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shadowglove88
A Morning At Bellamy's 1a/1 
19th-Apr-2015 10:24 pm
Bellarke
Title: A Morning At Bellamy's
Fandom: The 100
Pairing: Clarke/Bellamy
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Don't own
Summary: Or the one where Bellamy calls Clarke over so he can convince her to go spying on Octavia with him... and somehow instead ends up with Clarke as his housemate.
Modern AU.
Split due to length

"I hate you."

             Bellamy Blake's lips twitched as he eyed the pouting blonde standing in his kitchen. He was used to Clarke lying to him like this all the time. She didn't hate him. You didn't rush over the second someone you hated told you to. You also didn't demand a key to the house of someone you hated and not kill that person in their sleep. All this considered, her constant denial was utterly adorable in his books. "I think we both know that that's a lie."

             She pouted deeper and moved to sit heavily on one of the kitchen stools, leaning hard against the surface of the counter as if the weight of the world were dragging her downwards. She picked up her cup, the one he'd bought with her in mind because it had a blonde Disney princess on it (she always glared at him and yet never used any other cup) and took a sip of the juice he'd had ready for her because she was on this weird juice diet so he'd bought a crapload of "organic, sugar free" juices for whenever she was over… which was always.

              Clarke drank the horribly bitter juice (he knew because he'd tasted a sip and then had had to drown the taste with whiskey) without so much as a wince before she put the cup down with a sigh. "Why do you have to keep doing this to me?"

             "It's not that bad," he tried to assure her. He wasn't even sure when these missions had begun, or why exactly he'd chosen Clarke as his companion on them – and he wasn't exactly sure how he'd gotten her to agree to them in the first place. All he knew was that Octavia wasn't mature enough to make her own choices and it had been getting boring tailing her by himself. Having Clarke around not only made the stakeouts much more interesting, but it discouraged women and men from coming up to hit on him and become annoying distractions.

             Clarke drank the rest of the juice before she got up and walked around to the sink, beginning to wash it along with the few things he hadn't gotten around to washing as yet. "You know, I'm not even Octavia's best friend or anything. I don't have to put up with this."

             "You're her only friend," Bellamy pointed out while pointing his knife at her. He was in the middle of chopping up fruits because apparently Clarke could only have fruits for breakfast now due to this stupid new diet of hers – which she didn't need. But every time he pointed that out she accused him of not being supportive, so here he was with a fridge-full of awful organic juice and more fruits than he'd ever seen in his life – all in the name of being supportive.

             "I'm the only friend that you approve of," she was quick to counter as she shot him a look over her shoulder, putting the clean dishes in the dish drain, "there's a big difference there."

             Well, that was true. But he needed her on his side for this to work so he refused to listen to logic. "Her other friends are guys who want to get into her pants. You don't want to get into her pants." He paused and looked up from the honeydew melon he was chopping into squares. "Do you?" The look he received was withering. "Right." He went back to chopping. "Ergo, you are her only friend."

             "Your plans never work, and I end up with the crap end of the stick." Clarke always gave him the same excuse each and every time. And yet she always caved to him. They both knew this time wouldn't be any different.

             "When have you ever gotten the crap end of the stick?" Bellamy knew he was pushing it with that one. That was why he didn't even look up from his chopping. No way could he deliver that line while looking her in her baby blues.

             Clarke glared at him. He could feel it. "What about the time I caught my boyfriend cheating on me?"

             "He didn't deserve you, and you're now friends with Raven, so if you ask me I did you a favor." He used the knife to swipe the now chopped up honeydew melon squares into two bowls and reached for the cantaloupe.

             Finn Collins had been a lousy boyfriend and Bellamy had never liked him. He'd known about the cheating, but he'd also known that one tended to shoot the messenger so he couldn't exactly tell Clarke that her boyfriend was a Grade A asshat. He'd had to cunningly lead her to the realization – and then he'd felt like a piece of crap because he hadn't thought she'd be that broken up about it. He hadn't realized just how much she'd actually cared about the greasy little mongrel.

             He still felt really crappy about the way he'd handled that situation.

             Her eyes narrowed. "What about the time I got dosed with a date rape drug?"

             "I never let you out of my sight and was the one who realized you were drugged." Bellamy frowned at that one. He could still remember that night and how at first he'd thought it incredibly cute how quickly she'd gotten drunk – until he'd realized her pupils were dilated and something just wasn't right. It didn't take him long to google (on his iPhone) the side effects of rohypnol and realize that the only drink Clarke had had that hadn't come from him had come from one of his old acquaintances. "I also am the one who beat the crap out of Dax for giving you that shit. If you recall, I got arrested for it but still made sure you got home safely – so strictly speaking I got the crap end of that stick."

             "What about the time I ended up with Murphy's tongue down my throat?" She wanted to know, hands on her hips.

             "I nearly tore his tongue out," Bellamy reminded with a sneer at the memory of coming back to the table (after going to get them drinks) to find that scene. "He hasn't approached you since despite having bothered you for months."

             Her chin raised. "What about Lexa?"

             Bellamy flinched because, yeah, that was probably one of his biggest fuck ups when it came to his and Clarke's missions – and to be fair, that hadn't actually been an official meeting – it'd been Octavia's 23rd birthday party at her favorite bar. When he'd pushed Clarke onto Lexa with a hissed "Distract her!" he hadn't realized that that would land Clarke with an admirer who not only was persistent in her attentions, but who so obviously detested his guts. "Okay, okay, so that one didn't play out the way it was supposed to. You were just supposed to distract her so she'd stop hitting on my sister, I didn't realize that the reason she was talking to O in the first place was to get information on you." He raised an eyebrow. "But no one told you to date her."

             "It would've looked weird if one minute I was practically on top of her because you pushed me – and then the next I'm totally uninterested!" Clarke snapped at him.

             "Okay, one date I get," Bellamy muttered, not wanting to admit just how much that whole situation had bothered him. "But three? C'mon Clarke. I think you were curious, and you're just blaming me because it didn't work out and now she's all 'Love is a weakness and I hate being weak for you' on you."

             She glared darker at him. "I. Hate. You."

             And there she went with her denial. It was adorable. "And yet you're going to put on a sexy little dress and you're going to come out with me tonight to make sure that Octavia doesn't date another Wells."

             "Wells is nice!" Clarke, of course, was biased. Wells was her childhood friend. Before meeting Bellamy Clarke obviously hung around with the wrong kind of guys - Finn and Wells were just prime examples of that.

             "He was getting in her pants while wanting to be in your pants." Bellamy glared right back at her. "That is not a nice guy."

             "Things aren't like that between us!" Clarke snapped at him.

             "Yeah, because you don't let them be!" He snapped right back. Why couldn't she see that her "childhood bestie" wanted so much more with her? It annoyed the hell out of Bellamy!

             They stood there glaring at each other.

             The front door opened and slammed closed. "Hey Clarke! I randomly stopped by to see my brother and saw your car outside. Are you murdering Bellamy yet?"

             "Just. About. To." Clarke's voice was a growl.

             Octavia popped her head in and looked far too amused with the situation. "So, is this a mission meeting?"

             Bellamy tried for both shock and confusion because no one would believe innocence. "What mission meeting?"

             Octavia rolled her eyes. "I know all about you shanghaiing Clarke into your little "let's keep Octavia single forever" schemes." She raised an eyebrow. "You're not exactly subtle. Almost every time you end up getting thrown out of the bar because someone dares talk to Clarke, or look at her..." She smirked. "Or breathe in her general direction."

             "She was drugged," Bellamy growled. "And then suffered the disgust of having Murphy's tongue down her throat. Forgive me if that makes me a little protective of her."

             "All of those things that happened were your fault," Octavia declared without any sense of loyalty.

             "Thank you," Clarke declared.

             "Traitor." Bellamy pointed at her with his knife once more.

             "She's my friend, not yours," Octavia reminded him. "If she owes loyalty to anyone, it's me."

             He snorted. "She's totally loyal to me."

             Octavia snorted. "Sure she is."

             Bellamy frowned, not liking the insinuation. He turned to the blonde and passed her one of the bowls with freshly cut fruits. "You're loyal to me." It wasn't a question, it was a declaration.

             Clarke pulled open a drawer and pulled out two forks, handing one to him. "What do I get out of it?"

             "There is no negotiation – we are not negotiating." His lips parted as he snatched the fork from her and stabbed it into one of the melon chunks in his own bowl. "You are loyal. No ifs ands or buts."

             "So I'm not getting an option or say in this?" Clarke wanted to know as she plopped a cantaloupe square in her mouth.

             "Not at all," he replied as he did the same.


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