"I still don't see why we couldn't just have it at my place," Clarke grumbles, tearing open another bag of smiley fries and dumping them onto the cookie sheet.
"Because you live in a really nice building, but your neighbours are snooty," Raven replies from the living room, unloading another case of beer into the cooler. "They would definitely complain about the noise."
At that, Clarke straightens up, frowning across the loft at her.
"What? There are like five people coming."
Raven doesn't respond to that.
"Raven." Still nothing. "How many people did you invite, exactly?"
The brunette shrugs, unloading the last can and flattening the box.
"I don't know, ten?" she says innocently. Clarke groans.
"Oh my god. You invited half of Manhattan didn't you."
That just earns her another shrug.
Just as Clarke shoves the last batch of fries into the oven, someone knocks on the door.
"I'll get it," she calls, wondering who exactly shows up an hour early to a party. She pulls open the door to find a scruffy looking blonde with a goatee, holding what appears to be a flyer. Clarke gets a very bad feeling in her stomach.
"Hello," he says. Clarke blinks.
"Hello."
He holds up the piece of paper.
"Someone shoved this under my door. Are you having a party?"
She stares at him.
"Just a minute." Turning back to the living room, she shouts, "RAVEN!"
Her friend wanders over, a half eaten smiley fry in her hand. Goatee takes this in with interest.
"Did you hand out flyers?" Clarke hisses, just low enough that she hopes the man can't hear them. Raven frowns.
"Of course not. What are you talking about?"
Clarke gestures at the guy standing in the hallway, clutching a piece of paper.
"Oh," Raven says. She looks up at Goatee, crossing her arms. "That was a notice. As in 'Hey neighbours, I'm having a party. We're going to be loud. Please don't report me to the property manager.' Not an invitation."
He looks a little offended.
"Yeah, I know. I was just coming to ask if you thought it was going to go all night or not. I'm working on a design for a municipal on-grid backup power supply, and I just wanted to know if I should crash at the office tonight."
That perks Raven right up, her eyes dragging over him with a newfound interest.
"You're working on the GenRon project?"
He blinks at the sudden change in mood.
"Uh, yeah. I'm an engineer."
Her interest quickly turns to disdain.
"Oh," she sneers. "For a second there I thought you might be interesting."
Instead of being insulted, he grins.
"Oh, I know who you are. You're Reyes, aren't you?"
"The one and only. And you are?"
"Kyle Wick." He holds out his hand. For a second Raven just looks at it, then she takes it with a sigh.
"Well I would tell you the party will probably be wrapping up by two or three, but you should probably drag your ass to the office anyways. I know how you engineers like to change your designs every five minutes. Not like that makes my job more difficult or anything."
"Oh, we just do it to keep your ego in check. If we don't let a little air out of your inflated head every once in a while, you might just float away. And then what would do?" Wick replies, smug.
Clarke just watches the exchange in amusement. She's yet to meet someone who can match Raven quip for quip, but this guy might just give her a run for her money.
"Why don't you come to the party?" Clarke asks, already forming a plan. Both of them turn to stare at her in surprise.
"What?" he asks.
"Yeah," Raven agrees, "what?"
"Look, you're not going to get any work done anyways. You should just come by for a bit."
Wick scratches his beard, looking between the two women curiously. His eyes land on Raven, and her petulant scowl.
"I'd love to," he announces, grinning when Raven's displeasure only seems to intensify.
"Come back in an hour," Clarke tells him. He nods, then disappears into a door across the hall, whistling.
As soon as he's gone, Raven rounds on Clarke.
"What the hell?"
Clarke shrugs.
"I think he'd be good for you. Besides, it's a bad idea to alienate your neighbours."
Raven looks like she's about to say something else, but they're both distracted when the smoke alarm goes off.
"Shit!" Clarke races toward the kitchen. "The fries."
.-.-.-.-.
A couple hours later, the party is in full swing. It's not quite half of Manhattan, but Raven has expanded the guest list considerably. People Clarke have never seen before are packing the apartment, and though her original plan had just been to order two or three pizzas from the place downstairs, the delivery guy calls up before he comes to announce that he's making multiple trips.
Just as she thinks of it, the same delivery guy walks by, a beer in his hand. Clarke shakes her head. Raven.
They've stopped answering the door at this point, it's impossible to hear, so they've just taped a sign on the inside of it announcing that whoever is closest when the doorbell rings has to open it. The small party has turned into something reminiscent of Clarke's college days. But her friend seems to be having a good time, so it's worth it.
Wick shows up about an hour after the party starts. He waltzes into the kitchen looking entirely at home, drops a case of beer in front of Raven, and only smiles widely when she gives him the finger before walking away.
"I like her," he tells Clarke, cracking open one of the beers he brought. She suppresses a chuckle.
"Good luck with that."
Eventually, Clarke notices that one of the few faces she actually was expecting is nowhere to be found.
"Rey," she squeezes through the throng of people and makes her way over to the birthday girl. "Did Octavia not show?"
Raven blinks, apparently already drunk.
"Uh, she's going to be late. She needed to get a ride."
"Oh. Right, she can't drive." Clarke probably should have thought of that, offered to get one of the other guests to pick her up.
"Yeah. That Wick guy is an ass. I kicked him out like half an hour ago, and he just wouldn't leave," Raven mutters, her eyes tracking him across the room.
"Uh-huh." Clarke watches her, watching him, and just shakes her head. There's a brief pause in the music, and for the first time in a while, Clarke actually hears the doorbell. "I'm going to get that."
She pushes back through the crowd, all of which are apparently ignoring the sign, and opens the door.
"Octavia." Clarke smiles. "Hey, I'm glad you could make it."
"I brought ice."
Clarke scans her, puzzled when she doesn't see anything in her hands.
"You…"
"Well, technically, Bellamy brought ice," Octavia clarifies, and her brother chooses that moment to appear, grunting as he carries over two massive bags of ice. He stops when he sees Clarke.
"Hi," she says, surprised. Her eyes flit to his arms, which are bulging under the strain of the ice.
"Uh, hi." He looks just as confused as she is, maybe more. Clarke steps aside to let them in, pointing them toward the kitchen, and the fridge.
"You remember Clarke," Octavia tells her brother. "She's the ER doctor."
"Trauma surgeon," Bellamy corrects automatically, and both women stare at him.
"Right," Octavia gives him a strange look. "I'm going to go find Raven. Thanks for the ride."
She nods at her brother, then disappears into the mob. When she's gone, Bellamy turns back for the door.
"Okay, well. See ya."
Clarke stares at him.
"You're leaving?"
He frowns at her.
"Uh, yeah? I just came to drop O off." His hands are in his pockets again, something Clarke notices he does whenever he's uncomfortable.
"Don't be weird. Stay for a bit, have some food," she says, nodding at the food on the table. "Unfortunately for you, Jasper got high and ate all the smiley fries, but we have like ten pizzas left."
He hesitates.
"I don't even know whose party this is."
Clarke rolls her eyes, scanning the crowd for Raven. When she finds her, she points.
"That's Raven. She's not going to mind. Trust me."
Bellamy seems to be struggling to make a decision, but he eventually reaches out, snagging one of Wick's beers. Clarke grabs one for herself, humming in approval, and they turn their backs to the counter, looking out at the party.
"Octavia didn't tell me you were throwing the party."
"Yeah," Clarke takes a swig of her beer. "I kind of got that. Seems to be a theme with you two."
He looks over at her, frowning.
"What?"
She sighs.
"Nothing. Look, I-" She doesn't get a chance to finish her sentence, because Jasper chooses that moment to shout "COP!"
Head snapping to look at the door, Clarke sees him standing there, accompanied by a surly but attractive, twenty-something cop in full uniform. She moves toward them, but Raven beats her to it.
"Ohh." The birthday girl grins. "Are you here for a noise complaint?"
The cop nods, looking confused by the smile plastered on her face.
"Uh, yeah. One of your neighbours called it in, look, you guys need to-"
"This is great." Raven laughs, turning to wink at Clarke. "Seriously you shouldn't have."
"What?" Clarke stares at her, confusion turning to horror when she realizes her friend's mistake. "Oh god, Raven, no-"
Suddenly, Raven leans forward, popping open the first two buttons on his uniform. His eyes bulge in shock, and Clarke practically climbs over the crowd that have gathered around them in an effort to stop this before it goes any further.
"Lady, you realize you're assaulting a police officer-"
"So cuff me," Raven purrs, and yeah, she's totally wasted. The cop just snatches her hand, flicking it away from his chest.
"Fuck," Clarke finally breaks through the sea of people, pushing Raven off to the side. "I'm sorry, it's her birthday, she's really drunk."
His eyes are still wide with surprise, and they flit between Clarke and Raven suspiciously. The brunette starts pushing at Clarke's back, whining.
"Raven," Clarke hisses, doing her best to restrain her friend. "Please stop. He's not a stripper, okay? He's an actual cop, who I'm trying to talk out of pressing charges against you for sexual assault." Raven stops, blinking.
"A stripper?" The cop repeats indignantly. "Excuse me? What do you-"
"Miller?"
The cop falls silent as Bellamy appears beside her, his mouth falling open.
"Bellamy?"
Clarke glances between the two of them curiously.
"What the fuck," begins the cop, "is going on?"
The two men turn to look at Clarke, who just throws her hands in the air.
"Raven thought he was a stripper," she offers, and Bellamy snorts while Miller flushes.
"Reaallyyy," Bellamy drawls, smirking.
"Shut up," Miller snaps. Clarke is still confused.
"Do you two know each other?" Still smirking, Bellamy nods.
"We were roommates when I was an undergrad. I can't believe you've been moonlighting all these years and I never knew," he adds, and Miller's scowl deepens.
"I could arrest you, you know."
"Uh-huh, for what?"
"You're not going to arrest me are you, because it's my birthday-"
"Miller?"
"Octavia?"
"She thought you were a stripper, oh dude, I am so telling Murphy-"
"OKAY!" Clarke holds her hands up again, disrupting the chaotic four-way conversation that's broken out. She turns to Miller. "Raven is very sorry, and we'll keep it down. Bellamy, leave him alone." Suddenly struck by an idea, she smiles, turning back to the policeman. "When's your shift over?"
He looks down at his watch.
"Five minutes ago, this was my last call. Why?"
Octavia, catching on, reaches out to pull him inside, and Clarke shuts the door behind him.
"Here," Octavia presses a beer into his hand. "Hang out for a bit."
.-.-.-.
Everything flows smoothly after that, until eleven-thirty.
Clarke is smoking on the balcony when Bellamy finds her. He raises an eyebrow, placing his bottle on the railing.
"I would have thought that, as a doctor, you would know how bad for you those things are."
She sighs.
"I do. I only smoke when I'm drunk. Or after funerals." But she crushes the butt into the empty glass in front of her anyways.
"You go to a lot of those?"
She shrugs.
"More than I'd like."
The night air is cool on her face, refreshing after the stifling heat inside. When she sneaks a glance at him he's leaning over the railing, looking out at the city.
"We just keep seeming to run into each other, huh?" he asks, tracking the movement of a bus on the street below.
"Sure seems like it," she agrees, swiping his beer and taking a swig.
"I guess it could be worse."
Clarke glances over at him. Is he flirting with her? He turns a lazy smile on her, tugging the bottle from her hands. He is.
"I-" She's about to return the favour, when her eyes fall on Raven through the glass door, cornered by some guy. All she can see is the back of his head, but she recognizes his sweater. "You have got to be kidding me."
Handing the beer back to Bellamy, she marches inside, placing a hand on Finn's shoulder and spinning him around. He stares at her in shock, mouth dropping open.
"Clarke?"
"What," she asks, "are you doing here?"
He glances back at Raven, then at the angry blonde in front of him.
"It's her birthday," he says weakly.
"Yeah," Clarke crosses her arms over her chest. "I know. I threw her this party."
His eyes widen. She takes a moment to look at her friend, the rosy glow gone from her cheeks, eyes sad. The anger bubbling in the pit of Clarke's stomach erupts.
"Get out of here, Finn," she says loudly, catching Wick's eye with a wave of her hand. Finn doesn't move, but Wick sidles over, curious. Clarke leans in, whispering in his ear. "Can you get her out of here, please?" The engineer takes one look at Raven, then nods, guiding her away with a hand on her arm. Finn watches this uneasily.
"Who was that guy?" he asks, then suddenly seems to notice Bellamy. "And what's he doing here?"
"Finn. Go. Home." Clarke snarls. She feels a hand on her shoulder, but ignores it.
"I just wanted to say happy birthday!" Finn insists. "You don't get it, we always spent her birthday together, ever since we were kids, and-"
Her last shred of self-control falling away, Clarke steps forward, until her finger is jabbing directly into his chest.
"You cheated on her. You hurt her, Finn, and you coming here tonight is only making that worse. You don't get to keep forcing your way into her life just to make yourself feel better." Her eyes blaze. His mouth twists, face changing.
"Are we still talking about Raven, Princess?" Finn asks, leaning in to meet her, noses almost touching. Suddenly, he's stumbling backward, and Bellamy is standing in front of her.
"I think you've been asked to leave," he says quietly, his deep voice carrying through the din of the party. Finn glares up at him.
"No offense, but who the fuck are you?"
Bellamy laughs, eyes flashing dangerously. He steps forward.
"Someone who was invited."
Out of nowhere, Miller appears, and Clarke is suddenly glad he didn't go back to the precinct to change. Finn eyes his uniform, seeming to shrink in on himself.
"Is there a problem?" he asks, and Clarke has been watching him interact with Bellamy all night, so she happens to know he's putting on this air of intimidation just for Finn's benefit.
"Finn was just leaving," she says firmly. Finally, he seems to accept this, giving her a last look of betrayal before heading for the door. As soon as it shuts behind him, Clarke feels her whole body go lax with relief.
"Who was that?" Miller asks curiously. Bellamy shoots him a look, but Clarke just shakes her head.
"Ex. Mine, Raven's. It's a long story."
Miller opens his mouth to say something, then seems to change his mind.
"Okay, then." He shrugs and walks away, dropping next to Monty on the couch. Clarke files that particular observation in the back of her mind for later analysis.
"Raven's the girl."
Clarke jumps, having forgotten Bellamy was there.
"Oh, yeah."
When she looks up at him, he's peering down at her looking bemused, like he can't quite figure her out.
"Is there…I feel like I'm missing something. Why are you throwing her a birthday party?"
Clarke gestures toward the hallway, and he follows her into Raven's home office, which is basically just a room full of power tools and scraps of metal. She closes the door behind them, and the noise of the party cuts in half.
"I threw her a party because we're friends, and because she told me she always spends her birthday with Finn. I didn't want her to spend it moping."
He just continues to stare at her, brow furrowed.
"What?" She crosses her arms over her chest defensively.
"It's weird."
"It's not weird."
"Griffin, it's weird."
She blinks.
"Since when do you call me Griffin?"
He scowls, looking down to pick a piece of lint off the sleeve of his plaid flannel shirt. He seems to have a lot of those.
"Well, I figured you probably weren't big on Princess anymore." His voice is neutral, almost purposefully so. Clarke studies his face, the tense set of his jaw.
"I don't mind. I would have told you if it bothered me."
He glances back up, searching her eyes for something. Confirmation, maybe.
"Hmph," he finally grunts. "Good to know."
"Can we go back to the party now?"
He ruffles her hair as he walks past, and Clarke can't help but wonder if they'll ever stop leaving all their meetings up to chance.