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coeurdastronaute · 7 years

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Essays in Existentialism: Movies

Jake was a romantic at heart and a huge fan of old b+w movies, and he and Clarke went to the old local movie theatre every Sunday to watch them. So when Jake dies, Clarke carries on the Sunday tradition alone...til, one Sunday, she meets Lexa.

The funeral was at 1pm.

At six-thirty, with no will left for the rest of the people that crowded in her house, the only daughter left the wake without a single word. Wondered straight out off of the porch with no real thought at all, not even missed by anyone in particular.

There were pictures being shown, albums opened and passed around to the extended family who mourned and cried and tried to laugh, though found it almost impossible with the circumstances. The house on the end of the street, the one with the stupid miniature windmill in the front, the one with the big porch and tool shed in the back that once was always open, but now had remained shut for months, that house was very alive despite the somber reality it would face soon enough. It was too alive, in all actuality. Too many people filling up too much quiet with too many words of too much sympathy.

But none of that mattered.

At six-thirty, Clarke couldn’t handle anything else. She didn’t want to hear anymore stories about what her father was like as a kid, or the pranks he played on coeds in college, or even how sweet he was with her when she was just a toddler. She didn’t want to tell anyone anything either, instead, electing to horde all of her father that she could to herself, afraid that once she spoke the words, he would disappear and not be her’s any longer. Now she was a daughter without a father, and she was making it up as she went.

Like clockwork, her body moved on its own routine. The car drove itself without her thinking, stopping at signs and signaling accordingly. It parked in a familiar lot. At one point, she was certain there was a song playing on the radio, but by the time she stopped, all that there was in the cab of the car was silence.

“One, please,” she swallowed and dug in her purse for money at the window.

“The Sunday feature isn’t until nine.”

“I know. I was just. I was hoping that...” she furrowed and tried to speak words, only realizing that she didn’t have any left at all in her for such things, and there was no where else she wanted to go on a Sunday.

“We’re not even really open,” the clerk at the window shifted nervously. All of sixteen and very unsure what to do for the woman in the nice black dress who was four hours early for a movie.

Clarke dug into the purse that was just for show, coming up with about three and a half mints and a tampon.

“Ma’am, I’m not sure I can sell you anything...”

“I know I have... I can figure it out.”

“Let me get my manager,” he squeaked. “Just give me a second.”

Clarke took very little notice of what was happening on the street, as nothing interested her more than getting into her regular seat in her regular theater and seeing whatever was appearing. She didn’t even care what the clerk was actually saying. She was on a mission.

“Listen, I just... I have to get in. I have to see this movie,” Clarke murmured, her chest inflating with the many breaths she was taking. “You don’t understand. I can’t go home. There are thirty people at my house, all looking at me with these sad eyes, and I’m not sure how, but my best friend is dead, who happened to be my dad, and I don’t know what I’m going to do tomorrow, but I know that I can shut off my brain for two hours and sit in the dark and forget. That’s all I want. I just want to forget. So please. Can I just hide here for a couple of hours?”

“Um.”

“Just. Give me a second. I’ll be quiet. I’ll just sit there. But I can’t go home. I can’t... Thirty people who just want to apologize,” she shook her head and swallowed. “I come here every week. I swear I do. I know everyone’s names, and they know me. My father brings me here. Brought me. Brought me here every Sunday since I was like ten.”

“Like I said, it’s only seven.”

“Excuse me,” a stranger asked, interrupting the match between the frantic woman and the pitiful attendant at the window. Both just stared back at the newest addition.

The old flannel shirt slid off of one shoulder, while a necklace hung long from her neck. Hair a mess of dark brown, tucked up with sunglasses fresh from the early sunny spring day, green eyes squinted and perused the situation carefully. Shorts showed off long tan legs while her hand fiddled with the edge of her shirt. All at once, she was both severe and soft, a delicate balance politely on the slope of her jaw and the angle of her nose.

Opposite of her, the woman on the verge of tough tears tilted her strong chin. Blonde hair in a neat bun, single gold chain around her neck. Black dress and heels. Every part of her was rigid at the moment. Every bit of her ached and wanted to say yes. Not two more different images could have been seen so closely juxtaposed.

“Um. Yeah,” she continued, not earning a response. “What’s playing?”

“I’m... I’m not sure,” Clarke’s brow wrinkled into peaks as she looked helplessly back at the attendant.

“Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy,” he offered.

“Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy,” Clarke repeated.

“I’ve never seen it,” she smiled. “Is it any good?”

“One of the best. Lot’s of mummy puns.”

“I do love a good pun. Could I have two tickets, please?” the stranger decided, tugging some money out of her pocket and counting it as she squinted at the sign behind the ticket booth.

“The movie doesn’t start until nine,” the teenager repeated once more. Sundays were the easy days. That’s what they told him when he swapped shifts. He could picture his coworkers laughing evilly in the distance at the idiot who took a Sunday.

“I don’t mind,” she shrugged, sliding the money through the gap in the glass.

To his credit, he debated it before giving up and deciding his wages and three hours of training didn’t prepare him for this situation.

“Thank you,” Clarke nodded. “I’ll pay you back.”

“No worries,” she smiled and held the door open. “I was just walking by and happened to be thinking about how much I wanted to see a movie.”

It was a lie, but Clarke didn’t have the wherewithal to imagine anything other than what was presented to her. So she nodded, as if it were the most reasonable answer to the situation. As if it made sense that a stranger happened upon her and bought her a ticket because she really did just want to watch a random movie.eeee

“I only caught a bit of that out there,” the stranger shrugged. “Sounds like you’re having a bad day.”

“I don’t know. I guess,” Clarke sighed. “Thanks again.”

Without any other indication, Clarke moved toward her seat in the theater, unable to keep up polite conversation. The stranger took it as enough of a sign, and nodded once again, electing to take a seat a few rows up and on the opposite side of the theater.

Quiet and calm, Clarke felt relief to be somewhere safe, somewhere time couldn’t touch, where nothing bad happened and where she didn’t have to think about the closed casket.

By the time the lights dimmed only a handful of other people filtered in. Clarke didn’t notice the occasional glance from the buyer of her ticket. Instead, she disappeared into the movie, and it was, perhaps, the best gift anyone could have given her on that terrible day.

It wasn’t as if there weren’t anything else to do on a Sunday night. About sixteen pages of papers needed to be written and a stack of books that never seemed to get smaller needed to be read, but still, Lexa found herself checking her watch and once again refreshing the website for the small theater on Main Street.

“Hey, where are you off to?” Anya called from down the hall as Lexa tugged on shoes by the door. With a heavy sigh, she made her way toward the kitchen.

Tall, and skinny, much like their mother, Anya was responsible and always so much older than her years. With a dish towel over her shoulder and hair flying away from cleaning, she was beautiful and clever and still a pain of an older sister.

“Hey! Not nice!” the three year old complained as her aunt stole a green bean from her plate. “Auntie Lexi stole my green bean!”

“Tattle tale,” she teased, kissing the brown hair.

“We’re working on asking nicely,” Anya reminded her little sister. “Now what do you say?” she said in that sing song way that haunted them from so many kids shows.

“I’m sorry,” she growled and made a face at her niece, earning a giggle.

“That’s okay. Do you want more?”

“No thank you.”

“So where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Out, out, you’re just going out?” Anya taunted, hands on her hips.

Four years separated them, and yet more than that. It flt longer that they were apart. When Anya left and then came back a few years later with a newborn, it bonded them. After their mother died, and Lexa moved in to pursue her degree and help. Now they were a tiny family. Now she was even older, even wiser.

“Out out out out,” the little girl echoed.

“Double-teamed, huh?” Lexa grinned. “I’m just going to go catch a movie.”

“Hmmm,” her sister hummed.

“Hmmm,” her daughter mimicked.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with the girl in the black dress from last week, does it?”

“OoohOOOhooh,” Lenny teased with a big smile.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” she moaned, putting her head down on the counter. “I don’t know anyone here outside of my classes. I just kind of want to go see a movie.”

“This has nothing to do with the pretty girl who didn’t even notice you?”

“Okay, alright,” Lexa shook her head and tossed her hair around. “On that note, I’m going. I’ll be home round eleven.”

“Or later if you’re lucky,” Anya teased.

“Night, Len,” she smiled and ruffled the hair of the toddler at the table. “I’ll see you later.”

It took a little more teasing before she made her way out to her car. Last week, it’d been pure luck that she was even downtown, choosing to usually forego drinks with people who described Kafka as one of their greatest motivations for studying literature. But her sister made her branch out.

There really was no reason to go back. She enjoyed the movie well enough, but maybe Anya was right, maybe it was to see if that stranger wit the sad eyes was going to be there again. All of which felt like a very weird thing to feel. After Costia, after Chicago, after all of it, Lexa didn’t think she’d ever be curious about someone else ever again.

If she didn’t see her, then none of it would matter and she could focus more on her paper that was stalled somewhere between analysis and absolute shit.

To her credit, she second guessed herself about thirteen times as she sat in the parking lot before she just gave in and went.

“Good evening,” a different attendant met her as she approached the window.

“Hi,” she breathed, shy and anxious.

“I’d like to have one, please. For the… Um, what’s it?”

“Fantastic Voyage,” he supplied.

“Yes. That,” Lexa nodded, sliding across her money.

It felt weird, to hold the ticket, but still, Lexa fiddled with it as she made her way inside, out of the lingering heat of the summer. Careful to not look around too much, but still trying to see everyone, she cautiously approached the theater.

By the time she took a seat, she was all nerves.

Nothing to worry about. No pretty girls in sight, she typed, using her phone as a crutch.

So you did go to see a pretty girl, Anya retorted.

No. Just proving you wrong. I came for some good, quality cinema.

Lenny said you’re lying.

A box of candy rattled beside her, pulling Lexa from the bright light of her phone. It slid into the cup hole on the armrest before she could argue more with her sister.

“I didn’t think I’d get a chance to thank you, but I hope you like sno-caps.”

“Hey,” Lexa swallowed and sat up a little bit in her chair. “Yeah. I mean. Of course. Yeah I do. But you don’t have to give me… I mean. It wasn’t…”

“You might not ever know how nice of a gesture that was,” she continued. “But I really do appreciate it...”

“Lexa.”

“I am very grateful, Lexa.”

“Just… helping out I guess. It wasn’t a big deal…”

“Clarke,” she smiled, holding out her hand. “It’s nice to meet my knight in shining flip flops.”

“I should thank you. I’ve never been in this theater. And I never saw an Abbott and Costello movie. Now I’m teaching my three-year old niece bits,” Lexa rambled, shaking the hand one too many times, gripping it just a little too firmly. “Sorry. That’s a lot. I just. You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do,” Clarke nodded, crossing her arms as she leaned against the row ahead.

Gone was the dress and the neat hair and the heels. Lexa liked all of it though. Relaxed in an old, oversized sweater and long, long legs, her hair looked lighter than last week, if that was possible. The dim of the auditorium didn’t let Lexa see her eyes well enough, which was a travesty of the greatest degree.

“Then you’re welcome I guess.”

“So you liked the movie?” Clarke continued.

“I really did. I’m not too sure about this one, but I figured this was a good enough way to spend a Sunday evening. A nice detox from pouring over books and writing impossible papers.”

“This one’s also a good one,” she assured her.

The lights flickered and both looked up, knowing what it meant.

“I better get back to my seat. Enjoy those. I asked specifically for the not stale kind of candy,” Clarke promised, pushing off gracefully.

“Thanks.”

“Enjoy it.”

“You too.”

Lexa’s heart sank slightly as she made it a few steps toward the aisle.

“Maybe I’ll see you next week.”

“Maybe,” she nodded eagerly.

The lights faded not a minute after her departure, but the entire movie, Lexa felt herself fighting the urge to turn around and think of something clever to say, though nothing came to mind. Grateful for some otherworldly will power, she found herself enjoying the movie well enough.

As the end drew closer, she felt her body grow tenser with the idea that she would see Clarke when they left, an that was just another chance to look like an idiot. Surely she couldn’t not embarrass herself for that long.

“So, what did you think?” Clarke called as Lexa tried to hurry through the aisle.

“I liked last week's better.”

“Yeah, hard to beat Bud and Lou,” she smiled.

“If you know all of the movies already, why do you come?”

“Now that is a question.”

“Sorry, it just seemed… I don’t know,” Lexa shrugged and tossed her trash as they walked into the lobby.

Clarke stopped and debated, staring out at the dark that settled on their quiet town, made much heavier due to the day. The entire city prepared for the new week, already in bed and anxious to be miserable with work.

“Do you want to maybe grab a coffee?” Clarke decided, finally turning back to the confused girl in her wake. “We can talk about movies, and why I watch them. And you can tell me about books and papers.”

“Um, yeah. Sure. That’s. We could,” she nodded eagerly.

Carefully, Lexa checked herself in the mirror once again. She ran her hand through the mess on her head and frowned as she adjusted her nerdy glasses that she dreaded. Of course her contacts ran out. Of course she dreaded today.

With a final sigh, she decided that was as good as she could do, though it did not help her nerves.

“Ohhh, look at this one,” Anya teased as she sat on the couch and dried off her daughter, fresh from the bath. “Someone put on her cute flannel for her date.”

“It’s not a date,” Lexa insisted.

“You’ve spent the past two months with this girl.”

“Okay, just seeing movies, and only on Sundays.”

“What about lunch the other day? And drinks last night?” her sister reminded her.

“You look pretty and smart,” Lenny offered after stepping into her pajama pants.

“Thank you, Len,” Lexa nodded politely as she slipped on her boots.

“You should tell Clarke that she looks smart. Mom said brains are most important.”

“Solid dating advice,” Anya reasoned, helping her daughter slip her head through the shirt. “And put your arm around her. That always works. Classic movie move.”

“I’m not making a… I wouldn’t… No. I told. No. I told you it’s just because I like movies. Her dad just died.”

“She’s giving off vibes. And you know it.”

“Okay, alright, well….” Lexa nodded and made her way toward the door. “On that note. Thank you both.”

“Love you!” her sister called.

“Home by midnight, missy,” her niece reminded her.

By the time Lexa made it to the theater, she was a ball of nerves, working it all over in her head. Her sister was absolutely infuriating and lovely and just exhausting. She just liked hanging out with Clarke. That was it. It wasn’t that she was fun and a breath of fresh air, and absolutely her favorite person to look at and talk to, because that would be ridiculous. She just liked movies. Lexa just liked an escape.

“I like your glasses,” Clarke smiled as Lexa approached, deep in thought and distracted.

“Oh, yeah? Um these? I…” she sputtered gracelessly and pressed them up on her nose. “My new contacts went to my old address.”

“I don’t know. These are adorable. You look like you read books and drink gross coffee in the park.”

“Well, that’s fairly accurate.”

Lexa watched the blonde appraise her face, though nothing really changed except her glasses. There was something about blue eyes on her that felt intimidating and violent in the best way.

“I like it,” Clarke finally decided, as if she was truly debating it the entire time, weighing her options.

“My niece said that I looked smart, which is what all girls should want to be.”

“A little feminist in the making?” Clarke chuckled, grabbing Lexa’s elbow as they got in line for tickets.

“My sister is insistent that her daughter is not going to end up pregnant, unmarried, and not ready like her. I mean, she’s a spectacular mother, but I know she thinks she isn’t doing well enough because she needs help. While our mother did it with two kids, completely alone.”

“I mean, Lenny sounds like an amazing kid. So I’m sure she does a great job. Plus Auntie Lexa probably just causes more trouble than the four year old.”

All Lexa could do was grin and order two tickets for them when they reached the window. It was unspoken that she bought the tickets and Clarke bought them candy and a drink to split. It’d been that way for what felt like forever, but wasn’t even that long at all.

“You never told me how she got the name,” Clarke reminded Lexa, as they took their normal seats after loading up. “Lenny isn’t a typical name.”

“And Clarke is?”

“As an expert in weird names, trust me. I know they have a story.”

“Well,” Lexa sighed, crossing her leg as she got comfortable. “Anya was very high on meds, and we’d been joking about names for the entire pregnancy. She was so stressed. I was still away at college, she was going alone until I came for the delivery. Len’s dad pops in and out, so she did it all. And I think she always knew what she was going to name her, but didn’t want to tell me. She’s named after our mother, Eleanor. Anya was going to call her Ellie.”

“And Auntie Lexa decided that was too normal?” Clarke asked, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth.

“I did,” she grinned, digging her phone out of her pocket. “She knows she’s in trouble when she gets Eleanor’d. She loves her name. Here she is.”

“Aww, look at that,” Clarke cooed, softening as Lexa showed off.

They were just barely texting friends, in that they only started to text every single day. And Lexa loved it. Now she was going to send pictures.

“I swear, your smile must be genetic because that’s pure trouble.”

“We’ve been known to cause a bit, yeah,” Lexa shrugged. “How was your paper?”

“I got an A. Thanks for taking a look and editing.”

“Well, what good is knowing a PhD student if they can’t edit your papers, right?”

“That’s the only reason I keep you around, Woods.”

“I knew it,” Lexa grinned, stealing a handful of snacks.

They were there plenty early. It seemed as if it got earlier every week, both arriving before the other in an attempt to eek out a little more time to chat. Lexa just liked hearing Clarke’s movie facts, and liked hearing about what her week was like, both past and the one that was coming up.

“So you said she was named after your mother?”

“Yeah.”

“As in your mom is…”

“Yeah, the year before Anya got pregnant.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No worries. You just… you know. You just get used to it,” Lexa shrugged.

“Yeah,” Clarke nodded, thoughtfully and distracted.

It wasn’t that she was sad, just that she was thinking, but Lexa didn’t want her to be sad, and it made her a little frantic. She stared at the screen before thinking of how to dig herself out of it.

“So you never told me what we’re watching. I need the Clarke Griffin preview, please,” she nudged, pretending to fight over the armrest.

“Lexa, we’ve been over this,” Clarke groaned, pushing back. “I get the armrest. You get to hold the drink.”

“Sorry. Slipped. My mistake.”

“Sure, sure.”

By the time the movie started, Lexa still wasn’t sure she cared about the film, but Clarke was excited, and it was infectious. And so she was quiet, nodding and not talking much until her partner leaned over and told her tiny parts of the film. That was her favorite part.

But this time, Lexa was more distracted than usual by the way the movie played on Clarke’s face. And she was more distracted by her sister’s words. She fiddled with the straw of the drink and tapped her thumb on her knee before steeling herself when the movie was over half finished.

With a slight movement, Lexa lifted her arm and placed it on the back of Clarke’s chair. Frozen, she didn’t turn her head to see what Clarke thought of it. Instead she stared at the screen like her eyes were glued permanently to that position.

It was only after a few minutes when Clarke sunk down slightly and rested the back of her head against Lexa’s arm that she chanced a sideways glance, still afraid to move her head at all. Lexa gulped.

Some things happened, though she didn't register what was happening in the plot. All Lexa felt was Clarke tugging her hand down so that the blonde had Lexa’s arm wrapped around her shoulders like a scarf.

As much as she didn’t want to, Lexa knew she was going to wake her sister up to tell her.

It wasn’t close to snowing. Not even in the realm of possibilities. But the weather did dip below sixty, which was an absolute catastrophe as far as LA was concerned. Clarke took it in stride, happy that the semester was done, that she got her internship, that she got to wear that cute, warm sweater, and that it was Sunday.

It wasn’t just the movies anymore. It was Lexa. Busy as they got, there’d already been coffee on Tuesday and Clarke even got to help her Christmas shop on Friday morning. It was a nice thing, and made her smile.

“Wow, someone looks cute,” Raven teased as she lounged on the couch, a book held above her head that then fell to her chest.

“Thank you.”

“I mean. Like. More cute than normal. Are you wearing make up? Did you shower and do your hair?”

“No.” It was a lie. Clarke did those things. “I’ll be back later.”

“Wait wait wait. Are you going to see your girlfriend?”

“She’s my friend.”

“Okay, but still,” Raven rolled her eyes. “Are you going to finally make your move? It’s been like six months.”

“I’m not making a move.”

“Waiting on her?”

“We’re friends. She’s nice. And sweet. And kind of dorky, though you’d never know which is super cool, and she’s sweet. And kind. And pretty. And ridiculously smart--”

“But you don’t like her,” her roommate reminded her.

“Right. That’s. No. I don’t.”

“Okay.”

“Alright.”

“Okay, stop. Bye,” Clarke decided, nodding to herself against the stupid words her friend wanted to say.

“Wear protection. You know I’m too young to be a grandmother!”

With a snort, Clarke made her way toward the theater. It was still too early for the movie, but getting there early was newly a thing.

It wasn’t that Clarke didn’t like Lexa. She very much liked Lexa. But the student was too hard to read, and their relationship was too good to mess up. She was a good friend when Clarke needed it most, a fresh face and fresh perspective. Lexa had an old soul, and that was comforting and peaceful when she felt the most disturbed.

But she also had these eyes and lips. The lips were a problem. And when she pushed her hair around, creating more of a mess when she thought really hard about something, or was explaining something she was passionate about. And when she put her arm around Clarke at the movies, and she could feel the little bicep there. And when Clarke chanced a look at ink that was on the skin there. And when Lexa wore glasses. And when she texted about stupid things. And when she sent adorable pictures of herself. And when she was just herself. Basically, Lexa was always a problem, and Clarke didn’t have a crush on her.

Except she very much did, but still wasn’t positive what to do about it because they reached such a great place.

Instead, she just walked down the road after she parked and felt herself grow warmer despite the little chill in the air, just from the thought of seeing Lexa.

“Now that’s an interesting hat,” she smiled as she watched Lexa approach from the opposite direction, both meeting in front of the box office.

“Oh, this old thing?” Lexa grinned. “Had it lying about.”

“The infamous Len, I presume?”

“Sorry. Anya had an emergency at work-- I guess another bar tender got sick, and there’s some Christmas party and they needed bodies, and extra money for the holidays doesn’t hurt, so--”

“Seriously? It’s more than fine,” Clarke rolled her eyes and looked up at the little girl perched on Lexa’s shoulders. Her little hands held onto Lexa’s cheeks.

“Care to say hi to my friend, Clarke?”

“Hi,” the little girl shrugged her neck into her shoulders shyly.

“It is nice to meet you, Lenny. Your aunt tells me all about your funny stories.”

“You do?” she asked.

“Of course I do,” Lexa promised. “You’re my best friend. I have to tell lots of stories about my best friend.”

Clarke grinned at the display, her heart simultaneously feeling as if it was being crushed between someone’s fist while at the same time expanding to ridiculously new sizes from being too full of adorable. Lexa with her niece was enough to make her ovaries howl.

The little girl leaned to the side, carefully whispering something that made Lexa smile despite herself.

“She says you’re prettier than I described you,” Lexa explained. “For the record, I described you as beautiful like a princess.”

“Oh my,” Clarke blushed. “A pair of charmers.”

“Like ‘Punzel,” Lenny offered.

“We watch a lot of Disney movies.”

“Tell me the truth, does Lexa sing all of the songs?” Clarke asked the little girl.

“Sometimes but not always. Mostly when we go on ‘ventures, she is the prince. Sometimes I am Wonder Woman, and then Auntie Lexa likes to be Hawkgirl.”

“Oh, now that sounds like a crime fighting duo I’d be afraid of.”

“Which superhero should she be?” Lexa tried as they got in line.

“Hmmm,” the little girl debated. “Make her Supergirl. Or Spider Gwen.”

“Wow, she is a total nerd like you.”

“I’ve corrupted her,” Lexa nodded proudly. “I could only handle so much princess shows before I was going crazy so I introduced her to superheros and life has been sweet.”

“Isn’t this a little late to keep her out?”

“Are you kidding? She stays up later than me,” Lexa scoffed. “Because Anya works at all hours, Len kind of doesn’t have a strict bedtime, so they can spend time together. At least until school next year. Pre-K here we come.”

“I’m going to read words soon,” she piped up from her perch.

“We’re working on the alphabet,” she explained, leaning forward once they made it inside, slipping the little girl from her shoulders to her hip. “Do you have to go potty?”

“No.”

“I’m not above buying affection,” Clarke decided. “Do you want to get a little candy, Lenny?”

She was all big brown eyes and chubby cheeks, and when her smile appeared after earning the nod from her aunt, dimples appeared. Easily, Clarke could understand how Lexa was so attached.

The little girl didn’t change much of their night. Clarke was actually surprised by how well-behaved she was, curling up on Lexa’s lap, tucking her head under her aunt’s chin, and falling asleep about a half hour into the movie despite her own insistence that she was not tired.

Clarke found herself sneaking glances at Lexa more than usual. It was the first movie she was excited for, after reading Little Women about fifteen times throughout her life. And Clarke was addicted to the small smile on Lexa’s face at times. And she liked how she kissed her niece’s hair from time to time, absently and soothingly.

Weirdly enough, Clarke found herself missing the feeling of an arm around her shoulders as she’d come to expect.

“Did it live up to your high standards?” Clarke asked as they watched the credits roll.

“I really, really liked it,” Lexa confessed. “I don’t know why I haven’t watched it yet.”

“Because you’re a book snob.”

“That’s true, but still.”

“Here, let me grab everything. You carry her,” she instructed, picking up Lexa’s coat and bag. “I’ll help you to the car.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry I had to change up our… thing… you know?”

“Are you kidding me?” she scoffed. “This kid is adorable. Glad I got to see what those Woods genes have to offer.”

“Are you going to try to make a baby with my sister?”

“I might after seeing this thing,” Clarke joked sa she hung Lenny’s coat around her shoulders.

“I don’t know how my sister does it. She works so hard, and is raising probably the greatest kid on the planet. She’s astounding.”

“You’re not so far from spectacular yourself.”

“Nah, I’m not… I mean. It’s. She’s a superstar.”

They pressed out into the chill of the night. The Christmas lights were still on in the storefronts on the street. The lampposts were strung in garland and the world was all gentle and tinted in the impending holidays.

“Lexa, you graduated with a degree after your mom died and your sister had a baby, and then got into one of the best PhD programs in the country. And you live with said sister and help with her kid while commuting an hour to and from school, while working, while reading and writing papers and teaching. And you still make time for a stupid movie tradition,” Clarke reminded her. “You’re fairly astounding.”

“I try,” she murmured and nudged her head toward her car down the block.

Clarke wanted to know if her blush was from the cold or her words. She really wanted to know and didn’t know how to ask.

“I never got to thank you, properly, for that… that day,” Clarke swallowed.

“I believe Sno-Caps were involved.”

“No, but I mean. It meant a lot. I know it’s a stupid tradition to have, but coming every Sunday was just part of my life for so long. I fell in love with movies, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“I love the feeling of the theatre, the smell of the popcorn, the murmuring of people. That feeling, where you just forget the world and are sucked in, your heart racing, your breath hitching, your hands wringing as you watch lives unfold. My father gave me that, and it meant a lot that a stranger bought me a ticket when I was at peak crazy.”

“I’m sure you can be crazier than that,” Lexa tried, swallowing hard at the description. “Besides, I had nothing else to do.”

“Why did you come back?”

“I don’t know.”

Clarke watched her hesitate before digging the keys from her pocket and clicking the button. Clarke opened the back door where the car seat was, and watched the tenderness and ease that Lexa fastened the smallest member of the expedition.

Only when Lexa closed the door did she finally look as sheepish as she must have felt. She scratched her neck, a telltale sign that she was slightly nervous. That came when she didn’t know what to say. Clarke had already catalogued such things.

“I thought you were nice and… I don’t know. I thought you were pretty. Plus I really did like the movie.”

“You did?”

With a quiet nod, Lexa leaned against the car door and knit her fingers in her hair, all anxious and honest at the same time. Her cheeks were pink and she huffed out a tiny cloud in the cold of the night.

“I didn’t… I didn’t know anyone here, and you just seemed very real, which is always unique.”

“I’m really glad it was you.”

“Me too,” she finally grinned.

“Did you really tell her I was pretty like a princess?”

“Yeah,” Lexa shrugged and crossed her arms. The smile was back, though it was the one that hid her kind of fake confidence.

“Do you want to grab dinner tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure. Maybe we can try that place you saw, with… the… burgers…” her sentence trailed off with each step Clarke took toward her until she was standing right there, toe to toe.

“Sounds good.”

Clarke didn’t move though. She just stood there in front of Lexa until Lexa eyed her and made herself stand from the lean she’d protected herself with.

“I thought Rapunzel was a good comparison.”

“Will you just stand up so I don’t have to use some cheesy line from a movie?” Clarke demanded.

She regret it as soon as she finished speaking. But Clarke stood there, like every movie she’d ever seen, and she swallowed, suddenly aware of that fear in a new way. But Lexa called her pretty and normal, which weirdly enough were very nice things to hear for someone who felt neither, and often fought to achieve at least some semblance of real.

“What kind of lines would work now?” Lexa tried.

“I’m just a girl,” Clarke smiled. “Standing in front of a girl, asking her to love her.”

“I knew that one,” she smiled despite herself.

“Swoon, and I’ll catch you.”

“Hmm. Not familiar.”

“No, I don’t think I will kiss you, although you need kissing, badly. That’s what’s wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.”

She felt the proximity and her head was forgetting all the right words. Lexa started with an intensity that violently disproved her previous quote.

“And you know how?”

“What do you want?” Clarke started, her heart beating wildly. “You want the moon? Just say the world and I’ll throw a lasso around it a pull it down.”

Lexa gulped. Clarke felt hands on her sides, weirdly enough. The weight of a thumb just above her hip. And Lexa looked at her from beneath her lashes.

“Of all the gin joints in the world, she had to walk into mine.”

“That one works.”

Clarke ducked her head and stared at Lexa’s lips before meeting her eyes. It’d been months in the making and now she was here and she didn't know how to do it, how to move that singular inch.

"It seems right now that all I've ever done in my life is making my way here to you.”

“Any more?”

She shook her head though she had about a dozen things she wanted to say. There was a time for lines and a time for quiet. Clarke licked her lips and cupped Lexa’s cheek and for the life of her, she’ll never know how, but she kissed her, right there on the sidewalk after repeating too many movie lines, in front of the old electronic repair shop with the santa that mooned people who walked by from time to time.

A little girl was asleep in the car, and Clarke kissed Lexa because she was perfect, and her father had taught to her appreciate movie moments, because they didn’t exist in real life, except she got one right now.

That, and Lexa kissed and the winter turned into a tropical summer with the humidity of the equator. Clarke melted into it, pressing her chest against Lexa and sighing as she felt arms wrap around her. Too many thoughts barraged her brain, but she could focus on kissing. That was what she was made to do.

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Clarke agreed.

“Well, that’s going to be a problem.”

“What?”

“I won’t want to stop doing that.”

Clarke chuckled and shyly hid in Lexa’s shoulder, shaking her head slightly at the nonsense that seemed to always sprout so naturally from the girl.

“You ever use those lines on a girl before?”

“You ever use your adorable niece as a wingman before?”

“Never.”

“I might have used one or two…” Clarke murmured, earning a laugh.

The movie was very much forgotten. It was an old black and white with some damsel that Clarke was in love with and Lexa didn’t really care about one bit. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy the movies, just that some of them weren’t terribly interesting to her. Certainly not as interesting as her companion.

She liked spending time with Clarke. She liked that part a lot. Between school and life and everything, it was hard to pick out moments of Clarke, but Lexa managed because it was important. She was madly falling for the weird girl who quoted movies and wanted to make them and said they were magic.

“Stop being so good at this,” Clarke complained, quiet, so as not to disturb the few people in the theater.

“At what?”

“Making out.”

Lexa just grinned and caught Clarke’s lps through half-lidded eyes before kissing her again, this time with a little more fervor to really drive home the good kissing part of CLarke’s assessment of her. It was difficult, with the armrest between them, but it was the only time they had.

“Want to come over to mine tomorrow afternoon? Anya is taking Len to the swimming pool for lessons.”

“I have filming all afternoon.”

Clarke closed the distance and kissed her back, fighting for the coveted position of being the best kisser, trying to repay and illicit just a fraction of the torture she was currently experiencing.

“What about after eight?” she tried.

“I’m watching Lenny.”

“My car after the movie?”

With a small chuckle, followed by a heavy sigh, laden with the realization that they were never going to have alone time ever in their lives. This was all they would have. Just torture in the back row at the movies.

“This is the worst.”

“My roommate is going to be gone on Tuesday,” Clarke remembered as she went through her own schedule.

“Perfect. I’ll reschedule my tutoring.”

“What? No.”

“Trust me. It’ll be worth it.”

The first Sunday, the usher notice immediately as he closed the doors and the lights dimmed. While at first, he assumed she must have snuck through when he was busy doing something else, he scans the darkening theater to discern that, in fact, the usual girl who sat four rows from the back on the right side middle was conspicuously missing.

The theater seemed a little different, with that realization.

Across the city, Lexa saddled the picnic table and handed her girlfriend another beer as her sister made a grand attempt at telling a story, earning a laugh from the film buff. Their night was just starting, and the summer was thick and angry despite the lack of sun finally.

From time to time, after the first Sunday, the theater notices the lack of a certain pair. Not every week, but often, followed by more often than not, until it is as if they come only once or twice a month.

When they do come, it’s always together, and never in any other seats. Sometimes, a little girl trails along, especially around the holidays.

Clarke half expected it to hurt to not go on Sundays, as if everything would miraculously change for some reason. And yet nothing did. She didn’t miss her father any more or any less. She didn’t feel guilty or as if she betrayed him, but merely a new kind of sad that he would never meet the bespeckled girl who still bought her a ticket when they went.

And instead of hiding on Sundays, sometimes, she noticed that it was a different kind of being alive, to have dinner with her mother, or tag along with Lexa and Lenny for ice cream.

The theater kept showing movies, and it was still there for her when she needed that feeling of magic though, and for that, Clarke was ever grateful.

Lexa didn’t consider herself a film snob or even buff. She liked what she liked, and she had little real care for appropriate or award-winning. She liked the modern classics and she love the old funnies, while Clarke was a golden age snob with an encyclopedic knowledge of just about everything cinematic.

For weeks, she spent every Tuesday with bated breath, refreshing the screen, hoping to find an appropriate film to set the mood. It was like holding in a shout she had to get rid of, one that clawed at her throat. But still, she waited because she only got one shot at it.

But it came.

“Anything can happen, don’t you think?” the actor asked, but Lexa didn’t see it. Instead, she kept glancing at the girl who once bought her snowcaps in what felt like an entirely different life.

It seemed as if life was somehow bisected between meeting Clarke. There was the before, and then the now, and Lexa had trouble thinking of them both as congruent.

“An Affair to Remember is just one of my favorites,” Clarke sighed as they sat there and the credits began to roll. “I don’t know why, but I’m just taken with it.”

“It’s no Abbott and Costello go to Mars, but it’s passable.”

“Sometimes I wonder how I put up with you.”

“I’m not sure, but let’s not question it too much.”

“Shall we, love?” Clarke rolled her eyes as she started to stand. “You have an early morning sleeping in and not going to work.”

“Sure, just hang on, one second,” Lexa swallowed, fiddling with her pocket before bending down on a knee.

“You’re going to stick to the floor.”

It didn’t deter her at all. Lexa looked up at the girl she loved and forgot her speech, and so words just came.”

“I fell in love with you at the movies. I know we’ve seen Mary Poppins about six times here, but I still have no idea what it’s about because I just love watching you smile through the whole thing. I love that you hold your breath during Hitchcock movies, and that you laugh even though you know every punchline to Abbott and Costello.”

“Lexa…”

“I fell in love with you at the movies. You were heartbroken, but I was suddenly sitting here, very much curious about this stranger.”

“What are you…”

“I can’t promise you a picture perfect movie life. I can’t promise dance numbers and montages of hard parts and perfectly timed animal costars, but I know that through it all, we can have a happy ending that anyone of these movies you made me watch would be jealous of. Because I’m just… I’m so in love with you, Clarke. Will you--”

In a second, she was half tugged up and half tackled, so that all she could do was hold onto the thing in her arms.

“Yes!” Clarke yelped, throwing her hands around her girlfriend’s neck. She kissed her cheeks and felt herself be tugged up tighter. “Of course, Lex. Oh my goodness.”

“You mean it?”

“Yes. Yes. Of course, yes. What else could I ever want?”

“You want the moon? Just say the world and I’ll throw a lasso around it a pull it down,” Lexa promised, earning a wider smile, if it were possible.

“Kiss me, you fool.”

And with that, she did.

“This isn’t even a classic,” Clarke complained as she juggled the drink and candy and coats in her arms as they made their way to their seats.

“Don’t be a snob,” her wife teased. “Back to the Future is a modern classic.”

“I don’t like what is happening to this theater. You’re a bad influence on it.”

“If I have to watch Casablanca again, I’ll die, honey,” Lexa promised.

“Yeah. Plus I have to do research for my Halloween costume,” Lenny reminded her aunts. “I want it to be perfect.”

All in a row, the three took familiar seats, adjusting in a familiar way. It wasn’t every Sunday. It wasn’t even close to every other Sunday, but still, often enough, in some combination of family members or occasionally just Clarke herself, the theater was still visited as faithfully as a church. Not completely devotion, but religiously enough in comparison.

Not much changed over the years. A few coats of paints, different marathons, petty fights and making out in the back like kids. It housed many memories and it was still a home, a place of refuge for many moments.

“And you are going to be the cutest Doc imaginable,” Clarke cooed to her son as she pulled him out of the carseat in her wife’s lap.

Sleepy, the ten month old yawned and nuzzled into his mother, oblivious as to what the future held for him in just a few weeks.

“This is what I brought on myself,” Lexa rolled her eyes at her niece and her wife and their antics. It was too much, too often. But it was just enough, always.

The End

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