Chapter Text
Bellamy reached over his head, cracking his knuckles. He’d been waking up alone for almost four years now, but recently, it felt more lonely. The king bed left ample room for him to stretch out, but it also emphasized the cold space beside him.
After he lost Gina, he thought he might be alone forever and that he would be okay with that.
But as time passed, that seemed less and less like the kind of life he wanted to live.
He laid back against the pillows, considering what might lie ahead when he heard a small whine.
“Daddy, I’m sick,” a small voice called from the side of his bed, a voice that sounded decidedly not sick.
He leaned over to find Madi curled up on the floor, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and her stuffed bear clutched in her arms.
Mr. Bear was worse for the wear. One of his eyes was missing, his ragged ears torn from years of chewing.
But no matter how tattered it got, Bellamy wouldn’t dream of messing with it. He knew how much it meant to Madi. Gina bought that bear for her when Madi was just a smudge on an ultrasound. And even though she didn’t really remember, she knew it was one of the only gifts she had from her mom.
Curled up in a tiny ball, she looked so small and lost, he didn’t really care if she was faking.
Gently, he hauled her up on the bed, letting her snuggle into his arms. The way she curled into him, he knew she needed it.
At this rate, he was going to be late for work, but he could probably skip his shower and be fine.
“If you’re sick, you’re going to have to come to work with me,” he said, trailing off even though he knew Madi would jump at the idea of being on set and eating snacks from Kraft services.
And sure enough, she did.
Madi sprung up from the bed and excitedly launched into a series of questions about what they were going to do all day.
It made him a little worried, made him wonder whether she was having trouble at school or if she felt a misplaced sense of grief for a mother she didn’t know.
These uncharacteristic grouchy spells were happening more and more frequently as she neared her sixth birthday, and they were starting to make him worry.
“I knew she wasn’t sick,” Charlotte smirked, peeking her head through the doorway.
“Daddy said I don’t have to go to school,” Madi fired back smugly, pushing her messy curls off her face so she could stick her tongue out at her sister.
“No fair! Can I have the day off?” Charlotte pouted, leaning in the doorway.
There was the sound of a door closing, and a few steps before Gabriel’s voice called down the hall.
“We spent two days studying for your biology quiz. You can’t skip school,” he scolded, saving Bellamy the trouble of having to talk her out of it.
“What are you still doing in bed?” Gabriel asked, stopping in front of the door with Eden on his hip. He was already dressed in his work clothes, long velvet cape trailing behind him down the hall.
“I’m going to work with daddy today,” Madi repeated, still looking incredibly proud of herself.
Gabriel smirked, shaking his head as he called over his shoulder.
“You’re too soft for your own good, Blake.”
***
Madi insisted on putting on her nicest dress to visit the set of “Wake Up Arkadia,” apparently forgetting her ruse about being sick.
Bellamy didn’t want to crush her spirit, not when she was so proud of her effort.
She’d even made Murphy twist her hair into two little buns, topped with green ribbons to match her dress.
He may be soft, but everyone else in their house was too.
Bellamy chuckled to himself as Madi twirled in circles, waving and smiling to each person they passed.
“Good morning, Mr. cameraman! Good morning Mrs. Food table lady!” She chirped, beaming when Bellamy’s coworkers smiled back at her.
And then she reached Clarke.
Bellamy’s production director.
Who he may or may not have had a crush on for the past year.
“I like your pretty dress,” Madi continued, seemingly unbothered by her father’s sudden discomfort. “Do you like my pretty dress?”
Without missing a beat, Clarke took Madi’s hand, spinning her in another circle.
“I love your pretty dress! Green is my favorite color,” Clarke said cheerfully, allowing Madi to spin her in an awkwardly cramped circle.
His heart stuttered, and almost stopped beating completely when she bent down to Madi’s eye level, still smiling warmly.
Clarke Griffin, was the main reason Bellamy was suddenly not content with the idea of being alone for the rest of his life. From the moment she dropped into their sound stage and started yelling out orders, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head.
Sure, Clarke spent most of her day yelling orders and directing people around on set. But Bellamy was lucky enough to see her in her softer moments too, when she spoke to guests or smiled at a perfect take.
Her smile never failed to make him feel weak at the knees. She didn’t dole them out often, but when her cheeks turned up, and the small mole above her lip became more prominent…it was a sight to be seen.
Bellamy spent more time than he’d cared to admit pretending like he wasn’t staring at her, like he wasn’t making up excuses just to ask her stupid questions.
And now she was picking up his daughter, whispering something conspiratorially while they both looked in his direction.
Even in his slightly mind-numbed state, Bellamy knew this was a combination that he wouldn’t be able to undo.
They’d only been talking for a few minutes, and Madi already looked enamored by Clarke.
He couldn’t exactly blame her.
“Daddy, this is my new friend Clarke,” Madi announced proudly, straightening the production headphones from around her neck. “She said I could be in charge of the show today.”
Clarke flashed him a careful smile, adjusting Madi on her hip, and for a moment, Bellamy forgot how to speak.
“Could you spare her? I could really use the help,” Clarke agreed, winking at him over his daughter’s head.
Clearing his throat, Bellamy tried to gather his bearings.
This was ridiculous.
He’s a grown man. He should be able to talk to a girl that he likes without completely losing his shit.
“Well, if you insist…” he sighed, making a big show of pretending like he needed Madi to do his job, when in fact, Clarke was doing him a huge solid.
Madi preened, whispering something in Clarke’s ear. Whatever she said earned a smile, and with a small wave, they both disappeared in the chaos of the pre-show set up.
Bellamy took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he made his way to the makeup chair. Emori was already sitting beside him, hair wrapped in round curlers that made her look a little like an alien.
“ I saw that…” she teased, not looking up from the BuzzFeed article she was scrolling through. “Very smooth. Let your adorable child flirt for you.”
He wanted to protest, but there was a grain of truth to it. There was no point in arguing with Emori about it. She’d figured out his crush on Clarke within a day.
“Madi is obsessed with her,” he shrugged, trying to seem casual.
“So are you…”
“Is this necessary? Shouldn’t we be prepping or something?”
Emori rolled her eyes, finally putting her phone down. “We read off a teleprompter, it’s not rocket science,” she giggled, scrunching her nose when the make-up artist brushed bronzer on it. “Now, stop trying to change the subject.”
“I’m not changing the subject! There’s nothing to talk about!”
“You could just talk to her, you know? She’s single, there’s nothing to lose in trying.”
He hated to admit it, but Emori was right. This was the kind of in he’d been looking for. But Bellamy was off his game, the last time he dated...hell he couldn’t even remember the last time he asked someone out. And Clarke was...too perfect for him to risk messing things up.
“She’s my best friend, I know these things,” Emori continued, blotting her lipstick in the mirror. “And if you want to impress her, don’t let them put the gel in your hair. Clarke is a sucker for the curls.”
Before he could formulate a coherent response, someone from wardrobe whisked Emori away, leaving Bellamy to stare at his messy hair in the mirror.
***
“Uncle Murphy did my pigtails special for me this morning,” Madi said proudly, running her finger over the green ribbon
Clarke smiled, lifting Madi into a tall director's chair so she could see her dad on the stage.
Uncle Murphy.
She was pretty sure that was the one who Emori had a crush on, with the floppy hair and the perpetually unbuttoned shirts.
“How many uncles do you have?” Clarke asked, settling into her own chair, unable to resist the opportunity to find out a little more about Bellamy’s world.
She’d never been able to fully discern what his deal was. They all knew he was a single dad, but that was the extent of the information. Clarke wanted to learn more about him, wholly intrigued by his soft smiles and the gap-toothed pictures hanging in his dressing room.
Her lack of knowledge about his life confirmed that, in truth, she knew nothing about him. But this glimmer into his life made her want to know everything about him, to make herself a part of his world.
“Hmm, well, there’s uncle Murphy and uncle Gabe, we all live in my house together. There’s also uncle Lincoln, but he and auntie O live in Polis,” the little girl rambled, counting them off on her fingers.
“Three uncles is pretty special,” Clarke agreed, handing Madi a clipboard with a blank piece of paper on it so she could feel more included. “Plus, your daddy.”
“He is a good daddy. Except that he doesn’t let us have dessert on school nights,” she nodded, doodling a circle on her paper.
Clarke’s heart stuttered, and she couldn’t help the way her eyes flicked to the sound stage. Bellamy was already seated in his armchair, chatting pleasantly with their guest.
Hanging out with Madi was the first peek into who Bellamy really was, what he was like outside of work. If she was anything to go by, he's a really good dad, and it just made her crush worse.
She needed to change the subject. At the rate they were going, this adorable child would unknowingly render her into a puddle of school girl mush before the show even started taping.
“So when I tell everyone to go, the cameras are going to start moving and the show starts! Once that happens, you gotta be quiet as a mouse, okay?” Clarke instructed, holding a finger to her lips. “Do you know how to spell quiet?”
Clarke wasn’t sure whether it was the right question for a five-year-old, but Madi drew a wobbly Q on her paper and then a U, and then I, skipped the E and ended with a T.
“That’s super close!” She cheered, explaining the phonics behind the missing E as the crew shuffled around them, getting ready for the show.
She’d never been one of those people who were naturally good with kids, always felt too awkward around them to try. But Madi was warm and curious and bright. Hanging out with her felt like the most natural thing in the world.
It wasn’t even about Bellamy—Clarke wanted to personally ensure this kid never felt sad a day in her life.
The feeling was unfamiliar, but not necessarily unwelcome.
She ran a hand over Madi’s back, nodding encouragingly as she practiced writing the word “quiet.”
***
Madi proudly handed Bellamy a paper with giant letters scribbled on it. There were a few words that he didn’t think she knew how to spell, but they were written nonetheless.
“Clarke taught me how to write big girl words,” she announced, planting her hands on her hips as she looked between him and Clarke.
“Madi is hands down the smartest five-year-old I’ve ever met,” Clarke agreed, smiling down at Madi in a way that made Bellamy’s heart ache.
His daughters didn’t have many women in their lives. He knew how much it meant to Madi to hear this from Clarke. Maybe this was what she needed to shake off her funk, some girl time.
And it didn’t hurt to know that the woman he’d been crushing on for the better part of a year liked his kid.
Not just tolerated—but actually seemed to like her.
“You are the smartest,” he agreed, bending to press a kiss to his daughter’s cheek. “Why don’t you go show Emori.”
Madi nodded excitedly, scampering off, waving the paper in hand.
“I—thank you, seriously,” he sighed, leaning against the wall as he smiled at Clarke.
Clarke smiled back, leaning beside him, so their shoulders brushed just a little.
“She’s great. Seriously, you’re doing an amazing job. Most kids are not that interesting or fun,” she said, flitting her gaze over to where Madi was showing Emori her work from the day.
A knot formed in Bellamy’s chest, something that felt like the beginnings of tears.
It was an impossible feat sometimes, managing the grief of three kids who lost their mom. On days like these, he wondered whether he was enough, whether he was doing right by them. The girls had an army of people who loved them, but it always felt like they were missing something that he would never be able to give them.
To hear that he was doing a good job, from Clarke no less—hit him straight in the heart.
Bellamy didn’t have a lot of people he let into his world, who got to spend time with the girls the way Clarke had today. He was glad that she could see just how special Madi is, that she’d taken the time to get to know his daughter and make sure she had a good day.
Clarke placed a hand on his arm, squeezing his bicep gently.
Maybe Emori was right. Clarke was just a person. All he had to do was talk to her.
It didn’t have to be a grand gesture.
After years of staying off the market, he should start small.
He needed the space to get to know her, to show her parts of his life that he’d kept close to his chest for so long.
Maybe it would go somewhere, maybe it wouldn’t.
But he hoped that Clarke would be a part of their lives either way.
“Clarke, Clarke!! Do you want to come over for dinner? It’s uncle Murphy’s special BBQ night!” Madi yelled, running back across the sound stage and toward them.
Clarke’s eyebrows jumped, and she seemed genuinely caught off guard.
“I—I’m sure that your—“ she stammered, shooting Emori a look that Bellamy couldn’t quite read.
“Madi, It’s Friday night. Clarke probably has plans,” Bellamy interrupted, tripping over his words as he tried to straighten a situation that only seconds ago felt perfect.
True to form, Madi was very much a step on the gas, no brakes kind of kid.
The idea of Clarke at his house, the same day that he’d finally managed to say more than three words to her, felt risky. There were too many possibilities for things to go wrong, for him to mess it up.
But still, he kind of hoped she didn’t have plans.
“I'm supposed to hang out with Emori,” Clarke said slowly, drawing her lip between her teeth. “So if we can both come...I think we would love to try Murphy’s BBQ. Right, Mori?”
***
Bellamy burst through the kitchen door. This was bad, very, very bad. Clarke was going to be here in two hours, he hadn’t showered since yesterday, and the house was a complete disaster.
“Clean your room Charlotte, we’re having company,” he called as he picked up blankets and plastic toys.
“Is the company eating dinner in my room?” Charlotte huffed, not looking up from her phone.
“Charlotte…please just humor me here. You can go back to being twelve and hating me in an hour, I promise.”
She rolled her eyes, but complied, rolling off the couch to take some of the blankets out of his arms.
“Madi, it’s your room too, I’m not cleaning by myself,” she yelled, so loudly that Bellamy had to wince a little bit.
The girls disappeared up the stairs, leaving Bellamy to wonder how he can make his house look like six people don’t live in it.
“Is the queen coming to visit?” Murphy snorted, coming down the stairs with Eden on his hip.
She was fresh from her nap, soft brown curls sticking up wildly, eyes sleepy and cheeks red. Bellamy reached out for her, hugging her close as he explained the events of his day to his best friend.
“Wait...Emori is your co-host, right? From the show?” Murphy asked, the smile slipping from his lips.
“The one who you totally embarrassed yourself in front of at Octavia’s wedding? Yeah, that’s the one,” he confirmed, taking great pleasure in the way Murphy cringed before he turned to help straighten up.
At least now, both of them were nervous.
Bellamy set Eden down in her playpen before getting down on his hands and knees to scrub the dirt off the floor.
He and Murphy cleaned in silence, working their way through the entire downstairs.
It wasn’t spotless by any means, but the house looked a lot better than it did before.
“Yikes...you need to shower before Clarke gets here,” Murphy frowned, pinching Bellamy’s wrinkled shirt with distaste. “If I’m going to make dinner for this many people, I need you out of my hair anyway.”
With one last shake of his head, Murphy turned to start laying out ingredients on the counter.
There was truth to it; Bellamy could barely cook on a good day. He wouldn’t be much help with making elaborate smoked meats.
And he did smell a little ripe.
If he’d known how today would go, he would’ve taken the time to shower before work.
Somehow in the span of a single day, he’d gone from crushing on Clarke from afar to having her come to his house to have family dinner.
Maybe he should bring Madi to work more often—and take her to the toy store as a thank you.
***
Murphy kneaded seasoning into the pork loin, trying not to let his mind wander too much.
But apparently, that was easier said than done.
The memory of his drunk self fumbling and awkwardly slurring a pick-up line to Emori at Octavia’s wedding replayed over and over in his head.
It was the drunkest he’d ever been, not exactly a great first impression.
He’d been trying to tell her that she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. But the messaging got lost in translation.
True to form, Murphy met the girl of his dreams and proceeded to make a huge ass out of himself.
The odds he could win her over with a pork loin and some macaroni were low, but at least it could act as an apology for his embarrassing misstep.
“Char, can you help me make some macaroni salad?” He asked, still focused on making sure the seasoning made its way into the meat.
There was a snort behind him, but no actual answer.
“Charlotte?” He asked again, trying to keep his hands as still as possible as he turned to face her.
“What is with everyone today? You’re acting like you’re on crack, and dad is five seconds away from cleaning between the floorboards with a q-tip,” she groaned, typing furiously on her phone while she complained. “I swear nobody in this stupid house knows how to chill, it’s so annoying.”
Shit.
Charlotte was in a mood.
“Who peed in your Cheerios this morning?” He asked, knowing it wasn’t exactly a comforting statement, but if Charlotte wanted a motivational speech, she would’ve gone to Bellamy.
She scowled at him, the messy smudge of her eyeliner turning her eyes dark.
“Everyone keeps treating me like a baby,” Charlotte huffed. “Nobody ever thinks that maybe I have a life, and I don’t want to clean my stupid room or make macaroni salad.”
Of course, Charlotte had to decide to act like a teenager an hour before dinner with two women who seemingly made both his and Bellamy’s brains stop working.
“I uh—don't really know how to fix any of that right now,” he admitted, honesty had always been his go-to parenting style. “Would it be okay if we talk about this tomorrow? You don’t have to help with the pasta salad, and you can invite a friend tonight if you want.”
There was a beat of silence, and somehow Charlotte looked even more distressed.
“I don’t want to invite a friend,” she huffed, still annoyed. “I want to go to Mallory’s house. She’s having a party with high school boys.”
Quickly, he washed his hands, wiping them off on his jeans as he moved to hug Charlotte. He sometimes lost sight of how young she actually was, how hard it is to be that age. Everything felt like life or death, and gross parties with creepy boys were make or break social events.
“I love you, and I’m thrilled you told me about the party,” he said carefully, rubbing a soothing hand down her back. “But that party is going to be disgusting, and all those boys will be creepy. I can either let you go and come pick you up in thirty minutes when it sucks, or you can help me make brownies, and you can stay up to watch TV later.”
That earned him a small smile. Charlotte was the only person who knew how to make Aurora Blake’s brownies the right way, and she knew it.
It would be a good distraction, help her get her mind off a party she was too young to be worried about. Plus, it saved him a step. They were already running pretty behind.
“I’m still mad at you,” Charlotte said, taking a mixing bowl out from under the counter. “Everyone is going to think I’m a baby.”
Murphy frowned at that, unable to find the right words to explain to her how much better off she was being a baby. He wanted her to hold on to being young and innocent for as long as possible, to not have to push herself into the kind of adulthood that he did.
When he was just a little older than she is now, Murphy played gigs in smoky bars and stole sips from half-drunk beers.
He didn’t have a choice, no money, no parents, nowhere else to go. He hooked up with women that were too old for him and missed out on a lot of childhood innocence that he would never get back.
But Charlotte didn’t need to do that. She had so much life ahead of her.
Bellamy had always been the one to have the heart to heart conversations. Murphy didn’t feel equipped to handle this by himself.
“If anyone calls you a baby, tell them to take it up with me,” he deflected, flexing his meager bicep until Charlotte finally relented.
Telling Charlotte about his childhood could wait for another day.
***
“Yellow sundress?” Emori asked, smoothing her hands over her skirt.
Clarke applied her last layer of lipstick, turning to prop her shoulder on the bathroom door to examine Emori’s outfit.
“I like the red one better,” she announced, forcing Emori to go digging back into her closet for the outfit in question. “But I don’t really get it. Isn't Murphy the one who got wasted and made a really cringe attempt to flirt with you? Why are you freaking out so badly?”
Emori groaned.
She never should’ve told her friends that story.
“Yes, but I know him from before. I don’t think he remembers me, but…”
It was a half-truth. She did know John from before—in what felt like a different life.
“The desert” was a dive bar on the wrong side of Arkadia, not exactly a place for a fifteen-year-old. But she hadn’t had much choice, not when her options were either sitting with a cup on the side of the road or living off tips while she tried to finish high school without anyone noticing she was homeless.
John couldn’t have been much older than she was, but he spent every night up on the stage, playing his guitar while drunk patrons grabbed at him.
They crossed paths only occasionally, but whenever they did, he would come sit in her corner of the bar.
She’d been drawn to him even then, with his quiet jokes and careful smiles.
It always felt like there was something between them, like they understood each other in a way nobody else possibly could.
Until one day, CPS caught wind of her...and, she had to run.
She never expected to see him again. Especially not at her coworker’s sister’s wedding that she attended as a formality.
Of course, he hadn’t recognized her and flirted with her like she was just another random girl.
Emori couldn’t fault him for not putting two and two together, even if it did sting. Looking back at pictures of herself, with pink hair and a nose ring, nobody would guess she was the same person.
But John looked exactly the same, even though he went by his last name now, and he didn’t line his eyes with thick layers of black kohl.
She was proud of them. They’d both turned their lives around, made their way out of dirty dive bars.
Clarke smirked at her, turning back to finish curling her hair.
“You have the upper hand, you know, he’s the one who embarrassed himself. Just remember that,” she said with a shrug.
As Emori changed back into the red sundress, wishing she could tell Clarke the truth.
But nobody knew.
It was Emori’s most guarded secret, where she came from, who she was before she hosted the most popular talk show in Arkadia.
Dredging up the past wouldn’t do any good.
She didn’t want to dwell on it anymore.
All it was doing was making her cagey and nervous.
“Are we going to talk about Bellamy’s giant crush on you? I thought he was going to combust when he saw you walking around with Madi,” Emori teased, glad to take the focus off herself.
“We’re just coworkers,” Clarke said firmly, even as she applied another layer of lipstick that was surely not for a coworker.
“Mhmm, that's why you wear a push-up bra to work every day, right?”
“I—uh—-“
“Yup.”
They were both screwed in their own ways, about to head off to dinner with two men that neither of them could seem to think straight around.
***
“Don't wear your hair like that, it makes you look weird,” Charlotte said from the doorway, moving into Bellamy’s room to take the gel from his hand.
“It looks more formal that way,” he tried, half-heartedly pushing down a stay curl. Apparently, Emori wasn’t the only one who thought his hair looked better without gel.
“Messy is in right now, dad, ask anyone,” Charlotte sighed, like he was the dumbest person in the world.
She threw the bottle of gel on the bed before moving to dig through Bellamy’s closet.
“You should wear this!” She exclaimed, pulling a blue Henley out from behind his jackets.
He took the shirt from her, marveling at when exactly his daughter decided that she needed to start taking care of him. It was sweet, especially considering how angsty Charlotte could be lately. But it also broke his heart that she worried about him like this.
“I can pick out my own shirts, honey, I promise,” he smiled, taking the Henley from her. “But this is an excellent choice.”
He dropped a kiss on the top of her head, letting himself enjoy the rare peaceful moment with his almost teenage daughter.
“Yeah, but I do a better job,” Charlotte continued smugly, “I mean...apocalypse chic, much?” She pulled an army green jacket from his closet, wrinkling her nose in distaste.
Bellamy rolled his eyes, taking the jacket back from her just as the doorbell rang.
“Ohh, Emori is here! I want to watch uncle Murphy act like a dummy!” She said cheerfully, hugging Bellamy before she ran out of the room and down the stairs.
Bellamy changed quickly, grateful that Charlotte had picked out his outfit. Left to his own devices, it probably would’ve taken him another hour to figure out what to wear.
He’d just finished trying and failing to get his curls to sit flat, when he heard the thud of footsteps up the stairs and Madi’s voice.
“I share my room with Charlotte, that’s why there’s a piece of tape across the floor, she doesn’t like when I touch her stuff,” she rambled, “but I have lots of toys and a tea set and an American girl doll that Uncle Gabe gave me for Christmas.”
Carefully, Bellamy eased his door open, peeking around the corner as Madi and Clarke stood in the doorway to the girls’ room.
Clarke was listening intently, nodding as Madi introduced the room in painstaking detail.
His heart melted at the connection between the two of them. He was a little taken aback by how quickly Madi attached herself to Clarke. It was like they were kindred spirits or something.
But this also made his crush on Clarke at least ten times worse.
Not wanting to interrupt the moment, he slipped out of his room, tiptoeing down the stairs only to find Gabe standing in the living room.
“I didn’t say anything,” he shrugged, adjusting Eden on his hip. “But if I had known about this beforehand, I would’ve made other plans.”
Bellamy rolled his eyes, taking Eden out of Gabe’s arms.
“It’s just dinner, the kids are here,” he whispered, not wanting Clarke to overhear him.
“Yeah, that’s why you have the world's dopiest smile on your face, and Murphy has dropped at least three things in the kitchen since Emori got here,” Gabe smirked, rolling his eyes as he bumped his shoulders against Bellamy and disappeared into the kitchen.
With a sigh, he kissed Eden’s cheek, leaning his temple against her chubby face.
He didn’t know how to navigate this anymore, how to flirt with someone, and date with kids. He’d always been worried about bringing new people into their lives, confusing them, or making them feel like he was replacing Gina. But Clarke felt different. It was a huge step that Madi seemed to like her so much.
“Your daddy has no idea what he’s doing,” he whispered to Eden, bouncing her on his hip.
She babbled in response, turning her head to press a sloppy kiss to his cheek.
“Luh you dada,” she grinned toothily, and Bellamy’s nerves dissipated slightly.
“I love you too, little bean,” he smiled back, dipping her down and spinning her in a circle.
***
Clarke held Madi’s hand as she dragged her down the stairs. She still couldn’t figure out why exactly this little girl decided Clarke was her new best friend, but it felt like a massive compliment.
Bellamy was standing in the living room, holding a curly-haired toddler, essentially dancing around the room with her in his arms.
The sight of it was almost too endearing to bear.
This was the real Bellamy, his curls free from their usual styling, sleeves rolled up, face crinkled in a full laugh.
Until now, Clarke had thought she’d liked the idea of Bellamy. They barely knew each other after all. Her feelings for him were centered around his strong arms and warm smile.
But seeing him with his kids, dancing like nobody was watching, it just made her like him more.
“Hey,” he said, voice catching on a laugh as he slowed, allowing the baby to wiggle out of his arms and toddle around. “How was your tour?”
“It was great,” Clarke grinned, wiggling her fingers at Eden. “Madi was extensive. Your underwear drawer is extremely organized.”
With a wink, she held out a hand for Eden to take before all three girls left him gaping in the living room.
Clarke chewed on her bottom lip, trying to keep herself from blushing as they entered the kitchen.
Emori was perched on a barstool next to another curly-haired girl, watching as Murphy stirred Mac and cheese on the stove. They were all laughing, a clear improvement from the last time, and Emori was playing with her bracelets like she always did when she was nervous.
A good sign.
Not wanting to interrupt, Clarke let the younger girls lead her into the backyard.
“This is Picasso!” Madi exclaimed, bending down to wrap her arms around a scruffy golden retriever. “And uncle Gabe.”
Sure enough, a man in a white tunic was draped on the porch swing, fast asleep.
“Why don’t we go play on the swing, so we don’t wake him up,” Clarke whispered, leading the girls over to a well-worn playset.
She took turns pushing Madi and Eden on the swings until Bellamy joined them.
“Gabe works really weird hours, so he sleeps pretty much any chance he gets,” Bellamy explained, taking over pushing Eden, so they were standing side by side.
“What does he do?” Clarke asked, looking over to the still sleeping man. From the way he dressed, she figured he was a yoga instructor.
“He hosts a kids show.”
It only dawned on her then, that she’d seen him before. Usually, while switching channels early in the morning before work.
“Wizard Gabriel and the Magic Dragon,” she said, chuckling at the idea that the man in front of her spent his days in a purple velvet robe with a puppet on his hand.
“The one and only,” Bellamy confirmed, smiling back at her as he pushed Eden.
They let the girls swing, listening as Madi rambled about her day to Eden. The baby didn’t seem to be particularly interested in listening. Still, Madi wasn’t deterred, explaining her spelling lessons and the excitement of the set and the sandwich she ate for lunch.
“Clarke is really nice, I think you’ll like her,” she continued, talking as if Clarke wasn’t standing directly behind her pushing the swing.
“Cl’ke,” Eden repeated, sliding out of the swing so she could follow her sister toward a small pile of barbies.
“That’s right peaches, Clarke,” Bellamy nodded, sitting down beside his daughters and pointing to Clarke as he repeated her name.
Just when Clarke thought her heart couldn’t take any more, he had to go and do that.
Eden murmured her name over and over, almost like it was a song as she banged a Barbie doll on the ground.
The girls played between themselves, passing the dolls back and forth while pretending to have conversations about groceries and shoes.
It didn’t make much sense. They were obviously repeating lines from movies and TV without any context, but it was adorable all the same.
Bellamy tilted his head, scooting back in the grass, so they were a comfortable distance away from the girls. Still within sight, but out of earshot if they kept their voices down.
“Madi’s been going through a rough patch lately, but today, she seems like herself again,” he smiled, still looking over to where his daughters were playing. “Thank you for humoring all this.”
Clarke watched as Madi undressed a Barbie and chucked it clear across the lawn, cheering to herself when it hit the fence with a dull thud.
“We’re a house full of guys,” he continued, shaking his head as the doll slid slowly into the dirt. “Madi doesn’t get a lot of time with women. So I think little things like this mean a lot to her.”
His words took her by surprise.
It never occurred to Clarke that Madi latched on so quickly because she was a woman.
But it made sense. There was a lot of testosterone in this house.
Bellamy finally turned, meeting her gaze as they both leaned back in the clean grass.
He looked gorgeous like this, soft curls falling onto his forehead, a gentle smile on his face, the dark blue of his Henley contrasting with his tan skin and freckles.
Clarke could feel herself falling for him, really falling, not just for the way he looked. But with the way he swung his kids around, the way he spoke to them so gently, how genuinely appreciative he seemed that she did something as small as letting a little girl follow her around for the day.
It felt like too much, seeing Bellamy at home, hanging out with his family. He wasn’t an idea anymore. This version of him was real.
A living breathing person.
Clarke had forgotten what it was like to have a crush on someone, to be wholly consumed with the prospect of being with them.
This house, these people, this life, it was something she’d always longed for, something she’d never actually known.
There was chaos and laughter, and love, and Clarke never wanted to leave.
***
“Can you teach me how you do your hair like that?” Charlotte asked, bouncing excitedly in her chair as she reached out to toy with one of Emori’s curls.
“Of course,” Emori nodded, sneaking a glance at Murphy while he stirred something on the stove.
They hadn’t had much room to talk. Charlotte decided that Emori was her style icon and had been bombarding her with questions ever since.
Having a 12-year-old call her a queen was probably one of the best compliments she’d ever gotten, so she didn’t mind.
Plus, it gave her a chance to steady herself before she spent any time alone with Murphy.
“Can you taste this,” he asked, interrupting a question about a curling iron to hold out a spoon of coleslaw to Emori.
Truth be told, she hated the stuff, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.
One bite couldn’t hurt.
So she took the spoon from him and put it in her mouth.
Only to be met with a memory of being nine years old and throwing up coleslaw after running the mile in gym class.
The thought alone made her gag, but Murphy had the biggest smile on his face, so she sucked it up and plastered a smile on top.
“It’s delicious,” she managed to get out, swallowing thickly and hoping all her acting classes didn’t fail her now.
There was a long pause, and Murphy raised an eyebrow at her.
“You hate it,” he said bluntly, taking the spoon back to throw it in the sink. There was a hint of a smile in his voice as he looked at her expectantly.
Part of her wanted to double down, but of course, he was onto her.
“Okay, but it’s not you, I just really hate coleslaw,” Emori admitted, spitting the rest of her bite into a napkin.
Another pause, and then, Murphy burst into a laugh.
It was the best sound she’d ever heard, warm and gentle, his smile lighting up his entire face.
“You definitely didn’t have to eat it,” he choked out, bracing his hands on the counter as he laughed.
Relieved that he wasn’t offended, Emori laughed too, letting herself relax a little for the first time since they walked through the door.
She could feel Charlotte looking back and forth between them, a distinctly teenage smile on her face.
“You’re both so weird,” she giggled, reaching over the counter to try a bite of her own. “It needs salt.”
Emori smiled to herself as she helped John carry plates out to a picnic table in the backyard. Clarke and Bellamy were sprawled out in the grass, giggling like teenagers while two younger girls played beside them. It was a sweet scene, and Emori hoped that things would work out for them. After everything Clarke had been through, she deserved a little happiness.
They both did.
Weirdly, this whole thing felt too good to be true.
Emori kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but instead of existential dread, there was just a golden retriever and a giant plate of brownies.
The old picture of her and John weighed heavily in her pocket, the final piece of the puzzle, the one thing that had the potential to send this whole thing tumbling over.
Maybe...just this once, she would leave well enough alone.
The photo could wait for another day.
***
“Char, don’t forget to brush your teeth,” Bellamy called after her, receiving a sleepy wave in response as Charlotte trudged up the stairs.
The girls had insisted that Emori and Clarke stay for movie night, and they all tried their best to stay awake until the final credits of The Greatest Showman rolled. Only Charlotte had her eyes open by the end, and even she was hanging on by a thread.
Madi was sandwiched between Bellamy and Clarke, a giant bowl of wilted popcorn in her lap. She snored softly, her head pillowed on Bellamy’s bicep, her hand still holding on tightly to Clarke’s.
“I know you thanked me earlier, but I feel like I need to thank you too,” Clarke whispered, gently untangling her hand from Madi’s. “I can’t remember the last time I spent time with a family like this. It’s really special.”
She brushed a stray strand of hair from Madi’s forehead, letting her finger trail down the side of her chubby cheek.
They were alone now, nothing between them except a sleeping five-year-old. Murphy and Emori disappeared into the kitchen fifteen minutes before the movie ended, and Gabriel fell asleep shortly after dinner.
Bellamy didn’t really know where to go from here.
There was definitely something between him and Clarke, but it felt fragile, too delicate to push too far.
Friendship felt like a safe place to start.
“The girls love having you here,” he said, hoping she understood that he loved having her here too. “If you wanted to do this again sometime, I think they would really like that. Especially Madi.”
Bellamy was proud of himself; that was smoother than he’d expected. This would be an excellent way to ease into things, spend some more time together, and it seemed like it would be really good for the girls.
“I think I would like that too,” Clarke nodded, giving him a smile that seemed--almost nervous.
It gave him a little flutter of hope.
Maybe things were finally turning around for him.
***
“This might be kind of forward...but would you want to get coffee sometime?” Murphy asked, stomach plummeting to his feet as he stared at Emori over a sink full of dirty dishes.
He couldn’t have chosen a worse moment.
They were elbow deep in dirty water, the scratchy sound of the radio playing in the background. He wasn’t sure what came over him, but Emori had been laughing, and she looked so pretty, and something about her felt like home. He couldn’t place it, but it felt like he’d known her for his entire life, like they had a history beyond this moment in the kitchen.
She froze, lifting her hands out of the soapy water and drying them with a nearby towel.
It was only then that he noticed her fingers, two of them were fused together, and one was slightly longer than the other.
Suddenly, it all clicked into place.
Emori seemed familiar to him because they’d met before.
She seemed to recognize the moment he put two and two together, and from the look on her face, it was apparent that she already knew.
“I found this after Octavia’s wedding,” Emori said, voice hoarse as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.
Murphy dried his hands on his jeans and took it from her, unfolding it to find that it was actually a carefully preserved polaroid.
His fifteen-year-old face stared back at him, dressed in an oversized leather jacket, eyes lined with a heavy dose of guyliner. Beside him, tucked behind the bar, was Emori. It took him a second to recognize her. She had pink hair, heavy make-up, and an eyebrow ring, her hand wrapped carefully in a muslin sleeve.
“Oh my God.”
Never in a million years had he expected the girl from “the desert,” the only kind face from that season of his life, to find her way back to him.
After she vanished without a trace, he’d tried to look for her, but nobody ever seemed to know who she was.
Everyone who worked in the bar used a fake name, and he’d never been able to figure out who she actually was.
Until now.
Before Murphy could really wrap his head around what he was doing, he surged forward and kissed her.
And to his relief, she kissed him back.