Work Text:
Raven Reyes knows three things for certain right now:
1) Octavia Blake is dating Lincoln
2) Octavia is licking chocolate batter off the second knuckle of her pointer finger with her pretty, pink tongue
3) Raven is fucked
Octavia pushes the bowl away from her and groans, pressing a hand over her stomach.
“I’ve eaten so much brownie batter I think I’m going to be sick.”
Raven rolls her eyes, wrinkling her nose at the contorted expression that Octavia is pulling in her direction. “And whose fault is that?” Raven asks as she runs her hands underneath the faucet, washing her hands clean of sticky sugar and egg.
“Whatever,” Octavia says, stepping closer so she can run her hands underneath the tap as well, “I know you ate just as much as me.” She narrows her eyes at the side of Raven’s head while Raven stares determinedly ahead, “you are probably feeling just as gross right now, you just won’t admit it.”
Raven grins haughtily in her direction, snatching a paper towel from the roll on the counter. “Or maybe I’m just not as much of a wimp as you.”
Octavia huffs and shakes her head, “We both know who would win this fight if it came to it.”
Raven raises an eyebrow, “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” Octavia says with a feral grin stepping closer again.
The air is warm and charged and Raven has to swallow hard before she turns away, ignoring the glint of Octavia’s smile and the strong lines of muscle that rope through her arms.
“Whatever,” Raven mumbles, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.
Octavia doesn’t seem to quite understand why she is tongue tied, and she squints at Raven before looking back at the oven.
“Bellamy is going to like these so much,” she says rocking onto her toes, “he always complains about how much he misses home baked sweets.”
Raven smiles at the image, “Bellamy—strong, stoic, manly-man Bellamy—complains about missing brownies?”
Octavia nods like it is the most obvious thing in the world. Raven is almost jealous for a moment of the connection that the Blake siblings have. How nice it would be, she thinks, to have a built-in best friend, someone who stands with you no matter what. She had thought she had that with Finn. But. Look where she is now.
Octavia doesn’t seem to notice Raven’s silence and leans back into the counter, sighing happily.
“Lincoln says he can cook, which is so badass,” she lolls her head to the side to look at Raven, “Don’t you think?”
Raven’s breath catches and she feels that familiar roil in her stomach. She hates herself for it, because her friend is happy and loose as she splays back on the counter, light and relaxed at the sound of Lincoln’s name.
Octavia is starry eyed at the thought of him and Raven wants those stars directed at her but she knows that is selfish and wrong. Those constellations aren’t meant for Raven’s skies and the thought makes everything in her clench.
Raven looks hopefully at the door for Clarke’s return, needing salvation from this small kitchen and the heat of Octavia as she steps closer.
“Why do you do that?” Octavia asks, head cocked, confusion written into the etch of her stride, “Why do you tense up when I mention him?”
Raven can’t help herself, she answers too bitter, words sharp and biting. “Are you really asking me that?” she says.
Octavia is still confused and Raven wonders how a girl, so smart and quick, is so slow when it comes to this. But Octavia is raising her voice a little bit, never one to take Raven’s toxicity.
“Yes,” she says, her body language making her the aggressor, toeing forward into Raven’s space. Raven refuses to back down and they stand face to face, Raven’s fists clenched at her side. “Do you not like him? What did he do to offend you?” Octavia demands, voice low and jaw clenched.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Raven asks, almost pleading now. Octavia is too close, breath hot on Raven’s face, this kitchen too small to contain the shudder of Raven’s broken lungs.
“What are you talking abou—” Octavia starts, but she is cut off when Raven lunges forward.
She pushes back on Octavia’s shoulders, and they stumble messily into the counter. And then Raven is kissing her, mouth pushing roughly against Octavia’s. Octavia freezes, unmoving underneath the sharp tug of Raven’s hands. Everything is suspended for a moment, Raven pushed against Octavia, eyes closed so tightly it hurts, unwilling to see the expression on Octavia face.
And then, as suddenly as the kiss started, Octavia is kissing her back. Hands cupping at the curve of Raven’s jaw, her teeth biting at Raven’s lip. Octavia is all churn and pull now, tugging Raven closer as she opens her mouth against Raven’s lips.
Raven Reyes knows three things for certain right now:
1) She is kissing Octavia Blake
2) Octavia is licking into Raven’s mouth with her pretty, pink tongue
3) Raven is fucked
Octavia wraps her arms around Raven’s neck until they are flush together. Raven imagines the heartbeat she feels shuddering through her chest is Octavia’s as well, that they are connected right down to their very core, the rise and fall of Octavia’s breath might be enough to sustain Raven for an eternity.
The kiss has turned desperate, wet and open, Raven feels a jolt of pleasure as Octavia presses her thigh between Raven’s legs. She gasps hard against Octavia’s mouth, disbelieving at her daring. It isn’t until she presses her hands to the flutter of Octavia’s pulse that Raven realizes that Octavia is shaking.
Raven moves away for a second, jerking her head back to survey the girl in front of her. Octavia is mussed and panting, hair a swept back tangle and cheeks flushed. Raven catches Octavia’s eyes and sees the stars.
She pushes herself hard against Octavia, and Octavia puts out a steadying hand as Raven grasps at the front of her jacket with a new kind of desperation. She knocks over a bag of flour and they ignore the dull thud in favor of the way that Raven’s tongue presses slick into Octavia’s mouth.
Raven is suspended in this moment, willing each second to draw out long and slow. Because these stars are not for her, the press of Octavia’s hands against the jut of her waist is not for her, and the mouth that hungrily consumes Raven is not for her.
To take what belongs with another is wrong, but Raven reels as she presses kisses against the strong line of Octavia’s jaw and morality becomes such a trivial thing in comparison.
They hear the footsteps at the same time, the familiar rough, low of Clarke’s laugh and the murmur of Lexa’s weak complaint. Raven and Octavia spring apart quickly, jarred from the distorted reality they had spun in the stoked heat of the kitchen. Raven feels a sudden rush of shame and in one glance at Octavia she realizes how completely she has messed up. Octavia stares wide-eyed and clenched at the floor, the set of her hips and her nervously tangled hands broadcast guilt and regret better than any words ever could.
Clarke and Lexa enter the room and Raven can’t seem to coax her face into some form of normality. Her heart beats to the messy tune of devastation, and her mind blanks.
Because in this moment, Raven Reyes only knows three things for certain:
1) Octavia is not looking at her
2) Octavia is not looking at her
3) Octavia is not looking at her
And additionally:
1-3) Raven is fucked