i. when they first met

When Bellamy Blake first met Clarke Griffin, Octavia was beside the blonde, explaining to Bellamy that this was the girl she'd roomed with at University, and she's looking for a roommate because she can't pay rent all by herself now that Octavia was moving in with Lincoln (much to Bellamy's chagrin). So yeah, he wasn't so happy about his sister moving in with the 6 foot something tattooed muscle machine that was her boyfriend, but at this point, there was nothing Bellamy could do about it either. He knew Lincoln loved Octavia, and that was all he could ask for.

As for a new roommate, when Octavia suggested that he moved in with Clarke, he hadn't initially agreed, saying he had to meet the girl before he moved in with her. Octavia understood completely, and set up a coffee date for the three of them, so Bellamy could meet her best friend.

Whatever Bellamy was expecting, it was not the beauty that was Clarke Griffin. Her medium-length blonde hair fell in perfect waves across her shoulders, and as she approached closer, he noticed her eyes were a striking shade of blue, not the normal sea blue he'd see in Octavia's eyes, but a more stormy shade. Something that screamed mystery, intrigue.

As he sat there, getting to know Clarke Griffin, (soon he had accumulated the facts that she was 22, a year older than Octavia, and that she was a budding artist trying to land on her feet), he felt an overwhelming attraction to the girl. He didn't know what was overcoming him, but he knew if he didn't keep whatever it was bottled up, it wasn't going to end well for either of them. He needed a roommate, and so did she. Even though he wanted to pull her aside and kiss her softly and sweetly, he was going to do everything but that. There was no way he was going to ruin this.

ii. when clarke went out on a date

Clarke had mentioned her upcoming date with a boy named Finn Collins one too many times, and if she did it again, Bellamy swore he would snap. Yeah, he and Clarke weren't together, but that didn't mean he wasn't jealous of her when she went out. He was always worried that she wasn't going to come home one night, and come back to their shared apartment smelling like sex.

He just didn't want to think about her with someone else. He cared for her, so naturally, he wanted to protect her, keep her from getting hurt, and when she walked out of her bedroom wearing a little black dress, Bellamy's eyes did a double take, taking in her lean and thin frame, her curled hair and perfected makeup.

"There is no way in hell you're going on a date looking like that," he mumbled, mostly to himself, but he hadn't realized that Clarke had heard him, and she looked offended.

"Oh, really?" she demanded. "And why the hell not? I can go wherever the hell I want looking however the hell I want."

Bellamy blushed furiously, knowing his jealousy was kicking in. He didn't want her going out like that for some other guy. He wanted her going out looking like that with him. He again felt another strong desire. He wanted to push her up against the wall, let her little black dress ride up against her thighs and let her wrap her lanky legs around his torso as he let his tongue roam around her mouth, dancing around her teeth, but he shook the idea from his mind.

She. Was. Going. On. A. Date.

(And it wasn't with him.)

"I mean, you… you look really good," he said, falling back into the present moment and out of his little daydream.

"Well, thanks, I guess…" she mumbled. "I'll be back around 11, kay?"

"I guess I'll see you then," he said as he watched her make her way out of the apartment.

Suffice to say he burned the eggs he was making as he let himself daydream some more once she was gone.

iii. at the bar

Bellamy was buzzed and Clarke was drunk.

After a few drinks on Bellamy's side, one too many drinks on Clarke's, the two were goofing off, dancing on the floor, laughing and smiling. They were having a good time, which usually happened after a few drinks had entered their system.

Nights like this, the two spent looking out for each other, roaming around both separately and together, and if one ever spotted the other getting into trouble with another person, they had their excuse pre-planned.

So when it looked like Clarke was about to be assaulted by a burly man who seemed to be much taller and bulkier than Bellamy, it didn't matter. He made his way over, linking his arm into Clarke's. "Hey sweetheart," he said, the words rolling off his tongue effortlessly, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek in a loving manner, wishing he could do more than just that. "You ready to go grab a couple more drinks before we make our way onto the floor?"

"Let's go," she slurred, smiling as she took his hand. Once they were out of earshot of the guy, she sighed with relief. "Thanks, Bell, I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't stepped in."

"Hey, it's my pleasure to rescue your ass and keep you from the thugs trying to get a piece of the princess," he said, half-jokingly.

"Time for another drink," she said, ordering both his and hers. He watched the bartender mix the two drinks and slid them down the counter. Bellamy grabbed his and handed Clarke's to her.

"To saving each other's sorry asses," he chuckled.

"To saving each other's sorry asses," she repeated, as clearly as she could, clinking her cup to his.

It wasn't long before they had made their way onto the dance floor, having fun just being goofy and dancing with each other. Apparently, Clarke was more drunk than he had thought, because quickly, she turned herself around, letting her backside press against his hips, grinding into him. He stifled a groan as she turned around, draping her arms across him. He knew he should tell her to stop, that she shouldn't be doing this with him, but he already had a feeling she wouldn't be remembering it the next morning.

She didn't.

(He wished she would.)

v. washing dishes

After cooking a quiet dinner for the two in celebration of Clarke's most recent success, selling a piece of her artwork to the local art museum, there seemed to be too many dishes to wash.

Sure, the pair had not only had side salads, but steak, potatoes and a dessert of chocolate cake, but neither of them had expected the massive pile of plates that was now stacked in their sink.

So they began to make their way through the pile, Clarke washing, Bellamy drying before Bellamy began to protest.

"Clarke, you're not washing the dishes properly! There's still food on some of these."

"Oh is there? Do you think you could do a better job?"

"Actually, I think I could," he stated, confident as he picked up the soapy sponge from Clarke, letting his hand scrub the plate clean so that there was no food left on it. Dropping the sponge back into the sink he walked up to Clarke, showing off his spick-n-span clean plate. "See, that's how you wash dishes." It seemed like she didn't hesitate one second, picking up the soap covered sponge out of the sink and dragging it down Bellamy's face.

"And that's how you wash a Bellamy Blake," she said, giggling.

"Oh, it's fucking on, Princess."

Soon, Bellamy had grabbed the clean dish rag Clarke was using to dry and soaking it in the sink before wringing it over Clarke's head. She shrieked as the water hit her scalp. She continued retaliating with her sponge, throwing water left right and centre. It was a surprise they didn't break any dishes.

Before either of them realized it, both Bellamy and Clarke were soaked from head to toe, the ground around them covered in soapy water. It wasn't long before the water beat Bellamy, slipping and falling backwards, grabbing on to the closest thing to him, which happened to be Clarke. They both went tumbling, Bellamy falling on his backside as Clarke landed on top of him. He stared up at the girl for a moment, not breaking eye contact as he wondered if he would do what he had been dying to do and plant a kiss on her lips, but he didn't.

Haphazardly, he apologized, pushing himself up after she had peeled himself off of her.

"If you want to rinse off, I can clean up in here," he offered, his hand running up and down the length of his neck, something he did when he was nervous.

"It's fine, I can help," she insisted, and he smiled as he pulled the mop out of the supply cupboard and began to clean as Clarke wiped up the counter.

+ i. christmastime

It was Saturday, and neither Bellamy nor Clarke were busy with work, so that meant it was movie day. Outside their window, the snow began to fall, Christmastime soon approaching, the tree in their small living room decked out with decorations as per Clarke's request. Bellamy didn't object. The small fresh pine tree brought an air of life into their apartment, not to mention it made the whole place smell really good.

How he ended up watching Santa Clause 3, he had no fucking idea.

(Maybe it was because he was a sucker for anything Clarke wanted to do.)

(He wasn't complaining, though. Clarke was cuddled up, head in his lap as she let him tangle his fingers in her blonde locks as he smiled down at her.)

He got up only for a moment, pulling the DVD out of the player, planning to head back to where Clarke was sitting, but when he turned around, instead, he saw her right in front of him. Clarke's eyes were flitting back and forth, from Bellamy to the ceiling. Curious as to what she was looking at, he looked up, noticing the small piece of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling.

"Hey Blake," she said, "Looks like your sister took some creative liberties when she was helping me decorate."

"It looks like she did… Do you want me to take it down?" he asked, unsure.

"Bellamy…" she groaned. "What do you think I want you to do?"

It only took a second before her lips were interlocked with his. Finally letting his tongue roam across the edge of her lips, begging for entrance into her mouth that she quickly gave him. Their lips were colliding, teeth clashing as they both went to deepen the kiss. Soon her legs were raising up, hooking themselves around his torso.

"God, Blake… You kiss pretty damn well," she mumbled as he moved down her jawline.

"Well, I've been waiting for this moment for a damn long time."

Bellamy woke up the next morning with Clarke entangled in his arms, legs twisted into a knot with hers. He gently placed a few chaste kisses on her bare shoulder, and she began to mumble, waking up.

"So… how long?" she asked, turning around to face Bellamy, letting her hand interlock with his.

"Too long," he said, but it didn't matter now. He had her in his arms and that was all he ever wanted.

(He was pretty sure Octavia would be thrilled when she found out, but who said she had to know right away? Maybe they could keep it their little secret for just a little while longer…)

(Clarke had agreed.)

(Octavia found out anyways.)