Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, they belong to the CW and Kass Morgan but the plot is mine.

Clarke squeezed through the crowd of people near the subway doors and latched onto a pole with the hand that wasn't currently balancing three lattes on a flimsy cardboard tray. The subway wasn't supposed to be this crowded on a Wednesday morning. One of those climate change posts had been circulating, so perhaps people were doing their customary two days of caring about the environment before they decided they were too good to commute on the subway.

Clarke had tried cabs when she first moved to the city but they were always so hard to flag down and so expensive that now she rode the subway and griped about it to Niylah when she got to work. Niylah had suggested on multiple occasions that Clarke buy a car but she waved her off. If she bought a car, she could only complain about the traffic and parking which was far less interesting than complaining about poorly executed flash mobs or overly intimate couples who had decided that commuting was no reason to skip morning sex.

Someone nudged Clarke's arm, almost spilling her coffee. She scowled at their back as they exited the car. While the train was still stopped, she used her teeth to pull her sleeve away from her watch, careful not to smudge her lipstick on her sleeve. Anya would definitely raise an eyebrow at that one and then demand she go change so as not to tarnish their reputation as an "institution of the highest class." Honestly, Clarke was pretty sure that the fact that an extremely popular reality television show filmed at their "institution" already tarnished its reputation in some of those classy social circles. But she wasn't about to mention that to Anya. She liked her job, thank you very much.

The extra weight on the subway didn't seem to slow it down and Clarke managed to arrive at the bridal shop five minutes before Anya would have shaved off all her hair in retaliation for her tardiness.

Niylah was in the employee locker room when Clarke got in. She'd already changed her shoes and was fixing her makeup. Clarke switched from her trainers to her work heels that the producers insisted were absolutely necessary for ratings. Clarke wasn't a hundred percent sure that was true but who was she to deny that the general viewing public was just a bit sexist.

She gave Niylah the latte with a squirt of pumpkin sauce in it, making sure to sneer openly at it before releasing it into Niylah's eager hands.

"I love you," Niylah said. She moaned as she sipped from the cup.

"I don't understand how you drink that stuff. It's an insult to the coffee."

"Says the girl who puts milk in her tea."

Clarke was not entirely sure what was wrong with that but she ignored Niylah in favor of finishing her coffee and then reapplying her lipstick.

"What time is it?" Niylah asked.

Clarke checked her watch. "We have about thirty seconds until we are officially late for the huddle." Anya had insisted they stop calling it that until Wells had asked her just what else they might call it. Anya had no answer, and "the huddle" stuck.

Clarke's phone started vibrating. It was her mother. She rejected the call and shoved her phone in her locker.

"Who was that?" Niylah said, raising an eyebrow.

"Just a spam call, nothing juicy sorry."

Niylah pouted. "And here I thought it was some new fling."

Niylah put her phone in her locker and urged Clarke along to the huddle. Ever since the show had started there had been a no phone policy in the store for privacy reasons and, Clarke was sure, also for financial reasons. Clarke had only broken that rule once when she'd smuggled in a pager after her mom's first overdose when she was still in the ICU. Thankfully, she'd never received any messages except to tell her that her mother had stabilized and was being moved to a different ward. For the second overdose, she hadn't bothered with the pager. It wasn't worth risking the dressing down from Anya.

Clarke gave Anya the black coffee––no she was not a kiss up, she just noticed how much happier a caffeinated Anya was––and settled between Niylah and Wells to hear their appointments for the day.

"Niylah, you have a morning and an afternoon, both non camera clients," Anya said, glaring down at her clipboard as if offended by those appointments.

"Wells, you have a camera in the morning and a non camera in the afternoon."

Anya continued with assignments for the rest of the staff but Clarke zoned out a little.

Her mom had showed up the night before at her apartment building. Clarke hadn't let her in but she had spent a large part of the night listening to her mom cry over with intercom while her own finger hovered over the button to buzz her in. When Clarke finally climbed into bed at around three in the morning with red eyes and a pounding head, she promised herself she would somehow manage to find an affordable building with a doorman who would remove middle aged women before they used the intercom for three hours straight.

Niylah jabbed her elbow into Clarke's side.

"Huh?" Clarke said.

Anya gave her a sharp look. "As I was saying Clarke, you have a non camera client this morning and this afternoon. That's all for this morning. Go do whatever primping or setting up that you need to do before your appointments."

"What was that all about?" Wells asked Clarke as they walked into the locker room.

Clarke frowned. "What do you mean?" She pulled open her locker door and checked her reflection in the mirror there.

"I think he's referring to the fact that you've gone so long without getting laid that you are now incapable of paying attention to anything, let alone Anya's boring ass huddles," Niylah said, checking her red lipstick over Clarke's shoulder.

"Is that what happened?" Clarke asked.

Niylah nodded gravely. "You need to get some, babe. Before you completely lose it." She patted Clarke's shoulder and tugged a slightly apologetic Wells along with her to go check on something in one of the fitting rooms.

Clarke flipped off their retreating backs. She turned back to the mirror and fiddled with her shoulder length hair. Clarke really wished being single was her biggest problem right now. Sure, Clarke hadn't slept with anyone since she broke up with Finn over a year ago and had sat on Raven and Niylah's couch eating ramen and pink marshmallows and watching tv for an entire weekend. Eventually Raven had kicked her out as gently as was possible for her (the guy thought fight club was the best thing to happen to modern cinema, Clarke, you're better off). Clarke had gone home to her empty postage stamp of an apartment to commence her dry spell.

Niylah thought that Clarke had had some secret fling a month after Finn that had broken her heart. Clarke never actually told her that. Clarke hadn't been able to hide just how scared she was for her mom when things first got bad and Niylah had taken it upon herself to interpret Clarke's behavior. And now she was trying to prescribe Clarke sex to fix all that ailed her.

But wasn't it always Niylah who said women shouldn't be defined by their interactions with men? Clarke had also failed to hook up with anyone who wasn't a man either so maybe that's what Niylah was judging her on. Regardless, her inability to pay attention had nothing to do with her sex life or––more appropriately––lack there of. At least she hoped it didn't because that was not going to be fixed anytime in the foreseeable future.

Because Clarke's morning appointment was a non camera client, she didn't have to wait for them to do their pre show interviews and meetings with the producers. Instead, she waited in her usual consultation room, fiddling with pillows and smoothing out a wrinkle in her blouse that had somehow survived being in the bathroom during her scalding shower this morning.

She was so focused on the stubborn wrinkle that she didn't notice Monroe had entered the room with two other people until the woman coughed pointedly at her. Clarke looked up immediately, her cheeks growing warm.

Monroe raised an eyebrow at her and left Clarke with the duo that she had undoubtedly made an incredible impression on.

"Sorry about that," she said. "I'm Clarke and I'll be assisting you today." Normally she said something a little less robotic but the default settings were all she could manage at the moment.

The pair sat down on the gold wrap around couch. One was a young woman with pale skin, brown hair, and sharp eyes. Beside her sat a slightly older man with broad shoulders, olive skin, curly hair. When she looked slightly closer, he had freckles. That was unfortunate. At least for Clarke who had spent several drunk nights back in college ranting to Raven about how freckles automatically made any person twenty million times more attractive.

Clarke offered her hand to the woman. "I'm guessing you'll be my bride this morning?"

The woman shook her hand and giggled. "Good guess."

"And who do you have with you?" Clarke asked. She resisted the urge to add "And is he single?"

"This is my older brother, Bellamy."

Clarke reached out to shake his hand as well because wouldn't it be rude not to? She did have to consider decorum in her line of work. His calloused palm scratched against hers. Damn, his grip was firm. She released his hand before she could wonder what else he could do with that firm grip.

Clarke surveyed Octavia, trying to get an idea of her shape and what styles might work for her. "Have you done any bridal shopping before?"

Octavia wiggled her hand back and forth. "I've window shopped and done a little looking online but nothing that actually involved trying on dresses."

That was pretty typical. Most bridal shopping nowadays was done on pinterest at the ages of twelve and twenty two. She was about to get more information from Octavia when Bellamy raised his hand.

"I've actually done one of these appointments before."

Why was his voice so hot? Did he do that on purpose or did he just wake up raspy? Nope, nope, Clarke should definitely not think about what his voice would sound like first thing in the morning. That was the path to Satan. And looking like a total idiot. But mostly Satan.

"Have you?"

Bellamy rubbed the back of his neck. "My best friend got married about a year ago and I was his best man. I'm really close with his wife too so she asked me to help out."

"And her dress was absolutely gorgeous," Octavia gushed. "Right, Bell?" She nudged her brother with a slight smirk. He nodded obligingly at her.

"I'm sure that was all you," Clarke said.

Bellamy looked surprised for a moment, but then he laughed. "Oh absolutely."

Octavia looked back and forth between the two of them suspiciously. Clarke didn't blame her. It was a little early in the appointment for jokes that verged into flirty banter. Anya would probably argue that any point in the appointment was too early for anything that even remotely resembled flirting, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her, right?

"Can I have some details? Ya know, when's the wedding? Who's the groom? What sort of dress are you looking for? All that good stuff so I have a better idea of what we're looking at here?"

"Well the wedding is currently scheduled for late September so that's about seven months from now. The venue we've booked for the ceremony can be inside or outside depending on the weather but my fiance and I are hoping we'll be able to get married outside. We're both big into nature and hiking and the gardens have a walkway lined with trees that are all at least a century old that we've dreamed about using as an aisle before we even agreed to get married."

So Clarke was not going to have to dress anyone in a heavy dress to stand outside in the middle of summer or deal with some theme that would fit a middle school dance more than it would fit a wedding? Her day must have been turning around.

"And the fiance?" she prompted.

Octavia lit up at the question, but Bellamy, who up until this point had been smiling at his sister's enthusiasm, shrunk down in his seat with just the hint of a frown on his face. Did he not like the fiance? Or was he a dick who didn't understand that his sister caring about a man that wasn't him was not the end of the world? Clarke kinda hoped it was the latter. Maybe then he wouldn't be so attractive to her.

"His name is Lincoln. He's 26 and he's a social worker." Octavia's expression had turned just a little bit soft as if she were describing her secret love rather than the man she was going to marry in less than a year.

"We accidentally proposed to each other on the same night because I've never been one to wait around for things I want," Bellamy snorted and Octavia elbowed him, "and he was worried I would beat him to it. So one night we both made up our minds to propose and somehow ended up picking out venues before we even finished dinner."

Okay, that was cute. She'd heard a lot of proposal stories in her time but her favorites were always the ones where both people had just simultaneously realised that they were ready for marriage.

"He formally proposed with the ring we'd picked the next month while we were on a hiking trip. He said that even though he preferred the non-traditional proposal and ring shopping and all that, he'd wanted to surprise me just a little. And he succeeded."

"That's why I didn't bring him with me for dress shopping. We've talked a little about style and a lot about budget, but I wanted to surprise him with the final product. The whole waiting to see the bride thing has always seemed a little stupid to me, so we're going to meet alone right before the cemomony."

"I personally think that's the way to do it," Clarke confessed. She glanced over at Bellamy who had relaxed a little now that his sister was no longer speaking directly about her fiance but rather about her opinion on a variety of wedding traditions. He looked away from Octavia for a moment and caught Clarke's eye. She looked away from him entirely too fast as a blush once again took over her cheeks. Maybe if she just focused on doing her job instead of doing ungodly attractive older brothers, she wouldn't be embarrassing herself as much.

"You mentioned having looked at some styles? Anything you have in mind?" Normally she would ask if the entourage had any suggestions as well, but the current company made such actions too risky to consider.

Octavia looked contemplative and a little nervous which was fairly normal for brides who hadn't actually tried anything on yet. "I know that I don't want anything with a lot of rhinestones or sequins since we're looking to be outside."

"How do you feel about lace?"

"Depends on the dress, but I usually like it. I think it's more ethereal than the super ornate styles."

Clarke nodded. "What about shape?"

"I don't like the really poofy ball gowns. They're not really the look I'm going for. I usually go for the trumpets and mermaids but I'm open to other slim styles if you have something you think might look nice."

Clarke turned to Bellamy. "Is there anything you'd particularly like to see?"

He must have been zoning out or something because as soon as she spoke to him, he started and coughed. "Sorry?"

"Is there any style you think might look good on her?" She waited for Bellamy to respond for a few moments, but whatever was on his mind he did not seem inclined to share. "I'm assuming you have some opinions since you're the only person she brought." Maybe that was a little aggressive, but she didn't have forever for this guy to try to figure out what constituted the most manly fashion advice even if she was close to inviting him to help her end that dry spell that Niylah had decided to mention every single day.

Bellamy frowned. "I do have an opinion. I'm just making sure it's a good one."

"Share it and I'll let you know."

Octavia gave Clarke and Bellamy another weird look as if trying to figure out exactly what was going on in both their minds and why it had to happen on a trip that was supposed to be about her. Clarke couldn't fault her for that.

"Well, Emori, my friend that I mentioned earlier, tried on a few dresses that had like a higher neckline but still had no sleeves like a vest top. She actually ended up with a dress like that with mostly lace. I don't know if that's quite what you're envisioning, O, but I'd be kinda curious to see how it looks if you're open to trying it." He slid his hand down the sides of his torso and along the bottom of his neck, demonstrating the shape of the bodice.

"Well, with a body like hers, a high neckline is always a good option. I declare your suggestion a good one."

"Thank you."

If only she had met him in a bar or at a party or even on the subway, she would have flirted as much as she wanted and then taken him home. Maybe she would have even taken him on a date after that if the sex was okay.

But she had met him at work and she did not get paid to flirt with guys that probably were far too focused on making their sister's dreams come true to pay attention to the desperate advances of sex starved consultants. She did get paid to choose dresses however and she had a few pieces in mind for Octavia.

"What are you thinking in terms of budget?" she asked. This question was always her least favorite to ask. After the bride told her all her wedding dreams, she had to bring her back down to Earth by reminding her that weddings were a festival of capitalism that was designed to make you want a divorce long before the ceremony even started.

Octavia bit her lip and fiddled with her engagement ring. "Lincoln and I agreed on a maximum of fifteen hundred."

That was a little lower than Clarke had hoped for. The dresses she had been thinking of were all in the two and three thousand range.

"I know it's a little lower than a lot of the budgets on the show, but you can make it work, right?"

Up until then, Octavia had seemed like one of the most confident women in the world to Clarke. But in that moment, she became a teenager, worried that she would be excluded because she couldn't afford to go shopping with her friends or not be asked to the prom because she couldn't pay for a several hundred dollar dress like the ones her friends had all chosen.

Clarke shuffled closer to Octavia and rested a hand on her shoulder. "There's plenty of room in that budget." Not completely true. "And I'm sure I don't need to tell you that reality television does not perfectly reflect real life even in a place as naturally absurd as a bridal shop." True. "I already have a few dresses in that range that I want you to try." Not at all true.

She excused herself to go pull some dresses from somewhere, maybe out of her ass since she wasn't sure where else she would find ones to match the ones she had been thinking of.

"Clarke," Bellamy called just as she was about to exit the room. "Can I just ask one more question?"

The fantasy part of her brain decided that what he wanted to ask her was what time she got off work and if she would like a drink with him. The rational part of her brain knew that whatever he wanted to ask was probably going to make her job even harder.

She returned to where she had been standing earlier and spread her hands, inviting Bellamy to speak so that she could go make Niylah ditch her appointment to dress hunt and possibly switch some price tags and stock information.

"Would O have more options in terms of dresses if she had a bigger budget?" He looked a little sheepish and maybe even sly?

"Bell," Octavia hissed.

He shushed her. "Well, would she?"

"I mean, yeah, she would. But that's not a reason to raise the budget." Clarke sat down on an ottoman facing the pair and lowered her voice. "Look I'd probably get fired if my boss hears me saying this, but there are more important parts of a wedding than a dress. The people, the food, the venue, you," she pointed at Octavia, "and the person you're agreeing to spend your life with."

"My goal is to find you a dress that makes you feel special and beautiful, not something that's price forces you to compromise on your dream wedding or other things in your life that you want. I've found plenty of dresses for brides with lower budgets than yours that looked lovely on them here and even better when they walked down the aisle. I don't see why I can't do the same for you."

For the first time since money had been mentioned, Octavia smiled. "I trust you then. Work your magic." She hugged Clarke quickly and blushed. "Sorry, I've just been a little anxious about it because I love the show but it seems like the people with budgets like mine always go way over or way ugly."

"Well I promise to do neither," Clarke declared.

"Thank you." Octavia leaned against Bellamy. He slid his arm from when it had been resting on the top of the couch to wrap around her shoulder. This affectionate behavior unsettled Clarke a little after so many years of bickering and backstabbing siblings.

He bit his lip like he was trying to contain a smile, but it was a losing battle. Soon he was grinning a cheshire grin.

"What?" Clarke asked, slightly disgruntled by his choosing this moment to find something incredibly entertaining when she was about to alienate all her coworkers or rather further alienate most of them besides Niylah, Anya, and Wells––apparently she was "bossy" and "hard-headed"––by launching a store-wide dress hunt.

"O's never been that good at math––"

"––hey!"

"and she made a little mistake about her budget." He paused and Clarke could have sworn she saw him lick his lips. "It's actually six thousand." He beamed at his sister. Clarke was sure that he was mentally patting himself on the back for his comedic timing.

Octavia's face darkened. "No, Bell."

"Why not?"

"Because you can't afford it!" she hissed at him.

Clarke was tempted to excuse herself just so she didn't have to watch the siblings fight about something as personal as money, but she did really need to know which budget they were going with before she scoured the store.

"Says who?"

Octavia rolled her eyes in a manner that resembled a teenager rebelling against her father. "Bell, you're a history teacher."

"I think I have a better sense of my finances than you do, O, unless you've been sneaking a peak at my tax returns every time you visit."

Octavia lowered her voice. "There are better ways to show off than this."

Clarke had been trying to curl into herself and be as invisible as possible throughout this little exchange, but she looked up at that. She met Bellamy's angry eyes and quickly looked back down again. Octavia couldn't be meaning anything about Clarke, right? Probably not, but who else could Bellamy be showing off for?

"I'm not showing off, O," he softened his voice and covered Octavia's shoulder with one of his giant hands. "I just want to do a little extra something nice for your special day. Okay? So stop fighting me on it please, so that we can enjoy the rest of the morning and find you your dream dress."

Clarke couldn't help but wonder what exactly the age gap was between the two. Just from looking at them, Bellamy was at least a few years olders but he spoke more like a parental figure than a sibling to his sister. Full disclosure though, Clarke was an only child as were most of her friends so maybe she just had no idea what siblings sounded like when they weren't trying to tear each other apart on a reality show just so they could have their five minutes of internet fame.

"But you've already done so much for the wedding, Bell. And you paid for the appointment. I don't want you to make yourself uncomfortable for a stupid dress."

Clarke winced just a little. She agreed that wedding dresses were not worth financial ruin but Octavia just roasted her entire career right there. If she'd wanted that sort of criticism, she would have remained an artist.

Bellamy let out a throaty laugh. "Trust me, O, I don't love you nearly enough to even consider making myself pinch pennies. So shut up and let me do something nice."

"Fine," she said.

"Thank you."

"If you promise to tell me if I look ugly even if I'm in love with the dress and want to be buried in it."

"Deal," Bellamy said, shaking his head. The two of them shook hands.

Clarke stood up, "So, six thousand then?" She hated to mention anything resembling numbers after that whole ordeal but she did need to know.

As soon as they both nodded, Clarke fled the room.

The first dress she had in mind lived in the front part of the store. The dress had an underdress with a sweetheart neckline and low back and then lace overlay on the entire dress that also extended to form Bellamy's high neck––it seemed fitting to pull his suggestion in the first round after the payment fiasco––and also cover the back up to the neck. The lace came in from the chest to the neck at a slight angle and then joined to a circle of lace flowers around the neck. It had a trumpet style skirt that came in at the knees and then flared out, all covered in the same lace overlay.

She lugged that dress to the back where she was pretty sure the other dress she'd wanted in this round was hiding. It was an A-line made entirely of a light translucent flowy fabric with shimmering detailing over a light underskirt. The bodice had a plunging neckline and low back lined with beading and held up by two thin straps. The dress was perhaps a little too beachy for Octavia but her reaction to it would be helpful.

However, before she found the dress she was looking for, she found Niylah. She absent mindedly thumbed through the racks, not actually looking at the dresses but rather at the wall in a manner that seemed almost meditative.

Clarke slid next to her. "Working hard?" she murmured in her ear.

Niylah jumped approximately five feet and made the face of a husband who had just forgotten an anniversary in one of those nineties sitcoms. It was in moments like these that Clarke most missed her phone and its video camera.

"Oh, it's you," Niylah clutched at her chest. "I think I just pulled myself out of going into cardiac arrest."

Clarke humoured her. "I'm sure you did."

"Do you need a search buddy?"

They often helped each other find dresses that seemed to have decided to join the great beyond rather than perpetuate the grinding wheel of capitalism. They were supposed to have the stock and locations memorized, but Clarke was pretty sure that no one besides Anya and perhaps Wells actually did. Between their shared knowledge and some dumb luck, they usually found what they were looking for––or a dress similar enough to justify stopping the search before it became a full on hunt, something that required Wells, his freaky photographic memory and annoyingly high work ethic.

"Maybe." She scanned the rack in front of her. It was the right designer but the dress didn't seem to be there. Hopefully no one else had pulled it. Octavia's reaction to that dress would narrow down exactly what she was looking for.

"Do you need a buddy?" Clarke cocked her hip. "Doesn't really seem like you're looking for much of anything back here. Shouldn't you be focusing on your appointment, missy?"

Niylah rolled her eyes. "I am looking for something, but," she glanced around the room as if Anya was liable to pop up at any moment and chastise them for not busting their butts to be as efficient as possible for the people sitting on plush gold sofas, "I am also catching my breath just a little before I have to go back in there."

"That bad?"

"Rejects for sure."

That was what the two of them had taken to calling the parties that they were certain had applied to be on the show but somehow failed to make the cut and then had decided to pretend that they were on the show anyway. Common signs included, bringing someone totally unnecessary and utterly unhelpful such as an ex girlfriend, competitive fremamy, or estranged relative; randomly mentioning some deep running drama among their friends or family; and demanding everyone there shell out as much cash as possible because god forbid the dress the bride will only wear once is a reasonable price that she herself pays.

"The bride brought some gay uncle, probably because she thinks he knows more about fashion than her father and is therefore more likely to cough up money, but the guy looks like he got dressed in the dark and would rather kiss his husband in the middle of a Midwestern fundamentalist church than be here. On top of that, the father is clearly homophobic. He won't even look at his brother even though he's sitting right next to the guy. The mom is a drunk narcissist so she's no help and don't even get me started on the bridesmaids. They are single handedly undoing all the profeminity and problonde ideas that Elle Woods taught me."

"Niylah, you're a blonde femme."

"I know. They're making me hate myself." She turned back to the rack and flipped through a few more dresses, actually looking at them now. The rant must have relieved enough tension that she could do her job now instead of staring mindlessly at the wall.

Clarke herself moved on to the rack next to that one in hopes that she could get back to Bellamy and Octavia before they assumed all their money talk had compelled her to make a break for it and carry out her lifelong dream of moving to Siberia.

"You have a non camera party, right?" Niylah asked.

Clarke hummed.

"They're alright then?" she poked Clarke between her ribs. "No crazy rejects with homophobic fathers and drunk mothers?"

"Yeah they're great, really great," she admitted. She prayed Niylah wouldn't notice that she was blushing or at least wouldn't say anything about it.

"Clarke Griffin, are you blushing?" Niylah flicked her ear. "Is the bride hot? You know she's getting married, right?"

"Yeah but her brother's not," Clarke mumbled and then slapped her hand over her mouth. Why did she have to give Niylah any more ammunition?

"Gross, a boy."

"Man," Clarke corrected, checking a few dresses that looked a little like the one she was looking for. Still no luck. She moved a little further down the rack and continued thumbing through.

"Well excuse me. Didn't mean to insult the future father of my god children. And it's just him and his sister? Must be nice to only have to deal with arguments between two people."

"They actually haven't been too bad other than a small spat over budget." She groaned as she pulled out another dress only to find out that it had only been masquerading as the one she wanted to make her feel like she might actually find it.

"Bratty bride?" Niylah prodded when it became clear that Clarke was not intending to elaborate on the details of this argument.

"She had a budget of fifteen hundred which was going to be a little tricky but then her brother offered to pay up to six thousand. She was worried that he wasn't able to afford it and he was really stubborn in a way that shouldn't have been hot but kinda was."

"I don't know about you and stubborn in the long term. You're pretty stubborn yourself, babe," Niylah mused. She pulled out a princess gown covered in rhinestones from the neighboring rack. "Finally. How's your search going?"

Clarke made a face at her and started looking through the dresses with new vigor. It had to be here. "I think someone stubborn might be nice. Finn always just went along with things and then resented me quietly. I think I'd rather just fight up front."

"And then have amazing angry sex followed by make up sex in the morning."

"Sure, why not."

Niylah reached into the group of dresses Clarke had already checked and pulled out a familiar dress. "Looking for this?"

Clarke looked it up and down. Of course it was the exact dress. "I hate you."

An odd tension still hung over the room when Clarke returned from putting the two dresses in a fitting room. The two of them must have still been a little at odds over the money. Clarke understood where Octavia was coming from. Ever since her first overdose last year, her mother had randomly taken to throwing money at Clarke in some pitiful attempt to return their dynamic to one in which Clarke was the dependent instead of the caretaker.

Clarke never quite knew how to feel about her mother's spending. Unlike Bellamy, she could clearly afford it, but she hated that it came from such an insecure and desperate place for her mother. She often took the money because her mother would threaten to spend it on less savory purchases if Clarke didn't accept the gift. She was joking of course. At least Clarke hoped she was.

She did not want to get into that with Bellamy or Octavia however. Just because they'd spoken openly about their financials before her did not mean she should do the same. After all, Niylah and Raven were her best friends and they didn't even know about her mom.

She shepherded Octavia into the fitting room she'd commendered, leaving Bellamy to wait alone and most likely brood if his pronounced frown lines were any indication.

Octavia studied the two dresses that hung on the opposite wall of the fitting room, her face unreadable. Hopefully she wouldn't reject them just because they weren't exactly what she was looking for. The goal with this round was for Octavia to get a better understanding of how she looked in different materials and shapes.

She gave Octavia a few moments to inspect the dresses. She scanned them up and down and side to side. Clarke wasn't exactly sure just what she was looking for. "Can you tell me how you're feeling right now about these two?"

"I definitely want to try this one on," she pointed to the dress with the high neck. "I'm not so sure about the vibe of the other one but I'm willing to try it if you think I should."

"That's why I pulled it," Clarke said. "Mostly I want you to think about the shape since I have a few like it that I have in mind for you."

Octavia nodded, but it didn't seem like she was actually paying any attention to what Clarke had said. She rubbed her temples and stared at the dresses for a little longer. "I don't suppose you could give me an idea of just how much these cost?"

So that was what was bothering her. Even though she'd stopped fighting Bellamy about his budget, she still wasn't ready to let him spend so much on her. That wouldn't do. Penny pinching brides rarely shopped well and rarely ended up with the dress they wanted.

"I get why you're asking, but I'm going to wait to tell you until you've really had a chance to get to know each dress." Octavia began to protest, but Clarke raised a hand to silence her. "Picking a dress is your job and making sure you get the right dress at the right price is mine. So focus on your job and I'll focus on mine."

Octavia ran a hand through her hair. "Not even a hint?" she asked. "I just won't be able to relax about it until I know."

Maybe she had a point there. She didn't want her fixating on the unknown price and ignoring the dress. "I will tell you that both of these dresses are not even close to your brother's budget, but that's it."

"I guess that's good enough." She pointed to the beachy dress. "Can I try that one first? I don't want Bell to think I'm only trying on his suggestion because he offered to pay."

Clarke retrieved the dress as Octavia stripped down. She offered her the silky robe that also hung in the dressing room, but Octavia argued that the robe was rather pointless if she was just going to put on the dress right away.

Clarke helped her into the dress, carefully averting her eyes away from all the necessary spots. Octavia was luckier than most brides in that the sample size fit her well. The skirt pooled a bit on the floor and the bodice didn't hug her chest quite right, but she would still be able to get an accurate idea of what her size would look like on her.

As soon as Clarke finished doing up the buttons that trailed from her lower back to the top of her tailbone, Octavia once again asked about the price.

Clarke sighed. This whole Bellamy thing was taking up way too much of Octavia's energy. She almost missed the old budget. Almost.

"Babe, you've got to let yourself focus on the dress otherwise we'll never get anything done."

Octavia agreed but Clarke could tell she hadn't let it go.

"I may be overstepping a bit, but I think you should trust your brother on this. Maybe he's thought it through more than you think."

Octavia was quiet for a moment as she stared at herself in the mirror. Clarke prayed that she hadn't pissed her off. The last thing she wanted to do was work with a bride that hated her guts.

"He never thinks things through. Not even stuff like this." She twisted around and squeezed Clarke's hand. "I'm sorry we put you in the middle of this." She cracked a half-hearted smile. "Appointment from hell, right?"

"Actually, no. Y'all are much better than the crazies I usually have seeing as your biggest issue is that you want to take care of each other." She probably shouldn't have said that. "Not that anyone who shops here is crazy. They're all great. I love my job."

Octavia smiled. "Nice save. Very convincing."

"As long as it holds up in a court of law, I'm good."

Octavia didn't answer her. Instead she twisted back and forth a little, watching her skirt swish. The deep slit opened up and allowed her tanned leg to slip through.

"This fabric is really fun. I just don't see myself getting married in it," she admitted.

That was fair. "Do you want to show your brother and see it in the bigger mirror?" Clarke asked. She still had a few other questions for Octavia, but those could wait until they were in the other room. She didn't want Octavia to have to repeat herself.

Octavia considered the suggestion for a moment before agreeing. "Bellamy will have a better idea of what I'm looking for and how to help me if he knows each dress I tried on. I don't want him to be in the dark."

Even though Octavia had been well mannered and considerate for the entire appointment, her response still surprised Clarke. So many brides expected so much from their entourage and then gave them nothing to work with. She often found herself wondering why they even brought all those people if they were just going to ignore them and not even show them half the dresses.

Clarke helped Octavia hike up her skirt enough to walk safely back to the consultation room. With Clarke holding her train, Octavia looked like some runaway bride who had left the beach to get married in a nearby store.

Bellamy was scrolling on his phone when they entered the room. Hearing the two of them, he covered his eyes.

"I want it to be a surprise," he explained.

Octavia rolled your eyes. "Don't get too excited. I'm not that into this one, but I wanted to show it to you anyway."

Bellamy made a face that was somewhat obscured by the two giant hands still covering his eyes. Clarke giggled. He was almost adorable. Scratch that, he was definitely adorable.

"Don't try to sway my opinion, O," he said. "I need to be your impartial judge."

Clarke snorted. "This isn't jury duty, Bellamy."

He turned toward the sound of her voice. "This is far more important than upholding our prison industrial complex by prosecuting the poor in public trials." His voice was completely serious but his whole "see no evil" thing ruined the impact of his words.

"Can you please get on the platform, so he can open his eyes?" she begged Octavia. "I can't take him seriously like that."

Octavia laughed and carefully stepped up on the platform. "You can look now!"

Bellamy lowered his hands. "Wow, O," he breathed. Wonder filled his voice. "You look incredible." He trailed off as if unsure.

"But?" Octavia prompted. "You promised you were going to be honest, Bell."

Bellamy narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, studying the dress. He looked over at Clarke but she just raised an eyebrow at him. She wasn't going to help him. He was perfectly capable of sharing his opinion on the dress his little sister had already made clear she didn't like.

"It doesn't make you look like a bride," he admitted. "You look more like you're about to do some ritual on a beach or in a field somewhere."

Well that was certainly a creative image. Didn't Octavia say he was a history teacher?

Octavia was about to step off the platform, but Clarke asked her to stay there for a moment. "How do you feel about the shape of the front of the bodice and the general shape of the skirt?"

"I didn't think I could pull off a low back or neckline that went down this far, but I actually really like it. It feels like the most bridal thing about this dress for me." Octavia said. "The fabric makes the skirt feel a little flimsy and almost informal, but I think I would be willing to try on something with a similar skirt if it was a more bridal fabric."

Okay so that ruled out a few dresses but not all. A dress that Clarke had dismissed as a little too bridal for Octavia pushed its way to the front of her mind. "What if the skirt were layered?"

Octavia's face lit up. Maybe Clarke actually knew how to do her job after all. "I'd definitely try that on."

Clarke needed to pull that dress in the next round then. She wasn't quite sure what else she would grab yet. Octavia's reaction to the other dress would help her with that though. They were done with this one.

"Ready to try on the other one?" Clarke asked.

Octavia nodded but then shook her head. "You promised you would tell me the price once we were done."

Clarke sighed. She had hoped Octavia had forgotten about that. Octavia's concern was understandable, and Clarke couldn't help but be annoyed at Bellamy even if he was cute. He had tried to do something nice by paying for the dress, but Octavia's anxiety for his finances had cast a dark cloud over the entire appointment. He should have just told Clarke in private and then told Octavia once she picked out the dress she liked. Clarke was not above lying about price for the sake of a surprise but she couldn't lie to Octavia with how anxious this whole matter was making her.

"This dress is twenty-one hundred," she said. Hopefully that would appease Octavia since it wasn't anywhere close to her brother's high budget.

But Octavia's face fell. She turned back to the mirror, lifting the skirt to inspect it. "This dress doesn't even have many beads or any lace. How much more expensive is that other one you pulled going to be?"

Clarke would have made the exact same assumption before she'd started working here, but she'd learned that pricing was actually far less logical than that.

She picked up the overskirt layer to show to Octavia up close. "See that detailing? That's why it's expensive. It's a really labor intensive textile and on top of that it's hard to work with because it's so delicate so the dress takes a while to make."

"That makes sense. But since the other dress has so much lace, it must also be really expensive, right?"

Octavia was not slick at all. Clarke glanced over at Bellamy. Octavia wasn't trying to be ungrateful, but he couldn't be too happy hearing all her anxiety over price. She was right. His face had contorted into a frown that unfortunately made him no less attractive. But that was not what was important at the moment, so Clarke should really stop focusing on it.

She needed to get Octavia to drop the whole price thing before it soured the visit any more than it already had.

"Please don't try to predict prices because I can assure you that even after years working here, that skill eludes me, much to my boss's annoyance," she said. Bellamy chuckled lightly and she blushed a little. What was wrong with her? Maybe Niylah had a point about the dry spell being distracting. Not that she'd ever admit that to her.

"Octavia, I said this before, but please just trust me to do my job. I know you're afraid of falling in love with a dress that's too expensive, but right now you're so focused on price, that you're making falling in love with any dress difficult."

Bellamy rose from the sofa to stand right behind the sofa. "I agree, O. I appreciate how much you care, but if I had known this would be so stressful for you, I never would have said anything."

He put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed them gently, locking eyes with his sister in the mirror. "I think the idea of shelling out so much money on a dress is what's actually freaking you out, but you can pass down your dress, you can give it to a friend, you can even donate it. It's not a single use if you don't want it to be."

Octavia sucked in a deep breath. "Do people actually do that?"

"Donate?" Clarke asked. "Yeah all the time. Or they resell." Though personally she thought donation was a far better option. People deserved to get married in a dress they loved, no matter how much money they had. "I can hook you up with some places later if that's something you're into."

"I might take you up on that." Octavia stepped off the platform, making her way back towards the fitting room.

Clarke was about to follow her when Bellamy stopped her with a light tap on her shoulder. She jumped and whipped around to look at him.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to apologize for causing such a drama for you. We're not usually such a high drama family."

"Well this store does seem to bring that out in people," Clarke joked.

He hummed. "Maybe someone should set a reality show here or something then. But maybe don't have it center on boring people who just argue over budget the whole time."

Clarke laughed. "Somehow I doubt that you're boring."

"I could be hiding something super exciting and adventurous," Bellamy suggested. "Like that I'm a spy or maybe a mob boss." He looked thoughtful. "Or maybe I'm a mild mannered history teacher whose idea of fun is going wedding dress shopping with his kid sister."

"I guess I'll just have to get to know you better and find out." Well, that came out wrong. Hopefully he would ignore it and let her wallow in her embarrassment alone.

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" He leaned a little closer to Clarke. The slightest hint of a smirk played on his lips as she began to blush.

She needed to get out of here before this got any less professional. Bellamy's presence distracted her enough as it was. She didn't need him flirting with her and making her head spin.

"I should go help Octavia before she comes looking for me," Clarke spluttered. "Bye."

She rushed out of the room, leaving a smirking Bellamy in her wake.

She was still blushing when she reached Octavia who raised an eyebrow at her appearance. "Everything alright?" she asked.

Clarke nodded perhaps a bit too vigorously. "Totally. Let's get you out of that dress, yeah?"

Octavia giggled. "Buy me a drink first, jeez."

Clarke began to undo the line of buttons on Octavia's back. "My bad," Clarke said. "Didn't mean to ask you to cheat on your fiance without properly getting to know you first." She decided not to mention that though Octavia was certainly not hard to look at, Clarke only had interest in undressing one Blake in anything other than a professional setting.

Octavia received the second dress much more positively than the first and most importantly, she didn't ask once about the budget. Instead she stared at herself in the mirror, absentmindedly playing with the lacey overlay of the skirt until Clarke convinced her that the big mirror offered a much better view and much better lighting.

As the two of them walked back to the consultation room, Octavia asked Clarke all sorts of questions about her job. Mostly she wanted to know how someone who studied fine art ended up in a bridal shop. Clarke explained as best she could without mentioning her mother whose sudden instability in Clarke's college years had made the realities of life as an artist much more daunting. Thankfully, they reached the consultation room before Octavia could ask too many questions.

Bellamy repeated his whole big reveal thing which had started to annoy Clarke a little. She wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because it somehow implied that her being a bride was a novel concept to him even though Octavia had made it sound like their engagement was a long one.

He, like Octavia, expressed much more excitement about this dress than the last, complimenting the lace, the trumpet, and the bodice. However he didn't seem quite sure about the dress as a whole.

"I don't think the high neck is right for you," he said. "I preferred the neckline of the other dress to be honest."

Octavia frowned as she looked at herself in the mirror. "I agree that the high neck isn't quite the look I'm going for, but I do really like the skirt."

They discussed the dress for a little longer and then Octavia asked Clarke if she could tell her the price of the dress. However, instead of being anxious to know, Octavia just seemed curious to find out since Clarke had made the whole thing seem so unpredictable.

"Nineteen hundred," Clarke told her. Octavia didn't comment on the price but Bellamy frowned at Clarke, like he blamed her for the price being so low. But Clarke didn't have the energy to worry about what was wrong now. She needed to focus on Octavia.

"Any last thoughts before I grab another dress?" she asked the two of them.

Octavia remained silent, but Bellamy spoke up.

"You look great, O," he said. "You just don't look like a bride."

As Octavia tried on three more dresses, that sentiment began to plague Clarke. Every dress was "pretty, but not bridal." To be fair, it wasn't like Bellamy was talking Octavia out of anything, but Clarke was getting real sick of hearing about how non bridal everything she picked out was. She was a bridal consultant for God's sake. Where did he get the idea that he was the declarer of all things bridal?

It probably shouldn't bother her so much, but when he said that about every single dress Octavia tried on, he made her feel like she didn't know what she was doing. All the dresses were plenty bridal. They just didn't fit Octavia's wedding.

And on top of that, everytime Clarke announced a price that was under three thousand, Bellamy full on glared at her as if she'd conspired to save him money. As if that would be the worst thing she could do.

Clarke had originally assumed that Bellamy had wanted to pay for the dress to do something nice for his sister, but his resistance to the process undermined that theory. He actually reminded Clarke of her mother, throwing money at Clarke to keep her dependent on her even as she fell apart. The two of them did show a lot of affection and Octavia clearly cared about his Maybe Bellamy feared that once Octavia married, she wouldn't need him anymore and paying for the dress and being a pain in Clarke's ass––not even in a good way––was his last ditch effort for control.

His constant rejection frustrated Octavia as well or at least embarrassed her. She apologized as Clarke helped her out of dress number five and into a silky robe.

"It's fine," she lied. Making Octavia more embarrassed wouldn't help her situation. "As long as you feel like I'm doing my job well."

"Oh you are," Octavia was quick to assure her. "And I'm sure Bellamy thinks so too even if he has a funny way of showing it."

"Yeah, real funny," Clarke said. Some might say he didn't think that at all from the way he was showing it.

Octavia played with her engagement ring. "To be honest, I don't think you're the problem. He's been dragging his feet the whole process. I thought today was going to be better because he scheduled the appointment and was so excited to go, but now he's making me wonder if it's not the dress that isn't bridal for him."

"You think he doesn't see you as a bride?" Clarke asked. That certainly strengthened the control theory. He didn't want his kid sister to grow up.

"I don't know. It certainly feels like that," Octavia said. "I know he doesn't like Lincoln. He always says he does, but looks like he's swallowed a lemon every time we do so much as kiss in front of him."

Clarke shrugged. "I mean he's your brother. Maybe the PDA just makes him uncomfortable."

"He's more like my Dad," Octavia said. Clarke raised an eyebrow at her. Bellamy didn't seem that much older than Octavia.

"Our mom left when I was twelve and Bell was eighteen. He basically put his life on pause to raise me so that we didn't get separated. But he was used to taking care of me. Our mom was such a mess with addiction and terrible boyfriends that Bellamy was usually the one making meals, helping me with my homework, and picking me up from school."

"I don't want to marry someone he doesn't like, but he's never liked anyone I've dated. At least with Lincoln he tries to hide it for my sake." She wiped away a tear and shrugged.

Clarke hugged her tightly. "I've got some dress ideas." She released her. "Are you okay waiting for a bit while I grab an assistant?"

Octavia frowned, confused. "Who?"

"Your brother." Bellamy had passively criticized for too long. He needed to get more involved with this whole process and maybe have some sense knocked into him. Clarke didn't care how hot he was. Her duty was to the bride and no bride should be made to feel like that.

Clarke stormed back into the consultation room where Bellamy sat, scrolling on his phone just as he had been every time before. "Get up. You're coming with me," she said.

"Huh?"

Clarke didn't have the time or patience for this. "Get up, Blake. We're going dress shopping since you seem to know so much about what makes something bridal or not."

He followed her wordlessly into the back of the store. Technically she wasn't supposed to bring anyone to the back but she was way past the point of caring. She'd take the dressing down from Anya if it meant she finally found the right dress for Octavia.

They didn't speak to each other until they reached the first dress Clarke had been thinking of, a lacey A-line with a keyhole back. She pulled it off the rack and showed it to Bellamy.

He shook his head.

"It just doesn't look quite bridal enough to me," he said.

Clarke was officially done with that complaint, but she didn't have the energy to fight him on it so she moved onto the next dress, a beaded lace sheath dress. When she presented it to him, Bellamy frowned.

"So help me God, if you say it's not bridal enough, I'm going to cut a bitch," Clarke fumed.

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. "It's getting to you that much?" he sounded unimpressed, like he hadn't been basically accusing Clarke of being incapable of her job from the moment Octavia stepped out in that first dress.

Of course it got to her. What did he expect?

"It's not just getting to me," she retorted.

"What do you mean?" Bellamy asked. "Is Octavia upset?"

How was that even a question for him if they were as close as Octavia claimed?

"Of course she's upset. She's starting to think that maybe the dress isn't the problem for you."

Bellamy cocked his head and leaned against the wall between the racks of puffy skirts, delicate lace, and dangling beads. "What? I've told her she looks beautiful everytime and she does. I've always encouraged her to take pride in her appearance."

He probably didn't mean for that to sound so creepy.

"Yes, beautiful, but not bridal." Clarke sighed. She should have expected he would have trouble understanding what the problem was. "She thinks you don't even like Lincoln, much less want her to marry him."

"Well that's not true at all. I like Lincoln."

Clarke ignored him. "Not to mention dropping this whole budget thing on her at the last second. Honestly, she didn't say anything about it but it feels to me like a last attempt to maintain control in this process and keep her dependent on you, even if it is only for a wedding dress."

Bellamy's face hardened. Maybe Clarke had been too harsh and let her own personal experiences cloud her judgement but she didn't think she was too far off.

"That's not true at all," he said. He folded his arms and squared his shoulders. Clarke didn't need to be a mind reader to know he was pissed.

"Then why did you just up and drop all this money all of a sudden? And why were you being such a pill during the fitting?" Clarke asked. "You literally glared at me everytime I gave a price."

"I glared because you were purposely grabbing dresses that didn't come anywhere close to the budget I gave. I don't appreciate your assuming I can't pay the amount I named."

So he was being such a jerk because she'd hurt his pride? He needed to get over himself. Even if he wasn't wrong about her questioning his budget, he didn't need to be so butthurt over it.

"What made those dresses not bridal even before you decided I was undermining your fragile sense of masculinity by picking under budget but still ungodly expensive dresses?" Clarke asked.

"My masculinity isn't fragile," Bellamy protested.

That was bullshit. Why else would he be threatened by his sister's being married and a female consultant assuming he didn't have money?

"My class security is."

Clarke laughed. "Well that's honest. But I guess that's kinda been your MO all day."

"Because Octavia, despite her penchant for bluntness, is too afraid of being married in a burlap sack to admit to herself when a dress is not quite right. I'm saying it so she doesn't have to."

Clarke had figured their childhood had to have made them a little co dependent, but really, he was almost as controlling as her mother. At least her mother's manipulations involved a little begging, Bellamy confidently asserted his right to be an authority in Octavia's life.

Bellamy shuffled closer to Clarke, forcing her to look up at him if she wanted to look him in the eye. "Speaking of honesty, are you going to explain why you weren't using my real budget?"

Clarke bit her lip. She wanted to get a little space from him, but that would show weakness. "It's complicated."

"The fact that you think I'm poor is not complicated," Bellamy retorted coolly. He must have realized just how close the two of them were because he backed up a touch. Clarke noticed with annoyance that he somehow didn't lose any of his authority as he did so.

"Well that was it partially." Bellamy raised an eyebrow at her. Clarke winced. She could have worded that better. "Mostly I don't like people throwing their money around in some desperate attempt to make other people dependent on them again."

Bellamy's face darkened. He took a large step back from Clarke, allowing her to no longer crane her neck to see his face. "Why do you keep assuming that's what I'm doing?" He sneered and for the first time, he looked ugly. "Project much, Clarke?"

Clarke's cheeks burned. She clenched her fists. He had no right to say that. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Don't I? Given the way you keep talking about O being dependent on me, I'm guessing she told you a little about our mom?" Clarke nodded stiffly. "Well, then I'm sure you understand why it's a bit difficult for me to see her getting attached to anyone other than myself, even Lincoln?"

"Yeah, because you're a controlling dick." Admittedly that wasn't professional, but nothing about this appointment was. And Bellamy had started it anyway.

Bellamy narrowed his eyes. "Because I'm the only person I know won't let her down and leave her devastated like mom did."

Clarke opened her mouth to protest that that statement did absolutely nothing to prove he wasn't a controlling dick and perhaps a narcissist. He held up a hand to stop her.

"However, I'm aware that no matter how unreliable other people may be, I can't remain the only person in her life."

"Obviously," Clarke said. She'd had just about enough of his talking down to her.

He gave her a stern look. Yep, definitely a teacher. "O had always begged our mom to marry whichever boyfriend she had at the time, no matter how bad the guy was just so that we could all go dress shopping. And that is why, when Octavia first met Lincoln, four and a half years ago," he looked pointedly at Clarke, "I started saving money for a wedding dress."

"Why Lincoln?" Clarke couldn't help but ask.

"He was the first guy I could see her marrying." He said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. But then his face hardened again.

"So don't give me shit about control when you're clearly fixated on whichever parent or guardian or whoever is weasaling their way into your life."

Clarke tried to be mad at him, but the day had already been too long. Instead she flopped down in one of the folding chairs that for some reason were always littered around the back of the store. "What gave it away?"

Bellamy plopped down next to her. "The fact that you're allergic to any sort of financial manipulation for one."

Clarke sighed. "It's my mom. She ODed for the first time a year ago and I took care of her. Ever since then, it's like she can't handle any shift in our dynamic and she's doing whatever she can to put us back to the standard mother daughter set."

"And you don't want that?" Bellamy asked softly. Clarke wasn't that sure how she'd gone from yelling at him to telling him her problems like they were at a slumber party and not in the back room at work, but surprisingly she didn't really mind.

"I just had to do so much, give up so much during her addiction, OD, and now her recovery. If everything just goes back to how it was, it's like she's ignoring all that. God, that sounds selfish." She put her head in her hands.

Bellamy rested a tentative hand on her knee and when she didn't protest, he gave her a little rub before pulling away. "Not really. If my mom came back and tried to pretend I was still her dependent son, I'd be pissed."

He did not need to be so understanding after she had accused him of basically doing the same thing to Octavia. It still kinda stung though that he was right. She had been projecting.

"But," he began. "Considering she's been your mom your whole life up until this point, maybe that's the only way that's the only way she knows how to be in your life. Raising a child can basically become your life. Maybe after going through an ordeal like that and having so much of her idea of herself in flux, she needs to be able to cling to her identity as a mother because not knowing who she is now terrifies her."

He had a point. Clarke could no longer see herself as just the obedient daughter in the relationship but that didn't mean her mother was ready to see Clarke that way. Clarke wasn't ready to pretend for her mother's sake, but she was willing to discuss it with her instead of just yelling at her for paying for things and making appointments for Clarke without asking her first.

"Is that what's scary for you then?" Clarke asked. She didn't want to make Bellamy angry again but he needed to resolve whatever issue he had with Lincoln, so that they could find Octavia a dress and finally end this appointment. "After your mom left, your entire world must have become Octavia. Who are you going to be when she has someone besides you in her life?"

Bellamy shrugged. "I guess. Octavia has always been the most important person in my life. Even when I've been dating someone, she was my priority. And now that's shifting. Which, don't get me wrong, is long over due, but you're right. It's scary because I don't know who I am if I'm not constantly organizing my life around her."

"You should find out," Clarke suggested.

Bellamy laughed. "And just how do you suggest I do that?"

"When was the last time you went on a date, Bellamy?"

"Dunno, year and a half ago, maybe."

"Go on a date, Bellamy. Meet up with friends. Go backpacking through Europe. Go on a date."

Bellamy scratched the back of his neck and looked around the room apprehensive. He looked on the edge of saying something, but all he said was, "Aren't we supposed to be finding a dress right now?"

That was definitely not what he had been intending to say, but he had a point so Clarke let it slide for the time being.

She sent him to wander around the room to see what caught his eye while she did the same. She ran across a few dresses that seemed interesting to her but none that were quite right. After a few minutes, she heard her name being whispered urgently a few racks away. Assumably Bellamy had found a dress.

Indeed he had. He beamed from ear to ear and presented her with a dress. "This one," he said.

The dress was covered entirely in a beaded overlay and had a fishtail skirt with a low back. Beaded spaghetti straps held up the plunging sweetheart neckline. The shape of the dress would hug Octavia's curves perfectly.

Clarke gave her approval and shooed Bellamy away to the consultation room.

Octavia was sitting right where she left her, talking on the phone to someone. When she didn't seem to notice Clarke's presence, Clarke knocked on the open door of the dressing room and held up the dress for her to see.

"The consultant's back now, so I've got to go, babe, but I'll see you tonight," Octavia said. She paused for a moment, listening to the person on the other side. "Love you too, okay, bye." She hung up the phone. "Sorry to make you wait."

Clarke laughed and stepped into the dressing room. "Considering your brother and I made you wait much longer, you're all good."

Octavia eyed the dress in Clarke's hand. "And this is the fruit of your labor I assume?"

Clarke nodded. "Try it on?"

"Of course."

Clarke helped Octavia step gingerly into the dress. "Was that your fiance earlier?" she asked as she did up the buttons on the back.

"Yeah, he texted me to ask how it was going a little bit after you left and I was still pretty upset so I just called him and we had a little talk about this morning."

"And did that help?" Clarke asked.

Octavia shrugged as well as she could in the sample dress. "He usually does. There's a reason he's a social worker. He's so much more patient with people than I've ever been." She looked down at the dress. "He told me to talk things out with Bellamy, but that's not really how we do things."

Clarke cleared her throat. Maybe she wasn't supposed to have told Bellamy about Octavia's meltdown earlier, but what choice did she really have?

"Yeah, about that," Clarke said. "Your brother and I may have had a little chat before the dress search commenced."

Octavia whipped around her head to look at Clarke. "You did what?"

"I didn't get too much into it. I just explained how his attitude wasn't just getting to me but also getting to you because of his whole not bridal thing. I'm sorry I said it without asking you. I shouldn't have gotten in the middle like that."

Octavia sighed. "I'm not going to lie, I'm a little bit pissed. But the logical part of my brain does recognize that I probably only would've brought it up to him in a giant meltdown the morning of the wedding."

Yeah, with the loving but somewhat volatile relationship between the two of them, Clarke would still bet on some spat happening between now and the wedding, but hopefully Octavia was right and this whole experience had helped them avoid an impending meltdown.

"You know, my talking to him about your feelings is not the same as your talking to him. He said some stuff to me about this whole thing that I think might help you feel better. You two still need to talk about all this." Clarke looked down at her watch. "And we've also been in here way too long and your brother should see the dress."

Octavia grudgingly agreed and the two of them made their way back into the consultation room.

Even though he was the one to choose the dress, Bellamy still insisted on covering his eyes. Octavia tried to stop him but he hushed her and told her to stand on the platform.

Octavia stepped onto the platform with her back to the mirrors. "You can open your eyes now," she called to her brother.

Bellamy lowered his hands and frowned. Clarke tensed. If he didn't like it, she was going to rearrange that beautiful face.

Octavia's mind seemed to be in the same place. She bit her lip as she looked down at her stone-faced brother. "Well?"

His frown deepened. "I know this probably isn't what you want to hear, O," Clarke was going to punch him, "but I love you too much to lie to you." Clarke should've decked him back when he yelled at her for calling him poor, "in truth, you look . . ." he trailed off as if he didn't quite know how to say it. As for Clarke, screw the beat down, she was going to murder the asshole just for making Octavia look so defeated and small in such a beautiful dress.

After a moment more of silence, Clarke couldn't take it anymore. "Spit it out already, dickhead."

Bellamy raised an eyebrow at her outburst before turning back to his cowering sister. "You look beautiful, O. I'm trying really hard not to cry right now because you look so grown up."

Instantly, Octavia's frown melted and a hesitant smile took over her face. "Really?"

Bellamy nodded. "Really."

"You're not just saying it because Clarke looks like she's about to throttle you?"

Bellamy laughed. "I think I can take her."

Clarke blushed. He probably didn't mean it that way, but she would like to see him try. Although, she might not have the chance now that she yelled at him and called him a dickhead.

Octavia turned back to the mirror and stared at herself for a minute. Clarke tried to figure out what she might be thinking but her slight smile gave little away. She really did think this was the right dress for Octavia and she was praying that Octavia did too. If she didn't, Clarke might have to give Anya her two weeks notice immediately because she was clearly no longer fit for this job.

Finally Clarke couldn't take it anymore. "Do you want to see it with a veil?"

Octavia nodded. Clarke slipped out of the room to go grab one of the standard veils for fittings that she thought would work well with the dress.

When she returned a few minutes later with veil and accessories in hand, Bellamy was standing up on the platform with his hands on Octavia's shoulders, and Octavia was crying. Clarke tensed instantly. What had that idiot done now? Honestly, things had been going well and now this?

"Everything alright over there?" Clarke asked.

The two turned to her, noticing her return for the first time.

Octavia nodded and wiped her eyes. "Yeah sorry. We were just having an important chat."

"I was just telling O some of the things you and I talked about earlier," Bellamy added.

So those were happy tears then. Thank god. As nice as the two of them were, Clarke was just about ready for this appointment to be over and she wasn't sure she could deal with any more setbacks.

She shooed Bellamy off the platform, so she could twist Octavia's hair and pin the veil. Once again, Bellamy insisted on closing his eyes to preserve the grand reveal. Once she finished draping the veil over the dress and had gotten Octavia turned around, Clarke called for him to open his eyes.

This time it was Bellamy who teared up. "I really think that's the one, O. It's perfect."

Clarke turned to a beaming Octavia. "So what do you say? Are you saying yes to the dress?"

Octavia laughed. "I think I am." Bellamy cheered and got up to hug his sister.

Clarke took Octavia back to the changing room to get dressed again. She would have to do a fitting for the dress but they would do that later. Octavia looked so much lighter than the last time they had been in the changing room.

Once Octavia was all dressed, Clarke sent them into the office to get the paperwork drawn up and to work out the payment details. The dress was nowhere close to Bellamy's budget but between the veil and alterations, the total would probably come out to forty-five hundred. Despite all the budget arguments, the two of them actually got through the whole payment process faster than Clarke had expected and she only just managed to catch them before they left.

"There you are," Octavia said when Clarke caught up to them at the front of the store. She threw her arms around Clarke and pulled her close. "Thank you," she whispered. "I'm not sure what would have happened if someone else had been working with us."

Clarke gave her a squeeze. "My pleasure." She pulled back and looked at Octavia. "I hope you have a beautiful wedding and a happy marriage. You deserve it."

Octavia beamed. "Thank you." Bellamy nodded and echoed his sister.

The two of them walked out of the shop and Clarke resigned herself to the fact that she had just let go of the hottest and most frustrating man she'd ever met.

She was about to go find Niylah when Bellamy burst back into the shop. She looked him up and down. "Is something wrong? Where's Octavia?"

"She's outside waiting. She's the one who made me come back actually."

"Okay, well, is there something I could do for you?" Clarke asked.

"Yeah, actually," Bellamy rubbed the back of his neck, "you know how you said I should try to find out who I was outside of Octavia?" Clarke nodded, not daring to hope about where this might be going. "You know, hanging out with friends, backpacking . . . going on a date."

Clarke held her breath. Was this absolute model of a man about to actually ask her out?

"I was wondering if you might want to try the date thing with me?" He looked into her eyes, waiting for her answer.

She wanted to break his gaze. It was too intense, too intimate for the setting. But she needed to play it cool. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Good. Send yourself a text from my phone."

Bellamy handed it over and Clarke put in her number and sent herself a text from his phone. "See you later then, Clarke."

As she was watching his perfect ass leave the store for the second time that day, Niylah walked up to her. "Who's Mr. tall dark and handsome?" she asked.

"So are you going to call him?" Niylah asked when the two of them were getting changed to go home for the day.

Before Clarke could answer her, her phone started ringing.

Clarke thought for a moment. Bellamy had asked her on a date because he was trying to find himself without his sister. He was adjusting to her independence. He was changing.

Niylah looked over her shoulder. "Aren't you going to answer it?"

"Yeah, I think I will," Clarke said.

She picked up the phone. "Hey, mom."

AN: Thanks for reading! I've been sitting on this story for almost a year now and it's one of my first times posting something that isn't a crossover so let me know what y'all think!