Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

    The soft, golden light of early morning filtered through the blinds, pooling on the walls of Raven’s guest room. Clarke stirred, her body heavy with the comforting weight of sleep. For a moment, she blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling, confusion rippling through her as her eyes scanned the modest room. It wasn’t until she spotted her planner and keys neatly arranged on the nightstand, alongside a stray wrench Raven must’ve left behind, that the haze began to lift.

    Raven’s apartment. Right.

    Clarke sat up slowly, brushing a hand through her tousled blonde hair. The faint hum of the city outside mixed with the muffled sounds of activity in the kitchen. She took a moment to soak in her surroundings: the faint scent of motor oil and grease that seemed embedded in the walls, the scattered posters of engineering blueprints, and a stack of well-worn novels on the small bookshelf. It was undeniably Raven—chaotic yet oddly homey.

    A small smile curved her lips as memories from the previous night surfaced. Lexa’s calm but captivating presence during their impromptu dinner. The unexpected presence of the kitten, Juno—the name she’d hastily given the kitten—curled up in her lap once they were settled in Raven's apartment. They decided to bring the kitten back from Clarke's studio last night.

    Clarke swung her legs over the edge of the bed, feeling a slight chill from the hardwood floors. It wasn’t her first time staying over, but it was always a shift from her meticulously arranged apartment. Still, there was something grounding about being here, as if Raven’s space was a small anchor amidst her otherwise routine life.

    The smell of coffee greeted her as she padded barefoot into the kitchen, the sight of Raven standing over the toaster adding a sense of normalcy to the morning. Clarke leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching her best friend wrestle with the peanut butter jar.

    “Morning,” Clarke said, her voice still heavy with sleep.

    Raven glanced up, her lips twitching into a smirk. “Look who decided to grace us with her presence. Sleep well, princess?”

    Clarke rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the amused smile that tugged at her mouth. 
  
  “As well as one can in a guestroom that smells like WD-40 and poor life choices.”

    “Hey, I resent that,” Raven shot back, mock offense in her tone. “My life choices are fantastic. You just lack the vision to appreciate them.”

    Clarke snorted and moved to pour herself a cup of coffee. “Right, because waking up to motor oil and a random wrench on the nightstand is every girl’s dream.” She shot Raven a pointed look but tempered it with a smirk. “Your place is basically an advertisement for chaos theory.”

    “Chaos theory works,” Raven countered with a shrug, setting a plate of toast on the counter. “The world is held together by duct tape and luck, so I’m just following nature’s lead.”

    “Good for the world,” Clarke replied dryly, taking a seat. “But I still prefer waking up without feeling like I’ve been transported into an auto shop.”

    As she reached for her plate, Clarke frowned at the peanut butter smeared on the toast instead of her usual strawberry jam.

    “No jam?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow as she examined the toast like it had personally offended her.

    Raven, leaning against the counter, crossed her arms. “Sorry, Your Highness, the peanut butter will have to do. Some of us live a normal life.”

    Clarke’s lips twitched. “Normal is subjective, Reyes. And so is taste. This,” she held up the toast with a mock glare, “is a poor substitute for perfection.”

    “Oh, I’m sorry,” Raven drawled, rolling her eyes. “Next time I’ll roll out the red carpet and personally hand-feed you organic strawberries.”

    “Glad we’re on the same page,” Clarke said, deadpan, taking a bite.

    The two exchanged a glance before both of them broke into laughter, the sound filling the small kitchen.

    “So, what’s the plan? The usual Sunday pilgrimage to the Griffins?” Raven asked, smirking as she sipped her coffee.

    “You know it,” Clarke replied between bites. “9:00 AM sharp. Routine is sacred, you know.”

    “Yeah, yeah,” Raven teased. “It’s a miracle you survived yesterday with all those disruptions. First the kitten, then Lexa. Honestly, you deserve a medal.”

    Clarke narrowed her eyes at her friend but couldn’t help the soft flush that crept up her cheeks at the mention of Lexa. “I’ll have you know I handled it just fine.”

    Raven grinned knowingly. “Oh, I’m sure you did. You’re glowing this morning, though. Wonder why.”

    “Shut up,” Clarke said, tossing a balled-up napkin in Raven’s direction, though her smile gave her away.

    As the conversation shifted to the kitten, Clarke’s voice softened. “Thanks again for letting Juno stay here. I just… couldn’t leave her alone in the studio all day.”

    Raven waved her off. “No problem. She’s tiny but feisty. Kinda reminds me of you.”

Clarke laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll check in about her later, but I really appreciate it.”

    After breakfast, Clarke retreated to the guest room to get ready. Opening the small closet, she pulled out a neatly folded pair of jeans and a soft sweater she’d left there for mornings like this. It was one of her favorite routines—having a piece of herself tucked away in Raven’s space.

    As she smoothed her sweater over her torso and slipped on her shoes, Clarke glanced at her reflection in the mirror. There was something different about her today, though she couldn’t quite name it. Maybe it was the lingering warmth from the night before or the idea of Lexa crossing her mind more than she cared to admit. Either way, she felt lighter.

    Grabbing her bag and keys, she stepped out of the room and into the living space where Raven was lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

    “Heading out?” Raven asked without looking up.

    “Yeah. Need to stick to the schedule,” Clarke quipped, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

    Raven finally looked up, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

    “Wouldn’t want to be any other way.” Clarke walked to the door but paused, turning back to Raven. “Thanks again, for everything. I’ll check in about Juno later.”

    Raven waved her off. “Go. Say hi to your parents for me. And don’t forget—routine doesn’t mean boring.”

    Clarke chuckled, the familiar banter filling her with a sense of ease as she stepped out into the crisp morning air.

---

    The streets of Arkadia were peaceful this early on a Sunday morning, bathed in the soft golden light of winter sunlight. Clarke drove with one hand loosely on the wheel, the other resting on the edge of the seat. The heater hummed quietly in the car, keeping her cocooned in warmth as she passed by familiar landmarks: the old bookstore she used to frequent, the park where she and Raven would hang out as kids, and the corner café bustling with a few early risers.

    She loved these quiet drives, where the world felt paused and she could enjoy the solitude. But today, her mind was anything but still. Her thoughts kept circling back to the events of the weekend.

    The kitten had been the first surprise. Its curious, chaotic energy had thrown her routine out of balance, yet she couldn’t deny the joy it brought her. Then there was Lexa—unexpected and intriguing. Clarke couldn’t shake the memory of Lexa’s calm demeanor as they stood in Raven’s workshop or the ease with which they’d fallen into conversation over dinner.

    A small smile tugged at her lips as she thought about Lexa’s subtle wit and the way her eyes seemed to hold a quiet intensity. 

    Why do I feel like she understand?

    Clarke wondered, her grip on the wheel tightening momentarily. It was a strange sensation, equal parts comfort and curiosity.

    As she turned onto her parents’ street, Clarke exhaled, shaking her head lightly. “You’re overthinking it,” she murmured to herself, though her smile lingered.

---

    Clarke pulled into the driveway of her parents’ cozy two-story home. The house was exactly as she remembered it from her childhood—well-kept but lived-in, with flowerbeds neatly lining the front porch despite the season. She turned off the engine and sat for a moment, letting the hum of the car fade into the quiet.

    The warmth of her morning with Raven still lingered, and she felt oddly light. It wasn’t just the kitten or Lexa—though they played their parts—but something about this weekend had reminded her how much joy she could find in the unpredictable.

    Clarke grabbed her bag from the passenger seat and stepped out, breathing in the crisp air. She smiled faintly as she approached the front door, the familiar creak of the porch steps grounding her in the moment.

---

    “Clarke, sweetheart!” Abby greeted warmly as she opened the door, wrapping her daughter in a tight hug.

    Clarke stiffened slightly at the sudden pressure, a flicker of discomfort crossing her face before she forced herself to relax. 
    
    She’s just happy to see you, Clarke reminded herself, exhaling quietly as she returned the hug.

    “Hi, Mom,” she said, the corners of her lips lifting into a smile. Despite the brief awkwardness, there was a warmth to being home that she couldn’t deny.

    Jake appeared in the hallway, a cup of coffee in hand. “There’s my girl! You’re looking chipper this morning. What’s got you in such a good mood?” he teased, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

    Clarke rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the flush creeping up her neck.

    “I’m always in a good mood,” she replied, slipping off her coat.

    “Not like this,” Abby chimed in, her gaze soft but knowing. “You’re glowing, Clarke. Did something happen?”

    Clarke hesitated, caught off guard by their observation. “I guess… it’s just been a different kind of weekend,” she admitted, a hint of shyness in her tone.

    Jake raised an eyebrow. “Different how? Spill the details!”

    They settled in the living room, Jake lounging in his favorite armchair while Abby perched on the edge of the couch. Clarke sat across from them, her hands loosely clasped around a mug of tea Abby had handed her.

    “Well,” Clarke began, a sheepish smile forming. “Yesterday started pretty normal. I was at the studio early, like always. But then, I found this kitten—this tiny, scrappy gray thing—hiding on one of the shelves.”

    “A kitten?” Abby’s face lit up. “Where is it now?”

    “With Raven,” Clarke answered. “I couldn’t leave it alone all day while I came here, so we took it back to her apartment last night.”

    Jake chuckled. “Let me guess—it made a mess before you caught it?”

    Clarke laughed softly, nodding, “Oh, you have no idea. She knocked over my brushes, managed to puncture a tube of paint, and then stepped in it. There were tiny blue paw prints everywhere. It was chaos, but… I don’t know. It kind of made me happy, I guess,”

    “Sounds like a handful,” Abby said, smiling warmly.

    “It was, but in a good way,” Clarke admitted, her tone softening. “It threw me off my usual rhythm, but I didn’t mind. And then…”

    She trailed off, her gaze flicking down to her mug.

    “And then?” Jake prompted, leaning forward slightly.

    “Well,” Clarke said, shifting in her seat, “when I was at Raven’s shop later, someone’s car was towed in, and the owner was Anya's cousin and bestfriend. You guys already know Anya, right?" Clarke asked distractedly, and Jake and Abby nodded.

    "Yeah, good. Oh, and her name’s Lexa. Anya's cousin and bestfriend.”

    “Lexa,” Abby repeated, her voice laced with curiosity.

    Clarke nodded, her smile growing. “She’s… interesting. Composed but approachable. She ended up joining us for dinner last night at our usual diner. And later, she even came with us to Raven's apartment for some beer. It’s just… I don’t know. It all felt weird because her deadbeat car disrupted my routine at Raven's. But my days were already in chaos because of the cat, so," Clarke shrugged her shoulder.

    Jake chuckled at his daughter's blunt honesty.

    "She didn't shy away from my bluntness, even cracked her own dry humor. She didn't act like I'm weird for ordering the same thing at diner, or when I stared at her. I saw a green I've never seen before, Dad. Her eyes are beautiful," Clarke sighed dreamily, she loved discovering new colors.

    Abby’s smile widened, her expression thoughtful. “She sounds lovely.”

    “She is,” Clarke said quietly, almost to herself.

    Jake leaned back in his chair, a sly grin on his face. “So, you’re saying you might actually be making time for someone outside of Raven? Miracles do happen.”

    Clarke laughed, shaking her head. “It’s not like that. We just met.”

    “But you like her,” Abby said gently, her tone more statement than question.

    Clarke hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I think I do.”

    But Clarke didn't know to what extend she 'liked' Lexa. Not yet.

    As the morning turned to midday, Clarke joined her parents in the kitchen to prepare lunch. The sound of chopping vegetables and the clinking of utensils filled the space, interspersed with laughter as they shared stories.

    “You know,” Jake said as he set the table, “this whole kitten thing reminds me of when you were a kid. You couldn’t walk past a stray without wanting to take it home.”

    Clarke laughed, stirring a pot on the stove.
 
    “What can I say? I'm a creature of habits.”

    Abby smiled warmly as she handed Clarke a bowl. “It’s nice, though. Seeing you take joy in something outside of work. And hearing about Lexa… it feels like you’re letting yourself open up again.”

    Clarke paused, her expression softening. “Maybe I am,” she admitted. “It’s been a long time since I felt like this. Like… there’s something worth exploring other than my routines.”

    Her parents exchanged a glance, both of them smiling knowingly.

    “Well,” Jake said, sitting down, “whether it’s kittens, Lexa, or whatever else life throws your way, just remember we’re here for you.”
Clarke’s chest tightened with something she didn't know how to handle, but she smiled. “I know. Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Mom.”

    They settled into lunch, the warmth of family and possibility filling the air. For the first time in a while, Clarke felt like she was exactly where she needed to be.

    The familiar scent of home—fresh laundry mixed with the faint aroma of Abby’s signature potpourri—lingered in the air as Clarke slipped her coat back on. Her movements were deliberate, the afternoon routine of saying goodbye well-practiced and comforting.

    “Drive safe, sweetheart,” Abby said, wrapping her arms around Clarke in a hug that was softer than the morning’s, but still made Clarke pause. She adjusted quickly, leaning into the warmth, though her hands twitched slightly before she settled them against Abby’s back.

    “Mom,” Clarke began, pulling away gently, “I’ll be fine. It’s just Raven’s place, not across the country.”

    “I know, but…” Abby hesitated, her hand resting lightly on Clarke’s arm. Her tone softened. “You’re glowing, Clarke. I haven’t seen you this at ease in a while. Whatever this is—Lexa, the kitten—just follow your instincts, okay? You’re allowed to have these moments.”

    Clarke blinked, surprised at how easily her mother seemed to read her. “It’s not—Lexa’s just…” She faltered, looking for words that didn’t come. Finally, she settled on a small, sheepish smile. “She’s nice, that’s all.”

    Abby gave her a knowing look, squeezing her arm. “Nice is a good start.”

    From the kitchen, Jake called out, breaking the moment. “Don’t forget to bring this Lexa by the house sometime! I’d like to meet the woman who’s apparently got you rearranging your schedule for once.”

    Clarke groaned, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “Dad!” she protested, laughing despite herself.

    Jake appeared in the hallway, holding a dish towel. “What? It’s a big deal. The last time you rearranged your schedule was for that gallery launch in Polis, and even then, you planned it down to the minute!”

    Clarke shook her head, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “I’ll see you next Sunday,” she said, grabbing her bag.

    Jake grinned. “We’ll hold you to it. And don’t forget to bring more stories!”

    The drive back to Raven’s apartment was bathed in golden afternoon light, the kind that made Arkadia’s streets look softer and more welcoming. Clarke tapped her fingers lightly against the steering wheel, the rhythmic motion calming her nerves.

    Her thoughts meandered, drifting to the unexpected changes of the weekend. The kitten, now named Juno, had upended her Saturday with her tiny paws and curious nature. Clarke had been certain the chaos would derail her weekend entirely, sending her into a spiral of frustration. But it hadn’t.

    She thought back to her therapy sessions—hours spent learning how to recognize the warning signs of an impending meltdown, how to breathe through the overwhelming moments, how to reframe disruption as something manageable. The strategies had become second nature now, a lifeline she relied on when the world around her shifted too quickly.

    This time, though, something felt different. The kitten, with her paint-streaked paws, hadn’t just disrupted Clarke’s routine; she’d added something new to it. And then there was Lexa—composed, grounded, and entirely unexpected. Clarke’s lips quirked into a small smile. It was strange how quickly these new elements felt… welcome.

    By the time Clarke pulled into Raven’s driveway, she felt lighter than she had in weeks, the weight of her carefully constructed routine sitting more comfortably on her shoulders. She parked her car and stepped out, letting the brisk afternoon air wake her up further. The sun was beginning to dip, casting warm golden hues over the neighborhood.

    The scent of motor oil and metal was faintly detectable even from the driveway, a signature of Raven’s workshop. Clarke smiled to herself as she approached the door. She knocked twice before stepping inside, already hearing the sound of tools clattering against the workbench.

    Raven, dressed in her usual grease-streaked overalls, glanced up and grinned. "Look who’s here. You’re late, Griffin."

    Clarke rolled her eyes, leaning against the doorframe. "Traffic," she replied dryly, knowing full well there was no traffic in Arkadia on a Sunday.

    "Uh-huh," Raven said, smirking as she set down her wrench. "Or maybe you just didn’t want to leave your mom’s homemade apple pie."

    "Can you blame me?" Clarke shot back, stepping further into the workshop. Her eyes scanned the space for any sign of Juno.

    "Where’s my troublemaker?"

    Raven gestured toward the corner of the room where a makeshift pen had been set up using an old tool cart and some spare planks. Juno was curled up on a blanket, her tiny form rising and falling with each breath.

    "She’s been surprisingly low maintenance," Raven said, wiping her hands on a rag. "Though she did try to chew on one of my wires earlier. Almost gave me a heart attack."

    Clarke raised an eyebrow. "You? Nervous about a kitten? That’s a first."

    "Hey, I like my equipment in working order," Raven retorted. She walked over to Juno, scooping the kitten up carefully, "But I’ll admit, she’s kinda cute. Here."

    Clarke took Juno from Raven, cradling the kitten against her chest. Juno let out a small meow before settling in, nuzzling against Clarke’s sweater.

    "You’re a little charmer, aren’t you?" Clarke murmured, her tone softening.

    Raven leaned against the workbench, crossing her arms. "So, you ready to handle her on your own, or should I start kitten-proofing your apartment too?"

    "I think I’ll manage," Clarke said, her lips twitching into a smile. "But thanks for the offer, Dr. Reyes."

    Raven snorted. "Don’t mention it. But seriously, how are you holding up? I know she’s throwing your whole routine into chaos."

    Clarke hesitated, running her fingers along Juno’s soft fur. "It’s… not as bad as I thought it would be," she admitted. "I mean, yeah, it’s different, and I’ve had to adjust, but it’s not—" She paused, searching for the right words. "It’s not the kind of change that feels overwhelming. It’s more like… a small, manageable disruption."

    Raven tilted her head, studying Clarke with an expression that was equal parts teasing and thoughtful. "Look at you, Griffin, embracing the chaos. Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me you’re actually enjoying it."

Clarke gave her a pointed look. "Don’t push it."

    "Uh-huh," Raven drawled. "And Lexa? How’s that fitting into your carefully structured world?"

At the mention of Lexa, Clarke’s cheeks flushed faintly. "What does that have to do with anything?"

    "Everything," Raven replied smugly. "Don’t think I didn’t notice how much you stole a glance at her last night."

    Clarke sighed but didn’t deny it. "She’s… nice, kind of unexpected, but in a good way. I don’t know, Raven, it’s just… different."

    "Different doesn’t have to be bad," Raven said, her voice softening slightly.

    Clarke nodded, a small smile forming. "Yeah. I think I’m starting to figure that out."

    With Juno safely tucked into her carrier and her heart feeling lighter, Clarke made her way back to the car. Raven followed her to the driveway, leaning against the car door as Clarke set Juno’s carrier on the passenger seat.

    "Don’t forget to send me pictures of her making a mess of your studio," Raven said, her grin returning.

    "I’ll make sure to tag you in every single one," Clarke replied dryly before stepping into the driver’s seat.

    As she pulled out of the driveway, Clarke glanced in the rearview mirror, catching Raven’s wave before focusing on the road ahead. With Juno’s soft mews filling the silence and the faintest trace of a smile still on her lips, she realized the small disruptions in her life weren’t just tolerable—they were beginning to feel a lot like joy.

---
    The air in Clarke’s studio smelled of turpentine and lavender, the comforting blend wrapping around her like a familiar embrace as she stepped inside, kitten carrier in hand.

    Juno meowed softly, her tiny voice cutting through the quiet. “Okay, okay, we’re here,” Clarke murmured, setting the carrier down and opening the latch. Juno bounded out, her little tail swishing excitedly as she explored the room.

    Clarke watched her for a moment, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’ve got your routine now, huh?” she said, crouching to scratch behind the kitten’s ears. “This is your space as much as mine now.”

    She moved through the studio with practiced ease, filling a small bowl with water and setting it down in the corner she’d cleared for Juno. As the kitten drank, Clarke settled into the rhythm of her space, adjusting brushes and lining up her paints.

    She glanced at Juno, now curled up on a blanket near the window, and smiled. The kitten’s presence was a reminder that sometimes, disruption could bring something new, something worth embracing.

---
    As the last rays of sunlight faded, Clarke stepped back from her painting, studying the strokes with a critical eye. It was unfinished, the edges rough and undefined, but there was potential there—something waiting to take shape.

    Juno stirred, stretching before curling tighter into her blanket. Clarke watched her for a moment, a quiet resolution forming in her chest. Maybe it was time to learn  holding less tightly to the safety of her routines. Maybe it was time to let something—or someone—new in.

    "Let's go home, Juno," Clarke picked the kitten up and put her into the carrier, then walked to the door. She looked at her meticulously arranged tools one last time, before locking the studio, and drove back to her apartment with Juno sleeping in her carrier.

    Clarke unlocked the door to her apartment, nudging it open with her shoulder as her hands balanced a small carrier containing Juno. The faint scent of lavender and cedar greeted her, a comforting combination from the diffuser she'd set up earlier that week. She placed the carrier on the floor and opened the latch. Juno peeked out cautiously, her bright green eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.

    Clarke crouched down, her voice soft and encouraging. "Come on, Juno. This is home now." She held her breath for a moment, watching the kitten take its first tentative steps out of the carrier.

    The apartment was a reflection of Clarke’s mind—tidy, practical, and sprinkled with touches of her artistic flair. The walls were painted in soothing earth tones, broken up by framed sketches and abstract art pieces she’d created over the years. A bookshelf lined one wall, meticulously organized by subject and color. The furniture was minimal yet cozy: a plush gray sofa with a knitted throw draped over one arm, a wooden coffee table with slightly worn edges, and a single armchair tucked into a reading nook by the window.

    Juno padded across the hardwood floor, sniffing the edge of the rug under the coffee table. Clarke smiled, feeling a small pang of unease at the thought of incorporating such an unpredictable little creature into her structured life. But she’d made it this far with only a few hiccups, and Juno seemed content.

    Clarke set her bag down by the door and slipped off her shoes, placing them neatly on the rack. She grabbed her checklist from the kitchen counter, a habit her therapist encouraged to keep her routines manageable.

    "Feed Juno, check," she muttered to herself, heading to the kitchen. She retrieved a small bowl and filled it with the kitten food she’d bought last night with Raven. Setting it down near the corner of the kitchen, she knelt beside it and gently nudged Juno toward the bowl.

    Juno hesitated, then took a tentative bite. Clarke couldn’t help but grin. "Good girl," she whispered, feeling a flicker of pride.

    With Juno settled, Clarke moved to prepare her own dinner—a simple salad and a piece of grilled chicken. As she chopped vegetables, she kept one eye on the kitten, who had finished eating and was now exploring the apartment with cautious curiosity.

    After dinner, Clarke settled on the sofa with a sketchpad. Juno had discovered the knitted throw and promptly curled into a tiny ball on it. The sight made Clarke pause, a soft warmth blooming in her chest. She hadn’t planned for this—hadn’t planned for any of it—but seeing the little creature so at ease in her home was strangely satisfying.

    She sketched absentmindedly, her pencil moving across the page as her thoughts drifted. The events of the weekend replayed in her mind: Lexa’s calm, steady presence, the way she had so effortlessly fit into Clarke’s chaotic day, and the small, fluttering feeling that lingered in her chest every time she thought about her.

    By 9:00 PM, Clarke started winding down for the evening. She turned off the main lights, leaving only the warm glow of a floor lamp in the corner. Her evening routine now included Juno, and it felt... okay. She set up a small bed for the kitten in the reading nook, adding a blanket for extra comfort.

    "Here you go, little one," Clarke said softly, scooping Juno up from the couch and placing her on the blanket. Juno meowed in protest but quickly nestled in.

    Clarke moved to her bedroom, brushing her teeth and washing her face. As she got into bed, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. This wasn’t the disruption she’d feared—it was manageable, even pleasant.

    As Clarke lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, she reflected on how Juno and Lexa, in their own ways, had begun to crack open the rigid walls of her routines. It was terrifying, yes, but also freeing.

    For the first time in a long while, Clarke let herself smile at the uncertainty. Maybe change wasn’t so bad after all.

    The next day, a faint sound of scratching broke through the haze of Clarke’s dream, dragging her back to reality. Her eyes fluttered open, groggy and disoriented, as the soft but persistent meowing grew louder.

    Clarke groaned, rolling onto her side to check the time on her phone. 6:25 AM. A full 35 minutes before her alarm was set to go off.

    “Juno…” she muttered into the pillow, voice muffled and tinged with annoyance.

    The scratching continued. Reluctantly, Clarke threw back the covers, the chilly morning air brushing against her skin as she shuffled toward the door. When she opened it, she was met with the sight of Juno sitting upright, her tiny tail flicking impatiently, her wide green eyes looking up at Clarke as if to say, It’s about time.

    Clarke sighed, the irritation melting almost instantly. “Alright, I’m up. Happy now?” She bent down to scoop up the kitten, who let out an excited chirp in response. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she murmured, planting a quick kiss on the top of Juno’s head.

    Clarke carried Juno into the kitchen, setting her down near the small food and water bowls she’d arranged in a corner. Grabbing a pouch of kitten powdered milk from the counter, she crouched to pour it into the dish, added some water and stirred it, careful not to spill. Juno immediately drank, tail swishing with an eagerness that made Clarke chuckle.

    “Hungry, huh?” Clarke mused aloud, leaning back on her heels to watch. She found herself oddly mesmerized by the tiny kitten’s enthusiasm, the way her small pink tongue darted out between bites. Clarke realized with a start that she didn’t mind this disruption to her usual routine. If anything, the simple act of caring for someone—something—else grounded her in a way she hadn’t expected.

    She made a mental note to swing by the pet store later. Juno would need more food soon, maybe some new toys too. Her gaze softened as she reached down to lightly scratch the kitten’s back. “You’re going to eat me out of house and home, aren’t you?”

    Juno, oblivious, simply purred in response.

    As Clarke moved to start her own morning routine, Juno decided it was time for chaos. The kitten darted around the apartment like a tiny whirlwind, paws skittering against the hardwood floors. Clarke tried to focus on making her coffee, the familiar ritual of grinding beans and pouring water helping her ease into the day.

    She was halfway through pressing the French press when a loud thud made her turn. Juno had leapt onto the small console table by the door, sending a precarious stack of mail tumbling to the floor. Clarke sighed, setting the press down with a clink and walking over.

    “What am I going to do with you?” she asked, kneeling to gather the scattered envelopes. Juno blinked at her innocently, tail flicking as she perched on the edge of the table. Clarke chuckled despite herself, shaking her head. “Nope, not a free pass. Stay off the table.”

    She gently picked Juno up, depositing her onto the floor. “Boundaries, kid,” she said firmly, though the smirk tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement.

    But Juno wasn’t done. As Clarke moved back to the kitchen, the kitten padded after her, eyeing the counter with barely concealed interest. Clarke caught her just as she prepared to leap and scooped her up mid-air. “Oh no, you don’t,” she said, holding Juno against her chest. “This? Off-limits.”

    The kitten squirmed for a moment before settling, her tiny body warm against Clarke’s. Clarke sighed, pressing a light kiss to the top of Juno’s head before setting her down again. “You’re going to keep me on my toes, aren’t you?”

    With Juno finally distracted by a loose bottle cap she’d discovered on the floor, Clarke returned to her coffee, pouring the dark liquid into her favorite mug. She took a long sip, savoring the quiet moment amidst the chaos.

    Her eyes drifted to Juno, now pawing determinedly at the bottle cap, and she felt a pang of something unfamiliar but welcome—a strange sense of contentment.

    Clarke leaned against the counter, her mug warm in her hands, and let out a slow breath. The morning had started earlier than planned, but somehow, it didn’t feel like a bad thing. Maybe, she mused, Juno was teaching her something she hadn’t realized she needed: how to let go of perfection, just a little.

    “Guess we’re figuring this out together,” she said softly, smiling as Juno batted the cap across the floor.

    For the first time in what felt like forever, Clarke wasn’t rushing through her routine. She wasn’t counting the minutes or mentally checking off tasks. She was just… here. Present. And maybe that was enough.
---
    Steam billowed from the bathroom as Clarke stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped snugly around her body. The sound of soft, insistent meowing greeted her as she padded into the bedroom to get dressed. Juno was sitting outside the door, tail flicking with exaggerated impatience, as if to say, What took you so long?

    Clarke sighed, rubbing her hair with the towel. “You’re a morning person, huh? Or morning… kitten.” Juno meowed in response, bounding after Clarke as she moved toward the kitchen.

    Breakfast had always been a quiet, methodical affair for Clarke—a moment to ground herself before the day began. She reached for the bread, popping two slices into the toaster. As she waited, she placed a small dish of catfood on the floor for Juno, who immediately dove in with unrestrained enthusiasm.

    While Juno ate, Clarke spread strawberry jam over her toast carefully and poured herself another mug of black coffee. She sat at the table, the simple comfort of the routine calming her nerves. But the peace was short-lived. Juno, having finished her meal, turned her attention to Clarke, pawing at the hem of her robe and making soft chirping noises.

    “Hey, let me eat in peace, will you?” Clarke asked, taking a bite of her toast.

    The kitten didn’t relent, attempting to climb her leg with tiny, determined claws. Clarke sighed, carefully lifting Juno off and placing her back on the floor.

    “No claws, remember?” she said, her voice gently firm. She felt a flicker of irritation—a reminder of how these interruptions pushed against her need for order—but it faded as quickly as it had come. Juno blinked up at her innocently, her wide green eyes brimming with curiosity.

    Clarke shook her head, smiling faintly. “You’re impossible,” she murmured, reaching down to scratch behind Juno’s ears before finishing her breakfast.

    After breakfast, Clarke moved to her small work corner near the living room, where she kept a neatly organized small pile of art supplies. Today’s agenda included both painting at the studio and some gallery management tasks, so she gathered her essentials: a set of sketchpads, a tin of paints, and her laptop.

    Juno trailed after her, sitting by the front door as Clarke slipped the items into her tote bag. The kitten’s small presence was a surprising comfort, but as Clarke glanced at her, sitting so primly, she felt a tug of guilt.

    “You’re really going to sit there and make me feel bad for leaving, aren’t you?” she asked, crouching down to scratch behind Juno’s ears. The kitten purred, leaning into her touch, and Clarke sighed.

    For a brief moment, she debated whether to bring Juno with her to the studio. She could imagine the kitten exploring the space, batting at paintbrushes and curling up on a pile of drop cloths. But the thought of potential chaos—and the safety risks—made her shake her head.

    “Sorry, kid. Not today,” Clarke said, standing and slinging the tote bag over her shoulder.

    Before leaving, Clarke took a moment to prepare the apartment for Juno. She’d spent part of the previous evening reading pet care articles, trying to anticipate the kitten’s needs. One tip had suggested leaving soothing music on to keep pets calm while their owners were away.

    She scrolled through her phone, settling on a playlist of soft piano melodies. As the first notes filled the apartment, Juno tilted her head, ears twitching curiously.

    “There. That’s not so bad, right?” Clarke asked, watching as the kitten settled onto the rug, seemingly content.

    She placed her coffee mug in the sink, glancing around the apartment to make sure everything was in order. The space felt different now—not just because of the scattered cat toys or the new food dishes by the kitchen. It felt alive in a way that it hadn’t before.

    Clarke’s routine had always been her anchor, a carefully constructed system to keep her life manageable. The addition of Juno had disrupted that balance, nudging her out of her comfort zone in a way that felt both challenging and… welcome.

    As she opened the door, Clarke turned back to look at Juno one last time. The kitten was sprawled out on the rug, one paw batting lazily at a stray bottle cap.

    “Be good, okay?” Clarke said softly, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

    She closed the door behind her, feeling the familiar weight of her routine settling on her shoulders. It wasn’t quite the same as before, but as Clarke stepped into the morning air, she realized it didn’t need to be.

    The bell above the studio door chimed softly as Clarke pushed it open, the familiar scent of paint, wood, and faint hints of turpentine washing over her. She paused in the doorway, taking a moment to absorb the stillness of the space. Her gallery and studio were more than just a workplace—they were an extension of her soul, a place where her thoughts and emotions transformed into something tangible.

    But this morning, it felt just a little… emptier. The absence of Juno’s tiny, chaotic presence was more noticeable than Clarke expected. She chuckled softly, shaking her head as she locked the door behind her. 

    “You’ve been here for two days, and I already miss you,” she muttered to herself, imagining the kitten darting between easels or curling up on a paint-splattered drop cloth.

    The space was bathed in soft morning light filtering through the tall windows, casting golden rays across the polished wooden floors. Clarke moved methodically through her opening routine: flipping on the lights, checking the thermostat, and placing her tote bag on the counter in the back.

    Clarke settled behind her desk in the gallery’s small office nook, her laptop screen glowing to life. The first hour passed in a steady rhythm of emails and logistics. She scanned through art supply orders, meticulously updating her inventory and making notes for her assistant about upcoming deliveries. Every now and then, she sipped at the now lukewarm remains of her black coffee, her focus unwavering despite the lingering sense of quiet around her.

    As the administrative tasks dwindled, Clarke leaned back in her chair, letting out a deep breath. Her gaze drifted to the main studio space, where unfinished canvases leaned against the walls and paint-streaked palettes waited patiently for her attention.

    Sliding off her chair, she moved toward one of the larger easels, where a blank canvas stood like an invitation. Picking up a brush, Clarke dipped it into a jar of deep blue paint, the color rich and velvety as it clung to the bristles. With the first stroke, her mind quieted, the familiar flow of creativity taking over.

    Yet, as much as she tried to lose herself in her work, her thoughts wandered. The rhythmic swipe of the brush against the canvas mirrored the tempo of her own internal musings: brief flickers of Juno's playful antics, the image of the kitten sprawled on her rug this morning, and the soft purring that had started to become a comforting soundtrack to her evening.

    Nearing her lunch break time, Clarke cleaned her brushes and straightened the studio space, her movements unhurried. She thought about how the past few days had unfolded—unexpected, messy, and oddly exhilarating.

    The soft chime of her phone broke her reverie. Wiping her hands on her apron, she glanced at the screen. A text from Raven.

    Raven: Did you bring Juno with you?

    Clarke: And risk another signature on my painting? No, thank you.

    Raven: Bet you miss her already.

Clarke hummed, typing back quickly. 

    Clarke: You were right. I’m officially attached.

    She set the phone down and glanced at the canvas again. The swirling blues and greens seemed to reflect her own shifting emotions—calm waters disrupted by something deeper, something new.

    As she turned off the lights in the studio to break for lunch, Clarke felt a sense of quiet anticipation settle over her. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t just following her routine. She was letting life surprise her, one small change at a time.

    Clarke strolled into her favorite café, the familiar hum of chatter and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. It was a small, unassuming place tucked between the busier streets of Arkadia, and it had become her go-to for a midday escape. She claimed a quiet corner table, slipping her bag onto the seat beside her, and began scanning the menu.

    Just as she was debating between her usual turkey avocado sandwich and something new, movement near the entrance caught her eye. Lexa. She was stepping out of the café, a steaming coffee cup in one hand and a small brown bag in the other.

    For a moment, Clarke hesitated, unsure if she should interrupt, they had only met once after all. And she usually ate her lunch alone. Would she be okay with another change in her routine just after what happenned in the last two days?

    But before she could overthink it, she called out, “Lexa!”

    Lexa turned, her expression shifting from mild surprise to a warm, genuine smile. Her sharp features softened as she approached, tilting her head slightly. “Clarke,” she greeted, her voice a mixture of curiosity and delight.

    Clarke gestured to the empty seat across from her. “Heading somewhere, or do you have time to join me?”

    Lexa hesitated briefly, her gaze flicking to the table before settling on Clarke’s inviting smile. “I could spare a few minutes,” she said, placing her coffee and bag on the table and slipping into the chair.

---

    “So,” Clarke started, folding her menu and leaning back slightly, “what brings you here?”

    Lexa took a sip of her coffee before answering. “Meetings. Lots of them. This was my little break in between.” She gestured to the brown bag. “Figured I’d grab something quick and keep moving.”

    Clarke nodded. “Busy morning, then?”

    “You could say that. A couple of projects are overlapping right now.” Lexa’s tone was casual, but there was an undercurrent of exhaustion in her voice.

    “What about you?” Lexa asked, her eyes keen as she studied Clarke. “You look like you’ve had a good morning.”

    Clarke chuckled, her gaze dropping momentarily. “It’s been a surprisingly nice couple of days, actually. Even had a new roommate move in recently.”

    Lexa raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A roommate? I wouldn’t have guessed you’d share your space easily.”

    Clarke smirked, playing along. “Yeah, it’s been an adjustment, but I think we’re settling in.”

    Lexa leaned forward slightly, her curiosity evident. “What’s their name?”

    “Juno,” Clarke said simply, keeping her tone deliberately neutral.

    Lexa nodded thoughtfully, her expression shifting to something Clarke couldn’t quite read. “Juno. Sounds... like a handful.”

    Clarke grinned, unable to hold back a laugh. “Oh, you have no idea.”

    There was a teasing edge to Lexa’s smile as she leaned back in her chair. “Well, good luck with Juno. Roommates can be... unpredictable.”

    Clarke bit her lip, suppressing the urge to clarify. She wasn’t sure why she enjoyed letting Lexa’s assumption hang in the air, but there was something entertaining about it.

---

    Their conversation flowed easily after that, touching on lighter topics. About Clarke being an artist, Lexa's favorite spot in the city . Lexa mentioned a local shop she’d passed on her way to a meeting—a place that sold unique home goods and art supplies.

    “You might find something interesting there,” Lexa suggested. “Your mention of being an artist reminded me about that place.”

    Clarke tilted her head, intrigued. “What’s it called?”

    Lexa frowned slightly, as if trying to recall the name. “I think it’s... Hollow Oak? It’s not far from here.”

    “Sounds like my kind of place,” Clarke said, her smile widening.

    Lexa pulled her phone from her pocket and slid it across the table. “Here, I’ll send you the address. Put your number in while you’re at it.”

    Clarke hesitated for just a beat before picking up the phone. She quickly typed in her number, adding herself to Lexa’s contacts. There was something unexpectedly thrilling about the exchange, a subtle buzz of excitement that lingered even as she slid the phone back across the table.

---
    Lexa glanced at the time on her watch and sighed softly. “I should get going. Meetings don’t wait.” She stood, grabbing her coffee and bag, but paused to flash Clarke a teasing grin. “Tell Juno I said hi.”

    Clarke bit back a laugh, nodding. “I’ll be sure to pass that along.”

    As Lexa walked away, Clarke watched her go, a faint smile playing on her lips. There was a quiet anticipation building in her chest, a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

    Shaking her head, Clarke turned back to her table, suddenly realizing her food had arrived. As she took her first bite, she found herself already looking forward to their next encounter, curious to see where this small but growing connection might lead.