a/n Thank you so much for the reviews on that last chapter, and for sticking with the story this far. This is, in fact, the final chapter of the story proper, although there's the occasional bonus scene I might add one day if inspiration strikes. Until then, you might like to go check out some of my other stories, or keep looking out for the various other Bellarke ideas I intend to share with you in the future.

For the last time, happy reading!

Clarke greeted Bellamy with a hug on Monday morning. It seemed like the right thing to do, a comforting gesture to show him that she was there for him while he was worried about his mum. And, really, she thought that if they were on phone calls at three AM terms, they were presumably also on cheery platonic hugging terms.

At least, she meant it as a cheery platonic hug. A good eight seconds later she was still in his arms, and she started to wonder whether, perhaps, something might have gone awry with that plan. Whatever, she decided, relaxing more deeply into his embrace. Plans were overrated anyway.

She started to hear whispers from the other occupants of the common room eventually and decided that was probably her cue to pull away. The last thing he needed at a time like this, she realised, was to be pestered by a load of gossip about platonic hugs with his ex-girlfriend.

"Thanks." He muttered, as he turned to make a start on getting his books for the morning. "I needed that."

"I thought you might. How are things?" She asked, knowing he would know what she meant, keeping her voice low to avoid difficult questions from bored onlookers.

"About as good as could be expected." She gathered from the tone of his voice that this meant, frankly, not good.

She took a deep breath and set about saying the words she'd been considering almost since she picked up that phone. "Listen, Bellamy, I've been thinking. And I'm not saying this to be patronising, and I know that you could handle this alone. But I don't want you to think you have to handle this alone. You probably wouldn't be surprised to know that my mother's got some useful friends. My godmother Callie is a lawyer, and quite a good one at that. Would you – would you consider taking her number? You might be able to get some money from the man who hurt your mum."

"I'd rather punch him in the face." Bellamy said with sufficient force that Clarke thought, actually, he might just do that. To her relief, he channelled his wrath into slamming his locker shut, instead, for now.

"I know." She reached out a tentative hand to grasp his shoulder. "But this way you still have a nice clean record when you go off to university and get that sports scholarship you've been dreaming of, and your mum and sister are provided for, and your mum doesn't have to go back to doing that extra job."

"Your problem solving skills come in handy sometimes, don't they?" He asked her with the thinnest hint of a smile. "That's really kind of you, Clarke. If you think she can help, I'll take her number."

She fished the card out of her pocket and handed it over. "Here. For a moment there I thought you might punch me in the face."

"Maybe I might have done, a year ago. Or even six months ago. But then I went and got to know this infuriating girl called Clarke Griffin who's made me rethink a few things." She blinked at that, struggling to process what sounded like a rather enormous compliment, albeit a somewhat strange one.

"Thank you." She said, in the end, not sure whether or not it was the right thing to say, but not seeing any better options. "Chemistry?"

He nodded and gestured to the door. "After you, Princess."

She did start a little at that, at hearing the old nickname fall so affectionately from his lips, but she didn't panic. She didn't even, as it happened, overthink it. No, she simply lead the way to their first lesson beaming from ear-to-ear.

…...

It hadn't been a good week, of course. Bellamy was still visibly upset about his mum – or at least, visibly upset to anyone who knew him well enough to see it. Anyone who knew him well enough to read the tensing of his fists when he wasn't distracted by buoyant conversation, to note the higher-than-usual pitch of his voice as he overreacted at least a little to even the mildest of stressful situations.

OK, to be honest, it seemed that she was the only one who noticed. Everyone else was apparently too busy asking pointed questions about why the two of them were suddenly joined at the hip again.

"Are you sure you're not back together?" Murphy asked with his usual subtlety as they sat around the lunch table on Wednesday.

In his defence, Clarke supposed it was probably an easy mistake to make. She had just given Bellamy half of her slice of chocolate cake. But that was only because she knew he really liked chocolate cake, and she happened to be a believer that there was such a thing as too much chocolate.

"Yes." Clarke replied honestly, trying not to sound too sad about it.

"Platonically close exes share dessert all the time." Bellamy claimed, evidently suppressing laughter even as she suppressed the urge to elbow him affectionately in the ribs. He wasn't really helping their case, here, she felt. He could be doing more to look cold and detached and things.

Then again, she was quite pleased he wasn't doing that.

"So maybe we can agree that, at a stretch, platonically close exes could share dessert some of the time." Raven joined in with spirit. "I contend, however, that platonically close exes do not feed each other the shared dessert."

"We didn't feed each other." Bellamy pointed out carefully. "Clarke fed me, but only two bites. I ate the rest of it for myself."

"She'd have fed you the whole thing if Emori hadn't ruined it by sniggering." Raven argued.

"I think we're missing the point, here." Emori suggested. "I'm pretty sure platonically close exes is an oxymoron. You surely can't feel completely platonic about someone you've ever seen in that way."

Clarke tried to ignore the frankly lovestruck look that Murphy sent at Emori in the wake of that comment. At least someone's relationship had been having a good few months, it seemed.

She found it harder to ignore the fact that Bellamy appeared unable to respond to Emori's accusation.

"Could we talk about something else now?" She suggested, rather keen to give her cheeks an opportunity to cool.

"Only if you promise we can come back to this later." Murphy insisted.

"It seems like you will, whether we want you to or not." Bellamy grumbled.

"Emori tells me you guys have plans for the weekend." Clarke recalled. "Surely you can't pass up an opportunity to brag about that?"

It was a good choice, she thought, in the minutes that followed. It occupied the very friend who was most persistent in pestering them, and Emori was only too keen, too, to wax lyrical about how romantic she expected their upcoming date to be. It wasn't a word she was accustomed to hearing associated with John Murphy, but on this occasion, she was disinclined to argue.

But then, all of a sudden, she realised that Bellamy hadn't spoken in a good three minutes. And, sure enough, a glimpse at his face revealed that he was fretting about his mum again, jaw set firm, eyes cold.

Without giving herself the chance to overthink it, she reached towards him under the table. She knew what she'd find there, knew his hand would be balled into a fist at his side. Smiling brightly at the conversation before her all the while, she made a gentle start on uncurling his fingers, on rubbing her thumb against his palm. On showing him that she'd always be there for him, close by his side, however platonic or otherwise.

He relaxed after a few seconds, intertwined his fingers with hers. Squeezed once, gently, and sent a quick half-smile in her direction which was, it seemed, destined not to pass unnoticed.

"Would you look at that." Murphy could barely keep the grin off his face, and Clarke did not think it was only because of the opportunity to make fun. She had a distinct suspicion, too, that he was quite excited to see his friends less-than-subtly on good terms again.

Raven took up the theme then, eyes narrowed at the space where both of their arms disappeared beneath the table.

"The very image of platonic closeness."

…...

"You're coming to the library." Clarke informed Bellamy, marching up to him at his locker, as school ended on Thursday.

"Of course I'm coming to the library." He agreed, looking a little confused at her strident tone.

"Good. I was worried you might bail on me to go sit at home worrying over your mum."

"Have you been speaking to her behind my back? She practically ordered me to go hang out at the library this afternoon with you rather than annoying her, too."

She masked her hurt at that, at the idea that he was coming with her to appease his mother rather than by choice, and pressed on. "Great minds think alike."

"I'll take that as a compliment, as I was going to come anyway."

"You were?" She tried not to sound too pathetically overexcited at the news.

"Of course I was. It's Thursday." That settled, he hefted his bag onto his shoulders. "Can I carry anything for you?"

"No, that's OK. I wouldn't want Murphy to misunderstand."

"He'll misunderstand anyway, and at least this way you get your books carried." He might just have a point, she decided.

"If you insist." She passed him her library books with a smile.

Sure enough, Murphy did misunderstand. He made no secret of that fact, wiggling his eyebrows at them as they passed, but Clarke decided this was not a day for worrying about such trivialities. No, this was a day for enjoying Bellamy's company, and for being a good friend and distracting him from his concerns.

With that decided, she asked after his reading material as they walked through the school gates. She'd been remiss in doing so, this week, she realised. With everything that had happened, books had never quite made it to the top of their list of conversational priorities. It was good, then, and familiar, and so very them, to learn that he had enjoyed his introduction to Picasso, but had not found a new all-consuming passion for his artworks, and to share in return that, she had to concede, the French Revolution did seem like an interesting kind of topic even without the melodramatic romantic plot of an historical novel.

"I've always found it kind of strange that you're into all of these historical romance novels." He told her as they rounded a corner and the library came into sight. "You never struck me as the romantic type, with your common sense and chess and wanting to be a doctor. And I never noticed you – you know – being that into romantic relationships yourself."

"I did have one, once." She reminded him sadly. "You might have noticed that one."

"Yeah." She looked up, realised her mistake. He was staring at her, hard, and she couldn't quite work out why.

"And that one was pretty damn romantic, between the ice cream dates and the apology-chocolate-cake-baking. And the cheesy hoodie loan. And the making out in the park on Christmas Day."

He was staring at her, still, as they came to a stop outside the library doors.

She took a deep breath, and braced herself for the biggest risk of her rather limited romantic life. She didn't know what had possessed her, in this moment. She just knew that, if she didn't finish that list now, she would never forgive herself.

"And carrying my books everywhere. I always found that pretty sweet and – and romantic."

She peeped a look up at him, wondered what he'd made of that. Found him staring, still, gaze filled with something she couldn't quite identify. Perhaps, it occurred to her, she'd made a mistake. Perhaps she'd read him wrong, and he honestly did only want a close platonic friendship with her.

She wouldn't panic, she told herself. She wouldn't panic, and she wouldn't cry.

"Clarke?" His voice sounded a bit funny, she thought, not quite his usual smooth confident self. "What would happen if I kissed you now?"

"I'd add it to my list of romantic things you've done." She told him carefully, not quite sure where this conversation was going. Was he trying to imply that he would like to kiss her? But if so, why was he not just getting on with it? "And I'd kiss you back, of course. And then I guess I'd stand here and overthink whether you had enjoyed it and whether I should ask you out for ice cream and whether there was any chance of us getting back together again and -"

It seemed he had been trying to imply that he would like to kiss her. She inferred this from the fact that he was, in fact, now kissing her. And it was everything she had remembered, and it was more, as his warm lips moved firmly and so familiarly against her own, and that tongue she had used to find so excessive made its presence felt in the most welcome of ways. And he seemed to have dropped her books, but she decided that probably wasn't worth worrying about, just now, as she felt one of his hands tangle in her hair and the other go to her waist to pull her flush against him.

She couldn't decide what to explore first. She'd missed him, so much, and in this moment she was a bit overcome by the range of options, the amount of lost time to make up for. She cupped one hand about his neck, played with the ends of his hair, and, fully aware that her behaviour was completely out of line for the public pavement outside a public library, she slipped the other hand up his shirt.

He let out a groan and pulled back from her lips.

"The answer's yes." He whispered against her mouth, as she struggled to keep up. "Yes, I did enjoy that, and yes, I would very much like you to ask me out for ice cream, and yes, as far as I'm concerned, there's definitely a chance of us getting back together."

She felt a smile split her face at that, quite without her permission, and pressed her curving lips back up against his in a rather clumsy kiss.

"Bellamy, I hear there's a place just around the corner that has fifteen different types of sundae. Can I take you out for ice cream?"

"Yes."

At this rate, she thought, as they somehow ended up sharing another kiss, the library was going to be closed by the time they got round to returning their books. But in the grand scheme of things, that hardly seemed like a priority, just now. No, her priority was very definitely the feel of Bellamy's lips against hers, and his skin beneath her fingertips, and the happiness that she was almost in danger of drowning in, she suspected.

"Clarke?" He pulled away and she managed, with substantial self-control, not to let out an audible sigh.

"Yeah?"

"Was that a yes to getting back together?"

"Yes." She laughed into the crook of his neck. "What was your first clue?"

He didn't bother answering that, but pressed his lips softly to her forehead a couple of times instead, and she found herself becoming increasingly aware that they were, in fact, still standing outside the library. Perhaps, she wondered, they ought to do something about that.

"Do you think we should go inside at some point? We can't go for our ice cream date until we've had our library date."

"We can go wherever the hell you want, Princess, as long as I get to keep hold of your hand." She squinted at him a little, wondering who he was and what he'd done with Bellamy Blake.

"Are you feeling OK?"

"Shh. I think that was more sweet than pathetic?"

"I might add it to my list of romantic things you've done."

With that decided, they entered the library hand in hand, to a slightly-too-knowing smile from Juliet who was on the front desk. They made short work of returning their books and choosing new ones, and Clarke couldn't help but feel that they were rushing this portion of their date a little. She expressed as much to Bellamy, and he laughed rather louder than she thought was wise given their location.

"Do you blame us? We've got an ice cream date to get to."

"What are we doing after the ice cream?" She asked, not sure what the protocol was for getting back together with one's boyfriend on a school night.

"I hope we're watching Scrubs." He said, not quite meeting her eye. "I know this has all happened really quickly so just say if it's too much but – but if you wanted to come over to mine that would be fun. You could stay over, even."

Excited to find that he was thinking similar thoughts to her, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'd like some Scrubs time. I'd like that a lot. But I was thinking maybe you could come to mine? And meet my mother? And – and maybe have a change of scene?"

"It might do me good to spend the night away from my mum and sister." He caught on to her meaning quicker than she had expected. "They'll have to manage without me when I go to uni anyway."

"And I think it might do you good not to sit there fussing over your mum?"

"You might be right." He agreed with a strained smile. "This is the first time I've been out of the house apart from school all week. Can we stop by on the way to yours, though? Just to tell them where I'll be."

"Of course."

"And maybe even to do sensible things like grab some clean clothes."

"I thought I was the sensible one?"

"Not any more. You're the romantic one, today."

They'd never made out in the library before and it was, Clarke decided, time to do something about that. She was the romantic one, today, after all.

…...

The ice cream tasted pretty good, just as Clarke remembered. In fact, she noted, it tasted almost as good as kissing Bellamy. But there would be time enough, later, for kissing and for Scrubs, and right now she was quite keen to make up for missed time on the conversational front.

As if he had read her mind, Bellamy spoke through a mouthful of sundae.

"I was a bit of an idiot, wasn't I, to suggest we could be friends?"

"I don't know. I'd have done that, for you. I'd have practised being your friend, if that was what you needed from me. You're that important to me. But – yeah – I don't think I'd have been very good at it."

"You did a pretty great job, actually, this last week. Thank you. But I think you do a better job of dating me."

She laughed at that, reached in to kiss him for good measure.

"I'm so happy we fixed this, Bellamy."

"Me, too. You're – you're that important to me, too, you know that right?"

This was, she noted, getting a bit deep for a teenage Scrubs-and-screwing based kind of a relationship. But she supposed things had been heading that way for a while, now. And she had to admit that, if she was being honest, him meeting her mother was long overdue.

…...

They had managed to leave the Blakes' house with an overnight bag for Bellamy and only a mild case of hysteria on Octavia's part, so Clarke was counting that as a victory. As she unlocked the front door of her own home and yelled a generic greeting to her mother, she was feeling cautiously optimistic.

No matter how this went, it couldn't go as badly as Bellamy finding out she'd been lying to him for months.

"Clarke?" Her mother appeared in the hallway, a carefully joyful expression on her face. "Bellamy? It's so lovely to meet you at last."

There was an excruciating pause, in which Bellamy awkwardly proffered his hand for Abby to shake, and Abby stood and looked consideringly at him, and Clarke wondered what on Earth had possessed her to think this could ever be a good idea.

And then, suddenly, somehow, her mother was pulling her boyfriend into a very enthusiastic and distinctly familial hug, and he was patting her awkwardly on the back and looking somewhat bemused.

"It's lovely to meet you, too, Dr Griffin." He said when she pulled away. "Thank you for letting Clarke invite me over."

"Bless you, don't be silly. You can call me Abby, and you're always welcome." She stopped for a moment, and swallowed deeply, and Clarke braced herself for whatever might come out of her mouth next. "I'm sorry I ever led Clarke to believe you wouldn't be welcome."

"Thanks, Mum." Clarke found herself feeling rather moved. "I'm – I'm sorry I kept all this a secret from you."

"Oh, hush now." Her mother dismissed her concerns. "Do you want some supper, or did you fill up on ice cream?"

Clarke considered, for a moment, whether there was any good way to tell her mother she didn't want supper because her priority right now was to get on with screwing Bellamy.

In the end, he beat her to it. "Thanks, Abby, but we did have a lot of ice cream. And I know Clarke is keen for us to get on with our Maths homework. You know how she is, always studying so hard."

"She was right. You do seem a sweet boy. Go on, the pair of you, and enjoy your Maths homework. I can make us some supper a bit later?"

"That sounds great, Mum, thanks."

With that, Abby disappeared back into the living room, and Clarke dragged Bellamy none-too-elegantly up the stairs.

"Did you just lie to my mother?" She hissed as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Maybe." He smirked a little. "Balance of good and bad, remember? I did this for a good cause."

She laughed at that, and dragged him into her bedroom, shutting the door behind them rather hastily. She wasn't sure where to start, really, now that they were alone behind closed doors. And all of a sudden she found herself feeling rather nervous, wondering how this was all going to turn out. What if she wasn't as fun in the bedroom as he'd remembered? What if he noticed how out of practice she was at sucking him off?

What if he no longer looked at her like she was beautiful?

"Clarke?" His soft voice broke into her thoughts, and she made a valiant effort to smile. "Relax, Clarke. We can take it slow."

"I know. I just..." She trailed off into silence.

"We're both doing things we're nervous about, remember?" She cracked a smile at that, remembered the first time they'd shared a Scrubs afternoon together. "And we don't have to even – you know – we don't have to do that now, today. If you're not ready we can -"

She cut off his nervous babbling with a kiss. And she wanted to take it slow, really she did, and wanted to linger over this moment of happy reunion, and wanted, too, to make it good for him and show him he'd been right to give her a second chance.

But, on the other hand, he was here, and somehow his hands were everywhere, and she'd missed him and – well – things got a little out of hand.

"I thought we were taking it slow?" He asked with a smirk as she pulled off his shirt.

She didn't dignify that with an answer, but instead knelt at his feet, and unclasped his belt, and opened his waistband. There was, she felt, something she needed to do, to show him just how much she wanted to make this work, and how sorry she was for lying to him, and how much of a fucking idiot she'd been.

She looked up at him, gave a smile she hoped looked fun. And then she took his cock into her mouth.

He groaned appreciatively, and knitted his fingers into her hair, and she rather expected him to use that grip to urge her to take him deeper, but he did no such thing. Instead, he eased her slowly away from him, and bent to kiss her on the lips.

"You're so good at that. And I've missed your mouth so much. But – but I want to hold you, today, if that's OK?"

She froze for a moment, trying to get her head around that. Trying to work out whether, perhaps, there was a bit more going on here than she had at first realised, and maybe he was dating her for something beyond her willingness to suck his cock.

"I'd like that." She admitted, realising that, maybe, she was allowed to tell him the absolute truth, this time round.

That was quite enough overthinking, she concluded, with that realisation. It was time to have fun.

…...

They did have supper eventually, and Clarke did a valiant job of cooperating with her mother's attempts at polite conversation and not blushing too much at the recollection of the time she'd just spent with Bellamy upstairs. A valiant but not altogether successful job, she had to admit to herself, as he caught her eye and smiled a rather affectionate smile, and she found herself remembering the way he'd looked down at her with almost exactly the same smile as he'd eased himself inside of her and told her she was beautiful.

Yes, she was terrible at this. She was absolutely terrible at trying to pretend that she'd just done her Maths homework, and absolutely terrible at removing the guilty grin from her face.

Absolutely terrible at lying in general, actually.

Bellamy, of course, was in his element. He was utterly charming as he invited Abby to talk about her job, and as he complimented the meal she had cooked, and as he sang Clarke's praises a little more vehemently, she thought, than she truly deserved.

"Can we do the dishes, Abby?" He asked politely, when supper was eaten and she was beginning to wonder how soon they could excuse themselves.

"Bless you, absolutely not." Her mother insisted. "You kids must have a lot of catching up to do. Go on with you."

Well, then. She wasn't going to turn down that offer. She took him by the hand and led the way back up the stairs.

They actually did do some Maths homework, at that point. But even Maths homework was, it turned out, a whole lot more fun with a little making out between questions as a reward. And then they even watched some Scrubs and, in a marvellous feat of self-control, they made it through an entire episode before their Scrubs time deteriorated into – well – Scrubs time.

And then, as if having Bellamy stay over at her house was something entirely normal, and routine, and the kind of thing that happened all the time, they brushed their teeth and went to bed.

"This is so strange." He whispered, as he cradled her close in the darkness. "This morning I was worrying about my mum and sister and wondering whether I was ever going to get chance to fix things with you and now – now I'm in your bed and my toothbrush is in your pretentious en suite bathroom and I know your mother's recipe for spaghetti bolognese."

"I don't find the last thing on that list very surprising. My mother does like to show off her spaghetti bolognese recipe." He laughed a little at that, but she sensed he had something more to say.

"I just – do you not find it quite weird how we got here?"

"We started out with you throwing my lunch in a bin and me swearing to dedicate myself to revenge. We were never going to take a very conventional route to being lovestruck teenagers."

Too late, she realised what she'd said. Realised that, if he wanted to, he could be very freaked out indeed, right about now. They'd only just got back together, and, of course, she hadn't actually said that thing – or meant it, obviously, it was way too soon for that, of course it was – had she mentioned they'd only just got back together? - but she needed to find a way out of this, now, otherwise he would surely -

"Clarke?" He muttered, breaking into her definitely-not-at-all-panicked train of thought. "Don't freak out but – but I think I might love you. God, I know that probably sounds stupid. And I know it's probably way too soon and you're probably freaking out right now – hell, we've been speaking for, what, six months? And then we spent half of that not speaking again. It's just that, you know, I can be me with you, and you're so supportive, and – and I should probably stop talking right about now."

"I would." She agreed mildly. "Otherwise you might miss out on me telling you that – that I think I might love you, too."

It had been coming on for a while, now that she came to think of it. Or maybe she just felt like it had, because the dizzying happiness of today had rather eclipsed anything she might have been feeling before, made it rather tricky to recall all the hatred and anger they'd started out from, or got snagged on along the way.

In fact, Clarke Griffin could barely remember a time when she did not love Bellamy Blake.

a/n Thanks for reading! I hope you've enjoyed following this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it.