Work Text:
i. hand
“Did you see that shot? Oh my god,” Octavia exclaimed, slapping Clarke on the arm several times for emphasis. Unnecessarily, really, because of course she had seen the shot—the amazing, record-breaking, history-making shot. She knew the maneuvers leading up to it by heart, the way the players’ moved around each other, dribbling the ball up the field, the way the commentators were lazily chatting until the last second when bam, the ball beamed into the corner of the net, the crowd went wild, and out of nowhere a legend was made.
She had watched this video a dozen times, but Octavia had never seen it. The only freshman to make the Arkstead High girls’ varsity soccer team in years hadn’t seen a lot of classic soccer games, actually, and Clarke felt it was her duty to educate her team’s newest member. It had become their Friday night ritual for the fall, actually, sitting on Octavia’s squishy couch, eating burnt popcorn, and fangirling over their soccer idols.
“No way,” Octavia breathed, narrowing her eyes at the commotion on the screen. “They have to let that goal count—what the hell, of course she was in bounds!”
Clarke suppressed a chuckle, knowing the outcome (eventually the refs called the goal valid) but wanting Octavia to have the full suspenseful experience.
The commentators’ voices were drowned out, however, by another low, rumbling voice, this one coming from the Blake’s kitchen.
Bellamy was on the phone again, and based on his annoyed tone, she would bet their team’s chances at making it to the playoffs—which were pretty good, now they had Octavia—that he was talking to his girlfriend. He always sounded annoyed when he was talking to her, yet they were still together.
“Shut up, Bell!” Octavia yelled, chucking a pillow over her shoulder that landed nowhere near her brother. “There is education going on over here!”
Bellamy just proceeded to talk louder, and Clarke rolled her eyes.
“Holy shit!” Octavia called out, lurching to the edge of the couch cushion as the game caught her attention again. “What the hell, refs?”
“Language, O!” Bellamy yelled from the kitchen.
“Holy s-h-i-t,” Octavia drawled again, just out of spite.
Clarke sighed, reaching for the remote to pause the video, because her friend could not miss this particular moment in soccer history, and the chance to appreciate it wouldn’t return until Bellamy had removed himself back to his room.
“I’ll go make more popcorn,” Clarke murmured, grabbing the bowl as she stood.
“I can do it.”
“If you two get within two feet of each other, I’ll be spending the night cleaning up a murder scene, and then we’ll never get to finish the video.”
Octavia’s laugh followed her as she moved into the kitchen. When she entered, Bellamy was still on the phone.
“No, I told you, I can’t come over tonight.”
“I can’t. I have to watch my sister and her friend, I told you that yesterday.”
“No, I am not going to leave my fifteen-year-old sister and her friend alone on a Friday night.”
“I’m sixteen,” Clarke mouthed wryly from across the kitchen, and Bellamy shrugged unapologetically.
You’re small enough to be twelve, short stuff, he mouthed, grinning when Clarke scowled at him.
As he continued to explain, yet again, to his girlfriend why he couldn’t leave the house, Clarke started on the popcorn. The box on the counter was empty though—Octavia must have used the last packet. She went to the pantry, sighing when she saw another box on the top shelf, rising on her toes and stretching her fingers up to try and grab it. As she teetered around and her arm began to tingle from her efforts, Clarke felt a warm presence at her back, and then suddenly a large, familiar hand was clutching the box and bringing it down for her.
Turning, she looked at Bellamy, who waved the box in front of her with a smirk on his face. Scowling, she swiped the box from his grip and jabbed him in the side with her finger for good measure too. He huffed out a laugh, which apparently set his girlfriend off, as he reassured her, Yeah, babe, I’m listening, of course I’m listening.
He continued to reassure her as Clarke unwrapped the popcorn bag and stuck it in the microwave. While the popcorn cooked, she turned and began watching Bellamy try to make a sandwich and placate his girlfriend at the same time.
“I can’t leave them alone—no, they won’t be okay by themselves. I don’t care when you started staying home by yourself, my mom doesn’t want them alone.”
“Nah, coming over here isn’t a good idea. I gotta make them dinner, and we can’t just hole up in my room—why? Well, because—”
As Bellamy stuttered, apparently trying to find a valid reason to not see his girlfriend, Clarke rolled her eyes and strode over, quickly pressing her fingers to his lips.
Tell her mostly the truth, with just a little bit of it a lie, she whispered, feeling his breath hot against her fingertips. It’s more believable.
The corners of his mouth quirked up in understanding before he pursed his lips to kiss her fingers teasingly, which had her pulse spiking in an unexpected, stuttering beat. Then he ruined it by licking her palm wetly like the annoying older almost-brother he was. Grimacing in disgust, Clarke pulled her hand away and wiped it on her jeans before going back to her and Octavia’s snack.
As she poured the popcorn into the bowl, she heard him rattle off some mildly believable excuse about his mom’s rules about guests while he was babysitting. Smiling when that finally appeared to stave off his girlfriend’s complaints—Aurora Blake was one scary woman—Clarke turned to go back to the living room.
On her way out, Bellamy, in between cradling the phone to his ear and balancing a plate on a cup of water, reached out to give her a high five in thanks. She returned it, smacking his hand hard, chuckling under her breath at the sharp breath he sucked in at the stinging contact.
Best friend’s brother, best friend’s brother, Clarke chanted to herself as she settled back down next to Octavia, who immediately grabbed at the remote to restart the game. As history replayed itself, Clarke found herself for the first time distracted from the events on the screen, not able to help herself watch Bellamy jog up the stairs, phone still pressed to his ear, absently wondering why he and his girlfriend were even still together if he was coming up with excuses not to see her.
ii. air
Sweat dripped down Clarke’s neck, soaking the few wisps of hair escaping from her high bun. She really shouldn’t be out in the midday summer heat, but she was pissed off—about her mother and the pressure to start her college applications, about the looming idea of being a senior, about her favorite coach quitting only a few weeks before preseason training started—and she need to blow off the steam.
Yeah, senior year was off to a great friggin’ start.
She angrily punted the ball across the park, then took off after it, cleats kicking up dirt behind her as she ran. As she started another round of drills, she lost herself in the sounds of her elevated heartbeat rushing in her ears and her labored breathing, blocking out all other invading thoughts other than her feet and the black-white blur of the ball spinning around them.
Reaching the end of her set, and feeling pretty damn good about it, she decided to have some fun and nimbly finished up with a fancy trick, one of her favorites. Suddenly, the sound of clapping invaded her bubble. When she jerked her head up, she saw a shirtless, sweaty Bellamy in running shoes leaning on the back of a nearby bench, smiling at her with amused eyes half-hidden by shaggy curls.
“Don’t they have hairdressers up north?” She called out, unable to stop herself grinning stupidly at him. As she picked up the soccer ball to move closer, she tried to convince herself that her racing heart and the flush in her cheeks was just due to the exercise and the heat. Nothing to do with how goddamn good Bellamy looked without a shirt. Or just in general, because she hadn’t seen him in almost a year, and apparently her two-year crush was still going strong, maybe had even gotten worse while he had been away for his first year of college.
“Good to see you too, Clarke,” he said, giving her a tight, affectionate hug that had her wanting to burrow in closer to him, despite the sweat and smell. “Still the overachiever, I see.”
“Preseason is in a month!”
“I know. Octavia can’t stop talking about it,” he replied with a chuckle.
The way he laughed, open and free and happy, astounded her—the boy she remembered from months ago had been sullen and anxious and angry. She knew he had worried about leaving Octavia, and that unexpected issue with his scholarship, and how clingy his girlfriend had been about him leaving. He had almost deferred for a year, but Octavia had thrown an absolute fit, screaming that she was going to drop out of school if he did, and so he had gone. And it had been better for him than any one of them could have imagined (and, not that it mattered to anyone but Clarke, being away had also resulted in him breaking up with that girl, and as far as she knew, he wasn’t dating anyone now).
“I can help train you guys, if you want.”
Bellamy’s sudden offer startled her out of her thoughts, and she fumbled for words.
“Um, sure,” she stuttered, breathless because that would be so much time to spend with him in minimal amounts of clothing, but also so much time to spend with him when he probably still saw her as his little sister’s friend.
“I can keep up—I worked out in college,” he teased.
Clarke had to swallow thickly to keep herself from saying I can certainly see that. Not trusting her mouth to run away from her, she just nodded silently.
“Cool. Send me your schedule—”
The honk of a car interrupted him, and Clarke’s heart sank when his ex leaned out of the window of the SUV, smiling broadly and waving.
“She—uh, asked to catch up. Not many of my other friends are back for the summer,” Bellamy explained with a wave of his hand, looking anywhere but her.
Clarke shrugged, as if she didn’t care, rolling her eyes a bit but also adding a grin to mask her disappointment.
“Go,” she urged, dropping the ball and dribbling backwards. “You’re distracting me anyways.”
“Hydrate!” He yelled over his shoulder as he walked away, then pressing his hand to his lips, he flicked a smacking kiss through the air at her.
Forcing herself to not watch him drive away with his ex, she instead focused on getting back into a drill rhythm. She had a championship to win this season, and thinking of Bellamy spending the rest of the summer training with her but hooking up with someone else was just going to get in the way of that.
So, with determination dripping from her just as surely as the sweat, she geared back up again, digging her cleats into the dirt, because victory awaited.
iii. hair
“How the hell did your nerd of a brother get into a frat?” Clarke muttered to Octavia as they followed Bellamy down the road.
“It’s an academic frat.”
Clarke snorted, which turned into a full-on laugh when Bellamy turned and stared at them defiantly.
“Still a frat!” He protested. “And keep talking like that, and I’m locking both of you in my dorm room for the night.”
“Like we wouldn’t find a way out,” Octavia said under her breath, sending Clarke into another fit of giggles.
Bellamy just sent his gaze skyward, as if asking what he did to deserve this. “I invite you two here for a weekend, and this is the thanks I get.”
Octavia skipped forward and slung her arms around his neck, tussling back and forth with him. The time apart hadn’t even begun to dampen the closeness of their relationship, something Clarke was glad to see. Pulling her cardigan tighter in the cool spring air, she hurried to catch up with them.
Technically he had only invited his sister to visit, but since Clarke hadn’t seen O since leaving for her freshman year of college, and his school was only a few hours away from her by car, she had kind of hinted at crashing their trip. Getting to see Octavia would be worth being in such close proximity with Bellamy—she still liked him as much as ever, but she had resigned herself sometime during senior year that they were never going to happen. Surprisingly, it had actually worked, and now whenever she was around him, the wanting was only a dull ache that she barely noticed anymore, just background noise. A good thing too, because to her surprise, the Blake siblings had been more than enthusiastic about the idea of her joining them, and so here she was, spending an entire four days tagging along.
Though Bellamy was looking less and less enthusiastic about their presence as they approached frat row, and his lips actually tugged into a frown when they walked up to the front door of his frat. With a deep intake of breath, he led them inside. He slapped hands with the few guys he passed, hugging some girls who had come early for the pregame. When they arrived in the living room, Bellamy yelled out for his brothers’ attention, and silence fell over the group.
“This,” he called out, slinging an arm around Octavia, “is the little sister. And this,” he continued, putting his other arm around Clarke, “is the little like-sister. So: off limits to all of you guys.”
Everybody laughed, though they also seemed to take his announcement seriously, and Octavia groaned, twisting away from her brother. Clarke pinched him in the side, which only causing him to pull her in closer and press a sloppy kiss to the side of her head, the pressure of it softened by her wavy hair.
Then she tugged away, grabbing Octavia’s arm with a meaningful squeeze as she smiled up at Bellamy.
“So we are off limits to all the boys here?” She probed sweetly.
Bellamy just stared at her in suspicion, very aware she was up to something but clearly not knowing what. He folded his arms over this chest, which puffed up dramatically, and Clarke almost broke her façade and laughed, because he looked ridiculous wearing this big brother look when he was slightly drunk.
“Yeah—boys, men, guys, whatever synonym you try to use,” he replied gruffly.
Catching on, Octavia grinned back at Clarke, who laughed and patted Bellamy on the shoulder. “Read you loud and clear, Bell.”
Then they both slipped out of his reach into the growing throng of people, thoroughly throwing themselves into having a good time. It was Octavia’s first college party, and Clarke wanted to show her all the wonderful things she had to look forward to when she left for her own college experience in six months. And enjoy themselves they did, and even Bellamy, who was always keeping an eye on them, didn’t get in their way.
In fact, he was too occupied to monitor them because his attention was focused instead on one particular brunette, a pretty girl with fierce eyes and fiercer smile. Clarke tried to ignore the way Bellamy leaned into her, casually brushing her arm during the conversation. When the girl made him laugh, in a genuine way only she had heard from him with Octavia, she switched from beer to vodka shots, not liking the way her control on her emotions was slipping, because she thought she was past this, past feeling jealous, past wanting him this much.
It made her feel a little bit better when a few minutes later the cute redheaded girl she had been flirting with earlier found her and dragged her onto the dance floor. The way the girl’s smile made her stomach flip reminded Clarke that this was a party, and she was supposed to be having fun, not wallowing. So, pressing their hips together with a sly grin, she let herself get lost in the deep bass beat pounding out of the speakers and the girl’s body heat. As one song slipped into the next, she began to lean in close until they were kissing, slow and surprisingly sweet. The girl tasted like gin and oranges and moved her lips in a way that had Clarke aching with want, so she wound her fingers into her hair, tugging her a little bit closer to prolong the moment.
It was only when the girl whispered in her ear something about going back to her room that Clarke remembered they were in a room full of people, people she didn’t even know. Blinking away the pleasant haze of attraction that had cocooned the two of them, she looked up and realized Bellamy was staring at them from across the room. His expression read curious, but when he caught her eye, he smiled, warmly, kindly, raising his glass in greeting, and then turned back to his conversation. Clarke blew out a shaky laugh, only just realizing she had been nervous about his reaction. She had known she was bisexual since high school, but college was the first time she had really embraced that knowledge, and there was no going back to how it had been. It was comforting that he took it so well in stride.
When the girl repeated her question, drawing Clarke’s attention back in with a stroke to her side, she smiled but declined the offer, saying she needed to stay with her friends. Leaving her with one last quick kiss, she wove her way through the crowd until she found Octavia. She playing a game of quarters with some of the frat’s pledges and so Clarke joined in, a warm, fizzy feeling filling her up, a mix of the vodka shots and renewed comfortability in her own skin.
That was where Bellamy found them an hour later, laughing and drunkenly chucking quarters at their opponents, when he tapped his watch to tell them it was time to go.
Octavia was the first out the door, sashaying down the sidewalk as she hummed out the latest hit pop song. Clarke kept pace with Bellamy as they followed her, noticing his expression turn fond as he contentedly watched his sister. Suddenly, as if he had sensed her staring, he turned and looked at her, dark eyes twinkling with humor.
“Just so you know,” he said casually, though a grin lurked at the corners of his mouth. “Guy or girl, I’m still going to scare the living shit out of anyone you date—it’s my brotherly duty after all.”
Clarke laughed, surprised and not surprised at his words all at the same time. The warm feeling of relief at his acceptance washed over her again.
“You’re not my brother, though,” she retorted, her voice much softer than she had intended it to be.
And because Bellamy never missed a thing, he slid another curious glance at her, one that—because of the alcohol and her resultantly lowered inhibitions—had her blushing. She ducked her head to hide it, letting her curls fall over her cheeks like a shield. Still, she could feel Bellamy’s gaze, her stomach clenching at his soft chuckle.
“True. But I care about you, Clarke. And that’s never going to change.”
Then he pulled her into a tight side-hug just as Octavia spun around, eyes dancing with amusement.
“God, you two are so sappy,” she sang out. “You’re bringing me down.”
“Then you should’ve stayed at home—Clarke and I would’ve had a great time hanging out without you.”
His words and solid presence still at her side had Clarke’s pulse stuttering. It had always been the Blake siblings and her, two and one. To hear Bellamy talking about them as a two—it pretty much had her warm all over, her skin electrified as Bellamy’s grip on her shoulder tightened teasingly. And he didn’t let go as they continued to walk into the night, trailing behind a twirling Octavia under the starry sky.
iv. cheek
When Clarke looked back over the sea of her black-robed, cap-wearing classmates, she could barely make out faces in the audience, but after a minute of searching she found her parents. She waved at them, surprised when four hands instead of just two waved back. Squinting, she broke into a face-splitting grin at realizing the Blake siblings had come to her graduation as well.
She hadn’t thought Bellamy was serious when he had joked for the past few months about taking time off from law school to come see her graduate from college. Apparently, though, he hadn’t been kidding. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise her, because they—Clarke and Bellamy—were actually friends: friends who texted, friends who confided in each other, friends who visited, friends who fought. Still, she felt excitement and gratitude rush through her veins at knowing he really was there for her, just like he always said he would be.
The ceremony blew past in a blur, and Clarke barely remembered even walking across the stage. The diploma was in her hand and her tassel was turned, though, so she was officially a college graduate. Four years of working towards this, and then it was done in the blink of an eye.
After they were released from their seats, Clarke searched excitedly for her family, shouting happily and launching herself at her father the second she found them.
“Congrats, kiddo,” he murmured in her ear, wrapping her tightly in his arms. “I’m so proud of you.”
With one last squeeze, he passed her off to her mother, who was tearing up as she hugged her, whispering similar congratulations.
Octavia was the next in line, though Clarke couldn’t focus on her friend’s excited chatter because she had caught Bellamy’s eye over O’s shoulder. Locked into his gaze, she watched him cock his head, lips quirking up into an affectionate smile. She didn’t take his eyes off of him even when Octavia stepped away, and then he was moving rapidly towards her, sweeping her up into a giant hug that had her feet almost lifting off the ground.
“Well done, princess,” he told her, dropping a long kiss on her cheek before pulling away, his hands still cupping her shoulders. His gaze was so open and raw, eyes brimming with pride and something else, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on but also had her feeling nervous and excited at the same time. “Look at you, all grown up and entering the adult world.”
“Don’t remind me,” she groaned, tilting her head back. The motion caused her cap to slip away, but before she could reach up to catch it, Bellamy grabbed it, settling it back on her head carefully. His rough fingertips brushed a few stray strands of hair away from her face before he dropped his hands. Then, he cleared his throat and stepped back, glancing over his shoulder towards her parents.
With a bit of reluctance, she turned towards them, nonetheless aware of Bellamy’s stare on her, never wavering, just as solid a fixture as the man himself had been in her life. She was unbelievably happy that it seemed as if he was going to stay that way, and though the slightest bit of melancholy still ate at her that he would never be more than a friend, having him here, like this, was infinitely better than not at all.
+i. lips
As Clarke slid her keys into the door of her and Octavia’s apartment–their crappy, run-down apartment, but it was theirs regardless, signed the day after Octavia had graduated college and moved to live with Clarke as she started her second year of medical school–she prayed Bellamy was already asleep. He was in town for a job interview, and so of course he had crashed with them. Usually Clarke didn’t mind, but after the horror of a date she had just had, she really just wanted to slip into some comfortable pajamas, dig into a large bowl of ice cream, and watch some crappy show on Netflix without anyone to witness her moping.
Her one free night this weekend, and she had wasted it on a rude guy who had only been interested in talking about himself and his six-figure job. And she really wasn’t in the mood to deal with anybody of the male persuasion right now, not even Bellamy.
It wasn’t her night, though, because Bellamy was still awake when she walked in, looking up from his documentary playing on the television as she violently kicked off her high heels.
“Bad date?” He inquired, bracing his arm on the back of the couch when he turned to look at her.
“Bad date,” she confirmed with a weary sigh.
Making a beeline for her bedroom, she shut the door behind her and quickly stripped off her tight dress, exchanging it for sleep shorts and a baggy t-shirt. Part of her wished Bellamy would disappear into Octavia’s room while she was changing, meaning she could enjoy her apartment alone, but she figured he’d want to make sure she was okay.
As she walked back out, wrapping her hair up into a high bun as she headed for the kitchen, she noticed that he was indeed still in the living room, but he had queued up an episode of Grey’s Anatomy and scooted over on the couch to make room for her.
“You’re my favorite,” she called out, his responding laughter causing her to smile, her first genuine one of the night, actually.
“Octavia has trained me well. And sorry, she ate the last of the double fudge ice cream before she left for Lincoln’s. There is chocolate chip left, though.”
Her exaggerated groan had him chuckling again. The familiar sound washed over her, a soothing balm to her frazzled nerves, and suddenly, having to resort to her second-favorite type of ice cream wasn’t as disappointing as it could have been.
“I’m going to have to have a talk with your sister when she gets back,” Clarke grumbled as she padded into the living room and settled in beside Bellamy on the couch.
“Please. Like that’s going to work. Do you remember how many times I yelled at her about taking the last of things when we were growing up? Some things never change.”
Clarke paused before responding, eyes flicking to Bellamy’s hands cupping her feet, which had automatically settled themselves in his lap. “Yeah,” she echoed with a soft smile. “Some things never change.”
And really, they didn’t—after all these years, she knew she’d always like him as a little bit more than a friend, but it was almost a comforting thing now, like a safety blanket. A funny thought, but one that no longer bothered her.
“You okay?” He probed, his words not so much teasing as curious.
Jabbing her heel into his leg to distract him, she stuck out her tongue and said, “Just waiting for you to press play.”
When one of her favorites episodes began to play—of course he knew which ones were her favorites—she smiled, slurping a big chunk of ice cream off of her spoon. Not such a bad night after all, she thought warmly.
They were about halfway through the episode when she got up for another round of ice cream, humming softly along with the song playing over the current scene. She was so focused on scooping and singing that she almost dropped her bowl when she turned around and Bellamy was right there.
“Jesus,” she breathed, her free hand pressed to her chest as she glared up at him. “Way to scare the shit out of me.”
He didn’t say a word, not even a quick sorry. He just looked down at her—serious, determined, and a little bit vulnerable—again startling her when he moved in even closer, so that her lower back was pressed into the edge of the kitchen counter, their fronts almost entirely touching as he took the ice cream bowl out of her hand and set it on the counter.
“Bellamy?” She breathed, a million questions packed into just those three syllables.
He closed his eyes, huffing out the barest breath of a laugh, before murmuring, “Sometimes things do change.”
Then he pressed his lips to hers, a soft but insistent caress that told her: I’ve been thinking about this, I’m sure about this, I’m ready for this. And because she had been ready for this, for him, years ago, Clarke twined her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss with no hesitation. She felt him smile as she did so, and then he wrapped his own arms around her, pulling her close so she could feel every inch of him, her skin on fire and her nerves alight with joy.
“Hi,” she whispered against his swollen mouth when he finally pulled away, her eyes fluttering open to look into his amused ones.
“Were you ever going to tell me you had a massive crush on me for years?”
Clarke opened her mouth in shock, and Bellamy laughed before capturing her lips in another kiss. “Octavia told me.”
In all their years of friendship, never once had Clarke confessed to her friend how she felt about her brother. “How did she—“
“It’s Octavia,” was his only reply, squeezing his fingers teasingly into her sides, his touch tickling her. She squirmed happily, letting out a giggle before dropping her forehead to press it against his chest.
“Well, this is embarrassing,” Clarke muttered into the soft fabric of his t-shirt.
“Not so embarrassing as having your sister have to be the one to tell you the girl you’ve been massively into for quite some time also is pretty into you.”
Clarke whipped her head up at those words, not quite ready to believe them. The sheepish, wry expression on his face spoke volumes, however, and with an exasperated shake of her head, she brought his mouth down to hers for another kiss, reassurance for both her and him. It was intoxicating, feeling his heat on her lips, his hair running between her fingers, his solid frame plastered against hers after so much time spent imagining what it would be like to hold him this close. A sense of belonging ran through her veins, made itself at home in her very breath, causing her skin to flush and her pulse to race. Just as warmth began pooling low in her belly, she pulled back and away, twisting out of his arms to tug him out of the kitchen.
“Let’s not waste any more time then,” she said, arching her eyebrows with an inviting smile, towing him slowly but surely towards her bedroom.
“You sure?”
She just snorted, then squealed in surprise when Bellamy, sporting a pleased grin, scooped her up around the waist and hurried down the hall, clearly just as ready to make up for lost time. And make up for lost time they did, spending most of the night-darkened hours learning about each other in a whole new way.
As Clarke curled up, contented and sated in Bellamy’s arms, however, she fell asleep to the thought that maybe it wasn’t time lost, just time spent finding the people that they were now, the versions of them that could belong to one another, and time like that, well–in this moment, she didn’t think that was time wasted at all.