Work Text:
She has it planned out weeks in advance.
Although never a fan of the so-called great outdoors, stubbornly resistant to Lexa’s many attempts to convert her to the “joys” of nature and lure her on camping trips with Lincoln and Octavia, Clarke wants to do something extra special for the occasion. Something that speaks directly to Lexa’s heart and the things she holds dear. Because what could be more romantic than getting down on one knee and popping the question to the woman she loves, backdropped by a scenic vista that’s straight out of a Bob Ross painting?
The first challenge is getting Lexa to agree to a weekend getaway at all.
To begin with, she’s non-committal; dodging and deflecting the suggestion of a spontaneous mini-vacation when Clarke broaches the subject. Up to her eyeballs in her doctoral thesis, Lexa is reluctant (read: petrified) to neglect her academic research even for a short break, especially at this crucial point. In the end, it takes a lot of cajoling, some strategically-deployed sad silences and frowny-faces, culminating in a targeted campaign of seduction to wear down Lexa’s opposition and convince her that they could both use a trip to rest and recharge their batteries. Lexa caves soon enough, steamrolled by the twin juggernauts of The Manetmakers encased in sheer lingerie and Clarke’s promise to try going vegan for a month again.
Manipulative? Yeah. But it’s a win-win for everyone—not least Lexa’s students, who’ve borne the brunt of her elevated stress levels and general tetchiness these past few weeks.
So with Lexa on board, Clarke books a remote cabin upstate and swears their closest friends to secrecy about the proposal. Only to realise on arrival that she neglected to pack the fucking ring. It’s still hidden inside the battery compartment of the Alien dildo in the ‘pleasure chest’ beneath their bed—the one place Lexa is guaranteed never to look, because that toy still haunts her to this day.
It’s a minor setback.
Clarke just needs to contact Raven and have her drive up with the ring. Rae will give her no end of shit about it, but the plan is salvageable. No need to panic.
Except there’s no service. The cabin and surrounding forest is a dead zone. No WiFi either. The website had some marketing spiel about going off the grid, digital detox, escaping slavish devotion to screens, and communing with your surroundings. The kind of granola-munching, eco-cultish crap that brought Clarke out in hives when she read it, but knew for a fact would appeal to Lexa.
Soon, an awful realisation sinks in.
She’s gonna have to hike to civilisation, or at least until she can get one bar on her phone, which she smuggled in her luggage despite Lexa’s insistence that they leave all electronic devices—including certain battery-operated ones—at home. They even used an actual fold-out map to navigate the route! As it transpires, Lexa is no less chill about barking out directions than she is about shutting down TERFs on Twitter (the only thing it’s acceptable to deadname) and honestly, it’s all kinds of sexy.
Of course, Lexa is surprised when Clarke suggests that they go for a walk within minutes of their arrival. Probably because on the journey here, she’d made it pretty explicit that the first item on their itinerary was to defile every available surface in the place then fire up the hot tub. But, even so, Lexa goes along with Clarke’s sudden urge to stretch her legs and take in the fresh air, happily in her element as they follow a trail to the lake.
It takes Clarke’s breath away to see Lexa gazing out over tranquil, crystal clear waters, majestic pine trees rising up all around, flannel shirt fluttering in the breeze, that bubble butt looking spec-fucking-tacular in those tight, tight jeans. And when Lexa turns to smile at Clarke, beaming ear to ear, all the huffing and puffing, the blisters she already feels forming on her heels are forgotten; suddenly inconsequential.
She rushes up to Lexa and kisses her, loving that moment she catches Lexa off guard before Lexa pulls her closer by the cheeks.
After they separate, several breathless minutes later, Clarke says, “Hey, um, why don’t you go take a walk along the shore? I think I’ve got a stone in my shoe. I’ll just sit here to shake it out, then catch up.”
Still a little dazed from the kiss, Lexa placidly nods her agreement. Green eyes unfocused. An absent smile pulling at her full lips. Sufficiently distracted that she doesn’t question Clarke’s ulterior motives.
Once Lexa is halfway to the wooden jetty, Clarke reaches into her sock and fishes out her phone. Relieved to see the blessed two bars of signal strength on the screen, she sends a silent thank you to Linda Lovelace in the heavens. Making sure Lexa isn’t looking in her direction, Clarke quickly taps out a text to Raven, thumbs flying over the keyboard.
[Clarke]:
HELP
OPAROI in jeopardy
Need you to get the alien queen from under my bed and bring it to the cabin tonight
DISCREETLY
Lexa can’t see or hear you arrive
There’s a wood store at the back
Drop it off there
Thx
It’s about thirty seconds before she gets a predictably terse reply.
[Raven]:
Wtf, Griff? I’m not touching your stash of dildos.
And isn’t it like a three hour drive?
[Clarke]:
Pls, I’m begging
I’ll owe you a million
A minute passes. She glances up to see Lexa waving from the jetty, beckoning Clarke over.
“Shit. Come on, Rae, come on,” she grits out through her teeth, angling her body further away and pretending to tie her shoelace.
At last, she gets a: FINE. Drop me a pin.
[Clarke]:
You’re a lifesaver.
Raven replies with a succinct emoji: 🖕🏼
[Clarke]:
Love you too 😘
Clarke manages to send the location to Raven and covertly slip the phone into her sock again before Lexa ambles back over, a puzzled furrow between her brows.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I guess I’m just kind of tired from the drive, babe. I thought the hike might help clear my head, but I could use a nap.”
Lexa eyes her knowingly. “And is that with or without our clothes on?”
“Well, I’m not gonna say no to naked spooning.”
Clarke gets to her feet and steps in closer to Lexa’s body. She curls a hand around Lexa’s neck, fingers toying with the wispy curls at the nape. Draws her in until their smirking lips are only half an inch apart.
“If hands end up on or in certain places,” Clarke murmurs, “that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
It turns out “nap” really is a code word for sex—on the faux sheepskin rug beside the fireplace, the window seat overlooking the deck, and twice more on the couch before they finally make it to the four-poster bed. Several orgasms apiece later, they fall into a tangle of limbs and soon doze off.
The sun has already sunk behind the tops of the tall pine trees when Clarke stirs, woken by a sudden movement, the dip of the mattress beside her.
“Lex?” she asks, voice rusty with sleep as she rolls onto her back.
“Shh.”
In the semi-darkness, Clarke can just about make out the details of Lexa’s face, cast half in shadow. Head tilted to one side, posture held perfectly still.
Lexa whispers, “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Clarke whispers back.
“There’s someone outside.”
Straining to listen, all Clarke can detect is the faint rustle of the wind through the trees, the distant hoot of an owl. It’s so damn quiet here that it kind of gives her the creeps, a little tingle of unease running down her spine.
Then she hears it: the crunch of footsteps on gravel.
She glances at the clock on the nightstand, reading the glowing digits, and does the math in her head.
It has to be Raven—failing dismally at being stealthy.
“Stay here. I’m going to investigate,” Lexa says, swinging her legs off the bed.
Impulsively, Clarke grabs Lexa’s arm to prevent her from leaving, taking a second to admire the increased definition of formerly puny biceps. Her girl’s been working out…
“Babe, wait. It’s probably just a wild animal. If we turn on the outside lights we’ll scare it away.”
“What if it isn’t? What if it’s a prowler? Or a sexual predator? What if some axe-wielding maniac saw us by the lake today and decided two sapphics on their own would be an easy target to act out their sick homicidal fantasies upon?”
Clarke barely refrains from rolling her eyes. Lexa’s been listening to far too many true crime podcasts lately.
“Yeah, and what are you gonna do if that is the case? Tai chi their ass in your birthday suit?”
Lexa’s pout is visible even in the gloom.
“No,” Clarke says firmly; decisively. “We’ll go check together, alright? Safety in numbers.”
So they hastily pull on some clothes and tiptoe into the main living area, ducking down low to avoid the windows. Just for show, Clarke grabs the poker from the bucket beside the fireplace while Lexa arms herself with… a large frying pan?
Okay, whatever.
Clarke takes it upon herself to sidle over to the door, to the narrow window next to it. She peeks through the crack at the edge of the curtain. And, sure enough, she spots a figure clad all in black sneaking past the Mustang parked out front, heading directly for the back of the property.
“See anything?” Lexa asks in a hushed tone from her crouched position behind the kitchen counter.
One quick look over her shoulder at Lexa and Clarke has to stifle a snort. Because there’s something so deeply ridiculous about Lexa being poised to spring into action wielding a deadly piece of non-stick kitchenware, eyes wide and alert behind glasses that sit slightly askew, her hair still a wild nest from their earlier bedroom activities.
This complete dork is the person Clarke wants to spend the rest of her life with. And that thought sends a warm pang through her chest.
But back to the charade.
Clarke looks outside again.
“Could be a raccoon? It’s difficult to tell in the dark.”
Then there’s a different kind of noise. A crash. Logs being toppled over. What sounds distinctly like a bunch of emphatic curse words ground out in Spanish. Something about someone’s mother? Clarke isn’t sure, she flunked that class in high school.
“That is not an animal,” Lexa growls, standing up and twirling the frying pan in her hand. “Alright, screw this. Whoever is out there is messing with the wrong lesbian.”
Jaw locked in determination, Lexa flips the switch for the porch lights and strides towards the door.
In a slight panic now, Clarke flings herself in front of Lexa, blocking her path.
“Lex, you can’t go out there. Deranged psycho killer, remember?
“Clarke. Move aside. I’ll handle it.” The words are delivered with crisp, measured calm.
While Lexa like this is always super hot—channeling that aura of authority she adopts whenever they do the ‘Commander & Sky Brat’ role play—for once in Clarke’s life, she ignores her libido.
“You won’t be handling me if you get yourself murdered, and that’s a problem.”
Lexa just ducks her head and plants a quick kiss on Clarke, full on the mouth.
“Remember me fondly, then,” Lexa intones, earning an exasperated sigh once she pulls away and steps around Clarke.
With a flourish, Lexa throws open the door.
“Who’s out there?” she demands. “Show yourself.”
Silence reigns, except for the whispering sounds of the forest, the buzz of the porch lights and the small insects they attract.
“I‘m armed—and I know martial arts!” Lexa snarls into the darkness.
Clarke has to bite down hard on her lip to stop herself from laughing at Lexa’s dramatics.
“I mean it. This is your last chance.”
A moment later, a dark shape emerges, edging into view, holding up their hands in surrender. Raven’s wearing a ski mask to disguise her appearance and Clarke really has to give her props for leaning in to the covert ops cosplay. She wonders if Raven swiped the outfit from the set of their last movie, Position Impossible…
“The cops are already on their way,” Lexa continues, not a quiver in her voice as it rings out, strong and stern. “And we all know ACAB. Shoot first, ask questions later. So, if you value your life, you’ll get the fuck out of here. Now.”
Clarke keeps expecting Raven to give a sarcastic retort, but she stays silent. So when Lexa takes a step forward, brandishing the frying pan in a vaguely threatening manner, to Clarke’s stunned surprise, Raven just… turns tail and runs, fleeing into the night.
Even Lexa looks astounded that the scare tactics actually worked.
“Huh. I must be more intimidating than I thought.”
Meanwhile, Clarke is quietly impressed by how convincing Raven was. Because the girl is good at faking an orgasm, it’s true, but that’s about the extent of her acting ability. This was, like, Daytime Emmy-worthy.
“Uh, yeah. My hero.” Clarke blinks as she peers into the night. “But let’s get inside in case they come back.”
Taking her role as fearless protector seriously, Lexa does a thorough sweep of the cabin to make sure all the doors and windows are secure. She struts around the place, like her newfound ability to deter potential murderers is the ultimate flex.
And safe in the knowledge that it was just Raven fully committing to the bit out there, Clarke can’t pretend she doesn’t find this extra swagger a major turn-on.
The next morning, Clarke rises bright and early, limbs pleasantly aching, leaving an exhausted Lexa sprawled out on the rumpled sheets, covered in hickeys.
After borrowing Lexa’s discarded sweater and tugging on a pair of jeans, Clarke tiptoes quietly through the cabin and slips outside, only to stop dead in her tracks when she sees a figure casually sauntering up the path. Oversize sunglasses on. Purse swinging from her shoulder. Wearing denim cut-offs and a camisole. Looking every inch like the first girl to get bumped off in a slasher movie set in the woods.
“Raven,” Clarke hisses. “What the hell?”
Even hidden behind the shades, Clarke knows Raven’s shooting her a sour look.
“Well, fuck you too, Griff. This is the thanks I get for hand-delivering your sex toys?”
Scowling, Raven digs a hand into her purse and pulls out a very familiar black and teal object.
“Here.” She throws the dildo at Clarke, who barely catches it before 12 inches of silicone smacks her across the face.
“Jesus! You nearly took my eye out.”
“An occupational hazard for us.”
With a sigh, Clarke fiddles with the battery compartment and a sudden wave of relief passes over her when she sees the ring sparkling in the sunlight. (Maya really did a beautiful job with the stone setting and slim platinum band.)
But, just as quickly, the nerves hit.
Clarke’s stomach churns. Anxious about the speech she’s been rehearsing for weeks, but more so about Lexa’s reaction. Because Clarke has never been good at putting her feelings into words, and this—this is the most important and scary question she’s ever going to ask. And it has to be perfect. Lexa deserves nothing less.
Taking in a steadying breath, Clarke shoves the dildo under her sweater.
“Thank you,” she tells Raven, sincerely, braving a smile to help quell the butterflies. “And I’m sorry you had to abort the mission and come back.”
“Abort?” Raven pushes her sunglasses up. Gives a quizzical look. “What are you talking about?”
They stare at each other in mounting confusion.
“You didn’t make the drop last night because we interrupted you. And that’s why you’re here now?”
“Griff. I was at home last night. I had a thing with Anya, so I got up at the ass crack of dawn instead. I figured you’d both still be asleep.”
Clarke’s blood runs cold.
“Oh… fuck.”
“What?”
She chews her bottom lip. “Okay, so, Lexa and I came this close to being a national crime statistic.”