Bacon and Tissues
Ta-Da! This is for Jude81, who gave me this idea as we steamed over the possible death of Lexa and the failures of OUAT. Please give Jude a huge round of applause because she is 1. Fucking hilarious and 2. The best muse for total crack mixed in with a desperate attempt at some sort of storyline and avoidance of OOC-ness.
I wish you guys could see the conversation we had, it was so epically weird and was just the perfect mix of 'are we in our right minds' and 'yep, this is what we do nowadays'. It was hilarious, and I hope you find the story to be the same! I have issues writing crack for some reason, I think I'm just sane enough to have an issue, or I'm just a weirdo... yeah I'm leaning towards the latter XD Let me know what you thought of this... thing. Never written crack! before!
(Also! Neither me nor Jude81 know what the exclamation point is for in things like crack!fic or magic!baby and stuff like that. Can someone explain?)
When Lexa awoke, she instantly knew that something was wrong. Her breathe was heavy, her nose was clogged and her sinuses ached, hell, her whole body ached! Her headache and general stuffiness made her feel like total crap. Only a month after the defeat of Mount Weather and she was already met with another enormous challenge: Getting over her sickness. Lexa hated being sick, and she rarely was. The last time she was sick she had been twelve, adventuring through the forests with Anya where she had been caught in the rain and developed a terrible cold. That had to have been one of the worst weeks of her life, and she had three eight inch long gashes along her abs that came from a mutant tiger! Her intestines had nearly poured from her body, yet she would stand by her statement that being sick was the worst experience of her life.
She fucking hated the winter.
She was cold, she was hungry, she was tired, her head hurt and her body ached.
But the worst part of it all?
She was supposed to take Clarke out today, for their first date.
Fucking winter and it's abilities to make her sick.
Lexa groaned, tossing her head back against her favorite bearskin blanket. It was so fucking hot, and she was so damn cold.
This could not possibly get any worse.
"Lexa?"
Fuck. It got worse.
While Lexa loved that Clarke cared for her, she could not let the artist see her like this. Lexa lurched into a sitting position, unable to suppress a groan as she felt a spike in her headache.
Clarke pushed aside the flaps of Lexa's tent the moment she heard the girl groan, worried that something had occurred to her during the night. When Clarke laid her eyes on the Commander, she had to cover her mouth with her hands to suppress her inevitable giggles. Lexa was staring at her in literal sick defiance, because Lexa was definitely suffering from some sort of cold.
One look at Clarke told Lexa that she wouldn't be able to cover up the fact that she was sick. Lexa sighed, sniffling as her sinuses acted up. Then, to top it all off, her chest heaved as she gave deep, painful coughs.
Clarke gave a soft "Aww. The Great Commander Lexa has a cold! This is so cute!"
Lexa fixed Clarke with a bored stare, her face entirely impassive as commented in a monotone voice, "Oh, is it now?"
Clarke smiled, biting her lip as she nodded. "It really is, because you're usually so macho and on top that I had come to think that you couldn't get sick!" Clarke came over to where Lexa sat, snuggled under a warm cloth blanket. She booped the Commander's nose as she cooed teasingly, "But Little Lexa can get sick can't she! Yes she can! Aw you look so cute you little-"
It's amazing what a pillow to the face can do to a mind-numbing conversation.
However, Clarke continued to coo into the blanket, wildly waving her arms about in a dramatic fashion, slapping Lexa in the face.
"Clarke!" She barked, voice ever so slightly nasally due to her messed up sinuses. Lexa removed the pillow, and Clarke grinned. "What?" Lexa snapped.
"I get to take care of you." Clarke said cheekily, "That's a pretty good first date, don'cha think?
Lexa groaned, falling flat against her pillows. "I was going to take you swimming at this beautiful lake, maybe twenty miles from Camp Jaha," She muttered, palms covering her eyes.
"Really?" Clarke asked, smiling at the thought. Lexa nodded, never removing her palms from her eyes.
"Yes. Then we were going to have hot, steamy sex on a blanket."
Clarke moaned, "Really?"
"No."
"Asshole!"
Lexa groaned, "Not so loud!"
Clarke side, and patted Lexa's knee, "How can I help, Lexa? I'm going to get you a cold compress, but what else do you need."
"Bacon."
"Bacon?"
"Bacon."
"Bacon?"
"Bacon. And grease. Bacon grease."
"Bacon grease?"
"Bacon grease."
"Bacon grease?"
"Clarke."
"Yes?"
"Get me the bacon, and the grease, bacon grease."
Clarke looked at the Commander like she was crazy, blue eyes wide as she questioned Lexa's sanity. The Sky Princess shrugged, whatever Lexa wanted.
Step one? Get someone to kill a pig.
Clarke stuck her head out of the flaps of the tent, looking around for someone familiar. She sighed in relief when she spotted Lincoln, and shouted for him. "Lincoln! Lincoln I need you to do me a favor!"
Lincoln jogged over to Clarke, "What is it?"
Clarke gestured for him to come closer before she said quietly, "Lexa's sick and she wants bacon and bacon grease."
Lincoln's laughter rang out loud and clear, tears forming in his eyes as he nodded, "Sure, I can do that."
Clarke nodded in thanks before ducking back inside the tent, ignoring the guards' curious stares.
However, as Lincoln walked away from Clarke's tent, his tears of laughter turned into honest, emotional tears of sadness. He wept as he walked until he bumped right into Octavia, who gasped at the blubbering mess she called her boyfriend.
"What's wrong?" Octavia asked, worried.
"C-Clarke wants me t-to KILL SIR FRANCIS!" Lincoln sobbed, falling to his knees in the mud.
Octavia rolled her eyes.
My boyfriend is such a pain in the ass.
"Who the fuck is Sir Francis?"
"Remember Piggy?"
"The pig you were overly attached to as a child?"
"Yeah, that one. They renamed him Sir Francis."
"So?"
"Lexa's sick and wants bacon and bacon grease."
"Oh."
"I can't kill him, Octavia, I love him!"
Octavia sighed, she was really losing her patience. "Fine," she growled, "I'll do it for you. Where can I find him?"
"They penned him up, but it's over an acre of mud-land. You'll have to catch him." Lincoln explained, sniffling as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.
Holy shit and I thought I had a macho boyfriend.
"Fine," Octavia growled again, and she stalked off, leaving Lincoln alone as it began to drizzle.
"WHY SIR FRANCIS!" He cried, staring up into the dark sky, "WHY!?"
When Octavia reached the acre of mud-land, her arms fell limp against her sides as she sighed hopelessly.
"This day is just warming up to be one giant cluster-fuck isn't it?"
"What is a cluster-fuck, Octavia?"
Octavia screamed, jumping a good meter in the air as she clutched her chest in shock. She whirled around, gasping for breath as she realized it was only Indra.
"Holy shit Indra! My heart almost fell out of my ass I was so scared. Don't do that!"
Indra smirked gently, "My apologies, Octavia. I heard Lincoln crying about that enormous beastly pig we keep here. Finally someone wants bacon so we can be rid of the fat menace. Do you require assistance?"
Octavia sighed in relief, "Yes, please."
"GO LEFT" Indra shouted, scrambling through the foot-deep mud that littered the acre of soiled territory, "NO! MY LEFT!"
Octavia scrambled to turn, desperately lifting her legs in an attempt to run through the mud. She slid, landing on her side as her new leather jacket was coated in mud and pig shit. She let out a high pitch, whining groan before growling in frustration, slapping the mud. She then screamed as Sir Francis ran right beside her, kicking mud up into her face. Octavia pouted, spitting out the nasty tasting mud and crap mixture.
Sir Francis was, on all levels and planes of existence, fucking huge. His head, which was level with his back, was just below Octavia's chest in height. He was fat, round like a sausage and twice as wide as Lincoln's shoulders. Thanks to the nuclear radiation, he had eight thick, stubby legs. His eyes were, surprisingly enough, a nice, soft brown. The creepy part was that he had four of them.
Yep, her boyfriend loved a mutant, four-eyed eight-legged pig that lived in an acre of mud and shit. Octavia slumped down, resting for moment as she sighed, maybe dating a girl would be better? She should chat up Raven.
"This day is just mounting up to be one giant cluster-fuck," Octavia muttered unhappily, her mood quickly darkening as the rain grew heavier.
"GET UP OCTAVIA!" Indra shouted, gripping Sir Francis' thick, curly tail as she stood leaning back, skating across the top of the mud on her boots like a water-skier. Sir Francis dragged her about the pen, and Octavia could only watch helplessly, unable to move fast enough through the brown sludge.
Every few moments, when Indra would pass by, she would shout a singular word at Octavia before being dragged away.
"OCTAVIA-"
"MOVE-"
"LEFT-"
"YOUR-"
"LEFT-"
"HOLYSHIT-"
"MOVE-"
"FASTER-"
"AAAAH!-"
Octavia and Sir Francis had a good old stare down, Sir Francis charging towards her, pulling Indra along shouting expletives. Octavia only moved to unsheathe her sword, her cheek slathered in mud as she moved to wipe sweat from her jaw.
Octavia waited until the last minute, with Sir Francis only feet away before she leaped to the side, swinging her blade in a perfect ark directly up at the sky.
Sir Francis fell with a plop, his head severed clean from his body.
Octavia raised her blood covered sword and shouted in victory and relief, pigs blood splattered along her arm and her neck.
When she lowered her sword, breath heavy, she was shocked to find Lincoln standing by the thick wooden fence that once kept Sir Francis contained. Tears rolled down his cheeks, only to mix with the rain that grew heavier by the minute. Lincoln shook his head, wiping angrily at his right eye before he turned away, only to start sprinting into the forest, ignoring Octavia's shouts.
Octavia growled, muttering "What a pathetic man, crying as though he were babe over a bloody pig."
Indra gave a heaving sigh, clapping Octavia on the shoulder, "Men are not what the rumors would say. Find a good woman Octavia, there are many within the Trigedakru and the Skaikru you could pick from."
Octavia smiled, thinking of her favorite engineer. "I have one in mind."
Lexa groaned, having been blessed with a momentary pause in her Earth-shaking coughs. Clarke sighed, looking at the woman apologetically as she wiped at her unusually hot forehead with a cold rag.
"You have a fever," Clarke stated simply, dipping the rag back into a bucket of cold water by her feet.
"No shit!" Lexa groaned, trying and failing to sit up. "I need bacon, and bacon grease."
"Why the hell do you need that stuff?!" Clarke cried, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation, "You're such a weirdo when you're sick!"
"Just get me the bacon and the bacon grease!" Lexa cried, slapping her own cheeks and leaving her palms there, eyes wide, "Why can't you just do this one thing for me?!"
Clarke groaned, shouting "Lincoln is getting you the bacon stuff!"
Lexa smiled happily, sitting up to press a warm kiss to Clarke's cheek before laid back, snuggling under the covers to close her eyes, finally able to rest. Clarke pushed a strand of hair out of the way of Lexa's face, tucking it behind her ear. Of course she would love the weirdest and the cutest of them all.
Octavia smiled victoriously as she helped Indra turn the spit they had skewered Sir Francis with over an open flame. The fire was roaring as Indra poured a bit of flavorful alcohol over the roasting pig.
"It'll make him taste far better," Indra explained at Octavia's raised eyebrow. The brunette nodded, watching Sir Francis turn a delicious golden brown. She licked her lips, he would taste delicious.
"Come, Octavia, and help me fry the flank we took so that Lexa can have her bacon."
"Coming!" Octavia called, taking a swig from the flask Indra had used just moments prior, it tasted delicious.
Of course, neither woman realized that they were still covered in a mixture of mud and pig shit.
When Octavia opened the flaps to Lexa's tent, she was weighted down by a tray laden with strips of fresh, crispy bacon. Indra followed soon after, lugging a large clay jar filled to the brim with extremely warm, fattening bacon grease.
"Here you go," Octavia grumbled, setting down the heavy platter on a small table beside Lexa's bed. Beside the platter, Indra placed the jar of bacon grease. Both women huffed, rotating their shoulders to rid themselves of the ache born from carrying the large loads.
"Thanks guys, did Lincoln actually kill the pig?" Clarke asked, raising a blonde eyebrow, "Because I expected him to bring me the stuff."
"Nah, I had to," Octavia said, smirking. "I always bring in the stuff, Lincoln doesn't know how to handle the stuff."
"I feel like we're talking about drugs."
"Pfft, I wish we were talking about drugs. No, just good 'ole fattening bacon."
With that, Octavia and Indra left with quick goodbyes, leaving Clarke alone with a sleeping Commander and a pile of steaming, hot bacon.
Clarke licked her lips, staring at the mound of bacon that littered the steel platter. A hungry gleam shone in dark blue eyes as she pursed her lips in thought.
Lexa won't mind if I have just one piece...
Fifteen minutes later, Lexa awoke to find Clarke devouring her plate of bacon.
"NO!" Lexa shouted, about to leap out from beneath the covers, only to fall back with wince as her headache came back in full force. She managed to croak out "No..." Before falling back asleep, her outstretched hand falling limp against her favorite bearskin.
Clarke giggled, dipping her finger in the jar of still-warm bacon grease. She had an evil idea...
"LINCOOLNNN!" Octavia called, walking through the forest, sword unsheathed as she trudged through the mud, rain slapping the sides of her face unforgivingly. She needed to find this idiot before he got himself or someone else killed with his little crybaby antics.
Octavia growled, only to scream as she was tackled into the mud by some giant weirdo wearing a black hood. She delivered a swift kick to his chest, launching the figure back several feet and more importantly, off of her. The figure's hood fell off, and Octavia gasped.
"Lincoln?!"
The fearsome Grounder's lower lip quivered, his eyes full of tears as he cried out, "YOU KILLED SIR FRANCIS!"
Octavia's nostrils flared as she bared her teeth slightly, positively ticked off. "YOU ASKED ME TO "CUZ YOU WERE TOO MUCH OF A PUSS TO DO IT!"
Lincoln stood tall, back arched back slightly, "How. Dare. You."
"Don't start with that verbal diarrhea shit Lincoln. Pauses like that are not good for dramatic effect, they're good for when you're taking a crap and you can't express that you need toilet paper."
The quivering in Lincoln's lip intensified, and he gave a soft sob, turning away from his girlfriend. His eyes hardened, former girlfriend.
"We're done, Octavia," Lincoln said raggedly, refusing to turn back to look her in the eye.
Octavia looked affronted, before sucking her teeth, "Aw shucks, beat me to the punch! Thanks for that Lincoln, now me and Raven can get together. Bai!"
With that, Octavia skipped away, waving her sword wildly about above her head.
At one point, however, her sword flew from her hand, impaling something in the underbrush that died with a "Squawk!"
Octavia yanked her sword out from the underbrush, the animal she had murdered still impaled on the black steel blade.
"Shit!" She hissed. She had impaled a five-legged chicken, a prized animal among the Trigedakru.
Three legs rested on the chickens back, standing upright stiffly in a half circle, while two were attached like a normal chicken's legs. The five-legged chickens were large, standing at over two feet tall with strong, fast legs. Octavia had killed a baby, because the chicken was blue in color. The chicken would turn a dark brown when it hit puberty. It was weird as shit, but Octavia soon learned that everything on the ground was weird as shit.
Octavia looked up when she heard rusting, and her eyes widened. "Shit!" She hissed once more.
The baby chicken's flock was only mere meters away, and they had murder in their eyes.
'Yep, this day just keeps becoming more and more of shit-storm.
The enormous flock stepped forward, and a massive, white male chicken, standing at three feet tall with six legs, stepped in front of the rest of the flock. Octavia swallowed, gripping her blade tightly as she jerked it, launching the dead chicken into the air.
Nah, definitely a cluster-fuck.
Clarke hadn't stopped giggling, and it got to the point where she was almost scream-laughing into a fit of insanity. Why was she doing this? Very interesting questions call for very interesting answers.
Clarke had, for the past four minutes, been continuously dipping her pointer finger in the thick, sloppy grease that Indra and Octavia had brought in. Now what she did with that finger was quite... unusual, but pleasurable for her.
No. Not that. Disgusting.
She took her grease-coated finger, and carefully drew on Lexa's sleeping face, making her tan skin glisten as it was covered in the fatty substance of Sir Francis. With a soft finger, Clark drew on Lexa's classic, scary war-paint. Lexa always looked so terrifying and hot with it on, so now, Clarke was able to lose her fear of it and come back later to lick off the new edible war-paint. She gasped when Lexa began to murmur, slowly awakening.
The blonde began to panic, sticking her grease covered finger in her mouth to hide the evidence, as though the platter of bacon wasn't already enough to convict her of the crime of eating the Commander's food. But just as Lexa's eyes opened blearily, Octavia burst into the large tent, sporting a headdress made of blue, brown and white feathers that stuck to her upright hair, which was kept up with a mixture of thick sludge, mud and pig shit. A feather barely held on to Octavia's nose, and she spat it away, shaking her now monstrous head.
"I'm so tired of these fucking birds!" the now single woman growled, body vibrating in anger. Her black steel blade was clenched in her right hand, and it too was covered in severed feathers, with spattering's of purple chicken blood because yeah, chickens had goddamn purple blood that stained. "I sent out a war party to go kill some of those feathered bastards. We'll be having a shit-ton of chicken legs for dinner."
Lexa just stared at Octavia, her sleepy state giving her no clue as to who this feathered nutcase actually was. "What the fuck are you?"
Octavia raised an eyebrow, which in turn lifted several feathers that acted as an eyebrow, "More like who. I'm the chick that got you your goddamn-" Octavia caught sight of Lexa's war-grease, and let out a loud cackle, tossing her enormous, feathered head back as she immersed herself in glee.
Lexa raised an eyebrow, which in turn shifted a small glop of the grease that had pooled above her dark brow. It dripped down the side of Lexa's nose, and instantly her face darkened.
"Clarke," Lexa growled, her headache almost non-existent before, but now she could feel it coming back on. "What did you put on my face?"
Clarke bit her lip, face turning red as she struggled to hide in her laughter.
"Clarke!"
"I put grease!" Clarke squealed, accepting a high-five from a still cackling and shit covered Octavia.
Lexa sighed, face-palming only to groan as she realized that now, her entire palm and her favorite fingerless glove was soaked with the essence of Sir Francis.
"Get me a tissue please," Lexa asked quietly, entirely too tired to care anymore.
"Lexa, you don't need a tissue silly!" Clarke teased, climbing up to straddle Lexa's thighs, "I can just use my tongue!"
Clarke leaned down, prepared to lick Lexa's cheek to rid it of the absolutely delicious grease.
"NO!" Lexa shouted, putting her palm on Clarke's forehead, forcing the girl back as she waved her arms wildly, huffing.
Octavia just stood there, shit and feather headdress and all, cackling.
"I said I wanted a tissue dammit!"
WTF did I just write? I feel like I've really downgraded from my old standards... shit XD Yeah, so I skipped school today, so you guys get a chappie for Unwritten in an hour. This was just some crack that I had started last night with Jude81. This was actually supposed to be a cute little one-shot where Clarke takes care of Lexa 'cuz she's sick and Lexa tells Clarke about how her dad would always make her bacon whenever she was ill... then Jude told dared me to use Bacon and 'Cluster-fuck' at least 3x then pig shit came into the conversation, then Sir Francis then bacon GREASE and any hopes of a cute fluffy one-shot flew out the window.
XD Would you guys actually like a fluffy little one-shot like that? No crack whatsoever and it'll be really sweet. I can add it on to this or it can be a separate, serious story that won't have you going 'TF...'
BONUS POINTS IF YOU GET THE SIR FRANCIS JOKE.
Bai Guys!
