Forever and always, you have all my thanks for supporting my writing. Regardless if you just read, or if you follow, favorite, or review, just knowing other people are enjoying something I've put together, makes me smile.
And now Chapter Ten? … Yes. Chapter Ten, a true monster of a chapter:
On Thursday Bellamy was sitting at his desk in at the university grading papers when his phone began to ring. "Hello?" he answered.
"Hey, Bell. It's O. I was just wondering if you could do me a huge favor…" he could hear the puppy dog eyes in her voice, a tone of voice he had definitely heard more than his fair share while raising this wild child.
"What do you need, Octavia?" he asked, exasperated; if only he had learned to say "no" to his sister at least once.
"Well, you know today is Clarke's birthday…"
"Yeah."
"And you know we're all going out to dinner…"
"Yeah…"
"Well…I was supposed to pick her up and bring her to dinner, but my client just pushed back the meeting until 4:30, and then I have to pick up the cake and such, and could you pick her up?"
"Yeah, sure, O. What time?"
"5:00. Thanks, big brother! You're the best! Got to go!" Octavia hung up before he could even say goodbye.
Bellamy shook his head at his energetic sister. He really didn't mind picking up Clarke to bring her to dinner. In fact, it was probably good because it meant she could open his present in private, instead of having everyone around them analyzing what he had gotten her, especially since they apparently had a bet going for when he and Clarke were going to hook up. He had laughed out loud at that text when he first got it from Clarke responding with a "Hahaha. Seriously?!" But she never responded back to him. She hadn't really responded to any of his other texts this week either, just short little clips after he had prodded her several times. That was another reason he was glad to have gotten Octavia's call; he could finally talk to Clarke face to face and ask what was up.
Since the Conservation Center was so close he had some time before he had to walk over; unlike Clarke he didn't have a car. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and took out a neatly wrapped box. He had agonized over what to get Clarke for her birthday, trying to determine what was appropriate for a, a—he didn't even know what to call the relationship they had; she was more than just his little sister's best friend, more than a co-worker, and yet just "friend" didn't quite sum it up either. Had someone told him seven weeks ago that he would care so much about Clarke Griffin or even that he would be buying her a birthday present, he would have laughed in their face. But now, Clarke had somehow become one of the small number of people he actually made an effort to talk to on a regular basis, a number that had previously only contained Octavia and Miller—Monty and Jasper to an extent, but they were usually the ones contacting him, not the other way around. Nonetheless he had never felt the urge to kiss any of those number, an urge that was becoming more and more frequent around Clarke.
He looked at the clock once more. "Well, being early never hurt anyone," he said to himself and began packing up his things. He grabbed Clarke's present and made the twenty minute walk to where she worked.
He walked through the front entrance and up to the desk, not knowing where to go or even where he was allowed to go; this place was kind of like a museum, right? Only without the exhibits? He shrugged.
A man in a security uniform looked up as Bellamy approached. "How can I help you?" he asked cheerfully.
"I'm, uh, here to pick up Clarke Griffin for a dinner."
"Ah, yes, she said something about that when she came in this morning. I'll just ring her and let her know you're here," he said, picking up the phone.
"Thanks, man," Bellamy replied, taking a step back and waiting patiently.
After a minute, the guard put the phone back down. "She's not picking up, but I can just walk you to her office if you want. She's probably just caught up or has her hands full at the moment. Oh and can you just sign into the visitor's log here? We've gotta keep those records straight."
"Yeah, of course." Bellamy told him writing down his name before proceeding through the door as the guard buzzed him through. He waited next to the office door for the guard to come out and show him where to go.
The guard spoke into a walkie-talkie, "I'm showing…"
"Bellamy Blake," Bellamy supplied for him.
"Mr. Blake to Clarke's, I mean, Miss Griffin's office. Shouldn't take too long."
"Roger that," a voice replied through the device.
On the short walk through the building the guard chatted amicably about what they do here at the conservation center. Bellamy felt like he was on an unofficial tour; he had already heard this and more from Clarke, but nodded along anyway.
"And here we are," the guard said as he gestured to a door with a printed note taped to the door that said "Clarke Griffin."
Bellamy could hear a muffled voice coming from within. "Thanks, man," he said to the guard who then began to retreat. Bellamy knocked tentatively. A few seconds later, Clarke opened the door her cell phone to one ear, her face a mix of emotions: anger, frustration, bitterness, sadness…he could go on. When she saw it was him, she looked slightly confused, but gestured him in and held up a finger and then pointed to the phone. Though he couldn't make out the words, the tone of the caller was far from pleasant.
"Mom! We've already had this conversation twice! And that's just in this phone call! I'm not going back to med school!" Ah, yes, the infamous Abby Griffin, Bellamy thought as he figured out who was on the other end of the line. "...No, I'm getting along just fine…I don't need your money, so you can stop with the trying to use it as a bribe…Mom, I have to go, we're going out for dinner and Bellamy just got here to drive me…Yes, I said Bellamy…no we're not dating, not that it's any of your goddamn business…He's smart and kind and fun and a really great guy; I'd be lucky to have him as a boyfriend!" Bellamy smiled to himself, slightly shocked to hear her saying the same things about him that he had been thinking about her not an hour ago. Clarke looked over at him, as if only just realizing he was standing right there. A blush rose in her cheeks. "Yeah, well, I'm hanging up now. Like I said I have a dinner to get to…Thanks, Mom, because your birthday wishes have such a hearty ring to them after this conversation," she said with a roll of her eyes, "Bye." She said curtly and hung up.
"Sorry about that," Clarke said to Bellamy. "I wasn't expecting the call and then Mom had to be Mom and bring med school into the conversation instead of just sticking to the 'Happy Birthday' that was the original reason for the call." She sighed and forced a smile.
Bellamy set her gift on her desk and rubbed his hand up and down her arm comfortingly. "Hey, it's fine. I'm just wondering if you're alright." He said soothingly, trying to catch her eye despite her looking down at her feet.
"Yeah, I'll be alright," she said looking up at him "Thanks, Bell," she added with a soft smile. "Anyway, it looks like I have a present to open, so that can lift the mood!" She looked over to the present he had placed on her desk.
Bellamy chuckled. "That you do, Birthday Girl. Here," he said picking it up and handing it to her. She slowing began pulling at the tape around the sides. "Oh my god, you're one of those people!" Bellamy teased.
"One of what people?" Clarke asked, looking up from the gift in her hands.
"One of the people who meticulously unwraps presents. Just tear into it!"
"But what if I want to reuse the paper?" She asked.
"You're really, truly, honestly going to reuse this paper?" He returned.
"I don't know, maybe."
Bellamy just raised his eyebrows as a response.
"Okay, maybe not…" Clarke admitted.
Bellamy continued to give her a pointed look.
"I'm not changing my ways at your bequest," she said giving him a challenging look.
Bellamy sighed, "Whatever way you're opening the present, just get on with it!"
"That's right, no more arguing with the birthday girl. It's my day, not yours."
"Whatever you say, Princess," he said with a smile.
Clarke continued her process of unwrapping her present, taking extra effort to be slow and meticulous just to annoy him. Soon she unveiled a box with a handwritten note attached to it. "Cards are supposed to go on the outside, Bellamy," she teased.
"Just read it," he said with a smile.
She pulled the note from the box and read it aloud, "A little birdie once told me that I owed you a cup of coffee for stealing yours, a traumatizing experience for us both. Seriously? Who drinks coffee with that much sugar? Anyway, here is me repaying you…" Clarke laughed. "You find my sugared coffee traumatizing?"
Bellamy joined her in laughter and urged her to open the box. She did and pulled out a hand-painted ceramic travel mug. On the side, in painstakingly neat script, it read:
Odi et amo, quare id faciam, fortasse requires?
Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.
- Catullus
"Catullus 85!" Clarke exclaimed happily. "It's one of my favorites! How did you know?"
"I didn't," Bellamy said, thinking of a rough translation of the poem:
I hate and I love. Why I do this, perhaps you ask?
I do not know, but I feel it happening and I am tortured.
"I just kind of thought it fit," he mumbled before articulating, "there's more if you open it."
She did and found a Starbucks gift card inside. She laughed gleefully, "Thanks, Bellamy! It's perfect!" She rushed over and tightly wrapped her arms around him in a hug.
He returned it happily, taking in her scent with a smile. "We should probably get going, though," he said.
"Yeah," Clarke agreed. "Octavia is not the sort to be kept waiting, even though I'm the birthday girl and it should be on my schedule."
"A princess is never late, everyone else is simply early."
"Did you seriously just quote The Princess Diaries at me?" Clarke asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Maybe," He admitted, "I did raise Octavia, she was really into that movie," Bellamy paused. "Or if you prefer: A princess is never late, nor is she early, she arrives precisely when she means to."
"And now you're quoting Gandalf," Clarke said with a laugh. "Let's go, movie geek."
"We prefer 'nerd,'" he said with a laugh, following her out of her office.
Clarke practically skipped into her favorite Italian restaurant, pulling Bellamy by the hand, the call with her mother completely forgotten.
"Where do you think you're going, Princess?" Bellamy chuckled, pulling her back a step. She gave him a confused look. "O rented out the entire back room for your dinner so we could be as loud and rowdy as we want."
She laughed, "Perfect!" And allowed him to lead her in the other direction, still holding her hand in his.
He opened the door for her and their entire group of friends shouted, "Happy birthday, Clarke!" as she entered. She blushed and thanked them, allowing Bellamy to direct her to the head of the table by placing his hand on the small of her back. Since he had come to pick her up, they had constantly been in slight contact like that, the hug which may have lasted longer than was usual for a simple thank you, him resting his hand on her knee in the car as he drove, them holding hands as they walked into the restaurant. Clarke began to overthink it, reminded of what her friends had been insinuating the other week, but decided it was her birthday and it made her happy, so, for at least today, she was just going to enjoy it.
Dinner proceeded with lots of talk, laughter, good food, and a bit of drinking. Clarke unwrapped her presents from all her friends which resulted in an assortment of new out-on-the-town tops courtesy of Octavia, a pair of shoes and accessories that made "the perfect outfit complete" from Raven who had clearly gone shopping with Octavia, two bottles of moonshine from Monty and Jasper who were both insisting their own variation was better than the other's, a specially engineered easel that folds up small enough to fit in a bag from Wick, and a set of paints from Morocco that Lincoln picked up on his last excursion. She thanked them all with enthusiasm.
"Wait, you didn't open Bellamy's present!" Octavia exclaimed.
"I gave it to her earlier, when I picked her up," Bellamy explained.
"Well, what was it?" Raven insisted.
"A coffee mug with a Latin inscription—one of my favorite poems by Catullus—and a Starbucks gift card," Clarke told them. It may not sound like much when laid out like that, but if she was being honest, it was her favorite gift she got, which may or may not be related to whom the giver of the present was.
"Which means you have to stop nagging me about stealing your coffee," Bellamy teased.
"I don't know," Clarke retorted with a mischievous smile, "You stole my coffee for no good reason, and it's my birthday so you had to get me a present. If you get me something you already owe me, does it really count as a present?"
"You are impossible!" Bellamy cried, but sporting a bright smile. "If you really want to be that nit-picky: gift card is me repaying you the coffee, travel mug is all birthday present, I put a lot of work into that thing!"
"Wait! You painted the inscription yourself?" Clarke said taken aback. "I didn't know you knew calligraphy! I thought you just bought it on Etsy or something! Bellamy! Why didn't you say something?"
"I, uh…"
"Now it's even more special! Thank you!" She jumped out of her chair and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. As she sat back down she caught the eye of Octavia who was looking smug. I've had too many glasses of wine, Clarke told herself. I always get affectionate when I'm tipsy. But even as she said it, she knew better than to believe it. And now that she knew that Bellamy had hand-painted the mug, she was thinking even more about the poem. She tried to remember exactly what it was; she knew the sentiment was basically Catullus bemoaning the fact that he was in love with Lesbia. Her brain immediately started to overanalyze, wondering if it could mean that Bellamy was in love, and hate, with her. But that couldn't possibly be right, right? Speaking for herself, she would admit it was true for her, but that didn't mean it was for Bellamy. Anyway, "Odi et Amo" is one of Catullus' most famous poems and it's short, so it could easily fit on a mug, that was probably all it was. Ugh, she was going to drive herself insane if she continued to think about all this.
"Drop Ship?" she asked the group.
"Drop Ship," they confirmed.
As they gathered their things to go Clarke turned to Bellamy, "Bell, do you think you could drive my car back to my place, I don't feel like I can drive safely and I want to put all these presents in the apartment?"
"Of course," he replied.
Raven gave Clarke a pointed look, Clarke just stuck her tongue out at her friend and said, "I was going to change into the sassy new outfit, accessories, shoes and all, but I don't have to."
"No, no. I'm not stopping you," Raven said and winked, "I'm just saying you have an interesting choice of DD, especially since I know you have driven under worse circumstances."
Clarke just rolled her eyes and walked out with Bellamy.
Bellamy was behind the wheel of Clarke's car, his thumb lightly dancing patterns on the top of her knee; this easy affection between them tonight was something he was definitely willing—and wanting—to get used to. She had a smile on her face as she stared out the window.
"Clarke," he tried uneasily, his thumb stopping its motions. He cleared his throat, "Clarke," he tried again.
She turned to him with a brilliant smile, "Huh?"
"I, uh…nevermind."
"Bellamy," she said in a warning tone.
"I was just wondering why you haven't been texting me back lately," he said in a rush. "And now I sound like a clingy teenage girl," he muttered in addition.
"I do respond to your texts," Clarke defended, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
"Yeah…" he admitted, "But not like you used to."
"I—" she started. Clarke heaved a sigh and let the silence hang for a minute before she resumed talking. "You know how I told you about Raven's bet thing?"
"Mhmm," Bellamy acknowledged, thinking back and remembering that was the last spontaneous text he had gotten from her.
"Well, Octavia was talking about us with Raven and saying that we—me and you—text each other constantly, basically like we're already in a relationship…and of course we're not," she added the last bit in a rush. Bellamy nodded his head, keeping his eyes closely on the road, not to looking at her. "And it got me thinking that I do text you a lot, and, and, I don't know. I guess it kind of freaked me out."
"Why?" Bellamy prodded quietly.
"I don't know…I guess because we're not in a relationship, but then again, friends text each other all the time, and we're friends." She paused. "Aren't we?"
"Why would you think we're not?"
"Because two months ago I couldn't stand to be in the same room as you, and it was the same for you, don't deny it."
"Things change, they evolve; it can be like that with us, too," he assured her.
"Yeah, it can. And today is a great day," she placed her hand atop his that was still on her knee, turned it over and interlaced their fingers, "and I've decided I don't want to go back."
Bellamy smiled, "Me neither."
Clarke emerged out of her bedroom, having changed into the new outfit that her friends had gotten her: a tight sequined skirt and a flowing blush-colored top with a matching necklace, earrings, and shoes.
"What do you think?" she asked Bellamy who was waiting in the living room. She twirled around in a circle and couldn't help but notice Bellamy looking her up and down appreciatively.
He smiled, "You look beautiful, Clarke."
"Thanks," she blushed.
"Are you even going to be able to walk in those?" he asked, pointing to her heels.
"Eh, I'll suffer through the night and then claim Birthday Girl Status and make you give me a piggy back ride home," she said with a smile. "Hmph, do you have your key to the apartment?"
"Yeah, why?" he asked.
"'Cause then I can just leave everything here and not have to worry about carrying anything; you can get me into the apartment, I don't need my ID or wallet because I literally work at the bar and everyone knows me and the birthday girl does not pay for her own drinks," she explained with a wink.
"Phone?" he asked.
"Nope. Anyone I would contact will be at the bar, and god knows Octavia will be taking more than enough photos to piece together the night afterwards," she said with a laugh.
Bellamy joined in and offered his arm formally, "Shall we?"
"We shall," she replied and they made their way to the bar to meet up with their friends.
...
Before long, Clarke was several drinks in and being a very happy and giggly and affectionate drunk. "I love you, and you, and you, and you, and you…" she told her friends, pointing around to each of the group individually. She leaned against the post next to Octavia and started petting her head, "…and especially you, O because you and I have lived together for soooo long and you still put up with me and love me."
"I love you very, very much, Clarke," Octavia told her pulling her down into a long hug. After being released from the hug after a short argument of "I love you more" "No, I love you more," Clarke lost her balance and fell backward into the lap of Bellamy who was sitting next to Octavia.
Clarke laughed at herself, "Whoops!" but didn't move from where she now sat.
"Princess, maybe you should slow down on the drinks," Bellamy suggested gently.
Clarke stuck out her lower lip, pouting, "But I'm the birthday girl."
"But if the birthday girl wants to make it past 11:00, she might want to slow down."
She heaved a sigh. "Okay," she said in a sad tone. She turned slightly in her spot on his lap so that she could put one arm behind him and gently started playing with the hair at the back of his head, "I love your curls," she said quietly to herself. She would be the first to admit that when she was drunk, petting heads and playing with hair was one of the main ways she showed affection to the people closest to her; usually it wasn't consciously that she did this, just a small way to be close to someone, but for the past month she had kept a close mind to keep her hands in check when it came to Bellamy's head and hair. It was especially difficult with those soft, dark curls and tonight she had already told herself she had free reign; it wasn't just "it's my party, I can cry if I want to," tonight's philosophy was "it's my birthday, I can do whatever the hell I want." She guessed she would find out tomorrow whether or not that was a good choice or not.
The conversation among the group continued to flow. Clarke kept her seat in Bellamy's lap, his arm resting around her waist, holding her in place. Any time Raven or Octavia would give her a pointed look, she would just give them a look that said, "I dare you to say something right now," which would usually result in them looking away with a self-satisfied smirk.
Nonetheless, it wasn't too long before she was getting antsy and abruptly stood up. "Let's dance," she announced. She tried tugging at Bellamy's hand, "Bellamy?" she pleaded.
"Maybe in a bit, Princess," he told her.
She pouted for all of ten seconds before turning around, "Octavia? Raven?"
"You know it!" Raven replied.
"Claro que sí!" Octavia exclaimed.
When neither of them succeeded in getting their significant others to go dance, the three girls huffed and struck out to the dance floor on their own. They danced solo and with each other, having a good time. At one point, Octavia broke off and brought back a round of lemon drop shots for the three of them, which they took with a shout of "To the birthday girl!" to which Clarke shouted "To me!" with a happy giggle.
Soon Clarke felt a pair of hands slip onto her hips from behind, at first she thought it was Bellamy, but when she turned her head to see, it was a guy she didn't recognize. "Wanna dance?" he slurred.
"No," she said shortly, turning to face him completely.
"Come on, you look like you're here to have fun," he said wrapping his hands around her and grabbing her butt. "Just one dance, Princess," he added.
Hearing Bellamy's nickname for her come out of someone else's mouth, especially a drunken slur from a stranger sobered Clarke up a bit. Not only sobered her, but also made her irrationally angry. "I said NO!" she told him in a harsh voice and kneed him in the crotch.
He immediately doubled over. "Bitch!" he yelled.
"You had better hope that was for the pain and not directed at her," Octavia said, coming to Clarke's side.
"Because we will beat your ass to Timbuktu if you were referring to her," Raven added.
It was then that Clarke noticed the rest of their group had risen to their feet, ready to defend her honor had she not already done it herself. She pranced over to them. "You know, the best way to prevent us from getting hit on by creeps is to dance with us," she told them with a coy smile and held out her hand to Bellamy.
He shook his head with an amused smile and let her lead him out onto the dance floor. But before they started dancing, he paused and cupped her face in his right hand. "You alright?" he asked gently.
"Yeah," she shook it off, "I've heard worse every time I work a shift, he was just a little more handsy." She shrugged her shoulders. "Care for a dance?" she asked.
"Birthday Girl gets what Birthday Girl wants," he said grabbing her hand and twirling her around. They danced together in much the same way they work together, seamlessly flowing from one move to the next as if rehearsed, fitting like two pieces of a puzzle. Clarke would have been more than content to continue like this for the rest of the night.
...
"I need something to drink," Bellamy said, shouting in her hear as is necessary when you're as close to the speakers as they were. "You want something?"
"I'll come with," Clarke replied and followed Bellamy to the bar. They waited patiently at the end of the bar, knowing exactly what it was like to be on the other side with hordes of thirsty drunks.
Harper made her way over to them before long, "Hey, Bellamy. Hey, Clarke; happy birthday!"
"Thanks, Harper!" Clarke said with a smile. "How's it going?"
"Busy, but not overly so. I've had much worse nights," she replied with a laugh. "What can I get for you guys?"
"Two whiskey sours," Bellamy said.
"I should have known," Harper said and began to make the drinks. When she finished, Bellamy fished out his wallet.
"On the house," a new voice said. All three of them turned, recognizing their boss's voice. Their boss, who had once told them that there is no such thing as "on the house" drinks, not for boyfriends, not for girlfriends, nor for family members nor friends, not even for themselves.
"Thanks, Lexa," Clarke managed to get out.
"No problem, Clarke. Happy birthday," Lexa said with a smile, an actual smile! "Well, I'm off again; I had just come to check on some inventory and order forms in the back. Have a great night, Clarke." And without further ado, she turned and left.
The three bartenders exchanged looks of confused shock. "What was that?" Clarke asked.
"I don't know," Bellamy said, dazed.
"She totally has the hots for Clarke," Harper said surprising them both.
"What?" they exclaimed in unison.
"Well, we all know she likes women, and when I heard she hired Clarke after seeing her once and in a position that would probably have gotten anyone else banned from her bars for life, I had my suspicions. Then right now with the free drinks and the smile…seriously, I have been working for her for three years and have never once seen her smile. Yup, she's totally into you."
Clarke thought about it for a second, "She's not so bad herself. If she wasn't my boss, I'd totally consider it."
At the comment, Bellamy spurted out the sip of his drink that he had taken. "Are you serious?" Harper burst out laughing at Bellamy's response
Clarke chuckled, apparently Bellamy had somehow missed the fact that she was into women as well as men. "Completely serious. You've got to admit she's gorgeous."
"I, uh—I need a minute," he stuttered.
Clarke laughed again and settled into a nearby barstool, "Take your time."
...
After chatting with Bellamy while finishing her drink, Clarke was starting to get antsy. She wasn't one to sit still when she was drunk. "You want to go dance again, don't you?" Bellamy asked her.
"Maybe," she said drawing out the word. "Come with?"
"Nah, I'm gonna see what Miller is up to. I'll find you in a little bit?"
"Okee-doke," Clarke said and bounded back to where Octavia and Raven were still dancing to their hearts' content. A song or two later Wick managed to convince Raven to take a breather and they headed to the table where others of their group were congregated.
Clarke was in the zone, swaying her hips, running her hand through her hair, and feeling the music. She had just finished twirling in a circle, feeling joyful and free when her happy, drunk high came crashing down; the last person on the face of the planet that she would want to see had just spotted her and was headed her way. No, not her mother, it was Finn Collins.
Clarke looked around desperately for backup and vaguely remembered Octavia saying something about bathroom or resting her feet or something. Clarke tried to make her way to the table of her friends and the safety in numbers, but someone from another group stood up and blocked her path. She whipped around to find another course, but now the very person she was trying to avoid was standing before her.
"Clarke! I was hoping you'd be here," Finn said. "And happy birthday, of course."
She plastered on a fake smile. "Thanks, Finn," she told him. "I really should be getting back to my friends though. Birthday girl and all, can't have the guest of honor absent," she tried to brush him off.
"No, wait! Can I just talk to you for one second?" he begged.
Clarke closed her eyes and took a deep breath, shaking her head. Finn Collins. At one point in her life she had thought she had a future with him. He was kind and sweet and knew how to make her smile with the smallest of things. They had dated for six months in Clarke's last year of college and she was just getting ready to say "I love you" when Raven had shown up at his apartment for a surprise visit. That was when she had found out that Finn had a girlfriend from his hometown who he had been dating since high school, but was attending school across the country. Needless to say, Raven was not too keen on Clarke, at least until she found out that Clarke had no idea she existed and felt just as betrayed. Then all anger had turned toward Finn. Bonding over their mutual broken hearts and hatred for the guy who did the breaking, Raven and Clarke had become friends. And despite Finn's efforts, neither had spoken to him in the last year.
"You know what, Finn? You had six months, six months, of talking to me and all you ever did then was lie. Why should I believe anything now?"
"Clarke, you don't understand. It's you who I fell for; it's you I love!"
Clarke couldn't believe this guy. "You are aware Raven is literally right over there." Clarke said pointing in the direction of her friends.
Finn at least had the decency to look startled. "She, but—"
"Don't even try, Finn. It isn't going to happen. It's over. Raven's moved on. I've moved on. You need to move on, too, preferably somewhere far, far away."
"Hey, Princess. Everything alright here?" Clarke heard Bellamy say as he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. Clarke was immediately brought back to the time that Bellamy had saved her from that creep—Craig? Carter? Something like that—and knew exactly what he was doing. She was ever so grateful and settled comfortably back into his chest and protective arms.
"Yup, everything is fine and dandy. Just having a quality conversation with my ex, who is coincidentally Raven's ex; we even have the same break up date with him; funny how life works," Clarke said her voice full of menace and sarcasm.
"Finn Collins I presume," Bellamy said. "I've heard many things, none of them good." He held out his hand like it was a normal introduction. "Bellamy Blake."
"Wait, Bellamy? Bellamy Blake?" Finn exclaimed, disregarding the outstretched hand. "As in Octavia's brother you can't stand? You're dating him?" He addressed Clarke.
"After spending some time with him, I realized he wasn't so bad after all," she joked.
"You're not so bad yourself," Bellamy returned.
Clarke turned her head and rose on her tippy-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. What she was not expecting was for him to be leaning down to kiss her on the cheek as well; their lips met halfway. Clarke was startled at first, her eyes widening slightly; she felt him freeze as well. They were supposed to be a couple and both being freaked out by a small kiss was not going to sell it. As if reading her mind, Bellamy deepened the kiss slightly, enough to make it a true kiss, and not some accidental lip bumping, and definitely enough to make Clarke's toes curl and electricity shoot through her spine.
Much too soon in her opinion, Bellamy pulled away. He looked toward Finn, whom Clarke had completely forgotten in those few seconds, causing her to look at him as well. All he did was scoff, turn on his heel, and walk out of the bar.
When she turned back toward Bellamy, his hands quickly releasing her waist as if burned, she realized what had just happened. She had just kissed Bellamy! The guy who, well, the guy she would admit that she had wanted to kiss, but still… She felt her cheeks flush brightly with more than just the alcohol. They had just gotten to a place where they were friends, and looking back several months, it would seem impossible to be where they are. And even though she might feel the urge to grab the back of his neck and kiss him properly right now, she couldn't do that; she wouldn't. "I, uh…" she started.
"Umm, yeah," Bellamy said his hand reaching up to run through his hair. "…I, uh, should probably get going…you know, early class tomorrow, and, um, yeah…"
"Uh-huh…yeah, um, thanks for coming out and the present and all that jazz," Clarke said awkwardly, fiddling with the hair tie on her wrist. "I'll, uh, talk to you later?"
"Yup! And one last time happy birthday," Bellamy said inelegantly.
"Thanks," Clarke replied. And with that they were both practically sprinting in opposite directions, feeling supremely awkward and not knowing how to act around each other at the moment.
...
When Clarke made it home later that night, or rather morning, she was much more drunk than she had anticipated getting earlier in the night. With each shot, she hoped that it could calm her mind and drown her racing thoughts about the kiss, but none of it helped her succeed in that mission. She saw Bellamy's sleeping form on the couch and tried her best to tip-toe to her room. Once there she lay on her back, wide awake, mind dizzy and racing, unable to sleep for a long while.
The whole table watched the exchange with Finn and Bellamy's intervention. When the three people who they had been intently watching for the past few minutes dispersed in three separate directions, one after the other, Jasper turned to Octavia, "And no, Octavia, that does not count for you winning the bet."
"Makes my prospects look a lot brighter though," Raven said with a smile.
[Backtracking here a little bit to get Bellamy's perspective because who doesn't want to know what was going through his head?]
They were in the bar and Clarke was feeling very loving, and expressing it freely. Bellamy smiled to himself as he watched her pet Octavia's head before getting pulled into a sloppy hug. The next thing he knew she was falling into his lap. "Whoops!" she laughed, but made no move to vacate it.
"Princess, maybe you should slow down on the drinks," he advised his a gentle laugh.
She stuck out her lower lip, making puppy eyes at him, "But I'm the birthday girl."
He was a sucker for the puppy eyes; Octavia had used them to manipulate him his whole life, but he tried one last line of reasoning, "But if the birthday girl wants to make it past 11:00, she might want to slow down."
He could see her weighing her options. "Okay," she finally professed. She then settled herself further into his lap and wrapped her arm his shoulders; he soon felt her hand running through the hair at the base of his neck and it was all he could do not to tilt his head back and moan in pleasure; he was a sucker for this kind of affection. "I love your curls," he could have sworn he heard her say, but it was so quiet he second guessed himself. He smiled again thinking about what it would be like to get his hands in her hair.
Bellamy followed the conversation the best he could, distracted by Clarke relentlessly playing with his hair. She started to squirm a little bit and suddenly stood up, announcing, "Let's dance!" She grabbed his hand that had been previously resting on her thigh and tugged, "Bellamy?"
Sure he loved dancing, and he would love to dance with Clarke, especially since it would prevent her from dancing with anyone else, but he needed to cool his thoughts a little bit first. "Maybe in a bit, Princess," he told her.
Clearly not too put off, she turned to the two people she knew would follow her onto the dance floor without a second thought. "Octavia? Raven?"
As predicted, they were up and out of their seats in seconds. All the guys decided to hang back a bit and let the girls do their thing, electing for a little quiet conversation over their beers. They talked about this and that, occasionally looking over to the girls on the floor. The next time he looked up and saw a guy sliding his hands onto Clarke's hips causing him to rise to his feet ready to tear the guy apart.
"What are you—?" he heard Lincoln ask. Then turning to follow his gaze, the large man also rose to his feet. The rest of the table followed suit, spying the guy grabbing Clarke's ass and the resulting look on her face.
But before any of them could make a step to help, they heard Clarke from clear across the bar, "I said NO!" And watched as she kneed him where the sun don't shine. They winced in sympathy, but nodded in satisfaction as he curled into a protective ball.
"Good for you, Princess," Bellamy said quietly to himself. Happy that not only did Clarke stand up for herself, not that he had ever doubt her; but also, his heart beat happily as he thought about how she had wanted to dance with him earlier, but shot down the first guy who tried and in such a definitive manner.
It was then that Clarke came bounding over to the table, a smile upon her face as if she didn't just knee some guy in the balls. "You know, the best way to prevent us from getting hit on by creeps is to dance with us." She held out her hand to him and Bellamy took it with a shake of his head and an amused smile, allowing her to drag him out to the dance floor; he wasn't going to turn her down twice.
Right before they entered the dance floor, Bellamy pulled her to a stop, turning her to face him. He brought his hand up to her cheek, tilting her face to look him in the eye, "You alright?" he asked, needing definitive proof that she was unharmed.
She shrugged her shoulders like it was not big deal that she had just been assaulted. "Yeah. I've heard worse every time I work a shift, he was just a little more handsy." Bellamy internally cursed himself for not catching the offensive comments when they worked a shift together and vowed that he would put a hard end to it, next time he heard something. Still unfazed, she asked, "Care to dance?"
He smiled at her happy-go-lucky attitude, nothing was getting to her tonight, "Birthday Girl gets what Birthday Girl wants," he told her as he took hold of her hand and twirled her onto the dance floor. He loved the way their bodies moved together in rhythm, seeming to know exactly what the other was going to do and responding to it perfectly. After a while he decided he wanted another drink and invited Clarke to come get one with him.
They were standing at the bar, having just received their whiskey sours when Bellamy heard a distinctive voice say, "On the house." The three of them turned toward Lexa, barely preventing their jaws from dropping.
Clarke was the first to regain her ability to speak and thanked Lexa.
She responded with, "No problem, Clarke. Happy birthday." And then she did the unthinkable. She smiled. Bellamy had never seen his boss legitimately smile before. To say he was taken aback was an understatement. "Well, I'm off again; I had just come to check on some inventory and order forms in the back. Have a great night, Clarke."
"What was that?" Clarke asked him and Harper, dazed.
"I don't know," he replied honestly.
Harper surprised them both, saying "She totally has the hots for Clarke."
"What?" Bellamy cried at the same time as Clarke, his mind reeling.
As Harper explained her reasoning, Bellamy thought back to the conversation and realized that Lexa had only ever addressed or even really looked at Clarke. He was brought back to the present when Clarke said, "She's not so bad herself. If she wasn't my boss, I'd totally consider it."
"Are you serious?" Bellamy exclaimed, involuntarily spitting out the sip he had just taken. That was far from the response he had been expecting from Clarke.
"Completely serious. You've got to admit she's gorgeous."
No, it wasn't the fact that she was into girls that took him aback; he was totally fine with that, his best friend was gay for crying out loud. It was just that he had never pictured Clarke on that same vein, let alone with stick up her ass Lexa. "I, uh—I need a minute," he managed to get out, trying to sort the (inappropriate) mental images that were filling his mind; he was a guy after all.
Clarke laughed at him and told him to take his time. She settled into the nearest bar stool and the two of them sat and chatted for a while. However, after finishing her drink she started to squirm just as she had earlier in the night. "You want to go dance again, don't you?"
"Maybe," she said drawing out the word. "Come with?" she asked, clearly having enjoyed their dancing as much as he did. Bellamy thought about it, but saw his friend sitting on his own at a table. "Nah, I'm gonna see what Miller is up to. I'll find you in a little bit?" Checking on Miller was all well and good, but Clarke was definitely his main priority tonight, especially after the conversation they had had in the car and the closeness they had been exhibiting.
As Clarke bounded back to the dance floor, Bellamy made his way to the table where Miller sat. Miller gave him a knowing look as he sat down, "How's it going?"
"Why do I feel like that was more than just a general 'what's up?'" Bellamy asked.
"You and Clarke. Dude, I'm not blind; you two have been on each other all night, not to mention the vibes you guys have been tossing around for the past month. Just ask her out already."
"I can't do that. We just started getting along really well and we're friends and I don't want to mess anything up. Not to mention we're on completely different pages."
"Ah, yes, her sitting on your lap and playing with your hair definitely shouts 'platonic friendship.'"
"She just gets affectionate when she's been drinking," Bellamy defended.
Miller laughed at him, "A, when was the last time she sat in my lap or Monty's or Jasper's or any other guy, drunk or not? And B, what excuse do you have for the hand holding I've seen on more than one occasion? Not to mention you two were basically playing footsie at dinner at one point."
"I, uh…"
"Just pluck up the courage and ask her. You were in the army, goddammit, Blake! You faced combat in foreign countries and asking out a girl who you'd get a guarantee 'yes' out of has you quaking in your boots?"
Bellamy opened his mouth, about to respond when Raven and Wick slid into the booth, soon followed by Jasper, and Maya. "What we talking about?" Raven asked.
"Nothing," Bellamy responded quickly before Miller could say anything contrary.
Raven shrugged it off and began a rant about the DJ and his choice of music, which was good except that every fifth song was some horrible remix obviously done by an amateur, probably the DJ himself. Before long, Octavia joined the table as well, electing to use Lincoln as a seat instead of an actual chair. Bellamy gave her a pointed look to which she responded by snuggling closer to her boyfriend and sticking her tongue out at him. He had to admit that Lincoln wasn't a bad guy and that he genuinely cared for Octavia. However, that still didn't mean that Bellamy wanted to see his baby sister hanging all over some guy.
"Oh no," Raven said, breaking Bellamy out of his thoughts.
"What?" Octavia asked, concern over the worried tone of her friend's voice.
"Finn," was all Raven responded. The entire group turned to see the floppy haired jackass who had broken both Clarke and Raven's hearts; the air turned immediately sour. Bellamy got to his feet as soon as he saw Finn heading in Clarke's direction; there was no way he was letting her face this jerk alone.
As he approached, a plan formed in his mind: the best way to get rid of a lying piece of shit was to convince him that Clarke had moved on and was far happier without him in her life. He heard Clarke talking, frustration and venom lacing her normally kind voice, "Don't even try, Finn. It isn't going to happen. It's over. Raven's moved on. I've moved on. You need to move on, too, preferably somewhere far, far away."
Perfect timing, he thought to himself. Coming from behind, he slid his hands around Clarke's waist, hoping she would catch on to his plan. "Hey, Princess. Everything alright here?"
"Yup," she responded, leaning into his body just as he trusted she would; the back of his mind registered how much he liked the feeling of her in his arms and against his body, how they fit perfectly together. "Everything is fine and dandy. Just having a quality conversation with my ex, who is coincidentally Raven's ex; we even have the same break up date with him; funny how life works." Bellamy could literally feel her body shaking with anger, though she managed to keep the worst of it out of her voice.
Bellamy had heard the whole story from Octavia shortly after the whole Finn debacle happened. He had called her to complain to her for cancelling their weekend plans, but she had gone on a rant about a "fucking douchebag named Finn who doesn't deserve to see the light of day" and told him that there was no way in hell she was leaving Clarke alone for so much as an hour. Even when he had not been Clarke's biggest fan, he had been pissed that a guy could be such an asshole to anyone, let alone two girls. But now that he cared so much about Clarke, and Raven too, he wanted nothing more than to knock this guy out. Trying his best to keep only the right amount of malice in his voice, "Finn Collins I presume. I've heard many things, none of them good." He held out his hand like this was a casual meeting. Part of him was begging Finn to take it so he could break the jackass's hand. "Bellamy Blake," he introduced himself.
"Wait, Bellamy? Bellamy Blake? As in Octavia's brother you can't stand? You're dating him?" He was now completely ignoring Bellamy.
"After spending some time with him, I realized he wasn't so bad after all," Clarke told him, a genuine smile could be heard in her voice.
"You're not so bad yourself," Bellamy's own smile evident in his tone.
He leaned down to kiss her cheek to show the affection of a loving boyfriend, plus it was the closest he would get to actually kissing her. At least, that was what he thought the split second before he felt her lips on his. He froze for a half-second comprehending that he was actually kissing Clarke before he deepened it. He made sure to keep it chaste, but his mind and body were begging him to turn her around, pull her in closer, and kiss her like he had been wanting to ever since she had written that teasing poem in the book she'd given him. Not fully trusting himself not to do this, he pulled back.
He turned to look to Finn to see if his original aim at succeeded only to have him sneer and walk away without another word. Clarke now turned to face him completely, he dropped his hands quickly, telling himself the charade was over and he couldn't give in to the urges his mind was still playing in the background. "I, uh…" she started to say something and then stopped.
"Umm, yeah," Bellamy said, feeling awkward and nervous. Kissing Clarke had not been part of his plan, and like he had told Miller he didn't want to ruin the friendship the two of them had formed over the past months. "…I, uh, should probably get going…you know, early class tomorrow, and, um, yeah…" Okay, so the class he was TA-ing was at noon and he'd definitely gone to it with only three hours of sleep before, but he felt the need to get out of this situation as fast as he could.
"Uh-huh…yeah, um, thanks for coming out and the present and all that jazz," Clarke stuttered, as she fiddled with the hair tie on her wrist, a nervous habit of hers he had noticed before. "I'll, uh, talk to you later?" she asked both anxiously and hopefully.
"Yup! And one last time happy birthday," he responded.
"Thanks," she told him before they both quickly made their way in opposite directions.
...
Bellamy let himself into Octavia and Clarke's apartment and settled onto the couch. He lay awake staring at the ceiling for a while, lingering on the feeling of Clarke's lips on his. He eventually fell asleep, but was woken up some time later to someone entering the apartment. Despite her best efforts, Clarke was not the quietest drunk while she found her way to her bedroom. He sighed. He would find some way to get them back to where they were at the very least. He couldn't lose what they had, because Clarke as a friend was better than no Clarke at all.
The next morning Clarke woke up to a pounding head. She groaned and rolled out of bed, padding her way into the kitchen. Birthdays are all well and good, but she should have thought about the consequences of the following day before she took that last shot. "I'm never drinking again," she muttered to herself. Everyone always says that, but then the next weekend swings around and what are they doing? Drinking.
When she reached the coffee pot, she saw a note sticking out from underneath.
Dear Princess,
1)
Just hit start on the coffee maker, everything is already to go
2)An Orlando's Breakfast Pizza is being delivered to your apartment at 11:00
3)Have a great day off. Enjoy it because some of us actually have to work this morning
~ Bellamy
PS I'm adding another favor to your list for that save with Finn last night.
I believe that makes two
Clarke smiled. Hit start on coffee maker and checked the time: 10:47. Today was off to a great start. She had coffee and the best hangover pizza on the way and apparently the awkwardness from the night before was being forgotten. Well, at least she hoped her and Bellamy could go back to the bantering selves in person as well as it seemed they were from the note. Then again, if her brain couldn't stop thinking about how his lips felt on hers in that brief moment, just from looking at a note written by him, she didn't know what she was going to do when she next came face to face with Bellamy.
Fun Fact: Catullus 85 is one of the best known poems written by Catullus, it has been translated many times and in many different ways with different implications. After I had Clarke use a Catullus poem in Bellamy's gift, I knew I needed to have Bellamy give a gift with one to Clarke. Browsing through my book of Catullus' poems, I remembered this one and thought it was perfect for their relationship.
Only a few more chapters left; right now I'm thinking two to three and a short epilogue.
Anyway, I wanted to throw this out there—partially because I'm not always great at coming up with ideas (although I do have a few floating around in my head) and partially because I'm curious what other people want to read—I am opening up my inbox for any prompts that people would like me to attempt to write. I'm not guaranteeing anything because I do have to keep up with my day to day life and some things I just don't know that I can pull off, but feel free to PM me with any ideas and I will try my best. Putting them in a review/comment will get them to me as well. Though I will be finishing this story before starting anything else.