I am very sorry for the long wait on this chapter - truth be told, I started to lose inspiration for it - plus mixed with lack of feedback/interest I became disheartened. Thank you to those who have stuck by me :) I would like to dedicate this chapter to the sweet anon who sent me a message on my tumblr a little while ago - your message was the final push I needed to get my butt into gear and my motivation is back! So much so, that the next chapter is nearly finished!
As it's been awhile, I do recommend going back and reading previous chapters - there will be some time jumping into the past in this one (they're in italics).
Thank you to sponsormusings for pre-reading and beta-ing this story :)
Chapter 3
If it hurts and you can't take no more
Lay it all on me
No you don't have to keep it under lock and key
Cause I will never let you down
And if you can't escape all your uncertainties
Baby I can show you how
Let my love in, let me love in
Lay your heart on me.
"Octavia. Are you in there?" Clarke calls out, and knocks on the front door again. Putting her ear to the door she can hear the distinct sounds of someone being sick. She grimaces in sympathy and reaches for the doorknob – it's unlocked. Pushing the door open and walking over the threshold, she juggles a couple of grocery bags and heads to the breakfast bar. Dumping them unceremoniously, she observes the living room that's connected to the kitchen. It's in the middle of the day, but anyone would think it was late at night considering the darkness of the room. The shades are drawn and the only light is coming from the flicker of the television. Blankets and pillows are spooled out along the couch and a water bottle and an empty bucket sits next to the side table.
"Hello?" a weak voice calls out.
"It's just me. I came to see how you're going."
"I feel like I'm dying," Octavia groans as she comes out of the bathroom and slowly makes her way to the couch.
Clarke observes her, noticing that she looks tired, pale and weak. Some of her dark hair clings to her forehead thanks to a thin layer of sweat.
"Don't say anything. I know I look hideous," Octavia moans, trying to find a comfortable position amongst the pillows she has organised into a small mountain.
"You don't look hideous," Clarke reassures her kindly. "You look like someone who's got food poisoning."
"That too," she agrees softly. "I'm sorry I cancelled our plans, but you really didn't have to come over. I told you on the phone I was fine."
"I know you did, but you sure didn't sound like it. Lincoln's out of town and I'm assuming that since it's Tuesday, you wouldn't have told Bellamy you're home sick because he has back to back classes. Am I right?"
Octavia manages to muster a small smile. "You know me too well. If Bellamy finds out he'll insist on skipping for the day to take care of me. You know what he's like."
Clarke rolls her eyes. "Yeah I know what he's like," she mumbles under her breath. "It doesn't matter anyway. I'm here so you don't have to suffer alone. And besides I brought you some things," she says, walking back into the kitchen and reaching for the grocery bags.
"You better not have gone to too much trouble," Octavia reprimands feebly.
Clarke smiles to herself, no matter how sick and weak she is, Octavia will always try and fight you and tell you not to make a fuss. Searching through the bags, Clarke pulls out each of the items. "I got you some things from the pharmacy to help keep you hydrated, as well as a few magazines to help you pass the time," Clarke says and holds up the glossy covers. "Plus I got a few ingredients from the market to make you a soup. Don't worry its nothing too heavy," she reassures. "It will keep in your fridge for a while so it'll be good for you when you're recovering."
"The thought of food right now makes me want to hurl but if I had the energy right now, I would get up and give you a hug," Octavia turns her head and smiles at her.
"What are friends for?" Clarke grins as she brings the magazines over to Octavia and sets them on the side table.
"Not this!" Octavia snorts.
"Well just so you know I have doubled my fee for today," she says with a laugh. "Alright, you just lay there and rest - let me know if you need anything. I'm going to go and start making the soup." She heads back into the kitchen and pulls out a large saucepan.
30 minutes later, Clarke is adding all the chopped up ingredients into the saucepan and is just about to put it on the stove when Octavia suddenly sits up - now fully awake from her dozing and trying unsuccessfully to reach for the bucket on the side table. Clarke, realizing her distress, rushes into the room, grabs the bucket for her and places it under her chin; she does it just in time. Clarke pulls Octavia's hair out of her face and holds it back for her, away from the mess. After she expels everything she can Octavia leans over to pick up her water bottle. "You really don't need to be here Clarke. I'm sure I'm scarring you, having you see me like this."
"Don't be silly. I work in the health field, if you think I haven't seen worse than this then you are sadly mistaken," she assures her and leans over to the side table, grabbing a bunch of tissues. Octavia lets out a soft sigh as Clarke dabs the sweat off Octavia's brow.
"I'm just gonna go to the bathroom and clean up a bit," Octavia mumbles, standing on shaky legs and shuffling to the bathroom.
Clarke looks around at the mess of tissues and pillows littering the living room floor and begins to pick them up. Suddenly she hears the jingling sound of keys and the door knob turning.
"O, it's just me. Are you home?" A warm and manly voice calls out and it's all too familiar to Clarke's ears. Shit. Bellamy stops in his tracks the moment he sees Clarke standing in the middle of the living room. A flash of shock courses across his face for a moment before he turns his mouth into a sneer. "What are you doing here, Princess?"
"Pleasant as always, I see," Clarke remarks sarcastically. "What are you doing here?" She asks, purposely avoiding his question.
"I'm here to see O."
"You don't say? So am I," she replies back smartly.
"Cut the crap. Aren't you supposed to be at some conference with Lincoln?"
"Nope," she says, popping the 'p'. During the first few weeks after their initial meeting, Clarke learnt that he was easy to rile up if you either ignored or didn't answer his questions properly. Bellamy, she discovered, was one of those people who preferred the confrontation, the opportunity to argue and tell you exactly why you were wrong. He also liked nothing more than voicing his opinion, even if you didn't ask for it.
Clarke looks at his face now to see if she's got him fired up - his pursed lips, narrowed eyes, and his arms crossed in front of his chest tells her she's successful. Vagueness wins again, Clarke thinks with a smile.
"Seriously, what are you doing here and where's O?"
At that very moment Octavia cries out weakly, "Clarke, can you get me some water?"
"Not a problem, I'll be right there," Clarke calls out as she ignores Bellamy and heads to the fridge.
Clarke watches him out of the corner of her eye as he surveys the room. She sees him take in all the mess that consumes the space and watches as his mouth turns into a frown. "What's going on?" He demands more loudly.
Clarke, continuing with her pettiness of ignoring him, heads towards the bathroom with a bottle of water. She can hear his huff of annoyance and heavy footsteps following her. As Clarke pushes open the door, her attention is immediately drawn to Octavia who is lying on the bathroom floor and looking even paler. Clarke quickly bends down to feel her forehead - she's clammy, but not hot. Octavia reaches for the bottle as Clarke helps by raising her head so she can take small sips of the cool, refreshing liquid.
"Oh my god, O. What happened? Are you alright?" Bellamy's worried voice echoes through the bathroom, as he kneels down next to her and takes in her miserable and weak form. A moment later he lifts his head to Clarke and stares daggers at her. "What have you done to my sister?" He grits out in fury.
"Are you serious?" Clarke asks in baffled astonishment.
At the same time Octavia groans and says, "You're an idiot Bell. I've got food poisoning. Clarke's helping me."
Completely ignoring the part about Clarke, Bellamy's concerned voice hones in. "How did you get food poisoning?"
"These things happen, please don't stress. I'll be fine," she says, taking another careful sip of water.
"I think you owe someone an apology," Clarke demands, staring daggers right back at him.
"You're right," he says and turns his gaze softly back down to Octavia. "O, I'm sorry I wasn't here to take care of you." He tilts his head back and gives Clarke an arrogant smirk. "You happy?"
"You ass," Clarke growls.
"Please not now. Can't you take a day off from the fighting?" Octavia begs. "I don't have the energy or the patience to put up with this today. Save this weird-ass courting ritual you have for another day."
Clarke and Bellamy both gasp, clearly offended by the insinuation. Clarke can't believe Octavia just said that - she's about to argue her case on why them having any type of courting ritual is completely untrue and ridiculous, when she looks back down and takes in the current mess of her friend lying on the bathroom floor; she can't do it. She doesn't want to make Octavia feel even worse. She looks over to Bellamy and senses he's coming to the same understanding as his expression softens. They share a look and then a nod between them which signifies a truce - at least for today.
"Now no more talking. Just let me sleep," Octavia whispers and she begins to close her eyes.
"You won't be comfortable here. Why don't we help you to the couch?" Clarke suggests gently.
"She's right. I'll pick you up –"
"No," Octavia cuts in, her eyes still closed. "I'm staying here, the tiles feel nice," she mumbles, as she drifts off to sleep.
As they both stand up, Clarke sneaks a glimpse over to Bellamy - he doesn't look happy. "Once she's in a deeper sleep we can move her over to the couch," she suggests.
He nods his head in agreement as they both make their way quietly out of the bathroom and head towards the kitchen. Bellamy gets a drink and Clarke turns the soup on to boil.
"What's this?" Bellamy asks, pointing to the saucepan and the grocery bags scattered about on the bench.
It's a simple question but out of habit Clarke looks over and studies him carefully. There doesn't seem to be any animosity or underlying venom to his question. He actually looks genuine and curious. This is a first. It's almost unsettling…
"I'm making Octavia a soup. Well, really it's a broth," she explains, picking up a large spoon and stirring the mixture. "She's going to need something to keep her energy up and this will be easy on her stomach," she clarifies as she feels him watching her.
There's a moment of silence and then Bellamy's surprised voice cracks through softly, "You're making her soup?" The words sound so vulnerable coming out of his mouth that Clarke turns back around quickly to face him. She's amazed to see confusion on his face, like he's questioning whether he heard her right.
"Yeah, I went out and bought some ingredients," she explains. She watches him carefully, to gauge his response. "I also went to the pharmacy and bought her some magazines too," Clarke adds. He still looks dumbfounded. "Is there a problem?" She's not sure how to interpret his reaction. She's never seen this side of Bellamy – a Bellamy stunned into absolute and utter silence. This has to be the longest time they've spoken with each other without an argument occurring. It's new territory, so she's on edge.
"No." His voice is hoarse as he finally speaks up. Clearing his throat quickly he adds, "There's no problem. In fact…that's nice of you." And he gives her a small smile.
Clarke's eyes go wide for a moment in shock. Bellamy Blake, the bane of her existence, just smiled at her. She didn't bump her head and pass out next to Octavia on the bathroom floor, did she? Turning her attention back to the soup, she starts to stir it again and suddenly feels self-conscious. She doesn't know what else to say to him besides, "It's no trouble."
They stand in the kitchen in silence for a few awkward moments. As Clarke continues to stir the soup unnecessarily, an idea forms in her head that maybe this could be a new beginning for her and Bellamy. It's been fun in a way riling him up, arguing with him and pushing his buttons over the last five months, but to be honest it's also been difficult and exhausting. She knows that if there was a possibility of stopping what they were doing and becoming friends she would take it. However since they've met Bellamy has never indicated that he wants to change things between them - but today might be just the catalyst that he needs. This could be their new start. Putting the spoon aside she turns the soup down to simmer and turns around to face Bellamy, who is leaning up against the opposite counter staring at her. There's no animosity on his face, in fact, he seems relaxed.
Clarke racks her brain trying to think of something to talk about, her mouth opening and closing a couple of times like a fish willing something to come out. "Have you ever had food poisoning before?" She blurts out and as soon as the question is out of her mouth she wants to curl into a ball and die. Seriously? That's your question? She asks herself. Your first civil conversation between the two of you and you choose to talk about food poisoning?
Bellamy gives her a cheeky smirk and his eyes look at her in amusement - she wonders if he's thinking the same thing she is. Regardless, he answers the question. "No, never." And then after a beat he adds politely, "Have you?"
"Yeah - when I was 16; it was awful." Clarke turns her face into a grimace as a memory of those couple of days pops into her head. She knows exactly what Octavia meant when she said she felt like she was dying - Clarke remembers that feeling all too well. "It's not pretty, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy." Clarke tells him.
"Well that's good to know for future reference," Bellamy grins back boldly.
Before she can stop herself, Clarke lets out a burst of laughter, almost shocked at his reply. He made a joke – a joke at his own expense and now he's giving her a small smile and she's laughing. What weird alternate universe is this? Deciding to keep with the tone, she follows his lead. "Well what makes you think I don't have another worst enemy?"
"There's no one more suited for that job than me," he says confidently in his deep baritone, and he crosses his arms matter-of-factly. However his eyes still show a slight sign of teasing.
Clarke bobs her head in agreement. "You're one of a kind that's for sure."
After a pause Bellamy asks, "So what gave you food poisoning?"
"Oh, an undercooked hot dog," she says, blanching. "But obviously I didn't realise that at the time and ever since then I can't eat them."
"Well I know what I'll be shouting the group for lunch next time we're out," he tells her with a self-righteous smile, but the way it quirks up at the end tells her he's still joking with her.
"You're an ass," she says, but there's no real malice behind her words.
Bellamy looks over his shoulder back towards the bathroom and Clarke moves over to stand next to him. His gaze turns to worry as he watches Octavia, who hasn't moved and is still asleep. He looks like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. Looking at him more carefully Clarke can see dark circles under his eyes. For someone who's only 26, he seems much older. There's wisdom behind those fiery brown eyes, but she can also see a lot of pain. In this moment she feels sorry for him and breaks the silence gently. "When I was sick I spent two days on the bathroom floor, but I was fine and Octavia will be too," she assures him. "Try not to worry. She'll be better before you know it."
Bellamy's gaze stays focused on his sister, but he gives a nod of his head acknowledging that he heard her.
Walking back over to the soup she sees that it's ready and begins pulling out a couple of plastic containers. A feeling of warmness flows through her body as she senses Bellamy watching her. But for the first time she feels like it's not out of distrust but curiosity. It's comforting. This is progress, Clarke thinks, smiling to herself. It's like they're still being their usual selves, but the fire behind their words is gone. It's different. It's nice.
"So how's spacewalker going?" He enquires, breaking her out of her thoughts.
Clarke's body tenses and her eyebrows raise in question, even though her back is still to him. What's this about? "If you're referring to Finn, then he's fine. Why?"
"No reason," he says. Although Clarke can tell he's trying to sound indifferent. "He just didn't come out the other night, when usually he follows you around like a pathetic puppy."
"He does not and he was stuck at work," she defends.
"Hmmm I'm sure," he scoffs. "He seems to be busy a lot lately."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" She turns to look at him now with a hand on her hip.
"Nothing," he shrugs like he has no interest. "I'm just making an observation that's all."
"Oh, come on! Since when do you ever keep your opinions to yourself - especially from me?"
"You're right, Princess." And his voice and eyes turn hard in a nanosecond. "I don't."
Clarke sighs in frustration, rolling her eyes at the nickname. He knows it riles her up. Great, we're back here again, she thinks fuming to herself. Well that was short lived. Five minutes flat, and they'd done a full 360.
"You want my opinion? I don't like the guy," he states, folding his arms tightly across his chest, sneering in irritation. "I don't trust him, I know he's hiding something. No one's that perfect."
"You think everybody is hiding something – you think you're a goddamn human lie detector, or something?!"
"I'm always right," he fires back.
"You're not always right," she yells back with frustration. "You're a stubborn and judgemental asshole who uses his past experience and resources as a security guard to invade people's privacy!"
Bellamy scowls, his hard eyes narrow as he takes a step towards her; she knows she's hit a sore spot. "Speaking of liars," he spits out. "Have you told my sister about your past yet?"
Clarke slams her hand down on the kitchen bench and takes a step towards him. Their bodies almost touch each other, only a sliver of space lies between them. She stares up at him intently, noticing his heavy breathing hitch the moment he meets her eyes. The bubbling anger between them is still simmering, but there's a new electrified tension in the air now. He licks his lips and Clarke can't help but suck in a breath with wide eyes. She thinks she's falling into something she can't explain - she feels what she did on the first night they met, the adrenaline rush of attraction that had filled her from head to toe.
She quickly takes a step back from him and the tension between them breaks. Confusion begins to settle in. She turns her head away and gives it a shake.She doesn't even want to think about her body's ridiculous physical reaction to Bellamy. He's still an ass who's made her life hell over the past 5 months - when he's not insulting her taste in television shows (who the hell doesn't like Friends?) or ridiculing her leadership skills when a group of them went paintballing (her team still won), he's bad-mouthing her boyfriend or continuing to ream her out about her past.
She feels exhausted and wonders if she's suffering from a serious case of whiplash thanks to his mood swings today. "We're not getting into this again," she says looking over to him.
"What do you mean?" He looks puzzled, confused, as though he doesn't know what just happened.
"I mean you bringing up my past. We're not doing this here. Actually we're not doing any of this here," she adds as an afterthought. "Your sister is sick and asleep on the bathroom floor."
Bellamy winces and looks over to Octavia again, who's still asleep and oblivious to what just happened between them, seeing her is like an immediate bucket of ice cold water dumped all over them - bringing them back to reality. Bellamy looks down to his watch and grimaces.
Noticing his expression, Clarke asks, "Do you need to get back to class?"
"Yeah," he says begrudgingly. "But I'll email my professor and see if I can do my exam tomorrow. I need to look after O."
"Don't be an idiot," she says coming to stand next to him, but with at least an arm's length between them. Their short-term cease fire was definitely over. "You can't just not turn up to an exam. Besides I'm here to help - that's why I came over in the first place."
Bellamy looks at her carefully; Clarke can't decipher his expression or what he might be thinking. After a moment he agrees. "Okay, fine…thank you," he adds.
"I'm not doing it for you, I'm doing it for Octavia." She says, but it's not in malice, it's just a fact.
Bellamy nods like he's acknowledging where they stand on the matter. "I'll move her to the couch."
"Thanks," Clarke replies.
"I'm not doing it for you, I'm doing it for O," he repeats back walking to the bathroom. Once he places Octavia on the couch, he covers her up with a blanket and places a quick kiss on her forehead. He walks to the entry and picks up the things he dumped on the floor. Without looking back he opens the door and calls out, "See you round, Princess."
Just don't let him get to you, just don't let him get to you, Clarke repeats to herself over and over again, as she focuses on the dark road she's walking on. She isn't looking forward to seeing Bellamy again – her big problem with him these days is that even though he intrigues her with all his layers and mysteriousness, Clarke never knows what kind of mood he's going to be in, not to mention how he's going to react to seeing her tonight out of the blue. She'll learn soon enough though, as the Drop Ship Gas Station is getting closer and closer.
Clarke looks down at her feet which are starting to ache - the high heels she's wearing are gorgeous, but they aren't practical for hitch hiking and they're starting to turn on her. The diamante strap is digging into her toes, almost crushing them and the shoe itself is constantly rubbing against the back of her heel. Clarke knows she's going to end up with blisters, but she pushes through the pain as there's no way she's taking them off. Walking in the dark she has no idea what's lying on the road in front of her. The last thing she needs is to step on broken glass, dog poo or worse, some dead animal carcass – Bellamy would never let her live it down.
As she walks through the driveway entrance to the gas station her surroundings become clearer due to the building's bright lights shining overhead. Through the window she can make out the unmistakable figure of Bellamy leaning over the front counter. She watches as he runs a hand through his curly mop of hair a couple of times. It's pretty clear that while there's no customers around he's taking the opportunity to work on one of his papers, probably history - and knowing Bellamy, he'd be stressing over it unnecessarily. He's a model student and watches the history channel for fun - not to mention his living room is like a mini library. He has an entire bookcase dedicated to Greek history and mythology alone. Not that Clarke makes a habit of going to his apartment – she went there once, and one time only, with Octavia when she needed to borrow some books for a class. Once was more than enough.
As Clarke gets closer and closer to the automatic doors she feels a shiver run down her spine and a sense of foreboding, like she shouldn't be here. She feels her hands start to sweat thanks to her tight grip on her clutch and the jerry can. Stepping through the doors she psyches herself up - the quicker she does this the quicker she can go home, have a soak in the tub and snuggle up amongst the blankets in her warm bed and forget this night ever happened.
Clarke has never been to this gas station before; usually she goes to the one in the center of town. Stepping inside she notices that the interior is small and run down. The off white paint is peeling off the walls and she can hear the air conditioner giving a loud hum like it's nearing the end of its life. The side wall opposite her is lined with a few fridges filled with cold drinks and next to it is a small counter with a coffee machine and a portable oven. Five small aisles are created in the middle of the store for easy access to other food and supplies.
Hearing the click of her heels on the dirty tiles, Bellamy looks up, momentarily startled. His eyes go wide as he looks her up and down. Clarke doesn't know if it's because he wasn't expecting to see her or because she's wearing an evening gown in a rundown gas station and sticks out like a sore thumb. As she gets closer to the counter, Clarke can see his eyes drift down to the jerry can in her hand and she immediately sees a flash of worry cross his face. However the moment is gone as quick as it came and he narrows his eyes, quirking his lips into a shit eating grin, "Hey Princess, you been taking a walk in the woods?"
Well hello Mr Antagonistic, it's nice to see you again, Clarke thinks to herself as she drops her clutch on the counter with a thud. After her confrontation with her mother, thinking about the disaster of her relationship with Finn and her car running out of gas, she's not in the mood for any side of Bellamy Blake tonight. "Sure, I just did a brisk five mile walk and in heels no less," she bites back, rolling her eyes. She wiggles the jerry can in front of him. "My car ran out of gas about half a mile down the road."
"Oh dear Princess," he replies condescendingly, "Don't you know you need to check that you have enough gas in your carriage before you drive it?"
"Stop being an ass and just do your damn job," she retorts and tries to hand him the jerry can.
"I'm a gas attendant, not Prince Charming," he scolds and crosses his arms across his chest in a dominant stance. "And around here folks pump their own gas."
"You're not Prince Charming? Well ain't that the truth," she says sweetly. "Would you prefer Prince Man Whore instead? It has a nice ring to it."
She watches as Bellamy's nostrils start to flare and his ears turn red in anger. She knows it's a cheap shot and not an entirely truthful one. The fact is she hasn't seen Bellamy pick up a girl let alone take one home with him since around the time of her breakup with Finn. However a little voice inside her head tells her to keep going, even though part of her already hates the words that are about to fall from her mouth. "I'm sorry you have to spend your Saturday night here instead of between some walking STD's thighs. I've been on the lookout for you, but unfortunately I didn't stumble across any desperate woman on my walk here."
"Like you can throw stones," he sneers back. "The desperate Princess who hooks up with the first guy who shows any kind of interest in her." He spits the words out and places his hands on the counter so he can lean towards her, his steely gaze now only a few inches from her face. "Tell me, when you look for a partner do they already have to be in a long term relationship with someone else or is that just a bonus?"
Clarke feels like she just got slapped and takes a step back. She should have known that Bellamy would throw her relationship with Finn back in her face at some point. She already feels guilty enough as it is. From her shocked reaction she immediately sees Bellamy's face soften. He straightens himself up and moves away from her to stare out the window for a moment. "I'm sorry," he mutters. "That was completely out of line."
Clarke looks over to him in surprise. She's never seen Bellamy apologise to anybody before, let alone her. "Since when do you care about that?" Clarke asks, trying to get the guilty and choked up feeling that is starting to rise in her throat out of her voice.
He turns back around to face her with a serious expression on his face. "There are some lines you just don't cross. But I did and I'm sorry."
Clarke looks at him carefully; he looks genuine and she can see remorse settling in his eyes. She takes a deep breath and gives him a small smile deciding to let it go. "I'm sorry too – I was out of line as well."
Bellamy bobs his head in acceptance.
Breaking the awkward silence Clarke indicates to the jerry can. "I'm just going to go and fill this up," she says softly.
Bellamy opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but Clarke quickly turns away and heads towards the gas pumps outside.
She squats down next to a pump that's standing opposite the window Bellamy is currently standing at. His head is down again most likely looking at his history books. Clarke bunches up the material of her dress, trying to put it behind her and in between her legs so she can do her task as easy as possible – the last thing she needs is gasoline on her satin dress! She screws opens the lid of the jerry can, before rising to pick up the gas hose and sticking the nozzle into the can. Clarke watches the numbers move on the pump slowly, like they are testing her patience. Above her the florescent lights attached to the roof cover flicker on and off and a soft buzzing sound fills her ears. The ambience reminds Clarke of a memory and she feels her attention drifting off to a time three months ago.
The loud and heavy bass of the music currently vibrating its way through the dance floor of the Grounders Club is almost hypnotic, the lights above flickering on and off to the beat. Clarke weaves her way through the throes of people who are dancing and sweating it up to a new song called 'The City of Lights'. When the new singer – ALIE - comes strutting out onto the stage, Clarke knows she wouldn't be interested in dancing to her type of music – and she's right. Making her way over to the bar she hopes to find Octavia and Lincoln. She hates feeling like a third wheel to the inseparable couple, but she was desperate to get out and have some fun tonight. Although she's still enjoying it, work has been challenging lately, but Lincoln is a great teacher and has been very patient with her which she's grateful for. Bellamy has been hanging around with them on and off for most of the night. But she's been steering clear of him as he's been wearing a serious and annoyed expression on his face for most of the night, and she really doesn't want to deal with him. She needn't have worried too much though, as he's been on the phone for most of the night or talking to Miller, one of the security guards currently standing at the club's front entrance. From observing their interactions, they seem to know each other quite well. Clarke thinks they must know each other from when Bellamy was a security guard - he used to work for a high end company that trains and hires out security guards to establishments that need them.
Stepping up to the bar, Clarke sees it's absolutely packed with club goers wanting drinks. She sighs and moves herself over to the side of the bar where there's some open space left next to a partition. She stands in front of it and hopes it doesn't take too long for a bartender to notice her.
"…Don't tell O about this. I don't want her worrying." A deep and familiar voice utters behind the partition.
Clarke's eyes widen; even through the steady pumping of the music coming from the dance floor, she recognises the voice immediately. Bellamy. She doesn't want to eavesdrop on his conversation, but she can't help it when she's right there in hearing distance. A part of her is also feeling concerned about the worry in his voice and the mention of Octavia's nickname.
"Don't worry, I won't say anything." Another familiar voice answers. Lincoln. "But do you think it's serious?"
"I don't know - my old boss just thought I should know."
Too absorbed in the conversation and trying to process what she's hearing, Clarke doesn't notice the bartender coming over to take her drink order. She quickly tells him what she wants and then leans back as close to the partition as she can without knocking it over in order to see if she can hear any more.
"…I just hope the past doesn't come back to bite me in the ass," Bellamy states gruffly.
"Here you go," the bartender says loudly and hands her a beer. Clarke gives him some money and picks up her drink and tries to make her way around the bar. Suddenly someone knocks into her side and her drink almost falls out of her hand. As she tightens her grip on the bottle she feels a large pair of warm, strong hands gripping her hips to hold her steady. Looking up, she's startled to see its Bellamy.
He stares at her blankly for a moment like he wasn't expecting her, but then the tight grip on her hips loosen and he takes a step back quickly, almost like he's suffered an electric shock. His eyes narrow at her and then he looks behind her shoulder to the small area where she obviously just came from – right next to the partition. She can imagine his brain ticking over and coming to the conclusion on what she was just doing. His mouth immediately tightens in anger. "How long were you standing there, Princess?"
She's afraid to give him an answer as she really doesn't want to cause a scene in public but she knows she can't lie, especially not to him – the guy who prides himself in being a human lie detector. "I wasn't there long. I didn't know what I was hearing," she admits, looking up at him.
Bellamy takes a step into her personal space, his hard eyes meeting her unsure and guilty ones. "Well, what you did hear, Princess, pretend that you didn't," he grits out and then pushes passes her, heading towards the crowd without a backwards glance.
Clarke takes a deep breath to steady her nerves. She feels bad for eavesdropping - and truth be told she thought she would get a harsher lecture from him than that. Something is clearly off.
"You okay?" The strong and kind voice of Lincoln asks as he comes and stands next to her.
"Sure - I just had my regular weekly run in with Bellamy," she smirks up at him. "Where's Octavia?"
"Probably still in line waiting for the bathroom," he chuckles.
They both stare ahead, their eyes watching the club goers dancing and drinking away. Clarke can't help it as her eyes immediately find Bellamy. His tall and muscular physique is hard to miss amongst a crowd not to mention his dark curly hair. Tonight he's wearing dark denim jeans that hug his ass to perfection, a navy t shirt and a black leather jacket that highlights his broad shoulders. He may be an ass but Clarke knows an attractive guy when she sees one.
"You know, he's a nice guy." Lincoln tells her as they both watch him talking to Miller again by the door.
Clarke sighs. "You know you and Octavia have both been telling me that for the last nine months and I still don't see it. Well, I mean, I think I've seen glimpses of it here and there…" she trails off, thinking about the time at Octavia's apartment - the one time she and Bellamy had agreed on a truce for Octavia's sake. They'd actually had a small civilised conversation, a nice one that had included smiles and laughs - things Clarke had thought would never happen between them – but then it all went to hell again.
"I'm not saying it's an excuse, but he's had a tough life and he's protected Octavia from a lot of it," Lincoln explains.
"No one would deny he'd win brother of the year, that's for sure."
Lincoln laughs in agreement. "That being said, I think he knows he needs to tone it down a bit and I do think he's working on it."
Clarke looks over at him and smirks. "I'll believe it when I see it."
Lincoln however, doesn't answer her back. Clarke notices his eyes have suddenly narrowed and his jaw is firmly set. Clarke follows his line of sight – he's staring at Bellamy and another man at the club's entrance. The colored lights on the dance floor are still flashing on and off, so it takes a moment for Clarke to get her bearings and see who Bellamy is talking to. Clarke's eyes widen immediately and her mouth lets out a surprised gasp.
"Is that Finn?" Lincoln asks Clarke.
"Yeah," she confirms. What's he doing here? She wonders.
"How long ago was it that you broke up?" Lincoln asks.
"Three months," Clarke replies and brings her arms across her chest protectively.
As they keep staring at the uncomfortable and surprising scene in front of them, Clarke notices Bellamy getting up into Finn's face. He looks furious and is jabbing a finger into his chest. She has no idea what they're saying to each other due to the loud music from the dance floor but Finn looks nervous, almost pleading. Bellamy doesn't budge and just seems to get angrier. He must have said something to agitate him as the next thing she sees is Finn pushing Bellamy's finger away and then giving him a quick shove. As Bellamy tries to regain his balance Finn uses the opportunity to move further into the club. She can see him moving his head from side to side like he's trying to find somebody. Before Clarke can think of running to the bathroom in her continued refusal to see him, she suddenly sees Finn being flung back almost violently. Bellamy has his fists gripped into Finn's shirt and he's up in his face again. Clarke can see him spitting something to him as he pushes him out the entrance door, Miller right behind him as back up.
Only a few people in the proximity notice the commotion, but are quickly diverted back to their own devices now that the disturbance and excitement is over. Bellamy and Miller walk back into the club a minute later alone. She sees Bellamy look up to where he left her earlier; their gazes meet briefly as he moves towards her. As he gets closer, she can see that his eyes have softened and his body doesn't look as intense, but Clarke can still sense the lingering heat of anger vibrating off him.
"I'm assuming you saw all that?" He asks standing in front of her.
Clarke nods.
"Is everything okay?" Lincoln asks, his tone serious.
"Everything's fine," he assures. "He's gone and won't be coming back," Bellamy looks to Clarke when he says this.
There's a few moments of silence and Lincoln uses it as an excuse to go and find Octavia.
"You didn't have to do that." Clarke tells him.
"The guys a low life cheating asshole," Bellamy states angrily. "He had it coming - he shouldn't be hassling you after what he did."
Since the break-up Clarke wasn't sure how much Bellamy actually knew about the demise of her relationship. She certainly wasn't going to tell him and give him more ammunition to use against her. As she comes to the conclusion that Octavia must have told him, she quickly realises that Bellamy has not said one word or used anything against her in the last three months when it comes to Finn. What does that mean?
She feels a sudden warmth in her chest and gives him a tiny smile. "Thank you."
Bellamy looks at her in shock for a moment, clearly not expecting to hear those words. He nods his head and gives her his signature smirk, but it's more playful than anything. "You're welcome, Princess."
The sound of the gas hose clicking off and the pump machine making a loud protesting sound brings Clarke back to the present. Shaking her head to clear it, she places the nozzle back in its place and screws the cap back onto the jerry can. Standing up she tries to smooth out the crinkles in her dress. She lifts her head just in time to see that Bellamy is watching her through the window. His face is relaxed and he has a small genuine smile on his face, one she rarely sees. It doesn't last long though because as soon as he sees that Clarke is staring back, he puts his head down.
Walking inside, she can feel that the air between them has mellowed. She watches him pick up his text books and pile them on top of one another. She lowers the jerry can to the ground and reaches for her clutch, which she left on the counter. "So how much do I owe you?" She asks him.
"Don't worry about it," Bellamy tells her. "It's on the house."
"No, I couldn't possibly let you do that," she tells him, shaking her head and searching for some money in one of the inside pockets of her clutch.
"Please Clarke, let me do this," he insists. "You need to catch at least one break tonight."
She looks at him and he has that familiar determined look on his face. She doesn't feel she should question it so she nods her head and gives him a smile in gratitude. "If that's the case it means I have some money to buy some food," she tells him. She just remembered she barely ate anything at the benefit tonight and she's starving.
Bellamy gives her a cheeky grin. "Whatever the hell you want, Princess." And he indicates the small oven sitting over to the side. "I think there's still a hot dog sitting in there if you're game."
Clarke pulls a face and walks towards the back of the store, lifting her voice so he can continue to hear her. "I knew you would throw that in my face one day, that it was a mistake telling you my weakness. I'll bet the damn thing isn't even cooked, is it?"
Bellamy lets out a bellow laugh. "Well how about a bar of that Dove chocolate you like so much?" She turns to look over her shoulder, her interest piqued, and he points to the last aisle. "It's on the bottom shelf."
Clarke's eyes light up as she walks quickly to the aisle, her dress gently swishing from side to side. She'd been expecting Bellamy to make some kind of smart and sarcastic remark about the dress she's wearing ever since she turned up – but nothing. So once again his actions surprise her. Clarke bends down to search for her favorite bar of chocolate – she'd come across it after their group finished paintballing one day. One bite and she was hooked – so much so that she had to go back and get another one. She's quite surprised that Bellamy remembered.
"Hurry up so I can walk you back to your car," Bellamy calls out.
Clarke's hands stop searching the shelf and her brows rise up in surprise. "Um, you don't have to do that, I'll be fine," she calls back, feeling triumphant as she finds her preferred flavor tucked behind the plain milk chocolate.
"I may not be Prince Charming, but I'm a man who isn't about to let a beautiful woman walk back to her car alone in the dark," he states firmly.
Clarke startles, barely able to catch herself before she falls back on her ass. Did he just say beautiful? She wonders in shock, and she can't help it when her lips begin to curl up into a smile. This night has definitely been a night of surprises. As she pulls out a couple bars from the shelf she hears the automatic doors from the front entrance open and a quick rush of heavy footsteps.
"DON'T MOVE AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP, YOU TRAITOROUS ASSHOLE!" A booming voice yells out - a loud shot is suddenly fired and she hears something smash.
Clarke's body jolts at the sound and her eyes widen in fear. What the hell is going on? Still crouching down in her spot she tries to remain still and control her breathing, which is now coming out in soft short pants. She feels her heart almost beating out of her chest and blood rushing to her ears. She tells herself to calm down as she slowly and quietly eases her way to the end of the aisle and peeks her head out a fraction. She's horrified to see a tall and bulky figure all dressed in black and wearing a balaclava – and she feels the terror fill her completely when he shifts slightly and she gets a clearer view of him. A clearer view of him, and the gun he holds, that's pointing directly at Bellamy's chest.
As always you can find me on tumblr under peetaspikelets if you ever want to chat.
