Over the next few hours, Clarke learned a lot about Bellamy Blake.
First, she learns that Octavia still hadn't informed him of her presence or the fact that his room was no longer his room. That's why, after throwing on a towel and rushing out of the bathroom, she trips over his army issued bag in the middle of her room. With the lights off, she realizes, he must have not noticed the utter lack of Bellamy related things.
Next, she learns that he yells very loudly. She can hear him chewing Octavia out on the phone in the kitchen even after she closes the bedroom door.
Clarke also learns that Bellamy is just as grumpy as Octavia claimed. When she awkwardly meets him on the stairs (she, once again wearing clothes, had been going down to apologize and hand him his bag, he was storming up to probably interrogate her) he doesn't say a word to her. Instead, the disgruntled soldier grabs his bag, shoots her a glare, and marches past. The door to his mom's room slams and she doesn't see him until the morning.
In the morning, she learns that Bellamy Blake is very susceptible to guilt, yet very capably of holding onto anger. When she meets him in the kitchen at 6:30, he hands her a cup of coffee and makes her scrambled eggs. However, other than a mumbled apology and a few words about losing his temper, he doesn't speak to her.
She gets back from the hospital at 3:00 in the afternoon, looking forward to a nap before her next shift at 4:00 am and definitely not looking forward to having to interact with Octavia's brother. After scoping almost every room of the house, she comes to the conclusion that she is home alone for the time being. Flopping onto the couch, she flips through the channels before settling on a random Telenovela and pulls out her phone to call Octavia. The girl starts talking madly before Clarke has the chance to say hello.
"Oh my God, Clarke. I am so so so so sorry! He told me he wouldn't be back until September 15th, I swear! Apparently he found out months ago it would be shorter but wanted to surprise me. If I had known I would have warned you! Fucking Miller knew all about it but didn't think to say anything about you to him or about his plans to me. I hope he isn't being too bitchy, I swear I will kill him if-"
"It's fine, Octavia, really. Calm down."
"It most certainly is not fine, Clarke, I feel like an ass for doing this to you."
"You didn't know, Octavia. Really, its okay. I'm not mad at you. I mean it sucks to not have you here, I'm sure you can imagine how awkward it is, but really, its fine."
"If he says anything rude call me and I will-"
"He hasn't, Octavia. I promise."
"Bullshit. I know my brother. I bet you a million bucks, and I know you have that money Miss Griffin, that he will be a snarky little shit. That or he just won't talk at all but slam things a lot. Then probably make you his killer scrambled eggs with the cheese because he feels bad but he won't stop the slamming and the disapproving grunts."
Clarke had to laugh at how spot on Octavia was when it came to her brother. "Look, is there anything I should say or do? I mean he just came back from the war so-"
"No, don't worry about that, Clarke. Its sweet of you but you don't need to take care of him. He is strong, and if anything is up he will probably go to Miller about it. Plus I'll be back the day after tomorrow. Thanks, though."
Before she could respond, Clarke heard keys jingle in the front door and bid Octavia a hasty goodbye. His arms were laden with groceries and he gave her a small nod before going into the kitchen. Unsure of whether she should help him unload or not, Clarke tried to focus on the melodrama on TV and not the rustling of bags and slamming of cabinets. A few minutes later, the kitchen grew silent and she squirmed in her seat, trying to think of a time she had been more uncomfortable than in that moment. She couldn't.
For the second time in 24 hours, Bellamy Blake greatly surprised Clarke when he appeared out of nowhere and plopped himself on the opposite side of the couch. She stared at him in shock for a moment, before gluing her eyes to the TV. A few minutes of thick silence passed before his deep voice cut through the wails of the telenovela's heroine.
"So you eat as bad as O does, huh?"
Clarke's head jerked to the man next to her. For a moment she took in his low-slung jeans and simple white t-shirt, he looked very different out of the uniform he had been wearing the night before, younger she thought.
"I guess. I work at the hospital and have weird shifts so it's easier to snack instead of have real meals." She decided to try and lighten the air with a little laugh, adding, "Plus I'm not one to turn down take-out."
Bellamy didn't laugh. He didn't look at her either, choosing to instead focus on the soap opera that Clarke was sure he wasn't really paying attention to. "I got groceries." Well, duh. "You can help yourself to whatever."
"Thanks."
He just grunted in response and sank back into the couch.
Old man, indeed.
They both watched the telenovela for the next hour, neither one wanting to be the first to back down and leave.
He makes dinner that night. She tries to protest, saying that he doesn't have to go out of his way for her to which he harshly replies that it isn't for her and that he would be making it even if she weren't there.
She holds her tongue because unlike some people, she has manners.
Over a piping hot lasagna, he has the nerve to tell her that Octavia asked about renting a room months ago and that he had flat out refused. He didn't like the idea of a stranger in his house.
She wants to hit him.
She doesn't. Instead she takes another bite, feeling betrayed by the delicious food.
He doesn't let her do the dishes after dinner and rolls his eyes when she says she can pull her own weight.
She spends the rest of her night in her room pouting and complaining to Wells about how her new housemate is a total ass.
At 3:45 am she leaves for the hospital pretending she doesn't see him sitting on the couch staring at the wall, deep in thought with a beer in his hand and an empty bottle on the table.
After her early morning shift ends at 11, Clarke returns home. She has the rest of the day off and looks forward to catching up on sleep. There is no sign of Bellamy when she walks in and she thanks all of her lucky stars for it. When she first heard Octavia speak of her brother, Clarke had imagined she would like the man. But all her interactions with the dark haired soldier thus far had left her with a bitter taste in her mouth. To put it simply, he was an asshole (even if he did cook a mean lasagna and look a little too good in a simple t-shirt).
Dropping her bag in the middle of her messy room, Clarke collapsed into bed. Her shift had been awful. Three shooting victims had come in needing surgery, a bitchy teenager with a broken arm and piss poor attitude had given her flack, and an old man had flirted incessantly with her as she stitched up a gash on his cheek. Sleep could not come fast enough. For two glorious hours she remained curled up in a state of near unconsciousness until, for the third time in just over 24 hours, Bellamy Blake startled her.
He was using a blender in the kitchen below. It ran for a few seconds, stopped, and then ran again a moment later. As the pattern repeated itself, Clarke's anger boiled over.
Yes, Clarke knew it was 1:00 in the afternoon and most people would not be asleep. No, Clarke did not care that it was 1:00 in the afternoon and most people would not be asleep.
Bellamy Blake was going to die.
She marched downstairs like she was going into battle. Her fists clenched at her sides as she heard him continue turn the unbearable appliance on and off. Clarke didn't even bother to wait until she stormed into the kitchen to begin chewing him out.
"What the ever loving fuck do you think you are doing? I have been awake since 3:00 this morning and dealing with shit all-" her voice drifted off as she crossed into the kitchen and felt her mouth go dry.
Bellamy had clearly come back from a run, or some other workout. A grey, sweat drenched shirt was flung over his shoulder leaving his chest bare. His tan, muscled back was to her and with a blush Clarke noticed that his freckles were not limited to his face. For a moment she forgot why she was upset with him. Then he turned the blender off, stirred the green sludge inside, and turned it back on.
Oh, right.
"Is it really necessary to do that right now, and to keep turning it off and on? I mean you are not the only person in this house and if you think- Are you ignoring me? Seriously? What are you, five? God, grow up a little you asshole!" She put her hands on her hips and angrily tapped her foot. Yes the blender was loud, but not loud enough to block out- oh.
He turned off the blender and grabbed a cup out of the cupboard. Clarke tried and failed to not stare as she noticed how toned his arms were and the way his broad shoulders sloped to a narrow waist. Unfortunately, at the same moment she had her eyes glued to his body, he noticed he was not alone.
"There something I can help you with?" He had a knowing smirk on his face and Clarke hated him for it. She also observed the headphones he was wearing and realized that he hadn't been ignoring her after all.
"Yes, actually." He raised his eyebrows. Taking his headphones out, Bellamy leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms. She could hear the music blasting out of the ear buds from where she stood. "I would really appreciate it if you could make up your mind about whether or not the keep the blender on. And preferably, for you to choose to keep it off. Some people would like to sleep and that's hard to do with you flicking that damn thing on and off!" Her voice was hard and harsh and she reveled in the way his eyes widened a bit.
"Its 1:00 in the afternoon, Princess. I can do whatever the hell I want."
"My name is Clarke and I don't give a shit what time it is, I have been up since 3:00 in the morning and would like to sleep."
"And the world revolves around you, doesn't it, Princess?"
She practically saw red.
"I told you, my name is Clarke! Grow the fuck up and call me by my actual name! And no, the world does not revolve around me! Forgive me for expecting people to have a little bit of decency and understanding! If you had been up since 3:00 you can bet your ass I wouldn't be pulling this crap!" She realized too late that he had been up when she left that morning. Surprisingly, however, he didn't mention it.
"Well forgive the fuck out of me for being used to an empty house at 1:00 on a Thursday afternoon, Princess." His repeated use of that name made her blood boil.
"Clarke! And I get it. You don't like me living here. Suck it up and act like a fucking adult. I'm here to stay and there is nothing you can do about it!"
"You want to bet, Princess?"
"What are you gonna do, kick me out, Blake?"
"You bet you royal ass I will!"
"You aren't the only owner of this house!"
"Really, because I am pretty sure my name is the only one on the deed!"
"You are such an ass!"
"Whatever you say, Princess."
"Don't call me that!"
"Alright, Princess." He turned his back to her and poured his smoothie into the cup before beginning to clean the blender.
"Really? How mature. Glad to know someone as mature as you is protecting our country. Really makes me feel safe." The moment it was out of her mouth she knew she had gone too far, but she was just so angry and so tired and he was driving her crazy. Guilt, and a bit of fear, grew in her gut when his hand stilled under the faucet.
"Fuck off."
He didn't turn to face her and his voice was quieter than it had been a minute ago, but just as biting. She was torn between the overwhelming urge to apologize and her stubborn desire to not back down from the argument.
"Fuck you." She walked out having delivered the last word but feeling like shit.
Clarke hid in her room for an hour. She tried to sleep, but simply tossed and turned. She heard the front door slam at 2:30.
At 8:00 she wakes up from a fitful sleep. She calls Wells, makes some easy mac, and returns to her room. Although Clarke planned to stay up until he came home, she falls asleep at 1:00 am without having heard the front door once.
When she wakes up the next morning to the sound of someone in the shower next door, Clarke doesn't think she could be more relieved that Octavia comes home that afternoon.