A/N: I know I'm so late with this, I'm really sorry guys. Life just got in the way. I have already started the next chapter (it was supposed to be part of this one but I just got a little carried away and it ended up way too long). I'm hoping it will be up by next week but honestly things are hectic right now so I'm not sure. Anyways, I hope this makes up for the wait.
"I-I'm sorry I thought-"
"No it was my fault I should have-"
"I was just trying to thank you-"
"Really, Princess it was just-"
Both Bellamy and Clarke's rush of excuses faded as they both laughed nervously. He ran a hand through his hair and she tired to look anywhere other than his eyes. It was an accident, that was all. It didn't mean anything. Yes her heart was pounding and yes she still felt his warmth on her lips and yes a part of her wanted to try again but that didn't mean anything. Clarke could practically hear Wells' voice contradicting her thoughts but she pushed him away.
"Well, we should probably, you know…" Clarke gestured at the door Bellamy was blocking.
He stared at her dumbly for a second, eyes still wide with shock, before registering her words. "Oh, right, uh, sorry." Bellamy jumped out of the way of the door and grabbed their bags. Clarke held the door open for him before following Bellamy into the house and up the stairs. On the upstairs landing he handed Clarke her large Vera Bradley tote and seemed to search her face at a loss for what to say. Clarke saved him the trouble.
"Well, goodnight," she stammered out awkwardly.
"Uh, yeah. Night."
Neither of them moved.
"Um, about… what happened, Bellamy. It was an accident; I swear I wasn't… I was going to kiss you on the cheek because-"
"Don't worry about it, Princess." The gravity in his eyes seemed to contradict the nonchalance of his words. Clarke nodded a little too enthusiastically.
"Yeah, uh, lets just forget about it, huh?"
"Like it never happened," he agreed.
"Just some weird fluke."
"Yep."
"Yeah."
"Okay well…"
"Oh, right. Uh, goodnight."
"Goodnight, Clarke."
"Thanks again, for everything."
"No problem."
"Right, goodnight. For real this time."
He chuckled, "For real. Goodnight."
They stared at each other for a moment longer before turning away to their respective rooms. Hours later Clarke still lay wide awake in bed trying hard to forget the awkward accident. It was a hard thing to do, though, when her senses were still overwhelmed by how close they had been, how his lips had felt, the strange look in his eyes afterwards. With a groan Clarke flopped onto her stomach. For the first time in months she hated Bellamy Blake again, though it was for a reason very different than it ever had been before.
Sure enough, the next morning Bellamy did a wonderful job of acting like they hadn't accidentally kissed the night before. Octavia rambled on about what she had done that week and questioned Clarke and Bellamy about DC and Wells. Bellamy easily slid into his signature sarcastic humor, teasing both girls while making them breakfast. From the outside Clarke was sure it seemed as if nothing had changed, but she could help but feel that underneath something was different.
In the middle of October Monty turned 21. He was the last of Octavia's friend to reach the landmark and she and Jasper were determined to make the most of it. Monty, however, begged for a small, simple dinner with the group and thanks to the help of Miller, Clarke was able to convince Octavia to settle for a big potluck at the Blake's.
"I just can't believe he doesn't want a party, he is 21 for God's sake!"
"Yeah like this would be his first taste of alcohol," Miller said sarcastically.
"That's not the point-"
"The point is, Octavia, that its Monty's birthday and this is what he wants," Clarke interrupted.
"Fine, but its going to be the best damn potluck of his life."
"It better be." Miller sounded determined.
To Miller's approval, the potluck certainly was pretty damn good. It was made even better when Maya graciously accepted her earnings after winning the running bet on when Monty and Miller would finally get together.
"What are you so smiley about, Princess," Bellamy asked, startling Clarke as she leaned against the wall watching Monty and Miller.
"Nothing," she replied as he settled next to her. "They are just cute, that's all."
"I just don't understand why they couldn't have been cute two weeks later and let me win the bet."
Clarke laughed and nudged Bellamy's shoulder. "Just because you aren't a romantic doesn't mean others can't be."
"Who says I'm not a romantic?"
Clarke scoffed. "Oh I don't know, maybe the constant flow of women who frequented your room this spring?"
Bellamy rolled his eyes at her. "Oh come on, Princess. Don't tell me you are jealous."
She narrowed his eyes at his boyish smirk. "Not in the slightest, Bellamy Blake."
A comfortable silence settled over them as they watched the new couple giggling on the couch.
"Just because I like hooking up doesn't mean I'm not romantic you know."
"Bellamy-"
"I do want something like that," he continued, gesturing towards Miller and Monty. "I mean, eventually, I would like to settle down. With the right person."
"Are you drunk?" Clarke joked to lighten the mood. For some reason Bellamy talking about settling down made her nervous.
Bellamy laughed. "Maybe a little, Princess. But that doesn't mean I'm not serious."
Clarke studied him for a moment before saying, "I don't know if I'll ever settle down."
Bellamy turned his gaze down toward her, surprise in his eyes. "Any why is that, Princess?"
"I don't know," she replied with a shrug. "Maybe I'm not supposed to. I really thought that Finn could be the one. Other than him I've never met anyone who I could see myself really marrying or anything. Plenty of women don't marry or have kids now. Maybe I'm one of them." After she finished speaking she looked up to meet Bellamy's gaze. His eyes were intensely focused on her.
"Don't give up just yet, Princess," Bellamy said after a moment, voice deep and rough in a way that sent a shiver down Clarke's spine. She cleared her throat and broke away from his dark eyes before mumbling some excuse about getting another beer. Minutes later, as she sat in the kitchen holding an unopened beer bottle, Clarke did her best not to read too much into his words.
Both Bellamy and Clarke had to work on Halloween so Octavia decided to spend the evening with Lincoln in the city. Clarke was excited to work the holiday shift. Halloween was always a busy night at the ER and Clarke loved being kept on her toes. Bellamy, however, didn't seem quite so enthusiastic about working when she said met him on the porch in the evening.
"Just kill me now," he groaned as he followed her down the front steps. When their shifts matched up like this he had gotten into the habit of dropping her off at the hospital before continuing on to the precinct. Clarke laughed at his dramatic flair.
"Hey it won't be that bad. It will be busy so the time will fly by."
Bellamy rolled his eyes at her. "Of course you would love working a busy night. Miller has told me horror stories about the shit people get up to on Halloween. There is nothing more annoying than drunk teenagers which he claims is the majority of what I'm gonna be dealing with."
"At least you aren't being shot at."
"I don't know, if given the choice I might-"
"Oh shut up," Clarke laughed, hitting him lightly on the shoulder as she slid into the passenger seat of his patrol car. "When do you get off?"
"Three in the morning. You?"
"Two thirty."
"Are you walking home?" Bellamy looked concerned. Recently he had been more vocal about how much he didn't like Clarke walking home from the hospital late at night.
"I'll be fine."
"Clarke-"
"Really, Bellamy, I have been doing it for months now."
He fixed her with a look as he pulled into the street but dropped the subject. A few minutes later they pulled up to Sacred Ground. Clarke could feel Bellamy's eyes on her again as she gathered her things.
"After we both get home tonight we should do something, you know for Halloween."
"Sure. If you get a cab home."
Clarke rolled her eyes and huffed. "Bellamy I am old enough to-"
"It doesn't matter how old you are, Clarke. I know this neighborhood and what can happen in it. If being a cop has taught me anything it's that-"
"I'm not paying a cab to take me less than-"
"Then I can pick you up."
"My shift ends half an hour before you even get off and the precinct is all the way in-"
"Clarke, I just don't want-"
"I am capable of taking care of myself." Her voice was sharper than she intended but Clarke didn't apologize. She was sick of him worrying about her safety. For months Clarke had been walking to and from the hospital and had been fine.
Bellamy stared at her for a long moment before letting out a long, frustrated sigh.
"Fine. But I swear if I get a call that a blonde was assaulted-"
Clarke cut him off by slamming the patrol door closed and walking into the hospital.
As expected, her night flew by as a flood of patients assaulted the ER. After discharging a kid who had broken his leg trick-or-treating, Clarke was assigned a new patient who her boss, Dr. Nyko, said seemed to be in an altered mental state and was suffering from a head wound.
"Be careful, Griffin. He looks like trouble."
"I'll be fine, Nyko," Clarke replied harshly, Bellamy's words returning fresh to her mind.
The man certainly did seem to be in a state. He mumbled incoherently as she and a nurse inspected the gash on his head.
"Should we run a toxicology test, Dr. Griffin?"
"No, not yet. I think that this is just because of his head wo-" The words died in her mouth as the dirty, disheveled patient lurched forward and grabbed her hair. Clarke struggled against his grip but it was iron clad. She felt a second grubby, rough hand curl around her throat.
The nurse screamed as the man choking Clarke rambled on about how she couldn't make him go back to war. He seemed to not realize where he was or who she was. Clarke tried to speak, to tell the nurse to get help or maybe try to talk down her disorientated attacker, but no air could get through her throat. Black spots danced in front of her eyes as she clawed at the hand holding her throat. Suddenly strong arms pulled her away, breaking the patient's vice like grip on her.
Clarke gasped for breath on the floor, holding her head where her hair had been pulled. Everything happened in a blur; two of the larger nurses restraining the patient, Dr. Nyko pulling the nurse that had been assisting her from the room. A familiar faced danced into her vision.
"Clarke? Clarke are you okay? Just breathe alright, everything is okay." Lexa turned away to bark out orders to someone outside of the room before pulling Clarke to her feet. "Come on."
A moment later Clarke was sitting in the break room nursing a water bottle. Lexa watched her from across the table, eyes full of concern.
"I'm fine, Lexa. It was just shock. Really I'm okay."
"Clarke a patient just tried to strangle you."
"That's just part of the job. Now if you don't mind I would really like to get back to mine."
"You don't have to do this."
"What, my job?"
"No, act like nothing is wrong. It's okay to be scared, Clarke. This was scary."
"This is my job," Clarke snapped but made no move to get up. She was scared shitless, but more than anything Clarke just wanted to get back to work and push the attack to the back of her mind.
"Clarke-"
"Look I appreciate it, Lexa, really, but I just want to get back to my patients."
The doctor across opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted before she could.
"Griffin, go home." Dr. Nyko strode into the room with his arms crossed.
"Sir, I just want to-"
"I know you just want to work, Griffin, but there's only thirty minutes left on your shift. Even if that weren't the case I would send you home. You were attacked. You're lucky I'm not making you talk to a counselor or the police."
"It wasn't-"
"Clarke I'm not asking you if you want to go home, I'm telling you to. Unless you want that counselor I want you gone." Dr. Nyko was especially formal when it came to work. The fact that he used her first named told Clarke he wasn't going to take no for an answer. With a resigned sigh, Clarke nodded.
"Fine."
"Is there anyone you want us to call?"
"No, I'll be fine."
Minutes later Clarke stepped out into the night air. Something about being out of the hospital snapped Clarke out of her defiance. She crumpled down onto a bench with a shaky breath as the attack replayed in her mind. The screaming, the demented look in the man's eyes, the feeling of gasping for air and coming up dry. Before she could stop herself Clarke whipped out her phone.
Bellamy answered on the fourth ring.
"Clarke?"
Suddenly she couldn't catch her breath as a panic rose in her gut.
"Clarke? Clarke, what's wrong? Breathe, Princess. Talk to me."
"I… I just…"
"Clarke?"
"Can you drive me home?"
He was silent for a long moment.
"What happened?"
"Nothing, Bellamy, I just-"
"Clarke, what happened?"
She sighed with frustration. "I don't want to talk about it, okay? Can you just pick me up?"
"You still at the hospital?"
"Yeah."
"I can't leave my shift early but-"
"That's fine. I'll be out front."
She was met with extended silence again before Bellamy's deep voice responded.
"Are you okay?" Clarke could hear the worry in his words.
"Yeah," her voiced cracked against her will. "Yeah I'm okay."
"Alright." Bellamy didn't sound convinced. "See you soon, Princess."
"Okay."
He showed up just under an hour later. Clarke was still sitting on the bench, staring out into the night and hugging her knees to her chest when Bellamy pulled up to the curb. She stood as he slammed his door and moved towards her, eyes full of worry and unspoken questions.
"I'm fine," Clarke said hastily when Bellamy stopped in front of her, still in his full uniform.
She could she in his eyes that Bellamy was not convinced but he just nodded and opened the passenger side of his squad car.
The short drive home was silent. Clarke stared out her window watching the dark houses pass by. She could feel Bellamy's eyes on her occasionally but ignored them. Their argument earlier still annoyed Clarke and a part of her almost regretted calling him to pick her up; regretted showing weakness. After all nothing that bad had happened at the hospital. There were stories about patients, either on drugs or scared out of their minds, attacking doctors. It was just part of the job, especially in this part of the city.
To his credit, Bellamy didn't push her for information. Even after they settled on the couch, Clarke in an old t-shit and Bellamy in sweat pants, he didn't ask her what had happened. It was clear, however, that he knew something was up thanks to the frequent looks he gave her as Clarke flicked through the channels.
Fifteen minutes into the half finished Blair Witch Project, Clarke let her head fall against Bellamy's shoulder as she let out a sigh. Bellamy seemed to interpret it as his cue to speak.
"Clarke, I know something is up. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but I here if you need to talk."
Clarke was silent for a long while. She focused on the rise and fall of his shoulder as he breathed, on the movie playing on TV, the faint rattle of the heating. Finally she spoke without raising her head.
"A patient attacked me." Bellamy's arm around her shoulder tightened and Clarke could feel his muscles tensing beneath her head. "It wasn't a big deal, really. He had a bad head wound and looking back he probably was on some kind of drug or something. He didn't seem to understand where he was or what was happening."
"Did he hurt you?" There was a possessive quality to his voice that was almost masked by the concern, but not quite.
"No. Well, he… he tried to strangle me but-"
Bellamy pulled away and turned to face her, outrage on his face. "What? Clarke-"
"There was a nurse in there with me and they quickly got him off me, Bellamy. Like I said it's no big deal. This happens to ER doctors all the time."
"Clarke someone tried to-"
"They asked me if I wanted to talk to a counselor or the cops but I didn't so my supervisor told me to go home, my shift was almost over anyways. I really am okay."
"Yeah and that's why you called me to pick you up after decidedly telling me off for offering to pick you up." Clarke rolled her eyes at him. "Its okay to be scared, Clarke."
She let out a huff of frustration and turned back to the movie after pointedly scooting away from him on the couch. It was Bellamy's turn to roll his eyes.
By the time the movie ended they were on friendly terms again, but both determinedly avoided the topic of Clarke's attack. When they parted ways at the top of the steps for bed Bellamy gave Clarke a hard look. Shying away from his worried eyes she turned and crossed into her room. Thankfully Clarke fell asleep almost instantly after collapsing into bed.
An hour later, however, she jolted awake, grasping at her throat. In her dream invisible hands had clasped around her neck as Wells' shouted for her help in the distance. Still gulping in air Clarke threw off her covers and opened the window. It had been years since her nightmares last struck. After her dad's death they had been bad but slowly went away with time.
She tried to climb back into bed, but every time she closed her eyes invisible hands crawled up to her throat. Involuntarily her mind went to Bellamy and how quickly she had fallen asleep with him in DC. Forcing the idea from her mind Clarke flipped over and tried to fall asleep.
An hour later, still wide awake despite her exhaustion, Clarke sighed resignedly and slipped out of bed. Bellamy's door was shut causing Clarke to hesitate for a moment before twisting the handle as quietly as possible. Bellamy was sprawled out on top of the covers wearing only a pair of boxers. Blushing at his state of undress, Clarke took a moment to gaze around the room. She had only been in it once before, when they had fought so viciously back in the spring. Back then she had been entirely focused on him and her anger, not at all concerned with her surroundings. Looking around the dark room now, Clarke couldn't help but smile.
The room was surprisingly neat; no doubt a leftover trait from his days in the army. Books were piled on nearly every available surface. There was a bike in the corner and numerous pictures in frames on his dresser. Yet in many ways Clarke also saw the touches of his mom who had called this room her own years before. There were flowery, patterned curtains on the windows and pictures of two kids with dark hair adorned the walls next to small paintings of flowers and the seaside. Clarke supposed she should find it a bit strange that after living in the room for half a year Bellamy hadn't taken away the feminine touches, but then again she had gotten the sense his mother's death had been pretty traumatic. She hadn't wanted to touch any of her father's things after he died, it felt sacrilegious almost. Perhaps Bellamy felt the same.
With a sigh she padded over to the bed, staring at his sleeping form for a moment before tapping Bellamy lightly on the shoulder. He woke immediately, jerking awake with a wild look in his eyes. Startled, Clarke let out an embarrassing sound of fright before composing herself.
"Shit, Clarke, sorry… I thought…" He brushed a hand over his eyes trying to collect his thoughts and fully wake up. "What's wrong?" His eyes were once again fixed on her and once again full of concern.
"I-" Her voice broke causing Clarke to clear her throat and start again. "I had a bad dream." Instantly she felt her face flush in embarrassment at the words. She must have sounded like a three year old. Bellamy, however, seemed unfazed.
"You want to talk about it?"
Clarke shook her head. Bellamy reached out and grabbed her hand.
"I just don't want to be alone," she said quietly, refusing to meet his eyes.
Instead of answering Bellamy used their linked hands to tug her onto the bed. Pulling back the covers, he let her settle underneath them before readjusting himself on the opposite side of the bed.
"You don't have to sleep on top of the covers. I don't mind. Unless you want to- I'm not-" Clarke's rambles were cut off with Bellamy's quiet laugh.
"I don't mind it, Princess."
"Oh, okay."
They both lay in silence for a little while as Clarke worked up the nerve to say what was sitting on her tongue. "Well, I just… I mean I hope this doesn't sound… its just…" Bellamy looked at her, eyebrows raised. "I know this probably sounds stupid and I swear to God I am not trying to make a move or anything and I know I'm already imposing by waking you up and sleeping in here but-"
"If you want me to get under the covers just ask, Clarke."
"I just want to feel someone else," Clarke responded, sheepishly. "I know that probably sounds dumb."
"No, it doesn't," Bellamy said as he stood, pulled the covers back, and crawled in next to her. "I know the feeling. When I first came back one of the only things that made the nightmares go away was having someone in bed with me."
Bellamy seemed unfazed by the reference to the string of women who had gone through the house in the spring, but Clarke felt her cheeks get even hotter. She was surprised when she felt a twinge of jealousy in her gut.
He laid on his side facing her and they simply looked at each other for a long moment.
"Do you ever think about how it was before?"
Bellamy's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Us. How we use to fight all the time."
He chuckled. "How you hated me?"
"I didn't hate you."
"Right."
"I didn't. You were a pain in my ass, yes, but I didn't hate you."
Bellamy flashed her a dazzling smile before flipping onto his back. Then, to her surprise, Clarke felt a long, strong arm wrap around her middle and pull her forward. Laying her head on his shoulder, Clarke stretched one arm across his torso and pressed herself against his side. It should have been awkward. She was flush against his naked chest, her bare leg lying almost on top of his, her cheek against his skin, her fingers on his abs. Somehow, though, it wasn't. It just felt natural.
Bellamy tangled his fingers in her hair and turned his head so his lips brushed against her forehead. "Are you sure you're okay, Clarke?" His voice was quiet, all sweetness and concern. Clarke took a shuddering breath, unsure if it was his breath on her skin or her memories of the crazed patient that made it hard to breathe.
"I can still feel his hands on my throat. When I close my eyes it's like I can't breath. It really wasn't that serious of an attack, I swear, but it just freaked me out. The nurse just kept screaming and screaming. His eyes were so wild and confused and his fingers were so tight…"
Bellamy's large hand rested on top of hers where it lay on his stomach. Clarke closed her eyes and breathed him in, letting her fingers snake in between his. "Thanks. For letting me sleep in here."
"Anytime, Princess."
Clarke drifted off to sleep feeling much safer curled into Bellamy's warm side.
The next morning she woke before Bellamy. After watching his peaceful, sleeping form for a few minutes, Clarke slipped away. For the first time in three years she spent the morning sketching.
Despite her best attempts, Clarke was unable to get enough time off to go back to DC for Thanksgiving. Wells was still recovering and had already been hooked into a fancy diner with some of his father's donors so he was unable to come to Chicago. The week after she reached the unfortunate conclusion she would not be spending Thanksgiving with Wells for the first time in her life, Clarke sulked everywhere.
"Oh come on, Clarke," Octavia snapped one morning. "You can still have a fun Thanksgiving here. We'll have everyone over, at least everyone that doesn't go see family."
"By that she means Murphy so maybe your frown isn't unwarranted, Princess."
"Shut up, Bellamy. Lincoln, Harper and Sterling are coming too. Look, Clarke, I know it sucks that you can't go home, but you need to snap out of this."
"But this is the first time-"
"I know you have told me a million times."
Clarke tried her best to come up with a protest, but she couldn't. "Fine," she sighed, ignoring Bellamy's smirk.
"Good. Now that that's addressed lets get down to business."
Bellamy groaned as he came over to sit at the kitchen table with the women. "Stop over planning this, O."
"I let you over plan the Fourth, you can let me over plan this, old man."
Clarke couldn't help but laugh at the indignation on Bellamy's face. An hour later Octavia had finished explaining her extensive plans for the holiday. Apparently Octavia liked to ensure everything even remotely stereotypical was done on Thanksgiving. From football to gingerbread houses the whole day was planned out.
A few days before Thanksgiving Octavia sent Bellamy and Clarke on a mission to the grocery store to stock up for the big day.
"I just don't see why I need to go, Octavia," Clarke complained as the brunette pushed her out the door. "This is my first day off in forever I just want to sleep."
"I don't trust that jackass to go by himself. Last time he brought home the smallest turkey imaginable and an apple pie."
Bellamy groaned from where he stood on the porch. "I was sick of pumpkin pie, O. You made us eat it as soon as November rolled around. And believe me, I learned my lesson last time."
"You bet your ass you did."
"But-"
Octavia stopped Clarke's protestations by clamping a hand over her mouth. "Just go, Clarke. "I'm going to be working too! I need to clean the house and get the decorations out and-"
"Okay, okay I get it," Clarke interrupted with a huff. "But I am taking a nap when I get back and neither of you are going to stop me."
Bellamy and Clarke were half way to the grocery store when they stopped at a red light. Clarke drew lazy designs on the fogged windows halfheartedly listening to the political discussion Bellamy had switched the radio to. Of course he would love NPR, Clarke thought to herself with a small smirk.
"Something is up with Octavia."
Clarke turned to the driver's side. Bellamy was determinedly watching the traffic light but the white of his knuckles on the steering wheel revealed his agitation.
"What do you mean?"
"She has never been this into Thanksgiving. It's always been her favorite holiday, but usually we just have a nice dinner and watch the parade, maybe play charades or make a gingerbread house after. She is trying to fit every possible tradition in it this year though."
The light turned and Bellamy accelerated forward.
"Maybe she just wants to do more this year, Bellamy. That doesn't necessarily mean something is wrong."
He shook his head. "No, I know O. Something's up."
Clarke turned away from him and watched the road ahead. "Whatever it is, if it is anything, I'm sure it's not a big deal."
"She hasn't told you anything?"
"No. What would she have told me?"
"I don't know. I just thought maybe she would confide in you."
Clarke reached over and put a hand on his knee without thinking. "Bellamy, I'm sure everything is fine. She is probably just stressed with juggling work and school."
He nodded but seemed unconvinced. By the time they pulled into a parking spot, however, he had snapped out of his mood and threw Clarke an easy smile as she grabbed a cart.
"Alright, Chef Blake, what do we need?"
Four days later Clarke was standing in the sweltering kitchen as Bellamy barked out orders on just how she should be dicing the sweet potatoes. She rolled her eyes as he grabbed the knife from her and began cutting the potatoes himself.
"You know when you asked for help I kind of assumed that you actually wanted it," Clarke retorted as she wiped her hands on her apron. It as yellow and frilly with the name 'Aurora' delicately embroidered across the chest.
"When I asked for help I assumed you would be helpful."
Clarke huffed and leaned against the counter. "Don't be an ass. Its Thanksgiving."
He threw her a look and Clarke narrowed her eyes before crossing the kitchen and grabbing a beer from the fridge.
"So since I apparently can't handle the sweet potatoes, turkey, stuffing, or green beans, what is it that I am allowed to help you with?"
Bellamy gazed around the messy kitchen. Food and dishes were strewn across every inch of counter space. The man himself was a mess. Flour was in his hair and there was a smudge of gravy on his cheek. Finally his eyes settled on the piecrusts. "You can do the pumpkin pie."
"Oh come on, that isn't even cooking. That's just dumping the pie filling into the crust and sticking it in the oven."
"Exactly."
Clarke huffed again but dutifully got to work on the pie. Bellamy had been on edge all morning. Clarke assumed it was due to the stress of cooking the meal for everyone and his concern that Octavia was hiding something. In order to break the tension in the room Clarke tried to make idle conversation.
"So have you always cooked Thanksgiving dinner?"
"Yeah, I use to help Mom when O was little and then as I got older I just ended up cooking dinner most nights. I've always liked cooking, it gave me time alone with my mom and still relaxes me."
"Really?" Clarke scoffed, unable to contain herself. "You don't seem to relaxed right now." Bellamy turned just to make sure Clarke could see him roll his eyes at her.
"Believe it or not I am enjoying myself, Princess. I thrive in chaos." Clarke had no doubt he did. His time in the army and now the police force were clear indications of how well he did under pressure.
"Octavia doesn't like to cook?"
"She doesn't have the patience for it."
Clarke hummed in agreement as she place the pie in the oven. Her experiences baking with Octavia had been quite certainly demonstrated the girl's lack of patience. As if on cue, the younger Blake bounced into the kitchen.
"Clarke! Harper is setting up the gingerbread house, come help us! You've missed almost all the parade already!"
"She's been helping me in the kitchen, unlike some of the freeloaders in the house."
Octavia stuck out her tongue at her older brother. Clarke couldn't help but smile at Octavia's antics. Her giddiness over the holiday made her seem years younger.
"You need any more help, Bellamy?"
"Nah, go have fun with the three year old. I'm good."
"Shut up, old man," Octavia groaned as she dragged Clarke into the dining room. A miserable looking Murphy was watching Harper set up the gingerbread house kit. Lincoln was sitting with Bellamy's new partner, Sterling, watching the parade.
They quickly got down to business decorating the cookie house while Murphy dryly commented on their work. As the three women began to stick gumdrops on the roof, Harper turned to Octavia.
"So, Octavia, how are things with Lincoln?"
Murphy let out a pitiful groan and got up. "There is no way in hell I am sitting through this crap." Harper watched him leave with a satisfied smile on her face.
"Nice one, Harper," Octavia laughed.
Clarke, however, used the opportunity to see if Bellamy's concerns had any merit. "But in all seriousness, Octavia, how are things?"
The girl stared pointedly at the tube of frosting she was squeezing. "What do you mean? Things are great." The force with which the frosting burst from the tube contradicted her statement. Harper gazed over curiously as Clarke pushed forward.
"I don't know, you have just seemed a little distracted lately, that's all."
Octavia rolled her eyes. "Bell put you up to this didn't he, Clarke? He never asks for help in the kitchen I should have known-"
"No, he didn't put me up to this. I'm just asking as your friend who loves you and wants to make sure everything in your life is okay."
The brunette sighed in frustration but still didn't meet her eyes. "Yeah everything is great, okay?"
Harper cleared her throat and an awkward silence settled over the table. A moment later Octavia dropped the frosting with defeat and gazed around to make sure the guys were distracted. "Fine," she said resignedly.
Clarke raised her eyebrows in question as Harper asked Octavia what she meant.
"You have to swear not to tell anyone, both of you," Octavia's eyes were intense as the flitted between Clarke and Harper. Both blondes nodded solemnly as worry settled in Clarke's stomach.
"Octavia what is it? Is something wrong?" Harper asked softly.
"No, in fact its actually good news in my opinion but I know some won't take it that way." Clarke didn't miss the way Octavia's eyes darted towards the kitchen.
"You- You aren't pregnant are you?" Clarke asked hesitantly. The question earned her a laugh from Octavia.
"Oh hell no. It's really not that big of a deal. I mean it is but-"
"Just spit it out already," Harper whined.
"Fine, fine. Lincoln asked me… to move in… with him a couple weeks ago and I said yes."
"What?" Clarke couldn't say she was surprised. Octavia and Lincoln were obviously getting pretty serious but the sudden thought of living alone in the house with Bellamy was unsettling to her. She was finding it harder and harder to ignore her obvious attraction to him, but at the same time Clarke still felt like she wasn't ready to start any kind of relationship yet. Besides, she didn't want to risk losing Bellamy's hard earned friendship. Not having Octavia in the house as a buffer would only make things more difficult.
"I have been a little on edge because I know Bell isn't going to take it well. We decided to tell everyone today, but I'm just worried about how my brother is going to react. He has always been really protective of me, just because of how we grew up and all. I just don't want it to make him angry with Lincoln. They are the two most important men in my life and I don't want them fighting."
"I'm sure he will understand, Octavia," Harper said reassuringly.
"Its not just that though. He still treats me like a little kid but I'm not anymore. I want to be independent, I want him to understand I am my own person now, but I don't want to argue with him, you know?"
Clarke couldn't help but understand where Bellamy's likely hesitation would come from. Octavia had only turned 21 a few months earlier. Lincoln was the same age as Bellamy. Moving in wasn't a huge step in a relationship, like an engagement or marriage, but it was big. Instead of voicing her thoughts, however, Clarke nodded and grabbed Octavia's hand. "So you did everything you could to make sure today was perfect in order to offset his anger?"
"He hates ruining holidays with fights so I figured this was the safest bet. Especially since I went out of my way to make it a good day."
Clarke sighed, looking towards the kitchen.
"Well," Harper said, "tonight should be interesting." They all laughed, more to release nerves than anything. "I'm sure it will be fine, Octavia. Bellamy loves you and just wants you to be happy."
"I agree," Clarke added. "Yes he will be pissy at first, but I'm sure he will be supportive in the end. Any anger he may have will be rooted in worry, just keep that in mind."
Octavia nodded, silently signaling the end of the conversation.
Before long dinner was served. It was impossible to not be amused by how proud Bellamy was of his work, despite the mocking jokes from Murphy and Sterling who had taken to calling him 'dad' for the day. The meal was mostly silent as everyone inhaled their food but was occasionally broken by a joke here and there.
After the dishes had been cleared Octavia announced that they would play football before desert. Ignoring the chorus of protests and cries for pie, the resolute young woman forced everyone out of the house and towards the local elementary school's field.
"Alright losers, this is how its going to go," Octavia proclaimed after shushing everyone. "Boys against girls, tackle football. I'm captain of the ladies, you assholes can figure out your own shit." They quickly solved the issue of uneven numbers when Murphy made a joke about women playing sports and earned a bloody nose from Octavia who then added, "And Murphy will be the ref."
The game was brutal. Each side took no mercy with their tackles and runs. After an hour the score was tied and both teams were panting and sweaty despite the cold November air.
"Alright," Octavia huffed, "next team to get a touch down wins. I want pie."
A chorus of voices agreed with her statement as they all arranged themselves on the field. Murphy gazed up disinterestedly as he picked at the brown, dead grass of the field.
Octavia snapped the ball back to Clarke who took off running. She managed to avoid both Sterling and Lincoln but as she neared the makeshift end zone a strong arm wrapped around her waist.
"Bellamy, get off!"
"That defeats the purpose of the game, Princess," he grunted in response as she managed to drag him a few inches forward with her. With a strong tug Bellamy hauled Clarke to the ground, the football bouncing away.
With a flash of anger Clarke turned to straddle Bellamy. "You fucking idiot! Do you want pie or not?"
Bellamy didn't reply. His eyes were wide as he stared up at her and filled with something Clarke couldn't name. It was only then that she realized her position and blushed. After hitting him on the chest, Clarke rolled off and retrieved the ball.
To everyone's surprise, and relief, Harper managed to secure the winning touchdown.
"Hey so let's never do that again, Octavia," Harper said on the walk home.
"Or at least let us eat out pie first," Murphy grunted.
Clarke paused to stretch out her ankle. At some point in the game she must have twisted it funny.
"You okay, Princess?" Bellamy had turned to see what was holding her up.
"My ankle feels weird. I think I twisted it or something."
His eyebrows knit together in concern.
"You assholes coming or what?" Octavia called back at them.
"Yeah, be there in a minute, O. You good to walk?"
"I think so," Clarke said moving forward. She tried to hide a wince but Bellamy knew her too well. He crouched down with his back to her.
"Hop on, Princess. You aren't holding any of us back from dessert just because you don't know how to play football properly."
"Well maybe if some people didn't take the tackle rule so seriously…"
Bellamy scoffed as Clarke climbed onto his back. He stood, locking his arms under her thighs as she gripped his shoulders and chest. "Oh, please. Don't even pretend like you weren't the most bloodthirsty person on that field."
"Shut up and take me to my pie."
"Yes, your royal highness."
After everyone piled back into the house, Harper and Clarke went to the kitchen to fetch the pies.
"You think she is going to announce it now?"
Clarke didn't have to ask what Harper was referring to. "Yeah, I suppose this has to be it. Everyone is going home after."
The other woman nodded. "Well, here is to hoping it all goes smoothly," she said as he handed Clarke a beer.
"Amen."
Everyone was already gathered at the table when they left the kitchen with dessert. If Octavia and Lincoln's apprehensive glances were any indication, Harper and Clarke were right about Octavia's timing.
Sure enough, just as everyone was finishing up their second helping of pie, Octavia cleared her throat. "There is something that Lincoln and I would like to share."
Clarke's eyes immediately found Bellamy who sat next to her. He was watching his sister, worry written across his face. She knew this was the moment that he had been dreading; that deep down he had known something would happen today. Clarke slid her hand into his under the table, her throat getting a little thick as he gripped her fingers nervously.
"You are all some of our closest friends," Octavia began, ignoring Murphy's scoff. "So it only seemed right that you be the first to know." She paused to give Lincoln a warm smiled which he reciprocated. "Lincoln and I are engaged and are moving in together after Christmas."
Clarke was shocked. Octavia had said nothing about her engagement to her or Harper. Her surprise quickly vanished, however, as Bellamy's grip on her hand tightened like a vice. With a deep breath, Clarke prepared herself for the storm that was sure to follow.
A/N: I hope all the fluff made up for the wait!
Don't get too comfortable though, the soap opera that is this story will resume soon, and by that I mean drama and angst galore. But, as a little teaser to make up for making y'all wait for so long, next chapter involves something that is totally not an accident the second time around (hint hint).
Also Raven will come back in, I promise she has not been forgotten.