Chapter Text
It’s 12am and Clarke sits on the bottom step of a house that’s no longer hers. Tears are on her cheeks and her hands are shaking and she can think of nothing to say, nobody to call in this moment.
She needs to get away from here, anywhere, she doesn’t care. She just has to get away from this godforsaken house.
She can hear Finn rushing downstairs so she runs, she runs to the street corner and she pulls her phone out with shaky hands, searching for the one number she can call now; the one number who will pick up no matter what time she calls and what she wants him for.
Then she finds him.
Bellamy Blake.
“Always a pleasure, Princess.” He answers the phone on the second ring and she kind of smiles at his voice. He must hear a sniffle or something on the other end because she can practically hear the smirk fall from his face. “Clarke? Clarke, what’s wrong? Tell me.” He demands in a brotherly tone - Bellamy Blake might as well be her family with the amount of messes he's gotten her out of - “Clarke, are you hurt? Where are you?” She doesn’t know how to answer his questions but she needs to say something to stop him from combusting so she speaks.
“Finn’s.” Is all she says and Bellamy lets out a deep breath, the slightest bit of agitation slipping through despite what Clarke knows is his most controlled efforts.
“Did he do something to you? Did he hurt you?” He asks, and Clarke can’t say no - Finn has hurt her, he’s hurt her more than she ever thought she’d given him the space to do so she stays quiet. She could lie, of course, but that thought never crosses her mind when it comes to Bellamy, maybe because the man himself is so damn honest (even if his honesty cuts, even if it bleeds).
“I swear to God,” she can hear ruffling which means that Bellamy’s getting dressed. She vaguely hopes she hasn’t interrupted one of his booty calls (That’s a lie; she always feels a sadistic twist of pleasure when she walks into Bellamy’s and sees one of his girls with an irritated expression and a sour mouth as he pleasantly kicks them out of his house). “If he’s laid one finger on you, I swear to God I’ll kill him.” She laughs breathily and shakes her head, forgetting for a second that he isn’t with her (It's all too easy to forget with his voice so close to her like this, so intimate).
“No, Bell. He didn't touch me. Not once.” Bellamy sighs with relief.
“I’ll be there in 10 minutes, Princess. Do you want me to stay on the phone?”
“Whatever but don’t go to Finn’s. I’m not outside Finn’s, I’m on the corner.” Bellamy lets out something of a growl.
“Make it five.”
True to his word, little over five minutes later Bellamy pulls up at Clarke’s corner with concerned eyes as he flies out of the car and looks her over, checking for any cuts or bruises, presumably.
“I’m fine.” She lies, and he raises an unimpressed eyebrow but doesn’t comment.
“Where do you want me to take you?” He asks her as he opens her car door for her. She climbs in wordlessly and he throws a hoodie in after her. “Put that on, you’re freezing.” She smiles half-heartedly and he frowns a little on her before shutting the door gently and jogging around the front of the beat up Chevvy, getting in the driver’s door. “My place?” She says nothing. He nods, as if this is an affirmation to something. “Okay.” And then he doesn’t speak again. Clarke thinks idly that if this was anybody else - Octavia, Jasper, Monty, her mother, or stepfather Kane (anybody at all) - they’d ask a million questions and voice their concerns, but Bellamy doesn’t. She thinks that that’s probably why she always turns to him in times like this. She and Bellamy may never see eye to eye, but he was still the first one she turned to when her mother was in that accident, and when Wells died. Then later, when Charlotte died and the Arktown Care Home was almost shut down nearby (Bellamy had tried to pretend that he didn’t care, but Clarke knew he did). He never speaks unless she wants him to, and he never shows concern more than the odd glance out of the corner of his eye as he drives her wherever she wants to go.
“We’re here.” Bellamy points out as he climbs out of the car, running around to bundle Clarke out too.
“Bellamy.” She says quietly. “I’m not a goddamn China Doll. I won’t break if I fall.”
“I know, but I think you’ve fallen hard enough for one day, don’t you?” He glances up at her through his eyelashes as he leads her to his front door.
“No girls tonight?” She asks dryly and he chuckles and shakes his head, unlocking the door swiftly and allowing her into the house before him. She follows the familiar route to his living room, with him hot on her heels.
“Not tonight, Clarke.” She nods a little and rolls her eyes. He settles into the brown leather couch beat up couch that he's had since she met him when she was 16.
“Bellamy, go to bed.” She says. “It’s 1 in the morning and I woke you up to bring me home.” He glances up at her but shakes his head.
“Clarke it’s fine. You go to bed. I’m fine on the couch.” She raises her eyebrow sceptically. She’s positive he made Jasper sleep on the couch last week because he wasn’t because it gave a ‘creak in the neck like a motherfucker’. She relays this to him and he laughs, just repeating the same words. “I'm a big boy, I can deal with it. I'll speak to you in the morning.” He prompts, when she doesn't leave.
“Just come with me Bellamy.” She sighs in a no-nonsense tone, right hand firm on her hip (these are the squabbles he knows to give up on, when she's being stubborn like this).
“Damn girl, you’re moving on fast.” He grins at her but it falls away when she doesn’t smile back.
“I need some company tonight.” She admits quietly.
“As long as you don’t try anything.” He says lightly. She turns to reply angrily but her retorts fall from her lips when she sees his smirk.
“Damn you.” She mutters and he laughs loudly.
In bed, with Bellamy nowhere near Clarke, on the other side of the bed (all she needs is to feel the warmth of somebody beside her) and her head on his pillow, inhaling his scent, she feels for the first time like everything’s going to be okay, maybe things aren’t as bad as they seem.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
“In the morning okay?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”