Chapter Text
Monty and Jasper grew up next door to each other. Best friends since the age of 5 when Jasper tried to steal a shovel from Monty in the sandbox and Monty pushed him head first into the sand. They were the type of cliché best friend’s story you watch in movies: pictures in photo albums of them swimming naked in kiddy pools (which always seem to be “magically re-found” by the time Christmas comes around); stupid ideas that get them in trouble that are always coincidental accidents; and sleepovers since forever that always end in all the pop tarts disappearing. Come high school they were absolutely inseparable.
First week of freshman year they show up at a neighbor’s house drunk out of their mind, because “shut up Monty, we made the still and we will drink it.” The neighbors took pity on the two delinquents and nursed them back to health. The next morning star struck Jasper managed to throw up on Octavia Blake and suddenly their rag tag group of two became three.
(And then four, you love them Bellamy stop scowling.)
Clarke Griffin joined the group halfway into sophomore year. Suffering the loss of her father she managed to find her way into some bad situations and if not for Octavia would probably be serving time in some remote location in Asia. A year older than them, the junior, found her place in the group and has made up her debt by saving their asses more times than she can count.
(She’s totally the mom, but don’t tell her that)
(Oh and Bellamy’s the dad but they don’t talk about that for safety of their future children.)
Come Jasper and Monty’s senior year it seemed only natural that the four of them, plus Raven, Clarke’s roommate, and Miller, (who only came for the gas station food and absolutely not the cute Asian), would find themselves piled into Bellamy and Octavia’s cars and headed to Vegas.
(They didn’t take Clarke’s truck despite Jasper’s constant begging to ride in the bed.)
Vegas, the absolute cheesiest place the group could find themselves head come senior year. “Booze, women and gambling, the three necessities to becoming an adult”
(Jasper got slapped for this)
The only thing that could make this any more like a cliché story would be rain. But so far the sky was very clear; it is a desert you know. (Oh yeah, and the car broke down.)
“I swear to god, your car is the absolute worst,” Clarke wouldn’t normally be this mean to Cleo, but it had been three days without coffee and she’s in college. “Cleo” the old 1996 ford wagon, gave an indignant hiss and stuttered.
“Feeling’s mutual” Bellamy grumbled and pressed down on the gas, only to have the hood begin steaming.
Monty hissed in pain when Raven’s knee jabbed him, as she climbed over the seats. “Pull over Blake, it’s probably just the oil.” (It wasn’t.)
Raven likes to hold over the rest that she is an engineering major with invitations to internships at both NASA and the army. So when she says it’s hopeless, it’s best to pack your bags and seek penance.
“Just call Octavia; they only passed us like half an hour ago.” Monty offers. And scratch that- second cliché: there’s no cell service.
Raven mumbles something about Cell Phones and GPS signals from under the hood of the car.
“I told you we should have taken the truck” Clarke grunted, hitting Cleo in the tire.
Bellamy let out an unbecoming squeak and stepped in front of her, should she decide to take her angry out in something other than the tire, “And let Jasper ride in the back?”
“He could have sat in shotgun” she said, like it was obvious.
Bellamy snorted, “Duck taped, maybe.”
The blonde has always had a reputation for her glares, but she seemed to amp them up a notch for her arguments with Bellamy. “Well maybe if someone hadn’t forgotten to check the engine before we left we wouldn’t have to wonder,” She tried to move around him.
“Don’t” he said, pulling her back when she marched past him. “It’s not Cleo’s fault” He was fairly close to her now and she cursed hormones for making her distracted.
“Yes, your right it’s yours. You and the stupid historical namesake of your stupid car” She shot back, trying to gain control of her traitorous heart. Clarke really should have known better than to mention a historical person. Bellamy is pretty stubborn normally, but get him started on history and he won’t ever shut up. Clarke had also had a hard time not falling on her face trying to kiss him when he gets like this, so really she set herself up.
“She is not stupid, Cleopatra was a great queen” The gleam was there, the one that meant a lecture was coming, and (also the little scrunch between his eyebrows that she always wanted to rub away.)
She could hear the beginnings of his lecture, but none of it resonated except for that fact that his lips lasted really good when he was talking about ancient Egypt.
(Let it be said she didn’t fall for him, more like she slipped.)
(Three hours, one very long walk to a gas station and one enraged call from Octavia, later she found herself in Vegas where she discovered that his lips tasted just as good when talking about the history of casinos.)