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(I never said I wasn't) Yours

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Winter doesn’t let morning light burn her eyes, but Lexa knows it’s later than she usually wakes up. Hands search the mattress and blankets around her to find nothing. She startles awake, heart racing, and for a terrifying, brief moment, Lexa thinks Clarke left.

Until she hears giggling from the living room, followed by a hearty laughter. Clarke’s laughter.

She walks slowly and stops by the living room entrance, resting her shoulder on the wall to watch Clarke and Serah.

Clarke sports a red nose and Lexa can bet she has a nasal congestion, but the alpha smiles through the consequences of last night. She widens clear blue eyes every time Serah shows a new gift she got from her birthday.

“And auntie Raven gave me this!” Serah’s grin could light up the Christmas tree behind them when she takes the toy car from the box.

“Oh wow, this is cool,” Clarke whispers reverently, checking the bright red firefight truck. 

Serah pushes a button and the thing erupts in a loud siren, making Lexa wince. Clarke laughs with her pup, pushing the toy truck between them.

Of course Raven and Anya would choose the loudest toy possible. Lexa swears to buy something equally obnoxiously loud for Liam this Christmas. Maybe a toy ambulance or police car.

“Mommy!” Serah is the first to notice Lexa, running to hug her legs, hands lost in soft sweatpants. “I’m showing mom my gifts! She likes them!”

Lexa hoists her daughter up to her hip, but Serah is so excited that she can’t stop squirming. “We were waiting for you to wake up to have breakfast!”

Clarke joins them with a shy peck on Lexa’s cheek. “Good morning,” she says with a faint smile. 

Frowning, Lexa puts Serah down, who runs to the kitchen singing something about pancakes. Without asking, Lexa palms Clarke’s forehead, feeling it hot.

“You have a fever.”

“It’s nothing.” Clarke takes the hand from her forehead and kisses Lexa’s palm. “I just need some rest.”

Lexa is painfully aware they need to talk about what happened. She needs it, Clarke needs it, and they own it to Serah.

Something clatters in the kitchen and Lexa clears her throat. 

“We should go before she burns Abby’s house down.”

Lexa turns to the kitchen, but an insistent hand stops her and pulls her close. The next second she is between Clarke’s arms.

“Thank you,” Clarke murmurs against her hair, warm nose snuggling a soft spot. It’s a gesture searching for comfort, and Lexa hugs her mate back. "I … thank you, Lex.”

“You’re not alone,” Lexa replies in her own low whisper, finger threading blonde tresses.

“Mom!” Serah calls from the kitchen, blowing their small bubble.

Lexa kisses Clarke’s forehead and takes her hand.

 


 

It’s quiet that night, in their bedroom. The bed is theirs again, after caring for each of them separately and finally feeling complete with two bodies nesting on it. 

Winter doesn’t bother them, hidden behind the thick window and blowing heater. Serah sleeps soundly in her room after an entire day playing with her mothers; she’s exhausted, but happy.

Wounds heal. With time, care and a touch of forgiveness, but they heal.

In the quiet, under the dim light of the solitary lamp on the nightstand, Lexa holds part of her heart. She holds a sobbing Clarke that chooses the darkness to confess. 

Clarke’s hair smell like vanilla, Lexa’s shampoo and the tanginess of relief. 

They talk. Clarke talks about her fears, her shame and five years of regret. What she gained, but also what she lost. And Lexa, Lexa understands: she has a choice. If she chooses Clarke, nights like that will happen again, one way or another. Will Clarke leave? No. But will she fight it every time the need comes, resuming to a boneless pool of tears? Probably.

When Clarke finally stops, her tears marking Lexa’s shoulder, Lexa takes a deep breath. She steadies herself in the trust Clarke gives her. There’s no reason to lie or to pretend anymore. She knows Clarke’s lowest; she knows what Clarke can offer.

And God, Lexa wants it.

So she talks, too. She tells about the dark days, pregnant with no one to care for her aching ankles and lower back. Alone with a small pup that used to cry every single night, fussing at a terrified, first-time mother. She swears. Silently, Clarke takes it all, eyes wide in awe of the sacred, secret thing that is Lexa baring her heart.

Blue eyes shine and Clarke nods, lips parted reventely. Listening. The blows, the excuses, the names. She receives all with the patient silence one only learns after great losses. 

Lexa notices her tears when Clarke thumbs them from her face. It feels good to be cared for, to say what she feels and to reconnect. 

Clarke’s sorry she didn't try harder to contact her when in Africa. 

Lexa promises not to use it against her. 

Clarke accepts her role as alpha, caregiver and protector. Lexa, after years of silently longuing, accepts to receive such care. Being mates is an endless give and take. 

Forgiveness heals the soul, and the best feeling is when one achieves it for themselves.

Lexa cries and it’s cathartic.

She falls asleep to the sound of her alpha’s heart, head tucked warmly on Clarke’s chest.

It’s like being reborn.

 


 

Clarke opens the door to her mother’s house to the sound of laughter and a worryingly burning smell. It’s Christmas Eve afternoon and Abby’s house is full of life.

Life and smoke as Anya and Abby open the kitchen window under the cold to let the burnt smell out.

Raven, cozy in the living room with Liam on her lap, laughs at her wife’s angry stare.

Clarke almost takes a step back at the commotion, but Serah barges in to follow Liam.

“What happened here?” Lexa, the last to enter the house, places the pie they brought on the dining room table. She follows a smirking Abby and a mumbling Anya to the kitchen, a grin blossoming in her face.

“Anya said she would make a better meatloaf than I do,” Raven breathes between puffs of laugher. “She forgot a plastic spoon inside the oven and baked it.”

“Oh boy.” Clarke takes a deep breath and swallows her comment at the murdering glare Anya gives her from the kitchen entrance. 

“Everything is under control,” Abby calls from the back door, where the once meatloaf lies in the garbage outside. “The turkey is enough anyway.”

“Since Anya insisted on cooking, I got wine and kids duty.” Raven smiles at the half empty bottle on the table. Liam is already engrossed in a whispered conversation with Serah about her new fire truck. 

“Wine duty sounds great.” Clarke goes to pour wine for herself until Lexa calls her. 

“No way. It’s your first Christmas with us in so long, so you’re definitely helping Abby with the potato salad.” Lexa walks back to the living room and takes Clarke’s glass from her hands. “I got wine duty this year.”

Clarke fake growls and kisses Lexa’s cheek. 

In the kitchen, peeling potatoes while Abby prepares some dressing and Anya washes fresh tomatoes, Clarke feels content.

“It’s been a while,” Abby says next to her and puts three more potatoes next to Clarke.

“What?” 

Abby dries her hands with a dishcloth, tossing it on the counter when she’s done. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen any of you —” she turns her head to the living room, where Lexa has Liam on her lap and is reading him a book; the rosiness of wine and happiness tinges her cheeks “— really happy.”

Anya mumbles an agreement from the sink. 

Clarke smiles, but then frowns at the potato in her hand. “I want to make them happy.”

“Well, Clarke.” Anya places a hand still wet on her shoulder “That’s the secret.”

Abby nods and complains about Clarke’s potatoes.



Christmas dinner has too much food, wine and laughter; the perfect mix for the small family. Raven and Anya developed a habit to spend Christmas with Lexa, Serah and Abby. Clarke doesn’t dwell on why, focusing on being together with her family again.

Raven, an entire wine bottle down, tells the same joke more than once, though Liam and Serah laugh every time. 

Before cutting the turkey, Abby stands to give a speech, drinking a long gulp and taking a deep breath.

“Once more I thank you for accepting my invitation and being in my home.” She smiles, locking eyes with each person at the table. Liam uses a high chair and Serah sits on a cushion so her dinner won’t be a complete disaster. Shirt #2 is already on. 

“Raven, Anya and Liam are family and good friends.” 

Raven raises her glass and holds Anya’s hand, whispering loudly, “We’re awesome.”

“Lexa,” Abby continues, meeting Lexa’s eyes. “You’re a daughter to me, and a wonderful mother to my favorite grandchild.” She winks at Serah, who giggles and hides her face in Lexa’s chest.  

Clarke swallows thickly when warm brown eyes meet hers. 

“And Clarke ... ” Abby’s fingers tighten around her glass, and her smile trembles with emotion. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

Abby was never one for long speeches, except for when Clarke was a teenager, and it ends with clapping and a hooray from Raven. Clarke releases the breath she was holding, searching Lexa’s hand on the table. 

She doesn’t feel like an intruder. After years searching, Clarke is finally home.



Raven and Anya have the guest room upstairs, next to Serah’s room where the pups will sleep. Clarke and Anya are on cleaning duty downstairs while a tipsy Raven and an excited Lexa try to get the pups to sleep. 

“And that’s the story of how Santa Claus had to buy a new magic sleigh due to a massive recall of reindeers.”

Two pairs of tired, but curious eyes stare at Raven as she finishes the story. Lexa tries her best not to burst out laughing.

“Is Santa using the new sleigh to bring us presents tomorrow?” Serah asks shyly. Lexa adjusts the collar of her fluffy pajamas and Liam yawns, more used to Raven’s unconventional stories. 

“Yes, baby, he will,” Lexa answers before Raven can start a new plot twist in what is supposed to be a short bedtime story. 

Satisfied, the pups snuggle close together in Serah’s bed. Both Raven and Lexa kiss their foreheads and tiptoe out of the room.

“If Liam presents as an omega, we’re having problems,” Raven sighs once they’re in the hallway. 

Lexa opens her mouth to argue, but stops herself at Raven’s playful eyes. “It’s not a problem, but they’re technically cousins,” Raven completes. 

“Raven, Serah’s five.”

“It’s never too soon to be vigilant!”

Anya and Clarke climb up the stairs, finding their mates in a whispered argument about their pups.

“An, tell her it’s never too soon to be vigilant!” Raven whines and Anya raises one eyebrow. 

“Is she worried about Liam and Serah again?” Anya asks, exasperated.

“About what?” Clarke tries to enter the conversation, but Lexa places both hands on her shoulders to guide her back downstairs, where their guest room is ready. 

“Don’t worry about it. Raven gets super protective when she’s tipsy.”

“Do I need to give Serah the talk?” Clarke jokes when they get downstairs.

“She just learned how to pee standing up. Let’s enjoy it while this is the only activity she uses her penis for, okay.” They laugh under the blinking lights of the Christmas tree. Clarke and Anya had arranged the presents, a colorful pile of boxes. Chances are high the kids will wake up early, so they thought it was better to sleep with everything ready than to explain why Santa was late.

“Clarke?” Lexa takes Clarke’s hand, stopping the alpha before she can enter their room.

“What?” Clarke turns and faces Lexa, a timid smile tugging at her lips. 

Lexa’s eyes drift to Clarke’s lips and she leans forward. 

The kiss is soft, warm, and Lexa melts into it, her hands wrapping around Clarke’s neck. After a night of celebration, the house is quiet, safe. They hear the wind outside, the dying music of the neighbors, and a solitary dog barking. 

Red, green and blue dance in Lexa’s eyes, a layer of longing coating the blinking lights. 

They meet in another kiss, deeper, longer, and Clarke doesn’t hear anything else but the moan trapped in Lexa’s throat. Hands that were peacefully resting behind Clarke’s neck roam down to her back and waist. Their heaving chests touch, and under the soft layer of Lexa’s shirt, Clarke feels peaked nipples. 

Lexa breathes hard when their foreheads meet, licking her lips and tasting wine and Clarke. 

“Today was the best night of my life,” Clarke whispers in the stillness of Christmas Eve. “And it’s thanks to you.”

Lexa kisses her open mouth, and then latches on Clarke’s neck; the alpha shudders. 

“I want to make you happy too, Lexa.” Clarke struggles to say the words as Lexa’s tongue maintains a steady work on her pulse point. “Let me take care of you.”

At that, Lexa stops. She leaves feathery kisses on Clarke’s chin, nose, cheeks, until finally meeting her eyes. She looks deeply into Clarke’s eyes, into the layer of tears dancing under the lights. Lexa opens her mouth to respond, to say anything, but her words die in silence. After a deep breath, she tries again.

“Yes.” It’s a single word, but clear. 

Honestly, Clarke’s alpha wants something else. But it’s not to be given in the quiet of the living room with a pile of toys as witness. 

So Clarke accepts what Lexa has to give and kisses her again.

It’s Lexa who suggests the bedroom when Clarke pins her next to the Christmas tree and a decorative bell rings in the room filled with gasps. Clarke smirks and follows Lexa, stealing small kisses here and there until finally, the door locks behind them.

Clarke doesn’t know how far this will go. It’s Lexa’s call, as their encounters have been. Her growing member has its own opinions, and the memory of the condoms in her backpack flashes vividly when Lexa finds her pulse point again. However, giving up control to the woman she loves is the most freeing feeling Clarke has ever felt.

She is Lexa’s. 

Lexa’s hands are soft, but secure when she unbuttons Clarke’s blouse. Clarke allows the hands to touch, explore, expose. When Lexa leans down to capture one nipple with her mouth, Clarke tries to keep her eyes open, to watch it, but when Lexa adds pressure, she’s gone. She rolls her eyes back at the sensation of Lexa sucking her, tasting her. 

Lexa pulls back with a loud pop, mouth agape at Clarke. She takes a step back to the bed, hands pulling and holding and wanting and Clarke follows. Lexa sits on the bed first, and doesn’t resist a lick to a stiff nipple. Clarke moans and places her knees next to Lexa’s hips, the omega using the space to shed her blouse. Clarke takes the advantage to open her zipper, but Lexa’s hands stop her. 

It’s a clear gesture of dominance and Clarke’s erection throbs. 

“I want to kiss you,” Lexa says in the dim room and Clarke is the happiest of alphas to comply, kneeling on the bed to find Lexa’s lips. It’s getting messy, hard and there’s more teeth than tongue, but it’s theirs. 

When they pull apart, Clarke latches on her old mating mark by Lexa’s neck, whispering into the hot skin, “And I want to taste you.”

She doesn’t go lower than Lexa’s exposed collarbones, hands itching to discard the bra teasing her. But Clarke waits, she waits in the certainty that Lexa has waited enough.

It’s the most beautiful nod Clarke has ever seen. “I love you,” she confesses to the mating mark, feeling Lexa’s body shiver for a second; only to melt under her mouth again.

Clarke doesn’t waste the gift that is presented to her. She makes every touch, lick and nip count. She loves Lexa’s breasts with care, patience and reverence. Lexa is the one not subtly pushing her down, which owns the omega a playful growl. 

Though Clarke’s patience evaporates the second Lexa breathes, “I need you.”

Clarke’s alpha takes place and she aims her attention lower. 

She ventures through hips that discarded pants expose. She kisses the secret path under Lexa’s belly button, nosing her way between coarse, dark hair until she smells, tastes and lives Lexa’s arousal. 

Lexa’s gasps, whimpers and muffled moans are Clarke’s breath of life. She works diligently, watching for every reaction, every crease, every inch that needs caring. After consent, one finger gives Lexa pleasure, and it’s everything Clarke thought it would be and more.

She is Lexa’s. 

A hand fists Clarke’s wild locks, desperate; moans escalate, testing the thin walls; a whispered yes hits Clarke’s ears; and through all, Clarke never stops. She plunges and tastes and risks her muscles to the limit until Lexa freezes.

Then melts in sweet aftershocks and an obscene moan that almost make Clarke come on the sheets.  

But Clarke is not satisfied with one.

She gives Lexa a break by focusing on light licks at trembling hips. After a long, teasing bite, blue eyes meet tired green over an expanse of skin. Clarke finds the abused clit again and Lexa’s head falls on the pillow, unable to hold itself.

The second orgasm is quicker, shorter, but Lexa is still trembling when Clarke climbs to claim her victory kiss.

Clarke rests her head between Lexa’s breasts, breathing in her sweaty skin and listening to a rapid heart calm down. A hand plays with Clarke’s messy hair and she sighs contently.

“Merry Christmas,” Lexa mumbles, a little drowsy, and Clarke lifts her head to see Lexa’s face.

Lexa’s smile grows into a smirk and Clarke mirrors her. 

They have to use their hands so the mis of giggles and laughter won’t wake up the house. 

“Merry Christmas,” Clarke says, catching her breath. “Do you think that was my present for you?”

Lexa’s eyes shine with something Clarke risks to call happiness. “I’m not complaining if that was.”

“I guess I can return the other one, then.”

“No!” Lexa leans forward to catch Clarke’s lips, hands behind her head. “I’m okay with two gifts.”

“Two? I thought that would make it three.” Clarke raises an eyebrow, her teeth showing at her proud smile.

Lexa rolls her eyes, but finds Clarke’s lips with another kiss. It deepens and the light mood turns into arousal, hands touching breasts and naked backs. With a push of her hips, Lexa turns them so she’s on top.

There’s no way she hasn’t felt Clarke’s erection by now, snuggled between them and requesting attention.

With her back fully on the mattress and her mate hovering over her, Clarke rests her head on the pillow and stares up at Lexa. Eyes hooded, a darker shade to the usual green, brown hair falling in cascades framing a bashful smile.

“I love you,” Clarke says and watches that smile grow. 

Lexa leans down enough so only their noses touch, soft, gentle. “I love you too.”

Clarke distracts herself in the kiss until a hand slips between them, slow but sure, and holds her.

“Lex?” She more moans than asks, trapped in the feeling of Lexa’s warm hand. 

“I want to do this.” Lexa meets Clarke’s eyes and tugs once, slowly, up and down. Clarke whimpers. 

“Sex?” Clarke needs all possible consent before doing anything stupid. She gets harder, if possible, when Lexa nods and breathes a tiny yes. 

But then Lexa frowns, her lips pulling down and she shakes her head.

“I don’t have any—”

“Condoms!” Clarke offers, too far gone to contain her excitement. “I have some, I mean, I bought it, I didn’t think we’d actually use it, but I kinda got them and—”

“Clarke?” Lexa places a finger from her free hand on Clarke’s blabbering lips. “It’s ok.”

Clarke grips harder on Lexa’s hips, nodding. When she doesn’t say or do anything, Lexa completes, “Aren’t you going to get it?”

“Yes, right, yes!” Clarke blinks harder to bring herself back to the moment. Lexa leans back, sitting on her haunches to free the trapped alpha.

Clarke hops from the bed to search through her backpack, hands blindly going through her things. Her phone charger, laptop and toothbrush on the floor, she finally gets the small box, a triumphant exclamation leaving her lips.

Amazed, Lexa hides her smile poorly as Clarke flops back onto the bed. She tears the box with her teeth and rips the foil package, a clean extraction. 

“What?” Clarke asks as she cuddles closer, condom rolled in place. 

Smiling, Lexa straddles her alpha. “You look eager,” she jokes.

“I am eager.” Clarke runs her hands up and down Lexa’s back. “I’ve been imagining being with you like this for years. Lexa, this—” She nuzzles Lexa’s neck, pulling her close and mouthing her mating scar. “—this, you … you’re my mate. I’m sorry if I wasn’t the best mate.” Her voice muffles on soft skin, but Lexa hears each word. “You gave me the most precious things in my life. Serah.” Clarke kisses the sensitive skin under Lexa’s chin. “And your love.”

Clarke feels the sigh Lexa breathes when she pushes her head back. But Lexa doesn’t use words to express herself, instead using a hand to guide Clarke inside.

It’s not the desperate lovemaking from separated mates. Neither is innocently slow when memories come to life: where to touch, where to kiss and where to push to give pleasure. When Lexa hisses in discomfort, Clarke offers reassurement. When Clarke is too close, Lexa brings her down with care.

But when Lexa is the one peaking, riding her mate until she’s covered in sweat, Clarke encourages her, pushing up and going to her limit. 

Clarke kisses the tears away, panting while holding her own pleasure back.  

“Clarke?” Lexa whispers, finding her voice after suppressing a scream, her body relaxed with another orgasm, but feeling the shaking in Clarke’s body beneath her, the tension.

Lexa looks down confused when Clarke exposes her neck, eyes glistening, baring herself. “What …” It dawns on Lexa what she’s doing, green eyes widening. 

Clarke, an alpha, offering submission. Not only offering, needing it , by the way nails sink on Lexa’s skin, pleading. 

Lexa doesn’t break skin, an action reserved for the fog of rut and heat, but she sinks her teeth hard enough to bruise a new mark on Clarke’s neck. And it’s what the alpha needs to finally, beautifully, reach release.

The hold of Lexa’s mouth waivers as Clarke moans, but it doesn’t break. Only when Clarke is calming down Lexa frees the marked skin. She finds Clarke’s eyes, vivid and clear with tears. Clarke’s breath fans Lexa’s lips, warm and slowing. One hand pushes Lexa’s hair behind her ears, a timid smile tugging Clarke’s cheek.

“Let me love you,” Clarke whispers in the bedroom too warm for a Christmas night. “Let me take care of you.” She punctuates the words with a kiss on Lexa’s blushing cheeks. “Let me be yours.”

Lexa thumbs the new mark on Clarke’s neck, a sister to the faded one on her shoulder. Lexa is the only woman to mark that skin, to make a promise to this alpha and to renew what once was lost.

Lexa cries when they kiss again.

 


 

Lexa wakes at the winter sunrise, that mid morning, lazy change when the skies get clearer. She dresses in her pajamas and helps a sleeping Clarke into sweatpants and a shirt. She frowns at the sheets and promises herself to bring them home to wash them for Abby — the idea of Abby getting a sniff of what happened here is cringy enough. 

She unlocks the door and lay next to Clarke again, laying down a new blanket and playing with light curls of blond hair. It’s not long until tiny and overexcited feet scramble upstairs, and not a minute later a ball of energy burst into their room and jumps on the bed.

Serah lands on Clarke’s chest, who wakes up with a surprised gasp — half surprise and half pain. Lexa grins as Clarke situates herself, first holding the pup jumping on her chest, then realizing she’s actually wearing clothes, up to finally murmuring a good morning to her family.

“ — and grandma pancakes, and presents and snow balls and —” Serah is in a rampant speech about Christmas morning and all Lexa can do is watch Clarke doing her best not to feel overwhelmed.

Pitying her mate, Lexa rolls off the bed and pulls Serah off Clarke, settling her on the floor. The five year old never stops talking and runs away from the room as soon as her socked feet hit the carpet. 

“Is it like that every Christmas?” Clarke asks from the bed, one hand to her chest.

“She hasn’t had sugar yet. Just you wait.” Lexa sits back on the mattress, leaning to press a soft kiss on Clarke’s cheek as she yawns. “Merry Christmas.”

Clarke touches Lexa’s cheek, turning so they can meet in a soft peck. “Merry Christmas.”

“Mommy!” Serah once more enters the room with the delicacy of a tornado, prolonging the first vogal with a high pitch only a frustrated kid can reach. “Let’s go open the presents!” She’s off again before any of them can say a word.

They hear clatter from the kitchen, Liam excited squeak and what sounds suspiciously like a mumbling Raven.

“C’mon.” Lexa stands up and offers her hand to help Clarke.

 

It’s simple, warm and the best Christmas morning of Clarke’s adult life.

Raven nurses her third water bottle and insists she’s not hungover, ignoring Liam when he asks what hungover means. Abby is kind to explain that it is when adults make poor decisions involving wine.

Anya manages to not burn the frittata, bringing an unusual smile to her face, which only grows when Liam opens the present from his parents: a card telling him that he will be able to choose a puppy or kitten after the holidays (that Raven reads in Santa's voice). He jumps on his moms and it takes Raven a few tries to explain the puppy is not there yet. Understanding, he doesn’t stop babbling about names. ‘Police Hat’ is name number one until now.

Abby fills the pups with sugar in the form of all colors of candy canes and brushes off Lexa’s concerns. “It’s Christmas, let me be an irresponsible grandma for once.” Neither Liam nor Serah complain.

When Abby notices the new mark on Clarke’s neck, when they’re doing the dishes, she takes an entire minute to hug her daughter. 

Raven groans out loud when Liam opens the present Clarke and Lexa give him: the most indecently loud police car they could find. 

Serah likes her new superhero collection, but she keeps whining about a puppy since that’s all Liam talks about. Lexa wrinkles her nose and suggests a kitten in the hope they could have it in the apartment. Clarke can imagine the fur on the bed, but doesn’t say no at her daughter’s puppy eyes. It’s a new apartment, but maybe they should consider a house.

Abby makes hot chocolate in the kitchen with Anya’s help. Raven is the living mountain that Lexa, Liam and Serah have to go through with a new police car and superheroes. Clarke sits on the couch making videos everytime Raven groans. 

The house smells like cinnamon, snow and happiness.

 


 

 

The cat is a scrawny little calico kitten that cannot meow for the life of her. Lexa and Serah picked her up from the shelter themselves, and when Clarke comes home to a kitty scratching her couch, but lovely nonetheless, she knows it’s a lost battle. 

They name her Quiet, a cat that does quite the rackous for her lack of voice.

Winter is filled with Quiet’s fur and Serah’s laugher. 

 


 

 

Having Clarke back in her life meant little changes that bundled up in a complete metamorphosis for Lexa. With more time for herself and work, now that she’s not a single parent, spring brings what she never thought she would deserve again: a promotion. 

It’s still desk jobs, safe and sound in the precinct, but it’s another symbol of how things can change.

She picks up flowers on her way back home.

 


 

 

In the summer wedding season, Clarke looks beautiful in her blue dress as Lexa shines in a salmon gown at Costia and Alex’s wedding.

Yes, who would have thought. 

Serah chases the flower girl after the ceremony in an endless game of tag and by the end of the night both Lexa and Clarke are tipsy.

They make love in their bathroom with Lexa’s dress bunched up around her hips.

 


 

 

Serah loses a baby tooth in the fall, a little earlier than most children. Clarke takes pictures and Lexa promises the tooth fairy will visit her if she places the tooth under her pillow.

She promptly loses the tooth and Clarke is pretty sure Quiet ate it.

A five dollar bill still appears under Serah’s pillow and they all have M&M’s cookies at the park.

 


 

 

Winter comes with a surprise.

“Are you sure?” Clarke hovers over Lexa as the omega sits down on their bed, hands massaging her temples and an infuriating smile fighting its way through her nauseated grimace.

“Yes,” Lexa says tiredly, memories from the last time her body rebelled against her that way.  

Clarke tries to look sympathetic, a hand on Lexa’s lower back and she joins her mate on the bed, but her cheeks hurt from her smile. She buries her nose on Lexa’s neck, breathing the ripe scent of omega. 

“I love you,” she whispers to the marked skin, nosing the spot fondly. 

“I’m glad you’re with me this time,” Lexa says after a heartbeat, but it lacks the usual weight of a bitter confession. It’s a simple acknowledgment of her relief, besides the reason to be scared.

They stay in bed and have an impromptu Wednesday afternoon nap.

 


 

 

On the Christmas season that Serah just turned seven, Abby had to get a bigger table for the family.

Raven has Hannah on her shoulders as Anya plays with Liam and Serah on the floor. Clarke her one of the twins against her chest and the other nurses quietly on the couch with Lexa. From the kitchen, Abby finishes the last touches on dinner, and even though there’s a silent understanding to not be loud because of the babies, a warm coat of excitement fills the room.

As Aden burps loudly on Lexa’s lap and Jacob whines hungrily at the sound of his brother, Clarke lets this feeling settle into her tired bones. Serah smiles toothless from the floor and rushes to play with her brother’s turf of blonde hair. 

Snow falls outside and Abby calls everyone for dinner.