Chapter Text
Clarke’s feet ache with exhaustion. She’s barely had a chance to sit down all day, spending every spare moment between classes working on her mural for the art exhibition. Shifting her book-stuffed bag to the other shoulder, she tries to remember if coffee and half a bagel at half past seven was the only meal she ate.
The wintry light is fading rapidly and she has to blink her eyes back into focus several times on the drive home. Staring at canvases all day has exhausted her eyes and given her the start of a headache. If she didn’t have one more piece to work on, she’d be in bed by six o’clock. The obscenely early darkness does nothing for her motivation and a warm, cozy bed sounds like heaven.
Blinking thickly, she drives almost entirely on autopilot. Her mind is overrun with fantasies of sleeping in over Thanksgiving break and not reading a single textbook.
And—Bellamy is supposed to be cooking dinner tonight. Brightened by the thought, Clarke hums a little as she makes the last few turns to their townhouse.
As she pulls up their street, her eyes are assaulted by twinkling white Christmas lights strung from every window and eave of their house. Colorful, flashing bulbs adorn the pine tree in the front yard—it’s become a giant living Christmas tree. There’s even a glittering star on top. The porch railings are wrapped in candy cane red-and-white. A fresh green wreath with a big red bow is on the door, over a small Santa statuette holding a “welcome” sign in his mittened hands.
Clarke stares with dumbfounded horror.
The lights get even more dazzling as she walks up the steps, noticing some wicker deer in the lawn. A bell on the wreath jingles obnoxiously when she opens the door.
“BELLAMY BLAKE.”
Silence meets her inside. Beyond the empty living room she can see light and the faint sound of Christmas music trailing from the kitchen.
Bellamy is frozen on a stepstool, balancing himself against the cabinets with one hand and pinning up a length of garland with the other.
“Yes?” He doesn’t quite meet Clarke’s eyes as he tacks the garland in place.
“It is October fifteenth.”
“Yes.”
“Christmas decorations, Bell? Really?”
“It’s festive!”
“It’s too damn early!” Clarke folds her arms, getting a familiar stony determination. “You’re taking these down. Until after Thanksgiving.”
“Excuse me,” Bellamy jabs a finger at Clarke accusingly. Glitter from the garland has coated his hand so it looks like he is wearing a very sparkly glove. “You aren’t the sole authority in this household. I pay rent too, you know.”
“IT IS OCTOBER FIFTEENTH.”
“We need time to get into the holiday spirit!”
“HALLOWEEN HASN’T EVEN HAPPENED YET.”
“You could probably use a little holiday cheer in your life, princess,” Bellamy informs her, folding his arms and matching her stony glare. He’s inadvertently wiped a streak of glitter across his shirt. “If you want the lights down, you can take them down yourself. Otherwise they’re staying up.”
Clarke glares. “Fine. I’ll take them down.”
Bellamy has a moment of bewildered panic. Why on earth did he offer that as an out? He should’ve known Clarke would call his bluff.
The front door slams, and Octavia enters. She looks exhausted, with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder from her martial arts class. The sight of her brother and Clarke facing each other like lions in a cage doesn’t cause the slightest flicker of surprise on her face.
Clarke rounds on her immediately for support. “Octavia, tell Bellamy it is too damn early for Christmas decorations.”
Octavia shrugs, dumping her bag on the ground and peering in the fridge. “Did no one warn you about how mad Bell is about Christmas before you agreed to be roommates?”
“You mean he does this every year?”
“You get used to it. Just be grateful he didn’t get you to help him put the lights up.”
Bellamy looks entirely too pleased with himself. “One vote from Octavia.”
“She doesn’t live here! She doesn’t get a vote!”
Bellamy huffs. “Fine. We’ll see what Raven and Miller think.”
Clarke looks a little triumphant. She may not have won the war yet, but she has won this battle.
Raven and Miller won’t be home until later, so they occupy themselves with making dinner and avoiding the subject of Christmas. Clarke painstakingly ignores the partially unpacked box of decorations in the corner. Fake candy canes and tinsel are spilling out. Chunks of cotton snow litter the floor.
Bellamy passes Clarke a box of instant macaroni.
“I thought you said you were cooking dinner.”
“I am. Dump that in the pot, please.”
She shakes the box of dry pasta accusingly. “This does not count.”
“It’s food. I’m making it. so it counts.”
Clarke frowns. “When you said you were cooking dinner tonight I was expecting like, mushroom risotto or something. Something good.”
Bellamy shrugs. “I didn’t have time to go to the store. Plus, instant mac and cheese? This is the height of culinary nirvana, Clarke.”
“For an eight year old, maybe.”
“You’re insulting my taste buds. Unforgivable.”
“Okay, but are we getting a side with that mac and cheese or are you literally feeding us nothing but that?” Octavia asks from the table. She’s poring over a book on martial arts techniques.
“First of all, I don’t know why we’re feeding you at all. Why aren’t you out to dinner with Lincoln or something? Secondly, yes we have sides.”
“I have to get back to class after this. Indra wants another hour of training tonight before the event on Saturday.”
“Indra is going to put you in the hospital one day. You’re walking like you got every muscle in your body beat.”
Octavia adjusts her position and winces. “I did.” She spends all her free time training with Indra, and comes home sporting various bruises and a stiff legged walk of
soreness.
“Also, tater tots don’t count as a side. You can’t have two starches. And we had those yesterday.”
Bellamy shakes a bag of frozen vegetables at her accusingly. “We have GREEN VEGETABLES for a side, thank you very much. I am all about balanced eating.”
“You ate poptarts and starburst for breakfast yesterday.”
“Breakfast doesn’t count. Anything can be breakfast.”
Clarke rolls her eyes. “It really can’t.”
“This is coming from the person who has had nothing but coffee and misery for breakfast for the past three months.”
“I don’t have time to eat in the morning! I have to finish this project before Thanksgiving break—“
“As if you’re actually going to take a break over Thanksgiving.”
Clarke has a mildly panicked and hysterical glint in her eyes. “I have three pages of illustrations to finish by Thursday and we’re going out in the field again tomorrow, and I’m not going to have time to work on the new project unless—“
“Unless you slow down and actually sleep and stop looking like a sleep deprived monster.” Bellamy stirs the pot of macaroni, dumping in the bag of powdered cheese and watching the pasta turn orange. He glances up and his face softens in concern as he sees Clarke’s harried expression. “Seriously, Clarke. You need to start taking care of yourself.”
Clarke rolls her eyes. “I will. After this semester is over.”
“No, now.” Bellamy says disapprovingly, shoving a bowl of macaroni at her. “Starting with actually eating proper meals. At reasonable times. Three times a day.”
Clarke looks at him in amusement. “When did you become such a mother hen?”
“When you decided to abdicate all responsibility of self care.”
Clarke covers her eyes with her hands and groans. “I don’t have time! I don’t even have time to breathe. I might actually still be thinking about class when I sleep, I had a dream about scientific diagrams last night—“ She looks like your typical college student on the verge of a mental breakdown.
Bellamy, now somewhat alarmed, takes pity on her. He sets the bowl of macaroni down and hugs her, enveloping her in warmth.
“It’s okay, Clarke. It’s okay. You’ll get through it. besides! It’s almost Christmas break!”
Clarke gives a choked sound that is somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “We are still taking a vote on the lights. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten.”
Bellamy sighs. “I was hoping the stress of school would make you somewhat more lenient.”
Clarke picks up her bowl and starts shoveling macaroni in her mouth. She points a cheesy spoon at Bellamy. “Not for a second, Mr. Blake. You get no clemency here.”
“Get a room, you two.” Octavia doesn’t look up from her book. “You sound married.”
Pink blush rises up Clarke’s neck. “Aren’t you and Lincoln planning to send out a Christmas card this year?”
“Yeah, but we’re actually, you know, dating. Unlike you two.” Octavia’s pointed glance makes them both blush.
They eat the rest of their macaroni in an awkward silence that doesn’t dissipate until Miller and Raven arrive home as they’re washing dishes.
Clarke washes a singular bowl and then taps out. “I don’t even care. I’ll do it in the morning.”
“Wow, Clarke. That one bowl must have been exhausting.”
“Shut up, Miller.”
Miller opens up his bag of take out. “Also, I’m heartbroken that you didn’t save me any.”
“Aren’t you lactose intolerant?”
“It’s the thought that counts. Still heartbroken.”
Raven snorts. “Would it break your heart if told you I ate your leftovers last night.”
“YES!” Miller claps his hand to his heart and feigns a look of injured shock. “Actually, no. but it might break Bryan’s---he was planning on that for breakfast.”
“Again, why are we feeding people who don’t live here?” Bellamy inquires, picking up at the dishes where Clarke left off.
“Give it up, Bellamy. This house is basically a charitable institution at this point.” Clarke’s voice rises over the back of the couch where she is flopped. She raises a hand and starts counting off points on her fingers. “Jasper bunked here for a week. Then Monty bunked here for a week. We feed Octavia. Lincoln invited himself to Thanksgiving last year after he tasted Raven’s sweet potato casserole. We had that cat that Bryan adopted until he moved into his new apartment.”
“So where’s our tax deduction?”
“Probably in the mail that appears to not have been opened for several weeks.” Raven moves a pile of papers out of a chair so she can prop up her leg. She fiddles with the brace, loosening up the straps with a sigh of relief. “You two really should be better at maintaining a household considering what a married couple you are.”
Silence.
Then Clarke pops her head over the back of the couch and reopens the Christmas light discussion.
“Okay, please tell me you are both reasonable enough to see how early is for the Christmas decorations.”
Miller shrugs. “As long as I don’t personally have to put up any lights, I don’t really care.”
“You might have to help take them down.” Clarke points out.
“Nope, that’s on you, Blake.” Miller raises both his hands. “I take zero responsibility here.”
Clarke rounds on Raven as her last hope. She looks mostly amused at Clarke’s distressed look and Bellamy’s satisfied smirk.
“How much of a dick move is it if I vote yes solely because I’m getting a kick out of Clarke?”
Bellamy looked like he was trying not to laugh. “I will take a dick move if it keeps my Christmas lights up.”
“Ugh, I hate democracy.” Clarke mutters, slumping back on the couch.
“Yes!” Bellamy wastes no time in plonking the box on decorations on the coffee table. “So should we put tinsel on the railing, or lights? I feel like the lights are classier but tinsel is just really festive—“
Raven cackles at Clarke’s face, but Miller takes pity on her. “How about a compromise? Only some of the decorations go up.”
“Okay, compromise!” She says triumphantly as she gets an idea. “Lights outside stay up. These,” she points to the decorations with distaste as Bellamy is elbows deep in them. “Don’t go up into after Thanksgiving.”
Bellamy sighs and pulls his hands from the box. “Fine. Cruel but fair.”
He looks sourly over at Miller. “Thanks, Miller.”
“I just saved us from a month of Clarke complaining. You should be thanking me.”
Clarke looks satisfied. “I will not have our house be that obnoxiously over festive house in the neighborhood.”
“Just you wait til November 25th.” Bellamy pats his box of decorations protectively. “It’s gonna be the goddamn North Pole in here.”