This has to be done sarcastically. Come on, Moondust Stables? Even Clarke's thought-voice automatically said the ranch's name in a whiny, mocking tone. She scoffed as she steered her car to hug the turn of the long dirt driveway. But although she was skeptical of the sobriquet, the beauty of the place could not be denied. Pastures bordered the road up until the house was reached, which itself was big and beige and wonderfully designed. The vine-webbed pillars lining the front porch satisfied some architectural longing Clarke didn't even know she possessed.

A truck was parked in a grassy area between the house and burnt-orange barn, and she pulled in next to it. Allowing her car (affectionately named Sebastian) to hum in park, she retrieved her phone to text Octavia.

Just arrived. No one is supposed to be here right?

As she sat there awaiting a response, a sobering thought dawned on her. It couldn't be him, right? He was supposed to arrive the next day. Steeling herself internally, she reluctantly turned Sebastian off and went to confirm her fears.

Naturally, the key wasn't under the mat, a fact which drew a whispered, "That fucker must be here," from Clarke. When she tried the door it swung open easily, which was yet another testimony to the man's idiocy.

"Bellamy, where are you? Don't be frightened, it's not a horse. Just Clarke," she called out, closing the door and pointedly locking it.

She expected some hollered remark, but there was nothing.

"Bellamy?," she called again, scanning the kitchen and living room displayed before her. To her surprise, the place was tastefully decorated and didn't involve any standard country fads. She poked her heads into a few other rooms on the first floor, but her adversary was nowhere to be found. For a moment she thought maybe, just maybe, he was being productive and had already started on his work, but a quick scan across each pasture shot down that sparkle of hope. He must be in the house.

She mounted the stairs, but still heard nothing, saw nothing. There were five bedrooms, one of which was the master, but since she figured he'd leave that one untouched, she checked all the rest first. Predictably, there was still nothing. It's worth a shot, she thought with a shrug, pushing open the door of the master bedroom.

And she found him, alright. With company, too.

A beautiful girl was laying across the bed, her peach dress (which went incredibly with her dark skin, Clarke noticed) hiked up around her ribcage. Bellamy was propped up over her, his frankly ridiculous body donned in nothing but boxers. Great. As she watched, he gave the surreal beauty a dark-eyed, hungry look before bending his head to kiss and scrape his teeth against her midriff.

"Oh my god!," the girl exclaimed, pushing Bellamy's head away so she could tug down her dress. He turned to look at Clarke, his muscles taut while he still held himself over the body he had been so preoccupied with. When her eyes met his, several things happened at once. She got pissed for one, and then flustered, and then downright hot. But she stoically ignored the last thing.

"Really dude? In your cousin's room?" Shaking her head and trying to dispel the awkwardness, she made her leave.

Her hand fell from the doorknob and she stood outside the room for a moment, her heart pounding. Shut up, body!, she thought bitingly. She had just walked in on the most intimate, erotic moment and she didn't know whether she wanted both of them, or if she was just jealous of Bellamy. Or was she jealous of the girl..? The thought was shunned as soon as it occurred to her, replaced by a small laugh escaping her lips while she walked away from the door. Clarke was not a jealous girl, but of all things, she would never be jealous of getting kissed by Bellamy.

Her phone buzzed as she pounded back down the stairs to get her bags.

Uh ya I lied, Bellamy got there today. Sorry babe :)

Yes I see that. And he brought a friend too.

Ooh, is it Jasper? I love that boy

A half naked friend.

Clarke shoved her phone into the depths of her pocket when she got to the car, sacrificing the painful conversation in favor of grabbing her two bags. On the way back into the house and across the first story, the image of them together flashed through her mind an unnecessary amount of times. To make matters worse, she nearly dropped her bags when halfway up the stairs a chorus of moans and thumps reached her ears. She was totally unequipped to handle the sounds of them fucking, so she just dropped her bags off in front of a random room and fled outside once more, telling herself she needed to read the feeding instructions.

Unfortunately enough for her, the neighbor lady had already fed the animals, so that wasn't an option for time occupation until the pair finished. Feeling incredibly out of place and already dreading the rest of her stay, she made the decision to hide out in the barn for a while.

When she finally resolved to leave her hideout, a present was waiting for her outside. Bellamy stood there, clothed now in jeans and a black t shirt much to her relief. The image from earlier that day bobbed to the surface of her mind, prompting her to turn away and focus on pulling shut one of the heavy barn doors. She didn't even know what she was thinking, she sure as hell didn't want him to see anything etched upon her face.

"Need some help with that?" His rich voice didn't sound mocking, but Clarke knew better than to mistake his monotone for something else.

She continued to stoically heave at the ridiculous thing, having to lend most of her body weight into forcing the door into the middle of the track. Before she finished with hers, Bellamy took hold of the other door and effortlessly tugged it into place. Resisting the urge to shoot him a glare, she latched the entrance with maybe a bit too much force.

He waited there, watching her. But the girl couldn't hold a normal conversation with him, couldn't bring herself to face those intense eyes dead on. So she turned the opposite direction and began to walk toward the house. If he wanted to talk to her, then fine, but it would be done in motion.

Much to her disappointment, he caught up with her in a few strides and breached the conversation she so desperately wished to avoid. "You know, you really shouldn't just go barging into people's rooms."

"You really shouldn't forget to lock the door. The front one was open as well, are you trying to get your cousin's shit stolen?"

He breathed a low laugh, shaking his head. She glanced at him as he did this, mildly fascinated by the way his curls splayed across his forehead. But then, fucking again, it reminded her of earlier. Get a grip, Griffin. It wasn't that sexual. "We're in the country, no one's going to rob this place. And I didn't forget to lock the bedroom door. Octavia said you wouldn't be here until tomorrow."

Clarke grimaced and folded her arms across herself, lending her body extra warmth against the chill of the nearing nighttime. "Big surprise." And then, an actual surprise, she granted him a rare nugget of honesty. "That girl you were with really was beautiful."

He looked over at her, his mouth slightly open in surprise. "Is that jealousy I hear, Clarke Griffin?" He stopped, and much to her dismay, her legs stopped walking as well. His face grew solemn and he leaned in a bit, mostly over her because fuck he's tall. "Do you want me instead?" Before a blush of fury (or whatever) could even rise to her face, he turned away and chuckled. With a mild sense of embarrassment, she realized he was kidding and not, in fact, calling her out.

"Very funny. I meant it appreciatively. I do love dark haired girls," she admitted, partly just throwing her bisexuality into the conversation to surprise him.

Unfortunately for her, there was no way to tell if he was affected by this. His face was of stone when he swung open the front door, gesturing through it with a flourish. "After you," he intoned humbly, and even then she couldn't stop the suspicion she felt at his manners. Pursing her lips, she swept through the door and towards the kitchen. "You're right, she is beautiful, but we're mostly just friends. She's having a hard time right now and needed a distraction. I like to think I was useful."

She rolled her eyes to herself while she bent over to retrieve a beer from the fridge. "Doctor Blake, bursting in to save the day," she noted dryly, straightening. He moved towards the fridge and Clarke went into flight mode, but even if she could slink across the room, there was nowhere left to run from their conversation. The barn was out of the question (and cold now) and she was having a full-on 100% talk with him. About sex. She went to the sliding double doors that lead to the side balcony, intent on appreciating the last of the colors leaking from the eastern horizon. She didn't get to, for in a fraction of a second he snatched her gaze with his own and didn't break it as he got a beer for himself. When he approached her, stopping a few feet away to peel open the lid on the counter, the silence became too potent for her to bear. "Is she asleep upstairs?"

He shook his head and took a swig of the Bud Lite. "She left half an hour ago, he car was parked at the end of the driveway. Didn't want to get it dirty," he noted with small but affectionate smile.

Suddenly Clarke needed a change in conversation. "So, you're terrified of horses, huh? Did one bite you when you were a child or something?"

His expression became thunderous. "Fuck off, Griffin," he said tiredly, coming over to slide the doors open and step outside. She stepped back quickly as he passed, but even so his shoulder nudged against her back and for a moment she thought she might choke.

That could've been it. She could've been all, "Seeya later 'fraidy cat," and retreated to her room, neither of them the worse for wear. For the first time that night, she was in control of the situation.

But did she do what her consciousness was shrieking at her to do?

Fuck no.

She stepped out behind him, hovering near the door and analyzing his back. Mostly because it was the only part of him she could see, as he was leaning heavily on the balcony facing away from her, but some small part of her mind (a very small part) was really appreciating roving her eyes across his tense shoulders. "Octavia's birthday is coming up."

"And?"

"And, we're having a surprise party at Indra's beach house."

She could practically hear the sneer in his words. "And no one thought to include me in the planning?"

"Get over yourself, dude. What the hell do you think I'm doing right now? It's not for a month, you can help us plan shit out if it's going to soothe your offende-"

He straightened suddenly and wheeled around to face her down, his dark eyes glinting coldly in the dim light. "Jesus, don't you have science books to read for fun or something? You're the last person I want to talk to about Octavia's birthdays." His words were like icy daggers against her ears, and she gaped at him in shock.

Never, not even once in the two years that followed O's 21st, the night that Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin had first met, had they ever spoken about "the incident."

Wordlessly, she set her beer down on top of a grill positioned beside her and walked back into the house.

So, some stuff going on in this chapter. If I did my job right, then there should be a feeling of inferred spite growing between them. They have some biz in the past that's too awkward to bear (haven't fully decided what it is yet) and their awkwardness translated into hatred because they're both shit at communicating their feelings.

I'm debating doing the next chapter from B's point of view, but I guess we'll see what happens.

Please review, and feel free to request stuff! :)