A/N: Christmas and fluff and feelings and idk what else to tell you. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Clarke's eyes opened slowly, although not with the lethargy of usual, probably because she knew what today was.
She found Bellamy already awake, his eyes looking down at her.
"Merry Christmas," she whispered sleepily.
"Merry Christmas, Princess," he whispered back, reaching up to brush a curl off her face, his fingers gently tucking it behind her ear.
Clarke's breath caught, because the magic from last night hadn't dissipated, and he was looking at her like maybe…
Clang!
Clarke and Bellamy both jumped, and Clarke probably would have rolled off the couch if not for Bellamy's arm, which quickly reached out to grab her.
"What the hell?" he asked.
Clarke pressed her forehead into his chest, giggling a little. "My mom must be up."
They disentangled themselves, sitting up and wiping the sleep from their eyes.
"I'll be right back," Clarke told him, making her way upstairs.
She took a few minutes to pee, brush her teeth, and attempt to tame her hair, which had only gotten crazier overnight.
Satisfied that she at least no longer looked like she'd stuck her finger in a light socket, she made her way back downstairs.
She was walking down the hallway toward the kitchen when she heard what must have been the tail-end of a conversation between Bellamy and her mother.
"The two of you still aren't…" her mother asked.
"No," Bellamy replied a little gruffly.
"I think…I was wrong, Bellamy," Abby replied.
Clarke made her way around the corner. "Wrong about what?" she asked, eyebrows raised.
"Nothing," Bellamy replied quickly, at the same time Abby said, "Good Morning, sweetie!"
Clarke continued to look at both of them suspiciously.
"Merry Christmas!" Abby exclaimed, her smile a little too bright as she hugged Clarke.
"Merry Christmas, Mom."
"Come on. Grab some cookies and let's go open presents!"
Clarke complied, pouring herself a mug of coffee and grabbing a couple Christmas cookies before heading for the hallway.
Bellamy fell into step right behind her. He leaned forward, teasing quietly, "Cookies for breakfast? Now I know where you learned to eat like a toddler."
"It's Christmas, Scrooge." Clarke looked over her shoulder, laughing as she saw a telltale crumb on the side of his mouth. She reached up, using her thumb to brush it off. "How many did you have?" she asked, eyes twinkling.
He glared at her. "Three."
Clarke chuckled.
"When in Rome, Clarke."
They made it to the living room, where Abby was already pulling gifts from under the tree and setting them on the couch.
Clarke did the same, while Bellamy pulled a few packages out of his duffel bag.
Clarke and Abby exchanged first: Abby's gifts included a new stethoscope, a bottle of perfume, and a new briefcase to carry back and forth to the hospital, while Clarke's gifts included a pair of boots she'd been coveting, a box set of I Love Lucy DVDs, and a lab coat with her name stitched beautifully above the pocket.
"Thanks, Mom. I love them," Clarke said sincerely, getting up to hug Abby.
"You're welcome, sweetie. And thank you for my gifts," Abby replied, hanging the purple stethoscope around her neck. "Why don't you hand Bellamy his present," she said, gesturing to a small wrapped box sitting on the coffee table.
"You didn't have to…" Bellamy began.
"I know," Abby said gently. "I wanted to."
He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well…" He handed her one of the packages he'd pulled out of his bag.
Abby and Clarke both looked genuinely surprised as he handed Abby the gift. "I didn't expect you to get me anything."
Bellamy shrugged. "Full disclosure: I called Octavia for help."
They opened their presents simultaneously, with Abby receiving a set of wine soaps and Bellamy receiving a pocket knife that was engraved with his initials.
Abby's surprise grew as she opened her gift, looking at the beautifully swirled bars and then holding them to her nose, inhaling the scents. "These are wonderful, Bellamy. How did you…?"
He shrugged. "I remembered how much you like wine and…" he gestured toward the picture hanging over the mantle of Abby and Jake on their honeymoon in Napa Valley, almost 30 years ago. "I didn't want to buy you a bottle and it be awful. So, I called Octavia and she suggested this," he nodded at the bars of soap in her hands.
Abby smiled, clearly pleased by his thoughtfulness. "They're lovely. Thank you."
He nodded, looking down at the pocket knife in his hands, clearly impressed that Abby had managed to find something that was both classy and practical.
"I thought…you could use it. In your line of work…" Abby said a little uncertainly.
"I can," he replied, obviously a little uncomfortable receiving gifts, especially from Clarke's mother. "It's great. Thank you."
Clarke, who'd been watching the scene in front of her with great interest, finally joined back in. "Okay. My turn!" she said, handing Bellamy a wrapped square box and a Christmas card. "Open the box first."
He smiled, turning the box over in his hands. He ripped off the paper, opened the box, and pulled out a large coffee mug that was covered in tool graphics and said 'If you can break it, I can fix it.'
He was laughing by the time he turned to her, his eyes sparkling. "I love it. Thanks, Princess."
She nodded, grinning back, because yeah, it was kind of the perfect present for him. She held up the two packages he'd handed her earlier, silently asking which one she should open first.
"Soft one first," he said, nodding toward the flatter present that smooshed when she gripped it.
She eagerly tore off the paper, revealing a vibrant royal blue scarf with a chunky knit that felt ridiculously soft under her fingertips. "You remembered!"
Seeing Abby's questioning look, Clarke explained, "At Thanksgiving dinner, Jasper had a little too much Apple Pie Punch and got his umbrella caught in my scarf on the way out. Unraveled half of it before he even realized."
Honestly, it had been kind of funny, even though Clarke had been without a scarf for a month.
She looked down at the new one in her hands, which was a definite upgrade from the tan one Jasper had ruined.
"I know it's not the same color, but I thought…with your eyes…" Bellamy trailed off. "That's a thing, right?"
Clarke grinned. "Yes, that's a thing. And it's way better than my old one. Thank you," she said, squeezing his arm.
She put the scarf in her lap, turning toward Bellamy. "Open your card," she said, practically holding her breath as she watched him do as she asked, pulling out a card that had a fuzzy Santa Claus on the front. She'd picked it because she knew he'd find it ridiculous, which he clearly did.
He snorted, running his finger over the fuzzy Santa, which felt kind of like a giant cotton ball.
He opened the card and a piece of paper slid out, landing on his leg.
Clarke watched, with baited breath, as he read it, understanding dawning on his face followed by a look of incredulity.
She started talking a mile a minute, determined to convince him to accept it. "I know you can afford it on your own, but I also know that you never spend money on yourself, so I wanted to do it for you. And it wasn't that much anyway. It's from that new budget airline out of Roanoke, so you probably won't even be able to fit your legs in-between your seat and the one in front of you, and you probably have to fit your clothes inside a thimble but…"
He turned to look at her, his gaze full of something that looked a lot like love, tinged with disbelief, because of course she'd gotten him a voucher for a plane ticket to go visit Octavia.
He studied her for a minute, his face mostly unreadable as he contemplated. "I'll accept it on one condition," he finally said, voice a little gruff as he glanced down at the voucher, then back up at her.
Clarke let out the breath she'd been holding. At least he was considering accepting it; she was worried his pride would get in the way. "Okay?"
"Come with me."
Her face lit up. "Fly to California with you to visit one of my best friends that I haven't seen in six months? You drive a hard bargain, Blake," she teased.
He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to pull her against his chest.
She could feel his breath ruffle the top of her hair as he kissed her, then let out a long sigh.
"You shouldn't have done that…but thank you."
She patted his chest before moving out of his arms and reaching for her last present.
Bellamy gestured toward it with one hand. "Now that seems silly," he muttered.
Clarke turned to glare at him as she started removing the wrapping paper.
"It's just…I'd have gotten you something nicer if I'd known…" he trailed off, his face a little red as he rubbed the back of his neck in his patented 'I'm nervous or embarrassed' gesture.
Clarke ignored him, finally unwrapping a plain cardboard box and then opening the box to reveal…a jewelry box.
Except it was unlike any jewelry box Clarke had ever seen. It was tall and skinny, stained a rich mahogany, and had a beautiful green stained-glass oval window at the top. Clarke flipped the delicate gold latch, opening the box to reveal one of those padded pillows that usually came with fancy bracelets or watches.
"I, uh…I know you hardly ever take your dad's watch off, but I thought…when you do…you should have somewhere nice to put it," Bellamy said, his voice hesitant.
Clarke didn't look at him, mostly because she was still looking at the jewelry box. Something was nagging at the back of her brain, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.
She traced the delicate gold swirls on the sides and top of the box, which looked like vines, interspersed with a few leaves here and there. The detailing looked like it had been carved in, then painted with gold paint.
Clarke studied the detailed design, positive she'd never seen anything like this, even in the fancier stores she sometimes frequented with her mother. It looked painstakingly done, much too intricate to be done by a machine in a cookie cutter factory.
She moved her gaze to the beautiful green stained-glass window at the top…and suddenly remembered what her brain had been trying to tell her.
The night she'd Skyped Octavia from Bellamy's computer…he'd had up a tutorial on 'How to Stain Glass.'
She finally turned to look at him, her eyes wide. "Did you…make this?!" she asked in amazement.
He nodded tentatively, as if trying to gauge her reaction. "I know it's not perfect, but…"
His sentence was cut off because she'd turned, placed a knee on the couch beside his leg, and launched herself at him.
"You idiot," she exclaimed, her arms practically cutting off his air supply as they wrapped around his neck. "You stupid…generous…talented…thoughtful…moron," she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek in-between at least three of those descriptors before again hugging him tightly.
He chuckled, his arms wrapped tightly around her back, holding her against him.
It wasn't until she heard Bellamy jokingly say, "I guess she likes it," that she realized that her mom was still in the room and probably had a clear view of Bellamy's face, while her daughter practically sat in his lap.
She reluctantly untangled her arms from around him, slapping his arm lightly before she adjusted her shirt and sat back down in her own seat. "I love it," she corrected, again picking up the box, which she'd carefully set on the table before she'd launched herself at him. "It's beautiful, Bellamy. How did you even…?" she asked, her voice again awed as she traced the intricate design and ran her finger over the smoothness of the routed edges on the lid.
Bellamy shrugged from beside her. "I used some of David's tools…looked some stuff up online…" he said, as if it were no big deal.
"May I see?" Abby asked from her place on the chair diagonal from them.
Clarke handed her the box, watching as she turned it one way, then another, her eyes studying it with clear admiration.
Clarke turned back to Bellamy, smiling incredulously as her eyes met his. "You made me a box for my dad's watch," she practically whispered, a little dazed at the magnitude of it.
And he was looking at her the same way. "You bought me a plane ticket so I could go visit my sister."
They continued to sit there, gazing at each other a little stupidly.
Clarke wanted to crawl into his arms and never leave.
She also wanted to kiss him until he couldn't see straight.
"It really is beautiful work, Bellamy. Some of the best I've ever seen," Abby said, breaking them out of their bubble.
Bellamy again blushed, hurriedly gathering up everyone's wrapping paper and putting it in the trash, clearly not comfortable receiving this much praise or attention.
The rest of the day passed in somewhat of a blur, fueled by sugar, a few bottles of the wine Abby saved for special occasions, and some more of that magic Clarke had been talking about.
Abby worked on the herb-crusted prime rib while Clarke baked and decorated a black forest cake, garnishing it with half red cherries and half green.
Bellamy accepted the recipe Abby handed him to complete, then proceeded to throw his head back in laughter. "Can you serve Duchess Potatoes to a Princess? I feel like that's something that could get the chef beheaded. I'm kind of attached to my head, Princess," he'd teased.
Clarke disappeared right before dinner and reemerged a half hour later, wearing a knee-length emerald green dress. It had lace cap sleeves and a deep V in the back with scalloped lace trim and a full skirt, and she knew it was a little too fancy, even for the semi-formal dinner her family always had, but she wore it anyway, her blonde hair falling in soft curls over her shoulders and her feet bare, because she drew the line at wearing heels in her own house.
Bellamy did an actual double-take when he saw her, uttering a heartfelt, "You look beautiful," and then barely taking his eyes off her the rest of the night.
They ate, drank, talked, and laughed, and Clarke found herself pressed against Bellamy's side without even knowing how she got there more times than she could count, as if they just gravitated toward each other by some force of nature.
Everything went perfectly until late afternoon, after they'd already had dinner, cleaned up the kitchen, and gone back into the living room. Bellamy started getting antsy, his gaze going to the clock every ten minutes or so, as if he knew he needed to leave but didn't really want to.
Clarke tamped down her disappointment; she'd monopolized him for most of the day, it wasn't fair to want him to stay longer when she knew he had somewhere he needed to be.
She tilted her head up from where it was resting on his chest so she could see him. "You need to go, don't you?" she asked quietly, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice.
He nodded reluctantly. "I wish…" he trailed off, sighing, the hand he had on her back rubbing soothingly even as he looked away from her.
"I know," she whispered, closing her eyes and pressing her face into his chest for a moment, as if it would somehow help her better remember today.
She sat up reluctantly, then turned to her mother. "Bellamy needs to get going, Mom."
"Oh, of course," she said, standing up as he did. "I'm so glad you could spend Christmas with us, Bellamy."
"Thanks for having me, Mrs…Abby," he corrected himself before she could, moving out from between the couch and the coffee table.
Abby gave him a hug, which clearly took him by surprise, if his raised eyebrows and his awkward pats on her back were any indication.
"Merry Christmas, Bellamy," Abby said as she stepped back.
He nodded. "Merry Christmas."
Clarke watched their exchange with some amusement, finally grabbing Bellamy's hand and walking with him to the door.
She waited while he put on his boots and jacket and picked up his bag, then reclaimed his hand. And maybe it was weird, but if she wanted to hold his hand on Christmas and he seemingly had no objections, she wasn't going to talk herself out of it.
She opened the door, leading him out onto the porch, where they both just stood for a moment, neither one apparently ready to say goodbye.
"Do you want me to go with you?" she asked, even though she knew he'd probably say no.
He shook his head, smiling down at her sadly. "I love you for asking, but no."
Clarke had to force herself to hear his entire sentence, not just the first three words.
He finally moved, setting his bag down and turning to face her more fully. "You know…I thought this Christmas was going to suck. It's the first time I've been away from Octavia…"
"I know," she said sadly, looking up at him.
"And then you wanted me to come here…with your mom…" he said, chuckling a little.
"I know," she repeated.
"It ended up being one of the best Christmases I've ever had," he said, wrapping his arms around her upper back, his hand tangling in her hair as he pulled her against him.
She breathed a sigh of relief, her arms finding their way under his jacket to hug his waist tightly.
"What did you call it?" he asked. "Magical?"
She smiled, nodding against his chest.
"It makes me think…" he began, and she could feel his heart increase in tempo underneath her ear. "…change might not be so bad, after all."
She tilted her head back, meeting his gaze and sharing a nervously sweet smile with him, because maybe, just maybe, they were finally on the same page at the same time.
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her cheek for a few beats longer than necessary, then hugging her again. "Merry Christmas, Clarke."
She hugged him back just as tightly. "Merry Christmas, Bell."
He released her reluctantly, bending down to pick up his bag before jogging down the steps.
"Thanks again for my presents," she called after him.
He looked back, answering, "Thanks for mine."
Clarke watched him walk down the sidewalk, her arms hugged around her middle to keep herself warm.
He paused halfway across the yard, turning around to look at her while slowly walking backwards. "I wasn't kidding about the dress," he told her, sounding almost shy. "I don't think I've ever seen you look more beautiful."
Not sure what to say, Clarke just smiled bashfully back at him, her cheeks tinged an attractive shade of pink.
She noticed she wasn't the only one blushing, although Bellamy's wasn't as noticeable on his darker skin. He did that thing he often did, looking down and shaking his head, as if he was hoping his curls would somehow cover his face and hide his embarrassment. All it really did was make him even more attractive.
He eventually turned back around, getting in his truck and riding off with a final wave.
Clarke watched his truck until it disappeared, her fingers pressed to her cheek, which still tingled where he'd kissed it.
She made her way back inside, rejoining her mother in the living room.
"He's going to see his mom, isn't he?" Abby asked.
Clarke nodded, gathering up most of her presents. "I'm going to go change."
She headed upstairs, swapping her dress for leggings and a sweater before sitting down on her bed, the jewelry box in her hands.
She again studied it, still blown away not only by the talent and work that went into it, but also the thought behind it. She'd had no idea he could make something like this, but since he could, he could've made her anything from a birdhouse to a breadbox and she was sure it would've turned out beautifully. The fact that he made her something to protect what was probably her most cherished possession made his gesture all the more special.
She set the box carefully on her dresser, then headed back down to the living room.
"He goes to visit her every month and on holidays," she began a little tentatively, because she wanted to share things with her mom, but it wasn't something she'd been in the habit of doing lately, for obvious reasons. "He comes back…broken."
Abby looked saddened by the news. "Talk to me," she suggested…and Clarke did.
She told her what she knew about his mother's condition, explained how difficult his visits usually were, and talked a little about how distraught Bellamy was afterward.
Abby listened attentively, asked all the right questions, and seemed genuinely sympathetic.
"It has to be hard on you…seeing him that upset," Abby mentioned cautiously.
Clarke shrugged. "It is…but he's always there for me. The least I can do is return the favor when he needs me."
They eventually moved on to other things, watching the Christmas special they'd DVR'd earlier and sipping egg nog.
Clarke couldn't help it; she kept glancing at her phone every few minutes, both checking the time and to see if she had any messages from Bellamy.
She knew it took him an hour to get there and an hour back, but what time he got home really depended on how the visit went. She couldn't stop imagining him returning like he had last time, his eyes dull and tortured, his heart on his sleeve and cracked for all the world to see. She detested the thought of him like that at all, but especially today.
Just after the two hour mark, Abby stood up and stretched. "I think I'm going to head upstairs."
Clarke looked at her a little oddly. It wasn't even 8 o'clock.
"I've got an early shift tomorrow. Spending a relaxing hour reading and soaking in the tub before bed sounds wonderful right about now," she said, holding up the book Clarke had given her that morning. "And I have new soap to try out, too!" she remembered, grabbing one of the bars that was swirled a deep burgundy.
"Mom…" Clarke began, still not sure why her mom was seemingly eager to end their Christmas earlier than normal.
Abby just smiled at her daughter. "Clarke…go to him."
Clarke was taken aback. "But…I don't have to…"
Abby set her gifts down, walking over to sit by Clarke on the couch, her hand coming up to rest on her daughter's shoulder. "No, you didn't have to spend the day with me at all. I know you probably would have been just as happy…if not happier…spending the day at Bellamy's," Abby smiled sadly while saying this, although she wasn't trying to make Clarke feel guilty. "So, thank you for including me. But now he needs you, and I can tell you're getting antsier by the minute."
Clarke didn't say anything, because all of that was true.
"I had a good Christmas, Clarke. He should too. And something tells me that if he's with you, he will," Abby said, her fingers running over Clarke's curls, her words trying to absolve Clarke of any guilt she might feel. "Go ahead."
Abby got up, picking up her book and the soap again.
"Mom?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm glad I got to spend today with both of you," Clarke said sincerely.
Abby turned toward her, one of the most genuine smiles she'd seen on her face in months. "Me too, Clarke."
Abby started walking out of the room, almost making it to the doorway before she paused, turning back around. "You know he loves you, right?" she asked matter-of-factly.
Clarke was a little taken aback, but decided that her mother must mean 'love' in a friendly way, so she nodded. "I…love him, too," she admitted, the words sounding foreign to her ears; she didn't think she'd ever said them out loud before.
Abby nodded, biting her lip as she decided if she should continue. Finally, she went for it. "But have you realized you're in love with him yet?"
Clarke let out a large breath, suddenly feeling a little less burdened now that someone else knew. Honestly, it shouldn't surprise her that her mom could figure her out this easily. She nodded.
"The way he treats you…" Abby sighed, smiling sadly as she glanced at the picture on the mantle. "I didn't think men like that existed anymore. I thought your father was one of the last. But Bellamy…" she glanced at her daughter. "…he's a good man."
Clarke swallowed. "The best," she said with conviction.
Abby nodded. "Merry Christmas, Clarke."
"Merry Christmas, Mom."
Clarke waited until Abby had disappeared upstairs before she turned off the lights and the TV, then headed into the kitchen to package up some leftovers.
Within ten minutes, she was clad in her new boots and her new scarf, and she was on her way to Bellamy's, Tupperware in tow.
Clarke had been sitting at Bellamy's counter for the last half hour.
She'd used her key to get in, put the leftovers in his fridge, and then spent the rest of her time scrolling through her phone, glad that social media didn't require much brain power, since most of hers seemed to be focused on the door in front of her and the man that would come through it soon.
She'd never let herself into his apartment without asking first, even though he'd insisted that she could. She'd spent the last few minutes wondering how weird this was, on a scale of 1 to 10, and whether he'd find her actions caring and thoughtful or pushy and overbearing.
She was 99% sure he'd go with 'caring and thoughtful,' but this was Bellamy, and if she didn't spend at least part of her day worrying that she'd freak him out with how much she cared about him, it wouldn't be a normal day in Clarke-land.
Finally, after what felt like hours, but was really only a few more minutes, she heard a key jingling in the lock.
A few short seconds later, a curly head of hair entered her line of vision as he was busy looking down, taking the key out of the lock.
She saw him look up, surprised to find lights on in his apartment. It only took another second or two for his gaze to land on her.
His brow furrowed in confusion, but did nothing to detract from the weariness that seemed to have taken over his face, no doubt a result of how he'd spent the last few hours.
Clarke slid off the stool, moving to stand at the end of his kitchen counter as he shut the door.
He continued looking at her, an unspoken question written plainly on his face, asking why she was there.
She shrugged, a little unsure of what to do with herself. "I thought you might…need me."
She'd barely finished her sentence before he was striding toward her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against him so tightly, her feet lifted off the floor.
"Always," he replied gruffly.