Chapter Text
From the first moment Clarke Abigail Griffin entered the world, pink-faced and wailing, tiny limbs flailing haphazardly, she became the center of her parents’ universe. Abby Griffin smiled tiredly as the small, sniffing bundle was placed into her shaking arms, and her husband, Jake, was staring at the moment old infant as though she was the most spectacular little thing he’d ever laid eyes on (to them, she was).
Abby and Jake had been trying for two years to have a child, so Clarke was truly a blessing. Regardless of their busy schedules, Abby as Chief Surgeon of Ark Hospital, and Jake the head aerospace engineer for NASA, the entranced first time parents made all the time in the world for their little princess. Before she was even old enough to comprehend the world around her, Clarke was spoiled and adored and so, so loved. Her little hands grasped at at-the-ready too big fingers, and a gummy smile was revealed whenever Jake pulled faces at her, the soft baby giggle often filling the Griffin household much more than the typical crying. But there was crying. A lot of crying. Accustomed to sleepless nights, Jake handled the night runs like a true champion, and nights spent with Clarke cuddled closely to his chest established a strong bond between father and child.
As Clarke grew in both size and age, so did her bond with Jake Griffin, who still looked at her as if she held the universe in her bright blue eyes. More often than not, he worked from home, claiming that:
“Abby, no nanny in the world could take care of Clarke well enough to reach my standards.”
“That's because you're a perfectionist, Jake.”
“Says the surgeon.”
When Clarke was four years old, all toothy smiles and scraped knees from exploring the world around her, colorful flowers braided into her loose blonde curls, Jake and Abby decided to try for another child. They'd always wanted more than one, perhaps a small brood, maybe three or four, but knowing how hard it’d been for Abby to have Clarke dampened their prospects. They'd settle for two, if they could.
Clarke was too young still to comprehend the intense joy her parents had experienced upon conception, but had fed off of the positive energy herself. When barely over a month later, darkness and despair settled over the household, Clarke didn't understand that either.
She’d never seen her parents cry. She was usually the one crying in this family. So when Clarke peaked into the master bedroom, much past her bedtime, to see her mother sobbing into her father’s warm embrace, tears cascading down the usually so happy man’s face as well, Clarke did the only thing her four year old mind could think to do. Small feet carried her to the bathroom, where she reached into the lowest drawer and pulled out two brightly patterned bandaids.
Upon seeing the tentative four year old enter the room, both Abby and Jake struggled to compose themselves, but Clarke pulled herself up onto the bed with them and very seriously placed a bandage on each of their cheeks, before kissing them both on the forehead and snuggling in between them contentedly. As the family of three cuddled together, comforted by each other’s presence, Abby and Jake silently wondered to themselves what they'd done in some previous life to deserve a daughter as good and pure as Clarke.
She’s seven years old and still as kind-hearted as ever when the Griffins finally get their second child. It wasn't in the way they initially planned, but they were grateful either way.
He’s ten years old, with scruffy hair and dark purples and blues coloring his pale, gaunt skin. A puckered, raised scar slashed across his nose, a constant reminder of the pain he’d had to endure. His blue eyes hold none of the light and joy that Clarke’s do. Instead, they hold storm clouds and deep, simmering anger. He’s cynical and sarcastic and rough at the edges, unaccustomed to the affection he was now being shown, heart heavily guarded and as skittish as a feral cat.
But when this short fireball of energy approached him tentatively, he found himself softening.
“Hi!” her voice is bright and happy. “My name’s Clarke! I'm your new sister.”
He opens his mouth to tell her that, no, she isn't , but the words catch in his throat as she continues, small hands carefully putting a Spider-Man bandaid on his scarred nose.
“Mama and dad told me that your parents were mean, so you're gonna be a part of our family now. I've always wanted a big brother, y'know, and I'm really sorry your parents were mean to you.”
John Murphy is ten years old, with scars much too deep for someone his age, but as Clarke brushes his hair and places a specially made flower crown (“ For you!” she had cheered, “ Flowers make everything better, Johnny.” ) and he can physically feel this small girl worming her way into his battle hardened heart.
It takes him over a year to finally call Abby and Jake his mom and dad (the same amount of time it takes them to file paper for his adoption), but it only takes him two months to call Clarke his sister (she's persuasive like that).
From that first initial meeting, Clarke and John ( Murphy, he insists everyone call him, except for his new family, of course) became inseparable. John was the one who walked Clarke to school, sat patiently while she sketched his face over and over and over, each attempt becoming more realistic than the last. He was the one who let her practice braiding hair on him, leaving in the precisely twisted hair until Clarke told him he could remove it.
When Clarke was ten years old, and a fellow fourth grader pushed her down at recess, it was John who seemingly materialized out of thin air, blue eyes burning holes into a terrified Sterling, who scrambled to make apologies and promised to never even look at Clarke the wrong way ever again.
He didn't have a lot of friends, because despite his softness with Clarke, John was still guarded and defensive, but he found he didn't particularly mind. When Clarke introduced him to Bellamy, the older brother of her own friend Octavia, John found a kindred spirit. Bellamy had a fierce look in his eyes whenever he watched Octavia, and John knew that if anyone could understand him, it would be this boy, who would protect his little sister until his dying breath.
When Clarke was fourteen and started dating her first boyfriend, a floppy haired boy named Finn, John didn't know what to do with himself. He had a bad feeling about the boy, that he knew. Clarke, of course, brushed it off as his overprotectiveness because:
“John, you were ready to punch Monty when I first introduced you to him, and Monty’s gay.” Granted, John hadn't known that at the time, he'd just seen a boy holding Clarke’s hand and had been instantly on the defensive. He’d apologized (grudgingly, at Clarke’s insistence) and now regarded Monty with almost fondness, the sharp-witted Korean boy never once crumbling under John’s intense gaze. His partner-in-crime, Jasper, however, was terrified of Clarke’s older brother.
This time, however, John’s suspicions were confirmed when Clarke came rushing home one day in tears, telling him all about how Finn was dating a girl named Raven, and how he’d cheated on her with Clarke , and John saw red. Octavia had been told, of course, as she was Clarke’s best friend, and Bellamy (who was now coming to see Clarke as another sister) was the first to follow a positively murderous John to the boy’s house.
When Finn showed up to school with two black eyes and a broken arm, nobody batted an eye. He’d had it coming to him, and the floppy haired boy soon transferred schools, desperate to escape the mess he’d created. Raven, the other girl he’d hurt horribly, had quickly assimilated into Clarke’s tight-knit group of friends, and was the only member of the group who could keep up with John in terms of sarcasm and wit. At this point, John, who was seventeen, found himself trapped in the midst of too many girl nights, sighing and pretending to be reluctant when Clarke insisted that he sit down and let her, Raven, and Octavia braid his hair and watch movies with them. (He’d never admit that he knew all the lyrics and dance moves to both Pitch Perfect movies even under threat of death).
When John graduated from high school along with his now best friend, Bellamy, and recently made friend Nathan Miller, he was able to look out into the crowd and pick out his family , the thought making a smile creep across his usually neutral face. Jake was standing up and cheering, saying “ That’s my boy!” and Abby had proud tears in her eyes, and Clarke and her friends were cheering just as obnoxiously. The framed diploma hanging on the wall in his bedroom read John Murphy Griffin and he couldn't be more pleased with himself.
When he left home to attend university, Clarke found herself missing him more than she thought she would. Every morning, she turned, half expecting to hear her brother belting out the lyrics to the latest Taylor Swift song in the shower, only to be greeted by silence. While most older brothers would grow exasperated with their little sisters constantly texting them to update them on their days, John received every text with a bright smile, the picture attached to every text one of the Clarke he’d first met, with missing teeth and a flower crown planted firmly on her head.
When she was sixteen, Clarke joined the soccer team with Octavia, and John and Bellamy had exchanged groans at the news, because do you know how many sports related injuries happen every year? Now, when John returned home every Sunday for family dinners, Clarke offered him a play-by-play of everything involved in soccer politics, and grumbled fiercely every time she mentioned Ark High’s rival school, Polis Academy, and their soccer team’s infuriating soccer captain Anya Forrest and her cousin, Lexa Woods, who took every opportunity to try and utterly destroy Clarke, who played defense.
Clarke couldn't stand anything about Lexa Woods, from her annoying cocky smirk to her flawless footwork to those green eyes that looked like the gleam of dew covered leaves in early morning and her figure that must have been sculpted by the gods — oh my god did I actually just think that.
John was the one who received the panicked call at three in the morning, a frantic Clarke blurting out words at miles a minute that he couldn't quite comprehend, the only thing he caught coming out in a muffled rush:
“— John I think I'm kind of gay.” She sounded so scared, and he could hear the shaky sobs as she waited for a rejection of some sorts, only to be greeted by her older brother’s chuckle.
“ John this isn't funny, I'm having a crisis.”
“It’s alright, Princess,” he told her matter-of-factly, “it doesn't matter what genders you're attracted too, I'm not gonna stop loving you just because you're into chicks, and mom and dad won't either. Besides, it’d be a little hypocritical of me, don't you think?” And that was how both Griffin siblings realized the other was bisexual and Abby and Jake hadn't even batted an eyelash at the news because:
“Clarke, honey, nobody talks about how attractive Anna Kendrick is that much without being a little bit gay.”
“Ok mom but you have to admit she's stunning .”
“She’s twice your age.”
“That's besides the point, mom.”
“And don't even get me started on your obsession with Harry Styles, kiddo.”
“Dad I am nineteen I'm too old to call kiddo , and Harry Styles is too attractive to ignore. Everybody loves Harry Styles.”
Clarke’s group of friends was entirely accepting as well, but she hadn't expected anything else, because they were totally cool with Monty’s sexuality and Harper and Zoe were dating.
She continued her hopeless pining for two years, Octavia practically screaming at her every soccer match to just say something to the damn girl already, but Clarke refused to make a fool out of herself. Naturally, everyone was a little surprised when it was Lexa who jogged up to them after a particularly brutal match against the Polis Grounders and awkwardly asked Clarke if she maybe wanted to hang out sometimes.
Lexa got introduced to the Griffin family four months later, the summer before she and Clarke were scheduled to start college at Mt. Weather University, inwardly nervous and fidgety but refusing to show any signs of weakness in front of her girlfriend’s (she still balked at the fact that she had somehow gotten this blonde haired blue eyed goddess to be her girlfriend) family.
Clarke didn't show how nervous she was, but she practically forgot to breath when John walked into the room, observing Lexa with calculating blue eyes and pursed lips. Right before Clarke was liable to turn blue from lack of oxygen, he nodded once.
“I approve of her a hell of a lot more than Fuckboy Finn.” After Abby quickly reprimanded him for his language, the two girls let themselves relax, Lexa because she knew that if she could gain the approval of John “I hate everyone who even looks at my sister” Griffin, then the parents would come easily, and Clarke because she valued her brother’s opinion more than anyone else in the world and she didn't want to have to be forced to choose between him and this girl who was quickly finding a spot in Clarke’s warm, open heart.
When Jake Griffin died in a car crash when Clarke was nineteen, and John was twenty-two, it was as though a dark cloud found its way over the Griffin household. They'd all coped with it differently. Abby buried herself in her work, trying to heal everyone she could in an attempt to stitch together her own wounded heart. Clarke refused to pick up a paintbrush for months, because it had been Jake who had taught her how to hold the tool patiently, showing her how to create life on canvases. John grew quiet where he’d once been loud, retreating into the shell he’d almost forgotten he had. It was Bellamy who coaxed him out of it, piece by piece, and Clarke who made him feel warm and safe again.
It took a while for the Griffin family to piece itself back together, but they were resilient, and always found a way to push through stronger than ever. John found himself writing a book about the kind-hearted man who had seen a broken boy and patched his tattered heart with bad jokes and piano lessons and self defense classes. Abby gravitated more and more to the children’s ward, leaving brightly colored balloons in their rooms while they recovered so they had something to smile at. Clarke painted and painted and painted until she swore there would be paint stains permanently etched into her skin, creating murals and countless memories of laughter and love and warmth.
When Clarke was twenty-five and working as a pediatric surgeon, as well as a part time illustrator for children’s books that John put so much thought into, it was John that Lexa came to, as nervous and jittery as she’d been when Clarke first introduced her to the Griffin family, showing him a beautiful ring that she'd picked out that practically screamed “Clarke”.
It was John who walked Clarke down the aisle, eyes just as wet as his mother’s, a bowtie snuggly fitted against his neck and a brightly colored flower crown perched atop his head just for old time’s sake. He nodded solemnly at Lexa when he handed off his baby sister, shooting Octavia, who was serving as Clarke’s maid of honor, a wink, and smiling at Lexa’s best woman, Anya.
When he returned to his seat next to Bellamy, tears in his eyes and warmth in his heart as he watched his little sister marry the woman she loved, he swore he felt his father’s presence, just as comforting and proud as it always had been.
Two years later, when it was his own turn to get married, Clarke served as his best woman, marching him down the aisle and delivering him with a quick:
“I love you, Bell, but mess this up and there’ll be hell to pay.” Bellamy had laughed and smiled at John, and the man knew that this was the right decision. With Bellamy, he felt just as safe and warm and loved as he had when he’d first been adopted into the Griffin family, and he pretended to not notice Nathan’s tears from where he stood behind Bellamy as his best man.
Even in adulthood, Clarke and John were never far apart. Sundays were still reserved for family dinners at the old Griffin House, except now they were a little more busy. The long table that used to hold only four people now held a swarm, as Abby had always has a soft spot for Clarke’s friends. Clarke and Lexa sat across from Bellamy and John, who of course brought Octavia and her husband Lincoln, and Raven and Anya, and Monty and Nathan, and Jasper and his sweet girlfriend named Maya who everyone fell in love with. Once a week, the house that held echoes of a warm, deep laugh and off-key renditions of Taylor Swift songs and much too loud slumber parties were again filled with life and laughter and so, so much love.
Abby’s pestering for grandchildren was finally answered when Clarke was twenty-nine and John was thirty-two. John smiled as he watched his little sister swell with life, reading his own children’s books to her stomach as Lexa watched on with awe and pride, and when Aden Jacob Griffin-Woods entered the world red-faces, with hair that held Lexa’s unruly curls but Clarke’s golden hue and bright baby-blue eyes, he was instantly adored by his ever growing family.
Around the time Clarke and Lexa had their second, a brown haired blue eyed little girl named Costia, John and Bellamy adopted their first. He was five years old with curly brown hair and curious brown eyes and the two instantly fell in love, Bellamy especially upon discovering that his name was Augustus (ever the historian), or Augie for short.
Abby had always wanted a small gaggle of children, but was perfectly happy with the two she’d been blessed with, and the others who weren't technically hers but called her Mama G. Sundays were now accompanied by swarms of small arms demanding warm grandma hugs and munching on Jake’s famous chocolate chip cookie recipe, and Abby couldn't be happier. Clarke and Lexa added two more to the mix, twins named Tris and Oliver. Bellamy and John adopted two more, a soft-spoken boy from Haiti named Wesley and a firecracker of a girl from Vietnam named Phuong. Octavia and Lincoln had twin boys named Nyko and Jefferson, who rough housed with Aden on a regular basis. Anya and Raven were mothers to a four year old girl named Elizabeth, who was never far away from Nathan and Monty’s little boy Ian. Maya nursed an infant Demitri to her chest, whose name signaled that he'd one day be a chemist like his father.
It was hard to find quiet during the chaos, the large house filled with cooking and children playing in the yard and running up and down the worn stairs, but Clarke found her brother sitting on the front porch in their father’s trusty old rocking chair, where he’d often held them and dried their tears, staring into the distance.
“Something interesting out there?” she asked, sitting on the soft chair next to his that belonged to Abby. John turned for a moment to observe her in the gentle light of the sunset.
“Just thinking,” he responded. He was forty-seven years old and Clarke was forty-four, and they hadn't changed much since the day they first met. Of course, John had softened immensely with the constant love he’d been surrounded by, and Clarke was still the same, big-hearted and kind and caring.
“Don’t hurt yourself, big brother,” she teased, and John rolled his eyes. They really hadn't changed that much, their relationship still filled with teasing and competition and so, so much love.
“If I do, at least I know I've got someone to put a Spider-Man bandaid on me.” The old scar on his nose had faded significantly, as had the negative memories that surrounded it, and as he sat with his sister, looking out at the darkening sky, surrounded by children and nieces and nephews and a loving family, John felt warmth spread through his skin.
“Going soft, are you?” Clarke’s bright blue eyes were alight with mischief. “Watch yourself, that cute boy named Bellamy might think you aren't cool enough to hang out with him.”
“At least I talked to Bellamy,” John laughed, “you refused to talk to Lexa for two years.”
“And yet I still got married two years before you.”
Yeah. Having a family was nice. They wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.