Rap. Rap. Rap.

Barely half-awake, eyes still tightly shut, Clarke dragged the covers up over her head, trying to will away the godawful racket that was interrupting her enjoyment of a well-earned Saturday morning lie-in. But it was not to be. Instead of stopping, the noise escalated, quickly growing from a gentle rap to a demanding knock, before finally working its way to a full-on thud.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

"Goddammit!" She shouted her frustration into the air and threw off the covers, leaping from the bed and racing out to the living room to see who the hell was so intent on waking her early on a weekend morning.

"What the fuck?" she muttered in surprise when she eyed her visitor through the peephole, finally opening the door to let in her best friend.

"Where were you last night?" Bellamy demanded, edging past her into the room without a single word of greeting.

"Huh? Well, I, uh…" Clarke's sluggish brain tried to come up with a plausible - if fallacious - reason why she hadn't shown up for the gang's usual Friday night drinks at Grounders Pub.

She needn't have bothered.

"Never mind that now," Bellamy said impatiently, already moving on. "This is more important."

"What is?" Clarke asked faintly, trying hard to keep up with this mystifying conversation.

He frowned, his face darkening with displeasure. "Octavia says I have no game!"

For a few confused seconds, Clarke simply gaped at him, and then her sleep-addled brain finally cleared.

"And this is why you needed to wake me up at the crack of dawn?" she fumed, making no attempt to hide her annoyance.

"Crack of dawn?" Bellamy's brow wrinkled. "What the hell, Clarke? It's already after nine."

He paused then, his eyes beginning to shift uneasily as though he'd just that moment taken in her appearance.

"Um… what's that you're wearing?"

"What the hell do you think I'm wearing? I just got out of bed!"

Which served to remind Clarke that she was standing in her living room with Bellamy, dressed only in her favorite sleepwear — a barely-there pair of sleep shorts and an extremely skimpy tank top that did almost nothing to contain her generous breasts.

She couldn't help the blush that rose in her cheeks, while Bellamy, his tan skin flushing, suddenly looked everywhere but at her.

He cleared his throat, side-eyeing her.

"So, uh… maybe you should put some clothes on," he said briskly. Exactly like he hadn't barged in on her while she was still in bed.

Clarke huffed in indignation as she beat a hasty retreat to her bedroom, where she grabbed the first items that came to hand. A pair of running shorts and a loose top, comfortable clothes for the warm summer weather. And at least now she was wearing underwear.

By the time she returned a few minutes later, Bellamy had made himself at home on one end of her couch. Nothing strange about that, since he'd sat there hundreds of times before.

"So what the hell is going on?" she said, dropping onto the other end with a sigh.

"I told you. Just because I'm not trying to pick up some new woman every time we're out drinking, Octavia claims I don't have any game." He shrugged. "But lately, it just… hasn't s\eemed liked that much fun. More trouble than it's worth."

"Okay," Clarke nodded. "That sounds… reasonable."

"Yeah, well, my sister isn't buying it. She insisted I just can't manage to close the deal anymore."

Clarke's jaw dropped. What was Octavia thinking?

If Bellamy hadn't been focusing on the bar pickups and hookups the way he used to, then that could only be by his own choice. Good grief! They all knew that all he had to do was smile at some woman and pretty soon she was practically drooling all over him. She'd seen it happen a dozen times.

"But if you just explained…"

He shook his head irritably. "She bugged me about it all night, no matter what I said."

Clarke frowned in confusion.

"So what brought this on now? I mean, why all of a sudden?"

"Who the hell knows? She's just won't get off my case. Yeah, first it was the no-game crap, and then she moved on."

"So… there's more?" What the heck had come over Octavia?

"Oh, yeah." Bellamy sighed. "It was somehowa big fucking deal that I couldn't remember the last time I had a date. As far as O's concerned, not only do I no longer know how to meet women, I've also totally forgotten how to date."

Clarke gaped at him. "But that's… ridiculous. Of course you know how to date. And even if you were, uh, rusty, it's a skillset that'll come back to you as soon as you need it again."

Of course, even as she said the words, Clarke's gut twisted at the idea of Bellamy maybe finding someone he actually wanted to date. It'd been several months since he'd dated anyone even casually — and Clarke would have been content to keep it that way forever.

Not that she'd ever in a million years dream of admitting it.

She shrugged. "So in the meantime, just ignore…"

He shook his head firmly. "Nope. Can't just ignore it."

Clarke squinted up at him. "No? So… what are you gonna do instead?"

"I'm gonna go on a date."

Her mouth dropped open in surprise as Bellamy began to fiddle with his phone.

"But…"

Whatever thoughts she may have had on the subject were interrupted by the ringing sound that began to emanate from the kitchen, where her phone lay on the counter, plugged into its charger.

Jesus! Who the hell else wanted to interrupt her leisurely weekend morning? Well, whoever it was was going to have to wait because Clarke was capable of dealing with only one mini-crisis at a time.

"Shouldn't you answer that?" Bellamy asked mildly, when she failed to move. "Maybe it's important."

"Oh, for god's sake," she grumbled, finally jumping up to silence the insistent ring.

"Hello!" she shouted impatiently into her phone.

"Hello… Clarke?"

It was a stereophonic greeting, the words emanating not only from the phone in her hand, but also from twenty feet away on her living room couch.

"Bellamy?" She wheeled around to find him from her spot next to the counter, but Bellamy wasn't looking at her. Instead, he was totally focused on the phone in his palm.

"Do you really have to ask? I was pretty sure you'd recognize my voice."

"Yeah, of course I do, but… why the hell are you using the phone when you're right here…"

"So, Clarke," he interrupted her quickly, and she was surprised to catch a sudden hint of nervousness in his tone.

She would really have liked to read Bellamy's face at that moment, but it was completely obscured by his hand and his phone.

"Yeah?" she said hesitantly.

"Uh, I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me tonight."

Clarke's heart began thump wildly. He couldn't be… Nope! No way!

"Uh… sure, of course. You know I always enjoy hanging out with you…"

"No! That is… I'm not asking for a hangout. I'm asking for… a date."

For a second, Clarke had a hard time catching her breath.

"You're calling on the phone… from across the room… to ask me on a date?"

She still couldn't see his face, but when she peered around her own phone she saw him shrug.

"Calling seemed like… the polite thing to do."

Clarke made a determined effort to slow her galloping heart, as she reminded herself that Bellamy was just trying to make a fucking point.

"So… just so we're straight. This is to prove to Octavia that you've still got all the date moves, right? And… you're asking me because I'm your best friend and you know I'll tell the truth about whether or not you do."

She held her breath as she waited for his response.

By now, he'd totally turned his body away, and she could see only the back of his neck and head. So all she had to go by was his voice on the phone. And at the moment he was silent.

Then she heard him sigh.

"I suppose you could say that," he said evenly. "But this is still going to be… a real date."

"Oh. Well. Sure, then." Her voice sounded faint even to her own ears. A real date? What the hell did that mean?

"Good," he said, and when she peeked around again she could see his head nodding. "So I'll, uh, I'll pick you up at seven."

"Right. Okay. Great."

Clarke rolled her eyes at her own idiocy. Could she think of no additional words of confirmation? How about… super duper awesomely fantastic!

The line went dead then, so Clarke put her phone down, took a deep breath, and hoped the next few moments weren't going to be somehow… awkward. He was still Bellamy, she was still Clarke, and she wanted them to remain best friends.

She pivoted slowly, pasting on a bright smile that turned out to be wholly unnecessary.

Things weren't going to be awkward. In fact, they weren't going to be anything at all for at least the next ten hours.

She caught only a brief glimpse of Bellamy's wave just as the door closed behind him.

XXXXXXXXXX

As soon as he left, Clarke headed directly to her Keurig for a much-needed jolt of caffeine. While her brain tried to sort out exactly what had just happened.

She and Bellamy were going on a date. That much was clear.

Everything else seemed murky as hell.

It looked like he was trying to change Octavia's mind about his recent social life, so of course, since she was his best friend, she supposed it was natural that he'd ask her to help him out.

But… that was the thing that made no sense! Why the hell should Bellamy think thatgoing on a date with his best friend would change Octavia's mind about… anything?

She sighed, content to let Bellamy worry about that. At the moment, Clarke was far more concerned about how she was going to survive this pseudo, and yet somehow at the same time real, date with Bellamy.

Considering that she'd known for months now that she was in love with him.

She might have appreciated the irony more if she weren't so damn sure she was going to end up with a broken heart.

Her head was beginning to ache as the questions continued to swirl around inside it. By the time she'd poured herself a third cup of coffee, Clarke knew she needed to talk to someone soon, before she either overdosed on caffeine or exploded.

Under any other circumstance she'd probably have chosen Octavia as her confidante and sounding-board. They'd been good friends since college, and it was Octavia who'd brought her into the friend group when she'd relocated after getting the art therapy position at the Arkville Clinic.

But then somehow, after she moved to Arkville, she'd fallen more and more into a close friendship with Octavia's older brother, the guy she'd heard about all through college but had never actually met. From the first, Clarke had been amazed by the ease of her friendship with Bellamy. How they seemed to just… connect. It had been comforting to have a friend who got her so completely.

So while her relationship with Octavia remained as cordial as ever, it was Bellamy who had eventually become the best friend she'd ever had.

And for a long time she'd enjoyed that friendship immensely.

Right up until the day a few months ago when she'd caught his eye across the room, and suddenly realized that somewhere along the way she'd developed deep feelings for Bellamy Blake.

Feelings that were in no way platonic.

The revelation had hit her hard, and she'd been shaken to the core. And since that moment, the only way she'd been able to deal with it all was… avoid, avoid, avoid.

Take last night.

Bellamy had asked why she hadn't shown up for drinks with the group and she'd been grateful that in the end he'd been too wound up about his grievance with Octavia to wait for an answer.

Because… what should she have said? I couldn't deal with another night of aching to be physically close to you?

Clarke sighed. Probably not.

And now — god help her — this. This… date.

At least it would be just the two of them. Strangely, she found it easier to deal with her feelings for him when they were alone. He was utterly oblivious, and she didn't have to hide how she felt about him from the others. Or watch him flirt with every new face that came through the damn door.

Clarke frowned.

Of course… now that she thought about it, wasn't that exactly what Octavia was saying he hadn't been doing? Not hitting on random females, not hooking up with them? That he'd somehow lost his flirt mojo?

It seemed to Clarke so damned unlikely.

On the other hand, since she'd been scrupulously avoiding any public group outings for weeks now, what the hell would she know?

Her head was beginning to spin again, and it became clearer and clearer that she desperately needed someone to talk to. Someone who wasn't a Blake.

XXXXXXXXXX

In the end, there was only one choice, only one person with whom she'd feel comfortable enough to bring up her impending "date." As casually as possible, of course, because she didn't want Harper getting the wrong idea. Even if it was, in fact, the right idea.

She'd only known Harper McIntyre since she started dating Monty Green shortly after Clarke herself had moved to Arkville. But she'd liked her immediately, thought her sweet and open nature a good match for Monty, who was Bellamy's colleague and good friend.

Clarke had never had a lot of close friends. Octavia Blake had been the exception rather than the norm. They'd been roommates freshman year of college, and had remained good friends until graduation.

But as she got older, Clarke had vowed to be more open to friendships, and she and Harper had hit it off immediately. In fact, just recently Harper had invited her on a shopping trip to the mall, and while Clarke had never been into a whole lot of "girlie" activities, she'd had fun with Harper, and had even managed to buy some new clothes.

So she'd hoped it wouldn't seem too strange if she suggested they have lunch at the new vegan place that Harper had mentioned wanting to try when the two of them had been discussing all the new restaurants that had opened lately in Arkville.

Clarke had been surprised at her interest. "Are you a vegan?"

"Nah," Harper had smiled. "But I like to try everything."

Clarke remembered wishing she could embrace new experiences with that much enthusiasm.

Besides teaching with Bellamy, Monty also played keyboard in a cover band. And since he spent most Saturdays rehearsing, Clarke figured there was a pretty good chance Harper would be free.

And so she was.

"What a wonderful idea," she enthused when Clarke called her. "Maybe we can stop by the mall again afterwards. I need some makeup."

"Sure," Clarke said, relieved that Harper had agreed. Now all she needed to do was figure out how to get Harper's feedback without actually letting on exactly what her problem was.

When they met up at noon, Harper was as upbeat as ever.

"This is great! I haven't seen you in forever," she said, hugging Clarke warmly.

"Has it really been that long?"

Had it really been that long?

Harper shrugged. "Yeah, I think so. Even Monty was saying we've hardly seen you lately. And we've definitely missed you at trivia night."

As soon as they were seated, Clarke picked up her menu, hoping to divert Harper from the topic of why she hadn't been around as much.

"Everything looks really good," she lied, having barely heard of most of the menu choices. Not that she had much of an appetite, anyway.

"Ooh, this lentil-walnut burger sounds awesome," Harper said, reading out the long list of toppings. "I think that's gonna be my choice. And some sweet potato fries." She smiled at Clarke. "How about you?"

"Oh, um…" The menu had been open in front of her, but Clarke hadn't focused on it at all.

"I guess I'll have the, uh, seasonal fruit salad," she said, choosing the first thing her eyes fell on that she thought she might actually be able to finish.

Harper frowned. "And that's it? Doesn't seem like much of a lunch. And you can get that anywhere. You sure you don't wanna try one of their specials?"

"No, this'll be perfect. I don't really want a big lunch."

"But you might get hungry…"

"I'm going out to dinner later," she said quickly, without stopping to think.

"Oh?" Harper was all polite inquiry.

"Yes," she said, nerves loosening the guard on her tongue as she babbled on. "With Bellamy."

Clarke had just enough presence of mind not to recoil in horror at having blurted that out, right out of the blue. Nevertheless, Harper's eyes glinted with speculation, and her smile widened.

"You're going to dinner with Bellamy?"

And all Clarke could think of to recover from her loose lips was… divert, divert, divert.

"So, Harper," she said quickly, "were you at Grounders last night?"

"Yeah," Harper frowned, clearly confused by the swift change of subject. "And you flaked again. Monty and I wondered…"

"So, uh… Octavia," Clarke broke in abruptly.

"What about her?" Harper blinked at yet another conversational shift.

"Bellamy complained that she was on his case all night. Bugging him about his, uh, social life or something. Wouldn't let it go."

"I don't know if it was so much his social life as his… attitude."

Clarke was surprised to hear this somewhat different version of events.

"His attitude? About what?"

The waiter came then, and after they ordered Clarke asked again, "What about Bellamy's attitude?"

Harper shrugged. "He just… well, lately, when we're all out together, it seems like Bellamy just kind of sits in a corner and drinks. Hardly says a word." Harper paused and eyed her curiously. "But I suppose you haven't noticed that since… you mostly haven't been around."

Clarke shook her head. "I don't get it. Bellamy has always been the life of the party, hitting on every hot girl in sight…"

"Yeah, he really hasn't been doing that at all anymore."

"He said he explained that to Octavia. That he's decided it's more trouble than it's worth."

Harper nodded. "Okay, I don't think anyone would argue with that. I mean, I could never understand why he was always picking up girls anyway, when…"

She stopped abruptly, eyes guarded as her voice trailed off.

"When what?" Clarke prompted.

"Nothing," Harper said, quickly redirecting the conversation. "But… that still doesn't mean he has to hole up by himself like some kind of… curmudgeon." She narrowed her eyes at Clarke. "I think maybe there's a completely different reason for that behavior. But… tell me, why are you asking me about last night?"

"Because Bellamy came by this morning all worked up because Octavia told him he had no game and didn't even know how to date anymore."

Harper burst into laughter.

"I'm pretty sure that's not exactly what she said. And, yeah, that would definitely be overstating it."

Clarke sighed. "Well, he's still really upset about it. That's why we're going out tonight, so he can prove he still knows how to date."

Harper stared hard at her. "Wait a minute. Bellamy told you he's taking you out just so he can say he still knows how to date?"

"Oh… well... no. He didn't actually say that. I just… I kind of assumed it. I mean… why else would he take his best friend out to dinner, right?"

She paused then to gather herself, and finally get to the crux of the matter. To the three words that had thrown her for a loop, and the real reason she'd invited Harper to lunch.

"Um… so, yeah, he did agree that maybe that was part of it, but then he also said that it was going to be," she swallowed, "a real date."

A huge grin spread across Harper's face. "That's more like it!"

"No. Harper," Clarke shook her head, "we're best friends, so how real can it be?"

"You can still be best friends, no matter what. And honestly," she gave Clarke a sympathetic look, "it seems to me things would… straighten out for the both of you if you'd just… let your guards down a little." Her face brightened. "But you did agree to go out with him tonight, right?"

Clarke nodded.

"Exactly!" Harper smiled at her. "And isn't that maybe why you wanted to talk to me today?"

Clarke squirmed, the guilt beginning to course through her. "I'm so sorry," she began, but Harper cut her off with a wave of her hand.

"Don't be stupid, Clarke. That's what friends are for."

The food arrived just then, and Harper picked up her lentil-walnut burger, taking a huge bite and pronouncing it delicious.

"Eat your fruit salad," she told Clarke, who stared at her doubtfully. "As soon as we're done eating we're going back to your place to pick out something fabulous for you to wear to dinner."

"I honestly don't think he'd even notice."

Harper rolled her eyes. "You gotta trust me on this one, Clarke. He'll notice."

XXXXXXXXXX

Clarke smoothed down the skirt of her blue-flowered sundress, wondering for the dozenth time if she should change into something a little less… obvious.

It was Harper who'd talked her into wearing it, pulling it from her closet with a flourish.

"Aha! I knew you'd bought something really hot when we were shopping last month. Can't waste a good opportunity to wear it," she'd insisted, ripping off the price tag that had still been attached.

Clarke had frowned. "Don't you think it's maybe a little… too much?"

"Too much for what? Wouldn't you wear this dress on a date with someone other than Bellamy?" When Clarke reluctantly admitted she would, Harper had shrugged. "Then you should wear it tonight. The weather's perfect for it, and after all he did say it was a real date."

So in the end she'd put it on, once again admiring how well it fit her small waist. How the skirt flared slightly before falling to just above the knee, showing off her shapely legs. And how the sweetheart neckline emphasized her cleavage just enough to look… enticing.

Clarke knew she looked great in it, which was why she'd bought it in the first place. But would wearing the dress look like she was… trying too hard?

She groaned, frustrated with herself for her endless second-guessing. She'd finally agreed with Harper that the sundress was the perfect choice and that was that!

Deep down, she knew her nerves really had nothing to do with the dress anyway, and everything to with the evening ahead. As long as she'd been convinced that it was all about helping out her best friend, she'd been prepared to grit her teeth and deal with it. But the very second he'd called it a real date, her emotions had gone haywire as her brain tried to figure out exactly what that meant for two people who'd up to now kept their relationship strictly platonic.

She'd hoped maybe Harper would talk her down by agreeing that of course a Bellamy/Clarke date couldn't possibly be for real. But that plan had totally backfired. Harper was completely convinced it was a real date. And though she'd never said so directly, Clarke was pretty sure she'd also figured out that Clarke was into Bellamy in a more than friendly way.

A glance at the clock told her that worrying about it further was pointless, because Bellamy, who was nothing if not prompt, was due in less than five minutes. She studied herself in the mirror one last time — noting the cascading blonde waves, the subtle makeup, and the sexy blue dress — and accepted that she was out of time and out of options.

However he might view her, this would have to do.

She'd barely finished the thought when she heard a gentle rapping at the door. Feeling like she was stepping onto the stage of some strange play where she'd never been given her lines, Clarke mentally crossed her fingers and opened the door with a flourish.

And was immediately glad she'd bothered with her appearance. Because Bellamy looked… amazing.

He'd not only shaved off his early-morning scruff, but sometime that day he'd even found time for a haircut. Not that it was short — Clarke couldn't imagine Bellamy with really short hair. But the wild dark curls had been shorn and tamed just enough to artfully frame his handsome face and provide a sharp contrast to his chiseled jawline.

Gone were his usual T-shirt and jeans, and in their place what Clarke thought of as Bellamy's teaching clothes… a pair of black pants and a bright blue button-down shirt, its sleeves rolled up to reveal his muscled forearms.

In short, this was Bellamy at his most attractive.

Clarke sighed inwardly. As if the damn date wasn't already going to be tough enough.

As soon as he saw her, his eyes lit up in what almost looked to her like real admiration.

"You look beautiful," he said.

"You, too," she returned the compliment, her cheeks reddening with embarrassment when she realized exactly what had just tumbled out of her mouth.

Bellamy huffed a laugh. "I don't think anyone's ever called me that before."

Yeah, maybe not to your face.

"Maybe you should bring a sweater or something," he suggested. "Just in case."

"Yeah, okay," she said, grabbing one from her coat rack. "Are we traveling all the way to a colder climate?"

He shrugged, smiling mysteriously. "Always best to be prepared."

She couldn't help her quiet chuckle because that was quintessential Bellamy.

As usual, he'd parked in the driveway on her side of the duplex that she shared with a young married couple. What was new was him rushing to open the passenger door for her.

She looked up at him in surprise. "You really don't have to do that, Bellamy. I'm, uh, just as capable of opening the door as I was the last time I got into your car."

"Yeah, I do," he insisted. "My mom always said I should open the car door for a date."

Clarke stared at him. "Your mom? Bellamy, you're thirty years old!"

He shrugged, not quite looking at her. "Doesn't mean she was wrong."

As Clarke settled into her seat, she began to wonder what other small surprises the evening might have in store.

They'd been driving in companionable silence for a while when she suddenly thought to ask,"So where are we off to?" She'd spent so much time worrying about the reason for the date that she'd given no thought at all to the details of it.

Bellamy side-eyed her, his lips turning up in that crazy-attractive half-smile that had recently begun to quicken her pulse.

"I made reservations at that new Japanese restaurant just outside of town."

Clarke gaped at him in astonishment. "Really? I've been wanting to try that place for ages."

"That's what I thought," he said, looking pleased with himself.

"Yeah, but… how did you know that? I don't remember us ever talking about it."

"Oh, uh, right. Well… I might have overheard you talking to Harper about restaurants," he said, the words spilling out quickly, his face flushing slightly as though he'd admitted to doing something unpardonable.

Clarke gazed him in surprise. That had been… months ago! It was the same conversation where she'd learned about Harper's interest in the vegan place. The whole gang had been at Monty's for game night, but she didn't recall Bellamy being anywhere nearby while she and Harper were discussing food.

"I was lucky to be able to get a reservation," he rushed on before she could question him further. "If they hadn't had a cancellation, I'd have had to substitute some other place, which would have sucked because I knew you really wanted to eat there…"

"Bellamy, that would have been fine," Clarke assured him. "We could have gone to Mexicali or La Dolce Vita…"

But he was shaking his head. "Nope. We've eaten at those places lots of times. This had to be something different. Something… new."

"Why?" Clarke was mystified.

"Well, uh…" his voice trailed off as he refocused on his driving, making the sharp right turn onto the main road out of the city. As they sped along the highway, Bellamy finally shrugged and said, "It's… a date, so it should be a little special, right?"

It had to be… special?

"You're really taking this date thing seriously," she ventured, warmed by his thoughtfulness. And thinking that maybe Harper had been right after all.

Bellamy side-eyed her, smirking. "Well, yeah. Wasn't that the whole point?"

And there it was.

Because of course, it was exactly the point. To prove that he knew how plan a proper date. Clarke's spirits deflated and she mentally kicked herself for forgetting that there was a reason she and Bellamy were in his car, looking their best, heading towards dinner at a fancy new restaurant.

And it wasn't because Bellamy had suddenly realized he couldn't let another Saturday go by without taking Clarke to dinner. It's not like he hadn't been completely upfront about that.

She sighed heavily, vowing not to let her imagination run away with her again.

"Something wrong?" he asked, taking his eyes of the road for a moment.

She shook her head. "Of course not. Just looking forward to dinner."

Bellamy smiled, reassured, and turned back to the road. "Good."

And Clarke told herself not to be such an idiot. That no matter what else happened that night, no matter what Bellamy said — or didn't say — she'd not let her disappointment show.

No matter how damn hard that might turn out to be.

XXXXXXXXXX

Kyoto was only a few miles out of town, so they got there in plenty of time to make their 7:30 reservation. Since it wasn't a terribly large place, and had immediately caught the fancy of local diners, Clarke could see why Bellamy felt lucky to have nabbed them a table.

The restaurant was basically one main room, with a few smaller alcoves around the edges for larger parties. As they were ushered to their table, Clarke could feel Bellamy's hand lightly pressed against the small of her back. She'd always rather despised that gesture, finding it old-fashioned and overly possessive. So it was odd that with Bellamy it somehow felt… reassuring.

She wondered if he was still working off his mother's strictures about date etiquette, or if this was simply who Bellamy was. Considering his protective nature, she thought it might be the latter.

It had been only a short walk to their table, but she immediately felt the lack of warmth from his large hand when he removed it to pull out her chair for her.

"More Aurora instructions?" she teased, smiling up at him.

Bellamy shrugged, the crooked half-smile coming into view. "I just… like to do this stuff. But I can stop if you want…"

"No," she shook her head, "I like it."

It feels special.

Not that she said that out loud.

Clarke made a determined effort then to just relax and enjoy herself. After all, she was sitting across the table from the person she liked most in the universe, and he was smiling at her in a way that made her heart stutter — even if he had no idea of his effect on her. In fact… better that he had no idea how he made her feel. There was a certain comfort in Bellamy being so oblivious, even more so since no one else was around to clock her responses to him.

As they dined on yellow tail sushi, miso soup, and Kobe beef, she tried not to feel guilty about how much the meal must be costing Bellamy. She was pretty sure he'd be offended if she offered to pay her share, and reminded herself that he had a good job and could well afford to splurge on the occasional fancy dinner for two.

The conversation flowed as easily as it always did between them, meandering over a wide variety of topics. Their friends, upcoming group events, what books they were reading, Clarke's personal art projects. Even Bellamy's progress on the novel he'd been writing off and on for years.

"So how's work?" she finally asked over their dessert of fried ice cream. Apropos of absolutely nothing, other than a desire to hear him enthuse about teaching.

Just like she'd expected, his eyes lit up as he began to answer.

"Sometimes the kids can be a real a pain in the ass, you know? But then other times, it's amazing how great it is when they finally get something, or ask a really good question. Makes me feel like I'm doing…"

"Doing what?" she prompted when he broke off abruptly.

She watched as a look of horror suddenly spread across Bellamy's face, before it quickly morphed into one of bland cordiality.

"Oh, shit," he muttered under his breath, so quietly that Clarke was certain only she could have heard him.

At that exact moment, from behind her, came a chorus of excited greetings.

"Hi, Mr. Blake!"

"I thought that was you, Mr. Blake."

"Ooh, are you on a date, Mr. Blake?"

"Kayleigh, Sarah… and of course, Chloe. What are you ladies up to this evening?"

As he asked the question, Bellamy's voice took on a tone of smooth good-natured detachment that Clarke had never heard from him before. She turned in her seat to see who had interrupted their meal, and didn't have to be a genius to realize it was a trio of Bellamy's students.

She gave them a friendly smile. "Hi, I'm Clarke. I'm a friend of Bellamy's. Uh, Mr. Blake's."

The tallest — and clearly the most outspoken — made no attempt to disguise her curiosity, blatantly inspecting Clarke from head to toe.

"His friend?" The girl snorted in disbelief. "Yeah, right."

"Chloe!" The short blonde hissed at her. "So not our business."

"So what's the occasion?" Bellamy asked again, his voice still pleasant, but Clarke knew him well enough to hear an edge that hadn't been there before.

"It's my birthday," the blonde rushed in to say, "so I asked my parents to take us all to dinner here. And it was great! So delicious."

"I agree," Clarke said cheerfully. "I hope you tried the fried ice cream."

"We did. Loved it!" The blonde smiled at her warmly, grateful, perhaps, that her friend's rudeness had been given a pass.

"Well, happy birthday, Sarah. I hope you've had a great day," Bellamy said politely.

Sarah nodded and smiled, turning to leave then, but it seemed that Chloe was not quite ready to go.

"So you never did say if this was a date, Mr. Blake," she whined, her arms crossed firmly in front of her, as though she was prepared to stand there for however long it took to get an answer.

Clarke was stunned by her gall, but then the third girl broke in, the one Clarke presumed must be Kayleigh.

"Oh, my god, Chloe," she muttered, accompanying the words with a slight shove towards the door. "You must be the nosiest bitch on the planet. Would you just leave the man alone!"

As Clarke looked on, slack-jawed with amused astonishment, the other two eventually cajoled Chloe away from their table and towards the exit, Sarah pivoting at the doorway to give them a final apologetic smile.

But when Clarke turned back to Bellamy, she found that he was not quite as amused as she was. In fact, he looked downright pissed off.

"I'm so sorry, Clarke. I hope you're not too upset."

"Upset? Oh, come on, Bellamy, that was the funniest thing ever!"

"But Jesus, Clarke! She was so rude to you!"

"Yeah. She was. And I'll bet she's now getting an earful from her two friends about how her crush has gotten way out of control."

Bellamy's face immediately went blank. "Crush? What crush?"

Clarke groaned. "Bellamy! How can you possibly be so oblivious?"

The irony was not lost on her, of course. Who better than Clarke herself to understand just exactly how oblivious Bellamy could be about such things?

He suddenly looked apoplectic.

"Oh, god, Clarke, don't tell me that! She's one of my students. Just a kid. I'd never think of her that way!"

Clarke reached across the table and grabbed his hands, trying hard to reassure him.

"Of course you wouldn't. I know that. This isn't on you. Teens get crushes on their teachers all the time. In fact, since it's… you, I'd bet my last dollar that Chloe isn't the first."

Bellamy sighed heavily, clearly dismayed. "So what should I do?"

"Not a damn thing. After a while, they move on to boys their own age. And of course," she added with a smirk, "eventually you'll get old and wrinkled and it won't happen anymore."

He huffed a laugh. "Now there's a cheerful thought."

Clarke grinned at him. "Just eat your fried ice cream."

"Oh, you mean this puddle?" he nodded sadly at his dessert plate.

Clarke looked down at her own plate, and was similarly disappointed, "Well, now I am upset," she said, mourning her lost sweet.

Sighing, she looked back up at Bellamy, surprising a look on his face that suddenly had her heart racing. But it was gone a moment later as he cleared his throat noisily.

"So what do you say I get the check and we can get the hell out of here? Maybe do something a little more interesting."

"Sure," she said, finding it impossible not to wonder what that might be.

It was only when he pulled back to signal the waiter that she realized they were still holding hands.

XXXXXXXXXX

Clarke was surprised when instead of turning left out of the restaurant lot to head back towards the city, Bellamy turned right, taking them even further out of town. As far as she knew, there wasn't much on this road for many miles past the restaurant, or at least nothing she could imagine as part of a "date."

She remained silent for a while, until finally she could stand it no longer.

"So where are we headed?" she ventured, all casual-like.

Bellamy smirked, glancing down briefly at the dashboard.

"Hey, Clarke, you lasted 7.8 miles before asking. Pretty damn good for someone who likes to know exactly what's going on every second."

She rolled her eyes, huffing a laugh.

"Yeah, okay. It's just that… there's nothing out here. Unless we're driving all the way to Polis."

"We're not. And there is something out here. You just need to know where to look. I just hope I timed it right."

Clarke's curiosity grew when he made a sudden sharp right, taking them up what looked like a mountain road. He side-eyed her, but Clarke held her tongue, determined not to ask again. Proving to them both that she had no problem with just… going with the flow.

After a few more uphill miles, the road widened and leveled off into a high plateau. Soon Bellamy slowed the car, pulling onto a wide verge on the left-hand side of the road and coming to a stop.

"Where are we, anyway?"

Wherever it was, Clarke was sure she'd never been there before.

Bellamy opened his door without giving her an answer, and Clarke followed suit, determined not to have him unnecessarily running around the car again.

But instead of getting out, he hesitated, frowning down at her feet.

"Can you walk over a little rough ground in those?" he asked, eyeing her sandals warily. "I never thought about your shoes."

Clarke regarded the comfortable cork-soled wedge sandals that she'd opted to wear with her sundress.

"Are we talking miles here?" Where the hell was he taking her?

He smiled and shook his head. "More like yards."

She lifted her hand, waving away his concerns. "Hey, I'm not that much of a lightweight," she assured him, hopping out of the car. "Lead on."

He reached for something in the back seat, then came around the car to quickly grab her hand.

"Watch your step," he cautioned.

Clarke tried hard not to react to the feel of her hand once again enclosed in Bellamy's much larger one. They may have been best friends, but hand-holding had never been a part of their normal routine.

His palm felt rough, callused… and reassuring.

They walked in silence, following a well-worn path that ran across the verge from the edge of the road into a sparsely-wooded area. After nearly stumbling in the waning light, she asked, "Is there a reason we had to trek through the woods just as it's about to get dark?"

"As a matter of fact, there is," he said. "And I think we caught it just right."

Clarke was more mystified than ever.

The wooded area soon gave way to a grassy knoll, and after a further few yards, Bellamy stopped.

"This is far enough," he said. "We don't want to get too close to the edge,"

And that was when Clarke realized that the grassy area ended at a cliffside that seemed to overlook the entire city.

"Wow!" she gasped in surprise. "What an amazing view."

"Just wait," he said, tossing down what he'd been holding in his other hand. "You ain't seen nothin' yet."

"You brought a blanket?"

He shrugged. "We may have to wait a while and I thought you might be more comfortable sitting. But the grass can be damp, especially at this time of day, so I brought the blanket. But if you'd rather not…"

"No, no," she said, lowering herself as gracefully as possible. "Good idea."

Clarke folded her feet under her and waited for whatever might come next.

When Bellamy dropped down beside her, she shivered involuntarily at the sudden sense of intimacy.

He was up again in a flash. "I'm just gonna grab your sweater from the car."

And how could she tell him that the goosebumps on her skin had nothing to do with the night air, which was still relatively warm, and everything to do with his proximity on that small square of blanket?

He was back in moments with her sweater, draping it softly around her shoulders. Then he threw himself down again, lying on his side this time, head propped on his elbow as he looked up at her with that potent half-smile.

Clarke's heart began to flip-flop as she felt herself become the sole focus of Bellamy's attention, with no competition from eating, or driving, or walking in the woods. Just the two of them on that blanket, surrounded by the fading night, waiting for… whatever.

She cleared her throat and forced herself to turn slightly away from his intense regard.

"This'd better be good," she teased lightly, not quite looking at him, "after all the buildup."

His smile widened to a grin. "I think you'll like it."

Clarke was so overwhelmed by Bellamy's prolonged physical proximity that she almost forgot to be curious. Then the light suddenly changed, and his attention was abruptly pulled away.

"Look," he said softly, sitting up and waving his arm toward the edge of the bluff. "Here we go."

She turned just as the light began to shimmer around them, and soon the whole sky was bathed in a warm yellow glow as the sun began to set over the city. They watched in silence as the sky turned pink and then darkened to an orange glow, finally fading out as the city below them began to twinkle with lights.

Clarke turned to find Bellamy looking not at the sky but at her.

"How did you find this place?" she asked, utterly charmed. "Were you scouting for beautiful sunsets or something?"

He snorted. "Hardly. It was… a long time ago. I was just a kid. And one night I got so pissed at my mom and Octavia — I can't even remember why now — I just slammed out of the house, got into this beat-up pickup I used to have, and started driving."

He threw himself back down on the blanket again as he recounted the story to Clarke.

"After a while, I found myself on this road, and I remember thinking I'd better turn around before I got lost because I knew it'd be getting dark soon. But when I stopped to turn I noticed that path we just walked down, and I got… curious."

"Shocking." She smiled down at him.

"Yeah." He grinned. "Anyway, it was about this time of year, and this time of night, and when I followed the path and saw that sunset, it was just… I don't know… calming. And ever since then, when I've got something on my mind that I can't figure out how to deal with, I come up here. It just… somehow it always makes me feel better. Gives me a little… perspective."

He shrugged. "I know I can't be the only one who's found this place, because… why would there be that path? But so far, I've never run into anyone else here."

He studied her carefully. "So you liked it?"

"It was beautiful," she said sincerely, her heart squeezing at the thought of a young Bellamy trying to comfort himself by watching a sunset. However beautiful.

Of course, she understood only too well.

Without even thinking about it, Clarke slid down onto the blanket to lie beside Bellamy.

"I kind of had a place like this growing up, too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said, turning her head to look at him. "There was a narrow brook that ran along one side of our, uh, property, with this really old, really enormous oak tree right at the edge of it. Sometimes… my parents didn't always get along so well, and when they'd fight I'd hide under that tree by the brook. And it just… I don't know, it kind of comforted me."

Bellamy had turned towards her, his face only inches away as it registered his understanding. And there was something else in that look that suddenly had Clarke's heart beating fast.

The silence thickened as the light began to die around them, until finally Bellamy spoke.

But it was just her name.

"Clarke," he said softly, as his hand reached towards her face.

And every alarm, every warning bell, every ounce of caution that had ever resided in Clarke Griffin's head were all of a sudden on full alert. If he did no more than simply touch her face, she just fucking knew she'd fall apart, and everything she felt for him would come spilling out.

That was all it would take. And she couldn't, she wouldn't, let that happen.

Clarke sat up abruptly.

"So is this your go-to date spot, then?" she asked hurriedly, striving for a tone of detached amusement.

"What?" Bellamy looked bewildered by the suddenness of both her movement and her question.

"You know, the place you bring your dates to, hoping to get lucky. Your, uh… primo seduction spot."

He sat up then, too, and as well as she thought she knew Bellamy, the look he gave her was entirely new, entirely unreadable. And when he finally spoke, his voice sounded… remote.

"I've never actually brought anyone else here, Clarke. You're the first. And as for… seduction…"

"No, no," she interrupted hastily, forcing out a laugh. "I was just teasing. I know you don't think of me like that."

And then she was up on her feet, carefully stepping off the blanket.

"Don't you think maybe we should go now? I mean, it's getting pretty dark."

"Right," he nodded, asking no questions, simply gathering up the blanket and fishing out his phone to light their way with the flashlight.

When they were back in the car, Bellamy was silent for a moment before turning towards her with a look of determined cheerfulness.

"There's a pretty decent pub down on the highway just past this road. Why don't we stop there for a drink?"

He started the car as he waited for her answer.

A drink? Oh, god, it was so tempting to reconsider, to extend their night together with something they'd done loads of times before.

But then she thought about that moment on the blanket, and what she'd learned from it. Which was that this evening had left her with very little control over her emotions. A drink — with the alcohol lowering her inhibitions and loosening her tongue — was just too damn dangerous.

She knew she couldn't take the chance.

"I'm… actually kind of tired, Bellamy. Do you mind just… taking me home?"

Bellamy stared at her, his face telling her nothing at all about what might be going on inside his head.

"You really want to go home now, Clarke? It's barely ten o'clock."

"Yeah, I know." She smiled at him weakly. "But don't worry. I'll give Octavia a good report about your dating skills."

He was silent for a moment, but then he nodded, putting the car in gear and pulling out onto the road.

"Great," he said, his face impassive. "That's the thing I was most worried about."

XXXXXXXXXX

As they crawled down the winding country road, it was so quiet inside the car that Clarke was sure she could hear the thrumming of her pulse.

She tried to convince herself that there was no reason why the atmosphere should have changed so rapidly, why the silence should feel so… heavy. But she knew that was bullshit. She'd broken that confusing moment of…of… connection between the two of them back there on that grassy knoll, and she'd done so harshly and deliberately.

Scared of her feelings, of her vulnerability where Bellamy was concerned — scared suddenly of not just having her heart broken but of having it crushed beyond repair — she'd pulled back so far, and so abruptly, that now she felt a distance between them that had never, ever been there before.

And as the silence grew, Clarke began to fear she'd shattered more than just that moment. That maybe the friendship she prized so highly was itself in danger of being fractured.

She cleared her throat, intent on easing the tension, on reassuring herself that she and Bellamy were still the best of friends.

"I'm sorry if I screwed up your date plan," she said lightly.

Bellamy failed to respond at first, focused instead on maneuvering the car from the mountain road back onto the highway. But then as he accelerated and began to speed towards the city, he sighed softly and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Don't be silly, Clarke." His tone was a model of cool detachment. "There's no point in you staying out with me if you're not having a good time."

"But I w-… that is, uh… it's not your fault, Bellamy."

He shrugged, taking his eyes from the road just long enough to give her a flicker of a smile. One that she noted did not reach his eyes.

"It's no one's fault," he assured her, his voice controlled and courteous. "It's just the way it is."

And there it was. It was… just the way it is. The way she knew in her heart of hearts it had to be. Because it was never going to be anything else.

"So you're not… upset with me for cutting the night short?"

"Of course not. You were doing me a favor," he said reasonably. "Why would I be mad at you?"

But still, there was something about the way he was not quite looking at her, about the careful courtesy of his voice, that filled her with unease.

Clarke sighed inwardly, her frustration rising. She'd been so damn sure that keeping their relationship safe, and on an even keel, had been all about successfully hiding her feelings from Bellamy. And as hard as it'd been, she'd done that. She'd managed it. But now there was this polite wall between them that seemed to have sprung up out of nowhere. And with every silent mile that passed, that wall seemed to grow thicker.

She'd just heard him say he wasn't mad at her, but it was very clear to her that something was wrong. Clarke stewed about it all the way back to her place, trying — and failing — to figure out a way to bring it up without making things worse.

By the time he pulled into her driveway and shut off the engine, she was a bundle of nerves.

He turned to her immediately.

"Just sit tight," he said, and the small smile he gave her seemed more genuine than any look he'd sent her way since they left the mountain.

Clarke felt a small burst of relief.

"More Aurora instructions?" The relief had her teasing him softly when he made his way around the car to open her door.

"Nope, this is just me, walking you to your door. Pretty sure that's happened before when I brought you home late."

And that was true. But tonight, the gesture felt somehow… different. Like more. Like Bellamy was bound and determined to carry on with his date moves right to the bitter end. No matter what.

She wanted to say… you don't have to bother, I understand we were just playing a game, so you can stop… pretending.

But the words felt stuck inside her throat, and she couldn't seem to get them out.

Instead, she walked as quickly as possible down the driveway, aware every second of Bellamy's presence at her elbow. When they reached the house, he was still so close behind her that she could feel his hot breath ruffling the curls along the back of her neck.

Clarke couldn't help the sigh that escaped her as she turned the key in the lock and quietly opened the door.

"What's wrong?" Bellamy asked, his slightly anxious voice very close to her ear.

"Nothing," she said quickly, turning to face him across the threshold. "Like I said, I'm just… tired."

Clarke cleared her throat.

"Thanks for dinner, Bellamy. It was delicious. And for the, uh… for the beautiful sunset."

Clarke groaned inwardly. Why the hell had she brought that up?

But Bellamy's expression didn't change, remaining curiously blank.

He nodded.

"I'm the one who should be thanking you, I think. You gave up your evening to, uh, help me out and I really… appreciate it."

Clarke felt a sudden lump in her throat, He… appreciated it. Appreciated her help with his project, his experiment, his fucking practice date.

She swallowed thickly, somehow managing a small smile.

"My pleasure," she assured him, trying to match his tone. "I'll tell Octavia she needs to stop giving you shit about dating."

"Right. Thanks." His voice was soft, but she thought his answering smile was a little wry. Like maybe she didn't really mean it.

"Really," she said, grabbing onto his hand, intent on making sure he understood that there was nothing wrong with the evening at all. It was her, all her.

"You were great. I had a really nice time."

Bellamy glanced down at her hand clasping his, then peered back up at her.

"So we're shaking hands these days, then?"

Clarke felt herself flush and pulled her hand away. Could this fucking moment be any more awkward?

"Of course not," she said, her small laugh strained, and then moved clumsily to give him the world's briefest hug.

Even then, it was still nearly too much. It was the closest she'd been to Bellamy all evening, and she could feel the enticing warmth of his body heat through the thin cotton of his shirt as he shifted to accept her sudden swift embrace.

She thought she heard his breath hitch when she forced herself to pull away, but then she realized that of course she was the one who must have made that sound.

Not that it mattered. By then, all Clarke cared about was finding a way to end this painful moment.

She smiled brightly, determined to part with Bellamy on a positive note. "So it all worked out fine. You got what you needed from tonight."

For a few seemingly endless moments he merely stared at her, silent and unmoving. And then he blinked, as though coming back to life.

"Of course," he agreed softly. "You're right. What I needed."

When he sighed, she thought maybe he was finding the moment awkward, too. After all… how do you end a date that isn't really a date? Even with your best friend? Maybe especially with your best friend?

"You've already said you're tired," he said suddenly, "so I should go. Good night, Clarke."

And with that, he was gone so quickly that only seconds later she found herself alone in her living room, staring blankly at her closed door.

For a moment or two, a stunned Clarke focused hard on just breathing, on not letting the tears spill, the ones that were beginning to prickle behind her eyes.

With a resigned sigh, she swiped at her face. What the hell else had she expected, anyway?

She told herself she'd feel better once she changed her clothes and crawled into bed, but she'd barely left the room, had got only as far as kicking off her shoes, when there was a loud knocking at her door.

Jesus! Now what?

Clarke marched back across the living room and threw open the door, only to find Bellamy standing there, a determined look on his face.

"Bellamy! Did you forget something?"

"Yeah," he said, moving quickly across the threshold, shutting the door behind him before pulling her into his arms. "I forgot to do this."

And then he was kissing her.

Gently, just at first. Almost…hesitantly. But then, when she didn't object, or try to back away, he deepened it, tightly gathering her to him .

And while Clarke might have been momentarily startled, she could no more have pulled away from Bellamy's kiss than she could have stopped breathing. Indeed, she sank into it utterly, and soon was answering every small movement of his mouth and tongue with one of her own.

Their arms snaked around each other, and in moments their bodies were twisting and turning as they clung together, hands stroking, soft caresses becoming more and more frenzied.

In no time at all, Clarke's body had begun to feel like it was on fire.

"God, Clarke," Bellamy finally dragged his lips from hers with a groan, wrapping her in a strong embrace and burying his face in her hair.

Aroused and trembling, clutching at his waist, not quite believing what had just happened, Clarke drew back just enough to look up at him.

"I… you kissed me," she said wonderingly.

"Yeah, I did." A confused half-smile had bloomed across Bellamy's face. "I've wanted to do it all night. And you… you kissed me back. So then… why the hell did you run away on the mountain?"

She stared up at him, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as she considered how to answer him. And realized there wasn't any point in not being honest

"I guess… l just didn't want to be your practice make-out."

"My what?"

She gave a little shrug.

"You know, your practice make-out on your practice date."

Bellamy frowned, small parallel wrinkles forming between his eyes.

"What the hell does that mean?"

Clarke waved her hand around in frustration.

"You remember. You only asked me out to prove something to Octavia…"

"No!" he cut in, shaking his head. "That's what you said about it. And yeah, maybe I did want to show Octavia she was full of shit," his eyes locked on hers, "but I fucking know I told you it was a real date. Real. Not… pretend, or whatever the hell you just called it. And then you… when I got here and saw you in that dress — god, you looked so damn beautiful I could hardly look at you without…" he sighed, "never mind. But I was so sure you understood."

"You really thought I looked beautiful? You weren't just being… polite?"

"Jesus, Clarke! You're always beautiful, but tonight especially… and I… maybe I should have said something more, but… fuck! I'd already asked my best friend on a date and I didn't want to… overwhelm her."

"Overwhelm me?"

"Yeah," Bellamy sighed, clutching at her arms. "With feelings." Adding, as though she might have somehow misunderstand, "My feelings. For you."

Clarke's heart had begun to hammer, and her words came out on a soft breath. "You have… feelings for me?"

"I do," he said, rubbing his thumbs up and down her arms and giving her that well-loved lopsided smile. "I have for a while now. And tonight — at the restaurant and while we were watching the sunset — I was hoping… it felt like maybe we were on the same page. But then you… you just ran away, Clarke. So I thought I must be wrong. That you didn't think of me like that after all. And when you wouldn't even go for a drink, I was afraid I'd totally screwed up our friendship." He sighed heavily. "And that would have been the worst thing of all."

Clarke smiled softly as she reached up to caress his cheek.

"You haven't screwed up anything. You… couldn't." She paused to consider what he'd just told her. "So then… I don't get what made you come back just now and… kiss me like that. If you thought I wasn't interested."

He huffed a laugh. "I just figured… what the fuck have I got to lose? You were never gonna go out with me again so this was my one chance to find out what it was like to kiss you. I told myself that if you got… really pissed at me, I'd just laugh it off as a, um, good night kiss."

Clarke couldn't help smiling at the absurdity of this. "Yeah, that would've been a real convincing argument after you'd already left here."

Bellamy's smile was wry as he conceded the point. "So maybe I wasn't thinking too straight."

"No?"

"No." He sighed. "You know it's pretty damn scary to finally figure out you have no interest in dating anyone because you're already in love with your best friend. I didn't know what to do about it. Especially when it started to feel like you were… avoiding me."

He… loved her?

"Oh, god, Bellamy, I'm so sorry about pulling a disappearing act. But, yeah, I do know exactly what that feels like," she told him, her voice soft. "And some of us, when we get scared like that… we just kind of retreat…"

"You do know? So does that mean… we're on the same page after all?"

She rolled her eyes at him, laughing softly. It was hard for her to believe he still hadn't figured it out.

"Did you not get a clue from the way I was kissing you just now? I mean, I thought I was being pretty obv-"

But he cut her off then with another searing kiss, and soon they were once again entangled in each other's arms.

It was Clarke who eventually pulled away this time, gasping for breath.

"My legs are getting a little tired standing here," she said.

Bellamy blinked. "Oh. Yeah. You did say you were tired. I should probably leave and we can pick this up some other time…"

"Leave? You want to leave?"

"Christ, no! I don't want to leave, but if you're tired…"

Clarke sighed. "Have I fallen in love with a complete idiot? Bellamy, I was just suggesting a slight change of, uh, venue. Like… down the hall maybe."

She jerked her head in the direction of her bedroom.

"Are you sure? I don't want to rush you. I mean, it's still our, um, first date…."

"Hmmm. That's really sweet," she said, her lips twisting into a smirk. "And we've known each other how long now?"

Bellamy squinted at her. "Three years, maybe?"

"And you've had these… feelings for how long?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Six months? Maybe longer? It's hard to really pinpoint it—"

"Bellamy!" She broke in, finally losing patience. Because now that they'd finally figured it out, what reason was there to wait? Besides which, Clarke was so turned on she didn't want to wait, didn't think she could wait.…

"If you're not in my bed fucking me in the next five minutes, I may have to rethink this whole relationship."

For a moment, Bellamy simply stared at her, a shocked expression on his face, but then his face broke into a huge grin.

"You don't have to tell me twice," he said, reaching down to hoist Clarke into his arms.

Clarke yelped in surprise, then clung to him, giggling, as he carried her down the hall to the bedroom and dropped her gently onto the bed. And it wasn't long before those giggles became pants and moans. And happy little gasps.

As it turned out, Bellamy easily met her five-minute deadline, and Clarke didn't have to rethink the relationship after all.

XXXXXXXXXX

Much later, as they lay on the bed, arms and legs tangled as they recovered from yet another round of lovemaking, Clarke suddenly thought of a question she really wanted an answer to.

"So… all that stuff about Octavia calling you out, saying you had no game and didn't know how to date? Was that all just a bunch of bullshit to get me to go out with you?"

Bellamy laughed softly, pulling her even more tightly against him to kiss the top of her head where it lay nestled along his shoulder.

"Nope, all that really happened. But I think… when I first decided to come here… it was mostly just me wanting to complain to my best friend about my pain-in-the-ass sister. Because you've been my go-to person for that kind of stuff for a long time now."

"Okay. But then later, when you did that ridiculous thing… calling me on the phone from across the room…"

"Yeah, that was kind of an impulse. Taking advantage of the circumstances. Because it suddenly occurred to me… when would I ever have a better excuse for doing what I really wanted to do anyway?"

Clarke nodded, her silky hair sliding across his bicep. "That was a good impulse."

"Yeah, I think so, too," he said, angling his head down to kiss her softly.

Her body stirred, and her lips responded. Again.

XXXXXXXXXX

Much, much later, just as she'd begun to drift off, Clarke was startled awake when Bellamy suddenly sat straight up in the bed.

"What is it?" she asked, concerned. "What's wrong."

He turned to look down at her.

"Oh, uh, sorry I woke you. No, nothing's wrong. I just had a thought…"

"A thought about…?"

"Um… do you think maybe Octavia just said all that shit to get me to do something about you? That maybe… she knew?"

"Like… a gentle nudge?"

Bellamy huffed a laugh, sliding back down onto the bed and pulling her into his side.

"My sister doesn't do gentle nudges, but… yeah, that's kinda the idea."

Clarke yawned sleepily.

"Maybe so," she said, settling happily against him. "We can call her in the morning and thank her for being a bitch to you."