a/n It's great to see that there are still people out there reading and engaging with multi chapter fics in this fandom! I really appreciate every word of encouragement! Huge thanks to Stormkpr for betaing this and happy reading!
Bellamy is not surprised when, on arriving at breakfast the next morning, he and Clarke are informed that their presence will be required in the President's office as soon as they have finished eating. He tries to style it out as a cocky young man in love might – he squeezes Clarke in a reassuring hug, promises loudly and for the benefit of the guards that he will take all responsibility for the incident, and then kisses her until they go away.
Right. Now that's settled, and now he's had a good snog, he supposes it's time for baked beans.
He's rather more surprised when they arrive at the President's office and find that they don't seem to be in a great deal of trouble. President Wallace looks jovial, almost indulgent. He's smiling, in fact, but it's an expression which looks somewhat out of place and almost frightening on his face.
Bellamy begins with his best impression of a naïve and lovestruck youth. "Mr Wallace, sir, I can explain -"
"Bellamy, please. No need to explain. I believe we all understand what's happening here. Remind me how old you are, my boy? Twenty-three? I was quite the same at your age."
Well, now. There's a thought that makes Bellamy feel nauseated.
"We really are sorry for causing trouble, Mr Wallace." Clarke adds contritely.
"I know, I know." President Wallace sighs loudly. "You mustn't pull a stunt like this again, do you hear me? You must understand that you broke the door frame when you forced entry, too. Resources are scarce and precious in Mount Weather."
Bellamy almost laughs at that. This place has an overabundance of antique artwork and ornate furniture. But apparently they are running short on door frames.
"We do understand that, Mr Wallace. It won't happen again."
President Wallace nods. "Yes. Well – quite. I think there's something I can do to help you out with that. As a gesture of goodwill – and so you don't feel the need to go breaking and entering – I would like to offer you two a private apartment."
"A private apartment? Away from our friends?" Bellamy asks, suddenly on edge. Is this a plot to separate them from the others and attach them to the end of that blood supply line?
"You'll be on the same level as the dorm, and you can come and go whenever you wish. But you will accept this gift from me." President Wallace informs them, with just a hint of a threat in his tone. "I cannot be seen to let this situation continue. You will move into your new quarters and you will stop going on these... escapades."
"Thank you, Mr Wallace." Clarke says with a too-sweet little smile. Or at least – Bellamy can see that it's not quite right on her face, but he doesn't suppose the President knows the difference.
"You're very welcome, Clarke. It's a pleasure to be able to welcome your people to Mount Weather. This apartment is just the kind of place a young couple born here might move into at about your age. It feels right to welcome you to our community."
Welcoming them into the community? Huh. Maybe not planning to take their blood imminently then, Bellamy muses. Is there some other destiny being planned for the kids from the sky? He needs to ask Clarke whether she has any thoughts about this.
Maybe he can ask her while they're getting busy in their new bedroom.
"We'd be delighted to accept your gift. Thank you. You've been very generous to our people and we're very grateful. When do we move in?" Bellamy asks, smiling carefully.
"Now." President Wallace says simply. "The guards on the door will show you the way. Get your things this morning and say goodbye to your friends."
Say goodbye to your friends. That sounds ominous. But no – the President is smiling as if he really does mean for them to enjoy this new accommodation, at least for now.
Bellamy and Clarke turn for the door. He makes sure to reach for her as they go, slinging an arm around her shoulders to pull her close. More than ever, he needs to look besotted with her now, he decides. He needs to convince President Wallace and his security services that all of this sneaking around really has only been caused by a burning passion for Clarke.
Thankfully – or perhaps worryingly – acting besotted with Clarke is getting easier by the day.
He bends and whispers in her ear. He's got good at passing off real, meaningful comments as private words of love in recent days.
"We're really going to have to sell this now." He murmurs, following up with a kiss to her cheek, just next to her ear.
She giggles loudly. "You're right. I can't wait to have a room to ourselves. Just think of what we'll get up to in that bed." She says – loud enough for President Wallace to hear, but quiet enough to make it appear that he wasn't supposed to.
Bellamy smirks broadly, then presses another kiss to her lips.
Then they're moving down the hallway, following the guards. Their new room is lovely, it turns out. It's not particularly large or elaborate compared to everything else about this too-clean, too-formal place. But it's quite the most pleasant place Bellamy has ever lived and that thought makes him a little sad. What would it be like to share a soft double bed with cream-coloured sheets with Clarke for real? To live out some kind of picture-perfect life with her? To enjoy the bathroom with a hot shower which never runs dry, the little lounge area in the corner of the bedroom with a small two-seater couch and a tiny television?
As a kid, he's pretty sure he used to dream of growing up and finding love and moving into his own place like this. Or at least, maybe he did until his sister made that dream utterly impossible.
Ouch. He misses his sister, and it hurts every time he thinks of her.
"This is nice. President Wallace is very kind to us." Clarke says brightly.
"It's lovely. Shall we try out the bed?"
"You're to collect your personal items from the dorm first." One of the guards, still standing at the door, informs them firmly.
Right. So they are allowed to visit the dorm freely, once they have settled in here. But they cannot move out of the room they have shared with their friends fast enough. It's an odd paradox, Bellamy thinks – and the ultimate proof that the President likes things done his way round here. That there is always some master plan simmering away beneath the surface which they ought to guard against.
All the same, they play along. They do what grateful and naïve youngsters would do. They head to the dorm and pick up their meagre personal effects. Each of them has a few spare clothes provided by Mount Weather. Clarke has the sketchbook and pencils she was given, too. Bellamy has one precious library book about the Romans.
And then, of course, they say goodbye to their friends.
"We've been given a room of our own. We're very grateful." Bellamy says firmly.
"Can any couple get a room?" Monroe pipes up now.
"We don't know." Clarke says. "Our hosts are being very generous. Maybe if we keep working on fitting into our new life here, they might offer rooms to other couples."
"But we'll still see you, right?" Wells asks, eyes narrowed in concern. "You'll be back to visit?"
"Yes. We'll visit all the time and we'll see you at meals." Bellamy assures him.
"You'll need to keep an eye on the younger ones for us though." Clarke adds, with a pointed look at Wells.
Wells does not misunderstand. He gets it – that he is to take care of everyone as best he can in their absence, and that walking out of here is not Clarke or Bellamy's choice. He gives a firm nod, to Bellamy's relief. "Yeah. Of course. I'll watch out for them."
"I'll help him out." Miller adds, quiet and calm but confident as is his way.
"Me too." Monty adds.
"And me." Harper chimes in.
"So will I." Jasper steps up to join the chorus.
Bellamy nods, a little relieved. He doesn't like splitting up the group like this. But the move is clearly not optional, and there are plenty of people here who will work together to protect the younger kids if it comes to it.
And anyway – it might not come to it. President Wallace really does seem to be talking like they are all friends now. Or has Bellamy been acting naïve so well that he has actually become naïve in truth, these last few days?
His spiral of worry and self-loathing is halted, rather effectively, by Clarke wrapping warm hands around his upper arm and squeezing lightly. He always does feel better when he remembers that she is right by his side.
"Come on. Let's go settle in." She tells him softly.
Yes. Time to settle in – and to learn how to protect their friends from becoming these people's blood supply from a distance.
…...
Clarke is very aware that she and Bellamy are going to have sex when they get to their new bedroom, and she finds that actually, she is not very nervous about it. Why would she be? Yes, sure, it's her first time with this particular partner, and there's a lot of pressure to convince the residents of this bunker that they are in love.
But she trusts Bellamy. He has been nothing but kind and considerate since they started this charade. To be honest, she thinks it's quite likely that she will even enjoy the sex. He's an attractive guy and pretty skilful in bed, by all accounts.
They arrive at the room. Bellamy opens the door with his new keycard. They set their small bags of belongings on the sweet little couch.
Are they going to actually spend time here simply relaxing and chilling out, she wonders? Will they sit on that couch and watch that TV? It would be a shame not to. Yes, she is worried about their people. But she cannot remember the last time she sat on a couch and enjoyed a movie. And right now, she finds that she really wants to try being a normal eighteen-year-old girl. She is craving a calmer life.
No. Now is not the time or the place for movies on the couch.
She turns to Bellamy and kisses him hotly. He gets the idea, kissing her back hard. And as has become their way, he whispers to her between kisses.
"Are you OK? Are we doing this?"
"We're doing this. I trust you."
"Yeah. You, too."
She relaxes a little further. She never thought of it like that – he trusts her, too. Somewhere, amidst this whole charade they have been acting, where she is just an innocent girl who cannot believe her luck landing this older guy, she lost sight of that. But it's true, isn't it? They trust each other. That's what makes them such an incredible team.
With that resolved, she reaches for his shirt and tugs it up over his head. She's finding it pretty easy to get into this, actually, but she's going to need a little more stimulation, a little more bare skin, before she's really relaxed and ready for him.
He removes her shirt in turn, and pauses to murmur in her ear as he goes.
"Do you think there's some sick fuck in a security office watching this?" He asks.
She giggles. She finds that she doesn't hate the idea, actually. Quite the opposite – she's weirdly turned on by the thought of someone watching her and Bellamy get busy.
Well, then. That's something she didn't know about herself this morning.
"Maybe. Let's put on a good show." She murmurs, teasing.
"Your tits make it so easy." He offers, squeezing one breast lightly through her bra.
She thinks that's a compliment, although she's not entirely sure she's understood it. Is he saying her tits are a good show, in and of themselves? Is he saying he likes her tits, and that makes it easy for him to put on a good show? Is he suggesting it's not a hardship to be faking a relationship with her?
Is she thinking about this too hard, and should she just relax and enjoy the ride?
She does her best to switch her brain off for a little while and simply focus on the sensations. She does enjoy the physical side of her fake relationship with Bellamy, and she figures she should make the most of that while it lasts. She keeps kissing him, trailing her hands over his body, as they remove the rest of their clothes.
At last, they are both naked. Clarke feels like this ought to be a bigger moment, somehow. Bellamy has a rather lovely cock – large but not off-puttingly so, a rich brown colour, dusted with freckles. And she thinks the texture of it looks inviting, too, but she hasn't dared to touch it yet. She figures that boldly reaching out to grab his cock is probably not consistent with the naïve, giggly personality she has adopted lately.
He helps her out. He reaches for her hand, squeezes her fingers lightly, then guides her to his cock.
"You ready for that?" He asks.
She nods. "Yeah. Definitely. Want you to fill me up."
He gasps a little at that. "Yeah?"
She nods urgently. He reaches for her, spins her a little in his arms so he can get a hand between her legs and check how she's doing.
"You are ready for me. Good girl, Clarke."
She's pretty sure she'd find that patronising, in any other context. But here and now, in this moment, she simply glows at his praise.
He leads her to the bed. She clings to him as they go, staying as close by his side as she can while they move. Then he's pushing her gently down onto the mattress, so she takes his hint and lies back, legs spread wide. Bellamy hovers over her, the head of his cock nudging urgently at her.
And then, just as she thinks he's about to slip inside, he goes still. He ducks his head to whisper to her instead.
"Don't fake it. Just – tell me if you need me to help you along. I know this whole relationship is fake but please promise me you won't ever fake an orgasm."
She almost laughs. It's such a silly thing for him to be worrying about, she thinks at first. Is his ego so fragile that he draws the line at having a woman pretend to get off during sex with him?
But then she thinks about it a little deeper. It's more complicated than that for Bellamy, isn't it? She was there when they first landed. She saw him take partner after partner to his tent, as if his very sanity depended on screwing his way around the entire camp.
Maybe it did. Maybe his attitude towards sex is more complicated and dysfunctional than she realised.
"I won't. We'll be fine. If we're going to put on this act we might as well enjoy some good sex along the way." She whispers lightly.
He chuckles softly, kisses her soundly, and then gets to work. He slips inside easily and starts moving his hips, building up a steady rhythm.
It's a little too steady, honestly. He's treating her as if she's breakable. And Clarke really meant it when she said she wanted to enjoy this along the way.
"Faster." She mutters, holding him tight. "You can go harder."
"Yeah? You need anything else?"
"No. That's good. Just – more." She tells him, abandoning all attempt at subtlety.
He seems to get the hang of it, then. He realises she's not saying that for the fun of it, perhaps, and that she really does mean it. He stops treating her quite so tentatively, starts really getting stuck in. He's still being kind and considerate, yes, but less apologetic. That's progress, she decides. He doesn't need to apologise for this situation they have found themselves in every minute of every day – and certainly not when she is enjoying this positive side effect.
She does her best to relax and enjoy the ride. It's easily done, actually. It's a long time since she slept with anyone, and now the moment is presenting itself she finds that she's pretty wound up. And she's not thinking about how her last sexual encounter was with Finn, and the mess that led to, because she trusts Bellamy too much to worry about a thing like that.
"You good?" He gasps out, breathless.
"Yeah. Close. You?"
He frowns a moment, spoiling the kiss. She does her best to kiss a smile back onto his face.
"Kind of close?" He asks rather than states, as if he's not quite sure this is going to plan.
She strokes a hand over his back and hugs him a little tighter. "That's fine. Our first time. Relax." She recommends shortly.
He's trying – she can feel it. He's trying to bury himself in the kiss, trying to block out the world around them as he loses himself in her. Evidently he's still somewhat tense, and she finds that interesting. There's definitely something going on with him, between the way he begged her not to fake an orgasm, and the way he's on edge now. She's beginning to suspect he doesn't have a particularly healthy relationship with his own sexuality, that there is more to him than threesomes and a queue of girls outside his tent.
Ah well. She can only solve one problem at a time. And however much she might care about Bellamy, and want to help him fight his demons, she thinks she'll worry about the source of all the blood transfusions before she starts work on the state of his head.
Or maybe, if she's really lucky, and if they keep helping each other out, she might manage to do something about that along the way.
Yet again, she makes the effort to clear her mind and concentrate on pleasure. It really is tough, to live in the moment and enjoy sex amidst such complicated and stressful circumstances. But Bellamy is making it easier for her, now, as he starts teasing her breasts with curious hands.
She's very close, now. Close enough that she expects to fall any minute, despite the stress and tension. Close enough that she just wants to wrap her arms around Bellamy as tight as she can, so that she's holding him when she comes.
She's there. She's falling apart, clenching around him, eyelids flickering as she comes hard.
Bellamy moans, but he keeps moving. "I'm sorry. Not there yet." He huffs out, frustrated.
Hmm. She wonders about pointing out that it's not a race, or perhaps that sex is supposed to be about the journey rather than the end goal.
No. This is not the time for such big, sweeping statements. This is the time for holding him close and helping him to feel as comfortable as possible in this beautiful, uncomfortable new bedroom of theirs.
"You're OK. That felt really good." She whispers into his ear – a comment for them, not for the security team.
"Thanks."
"I mean it. You're doing great at all this. I couldn't ask for a better fake boyfriend." She murmurs, teasing and affectionate. "And I got a great real orgasm out of it too." She jokes.
He does relax noticeably at that. He chuckles, breathless and too loud. His hips are shuddering, now, growing sloppy as he loses control.
He comes with a loud groan, sinks into a long, slow kiss. Clarke kisses him back for several seconds, just letting him coast down the other side in his own time.
At last, they pull apart.
"Not bad for a first try." Bellamy says lightly.
"Pretty good, I'd say." She bounces back. She leans in, continues in a whisper for his ears only. "I mean it. That was actually really fun. Not the worst act to put on."
He flashes her a sharp grin. "Thanks. You, too. We make a good team, Princess."
Clarke smiles at him. She knows on a logical level that they cannot take a nap, now. It's still morning and their people are in danger and this is no time for sleeping. But damn it, she wants to take a nap. She's so tired, and now she's feeling more relaxed than she has done in days and she actually feels like she could sleep, if only she closed her eyes.
No. Time to get out of bed and dress. Time to face the next crisis.
…...
Bellamy spends the afternoon in the dorm while Clarke goes on one of her drawing expeditions. He is less concerned, now, at the idea she sometimes goes to sketch in solitude. He understands that's the way she takes care of herself and stays strong, not any sign that something is amiss.
All the same, he misses her. After that staged sex this morning – and the very real moment of intimate friendship that followed – he's grown even more used to having her by his side. He doesn't know how he'll cope, when this charade is over. He's allowed himself to start believing she will always be joined to him at the hip.
No. That's silly. He'll cope just fine, as he coped before she showed up in his life. And anyway, he's only relying on her comforting presence so much at the minute because the situation is a stressful one. He'll manage with a more distant and proper friendship when they call it quits on this act.
He intends to spend the afternoon playing chess with Wells. For reasons he doesn't entirely understand, it seems to be very important to Wells that Bellamy should learn how to be some master chess player. But the moment he walks into the dorm, Miller accosts him with a broad smile.
"Bellamy! How's the new room? How's domestic bliss?"
"It's great." He admits, breaking into an honest grin. "I just love living with Clarke, you know? It's the best of everything. I get a good friend's company and great sex all round the clock." It's only been a few hours, but he's already beginning to suspect that comment cuts a little too close to the truth.
Miller nods, strangely heavy. "Yeah. I always imagined it would be like that. Bryan always used to talk about us moving in together as soon as I graduated from cadet training but... that didn't work out, did it?"
Oh. Well. No way is Bellamy wandering off to play chess with Wells now. He cannot leave his good friend Miller to be sad about his missing – and possibly dead – boyfriend alone.
"I'm sorry, Miller." He frowns, feeling rather useless. What can be said or done in a situation like that?
"Don't be. Not your fault. I guess I'm just trying to say – appreciate Clarke while you have the chance. I can see you're really happy together but you often seem kind of tense too. Just stop overthinking it and enjoy this time with her."
Bellamy almost laughs. Yes, he probably is overthinking his fake relationship with Clarke. He probably is fretting too much about the fact he'd really rather like it to be real. But he's wasting a hell of a lot more energy on thinking too hard about the danger facing his people.
All the same, he nods carefully. He hates lying to Miller, but it must be done. He thinks that's one of the reasons he and Clarke have grown even closer since they started this strange charade actually – she is now the only person with whom he can be entirely honest, and that makes for a certain emotional intimacy all of its own.
"You're right. I should just chill out. I guess I still can't believe how lucky I got." He says, and the frightening thing is that it's not entirely a lie. He's trapped here amongst smiling strangers who keep a human blood supply, but in moments spent kissing Clarke, he honestly does feel like the luckiest guy on Earth.
Miller slaps him on the back with an approving nod. "You're OK, Bellamy. Come on – Wells is expecting you for chess. He said I could watch."
Bellamy frowns, taking that in. Miller wants to watch chess? What happened to that sounding boring as hell last time he mentioned it?
Oh. It all makes sense, as Wells waves at them both, and as Monty and Jasper take seats next to Wells, too. Bellamy should have realised that the social dynamics in this dorm would change a little, with him and Clarke moving out. It has only been a couple of hours, yes, but already it seems things are shifting. The friends they left behind are already pulling together in case the younger kids should need protecting. Wells and Miller have evidently already hit it off, and decided they will spend more time together now Bellamy and Clarke are absent.
Bellamy thinks that's fitting, actually. His closest friend from the dropship camp, and the closest friend Clarke has ever had. Their two right-hand-men, perhaps, in a manner of speaking. Naturally they will make a good team, and obviously he is delighted at the thought of them hitting it off.
He thinks he might be a tiny bit jealous, too. It leaves him feeling a tiny bit left out, reinforces the idea that Clarke is his closest companion in every sense of the word, these days.
But he's definitely more glad – and relieved – than jealous, so he crosses the room and prepares for his next chess lesson.
…...
Clarke expects to sleep well on the first night in the comfortable new bed she now shares with Bellamy. The mattress is soft, and she's sleepy from sex, and the room is dark and quiet, so the stage should be set for the best rest she's had in weeks.
She doesn't sleep well at all.
She's frustrated about that, because she's exhausted. But she's also tense, and worried, and she just cannot turn her brain off. She had a few ideas whilst drawing this afternoon about what their next steps might be to figure out what's going on in this strange place, and she's itching to press ahead with protecting their people.
With that in mind, she admits defeat, a little after midnight. She sidles closer to Bellamy and whispers in his ear.
"You awake?"
"Yeah. Can't stop worrying about O." He admits tiredly.
"I'm sorry." She whispers, helpless, snuggling closer to his side in what she hopes might be a comforting gesture. Sure, they are not really together, but doesn't everyone like a hug?
She wonders if that's still true when it's a naked hug from a fake girlfriend.
"Why do you ask? Two bedtime orgasms not enough for you?" He teases, too heavy, but trying his best.
"It's not that." She lowers her voice to the quietest of whispers. "It's about what we should do next to figure out what's going on with the blood."
He sighs. "Of course it is. What have you got?"
"We need to be careful. We can't pull another breaking and entering stunt any time soon. I'm thinking we need to split up and be smart about this. You volunteer to join the guard and tell them you used to be a cadet. I'll ask if I can pick up a medical apprenticeship here. We act like getting these quarters has inspired us to integrate fully into their society. We're so overwhelmed with gratitude that we want to give back to their community."
"And conveniently you're half-trained in bloodwork and I'm half-trained in security." He concludes, sounding rather pleased with her plan.
"Yeah. Exactly. We'll be perfectly placed."
He lets out a long sigh, whistling slightly between his lips. "I'm just glad you're on my side these days, Princess. You're pretty formidable."
She laughs. "Right back at you. We're doing alright, Bellamy. We can do this. You'll be our inside man on the guard and I'll be our eyes and ears in the medical ward. We're bound to learn more like that."
"You think they'll accept us into jobs just like that?"
She nods against his neck. "Yeah. I do. They're making a big deal about wanting our friendship – we still need to figure out exactly why that is. But I think they'll want to make a show of welcoming us with open arms."
"Yeah. I hope you're right."
Silence sits for a moment. They're still hugging rather closely, Clarke notes. And as the lights are off and they're not putting on a show, right this moment, she dares to dream that might be because they are both finding some genuine comfort in the contact.
She forces herself to roll away before she starts to look clingy. She shares leadership with this man, and she cannot let her soft spot for him make her weak.
To her surprise, he reaches out to set a gentle hand at her waist, even though she's now an arm's length away.
"Try to get some sleep now we've talked that out?" He prompts her softly.
She snorts out a hollow laugh. "Hypocrite. You too. Take some deep breaths and remember that your sister is strong."
"Yeah. I'll try."
His hand is still on her waist. But really, Clarke decides, that is hardly something to complain about.
a/n Thanks for reading!