Chapter Text
It was going to rain and Bellamy knew it the second he stepped outside on the sidewalk. He needed to get a run in, even if it was short lived and rained out. He hadn’t had time to run in weeks and once he finally did, he was going to take advantage of it. But first, he saw her.
She was in blue scrubs with a white zip-up hoodie on over them. She clearly had not been to sleep yet and it was a wonder she was holding herself up at all. But Bellamy couldn’t look away. Her hair fell in blonde waves over her shoulders and even though her eyes were so intent on the ground, he knew they were beautiful. He only stopped staring at her when she pulled her hand out of her pocket and a piece of paper fluttered behind her.
“Excuse me,” he called out, jogging after her so he could pick up the paper. She stopped, confused, and turned toward him. Up close, she looked even more exhausted but when he smiled at her, her features softened. “You dropped this.”
She took the paper out of his hand and opened it before letting out a relieved sigh and stuffing it back where it came from. “Thank you,” she smiled softly.
“You’re welcome,” he nodded and she hesitated a second before smiling again and turning away. He stayed stuck in his spot, watching her turn the corner, until the sky opened up and the rain fell. It looked like he wouldn't get a run in after all. He didn’t mind.
--
Clarke was kind of over her overnight shifts at the hospital. She missed her normal sleep schedule. She missed the daylight. Walking into a café before work had a very different effect when it was already dark outside. Apparently, people are even worse to baristas once the sun’s gone down.
“Shut up and get me my coffee,” the person in front of her said as soon as she was in line behind him. Clarke was typically a silent bystander. She didn’t get involved in other people’s problems, but the look on the girl’s face behind the counter fell from stony annoyance to offended pain. It didn't last long before her features hardened again and she threw a dirty look at the man one last time before going to make his coffee, but Clarke saw it. And she didn't like it.
"You can't talk to her like that," she nearly yelled and it seemed like all the sound in the café ceased at once as every face turned to look at her. Every face except the one she was talking to. All she could see when she looked at him was his head of dark curls, a blue button up shirt, and a brown leather messenger bag slung across his back. "Just because she makes your coffee doesn't give you the right to be an asshole."
"It's okay," the girl behind the counter insisted, standing on her toes so she could see over the machines between them. "He is an asshole and he knows it. Really, I'm fine."
"It's not okay," Clarke insisted, running her hands through her hair. "He has-"
She stopped abruptly when the man in question finally turned to face her. It was the runner she'd seen the day before. The one that stopped her and gave her the piece of paper she kept in her pocket day in and day out. Even then, she was fingering it, wearing the edges down even more than they already were. All sense of fight left her when his face softened and the girl behind the counter only looked confused.
"You," he said slowly and she sighed before nodding. "You're right, or you would be, but that's my sister and you have no idea what you're getting in the middle of."
Clarke almost shrunk in embarrassment. Of course they knew each other. She’d been in that café a thousand times and, though she didn’t know the girl behind the counter on a personal level, she knew her well enough to know she could stand up for herself. But she didn’t this time because of course it was her older brother talking to her—something she’d clearly gotten used to over twenty some odd years.
“I’m-“ she sputtered, looking between the siblings. The girl was smirking as she finished her brother’s drink. The boy—man—was waiting for her with a very patient look on his very handsome face. She’d noticed it the day before, how good looking he was, but that was at the end of a shift when she had no more energy. This time, she was fresh out of bed; she was as energetic as she would be all night. And she was not blind to his good looks. “Sorry,” she finished lamely.
“No,” he shrugged easily, glancing back at his sister. “It’s nice to know someone will stand up for her when someone else is being an ass.”
“Even when you’re the ass, big brother?” The girl asked and Clarke finally cracked a smile when she saw his face fall and his eyes flutter shut in embarrassment.
“Even then,” he admitted and Clarke’s smile widened. He turned around and grabbed his coffee before adjusting the strap over his shoulder. “We’ll talk about this later, O.”
“Whatever you say,” she smiled and he turned toward Clarke again.
“Have a good night at work,” he said with a nod and she nodded silently in return. She watched him leave the café with one last glance over his shoulder. She couldn’t tell if he was looking at her or his sister, but she didn’t really care; she was going to pretend it was her.
“What can I get you?” The girl—Octavia, she now noticed from her nametag—asked. There was a smile in her voice that Clarke saw for herself when she finally turned back to face her.
“Large black coffee, two sugars,” she mumbled and she wasn’t proud of herself for looking over her shoulder to hope for one last glance, but she did it anyway.
“What’s your name?” Octavia asked, calling her attention again and Clarke shook her head at her own lameness.
“What?” She asked, brows furrowed and the girl just smiled again.
“For the cup?” She clarified, tapping it with the end of a marker.
“Oh, uh, Clarke,” she answered. “With an ‘e’ at the end.”
“Clarke with an ‘e’ at the end,” Octavia nodded as she wrote it down. “It’ll just be a minute.”
Clarke nodded and went to the end of the counter to lean against the window. She silently berated herself for getting involved and then again for not being able to say anything real to the person she yelled at.
“He’s not actually an asshole,” Octavia said when she showed up with her coffee and Clarke pushed herself to stand straight again. “I just told him about the guy I’m seeing. The much older guy he doesn’t approve of even though he’s never met him. But he’s not an ass; he’s just protective. And he’s stressed. He’s working tonight, too. And he worked all day. Teacher,” she finished with a shrug and Clarke nodded in understanding. “Finals to grade, you know?”
“I’m sorry for getting involved,” she told her and Octavia shrugged easily. “It was none of my business.”
“Hey, no, if it were anyone else telling me to shut up and make me their coffee, I would really appreciate it,” she promised. “But it seemed like you two know each other… And I’ve never heard of a Clarke before.”
“We don’t,” she explained and Octavia just narrowed her eyes in suspicious disbelief. “Yesterday morning, on my way home from work, I passed him on the street. He stopped me when I dropped something that means a lot to me. I said thank you and that was that. I’ve never met him before that. I haven’t even officially met him.”
“You should,” Octavia smiled again and Clarke laughed. “Seriously. Give me your number, I’ll give it to him. He doesn’t usually have a thing for blondes, but I think I saw him making an exception this time around.”
“You’re crazy,” Clarke laughed and she just shook her head. “And anyway, I believe in the rule of threes.”
“I… Don’t know what that means,” Octavia admitted and Clarke nodded quickly, leaning down so her elbows were against the counter. She was thankful it was dead inside the café, and that the hospital was right around the corner, because she wasn’t quite ready to leave the conversation. She liked Octavia and she didn’t even know her.
“So, it’s this theory I have,” she explained and Octavia nodded for her to continue, perching on the edge of the counter. “No rash decisions. I won’t make any moves until I’ve met someone at least three times.”
“You must not go on a lot of dates if you’re playing by those rules,” Octavia pondered aloud, not unkindly.
“Or I’ve been burned so much because of my rash decisions and it’s time to try something new,” Clarke shrugged, standing tall again. “Either way, it’s keeping me in line.”
“I like you,” Octavia told her suddenly. “Are you sure you don’t want to give me your number? Bellamy would be lucky to get a date,” she said and Clarke smiled, but shook her head. “His loss, I guess. He’ll just sit at home with his dog, Gus, every night for the rest of his sad, lonely life.”
“Gus? As in Augustus?” Clarke asked, curiosity piquing and Octavia nodded with a look of wonder.
“How’d you know that?” She asked, sliding off the counter to wipe it down with a rag.
“Augustus had a sister,” Clarke smiled, pointing to her nametag and her jaw dropped in delight.
“He’d be so turned on right now if he could hear you talking like that,” Octavia told her and Clarke laughed. “Seriously, he’d be halfway in love with you already.”
“We’ll see what fate has in store for us, then,” she shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. “I should go. It was really nice talking to you.”
“Yeah, you too,” Octavia smiled. “See you soon.”
“You will,” Clarke promised.
--
Bellamy only had one more stack of finals to grade, but he had to get away from them. He needed to get away from Gus and his loud snoring. He needed to get out of his apartment and go anywhere else. The night before, after being yelled at by arguably the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, he spent the entire night grading. He was up well past midnight grading fifteen page papers and he was tempted to give the other thirty students Bs just so he didn’t have to read anymore. But he wasn’t that kind of teacher. He liked to think he was good, that he was fair. At least he liked the topic he was forced to read about sixty times over.
The bookstore probably wasn’t the most original idea for a high school teacher to wander into on a Saturday night, but he didn’t care. He needed something to read for fun once grading was finally done. Summer break was right around the corner and he didn’t have many plans. His bookshelf was full of books he’d read in summers past. He needed something new. Plus, it was the one place he knew he wouldn’t run into any of his students. Not on a Saturday night. Not when summer vacation was so close they could taste it.
He wandered through the history section, then the biography section, picking up three books in the process, before stepping into the first row of fiction. He glanced over the new titles as he walked by, stopping at the end of the aisle when he saw a familiar blonde head down at the other end of the store.
For the first time, she wasn’t wearing scrubs, but was in a pair of jeans—torn at the knees and rolled at the ankle—and a long-sleeve Henley that happened to match the one he was wearing. Hers just happened to be tighter and a slightly lighter blue.
Again, just like the first time he’d seen her, he was stuck in his spot staring at her. The night before wasn’t a proud moment for him, being caught by a pretty stranger for yelling at a barista. Yes, it happened to be his little sister, but how would anyone else know that? He knew better than that, but it was difficult to keep his cool sometimes. He was a big brother first. Always.
He wasn’t proud again, when she turned with a book in her hands and found him staring at him. But then, she smiled, one hand sliding into her pocket before coming out quickly. He smiled back, unable to stop himself, and they began walking toward each other. She waved. He waved back. And then she laughed. Giggled, almost, but it was more than that. She was honestly amused with the situation at hand.
“You again,” he said and she nodded, putting her hands and the book in them behind her back.
“Clarke,” she corrected and he nodded, scratching his chest between the open buttons of his shirt. “Bellamy, right?”
His eyes narrowed and his hand fell, but he nodded. “How did you know that?” He asked and for a split second she looked embarrassed, like she’d said too much.
“Um, your sister told me,” she said sheepishly and he nodded. Of course she and Octavia talked about him after he left. He would have done the same thing in her position. “I like her. She’s great.”
“She’s okay,” Bellamy lied, smiling, and she laughed. “I hope you know that I’m not- that I don’t try to be an asshole.”
“Don’t worry, she convinced me of that,” Clarke promised and he sighed, nodding. For some reason, he cared what this stranger thought about him.
“I’m almost tempted to ask what else she said about me, but I’m not so sure I want to know,” he admitted and she shrugged, biting her bottom lip. It made him a little weak in the knees.
“All good things,” she promised and he laughed, looking her up and down. He couldn’t help himself. The buttons of her own shirt were spread open and her pants sat perfectly on her hips. “We match,” she said suddenly and her eyes snapped back to hers.
“So we do,” he smiled, pretending that was what he was just thinking. “Great minds,” he said, tapping his head and she laughed again. He was really starting to like that sound. “No work tonight?”
“I don’t actually work the night shift usually,” she admitted. “I switched with a friend for the week and now I’m starting back on days on Monday. I’m almost positive if I stayed home any longer, I’d be passed out in front of my TV right now. My sleep schedule is all out of whack.”
“So, you’re forcing yourself to wander around the bookstore to keep awake?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow and she shook her head.
“This is my happy place,” she admitted with a shy smile before nodding to the pile of books he was holding against his hip. “Yours, too?”
“One of them,” he told her and her smile turned more confident before a yawn escaped between her lips. “You should go get some rest,” he offered and she looked like she was going to argue, but then she yawned again.
“I guess I should,” she sighed, twisting a piece of hair behind her ear. “I want to say I’ll see you tomorrow, but I don’t want to jinx it.”
Bellamy felt his face heat up and he thanked his tan skin for keeping most of his blush under wraps. She still caught it, though, and she looked so proud of herself. She should have been. It wasn’t every day Bellamy Blake found himself blushing.
“Or we could just… See each other on purpose?” He asked and she nodded, eyes sparkling. “I should be finished grading by six. Do you want to get dinner?”
It was Clarke’s turn to blush and it only made Bellamy’s stomach twist. She was gorgeous.
“I would really like that,” she said, putting her book down on a nearby shelf before crooking her finger at his stack. He laughed, but handed her one—a biography of Winston Churchill—and she smiled gratefully before reaching into her purse and pulling out a pen. He watched with great delight as she jotted her phone number down on the inside cover. “I hope you’re not super protective of your books,” she said, handing it back.
“No, I like them to look like they’ve actually been read,” he promised and she smiled before dropping her pen back into her bag. “And even better if they have a girl’s number in them.”
“I bet you’ve got a whole shelf of ‘em,” she teased and he shook his head slowly, seriously. Her own face turned serious before erupting into another smile. “I should go. Before I fall asleep in public and you change your mind.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promised and she nodded before brushing past him, her hand lingering on his shoulder as she went. He turned to watch her walk away—again—and when she turned back to look at him over her shoulder, she waved and he had a feeling it was more a beginning than a goodbye. It was the start of something beautiful, something real.