"I could actually eat a horse," Clarke said, unlocking the front door and holding it open for Bellamy, who was carrying the McDonald's bag.

"Did you forget to eat lunch again?" Bellamy asked, a disapproving frown on his face.

"No," Clarke said, matter-of-fact.

"Clarke."

"I didn't forget!" she said. "…but I didn't have time to eat."

He continued frowning at her as they moved through the hallway towards the kitchen.

"It's fine. I'd probably weigh 400 pounds if I wasn't running around all the time. It's not like I have time to work out anymore."

"You do realize you're just making me worry more, right? I'm going to start following you around and throwing food at you every few hours."

She laughed, because she could pretty much picture him doing just that. "I will eat this entire Big Mac, I promise…all the fries too. Just so you don't blow a gasket." She turned around to face him, walking backwards into the kitchen as she teased him, "they haven't taught us how to fix those yet."

Bellamy's gaze went over her head, toward the other side of the kitchen. "Mrs. Griffin," he said.

Clarke's eyebrows rose as she turned around to find her mother leaning against the kitchen counter. "Mom!"

"Clarke. Bellamy," she said, nodding at him. "What happened?"

Clarke glanced at the note she'd left on the white board on the fridge. It read 'Water is turned off. At Lowe's with Bellamy. Explain later.'

She proceeded to explain what had happened with the shower in her bathroom, and how Bellamy had raced over to help her.

"It looks like something is wrong with the pipes in the wall, not just the shower head, but I won't know until I cut out a piece of drywall so I can see back there."

Abby looked at him a little warily. "You don't need to trouble yourself, Bellamy. We can call a plumber or a contractor to fix it."

Bellamy just looked at her, face a little tense.

Clarke looked back and forth between the two of them, trying to figure out what was going on. "Bellamy said he'd be happy to fix it for us, Mom."

"I think it would be better to call a professional, Clarke."

Bellamy didn't even try to hide his less than humorous snort.

"Mom!"

"Clarke, you don't have to…" Bellamy began.

"He is a 'professional' and you already know that. He's also the foreman for Miller Contracting's biggest crew now. He is literally the best there is and he's offering to fix this for us, and on a weekend." Clarke frowned at the woman across the room. "Why are you being like this?"

Abby was staring at the man standing beside her daughter. "You got promoted to foreman?" she asked, with a grudging amount of respect.

"Last year," Bellamy answered, a slight edge of hostility to his voice.

It was well known that Miller Contracting was the best construction crew in town, and David Miller was famous for running a tight ship with good employees who did great work. Bellamy had been working for him the entire time Clarke had known him, which Abby knew, given that she'd seen and interacted with Bellamy multiple times over the years.

Abby continued to stare at Bellamy with a less than friendly gaze. "We'll pay time and a half, of course, since it's the weekend," she said grudgingly.

Bellamy crossed his arms over his chest. "Clarke doesn't pay for favors."

"Yes, well, Clarke isn't paying. I am."

"Clarke doesn't pay for favors," he repeated, his tone even firmer.

Abby let out a huff, ready to argue again.

"I'll keep my receipts. You'll reimburse me for the supplies, but that's it."

Clarke watched as they engaged in a stare-off for a few more seconds, until Abby finally nodded grudgingly.

She turned to Clarke as she picked up her briefcase. "I just had to come home to pick up a few files and change for the board meeting tonight. I have a shift after, so I won't be back until morning." She turned briskly to Bellamy. "I trust we'll have running water by then?"

He nodded, arms still crossed over his chest.

With a nod, she went out the back door toward the garage, calling out, "See you tomorrow, Clarke," over her shoulder.

"Bye, Mom," Clarke responded, turning to Bellamy as soon as the door shut. "What the hell was that about?!" she asked.

"What do you mean?" he asked, opening the McDonald's bag and pulling out two orders of fries.

Clarke's eyes widened even further. "What do you mean, 'what do I mean?' You two just had a stand-off in the kitchen over plumbing issues. What the fuck?"

Bellamy shrugged, pulling out two Big Mac boxes and setting them beside the fries. "I don't know, Clarke. She just doesn't like me. You know she's never thought I was good enough," he said, sitting on one of the stools at the large island.

Clarke frowned, taking the seat beside him. "That's not true, Bellamy."

"It is. You just didn't want to see it."

She studied him, unsure of where this was coming from. "Bellamy, she invited you and Octavia to our house for every major holiday for like five years in a row."

"All rich people like to feel like they're doing something charitable every once in a while, especially around the holidays," he said, seemingly unconcerned as he took a bite of his hamburger.

Clarke was so taken aback, she was fairly sure she actually physically recoiled. "Bellamy…you don't think that's why…you don't think that I…" She wasn't sure whether she wanted to smack him for his idiocy or hug him if he really felt that way. "You're not a charity case. That's not why I…Jesus, Bellamy."

He finally looked at her. "I didn't say that about you, Clarke. I said your mom felt that way."

"Bellamy…she wanted you guys here. Honestly, I think she was really just glad that I had good friends again. After Wells died…it's not like I brought that many people around after that."

"Maybe," he said noncommittally.

Clarke tried to remember the last time her Mom and Bellamy had been around each other. If she remembered correctly, it was around a year and a half ago, for Easter dinner. Although they'd never seemed overly fond of each other, they'd always gotten along well enough, and Clarke didn't remember anything happening during their last interaction that would've changed that.

"I just…I have no idea where this is coming from," she tried again.

He finally managed a small smile, although it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm just reverting back to that teenager with a chip on his shoulder. Don't worry about it, Clarke." He nudged her food toward her. "Didn't you promise me something about how much of this ridiculously unhealthy food you were going to eat?"

Clarke picked up her burger, but found most of her appetite had disappeared.

Bellamy stepped out of the shower, wiping his hands on the rag he'd brought in with his tool box a while ago. There was currently a hunk of drywall cut out, exposing the pipes and the studs in the wall.

"It looks like you had a slow leak at one of the joints and it just let loose when you turned the shower on today, for some reason," he said, stopping in front of Clarke, who was standing in the doorway between her bedroom and bathroom.

"So…what now?" she asked, glancing around him at the damage.

"I capped off the pipe, so we can turn the water back on. I'd like to leave the wall open for a week or so to make sure it dries completely. Then I'll put new pipe in, patch the drywall, and install a new shower head. You can use one of the other showers until then, right?"

Clarke nodded.

"Or, you could always just come stay with me," he said, almost as an aside.

She smiled. "We have two other showers and Mom and I are rarely home at the same time anyway. I think I'll be okay."

He shrugged, moving to walk around her. "Offer still stands."

"I know. Thank you," she said, putting her hand on his back just as he moved past her, and then setting her chin on top of his shoulder when he paused. "Thank you for all this."

He turned his head to the side, nodding. "Any time, Clarke."

They stayed that way for a minute until he finally cleared his throat, taking a step forward. "I'll turn the water back on, then come up to make sure everything's okay. Be right back."

Clarke nodded, taking a seat on the edge of her bed while she waited.

In a few minutes, he came back upstairs, walking directly into the bathroom.

She followed, leaning against the door frame as she watched him take a look at the pipes in the wall, then turn on her sink.

"Everything looks good," he said, turning off the sink and leaning against the counter to look at her.

She nodded.

"I'll get going then," he said.

Clarke had some sort of a reaction to that…as in, she didn't want him to. Biting her bottom lip, she glanced at her watch. "You know…it's getting late."

"Which is why I should head home."

"Or…you could just stay here."

His eyebrows raised a little in surprise.

"It's a long drive, you know. And you're tired. And I've got a perfectly good bed right here…a few of them, actually," she said, smirking a little as she made sure to use the same reasons he usually used to get her to stay at his place.

"Clarke…I'm not really comfortable staying here," he admitted.

Her brow furrowed. "Why? I stay with you all the time."

"It's not that. Just…your mom…it's her house and…" he shrugged, looking away a little uncomfortably.

Clarke still wasn't sure where this sudden hostility between Bellamy and her mom was coming from, but she resolved to get to the bottom of it at some point. But for now… "Actually…" she said, eyes twinkling, a bit of a playful lilt to her voice.

"What?"

"I don't think I ever told you this…but this house is actually half mine."

Bellamy's eyes widened in surprise.

She nodded. "My dad left his half to me. So, you see…as long as you stay in the half of the house that belongs to me…"

One side of his mouth lifted in that trademark smirk. "What did you do? Put duct tape down the middle?"

"No. But that sounds like a great plan for tonight," she joked.

"Clarke…" he said, still sounding uncertain.

"She's not going to be here anyway, Bellamy. I'll be all alone in this giant house," she said, and if she sounded a little needy, she didn't really care; she wanted him with her.

He was watching her with an expression she couldn't quite name. "You could just come home with me," he said softly, and damn if Clarke didn't have to remind herself to start breathing again, forcing herself to remember that he didn't mean that the way it had sounded.

Truth be told, she'd rather go back to Bellamy's. She often found herself much more comfortable there…but then she'd have to ask herself why she would go to all that trouble just to spend more time with him. As long as he stayed at her house, then she could claim it was for safety and practicality's sakes.

She also wasn't above pissing her Mom off every now and again, and if Abby and Bellamy found themselves in some sort of pissing contest…she couldn't help but take Bellamy's side, given everything.

"Yes, but if you stay here long enough in the morning, maybe my Mom's face will do that thing again," she teased.

"The thing where she looked like she'd just eaten a lemon when she finally accepted my offer to help?"

"Yup. That's the one."

He chuckled, closing his eyes for a minute. When he opened them again, he smiled at her…the smile that reminded her of a little boy that was about to unapologetically get into trouble. It was one of her favorite Bellamy expressions. "I could go for another beer. It has kind of been a long day," he said, and Clarke knew that was his way of giving himself an excuse to stay.

She smiled, a sparkle in her eyes. "You know…we have bourbon downstairs."

He chuckled again, gesturing with an outstretched arm. "Lead the way."

They ended up on the back deck, huddled together under a big blanket, fancy glasses of bourbon in hand.

"The commute to the city would suck…but it might be worth it for this view," Bellamy said, staring out at the landscape in front of him.

Clarke followed his gaze, the moonlight illuminating the woods directly in front of them and allowing just a glimpse of the river at the bottom of the valley. She'd grown up here, so she didn't often notice it, but she could imagine how different it felt for Bellamy, who'd grown up in tiny apartments and had never lived outside the city. Given how much he enjoyed hiking, camping, and basically every other outdoor activity, she could see how he'd probably feel more comfortable in a place like this.

"I've never really thought about it, but yeah, I guess it was nice growing up here. Having some…space?"

He nodded. "I don't think the 'burbs are for me…but maybe a little house somewhere on a quiet street…somewhere you can hear yourself think. Hell, maybe I'll build it myself."

She nudged his shoulder under the blanket. "Bell, that would be amazing."

He continued staring out at the trees. "I'd get Miller to help me. Murphy, too. Bastard does the best damn tile work I've ever seen."

Clarke smiled at the grudging respect that was somehow mixed with disgust in his voice.

Bellamy finally turned to look at her, his expression slightly sheepish. "Must be the bourbon getting to me," he said, taking another swig.

"Bell…don't do that," she said, hating that the light had gone out of his eyes when he thought he was reaching for something unattainable.

"What? It's a pipe dream, Clarke. People like me don't get things like that," he muttered, looking back out at the woods, although it wasn't with the reverence of before.

She grasped his arm. "It's not a pipe dream, Bellamy. And don't sell yourself short," she commanded, voice firm as she tried to get him to see the potential in himself that she saw. "You're making decent money now, aren't you?"

He shrugged.

"And I know you, you're saving and investing every spare penny, right?"

Bellamy was unflinchingly generous when it came to others, especially his sister, but after the way he'd grown up, he was loathe to spend any unnecessary money on himself.

He shrugged again.

She clenched his arm tighter, forcing him to look at her. "Stop that. You have a great job, you work ridiculously hard, and you're making good money. Keep saving like you already do anyway, and you can probably do it in a few years. You're not that kid anymore, Bellamy. Don't keep telling yourself that you can't have things…because you can."

"Not everything, Clarke."

"Why not?"

"Some things will always be just out of reach for someone like me," he said, and she knew they weren't just talking about a house anymore.

"No, they won't," she insisted. "They aren't."

He shook his head, staring down at the liquid in his glass.

"Why?" she asked.

"What if it changes everything?" he asked quietly.

"What if it makes everything better?" she countered, just as quietly.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, him staring at the bourbon in his glass and her staring at him, until a shiver worked its way through her.

He finally glanced at her. "It's too cold out here," he said, draining his glass. "We should go in."

She followed suit, leading them inside.

They deposited their empty glasses in the kitchen, then walked down the hallway toward the staircase.

When Clarke's foot was on the first step, Bellamy's voice rang out behind her.

"I can just go," he said, hands in the front pockets of his jeans. "I'm fine to drive."

Clarke turned around, hand on her hip.

They engaged in something of a stare-down for a few seconds, until he finally relented.

"Lead the way," he said, gesturing up the stairs.

She turned, hiding her grin as she led him upstairs and down the hallway to one of their spare bedrooms.

"So you've got a queen size bed, a tv, and a decent view of the backyard," she said, turning on the light and stepping inside to make sure everything was ready for him. "Not to mention…I've now officially chosen this room as part of my half of the house, so you're firmly on Clarke territory here," she joked.

"It's great, Clarke. Thanks."

She nodded.

"Do you care if I take a shower?"

"Of course not. Let me go see if we have a dry towel left somewhere in this house."

Clarke headed down to the laundry room where, thankfully, there were a couple towels that had just been washed and no one had bothered to put away yet. Remembering that she'd put Bellamy's wet shirt in the dryer a while ago, Clarke grabbed it too.

She walked back into the guest room, handing Bellamy one of the towels and his shirt. "There should be soap and shampoo and whatever else in there. Let me know if you need anything else."

"Thanks," he said, walking down the hallway toward the main bathroom.

Clarke watched him go, covering a huge yawn just as he shut the door.

Deciding to wait for him, she grabbed the remote, sitting down on the bed as she flipped through the channels, finding the network they usually watched.

Her eyes started going shut just as Jeannie blinked herself into her bottle in an attempt to hide from Dr. Bellows.

She forced her eyes partway open a few minutes later when she felt someone pulling the covers over her.

"Go back to sleep," Bellamy whispered.

"Mmhmm," she murmured, closing her eyes again until she heard him walking away from the bed. "Where are you going?"

"Well, I found Goldilocks asleep in my bed, so…"

She huffed, turning back the covers. "Come on, Grumpy Bear."

He walked back over to the bed, staring down at her. "You're mixing your fairy tales, Clarke."

"Mmhmm," she mumbled again, still holding back the covers.

"You sure?"

"Bel. La. My." She said, drawing out each syllable as her eyes drifted back shut.

She finally felt him get in bed next to her, laying on his back a good foot away.

Grumbling, she scooted closer, nudging against him until his arm surrounded her.

"Night, Bell," she murmured, head on his chest.

"Night, Clarke."