Clarke pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket as she walked through the parking garage, pressing 'Call' on her most used contact.
"Hey," Bellamy answered, slightly breathless. "I just got back from the gym, so I need like ten minutes to shower. Do you want Panda Hut or do you want to go pick up burgers from the Grill once you get here? Or I might have…" she could hear him opening his refrigerator door. "I've got the stuff for spaghetti. Preference?"
Clarke bit her lip as she walked toward her car, trying to decide. She loved his spaghetti…she loved anything he made, really, and watching him cook for her? Well, that wasn't really something she ever turned down. Given what she was calling to ask him about though, she decided to give him a reprieve from the kitchen. "Burgers," she responded.
"Oh," Bellamy replied, a little surprised. Apparently he'd also noticed that she never turned down his offer to cook.
"Actually…I was calling to ask you something," Clarke began, a little hesitantly. She was pretty sure he'd love the idea as much as she did, but she could be wrong.
"Shoot."
"You're still free for Thanksgiving, right?"
"I was under the impression I had plans, actually," he said, and she could hear the slight frown in his voice from the other side of the phone.
"That's not what I meant. You didn't decide to fly out to Cali or suddenly get a hot date or anything, did you?"
They'd mentioned Thanksgiving a few times after she'd learned he wasn't going to see Octavia and Octavia apparently had no plans to fly home either. He was, of course, invited to the Griffin Thanksgiving, although no one had any idea when it would be held, since neither Clarke nor her mom had gotten their schedules yet.
"Yeah, Clarke. I picked up a random girl at the gas station yesterday and immediately made plans for Thanksgiving. Doesn't everyone?"
Clarke snorted, pressing the fob to unlock her car. "You're such a smart ass."
"I'm pretty sure that's what you like about me," he retorted.
"Fair point," she conceded.
"Yes, I'm still free for Thanksgiving. Did you guys pick a time? I'm supposed to show up a good 12 hours before, right?" he asked, only half joking. Making pumpkin pie from scratch took a lot of time, as he'd learned at his first Griffin Thanksgiving.
"Actually, no. We're not doing Thanksgiving this year."
"Oh," he replied, his voice hesitant. Aside from last year, when Clarke hadn't been speaking to anyone, he'd been at her house for every Thanksgiving since they'd met. "Okay. I can…that's fine. I can probably tag along to Miller's or something."
She pulled the phone away from her ear, staring at it oddly for a moment before she registered what she'd just heard in his voice. He thought he was being uninvited.
She rolled her eyes. Please. As if she'd ever not take every opportunity to be around him.
"My mom got called to some consult in Chicago. A senator's son, I think? They're trying to devise a treatment plan and they called in the top specialists from around the country. She probably won't be back before the weekend. She asked me if I wanted her to decline and stay here for Thanksgiving…or if I wanted to go with her."
"…and what did you tell her?"
"I told her to go do her job, and that I'm pretty sure I'd rather have an elective colonoscopy than spend Thanksgiving in a hotel room eating from a buffet."
Bellamy snorted. "I'm sure that went over well."
"Eh," Clarke shrugged, getting in her car. "So…I was wondering. Do you want to have Friendsgiving?"
"Friendsgiving?"
"I think it's usually something people do in college or when they're away from home on Thanksgiving. I don't know, it's a thing now. But, basically, a bunch of friends get together, do the whole turkey and stuffing bit, and drink way more than they would if Grandma was sitting at the table. I know almost everyone else has other dinners to go to, but maybe we could make ours late so they could do both?" She paused, slightly nervous as she waited for an answer. She wasn't sure why this was important to her…but it was. "We don't have to if you don't…"
"I'm in."
She grinned. "Yeah?"
"So we're…hosting Thanksgiving together?" he asked, his voice a little hesitant...she almost wanted to categorize it as cautiously optimistic.
"Yes?"
"Can't wait, Princess," he replied, and based on his tone, she could picture his expression; he was smiling that half-smile that she loved so much.
Clarke glanced at her watch. "I know we were supposed to relax tonight, but do you want to go grocery shopping before everything gets bought out?"
It was Tuesday night, which meant there was only one more day until Thanksgiving, plus they both had to work tomorrow.
"Yeah. We need to message all the delinquents too and see who's in."
"You start. I'm getting ready to leave work now. I'll meet you at your place in a few."
"Hey!" He paused before continuing, "You said your mom is going to be gone the rest of the week, right?"
"Yeah, probably. Why?"
"Do you…are you looking forward to having the house to yourself for the next few days?" he asked, and there was a slight stutter in his voice.
"Not really. It's kinda creepy out there when I'm by myself for too long," Clarke replied, starting her car.
"…why don't you stay with me?" he asked in a rush, almost stringing the words together.
Clarke paused, her hand on the gear shift. "…stay with you?"
"Yeah…I mean…if you want. You'd be close to work…we have a lot to do the next couple days to make dinner anyway…and you wouldn't have to stay out there by yourself…" He cleared his throat, pausing for a second. "But I mean…you don't have to. It was just a thought…"
"No!" Clarke hurriedly interjected. "I…yeah, that would be great."
"Oh. Okay."
The line was silent for a minute, both of them a little too awkward to know where to go next.
"So…uh…why don't you go home and grab some clothes and whatever…and I'll shower and then text everybody. Meet at Kroger in an hour?"
"Okay."
"Okay."
They both disconnected.
Clarke sat in her running car, one hand still frozen on the gear shift, staring at the phone in her other hand, which showed the length of their call and Bellamy's contact picture.
It was a picture she'd snapped a few years ago when they'd all been drunk at one bar or another, and she'd realized that Bellamy was the only contact of importance in her phone that didn't have a picture attached.
Clarke had answered a text from Raven, who was stuck in her dorm room working on a robotics assignment while everyone else was out getting trashed. When she'd pressed the back button, returning to the text message list screen, her eyes scanned down the side, where the little circles showed a tiny picture of her contacts.
There was Jasper, who'd so helpfully crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue in his picture, Monty, who was cheesing big time, and Raven, who was delivering an impressive side eye. Basically, everyone had portrayed themselves perfectly in a snapshot.
And then there was the grey head outline next to Bellamy's texts.
Clarke frowned, half stomping over to where Bellamy was sitting at a table, talking to Miller.
"Even he's in my phone!" Clarke half screamed at them, gesturing wildly to Miller.
Miller sat there fairly stoically, although he was pretty used to seeing her tipsy and screaming, so that made sense. Bellamy just raised an eyebrow. "Say what now, Princess?"
"He has a picture in my phone!" she repeated, scrolling to his name and clicking on the picture. "Yeah, he looks like he's trying to get a job working security for Snoop Dog, but it's still a picture!"
Bellamy choked a little on his beer. "Let me see," he said eagerly, reaching for her phone.
She handed it over, and Bellamy immediately started laughing at Miller's 'I'm a badass pose,' which involved crossed arms, a raised chin, and a death glare. "Dude. The Secret Service called. They wanted me to tell you you're fired."
"Fuck. You." Miller replied, picking up his beer and heading to where Jasper, Monty, and Octavia were playing pool on the other side of the bar.
Bellamy handed Clarke's phone back, still grinning at his best friend's unfortunate pose.
Clarke pressed a few buttons, bringing up Bellamy's chat, then turning the phone toward him again. "And then there's you. I'm talking to a creepy shadow head, Bellamy!"
"I think you'll survive, Princess," he said, taking another swig from his beer bottle.
"No. No, I won't. Send me a picture!" Clarke replied stubbornly. She wasn't sure why this was suddenly so important to her, but it was.
He scowled. "It's not like I just take random pictures of myself. I'm a few years too old for the selfie generation, thank God."
"I refuse to text a shadow head! Let me take your damn picture."
"You're not going to let this go, are you?" he sighed.
"Nope."
"Fine," he said, rolling his eyes. "Go ahead."
Clarke held up her phone, prepared to use the camera, but the face she saw through it had her glaring right back. "Bellamy Blake, if I wanted a picture of someone giving me the death glare, I would've asked Murphy. Smile, you jackass."
"No."
Clarke set her phone on the table unceremoniously, immediately walking to Bellamy's side…and tickling him.
He looked completely shocked…whether it was from her close proximity or the tickling, she really didn't know. "What are you DOING?" he asked, trying not to laugh as he hopped off the stool, backing away from her.
"Please. I've lived with your sister for three years. I know all your weaknesses, Blake," Clarke replied, her fingers again finding his ribs.
They jostled against each other for a few seconds, until she eventually had him backed against the wall.
"Fine! You can take your damn picture!" Bellamy gave in, trying to sound pissed but not really succeeding when he had a grin on his face and his voice was slightly breathless.
"And you'll smile like a good little boy?" Clarke asked.
It was only then that she realized that she'd literally backed him against the wall. Her hands, which had paused in their assault, had come to rest on his waist, and his, which had been on her upper arms, trying to push her away, were now just resting there. They were only a few inches apart, and suddenly their breathlessness seemed…not so innocent.
Bellamy's gaze seemed to burn a hole into her, it was so intense. "I never claimed to be good, Clarke," he finally answered, and it somehow seemed charged. She wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a sexual innuendo or if there was some deeper meaning behind it…or both.
Clarke blinked a few times, still staring up at him. "For me?" she asked quietly.
He just continued looking down at her, his chest rising and falling a little too rapidly, until she moved her hands, gently poking her index fingers into his sides in a not-so-veiled threat.
He snorted, finally releasing her. "Princess always has to get her way, doesn't she?" he muttered, but it didn't sound like a jibe, it almost sounded fond.
Clarke smiled, grabbing her phone and moving a few steps from him. "Say cheese!"
He put his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, looking at the floor somewhere behind her and shuffling around a little.
She knew he didn't like having his picture taken solo; he always tried to draw other people in with him, probably to take the focus off himself. "Bell, just look at me," she said gently.
And he did.
She'd snapped the picture quickly, and just a few seconds later, the rest of the group had come charging in, asking whose turn it was to buy a new round.
Bellamy had quickly volunteered, even though everyone knew it was Jasper's turn, and Octavia had immediately pulled Clarke into a side conversation about whether or not Atom the bartender was cute.
Clarke hadn't really gotten a chance to study the picture until a few hours later, after Bellamy had dropped her and Octavia off at their apartment.
She'd been half asleep before she remembered it, and had rolled over to grab her phone off the nightstand, pulling up her gallery.
There was Bellamy, all broad shoulders, curly hair, and freckles. His head was tilted down, from when he'd still been resistant, and his eyes were looking up at her from underneath his unruly curls…and the look on his face…
Clarke frowned, trying to remember what she'd said just before she took it.
'Bell, just look at me.'
When he had, his smile was boyish…the one he reserved for when he was being shy or sincere about something. And the look in his eyes…Clarke would have described it as affection…or even adoration…if she didn't know any better.
She'd shaken herself out of it, saved the picture to his contact information, and then passed out.
Present day Clarke was still sitting in her running car, staring at that picture. She'd glanced at it often over the years, especially during the time she'd abandoned everything good in her life. It had hurt, seeing what she was depriving herself of…who she was depriving herself of, but it had also given her some measure of peace, because she knew Bellamy was out there somewhere.
It also reminded her of one of her favorite memories of all time. It was now three years later, and she could still picture those few minutes like they'd happened yesterday.
He'd been embarrassed…but he looked like a goddamn model and he didn't even know it.
Clarke studied his expression for what must have been the millionth time. He looked shy…he looked affectionate…he looked almost…enamored.
Had he always looked at her like that?
She blinked, turning off her phone and setting it in the cup holder before finally shifting her car into reverse and backing out of the parking spot.
Not only was she hosting Friendsgiving with her best friend and the man she was pretty sure she was in love with, but she was also staying with him for the next few days.
Yeah. She wasn't making questionable decisions at all.