AN: Picking up where we left off – Raven's Halloween party and finally (?) some Bellarke interaction… I hope you guys like the story so far, big thanks to deadmags who reviewed the last chapter, and also to everyone else who have read, favorited or activated alerts!

As always, I don't own anything relating to The 100. And a shout out to my beta Liz :)

Chapter title from "City Lights" by Blanche

3

The Stars in Your Dark Eyes

For a second or two after she lets the ping pong ball fly, Clarke is frozen.

Which Raven, of course, notices immediately. She raises her eyebrows in a silent question, but Clarke just shakes her head discretely before turning around. Her head spins slightly as she does, which she blames on the alcohol – it's definitely not her heart racing.

And there he is, minus the fluorescent green this time, instead wearing a… football uniform?

"And what are you supposed to be?" she asks when she's gotten her voice working again. "Unfulfilled college dreams?"

He looks down at himself before shrugging. "Kind of last minute, I didn't have a costume so I had to make do with what was available."

"Which was, what? Your old American football uniform from school?" she continues amusedly. "Reliving your glory days?"

She seriously does not know where the snarky comments are coming from, but he shoots her a smirk in return, so she doesn't think she's offended him, at least.

"Actually, my roommate's boyfriend's, but close enough."

"Hi there," Raven cuts in with one of her razor sharp smiles, unashamed as always. "Welcome to the party. And you are?"

He looks a little confused for a moment, eyebrows furrowing slightly – which makes Clarke realize that she still can't see his Number, this time because he's wearing a helmet, minus the grill. Damn it.

"Sorry, I'm Bellamy Blake," he says after a moment, holding out his hand to Raven. "Miller's roommate, I'm pretty sure he told Zeke I was coming."

"Of course, sorry, yeah, Zeke said a friend of Miller's might be stopping by." She looks between him – Bellamy, Clarke tries out the name in her mind and finds that she likes it, a lot – and Clarke, eyebrows again shooting up. "So… this is your delivery guy?"

There have been many times in Clarke's life when she's wanted to sink through the ground – funnily enough, most of them with, and usually because of, Raven – and this is definitely one of them. She can feel the blush creeping up her neck and tries to tamp down on it before she turns into a tomato, knowing full well that it's a lost cause.

"Delivery guy?" Bellamy repeats amusedly. "Glad to know that's the part you took away from our encounter, Princess."

Clarke raises an eyebrow at him. "Like 'Princess' is any better?"

He gives her a long once over, eyes trailing slowly from hers down her entire body and back up, definitely lingering a little too long in certain places. If she hadn't already been blushing, she sure would be by the time his eyes finally reach hers again.

"Well, if the glass slipper fits…"

Right, she's wearing Raven's ridiculous ball gown, she had actually almost managed to forget that.

"You caught me, I'm really a princess in exile. My gown was just at the drycleaner the other day."

He lets out a surprised laugh at that, and Clarke can feel the corners of her mouth curl up in response.

"Right…" Raven drawls next to Clarke, reminding her that they're not alone but actually still in Raven and Zeke's kitchen, surrounded by people. "If you're out, I'm going to have to call in reinforcements." She scans the room, spotting Zeke just entering with some empty bottles. "Babe, come help me beat these losers. Clarke's too distracted by Miller's roommate to be of any use to me."

Clarke squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, making a mental note to strangle Raven as soon as there aren't any witnesses around. When she opens them again, Bellamy is watching her intently, a half-smile on his face.

"Guess I've been kicked off the team," she says lightly.

"Sorry if I… distracted you," he replies, obviously amused by the whole situation.

"She's exaggerating," Clarke tries, and he chuckles.

"So you didn't miss not just the cups but the whole table a minute ago?"

Of course he saw that.

"Don't worry," he continues before she can say anything. "I almost walked into a pole the other day because I couldn't take my eyes off you even when you were three blocks away."

The admission makes her stomach swoop in a way she hasn't experienced in much too long.

"Really?"

He shrugs, as if it's nothing.

"Let's just say you made a… an impression. Now, normally at this stage, I would offer to get you a drink, but seeing as I just got here and you seem to be a bit more at home than I am…"

"Right. Follow me."

She moves past him, brushing against him in a not-at-all deliberate way as she does, his arm firm and warm against her. Before she reaches the kitchen door, she feels his hand wrap around her wrist and his mouth close to her ear.

"Don't want to lose you in the crowd," he says, voice low, making a shiver run down her spine. She turns her head, putting them only inches apart.

"We wouldn't want that."

His fingers slide down to interlace with hers instead, his lips parting slightly, but she quickly turns back around and tugs him along out into the hallway and onwards to the living room, which is much more crowded than the kitchen was. Jasper, the eternal bartender at these things, has set up shop behind the bar, and when they reach it, Clarke leans against the counter. She'd try to climb one of the barstools, but she's pretty sure it's not physically possible in this dress.

"What will it be, your highness?" Jasper asks with an exaggerated bow.

Clarke rolls her eyes. "Something fruity that doesn't contain your moonshine. And you know I'll know if it does." She turns to Bellamy. "What would you like? Zeke's a beer snob so there's like, fifteen types of beer, plus basically every type of liquor you can imagine. Take your pick. Though I would recommend staying away from the moonshine, too much of that stuff could probably make you blind."

He considers her question for a moment. "Whiskey, neat," he then tells Jasper, who salutes him before turning to the bottles on the shelves against the wall.

Clarke turns so she's leaning her elbow against the bar and Bellamy mirrors her position a few feet away, glancing down at her poufy skirt that fills the entire space between them and brushes against his legs. He says something, but the music and general sound volume in the room is too loud so she can't hear.

"Sorry?" she says, leaning in closer.

"I said, I'm glad I ran into you again," he repeats, his warm breath hitting her neck. "I've been kicking myself for not getting your number the other day."

His words make the butterflies that have taken up residence in her stomach flap their wings wildly. "Oh, yeah?"

He nods slowly, eyes intent on hers, and Clarke again forgets that they're surrounded by people. When he leans forward another inch, she does too, and…

"There we go."

Jasper's voice makes Clarke jump back and quickly tear her eyes away. Damn, if he can do that to her with just a few words and a look… she is so screwed. And not in a good way. Well, possibly in a good way too, but still.

To have something to do with her hands, she grabs the tall glass with something red and fizzy in it that Jasper just put down on the bar and takes a long drink. It might be free of Jasper's infamous moonshine, but there's still a lot of alcohol in it, which adds to the buzz she's been building for the last hour or so. Bellamy seems to have the same idea, because he lifts the tumbler of whiskey to his lips and downs the amber liquid in one go.

"Damn, that's good whiskey," he notes when he's put the glass down. "Zeke's not just a beer snob, I guess."

Clarke puts her own, still half-full, glass down as well. "Actually, whiskey's Raven's domain," she says, squinting at the bottle Jasper's put down behind the bar. "I think that one's… yup, Glenmorangie, 'The quarter century'."

"That sounds expensive."

"I'm not an expert – I prefer mixed drinks, you don't need twenty-five-year-old whisky for that – but five, maybe six hundred," Clarke says with a shrug, and Bellamy gulps.

"A bottle?"

"Does that make it taste better or worse?"

He considers her question for a moment. "I honestly don't know. I might need another one, just to check."

Clarke laughs and waves Jasper back over. "Refill, please, barkeep."

He dutifully pours a good amount of whiskey in the glass before once again returning to Maya at the end of the counter.

Bellamy takes a small zip. "That'll last me for a while. Is there somewhere a little less… rowdy around here?"

She shouldn't. She really, really shouldn't. She's pretty much certain that he's a Norm and she just knows that she could fall so easily…

"Come on."

There's a large balcony off the living room, but it's already full of people smoking and laughing, so she leads him out of the room, in the opposite direction of the kitchen. His hand finds hers, interlacing their fingers again, and she feels a burst of electricity rush up her arm at his warm touch.

Halfway down the hallway, she reluctantly pulls her hand out of his grasp so she can open the linen closet and grab two blankets.

"Trust me," she says at his confused expression, handing him one of the blankets.

He just nods and follows her further down the hallway, to the non-descript door at the end that hides stairs leading up to a private roof terrace.

"Wow," he mumbles when they step out into the open air, turning in a circle to take in their surroundings.

"Pretty cool, huh?" she says, sitting down on one of the lounge chairs that occupy the space and wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. She takes another zip of her drink before putting the glass down on the ground next to her lounger.

"Amazing," he agrees, taking a seat on the other chair and putting the blanket to the side before turning to her. "You're not worried you'll ruin your pretty dress, though?"

Clarke shrugs. "Don't care. Raven basically forced me to wear it, so it would serve her right if it did get ruined."

Bellamy laughs at that, a deep, rumbling sound that seems to reverberate in her bones.

"So…" she starts when his laughter trails off. They're in downtown Manhattan, so it's never quiet, but the sound of the party downstairs is limited to some noise floating up from the balcony and the traffic rumble is about as distant as it ever gets here. "Delivery driver by day, football player by night… what else is there to Bellamy Blake?"

He laughs a little. "I've never actually played football, to be honest," he replies. "I was a huge nerd in high school."

Clarke tilts her head a little, giving him an evaluating once over. "I'm having a hard time believing that."

"Seriously," he insists. "I had braces until, like, tenth grade and these totally out of style glasses… and I loved history and mythology, that's really all it takes to get placed in the nerd category at any high school. I'm actually getting my Bachelor in history at the moment."

"Really?"

"I know," he says with a grimace. "I'm too old to still be in college."

"That's not what I was thinking at all," Clarke replies. "I just didn't really peg you as a history buff."

"You mean based on the, what, twenty minutes total we've spent together?" he asks with a chuckle.

"Touché," she replies with a laugh. "So how come you're going to school now?"

He's quiet for a moment, taking a sip of his whiskey. "My mom died a few months before I was supposed to start college," he finally says. "I had a scholarship, full ride, so I could have still gone, but my little sister was just thirteen… I couldn't let her get sucked into the foster system, so I put off school. A family friend got me the job at the delivery company and I've been there ever since. I guess I got used to earning money, it took a while before I even thought about school again, even when it was a possibility, but I've been taking night classes for… five years now. It's slow going, since I work full time, too, but hopefully I'll have my Bachelor in the spring."

"I'm sorry," Clarke offers. "That can't have been easy for you, having to step up and take care of your sister right after losing your mom like that. How is she now? She must be… five years younger than you?"

"Yeah," he confirms. "She's twenty-five, doing well."

She thinks he might continue, but he doesn't, instead looking away from her and out over the city. Clarke might not be the best at reading people – Raven's much better at it, interpreting little nuances in someone's expression that Clarke doesn't even spot – but she's fairly sure there's more to the story. It's also obvious that Bellamy doesn't want to talk about it.

"So, history," she changes the subject, and she can see the relief on his face for a brief moment when he meets her eyes again. "I have to admit, I was never good at names and dates. How did it peak your interest?"

He shifts on the lounge chair, turning fully towards her and leaning his elbows on his knees, his entire posture giving away how excited he is about the subject.

"It's been a big part of my life since I was little," he explains. "My dad died when I was just a baby, and my mom struggled a lot, financially, but she always made sure to read to me whenever she could. We barely had any books, so she made do with what we did have – my favorite was a huge book of Greek myths that used to be my dad's. By the time I was, I don't know, four, I demanded she read me stories from it every single night, it didn't matter that I'd already heard them probably a hundred times. I taught myself to read with that book, when my mom didn't have time to read out loud. And then when Octavia – that's my sister – was little, I started reading to her. It became a… an escape, I guess. From our crappy, one bedroom apartment with drug dealers down the hall and only one working radiator."

His voice goes from wistful, when he mentions his sister, to hard by the time he stops talking, and Clarke can't help but reach out and squeeze his hand.

He glances down at their joined hands for a moment before clearing his throat.

"OK, enough about me. Tell me about you."

Oh, no.

It's not like Clarke doesn't have a background story she uses for situations like these, she just… she doesn't want to lie to him.

Which is not an option, of course.

"What do you want to know?" she asks, putting it off just a little.

He turns his hand under hers and runs a finger from the heel of her hand, across the palm and up her middle finger, sending sparks of electricity through her arm.

"We can start with your name. Do you even have a last name? All I've got is Clarke, and even that was from Raven, not you."

He's right, she realizes.

"Well, let's rectify that, shall we," she says, taking his hand in a handshake. "Clarke Griffin, lovely to meet you."

He gives her a half-smirk. "Bellamy Blake. The pleasure is all mine."

He holds onto her hand for a moment longer than necessary, and Clarke's overwhelmed by an urge to pull him down on top of her on the lounger, get a taste of his lips against hers, feel his skin on hers.

Instead, she pulls her hand away and tucks both hands into the blanket, to avoid the temptation.

A flash of disappointment, if she's not completely mistaken, crosses Bellamy's face before he smiles again.

"And who is Clarke Griffin?"

She hesitates for a moment, which she thinks is perfectly normal in the situation. "That's a good question," she finally says. "I guess… I'm an artist."

That much is the truth, if not the whole truth.

"Really? What do you do?"

"Paint," she reveals. "Not professionally or anything, I mean, I sell some stuff on Etsy, but it's more of a hobby, really. What I do when I need to unwind."

He considers her for a moment. "But it's the way you identify yourself. I asked who you were and that's what you said. Not what you do for a living or something else."

It's true. The artistic side of herself has been one of few constants in her life, something she could always take with her, wherever she went. Drawing, painting, she's even tried sculpting and pottery a time or two. It's always been her way to escape from the world, to just be, if only for a little while.

"Yeah, I guess so," she says. "As for what I do for a living, I work at a library."

It's not a complete lie – she volunteers at a library in Brooklyn, reading for younger children and helping older kids with their homework a couple of times a week. It's just not a real, paid job.

"Really? That was my dream job when I was, like, ten."

She has to hold back a laugh at that, not wanting to insult him. "Seriously? Ten-year-old Bellamy wanted to be a librarian? Not a firefighter or an astronaut, but a librarian?"

"Absolutely! That's where all the books lived."

She lets the laugh out now, and he joins her, the sound floating up towards the stars that are barely visible above them. Clarke lets out a sigh and twists in the lounger, stretching out so she can gaze at the night sky.

"I love this place," she says after a moment, just loud enough for the words to carry over to Bellamy.

She hears his lounger squeak a little and when she glances to the side, she sees that he has also lain down on it, mimicking her position.

"No roof terrace at the princess' castle?" he asks jokingly, turning his head to meet her eyes.

She stretches a leg out to kick him lightly in the shins.

"Well, there is a shared one for everyone in the building," she admits. "But it's used a lot by the other tenants, so it's never really private. I do have access to a patch of roof by the elevator shaft, though I think it's probably for maintenance and not supposed to be used for anything else. It is nice when I want to get some air, but it's tiny, just enough space for a couple of folding chairs, really."

"Oh, well, that just won't do."

Clarke rolls her eyes. "Shut up."

"I was obviously spot on with my assessment of you as a princess," Bellamy continues, but there's a teasing look in his eyes. "So where is this mansion? Upper West Side? Soho?"

"Brooklyn, actually." She can tell that he wasn't expecting that. "And I inherited the apartment when my parents died, my grandfather bought it back in the eighties."

He immediately looks horrified with himself. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"It's fine," Clarke assures him with a smile. "It was years ago, not that I don't still miss them, of course, but…"

"Time does help you heal," he finishes for her with a knowing smile.

She returns the smile, but there's an unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach. This is what she tells strangers if it comes up, but with Bellamy's own background, it feels… dirty, somehow, to make him think that they have this shared experience of losing parents.

"It does," she still agrees, but quickly changes the subject. "So, when you're not delivering packages or studying, what, ancient Greece or World War II…"

"Right now it's the industrial revolution," he interjects.

"Right, so when you're not busy with all of that, what does Bellamy Blake enjoy doing during the five minutes he has off every week?"

He laughs at that, turning so he's once again looking up at the sky.

"Time off, yes, I remember that vaguely," he retorts. "I don't know… I usually sleep, to be honest. Try to keep up with my school work. My roommate drags me out of my room to play video games a couple of times a week and forces me to go out with him and his boyfriend at least once a month. He claims it's so I won't completely lose touch with the real world."

Clarke laughs. "So he's your Raven, basically," she notes. "She usually bullies me into going out with her and Zeke when she decides it's been too long since I left home for something other than work."

"If she's anything like Miller, I am genuinely sorry."

"Nah, she's not too bad… if it weren't for her, I'd probably spend most of my time on my couch, eating Ben & Jerry and watching Netflix with my cat."

Bellamy chuckles. "That actually sounds like the perfect Friday night to me. Minus the cat, of course, but just because our landlord doesn't allow pets."

"You can borrow mine for some cuddling whenever you want," Clarke replies, realizing a second too late what she's said.

The moment turns charged and she can feel his eyes on her, but resolutely keeps hers on the sky, even as he speaks. "I might take you up on that."

They both stare up at the barely visible stars above them in silence for a while.

"That's the one thing I miss in the city," Clarke then says. "Being able to really see the stars."

"Small town girl?" Bellamy asks.

"I guess so, I grew up in Arcadia, California," she replies. Again, not a full-blown lie, she did live there her first years as a Soul Keeper.

His eyebrows furrow for a moment while he probably tries to figure out where that is. "I don't think I've ever heard of Arcadia, California," he finally admits, and she chuckles.

"I'm not surprised, it's a tiny town close to the Nevada border, about ten minutes from the I-15," she tells him. "I had the best star-gazing spot right in my own back-yard." Of course, it had helped that there was no electricity in Arcadia, or anywhere nearby, at the time. Literally no light pollution.

"Me and Octavia used to go up on the roof of our building," he says. "It was nothing like this, of course, just a normal roof. I don't even think we were allowed up there, the door from the stairwell was supposed to be locked, but it was broken… we'd bring a blanket and pillows and spend all night up there, in the summer. I learned all the constellations so I could tell her about them."

Ignoring the incessant voice in the back of her mind that tells her it's a bad idea, Clarke sits up so she can move the head of her lounger closer to Bellamy's before lying back down.

"Will you show me?"

They glance at each other at the same time, heads only a few inches apart now, and for a moment, Clarke thinks he might kiss her and wonders exactly how awkward that would be with that damn helmet. But then he turns back to the night sky above them.

"I can try…"

He points up at the sky and Clarke inches closer, so she can follow his finger.

"That's the moon."

She elbows him in the side, getting a chuckle in return.

"Seriously, though, hang on…"

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it – the screen is one of those standard backgrounds that comes with the phone. As she watches, he opens his app store and writes something, clicking install on the first free app that pops up. When he clicks the icon to open the app, the screen turns black and small dots appear and disappear, words written next to them.

"You seriously downloaded a star map?" Clarke asks incredulously when she realizes what it is.

"You wanted me to tell you about the stars," he replies with a shrug. "We can't see them here, this is the next best thing. Now, are you paying attention?"

She rolls her eyes but focuses on the phone when he holds it up at arm's length, turning it on the side. With his other hand, he points beyond the phone, at the actual stars.

"So, that's Ursa Major, the Big Dipper…"

That's how Raven finds them, Clarke has no idea how much later.

"There you are!" she exclaims, and Clarke pushes herself up into a sitting position, squinting against the harsh light coming through the open door. "I was starting to wonder if you'd decided to take the train home in that dress."

"Funny," Clarke replies.

"Sorry, we must have lost track of time," Bellamy says, closing down the app. The clock on the home screen says that it's after one in the morning. "We should get out of your hair."

"No, there's no rush. Miller and Jackson already left, so you're on your own anyway," Raven catches Clarke's eye and winks. "Take your time, Clarke can lock up when you leave."

"No, we'll go," Clarke insists, getting up from the lounger. "I should get home anyway."

"Yeah, me too," Bellamy says, getting to his feet next to her.

They follow Raven down the stairs and even though she knows the party's over, Clarke's still surprised by the silence.

"I just need help to get this thing off, Rae," she says when they reach the master bedroom.

Raven gives her a smirk. "Oh, I'm sure…"

"Now, please, Raven," Clarke cuts her off before she can suggest that Bellamy helps with that instead.

Raven sighs but follows Clarke into the master bedroom and pulls the zipper in the dress down when Clarke turns her back.

"So… have fun?"

Clarke knows very well that the question is a lot less innocent than it might seem. "Not the kind of fun that you're implying. You do know there are buildings around here, right? Anyone can see what you do up there."

"It's dark out, babe, and people are out trick or treating, I doubt anyone would have seen. Besides, this skirt would be perfect for hiding more… interesting activities."

Clarke doesn't reply, instead stepping out of the dress and pulling her own clothes back on.

"I noticed he's still wearing that helmet, I'm guessing that means you still haven't gotten a look at his Number?"

"I decided against asking him to remove it so I could find out," Clarke replies drily. "Figured it might sound a bit weird."

"There are other ways to get him to take it off, you know," Raven says, wagging her eyebrows.

"Night, Rae."

Bellamy's leaning against the wall when they emerge from the bedroom, a smile pulling the corners of his mouth up when he sees her.

"Ready to go?"

"Yup."

Raven walks them to the door, giving Clarke a hug and telling her to text when she gets home, as usual.

When they exit the building, Bellamy stuffs his hands into the pockets of the leather jacket he grabbed on the way out.

"So… Brooklyn, you said?"

"Yeah, down by the river."

He nods. "Nice… fancy a post-midnight stroll?"

"It's, like, an hour's walk," she argues, but he just shrugs.

"I don't mind. I actually have tomorrow off, and I can just take the train from York all the way to Forest Hills."

"Still…"

He starts walking backwards along Battery Place. "You know, the more you argue, the longer it'll take."

Realizing she's fighting a losing battle – and one she doesn't even want to win, to top it off – Clarke just shakes her head and hurries to catch up with him.

"Tell me about your cat," Bellamy says when she loops an arm through his.

So she does, and he in turn tells her about a stray cat he sort of adopted growing up, and the injured animals – birds, rabbits, even a squirrel, once – that his sister seemed to attract like a magnet and that he ended up taking care of.

They talk their way through the city, switching topics easily, and next thing Clarke knows, they've crossed Brooklyn Bridge and are almost at her place.

"So…" Bellamy starts when they stop outside the door to her building. "I'm glad Miller made me go to this thing tonight."

Clarke takes a step forward at the same time as he reaches forward to tuck a still curled strand of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering on her cheek.

"I'm glad Raven forced me to go," she admits, her eyes dropping to his mouth.

They lean in at the same time, Clarke's forehead bumping against the helmet he's still wearing.

"Hang on," he says with a chuckle, his fingers leaving her cheek and she knows he's taking off the thing she's spent all night waiting for him to remove, but she can't force her eyes to leave his. She hears the thump when he drops the helmet to the ground.

Then he's kissing her, and Clarke's lost.

It's soft at first, almost chaste, but soon enough, he traces the seam of her lips with his tongue, asking her to let him in, and she willingly does, wrapping an arm around his neck and pressing herself closer at the same time.

She feels his hands slide around to her back, one coming to rest just below her waist, pulling her even tighter against him, the other tracing up her spine and finally stopping between her shoulder blades.

She loses track of time completely, it's just them in that moment, Bellamy's lips on hers, his warm body pressed against her, the low moan she draws from him when she pulls his bottom lip into her mouth, his hand moving lower, slipping into the back pocket of her jeans.

He's the one to pull away first, looking as dazed as she feels.

And that's when she finally sees it. His Number.

268.