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Clarke staggers to a halt, bending down to put her hands on her knees. The air is thick and humid, and despite the early hour it’s already blazing hot so she’s already got sweat trickling down her back. She knows her hair is a wild mess, and she’s sure her face is beat red too.
“Alright, soldiers! Warm-up is over. You’ve got two minutes for a water break and then fall back in.” The lead instructor calls out.
“Holy fuck! That was the warm-up?!” Clarke gasps out. Her breaths are still coming shallow and fast.
Beside her Raven and Octavia are looking a lot better off. Raven reaches out to pat Clarke’s shoulder. “I told you to work out more, Clarkey.”
Octavia laughs. “Yeah, you’re regretting all those donuts now, aren’t you, Clarke-opotamus?”
She can only muster the energy to flip them off. A second later a water bottle hits her in the shoulder.
“Take a drink. We don’t want you to pass out.” Bellamy tells her.
Clarke glares at him as best she can at six in the morning, but she bends over, groaning and sore already, to grab the water.
She’s barely taken a sip when the instructor starts yelling again. “Time’s up, soldiers. Get your asses in line.”
Reluctantly she drops the water and shuffles behind Raven towards the line. She already can’t believe that she let her friends talk her into this. They had decided to sign up as a group, Raven, Octavia, Bellamy, Wells, Jasper, Monty, and herself, thinking it would be fun. Now, she’s already paid for six months of torture so she has to stick it out.
The two instructors stand at the front of the group, both wearing grey shirts with Army stamped across the chest. The description of the class as a “Boot Camp” was dead serious, both instructors had served in the army for multiple tours of duty. The lead instructor, Lexa, is a slender, wiry woman, who looks about Clarke’s height with long, braided, brown hair and piercing, intelligent eyes. Clarke doesn’t think she’s seen her crack a smile yet. The other instructor, Lincoln, is a tall, hulking man with a shaved head, but a gentle way of moving and a warm voice.
Clarke belatedly realizes she should really be paying attention to the instructions they’re giving. Apparently they’re mean to be splitting into groups of four. Raven and Octavia quickly latch onto her, leaving the guys to form their own group. Clarke casts a glance around to look for another person to round out their group.
“Hey,” She hears a person behind her say. She turns to find a boy with ridiculous, floppy brown hair hanging in his eyes and what he probably thinks is a charming grin on his face.
“I think I should probably join your group and help you ladies out. My name is Finn.” He casts a glance over Clarke’s shoulder to wink at Octavia or Raven.
Clarke doesn’t even bother to conceal her eye-roll, but as she looks around she realizes they’re going to be stuck with him.
Octavia slinks up next to her, batting her eyelashes. “That would be lovely, Finn. I’m Octavia. That’s Raven and this is Clarke.” She pats Clarke’s back unnecessarily hard, drawing a grumpy grumble from her.
“Now isn’t the time for chit-chat, soldiers. Each group needs to pick a station to start at.” Lexa directs them. “Alright. You’ve got forty-five seconds at each station. When Lincoln calls time, you’ve got fifteen seconds to jog to the next. The stations are squats, burpees, lunges, jumping jacks, mountain climbers, and pushups. We will do three circuits, take a break, then do three more circuits.”
Finn nudges her as they make their way to the jumping jacks station. “You know, you might look passably cute if you gave me a smile.”
Clarke just barely refrains from slapping him. Morning is not the time to test her patience. “You might be passably cute if you had a personality transplant and a haircut.”
Finn just grins at her. “Woah, wake up on the wrong side of the bed, princess?”
She’s saved from a response by Lincoln. “Okay, everybody. Time starts now!”
Minutes later, she sweating and puffing and struggling her way through shaky pushups. A pair of tennis shoes comes jogging into her view and a firm voice sounds from above her. “Keep that butt down, soldier.”
Clarke ignores it, too focused on not falling over. A second later, she’s startled to find herself looking into a pair of grey eyes. (Pretty grey eyes.)
“What’s your name, soldier?” Lexa asks from her plank position in front of her. Clarke barely manages to choke her name out.
“Alright, Clarke. I think with your current level we need to try pushups from the knees. Then we’ll build you up to doing full pushups.”
A hot flash of indignation shoots through Clarke. She fixes the eyes (the pretty eyes) in front of her with a glare and thrusts her chin out as much as she can manage. “I can do them.” She spits out.
Something sparks in Lexa’s eyes. There may be the tiny beginnings of a smile in the corners of her lips. “On me then, Clarke. Down, up, down, up.”
She wheezes and strains, trying to match the movements of the woman in front of her effortlessly pressing up and down. Just when she thinks her arms will legitimately give out, Lincoln calls time. With a sigh of relief, Clarke wobbles to her feet only saved from a faceplant by Lexa’s hand on her shoulder.
“Good effort, soldier. Time for a break.” The brunette gives her a sharp nod and jogs away.
Clarke turns to look for water only to find Finn. He’s giving her a smug, patronizing look. “You lived up to the nickname, princess. You can barely do one pushup.”
“Don’t call me princess.” She shoves past him towards her friends.
Her limbs feel like dead weight. Every muscle in her body is burning. She can’t believe they have to do all that three more times. She should never listen to her friends. As she walks over to them, she sees that Jasper and Monty look a little worse for the wear but are having fun with a water fight. Bellamy, Wells, Octavia, and Raven are sweaty but smiling and energized. Clarke herself may be on the brink of death. She spends the duration of the break holding Wells’ shoulder to remain upright while her friends make conversation.
“The trainer is hot though.” Raven is saying.
“Which one?” Bellamy asks.
“Both.” Octavia chimes in, twisting her head around to leer at the pair of them. There are general nods of agreement from all around.
“The girl is scary.” Is Jasper’s contribution.
“Scary in a hot, commanding kind of way though.” Bellamy says appreciatively.
“Oh, that’s good.” Raven follows up excitedly. “She should be called the Commander.”
“Mmm, she can command me anytime.” Bellamy asserts.
“Don’t get your hopes up, big brother. I don’t think she goes for people with your gender.”
“You think she swings that way?” Jasper asks eagerly, grossly interested in that idea.
“I agree with O on this. The Commander is as gay as the day is long. Probably gayer.” Raven says decisively.
“Maybe we shouldn’t be speculating on people’s sexualities.” Wells tries to redirect the conversation.
Lexa and Lincoln start calling out, cutting off any more foundationless gossip. They hustle back to their stations, well, some of them hustle, others (Clarke) reluctantly drag their feet.
Once again, Clarke is overly hot, dripping sweat, and out of breath. Every time she’s at the pushup station she suddenly finds herself confronted with Lexa. Apparently she’s decided that Clarke needs one-on-one pushup motivation. The blonde doesn’t even bother trying to respond to her, just glowers into her eyes unhappily (God, her eyes are so, so pretty though).
When the circuit is finished, Clarke is horrified to find out that they still have to do a ten minute ab workout and then a team tug-of-war competition followed by stretching. Afterwards she staggers her way home, into the shower, and then into bed. (Lexa had warned them that sleeping right after a workout would only increase their soreness levels, but Clarke stubbornly ignored that advice.) Clarke had never been more grateful to be an artist who makes her own hours as when she snuggled into her heavenly soft pillows. As she drifts off, she tries her best not to think about having to do that workout two more times this week (or Lexa's pretty eyes and full lips).
Nearly three weeks later, Clarke jerks violently awake to the sound of her alarm. She blindly flings her arm out, knocking things over, desperate for the sound to stop. She spends a long moment contemplating surrendering to the sweet call of sleep and forgoing the hell that she knows awaits her. Unfortunately, she knows that her roommates, Bellamy and Wells, will be breaking down the door the door at any moment to drag her to boot camp. Clarke resigns herself to the inevitable and rolls out of bed. The soreness that accompanies the motion has become commonplace in her life.
Clarke isn’t sure who she dreads more, Lexa or Finn. Lexa has continued her insistence on giving Clarke extra motivation, so everytime Clarke is struggling with an exercise Lexa appears out of nowhere to give her some sort of sage guidance that is invariably maddening for Clarke. Really her lack of fitness is frustrating and humiliating enough without the instructor (her incredibly good looking and super fit instructor) giving her advice that could go inside a fortune cookie.
On the other hand, it turns out the groups they picked the first day are the ones they stick with so Raven, Octavia, and her keep being subjected to Finn’s flirtations. He makes comments to all three of them, but primarily focuses on Clarke. It seems he enjoys pissing her off and none of his comments to her come without some sort of subtle or overt insult. Honestly, Clarke has never wanted to knee someone in the balls more.
At least she’s had the pleasure of seeing Lexa drag Finn’s ass once. He had been bragging that morning about his fitness and mocking the fact that a woman was their trainer. Lexa had taken that as a personal challenge and proceeded to wipe the floor with him on every exercise (that and the little smirk Lexa had worn afterwards were insanely attractive). Finn had ended up storming away, red faced and humiliated. Yeah, thinking about that, Lexa has a few points in her favor (more than a few) and Clarke definitely dreads seeing Finn more.
Clarke is barely holding on to her last shreds of self-control when she gets paired up with Finn for a partner exercise this morning. They have to squat facing each other, each holding one end of a resistance band. Then, maintaining the squat position, they have to pull the band back in a rowing motion, providing each other with resistance. Across from her, Finn is winking and flexing his arm muscles to show off. Clarke fixes her eyes on a point far over his shoulder to avoid looking at his smug face.
She’s drifted off into her thoughts when suddenly she feels herself being yanked forward several feet. Clarke collides heavily with Finn’s chest. She instantly tries to shove herself away from him but he wraps an arm around her and keeps them pressed together.
“What the fuck, Finn!?” Her arms are pinned between them so that she can’t get leverage to push away.
“Fancy meeting you like this, princess. I’m really starting to take a liking to your assets.” He squeezes her a little tighter so that her breasts are smashed against his chest.
Clarke squirms furiously, trying to shake him off, panic rising. “Get the fuck off of me!”
“I think I should take the time to get more acquainted with your tits, princess.”
One of his hands slips between them to grope her boob. Clarke’s knee jerk reaction is to literally jerk her knee into his crotch. He howls and releases her, then Bellamy and Wells are there grabbing him holding him back. The next second Lexa is fisting a hand in the front of his shirt, snarling and hauling him away further.
Her friends surround her, huddling in close and nearly suffocating her. Clarke’s breathing is shallow and out of control, her hands are trembling, her stomach is twisting into knots. There had been a terrible second where she felt trapped and helpless and at his mercy. She had thought Finn an annoying, misogynistic, douchebag but mostly a harmless one.
Wells starts pushing people away from her. “Give her room to breathe everybody.”
Clarke forces her eyes shut and takes a deep breath. She concentrates on that, breathing deeply several more times, until her hands stop shaking. “It’s okay, guys. I’m okay.”
Lexa arrives back on the scene in that moment. “Finn’s gone and he won’t be coming back.”
Clarke just nods to her. “Are you okay, Clarke?”
The blonde nods again. “I’m fine.”
“I have his information if you want to press charges.” Lexa catches Clarke’s overwhelmed look and gentles. “You don’t have to decide now, just know that it is an option.”
Clarke sighs and nods, really not wanting to think about it.
“We’re about halfway through this training,” Lexa continues. “If you want to go ahead and take off.”
“I want to stay.” Clarke shakes her head firmly. She really doesn’t want to be alone right now or to have time to think about what just happened.
“Okay, Clarke.” Their eyes meet, Lexa’s shimmering with some gentle admiration Clarke can’t quite wrap her head around. As she turns a jogs off, Clarke feels some of her resentment towards the instructor melt away. (She’s been working really hard to hold on to that resentment in the face of Lexa’s pretty eyes and the soft curves of her lips.)
“Damn, Commander’s got a soft spot for our beautiful bisexual butterfly, Clarkey-pie.”
“Shut up, Raven.”
Another couple of weeks and they’re back at it, sweating and exerting themselves in the glow of early morning.
A bead of sweat drips down into Clarke’s eye, she shakes her head, blinking it away. Her legs feel worn, her calves are tight, her breaths are labored from the warm-up followed by the mile run followed by the jump rope session they completed a few minutes earlier.
Clarke stares Lexa down as she waits for Lincoln to start the clock. Since Finn had been disposed of a few weeks ago, Lexa had started stepping in when the training called for partners. Her usual words of encouragement to the blonde while they partner up make Clarke grit and grind her teeth, wishing for the chance to punch Lexa in the face. (Her advice really has a way of digging beneath Clarke’s skin and even her gorgeous face can’t make up for that.)
Today, she’s getting that wish. Kind of. After the incident with Finn, Lexa and Lincoln had decided to incorporate self-defense and boxing into their workouts. Lexa has really been a pain in the ass this morning so Clarke can't wait to use her as a punching bag.
Lincoln blows the whistle for them to start. Clarke starts the pattern with a right handed jab and follows it up with a left handed cross that has as much power behind it as she can pack. Lexa doesn't even sway an inch off her spot, only giving Clarke a sharp, approving nod.
The blonde glowers back at her, clenching her teeth. She repeats the pattern, jab and cross, throwing more of her weight behind it. The other woman doesn't budge, dammit. Clarke falls into the rhythm of the punches, more and more frustrated as her best hits have no effect on Lexa.
When the whistle blows Clarke drops her hands, panting and resentful.
"Control, Clarke." Lexa tells her. "You have good intensity, but you need to maintain control. Keep your elbows tucked in. Your strikes should be precise."
The blonde gives her no acknowledgement, just waiting for Lincoln to blow the whistle again. (She certainly isn’t admiring the muscles of Lexa’s arms or staring fixedly at the hint of a tattoo peeking out from the sleeve of Lexa’s shirt.) She leaps into action again at the sound of the whistle, renewed determination causing her strikes to land harder. This time it’s hook, hook, uppercut with the left.
“Keep your feet moving.” Lexa tells her as she tires out, still unable to budge Lexa an inch.
When the time comes to an end, Clarke is desperately sucking in air.
“I like your spirit, Clarke. We just need to raise your fitness level to match it.” The instructor observes.
“Thank you for that brilliant observation. I hadn’t noticed.” Clarke spits out spitefully.
“Mockery is not the product of a strong mind, Clarke.” Lexa says calmly with a hint of a smile.
“You would think after a month and a half of this torture I would be improving.”
“You have improved. You ran a mile today in under nine and a half minutes. I have no doubt you couldn’t do that a month ago. It simply takes as long as it takes, Clarke.” Lexa’s expression is infuriatingly serene.
Clarke blazes through the next round with a furious intensity and wild energy that is enough to garner an impressed look from Lexa even if she remains firmly planted in her spot. (That look from those pretty eyes certainly doesn’t cause a thrill pleasure to spike through Clarke’s gut.)
“We’ll switch it up this round. You can hold the pads and I’ll do the punching. Let’s see if I can knock you back, soldier.” The hint of challenge in Lexa’s voice is too tantalizing for Clarke to resist.
The blonde sets her self determinedly, getting a bend in her knees and finding a sure center of balance. She will not let Lexa get the better of her. The brunette goes with the first simple combo, two jabs with the left and a power punch with the right. Clarke fields the two jabs easily with the pads, but is entirely unprepared for Lexa’s right fist streaking towards her like a flash of lightning and nearly knocking her back on her ass. Lexa gives her a second to recover, that damn smirk curling up one corner of her mouth. (She definitely doesn’t imagine feeling that smirk under her own mouth for a split second.) Warily, the blonde resets herself and makes it through the rest of the round with only a couple of minor stumbles.
As Clarke stews frustratedly afterwards, Lexa says, “I’m sorry, Clarke. Taking it easy was not part of the deal.”
“Isn’t part of your job to not piss off the people you train?”
“My job is to get the best out of the people I train.” She replies evenly.
“I think your techniques could use some improvement.” Clarke glares ferociously at her.
“I feel your anger, Clarke.”
“Not yet, you haven’t.” The blonde mutters furiously.
A whistle startles them back into action. Clarke once again trying and failing to cause any damage to Lexa. The anger settles hot in her gut, twisting and knotting savagely. Her punches fly wild and messy. When time is called and the stupid smirk still plays along Lexa’s lips, Clarke loses it. With a fierce cry her gloved fist flies towards Lexa’s face and lands with an audible smack on her prominent cheekbone. The brunette’s head snaps back, caught off guard, and she stumbles back a step. An unstoppable, feral rush of victory and satisfaction powers through Clarke.
Then reality washes back over her abruptly. Holy shit! She just hit someone in the face. Clarke drops her hands and stutters out jumbled apologies as Lexa rights herself. Their eyes lock and Clarke is astonished to find Lexa smiling widely enough that her teeth are showing. (This is the first time Clarke has seen Lexa wear this expression and wow, she’s beautiful.)
“-It’s just that you’re always giving this obnoxious advice and I got frustrated and-” Clarke splutters.
“It’s okay, Clarke.” Lexa cuts her off.
“Really, I’m sorry.”
They make it through the rest of the rounds without incident. Clarke much more subdued and Lexa offering far less advice. When they finish, Lexa catches the blonde’s arm before she can get away for a drink of water, looking mildly apologetic.
“I don’t mean to upset you, Clarke. I push you like this because I’ve seen how you like to be challenged. You try harder when you want to prove yourself and you have a tangible short term goal in front of you.” There’s that signature sharp nod and then Lexa is jogging away. (As Clarke watches her move away, her stomach absolutely is not flipping pleasantly and her eyes are not trailing down to catch a glimpse of the muscles in Lexa’s thighs.)
Today is the halfway mark. Three months of torturous workouts and infuriating (and infuriatingly hot) instructors. Things with Lexa have settled since the day Clarke punched her in the face. The blonde has been keeping a better hold on her emotions and committing more fully to the workouts without being prodded. Lexa has tempered her obnoxious advice with friendly encouragement (and the occasional gorgeous smile that, of course, does not set Clarke’s heart racing).
Clarke is especially surprised to find at this point that she’s beginning to enjoy the workouts. She’s lost some weight and she’s begun seeing hints of muscle definition in her arms, legs, and even abs. The soreness has faded, and overall Clarke feels more energetic and alert. The post-workout endorphins turn out to be fantastic for her creativity. (None of that inspiration comes from a certain stunning fitness instructor, obviously.) She’ll finish up a session and then bury herself in her art for hours, producing some of the best work she’s ever done.
With a pleasant burn and ache in her muscles, Clarke takes her time stretching even after the other participants have packed up and moved on. She relishes the crisp, cool air of early fall and the warmth of the sun, still in the process of emerging from the horizon. The sky is a clear, cloudless blue, the leaves just now showing hints of red, orange, and yellow. She had waved off Wells and Bellamy after the workout because she’s going to head to a park to get some sketching done.
Just as Clarke stands and begins gathering her things, the door of the gym burst open and Lexa emerges with a disjointed straggle of little kids trailing behind her. Clarke watches, her mouth falling open in awe, as Lexa leads them over to the side of the field. Rather than a simply jogging, Lexa hops on one foot several times, then switches to the other foot, next she takes three small bunny hops on both feet, and then she skips along before dropping and rolling several feet. The kids in her wake mirror her movements, hopping, skipping, and rolling into a jumbled mess.
When they finally reach the area of the field that already has cones, boxes, ropes, and hurdles set up, Lexa lines them up and addresses them sternly.
“Alright, superheroes in training, today’s mission is to complete this obstacle course. We will learn the speed, strength, and agility it takes to fight super villains.” The serious look she tries to wear is ruined by the twitching of her lips and the crinkles in the corners of her eyes.
An enthusiastic but squeaky chorus of, “Yes, Lieutenant Lexa!” greets her when she finishes with the instructions. (Clarke’s heart is most definitely melting right now. She can’t even try to deny it.)
The blonde pulls herself back into reality and digs through her bag for her sketchbook. As soon as it’s out she settles in a comfortable spot, still unnoticed, and puts pencil to paper. She quickly fills pages with sketches of the little kids, maybe five or six years old, determinedly making their way through the obstacle course. (Clarke also gets a couple sketches of Lexa standing along side them, trying to hide a smile, giving direction and encouragement.)
After the obstacle course, the brunette organizes a game of freeze tag. The kids manage to convince Lexa to join them in playing the game. The game only ends when the kids decide to gang up on Lexa, surrounding her and hanging off of her until she tumbles to the ground. Clarke gets down a rough sketch of that scene too. While the instructor slowly herds the kids back inside, Clarke reviews her work. She has more than half a dozen quick sketches that she knows she can clean up, add detail to, or turn into paintings.
The door bursting open again, startles Clarke. She peers up and catches sight of Lexa jogging towards her. Apparently she hadn’t gone as unnoticed as she had thought.
Lexa greets her with a quick nod and a tiny grin. “Hello, Clarke.”
“Lieutenant Lexa. What can I do for you today?”
“I noticed you were drawing while you watched. Is that something you do often?” She asked as she took a seat on the ground next to Clarke.
“You could say that. It’s my job, being an artist. I even have a fancy gallery and everything.” The blonde doesn’t even realize that she’s beaming brightly at Lexa.
“That’s very impressive, Clarke. Would you mind- Can I see the drawings you did?” The instructor dips her head bashfully. (Clarke’s heart is melting again and this time she can’t blame it on the kids.)
Quietly the artist passes her sketchbook over, nerves bubbling up inside of her as Lexa gently handles the book. “These are just rough sketches.”
Lexa studies them intently, her brow furrowed and her lips pouting slightly. After several long moments of silence, she lifts her eyes to Clarke. “These are incredible, Clarke.” She has that same soft, happy smile she was wearing with the kids earlier.
Clarke breaks into a relieved grin. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, you are very talented.”
They spend a few long seconds gazing into each other’s eyes, before Lexa stands, explaining that she has to get back to work.
Clarke watches her go, her heart fluttering. (She can’t deny any longer that she has a massive crush on her fitness instructor.)
The cool breeze blowing off the Atlantic ocean and over her skin, carrying the smell of salt and sea with it, is the only enjoyable thing going on this morning. Lexa and Lincoln decided to take advantage of one of the last fair weather days of the year to do a beach workout. Clarke has discovered that beach workouts are hell.
The sand slips and slides unhelpfully under her feet as she lunges, her muscles protest in a way they haven’t since the first month of training. Sweat is dripping off of her, her hair is a tangled mess in the breeze, and her cheeks are glowing red, while she pants heavily.
When the time is up for the lunges, she labors into an upright position and turns to catch sight of Lexa, looking fit as ever demonstrating an exercise without breaking a sweat. Clarke takes it back - there are two enjoyable things going on this morning. The way Lexa’s leg and arm muscles flex, the way she frowns with serious concentration, the way her curly locks get tangled in the wind; it’s all very compelling.
Since that day with the kids and the drawing, Clarke has turned into a disaster in front of Lexa. She can’t go one session without doing or saying something foolish and of course her friends have picked up on her less than smooth demeanor. It hasn’t been a good month for Clarke.
When the whistle blows again, Clarke sighs and lurches into motion. This is the last rotation she reminds herself. As she shuffles agonizingly across the beach, Lexa moves towards her.
“Butt down, soldier. You need to get lower.”
Clarke grits her teeth and sinks lower into the shuffles. Her quads and glutes are screaming in protest. Then Lexa is shuffling across from her, mirroring her motion.
“Twenty more seconds” The blonde’s heart jolts for a reason that has nothing to do with shuffles and everything to do with the pretty grey eyes boring into her.
“Stay down, Clarke. Ten more seconds.”
The ten seconds seem to stretch out for minutes as she shuffles back and forth. Finally the whistle blows. Clarke immediately fall backwards onto the sand, starfishing.
Lexa chuckles and grins at her. After a moment she holds out a hand and helps Clarke up. The slid of her warm palm against Clarke’s is entirely pleasant even with the sweat. (Mostly Clarke’s sweat.)
They move together over to where Clarke’s friends are huddled because Lincoln is standing with them. Or more accurately, Lincoln is standing with Octavia, who has been an incessant flirt. In fact, when they reach the group, Octavia is in the process of flirting, running her hand over Lincoln’s biceps.
“So Lincoln, between you and Lexa, who do you think is fitter? My money is on you.”
The well built man shrugs a bit, smoothing a hand over his shaved head. “I think it’s probably Lexa actually.” He seems both incredibly pleased with Octavia’s attention and bashful about it.
Clarke raises her eyebrows and glances to the woman in question. She is smirking confidently. “It’s definitely me, Lincoln.”
Raven jumps in. “Well if that’s true, prove it, Commander.”
The rest of the group jumps in to agree, even as Lexa and Lincoln shake their heads. The brunette turns to Clarke looking for help.
Clarke just shrugs. “You made the claim, Lexa. Now back it up.”
There’s a moment of deliberation and then they gather everyone up and head over to a small platform on the beach with a set of pull up bars and parallel bars on it.
As they walk, Clarke leans in towards Lexa. “Can you really beat him?”
Lexa favors her with a smirk and a quirk of her eyebrow. “I guess you’re about to find out, Clarke.”
Lincoln takes the opportunity to show off first, pulling his shirt over his head and stepping up to the bars. Octavia gives a low whistle beside Clarke. “Damn, look at those abs.”
Lincoln take a firm hold on the bar and lifts himself up to do a series of pull-up, launching himself off the bar to clap between reps.
“That was so hot. He’s so hot.” Octavia murmurs, watching him closely.
“Lexa’s hotter.” Bellamy says.
“Group vote, which one is hotter?” Raven asks. “My vote’s with Lincoln.
Wells and Jasper side with Bellamy, while Monty casts his vote with Raven and Octavia.
By now Lincoln has finished and when he drops back to the ground, the group gives him an impressed round of applause. Clarke watches Lexa curious as to how she will follow that up.
“Down to you, Clarke, our bisexual babe. Lexa or Lincoln?” Raven pokes her in the side.
Clarke ignores her though because, holy hell, Lexa has just pulled off her shirt. Suddenly the blonde’s heart is pounding and her mouth is dry. Nearly all of Lexa’s back is covered with a tattoo, in addition to the tattoo on her bicep and Lexa’s abs are just as impressive as Lincoln’s. (In Clarke’s opinion, Lexa’s abs are more impressive.)
Raven prods her in the side again. “Clarke, why are you making your ‘I’m so horny’ face?”
Clarke can’t breath let alone speak as she watches Lexa take a hold of the bar with one hand. Like it’s nothing, Lexa starts banging out one armed pull ups, and Clarke’s jaw drops.
Raven starts laughing next to her when she figures it out. “I guess that’s our answer. Clarke votes Lexa. And now that I’ve seen her abs, I might revise my answer.”
Monty agrees and changes his vote, but Clarke isn’t aware of anything outside of the flex of Lexa’s muscles and the vast expanse of bare skin available to her eyes. With each pull-up her abs tighten deliciously. Lexa does the same number with both arms before dropping back to the ground to rousing cheers.
Octavia grudgingly concedes, “Okay, Clarke, the girl you’ve been drooling over for months is hot. I’ll give her that, but does she ever smile?”
“I have not been drooling!” Clarke exclaims defensively. “And she does smile.”
“Yeah, heart-eyes over there smiles at you, Clarke, but not anyone else.”
Clarke ignores her friends determinedly as Lincoln steps back up. This time he holds his entire body parallel to the ground, back facing down as he does pull ups. Lexa shakes her head, unimpressed.
When she approaches the bar again, she starts by copying Lincoln’s move, but then she twists herself around so that she hangs parallel to the ground with her stomach facing down. Somehow in that position she manages to do a sort of reverse pull-up that speaks to her flexibility. (Clarke wonders if her legs have that same flexibility.)
Bellamy laughs. “Your boy is getting beat, little sis.”
“He’s still hotter. And I at least have a date with him, unlike Clarke who would prefer to fantasize from a distance.”
“Hey, I haven’t been fantasizing about her!” The blonde exclaims.
“Sure you aren’t, Griffin.” Raven says. “Wells looks like he might have something to say about that.”
Clarke whips around to look incredulously at Wells who is shuffling awkwardly and not meeting anyone’s eye. Eventually he clears his throat and gives Clarke an apologetic look. “You should probably play some music when you masturbate, Clarke. The walls are not soundproof.”
The blonde flushes a horrible splotchy shade of red and she wishes she could disappear. She focuses on the bars where Lincoln is back at it, doing an awe-inspiring set of handstand pushups on the bar.
When he drops back to the ground, Lexa says, “Alright, let’s finish this. Give me some music.”
The two deliberate for a minute, before Lexa is satisfied with the song. When the music starts up Lexa pulls back up on the bar with one arm. Then she’s practically gliding through the air, stepping from side to side and flowing with the beat. It looks effortless and powerful as she walks on air, stepping up into a plank position and back down. She does a couple flips and twirls around the bar for show, before lifting herself up to the handstand position Lincoln had taken. Lexa does a quick couple of pushups there before maneuvering to the side of the bar. She holds herself there sideways and perpendicular to the ground before dismounting. She greets the cheers and applause with a little bow and a genuine smile. (Clarke may never recover from this.)
An elbow jabs harshly into Clarke’s side. “She would be an incredible pole dancer. You sure have plenty of fantasy material now.”
“Shut up, Raven.”
Today is the day. Today is the day, Clarke tells herself as she looks into the mirror. She’s going to ask Lexa out. They flirt all the time and have intense bouts of eye-contact that have Clarke’s friends mocking her. Yes, today is the day. Clarke has been putting this off for a while (a couple months), but no longer. She is going to do it. This is the last day of the six month boot camp so at least Clarke knows that if she gets rejected she won’t ever have to see Lexa again.
The blonde shakes her head at herself. Positive thoughts! Lexa is going to say yes. All the flirting and the smiling and the heart-eyes can’t have been for nothing. Clarke just needs to be confident and Lexa will say yes.
Nearly two hours later, Clarke is not feeling so confident. The workout has been brutal; Lexa and Lincoln were not taking it easy on the last day. Clarke is winded in a way she hasn’t been since the beach workout a couple months ago and she’s feeling a little queasy. Is the queasiness a product of the workout or her nerves? Clarke doesn’t know, but either way it’s bad. Plus the workout had destroyed her carefully crafted braid and turned her face an unattractive shade of red.
It’s too late to do anything about that now though. Clarke is being shoved in Lexa’s direction by her friends. Hesitantly, Clarke makes her way over to where Lexa is packing up the equipment. Lexa lifts her head up, as she’s walking towards her, and gives her a soft smile. The blonde’s heart lurches in a way that is entirely pleasant but riddled with nerves.
“Hey, Lexa.” She starts.
“Clarke.” The trainer tips her head in subtle acknowledgement.
“I’m glad my friends made me sign up for this. Training with you- It’s been fun. It’s been good.” Her eyes flutter shut briefly as she sighs. Has she ever sounded more awkward in her life?
Lexa presses her lips together to restrain a laugh. “It has been good. Which is why I need to talk to you about something.”
“What’s that?” Clarke’s stomach flutters wildly. Is Lexa going to ask her out?
“You haven’t signed up to continue the class. Is there a reason you’re dropping the class?”
Nope, Lexa was not asking her out. Clarke fights down her disappointment and refocuses. “There’s something I want to do before I sign up again.”
Lexa quirks an eyebrow at her, momentarily distracting the blonde.
“I want to ask you out.” Clarke declares.
The trainer straightens, directing all of her intense focus on Clarke. That look is both intimidating and sexy.
“Well?” Lexa prompts her.
Clarke takes a deep breath. “Will you go on a date with me?”
Lexa gives her the brightest grin she’s ever seen. “Yes, Clarke.”
The blonde grins back, feeling floaty and happy and overwhelmed. (Turns out her super fit, super gorgeous fitness instructor has a huge crush on her too.)