Chapter Text
Octavia eases her key into the lock and lets the door to her new dorm swing open. Bellamy is behind her, his face sour, grumbling under his breath as he struggles to hold up the over-loaded cardboard box in his arms. Miller is just behind him, just as burdened by her stuff, but managing to keep his nasty comments to himself. Octavia herself has only her jacket and a backpack (but that was allowed because she had to find the room and open the door). The rest of her stuff is still in Bellamy’s truck, packed properly and labelled, because Octavia remembers the fiasco that was helping the boys set up for college.
The room itself is plain and simple, the standard for dorms on campus. Beige walls and a drab grey carpet. That isn’t the surprising part. What is surprising is the fact that one half has already been taken over, things laid out neatly on one of the desks, one of the beds made with bright sheets, and a poster up on the wall. Her roommate, however, is nowhere to be seen.
“Guess I’m having this side, then.”
Octavia calls over her shoulder for the boys to dump her stuff on the free bed, then sets to work unpacking as they trudge off to get more boxes. When they’re gone Octavia can’t resist looking at the far side of the room more carefully, abandoning the boxes so she can snoop.
The sheets on the bed are brand new, with the package induced creases still present, but the poster on the wall is frayed at the edges. It was of Niagara Falls, the sun-faded water turned a strange green and the sky almost yellow. The desk is meticulously clean, a laptop in the centre and half a dozen pots of pens and pencils next to it. The only clutter is a haphazard pile of books – fiction, not textbooks – on the bedside table, and an open pack of sweets on the bed. The room looks very lived in, despite the ordered nature.
Octavia can’t quite get an exact read of what her new roommate will be like, not on so few things, but it was clear she was neat and tidy. After years of living with only her brother and all of his extremely boyish friends around, that sat with Octavia just fine.
Bellamy and Miller come back with more boxes as she’s just finishing packing away the two they’d brought first, and since there was only one more left to get, it’s only Miller who leaves the room again. Bellamy flops down onto her unmade bed, letting out a whoosh of breath. He turns his head to look at Octavia’s roommate’s side, looking out from underneath his messy mop of hair.
“Huh. Wonder if she’s as big a bitch as the one Harper got first year.”
Octavia ignores him, digging through the boxes and pulling things out. There’s several photo frames in one of the boxes, of her and her friends and one of her family too (it’s of her and Bell and her mother, taken before the boyfriends got steadily worse and worse). She tosses one at Bellamy - Jasper and Monty with red eyes and Octavia clasping a cup of Monty’s homebrew - and when it lands on his stomach he lets out a small ‘oof’.
“See what you can do about these, Bell.”
He’s tapping along the wall trying to find a good spot to hang them when the door opens again. Octavia assumes it’s Miller, so looks up with a question half out of her mouth, only to back pedal slightly when she’s met with the surprised face of a blonde woman she definitely doesn’t know.
“You’re not Miller.”
The woman’s face crinkles into a smile almost immediately. By the way it sort of jerks into being, Octavia is inclined to think that she hasn’t smiled in a while.
“No, I’m not. You Octavia Blake?”
She kicks the door to a close behind her, a sketchbook in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other. She’s dressed for the cold, despite it being only September, with a thick sweater that ends halfway down her thighs and a woolly scarf wrapped around her neck. Her hair is piled on top of her head, and she looks over at Octavia with scarily blue eyes. Octavia has a feeling that this woman has the ability to look at her and know anything about her. The smile that’s still on her face lessens the effect slightly, but she still seems slightly terrifying, so Octavia guesses that she must just have an air about her.
Bellamy turns from the wall to stare at her too. The woman looks over at him with an eyebrow raised, then back over to Octavia. Objectively, Octavia can see that she’s attractive, having the whole blonde-hair-blue-eyes thing going on, a nice figure and a very symmetrical face. She also looks far too well put together and confident to be a freshman like Octavia. Bellamy can obviously see the woman’s appeal too, as his lips are parted slightly and his eyes are looking over her in a way that isn’t entirely PG. Octavia makes a noise of disgust that he doesn’t seem to hear.
“Yeah, that’s me.” Octavia says in the vain hope of getting her brother to stop ogling the poor woman. She throws out an arm and pats Bellamy’s arm. “This is my brother Bellamy.”
“Clarke Griffin: your roommate.”
Octavia thinks for a moment that Clarke is strange name for a girl, then remembers suddenly that she’s called Octavia and isn’t really in a position to discuss peculiar names.
The woman, Clarke, puts down her things on the desk, pulling a pencil from behind her ears and slotting it back into one of the pots. The scarf comes off, and Octavia is still staring at the woman. Clarke looks up at her, the smile lessening slightly as she meets Octavia’s eyes. Octavia isn’t quite sure what Clarke sees when she looks at her, but it’s enough to make her smile flare up again. Bellamy looks like he wants to say something – probably to start interrogating Clarke on her suitability of being Octavia’s roommate, but Clarke speaks up before her brother can begin throwing questions about.
“You need any help setting up, or getting anywhere? I’ve been here a few days now.” Clarke says, sitting down on her own bed.
“No. I mean, no thanks. My brother goes here, so I’ve got him for directions, and I’ve enough people to help sort the rest out.” Clarke nods and looks away, hands reaching for the pack of sweets. Octavia bites the bullet. “Sorry, but you look a little old to be a freshman.”
Clarke’s head whips up and she blinks at Octavia’s bluntness then smiles wryly and laughs. Bellamy is looking away from his sister in mute horror, but she catches him glancing at Clarke in interest. Clarke grins earnestly, and she moves from pretty to just short of breath-taking. Octavia is suddenly very glad that Jasper and Monty aren’t there to see Clarke, as right now they’d take one look at her and declare their undying love.
“Yeah. This is my second try at college.”
“Where’d you go the first time?”
“Yale. I was pre-med.”
Octavia stares at Clarke open mouthed, and Bellamy snorts and asks her gruffly, “You came all the way from Yale to here?”
Clarke tilts her head at Octavia’s brother, her lips pursed slightly and her eyebrows raised. It’s clear that Bellamy is very distracted by the look her roommate is giving him. “Ark U isn’t so bad.”
“Yale, princess.”
The woman on the bed blinks completely uncomprehendingly at Bellamy, her jaw jutting out a fraction as she stares him out, then shrugs.
Bellamy looks utterly perplexed, probably stuck between calling Clarke stupid, demanding to know why she travelled almost three-thousand miles from Connecticut to get to Ark, Washington, and wondering where the hell princess came from.
Octavia’s mind is firmly stuck on the fact that her brother just called her roommate princess. They’re saved from any awkwardness by a knock on the door. Octavia hurries towards it, throwing Clarke a grin.
Miller has the final box in his hands, a duffel bag balanced carefully on top. His beanie is askew and he looks out of breath. Octavia looks back over to Clarke with a smile, throwing the door open wide so she can see Miller.
“Clarke, this is Miller, Bellamy’s best friend and basically my second older brother. Miller, this is Clarke, my roommate.”
“N’aww, O, you’re so cute. Now move, this box is fucking heavy.”
Clarke looks Miller over too, her eyes curious and assessing. “You go here too, Miller?” She asks, her voice light.
“Nah, Police Academy in town.”
She seems surprised by the answer, but then her whole expression eases back into an easy smile. Clarke stands and moves over to her desk, picking up her coffee and cradling it in her hands.
“Sorry to dash, but I’ve got a hot date with the library, so I’ll see you later, Octavia.”
“You’re studying already?”
Clarke shrugs again, the gesture effortless and graceful. Octavia is weirdly very jealous.
“I need some more reference books. Art History needs a ridiculous amount of sources.”
Bellamy’s eyes widen and he snorts again. “You left Yale pre-med to come here and do Art History?”
Clarke finally seems irritated by Bellamy, catching up with what everyone else has been feeling for over a decade – two, for poor Miller and Murphy. She shifts her weight to one leg and props the hand not holding coffee at her waist. She narrows her eyes and tips her head back slightly so she can look at him down her nose. For a moment Octavia feels slight indignation at someone starting an argument with her brother, but Clarke seems completely ready to put Bellamy in his place, so she decides to sit back and watch it play out.
“What do you have against your own college, Bellamy?”
“Well, it’s no Yale.” He says it as if Clarke is incredibly stupid, and alarmingly enough Octavia can see the beginning of a snarl on Clarke’s face.
“I’m sorry, next time I choose where to study I’ll make sure to consult you.” Sarcasm drips off of her voice, and Bellamy visibly tenses at it, drawing himself up for a fight. Miller looks at her in alarm. Octavia recognises the look Bellamy has on his face too, the one that usually heralds fist fights and bloody noses.
“Choose? You chose backwater Washington over one of the top colleges in the US. Obviously you need to consult someone.”
Just like that Clarke’s face shutters close, her expression dropping away completely.
“When you know enough about me, Bellamy Blake, then you can fucking judge.”
Octavia punches her brother solidly in the arm, and Miller is seemingly torn between laughing and wondering what just happened.
“Bellamy, shut the fuck up.” Clarke is already gone by the time Octavia’s speaking, and so she rushes out of the dorm after throwing Bellamy one last venomous glare. Clarke is close to storming down the hall, coffee clenched tightly in her hand.
“Hey, Clarke! Hey, slow down!” She does turn at the sound of Octavia’s voice, her face blank.
“I’m so sorry about him, I don’t know why he’s such a massive dick. I mean he’s a dick normally, that’s kind of who he is as a person, but he’s only just met you so I don’t know why he is now. It’s not like you even said anything, either, Christ. I’ll make him apologise. I –shit, I’m so sorry.” At her garbled apology Clarke’s face warms up some, her mouth twisting in a small smile. She stares into her coffee, her shoulders a sad curve.
“It’s not entirely his fault.” Clarke says quietly. “It’s just, what he said, it hit a little too close to…” She sighs and runs a hand over her face. It’s then Octavia gets a look at her closely and properly, and can see the faint bruises under her eyes and the way her face always sets back into something hard and steely.
“Ah. Bad reasons for leaving?”
Clarke’s laugh is bark of unhappiness. “Several.” She says goodbye to Octavia again, then is lost in the crowd of students and families crowding the halls.
Miller is pulling books out of a box and sorting them hesitantly on her desk, lining them alphabetically first, then by subject, then flicking back to alphabetically. He looks up when she comes in, sees the fury on her face, then looks away quickly. She can hear him mutter something to Bellamy, whose shoulders tense even more than they did when she first opened the door then slammed it shut.
Bellamy has his back to her, having gone back to tapping the wall. Octavia waits for him to turn around, which he does after Miller thumps him. He meets her eyes steadily, but a lifetime of being angry at Bellamy Blake has taught Octavia to tell the difference between him being calm, him being completely wound up, and him waiting for the storm to blow over. Currently he’s the second one, but there is fear steadily creeping into his eyes as he actually looks at her.
Octavia has both of her fists planted at her hips, thumbs out and ready to start swinging. He snorts.
“What the hell was wrong with her?”
Miller cringes.
“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, BELL?”
“What? I barely said anything!”
“We’ve literally just met her and you’ve already belittled her life choices, laughed at her college course, and called her princess. Princess, Bellamy? Really? How fucking old are you?”
Miller seems to choke on air. “Princess? Bell tried to hit on your roommate? Your roommate who is the same age as you and thus five years younger than him?”
Octavia shakes her head, “She’s not my age, at least – but that’s not the point! The fact that you’re were horribly patronising and criticised her despite knowing her all of thirty seconds is the point!”
Bellamy flushes horribly, the colour rushing into his tanned cheeks and making his freckles stand out. He pushes a hand through his messy hair, making the thick curls stand up even worse.
“I didn’t – it wasn’t like I meant to call her princess!”
“So you just throw out endearments on the casual, yeah?” Miller is enjoying this thoroughly, leaning against Octavia’s desk and folding his arms. Octavia wants to meet his grin, hardly ever missing out on the opportunity to tease her brother (eighteen years of merciless embarrassment is a lot to make up for) but she wipes her face to stare Bellamy down. She may not know Clarke Griffin, but she knows how much of an asshole her brother can be.
“Seriously, Bell. What even happened?”
“I – I don’t know. She just,” Bellamy makes a noise of frustration “She rubbed me up the wrong way is all. She left Yale to come out here and study art. Who the hell even does that?”
“She does, apparently.” Miller says. Octavia nods in agreement.
“Yes, Clarke Griffin does. So the next time you see Clarke Griffin, you are going to apologise.”
“O-”
“I don’t care whether you’re in the caf, in an aisle in the library, or in some fucking club in town. Next time you see her you get on your damn knees and say sorry.”
“O, I’m not getting on my fucking knees for her. It’s not my fault princess is so damn touchy.”
Miller is shaking his head, his grin growing impossibly wider. Bellamy is staring down at his little sister like she’s just suggested he shave his head and dance in his boxers. He has his arms folded across his chest obstinately, his jaw set firmly. It’s not good for Octavia’s temper. She takes a step towards him, her fists tightening.
“I have to live with this girl for the next year, Bellamy, so when you apologise you’re gonna make a proper fucking job of it. Or so help me God.” She whirls to Miller, whose smile quickly drops when she jabs a finger at him. “When I get back make sure he has every single one of those pictures up on the wall.”
“What – why, where the hell are you going, Octavia?” Bellamy demands.
“To find someone that I don’t currently want to punch in the face.”
Octavia stomps out of the dorm, already flicking through her texts to find where Japer’s and Monty’s dorm is.