Chapter Text
6 months later. At a bar.
The bar was quieter now, the hum of conversation and clinking glasses softer than earlier in the night. Clarke, Lexa, and Octavia were seated around a small table near the back, the remnants of their drinks left untouched. Lexa's hand brushed against Clarke's under the table, the familiar, comfortable contact sending a wave of warmth through her chest. Clarke smiled, her thoughts drifting as the memories of the past few years—of longing, miscommunication, and finally, understanding—flooded her mind.
"You okay?" Lexa asked, her voice low but laced with concern.
Clarke glanced at her, meeting her gaze. Lexa’s expression was always so steady, so sure of herself now. It wasn’t always that way, and Clarke couldn’t help but feel grateful for how far they'd come.
“Yeah,” Clarke replied, squeezing her hand in return. “Just... thinking.”
“About what?”
Clarke chuckled, the sound light and easy. “About how much of a mess I was back then. Running away from my feelings when all I had to do was... be honest with myself.”
Lexa’s lips twitched into a soft smile. “You weren’t the only one making mistakes.”
“Yeah, well...” Clarke leaned in a little, her eyes searching Lexa’s. “I think I’ve finally got it all figured out.”
Lexa tilted her head, her smile deepening. “I hope so. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
The simplicity of those words hit Clarke harder than expected. They weren’t declarations or promises—they were just facts. Lexa wasn’t going anywhere. She’d never truly been out of Clarke’s life, not really. They’d circled around each other, never quite crossing the line, never acknowledging the unspoken connection that had always been there. And now, here they were, together.
“Good,” Clarke whispered. “Because I’m not either.”
Octavia, who had been pretending to ignore their intimate moment, suddenly spoke up, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “Well, aren’t you two just the picture of domestic bliss.”
Clarke rolled her eyes, but couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. “Don’t act like you’re not happy about it. You’re the one who practically pushed us together.”
“Me?” Octavia raised an eyebrow. “I only gave you a nudge. You two did all the heavy lifting.”
Clarke shot a quick glance at Lexa, who was chuckling softly at the exchange. A year ago, this moment felt impossible. Three years ago, it would have been a joke. But now? Now it was real. And it was hers.
“I’m just glad it worked out,” Clarke said, her voice softening.
Lexa squeezed her hand again, her thumb brushing across the back of Clarke’s knuckles. “Me too.”
For a moment, there was only the quiet comfort of being with someone who understood, someone who had seen it all—the awkwardness, the missteps, the moments of doubt—and still chose to stay. Clarke leaned in, resting her head on Lexa’s shoulder, savoring the stillness of the moment.
It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t always easy. But they had each other. And for the first time, Clarke felt like she could truly embrace that.
“Do you think we’ll ever stop being so... complicated?” Clarke asked with a small laugh.
“I think the complicated parts are what make it worth it,” Lexa replied, her voice steady, grounding Clarke in the truth of her words. “Besides, we’ve come this far. What’s a little more complexity?”
Clarke smiled, lifting her head to meet Lexa’s eyes. “I think I can handle a little more.”
Octavia cleared her throat, though there was a fondness in her eyes. “Don’t forget, I’m still here. Don’t go getting all sentimental and forget about your favorite meddler.”
Clarke snorted. “We wouldn’t dream of it.”
As they shared a laugh, the weight of the past seemed to lift a little more. Their journey hadn’t been easy, but it had led them here, to this moment of understanding, of acceptance, of love. Clarke knew there would be more challenges, more moments of doubt. But for now, she was content, knowing that she and Lexa were on the same page.
And that was enough.
“Alright,” Octavia said, standing up and clapping her hands. “Enough of the sappy stuff. Let’s go get some actual food. You two can get back to the emotional stuff later.”
Clarke and Lexa exchanged a glance, and then, as if on cue, both stood up, laughing.
“Fine,” Clarke said, wrapping her arm around Lexa’s waist as they walked toward the door. “But you owe us a meal. You know, for all the meddling.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s the least I can do,” Octavia replied, following them out into the cool night air.
As they stepped into the street, their laughter continued to echo, the weight of the past finally easing. Whatever came next, they would face it together. And that was all that mattered.
The End.