Friday Morning, May 27th (Just outside of Raleigh, NC)

Clarke was pretty sure she was literally vibrating, splayed out on her hammock as she mowed down on her breakfast, the spoon in her hand shaking ever so slightly with each dip into her granola. It wasn't just the cicadas buzzing in the distance from the humid morning air; no, it felt like liquid excitement was coursing through her body.

It wasn't every day she got to go off on a road trip and meet old friends, after all. It certainly wasn't a common thing for her to witness her best friend getting married, either.

She'd known Lexa since freshman year in college, and they'd grown thick as thieves within the first week at their dorm. Of course, Lexa was always trying to keep her out of trouble, but once upon a time, she was a bit of a wildcard, and her poor BFF would get dragged into her many messes.

Honestly, it was a miracle that they remained friends through everything, but it was certainly not a fact of life she would ever take for granted. Lexa was precious to her, and even though distance had made visiting less common in the past two years, they still Skyped multiple times a week. Lexa never missed a scheduled call; if her best friend was anything, it was devoted. Both to their friendship and to Costia.

Costia, who Lexa had been dating since high school, with the exception of seven months after college graduation. Costia, the woman who was such a pure goddamn cinnamon roll that it was impossible to even think a mean thought about her. Costia, whose joyful exuberance and selfless kindness had captured Lexa's heart and never let it go. The wedding the following weekend was honestly a long time coming.

Sometimes, Clarke thought about those seven months, though. About the four where she had taken her shot with Lexa before her best friend went back to Costia.

"No use thinking about that...she's been back with Costia for over two years, and they're happy. And I'm..." Clarke started to herself, words catching in her throat as she considered their accuracy.

Fact was, she really was happy. She managed an art gallery in the city, and she sold her own works regularly enough on top of that to have a comfortable living, and her life was good. One missing element couldn't spoil her happiness, it could only add an asterisk, that maybe she could be happier.

Clarke shook her head and focused on the day at hand. The road trip would bring more than enough extra happiness. Ten days of freedom and good friends by her side could promise that much.

She was on her way back inside when she heard her cell ringing. Clarke had talked to everyone she needed to the previous night, so she wasn't sure who could be calling, urging her past her screen door and into her living room, quickly snatching the device up and bringing it to her ear.

"Hello?" She asked immediately upon answering, knowing she'd been lazy enough out on the hammock. It wasn't long until she'd have to leave, so she hoped it wouldn't be another hour or two-long calls from her mother.

"Good morning, Clarke." Lexa's warm voice met her ears, filling her with relief. Her BFF tended to be succinct, and always managed to brighten her day.

"Morning, Lexa. What's up? I thought you had a class right now?" Clarke asked, pushing aside any worries of something being wrong, given how calm her friend sounded. Still, it wasn't like Lexa to sideline her class to make a phone call.

"I do, but a bit of a...family emergency popped up. It's nothing too major..." Lexa added quickly in amending the whole emergency bit, which had Clarke breathing a little easier. "...but do you remember my cousin, Anya?"

Clarke nodded to herself as she thought back. "She's Lincoln's sister, right? I remember I never got to meet her...she visited both holidays I went down south to visit my dad."

"That really was a shame, I always thought you two would get along. Anyways, she was going to drive up here mid next week for the wedding, but her car completely died on her, finally. She's kind of caught out in the middle of nowhere with no way to get to an airport, or a car rental service, and..." Lexa began, sort of rambling for the first time in a very long time, meaning this was a lot more important than her best friend was leading on.

Which, really, gave her an idea. "It's no problem, Lexa. If she's up for it, I can take her along on my road trip?"

"I appreciate the offer. Anya is...pretty introverted, and she's got a hard shell, but she's special to me, and well worth knowing, Clarke. I'll ask her if she's okay with that plan and call you back, if that's alright?" Lexa asked, being her usual reasonable self. After all, there was a big difference between leaving midway through next week directly to Lexa's place, and going on a week-long road trip before ending up at the cape.

"Sounds good to me. I'll drive her wherever she needs to be...whether it's today, or circling back to pick her up on our way back north, I'm happy to help. Let her know that, alright?" Clarke shot back with a grin, all too happy to have more company on her trip. She'd been planning on two days of solo travel down to Florida, but if she could have company, that would make the drive a hell of a lot better.

"Thanks, Clarke. I'll let you know what she decides." Lexa returned, the call cutting off a second later, leaving Clarke to pocket the phone and finish the last of her packing.

Which was basically just bringing her two canvases out of her studio and moving everything to the trunk of her vehicle.

Still, if she had to potentially go off her planned path, it was best to be prepared. After all, she had no idea where Anya lived, and she had a room reserved down in Charleston already, so she needed to be flexible and ready to go.

She was just securing her canvases in the back of her Volvo when her phone rang again. Not wanting to waste Lexa's time, knowing the woman had a class to tend to, she leaned the canvases up against the back seats and pulled out her phone.

"Hey, what's the verdict?" Clarke noted as she answered the phone, mentally crossing her fingers in hopes she'd have a passenger to keep her from boredom.

"Anya's...a little anxious about it, but she's ready to go whenever you're able to pick her up." Lexa answered, painting a picture of her cousin that might be a little awkward. Still, that wasn't new territory; she remembered how awkward Lexa had been her first year at college. Maybe Anya was a little skittish in the same way.

"Sounds like a girl after my own heart, all packed and ready for adventure." Clarke mused, drawing an abrupt laugh from her best friend. "Seriously, though, where's she living?"

Clarke could hear the sound of flipping pages for a moment, Lexa clearly still devoted to the dead tree format for her lectures, as always. "She's living just outside of New Bern, along the edge of Croatan national forest."

She thought for a moment, doing a mental scan of the state, vaguely recalling it was along the coastline somewhere, which meant it likely wouldn't be too long of a trek. "Barely a stone's throw away. I'll pick her up today, just send me a text of her address, and I'll be good to go."

"You don't know how thankful I am for this. And...I'm really looking forward to seeing you again, Clarke." Lexa noted warmly, Clarke able to hear the other woman's smile in her voice.

"I'll be at your doorstep sooner than you'll realize, Lexa. This week will go faster for you than me, I'm sure." Clarke spoke with a grin, knowing Costia was probably a whirlwind right now, and the woman's mother, Luna, was probably on the warpath to get everything perfect for the wedding. Clarke was sure Lexa would be so caught up in everything, that when next Thursday evening rolled around, they'd probably catch her by surprise upon arrival. "Anyway, you take care. Don't let Luna drag you around."

Lexa's laugh was a wonderful way to cap off her last minutes at home. "I promise. Have a safe trip, Clarke. Say hi to everyone for me."

"I will. Bye, Lexa." Clarke finished, waiting for her best friend's respective goodbye before hanging up and repositioning her canvases to make more room for whatever Anya would be bringing with them.

Clarke had a feeling the next ten days would be pretty spectacular.

Tokyo Police Club's 'Not Sick' blared from her speakers as she cruised down a narrow little back road, fifteen or so minutes south of town. She couldn't help but be a little relieved that Lexa's directions proved true, a bright yellow mailbox at the side of the road clear as day, letting her slow down in time to drive off onto the gravel, mostly secluded driveway.

The brush cleared a few seconds later, revealing a decent sized home and property that seemed well kept. Clarke spotted a walkway leading up to the house and parked alongside it so it'd be easier to haul any luggage out to the vehicle.

Clarke checked the area around her, not wanting her soon-to-be passenger to have to deal with any mess, but the inside of her car was well kept enough for her to think it wouldn't be an issue. Content with that much, she stepped out and started up the walkway, only to freeze in place when a woman stepped out of the front door.

She didn't get a good enough glimpse before the woman turned to close and lock the door, but she did see long waves of dirty blonde hair cascading down past her shoulders. She saw the short trenchcoat cinched at the woman's waist, giving her a slim figure with subtle and alluring curves. And she saw legs that were long enough that they could kill a man from five hundred yards.

Oh no, she's hot...

Clarke could feel the gay sweats coming on, and immediately regretted not demanding photo evidence from Lexa beforehand to prevent this. She remembered her best friend saying Anya wasn't a fan of cameras, but all Clarke could think about that was that she really deserved a fair warning.

It was when the woman turned around and met her gaze that she knew she was completely in trouble, that familiar underboob sweat probably coming out at double the rate for how much of a desert the inside of her mouth had become. Sunglasses held the woman's bangs away from her face, and never before had she felt such a strong urge to nuzzle a person's cheekbones.

Over six hundred and fifty miles to Cape Canaveral...Six hundred and fifty miles alone in the car with her until we pick up Raven. I am so fucked...oh god, this is either going to be amazing, or miserable...

Clarke pushed through her awkwardness and closed the distance. "Hi, you must be Anya." She greeted with her best smile, reaching out a hand on instinct.

And quickly realizing that Anya's hands were indeed already full, one hauling luggage, and the other holding her bag.

To the woman's credit, Clarke's awkward greeting was met with a furrowed brow and equally awkward silence, Anya standing all stiff and tall, warm brown eyes displaying clear uncertainty.So we're both a bit of a mess...okay...

"Let me get your luggage." Clarke offered in hopes of salvaging a first impression, an offer which was thankfully accepted, a bit of the awkwardness falling away at the hint of a smile on Anya's lips.

"Thank you, Clarke." Anya noted quietly, following her back to the SUV, sort of teetering at Clarke's periphery as she placed the woman's bags in the trunk. "This is a nice vehicle."

Clarke could appreciate the attempt at small talk in favour of utter silence, so she smiled and shut the rear door. "It's pretty great. I saved a few years for it, and it's roomy, so it really helps me move artwork from place to place without damaging it."

To be honest, her old Kia Forte had probably been brought up directly from hell to curse her, with how many paintings of hers had been damaged in transit due to how cramped it had been. Her Volvo XC90 was a dream in comparison with how much cargo space it had, and how so many of the seats could fold down to make pretty much anything of hers, or her gallery's, fit inside.

"Lexa mentioned you're an artist. Is...that what the canvases are for?" Anya asked, sounding a good mix of curious and hesitant. Clarke could understand the former, but not so much the latter. Still, Lexa's words rang in her head, and she figured the woman might just be as anxious as her cousin claimed.

Clarke nodded and gestured towards the front of the vehicle. "Yeah, every time I take a road trip, I bring two with me. One to paint in the middle of the trip, one at the end." She answered as she got into the driver's seat, Anya following suit on the passenger side.

Clarke gulped hard as even more of the woman's legs became exposed; she was almost certain Anya was wearing nothing under the trench until she caught the edge of inexplicably tiny black shorts. Or, well, not inexplicably, given how hot and humid it was outside.

She willed her gaze upwards, scanning Anya's face, taking in the sight of the woman's brow furrowing and unfocused eyes facing dead ahead. Clarke thought the woman would continue the small talk, but apparently, the easy inroad about her career wasn't as much of a pull as she thought it'd be.

"Anyway, it's over ninety degrees out. What's with the trench?" She asked, putting on her seatbelt and starting her Volvo. Her question was met with silence, at least for a few moments, which she took to do a three point turn and drive back out.

They were back at the main road when Anya finally spoke. "We're heading south. The forecast calls for rain this afternoon through tomorrow morning all along the Atlantic coastline south of us."

Clarke nodded at that, not having cared to check the weather, since it never really bothered her on road trips. That was, after all, part of the adventure. Still, it made for a reasonable explanation. "Well, it looks really nice on you."

The blush on Anya's cheeks was red enough for her to catch sight of it in her periphery, though the absence of a smile, along with the slightly laboured breathing, had her wondering if the compliment had been welcome. I said it about as innocently as any basic compliment...I don't think I was suggestive...

Ultimately, she decided to just move past it, and shift focus. "It's good that we finally met. I meant to in the past, but every year you came down to see Lexa, I'd already made plans to see my dad."

"That is true." Anya noted concisely, jaw working slightly as silence stretched on once more. "I don't feel very comfortable that I have you at such a disadvantage, Clarke. Lexa spoke often about you...I'm sure she didn't tell you much about me."

Clarke shrugged, knowing the woman's point was true. Still, if that was making her passenger clam up and feel anxious, then she'd do her best to smooth that out. "She said enough...and besides, I really wasn't looking forward to a long drive alone down to Florida. You pretty much made the next day and a half a whole lot better, so I'm kind of in your debt. Maybe I can get to know you a bit more on the way down? Make that disadvantage more comfortable, if you're up for that?"

Anya's head tilted towards her, and she could feel those warm amber eyes watching her carefully as they made their way down the narrow road. "If I have the right to veto any question...then I suppose, yes."

Clarke figured that was reasonable enough, especially since she wasn't too tremendously nosy regarding people she trusted. And if Lexa trusted Anya, then she trusted Anya.

"I think we're going to have fun these next few days, Anya. I've got a good feeling about this."

It only took about forty minutes for that good feeling to just about entirely vanish.

Not that she hadn't tried holding onto it, but it seemed like everything she said or did only managed to make Anya more uncomfortable. Compliments? Out the window. Friendly questions? Generally vetoed unless they were answerable with yes or no, and even then. Even offers for Anya to look through her phone for music she might want to listen to were soundly ignored without acknowledgement.

So at the forty-ish minute mark, it started making more sense to wonder if she'd made a huge mistake bringing the woman along. Clarke yearned to have more company, but company that just didn't seem comfortable with her? That wouldn't work. Not in the long haul.

And really, she wasn't sure how long Anya could sit so rigidly and tense before blowing a tendon or something.

Clarke saw the sign for Jacksonville and figured that maybe lunch and some fresh air would do them some good. "Hey, I'm getting a little hungry. Would you mind if we stopped for some lunch?"

Almost on cue, Clarke heard the faintest of stomach growls come from the woman beside her, letting her know that finally, she might be able to do something right this afternoon.

Anya's silent nod was more than enough to have her scanning the surrounding areas for something tasty as they entered the city limits.

It was a few minutes later when she saw it, the perfect way to start off her road trip food adventure. While Clarke enjoyed sit-in restaurants plenty, there was something special about a good food truck when she was on the road.

Clarke manoeuvred her way off the highway and over to the parking lot the truck was doing business in, and shut the car off, turning her head to face Anya. "Ready to see what they've got?"

Anya just stared ahead and took a hard swallow, oddly nervous for whatever reason. "I'm not hungry. I'll wait here until you get back, if that's alright."

Clarke's teeth gnawed at her lower lip, unsure what to do. She knew Anya's stomach was gurgling, and that they wouldn't get into Charleston until six or seven depending on traffic. Five hours, on top of how long Anya had already waited since eating, was a bit much.

Still, she didn't want to push her passenger or anything. Lexa had said her cousin was a bit of an introvert, but even introverts had to eat. No matter how masked with politeness and manners to deflect potential questions, Clarke felt there was something she was missing with Anya.

"Yeah, sure thing. I'll be back in a few." She noted, leaving the vehicle and making her way to get in line. It was the tail end of the lunch rush, but it at least gave her time to check the truck's menu on her phone. It only took a few seconds for her to decide on her order; she'd never had bison before, and a sandwich with it was a mini-adventure that would maybe help make up for how badly she'd flubbed the trip so far.

It was her gut, however, that nagged her to not just return with something for herself. Anya was hungry, even if she didn't want to voice it, so she scanned the menu for something generally accessible and harmless, knowing that they would be snacks for further down the road if Anya didn't go for them.

About ten minutes later, she slipped back into the driver's seat, resting one bag on her lap and placing the other on the dash. Clarke reached to the backseat console and grabbed two bottles of water to put in the cup holders, noticing that as she returned, Anya was staring at the bag on the dash longingly.

"Hey, I'm not sure what kind of traffic we'll hit getting to Charleston. Myrtle Beach is always a shit show on Fridays with the tourists heading in, and the locals trying to get the hell home. I figured grabbing some extra food couldn't hurt, you know?" Clarke stated as nonchalantly as she could, trying to keep her eyes fixated on her own meal instead of how Anya leaned ever so much closer to the dash, head tilting up slightly as if she was about to sniff.

"That makes sense. What did you get?" Anya asked quietly, with a hint of hesitation, but at least the woman was talking.

"Never been to a French cuisine food truck before, so I picked up some macarons, a small apple pie thing, a raspberry jam crepe, and a veggie sandwich." Clarke answered, hoping she covered a few bases with her order. She was willing to chance that some food might end up uneaten by her passenger, forcing her to mow down on a bunch of baked goods later that evening or perhaps the next morning instead of breakfast. "Would it be okay to keep the bag at your feet? The backseat console's got a space for it, but it's far back enough I'm pretty sure both of us would dislocate our shoulders trying."

"Oh...ah, does it have to?" Anya asked in return, once again baffling her.

"Are you allergic? Is there something funky smelling that's gonna make you nauseous?" Clarke shot back with only a slight bit of frustration leaking through.

That slight hint, however, did harden Anya's features, the woman closing her eyes, breathing in and out slowly. "I am not. There is not."

"Then help me out here, please." Clarke let out, deciding to just be up front and blunt about it, because she really, desperately, wanted to fix whatever was wrong there between them.

Anya exhaled sharply through her nose and let her head bow forward, shoulders sagging slightly with the motion. "I get motion sick very easily." The whispered admission had the woman's face blooming red for whatever reason.

Honestly, Clarke was just happy to know more about Anya, even as her brain put some pieces together. Still, she ended up with a puzzle lacking a few key pieces. "Okay, thanks for letting me know that. But...what does it have to do with the food?"

"I'm already stressed from my car breaking down, and now I'm going on a road trip for the first time with someone I don't know. I stopped stress eating years ago, but I know if that bag is at my feet for the next few hours, I'll probably end up eating it all, and there won't be any left for you." Anya clarified, offering information that Clarke hadn't considered.

She nodded slowly at the rather candid words, knowing she had to tread carefully and respect it or else her passenger could curl back in on herself again. "Anya, you're new to this, so I guess it's my fault for not telling you, but the first rule of road trips when it comes to food is that anything not set aside for a specific person? It's everyone's. It's fair game. So if you ate everything in that bag, I wouldn't be disappointed...concerned that you'd spoil your dinner, maybe, or get an upset stomach, but that's it." Clarke explained, drawing the woman's eyes to open and focus on her once again. "These ten days are my vacation for the year. It's where I let myself loosen up, have some fun, and spoil the people at my side. Now, if you aren't comfortable with the food staying up front, for whatever reason, that's fine with me. Okay?"

Anya offered a silent nod at that, visible relief softening her expression. "I appreciate that, Clarke."

"Cool. Though, I'd honestly appreciate it if you ate that raspberry crepe before we stash the snacks away, because if I have to smell that for the next four hours, I might turn into a bit of a food zombie." Clarke requested, hoping her passenger would do her that kindness.

Anya seemed to consider for a few moments before nodding. "I suppose it could tide me over until dinner."

Clarke could hardly suppress a smile as she ate, not just because her sandwich was tasty as heck, but with Anya eating along as well, the rest of the snacks stowed away in the back seat. At least she won't be starving when we get to Charleston...

When they finished, Clarke tossed their trash in a Ziploc bag and banished it to the back seat for the time being. "So, I could take a few minutes to find a way down to Charleston that keeps stop-and-go traffic to a minimum. Can't promise it'll make for the best scenery, but I'd be happy to try and find something more interesting than a boring old highway."

"Wouldn't that take longer?" Anya asked hesitantly, brow furrowing over softened amber eyes, head tilting to the side slightly in confusion. Clarke could hardly blink away the butterflies in her stomach from her passenger staring at her like that.

She really has to put those puppy dog eyes away... Clarke mused to herself before remembering that the woman was probably expecting an answer. "Sure, but it'd probably just be thirty minutes, tops. I'm fine with that, so long as you are...I just want to make sure you're as comfortable as possible. Besides, what kind of road trip would it be if we only stuck to major highways?"

"I don't know. I've never been on one." Anya deadpanned, raising an eyebrow in friendly reminder that the woman had made that fact clear a few times already that trip.

"Okay, that's fair. But anyway, it'd be pretty boring. Taking some back roads could be fun...and this thing's suspension is really sweet, so it's not going to jostle you around or anything. Sound like a plan?" She asked, earning a small smile from her notably relieved passenger.

"Yes. Yes it does."

That was enough optimism for Clarke to feel that maybe things were turning around in time to salvage their day.

The drive to Charleston wasn't bad. In all honesty, it was nice to drive the occasional winding road, past farm fields, and under the boughs of willow trees. With the windows rolled down, and the warm late-spring breeze hitting her skin, it felt a whole lot like freedom. Even when the clouds rolled in and she had to roll the windows up to keep the teeming rain out, it still felt exhilarating.

Anya seemed pleased with the ride as well. The woman had mostly been silent, but Clarke would catch her passenger smiling at the passing terrain, softly laughing at her attempts at singing along to the music, and as minutes passed into hours, the woman's tension seemed to melt away.

Getting into the city seemed to bring some of it back, but Clarke figured that was the woman's inner introvert popping its head up again, understandably.

It wasn't long before they'd made their way deep into the city and parked, but it definitely left them in a predicament. It was practically torrential outside, and they were parked a little down the road from the hotel, so there wouldn't be a quick dash from the car to the indoors.

She'd been too caught in trying to imagine the best way to get in without getting soaked to notice Anya reaching into the backseat. However, it was the gentle smack at her cheek from something pointy that drew her away from her thoughts, back to reality where Anya was holding an umbrella, that cute eyebrow cocked once more.

"I trust we're not far from the hotel?" The woman asked, though Clarke was too relieved to do much aside from nod. "Then I'll be right around to get you."

With that, Anya swung her door open, unfurled her umbrella, and entered the rainstorm.

Clarke took that window of opportunity to grab her bag from the backseat, settling it on her shoulder just in time for Anya to open her door. With no real puddles to speak of that could threaten her feet, Clarke stepped out and ducked under the cover of the woman's umbrella, closing the door behind her.

The umbrella was fairly large, as far as umbrellas went, but with the slight wind, it meant there was a little less space under it to remain completely dry, so she more or less sidled up against Anya and led her to the trunk. Thankfully, both of their luggages had hard casings, so nothing inside was going to get wet; Clarke felt thankful she'd bought a new set a few months back, since her last definitely wouldn't have held up under the teeming rain.

Luggage in hand and ready to go, Clarke locked up the car and wrapped an arm around Anya's nearest, hand only lightly gripping the woman's bicep. Her brain caught up a second or two later when she realized they hadn't started walking yet, wondering if she may have overstepped a boundary with that.

A quick look at Anya's face, however, just revealed a reddish tint stretching down towards the woman's collarbone, but no sign of distress of discomfort on her face. Combined with the lack of question or remark, Clarke took that as permission to keep it there; she had, after all, just wanted to keep Anya close so that she didn't get rained on. Though, she really does have nice arms...

"Come on, we're not far." Clarke noted with a grin, one that brought Anya's attention for a brief moment, followed suit by a slight eye roll.

"Lead on, Clarke." Anya requested, keeping in step with Clarke as they made their way to the sidewalk and up the street. The palm trees did nothing to ease the steady pounding of the rain above them, but these ones were always nice to come back to. They didn't feel like home, per se, but certainly that wonderful familiarity of a reprieve.

Anya's pace slowed as they approached the hotel, eventually coming to a stop just shy of the canopy covering the entrance. "Clarke, are you...certain this is the place?"

"Yeah, I come here every once in a while." She answered, gesturing toward the entrance. "Come on."

"It's just...it appears expensive." Anya spoke, persistent in relaying her qualms, as generally unnecessary as they might be.

Still, Anya did continue on until they were under the canopy, though the woman did seem a bit flustered and anxious. Something Clarke really wanted to alleviate. "It's cheaper than you might think. I got a deal, let's just say."

Anya didn't seem convinced, but followed Clarke inside anyways, drawing the immediate attention of a very familiar concierge. "Miss Griffin! I hope the weather didn't trouble you too much." Niylah called out from behind her desk, before emerging from behind it and striding up to them, sending Clarke a faux-stern expression. "One of these days, you'll remember to call in advance, and we'll clear out the loading area for you. We have doormen for a reason."

"You tell me every time I visit. And every time, it slips my mind, but it's fine, Niylah, honestly." Clarke reassured, not wanting her favourite concierge to feel like she'd done an inadequate job.

"Well, at least you still let me arrange dinner reservations...though, you forgot to tell me about your companion. My apologies, Miss...?" Niylah asked, turning her focus to Anya, who had been busy looking around the foyer at the artwork.

"Pine. But...please, just Anya will do nicely." Her companion noted, fixing her attention on the concierge, who offered her a bright smile before fixing Clarke with a curious glint in her eye.

"I'll inform the restaurant right away of the change. Is there anything I can do for either of you before we have you settled into your room? I could arrange for a different reservation at The Mezz, if you like. The food is delectable, and the jazz makes for a more intimate, relaxing setting. I'm sure that after such a long drive, you'd enjoy it." Niylah offered, which was frankly a bit out of the blue. Sure, Clarke had never stayed at the hotel with a guest before, and Niylah was intimately aware of her bisexuality, but it all seemed a little forward.

Until, at least, Anya shifted nervously, and had Clarke realizing that she was still holding her companion's arm. Oh...yeah, okay, that makes a bit more sense, now... She mused, gently rubbing at Anya's elbow for a moment before letting go. The mix of relief and the immediate frown forming on the woman's face were a little intriguing, to say the least.

"I think we're fine with the plans I gave you...unless you'd prefer a jazz bar to the Hominy Grill, Anya?" Clarke asked, feeling a twinge of worry when Anya went a little tense at the question.

"The grill is fine." Anya let out quietly, returning her focus to the nearby artwork, which seemed to calm her body down a bit, thankfully.

"I'll have Nyko bring your bags up while I sign you two in, then." Niylah offered, and just like that, Nyko had their luggage and was off towards their lodgings. The man was like a damned ghost sometimes.

It was when they got to the reception desk that Clarke realized her predicament. Oh shit. I forgot to change my booking to a room with two beds...I knew I forgot something...

"Hey, come to think of it, are there any other rooms available?" Clarke asked, hoping and praying that she'd be in luck, because otherwise, it'd mean a potentially awkward discussion with Anya soon enough.

Niylah shot her a sad smile as she shook her head. "Afraid not. We're booked to capacity this weekend. Not a single vacancy."

Clarke nodded absently as she processed that information. Well...I've dealt with worse and made it out alive...we'll be fine...I think...

"Eh, figured it was worth a shot. No harm in mixing it up sometimes." Clarke noted with a laugh, hoping she could cover her worry with the casual remark, though it only had Niylah's eyes bouncing between her and Anya as she registered them in the system and processed the payment.

"There we go...here's your room keys, and don't forget the dinner reservation is in forty-five minutes." Niylah offered, handing Clarke a pair of keys before fixing them both with a smile. "I hope you both enjoy your stay, it's always wonderful to have you, Miss Griffin."

"Thank you, Niylah." Clarke replied with a wave, before turning and making her way deeper into the hotel towards their room, Anya falling in step beside her. The woman's eyes were darting around the surroundings, taking in the sight of the passing artwork, though Clarke could see the tension in Anya's shoulders and back. Her companion knew something was amiss, at the very least.

Clarke stopped in front of their room and took in a deep breath in hopes to calm herself, though it only seemed to make Anya tenser. "I forgot to change our booking. But don't worry, it's going to be perfectly alright, okay? You can have the bed."

With that, Clarke opened the door to their room, stepping into its confines before Anya could say anything to the contrary. She always got the same room; call her self-absorbed, but she liked that one of her favourite paintings was permanently hung above the fireplace.

Anya followed her inside, but hung around the doorway, eventually letting out an exasperated sigh when Clarke went to wash her hands. Here it comes...

"These are hardwood floors. You are not sleeping on hardwood floors." Anya grit out, the aggression hardly masking how the woman's voice shook. The unexpectedly angry response had her looking over her shoulder at her companion, who was stiff as a rod of rebar, fists clenched at her sides. "I won't allow it, Clarke."

Clarke finished up and took the hand towel from the rack as she re-entered the bedroom, not wanting to seem as if she was brushing Anya off. "It's okay, really. I'm fine with it."

"You may be, but...but I cannot. I'd be mortified to have you sleeping on the floor...I wouldn't be able to sleep, it'd be too much." Anya insisted, eyes clamping shut as if the woman could clamp down on whatever storm that was going through her body, and not quite succeeding.

"Hey, okay...okay. It's a king, it's big...I just didn't want to assume you'd be up for sharing, but if you're okay with that, then I am." Clarke offering what she hoped was her best soothing voice as she stepped closer cautiously. "I just want you to be comfortable."

"What about your comfort, Clarke?" Anya shot back, though sounding more tired than anything.

"I've shared a bed with most of my friends at some time or another. I'm perfectly comfortable sharing one with you." Clarke stated as emphatically as she could, though she could still see that her companion was either not entirely convinced, or not pleased. Neither of which Clarke was content letting be. "Look, this was my fault, and I was just trying to fix it, okay? You didn't sign up for this, so I figured you'd get the bed, and I'd lay by the fireplace and cocoon myself in a duvet. I do a lot of landscape paintings of forests and parks, and I do a lot of camping to be able to live in the kind of spaces I'd be painting for a while, so I'm used to sleeping in less ideal places. So trust me...sharing a bed with you? If you're fine with that? I'm golden."

Anya remained stock still, fists vibrating at her side, even as she seemed to emanate exhaustion. It was a strange sight, and Clarke wasn't entirely sure what to make of it, but when Anya marched closer, she stepped out of the woman's path. "I need to get ready for dinner." Anya's voice came out all crackling and strained, burning a pit in Clarke's stomach.

Why can't I get anything right today? She's one of Lexa's special people...why can't I keep from fucking her up just once? She mused, rubbing at her temples as the bathroom door clicked shut.

There was still time left in the day to fix things, to get a win. Clarke just wasn't sure she'd be able to manage it.

The grill was packed, but as Niylah promised, their table had been reserved and the both of them got seated right away. Something Clarke knew her stomach was thankful for after a light breakfast and a lunch that happened far too many hours ago.

Anya was still a major question mark, but the woman had been able to accompany her. She'd been completely silent since their talk in their hotel room, but it had to be some sort of positive sign that the woman was still willing to go to dinner with her, and was still willing to offer the shelter of her umbrella again. Even if Clarke shied away from contact this time around.

They'd been seated for maybe two minutes when a waitress with a lot of pep in her step came up to their table. "Hi there, I'm Katie, and I'll be your server this evening. I'd like to let you know that tonight on special we have Cajun-seared American red snapper on bacon cheddar cheese grits and red pepper coulis. Also on special, we have a carrot ginger bisque. While you look over the menus, could I get you both something to drink?"

"Can I get some sweet tea, please? Thanks." Clarke requested, prompting the server to jot down her order and look to Anya, who seemed slightly flustered.

"A water with lemon would be wonderful, please." Anya spoke, breaking her personal silence as she watched the server jot hers down. "Thank you." She added as the server smiled and darted off.

Clarke considered her options for starting dialogue up again, but the way that Anya seemed to intensely scan over the menu had her unsure if that would be a good decision. Either Anya was really intent on figuring out what she wanted to eat, or she was intent on not conversing; both possibilities made it clear that it was best to keep her mouth shut for the time being.

If she had her order to focus on, it'd be a different story, but she knew what she was going to get. Every time she came to the grill, she tried something new, and this time, it'd be the ribs. She'd never had St. Louis barbeque before, and while she knew it probably wasn't the pinnacle of the style, it'd at least give her an idea of what to expect if she ever did make her way as far into the heartland as St. Louis.

I wonder if Anya's traveled much in the past...just because she hasn't been on a road trip doesn't mean she hasn't traveled, right? I wonder if she's from down south, or if she just ended up there... Clarke mused to herself, eyes scanning over the woman across from her. Hell, there's so much I don't know about her. I wonder if she...

The clack of a glass of sweet tea drew Clarke from her thoughts, halfway marveling that their server had returned so quickly with their drinks. It couldn't have been more than two or three minutes.

"There we go, one sweet tea, and one water. Are you ready to order, or do you still need a little more time?" Katie asked, drawing Clarke's attention to a stock still Anya, who was staring at the woman as if she was delirious.

"I think we'll need some more time, thanks." Clarke answered with a polite smile, prompting the server to nod and make her way to another table.

It was when her focus returned to Anya, and saw her companion gripping the menu so hard her knuckles could be going white, that she started to wonder if some of that tension from the hotel carried over. "Anya, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Clarke." The woman grit out, flipping the menu over hard, eyes raking over the potential options again and again. It certainly didn't convince her that Anya was fine, but it wasn't like she could do anything about that.

At least, not right now... Clarke thought as she pulled out her phone and pulled up Niylah's contact info.

Clarke Griffin
Hey, I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could help me out with something?

Unsurprisingly, it barely took half a minute to get a response. Leave it to Niylah to have 'Life Saver' tacked onto her job description.

Niylah Fiorella
You know all you have to do is ask nicely, Miss Griffin, and I'll see what I can do

Clarke Griffin
I was wondering if you had any of that stuff you gave me last year? I would really appreciate you working your magic

Niylah Fiorella
Well, if you put it that way, then I'm sure you'll find what you need all set up in the washroom by the time you return. I hope you and your missus' dinner is going well!

She couldn't help but bite the inside of her cheek at her ex-girlfriend's assumption, though it was nice of her to keep Anya in mind like that. Niylah never had a jealous bone in her body, it was one of the reasons they'd dated a ways back.

Clarke Griffin
You're a life saver, Niylah. Thank you so much

Clarke was just putting her phone away when she noticed the server approach again. Jeez, it hasn't even been five minutes...

"Are we all ready to order now?" The server asked, still all chipper and expectant.

Anya, in turn, looked almost ashen, a bit of panic flashing across her features cluing Clarke into a potential reason for her companion's mood.

"I'm sorry, I'm just waffling between a few things...can we have, like, ten minutes? I promise we'll be ready then." Clarke asserted, fixing Katie with her best sheepish expression, which thankfully did the trick, even if the server didn't seem entirely pleased with the request.

"Of course! Please, take your time." The woman stated, words a little less smooth in delivery, carrying a tiny bit of an edge, but once they were out, Katie was off to another table.

With a bit of a reprieve assured, Clarke turned her focus back to Anya. "So, anything on the menu that's catching your eye?"

Anya fixed Clarke with a frustrated glare. "I apologize if I'm holding you up, Clarke." The woman practically growled, not at all sounding sorry. Not that she should be.

"Don't apologize, our server's way too pushy. I was just wondering if I could help." Clarke stated calmly, laying her hands palms up on the table. Anya's glare softened into a look of suspicion, but she was clearly listening. "See, I usually try something new every time I come here, but there's a lot on the menu that I like. So I figure, if you came up with a few top options, we could talk it out, nail down our orders. Worst comes to worst, you don't like what you order, but I probably would, and I'd trade you mine for a second chance, a safer bet."

Anya swallowed hard as she held Clarke's gaze for a few moments, then let out a sigh as her eyes dropped back down to the menu. "I can't ask you to sacrifice your meal just to appease my sensibilities."

"No, but we can figure out a meal that's safe for you, and delicious to me, so that if your first choice doesn't work out, you can have mine, or we can share, or whatever." Clarke clarified, her focus slipping momentarily as Anya bit at her bottom lip nervously.

"And why would you do that? Why make the effort?" Anya shot back, those amber eyes returning a little softer but not lacking in focus.

"I told you earlier, this is my vacation. I want the people by my side to enjoy themselves, or at least be comfortable. I was the one who didn't think about how a place like this could be draining for you. If you're not comfortable ordering for whatever reason, I'm happy to for both of us. So long as we both get something we want to eat, so please, give me an idea of what you think could be tasty." Clarke hoped her answer would check the boxes Anya needed to feel a bit more secure.

Anya held her gaze once more, taking two long, deep breaths before offering the slightest of nods. "I was considering the 'Catfish Creole' dish, but the veg sauce is only vaguely described, and that concerns me, since I'm fine with a little onion, but not much more than that. Then there's the two safer options, the half fried chicken, and the ribs. Both come with two vegetables, which I can choose, but...there are eighteen possible choices. It's... difficult to choose."

Clarke nodded along and smiled, knowing she'd like any of the three possibilities, having had the catfish last time around. "Okay, I like the catfish, so you could always give it a shot, and I'd be fine swapping if you didn't like it. The sauce is pretty oniony, if I remember, but if you wanted, I could ask that they go light on it?"

"Hm, I'm not sure. I'm not very comfortable with special orders." Anya admitted with a frown, something Clarke could understand. She wasn't entirely fond of asking for them, especially since they didn't always work out.

"Then we could go with the two safer options. I was planning on the ribs anyways, and we could pick four of the veg options, not just two. Would that make it easier?" Clarke asked, earning a delayed nod, Anya's body growing more relaxed by the second.

"It would...so tell me, what were you considering?" Anya asked, filling Clarke with hope that yeah, she had this. This was all going to work out.

She set a mental reminder to do a little prep work later that night, then quickly got into detail about which options she thought would be tasty, which would be particularly good for sharing, and whatnot. Cost of dinner? Around twenty-five dollars for her share. Anya warming to her? There wasn't really a price tag for that, especially given the plans for the next nine days.

The rain had slowed by the time they left the restaurant, and when they got back to the hotel, it'd downgraded to a light drizzle. Still didn't keep Clarke from huddling close under Anya's umbrella again, which the woman didn't seem to mind, thankfully.

It was when they passed Niylah at her desk, the cheeky concierge offering them a smile and a wink as they passed by, that Anya grew a little flustered for the first time since the ordering debacle. However, her companion seemed content to stew in her thoughts about it, at least until they reached their door.

"Clarke...did our concierge just...flirt with us?" Anya asked, all hesitant and adorably confused, though she could understand the confusion. Niylah could definitely be flirtatious, and sometimes had difficulty keeping that in check.

"I might have asked her to pick something up while we were at dinner. She thinks we're together...together together...and probably thinks I'm trying to butter you up or something." Clarke explained as she unlocked the door, but Anya's hand fell upon hers before she could open it.

"Why would she think you were buttering me up?" The woman asked, more than a little warning in her tone, even as the hand pressed atop her own was shaking ever so slightly.

"We had a long day, and I thought it'd be nice to relax a bit before heading to bed. Niylah and I used to date, so her mind went to the gutter with what I asked for, but I promise, it's all innocent." Clarke clarified, hoping it'd be enough to sooth her suddenly unnerved companion.

Anya's grip slackened as the woman took a step back and let out a sigh. "I apologize, Clarke. It has been a long day."

Taking that as a green light, Clarke opened the door and moved to sit on the bench at the end of the bed, pulling her luggage over to her. Anya passed by her en route to the bathroom, having refrained from using the ones at the restaurant like Clarke had.

The woman was barely in the washroom for more than ten seconds before she heard Anya calling out in deep confusion. "Clarke? Why is there a tray of products in the bathroom?"

Clarke pulled her laptop from her luggage, flipped open the screen, and powered it on. "This morning, Lexa told me you're an introvert. You've spent all day with a relative stranger, in said stranger's vehicle, far from home and committed to an adventure you've never experienced before. And, occasionally, you've been surrounded by a bunch of strangers. I figured you could use some personal time to relax and recharge, and a nice long soak in the bath with the right products seemed like the way to go to help that happen."

There was silence stretching on for a while in the washroom, so Clarke just got to work at the plan she concocted in the restaurant, loading up Google Maps and planning her route for the next few days. As much as she enjoyed improvisation, she'd never really had the time for much of that on this trip anyways, so Clarke set to arranging the routes she'd take to make the drive as scenic and enjoyable as possible while minimizing stop & go and keeping the trip lengths reasonable. As much as Raven liked randomly picking restaurants, Clarke gathered a selection from each major checkpoint on the road trip, copying their menus to a file to send Anya tomorrow. She couldn't be fully confident, but Clarke couldn't help but think that after the food truck and the restaurant, that Anya was someone who needed time to figure out her order beforehand and prepare herself to vocalize it.

And really, that was something Clarke was more than willing to provide to the best of her ability.

She'd just finished prepping the leg from Charleston to Tallahassee when Anya emerged from the bathroom and rummaged through her luggage for a pair of headphones. Determined not to invade the woman's space, Clarke focused strictly on her laptop screen, the soft padding of Anya's feet moving back across the room again before halting at the doorway.

"Thank you for this." Anya murmured, almost too quietly to hear, so it took a moment to register. When it did, Anya had closed the bathroom door, and the muted sound of rushing water met her ears, but she allowed herself a smile, anyways.

It was a bit longer of a process than she expected it would have been, but about an hour later, she'd finished up the trip itinerary of sorts up to when they arrived in the cape. There'd definitely be some room for adjustments and delays and improvisations, but by and large, she had the route planned out, and a few key things on the schedule.

After all, she knew Octavia wanted to stop in DC to visit Bellamy, so she scheduled an extended stay in the capital, knowing she could enjoy a nice visit with her mom as well before departing for Lexa's wedding.

I haven't seen mom in almost half a year...it'll be good to see how she's doing, catch up on all the wild stuff at her work...and it'll give me a good chance to finish my first painting... Clarke mused silently as she halfway closed her laptop and set it atop the bed.

She'd just finished turning around when the bathroom door opened, a robed and freshly bathed Anya emerging, stealing Clarke's breath in a barely concealed gasp. Rest and relaxation looked stunning on the woman, all the sharpness and rigidity from the stress and anxiety had melted away to reveal a softness that she couldn't help but think was entirely dangerous. There were only so many gay gasps she could have before her companion would catch on, and while something romantic with Anya could potentially be great, that wasn't the aim for the trip. Becoming friends was far more important, and she had to stay focused on that.

Which was difficult to do when Anya sat down right beside her, knees touching, face oh so goddamn close to kissing range, and those warm eyes would be so easy to fall into.

"Clarke..." Anya spoke, voice nearly as low as a whisper as the woman leaned even closer. Clarke couldn't help but run her tongue to wet her lips in an instinctual response. Seeing Anya was waiting for some sort of feedback, Clarke offered a gentle nod, holding the woman's soft gaze. Anya tilted her head and sniffed lightly before Clarke felt a gentle smack to her cheek. "You reek." The woman added softly, sporting a playful grin.

"I do not." Clarke protested, lifting a hand to touch the wetness covering her cheek. She sniffed and smelled lavender, realizing Anya must have used that particular bath bomb.

"Maybe not, but the bath is free, and there's still some of Niylah's products left. You've treated me enough...treat yourself." Anya retorted with a tiny little adorable smile, the faintest tinge of pink blooming on her cheeks.

"Oh, I can do both. But alright, I could use a bit of a soak after I shower." Clarke noted with a smile of her own, reaching down to her luggage to grab her toiletries bag and some sleep clothes to change into afterwards. "Oh, I set something up on the laptop for you. Could you give it a look over and let me know if I missed anything, or if I need to change something?"

Anya's puzzled expression held as Clarke got up and gathered her things in her arms. "What is it?"

"A plan." Clarke answered simply with a playful grin before heading into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her. They'd have time to discuss it all tomorrow. For now, she'd bathe, rest, and then head to bed for some quality sleep, knowing that might come in short supply until they get to Washington D.C.

Clarke was pretty sure that if she didn't get to bed in the next minute or two, that she'd collapse from how bonelessly relaxed her body felt. A nice long soak did wonders for her body; she only had a shower stall back home, so it was a bit of a luxury to spend time just relaxing in the water.

She bypassed the comfy bath robe and settled for just her sleep clothes, knowing it wouldn't be long until she zonked out entirely. Unsure if Anya was asleep in the main room, Clarke quietly opened the bathroom door and peeked out.

The bedside lamp nearest the lit fireplace was on, and Anya was sprawled out on that side of the bed, notebook in hand. The woman's hair was all wrapped up in a headband, making Clarke smile at the woman's devotion to those lovely, gentle dirty blonde waves of hers.

"Thought you might be asleep already." Clarke mused aloud as she turned off the bathroom light and stepped out into the main room.

Anya's head tilted up at her words, the woman shuffling a bit to sit up against the bed's headboard. "I just finished making some of my own notes on your itinerary. I am quite tired now, though."

Clarke saw the woman shifting towards the edge of the bed, so she lifted up a hand. "It's okay, I'll get the fireplace." She noted with a smile, taking the five steps and few seconds it took to put the fire out.

"This bed is remarkably comfortable, Clarke. I...can hardly imagine you got a deal because the concierge is your ex." Anya stated with a content hum as she got under the covers.

The assumption was a little too ridiculous for Clarke not to laugh at, even if she did regret the outburst at the flash of remorse on Anya's face. "I didn't get a deal because she's my ex. The hotel has a curator who selects and cycles art in and out over the months, and they happen to like my art a lot, so I worked out a bit of a standing deal with them. I donate the occasional work, I get a break on the cost of staying whenever I'm in town, and I can check in late. I'm here often enough for shows anyways, so it works out in both of our favor. I generally get this room, because my works tend to hang above the fireplace. I painted that one seven months ago."

"Oh...I apologize for assuming otherwise, Clarke." Anya offered, all red faced and repentant, as if she'd committed some great insult.

"Don't worry about it. I can see why you jumped to that conclusion." Clarke shot back as she rounded the bed and slipped under the covers on the free side of the bed. "So, we all good for tomorrow's trip?" She added after letting out a long yawn.

Anya offered a small nod and flicked the bedside lamp off, casting the room in darkness. "I believe so, yes." The woman said, voice nearly too quiet to hear. Clarke took that as a sign that it was time to get some shuteye, so she turned over onto her side, fluffed her pillow and settled in for a nice, long sleep. It was only Anya remaining seated against the headboard that kept her eyes open, watching that silhouette carefully even as her eyes yearned to close.

"I want to thank you, Clarke." Anya added all soft and quiet, however a bit louder than her previous words. "I was brusque, and distant, and difficult today, and you were patient. You tried to make me comfortable...I'm not used to people accommodating me."

Honestly, it was more than a little surprising to hear her companion's words, not quite understanding why Anya was making herself out to be such a burden. "Hey...I was the one who invited you along with me. It's my job to be hospitable at the very least, because you signed up for a ride to a wedding, not a road trip." Clarke argued with a similar quiet tone. Not seeing any visible reaction from the woman, Clarke reached out and prodded at Anya's nearest hand. "Look... thing is, Lexa told me you're special to her, and that you're worth knowing. So I want to know you, Anya. And that includes wanting to know how to make you comfortable, how to make you happy, and what to avoid. Today was a learning experience for us both, that's all."

"Yes, well, it was still appreciated. Next to no one treats me like that, not...not that I need anyone to, because I don't. I don't. But I appreciate that you did, that you are." Anya insisted, voice straining slightly as she spoke, and Clarke could easily feel that weight, whatever history was behind it.

On one hand, she really wanted to reassure Anya that what she'd done, the way she'd approached Anya, wasn't anything special. It wasn't extraordinary. Because, really, it wasn't. And if Anya had been mistreated in the past to the point where she'd come to accept that, as some sort of default state of how people would consider their behaviour around her, then that needed pointing out. That needed correcting.

Just not tonight, not while they weren't more trusting of each other. That would just get the woman beside her responding defensively, so she reeled back all her instinctive responses and took hold of the hand she'd prodded, offering a gentle squeeze.

"I will, Anya. I promise I will." Clarke whispered in return, giving the woman's hand a little tug. "Now come on, lay those pretty cheekbones of yours to sleep, we've got a long day tomorrow."

Anya shifted down the bed a bit, a sign she was taking Clarke's advice, so she closed her eyes in preparation for a quality sleep.

Only to be greeted by a dull thwap of a pillow to her face. "You talk too much, Clarke." Anya retorted in apparently complaint, though despite the darkness, when she peeked an eye open, there was a hint of a smile on Anya's lips.

Compliment received...I'll take a pillow or two to the face if it means I make her smile again... Clarke mused, letting out a laugh as she nuzzled into her pillow and closed her eyes once more. It wasn't lost on her that Anya didn't pull her hand away as she settled in for the night. It wasn't lost on her that by the added slack to the woman's arm, Anya turned on her side facing Clarke.

It all seemed like a good sign that they were getting closer, and that maybe Anya would open up a bit more soon enough, and that maybe Anya was a little comfortable around her already.

Clarke was pretty sure she fell asleep that night with a smile on her face.

A/N: So in light of all the stuff that's happened on The 100 and in the fandom, I've found this to be a good outlet for my more lighthearted urges (I know this chapter didn't have a lot of that, but I've already dipped into later days in the road trip and it's been a blast, lemme tell you). Writing Clexa is still difficult for me, but being able to have this has helped get me on a roll really quickly so that when I do switch over to fics like Breaking Out, I'm starting at a run (so in short, it's helping me be more productive with everything else).

Also, when I was thinking up some of the base details of the fic, an friend of mine reminded me I'd also wanted to write a fic involving some of this material: galentines tumblrcom (slash) post (slash) 135593664254 so I decided to brainstorm some ways to work some of those elements into Anya's character. it was a fun exercise, but I'd understand if some folks thought she seemed a bit ooc by the end of this. She's still the loyal, overprotective, aggressive, fairly snarky marshmallow...just needs some time to get comfortable and trust before some of those familiar parts of her shine through.

Anywho, this fic's being to largely focus on Clarke/Anya, but there will be some side Raven/Octavia, too.

Thanks for reading!