Chapter 2

A steady wave of aromas drifting from the kitchen began to fill the air in the living room and roused Clarke from her sleep. There was very little light coming through the window blinds; Clarke figured the sun was just beginning to rise. As the fog of sleep cleared from her mind she registered that she was on the couch, wrapped in Grandma Blake's blanket. She sat up and stretched her arms over her head, letting the blanket fall into her lap.

She noticed immediately that she felt much better than she did yesterday. Just a twenty-four hour thing, thank God. She felt none of the vertigo or sensitivity that had plagued her since she awoke the previous day, and the nausea was nearly gone as well.

She pulled the blanket around her and ambled across the living room to lean against the kitchen doorway. Bellamy stood in front of the stove, tending to two frying pans. Taking note of the white wire dangling down from his ears and disappearing into the back pocket of his jeans, she knew he was immersed in another world.

She hopped onto a barstool at their kitchen island, careful not to trip on the blanket, and rested her chin in her hands. The toaster had slipped her notice on the other end of the counter and she started with a squeal when it popped. Bellamy whipped around, a spatula raised in his hand. It was so comical and just so Bellamy that he was ready to defend her with a greasy spatula. She didn't even try to fight the laugh that bubbled to the surface.

"Clarke," Bellamy deadpanned. He tugged on the wire of his earbuds and wrapped it up around his phone.

"Yes, dear," she said through a giggle.

He let his lips turn up in a smile and playfully flicked her nose. "Seems you're feeling better."

Nodding, she hummed in agreement. "Almost back to normal. I think it's just a twenty-four hour bug. Where's Octavia?"

He tipped his head toward the fridge as he returned his attention to the pans on the stove. "Ah, shit," he mumbled, hurriedly turning off both burners.

Clarke slid off the barstool and walked over to the fridge. Her eyes skimmed over Octavia's note before she pulled the door open and grabbed a small bottle of orange juice. "Crispy and scrambled?" she guessed, shaking the orange juice. Admittedly it wasn't a difficult guess. Every time she or Octavia got sick, Bellamy made bacon and eggs for breakfast, and lunch was always tomato soup and grilled cheese. She reached in front of him and grabbed a small piece of bacon off the plate he was holding.

He lifted both plates into the air over her head and smirked at her. "Patience is a virtue, Clarke. Have I taught you nothing?" He had been smirking, but the smirk morphed into a genuine smile that let a peal of laughter escape him. Her frizzy hair was pulling free of a messy bun and sticking out all over. Her favorite baggy Ark U sweatpants were fraying at the bottoms. And she had once again stolen one of his tee shirts, because it would be a miracle if Clarke ever washed her laundry before literally every piece of clothing she owned was dirty. She looked a mess and she was ready to fight him. "You're awful feisty for someone who just cheated death."

If looks could kill, he would be halfway to the light at the end of the tunnel. She may have been glaring daggers at him, but the wrinkles forming in the corners of her eyes told him she was fighting a smile.

"I will start whining if you don't give me my plate," she warned, jabbing a finger into his chest. "I might even turn on the tears."

"Back to the couch, Griffin," he chuckled. "You've been up long enough." He heard her angry-sigh behind him as he grabbed two forks from the cutlery drawer and led the way back to the living room, knowing she would follow.

They each settled into a corner, Clarke's legs curled on the cushion between them, and Bellamy's feet kicked up on the coffee table. He handed a plate and fork to her, his own sitting on his lap. "How the Universe Works?" he suggested, knowing full well that he would be spending the day marathoning Gilmore Girls. He wouldn't exactly say he enjoyed the show, but if he were to be honest he couldn't say he hated it. It was just tradition when Clarke got sick. It had been a long time since she'd been this sick, and who was he to mess with tradition?

"Gil-"

"Gilmore Girls. I know, I know," he cut her off with an amiable grin, already bringing the show up on Netflix.


Clarke loved this - the elusive lazy Saturday. Between both of their jobs and her school schedule, she and Bellamy didn't get days like this very often. But they both really took advantage of it whenever the chance came. Clarke would call in sick at the hospital, where she worked part-time as a Medical Assistant, and Bellamy would happily pay no mind to the laptop bag that was perpetually bursting at the seams with papers needing graded and lectures needing planned.

At some point between the second and third episodes of Gilmore Girls Clarke found herself laying across the couch with her head in Bellamy's lap. "Feeling sick again?" she heard him ask, barely louder than a whisper.

"No," she answered as quietly. "Just a little tired." An unbidden yawn broke across her face, forcing her eyes shut, and she didn't bother to open them again.

Bellamy dropped his head back on the couch and closed his eyes as well, listening to Luke and Lorelai bantering on the television, and a vague thought comparing his and Clarke's friendship to Luke and Lorelai danced around the edges of his mind, just beyond his grasp. Without any conscious thought, his fingers found Clarke's hair and slowly, gently toyed with the strands that had pulled free of her bun until he fell into a comfortable sleep.


When Clarke woke up, she registered first that Bellamy was still asleep. She was curled up, her knees digging into the back of the couch and her face inches from Bellamy's stomach. She laid still, not wanting to wake him, and took a moment to appreciate her best friend.

For over a decade, he had been there whenever she needed him. When she fought with her mom, he was there. He answered the phone every single time she called, even in the middle of the night, and he let her vent to him. Sometimes she cried, sometimes she yelled. Sometimes they just sat in silence, and Clarke simply took comfort knowing he was on the other end of the line.

When she broke up with her boyfriend Wells right before the Homecoming dance her senior year of high school, Bellamy showed up at her front door wearing a tie and holding a corsage, both of which perfectly matched her dress. He waited in an extremely uncomfortable silence with her mother and Marcus while she ran upstairs to trade her pajamas for her dress.

She would always fondly remember when Bellamy and Octavia crashed Abby's wedding. Clarke stood in her place as Maid of Honor at the altar while Abby and Marcus exchanged vows. She saw her best friends sneak into the back of the church, and she knew they were there to give her moral support. They danced with her through the entire reception, and when it was all over they whisked her away to their favorite bar and got drunk with her until sunrise.

In her junior year of college, she found out her boyfriend Finn had been cheating on her. More accurately, he was cheating on his girlfriend of six years, Raven, and Clarke was the other woman. She had been out with Bellamy and Octavia one night when Octavia saw Finn with a dark-haired beauty. Long story short: Bellamy went home that night with sore knuckles, Finn went home with a black eye, and Clarke and Octavia went home having made a new friend.

But Bellamy was there for the good stuff, too. He signed up as chaperone when Clarke and Octavia when to France with their French Club. He was there when Clarke graduated high school as Valedictorian. He pulled some strings for her and Octavia when the college tried to enforce on-campus living their freshman year, and saved them thousands of dollars in room and board. He planned her a surprise party when she got hired at the hospital. "Bell, it's just a part-time Medical Assistant position," she had reminded him, to which he responded "It's the first step toward a full-time residency when you graduate med school."

Over the years, without even realizing it, she had gotten closer to Bellamy than she was to Octavia. Not to make light of her friendship with O; they were still as inseparable as they were when they were twelve. But she had opened herself up to Bellamy in ways she never did with Octavia. Even with O, she kept some walls up, but it was different with Bellamy. It had always been different with him.

Clarke smiled, an overwhelming feeling of happiness filling her as she thought of all the things Bellamy had done for her, all the ways he had supported her and shown her true friendship. But as the word "friendship" floated through her mind, she felt a hazy sense of sadness tugging gently at her heart, which she chalked up to her emotions getting jumbled from all the stress she'd been putting herself under at school and at the hospital.


"Damn, again?" Octavia asked of no one in particular when she arrived home from work that evening to find Clarke and Bellamy sleeping, once again, on the couch. She flicked the light on and let her keys clang onto the entry table. "Honey, I'm home!"

The sudden noise startled them awake and they jumped up in surprise. "Damn, O," Bellamy grumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Rise and shine, big brother!" Octavia sing-songed in response. "You feeling better?" she asked Clarke with the same glint in her eyes that was always present when she found them spending any kind of time alone together.

"Good as new," Clarke chirped on her way back the hallway. "I'm gonna shower," she called, pausing to look over her shoulder. "Can I borrow a shirt, O? Laundry was at the bottom of my to-do list today."

"Yeah, I bet it was," Octavia mumbled to herself. "Help yourself."

"What, you're too good for my shirts now, princess?" Bellamy teased as he passed her to duck into his room.

"Oh, hey!" Octavia hollered at them through their closed doors. "Pizza will be here in half an hour. And we're having company."

Both doors opened simultaneously and their heads popped out in unison. "Octavia." There was a hint of dread in his voice that was mirrored in Clarke's eyes.

"It'll be fine, you guys. Clarke's all better. And I'll handle cleanup."

Two pairs of eyes rolled up to the ceiling before they closed their doors again.


The ringing doorbell prompted Bellamy to peer through the peephole in the front door. "Octavia," he grumbled then opened the door with a friendly smile.

The pizza delivery guy stood on the doorstep, holding four pizza boxes and what Bellamy could only guess was a box of wings. He was surrounded by Lincoln, Jasper, Maya, Raven, Roan, Monty, Harper, Murphy and Emori, each of whom was carrying six-packs – some beer, some wine coolers.

Octavia appeared behind Bellamy and paid the delivery guy with a generous tip. As their friends filed past them into the house, Clarke emerged from her bedroom looking fresh and happy. Only Bellamy knew that the slightly grey tint at the edges of her irises was a sign of the exhaustion that had undoubtedly played a hand in yesterday's flu.

"You alright?" he whispered by her side in the kitchen while they were taking their turn filling their plates.

She knew better than to tell him she was fine. He wouldn't have asked if he didn't already know the answer. "Just haven't gotten all my energy back. I'll be fine by tomorrow."


Even though Clarke was still recovering, an evening of fun with all of her friends was exactly what she needed – what they all needed.

After five beers and three wine coolers, Emori was the undeniably the most drunk of them all. Murphy, who'd had only one beer, bid everyone good night rather early, threw her over his shoulder and carried her down to the car. Monty and Harper each had a light buzz and spent the evening sharing their funniest stories from bartending. Maya and Jasper sat together and listened to everyone else's chatting. They were still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, and were clearly having a hard time keeping their hands to themselves.

Raven and Roan stayed on opposite sides of the room all night. Their friends had taken bets on when the two would hook up. It was inevitable. Their friendship was a rollercoaster from heated arguments (Clarke loved to tell the story about the time the cops showed up at Roan's house in response to a domestic disturbance call from his neighbors, who thought Raven was going to lay Roan out.) to afternoons spent together in a comfortable companionship that was second only to Clarke and Bellamy.

When nearly everyone had gone home, Bellamy glanced over to see Octavia sound asleep on the loveseat next to Lincoln. "I'll handle cleanup," he mimicked under his breath, to which he felt Clarke giggle quietly in response beside him. When he made to stand up, her hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he turned to look at her.

"Not yet," she said and he sat back to let her snuggle into his side.

Half an hour later, Lincoln was asleep with Octavia, and Raven and Roan had snuck out. How the Universe Works was playing on the television, and Bellamy's head kept lolling to the side as he fought to stay awake.

When she thought he lost the battle, Clarke extricated herself from his arm and crept into the kitchen. She had only gotten the leftovers put into the fridge before Bellamy was there. "I can do this tomorrow," he said softly.

"I thought you were asleep," she turned to him, her hand still on the fridge handle. "You're always cleaning up after us, Bell. Just wanted to return the favor for once." She started gathering the plates from the counter until his hand came down on hers.

"Go to bed, Clarke." His voice was low. She could hear his concern in the way he said her name. She let him take the plates from her and lay them in the sink.

"We can do this tomorrow?" The exhaustion was seeping out of her, and she didn't bother to try to hide it.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Tomorrow."

When she walked out of the bathroom a couple minutes later, he was standing by her bedroom door with a pair of his sweatpants and another of his tee shirts. She smiled her thanks to him and he chuckled.

"I'll do my laundry tomorrow," she promised.