“Oh my goddd, this is heaven,” Clarke says, plopping down on the bed and rolling onto her stomach. “I know you wanted to make the trip without stopping, but another minute in that torture-trap car of yours and I would’ve developed scoliosis.”
An annoyed huff sounds from behind her and Clarke grins against the comforter. Sure, she may have derailed Lexa’s plans for an efficient trip to their Habitat for Humanity location, but honestly, driving for 20 straight hours without sleep is just plain unsafe. Lexa’s going to thank her when they’re both well-rested tomorrow.
“I’ll email the organizer to let them know we’ll be late,” Lexa says.
“If you actually let me behind the wheel for once I can make up the time tomorrow. I drive fast.”
“I have no idea what you just said, Clarke. You’re speaking directly into the mattress.”
Clarke sighs and turns onto her back, frowning when she sees Lexa still standing in the motel room doorway.
“You look like you’re about to bolt,” she says, then pats the space next to her. “Come here and experience the most comfortable bed $99/night can buy.”
Lexa crosses her arms and shifts on her feet, making Clarke worry she actually is going to make a run for it, but then she rolls her eyes and starts walking toward the bed.
“At that price I don’t see why we couldn’t get two beds,” Lexa says, sitting on the edge of the mattress as far away from Clarke as she can get.
“You heard the guy at reception – we’re lucky to have a room at all! And this bed is plenty big to share. I know I wasn’t your first choice of carpool buddies, but am I really that bad?”
Clarke rolls onto her side and props her head up on her arm, fixing Lexa with her most dramatic pout. Lexa narrows her gaze at her, but the glare falters after a few seconds.
“No,” she says softly, pressing her lips together to hide a smile.
Clarke isn’t sure what wakes her up.
She lies still for a moment, taking stock of her surroundings. It’s dark, the only light coming from the green glow of a clock on the nightstand, so she can’t have been asleep for long.
There’s a rattling noise in the distance that sounds an awful lot like an ice machine, which is when she remembers the car trip and the roadside motel and her grumpy carpool-mate who seemed totally sick of her.
Something brushes against Clarke’s waist, then, which is odd, because she distinctly remembers Lexa getting under the covers on the opposite side of the bed and rolling onto her side, facing away from Clarke as she turned out the light.
“You look like you’re gonna fall off the mattress,” Clarke had said.
“I don’t move much in my sleep,” Lexa replied. “Goodnight, Clarke.”
But Clarke opens her eyes to find Lexa’s face inches from hers and – hah – “don’t move much” her ass.
Now that she’s completely awake Clarke can’t help but take the opportunity to admire Lexa’s sleeping face, features soft and bare of her daytime surliness. She really is beautiful, Clarke thinks, but then Lexa’s hand slides over Clarke’s hip and around to her back, slipping beneath her shirt, and Clarke wishes she’d never had that thought.
It’s nice, lying with her like this, but she knows conscious Lexa would be mortified, so Clarke gently lifts her arm from where it had curled around Lexa’s shoulders and starts to shift backwards to put some space between them. But the instant she moves Lexa’s brow furrows and she flinches, curling inward and huffing out a whimper against Clarke’s neck.
Clarke shudders, trying and failing to ignore the wave of heat that courses through her, and wraps her arm around Lexa again, rubbing soothing circles on her back.
“Shh, you’re okay,” she whispers. “Wake up, Lexa. It’s just a dream. You’re okay.”
She presses her lips to Lexa’s forehead, murmuring against her skin, and when her body stiffens Clarke knows she’s awake. Lexa’s hand slides back to Clarke’s hip and she tightens her grip, fingertips pressing into Clarke’s skin, like she’s trying to determine what she’s nestled against.
Lexa voice is rough and slow with drowsiness, and another hot pulse shoots through Clarke’s veins. She tries to press her thighs together only to realize that Lexa’s knee has worked its way between the two of hers and, oh fuck.
“It’s okay,” she says, keeping her voice low. “You had a nightmare. Go back to sleep.”
Lexa leans back, just a little, blinking sleep-heavy eyes and meeting Clarke’s gaze. Her brow is still furrowed, but in an adorable way, and Clarke waits for her to blush and jolt back to her side of the bed.
But Lexa just looks at her, eyes falling to her lips, and Clarke’s pretty sure she sees her swallow.
“Like this?” she asks.
Clarke nods, pulling Lexa close as she curls back into her, nestling her head in the crook of Clarke’s neck. And maybe it’s not the best decision, but they’re in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night, and Clarke has her own nightmares she’d like to keep at bay.
The next time Clarke wakes up Lexa’s fingers are resting on the skin just above her bellybutton and her nose is pressing against the back of her neck.
“We should get up,” Clarke whispers, making no effort to move.
Lexa whines, shaking her head against her neck as her fingers drift higher up Clarke’s body.
“Not yet,” she murmurs. “Besides, you said you drive fast.”