PART FIVE: Tangled Together Hip to Hip

OR

Happy Endings Never Really End

[Five Sweet Years Later]

Epilogue

OR

The Chapter That is Not Really Needed but is There Anyway

Chapter 47

Rubies and Sapphires and Gold

OR

Just Two Lovesick Idiots (At Least Master Anya Thinks So)

LEXA

The door to the gym is propped wide open, but there is no breeze on this balmy May afternoon, and as I step over the threshold the smells of fresh paint and primer greet me with the force of a kick to the face. I suck in a breath, ignoring the stinging in my nostrils as I spot Master Anya straddling the top rung of a ladder. She looks as comfortable as a sparrow perched on a wire and I am grinning mischievously as I sneak my way in. Maybe it is foolish, cruel, even dangerous, to try to startle someone balanced ten feet off the ground. But I cannot resist the urge.

I creep up behind her and am about to snag her ankle when Anya suddenly lets her arm drop to her side, her paintbrush falling from the curve of the massive S in Self-Control to slap me hard across the curve of my cheek. And instead of 'Boo,' I hear myself cry out, "Blech!" as I wipe at the smear of cold, sticky forest-green paint streaking my face and dripping across my lips.

Master Anya swivels on her perch. "Lexa!" She exclaims. But I can tell by her own mischievous grin that the surprise is feigned. Of course I couldn't sneak up on Anya. Years of failed attempts should have made that clear to me by now. "Oops! I didn't see you there!" She lies.

"Right... Sure you didn't." I laugh as Master Anya leaps gracefully from the ladder as if it is merely a stepping stool. "I suppose I deserved that."

Master Anya's grin pulls even wider. Her surprise at seeing me may have been feigned, but her delight is genuine. And I know that I, too, am grinning like a fool as I move to hug her.

But Master Anya steps back before I can embrace her. "I'm a bit of a mess." She says, holding her hands out open before her as evidence. There are green and black smears and drips and streaks running across her palms and her arms, her clothes and her cheeks and her hair. But I don't care. Not even a little bit. And I throw my arms around her before she can push me away.

"It's good to see you, kiddo." Master Anya whispers, holding me as fiercely as I hold her. "It's about time you came to visit." She scolds me.

"It's only been a couple of months." I protest, pulling out of the hug.

"Yeah, well..." Master Anya argues, one sticky green hand resting on her hip. "A couple of months is a long time, Lexa. You don't live across the country, you know. You're only a couple of hours away. Why do you think I worked so hard to convince you and Clarke to go to U of O in the first place? Honestly, I thought, when I gave you that Subaru four years ago, you might actually use it to come see me every now and again. You know-"

"I'm sorry." I cut her off with a chuckle. "We've been so busy with finishing up school. And you know we've been getting ready for graduation coming up. It's only three weeks away and-"

"Three weeks away, Lexa?" Master Anya interrupts me, executing a sassy roll of her eyes as flawlessly as Raven. "You don't say. Good of you to let me know. I swear... If it wasn't for Clarke's weekly phone calls, I wouldn't know a thing about what's going on with you. Honestly, I-"

"Okay!" I cut her off again. "I said, 'I'm sorry.' I should visit more. I should call more. Now... do you want to see it or not?" I ask, flashing her a grin. "I just picked it up."

"Of course I want to see it!" She grins right back, her second sticky hand finding her hips. Her soft brown eyes are alight with impatience and anticipation. "I helped design it, didn't I?"

I fish into my pocket for the velvety case and gingerly open it, holding it out for her to see, but not letting her messy fingers anywhere near it.

"Wow, Lexa." Master Anya breathes. "It's beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. She's going to love it. When are you going to-"

"Tonight." I answer, still grinning despite the sudden rush of butterflies swarming in my tummy at the thought. My insides are a tangled mess. They have been for a long, long time. "Clarke wants to wait until after graduation. I know that. But I can't wait any longer. I can't. I'm going to surprise her tonight."

Master Anya's lips pull together like she's fighting the urge to laugh. "Tonight." She repeats, her eyes glinting in that way that always makes me wonder what it is she knows that I probably should, but absolutely don't. "Before, during, or after dinner?"

"Before, I suppose." I answer. I haven't quite figured out the details yet. I've been thinking about this moment for days, weeks... Years, really. And I still haven't gotten it all figured out yet. It still doesn't feel quite real. "No... Maybe during. After? I don't know. What do you think? Wait..." I pause, thinking. "How did you know we were going to dinner tonight?"

Master Anya is still biting back the laughter, and I am growing more and more confused, even suspicious by the second. I wrack my brains, replaying the last few phone calls I've had with her. I don't ever remember telling her about our dinner plans tonight.

"Again... If Clarke didn't call me every week, I wouldn't know a thing." Master Anya says, but by the slant of her smile I cannot help but wonder if the words are the entire truth.

"But..." I protest, still confused. "I just told Clarke about our reservation yesterday. She called you last night? Or this morning?"

"Before." Is all Master Anya says.

"She called you before?"

"You should do it BEFORE dinner." Master Anya answers, now smiling at me in that way that says, 'Of course I know something you don't. I always do. Because I see everything. And you're always clueless. And don't you know by now, that you should just trust me?'

"Before?" I repeat, unsure.

"Before." She nods, chuckling to herself. "Now, put that away before I can't hold myself back any longer and I get paint all over it. And come check out the studio. Gus helped me put bars up along the mirrors and he's working on installing shelves in the back so we don't have to keep all the gear piled in a nasty heap in the corner anymore."

I carefully shove the box back into my pocket and follow her around the corner and onto the mats that still feel more like home to me than anywhere else on this earth. There are indeed padded metal bars running along the side walls and sheets of lumber shelving propped against the back wall waiting to be erected. But my eyes only scan the outskirts of the mats briefly before settling on the scene in its center. A tall, willowy, dirty-blond black-belt is holding paddles for a line of six pudgy little four and five-year-olds.

"Teacher... He cut me!" A little white-belt shrieks from the middle of the line, pointing at a tow-haired boy with wide, innocent blue eyes, even as a little redheaded girl bounces out of the line behind them and starts cartwheeling towards the hanging bag in the corner.

"Jacob, what did I tell you about going to the BACK of the-" Aden starts before noticing the escaping redhead. "Eva!" He calls. "Eva, get back in line. Eva... Eva!"

The yellow-belt in the front of the line takes advantage of Aden's momentary distraction, turning around to continue her argument with the boy behind her, her hands perched on her hips imperiously. "Supergirl is WAY cooler than Captain America." She says. "Captain America can't even shoot lasers from his eyes."

"Rachel, I said no more bashing Captain America." Aden sighs. "Colton LIKES Captain America. Let's just not talk about Supergirl anymore, OK? Jacob, go to the BACK of the line. You can't cut Maddie like that. Eva, don't touch the heavy bag. Eva... Eva!" Aden shoots me and Master Anya a panicked look. He's clearly overwhelmed. He can't even muster a smile for me, though I haven't seen the boy in months.

"Are you going to help him?" I ask Master Anya, laughing because I already know what her answer will be.

"Of course not." She chuckles right back. "He's learning. He'll be fine."

"Yeah," I agree, lost in my own memories. I wonder if someday little Eva will be kicking Aden in the face like he kicks me. "He'll be fine."

I lean against the mirror and let my back slide down its cool surface until I plunk onto the mats as I've done a thousand times before. "I'm glad you decided not to move, Master Anya." I say as she drops down beside me.

"Yeah... Well..." Master Anya replies. "The other space is larger, a lot larger. It's on a major road where I'm sure we'd get a lot more walk-ins. And it's air conditioned." She sighs dreamily, wiping at the thin film of sweat on her paint-streaked forehead. "Financially, I'm sure buying up that space would have been the smart move, rather than remodeling this place. But... I don't know... I guess there's just so many memories here, you know? I couldn't bear to leave."

"Yeah, I know." I answer softly. And though I know I am watching Aden trying (and failing) to corral the next generation of fighters, I am seeing my own little twelve-year-old self struggling to keep Aden and Rosie and Parker and Dawsen in line. I am remembering the nights of sitting side-by-side with Anya just like we are sitting now, only instead of having paint streaked across my cheek, I had my sweat and Anya's foot-grime. I am remembering the night Anya forced me to teach Clarke her first kicks and Clarke threw that fateful axe-kick and slipped and fell and all of my defenses went tumbling right down with her. And I am remembering the night four years later when Clarke ripped the straw from my mouth and stopped my breathing with her kiss. And I am remembering a million tiny moments in between; a million kicks thrown, a million painful breaths taken, a million drops of sweat given, a million lessons learned, a million smiles shared. It is on these mats that I found a family; that I found love; that I found myself.

I first stepped onto these mats as a clueless, little eight-year-old, having no idea that they would become a place of refuge; never knowing that, thirteen years later, they would still be the place that I call home.

"I know what you mean." I smile at Master Anya. "I absolutely know."

***...***

"Oh, God." Clarke's voice calls out as the door bursts open. "I'm sorry I'm so late, Lexa! How much time do I-" She pauses, her panicked blue eyes alighting on me and her jaw dropping slightly. "Oh my god, you look good."

"Don't worry. You've got plenty of time." I chuckle, kicking the door shut behind her as I pull her into me. She's still in her dirty scrubs, having just come from her rounds interning at the local urgent care clinic. She smells like hospitals, like bleach and lemon lysol; and her lips taste like stale coffee and vending machine pop-tarts. And I kiss her until the keys fall from her fingers and clatter onto the floor because she is everything I want in this world.

"You have all the time in the world." I say as she pulls away.

"What time is the reservation?" She asks, confused.

"Seven." I mumble in reply.

"But, it's seven-thirty!" She cries.

"We'll go somewhere else." I shrug. It took me days to get a reservation at this restaurant, a fancy French place with a name I cannot pronounce. It took me weeks to save up the money for it. But I don't care. Not even a little bit. The restaurant doesn't matter. I'd be just as happy at Taco Bell. It's the person sitting across from me, the girl on the other end of the table, that matters.

"I'm so sorry, Lexa." Clarke says again, her lip trembling. She looks like she is on the verge of tears. "They wouldn't let me go. It was crazy. Ten minutes till my shift ended and this old lady came in shaking, coughing so hard I thought she'd break apart. And then a little boy came who couldn't stop puking and a teenager who cut his hand open skateboarding and had to get twenty-three stitches, and-"

"It's OK." I laugh, taking her trembling lip between my own once more. "We don't have to go to that fancy restaurant." I say, pulling out of the kiss. "We can go anywhere. Hell, we can even just stay here tonight. Order some pizza..."

"But you're all dressed up." Clarke protests, pointing at my little red dress. "You look like a fucking goddess."

"YOU look like a goddess." I correct her, running my fingers through her messy ponytail.

"Yeah, right." Clarke laughs. "Forget goddess, I'm a fucking mess. I ruined tonight. It was supposed to be perfect."

Clarke has no idea what tonight was SUPPOSED to be. No idea. Still, she seems overly distraught.

"You didn't ruin anything." I promise. "Just by barreling in here, you've already made my night a million times better."

"Hopeless romantic." Clarke accuses, shaking her head at me. Her smile is small, sad. She still thinks she's ruined everything. But it is a smile nonetheless.

"Okay." She says, leaning into my arms and resting her forehead against mine. "Give me half an hour. I'll go wash off the stink of the clinic and find a dress as tight and tiny as yours and I swear I'll make it up to you. Deal?"

"Deal." I chuckle, pulling her hips in closer to mine, not wanting to let go.

"Half an hour." She whispers again, pulling away.

Half an hour... An eternity. "Take as long as you need." I sigh, letting her fingers pull from mine when all I want to do is hold on.

Clarke tosses her backpack onto our tattered Salvation Army sofa and I expect her to head towards the bathroom. But instead she steps into our off-campus housing's tiny excuse for a kitchen, reaching for an apple. But she pauses mid-bite and I feel my stomach flip and twist inside me like my intestines are suddenly part of a Bollywood-themed flash mob.

"Did you leave me a message?" Clarke asks, cocking her head at the little red flag raised over Sebastian's gills.

Clarke stole Sebastian when she moved out, insisting that the rusty old bass attend college with us, and we use him like others (normal people, that is) might use a chalkboard or notepad, stuffing his innards with little notes like 'I'll be home late tonight' or 'Sorry, I drank all the milk :(' or 'I'm bringing home pizza, you get the candles ).' We could just send each other text messages like everyone else. But Sebastian makes Clarke giggle. And Clarke's giggles make me melt inside.

Still, I didn't think she would notice the flag so quickly and now my heart is racing, positively throwing itself against the bars of my rib cage like a prisoner trying to break free. And my hands are already shaking as I reach for the little velvety box on the counter behind me and fall to my knees on the cold, nasty kitchen floor.

And I watch as Clarke pries Sebastian's ugly mouth open, gripping her apple between her teeth to free up her hands. She's still in her dirty scrubs, her hair, wild and windswept, struggling to twist free of her ponytail. And I know this isn't the perfect moment. It isn't magical or fancy or orchestrated. It isn't perfect. It's altogether messy. And it's altogether right.

I pry the box open as Clarke unfolds the note. And I have to tell myself to breathe as her blazing blue eyes flick from the paper to me.

"Clarke," I start, swallowing hard as the note flutters from her fingers and falls to the floor beside me like petals from a blossom and Clarke, wide-eyed, pulls the apple from her jaws and drops it on the counter's edge.

"Will you-"

"No!" Clarke cuts me off, stealing the words from my lips; ripping the very air from my lungs. "No, no, no, no, no." She repeats, spinning on the spot and practically sprinting from the kitchen, leaving me stunned and reeling in her wake.

'No?'

'No?'

'No?'

I cannot make sense of the answer, even as I hear Clarke repeating it again and again in the other room, her voice hammering the word into my eardrums like the sharpest of nails. And my heart plummets into the abyss of my stomach even as Clarke's apple wobbles over the counter's edge. And the juicy 'thwack' of the fruit bursting open against the linoleum is louder than the sound of my heart breaking.

***...***

CLARKE

"No, no, no, no, no." Clarke mumbled, cursing herself, cursing the very universe, as she frantically rummaged through her purse until she found what she was searching for. "No, no, no, no, no."

She wrapped her fist around its edges and raced back into the kitchen, stopping in her tracks at the sight of Lexa now sitting cross-legged on the dirty kitchen floor in her impossibly sexy red dress. She had her back propped against the broken dishwasher, the little black box sitting abandoned beside her next to Clarke's squashed apple. Her head was bowed and she was blinking down at her empty palms as if she were watching the whole world crumbling and falling through the cracks between her fingers like sand. Even as Clarke watched, a single, fat tear fell from Lexa's shocked, confused eyes and streaked down her cheek and off of her chin to break against her open palm like the tiniest of waves.

It was one of the most heart-wrenching sights Clarke had ever witnessed. And it was all she could do to keep herself from laughing.

Clarke dropped onto her own knees before Lexa. Then, thinking better of it, scooched to Lexa's side, crossing her own legs and leaning back against the dishwasher too. Because that was where she belonged: by Lexa's side. That's where she always had belonged. That's where she always would.

"Lexa." She spoke softly, reaching out with one hand to gently pull Lexa's chin towards her until those sea-green eyes finally followed. Lexa's shimmering eyes only narrowed further in absolute bewilderment at the grin on Clarke's face. And now the salty tears were leaking freely from the shallows in her eyes, cascading one after another down the shore of her cheeks. And Clarke was glad Lexa made no move to wipe them away. Clarke wanted to be the one who always wiped Lexa's tears away... Now and forever. And it was time she told her so.

"I was going to ask you tonight." Clarke laughed, opening her other fist to reveal the velvety black box clutched in her palm. "Tonight, after dinner. I had a whole speech planned. I wanted to surprise YOU. I mean... It's MY turn to be the hopeless romantic for once."

Lexa's eyes fell to the box in Clarke's hand, blinking down at it in (if possible) even more confusion than before.

"Lexa," Clarke began, setting the box aside, swiveling on the linoleum to face her properly, and taking Lexa's trembling hands in her own shaky ones. "I want to spend every night of the rest of my life falling asleep beside you under the stars, fighting over the blankets with you all night long. I want to wake up every day tangled up in you and watch the morning sun play in your hair and in your eyes. I don't ever want to share my pajamas... OUR pajamas... With anyone else."

Clarke paused to breathe. She had rehearsed this speech a hundred times in her mind over the last few weeks, and here she was, sitting on the kitchen floor, completely butchering it. But Lexa's wide, green eyes were locked on hers and there was no stopping now.

"I want to buy a cheesy little house with you. And get a spoiled little puppy to play in our cheesy little yard. And I want to adopt little munchkins with you and teach them how to be strong and how to fight like you taught me. And I want to listen to them laughing and giggling as you teach them all of their grandpa's godawful jokes. And I want them to learn how to do fucking perfect ninja rolls off of the swings. And I want them to learn how to be good and honest and kind like you... How to LOVE like you. And..." Clarke was fully abandoning the script now, moving into full-on rambling. But the words were still spilling out of her. And she couldn't have stopped them if she tried.

"I want to always be the one who gets to eat all of your yellow and green Dots." She continued. "And who gets to take you to the movies every time some boring scientific documentary comes out, just to see you grin. I want to always be the one who gets to see you light up when you're excited and gets to hold you when you're sad. I want to be the only one who ever gets to wrap your hand in theirs or nibble on your ear or your lips or your tummy. Call me selfish... But I want to be the only person in the world who ever gets to kiss you or make your toes curl or make you giggle or whimper in the darkness; the only one who gets to discover new ways to make you cry out for mercy and for more at the same time."

"I want to be the one who gets to know all the secret parts of you; the one who gets to see into the corners of your beautiful heart and your beautiful soul. I want to be the one who gets to spend her whole life studying you; learning how to make you laugh; how to make you smile; how to make you happy."

"I want to be the one who gets YOU, Lexa; the only one who ever gets to have you."

Clarke wiped one last tear from Lexa's cheek, swallowing nervously as she reached again for the little black box beside her.

"Lexa," She began, prying open its lid. "Will you marry me?"

Lexa didn't even bother to look at the ring in Clarke's hands. She pushed herself back onto her knees and flung her arms around Clarke so fiercely she crashed back against the dishwasher.

"Of course." Lexa laughed in Clarke's ear, a melody as beautiful as any Clarke had ever heard. "Of course, I will. Will YOU marry ME?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely, yes." Clarke laughed right back. "Yes, yes, yes. A thousand times, yes."

And Clarke held Lexa against her, feeling the giddy excitement of a child rushing through her blood like adrenaline. She wanted to lift Lexa to her feet and jump up and down with her in the middle of their tiny kitchen, giggling and squealing with abandon.

"We're getting married!" Lexa exclaimed, pulling out of Clarke's embrace enough to grin at her. The tears were still leaking from her eyes. And Clarke knew by the warmth on her own cheeks that they were leaking from her too.

"We're getting married!" Clarke grinned right back. And she pulled the little golden ring out of its case and snagged Lexa's hand in her own, biting down on her lip happily as she slipped it over Lexa's knuckle to the base of her long, slender ring finger. It wasn't the perfect engagement ring. There was no massive, fat diamond sparkling up at them. But the little rubies set into the ring glistened as crimson as Lexa's dress. And Clarke knew it was better than perfect... It was right.

Lexa stared down at the band on her hand and the grin on her face (if possible) pulled even wider. "Did Master Anya help you design this ring?" She asked.

"Yeah." Clarke replied, confused. "Did she tell you?"

Lexa didn't answer. She just chuckled to herself softly, reaching for the little box lying forgotten beside her in the tiny puddle of apple juice. She opened it and pulled out her own ring, slipping it gingerly onto Clarke's finger. There was no fat diamond on this ring either. It was a simple golden band just like Clarke's, with tiny gems ingrained in it in the exact same fashion. Only these gems weren't rubies. They were sapphires as blazing blue as the open ocean or the summer sky or the eyes that stared back at Clarke whenever she caught her reflection in the mirror. It was beautiful. It wasn't perfect. It was better than perfect... It was right.

"I couldn't afford diamonds." Lexa explained. "So Master Anya convinced me I should go with your birthstone instead. Looks like she gave you the same advice."

"Yep." Clarke laughed, shaking her head at the wonder of it all.

"So, is that where you were all last Sunday, then... When you were supposedly helping Raven with a project? You drove up to see Master Anya?" Lexa asked, her grin slanting sideways playfully as she cocked an eyebrow.

"I had to pick up the ring." Clarke confessed. "You knew I wasn't with Raven? You knew I was lying?"

"Of course I knew." Lexa answered. "I always know when you're lying. Your lips wiggle and your nostrils flare and your left eyebrow twitches and-"

"My left eyebrow twitches?" Clarke asked, incredulous. "You knew I was lying because my left eyebrow was twitching?"

"Yeah, well..." Lexa giggled. "That and Octavia let slip that Raven had to go back up to Portland that weekend for Rosa's... No, Rosita's... Rolanda's?" She paused, thinking. "Well, one of her cousin's quincineras."

"You knew I had lied... And you didn't say anything?" Clarke asked.

Lexa just shrugged. "I knew if it was important, you would tell me eventually."

Clarke considered the gorgeous girl sitting before her; the girl who trusted her so completely she would never doubt Clarke's motives; never, for even an instant, doubt her loyalty. And now that girl had Clarke's ring glinting on her finger. How the fuck had Clarke ever gotten so lucky?

"Did Master Anya know you were planning on asking me tonight?" Lexa asked, pulling Clarke from her thoughts.

"Yeah. I called her just this morning." Clarke answered. "Told her I decided I would ask you right after dinner."

"Well, that explains it." Lexa laughed, now shaking her own head. "Master Anya orchestrated all of this. I saw her today. She told me I should ask you BEFORE dinner."

"Uggghhh." Clarke groaned. "That traitor! I told her I wanted to surprise YOU first. But she always did like you best." Clarke laughed, not actually upset. She couldn't blame Master Anya for favoring Lexa. Clarke felt the same way. "I bet she's laughing at the two of us right now."

"Master Anya's been laughing at the two of us since we were twelve." Lexa smiled. "She thinks we're just a couple of lovesick idiots."

"Well, when has Master Anya ever been wrong?" Clarke replied, pushing herself forward onto her knees and leaning into Lexa. "I am definitely a lovesick idiot." She whispered in Lexa's ear, relishing the shiver of anticipation that ran though Lexa at her words. And she opened her lips to snag Lexa's earlobe between them, but Lexa's next words made her pull back in surprise.

"Hey... You think Master Anya would let us hold the ceremony in the dojang?" Lexa asked.

"You want to get married in a Tae Kwon Do school?" Clarke replied, her face scrunching at the ridiculous idea. "We can't get married in a Tae Kwon Do school."

"Why not?" Lexa laughed, her eyebrows raised innocently.

"Because it's..." Clarke stammered. "It's small and it's stinky and it's... It's... A Tae Kwon Do school!"

"It's also the first place I got to hold your hand." Lexa whispered, pulling Clarke's hand into her lap and tracing her fingertips ever so lightly along Clarke's palm, making Clarke's own fingertips tingle. Then she leaned in close enough for Clarke to feel the warmth of her breath caress her lips as soft as the breeze from a butterfly's wings as Lexa spoke again.

"And the first place I got to taste your tongue." Lexa whispered, leaning in even closer until there was no space left between them.

The kiss was as deep and tender and passionate and tentative and wildly maddening as their first. It was the kind of kiss that was less lips meeting than hearts and minds mingling. It was the kind of kiss that said, 'Though I fear you may be the end of me... I am yours. I am yours. I am yours,' in a way that mere words never could. And it was the kind of kiss that said, 'You are mine. You are mine. You are mine. And I will be the end of you,' in a way that mere words never could. And Clarke wanted to sink into Lexa like the deepest, darkest of seas; to lose herself in her like the wildest of forests, the most alluring of wildernesses. She wanted to press into her right there on the kitchen floor, to tangle herself so completely with Lexa that she could never say where she ended or where Lexa began.

But, all too soon, Lexa pulled back out of the kiss, leaving Clarke reeling, dizzy. It was her favorite kind of kiss; the kind of kiss that only left her longing for more.

Lexa rested her forehead against Clarke's, the tips of their noses meeting ever so gently. "It's the first place I got to tell you 'I love you.'" She whispered. "And since I don't think it would be practical, or even possible to hold the wedding on your rooftop... There's probably a city ordinance banning rooftop weddings for safety-"

"My rooftop?" Clarke interrupted. "You mean... The first place I got to feel your-"

"The first place..." Lexa chuckled, her grin as mischievous as Clarke's. "I realized I was madly, deeply, irrevocably in love with you."

"Oh, right." Clarke snickered. "I was thinking of ANOTHER first..."

"We can't commemorate THAT first." Lexa laughed. "Can you imagine..." She paused to adopt a deep voice. "'So Lexa, why are you guys getting married on a rooftop?' 'Oh, well..."' She continued, switching back to her normal voice. "'Ms. Indra, Mr. Kane, Ms. Griffin... Mr. MINISTER, holy-church-official-guy with a direct communication line to God... it's the first place Clarke and I ever-'" She paused, shaking her head. "Nope. It won't work. I can say 'held hands.' I can say 'kissed.' But I'm not sharing any more than that. Besides, Master Anya's remodeling the gym." Lexa continued, wiggling her eyebrows ridiculously, still trying to convince Clarke that her idea was, in fact, an idea; an actual, legitimate idea. "She's painting and putting in bars along the mirrors and shelves and-"

"Shelves? How fancy." Clarke snickered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "If I had known there were SHELVES..."

"Just picture it..." Lexa said undeterred, leaning back and waving her palms enthusiastically through the air as if revealing some gorgeous work of art. "We'll take all the nasty gear off the shelves and spray them down with air freshener and put all kinds of flowers there instead. And we'll wrap fairy lights around the bars and hang pretty streamers on the mirrors, red and gold or blue and silver or... Well, I'll let YOU pick the colors... And sprinkle glitter everywhere. And-"

"Master Anya wouldn't allow glitter anywhere near her mats." Clarke laughed. This whole idea was absurd, ludicrous, laughable. And yet...

"We'd only be able to invite like ten people." Clarke commented, giving the idea ten seconds of actual serious thought. She couldn't believe she was even considering it. But she couldn't deny the idea had a certain appeal to it. She had to admit that Anya's gym had been the place where she had found friendship and love, courage and strength. It was like a second home to her. And she knew it had been even more of a refuge to Lexa, a place where the rest of their problems faded away and their messy lives became more simple. Still, the gym was tiny.

"Ten people." She said again. "Where would we put everyone?"

"Naw..." Lexa answered, her grin lopsided, half serious, half playful. "We'd be able to fit AT LEAST twelve." She laughed. Then, more seriously, "We could invite only the people who really matter. Everyone else could meet us for the reception afterwards in whatever fancy, normal, societally-approved venue you desire. What do you think?" She finished, grinning at Clarke with her green eyes wide and glinting with absolute excitement.

"I think you're fucking crazy." Clarke chuckled. "And fucking adorable. And..." She paused, sighing in defeat.

And Lexa's smile was so massive, her eyes so bright, Clarke couldn't stop herself from grinning right back. She could never resist that utterly dorky, utterly adorable look on Lexa's face. It was a look of pure happiness, uncontained joy. And Clarke would do anything to see it, ANYTHING to make it last... Even if it meant getting married in a goddamn Tae Kwon Do school.

"And..." Clarke continued. "I think if you give Master Anya that same ridiculous grin, maybe you WILL get your glitter, after all. She can't say no to you any more than I can."

Lexa's eyes were practically burning Clarke, they were shining with such unadulterated excitement. She pulled her grin into a sheepish smile. "It's hard to refuse a lovesick idiot."

"Tell me about it." Clarke sighed, shaking her head, still grinning despite herself. "Why do you think I'm marrying you?"

"Because you're a lovesick idiot too." Lexa laughed, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Clarke's forehead.

But Clarke reached out, wrapped her palms around Lexa's cheeks, and pulled her into a proper kiss. It was a kiss that was slow and tender and deep, so deep. It was Clarke's favorite kind of kiss; the kind of kiss that was less lips meeting than souls touching. It was the kind of kiss that spoke, 'I love you, I love you, I love you,' in a way that mere words never could. And when Lexa pulled out of it, the laughter was gone.

Lexa opened her eyes slowly, her lashes parting gently to reveal the green seas Clarke could spend an eternity drowning in. "We're getting married." She breathed.

"We're getting married." Clarke answered, pressing back into her.

And this kiss was less tender and slow. Indeed, it was downright urgent. It was hungry and wild and desperate. And Lexa pressed right back into Clarke, her tongue moving against Clarke's hungrily, wildly, desperately. And in an instant Lexa's back was against the linoleum and her fingers were in Clarke's hair and Clarke's fingers were sliding their way up the hem of Lexa's little red dress. And this kiss was less lips meeting than tongues and skin and hips colliding. It was the kind of kiss that spoke, "I want you, I want you, I want you," in a way that mere words never could. And it was Clarke's favorite kind of kiss; the kind of kiss she never wanted to pull out of.

But beside Lexa's cheek there was a mushy apple to consider. And stale fruit loops against the baseboard. And crusty, mysterious bits of something else in the corner. And Lexa's dress deserved better.

Clarke pushed herself to her hands and knees, hovering over Lexa. And Lexa, hungry for more, tried to follow, pushing herself up to meet Clarke's lips with her own again, biting down and dragging Clarke forward by her captured bottom lip, even as she wrapped her calves around the back of Clarke's thighs to force her hips back down against her. Lexa's legs were strong; nearly too strong for Clarke to resist. But the knowledge that Lexa craved Clarke as badly as Clarke craved her... That nearly broke Clarke. Never was Lexa so sexy, so irresistible, as when she let her hunger reign; when she threw self-control aside and let her body make the calls; when she became forceful, even demanding. And it took all of Clarke's strength to separate herself from Lexa's hold.

"Where are you going?" Lexa breathed, frowning up at Clarke as she somehow found her way to her feet.

"Come on." Clarke whispered. She reached down and found Lexa's hands, pulling at her arms. But Lexa pulled right back.

"Come back." Lexa said, her words something between a demand and a plea.

"Come on." Clarke repeated, chuckling at Lexa's pout.

Lexa allowed Clarke to pull her up a few inches then abruptly collapsed back to the floor, flopping dramatically against the linoleum. "I can't... I can't get up." She croaked. "The peristalsis... It's crippling. I think... I think I need a doctor, Doctor Griffin."

"Oh, come on!" Clarke laughed, now fully tugging at Lexa's forearms. "You better get up and come with me before I change my mind."

It was a complete bluff. Clarke knew she would never change her mind. But the threat was more effective than she could have hoped. At her words Lexa sprang to her feet with an agility and grace that no normal person in a restrictive, tight little dress should ever be able to manage. But Lexa's athleticism always did defy normal human boundaries.

"Where are we going?" Lexa asked with a mischievous smile, a cocked brow, the excited glint playing once more in the light of her eyes.

"Help me out of these nasty scrubs?" Clarke pleaded, pulling Lexa towards her as she slowly backed her way down the hall towards the bedroom.

"Oh, you know undressing you is, by far, my greatest talent." Lexa answered, the grin on her face both impossibly dorky and impossibly sexy. "But it took me ten minutes to squeeze into this dress."

"Are you saying it's not coming off?" Clarke pouted, remembering how stubbornly she had refused Lexa on her mother's wedding day so many years ago even though every cell in her body had begged her to give in.

"Oh, no... Of course it's coming off." Lexa laughed. "I just thought you should know what I went through to get it on, is all. Just so you appreciate my efforts."

"Oh. I absolutely appreciate your efforts, Lexa." Clarke replied, wiggling her eyebrows in the way she knew Lexa could never resist. Then again, there wasn't much about Clarke that Lexa ever COULD resist.

"All that hard work squeezing into it..." Clarke teased. "I'll make sure I take my sweet time peeling it off of you."

At Clarke's promise, Lexa pulled her bottom lip between her teeth then ran her tongue over it hungrily, a subconscious habit of hers that Clarke found just as irresistible as Lexa found her. And she was already dying with the anticipation. Peri-fucking-stalsis.

"What about dinner?" Lexa asked, cocking a brow.

"Dinner can wait." Clarke answered, finally reaching the bedroom door and pushing it open with a gentle back-kick. "You told me earlier... We have all the time in the world, remember?" Clarke spoke, feeling the absolute truth of the words, the sense of contentment in her swelling so immensely that it almost obliterated her peristalsis. Almost.

Clarke knew she could never fully satisfy her hunger for Lexa. A million moments beside her would never be enough. She needed Lexa like she needed oxygen, the constant demand never dwindling, returning as fiercely as ever after every breath taken. But now Lexa would always be hers as much as Clarke would always be Lexa's. And Clarke would have every day to tell Lexa she loved her; every day to do everything in her power to prove it true.

"We have all the time in the world." She repeated, pulling Lexa closer as she backed across the threshold of the bedroom door.

"All the time in the world." Lexa agreed, still grinning like a lovesick idiot as she let her fiance drag her through the door and into the darkness beyond.