Chapter Text
The first time Bellamy met Clarke Griffin, she was eighteen and he was twenty-three and he was helping her and Octavia move into their freshman dorm, so of course he didn't have a thing for her. It would have been creepy. And she and O had just met, so it still wasn't totally clear if they were even going to be friends, so it would have been a bad idea to get attached. But it was impossible not to notice that she was pretty and had awesome breasts, so he still felt like kind of a creep.
He didn't see her that often when she was in college, although she usually stayed with them for Thanksgiving, and she and Octavia were best friends, in addition to being roommates, so of course he'd see her sometimes. But her freshman year, she was his sister's roommate and therefore off limits, and then she was a sophomore in college or a junior in college, and therefore too young for him, and then she was a senior and probably moving away after graduation, so what was the point? He wasn't hurting for female companionship, anyway. She was just his sister's cute friend. Octavia had plenty of cute friends. It's not a big deal.
A few weeks before graduation, he and Octavia are grabbing lunch and talking about her future, and she says, "I could just move in with Clarke, but she's already got a place lined up with her friend from high school, like an asshole," so suddenly, it becomes, if not a big deal, then at least a deal.
"Yeah, how dare she," he says, and takes a casual sip of water. "She's sticking around?"
Octavia rolls her eyes. "Your crush on her is not at all subtle, you know that, right?"
"Subtle crushes are the worst," he says. "If no one knows I'm into someone, they don't tell me shit about them. So it must have been subtle, or you would have told me about Clarke sooner."
Octavia squints at him, and he remains placid. He's found the best way to take attention off his feelings is to just act like it's not a big deal. Denial always comes off as protesting too much, so he goes for cool and composed and whoever was making fun of him ends up second-guessing the whole thing.
He has a system.
"She's got a job doing graphic design for some giant corporation," Octavia says. "And she likes it here. So, yeah, she's sticking around."
"Cool," he says. "Keep me posted."
*
It's different, actually regularly interacting with Clarke. They see each other at least twice a week now, and she's twenty-two, out of college, gorgeous, funny, and smart. He falls for her uncontrollably, because he'd barely been holding back before this, and now he has absolutely no reason good enough to not be into her.
He also has no idea how to make a move. They're in an awkward place where they haven't really been friends for four years, but they've been friendly, and if there's a trick to upgrading casual friendships into relationships, he's never learned it. So instead he just hangs out, flirts with her a little, and figures he'll come up with a plan eventually.
Instead, they move in together.
It starts out pretty innocently; they're hanging out in the bar for Clarke's friend Wells' birthday, and she slumps down on the stool next to him.
"Get shot down?" he asks. She's not generally much for bar hookups, but he did see her checking out a hot redhead earlier, so maybe she gave it a try.
"I wish." She sighs and signals Miller for another drink. "Wells is moving in with Raven. Which, you know. That's awesome for them! But it means I need to find a new apartment."
"Don't you have like four other roommates?" he asks, frowning.
"Yeah, but--" Miller slides her drink to her, and she stabs at her ice with the straw. "I don't really know them, even after a year, and it's not--I can relax around Wells, but not the rest of them. They're nice, but I have to be on around them, and they're not my friends, so once Wells is gone--"
"I get it," he says, smiling. "I've got the same problem with my place, honestly. Mbege and Murphy are fine, but I spent most of my time hiding in my room."
"Yeah, Murphy isn't fine," Clarke says, making Bellamy grin. She hates his roommate, and it's hilarious.
"He could be worse. But, yeah, okay, they suck to live with. I should probably find a new place myself, honestly."
"When's your lease up?"
"September first."
"Oh, awesome, me too. That would work out really well, actually, your school is pretty close to my job, and you'd probably be a good roommate."
He hadn't mean it as a suggestion, but--she would be a great roommate. So he just manages, "You want to?"
"Yeah," she says. "If we can find somewhere good."
He finishes his drink and tries not to look as freaked out as he feels. It's not even bad. It sounds perfect, honestly. But it's also the worst idea he's ever heard. "If we can find somewhere good," he agrees.
*
He doesn't tell Octavia until they've already picked out a place, and he figures Clarke must not have either, because he definitely would have gotten a talking to.
"I'm moving out of my place," he says. "I'm telling you this because I'm modeling good behavior. I don't like my roommates, so I'm moving out. That's what adults do."
"My apartment is amazing, and I'm going to be the one to keep it," says Octavia. "Where are you moving? Do you have a new place yet?"
He takes a deliberate drink of his water and instantly regrets it, because it's such a fucking tell, and Octavia knows it. "Yeah, Clarke found something."
The pause is long enough Bellamy nearly says something else, but Octavia says, "You're moving in with Clarke," flat, before he's come up with a follow-up of his own.
"I like Clarke," he says. "Wells is moving in with Raven, so she was looking for a new roommate. Seemed like a good idea."
"Most people," Octavia says. "Most people just ask girls out. Before they move in with them."
"I'm getting the feeling you disapprove," he says, drumming his fingers on the table. "My way's more efficient. Why bother with the whole dating thing when you can just move in with someone and skip all the boring making out and sex and get straight to arguing over whose turn it is to do the dishes?"
"You're making it sound like that's a joke, but you totally have pathetic fantasies about being being domestic with Clarke. Like, I'm sure you want to hook up with her too, but don't pretend you don't want to bicker about what you guys are going to watch on TV tonight or when you're going to go grocery shopping. That's totally a kink for you."
"As always, my favorite thing about these conversations is that you know all my lines, so I don't have to be here." He almost asks if she really thinks Clarke would go for it, really dating him, but it feels way too middle school, for one thing, and also gossiping with his sister is actually his idea of torture. Octavia gossips at him; he doesn't gossip back.
She regards him for a minute, and he takes another drink of water. Finally, she sinks back in her chair with a huff and says, "So, when do you move?"
"September first."
"Am I gonna be in your side of the wedding party or hers?"
"I figured you'd just jog back and forth from side to side in front of the altar. Joint custody."
She rolls her eyes. "You're hopeless, Bell."
"I know."
*
They move in on the first, except it's a Tuesday, and also the first day of school for Bellamy, so Clarke takes a half day and moves her stuff, and then picks him up when he's done so they can throw all his belongings into the truck, unload them as quickly possible with Miller and Octavia's help, and then collapse on their couch, which they just sort of dropped in the middle of the living room. It's going to be a nice place, once they're moved in. Right now it's just boxes and sadness. He hates the first day of school.
"I really want eggrolls," Clarke says. "How do you feel about eggrolls?"
"Pretty neutral, but I could go for sweet and sour chicken. You know anywhere good?"
"I like Wok On," she says. "Mostly because I still find wok-related puns in Chinese restaurant names hilarious."
He has to smile. "I like Wok On too. Do you have the number?"
"Yup, but I'm touching my nose, so that means you have to call."
He laughs. "I didn't agree to that."
"The rules of last-one-to-touch-your-nose are very strict, Bellamy," she says, leaning her head against his shoulder, so casual and friendly it makes his heart stutter. "Without rules, society will descend into chaos."
"That checks out. Give me your phone."
They don't have internet hooked up yet, but Clarke has some weird Cartoon Network series downloaded to her iPad, and they set that up on one of her moving boxes, watch that with their shoulders brushing together as they eat takeout. He ends up falling asleep on her, rouses only when she shakes his shoulder.
"We did get your bed set up. You don't have to sleep on the couch," she tells him, and her eyes look so fond. He nearly tells her she should come with him, but he manages to quash the urge.
"It's way nicer than my old couch," he says, but he makes himself move away from her, stands and yawns. "But you're right, I've got school tomorrow. You good? We don't need to do any other housekeeping stuff for the first night?"
"No, I'm set." She looks down at her lap. "I'm really glad you wanted to move in with me," she says, soft, almost like it's a secret.
"Yeah. Me too."
Her face brightens with a smile, and he realizes for the first time that this girl might actually break his heart. It's never happened before. He didn't know the warning signs. "Night, Bellamy."
It's too late to do anything but smile back. "See you tomorrow, Clarke."
*
The thing is, Bellamy is domestic. He's domestic in a way he thinks guys aren't supposed to be, honestly; he's heard all these stupid stereotypes about how men are supposed to just be interested in sex, and he loves sex, obviously, but he's also always been a caretaker, for as long as he can remember, responsible for taking care of his house and his sister while his mom worked. He likes having people around, likes shopping lists and figuring out cleaning schedules and having nights at home, relaxed and easy. Like Clarke, he tends towards introversion, and he loves how comfortable he is with her, how he never feels like he has to impress her, even as he wants to impress her. She likes him, quiet, sarcastic him, the one who doesn't try to be charming and flirty and arrogant.
She's his favorite person to hang out with, basically, and it would be scary if it wasn't so great.
He's the one to suggest they could maybe start letting their friends come over, once Miller asks, in a pointed way, if he and Clarke ever come up for air. On the one hand, Bellamy knows he's just asking because he probably doesn't see Monty as much as he wants to without Bellamy and Clarke helping organize across their two groups, but just because he's living with his crush doesn't mean he should totally abandon Miller. He's sort of a decent wingman, when he tries.
But neither he nor Clarke is really prepared for the onslaught of guests.
Octavia organizes a house-warming party. Monty and Miller set up a weekly game night. Wells and Raven aren't allowed to cook meat in their weird hippie commune, so they bring steak over and cook it for Clarke and Bellamy instead. It's all really nice, and well-meaning, and fun, and Bellamy feels like an asshole for being exhausted by two non-stop weeks of spending time with friends until Clarke says, "Oh, thank god, Wells isn't coming over," on Sunday, with so much relief that there's no doubt she's just as tired of hosting people as he is.
He'd been on his way to hide in his room--Wells is Clarke's friend, not his, so he could reasonably bail on that one--but detours to flop down on the couch next to her instead. "Jesus fucking Christ, it's like having a bunch of really needy dogs." She laughs, and he lets his head drop onto her shoulder. "I really don't want to do anything tonight. How do you feel about history documentaries?" He's never bothered to get a Netflix account of his own, but hers is full of cool shit he's never seen; he's been waiting for a chance to check it out.
"That sounds like something I can fall asleep watching. In a good way," she adds, when he sort of half-glares at her.
"Philistine. This is Ken Burns, okay? Civil War. It's gonna be awesome. He's a master, Clarke."
She pats his shoulder, absent. "Uh huh. I'm just saying, I'm not, like, a total introvert? But I need a lot more me-time than I've been getting."
He sits up, feeling guilty. He knows exactly what she means, and it was stupid of him to assume that just because he likes being around her even when he's done with everyone else, she feels the same. She probably just wants to chill out and do her own thing for the first time in two weeks. "Do you want me to go watch in my room?" he asks. "I can do it on the laptop if you want to be alone. I get that."
He's on the verge of saying something more, backtracking even harder, but she says, "No, you're fine, you don't count," in a voice so fond and easy that it makes his heart flip. He's glad she immediately keeps talking, because otherwise he'd probably say something really, really ill-advised, like--well, he doesn't even know. But hearing she wants to be with him even when she wants to be alone is basically the high-point of his year.
She curls up around him, sleep, warm, and so close, and he gets the documentary started and it's just--he loves their friends. He does. But this is so fucking perfect.
*
He's not sure what to do with the rest of the group's insistence that he and Clarke are dating. It feels like the kind of thing he should be able to leverage into the two of them actually dating, but he doesn't really know how. And the more time he spends with her, the scarier it gets, telling her and risking this awesome thing he's got going with his beautiful roommate who likes snuggling and watching dorky shit on Netflix. So he just figured he'll stick with his usual nonchalance and eventually figure out how to ask if she wants to make out.
"We're getting this," she informs him. It's Sunday, which is basically their day; they run errands and go grocery shopping and watch Netflix in the evening. It's his favorite.
He raises his eyebrows at the can of whipped cream. "I'm not sure why you're telling me. It just goes in the cart. I'm not going to stop you putting it in the cart."
"We also need something to put it on," she says. "I'm open to suggestions. Pie? Cookies? One of those pies that's also a cookie?"
"Just squirt it directly into your mouth. Cut out the middle man."
"If we do that, we have to get two. So we can have a fight."
He laughs. "I could be old and dignified."
"Old, definitely. Dignified, nope. We're Facebook friends. I have seen all your humiliating college pictures."
"You wish. There are so many more of those that aren't on Facebook. Go get another can."
She grins and goes back where she came from, and he definitely doesn't stare at her. He's not in love with her, and his life is not totally pathetic.
A voice saying "Mr. Blake?" startles him from his not-staring, and he sees Andi and George from his AP class. They're both involved in the cross-country team, and judging from their cart they're buying supplies for some event.
He resists the urge to look down to make sure he's wearing something non-embarrassing--he knows what he's wearing, it's definitely jeans and a Batman t-shirt--and offers them a smile instead. He thought running into teachers out of school was weird when he was a student; it turns out it's even worse from the other side.
"Hey, guys. Supply run?"
"We've got our first race on Saturday, this is for the spaghetti dinner on Friday," George explains.
"I'm impressed by your foresight," he says. "Good to--"
Of course, that's when Clarke comes back. "I got three more," she says, dropping the cans into the cart. "What's the point of a whipped cream fight if you're not dual-wielding?" She seems to notice the students, and even puts together who they are, but that mostly just means she shuts up, not that she offers any help with the situation.
"Whipped cream fight is definitely code for a legitimate adult activity," he says, and nearly kicks himself, because that just sounds like he means sex.
"It's the way we make it through balancing the apartment books," Clarke says, which is kind of a decent save. Obviously, his students are still definitely going to think she's his girlfriend, but they can join the fucking club. "Many things about being an adult are terrible."
"Don't scare the students," he says. "Guys, this is my roommate, Clarke. Clarke, Andi and George from my AP class."
"Hi. Mr. Blake is definitely a dignified adult who's not going to go home and spray whipped cream at me."
"You're not helping at all," he tells her. "Go get meat or something. Something with nutritional value."
"Sure thing, Mr. Blake," she says, cheerful, and takes off again.
He turns his attention back to the students, who look amused on a level he is not prepared to contemplate. "Is there some sort of cross-country fundraiser I can throw money at to get you guys to forget you ever saw me outside of school hours?"
Andi gives him a somewhat pitying look. "We'll keep you posted."
Clarke texts him to make sure it's safe to come back, and they meet in the cereal aisle. "I'm really sorry," she says. "I was honestly trying to help."
"Yeah, no, there wasn't a good way to salvage that situation," he says, and bumps his shoulder against hers. "On the bright side, there are way worse things in the world than a couple of students thinking my weekends involve licking whipped cream off my incredibly hot girlfriend."
He expects her to laugh it off, but color creeps up her neck. "As long as I'm helping your reputation," she says, voice not quite normal, and Bellamy's heart lodges somewhere in his throat.
The next Tuesday, Octavia finds out about documentary night, and the next Saturday, he texts her and asks, If you were hypothetically going to try to date Clarke Griffin, how would you do it
She responds, I wouldn't, because she's in love with you. If I were you, I would LITERALLY JUST ASK
As advice goes, it's not bad. It's probably worth a shot.