Clarke hung back in the lobby, the twisted handle of the CVS bag in one hand and her phone in the other, waiting as Bellamy jogged upstairs to investigate where everyone was.
His text came quickly, before she had much of a chance to unpack her emotions, which was probably a good thing.
B: Come up to your dorm. they are all still asleep in mine.
Attached to the text was an image that took Clarke several seconds to decipher. It was a tangle of limbs, dark hair and a crumpled blanket; a pile of people on the spare bed. Harper's leg braced against the wall, her arm slung over Octavia's face, and Raven curled into a ball at the foot of the bed, her head resting on Octavia's calf.
Clarke ached at the sight of the picture, however comical it may be, it only showed what she was missing out on. She should be lazing around Bellamy's dorm with the rest of them, and he should be too. But instead, they were doing this.
"Hey," Bellamy greeted as she swung the door open, breathing heavier than normal having just sprinted up the stairs.
"Fancy seeing you here," she said, shutting the door firmly.
Bellamy scoffed and pulled open the window blind before crossing the room and flicking on the bathroom light. Clarke stood and watched him, suddenly frozen with apprehension and fear at what was about to happen. Bellamy rummaged through the bathroom drawers, mumbling to himself.
Clarke was about to ask him what he was looking for, when she herself realized it.
"I should'a grabbed one of those cups when I was downstairs." He stood up, rubbing his brow.
"It's fine," Clarke said, glancing around. "I'll use this,"
She picked up the half full, green Nalgene bottle from her desk, barely noticing Bellamy's grimace over the flood of memories the bottle gave her. A sort of nostalgic longing flushed through her, because, of course, something as simple as a water bottle had ties to her father. When Clarke had acquired the bottle was a hazy, forgotten memory, but it had been her constant companion throughout high school, both at school, and on weekend nature hikes with her father. He'd once fished it out of a creek with a stick, snagging the plastic loop as it bobbed in the current after slipping out of Clarke's pack.
"Don't you drink out of that?" Bellamy disrupted her reverie.
Clarke shrugged. "Urine is sterile, and I'll wash it."
"Whatever works, I guess."
"We transported a tree in this bottle once," Clarke said, more to herself than Bellamy.
"Huh?"
"Yeah, one time my dad and I saw this scraggly little pine growing out of a crack in a rock, so we dug it up, filled the bottle with dirt, and brought it home. Transplanted it in our backyard, right beside my parent's bedroom window. Mom threw a fit, saying how it was going to grow and block all of the natural light, but it was like, two inches tall, so we just laughed. Now it's probably four feet tall, and when it's windy, it brushes against the glass so loudly my mom has to sleep on the couch. I don't think she minds now though… reminds her of Dad i'm sure."
Bellamy smiled and Clarke looked up. His brown eyes were warm and melted her from the inside out. "So, it's seen worse than a little bit of pee?"
"Oh yeah." She returned his smile. They stood for a moment, Clarke still reminiscing, before Bellamy broke the spell.
"Let me open these all up, and you go fill the bottle." He took the plastic bag from her hand and tipped the contents onto her rumpled bed.
"Well, when you put it like that…" Clarke said dryly, making Bellamy chuckle and shoo her into the bathroom.
Clarke clicked the door closed, and purposely avoiding her reflection in the mirror, poured the remaining water from the bottle, scraping her thumbnail against the scratched white lettering on the side.
Figuring out the logistics of the task at hand was fairly simple; it was a wide-mouthed bottle after all. She listened to Bellamy through the door as he opened up the cardboard boxes and rustled paper and felt so unbelievably grateful that he was here.
She slowly washed her hands and splashed some cool water on her face before opening the door. Bellamy stood in the morning light streaming through the window, his curls falling over his eyes as he read over the instructional sheet inside on the tests. He had his bottom lip pinched between his teeth as he alternated looking at the paper in one hand and the white stick in his other.
He looked up after a moment. "Okay, this one you dip, and this one you drip."
"What?" Clarke nearly giggled despite herself. Bellamy just had that effect on her, the innate ability to make an awful situation seem not so terrible. To make her smile, even in the face of a life altering event.
She set the bottle on the desk next to the rest of the things that Bellamy had laid out, sort of self conscious about the fact that she just set down a container of her own warm urine beside him.
"So you thought that was crazy, but wait til you hear this," He stated, grabbing up all three opened tests. "This one has two lines, this one has a plus sign, and this one actually says the word pregnant on it if it's positive."
"Wow," Clarke said, for lack of something better.
"It's wild," Bellamy agreed, placing the tests, two stick-like ones, and one smaller, rectangle one that came with a little dropper.
"You don't have to do this part," Clarke intercepted his hand as he reached for the Nalgene bottle.
He paused. "You think I'm going to get scared of a little pee?"
"No, but… it's kinda gross."
"You underestimate me, Clarke Griffin," he said simply, reaching over top of her barricading arm and picking up the bottle, holding it up to the light. "Hmm, four, no, four and a half ounces. Pretty weak performance," he said in a fake disapproving tone.
"Stop it!" Clarke snorted. "I haven't had anything to drink yet today."
Bellamy only clucked his tongue as he unscrewed the bottle and Clarke realized the absurdity of defending her amount of urine to Bellamy. To anybody! What a weird conversation.
Bellamy muttered aloud as he carried out all three tests, and Clarke found her heart beating faster and faster with every passing second. Bellamy counted as he held the sticks into the bottle before capping them and setting them face up on the desk. He tilted the bottle and drew up a dropper of liquid and counted out five drops for the rectangle test, then squirted the rest back into the bottle. Clarke wrung her hands as he stood up with a sigh.
"There," he tossed the dropper into the bathroom trash. "I was pretty good at that, maybe I should be a scientist?"
Clarke was too tense to joke now. "You can be whatever you want to be," she said honestly, grabbing the bottle and taking it to the bathroom. She poured out the contents and started scrubbing it under hot water, using hand soap and a washcloth. She had to keep her hands busy, even after she was satisfied that the bottle was clean, so they didn't shake. She scrubbed and scrubbed, seeing right through the washcloth and soap, through the bathroom and into nothing.
"Hey." A hand fell on her shoulder
Clarke gasped, the bottle slipping from her hands and clattering hollowly on the ceramic.
"Sorry, Princess," Bellamy murmured, reaching around her and shutting off the water before grabbing a towel and draping it across Clarke's red hands.
She mumbled a thank you and dried her hands, more forcefully than necessary. Bellamy plucked the towel from her after a long time and she slowly turned around, not looking at him, She braced herself on the sink and stared at Bellamy's shirt. It was the U of M one he had been wearing yesterday, the maroon cotton wrinkled and still smelling like sleep.
"Feeling okay?"
How to even answer that question… "I'm peachy," Clarke said in a weak attempt at a joke, clutching the cold ceramic lip of the sink, still scared her hands were shaking.
"Hmpf, cute," Bellamy scoffed. He stood close to her, close enough that she could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing, but she didn't feel cornered or pressured by him. Not at all. His proximity is like a shot of benzodiazepine, soothing her raging mind and relaxing her muscles.
"They need about three minutes to work, it says," Bellamy hinted. It had definitely been three minutes.
"Hmm." Clarke still wouldn't meet his gaze, instead opting to sweep some hair off the counter into the trash can below.
Bellamy made a noise of disgust. "I should have listened to your warning about staying out of your guys' bathroom."
"Huh?"
"You don't remember? When we were talking that one day, I don't even remember how it came up, but I told you something about how I don't like hair, and you said stay out of our bathroom, then. Four girls shed a lot."
"Oh yeah," Clarke brushed her hands on her pants. "You were saying what it was like to live with Octavia, that she always leaves her hair in the bathroom."
"That was it! I knew you'd remember."
"It's true though, girls do shed. And we all have long hair, and share one bathroom, so it's bound to be a bit...furry."
Bellamy chuckled, "Yeah," then paused. Clarke knit her fingers together, eyeing the tests from the bathroom, although she couldn't see the results from her vantage point. Bellamy must have followed her gaze, because he questioned, "Are you ready to look? We can wait, too. I like chillin' in the bathroom."
"I- Can you look?" Clarke asked, her voice breaking as she looked up to meet Bellamy's tender brown eyes for the first time since he came in.
He nodded slowly, considering her. "If you want me to."
"Yes," Clarke said hurriedly, her gaze flickering from the white sticks on the desk back to Bellamy. "Please, I really want you to."
"Okay," he agreed.
It felt like Bellmay could have run a marathon in the time it took him to walk from the bathroom to the desk, though it was a mere five steps. He framed the tests with his hands and leaned down, examining them closely. Clarke stood rooted to the white tile flooring, scarcely breathing, dread building higher and higher with every second Bellamy squinted at the tests.
Clarke already knew what they were going to say, so why was she panicking now? Why should a stupid piece of plastic make her feel as though she was being ripped apart at the seams, just by confirming something she already knew?
Finally, after an eternity and the whole world ceasing to spin, Bellamy straightened up and turned to Clarke, who was gripping the sink so hard she was shocked it hadn't splintered under her hands.
His face flickered like a fire with suppressed emotion. Was that a good or a bad sign? Was he trying to hide his fear, disappointment, concern? Or struggling to keep his celebration under wraps?
Clarke stared back at him, too terrified to move.
"Come look." He nodded towards the desk, his voice thick. Clarke managed a minute shake of her head, so Bellamy reached out a hand. His long fingers stretched out towards her, seeking her, biding her forward, waiting for her.
It took a moment to gather the courage, but Clarke pushed off the sink and latched onto Bellamy's hand, gripping so tightly she felt his knuckles roll together, squeezed to the point of cracking. He didn't seem to mind and he drew her in, like reeling in a fish. She came reluctantly, keeping her eyes on him, not looking towards the pregnancy tests lined up on the wooden desktop like soldiers, waiting to deliver the final blow.
Bellamy spun Clarke so her back pressed into his chest and she switched to clutching his forearm which he laid across her collarbone.
"Look," he gently commanded.
Clarke swallowed and stole herself.
A single line.
A negative sign.
A digital display reading NOT PREGNANT in definitive, all capital letters.
Bellamy thought he might have been more relieved than Clarke at the revelation that she wasn't pregnant. One would have thought it was his potential baby, the way a heavy sigh left his lungs and he felt like he was floating on clouds. He had offered for Clarke to say it was his...but the relief was more than avoiding that potential. It was more of a secondhand relief for Clarke, that she wouldn't be faced with an impossible choice or an unwanted baby.
"I'm not religious, but I feel like I should be kneeling down to a higher power," Clarke murmured, her voice a far cry from the shakey gasps it had been a few moments ago. A certain steadiness and clarity that came only with concrete facts anchored her words.
"Me neither, but maybe we should start going to church?" Bellamy said, half joking.
"Hmm," Clarke scoffed, "I wouldn't go that far. If God was real, He wouldn't have gotten me into this mess in the first place."
"You're probably right," he murmured into her hair, which was still pressed into his chest. He thought about his beliefs, which was something he hadn't done in quite some time, not since he used to kneel beside his bed and pray in the lamplight when he was a child. He believed in a God, maybe not the God, but he knew there was something out there, someone who looked out for the world, because there were just too many unexplainable instances to deny the existence of a deity. The number of times Bellamy had stepped foot inside of a church though, Catholic or otherwise, could be counted on one hand. There was one place he considered holy, and it was miles away from any parish hall or synagog.
He felt Clarke's shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath and her small fingers unclenched from his forearm. He released her after a second and she stepped away, picking up each of the tests in turn, verifying that they were all indeed negative.
She traced a finger along the smooth white plastic, marvelling at it. It made Bellamy wonder, if one day, the result on the test would be the opposite, positive, and Clarke's reaction would be the same. Some day when she was happily married and financially stable and emotionally ready for a baby, would she look back and think about what could have been?
Clarke turned around and smiled widely at Bellamy, looking carefree in a way he had only seen glimpses of, at the football game and when she was baking.
"Thank you, Bellamy Alexander Blake, for doing this for me," she said.
"Hey, it was all you. I was just here for moral support."
She rolled her eyes and chuckled softly, shaking her head so her golden curls swayed around her face.
Just then, a knock sounded from the outside door and it cracked open.
"Can I come in?" Raven questioned uncertainty, poking her nose through the crack.
"Uh, yeah, just a sec," Clarke flashed an alarmed look at Bellamy, who grabbed the bathroom trash can and swiped all of the pregnancy test paraphernalia into the bin, stuffing it beside the sink as Raven stepped inside.
She looked curiously at the two of them before asking Clarke, "You feeling okay? You seemed pretty upset earlier."
"Uh, yeah. I had an upset stomach… you know how I had that one night? I just didn't want to make a scene again." Clarke rubbed her hand up and down her arm as she lied smoothly to her roommate.
Raven nodded. "You think you better go to the clinic or something? Maybe you've got like, low white count or something?"
"No," Clarke smiled a bit. "I'm fine. And symptoms of low white blood cell count are fever and chills and swelling."
"Hmphf. I just heard that one of those doctor shows one time. Thought it would make me sound smart." Raven smirked as she walked over to her bed.
"You are smart, Raven."
"Yeah yeah. I'll leave the medical stuff to you, though."
"Sounds like a plan." Clarke nodded.
"Glad you're feeling better though," she trailed off. "Have you seen my chapstick?"
Bellamy tried to make himself scarce as Clarke rummaged through her nightstand and chatted with Raven. She seemed like she was doing just fine, but he could see the pink cardboard edge of one of the boxes. When both girls had their backs turned, he ducked into the bathroom and shook the bin, then unspooled several squares of toilet paper and arranged them on top of the garbage, hiding it's contents.
Satisfied, he slid into Clarke's desk chair inconspicuously, feeling a little bit like a poorly trained undercover spy.
"Ah hah!" Raven cried triumphantly, tugging her arm out from where it was wedged behind Clarke's bed, proudly holding up the little yellow tube of chapstick. "Reyes with the find of the day." She took a bow as she hopped off Clarke's bed.
"What are the odds I'm going to get my dorm back anytime soon?" Bellamy asked, planning his escape.
"Uh, maybe by this afternoon? Murphy is dead, I'm pretty sure. I kicked him and he didn't even move. Your sister was awake, but she just stumbled into the bathroom and fell back asleep."
"Great," Bellamy groaned before heaving himself out of the chair. His own night of inebriation was catching up to him now that his panic about Clarke had subsided. His head pounded despite Clarke's ibuprofen, and he felt like he could sleep until it was dark out if given the chance.
"I can help you get rid of them!" Raven said eagerly, turning to pull a contraption from her drawer.
"The hell is that?"
"It's an airhorn, of sorts," Raven said, flipping a small loop of wire over a silver canister mounted on a black handle.
"Of sorts?" Clarke questioned.
Raven shrugged before grinning mischievously. Clarke shared a look with Bellamy as Raven started winding a small crank on the side of the crude device.
"That's something I would have expected from Jasper and Monty. I thought you were more sophisticated than that."
Raven chuckled. "Trust me Blake, this is about as sophisticated as it gets."
"You know, I think I'll pass, but thanks for the offer."
Raven frowned before tossing the contraption back in the drawer. "Your loss."
"Another time."
"Deal."
Clarke yawned loudly, apologizing when Bellamy raised a brow at her.
"Why don't you take a nap? I've got some errands to run before I kick the sleeping beauties out of my dorm."
"Yeah I think I-" Clarke's sentence was fractured by another wide yawn. "Good idea," she murmured sheepishly, tugging back the rumpled covers of her bed.
"See you later," Bellamy said, making for the door.
"Sure," Clarke called back, already sounding half asleep.
"Hey, let me know if you need any help!" Raven yelled enthusiastically as Bellamy shut the door. He had to admit he was a bit curious about Raven's air horn, but today wasn't the day for any more surprises.
Bellamy quietly let himself into his dorm, wanting to take a shower and change clothes, but that idea was immediately thwarted by the sight of Octavia half in half out of the bathroom, snoring on the floor. Bellamy knew that the alcohol was going to hit her hard and had a bit of an I told you so moment.
Harper was tucked up the corner of the spare mattress, nursing a water bottle as she absently watched The Match Game on mute. The TV cast flickering blue light over Miller and Murphy, looking exactly as they had when Bellamy left an hour ago.
"Hi Bellamy," Harper said groggily, nodding at him.
"Hey," he replied. Stepping over his sister, he looked in on Jasper and Monty, both dead to the world in their beds. With a resigned sigh, he heaved Octavia up from the floor, sidestepped Miller's outhrown arm, and settled his sister into his bed, which was crumpled in the shape of a person.
Octavia groaned and curled in on herself. Bellamy prayed she wouldn't vomit on his only set of sheets as he fished out a clean t-shirt from his drawer. He settled for washing his face and brushing his teeth instead of a full on shower. He tossed his dirty tee into the corner of the bathroom and grazed a hand over the stubble on his chin. He had the 5 o'clock shadow look down, and it didn't look half bad in his opinion.
"Keep an eye on the place, alright?" He asked Harper, who only nodded, watching as Gene Rayburn laughed on screen in the foolish seventies game show.
The Match Game was a bit of a nostalgic flashback for Bellamy, because reruns of the show were one of the things that played on the free channels of the television. He used to guess the answers along with Betty White and Richard Dawson, even if he didn't understand half of the questions.
The day had gotten him feeling all kinds of ways about his past. Clarke's situation hit too close to home with the things surrounding him and Octavia when they were children, and as much as Bellamy tried not to think about it, it was hard.
He found himself walking down the sidewalk, retracing the route to CVS as he listened to the sound of traffic and church bells chiming in the distance. It was Sunday morning after all.
Bellamy's route led him directly past St. Lawrence Catholic Church, and he paused outside of the building. People dressed in their Sunday best made their way up the steps, talking amongst themselves, and no one seemed to notice him as he stood and stared at the ornate brick building. He had no draw to enter and attend the service, but the irony of the coincidence was not lost on him.
For a long time, he stood and stared at the church, not thinking about much, but feeling everything. He watched a family with three little children rush up the steps ten minutes after the service had started, the mother rushing two little boys in button down shirts towards the door, while her husband followed, holding a little girl in a pink dress on his hip. He held open the heavy wooden door for his sons, then kissed his wife on the cheek and took her hand as they entered the sanctuary.
Bellamy warmed at the scene, hooking his thumbs in his pockets before finally walking on. A block later, he had to wait for traffic to cross the street, and admired a patch of purple flowers growing around a street pole. He reached out a hand and ran his thumb along the silky pedals and found himself picturing Clarke with one of the blooms tucked behind her ear, a beautiful contrast to her fair skin and blond hair. He considered bringing a few back for her, but he doubted she would have a vase or even a cup to put them in. And then her roommates would question where they came from, and she wouldn't want to lie, then Octavia would probably get pissed for some stupid reason and Raven would tease Clarke. So, perhaps not.
Instead, he snapped a quick picture of the flowers, but didn't get the chance to send it to Clarke before the traffic light switched and Bellamy jogged across the road.
He entered the CVS for the second time that morning as an idea formed for a gift that was more practical than flowers, and had an air of humor that Clarke was sure to appreciate. He strolled casually through the aisles, feeling rather superior to most men in the fact that he didn't get embarrassed in the women's hygiene aisle. Maybe it was due to growing up with a little sister, or maybe it was because Bellamy was simply more practical and level-headed than most men. He liked to think it was the later, even if it probably was due to Octavia.
He picked out a box and came to the counter, snagging a pack of gum from the rack by the register as well.
"Back again?" The cashier said brightly, smiling at Bellamy.
He nodded and set the tampons and gum on the counter. "Yep."
Joy took notice of his purchases and turned her wrinkle-lined face to him. "Seems like your tests were negative?"
For some reason, Joy's intrusive comment didn't rub Bellamy the wrong way. "Yeah, they were," he confirmed.
"Well, congratulations then. I'm not sure what someone is supposed to say when you're not pregnant, but I got the impression that's what you were hoping for?" Joy rang up the items.
"Yeah. It just wasn't- the right time, or best situation."
Joy nodded, taking Bellamy's money. "Well, for what's it worth, I know you would have made the best of it, sweetie."
"Thanks. I certainly would have tried to."
"Goody! There are not enough decent men in the world these days. Half of 'em would have run for the hills at the very thought of a baby," Joy clucked her tongue. "Thanks for tipping the scale in the right direction."
Bellamy chuckled. "That's high praise."
"Well, you know what they say, praise is more powerful than prayer."
"Hmm, haven't heard that one."
Joy handed him the plastic bag. "It's an old one, can't tell you what it's from though. I had a great aunt that used to say it."
"Huh."
"Well anyway. I won't keep you. Go on back to your girl. And stay out of trouble!" Joy shooed him from the register.
"Will do. Good day, ma'am," Bellamy smiled at her, loving the sound of 'your girl'. He supposed it did seem like he and Clarke were a couple, but she had only been clinging to his hand for comfort and support, and he had only been letting her because she needed him.
AN_
I hope that was the outcome that everyone was hoping for! I just didn't have the heart to make poor Clarke pregnant. Although I thoroughly entertained the idea of pregnant Clarke, I realized that that hadn't been my intention when starting HFY, and it just simply wasn't the story I wanted to write.
Thank you all so much for the reviews! As I am posting this, we are sitting at 98, which is just so beyond incredible. I have a feeling we might break the 100 (no pun intended) mark this chapter, so thank you in advance, both to my new readers and to my faithful reviewers who have been here since the start.
Huge thank you, my lovely beta, kyliEisMC2 for, well, beta-ing. :)
Thanks for reading,
-Birch66724