on the council, that all the beautiful carpentry work around the place has been done by her friend Gustus and a few stories about shenanigans Clarke and her friends got up to when they were in school.

As the women finish their lap and come back to the main square, they find the place busy with a huge group of people hanging fairy lights and holiday decorations everywhere. During only an hour of their walk, the square has been transformed into a picturesque scene straight out of some Hallmark movie, with little potted Christmas trees and merchant stalls in a half-circle. There is an honest-to-god fifteen-foot tall Nutcracker standing by the main tree that is being decorated with colorful ornaments.

"It's mostly for the festival in two weeks," Clarke supplies when she notices Lexa's wandering eyes taking in the scale of the production.

"This is quite grand," Lexa comments when a truck, with even more holiday-themed figures in the back, stops nearby.

"Oh, it's nothing. The town is really big on celebrations of any kind. You should have seen what we had on last St. Patrick's Day even though we have a population of exactly zero Irish descendants here," the blonde laughs. "The fair is my favorite part, I used to spend hours consuming hot chocolate with gingerbread cookies and just wandering around, looking at the twinkling lights. I have no idea how my parents managed to ever make me leave, especially with the amount of sugar I ate in one evening."

"Do you still go every year?"

"Rarely," Clarke sighs. "Now I'm the one working in the bakery stall most of the time, so I don't get to walk around much until we are closed. But I usually have a chance to see the official lighting of the tree at least. This year with half of my staff out of commission I doubt I'll even get that."

"I'm sorry," Lexa says, genuinely upset on her behalf.

"It's okay," Clarke replies, but her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. "It's not a big deal." In spite of her words, Lexa can hear the disappointment in her tone. "Anyway, I was thinking. Would you like to go on a little hike up the mountain? It's on the outskirts, but we can get there on foot. The view is very nice, especially in this weather, and I'm sure Gus has cleared a path already because he often walks Picasso, his dog, there."

The offer of spending more time with the woman sounds really appealing, but Lexa is uncertain. "Are you sure I'm not distracting you from your plans or something?"

"Not at all," Clarke says and then adds as an afterthought in a quieter voice, "I like hanging out and talking to you."

The statement blooms in Lexa's chest, warming her up better than her new coat ever could. "I like it too. Sure, let's go to the mountain."

The brilliant smile the blonde gives her makes Lexa think that she'd follow her regardless of the destination which is an utterly bizarre feeling for the woman she's just met. Lexa's never experienced anything akin to that before.

"But let's get some fuel first."

Clarke takes them to the diner that is much more full today. Seems like many people are spending their breaks between turning the town into Winter Wonderland with a cup of coffee and plates of pancakes. At least this time Clarke doesn't yell, possibly not to startle the crowd, and simply comes up to the bar instead where her father is talking to a patron.

"Hey, Dad." The blonde waves, stepping closer.

"Hi, kiddo." The man excuses himself from the conversation and comes to greet his daughter with a hug.

"Good afternoon, Mr Griffin," the brunette says.

"Please, call me Jake."

"Dad." Clarke extricates herself from the embrace. "This is Lexa."

"Oh, I figured," Jake replies with a smile that if Lexa didn't know any better, she'd call mischievous. "You're quite the talk of the town, Lexa."

"Why?" The woman is confused. Not taking into account her last night's near-arrest experience, she's hardly done anything too exciting or newsworthy. What can be possibly shared about her?

"Don't mind them," Clarke grunts, swatting her father on the arm lightly. "Everybody is too fond of gossip around here, each tiny thing gets passed around until something new happens. Last year they were seriously debating whether we have a secret bunker in the mountain. They aren't discussing anything worth repeating."

"Whatever you say, kiddo." Jake winks at his daughter. The gesture mixed with Clarke's slightly overenthusiastic tirade about the town's gossip only makes Lexa's curiosity about what can be possibly going around regarding her grow tenfold. The information is filed for later. She's pretty sure that if she asks Octavia once she's back at the inn, the woman will gladly spill the tea.

"Anyway," Clarke says, not betraying any reaction to her dad's words. "Can you make us two cups of hot chocolate and two pieces of the peach pie? To go."

"Of course, honey." Jake nods. "What are you guys doing today?"

"I'm taking Lexa to the top of the mountain and maybe to the lake."

"Oh, I think you'll like it there, Lexa. The place looks great under the cover of snow," he notes before turning to the kitchen to get their order. "I'll be back in a second."

After a few minutes, Jake returns with two paper cups and two brown paper bags that for some reason seem to hold something heavier than just a piece of pie. Clarke gets their food, and they say goodbye before returning to the freezing air. The blonde asks Lexa if she wants to drive up to the foot of the mountain, but clad in her new insulated winter wear she feels content to continue on foot instead. They arrive at the place twenty minutes later, having left all the people behind.

It's peaceful here, the only sounds are birds and the creaking of the fresh layer of snow. Despite the trodden path, the hike is harder than Lexa expected due to the soft white covering the ground sinking under her steps. But she's thoroughly enjoying herself. Being much younger, Lexa used to spend a big chunk of her free time in the forest by her grandparents' house. Nobody disturbed her for hours while the girl was wandering around, studying the trees and animals, feeling one with nature. The brunette can't remember the last time she visited the place, and she misses it so much after years in the concrete jungles of Polis.

It takes them about an hour of trailing between the tall pines and spruces to get to the top, but it's totally worth it. The view is breathtaking, with rows of tiny houses on the left contrasted with the lake framed by the boundless expanse of forest on the right. Snow is sparkling in the sunlight, only improving the picture.

"What do you think?" Clarke asks, studying her face.

"It's amazing," Lexa replies, gulping in a big inhale of fresh mountain air. "Thank you for showing me."

"Of course. What do you say we have a little break?"

There is some kind of rest area a little to their left with benches and a couple of picnic tables. Lexa nods and follows Clarke who places their food on one of them, taking out plastic plates and cutlery.

"Pie or sandwich?" she asks, checking the contents of the bags.

"Pie," Lexa says right away not even ashamed of her now quite out-of-control craving for sweets. She'll fix it later, after she's returned home.

"I thought so," Clarke chuckles, depositing two pies on the plates and handing one to Lexa.

She dusts the snow off the bench on her side, sits down, and takes it along with the plastic fork Clarke hands her. Food always tastes better after some physical exertion, but the pie doesn't require any boost to be delicious. Lexa isn't that keen on fruit desserts, but this is some next-level baking.

"This is amazing," she says between the bites.

"Right?" Clarke replies, devouring her own slice at record speed. "It's a famous secret family recipe, even I don't know it. Dad says I'll get it only as an inheritance."

"No idea what's in it, but I can eat it all day."

"Good thing we have two portions then."

It takes just a few minutes to gobble down everything to the very last crumb, and now they're simply enjoying a still-warm hot chocolate at a much slower pace. Lexa is the most relaxed she's been in ages.

"So, you know all about my professional history," Clarke notes after a couple of minutes of silence. "What is it you do for work?"

"I'm an architect and I manage the company." Lexa's reply is purposefully vague, not because she's keeping some kind of secret but because she doesn't want to spoil the peace with the shop talk.

It doesn't help much though. Clarke nods accepting her answer and opens her mouth to say something, but then she pauses, reconsidering her words and a recognition sparks in her blues. "Wait. You're Lexa Woods. As in Woods Incorporated?"

"Yes," the brunette confirms after a beat with a sigh. She braces herself for the upcoming response.

"I really loved the community center you built!"

The reaction honestly surprises her. Usually, she gets condolences for the untimely death of her parents or 'are you really a millionaire' type of questions, not compliments on her first and only passion project.

"Thank you," confusion is coloring her tone. "How do you know about it?" It wasn't very publicized at the time, as Lexa wanted to be appreciated for her own work and not the family name. Then her parents' accident happened quite soon after that and any news about the center drowned in the media storm that came in the wake of the tragedy.

"My friend Niylah works there as one of the educators," Clarke explains. "I saw it when I visited her in Polis last year. The place is fantastic and locals absolutely love it."

"I haven't been there since it was opened, actually," Lexa notes. Of course, she still has the company curating it and dealing with any problems or requests, but she hasn't been personally involved in the project for a long time

"You should," the blonde says. "Why haven't you?"

"You may have heard from the media that my parents died in a plane crash six years ago. I was only in my second year in the firm, having finished my first big job when it happened, and then it was to me and my sister to inherit the company. Anya is a wizard with numbers, so she took a CFO position. I had to take on the role of CEO, so I didn't have much free time to visit."

She didn't have any free time at all for that matter. Lexa was just 22 years old, tasked with the huge responsibility of running a multi-million-dollar company, barely having had any prior managing experience. So she had to learn. Fast. Plenty of people were hesitant, and she was constantly talking down concerned board members and senior executives at first. But nobody doubted her abilities as much as she did, being smothered by powerful imposter syndrome. Who the hell was she to think she could ever do it? But Lexa sucked it up, keeping the anxious words in her head, and did. She persevered, and now the company is prospering, better than it has ever been. But these days there is still simply no spare time to develop her own projects amidst endless board meetings, negotiations, and reading through the reports. The only thing close to her actual specialty Lexa allows herself to indulge in is reviewing projects of her team from time to time. If this is the price for upholding the legacy, so be it. She hopes her parents would be proud of her for that.

"It must have been hard," Clarke says sympathetically, lightly squeezing her hand that is lying on the table. Lexa's preparing her regular answer about the obligation to keep the family's business thriving when the woman continues. "I can't imagine how you felt after losing your parents. Working for the company must have allowed you to feel closer to them."

"It did, actually," Lexa agrees. "Dulled the pain a bit."

She vividly remembers to this day how she first attempted to clear up her father's office late at night a while after the funeral and simply started bawling instead, leaving behind tear stains on the papers on his desk. But now the brunette finds solace in working in the same room she had so often visited ever since she was a baby. Lexa feels her dad's presence sometimes when she pays attention to the evening quiet. The women remain silent for a long while, the pause dragging on.

Sensing the much-needed reprieve from the conversation that has taken a heavy turn, Clarke asks, "Would you like to go down to the lake?" After a moment she adds considerate, "If you aren't too tired?"

"Why not?" Lexa agrees.

Their way down is much faster on the declining slope, the time passes in the comfortable silence. Lexa feels the familiar longing she gets whenever she talks about her parents, but it's not tainted with misery this time, she just really misses them.

Only half an hour later the women get to the base of the mountain. The descent to the lake is uneven, littered with frozen rocks under the snowy cover. "Be careful, it's very slippery in places," Clarke instructs.

They travel down in slow measured steps, with Clarke leading the way and Lexa trailing behind. They are almost at their destination when Lexa's foot catches on a tree root she doesn't notice. The brunette yelps, losing her balance and careening towards the ground. Clarke tries to grab her rather unsuccessfully, both of them toppling down straight to the hard ice instead. Lexa lands on the top of the blond woman with an audible thump of air being knocked out of her lungs on the impact. She comes to her senses after a moment's disorientation. Her face is so close to Clarke's that a wild thought crosses her mind. The brunette throws a quick glance at her lips and when she returns her gaze up Lexa sees it in her eyes. She is not the only one experiencing it. This pull in the center of her chest that feels as natural as gravity. But what's the point? Soon Lexa will be back to her office life and a time-poor schedule and Clarke will still be here, among her friends and family, smiling and making up amazing creations. This temptation at least she has enough strength to resist.

"I'm sorry," Lexa says, placing her hands on either side of the woman and pulling herself off her. She watches the hazy glaze fly off the blues as she comes back to reality.

"Oh, oh." Clarke squirms into a sitting position. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Lexa replies standing up and offering Clarke a hand. She doesn't admit out loud that Clarke's soft figure perfectly cushioned the blow. "I should be asking you that. Everything intact?"

"I think so," the woman says, brushing snow off her jacket and jeans. "Besides the bruise I know is going to cover my whole butt tomorrow."

Not a very helpful comment, honestly, as it leaves Lexa struggling to avoid the mental imagery of Clarke's bottom.

"That's good," Lexa blurts out without much thinking. Clarke arches an eyebrow at her words. "I mean not the butt part, but the intact part." She's glad for her body's inability to produce blush when she's making a complete fool of herself otherwise her cheeks would be crimson right now.

"Shall we explore for a bit?" Clarke asks, mercifully leaving her words without a comment.

The blonde reassures that the ice is solid and has been checked multiple times this month, so the women go to the center of the lake where the wind has swept off most of the snow. They try themselves in a competition of sorts, seeing who is able to glide further on the uncovered ice. Lexa wins, and it turns out Clarke is somewhat of a sore loser because a few moments later a snowball lands in Lexa's fur collar barely missing her face. Lexa stands still for a couple of seconds, blinking stunned, before bursting into laughter, scooping snow for her own throw and sending it into Clarke's direction. Despite her perfect aim, Clarke ends up the winner of the snow fight, being a lot faster at dodging the flying snowballs. Lexa blames the long coat restricting her movement, but she doesn't mind losing because she's having so much fun. It's been an eternity since she let herself goof around.

It's dark as they decide that it's time to return to the town. Exhausted and covered in poorly cleaned snow but beaming ear to ear, chatting animatedly. They're coming close to the now completely unrecognizable from this morning square when Clarke's phone pings, and she fishes it out of her pocket to read the text on her screen.

"Gus says the roads are open," the blonde informs her.

"Oh," Lexa replies, not having expected it now. "That's great." Is her flat intonation even fooling anyone? Not herself, that's for sure. For the second time today, she's filled with disappointment. Because she's kinda forgotten that she's supposed to be eagerly waiting for the opportunity to return.

❄❄❄

The next morning Lexa is standing in the exact spot where she left her car only three days ago. Yet some kind of imperceptible shift happened in that time. Lexa can't decipher what it is just yet, but she can feel it's there, settled in her bones.

She decided not to risk driving through the night, especially after a day full of activity. Her bags have been packed in the car which is already running to warm up before she gets in. Everything is ready except one thing. Clarke insisted on seeing her off, but when Lexa appeared at the bakery fifteen minutes ago, the blonde waved her hello and disappeared into the kitchen. Lexa isn't exactly on a tight schedule today and a quarter of an hour is nothing, she's mainly curious about the reasons for the delay. Her unspoken question is answered five minutes later when Clarke comes outside with arms full of paper bags.

"I packed you a little something for the road," she says, opening the back door of the car and depositing the bags in a neat row on the seat.

"How many days do you think I'm going to drive?" Lexa asks, considering the immense amount of baked goods. It seems like Clarke brought half of her day's supply with her.

"Well, you can leave something for later." The woman just shrugs, unfazed.

When she's satisfied with how everything is placed, Clarke dives out of the car and walks to stand in front of Lexa.

"I will—" The brunette doesn't have a chance to finish her thought because the next moment she's enveloped in a tight hug. She pauses, surprised, but then returns it in the mirroring power the next second.

"Have a safe trip, Lexa," Clarke mumbles somewhere into the vicinity of brown hair before they separate.

"Thank you, Clarke," the brunette replies and gets into the car.

For some reason the image of Clarke waving her goodbye in the rearview mirror makes Lexa's chest constrict uncomfortably. She spends the whole drive in silence, trying not to pay attention to the thoughts roaming free in her head. A little smile appears on her face when during the breakfast stop Lexa goes through the contents of the bags and finds a box with the dessert Clarke's been working on. A sticky note is attached to the top. "Tell me what you think?:)" with ten digits under the loopy scroll.  Then Lexa's expression sours because how the hell is she supposed to restrain herself now?

Chapter Text

"And she's back to sulking," Anya's voice pulls her out of an examination of her notes. The meeting ended about half an hour ago, and all the participants dispersed to their desks leaving Lexa alone in the conference room.

"I don't sulk," Lexa retorts, straightening up and rolling her shoulder to ease off the muscles stiff from her hunched posture.

"Well, I don't know what it is that you mean to be doing with your face." Her sister circles her finger around Lexa's head to emphasize her point. "But it definitely looks like sulking to me."

Lexa is aware that it's one hundred percent going to be a wasted effort, but she ignores the woman anyway. Anya must take it as an invitation because she flops onto the nearby chair and takes up intensely staring at her almost without blinking at all. Lexa knows that look, has been on the receiving end of it countless times. She's seen what it does to poor interns who crumble under the stare in mere seconds. But Lexa's perfected her defenses over the years, so now it mostly irritates her rather than anything else.

"What do you want, Anya?" Another win under her sister's belt.

"End of holiday madness, world peace, for you to do something about your crush," she casually lists on her fingers.

"I don't have a crush," Lexa counters.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, sis. You've got like a massive crush. I've never seen you so hung up over a girl before."

"You can't imagine how much I regret telling you anything right now," the brunette groans.

"Like you had a chance," Anya laughs. "You've shared all your secrets with me ever since you learned to talk. So the sooner you stop trying to fool me, the faster we can resolve your issues."

"I don't have issues."

"Right." Anya looks up to the ceiling exasperated. 

Truth be told, Lexa has an issue. But it's like teeny tiny at best, nothing to warrant this annoying attempt at conversation really. It's been two weeks since the brunette returned to Polis, and this whole time a yellow, now crumpled, piece of stationery has been taunting her. Initially, she stuck it onto the mirror in the hallway, considering whether she should put the digits to use far more times than healthy. The note earned its creases on day seven when Lexa threw it in the trash as a final decision. Only to retrieve it the very same evening and place it back. There isn't even an actual need for it anymore, after the endless circles she walked around it, Lexa's learned the number by heart. Yet she hasn't tapped it on the screen of her phone once.

Or maybe the real issue is that despite her best efforts to persuade herself that it's just a temporary infatuation, her pining, or sulking as Anya sees it, hasn't subsided by even a shred. Lexa's been denying the magnitude of her feelings the whole time, and doing a half-assed job of it if she's honest with herself. So she might as well admit, very begrudgingly, at least in her head, that Anya's right. She's got a massive crush she doesn't know how to get rid of. Or doesn't want to, supplies a poorly suppressed voice inside.

"I'm not sure what you want me to do," Lexa sighs, shedding her pretense slightly.

"Just freaking text her already," Anya grumbles, rolling her eyes. "Or send her some Christmas gift. For god’s sake, do something besides silently moping which is obvious to anyone with more than two brain cells, by the way."

Easier said than done. It's not like Lexa hasn't thought about it. On the contrary, there has been too much thinking. But regardless of how she looks at it, the whole endeavor is simply unrealistic. A five-hour ride separates their cities. Both of them have a lot on their plate professionally. There are about minus four hours in Lexa's daily calendar to spare. Yet again, all the logic in the world falls powerless against this stubborn greedy creature inside of her, fed on too much sugar and pretty smiles Clarke gifted her. Lexa feels exactly the same longing that appeared when she saw Clarke fading in the rearview mirror as she was driving away. 

"It's crazy, I've known her only for a total of three days, two and a half if we're being precise. I shouldn't be feeling like this." Her voice sounds too whiny for Lexa's liking.

"Yet you do." Anya shrugs.

"So what now, I'm supposed to uproot my whole life?"

"Who says anything about uprooting?" Anya shakes her head as if she's dealing with a petulant child. "You've been miserable for a long time." Lexa opens her mouth to retort but her sister cuts off any attempts. "No, don't argue, Lexa. You absolutely have. There is this stupid idea stuck in your head that by giving up your life you're carrying on our parent's legacy. But this is bullshit. Mum and Dad wouldn't want this for you. You hate this job with the never-ending appeasing of idiots with thick wallets and suffocating red tape. Just finally admit that, will you?"

For a few moments, Lexa keeps her gaze level, remaining silent. She senses the spider web of cracks crawling along her stoic mask. It hasn't been particularly efficient in Anya's presence anyway. So she gives up, letting out a heavy sigh. "I really do."

The smile on Anya's face is pure triumph. Six years of work bearing fruit at last. Lexa half expects her to throw her arms to the sky and scream her delight, but luckily she doesn't. "So stop fucking torturing yourself and allow some happiness into your life."

Lexa considers her words for a while. Whatever she does next, it's going to be a pivotal moment, that much is clear. A quiet war is waging in her mind. But ultimately, a dutiful part of her might have lost the battle the second she laid her eyes on Clarke. Lexa does the wildest thing, so rare that she's almost forgotten how to. She makes a choice with her heart.

Once it's done, her body feels lighter and her head clearer. She taps her phone on and makes a quick call. "Tris, come to the conference room, please."

The young woman appears in the doorway not more than three minutes later, her expression focused, ready to dive into action. "Yes, Miss Woods?" 

"Tris, do I remember correctly that you have some barista experience?"

"I do," her assistant confirms.

"Any plans for the evening and then the weekend?"

"No, Miss Woods." For a second Lexa wonders if she's the one at fault for her staff not having a social life on Friday night.

"How do you feel about a little trip for a few days? Paid, of course, and you can have a few days off after."

This is surely a stretch of her professional responsibilities, but Tris doesn't even bat an eye. "Sure, Miss Woods."

Well, that was easier than she expected. "Can you be ready in half an hour? I'll explain everything in the car." It's barely past one, so if they set off now, they'll make right to the first hour of the fair. Yes, Lexa snooped around Clarke's social media accounts in the moment of weakness, so she's familiar with the schedule of the evening.

"Got it." Tris nods before swiftly disappearing behind the doors.

"You know," Anya says with a narrowed expression once the woman is gone. "When I was talking about a gift I meant something like a good book or a Christmas sweater. Not your PA."

Yeah, it is rather unconventional, but the brunette has a clear idea in her head and no intention of backing down now. So she doesn't pay her sister's teasing any mind. She's busy with the plan of her evening taking shape.

❄❄❄

So Lexa may have been slightly overconfident, riding the high of the fall of her self-appointed confinement. It didn't last that long though. For the past hour or so, she's been plagued by doubt. What if she misconstrued the meaning of the sticky note? It's possible that Clarke only wanted some feedback on the dessert, like a focus group or something, and Lexa's mind imagined the rest. Wishful thinking in action. What if Clarke sees her return as an intrusion into her personal life? Fuck, Lexa should have probably texted first as normal people do, not sprung into the impromptu trip like a woman on a mission.

But it's too late anyway. They're almost at TonDC, and Lexa refuses to be the weird boss who kidnapped her assistant only to make a U-turn four and a half hours into a five-hour drive. If it comes to worst, they can just walk around the place for a while and then return home. The town didn't spend a year's worth of decoration budget on one square for nothing after all.

When they arrive at their destination, Lexa's surprised by the amount of cars parked along the streets. Maybe the locals are onto something because the fair obviously works wonders at attracting tourists. The brunette has to make two rounds near the center to find a parking spot, finally locating one at the back of the inn.

"Wow," Tris says, studying the trees entangled in glinting fairy lights as they move through the crowd toward the heart of the event. "I did not expect that."

Apparently what Lexa saw two weeks ago wasn't enough because during that time the streets acquired even more stuff. Now in addition to glowing lights along the lampposts, figurines hiding in pretty much every corner, and too many potted Christmas trees to count, all the storefronts are bursting with embellishments as well. The brunette wonders what kind of decor Clarke has chosen for her place.

As they are getting closer to the fair stalls, Lexa's heartbeat begins to climb, and she can feel its pulse in her fingertips. A very peculiar state for someone who is used to being in control of her body. She's so deep in her thoughts, musing about Clarke's possible reaction, that she almost collides with a person walking in her direction. Lexa's stopped only by a strong but gentle grip on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she says, lifting her gaze to see who she was about to bump into and finds Lincoln and Octavia in front of her.

"That's okay, crowds are wild today," the man replies in his typical calm manner, releasing his grasp.

"Oh, thank God!" Octavia exclaims, throwing her arms up, impervious to the rustle of the paper bags she's carrying. Which is quite a strange reaction.

"What?" Lexa asks perplexed.

But the woman doesn't answer her. Instead, she passes the contents of her hands to Lincoln, takes out her phone, and starts typing at an impressively rapid speed. That only bewilders Lexa further. Enough for some of her worry to dissipate into the frozen air. Tris by her side seems even more confused by the whole interaction. It must be very odd for her to see her boss in such an unusual environment.

"Right," Lexa mutters. "We have to get going, actually."

"Oh, sure." Lincoln smiles. She's only seen the man a couple of times, so she obviously isn't very adept at reading his facial expressions, but Lexa can swear there is a spark of conspiracy shining in his eyes. 

Predictably, there is a big line in front of the bakery stall when they get there. So Lexa has a few minutes to tone down her nerves. Tris is likely picking up on the agitation because she keeps glancing at her out of the corner of her eye curiously. But Lexa can't exactly bring herself to care about it right now. She catches a glimpse of blond hair behind the counter when the line moves, and she has to remind herself how to breathe properly. The brunette is slightly embarrassed by this ridiculousness, groaning internally yet helpless to do anything besides praying she won't get a heart attack before the night is over.

Luckily, she's put out of her misery when a few moments later the last person in front of her gets their order and steps away. And then she's looking directly into the sky-blues.

"Hi," she says, a bit sheepishly.

"Lexa." The short sound of her name is laced with hidden meanings, and she's unable to decipher all of them for now. But Lexa's instantly certain she's made the right choice by coming here. Because the smile shining on Clarke's face is the biggest brightest thing she's seen yet. The tension in the brunette's shoulders melts right away.

"Hey," the woman repeats, returning the smile.

"I can't believe you are here! I didn't think I would see you again after getting no texts from you."

"I'm sorry about that." Lexa hears somebody grunt behind her back about it taking too long, but before she can react the customer is swiftly directed into the second line by another bakery employee.

"No, no, it's okay." Clarke waves her regret away. "I'm really glad you came." But she's keeping an eye on the busy line as well because she quickly adds. "I'm sorry, but I have to deal with the crowd for now. I'll find you later? If you're staying?"

Right, the elation seems to be rotting her brain, because Lexa's completely forgotten that she brought reinforcements for specifically this reason.

"Actually," the brunette notes, inclining her head to her side. "I have a solution for this problem if you're willing. This is Tris, my personal assistant. She's extremely proficient at everything she does and also has a lot of barista experience. I was thinking that she could stand in for you for a couple of hours so that you can enjoy the fair. If it's alright?"

Clarke blinks at her once, twice. Surprised by her suggestion. "You can really do that?"

"Of course, Miss Griffin." When Tris is in her professional mode, she quickly transforms from a cute young girl to an ultra-efficient human personification of determination. It's kinda scary when you see it for the first time, accompanied by almost physical change, evident in her posture and laser-focused eyes.

"Okay then." Clarke's internal deliberations don't last long. "Come to the back, please."

The baker gives Tris all the necessary instructions and quickly introduces her to the team, reassuring everyone that she's just one phone call away if things go south. Clarke reappears in front of Lexa a couple of minutes later, blond waves loose, apron left behind.

Before Lexa can utter a word, the air is being squeezed out of her lungs by an enthusiastic embrace. "I did not expect that. Thank you," Clarke mumbles in her ear.

"Glad that you like it. I kinda realized that it may seem a touch crazy when I already dragged Tris here," Lexa admits.

"Well, you definitely know how to keep a girl on her toes," Clarke chuckles, letting go of her. "And it certainly looks like your assistant knows what she's doing," the blonde adds, returning her gaze to the booth where Tris a serving customers with practiced ease.

"Told you, very efficient." Lexa shrugs. This is far from being the most challenging task the woman had to do while working for her.

Fox places two paper cups on the counter and gestures to Clarke. "Shall we explore a little?"

Lexa nods, accepts the drink, and takes a sip, rich chocolaty flavor with notes of spices hitting her tongue. She lets out a muffled sound of pleasure. "This is the best hot chocolate I've ever had."

"Secret holiday recipe." The blonde beams with pride, takes Lexa's hand, and pulls her into the flow of walking people. "Let's go." 

The brunette follows willingly, this time paying attention to her surroundings. The stalls offer a variety of goods, from sweets and snacks to hand-knitted items to carnival games with snowballs. She remembers that Clarke's ideal fair experience includes wandering in the crowd, lost in the sparkling lights, so she decides to keep quiet for a while, simply providing company. They're walking along the improvised market street, still holding hands as Clarke is giddily glancing around. All the while Lexa feels eyes on her back, but each time she tries to find the source she finds people quickly averting their gaze. The only exception happens when they walk past a bench where Octavia and Lincoln are sitting, the black-haired woman sees them and stares straight at Lexa for several moments before breaking eye contact and typing something on her phone again. Huh.

Pretty soon they have covered the whole area, finishing their lap by the Christmas tree in the center of the square. There is now a small stage nearby, probably set up for the lighting ceremony in an hour.

"Thank you for giving me a chance to enjoy the fair again and for coming with me." Clarke turns to her with a soft expression. "I missed you."

"Of course. I missed you too," Lexa confesses and adds after a pause. "I should have texted you."

"Why didn't you?"

"Thought I may have misread the situation," the brunette says honestly.

"Did my number not clue you in?"

"Maybe you just wanted some customer feedback." Lexa shrugs.

"Seriously?" Clarke arches an eyebrow. "I mean yeah, I'm glad to hear your opinions, but that's not the only reason I gave you my number."

What's the reason though? Logically, Lexa understands what Clarke is hinting at, she isn't stupid. But a part of her still distrusts her own evaluation. It's weird because she's never known her mind to be so unsure of something.

The blonde is watching her face attentively and perhaps reading the hesitancy in her features. She makes a step closer, stopping inches from Lexa, and glances at her from under her curly lashes. "So that there is no ambiguous interpretation," she almost whispers and moves further, pressing her lips to Lexa's.

All the doubts dissolve like powdered sugar, and Lexa is kissing her back while her arm finds its way around Clarke's waist. She tastes like chocolate and Christmas miracles and cozy nights by the fire. And Lexa can't for the life of her remember what were the stupid issues on her list about.  

When they break apart shortly, Clarke pulls away her hand from where it found its home at the nape of Lexa's neck and grips her forearm instead, insistently tugging Lexa in an unknown direction.

"Are you trying to abduct me, Clarke?" The brunette giggles uncharacteristically.

"Something like that," she replies without breaking her stride.

Soon she's opening a door to some kind of shed and when Lexa's eyes adjust to the lack of light she sees the leftover holiday stuff lying in there. Seriously, how many decorations can one town own? She doesn't get to wonder for long because once the door is closed, Clarke's gentle lips are on hers again. They stumble in the darkness until Lexa's back is against the wall which gives Clarke a chance to press into her body. So near the blonde smells like sugar and oranges, the sweet scent making Lexa delirious.

The women trade soft kisses for a while, but they are gradually gaining momentum as well. Lexa wishes they were somewhere inside right now, because, despite the warmth coursing through her body, her bare fingers feel like they can freeze off any moment. Also, the tickle of her fur collar pushed into the skin of her neck and the rustle of Clarke's puff jacket every time she moves is an odd background. Not ruining the moment, but enough to leave the brunette fighting delighted happy giggles clawing their way up her throat.

She's saved, a debatable notion, from frostbite by the sound of the door being opened. The sliver of light coming from the outside is growing rapidly, but she can't see the people because of the blonde obscuring the view. Clarke's only reaction to the intrusion is reluctant slowing down of her advances.

But she startles, missing her mark and dragging her lips along Lexa's jaw instead when a voice speaks, "Clarke?"

"Mum?" The woman whirls around to face the door and Lexa follows her gaze.

Now she's free to discover that Jake and a brown-haired woman, apparently Clarke's mother, are standing by the door, sending amused expressions their way. Lexa's sure she appears slightly disheveled with hair in disarray and cheeks red.  Not exactly the best first impression.

"Yes, honey?"

Clarke's only answer is almost palpable waves of awkwardness radiating off her body. Lexa decides to distract the attention to herself. She can hardly avoid some embarrassment at this point anyway.

"Hello, Mrs. Griffin. I'm Lexa." I think I'm mad about your daughter doesn't leave her tongue at least.

"Oh, I'm aware," the woman laughs lightly. Of course, the gossip mill. "Call me Abby, please."

"Nice to meet you, Abby."

"Likewise. But I must say, I haven't been in this situation since Clarke was in high school. What was this boy's name again?" Abby asks, turning to Jake. Both of them clearly enjoying the predicament way too much.

Clarke doesn't allow the conversation to continue, cutting her father off before he can give a reply with a stern, "No word of this to Octavia." She points a finger at her parents for emphasis.

"I think it's a bit too late for that," Jake states. "She was the one who told us where to find you.  Though she didn't mention that you have company." The man's eyes turn to Lexa with a jovial glint in them. "I think it was her revenge for that time you told on her and Linc to Bellamy."

"It's always fun reminiscing with you guys and all that," the blonde says. "But what are you doing here?"

"You didn't pick up your phone, honey," Abby replies. "The ceremony is about to start. We thought you wouldn't want to miss it."

"Oh, thank you." Both of them completely lost track of time. Lexa won't be able to realistically guess what the clock says right now by any measure of accuracy.  "We will be there in a minute."

Clarke's parents nod but don't move an inch, so the blonde waves her hand impatiently towards the door.

"I think it's time for us to go," Abby laughs, ushering her husband outside.

But Jake seemingly can't resist himself, so before leaving he throws, "Be safe kids! I'm too young to be a grandfather."

"Oh my god," Clarke groans loudly, turning to Lexa and hiding her face in the crook of her neck, nestling between the fur. "I'm sorry about them."

"Don't be," Lexa chuckles. "I sort of missed this kind of family interaction."

"Then you'll love the stories that Dad tells to entertain his guests around the dinner table," the blonde's voice comes muffled. "Poking fun at me is his favorite pastime."

The implication that Lexa will be there to hear the stories at a family dinner warms her heart more than she cares to admit. "Should we get back before we miss the lightning?"

"Yeah," Clarke agrees, stepping back and taking a hold of Lexa's hand again. "Let's go."

When they're back at the square, it's already packed tight with people. Lexa spots a few now familiar faces here and there. Tris is animatedly chatting with Fox and a young boy she's never seen before. Clarke's parents are standing by the stage near the police chief. Beside her, Clarke's also studying the crowd, searching for something. When her gaze lands on Octavia, standing with Lincoln on the far side of the mass of people, Clarke sends her a rather impressive death glare. As if feeling eyes on her, the woman glances in their direction, and when she spots Clarke, Octavia points to Lexa and just gives the blonde thumbs up, completely unfazed. She doesn't immediately move to texting at least, though probably not for long, as Lexa suspects the woman is one of the main gossip instigators around this place. 

A man appears on the stage and starts a welcoming speech, thanking people for coming and talking about the history of the tree-lighting tradition. But Lexa barely pays any attention to his words, focused on the beautiful woman leaning into her side instead.

"I have a few new desserts for you to taste. Would you like to try some of them?" Clarke asks casually. Yet Lexa hears the unspoken question entangled between the words. Are you going to stay? This is so very new, and responsibilities are still waiting for her at home, and traveling with her schedule is a logistical nightmare.

But regardless of all of that, Lexa's sure about one thing. "I will, for as long as you want me to."

Clarke beams at her reply. People are starting the countdown. In a few moments, the tree is basking in the warm glow, and the crowd cheers. And Lexa, well, she's never been so grateful for unruly weather before.

❄❄❄

"Babe," Clarke whispers in Lexa's ear, gently pulling the brown locks off her face. "It's time to wake up."

"Not yet," Lexa mumbles, burying her head under the blanket to tune out the noise.

She doesn't see Clarke, but if she had any presence of mind, she would easily guess that the blonde is rolling her eyes as she sits down on the bed beside her. "I can leave you sleeping here, you know. But you'll be upset if you miss the opening."

It was the biggest surprise for Lexa, but when her professional life changed, it turned out that without her demanding schedule, she was such a sleepyhead. These days she gets up only when Clarke comes home to get her to breakfast after having opened the bakery. Lexa struggles to wake up at hours she used to consider normal for years, even if she's the one who requested it in the first place, like what's happening now.

"Who the hell decided to do it this early again?" She complains, turning back to Clarke but not opening her eyes just yet.

"You and my mum did." The blonde brushes her knuckles on Lexa's cheek. "Also, I'm not sure nine in the morning is considered this early."

"Whatever," the brunette grumbles.

"You worked on it too hard, love. You don't want to miss it," Clarke says, standing up. "Also, your coffee and éclairs are waiting for you downstairs."

The bribe is enough to make Lexa blink awake just as Clarke knew it would. "Fine," The brunette complies. "I'll be there in five."

She gets up and drags her sleepy body to the bathroom to quickly go over her morning routine because Clarke's right. She'd hate to miss the grand opening. Lexa's been working on renovating the hospital wing while preserving its historical look for months now, finally putting not only her money but a degree as well to good use. Ever since she finally moved in with Clarke five months ago after constant driving back and forth, she's been pulling long hours, consulting with Abby and other doctors to do it exactly right. And after all this effort, Lexa can't wait to see her creation operational. Long-forgotten pride of making something of her own is a powerful drug and Clarke likes to joke that with her dedication, Lexa's going to struggle not to fix every broken nook and cranny in the town.

Anya's mission in life has been accomplished. Lexa didn't write a resignation letter of course and still has all her shares, but she significantly cut down on her hours at the company. Albeit after a long search but she found a replacement for her position, and luckily Luna turned out to be an amazing CEO. Now Lexa works for the company only two days a week, most of it remotely, her sister was right, Zoom proved itself to be a very useful invention indeed. There are occasional trips to Polis, for a meeting in the office or visiting Anya, but most of her time is spent right here in TonDC, doing her personal projects. And it's going great.

It's not only about Clarke or her reduced schedule. It's also the town where her soul feels like it found its place. Lexa loves their little hikes up the mountain, gossiping with Octavia while she's cooing around the baby, spending time at the gym with Linc, or weekly card games after a family dinner with Jake, who she discovered to be a canning cheat every time you aren't watching him closely, even Indra seems like she might be finally warming up to her. Lexa's built a community here, and she feels at peace in this tiny flat she calls home with the woman she loves. Everything is as it should be, just one thing is missing.

Once done with her routine, Lexa crouches down and reaches for a small object, hidden among cleaning supplies at the back of the cabinet under the sink. A few minutes later, she's devouring the breakfast in her chair downstairs when Clarke appears from the kitchen.

"Ready?"

"Yeah," Lexa confirms, taking the last sip of her coffee. "You're driving."

"Okay," Clarke agrees, putting on her puffy jacket. "Are we still on for tonight's dinner?"

"We are."

"Will you finally tell me where we're going?"

"Nope," the brunette says, buttoning up her coat.

"Why all the secrecy? You know I don't do well with surprises," Clarke complains.

"I think you'll like this one," Lexa replies confidently despite her growing nerves about her plans for the evening. But she has a pretty good guess of what Clarke's answer is going to be. Eventually, she's right.