CHAPTER NOTES

Missed me?
I appreciate all the comments, i think I was high on Hook when i wrote this chapter, can't be helped with the current development in OUAT. I'm sorry if I displeased anyone for this, but Bellamy is not all manly, grumpy all the time, I needed to lighten him up a bit.

As for the White Collar reference, I didn't realise until I read your comment, I remember the scene quite well now that you mention it, and it saddens me that the show is about to air it's last half season T_T

But I wrote the previous scene for selfish reason, and I'm glad you that you enjoyed it.

Anyhow, more reviews are always welcomed, and hopefully the updates will be more frequent from now on. I don't do the radio silence unless I absolutely need too. Christmas is closing in and there is bound to be delays, but don't worry, Santa seems to be nice this year ;)

Chapter XXI

Screw it!. She was so damn beautiful, lying there. Her golden hair laid like a halo around her innocent face. Before he could stop himself, he was already leaning closer. Closer to those soft looking lips. Did she have a clue what kind of effect that minor parting of her mouth did to him?

Suddenly he remembered who this woman lying in front of him was. He stopped. What was he thinking? She was with Finn (the other seemed like he owned her and people will jump on your head). Finn, his best friend.

Instead of going for that kiss, he regretfully used that foul mouth of him to piss her off. She pushed him away instantly, just like he had predicted.

Lying there, hearing the water run in the shower, he tried to calm himself.
He did not know when it had begun, the lingering looks, the need to see her every day, the need to banter simply so he could hear her voice. This was madness, he had never felt this way before. In every action, he heard her voice of reason in his head. No matter how much he told himself, she was not his, his heart told him differently.
He hated himself. He had encouraged Finn all along. And here he was, pining after the same girl. HE felt disgusting with himself.

The heat in the room was suddenly too much. Bellamy started to unbutton his collar, almost tearing his shirt apart in an attempt to remove it. Walking to the big balcony windows, he pushed away the heavy draped curtains and opened the doors. Cold air seemed to calm his mind a bit, but knowing that a flimsy door was the only thing between him and her made him slam his first against the balcony door. Not enough to smash the glass, but enough to feel pain. He walked out to the balcony, and he rested his head on the railings.

Clarke was used to taking quick showers, but with the situation in the other room, she took her time. She stood there in her towel trying to figure the next step. She only had that bloody red dress. And by the looks of it, Bellamy had only one set of clothes with him. The ones that were on him.
Chewing her lower lip, she made a decision and stepped out of the bathroom.

Bellamy was standing shirtless out on the balcony. She walked towards him, trying her best to ignore his naked torso. It did not prevent her from staring at his back though. His broad shoulders and lean muscles showed hours of hard work. A new respect for him grew inside Clarke but she quickly buried it. Clearing her throat she tried to get Bellamy's attention.

Either he had not heard her or he simply ignored her. She walked beside him, putting her hand over his arm, and he finally looked at her.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"The shower is all yours if you want to." Clarke tried.

"Thanks." He left her there and walked toward the direction of the bathroom.

With a loud sigh, Clarke left the balcony and walked towards the vanity. One issue solved, time for another. Grabbing a brush, she started to attack her hair.

Coming out of the shower, Bellamy found Clarke in front of the vanity, struggling with her hair. Women, he thought and made a mental eye roll.

"You need a hand?" He asked from behind.

"And how many women have you used that line on?" Clarke said as she gave up her brush to Bellamy.

Taking it, he gently started to brush her hair.

"Or actually, I don't want to know that." Clarke added.

"Wouldn't you like to know…" Bellamy said with such a smugness, that managed to force an eye roll from Clarke.

She had actually got to untangle most of the knots already, but he continued to brush it as he liked the feeling of her silky hair against his fingers.

"You know, most men would find your silence rather discouraging."

She pulled away from him and rose from her seat. Facing him, she gave him that look again. The look that told him to behave.

"What? I always like a challenge."

That earned him a friendly punch on the shoulder. But then she saw him. Really saw him, in his naked glory. Oh well, he still had a towel wrapped around his torso. Still PG. But seeing her flustered face, it was worth it.

"Why aren't you dressed, Blake?"

"I could ask the same about you, princess."

He had not missed the fact that she was only wrapped in a towel herself. She was biting her lower lip, which he had recognized as a sign of her nervousness. He was about to add another nasty remark when he noticed a water bead dripping from her wet hair, down her cleavage. And what a nice cleavage. She must have noticed, as she cleared her throat loudly, forcing his attention back to her face.

"Or did you have a change of mind? Care to continue where we left off?"

Ignoring his comment Clarke walked back towards the bed but suddenly stopped.

Standing next to her, Bellamy could practically hear the wheels turning in her head. Ignoring her, he simple went to one side of the bed and made himself comfortable.

"What are you doing?" Clarke's slightly panicked voice almost shouted.

"Clarke relax, I'm sleepy, I'm not going to attack you."

He patted the other side of the bed. When she did not move, he simply raised his eyebrow in a challenge.

"What's wrong, the cat got your tongue, princess?"

"I'm trusting you. Don't make me regret it." And she crawled down under the covers.

"Rise and shine, sleepy head."

Someone's husky voice sounded. Opening her eyes, Clarke realized that the voice belonged to Bellamy Blake. And that was not the only problem. She also saw that she was on top of his chest. His naked chest. When she noticed this, she spurted backwards. A bit too fast. She hit her head against the bed frame.

"Ouch." He joked.

She could feel her towel barely hanging in there, and grabbed it before she managed to flash anything to the man next to her. Blowing some wayward strands of hair away from her face she tilted her head back slowly against the bed frame.

"You know you dreamed about me last night." Bellamy said in a low voice. "Explains the drool."

She looked over at him. And yes, he was wearing that smug expression she learnt to hate, love, whatever. Grabbing a pillow, she hit him on the face before leaving for the bathroom.

"So no cuddling then? I should mention this, they better not charge me extra!" he shouted after her.

Clarke locked the door after her and ran to the sink. Turning the faucet on, she stared at her own reflection. He better not had caught that. Her face was bright red. Stupid, stupid. Here she was, on an important mission, blushing like some inexperienced school girl. Splashing some cold water over her face she started to calm down.

There were lot things that were going to happen from here on. She needed to be prepared. Getting dressed she walked back out into the bedroom.

Bellamy was still lying on the bed.

"Missed me?" he asked.

"Get dressed. The guards will be here any second." Clarke was glad her voice was once again devoid of any emotion.

Bellamy seemed to have noticed the same, as he lost the grin and turned it into a frown.

"I would, except you see there this tiny problem." He said and tilted his head against the corner of the room. Following his gaze she saw it, his discarded towel. Which could only mean one thing. He was completely naked under the covers.

"Well, are you going to leave, or stay for the show?" He asked.

Leaving him on the bed, she left to sit in the reception area, closing the bedroom doors behind her. That insufferable man! He was driving her nuts.

"Thank you so much for all your patronage, Mr. Blake." Lincoln's mocking voice reverbed in Bellamy's phone.

"Cut the case, mate. What's the situation like?" Bellamy made no effort in hiding his irritation with the man.

"Oh, she's perky alright, your wifey. Since she past the real test, they are going to deport her to the HQ. And hopefully once there, you and your boys can come and kick some ass. But Wilson is mine though. That rat, owes me good old fashioned revenge. "

"First of all, Griffin's no one's wife. Secondly, there won't be any unnecessary killings, Lincoln. Wilson needs to be captured alive, or else this whole mission will be for naught. And speaking of debts, I'm pretty sure that even if your best buddy Donald Trump would intervene, nothing would be able to subsidize for all the pain and loss caused by you."

"Easy there, mate. I was just joking. You know bromance? Besides, that son of a bitch betrayed me once too many already, so I tracked down his birthplace and slaughtered his entire family. I guess that makes us even." Lincoln said with a snicker.

"You're sick."

And with that Bellamy hung up. It was time to ensemble the team. There was no room for mishaps this time.

"Ah, my lovely girls. You've done well. Very well in fact. And to show you that this is not just the one sided beneficial kind of contract, here's my gratitude."

Clarke was standing in some kind of model agency type of office. Only this wasn't a model agency. And despite his chippering appearance, Wilson was a dangerous man. They were all given a new wardrobe. No doubt the sick bastard wanted to play dress up with them, like they were his dolls.

Coming closer, he looked at Clarke, and just when he was about to pass her, he stopped and gave her another look.

"You know, I think natural is better for you."

And he ripped off her wig, her blonde curls falling down like a cascade of golden mane.

"Well, well. Look at that. Any particular reason why you hid your real self, honey?"

Clarke did not reply, simply holding his gaze with her own steel eyes.

"You, over there!" Wilson pointed at one of his bodyguards.

"Why would a perfectly beautiful girl wanna disguise herself?"

The guard simply raised his shoulder and shook his head.

"There's only one reason," He threw her wig away. "And that's that she's cop!" He pulled out a gun from his belt and aimed at her.

All the other girls in the room ducked and started to scream. The guards posted in the room all took an aim at her.

Might as well, Clarke thought. She heaved a large sigh and raised her hands, as if she was surrendering.

"Such a pity. You were such an addition to the collection." He said as he tilted his head slightly and smiled.

"Likewise." Clarke said before she grabbed his firing arm.

Pushing his arm away from her, so the gun pointed at another guard, she elbowed him on his chin, making him loose focus. She landed another elbow jab at his stomach, making him doubling in pain. Using the momentum, she grabbed the gun from his lose grip and swapped their places. Standing behind him, she held his neck in captive and aimed the gun at his temple.

"Anybody makes a move and your boss here is a goner." She hissed.

"Ugh. Don't listen to her. Take her down. Take her down now!" Wilson shouted between the broken nose and all that blood.

"Put your guns on the floor and kick them away. Now!" Clarke shouted.

The girls were still screaming. Good god, she had forgotten about them.

"Girls, collect yourself and stand against that wall over there".

Wilson was trying to free himself, so Clarke hit him with the bottom of the gun on his already broken nose.

She only needed to keep them occupied for a bit longer. She knew the moment she had stopped moving, Monty would narrow down her location. No matter what her opinion was on Bellamy Blake, he knew his stuff.

"Turn around." His low voice breathed into her ear.

"What? What the hell, Bellamy?"

Clarke had been waiting for him to get ready in the reception area. Sitting on the sofa, trying to calm herself, he had snuck up upon her from behind.

"It suits you."

And he looked down her cleavage again. But following his gaze, she realized that it had not been her cleavage he had been talking about. Looking down, she saw a golden heart hanging from her neck. Though, she doubted the length had been a coincidence. It was just the right length to emphasize the beginning of her cleavage. Picking it up and looking at Bellamy she raised an eyebrow.

Relax princess, it's nothing personal. I had Monty and Raven insert a tracking device in it. This way I won't be taking my eyes from you for a minute." He said with a smirk.

"I'd be offended if you did, Blake." Clarke mock challenged him.

They both stood there smiling like two teenage kids, not knowing what to do.

"Did you guys plan to have a party without inviting little moi?" Lincoln walked into the room, like everything was in order. Clarke could not help but roll her eyes this time.

"Woah! Do you need a little help, mate?"

"Lincoln! So good to see you buddy. Would you mind killing this bitch for me?" Wilson was coaxing between the blood that was currently running from his once-upon-a-nose.

"Ah, ah, ah. Take it easy. I think you've might have forgone one tiny, little detail, my friend." Lincoln said as he crossed his armes and leaned against one of the sofas.

"As a gentleman, I can't and will not strike women. Ever." He said with one eyes half closed and the other directed at Wilson.

"Your son of a bitch. We had a deal!" Wilson started to struggle. Clarke shot Lincoln a dead look. He only raised his shoulders in reply.

"Debatable."

Lincoln rose again, and was pacing the room, ignoring that Clarke was holding Wilson at gun point and the guards ready to sprout into action at any given moment.

"It seems to me that we are lacking a few brain cells in the memory department over here. Well, that is a crying shame. The details are what make it a good story." Lincoln had started one of his stupid monologues again.

One of the guards chanced it. He picked up a gun but before he could take an aim on either Clarke or Lincoln, he was dead. Lincoln shot him at right between his brows. The girls shouted and started sobbing.

"Now, how come I'm the bad guy here?" Lincoln asked with a puppy face.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Wilson cut him in his speech.

Turning around, with a look of murder in his eyes, he said.

"Evelynn."

There was a moment of silence. Both men just stared at each other. Then Wilson finally spoke.

"The bitch who rattled on us? But you told me the bitch was going down?"

"She was mine! I was going to make her suffer, ON MY TERMS!" Lincoln bellowed.

Wait. What was this? Clarke thought. Here she was trying to stall enough time so Bellamy and the rest would come and siege the motherfucker's business. And Mr. Psychopath here was being, nostalgic? Enough of this crap, she was tired of wearing this dress. Just when she was about to open her mouth to break these idiots apart from their lovers quarrel, Collins entered the office along with Raven and other men in SWAT suits.