A/N: This chapter contains my favorite sentence I've ever written...just fyi.

Clarke stopped just inside the door of Bellamy's apartment, taking off her shoes.

"Be right back," Bellamy said, heading into his bedroom. They were long past the "make yourself comfortable" phase.

"You care if I use your computer for a sec?" Clarke asked.

"Go ahead. Password is Alpha Quadrant. Two words, both capitalized," he called over his shoulder, disappearing into his room.

"You're a giant dork!" she replied.

"You love it!" he called from the other room.

Yeah. Yeah, she kind of did.

She got his laptop off the coffee table, sitting down at the counter and setting it up. After she typed in his ridiculous password, she was greeted with an open internet browser.

Mulling it over for a nanosecond, she decided to let her curiosity get the better of her. After all, she was pretty sure she could guess what most 29-year-old single males looked at on a regular basis on their computer. Truth be told, she was a little curious as to what he enjoyed in that department…purely for scientific reasons, of course.

She was a little disappointed when she only found three tabs open and none of them were the slightest bit salacious.

The only things open were his Gmail account, Facebook, and a Youtube tutorial on…How to Stain Glass? "Seriously, Bellamy. Are you a 29-year-old man or a 65-year-old grandmother?" she muttered under her breath.

She quickly downloaded Skype and signed into her account, then texted Octavia.

Clarke: you ready?

Octavia: and waiting

Clarke: I'm going to call you, but don't say anything yet. I'm going full on stealth surprise mode here.

Octavia: (thumbs up emoji)

Clarke called Octavia, waving enthusiastically when the other girl's face popped up.

Octavia returned her exuberant but silent greeting.

"Hey, Bell, you coming?" Clarke called out.

In a few seconds, he came walking out of his bedroom door, hand ruffling through his hair.

Clarke turned sideways in the chair, her eyes traveling the length of his body, surprised to find him in actual pajamas for once. They were the quintessential navy blue checkered pants and plain light grey Henley that every man probably owned at one point in his life or another.

Clarke was slightly surprised that they had any new moments of intimacy left unexplored between them, at least beyond the sexual, but this felt like one. She wasn't sure she'd seen him in actual pajamas before, which was ironic since she ended up sleeping with him at least once or twice a week.

The thin shirt molded itself to his broad shoulders and defined upper arms, then left his muscular forearms bare where he had the sleeves pushed up. It was…a good look on him. A really good look.

"Not a word," he said still looking down as he mussed his hair. "All my sweats are dirty except the pair…" He looked up, stopping in the middle of his sentence as he saw Clarke sitting at the counter and the real-time image of his sister smirking on the laptop screen behind her. "What is this?"

Clarke shrugged, smiling as she hopped down from the bar stool. "I thought you could use some face-to-face Blake bonding time."

His face split into a grin, and then he was striding across the room toward her, hooking an arm around the back of her neck to pull her tightly to his chest.

She was pretty sure she felt him kiss the top of her head.

"Thank you," he said, just for her.

She nodded, stepping back and then turning back to the laptop. "Bye, Octavia! I'll call you tomorrow."

"Can't wait!" Octavia responded.

With that, Clarke gave Bellamy a gentle shove toward the bar stool she'd just vacated, then headed toward his bedroom.

"Clarke, you don't have to leave," he called after her.

"Talk to your sister, Bell," she said with a gentle smile to show him she wasn't at all put out.

She heard the beginning of their conversation as she walked into his bedroom.

"Hey, O. Long time no see."

"Hey, big brother. Why is Clarke at your apartment at 1 in the morning and why are you in your pajamas?"

"I need to do laundry!"

"That was not the point of that line of questioning and you know it."

Clarke snorted, walking further into his bedroom where their voices were less distinguishable. She found the pair of grey sweat pants she'd pretty much claimed and a t-shirt that said "Miller Contracting" on it folded on the bed.

That must have been what Bellamy was going to say before she surprised him with his sister…all his sweatpants were dirty except the pair he'd been saving for her.

Smiling, she took them into the bathroom to change.

When she came out a few minutes later, borrowed clothes on and hair in a messy bun, she walked over to the bedroom door, glancing out in the living room.

The sight in front of her made her heart happy. Both Blake siblings were leaning toward their computer screens, Octavia was talking a mile a minute, and they were both beaming.

In that moment, Clarke thought she might have a little bit of an understanding of how Bellamy felt at the bar.

Turning back into his room, she flopped on the bed, scrolling through various social media apps to pass the time.

She had fallen into some sort of Tumblr fandom hole when she heard silence from the other room for the first time. Glancing up, she saw Bellamy standing in the doorway, looking at her oddly.

"What?" she asked.

He shook his head, as if to clear it. "Octavia wants to say bye."

"Oh. Okay," she said, getting up and scooting past him. She noticed he stayed in his room, probably to give her and Octavia a minute of privacy.

"What's up?" Clarke asked, sitting down on the stool in front of the laptop.

"Are you and my brother…a thing?"

Clarke's eyebrows rose. "What?! I mean, we…no! Of course not!"

Octavia just looked at her slightly cynically. "He broke up with Gina, right? Like…right after you came back?"

"But that's not…" Clarke couldn't seem to form complete sentences.

"And am I mistaken, or is it…" she glanced at her phone. "Almost 1:30 in the morning, and you're in his apartment, he's in pajamas, and you're…" she squinted, studying Clarke. "…wearing his shirt?!"

Clarke sighed. "I drank a little too much at the bar. Your brother was nice enough to offer me his couch. That's all."

Octavia's eyes narrowed, unconvinced. "Please. Like he'd ever let you sleep on the couch."

Clarke shut her eyes, beginning to feel a headache forming. "Octavia…"

"Why didn't you just stay with Raven?"

Clarke's eyes snapped open. "Cause she actually does have a new boyfriend. Why don't you go harass her about her love life, since she actually has one?!"

Octavia frowned, clearly not pleased at being left out of so many loops. "You know, just because I'm currently on the other side of the country doesn't mean you guys are allowed to stop telling me things!"

Clarke smirked, reaching for the top of the computer and slowing starting to close it. "Got to go. Talk to you later!"

"I hate you, Griffin!"

"Love you too!" Clarke smirked, shutting the laptop.

Bellamy strolled back out of his bedroom, hands in his pockets. "Did she ask you a bunch of really uncomfortable questions about why you were in my apartment too?"

"Yup."

He rolled his eyes, going to sit on the couch and picking up the remote. "She's a little pain in the ass."

"She's a big pain in the ass," Clarke corrected.

"Thanks for…" he gestured in the direction of his computer.

Clarke smiled. "You're welcome," she said, coming over to sit down beside him.

Bellamy turned on the TV, flipping to their channel, which was currently showing an episode of Soap.

"This show was so far ahead of its time," Clarke remarked.

"No kidding," he replied, tilting his neck from side to side and then rolling his shoulders, wincing the entire time.

She took in his contortions, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"Huh?" He glanced at her, apparently surprised she'd noticed. "Oh, nothing. I spent the last couple days installing overhead lighting at that new build we're doing over in Eagle Park. I guess it fucked up my shoulders."

Clarke took in his posture, which seemed unnatural, and her frown grew. Bellamy wasn't one to complain about pain, so if he was, it must really be bothering him.

Without really even considering it, she climbed up on the couch behind him, wedging herself between his back and the back of the couch.

"…what are you doing?" he asked warily.

"I didn't have a great view of the TV," she joked. "Thought it might be better from up here," she said, pulling his shoulders back and hearing his spine crack.

He made an involuntary moan. "Smart ass."

"I am. Now shut up and let me fix your back," she said, running her hands over his shoulders, pressing in various places to try to determine what was wrong.

She started using the heels of her hands to rub circles along the curves of his shoulder blades.

"Whaaaat are you doing?" he asked, his voice a little unsteady.

"You've got knots in your trapezius muscles," she said, pressing on one to prove her point.

"Ow!" He exclaimed, shying away.

"Come here, you big baby," she said, even as she reduced the pressure she was applying.

Even though it might be a tiny bit amusing to watch him squirm, she didn't want to actually hurt him, so she warmed his muscles up with a more gentle pressure.

"They teach you how to give massages in medical school too?" he asked, tilting his head slowly from side to side.

"Not really," she replied, moving up to warm up the area between his neck and shoulders, which also made him flinch. "It helps to know what's actually wrong though."

After another minute or two of gentle pressure, she started using her thumbs to work out the tight spots.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, flinching again when she found a particularly bad spot.

She didn't relent, and eventually felt the area loosen.

"That's…" he finally relaxed a little, letting out a long breath. "Shit," he repeated, although this time it sounded relieved instead of pained.

Clarke continued, moving back and forth between the slope of his neck and the back of his shoulders, feeling him relaxing minutely with each press of her thumbs.

It was sometime around when he started slumping forward that she realized just how close they were, with her basically straddling his back, a leg on either side of him as she was pressed in-between him and the back of the couch.

Determined not to let it rattle her, she continued until she felt the muscles relax significantly, then she moved up, placing a hand on either side of his neck and using her thumbs to massage the muscles on both sides of his spine right near the back of his neck.

She felt him relax…and relax…until suddenly he stopped, tensing up almost as badly as he had been to begin with. She was also pretty sure she felt him stop breathing.

"Bell?" she asked, frowning as she leaned partially around him, trying to see his face. "Does it hurt that bad? You may have torn something if…"

"No," he said gruffly, clearing his throat. "No. It's fine." He deliberately, and seemingly with some effort, relaxed his shoulders again.

"Oookay," she said, resuming her ministrations.

After spending a few minutes there, she worked her fingers upward, gentling the pressure as she moved her fingers into his hair, relaxing the smaller muscles, ligaments, and tendons there.

His head lolled forward, and she was again struck by just how close they were…and how much she wanted to touch him like this all the time.

It was that realization that had her reluctantly moving her fingers out of his hair, trailing them slowly down his neck before gripping his shoulders gently.

"Better?" she asked.

He nodded. "I feel like Jello," he said, his voice slightly husky.

She scooted out from behind him, retaking her place on the couch beside him. "Well, you felt like concrete when I first started, so I'd say that's an improvement?"

He turned to look at her, an expression on his face she couldn't name; it wasn't a smile, but it seemed happy…intimate, maybe. "Thanks."

They held each other's gaze for a long moment until a new episode started playing, the opening voice-over breaking through the quiet.

'This is the story of two sisters, Jessica Tate and Mary Campbell. Jessica lives in a neighborhood known as…rich.'

Clarke quickly stood up, walking over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

She returned to the couch, handing it to Bellamy.

He looked at her questioningly.

Gesturing vaguely toward his shoulders, she explained, "Loosening the knots releases lactic acid and other toxins. Water helps flush them from your body."

He uncapped the bottle, taking a long drink.

"I'll…be right back," Clarke muttered, heading toward the bathroom.

She spent a long moment washing her hands and dabbing cold water on her face, and then another long moment staring at herself in the mirror.

It wasn't just that some of her time with Bellamy was becoming more and more sexually charged…at least on her end, that was getting to her. It was the perfectly normal, seemingly platonic moments that shouldn't have been intimate, but were, that were really getting to her.

She'd been naked with people before in moments that didn't feel nearly as intimate as quite a few of the ones she'd spent fully clothed with Bellamy, and that was more than a little disconcerting.

"Best. Friend." She quietly told the mirror. "Best. Friend."

She'd gotten to speak to someone about her father and he'd just gotten to speak to his sister. It was a good night, and she wasn't going to let whatever was going on in her head ruin it.

Nodding at the mirror, as if agreeing with herself, she took a deep breath, heading back out into the living room and plopping down on the couch next to him, perhaps purposefully keeping a foot or so of space between them.

"What did I miss?" she asked.

"Not sure," he said, tossing his phone on the coffee table. "Octavia has been razzing me about the stupid pajamas. She bought them for me last Christmas." He rolled his eyes.

"They are kind of adorable," Clarke smirked.

"I'm not adorable," he grumbled, crossing his arms sullenly as he turned back toward the TV.

"I didn't say you were adorable. I said the pajamas were," Clarke teased.

He gave her an impressive side eye.

She threw her head back laughing. "Okay, okay, you and the pajamas are both adorable."

"I'm a man. I build things for a living. I work out. I can bench press 250 pounds, for fuck's sake. I'm not adorable," he pouted, which made him even more adorable.

Clarke bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stop herself from smiling. "Yes, Bellamy. I know, you're a very manly man with big strong muscles," she said, squeezing his bicep and finding that it was indeed impressive.

Maybe that's what was driving her crazy tonight…the sight of him being both adorable and sexy at the same time was too much for her already confused brain to handle at once.

He turned to look at her, eyes still narrowed, although they were bright with mirth. "Glad you noticed," he replied, and she wasn't sure if that part was said in jest or not.

He turned back toward the TV, his arm automatically raising to go around her shoulders, although it paused, then started moving more slowly, his face tensing as his arm finally came to rest across her upper back.

Clarke looked up at him, again biting the inside of her cheek. "Do your big strong manly muscles hurt?" she asked as innocently as possible.

"Maybe," he admitted grudgingly, through gritted teeth.

Snorting, she grabbed a pillow, placing it on his lap and laying her head on top of it, her body stretched out on the couch.

His hand came to rest on her shoulder.

"Better?" she asked.

"Shut up."

She smirked, turning her attention back to Benson, who wasn't even trying to hide his hatred for his boss.

Within a few minutes, Bellamy's thumb started tracing circles on her upper arm.

Before she knew it, her eyes were blinking open as she felt him rearranging their positions on the couch. "No!" she said, moving quickly and slightly clumsily in her half-asleep state. She moved away from him, sitting up.

His eyes widened, looking surprised and somewhat hurt. "You fell asleep," he explained. "I was just…"

"No, I know," she said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "You can't sleep out here though. It'll mess up your back even worse."

"Oh," he replied, looking slightly uncomfortable. "But I can't…" He gestured in the direction of his room, not quite meeting her eyes.

She knew what he was going to say. 'I can't sleep in bed if you're going to sleep on the couch.'

Clarke cleared her throat. "Well, I mean…would it be weird if I…?" She rubbed her hands on her thighs. "I mean…we're both adults…and we're friends. We end up falling asleep together out here half the time anyway…" Okay, all of the time. "And at my house, we…"

They sat there, both studiously not looking at each other.

"Not weird," he said, still not looking at her as he stood up, turning off the TV. "Come on."

She got up as well, following him into the bedroom.

In an odd display of synchronicity that felt so domestic Clarke wanted to cry, they turned down the bed together, each getting in their own side.

Bellamy turned on the TV, probably to make them both more comfortable.

"Night, Clarke," he said, laying down on his side of the bed.

"Night, Bell," she responded, laying down on the other side.

They both laid there, trying to go to sleep but having little luck.

It just seemed so odd…being in his bed together…but not touching. Falling asleep together on purpose instead of by accident…although one could argue that it hadn't been by accident ever since that first night.

"I can hear you thinking from here," he grumbled, reaching for her.

She went willingly into his embrace, her back curling into his body as his arm went around her stomach.

Being in his room…being in his bed…falling asleep together on purpose…it all stopped being weird the minute he touched her. It just felt right.

Clarke muffled a yawn into her pillow. It really was stupid how easily she fell asleep once his arm was around her, she thought as her eyes closed of their own accord.

Clarke slipped carefully out of bed, then padded quietly out of the room, trying her damnedest not to wake Bellamy. She'd woken up a few minutes before, curled up with him, and she'd spent a considerable amount of that time trying to talk herself out of doing something stupid…like kissing him awake.

She'd scooted away from him, carefully lifting his arm and getting out of there before she could do something she shouldn't.

Sighing, she walked quietly over to the coffee maker in his kitchen, getting it ready and turning it on. While she waited, she opened his computer, which was still on the counter where she'd left it last night.

She spent a few minutes signing out of her Skype account and creating a new one, then adding contacts.

Shutting the laptop and heading over to the now full coffee pot, Clarke almost dropped the mug she'd just picked up when she heard Bellamy's voice, still scratchy from sleep.

"Where'd you go?" he asked, his brain clearly not firing on all cylinders yet.

Clarke raised an eyebrow in amusement, filling the mug and sliding it across the counter to him. It looked like he needed it more than she did. "Coffee."

He nodded, picking up the mug and taking a whiff, which seemed to perk him up almost instantly.

Clarke got another mug from the shelf, pouring some for herself.

"Why are you up so early?" he asked, his voice more recognizable after taking a sip.

She shrugged. "Just woke up. I figured I'd come set up your computer for you before I head home."

"Set up my computer?"

She nodded, pushing the laptop toward him. "You now have your own Skype account, and I've already programmed Octavia into your contacts. Well…and me, too."

His face softened. "You didn't have to…"

"I know," she said, leaving her mug on the counter as she walked around it, heading toward his bedroom. "The log in is your email address and your password is 'Gamma Quadrant 175'. Two words, both capitalized, number separate."

Gamma Quadrant was, of course, another Star Trek reference, and 175 was Octavia's May 17th birthday flipped.

His entire face seemed to light up as he looked at her. "You're a giant dork," he called as she walked past him.

"You love it!" she returned, just as he had the night before.

"I really do," he responded matter-of-factly.

Clarke's heart may have stopped for a split second, but she forced herself to keep walking, grabbing her clothes and carrying them into the bathroom to get dressed.