AN: Sorry for the late post, guys – I was on holiday last weekend, and when I got home I had so much to do I only now came up for air, basically! Thanks as always to everyone who read the last chapter, I hope you liked it! And a big thanks to my beta Liz

I don't own anything relating to The 100, I just like playing around with the characters :P

Chapter title from "Iris" by The Goo Goo Dolls

9

And All I Can Taste Is This Moment

Black Friday dawns grey and wet, the mist rising over the East River in swirls of silvery white. Since Clarke has the whole day off, she doesn't immediately get up, instead just ventures out to the kitchen to make some coffee and a few slices of toast that she takes back to the bedroom.

Bastet is stretched out at the foot of the bed, blinking at her sleepily when she crawls back under the covers. She brings the mug to her lips and takes a long sip of the wonderful, hot beverage before caving and picking up her phone.

She and Bellamy texted on and off during the afternoon yesterday, and then some more when both of them got home in the evening, somehow ending up in a discussion about Brooklyn 99 that lasted hours. Time really got away from both of them, and when they finally said goodnight, it was after one in the morning. She knows that Bellamy started work at eight today, so she hopes he managed to get some sleep and isn't too tired.

She's starting to get used to the swooping feeling in her stomach when there are messages waiting for her when she unlocks her phone.

Good morning Princess :-)

Getting up today was no fun,
hope your day's off to a better
start than mine – thank God for
coffee!

Though talking to you was worth it ;-)

Enjoy the day off and I'll talk to
you later :-*

She lets the ending emoji warm her along with the coffee, and sends off a couple of replies before moving onto her toast.

Good morning :-)

Just woke up to your messages,
so my day's starting great ;-)

Hope you got at least some sleep,
sorry for keeping you up so late…

Have a good day at work :-*

She puts the phone away and focuses on her breakfast, absentmindedly watching the rain that's started pouring down on the other side of the windows as she chews. Bas comes closer, stretching out on her back asking for a belly rub, her body bent in a way that should be impossible, and Clarke happily obliges. Purring soon fills the air, the perfect soundtrack to a lazy morning in bed.

She's just swallowing the last bite of toast when her phone buzzes, and she quickly grabs it from the nightstand.

She'd like to say that the smile spreading on her face in anticipation doesn't fall slightly when she sees Wells' name on the screen, but that would be lying.

Not that Wells has to know that, of course. She opens the message.

Skype?

They try to Skype once a week, but it's been over a month now because Wells and his girlfriend Sasha have been traveling. They've still talked a few times, but it's not the same as actually seeing each other, even if it is just through a computer screen.

Give me 10

She pulls on a pair of sweats and a comfy sweater, finger combs her hair – Wells has seen her looking way worse, so it's not like she needs to put in much effort – and then starts up the computer before going into the bathroom to brush her teeth. When she's done, the machine has finished booting up and she clicks on the little blue logo with the white S to open the program.

She knows Wells is sitting at his computer, waiting for the ten minutes to pass, so she clicks on his profile and then the little camera to call him instead.

It only takes a moment before the screen changes to an image of Wells in front of the window behind his desk, the grey sky in London mirroring the one in New York.

"Hey there, Griffin," he greets her with a smile.

"Hi Wells," she replies, her smile matching his. "How was China?"

His eyes shift from the camera to something behind the computer, and then Sasha pops into view. "Hi Clarke! How are you?"

"I'm great, Sash, you? I was just asking Wells about China."

"China was amazing, I can't believe it took me almost sixty years to finally get there!" Sasha gushes. "Wells can tell you about that, though, so I'll leave you to it. But hey – you should take some time off soon, come visit, yeah?"

"That sounds wonderful, I could use a break."

She probably could, she hasn't had more than two consecutive days off since June. And she hasn't seen Wells and Sasha since early spring, when she spent two weeks at their place. But she knows that – unless Bellamy has a change of heart and decides he doesn't want to see her anymore – she won't be going anywhere in the next eight months or so. She's planning on spending all the time she can with him before it's too late.

The thought brings a lump to her throat and she swallows hard, trying to push the sudden wave of sadness away.

"What's wrong?"

Wells clearly knows her too well if he can pick up on her slight change of mood over a pixelated Skype connection.

"Nothing," she assures him, forcing a smile back on her face. "So tell me more about China."

He gives her a long, scrutinizing look but eventually obliges, giving her a detailed description of everything he and Sasha did while they were in China. Clarke's quite frankly impressed that they had time to squeeze so much in during just a month, especially since it seems like they've seen every corner of the country, from Beijing and the Great Wall in the north to Hong Kong in the south and Lhasa with its amazing palace in the west.

"God, that sounds amazing," she sighs when Wells finally finishes. "It's been way too long since I did a trip like that…"

"So why don't you?"

Clarke sighs. "It takes some planning, Wells, you know that. I can't just up and leave."

"Right. So this doesn't have anything to do with the boyfriend I had to learn about from Jasper?"

Damn it, Jasper. She should have known that he wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut.

"You mean the boyfriend I specifically told Jasper isn't my boyfriend? And when did you have time to talk to Jasper, I thought you got back last night?"

Wells laughs. "That one, yeah. And we did, I had a snap waiting for me when I turned my phone on after getting off the plane."

Clarke raises her eyebrows. "Since when do you use Snapchat?"

He shrugs in response, grabbing his phone from the desk next to the computer and tapping the screen as he speaks. "I don't really use it much, but I do check the snaps people send me, and apparently, you made heart eyes at your phone as soon as it beeped all day yesterday."

"I did not!"

Wells just holds up his phone so she can see the screen, where there's a photo of herself looking down at her phone with, OK, a slightly mushy expression on her face. Jasper's used some animation that makes stars rain over her and captioned it 'Clarkey's in loooooove' followed by a bunch of hearts.

"So you want to try another explanation for not wanting to go travelling?"

For a moment, she considers trying to brush it off. But this is Wells – he might be the only person in the world who knows her almost as well as, or maybe even better than, Raven does. There's no way she can fool him, even long distance.

"I mean, yeah," she finally admits. "I'm not really interested in going off on a month long adventure right now, and it probably does have a lot to do with Bellamy."

Wells eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head slowly. "Leave it to you to rule out Norms for a century and a half, and when you finally give one a chance, he's dying in a few months."

Clarke balls up a post it note and throws it at the screen, making Wells laugh.

"It's not like I planned it, you know," she grumbles. "He just… I don't know, there was something there right from the start, something I've never really felt before." She winces as she realizes what she just said to her ex-boyfriend. "Sorry!"

"Don't worry about it," he brushes off with a wave of his hand. "I was there, I know we didn't have a love-at-first-sight thing. I wore you down!"

She ignores the little jab. "I figured I'd never see him again, but then he somehow ended up at Raven's Halloween party, which was when I saw his Number for the first time… I tried to keep my distance after that, but obviously I suck at it. And now here I am, falling for someone I know will be gone by this time next year."

It actually feels good to say it, to get the words out there. Like a weight has been lifted off her chest, letting her breathe more freely.

"And still you're not considering running," Wells notes, almost conversationally.

Clarke shrugs. "Raven says I'm already in too deep. And she's right. I can't… I know it'll probably be so much worse when the time comes, but just thinking about never seeing him again when I could, at least for a while… I'm not that strong."

"I think you've got that backwards," he says gently. "It takes someone very strong to go into a situation like this with their eyes wide open, knowing what's coming."

"Sometimes I forget," she mumbles, looking away from the screen and down at her hands. "We were texting all evening yesterday and I just… I didn't even think about it once. But just now, when Sasha mentioned me coming to visit, it hit me all over again."

"And you've talked to Raven about this, obviously?" Wells asks.

Clarke understands why he thinks it's obvious, and it is – Wells has had a few relationships with Norms over the decades too, but never any longer than a few years, and he's never gotten to a point where he's told a Norm partner about his 'line of work'. As far as Clarke knows, Raven's the only one of her friends and acquaintances who has had a long term relationship with a Norm that didn't end until death.

"I have, not that she's much help. She just said it was worth it in the end, which… OK, but they had over forty years, you know?"

Wells mouth turns up in what looks more like a grimace than a smile. "Yeah, I don't know what to add to that, to be honest. But something tells me it wouldn't matter if I had the most compelling argument for ending this thing now, before you get seriously hurt. Am I right?"

"Yup."

"Then all I am going to say is this – I am always here when you need me."

She wishes that Skype would have invented virtual hugs, because she wants one right about now. Or maybe teleporting, that would be useful. Just pop over to London for a few minutes, get some much needed physical contact, and pop back.

"I know. Knowing that you and Raven will be there is… it's everything."

"Good, I'm glad." He fixes her with an unimpressed look. "Now, let's move on to the fact that I had to hear about this from Jasper."

Clarke holds her hands up in the universal gesture of surrender. "Hey, it's not my fault you have crappy timing! What's the longest conversation we've had in the last month, five minutes? And it was all you going on about 'oh, this and this is so amazing, you wouldn't believe… got to go, we're on our way to so and so!'. Excuse me for not being able to get a word in edgeways."

This is completely true, even if she has to admit that she hasn't tried very hard to tell him.

Wells just laughs. "Fine, you're off the hook."

To Clarke's relief, he then changes the subject and they spend another hour or so talking about everything from Wells' job at an animal shelter (he's the reason Clarke ended up with Bastet in the first place, as a kitten she was found abandoned in a garbage bag along with her siblings and brought to the shelter he volunteered at in Chicago before he left for the UK) to Clarke and Raven's Thanksgiving celebration yesterday. Wells usually says that it's one of few things he misses about the US – Thanksgiving. Especially the food. He makes her describe every dish in detail while he stares dreamily somewhere off screen.

"Careful, you've got a little drool right there," Clarke tells him amusedly when she's finally done.

Wells rolls his eyes. "Funny, Griffin. OK, I have to go, I have a Transfer in a bit. Just jumping right back into the day-to-day life."

"OK. But don't think that you're getting out of our Skype sessions now that you're back in good ole' England. I expect you to follow our regular schedule from now on!"

"Of course," he laughs. "Same-ish time next week, scout's honor."

"Like you were ever a boy scout."

"But I did volunteer at that summer camp once, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. OK, go, talk to you later."

"Of course." He hesitates for a moment. "And I'm here, whenever, OK?"

She's managed to push the previous rush of feelings off during their talk, but now she feels a small lump in her throat again. "I know."

Wells nods once, as if in confirmation. "OK. Love you."

"Love you too. Bye."

He gives a sort of half-wave, and then the screen goes dark.

Clarke spends the rest of the day painting. She has two commissions waiting, and makes quick work of the first one – an oil painting based on an adorable but pretty boring photo of a schnauzer with a bow tie. It's a new client who, apart from the photo, has sent detailed instructions on color choices and a whole bunch of other stuff. Her least favorite type of client, really, but she still enjoys the actual painting process.

The second commission is more up her alley – it's a client that has bought a couple of paintings from her before, all for his wife, and this one's a Christmas present for her. All he's sent is a few photos of the room where it's meant to go and the measurements. Clarke sits for a moment, just looking at the canvas, now and then letting her gaze drift through the windows behind it where the sun has finally decided to make an appearance and is reflecting off the glass buildings across the water.

Eventually, she picks up the brush and makes one bold stroke across the canvass, pausing to get a feel for it before making another, and another.

Normally, she gets completely engrossed in her painting, and it's not unusual that a call or text or Bastet pulls her out of it hours later, making her realize that she hasn't eaten since breakfast. Today, though, she takes regular breaks when her phone buzzes with a new message from Bellamy.

He starts sending her photos of funny things he comes across while working – a grumpy looking cat giving him death glares through a window, a guy wearing a minion outfit riding a unicycle at Times Square, a bunch of corgis with Santa hats. In return, she sends him updates on her progress, getting encouraging replies or questions back.

The heavy feeling in her chest and stomach that the conversation with Wells left her with slowly lifts as the hours pass, in favor of the warmth that she's started to connect with Bellamy. In the early afternoon, he asks what she's had for lunch, and when she admits that she hasn't eaten yet, he keeps sending messages that only consists of FOOD, each time followed by more exclamation points, every thirty seconds until she sends a photo of herself taking a bite of meatloaf with roasted potatoes (so what if it came in a box and was microwaved?).

She finally wraps up the painting a little after eight in the evening. She hasn't gotten a message in a while, since Bellamy has a class from seven to eight thirty, and she tries to not glance at the too quiet phone. And fails miserably, of course. She calls in an order for Chinese food before taking a hot shower, scrubbing away all the paint that didn't end up on the canvas.

When her phone buzzes again, a few minutes before nine, she's just put the steaming containers of food down on the coffee table and is flipping through Netflix to find something to watch.

Finally home.

How are you?

It's almost like they haven't texted all day and he doesn't know pretty much everything she's been up to. It's only been a little over two hours since his last message.

Well, nothing major's happened
in the last two hours :-P

Just got my dinner, trying to
decide what to watch… what
goes best with Moo Shu chicken,
egg rolls and Chow Mein?

The speech bubble pops up immediately, but the answer takes a bit.

Well, that depends on what you're
looking for. I would recommend an
earthy drama with a hint of berries,
or maybe a fruity comedy with
creamy undertones.

Clarke lets out a laugh at the ridiculous descriptions.

I didn't know you were such a
connoisseur ;-)

There's a lot you don't know
about me yet, Princess :-P

That's the downside of texting – the lack of context, body language. Still, she doesn't think she's imagining the flirty undertone.

Oh, really?

Most definitely.

Want to find out?

More than anything. She wants to know every single little thing there is to know about him, wants him to know everything about her… really, everything. Which might be a problem…

She doesn't say that, of course.

I thought that was the point of
this whole dating thing ;-)

Oh, so that's what it's about?

Seriously though, what are you
in the mood for? I'll put on the
same, we can live text.

So they do. They end up watching some new sci-fi movie about an apocalyptic future, complaining to each other about plot holes and things that don't make sense.

It's one of the best dates Clarke's ever been on, and they're not even in the same place.

-100-

The Uber drops Clarke off at the intersection of two streets in the heart of Forest Hills, brick apartment buildings stretching in all four directions. She quickly checks Google Maps and determines that her goal is the building to her left, so she crosses the street and stops in front of the door. There are names with buttons to the left, no Blake on there but she quickly finds Miller on the fifth floor.

"Hello?"

She leans towards the little speaker thing.

"Hey, it's me."

"Hey, come on up."

The door buzzes and she pushes it open, stepping into the lobby. The elevator's waiting for her, and when she gets to the fifth floor, she immediately spots Bellamy leaning out through an open door at the end of a short corridor. A smile spreads on his face when he sees her.

"Hey, you found it," he says, opening the door wider and stepping aside to let her in.

"Yes, there's this little thing called satnav these days," she teases, moving past him and into a long and narrow hallway. There's a small side table just inside the door, and she puts down the two wine bottles she brought on it. "You should try it."

He closes the door behind her and she toes her boots off before unbuttoning her coat.

"I don't trust all this newfangled technology," he retorts. "Didn't you read about that guy who ended up in a lake because he followed the directions from his satnav?"

He holds out his hand for her coat, and she hands it over.

"Well, that's the thing about satnav," she notes. "Must be paired with common sense."

He chuckles a little at that, hanging her coat up before turning to face her again. "Well, that rules out most people, then."

"Unfortunately, yes," she agrees, suddenly feeling almost shy under his intense gaze. "Hi."

His smile turns into a more serious expression and he reaches for her hand, running his thumb across her palm, causing goosebumps to erupt all along her arm. "Hey."

Their eyes stay locked for a long second, before his drop down to her lips. Clarke takes a small step closer and their breaths mingle for a moment before he leans down to close the last of the distance between them.

She meets him halfway, rising up on her tiptoes to reach better, and feels his hand slide around her waist to her back, pressing her closer.

The kiss is far from as chaste as their goodnight kiss on Wednesday, but not quite as heated as their first one. All too soon, Bellamy pulls away from her, clearing his throat as he takes a step back.

"The food," he says, voice sounding almost a little guilty, gesturing behind him. "Don't want to burn it."

Clarke shakes her head a little, to clear the fog from her brain. "Right. See, I must really suck at cooking, it's even rubbing off on you."

He lets out a relieved laugh at that and then tugs on her hand, grabbing one of the wine bottles while she takes the other. "Come on."

He leads her down the hallway, passing three doors on their right. The first door is closed, but the second one is slightly ajar and Clarke catches a glimpse of white and grey tile. The last door is almost completely open, revealing half of a tidy room. The wall that's shared with the bathroom is covered with bookcases and under the window across from the door there's a desk with a laptop that looks like it's seen better days and a couple of open books. Through the crack between the door and the jamb, she thinks she catches sight of a bed made with a dark blue bedspread.

"Miller's bedroom, bathroom in the middle, and my bedroom," Bellamy narrates. "The kitchen's up here on the left, and the living room down at the end of the hallway."

It's obvious that the apartment is old – none of the open plan living areas that are a constant in modern buildings – but it's also clear that someone's done work on it in the last few years. The floors are hardwood, or very nice laminate, not a carpet in sight, and all the walls are painted some shade of white or grey.

The living room, which she peaks into before following Bellamy into the kitchen, isn't huge, but there's enough room for a comfy-looking L-shaped couch and a recliner facing a big-screen TV. There's even some art on the walls, which is something she always looks for – force of habit.

The kitchen's a decent size, split down the middle by a breakfast bar with a couple of stools. The cooking area's on one side – basic, white cabinets that have been spruced up with modern, stainless-steel knobs and somewhat dated but still obviously functioning appliances – and a small dining table on the other, currently set with a nice, white tablecloth, plates, cutlery and glasses, and two candles in the middle, not yet lit. Bellamy takes the wine from her and puts both bottles next to them, and she's almost sure she catches a faint blush on his cheeks as he spots her looking at the table. He quickly turns away and rounds the counter, though, stopping in front of the stove, where there are two pots bubbling.

"Do you need help with anything?" Clarke asks, more because it's the polite thing to do than anything else, leaning against the counter.

He gives her an amused look before lifting the lid off one of the pots. An amazing aroma immediately fills the room. "No offense, but I think it's best if you stay right where you are," he replies, tasting whatever's in the pot. He's apparently happy with what he finds, because he puts the lid back on and turns the knob to lower the heat.

"I should be offended by that," she says, climbing onto one of the bar stools as gracefully as she can in her tight, faux-leather leggings. "But I'm used to it by now."

Bellamy chuckles and opens a cupboard where he finds two large bowls that he places on the counter, before taking the other pot off the stove and transferring its contents – rice – into one of them.

"You look amazing, by the way," he notes after he's put the pot into the sink and poured water into it. "I should have said that right away, but you…"

"Distracted you with my wonderful sense of humor," Clarke finishes the sentence for him, getting another laugh in return. "Thanks. You clean up nice too."

Nice might be an understatement – he clearly knows what works for him, if the grey-blue button down, rolled up to his elbows, and dark wash jeans are any indication. The top two buttons on the shirt are undone, giving her a peak at smooth, bronzed skin that makes her throat a little dry. She quickly averts her eyes, before he catches her.

"Thanks, I think," he replies drily. "What's with the two bottles of wine, by the way? Trying to get me drunk, Princess?"

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Would two bottles be enough if I were?"

He tilts his head to the side, watching her for a moment, eyes darkening slightly. "Maybe not, but it's a good start."

Clarke feels a tug low in her belly and decides that a change of topic is probably a good idea. He seems to have some sort of hang-up about the food not burning, after all, so the scene that just played out in her mind, of sweeping everything off the counter and pulling him down on top of her, will probably have to wait.

"Good to know. Honestly, I just wasn't sure what you liked, or what would go best with the food, so I got one bottle of red and one of white."

He nods and turns back to the stove. "I've never been good at the whole food/wine pairing, but either's fine with me."

Silence fills the room for a moment, but not a tense silence, more the type of silence that Clarke's used to from spending time with Raven or Wells, a comfortable silence.

"So, no Miller tonight?" she asks after a while. She figures if she's going to jump him in the living room later – which is looking like a distinct possibility – it'll be good to know if she needs to worry about the roommate walking in right in the middle.

"He and Jackson both managed to get yesterday off, actually, so they're visiting Jackson's parents on the west coast," Bellamy tells her, turning the stove off and using some tongs to move the chicken pieces to the second bowl before pouring the rest of the content in the pot over them. "It's the first time Miller's meeting them, he was really nervous when I drove them to the airport yesterday morning."

"Yeah, first time meeting the parents, never fun," she notes, though she actually has no experience with it. Every romantic drama she's ever watched, though, tells her that the first time meeting possible future in-laws is a big deal that's almost always preceded by a lot of nerves and often involves very awkward conversations where the main character does their best to get on the parents' good side.

She wonders if the trip was a last minute thing, or if Bellamy knew he'd have the apartment to himself when he invited her over… she hopes it's the second one.

"Exactly," he agrees. "One bonus of not having any left, I guess."

Clarke snorts. "Ouch, that was dark."

He pauses, hands reaching for the two bowls, and catches her eyes. "Too dark?"

"I've been told my humor can go pretty dark at times," she replies with a shrug. "Actually, morbid is the word Zeke sometimes uses when Raven and I get going, so you really don't need to worry about offending me."

"Good," he says, grabbing both bowls. "Right, I think this is all done, let's eat."

AN: I know, I know – when will she get to the good stuff already?! More date coming up in the next chapter, I promise – interpret that as you will ;)