Clarke stood in front of her bathroom mirror, smoothing down the unrulier parts of her hair as she tried to calm the nervous energy that had taken root in her stomach.
Bellamy should be arriving any minute, and things had been slightly…awkward…between them for the last few weeks, ever since the Finn debacle and the resulting heart-to-heart outside the bar.
They'd continued on the same as they always had: she still spent a night or two at his place every week, they still texted multiple times a day, and they still acted like a married couple a good portion of the time…but things were somehow…different.
He felt a little standoffish on occasion, and she was pretty sure he wasn't even doing it on purpose, but she'd noticed nonetheless. He didn't hug her or touch her casually as much as he used to either, although he was quick to return her hugs and would immediately wrap an arm around her if she leaned into his side.
On the flip side of standoffish Bellamy was the Bellamy that she'd occasionally catch staring at her as if she were fragile…as if he was afraid she'd break with one false move.
Clarke didn't like the change in their relationship, but she understood that Bellamy was still processing what he'd learned and figuring out how to deal with it. She also recognized that he was probably working on trusting her again.
Needless to say, the kiss they'd shared had been ignored; neither had mentioned it since it had occurred.
Clarke wasn't sure if that was because he was still processing and working on trust, if he'd decided he didn't want to be with her in that way, or if it hadn't been a kiss at all.
She'd thought about it almost obsessively since it had occurred, replaying it over and over again in her mind, both because she was trying to figure out what it had meant and because it was one of the best (and worst) moments of her life.
He'd been upset; they both had. Their faces had been mere inches apart and they'd been trying to reassure each other…comfort each other.
Clarke again played the moment in her mind, feeling the press of his lips against hers. She even remembered thinking, at the time, that it wasn't romantic or sensual or any of the other ways kisses often went. Their lips hadn't moved, tongues hadn't gotten involved, hands hadn't strayed or caressed. In all reality, it had been a peck that had lasted a beat or two longer than was necessary.
She wondered, for probably the thousandth time, if it had just been another one of those facets of their friendship that they took farther than most people did.
The doorbell rang, breaking Clarke out of her mirror introspection.
"I'll get it!" she called out, hurrying out of her room and heading toward the front door.
On the way, she chuckled as she thought about how she'd conned Bellamy into this.
"So, I was thinking," Clarke said, sitting beside Bellamy on his couch, trying to nonchalantly eat chips like she wasn't nervous about what she was getting ready to propose.
"That's never a good thing," he joked without missing a beat, head still turned to the TV, where Jack Tripper was currently doing his best Mrs. Doubtfire impersonation, having dressed up as a woman to win a "Grandma's Best Recipe" cooking contest.
"Shut up," she replied, rolling her eyes. "You know…Christmas is a week away."
"Really? I was wondering what the trees and lights everywhere were for," he said, deadpan as he glanced at his own small Christmas tree in the corner.
She threw a pillow at him, which he caught while he was chuckling.
"Okay, okay. I'll stop. What?" he asked, looking at her.
Dammit. This might have been easier if he'd kept his gaze trained on the television.
"Octavia and Lincoln are staying in Cali, right?"
He nodded, his face a little unhappy at the thought of not seeing his sister for the second holiday in a row.
"And you're coming to Christmas dinner at my house, right?"
He nodded, raising an eyebrow as if to ask her what she was getting at.
"Why don't you come over on Christmas Eve?" Clarke asked, her words rushed in her nervousness.
Bellamy frowned a little in confusion, "For…dinner…or? I thought you guys did everything on Christmas Day?"
"No. We do. Well…we eat pizza in our pajamas and watch Christmas movies on Christmas Eve. It's a tradition our family started with the Jahas when Wells and I were toddlers."
Bellamy smiled a little at that. "So, you want me to come watch It's a Wonderful Life and eat Pizza Hut with you and your mom?"
Clarke scoffed. "Please. I want you to come watch Christmas Vacation and eat Papa John's with me and my mom."
He chuckled.
Clarke hurriedly added, "…and stay over."
His expression immediately shifted to one of unease.
Before he could utter a word, Clarke started rebutting all of the arguments he hadn't even gotten a chance to make yet. "You and my mom are fine now, right?" she asked.
Bellamy had come back to fix the pipes in Clarke's bathroom a week after the Old Faithful disaster, and Abby had gone out of her way to be cordial, even inviting him to stay for dinner and praising him for a job well done.
"Yeah…" Bellamy answered hesitantly.
"And you don't have any other plans," Clarke stated.
"No, but I'm coming to dinner…"
"Bellamy, no one should be alone on Christmas morning."
"Clarke, I don't care. It doesn't bother me."
She gave him a look of disdain that even Raven would have been proud of. "I care!"
They had something of a stare-down for a few seconds, until Clarke decided to up the ante.
"Either you come stay with me, or I'll have to stay over here."
He frowned a little, "But then your mom will be alone on…"
"Exactly."
He scowled at her, although she was pretty sure it was because he was miffed that she was going to get her way, not because he was actually angry at her.
"If you make me choose, I'll choose you and then I'll feel guilty." Clarke batted her eyes a little, playful now that she knew he was going to give in. "On Christmas, Bellamy."
He sighed and rolled his eyes, although she caught the beginning of an indulgent smirk on his face. "Princess always has to get her way, doesn't she?"
"Yes," she replied primly. "Which is why you're also bringing those pajamas. You know…" she teased. "The adorable ones."
"Clarke," he replied, shooting her an impressive side-eye.
Seriously. They were all spending way too much time with Raven.
"If you don't, I'll make you wear some of mine. I think I have some tiny candy cane sleep shorts you can borrow. Don't worry…there's a matching cami," Clarke teased, her eyes twinkling.
"I'm sure your mom would appreciate that," he said sarcastically.
Clarke shrugged, turning back to the TV, where Jack (still Mrs. Doubtfired) was being hit on by one of the cooking contest's judges, who was old, grey, and…male. "She'd know it was for the greater good. She understands the importance of Christmas Eve pajamas, Bellamy."
He sighed exaggeratedly, turning back to the TV in time to see Jack accidently pull his grey wig off with the crown he'd just won and the ensuing chaos.
Clarke smiled, not because Three's Company was hilarious (although it was), but because she'd get to wake up on Christmas morning with Bellamy.
Present-day, Christmas Eve Clarke jogged down the stairs, pulling open the door and launching herself at the man on the other side.
"Merry Christmas Eve!" she exclaimed, arms still around his neck.
He chuckled. "Merry Christmas Eve, Princess."
She released him somewhat reluctantly, stepping aside to let him in.
He toed his boots off, placing them on the mat with the other shoes, then set down the small gym bag he was carrying so he could remove his coat.
Clarke took it from him, hanging it on the hook beside hers.
"Merry Christmas, Bellamy!" Abby's voice chimed in as she walked down the hall from the kitchen toward the living room.
"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Griffin," Bellamy replied politely.
"I told you before, it's Abby," she chastised lightly.
Bellamy shuffled a little nervously. "Are you sure this is okay? I can just stay for pizza and then…" he gestured to the door.
Abby switched the bottle of water she was carrying to her right hand so she could place her left on his arm. "Don't be silly. Christmas Eve sleepovers used to be a Griffin family tradition. It'll be nice to have some…" she glanced at Clarke, smiling a little sadly. "…happiness in this house again."
She patted his arm before heading toward the living room. "Pizza will be here in 30!"
Bellamy waited until she was out of sight before turning to Clarke, his eyebrows raised. "That…almost seemed like a warm welcome," he said, his voice low in case Abby was still close.
Clarke smiled, shrugging. "She seemed happy about it when I told her."
Bellamy's gaze traveled down her body, then back up. "You weren't kidding about the pajamas."
Clarke had to force herself to sound perfectly normal, and not like he'd just made her heart skip a beat with his once over. "I was not," she said.
She was currently wearing grey and white long-john style pajama bottoms that had snowflakes on them and a red shirt with a wide neck that hung off one shoulder and said 'Dear Santa, I can explain.'
It also couldn't have escaped his attention that her mom was wearing a light blue pajama set with penguins ice skating all over it.
"Did you bring yours?" she asked impishly, remembering what she'd threatened him with.
"No."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Fine, yes," he said stubbornly.
"Go change!" she insisted, pointing down the hallway to the half-bath.
He picked up his gym bag and moved toward her, stopping right beside her, his breath hot on her ear as he leaned in close. "You could've at least worn the candy canes," he said, so softly she almost didn't hear him, before he continued down the hallway and disappeared inside the bathroom.
Clarke stood there, mouth slightly agape for a good 30 seconds after, wondering what the hell had just happened (aside from the lightning bolt of heat that had shot to her core. That, of course, she understood.)
Occasionally, he said or did something like that, something that made her libido stand up and take notice…something that made her think he wanted her the same way she wanted him and that the kiss hadn't been a fluke…but before she could question him about it or even really process it, he'd have moved on, acting as if he didn't just make her heart stutter in her chest and her toes curl with possibility.
When he returned, clothes changed and hair slightly mussed, he found her standing in the same place he'd left her.
"Come on," he said nonchalantly, putting a hand on her back to lead her into the living room. "You promised me Christmas Vacation."
A few hours later, they'd eaten pizza and wings, watched Christmas Vacation, and sat around in their pajamas, glancing occasionally at the twinkling lights of the large Christmas tree in the corner beside the window.
Clarke had escaped to the kitchen a few minutes ago, making three steaming mugs of hot chocolate, which she generously added Kahlua to.
By the time she came back, Bellamy had chosen a new movie and was holding the remote, waiting for her return before he pressed play.
"Let me guess? It's a Wonderful Life?" she teased.
"Please, Clarke. A Christmas Story," he scoffed, accepting the mug she handed him.
Clarke reclaimed her seat on the couch next to him, sipping her hot chocolate.
She and Bellamy had ended up beside each other on the couch, while Abby had claimed the chair and a half and the overstuffed ottoman.
They all sipped their spiked hot chocolate, watching as Ralphie pined for his Red Ryder BB gun.
Clarke finished her drink, leaning forward to set the empty mug on the coffee table, then sitting back to try to get comfortable.
It hadn't really been an issue before, because they'd been eating, or drinking, or getting up to do stuff, but now that they were settling in, she was starting to feel a tad uncomfortable.
It had become her natural instinct to curl up with Bellamy whenever possible…in fact, she wasn't sure she knew how to sit beside him without leaning into him anymore, but she wasn't sure how Bellamy or her mother would feel about their casual closeness.
So, she leaned back against the couch, her feet resting on the edge of the coffee table.
That lasted for around five minutes, until her legs started to go numb.
She huffed, letting them fall to the floor as she scooted forward.
She heard Bellamy chuckle softly beside her right before she felt a tug on the back of her shirt.
He pulled her backwards, tugging until she landed against his side.
She wiggled, getting more comfortable, her legs curled beside her as her head rested on his chest.
They both sighed contentedly as his arm went around her shoulders and they turned their attention back to the movie.
Neither of them noticed Abby, who was watching them intently, her face that mixture of sadness and gratefulness that only a mother can pull off when she realizes she's no longer the most important person in her child's life.
"Aren't you tired?" Bellamy asked, covering a yawn.
Clarke nodded absently.
It was almost 1 in the morning. Abby had gone to bed a couple hours ago, leaving Clarke and Bellamy to pick out the next movie on their own.
Clarke had put in It's a Wonderful Life, partly to tease Bellamy, and partly because it was a great movie, okay?
They'd also nabbed some Christmas cookies from the kitchen, washing them down with the good bourbon. It was Christmas Eve, after all.
"You ready to go up?" Bellamy asked, the arm he had around her shoulders squeezing a little.
Clarke shook her head.
Bellamy turned his head, his nose nudging the hair near her temple. "You can sneak into my room if you want."
Clarke smiled a little. They usually didn't acknowledge the fact that they slept together on purpose. For once, though, the "propriety" of their sleeping arrangement wasn't what had her reluctant to leave the couch. "Let's stay down here."
"Why?" he asked curiously.
"I don't know. You'd think Christmas would lose some of its appeal when you get older, but…" She looked at the giant Christmas tree on the other side of the room, with its twinkling lights and festive tinsel, the fire dancing in the fireplace, still crackling warmly, and even the house across the street, just visible through the window, with its outdoor lights and reindeer yard decorations. "Tonight just seems…magical." She turned to the man beside her, almost expecting him to tease her. In all reality, being here with him was a large part of the reason the night felt so magical.
Instead of the smirk or the look of confusion she expected to find on his face, she found one of understanding. "Yeah, it does, doesn't it?" he said softly, his gaze focused on her.
They moved, as if by mutual agreement, lying down on the couch and pulling the throw over themselves.
The Griffin couch wasn't as wide as Bellamy's, meaning that they had to scoot even closer together than normal; which, really, Clarke wasn't complaining.
Bellamy tightened his arm around Clarke's stomach, pulling her back firmly against his chest.
"Is your mom going to freak out when she finds us like this in the morning?" Bellamy asked, although he didn't seem all that worried.
Clarke shrugged. "Don't know, don't care."
He chuckled, his breath moving the curls at the crown of her head. "Night, Clarke," he said gently, his lips pressing a kiss into her hair.
"Night, Bell," she answered.
And she fell asleep to the sound of Jimmy Stewart's voice, the sight of twinkling lights, both inside and outside, and the feeling of Bellamy's lips, still resting against the back of her head.