Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Raindrops drum steadily as they crash on the window stool. Since the weather took a turn last week, it's all been gloomy days and chilling temperatures. Lexa was stubborn as ever, refusing to unpack her warm clothes for the whole time. But today, even she had to admit defeat and bundle up in her cozy dark green cardigan. She is staring out of the window, basking in a rare moment of stillness among the hustle and bustle of the recent weeks.

"Miss Woods." A voice breaks the silence of a classroom. "What are you doing tomorrow after school?" It belongs to Madi, a black-haired girl who doesn't know how to sit still.

"I don't believe this information will help you with your essay," Lexa says, as she turns to her class.

"Oh, I'm already finished with that." She comes up to the teacher's desk and hands in her paper. "Miss Griffin is painting some decorations for the play tomorrow. I was wondering if you are going to help her?"

"Oh, no, Madi." She lets out a quiet laugh. "I don't think Miss Griffin would want me anywhere near a paintbrush. But I'm sure she will have enough helping hands."

Lexa plus paint would definitely equal a disaster. She isn't completely useless. Give her a task arranged like paint-by-numbers and she'll be fine. Any creative liberties, though, or God forbid gradients and complex shades? Yeah, no one should be subjected to staring at her 'work' for two hours straight.

"And do you know when we can practice with the decorations?" Madi isn't relenting.

"I'm not sure."

"Well, can you text Miss Griffin? Do you know her number?" There is something strange in her voice that Lexa just can't quite place.

"How about that, I will go and ask her after the class, and now we're going to keep quiet and give everyone a chance to work on their writing?"

The girl nods, but the gleam is still playing in her eyes. Weird. But Lexa doesn't dwell on it much. Being a teacher stole her ability to be fazed by strange lines of questioning. 

She sits back in her chair and mentally goes over her to-do list for the day. Two more classes. Then scoring a bunch of homework. Then the rehearsals. They've been working on it for three weeks, and already there have been two major freak-outs and a particularly nasty case of the stomach flu. Though she enjoys production as much as teaching, sometimes she wishes for the ability to swap it with some teenagers-free work duties.  The bell rings and Lexa's grateful for the lunch break. She's been craving her caffeine fix pretty much since she finished the first cup.

"Okay. Let's go again from the top and try to make it at least ten percent more lively. And let's do our best not to trip and fall, shall we?" She throws a glance to check on Artigas who is pressing an ice-pack to his ankle.

This is going to be her doom, Lexa is sure of it. Today's five tries haven't made any significant difference at all. Neither have yesterday's tries. Or the day's before that. It seems that the lack of sun killed her student's ability for their believable performance as much as their enthusiasm. Lexa can't say she blames them, if she never hears this particular line of dialog, it would be too soon.

It's upsetting because Lexa knows her students well, their talent, and their dedication. It breaks her heart a little to see the ever-growing despair with each bad day of rehearsals. She just isn't sure how to break free of the vicious cycle.

Her attention shifts to what's happening on the stage. She is surprised to see Aden, who is usually a poster child for an attentive student, look quite fidgety. Lexa noticed that he glanced at the clock at least four times in the last hour, which is strange because the boy is normally immersed in his acting.

"Aden, is everything alright?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Wood," the boy says. "I left my notebook in the art class and wanted to get it back. But the door was locked when I checked."

"I see," the teacher responds, she decides to put them all out of their misery for today. "Okay, I think we should wrap it up. I want you all to do the whole scene from the beginning and give it your best shot, while I'll try to retrieve your notebook, Aden. As soon as you're done, you are free to go."

"Thank you, Miss Woods. It's red with a Spider-Man sticker on it." Aden smiles in reply.

The hallway is quiet, most of the students have gone home already. When Lexa tries the door to the art classroom, she finds it open. There is no one inside, and she can easily spot Aden's notebook lying on one of the windowsills. Though the classroom is on the same side of the building as her one, she has always been puzzled to find how much lighter it seemed. Maybe it's the white walls, or various artwork decorating most of them. There is barely any free space left, the cupboard bursting with miniature easels and clay figurines as well. Even the plant pots were made by the students. Today's lesson must have been about still-life because there still is a colorful vase with sunflowers on a small table in the middle of a circle of chairs.    

Lexa grabs Aden's notepad and moves to exit the room. When she comes to the door, she is surprised to find it locked. She tries the handle again as if hoping for a different result, but it doesn't come. She pats the back pocket of her jeans in search of her phone, horrified to realize that she'd left it with all her stuff in the auditorium. Fantastic. Now she is stuck here for the foreseeable future. Well, or at least, until Aden wishes to get his property back and go home.

There is nothing to do but wait, so she's perusing the room looking for some entertainment. There's a book on the teacher's desk, The Letters of Vincent Van Gogh. Lexa doesn't think Miss Griffin would terribly mind if she borrowed it for a bit. Unexpectedly, she is so engrossed in reading that she startles when fifteen minutes later the door opens.

In comes a blond teacher, cradling a box overflowing with art supplies. The look on her face and her posture reveal that she's struggling. Lexa moves to help her put the heavy thing on the desk.

"Thank you." Miss Griffin smiles. "Is there any particular reason you locked yourself in my class, Miss Woods?"

"Aden forgot his notebook after class, and I came to get it. But the door got jammed, and I left my phone at the rehearsal, so I kinda got trapped in here. Took your book to pass the time, sorry."

"Oh, don't worry about it, you can give it back to me when you're finished. And not to spoil your considerate gesture, but I saw Aden leave with a bunch of theater kids as I was walking into the school."

"Great," Lexa huffs.

Did he forget to wait for her? That seems odd. The weather must really be messing up kids' brains pretty badly this week.

"Well, as I am already here. Madi wanted me to ask when the decorations for the first act will be ready. And she suggested that I help you with them."

"Oh, thank you, but there's no need," replies the teacher. "We will paint them today and everything should dry up nicely during the weekends. They will be all yours by Monday."

"That's what I told her," Lexa chuckles. "Not much of an artist."

"You're quite good with your words." Miss Griffin grins.

"Well, thank you," the brunette grins back. "Alright, as you have saved me from imminent death by starvation, I must get going. There's a literal mountain of papers to grade on my desk. Thank you again, Miss Griffin."

"You are very welcome, Miss Woods."

Chapter Text

School theater production will be the death of her, no doubt. She can clearly envision it, written on her tombstone - killed by Into the Woods. How ironic. Her whole night was spent dreaming about kids tripping over their words and their limbs. Now she is staring at the monthly report, the words on the page making zero sense to her. Tragically, coffee doesn't help at all. She all but drowned herself in it today. One more cup and her heart is in danger of jumping out of her chest. And she doesn't really have any free slots to pencil in a cardiologist.

There is a knock at her door which jolts her out of wallowing. "Come in."

"Hi." Miss Vie, their newest hire, pops her head in. "I didn't mean to bother you."

"Oh, it's alright. What can I do for you?" Lexa makes a point of being friendly to the younger colleague. She remembers what it's like, to be so fresh out of college, wide-eyed and enthusiastic. But also terrified and exhausted at times.

"Well, I was wondering if I could pick your brain about the upcoming parent-teacher conference. We can discuss it during lunch. If you are free, of course."

Lunch. She can do lunch. The report can wait. Her brain isn't functioning properly anyways.

"Sure. Let me just grab my pass." Lexa replies.

When they sit at the teacher's table, her growling stomach reminds her that eating is an essential part of surviving, and coffee doesn't count as food. Waiting for Miss Vie, she looks around the cafeteria. Her theater troupe is sitting two tables away, and when her eyes meet one of the students', he says something, not so subtly nodding his head towards her, and the whole table erupts into giggles.  Teens are bizarre creatures, honestly. A head of blonde waves flickers in her peripheral vision, and Miss Griffins takes a seat a couple of chairs to her left. Another wave of giggles. She doesn't get to speculate on what that was about, because a moment later Miss Vie sits beside her.

"Alright, so I have a couple of questions about discussing performance," she says.

"Ask away," Lexa replies, starting to pick at her salad.

An hour later, comes time for the rehearsal. As she is mourning the loss of her caffeine intake, the students are slowly piling it. Today things are going marginally better. Maybe the curse of the weather is finally starting to break after the weekend's rest. There are a lot fewer forgotten lines, less commentary required and thank God zero accidents so far. Though it looks like Artigas's ankle hasn't completely recovered yet because he moves around the stage with a slight limp.

Their much-improved vigor allows them to go through the scenes almost twice as fast as they did last week. So Lexa decided to go for some positive reinforcement and let everyone go a bit earlier. A couple of kids stay to help with the clean-up of costumes and stray props. She is walking along the stage, picking up left copies of the script and observing newly placed decorations. The art team truly did an amazing job. She's learnt enough about painting to know that achieving such smooth transitions between colors took a lot of precise effort. The colors are vibrant and rich, the scene is carrying a layer of detail not obvious at first glance, yet building up to a vivid picture evoking her memories of countless hours spent in a forest. Lexa's eyes dart around exploring.

"Do you like Van Gogh, Miss Woods?" asks Aden, appearing in front of the stage seemingly out of nowhere.

"What?" Lexa asks back confused, though by now she is used to her students asking the most random questions ever.

"Van Gogh, the painter. We were studying him in class. He's Miss Griffin's favorite artist. Did you know that he had epilepsy, just like Nyko does?"

"I certainly did not. But to answer your questions, yes, I like his work." Coincidentally, Lexa's level of appreciation has recently been increased by the book she is reading.

"You should tell Miss Griffin. That you like it." Aden smiles at her mischievously.

"Okay." The short response is kinda dragging, because she has no clue where this conversation is going.

Evidently, it's going nowhere, because the next moment Madi comes into her line of sight sobbing. Lexa is immediately on high alert.

"What happened?"

"Miss Woods." The girl sniffs. "I think I lost my skirt."

Okay. Lexa really didn't need the additional adrenaline that now is coursing through her body.

"Have you searched the closet? I put it there last week."  

"It's not there, I checked," Madi replies, still clearly upset.

"That's okay, I will go through the costumes again, and you go home and look for it there. Don't worry, even if we can't find it, we'll get you a new one. No need to cry, Madi." Lexa pats the girl softly on the back while she's giving her a hug.

After the pair is gone and the mess has been dealt with, Lexa goes on a mission to find the missing piece of the costume. As she steps into the small dimly lit closet, ready to rummage through the endless sea of fabrics, she is surprised to see she isn't the only one in there.

"What are you doing in here?" she asks.

"What are you doing in here?" Comes a similarly intoned reply from a blond woman.

"Looking for Madi's skirt."

"Looking for Artigas's jacket."

Okay, the situation has officially been promoted from strange to suspicious. The tiny gears in Lexa's head are coming alive with thought.

"Have you found it?" she wonders.

"No, I can barely see anything in here. Have you?"

"No. And don't look at me like that." the brunette puffs. "It's not like I haven't asked maintenance to fix the lights. Because I did. Twice." Her tone is colored by annoyance. "Murphy just hates me."

"Well, whose fault is that?"

"Clearly not mine."

"Clearly."

"I don't think we can find anything in this darkness," says Lexa.

"Agreed. Let's get out of here before something crawls out of one of these boxes."

When Lexa reaches for the doorknob, however, it doesn't budge.

"The door is locked."

"What? What do you mean locked?"

While the blonde goes to try the door herself, puzzle pieces are rapidly matching together in Lexa's head.

"These little meddling shits," she murmurs.

"Lexa!"

"What? It's not like they can hear us. And they absolutely are. They locked us in here on purpose! I think they're trying to bring us together or something."

Suggesting to help Miss Griffin, the question about texting her, being locked in the classroom, the Van Gogh thing. Clear as day, come to think about it. Lexa wants to slap herself on the forehead for not noticing it sooner. No wonder the increased amount of giggles and weird glances flying her way lately.

The blond girl snorts at the idea.

"It's not funny!" Lexa insists, disgruntled.

"Oh, I don't know. I think it's rather amusing." Clarke is smirking. "No one has ever tried to fix me up with my own wife before."

Chapter Text

"Oh my God!" Raven's been cracking up for the last five minutes and is showing no intention of stopping. "That is fucking hilarious!" She is practically wheezing at this point.

It's a game night, six of them have been getting together every weekend or so ever since college. Anya whines sometimes that they aren't kids anymore to play, but everyone knows it's just for a show, because you may never catch her saying it out loud, but she loves everyone here. Well, that, and she'd never pass on a chance to parade her vicious competitiveness. Once, she and Octavia have been moments away from resolving a draw with an actual fistfight.  

It's her and Clarke's turn to host, so they're lounging on the bright yellow couches in their living room. The weather settled over the week, now the room is cast in the soft orange glow of the sunset. Clarke, as usual, went slightly overboard with the food, the coffee table currently overflowing with four types of charcuterie boards. Her wife's legs are in her lap, while Lexa is dealing cards.

"Of course, you would say that. This scheme pretty much sounds as if it was pulled out of your playbook."

"How long did it take you guys to get out?" asks Octavia, coming from the kitchen and carrying a gigantic bowl of cheese popcorn. Lincoln is trailing behind with their drinks.

"Not that long," Clarke responds. "Thankfully, we at least had our phones with us this time."

"I can't imagine the look on Gustus's face," Lincoln laughs, flopping onto the couch.

"Actually, he was out, and we had to call Indra," says Lexa. "And you know she doesn't care what's going on unless somebody is dead or close to getting there. So, I'd characterize her expression as unamused."

Everyone picks their cards and analyzes them silently. It may look like fun and games for an outsider, some quality time among friends. But nobody is fooled at this point. This right here is a brutal battleground filled with six calculating savages. Well, okay, five. Linc is a big softy, obviously.

"Have they done anything since the closet?" asks Anya, making her first move.

"Nah, the coast has been clear since Monday," says Lexa. "Too clear if you ask me, like quiet before the storm. I think they know we are on to them and are going to change tactics."

"It's inconvenient. Now I have to constantly be vigilant not get trapped anywhere alone with Lexa."

"Why?" Raven raises an eyebrow. "Afraid your smoking hot wife will do naughty things to you in a dark corner?"

"Oh my God, Raven!" Clarke gasps indignantly. "It's a school. There are children everywhere!"

"So?"

Clarke's cheeks flush bright pink, as she looks at Lexa. It takes a lot to bite back her laughter.

"Get back to annoying your own wife, please," she says, making a shooing motion with the hand holding her cards, snaking another one around the blonde to pull her closer.

"You are no fun." Raven protests, but turns to Anya with a wink, getting an eye roll in response.

Nobody is speaking for a moment while a round of cards is being passed.

"Octavia, you are out."

"Has no one told you all to be gentle to a pregnant lady?"

"Yeah," retorts Anya. "Not when she's a heathen trying to steal all our money."

"Fine," Octavia huffs. "But I'm raiding the snack cabinet." She wobbles a bit, trying to get up from the couch, and Lincoln gives her a light push.

"Don't get me wrong, it's the best story I've heard all month. But aren't you going to tell them to stop?" he asks.

"It's not like we are hiding anything, really." Lexa disentangles her hand to get a gulp of her cider. "Little matchmakers didn't even check if we are single."

"Yeah, we just have our tattoos instead of the rings." Clarke's fingers go to trace over her wife's arm, where the marriage sign is hidden beneath the fabric of her long sleeve. Lexa knows she is quite proud of it, having come up with the designs herself. The tattoos are shaped like a rhombus, Lexa's has trees drawn in a lower half, Clarke's is a picture of a cloudy sky above it. Matched up together, they create a scene to commemorate their first meeting on a forest hike.

"And we keep it professional while at the school."

"Do you think you'll get into trouble with the board if you tell them?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that. When he hired us, Kane said that we are free to do whatever," Clarke replies.

They truly didn't intend to keep their marriage a secret. Five years ago, just out of college, they came back from a honeymoon trip all over Europe to a new home, a new job, a shining new life, basically. Polis isn't a huge city, but they'd been very lucky to find a great school with two openings suiting their positions. Even the classrooms were nearby. Lexa thought that having two Mrs. Griffin-Woods could potentially be confusing for the students and faculty, so they stuck with their maiden names.

"To be honest, I'm slightly curious about what they are going to mastermind next," says Clarke.

"Well, I am definitely not. Getting kinda tired of my brushes with death by entrapment."  

"Oh God, so dramatic," her sister scoffs. "I'm with Blondie on this one. Pretend to be clueless, follow their next lead, and then when they aren't expecting anything... Boom!" She claps her hands for the theatrics. "Catch them red-handed and scare them away from doing this kind of shit forever." Anya's eyes are gleaming with playfulness. Alongside her, Raven is nodding enthusiastically as if her sister's troublemaking needs any more encouragement. Clear evidence of why they work together so well.

"Again," Clarke sighs. "I feel the need to remind some of us that they are literal adolescents, only innocently trying to bring two of their teachers together. We are not going to scar them for life."

"Yeah, babe. You were right," Anya complains to Raven, getting a little pat on her back in consolation. "They are no fun."

"I would suggest telling them something ridiculous, like that Lexa has the hots for the principal or whatever. But anyone with eyes can see that the girl is as straight as a rainbow," says Raven.

Everyone giggles at that, and Lexa's glare does nothing to stop it. Whatever.

"I think. " Octavia returns, munching on a cheese pretzel. She sinks into the couch curling herself into her husband's side. "You should let it play out and then announce that you were so overcome with feelings for each other that you professed your undying love and pulled a Vegas wedding over the weekend."

"Though we are very grateful for the well of ideas," says Lexa, sarcasm pouring out of her words. "I simply want to finish with the play without any major disasters and hopefully, by the time we are back from the break, they'll have forgotten all about their plot."

"Somehow, I doubt that's what's going to happen," mutters Clarke.

And alas, she just had to be right. 

Chapter Text

A week passes, and it's finally the day of the big show. The air is crackling with nervous energy. People are scurrying everywhere. Shouts are buzzing in all directions. It's an absolute chaos, to put it mildly. And Lexa knows she has to be a beacon of tranquility amongst rising panic and the smell of hairspray.

She was having a hard time with the role during her first-ever show as a director. Nerves are contagious little buggers, and she was totally getting affected. Who was she to lead a whole group of students on her own? Her degree wasn't even in performing arts.

But Lexa used to be an anxious kid herself, Anya spent a lot of hours grounding and talking her down. It was a lot of grueling work until their teacher suggested joining the drama club, and miraculously the girl was taught to channel her worries into excitement. She could relate to her students well enough, to that wired-up feeling hijacking your body. Years brought her ability to tame it. And that knowledge meant that she could help them.

"Okay guys, let's gather here for a second." Lexa motions to everybody to come closer.

"Great. Now I want you to have a big inhale." She is looking around to catch slackers. "Come on, everybody together. In"

"And out." The collective whoosh of air is so long, that it has her worried for a second of someone passing out. "Don't overdo it, guys."

"I know how hard each of you has worked over the last month. And whatever happens, I'm proud of you. Though I'm sure you'll do great. You won't really be able to see anything because of the spotlights. So imagine that it's just another rehearsal visited by a couple of friends, okay?" There is a chorus of approving hums. "Just please don't fall off the stage again." And now the room is filled with giggles.

"Okay, we have an hour left, so please check your costumes and your props. Don't forget that there are copies of scripts lying backstage pretty much everywhere. And if you need me—"

"Sorry, Miss Woods. But I can't get the lights to work." Comes up Tris who is responsible for decorations.

Some students throw Lexa panicked looks. "I'll come look at them in a moment, you check the backdrop." She puts on her best reassuring smile and looks at the troupe again. "As I was saying, if you need me during the performance, I'll be on the B side. Now go get ready."

The teacher follows Tris' path backstage to the tiny room hidden behind the curtains. Lexa tries to come in, but the door only creaks in protest. It's been giving everyone trouble since the beginning of the year. And it seems that maintenance still hasn't got their hands on it. She's totally going to kill Murphy. Lexa shoves harder, putting all her weight on it, and the hinges give way this time. The light panel looks like it belongs on a spaceship straight out of a cheap sci-fi movie with its completely unnecessary amount of rods and buttons. Luckily, she knows this dance well, so a couple of flicks of the wrist later another crisis is averted. When Lexa gets down from the stage, she's pleased to find things a lot calmer. She'd better take the last chance to soak some quiet time in before she assumes her duties as a watchful hawk behind the stage.

Thankfully, the play goes smoothly. Lexa is overjoyed and proud to see the beaming looks on her student's faces basking in ovations and cheers. Even the nervous kids did great, no one forgot their lines and all limbs are perfectly intact, so it is a major success in her books. When the clapping cools off a bit, the curtain goes down. And now everyone is ecstatic, exchanging crashing hugs still hyped on performance adrenaline.

"Guys, I'm so proud of you, you all did a fantastic job!" The students' eyes are sparkling with delight when they look at her. "Now, before we go and pump ourselves full of sugar, remember to handle your costumes and props with care. You have half an hour before the dinner."

As the crowd disperses laughing and chattering, Lexa starts the cleanup, no way she's staying after the festivities. The school has a tradition of organizing a feast for the crew after a performance, it's a huge affair, with tons of amazing food and colorful decorations. With all the exertion of the previous weeks, Lexa usually crashes after an hour, stuffed with baked goods.

Fifteen minutes later, she is done with one of the dressing rooms and is coming back to the auditorium, when Aden jogs up to her.

"Miss Woods!" His voice breathy from running. "Miss Griffin is in trouble!"

"Aden," Lexa sighs, exasperated. "We know what you've been trying to do, so you can drop the act, okay?"

"No, really, Miss Woods, we didn't do anything this time. I swear!"

Years of teaching made her quite a master at spotting lies on students' faces, and all she can read from Aden's right now is a genuine worry, and it's troubling.

"What happened to Miss Griffin?"

"She is stuck in the lights room. Madi went to call for Gustus," he replies impatiently.

Surely if Clarke was in distress, she would call her. But when Lexa goes to check her phone, it is dead. Damn it. She must have forgotten to charge it with all the excitement of the day.

"Okay, let's go." She is all but sprinting because if her wife is trapped alone in a confined space, they have a big problem.

A small group of students is gathered near the door, looking worried. Lexa can hear ragged breathing even a few steps away.

"Clarke?" She thrusts the door, but it doesn't budge this time.

"Lexa!" Her voice is filled with relief.

"Clarke, you are okay. Gustus is coming to get you out in a minute. I'm here, and you are okay." She moves to sit beside the door and tries to sound as soothing as possible. "Let's even your breathing, okay?"

"Yeah, I can do that." Clarke's voice is still shaken, but she manages to make some slow inhales and exhales.

"It's just like Barcelona, remember? When we got stuck in that tiny elevator."

"I still can't believe you persuaded me to go into that thing," Clarke quivers.

"Well, I wasn't going to go up a million flights of stairs. The important thing is that we were out and well."

"We were."

"And you'll be okay now, I promise. Just keep breathing, in and out." Lexa hopes Gustus is coming any moment now because the distractions don't usually work for too long, especially if they aren't in one room together.

The first time it happened was when an elevator in their first shitty apartment complex stopped halfway up. Lexa was pressing the buttons annoyed when she heard wheezing and turned to see Clarke, cheeks flushed, a panic written all over her face. Which in turn freaked Lexa out, and now they both were staring at each other on the verge of a breakdown. Only Clarke's pleading eyes brought her back to some semblance of calm. She somehow managed to talk her down, and blessedly they were going up again soon after. Talking, all in all, turned out to be as good a strategy as anything else.

"The set today was great. You guys outdid yourselves this time, the decorations in the third act were definitely my favorite. The colors—" Her excessive rambling is interrupted by heavy footsteps hurrying in their direction.

She glances behind her shoulder to see a tall bearded man carrying a tool kit. "Clarke, Gustus is here. He'll open the door in no time, continue breathing."

Lexa steps away to give him some space to work. She can almost hear time ticking in her head. A couple of minutes later the door springs open, and Clarke topples over, Lexa barely managing to catch her. She notices a couple of tears sliding down her cheeks and quickly wipes them away before getting her wife in a tight embrace. Lexa murmurs soft reassurances into the blond hair, trying to bring Clarke's heartbeat down. Her hands are moving in small circles on her back.

"So, how should we dispose of Murphy?"

The blonde gives a wet laugh but doesn't let go. Lexa continues to provide comfort as much as she can, with whispers and gentle hands. Clarke's melting into the hug, the tension slowly leaving her muscles. A while later, she detaches herself a bit and gives Lexa a little kiss. There is a myriad of cooing noises around them. The brunette has completely forgotten about the surrounding audience.

"Well, I guess the cat's out of the bag," Clarke chuckles, still nestled into Lexa's body.

"Yeah." She smiles back. "All things considered, looks like they actually managed to pull off a successful operation."