Chapter Text
Clarke hovers in the doorway of the kitchen, watching. Grace-May’s dimples are poking into her cheeks as she concentrates on the crust she and Lexa are draping into a pie tin. Her curly blonde hair is pulled into a little puff on top of her head, her bangs not quite reaching her bright blue eyes. Lexa’s hair is pulled back in the french braid she wears every day and she has that hint of work-weariness to her Clarke always wants to wipe away. But she smiles and encourages Grace-May as Grace-May uses a fork to finish the edges of the crust.
Grace-May is more than Clarke could have hoped for in a child. She has Clarke’s creativity and determination, Lexa’s intelligence and gentleness with people and animals, and her own sense of wonder and joy she brought with her.
When Clarke went back to work, she brought Grace-May with her, putting her crib in the sunny pie-making room. Grace-May slept most of the time, and Clarke could feed her whenever she needed. Clarke had often been glad for the distraction during her first few fumbling months as owner. By now, everything was working smoothly and the diner was as successful as ever. Grace-May always had someone to look after her; the waitresses were keen to take a break to tend to her, doting on her and showering her with gifts and kisses. Margie even made a miniature version of the diner uniform, and as soon as she was capable, Grace-May would walk from table to table with an order pad, pretending to take orders like her mother and her caretakers, charming all the customers.
Grace-May started preschool this year, and Clarke isn’t used to being away from her for so long. She’s always hurrying to get home in time to have dinner and give Grace-May her bath before bed. But tonight she takes a moment to just watch, remarking on how time has flown by.
Grace-May finishes marking the edges of the crust with the fork and wipes her hands on her apron. She sticks her pudgy finger in a pile of flour, then reaches up to press it onto Lexa’s nose. Lexa grins, then returns the gesture, tapping Grace-May’s little nose with white. Grace-May giggles, then puckers her lips, and Lexa leans down so Grace-May can kiss the flour off, then does the same.
It’s so choreographed and practiced, Clarke is certain they’ve done this before.
Clarke feels her heart swell. Her daughter and Lexa baking is the sweetest thing she’s ever seen.
“What are you making?” Clarke asks, making her presence known as she comes into the kitchen and sets down her purse.
Grace-May and Lexa look up, startled. Lexa runs her wrist over her nose, wiping away any leftover flour.
“Pie!” Grace-May says, as though it wasn’t obvious.
“Without me?” Clarke asks, feigning offense.
Grace-May’s smile falls and she looks up at Lexa to see if they overstepped.
“We were waiting for you to make the filling,” Lexa says.
Clarke lets her smile spring free again and Grace-May’s slides back in, still checking to make sure Clarke isn’t really upset.
Clarke walks around the counter and scoops her up, peppering her face with kisses, making them smack as Grace-May giggles and tries to twist away.
“What kind of filling shall we make?”
“Butterfly blueberry!” Grace-May says, making up something silly to see if she can make Clarke laugh.
Instead of laughing, Clarke says, “Oh good, I just picked up some fresh butterflies to put in.”
Grace-May’s eyes go wide in alarm before she feels the crooking of Clarke’s finger in her side, tickling her, letting her know she’s joking.
Grace-May lets out a shrieking giggle and twists so hard Clarke sets her down.
Clarke leans in to press her lips to Lexa’s cheek. Lexa turns her chin quickly to catch Clarke’s lips instead.
This kiss doesn’t have a borrowed flavor like whipped cream or toffee or cinnamon or coconut. This kiss is all its own: a coming-home kiss. Clarke’s favorite.
Grace-May climbs up on her stool again, impatient as Lexa asks how the diner was and Clarke asks how the office was. Soon Grace-May is demanding their assistance and they let the conversation rest for now. Together they get out ingredients, mixing them with a few pinches of spice as Grace-May tells Clarke about her day at school. When it’s done, Lexa picks up the bowl, ready to pour the filling into the crust, but Grace-May shrieks, “Wait! ”
Lexa pauses and Grace-May says, “You gotta put the love in first.”
“Oh-okay,” Lexa says, setting down the bowl. “Go ahead.”
“My thumbs aren’t big enough.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Clarke says. “The oven makes it grow to the perfect size.”
“You do it,” Grace-May insists.
Clarke nods at Lexa and waits for her to press one thumbprint in before she reaches over and presses hers nesting into it, completing the heart.
“You do one too,” Clarke says to Grace-May.
Grace-May contemplates for a moment before pressing her little thumb twice underneath Clarke and Lexa’s thumbprints, making a smaller heart.
“Now you can pour it in,” Grace-May instructs.
Lexa pours the filling in and slides the pie into the oven. They clean up and have dinner, and after giving Grace-May a bath and brushing teeth, Clarke puts her to bed.
After Grace-May is asleep, Clarke and Lexa cut a slice of pie and sit at the kitchen table.
Lexa almost chokes on her first bite. Clarke takes a bite and gags. The crust is way, way too salty. She wonders if Lexa turned away for a moment and Grace-May dumped salt in, thinking it was sugar.
Lexa wipes her mouth as her eyes water.
“That is the worst pie I’ve ever had,” she says.
Clarke chuckles, hushing her in case Grace-May is still awake.
“We can eat around the crust,” Clarke says. “It’s what’s inside that counts.”
Lexa holds her gaze, warm and suddenly serious. She seems to decide something and sets down her fork.
“You once told me no one had ever asked you to marry them over a slice of pie.”
Clarke feels her stomach tense with apprehensive joy.
Clarke looks down at Lexa’s hands where they rest empty on the table. There’s no ring or box, but she almost prefers it that way.
“I want to ask you. But only if you want to be asked.”
Clarke bites her lip, feeling a blush wash over her she hasn’t felt in a long time.
They’ve lived together for four years now, slowly combining their lives, though not without constant caution on Clarke’s part.
When Clarke went back to work, Lexa offered to lend Clarke money to buy a car to make her commute easier, but Clarke had refused, not wanting to exhaust Lexa’s generosity or indebt herself to Lexa further.
Clarke had balked when Lexa asked to make Grace-May the beneficiary of her estate on Grace-May’s first birthday, thinking it meant Lexa thought she had some familial claim to Grace-May. Lexa explained she only wanted to make sure Grace-May could go to college and travel the world if something should happen to Lexa. Nothing more.
After two years, Lexa had asked if Clarke wanted her name on the deed of the house, since Clarke had been helping with the mortgage, but Clarke had refused for a while, saying she wasn’t ready to own property together.
Whenever Clarke withdraws or backtracks, Lexa just nods and accepts it, waiting until Clarke is ready for a new step. Gradually Clarke has softened and learned to trust that Lexa truly wants nothing but good things for her and Grace-May.
After their first trip to Yellowstone together, she realized she wants her family to stay like this forever. She can’t do anything about Grace-May growing up - and she is growing up so quickly - but she can make sure Lexa knows she wants what they have to last.
Perhaps more importantly, she can show Lexa she’s willing to take the first step.
“I don’t want to be asked,” Clarke says.
She pauses a moment too long, and Lexa’s gaze falls to the table.
“I want to ask you,” Clarke adds.
Lexa blinks a few times, looking back up, then nods as tears collect along her lower lashes.
Clarke realizes Lexa’s been waiting a long time to ask. The expression on Lexa’s face indicates that being asked is even better than the Yes she was hoping for.
“I have one condition,” Clarke says.
“Okay,” Lexa says, hesitant.
“I want you to adopt Grace-May.”
Lexa shrinks back in surprise.
Clarke knows Lexa doesn’t actually object to the idea of adopting Grace-May. She’s just careful not to overstep, so careful to let Clarke feel in control. But seeing how sweet Lexa was with the pie crust earlier, Clarke knows it’s time.
Clarke says leaning forward to try to retrieve Lexa. “You always defer to me, saying you’re not her mom. I think you are her mom. But we don’t have to ask her to call you that. She can keep calling you Lexa if that’s what you want. ”
Lexa relaxes a little bit.
In Clarke’s mind there is no doubt that Lexa is Grace-May’s mother now. She wasn’t at first. She watched and encouraged Clarke for most of Grace-May’s first year. But Lexa grew into motherhood day by day, just as she and Clarke grew together. The three of them are a family, and marrying Lexa without a commitment to Grace-May feels like a lie of omission. They’ve forgiven each other their lies long ago, and Clarke doesn’t want new ones.
Grace-May brought Clarke to Lexa. Now it’s time for Clarke to give Lexa to Grace-May in return.
“I want to make sure that if something happened and I wasn’t there, you’d be able to protect her.”
Lexa’s forehead crinkles in a question.
“Imagine if you were here with her while I’m at work and she climbed up that tree she loves in the back yard. What if she fell and broke her little arm and had to wait until I got to the hospital because you can’t make medical decisions for her?”
Lexa looks uncomfortable at the thought.
“Or what if- what if something happened to me and she had to go live with-”
Clarke doesn’t finish her sentence. She doesn’t need to.
Lexa swallows and her gaze falls to the table. They both know they don’t want that to happen.
Lexa takes a breath and nods. “Okay.”
“Yes?”
“Yes. I would do anything for her.”
Clarke beams, her smile blooming wide in her chest.
She’s going to marry the woman she loves. The most important person in her world will legally have another mother. They’re a family.
“Marry me,” Clarke says.
“Of course,” Lexa answers back, tears brimming.
Clarke stands, drawing Lexa up and into her arms, laying every sweet, tender flavor of kiss she can think of on her lips.
Finally, she has the life she wants.