Word Count: 3,100
Rating: G+/T
AN: Here we go~ This is a mash up of prompts that were narrowed down to - Belarke + costume party + coincidentally them being 2 characters of a superhero duo.
You vs. Me
ONE
The first time Clarke went to a Halloween party, she was eight and had just met her best friend – Octavia. The month prior, Clarke had been sitting in the cafeteria eating a strawberry pudding one of the nurses had given her. It was then when she got to know Octavia or more like Octavia came to Clarke and stared at her pudding until Clarke unhappily shared.
It was an instant unbreakable bond formed over smudged pudding, plastic spoons and the smell of bleach. If nothing else it was quite memorable.
Especially when little Octavia deemed Clarke to be "cool enough" to be invited to her Halloween party. Never before having attended one, Clarke begged her mom until Abby gave in and granted her permission on the condition that she was to be accompanied by one of her parents.
Clarke was over the moon with happiness.
Her very first Halloween party! With candies and pumpkin pies, sugar glazed apples and silly looking paper spiders!
It was a dream come true!
And in true Clarke fashion, she spent very long time thinking on her costume.
Clarke didn't want to be just another angel or a Tinker Bell, she was too old to be a ladybug and a witch or a princess didn't suit her (or so she liked to believe).
She wanted to be somebody smart and little sly, but good at heart and cute. Her mother used to laugh at her wrinkled forehead as Clarke stood in the kitchen going over her possible choices. In the end, she went with something simple but effective – she was going to be the Little Red Ridinghood!
In the beginning, Little Red never suspected the wolf, and stopped here and there to gather flowers for her sick grandma; but she was also smart enough to recognize the wolf that was impersonating her grandma later on, and had also managed to outwit him and save her grandmother with the help of the hunter!
It was perfect, really, genius!
So, with her mother's help, Clarke made a soft red cloak, with a beautiful hood that laid gently over her blond tresses. Then, with some glue and paper flowers, she had the best candy basket in the whole neighbourhood.
And oh, how much fun she had with her new friend! The party was great, there were so many other kids (but her costume was the best), and there were fuzzy drinks and chocolate in the form of bats! How awesome was that?
Clarke was having such a good time on her first Halloween party.
Until she was introduced to Octavia's older brother, Bellamy.
Bellamy, who coincidentally had wolf ears, sharp fake fangs and wickedly looking claws, with one long artfully created gash across his face.
He wasted no time in ridiculing her costume. 'Big Bad' he called himself, a werewolf on the hunt for little innocent girls to eat; just like her.
Clarke argued that statement – the wolf had been defeated in the end and Little Red was a hero! How dare he!
But then he just smiled, lips stretching around the fangs, and whispered a secret in her ear.
"In the original tale," he said quietly and Clarke had to lean closer to hear him. "The wolf eats Little Red just like he had swallowed her grandmother before that."
To say that little Clarke was upset would be lightly put.
Even years later her dad would love to tell the story of how Clarke had gotten home, angry tears running down her face, determined to prove that the mean boy was wrong and that the Little Red Ridinghood lived happily ever after!
Oh, and the fuming she had done after she discovered that the boy had been right.
It didn't help that she had lost her favourite pair of silver earrings that night.
Her mother still had pictures of her pouting face.
TWO
The next time Bellamy kinda ruined her Halloween was five years later.
Clarke had just recently gotten into Greek and Roman mythology, mostly thanks to the Mummy movies (they were awesome, ok? nothing you could say would change her mind, like ever).
Getting immersed in Ancient Greece, Clarke loved the story about the Trojan War. Iliad and Odysseus weren't really to her taste but the historical side of the war – the tragedy, the loss, the cunning side of the Greeks as they used a wooden horse to win the war (and who was stupid enough to let that thing in their town unobserved?). Some of the things in it didn't make sense to Clarke's logical side but she liked it for the bravery of the characters, for their honesty and pride, for their strength and weaknesses, she liked it because she believed that there were many things people could learn from those stories of old.
Picking a Halloween costume had been a hard choice that year, even more so than before. She knew she wanted to be a character from the Trojan War but the only female was Helen and Clarke had both positive and negative feelings towards her; after all, Helen had been bewitched by Aphrodite to fall in love with Paris and leave her husband behind but she was also at fault for not leaving Paris and getting back to Menelaus to stop the war. She had been a victim, yes, but she had also stood back and watched the war wage on.
This thing called love was still incomprehensible for Clarke.
Helen's duty to her people should have come first, right?
Anyway, back to the topic at hand.
That year Octavia had decided to go as Cleopatra – another strong but flawed female figure of the Greek history (Clarke liked to believe that exactly her flaws made her so awe-inspiring and interesting, they made her human).
So, with some grumbling, Clarke decided to go as Helen.
The white dress draped around her small body down to her sandal-covered feet, a perfect replica of the ancient Greek gowns. Clarke had spray-painted some tin-platted bangles in gold, and put together a small tiara made of leaves, also painted gold, with few purple jewels for accents. Her hair was curled and she had a thin golden belt around her waist. All in all, Clarke ended up immensely liking the end result.
She might not like Helen much, but she loved her outfit.
Until Bellamy waltzed in the living room and stopped and stared.
Clarke had fidgeted but she had also been proud of her work and she knew her costume deserved praising.
And then Bellamy snorted.
Clarke narrowed her eyes.
"What?"
He smirked. "Figures you'll go for the damsel-in-distress character."
"Do you know who I am?"
Bellamy rolled his eyes at her. "Helen, obviously."
Clarke stuck her chin forward. "And who are you supposed to be?"
He gaped at her and showed her his shield – Clarke absently noted the rather detailed painting of what she now suspected was supposed to be Achilles' shield.
"Really? You don't fit him at all."
He huffed, clearly offended. "Yeah, well, better than me being the cause of a war that went on for ten years and then being stupid enough to accept a wooden horse as a sign of my enemy's surrender."
Clarke gapped – he had a right, she had been thinking the same thing when she had reached that point of the story, but still – he didn't have to be so rude about it. Before she could regroup to send a scanting remark back, he was already gone.
That night, while tossing and turning in her bed, Clarke admitted that she had been wrong.
Bellamy was exactly like Achilles – stubborn, proud, and arrogant and with one weak spot that Clarke was going to find and make his life a living hell.
You just wait and see.
THREE
The third time Bellamy made her lose sleep, Clarke was seventeen and he was nineteen.
That time, for Octavia's annual Halloween party, Clarke had dressed up as Gwen Stacy from the Spider-man universe, Emma Stone style.
Gwen was extremely intelligent and resourceful, brave and caring, and while she had been in love with Peter Parker, she also had the inner strength to try and leave him and do what was best for her life when things between the two of them weren't really working out. Her tragic death was something Clarke would always be sad about, but she hoped one day to be a person worthy of admiration and to inspire people the same way Gwen's speech about hope and life had helped Peter put aside his guilt and misery.
Her costume consisted of a lab coat she had nicked off her mother thrown over a simple black shirt and a pair of dark jeans, written on front of it with big block letters was Oscorp. A folder with some fake documents in her hand was her only prop. Her hair was up in a simple ponytail and she had her bangs done exclusively for Gwen's character.
It didn't appear much but over the course of the night quite a few people commented on the simplicity but the affectivity of her chosen costume. She smiled back and accepted both the compliments and the criticism (while silently musing who the hell classified sexy bunny stripper as a legit Halloween costume).
This time she was sure Bellamy couldn't ruin her night, nu-uh, no way.
And then he appeared dressed as the Green Goblin.
Clarke wanted to facepalm.
He didn't even try to beat around the bush; the moment he spotted her Bellamy went to her.
No 'hello', no 'how are you' (not that he didn't see her every other day when Clarke was helping Octavia with biology), just straight up "Gwen, huh?"
"One of the Osborns, why am I not surprised?"
He arched an eyebrow and took a sip of his cup. "Are you calling me predictable?"
"You always go for the bad guys; it's not hard to see the pattern."
He looked her over. "And you try to stick to the supposedly innocent goody-two shoes."
Clarke hip-checked him; he wasn't going to bring down her good mood, not tonight.
Over the few years she had known his sister and – through her – him, Clarke liked to believe that there was nothing he could say that would surprise her.
And then he went –
"You look good tonight, princess." With that he emptied his cup and went to mingle in the crowd.
Clarke never saw him again that night.
She came home confused, heart thundering in her rib-cage every time she replayed his words in her head, nervous fluttering in her stomach.
Few days later, her mother asked her if she by any chance had finally found a decent boyfriend.
Clarke choked on her water.
Was it so obvious that she was thinking about a guy?
Analysing his words so obsessively was completely normal, right?
He never had said anything nice to her before.
Which – she choked again – was like a little boy pulling the pigtails of the girl he liked.
No way, right?
FOUR
There was a pattern, Clarke was absolutely sure about that.
Every Halloween she could remember Bellamy had dressed as a bag guy (well except Achilles but there was Sabretooth, the Joker, Victor von Doom, Hannibal, Dracula and so on). And every time he had something to say that would either shake her knowledge about her character or would pull her leg and she would end up over thinking things.
It was annoying, extremely annoying (even more so when Octavia had casually mentioned that he was doing it on purpose).
That's why, this year Clarke decided on something drastic – she was going to be dressed as a villain.
Let's see how he reacts then!
Selina Kyle, also known as Catwoman, was her final choice.
Selina wasn't bad in the sense that Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn were, but she was a high-skilled burglar who was more like a friendly foe to Batman, and from time to time was helpful. It didn't hurt that she had this love-hate relationship with Bruce or that he was trying to turn her into one of the good guys. Or that every aspect of her personalization was an endless source of fascination for Clarke.
Catwoman wasn't a killer and wasn't evil but she enjoyed her sparkly treasures and committing a crime didn't really faze her.
It was the perfect in-between for Clarke.
And to be honest she had outgrown her childish view of what was a perfect Halloween costume.
For once, she wanted to feel sexy and powerful, desired but feared, wicked but with a soft side for certain somebody, a vixen, really (or should she say a cat?), who was perfectly capable being by herself but didn't mind the male company as long as her chosen suitor could keep up with her.
That's how Clarke found herself dressed in formfitting black leather bodysuit, black gloves hiding her hands from sight, long bull-whip fastened on her belt and shoes, high enough to make her feel as if she was a model on the catwalk. A simple black mask covered half her face and her hair for once was in its natural waves.
She couldn't wait for Bellamy's reaction.
Clarke smirked.
She'd love to see him sweat. (Not like that, no she meant- no; but she has thought about him in- you know what? forget it.)
But before that she had to figure out who this supposed boyfriend of hers was.
As far as Clarke was aware, Finn was the only possible candidate for that role but they had broken up nearly three years ago. Was it possible that some people still didn't know?
She tried to navigate through the crowd of people and find somebody familiar but as always, Octavia's party was one of the most desired ones, and the house was beyond full.
"Hey, sister." Somebody shouted in her ear and Clarke turned around to see her aforementioned best friend.
After a quick hug, Octavia dragged her to the appointed dancing floor.
Clarke nearly tripped because of her high heels but a guy dressed as Tarzan helped her stay steady. Just as he was about to pull her closer and dance with her, his eyes widened and he hastily apologized for not knowing she was taken.
Clarke growled and looked around – that was the fourth time somebody had implied that she had attended the party with somebody else.
Octavia was dancing and laughing, obvious to Clarke's growing irritation.
Clarke tugged on her arm until Octavia slowed down enough for Clarke to yell in her ear. "Why are people saying that I'm here with my boyfriend?"
Octavia's mouth dropped open in surprise. "You don't know? But I thought you two had- oh, damn, I owe Raven money."
"What?"
Her dark-haired friend just shook her head and disappeared among the people leaving Clarke alone in the dancing mass.
Baffled didn't even begin to explain how Clarke was feeling right this moment.
With an elbow here and there (and one memorable hiss), Clarke reached the refreshments table.
She was on her third cup, when somebody loomed over her slouched form.
Clarke was ready to tell the person to fuck off, she was in bad mood, when her words died in her throat.
Because she was looking at Batman.
She wanted to kick herself – of course, who else could be Catwoman's love interest than a guy dressed as Batman.
She gave him a thorough inspection – the costume was quite good, with body armour that fit in all the right places and emphasized the good proportions the guy had. The mask hid most of his face but even in the low light Clarke knew that he had brown eyes and that he clearly loved her choice of attire.
Clarke straightened her back and leaned against the wall, closer to him and his ridiculous cape.
"I suppose you're my boyfriend then?" She graced him with a coy smile – he looked good, hopefully his personality would match; it's been a while since she had gotten laid.
"Does my kitten purr?" He had deep raspy voice but Clarke was pretty sure that he was using it to fit the whole Batman persona and wasn't actually his real voice.
Still, there was something familiar in the whole situation; maybe that was why she felt so at ease in his presence.
"Depends on how hard you work for it. Got anything sparkly for me?"
He inched closer, boxing her between the wall and his body.
"Maybe." His breath was warm against her wet lips.
She pulled back and tilted her head to the side. "Well?"
The guy grinned and Clarke stared transfixed at the way the smile transformed the harsh lines of his face into something softer, more approachable.
And even before he had fished the pair of earrings from somewhere – earrings Clarke very well knew (she had cried over them after all) – Clarke knew who that smile belonged to and who was her mystery Batman.
"Bellamy." It came out more like a sigh than an actual word but he didn't seem to mind.
He dangled the earrings in her face until she reached to take them.
"Disappointed?"
She bit her tongue forcing herself to think before speaking.
Ever since last year, when he had said she looked good, combined with Octavia's off-hand comment how he did that only to Clarke and paid special attention to her costumes only, Clarke had this weird fixation with him.
More like a crush.
Hell, who was she kidding?
She had slowly fallen in love with every character trait he possessed, every expression, every smirk.
Her smile was nothing short of wicked.
"No. So tell me, my dark knight, what do you say to us skipping the rest of the party?"
Bellamy carefully brushed his fingers along her cheek.
"The best idea you've had the whole night, princess. Though I have to admit that I absolutely love your costume."
"Oh? Is that all?"
He pushed the mask off his face and did the same with hers.
"Well, I'd prefer to see it on the floor of my room."
Clarke laughed – full, throaty, happy laugh – and her eyes sparkled with amusement.
"As I said, you'll have to work for that."
"Don't worry, kitten, I've had this all planned since you were the Little Red." Then his lips were on hers and everything else faded from her mind.
Really, she wouldn't put it past him to have actually orchestrated every Halloween encounter they had.
He was the Big Bad Wolf after all.
And Clarke loved wearing red.
Did you get diabetes?
- M.