It may sound redundant, but I swear I'm not just saying it: Thanks for all the following, favorites, and reviews! You guys make my day every time! And without further ado, Chapter Seven:

Octavia was woken up by her phone buzzing, it was the fourth time this morning that someone had tried to call. Whoever was calling clearly wasn't getting the message that 7:45 am, 7:53 am, and 8:00 am on a Saturday was too early for her to answer the phone. When it started ringing again at 8:07 am, she finally rolled over and answered.

"Hello," she said groggily.

"Hi, Octavia, it's Abby Griffin. Clarke's mom."

"Hi, Mrs. Griffin," Octavia said suspiciously.

"I was just calling because Clarke won't take any of my calls and she doesn't answer any of my texts or emails." Despite being worried about her child, her tone also had a hint of annoyance.

Octavia was torn between being polite to the woman who had treated her so well in the past and biting her head off for what she was doing to Clarke now. Clarke was just following her passions and Octavia could have sworn the Abby she had met back during freshman year of college wouldn't have put up such as fuss about it. But after Clarke's father was killed in a horrendous car accident Octavia and Clarke's second year of undergrad, Abby Griffin had changed; she had become much more controlling of Clarke, wanting to know where she was and what she was doing at all times. It was understandable, after having lost someone so close to her, but then it evolved into corralling Clarke down the life path of a doctor, so that she and Clarke could work together and always be in the same place, and not accepting any straying from that course.

Before Octavia could make up her mind on how to respond, Abby was talking again, "Do you know where she is and what she's doing? I just want to know that she's okay." This time any hint of annoyance had completely vanished from Abby's tone of voice, and it was only concern for her daughter that Octavia heard.

Octavia sighed and reassured Abby, "She's doing fine, Mrs. Griffin. She moved in with me three weeks ago, she's got a job, and is happy."

"Oh, okay," Abby said, sounding both relieved and deflated. "Do you think you could get her to give me a call sometime?"

"I could try. But you know as well as I do that she has that Griffin stubborn streak."

Abby gave a weak laugh, "That she does. But could you give it a try anyway…please?"

Octavia assented.

"Thank you, Octavia. It would mean the world to me."

They said their goodbyes and Octavia tumbled out of bed. She went to Clarke's room to tell her that her mother called, but Clarke's bed was already made. Octavia wandered into the living room to find her friend sitting on the couch, coffee mug in reach, and laptop opened on her lap. Octavia swerved to the kitchen and poured herself coffee, adding in some sugar, and joined her friend in the living room.

"No Bellamy today," Clarke said as Octavia curled into the armchair.

Octavia smiled knowingly. "I thought you'd be happy."

"I am. I just figured you'd be worried."

"He texted last night saying not to expect him."

"AKA he went home with some girl last night," Clarke said, her face strategically neutral, but her voice had a sardonic undertone.

"Ew. No!" Octavia exclaimed, knowing her brother hooked up with girls was different from actively thinking about it. "He actually texted saying Murphy came into the bar last night and was too drunk to get himself back to his apartment, so Bell was going to take him home after closing and then crash there."

"Oh," was all Clarke responded.

Octavia smiled, "If I didn't know any better, I would say that you were disappointed he wasn't here."

Clarke made a face. "New topic please!"

Octavia laughed and then sobered, "That's what I was actually coming to tell you: your mom called me this morning. She said she's been trying to call you, but you won't take answer."

"If she's going to cut me off and basically tell me I'm dead to her, then she doesn't deserve to know that I am alive and well."

"Whelp, too late for that. I just told her you were still kicking and had moved in with me."

"And now that she knows that she has no more reason to call me. Problem solved."

Octavia rolled her eyes, "Pick up next time, Clarke, she sounded genuinely worried."

Clarke narrowed her eyes at her friend.

"Hey, at least you still have a mom to worry about you," Octavia said in a quiet voice.

"Octavia Blake, how do you know just how to play your cards to make me crumble every single time?" Clarke sighed, "I'll pick up next time she calls."

"It's only because I know you inside and out, my dear," Octavia said with a smile. "So we going out tonight?" She changed the subject, not wanting to linger on the topic of her mother who had passed away while she was just a kid. Bellamy had done a great job raising her, stepping up even before their mom had passed away, but it still didn't make losing her mother any easier.

Clarke knew exactly what her friend was doing and allowed the subject to change after reaching over to give Octavia's hand a quick squeeze of reassurance, "I'm still applying for part time jobs, but if I get ten applications done today, I'll come out tonight."

"I thought you had a job at the Conservation Center."

"I do, but it's only part time. They said they can't afford to bring me on full time right now, especially since I don't have a full degree in a related field, only my minor in art and a couple art history classes," Clarke explained. "I can pay the rent no problem, but I feel like you're the one buying all the groceries and paying for the take-out."

"Am not!" Octavia argued, "And even if I was, I don't mind; you paid for me a lot over the past years."

"Correction: my mom paid for us a lot over the past years."

Octavia growled her aggravation. "Fine, you can get a second job, but you're definitely coming out tonight. I want you and Lincoln to get to know each other more than the two, two minute conversations you've had."

"So things are getting serious?" Clarke scooted to the edge of the couch, waggling her eyebrows.

"Nothing official yet, but the couple dates that we've been on have been fantastic!" Octavia's eyes got a dreamy look to them.

"Yay! Yes! I will come out and give Lincoln all the dirt on you!"

"I didn't say that!" Octavia reached out a foot to kick Clarke.

"He needs to know what he's getting into!" Clarke retorted, swatting away the foot. "Just let me get these applications in and then I will even go shopping with you, so you can find a super cute new outfit for tonight."

"You know me so well," Octavia smiled. "Now get to work, I will need ample shopping time!"

At 10:30 that night, Clarke and Octavia were strolling into the Drop Ship arm in arm, already a little tipsy. They meandered over to the bar and Octavia got the attention of her brother, "Bellamy!" she yelled at him, despite him serving someone else a little ways away. He held up a finger to say "one second."

"No, now!" she demanded, "Your little sister needs you!"

He finished the other customer's order before making his way over to the two girls, "How much have you guys had to drink already?" He asked as they giggled a little too excessively over the comment Octavia had just made about the lack of customer service.

"Shouldn't you be asking what we want now, not what we've had before?" Clarke asked.

"But you see, Princess, what I'm really asking is how much we have lost out on sales to you two already," Bellamy returned without missing a beat.

Clarke tried to think of a response, but failed, settling for placing their order instead, "Whiskey sour for me and cranberry vodka for O."

Bellamy rolled his eyes and started making their drinks.

"So, what time is Lincoln getting here?" she asked Octavia.

"Soon I hope," she gushed, "I can't wait to see his gorgeous brown eyes, and his arms and abs, oh, and you can't forget his smile, and his hands…"

"Who are we talking about?" Bellamy asked as he placed their drinks on the counter in front of them. Octavia shot a panicked look to Clarke, clearly not ready to let her overprotective brother know that she's seeing someone new.

"You, of course," Clarke said quickly covering for Octavia with the first answer that came to mind. Bellamy raised an eyebrow. "We were just fantasizing about getting our drinks; had you let her finish she would have clarified 'hands that are holding a whiskey sour and a cranberry vodka'…" Clarke was not sure whether or not her explanation was believable, but all Bellamy did was roll his eyes and go to take the next person's drink order.

"Seriously, Clarke?" Octavia questioned as they slid into a booth.

"Like you were being helpful with your panicked look," Clarke scoffed.

"I was talking about his arms…and his ABS! Do you think I fantasize about my brother's abs?! That's disgusting!"

"He was the first person I could think of!"

"So you're fantasizing about my brother's abs."

"What? No!" Clarke stuttered, "He was standing right in front of me, of course he was the first person that came to mind!"

Before the argument could go any further, a third person slid into the booth next to Octavia. "Lincoln!" Octavia excitedly exclaimed, throwing her arms around him and planting a small kiss on his lips.

Lincoln shot a look at Clarke, note entirely comfortable with the PDA his almost girlfriend was showing. Octavia noticed the look, "You don't have to worry about Clarke," she reassured him, "she's seen far worse."

Clarke chuckled, "That I have, that I have…Anyway, good to see you again, Lincoln."

"You, too," he said, "How's life in the art world?" The first time Lincoln had come to their apartment to pick up Octavia for a date, she had been nowhere near ready in typical Octavia fashion. This had left Clarke and Lincoln in awkward silence with the occasional effort of small talk. That was, however, before they got on the topic of art; with Lincoln being a photographer and Clarke working at the Conservation Center, and both of them sketching on their own time, they soon bonded over their mutual love for the visual arts.

"There's this one painting I'm working on right now," Clarke babbled happily. "It's this old painting of some woods and there's this deer that almost looks like two deer, and everyone is arguing whether it's one deer or two; it's really fascinating. I like to think it's a deer with two heads. I just wish there was more information on it, though: anonymous artist, unknown date, unknown location."

"Sounds fascinating," Lincoln said genuinely, "I'll have to stop by your work some time and see if you can sneak me in to the back rooms; I've always wanted to see more of the background of museums and such."

"Only if you promise to bring me your portfolio like we talked about. From what I've seen of your published stuff, I can't imagine what else you've got tucked away."

If Lincoln was the type of guy to blush, he would have, instead, he looked down, humbling accepting her praise. "I'll make sure to grab it next time I come over to see Octavia."

"You'd better."

"Speaking of which," Octavia said, "You totally need to come to dinner at our place; Clarke makes a mean lasagna and we just picked up the ingredients for one the other day."

"I never say no to a lasagna," Lincoln proclaimed.

"I'll make it…" Clarke mentally walked through her work week schedule, "on Wednesday…does that work?"

"I can do Wednesday," Lincoln confirmed.

"Let's say six o'clock?"

"My mouth is watering, just thinking about it," Octavia joked.

"Oh," said Clarke, remembering her promise to Octavia earlier, "So, Lincoln, now that you're officially dating Octavia…"

Octavia gave Clarke a stern look and mouthed, "Not official."

Lincoln, on the other hand, did not seem phased by Clarke's word choice

Clark ignored her friend, "—do I have some stories to share with you."

Octavia groaned, "I thought we agreed we weren't doing this."

"No," Clarke retorted, "You agreed we weren't doing this." And with that Clarke launched into a number of stories about Octavia's antics over the years, including the prank wars that had led to them meet Jasper and Monty, the finals week in which they made studying into a drinking game (needless to say it was not a good idea), and the time Octavia made a highly sexual joke at a rather inopportune time. Octavia threw in her own jabs and made sure Clarke's participation in each of the stories was noted. The three of them laughed and enjoyed each other's company, the time passing easily.

When Lincoln had left to get the next round, Octavia looked intently at Clarke, "So…"

"He's great, O. The more I talk to him, the more I like him. Not to mention he's totally into you; don't think I didn't pick up on you guys casually holding hands under the table!"

Octavia bit her bottom and smiled, "I really, really like him, Clarke."

"I know. And unlike most of your previous boyfriends, he gets the Clarke seal of approval."

Octavia smiled in return, pleased that her best friend had only good things to say.

"Do you guys know the bartender or something?" Lincoln asked as he slid their drinks on the table, having somehow managed to carry all three over.

Clarke and Octavia simultaneously looked at each other with wide-eyed panic, and exclaimed, "Shit."

"Congratulations, you just met Octavia's brother," Clarke told Lincoln.

"Did he give you a hard time?" Octavia asked, worried.

"Not exactly, he just made some wry comment about how you two would con some guy into getting you drinks and to not get my hopes up."

"Good. Then he didn't realize you were actually here with us, or well with Octavia, he wouldn't give a flying rat's ass who I was here with," Clarke said as Octavia sighed with relief.

"I'm confused," Lincoln confessed.

"Let's just say my brother can be a bit overprotective," Octavia supplied.

"And that's probably stating it mildly," Clarke added.

As the clock was about to strike midnight Raven and Wick walked in and Octavia and Lincoln made their leave. Raven tried to convince them to stay, but Lincoln admitted to having a flight for his next assignment the following morning and Octavia wanted to say her goodbyes. The remaining three made their way to the dance floor. Before long Clarke felt someone tap her shoulder, she turned her head to look over her shoulder and saw a good looking guy who leaned down and yelled in her ear—as that was the only way to hear what was said this close to the DJ—"Do you want to dance?" When Clarke nodded her assent, he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her close, her back to his front, and they began moving to the beat of the music.

A song or so later heard a very loud and angered voice yelled, "Get your hands off her!" Clarke looked to the source of the outraged voice to find none other than Bellamy Blake. Typical, Clarke scoffed as she looked around the dance floor wondering when Octavia had come back to the bar and with whom she was dancing. Clarke kept dancing, until she realized it was her that Bellamy was stalking over to as he yelled his command again. "Get your fucking hands off her!" he shouted at the guy who was holding Clarke's hips from behind.

"Sorry, dude, I didn't realize…" Clarke's partner's hands immediately fell to his sides and he quickly stepped back before basically running the other direction. Apparently someone doesn't have a backbone, Clarke rolled her eyes.

Her own backbone went taunt as she turned to Bellamy and yelled through gritted teeth, "What are you doing?"

"His hands were all over you!"

"And…" Clarke said, annoyed that he had ruined a perfectly good time.

"Don't you know that guys are only after one thing, especially when his hands are all over you like that asshole's were?"

"Oh, you mean like how your hands were all over Gina the other week and then you went back to her place to hook up?"

"Exactly! Guys just want to hook up!"

"So I can't just want to hook up?"

"No, you can't!"

"Why not?"

"That's not the kind of person you are!"

"You don't even know me!"

Bellamy growled an incoherent reply.

Clarke continued her rampage, "I'm not Octavia, you're not my big brother, you have no right to tell me what I can and can't do, let alone what I can and can't want. Not that you have the right to tell Octavia that either, but that's another story for another day. So, why don't you just Back. The fuck. Off!" With that Clarke whipped around and walked away seething, leaving Bellamy staring into empty space his hands balled into fists at his sides. He turned and strode back to the bar, anger annunciating his every step.

Clarke reached the spot where Raven and Wick had stopped dancing and were staring at the spectacle, much like everyone else in the bar. "What the fuck was that about?" Clarke demanded, not really seeking an answer.

"I have an idea or two…"

"Care to share with the class?" Clarke snapped, exasperated and still fuming.

"Not at the moment," Raven replied with a smile, one that was mirrored by her fiancé.

"Whatever," Clarke dismissed.

A few minutes after working off her anger by muttering and sulking, Clarke was somewhat surprised to be approached by a man with long dark hair and pale eyes. "I'm Roan," he said holding out his hand.

"Clarke," she answered, shaking his hand with a coy smile.

"Join me for a dance?"

"I'd love to," she said with a smile.

As he took her hand and led her toward the DJ he turned over his shoulder and said, "Don't worry, if your bartender friend tries to bother us again, I won't tuck my tails between my legs and make a run for it."

"You saw that?" She asked sheepishly.

"The whole bar did," he answered truthfully. "But I like a girl with fight in her, and you seem like you could slay mountains," he added with a wink.

As they began dancing, Roan's hands found a place snuggly low on her hips, occasionally gliding down to her thighs. Clarke looked up and toward the bar. Bellamy was looking at her a frown upon his face. She made direct eye contact, smiled, and grinded harder against Roan. Bellamy looked down and away, then went to help a customer at the other end of the bar.

Bellamy was woken up from the couch in the wee hours of the morning to the sound of someone moving around in the apartment. He sat up, ready to yell at Clarke or Octavia for making noise so early, but was instead greeted by the site of the same guy with whom Clarke had been dancing the night before, not the first guy who had run at the sight of Bellamy, the second one with whom Clarke had seemed to make a point of dancing with, and apparently having sex with, just to piss Bellamy off. After she had caught his eye with basically a challenge to try and stop her, Bellamy had kept to the other half of the bar and made an extended effort not to look at the dance floor again. He succeeded so well, he hadn't even noticed when she left, and definitely didn't notice she had left with him.

As the long haired scumbag was closing the door he finally noticed Bellamy's gaze and had the audacity to give him a head nod. It took all Bellamy's willpower to not sprint off the couch and hunt down the bastard to punch him in the face.

Bellamy tossed and turned for the next hour, but his blood was boiling too hot for him to fall back asleep. He finally rolled off the couch and made some coffee and got ready for the day. He was just putting his mug in the sink when Clarke entered the kitchen stretching and smiling like a satisfied cat.

"Awe. Leaving so soon?" She asked upon noticing him, "I was just about to poison your coffee."

"Just put it in your own and solve both our problems," Bellamy answered and left the apartment in a huff.

Fun Fact: There was more to Clarke's meet and dash in the last chapter than meets the eye. It's been difficult for me to write Lincoln's character because he's a man of few words, but all that he says and does is laced with caring, especially for Octavia. In case you haven't noticed, I'm a very dialogue driven writer (and reader), so trying to write for a character who doesn't say much is a struggle. And thus, I'm just going to kind of dodge extended conversations with him…