AN: The final holiday chapter – New Year's Eve! And of course I had to pick this chapter title from "Happy New Year" by ABBA – gotta promote some Swedish music :)
As you know if you've read my first 100 fic, I have nothing against Echo as a character, which is still true, but she did end up with a slightly less favorable take in this fic, sorry if you're a big Echo fan!
See the end of the chapter for warnings
18
Nothing More Than Confetti on the Floor
In Clarke's experience, time has a tendency to drag when you're looking forward to something, and skip by in big chunks when you're dreading what's coming.
Somehow, both of these seem to coincide over the next few days. Sometimes, it feels like she blinks and a whole afternoon has just flown by, other times she actually has to double check the time on her phone, because she's convinced the clock on the wall above the TV must have stopped.
Bellamy's working again, but without his classes and her homework sessions, which are on hiatus while the kids are on Christmas break, they still get to spend more time together during the days, which she loves. He usually gets home around four thirty, which gives them hours in the early evening to just lounge around, watch movies, or… well, do other things. It seems that telling her about Octavia opened some sort of floodgates in Bellamy and they spend hours and hours talking, exploring each other's bodies in between.
He tells her about his sister's first day of school, when her teacher brought her into Bellamy's classroom in the middle of second period, tears streaming down her face because some kid had teased her about her clothes, which as always came from the thrift shop and were a little too big and too worn. And about how he pushed the little nine-year-old that had done it up against the brick wall behind the school during lunch and calmly, though he was shaking with rage on the inside, told him that if he ever made fun of O again, he'd have to eat his fancy lunch through a straw.
She learns about Octavia's first real boyfriend, a fifteen-year-old named Atom, of all things, that she brought home in ninth grade. Bellamy spent the entire evening when the couple were watching a movie on the couch in their living room glaring at him. The day after, Octavia furiously yelled at him that Atom had broken up with her because she had a 'scary brother', and then she didn't talk to him for a week.
He talks about his mom for an entire afternoon one day – her dark sense of humor, the clothes she made herself, how she squinted whenever she read but still refused to get glasses, the cloud of flowery perfume that sometimes surrounded her when she was in a good mood. How he, at fourteen, realized that the men that came around late at night and locked the door to her bedroom weren't her boyfriends…
"I probably should have figured it out sooner than I did," he admits, fingers busy with a loose thread on the blanket that's draped over their naked bodies. Their clothes are scattered around the room, neither of them bothering to get dressed after collapsing on the couch an hour or so ago. "It only happened during the periods when she was home during the days, which of course meant that she didn't have any regular work, so… and it explains why she always brushed off the question whenever O asked about her dad, she probably didn't even know who he was." He sighs, his head falling back against the couch. "But who wants to admit that about their mom, you know?"
Clarke wants to comfort him, needs to, so she does the only thing she can think of – crawls into his lap and wraps her arms around him, letting him bury his face against her shoulder. He doesn't cry, but she feels his breath hitch now and then against her skin, and he stays there, arms wrapped tightly around her, for a long time.
When he pulls away, it's only to kiss her, hard and demanding, and when she rises up to take him inside her a little later, there's a kind of raw need to the act that she hasn't felt with him before. He clings to her, grip painful on her hips – she knows she'll have bruises tomorrow but she doesn't care – and for the first time, he finishes without making sure she does first.
He rectifies that right away, of course, by pushing her down on the couch, mouth hot and wet against her breast, two fingers buried deep inside her and thumb rubbing insistent circles against her clit until she's a panting, writhing mess beneath him as waves of pleasure wash over her.
He slumps down next to her and pulls her half on top of him as she struggles to catch her breath. She reaches behind her to grab the blanket on the floor, where it ended up at some point during the last half hour or so, and pulls it over them again.
Bellamy's silent until she's finally breathing normally again, his hand constantly trailing up and down her back under the blanket.
"It was me who found her," he then says quietly, and Clarke moves a little, propping her chin against his chest so she can look at him. He meets her gaze for a moment before closing his eyes. "I mean, I'm forever grateful that Octavia didn't have to go through that, but… I'll never forget that moment, seeing her on the floor in the kitchen…"
"Do you know what happened?" Clarke asks gently when he trails off.
"The doctor said it was a brain aneurysm," he replies. "He said it would have been over in seconds, that she didn't feel anything… for a long time after, I was convinced he was lying to make me feel better. I mean, who would tell an eighteen-year-old that just found his mother dead that she'd been in excruciating pain, you know? Or that he could have saved her if only he'd been home when it happened?"
She can absolutely understand that feeling.
"I don't think he was," she still says. "Aneurysms are really quick, she might have had a bit of a headache but nothing more than that."
"I know. I think it was a defense mechanism, to be honest," Bellamy admits. "To keep the guilt away… I was mad at the doctor instead of being mad at myself for not being there, not getting home earlier… I was just hanging out at Miller's playing video games, not doing anything important…"
"Hey," she says, a little sharper than she had intended, and he opens his eyes to look at her. "It wasn't your fault, you have to know that. You couldn't have done anything even if you had been there."
He offers her a half-smile, one hand coming up to cup her cheek and she leans into the touch.
"I know that now," he assures her. "I went through this crazy guilt trip after O left where I tried to blame myself for every single thing that was wrong with my life. Miller finally snapped, dragged me to his uncle who's a neurosurgeon and had him explain it in great detail to me. Even if I had been there and she complained about a headache or nausea, I probably wouldn't have called an ambulance, and even if I did, odds are it wouldn't have made it in time anyway."
"Good." She realizes what she's said. "Oh God, not 'good' that your mom died, 'good' that you realized it wasn't your fault and stopped blaming yourself."
Bellamy chuckles a little. "I know what you mean, relax."
She lets out a relieved breath. "Good, I managed to avoid putting my foot in my mouth at the very last second."
He just rolls his eyes before hiding a huge yawn behind his hand.
"Tired?" Clarke asks, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead, her thumb grazing the Number – 210 today – there briefly.
"Is it too early to call it a night?"
She looks up at the clock. Just a little after ten thirty.
"Who cares?" she says. "So what if we want to go to bed before eleven on a Saturday."
"Yeah, you're right. Screw it."
"Besides, we both have work tomorrow."
Bellamy nods thoughtfully. "So we're really just being responsible adults."
"Exactly."
She pushes herself off him and gets to her feet, turning towards the windows to take in the night-time view of Manhattan, which she will never get tired off. She hears him get up too and senses him behind her, so when she stretches her arms over her head to work out some kinks in her shoulders and back from the less than comfortable position on the couch, she doesn't quite jump when she feels his chest press against her back and his hands come up to cup her breasts.
He presses a kiss to her shoulder. "Do you have any idea how hot you look, Princess, buck naked in the middle of the living room, stretching like that? You know what you do to me?"
Clarke leans her head back against him, tilting it to the side to give him better access to her throat. "Hmm, not really… you might need to show me."
And dear God, he does.
In the end, it's well past midnight when they finally succumb to sleep.
-100-
On the afternoon the day before New Year's Eve, it actually snows, not quite for the first time this year but close enough. Clarke's on her way home from a Transfer that she's told Bellamy is a second story time at the library and is just rounding the corner to her street when the first flake lands in her hair. She pauses for a moment, turning her head to the skies, and when a few more flakes get stuck in her eyelashes, a huge smile spreads on her face.
"It's snowing!" she exclaims as soon as she opens the door to the apartment. It's Sunday, so Bellamy's only worked a half-day and has probably been home for a couple of hours by now.
"Hello to you too," she hears from the living room, and when she rounds the kitchen, she finds him on the couch, Bastet stretched out on her back next to him. Some game show is playing on the TV, the sound turned down, and there's a box from her favorite bakery on the breakfast bar.
The domesticity of the scene in front of her makes a lump form in her throat, and she swallows it down hard before putting the smile back on.
"Did you hear what I said? It's snowing!"
He chuckles. "I did hear you. What's so amazing about that? This is New York, it has been known to happen."
Clarke huffs impatiently. "It's the first snow of the year, it's magical."
"It's not, it snowed, like, two weeks ago. And we practically had a snowstorm back in November, I remember because I actually didn't have to go into work."
"OK, fine, not the first snow of the year, but the first snow when we can actually go outside and enjoy it."
He watches her for a moment. "Yeah, I'm going to pass. But have fun."
She narrows her eyes at him as he turns back to the TV. Well, if he won't believe in the magic of snow, she'll just have to show him.
She goes into the kitchen and grabs everything she needs for Raven's hot cocoa. She pours milk into the pot and sets it on the stove, the other ingredients waiting on the counter next to her.
Apparently, her unusual presence in the kitchen grabs Bellamy's attention, and before the milk has even started boiling, he's come to investigate, leaning against the other side of the breakfast bar.
"What're you up to?" he asks, a slight note of suspicion in his voice.
Clarke rolls her eyes. "Relax, I'm just making hot chocolate. I won't burn the kitchen down."
He still climbs onto one of the bar stools. "If you say so."
"What's in that?" she asks, nodding at the bakery box on the counter.
He opens the box and shows her – six delicious looking cupcakes.
"You went all the way to Buttercup just to get those?"
He shrugs. "My last delivery was in that area, so I stopped by."
She leans across the counter to give him a kiss. "Thank you. They're perfect."
"Perfect? For what?"
The milk starts boiling at that moment, so she ignores his question to finish the hot cocoa, pouring it into two large mugs.
"Grab a blanket and those and come with me," she says before heading back into the hallway.
"Why are we having hot chocolate and cupcakes on the roof?" Bellamy asks as she opens the door to the stairway leading up to the little patch of roof by the maintenance for the elevator.
"I told you – it's snowing."
She hears him sigh behind her but he does follow her up.
It's still snowing, she's relieved to find, and has actually picked up a little, the flakes larger and coming down faster. She puts the mugs down on the brick half-wall that acts as a railing to unfold the chairs and then sits down on one of them, patting the other for Bellamy to do the same. He sinks down on the chair and puts the bakery box next to the mugs.
"Yup, it's snowing alright," he notes, warily watching a snowflake land on his arm.
"It's not dangerous!" Clarke exclaims, grabbing the blanket from him and wrapping it around both of them.
She takes the mugs and hands them to him before grabbing the box and stretching her legs out to rest against the wall – it's just the perfect height. She opens the box and puts it in her lap before taking one of the mugs back, bringing it to her lips to take a big sip.
"Mmm, wonderful."
Bellamy raises his mug too and takes a tentative sip.
"It's really good."
"Raven's recipe," she admits, grabbing one of the cupcakes. "See, this is nice?"
He rolls his eyes but takes the cupcake she offers him. "It is."
He doesn't sound overly enthused, but she can work on that.
They sit in silence for a while, eating their cupcakes and drinking their chocolate. When both the box and the mugs are empty, Clarke puts them down on the edge again before pulling Bellamy to his feet and wrapping her arms around him. She leans her head against his chest and looks out over Brooklyn, soft snowflakes slowly making their ways through the cold air.
"I always thought the city changed when it snowed," she says quietly after a moment. "It's softer, you know, less harsh."
"I guess I can see that," he agrees, wrapping the discarded blanket around her like a cape.
"So…" she starts, looking up at him. "Can you see the magic of snow yet?"
There are snowflakes in his hair, a few clinging to his eyelashes, and his eyes are intense as they meet hers.
"I think I'm starting to," he says before leaning down and capturing her mouth in a kiss.
His lips are cold and taste like snow and chocolate and vanilla frosting, and it's the best thing she's ever tasted.
-100-
Of course, the snow doesn't stay, and New Year's Eve is grey and dreary, clouds hanging low and threatening some sort of precipitation, though Clarke suspects it'll be rain. This turns out to be right – the first few drops fall a little after noon, and by early evening, it's pouring down outside.
It only took a little bit of hinting that Miller might not have time to get everything done by the evening for Bellamy to suggest that maybe he should head over early to help out. He left just after they'd grabbed some lunch, just in time for Clarke to make it to her first Transfer.
Now, she's getting home from the second one and has about half an hour to get ready before Raven, Zeke and the Uber taking them to Forest Hills will be there. The six of them are having dinner before the rest of the guests arrive.
She's had some foresight, so the dress Raven forced her to buy the other day is laid out on the bed along with underwear and a pair of pantyhose, and her favorite heels are on the floor, completing the outfit.
She takes the fastest shower she can, not bothering with her hair – it'll need to be washed tomorrow anyway, with all the products she'll have to put in it to get it to behave the way she wants – and gets dressed before putting on her make-up and fixing her hair.
She finishes with about a minute to spare before her phone dings with a message from Raven, saying that they're downstairs.
She makes sure all the blinds are closed in her bedroom and leaves the door to the walk-in closet open – most of the time, Bastet doesn't even care about fireworks, but sometimes she's terrified and her favorite hiding spot is in the deepest corner of the closet.
There's not too much traffic – it's only a little after six, most partygoers won't be leaving their homes for a while. The door to the building is propped open using a wooden wedge, maybe by Bellamy or Miller, maybe by someone else having a party who doesn't want to be buzzing people in all night.
Jackson opens the door when they ring the doorbell.
"Hey, guys, welcome."
"Hi Jackson," Clarke greets him and then frowns. "I was going to introduce you guys, but I assume you actually know each other better than we do, so I'll just skip that."
Jackson laughs. "We probably do, yeah. Good to see all of you, thanks for coming."
All four of them exchange hugs and handshakes before Jackson leads the way to the kitchen, where Bellamy and Miller are arguing about… garlic?
"That's enough!" Miller says as they enter the kitchen. "It says eight cloves of garlic, I put in eight."
"They always go easy on garlic in recipes," Bellamy replies, popping another clove in the garlic press. "We can use at least two more."
"Just in time to defuse the Great Garlic Grapple of 2018," Jackson stage whispers, drawing both cooks' attention to the new arrivals. "They've been going at it for ten minutes."
"Just because you refuse to act as a referee," Miller shoots back, wiping his hands on the 'Kiss the cook' apron he has on and rounding the breakfast bar.
"I'm biased," Jackson says with a shrug. "But look, two completely neutral people right here."
"Perfect." Miller gives Raven a kiss on the cheek. "Hey, thanks for coming. How do you feel about garlic?"
Raven pulls away with a laugh. "Thanks for inviting us. And I'm afraid I have to side with Bellamy on this one – the spicier, the better."
Miller's eyes narrow slightly. "Right then. Zeke," he says, turning his attention to the man in question. "Same question for you. Keep in mind that I handled clean-up duty after the holiday party at the center. Someone had spiked the punch, there was vomit all over the bathrooms. I saved you from that."
Zeke shakes his head as he gives Miller one of those guy hugs. "And I really appreciated that, man, but I'm afraid I am of the same opinion as the lady."
Miller sighs. "And I don't even have to ask you what you think," he says to Clarke, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek as well.
"Sorry, Miller, looks like you're outnumbered. How was the cruise?"
That pulls a laugh from him. "Apart from the fact that Jackson and I lowered the average age by about twenty-five years, it was great. All you can eat buffet every night, lounging by the pool all day… heaven."
"I'm glad you had a good time then, despite the age difference."
She squeezes Miller's hand before going to join Bellamy by the stove.
"Hi," he greets her with a smile.
"Hey," she replies, realizing that she barely needs to reach up to be able to kiss him in these shoes.
He returns the kiss, hand sliding around to land on her lower back, warm against the bare skin there. "Mmm, I like this dress…"
The dress is much more daring than anything Clarke would ever pick on her own. It's long sleeved with a high boat neck in the front – which luckily means she can wear a stick on bra – but her back is almost completely bare. There's just a narrow strap across the top of her shoulders and neck, and then the bottom of the dress starts about half an inch above her panties, before ending about two inches below her butt. It's very tight, which is probably lucky since it means it should – theoretically – stay in place and not ride up, and entirely covered in royal blue sequins.
"Raven made me buy it," she admits.
"Remind me to thank Raven."
Someone clearing their throat reminds them that they do in fact have an audience, and Bellamy takes a quick step back.
"Go sit down, food's almost done."
Even Miller has to admit that the extra two cloves of garlic made the shrimp da friavolo just perfect.
When they've finished the dessert – raspberry panna cotta with grated chocolate – they all help to set out snacks and drinks in the living room, just in time for the first guests to arrive.
Clarke's not normally a big fan of New Year's Eve parties – it's just an arbitrary day, after all, that someone at some point decided was the last day of the year and deserved to be celebrated. Personally, she prefers the Chinese tradition of instead celebrating the first day of the new year.
But tonight, she really does have a great time. Bellamy barely leaves her side, an arm around her waist or shoulders at all times, and introduces her to everyone he knows with a 'this is Clarke, my girlfriend', which makes her feel all warm inside even though it's been over two weeks since they had the whole relationship talk.
An hour or so after the other guests start arriving, they're sort of half hidden in a corner of the living room. Miller and Jackson just left to get more drinks, and the room is starting to fill up quite a bit. Bellamy's in the middle of telling her about last New Year's, when Miller ended up falling asleep in the bath tub, when he suddenly trails off and takes a step to the left, so she's between him and the rest of the room.
"What is it?" Clarke asks, glancing over her shoulder.
"Nothing, just… Echo."
That doesn't actually explain anything. "What?"
"She moved in across the hall in the spring," Bellamy explains. "She came over at least once a week asking for some favor – 'could you help me move this' or 'oh, I can't reach to change this light bulb, could you help me', stuff like that. I mean, I knew she was flirting or whatever, I just… wasn't really interested. Then Miller invited her to his 4th of July party and, well, I was pretty drunk and we ended up hooking up. I tried to sort of let her down gently or whatever but she can't seem to take a hint."
"Hmm…" Clarke glances around the room again, trying to spot the woman in question with barely anything to go on.
"It was just the once, I promise," he hurries to add. "I even told her I was seeing someone, back in August or something, which I obviously wasn't, but she wouldn't back off and I didn't know what else to do… either she didn't believe me or she just didn't care."
"Relax," she tells him with a laugh. "It was months before we even met."
He shrugs. "Well, yeah, but…"
"Oh, I think I've got her." She's spotted a tall, skinny brunette looking around with purpose, obviously in search of something… or someone. "Your eleven o'clock, red dress?"
Bellamy nods. "Yup."
"Yeah, she doesn't need any help changing light bulbs… You want me to help you get through to her?"
"Would you?" The relief in his eyes is obvious. "I mean, I haven't seen her in a couple of weeks, since I've barely been home, but Miller told me she stopped by the other day."
Clarke's already making a little plan in her mind. "Of course. Did you tell her anything about the person you were supposed to be dating back in August?"
He thinks for a moment. "No, just that I was seeing someone."
"No names, timeframes, nothing like that?" He shakes his head. "OK. Be right back."
She turns away from him and starts weaving through the crowd to the other side of the room. She sees the moment Echo spots Bellamy in the corner, her eyes lighting up with an almost predatory glint, but Clarke fights the urge to turn right back around. Instead, she gives it a few minutes.
Honestly, she can't believe that the other woman can't tell how uncomfortable Bellamy is when she's leaning in too close, touching his arm, laughing at something he said that obviously wasn't funny…
When she thinks she's given them enough time alone, Clarke makes her way back across the room.
"Hey, babe, sorry, there was a line to the bathroom," she says, easily sliding in between Echo and the wall to wrap an arm around Bellamy's waist.
He lets out a relieved breath, arm sneaking around her to pull her closer. "No worries."
She turns to focus on Echo, smiling brightly at her. "Hi! I'm Clarke, Bellamy's girlfriend, I don't think we've met."
Echo hesitantly takes her hand, the flirty smile slipping off her face.
"Echo, nice to meet you."
Clarke lets the bright smile fall a little, hoping Echo will think that she's heard of her. Which is technically true, even if it was only a few minutes ago. "Nice to meet you."
Echo's eyes turn calculating. "So how long have you two been dating?"
She's clearly not ready to give up… Clarke can work with that. She turns to look up at Bellamy, putting on a dreamy smile that she sincerely hopes will never again appear on her face. "How long has it been, babe, five months?"
He nods. "Something like that."
She turns back to Echo. "We met the weekend after 4th of July but it took a week or so before he got around to actually asking me out. You know how guys can be, they want to be absolutely sure you're interested before they make a move."
The other woman's eyes turn cold. "Sure do. Well, I should probably…" She nods at the room in general. "It was nice meeting you."
"You too!" Clarke replies with another bright smile as she turns around and starts heading in the direction of the hallway.
When she disappears from view, Bellamy lets out a relieved breath. "You are amazing," he announces.
She just shrugs. "Sometimes it takes a woman to get through to another woman, you know."
"Thank you."
"Oh, please." She leans in for a quick kiss. "It was just as much for my benefit. Not like I want some woman who can't take no for an answer sniffing around my guy."
He chuckles a little. "Yours, huh?"
"Damn right. Now let's enjoy the rest of the party."
And they do. Clarke doesn't want to drink too much, since she really doesn't want to be hung-over during their talk in the morning, so she just sips her drinks. But she's never been one to need alcohol to have fun, and over the next few hours, she has a blast talking, laughing and dancing with her friends. When midnight approaches and someone turns the TV to the broadcast from Times Square, she's still pleasantly buzzed though.
She's leaning against the wall by the window by the fire escape, which is open for people who want to smoke or just cool down a little. It's empty at the moment, though, everyone having come back inside to not miss the countdown, which should be starting any moment now. Bellamy went off to get them champagne to toast a few minutes ago, and she looks around for a moment, spotting him crossing the room towards her.
"Here you are." She accepts the glass he holds out to her, and he glances over his shoulder at the crowd in the living room. "Want to get some air?"
He nods at the open window, and she hums in agreement. She has to sit down on the sill to avoid showing everyone her underwear, and then carefully set her feet down on the fire escape, to avoid her heels going through, but she manages.
"Are you having a good time?" he asks when they're both leaning against the railing. It's cold, but Clarke's overheated from the crowded living room and it just feels nice.
"I am," she assures him.
"Good." Bellamy takes a zip of champagne. "Raven said she and Zeke have an Uber booked for half past midnight, I was thinking maybe we could piggy back with them and head home? You said Bas is sometimes scared of the fireworks, right? Check to make sure she's OK."
The combination of calling her apartment 'home' and worrying about her cat hits her right in the feels, and for a moment, she can just nod.
"Are you sure?" she then asks.
"Yeah." He frowns at her. "You OK?"
Of course he picks up on her emotional moment. "Fine. Just nostalgic, I guess? Another year gone, you know."
He nods. "Well, yeah. But a new one's beginning, too. And I have a feeling this year is going to be the best year ever."
Despite the way her stomach falls at his prediction, Clarke forces a smile onto her face. "Absolutely."
"Ten!" comes from inside the apartment at that moment and they both look through the window at the people gathered around the TV.
"Want to go back inside?" Bellamy asks, but she shakes her head.
"Let's stay out here. We can still hear the countdown."
He takes a step closer, wrapping an arm around her waist and she leans against him.
"Seven!"
"You know, I've heard that what you do on New Year's Eve is what you'll do for the year to come," he says.
"Oh yeah?"
"Three!"
"I would love to spend all of 2019 with you."
She feels a lump in her throat at that but tries to brush it off.
"I would spend every single day with you," she says honestly.
"Happy New Year!" Excited voices burst through the window, and Bellamy smiles down at her.
"Happy New Year, Princess."
"Happy New Year," she just gets out before his lips are on hers.
AN: Again, a little bit of explicit sexual content in there, but not that much
