Chapter 1

Gatorade.

Bellamy stared at the text message that interrupted his reverie. Every day during his lunch break, he hid away in his office to do some recreational reading. In a way it was cathartic. Teaching mythology to a bunch of uninterested college kids day in and day out really took a toll on him; aside from the fact that most of those students only took his class to fill their credits, he knew he didn't have their respect. Having graduated only six months ago, his students were at most only 6 years younger than him and consequently regarded him more as a peer than as a professor. The number of young ladies knocking on his office door to ask for extra tutoring with insinuative winks and flirtatious giggles far outweighed the number of students who sought him out for real help.

Gatorade and saltines.

Gatorade and saltines and Coke.

Two more buzzes and he closed his book with a sigh. He picked his phone up and read the newest messages. A grocery list from his sister. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and snorted a silent chuckle.

I told you you'd get sick. Should've worn your coat like I told you. It's JANUARY, O.

Octavia was a grown woman, but he would always be her big brother and she would always be his responsibility. Their father walked out on them when they were too young to remember, and their mother worked her ass off to give them the best life she possibly could. But when Octavia was thirteen, their mother was diagnosed with advanced ovarian cancer. Bellamy started working at the library in the evenings and on weekends; when he graduated high school five months later, he got a promotion and a full-time position. After their mother died and a social worker tried to put Octavia into foster care, Bellamy took matters into his own hands. He met with an attorney, picked up a second job, and spent an entire weekend making repairs to both the inside and the outside of their house. The judge granted him custody, and he was able to take Octavia home. He was the only male figure in her life, as their mother chose to focus all of her energy and attention on them rather than dating, and so in a way he had always had a hand in raising her.

I'M not sick, jackass. Clarke is. If you'd rather come hold her hair back while she pukes, be my guest, and I'll run to Walgreen's.

But it wasn't just the two of them. Octavia's best friend Clarke had become a part of their family many years ago. The two girls had been friends since they met at a skating rink when they were ten years old. Clarke's mother had gotten hired as a surgeon at the county hospital, so she and her fiancé, Marcus, packed everything up and moved across the state to start their new lives as a family. Octavia had skated right over to Clarke, who'd been standing alone in the corner, and pulled her by her hand out onto the rink. They skated together all evening, and by the time Bellamy told Octavia to change back into her sneakers to go home, the girls had become best friends.

Over the years, Clarke and Octavia became inseparable. Playdates turned into sleepovers. Sleepovers gradually lengthened from one night, to two, to eventually a week or two at a time over summer vacation. They were together for the good, the bad, and the ugly. And by default, Bellamy was also there. The older the girls got, the closer three of them became. The day Clarke turned 18, she threw all of her belongings into the bed of her old pickup and moved into the Blake residence. She and her mother hadn't seen eye-to-eye for years, and naturally the Blakes, her chosen family offered to take her in.

Shit. Is she okay? Is it the flu? Has she checked her temperature? I'll get something for a fever just in case. Better safe than sorry.

Relax, big bro. I have things under control here. Clarke's in good hands.

Octavia, just last week I heard you suggest that Jasper treat a head cold with Dulcolax.

That boy has always been full of shit.

Bellamy chuckled and slipped his phone into his pocket. Hearing students start to file into his classroom, he grabbed his lecture notes and headed out of his office for his last class of the day.

"Gatorade. Saltines. Coke. Gatorade. Saltines. Coke." Bellamy mumbled Octavia's list to himself as he walked through the store, and added a "check" into the list as he dropped each item into his basket. Halfway to the cash register, a sign by the pharmacy pronouncing that it wasn't too late to get a flu shot reminded him that he wanted to grab something for Clarke's potential fever.

"Too many options," he grumbled under his breath as he stared at an entire wall of cold and flu medications. A hundred different pills, liquids, teas, powders, and creams stared back at him. Fifteen minutes of reading packages and an internal debate about trying to get Clarke's advice later, Bellamy finally decided on a box of Tylenol Cold + Flu and some Theraflu tea. He also decided that once Clarke was better, she would be selecting a variety of over-the-counter medications to keep at the house for the next time one of them got sick. After all, she was the pre-med student.

"O," he called as he gently kicked the door shut behind him. One hand hung his keys on the hook by the door while the other hand deftly dropped his laptop bag onto the floor but kept the Walgreen's bag looped over two fingers.

"Shh!" Octavia came scurrying around the corner with a finger to her lips. "She's asleep. Poor girl's been sick as hell all day. She skipped class this morning."

That rang a note of concern in Bellamy. Clarke hadn't missed any school since the day he met her. Though if his face showed any worry, Octavia didn't notice. She was slipping her coat on and reaching for her purse on the entry table. "You're leaving?"

"Yeah," she said distractedly, digging through her purse to find her car keys. "Lincoln's making me dinner, but I'll be back after to help take care of Clarke so you can get some work done."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders in a half hug and told her to drive safe before she pulled the door shut behind her with a soft click. He kicked off his shoes and padded into the kitchen, grateful that his socks silenced the usual slapping sound of his feet hitting the tile floor. The bag rustled loudly in the silence of the house. He poured some of the Coke into a glass and left it sit on the counter to go flat.

Just over an hour later he glanced up at Clarke from his spot on the recliner, a finger holding his place in his book and his glasses perched on his nose. She was starting to stir. Her eyelids fluttered open and immediately the harsh lamplight assaulted her senses, causing her to groan and snap her eyes shut again.

"Sorry," Bellamy whispered as he leaned over to flick off the lamp. He stood up slowly, being careful to minimize the creaking from the old recliner. His book fell between the armrest and the cushion, the page he was on completely forgotten. Walking around the coffee table, he leaned down and felt Clarke's forehead with the back of his hand. "Definitely a fever," he muttered. "Headache. Body aches too, I'm guessing?"

Clarke grunted in response and threw her arm over her eyes. The only light in the room came from the setting sun peeking through the blinds, but it was still too much for her tired eyes. She heard Bellamy's soft footsteps retreating into the kitchen. Though she knew he was doing his best to keep quiet, the whisper of his jeans brushing against the kitchen floor sent an irritating pain through her ear and straight to the knot behind her eye.

"Take these," Bellamy whispered. She peeked through one eye to see her best friend had returned. He was holding a glass of water in one hand and offering her two small yellow caplets in the other.

"Thanks," she whispered, then tossed back the pills and chased them down with the water. She felt him lift her feet and slide down onto the end of the couch. "Miserable, Bell," she whispered moments before sleep claimed her again.

"I know, princess," he whispered back with a sigh. He pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and threw it over them, her ankles crossed and resting in his lap. He leaned his head back and watched her sleep for a few minutes before sleep claimed him as well.

He woke to a kick in his stomach as Clarke wrenched herself into a sitting position. Her head was nearly between her knees as she vomited into the trash can Octavia had grabbed from the bathroom and left beside the couch. Within seconds, Bellamy had pulled her hair away from her face and started rubbing soothing circles on her back.

When the dry heaves and post-vomit body spasms subsided, Bellamy leaned back into his corner so Clarke could lay down again. "Feeling any better?"

"Headache's gone." Her voice was raspy, but she was glad the sensitivity to light and sound was no longer a problem. "Just wish my stomach would settle now."

"I may be able to help with that." He stood slowly and gently laid her feet on the couch. He crossed into the kitchen with long, purposeful strides. "Flat Coke always works," he called over his shoulder.

Clarke sat up and took a couple deep breaths, hoping the movement wouldn't bring on another bout of vomiting. "Old wives' tale."

"I'd say homeopathic remedy. Old wives' tales typically don't have any truth to them. Flat Coke always works." She took the glass from his hand and made a show of taking tiny sips, before he felt the need to remind her that 'it only works when you sip it.'

Clark snorted and rolled her eyes. "There's nothing homeopathic about Coke, Bellamy. And anyway, flat Coke is like a placebo. It's purely psychological."

"Then I'll just take that glass back and you can wait for your immune system to do the job itself." He reached out for the glass with no real intention of taking it from her, but she swatted his hand away just the same with a murderous glare in her eyes.

"You wanna die today, Blake?"

Bellamy chuckled and leaned back into his corner of the couch. "Get over here, Griffin. We should have enough time to watch an episode of How the Universe Works before O gets home." He stretched his arm over the back of the couch and reached for the remote on the end table while Clarke snuggled into his side. She rested her head on his shoulder and pulled the blanket over both of them.

It was one of their favorite shows, but even it was no match for Clarke's flu. The voices coming from the TV combined with the Tylenol that was still in her system lulled her to sleep before the first commercial break. Bellamy tilted his head to the side and peered down at his best friend. He wished there was more he could do to make her feel better. He always prided himself on how well he took care of his girls, but unfortunately the flu was just one of those things he couldn't protect them from.

Clarke twisted a little in her sleep, subconsciously trying to get closer to Bellamy, and Bellamy's body twisted to accommodate her without his mind even registering it. He pulled the blanket up over her shoulder and gently laid his cheek against the top of her head.

Octavia expected Clarke to still be asleep when she got home. She tiptoed through the entryway and peeked into the kitchen. She had expected Bellamy to be cleaning up from dinner, but she saw neither a dirty dish nor her brother. Walking past the living room to creep down the hallway and check their bedrooms, a mop of black curls on top of the couch caught the corner of her eye.

She was not surprised to see her brother and her best friend sleeping together with a forgotten docuseries droning on the TV. This was a regular occurrence in the Blake household. She wasn't even surprised to see them cuddling under the blanket Grandma Blake had made for Bellamy's tenth birthday.

Back in the kitchen, she scribbled staying at Lincoln's tonight, pizza tomorrow on me xo O on a sticky note before tiptoeing back out the front door and locking it behind her.