A/N:

I don't own anything "The 100" related or any other copyright stuff I might have put in here.

Sorry it's kind of a slow start, but the next chapter is up and has some more... interesting plot points. Please review! All feedback is welcome feedback.

Chapter 1

Clarke let her head fall into her hands as she let herself descend onto the edge of the bed. The leaning tower of homework on Octavia's desk taunted her silently, casting a shadow over the mess of her unfinished research paper. She shifted her head's weight into her right hand and dropped her left, checking the old watch clasped around her wrist. Her father's watch, thrust upon her to keep reminding her of how little time she had to do too many things. He'd given it to her the day she'd left for college, joking that since he'd no longer be around to make sure she finished her assignments on time, he'd have to settle for her promise to always keep the watch on her. There had been tears, sentimentality, hugging, promises and requests being made in record time. Clarke's mom hadn't been there. She'd been on call at the hospital, and had had to go in a half hour before Clarke's departure. Of course, she'd called that night, apologized, told Clarke all about the man whose intestines had literally been falling out in the emergency room, all of that nice old sentimental crap. That had been, what, six weeks ago? Seven? Time seemed different away from her parents. Away from her friends. Her life.

The incredible college adventure. So far, it sucked. She'd made only a few friends, and those she had only been able to spend time with twice a week, at most. Saturday nights were their "release" nights. That's what Octavia called them, anyhow. She called their mid-week excursions "break" nights. Like Clarke, she'd only been here for a little less than two months. Unlike Clarke, Octavia had entered college life like a storm, taking control of teachers and students alike. Everyone loved the small, dark-haired fireball. She was intimidation incarnate, with an innate kindness in her. The combination made her unstoppable, mainly because nobody had any motivation to stop her. And inexplicably, Octavia Blake had chosen Clarke Griffin, the quiet, efficient, lost girl, as her new best friend.

Monty and Jasper were Octavia's inseparable pair of followers. Lincoln was her tall, dark, and badass boyfriend. Murphy also hung out with the five of them, but after spending three minutes with the rebellious angst-ball that he was, Clarke had realized her dislike for the guy, and had spent much of her time recently with Octavia trying to figure out how Murphy fit into her group, and why she tolerated his crude comments and disgusting flirtation. However, with every club they hit up on their excursions, it was always the six of them, Murphy included.

Clarke's cell phone buzzed against the desk top, lighting up with an image of the selfie Octavia had taken for her contact picture. Clarke groaned. As much as she wished her father's watch had been wrong, her four hours of uninterrupted study time were over. She pushed herself up off the bed and reached for the buzzing offense.

"Hey, O."

The voice on the other end was plump with sarcasm.

"You sound like you got a lot done." Clarke groaned, sliding down to the floor.

"I have two thousand words written on my research, I have half my lab proposal thought out, and I have a full billion points toward my procrastination regret score."

"You're on the floor, aren't you." Octavia said. Clarke groaned in response. "Clarke. You're only in my dorm for two days while yours gets the ventilation fixed, and I refuse to let you sully my space with your moping."

"Octavia, I still have another eight hours of work ahead of me, if I keep working for the next eight hours. Three of these assignments are due on Monday, and three more Tuesday, and-"

"Clarkey."

Clarke groaned again. With Octavia's ridiculous nickname inevitably came a night full of potentially regrettable partying. So far, only two nights had been really regrettable, when Clarke had made out with a moody sophomore named Finn, and when Clarke had let her guard down by Murphy just long enough for him to force a sloppy, awkward kiss on her face.

At that memory, Clarke groaned again.

"Not tonight, O."

Octavia made an indignant noise.

"Yes, tonight! Tonight of all nights, Clarke Griffin! Tonight or no night!"

"No, no, I need to finish my research, my lab-"

"Fine. Clarke. I'm at Lincoln's now, and he's making popcorn. After the movie, though, We're going to Lacie's."

Lacie's. The biggest, most hygienically safe club in town. The music they played wasn't crap, and they served food until two. Their drinks were strong and not outrageously expensive, and they were roomy. Like, really roomy. On any given night Lacie's would be crowded, but hitting it up tonight, on a Friday of all days, it would be raging. Clarke had been to Lacie's only three times, but those nights had been some of the most fun Clarke had ever known. Of course, Lacie's was high-up, so it was harder than other clubs to get into, especially underaged. They'd been good about having Lincoln buy the drinks each time they went, and hadn't hit any real obstacles as of yet.

Clarke's resistance faltered.

"Really?" she asked quietly. Octavia laughed.

"Fuck, yeah, really. My brother's in town, with he and Lincoln as our twenty-one-pluses, we'll all get in, no problem."

"You have a brother?" Clarke frowned, not recollecting any mention of another Blake.

"Yeah, his name's- Lincoln, no! No, please!" Octavia's voice disappeared into a fit of giggles. Lincoln's dark voice came over the line, then.

"Clarke, we'll see you later tonight, okay? Until then, though, allow me to tickle my girlfriend in privacy." Octavia argued that there would be "no more tickling, damn it" in the background, and Lincoln chuckled. "Bye, Clarke."

"Bye, Lincoln." Clarke sighed with a smile as the line went dead. Doubtless now Lincoln was tickling Octavia full-force, and she was in tears, begging through desperate laughter to just start the movie, with her usual seasoning of tasteful expletives thrown into the plea.

...

Bellamy stormed down the hallway, a man on a mission. Two days ago, he'd called his sister to check up, and the phone call had been ended after a deep male voice had instructed Bellamy that Octavia was "previously engaged" after which Bellamy had heard his sister let out a disgustingly seductive giggle before the line had gone dead. It had been two hours before she'd called her brother back, and another hour before she agreed to his visit.

After making a few calls and talking to a few of the right people, he'd managed to get his bartending job transferred to one of the clubs in town and still keep his recently attained raise. He'd found an apartment nearby and had spent the past day packing what little belongings he had into his flatbed and driving across two states to get to this town. He'd passed out when he'd arrived at his new home, but had woken hours ago fully rejuvenated and ready to bitch out his younger sister.

As orphans, Bellamy was used to the feeling of responsibility, was used to taking care of Octavia, but he'd thought that when she moved off to college, she might be able to take care of herself, maybe leave him to start looking for some other purpose in life.

He should have known better than to let her go. Now she was probably in her dorm, letting some lowlife college kid screw her brains out.

She didn't know he'd transferred jobs. She didn't know he'd gotten an apartment. She didn't know, but in moments, she would.

211, 213, 215, 217... The dorm numbers flicked by quickly as he passed them. It was strange, being in a college dorm and seeing it so painfully empty. His memories of college were those of bustling halls and overcrowded dorms and obnoxious music playing twenty-four-seven in one room or another, audible throughout the building. Of course, the college he'd gotten stuck with had been cheap, and full of more stoners and delinquents than he could count. He'd made sure Octavia got better. He'd filtered through her college acceptance letters and had spent hours poring over the benefits of each one. He'd found fault in all of them. Bad part of town. Too expensive. Classes too big. Dorms too small.

The fault of this college was its distance from himself. However, when Octavia heard this as his only complaint, she'd squealed and kissed his cheek and promised him, time and again, that she'd be fine. She'd be fine.

Why had he let her get her own dorm? He should have insisted she get one of the two-person rooms, should have ensured she get a roommate that was some kind of crazy, whip-wielding chastity freak. Don't worry. These single dorms are safer, anyway, Bell. Plus, mine is 283, almost as far from the street entrance as you can get. So any burglars would have to walk half a mile in the building to get to it.

Bellamy huffed, increasing his pace. He could just see her conniving smirk. And my brother will have to walk half a mile to stop me from having irresponsible college sex!

Fuck.

229, 231...