Work Text:
"Hey, Princess, I need your help."
Clarke looks up from her book for only a second, just long enough to give Bellamy a withering glare. "Has it ever occurred to you that you might not want to call me names while you're asking me a favor?"
"Princess isn't exactly a burn."
"It is the way you say it. What do you want, Bellamy?"
"Like I said, I need your help."
"With what?"
"Biology."
She frowns. "Biology."
"We need lab partners starting next week. I'm hoping you're going to be mine."
It's maybe not the last thing she was expecting, but it's close. "You want me to be your lab partner?"
He huffs. "I don't know if you've noticed, but it's not my best subject."
She has, but only because most subjects are his best subject, and it's weird to see him struggle. But it feels impolite to say that.
Not that she generally cares that much about being polite to Bellamy, but she has to be the right kind of impolite. So she settles on, "It's like you're trying to convince me to say no to you."
"I'll owe you one."
"You'll owe me more than one."
"Yeah? How do you figure?"
She closes her book, studying him instead. "First, I don't like you."
"Obviously."
"Second, you're telling me you want me to be your partner so I can carry you--"
"Hey, no. That's not what I'm saying." He runs his hand through his tangle of curls. "Shumway is a shitty teacher, okay? I know that's not news."
It definitely isn't, but Clarke still frowns. "And?"
"And I don't want to fail his class because he can't teach. I'm not asking you to pick up all the slack or anything. You know I'm smart, I'm not going to leave you to do all the work. But I need some help to get there. I don't want my GPA to tank just because Shumway doesn't know how to fucking explain a concept. You've got your parents to help out if you don't understand something."
Usually, when he brings her family up, he's being combative, but this time he just sounds tired. It's not really surprising; Bellamy's parents are out of the picture, and he lives with his grandmother who is, by all accounts, half-senile and not much of a resource. It's one of the early ways kids like her get ahead of kids like him, parental assistance augmenting natural talent. It's still something she's working through, in large part because of him, trying to silence the part of herself that protests she's earned everything she has. She does work hard, but she has help too. It's not a crime, just something to be aware of.
"So, yeah," he says. "I'm hoping you'll help me out."
"I don't think you've ever actually just gone for an honest emotional appeal," she admits, mouth surprisingly dry. "That's a new one."
The shrug of his shoulders is a little jerky, a strange, jagged motion, and he's not looking at her. Embarrassment is a new look on him, but she can still recognize it.
It's easy for Clarke to fall into her usual pattern with Bellamy. They snipe and tease each other, even hurt each other, sometimes. But at the end of the day, she does know him well enough to realize that he's a good guy underneath it all, smart and loyal and even kind. He's asking her for a favor, genuinely, because he needs someone to help and he thinks she will.
It's kind of staggering.
"Latin," she says.
"What?"
"I'm not doing that well with the Aeneid. Moving from textbook Latin to real Latin is tough. So--you help me with Latin, and I'll be your lab partner."
His mouth twitches into his usual teasing smile, but the relief in his eyes is raw. "Deal. Pleasure doing business with you."
"Yeah," she says, and hopes she won't live to regret it. "You too."
*
Bellamy showed up in Arcadia in their sophomore year of high school and immediately proved himself to be an academic force to be reckoned with, in addition to picking fights, making sarcastic comments, and generally working a kind of surly bad-boy image that Clarke found irksome. He was such a cliche, and not even an interesting one.
As she's gotten to know him, though, she can admit she might have gotten some things wrong.
Not everyone has the same willingness to rethink their opinions, though, and Mr. Shumway actually pulls her aside after class to say, "I couldn't help but notice you chose Bellamy Blake for your lab partner."
The urge to say something sarcastic is strong--he's the teacher, it's his job to notice her requested lab partner--but she just offers a smile. "I did, yes."
"May I ask why?"
"Because I thought he'd be a good one. He and I work well together."
That isn't even a lie. Once they get the requisite bickering and shit-talking out of the way, she and Bellamy are a pretty decent team. They've never gotten anything less than an A- on any project they've worked on together, and the headache of working with him isn't that much more than the headache of working with anyone else. Sometimes, it's actually less of one.
Honestly, they kind of get each other.
"If you're sure," he says. "I don't want to think you were pressured in any way--"
"He asked, and I said yes," says Clarke. "No pressure. Is that all?"
"I just wanted to check in. See you tomorrow."
Bellamy is waiting for her outside, arms folded over his chest, looking annoyed. Clarke can't actually blame him for that one. He should be annoyed.
"He thought you might be pressuring me," she says, before he can ask.
"Jesus fucking Christ."
"Language," she says, prim, and then, "No, you're right, it's fucking bullshit."
He laughs. "What did you tell him?"
"That you were blackmailing me and I was so grateful for his concern. You're definitely going to get arrested."
"I figured."
"I told him we work well together and it wasn't a mistake, and he didn't try to talk me out of it. So I think we're safe."
"Thanks," he says, a little awkward.
"You don't have to thank me. I didn't do anything. Shumway's a dick, like you said."
"Jesus, learn to take a compliment, Princess."
"That's not a compliment."
"Learn to just not be an asshole," he says, with a roll of his eyes, and she smiles.
"Sounds boring. Are you walking me to class?" she can't help adding.
"We're walking in the same direction," he says. "To the same class. Did you want me to pretend I needed to stop and tie my shoe so people won't see us together?"
"We're lab partners, Bellamy. That's a bond that lasts a lifetime. Everyone's going to have to get used to it."
"Oh right, can't believe I forgot. Do you want me to carry your books?"
"Obviously."
She shoves them at him, just to see what happens, and he juggles his own pile with hers, smirks when he gets them all lined up without incident.
"Just one of my many lab partner/Latin tutor benefits. I assume you're carrying mine tomorrow."
It's impossible not to smile. "That seems fair, yeah."
"I thought so."
*
There are a lot of surprising things about spending more time with Bellamy Blake. Some of them are the kinds of things that aren't really surprises, like that he reads history non-fiction for fun and doesn't understand how the vast majority of sports work, which is why he does cross country, and some really are new, like the fact that he's got a little sister and takes his responsibility as a brother very seriously, and that he wears glasses on weekends.
"Why just on weekends?" she asks, poking the black plastic frames with her pen. They're kind of mesmerizing.
"Because I'm too lazy to put my contacts in on weekends," he says. "There's no big conspiracy here, Princess."
"Yeah, but it's weird. I'm seeing behind the curtain. The secret life of Bellamy Blake."
"You're in my bedroom. That's as behind the curtain as it gets. Way more than just knowing I wear glasses."
She'd been a little surprised when he suggested they study at his place, which had been how she found out about the sister. If he was at home, he didn't have to worry about finding someone to watch her, which was--cute, honestly. And hard to argue with. She feels a little weird being stretched out on his bed, due to the lack of seating in his room, but he was the one who told her to settle in. The first time, she thought it must be some kind of weird track, but after a solid month of weekend study sessions, she's basically used to it.
"From what I've heard, your bedroom isn't actually that mysterious," she says without thinking, and then immediately regrets it. Bellamy's reputation is one of those things she doesn't actually care about, but it's impossible to miss it. He's an easy lay, in that way guys can be without being judged for it.
"I don't bring girls home," he says, absent. "Not with Octavia around."
"Isn't that a pain?"
He finally turns away from whatever he's looking at to focus on her instead, which she didn't actually want him to do. She doesn't need him paying attention to her.
"Sorry, where do you take your hookups? Don't tell me you really go home with them."
She shifts, feeling awkward. "I could take them home."
Bellamy is not and never has been an idiot; he gets it right away. "No way." He cocks his head, watching her thoughtfully. "Never?" he finally asks.
"I've never taken anyone home," she says. "That can't be a big surprise."
"Clarke," he says, and she can't remember him ever calling by her name before, especially not with that low, concerned tone.
"Don't tell me you're going to get judgmental about virginity. I didn't think that was your style."
"I'm not judging you, just surprised."
"Could have fooled me."
"Seriously." He clears his throat. "I gave Finn Collins a black eye for talking about you and Raven in the locker room one time. I never knew how much of it was bullshit, but I figured it wasn't totally lies."
That makes her smile, even with the awkwardness. "That was you?"
"He's an asshole. You don't get to fuck over two girls and then brag about it."
"Thanks."
He looks away, awkward. "You don't have to thank me."
"It's not personal. I'd thank anyone who gave Finn a black eye for any reason."
He laughs, and some of the tension in the room breaks. Or maybe the tension was just her imagination to begin with. Maybe it wasn't actually that weird.
"Well, I'm always good for that," he says. "It's, uh--it's really not a big deal."
"I never said it was a big deal. Just awesome. I really enjoyed that black eye on him."
"I meant the whole--" He waves his hand. "However much experience you have, it's fine."
She groans. "Oh my god. Please don't give me an inspirational speech about virginity, okay? I'm fine. And I'm sorry," she adds, feeling sheepish. "I didn't mean--I shouldn't have said the thing about your bedroom."
"It's fine. It's not like it's a secret. I get laid. I like it."
"Still." She flops back. "I didn't mean that in a bad way either."
"Let's just agree that we're both cool with however much sex the other has and call it a day."
"Can you also come read this paragraph for me and tell me if it makes sense?"
He comes over to flop next to her on the bed with a grin. "Yeah, I can do that."
*
Falling for Bellamy isn't exactly a surprise. He is, after all, intelligent and funny and, if not actually charming in a global sense, charming to her. She likes his particular brand of charm, especially when they're on the same side.
And, of course, he's painfully attractive and she's spending way more time with him than is probably a good idea, so, yeah. She saw this one coming. Which doesn't make it any better, obviously, but at least she was slightly prepared.
What she wasn't prepared for was him saying, casually, one Saturday, "Do you want to make out?"
She blinks. "What?"
"We're done with our lab. You're good on the Latin homework. I'm always good on the Latin homework. I'm pretty sure your paper will keep. So, yeah. Do you want to make out?"
It's not the first time Bellamy's caught her by surprise, but she's never felt so wrong-footed before. He looks so casual, so nonchalant, like making out with friends is just some standard offer he makes, something he'd say to anyone.
Which doesn't really help.
"Why?"
"Because it's fun?"
She wets her lips. "Finn's the only person I've ever made out with."
"Jesus. No wonder you don't think it's fun."
"I never said that," she protests. "I'm just not sure why you're offering."
"We're not doing anything else and I like making out. No big deal either way."
It feels like a trap, but it's not, actually. She's pretty sure it isn't. It's just an offer, and if she says no, Bellamy will probably shrug it off and move on.
Which would be a shame, because then they wouldn't get to make out.
"I might not be any good at it," she warns him, and his face breaks out in a grin.
"You'll be fine," he says, a promise, and crosses the room to join her on the bed. It's not the first time he's been next to her, but it's the first time he's been next to her to make out.
This one is new.
"Tell me if you want to stop," he says, and then his hand is sliding into her hair and he's kissing her.
It's obviously something like kissing Finn. He's a boy, so he has the same rough hints of stubble on his cheeks, and his arms and chest are firm. She'd like to try kissing a girl someday too, she thinks, for comparison, but it's hard to think about that now, because she can't quite imagine anything as good as kissing Bellamy.
He's less forceful than Finn, taking his time just pressing his mouth against hers before he even teases his tongue against her lips. When she opens her mouth, he grins, just for a second, and then he's pushing her gently onto her back, taking the lead as he sets out to, apparently, kiss her until her brain melts.
She's the one who ends up tugging on his shirt, less as a calculated move and more because it's really, really good, and she wants more.
He pulls back, laughing. "Yeah?"
"I'm not sure what I'm agreeing to if I say yes," she says. "But I assume there's a step two to making out."
"If you want." He leans back down, but this time he kisses her neck and down her shoulder, making her squirm. "Up to you. I know you haven't done this before."
"Not for lack of interest," she grumbles.
"Clearly," he teases, but he pulls back far enough to tug his shirt off and throw it aside. She barely has time to appreciate the smooth skin and muscle before he's leaning back in. "Tell me if--actually, just keep checking in. Good or bad."
"Good so far," she says, tangling her fingers in his hair.
"Yeah," he agrees, his voice a murmur, and then he's catching her lips again, the kiss slightly more urgent, his hands straying down her side, under them hem of her shirt and higher, all the way until--
Her phone starts to buzz on the bed next to them, and he jolts back, looking over. Clarke's mouth is pleasantly numb and she's hot and wet between her legs, but Bellamy's full attention is already on the phone.
"Your mom," he says, mouth twisting up.
"Fuck."
He flops next to her on his bed while she picks up and listens with only half an ear as her mother tells her they have a last-minute dinner engagement, and she needs to be home in half an hour.
"Yeah," she says. "That's no problem."
"Did you finish your lab?"
"Yeah, it's all set."
"Good. I'll see you soon."
She hangs up the call and flops back on the bed with a groan.
"Everything okay?" Bellamy asks. She doesn't think she's imagining a slight roughness in his voice.
"Yeah. I just have to go home instead of saying here and making out with you."
He laughs, leans over and presses his mouth against hers, once, just quickly. "Yeah, sucks to be you."
"And you. You're missing out on making out too."
"Okay, sucks to be me, too." He gives her a grin. "But you'll be here next weekend, right?"
Her stomach flips over. "Yeah. I'll be here."
*
Turning study sessions with Bellamy into makeout sessions with Bellamy is simultaneously almost certainly a terrible idea and probably the best decision of her life. They do their homework, of course, because they're both competitive nerds who care about their GPAs, but once they're done with labs and translations, they fall into his bed, all hands and mouths. After three weeks, it's still just kissing, which Clarke will admit bothers her mostly because Bellamy is so good at kissing, and she's pretty sure he's good at other things, too. Obviously she's capable of taking care of herself, but given how much better Bellamy's hands feel than her own do on her breasts, she's fairly confident that she wants him all over her.
Which is why she says, "If you figure this problem out on your own, I'll blow you."
His eyebrows shoot up. "Yeah?"
"I mean, I might suck at it, but--"
He smirks. "You're supposed to suck at it."
"God, you're a dork."
"I'm just making sure you know what you're offering here."
"I do."
She can see him warring with himself, torn between accepting and arguing. She assumes he wants the blow job but doesn't want to pressure her. Which is sweet. He is, secretly, a very sweet guy.
"It was my idea," she adds.
"I noticed." He clears his throat. "Okay, uh. Which problem?"
The most impressive thing is probably that he actually does it, even though Clarke can see his leg jiggling and his eyes cutting to her every few seconds. Of course, he is an intelligent guy, and he's not actually bad at bio, when Shumway isn't the one teaching it. He finishes in about five minutes, offers her the solution, and she nods.
"Good job."
"I was really motivated. Let me see your translation."
"Why?"
"Because if you have fewer than five errors, I'll eat you out after."
Her breath catches. "Let me double check it first, then."
"I'm going to eat you out anyway," he admits, and then they're kissing, hot and wet, desperate. His hands slide under her shirt immediately, and she tugs him back toward his bed. He falls on top of her, this perfect tangle of limbs and mouths as he pushes her down. Her fingers skate up his back, and his mouth moves down her jaw. This is familiar now, their usual, but in fast forward, rougher and hotter.
"Tell me if you change your mind," he murmurs, and she has to laugh.
"You know you say that every time, right?"
"I always mean it."
"Yeah, but I already know by now." She pulls him back up, cradling his jaw for a kiss. "I'm sure, Bellamy."
He wets his lips, nods once, and then tugs on the hem of her shirt. "Cool. This can go, right?"
She tugs the shirt off and gets the bra while she's at it, and Bellamy stares for a second before he kisses her again, hard.
"Fuck, Clarke," he murmurs. "You're gorgeous."
She feels as if her blush could power a city. "You could have gotten my shirt off sooner, you know."
"Didn't want to push my luck."
Before she can press him, he ducks his head down, kissing down her sternum to her breasts, and she doesn't know how to think about anything but that, him, warm mouth and perfect hands, touching her like he wants to memorize every inch of her body.
"Wasn't I supposed to--" she starts, and he nips the tender skin of her breast gently.
"I promise you can blow me later," he says. "Don't worry."
"I'm going to," she insists, and he laughs.
"Can't wait."
It's a clear lie, though, because he's taking his time. He lavishes attention on both her breasts, until she's whining and writhing, desperate with need, and then he finally slides down, hesitating at the button of her jeans.
"I swear to god if you don't get me off now, I'm going to murder you," she tells him, and he laughs.
"Good feedback, thanks." His eyes are soft as he looks up at her. "Tell me if anything doesn't feel good. This is all about you."
"It's about you too," she protests, and he gives her a warm smile.
"Okay, all about me too," he agrees. "But you first."
She raises her hips so he can get the jeans off, and part of her wants to be embarrassed about being naked, about how she's never even tried to shave between her legs and she doesn't know how she looks down there at all, but Bellamy's mouth is making its way down her thigh and it's hard to feel anything but achingly desperate.
"Okay," he says, although it sounds like he's saying it more to himself than to her. As if he's psyching himself up or something. "I'm just going to--"
The first touch of his mouth is achingly soft, just a kiss, strangely tender, but that doesn't last long. His fingers slide inside her easily, and he sucks her clit into his mouth. It's a good thing his sister and grandmother aren't home, because she doesn't even know how to be quiet, can't keep in her moans and desperate gasps and ragged breathing. It's too much, between his mouth and his hands. She couldn't keep it down if everyone she knew was downstairs listening. It's too good.
As far as she knows, teenage boys aren't known for their willingness to perform oral sex, but Bellamy is apparently atypical in this regard. She gives him a weak push when her first orgasm has crashed through her, and he pulls back just far enough to meet her eyes. "Do you want me to stop?"
"What?" she asks. Her brain is a little rattled from hormones.
"I bet I can give you another."
She drops her head back on his pillow, eyes sliding shut. "You don't have to."
"Uh huh," he says, and then he's back between her legs, stroking his fingers relentlessly inside her, swirling his tongue around her clit. She knows it can't last forever, but if it could, she'd really be fine with it. She wouldn't mind at all.
After the second orgasm, she does push him away, mostly because she's too sensitive for him to stay down there. He settles back on his heels, looking supremely pleased with himself, and Clarke has to haul him back to kiss her again.
"Don't be smug," she murmurs, and he grins against her mouth.
"Why not? I'm good at that."
"Because I'm not going to be as good, so you should lower your expectations."
That makes him laugh. "Is your mouth going to be on my dick? I'll be fine, trust me."
"I'm holding you to that." She worries her lip, looking him over. "Any advice? How do you want--"
"Jesus, Princess," he says, voice so fond it hurts. The nickname has never sounded more affectionate. "I was really hoping I could turn off your brain for more than thirty seconds with that."
"Sorry I'm excited to suck your dick and dedicated to doing it well," she snaps, and he grins.
"Like I said, I'm not worried. You're a fucking perfectionist, you're going to get it."
Before she can argue, he presses another kiss to her lips and then rolls off her, kicking off his jeans and boxers and settling onto his back, arms behind his head, apparently totally relaxed.
Clarke feels a little bad staring, because he didn't stare at her, but then she remembers he did stare at her breasts for a little while, so she's probably allowed. Besides, he's seen naked girls before, but this is new territory for her. She's allowed to be overwhelmed by the sight of him, muscular from his stupid non-team sports, dick hard and prominent between his legs.
It's intimidating, until she remembers it's him, and if anyone had told her six months ago that she'd feel comfortable being naked with Bellamy Blake, she wouldn't have had a clue what to say.
But he's good. He's going to be good to her.
"I'm just going to kind of--" She gestures vaguely. "Explore."
"I'll tell you if you do anything I don't like," he promises. "I'm not worried. Not too rough and no teeth, those are the big ones."
She exhales. "Okay."
Her first move is to slide on top of him, leaning in for another kiss. Kissing is still easy, and she feels like she's good at it. Bellamy always seems to enjoy it, and the way his hands instantly slide up her back helps too.
Her mind skitters away from the thought that he likes her, but he definitely enjoys hooking up. That's all she really needs from him, anyway. All she's expecting.
She presses her lips to his jaw now, making him laugh, and she manages a glare. "Sorry, do you not like that?"
"No, it's good. My neck's kind of ticklish, but jaw is okay."
"Oh."
He slides his hand into her hair, smiling. "Seriously, do whatever you want. I'll tell you if you should stop."
"Okay." She leans up to kiss him again, lets her hand drift down between his legs, wrapping around him. He's gotten hard before, while they've been making out, but this is her first time touching his actual penis. If not for his immediate positive reaction, she'd probably be more nervous, but he groans and drops his head back on the pillow, and that's nice.
"You can't do that for too long without lube," he says. "But, uh, if you want blow me, you can skip it. It would just make it taste weird."
She trails her fingers up, curious, and he swears. "I want to."
"Okay. Let me get a condom." When her eyebrows shoot up, he flushes. "It's safer, okay? I'm pretty sure I'm clean, but you should be careful anyway."
"Don't condoms taste weird too?"
"That doesn't mean you shouldn't use them." He leans over and roots through a drawer, coming up with a condom. Clarke doesn't let herself think about how many he has, or how often he uses them. It's none of her business. All she has any right to care about is if he's using them with her, and how often.
When she thinks of it like that, it's honestly kind of sweet. He's looking out for her.
"Okay, uh--go for it," he says, a little awkward, and she laughs.
"I thought you were smooth and charming when you were getting laid."
"Based on what?"
"I guess I just assumed."
It's maybe a little weird to admit she's thought about what he's like during sex, so she slides down between his legs before he can respond, giving his dick a contemplative look. It's kind of daunting, thinking about having it in her mouth, but she probably doesn't have to do the whole thing on her first try. Bellamy really does seem happy with anything.
"Tell me if I should do something different," she says, and leans in to give an experimental lick.
There is the faint taste of latex, which isn't particularly pleasant, but Bellamy gasps and squirms a little, and that more than makes up for it. He tends to be kind of in-control, and she's hoping this is something she'll get to do enough that she learns how to make him completely lose it. That's a goal.
It doesn't exactly happen this time, but he does give her some pointers about what he likes, and by the time she's got her lips wrapped around him and his dick filling her mouth, he's swearing and telling her she feels amazing, which is plenty gratifying, for her first attempt.
She's definitely going to get better.
The condom gets rid of the whole swallowing issue, although she does want to try that someday, assuming Bellamy is open to the kind of relationship that involves both more blowjobs and less protection. She has no idea, and it's not really the kind of thing she wants to think about it when she's flushed with pride over her first successful blowjob, so she shoves the thought aside, lets Bellamy pull her up for a hot, slow kiss.
"I'm guessing I did okay."
"Fuck, you're amazing," he says, with feeling.
He's got his arm around her, tugging her in close, and it is a little weirder being naked with him now that the orgasms are done, but it's the nice kind of weird. Lots of skin-to-skin contact, and Bellamy's hand trailing up her bare back absently. Even if it's a little weird, it's much better than him shoving her away now that they're done.
"Well, you did really well on that bio homework," she says. "So you deserved something nice."
He laughs, presses her lips against his hair. "Thanks for helping out."
She lets herself kiss his collarbone. If he can be affectionate, she can be too. "Yeah. Any time."
*
Clarke would not have said that sex was something missing from her life. She wasn't opposed to it, obviously; she would have had sex with Finn, even though the kissing wasn't that encouraging. If they'd lasted much longer, she would have done it just so she'd know what it was like. As a data point.
It feels like that's what she should be doing with Bellamy, but she's not interested in stopping, after that first time. If anything, the more she hooks up with him, the more she wants to do it. She's pretty sure they're getting better at it. And even if they aren't, she wants to. And, to her profound relief, he wants to too. There's a brief kind of awkward moment the next Saturday, when neither of them is sure what to say, but when she wets her lips, his eyes drop immediately to her lips, and he gets her off with his fingers before they even start their homework, and just like that, they've got a routine, and Clarke is suddenly getting laid regularly, and it's awesome.
Aside from the very slight, niggling problem that she still likes Bellamy, and it's hard to compartmentalize those feelings away from having sex with him. And she needs to, because he's not her boyfriend. That much she's sure of. She's not even sure he's her friend with benefits, because they still aren't really friends. If lab partners with benefits was a thing, that would be theirs, but it's not.
Instead, she's just rapidly falling for him, and no one even knows. Clarke's never been particularly good at gossip, which means she's practically bursting with excitement and nerves all the time and has no outlet for them at all. It feels as if it should be obvious from space, what's happening, but they aren't really that obvious in public. Aside from hooking up in the girls' bathroom a couple times after school, they keep their relationship (as it were) to his bedroom, and everyone is already used to them bickering and teasing each other.
For two people who are regularly hooking up, they manage to act very normal. It's the leading reason why Clarke can't really think of it as a big deal. There should be something more going on, but it's just--her and Bellamy, like always. Even when they're alone, when they're having sex, it still feels like they're kind of how they always are, teasing and fun.
A good team, like she told Shumway.
Raven is the first to ask about it, which makes sense. She and Clarke are a weird kind of friends, after what happened with Finn, and she hooked up with Bellamy after, which is honestly still kind of disconcerting. She isn't that similar to Clarke, so it's weird that they seem to like the same kind of guys, especially when Finn and Bellamy have so little in common. Finn's an asshole who pretends to be a good guy, and Bellamy's a good guy who pretends to be an asshole.
At least they're both moving in the right direction, in terms of their partners of choice.
The two of them are in the library, working on an English project when Bellamy's health class passes through on their way to the computer lab. He stops by to chat before Ms. Cartwig calls for him, and Clarke doesn't let herself watch him go, but Raven still asks, "What's going on with you guys?"
For a second, she considers just telling the truth--we've been hooking up for about a month and I'm falling for him--but it's just for a second. She's too stubborn. "Who, me and Bellamy?"
"Yeah."
"I don't know what you mean."
Raven makes a face. "Yeah, I don't either. But he's been acting weird."
"He has?"
Her voice must not be as even as she thought, because Raven's eyebrows shoot up. "Now you're acting weird too."
She folds. It's a lot faster than she'd like, but Raven is offering, and she's been dying to talk about it. "We've been hooking up. Is it that obvious?"
"Hooking up?" Raven asks, sounding dubious. "You?"
"I can hook up!" she protests, and then flushes. It's not something to say loudly anywhere, let alone a library. But no one is paying attention.
"I'm just surprised you guys can hook up with each other."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Clarke demands, and Raven snorts.
"You're way too serious and he's got a thing for you, so casual sex sounds like a terrible plan."
Clarke jerks and looks around again, somehow more embarrassed than before. It feels more private than admitting she's having sex with him, for some reason.
"He has a thing for me? How do you know? You can't say you don't want to talk about this," she adds, when Raven pulls a face. "You asked."
"I didn't think I was going to have to relationship-counsel you guys." She shrugs one shoulder. "I don't actually have any privileged information here. Just how he's been talking about you this year, I assumed he had a thing."
"Maybe it's just the hooking up," Clarke says, trying not to let her disappointment show. "That's been going for a few weeks now."
"Yeah, I don't know. I thought he was into you for longer. But he didn't say anything, I was just guessing. You're into him?"
"You hooked up with him, you get it. It's fun."
"I hooked up with him once. And it was fun, but that was it. I just wanted to blow off some steam. You guys have a regular thing going, and that's on top off whatever was going on before you started having sex."
"Nothing's going on. I've just--it's a crush. I'll get over it."
"Your call, but that seems stupid."
"Thanks," she says, dry.
"You like him, I'm pretty sure he likes you, you guys are apparently having awesome sex. I'm not saying he's your soulmate or anything, but he could probably be your boyfriend."
She doesn't want it to be a big deal. They've got a couple months left of junior year, and then senior year, and then they'll be off to college, separate worlds and separate lives. That's how it works. That's what she wants.
But in the meantime, she wants him.
"I don't need him to be my boyfriend," she says. "Sex is good."
Raven does not look impressed. "Yeah, you seem totally good with this arrangement. Really convincing."
"I am," she protests.
"Then I'm happy for you guys. Definitely not some stubborn, dumbass shit."
"Come on, have you met us?" she asks, and that makes her laugh.
"Yeah, okay. I'm amazed you're doing this well."
"Yeah," Clarke admits. "Me too."
It's not until they're leaving that Raven says, "Look, it's your life and your call. But I'm just saying, I haven't heard about him hooking up with anyone, like--this year. That's part of why I thought he had a thing for you. He hasn't really been doing the party thing lately."
"If he's already getting laid, why would he need to?"
"Finn was getting laid," she says, but she smiles before Clarke can apologize. "Just saying. It might be nice to stop worrying about whatever you're worrying about."
"I don't even know what it's like to not worry about things."
"Yeah, it would be new for you. Maybe worth a try."
Bellamy catches her eye coming out of the computer lab, flashes her a smile, and Clarke feels herself melt. "Yeah. Maybe."
*
So of course, next week, Bellamy hooks up at a party.
Clarke's never done particularly well keeping up with his exploits, but she had been paying more attention, since they started having sex. And, like Raven said, she hadn't heard much about it. She has the Johns, Murphy and Mbege, in her math class, and she'll hear them gossiping about him sometimes.
Which is how she hears, on Monday, that Bellamy took someone home Saturday night.
"I was kind of worried about him," Mbege is saying. "That was one hell of a dry spell."
"Probably worrying about SATs or some shit. But looks like he's back in top form."
"Kind of sucks. If he's back out, I'm going to get laid way less."
"Dude, don't blame Blake for your lack of game."
"Hey, I do fine, but he does better. Or he did."
"And he will again, apparently," says Murphy. "The asshole."
Clarke feels her blood run cold, stupidly. They have no formal agreement. As she keeps telling herself, he's not he boyfriend, he's not even really her friend. He's someone she's been having sex with, and not only did he never say he wouldn't have sex with anyone else, she didn't even ask.
But she still can't help being upset. Maybe Raven was right, and she should have tried. Maybe he gave up on her. Or maybe he just didn't think she'd hear about it.
Maybe he didn't think it made any difference at all.
He slides into his regular seat next to her in bio after lunch, flashing her a smile that hurts a little. She really does--she likes him. So much.
"Hey. How was your weekend?"
Not as good as yours, she thinks, but all she says is, "Fine."
He frowns a little, clearly confused by her short tone. "Everything okay?"
He fucked her on Saturday, and after she went home, he went to a party and found another girl. He'd gotten off twice, and it still wasn't enough. It's his business, but it still stings a little. She thought she'd left him completely satisfied.
"Yeah," she says. "I'm great."
*
When Bellamy opens the door on Saturday, he looks her up and down once and then turns away without even offering a smile. "I didn't think you were going to come," he says.
"We have a lab to do."
"Yeah, but that might involve you saying more than ten words to me."
She winces, but she was expecting it. She has been distant with him, and she knew this was about when that would come home to roost.
"Yeah, but not more than twenty. You're getting a lot better at bio," she says, but he doesn't smile. He crosses his arms, fixing her with a look, and she doesn't let herself back down. "I had a shitty week. I'm sorry I took it out on you."
"You could have talked to me."
"Could I?"
To her surprise, his face melts. "Jesus, yes, of course. I don't ask how you're doing to be polite. You know I'm not polite," he adds, with a slight, teasing smile. "What's wrong?"
"Just stressed."
"You want to make out?" he asks. "I know we usually do homework first, but--"
"No," she says, and his face falls, instantly. But it's better this way. "I think we maybe shouldn't--we shouldn't do that any more."
"No?" he asks.
"It's a bad idea."
His jaw works, but he's said over and over that this is her call, that he'll only do what she's comfortable with, and she's always believed it. As a first sexual partner, he's been great, and she has no complaints.
Except that he doesn't want her.
"If you're sure," he says. "Yeah. We could do something else," he adds. "To de-stress. Watch a movie, or--"
"It's fine, Bellamy. Just homework is good."
"Okay." He rubs the back of his neck. "If there's anything I can do--"
"I'll tell you," she lies. Or maybe it's not even a lie. He can't make himself be interested in her, so not telling him isn't really unfair. She doesn't expect him to remake himself for her sake.
"Cool. So, bio lab."
As usual, it doesn't take long, and then they have an afternoon that they'd usually spend hooking up. She can tell Bellamy wants to suggest something else, offer the movie again, or just offer company, and her stomach twists up.
"I assume you've got a party tonight?" she asks, and his face twists in confusion.
"No. I don't have any plans. Why would I be going to a party?"
"You like parties."
He snorts. "Yeah, no. I really don't. I don't hate them or anything, but--I'd rather just be at home, most days."
It's such a stupid thing to say, but she can't help it. "I heard you had fun last week."
As always, Bellamy's not an idiot; his eyes narrow, and his eyes flick over her, putting together the pieces. "Are you pissed I went to a party last weekend?" he asks. "Did you want to come? You said you had plans, Miller needed a wingman. That's not--"
"I'm not pissed. I just misunderstood."
"Misunderstood what?"
He sounds so genuinely confused that she falters. She's the asshole here. He didn't do a thing wrong, and she's been mad at him all week. She is absolutely the one who's being unfair.
"It's nothing."
"Clarke. You're pissed at me. You can at least tell me why. I wasn't even trying."
"I know." She wets her lips. "I heard Murphy and Mbege talking. About how you finally took a girl home again. Apparently you were going through a dry spot."
To her surprise, he laughs. "You're pissed that I took someone home? Or that I wasn't telling Murphy and Mbege I was actually getting laid?"
"I'm not pissed," she snaps, and his mouth twitches. "Just--I thought you got sufficiently laid already. That's all."
"That's all?"
She can't read his tone, but he's still smiling, and she makes herself be mad because otherwise the hurt is going to come through. "Sorry you disapprove of my emotions. I can leave."
"No!" he says, quick. "It's not--I gave Niylah a ride home. That's it. I didn't get laid, I wasn't trying to get laid, I'm not looking for--fuck, I've got you. Or I did," he adds. "I was working on it."
There's a lump in her throat. "Niylah," she repeats. Niylah's one of three out and proud lesbians at the school; you probably couldn't pay her enough to sleep with Bellamy.
"She and Caroline broke up, she got way too drunk, I took her home." He wets his lips. "It's not really funny, just--I can't believe that's what got back to you. And that you're upset about it."
"That would be a lot of sex in a day," she says, trying to play it off. But she thinks he figured it out.
"Yeah." He takes a step toward her, eyes steady, like he's making sure she's not going to run. "I'm not interested in anyone else. Not for a while. Just you."
It should be a relief, but she can't convince herself he means it. Not even when he's looking at her like that, warm and soft and open.
The same way he's been looking at her for a while.
"And you decided the best way to deal with that was to ask if I wanted to make out?" she asks.
"If you didn't, I figured I didn't have much of a shot. And then I could work up to, uh. Dates. Or whatever. If you're--"
Nervous is a new look on him, and an enjoyable one, but there's absolutely no lingering doubt. That was a confession: he likes her and wants her and didn't hook up with anyone else and isn't planning to.
She tugs him down by the front of his shirt, and he comes willingly, smiling into the kiss. It's only been a week, which is about standard for them, unless they decide to try to hook up at school, but it feels longer. She was nervous; she thought she might not get this again.
Bellamy slides his hand up, cradling her face, kissing back warm and gentler than usual, a slow, long kiss that feels like the beginning of something.
Just a month or two after the actual beginning.
"Hey, do you want to not have sex with me?" he murmurs.
"Not have sex?" It comes out as a whine.
"Okay, not yet," he corrects. "But, uh--nothing against sex, I just want to do more with you."
"Boyfriend stuff?"
"If you're into that."
She feels herself starting to grin. "You're not usually this nervous."
"Not usually, no." He brushes his nose against hers. "We could watch a movie."
"Yeah." She kisses him. "And then homework. And sex."
He grins. "Yeah, I can live with that."
*
They get a B+ on the first lab they turn in after they start dating.
"How is dating more distracting than having sex?" Clarke asks, genuinely baffled.
Bellamy kisses her shoulder. "Probably because I'm not worried I'm going to touch you too much and screw everything up anymore. I didn't do a study, but I think there's a lot more touching now."
"So you're taking the blame?"
"Sure. I can live with one B+. But just one," he adds.
She laughs. "So, if we ever get another B+, you're going to dump me?"
Apparently he hadn't really reached that conclusion, because he pauses, frowns. "No, probably not. We can just reassess our studying/making out ratio."
"What's our current ratio?"
"I haven't done the math yet, but think it's fine." He pauses. "If we get a B-, we might have to break up."
"Obviously, yeah. If anyone I'm dating ever tanks my grades that hard, I'm dumping them immediately."
"Yeah, same. You're cute, but I'm going to need a lot of college scholarships."
"Obviously." Bio was their last class today and most of the other students have already rushed off to their lockers, leaving the hallways empty aside from them, so she leans up for a kiss. "I'm not worried. I think we can date and still maintain our GPAs. So I'll keep you."
"You sure know how to make a guy feel loved," he teases.
"Not all guys. Mostly just you."
"Mostly just me," he agrees, looking stupidly pleased. He really is adorable, when he doesn't try to hide it. "You think we have time to hook up before practice?"
"I think we can make time."
"I'm glad we're still dedicated to keeping up our GPAs and public hookups even after we're officially in a relationship. Who says romance is dead?"
"Romance is overrated," she says, tugging him toward their favorite closet with a bad lock. "I just want you."
"Cool, that's what you've got."
"That's what I've got," she agrees, and shoves him into the closet.
She can take a couple Bs, if she has to. He's so worth it.