Chapter Text
“Fuck!”
“Fuck, fuck, fuckety fuck!” Clarke slammed down the hood of car, her very expensive, recommended by her ex as super reliable, should’ve known better than to listen to his lying, cheating ass, only wanted her to buy it so he could drive it car.
She sat down on the dusty hood and pulled out her phone from her front pocket. She held it up and move it around, then stood up and walked a few feet both in front of and behind her car, to no avail. There was no cell service anywhere to be found on this stretch of road.
“Perfect.” She muttered to herself before kicking at the fine gravel under her feet that clung to her sneakers. She sighed as she came to terms with what she had to do next. She pocketed her phone and stood up, making her way over the passenger side door to retrieve her purse and her stainless steel tumbler that thankfully was still relatively full of ice water, before closing the door and pressing the alarm button on her key fob.
The dust kicked up as Clarke walked the shoulder of the country road. She thought the best plan was to go was back towards the direction that she initially came from. She thought she remembered passing a farm house a few miles back, though she was more focused on the winding road ahead of her and not the scenery around her. She hoped that the people there would be willing to let her use their phone so she could call a tow truck for her Finn endorsed, should’ve bought the vintage Jeep that she really wanted, “new” car.
Maybe if she had, she wouldn’t be in her current predicament. She took her new vehicle out for its maiden road trip to visit her younger sister at college. Well, Raven was technically in her last year of grad school and was certainly not exactly a bright eyed freshman any more. She was studying to become a Biomedical Engineer, or more specifically a Rehabilitation Engineer. Raven wanted to help design and build new technological solutions for people who have disabilities and Clarke was so unbelievably proud of her; she had come so far from the gangly seven-year-old kid who followed Clarke home from elementary school on their first day.
Clarke stopped to take in her surroundings and quench her thirst. According to her fitness watch, she’s walked about a mile and a half so far with no signs of human life anywhere to be found. She took a sip of water from her tumbler as she reevaluated her next move. Another check of her phone showed that she was still nowhere near a working cell tower. She sighed as she popped the top back on her drink and continued down the dusty trail.
She was a little past mile two of her hike when she saw the roofline of a little farmhouse peeking through a gap the trees. It was a modest little house, with a weathered tin roof, covering its white clapboard siding that looked like it recently got a fresh coat of paint.
As Clarke got closer, she noticed the winding brick walkway that lead to a wide front porch. On its weathered wooden slats two rocking chairs found their home and from its bead-board ceiling, a porch swing lightly swayed with the afternoon breeze. She imagined an older couple, wasting away the waning afternoons of their golden years on that swing with glasses of lemonade in hand. Not a bad way to fill your days, she thought to herself.
Clarke had to admit, the home nestled into its surroundings like a well read book in an old library. It looked as if it was always meant to live on the rolling field it occupied, like it had been there a hundred years and could easily reside there a hundred more.
She trudged up the steps to the modest home resisted the urge to peek into the two large windows that overlooked the front porch. She raised her hand and timidly knocked on the wooden front door. She stood for a few moments, twisting her fingers around a loose thread in her pocket as she heard footsteps clunk on what she presumed was a hardwood floor. She stepped back once she heard the doorknob begin to turn. Needless to say, she was surprised by what greeted her from the other side of the door.
A young woman, likely in her late 20’s, stood on the other side of the threshold. She flipped a gingham dishtowel over her shoulder as she sized Clarke up. “Can I help you?” she asked with a crooked smile.
Clarke cleared her throat, suddenly unnerved by her expectations being subverted. “Uh yeah hi.” She waved and the woman’s smile grew a bit wider. “My car broke down a few miles back and there’s no cell service out here. I was wondering if I could use your phone?” Clarke asked politely. “I’m not a serial killer I promise.” She raised her hand to give her well-practiced form her youth, Girl Scout salute.
The woman smiled again as she crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “That’s what all the serial killers around here say.”
Clarke couldn’t help but notice that the girl stalling her rescue was pretty, very pretty, in that wholesome, clean living, country girl kind of way.
The woman nodded her head, pointing Clarke in a direction behind her, “Phone’s back there on the side table.” She turned her head back to Clarke, “but before I let you in, I think I should at least know your name. To make sure you aren’t a serial killer and all.”
Clarke smiled and held her hand out. “Clarke, Clarke Griffin.”
The woman pushed herself off the door frame and took the hand that was offered, shaking it firmly. “Alexandria Woods, but most everyone calls me Lexa.”
“Lexa.” Clarke let the name roll of her tongue, “very nice to meet you.”
“You as well Clarke.” Lexa near whispered and the soft tone in her voice sent a deep chill down Clarke’s spine.
Lexa let go of her hand and stepped back, “like I said, phone is over on the table. Since you say you’re not a serial killer, I can assume it’s safe to turn my back on you so I can finish washing up my dishes?”
Clarke smiled again. “I swear I’m not,” She let her voice drop an octave, “but if I were you I’d put the carving knives away first.” She hoped it came out as flirty and not creepy.
Lexa chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mirth like polished gems, “Duly noted.”
Clarke internally gave herself a high five at her successful attempt at flirting, even though she had no idea what she was doing. She had just broken up with her long time boyfriend after she caught him in bed with the waitress from the local bar they had always frequented. She was in no way ready to even entertain the idea of another relationship. But Lexa was quite possibly the prettiest girl Clarke had ever laid eyes on and the flirtatious comment came out of her mouth before she even knew what she was happened.
She slinked over to the house phone and picked it up, quickly dialing one of the three numbers she had memorized. She assured her sister that she was safe, and her arrival would be inevitably delayed. Raven was disappointed of course, as was Clarke. They had both been looking forward to this visit since they made the plans for it over Raven’s Christmas break.
Clarke then dialed the number for her car’s roadside assistance service, luckily she had the foresight to store the number in her phone. She tried to alert the service through her car, but like her phone, the car could not connect to cell service.
She turned and leaned against the table as she waited on hold to connect to an operator. Lexa stood at the double farm sink, towel still perched on her shoulder as her arms moved from one sink to the next and then finally the dish rack. One by one, the dishes filled the rack as Clarke kept her eyes firmly glued to the dishwasher. Lexa had on a faded pair of jeans, Levi’s, Clarke could surmise from the red tag on the back pocket, that hugged her body perfectly capped off with a plain white tee shirt that had obviously become intimately acquainted with the washing machine. Clarke’s fingertips itched to reach out and caress the smooth cotton, to familiarize herself with the seemingly firm flesh underneath.
“Hello?”
The operator shook her out of her useless bisexual gayze and Clarke finally tore her attention away from her impromptu hostess. The operator was polite and empathetic, but fifteen minutes later, Clarke was left struggling with a new conundrum. They couldn’t get a tow truck out to her for five to six hours.
She let out a breath as she hung up Lexa’s phone. How was she going to kill those hours? She looked back at Lexa and blushed at the lewd thoughts that had popped into her mind.
“Everything alright?” Lexa asked with an almost knowing grin on her face as she slipped the dish towel from her shoulder through the handle on the stove.
Clarke’s cheeks managed to get even redder at the suspicion that Lexa might me a mind reader. She quickly collected herself in order to answer Lexa’s question. “Unfortunately it seems like I’ve got a bit of a wait for a tow truck.”
Lexa leaned against the kitchen counter. “How long do they think?”
“Five to six hours.” Clarke replied.
Lexa shook her head as she let out a light whistle. “That’s a long wait, makes sense though, the local tow company is down to one driver. Old man Napier retired about a month ago, just his grandson Ricky running the business now.” Lexa slid her hands into her pockets. “That is a very long wait, even for Ricky. I guess you’re not the only damsel in distress today.”
“I guess not.” Clarke replied.
“Well, I’ve got a few chores left to tackle this afternoon, but your more than welcome to wait here. Or I can take you back to your car if you’d like to wait there. But I have to warn you, we’re expecting some nasty storms to roll through in the next few hours. It’s up to you.”
Clarke wasn’t expecting an open invitation, but Lexa’s voice was as warm and as gentle as the summer breeze that blew the tall grass in the fields she passed on the way to this little farmhouse. It was reassuring and sincere in its tone that solidified the feeling in Clarke’s gut that this woman could be trusted.
“You would leave me alone? In your house?” Clarke asked, genuinely curious to confirm what her instincts seemed to be telling her.
Lexa smiled again, crooked and coy. “Well it’s not as if you could rob me, being that your getaway car is stranded, by the looks of the dust caked on your shoes, somewhere a few miles down the road.”
Clarke immediately looked down at her feet, it was clear by the condition of her shoes that she had been walking for a while before she got here. I guess Lexa wasn’t checking me out when she answered the door.
Lexa slid past her, her hands finding set of keys on the kitchen table that she pocketed before making her way to the front door. She removed a well-worn red baseball cap from the coat rack by the window and placed her long braided locks before walking over and opening the door. “There’s some iced tea in the fridge and if you’re hungry, there’s some homemade mac and cheese in the crockpot on the counter, or there’s also salad fixings on the bottom shelf of the fridge if you’re into healthier stuff. I should be back in about an hour. I can take you to your car then if you’d like.”
Lexa opened the door and made to head out, but Clarke wouldn’t be Clarke if she didn’t secure one more assurance that she was welcome here. “Lexa are you sure? I can wait in my car, or outside on the porch till you come back.” Clarke chuckled. “I can still rob you blind even without a getaway vehicle, you’d be surprised how much stuff I can fit into my purse.”
Lexa laughed. “I’m sure. Even if you are Ma Barker, my family would never forgive me for being such a terrible host. As long as you’re here, my home is your home. So please, make yourself comfortable” Lexa offered her reassuringly and Clarke finally relented.
“And besides Clarke,” Lexa looked back at her over her shoulder. “I think the only thing you might be able to actually steal from me… is my heart.” She added with a wink before exiting gracefully, closing the door behind her.