Work Text:
1.
The moment that Clarke hears the front door slam, she knows two things. The first is that Bellamy is home, and the second is that he knows.
“Clarke!” he shouts. She imagines that it was meant to be a question and a statement, his personal version of ‘honey, I’m home’. What it actually sounds like is a vicious roar designed to make lesser people tremble. Clarke sighs and makes her way to the living room with an exasperated smile on her face.
“Hi, Bellamy, nice to see you too. Did you have a good day?” she asks sweetly. He narrows his eyes. His face is flushed and his jaw is tight. Honestly, Clarke’s not sure she’s seen him this mad since he was a rebellious teenager with a chip on his shoulder
“Did I have a good day?” he asks in disbelief. “Have you lost your damn mind?” Clarke sighs again.
“I am still possessed of my faculties, yes,” Clarke replies, and she leans her shoulder against the wall, folding her arms. He stares at her in silence for a moment while Clarke waits patiently for him to get to his point. His jaw works again. She wonders if she should feel sorry for him.
“So you aren’t going to do art therapy at one of the highest security juvenile detention centres in the state?” Bellamy asks, and while Clarke knows he’s being sarcastic, there is almost an edge of hope that he’d gotten it wrong.
“The same juvenile detention centre that you work out, Bellamy. Don’t be a hypocrite. Weren’t you just telling me the other week that those kids needed a new outlet?” Clarke challenged him. Bellamy balled his hands into fists. It is at this point that Clarke thinks this may be he is most angry she’s ever seen him. About her doing her job. In a slightly higher risk environment than normal, but her job nonetheless. She thinks about saying it, but she knows him well enough to see that he’s processing. He looks away from her and his hands release. She tries not to smile at the signs of fight leaving him.
“It’s not safe,” he mutters. He looks up at her. “I don’t like that it’s not safe.” Clarke finds her mouth slightly dry at the raw look on his face. She has watched him bring up his sister, Octavia, after their mother’s death. She has watched him protect his sister for years. Clarke presses her lips together.
“It’s not your job to keep me safe, Bellamy. I’m not your sister,” Clarke says gently. Bellamy scowls at her.
“I’m well aware you’re not my sister, Clarke,” he bites at her. “But I just think you need to consider the risk you’re taking going in to a place like that.” Clarke tries not to roll her eyes.
“I literally visit three different locked psychiatric wards a week. I understand risk. And there will be a guard or whatever there all the time. It’s not that big of a risk,” Clarke reminds him, pushing herself off the wall. Bellamy looks deeply unhappy still, but she offers him a smile. He mutters something under his breath that she can’t quite catch, but she imagines it is something along his usual over-protective bent.
“Come on, there’s lasagne to reheat and whiskey to drink,” Clarke offers, heading into the kitchen. He’s an idiot, but after over a decade of friendship, he’s definitely her idiot.
The following week when Clarke arrives at the detention centre, she is met with a grumpy Bellamy Blake who has managed to be assigned to her art therapy group. For all of the twelve weeks she has been contracted for. She is not the least bit surprised at this turn of events. She is delighted to find out that he has had to trade shifts for this from his co-worker, Miller, and they both spend a night drunkenly teasing him about it, while Bellamy ignores them and flirts unsuccessfully with the bartender.
2.
“Bellamy Blake, are you out of your damn mind?” Clarke shouts as she slams their apartment door closed behind her. Bellamy looks up from the book he is reading on the couch, eyebrows raised.
“What have I done this time?” he asked her tiredly. Clarke narrowed her eyes.
“You know what you’ve done. You want to explain to me why I got a phone call from a sobbing Octavia?” Clarke demands, dropping her satchel on the ground by the couch heavily and flopping into the arm chair. Bellamy sighed loudly.
“Does she really feel the need to call you every time she thinks I’ve been unfair?” he asks her. “It’s not like you’re her mother.” Clarke raises her eyebrows at him. There is a strange twinge in her stomach at his words, though. Because Clarke has been there since Aurora died and Bellamy got custody. She was the one who helped her buy her first bra and gave her the safe sex talk that Bellamy couldn’t quite manage. She’s been there for tears and laughter and most major holidays for the past ten years, and for all that she knows that she isn’t Octavia’s mother, there is a part of her that feels like she is, just as much as Bellamy isn’t just her brother.
“Yeah, and you’re not her father. Doesn’t stop you giving the shovel talk to guys and scaring the living shit out of her prom date,” Clarke replies in the end. Bellamy grins at her.
“You helped with the prom date. I’m still impressed you got the blood looking so realistic,” he says, and she can’t help but laugh at the memory of Bellamy standing in the plastic covered hallway with a chainsaw and fake blood everywhere, and Atom stammering while Octavia huffs about how embarrassed she is. She shakes her head, clearing the memory.
“Lincoln is a nice guy. He’s responsible, he’s mature, and he loves your sister,” Clarke tells him. Bellamy shakes his head.
“He’s too old for her,” Bellamy retorts, finally putting his book down after marking the page. “It’s creepy and weird. What would a twenty-six year old man want with a nineteen year old girl?” Clarke raises her eyebrows.
“Roma,” she reminds him. Bellamy glares at her. “You were twenty-five and she was eighteen.”
“Well, that’s kind of my point, isn’t it? I didn’t exactly want a relationship with the girl, did I?” Bellamy counters. “I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m the kind of guy I want to protect my little sister from sometimes.” Clarke rolls her eyes and sighs again. “Besides,” he adds, “I was very clear about what was going to happen and she wasn’t exactly inexperienced.” Clarke pulls a face at him.
“Well, luckily for you and Octavia, Lincoln is…,” Clarke paused, struggling to find a word that was both accurate and inoffensive while Bellamy looked on waiting to pounce on whatever she said. “Not like that,” she finished lamely. Bellamy raised an eyebrow and offered her a smirk. She scoffed and threw her hands up.
“You’re a dick,” Clarke tells him. “And Lincoln is one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. He’s Monty-nice.” Bellamy’s look darkens.
“You’ve met him?” Bellamy asks in disbelief. “You knew. You knew and you didn’t tell me.” Clarke winces. “Why did she tell you first.”
“Don’t get mad,” Clarke begins.
“Oh god,” Bellamy cuts in. “You didn’t.”
“But I introduced them. Accidentally,” Clarke admits. Bellamy scowls at her. She shrugs. “It wasn’t like I set out to do it. Lincoln and I were having lunch and we ran into Octavia and they just hit it off right away.” Bellamy gives her a funny look.
“Were you… were you on a date with him?” Bellamy asks, his voice sounding forced but light. Clarke grimaces.
“Ew, no. Too muscly. And tall. I feel like a fracking pixie next to him and I hate it. We were in the same graduating class,” Clarke explains. Bellamy looks less than happy.
“Why have I not heard about him before? And you are a pixie. Oh god, he’s going to crush Octavia,” Bellamy says, covering his face with his hands. Clarke rolls her eyes at his theatrics.
“Calm down. And if you ever listened when I talked about class you would have heard about him, instead of throwing M&Ms at my head and telling me to shut up and let you study. And you do remember that your sister is an accomplished kickboxer?” Clarke asks him dryly. “And Lincoln is a teddy bear. He might be ripped, but he’s still a teddy bear.” Bellamy slumps backwards on the couch and makes a noise that sounds like defeat. Clarke presses her lips together to hide her smile.
“She’s my little sister,” he says weakly.
“I know,” Clarke replies sympathetically.
“It’s her first serious, real boyfriend,” he adds, closing his eyes. Clarke is no longer able to hide her smile.
“I know. But she’s chosen well, and you raised her right,” she says soothingly. Bellamy sighs and slumps further into the couch.
“I don’t have to like it. But I won’t be a dick,” Bellamy says in defeat. Clarke raises her eyebrows, and Bellamy rolls his eyes. “Fine, I’ll try not to be a dick.” Clarke smiles at him proudly.
“Do you want a drink?” Clarke asks. He nods slowly. Clarke is trying not to be charmed by how dejected he looks.
“Whiskey. And a movie night?” Bellamy asks hopefully.
“Sure. You can even pick and I won’t use a veto. But we’re having Lincoln and O over for dinner next week. No fake blood or shovels,” Clarke bargains. Bellamy folds his arm as she pours the drinks. She gives him a minute to think about it. She hears him huff from the kitchen and she grins, glad he can’t see her face.
“Fine. But we’re getting curry delivered and you’re buying,” Bellamy calls to her. She walks into the room and gives him a look of disbelief.
“You’re already getting to pick the movie, and I shouldn’t have to bribe you to be a good brother,” Clarke says, handing him the whiskey and sitting next to him on the couch. “And I bought Chinese last week when you lost the basketball game.” He curls around her, resting his head on her shoulder.
“Fine,” he agrees, still dejected. “But you have to make caramel self-saucing pudding when we have them over because it’s the Blake favourite and she’ll be nervous and I’ll be stressed.” Clarke pats his leg consolingly.
“I’ll make the dessert. Everything will be fine,” Clarke told him. He leaned into her, as he brought up Netflix on his phone to pick the movie.
A week later, after Lincoln and Octavia had left, Bellamy was forced to admit that Lincoln was a surprisingly nice guy and seemed to dote on his sister. Clarke tried really, really hard not to say ‘I told you so’. And failed. So completely, in fact, that she ended up doing a celebration dance about how she was right and he was wrong. She completely missed the look on his face as he watched her, and how similar it was to Lincoln’s face when he looked at Octavia.
3.
Since announcing her engagement, Octavia Blake had begun planning her wedding with militant precision. She had booked the venue, photographer, caterer, and wedding band within the first two weeks. Lincoln tried to slow her down, reminding her that they had a whole year until they got married, but Octavia would not be deterred. Clarke had been offered the title of maid of honour, and had not fully understood exactly how much work this would entail, though she supposes that she shouldn’t have been surprised. It’s not like she didn’t know Octavia before she agreed to it. The build up at been intense, but they were in the home stretch, with the RSVP date looming. Clarke had handed her RSVP to Octavia a week ago, so she was incredibly surprised to find Octavia banging on her and Bellamy’s front door at 9pm on a Saturday night.
“Is everything okay?” Clarke asked, taking in a dishevelled and distressed Octavia, stepping aside to let her in. “Bellamy is at work, but I-“
“Have you lost your damn mind?” Octavia demanded, stepping right into Clarke’s personal space, thrusting her RSVP in her face. Clarke leaned back and swallowed nervously. This had not been the reaction she was expecting.
“Uh… I’m going to need a little bit more to go on, O,” Clarke said, side stepping around the incensed girl. Octavia scowled at her, shoving the door shut behind her and following Clarke.
“I can’t believe you’re bringing a plus one to the wedding!” Octavia shouted. Clarke’s eyes widened in shock.
“Oh, um, right. Yeah, look, if it’s a problem, she doesn’t have to come,” Clarke offered. “But the invitation said Clarke Griffin and Guest, so I assumed it was fine.” Octavia’s scowl darkened.
“It was a standard frigging invite. It wasn’t an invitation to bring a frigging date,” Octavia threw at her. Then she paused, scowl falling of her face, and she looked at Clarke thoughtfully. “It isn’t, like, an actual date, is it? Raven’s not your girlfriend girlfriend?” Clarke shook her head and tried not to smile too much.
“No, she’s just a friend. I just figured that I’m not going to know many people, and Bellamy said you’d invited Miller, and Jas and Monty. So I figured I might as well bring a friend to hang out with,” Clarke shrugged. “But it’s not a big deal if you don’t want her to come.” Octavia sighed in relief and flopped onto the couch.
“Thank god! I don’t think Bell could handle watching you date again, especially at my wedding,” Octavia said, and then looked up at Clarke horrified. “I shouldn’t have said that.” Clarke felt her stomach do something not unlike a form of gymnastics, but she wasn’t sure if it was a good flip, or a bad flip. She took a breath and looked at Octavia carefully.
“Octavia, what are you talking about?” Clarke asked slowly. Octavia winced.
“You can’t tell Bell I told you,” she said. Clarke raised her eyebrows. “But, I mean, it’s not like it’s a secret or anything. Everyone knows,” she rambled. Clarke frowned.
“Get to the point, O,” Clarke cut in. Octavia looked up at her and offered a weak shrug.
“He’s in love with you,” she said, as though it were a simple fact, not something that made Clarke’s stomach feel more like a vacuum than a part of the digestive process. “He has been for years. But he only figured it out last year, I think.” Clarke swallowed, trying to process this new information in a way that makes sense, and she found herself sitting beside Octavia without knowing precisely how she got there.
“He can’t be,” Clarke said after a moment. “He would have said something.” Octavia raised her eyebrows.
“You’ve been my brother’s best friend for over a decade. You know as well as I do that he’s shitty at doing emotions. It comes out as gruff protectiveness and lurking,” Octavia said dryly, and Clarke managed a laugh at that.
“But he can’t be. We live together. He’s… he…,” Clarke trailed off, suddenly unable to remember the last time Bellamy had engaged in one of his trademark one night stands, and she couldn’t. She thought about Bellamy’s drinking habits, and the way how, now she thought about it, he kind of ignored it when girls flirted with him. Octavia gave her a knowing look. Clarke wondered if she was going to throw up. “Oh,” Clarke finished lamely. “You might be right.” Octavia rolled her eyes.
“Of course I’m right, I’m always right,” Octavia informed her, and Clarke offered a weak smile, still staring off into the middle distance processing. They sat together in silence for a few moments.
“You do know that you’re in love with him, right?” Octavia asked like she was speaking to an idiot. And god, maybe she was. Clarke frowned.
“I am n-,” Clarke began to protest, and the she paused, frowning. Octavia grinned at her. Clarke flashed back to the nights they spent curled on the couch together, the dinners they shared, his presence in her life at all really, her best friend who she might want to make out with. And possibly marry. And have babies with. Clarke flashed back to Octavia’s early teen years. Maybe not babies. But definitely be with always. Her face drained of colour and she looked at Octavia in shock. “Oh. Shit. I think I might be in love with your brother.” Octavia laughed and patted her knee consolingly.
“I know, babe. But it’s all going to be okay,” Octavia soothed. Clarke shook her head.
“It’s… it’s not okay. Oh god, I’m going to need to move out,” Clarke said, panicking. She put her hands over her mouth. “Oh god, this is going to be so awkward. And awful. But you said... he… I… oh this is not good and would you please stop laughing, Octavia!”
“You guys have been basically married without conjugal privileges for as long as I can remember. Seriously, you do not need to stress. Don’t bring a date to my wedding, dance with Bellamy to a slow song, and he’ll kiss you, and then you’ll come back here and live happily ever after,” Octavia said gleefully, clapping her hands. Clarke frowned.
“O, this isn’t a romance novel. It’s my life. It’s my love life. And my love life was probably cursed by a gypsy. This is going to go horribly and I’m going to lose my best friend. I just need to pretend you never came over and I never realised I was in love with him and everything will be just like it always has been,” Clarke replied, resting her head against the couch and staring up at the ceiling. Octavia shook her head sadly.
“Don’t be an idiot, Clarke. Everyone thinks you’re together when they meet you guys. And when he tells you, you better not break his heart, or I swear I won’t be responsible for my actions,” Octavia said, exasperated. Clarke rolled her head to the side to look at her.
“Really? You’re going to give the woman who gave you the sex talk the shovel talk?” Clarke asked dryly. Octavia grinned.
“I give all Bell’s girlfriends the shovel talk. And yours,” she added. Clarke laughed.
“I do love you, O. And I won’t bring a date to the wedding. But that’s all you’re getting,” Clarke replied. Octavia cuddled in under Clarke’s arm.
“I love you, too, Clarke,” Octavia replied. “I just want you and Bell to be happy like Lincoln and I are. With each other.” Clarke sighed and kissed the top of her head.
“We’ll see,” Clarke replies tiredly. This has been a lot of emotional revelation for one night, and she’s still not sure how she’s going to react when she sees Bellamy next. Or sees him shirtless. And thinks about licking his abs, and what fine abs they were… crap, she thinks to herself. I’m screwed. She barely as time to finish this thought when the door flies open in that way that only Bellamy can manage and she starts, knocking Octavia off her and looking up at him in shock.
Bellamy takes a moment in the doorway to look at Octavia’s smile and Clarke’s shock. He frowned for a beat, before offering them a smile.
“What’s up with my two best girls?” he asks, kicking of his shoes and sliding them under the shoe rack. He folds his arms across the back of the arm chair. Octavia screws up her nose, and Clarke tries not to look panicked. Because she definitely feels panicked. And awkward. And she’s never been less fond of Octavia than right now, including the time she stayed over so Bellamy could have some down time and applied literally all of her make up.
“Just wedding stuff. There was a problem with one of the RSVPs, so I came over to discuss it with Clarke,” Octavia said, and Clarke was impressed at the amount of honesty in what was essentially a cover story. Clarke wondered exactly how much Octavia had covered over the years with her not-quite-the-whole—truth tales. Bellamy was laughing, and Clarke was pulled out of her thoughts.
“Ah yes, wedding stuff. Whatever will we do with ourselves in a month when there is no more wedding to obsess over?” Bellamy asked dryly, heading for the kitchen. He looked over his shoulder at Clarke. “Is there any food?” Clarke nodded.
“Yeah, there’s a plate of teriyaki stir fry in the microwave,” Clarke said automatically, and he grinned at her. She prayed she wouldn’t blush, because she certainly felt like blushing. Did he always smile at her like that?
“Thanks Clarke, you’re the best,” Bellamy said, disappearing into the kitchen. She looked back at Octavia who was literally beaming.
“Married,” Octavia said.
“Shut up,” Clarke replied. “Go home. You’re not welcome here anymore.” Octavia laughed delightedly, but she got up to leave.
“You love me,” Octavia replied. “Bye Bell!” Bellamy stuck his head around the corner and waved.
“Be good,” he called back.
“Never,” Octavia sang.
“Okay, just don’t get caught,” Bellamy replied before disappearing back into the kitchen. Octavia gave Clarke one last hug before leaving, and Clarke sat alone in the lounge room wondering what the hell she was going to do about this.
Bellamy flopped beside her on the couch, plate in hand. He smiled at her softly.
“Thanks for dinner,” he said softly. She managed a small smile. He frowned slightly. “Are you okay? You don’t look okay.” Clarke winced.
“I’m fine. Just tired. I think I’ll go to bed,” Clarke explained, praying she didn’t sound as awkward as she felt. He was still frowning.
“I know you know, but you can talk to me. If something isn’t okay, I mean,” Bellamy said, causing her to pause halfway across the room. She smiled at him, genuinely this time.
“I know,” she said, because it was true. And then she felt sick, because maybe it wasn’t as true as it would have been half an hour ago. “Back at you,” she said, and she meant it too. A muscle in Bellamy’s jaw twitched, his tell. She knew it was his tell. And she’d call him on it, but she was afraid of what it might be, so pretended she hadn’t seen it.
“Night, Bell,” she said, and didn’t wait for his answering call before she left the room. But she heard it anyway.
“Sweet dreams, Clarke.”
4.
“They did this on purpose,” Bellamy said, standing in front of her awkwardly, holding a garter. Clarke nodded.
“They definitely schemed this somehow. I don’t know how you can rig tossing and catching of objects, but I’m sure they did it,” Clarke agreed, holding a bouquet. Bellamy cut his eyes to Octavia, standing in Lincoln’s arms, watching them.
“I don’t think we have a choice here,” Bellamy apologised. “You know what she’s like.” Clarke nodded again.
“Yep. It’s one dance. I’m sure we can manage it,” Clarke offered. Bellamy nodded as the music started. Bellamy winced when he heard the opening and strains of Bright Eyes’ ‘First Day of My Life’ and glared at his sister. Clarke placed the bouquet on the table behind her and offered her arms to him. He tossed the garter on the flowers and stepped in to her frame.
It was the closest Clarke and Bellamy had been in a month. Since that night when Octavia told Clarke that she was in love with Bellamy. She’d been working more, staying out later, and just plain hiding. He’d noticed, of course he had. They used to spend almost every night on their laptops watching Netflix together. And now she hid in her room. He hadn’t asked her about it, and she figured that if he was in love with her, he would have said something. They dance in silence for a few moments.
“I wish it wasn’t this song,” Bellamy muttered. Clarke looked up at him.
“You always told me you liked this song,” Clarke offered. Bellamy swallowed.
“It reminded me of you,” he said quietly. “And now it just reminds me that you don’t want to be around me anymore.” Clarke wince at the hurt in his voice.
“Bell, I’m -,” Clarke began, but he shook his head.
“I just… I just wish I knew what happened. Was it something I did?” Bellamy asked, pain in his face and his voice, it was clear he’d been agonising over this. “Because whatever it was, I’m so fucking sorry, Clarke. And I miss you.” Clarke looked away as her eyes filled with tears.
“I’m so sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s me,” Clarke admitted. Bellamy tensed.
“So what, you just woke up one morning and decided you didn’t care anymore?” he demanded angrily, as the music ended, his arms falling away from her.
“No, Bellamy, I woke up one morning and realised I was in love with you, and panicked,” Clarke threw back at him, turned on her heel, and stormed out of the reception, tears streaming down her face.
She was an idiot. An absolute idiot. Clarke wiped at her cheeks, and placed her arms akimbo, staring at the ground and trying to remember how to breathe. But it was kind of hard when she was pretty sure she’d just fucked up the best friendship, the best relationship, she’d ever had.
“So you tell me you’re in love with me and then you run off?” Bellamy demanded from just outside the entry. Clarke whirled around to face him. “Are you out of your damn mind?” Clarke managed a teary laugh.
“Probably. I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. If you want I’ll move out or-,” Clarke began apologetically, trying to ignore how sick she felt, before Bellamy cut her off.
“I’ve been in half in love with you since the day I met you in that parking lot and you were simultaneously lecturing me about picking fights and bandaging my hands. But I never thought I’d deserve you, or you’d even consider me in that way,” Bellamy confessed, taking a step closer, watching her carefully. Clarke was frozen to the spot, wondering what the hell was actually happening. “I can’t even remember what it was like not to have you in my life. But loving you, being in love with you, it just kind of became a fact. But lately… I don’t know. I just… I just want you, in a, you know, romantic way. Not just a ‘best friends’ way. Or a ‘friends with benefits’ way. In an ‘I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you’ way. If you want. If not, I’ll take best friends, and I’ll keep not making it weird and we can pretend this never happened.” He was pleading with her, taking another step forward. Clarke was trying really hard to listen, and remember to breathe, and remind herself that it was his sister’s wedding, next to a parking lot. She bit her lip, staring at him. He looked terrified, and she knew she should say something, but she couldn’t remember any words.
“Could you, you know, say something?” Bellamy asked, starting to sound as panicked as Clarke felt. She bit back a hysterical laugh at the increasing ridiculousness of the situation.
“I’m scared,” Clarke admitted. “My love life has been really shitty.” Bellamy nods.
“I know that. But I love you, this won’t be shitty,” he says. Clarke swallowed around the lump in her throat.
“It might end badly and I’ll lose you,” she tries. Bellamy shakes his head.
“We’ve been living together for seven years. I think we’re pretty used to each other’s idiosyncrasies. And you won’t lose me. Ever. I promise,” Bellamy said, taking another step forward. One more step and there would be nowhere else for him to go. Clarke licked her lips.
“What if we have really bad sex and it gets weird?” Clarke tries. Bellamy laughs.
“The sex is going to be great. And if it’s not, we’ll work on it until it is great,” he comments. Clarke offers him a smile. And then she pictures him naked and on top of her, and she’s not so concerned about that one.
“Okay,” Clarke says after a moment. “You love me?” She looks at him in disbelief. She knows that Octavia told her that he was, but it’s very different hearing it from him.
“A lot. It’s sickening, really,” Bellamy confesses with a nod. “Do you love me?” Clarke nods slowly, smile spreading slowly wider.
“Yeah, I do. You’re the best and you’re in every version of the future I can think of,” Clarke admits. Bellamy visibly deflates with a sigh of relief.
“Thank god,” he breathes, stepping forward, wrapping her in his arms and pressing her against him. Clarke rose onto her toes to meet him, kissing him and wrapping her arms around him. It should have been weird, Clarke thought, kissing him. But it wasn’t. It just felt like coming home, like she’d always belonged here, and maybe she had. When the kiss broke, Bellamy placed his forehead against hers.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking happy and I can’t believe it and I love you.” Clarke laughed, pressing closer against him.
“I love you too,” she whispered back, and her cheeks almost hurt with the size of her smile. Bellamy trailed his fingers along her spine. She shivered with the contact. His hands slipped around her waist and took both her hands in his.
“You do know that Octavia is going to take credit for this?” Bellamy asked, stepping back to look at her. Clarke laughed and wrinkled her nose.
“Well, credit where credit is due, she’s the one who made me realise I was in love with you. And she masterminded this whole dance thing,” Clarke admitted. “We might have got there without her. Maybe in another ten years.” Bellamy laughed and shook his head.
“Clarke, I could not have lasted another ten years without kissing you. Sorry. But you can give her credit all you like. It is her wedding day, after all,” Bellamy replied. Clarke was about to suggest they go back in to said wedding, but was interrupted by a scream.
“Oh my god! It worked!” Octavia squealed running over to embrace them. Bellamy was scolding his sister good-naturedly while she freaked out about how happy she was. Clarke let herself be hugged and led back into the reception room, but all she could think was that she was so incredibly lucky to have met the Blakes, and if she was really lucky, she’d get to be one someday too.