AN: Some more Octavia in Dublin and then onto Edinburg and Glasgow – both amazing cities!

I don't own anything relating to The 100

Chapter title from "Bailando" by Enrique Iglesias (directly translated it's basically 'beer and tequila and your mouth on mine')

See the end of the chapter for warnings

27

La Cerveza y el Tequila y Tu Boca Con la Mía

Clarke really does try to keep her alcoholic intake to a minimum during their pub crawl, but by midnight, she's come to the conclusion that Octavia is some sort of booze wizard. Every time she puts down an empty bottle or glass, another full one appears in her hand, and the other woman's enthusiastic babbling and insistence on dancing to every other song has some sort of almost hypnotic effect on Clarke where she keeps drinking without even really noticing.

"Was she always so…" she half asks as she slumps down next to Bellamy in a booth, tripping over the words a little and waving her hand in Octavia's general direction – to her extreme relief, Lincoln stepped in a moment ago and pulled Octavia to the dance floor for a slow song.

"So… what?" Bellamy asks, and she turns her head and squints at him, realizing that he's probably just as drunk as she is, if the way he's swaying slightly, even sitting down, is any indication.

"So… enthi… enthust… en-thu-si-as-tic," she enunciates slowly. She's almost sure she gets it right.

"Yes," he confirms. "But I think it's exax… worse with alcohol."

"Mmmm," she hums, leaning her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes. "I was not going to drink this much."

She feels his hand sneak around her waist to pull her closer. "Me too."

The music in the bar isn't too loud – Clarke strongly suspects that the 'dance floor' she and Octavia have been occupying on and off for the last hour or so is in fact not meant for that specific activity – and they're in the corner furthest from the sound system, so it's actually pretty nice and quiet here.

"Hey, no sleeping!"

Clarke jerks up at Octavia's voice, blinking confusedly. "I wasn't."

"Could have fooled me," the other woman smirks, sliding into the booth on the other side of the table. "I want to do some real dancing, let's get out of here."

Bellamy groans. "We just want to go home and sleep," he tells her.

"Oh please." She tuts disapprovingly. "It's not even late yet. You're getting old, big brother."

"Yup, that's it," he agrees. "You hit thirty and it's all downhill from there."

Octavia rolls her eyes before focusing on Clarke. "So what's your excuse?"

On a logical level Clarke knows that she's not supposed to tell Octavia that she is in fact over a century older than Bellamy. She really wants to, though, if it would get her out of going dancing.

"Out of practice," she says instead, which is kind of true. "I don't party much."

Lincoln joins them at that moment, having apparently gotten everyone's coats from the coat check. Clarke accepts hers and follows the others out of the pub, hoping against hope that they can convince Octavia to call it a night on the way to wherever she wants to go now.

"OK, how about if I promise no more drinking?" the younger Blake suggests as they set off along the street. "But there's this great club on the way home, can we just stop by there for, like, an hour? I promise I'll have you tucked into bed by two, in plenty of time before you turn into pumpkins."

"It was the carriage that turned into a pumpkin, O," Bellamy corrects her, nitpicking despite his level of intoxication. "And it was midnight, not two in the morning."

Octavia elbows him in the side. "Whatever. Come on, please." She drags the last word out, giving all of them puppy eyes.

Maybe she just has a soft spot for Blakes in general, but Clarke finds herself sighing and agreeing.

The cold night air has a rousing effect on all of them, and by the time they reach the club, they've all sobered up a little.

To her surprise, Clarke actually finds herself having a good time. She and Bellamy haven't really gone out much, the closest probably being the New Year's party at his and Miller's place, and even then, they didn't really dance much.

It's kind of exciting to feel him behind her on the dance floor, his hands on her hips, the heat from his body making her skin tingle. They move together to the beat of music she's unfamiliar with, the bass making her heart pound in her chest. Or maybe that's just Bellamy's fingers on her skin, pushing her hair back so he can place a kiss at the base of her throat. She lets a hand slide into his hair, holding him to her, and he wraps an arm around her waist to pull her flush against his chest.

Time moves strangely under the pulsing light, and she's not sure how long they keep dancing like that. The beat changes, again and again, though always the same pounding bass.

After a while, she catches the eye of a tall, skinny brunette at the bar a few feet away, who's giving them an evaluating look. She's not sure who the woman is looking at – herself or Bellamy – but it doesn't matter. She turns around so she can wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down for a kiss that's probably just a bit too dirty in public, but he happily returns it, his hands sliding down her back to her butt to press her closer to him.

"OK, let's keep things PG here, alright?" Octavia's voice comes from next to Clarke, making them pull apart. She can't help the pout on her face, and Octavia laughs. "Maybe it's time to call it a night."

Clarke's not really drunk anymore, but she still stumbles when they get out onto the sidewalk, and Bellamy quickly steadies her. "You OK there, Princess?" he murmurs in her ear, which really does nothing for her balance.

"Fine," she tells him anyway, sliding a hand around his waist to hook her thumb in one of the hoops on his jeans. Not a huge amount of support, but better than nothing.

He chuckles lowly and mirrors her, slipping his hand under her jacket to rest against her hip. There are three layers of material between his thumb, which starts tracing patterns against her dress, and her skin, but somehow, she can still feel his warm touch right down to her bones.

Maybe it's because they haven't actually had sex since they got here – Bellamy's gotten her off a couple of times, but he has some sort of hang-up about having sex with his sister nearby – but by the time they finally make it back to Octavia and Lincoln's apartment, Clarke's more turned on than she's been in a long time. Judging by the dark look Bellamy gives her after he helps her off with her jacket and she innocently leans back against him to get her boots off without falling over, he's on the same page and she's almost positive his resolve has already cracked.

"Right, we're off to bed, night," Octavia mumbles through a yawn. Lincoln offers them a smile before leading her in the direction of their bedroom.

Clarke feels Bellamy's hand close around her wrist and willingly follows him in the other direction towards the guest room.

She barely has time to react after he's closed the door behind them, before he pushes her up against the wall and covers her lips with his.

She moans into the kiss and he immediately deepens it, his hands sliding up her thighs to push her dress up.

"You know how hot you look tonight, Princess?" he murmurs in her ear before kissing his way down her throat.

"Why don't you show me?" she retorts with a hint of a dare in her voice, and he pulls away to give her a look with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah?" He lifts her up so she can wrap her legs around him before grinding his hips against hers, making it more than obvious that he's already hard under his jeans. "You mean like that?"

She doesn't respond, just pulls him in for another kiss.

It's heated but sloppy, both of them still slightly buzzed from the alcohol, and when Bellamy pushes the straps of her dress down her arms, so it ends up in a sort of roll around her waist, they both start giggling.

Once she's stopped laughing, Clarke pushes against his chest to get him to let her down, and he reluctantly takes a step back to let her slide down onto the floor. He brightens when she quickly steps out of the dress, though, and by the time she's stripped off her tights, he's already down to his own underwear.

His eyes rake over her for a long moment before he hooks a finger in the waistband of her panties and pulls her closer.

She comes willingly, following him as he backs towards the bed slowly and climbing into his lap when he sits down on the edge.

"You do know Octavia's still down the hall," she points out when she feels his hand on the clasp of her bra. Maybe she should just go with it, but A) she doesn't want him to remember in a few minutes and stop right when she's ready to combust and B) he was pretty adamant about it a few days ago and she doesn't want him to freak out about it in the morning.

"I know," Bellamy assures her, leaning down to place a kiss just above her nipple once her bra's out of the way. "But you're right, she's all the way on the other side of the apartment. Plus, she's an adult, and she probably already thinks we're having sex in here, so why not?"

Clarke laughs at that, a bit more high pitched than normally, trailing off into a gasp when his mouth closes around her nipple and his hand slips into her panties to slide along her slit. "You couldn't have figured that out sooner?"

He chuckles against her breast before letting his teeth graze her nipple and pushing one finger inside her. "Better late than never… also, I might be just a tiny bit drunk."

"Oh yeah?" She makes a conscious effort to focus, despite the delicious feeling of his finger inside her. "Then maybe I shouldn't take advantage of you in your vulnerable state."

She almost objects when his mouth abandons her breast and his finger slips out of her, but then she's flat on her back and he's kneeling above her, pushing her panties down her hips.

"Not that drunk, Princess," he assures her as he settles between her legs, the head of his dick just barely brushing her curls.

"If you're sure," she says, arching her hips against him. "As long as you're not about to back out, because if you do, I will kill you."

He lets out a huff of a laugh at that before leaning down to kiss her. A moment later, she feels his hand slide down her side and across her hip and then he's slowly inching inside her, and really, nobody can blame her if all rational thought flies out the window after that.

Still, when her orgasm washes over her some time later, she does bite her lip to keep from alerting their hosts to their activity.

It's only polite.

-100-

To Clarke's surprise, she wakes up of her own accord the next day. The blinds are closed, but the faint light that still makes it into the room tells her it must be pretty late in the morning.

She rolls over to find Bellamy's side of the bed empty and a glass of water along with some painkillers on the bedside table. Her head is pounding a little, so she swallows them down and drains the glass before getting out of bed and pulling on some clothes.

She finds her purse on the dresser and checks her phone before leaving the room. 10:23.

The apartment almost seems empty when she opens the door, no sound alerting her to where the others might be. A few steps down the hallway, though, low voices from the kitchen reach her and she heads in that direction.

"Morning," she greets from the doorway, and two Blake heads snap up at the sound.

Octavia's leaning against the kitchen counter, facing the door and looking much too chipper considering how much she had to drink last night. Bellamy's back is to Clarke, but she can tell that he tenses a little at her voice.

"Morning," Octavia replies with a dazzling smile. "Did you sleep OK?"

Clarke keeps her eyes on Bellamy, though, who shifts a little before turning to face her, an almost natural smile on his face. "Morning, Princess."

"Morning," she replies, convinced that she must have interrupted some sort of private conversation. "And I slept fine, thank you."

"Not too hung over?" Octavia asks, turning to the oven and pushing a couple of buttons. "Lincoln made his famous hangover breakfast before he left, we were just waiting for you to get up."

"A bit of a headache but nothing too bad," Clarke tells her. "But food sounds good."

"I'll be right back," Bellamy says, moving towards her. "Bathroom."

He presses a kiss to her temple as he passes her and then he's gone. Clarke frowns as she focuses on Octavia again. "Is everything OK?" she asks.

Octavia looks up at her with a confused expression that only looks a little fake. "Of course, why wouldn't it be?"

Clarke shrugs. "I kind of feel like I just interrupted something."

"No, you didn't," the younger Blake assures her. "We were just talking, you know, taking a trip down memory lane… Bell got a little emotional, I think he just needed a moment."

That could be it, she supposes… "OK. Can I help you with anything?"

"Nope," Octavia says, popping the P. "This just needs to be heated up for ten minutes or so and we'll be good to go. Sit."

So she does, watching Octavia set the table. When Bellamy returns a few minutes later, he looks completely normal and joins her at the table while his sister grabs juice and some other stuff from the fridge.

Lincoln's hangover breakfast turns out to be pancakes, bacon and French toast, and Clarke eats until she can't get another bite down.

Luckily, they don't have anything booked in today – maybe because Octavia was planning last night's pub crawl all along – so they just lounge around, watching a QI marathon until Lincoln gets home mid-afternoon, at which point they order pizza and watch some more TV.

Monday is another beautiful, sunny day, in stark contrast to Bellamy's mood. He tries not to show it too much, but Clarke knows him by now and can tell that he's not looking forward to leaving his sister. Maybe she should have planned for a longer stay, but then that might have been even worse.

"You OK?" she asks as they pack the last things before heading to the airport.

He sighs. "Yeah. I just… I want more time with her."

"We don't have to leave yet," she tells him, squeezing his hand. "Edinburgh and Glasgow were my things, we can stay here for another week and then fly straight to London, if you want."

He immediately shakes his head. "No. I want to go, I want to see those places too. I'm just…"

"I know," she assures him when he trails off.

He nods once, zipping his backpack and standing up straight. "Right, let's get going before I change my mind."

The drive to the airport is mostly silent, Octavia probably picking up on Bellamy's mood too. She parks the car and goes with them into the terminal, waiting while they check in and drop their bags off and then following them to security.

They stop a little to the side, out of the way, and Bellamy pulls his sister into a tight hug that she returns just as fiercely. Clarke tries not to eavesdrop, but she's right there so she can't really help it.

"Love you, O. I'm so proud of you, you've grown into an amazing woman, OK? I just want you to know that."

Octavia chuckles a little, but the sound is slightly watery. "This isn't goodbye, big brother," she assures him. "You're both welcome back whenever you want. Besides, I haven't been back in the States in years, and don't even get me started on New York… maybe it's time to make the trip."

"I'd like that."

They cling to each other for another few minutes, before Octavia finally pulls away and pulls Clarke into a hug as well.

"It's been so wonderful getting to know you," Octavia says quietly. "Thank you for… everything, really."

"I've enjoyed getting to know you too," Clarke replies. "And thank you."

Octavia's arms tighten around her for a moment before she pulls away. "Take care of him, OK?"

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, O," Bellamy complains, but Clarke just nods, a silent understanding passing between her and Octavia.

"OK, I'm going to go before I really do start crying," Octavia announces. "Have a safe flight and enjoy… everything you're doing. I've already friended Clarke on Facebook, so I expect daily updates with fabulous photos, OK?"

Clarke laughs and tells her that they'll do their best, and then she's gone.

Bellamy doesn't move for a long moment, staring after his sister until she must have left the airport area altogether.

"Come on," Clarke finally says, interlacing their fingers and pulling him along towards the queue to security.

He's quiet as they wait, as they place their bags and things into the trays, as they go through the scanners… once they're at their gate, with half an hour until boarding, he clears his throat.

"Can you promise me something?" he asks, voice earnest. Clarke hesitates, not knowing what he might say and not wanting to promise something she won't be able or willing to do. "It's nothing bad," he continues when he sees her frown, reading her mind.

"OK."

"Just… will you keep an eye on her?" he says. "When I'm… will you make sure she's doing OK?"

It's not a hard promise, since she's already made it to herself before he even brought it up. "Of course."

Bellamy reaches out to take her hand in his. "Thank you."

"You know…" she starts, moving a little so she can lean her head against his shoulder. "You could see her again. I mean, she seemed open to coming to New York and I'm sure she gets some vacation time in the summer, we could see if they want to spend a couple of days in the city when we get back."

She knows they've already discussed Octavia not being there when the time comes, but her being in New York should be fine.

"Yeah, maybe," he agrees, eyes shifting to the floor and brow furrowing, as if he's thinking hard about something. Clarke just squeezes his hand again and lets him be.

-100-

Edinburgh is much as Clarke remembers from the last time she was here. Which isn't odd, since that was just a couple of years ago during a visit to Wells and Sasha. That's the downside of living as long as she has, she supposes – things get jumbled in her mind sometimes.

Bellamy was mostly quiet during the short flight, eyes trained on the window beside him, but as they get closer to the city center, his mood seems to lift.

"I can see why you like this place," he notes when the cab has dropped them off at the hotel on Castle Street. He turns in a slow circle, taking in the buildings lining the street, most of them in the distinct sandstone of the area, turned greyish with time and wear, and finally the castle on its hill in the distance. "If it weren't for the cars it would almost be like stepping back in time."

"Wait until you see the Royal Mile," she tells him with a smile.

It's already darkening out when they've checked in and dropped their bags off in their room, so they decide that checking out the area around the hotel and getting something to eat will have to do for now.

The next two days are spent exploring Edinburgh. Showing Bellamy her favorite spots gives Clarke a new view of the city and makes her fall in love with it all over again, through his eyes.

"This is so cool," he breathes in her ear when they follow their guide around tight corners in Mary King's Close, a small alleyway under new buildings along the Royal Mile that has been preserved as a historical site.

"It really is," she agrees, just as fascinated as him – she's heard about this place but never visited it before.

Another high-point is the castle, with all its exhibitions, artefacts and rooms. After the visit, they wander up the Royal Mile to Holyrood Abbey at the other end of the long street, admiring the numerous old buildings and churches along the way.

On Thursday, they pick up their rental car early in the morning and set off out into the Scottish countryside, having decided a little last minute the night before to take a really long detour passing Loch Ness on their way to Glasgow.

"Come on, what if it's in the paper tomorrow that someone finally spotted the Loch Ness monster," was Bellamy's argument. "You'll be sorry we didn't go then."

"You know that's not going to happen, right?" Clarke replied, rolling her eyes.

He just shrugged. "I'd still like to see it."

She squeezed his hand. "That's all you had to say."

So around noon, Clarke turns into the parking area at Urquhart Castle. The day is cold and while it did snow at one point during the drive, the ground here is bare. They decide not to go into the castle itself, instead wandering around the area and down to the water.

"See?" Clarke says, kicking at a stone. "No monster."

"And what do you call that?" Bellamy replies.

She looks where he's pointing and snorts. "That's a log."

"OK, fine… what about that?"

She looks again before giving him a questioning look. "You mean the duck?"

He pokes her in the ribs and she takes a step to the side to get out of his reach. "If you want to have absolutely no imagination, I guess."

They grab some lunch at the visitor's center, and then take the slightly longer route from the lake, to avoid going back the way they came and take the opportunity to see some more of the striking Scottish landscape. They're technically in the Highlands, and all around them, heaths, lochs and hills stretch in all directions. Even now, in winter, with little to no vegetation, it's an impressive sight.

The first twenty miles or so, the road follows Loch Ness and Bellamy entertains himself – and Clarke – by claiming to spot Nessie every couple of minutes, describing everything from a boat to some large birds bobbing on the water. When they leave the loch behind, he switches to trying to pronounce all the towns they pass as badly as possible, and by the time they get to Druimarben, she has some trouble focusing on the road because she's laughing so hard.

It's after six when they finally reach Glasgow, and Clarke just collapses face first on the bed when they get to their room, not even bothering to check out the view over a lit up George Square.

"Tired?" Bellamy asks, and she hears him move around the room before the door to the bathroom opens and closes.

"Mmm," she hums affirmatively. "Don't know why driving is so mentally draining."

The bed dips when he sits down next to her and he slides a hand into her hair, rubbing her scalp. "You should have said something, I could have taken over for a while."

She makes an effort to roll over onto her back without dislodging his hand and looks up at him. "On the wrong side of the road and the car?"

"I'm sure I can figure it out," he replies with a shrug. "How long is the drive to London, like seven hours? Let me do some of the driving for that one."

She considers it for a moment. Most of the time they'll be on the M6, and the rental's an automatic, so it should be fine. "OK, if you feel up for it you can drive for a while. It's mostly highway, so no oncoming traffic. We'll just pull over at a rest stop or something and switch."

His fingers slide out of her hair to push a few strands out of her face instead and she leans into the touch. "Good. Now, how about we go grab some dinner and then call it a night? Keeping an eye out for Nessie was surprisingly tiresome too."

Clarke can't help but laugh at that and pushes herself to her feet.

They end up at an Italian restaurant just across the square, and somehow, she gets some energy back from the delicious Calabrian chicken, so they stroll around a little on the way back to the hotel, checking out the square and the streets around it a little more.

Friday morning, they take their time in the on-site restaurant, really enjoying the delicious Scottish breakfast, before they leave the hotel for a day on the town. The weather's not exactly ideal for sightseeing, the sky cloudy and threatening rain, even if it's not raining now, but they still decide to set out for their first stop, the cathedral, on foot.

The church itself doesn't take too long to explore, but they continue to the museum next door and then stroll around the Necropolis, the old cemetery, behind the cathedral, for a couple of hours. Apart from the fascinating old tombstones – yes, Clarke likes visiting old graveyards and reading names and dates, she knows it's a little weird – the spot offers an amazing view of the city below.

When their stomachs start rumbling, they head off back towards the city center for some lunch and a bit more exploring in daylight.

Saturday is still rainy, and after breakfast they take an Uber to the Kelvingrove Museum. It's a fascinating place that Clarke has been to a couple of times before, but she's always just as amazed by the many exhibitions. Bellamy's eyes widen as soon as they step into the entrance hall and she can't help but smile – there's so much more to see.

"Come on," she says, tugging him along into the first exhibition hall.

It would probably take days to look at every single item in the museum, which they don't have, but they spend a good four hours slowly advancing through the grand halls, up and down the stairs, through door after door.

"I've never seen anything like this," Bellamy says when they finally leave, to find that the rain has let up, even if the skies are still a steely grey.

"Yeah, it's definitely one of my favorite museums," she agrees. "Do you want to head back to the hotel, or are you up for a bit of a walk?"

He happily agrees to a walk, so they set out through the park surrounding the museum, taking a detour before they reach the other end, up a path and some stairs that lead them to the University of Glasgow. The late nineteenth century building could be taken from one of the Harry Potter movies, in Clarke's opinion – all towers and pinnacles, leaded windows and parapets.

"So did you enjoy my little detour?" she asks when they're in bed later that night, both on their backs still catching their breaths from their previous activities.

"Of course," Bellamy assures her. "If I had known there were so many amazing historical places here, I would have put it on the list myself."

She rolls onto her side so she can cuddle up to him and his arm goes around her waist. "Good, I'm glad."

Chapter warnings: explicit sexual content