Title: And my heart might not be shaped like yours (but I swear it is big enough to be your home)
Setting: modern-day AU, single!mom Clarke and nanny!Bellamy

A/N: This story started as a drabble idea as I was talking with labonsoirfemme, and eventually turned into a multichap. Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think. :)

Title from Cocoon's Baby Tiger. Cocoon's a French band that sings in English that I'd highly recommend.

Interviewing nannies ended up being more exhausting than the sixteen hours she'd spent in labor.

They were all very nice, and Clarke knew she was being difficult - Maya was studying to be a nurse, knew everything that needed to be known about CPR and infant care - but she just didn't feel the spark, that instant warm and safe feeling she needed to entrust her baby to someone. But Clarke also knew that time was running out - school was about to start again, and she needed to find someone now.

She was checking on Lana - who was sleeping peacefully, her little thumb between her rosy lips, and Clarke could have stayed there to look at her forever - when she heard a knock at the door. Her last hope. She tried to remember their résumé as she walked to the door; Bellamy was a History major, a little bit older than her which was a nice change from all the teenage girls she'd seen today, and...

...male.

Frowning, Clarke took the man at her door in; messy dark curls fell over his forehead, a plaid shirt peeked out of his navy sweater, and he gave her a small, hesitant smile. "Clarke Griffin?" he asked.

"Yeah," Clarke nodded. "Can I - can I help you?"

His smile turned into a grin. "Um, I think I can help you," he chuckled. "I'm here for -"

"You're Bellamy?" Clarke interrupted him, and he nodded. "Okay. You - you're not what I expected," she admitted. "I knew a Bellamy when I was in middle school and she definitely was a girl, so I thought you were a girl, too, which you're clearly not."

Bellamy cocked an eyebrow at her. "And, is that gonna be a problem?" he asked, broad grin tugging at his lips. "Because if it is, I can just go now and pretend I didn't spend the afternoon rehearsing Disney songs to impress you. No hurt feelings, I swear," he chuckled.

She couldn't help it; Clarke laughed. "Now I'm curious. Please, come in," she gestured, stepping aside to let Bellamy in. He may have not been what she expected, but he'd made her laugh and that wasn't an easy task. She led him to the couch, sitting on the chair facing it. "Sorry about that," she shook her head at herself, gathering the papers on the coffee table in her hands. "Clearly I didn't read these closely enough, because I'm sure I would have remembered you being a man."

Bellamy glanced at the résumés in her hands. "I actually didn't specify it," he said almost hesitantly, "I didn't think that was necessary. I mean, I don't know, nobody ever believed I was a girl before, so. Yeah." He laughed, too, before he added, sounding half-amused and half-amazed, "Did you really print out all the résumés you got?"

Clarke felt herself blush. Wells always teased her about that, how she could go crazy with her study cards and highlighters, furiously scribbling down notes and forcing him to quiz her until the very last minute before an exam - and she'd prepared just the same for these interviews, circling and highlighting stuff as she read to target her questions. "I'm a planner," she just shrugged, and Bellamy gave her a smile that was much sweeter than teasing. "So, Bellamy," she started, tasting his name on her tongue. It felt different now that he was right here, all floppy hair and freckles and broad shoulders and big hands, far from the nice college girl his name had conjured in her mind.

Not that she minded, really. She'd spent the last four months with her daughter for only company and the rare exception of Wells, so it was a nice change to see other people - especially when she wasn't covered in vomit for once. Baby vomit was just as disgusting as any other kind of vomit, no matter what Wells tried to tell her.

(Wells really was perfect about this whole thing - the being perfect with your best friend becoming a single mom when everybody else was giving her sympathetic, sad little looks, thing, that is.)

Bellamy smiled at her, a little encouraging, and Clarke smiled back, feeling more at ease with him than she had with any other girl today - which was weird, considering he definitely wasn't what she'd expected. "So, you said you wanted to be a teacher?" Clarke asked. "You're a History major, right?" she added, not daring to check on her papers now that Bellamy had called her out on it.

Bellamy nodded. "Yeah. I'm double-majoring in Ancient History and Classics. I'll be working on my dissertation this year, which means I'm mostly gonna be working from home."

"Oh," Clarke said. "What's your dissertation about?"

He chuckled. "You don't want to get me started on that, trust me. My sister says I'm the biggest nerd ever, and I can't even pretend it's not true."

He grinned then, easy and genuine, and Clarke's heart clenched a little because it was hard not to see Finn in that smile. It was hard not to see Finn everywhere, to be honest. She shook her head at herself; this was not the moment to think about Finn and start crying in front of a stranger, no matter how warm and charming he seemed. "You close with your sister?" she asked.

"She's my best friend," Bellamy replied easily. "She means everything to me." He paused, as if contemplating whether to say more. "It was just me, my mom and my sister while growing up, so she's my everything."

She gave him a fond smile. "That's sweet."

He shrugged. "That's true."

And it was, Clarke could see it in his eyes - brown and warm and honest - and she had a list of questions she'd asked all the others but all of a sudden she couldn't remember any of them.

Because a guy who talked about his little sister like she'd put all the stars in his sky was exactly who she wanted for her daughter.

It was irrational and Clarke didn't do irrational, except she did, maybe - Lana definitely wasn't on Clarke's five-year plan and yet here she was, all gorgeous blue eyes and brown curls, cute little fingers and toes and nose, and no matter what people said or the way they looked at her like she was crazy or stupid for having her, her daughter would always be the best thing she'd ever done.

Bellamy seemed to understand that.

He gave her a look, a little frown creasing between his brows, and Clarke realized she must have been staring at him a moment too long as she got lost in her thoughts. A soft, small wail in the baby phone saved her and Clarke got up, tilting her head to her bedroom. "You wanna see her?" she asked.

Bellamy's frown faded, easily replaced by a smile as he got up too. "Sure. Let's take a look at the little princess."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "I usually go with munchkin, but Princess's fine, I guess," she laughed as she padded to her room, gently opening the door. Bellamy followed her, and they both hovered by the crib; the baby was awake and wailing, wetness pooling in her eyes as she reached out to Clarke with her arms. "Hey, baby," Clarke murmured, her voice soft and soothing, as she put a gentle hand under the baby's head and back and lifted her into her arms. "So this is Lana. She's a real ray of sunshine after her nap as you can see," Clarke added with a chuckle.

"It's actually quite funny you'd say that, considering her name's Lana," Bellamy smirked, but when Clarke frowned a little, he just wrinkled his nose. "Lana. It means shining light in Greek. Same root as Helen, Ella, Nell...which you didn't know or care about. Never mind," he finished, shaking his head.

Clarke just stood there, fussy baby in her arms and staring at this man like he was a break from reality - which was, in all honesty, both an odd and refreshing feeling. "You are a nerd," she just said.

Bellamy shrugged one shoulder, silently admitting guilty as charged. "Believe it or not, but reciting History facts is a very effective way to put a baby to sleep. My little sister? She didn't care about Cinderella's struggle against oppression and abuse through courage and kindness. She kept crying until I told her all about Alexander the Great or Marie-Antoinette."

"That's something," Clarke laughed softly, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Lana's back. "But this one's hungry, and right now there's nothing she loves more than her bottle. Except maybe putting her foot in her mouth."

Bellamy gave her a sheepish smile. "Okay, uh, you want me to go, or - I don't know, help you with something?" he asked as he lifted his hand to scratch as the back of his neck. "I'm not saying you need it, I'm just offering."

Clarke knew that - but it was still nice of him to say it. Whenever Wells or her mom came over, they would offer to go for groceries or clean around and though Clarke loved them for it they still had a tendency to go overboard. "Sure," she finally said. "Can you grab a bottle in the fridge? The bottle warmer's on the counter," she indicated as she made her way back to the living-room and got herself comfortable on the couch.

Clarke watched as Bellamy did as instructed, completely at ease in her kitchen when barely months ago she didn't know anything about sterilizing milk or that you shouldn't warm your baby's milk in the microwave. Lana was still fussy, seeking out her breast despite taking the bottle for weeks now so she sat her on her lap and bounced the baby on her knee. "Come on, Lana. Look at Bellamy, he's making your bottle!" she said, and at that Bellamy smiled across the room, and wriggled the bottle at them. "See, munchkin? There's no reason to be so fussy," Clarke cooed, before dropping a kiss to the baby's hair. "I swear, she acts like I'm not feeding her," Clarke added for Bellamy.

Bellamy snorted, squirting milk droplets on his inner wrist to test the temperature - definitely a natural, Clarke thought as he walked to them and handed her the bottle and a towel. "There you go," he grinned at the baby with a broad, goofy smile that made Lana start gurgling in delight. "She really does love her bottle, doesn't she?" Bellamy laughed as he sat on the other end of the couch.

"Yeah," Clarke agreed, but I think she likes you too, she thought. She paused to look - really look - at him, and there was a warmth to Bellamy that reminded her of Wells, strong and steady and soft at the same time, and maybe that was why she felt like she could trust him despite barely meeting him. "Listen," she started as she settled Lana in her arms, her head tucked in the crook of her elbow, "I feel like I should ask you a ton of questions, you know, to make sure you know everything about babies, all the things I've learned over the past few months by reading every book I could find."

"Go ahead." It wasn't teasing or challenging. Bellamy just looked at her patiently, ready to answer anything.

Clarke could ask him about CPR or if he knew the proper dose of Tylenol for a four-month old baby; then again, Maya, the nursing student, had seemed to know all about the natural cycle of the internal thermostat and the guidelines to treating a fever, but Clarke just hadn't felt it. That gentle, soothing aura Bellamy had, like he was the kind of guy who'd spent his life with a baby in his arms - which he had, whereas Clarke's closest experience with babies brought her back to when she was a kid wandering through the hospital while her mother was busy in surgery, sometimes stopping by the nursery to watch the newborns.

In the end, she went with the first thing that popped in her mind. "So, Disney songs, huh?"

Bellamy looked away for a second, his lips tugging upward in a small smile and possibly the faintest hint of a blush tinting his cheeks. "My sister did end up loving Disney more than History as she grew up," he said with a chuckle. "And they're catchy, okay?"

"Sure they are," Clarke hid her smile, looking down at Lana who was emptying her bottle in big gulps. Brushing a single finger on her cheek, Clarke tried to come up with another, better question.

Bellamy beat her to it. Linking his fingers together on his lap, he leaned into her a little. "Look, Clarke," he said softly, "I've never been a nanny so I don't know the kind of questions parents usually ask in these interviews. But I'm a brother and I think I've done a good enough job with my sister." He chuckled a little then. "Okay, O - Octavia's got a potty mouth, but nobody's perfect, right?"

That made her laugh. "Your sister's name is Octavia? Who's that, a queen or something?" she asked, more than a little amused at the face Bellamy made.

He lifted a finger at her. "I'll have you know that Octavia was one of the most prominent women in Roman History," he said, with what Clarke imagined was his future teacher voice. "Anyway. What I meant was, if you've got questions I'll be happy to answer them, really. But I bet all these other people you already interviewed knew plenty enough about babies and yet you didn't pick any. You mind if I ask you why?" he asked.

Lana finished her bottle, and Clarke busied herself with arranging the towel over her shoulder as she lifted her daughter against her chest to burp her. Bellamy was right; she'd seen half a dozen girls and they were all competent enough, and yet she'd managed to find a little flaw in every single one of them. Bellamy, on the other hand, seemed to be such a perfect fit, and it made it all the more real all of a sudden - the fact that she was going to go back to school and let somebody else look after her daughter.

She hadn't envisioned any of these girls with Lana; but Bellamy, she could see it easily. He seemed to be the kind of person kids took to immediately, and the affection had to be mutual if the fond look he was giving Lana was any indication. "I just - I don't know, there was just something missing," Clarke admitted. "And I had this checklist of everything the perfect nanny needed to be, and some of these girls fit the description but I just didn't feel the connection, you know?" Bellamy nodded his head, the corners of his lips twitching in understanding. "But with you...it's different. I feel like I can trust you. Does that sound crazy?" she let out a little laugh, nervous and earnest as she locked eyes with him.

Bellamy shook his head. "No," he said softly. "Honestly, it's kind of an honor, really," he smiled.

Clarke smiled back, feeling a lot less heavy, as if a weight had been lifted off her chest. She knew her mother would've taken care of Lana if necessary; there was a daycare at the hospital and though Clarke preferred having a nanny taking care of the baby at home, she knew that was still a solution she could turn to. But finding someone like Bellamy - that was what she wanted.

Lana started fussing again, so Clarke got up and adjusted her against her chest, gently rubbing her back as she started pacing a little. "Okay, um, I guess we should probably talk about the details now," she started, "like, schedule and stuff."

"Schedule and stuff," Bellamy echoed, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. "You said you needed someone starting by the end of August. I suppose you're starting school then?"

She gave him a nod. "Yeah, I'm a Biology major. Pre-med."

Bellamy's eyes widened a little. "Wow," he breathed out, visibly impressed. "That's badass. So, uh, I guess you'll be working office hours?" he asked.

"Yeah. Part-time at school and part-time at Ark Memorial for my rotations," Clarke replied. "So basically, I'll need you Mondays through Thursdays, nine to five. Are you sure that's gonna be okay with your thesis?" she asked, a little concerned. "Because I really don't want to need to look for someone else in three months because it gets too much for you, okay?"

Bellamy stood up, meeting her eyes before placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Clarke," he spoke her name gently, "I'm not gonna bail on you."

His tone was serious but gentle, and Clarke felt herself nod at him. "Okay, good," she smiled. The baby had calmed a little, and Clarke felt her head loll against her shoulder. "Do you - you wanna hold her?" she offered. "I mean, she's kind of adorable when she's not fussing, so now's the time."

Bellamy let out a chuckle. "Clearly you haven't been around a lot of demonic babies if you call that little pout and wailing fussing," he teased her as he opened his arms. "Okay, gimme the little demon."

With an eye roll, Clarke gave him Lana, and bit her tongue to resist telling Bellamy what to do. He seemed to do just fine anyway; he held Lana level with his face and grinned at her and the baby squealed, reaching out to grab the messy curls on his forehead.

Clarke kept watching them as she picked the empty bottle and went to the sink to wash it. And then, since Lana seemed all but too happy to listen to Bellamy's babbling - she caught bits of baby nonsense and Bellamy actually introducing himself like Lana cared - Clarke decided to wash the rest of the dishes.

And fold laundry.

Start on making dinner.

All the daily things she used to do with one eye on her task and the other on Lana in her playpen. But Bellamy was there, sprawled on his stomach on the floor by Lana's activity quilt, and Clarke wasn't sure who squeaked and cooed the most between the two.

(It only seemed natural to ask him if he wanted to stay for dinner.)

"I need to meet this guy."

Clarke looked up, startled at Wells' words. He was bouncing Lana on his knee, still making faces to amuse her. "What guy?" Clarke asked.

Wells just cocked an eyebrow at her, like she was the dumbest person he knew. "The nanny guy. Or do you say guy nanny? Nanny dude sounds better though."

"Your point?" Clarke sighed, closing her textbook and pushing her notes from last year away.

Wells grinned at her, broad and easy. "I gotta meet the guy who's gonna take care of Lana. That's my duty as her uncle," he said as he pressed a kiss to the crown of her hair. "Besides, I haven't seen you this relaxed in weeks, so I have him to thank for that."

Clarke opened her mouth, ready to argue, but the protest died on her lips. She couldn't deny that finding the perfect nanny for her daughter had lifted her spirits. Bellamy had come back a few times so Lana would get more familiar with him, and admittedly it had meant for Clarke that she'd gotten to sit back and watch her baby laugh and gurgle in delight for hours as Bellamy learned where she was ticklish and how to lull her to sleep. She'd let them alone one afternoon, making the most of Bellamy being there to run some errands and get a long overdue haircut, and she'd come home to Bellamy and Lana in front of the History channel, engaged in a very serious debate about the Second Triumvirate.

Bellamy was a huge nerd, but Lana seemed to like listening to his voice. So.

"He's really good with her," Clarke said, resting her chin on top of her linked hands. "That's what I wanted for her. And she's really taken to him."

"Not any more than she loves me, right?" Wells inquired with a grin, turning Lana in his arms so she'd face him. "You're my baby girl, okay?" he cooed. "You can't go and fall in love with the nanny like that, sweetheart. You're supposed to love your uncle the most."

Clarke rolled her eyes, fond and amused. "I think he had her at hello, sorry," she shrugged to Wells' indignation. "He's really good with her."

"Yeah, keep digging the knife," Wells snorted. "You done with studying?" he said, eyeing her books on the table. "This is our last week before school starts. I want to feel the sun on my face before I'm buried under political ethics and international relations."

Clarke shook her head. "I feel like I don't know half of this stuff."

"You know everything, Clarke," Wells sighed. "You were the best in your class, and you aced all your exams - and you managed all that while being pregnant. You've got this, really," he insisted, gentle but firm.

"Will you at least quiz me?" she tried, but Wells just narrowed his eyes at her. "Okay, fine, no need to give me the look. You're tough at business, Jaha."

Wells just grinned, before getting up to collect Lana's stroller and put her in it. "Since we're going out, we could just drop by Bellamy's -"

"Wells," Clarke warned him.

"I'm just saying," Wells shrugged, buckling Lana's straps. "We're going out. We may as well take a stroll by his place so I can meet him."

"Or we could just go to the park and enjoy the sun, and you could stop trying to scare my nanny away," Clarke replied with a smile as she took the handles of the stroller from him. "Don't even deny it, I know you. You're gonna play the big protective brother and I love you for it, but Bellamy's really nice and I'd really want to keep him, okay?" she pleaded.

Wells stared at her for a second before tilting his head to the side in agreement. "Okay, fine," he said as he looped an arm around her shoulders, "but maybe I just really wanted to thank him. You've thought about that?" he teased her.

"Yeah," Clarke nodded. "But then I concluded you also probably would want to run a background check on him and if you do that I'll break your bones. Got it?" she asked in a sweet voice, looking at him from beneath her lashes.

Wells looked struck for a second. "You're really scary sometimes, you know that?" When Clarke nodded almost happily, he laughed. "And I thought your job was to fix people, not break them."

Clarke just laughed at him.

They ended up at the cemetery.

There were fresh flowers at Finn's grave - probably from Raven - and Clarke felt a pang of guilt hit her since the last time she'd come here was before Lana was born. She'd just found it a bit creepy, bringing a baby to a cemetery; that was something she'd seen a dozen times in bad movies, the poor, sad girl, bringing her baby and talking to a grave, to the promise of what should have been but was brutally snatched away.

She could never do it for her father, either. His was five rows to the left from Finn's. Wells' mom's, too.

"You want me to give you a moment?" Wells murmured in her ear, his arm protectively wrapped around her, huddling her to his side.

She shook her head. "I just - I don't know what to do. Or say."

"You don't have to say anything."

Clarke sighed, letting herself sink deeper against Wells. She didn't see the point of coming here if it was just to stand there in silence. Clarke knew her mother came often to talk to her dad; she'd tried to go with her once or twice, but it'd been too hard and Abby had understood. She came with Marcus now, or with Thelonius sometimes.

For someone who wanted to become a doctor, Clarke knew she was terrible at handling death. Death wasn't beautiful or romantic; it was tragic and final, and her father had been too young, Finn even younger, and it just wasn't supposed to happen this way. She was supposed to meet a great guy and fall in love and one day her father would have walked her down the aisle; she wasn't supposed to mourn the death of her boyfriend and realize she was pregnant in the aftermath.

Life just really sucked sometimes.

"You know," Wells started, "I used to think that cowlick was stupid on Finn, but it really looks cute on Lana."

Clarke laughed - only Wells could make her laugh like that. "I've given up trying to tame her hair. You've got to pick your battles."

They laughed some more for a while, sharing stories about that one time in high school when Finn was suspended for that stupid prank he'd pulled on a teacher or the way Lana snored just like him in that moment between sleep and awake. And then they felt silent again; that was something else Clarke hated about this place, the deafening silence, the stillness, how she could hear people's heavy breathing when they tried to hold back their tears, or the wind in the tree leaves.

She felt the tears prick at her eyes eventually, just like whenever she allowed herself to think about Finn for too long. It wasn't just about Finn, though; it was thinking of Raven and the pain she was in, losing the one person she considered family; it was saying goodbye to all the promises and projects they'd had; it was Lana who was so unconditionally loved by her and her mom and Wells but who would still grow up without her father.

"We should go," Wells said after a moment, and she let him guide her with a hand between her shoulder blades, warm and reassuring and steady.

That's when she saw him. Down a few rows, with a girl flushed at his side, her skin and hair a shade lighter than his but still undoubtedly family.

He turned his head at the sound of movement; his sister didn't. She held her head proud but Clarke could see she was biting on her bottom lip, the strong set of her jaw tensing as she did. Their eyes locked for a brief second, quiet understanding falling upon them as Bellamy gave her a short nod of his head that she reciprocated.

Wells didn't see anything. It was probably better that way.

(Neither of them mentioned it for two months.)

to be continued