Chapter Text
A coffee cup rests on the table in front of her and she’s acutely aware of Bellamy’s boot pressed up against the side of her cute gold gladiator sandal.
“So, did you like the Dubstep?”
Bellamy’s eyes are twinkling over his coffee cup and she rolls her own. “Yeah, it was fine.”
“Just fine?” he scoffs. “I was going to admit that I actually quite liked Britney but now…”
Clarke giggles, a stupidly girlish sound that she immediately wishes she could take back. She’s twenty one years old, not thirteen nervous to talk to her first crush.
“Britney’s awesome,” she says, picking at her orange cranberry muffin. “And the Dubstep wasn’t so bad.”
Bellamy doesn’t respond, just winks and takes another sip from his latte.
“Tell me about yourself,” he says and she blanches. She’s not used to a forward man like Bellamy, someone that asks her for coffee or about her life with no prompting. It’s refreshing albeit a little scary.
“Well,” she blows out a breath. “I’m twenty one, recently single. I work at McMillan’s on Fourth as a waitress and sometimes bartender. No siblings, parents are still married. I think that’s about it.”
“That’s about it?”
She shrugs. “Yeah, why?”
Bellamy laughs and nudges her foot with his boot. “Because I asked about you, not your stats. All I know about you is that you listen to Britney Spears while you jog and have a knack for shit breaking down in your house.”
Clarke blushes, tries not to think of the few times she’s seen Bellamy over the past few weeks. First her ice maker, then the call about her dryer. But after that she accidentally snapped off her shower head (which he made fun of her for profusely), dropped a knife down her garbage disposal and somehow managed to lock Raven and Jaspers’ cat in her bathroom when she was pet sitting.
Yeah, needless to say she's looked like a fucking idiot about 90% of the time she’s been around Bellamy Blake.
“You know,” he says with a smirk. “I was starting to think maybe you were breaking things just to get me to come over.”
She’s blushing, god damn it. She can feel the heat hitting her cheeks. “That’s insane,” she says. “What would make you think that?”
Bellamy shrugs. “Maybe the fact that I heard your friend tell you to do it.”
Clarke chokes on her Americano. “Oh my god. You heard that? That is so fucking embarrassing.”
She doesn’t miss the delighted little flare in his eyes at her swearing. “It’s not, actually. It’s cute. Not that it’s what you’re doing…”
“It’s not,” she promises and she’s being totally honest. “I’ve just never lived on my own before, it’s a little daunting.”
Bellamy nods, looks down at his cup when he asks his next question. “Does that have to do with the recently single stat?”
“It does,” she confirms sadly. “My ex Finn…he cheated on me. Found out after five years of dating. We were almost engaged.”
“Jesus.”
When she looks up at him he almost appears to be mad, his dark brows furrowed. “I know, what an idiot I am, right? Five years and living together and I couldn’t even see the signs.”
“That’s not what I was thinking at all,” he says quietly. “I’m just wondering what kind of fucking moron would cheat on you.”
Now she’s definitely blushing. “That’s sweet of you to say,” she says “But this is far too serious of a conversation for eight in the morning. Tell me something about you.”
Bellamy grins at her obvious change of topic and leans back in his chair. “Well,” he says, blowing out an exaggerated breath, to make fun of her no less. “I’m twenty six, single but for awhile. It’s not recent or anything.”
She snorts. “You don’t have to tease me.”
He holds his hands up in mock defense. “I’m not! I’m just giving you the rundown. Now where was I? Oh yeah, single. I work at the apartment complex, obviously, but I also volunteer at a library downtown a few nights a week. I have one sister, Octavia, she’s a little younger than you and a fucking brat, and a single mom that I adore.”
God, that’s sweet. “Is that all?” she teases and he shakes his head with a laugh.
“Not even close,” he cracks his knuckles dramatically across the table and she rolls her eyes. “I like to work out, but not in that gym rat way. I prefer jogging or MMA classes with my best friend Miller. Who’s gay and awesome, so I don’t know if having a gay best friend gets me any cool points but I thought I’d throw that out there. I like to knit, don’t laugh my Grandma taught me, and I have a serious obsession with WW2 documentaries on Netflix.”
Clarke is just staring at him, her face threatening to break apart with a smile. He’s unlike anyone she’s ever met, not just because of the things that he likes but because he’s so open and honest. Needless to say she’s not used to people being open and honest with her lately.
“So what you’re telling me is that you and your best friend, who happens to be gay, like to beat people up for fun and then you go home to knit a scarf while watching World War II in Color?”
Bellamy beams. “You’ve heard of that one?”
“My friend Jasper forced me to watch it one night,” she laments. “Hella depressing.”
Bellamy laughs so hard she thinks he might fall out of his chair. “Yeah, well it wasn’t a bundle of laughs, I’ll admit. But it was interesting as hell. I’m kind of a history buff.”
“Sure you don’t mean nerd, not buff?” Her eyes drag down his body then, land on his arms and she smirks. “I guess buff isn’t that far off.”
The comment surprises them both but she shrugs when he raises an eyebrow. Her heart speeds up when he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and leans across the table.
“I like you, Clarke Griffin.”
She smiles and leans forward too.
“I like you too, Bellamy Blake.”
***
It becomes a routine, jogging together at seven every morning and then coffee afterwards.
One morning she mentions how stupid it is that they eat and drink the calories that they just worked but Bellamy just shrugs, winks at her and tells her he likes the atmosphere.
They talk about everything, from her coming out as bisexual to her friends and family in high school to him wanting to be an archeologist before he realized they made shit for money. Conversation is light and breezy, never overly sexual or flirting, and she likes that they are getting to know each other as friends before anything else.
One night in late June that changes.
She’s cleaning up her house after a little get together, one that Bellamy was invited to but because of reasons unknown didn’t show up at. He called at least, said he had some ‘shit to take care of’ and that he’d make it up to her.
Whatever, she thinks in annoyance as she scrubs at a dish. She’s had a beer or four and she’s just this side of drunk. I’m not his girlfriend. He can do what he wants.
But sometimes she feels like they are more than just friends. Like when he brings over a bag of popcorn and a six pack of Stella and they watch reruns of The Walking Dead on Hulu cuddled up on her couch. Her feet are usually in his lap while he nurses a beer because he isn’t a big fan of drinking in excess, his thumb sometimes brushing against her ankle when he holds the bottle between two fingers and lets it dangle over her legs.
They have met each other’s friends and spend a lot of time hanging out, either at her place or his. She’s ridden in his truck, bare feet up on the dash as they drove through town with the windows down, old school country music playing softly in the background. He’s met her parents, she’s met his mom and sister. They have everything that a relationship does except the title and the physical stuff.
And damn, she wants the physical stuff more than she wants to take her next breath.
It’s nearing ten when she hears the familiar rumbling of Bellamy’s truck passing her apartment. He lives three buildings down and she knows that what she’s about to do it childish and stupid but she doesn’t care. He wasn’t here tonight and she wanted him to be.
Forgive her if she has to force his hand a little.
She pulls open her silverware drawer a little harder than she needs too and she grabs a fork, twirling it around in her finger like a baton before dropping it into the sink.
“Oops,” she says a little deviously as she flips on the garbage disposal. The wretched sound of metal grinding hits her ears and she grins. “Whatever will I do?”
She pulls her phone out of her back pocket and thumbs in a text.
I need a handyman.
A beat. Of course you do. On my way.
It’s way past office hours. Bellamy doesn’t have to come but she knew that he would. She flips the garbage disposal back off, knows damn well she could just reach her hand in there to pull it out but where’s the fun in that?
A knock at her door and then its opening, Bellamy’s boots hitting the small linoleum landing as he lets himself in.
“Clarke?”
“Kitchen!”
He’s dressed up, well as dressed up as he gets, and her heart clenches when she thinks that maybe he was out on a date. He’s wearing dark jeans, a new pair of black boots and a navy button up over a black t shirt. His hair is combed and his reading glasses are still resting on his nose.
“What’s up?” He asks as he slides by her and she can smell the expensive cologne he only wears when he goes out.
“You look nice,” she says and he gives her a sideways look.
“Thanks. Now, what did you break this time?”
She sighs and points to the sink. “Garbage disposal again,” she says, as if she wasn’t the one who broke it.
Bellamy rolls up his sleeves and looks down into the drain. “There’s a fork in here,” he says, his voice laced with amusement. “Clarke…did you do this on purpose?”
She nods her head yes. “No.”
He grins and pushes away from the sink, moves so he’s boxing her in with both hands resting on the counter behind her. It’s the closest they have ever been face to face, except for the few rare hugs they are shared over the last few months.
“Why would you do that,” he murmurs, his lips so close to hers that she can taste his breath.
“You didn’t come tonight.” It comes out sadder than she meant it to and he frowns down at her.
“I’m sorry. I told you I had shit to do. I would have much rather had been here.”
She tugs at her bottom lip with her teeth, not wanting to ask the question on her mind but it leaves her lips anyway.
“Did you have a date?”
The look on his face is almost comical. “A date? What? No, I was with my mom and sister. You and I are…”
Her breath catches. “You and I are what, Bellamy?”
Fire races up her arm when he slides his hand from her wrist to her shoulder before settling on the side of her neck.
“We’re…getting to know each other. I figured that you wanted to take things slow, after everything that you went through with your ex.”
“Honestly,” she says, leaning up so she’s closer to his face. “I’m done with slow.”
That’s all it takes, one little go ahead and he’s crushing his lips to hers, sending shock waves through her as he lifts her up and sets her on the counter.
“You have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he says when he pulls away, his lips never leaving her skin. He kisses across her cheeks, down over her collarbone and back up until he’s tugging her bottom lip between his teeth.
“You should have,” she says breathlessly.
“I was trying to be a gentleman.”
She wraps her legs around his waist and he picks her up effortlessly. “Well stop trying,” she tells him as he walks them backwards towards her bedroom.
Bellamy’s grin is wolfish when he tosses her down unceremoniously on her bed.
“At least for tonight,” he rasps out, reaching behind him to pull his shirt off.
***
Her doorbell rings at eleven the night before Christmas Eve and she rolls her eyes.
“Bell, just come inside!”
A shuffle, then a beat and then another knock. “I can’t open the door. My hands are full!”
Clarke narrows her eyes, wondering not only what he’s doing here in the middle of the night but what he could possibly have in his arms that makes him unable to open the door.
“Better be my Christmas presents,” she mumbles as she pulls open the front door and before she can react there is a black and white puppy squirming around in Bellamy’s arms trying to get to her. “What the fu…”
Bellamy covers the dog’s ears. “Not in front of the baby,” he says seriously before flashing her a grin and stepping inside.
“Bellamy, what’s going on? Who’s this?”
“This,” he says, holding the tiny Dalmatian out to her, “is your Christmas present. It’s a girl, pick out a cool name.”
“A puppy?” The squirming little thing is now desperately trying to get on the ground so she sets it, no her down, and turns towards her smiling boyfriend. “You got me a puppy?”
“I got you a Dalmatian puppy,” he says in a proud voice, like this is something she should have expected.
“Is that supposed to mean something?” She asks and he frowns a little, cocks his head at the exact same time the dog does and she can’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, am I being an asshole? She’s really cute, Bell. Thank you.”
“Don’t you remember a few weeks ago? We were watching that movie, with that stupid guy you like…?”
“Ryan Gosling.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. And him and his girlfriend had that Dalmatian and you were like ‘Oh Bellamy, one day that’ll be us. A happy little family.’”
Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes. “I have definitely never sounded like that but sure, I remember that now. Bellamy,” her eyes turn soft now and she reaches for him. “That’s so sweet. Thank you. But you know you’re going to have to help me take care of her right?”
Bellamy smiles shyly, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little box. “That actually leads me to another part of my present.” He rests the little box in her hand and she gasps.
“Is this…?”
He laughs. “No, it’s not an engagement ring. Jesus, Clarke. I haven’t even known you a year. No, silly girl. Open it.”
She bites her lip as she takes off the tiny red ribbon, opens the white box to see a key nestled inside. “Is this your house key?”
Bellamy nods. “Move in with me. It makes more sense, you’re at my place all the time anyways and hey, free rent for both of us, right? Plus you’re always breaking shit and now I won’t have to walk a hundred feet to fix it...”
Clarke grins, tears prickling her eyes. “You don’t have to use free rent and handyman services to get me to move in with you. I’d love to.”
His eyes are twinkling when he looks at her. “Yeah?” She nods and he pulls her to him, wraps his long arms around her waist and kisses her head. “Good, because little Drusilla needs her mommy and daddy.”
Clarke snorts. “We’re not naming that dog Drusilla.”
“Spike?”
“Bellamy…”
“Fine, Buffy?”
Clarke laughs, pulls him down by the collar to brush a kiss across his lips. “We never should have binge watched all seven seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”
He kisses her nose. “Agree to disagree,” he says and then he chases after the puppy, who’s currently running in circles around the living room floor. “Come here, Willow. That’s a good girl.”
Clarke shakes her head and laughs and drops down on the floor with them.
“Willow isn’t so bad,” she tells him with a smile and at the name the dog runs to her and licks her right across the face.
Bellamy laughs, pulls her so she’s lying in front of him, and they kiss lazily while Willow tugs at the bottom of her sweatshirt.
All and all, it’s a pretty good life.