Chapter 32
Although her back felt a little stiff, Clarke managed to wake up on Christmas morning feeling . . . not too shabby. Sleeping back in Bellamy's old bedroom with him brought back memories, so even though that bed of his wasn't technically meant for two (and they'd had to fit three counting the baby), it'd been kind of nice.
"Merry Christmas," Aurora said to them when they came out of the bedroom that morning. Octavia was already awake, too, inspecting the presents under the tree, probably scoping out her own.
"Merry Christmas," Clarke returned, yawning a bit.
"Did you guys sleep well?" Aurora asked.
"Yeah," she replied, "not too bad."
Behind her, Bellamy grunted, and when he started talking, it was clear that he hadn't found the night as nice as Clarke had. "It was awful," he bemoaned. "One minute she's too hot, then the next she's too cold. She's been on one side, and then she turns over on the other side. Or if she's on her back, then her arm just flings out and whacks me in the head. And when she finally does get comfortable, then she's gotta get up and go to the bathroom. Comes back to bed, starts the whole damn thing all over again." He rubbed his forehead, eyes closed, and groaned, "It's just constant movement all night long, like sleepin' next to a fish."
Clarke shot him a warning look. A fish? A fish?
Bellamy interpreted her look quickly and forced a smile tacking on, "And it's fun," so as to avoid her pregnant wrath.
"Aww, listen to him, lying so he doesn't upset you," Octavia remarked. "He's gonna make a great husband."
Truthfully, Clarke did feel bad, because she knew she wasn't the easiest person to sleep next to these days. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I don't mean to be such a pain. It's just . . . it's so hard to get comfy."
"Well, here, this might help," Aurora said, moving a big box around from the back of the tree to the front of it. "Open it up."
The box looked too heavy to lift, so Clarke took a seat on the couch and waited for Bellamy to bring it over to her. "Aurora, you didn't need to get me anything," she said.
"Oh, just stop that," Aurora said, taking a seat in her recliner. "I hope you like it."
Clarke began to open her very large gift as Bellamy plopped down next to her, looking like he could just fall back asleep at any minute. When she opened the box flaps and felt what was inside, it was . . . soft. Like a pillow. And when she pulled the pillow out, it wasn't just any ordinary pillow. It sort of unfolded and expanded and became this full-body pillow. "Oh my god, it's a pregnancy pillow!" she exclaimed.
"Thank God," Bellamy mumbled.
"I've been wanting one of these." Clarke had to stand up to lift the whole thing out of the box. It wasn't too heavy, but it was quite long, and it curved around sort of in the shape of a C or a G. She'd seen pictures online, and all the women sleeping on it just looked so damn relaxed.
"You curl up with that and you'll feel a lot comfier," Aurora assured her, "trust me."
"Thank you so much." If she'd had more room on that couch, she would have curled up right then, but she'd settle for just sort of cuddling with it, feeling the soft pillow against her tummy and looking forward to some more restful nights from here on out.
"Yes, thank you," Bellamy told his mom emphatically.
She smiled at him and said, "Now maybe you'll both sleep easier."
There weren't a ton of presents under the tree, so opening them didn't take too long. But Aurora did insist that they go one at a time, so that she could see what everyone ended up with. Her favorite gift seemed to be a heartfelt one from her children. They'd both gotten her one of those little mom books, where they'd jotted down memories and inside jokes and things they loved and admired about her. It brought tears to her eyes, to the point where she said she'd have to look at the book in private, otherwise she'd become a blubbering mess.
I hope my daughter loves me that much, Clarke thought. Aurora had done so well as a single mom, with no help from anyone. It was pretty damn inspirational.
Clarke loved her other gifts, too. Octavia got her a couple of nice and actually fashionable maternity shirts, which she knew she'd be needing more of soon, and Aurora also gave her some lotions and shower gels from Bath and Body Works. Bellamy got her a soft white bathrobe, which she'd expected because he'd made several remarks lately about how her old one was kind of gross, and he also got her a gorgeous snow globe that had the word Love on the inside. In addition to that, he got her this beautiful bracelet that had both of their initials engraved on the inside. She put it on right away and didn't intend to take it off all day.
Being the only guy, Bellamy's gifts were a little different. Clarke gave him the poker set she thought he'd love, only to find out that he didn't actually know how to play poker and had only been talking about it with some of the guys because he wanted to learn. But it wasn't a total bust of a gift. Now he had chips to learn with. Besides that, she also got him a beard-grooming kit, one that Raven had helped her pick out, and he loved it. He said something about being a part of beard culture, and Clarke kind of just had to laugh, because she always found it funny how proud Bellamy was of his facial hair. It did make him look very rugged and sexy.
Clarke was on pins and needles when it came time for Octavia to open the gift she'd gotten her, because if there was one person in that family who would be openly critical, it would probably be the youngest Blake. But when she unwrapped her blanket—which was very soft and colorful and had a picture of one of the Greek goddesses on it—she beamed with joy. "Clarke, this is beautiful. I love it," she raved, tossing it around her shoulders. "And you know what? It'll look perfect draped over the back of Lincoln's couch."
"You still think you're moving in there, huh?" Bellamy said.
"I am," she claimed. "Mom okayed it last night."
"What?" he spat. "Mom!"
"She's eighteen, Bellamy," Aurora reminded him.
"Ha." Octavia stuck her tongue out at her brother, like a child.
"I can't take this," Bellamy decided. "I need another gift to distract me."
"Here." Octavia handed him a small and not so elegantly wrapped box. "This one's from me. Don't worry, I got you more than one thing."
Unlike his mom, who liked to take her time unwrapping and save the paper for next year's gifts, Bellamy tore right into his. He ended up chuckling as he took a coffee mug out of the box. It was plain white, but it said Look at you becoming a dad and shit on it. "Where'd you get this?" he asked.
"Online," Octavia answered. "Do you like it?"
"Yeah, I do. Thanks, O."
Clarke smiled at Octavia. It was a good gift. Bellamy didn't really drink coffee, but he'd use that mug. "I got you something Dad-related, too," she said, handing him a gift bag. "This one's slightly inappropriate, but nothing too bad."
Bellamy dug right into the sack and pulled out a simple grey t-shirt that had four simple black letters printed on the front. Again, he laughed, and he held it up and read what it said. "DILF."
"What's a DILF?" his mother asked.
"Dad I'd like to . . . you know," Clarke said, a bit embarrassed now that she'd let Bellamy open this one in front of his family. "You do know, don't you?"
"Oh, I get it now," Aurora said.
Grinning, Bellamy put the t-shirt on over his current one and said to Clarke, "I should've gotten you a MILF shirt. Because that's what you are."
"Ew, can we not?" Octavia said, cringing. "I ate Christmas cookies last night, and I really don't wanna throw them up."
Clarke blushed, making a mental note to tell Bellamy later that she wouldn't mind a MILF shirt if he did indeed decide to get her one.
...
Christmas morning was done. Simple. No stress. And as much as Bellamy would have loved to stay at his mom's all day, maybe even hunker down for a little holiday nap that afternoon, he couldn't. They were obligated to go over to Clarke's mom's house and spend half of the day there, too. It was only fair, he supposed, but still . . . he wasn't exactly looking forward to it. And neither was his sister, judging by the way she questioned, "You think this part of Christmas will be as relaxing as our morning was?" while they unloaded presents from the car.
"Not a chance," Bellamy said with certainty. Abby would probably say something or do something, just like she always did, to make him feel tense. Or judged. Or both. But he could put up with it just so Clarke could spend Christmas Day with her mom, too.
Glancing at his girlfriend, he noticed her struggling to haul her huge pregnancy pillow up to the front door. His mom was trying to help her, but they looked like they were carrying one of those Chinese New Year's dragons on their shoulders. "Clarke," he said. "I don't think that thing's . . . portable."
"I wanna show my mom," she said stubbornly.
Shaking his head, he said, "What my Princess wants, my Princess gets," and handed a couple more presents to Octavia to carry. He intercepted Clarke and his mom and took the whole pillow from them. "Here, I got it." The thing was massive, and it blocked his whole face as he carried it in addition to a few gift bags. He couldn't really see where he was stepping, so he just followed them up to the front door.
They rang the doorbell and waited. Here we go, Bellamy thought when the door opened.
"There you all are! Finally!" Abby exclaimed. As if they were running late or something, which they weren't. "Merry Christmas."
"Hi, Mom," Clarke said, hugging her.
"Hello, Abby," Aurora said, doing the same.
Bellamy, with his arms full, wasn't in much of a position to hug anyone, and he wouldn't have hugged Abby even if he had been. "Hi, Mrs. Griffin," he said from behind the pillow. He couldn't even really see her all that well.
Having learned a few things over the past few months, Bellamy had developed a plan of attack for Christmas with Abby Griffin, one he intended to stick to. His plan was to just hang back and not say much to her, because the less he said, the less of a chance he had of upsetting her. Hopefully Clarke would be able to keep her sufficiently entertained. Plus, Kane's mom was there, so maybe Abby would be on her best behavior for her own future mother-in-law.
Clarke didn't even know she was on Abby-entertainment duty, but she was doing a hell of a job of it as she set out her pregnancy pillow on the floor and demonstrated how she could curl up on it. "Look, see, so I can just lay on it just like this," she said. "Isn't that great?"
"It is," Abby agreed. "I never had a pillow like that back when I was pregnant."
"Me, neither," Bellamy's mom agreed.
While Clarke raved about her pillow, which was her obvious favorite gift so far, Bellamy pretended to be all interested in looking at the decorations on the tree with his sister. The oldest ornaments seemed to be from when Clarke was a baby herself. Baby's first Christmas, that sort of thing. There were a lot of newer ornaments, though, too, ones that didn't hold any sentimental value and were just hanging up there to look good.
"So what do you think about this silver tree?" Octavia asked him quietly.
"No comment," he replied. It looked like tin foil.
"Like she's too good for a regular green one." Octavia snorted and rolled her eyes.
"It's fine," he said. "Better than those red trees they put in the White House."
"What now?"
"Yeah, didn't you hear about that?"
Octavia shrugged.
"Do you ever watch the news?"
"I try not to," she said. Seemingly bored with the tree, she started looking around the rest of the expansive house. Bellamy wondered if she was thinking the same thing he'd thought when he'd first seen this place years ago: It was huge. Ridiculously huge. Their whole house could practically be swallowed up by this living room and kitchen alone.
"Hmm," Octavia said. "I've never actually been inside this house before."
"You should see her dad's place," Bellamy told her.
"Bigger than this?"
"He has an indoor swimming pool."
"No way."
"And a movie theater," he added.
"Shut up."
"I'm serious." Hell, Jake's job was one of those fancy engineering ones, though. He'd gone to college for practically a million years to get where he was today. Bellamy couldn't really hold it against him, or even against Abby, for that matter. They'd put in the work to own the homes they did. It just kind of sucked that someone like his mom, who was the most hardworking person he knew, wouldn't ever be able to afford a place even half as nice as this.
"You must be talking about my ex-husband's house," Abby said as she sidled up to them suddenly.
Oh, shit, Bellamy thought. The plan had fallen through. Clarke hadn't been able to keep her mom distracted.
"It is a little over-the-top," Abby agreed. "He barely even ever swam in our swimming pool when he lived here. I don't know what he needs an indoor one for."
Just don't say anything, Bellamy told himself. Abby could drag her ex-husband all she wanted to. He just wouldn't respond, because . . . well, because he liked Jake better than her. Even if Jake wasn't his number one fan, either.
"What do you think of the tree?" Abby asked them.
"It's . . ." Octavia must have had a hell of a time biting her tongue, because she wasn't the type of person to do that. But she forced out a, "Lovely," which Bellamy was grateful for.
"Thank you," Abby said. "I think so, too. I would imagine Jake went the traditional route."
"Yep," Bellamy said. And hell, as far as Christmas trees were concerned, traditional was better. "His tree looked nice, too."
"Hmm." Abby folded her arms across her chest and said, "You know, he called me the other day, told me some interesting news."
"Oh, yeah?" Bellamy sensed where this was leading.
"Yeah. And I believe you already know about it."
He definitely did.
Octavia must have sensed that it was time to get the hell out of range, because she said, "Hey, Clarke, show me your pillow again. That thing's awesome," and scampered away from the tree.
Left alone with the woman, Bellamy felt like he had no choice but to carry on the conversation. "So he told you," he said.
"Yes."
He nodded, not sure what else she expected him to say about it. "She's not as far along as Clarke is," he informed her.
"But she is pregnant." Abby sighed dramatically. "Nice of you and Clarke to tell me, by the way. Maybe you could've given me a little forewarning before he sprang the news."
"Clarke didn't wanna be the one to tell you," he tried to explain.
"I would've rather heard about it from her."
"Well . . ." He couldn't exactly act all apologetic, because he thought it was Jake's responsibility to tell her. "Now you know."
"Yeah, now I know." Abby lowered her head, looked down at the floor, and mumbled, "The man I once stood up at the alter with and exchanged vows with is having a child with someone else."
For a split second, unbelievably, Bellamy actually did feel bad for the woman. Because even though she'd been divorced for years, that couldn't be easy. He remembered what it'd felt like to hear that Clarke was pregnant with someone else's kid. At first, even though he'd congratulated her on it, he'd felt pretty bad for himself. Maybe Abby was feeling the same.
"Clarke's gonna be a big sister," she went on. "Or . . . half-sister, I guess."
"Octavia's my half-sister," he reminded her, pretty sure she already knew that since Arkadia was such a small town and everyone ended up knowing everything about everyone else. "It doesn't really matter. I love her just as much as I would if we had the same dad."
"And I'm sure Clarke will love her brother or sister, too," Abby said. "I'll just have to . . . adjust."
Yeah, she would. So hopefully she'd be willing to. "Jake's happy with Alyssa," he told her, even though he wasn't sure whether or not he should say it. He just felt like defending Clarke's father a bit, because he wasn't a bad guy. And again, he liked him better. "Just like you're happy with Kane," he added, drawing a parallel, and then, even though it went against his plan, he tacked on, "Just like Clarke's happy with me," before heading over to scoop his girlfriend up off her pregnancy pillow before she got too comfy and fell right asleep. Maybe it wasn't what Abby wanted to hear, but it was the truth.
...
Clarke had only met Kane's mother once, and it'd been two Christmases ago, back during the first year that he and her mom had begun dating. Last year, Vera Kane had been in the hospital after slipping and falling on the sidewalk right outside her own house. This year, she was well enough to join them, but as far as Clarke knew, her health still wasn't great. She was napping when they showed up, but around 3:00, Kane told Clarke she could go check on her, see if she was awake and ready to join them. So Clarke went to the downstairs guest room—they hadn't put her in the nicer, bigger upstairs one because the stairs were too hard for her—and knocked on the door quietly. "Vera?" she called. Slowly opening the door, she peered inside and found the short woman sitting on the side of the bed, combing her hair. She looked bigger than Clarke remembered, but then again, Clarke knew she was bigger, too.
"Hi, Vera," she said.
"Oh, hi, Clarke." Vera set her brush down and tried to stand up, but she wasn't quite able to do it.
"I wasn't sure you'd remember me," Clarke said, nearing her bedside.
"Of course I remember you," Vera said. "I'm not that senile."
"No, I just mean . . . it's been a while," Clarke said. "And I was also a lot less . . . round back then."
"You look beautiful," Vera told her. "Congratulations."
"Thank you." She wasn't sure whether her actual grandparents on either side of the family knew about her pregnancy yet, but they probably wouldn't be too happy about it. Both sets of her grandparents were pretty traditional and conservative. They hadn't been pleased to find out she was bisexual, and they wouldn't be pleased about this, either. But at least Kane's mom was happy about it. She was such a nice woman, a former minister and everything. But she wasn't one of those overly-judgmental zealots who looked down on people. She was . . . accepting.
"Do you need any help with anything?" Clarke offered her.
"Actually, I could use a little help getting up," Vera said.
"Sure." Clarke grabbed hold of the woman's arm and helped pull her to her feet. Poor Vera had to hold onto her for support, with crooked fingers. "Thanks," she said. "Arthritis makes things hard."
Clarke gladly helped Vera out of the bedroom and down the hall so she could join the festivities out in the living room. Not that it was a big party or anything. Everyone was kind of just doing what they needed to do. Kane was in the kitchen cooking, her mom was setting the table and arguing with the Alexa about which Christmas song was playing, and Bellamy, Octavia, and his mom were sitting in the living room together, talking and laughing.
"I just get tired so easily these days," Vera said, sounding winded already. "I have to rest a lot."
"I can relate," Clarke said. Although she at least had the luxury of knowing that her ailments wouldn't bother her so much after a few more months. Vera's condition was permanent.
"Now tell me about your boyfriend," the older woman said, pointing to Bellamy. "My son's mentioned him a few times."
Clarke felt assured that Kane would at least mention Bellamy in a positive light, so that meant she could brag him up. "That's Bellamy," she said. "He's . . . pretty amazing, actually. He's really been there for me through all of this. I don't know what I'd do without him."
"Well, Marcus says the two of you are very much in love."
She smiled. "We are."
"High school sweethearts?" Vera asked.
Laughing lightly, she said, "Something like that." More like a high school one-time hook-up that had turned into something way more.
"He's cute," Vera said, giving her side a little nudge.
Sure is, Clarke thought proudly.
"You know, Clarke," Vera said, her tone more serious now, "my son . . . he may not even be married to your mother yet, but he thinks of you like a daughter already. He loves you very much."
Again, Clarke smiled. Because that was a good feeling. When her mom and Kane had started dating, she'd vowed to keep an open mind, to be willing to accept him into her life, and she was glad she had. Because he'd turned out to be a pretty good guy. And a good father figure.
"I'm sure your boyfriend . . . he'll love this baby, too, just like any father would," Vera went on. "And that's all that matters. Don't let anyone tell you anything different."
Are we talking about my mom? she wondered. If Vera knew about Bellamy, chances were she also knew that her future daughter-in-law wasn't a Bellamy fan.
"There's so much more to family than just biology," Vera said, and just hearing that . . . it made Clarke feel really good. Because there were going to be a lot of doubters that she and Bellamy had to prove wrong. It was nice to know that not everyone out there was so skeptical.
She urged Vera to say the same thing to Bellamy once she got the chance to talk to him a little bit, because she felt like it'd be something that he'd like to hear, too. And while they got to know each other, she slipped over to the kitchen to stand next to the man who would someday soon become her stepdad. He was focused on seasoning the ham that would be the main dish of the meal, but he indicated that he was still paying attention to what was going on when he said, "Bellamy seems to be hitting it off with my mother."
"Yeah." Clarke looked over her shoulder just as the woman opened up her arms and gave Bellamy a big hug. "She's so nice." It kind of made her envious, because she wondered when she'd ever see her mom hug Bellamy as kindly as that. Or . . . at all. Hopefully in time.
Not quite sure how to say what she wanted to say to Kane, Clarke opened her mouth and let the words just tumble out. "Hey, I don't know if it's my hormones or just the general holiday sappiness that's making me say this, but . . . I just wanted to thank you," she told him. "For being such a good dad these past two years."
Kane stopped what he was doing, and Clarke noted the way his eyes started to shimmer. It'd brought tears to his eyes. Just hearing her say that made him want to cry. She hadn't ever really given it a whole lot of thought before, but he'd done a lot to step in for her dad once he'd moved to Baltimore. It was Kane who had been the one to help her out with that flat tire her sophomore year of college, and Kane who had helped her move furniture into an apartment with her friends, and Kane who had been the one to tell Finn to treat her right. He'd done all of that and more.
"You make it easy," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a side hug. But as nice as it was of him to say that, it wasn't exactly true. She hadn't always made things easy on the people in her life. Her parents' divorce was proof of that.
...
Although Bellamy would have been fine with something simple like burgers for Christmas dinner, everything Abby and Marcus made tasted good. He wasn't a slow eater, so he felt like he finished before everyone else, except for Clarke, who gobbled things down as fast as he did these days. At one point, when there were no more mashed potatoes left, she looked over at his plate with this longing expression on her face, and he gave the rest of his to her.
The conversation flowed . . . pretty well. For the most part, he tried not to say anything unless he was spoken to, and that worked out well. Vera—nice woman, from what Bellamy could tell—said this really long prayer at the beginning, then continued to talk pretty much through the entire thing. She told a lot of stories about Christmas back when Kane was a kid. Apparently he'd had a dad in the picture back then, but that dad had ended up committing suicide when Kane was just six. Bellamy never would have guessed. Kane seemed like such a well-adjusted guy to have gone through something so traumatic.
The majority of Vera's stories actually were upbeat, though, putting a smile even on Abby's face. And when there was a slight lull in conversation, Abby seized it by talking about a Christmas when Clarke's dad had dressed up like Santa and appeared outside the window. Apparently it'd scared the toddler version of Clarke half to death.
Bellamy's mom didn't chime in with any stories about their Christmases because . . . well, their Christmases had always been smaller. No fancy meal, no huge family get-together, and no truckload of gifts underneath the tree. Just the three of them and a few presents. Until this year, with Clarke. Now there was four. Next year there would be five.
After they were all done eating, everyone sort of just sat there, letting things digest, and Bellamy's mom was the first to say, "Well, that was delicious. Thank you, Marcus. Thank you, Abby."
"You're welcome," Abby said. "I'd say it hit the spot."
"Ugh," Clarke groaned, looking down at her stomach, "I feel like I have a food baby in here now."
"Nope, just a regular one," Bellamy said, reaching over to place his hand on her bump. He still hadn't felt that little girl kick yet, and he really wanted to.
"So have you guys decided on a name?" Octavia asked, leaning forward to put her elbows on the table.
"We're talking about it," Clarke replied.
"Yeah, it's a . . . it's an ongoing discussion," Bellamy said. "But we got some ideas."
"Well, one idea," Clarke corrected. "But we'll figure it out."
Yeah, they had time. And if Avery was what they ended up going with, then fine by him. It was a unique name without being too out there. Like his was.
Clarke's phone buzzed suddenly, and she took it out of her pocket to see who was calling. "Oh, it's Dad," she said, shooting her mom a look. "I should take this."
"Go right ahead," Abby urged, and as Clarke got up from the table, she sighed heavily, as if the mere mention of her ex-husband had brought down her mood. "Well, once we let this all settle, we can have dessert," she decided.
Bellamy wasn't much of a dessert guy, but he'd have some, just to be polite or whatever. And if he didn't finish his, he was sure Clarke would finish it for him. As full as she was right now, within a half an hour or so, she'd probably be hungry again.
"Oh, here, Abby, let me help you clear the table," his mom said when Abby stood up to gather plates.
"I've got it," Abby said.
"I insist."
Bellamy never failed to be amazed how damn nice his mom was to Clarke's mom. They were clearly very different women, didn't have much in common, but his mom always did stuff like this, volunteering to help clear the table. Bellamy didn't, and Octavia didn't, and even Kane was preoccupied with other things when he asked Vera, "Mom, you want to move over to the couch?"
"Yes," Vera said, grabbing hold of her son's arm as she struggled to stand. It was a slow process, but with his help, she walked in that direction.
As everyone around them dispersed, Octavia leaned across the table and asked, "Where's Clarke's room? I know you know."
"It's upstairs," he replied.
"I wanna see it."
It'd been years since he'd gone up there, but there had been a time when it'd been one of his favorite places to be. He kind of wanted to check it out himself, see what was the same, what was different. "Hey, Clarke?" he called.
His girlfriend was standing near her dad's old office, already deep in conversation, but she whipped her head around when he said her name.
"Can I show Octavia your room?" he asked.
"Yeah, sure," she answered, "go ahead."
Getting up from the table, he said, "Come on," and motioned for his sister to follow him.
Déjà vu, he thought as he climbed up the stairs. He was pretty sure he still felt Abby's disapproving eyes glaring a hole into the back of his head, even though he wasn't heading up there to make out with her teenage daughter this time.
"This must've been a hard bedroom to sneak into," Octavia remarked.
"I didn't sneak," he said, approaching the door. "Most of the time." Twisting the knob, he pushed the door open to reveal the room. Same queen-sized bed with the pale pink bedspread, same bay window where Clarke used to sit and draw. Every knickknack and item that he remembered being on her shelves was still there, and he was sure that if he opened up her closet, he'd find some of the clothes she used to wear in high school in there. Maybe even her cheerleading uniform.
"Wow," Octavia said. "Kinda girly."
"Well, she's a girl, not a tomboy like you," Bellamy teased.
Octavia sat down on the bed, bouncing up and down a bit as if she were testing the mattress, then asked, "Does it look the same as you remember?"
"Yeah," he said, "pretty much the same." He caught sight of something taped to her vanity mirror, though, something he didn't ever recall seeing there before. It was a small yellow sticky note that read, in Clarke's own handwriting, Inhale the future, exhale the past. She must have gone through an inspirational quote phase as a senior.
"No pictures of you, though," Octavia remarked, standing up again.
"Well, we broke up," he pointed out. Of course there weren't going to be pictures of him still on display. Although at one point, there had been.
"But it was a friendly breakup," Octavia said. "Hmm, so maybe she's still got pictures of you around here somewhere." She pulled open the drawer of the nightstand and started looking around inside.
"Don't snoop too hard," he cautioned. "You might find some pictures you don't wanna see."
"Gross." She made a face, but her expression changed when she found something in that drawer. "Ooh, what's this?" she said, pulling out what looked like a book or a journal. "Her diary."
Clarke had never been one to write in a diary every day, so he was sure there were probably only sporadic entries in there, if that. "Don't open it," he told his sister.
"I wasn't going to," she said. "But does it make you wonder if she wrote anything about you in here?"
Well, yeah, of course he was curious, but that was private, and he wasn't about to invade Clarke's privacy just out of curiosity. "Put it away," he said.
"Fine, you're no fun." Octavia opened the drawer wider, set the journal back down inside, and then said, "Well, what do we have here?" as she pulled something else out. A necklace this time, one Bellamy recognized quite well. "To me, you are perfect," Octavia read off of the small silver circle. "That's so cheesy."
"Hey, I got that for her," he said, glad to see that she hadn't gotten rid of it.
"You did?"
"Yeah."
"You were that cheesy back in high school?"
He crossed the room and said, "Give me that," and seized it back from her. He read the words, smiled, and remembered all the times he'd seen her wear it. Back in high school, she'd worn it during the day, during cheerleading competitions, even though that hadn't been allowed, and sometimes, she'd worn it just for him.
...
It was useless for Bellamy to even try to do anything else while he waited for Clarke to come by. She'd texted him this morning that she'd be home around noon, but here it was 12:30, and she wasn't there. Not even porn could distract him, so he just sat on the couch and waited for her. Patiently. Or . . . not so patiently. He had a hard-on the size of Texas.
When he heard a car pull up outside, he sprang off the couch and raced to the window. And it was her. Without even bothering to put on a coat, he ran outside and swept her off her feet right after she got out of the car. She barely even had time to yelp in excitement before his mouth found hers, kissing her fervently. These past few days without her had been torture. Sexting could only go so far.
"I missed you," she murmured against his lips.
"I missed you, too." As nice as it was to be on Christmas break, it would have been better if Clarke hadn't had to leave town for family Christmas. From what she'd told him, it'd been a miserable experience for her anyway.
Together they stumbled towards the door and into the house. Bellamy slammed it shut and meandered through the living room with his girlfriend, too intent on kissing her to pay much attention to where he was going. He bumped into the arm of the couch, almost knocked over a lamp, and tripped over his own feet, but none of that mattered when he got her pressed up against the wall and snaked his hands underneath her shirt.
"Your mom?" she asked breathily.
"Out with O," he replied, squeezing her breasts. "Gotta score those post-Christmas deals."
"So we're alone?" she said.
"Yeah." Not wanting to waste any more time, Bellamy grabbed the bottom of Clarke's shirt and roughly lifted it up over her head. Her breasts were practically spilling out of her bra, so he unclasped it quickly and took a moment to appreciate how sexy she looked shaking it off and letting it fall to the floor. Plus, she had the necklace on, his Christmas gift to her. He wasn't about to take that off.
"When are they coming home?" she asked him, scrunching up the bottom of his shirt.
"Not for a while." He moved her hands out of the way and took off his shirt in one swift motion, then pressed his chest to hers, wrapped his arms around her, and hoisted her up. Although he could have carried her into his bedroom, having the house to themselves inspired a lot of other ideas, so he took her into the kitchen instead, pushed the fake floral centerpiece on the table aside, and laid her down on top of it.
"Wait, Bellamy," she said as he bent down to kiss her neck. "This is your kitchen table."
"It's okay," he assured her, reaching down to yank off her shoes. "We eat in front of the TV."
That got a laugh out of her, so he went ahead and unfastened her jeans, figuring she wouldn't mind getting fucked right here. It wasn't the biggest table in the world, nor was it the sturdiest, but if they broke it . . . oh, well.
Getting Clarke undressed was easy. She'd gotten so good at sex and so used to having sex with him that he didn't even need to tell her to lift her hips up so he could take her pants off. She just did it. And she did it again when it was time for him to remove her underwear. When she lay before him completely naked, sprawled out on his fucking kitchen table of all places, he felt like he was about to cum right then and there.
I gotta fuck her, he thought, quickly undoing his own jeans. He pushed them down to his knees, along with his boxer briefs, and moved forward, lining himself up at the edge of the table. Grabbing hold of both of her legs under the knees, he pulled her forward so that her hips were right there on the edge, her hot, tight pussy in the perfect position for him to just . . .
"Condom," she reminded him just as he was about to enter her.
"In my bedroom," he said. Did they really have to stop just for that? She was on the pill.
"Well, go get it," she told him.
As much as he wanted to just keep going, he wasn't going to do that without Clarke's permission. Besides, she was right to remind him. And she usually had to.
Leaving her lying there, he pulled his pants up just enough to be able to run into his bedroom. There was a condom right there on the nightstand, so he swiped it up and ran back out to her. She hadn't moved. Her legs were still spread, and she was still waiting for him. "You look so hot right now," he told her, quickly tearing open the small package with his teeth. He sheathed himself as quickly as possible, making sure it was on there snugly before he positioned himself at her entrance again. With one hand around the base of his cock, he guided himself in, making it a full thrust right from the start. Oh god, he'd missed this.
"Uh!" Clarke cried out, her whole pussy clenching around him. Despite there not being much foreplay, she was pretty slick down there. He liked to think that she'd been thinking about this all Christmas just like he had, that she'd been imagining it all afternoon on the car ride home with her parents.
Sometimes with Clarke, he liked to go slower than he did with other girls. But this was not one of those times. The combination of being on the kitchen table with her and seeing her wearing nothing but that necklace . . . it was too much, and he had to go hard and fast. She didn't seem to mind. In fact, the sounds of pleasure she made while he fucked her just drove him wild. "Oh . . ." she moaned, a lot louder than she typically was when she was over here and they were trying to avoid being heard by Octavia. "Oh, god. I wanna cum."
"Fuck." He had to squeeze his eyes shut, because watching her tits bounce and being able to see himself sliding in and out of her so well . . . it'd be over way too soon if he kept looking at those things.
He wasn't about to fuck her and not get her off. No way. Bringing his hand into the action, he rubbed at her clit, knowing that was a surefire way to get her closer to orgasm. Clarke loved being stimulated down there, either internally or externally. She loved it when he played with her clit, loved it when he fingered her or ate her out, loved it when he angled his thrusts just right to be able to hit her G-spot.
"Bellamy," she gasped as the whole table rocked beneath her. "I'm gonna fall."
No, she wasn't. "I got you," he promised, his hips still moving as he tried to wrap his arms underneath her and pick her up. That didn't work very well, so he had to halt his thrusts for just a few seconds and lift her up.
"Bellamy!" She sounded worried for a moment, and her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, her arms around his neck. "Don't drop me," she whimpered.
"I won't." This wasn't the easiest way to fuck her, and even though she was lightweight, it'd kill his arms and legs. So he pressed her back against the wall, and that made everything easier. She held onto him, and he held her up there, and he just picked up right where he left off, pounding into her and making her moan.
He wasn't sure how long he stood there fucking her up against that wall. But he was sure that, when she came and screamed out his name, the neighbors down the street could probably hear it.
...
When Bellamy headed back downstairs, he heard Clarke ending the phone call with her father. She wasn't rolling her eyes, and she sounded pleasant enough when she said goodbye to him, so it must not have been a bad conversation.
"How's your dad?" he asked her, keeping his right hand in a fist to hide what he was holding.
"He's good," she said, putting her phone back in her pocket. "He says hi."
"Does he?"
"Yeah, actually."
"Might just make a fan out of him yet," he joked, although truthfully . . . it kind of sucked that her dad didn't like him as much as he'd initially thought. He supposed it didn't really matter, though. All that mattered was what he and Clarke felt for each other. "I brought you something," he told her, excited to see how she'd react to what he'd brought down from her room.
"What?" she said eagerly.
Holding up his hand, he unclenched his fist, and out came the necklace. Her eyes widened as he held it up in front of her, like maybe she hadn't seen it or thought about it for a long time.
"Where'd you get that?" she asked him.
"In your room," he answered. "When was the last time you wore it?"
"I don't know," she said quietly. "Years ago."
He wondered if she'd worn it after he'd gone away to college. Probably not. But she'd kept it, so now she could wear it again. "Well, we gotta change that." He stepped around behind her and put it on, momentarily flashing back to six years ago. Her hair was shorter now, but she was still the same Clarke Griffin.
"I'm still not perfect, though," she told him.
Hooking the necklace together, he said, "Well, to me, you still are." It didn't matter how much she kept him up in the middle of the night, or how much food she ended up taking off of his plate. Every version of her—high school, college, pregnant, not pregnant—was the love of his life.
...
No one ended up having room for dessert, so Clarke downplayed her incessant hunger just so she didn't stick out. Bellamy must have known she wanted dessert, though, because he asked Kane if they could take a plate of fudge home, and he walked out with that in hand.
Vera hugged them both as they left, and Kane shook Bellamy's hand. But it was so obvious to Clarke that her mom didn't really know what to do, because she just waved to him and thanked him for coming. All in all, though, despite the awkward goodbye between the two of them, it'd been a pretty good Christmas. Clarke couldn't complain.
They dropped Aurora and Octavia off back at the house, then continued on home themselves. Clarke found herself getting sleepy on the short drive since it was already dark out. When they arrived home, she felt ready to get in her brand new robe and curl up on her brand new pillow and go to bed.
"I'm so tired," she said as she followed Bellamy up the front steps.
"Don't fall asleep on me yet," he said as he unlocked and pushed open the front door. "There's one more thing."
She wasn't sure what he meant until she walked inside and saw two suitcases sitting in the middle of their living room. "What's this?" she asked.
"Your last present."
She made a face, confused. "What?" He'd gotten her . . . luggage?
"We're gonna go somewhere for a couple days," he told her. "Out of town."
"We are?"
"Yeah. We gotta do something like this before the baby's born."
Well, the apps he was looking at must have said the same thing as the apps she was checking every day, because yeah, they had mentioned that it might be a good idea to take a pre-baby vacation. But this seemed pretty spontaneous, even for Bellamy. "But what about work?" she questioned.
"I took the time off," he told her. "I talked to your boss, and she agreed to give you time off, too."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
He'd thought this through then. She was definitely impressed by that.
"I already packed everything," he said, motioning to the suitcases.
"Everything?" she asked emphatically. "My vitamins, my stretchy pants . . ."
"Everything," he reassured her.
She wasn't sure when he'd done that. Although he had mysteriously gone to the 'grocery store' on Christmas Eve and left her hanging out with just his mom and sister for about half an hour. So that'd probably been a fib. He'd probably come here to pack things up, set the suitcases out, and have his surprise ready to go for when they returned home.
"Where are we going?" she inquired curiously.
"It's a surprise," he said. "You wanna go tonight?"
Even though she had been tired a moment ago, now she just felt energized. "Can we?"
"Yeah. You sleep, I'll drive."
"Okay." That worked for her.
"Okay, let's go." He grabbed both suitcases and hauled them out the door, one in each hand, not bothering to roll them even though they were the roll-able kind.
"Did you plan out stuff for us to do when we get there?" she asked him, interested to know just how much thought and planning had gone into this last gift of his.
"Yeah," he answered proudly. "Well, some of it's gonna be sex, but some of it's other stuff, too."
Sex and other forms of fun? She couldn't wait. Smiling, she walked back to the car with him and said, "Sounds like the perfect getaway to me."
