It was raining. Not the light, twinkling kind of rain, but the painful, torrential rain that slams into your body with the force of a truck. Bellamy was sprinting across the road, leather jacket pulled up over his head, squinting as the pounding water impaired his vision. He burst into the first shop he came to, dripping wet and clenching his teeth.
Damn it.
He was supposed to be at his sisters apartment. She was throwing a party, Octavia style. In the mix of guests were people his own age ranging to people hers, three years his junior. The younger Blake had never felt any of the social restrictions of age.
It was 8:30. The sky, had it not been the same heavy, blackish grey all day, would be getting dark. And he was late.
God fucking damn it.
The cashier was giving him the universal look of 'buy something or get out' and Bellamy, in no mood to get into an argument, took the hint. Running a hand through his sopping wet mop of totally drenched black hair, he took a deep breath, and darted back out into the down pour.
"BELL I thought you had forgotten!" Octavia had her lips on his cheek and her loud, drunk voice over the thudding music in a second. People were packed into the lounge and kitchen, spilling down the hall towards the bathroom. Bellamy swooped the red dixie cup sloshing with something clear (but most assuredly not water) out of her hand as she swayed, grinning at people who passed them. When he took the cup she laughed, alcohol happiness bubbling her up.
"O, I think you've had enough," the older brother voice came into play, even though he knew it would do no good. Sure enough, he revieved a wide grin, a hand to the face, and a,
"Oh, Bell, lighten up! That girl I told you about's here!" As she span away in search, probably, of more alcohol. Sighing, and scanning the room for a familiar face beyond his little sisters boyfriend, Lincoln, and tipped the remnants of the vodka down his throat. For a couple of months, O had been blabbing about this blonde she knew called Clarke ("Like Superman Bell! Makes sense, Clarke is totally superhuman,") but he had yet to meet the new wondrous friend, a year younger than himself.
She better be bloody miraculous, and save me from this party.
He thought, somewhat bitterly, and followed his sisters pursuit of more drink.
It didn't take him long to find it. The island separating the kitchen and living room couldn't be seen, it was weighed down by so many bottles. For a second, she stared at it blankly, and reached out for something bright green, feeling adventurous.
A hand appeared over the top of the bottle, pressing it back towards the table.
"Not that," a light, female voice informed him firmly, "absolutely not that," Bellamy looked up, and found himself looking across the bottle island at a very, very pretty girl with the bluest pair of eyes he'd seen in his life. They were smiling at him, brow raised.
"Why not? I'm feeling daring," he countered, but let go of the bottle. She laughed, raising her red up and indicating with it towards a window, where a boy lent out.
"Hey, be daring. Only, don't end up like that. The green stuffs poison," he winced at the sound of a wretch, and someone yelled,
"Keep it down, Finn!" Bellamy looked back at the girl, who was pouring a shimmery, clearish-silvery liquid into a cup.
"Moonshine, however, is the hit of the night," with a smile, she held it out to him, and as he took it, something clicked: blonde haired, blue eyed, superman.
"Clarke," he grinned, taking a tentative sip of what he found to be the most heavenly drink, watching those incredible eyes widen in surprise.
"You know my name?" Somehow, she found a place to rest her arm on the counter, and lent forward as much as she could do over the bottles that were being plucked at occasionally by passers by.
"I do indeed. You're Octavia's new Princess," another laugh escaped the lips, and she took a drink.
"So now I'm to make a guess. Bellamy Blake?"
"The infamous," he knew he was grinning stupidly at this total bombshell, but he didn't care as he slugged back the rest of the drink. It surprised him mildly when she did the same without batting an eye, and the sweet swirling sensation the Moonshine gave him made him smile wider, and walk around the island until he was at her side.
"Clarke!" As he was about to say something that he hoped would be witty, Clarke was pounced upon by a striking brunette, giggling and followed by a puppy of a guy.
"Raven!" Chatter took up, and he subtly picked up Clarke's cup from the table, to refill it with the only drink worth drinking, along with his own, and giving the green stuff a wide berth (that Finn guy was still retching out of the window, and a semi circle of space had formed around him).
"Here," having been released by Raven, Clarke took the cup with a wink, and stepped back to allow him into their conversation.
"Oh, you're Bellamy," Raven smiled, twinkling her warm eyes at him before hollering, "Octavia, I found your brother!"
"Is he with Clarke?" Came the slightly slurred but equally loud reply from across the room.
"Yeah!"
"Hell yeah!"
"I'm not really related to her," Bellamy hastily told Clarke as Raven twirled herself under the lingering guys arm, waggling her fingers flirtingly at Clarke, who stuck her tongue out at her. She fixed her eyes on him, and made his head rush. But that could have just been the drink.
Keep it together,
He told himself firmly, but her middle finger pushed the bottom of the cup towards his lips.
"Of course you're not. Drink this, it'll tell you the same thing," it was hard to swallow whilst he was laughing, but he managed with minimal spillage. When the cup came away from his vision, he got a mildly wobbling vision of her grinning at him, and then tipping her drink straight back. They looked at each other, Bellamy feeling an equally wide grin on his face as the one on hers.
"Okay, Princess, lets go dance," he grabbed her hand and manovered around the table, bumping his hip sharply into it.
"Bellamy no! We can't dance!" Clarke laughed behind him, staggering into his back and grabbing his shoulders. He was about to turn around when her lips pressed against his neck. Even though the room was spinning, he was pretty sure everyone froze.
And then unfroze because he whipped around and slammed his hands on her waist, and his mouth against hers.
They were being buffeted around by drunken kids. They were in the middle of an overcrowded room with too loud music.
It was perfect. She tasted like Moonshine and sunshine. One of her hands was entangled in his hair, pulling him ever closer, and one was clenched into his shirt. They were stupid amounts of drunk, and didn't know each other at all. It was totally perfect.
Somehow, in one of those magical drunk somehows, they ended up in Jasper (Octavia's totally adorable roommate)s bed. Bellamy was too drunk to be careful, and they landed on it with a thud. But Clarke laughed, and pulled her shirt off, leaving her hair wild and splayed across the pillows. He kissed her bare stomach, fingers trailing down her hips, hooking into her jeans waistband.
Sitting up, her muddled fingers unzipped his jeans, tugged up his top. He pulled it off, watching her tug at his pants until they dropped. She flung herself back onto the bed.
"Come on," she giggled, and her pounced on her, ripping the lacy slip of underwear she flaunted once jeanless clean off.
"Sorry," he whispered against her collar bones, but her nails dug into his back, and she moaned. Their bodies moved swiftly, too quickly. Bellamy was gasping as her back arched beneath him.
"Fuck," he growled pressing his face into her neck and gliding him teeth over her skin. The whimper it produced sent him over the edge, and suddenly there were gasping and flat on their backs, side by side.
"I am so drunk," Clarke pressed her palms into her eyes, and rolled over. He could hear the sound of drawers opening, and admired her spine bending until she pulled up, tugging on a denim shirt.
"You okay?" He asked, catching a strand of her hair. She smiled dreamily at him, and fell back against his arm.
"So. Tired,"
Bellamy woke up, and took a deep breath. Across his arm was the most angelic face he'd ever seen.
He was totally naked. In a strangers bed. With an unknown angel. And a headache.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
Sliding as carefully as he could out of the bed, he located his jeans on the floor and tugged them on. On tiptoe, he crept from the room and into his sisters bomb site of an apartment. Octavia was sitting at the island, now totally clear of bottles. In front of her, a steaming cup of coffee called sweetly to her older brother, and he ventured forth.
"You shagged Clarke in my bed," from the couch, a skinny shirtless boy called out accusingly at Bellamy, who heard it with a start. Beside him, a pretty, curly haired brunette sighed in her sleep. Bellamy recognised the name Clarke, and cringed.
"Sorry, Jasper. It wasn't ... you know, intentional," Jasper grinned, and retorted,
"You're gonna wish it was. Clarke is so your girl," Bellamy could feel heat on his cheeks, and took a seat opposite his sister, who gripped her cup and gave him a shrew look.
"You shagged Clarke, and you can't even remember," she guessed, and he squirmed in the fact she was right.
"Come on. I was too drunk," this got a little laugh, and his sister brushed her fingers over his.
"I know. Still, she's still - Clarke!" Without really meaning too, Bellamy turned around on his seat. Walking through the strips of light cast by the clear morning filtering through the shutters, a bare legged, sleepy eyed wonder came dawdling in, smiling softly. His head did something quite acrobatic.
"Mornin'," she yawned, eyes flashing over Bellamy with a half smile. He wanted to bury his face in his hands. Or her hair. Maybe both.
"Good night?" Octavia chirped innocently, but Clarke gave a knowing sigh and moved into the kitchen.
"What kind of comment do you want me to make about me fucking your brother, O? I don't even remember," Octavia laughed, and pulled Clarke from the kitchen and seated her in front of Bellamy, who raised his hand in greeting.
"You have mine," she pushed the cup before her friend, a gesture Bellamy noticed hadn't been offered upon him, and gushed, "and you guys can, you know, talk!"
"No sex speak, mind," Jasper called hazily from his bed on the sofa, "innocent ears,"
"Don't worry Jasp, you'll just have to hear it from your bed," Clarke quipped, and the boy groaned.
"So. Morning," Bellamy fiddled with his fingers, not daring to look at her while she sipped the drink. He only looked up when it was pushed towards him.
"Have some. You look like you need it," she smiled, half her lovely mouth tilting up. Bellamy felt his churning inside still.
"Last time you offered me a drink I forgot where I was," he arched a brow, and took a sip. Clarke shrugged, a glint in those sky eyes.
"With me, you're always taking the chance," grinning into the coffee, he set the cup back on the table and steeled himself.
"Would it be safe to ask you for dinner, or will I wake up in Texas?" There was a heartbeat of a pause, during which blood flooded to her cheeks, but she dipped her head and said lightly,
"I normally aim for the Dallas area. Just so you have a heads up," he couldn't help touching his little finger to hers when she spread her hands wide on the counter top.
"YES!" Came a shriek from the direction of Octavia's room, and then Lincolns deep voice,
"I told you it'd be that quick. You owe me $10," meeting his eye across the table, Clarke grinned slowly. Bellamy shook his head, and whispered,
"I'm really not related to her," to which Clarke giggled, and murmured,
"We still can't dance,"
Bellamy was waiting in a cafe, watching the rain hurl itself at the ground.
Is this going to happen every time?
He demanded, eyes on the sky.
The cashier was giving him an icy look, probably because he was dripping water all over the white carpet, but Bellamy paid him no attention. He was watching the road for a grey ghost to appear out of the grey day.
And she did. Holding her denim jacket above her head, Clarke burst in like a hurricane. She flicked her mane of drenched hair back, and grinned at Bellamy. He took two steps forward and cupped her face, bringing her chattering lips to his briefly.
"It was raining for her last party," she noted when they broke apart, warily eyeing the horrific water.
"Must be an omen," Bellamy poked her side, and she put on a grave face.
"Don't end up in bed with a stranger,"
"Don't drink the green one," they both smiled, in spite of themselves, and she nodded.
"Got it,"
"Me too,"
"Shall we go?" Bellamy groaned. They were still two blocks from Octavia's and only a block from the station, that could take them back to theirs.
"We could go home instead?" He asked hopefully, knowing it would be futile. Clarke laughed, and tugged him towards the door.
"Don't worry. If the worst comes to the worst, there's always Jasper's bed," Bellamy squeezed her hand, and moved tentatively toward the door.
"That makes me feel mildly better,"
"He text me yesterday and not me he'd put a lock on his door,"
"Damn it!" The stood in the doorway, facing each other. Bellamy touched Clarke's face softly, and she lent into his hand.
"Octavia hasn't had a party in four months. We have to go,"
"We see her all the time!" Clarke looped a hand around his neck, bought his mouth to hers. Grazing her teeth along his bottom lip, Bellamy felt shivers ignite down his spine.
"I love you. Let's go,"
"That is not a fair way to force me into the rain!"
"Bellamy..."
"I love you too,"
They were drenched within seconds. Fingers intertwined, Bellamy couldn't have cared less.