Chapter Text
Lexa hobbled through the wide, bright halls of the hospital, the rubbery tips of her crutches squeaking against the shine of the highly polished floor.
Most people ignored her, but every now and again one would do a quick double-take when they thought she wasn’t looking, and she saw several elbows thrown in a “hey, did you see who just walked by” kind of way. It didn’t really surprise her. She’d been out of the hospital for a good two months already, but with the fuss she put up while a patient, while trapped in the uncomfortable hospital bed for weekd, and the amount of shit she gave the physical therapy folks at her sessions, she’s certain her reputation has cycled through the grapevine more than once or twice.
Plus, the whole “hero cop” thing.
People tended to recognize her face wherever she went lately. It was annoying as hell, and she twisted her mouth into a scowl to guard against anyone asking to come up and shake her hand.
And, it was embarassing, not to mention a bit of a struggle at the moment, as she barely managed to maintain her balance on crutches when she wasn’t being asked to shake someone’s hand.
As Clarke told her once, after Lexa’d walked them backwards into a door, trying to be sexy and cool and collected and failing miserably, she could be a bit of a klutz.
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Lexa continued down the hall until she reached the room she was looking for.
The door was closed, but she ignored that fact and nudged it open with her hip before slipping inside.
There, belly-down on an exam table, was her wife.
“Clarke, what on earth–” Lexa started to speak, but the blonde head rose from the pillow and tilted to the side to get a look at her.
“–Say nothing,” Clarke growled crankily from her place atop the gurney.
And wisely–despite every comment she wanted to make about her wife’s ass, every question she had about “how a grown woman manages to slip on some paint in her studio and crack her tailbone,” every giggle that threatened to escape at the ridiculousness of the word "coccyx”–Lexa kept her mouth shut.
“Hey, Clarke, look who I found out in the parking lot–,” she heard Raven say from behind her, right as she felt the door hit her in the back and push her forward.
Before she could even react, they were on the floor; Lexa on the bottom, crutches splayed out to and fro, and Raven on top, seemingly elbowing every little bit of flesh and muscle she could reach as she struggled to get up.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bellamy said from above them, and lent a hand to help pull Lexa up before ushering her over to the gurney where Clarke scooted to make a little room. “I leave you alone for two minutes to park the car, Lexa. Two minutes! Raven, go get a doc to see if this idiot reinjured anything.”
The only thing that made Lexa feel better, as Clarke laughed at her and Bellamy shook his head in disbelief, was the look of terror in the doctor’s eyes when he saw her sitting on the gurney.
Everyone just laughed harder.