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Bellamy has absolutely no intention of keeping the kittens, no matter what his sister says.
Granted, Octavia's entire thought process seems to have been that once he saw the kittens, he would be unable to resist them, which honestly isn't much of a plan. Obviously the kittens are adorable and he likes them, but they're kittens. If he takes them to a shelter, they'll be adopted in under ten minutes, which means he doesn't even have to feel guilty about not keeping them. They're going to be fine. Better off, even, then they would be with him and Octavia.
But he can’t get a close enough, cheap enough Zipcar until Sunday, so he has to take care of them for a day and a half first.
“You’re totally going to fall in love with them, Bell!” his sister insists. At twelve, she’s insistent about basically everything, and he’s already dreading her becoming somehow even worse as a teenager.
“I’m totally going to take these expenses out of your allowance,” he grumbles. “Are you coming to the store or what?”
“We can’t leave them alone,” she says, and before he can point out that they absolutely can, she adds, “They might wreck the apartment.”
That one’s legit. “Fine. You stay here with the cats. If they pee, clean it up. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
Bellamy has nothing against cats, in theory. He likes animals, and pets always seemed like a cool thing to have in theory. But they felt like something he’d get when he was older and less broke; he’s already fretting about how much all these supplies are going to cost, even for just a couple days.
There’s a small pet supply store just off campus, and while Bellamy’s never been in there, he passes it on his way to and from class. It’ll be more expensive than Amazon or Petsmart, but it has the advantage of being close and already familiar. It’s his fastest option, which is currently synonymous with best.
And, as it turns out, it also has Clarke Griffin.
Clarke was in his Greek tragedy course last semester, and by the end of the class, he liked her a lot more than he expected to at the start. At first, in fact, he’d been pretty sure he was going to murder her, given how they argued, but they’d had to work on a presentation together, and by the end of their all-nighter, they’d found out they actually got along.
Then the class ended, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to keep talking to her. He’s busy; he has classes and jobs and a sister. Socializing isn’t really a top priority.
But it’s always nice to see her.
Apparently she feels the same, because she straightens and offers him a bright smile. “Hey!”
He leans on the counter, trying not to smile too hard. “Hey. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here either. At least I have an excuse, I’m working. What do you need?”
There’s no point in beating around the bush. “My sister found a couple stray kittens on her way home from school and adopted them. I need to keep them alive until I can bring them to the shelter on Sunday.”
“To the shelter?” she asks, like this is not only shocking, but somewhat offensive.
“They’re kittens. I’m pretty sure they’ll get adopted as soon as they walk in the door. They’re tiny and adorable.”
“And you don’t want them?” It’s less accusatory, but she still seems to feel he’s basically in the wrong here. As if not keeping these kittens is a personal failing.
He rubs his face. “They’ll be a lot of work, and my sister’s going to get tired of doing any of it in a week, and then I’m going to have two kittens to take care of all by myself.” As soon as he’s said it, he realizes what he’s given away, and Clarke does too, cocking her head with a frown. “Our, uh—our mom died last year, it’s just me and her. I don’t know a thing about kittens, I have no fucking clue where to start, and I’ve got enough else going on.”
“Okay, well, I can help with that. You are at a pet store. You’re keeping them until Sunday?”
He lets out a soft breath. No argument, no more trying to talk him out of it. “Yeah. I got a Zipcar to take them in around one, that was the earliest I could find one close by.”
“How big are they? That should help us figure out how old they are and what food they should be eating.”
As he tells her all he currently knows about the kittens—which is really not a lot—she finds him the basics, kitten chow and litter box, a couple cheap toys to keep them occupied while he has them.
“Do you think there’s a chance you might keep them?” she asks, looking at him like she’s doing complicated calculations.
It’s not a look he can trust. “Why?”
“Because right now, I’m going budget. Cheap litter box, small bags of food and litter, just to tide you over. But kittens are cute and you’ve got, what, forty hours before you get rid of them? You might get attached. And if you do, you might as well get the good stuff now.”
“I feel like you’re trying to upsell me,” he says, wary, but he does get what she means. If he changes his mind, he’s going to come back and buy better shit, and it’s cheaper if he just buys good stuff from the start.
“If it helps, you’re getting my employee discount,” she says. “But I’d at least buy a covered litter box. Otherwise you’re going to be finding kitty litter across the room for months.”
“You make a compelling argument,” he admits. “I’m going to end up with cats, aren’t I?”
“They sound tiny and adorable.”
“They are, yeah.”
She pats his shoulder. “It’s a lot easier than ending up with dogs, if it helps.”
“Not as much as I’d like.” He offers her a somewhat crooked smile. “Thanks for the help. I think.”
“I’m being selfish,” she says, easy. “I love cats, and I can’t have any in the dorm. But if you have cats—“
It's not an angle he'd considered, and he tries not to let his face give away his delight too much. "So, I should keep the cats so you can hang out with them?"
"You could probably rent them out. Therapy kittens. Stressed college students come and get to--" She pauses. "Okay, that assumes the cats are actually social. My cats at home run under the sofa whenever strangers come over, so that might not work. But they'd get used to me."
On the one hand, it would be absolutely, incredibly, and inescapably stupid to keep two kittens just because he thinks it might give him an excuse to hang out with a girl. Pets are living creatures, and a lot of responsibility, and adopting them isn't something to just do on a whim. It's not fair.
Still, he's already caring for a living human being; it’s not like he's not irresponsible. And the cats might be nice.
Plus, she's a really hot girl. Not to be shallow or anything.
"I'll see how it goes tomorrow," he says. "But they are kittens. I might not be able to resist."
She smiles. "Yeah, I'm hoping you can't."
*
Clarke texts the next afternoon, an hour before he finishes work, a simple: How are the kittens? It's the first text he's gotten from her in months, and he can't help a grin. Keeping two kittens to get laid is almost definitely worth it. It's been a while.
Me: They were fine when I left this morning
I'm at work right now but my sister was sending me pictures
She's still hoping I'll change my mind
Clarke: There are pictures??
Come on, Bellamy, don't hold out on me
Me: Yeah, that's on me
I should have been texting you cat pictures with no explanation
Clarke: I know that's sarcasm, but you don't have to justify sending cat pictures
Just do it
He sends her all the pictures Octavia's sent him, which is a lot, even if the quality is low. The kittens are adorable, both black, but one has a white tip on its tail so he can at least still tell them apart. He still hasn't had time to figure out their genders--it doesn't feel like a priority, not when he's still not sure he's keeping them--but he doesn't mind just calling them both "cat" for now.
Names would definitely be dangerous.
Me: My sister claims they're being "good"
But I'm still dreading going home and seeing what my couch looks like
Clarke: When are you done with work?
Me: Four
Clarke: Where do you work?
Me: Roan's Roasts
Clarke: On Third?
Me: Yeah
Clarke: If you want cat backup, I'll come over and check the damage with you
Selflessly
Not because I want to see the kittens in person
Just out of the goodness of my heart
Me: Uh huh
Clarke: You can say no, btw
I won't be offended
It's not your job to supply me with cats
Me: I was just going to say, you don't have to volunteer
I can handle this on my own
Clarke: I lied, I was going to be really offended if you said no
Me: Awesome
Feel free to come over whenever
The last hour of the day usually drags, and knowing he's going to see Clarke at the end of his shift doesn't help at all. He's practically vibrating with nervous excitement, glancing at his phone half to check the time and half to see if she's texted. She doesn't know where he lives, unless she’s been stalking him, and he's not sure if she's planning to come meet him or ask when he's home or what. Still, he can't help feeling encouraged. If nothing else, she wants to spend more time with him and willing to make the first move. If he wants to hang out with her, he’s not being a creep.
She likes him too.
It's 3:52 when she comes in, dressed in jeans and a henley, with a streak of purple in her hair that wasn't there the previous night. She had red when they were in class together, and then blue, the color never lasting for more than a week or two, but it still makes him smile. Clarke is, in general, kind of overly serious and uptight, and he can't help suspecting that dyeing her hair is a somewhat calculated move to make it seem like she's more "fun." It's not fooling him, but it's still kind of adorable.
"Hey," he says. "Are you expecting to get my employee discount too?"
"Fair's fair, right?" she asks, but the light tone doesn't last. Her confidence flags, and she looks nervous. "Sorry, I wanted coffee and I wasn't doing anything, but if you don't actually want me to come home with you--"
"No, I definitely want that," he says. "What do you want to drink? I actually have a comp drink I can give you."
"Wow, the star treatment."
"If you're going to help me with the cats, it's the least I can do."
"Yeah, I'm a saint." She scans the menu quickly and gives him her order, leaning on the counter as he makes it for her. "How were they last night? The cats."
"Not terrible. One of them wanted to sleep with me, that was cute. I think the other one was on the couch. O's kind of pissed."
"O?"
"My sister. She wanted them to hang out with her, but I guess they know I'm the one they need to convince."
He slides her the drink and she takes a sip, thoughtful. "How old is she? Your sister."
"Twelve."
"And you're--"
"Twenty."
"Big gap."
He shrugs, starts cleaning the espresso machine so he won't be just slacking off for the last few minutes of his shift. "My dad died when I was--two or three? Around there. And my mom was single for a while, then she dated some assholes, gave up for a few years. When O's dad came along, she thought she'd met a good one, but he was gone as soon as she told him she was pregnant."
"Can I ask what happened to her?"
"She was sick and thought she'd get better. She didn't. By the time she decided it was bad enough for her to go to the hospital, it was too late for them to do anything."
"I'm sorry," she offers. "Are you guys--it's just the two of you?"
"Well, now we have cats too.”
To his relief, she doesn't ask any of the standard follow-up questions about how he supports them and if it's hard, but it's not really a surprise either. The first time he realized Clarke was actually good at reading him, it was alarming, but that was last semester. He expects it now.
Instead, she says, "So, you're definitely keeping them?"
"Honestly, I don't know how to decide. They're cute, we could probably afford it, but it's not like we need them. And I feel like they could do better."
"Better?"
"I told you, they're kittens. You saw the pictures. They'd get adopted in a second. Somewhere nice."
It feels like too much honesty, but Clarke doesn't push then either. "Let's see how they're doing," she says, pragmatic. "Maybe they're happy with you."
"Thanks." He rubs the back of his neck. "I need to go clock out and get changed, see you in a sec?"
"Sure, I'll meet you out front."
It's March, a week before spring break and fairly warm, and there's something nice about just walking through campus with a girl he likes. Before his mother died, he'd been at a different college, one farther away from home, and between taking a semester off, switching schools, and having a sister to take care of, he had trouble making that many new friends. Losing touch with Clarke after class ended wasn't a surprise, but it would be nice if he could actually figure out how to keep talking to her.
"What are you taking this semester?" he asks, and that conversation gets them back to his place without any trouble. Clarke's always easy to talk to.
"Is your sister's name actually O?" she asks as he's unlocking the front door of their apartment building. “It seems like it would be weird if I called her that.”
"Octavia. But you don’t have to worry about it, she's not home right now. She’s at a friend's house for dinner and a possible sleepover. That's why I'm worrying the cats destroyed everything."
"You should buy them more toys."
"And you're definitely unbiased there."
"I don't work on commission, so yeah, very unbiased."
"I feel so much better."
As soon as the door is open, the kittens are there, mewling at Bellamy as if he's been gone for months and they thought he was dead.
It's kind of cute, he'll admit, and he squats down to greet them before he's even bothered to take off his shoes. "Hi, cats. I know O just left, it hasn't even been that long. If you're going to live here, you need to get used to being alone."
Clarke drops down next to him, and the black-and-white kitten goes over to investigate her, butting its little head against her offered hand once it's been sufficiently sniffed.
She laughs. "Hi. Do you have a name yet?"
"I don't even know the gender. And I'm not naming them unless I'm planning to keep them."
"Which you're not?"
"Still deciding," he insists.
"Well, we can figure out genders, if you want."
"As a pet shop employee, are you an expert?"
"Male cats have balls, it's not that hard," she says. "Should I take my shoes off?"
"Please. Do you want anything to drink?"
They get set up on the couch with water, and Clarke flips over the kittens to examine them for genitalia, which she seems to consider normal.
"I'm just saying, I've never looked at a cat's junk before," he says. “And it’s weird that you have.”
"Well, good news, you still haven't," says Clarke, bright. "They're both girls, no junk to see. They're really cute.'
"They are. That doesn't mean I'm keeping them."
"Where did your sister get them again?"
"Good question. She claims she found them, but I'm not convinced."
"No?"
He reaches over to rub the black kitten's stomach as she writhes contentedly in Clarke's lap. "I don't pay a ton of attention, but I think I heard one of her friends' cats had kittens a few months ago. I didn't think she'd take two and lie about it, but--"
"You think her friend's parents would give her two cats without their permission?"
"I think my sister's a little sneak," he grumbles.
"And she's okay with you giving them away?"
"She doesn't think I'm going to go through with it." He glances sidelong at Clarke. "I know you don't either."
“Not that, just—do you want the cats?”
“I don’t think I should be encouraging O lying about shit.”
Clarke pokes his side. “Bellamy. Do you want the cats? Forget about your sister for a second. Do you, personally, want to keep these two adorable kittens?”
“I think you’re trying to skew these results,” he grumbles, but it’s not like she needs to. “Yes, I want the kittens. I could name them Shuri and Nakia,” he adds. He has possibly spent the last day coming up all the possible Black Panther names he wanted to use; he might even have been hoping for two girls. Shuri and Nakia were his favorites.
“You could. You should also get your sister to tell you where she really got them and if they need shots.”
He frowns and flops back on the couch, and one of the kittens shoves her head under his hand, making him pet her.
“I don’t need two cats.”
“You can still want two cats. And I want you to have two cats.”
“Yeah, I really don’t think you’re a neutral third party here. You know if I have any questions about anything, I’m going to call you, right? You’re my official cat expert.”
“Do I get to come see the kittens whenever I want?”
“Within reason. I probably need to be home and awake.”
“Deal,” she says. “So, which one is Shuri and which one is Nakia?”
And just like that, Bellamy has cats.
*
“We’re keeping the kittens,” he tells Octavia, when she gets home. He and Clarke got dinner and watched a couple episodes of Bob’s Burgers, which he’s going to count as his best date in a while, even if it’s not official.
But O’s sleepover didn’t happen, so he sent her home. It seemed safer than dealing with the teasing with Clarke around.
“Not because of you,” he adds, before she can brag. “I would have given them away, but this girl I like found out and I want her to come over more.”
“You’re going to use the kittens to get laid?” she asks. “That’s the grossest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Good, I’m glad I’ve kept you so sheltered.” He fixes her with a hard look. “I need you to tell me where you really got the cats, though.”
She frowns. “I told you, I found them. They were in the alley by the corner store, meowing. I came home and got a box and some cat food for them. Where do you think I got them?”
If she’s lying, she’s doing a really convincing job of it. “Didn’t one of your friends have a cat who just had kittens?”
“Oh my god, seriously?” she asks, exasperated. “Gail’s dog had puppies, Bell. Like three months ago! You thought I made up a story about finding kittens instead of asking you?”
“You would,” he points out, and she pauses.
“I mean, yeah, I would. But Gail’s parents wouldn’t have just given me kittens without talking to you, so it wouldn’t have worked. They’re really strays. And we’re keeping them,” she adds. “You said.”
He sighs. “Yeah, I already named them. It’s all over.”
*
He uses the Zipcar he got to go to the shelter to go to Petsmart instead. They have a vet on duty, even on Sundays, and he drops way too much money on getting them checked out. He has to come back later and get them fixed too, but they’re too young now, and he spends the afternoon reworking his budget to include cats and texting Clarke.
He finds out she’s working on Tuesday, so he goes in after class for more supplies. He did some price comparison, and with her employee discount, it's basically a wash with Petsmart, and he has to get a Zipcar to Petsmart.
There are probably cheaper ways to get a girlfriend, but he did the math. His crush is mostly financially viable. It's fine.
And the kittens are a bonus, all by themselves. Shuri, the all-black one, is loud and friendly, loves nothing more than following Bellamy around, demanding that he pay attention to her, while Nakia is shyer and quieter, but still sleeps on his bed every night. They both like Octavia, but they still prefer him, and it gives him a small, guilty thrill to be the favorite. They’re his cats.
Octavia's spring break corresponds with his, which is nice on its own, but even nicer is that he managed to get her school sponsorship to go on a trip. He hasn't been alone for a full week since his mother died, and even if he still has work, he's looking forward to all the freedom.
He tells Clarke this over lunch on Friday, which is the other current best thing in his life. They talk about schedules and actually see each other, she uses meal points to buy him lunch every few days, and he's almost totally sure she wants to make out with him.
He gets even more sure when she responds to his news with, "So, I can't come hang out with you on break?"
The question surprises him. "You're not going home?"
She shakes her head, not quite meeting his eyes. "I usually don't."
He nudges her foot under the table with his. "Seriously, that's it? That's all you're giving me?"
"It feels kind of pathetic, compared to you. My dad died when I was in high school, my mom remarried, moved to a new city. I don't mind going back, but it doesn't really feel like home, and that sucks sometimes."
"Yeah, that's not nearly as sad as the story of how my mom died," he teases, and she laughs. "You can come over whenever you want," he adds. "Just let me know.
Judging from her smile, she absolutely wants to make out. No question.
Spring break is shaping up to be great.
He sends Octavia off early the next morning, surprising himself with his lack of jealousy. She's going to England and France and he’s never even left the country, but the time to himself is a pretty great consolation prize that gets even better when Clarke texts, Are you awake? at ten.
Me: Yeah, had to take my sister to the airport
Are you bored already?
Clarke: Yeah
And you said you weren't working today
Me: Planning to hang out for a while?
Clarke: If you don't mind
Me: Nope
You're welcome whenever
Clarke: Cool
Do you like coffee?
As presumptuous as it feels, he spends the next twenty minutes making sure his bedroom isn't a total disaster, just in case Clarke for some reason wants to see it, and then doing the same thing for all the other rooms he can manage.
It's not until he opens the door for her that he realizes he failed to do it for himself; after he got back from dropping Octavia off, he changed into his pajamas in expectation of a day on his own, and now here he is, smiling awkwardly at the girl he has a crush on in his dorky glasses, plaid pajama pants, and a tank top that says "Sun's out, guns out" that his best friend bought him as a joke.
"The sun isn't actually out," Clarke says, by way of greeting.
"It's more a state of mind."
She bites the corner of her mouth, smiling. "Obviously. Coffee," she adds, holding up a cup for him.
"Thanks. Sorry I forgot I wasn't actually presentable for human company."
"That’s not really what I was thinking."
"No?"
"Honestly, you should show off your guns a lot more. I had no idea."
He laughs. "Yeah?"
"Stealth muscles."
"I thought I was being pretty obvious."
"Nope. Definitely work on your wardrobe."
"You already saw, so I'm probably good. I don’t really need anyone else to know.”
She smiles at that, and it's all he needs. He puts his coffee aside, takes hers out of her hands, and she's ready for him when he leans in, winding her arms around his neck and leaning up into the kiss. She's warm and tastes vaguely like coffee, and if all of his non-work time on spring break is spent hooking up with Clarke Griffin, it will without a doubt be his best spring break ever.
"You know, you didn't even ask how the cats were doing," he murmurs, smiling against her lips.
"The cats aren't actually the draw, Bellamy."
He grins. "I was hoping you'd say that."
*
Clarke officially moves in a week before their senior year, and she starts off right by tripping over one of the cats in the middle of the night and waking up the whole household.
"You already basically lived here," Octavia grumbles the next morning. Nakia is, generally, a fairly quiet cat, but when startled, she can make a lot of noise. Bellamy honestly thought someone was getting murdered, and it took everyone way too long to get back to sleep for this morning to be anything but hell.
Clarke glares, less at O and more at the world. Bellamy refills her coffee, just to be safe. "And?"
"How have you not learned to navigate around the cats yet?"
"It's not my fault, they're pissed about all the moving stuff," says Clarke, and that's definitely true; Shuri peed on the rug the other day out of pure spite.
"So they're trying to kill you?"
"I wouldn't put it past them. They're criminal masterminds."
Bellamy snorts, and Octavia turns her bad mood on him. "Don't act like you're so above this, I heard you swearing last night."
"You guys are the ones who wanted cats," he points out. "I was going to get rid of them. None of this is my fault."
"You just kept them to get laid," says Octavia, and he shrugs.
"It worked, I get laid all the time. I think I can live through a couple bad days. What, did you want to give them away?”
Her scowl deepens; teenage Octavia is basically just as bad as he feared. But at least he has a lot of backup. “Of course not. I’m just saying, it’s not fair. I found the cats, and you got all the good parts. All I get is grief.”
“Yeah, your life sucks. I’m so sorry.”
“You are not.”
He smirks, steals a piece of her bacon for good measure. “Nope, I'm not. I wouldn’t change a thing.”