Definitely, Maybe

A/N ~ Welcome to my first Clexa fic! If you know me well, you'll understand my affinity for college AUs. (I understand how American college/uni works now.) (I'm very proud of myself.) If not, welcome aboard. Have a biscuit and enjoy your stay. Since I don't have internet where I live, updates may be sporadic, although I'll aim to post once a week. Since Lexa's background (and several other things) is somewhat murky on the show, I'm taking a bit of artistic liscence.

Also starring... Sassy mechanic! Raven, Adorable Linctavia, Fanatical professor! Jaha, Bellamy With Good Intentions, rock-and-roll TA Anya, Uno Gangsters, 1000% Done Murphy, Team Jaspmayonty and also reapers, but not in the way you might think.

1.

"I can handle the next box, Mom - Mom, Mom, okay, okay -" Clarke collapsed onto her new bed, and wondered if she'd ever get used to that squeak.

There were a lot of things she wondered if she'd get used to. Like the constant torrent of people talking and laughing and living, noise cascading through the thin, white-painted door. Or the prospect of fraternities just across the lawn. And then there was the roommate problem, which still seemed to be dodging her. Maybe it'd avoid her until it ran itself into the ground.

Her mom was frowning. Abigail Griffin was not a particularly frowny person (nor a particularly smiley one.) but Clarke was sure this was the right situation for it. In the pocket of her jeggings, she could feel the vibration of yet another text from Raven buzzing in through her battered phone. "Honey," Abby sighed, placing the plastic box of books on top of her empty dresser, in a way that made Clarke's temples throb with impending annoyance. She knew what was coming next. "I don't know. Don't you think you should at least meet this girl before you go -"

"Mom,"

"And you know where the nearest grocery store is?"

"Mom."

"Fine, I'm stressing! I'm stressing," Abby glanced at her watch and then back at Clarke. "You want me to leave?"

Clarke's phone gave another insistant buzz as she tried to look sincere. "No, no," Somewhere outside the window, people were being loud. Jaha Wood was reknown for being a decent, diverse university, so she was sure she wasn't being stupid, that the amount of frat houses she'd seen was weird. "It's just that I told everyone we could all eat together, and I need to unpack, and -"

"I'll go," Clarke rose obilgatorily to join the hug her mother was offering. "Back to my sad and lonely nest. I'm gonna miss you. Don't talk to any frat boys. Call me. I love you. I love you." And like ripping off a plaster, she was out the dormitory door before Clarke could say anything more than the instinctive love you, too.

But she wasn't going to focus on her mom right now. This was college. Fresh start. Ninety-seven miles south of the past. And she had to unpack. Which, apparantly, her mystery roommate had already done, claiming the bed closest to the door. Clarke found herself shooting several fretful glances that way as she dropped to her knees and ran her penknife along the seam of one of her clothes boxes, loading folded shirts and jeans into the drawers of the bedside table. All she knew about the girl she would be spending the looming year within throwing distance of was that her name was Lexa, and that she had been peculiarly missing during freshmen orientation a few weeks before. (And while Clarke had been going to pieces over how many photos was too many for days, her roommate's side of the room seemed bizarrely bare. Weird, pattered scarlet-auburn sheets. Stacked notebooks. Clunky black laptop. Meticulously organized eye makeup.) (On second thoughts, maybe she had only half unpacked.)

At another violent vibration from deep inside her pocket, Clarke supposed she should probably send Raven a reply. Her background photo was a botched group selfie, slightly mutilated by the crack creeping up from the corner of her screen. Six new messages. Great.

The first was from Jasper. The eagle has landed! She felt herself smile, so she texted back a thumbs up emoji, and a still unpacking. As she'd expected, the next three were Raven's. Her name and her goofy, grinning contact picture still sent Clarke's stomach knotting. Things had been weird, for what seemed like forever, after they started seeing each other in groups again, after the phase of enraged silence. But summer had brought tentative toddler steps toward friendship, and now, she supposed, to any outsider, it would have looked normal again. It didn't feel normal. It felt like... She didn't know. It felt like some phantom Finn was still lingering there between them. Uneasy in the shade. Like a stain they couldn't quite scrub out.

Maybe Raven felt the same, maybe she didn't, but either way, she'd been going nuts over the Engineering and Mechanics programme here, and she'd been texting everyone all day. And the Rave-tavia party dorm is open for business! Recieved about an hour before Clarke and Abby had arrived.

Everyone still up for christening the cafeteria together? Group message.

Griffin, you around yet?

Why couldn't everyone just stop fussing? She keyed in a hasty reply and thumbed through the two texts from her mom. One read like a after-school special listing of illicit activities to avoid at all costs. The second was an apology for the first. She'd call her back later. The next time Clarke looked at the clock on her phone, two and half hours had dissolved, and she had a halfway decent living space. The dorm was small, but she'd managed to stow most of her shoes and art stuff in clear boxes beneath the bed, and the standard airy college curtains tied back from generous windows gave almost an impression of space. She was lining up books along the sill, having given up on fixing her lamp after recieving several mild shocks, when her ringtone exploded to life and scared the shit out of her. Jesus. Glad the roommate's AWOL now, huh? Octavia. Clarke swiped the answer button.

"Griffin!" She winced at the sudden, remarkable decibel of her friend's voice so suddenly assaulting her ear. "Clarke Griffin - in my phone!"

"Yeah," Assuming this was the call to the big canteen-christening of '15, she scrabbled for a pair of boots under the beds, tossing Octavia's speakerphone-loud greeting onto the pillow and pulling on her shoe. "Are you high?"

"No, idiot, I'm happy. College! Parties! Courses! Friends!" Slightly worried about the order of those. "We're all going down to the caf at Kane Hall, that's where you live, right?"

"Yep," Clarke grabbed her dorm key and wondered if she was ever actually going to see her roommate. "I'll see you in a sec."

"Laters,"

Should she leave a note? For the mystery roommate? Whatever. Clarke heard the door click shut satisfylingly, and then the less satisfyingly, an unintelligible jamb as she fruitlessly attempted to yank her key back from the lock. Shit. She could feel the anger boil in an uncomfortable prickling in her face.Shit shit shit shit shit. Left. Right. Out. Her key wasn't going anywhere. Well, she couldn't just leave it like that. It was shit like this that they left out of the damn brochures. For some reason she decided it would be a good idea to slam her fist against the lock, which succeeded in reddening her hand and rattling the key in an unnerving and entirely useless way. "Need a hand, there?"

Clarke spun irritibly to find a muscular, shaven-headed guy in a faded Bon Jovi t-shirt, attatching his dorm key onto a crowded keyring. "What's it look like?" She hated the way that had come out. But she had a right to be rattled.

"Here," He brushed past her and reached for her grey-capped key, "You turn it this way a little, then back left all the way. See?" She saw. Clarke filled her lungs and calmed herself, taking the key from his offer. "Had a friend in there last year. I'm Lincoln, by the way,"

"Clarke," Clarke offered begrudgingly. "Thank you,"

"No problem," The guy - Lincoln - shrugged, hefting his duffel bag over his shoulder. "Well. I gotta run, or Professor Wallace'll skin me. Never sign up for TA-ing."

That snagged in her thought process. "Professor Wallace as in Professor Wallace Senior from the Mount Weather campus?" She forced a smile, for the sake of potential future classmates. "You're an art student?"

He returned her smile, except his was more genuine. "I'm still trying stuff out, but yeah, for the minute. I'm liking it."

"Cool. Anyway... See you in class, maybe?" Clarke had had to whine and wheedle and send sketch after sketch before the board let her in to the advanced Practical Art course; freshmen in there were almost unheard of. But she was determined to handle it.

"Yeah," Lincoln nodded, hurrying off down the hallway to the stairwell.

And now I'm late. Retrieving her phone, Clarke started after Lincoln, tapping an on the way to Octavia and flying down two flights to the cafeteria. The whole building was overly signposted, and she was sure she had a pretty good memory anyway. She was hesitating by the Kane Hall main lobby, when they, thankfully, found her. "Clarke!"

"Oh -" Octavia nearly bowled her over, bounding through the double-doors to the cafeteria, followed by Jasper, and Monty, who was taking pictures of everything. Raven looked somewhat amused. "Hi."

"By the way," Bellamy warned, appearing at the tail end of the pack with a smile. "Octavia's gone insane."

"She's just excited. You should try it sometime," Clarke joked, keeping pace with him and following Raven's ponytail into the dining hall. Raven hadn't said anything to her. She'd smiled. That was a good sign.

"Oh, please. It's my second year. Been there, done that,"

"We're back, bitches!" Octavia affirmed too loudly, going to lay her jacket down on a table. By the time they'd all made it back to their chairs with trays loaded, Clarke was a little closer to letting go of her irritibility. (Which, really, she couldn't be blamed for.) (It wasn't her fault she'd dragged the bro code through the mud last year.) (And then stomped on it.) (A lot.) (No - fresh school, fresh start.) "So, guys, how goes the living situation?"

"Dorm Rave-tavia!" Raven whooped, leaning across Jasper to high-five Octavia. Monty coughed something that sounded like ameteurs and Clarke smiled into her sandwich. "What was that, Greene?"

"Jasper's got the hots for the girl across the hall," Monty teased.

"Throw me under the bus, why don't you?" Jasper muttered. Octavia wiggled her eyebrows expectantly. "And I do not have the hots for Maya. She helped me decorate."

"She's a mountain man." Monty offered. "She studied with them all last year, she said so."

"Wait, mountain man? I thought we were talking about a lady," Raven put in.

Monty looked exasperated. "Mountain men. Like, the Mount Weather premeds. It's not a gender term, it's what the grounders round here call them."

Clarke restrained a laugh. "Do I want to know what a grounder is?"

"Seriously, did you not research this place at all? Grounders. Like, all those weird guys - and girls - who all come from 'round here."

Raven was laughing. "Where do you get this information?" Clarke grinned, and then her eyes flickered across the table and caught Raven's for a moment. Shit. You shouldn't he to be uneasy and awkward messing around with your hometown friends. (Then again, you shouldn't have the Finn issue in the first place.) (No. Clarke was not going to be ashamed of her descisions.) "Well, what are we, then?"

"Arkers." Monty answered, plainly, as if that wasn't stupid. "Cause we're from Ark. Or Sky People, cause Ark's in the middle of Sky."

"So, we're all referred to by the names of the cities we come from?" Raven hadn't looked back at her.

"Bellamy, you've been here a year, help me out here,"

"I'm staying out of this,"

"Hey, Clarke," Clarke looked up to see the key guy, Lincoln, from across the hall nod at her as he passed their table. She nodded back, slightly awkwardly. It took her a moment to realize he hadn't looked at her for more than a second - and, Clarke noticed, Octavia hadn't looked at anything since that second. Huh. Maybe things were about to get really interesting.

"Wow, Clarke, who's your friend?" Octavia was grinning at him from across the flourescent-lit cafeteria. "He's hot."

"He's not my friend," Clarke shrugged. "He's Lincoln, he's in the room across the hall." He taught me how to shut a door, because apparantly that's the kind of thing I need intruction on. She had a feeling co-ed dorm blocks were a bad idea.

"I propose we all go hang out in Clarke's room." Octavia declared, toying with a mayonnaise-saturated french fry.

"Well, you'll have to check with Clarke's invisible roommate," Clarke balled up the wrapper from her sandwich.

"Well, I say we introduce you all to the wonder of dorm Rave-tavia." Raven interjected.

"I think I'm just going to check out to gym." The words were out of her mouth from instinct. She'd been dodging too much time with Raven up until a few weeks ago; Clarke wasn't a runner; she tackled her problems head on. But old habits died hard. And she really did want to see that gym.

"Girl's a machine," Jasper commented.

"Nice goggles. How's the early 20th centuary pilot look working out for you? Seduce many eligible land girls lately?" Clarke raised her eyebrows, restraining a smirk and trying not to wonder whether it sounded like she was back to avoiding Raven again, particularly with the ignoring the texts situation earlier.

"Shots fired," Octavia commented.

"Hey, I was complimenting you!" Jasper protested.

"Yeah, yeah," Clarke muttered, rising to deposit her tray on the tray thing. "I am going to go muscle up,"

"See ya,"

"Good luck with the roommate, Griffs -"

"Text me back!"

-0-

The brochures of Jaha Woods all bragged about the state of the art gym, free for the first six months of membership, complete with sauna and cafè. Clarke was itching to get into it. She wasn't really a workout freak, or a muscle-obsessed bodybuilder. But she'd joined the gym back in Ark last year, after she'd started running for stress relief. Turns out, excercise was a good outlet for that kind of thing. Plus, it was good to know she could defend herself if the situation demanded it.

The gym was by the sports block, not too far to walk from Kane Hall. When she stopped back at the room to toss her gear and Nikes and headphones and Lucozade into her sport bag, her roommate was still gone. Or maybe she was gone again; her things were untouched. Although the sun was just yeilding to the rising blend of the night, the lampposts were vivid, and the gym was closer than she thought.

She'd signed up on orientation day, and she was just assuring herself she'd actually put, her student ID in her purse, when she saw the girl coming, the other way, and, out of the goodness of her heart, held the door open for her. The girl brushed past her quickly (and damn rudely), but Clarke couldn't stop herself gaping a little bit. Firstly, because if looks could kill, and secondly, because she was quite fucking beautiful. (And had the most insane eyeliner she'd ever seen.)

All thick, dark hair, and enormous eyes, and terrifying boots, tall and athletic-looking, and Clarke, stop checking out the random brunette who looks like she wants to stab you. What the hell was that? Clarke frowned, slightly concerned, and hurried on into the main room, making a beeline for the cross trainer. Finn really messed her up good.

Thank god she worked out harder when she was annoyed.

Clarke ran into Lincoln in the hallway again, on her way back, but she tried to discourage active conversation due to the fact she couldn't be bothered to shower, and probably smelled as good as she looked. It wasn't that bad. She liked to shower in the morning - fresh start to a fresh day. There was no point going out of her way now; she wanted to get in an early night before her first day.

"Well, glad you know how to work your door now," Lincoln nodded mildly, ducking into his own room as Clarke unlocked her own, feeling like he was only being polite by not mentioning her state. She almost had a fucking heart attack when she registered the other human being in the room.

"Um, hi?" Clarke regained control of her sports bag and tossed it onto her bed, reaching across it for her phone. It was that motion that gave her a clearer view of her roommate.

Fuck.

She could feel her heart tighten into lead and sink through her insides like water. It had to be her. The thousands of students at this damn university and it had to be her. (And Clarke had to formally meet her looking like a pink-faced, tangle-haired monster and reeking like an armpit. Naturally.) "I'm Clarke," She forced the words out and winced at the breathless, just-worked-out-then-ran-up-four-flights-of-stairs quality her voice retained so well. If this didn't set the tone for her upcoming college life, she didn't know what did.

"I'm Lexa," Lexa said, without looking up from her scratched black laptop.

Well.

This was going to be fun.