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“Has anyone seen my tie?”
Jasper’s voice rises, a bit panicked, and Clarke shares a look with Bellamy as she throws open the passenger door of the van. The frantic sounds of zippering coming from the trunk all point to their friend emptying the contents of his bags. She shakes her head and tucks her blue sunglasses into her hair before hopping into the passenger seat. Bellamy looks past her, then hooks a finger into the belt loop of her jean shorts to pull her close, planting a brief, hard kiss on her mouth. It's over before she can even register her own surprise, but she's pretty sure they're both wearing the same shit-eating grin. He winks and heads to the driver's side.
“Seriously guys," Jasper calls again, "it was a gift from Maya. She’s expecting pictures of me in this tie, she’s gonna kill me if I lose it like I lost the socks...”
Still smiling, Clarke tucks does a final check of her own belongings. “I thought you packed it already.”
“I thought so too, but it’s not here.” He scrambles around the back, hopping into the middle row. “Did I leave it on the seat? Remember I was showing it to you yesterday?”
“Mhmm,” she says absentmindedly. “Maybe it fell between the seat cushions.”
Jasper grunts. For a few seconds, the minivan is quiet. Then comes “Aha! I knew it, th- AAAHHHG. What is this?!”
Clarke and Bellamy turn around at the same time to see what’s made Jasper’s voice jump several octaves. She's ready to tease him about what a mess he's made, but when she sees what he's pointing at it feels like the breath's been knocked from her lungs.
Black lace panties lie on the back seat next to Jasper, whose jaw may as well be on the floor. From where she sits, Clarke can make out the red bows on either side, the ones that’d made her grin when she tried them on in the store just two weeks ago.
Fuck.
She starts to look over at Bellamy, then thinks better of it and refocuses on Jasper.
“Where the hell did those come from? The backseat was empty before you showed up,” she accuses, hoping the heat rising in her cheeks will be mistaken for anger. She also wants Bellamy to know she wouldn’t have been that careless. She’d spot-checked the minivan while Jasper got his bags. Then again... had she checked the cushions properly? Until this moment, she hadn't even realized the panties were missing. And yeah, maybe their usual caution had somewhat gone out the window when they decided to take advantage of the huge backseat just a few nights ago.
“Jasper,” Bellamy pushes the brim of his baseball cap up just enough so she can see the glint in his eyes. “You sure those weren’t also a gift from your girlfriend?”
Clarke bites her lip. Jasper turns red, as expected, but lifts his chin defiantly. “I am very aware of what Maya’s underwear looks like, thank you very much. And she hates lace.”
Well.
Now she does chance a peek at Bellamy, but he only shakes his head and extends a hand. “Alright. Hand ‘em over, then.”
Jasper makes a face. “You get them! They’re from your… whoever she was.” He looks at Clarke. “Sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing to me?”
“Well, you know. That you have to hear about this floozy. If they were yours, I’d be thrilled! I mean– no, not– ugh.” He puts his face in his hands as Clarke laughs. “You know what I meant,” he says, muffled, and she reaches back and pats his knee. While his face is still covered, she grabs her panties and shoves them in the purse at her feet.
“What the hell, Bellamy,” Jasper’s still grumbling from the back. “I thought you didn’t do that shit anymore.”
Bellamy leans over to the passenger side to open the glove compartment, brushing Clarke’s arm in the process. “I don’t.”
~~~~~~~~~
The drive out of Florida is uneventful aside from Jasper’s occasional comment about the “mystery lady”. Once or twice the van stutters and groans like it’s decided today is it’s final day, but with a light kick and some coaxing from Bellamy, it rolls on. When they pass over a bump in the road, the van wheezes loudly, and Clarke grins at Jasper's groan from the backseat.
“Are you ever going to get this rust can fixed up?”
Bellamy barely spares him a glance. “She's fine.”
“Still no name, I take it?” It's the beginning of a familiar conversation. “Did you consider Lena? Or what about Agatha, that's old and Greek isn't it?”
“Old and Greek are not my only requirements, Jasper.”
“Could've fooled me,” Jasper mutters. Ten seconds later: “What about Helen?”
Clarke smiles and looks back out the window. Naming Bellamy's van is a popular game, but not one anyone will ever win. The van once belonged to his mother, and now it’s his. Well - his and Octavia’s, at times. Clarke has heard the stories from both siblings: countless mornings waking up before the sun to accompany their mom on her paper route; juggling an assortment of pies and pastries on their temporary catering service; the day trips just to see the ocean on her rare days off. And all the while the van was a constant, sturdy part of their family.
Where O's memories fondly recall Bellamy’s neuroses and the food they tried and the goofy poses she got him to make, Bellamy's all revolve around his mom. Aurora's laugh, her kindness, her innate ability to make you believe it was all going to be okay – they surround him.
That’s how Clarke knows the van already has a name, deep in Bellamy's heart. And no amount of Greek mythology will change that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What’s this I hear about a mystery lady?” Miller wastes no time as he welcomes them into the house. A little dark-haired girl comes flying down the hall, clutching a book in one hand and a stuffed polar bear in the other. One of her braids is unraveling and there’s smudges of what looks like flour on her cheeks. Monty follows with a smile, saying his hellos not without a hint of curiosity.
“Lily-bell, hi! “Clarke gives the girl a high-five and exclaims over her new bear - Marshmallow - for a few minutes, fully ignoring her dads’ knowing glances. Lily proceeds to show off her book to Bellamy next, tugging him upstairs to see the latest additions to her room.
It’s not long before Bellamy rejoins them, and Clarke laughs at the cowboy hat on his head. “Your presence is requested for a tea party,” he says solemnly, and so of course they all follow. As they move through the house, they pass countless pictures of the smiling trio - at the beach, on the swings, under a blanket fort.
Halfway through said tea party, Lily’s snores drift through the air. Monty tucks her into bed with a fond grin, kissing her cheek lightly before sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, his hand reaching down to clasp Miller’s for a moment where he sits on the floor. Jasper’s stretched out on the carpet, his head atop a big plush Totoro. Clarke watches from the armchair as he exchanges a pointed look with Miller. Suppressing her own eyeroll, she glances at Bellamy. To all appearances he’s half-asleep, legs stretched out in front of him and eyes half-lidded, but she knows better.
“Soooo?” Miller’s voice is curious. “Mystery lady? Anyone?”
Clarke narrows her eyes at Jasper. “You have a big mouth.”
“No one said it was a secret,” he retorts, but she sees his throat bob as he looks at Bellamy’s profile. Then he tilts his head at her. “And why do you care, anyways?” He asks innocently.
Clarke fights the urge to stick out her tongue, just barely, and turns to Monty. “So everything's been good with the house?”
As expected, he lights up. “Awesome. We set up my office to be a partial playroom. I’ll show you later. Now I can actually work from home twice a week and still hang out with Lily.” He strokes her hair gently as she wiggles in her sleep, her mouth moving in that cute way only kids do when they’re dreaming.
“That’s great! I’m so happy for you,” Clarke beams. They’d been searching for a bigger house ever since they adopted their little girl over a year ago. And finally, in a little suburb in North Carolina, they’d found it. She, Bellamy, Lincoln and Octavia had trekked down to help them move over a perfect, sunny weekend in June. Lily’s room overlooked their backyard, complete with a bench seat surrounded by her beloved books - several of which had been housewarming gifts from none other than Bellamy.
“Does she still try to help in the kitchen?” Bellamy’s voice is kind, and Clarke smiles over at him.
“All the time. She’s my official taste tester now.” Monty nudges his husband. “We make a huge mess for him to clean up when he gets home.”
“Lots of flour and sugar, but it’s totally worth it. Besides, at least in my house there’s no mysterious underwear in sight,” Miller air high-fives Bellamy with a laugh.
Bellamy just rolls his eyes, but Clarke sees the shadow of a smile at the corners of his mouth.
They all finally muster the energy to tiptoe out of Lily’s room, and through many shushed whispers Clarke finds she’s staying in the guest room while Jasper and Bellamy camp out in the living room. Long after all the lights have been turned off and even the occasional shuffle of footsteps is nowhere to be heard, she’s still awake. She’s counted all the glow-in-the-dark decals on the ceiling, run through every worst-case scenario for the gallery, for the wedding, in her head - and still, nothing.
Raven’s texts about her infuriating - read: hot and distracting - new coworker have kept her entertained for the last hour, but her break’s over and now she’s back to her crazy shift work, leaving Clarke to her thoughts.
At least word about the panties doesn’t seem to have reached Boston yet.
Sighing, Clarke shoves off the covers and pads barefoot to the window seat, wincing at a particularly loud creak in the floorboards. As she’s scrolling through the photo album from her last event, her phone buzzes with a text.
Can’t sleep?
She smiles. Apparently I’m not the only one.
Jasper snores.
I bet. How’s the couch treating you?
I’ve had worse. What’s keeping you up?
She ignores the question. You should have the bed, since you’re doing all the driving.
Your concern is touching, princess.
She shakes her head at his stubbornness. When she doesn’t get another text for five minutes, she assumes he’s fallen asleep. But a minute after she’s crawled back into bed, she hears footsteps outside her room, and then the door opens, quiet on the carpet. Bellamy grins and pushes it shut behind him, sliding into her open arms.
“Hi,” he whispers. His shoulders shake with a silent laugh as she burrows against him with a contented sigh, their legs tangling. “Missed me that much, huh?”
Clarke looks up to retort and instead finds his mouth hard on hers, and there’s silence for a few minutes as she loses herself in his kisses. When they finally part, she’s satisfied to see his hair is a wild mess and his cheeks are flushed, lips slightly parted as he gulps in air about as eagerly as she does. Yeah, no, she doesn’t need air - just him. She tilts her head up for another kiss, breaking away with a giggle when the mattress springs squeak under them.
They’re both still in the sudden silence, waiting, and then they laugh softly at themselves. “See what you do to me,” Bellamy says, affectionate, and nuzzles her cheek. Clarke grins and tugs his hair a little, feeling his pleased hum against her skin.
“What about Jasper?” She asks belatedly, then groans as Bellamy’s eyebrow arches.
“Is that what’s happening here? I mean you know I’m down for anything, but even for you–” he cuts off with a laugh as she pushes him to his back. “I can go get him if you really want,” he stage whispers, and she kisses him just to shut him up.
“You’re so insufferable,” she huffs.
Bellamy grins and leans up to kiss her cheek. “And still you love me,” he says warmly.
Clarke sighs. “Yeah. Afraid so.” Humming contentedly, she stretches her arms around his neck and presses fully against him, her foot inching up his calf. Bellamy groans and bites her lip.
“Not cool, princess.”
“Fair’s fair.” She kisses his nose. “Seriously though, you know you’ll have to go back before he wakes up, right? He’s like a dog with a bone already.”
“It’ll be fine, he sleeps like the dead. I think we deserve a few more minutes, hmm?”
She relents, letting him draw her into a slow-burning kiss. “You're totally enjoying this,” she accuses later.
There’s a slight curl to his mouth. “As if you aren’t,” he challenges.
Clarke purses her lips, trying to appear noncommittal, but Bellamy’s grin only widens. He knows her too well. After all, that's how they ended up fooling around in his car in the first place.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sneaking around hadn’t been intentional. It just sort of… happened. Before their first date, they’d both been so worried about preserving their friendship that neither had considered the alternative - things going well. So they’d remained tight-lipped. As Clarke shyly admitted to Bellamy much later, she’d been scared to entertain the thought for longer than a moment.
“At least your low expectations are consistent,” he joked, but when he pulled her to him, she knew he understood.
Soon they were on date number two, which turned into three, four, and soon she stopped counting, just enjoying the fact that things finally felt right. Now and then they talked about maybe telling the others, but it always trailed off when they couldn’t figure out how or when, or when one of them got distracted (usually by the other) mid-conversation. Bellamy was naturally cautious anyways, and Clarke was less inclined to listen to others crowing about how they always knew it would happen, especially when she wasn’t even sure what it was yet.
All she knew was that this was Bellamy, and nothing else had ever been so important.
Besides, it was fun, too. Rediscovering the city at night, coffee in hand; buying extra makeup to cover up the hickeys on her neck; Bellamy hiding under her covers Saturday morning when Harper Facetimed her in an “emergency” dress situation. Clarke would’ve been lying if she said she didn’t enjoy those moments - their own little secrets, a story only they knew. If Raven hadn’t been so distracted by her own work troubles, Clarke was sure they would’ve been found out, but as life would have it, her friend was dealing with too much to keep up.
So she and Bellamy kept seeing each other, kept letting this careful, wonderful thing between them grow, and outwardly pretended nothing had changed.
It was also easier to avoid the topic given that she, Bellamy and Raven were the only three within a few miles of each other. Miller and Monty had found home in the south; Jasper was in grad school in New York; Murphy and Emori lived in Philly. By some miracle, Raven had found a job in Cambridge, just a short T ride from Clarke’s gallery in Boston (when the T wanted to work). And as much as Bellamy grumbled about his high schoolers while he was student teaching, he’d immediately accepted their offer to fill the spot of history teacher after finishing grad school.
Since the rest of their group had slowly stretched in every direction in search of jobs, school, and new adventures, it wasn’t often that everyone was in the same spot. That’s what happened when life took over, when work and loans and rent barged in, and you just had to make room for them. So the happy hours and sleepovers turned into scheduling Facetime chats and trips over long weekends. So far Clarke and Raven had made it as far as Chicago to see Harper and Zoey. Bellamy had been out to L.A. and driven up the coast as part of Miller’s job hunt. He was forever grateful that his friend ended up on the East coast – Bellamy and planes did not mix very well.
Octavia and Lincoln had decided to travel for a month after she graduated, and came back engaged. She’d made it clear a short engagement was in order, and so it wasn’t long before Clarke got a text, and then a more formal invite, to the Maine wedding.
It was the first huge gathering of all their friends since she and Bellamy had become a couple, and Clarke had no idea what to do. It almost felt weird calling themselves that, since they hadn’t exactly said it out loud to each other. Then Bellamy got invited to a conference down in New Orleans, and when he haltingly suggested to Clarke that she should come along, she found herself kissing him in her kitchen before he could finish his sentence. They burned dinner that night, but Clarke ate every bite.
That was how she found herself nervously stepping off a plane weeks later at Louis Armstrong International Airport, her hand clutching the purple strap of the duffel bag on her shoulder and wondering, somewhat stupidly, if Bellamy would really be on the other side of the gate. It was idiotic, of course. He’d driven down two days earlier - he really did not do planes - and had texted her that he was on his way.
But somehow this, being picked up at an airport hundreds of miles from home by her boyfriend, somehow made everything feel very real.
When she spotted curly dark hair and that familiar, sweet curl of his mouth, she sighed, her own mouth curving up in return. She knew she should move and not just stand in the middle of the terminal in everyone’s way, but her feet didn’t seem to be listening to her brain. Bellamy made his way to her in just a few long strides, a strange look on his face.
“Hi,” Clarke murmured.
“Hi.” His hand curved around the back of her neck, thumb stroking just under her ear. “You made it.”
“In one piece,” she laughed shakily. “I had this crazy thought you wouldn’t show. I don’t know why, I mean you texted, but–”
Bellamy’s grin widened; his forehead dropped to touch hers. “The whole way I thought I was going to get a text saying you didn’t get on the plane.” When Clarke laughed again, he kissed her softly. “So, we’re really doing this, huh?”
“We sure are.” She smiled up at him. “Scared?”
“ ‘Course not.” His fingers wove with hers. “I’m with you.”
They hadn’t made it to the hotel before deciding the van was as good a place as any to start their vacation, and Bellamy had laughed and kissed her long and hard when he saw her underwear, the same pair she’d drunkenly bought and then sent him a picture of one night because - well, she was drunk and happy. “Much better in person,” he decided. The panties had come off about as fast as the rest of their clothing, and afterwards their only thought had been to get to their hotel room to start all over.
When Jasper had called a day later and suggested they road trip up to the coast to O’s wedding, they’d agreed immediately. Clarke had made up an excuse about visiting her mom before joining Bellamy, they’d decided to pick up Jasper on the way, and that was that.
Now here they were, a little over half way through the trip, with their secret very close to not being a secret for much longer - all thanks to one impulsive, giddy moment. What’s more, Clarke’s starting to be weirdly proud of the whole mess.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She’s cooing at pictures of Lily’s first day of school on Monty’s phone, having shoved Jasper into the front seat, when the Philadelphia skyline comes into view. As if on cue, her phone buzzes moments later with a text.
Panties, huh?
She breathes through her nose and types a quick reply to Emori. I hate everyone.
I know. A moment later: Unless they’re ripped it doesn’t count.
Before Clarke can fully process that sentiment, another text comes flying in. Sorry!! John took my phone
Clarke puts a hand to her forehead and grins. There is a child here. Be on your best behavior.
When her phone vibrates again, she expects to see another message from Emori. Instead, her phone keeps buzzing, Raven’s most recent Halloween picture appearing on the screen. Clarke braces herself.
“Hi, friend!”
“Don’t you dare hi, friend me, woman!” Raven’s screech blasts through the speakers. ”How am I just hearing about Pantygate?!”
“Oh good, it has a name now. Who came up with that?”
“Nice try lady, but that won’t work. Now are you going to tell me what’s going on or not?”
Instead of answering, Clarke looks to Lily, who’s struggling awake. “Hey Lily-bell, want to say hi to Auntie Raven?”
“Clarke, so help me God–”
“Here you go,” Clarke yells cheerily, and places in the phone in Lily’s waiting hands.
“Auntie Rayyy!” No one is immune to Lily, least of all her favorite aunt, and soon she is most eagerly engrossed in conversation, with the occasional addition from Monty.
Clarke catches Bellamy’s eyes on her in the rearview mirror and winks. She can practically hear his voice in her head - brave princess - when Lily finally hangs up. There will be hell to pay later, but that’s a problem for Future Clarke, she decides.
As the buildings get taller and the streets begin to narrow, Lily’s eyes widen and she presses her face up against the window in excitement. Bellamy, ever the nerd, points out historical landmarks and regales her with a story for each one. Clarke looks on adoringly. His nerdiness is one thing, but around Lily there’s another layer of sweetness that keeps a permanent smile on her face. She only only half-notices how Monty quietly looks between them.
They stop along a block crammed with rowhomes and a brightly colored bodega on the corner. Emori hops down the steps first to lift Lily into a twirling hug. Her long chestnut hair is unbound and falls nearly to her waist now, and Lily takes full advantage to grab a huge fistful. Murphy appears behind them, the affection on his features going undisguised for a rare moment. Then he greets everyone else with his usual grunt, tossing a duffel bag alongside the others in the trunk before sliding into the last row of the minivan. With a cheery hello, Emori jumps in beside him, giving him zero personal space - which, in Clarke’s opinion, is how he prefers it.
Taking advantage of the break as everyone catches up, Clarke hurries to the coffeeshop down the block and returns with a full tray, complete with treats for Lily. Bellamy offers a smile in thanks when she hands him the cup of La Colombe. She pretends not to be watching when he sniffs at it and sighs in contentment.
Lily, fully fed and pampered, soon falls asleep again as they make their way north. For a while, the conversation is buoyed by Jasper’s anecdotes about his grad school professors and Emori’s latest feature at work. Clarke notices how she no longer hides the burnt skin of her left arm as much as she used to, and how on occasion Murphy soothes a hand over it just because. The gesture makes her smile to herself as she listens to her friend excitedly talk about the new kids she’s met at the Boys and Girls Club and the “little sister” she sees at least once a week.
“What about you, Clarke?” Emori asks. “How’s your little protege doing?”
It’s Bellamy who answers first. “She’s a proper trouble-maker, just like her mom.”
Clarke flushes. They’ve all taken to calling Madi her daughter ever since she found her hiding out in the gallery attic one night. Clarke had let her stay far longer than she knew was appropriate, working to gain her trust inch by inch. Some nights were worse than others. It was weeks before she told Bellamy, and even then she wouldn't let him visit Madi for fear of scaring her off. But one day when he was hanging around at the gallery late, it was Madi who crept out of her usual hideout, curiosity overtaking her nerves. Eventually, Clarke had gone to Kane for advice, knowing she was well out of her depth. And now, even though they’d seen to it that Madi had found a loving foster home, most of the girl’s time was still spent with Clarke - and lately by extension, Bellamy.
“I’m not the one who taught her how to throw a front kick,” she says to Bellamy.
“Only because it was the one thing you hadn’t gotten to.” His gaze shifts to Murphy in the mirror. "And that's not all she's learned, apparently."
Murphy just raises an eyebrow, unconcerned by the warning. "She asked."
Clarke sticks out her tongue at them both and turns to Emori. “Madi’s taking martial arts classes at the rec center this year. She’s already a yellow belt. Best in her age group.”
“And she likes the new school?”
“Loves it. She has a good counselor looking out for her, and the teachers there are really helpful. They care so much. Now I know why Kane recommended it.”
“Speaking of schools,” Bellamy cuts in, “Emori, that story you did on the public school testing was great.” Emori’s face lights up with pride. “It’s bullshit, what they’re doing.”
“I bet it ruffled some feathers,” Monty adds.
She tosses a long lock of hair over her shoulder and shrugs. “That's the point. I can’t just sit around and watch it happen. Someone has to speak up, so why not me?”
Clarke grins and shakes a finger at Murphy. “You got a good one.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” he mutters, but draws Emori close all the same.
Between Bellamy and Emori, they manage to cajole Murphy into volunteering at least one story from the past year. In typical Murphy fashion, it’s more of a sarcastic commentary on the state of the city’s public transportation, but it’s more than he usually talks. It’s clear to Clarke that, despite Murphy’s protests, they both love Philadelphia. There’s an undercurrent of affection even as they bitch about how the bus always leaves them behind as they’re running down the block, as they reminisce about getting caught in a downpour with no warning, the weekend farmer’s market where the bananas are never truly ripe, the never-ending battle between bicyclists and the cars.
Clarke grins at Emori. “You ever gonna get that motorcycle?”
“Soon. I might even let John borrow it,” she says slyly, then yelps and laughs when he pokes her.
They’re stuck in traffic at the George Washington Bridge when Jasper decides to revisit Pantygate. “It’s not like you to be so careless,” he pokes Bellamy’s arm. “We were roommates for what, two years, and I never found a piece of clothing lying around.”
“Two and a half,” Bellamy says at the same time Clarke laughs, “That might just be because he’s a neat freak.”
Monty makes a questioning noise. “I dunno, Jasper has a point. She must be pretty special if she got you that distracted,” he says slyly. In the rearview mirror, Bellamy flicks his eyes over once. Clarke hides a smile in her hand, suddenly fascinated with the view out the window.
“Dude!” Miller suddenly exclaims. “Please do not tell me they were your ex’s, or I might have to punch you.”
Bellamy holds up his middle finger while Clarke rolls her eyes, rubbing Lily’s shoulder as the girl shifts in her sleep. It's not her favorite thing to think about, but Echo was a part of Bellamy's life that she'd learned to get used to. They had been together for a while after graduation. What began as a casual hookup turned into something else, and at the time, no one seemed more surprised than Bellamy. Clarke had missed him terribly, but she’d also been sorting out her own confused feelings for him - not something she was about to project onto him when he finally seemed happy. After all, he was her friend, first and foremost. Her feelings were secondary. And she was determined not to let them affect his relationship with Echo.
When it did end, though, it was with a mutual sadness. She’d known their affection was genuine. And though outwardly Echo took it harder, even moving away for a new job, Clarke knew Bellamy wasn't faring much better. Relationships were funny like that. Even when it was over, it took some time to really be okay with it.
Whenever people asked him what happened, he'd said the same thing - it was good, until it wasn’t.
One day, after a month of dating, Clarke had finally mustered the courage to ask him herself. He hadn’t given her the same rote response, just gotten a thoughtful look on his face. Finally he told her that there came a day when he realized Echo cared for him much more than he cared for her, and it wasn’t fair for to either of them to continue a relationship while he waited to feel the same way. It was a hard truth, but one he couldn’t ignore.
Bellamy’s firm voice brings her out of her thoughts. “It was not my ex.”
“Someone else we know?” Emori asks. Her savvy tone makes Clarke want to glance over at her, but she doesn’t.
When Bellamy doesn’t answer, Jasper begins to speculate. “What was it you were doing in New Orleans? Conference, right? Did you hook up with someone?”
“Well I think that much is obvious,” Murphy drawls.
Jasper glares. Bellamy stays silent, forcing the other to either continue discussing on their own or drop it. It’s a talent he’s developed over the years; some people mistake it for brooding. Clarke just thinks it’s clever. He’s gotten out of many a situation by just glaring. Monty finally breaks the silence, wheedling Jasper into revealing his plan for proposing to Maya. It’s a blatant change in subject, but it works. Jasper is more than eager to tell them everything, his hands flailing as he describes all the coffee he had getting the nerve up to call her dad for permission - “Yes, I’m a gentleman” - only to get his answering machine, and the trainwreck of a voicemail that folllowed.
Soon everyone’s laughing and making plans for their next long-distance road trip, and Clarke wonders if, on that one, she’ll be able to reach out and kiss Bellamy whenever she wants.
~~~~~~~~~~~
In the rearview mirror, Clarke’s face eases when she realizes Monty’s changed the subject. Bellamy wants to breathe a sigh of relief himself. The underwear thing has taken on a mind of its own. He still kind of can’t believe it happened, let alone while they’re trapped in a car for four days with the people who know them best. They’re both used to being careful, but New Orleans - it was something else. Seeing Clarke walk out of the gate at the airport had done something funny to his heart, and he’s not sure it’ll ever be the same again.
It’s not a bad thing. It’s fucking amazing, in fact. And it makes him want to shout from the rooftops that he’s finally got his girl.
It’s no wonder he couldn’t resist when she all but jumped him in the car. And they’ve both become fond of sex in odd places, if he’s being honest with himself. But their usual caution got thrown out the window in New Orleans. There was no reason to hide; no reason not to reach over and take her hand, no reason not to kiss the taste of chocolate off her lips, no reason not to pull her close just because.
He wants to do it more. He feels ready, now, and he thinks - hopes - she does too. They had agreed not to overshadow O’s wedding with their own stuff. Octavia and Lincoln deserved their day. But they hadn’t talked about what came after that. He’s pretty sure once they tell O she’ll take care of the rest; he just wants to make sure Clarke’s on the same page.
God, he hopes she is.
A honk drags his attention back to the present. Traffic is finally moving again; soon they’re over the bridge and back on the highway. The car is quiet now, and when he looks over his shoulder to ask Monty what exit to take to his mom’s, he finds his friend fast asleep. Miller grins and confirms in a whisper that they’re going the right way before shifting to talk to Murphy in a low voice. Emori fights a yawn, her head drooping against the window. Jasper is furiously typing away on his phone, no doubt to Maya.
The sky is shades of red and orange as the sun begins to set, and Bellamy’s eyes drift to Clarke. It’s her favorite time of day. Sure enough, she’s staring out the window, a soft smile playing at the corner of her lips. For once her forehead is free of the usual crease, no thoughts burdening her mind. She looks at peace. It’s the same look she gets when she’s shuffling around her gallery in the evening after everyone’s left; the same way she looks at him right after waking up. God, he loves her so much it’s stupid. He suddenly feels the need to touch her, just for a moment.
He glances in the mirror again. Everyone is occupied or asleep.
Slowly, he lets his left hand drop between the door and the driver’s seat, palm extended out. It’s silly, really - anyone could look over at any moment and see, and he’s not sure how okay Clarke is with all this since they haven’t really had a moment alone, but still he hopes–
Her fingers touch his, and squeeze lightly. One, two, three.
Bellamy lets go a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and pulls his hand back.
“Bellamy, the exit!” Miller’s urgent semi-shout makes him swear under his breath as he rushes to get the car all the way to the right to make the ramp. Clarke tries to morph her laugh into a cough, but when he dares meet her eyes again in the mirror, her smile’s still there.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Hannah Green is more than thrilled to pluck her granddaughter right from the seat, blowing kisses to everyone even as she heads back into the house with the little girl settled on her hip. Miller and Monty share a grin filled with equal parts bemusement and relief, as only parents can. Clarke pretends not to notice how gently Murphy is to wake Emori, how her sleepy hello pulls a brief but bright grin across his stern features. She fiddles with her bag a moment longer, letting the two head into the house slowly.
The warm presence at her shoulder makes her sigh a little. Hidden behind the van, she leans back against Bellamy for an extra second, nudging her nose into his shirt collar as his hand rubs comforting circles on her back.
“Two days down,” he murmurs, and she grins up at him.
“Two to go.”
He squeezes her waist in response and follows in her inside. The others already have popcorn and are arguing over a movie when Bellamy finally chimes in, “Don’t you think Lily should get to choose?”
That gets Miller going about Lily’s bedtime, talking over Jasper’s insistence that she’s on vacation, let her live a little until Monty’s mom reappears with a half-asleep Lily in her arms. “I think she’ll last maybe thirty minutes,” she tells her son.
They settle on the Tangled TV show with Lily wedged between Monty and his mom on the couch, alternately giggling and yawning. Jasper and Miller watch with the same enthusiasm normally reserved for football while Murphy quietly nudges Emori towards the guest room mid-yawn. Reaching for the popcorn, Clarke gets a craving for hot chocolate, so she wanders into the kitchen only to find Bellamy one step ahead of her. He turns at the sound of her footsteps, and with a grin, holds out a mug.
Miller’s voice echoes behind her. “Let it go Jasper, I mean I knew he was seeing someone.” The two step into the kitchen. At everyone's curious stares, he shrugs. “Obviously I didn’t know who. But come on, that dopey look he gets on his face when she texts can only mean one thing.”
Clarke walks over to the window, hiding her huge smile in a sip of hot chocolate. Yeah, she’s smug as all fuck and she's going to bask in it for a moment, everyone else be damned. Jasper and Miller leave again, still quietly discussing who the mystery woman could be. A hand on her back makes her jump and whirl around. But it’s only Bellamy, a teasing smile ghosting at his mouth before he reaches past her for his mug on the counter. Fully aware that she’s still grinning like a fool, she waits to head back to the living room room until she gets control of her facial muscles again.
She tucks herself into a corner of the couch with her legs folded, smiling when Monty’s mom reaches out to grasp her arm and ask how everything’s going. They chat quietly, Clarke noticing out of the corner of her eye how Bellamy’s yawns widen until he finally excuses himself.
“Your usual room’s all ready,” Hannah tells him, and he flashes her a fond grin, saying a quick goodnight before trudging up the stairs.
“It’s sweet of you to still keep rooms for us,” Clarke says softly. “But you know we’d be more than happy just bunking out down here, right? You don’t need to go through all that trouble.”
“Shush you. It’s not trouble. I love having the house full again.”
Clarke squeezes her hand and lays her head on the older woman’s shoulder.
“By the way,” Hannah says under her breath, “the window on the second landing is still unlocked. In case you were wondering.”
Clarke considers denying it, then giggles and texts Bellamy.
We’re so screwed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bellamy winces at the creak as the window swings open. He waits a moment, but when only snores drift up the stairwell, he clambers out onto the roof, the tile cool against his bare feet. The air is heavy with summer heat, an occasional breeze ruffling the branches of the trees behind the house. With a contented sigh, Bellamy stretches out on his back, arms under his head. It’s been too long since they’ve been back here.
Not long after, there’s a rustle behind him. He smiles.
Clarke’s footsteps are lighter than his on the terrace; he’s seen her swing out the window enough times to know just how gracefully she lands. She wiggles in by his side until she’s pressed up against him, an arm thrown over his stomach. He doesn’t open his eyes yet, just puts an arm around her to pull her closer.
“You never were subtle about opening that window,” she says after some time.
“Maybe I wasn’t trying to be subtle.” Bellamy finally cracks an eye open. “Got you up here, didn’t I?”
He’s rewarded by Clarke’s bright grin. “Oh, so it’s all part of your master plan?”
“Mm-hmm.”
She laughs lightly. “You and Hannah, always scheming. You think she’s told Monty?”
“Nah, she’s good like that.” He pauses. “Though, he probably already knows.”
“Yeah, he’s good like that too,” Clarke says, then sighs. “God, how long has it been? Two years?”
He nods. They’d taken to visiting in college when Monty’s dad was sick. Sometimes they’d stay and house-sit the dogs while he and his mom spent time at the hospital. Other days they’d just stay home with him, trying out all his mom’s old recipes and burning most of them in the process. Sometimes they brought their experiments to the hospital, pulling a smile from the adults as they gamely ate every bite. The nights were spent up on the roof, with Hannah’s old radio playing whatever station it could catch while they talked or played cards or just sat in silence, trying to give Monty some peace.
The house is full of memories, and it doesn’t escape Bellamy that even after years it still feels like a second home. Clarke echoes his thoughts.
“We need to do this more,” she says, and he hums in agreement.
“Preferably without the Spanish Inquisition every step of the way.”
Her face scrunches in concern in a matter of seconds. She leans up on one elbow to brush hair from his face. “You must be exhausted. Would you at least let Nate drive tomorrow?”
“I’ll be fine,” he murmurs, rubbing her shoulder. “You know I like driving. It’s soothing.”
Clarke makes a hmpfh into his shirt but doesn’t push it, just laying her head back on his shoulder. Now there’s something different about the silence that stretches between them. Yeah, he’s that far in that he reads into their silences. But he's used to quiet moments with Clarke, enough that it's obvious when something's off. And right now, it doesn’t feel like she’s finished; like there’s something else she wants to say but she’s turning it over in her head far too many times. Sure enough, when he looks down, her forehead is creased again, lips pursed in thought.
“What’s going on, princess?”
She glances up at him, then away, almost shy. He’s only seen her like this a handful of times before - it never fails to squeeze his heart. Gently, he tips her chin up with a finger and waits.
“You know, this– this isn’t how I wanted it to happen,” she begins, “but you know– it’s fine with me if everyone knows, right? I mean, what I mean is, I’m all in. Obviously.” She swallows, blue eyes earnest and hopeful.
Bellamy knows he’s grinning too widely and she’s probably going to punch him for laughing at her - yep, there are her tiny little fists - but goddamn, he loves her so much, his strong, brilliant, awful-at-feelings girlfriend.
He tells her just that in between kisses, not stopping until they’re both out of breath. “I’m all in too. Obviously. We’ll tell O after the wedding.” He wraps his arms around her. “Don’t think this gets you out of a dance, though. A slowww dance.”
Clarke laughs and presses her mouth to his again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next day, Clarke’s phone buzzes almost non-stop the entire way to Boston. Raven has chosen to use her first day off in months by sending an endless stream of texts, ranging from do I need pantyhose for this thing? to at least tell me the mystery undies were cute. Clarke mostly ignores her in favor of pointing out the sights to Lily, though she decides to send a few inquisitive texts of her own - I bet Mr. Shaw's going to miss you; I can think of a few things you should put on his to-do list; don't forget the bracelet!! - just to shut her up, even for a few minutes. But she can't help share the occasional glance with Bellamy every time her phone buzzes.
She’s in a surreal, floaty sort of mood– kind of like being permanently buzzed, but even better because there’s no hangover. Just Bellamy.
That’s partly why she’s sitting at the very back of the van. It’s far too tempting to reach over and touch Bellamy’s arm or shoulder or belt loop, too easy to grin and flirt now that they’ve both agreed the truth’s going to come out, one way or another.
“So Clarke,” Emori flashes her a grin. “Is Raven in charge of Madi while you’re here road tripping with us?”
“Please. You know Octavia snatched her up before I could even get a word in. The flower girl has Very Important Duties to help with.” Clarke smiles at the thought of Madi trying on the dress, how her fingers had traced the blue and silver ribbons around her waist with a gentleness that belied her grumbling in the stall just moments earlier. But it was the astonishment in her eyes that had left a lump in Clarke’s throat the rest of the day.
“I bet she’s loving every second,” Emori says.
“She is.” Clarke unintentionally finds Bellamy’s eyes in the mirror again. The warmth in his gaze tells her he remembers that day too– sitting with Madi at the harbor in that fancy dress, ice cream cone in hand. Triple scoops, naturally, because the only person Madi had wrapped around her finger worse than Clarke was Bellamy.
Soon enough the same harbor comes into view and Lily’s face is pressed up against the window once again. With little prompting, they all begin to point out spots that have become dear: the outdoor cafe where Miller and Monty had their first date; the bar across the street where everyone spied on them (lovingly, of course); the spot along the Charles River where Raven and Clarke got stuck in a storm while kayaking, having just met hours prior; the museums that Bellamy dragged them all to with neverending curiosity. As they round Storrow Drive, Cambridge comes into view and Clarke sends a string of emojis to Raven, laughing when she only gets exclamation marks in reply.
Raven comes flying out of out the front door of her building before the van even comes to a full stop, and soon they’re all crowded on the sidewalk in a massive group hug. While she catches up with Monty and Miller, Bellamy lets Lily scramble onto his shoulders for a better view. Clarke covers her laugh as the little girl tightens her hold on Bellamy’s earlobes while simultaneously chattering on about wanting to go out on a boat. He winces, gently readjusting her grip with a quick smile at Clarke. So she’s helpless but to walk over to them, unaware of the adoration stamped on her face while Bellamy solemnly explains the history of the Charles River to his attentive adopted niece.
“You know, Lily,” Clarke says conspiratorially, “your Uncle Bellamy once fell in the river.”
Lily’s eyes bulge, and she grabs his ears again. “Really?!”
Bellamy’s trying not to smile and failing miserably. Clarke nods. “Oh yeah. We were out kayaking and got stuck in a storm.”
“With thunder and lightning?”
“Thunder and lightning,” Clarke promises. “We couldn’t see anything, so we tried to row to the riverbank, and your big strong uncle thought standing up to pull the boat closer to the bank would be a good idea.”
“Luckily Aunt Clarke was there to save me,” Bellamy says with a wink, holding his hand up to high-five Lily. Clarke makes a face, knowing from the way his smile widens that her cheeks have filled with color just as he intended. Because obviously the story didn’t end there. That had been the scene of their fourth date, where, after escaping the rain, they had ended up at her old studio with considerably less clothes and actions not appropriate for Lily’s ears.
Raven chooses that moment to demand a pit stop for pastries on their way out. Before anyone can answer though, an entirely new voice calls out her name. Everyone looks across the street to find a young man hopping off a motorcycle. Under the helmet, his dark hair is closely shaved, sharp eyes set in a dark-skinned face with angled features.
“Zeke?” Raven’s startled chirp makes even Clarke’s eyebrows fly up, and she and Bellamy exchange an amused look.
The newcomer - Zeke - crosses over to them in a few quick strides. If he's nervous, it doesn't show. “Hey, Raven. Sorry if I’m interrupting. I was just hoping to catch you before you left. Won’t take more than a few minutes.”
“That’s- no, that’s fine, is everything alright at the lab?” Raven recovers with the best of them, shifting into work mode, and suddenly Clarke knows who this is.
Pulling out her phone, she scrolls through her texts until she sees “Shaw” and smiles triumphantly. The mystery coworker who’s got Raven completely discombobulated, revealed at last. Bellamy leans over her shoulder to read, inadvertenly sending goosebumps down her bare arms.
“Gotcha,” he whispers, and she elbows him and puts a finger to her lips.
Zeke and Raven have moved off to the side, huddled over his phone. Clarke doesn’t miss how Zeke has maneuvered them to a bench to take the weight off Raven's bad leg. She also doesn't miss how carefully Raven is holding herself next to him, close enough to chat but not touching, arms folded across her chest. For anyone this would be a defensive stance, but for Raven it’s even worse. The firm set of her mouth and the stiffness in her back tell Clarke she’s trying too hard to appear unbothered by the man at her side. For his part, Zeke seems mostly in control, except for the occasional moment when he reaches out to touch her, then thinks better of it and drops his hand again, fingers flexing.
Emori sidles up to her. “They’ve got it baaaad,” she says in a sing-song voice.
Clarke has to agree.
After another long minute where they both seem to say everything except what they actually need to, the conversation ends and Raven turns to her bag. Slipping a key off its keyring, she holds it out to Zeke, who takes it carefully with a tilt to his mouth that could be a smile.
“See you Monday,” he says quietly. With a nod to the others, he’s walking away.
Raven looks after him for an extra second, then glances over her shoulder, eyes narrowing at everyone’s expectant looks. “Show’s over. Are we gonna get a move-on or not?”
Everyone trades glances, unanimously deciding not to challenge her until some form of alcohol is involved. Well, everyone except Clarke. As they all settle into the van, she makes sure to place herself right next to Raven in the back. She waits until they’re well on their way, Lily’s naptime fully in session, before turning to her friend with a small nudge.
“So,” she says.
“So?”
“That was Zeke Shaw?”
“Yep.”
“Raven.”
“Clarke.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me. I’ll just come up with my own theories. I’m sure Jasper has some ideas too, and I just know Octavia will find his Facebook–”
“He doesn’t have Facebook,” Raven says automatically, and Clarke smiles, victorious. “Alright, fine,” her friend grumbles. “Yes, that was him. What else do you need to know?” Clarke just raises an eyebrow and waits. Raven sighs and begins twisting her hair into a knot, a sure sign of unease. “He’s… ugh. I told you he’s part of the new group that we merged with last month. I mean, I know it’s not their fault that my best girl got fired, but it still sucks. We have to re-train everyone, re-write all these protocols that we were just getting used to, and everyone wants things done only their way…”
“But,” Clarke prompts softly.
“But… he’s not the worst. I guess.” Raven bites a fingernail until Clarke swats it away and hugs her.
“My dear Raven,” she sighs. “You have it so bad.”
“Shut up,” comes the weak reply. After a beat, Raven rests her head atop hers. “So what about you, huh? How’re you holding up with this whole panty situation?”
“I’m fine.”
“Clarke.”
“Raven.”
“Don’t make me tickle it out of you, because I don’t care about waking a sleeping child, I’ll do it.”
“That’s just cruel,” Clarke says, but decides on a half-truth. “It is what it is, right? What am I going to do about it?”
“At least give me some details!”
Clarke swallows when Jasper’s head turns toward them. “How would I have details?”
“You two were the only ones there,” Raven points out. “Come on, Jasper. Give me something.”
“Um… they were black?” Jasper offers. Clarke bites her lip hard to stop the grin that’s forming. Bless his sweet straight self.
Raven groans and drops her head back against the seat rest. “Useless. Utterly useless.”
“Hey!” he protests. “Clarke saw them too!”
“You think I wanted to look at them up close?” Clarke makes what she hopes is an affronted face, looking anywhere but at Bellamy.
She thanks her good fortune that she and Jasper had been the only two witnesses. Because if Raven had gotten a better description, she’d have known instantly that the owner of said mystery panties was sitting right beside her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Two weeks ago
“This is cute!” Raven holds up a lacy blue set, waving it around. Clarke snorts.
“Okay, if you’re using words like cute, we are too drunk for this.”
Her friend puts the hanger back and slings an arm around her shoulders. “C’est la vie, Clarke. You are buying something, and that’s that. Don’t pretend you weren’t looking through the window when we walked by.”
She had been, of course, but it was the tequila.
Mostly. Kind of.
In just a few days, she would be getting on a plane and flying to New Orleans to meet Bellamy. Her boyfriend. Her boyfriend Bellamy was waiting for her in New Orleans. And she hadn’t told anyone.
What the actual fuck.
Thoughts like that had her dragging Raven out the door and straight to the bar, where they’d proceeded to throw back some extremely fried food and some extremely strong margaritas. How many? She did not count. Counting was not a part of tonight.
So, here they are in the lingerie shop, and apparently she’s definitely getting something. Wandering through the racks of clothes, she absently trails a hand over the different materials and cuts until a pair of black panties thrown in the wrong bin catches her eye. Curious, she holds them out in front of her and nearly drops them at Raven’s “ooooohhhhh!!”
Her friend pops up beside her with a decisive nod. “Yes. I approve.” Placing her hands on her shoulders, she shoves Clarke towards the register. “Lezzgoooo!”
“You’re bossy,” Clarke yells over her shoulder, but buys them anyways. Soon the need for ice cream becomes overpowering, and so they sit along the water savoring their triple scoop scones and laughing about everything and nothing in a way they hadn’t in a long time.
They head home in the early hours of the morning, Clarke convincing Raven to take her couch. She, however, finds herself wide awake listening to her friend’s snores from the other room. With a sigh, she looks at the little blue bag that holds her spontaneous purchase. She should at least try them on, make sure they fit... a mischievous thought overtakes as her eyes land on the picture of their group from a beach day not long ago. She and Octavia had tag-teamed in a splash fight against Bellamy, taking turns trying to dunk him underwater. He may have been considerably stronger, but they were equally as determined. Emori had caught on camera the moment Clarke was clinging to Bellamy's back, koala-style. They both had sand in their eyes and were half-submerged in the water, but she can still hear his laughter like it was yesterday. Of all the things Clarke proudest of, making Bellamy laugh is definitely in the top three.
In the spirit of that, she decides to get his opinion on her newest item of clothing. The black lace is cool against her skin and settles comfortably on her hips. She teases her fingers over the scalloped edges a little longer than necessary, then turns. The sheer back rounds nicely over her bum, with two thin straps criss-crossing at the top. The tiny red bows on either side add the perfect flirty touch.
Before she can overthink it, she grabs her phone and takes a picture, and hits send. The next several seconds are agonizing, and then:
New phone, who’s this?
“What the fuck,” Clarke whispers. "No no no no..." As she starts to type, the chat bubble pops up again.
How much did that freak you out?
Her mouth drops open. Instead of finishing her text, she calls. "You're mean," she says as soon as he picks up.
"No, what’s mean is you sending me that picture when I can’t do anything about it," Bellamy replies. A small shiver goes down her spine. His voice is scratchy and low, and it makes her want to be there with him, take care of him and wake up next to him-
"It’s just three more days," she says, a little breathless.
"That's three days too long, princess."
She laughs and falls back on her bed. "You’ll survive."
They talk until her eyes finally began to droop and her words stretch together. The last thing she hears is Bellamy's soft chuckle. She wakes with the phone still in her hand, and when she pushes away the blanket and sees she’s still wearing the new panties, she grins and cuts the tag off right away.
For once, it’s a drunken purchase she won’t be returning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Present
They arrive in Maine late in the day, and Clarke sighs happily as the salty sea air hits her senses the moment she steps from the van. The wind tugs at their clothes and hair, ushering them into the AirBnB they’ve taken over for the weekend. Everyone deposits their bags in the rooms on the second level, then collapses gratefully onto the couches in the living room.
Lincoln arrives soon after, and Clarke is first to the door to pull him into a long hug. “Congrats,” she whispers, and he smiles.
“I see you arrived in one piece.”
“Barely,” she mutters. At his questioning glance, she waves him off. “I’ll tell you later.” She steps aside to let everyone else greet him with handshakes and pats on the back. He towers over many of them, but steps so carefully that it always makes her heart hurt a little. She’s so happy for him she thinks she might burst. When Bellamy steps up to give him a quick hug, she has to look away. It had taken so long for Bellamy to accept that his sister had found her partner in Lincoln - not because he wasn’t happy for her, but because he thought it meant Octavia would leave him behind.
Stupid, headstrong, selfless Bellamy never considered that everyone else would drag him into their makeshift family whether he wanted to be part of it or not.
Across the room, he catches her rubbing her eyes and frowns, about to walk over when she shakes her head. Taking out her phone, she types a quick message.
Happy tears. I’m good.
She watches him read it, the warm smile that flickers at the corner of his mouth, and thinks, I love you.
The arm that curls around her shoulders makes her start in surprise, but it's just Lincoln, who's also noticed her absolute lack of chill. "What's going on, Clarke?" He prompts quietly.
Clarke hugs him again. "Nothing, I'm just being weird. Though I think might have to forego makeup tomorrow or I'll end up being the scariest and weepiest disaster of a bridesmaid ever."
"You're gonna have to see through those tears to walk me down the aisle, you know." His smile turns into a chuckle as she she hiccups.
“Oh shit! Shit, shit, SHIT!”
The way Raven's screech blasts through the room makes everyone tense in alarm, and Clarke wonders if she should be scrambling for higher ground. Instead, she turns to find her friend furiously digging through her bag.
Miller glares, both hands over Lily’s ears. “Come on, watch it.”
Raven ignores him, her panicked gaze landing on Clarke. She spreads her arms wide in despair. “I fucking forgot the bracelet!”
“Raven,” Miller snaps.
“You don’t get it,” she moans.”It was supposed to be Octavia’s something blue! I can still see it on my dresser. How could I forget?!”
“Hey, hey, it's alright,” Clarke hurries over, putting an arm around her. “I have blue earrings with me, she can just take those. They’ll be her something blue and borrowed. It’ll be great, come on, you’ll see.”
“I guess.” Raven still doesn’t look satisfied. “Where are they?”
“In my purse, the little silver bag with all my stuff for Saturday. They’re the ones you picked, remember? When we found that random shop in Somerville? They’ll look perfect on Octavia, with her hair half-up and the veil...” she keeps talking, gently walking her friend over to the couch.
Raven slumps down and begins sorting through her purse half-heartedly. Clarke settles next to her on the arm of the couch and rubs her shoulder, giving everyone else a look. They take the hint and begin catching up with Lincoln. Miller returns from tucking Lily into bed and throws himself onto the couch next to Raven with a long sigh.
“What are you sighing about,” Raven mutters. “You’ve got the cutest kid on Earth.”
“Sure do,” Miller replies cheerily. “Doesn’t mean I need her repeating all your fancy words back to me. She’s a handful enough as it is. Not unlike what’s-his-name back in Cambridge.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Sounds to me like we should be asking who rather than what got you so so hot and bothered you forgot your bracelet.”
“Nate,” Clarke pleads, while Raven cuts her eyes sideways.
Miller grins over her head. “You got a flask anywhere in this bag of yours? I think I know someone who could use a shot.”
“She has a pocketknife,” Raven says without looking up. “Don’t make me use it.”
“Guys, I need my husband in one piece,” Monty calls. With a chuckle, Jasper strolls over and plants himself cross-legged on the floor in front of them to play mediator, patting Raven’s knee. Clarke rests an elbow on the back of the couch and leans back with a sigh. She’s more than happy to give O the earrings for her wedding. They weren’t really her style anyways; she’d bought them mostly at Raven’s insistence. Now that she thinks about it, they’ll match the forget-me-nots in Octavia’s bouquet perfectly.
Raven grunts, then makes a face. “Clarke, ugh, at least clean out your bag once in a while, nobody wants to see your underwear,” she grouses, and shoves the panties at her.
Clarke catches them reflexively, not really processing the black lace against her fingers. “Keep telling yourself that,” she jokes, poking Raven.
A high, strangled gasp comes from Jasper. Everyone pauses mid-conversation and turns to look. From the corner of her eye, Clarke sees Bellamy stand from where he was talking to Lincoln on the stairs. Jasper continues to point at the panties with a shaking finger; the other hand holding Raven’s knee in a death grip.
“Ow!” Raven pries her leg free. “Jasper, what the f—” She stops and looks between them again. Then, more slowly: “Wait. Are those…”
”Mystery panties!” Jasper shrieks, throwing his arms out wildly.
Raven stares. Beside her, Miller lets out an astonished laugh, clapping a hand over his face. Clarke can feel a slightly hysterical grin pulling at the corners of her mouth. For a moment, her vision narrows to just Bellamy. She can’t find any more excuses, and she’s not sure she wants to. Bellamy smiles, and it’s over.
“You!” Jasper’s found his voice again. “They were yours! You’re the floozy!”
“Guilty,” Clarke shrugs at the same time Bellamy sternly calls, “She’s not a floozy.”
“Sorry, sorry, but I TOLD YOU,” Jasper’s bounding around, shaking the life out of everyone (aside from Murphy, who he gives a wide berth).
“Wait wait wait,” Raven stands up. “You couldn’t even remember the red bows, Jasper?! I could’ve solved this days ago!”
Everyone begins to talk at once. Emori smugly shares a fist-bump with Monty, while Lincoln raises his glass to Clarke, smiling. In the midst of it all, Clarke recovers her bag and shoves the underwear away again. Then she looks at Bellamy and shrugs sheepishly.
Sorry, she mouths.
Bellamy shakes his head. I’m not.
He runs upstairs while everyone else continues to talk over each other, reappearing a moment later with a duffel in hand. He raps his knuckles loudly on the banister, waiting for everyone to shut up. “My girlfriend and I are taking the last bedroom,” he announces delightedly, and shoves the bag at Jasper. “You can have the couch.”
As Clarke laughs, Bellamy walks over and envelops her in a hug, kissing her cheek with a loud smack. She wraps her arms around his waist, tucking her face into his shirt for a moment, overwhelmed. He lays his cheek atop her head and squeezes her tight. “All in,” he murmurs, just for her.
With an arm still firmly around her, Bellamy turns to the others. “Just do us a favor, guys. Please don’t tell O until after the wedding, alright?”
Clarke smiles up at him, but when she finally looks to her friends, they’re nervously looking past her. Lincoln is the only one still faintly smiling. She and Bellamy both turn.
Octavia stands in the doorway, her smirk widening when she sees the panic spreading throughout the group.
“Don’t tell me what?”
~~~~~~~~~~~
“Please don’t be mad.” Clarke leans forward in her chair.
Octavia sits across from her, arms hugging her knees to her chest. They're on the back porch, just the two of them. The constant tinkle of the wind chimes above and the waves crashing ashore below drown out whatever conversation is definitely happening back inside the house. Clarke couldn't care less about that. All she cares about is the person sitting in front of her, which is why she'd insisted on following Octavia outside before Bellamy could. She’s filled with an odd need to explain herself, to prove just how much Bellamy means to her before his sister can form any assumptions. She needs Octavia to know just how badly head over heels she is for her big brother.
“We were going to tell you, I swear,” Clarke pushes on. "It's just… This day, this whole weekend belongs to you and Lincoln. We didn't want to ruin any of that with our stuff, you know?” Her fingers twist together tightly until her friend finally nods.
“I’m not mad,” Octavia says carefully. “I mean, I wish you’d told me sooner, but I get it. We’re surrounded by vultures.” She assesses Clarke. “I think this could be good, if it’s for real. Is it real, Clarke?”
Clarke can’t help her smile. “Yeah, it is. I love him, Octavia.” She lets the words hang between them, not disguising the joy she feels in saying it out loud. Boy, she could really get used to this. When Octavia grins, she decides to jump in both feet first. “Last weekend, when I was visiting mom? That was just a cover. We were in New Orleans together. Me and Bellamy.”
Octavia’s jaw drops. Her legs hit the wooden deck of the patio with a loud smack as she leans forward. “You’re telling me you rode a streetcar named desire with my brother?!” The squeaky pitch to her voice makes Clarke snort.
“You know your nerdy brother made that joke the second we got there, right?”
“You know you’re both the worst, right?” Octavia says, grinning.
“Yeah, I know.” Clarke reaches out to clasp Octavia’s hand. “Listen. All cards on the table. It started a few months ago. Bellamy asked me out after I sold my first painting. At first I thought it was just to celebrate, but then he made it clear it was a date, and I– I was terrified.”
“Let me guess, pro and con lists were involved?”
“Far too many. But then... I realized I really wanted to go.” She shrugs, remembering how that excitement had overridden all reason. “So I did. And it went really well, and we went out again, and it just– what?”
Octavia’s expression is thoughtful. “You said a few months ago, right? That would make it, what, January?” When Clarke nods, she gives her a look. “Come on, I know you know exactly what date.”
“January 22nd,” Clarke says meekly.
“January 22nd… why is that…” Octavia’s face clears, and she throws her head back with a laugh. “Oh, this is too good.” She fishes her phone out from the back pocket of her jeans and scrolls for a moment, her grin never fading. Clarke looks on in confusion until her friend shoves the phone in her face. “Read that.”
Octavia: TGIF big brother! I thought this day would never end.
Bellamy: And here I am hoping this night never ends
Octavia: Cryptic af. What’s tonight?
Octavia: Helloooo anyone home?
Octavia: I think Lincoln and I will elope.
Bellamy: Funny. It’s just been a really good day, O. Best in a long time.
Clarke’s smiling by the time she finishes reading, noting the 3:23 a.m. time stamp on Bellamy’s last text. He’d dropped her off like a true gentleman, leaving her with a final lingering kiss that almost made her pull him inside right then and there. Instead he’d given her a cheeky grin and promised to call. She’d pushed into her apartment and sagged against the door for a moment, smiling at herself like a moron in the reflection of the window; the green light of the clock on her stove read 3:21 a.m.
“I can see by your ridiculous face that you get it,” Octavia says dryly, taking her phone back.
Bellamy chooses that moment to open the back door, tentatively stepping outside. “Hey. Are you guys… is everything okay?”
Clarke looks to Octavia, raising an eyebrow. Octavia rolls her eyes, but grins and squeezes her arm before bouncing up to her toes. “Everything is more than okay, big brother. And I now know why January 22nd was such a great night,” she teases, waving the phone in front of his face.
Bellamy blinks, taking in the texts, then chuckles and pulls her into a relieved hug. “Told you, O. Best night of my life.” Over her shoulder, his gaze lands on Clarke. “Up to that point.”
“Ewww. You guys are the worst,” Octavia reiterates, and pushes him away goodnaturedly. At the door, she turns around for a final pointed glance. “You both better be on time tomorrow. And this means I am most certainly going all bridezilla and demanding you let Niylah take some cute-ass pictures whenever I say.”
“It’s your day, O.”
Octavia grins and winks, closing the door behind her. Bellamy looks over at Clarke, eyebrows lifting. “So. That happened.”
“It sure did. You know we’re never going to hear the end of it, right?”
“Probably not. No turning back now.” He pulls her to her feet, arms sliding around her waist. “Scared?”
“ ‘Course not.” Clarke smiles and stretches up to kiss him. “I’m with you.”