…
I Forget (Where We Were) / Part II
The following morning they're at breakfast when Bellamy mentions her patient.
"Any updates?" He questions, layering his pancakes with a thin coat of syrup. Clarke pauses for a moment. She forgot the fact that she hadn't told him.
"Uh," She doesn't know what to say. Everyone was in such a good mood that morning—Jasper was flipping pancakes and humming to the tune of some catchy song, Octavia's grin was shinning, and the rest were in a playful debate over skiing verses snowboarding —she didn't want to be the one to ruin it. But then again, she didn't want to lie either.
"You know, the teenager—?"
"Y-yeah, I know. Uh, she didn't make it." Clarke mumbles stuffing her mouth with food.
This time Bellamy paused, looking up at her in utter realization. Everyone follows and Clarke just attempts not to look so bothered by it. "Wait, when did you find out?" He questions. She tore her eyes from his frown, not wanting to see it. "Before we left. Finn texted me." Clarke muttered using the pancakes on her plate as an excuse.
"Clarke—"
"It's fine. I'm fine, guys—can we just maybe talk about something else?" She questions posing a small smile. She wanted to show them all she was fine. And that the teenager's death didn't have an effect on her at all although it was far from the truth.
"Yeah, sure."
…
After breakfast they ski. Racing each other all over the mountain, all expect for Octavia who stays behind claiming she didn't feel well enough to participate and took a place at the resorts coffee house at the bottom of the mountain.
She's aimlessly flipping through a wedding magazine when Clarke plops in the seat across from her.
"Did you know there is literally an unlimited amount of venues?—I can have my wedding anywhere—anywhere, Clarke! On a mountain, on a cliff—underwater! Do you know what happens when you give a girl like me that kind of freedom?" She questions hypothetically as the blond stares back at her in amusement.
"Bad things. Bad things, Clarke." Her eyes were widen open, and the blond could tell by her jumpy limbs she was growing restless.
"Well hi to you too, Octavia." She smiles taking her jacket off. "And please don't have your wedding underwater, sand and seaweed everywhere: not fun. Have enough coffee?" The blond chuckles.
"Coffee, no. Trying to stop on the coffee, for now." She states as a matter of factly.
"Okay, let me know how that works?" Clarke questions oddly. "Anyway, I take it the wedding planning is a little rough?"
"That's the understatement of the century." Octavia mumbled with a small smile as the girls then proceeded to laugh. "How's the snow?"
"Snow's good. It feels nice to be out there with everyone." Clarke shrugs. It had been a pretty successful day of riding the slopes, fresh wind in her face, the sound of her skis slicing through the snow. It couldn't have gone better.
"Jasper ran into a tree. Monty helped him, Maya pretended not to see it. Uh, Raven almost stabbed Wick with her poll, and I think your competitive streak is rubbing off on your boys because Lincoln and Bellamy were neck to neck the all day." Clarke goes on to explain taking a drink of her coffee.
"Sounds like a normal day to me!" Octavia adds cheekily.
"That's oddly true."
"So, can I ask you something?" The Blake sibling questioned rather attentively.
"What's up?"
"What's going on between you and my brother?" Octavia asked, her voice dipped in a sweet but dangerous tone as she leaned forward in interest.
Clarke's heart nearly stopped at the mention of them but she smiled it off. "What? N-Nothing." She quickly defended taking another sip of her coffee in hopes of avoiding any further questions. One of Octavia's eyebrow raises in question as she plays with a smile on her face.
"Why would you say anything like that?"
"Well," The brunette shrugs. "I mean you've been really close recently, and whole sharing a room doesn't really seem to faze you two—a girl can ask!"
"Um, nothing. We're just friends, O. Plus I've known Bellamy as long as I've known you. We're completely comfortable with each other, nothing more. Plus, it was either that or sleep on a couch for the rest of my vacation so..." Clarke stated once more wanting nothing but to reveal the truth that in fact, something was going on. And it had been for so many months now that she was ashamed because now she was starting to fall for him and she couldn't talk to anyone about it and she didn't know what to do.
But the blond just stared back with a eager smile, sweat piling up on the top of her forehead more from this question than all the exercise she did today from skiing.
"Alright. If you say so." Octavia shrugged once again. "I'm just curious."
"Well there's nothing to be curious about!"
"You've said that three times now—"
"Octavia!" Clarke chuckles.
"Okay, okay. I'll drop it." She surrenders. "Sorry, sorry! Anyway… " She puffs out in an exhausted exhale. "want to help me with the impossible task of picking out bridesmaid dresses?" Her eyes lit up once again as she slide the magazine towards the blond.
"Can't think of anything else better." Clarke mumbled in a sarcastic but playful manner as she took the magazine. And as the blond flipped through it, Octavia watched her with a small minute smirk and a little head nod before opening her laptop.
…
They're finishing up lunch in the conjoining diner when Clarke excuses herself to the bathroom from the table after being eyed fucked by Bellamy the entire time. His leg aimlessly rubbing against hers the whole meal.
Two minutes later he does the same.
They meet with a hot kiss.
Her hands are in his dark hair as he pushes her behind a wall, then to the top of the bathroom counter. Eyes hungry, demeanor set. Her legs wraps around his waist, as he pulls her in. Her hands fumbling with the velcro of his pants as his fumble underneath her shirt.
He feels like a teenager.
Clarke wants to be ashamed at how many times they've used the bathroom, but she can't find it in her for the act is simply too satisfactory to align it with something of that definition.
Its a violent, needy, but quick fuck.
And after they finished, when their recovering through panted breaths and racing hearts, the guilt overcomes her and she pushes him away.
"Your. Sister's. Getting. Suspicious." Clarke states, trying to catch her breath.
"What makes you say that?" One of Bellamy's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the mention of Octavia.
"She asked me if anything was going on between us." The blond reveals grimly. "God, I hate this!" She groans fixing herself up in the mirror.
"What'd you say?"
"Nothing, of course!" The blond snaps, sounding almost defensive.
Bellamy nodded. "Okay—"
"I just, I feel so god damn guilty about this." Clarke turns meeting his gaze. She notices the spark leave his eyes in that moment, feeling a little disappointed by her sudden declarement. There were many things Bellamy wanted Clarke to feel after doing what they just did.
Guilt was definitely not one of them.
"Right." He mumbles straightening up his jacket with a cross expression to his face. He hated this too, the after part.
"But we're just having fun, right?" She questions. The way she looks up at him makes him debate on how to answer.
"Yeah." He replies smoothly and without meaning.
And there's something that changes on her face the moment he answers, but he doesn't know what. Somehow in that very second, something's changed.
He doesn't notice the way her heart slows down and starts to chip with every syllable he speaks.
And instead of voicing her disagreement, Clarke stays quiet and forces a small smile. "Right. Okay. Uh, are you going out first?" She mumbles shortly after, eyes glued to the floor not wanting to meet his.
Bellamy can't help but feel like he's done something wrong.
"Uh," He swallowing not knowing what to offer but wanting to do something. "sure. W-We'll talk later, okay?" He doesn't want to eave that conversation where they did and he wants to makes sure she knows it too.
"Fine."
Both return to the table, muted smiles and slightly shifted appearances.
…
When they get back to the cabin later that night everyone's exhausted but yet, satisfied in some manner from their productive day.
Jasper and Maya excuse themselves for the night, along with Lincoln who was half asleep in the car ride back, Octavia joining him. Which left Raven, Kyle, Clarke Bellamy and Monty with the idea to go hot tubbing and surrounded by snow and preferably alcohol.
"I don't even have a bathing suit with me!" Clarke chuckled digging around her luggage aimlessly. She and Bellamy were alone in their room changing.
"So?" He questioned.
"So?" She commented back wanting to hear the rest of his proposition. "What? Am I going in naked?" The blond bit her tongue trying hard not to laugh.
"There's an idea." Bellamy smirks eyebrows raised her way. He doesn't even see the shirt she throws his way before it collides with his head. "Oh, shut it." She mumbled putting an end to his shenanigans.
"I mean, who brings a swim suit on a ski trip?" She continues standing by the bed, various pieces of clothes spiraled around in her hands. "What are you wearing?"
"Boxers."
"Funny, I thought you were more of a boxer-briefs guy."
"I am, but doesn't hurt to be prepared. Actually, I'm more surprised you aren't, Princess." He throws the remark her way with a teasing smile, pulling the boxers from his drawer in the dresser.
"Very funny." She mocks, slipping her shirt off. In a usual situation she'd be the one over-prepared.
"Now are you just going to stand there while I change or…" He trails off once his eyes her gaze for she's half naked and smirking his way.
"Embarrassed, Blake?" She questions throwing her shirt on the bed as she approaches him with a cocked head and teasing grin. "Not the slightest."
She watches as his eyes fall from her demeanor and travel down her bare neck to her exposed chest before she reached for the velcro on her ski pants and slides them off.
"I think I'll go like this."
Bellamy stands there, swallowing, trying hard to keep his hands to himself as the blond stepped out of the pants and throws them next to her shirt. Her face so close to the side of his he could feel her breath run down his neck.
"What do you think, Detective Blake?" She exhales soothly.
"uh," He stops for a moment, attempting to bite the laugh present. "I think we should close the curtains." He mumbles throwing her completely off guard. Clarke turns around in confusion instantly meeting Monty's shocked gaze from the other side of the floor-to-ceiling window that met the porch. Two beers in his hands crash on the ground before him and he quickly goes to clean the mess up, scrambling in its wake.
"Fuck!" Clarke exclaimed throwing a small wave his way before quickly closing the curtains.
"Do you think he knows?!" She shouts in near panic, her eyes wider than Bellamy's ever seen them before. She couldn't understand how careless they've gotten now that three people knew.
And Bellamy can't help but laugh, she throws a scowl his way.
"Uh, you were undressing yourself in front of me, Princess. He knows."
"Fuck."
"That's right—"
"Will you quit the stupid remarks and just fucking change already and go grab him before he says something?!" Clarke nearly screamed completely flustered. And for the second time that night Bellamy Blake had a piece of clothing thrown at his head.
…
"Monty!" Clarke called out with a tense smile, towel wrapped around her as she grabbed his arm and dragged him into the hallway where Bellamy met them.
"Hi. Hey!" Clarke stated overly-eager trying hard to hide the nervous ticks that were slowly taking over her. They needed to be more careful about this.
Monty swallowed. "H-hey, guys." This was not a confident greeting. "Whatcha doin'?"
"Okay. Uh, okay. Bandaid," Clarke immediately offers, throwing both the men before her. "w-we're going to rip—do this—ripping off a bandaid!" Clarke struggled hilariously with her wording. "This is going to be like ripping off a bandaid, okay?" She clarified making Monty even more uncomfortable. Once again Bellamy couldn't help but let out a small smile of amusement at her inability to socialize under stress.
"Okay! We know what you saw, and yes, what you saw was indeed real. But!' She chuckled nervously. "Because there is, uh, a but! b-but—uh, B-Bellamy a-and I—we… we're—"
"I think what she's trying to say is that we don't want anyone to know." Bellamy steps in, offering a bit of relief to the blond with a small rub to her shoulder. She tried to ease herself back to normal as Bellamy continued.
"More importantly, we don't want Octavia to know." He insists.
"Think you can do that for us, Monty?"
"Uh, y-yeah." He lets out quickly. "I mean, it's none of my business. I'm just gonna stay out of it—all of it." He nods.
"Yeah. Okay, cool—very cool." Clarke exhaled sharply. "You're cool—It's—t-this is a very cool thing you're doing for us Mont." Clarke acknowledged still struggling while trying to get over the initial shock of the entire situation.
"Okay, then!" Bellamy nearly shouted cutting this conversation off. "I believe there is a nicely heated hot tub waiting for us outside!"
"Right." Clarke nodded vigorously as Monty just walked away attempting to understand what had just happened.
"Alright, hey, so that wasn't too bad!" Clarke stated through a sharp exhale with a smile.
"Uh, I believe the words "bandaid" and "cool" were used too many times to count," He bites his lips trying hard not to laugh. "I don't know what you're definition of "too bad" is, Princess, but it needs to be adjusted."
Clarke glared his way. And Bellamy was feeling grateful she didn't have a piece of clothing in her hand to throw at him once again.
…
Monty's mouth was open as his gaze danced between the Blond and the Blake the entire hot-tub time as he tried to process how this could be.
Surely what he'd seen wasn't real? Or at least he thought so until Clarke and Bellamy comforted him about it and he was left with nothing but the shocking truth.
Clarke and Bellamy were… something.
Just fucking? Dating? In love? He had no idea, but upon spending the rest of the evening with them he couldn't believe he hadn't figured it out earlier. It was so clear now, and so much more obvious.
"You okay there, Monty?" Raven amused nudging her elbow playful against his ribcage snapping him out of his trance.
"Y-Yeah. Peachy." He smiled coming back to his senses.
"Here. Relax." She insisted handing him a beer.
"Believe me, I'm trying to."
…
"Monty knows, doesn't he?" Raven questions grabbing another round of beers from inside the fridge, sounding more like a statement than anything else.
Clarke was about to protest but the moment she locked eyes with the Latina she knew the jig was up. "Unfortunately." She sighs not even attmpeitng to deny it at this point. It was pathetic really, the ability of a surgeon in training and a detective to keep on thing a secret.
"Good job."
"Please tell me we have something other than beer." Clarke mumbles as she opens various cabinets in search of hard liquor.
Jackpot. Clarke's heart flutters upon stumbling a beautiful bottle of tequila hidden deep in the back the cabinet.
"Oh, and Clarke?"
The blond met Ravens gaze with a curious intake.
"Today, at lunch?"
"Hm?"
"Totally not obvious." The Latina chuckled making Clarke groan once more.
"You're just lucky Octavia wasn't gifted with Bellamy's 'perceptive' abilities..." The Latina teased Clarke's way. But the flat expression on the Blonds face was satisfactory enough for her.
…
It was well into the night when their tipsy legs carried them back to their room. Bellamy and Clarke laid on the bed in the warm glow of the fire he almost burnt his fingers trying to light. "So... why didn't you tell me about your patient?" He asked wanting to continue the conversation they had from that morning.
Clarke remained silent, she suddenly craved another shot of tequila. The unexpected topic washing over her with dread. But she knew she at lasted owed it to him to say something more for she had practically wasted a lunch drowning him with all the information of the case. And she had to admit it was nice he was even asking in the first place.
"Well, what was I going to say?" She shrugged shifting her weight to face him. "Look, I just didn't want to ruin the start of vacation."
"I don't know," He shrugged in a large exhale. "You didn't have to keep it to yourself." He let out, wrapping his fingers around strands of her blond locks.
Clarke felt hollow. Her eyes lolling without spark at the mention of that patient.
"I mean, you're clearly upset over this. Just talk to me." Bellamy insisted nearly forcing her to gaze at him. He noticed the distant look in her eyes basically confirming it all. "Why, hu? Why should I talk to you about this?" She stands, pacing about the room, her voice raising ever so slightly in the process. "Because you're the guy I fuck? Because you're the guy that so graciously rescues me every tim—"
"Because I'm your friend." He cut her off not wanting to hear all this nonsense that was spilling from her mouth.
She stops.
"Right." She mumbles sharply, the alcohol instilling a certain confidence with in her at the moment. "You're my friend." She takes a deep breath turning away from him. And that's all you'll ever be.
"Clarke." His voice is a lot closer than it was before and suddenly she feels his hands run the slope of her shoulders and down her back, a soothing notion.
"What's wrong?" His whispers softly, not wanting to fight.
The blond shuts her eyes the image of falling snow disappearing into darkness as she takes a moment to digest where this conversation was going—where she wanted it to go.
"It's not fair." She reveals after a second, and she means that in two ways. Bellamy stays silent behind her waiting for her to continue as she opens her eyes and meets the snow. "She's was just a kid." She goes on. "She's never loved, she's never…"
"You don't know that."
Clarke turns to face him, eyes running over all the possible constellations in his freckles. "Not like this—she's seventeen, she hasn't live she..." Her words pierce him with sharp knives. He knows love had never been apart of their equation but doesn't mind the mention of it, not with her, and before he as a chance to reply she turns back around.
"I just… I—I just don't understand how I can feel so guilty and grateful at the same time."
"Sometimes emotions are just misleading like that. You of all people should know." He shrugs, his voice echoing past her shoulder and down her chest, leaving a wave of goosebumps in their wake. You have no idea. She wants to say.
His arms linger around her sides, and feeling his desperation she turns, falling into him.
Something is different in the way they move that night. She can feel it the moment he latches on to her hand, dragging her back towards the bed.
It's slow and tentative. They don't need maps, not anymore. Already knowing the almost paved way around their bodies. He sits down on the edge, Clarke standing in-between in his legs. His hands cupping the outlines of her face. Blond blocks his view as she tips her head down, meeting his lips.
They're no longer eager, leaving ripped clothes in their wake. They're patient, slow, passionate, almost. In fact, he takes his time with her top, steadily easing the straps down the curve of her shoulders as she fell slowly on to him. They're gentle—almost docile with each other.
Its wonderfully strange: the way their bodies mold so effortlessly together.
"God, I love this." He mumbles along the warmth of her neck.
I love you. She thinks.
…
Songs that inspired this chapter: Sea of Love by Cat Power, and Beach Baby by Bon Iver.