AN: Picking up literally where we left off this time, the rest of the morning after. Hope you like it… Funny side note – Clarke's cat is actually based on my own two fur babies who, I swear, understand the word "treats" (or the Swedish word "godis") and will basically come whenever they hear it

Chapter title from "Can't Help Falling in Love" by Elvis Presley (originally) and UB40 (which was the version I was thinking of). As usual, I don't own anything relating to The 100

12

Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too

When Clarke enters the kitchen, Bellamy is at the stove, a large but still empty pan on one burner and a bowl in his hands. The toaster is plugged in on the counter, two slices already in it, and there's an empty bread basket waiting next to it.

He looks up when he hears her, a smile appearing on his face when their eyes meet. "Hey there."

She returns the smile, pulling out one of the bar stools and climbing onto it. It's starting to feel a little like her spot, which she likes. "Hey. I hope you don't mind, I'm commandeering your shirt a little longer."

He lets his eyes run down from hers, taking in the shirt in question, before meeting her eyes again and raising an eyebrow. "Feel free to wear my clothes whenever you want. In fact, I encourage it. It definitely looks better on you."

She laughs and shakes her head, pushes down the flash of desire his intense gaze and the words caused to shoot through her. "OK, good."

"Scrambled eggs and toast OK?" he asks, opening a drawer and finding a whisk. "We don't have much else, to be honest, so keep that in mind when you answer."

"It's perfect," she assures him.

He shoots her another smile before starting to whisk the eggs that she assumes he's already cracked in the bowl. She watches him work in silence, pouring the eggs into the pan and removing the finished toast when they pop up, putting another couple of slices in the toaster.

"You said you have work this afternoon?" he asks after a while, glancing up from the stove and Clarke nods. "When do you need to head out?"

She considers it for a moment. It's Sunday, so traffic shouldn't be too bad, but she still needs to go home first. "Probably in an hour or so? I have a story time at two thirty, but I need to stop at home and change, and probably grab a light lunch before my shift, I won't be done until around four. Actually, I should probably get an Uber, there might not be any nearby…"

"Hey, no, I'll take you," Bellamy says immediately, continuing when she opens her mouth to argue. "Seriously, I need to get out of the apartment anyway, stop by the store for some provisions before I hunker down for an afternoon in front of the computer. Plus, it's completely selfish – I'll drive you home, wait while you get changed, and then I'll take you to the library. You don't have to leave as early, and I get to spend more time with you."

His little speech is really cute, and she's already convinced before he even stops talking. "Are you sure?" she still asks, holding back a smile.

"Positive," he tells her, leaving the stove and leaning across the breakfast counter towards her. "And maybe we can grab something to eat at that diner you took me to last week? I mean, if you're going to that library and not different one."

"It's that one," Clarke confirms.

"Yeah? So, what do you say? Unless you were planning something else, of course."

His eyes are intent on hers, his thumb rubbing against her arm as he waits for her reply.

"I didn't have any plans at all, so that sounds great," she replies with a smile, noticing how his shoulders seem to relax.

"Good," Bellamy says with a nod, reaching up to cup her neck and pull her in for a kiss.

She returns it for a moment, but then pulls back. "The eggs," she reminds him when he frowns slightly at her, and he quickly returns to the stove.

"Fine, prioritize getting fed," he says, voice amused. "I see how it is."

She watches him for a little longer, noticing that he seems lighter than a moment ago, standing taller somehow. Almost like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

She wonders if he was actually worried that she was just going to take off, if he's still expecting her to bolt at any moment. The contrast between this insecure side of him and the guy that fucked her until she could barely stand just a little while ago is stark and makes her heart ache a little, since she knows it must be because of her disappearing act on Halloween.

Not that she can really blame him.

Before she can second guess herself, she slides off the stool and rounds the counter, coming up behind him silently. She wraps her arms around his waist and leans her cheek against his back, breathing in the scent of the shower gel that she knows she must smell like herself.

Bellamy freezes for a moment, but then he relaxes, one hand coming up to squeeze hers.

Clarke knows, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that she's in this, until the bitter end, even knowing it will come much too soon. Now she just has to make him believe that.

The moment stretches on, her cheek pressed against his back, his heart beating softly in her ear. She closes her eyes and just lets herself exist, the heat from his body seeping through her shirt and into her skin, warming her from head to toe and right down to her bones.

The sound of the toast popping up in the toaster makes them both jump, and Bellamy clears his throat.

"The eggs are almost done, you want to grab juice and butter and stuff for the toast from the fridge?" he suggests. "I think we have at least strawberry jam, I hope that's OK."

"It's fine," Clarke replies, pressing her lips to his shoulder blade before reluctantly letting him go and opening the fridge.

She finds orange juice and apple juice and brings both to the kitchen table. As Bellamy thought, there's strawberry jam half-hidden behind a carton of milk, and she also finds an almost empty jar of blueberry jam that she sets out on the table as well.

"Glasses?" she asks, and Bellamy nods at the cupboard above the sink.

She gets glasses and cutlery for both of them and sets all of it on the table before grabbing plates as well, which she leaves by the stove for the eggs. Remembering that Bellamy got ingredients for the dessert last night from one of the cupboards, she opens it and surveys its contents.

"Hey," she says when she spots a jar of Nutella on the top shelf. "You were holding out on me!"

She has to stand on her tiptoes to reach it, but she manages to wrap her fingers around it without dropping it and holds it out almost accusatory. Bellamy just shrugs and turns back to the eggs.

"That's technically Miller's, not that he'll mind if you have some. I'm not much for Nutella, to be honest," he says, and Clarke's jaw drops.

"How can you not like Nutella?" she asks incredulously. "That's like not liking… kittens or ice cream or world peace!"

He snorts at the last one. "I'm pretty sure that's a slight exaggeration, but fine – I've never actually tried it. We never had Nutella when I was a kid, couldn't afford it. Octavia used to complain that all her friends had sandwiches with Nutella for lunch in middle school, when it started getting popular, and I had to explain to her why she couldn't have it… I guess I developed some sort of grudge against it, almost."

Clarke instantly feels bad and takes the few steps needed to cross the kitchen to where he's standing by the stove, taking his hand in hers and squeezing. "That sucks, I'm sorry. But seriously, you have to try it. I promise you that the first bite will be… a revelation."

He rolls his eyes at her exaggeration, but doesn't argue, just squeezes her hand back before letting go. He grabs the bread basket and moves it to the kitchen table before returning to the stove and dividing the scrambled eggs between the two plates.

"Breakfast is served, your highness," he says with a bow after setting the plates down on the table.

"You know, this whole Princess thing is getting a little old," she complains as she sits down.

"Oh please," he replies. "You love it."

She shakes her head but he's right, really. She does kind of like it when he calls her Princess… especially during sex.

Instead of admitting it, though, she busies herself with taking a bite of the eggs.

"These are amazing, maybe even better than Cheryl's," she compliments him. "How do you get them so creamy?"

He pours himself some orange juice and holds the carton up to her in question, filling her glass as well when she nods, before answering.

"The trick is to cook them really slowly," he explains. "Lowest heat, don't rush it. Some milk or cream is good too, but not really necessary."

"Huh." Clarke takes another bite, really savoring the soft, gooey eggs before swallowing. "I guess I'm too impatient."

Bellamy pauses with the fork halfway to his mouth and raises an eyebrow. "You make scrambled eggs?"

She kicks him lightly under the table. "Yes, actually, I do."

"Sorry," he apologizes. "It's just, I thought you were completely lost in the kitchen."

"I am," she admits with a shrug. "Except when it comes to certain breakfast foods, for some reason – scrambled eggs, omelets, pancakes, hash browns, that I can do."

"So what I'm hearing is let you make breakfast next time?"

The reference to future breakfasts – and nights – together makes Clarke's stomach flip and she looks down at her plate to hide her smile.

"Sure, I can do that."

They eat in silence for a moment, until Bellamy reaches for a slice of toast.

"So, this Nutella thing… do you put butter under it, or just the Nutella?" he asks, looking up at her.

She shrugs. "It's a matter of taste, I guess. I prefer just Nutella, but Raven can't eat it without butter. I'm sure there's an ongoing war about it on, like, Tumblr or Twitter, neither side giving an inch. Try both."

He nods absentmindedly, buttering half his toast before sticking a knife in the jar of Nutella and spreading it over the entire slice. He then takes a bite out of the side with butter and chews thoughtfully.

"That's pretty good," he admits after swallowing. "Not entirely sure about the butter, though."

"Try without."

Bellamy turns the toast and takes another bite, nodding appreciatively. "Definitely better. But it's a little rich for me, I don't think I would be able to eat more than a slice with this stuff."

Clarke laughs. "No, one's usually enough, even for me. But see, you did like it! Aren't you glad I made you try it?"

"Yeah, yeah," he says, rolling his eyes, but he then takes another, bigger bite of the toast.

Clarke finishes every last bite of her eggs, using her final piece of toast to soak up the last of it, despite the big portion. She hadn't realized she was actually pretty hungry until she started eating, really, but she supposes it's not strange considering how many calories she must have burned during last night's and this morning's activities.

They don't linger when they're done, deciding to just head back to her place and then to the diner, in case there's a lot of people. She somehow manages to convince Bellamy to let her clean up in the kitchen and puts everything away and loads the dishwasher while he disappears into his bedroom to get dressed. She tries to hide her disappointment when he returns a few minutes later, in jeans and a long sleeved, dark green t-shirt sans glasses. She really likes those…

They spend the drive discussing music, after Bellamy practically stabs at the radio buttons when Chained to the Rhythm comes on.

"What's wrong with Katy Perry?" Clarke asks. Not that she's a huge fan herself, but she can listen to the music without having to change the channel.

"Nothing, technically," he replies. "My sister played her album on repeat nonstop her whole sophomore year of high school, kind of ruined her music for me."

Clarke files that away as one more interesting fact about Bellamy Blake, another piece of the puzzle she's trying to put together that will give her the whole picture of him, leaves the radio on the classic rock channel he changed it to and asks about his favorite music. She's happy to find that they seem to have more or less the same taste, even though he tends to lean towards the harder end of the rock scale, slipping over into metal at times, while she usually places herself somewhere in the middle, with a penchant for early grunge and Britpop.

It takes a while to find parking when they get to her place, but eventually, they come across a man jumping into a car on a side street, and Bellamy immediately pulls into the parking space once it's open, turning off the engine but not unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Do you want me to wait here, or…?" he asks, turning to her.

She shakes her head. "No, come on up, you can go cat hunting while I change."

He chuckles, but jumps out of the truck and follows her around the corner and into her building. They ride the elevator up to her floor in comfortable silence, and soon they're standing in her living room.

"Bas," Clarke calls. "Come on, be social for once."

"You named your cat Bass?" Bellamy asks in an amused voice. "Like the fish?"

She rolls her eyes and goes into the kitchen where she finds a bag of cat treats in a cupboard.

"No, it's short for Bastet, you know, the…"

"Egyptian goddess," he finishes for her. "That's cool."

"She's a cool kitty." She opens the bag of treats. "Come on, Bas, I have treats."

"Can you actually call a cat?" he questions, just as Bastet jumps onto the kitchen counter next to Clarke, letting out a questioning meow. "I guess you can."

"She's smart, I swear she understands the word T-R-E-A-T-S," she says, dropping a couple of treats onto the floor for Bas. "Right, keep Bellamy company while I get changed, OK, Bas?"

The cat, of course, ignores her in favor of the treats on the floor, and she shrugs and hands the bag to Bellamy.

"You can give her a couple more if you want to bribe her to not go hide under the couch again," she says, reaching up to give him a quick kiss before heading into her bedroom.

She changed into her own top before leaving Bellamy's place, so she pulls it off and throws it into the hamper before going into the walk-in closet. After some rummaging around, she finds a soft cashmere sweater in a deep ocean blue, with a high collar that covers the love bite on her neck. She pulls it on before shimmying out of her leggings and stepping into a pair of jeans instead.

Satisfied with her outfit, she heads into the bathroom where she quickly applies a tiny bit of make-up, just enough to make her feel human, and pulls her hair into a messy bun – she doesn't have the energy to do anything more elaborate with it.

When she returns to the living room, Bellamy's sitting on the couch, Bastet curled up next to him, purring as he scratches behind her ears.

"Looks like you have a new fan," she notes, and he looks up.

"She has a soft spot for treats and ear rubs," he says, giving her an appreciative once-over. "That was quick."

She shrugs. "Sorry to put a long time stereotype to death, but not all women take ages getting ready."

"I grew up with a sister who could spend an hour in the bathroom before school in the morning at the age of thirteen, so you can see why I'm impressed when you come out looking like that after just five minutes."

She soaks up the half-spoken compliment. "Well, teenage girls are a breed of their own, I'm not sure that's a fair comparison."

Bellamy laughs at that. "Maybe you're right. Ready to head out again?"

"Yup, just need to grab my charger, my phone was at seventeen percent earlier, it won't survive until I get off work later."

He gives Bastet one final scratch and then gets up from the couch, letting Clarke lead the way around the kitchen to her desk, where she digs her spare charger out of a drawer, before they leave.

Cheryl's is packed, as usual on Sundays, but two stools by the counter are free and they quickly claim them. The waiter behind the counter immediately takes their order, and they both opt for sandwiches today – Clarke a Heidi (boiled eggs, avocado, greens, tomatoes, sprouts and herbed vinegar) and Bellamy a Bruce (grilled chicken, greens, tomatoes and chipotle mayo).

He helps her off with her jacket, hanging it and his own on a hook underneath the counter. His hand lingers on her back, sliding down and around her waist, and she leans lightly against him, careful not to jostle the stool too much.

"God, this sweater's like touching a cloud," he says after a moment.

"Mmm, that's cashmere, super soft," she agrees. "And bonus – high neck."

"Why's that a bonus?"

Clarke glances around to make sure no one's paying too much attention to them, before pulling the neck down to reveal the hickey.

Bellamy winces. "Sorry about that."

She leans into him, closing her eyes for a moment and breathing him in. She feels his fingers flex against her side and he tightens his hold on her. "I don't mind, I'm pretty sure I returned the favor. Still, don't want the three-to-five-year-olds to come home from story time asking why the nice lady reading had a big bruise on her neck, you know."

"Yeah, might not make the best impression," he agrees with a chuckle.

"Nope. And the kids at my homework session were already teasing me on Wednesday when they somehow figured out that I had a date… need to nip that in the bud."

"Mmm, I promise I'll try to keep any marks contained to places that can be more easily hidden in the future," he murmurs in her ear, low enough none of the other patrons hear him. Clarke feels her heartrate pick up at his words and retaliates by sliding her hand along his thigh and squeezing lightly. She gets a sharp breath in return. "Behave."

"Or what?" she retorts, meeting his eyes with a challenging smirk.

Bellamy's eyes narrow slightly and she feels his thumb slide higher, grazing her breast through her sweater and bra, but it's not like he can do much more without drawing attention to them… or getting them kicked out. Which might have been worth it if they were somewhere else, but she really likes Cheryl's.

At that moment, two glasses are put down on the counter in front of them, followed by their sandwiches, and he pulls his arm from around her seemingly reluctantly.

"How about we table that for later?" he suggests, giving her one last, long look. The heat in his gaze makes her stomach swoop.

"I'll definitely hold you to that."

The corner of his mouth quirks up a little. "Good."

Clarke picks up their music conversation from the car earlier as they eat, which turns into one about sports – Bellamy still holds onto his 'nerd background' (his own words, she's not sure she believes him without some sort of proof) and refuses to get into sports on principle, even though he and Miller play both Fifa 18 and Madden NFL on Miller's PS4, while Clarke loves basketball and immediately vows to drag him along to the Knicks next home game, because 'quite frankly, it should be a requirement to go to at least one of their games before you're even allowed to call yourself a New Yorker'. This somehow leads them into the topic of politics, where she's relieved to find that they share most opinions.

By the time they've finished their sandwiches, it's already after two.

"Crap, I should probably get going," Clarke says when she spots the time on the TV behind the counter, which is turned to CNN. "I need to pick out which books I'm reading today before the kids arrive."

"Oh," Bellamy replies, a small wrinkle between his eyebrows, but he hands over her jacket. "Yeah, come on."

They parked a few streets over, and he should be heading in the opposite direction to Clarke, but when they step out onto the sidewalk, he turns in the direction of the library.

"I'll walk you," he says and she smiles, looping her arm through his.

"So…" she starts after a minute or so. "Lots of studying to get done today?"

He shrugs. "Not a lot, just a paper due tomorrow. The topic's not much fun – technical innovations that changed the textile industry in the 18th century – but it's half finished, so I should be able to wrap it up in a couple of hours. I hope."

"So that's your Sunday plans?"

"And I promised to pick up Miller and Jackson from the airport later," he adds. "They're flying into La Guardia at six thirty, so hopefully it won't take all evening. At least I don't have to cross the whole city to get to Newark."

"Right." They continue in silence.

"How about you?" Bellamy then asks. "Work and then what?"

"Going to the movies with Raven at six," Clarke says. She is meeting Raven, but not for a movie – she has a Transfer at six and another a little before eight, both in Greenwich Village, and she and Raven have plans to grab a coffee in between so Clarke doesn't have to wander around for two hours with nothing to do.

"That sounds fun. What are you seeing?"

She racks her brain for a moment, not wanting to mention some movie she hasn't seen in case he has seen it and wants to talk about it the next time they (hopefully) see each other. But she and Raven and Harper did go to the movies last weekend and saw Bohemian Rhapsody, so she goes with that one.

"Haven't seen it but I heard it's supposed to be good," Bellamy says when she's told him the name of it.

Personally, she loved the movie, and not just because she was a huge Queen fan back when they were active. "I'll let you know."

They've reached the library by now, and Clarke glances at her watch. Twenty minutes left, she doesn't have to run right away.

If she's reading him right – and she's fairly sure she is – they've both been circling around what they really want to ask during the last few minutes, so she decides to just jump in. It feels like it's her move to make.

"I should be home by nine or so," she says. "You know, if you're done with your paper by then and want to… I don't know, come over or something. Watch a movie, have a late dinner…"

God, she sounds like a teenage girl with her first crush from one of those annoying high school movies…

But then Bellamy smiles and she feels warm all over. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, unless it'll mess up your morning tomorrow, getting to work and stuff."

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks something. "OK, so the train takes forty minutes from my station, plus a five minute walk to the station, and the train from York Street takes six minutes… how long would you say it takes to get there from your place?"

She thinks about it for a moment. "Around five minutes too, probably. So you'd be saving at least half an hour."

"Yeah, that's the draw here, a shorter commute, not getting to spend more time with you," he says with a smirk, and Clarke punches him lightly in the shoulder.

"Good to know where I rank."

He chuckles and puts his phone away again. "So, yeah… why don't you let me know when you're on your way home? I can pick up takeout on the way, unless you and Raven are grabbing dinner too?"

She's planning some sort of late second lunch/early dinner before her first Transfer and just something lighter later, so she should be hungry enough by nine. "Nope, just the movie."

"OK, great." Bellamy nods, a smile still playing on his face. "I'll let you go, but I'll see you tonight."

"Yeah."

For a moment, it seems like he's about to turn away, but then he swoops down and kisses her, his arms going around her to pull her tight against him.

"OK, now I'm going," he says when he pulls away and Clarke laughs as she tries to catch her breath.

"OK. Good luck studying," she tells him. "Oh, and there's a parking garage in my building, one of the spaces is mine but I never use it. I'll text you how to get there, it's on one of the side streets, and the code for the door so you don't have to park on the street."

"Great. Now stop stalling and go read to the kids!"

She stays there watching him as he walks away, still feeling the ghost of his lips against hers. At the street, he turns back just as the light turns green, and raises his hand in an almost wave. She returns it, and he turns away again, joining the others crossing the street. Clarke finally turns away too, opening the door and entering the library.

God, she as it bad.