Archive of Our Own

Bellamy liked university more than he expected. He liked going to class, he liked finding new places around campus to hang out or study in, he liked the new friends he had made, and he really, really liked the laundry room.

Everyone in the dorm generally took their laundry home with them on the weekends, or put in a load and came back for it later. It was a joyously empty place most of the time. For him anyway. He was always there, so it was never empty for anyone else.

There could be nothing bad said about the laundry room; it was clean, quiet, had good lighting, and there was a lovely beaten up old couch in the corner that Bellamy did a number of sleep deprived, but decent assignments on. (He sometimes complained that there could have been more machines put in its place, but one could simply not have it all.) No one else ever hung out there, and Bellamy, about a month into the school year with that fact still holding true, had come to think of it as somehow his.

(That would turn out to be devastatingly incorrect, but that’ll come soon enough.)

***

“Miller. Please. I can still hear the porn through your headphones.”

Miller continued to stare open mouthed at his computer, as he had been for the past hour.

Bellamy, a notion of violence over taking him, launched a pillow at his roommate. The impromptu weapon hit Miller in the head, but if anything, it only made him increase the volume more. Bellamy scowled, realizing he was out of options, and stalked out of the room and straight across the hall.

“Miller’s watching porn again,” he whined, flopping down onto Raven and Anya’s futon.

The two occupants barely looked up from their laptops. They each had an essay due in thirty nine minutes, which was coincidentally how long ago they had started it.

“Can’t you just be a normal boy and go appreciate some porn with your roommate?”

He knew he didn’t need to look up for her to know the face he was making.

Anya closed her laptop, and slid her body next to Bellamy’s, lifting his head into her lap. “Did you not put anything about this in your roommate agreement?”

“I can’t say he’s not allowed to watch porn, Anya.” His voice was frustrated, but he couldn’t help but lean eagerly into the fingers she pushed through his hair.

“You don’t have to specify that it’s porn, Bellamy. You can just say that it’s hard to concentrate while he blasts videos through his earphones.”

“It was Call Me By Your Name, thank you very much, and he has just as much access to headphones as I do.” Miller promptly sat down on top of Bellamy, causing the latter to wheeze inadvertently.

Bellamy, struggling to breathe, rasped, “You’re a dick,” and shoved Miller onto the floor.

“Takes one to know one,” he winked, then crawled over to the cupboard in which Anya kept all her snacks.

Raven let out a sudden whoop. “I finished!” She closed her laptop, threw it onto the bed, and then proceeded to dance around the room obnoxiously.

“Woo.” Anya said with two fists in the air, as enthusiastic as a computer program, but that wasn’t exactly abnormal. “Me too!”

“How did you manage to finish in under an hour?” Bellamy asked, sitting up to crack the spot on his back where Miller had sat.

Anya shook her head and stood. “I finished last week, I was just typing to give Raven moral support.”

Miller began pointing rigorously. “See! See!?” Crumbs of Chips Ahoy! spewing from his mouth. “Why can’t you be supportive like that?”

Raven snatched the cookies from Miller’s grasp, stuffing a few into her face. “Girls are just better, Nathanial.”

“As a gay man, I have to disagree.“

Bellamy stood abruptly. “I’m going to go laundry room.” He pointed at Miller. “Don’t follow me.”

“You’re doing laundry again?” More crumbs littered the floor.

“It does get dirty again, eventually, Miller.”

“How does he make my name sound so atypical?” His roommate’s voice carried down the hall.

Raven’s quickly followed. “Maybe ‘cause it is?”

***

Unfortunately, Bellamy visited the laundry room so frequently, that Miller had become suspicious.

“Are you one of those people who only wears their clothes once or something?”

Bellamy crisply folded another button down, and placed it gently in the drawer with the others. “No.”

“Is there a hot girl that you flirt with?”

“No.”

“Do you like, sweat a lot?”

“Only when I’m being forced into playing twenty questions.” He said cheerfully. Now finished with his folding, he began his ironing.

“I can’t believe I got put with the neat freak.”

Bellamy mocked him to the wall, who would have found it funny had it not been a wall.

“Next time, I’m gonna go with you.”

This made him spin right around. “You’re gonna what?”

Miller got up from his bed, waving a finger and narrowing his eyes. “I’m gonna come with you and see what all the fuss is about. What is so great about going to the laundry room?”

“You’re not in it, for starters.”

Miller chuckled and shook his head, as if Bellamy had told a joke or something. “There must be something more, and I’m gonna figure it out.”

Bellamy shook his head, and swung his basket so that it rested on his hip, making him feel like an overworked maiden from the late eighteen hundreds. “Good luck with that.”

And that was the end of it.

***

But then it wasn’t.

Miller was serious about coming with him, and it didn’t seem like he was going to be stopping any time soon.

“Aren’t you at least going to bring your laundry?”

Miller’s brow furrowed. “No? Why would I do that?”

“Oh right, I forgot.” He rolled his eyes. “You only clean your clothes when they start crawling to the machine themselves.”

Miller clapped him on the back as they entered the laundry room. “Exactly!” He threw himself down onto the couch in the corner, wiggling and bouncing to get comfortable.

“Is it everything you imagined?” Bellamy deadpanned as he began filling a machine with his whites, quite angrily actually. That was his spot.

Miller, oblivious to Bellamy’s quiet rage, shrugged. “I still don’t see what’s so special about it.”

“I never actually said there was anything special about it.” He clarified, letting the lid of the washer close on its own, causing a tremendous bang and Miller to nearly put his head through the ceiling.

“Jesus, man.”

Bellamy shrugged innocently. “Sorry.”

Miller shook his head. “Anyway, I am going to figure out the reason you keep coming here, whether you like it or not.”

“More like whether there is one, or not.” Bellamy muttered.

He wasn’t worried, Miller would get bored and leave him alone eventually. He just had to wait it out until then.

***

But Miller had no intention of getting bored. By the time midterms came around, he was following Bellamy every time he did laundry. Bellamy tried sneaking out, but even then, Miller figured out where he was and beat him there. Bellamy thought that maybe after reading week Miller might forget about the whole thing, but as soon as he arrived back on campus, the old routine started right back up again.

“Listen, it’s not that I don’t like him, but I already share a room with him twenty-four hours a day. I need some time to myself, you know?”

Raven raised her eyebrows. “To do what, exactly?”

He knew she meant something dirty, but he kept his face blank and breezed right past it. “Laundry. Haven’t you been listening?”

She rolled her eyes, but allowed her joke to go unnoticed. “Can’t you just tell him that?”

“I’ve tried! He just thinks I’m making excuses to keep him away from the laundry room!”

Anya shook her head. “Bellamy, you’re smart, but you’re really not that bright.”

He was slightly offended, but waited for her to continue. “Just go when Miller isn’t around, or when he’s asleep. This should not be as big a problem in your life as it is.”

Bellamy pouted. “I came for some outside perspective, not judgement.”

She patted his head. “We don’t always get what we wish for.”

He made a face, in which she returned, and he continued to hug a pillow to his chest as they comforted him.

A few moments passed, and Raven cleared her throat. “I know this is a sore subject for you, but, what is so special about the laundry room?”

***

He did as they said, and as soon as Miller fell asleep, Bellamy snuck off to the laundry room. Sometimes it wasn’t until three in the morning, but Bellamy didn’t care; there were principles to think about.

One night, at around one, he was perched on a machine while completing an assignment, and someone else walked into the room.

She was medium height, blonde hair, blue eyes, pretty much gorgeous in every way. She was repping a school hoodie and blue pyjama shorts with daises and Bellamy was so shocked to see someone else there, he couldn’t stop himself from staring.

She obviously wasn’t expecting anyone else either, but she got over her shock much quicker, frowning at his prolonged eye contact. “Can I help you?”

His eyes widened, and he quickly looked away. “No, no. Sorry. I just—it’s normally pretty empty, that’s all.”

She didn’t reply, and he felt a sinking feeling at the thought of having a bad first impression. He wanted to turn things around, but couldn’t think of anything redeeming to say.

The shake of his head was slight—he would probably never see her again, and she wouldn’t remember even seeing him in a few days.

About half an hour passed in silence, which wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but certainly could have been better. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes from glancing over at her, especially when she swung her legs from atop the machine. He almost felt like he should be the one to leave, to be mannerly or something, but he got there first. And he didn’t care how second grade it sounded.

Finally, his dilemma was solved when she hopped down, and began loading her laundry into the basket she had been carrying.

She threw a glance over her shoulder as she left. “Goodnight.”

He automatically replied, “Goodnight,” before he could register it as strange.

***

It wasn’t nearly as much as a shock the next time he saw her, and they had almost the exact same interaction as the first time. They exchanged pleasantry smiles when he entered, and she immediately resumed tapping away at her laptop. He wondered briefly what she was majoring in, and then decided that comfortable silence was probably best.

He went there for solitude, not friendship.

But he couldn’t stop himself from letting his eyes wander over every now and again. She had on black leggings with a hole in the knee, a grey tank top, and he could see a cardigan draped over the machine next to her. Her hair kept falling into her eyes as she typed, and finally, she gave up and swept it up into a messy ponytail.

He had to admit it was a strange coincidence that not only were they both always there in the middle of the night, but also on the same days.

It’s happened twice, at least let it go three times before we go and blame the universe.

He tried to pull himself together. After all, he knew absolutely nothing about her. She could have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend—she could not be into men at all. And who said he was into her? He’d clearly been reading too much fan fiction in order for some part of his brain to believe something was going to happen between them.

He dragged himself over to the couch and laid down, facing away from—shit, he didn’t even know her name. He really was delusional.

He didn’t realize he’d drifted off until he felt a gentle press at his shoulder. It was her, and there was a soft smile on her face.

“Sorry,” he said. “Was I snoring?”

She shook her head, the smile growing. “No. I was just about to leave and didn’t want you to sleep through any classes.”

He felt a gentle but firm thud in his chest, and he suddenly realized how close she was. He cleared his throat and made a move to sit up, causing her to step back. “Yeah, thanks. I have a quiz tomorrow, so that wouldn’t be great.”

“I figured I would want someone to do the same for me, so,” She trailed off, fiddling with a loose string on her sweater. She suddenly straightened, and gave him a smile. “Well, I’m gonna go.”

He nodded, his brain catching up too, and stood. She watched as he raised to his full height, about a head taller than her. He returned her smile. “Goodnight.”

“You, too.” She replied, and darted out of the room.

***

“You’re in a chipper mood,” Miller noted, squinting at the smile on Bellamy’s face.

He let it grow wider. “I did well on my quiz.”

Miller waggled his pen at him. “No, no, no. It’s more than passed a quiz chipper.”

“Why are you always so suspicious when I’m happy?”

“Because it doesn’t happen very often, and it happens even less so around me.”

He supposed he had a point. “I’m just in a good mood. But if you keep questioning it, it will go away very quickly.”

He held up in hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine, I’m happy if you are.”

“Good.” Bellamy stabbed a potato and stuffed it into his mouth.

“So I noticed you haven’t been doing laundry nearly as often. What’s up with that?”

He talked around the food filling his mouth. “I decided to take a page out of your book; let it fester a little.”

Miller wasn’t impressed, nor stupid. “You’re doing it while I’m asleep?”

“Sure am.” He got up to clear his plate, throwing yet another chipper smile at Miller before leaving.

***

The third time they met, they managed to actually hold a conversation, and Bellamy somehow avoided swallowing his tongue. He was there first this time, writing out cue cards for his Roman Civilization exam, when she walked in, and started loading the machine right next to him.

He was suddenly thrust into new territory. Before they had been mannerly strangers neighborhood, and now she had plunged them directly into friendly acquaintance district. When she had finished, she straightened and smiled directly at him, which had the same effect on Bellamy as if he had downed a few shots of whiskey.

“Hey,” he managed.

“Hi,” she said, unfairly not turning down the smile in the slightest. “I need advice.”

His eyebrows must have disappeared into his hairline. “And you want it from me?” He was almost too shocked to notice how sweaty his palms had gotten.

“Yes.” She jumped up onto the machine, her thigh mere inches from his. “I need an unbiased third party to help me run my life.”

“Again, you want that from me.” He was genuinely astonished at the words coming out of her mouth, and the fact that they were being directed at him. She shoved him lightly, and the speed of his pulse multiplied dangerously.

“Just listen. There’s this guy—“ Bellamy’s heart rate immediately stopped, and the sinking feeling returned. “—I need to let him down easy, but I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

It took almost everything in him not to roll his eyes back into his head and keep them there. “You’re so cute.”

She cocked her head, confused. “Excuse me?”

Bellamy slipped off the dryer, and checked the clothes inside it, which were warm. “You think that if you say the right thing, he won’t be mad and you’ll be able to stay friends or whatever.”

Her confusion was not improving. “... Yes?”

He shook his head, straightening. “It doesn’t matter what you say or how you say it, a good guy will understand that he’s not what you need and he’ll respect that you’re doing what’s best for you. A not so good guy won’t.”

A few moments passed, and a “Huh,” slipped from her lips. He was expecting a little bit more of a reaction that that to his incredible insight, but he continued to fiddle with his clothes until she had processed the information.

She slid from her machine as well, a large smile forcing her dimples out of hiding. (They were a lot for him to take in, but he thought he closed his mouth just in time to not be considered gaping.) “I knew you’d have all the answers. Thanks—um—“

“Bellamy,” he supplied.

“Bellamy.”

His name on her lips was like an adrenaline shock, and he had to grip a machine in order to stay upright. The metal was cool under his fingertips, making his next sentence much smoother. “Normally, this is where you’d give me your name too.”

“Right! Right. I’m Clarke.”

He smiled. “Nice to meet you, Clarke.”

“You too, Bellamy.”

***

Bellamy considered the next interaction between him and Clarke to be somewhat of a definitive stepping stone in their—relationship? friendship? He wasn’t sure what it was to begin with, but it was forever changed after that.

It was another late night, and Bellamy hadn’t seen Clarke for a week or so. He hoped the break up had gone well, and he pretended that came mostly from selfless origins. He hadn’t thought to ask for her number, so it wasn’t like he could text and ask.

But he wasn’t left wondering for long, when a slightly intoxicated Clarke walked through the door.

“I knew I’d find you here.” She said, her words just on the verge of being slurred. She had on a low cut black top, which was barely containing her chest, and black jeans. Black heels were dangling from her fingertips, and he was seriously concerned about how long she had been walking with no shoes on.

“One, please tell me you didn’t walk outside in your bare feet, and two, you were looking for me?”

She grinned, stepping closer. “Don’t worry, Bellamy, I only took them off once I was inside.”

She was dangerously close, and the look in her eyes wasn’t comforting. She placed a hand on his chest, and ran it down the length of his torso. Heat flared around his groin area, and he literally had no idea what was going on.

“I broke up with Finn.”

He swallowed. “Sorry to hear that.”

She shook her head with a smile. “No, you’re not.” She slowly started to encircle him, her hand never leaving his body. “You were right, by the way, it didn’t matter how nice I was, he was a dick about it anyway.”

He was having difficulty breathing, her touch was drifting lower and lower, so it was a lot to focus on what she was saying and responding to it. “Good thing you broke up with him, then.”

“Yes. Very.” She agreed, stopping in front of him. She tilted her head to the side, as if trying to decide on her next words. Bellamy was trying to decide if he should faint now or wait until the conversation was over. “Do you want to know what he said?”

He could barely manage a nod.

“He said that he never found me attractive, and that he was always thinking of someone else when we slept together.”

She said it so casually, it took a moment for the words to register. Once they did however, the heat that flashed in his blood wasn’t from arousal. He flexed his fists, trying to keep it under control. She didn’t seem to be too off put by it, and so he figured it might be strange if he was.

“Seems like a lie to me,” he said, coughing slightly to cover up his temper. “As you can probably tell how hot and bothered you’ve got me right now.”

She smirked, and pressed her body up against his, causing him to nearly to keel over. “Now, I really don’t normally do this, but I think I need a slight boost of confidence.”

Gingerly, he placed his hands on her waist, trailing the thin strip of skin where her shirt had ridden up. “And you thought you’d come to me for that? The guy who’s name you learned last week?”

She shrugged. “You’re hot, you regularly do your own laundry, and I assume that since you haven’t pushed me away yet that you’re single.”

His brain was very stuck on the hot thing, but he filed it away, intending to savour it later. “Doing my own laundry is a thing for you?”

“Oh, yeah.” She confirmed, leaning in to press her lips against his. His stomach swooped, and he pulled her tighter against his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

She was a good kisser, just the right amount of teasing and tongue and teeth. Goosebumps spread over his body as she ran her hands down his back, and then under his shirt. They were cool and smooth, soothing the fire that she was lighting under his skin. He lifted her up, placing her on top of the machine next to them. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him tight against the heat between them.

He was trying not to focus too much on the fact that this would be a one time thing, that he was a rebound, and that they might not speak again when it was done. Whatever. One time was better than nothing at all.

“Do you want it here?” He asked, when she broke away from his mouth to kiss down his neck.

“What time is it?” He had to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head at the hot pressure she was pressing against the column of his throat.

“2am? Maybe later. I haven’t been able to pay attention since you got here.”

He felt her smile against his skin. “Having sex is a boost enough, you don’t have to talk, too.”

He tangled his fingers in her hair, gently tugging until she backed up enough for him to mouth at her neck. “I want to. And you still haven’t answered my question.”

She was rolling her hips against his crotch, and the staying upright thing really was becoming a problem. “I honestly don’t think anyone will catch us, but my room is down the hall.”

He let a moment pass, pretending to think about it. “Or there’s a couch right over there.”

“Yeah. Yeah, couch is good.”

He lifted her up, and carried her over to the sofa, which was placed in such a way against a wall that if someone walked in, they wouldn’t be able to see them immediately.

He set her down, peeling off his shirt and then working at the button on her jeans. She had folded her arms behind her head, watching him easily, and he had to duck his head in a smile. He slipped her jeans to just above her knees, and began kissing down her thighs. She tried lifting her hips in order to meet him in the middle, but he anchored them down with a hand splayed across her stomach. He kept her underwear on, mostly to avoid her bare skin touching the couch, and if someone did come in, she’d be able to get dressed quickly.

“Bellamy,” she tried to sound firm, but it came out more of a whine.

“You wanted a boost. I’m admiring.” He sucked gently on the inside of her thigh, causing the bloom of a purple hickey. He sucked a few more onto each thigh, and when she was squirming beneath his touch, he finally settled between her legs.

It was an awkward position. With the length of the couch, and the fact that Clarke’s pants weren’t completely off—the odds were against him. But he was fairly confident in his oral skills, and the noises that Clarke was making were quite encouraging. She tasted sweet, and the way that she was tugging at his hair was causing him to press uncomfortably against his jeans.

He reached up to fondle her breast when he felt her first orgasm coming on, and she fell apart across his tongue. The sounds coming from her were driving him up the wall, but he’d never had so much fun eating a girl out before. He licked into her until the final waves of her orgasm passed, and she was twitching with pleasure.

“Fuck.” She said, her breathing heavy.

He smiled. “Is that an expression or a to do list?”

“Do I have to choose?”

He shook his head as he crawled on top of her, kissing her again. He couldn’t get enough of that—of the shock that sailed through his body when their lips met. He was just unbuttoning his jeans when she put a hand on his chest to gently push him away. His stomach dropped and he immediately scrambled off of her.

“Fuck, you okay? What’s wrong?”

He was only slightly comforted when she laughed, and climbed into his lap. “Relax, I just wanted to be on top.”

She began grinding against him, and he fumbled to find her clit again with his fingers. She was wet and hot and wanting again in moments, and she only kissed him harder when he slipped two fingers inside of her.

He jerked back with realization.

“What’s wrong?”

He swore. “I don’t have a condom.”

She wrinkled her nose. “That’s fine. I’m on the pill.”

She attempted to kiss him again, but he pulled back and out of reach. “But the STDS, Clarke.”

Her eyebrows were somewhere near her hairline. “You have one?”

”No, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“You think I have one—?”

She was seriously offended and he hurried to correct himself.

“No, no, no, not at all.” He stood up with her still wrapped around his waist, and then set her on the floor, rubbing his face. “It’s just—listen, this isn’t going to make me sound great, but I hooked up a lot in high school, and sometimes things got out of hand. I’m careful now.”

He was afraid she would storm off, but her anger faded into a sweet smile, and she patted his cheek. “That’s cute. Let’s go.”

She tugged on his hand, and he grabbed his shirt off the couch before following her. She hiked up her pants as they walked down the hall, but didn’t bother buttoning them.

“I have condoms in my room.”

“You’re really set on my dick being inside you, huh?”

“Very.” She walked faster.

“What about your roommate?”

“Don’t have one.”

He stopped so quickly that Clarke was yanked back due to the grip of their hands. “You don’t have a roommate?”

She tugged until he started walking again. “Nope, she dropped out last minute. Her bed and desk and dresser are all there, but I basically have a single.”

She opened the door, leading him inside. “Lucky you.” He said, his grin shit eating.

She closed the door, and shoved him up against it, smirking. “Lucky us.”

***

He really and truly thought it would be a one time thing. They were both attracted to each other, had sex once, got it out of their systems, and now they would both avoid the laundry room like the plague.

Except Bellamy wasn’t planning on doing that at all. He wasn’t going to abandon his favourite spot on campus because of some sexual tension, and if she felt weird she would just have to deal with that.

He was also secretly hoping to run into her, maybe do a repeat of last time, maybe try some new things. But he really wasn’t expecting to ever encounter Clarke again.

So when he did a week later, he certainly wasn’t expecting her to take the papers out of his hands and kiss him.

“Hi.” She said when she pulled back, a bright smile on her face.

“Hi,” he was still in shock, but he managed to return her smile with some effort.

“So, listen.” She made herself comfortable on the couch, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet beneath her. “I think we should chat about our current situation.”

“Do you now.” He put his assignment aside and settled back against the couch as well. He obviously wouldn’t be getting anymore work done.

“The sex was great, I think we should do it again, but I’m really not looking to have it go further than that.”

Somehow, she managed to both increase and significantly shrink the size of his ego, all within one sentence. But really, the more he thought about it, he could live with some regularly occurring sex in his life. “So what do you suggest?”

“I think we should be friends who hang out and are occasionally naked together.”

He smirked, and moved so she was underneath him. “I think we should exchange phone numbers.”

“I think that’s a great idea.” And surged up to kiss him.

***

A few days later, Bellamy received a text while in class.

Clarke Griffin: does it really count as friends with benefits if all we do is the benefits part

He smiled, then looked around. The professor was reading to them from the textbook, and it seemed like most people had checked out mentally already. Plus, Bellamy could read.

me: are you feeling insecure about our label

Clarke Griffin: yes

no

there is a slight chance yes

me: are you wanting to beef up on the friendship part or choose another label

A few minutes passed before she replied, and he anxiously tapped his desk.

Clarke Griffin: do you wanna come over tonight and pretend to do homework?

He waited at least thirty seconds to answer, his attempt at playing hard to get.

me: ill be there at eight

***

When Clarke opened the door, her hair was tossed up into a bun, her glasses were on, and she had on the little pyjama shorts she always wore to do laundry.

“Hey,” she greeted.

“Hey.” He smiled, but then faltered at the sudden silence between them. He cocked his head. “Is it weird to find it weird that we’re not kissing right now?”

She ducked her head in a laugh, moving aside to let him in. “We’re friends right now, remember?”

“And what are we the rest of the time?”

She closed the door, sighing. “Extremely irritating to anyone with ears.”

He laughed, and sat down in her desk chair, setting the bag of food he had brought on her desk. Her room was tidy, but in a way that he knew she didn’t clean up just for him. Her navy bed spread was crisply tucked, and the matching pillows were fluffed and properly placed along the headboard. There was a soft grey carpet under his feet, and she had a collage of pictures stuck to her wall. He squinted at them, and pointed to one where Clarke was clinging to a boy around their age.

“Who’s that?”

“My best friend from back home, Wells.”

Bellamy felt something hot flare in his chest the longer he stared at the picture, so he looked at the others. But Wells was in those, too.

“Should I be jealous?” He was only half kidding, and he thought that it would throw her off if he was the first to bring it up.

She climbed onto her bed, laying out some study notes in front of her. “Well, I’ve never had sex with him, so.”

He felt somewhat comforted, and in order to distract himself, he began pulling out the food he had brought over. “I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten yet, and I didn’t know what you liked, but I thought burgers and fries were a safe bet.”

Clarke’s mouth was agape, and when she caught him looking, she wet her lips. “Very safe bet.” She crawled forward enough to grab the food out of his hand, and lunged into it. “What if I was vegetarian?”

He smiled. “These are from a vegetarian place.”

Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. “These are vegetarian?”

He nodded, smug, and dug into his own burger, listening to Clarke make very familiar sounds as she ate.

He had brought some Greek homework to do, even though she said they weren’t actually going to do any. He wanted to be prepared for anything. And since Clarke pulled out a binder once she was finished eating, he was glad he’d brought something to do.

“Are you any good at math?” She asked a little while later.

He shrugged, non-committal. “I’m not bad at it.”

“That’s better than me. Can you just take a look at it and see what I’m doing wrong?”

He stood, adjusting his sweatpants as he joined her on the bed and leaned his back against the wall. It was a pretty simple trig question, but since she hadn’t wrote down the correct formula, her answers were messed up. He told her the right one, checked her answers again, and gave a thumbs up.

“Now you’ve got it.” He handed the notebook back to her, and their fingers grazed, causing goose flesh to race up his arm.

“Thanks to you.” He flashed her a smile, but got caught on the look in her eyes. They were flashing with something definitely not as tame as a math problem. He noticed suddenly that she’d taken off her sweater, and was left in a tank top that emphasized her breasts quite nicely. He realized he was staring and quickly looked away. He hadn’t been invited here to do that.

“Uh, yeah. Anything else you need help with?”

The sound of a notebook and papers hitting floor echoed in his ears, and soon Clarke had climbed into his lap.

“I thought we were being friends right now.” He teased, even as he ran his hands up her sides.

She rolled her hips until she was settled deeper into his groin, and he let his head fall back against the wall. “Well, now the benefits side of things is feeling neglected.” She argued.

He moved to mouth at her neck, which she encouraged by carding her fingers through his hair. “We certainly can’t have that.”

She ground her hips against him again, and he somehow managed to slip off her shorts without having to lift her off his lap.

He put two fingers in front of her lips. “Suck these.”

She smirked, and took them into her mouth. She held eye contact the entire time, and it was one of the hottest experiences he had ever had in his life. Her tongue teased the crease between his fingers, and she moaned slightly when he crooked them.

Remembering why they were doing this again, he pulled his hand away, despite her whimper. “Yeah, yeah, save it for later.”

She moaned when he slid his fingers against her clit, but still managed to say, “I will.”

She was already so wet, his fingers slipped inside her easily. She bounced slightly, getting the right position, and moaning once he hit the right spot.

“Fuck, Bellamy.”

He liked it when she said his name, and he uncovered a breast to get her to say it again. He curled his fingers inside her, barely having to pump with all the bouncing she was doing, and took a nipple into his mouth. She groaned, and yanked slightly on his hair. He teased her other breast with his free hand, rubbing her nipple until it was hard, then switching positions with his hand and mouth.

“Yeah, Bellamy, Bell—“ She whined as he felt her quiver around his fingers. He pumped harder as he pulled her mouth down to his. She moaned against his lips, bucking wildly against his hand as the first orgasm overtook her.

He waited for her to open her eyes, smirked, and pulled her tank top over her head. “I want you to ride my face.”

She huffed a laugh as they got into position to do exactly that. “It’s not like I’m gonna say no.”

He was glad that he’d decided to wear sweatpants; they made the excruciating hard on in his boxers slightly more bearable. He cupped her ass, pulling her a little closer, and licked into her. She moved her hips against his tongue, pushing one of her hands through his hair.

“Bellamy,” she said it like a question, but it still made his dick twitch a little.

“Yeah?” His response was muffled for obvious reasons.

Her words were a little breathless, and interrupted by moans here and there. “I feel like you’re learning all about—what I like and I’m not learning—about you at all.”

He replaced his tongue with his thumb while he talked, moving it in slow circles against her clit. “Clarke, as long as you’re touching my dick, I’m gonna have a good time.”

She threw her head back a little, and let out a breathy, “Okay.”

She seemed to be satisfied, so he flattened his tongue against her cunt, letting his teeth graze the sensitive skin. He reached up to cup one of her breasts, and jerked slightly when he felt her hand wrap around his dick.

“Clarke—“ He almost protested. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it, but he liked it better when she came first.

“I’ve already come once, and I’m about to again. Relax.”

It was solid logic, really.

He thrusted against her hand, and licked into her until she was squirming.

“Bell—Bell—Bell—“ she cried, not able to finish his name, grinding against his face.

He managed to make her come twice more before he did, and she shuddered, presumably not able to move for a moment, before rolling off of him.

“Damn,” she said, reaching down to pat his arm in congratulations. “We are so good at that.”

***

It was a good routine. He ended up visiting her room mostly, since his room was a communal area. They sometimes met in the laundry room, but they both felt a little weird doing anything there. There didn’t seem to be cameras, but they didn’t want to find out for sure under inappropriate circumstances.

And sex wasn’t all they did together, they found out a lot about each other on the off chance they weren’t getting in each other’s pants. She was majoring in art, and planned to be a graphic designer with commissions on the side. He told her he was studying to become a history teacher, and she called him a nerd. She told him she had a bad relationship with her mom, and they fist bumped over mutual trauma.

They also talked about past relationships, romantic and sexual, which just ended in them making out. But his brain snagged on the fact that Clarke had only been with two people. Not that it held it against her, but he was worried that she might hold how many people he’d slept with against him. He’d already told her he’d slept around in high school, but he hasn’t told her the exact number because he was afraid how she’d react.

“Bellamy.” She’d said when he told her this, looking up from where her head was resting in his lap. “We act like complete whores around each other. I’m not gonna judge you for having a high number.”

He’d huffed a laugh, but still hadn’t given it up. It was one of the many reasons he liked Clarke so much. Sometimes more than a friend, but he had that under control most of the time. He just kept reminding himself how much of a dick he would be if he let himself develop feelings for her after she explicitly said that she wasn’t looking for anything more than sex.

It was hard, though. Clarke was completely his type—smart, witty, gorgeous. Even when he tried thinking about things he didn’t think he liked about her—stubborn, hot-headed, argumentative to a point that put him to shame—he always found a way to defend her and realize that he actually did like those things.

But it didn’t matter how he felt, what mattered was that Clarke trusted him to not be a dick, and he wasn’t planning on proving her wrong anytime soon.

***

By some miracle, a few weeks before the holidays, Raven secured them fakes to go to the bar with.

“The worst that can happen is that they turn us away.” She assured them, handing out the small cards.

“The worst that can happen is the rest of you get in and I don’t.” Miller grumbled, aggressively accepting the ID.

“We’re all gonna get in. Relax.” Bellamy said, looking at his own card. Raven did a good job with the pictures, she managed to take his on a day when he had a little scruff, and it did make him look older.

“Says you, Mr. Six Feet Tall.” Miller scowled at the group of them. “Mrs. High Cheek Bones and Ms. Walks With a Cane.”

Anya frowned. “Why am I a Mrs?”

Raven was also confused. “And why is my characteristic an old person thing?”

Bellamy ignored them, and clapped Miller on the shoulder. “Would it make you feel better if we said that we’ll go home too if you don’t get in?”

“No, because I know you’d be lying.”

Bellamy shook his head, and patted Miller’s cheek. “Unfortunately, your lack of trust just isn’t a problem we can solve in the next twenty minutes.”

Miller grumbled something that sounded like dick, but Bellamy had already moved on. He was excited; he’d only been to a bar once, when he’d had to find his mom after she hadn’t come home for three days. It wasn’t exactly a happy memory, and he was hoping to change that today.

They all ended up making it inside, with only a little bit of sweat appearing on Miller’s upper lip.

Bellamy captured him in a headlock, giving him a gentle nuggie. “See? I told you there was nothing to worry about—“

It was always jarring to see someone you knew in a different context. Like a teacher at a supermarket, or Santa without a beard. It threw you off balance, to see this person have a life outside of you and what you did together; especially when that person told you nothing about that life.

Seeing Clarke sitting at the bar in a black minidress, seeing her face light up when she saw him but then falter slightly—it felt like someone had knocked the air out of his lungs.

“Clarke!” Raven exclaimed, hobbling over to give her an embrace hard enough to nearly knock her off the stool.

Bellamy was still frozen in the doorway, trying to figure out how to breathe and walk at the same time. Clarke knew Raven and Raven knew Clarke and he knew both of them and somehow these relations never once came up with either of them.

Miller circled back, already a lot buzzed from the pregaming they did at the dorm. “Dude, hurry up, did you shit your pants or something?”

“Not yet.” He muttered, shaking himself and readjusting his leather jacket. Pull yourself together, it’s not an awkward one night stand; it’s Clarke.

“Bellamy.” Raven called, waving him over aggressively. “If you could walk slower, that’d be great.”

He flipped her off as he sidled up beside them. He leaned his hip against the bar, clasping and unclasping his hands in order to avoid eye contact with Clarke. He could feel her eyes on him, so of course there was an unflattering blush creeping up his neck.

“Clarke meet Bellamy, Bellamy meet Clarke.” Raven said, bored, then turned to the bartender to order a drink.

He finally managed to meet her gaze, and where he expected anger, there was understanding.

“Nice to meet you.” She said, a secret hiding behind her grin.

He ducked his head in a smile. “You, too.”

“Bellamy, what do you want?” Raven asked.

“Uh, just a beer is fine.” He pulled himself away from Clarke’s gaze. Maybe if he didn’t look directly at her he would be able to stop smiling.

He took a swig out of the bottle that the bartender set on the table, then lightly kicked Miller. “Let’s play pool.”

Miller nodded, clearly trying to act mature in front of the bartender. As soon as they were out of earshot though, he grabbed Bellamy’s arm so hard he was sure there would be bruises. “Dude. I’ve never played pool in my life.”

Bellamy gently shrugged him off. “Me neither. Seems like the perfect time to learn.”

“It seems like the perfect time to make a fool out of ourselves in front of all these adults.”

“Miller. We’re adults.”

“Barely.”

Bellamy shook his head, dusting the chalk onto his cue. “Just shut up and wrack ‘em.”

“I literally don’t know what that means.” Miller was shaking so hard it looked like he was about to accidentally stab himself with the cue.

“Can you calm down before you hurt yourself?” Bellamy grabbed and steadied the cue, afraid for his own life more than Miller’s. “It just means to put the balls into the little triangle thing and set them up along that line.”

Miller nodded, muttering under his breath as he carefully placed them within the barrier. Bellamy glanced towards the bar, and caught Clarke’s eye. He flashed her a smile, which she returned, then turned to say something to Anya and Raven and made her way over.

“Are you having a little trouble?” She asked, eyeing up the sweat covering Miller’s brow.

Miller nodded anxiously, and Clarke laughed, causing Bellamy’s breath to be caught once more.

She helped him line up the balls, then removed the triangle, and grabbed a pool cue for herself. “I’ll tell you what. How about we split up? You two against me.”

Bellamy immediately began shaking his head. “That wouldn’t be fair.”

Clarke shot a pointed look towards Miller, who looked like he was ready to lie down on the floor and give up anytime. “I really don’t think it will be. Come on. What do you have to lose?”

Bellamy glanced at Miller, who shrugged, and then back at Clarke. “Fine. You’re on.”

Clarke smirked, and bent over to line up her first shot, giving Bellamy a perfect view of her ass. She sank three balls just from the break up, and she straightened to give them a cheery smile. “Does anyone want to back out now?”

Bellamy bit his lip. He hadn’t seen this side of Clarke yet, and he didn’t want to admit how turned on he was by it. He shouldered by her, grazing her chest with his forearm purposely. “Not a chance.”

She backed away, gesturing for him to take it away. He lined up the first shot, feeling his nerves act up slightly, and released the cue. He didn’t sink a single ball, and neither did Miller when it came to his turn. Soon it was Clarke’s turn again, and she sunk two more.

Miller was pouting, but Bellamy had no brain power to dedicate to being upset at the prospect of losing. He was too focused on Clarke. Every time she lined up for a shot, she managed to give him a view of something. Her cleavage when she bent over, her ass as she squatted slightly, even a peak at her underwear when she literally sat on the table in order to sink a ball.

He was three beers in, and while he was getting a little unsteady on his feet, he still knew that Clarke was off limits here. Finally, Clarke took the winning shot, and pumped her fist when it landed in the corner pocket. She turned to Miller and Bellamy. “Best two out of three?”

Miller had slumped onto the floor a little while ago, but he put his drink in the air at her words. “Hell yeah.”

Bellamy leaned his cue against the table, wiping his hands on his jeans. “You guys start without me, I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t actually have to piss, but he needed to get himself under control before he faced Clarke again. The bathroom was empty, so he let himself look in the mirror for a minute. His eyes were bloodshot, and he noticed his hair was getting a little wild. He tamed it down with some water as his mind drifted back to Clarke. He couldn’t get her out of his head, and he wasn’t sure if she was doing it on purpose, but if she was, it was working.

The bathroom door opened, and he was a little too tipsy to care who caught him staring at himself in the mirror.

“You put up a good fight.”

He sighed. “You think so?”

Clarke’s arms wrapped around him from behind, hugging his torso. “No, you sucked. But you looked really cute doing it.”

He wet his lips. “I think it’s probably for the best that they don’t know about us. I’m pretty sure they’d make a big deal out of it.” She hummed her agreement, and he turned to face her. Resting his hands on her waist, he took in how pretty she looked even in shitty bathroom lighting. “It was your fault, by the way.”

“And how did you come to that conclusion?” 

“You were distracting me on purpose.”

She gasped. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing?”

He smiled, and leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. “I guess it was only partly your fault. It’s really on me that I’m distracted by you no matter where I am.” He felt her tense in his arms, and he realized he had unknowingly brought them into relationship territory. He hurried to correct himself. “Because, you know, your body and stuff. Wow.” He was not making things any better.

She pulled back, looking thoughtful, seemingly not put off by the word vomit that just came out of his mouth. “You know what I’ve always wanted to do?”

He slid his hands down to her butt, so their touching was a little more sexual and a little less romantic. “What?”

“Suck a guy off in a bar.”

He nearly choked, but he was drunk enough to not care all that much. He shrugged. “There’s no time like the present, I guess.”

Clarke grinned, and sank to her knees. She began unbuttoning his jeans and his boxers as quickly as her drunk self would let her.

“Just a quick question before you get started,” Bellamy said, and she looked up at him expectantly. “What if I was actually pissing in here?”

Clarke shrugged, “It’s not like I haven’t seen your dick before.” And took him into her mouth.

He jerked at the contact, and braced himself against the sink behind him. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back against the mirror. It always made him uncomfortable when guys fucked a girl’s mouth in porn, so he tried not to move his hips too much. But jesus that was difficult with the way that Clarke was absolutely ruining him for any future blowjobs. She licked the length of him, sucked at the end, and then wrapped her mouth around him. His tip was hitting the back of her throat, and he had to bite down on his lip in order to stay quiet.

He gripped the sink harder and looked down at her. She had one hand secured around him, pumping and fondling, while the other was down her panties.

Fuck. It was too much, it was too much, it was—

He hauled her up, and basically manhandled her into the nearest stall. He slammed the door behind them and then shoved her up against it. The kiss was hot and dirty as he yanked her underwear down her legs and positioned himself at her entrance.

“You couldn’t let me be in control for five minutes, could you?”

He kissed her to shut her up as he slipped the condom on. “I’m sure being fucked in a bar is somewhere on your list, too.”

He held her hands above her head with one hand, and put the other lightly around her throat. Her smile was somewhere between aroused and impatient, and he rolled his hips as he thrust into her. He fucked her hard enough that the entirety of the stalls shook, and he had to cover her mouth with his hand to keep her noises somewhat concealed.

“Right there, right there, right there, right there—“ she said it like a mantra, yanking his hair hard enough to hurt, but it only spurred him on.

“Come on, baby, come. Come for me.” His voice was low as he whispered in her ear, and her cry was muffled as the orgasm overtook her. He came just a second after she did, and he had to actually catch his breath from the intensity of it.

Clarke, of course, had recovered in no time, and was idly playing with his hair as she waited for him. “I like the light dirty talk. Is that new?”

He didn’t have the energy to lift his head from her shoulder. “One of these days, I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to speak afterwards either.” His threat was a little breathless, but he felt her tighten around his cock when he was finished.

“If it helps, I don’t think my legs work.”

“Very encouraging.”

“I try to be.”

He spun and set her down on the toilet seat, and unlocked the stall door so he could clean up a little. He could hear her peeing, and he was proud that she was looking after herself. He disposed of the condom, and wiped the sweat off his brow.

“Do you think they’re going to notice how long we’ve been?” He asked just as the toilet flushed.

Clarke exited the stall looking as fresh as a daisy, fluffing her hair and pouting her lips in the mirror. “I’ll say that you fell and I just got you back up off the ground.”

He huffed a laugh as he braced his arms on either side of the sink. “That’s not embarrassing for me at all.”

She patted his arm, looking at him through the mirror. “Sometimes we have to sacrifice, Bellamy.”

“And when is it your turn to sacrifice?”

She pretended to think about it, then smacked him on the ass as she turned around. “Maybe in the next life, baby.”

***

Clarke fit into the group seamlessly. She started hanging out with them all the time. Their study groups, alcohol runs, any parties they happened to attend—Clarke was there. He liked having her around so much, but it was more difficult, too.

When they hung out on their own, it wasn’t weird for him to rest his hand on her thigh while they studied, or have an arm around her shoulders when they watched a movie. Their affection was natural and easy and it didn’t seem out of place. But when they were with the others, he had to have himself on an incessant leash. He wasn’t allowed to lean against her when they talked to their friends, or thread his fingers through hers during video games—even resting his thigh against hers as they sat on the couch felt risky.

The only saving grace was the fact that Clarke appeared to feel the same. He constantly caught her reaching for his hand, his hair, his knee, and then instantly pulling back once she remembered where they were.

He didn’t think he was in love with her, but he beginning to feel something way too damn close for comfort.

Maybe the fact that they’d be separated for a few weeks during the holidays would help. It wouldn’t feel better, exactly, but getting some distance never hurt.

***

“Wait a minute.” Clarke paused the movie that they weren’t really watching, despite Miller’s complaints. “You’re spending Christmas alone?”

“Don’t feel bad for me,” Bellamy warned, staring into his cup. “It makes Raven uncomfortable.”

But Clarke was persistent. “You cannot spend Christmas alone; it makes me uncomfortable.”

He shrugged, feeling strange having this conversation in front of everyone. Well, it was really only Raven listening, Miller and Anya were preoccupied with the colouring pages on the table. “It’s not like I have a choice. Octavia is spending it with her girlfriend, and really, I don’t think I’d want to spend it with her anyway. It’s fine. When I was little it just felt like another day off school; it won’t be any different this year.”

The room was unbearably quiet, the only sound was Miller’s crayons scratching at his paper.

“You’re really okay with that?” Clarke asked, looking at him like there was no one else in the room.

He nodded, gently squeezing her thigh to assure her that everything was working out the way it was supposed to. She turned away from him, and Raven made an insensitive joke, and he thought that everyone had dropped it.

But when they were about to split off into their respective rooms, Clarke pulled him aside. His first thought was that she wanted him to come to her room with her, but her expression was much too somber to be thinking of sex.

Unfortunately.

“What’s up?” He asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

She had her arms crossed, and she was worrying her lip. His stomach felt like it was going to come up through his throat. “I just—I can’t stand the thought of you being all alone in your house on Christmas. Do you even decorate?”

He didn’t answer, which was answer enough.

She shook her head, and reached out to take his hand. “I know this sounds—scary, maybe, but I want you to come home with me over the break.”

Inconveniently, his brain had suddenly stopped working. His mouth was gaping open like a fish, and Clarke took the opportunity to rush on. “It’s just me and my parents, sometimes Wells comes over for dinner, but it’s nothing major, and I just know you’d fit in perfectly.”

He couldn’t help but smile, despite the nervous thrumming in his chest, and reach out to clasp both of their hands together. Clarke wanted him to meet her parents, her childhood best friend, and spend her favourite holiday with her. He thought about how she tensed up every time he mentioned something too close to a relationship between them, and wondered how this dynamic fit in her mind.

“Please.” She pleaded, stepping a little closer, making his mind a little more blank. “It can be your Christmas present to me.”

He shook his head, laughing. “I’m pretty sure you’re doing more of a favour to me than I am to you.”

“Is that a yes?”

He looked up to the ceiling, sighing. “If it really means that much to you—“

She squealed, and threw her arms around his neck, making him stumble back slightly. He quickly returned the embrace, tucking his face into her neck. He couldn’t believe he just agreed to spending almost three weeks straight with Clarke, but he’d have to have the strongest will power in the world to say no.

Miller was waiting for him when he got back, arms crossed and looking smug.

Bellamy was genuinely confused. “What?”

“You’re secretly dating Clarke.”

He almost laughed out loud, what they were doing came nothing close to dating. She didn’t see him like that, no matter how much he wanted her to.

“You’re insane.” He flopped onto his bed and opened his laptop. Maybe his Greek grades were posted.

“I heard you two out in the hall, and I saw you. If you’re not dating, you’re definitely sleeping together.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, even though he was pretty sure he was breaking out in stress hives. “What did you hear that makes you so sure of that?”

“She literally asked you to spend Christmas with her.” 

“As a friend.”

“You were holding hands.”

“You know, Nathanial, spying is a terrible habit to get into.”

Miller shook his head, climbing into bed himself. “Whatever, man, deny it all you want. Anyone can see you’re in love with her.”

His heart had practically jumped into his throat, but still he replied, “Fuck off, you’re just jealous that I’m closer to her than I am with you.”

Miller mumbled something else, but Bellamy was in too much of a panic. He was spending the holidays with a girl that everyone knew he was in love with, and she felt nothing for him.

He turned his face into his pillow, and silently screamed.

***

It was strange for him to be relieved when exams came along since, again, they were exams. But he was glad to have something else to worry about other than his feelings for Clarke, and to have an excuse not to see her as often.

He really was trying not to push her away, but it hurt to be near her, and she knew him too well not to notice when something was wrong. It’d been nearly a week since they’d seen each other when she called him.

“I’m lonely.” He could hear the pout in her voice.

“Uh huh. What else?”

There was a pause, then, “Bellamy, you know I’m always horny. It’s a given. That’s not the only reason I call you.”

He was glad she couldn’t see the dumb smile that was glued to his face. “Sure. So why did you call me?”

Another pause, and she whined. “To have sex. But I call you for other reasons, too!”

He laughed. “Even if that was true, I can’t come over right now. I have to study for tomorrow.”

“I once read that orgasms really help your memory.” She sing-songed, and god she knew exactly what to say.

“I want to believe that, trust me, but I really have to study.” She started to protest again, and he rushed on. “But, just think, in two days? We’ll have a whole house to ourselves for two weeks where we’ll be able to do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” He could so imagine her twirling a phone cord around her finger, if they still existed.

“Whatever you want. I promise.”

She sighed. “Fine. But I’m holding you to that.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” He teased, and they hung up.

He had a slight stomachache, but he was chalking it up to a steady diet of ramen noodles. The ache only increased when Raven barged through the door, waggling a pen at him threateningly.

“What’s going on between you and Clarke?”

He stared at the writing object, cocking his head in disbelief. “What are you gonna do? Write me up?”

“Answer the question!” The waggling became increasingly more aggressive.

“Okay! Okay! There’s nothing going on between me and Clarke!” It was funny how lies started to slip right off the tongue.

“Miller just told me you were sleeping together.”

Bellamy huffed, turning back to his notes. “Miller doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Really? Because I just asked Clarke what her Christmas plans were, and she said that you were going home with her.”

He rolled his eyes. “To her parents house where we’ll be sleeping in separate bedrooms. Did I happen to mention it was her parents house?”

“Her parents don’t get back until Christmas Eve.”

“Oh, boy then, I hope we’ll be able to control ourselves.”

“Bellamy. I’m serious.”

He turned to face her, crossing his arms. “I said Clarke and I aren’t sleeping together. You’ll just have to take my word for it.”

Raven stared at him for a minute longer, presumably to see if he’d crack under her gaze, but he kept his gaze cold and unconcerned. “You better not fuck this up, Blake.”

She spun on her heel and walked back out through the door, and Bellamy let go of the breath he had been holding. Jesus, what would his friends ever do if they found out the truth?

***

“Road trip! Road trip! Road trip!” Clarke chanted as she threw her luggage into the trunk of Bellamy’s car. “You know what that means? Road head! Road head! Road—“

“Shh!” He hurried to cover her mouth, looking around at the mostly empty parking lot, and she giggled. “Would you calm yourself? Just a little?”

She nodded, and began mouthing the words instead as she danced her way to the passenger side door. He shook his head as he closed the trunk, and climbed into the drivers seat. (He did not allow her to suck his dick, because that was dangerous, but he had nothing against getting her off with his fingers along the way.)

Clarke’s parents lived about four hours away, and it was an easy drive, especially in the middle of the day. It had just started snowing when they pulled into the driveway. It was honestly more of a mansion, with tall white pillars guarding the entrance, and reaching to about three stories tall.

“Huh.” He said as he stepped out of the car. “So you’re rich rich.”

Clarke stepped out as well. “Mom’s a doctor and Dad’s a software developer, so.”

He looked over at her. “How do they feel about you studying art?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Not great?”

He laughed, and went to the trunk to begin unloading the vehicle. Clarke had brought her entire wardrobe with her, all in matching name brand suitcases, which made his measly duffle bag look very depressing.

She showed him his room, which was right across from hers, and decorated in deep greens and blacks. The bed was massive, and he couldn’t help but flop onto it the moment his put his luggage down. He groaned aloud at the softness of the comforter. “God, I love being friends with you.”

Clarke stood in the doorway, twirling her hair around one finger. “I think I’m gonna take a shower.”

Bellamy sighed blissfully, hugging a silk pillow against his chest. “Okay.”

A beat. “You wanna join me?”

His head popped up to see a shy smile adorning her face, and he returned it. “I like the sound of that.”

She turned away, shaking her hair loose from the bun she had kept it in during the drive and throwing a seductive smile over her shoulder. He bounded off the bed, and ran to scoop her up off the floor. She screamed with laughter as he threw her over his shoulder and she pounded at his back.

“Put me down!” She squealed, but he could tell she loved it. He smacked her ass, causing her to yelp, then set her down once they were in the bathroom.

He reached over to turn on the shower, letting the space fill with steam. She had on a shy smile, and her hands were wrapped around the hem of her t-shirt, like she was nervous or something.

He crowded her against her wall, lifting her arms above her head and running his hands up the length of them. He smiled, he couldn’t help it, and kissed her, deep and slow. She moaned into it, and he spread her legs with his knee, giving her something to grind down on. He kept on kissing her, urging her to make the noises she normally did, but she was unusually quiet.

He pulled back as if catching his breath, and pressed his forehead against hers. “This okay?”

She hummed in agreement, and ran her hands up his sides, stopping to clasp them around his neck; but she wasn’t opening her eyes. He wracked his brain for what could be bothering her. He thought he’d been a perfect gentlemen the entire time. Was it something he’d said? She seemed fine in the car, and during the tour—

Something clicked in his mind, and he lowered his head to mouth at her neck. “You know, I think this’ll be the first time we’ll actually be completely naked.”

Her legs tightened around his, and not in arousal. “Mm hmm.” Her response was high and squeaky.

He kissed back up her neck until they were face to face again, where her eyes still remained shut tight. “Is that why you’re so tense?”

Her eyes flicked open in surprise, as if in wonder that he could have figured it out, and then she sighed, relenting. “I’m just—I’m a little nervous about you seeing—all of me.”

She glanced up at him, worrying her lip, and he couldn’t help but kiss her again. “Clarke,” he said once they pulled away. “You know I’m crazy about your body, right? I wouldn’t change a thing, even if I could. You’re absolutely—“

She surged up to kiss him, cutting off the last of his words. She tangled her fingers in his hair, and held him close against her, finally and frantically grinding down on his knee. She ripped away, and shoved him down by his shoulders until he was kneeling in front of her.

He paused, looking up at her. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

She rolled her eyes, and he knew she was back to her usual snarky self. “I want to. Now get to it.”

He smiled, and slid her leggings down to her ankles. He sucked at her entrance for a few moments before standing up. He wanted it all to happen in the shower. He grasped the hem of her tank, and she raised her arms to accommodate him. He peeled it off of her body, leaving her in just a bra, which he quickly took off as well.

He stood back to admire her as a pretty flush filled her cheeks. “Damn.”

She shook her head. “Shut up. It’s your turn.”

He smirked but obeyed, yanking his t-shirt over his head while she worked on his jeans. His dick sprang up between them, and she immediately wrapped her hand around it greedily, bending slightly to lick up his stomach.

He pushed her slightly, rolling his eyes. “Come on, let’s not get distracted.”

“That’s your fault, not mine.”

“And how do you figure that?” He asked as he herded her into the shower.

“You look like that. I’m only human, Bellamy.”

“Uh huh.” He backed her up against the wall under the stream of water, and took her bottom lip between his teeth, biting it slightly. Her hips instantly inclined towards his, her bare chest sliding against him.

He pulled away and spun his finger in a circle. “Turn around.”

She giddily did as she was told, barely resisting the urge to clap. “How exciting.”

He shook his head while he waited for the water to soak her hair through. When it was, he squeezed some of shampoo on top of her head and began massaging it in.

“What are your hands doing way up there?”

“Patience is a virtue you should learn to cultivate.” He piled all her curls on top of her head, making sure every strand was covered in suds.

She huffed. “I’m clearly not doing enough if you’re still coherent enough to say all that.”

“Just shut up and enjoy your head massage.”

She crossed her arms, deepening her cleavage extensively. “Fine, but then I’m massaging your head.”

Chuckling, he turned her around so her head was once again under the stream of water. He pushed his fingers through her hair, making sure all the suds were rinsed out. He’d always loved her hair; it reminded him of a storybook princess.

He realized she was staring at him, a soft look in her eyes, and he was suddenly felt—well, naked. “What are you looking at me like that for?”

She shook her head, but the look didn’t leave her eyes. “No reason. Come on,” she gently pushed his shoulders. “Turn around so I can do you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Do me?”

“Patience is a virtue, Bellamy.” She mocked, dumping nearly the entire bottle of shampoo onto his head. Her fingernails gently scratched his scalp, and he leaned into her touch.

Soon, however, her hands were trailing much lower than his scalp. “How have I not noticed your butt before? You have a great butt.” She praised, grazing her hand along it as she talked.

“I made you come four times on the way here, how are you still this horny?”

“Because what’s better than four orgasms? Five.” She whispered the last word, her fingers moving slowly down his treasure trail.

“Alright, alright.” He grabbed her hands, and tugged until they were in opposite positions, the stream falling over him instead. “At least let me rinse first.”

She was pouting a little, so he smirked, and said the next words right next to her ear. “In the mean time, I want you to go stand against the wall, and touch yourself.”

She bit her lip in a smile, and happily went to lean against the wall. “Where?”

“I want that hand there—“ He pointed to her left breast. “—and that hand there—“ He pointed between her legs. “—and, I want you to say my name.” Her hands went to their respective spaces, massaging and sliding over her wet skin. She moaned a little, and rested her head against the wall.

“Bellamy.” His dick twitched as he quickly washed out his hair.

“Again.”

“Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy.”

“That’s right. Don’t stop.” He stroked himself as he watched her, his breath getting a little heavier as she moaned his name again and again. “And, don’t come until I say so.”

She whined, and slowed her fingers, her mouth falling open in a silent moan. “Bell. Please. Please—“

“I said don’t.”

“Bellamy—Bell—“ her cries were getting more desperate, and he finally took pity on her, striding towards her and replacing her fingers with his own. She was just barely holding off from coming, her fingernails digging into his shoulder at the effort. He slowed his fingers to a brutal pace, pushing harder against her clit.

“You like when I tell you what to do?” It was all she could do to nod. He slipped two fingers into her, pumping furiously, and pitched his voice low. “Come.”

She fell apart, the sound coming out of her part cry and part scream. Her teeth sunk into his shoulder a little, but his fingers didn’t let up. He stroked her through her orgasm, listening to her pant as she rode out the last waves.

She had barely recovered before she spun to face the wall, and reached to pull him tight against her back. “Dick inside me, right now.”

He hummed smugly, lining himself up with her entrance. “I like it when you tell me what to do, too.” And nipped her ear.

He planted his hands on her hips, and pushed into her, waiting a moment to adjust before beginning to thrust. She placed her hands on top of his, and slowly bucked against him. Their bodies slid against one another smoothly, and Bellamy clasped their hands together, holding them against the wall. He mouthed at her neck as she said his name over and over again like a mantra.

“Fuck, Bellamy. Right—right there.”

He let go of one of her hands to finger her clit, loving the way she tightened around him once he did. He thrust into her harder, turning her moans into cries.

“Yeah—Yeah—Yeah—Bellamy—“

They climaxed at the same moment, the feeling so intense he couldn’t even find the strength to fuck her through it.

“Fuck.” He said once he could talk, spinning her around again to crush his lips to hers. She pulled away a little dazed, then shook her head.

“That was—“

“One of the best, really.”

“Right? God, how are we gonna top that?”

He laughed, stepping away to rinse off. “I’m sure we’ll find a way.”

***

It was a pretty great two weeks. They didn’t have to sneak around, or hide anything, and even though all he wanted to do was curl up next to her on the couch and call her filthy things like his girlfriend, he happily distracted himself by digging through all of Clarke’s childhood belongings. It was eye opening learning about what she was like as a kid.

There were piles and piles of pictures, mostly of her at competitions holding the first place prize, but some were with Wells, too.

“Did you win everything you participated in?” There were swim, horseback, piano and dance competitions by the look of it, and he’d only gone through half the pile.

“Mom couldn’t have it any other way.”

He noticed that there weren’t any art competitions, by the look of it. “Did you start drawing in high school?”

She shook her head. “No, I always loved painting and sketching, but she didn’t want me to get any ideas, so she never let me enter in anything like that.”

He hummed, and let the subject drop. She’d told him that she didn’t have the greatest relationship with her mom, and he could see how even being in the house changed how she acted. She was tense, and didn’t like to stray into the main parts like the living room or kitchen—like it wasn’t her house.

When her parents called her, it was always short and never very affectionate. He’d started playing a game where he crowded her against something—the couch, the island, the wall—while she was talking and tried to make her laugh, or moan.

He usually won.

She’d shove him away after she’d hung up, pretending to be annoyed, then climb right back on top of him to finish what he’d started.

Soon though, it was Christmas Eve, and her parents were due to be home any minute.

“Bellamy, you’re pacing again.”

He barely glanced at her, and continued. He couldn’t help it, he was nervous. He had been biting his nails all day, and stress cleaning the entire house, even though the maid had been there the day before. He wasn’t the guy that girls took home to meet parents, he wasn’t the guy that wanted to meet parents—he normally barely knew the girl’s last name. But he wanted Clarke’s parents to like him, he wanted them to invite him back again and again, and he didn’t want to give Clarke any reason to push him away.

“Bellamy.” Clarke hopped down from the counter, and stood in front of him, placing her hands on his forearms. “You’re going to be fine. I don’t know one person who doesn’t like you, why wouldn’t they?”

“Murphy from psych doesn’t like me.” He sniffed.

“Murphy from psych doesn’t like anyone.” She argued, and pulled him over to the couch. She sat him down, snuggling in next to him. He had to admit, it helped. She turned on the tv, where a hallmark movie was playing. “Just try to relax, okay?”

And he did, he really did, but then he saw headlights flash through the front window and he was off the couch so fast he had nearly thrown Clarke to the floor. “They’re here. They’re here, they’re here, they’re here.”

He ran to the front door, peeking out through the irritatingly small, triangle shaped windows. “They’re unloading their bags. Should I go out and help? I should go out—shit. The driver got them all. You’re not the one trying to impress anybody!”

He felt a hand run up his side, and he turned towards her. She was smiling at him like he was an idiot, because he was. He sighed. “I really am trying to be calm.”

She kissed him gently. “I know. Now answer the door.”

He nodded, and turned to open it. Mr. and Mrs. Griffin rushed inside, laughing as they shook the snow from their coats and the tops of their heads.

“It is really coming down out there.” Jake said, his nose cherry red. They dropped their bags at their feet, and he turned to pay the driver. Once he had done that, he clasped his hands together, and turned to Bellamy. “You must be Bellamy.”

Bellamy nodded, and swallowed, grasping his outstretched hand. “It’s great to finally meet you.”

“You, too. We’ve heard a lot about you.” Abby said, taking his hand as well.

He turned, heart pounding and eyebrows raised, to Clarke. “Have you now.”

She blushed, and rushed to greet her parents. “How was the trip?”

“It was lovely.” Abby remarked, pulling the scarf from around her neck. “The Bahamas are always so great this time of year.”

“We swam with pigs. Can you believe that? Swimming with dolphins is apparently old news.” Jake commented, moving to pick up the bags.

Bellamy hurried to help. “Let me get that, sir.”

Jake straightened, raising his eyebrows. “Sir, huh?” He looked to Clarke. “I like this one.”

Bellamy felt his chest swell with pride.

The rest of the evening passed mostly pain free. With her parents having ample stories to share from their trip, Bellamy could simply sit back and relax. He threw in a question here and there, as any respectful listener does, and revelled in how they each gobbled up the attention. Clarke seemed to be relaxed too, and he selfishly wondered if it had anything to do with him.

Around midnight, they said their good nights, and headed upstairs. Bellamy and Clarke paused before entering their separate rooms, thoughtful.

“I like them.” He said, leaning against the door jamb.

She ducked her head in a smile. “I think they like you, too.”

“Yeah?”

She stepped towards him, wrapping her arms around his torso. “Yeah.”

She reached to kiss him, and he returned it, chasing her mouth even once she pulled away.

She stepped back. “Goodnight.”

His smile was very, very stupid. “Goodnight.”

***

He had never had such an amazing Christmas before, and in fact, no holiday would ever again come close to this one. On Christmas morning, Jake cooked pancakes, bacon, eggs, and waffles, with fresh fruit on the side and real maple syrup. Bellamy ate too much of everything, and had to request a community lie down before presents.

They had decorated the tree all together the night before, and it shone brightly in the corner, proudly protecting their gifts.

Clarke’s parents had boughten him an expensive looking brown watch with a leather band that he instantly loved, and they gave Clarke a silver charm bracelet with a paint brush attached. They each gushed about their presents, thanking them again and again to the point where Jake had to put a hand up to shut them up.

Clarke had bought Jake a tie with cartoon computers on it and Abby a gold necklace, and Bellamy had framed a dazzling photo of the three of them in a wood crafted frame. Abby held the frame to her chest and thanked him profusely.

Finally, and he was most excited about this, Bellamy opened his present from Clarke. Inside the box, he found collector’s editions of the Iliad and the Odyssey, complete with maps and vivid illustrations, that he knew must have each cost at least over a hundred dollars.

“Hey,” he scolded. “This is way over the budget we discussed.”

She waved him off, scooting closer to look at the books herself. “Aren’t they awesome? I ordered them off an independent website that designs and sells them herself.”

“Yeah, they are.” He agreed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He suddenly wanted to kiss her very badly, so to cope with that he awkwardly shoved her present into her arms. “My turn!”

She smiled, shaking her head, and dug into the wrapping paper. He had bought her new brushes, a new set of water colours, and a new sketch book with the thick paper that she liked.

She scowled. “Don’t talk to me about overspending.”

He rolled his eyes, and nudged her with his shoulder. “Open it up, open it up.”

She did as she was told, and was clearly delighted by the gruesome sketch she found inside. Bellamy had done a self portrait, which looked a frighteningly lot like Shrek, and had wrote a message beneath it.

To the best artist I know, from the worst artist you know. — Bellamy

“You’re not the worst artist I know.”

“Close enough.”

She hummed. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“You’re so welcome.” He cleverly avoided eye contact this time, deciding to fiddle noisily with some wrapping paper instead.

Jake clapped his hands together. “So. Who’s ready for some lunch?”

***

They basically lounged around the rest of the day, stuffing themselves with the various items of food that Jake prepared. When dinner time arrived, there was a knock on the door, and Bellamy hurried to answer it.

Before he could say anything, the man smiled wide, clasping his hands together. “You must be Bellamy.”

Bellamy managed a stunned nod, still quite shocked that Clarke would talk about him while he wasn’t around. Thrilled, but shocked. “Hi, yes. And you are—?”

“Wells. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” He stuck out his hand, and Bellamy grasped it.

“Wells.” Bellamy said, finally placing where he knew him from. “Yes, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

He stepped inside, shaking the snow from off his head. “All good things I hope.”

Bellamy shrugged. “Mostly.”

Suddenly, a blonde whirlwind crashed between them and nearly knocked Wells back out through the door. “Wells!”

“Clarke! Hug me, don’t break me!”

Clarke just laughed, and dragged him into the kitchen to greet her parents. Bellamy struggled to swallow the burning sensation in his chest, taking a few deep breaths before following them.

She’s sleeping with you, not him, she’s sleeping with you, not him, she’s sleeping with you, not him—

Unfortunately, he couldn’t even hate Wells behind his back. He was kind, funny and perfectly perfect in every way. He even liked ancient history, which was Bellamy’s thing. Ok, maybe he hated him a little.

“It’s not really a surprise that we have so much in common. We are two of her favourite people.” Wells explained to him whilst Clarke was out of earshot.

Bellamy suddenly felt flushed, and his words were embarrassingly muttered. “I wouldn’t say I’m her favourite.”

Wells cocked his head. “Are you sure? Because anytime I talk to her, you’re ninety percent of the conversation.”

This was getting to be almost too much to handle. Between the champagne and all the very encouraging remarks about Clarke’s feelings for him, he was nearly ready to pass out.

Thankfully, he was saved from having to reply when Jake called them all for dinner. Jake sat at the head of the table, with Abby and Clarke beside him. Wells slid in beside Abby, so that left Bellamy sitting beside Clarke. She smiled brightly at him, and that passing out thing was becoming a real possibility.

They all chatted idly about the food, what Wells was studying, what Bellamy was studying, until a lull surfaced.

Naturally, Jake turned his attention towards Bellamy and asked, “So, are you two dating?”

Bellamy choked, while Clarke shot daggers at her father. “Dad!”

Bellamy shook his head, daintily wiping his mouth with his napkin to cover up the fact that he’d almost just wet himself. “No, sir, we’re not.” He glanced at Clarke, then looked away to scoop some potatoes onto his fork. “But I would in a second if she’d let me.”

The words just slipped out, really, and he could feel everyone looking at him. However, instead of facing the issue, he commented on the stuffing. Wells covered up a laugh with a cough, but Jake seemed pleased, and the conversation drifted into a much less loaded topic once more.

He could still feel Clarke looking at him, and when he returned her gaze, there was a look of frozen shock on her face. He smiled lightly, even though it felt like his insides were going to explode, and she returned it, quickly looking back to her plate.

He knew this was nowhere near the last time he’d hear of this.

***

By bedtime, Bellamy had had enough to drink to think that sneaking into Clarke’s bedroom in the middle of the night was actually a good idea.

He creaked open the door, and found her still awake, sitting in bed with her glasses on, reading a book. He knocked lightly on the door, and she looked up, smiling. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” She said, removing her glasses.

He came in, closing the door, and carefully walked to the side of the bed. He placed his feet carefully in front of each other, so as not to give himself away.

“What’s up?” She asked.

For some reason, that question struck him very funny, and a small giggle broke from his lips. He clapped a hand over his mouth, hoping Clarke hadn’t noticed.

Of course, she had, and she was very, very amused by the fact. “You’re drunk.”

He shook his head, hands on his hips. “Am not.”

“Fine. Say the alphabet backwards.”

He snorted. “I can’t even do that when I’m sober.”

“Ha!” She pointed at him, narrowing her eyes. “So you admit you’re not sober.”

He smirked, and stole the book from her lap, crawling on top of her. “Sober enough.”

“Oh, really? Is that all you want me for? My body?” She tried to sound offended, even as she slid down so they were very horizontal.

He mouthed at her neck, and her words dissolved into moans. She slipped her hands under his shirt, and he found her mouth again in order to properly kiss her. The kiss was slow, passionate, and—different. He’d noticed something strange the last few times they’d slept together. Not bad, exactly, but as if there was something other than lust driving them.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that, so he shouldered past his thoughts and focused on undoing his belt. He was having a little bit more difficulty than usual, given his state of mind and everything, so much so that Clarke giggled and swatted his hands away to do it herself.

He couldn’t help but stare as she worked at his pants. Her lips were slightly swollen and pink, and her hair was a little messy, and all he wanted to do was kiss her. And he did, but that wasn’t what he meant.

He wanted to kiss her when they woke up together, he wanted to meet her after class and kiss her hello, and kiss her goodnight, and kiss her anytime he wanted because—

Because he was in love with her.

Now he was sober.

“Bellamy? You okay?”

He realized he hadn’t been doing anything, and he shook his head. “Sorry. Just—thinking.”

“Well, there’s none of that allowed in this bedroom.” She teased, and flipped them over so she was on top.

He smiled, but it was forced. He couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t keep pretending he didn’t want anything more from this, from her, and he couldn’t keep pretending to not notice that she didn’t want the same.

If this is the last time, it has to be one to remember.

He surged up to kiss her, tangling his fingers in her hair and rocking his hips against her ferociously. She moaned in surprise, but quickly returned his forcefulness, digging her nails into his back and grinding down on him. He flipped them once more, kissing down her stomach, then straightening to take off his shirt. She ran her hands greedily up his stomach, and sat up as well to remove her own shirt.

Seeing her nipples were already hard, he pushed her back down against the mattress to give them some more attention. Swirling his tongue around one, he snaked one hand down between her legs, giving her some friction where she wanted it the most.

“Bellamy.” She murmured, pushing her hands through his hair.

He kissed down her stomach, sucking a few hickeys there along the way, and finally settled between her legs. He licked into her slow, taking his time. He knew this wouldn’t be the last time he ate a girl out, but it would be the last time with Clarke, and he wanted to make it count.

He reached up to massage her breast, making her arch her back off the bed. She bucked a little against his face, urging him to speed up, but he didn’t listen. He sucked on her clit slowly, and her body practically dissolved when her first orgasm overtook her. He got her off twice more, then reached for a condom.

“Shit, Bellamy. You’re on a mission, huh?”

He smirked as he rolled the condom on, and staying on his knees, pulled her to him. He lifted her hips up to meet his, and positioned one leg over his shoulder, holding the other in his hand. She always pretended she liked to be fucked fast, but he knew she enjoyed it more when he stretched it out.

He slowly thrusted into her, only speeding up slightly once she adjusted to the new position. She clenched her fists in her sheets, biting her lip and letting her eyes shut. He felt her clench around him, but she wasn’t coming.

He smacked her ass lightly once he realized.

“Hey.” He said, sharp but teasing. “Stop holding off.”

She moaned. “I can’t help it, Bellamy. This is, this is—“

He released one of her legs to play with her clit, and the added stimulation had her thrashing about on the bed in no time.

He pulled out, setting her back down on the mattress, and she whimpered. He raised his eyebrows, acting surprised. “You want another one?”

She nodded eagerly, and tugged him on top of her, covering his mouth with hers. “It feels great when you’re up there,” she admitted. “But I like it when you’re down here with me.”

He nodded, feeling stupid, stupid tears spring to his eyes. “Noted.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, staring into his eyes as he began thrusting again. She gripped his arms as she came for the fifth time, his own orgasm following a minute later. He slumped against her once it was finished, the room filled with their panting. He rolled off her, intending to get up and get dressed, but she had cuddled up against him before he got any further.

“You were right.” She sighed. “We do always manage to beat the last time.”

He huffed a laugh, and he was glad that she couldn’t see his somber expression as he pressed a kiss to her hair.

A few minutes had passed, and he’d thought she’d fallen asleep until she said, “Bellamy, about what you said at dinner—“

He felt his stomach drop, and his defences rose immediately to compensate. “Don’t worry, like you said, I only want you for your body.”

There was a beat, and then she nodded. “Right. Just checking.”

Any hope he’d held out drained from his body, and when he was sure she’d truly fallen asleep, he slipped out of bed and began to pack for the long trip home.

***

His house was cold, and dark, and bare. It was like no one had been there in months. The couch groaned as Bellamy sat on it, and he put his head in his hands.

He felt an overwhelming wave of emotion flare up in his chest, and he couldn’t control it any longer as he sobbed into his hands, hard enough that his chest felt like it was going to break open.

He’d given up the one good thing he’d had in his life, and he had no one to blame but himself.

***

A week later, New Year’s Eve

Somehow, Raven and Miller had convinced him to leave the safety of his own home, and dragged him out to a house party in Arkadia. He welcomed a distraction, but since he hadn’t told them about Clarke, he couldn’t exactly tell them he didn’t want to be around her.

Therefore, he was in a constant sweat the entire night, afraid that she could be lurking around any corner. He was three beers in, loose but aware, when a cold gust of air blew in through the open door.

It felt like that first time he’d seen her in the laundry room, or the time she’d caught him off guard at the bar. Except this time, there wasn’t a glimmer of hope shining shyly in his chest, there wasn’t the possibility of something more.

That much was very clear once he saw Finn Collins step behind her, and dotingly take her coat. He’d half expected her to leer at him, roll her eyes and walk away as fast as she could. To walk over to Bellamy in a huff and say ‘Did you see that guy? I can’t believe I ever went out with him!’

Instead, she smiled, and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek.

Bellamy looked away, the burning in his throat becoming too much to handle, taking a large swig of his beer. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to curl up in a ball or punch something, but he knew either option probably wouldn’t end well.  

He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. It hadn’t even been a week, and Clarke had already found someone else. It just proved that Bellamy was nothing more than a warm body to her, a place holder until someone better came along. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that she considered Finn better, but it wasn’t like he could blame her. Bellamy had been the one to run away, it was only fair that she found someone to replace him.

He shook his head, grabbing another beer and heading for the door. It was nearly midnight, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand seeing her kiss someone else.

He’d forgotten it was cold out, and left his coat inside, goosebumps already forming on his arms. But he simply sipped at his beer, letting it warm him from the inside out. He planted his butt on the edge of the curb, resting his forearms on his knees.

He sighed, holding his bottle up to the sky. “You’ve done it again,” he said. “Ruined a perfectly good holiday season.”

His laugh was bitter as he tilted the beer back, letting it spill into his mouth. He wiped it away messily, staring up at the deep black above him. There wasn’t a single star, and he thought it was very appropriate.

The door creaked open, and the click of heeled boots on the pavement made his heart jump in his chest.

Clarke stopped behind him, dropping a crumpled up piece of paper into his lap. “A note?” She said, not trying to hide the hurt and disbelief in her voice. “Really? You couldn’t even have bothered to call me?”

When he didn’t reply right away, she turned to stomp off, halfway to the door before he could make his mouth work.

“It’s not like it took you long to move on. When did you call him? I assume before the bed was even cold.”

He knew it was a low blow as soon as the footsteps stopped, but he was hurt and drunk and he didn’t care.

“God, you are such a dick.” She spat. “You’re the one who said you were only in it for the sex, you were the one who walked out. What I do to cope with your decisions is none of your business.”

He stood, turning to face her, shaking his head with a humourless smile. “I only said those things because you said, from the very beginning, that you didn’t want this to go any farther than the bedroom. I was only respecting what you said you wanted.”

“That was months ago! You didn’t even think to ask me what I wanted now! Instead, you run off as soon as something more might be going on between us.”

“Says you!” He was practically shouting now, his face going red with the effort. “You ran off to him the second I was gone. You didn’t care about me or us or anything we might have had, you only cared about having someone. It didn’t matter who.”

“Bullshit.” Her voice shook as tears welled up in her eyes. “That is bullshit. It mattered and you know it.”

He swallowed. “Past tense being the operative subject.”

They were quiet, and Bellamy sighed, turning back around to sit on the curb once more. He could hear the countdown starting. “Whatever, Clarke. You obviously made your choice. And I don’t need you anymore than you need me.”

He heard her sniff, but she wasn’t going back inside. He took another swig of beer to give his hands something to do.

“It doesn’t matter what you say, or what you do, the right guy will understand.” Her voice was hard, but strained.

“Then I guess I’m not as good a guy as you thought I was.”

Finally, she turned on her heel and made her way inside, slamming the door shut behind her.

He heard the last numbers of the countdown, and he was numb to the screams as everyone welcomed the new year.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Happy fucking New year.”

He threw the bottle as hard as he could across the street, listening to the sound of it shattering entirely as it collided with the pavement.

He wished he could do the same.

***

The next few weeks were some of the worst he thought he might have ever experienced. It was hard to sleep, it was hard to eat, and it was hard to just exist. He had one class with Clarke, which they had both been so excited for before Christmas.

A lot of things were different before Christmas.

He didn’t know how to talk to his friends, he didn’t know how to hang out with them without being on a constant lookout for her. It didn’t help that Raven, Anya and Miller had no idea what had gone on between them, nor did they know why they couldn’t be in the same room anymore.

He avoided the laundry room like the plague. Not only did it constantly remind him of her, but it was a common area. Anyone could walk in—she could walk in. And he wouldn’t be able to handle the cold glance and the silent actions, like nothing had happened between them since the first time they met there.

He spent most of his time in his room, and now that Miller was spending all of his free time with his new boyfriend, he usually had it all to himself. The only good thing to come out of this whole thing—at least his grades weren’t suffering. He dedicated nearly all his time to studying, as he tried to convince himself it should be.

He didn’t come here to make friends or have a girlfriend or live out a teenage drama filled fantasy. But he didn’t come here only to end up a friendless loser, either.

He let his head fall unto his desk, groaning. His eyes drifted to the picture that Clarke had sketched of him pinned to his wall. He’d thought it was a little self indulgent to pin up a picture of himself, but she’d argued that this kind of beauty should be on display.

He abruptly turned his head the other way, avoiding of the memory of what had happened afterwards.

The worst part of everything was—he shouldn’t even be mad at her. He wasn’t mad at her. But he couldn’t bring himself to go see her, he didn’t know what he’d do if she wouldn’t talk to him or slammed the door in his face.

He groaned again, and stalked over to his bed. But when he flopped onto it, the corner of a book pierced his eyebrow, making him wince.

“Um. Ouch.” He pulled the perpetrator from beneath his pillow, turning it over in his hands. A sketchbook.

He knew who’s it was, and he knew he wouldn’t feel better by looking in it, but he couldn’t stop himself from flicking through the first couple of pages.

They were mundane sketches, nothing overly exciting about them other than that Clarke did them. A bench, the side of a building, a tree, things that didn’t matter and were easy to capture. She’d dated them in neat cursive at the bottom, and they were all done before classes had started.

The images made him feel like he hadn’t lost all of her, and so he continued through the pages, until around half way through when his heart stopped.

There was his face, clear as anything, but he almost didn’t recognize himself. His features were striking, brought out in smooth pencil and charcoal. Freckles dotted his skin as always, but on paper they were better, more noticeable, maybe even his best feature.

He flipped the pages.

There he was hunched over a desk, lounging in her bed, buried in a book, throwing his head back in a laugh—he’d never even noticed her drawing these, and yet here they were, a flip book of their time together.

On the final page, she was with him, curled up against his side as they slept. It wasn’t finished.

He closed the book, pressing it against his chest until its hard edges drove away the urge to cry.

She’d felt the same. She’d felt the same the entire time and he’d never noticed.

And now it was too late.

***

He gave the sketchbook to Raven, and asked her to deliver it to Clarke.

“Why can’t you?” She said, ignoring his hand as he held it out to her.

He closed his eyes, holding the book further away from his body. “Please. Just take it.”

Reluctantly, aggressively, she did, setting it on her desk before folding her arms against her chest. “Why won’t either of you tell us what’s going on?”

He dropped his weight into her desk chair, pushing his hands through his hair. “Nothing’s going on. Anymore.” The last word was bitter, choking him as it climbed up his throat.

“But something was.”

He looked up at her, seeing understanding in her eyes where he normally saw indifference.

He swallowed. “Yeah. But I fucked it up. I fucked it up, and now I have to deal with it, so if you could please just give that back to her because just looking at it makes me want to blow my goddamn brains out and—“

“Hey.” She crouched in front of him, resting her palms on his knees. His inhale was sharp, meeting her small smile. “I’ll take care of it, okay?”

He nodded, no longer trusting his voice. He placed his hand on top of hers for a moment, then stood, trudging towards the door.

“Just so you know,” he paused at her words, halfway out the door. “You’re not the only one who feels like blowing their brains out.”

He bobbed his head, and shut the door behind him.

***

The laundry room was quiet, especially for the middle of the day. The weak February sun glinted off the machines, giving the space a slight glow.

The couch was comfortable beneath him as he typed dutifully at his computer. He flipped a few pages ahead in the book he was referencing, looking for a specific phrase, tongue between his teeth.

He didn’t realize he was muttering until the knock at the door stopped him.

The sight of her took the breath from his lungs, and he clenched his jaw against it. He looked back to his studies, refusing to acknowledge how her hair framed her face or the way her sweater hugged her waist.

“Can I come in?”

He swiped his nose with his thumb, pausing. “It is a public space.”

He thought that by acting like a dick she would leave, which was stupid, because it wasn’t like he wanted her to.

The cushion sank a little under her weight, and he tried not to count the inches between their thighs. Or think about the last time they were on this couch.

There was a brutal moment of complete silence, before she picked at a thread on her leggings and exhaled. “Raven gave me back the sketchbook.”

“Good. I asked her to.”

“She told me.”

“Good.” He was staring at his computer, but the words suddenly didn’t make any sense.

“Did you look at it?”

“I can’t see why that matters.”

“But you did.”

“I didn’t say—“

“And now you know.”

He didn’t have to ask her to clarify. She leaned back against the couch, clasping her hands over her stomach, and he swallowed. She had him right where she wanted him, and they both knew it.

“I broke up with Finn.”

Ignoring the leap in his chest, he scoffed. “I’ve heard that one before.”

“Why are you acting like this?” She was curious, not a trace of hurt in her voice.

“We’ve been down this road before, Clarke. I think we both remember how it ended.”

She sat up. “But now you know.”

“Know what, exactly?” He’d officially given up on his essay. “That you like to draw me? That I look good on paper? I hardly think that counts as a basis for a relationship.”

She was moving closer, and he had to seriously focus on breathing to make sure he didn’t stop. “You know how I feel, Bellamy. You’ve always known.”

He turned away, sighing. “I thought I did.”

Her hands met either side of his face, and he repressed a shiver at the sudden contact. He allowed her to turn his face towards her, and he was immediately disgusted with himself when he saw tears shining in her eyes.

“Why is it so hard for you to believe that I have feelings for you?”

Her words were strained, and he shook his head, already feeling his throat go raw, covering her hand with one of his own. He used the other to thumb away a tear that slipped down her cheek.

“I don’t know.” His voice was scarcely a whisper. “It just—it feels like too much, Clarke. I just can’t imagine that you would want to give that to me; that you would trust me that much. Why would you choose me? Of all people?”

Her laugh was watery. “Why would you choose me, Bellamy?”

The sound he made was somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and he couldn’t help himself from taking her face between her hands, leaning his forehead against hers. “How could I not, Clarke? You’re talented and smart and funny and you put up with me of all people and—“

“I have a rockin’ bod?” It was a joke, but there was a layer of hurt beneath it, testing his answer.

“Honestly?” He bumped his nose against hers. “That’s a pretty low item on the list.”

She kissed him, and suddenly a fire ignited in his chest, warming him from the inside. He pushed closer, until eventually he was laying on top of her, her leg hooked around his thigh.

“I’m so sorry, Clarke.” He panted, bracing himself above her as he caught his breath. “For everything I said and did and didn’t do, I didn’t mean any of it. I was stupid and reckless and scared and I’m so, so sorry.”

She pressed her lips against his chin, cradling his jaw with her fingertips. “Unfortunately, I think one of the reasons I like you so much is because of how stupid and reckless you are.”

He smiled, and ducked down to nuzzle her neck. “Yeah? What else do you like about me?”

She arched against him as she began her list. “Your hair, your eyes, your hands—“ she swallowed. “—your kindness, your smarts—“

He leaned back to look at her, and she rolled her eyes. “And your dick. Obviously.”

He choked on a laugh, then teased her sides where he knew she was ticklish, causing a burst of laughter to erupt from her throat.

“Bellamy, quit it!” She screamed, trying to capture his hands with her own. “Why do all boys think tickling is cute?”

The laughter died in his throat as he thought of one particular boy, and he coughed, moving off of her awkwardly. But she grabbed his forearm at the last second, keeping him planted where he was.

“I never slept with him after you, Bellamy.” Her grip squeezed a little tighter. “The first time I saw him again was at the party, and I only let him touch me because I knew you were watching.”

He sighed, joy and regret pulling through his veins as he looked up at the ceiling before resting his eyes on hers again. “Even if you had slept with him, it wouldn’t be my place to be angry or jealous.”

She tugged his arm, causing him to lose his balance and fall back on top of her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him against her. “I kind of like it when you’re jealous.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good, because I’ve basically wanted to bash his teeth in since the first time you broke up with him.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He leaned closer, their mouths a breath away from each other. “Yeah.”

Their lips had barely met before a startled cry broke them apart. “I knew it!”

Bellamy scrambled off of Clarke as Miller stood in the doorway, clapping in delight. Anya and Raven stood behind him, knowing smirks on both their faces. Clarke looked at him, trying to contain her smile.

He shook his head, huffing a laugh. “You didn’t know shit, Miller.”

Suddenly, the three of them descended upon the couch, trying to kill them or congratulate them, Bellamy wasn’t sure. He met Clarke’s eyes through the mayhem, and the smile on her face made his heart thrum a little bit harder, a little bit faster.

“To the laundry room!” Miller cheered, and they all echoed him, shouting and shoving each other until the couch groaned beneath them.

Bellamy was smiling so hard it hurt, and when he felt Clarke grasp his hand, he knew everything was going to be just fine.