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Raven held a little check list up, looked from it to her cluttered countertop. “Cupcakes, check.” She scratched it off the list, ignored how the cupcakes had sunken in in the middle, how the icing was melting off the sides. “Brownies, check.” She marked that off, too, overlooked how the whole pan of dessert was burnt and cracked in the middle. “Apple pie…” She trailed off, scanned the countertops twice, didn’t see any apple pie.
That’s when the oven started smoking and her fire alarm started screaming in her ears. The brunette’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as she threw the paper and pulled down the oven door, getting punched in the face with a huge cloud of black, suffocating smoke. She stepped back, waved her arms through the smoke to try and break it up, began coughing violently. She grabbed a towel and waved it up in front of the smoke alarm until it shut off, then opened the little window above her sink to help fan out the kitchen.
“Jesus,” She muttered as she leaned against the sink and looked at her mess of a kitchen. The pie was ruined. She didn’t have the supplies to make another one. Technically all of her desserts were ruined. She couldn’t bake to save her life, all of her friends knew this, and yet they were making her host the Christmas party anyway. Well, it was her turn, but still. They should have at least all agreed that she could buy the food instead of making it.
But it was tradition. She thought in a mocking tone, mimicking Clarke’s voice. “If I had to cook last year, you have to cook this year.” The blonde had argued. Raven had pointed out that while Clarke could cook, she herself couldn’t, but they all just shrugged. So, they knew what they were in for, but Raven still wanted things to be nice for the party. Speaking if things being nice, she didn’t even have her apartment decorated yet. The party was in seven hours and she all she had was burned food and a completely trashed kitchen.
“Great party, Reyes,” She muttered under her breath, sighed deeply as she closed the oven and wiped her sweaty forehead, only to get flour and god-knows-what on her face. Just as she was about to wash her face off, there came a frantic knock at her door. She scrunched her face in confusion, then went to the door and opened it to reveal a beautiful, wet, shirtless man standing in her doorway. “Uh,” Was all that came out of her mouth. She could have smacked herself for being so eloquent with words.
The man looked down at her, moved some of his damp black hair out of his face. “I smelled the smoke. Are you okay?”
Oh man, this is like some cliché Lifetime movie. Raven thought, trying to find the right words to say without looking like a complete illiterate imbecile. “I was just…adding char to the apple pie.” She said slowly, mentally cringing. Okay, so it wasn’t the worst thing to say, but certainly not the best.
The man laughed, smiled, leaned against the open threshold. “Oh, okay, so you’re all good?” He questioned, crossing his arms over his toned chest.
Raven nodded, finally regained her cool composure. “I’m good.”
“Good. Sorry, it’s just natural instinct to come running when I smell or see a fire.” He rubbed the back of his head, a bashful smile playing his face.
Adorable. Raven thought as her heart quirked and her stomach fluttered.
She hoped what she was feeling internally wasn’t showing externally. “Firefighter?” She asked.
“Yeah,” He nodded.
“Cool,” Cool? Really? Are you fucking serious, Reyes? Get your shit together. She bitched at herself. Could she get any lamer? Probably—the day wasn’t over; it was bound to happen.
Just as he was about to turn and leave, he looked past her, caught sight of the mess in the kitchen, raised an amused eyebrow. “When’s the party?”
The brunette woman sighed heavily, slumped her shoulders. “Seven hours.” She groaned, looked back into her apartment at the impossible mess she wouldn’t be able to clean up in time.
He stood up straight, asked sincerely, “Need some help?”
Her expression turned to mild shock. “Do you know how to bake?” She asked, her eyes slightly wide with wonder. If this gorgeous man could bake, what else could he do? She shook her head mentally, made herself stop thinking such thoughts. She had just met him, didn’t even know his name, goddamn it, and there was a crisis at hand—she didn’t have time to fantasize about this attractive stranger.
She could do that later when she didn’t have a party to prepare for.
The dark tan man rolled his eyes playfully, answered with a coy smile, “Of course.”
She didn’t hesitate; she needed all the help she could get. “Yeah, okay, that would be great.” She moved so that he could walk in, but then stopped and pointed at his bare chest, an eyebrow high. “Are you gonna put on a shirt?” He looked down at himself, as if he had forgotten that he was half naked. When he looked back up at her she could have sworn that a mild tint of pink had risen across his face.
“I’ll be right back.” He promised, started down the hallway back towards his apartment.
“Just walk in when you get back.” Raven called to him. He waved back to her without turning, then entered his home. She shut her own door, raced to the hallway where she had a little mirror on the wall. She nearly fainted when she saw her reflection; flour was smeared all over her forehead and cheeks, her hair was a mess, tangled together with dough and egg. She puffed out her cheeks, pouted a little, made a whining noise, then sighed in defeat and went back to the kitchen. It’s not like she had to try to be attractive—even covered in food she was still gorgeous, she knew this, but cleaning up a little couldn’t hurt. If she cared enough she would have, but as it was, she did not.
The man entered her apartment a three minutes later, a black t-shirt now cloaked his broad shoulders and toned chest. His hair had started to dry; it was curling a little at the ends. Raven thought it was cute, but she wouldn’t say it. “Alright, so…what…do…we have…here…” He said slowly, rubbing his hands together, taking inventory of the complete disaster of her kitchen. He bit his lip roughly, tried to hide his smirk.
She rolled her eyes, crossed her arms. “Yeah, I know, it’s pretty much hopeless.”
He nodded in agreement, clicked his tongue as he inspected the busted brownies and melted cupcakes. “Yeah, pretty much.” He opened the oven and gasped slightly, burst into laughter.
Raven could feel her face heat up. “Hey! I—I tried.” She protested in a small voice.
He looked up at her, then back at the sorry excuse of a pie. “And you failed.” He declared bluntly.
Her face fell into a scowl, though she couldn’t be mad because it was true. “I know.” She agreed.
“Alright!” He cracked his knuckles, wiped off the counter. “Let’s fix this mess.” He motioned for Raven to hand him her cook book and she eagerly obliged, more than ready to get everything done.
He really could cook; within twenty minutes he had two dozen red velvet cupcakes in the oven and a batch of gingerbread cookie dough setting up in the fridge for later. So far there were no fires, no explosions, and Raven was utterly amazed. It was only when they were setting up her Christmas decorations that she realized he hadn’t even told her his name.
“Oh, yeah, I’m Raven, by the way. Raven Reyes.” She informed, pressing a little window sticker of Santa Claus on her large living room window.
“I know.” He said. “I hear about you all the time from my sister. And the whole NASA thing.” She gave him a confused look, though he couldn’t see it from behind her Christmas tree. He was trying to place the star on top of it, and despite him being incredibly tall, the tree had him by at least five more inches. The NASA thing she understood, but the sister thing? “Bellamy Blake.” He clarified, catching on to her confusion.
Blake…Bellamy Blake… She thought for a moment, then it hit her. “Oh—oh!” She exclaimed, snapping her fingers. “Octavia mentioned her brother was moving to the city.” Octavia talked about him all the time, but she’d never shown them a picture of her brother. Raven had remembered the woman telling all of them that her older brother, Bellamy, had gotten a job offer in the city and was moving up there a few days before Christmas. She was extremely ecstatic about it, because it was the first Christmas they would be able to spend together in three years; he lived in LA and she lived in Chicago, and although they could fly to see each other, both of their work schedules got crazy over the holidays (he was a firefighter and Octavia was a social worker), so it was usually a no.
Bellamy nodded, “I got in yesterday. I didn’t know you lived in this apartment building until earlier.”
“The whole apple pie thing…” Raven trailed off, bashful. Then she asked, “How’d you know about the NASA thing?”
He shrugged a shoulder, started placing ornaments on the snowed tree. “You were all over the news back then.”
She nodded in remembrance. “Oh, yeah. That was a long time ago.” Raven smiled to herself, recalled all those interviews she had done for all those magazines, newspapers, and talk shows. She was the youngest mechanical engineer in fifty-two years. The brightest NASA had ever seen in forever. She had loved it, in the beginning.
Bellamy continued, his tone still impressed, “Now you’re a homicide detective and their technology expert while still lowkey working for NASA when they need you.”
Raven’s smile faded slightly, hid it from him so that he wouldn’t ask. She had left NASA because of the stress, all the pressure, all the things they expected from her. She could handle it at first, she was happy there, felt important and needed. But she was a kid, and as intelligent was she was—is—she was starting to bend and break. So she had to get out, had to really live like she wanted. And sure, being a cop was stressful, too, but it was the type of stress her adult self could handle. “You read that on the internet too?” She teased.
“No,” He chuckled, looked over at her, “Octavia told me.”
“Huh. What else did she tell you about me?”
“You snore.” He answered.
Raven scowled, flipped her hair behind her shoulder. “I do not.”
“You can’t cook.” His voice taunted.
She shrugged, motioned to the mess around her kitchen. “Obviously.”
He waited a few moments, muttered something under his breath as he untangled some lights, then added, “You’re extremely intelligent.”
Raven felt her face heat a little. “Correct.” She said easily, smirking.
“You’re funny and nice and her best friend.” He continued.
Okay, now her face wasn’t a little red, it was full on tomato red. She kept her back to him as she spoke. “Wrong. I’m not nice, I’m an asshole. And I’m not funny,” She declared. Bellamy cocked an eyebrow. “I’m hilarious.” She clarified. Grins spread over both of their faces, then they continued to set up her living room.
Talking to Bellamy was easy, she noticed. It was like they had already been friends, like they had been apart for a few weeks and were catching up. It terrified her and exhilarated her at the same time; usually she was hard to talk to, hard to get to know, because of her tough exterior and most people found her sarcasm too off putting. But not Bellamy. Every time she cracked a sarcastic, snarky remark he laughed, smirked, and returned it just as much. She liked that. Found it refreshing. Hoped that this was the start of a good friendship.
Of course, she used the word friendship very loosely.
Seven hours later, the food looked edible and amazing, and the apartment looked attractive and festive. Raven even had time to shower and change into her party attire: blank leggings, black boots, her green ugly Christmas sweater that had Rudolph on the front accompanied with a blinking red nose, and an antler headband on top of her head. She had invited Bellamy to the party, obviously. He was definitely Octavia’s brother; he had ten ugly sweaters to choose from. He went with a dark red one that had Santa’s face on it and wore a Santa hat for good measure. Even in an ugly sweater Raven still thought he was handsome—but she would never admit to that, at least, not sober.
Currently, Raven was standing next to the dolled up Christmas tree, sipping on her spiked eggnog and observing the party. Everyone was there, laughing and having a great time. She looked up when she saw Octavia saunter over, a broad smile on her face. “So my brother lives in your building.” She observed.
“Uh-huh.” Raven nodded, picked up a meatball from the tray that was on the coffee table beside her and popped it in her mouth.
“And he helped you set up.”
“Yep.”
Octavia smirked, clarified, “After he ran over here shirtless and wet.”
Raven nodded slowly, sipped more of her drink. “Yes.”
“He baked.”
“Yeah.”
“He decorated your apartment.”
Raven shrugged. “He helped.” If Octavia was going to continue this, whatever this was, she was going to need a whole bottle of tequila to get through it.
“Hmm…” Octavia mumbled, scratched her chin mischievously.
Raven turned to her, saw that the younger girl’s eyes had the same look in them that they got when she was about to do something completely crazy. “Octavia, what the hell are you getting at?” The darker girl asked wearily, suspicious of what her friend was scheming. Anytime Octavia got a plan she always executed it, and anytime said plan included Raven she got extremely nervous. “Octavia,” She repeated sternly. The dark haired woman turned her head to her, a small smile lining her pretty face. Raven raised an eyebrow. “What?” She demanded.
Octavia shrugged aloofly. “Oh, nothing.”
“Octavia,” Raven’s voice rose, a mix of worry and annoyance.
The tan girl shrugged again, sipped her Martini, then winked and walked away, leaving Raven to feel completely vulnerable. Her stomach did little summersaults as she watched Octavia go up to Bellamy, say something, laugh, and then walk away to join her girlfriend, Clarke, in a conversation with Monty and Miller.
Later that night, as things had begun to die down, Raven was seated at the bar in her kitchen, snacking on what was left of the brownies. Some people had left, most had stayed because they were too drunk to drive and getting a cab this late was nearly impossible, so they were sprawled out in the living room, on the floor, on the couch, Jasper and Maya were even curled up on the kitchen floor, snoring softly. Raven smiled to herself, glad that they had all enjoyed themselves, thankful that the party wasn’t the disaster she predicted it was going to be.
“Great party.” Bellamy said softly as he sat down next to Raven. She gazed up at him, the smile still tugging her lips. He looked absolutely exhausted; his hair was disheveled, his hat was falling off, and he had a stain of something unknown on the right shoulder of his shirt.
“Couldn’t have done it without you.” She whispered, handing him the last brownie. He took it gratefully, popped it in his mouth, then looked away, played with his fingers as if he was contemplating something.
She was about to ask what was wrong when he blurted, “Mistletoe.”
Raven furrowed her brows, cocked her head to the side. “Mistletoe?”
He nodded, swallowed loudly. “Yeah.”
“What about it?”
“Do you believe in it?” He wondered.
“Oh,” She leaned back a little, shrugged. “I mean, it’s a cute gesture I guess? I don’t really know. I’ve never experienced it before.”
His eyes grew wide, his mouth fell a little. “What? You’ve never been kissed under the mistletoe?” He asked in disbelief. She wondered if he was being a bit dramatic because of the little buzz he still had going, or if he was just naturally dramatic—being related to Octavia she figured it was the latter.
“Nope,” She answered simply, looked down, picked at her nails. Maybe it was the alcohol that was making her slow, because she had no idea what he was getting at—until he asked:
“Do you want to?” She looked up and saw his arm above their heads, mistletoe dangling from his fingers. She let a giggle escape her lips, covered her mouth so that she wouldn’t wake up her friends. Bellamy’s face fell and he began lowering his arm.
“No, no,” She protested, grabbed his wrist and held it back up. “It’s—it’s cute.”
“Octavia said it would work.” He admitted shyly.
Raven chuckled again. “She was right—it worked.” Then she leaned in a little, telling him that it was okay to kiss her, waited for him to lean in the rest of the way if he wanted to. And he did. He bent down, kissed her softly on the lips. It was short, much to her dismay, but it was sweet. They both smiled as they pulled apart.
“So cliché works?” He questioned, scooting closer to her.
“Only on Christmas.” She replied.
He shrugged. “That works.” He leaned in again to kiss her but was stopped when someone shouted from the living room.
“Yeah, bitch!” Octavia exclaimed, jumping up and pumping her fist in the air. “You,” She pointed at Miller, “owe me twenty bucks.” Then she double high fived Clarke.
Raven shook her head, grabbed Bellamy’s hand. “Wanna go to your apartment?”
He grinned slyly. “Yeah.”