Chapter Text
Dinner with her mother had always been a tentative affair, even as a child. But at that time, her father helped weather Abigail's particular form of stress-inducing love. Affection blending with scrutinization. Their more recent dinner's spent "discussing" (read: disapproving of) Clarke's life choices. Abigail hadn't thought twenty-three-year-old Clarke could handle raising a child. Nor had she thought impulsively inviting the baby's father and his best friends to move in had been a smart idea. That Clarke shouldn't have forgone law school to become a set designer for some indie film company. They could only have the same argument so many times before Clarke wanted to bolt.
During their relationship, Kane helped mediate her mother's tough-love approach, as Clarke's father once had. After the breakup, Abigail's behavior worsened. Analyzing and dissecting every little thing Clarke did as if she were a specimen in a lab. Her mother's marriage to Thelonious Jaha making Abby unbearable. Both looking down on her with their holier-than-thou mindsets.
On the day of their wedding, Abby and Thelonious offered to delay marital bliss if an eight-month pregnant Clarke wanted to marry Murphy instead.
Clarke shifted in her seat, feeling the bare skin of her thighs pulling from the upholstery of the chair. How she hated these dinners. Uncomfortable settings paired with uncomfortable conversations. Often she would feign an issue with Madi; though her mother countered stating there were three others in the home to care for the child. Using the 'but I'm her mother' card could only get one so far.
"Theolonius and I are hosting a party this Friday to celebrate our five years together." Her mother announced, aerating the wine in her glass. "You may bring John as your date if you wish."
No mention of either Bellamy or Miller being extended an invitation. Both blacklisted from any of Abigail's events for the sheer fact of existing. Her mother providing Murphy an invitation not because she liked him, but because he fathered Madi. In an odd way, Clarke felt her mother often tried to set them up. Again, not because she liked Murphy, but because of Madi: a happy nuclear family of mom, dad, baby. But one mistake from Murphy and he'd be excluded like their roommates. Which is why she believes he tends to decline attending any fundraiser, party, function, etc.
Well, that and the no eyeliner on men at these things thing. A sharp-dressed Murphy includes eyeliner and a dark blue suit with subtle sparkles.
"Unless you found yourself a proper date," her mother prodded. A small crease in her perfectly plucked brow. The contempt dripping from each word.
Abby never approved of their arrangement. Refusing to consider them a family. Her mother notorious for dropping by on the rare occasion and unabashedly mentioning how Bellamy, Murphy, and Miller could find a bachelor pad of their own. And the words "Bachelor pad" used in an actual sentence spoken out loud.
That her living with three unmarried men made Clarke an nonviable option for any possible romantic prospects. How having a baby in the baby carriage before marriage made her dating pool scarce of appropriate partners. It felt as if she were the main character in a Jane Austen novel. Her mother trying to marry her off to the most suitable of suitors - regardless of Clarke's thoughts on the matter. There were days where the name Mrs. Bennett almost rolled off her tongue as she addressed her mother.
Clarke loved living in their chaotic household. She had been the one to ask them to move in - technically after they offered her a room in their loft. The guys pitching to her that she would never be alone in raising Madi. That someone always at home to help. She loved waking up to Murphy making breakfast. Loved listening to Miller's dramatic retellings of whatever emergency he and Bellamy were called out on. (Murphy may be the actor but all three are Dramatic™.) She loved Bellamy unknowingly reading his books aloud. Whispering the words to himself. Loved how the three were with Madi. Made the all too large townhouse feel lived in.
Dragging the slice of zucchini about with her fork, Clarke debated bringing up Finn. He stumbled into the art gallery trying to find something large enough to cover up a poor patch job in the living room. But also something economically priced. Charming smiles and cheesy pick-up lines exchanged over watercolored landscapes.
"I know you think things might just work out with that firefighter but it's been a few years hon, maybe it's time to-"
"I'm seeing someone," Clarke muttered, effectively cutting off whatever nonsense her mother planned to say about Bellamy. "His name's Finn."
Her mother's eyebrow raised once more. Silently questioning whether Finn existed at all. Shifting in her seat again, she felt the pull of skin once more.
"Then bring him on Friday," Abby instructed, pointer and middle fingers raised to flag down their waiter. "Hopefully, you won't waste your fruitful years on this one as well."
Abby's comment ringing in her ears during her Uber home. Waste your fruitful years on this one as well . She hadn't wasted time hoping Bellamy would see her as something other than a friend. As something more than Madi's mother. Had she?
Who even used the phrase 'fruitful years'?
Stepping out from the Uber, she could hear Murphy yelling and Madi cheering from the sidewalk. Through the front window she could see her daughter standing tall, the red Joycon in her hand. Murphy leaned back, his head dropping onto the back of the couch. Madi doing a victory dance as she entered their home.
"She cheats," He grumbled, dropping the blue Joycon onto the cushion. "I don't know how, but she does."
Grabbing the abandoned Joycon, Miller propped his feet up on the coffee table, "Or you just suck."
Madi ran over to hug her tightly before returning to her bean bag chair, wary not miss the start of the race. Murphy and Miller both raised a hand in greeting, their eyes glued to the screen. Clarke proceeded into the kitchen where Bellamy stood with his back turned at the sink. Listening as Murphy told Miller to speed up or he'd lose too.
"How was dinner with Abby dearest?" He asked, placing a pan onto the drying rack.
Grabbing the dish towel, she began drying the cleaned dishes. Hopefully Murphy packaged up some of the risotto he made.
"I'm wasting my fruitful years," Clarke mumbled, continuing to rub the towel over a dried plate.
Bellamy dropped the cup in his hand. Bending at the waist, a hearty laugh ripped from his lips. "Please, please tell me that's an exact quote." He turned his head to the side to look up at her, "We need something new to add to the Abby Sucks list."
Bumping her hip against his, Clarke reached for another dish. "She did get me thinking about what I want."
Clarke knew she wanted more kids. Growing up without siblings often left Clarke feeling alone. On the nights her parents worked late and the babysitters spent their time calling friends on the phone, she often wished for a sibling to keep her company. Even if it said company consisted of fighting over a Beanie Babie or a Littlest Pet Shop figurine. Someone to complain to when Abby became unbearable.
She always knew she'd have kids plural; never wanting her children to feel as lonely as she had. Hopefully before Madi turned twenty-three like Clarke was when she finally got a sibling, Wells.
One of her co-workers left for maternity leave a week prior. The woman excitedly buzzing about her and her husband anticipating the arrival of their third child. And that was something Clarke wanted. Not to say when Clarke took maternity leave, the four weren't abuzz and eager to meet Madi. But she wanted someone to love, to grow old with, to have more kids with.
Clarke glanced over to the chore chart hanging on the wall. 'Murphy, fucking get milk!' written in bold red letters under 'Bellamy - dishes.' The moment she opened her mouth to introduce Finn she knew their family dynamic would shift. And once again she felt that shift. No longer would it be the five of them against the world.
"Abby's having a party for her anniversary on Friday, said I should bring Finn."
A party Bellamy knew Abby would never invite him to.
Shifting off the water, Bellamy turned to her. Wet hands stealing the dishtowel. "Are we happy?"
Was she?
"Yes."
"Then bring Finn," He replied. A brief kiss pressed against the top of her head, "If he makes you happy, go for it."