Archive of Our Own

I got caught up in conversation
You're the only one with my attention
And all I want to do is melt into you
It's the highlight of my night
Wait for a slow song
Wait for a slow song to come on
Wait for a slow song

Clarke had known Bellamy for about as long as she could remember. There was a brief period while she was learning to walk that she couldn’t remember him being around, but she had a lot on her mind at the time and probably wouldn’t have noticed a precocious older boy in the corner when she was practicing taking steps.

Their parents had been friends since high school, so naturally they would want their kids to be friends. Octavia and Clarke were the same age, so they became close almost immediately, but Bellamy was a little older. He struck up a friendship with Clarke’s best friend, Wells, but they grew more distant as they reached high school and found different friend groups.

Bellamy’s dad had never been in the picture, but Aurora was enough parent for the Blakes and then some; she was always making sure Clarke was okay and that Wells had eaten enough whenever they were around.

Clarke had a strained relationship with her own mother, but she adored her father and when he died she thought her world was going to end. She was sixteen and it was nearly Christmas and she was heartbroken and she got in a screaming match with her mother after the funeral that felt like the end of something, so she ran away to the Blake house for over a week. Aurora took care of her and Octavia tried to talk to her and Bellamy just kept putting DVDs on the bedside table. She wasn’t sure when he was doing it, but there always seemed to be a new movie whenever the the credits rolled on the one she was watching. On Christmas Eve, Abby had come to Aurora’s annual dinner, and they managed to patch things up enough to spend time together, but things never felt quite the same after that.

When she graduated, she was accepted into the Pratt Institute in New York and it didn’t matter that it felt like running away because home felt empty without Jake and if he was alive he would have encouraged her to do what she liked. Wells ended up getting into Dartmouth (because of course he would) so he wasn’t that far away when she needed a friend. Octavia told her to look up Bellamy in New York - he’d graduated a couple of years earlier and would have been in his last year of college - but Clarke just wanted to start fresh.

Of course she saw him occasionally - they’d get lunch at least twice a year, and they sometimes bumped into each other at events; he was an aspiring author and she was an artist so their circles overlapped but they weren’t as close as they used to be.

Which was probably a good thing. Because at some point Clarke realised that Bellamy Blake was very, very hot. It was sometime after she first moved to New York. They met up for coffee and she arrived first, and when he walked through the door she actually lost her breath. Just for a second. She’d swear up and down that it never happened but she ended up accidentally admitting it to Wells while drunk a few months later and he never let it go.

And then, Bellamy got famous.

He had already published a few reasonably well performing books, a little niche, but that was Bellamy. And then his third book rocketed up the bestseller list, and he gained a reputation as “that hot author” and Clarke was forced to confront the fact that she wasn’t the only person who’d noticed the attractiveness of her childhood friend.

“He’s always been this attractive, Clarke, just because it took you twenty years to notice doesn’t mean the rest of us needed that much time.” Wells said, leaning against his boyfriend. They were in a little bar in Williamsburg and they’d been listening to Clarke rant about Bellamy’s sudden fame for nearly an hour.

She faltered. “What?”

He shrugged. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but I’m pretty sure that man was my sexual awakening in high school.”

“Gross.”

“What do you mean, “gross”? You can find him attractive but I can’t?”

“No, I mean… I don’t want to find him attractive. I’ve known him my whole life. It’s weird.”

Wells scoffed. “You’re seriously telling me that you never, not once, had a crush on Bellamy Blake growing up? Not even for a second?”

Clarke shook her head slowly. “He was always just. Octavia’s older brother. I never really thought about it.”

Roan made a face. “How could you not? I’d have ridden that man six times to sunday by now.”

Wells tilted his chin up to look at him. “Babe not everybody is as sex obsessed as you.”

“And the world is a sadder place for it.” He retorted, knocking his drink merrily against Clarke’s as they both knocked back the last of their beer. “Look, are you still friends with him?”

She hesitated. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

“Do you want to have his babies?”

“I don't think so.”

“So then it’s not a problem.” He pointed out. “You’re aware that Wells is attractive and that hasn’t affected your relationship at all.”

“I think of Wells like a brother.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “And how do you think of Bellamy?”

She stared into the bottom of her empty glass. “I don’t know. He’s just… Bellamy.” She stood up abruptly. “Next round’s on me and you better not be getting soft on me because I’ve been planning this bar hopping session for weeks.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep his lightweight ass safe.” Roan nudged at Wells playfully and Clarke rolled her eyes at them. They really were cute together.

So time passed, Clarke graduated, she dated someone, had a messy breakup that Bellamy had to help her through because Wells was too far away and she needed a friend, and she went to every one of his book launches. A couple of years later, when Bellamy’s fourth novel was yet another wild success, Bellamy’s second smash hit novel was turned into a movie and he invited her to the premiere but she was busy at work and couldn’t go, so he made her promise they’d go see it together so she could tear it to pieces over coffee later. For a while, he seemed to be something of a serial monogamist, always telling her about the girls he was seeing, but never mentioning the same girl twice. Clarke couldn’t blame him; she did something similar after Lexa. Wells and Roan got married, Octavia met Lincoln Arbor at the premiere of Bellamy’s movie and moved to L.A. with him. The last Clarke had heard, they’d gotten engaged, but there was no solid plan for an actual ceremony until Lincoln’s latest film wrapped. Everybody seemed to be in a relationship - there must have been something in the air - so naturally when Clarke got a job curating at an art gallery, she met an up and coming musician named Finn and they hit it off instantly. It was the first time she’d felt that way since Lexa, and she really thought it was headed somewhere good. Everything seemed to be going exactly the way it was supposed to.

She still bumped into Bellamy every few months, but he was usually surrounded by gaggles of fabulous women, or if they met up for coffee he was bombarded with autographs and even occasionally the paparazzi. He lamented to her sometimes that if he knew he would get famous he would have stopped at his second book but she quickly smacked that notion out of his head.

Life moved forward, as it always does. She kept in contact with her family, even visited sometimes, and she always knew where everyone was or how they were doing and what their plans were. Yet still Clarke wasn’t prepared when she received an invitation in the mail.

Abby Griffin was getting remarried.

It shouldn’t have floored her like it did. Abby had been dating Kane since Clarke started college, and it had been nearly ten years since, but somehow it still took her completely by surprise. She called them to wish congratulations and then immediately called Wells and Octavia to make sure they were also coming home for the wedding.

“Who has a wedding at Christmas?”  Octavia complained down the phone. “It’s like she can’t just let us have one holiday without thinking about her. Remember when she stopped our Easter Egg hunt just to make us eat the terrible cake she cooked?”

Clarke laughed. “Yeah, and that time on my fourteenth birthday where she made me blow out the candles again because she didn’t get a good enough angle on the video.”

“Of course I’ll be there. I’ll be home anyway, it’s Christmas.” That felt a little pointed, but Clarke had to acknowledge that Octavia was right; she hadn’t been back to Chicago in years. Octavia said something muffled away from the phone. “Lincoln’s coming too, even Bellamy’s invited. You’re coming, right?”

“Rude.”

“Hey, I had to ask.” Octavia snorted. “See you soon, loser.”

“Right back at you.”

Clarke told her mother she was bringing a plus one, but she didn’t tell her who he was. Finn had enough of an internet presence that his music was the first thing that came up when you googled him and Clarke had a feeling her mother would disapprove. Which wasn’t anything new - Abby tended to disapprove of most things she did - but she’d rather at least wait until she touched down on Chicago soil before her mother started questioning her life choices.

She heard that Bellamy was going too, and they managed to coordinate themselves so that they were on the same flight so they could meet at the airport. She said she was bringing her boyfriend, and he mentioned something about the model he had been seeing casually not being available so he was gonna go solo.

“Very brave of you, considering Cousin Josephine is gonna be there.” Clarke said, phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder as she rooted through her bag for her keys.

“Oh fuck.” He muttered. “Actually I think I’m also too busy to attend this wedding. I’ve got… things. Important things. Book stuff, y’know. Writing.”

“You’re not getting out of it that easily.” She said, unlocking her door and calling out to Finn that she was home. “If I have to suffer through my mother, you have to suffer through Josie’s relentless flirting.”

He groaned loudly. “This is gonna be a disaster, you know that right?”

“Obviously.” She tossed her bag onto the couch. “See you next week.”

She hung up and glanced around for Finn. She couldn’t see him which was odd because he was almost always sitting in the living room when she got home from work. After shooting him a quick text checking in and letting him know she’d put his dinner in the microwave ready to be warmed up when he got in, she collapsed into her armchair and picked up one of the many sketchbooks scattered on the coffee table.

After an hour or so, the door handle rattled and she looked over to see Finn shuffling in. “Hey, where have you been?”

“Got caught up at work. How’s your famous friend?”

“He’s fine, he’s meeting us at the airport on Tuesday.”

“Cool.” Finn nodded to himself, still just hovering in front of the door. “I’m gonna take a shower. Oh, by the way, it’s your turn to scroll Netflix tonight.”

“Bad move Collins, get ready to watch Treasure Planet for the four hundredth time!” She cackled, and he rolled his eyes at her.

“Do you actually know of any other movies?”

“What are movies?” She asked, blinking widely at him.

“You think you’re so cute.” He dropped a kiss to her forehead as he strode towards the bathroom. “Can we at least watch something seasonal? What about Love Actually?”

“That’s so depressing.” She pouted, even though he couldn’t see her. He responded but it was muffled by the shower, so she returned to her sketch. She realised she’d been absentmindedly drawing a familiar silhouette and quickly flipped over the page to start something new. That’s what she got for sketching while her mind was on other things.

The day of the flights, Clarke was frazzled.

Her shift was supposed to finish at three, but there was a mix-up with one of the exhibitions and she ended up having to stay nearly an hour over so by the time she got home, she didn’t have the brain power to notice that Finn was acting squirrelly.

In fact, it wasn’t until they were stepping into the cab that she realised anything wrong, and that was mainly because it hit her directly in the face. Or at least, something did.

She stumbled onto the sidewalk, confused, and saw a purse she didn’t recognise on the ground next to her. She tried to regain her bearings. “Um.”

“Sorry.” An unfamiliar voice said. “I was aiming for him.”

She craned her neck to find an abnormally attractive woman standing a few feet behind her, glaring at Finn with a rage Clarke rarely saw outside of the times she beat Octavia at Mortal Kombat.

“Why are you throwing things at my boyfriend?” Clarke asked, getting to her feet and dusting herself off.

“That’s not the question you should be asking.”

“Oh? What’s the right question?”

“Why aren’t you throwing things at my husband?”

Clarke felt her stomach drop into her shoes and then rocket back up into her throat. She wanted to throw up or pass out, or maybe get hit with the woman’s purse again.

Finn flinched guiltily. “Raven, I swear-”

“Shut up.” She snapped at him. “You have nothing to say to me. We’re done.”

“Babe-”

She stepped forward, shoving him into the dirty snow by the gutter. “How long have you been cheating, Finn? A few months?” Clarke winced and Raven’s head whipped around. “Oh my god. How long?!”

“Just over a year.” She said quietly.

Raven looked like she was going to kill someone. Hopefully Finn, because Clarke had a flight to catch. She started edging towards the door of the cab, making awkward eye contact with the driver as she did. With the last bit of composure she had left, Clarke looked to her boyfriend. “Finn? Get your things out of my apartment. Leave your key in my mailbox. I don’t want to see a single thing of yours by the time I get back from Chicago.”

He took a hesitant step towards her. “Babe, c’mon, we can-”

“I’m not your girlfriend anymore, Finn. Go answer to your wife.” She snapped, crouching down to pick up Raven’s purse. She held it out to the woman, an olive branch between them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Raven smiled sadly. “I know. Sorry.”

“Kick him for me, would you? I’ve got a plane to catch.” She said, right before she closed the cab door and it pulled away down the street. She didn’t look back. The cab driver was eyeing her up as if he expected her to start crying at any moment. Not an unreasonable assumption considering what he’d just witnessed, but more than anything else she felt numb. Maybe she was in shock. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the radio for the entire ride to the airport.

Once she got there, it didn’t take her long to find Bellamy.

He was leaning against the bar, sipping what looked like expensive scotch, and chatting amiably with three attractive women. It was ridiculous, really. Clarke tossed her handbag down on the chair closest to him - a few stools down, next to a pretty brunette - not really expecting him to notice her for a while, but he immediately caught her eye.

“Hey Princess!” He smiled warmly at her, the way he always did. She pointedly didn’t think about how sweet the crinkles around his eyes were. This was a thing they did sometimes - when Bellamy was swamped by fans or just needed an out in a social situation, he pretended Clarke was his girlfriend. The signal was always the word ‘Princess’, like a silent plea for help, and she always played along. Just for as long as it took the women to leave.

He beckoned her over, leaving his arm outstretched for her to fall into. She sidled over and accepted the hug, burrowing her nose into his shoulder just a little. It had been a bad day and Bellamy’s hugs were legendary for fixing all the problems in the world. Wells swore by them. So did Clarke, but she’d never tell him that.

“How was work?” He asked as she pulled away. His hand stayed on the small of her back, keeping her close.

“Awful.” She sighed, truthfully, but playing it up a little for the surrounding women. “I was an hour late, there was an issue with my cab, it’s like the universe is conspiring against me.”

His eyes raked over her, knowing that she’d left something important out, but she shook her head minutely and he squeezed her hip comfortingly. “I’m sorry Princess. But at least you’re here now, no more delays.”

She squinted at him. That was far too deadpan and she didn’t trust it for a second.

He grinned. “Except for the two hour delay on our flight.”

She slumped, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Fuck’s sake. I hate this day.”

Bellamy shot that concerned look at her again and she pried the glass of scotch from his hand and finished it off, enjoying the warmth as it ran down her throat. She still felt numb. When she put the glass down, one of the women cleared her throat expectantly. Clarke had honestly forgotten they were there.

“Oh, sorry ladies, this is my girlfriend, Clarke.” He said. “She’s an artist.”

“Sometimes.” She conceded, and he squeezed her hip again, sharing a smile with her. She turned to actually face the women. “Hi! You’re all fans of Bellamy’s?”

“Absolutely.” The brunette gushed, fluttering her lashes at him. “His characters are incredible, and the romance in the last one was just perfect.”

What kind of person flirted with someone even when their girlfriend was standing right there? Clarke felt her hackles rise and she tilted her head at the woman. “Aw, I agree. You know he based that on us?”

The smile froze on the girl’s face, and Bellamy dropped his head against Clarke’s shoulder to hide his amused smirk in her shirt. He was muttering something like, “You’re a menace, Clarke Griffin,” in what was probably supposed to be a disapproving tone, but she could hear the wobble in his voice as he tried to hold back a laugh.

“Really?” One of the other girls asked.

“Seriously.” Clarke moved closer into Bellamy’s space, standing between the V of his legs, and he lifted his head so he could rest his chin on her shoulder as they faced the women.

“That’s so sweet.” She said earnestly. “You guys are so cute together.”

“Thanks.” Bellamy said. “I like to think so.”

The girls stayed for a little while, chatting to him about his books, and Clarke just leaned back against him and closed her eyes, trying to get her bearings. God, she was going to have to tell her mother that her musician boyfriend cheated on her. This was going to be mortifying. She wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

After a while, Bellamy’s hand slid around to her hip again, getting her attention. She cracked her eyes open, lolling her head on his shoulder so she could see him properly. “Sorry?”

“I thought you might want to get something to eat before we go to the gate?” He asked. “Are you sure you’re alright, Princess?”

“Fine, just tired.” She mumbled, punctuating it with a yawn.

He slid off the barstool, keeping his arm around her waist to steady them both, and grabbed her handbag from the counter. “It was lovely to meet you, ladies, but I think I’ve got to get my girlfriend some food before she passes out completely.”

They made sympathetic noises and wished them a nice flight as he guided her towards one of the fast food joints towards the end of the atrium. She didn’t fail to notice he kept his hand on her back even after they were out of view.

“I forgot how dangerous airports are for me.” He muttered.

She elbowed him as they stepped in line. “‘It’s so hard for me to be surrounded by hot women who want my number all the time,’ cry me a river, pretty boy.”

He laughed. “Shut up Princess.” He ordered her food for her - how he still remembered her order after all those years was beyond her - and they sat down in a secluded corner to eat. “So, what’s going on? You look like you got hit by a bus.”

“Gee, thanks.” She chewed on her fry for a long moment. “I got cheated on.”

He froze, burger midway towards his mouth. “What?!”

“Finn. Turns out he’s married, and I’m the other woman.”

Bellamy put his burger down. “What the fuck?!”

“Yeah, I found out when we were getting in the cab for the airport. His wife threw her purse at me. Hit me in the face. She said she was aiming for him. I hope she aims her kicks better.”

His jaw dropped. “You found out this afternoon? As in, less than two hours ago?”

She nodded mutely.

“Jesus christ. I’m so sorry, Clarke. You don’t deserve that.” He reached across the table to cover her hand with his own. “If you want, I could have him killed. I’m famous now, I can do that.”

She laughed. “It’s fine. I’m just dreading having to tell my mother.”

He winced. “Oh god. We could always change the flights, go to California? Octavia’s not there so we can stay at her place.”

“You don’t have to cheer me up, you know. I’m fine. I think. I don’t know.”

“I’m being serious, let’s run away. Neither of us wanna go, let’s just bail.” There was a small tweak in the corner of his mouth the way there always was when he was joking, but for once she kind of wished he wasn’t.

“It’s alright, I’m staying in Dad’s old cabin outside the city, so I can hide from them for most of the time I’m there.”

“Oh that’s diabolical, why didn’t I think of that?” He muttered, and her phone started ringing from her handbag, which was still hanging over his shoulder. He checked the screen. “It’s Abby.” Clarke covered her face with her hands, steeling herself to answer the call, but before she had a chance, she heard Bellamy,“Hey Mrs Griffin. No, sorry, Clarke’s in the bathroom right now.”

She peeked through her fingers at him, mouthing a thank you which he shrugged off.

“Yeah I know, our flight got delayed so we’re gonna be a little while. We’ll probably get in about eight? No you don’t have to meet us, we can get a cab.” Bellamy paused for a moment, and something unreadable crossed his face. “Uh, no, why?”

Clarke shot him a questioning look, but he wasn’t paying attention, rooting through his travel bag for his own phone.

“Thanks, Mrs Griffin. Uh, Abby.” Typical Bellamy. She’d been telling him to call her Abby for years, but he could never seem to bring himself to. He hung up the phone and passed it over to her, already frantically typing someone’s number in and holding his own cell up to his ear.

“Bellamy?” She asked. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

His knee was bouncing up and down, jostling the table. “Your mom, she said… she said she forgot to tell me that she was sorry about my mother.”

Clarke blinked. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” He muttered, fingers drumming anxiously on his chair while he waited for the person - presumably Aurora - to pick up. Within seconds he’d become a ball of anxious energy, and when no-one answered his call, he pressed redial immediately, fidgeting in his seat.

“Bellamy.” She said, calm.

His eyes darted to her.

“Take a walk. It’ll help, I promise.”

“I don’t-”

“Go and pace, I know you want to.” She gestured at his still shaking leg and he forcibly stilled it. She raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m fine here, I’ll still be here when you get back.”

He stuttered over some apologies and strode out the nearest door. She could see him walking up and down the sidewalk near the taxi bay, mouth moving rapidly, so he’d either gotten ahold of his mother or someone who could.

She checked her watch - they still had twenty minutes or so before they needed to get to their gate. Clarke scrolled through twitter for a while, sporadically glancing up to make sure he hadn’t fallen in front of a cab.

Still, he was really pushing for time by the time he stumbled back inside and slung both their bags over his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, just lead the way to the gate, and she decided she probably shouldn’t ask.

He remained deadly silent the entire way through the airport and onto the plane. It wasn’t until they were sitting on the place, with an empty seat on Clarke’s other side, that he looked over at her, pain in his expression.

“She’s got cancer. She’s dying.”

Clarke swallowed. Cancer always hit a little close to home for her, considering it was what her own father died of. “Oh, Bellamy, I’m so sorry.”

“She’s my mom.” He whispered.

“I know,” she grabbed his hand and held it tight, “I know, I know, I’m sorry.”

He stared at their entwined fingers for a long few seconds, and she noticed something else in amongst the anguish. He looked almost… guilty.

“Bellamy? It’s not your fault.” She said, forceful.

He shook his head. “It’s not that.”

“What is it?”

“I… I may have… lied.”

“To Aurora?” That wasn’t like Bellamy at all.

He still wasn’t looking at her face. “Yeah. I was talking and she was trying to say something and I was… she said… she said that she had made her peace with cancer, she was happy, but that the only thing she regretted was that she’d never meet my future wife, the mother of my future kids, and I just. I said it.”

“You said what?”

He closed his eyes. “I told her she already had.”

“Already had what?”

“Met the future mother of my kids.”

Clarke’s eyes widened. “Bellamy. Tell me you didn’t.”

He scrubbed his free hand down his face. “I told her we were engaged.”

“You WHAT?!”  She exclaimed, so loudly that multiple people shushed her.

“I didn’t mean to, I just… and then I said it and she was so happy and she kept going on about how you were already part of the family and that this was perfect and it was fate and she was so proud of me and I’m… I’m so sorry. I will come clean to her the second we touch down.”

Clarke looked him over. He was in a complete state, anyone could see that. She was pretty sure she didn’t look much better. “I’ll do it,” she said.

He opened his eyes, head jerking up. “What?”

“I’ll pretend to be engaged to you.”

“Wh- Clarke, no, that’s ridiculous you shouldn’t have to-”

She held up a finger. “Look, I’m supposed to be surprising my mom with my “mystery boyfriend” tonight, and you’re supposed to be announcing me to your mother as your fiance. It would kill two birds with one stone. All we would have to do is keep the ruse going for a week, then we both go back to New York. It’s foolproof. We do it all the time.”

Bellamy was gaping at her.

“We’ve known each other forever, so it’s not like we’d have to pretend to know things about each other, and we’ve already proven we can do it, more than once.”

“To strangers, not to our closest friends and family! And never for more than an hour! What do you expect us to do for an entire week?”

“Hey, you’re the one that lied, I’m trying to help you out here.” She pointed out.

He faltered.

“If you want, we can forget I said anything, come clean to our mothers, but-”

“-let’s do it.” He said.

“Really?”

“What’s our story?” He asked. “How did we fall in love, how long have we been dating, when did we get engaged, why don’t you have an engagement ring, why didn’t we tell anyone, when-”

“-whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down, Blake. We’ve got two hours left of this flight to nail down the details and we don’t have to tell anyone until tomorrow at the rehearsal dinner. For now it’ll just be your mom, so we’ve got time.”

He took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. But you’re okay with this, right? You promise?”

“Pinky swear,” she held up her finger teasingly and he relaxed into his chair as he hooked his own pinky around it. “And as to why we didn’t tell anyone - have you met our families?”

He choked on a laugh.

A flight attendant offered them bags of peanuts and Clarke pulled out her sketchbook, writing down his list of questions. They had a long two hours ahead of them.

They dragged their suitcases through the airport, looking for the nearest restroom as they made their way towards the taxi rank.

Bellamy was mid-sentence, “So you can act normal with your mom tonight and then when we’re both together tomorrow we can tell-”

“SURPRISE!”

They jerked to a halt, because both of their families were standing in front of the exit, and there seemed to be a banner that said “MERRY ENGAGEMENT BITCHES” which had almost definitely been dictated by Octavia, but probably painted by Lincoln. Next to the two of them was Thelonius, Abby, Kane and Aurora were standing in the middle, and on their other side were Wells and Roan, who were grinning from ear to ear with more smugness than should be allowed on a human face.

“Fuck.” Clarke whispered.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us you were engaged!” Kane said enthusiastically, beaming at them.

“You didn’t even tell us you were dating.” Octavia said, slightly more accusatory.

“Oh my god.” Clarke took a step back, right into Bellamy’s chest.

“Yeah, what the fuck you guys?” Wells grinned.

“Not that we’re not happy for you.” Roan reminded him.

“Obviously, yeah, that goes without saying, but what’s with the secrecy?”

Clarke felt her pulse skyrocket. This was all too much. All she wanted was to go to her dad’s old cabin and spend eight straight hours on her own. This was exactly the opposite of what she needed. She lifted a hand to her forehead, trying to steady herself, and Bellamy’s arm slid around her waist, holding her to him carefully.

“Clarke, you okay?” He asked softly.

“This was your mystery man?” Her mother was saying. “You’ve been seeing Bellamy?”

“Seriously, why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Octavia asked, her tone even harsher than before.

“Probably because we knew you’d bombard us with questions?” Bellamy retorted sardonically. “What are you all doing here, anyway?”

Aurora smiled. “Octavia asked when you were arriving and I said that the two of you were probably going to stop off at Abby’s first to tell her the big news and, well, things just sort of spiralled from there.”

“Clearly that runs in the family.” Clarke muttered, earning a poke in the ribs from the man posing as her fiance.

Bellamy held up a hand in surrender as they all surged forward with more questions. “It’s been a long day, do you mind if we explain everything later? We kinda want to just go and crash.”

Abby frowned. “You’re not coming to dinner?”

“What dinner?”

“Clarke was supposed to be coming for dinner, so once I found out about this,” she gestured between them, “I invited everyone else. Surprising you was a byproduct of the dinner plans.”

“Great.” Clarke pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, sure, of course! I figured because the flight was delayed that you’d already had dinner, that’s all,” Bellamy said, ever the diplomat. “Whose car are we taking?”

“Mine.” Wells said, before anyone else could offer. Roan grabbed their suitcases and started walking towards the exit even as the parents offered feeble protestations. Wells hooked an arm around Clarke’s elbow. “We’ll swing by the cabin to drop their bags off and meet back at Abby’s in an hour or two.”

Abby nodded curtly, but Octavia looked furious.

“See you soon.” Clarke said over her shoulder.

“We want to hear all about it!” Thelonius said, waving.

They practically fell into Wells’ car, and Clarke faceplanted into Bellamy’s pecs. “Kill me now.” He dropped his head down on top of hers, forehead resting against her hair, clearly just as uncomfortable as she had been. They sat that way, wrapped up in each other, as Roan fiddled with the radio and Wells pulled out onto the road. Eventually, Clarke had to sit up and move over to plug her seatbelt in, and she tried to get her frantic pulse under control.

It wasn’t until they were well on their way out of town that Wells glanced in the rear view and caught Clarke’s eye. “So. How long do you plan to keep this up?”

“Just this week.”

“You told him?” Bellamy asked, surprised. “When?”

“I know everything about Clarke’s life, Blake. If she was dating you, I would have known about it the second it happened. Seriously, like, minutes after the sex finished, she would have been on the phone, gushing about-”

“-Wells.” Clarke warned.

“Sorry. You’re so lucky that the two of you are practically estranged from Chicago, because if any of your family members ever actually asked you about your lives, you’d be completely screwed.” He turned down the lane to the cabin. “I'm assuming Bellamy is staying here with you too now?"

“Yeah,” she said tiredly.

“Oh my god they were roommates.” Roan said under his breath.

Clarke groaned and turned to press her forehead against the glass. “I'm gonna kill you.”

“Me first.” Bellamy begged.

“You think you’re suicidal now, wait until after dinner.” Clarke said. “Mom’s going to gush over how cute it is that we got together, while also undercutting everything about our relationship and subtly complaining about the fact that we’re stealing her limelight the week of her wedding. It’s going to be delightful.”

“Why did we do this?”

“Because you’re idiots?” Wells suggested.

Clarke banged her head against the window in frustration. “This is going to be the worst week of my life.”

“This is going to be the best week of my life.” Roan responded, grinning.

Clarke was right - dinner was a nightmare.

Luckily it was only their close family, but if their behaviour was any indicator for how the rest of the week was going to go, she was about ready to leap from the nearest tall building.

They drove back in Jake’s old truck so that Wells and Roan didn’t have to wait for them, and they’d barely sat down to eat before the badgering questions started again.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“How long have you been together?”

“When did you get engaged?”

“Can you pass the potatoes?”

“Where’s the ring?”

It was exhausting and Clarke looked to Bellamy for some kind of reassurance. He rested his palm over her forearm on the table, thumb stroking back and forth while he loaded his plate up with more vegetables. Surprisingly just that simple touched really helped, but nothing could save them from the endless barrage of questions.

“Okay!” She snapped. “Okay, jesus, give me a minute, it’s been a long day and I can only answer one question at a time.”

“There’s no need for the tone.” Abby retorted.

Clarke opened her mouth but luckily Bellamy got there first. “Sorry Mrs Griffin, Clarke had a bad day at work and we really weren’t expecting to have to tell anyone tonight. We thought we were gonna come to dinner and then go to bed - we weren’t planning on announcing it until after the wedding.”

Aurora looked a little apologetic. “In my defence, I only told Octavia; she was the one who called the others.”

“I only called Wells.”

Wells made a face. “You told me you called Kane.”

“Snitch.”

“Gossip.”

Octavia threw up her hands and turned back to her brother. “Whatever. So. Explain.”

Bellamy sighed. “We’ve been dating for a little over a year-”

“-a YEAR?!”

“Okay, this is gonna go a lot faster if you don’t interrupt.” He said, and she quietened. “We always bump into each other in New York, and we have a standing coffee date every few months anyway, and last year I surprised her at one of her gallery openings.” He looked to Clarke for help and she took up the story.

“I hadn’t told him about it, so it was nice to see a friendly face in amongst the critics and my coworkers and he asked me if I wanted to catch up and get a drink afterwards, but I told him it wouldn’t finish until late and I didn’t expect him to stay that long. But he did.” She smiled over at him. This part of the story was based on something that actually happened - as all good lies are - and she remembered the way he’d shown up out of the blue and then refused to leave even after she told him it was okay. She remembered the way he’d stopped at every single piece of art and really took it in, and the way he’d asked about her inspiration over drinks and listened intently to everything she said.

Bellamy continued. “So we went out, and we were in a bar pretty close to my place so I told her that she should just stay with me instead of going home. It was late and I didn’t think she should be on the subway alone.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Such a mother hen.”

“Look who’s talking, Miss “I’m not sleeping in the bed, the couch is terrible for your back Bellamy, you know that”. Anyway,” he forged ahead as she elbowed him, “she stayed the night, and the next morning I pointed out that the gallery she was showing her stuff at was a lot closer to my place than hers so she could just stay at mine for however long she wanted.”

“Plus I was a good deterrent for all your screaming fans.” She teased.

“That had nothing to do with it.” He deadpanned. “And one thing led to another and… at the end of the week she didn’t have a reason to keep staying at my place. So I, uh, I made up a reason to go stay at hers.”

“Idiot.” She said fondly.

“What did you tell her?” Lincoln asked.

“He told me that a crazy fan had found his address and he needed somewhere to lay low for a few days.”

“Oh you’re such a moron.” Octavia shook her head at her brother. She looked back to Clarke. “So I’m assuming you saw through that immediately?”

“Yep.”

“I feel like I’m getting dragged here.” Bellamy said.

“You absolutely are. You’re never gonna hear the end of this, I hope you know that.” Wells tossed a balled up napkin at his friend’s face. Bellamy responded by throwing a bread roll at him.

“If you think that’s bad, wait until you hear about his proposal.” Clarke laughed.

“Oh my god, yes, the proposal!” Aurora gushed. “Spare no details - we want to know everything.”

“Actually, I think that’s enough for tonight.” Bellamy said, softly but firmly. “We’re both really tired and it’s late, and there’s a wedding to prepare for. How about we tell you the story after the reception or something? Let’s let Abby and Marcus have the limelight for a few days, like we meant to before Octavia told you all.”

“Hey!”

“No, he’s right, we should all be getting to bed.” Kane said, stacking plates up to take to the kitchen. “The rehearsal dinner is tomorrow and then we won’t have any time to think about anything except the wedding running smoothly until the reception. You’ll have to tell us the story after that.”

Clarke slumped in relief.

They said their goodbyes and were waved away, and the second they were on the road, Clarke turned the radio up full blast. She needed the music to drown out her aching brain, and it seemed Bellamy didn’t disagree, humming along as she drove them to the cabin.

They got ready for bed in silence, clambering under the covers and turning the lights out, and it struck her that she hadn’t shared a bed with Bellamy Blake since she was a kid. It was funny how things worked out.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to sleep on the couch?” He asked into the dark.

“If you want back pain so bad, I can kick you from here.” She retorted.

He laughed. “You’re a menace, Clarke Griffin.”

“Damn right, pretty boy.”

The next day they most hung around the cabin. Bellamy cooked breakfast, Clarke cooked lunch, and they both sequestered themselves within their own work. Clarke painted in the living room and Bellamy attempted to get over his writer’s block in Jake’s old office, and they were so engrossed in their respective work that they almost forgot about the rehearsal dinner entirely.

“Shit!” Bellamy burst into the kitchen where Clarke was changing her paint water. “We need to get changed.”

She looked down at her colour-strewn skin. “Okay, I’m gonna have a shower, you get dressed, and when I get out you can help me with my dress.”

“I hope you know I have more experience undoing them than-”

“-you’re the worst and I hate you.”

He winked at her as he disappeared into the bedroom. “Sure you do, Princess.”

She ignored the flutter in her chest - which was totally normal and completely unrelated to the smirk on her fake fiance’s face - and headed towards the shower.

When she came out, Bellamy was standing in the bedroom tucking his dress shirt into his trousers and she about had a heart attack. No-one had any right to look that good. It was unfair and she wanted to file a complaint. He saw her in the mirror and turned around. “Do I need to dress up all the way for this, or is it more casual?”

“Casual.” She said, because full sentences were beyond her capabilities when he was standing there with his shirt half-buttoned and a tie in his hand.

“So I can forget the tie?”

“Yeah, save it for tomorrow.”

He tossed it over his shoulder, grinning as he slid on a jacket. He ducked out while she put on her dress, only coming back in when she called for help with the zip, and she did her hair in a quick updo. She waved a hand at herself. “Acceptable?”

He looked her up and down, and his Adam’s apple bobbed slightly. “Yep.”

She grabbed her purse and her keys and headed towards the door. Bellamy snatched them from her hands and when she glared up at him, he just pointed at her heels. He had a point.

The drive was easy, both of them singing along to old Smash Mouth songs while she directed Bellamy towards her house.

“I can’t believe you’re so rich that your house can be your mom’s wedding venue.”

“Don’t lump me in with her.”

“Like it or not, Princess, she’s your mother.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

He put the car in park, trying not to smile. “C’mon, Your Highness, let’s go practice watching your mom get married.”

“This is so stupid,” Clarke said, following him towards the ballroom. “When we get married, we’re not doing a rehearsal, let’s just wing it.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “We?”

“You know what I mean.” She blustered, trying to brush over the fact that she’d just briefly forgotten that they weren’t actually engaged. This ruse was easier to sell than she expected or wanted it to be. They walked in to greet the wedding party, all fake smiles and forced politeness. Some people were easy to talk to - Aurora and Thelonius, the Best Woman and Man of Honour, were always fun to be around - but others were best avoided at all costs. Kane had somehow been conned into letting Abby’s brother Russell be one of the groomsmen, and he was a loud Drumpf supporter with very little tact and no off button. Not to mention one of Abby’s bridesmaid’s kept loudly talking about how Thelonius being a “Man of Honour” was stupid and why didn’t they just swap so that it could be normal, which clearly made both Kane and Thelonius irate, because while they were good friends, Kane, Jake and Aurora were the oldest friends of the group, and Abby had met Thelonius in college, so changing the order would have made no sense. Clarke took great delight in watching Abby patiently explain that to the woman until she agreed to just keep her opinions to herself. Her mother’s tactics were almost funny when they weren’t turned on her.

“Thinking about your own wedding?” Aurora asked. Clarke hadn’t even realised she was standing there.

She lifted a shoulder. “Thinking about how much I’d hate this if it were me.”

“That’s the Clarke I know,” she bestowed a soft smile on her, the ones that matched Bellamy’s almost to the exact crinkles in the corners of their eyes. It struck that she might not get to see many more of Aurora’s kind smiles, and her face fell. Which Mrs Blake clearly noticed. “Did Bellamy tell you?”

“He answered my phone for me and my mom said something. He was so worried about you.”

She tutted sympathetically. “Did he pace?”

“Is his name Bellamy Blake?”

Aurora giggled. “Poor thing. He was so upset. But I feel a lot better about it knowing he’ll have you to lean on when things get tough.”

Clarke suddenly felt the need to curl up in a ball and cry. Instead, she turned and hugged the woman who’d been like a surrogate mother to her for her whole life. “I don’t know how much help I’m going to be. I’ll be nearly as big a mess as he will be.”

“Then you can be messes together, and that’s what matters.”

“That sounds pretty on brand for them,” Octavia said from somewhere off to the side, and the two of them held their arms out so she could join the hug.

“Are you three going to stand there all day or can we start the rehearsal?” Abby called out.

“Talk about Bridezilla.” Octavia muttered.

“You’re telling me,” Clarke agreed.

“Nightmare.” Aurora concurred.

The ceremony rehearsal went well for the most part, despite the few hiccups, and by the time they sat down to the rehearsal dinner, Clarke felt a lot better about the whole situation. Her mom was getting married to a genuinely nice guy that she’d known her whole life, and her entire family was going to be there. It was nice. Especially considering that every time she made eye contact with Bellamy across the room, he mouthed something ridiculous at her, repeatedly sending her into fits of giggles.

All in all, it wasn’t a bad day.

Even the rehearsal dinner wasn’t that bad. Her mom’s best friend didn’t seem to know about the engagement, and Russell was too self-centered to ask, so they passed the entire day with almost no-one bringing it up.

On the drive back to the cabin, they swapped stories about their sides; Bellamy venting about the groomsmen and lamenting the lack of Wells and Roan, and Clarke telling him about Abby’s best friend almost falling off the stage and the arguments between Abby and some of the other women.

It wasn’t until they were getting into bed that Bellamy said, “Bad luck.”

She frowned over at him, lit only by the lamp on her side of the bed. “What is?”

“A good dress rehearsal - it’s bad luck for the main event.”

“Do you mean the wedding or us?”

He turned over to face her and she turned her lamp off, scooching down until she was at eye level with him in the dark. He shifted on his pillow. “I don’t know. Do you think the wedding will be okay?”

“With my mom running things? Yeah.”

“So probably us then.”

“You’re cheery tonight.” She poked his cheek. “Something wrong?”

“No, I’m just… tomorrow we have to see everyone. What if I have to tell your cousins I’m getting married to you.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I hate my cousins. You can tell them whatever you want.”

“But won’t it reach a point where the lie gets out of control?”

She sighed and rolled onto her back. “Then when we get back to New York, we wait a while and then tell people we broke up.”

“It’s that easy?”

“Bellamy? I had a good day with my mother for once. You had a nice time with your sister. If you need to pace, can you do it with your legs and not my brain, please.”

He huffed. “I’m just worried.”

“Me too. But we’re in this together, right? So if this all goes up in flames, we’re in the burning house together. It’s gonna be fine, Bellamy.”

After a second she felt him roll away. “You’re right. Night Clarke.”

Bellamy was right - the wedding was a mess.

Not for Abby; everything about the ceremony went as smoothly as was humanly possible, and the reception was pretty much perfect even by her incredibly high standards. No, the mess was all Clarke’s.

It wasn’t helped by the fact that Clarke didn’t see Bellamy all day. They split up in the morning, Bellamy going to be with Marcus and Clarke helping her mother, and she wasn’t allowed near her phone so she felt his absence more keenly than she expected to. But that wasn’t what started the shitshow. It started when they were sitting with Wells and Roan at the reception, talking about some movie that Roan had seen, and Cousin Josephine plonked down in the empty chair next to Bellamy. It was a rookie mistake really; Clarke should have known better than to let him sit on the outside when her cousins were around.

“Bellamy! Oh my god, it’s been years! The last time I saw you, you’d only just had your first big book, now you’re on your, what, third?”

“Fifth.” He smiled amiably at her.

“Impressive.” She said, leaning closely flirtatiously. “How long are you back in the Chicago area for? Because I’ve been-”

“Hey, Bellamy, you should tell Josephine the news.” Roan said loudly. Clarke cut her gaze across to him, nostrils flaring, but it was too late.

“What news?” Josie asked, curious as always, and Clarke noticed that at some point since she’d looked away, Josie had managed to get her hand on Bellamy’s thigh.

“Oh it’s nothing, what were you saying about inviting us to something?” Bellamy asked.

“Not these guys, just you.” Like she’d forgotten they were there.

Her hand slid further up his leg and Roan hissed, “You really gonna let her steal your man like that?”

Clarke leaned back in her chair. “Hardly.”

And right on cue, Bellamy’s hand came down over Josephine’s, lifting it off him. “What are you doing?”

Josie pouted. “Flirting, Bellamy, don’t tell me you haven’t heard of it?”

“I have. I’m actually pretty good at it, wouldn’t you say Princess?” He tilted his head back to see Clarke and she boldly lifted a hand and ran her fingers through his hair.

“You’re alright, I guess.” She said, and then he pushed himself up so he could press a quick kiss to her lips and her heart may or may not have stopped because she’d thought about kissing Bellamy for years and then it was suddenly happening but she had to act like it was something she did all the time and also Cousin Josephine was watching them and Wells and Roan were definitely laughing behind her and this was a Lot.

Bellamy sat back, eyes darting over her face, like he was checking that it was okay, that he hadn’t crossed a line. To reassure him that it was fine, she shifted closer, draping an arm over the shoulder closest to her and resting her chin on it.

Josie’s expression contorted into something akin to distaste. “Oh. So you two are…?”

“Engaged.” Bellamy confirmed, blindly reaching back to plant his hand over Clarke’s knee.

“You’re engaged to Clarke? Really? Her?”

“No, I’m not insulted, please continue.” Clarke said, but as per usual, it was like her cousin couldn’t hear her.

Josie sighed dramatically. “This is so typical; all the good ones are taken or gay.”

“Thanks, Josephine,” Wells deadpanned, “but I’m actually pansexual.”

Roan choked on his drink.

“Whatever, Jaha,” she scrutinized Bellamy and Clarke, like she still couldn’t believe it. “Engaged?”

“Yes.” He said slowly.

“Where’s the ring?” She asked, pointing to Clarke’s hand on his shoulder.

Bellamy harrumphed. “First of all, engagement rings are an invention of capitalism, so jot that down.”

“I’m in love with this man.” Clarke announced, cheersing sardonically with Wells.

“Secondly, she doesn’t have a ring because I’m asking my mom for hers.” He said triumphantly, and then it was Clarke’s turn to choke on her champagne.

“God, that’s so sweet.” Wells said, trying to draw focus from Clarke’s spluttering. “When Roan proposed to me, I had to take him back to the store afterwards to exchange the ring.”

“In my defence, I thought the diamond encrusted penis was hilarious.”

“Oh it absolutely was.” Wells said consolingly. “But I have a job where I work around kids, and coworkers who wanted to gush over my ring and I wasn’t going to expose them to that.”

“The teachers or the kids?” Bellamy asked, grinning.

“I’d like to think he’s not exposing himself to anyone,” Clarke added, low-fiving his held out hand.

Wells rolled his eyes. “You two are made for each other, it’s the worst.”

Josie realised attention had been off of her for more than a few seconds and leaned closer to Bellamy again. But this time there was no flirty gaze - this was vindictive Josie, and none of them were prepared for what she said next, “I thought you came back to Chicago to try and make it work with Gina.”

Bellamy stiffened. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re both at the wedding, Gina’s moving to New York in the spring, you’re both single now- or, I guess, you’re not, but still. It made sense. A lot of us had bets going.”

“I didn’t even know she was coming to the wedding.” He said, and Clarke could feel the tension running through his body. Just seconds earlier he’d been completely relaxed, and one mention of Gina’s name had set off his fight or flight reflex. She remembered when they’d broken up after he moved to New York. They tried to make it work long distance for months, but after a while it fell apart, and it had been Bellamy’s first real relationship. It had really fucked him up that it didn’t work out, and she was sure Gina felt the same way. They’d never been friends, but Clarke had always liked the woman; she was kind, and real, and always ready for a conversation.

Josie was still talking, but Clarke was focussing on Bellamy, and the way his pulse was throbbing in his neck. She only zoned back in when she heard the tailend of her sentence, “...get over here!”

And then Gina was standing in front of them and Bellamy stopped breathing entirely. She perched against the edge of the table and smiled. “Hi. Long time.”

“Yeah.” He said, strained, and Clarke shifted her hand out from under her chin so she could run her fingers through his hair soothingly. She felt him loosen up a little, and his chest rose with the small breath he took, but she was concerned he might pass out, and he wasn’t speaking, so she decided to take control of the situation.

“Hi Gina,” she said warmly. “How have you been? I don’t think I’ve seen you in at least, what is it, six years?”

“Maybe longer! God we’re getting old.” She laughed, and Clarke chuckled politely back. “How’s the art going?”

“Good. Yeah, it’s good, how’s the accountant life?”

“Very boring - I’m actually quitting my job and starting college again, in New Jersey.”

“What are you studying?”

“Philosophy. Thinking of being a professor somewhere.” Gina’s eyes kept darting to Bellamy, but he was still frozen and there was no way Clarke could distract from that forever.

She manoeuvred herself around so she could catch his eye. “Babe, you good?”

His eyelids fluttered, and then he snapped right back into focus, eyes locked on hers. He took a breath. “Yeah, sorry, just… reminiscing, I guess.”

“You sure? If you’re feeling sick we can always head back to the cabin.” She suggested, giving him an out, but he shook his head and leaned into her a bit, like he needed her support. As if she would let him go through this alone. He hadn’t let her talk to Lexa alone, and that had been way worse than this.

“No, I’m good. Thanks Princess.” And when he kissed her for the second time, it felt different; the first had been out of necessity, a show for someone else, but this was just Bellamy. Asking for help, apologising, keeping her close - trying to communicate everything he needed with a kiss. It barely lasted a few seconds, but when he pulled away, he looked so much more at ease, ready to face his past head on. He readjusted in his seat so that she could rest her chin on his shoulder again, and looked up at the one who got away. “Sorry, it’s been a long few days, I’m completely spaced out tonight. What were you saying, Gina?”

She smiled, genuine, the way her smiles always were. “You two are so sweet. How long have you been together?”

“Just over a year.” He said, hand instinctively finding Clarke’s knee again. “We see each other around in New York, and I surprised her at one of her exhibitions one night.”

“That sounds like the Bellamy I know,” her eyes were warm, not an ounce of malice or pain in them. “Always doing something selfless and not understanding why people are impressed by it.”

“Thank you!” Clarke pointed at her. “See, she gets it!”

Bellamy made a face. “I really don’t need my ex-girlfriend and my fiance ganging up on me. Like, on the list of things I wanted to deal with today-”

“Fiance?!” Gina gasped. “Oh my god, you guys are engaged?!”

And her voice was clear enough that people on the surrounding tables looked up like dogs catching the fox’s scent. Bellamy sank a little lower in his seat and Clarke tried to avoid looking anywhere but directly at Gina, because if she accidentally made eye contact with one of her relatives, they would invite themselves to the table and grill them about the engagement.

To her credit, she seemed to realise she’d been a tad too loud. “Oh. Shit. This is your mom’s wedding; probably not the right time to talk about it.”

“No, it’s fine, we like talking about it,” Clarke said, shooting a pointed look at Josie. “It’s just that there are some of my relatives who are gonna talk our ears off and fuck, Bell, Kara Cooper is coming over here.”

“That friend of your mom’s we don’t like?”

“Yep, shit, how does disapparation work?” She said, right as the woman arrived at the table. “Hi, Kara, how are you enjoying Mom’s wedding?”

“It’s not as good as her first one,” she said glibly, and Clarke tried to swallow the reminder of her dad without showing the sting of it on her face. “Did I hear right; you two are engaged?”

“Yeah, yes we are.” She said, nodding way too much.

“Well do you have a house of your own? You should never raise children while you’re renting.”

“Actually we live in New York, so we have apartments.”

“Plural? You’re not living together?”

“We’re planning on moving into one together before the wedding,” Clarke improvised, “we’ve both just been too busy to do it before now.”

“Well you have to start planning for these things now, because when you have kids you’re going to regret not knowing these things ahead of time. When I had my kids…” she kept talking and Gina mouthed an apology at them which they both shrugged off as they tried to pay attention to what Kara was saying. And then another one of her mother’s friends turned up. And one of Marcus’s nephews. And then there was a small crowd of people around the table bothering them about their relationship and offering unsolicited advice, and Clarke was beginning to get claustrophobic.

One of them was talking at Bellamy about how to best assemble a crib, and he turned his head and asked, “Dance, Ginger?”

“Nerd.” She scoffed, but she practically leapt to her feet at the suggestion, and they pushed through the crowd of people to make it to the dancefloor, where a bland slow ballad was playing. “Show me your moves then, Astaire.”

“No moves,” he slid his arm around her waist and knocked his forehead gently against hers. “I figured you could use a break; you looked like you were about to snap and stab Marcus’s nephew in the eye with a dessert fork.”

“Good timing. I was already holding the fork.”

He laughed, swaying them further away from their table.

“How are you doing?” She asked gently.

“I didn’t know she was invited. I’m not sure I would have agreed to come if I had known.” He admitted.

“Of course you would. And hey, at least this way you only panicked for a minute, instead of worrying about it for days.” The song changed but they kept dancing, and she hummed along to the tune, trying to remember where she’d heard it. She thought maybe it had been one of her dad’s favourites from before she was born, which was confirmed when she saw Abby wiping tears from her face while she danced with Thelonius, and Marcus and Aurora had almost stopped dancing entirely to sing along to it together.

She could feel Bellamy’s smile against her cheek. “That’s true. How do you always know the right thing to say?”

“I’ve known you longer than I’ve known the alphabet, Bellamy, I was bound to pick up a few things.”

“One would hope.” He said, and she felt like she was missing something, but before she had the chance to ask what it was, the music changed again and a much more upbeat song came on.

“Oi, Griffin, dance with me!” Octavia said, ignoring Bellamy’s protests as she snatched Clarke away from him. He wasn’t left alone long; he barely made it two steps towards their table when one of Abby’s work friends grabbed him. “So, what do you want with my brother?”

Clarke frowned. “What?”

“Why are you dating my brother?”

“Because I love him?”

“Is that a question?”

“Are you a psycho?” She retorted.

Octavia rolled her eyes. “I just think it’s weird that even though we’ve been friends since we were learning to walk, you wouldn’t tell me that you started dating my brother. Like, not once, on any of our skype calls, or in any of the texts you sent, did you mention it. For a year. I just don’t get why you wouldn’t tell me something like that. Or why he wouldn’t tell me something like that.”

Clarke twirled her and when she came back, she was still waiting for an answer. “Look, you were travelling with Lincoln all year, and when you did call, I was usually in the middle of something, or busy.”

“Not good enough.”

She sighed. “Honestly? I forgot.”

“You forgot. You forgot to tell me you were dating my brother?”

“It just… I don’t know, it doesn’t really feel like anything changed. We still see each other all the time, we still tease each other and support everything we do; all that really changed is that we started sleeping together.”

“Urgh, gross.”

“See! Why would you want to know that?”

“Stop making good points, I’m mad at you.” She complained, but her gaze was already softening. “Are you sure you’re not just in it for the money? He’s rich and famous now.”

Octavia spun her out and back in and Clarke shrugged. “He’s not that rich. And his fame is super annoying. Women come up and flirt with him in front of my face.”  The song changed and they watched as Bellamy tried to leave the dancefloor again, only to be accosted by yet another woman and dragged back into the centre of the room. “Case in point.”

“You’re gonna be my sister.” Octavia said, an edge of awe in her voice. “Do you know how many times I wished you’d been my sister when I was a kid?”

“I was always your sister, O,” Clarke turned their dance into more of a swaying hug. “It’s just a bit more official now.”

“Hey,” she asked, “do you think you’re staying for Christmas this year?”

“I don’t know, O, my family doesn’t have a great track record with Christmas.”

“I’m not asking for me,” Octavia looked to her left, where Aurora was sitting, talking to one of Clarke’s more amenable cousins. “I just thought… this might be the last Christmas we get as a family, and I thought you and Bellamy should be here.”

“Bellamy’s not staying?” Clarke asked, surprised.

Octavia shook her head. “He said he’s going home with you.”

“When did he say that?”

“Yesterday. He didn’t talk to you about this?”

“No, I guess I just figured he’d stay for Christmas, I mean, he usually does.”

“Can you stay? Please? If you stay, Bellamy will, and it’ll make Mom’s year.” Octavia begged as the song began to wrap up.

Clarke couldn’t say no to that. “Of course, absolutely. We’ll stay as long as she wants.”

Her elbow bumped into someone behind her and, thrown off rhythm, she stumbled into a familiar chest. Bellamy scowled petulantly at his sister as he tugged Clarke closer. “I’m going to steal my fiance back now. Don’t you have your own fiance to dance with?”

“He doesn’t dance.” She pouted.

“Well that’s bullshit, because he’s spent the last song and a half dancing with me.” Bellamy said. At his sister’s confused look, he smiled. “He rescued me from Cousin Josie.”

Clarke twisted out of his grip, searching the room. “She’s still trying to flirt with you? I’ll kill her-”

He laughed, catching her around the waist and dragging her back. “Calm down, Tyson, you know I don’t have eyes for anyone but you.”

And he was joking, but as the music played and they somehow ended up waltzing lazily to a slow cover of Oops! I Did It Again, Clarke found herself thinking that she could get used to this. Which was very, very bad. And it was going to get worse, because she’d just promised they’d stay until at least Christmas and they’d have to keep up the ruse the entire time. She stepped closer to Bellamy, burrowing into the crook of his neck, and they swayed together. “I told Octavia we’d stay.”

“Okay.” He said.

“What, no arguments? No complaints that I made a decision for both of us? One that’s going to make both of our lives significantly harder for the next two weeks?”

He nosed at the hair behind her ear. “Nope. My Mom wants me here for Christmas and she wants you with us, and I have zero problems with that. One might even say I’m in support of the idea.”

“I figured we could always hide out in the cabin if we don’t want to deal with everyone, and it gives you time to write, and more time with your Mom-”

“I’m already sold, Princess.”

She lifted her head, and the song rolled over into something emotional and Bellamy was leaning closer and he was going to kiss her again and she wanted him to and she wanted it to be real and everything was perfect and then-

“Clarke!”

She flinched, head whipping round to the entrance only to see Finn standing there. All the oxygen left the room and she wanted to throw up.

Bellamy stopped swaying. “Is that…?”

“Yep.” She felt dizzy.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” He said darkly, glaring at him.

Clarke’s fingers scrabbled for purchase on his dress shirt, trying to hold herself up. “Oh my god, Bellamy, I’m… I can’t…”

“I got you, Princess, you’re okay, breathe,” he said. They weren’t dancing anymore, frozen in place as people waltzed around them, and a few heads were starting to turn towards them. Bellamy slid his hand from her waist up her spine. “What do you want to do here? It’s your call, Princess, just remember to breathe.”

“Clarke!” Finn called out again.

“Jesus, let’s get over there before he ruins everything.” She said, and Bellamy let her lead him towards the door where Finn was still waiting. He kept within a foot as she squared up to her ex-boyfriend, who was looking distinctly less confident now that Bellamy was standing so close.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She asked icily. “We broke up, remember? You were married, so we broke up.”

“Clarke, please, I made a mistake. Me and Raven have been falling out of love for a long time, I-”

“Get out.” She said, hand shaking as she gestured at the exit. “Leave. I don’t want you here. I told you I don’t ever want to see you again.”

He stepped forward, hands outstretched, and Bellamy moved between them. Finn looked up, affronted, “Hey man, can you let me talk to my girlfriend?”

“Are you deaf? She said she doesn’t want to see you,” he growled. “So I suggest you walk out and never look back.”

Clarke hadn’t cried yet over her breakup, still processing it, but she knew she would eventually, and the longer Finn stood there and refused to budge, the closer she felt the inevitable breakdown creeping. “Please leave. I can’t deal with this right now. This is my mother’s wedding. This isn’t the time or place for this, and I don’t want you here.”

He glanced around, like he’d only just noticed where he was standing. “If I leave, do you promise to call me when you get back to New York?”

“Finn if you don’t leave in the next minute, I’m calling Raven.” It was an empty threat - how and when would Clarke have had the time to exchange numbers with her boyfriend’s wife? - but Finn didn’t have to know that. He paled.

“There a problem here?” Lincoln’s calm voice interjected, and then Octavia, Wells and Roan were all standing with him, staring Finn down.

“No. No problem.” He said, shooting one last longing look at Clarke. “Call me when you get back, okay?”

“Get the fuck out that door before I throw you out.” Bellamy snapped. Finn booked it towards the road and Clarke swallowed around the lump in her throat. She refused to cry at her mother’s wedding. Bellamy turned around, cupping her face in his hands and tilting her gaze up so he could make sure she was alright. “Princess?”

“I’m good.” She said hoarsely. “I’m, this is, I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Clarke, talk to me.” He said, an edge of panic to his voice, and it was probably understandable given the circumstances. He was the only person who’d seen her after Lexa - who’d seen what that relationship had done to her - and he was the only one who knew exactly how bad this could get if she didn’t manage to calm herself down. “Babe, please?”

“I can’t. I’m. I don’t know what to do.” She said distractedly, eyes losing focus.

“Fuck.” Bellamy looked to Wells. “I need to get her out of here.”

“Yeah, go, we’ll make excuses for you, don’t worry about it.”

“What’s going on?” Octavia asked.

“That’s Clarke’s ex - he’s an asshole and he should never have been here and Clarke’s about to have a panic attack, so I’m gonna take her home.” He said, clipped, taking the jacket and Clarke’s purse that Roan handed him.

“Since when does she get panic attacks?”

“Since-” he cut himself off, “-for a few years now. She’s fine, she just needs some air.”

“We’ll tell Abby that she wasn’t feeling well,” Lincoln suggested. “Got dehydrated or something. Go, go, we’re fine here.”

“Bellamy I’m gonna throw up.” Clarke said, her whole body shaking like she had a fever.

“Okay Princess, it’s gonna be okay, let’s get some air, yeah?”

She nodded dimly, barely registering the question. She let him lead her outside and down the lane towards the car, and when he opened the passenger-side door for her, she sat down in silence, the butterflies in her stomach making her feel like she was going to be sick at any moment. She could just see the trees passing in her peripheral vision as Bellamy drove, but didn’t feel anywhere near long enough for them to have arrived at the cabin when he pulled over. She was about to ask where they were when the door opened again and he offered her his hand. She took it.

He led her out into the snow-dusted forest and she wasn’t sure which one it was, but it didn’t matter, and then they were in a small clearing and Bellamy tugged her hand until they were both sitting on the frosty grass. She lay down and felt the cold all the way through to her bones, soaking through her pants and catching on her arms, and she took a slow, shuddering breath.

Bellamy’s fingers were carding through her hair and he was saying something to her, but she just closed her eyes and focussed on the cold.

“Why did he come here?” She asked, and her voice sounded so small to her own ears.

“Because he’s an idiot or an asshole or both.” Bellamy said sternly. “But he’s gone and he’s not coming back - because if he does I’ll kill him myself - and you’re okay. This is not another Lexa situation, you’re not in any trouble, you’re not in any immediate danger, you’re okay. I’m right here and I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Clarke remembered the last time she’d seen Lexa. Bellamy was supposed to meet her at work after her shift and she only had five minutes left and then there she was. Standing in front of the only exit. She had started freaking out immediately, but there was no-one else in the building and then Lexa had backed her into a corner and she was saying so many horrible things and Clarke was crying and then Bellamy burst through the door and Lexa ran off, leaving him to pick up the pieces. After that, he encouraged her to file a restraining order, and she hadn’t seen the woman since; but that didn’t erase the damage she did.

It had been years, but everything with Finn had brought the memories flooding back, and along with them came the familiar feeling of panic and helplessness, and she couldn’t remember how to turn them off.

“I’m a mess.” She managed through chattering teeth.

“Hey, I completely short-circuited when I saw my ex, and she’s actually a decent person,” he pointed out. “The level of mess in this relationship is a sliding scale.”

She laughed.

The hand in her hair slowed it’s movements and she could imagine his expression when he spoke. “Are you okay? Seriously, do we need to go to the ER, or do you need to call your therapist, or is there something else I can do?”

“You remembered the cold, the open spaces, the distractionary tactics: I think you’re good.”

“Clarke.”

“Seriously, I’m fine, I just… I need a minute.” She said, and she could feel him shuffling until he was lying next to her in the grass.

“Alright, Princess… whenever you’re ready.” He said, lacing their hands together to ground her to reality, or maybe just because he wanted to hold her hand.

The next morning, Clarke didn’t get out of bed. She was completely numb, cold, and she didn’t feel like moving from under the covers so there she stayed. She lay there, scrolling through her phone but not really seeing any of it, and when Bellamy poked his head into the room around lunchtime, he told her he cancelled his plans and that he was going to stay in the cabin in case she needed him, but he wasn’t going to crowd her so if she wanted anything to just yell out.

And she burst into tears.

“Fuck, Princess.” He breathed, climbing into bed next to her and scooping her into his arms. She could barely catch a breath, everything crashing down at once, and he rocked her back and forth as she cried. “I’ve got you.”

She cried herself to exhaustion, eventually drifting off while Bellamy’s thumb traced her cheekbone back and forth. Which is how she ended up waking up around dusk, still being spooned by Bellamy from the hours he spent picking up her broken pieces, and feeling more at home than she’d felt the entire time they’d been in Chicago.

He shifted behind her, nose nudging at the back of her neck. “Want something to eat?”

“No.” She rolled over and hid her face in his shirt, because despite being starving, if they wanted food he was going to get up and leave her there and she wanted to keep that moment for as long as possible.

“You should eat something.” He tried again.

“Please.” She whispered.

He sank further into the mattress, resting his chin on her head. She felt like crying again, but unconsciousness was beckoning and she didn’t have the strength to fight it.

The next time she woke it was completely pitch black and it was to Bellamy’s voice, talking to someone on the phone. “...no, I don’t think so. It’s PTSD and everyone’s different, it’s not like there’s a manual. Don’t get smart with me Wells, I’m aware there are books on- Yeah. She seems to be sleeping it off, it took a lot of energy out of her to keep it together for so long. I don’t know how she did it. It if it was me I would have broken down in the cab to the airport and not stopped until we touched down in Chicago, but I never saw her shed a single tear until this afternoon.”

He paused, listening.

“Yeah, will do. See you later.” When he hung up, he put the phone aside and shifted closer against her side.

“What time is it?” She asked, voice cracked and raw.

He picked up a lock of her hair, twisting it between his fingers. “Late.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Whatever you want, Princess.”

“Bell-”

“Not up for debate. Unless you tell me to leave, I’m not taking one step outside of this cabin without you. Your mom can wait until Christmas Day for all I care, I’m not gonna push you to do anything until you feel better.”

She rubbed her eyes, “I hate my brain.”

“Hey, that’s my best friend you’re talking about, don’t be rude,” he teased.

“You’re so lame.”

He kissed the crown of her head. “Thanks, I try.”

It took two more days for her to finally emerge from the bedroom. She shuffled out while he was making breakfast and when he saw her he cheered, accidentally flicking pancake batter on the floor as he did. “She lives!”

Clarke ignored him except to stick her tongue out petulantly, and collapsed in her usual chair, perching a sketchbook on her knees. For a few hours she was completely in the zone and Bellamy occasionally drifted by to give her food or peek at the drawings, and when she eventually put the book down, flexing the stiffness from her fingers, she felt much better. She exhaled slowly, letting her head loll back against the chair and feeling more of the tension drain from her body.

“Me too.” Bellamy said, flopping onto the couch. At her confused look, he gestured towards the sketches. “With writing; it makes the world make sense somehow. When everything’s falling apart, it keeps me centered. I wrote that first book I published after me and Gina broke up.”

“I guess I have to face my family soon, right?”

“Well, it’s Christmas in a few days, so yeah, at some point. But you don’t have to rush into it.”

“It’s been three days, I’m pretty sure this is the opposite of rushing.”

“Clarke-”

She didn’t want him to tell her that she was allowed to work at her own pace, or something else nice, because it was getting harder and harder to look at him with every sweet thing he did. “We’ve got nearly two days until your mom’s annual Christmas Eve get together, so we could spend time with Wells and Roan tonight- oh shit, what are we doing for Christmas? Are we splitting up?”

“You and me? Never.” He teased, poking her calf with his toe. “Mom gets us in the morning, Wells gets us for lunch, Abby gets us for dinner. Also Octavia’s throwing you a surprise bridal shower tomorrow.”

She sat up with a jolt. “No.”

“If you try and stop her she’ll just hogtie you.” He pointed out.

She groaned. “This was the worst idea ever.”

“If it helps, I think Roan is organising a kind of faux bachelor party for me with a bunch of my old school friends. Wells told me he invited Murphy.”

“Oh boy. Good luck with that,” she grinned. “You’re right, that did help. We should invite them round for dinner tonight.”

“Even Murphy?”

“Wells and Roan, you dick.”

“Good idea. Maybe we can convince Roan to cancel it.”

To the contrary, when Wells and Roan arrived that evening, Clarke reiterated how excellent of an idea she thought it was, and suggested a few more names of people they hadn’t seen since high school, and Bellamy kept glaring at her as he passed out the plates.

They were far too casual to sit around the table when Abby Griffin wasn’t around, so they collapsed in the living room while The Holiday played in the background. Wells and Roan sat first, basically only leaving enough space for Bellamy and Clarke to sit next to each other on the couch. She narrowed her eyes at her best friend but he just shrugged and said, “Kate Winslet is a revelation in this.”

Once their plates were empty, Clarke curled up against Bellamy while the second half of the movie played, and Wells kept making not-so-subtle facial expressions at her from across the room. She didn’t care - she wasn’t going to let his teasing stop her from enjoying the night.

Roan pulled out Jenga and Uno and their old rivalry reared its head, until they were eight rounds deep and their significant others were snarking at each other across the room in defence of their side.

“Don’t blow it.” Roan said as Clarke reached for one of the pegs. She glared at him. “I’m just saying, if you blow it, you’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Isn’t that the advice Clarke gave to Wells before your first date together?” Bellamy said, accepting the low-five she offered him.

“And I was right.” She slid the peg out without disturbing anything and winked at Roan. “We never heard the end of it.”

He picked his own peg to attempt grabbing. “What can I say, I grow on people. Like jazz.”

“Or fungus.”

“Or a fine wine.”

“Or-” She was cut off by Roan toppling the entire tower to the ground, and Bellamy whooped and flipped double birds at him in triumph, which made her laugh so hard she fell over. It was a good night.

As they were leaving, Wells stopped in the doorway. “Hey I know you’ve got this bridal shower thing tomorrow - largely because I’m also going - but we should get coffee the day after, on Christmas Eve, just the two of us. It’s been forever since we had a coffee date.”

“Deal. See you tomorrow.”

“Into the belly of the beast!” He said, voice drifting into the snow.

Clarke closed the door and leaned on it, watching Bellamy wash dishes in the kitchen. It felt too normal. She was worried that when she had to go back to her apartment in New York, she’d have to relearn how to be on her own, and she couldn’t work out why it was so easy to live with him; like they fit together.

Bellamy spent most of the day out in town, buying groceries and hanging out with his family, and Clarke had the cabin to herself, painting, until Octavia came to pick her up for “drinks” at five, and she did her level best to act surprised when they went to Aurora’s and a bridal shower was in her living room, cheering excitedly.

Abby, Aurora, Wells, Octavia, Harper and Emori from high school and even Jasper Jordan, who seemed to be hogging the aux cord, much to Abby’s chagrin and everyone else’s delight.

“I wanted to invite Riley and Monroe but he’s in Phoenix with his folks and she’s in Europe somewhere, absailing down a mountain or some shit.” Octavia said. “We’ve got most of the old gang back together though! Roan hogged the other half for Bellamy’s thing, but I assume you’re inviting Monty and Miller to the wedding anyway, so it’s not like you’re missing out on much except a bunch of guy talk.”

“And girl talk is so much better.” Jasper said, nodding sagely. He hugged Clarke, all bones and elbows, but it was nice all the same. “Missed you, Griffin. You should get back to Chicago more often.”

“Or you could come to New York sometime,” she suggested.

“And miss this view?” He swept a hand around at their friends. “Not likely.”

She smiled sappily, for once thinking that he might be right. She hugged Harper and Emori too, making sure they told her every update in their lives before anyone had a chance to turn the conversation onto her own “engagement”. She asked Harper about Jordan, and Jasper proudly told anyone who’d listen that he was named after him, and pestered Emori about her job, and they’d been talking for over an hour before Abby put her foot down.

“You’ll have plenty of time to catch up later, ladies, let’s get this bridal shower underway!” She said, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Is this your night or hers?” Emori muttered conspiratorially.

“It’s impossible to say.” Harper winked, and they returned to the couch, where everyone promptly dumped presents in Clarke’s lap.

“I can’t accept all these!” She gasped as she tried to balance them on her thighs. “We haven’t even set a date yet!”

Octavia shoved another present on top of the pile. “Just accept it, Clarke; you’re loved.”

“Never.” She said defiantly, but there were tears in her eyes and Wells hugged her over the back of the couch.

On everyone’s prompting - but mostly Jasper’s - she started unwrapping things. Abby had gotten them monogrammed towels, which they were absolutely never going to use but she politely thanked her mother, who offered a stiff hug in return. Jasper bought them a speaker and had also made a “Get Down” Spotify playlist that he added her to so that they could use it for when they wanted to be loud without annoying the neighbours. It made Abby uncomfortable but everyone else laughed and begged to hear the playlist; it turned out to be entirely the song Shake Me Like A Monkey by Dave Matthews Band on repeat, which made Emori laugh so hard she fell off the couch.

Harper had made her a quilt, Emori bought her a bottle of whiskey, Octavia gave her a voucher for Couples Skydiving, Wells bought her expensive lingerie - the bastard winked at her when she opened it - and finally Aurora slid a small box towards her. She opened it tentatively, discovering what looked like an antique locket.

“What’s this?” She asked, breathless, holding it up into the light.

“It was my grandmother’s. It’s been passed down this family from mother to daughter, but considering that when I tried to give it to Octavia, she told me it was safer with Bellamy, I think you deserve it. You’ve always been part of this family anyway.”

“Aurora I can’t accept this.” She said, shaking her head, but Mrs Blake closed her hand around the locket.

“Of course you can, sweetheart. I insist.” She said, side-hugging her. “You’re a second daughter to me-”

“Third, you’re forgetting Bellamy,” Octavia joked.

“-and there’s no-one else I can think of who deserves it more.”

Clarke sniffled, blinking back sentimental tears. Christmas was always harder for her, but this one seemed especially emotional. Aurora and Octavia both hugged her and there wasn't a dry eye between them. A collective “aww” went around the room and then Jasper turned the music all the way up so they could dance around and shake off their troubles for a while.

They were performing a classic routine to Wannabe by the Spice Girls when the front door opened and a crowd of familiar faces poured in.

“What’s all this?!” Wells asked, delighted. “Aren’t you supposed to be throwing darts and stuffing money in stripper’s panties?”

Roan shrugged, jerking his thumb at Bellamy, who was searching the room for something. “We tried, but he couldn’t bear to be apart from his fiance, started talking about how he should just “check in”. I even did my famous lap dance but he only has eyes for her, what can I say.”

Bellamy’s eyes kept darting until they landed on Clarke and before she had time to react, he strode forward, cupping her cheeks with both hands when he kissed her with everything he had.

It knocked the wind out of her, and she curled her arms around his neck just to stay standing, sinking into the kiss the way she sunk into the mattress next to him at night. She lost all sense of her surroundings, so immersed in kissing him back, in tangling her fingers in his hair, in the way his palms tightened on her cheeks when she smiled into it.

“Uh, excuse me?” Wells asked them.

“Sir, this is a Wendy’s,” Jasper added.

“Where do they get the oxygen?” Monty’s voice cut in, and that was enough to snap Clarke back to reality. She pulled away, eyes catching on Bellamy’s before she tore them away, over his shoulder.

“Monty!” She jogged into his open arms, flinging her arms around him in the biggest hug she could manage. “I’ve missed you.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Miller asked, hugging her from behind and turning it into a big sandwich.

“You definitely smell like it.” Murphy’s voice said from where he was leaning lazily against the wall.

“Leave him alone, cockroach,” Clarke said, extricating herself from the guys so she could flick his arm before he hugged her as well. She looked around at them all. “But seriously, why are you all here?”

“Bellamy was annoying the shit out of us.” He drawled. “We were trying to tease him about the fact that he’s been in love with you since we were kids and he finally worked up the courage to do something about it - by the way, blink twice if he’s holding you captive - and he just kept gushing about you. It was exhausting.”

Clarke frowned over at Bellamy, who still looked a little out of breath and was refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

Lincoln clapped him on the back. “We asked him how he proposed, and he said he wasn’t going to tell the story without you there, and we’d been drinking, so Monty suggested crashing your bridal shower and it seemed like a good idea.”

“Still does.” Monty chimed in.

Kane, who Clarke hadn’t even realised had been with them, emerged from where he’d ducked into the kitchen, carrying a tray of alcoholic hot chocolates and offered them around. “I think it’s a good time for a nightcap.”

“Let’s curl up around the fire and force the lovebirds to tell us their engagement story.” Miller suggested, sipping his cocoa and nudging Bellamy towards the couch.

“Excellent idea!” Roan grinned.

Everybody settled, leaving the middle of the sofa free for Clarke and Bellamy, who still looked a little awkward. “You okay?” She asked quietly.

“Always, Princess.”

She searched his face, knowing there was something he wasn’t saying, but refusing to push the issue while they had an audience, and he smiled at her but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. She decided to wait until they were back in the cabin to ask him about it.

“Hey, lovebirds? We’re waiting on you here,” Emori said, getting their attention.

“We all know the story of how you got together, but we want to hear the juicy engagement details.” Jasper said, and everyone murmured their assent. Aurora sat forward in her chair, eyes twinkling.

Bellamy sighed. “It’s really not as exciting as you’re building it up to be.”

“I thought it was cute,” Clarke said, bumping her shoulder against his.

“You have to say that,” he said, rubbing his neck.

“Trust me babe, if I didn’t like the way you proposed, I’d tell you.”

“She would.” Wells said, nodding in a way that only someone who’d been on the receiving end of Clarke’s disdain could. A few other people were also clearly flashing back to times when Clarke had told them she didn’t like something they did, and she had to admit that sometimes she could be harsher than she meant to.

“I was staying at his place a few weeks ago,” Clarke recited, “and we were just lying on the couch, watching movies-”

“Treasure Planet.” Bellamy interjected.

“-shut up, and the credits were rolling and he said-”

“You should move in with me.” He said, a smile on his face as if he was remembering the moment.

“And I said, 'Before we’re married? Unacceptable.' Because I’m hilarious.”

“Debatable.”

“And you, you big idiot, said?”

He ducked his head, feigning embarrassment. “So marry me then.”

The entire room was silent for almost a full second until they burst into raucous laughter. Miller and Lincoln had fallen into each other, Monty had buried his face in Harper’s hair, who was also practically crying as Emori smacked her leg, cackling. Even Abby managed a chortle behind her wine glass, and Kane was trying to be polite but the effort of not laughing was turning his face red. Octavia was sobbing, “You fucking-” she gasped for air, “-dick, I can’t believe you just blurted it out like that!”

“I can.” Wells took a long draught of his beer.

“Me too.” Lincoln said, shaking his head in amusement.

“You had a whole plan-” Octavia wiped under her eyes, “-you’ve had a whole plan, since fucking middle school, and you blurted it out. You’re the worst.”

Clarke froze. “What?”

Bellamy was equally still next to her. “Uh. Nothing.”

Octavia sobered up instantaneously. “Wait - you never told her?”

He pretended to check his watch. “Would you look at the time, we should really be getting to bed.”

“He never told you about the proposal plan?” Octavia ignored her brother completely, asking Clarke, who frowned, confused, and the woman forged ahead. “Who else knew about the plan?”

Miller, Monty, Jasper, Murphy, Emori and Harper all raised their hands. Clarke did a double take and looked to Bellamy, but he was very purposefully staring at the fireplace and pretending he couldn’t hear anything.

Octavia was still talking, like this wasn’t completely world-shattering information. “He was gonna take you on holiday to Rome or something-”

“Florence.” Bellamy corrected, looking a little green.

“-and go to one of those fancy art museums and propose to you in front of one of those big nerdy paintings you love. He told me one afternoon. We were talking about who we thought we’d end up with when we were older, and I thought he’d say, like, Rachel Weisz or something, but he just came out with this whole speech about how if you were still friends when you were older, he could see himself marrying you, and he had that whole plan, and I think I ended up saying I’d end up with John Murphy who lived down the street.”

Clarke scrunched her nose up. “Gross.”

“You’re telling me.”

“How dare you.” Murphy said sarcastically.

Clarke turned to look at Bellamy, whose ears were turning pink, and decided to tease him to relieve the tension. “So what you’re saying is, you’ve been secretly in love with me this whole time.”

Which backfired.

“Not the whole time.” He said weakly, and it took every ounce of strength she had not to let her jaw drop. He rubbed the back of his neck again, this time in earnest embarrassment. “I mean, I was in love with Gina for a while, and then I moved to New York. I figured we’d grow apart, and I dated people, and you were dating people back in Chicago, and then you moved to New York too but it was fine, and I figured it wouldn’t be a problem. Up until about two years ago.”

“What happened two years ago?” Monty asked.

Bellamy hesitated. “She got a serious girlfriend.”

Oh. He was talking about Lexa. Clarke’s gaze dropped to the floor, and she tried to think about something else, anything else, but it was all too much and she felt a lump forming in her throat. He slid his hand down her thigh to clasp her hand in her lap, keeping her grounded.

“Seriously deranged, more like.” Wells said darkly.

Abby frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Clarke sniffled. “Lexa was, she was… I was in love with her. I thought…”

“It’s okay,” Bellamy murmured, leaning closer so he could sling his other arm around her shoulders. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“No,” she said, trying to hold back the tears, “it’s fine, people were gonna find out eventually.” She tried to say something, to explain, but the words wouldn’t come out, so Bellamy turned to their friends and spoke for her.

“Lexa was abusive.” He said bluntly, and the floodgates opened. Clarke broke down, sobbing into her free palm and he swore under his breath and squeezed her hand. “Princess, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He held her closer and peppered kisses over the crown of her head and she tried to get her emotions under control.

“She was never physical.” Wells picked up the story while Bellamy continued to console her. “It was just verbal: gaslighting, emotional abuse, making Clarke’s circle of people smaller - you guys might have noticed she got a little harder to reach about two years ago? That was Lexa. When she stopped even talking to me, I got worried, and I called Bellamy and asked him to check up on her.”

“When I found her at work, she freaked out because she was scared Lexa would know.” Bellamy said. “I’ve never been so angry. I told her that I thought Lexa was toxic and we fought.”

“Biggest argument we ever had.” Clarke sniffed, wiping tears from her cheeks.

“Yeah.” His arm flexed next to her shoulder, revealing just how much tension he was trying to hold in. “So I stormed off, and… a week later, Clarke showed up at my place. She’d decided to tell Lexa she’d seen me, and Lexa told her she was a cheater, started yelling at her.”

He seemed to remember that her ex-boyfriend had just made her a cheater, barely a week earlier, and he muttered, “Fuck,” under his breath.

“It’s okay, Bellamy.” Clarke lifted her head, breathing slowly. “I told her that it wasn’t true, and she lifted her hand like she was gonna hit me. She didn’t. She just lifted her hand. But the second she did, I was done.”

“I’m so proud of you.” Kane said solemnly. “That must have been very hard.”

Abby didn’t speak, but she looked mortified.

Wells and Roan, who’d had to deal with the aftermath, both looked as furious in that moment as they had two years previously.

“So I helped her move into a new place, one Lexa didn’t have a key to.” Bellamy explained. “And while we were packing her things into boxes, I looked over at her and I just… I don’t know, something just… clicked.”

“You never told me that.” She looked up at him, blinking widely.

He only shrugged. “It never seemed like the right time; I didn’t want to drag it all up for you again. Like I did tonight, fuck, I’m so sorry.”

The guilt on his face was palpable, and she knew that he was thinking about Finn just as much as Lexa. She leaned forward to hug him, burying her face in the crook of his neck, and his arms came up around her, and Wells was right - as he always was - Bellamy’s hugs could make anything feel better.

“Anyway,” she said when she turned to face their friends, clapping her hands together, “that’s not what matters. What matters is that I found the right person. I was looking everywhere and the entire time he was right there. It only took me my whole life to realise it.”

And she realised with a jolt that she meant it. She meant those words more strongly than she’d ever meant anything.

She was in love with Bellamy.

It could be worse. 

The rest of the night had passed with so many distractions that Clarke had completely forgotten to mention Bellamy’s weird behaviour. Their friends made it their mission to keep her as busy as possible, and it got so late in all the fun they were having that Aurora pulled out the old sleeping bags and everyone hunkered down in the living room, just like they used to.

Except that this time, Bellamy dragged her sleeping bag right next to his and she lay across his chest, fingers tracing patterns on his shirt as they lay awake amongst their sleeping friends.

“If I ever actually get engaged at least I’ll know how to act, right?” She hummed tiredly.

“Do you want to?” He asked.

“Get engaged? Are you asking?” She teased.

“Maybe.”

“I think you should probably ask me out first.” She said, but he didn’t laugh. He sat up on his elbows, jostling her, and she pushed herself up so she could lean over him, meeting his eyes in the dark. He licked his lips nervously and she tilted closer. “Is that what you’re doing?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“What’s going on, Bellamy? You’ve been acting weird all night. Why did you come over? Why did you kiss me?” She muttered, trying not to wake anyone.

“Because,” his gaze darted to her lips, “I was talking about you and I realised that I couldn’t remember clearly enough what it felt like to kiss you. And then I realised that I didn’t remember what it felt like to kiss Gina, and I didn’t care anymore. Years of feeling awful about our breakup and wondering what it would be like to get back together with her, and the moment I kissed you it just wiped it all away. And I was drinking and thinking about the fact that I hadn’t kissed you properly, not really, and suddenly it was all I wanted to do. I needed to remember yours. It was important, for some reason.”

Her mouth went dry.

He attempted a shrug. “It made sense at the time.”

“Why did you need to remember it?” She asked, edging closer.

“In case it was my last chance.” He admitted.

“I don’t know, I think you might have a few more chances.” She whispered.

He swallowed again, the deep brown in his eyes barely visible in the light and yet somehow she could see every bit of emotion in them. His voice was shaky when he asked, “Really?”

She closed the gap between them, lips meeting his, and he surged upwards, kissing her back like she was oxygen and he’d been holding his breath. His teeth caught her bottom lip and her heart skipped a beat and she fisted his shirt in her hand and tried to drag him closer.

They only broke apart when she nudged Emori with her leg trying to get out of her sleeping bag, jolting the woman awake. She grabbed a pillow and whacked them with it. “You fuckers, it’s 2am, stop being in love and go to fucking sleep.” She hissed, batting them once more for emphasis.

Clarke dropped her head against Bellamy’s shoulder, laughing breathlessly. “Sorry Mori.”

“Sorry.” Bellamy parroted, sounding completely unrepentant.

They lay back down and he practically draped her on top of him, sleeping bags rustling as they got comfortable and she pressed gentle kisses wherever she could reach. For a long time, she listened to his heartbeat and felt the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, and she couldn’t believe her luck.

She thought he’d fallen asleep when he murmured, “Was that a yes?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to go out with me?”

She smiled into his shirt. “You’re such an idiot. Of course I’ll date you.”

“I never said anything about dating.” He deadpanned.

“We’re moving into yours - your apartment is way better than mine.” She said sleepily.

He snorted. “You're a menace.”

She wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, but she was completely and utterly content. So when Clarke woke up the next morning with a crick in her neck and her toes sticking out of the hole at the end of her sleeping bag, she smiled towards the ceiling. She’d forgotten what it felt like to have this place feel like home. When she ran away to New York, she started to conflate her entire experience living with her mother after Jake’s death as being representative of the whole place. Sometimes she needed a reminder that the rest of her life here had been good.

She shuffled into the kitchen - the first person awake, as always - to start making breakfast, and she’d barely had time to boil the water before her mother appeared. She didn’t say anything, just picked up some pots and pans and helped her make pancakes and fry up eggs and bacon.

They began to hear stirrings from the living room and before someone could walk in, Abby paused with the spatula hovering in the air over the frying pan. “You know I love you, don’t you?”

Clarke smiled sadly. “Yeah I know.”

“You can tell me things.”

“Mom-”

“I thought that all it was… I thought it was just Bellamy that you didn’t tell me about. But you were in this toxic relationship and then your next boyfriend was a cheater and you never told me any of it. I know how I come across. I know you don’t think I do, but I am aware that there are things you don’t talk to me about, and that’s fine. Aurora has always been the more understanding of us, but if you’re struggling I wish you’d tell me, sweetheart.” Abby said.

Clarke took the spatula out of her hand and flipped the now burnt pancake into the bin. “Okay, Mom.”

Jasper walked in with his eyes still closed. “Do I smell bacon?”

“Yes, and you can plate it up,” Clarke said, handing him a stack of plates. “Just don’t eat it all.”

“No promises, short stack.”

“Hey, Princess!” Bellamy called out from the living room.

“What?” She yelled back, busy flipping pancakes.

“Get in here!”

“I’m cooking!”

“Let Jasper do it!”

“Cook?! Are you crazy? I barely trust him to plate it up!”

“Jesus Christ,” she heard him say under his breath, and then he was shouting out to her again, “Clarke just come in here.”

“You’re so high maintenance.” She complained, turning off the heat.

“But you love me anyway.” He reminded her.

“I guess,” she said, rounding the corner into the living room. Where Bellamy was on one knee, surrounded by their friends and family. If she’d been holding anything, it would have shattered on the floor. She clapped her hands over her mouth.

“Clarke Griffin-”

“Bellamy what are you doing?”

“-Clarke Griffin, I loved you when we were kids, I’ve been in love with you as an adult, and I’ve wanted to marry you since I knew what weddings were-”

“Bellamy, what the fuck are you doing?” She mumbled, happy tears rolling down her cheeks.

“-I’m trying to propose, Princess.” He said, exasperated.

“Yes.”

A slow smile spread over his face. “Are you gonna let me finish this speech I have prepared, or?”

“Yes.” She stepped closer and he pulled out a ring box, opening it. It was Aurora’s, she recognised it immediately, and she wondered when he’d asked her for it.

“You're a menace. I know I basically already asked. But I didn’t have a ring, and this way, we get to make it official,” he said, and the hidden meaning behind his words made her shake her head at their ridiculousness. “In front of an entire room of witness, which isn’t how I would have chosen to do it-”

“We know.”  Miller and Harper said in unison.

“We been knew.” Jasper said. Lincoln jerked his head in agreement and Octavia tried to hide her laughter in his arm and failed miserably.

“Let the man speak!” Emori decreed, gesturing for Bellamy to continue.

Clarke let out a watery laugh at how perfectly them this was.

Bellamy rolled his eyes, but joy was radiating out of him as he reached for her hand. “You’re the love of my life, Clarke Griffin. Platonic, romantic, and everything in between. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life waking up next to you.”

“I’m such a mess, are you sure you can handle it, pretty boy?” She asked, only half joking.

“There’s nothing I’d rather do. Do you think you could see yourself spending the rest of your life being a mess with me?”

“Yes.”

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

She leapt at him and they fell back onto the wooden floor as she smothered his face in kisses and their friends and family cheered and popped party poppers at them - although where the hell they’d gotten them from she had no idea; she suspected Octavia, but she didn’t much care. There were streamers in her hair and Bellamy’s lips on hers and it was Christmas Eve. Christmas Day could just take the year off; no present could ever match up to the one she was holding, the one who was holding her. He slid the ring on her finger and Jasper turned the “Get Down” playlist on and everybody laughed in amongst all their congratulations as they made their way to the table for breakfast.

Aurora hugged her the longest.

Octavia hugged her the hardest.

Monty and Miller sandwiched her again, but dragged Murphy into it as well.

Lincoln hugged Bellamy, Kane clapped him on the shoulder, Abby told him she would be proud to have him as a son-in-law, and Emori stole the last of Jasper’s bacon when he wasn’t looking.

Harper changed the playlist to something more reasonable and everyone settled down, chatting and eating and teasing each other.

A slow song came on, one of the ones they’d been dancing to at her mom’s wedding, and Clarke looked to the man sitting next to her. “You’re an idiot.”

“You’re marrying me.” He pointed out.

“It’s not my fault, I love you.”

“Right back at you.” He kissed her sweetly. “Merry Christmas, Princess.”

She smiled against his lips.

“What?” He asked.

She smirked, looking up at him from under her lashes. “I can’t wait to invite Cousin Josephine to our wedding.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” he said, kissing her again. “This is a time of good cheer and you’re ruining it.”

“We’ve got plenty of Christmases to look forward to,” she pointed out.

“But this one’s different.” He said, bumping his forehead against hers, and he was right. This was the best Christmas she’d ever had, and it was barely Christmas Eve. The beginning of the trip felt like years ago, and she realised that despite the fact that they’d been faking an engagement for over a week, it had never once felt like a ruse. It always felt exactly right.

Wells was absolutely going to tell her that he told her so, she could see it in his face.

“Cheers to the happy couple.” Kane said, lifting his coffee in the air.

“To the soulmates,” Octavia agreed, tapping her mug aggressively against his. “Your love is nauseating but we put up with you anyway.”

“And you’ll be dealing with it for years to come,” Clarke tipped her drink at them in acknowledgement.

“Does that mean you’ll be coming home more often?” Aurora said hopefully.

Clarke looked around the table at all the expectant faces, ending up, as always, staring into Bellamy’s eyes. He smiled, and those crinkles in his eyes appeared, the ones that matched his mother. This was Clarke’s family - every person at the table - and she adored them all.

She turned back to them and leaned into Bellamy’s side, enjoying the way he instinctively wrapped his arm around her. “You won’t be able to get rid of us.”

You got kind eyes for a control freak
So much attitude without knowing
And all I want to do is dive into you
From the moment I met you
Wait for a slow song
Wait for a slow song to come on
It might make you whisper
And I'll have to move closer to hear you
Slow Song - Amy Shark