you instead, a 100 fanfic

A/N: i wrote this piece of UTTER TRASH for my friend zoe, so blame her. based on the film 'you instead'.

you instead

Of course, it was Octavia's fault- bloody Octavia, always meddling where she wasn't wanted.

All Clarke had wanted was to have a bit of fun at the music festival they were playing at that weekend, but no . Octavia had been so excited for the band to meet her older brother that she refused to accept it when Clarke thought the man a complete dickhead, and brought over some security guard to keep the peace who, as it was, turned out to be completely insane, and handcuffed Clarke and Bellamy together before running off with the key.

And now Clarke couldn't move two feet in any direction without Bellamy freaking Blake moving with her.

As soon as she had regained the full use of both hands, she was going to use them to strangle Octavia.

"You know, this could be worse," Bellamy offered as Clarke, not for the first time that day, stormed off rather aimlessly. "You could be stuck with someone far less attractive."

Clarke stopped so suddenly that he ran into her, pressing against her back with a curse. "As soon as we find that stupid security guard," she began sweetly, "I'm going to take these cuffs and shove them down your throat." And then she was moving again, stomping through the thick crowds who all scrambled out of the way when they saw the look on her face.

As if the situation wasn't bad enough, Octavia hadn't even offered to help them. She and Raven had instead ran off to watch one of the acts and were probably so engrossed in the music and each other that they'd forgotten all about Clarke and Bellamy's dilemma.

Some friends, Clarke thought, deciding that she really needed to invest in a better band.

A security guard finally came into view, and though it wasn't the culprit, the two of them marched up to him anyway. Bellamy, chewing his gum much louder than was necessary, squinted at his name-tag. "Hey... Clyde. What's up?"

Clarke gave his arm a light slap- not because it was a particularly offensive question, but more so because she didn't like the sound of his voice. "Can you help us?" she asked. "We're looking for one of you security people. Preaching about love, stinks of weed. Ring any bells?"

The man- Clyde- blinked at her. "We're all high," he said gruffly, gesturing to the bong poking out of his bag. "Piss off."

He walked away then, and her jaw dropped incredulously. "Hey, fuck you!" she yelled after him, sticking up her middle finger and earning herself a few dark looks from people walking past.

Bellamy, clearly amused, grinned at her. "You're not really a people person, are you?"

She slapped him- harder this time, and in the face- and, ignoring his protests, continued walking. "I'm meant to be on stage in half an hour," she told him. "I can't very well play guitar and sing with you attached to me, can I?"

"I bet your band is horrible," he countered, and then apparently remembered that he was related to a member of said band and hastily added, "except O. She's great. And her girlfriend's probably pretty decent. Actually, I'm sure it's just you who sucks."

"Well," said Clarke flatly. "I can promise you we're no worse than your sorry excuse of a band." That was a lie- Octavia had shown them some of Bellamy's stuff and they were, surprisingly, quite good, but she'd die before she gave him the satisfaction. "Your latest single makes me want to pry my ears from my head with my fingernails ."

Bellamy made a face. "That was graphic."

"You bring out my violent side."

Luck clearly wasn't with, because when they made it to the small but packed tent her band was playing in, her boyfriend was stationed in front of the stage.

"Finn," said Clarke, surprised, as he wrapped his arms around her and left a trail of kisses from her temple to the corner of her mouth. "What are you doing here? I thought you said you couldn't make it."

Finn smiled at her. "I didn't think I could, but then-" He broke off when he caught sight of the handcuffs linking her and Bellamy. "Um, what's-"

"Oh, we're lovers," interrupted Bellamy casually, raising their linked wrists. "As you can see, the sex didn't exactly go as planned."

Neither Clarke nor Finn had the chance to react as Raven leaned over from up on the stage and hauled Clarke up- Bellamy, dangling awkwardly behind her, scrambled to push himself onto the stage as well- to face the crowd. Octavia was already standing to the side and strumming her bass, and Clarke could feel the heat of the crowd rattling her bones. Either the last act had been really good, or these misfits were excited for them .

Grinning widely, her anger at Bellamy not gone but pushed firmly to the side, she slung her guitar strap around her shoulders, before realising that she couldn't play with one hand. Her smile dropped- and she was going to kill Octavia in a way far less merciful than simple strangulation.

Sighing dramatically, Bellamy moved closer so he could reach the guitar properly, and his skin pressed against hers so suddenly she jumped. "I'll strum," he muttered, and there was no time to think of an excuse for him to not be so close before Raven started the beat and there was no turning back.

"We are Ark Nation," said Clarke into her microphone, not quite yelling but definitely loud enough that she'd be heard outside the tent. "And tonight is going to be a good fucking night !"

Ignoring Bellamy's amused quip in her ear, she began to sing.

The show was fantastic. Raven didn't skip a beat and Octavia played all the right notes and Clarke didn't forget her own lyrics as she sometimes did. The crowd was alive, possibly more so than at any other gig they'd played.

Clarke refused to admit that they sounded their best at the end, when Bellamy started harmonising with her.

The downside of the night- or morning, really, as it was about three- was when they finally stopped drinking and laughing in order to get some rest, and it became apparent that Clarke and Bellamy would have to sleep together. With Finn, too, because he'd got a few days off work and was planning on staying for the festival's entirety.

"Bellamy's not my lover," she assured him for what was possibly the billionth time, her words only slightly slurred, as they headed for her tent. "I wouldn't touch Bellamy Blake even if he paid me to do it."

"Ouch," muttered Bellamy, but they both ignored him.

Finn, seemingly insecure, attempted to force the two to let him sleep between them, but it was quickly discovered that if either of them moved while in this position, it would result in pain for all three of them, so he ended up shoved to the side of Clarke's bed of blankets and pillows.

The tent was silent for a few moments before Clarke, still somewhat drunk, started to laugh. Her giggles sounded through the small space and both of the men in her company turned to give her strange looks. She hiccupped lightly, and then laughed a little more. "This is nice and cosy," she said cheerfully.

"Go to sleep, Clarke," said Finn, rolling his eyes, and he turned back over to face the wall.

Bellamy, propped up on his elbow, frowned at the other man, before grinning down at Clarke, who was grinning so widely that it almost looked like it hurt. "I was lying earlier," he whispered, because, amazingly, Finn had already started to snore and he didn't want to wake him. "You're pretty damn talented, Griffin."

"I know." The words were said sleepily, and somehow she had gone from a thousand miles a minute to about ready to pass out. Her blonde hair was sprawled on the pillow under her, knotted and dirty, and her cheeks were flushed both from the alcohol and the heat. "You're not that bad either. You can strum a guitar, at least." She reached over Finn for her water bottle and groaned when she found it to be empty. "Fuck."

Almost immediately, Bellamy started pushing himself up and out of the makeshift bed. "Come on," he said, tugging on the handcuffs. "Let's go find something to drink. And eat- fuck, I'm hungry. Have we even eaten today?"

Clarke let herself be dragged along to the nearest section of food stalls because no, they hadn't eaten since before they'd been cuffed. While Bellamy filled up all of the bottles they'd brought, she examined the stalls- all of which were still thriving, despite the time- and eventually leaned over and said, "But I want them all ."

"You can have them all," he said as he straightened up. "If you've got the cash, which, considering you didn't bring your wallet, I'm guessing you don't."

That silenced her. Bellamy had offered to pay, but she supposed he didn't mean he'd buy her whatever she wanted. She did get a fair lot, though- when she asked for a hot-dog, an egg sandwich, a meat pie and a bowl of chicken nuggets, all he did was laugh and nod as they went to the respective stalls.

As the pair made themselves at home on a log in one of the camp's quieter areas, she looked at all her food with mild disgust. "There's no way I can eat all of this," she decided. "How could you let me get all of this?"

Bellamy shrugged, picking out one of the nuggets and tossing it in her direction. She attempted to catch it in her mouth but it bounced off her chin and landed flat in the mud. Gesturing for him to throw another, she laughed when he missed completely. "We're going to waste this entire bowl," he warned, but he was already picking up a third, and he cheered when this one finally made it to her mouth.

They didn't make it back to the tent until the sun was almost up.

Finn slept in, not waking up until around ten. He reached over for Clarke, only to find her and Bellamy still asleep, curled into one another with Clarke's arm slung lazily across Bellamy's side. Finn collected his things and left, slipping out as quietly as the two had slipped back in earlier.

In what was possibly the emptiest tent at the entire event sat three quarters of Bellamy and the Babes.

"How is this old loser even allowed to be here?" asked Jasper, nodding his head at the guy on stage. The man in question, Jaha, was spouting religious propaganda with a jazz beat while his backup dancers swayed behind him. Only about seven people were present for the performance- there had been more when he'd started, but they'd since wisely dispersed. "Is this even music?"

Monty shook his head. "No clue, man," he said. "I've got no fucking clue."

Sending them a harsh look, Murphy motioned for them to be quiet. "I'm trying to listen."

Snorting, Monty crossed his arms but complied with the request, returning his attention to the stage and to the 'musician.' Jasper, however, thought this a little too outrageous a request, and yelled, "You suck!"

The dancers looked at one another. "See, Kane?" said the female. "I told you the kids don't think this is cool anymore."

Kane glanced between her, an unaffected Jaha, and Jasper, before shrugging. "Fuck it," he said, already making for the exit. "I'm out. Abby, you coming?"

Abby wasn't far behind.

"I quit," Murphy announced suddenly to his friends, before jumping up beside Jaha. "Love your work, man. I'll be your backup dancer." Jaha still didn't appear to have noticed the departure of his former dancers, as his eyes were closed and he hadn't missed a word.

An old friend of Monty's was sitting a few feet away, listening almost as intently as Murphy had been. "Hey, Miller," he called. "Our bassist just quit. You want in with Bellamy and the Babes?" He turned to Jasper. "Hey, have you seen Bellamy anywhere?"

Jasper paused, and then, "Fuck."

"Where the fuck is he?" demanded Clarke as she tore throughout the festival, dragging Bellamy behind her. Finn- and all his stuff- had been gone when they finally woke up, and he'd left nothing explaining where he'd gone. They'd looked around the entire venue at least twice now, and he was nowhere to be found.

Bellamy, sick of chasing a ghost, planted his feet firmly on the ground, and his sudden stop almost sent her sprawling into the mud. She turned back and glared at him, one hand on her hip and a questioning eyebrow raised. "He's clearly not hanging around," he said. "You might as well just give up. Call him when you get home."

Clarke sighed and her shoulders heaved forward in defeat. "I was going to break up with him," she said. "I was going to do it when I got back- he couldn't even fucking take a day off work to see me play the biggest gig of my life- but then he showed up and he was staying and I thought maybe we could make it work, y'know?"

This situation was unfamiliar territory for Bellamy. Usually when a girl was upset over an arsehole boyfriend, he was the arsehole boyfriend, and he wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to go about comforting her. He settled for an awkward pat on the back. "How were you guys even together?" he asked. "No offense, but you don't seem very compatible. I mean, you're mental, and he- well, he wore a suit to a music festival."

This made Clarke laugh, but then she was tugging on the chain connecting them as she started to move again. "We need to find that security guard," she said. "We're both starting to stink and I really don't want to take a shower with you."

Eventually, they did find the guard. He stood behind one of the tents, flecks of mud in his blonde hair and a cigarette hanging from his mouth. By the look on his face as Clarke came hurtling at him, he didn't remember them. Christ. "Can I help y'all?"

Clarke, not smiling, gave a pointed look at the handcuffs. "You did this yesterday," she said, "and we want it undone. Just give us the key and we'll go. No one has to get hurt."

Bellamy snorted. "Were you planning on hurting anyone, Princess ?"

She scowled but otherwise ignored him, staring imploringly at the guard.

The guard dropped his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. He pulled a massive bundle of keys from his pocket. He rifled through them for a moment, before glancing up at Bellamy, and then stammering, "No can do. Lost the key. You're going to need a locksmith."

Clarke made an annoyed sound that vaguely resembled a growl and let out a string of curses. She hadn't seen Bellamy vigorously shake his head at the guard, telling him not to give them the keys. He didn't want to be free just yet.

"If you need any party favours, though, I'm your guy," said the guard. "I'm Wick, by the way."

Clarke gave a dubious look at the shower. "And you really think this is a good idea?" She chewed on her lower lip, leaning against the wall of the cubicle. It was so cramped that they could barely move without brushing their limbs together. She jerked away every time it happened.

"It'll be fine," Bellamy said, though he wasn't exactly sure how it was going to work. The shower barely had room enough for one- but they didn't really have a choice. They both smelled horrible, and people were starting to give them strange looks. Stranger looks by far than when they'd been handcuffed but clean. "We'll just have to deal with getting our shirts a little wet."

To encourage her, he undid the button of his ripped jeans and proceeded to do an entertaining stumbling-and-jumping dance to free his long legs. He swore when he hit his head on the door. Clarke laughed- she knew there was a reason she hadn't worn jeans- but she followed suit and let her stockings and skirt land in a pile on the shower floor.

The water was cold, and she flinched as she stepped into the stream. Her hair almost immediately started to frizz under it, but she didn't care- she was distracted by the fact that Bellamy Blake had nicer legs than she did. In what world was that fair? He caught her staring at his thighs, and sent her a smirk that she responded to with a scowl. "See something you like, Princess?" he asked, and she slapped his torso.

"Don't call me that," she said, but it was halfhearted at best. Something in her chest liked it when he did, somehow. She silently reminded herself that her brain, the rational part of her, didn't like anything he did. "It's demeaning."

When he turned around to grab a bar of soap, it became apparent that his arse was better than hers as well. This was getting embarrassing, she thought as she tried to keep her eyes up high. She had a boyfriend- maybe she did, anyway- and while Finn didn't have as nice an arse as Bellamy, he did have a better personality. Probably. She wasn't so sure anymore.

"Here," said Bellamy as he turned around. He didn't miss the way Clarke's eyes flew to the ceiling. "It's rough, but it smells like strawberries." He held out his hand and waited for her to take the soap from him. For a moment she just looked at him with her wide eyes, and with her golden hair curling around her temples he realised she was beautiful, and for the first time he took note of how close they were. They were practically pressed together, and it would be so easy for him to lean down and kiss her.

He didn't, though, and after a few seconds where all he could hear was the rushing of the water, she snatched the soap and turned her back to him, and the cuffs didn't give him enough room to do the same, but he had the decency to look away.

The Babes didn't find Bellamy, but they did find his sister sitting cross-legged in the grass and making daisy chains with Raven. Jasper dropped down next to Octavia and slung an arm around her shoulder. He beamed at her. "Hey, O," he chirped. "Haven't seen you in a while. What's been happening?"

In response he got an eye roll, and the object of his affections sliding away from him and closer to the Monty.

Monty glared at his friend. "Ignore him," he told the girls. "He hasn't been getting laid."

"I wonder why," muttered Octavia, glaring at Jasper, and Miller snorted with amusement. "He's such a catch."

"Where's your brother?" asked Monty, ignoring Jasper's incensed expression. "He's been MIA since yesterday, and we wanted to at least rehearse before our set tomorrow."

Octavia gave a laugh at this, the kind that involved throwing her head back and cackling like a witch. "He and our singer weren't getting along," she said. "Some crazy security guard shackled them together. They hate it. We haven't seen them since this morning."

"Oh, okay. Thanks."

As Monty pulled Jasper up, Jasper sent Octavia a final glance. "Go out with me!" he cried, pleading. "Please. You're hot as fuck, Blake."

Before Octavia had responded, Raven crawled over and kissed Octavia so suddenly Jasper choked on his own breath. "You- but- huh ?" he spluttered as Monty grabbed him by the arm and started to drag him away.

Octavia smiled against her girlfriend's mouth, and they kept kissing long after Monty and Jasper and Miller had disappeared.

It all went to hell just before dark. The Babes had found Bellamy and Clarke listening to a shitty electronic band, and Raven and Octavia had met them back at where they'd set up camp. Alcohol, again, was freely flowing.

"To a strange couple of days!" Bellamy announced, holding his beer up and waiting for everyone to knock their own bottles against it. He glanced down at Clarke, grinning. "To spending far too much time with a princess."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Fuck off," she said, dragging her drink to her lips. "If anything, you're the princess. You hog the blankets, you know."

Jasper's eyes went wide. "You guys have been sleeping together?" he cried. Clarke sighed, rattling the chain linking her and Bellamy. "Oh, right. Bell, she's not wrong- you totally are a blanket hog. It's pretty annoying."

Raising her eyebrows, Raven grinned. " You and Bellamy have been sleeping together?" she asked Jasper, who flushed.

It could've been minutes or hours later when Clarke leaned into Bellamy and the two started to kiss- they were too drunk for something as fickle as time to be an issue, but they certainly sobered when Octavia started to squeal in delight. "I knew there had to be a good reason why you told that security guard not to unlock you!"

Bellamy broke away first, gesturing wildly for his sister to shut up. "Not now, O!" he cried, trying in vain to cover her mouth with his palm.

"We what ?" demanded Clarke, jerking back as far as the chain would allow. "Wick told us he'd lost the key."

Bellamy hung his head, not meeting her eyes. "I, uh, may have implied we didn't want it," he said, stammering.

None of their companions were really surprised when Clarke slapped him.

"He gave me the key when Raven and I ran into him," said Octavia. She rifled through her bag for a moment before handing Clarke the key. "Here."

Clarke unlocked the handcuffs and watched silently as they fell into the mud. "You're a real dick, you know that?" Amazingly, nobody turned that into an innuendo. "And I was actually starting to think you were decent. Too bad, huh? I'm out."

She was gone before anyone had the chance to stop her.

Bellamy banged his head against a tree. "I'm such an idiot," he said.

"Yeah," agreed Jasper and Monty.

Miller sighed, not accustomed to the drama that followed Bellamy like a shadow. "This band is a fucking mess," he said. "No wonder your bassist left."

Clarke buried her face in her pillow. "I'm such an idiot," she said.

"Babe, no ," insisted Raven and Octavia.

Wick, who had reappeared to offer them more drugs, shook his head. "Boys are weird," he said. "I feel your pain, girl. I feel it deep in my soul."

While Clarke knew the last set of a festival was always the highest in energy and talent, and she'd been resolved to not miss it, she couldn't bring herself to leave one of the bar tents to watch Bellamy and the Babes close the weekend.

Raven, who'd dutifully remained with her while Octavia was slave to her sisterly obligation, passed her another shot of vodka. "This is why I don't fuck guys," she said. "They're all such losers."

"I didn't fuck him," said Clarke indignantly. "I barely even kissed him!"

Raven shrugged. "Whatever," she said. "That doesn't mean you're not acting like your husband of seven years just left you after having an affair with your teenage babysitter and you got stuck with the kids."

Clarke didn't know how to respond to that, so she stayed quiet.

That's when she realised the music had stopped playing, though it was five minutes before the Babes' set was scheduled to end, and, curious, she darted to the tent's opening and glanced out.

Bellamy was standing still in the centre of the stage, clutching the microphone with both hands, his tanned forehead shining with sweat. "I've had a really shitty weekend, guys," he announced to the crowd. "You know the feeling when you meet a really cute, really great girl- and then you fuck it up?"

A murmur of agreement ran through the crowd.

"Well," said Bellamy, "That's exactly how I've spent this festival. I won't bore you with the details, but it involved handcuffs- not, unfortunately, in any kinky manner. Anyway, what I wanted to say is: Clarke, if you're out there, this one's for you!"

Raven, standing by Clarke's side with her arms crossed, snorted.

The Babes started to play again, a more electronic sound than the rest of their set, and Clarke found herself leaving the tent as Bellamy's voice blasted from the speakers:

"Lying there on the midnight sand ,

he said he'd give her the sky if she held his hand;

she counted every star in the sky and said,

I- I don't want that, I want you instead."

Wick, standing at the edge of the crowd with a cigarette in hand, caught sight of her and grinned. "Hey!" he cried excitedly. " You're Clarke!"

Without waiting for a response, Wick was hoisting Clarke onto his shoulders before she even had a chance to protest. He started pushing through the crowd and when they were about halfway to the front, Bellamy caught sight of them and grinned, waving madly as he sang. "Everyone give it up for Clarke!" he yelled in between verses, reaching down to help pull her off Wick's shoulders and onto the stage. "The grooviest girl I know!"

The crowd, though confused, screamed wildly.

Clarke grinned as Bellamy pressed his mouth against hers, the energy of Jasper's keyboard solo vibrating in the hot air around them, and just as the solo was coming to an end, Bellamy held the microphone out to her and the sang together:

" You make me feel real."

"See, I knew handcuffing them was a great idea," said Wick triumphantly, sitting with Raven and Octavia as they watched Bellamy and Clarke make out on their sleeping bag. "I'm kind of a genius."

Bellamy and Clarke weren't paying attention, and didn't even glance up when Raven started hitting Wick with drumsticks.

The Babes never saw Murphy again.

A/N: thank god that's over- let me know what you think!