CHAPTER 5

~Clarke~

When Clarke arrived at the Blake Ranch the next day, the house was in an uproar.

"... AND IF I EVER SEE YOU TOUCHING MY SISTER AGAIN-"

"DO NOT TALK TO HIM LIKE THAT BELL. I HAVE TO LIVE MY OWN LIFE. I'M NOT NINE ANYMORE."

Octavia was practically screaming as Clarke walked into the kitchen, prepared for her weekly bandaging of Octavia, not for a Blake screaming match. Ironically, Lincoln, the source of all the discomfort, was sitting quietly at one of the chairs in the dining area (there was still no table after Bellamy's lumberjack spree) observing the scene quietly and patiently. Clarke marveled at his self-control.

She, on the other hand, was not blessed with that kind of patience.

"Bellamy," Clarke interjected, making her presence known in the room. "You need to get it together. Octavia is right; she is old enough to make her own decisions."

Bellamy turned towards her, his face furious. "Stay out of this, Princess."

Clarke had the feeling that Bellamy probably intimidated a lot of people. But Clarke was a force to be reckoned with in her own right and there was no way that Bellamy was going to be able to get her to back down on what she thought was right. Bellamy was being downright oppressive towards Octavia and as a fellow woman, Clarke thought it was disgusting.

"Look Bellamy. You're not letting Octavia breathe. Do you want her to be happy?"

Bellamy had been about to retaliate but the last sentence stopped him. He clenched his jaw and then answered.

"Yeah."

"Do you think that Octavia is going to be happy trapped in your house her entire life, living by your rules, just because that's your plan for her? Because that will break her more than any heartbreak ever will. And you and I both know she would leave before she would let you break her."

Bellamy's face fell instantly and a shadow was cast over his eyes. He looked downward.

"I hadn't really thought of it like that."

"Bell. That's what I've been trying to say for what feels like centuries!" Octavia exclaimed, walking towards him and putting her hand on his shoulder. "I love you big brother. But you gotta let me breathe. What happened to mom isn't going to happen to me. I was there. I saw what happened too. You have to believe that I'm strong enough," Octavia said gently.

"You are strong, O. You are the strongest person I know," said Bellamy.

"Then why won't you let me be strong? Let me make my own decisions and prove you right? You've been my mom and my dad for so long, Bell. Maybe it's time you go back to being my brother."

The moment was touching and left Clarke feeling uncomfortable to watch. Clearly, the Blake siblings had walked a long, hard journey to get to where they were now. She felt like a stranger looking in.

Lincoln interrupted her thoughts.

"Bellamy. I know that we didn't start this out right by sneaking around your house and I want to make it up to you," Lincoln said, standing to look Bellamy straight in the eye. "I have nothing but respectful intentions towards Octavia and I will never do anything to intentionally hurt or harm her."

Bellamy looked back at Lincoln before nodding his assent.

Meanwhile, Clarke was barely able to contain how uncomfortable she was. Was the Blake Ranch always this intense?

As if sensing her embarrassment, Octavia turned to her and grinned.

"Clarke! You're right on time! After you re-bandage me, you can go with Bell to buy a new table," Octavia paused and glared at Bellamy, "while Lincoln and I finally go on our first date." This looked like news to Lincoln and Bellamy but when both men took in the fierce look of determination on Octavia's face, they both sighed in defeat. It was no use arguing with O once her mind was made up. Even Clarke knew that.

Caving to Octavia's will, Clarke found herself riding shotgun in Bellamy's large black truck driving towards Octavia's favorite antique shop in Austin. Only someone like Octavia would have people like Bellamy, Lincoln and Clarke wrapped around her little finger.

They rode in comfortable silence as the Texan scenery, painted in the colors of the sunset, passed in a whir around then. It was strange for Clarke to be doing something so average- so domestic?- with Bellamy as riding in his truck with him looking for a table. Her life had changed so much in the past three weeks since she had met the Blakes.

And, Clarke, slowly starting to admit to herself, was okay with that.

She glanced over at Bellamy, who had just taken his eyes off the road to glance over at her, his eyes catching hers. They were as dark and mysterious as usual, but the freckles offset the seriousness, giving him that boyish charm that made him more real and less of an enigma. And his eyes recently had seemed less intimidating and more warm, comforting even.

But even in that brief moment before he drew his gaze back towards the road, his eyes still held a hidden danger in their depths, something fierce that made Clarke shiver.

In a good way.

"Thanks, princess," Bellamy said, his soft, gravelly voice breaking the silence gently.

"For what?"

"For holding me back from punching Lincoln in the face," Bellamy said bluntly and simply, as was his way. Clarke was incredibly surprised that he was thanking her for such a thing. The older Blake seemed to be the kind of person who might pride himself in standing up for his sister, even if it was in a dominating, disrespectful way.

Bellamy noticed her surprise. "Hey, I know that I can be a little too much sometimes."

"A little?" Clarke smirked.

"Enough with the sass" Bellamy countered quickly and Clarke couldn't help but laugh.

It was already dark when they turned into the antique store and Bellamy noted with gratitude that the store was still open. As Clarke got out of the truck, she was once again struck at how natural it was to hang around Bellamy. He could be a stubborn ass sometimes but once his walls were lowered, he wasn't too bad.

As they walked into the shop, Clarke was surprised by the amount of things could be stuffed into one store. There were vinyls, lights, wedding dresses, baby clothes, furniture of all kinds, books and toys. Before Clarke could stop him, Bellamy went straight passed the tables towards the books.

"Uh Bellamy," Clarke said following him as he browsed through the historical nonfiction books, his eyes scanning the titles and his arms already full of books, "Julius Caesar: The Life and Times of the People's Dictator, is not, I will remind you, what we are looking for."

"Did you know that Octavia was named after Augustus' sister?" Bellamy said as if she hadn't said anything, his eyes still roving over the titles. "I named her," he said, turning toward her with those intense eyes of his, studying to see her reaction to this random share of intimate information. Clarke wondered, as her heart fluttered, if there would be a point where those eyes would not physically affect her.

"Why did you name her that?"

"Octavia the Younger was always known for her devout loyalty and her prominence in a time where men ruled," Bellamy replied, his gaze returning to the bookshelves. "I wanted that for Octavia. Although," he added, pausing, "She's much more of an Amazonian woman than any virtuous Roman wife. Octavia is pretty fierce," he said, the pride evident in his voice.

Clarke liked this side of Bellamy, the one who was gazing at books lovingly and talking about his sister with complete adoration. It was surprising in comparison to the tough exterior he always seemed to put up when she first met him. His fascination with learning made her curious about the Roman Empire, a subject that had never peaked her interest in school, if she were being honest.

As Bellamy became distracted by a copy of The Roman Empire and Its Germanic Peoples, she allowed herself to browse the shelves, until she found the art section. Although, like in most used book stores, there weren't many art books, she felt her inner artist smile with glee as she picked up various titles on the use of color and sketching techniques. It was always so interesting to her to look at older art books because, like humanity, art seemed to constantly change yet the heart of it always stayed the same.

"I didn't realize you were interested in art," Bellamy said, his attention now full on her, his arms laden with books.

Clarke blushed under his gaze before turning back to the books at hand, "I actually wanted to be an artist at some point," she said, her eyes glued to the bookshelf. She felt his warm presence as Bellamy stepped closer to look over her shoulder right as she found a title they could both find interesting: Classic Art: From Greece to Rome.

She turned to him to show him only to find him even closer than she had imagined, his head bent low enough that their noses brushed as she turned and Clarke's heartbeat went from a quickened pace to a gallop, her light eyes locked onto his dark ones. She backed up until she was sandwiched between the bookcase and Bellamy who had seemingly subconsciously moved forward to match her step back.

This close, Clarke couldn't help but look at his lips and notice a slight scar right about them. They looked surprisingly soft for someone who sometimes seemed a little too tough at times. When she realized what she was doing, Clarke immediately looked up into Bellamy's again.

Mistake.

Eyes that were always intense seemed to swallow her whole and she knew that he had noticed her looking at his lips. He took a step closer and Clarke's breath caught in her throat with excitement.

"Oops I did it again to YOUR HEARRTTT got lost… IN THIS THING OH BABY"

Brittany Spears' voice erupted from Bellamy's pocket and he stepped back and quickly pulled out his cell phone.

"O. Seriously. You need to stop changing my ringtone." Was it just Clarke or did Bellamy's voice sound a little… breathless?

Clarke couldn't hear the other girl's response but when she Bellamy's face blanche, she assumed it was about the table they hadn't even tried to look for yet.

"Uh yeah O. Who do you think I am? We are looking at a pretty decent looking chestnut one right now…" Bellamy looked over at Clarke and grinned sheepishly at his lie.

Bellamy ended his conversation with his sister and they finally walked over to the table section of the store. Thankfully, finding a sturdy chestnut table that could fit the entirety of Bellamy's clan of ranch hands wasn't too hard to find. Before long, it was plopped into the bed of Bellamy's truck and they were heading back.

After a seemingly quick ride that fluctuated in teasing conversations (hey it was better than arguing) or comfortable silence, they arrived back at the ranch. As Clarke stepped out of the truck, she couldn't help but gaze up at the stars. As much as she missed New York City sometimes, it could never compete with a beautiful night like this. And for the first time in a long time, her heart didn't have that painful squeeze it usually did whenever she thought about that city and what she had left behind there when she returned to Texas.

As Clarke walked into the kitchen (Bellamy had run off for extra help carrying the table out of the truck), she was greeted with a pleasant aroma that immediately reminded her tummy of how hungry she was.

Lincoln was at the counter, rolling out dough while Octavia sat at the bar on a stool watching him with a smile on her face.

"Octavia," Clarke said, instantly in healer mode, "you really should sit in a chair with a back on it; you don't want to fall and hurt your ribs again."

Octavia turned to her and rolled her eyes, "you're almost as bad as Bellamy. Let me live."

Clarke sighed and next to her, knowing, even from just three weeks, that you had to choose your battles when it came to the Blakes.

"So, what are ya'll cooking?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Chicken pot pie," Lincoln grinned as he began taking the dough and placing it around the sides of a casserole dish.

"Really?" Clarke moaned, "I am so jealous!"

As she said this, Bellamy came in carrying the table with Anya and another girl with long dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes. She was very pretty.

"Well then," Anya said as she set down the table like it weighed nothing-Clarke knew otherwise. "Why don't you stay and help us eat it?"

"There's definitely enough for a small country here," Lincoln said as he placed the fifth large pie into the oven. Clarke had to give it to him, the man definitely knew how to work fast.

"Well, I don't want to impose…" Clarke said it but she didn't really mean it. There was no way she would be able to say no to homemade chicken pot pie, not when frozen meals were waiting for her at home. And after such an exhausting shift at the hospital last night, a full belly was the best way to start her next 12 hours off.

"Oh whatever, Clarke," Bellamy smirked at her, "you're basically drooling."

"I am not!"

"Leave the girl alone, Bell," said the other girl, playfully jabbing Bellamy in the ribs with her elbow. "If I recall, you are definitely not one to say no to homemade food, even when no one is offering," she teased.

"Oh wait! Are you talking about that time Bellamy stole a cherry pie from y'all's professor?" Octavia laughed.

"Wait, what!" Clarke turned accusingly to Bellamy.

"No, no! They're talking out of context. It's not as bad as it sounds," Bellamy proclaimed, looking a bit flustered.

"Not what it seems?" the girl laughed, "you literally took it off of her desk and ate the whole thing before she could even speak!"

"Why else would anyone bring a pie to class if they weren't going to share it?!"

"It was for her daughter's birthday after class!"

"How was I supposed to know that?!" Bellamy's freckled cheeks by this point had turned cherry red.

"You certainly could have asked before plopping the whole thing in your mouth. I would have been surprised if I hadn't already been educated on how talented you are with that part of your anatomy beforehand," at this the girl winked at Bellamy.

"Harper! Keep your SICK details about my brother to yourself!" Octavia complained with a pained expression on her face.

So this is Harper, Clarke thought, her stomach clenching uncomfortably. This is the girl that Bell used to sleep with. It shouldn't have bothered her. But it did. When she braved a glance at Bellamy, he was already staring at her, as if trying to gauge her reaction.

"I need a drink," Clarke said thoughtlessly, immediately wishing the vulnerability of her words wasn't so apparent. Thankfully, Octavia jumped in.

"Now THAT'S a girl with a plan. Anyone up for trying out my Cards Against Humanity drinking game?"

Clarke was immediately interested.

"What are the rules?" asked Anya as she sat next to Clarke at the counter.

"Take a shot everytime someone doesn't pick your card!" Octavia said with evil glee.

"O, we would all die. Trust me I'm a doctor," Clarke said.

Lincoln grinned at Clarke before he pulled out the chicken pot pies from the oven, "Let me guess, you've been waiting years to be able to say that."

Clarke blushed, "Maybe."

"Okay, fine I concede." Octavia put her hands in the air in defeat, "maybe we could change the rules up a bit."

Before Octavia could continue, dinner was served, piping hot from the oven. Clarke never really got many homemade dinners even when she was a child; her mother and father had both been very busy. Clarke certainly complain about the delicious take out that she got experience as a child, but a nice chicken pot pie was rarely on the menu. Luckily, Lincoln turned out to be quite the cook. If Octavia hadn't already claimed the man, Clarke could have easily fallen in love with him based solely on his cooking skills.

After dinner, Anya made a huge plate for Roan who was resting in the guest bedroom upstairs. Apparently, Bellamy felt that it was best for Roan to be at the central house while the ranch hand began to recover from his wounds.

After Anya left, they began a wonderful/terrible game of Cards Against Humanity that involved taking shots every four times that your card wasn't picked.

"HOW COULD YOU NOT CHOOSE ANNE FRANK?! IT'S ANNE FRANK!" Slurred Clarke an hour into the game. It was tough playing a game so based on your working knowledge of the players when she didn't really have a working knowledge of the players. The only breaks she got between shots were when she was choosing cards for Octavia or Bellamy and sometimes Lincoln. Bellamy more so than the others but she wasn't drunk enough to admit that even to herself.

Octavia shook her head furiously, "Clearly, the cocaine card was the correct option. Woahhh I'm dizzy," she said and stopped shaking her head. Thankfully, Clarke was certainly not the only one completely intoxicated.

"I'm leaving!" Harper said a few minutes later when her "chugging a lava lamp" card wasn't chosen for Bellamy's "What is my secret power?" card. She threw the cards down as she got up.

Bellamy looked over at Lincoln and Octavia who were probably a bit too close for Big Brother and said, "Fine. Be a sore loser. But take him," he pointed at Lincoln, "with you." Lincoln immediately stood up, clearly not wanting to push his luck, and followed Harper out the door.

Annoyed, Octavia harrumphed and then stomped her way up the stairs without a backwards glance.

Leaving Clarke and Bellamy to clean up the chaos of cards left behind.

As they began collecting the cards, it suddenly dawned on Clarke two glaring mistakes: one, there was no way in HELL she could drive anywhere; two, she knew, from Octavia's tour of the ranch house last week, that there was only one guest room because, as Octavia had complained, the other one had become Bellamy's game room (at the time Clarke hadn't thought it would be a good idea to point out that the third guest room was currently O's theatre room), and three, that left Clarke with nowhere left to sleep. Especially because she was fairly certain that Lincoln would be making a return trip when Bellamy was not looking; Clarke highly doubted that Octavia would be sleeping alone tonight.

As if reading her thoughts, Bellamy looked at her before putting the card box away on a shelf in the pantry. "So. Looks like you'll be sleeping in my room tonight," he said nonchalantly.

Clarke felt her face flush in indignation and embarrassment. The nerve! "I uh no I mean…" she stuttered before closing her mouth completely, cursing the alcohol that was making her sound like moron.

"Relax, Princess," he said, his grin doing funny things to her lower regions, "I know you're excited to get in my bed but I have a strict rule about sleeping with drunken women. And that rule is: never. I'll be sleeping on the couch… this time."

He was teasing her and it was annoying but she was grateful that he knew innately what she was concerned about. Although admittedly, her drunken self was not pleased with his gentlemanly answer.

"I'm not going to kick you out of your bed," Clarke said, pouting.

Bellamy paused (Is he staring at my mouth?) before responding, "You're my guest. It's my house. My rules."

He turned and Clarke had no choice but to follow him up the stairs until he stopped and opened a door to let her in.

"If you wake up feeling like you need a shower," Bellamy said, leaning against the door frame in the dark. "There is one in there and extra towels under the sink."

"Thank you," Clarke said looking up at his eyes in the dark, her face only a few inches away from his. The electricity that was always a gentle murmur whenever they were together began to buzz between them, making her feel even headier than the 6 shots of tequila had earlier.

"Anytime," Bellamy whispered back, his eyes never leaving her face. Without warning, he reached his hand and stroked her face before just as quickly pulling his hand away and stepping back.

"We can't have royalty sleeping on the couch now can we?" he said, his smirk back in place, the intimate moment between them immediately dissolved.

And then, without so much as a goodnight, he was gone.

Notes: Okay, is my English major showing? I didn't even mean to spend that much time on books but there it is... hope you liked it! Sorry for the late update. I promise that I'll be better next time! I should be updating again in about a week and a half. Let me know what you think!