Chapter Text
Clarke closed the book she’d been reading, barely being able to focus on the words with the amount of Christmas spirit swimming through her head.
“Bellamy?” She asked, pulling him out of his computer screen induced trance. He pushed his reading glasses back up the bridge of his nose before turning to face her in acknowledgement. “What do you think about inviting our parents to stay for a while for the holidays?”
His face lit up at her suggestion and she knew he couldn’t say no. For all of his pretending that he doesn’t care that much at all, he was a family man through and through. “Alright, yeah. We’ve got enough room.”
“So - I was thinking - my mom and Marcus, your mom and Octavia.” And then she realized that the number would soon grow rapidly, seeing that Octavia and Lincoln came with their kids. “We’ll manage to fit the kids and Lincoln in too, right?”
“Sure. We’ve got the pull-out couch, and If all else fails, we can go out and buy an air mattress.”
Clarke smiled at him, already excited at the prospect of having a Christmas just like the ones in movies. As an only child with two very overworked parents, she never got to experience the whole big family get-together. “We’ve got the house, we’ll have our family over - it’ll be a real Christmas. It’s just - this can’t go wrong, right?”
Bellamy tugged her into his side, his laptop and her book long forgotten as they planned the most amazing Christmas ever. They’re adults, they could do it.
“Clarke, there’s no way that this can go wrong.”
But two days later, after phone calls had been made and flights had been arranged, when Bellamy received a very distressed phone call from Miller, the statement he had made the other night proved to be nothing but wishful thinking.
“Miller, calm down. What do you mean your flight’s cancelled?”
“I mean, our flight back to Arcadia has been cancelled due to severe weather. We could rent a car and drive back, but the roads are fucked and it would take forever,” Miller explained, sounding particularly exasperated.
“No way,” Bellamy quickly interjected. “You’re not driving in this weather. Just come over, the house is big enough for all of us.”
“You sure, man? I know your parents are coming over and - check with Clarke, did you check with Clarke?”
Bellamy barely stifled a laugh. It was no secret that Clarke liked everything to be meticulously planned (thus the third bedroom, the one for their hypothetical, future child) but he honestly believed that they could handle two more people.
“We’re good, Miller. Just get your ass over here.”
He was absolutely sure Clarke wouldn't mind. It was going to be absolutely fine. It wasn't like Monty and Miller caused much trouble, really. So when he delivered the news to her, he wasn't expecting her to get mildly panicky.
“We can handle this. We can so totally handle this. No big deal. It's just us and eight other people, right? Ten people and two bathrooms. Oh God, Bell! Where do we expect people to shower and take a piss?” She had seemed moderately fine when she had started talking, but the stress progressed as she went on and now she had her messy blonde curls fisted on either side of her head.
“Relax, Clarke,” Bellamy told her, grabbing onto her shoulders and looking her in the eyes to attempt calming her. “It's going to be a great big Griffin-Blake family Christmas. It'll be magical, and you will love every second. Remember how confident you were about this last night?”
She deflated a little bit after that, letting go of her hair and searching his face for reassurance. “I suppose it can’t be that bad. They’ll - we’ll fit,” she announced, adamant. “We can do this. Griffin-Blake-Kane-Woods-Miller-Green family Christmas.”
“That's the spirit,” He grinned, pecking her on the nose. “But I do believe we will definitely be needing those air mattresses.”
She couldn't help but chuckle at him. It wouldn’t be bad, their friends and family. That’s what the movies were about, right?
But the thing movies forgot was stocking up on air mattresses and enough food for an entire army.
Not to mention the cleaning. Oh, the cleaning was the worst and Bellamy wasn’t particularly helpful either. While she practically ran around the house, stocked with cleaning supplies and insisted on Bellamy getting that especially nice silverware in the attic, her lovely husband heckled her.
“I think you missed a spot there, Clarke,” he pointed at the window she was just done cleaning. Alright, he wasn’t all that bad and she wasn’t about to go complaining he never helped around the house - she just preferred to do things on her own.
There was no spot and she turned around to level him with a severely unimpressed glare. “You could be helpful, you know?”
“Yeah, but it’s so much fun watching you freak out about this. I told you it’d be fine.”
After she turned around, offended (to be honest, she was faking offense only like fifteen percent), Bellamy stepped closer and wound his arms around her middle, nosing at her shoulder blade. Annoying, yes, but annoyingly cute.
“What’s got you so worked up, Clarke?” He asked, swaying them gently. She let out a puff of air.
“Honestly? We just moved in here. Like a week ago. And literally everyone is going to be here. And I just really want it to look nice, and I don't want Mom to judge us, or this marriage, or this house, or this Christmas. I just want it to be nice for everyone. A good old fashioned family Christmas, like you said.”
“Your mom is going to love it,” he gently whispered. “My mom is going to love it. Everyone’s moms are going to love it!”
She turned around to face him, bits of dust catching in her hair and her eyes giving away the fatigue of trying to get everything ready in time for the first guests to arrive.
“Okay, let’s not pretend for a second that you don’t want Kane’s approval as much as I want my mom’s.”
No one really wanted to remember the accident at their engagement party when Bellamy tried to show off his “awesome” (his words, not Clarke’s) magic tricks and succeeded only in soaking Kane to the bone when he pulled out a tablecloth under what must have been at least ten glasses of champagne.
Bellamy winced, obviously remembering the very same thing now going through Clarke’s mind, and he nodded. “Alright, everyone’s parents are going to love it. What’s for dinner?”
“Your head on a stick if you try and suggest I should make it.”
He put a hand over his heart, fake-shocked. “I would never!”
They ended up ordering pizza, joined by an Enthusiastic Monty in a Christmas jumper and an ever stoic Nathan Miller, looking only slightly regretful that he was wearing a sweater that matched his boyfriend’s exactly.
“Sorry we’re having to impose on your whole family christmas thing guys,” Monty had said upon entering.
“It’s really no trouble Monty, you two were such a big help with moving and stuff, it’s really the least we could do,” Clarke answered, taking his jacket and setting it aside. “Besides, it really wouldn’t be Christmas without your famous egg nog.”
“Thank you guys again, for the hospitality. Really means a lot,” Miller added with a smile, clapping Bellamy on the shoulder. “I really look forward to you slipping off the roof and busting your ass putting those lights up again like you did that time Junior year.”
“You’re never going to let me live that one down, are you?” Bellamy chuckled, following Clarke and Monty into the kitchen where the pizza was waiting on them.
“Never in your wildest dreams, Blake. Clumsiness like that is something people cherish. It’s endearing,” Miller claimed with mock seriousness in his tone, earning a playful punch from the other boy.
“Plus,” Monty leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, with a wink in Clarke’s direction, “it’ll be a good one for the kids.”
“Yeah,” Miller nodded at his boyfriend and suddenly, Bellamy suddenly understood why the two were dating, sarcastic little shits. “Little Napoleon and little Cleopatra really should hear about the time their dad broke his ass putting up Christmas lights.”
Miller grinned when Bellamy shoved him aside, moving away to get to Clarke. “I know they’re our friends but can we lock them in the shed? Please?”
“Why would I ever deprive myself of such valuable entertainment?” Clarke chuckled with a huge grin.
“Because you love your husband dearly and his pain is your pain?” Bellamy offered with a sheepish smile. That too would not pass, if Clarke’s unimpressed stare was anything to go by.
She was still grinning when she physically pushed him out of the kitchen. “Nope, I don’t think so. Boys, he’s all yours!”
They all piled up in the living room to eat, binge watching Food Network shows like Chopped and Cutthroat Kitchen and pointed out the sexism. It was actually a blast.
What wasn’t a blast was waking up at the asscrack of dawn (alright, 8am, but during the holidays getting up at 8am is equal to sacrilege) because someone was at the door.
Clarke scrambled out of the bed, shaking Bellamy awake and hissing at him to go get the door.
In pajamas and with a serious case of bedhead definitely wasn’t how Clarke imagined she’d greet her mother, Marcus and -
“Vera?” Clarke asked, trying to stifle the shock in her voice at the sight of Marcus Kane’s mother, a very kind but sort of flaky old lady. “I didn’t know you’d be joining us. Oh, sorry, come in, come in.”
“Of course, dear, I was delighted when Marcus asked me to come. Butterscotch?” she asked, offering a small toffee she managed to procure from her flowery purse.
She ushered them in as Bellamy hid away in the kitchen, pretending like he’s making coffee. Her mother wrapped Clarke in her arms, she did the small talk bit with Marcus and Vera, assured them that everything is absolutely amazing and going according to plan.
The real fun started when Bellamy placed coffee in front of all of them, only for Clarke to nearly choke on hers as Abby inquired, with an honest interest, “So, are you two trying for a baby?”
As Clarke sputtered, Bellamy rubbed her back and changed the subject, “So, I hear California is lovely this time of year. Really - uh - warm? Are you guys enjoying it?”
The festivities have officially begun.
She squeezed his hand tighter under the kitchen island, silently thankful. The subject was dropped although Clarke could still see that predatory look in her mother’s eyes, the same one every mother who wanted to become a grandmother had - frighteningly maternal.
They were just on their second cup of coffee and Clarke on her second minute until what would surely be a breakdown when a sleepy Monty stumbled in, accompanied by no better-looking Miller, prompting Abby to jump up from her seat and pinch both of their cheeks.
“Oh Clarke! Why didn't you tell me Monty was joining us for the holidays?” Abby shrieked, clinging to the sleepy boys smaller frame.
“Well I actually didn't know until yesterday,” Clarke confessed. “But I'm happy you're pleased with his presence, I guess,” she chuckled faintly. What came next was murmured under her breath. “God knows I’m not pleased with anything.”
Only Bellamy seemed to catch that and somehow, by managing to rope Miller into explaining Marcus and Vera all about his job, slipped out of the room, tugging Clarke along. It wasn’t even nine in the morning and she already looked weary.
The thing was, the original eight was alright. Eight she could handle. Eight was a good number, two cubed, manageable.
But now Vera was there, too, and while Clarke didn’t explicitly mind it, she was feeling a little panicked.
“Clarke, are you still with me?” Bellamy asked, sounding almost frightened as they managed to close the doors to their bedroom.
“Honestly, I feel like I’m still in that kitchen. I’ll have flashbacks, Bell.”
“Listen to me, we can do this. We can handle this. That’s marriage, dealing with crazy relatives. Together.”
“The wedding was six months ago, Bell. That’s was the last time I actually saw my mother in person. Face to face. And she’s already down my throat about grandchildren, Bellamy. Grandchildren. I want to have a thousand babies with you, I do. But I would appreciate it if she wouldn’t question our sex life with her boyfriend and his mother present.”
“Is that the only thing that’s upsetting you?”
“This is slowly becoming an episode of Full House. I’m not Bob Saget, Bell. I’m not strong enough to be Bob Saget,” she whisper yelled in one full breath.
“I believe in you, Princess. If anyone has the strength to be Bob Saget, it’s you.”
With that, he pressed a peck to the top of her bird’s nest of hair, embracing her in what seemed to be one of the last moments of calm they’d get. Clarke’s mother’s squeals could be heard even through two doors, Vera was offering butterscotch to someone else and Clarke regretted not investing in thicker insulation.
“I can’t wait for Lincoln to get here. His brooding silence is so comforting,” She mumbled into the fabric of Bellamy’s t-shirt.
“But with Lincoln comes an extremely rambunctious pair of twins I know, and Octavia at Christmas time is not a force to be reckoned with,” he warned her with a smirk.
“You're supposed to be making me feel better, dipshit,” she scolded without heat. “Your mother can help me hold down the fort. I only married you for her, to be honest.”
“So I’m not even a trophy husband?” Bellamy gasped, completely ridiculous with his messy curls and still in his pajamas. In an alternate universe, Clarke would drag him back to bed and spend the rest of the day right there.
But this wasn’t an alternate universe, even if it did look like a Full House episode.
“Not at all. You don’t have what it takes. Namely, the ability to shut up and smile for the camera.”
Bellamy tangled their fingers together, bringing her hands up to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “We’re still awesome.”
“Yeah, we are.”
“So, what’s next?” he asked, swinging their joined hands at their sides.
“Well, I was thinking you could go pick us out a nice tree. I have a ton of grocery shopping to do, so we can hit two birds with one stone. I’ll even pick us up some extra lights and stuff while I’m out. And you can bring Marcus with you! It'll be fun,” she exclaimed, bouncing on her heels.
“What about your mom and Vera? Won’t they get bored?”
“They can come with me,” Clarke shrugged. “Mom loves to shop in all forms, and Vera can buy some butterscotch that isn’t sixteen years old.”
“But I love lint-covered stale candy,” Bellamy mock-pouted, earning a chuckle out of his wife. “The guess-the-mysterious-fuzz game is half the fun!”
“You know how I always like to say that I take it after my dad?” she asked, fixing up a serious expression. Bellamy nodded, obviously remembering all of the conversations in which Clarke couldn’t be more pissed at her mom. “Yeah, I think I’m more like my mom. See, we both did the right thing by hooking up with guys who have great moms.”
“You’re the worst.”
Clarke only laughed at that, shipping him off to get a nice enough Christmas tree with Marcus and hoping that it won’t end with someone getting maimed or killed. You never could know what’s going to go down when Bellamy was left alone with Marcus. It was like a ridiculous Russian roulette. Except, you know, more embarrassing.
For her part, Clarke managed to get her mom and Vera in the car as Monty and Miller waved from the front porch. The two decided they’d help with dinner that day, as a thank you for letting them stay over, and Clarke knew that even if everything else failed, Monty’s eggnog wouldn’t fail her.
“Where are we going, dear?” Vera chirped from the backseat, enthusiastically looking around as Clarke navigated the busy streets. A week from Christmas was the prime time for everyone to get panicked and start shopping fervently.
“We need groceries and decorations so, the nearest mall, really?”
“Oh, that’s lovely.” Vera beamed at Clarke, making the latter finally relax. There were just some people who made you feel warm and fluffy inside and Vera was one of them. “I hope they have those amazing ceramic peacocks. You and Marcus could really use a few in your garden, Abby.”
Clarke’s eyes flicked to Abby, an eyebrow raised in a question and her mother just sighed wearily, shaking her head in a don’t ask manner. “Of course, Vera.”
As she turned into the mall’s parking lot, Clarke couldn’t help a wicked grin. Oh, this was going to be good.
On the other side of the town, Bellamy was trying to break a very tense, very awkward silence with Marcus Kane. Clarke loved teasing him about it but Bellamy just couldn’t help wanting to impress the man. He never met Clarke’s father, the man having long passed before Bellamy even met her, and so Kane was the closest to Clarke’s father figure he’d get.
“So uh,” Bellamy began, eyes flicking from the road, to Kane, and then back to the road. “how has work been?” God he could kick himself. He was really bad at this.
“It’s been decent,” Kane countered, giving Bellamy a nod. “How has teaching been going?”
“Oh, it’s been great. I mean, it’s not going, right now, because of break and stuff. Which is nice, because of the off-time.”
Damn it, Bellamy, get it together.
When Kane said nothing, only stoically kept quiet staring out the windshield, Bellamy ranted, “But, uh, my students are great. We just had Peloponnesian war reenactment. They were really enthusiastic about it, even had a couple of kids end up at the nurse’s.”
Kane frowned at him and Bellamy rushed to explain, aware of how it might have sounded like he supports violence. “Nothing big, just a few bruises when one of the kids broke the window. I mean, no one was actually really hurt.”
“How… interesting. And you said these are fourteen year-olds we are talking about?”
Bellamy finally realized that he was just digging himself in deeper and so he kept quiet for the rest of the drive, sneaking glances at Kane when the other wouldn’t notice and hoping that he’d forget all about the damned Peloponnesian war reenactment that seemed like a good anecdote at the time.
They reached the Christmas tree farm soon enough, thankfully, and set off in search for the absolute best tree they could find. Maybe it said something about him, but Bellamy wanted to make sure that they got the perfect specimen. Clarke would be happy, he’d be happy, everything would be great.
And they did - at 9 feet tall, with branches full of bristles and the greenest green he’d ever seen. Bellamy wasn’t sure what was better - the tree which would look amazing in their living room or the fact that Kane even cracked a smile as Bellamy stood near the tree, grinning goofily.
“This one’s a real beauty,” the salesman said, patting the tree like it’s a car. “It’s yours for a hundred bucks.”
Bellamy nearly choked on thin air when the salesman stated the price but he managed to recover quickly enough, masking it as a cough.
“A hundred bucks, isn’t that a little too much?”
“Well, sure,” the man shrugged, “but you seem like a man who’d want the best for his family.”
“Of course I do!” Bellamy defended, giving the tree a once over. It was gorgeous. It would look good in their living room but there were also added expenses of having to feed thirteen people. Most of which were either huge, had a huge appetite and two, his favorite niece and nephew who were still growing and thus demanded half a fridge worth of food.
“Well, then?”
“Are you sure it’s not seventy?”
He can haggle, he can totally do it. The summers he spent with his grandmother in the Philippines prepared him for it. This is what he’s been training for his whole life.
“Ninety-five.”
“Seventy-five.”
The man shot him a glare. “I’m no fool. Ninety. Take it or leave it.”
With a sigh, Bellamy got his wallet out and cashed out ninety dollars for the tree. It was worth it, he repeated all the way to his car, shouldering the fucking plant. They should’ve gotten the artificial one, it was nothing to be ashamed of.
This one did come in a pot, though. That’d give him points with Clarke who always moped about Christmas trees being cut down and dying after Christmas. Dying.
Kane clapped him on the back after they’ve strapped the tree to his Jeep’s roof, saying, “Well done, son.” and Bellamy couldn’t help a small, warm feeling in his chest. Yeah, this was the right call.
On the way home not even the silence was quite as tense. Instead, they chatted about Lincoln and Octavia’s kids, his and Clarke’s hypothetical kids (thankfully, Kane did not go so far as to outright ask him if they’re working on it - which. They were, it was awesome, practice makes it perfect and they’ve at least had enough practice.) and Bellamy wondered where had the time gone when they reached their street.
He swerved in, only to have to brake abruptly at the sight of a huge U-Haul truck unloading someone’s furniture on the pavement. It blocked half of the road and Kane said, “You’re not going to make it, son. Just go around the block.”
“It’s fine, Kane. I’ve got this.”
Checking the blind spot, Bellamy decided to be a normal, sensible adult instead of an overexcited dork who wants to impress his father-in-law and put his foot down on the accelerator.
“You-”
“It’ll be fine,” he smiled at Kane, shrugging it off and that’s when a horrible screeching noise came at his right, sending shivers down his spine because that would leave a scratch.
Bellamy only managed to blink before something very green and very big flew in front of the windshield, his first thought being ‘the government covered it up, aliens are real’.
And honestly, aliens would’ve been a much better scenario than the gorgeous, ninety-dollar tree lying on the road in front of them - split in half.