As always, many thanks to all of you out there who read, follow, and/or favorite. Chapter Eight:

It was Wednesday, early afternoon and Clarke was walking down the street with Maya, who was a year younger than Clarke and doing work at the Conservation Center to complete her senior thesis in Art History.

"So…I met this guy at the Drop Ship last week," Maya was telling her. "He's got brown hair, and brown eyes, and an infectious smile. He's kind of goofy, but really smart. He just got a degree in Chemistry and is looking into Masters programs for it."

"Yeah?" Clarke asked, prompting for more.

"His name is Jasper, and—"

"Wait!" Clarke stopped her, "Jasper? As in Jasper Jordon?"

"Yeah, how did you know?" Maya inquired, her brow creasing.

"Do you remember that story I told you about my sophomore year and the prank wars Octavia and I got into that were ended by the dean when someone put baking soda in all the ketchup bottles at my and Octavia's sorority's All-American burgers and franks fundraiser?"

Maya laughed, "Yeah."

"Well, it was none other than Jasper Jordon behind that master plan." Clarke laughed at the memory, "The dean couldn't prove it was Jasper, but said he would punish anyone he suspected was the least bit associated if anything else happened. All Jasper did was bemoan the fact it was the rudimentary chemistry that got him in trouble and that he didn't even have time to get into the, quote, 'really fun stuff.'"

"Oh my god! I can't believe they're the same person!" Maya exclaimed and then got really quiet. "…does that mean you have his phone number?" she asked, blushing furiously.

"As a matter of fact, I do!" Clarke told her happily before reaching into her purse and then reading the number off her phone. Jasper deserved a nice girl like Maya in his life. Clarke only hoped that Jasper wouldn't rub off too much on the innocent girl, but, then again, maybe they would be a good push and pull on each other; Jasper bringing out a more daring and open side to Maya, and Maya reigning him in just a little.

After walking and chatting, with Maya occasionally texting a certain someone, Clarke saw an old bookstore she insisted they go in; the smell and feel of old books were one of the most comforting things to her.

They both started out by the art and art history books, but Clarke soon began to wander away from Maya who was engrossed in a book about Van Gogh. Clarke trailed her fingers along the spines of the books that lined the weaving shelves and suddenly came to a section of Classical Literature. She stroked the spines of the Iliad and Aeneid in their original Greek and Latin, before picking up a copy of Catullus' poetry, she opened to a random page and read poem 27, laughing aloud at the line that could be translated literally as "drunker than a drunken grape." She tucked the book under her arm to buy. She was just about to turn away and find Maya again when she saw a thin hardcover book laying face up on the table How to Insult, Abuse, and Insinuate in Classical Latin. Her mind immediate went to Bellamy. Not only were they always insulting and abusing each other, but talking about Latin was the first time they hadn't been overwhelmed by the desire to throttle one another; the day had ended with only a mild need to thump the other in the head with a Latin dictionary. That book joined the first under her arm. She wandered back to Maya, they paid for their books, and left.

Clarke was just putting dinner in the oven when Octavia poked her head into the kitchen, having just come home from work. "Are you wearing the lasagna or are we having it for dinner?" She asked with a laugh.

Clarke turned to her with a smile, "Well, you know, it was such a pretty shade of red, I just had to see if I could pull it off."

"As beautiful as it is, you might want to change before you get sauce all over the rest of the apartment."

"You just don't want Lincoln to think that you live with a slob."

Octavia shook her head in laughter and went to go put her stuff in her room. She wandered back into the living and saw a couple books on the coffee table. She picked up the first one and flipped through it, but it was all in Latin so she put it back. Her brother and Clarke could read all the Latin they wanted, but it didn't mean she understood a word of it. She picked up the second book, How to Insult, Abuse, and Insinuate in Classical Latin; this one at least had English translations with the Latin. She began paging backwards through the book, reading several insults and laughing to herself. When she got to the cover page she saw Clarke had handwritten something:

Bellame Blake, manu sinistra
non belle uteris, in ioco atque aurorae:
tollis pocilla neglegentiorum.
Hoc salsum esse putas? Fugit te, inepte:
Quamvis sordida res et invenusta est.
Non credis mihi? Crede Octaviae
sorori, qui tua furta vel talent
mutari velit; est enim leporum
differtus puella ac facetaiarum.
Quare aut hendecasyllabos trecentos
exspecta, aut mihi pocillum remitte,
quod non me movet aestimatione,
verum est mnemosynum mei sodallis.
Nam caffea Saetablle ex Hiberis
miserunt mihi muneri Corvus
et Filum; haec amem necesse est
ut Corvum meum et Filum.

xoxo,
Clarke

She didn't have to know Latin to realize that first phrase meant "Bellamy Blake." At that point Clarke walked into the room, having changed out of her sauce covered clothing. "Are you writing about my brother in your books now?" She asked teasingly, but desperately needing an answer.

"No!" her friend answered quickly, knowing what Octavia was insinuating. "Well, technically yes," Clarke admitted and shook her head, before rushing into a defensive explanation. "I found it at a used bookstore. It was like two bucks, so I thought I'd get it for Bellamy. But then when I was reading the book I got for myself—the Catullus that's on the table—a poem inspired me to write a short dedication to him before I gave him the book." Clarke reached her hand out for the book, which Octavia gave her. "This roughly translates to:

Bellamy Blake, your left hand
You do not use it well: in morning and jest
You take cups of coffee of the more careless.
Do you think that this is witty? Get lost, foolish man:
This thing is utterly sordid and unattractive.
Do you not believe me? Believe Octavia
Your sister, who would wish that your acts of stealing
Be changed for even a talent: for the girl
Is full of wit and charm.
Thus expect three hundred hendecasyllabic verses
Or return a cup of coffee to me,
Which does not move me by means of price,
But rather it is a remembrance of my friends.
For Raven and Wick sent Saetaban coffee
From the Spaniards to me as a gift;
It must be cherished
Just as my Raven and Wick must be."

Octavia burst out laughing at Clarke's dramatic reading. "So, basically, you're giving a book full of insults with a handwritten 'fuck you for stealing my coffee' note on the inside?"

"Yup," Clarke said with a smile. "In Catullus' poem, he's addressing someone who stole some napkins from him, but I just did a little tweaking of coffee for napkin and of the names and wrote it in there. Oh, and I changed 'wine' for 'morning' because he wasn't drunk, just a jackass."

"I can't believe you're still holding onto that! It was like a month ago!"

"No one steals my coffee and gets away with it," Clarke said with a mock menacing glare.

It was Friday night, quarter to 9:00, and Clarke was sitting at the bar at the Drop Ship waiting on a whiskey sour as she wasted time before her friends would show up. Raven had been upset that Clarke and Octavia had had Lincoln over for dinner without inviting her to grill Octavia's new boyfriend and so the four of them were meeting up for drinks. It wasn't until after Clarke had gotten to the bar and ordered a drink before she checked her phone and saw that the gathering had been pushed back to 9:30. Clarke just decided to remain at the Drop Ship, rather than walk back to her apartment only to have to turn immediately back around.

"Looking for your next one night stand?" Bellamy asked with a tone Clarke couldn't quite place, as he set her drink in front of her.

"Oh, you know it," Clarke said sarcastically. "I'm torn between the middle aged man with a beer belly trying to relive his glory days and the kid who has clearly never been in a bar before."

That got a small chuckle out of Bellamy as he looked out into the bar. "I don't know, Princess," he said. "You might want to avoid cradle robbing, I'm guessing that one comes with a day in court."

"Psh. He wouldn't accuse me of statutory rape. I would forever be that beautiful woman who swiped his V-card." She laughed, "But, maybe you're right. Beer belly it is!" She mocked getting ready to go talk to him.

"What was that? Did I just hear you say I was right?" Bellamy exclaimed.

"No, I said maybe you're right."

"There! You said it again!"

Clarke rolled her eyes, "Don't you have drinks you should be making?"

Bellamy looked over his shoulder at the rest of the people crowding around the bar, a couple giving him glares. "Yeah, I should probably actually be doing my job. It's getting pretty busy in here tonight…wait a second, what time is it?" He asked.

"9:05," Clarke informed him.

"Jasper was supposed to start five minutes ago, where is he? He's never late," his facial expression half worried, half annoyed.

"Do you want me to give him a call?" Clarke asked.

"Yeah, could you?"

Clarke nodded and got out her phone as Bellamy began taking someone's drink order. She found Jasper's number and hit the call button. She pressed her phone to one ear and her hand to the other to better here in the bar that was getting more and more crowded by the second. The phone rang through and Clarke got his voice mail, she immediately hung up, and hit redial: voicemail again. Now, she was starting to get worried. She called a third time. Right before it was about to go to voicemail yet again, someone picked up.

"Hello? Clarke. Keep it quick, I'm in the middle of a date. A really good date," Jasper said in a quick whisper.

"Aren't you supposed to be in the middle of a shift?"

"I asked Harper to cover it, but she said she couldn't, so I texted Monty."

"And he said he'd cover it?"

"Well, I didn't get a response, I just assumed…"

"Jasper!" Clarke shouted exasperatedly

"…And now, that I'm looking at my phone, Monty says he can't and, and, shit!...how pissed is Bellamy right now?"

"He was more worried, but if he finds out you just didn't show…"

"Clarke, please, I don't know what to do. I don't want to just ditch Maya, but I can't just leave Bellamy alone. How busy is it?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Clarke questioned, looking around at the growing groups and lines surrounding the bar.

"That bad?"

Clarke made an impulse decision. "You know what Jasper, don't you worry about it, I've got you covered. You just have a good time, and make sure you're nice to Maya because I will be hearing every detail of your date on Monday."

"Clarke," Jasper said in a worried tone, "What are you doing?"

"I'm covering your shift."

"You don't even work there!"

"But I know how to make a drink, and seriously, when was the last time your boss came in? You're always saying you never see her."

"Clarke—"

"Be good to Maya!" Clarke said and hung up the phone before weaving her way to get behind the bar.

She had already finished two transactions before Bellamy noticed her, "What the fuck are you doing, Clarke?!" he screamed.

"Jasper's not coming, and neither Harper nor Monty could cover his shift, so I'm filling in for him." Clarke turned to the next person at the bar, "What can I get you?"

"Four tequila shots, Patron," said the patron.

Clarke began grabbing four shot glasses from under the bar along with the bottle of Patron from the shelf. Bellamy grabbed her wrist, the one not holding the expensive tequila. "Clarke! You don't work here!"

"Fine! You want to work this crowd alone? Good luck!" She said, tearing her wrist from his grip.

"You don't even know what you're doing!"

"Four words: pool house mini bar. How did you think I made it through all those functions with my parents? By eighteen I was a pro."

Bellamy growled his frustration, but looking at the crowds that were out tonight he knew he was screwed if he had to do it alone, and it wasn't like he had time to call the boss or someone else to come. "But you don't know what anything is priced." His arguments, along with the frustrated tone, were weakening.

"I've been coming to this bar for a few years and I've been to plenty of other bars, so I've got a good idea. If I have any questions, I'll ask." Clarke looked him in the eye, holding his gaze with a stubborn look. He needed her; if he was going to survive the night and not lose The Drop Ship business or money, he needed her help.

Clarke watched the internal debate flicker across his eyes. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, "Okay," he sighed, "but my boss NEVER finds out about this. And you ask me the second you have even the slightest question about a drink, a price, anything."

"Deal," Clarke said with a nod. "Now maybe we should get back to work." Their conversation had taken less than a minute, but the people surrounding the bar were impatient and angry seeing the only to bartenders talking to each other rather than helping any customers.

Before they knew it, it was half an hour till closing. The bar had quieted down as the bar hoppers made their way elsewhere and others had called it a night. Clarke and Bellamy had worked flawlessly together, weaving around each other, handing over a bottle if the other was closer; it was like a goddamn choreographed dance.

"Admit it, I was the best co-worker you've ever had," Clarke said elbowing Bellamy in the gut as they leaned against the back counter behind the bar.

"Not a chance I'm ever going to admit that," Bellamy replied.

"Ah, see you know it's true, you're just refusing to admit it," Clarke smiled up at him, a saw a soft smile alighting his features as well. They held eye contact for a moment. Bellamy opened his mouth to say something when Octavia plopped onto a stool at the bar, Raven and Lincoln joining her.

"So, you gonna tell me why you're playing bartender tonight, Clarke?" she asked.

"Jasper was on a date and thought Monty was going to cover for him, but Monty couldn't so…yeah, here I am."

It was at this point that Bellamy was taking a hard look at Lincoln, specifically he was looking at how Lincoln's hand was gently resting on Octavia's leg. "I'd suggest you move your hand," Bellamy said menacingly to Lincoln.

"I'm sorry?" Lincoln said, looking at Bellamy slightly confused, Clarke couldn't tell if it was genuine or mock confusion.

"Bellamy," Octavia warned at the same time.

"I said, get your hand off of my sister," Bellamy reiterated through gritted teeth.

Lincoln's hand didn't move. He just continued to make direct eye contact with Bellamy. "I think it's Octavia's choice whether or not she wants my hand there," he said simply. While Clarke could clearly see how built Lincoln was, he had never seemed to use it to look intimidating, that was, until this very moment. If Clarke hadn't seen how sweet he was with Octavia, or how animated and passionate he got when discusses his work and art with her, Clarke would have gone running in the other direction had Lincoln's gaze been directed at her. But Bellamy did not share that sentiment, instead he used his own height and build to make himself seem more threatening.

"So I take it you two haven't met," Raven broke in, trying her best to relieve some pressure. "Allow me the honor. Lincoln, this is Bellamy, Octavia's overbearing, overprotective brother. Bellamy, this is Lincoln, Octavia's boyfriend who she really likes and doesn't want to see get in a fist fight with her brother." The two men continued to stare each other down in silence, neither seeming to have heard Raven. Clarke settled her hand on Bellamy's right bicep, trying to soothe him. She could feel the tautness of his bunched muscles. She ran her hand down the length of his arm and rubbed her thumb across the back of his balled fist. After a minute, his shoulders lost some of their stiffness and Clarke unfurled his fingers, continuing to gently massage his hand, which then interlocked their fingers and gave her a small squeeze. Clarke sighed, at least no punches were going to be thrown tonight.

The two men maintained eye contact, lost in a test of wills; tensions were high and no one heard a third party approach until she spoke, "Bellamy! And…I don't seem to remember hiring you…" Whosever voice it was seemed to jerk Bellamy out of the trance he was in.

"Lexa!" he quickly greeted the newcomer, releasing Clarke's hand.

"Can I have a moment, Bellamy?" she asked and started to walk away from the group.

"See, this is why I told you not to help," Bellamy hissed to Clarke.

"You guys say she never comes in. She has like ten other bars she owns," Clarke hissed back.

"Twelve. But she usually spends her time relaxing at Trikru or trying to keep Ice Nation in check," Bellamy returned, starting in the direction Lexa had gone. "If I get fired, I'm blaming you," he whispered over his shoulder.

Clarke sunk her head into her hands, resting her elbows on the bar, and took a deep breath. She did not want to be responsible for Bellamy losing his job.

She heard Octavia murmuring a quiet goodbye to Lincoln who clearly didn't want to leave things as they were with Bellamy, himself, and her.

"Bellamy's already on edge and with his boss coming in, I don't think it's a good idea for you to stick around," she told him.

"I'm not one to run away from a fight, especially when it comes to you," Lincoln returned, his voice softening for the second half of the sentence.

"I know. I know. But we'll do it some other time. I promise."

Lincoln must have nodded his response because the next thing Clarke heard was Lincoln's voice from a little further away. "Text me when you get home."

"You too," replied Octavia.

A minute later Bellamy returned to the group. Clarke looked up anxiously as she heard his footsteps approach; she bit her lips, eyes laced with worry and question. "So?" She asked quietly.

"I, uh, got a promotion…" Bellamy said, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, not quite believing it himself.

"What?" the three girls crowed in unison.

"Yeah. I took responsibility for Clarke being behind the bar even though she doesn't work here, Lexa asked how the night went, I told her, and then said I made a good decision, and asked if I wanted to be the manager here."

"That's great, Bell!" Octavia exclaimed.

"Oh, and she wanted me to offer you a job, Clarke."

"She? What? I—uh." Clarke stammered, the results being the exact opposite of what she had anticipated. "Heck yeah, I'll take the job!" She said after having aligned her thoughts. Now, she could stop applying for those other jobs and be a contributing member of their household! "Wait a second, let's backtrack here." Clarke said, holding up a finger. "You said she asked how the night went, which means that you must have told her I'm the best co-worker you've ever had." She harkened back to their earlier conversation. "You admitted it! Ha!"

"You have no proof of that!" Bellamy said, laughing.

"Yes I do," Clarke retorted. "I got a job," she said motioning to herself, "and you got a promotion," she poked him in the chest as she spoke.

Bellamy grabbed the hand that had poked him and held onto it, "And you know what that means?" He asked, a gleam in his eye, "I'm your boss now, so you have to be nice to me."

"Good thing I got you a present that's waiting in our apartment," Clarke teased.

"You got me a present?" Bellamy inquired, baffled.

"Yup. And I added a personal inscription and everything," Clarke chuckled to herself, remembering exactly what the inscription was.

"Get a room!" Octavia yelled teasingly.

"Seriously, though," Raven agreed. "And people say Wick and I have been sickening sweet since the engagement."

Bellamy immediately dropped Clarke's hand at the same moment she took a big step away.

"We are not—"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," the two stammered avoiding eye contact with everyone in the vicinity.

"Whatever you say," Octavia said with a roll of her eyes. "I'm going back to the apartment to crash. I assume you two can get there okay?" They nodded.

"My uber is outside waiting for me, anyway," Raven said. "And by uber, I mean, uber-awesome fiancé!"

"This is why people say you're sickeningly sweet," Clarke said shaking her head at her friend, trying to hide the smile that was creeping onto her face.

"Can you and Wick drop Octavia off?" Bellamy asked.

"Geez, Bell, it's barely two blocks," Octavia complained.

"Two blocks you're walking alone, at night."

"I have pepper spray," she argued.

"Come on, Octavia," Raven said, pulling on her arm, "The sooner you give in, the sooner you'll be home," she reasoned.

After they left Clarke turned to Bellamy, "She only does that to push your buttons, you know?" she reassured him. "She really does appreciate you looking out for her, just maybe try to do it a little less when it comes to her boyfriends. Lincoln really is a great guy."

Bellamy grunted in return and mumbled something about cleaning up.

Fun Fact #1: How to Insult, Abuse, and Insinuate in Classical Latin is a real book and is truly amusing to read.

Fun Fact #2: The poem Clarke rewrote is Catullus 12. I got really excited when changing the names because first Octavia, as you know, is named after someone from ancient Rome (Augustus' sister) so her name was easy to fit in there. For Raven and Wick I used the Latin words for their names as in the bird and the wick of a candle (yeah, wick was a bit of a stretch). For Bellamy, I just kind of threw on a vocative ending and called it a day because there's no word that would be close for him. I am a little upset that the meter of the poem is now off because of the name and object changes, but I figured it'd be okay for the sake of the plot, though I imagine Clarke would have put the effort into keeping it in hendecasyllabic verses rather than just substituting words, but I haven't taken Latin in a year and I always hated meter, so...