Chapter 1: Clarke (I)

Summary: Tumblr Prompt: "Can you do one where Bellamy is helping Clarke move (or vice versa) and he drops a box, and a bunch of sex toys fall out of it. Clarke walks in the room just seconds afterwards, but it's too late because Bellamy already saw all of it. Smut ensues." Rating will go up in later chapters.

Notes: So this is my second fanfic ever... It's a light-hearted story something to give my brain (and soul) a break from the intensity of my other fic (which you should totally check out: Unexpected Explorations. It's a fic with a strong E rating, so be forewarned ;) The rating of this fic is T for now, but will go up in later chapters. Because, let's face it, I'm trash for these two...

Clarke hates moving. The packing and unpacking of box after box is about the least satisfying way she can spend her time. The only thing that makes moving worse is Bellamy Blake.

Clarke is grateful for his help, she really is. He's strong (so strong), so he can carry all of her heavy items, and he doesn't even complain about it because he enjoys the opportunity to show off his (incredible) arms… But seriously, she wishes Octavia had given her a heads-up that her hot brother would be there. Maybe she would have dressed in clothing that wasn't… awful. Yeah, she knows, she's moving. She's doing manual labor, and looking good really isn't the priority. But we're talking about her friend's mouthwateringly gorgeous brother. No, she doesn't still have a crush on him – that was like, ten years ago. She's a big girl now, not a drooling freshman with heart-eyes for the most popular boy in high school.

She's not saying she would have worn a club-worthy bodycon dress, but maybe she would have picked a T-shirt that actually fit instead of the one that's two sizes too big and hanging off her torso in all the wrong places... Maybe she would have worn jeans that didn't sag off her hips. (Yeah, she definitely should have gotten rid of her "fat jeans" after she got in shape. It's been like, eight years since they fit, a fact of which she is proud, thank you. They remind her how far she's come, that's why she kept them.) What the hell was she thinking, wearing this getup anyway? She figured she didn't need to look good, she's just getting all sweaty, right? It's not like she'd need to impress anyone.

It doesn't matter, because it's too late to find an outfit that's a perfect mix of practical and appealing. All her clothes are already packed up, en route their new apartment. It doesn't matter because she just opened her front door to face Bellamy Blake, somehow looking unfairly gorgeous dressed in a stupid T-shirt and jeans. Willing her wild heart rate to calm down, Clarke moves out of the way so he can come in.

"Um… Hi." She says (lamely).

"Good morning, Princess." No, Clarke's heart is not fluttering because he flashed that stupid smirk at her. Okay? Nope. She had too much caffeine this morning. Wait, no, she hasn't had her coffee. Speaking of coffee… She realizes she's still staring at him when he breaks the awkward silence, "What do you want me to move first?"

"Slow down there, tiger. I'm still just waking up. Do you want some coffee or something?" Clarke is trying not to sound like a bitch, but it's difficult to suppress that particular trait when she hasn't fully woken up yet. She can't actively hate morning people today, not when two of them showed up at the crack of dawn and graciously packed up their truck full of boxes to take to her new place. She reminds herself to buy Raven & Wick a case of their favorite beer to thank them for their efforts, even if she was mostly asleep when they arrived.

"Nah, I'm good." Bellamy's perfect smile has nothing to do with the fact that her stomach feels like it's trying to contain a herd of butterflies.

"Okay, well… I need coffee." Clarke disappears into the kitchen and she is absolutely not jittery because Bellamy Blake is standing in her living room. When she spills her searing hot coffee down the front of the ugly, frumpy T-shirt, she can't find it in herself to feel bad about ruining it. She does, however, want to avoid burning herself, so she tears off the ugly T-shirt to get the scalding fabric off her torso. And her pants are wet and scorching so in a panic, she pops the zipper and tries to kick them off before her thighs get burned.

And of course Bellamy would choose this moment to walk into the kitchen, just in time to see her standing in only her bra and underwear, with her fat jeans halfway down her legs. Clarke thinks to herself, oh thank god, thank god I'm wearing my good bra... Yeah, she was pissed this morning when she couldn't find a "practical" bra, leaving her no choice but to wear the sexy black lace lingerie set that she'd forgotten to pack because it had been hang-drying in the laundry room. But now she thinks maybe there was a higher power involved or something. And really, she can't help but feel a little better about herself when Bellamy just stands there like an idiot, staring at her with his mouth open. What's even cuter is the difficulty he's having keeping his eyes on her face, even though it's obvious that he's dying to sweep his gaze up and down her half-naked form. The plate in his hands crashes to the floor, and while it may be a pain in the ass to replace it (it was part of a set), she's gonna go ahead and count this as a win.

Octavia comes waltzing in and rolls her eyes at the scene. Seeing the coffee-soaked T-shirt in a heap on the kitchen floor, and the two dumb-struck idiots frozen in place, she pieces the events together pretty quickly and thankfully intervenes. Clarke mumbles something like "but coffee…" as Octavia grabs her by her upper arm and pulls her out through the other side of the kitchen.

They get to O's room, which is still covered in clothes that need to be packed. Suddenly Clarke isn't so judgmental of O's procrastination, especially since it's benefiting her. O throws her a tank-top, and Clarke barks out a laugh at the absurdity of trying to fit her boobs into O's tiny shirt. O rolls her eyes, "Or you can just wear your bra. Bellamy didn't seem to mind." Clarke blushes a fierce shade of red when she remembers what happened three minutes ago.

Clarke shakes her head, "Thanks for the top, O." She pulls the too-small tank top over her head and slips on the athletic shorts Octavia tosses her way. How is it that O can wear these shorts and look sporty, when they look like glorified underwear on her own ass? Clarke is pretty sure that it's just dumb luck that the coffee disaster spared her bra, and for that she is grateful, because there's no way she could fit into one of O's. Yeah, the black lace is definitely showing through the stretched-out fabric. Well...

When Octavia sees her checking out her own ass in the mirror, the girl snorts and has the audacity to say "Yeah, you're gonna give my brother a damn heart attack." Clarke is absolutely not blushing because of that. Shut up, her face is red because of all the physical labor from moving… and stuff. Not because of Bellamy.

When she walks back out into the living room (in her too-tight tank top and her too-short shorts) and Bellamy almost walks into the wall with an end table in his arms, she decides she'll go ahead and make a game of this today. Because a flustered Bellamy Blake is about the best thing ever. She turns her back to him and bends over slowly to pick up some stray packing peanuts, and grins to herself when she hears him clear his throat nervously, tripping over his feet as he bolts from the room.

As she stands back up, she hears Octavia's voice, "Bellamy, that's the laundry room. Why the hell are you trying to put a table in there?" When O glances at the living room and sees the devious grin on Clarke's face, she doubles-over in laughter. Clarke gives her a half-hearted glare before chuckling a bit to herself.

Oh yeah. This is gonna be fun.