Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Do either one of you have anything to say for yourselves?”

Clarke stares resolutely out the window over his shoulder. Beside her, Octavia snorts. Their principle looks exhausted, which is fair, given that his goddaughter just got into a fight. Fights at Arcadia High are rare, which probably makes this worse. By the end of the day, it will be all over town that Octavia Blake beat the snot out of Clarke Griffin on the basketball court. For no reason, really.

Not that she’s going to tell him that. Finn might have the rest of the school calling her princess, but she’s no snitch. Besides, Clarke might have two black eyes and (most likely) a broken nose, but Octavia has a rather nasty scratch over her eyebrow and a bloody lip, so she feels vindicated enough.

Thelonious Jaha sighs. “I think I’m entitled to some explanation for why two of my best and brightest students suddenly came to blows in the middle of P.E.”

“I was overcome by irrational jealousy and rage over the fact that Griffin gets to graduate and leave this place a whole year before I do,” Octavia sniffs.

Clarke feels the corner of her mouth tilt up despite herself.

Thelonious massages his temples. “I wasn’t even aware you two knew each other, much less felt such…animosity toward each other.” They didn’t, for the record, which was what made this weird, in Clarke’s humble opinion.

Octavia looks insulted. “Please, Principle Jaha. I’m a Blake; violence is how I show affection.”

Clarke bites her cheek to suppress a snicker. She’d only known Octavia by reputation before the fight. The girl’s turning out to be a lot more fun than she expected when she was lying on the gym floor trying to scratch her eyes out.

“O,” a deep voice growls behind them. Out of the corner of her eye, Clarke notices Octavia stiffen as a dark-haired man passes them without so much as a glance. Bellamy Blake. Octavia’s infamous older brother.

He’s wearing a leather jacket and dark jeans. His windblown hair is shaggy, messy – like it wants to curl, but it isn’t quite long enough to pull it off. Seeing him up close is both anti-climactic and more intense than Clarke ever imagined. Although he’s broad-shouldered, he isn’t really all that tall, for a man. But the moment he spoke, the atmosphere of the room shifted. Clearly, he thinks he’s in charge here.

“Ah, Mr. Blake. I’m glad you could join us.” Thelonious extends a hand, but, if anything, he’s more flustered now than before. More flustered than Clarke’s ever seen him, really.

“Jaha.” Blake nods, but he doesn’t shake. Thelonious awkwardly lowers his hand and clears his throat. “What happened?” He half-sits on the corner of the desk, body angled between the principle and his sister. He hasn’t bothered to even glance at Clarke yet.

“That’s what I’ve spent the last ten minutes trying to figure out,” Thelonious sighs. “Somehow, these two ended up in a fight. In gym class. None of the witnesses know why. And so far, neither of these young ladies have been particularly forthcoming.”

Blake turns slowly toward his sister, eyebrow raised. “Is that so?"

Octavia blushes. “It was stupid, Bell,” she mutters. Then she turns to Clarke. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me, but you didn’t deserve that. Certainly not over Finn. I promise I’ll never overreact like that again. Really. You seem cool, so…friends?” She sticks out her hand.

Clarke tries not to gape. Really, she does. But… Well. Octavia seems cool too. And also like the kind of person Clarke doesn’t want holding a grudge. So she nods decisively and shakes. “Friends.”

Octavia turns back to her brother and the principle with a grin. “So it’s cool,” she shrugs, like everything is settled now.

Her brother has his arms crossed and an unimpressed scowl on his face. “No, it’s not cool, O. You’ll have to be suspended for at least two weeks.” He looks at Thelonious. “Wouldn’t you say?”

Thelonious is waffling, and Clarke can’t have that. A two-week suspension is not exactly out of the question, but it still feels a bit extreme. Thelonious probably wouldn’t be considering it at all if Blake hadn’t suggested it. Normally, she wouldn’t care, but if Clarke doesn’t suffer the same punishment as Octavia, her last semester of high school will be miserable – no matter that Octavia started the fight. And she can’t afford a suspension that lasts that long.

“That’s ridiculous. The fight wasn’t that serious. It just lasted a couple minutes, and we broke it up ourselves. Give us a week’s suspension and then a week of after school detention that can double as community service. Mrs. Kane needs help with the set for the play anyway. At least then we could be doing something productive.”

Thelonious frowns at her. “Students don’t typically decide their own punishments, Clarke. Besides, it sounds like Miss Blake was clearly the aggressor. Therefore, she will be suspended for two weeks.” He holds up a hand to stop her protest. “You can report to Mrs. Kane tomorrow to start serving your week of detention.”

“That’s not fair. If you’re going to suspend Octavia, you should suspend me too,” she snaps.

Octavia puts a hand on her arm. “No worries, Griffin. They’re right. This was my fault. I’ll tell Jasper, so don’t worry. Everyone will know the Princess isn’t getting special treatment.”

Clarke blushes, hating that it’s so obvious she’s more concerned about her reputation in the school than the actual fairness of the system. But she really doesn’t want to miss even a full week. She needs to finish her competition piece without having to tell her mother about the state art show. “If you’re sure,” she mutters.

Octavia grins again. “I’m sure. And you can make it up to me by bringing me your crazy nerd notes, so I don’t get behind on my education.”

Clarke grins back. “Deal.”

And then her mother bursts in with such a flurry that even Bellamy Blake stands up in surprise. Abby takes in Clarke’s face with alarm, and Clarke lets Thelonious talk her down, because she knows her mother will only be comforted by another adult, no matter how many times Clarke says she’s fine. Suddenly, she’s glad they settled everything before her mom got here. Finally, Abby gets around to bustling Clarke out the door, and Clarke ends up accidently making awkward eye contact with Octavia’s brother. The amused look falls off his face instantly, like she’s socked him in the gut. Then she’s being pulled down the hall, wondering why on earth Bellamy Blake is looking at her like she’d just pulled the world out from under his feet.

Clarke has known Bellamy Blake all her life. Or at least, she’s known of him all her life. They’d grown up in the same small town, and since her mom is on the town council, Clarke’s heard all about “that side of town” and Marcus Kane’s concerns about the gang Bellamy supposedly started five years ago. She’s heard all of Thelonious Jaha’s stories about how Bellamy Blake had been the perfect student – quiet and aloof but dedicated and compassionate, sticking up for the freshmen, and making a name for the school on the football field – until suddenly he wasn’t. His mom had died, unexpectedly, and Bellamy had turned angry and brooding overnight. He’d dropped out of school a month before graduation, got a job as a mechanic to support his twelve-year-old sister, and when she’d been taken away by social services for two years anyway, he’d started his gang.

It’s not really a gang – or Kane can’t prove that it is, anyway. Mostly, it’s a bunch of deadbeat boys hanging around Bellamy all the time. They’re surly, angry, irreverent bullies, but no one has actually caught them doing anything illegal. It frustrates Kane to no end, but Clarke can tell that her mother is secretly amused. Clarke’s pretty sure it’s because her mom finds Kane’s obsession an annoying hinderance to “getting anything of actual merit done.” Still, Clarke knows that she isn’t allowed past main street alone, and certainly not anywhere near the mechanic shop because it’s Bellamy’s turf. Even if her mother doesn’t believe Kane about the gang, poor equates with criminal in the mind of anyone who isn’t poor.

So Clarke has no idea what she’s going to do if Bellamy’s not at work today. She only knows where the shop is because they drive past it whenever they go out of town. But she doesn’t actually know where he and Octavia live, and she took her promise to deliver Octavia’s homework seriously.  

She stops awkwardly in the gravel outside of the main bay. This was stupid. If Octavia really wanted her notes, she should have told Clarke her freaking address. Or given her a number to text. Or something. At the very least, Clarke should have asked Monty to ask Jasper. But here she is.

The garage is impressively well kept, for so-called gang headquarters. The outside has a fresh coat of white paint, with a slate blue stripe around the middle. Maybe it’s not what she would have chosen, but…it isn’t bad. There’s an old Shell gravity pump between the side door and the bay, for character she supposes. Classic rock blares from the office. Under the rack, there’s a man working on a sedan, but it isn’t Bellamy. Clarke shifts her backpack and clears her throat.  

“Can I help you?” The man asks without turning around or even looking up.

“I’m looking for Octavia?”

He snorts. “What makes you think she’d be here?”

Clarke shrugs. “I promised to bring her homework while she was out, but we forgot that I don’t actually know where she lives.”

“And you couldn’t text her?”

“Don’t have her number.”

He chuckles. “You don’t? Are you even friends?”

Clarke resists the urge to fidget. “No. I’m the girl she beat up,” she snarks.

That makes him look up, a little wide-eyed. He studies her in a way that can only be described as with malicious glee, but the thing is Clarke doesn’t actually feel threatened. Wiping his hands on a rag tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, he steps out onto the gravel. “You’re Clarke?” At her nod, he grins, all teeth. “You should have said so earlier.”

He pulls out his phone and makes a call. “Yo, Octavia, Clarke’s here to bring you your homework. Okay if I send her up?” His grin grows wider, more feral by the second as Octavia responds. “I know.” There’s a pause. “Sounds like a plan.”

He hangs up and turns back to Clarke. “She said she’d be waiting.” He walks out to point her down the road. “Take a right on Ivy, left on Laurel. Another right on Skyline. Third house on the left. It’ll be yellow.” He eyes her carefully. “Need a ride?”

“No, I’m good.”

He scowls. “You drive?”

She shakes her head. “I’ll walk. It won’t be that far. I’m used –”

But he’s already yelling, “Miller! Get out here!”

A man emerges from the office, wearing a beanie and eating a sandwich. “What, Murphy?”

“Clarke needs a ride to Blake’s.”

“Clarke?” he asks, and there’s something a little bit astonished in his tone.

Murphy nods, tosses him some keys. “Take the Rover.”

Miller grins slyly at Clarke. “Come on then.”

Clarke blinks. “You really don’t need to go out of your way for me.”

Murphy and Miller share a look that Clarke doesn’t understand. But Murphy goes back to the car he was working on before and simply yells, “You owe me,” over his shoulder.

Miller walks around the garage and opens the passenger door of a black Rover. “C’mon. Murphy is rarely nice; enjoy it while you can,” he says conspiratorially. “Besides, Bellamy would rip us a new one if we let you walk up there alone when it’s nearly dusk.”

Clarke gets in the car. Driving, it only takes a few minutes, but Miller gently teases her about her black eyes and congratulates her on holding her own with Octavia as long as she did (which Clarke thinks he means as a compliment even though the fight was literally two seconds).

“Thanks?”

“Bellamy taught her how to throw a punch when she was nine. She’s been able to beat up any of us since she was fourteen,” Miller explains. “…Partly ’cause she fights dirty.”

Clarke laughs. She can see it.

He pulls up in front of a small, butter yellow house. It’s clearly an old, cookie-cutter company house, but like the garage, it’s been upkept well. And alone on top of the hill by the forest, it’s got more privacy than the other houses on this side of town.

“Well, here we are. Tell Octavia I said hi,” Miller smiles.

“Sure. Thanks again!” Clarke calls as she shuts the door.

But Miller’s kind smile doesn’t stop the butterflies from swarming in her stomach as she rings the doorbell. She tries to look around to distract herself, but there’s really nothing to look at. There’s a tire-swing that’s starting to dry rot hanging from the tree beside the house, and the remains of what looks to be a stuffed dog toy by the front steps. But that’s it.

No one comes to the door, so Clarke knocks. Maybe the doorbell’s broken, because on the second knock, the door’s wrenched open.

“What, Miller?”

And there stands Bellamy Blake, shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a pair of work jeans, scowling at her like she just kicked his puppy. Then his jaw falls open, and he’s staring at her in utter shock. “Clarke?”

She blinks. “Um…hi.” She gives him a stupid little wave. “I promised Octavia notes, so I thought I’d bring them by.” His face is blank now, but his dark brown eyes are piercing, and Clarke wants to disappear. “I um…went to the garage first, and Murphy called ahead so I thought…” He curses under his breath, and Clarke can’t help but blush. “If it’s a bad time, I can just come back later, or…” She backs up off the porch.

He grabs her wrist, and her whole spine tingles. “No, no. It’s okay.” He backs out of the doorway. “Come in.”

Clarke steps inside, waiting for him to call out to Octavia or…anything really. He doesn’t. He just stands there, ruffling the back of his hair and looking at the ground while Clarke fidgets awkwardly. Finally, he looks up. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Clarke assesses him carefully. This hardly seems like the same man who waltzed into Thelonious Jaha’s office like he owned the place, made his obstinate little sister confess with just a raised eyebrow, and decided her punishment all while making Jaha think it was his idea. No, the Bellamy Blake before her seems more like an awkward teenager than anything else. And something about that makes Clarke even more awkwardly nervous than she thought she’d be when faced with Octavia’s hot older brother again.

She swallows, and her mouth is dry. “Something to drink would be lovely, thank you,” she says, putting her socialite skills to use.

He strides into the kitchen and puts his head in the fridge. Clarke does not check out his ass. “What do you want? We’ve got water, orange juice, Coke… You’re too young for anything else, so. That’s about it.”

Clarke shifts a smidge closer so she can look over his shoulder and frowns. “That’s not orange juice. That’s Sunny D.”

He gives her a look. “Same thing.”

“No, it isn’t.”

He blinks. “Orange and citrusy, yeah…it is.”

“No, it’s not. Sunny D is better. Hands down. It’s tangy, but milder. And there’s no pulp. It’s an entirely different consistency, even. How can you not tell?”

He raises an eyebrow. “I dunno. Maybe you just have a more refined palette there, Princess.”

Clarke blushes. That…really wasn’t what she’d been going for. But she’d rather he think she was being a snob than that it was an embarrassing attempt at flirting with her new frenemy’s half-naked older brother. She clears her throat. “Coke, please.”

He gestures for her to have a seat at the bar while he turns to get a glass. She sits obediently. He turns and sets the glass and the can in front of her. “Ice?”

She shakes her head. “No, thanks. And I don’t need a glass either.” She pops the can open and takes a sip.

He raises an eyebrow but smirks at her. “Slumming it, Princess?”

She blushes at the implication, tries to get her mind out of the gutter. “No, it just tastes better, from the can.”

He assesses her carefully before grinning. “Finally, something we can agree on.” She gives him a small smile back.

“So, is Octavia here?"

His hand goes back to his hair. “Actually, she’s out. She should be back soon, but I guess she meant for you to leave your notes here for her, if you don’t have time to wait.”

“Oh. Oh – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to impose.” She shuffles quickly through her backpack and pulls out the stack of papers she’d set aside for Octavia. She pulls the paperclip off, to demonstrate that they’re stapled together in smaller batches. “Everything should be self-explanatory. I’ve grouped them together by day and subdivided by class. I left sticky notes too, just in case.” She gestures to an example. “If she has any questions, just – ” she pulls out a pen and quickly scribbles her number on the first post-it – “have her call me. Or whatever.” She puts the paperclip back on and zips her bag up. “Thank you for the Coke, sir.” She slides off the stool and goes to take her drink with her as she leaves.

Bellamy snorts out a laugh behind her. “Did you just call me sir?”

Clarke freezes and turns back around, embarrassed. “Sorry, it’s a habit I – I just meant to be respectful,” she says softly. Bellamy Blake is a man who, at least in public, demands some sort of respect, but none of the titles she knows and uses with her mother’s friends and the rest of the town seem to fit him. Which is annoying. 

But her slip must not matter to much, because the explanation makes him almost preen. “Can you please repeat that in front of Murphy and Miller and O, Miss Griffin? I’ve been trying to teach them manners for years, but…no success.”

Clarke smiles. “I’m afraid that would be a lost cause, Mr. Blake.” Damnit. There she goes accidentally flirting with him again. She should not be flirting with Bellamy Blake. Her mother would have a coronary even knowing she was here. And O. She’d probably be grossed out if not downright contemptuous if she could see Clarke now. Being very uncool. 

He grins. “That’s what I was afraid of. And Bellamy is fine.” There’s something intense in his eyes, now. And suddenly Clarke can’t breathe. Can’t move. So she stays rooted there, looking into his soul with something building, building, building between them–

And then Bellamy is striding past her and throwing open the door. “Kane.”

Clarke’s stomach drops. There’s no way this is going to end well. She half wonders if he’s seen her. Maybe if he hasn’t, she can get Bellamy to let her hide until he’s gone.

“I’m here for Clarke.”

Shit.

Clarke squares her shoulders, raises her chin, and walks up behind Bellamy, who is filling the doorway. “Hi, Marcus. Is there something you needed?” she asks over Bellamy’s shoulder. Best to feign ignorance. It’s not like she’s doing anything wrong. Kane’s just got an unhealthy obsession.

“I think it’s time you were getting home, Clarke. Wouldn’t want to miss dinner and upset your mother. I’ll drive you.” His tone leaves no room for argument, but it makes Clarke bristle. Who is he to tell her she needs to go home? She’s eighteen: there’s nothing he or her mother can legally do to stop her from moving to Antarctica, if that’s what she wants.

“Actually, Marcus, my mother works third shift tonight. So, no worries there.” She gives him her dinner party smile.

“Clarke,” he says warningly and moves to try to grab her hand under Bellamy’s arm. Bellamy shifts to block him. “You know your mother wouldn’t want you out this late.”

“Late? It’s the middle of the afternoon!” Okay, early evening. But still, it’s broad daylight.

“Get in the car, Clarke.” Kane’s tone says he’s done being reasonable. Which just pisses her right off. Because he wasn’t being reasonable when he came knocking on Bellamy’s door to begin with.

“No.”

“What?” He snaps, surprised. She fixes him with her mother’s patented I’m tired of your bullshit stare. He pulls a stunt like this and has the gall to act surprised when she stands up for herself? “Clarke, I told you to get in the car. Don’t make me call your mother.”

“Oh, I’m sure my mother and I will have a lovely conversation about this later, Marcus. Starting with how you’re not my father and ending with how I’m eighteen and capable of making decisions for myself. Speaking of which, since I’m not breaking any laws by studying with a friend from school, I don’t see what the problem is.”

“Studying? Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

Clarke grits her teeth. On the doorjamb Bellamy’s knuckles have gone white. But he only asks, “Anything else, sheriff?” in a mild tone she knows is designed to drive Kane up a wall.

Kane only glowers at Bellamy before giving Clarke a pitying look. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

They watch him walk off the porch before Bellamy says softly, “I’ll drive you home, if you want.”

Clarke nods. She stares after Kane’s cruiser another moment before looking up to thank him. Their eyes meet again, and she thinks he understands her gratitude. She thinks he’s thanking her too. They’re – well she doesn’t know what they are, exactly, caught somewhere between allies in a specific moment and newly minted friends – but there’s solidarity there, and whatever it is makes them equals. Somehow, she senses that falling back on route social niceties would ruin that.

So she says nothing as he turns to get his keys.

Her mother isn’t happy when she finds out, of course. Thankfully, she doesn’t ask questions like, “Was Octavia really there?” But Clarke’s still perfunctorily grounded, for having an “attitude” with law enforcement and visiting strange houses without permission. Which is fine, because at least it was her mother who punished her and not the sheriff who she only kinda knows and who her mother kinda hates. (Also, at this point, grounding doesn’t mean much. So she isn’t allowed to go out for a bit? That’s fine. It’s a month from the end of the school year, so all her projects are coming due and Wells still visits. He’s her only real friend anyway. She doesn’t let herself think about how fun it might be to actually hang out and do homework at the Blake house. She can’t miss what she’s never had…or that’s what she tells herself anyway.)

Octavia texts her a thank you and an apology when she finds out about the grounding. She promises to be at the garage for the next note exchange because Clarke thinks she can pull that off without being noticed easier. Or maybe she can at least convince her mother that the garage isn’t that big a deal, now that she knows all the infamous Bellamy Blake had done when Clarke had unexpectedly turned up on his doorstep was offer her orange juice.

So the Saturday after she’s ungrounded (and her mom is working late again), she texts Octavia and they agree to meet at the garage. Octavia says they can do homework in the office. “Bell’s the only one who works Saturdays, and he won’t mind as long as we don’t screw up his paperwork.”

Clarke agrees to pick up a pizza if Octavia brings drinks, and just like that Clarke has plans with a friend who isn’t intimately connected to her family in some weird way. Sure, Wells is a great friend, but even he’d agreed that being able to pick your own friends was going to be one of the best things about college.

“Hey, Princess,” Bellamy calls out before her feet even leave the sidewalk and hit gravel.

“Hi, Bellamy,” she yells back as she turns the corner.

It’s a good thing too, because as soon as she does, her mouth goes dry again. He’s got a truck on the jack, and his bare back is to her. Clarke doesn’t know what he’s working on, but she doesn’t care. The way it makes the muscles in his shoulders ripple is enough to knot her stomach. Then Octavia is running toward her from the office, squealing about pizza, and Clarke’s glad to be saved from sticking her foot in her mouth.

Once they’re set up in the office, Clarke sticks her head back out. “Are you not eating with us?” she asks Bellamy.  

He looks up, surprised. “Sure you brought enough? You’ll be lucky if O leaves you a slice as it is.”

“Shut up and come eat with us, dork,” Octavia snaps playfully.

Clarke grins and opens her Coke. Normally, friends’ siblings and parents are annoying at worst and awkward to be around at best. But being around Bellamy is almost more fun than being around Octavia, she decides as he asks them about classes – somehow resulting in a conversation that revolves solely around Clarke’s world history class. Suddenly, it’s dark, and Octavia is passed out over algebra problems on the tiny couch.

“I should probably head home.” She stands and stretches. He’d given her the more comfortable rolling chair behind the desk, but still.

“Need a ride?” Bellamy asks, but he glances toward Octavia.

“No, it’s just down the road. I’ll be fine.” She shrugs on her jacket. “Thanks anyway.” She smiles her goodbye.

It is a fairly short walk home. And the dark has never bothered Clarke before. Now that it’s fully spring, she enjoys walking home, actually. Even if it’s too dark to see the blooming trees and flowers, she can smell them.

Her house is in the middle of town, but there’s enough land and enough shrubs planted around it that the yard is pretty private, something Clarke is normally grateful for, given how little privacy she gets otherwise. The house backs up against a steep hillside – the only thing that separates it from the forest, which is even better. Clarke had needed that escape as a child. In fact, it had been awhile since she was out in the woods. Maybe she should go out tomorrow and draw for a bit. Work through the fact that she was slowly but surely developing a crush on Octavia’s untouchable, vaguely criminal older brother, since that was apparently becoming a thing.

She tried to ignore the way her cheeks heated as she unlocked the back door.

“It’s true then. Blake has found his mate.”

Clarke shivers and spins around. There’s a woman lounging against the far railing of the deck, with dangerously sharp cheekbones and auburn hair. “Who are you?” Clarke snaps, reaching back toward the side pocket of her backpack. Kane was an ass, but he’d at least given her pepper spray at her mother’s last Christmas party.

“He hasn’t marked you though. I wonder why.”

“What are you talking about?” Clarke’s hand closes around the pepper spray.

The woman chuckles. “He hasn’t told you yet?” She slowly steps forward. “Not even a little bit? Not even why his sister lost control and almost beat your face in? Nothing?” She rolls her eyes. “Typical.”

She’s five feet from Clarke now. Clarke carefully slides the safety device around to fire.

“He really brings this sort of thing on himself, you know?” The woman takes another step forward. Clarke thrusts out her arm and sprays her in the eyes, side to side, just like the instructions said.  The woman jerks back, snarling, her form flickering until suddenly she’s a giant auburn wolf, snapping blindly at Clarke.

Clarke doesn’t realize she’s screaming until the wolf turns in her direction, and then she clamps her mouth shut, slipping to the side, trying to get off the deck. The wolf knocks into the trash cans by the door, and Clarke takes off running back down the driveway. She’s almost made it too, when something heavy crashes into her, knocking the breath out of her.

She can’t move. She can’t move but she has to get away or – Teeth snap down beside her ear. Clarke whimpers. She can feel it breathing down her neck. It won’t miss again.

This. This is how she dies, discovering werewolves were real. Who’d believe it?

Then, suddenly, the weight of the wolf is gone, and Clarke manages to turn her head to see it viciously fighting with another, darker wolf.

Clarke must pass out because the next thing she knows, the dark wolf is licking her face, and Octavia is trying to get her up. “Come on, Clarke, we need to get inside.”

Clarke groans. She must have hit her head pretty hard when she went down. “What happened?” She croaks.

“Everything’s okay. It’s all taken care of.” Taken care of. Does that mean it’s dead? “Here, lean on Bell.”

But Bellamy isn’t there. There’s only the dark wolf, which is tall enough to helpfully duck under her right arm. Clarke blinks in confusion. “What?”

Octavia sighs. “I know, it’s a lot. If he had just told you when I left the two of you alone that first time…” She’s glaring at the wolf.

It whimpers.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Octavia and the wolf help Clarke back up to her house and to the back door. Clarke turns the key, and the wolf pushes forward to help her in when Octavia snaps, “Stay out here, you’ll get blood on the carpet.”

The wolf growls at her, and Clarke frowns. She doesn’t want to leave it out either. “It’s okay, there’s a mud room, back here.” So the wolf comes in and lays down in the mud room while Octavia drags Clarke back to her room and puts her in her pajamas.

“How bad is your head? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Clarke frowns. “I don’t – I don’t know. But if I go to the hospital, my mom will know I was injured. And I don’t – don’t know if I can lie to her yet. Gosh, what would I even say? I don’t think I could really keep a kernel of truth in this one.”

Octavia shrugs. “Just tell her some stranger was waiting for you when you came home. She attacked you; you fought. Bell came to check that you made it in okay and got her off you.”

And that’s the moment when it fully connects. “That’s – that was Bellamy?”

Octavia grins. “Took you long enough. But you did hit your head pretty hard.”

“Holy fuck.”

“Yeah. Whatever else you want to say, just know that he can hear you so, if you don’t want him to know what a stalker he is, following you home, you probably shouldn’t say it out loud right now.”

There’s a low warning bark from the mud room.

Clarke can’t help but laugh a little hysterically. “I think, I think it might be a good idea to go to the hospital then. I feel like I need to be checked out, if I’m going to really believe this.”

Octavia gives a wicked grin. “I could make him show you, but he’d phase back naked.” Clarke blushes so hard she feels it down to her toes. A snarl echoes down the hall. Octavia laughs. “That’s the wolf version of,” she lowers her voice an octave, “knock it off, O.”

“So um…the hospital?”

“Right. So, unfortunately Bell ripped his clothes when he phased. We’ll have to call one of the guys. And probably go by the house so Bellamy can change, if you think you can wait a few minutes. He’ll be unbearable if we don’t let him go in with you.”  

Clarke frowns. “Why?”

Octavia’s smile suggests that she knows a secret, but she just hums. “Because he’s overprotective like that. So, is that okay? And are you okay to go in your pajamas or do you want to get dressed again?”

Her pajamas are really just baggy clothes, so Clarke shrugs. “I’m fine.”

Miller ends up just bringing Bellamy a change of clothes when he picks them up, so he turns up in Clarke’s room looking eerily similar to the way he did the day she met him in the principle’s office. Only this time, he wordlessly scoops her up before she can protest and carries her out to the Rover. He sets her down in the middle, and then plants himself beside her, his face daring anyone to say anything about it. Still, Octavia grins as she climbs in on Clarke’s other side. Miller just drives.

Clarke refuses to let him carry her into the hospital though, for appearances’ sake. She can walk. And all she needs getting back to her mother is some story about her being carried into the ER by Bellamy Blake. Still, Clarke knows the exact moment her mother finds out who’s with her, because one moment she’s pushing back the curtain as professional Dr. Griffin, the next she’s looking like she’s having a coronary.

Clarke forces a smile. “Hey, mom.”

“Clarke, what’s going on?”

“This is just a precaution. Everything’s fine. But the Blakes insisted.” Not quite the truth, but close enough. And her mother will be more predisposed to like them if she believes they were the ones who convinced her to come in. As a doctor’s daughter, Clarke tends to be a stubborn patient. But she knows better than to mess around with head injuries.

“What happened? Where were you?”

“I was walking home from studying, but someone was waiting for me. Hit me in the head. Bellamy heard me scream and came to check it out. He found me; must have scared them off.”

Her mother frowns. “Who were you studying with?”

Ah, the moment of truth. “Octavia. They dropped me home.”

Her mother’s face pinches further. “I see.”

To their credit, neither of the Blakes say anything. And only now does it hit Clarke that her mom will want to call Marcus. Shit. She should have thought of that. Especially since she’s probably fine.

“Well then, if you two would be so kind as to wait outside – ”

Bellamy’s fist clenches, and Clarke decides she’s the only one allowed to have a melodramatic werewolf meltdown right now. “Could they stay? It’s just a head injury.”

It takes a moment of staring down her mother before Abby shrugs. “If that’s what you want, Clarke.”

She nods. There are some abrasions on her chest and stomach, she knows, but she can treat them at home, and Bellamy seems a lot more relaxed now that he knows he can stay – even if only to watch her mom shine a flashlight in her eyes, apparently.

“You do have a concussion. But it’s not too bad. Should go away in a day or so. We just need to find someone to monitor you overnight, okay, honey?” Abby concludes, before stepping forward to wrap Clarke in a gentle hug. “I’m glad you’re okay, sweetheart. It could have been much worse. I’ll have to call Marcus; he’ll need to file a report.”

Clarke stiffens, but nods. “Okay, but…promise to make him be nice to Bellamy? He kinda saved my life, you know.”

Abby chuckles. “I’ll tell him to behave himself.” She pauses before she leaves the room. “Thank you, Mr. Blake. I don’t know what I would have done if – ” Her normally composed mother swallows back tears. “Thank you,” she whispers before she leaves.

Octavia cons Bellamy out of five bucks because insists she wants something from the vending machine, but Clarke suspects this has something to do with the whole “Bellamy has something to tell you when you’re alone” thing. Which, if he does, he’s apparently refusing to tell her now. Instead, he’s propped up against the wall behind her gurney bed, arms crossed and glaring at anyone who walks by. The poor nursing intern looks scared stiff when she brings Clarke’s discharge papers.

Bellamy doesn’t speak at all until her mother comes back, asking if she wants Wells to come over, or if she’d rather call Mrs. Kane? And then he has the audacity to say, “Actually, it would make more sense to have her come stay the night with O. That way, Clarke wouldn’t have to sleep alone, and O could keep an eye on her concussion. Plus, it will be easier to assess any damage to your home come daylight.”

It is, admittedly, all very true and reasonable.  

Clarke’s just not quite sure how she feels about it, is the thing. She’s currently sitting next to a man who can supposedly change into a giant wolf at will. And well, she’s seen enough to believe it. She doesn’t know what to do with that information. But he is right about her not wanting to have to go back to the house tonight.

It doesn’t matter what Clarke thinks though, because her mother is already politely declining. “Oh, that’s very kind of you to offer, but I wouldn’t want to put you out anymore than we already have. I’m sure the Jahas–”

“They’re out of town this weekend, mom. Campus visit in Oregon, remember?”

It’s obvious that Abby Griffin had not, in fact, remembered that little detail. She blinks quickly now, trying to recover. Touching Clarke’s shoulder gently, she seems to give the proposition serious thought. “You sure you’re okay with that, Clarke? Staying with Octavia? And Bellamy? I know you haven’t known them long…”

Clarke pulls her mother in for a hug because no, she is not sure, but she knows this is the best course of action. “I’m sure. I know first-hand how hard Octavia can throw a punch. They’ll look out for me.” That, at least, earns her a chuckle, and she feels her mom relax.

“Okay then.” Still rubbing Clarke’s back, she turns to Bellamy. “Well, thank you, again, for looking out for Clarke. She can sleep, but she’ll need to be checked every three hours or so. And she should have as little screen time as possible.” She looks back down at Clarke. “And that means television too, so don’t even try it.”

Clarke groans dramatically. “That was one time, and I was seven.” But it’s the most normal she’s felt with her mom in ages – no haunting specter of her father, no professional or political roles to play, no tripping up over the fact that they’ve both become different people in the last two years and the other somehow missed it. It makes her feel warm again.

“Okay, honey, you’re good to go,” her mom even kisses her hair. “Let me know if you start feeling any different though, immediately. I’ll have my phone on.”

Clarke grins and kisses her mother’s cheek; she doesn’t care if Bellamy Blake is watching (he is – his eyes have been uncomfortably heavy on them this whole time). “Will do. Love you, mom.”

“Love you too, sweetheart. To the moon and back again.”

Coincidentally, Octavia turns back up just as Bellamy is calling Miller to bring the car around. “So, sleepover, huh? That sounds fun.” She looks a little too pleased with that.

“I’m looking forward to it. Know any fun party tricks?”

“One or two.” Octavia’s sly grin is all teeth. “Speaking of, I assume my brother has remained obstinately silent?”

Clarke nods. “But that’s probably for the best. I have a quota of one major, universe altering discovery per day.”

The way Octavia’s looking at her makes Clarke think that somehow what Bellamy has to say will be even more universe altering than the fact that he literally moonlights as an overgrown canine. But he’s already walking back toward them, saying Miller has just pulled up to the door, and so they all get back in the car to go home.

This time, Bellamy sits up front.  

He’s true to his word. As soon as they get in the house, he tells them they’re welcome to anything in the kitchen except the beer, O if they get hungry or thirsty. He says they can sleep in as late as they want as long as they don’t forget the three-hour rule. “I know, Bell. I’ll set an alarm for every three hours until ten tomorrow before I go to bed, promise,” Octavia says with fond exasperation. He ruffles her hair and tells them not to stay up too late talking; he’ll answer any of Clarke’s questions in the morning. Then, without even a glance at Clarke, he walks into what must be the master suite and shuts himself inside.

Clarke tries not to be inexplicably disappointed by that as Octavia pulls her up the stairs.

They go to bed almost immediately. She’s too tired and too stunned to have any burning questions, and Octavia seems more subdued after their ride home from the hospital. And surprisingly Octavia has a very nice queen mattress that Clarke decides she’ll be living on forever now, thanks.

After their second three hour wake up call, Clarke drags herself to the bathroom for more water and stumbles over something solid and furry in the hall. Well speak of overgrown canines and they shall appear. Squinting, Clarke’s pretty sure it’s Bellamy, but she hadn’t been paying enough attention before to be able to say for sure in the dark. That is, she isn’t sure until he raises his head with his ears lowered, like he’d just been caught tearing apart the sofa.

Clarke blinks at him. “What on earth are you doing?”

He whines.

“I’m not sure it’s any less weird if you’re here as a cute and pet-able animal, you know.” She’s never actually seen the kicked-dog expression on a dog before, and it turns out that it’s heartbreaking. “But it is impossible to be mad at you when you look like this, you’ve got me there.” He relaxes just a bit, but he still looks shamefaced.

She sighs. It’s not like it’s inappropriate, exactly. She’s fully dressed, and he’s certainly not going to molest her – certainly not like this. It would just look bad, because, well, he’s normally a grown man. But even still, if she’s fully dressed and O’s fully dressed, her brother sleeping on the floor to protect them from random murders wouldn’t be illegal or anything. It probably wouldn’t be weird at all if she knew him and didn’t think he was hot and, you know, he wasn’t a giant wolf.

It’s really the giant wolf randomly lurking outside the door that’s tripping her up, here. But she supposes she would have been a lot more freaked out if she tripped over a man randomly sleeping outside the door in the dark. “Okay, maybe it is a little less weird. But you know, if you’d just said you wanted to sleep on the floor ’cause there are supernatural murderers about, it wouldn’t have had to be weird or stalkerish at all. Probably.” She shakes her head and tries again. “Nevermind. Tell you what: if you agree to never speak of this again, I’ll pretend I’m having a concussion hallucination right now, and we can act like this never happened, so it won’t be weird in the morning.”

He perks up at that, which Clarke takes as a yes.

“Okay, good talk.”

She refills her water glass in the sink, drinks it down, and refills it again before heading back to bed. But as she’s shutting the door, he lays his head down on his furry little paws and – dammit. It’s hard to remember that this is a human person and not just a furry animal, because she’s always had a weakness for those. She sighs again and holds the door open.

“I suppose if you’re being weird out here, it won’t make any difference if you’re being weird at the foot of the bed, will it?”

He sits up at that, paw raised in hesitation, seemingly studying her face.

“Yes, I’m sure. Go on.” And like a bolt he’s in the room and laying down at the foot of Octavia’s bed.

Clarke carefully cracks the door to so people without opposable thumbs can come and go as they need before crawling back under the covers. Her feet just reach the top of wolf Bellamy’s back, and – god, he’s warm. She shifts down a bit so she can burrow her frigid toes just underneath him. He grunts and shoots her a dirty look.

Clarke shrugs. “If you’re going to be here, might as well make yourself useful.”

He snorts at that, stands – and wow, he really is massive isn’t he? – turns three times and then settles more firmly over her feet. She has to say, her toes have never been so warm and snug before. She could get used to this. And there’s something soothing about being able to feel his steady, even breaths as she falls asleep. It’s a shame he’s not a real dog – wolf – whatever.

He’s gone by the time she wakes up for anything more than muttering, “yes, Octavia, I’m still alive,” in the dark, so it seems like he’ll be keeping his end of the deal, which she’s grateful for. She just can’t quite reconcile Octavia’s hot older brother with the adorable and obedient canine from last night. And that seems unfair to him, because if she could turn into a wolf, she wouldn’t exactly want people treating her the way they do cute, fluffy dogs on the street. So she needs some time to wrap her mind around the fact that it was still him in there.

And probably for him to do something a little fearsome and vicious.

Octavia lets her borrow some clothes and things to shower with, and by the time Clarke makes it downstairs, she feels like herself again. So when she sees Octavia and Bellamy gathered around a table outside on the patio with Murphy and Miller and a girl she doesn’t recognize but who, knowing her luck, is probably Bellamy’s girlfriend, she simply squares her shoulders and walks out like she hangs around werewolves every day.

“Well hello, Sleeping Beauty,” Murphy drawls. “I heard you had an exciting time last night.”

Clarke grins back at him as Bellamy snaps, “Murphy, that’s enough.”

“What? I know she almost got murdered. She knows she almost got murdered. It’s not like she’s going to forget that. Doesn’t mean she needs to wallow in it though.” When Bellamy keeps glowering, Murphy’s face spreads in a slow grin. “Unless…you thought I was talking about something else…?” He turns to look back up at Clarke, giving her an appreciative once over. “Cause I have to say, I couldn’t blame you –”

A dark streak flies over the table at Murphy’s head. In its wake, shreds of cloth drift down onto Bellamy’s chair like confetti. Murphy goes down human, but by the time he hits the deck, there’s a second wolf snapping back at the one trying to pin it to the ground. Then there’s a tangle of paws and teeth until they manage to roll off the deck with a thud, and then they’re in the grass, snarling and circling each other. Clarke realizes, with a certain amount of panic, that this is a real fight, and she isn’t sure which wolf is which anymore. No one else moves to break it up though, and just as she’s about to open her mouth to do something, the slightly larger wolf lunges. There’s biting and growling and a sharp yelp, and then just as suddenly as it started it seems to be over, the bigger wolf snarling down while the other whines and looks away.

Well, she’d wanted him to do something vicious, hadn’t she? There’s no way she’ll only see wolf Bellamy as a pet now. She just wishes she knew if he won or not. And then she wonders why that really matters.

(It does though. There’s an awareness in her ovaries that insists it does.)

With a start, Clarke realizes that she’d stopped breathing about the time Bellamy literally flew across the table. Pulse pounding in her ears, she sits down in the empty spot next to Octavia and begins to dish out some eggs onto the waiting plate, forcing herself to remain calm and act like nothing’s out of the ordinary. Her hand trembles on the serving spoon, but thankfully no one says anything about it.

Octavia heaves a sigh and stands. “Well, I hope that got it out of his system,” she mutters before raising her voice just slightly. “Hey, assholes! You’re getting your own new pants. I don’t care if you don’t have thumbs.”

The winner cuts her an annoyed look, and Clarke just knows that must be Bellamy. And the look is just so absurd and she’s so relieved that he’s okay that she can’t help but laugh. When he turns his head and gives her the look too, Clarke help but double over. “I’m sorry – I’m sorry, it’s just– ” She’s laughing so hard now she can’t breathe.

“Don’t be sorry. The idiots deserve it,” Octavia huffs, sitting back down.

Across the table from her, the new girl grins. “I like you.” She holds out her hand. “Raven. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Thanks?” She’s a little puzzled about the finally part, but at least the possible girlfriend likes her, so she can’t be coming off too much like an airheaded high schooler with a pathetic crush. That’s a relief. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Finally letting Murphy up, Bellamy hops up on the patio and pads to the back door. Which he can’t open. Cause he has no thumbs. He just looks so pitiful so soon after looking so vicious and then domineering that it sets Clarke off again, much to his obvious annoyance.

Octavia is eating her breakfast very pointedly. “You should have thought about that before you wolfed out, if you wanted to preserve your modesty. Isn’t that right, Raven?”

Raven has crossed her arms, but the shit-eating grin is still there. “Yep. Phase or wait, Blake. Those are the rules.”

Miller squirms uncomfortably.

Bellamy stalks back and growls lowly at Octavia. If she had to guess, Clarke would say that translated to something like, “Open the goddamn door, O, or so help me.” Octavia, however, doesn’t even look at him. “There has to be consequences to not controlling your temper, isn’t that right big brother?” she asks after a prim bite of fried potato. Clarke gets the feeling there’s a story here.

She also gets the feeling that if she weren’t there, this wouldn’t be an issue for him, and Octavia knows it. Which makes it just a little funnier while also making her feel bad. Just as she’s about to get up and open the door for him, Murphy unabashedly strides to the door in all his naked glory, which means Clarke can’t help but catch a glimpse of his ass. She bites her cheek and hopes she doesn’t blush.

“Move it or lose it, Blake,” Murphy says, but there’s no real heat there and he opens the door to let Bellamy in first.

Once they’re inside, Miller grumbles, “You do realize you’ve embarrassed him, and now he’s going to be even more grouchy and insufferable than he was before, right?”

The smile drops off of Raven’s face. Octavia fidgets. Clarke can’t help but blush at that. She really hadn’t meant to embarrass him. Honestly, her laughter was probably some kind of stress response. She clears her throat.

“Well on that note, I should probably get out of your way.” She looks at Miller. “I hate to ask, but could you drive me home?”

“No!” they all three snap at once. They must see how startled she is, because they look a bit sheepish. “What we mean is, Miller could take you home, but that would just upset Bell more.”

“Oh. Well I’d say goodbye of course…” No one’s meeting her eyes. It’s now she worries that maybe she has accidently gotten herself involved in a gang. The irony. Kane will be insufferable. “But my mom’s off her shift by now, and she’ll be worried if I don’t head home soon.”

Octavia must notice her discomfort because she puts a gentle hand on Clarke’s arm. “Of course we’ll take you home if you need to go. But don’t leave just because Murphy’s being an ass and Bell’s in a mood. You’re always welcome here for as long as you can stand the crazy. We want you here. I mean that.”

And Clarke believes her. She swallows and nods. “Thank you. But I really should get home. Mom’s probably called Kane by now and…”

“Okay, yeah. I understand.”

Clarke carries her plate inside and puts it in the sink before heading up to grab her stuff. Thankfully, there’s not much. She’s just made it down the stairs when a hand shoots out and grabs her wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Clarke’s stomach takes a brief vacation in her toes. Bellamy doesn’t look remotely funny now. If anything, he looks fiercer than when he was a wolf.

She tilts her jaw up and forces herself to meet his eyes. “Home. My mom’s expecting me, and Kane will want to fill out that police report.”

“Yes, Kane,” Bellamy spits, looking away for a moment. Then he zeroes back in on her, gaze intent. “It’s not safe for you there.”

“I thought you took care of it.”

He shakes his head in frustration. “I did, but there may be others.” He still hasn’t let go of her wrist.

Clarke takes a deep breath and assesses his agitated state. He’s got on another pair of jeans and a charcoal tee-shirt, but he hasn’t bothered with socks. His hair is askew, and she thinks that might be a leaf? He’s hurried out to catch her. And while his scowl is intense, it’s clear he’s more worried than angry.

“Is this some…alpha wolf thing? Worrying about people?”

He gives an impressed little huff, and his eyes go over her shoulder as the corner of his mouth twitches up in a smug smirk. “Noticed that, did you?”

She wants to roll her eyes at the way he’s practically puffing out his chest, but she winds up smirking back at him in spite of herself. “Well, I figured there had to be some reason Kane’s so convinced you run a gang.”

That gets a chuckle out of him, and when he tilts his head to look back down at her, his eyes dance. “Clever Princess.”

“So is it?” He raises a brow. She rolls her eyes. “A wolf thing? Is that why you’re so worried about me going home?”

The smirk slides off his face. “Partly. Mostly, it’s just logical. You were attacked by one of us. You can only be protected by one of us.”

Clarke raises her eyebrow. “So you’re telling me if I adopt Murphy as a pet, I can go?” She expects him to laugh, but he doesn’t. Instead, his grip around her wrist tightens.

“This is serious, Clarke. You could have died.”

“I know,” she hisses. “But so far you haven’t bothered to tell me why a fucking werewolf attacked me last night. As far as you’ve cared to say, my mother could be in danger as we speak. But if I was the only target, it was because I knew you. She said so. If she’s dealt with, then unless you have a lot of enemies waiting in the wings, I don’t see what the problem is. So either give me answers, or take me home.” She yanks her wrist out of his hand, but she can’t bring herself to storm away. Which is unfair, because she’s pretty sure the alpha thing isn’t supposed to affect her.

Bellamy sighs and presses his palms to his eyes for a second. “Okay. Okay, yeah. Come on, Princess,” he grabs her wrist again and pulls her outside to the rover. But he doesn’t drive her home. Instead, he drives her to the abandoned overlook. And honestly, given all his weird behavior, she’s surprised by how convinced she is that he’s not going to kill her and dump her body down the cliff. He grins up at her wryly as he turns off the engine. “I know how this looks, but…I wanted to have the luxury of a private conversation.”

Anticipation pools in Clarke’s stomach. She’s not stupid; she heard what the crazy bitch about to murder her said. She knows what Murphy implied this morning that set Bellamy off, and she knows the implications of Octavia’s strategic disappearances. But none of that actually means anything until he tells her himself.  

Knowing her luck, it’s simply that she’s about to turn into a fifty-pound wolf and her ancestors pissed off enough people for that to become an especial problem, and, as her future alpha, he feels responsible for keeping her alive long enough to see her twenty-first birthday.

God, the silence is unbearable. But Bellamy just stares out the window with his hand in his hair until Clarke thinks she’s going to vibrate out of her skin. “Well? Are we going to have a conversation or are you just going to sit there until us mere mortals die of old age?”

He turns and gives her a surprisingly fond grin. “Maybe it’s payback, for leaving me at my sister’s mercy this morning.”

She rolls her eyes. “Please, you managed.”

“I told you I get no respect from that lot, even if I am the alpha.”

“I have to admit, I didn’t fully appreciate the irony, before.” His grin widens, and then he takes a deep breath.

“So. Sometimes I change into a giant wolf.”

“You don’t say. I was going to ask if that’s a moon thing, but after this morning’s demonstration, I’m gathering it’s not.”

His lips twitch up again, and she’s glad he’s feeling more relaxed. “No, it’s not. Technically, I think that means we’re not actually werewolves, but…what else we gonna call ourselves?”

Clarke chuckles. “Fair enough.”

“Now we get to the really weird stuff,” he sighs. She turns toward him, ready to finally understand what’s going on, but he’s not looking at her. There’s another awkward pause. Clarke bites her lip, determined to be patient while Bellamy drums his fingers on the steering wheel. Then finally, he says,  “I can’t believe I’m asking this, but do you believe in soulmates?”

Oh sweet heavens, is this actually happening? She licks her lips. “I would have said no this time yesterday, but then I also would have sworn that people couldn’t turn into giant wolves either, so…”

He leans back against the headrest, eyes closed, and sucks in a breath, like he’s concentrating on reciting something he’s memorized. “I…It’s almost impossible, to explain what it’s like to exist in the form of an animal. But it’s…simpler, in a lot of ways. Nothing really matters except pack and survival, and you can pretty much just follow your instincts there. War, bills, systemic oppression, twenty-four-hour news cycles, what does any of that matter to a wolf? It would be easy to get lost in it. Some do. They just – don’t shift back until almost all their humanity fades.”

“I can see why that would be tempting,” Clarke says softly.

“But…the whole point of us, whatever we are, is that we are human. Or at least, mostly human. My mother always said that our job was to protect our community and the humans who live in it from other, worse kinds of creatures. Real monsters. And we can’t do that if we forget our humanity. So, the gods gave us tethers. Soulmates. A connection to a person so strong that we’ll never get lost, no matter how long we stay in the skin, as long as they live.”

Clarke sucks in a breath. She remembers the stunned look in his eyes when they first met, the way he’d looked like his world had just upended. Holy fuck. The homicidal bitch was right. Bellamy’s studies her face in a calculating sort of way. Then he nods, like he’s content that she pieced it together, and leans back to close his eyes again. Clarke frowns.

“Say it,” she snaps.

He starts up. “What?”

“You know what. If it’s true, then say it out loud to my face, Bellamy. Don’t yank me around.”

He practically snarls at her, angry. “I would never – ! Do you think this is something I just do? That this is just some kind of line? That I bring all of O’s friends up here and tell them my biggest secret and that they’re the other half of my goddamn soul? Is that really what you think of me?” His voice has gone low and deadly.

Clarke meets his eyes, steady, determined. “No, that’s not what I think of you. And that’s why I needed to hear you say it. Otherwise, I’m going to go home and overthink this and decide that I’ve arrived at an incorrect conclusion.”

Bellamy huffs a breath through his nose and rolls his eyes. Still, he looks her dead in the eye and says, “Clarke. You’re my tether.”

And oh fuck, that really just happened. Butterflies riot in her stomach, and she can’t help but grin at him stupidly. Until she realizes that she doesn’t really know what that really means. “So…how does this work? Like what do I do?”

He laughs. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to do anything.”

Well that’s bullshit if she’s ever heard it. “You’re telling me that I just – what? Exist? And that’s all?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well, that’s stupid.”

Bellamy looks a bit taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“Like there’s got to be some…pattern or guidelines or something. You’re holding out on me, Blake. I can sense it.”

He rolls his eyes. “No, you can’t.”

“Yes, I can. And I don’t need super hearing or whatever to know it.” Clarke takes a moment to be bold. If he’s just told her she’s his soulmate, the person that’s going to keep him human for the rest of her life, then she’s allowed to touch him, right? Her mouth is dry, and the butterflies are doing can-cans, but she reaches out to lay her hand over his.

Bellamy jumps, but when she looks up to see how freaked-out he is, she realizes he’s just staring at her hand in awe – like he can’t believe she’s really touching him. “You really don’t have to do anything, Clarke,” he breathes out. “You just do whatever you want to do, and I’ll be whoever you want me to be to you.”

And that’s when it clicks. This is expected to be a romantic thing. The wolf-woman who was going to eat her called her Bellamy’s mate. But he’s not going to tell her that, because he doesn’t expect it from her. And if he had said anything other than “whoever you want me to be,” she’d think maybe it was because he didn’t want her, the scrawny friend of his kid sister who has permanent RBF. But he did, so maybe he’s just afraid to make this weirder than it already is.

She hums. “You know, you would make a really cute pet…” She grins up at him so he knows she’s teasing, and he chuckles.

“Except that. I refuse to sleep on your feet again. That was uncomfortable.” She’s worried for a moment that she’d overstepped in her exhausted boldness last night, but then she sees he’s mostly teasing too. “You kick in the night, you know. Got me in the kidney once,” he’s teasing her, but there’s an underlying seriousness there that says it really happened.

She blushes. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I swear I didn’t even think about that–”

“Hey.” She dares to meet his eyes again. “It’s okay. I was glad you did. It meant you’re alive, and that’s all that mattered.” When she nods, he rubs the back of his head with his left hand. “But I guess that is a side-effect you should know about. I’ll worry about you. A lot. More than O, and I worry enough about her to drive her up a wall most days, so…I’m sorry in advance.”

“But you can’t help it, can you?” she asks, gently.

He shakes is head. “No, it’s…visceral. I really didn’t mean to end up outside your door last night, I swear, but…”

Clarke squeezes the hand she’s still got ahold of. “Hey, that was okay too. A warning might have been nice, but I guess it would have been a rough conversation starter. But…I really do need to go home. Mom’s not going to let me stay with you forever.”

He nods. “I know,” he says, but his voice sounds hoarse.

“What do you need to be okay with that?” The surprise in his eyes that she would ask him that breaks her heart. If the alpha looks out for everyone, who looks out for the alpha?

I do, now.

He licks his top lip and thinks for a long minute. “To be honest, I’m not sure yet. Normally, I’d just set up a patrol around your house. But it’s you, so…I’m not sure that’ll be enough. I’ll try though.”

Clarke considers. “Well, if you wind up sleeping outside our door mom will have a conniption.”

“I imagine.”

“So you’d better come inside.”

Bellamy chokes. “Come again?”

“Well, it wasn’t so bad last night, was it? I’ve got enough pillows I could probably make you a whole doggy bed if you wanted.”

He snorts and rolls his eyes again. “Because your mother would much rather have a wolf in the house than outside it.”

Clarke shrugs. “I think I could pass you off as a husky or a mastiff, if it came down to it.”

“I do not look like a mastiff!” He sounds insulted. Clarke bites her cheek to try to keep from smiling.

“Well, mom probably doesn’t know that. What are the big, white fluffy dogs called? The ones that can eat off people’s counters? I’ll say that’s what you are, and she won’t know the difference.” Bellamy still looks unconvinced. “The point is, if we do it right, she won’t find out, but this way, if she does, I can make up some story about finding a stray, and then we can have Murphy come and claim he lost you–”

“Absolutely not.”

“–and then we’ll think of something else after that, but at least she wouldn’t be threatening to kill you. Me maybe, but not you.”    

 “And how would I be getting in your house unseen, oh wise one?”

“Well, haven’t you seen Twilight? Aren’t werewolves good at jumping in people’s windows?”

“Wolves can’t climb trees, princess.”

Now Clarke rolls her eyes. “Of course not. But you wouldn’t be a wolf yet. You can shift in the bathroom like a normal person. I’ll even clear you out a drawer by the sink to keep your clothes in, which is very generous I might add.”

“And if your mom happens to walk in at an unfortunate time?” The glint in his eye says he’ll play along, but he isn’t convinced yet.

Well, then she must have had great Karma in a past life, she wants to say, but she knows her mom somehow seeing him half-naked isn’t what he means. “Don’t you have super hearing or something like that? I’m sure you can manage.”

He studies her carefully for a minute. “You mean it. You’ll let me stay with you if I can’t handle it?”

“Of course I will.” She looks down and scratches her thumb. “You’re not the only one who felt it, Bellamy. I had no clue what had happened, and I doubt it was as intense for me, but…I knew I could trust you. I still know that. Even when you were being an ass this morning.”

His mouth hangs open. “So you were just being a brat, when you forced me to talk to you?”

“Well, no…” He gives her a look, so she amends: “Not entirely. Like I said, I do need to go home and reassure my mom, but…I also wanted to know what was going on. Speaking of, I know the woman who tried to murder me said she wanted to kill me because I was important to you, but…why would she want to do that to you?”

Bellamy ruffles his hair again. “My mom…My mom’s death wasn’t an accident, like they said. She was murdered by someone Anya considered a sister because she didn’t want to join their little coalition where she’d be forced to do things their way. Mom had her own vision for what a pack should be, and Lexa killed her for it.” His fists clench. “So I killed Lexa.” He flinches away from her, like he’s waiting for her rejection or disgust.

Clarke just looks at him, really looks at him – this man who is still a hurt boy trying to take on too much responsibility in so many ways. This man who has managed to shoulder the burden for himself and his sister anyway. Her heart breaks for him, but it swells with pride too.

“Good,” is what she says.

He doesn’t expect that. “What?”

“Good. I’m glad you killed her. She committed a horrible crime, and it sounds like she would have gone on to commit others. So it was a good thing you kept that from happening, just like you took care of the threat to me yesterday. Like your mom said, that’s what you’re supposed to do, Bellamy. Take care of the villains humans don’t know about.”

He turns his wrist and closes his hand around hers. Clarke had forgotten they were still touching. “Thank you,” is all he says, but he leans back against the headrest and closes his eyes and holds on tight, like for the first time since his mother’s death, he’s not shouldering the world alone.

Clarke squeezes back just as tight and swears to herself she’ll never leave him on his own again.

When Bellamy pulls into her driveway, Kane’s cruiser is already there. She goes to open the door, but he growls lowly. She looks up at him in surprise. “Are you okay, there?”

He shakes his head. “I should probably tell you, Kane knows what I am. That’s why he didn’t want you at the house the other day.”

Clarke sits back in shock. “Oh.”

“Yeah. He’s um… He’s worried about one of us going feral, I think. Or suspicious of the whole supernatural bit in general. Either way, he won’t like this.”

“And he’ll want to blame you.”

Bellamy shrugs. “I am to blame. If you weren’t my m– If you weren’t tied to me, Anya wouldn’t have gone after you.”

“That’s not your fault. Is she why you didn’t tell me that first day?”

He blinks at her before smirking. “No, I didn’t tell you that first day because it would have made things weird. And you were already nervous enough when I was just O’s older brother.”

Clarke blushes, but she remembers him being awkward as hell too, though, so. “And I would have thought you were certifiable in addition to being awkwardly flustered.”

Bellamy laughs. “That too.” He sobers a bit. “But in all seriousness, I didn’t tell you at first because this…it hits hard, instinctually. It’s like going from zero to sixty in a blink of an eye. Not to sound like a creep, but I was running perimeter checks around your neighborhood at night so I could get to sleep after that first day in Jaha’s office. That’s why most wolves tell their person pretty much immediately. But, I knew you’d heard things about me, and… I wanted to make this as normal as possible. I thought if you became friends with O, and then got to know me, well…telling you my sanity rests on being able to be around you on a regular basis might not strike such a serial killer vibe, you know?” He shoots her a teasing grin.

She humors him with a chuckle. “Okay, so, so far, you’ve told me that the side effects include you being paranoid about my safety and now needing to be within close proximity to me to keep your sanity. What else?”

He looks at her taken aback a minute. Then he runs his hand through his hair and sighs. “Look, if you have questions of a general nature, maybe you should just ask O. But don’t worry about me. I’ll tell you what I need, Princess.”

She doubts that, but she lets him get out of the car anyway.

Kane is beyond annoying. What starts off as a stilted chat at the dining room table quickly becomes an interrogation. He’s clearly got it out for Bellamy, and he’s clearly still miffed about Clarke’s refusal to obey him the other day. Finally, her mom snaps and yells at him to stop being such a goddamn ass, and Clarke suggests she go pick them up some food while they finish up with Marcus. She’s been dying for some Chinese, and it’s the least they can do for Bellamy. Her mom frowns, but she goes, promising Kane that he’ll regret being here when she gets back.

Almost as soon as the door shuts, Kane turns to her. “I know you’re lying, Clark. The evidence just doesn’t match up.”

“Of course I’m lying,” she snaps back. “Did you want me to tell my mother that I almost got eaten by a strange werewolf in our driveway?”

Kane reels back. “You know.” His eyes dart accusingly to Bellamy.

“She changed into a wolf right in front of me. Of course I know. You should have been able to tell what happened too, from the evidence, and had enough brains not to pick a fight about it in front of my mother.”

“That’s enough, young lady,” he snaps back. “I wasn’t sure how much you knew, and I’m still not sure how much he’s indoctrinated you. I promised your father I’d watch out for you if anything happened to him, and that’s a promise I intend to keep.”

Clarke takes a deep breath and allows her shoulders to settle. “Okay. The truth is, I came home and was letting myself in the back door. Then some woman started saying a bunch of stuff about Bellamy and basically how she was murdering me because she thought it would send him a message or something. I got out my pepper spray – I owe you a thank you for that by the way – and sprayed her in the eyes. She turned into a wolf, and I ran. I made it to the end of the driveway when she pounced on me. Just before she could finish me off, another wolf tackled her off me. That’s when I passed out. When I came to, Octavia was there helping me into the house. Then, as you know, the Blakes so kindly took me to the hospital. I don’t know how you want to type that up in the police report, Marcus, but that’s what happened.”

The sheriff must believe her, because some of the tension goes out of his shoulders. “Thank you, for telling me the truth.” Clarke blinks, but Kane’s looking over her shoulder at Bellamy. “I suppose I have you to thank for saving her?”

Bellamy shrugs and crosses his arms. He seems to be staring a hole into the countertop. “I put her in danger first.”

Kane eyes him, hard. “She’s your chosen, isn’t she?” Bellamy’s jaw clenches, but he nods. “Well, fuck.” It’s the first time Clarke has ever heard him curse. Kane collapses back into one of the chairs behind him, rubbing his hands down his face and sucking in a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s go over it one last time for kicks and giggles. But let’s start at the beginning. You two meet. Where?”

Clarke has no idea what that has to do with the attack, but she humors him. “Well, he came to Jaha’s office after the fight at school–”

Kane laughs the kind of pained laugh of a person who’s just discovered a horrible irony. “Of course. Won’t that be a hell of a story someday. So you meet there, and then?”

“Well, Octavia and I kinda became friends while Jaha was interrogating us. She asked me to bring over her homework and my notes, so I did. And then you showed up and tried to order me home like a child.” Kane frowns at that, but Clarke doesn’t give him a chance to interrupt. “And Octavia and I studied together Saturday, like I’ve told you, and then I walked home.”

Kane’s eyes flit back to Bellamy, who growls, “I was careful. No one knew who wasn’t pack.” Kane nods thoughtfully before standing up and grabbing his hat.

“Well, I guess it’s useless to warn you away now, Clarke. He at least couldn’t hurt you if he tried. So I best be going before your mother gets back. I’ll let you know if I come across anything unusual, and I’ll close out the report.”

Lunch with her mom and Bellamy is…different, but good different. Bellamy is respectful to her mother, but smart and quick witted. Now that things have relaxed some, talking to him is easy. So is playing off his sarcasm.

When he pulls out of the drive, her mother turns to her with a raised eyebrow and a wry smile. “So, Bellamy Blake, huh?”

“What?” Clarke asks, knowing very well what.

“Uhuh. Well Marcus is a little prejudiced, but he wouldn’t be so suspicious over nothing. Be careful, sweetheart.”

And she wants to come clean with her mother right then, but. It isn’t her secret to tell, and if her mother reacts poorly and something happened to Bellamy or Octavia or even Murphy, Clarke would never forgive herself. So she says, “I promise. But mom? We hashed it all out with Marcus. I think he even gives his begrudging approval.” Her mom stares in disbelief. “Okay, maybe not approval exactly, but acceptance. You can ask, if you want. I think Bellamy saving my life helped him overcome a lot of his prejudice.”

Nodding slowly, her mother takes this in. “Alright then, I’ll talk to him, and if he does indeed confirm that he doesn’t think being around the Blakes would put you in danger, I won’t try to stop you. I am really grateful to them for taking care of you.”

Clarke smiles. “I know.”

“But…he is quite a bit older than you, at this age. It’s not illegal, but I don’t want you holding yourself back because of him, okay Clarke? Promise me you won’t.”

“Of course I–” she starts, and then she remembers the proximity thing. And the fact that he has a house and a business and a sister and a pack here. He can’t leave. And Clarke knows she can’t bear to make him, either. “I’m keeping that in mind, mom. And we’re taking things slow. I’m not even sure he’s admitted that that’s what he wants, yet. Or that I could want it, or that he could ask it of me. We just met, and he seems like the self-sacrificing type. Octavia and all, you know?”

Her mom’s looking at her in that Mom sort of way – the way that reminds Clarke that for all she’s grown and changed while her mother wasn’t looking, this is still the woman who knows her best. “But you have. And you’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but I am. And I promise that I’ll carve out a life that I want and that makes me happy and fulfilled – it won’t just be about him. But, I am going to stay here for him, and I might not have the life you wanted.”

Her mom scoops her up and hugs her tight again. “Oh sweetie, the life I want for you is one where you’re happy and loved. And if, in time, Bellamy Blake gives you that, I’ll be more than happy.” She pulls away and smooths her hands over Clarke’s face. “And no matter what, I’ll always be proud of you. Your father would be too.”

Clarke pulls her close and cries cathartic mother-daughter bonding tears.

She doesn’t know what sort of setup Bellamy arranged for the day, but Clarke imagines he’s had someone or something monitoring her house since he left. She wouldn’t be too surprised if he’d been in the tree line himself for most or even all of it. If feels a little weird and somewhat creepy to know that her house is being watched, but even as she’s annoyed, she can’t help the fond, warm feeling that bubbles up in her chest at the same time.

It feels good to know that someone’s watching out for her. It makes being back in the house easier, which Clarke is grateful for, because she refuses to be scared away from her own home. And, well, there’s just something adorably sweet about how concerned he is for her safety.

But then, if there was only one person in the world who could ensure that Clarke was never in danger of going insane, well, she’d be terrified of losing them too. It wouldn’t matter who they were so much as what they represented. That thought gives her a nice bitter dose of perspective that helps her keep her head on straight.

After that, she puts all thoughts of anything wolf-related out of her mind and tries to focus on her art, for as long as she’s allowed, and then helping her mom cook. She cleans her room and her bathroom from top to bottom, and by the time she’s done she’s exhausted, and it’s dark. She empties the deepest drawer in her bathroom vanity, and then she waits.

Bellamy lasts until ten before he’s telling her to open her window. She does. It takes a bit of finagling to get the screen out, but she eventually manages, and then she locks her door and texts him it’s all clear. Watching him wriggle into her room is a sight, because he has to catch the sill and then haul himself over it without banging his head on the upper half of the window, but he manages and still does it more gracefully than Clarke could ever dream. He also has really strong arms.

Showoff.

Anyway, once he’s in, she shows him to the bathroom, shows him the drawer she cleaned out for him, and then explains she’s having another early night, curtesy of her concussion. He grimaces at the reminder of her injury but simply nods, and she leaves him alone in the bathroom. A minute or two latter, she hears scratching and realizes that his not having opposable thumbs was a flaw in her plan, but as long as he can signal her, she guesses it won’t be too much of a problem.

She lets him out, and he immediately jumps up on her bed and claims the whole left side for himself – despite the pile of cushions she’d made for him in the corner. She almost scolds him since this wasn’t their agreement exactly, but then she remembers what he said about being happy to be kicked in the kidney just because it reminded him that she was still alive. Maybe trying to suppress his worry actually made it worse; maybe he couldn’t bear even being across the room from her. Maybe he was just a smug bastard who hogged the covers. Either way, she just rolls her eyes and climbs into the other side of the bed. At least he had the decency to sniff out which side was hers.

“Goodnight, Bellamy,” she murmurs as she reaches for the light. She feels the vibration of his tail thumping against the bed in answer.

There’s something wet sniffing her ear.

Clarke swats at it and hits something furry. Why is there a dog – oh, Bellamy, right. She rolls over and groans. “I’m on sick leave, if you have to get up at this ungodly hour, that’s your problem, not mine,” she mutters, clasping her hands over her head to protect her ears.

He nudges at her arm and whines.

“What?” she demands, turning her head toward him and cracking an eye open. “What’s up?” He whimpers. Clarke finally looks at the window, it’s still dark. The clock says it’s three in the morning. She sits up. “Is something wrong?” Her heart races, and the bastard puts his head down on her lap.

Clarke blinks.

He looks up with guilty eyes.

“If you woke me up at this ungodly hour just for pets, I’ll throw you out on your ear. Don’t think I won’t.”

He whimpers again.

Sighing, Clarke gives into temptation and gingerly strokes the tips of her fingers down the center of his head to his neck. He melts. So she does it again and again until she stops thinking about it, still trying to puzzle out what would have him –

“Was it a nightmare? Was that it?”

His eyes snap open and fix her with the most broken, human expression possible.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, big guy. I’m perfectly fine – thanks to you. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” But he still looks so damn scared, and she remembers what he told her about instinct being all-consuming in this form. And if that’s true, it’ll be hard – if not impossible – to logic his way out of this, like he could if he was human and woke up and saw her alive.

And maybe if that’s the case, it’s okay to treat him a little more like a dog.

Or maybe she’s lying to herself, but hey, they already have a “what happens at night stays in the night” sort of deal going, don’t they? So she strokes him with her whole palm and whispers, “Here, stand up a second.”

He looks confused, but he does, and she scoots over toward his side of the bed. He steps over her to get out of her way and then turns around, looking at her like she’s lost her marbles. Well, maybe she has, but he’s the one acting clingy so really – who has room to talk? Once she’s in about the middle of the bed, she pats the space beside her left shoulder, and he sits down on his haunches gingerly.

“Do you trust me?”

He just stares back at her and doesn’t move, so slowly, carefully, she reaches up and clasps her hands around his massive head and guides him down so his ear rests over her heart. He goes still as stone.

“This okay?”

He shuffles around a bit, puts a paw on her rib cage and readjusts the angle. Clarke lets him. When he heaves out a sigh that tells her he’s done, she brings her right hand back up and strokes his head again until she falls back to sleep.

When she wakes up again, the angle of the sun in her room tells her it’s late. The weight on her chest tells her Bellamy’s still here, and – judging by the fact that he’s still here snuggled up like this – still asleep. Shocked, she looks down at him and confirms it.

But is it really all that surprising? After all, has he actually slept since the attack? And the emotional exhaustion alone would have to be tremendous.

And she likes it, the way the weight of him makes her feel secure, protected. She also likes that he trusts her enough to be this vulnerable with her. It would be weird, if he were human right now, but the fact he’s not takes away the awkwardness of being two human beings who happen to have compatible sexualities. This isn’t about that. It’s about physical comfort and understanding and – souls really.

God, she sounds corny.

But it’s true. That’s what she’d been trying to tell him last night: Listen, feel my heartbeat. I’m alive, and you’re alive, and you protect me, and I protect you. She’ll get there with human Bellamy one day; she knows that deep down in her bones. But they’re not there yet, and it will take a lot of time before they do get there, because being human is messy and complicated and involves actually getting to know someone, instead of just feeling them.

Her right hand curls around Bellamy’s neck, holding him to her gently. He snuffles into her arm contentedly. She lets herself go back to sleep, too, no matter how late it is. She’ll blame it on the concussion if she needs to, but this way he can make his human escape without it being awkward for both of them in that space between him being her nighttime protector and her daytime – whatever he is in the daytime.

When Clarke wakes the third time, her mom’s knocking on the door. She sits bolt upright, panicked, wildly looking around for her oversized wolf. He’s nowhere to be seen and the window’s open, so she takes that as a good sign. Especially as it seems Octavia’s come by. Clarke jumps out of bed and yanks the covers up, looking at herself in the mirror. She looks like she’s been asleep all day, but not quite like a bag lady so, she’ll take it.

When she opens the door, her mom smiles. “It’s nice to see you up, sweetie. I’m glad you’ve gotten some rest. Octavia came over with your assignments. Why don’t you come down and have a snack while you talk?”

From the moment Clarke steps foot in the kitchen, Octavia looks like the cat that ate the canary. “Well, I can see why Bell came home so late and so happy. Or rather, I can smell it. Your reek, by the way,” she says as soon as Clarke’s mom leaves them to go do laundry and other mom things.

Clarke blushes and then frowns. “Gee, thanks, Octavia.”

“Don’t mention it.” She grins wickedly. “But don’t worry, my brother won’t mind that you reek of him.” She picks up an apple slice and jabs it at Clarke. “But you owe me, by the way. It’s going to make him bloody unbearable.” She pauses, considering. “Although you did get him out of his mood, so. I guess we’re even.”

“I was going to invite you up to my room, but…”

“Yeah, no, please don’t. Smelling my brother there would be weird. I’m trying very hard not to make this weird.”

Clarke snorts and dips her apple in peanut butter. “I’m pretty sure there’s nothing about this that isn’t weird.”

Octavia shrugs. “Fair enough.”

“So…speaking of. Your brother is adorably awkward trying to explain things to me. So far, he’s made it sound like he’s just going to be my loyal furry companion forever.”

Groaning, Octavia thunks her head on the countertop. “He would. My god, Bell.”

Clarke laughs in spite of herself. “I know this is super unfair to ask, but would you mind telling me what’s actually going on? Generally, of course.”

“Does your mom have alcohol we can steal?” Octavia mumbles into the counter. “Actually, one of Jasper’s edibles would be better if I’m actually going to have to have this conversation.”

“I…could ask someone else?” Clarke hedges. She doesn’t want to ask anyone else. She’d rather tell her mother that Bellamy slept over last night.

“No, don’t you dare; he’d die of humiliation, the idiot.” Octavia raises her head and looks a Clarke. “The thing you have to understand about Bell is that he has his pride. Like he’s top dog, and the boss and undefeated and all that. With you he’ll probably pretend to be some measure of aloof and mysterious; a bad boy, if you will. At least every now and then at first, and it will be absolutely nauseating for me to watch. Because the truth is there’s literally no one softer in this world than my brother. That’s why he has to maintain a tough exterior with outsiders – not you, of course, but others who would manipulate his kindness. So we rib him when we can, but about the little things, you know? This is a big thing.”

Clarke frowns, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that the reason he’s so hopeless with you is that he would never, ever want you to feel pressured into anything. And really, he’s a romantic at heart, so there’s that too. But nobody else would give you the space he’s trying to give you to make your own choices – or to feel like you can, at least. And he knows it. So if you go asking Murphy or Miller or Raven, it’ll expose all the complicated emotions he’s experiencing and the awkward way he’s handling it with you. Basically, they’ll know he doesn’t want to assert his dominance in this way, and even though they would all give their lives for him, they’re still wolves. Knowing this would equate to smelling weakness and they couldn’t help but challenge him.”

“Oh. Umm…I’m getting this whole tether thing is more important socially than I thought?”

Octavia stares at her a moment. “Tether. That’s what he told you? That’s all he told you?”

Clarke takes a moment to gather her thoughts. She wants to paint Bellamy in the best light here, but she isn’t quite sure how. “He suggested it was like soulmates, and that I would be the person keeping him human now. He told me he’d worry about me a lot–” Octavia snorts a laugh. “–and that he’ll need to see me regularly. He said he’d be whatever I wanted him to be to me, but I could tell the fact I’m just now graduating high school freaks him out a bit.” Fidgeting with her hands, Clarke mumbles, “And I get the sense it’s supposed to be a romantic sort of thing, but he hasn’t said.”

Octavia’s frowning now. “Well, he didn’t lie, but – He’s left a lot out that you need to know, especially after Anya. He thinks he’s protecting your free will, but I don’t think you’re the type of person who does something just because their told?”

Clarke raises an eyebrow. “Only if I think there’s good reasons for it. Or I want to anyway.”

Octavia nods. “Right. Well, the truth is, you’re his chosen. You can think of it like a mate, but it’s a little more magical than that. So yeah, there’s definitely supposed to be a romantic component there. The tether only works because, from the moment you met his gaze, there’s been a soul bond between you that can’t be broken by anything other than death. It’s like – fated soulmates I guess, so he was right there. But right now, he feels the tug more than you do, because of the wolf. He absolutely cannot be too far away from you for too long without it sucking the life out of him, literally. And while the bond would make him willing to do anything to make you happy, including being whoever you want him to be, being anything less than your partner would make him absolutely miserable. Seeing you with someone else…that could eventually kill him too.”

Clarke blinks in shock. “He did not tell me that.”

“Yeah, well. He’s an idiot.” Octavia sighs. “It’s dangerous, for a wolf to feel more compelled by the bond than their chosen, so usually they claim them pretty quickly. If he’d been most alphas, he’d have claimed you that first day at the house.”

“But that was the first time we spoke!”

“Doesn’t matter. Fate says you’re destined, you can get to know him once the bond’s secure – at least that’s how it usually goes. Again, Bell’s a romantic. But it’s a biological thing too. The wolf is driven to secure the bond as quickly as possible. So not only does he feel it more than you, he feels it more strongly than he will after he claims you. Killing you now would have been Anya’s perfect revenge because there’s no way he could have ever recovered from that. After a claiming, there’s a chance, but before – he would have literally lost his mind. The guilt alone for not acting when he had the chance –”

Octavia shakes her head. “Anyway, essentially, the chosen becomes the center of a wolf’s world. That balances some after the claiming, but not much. And that’s why not being assertive about this is dangerous for him. As an alpha, any threat to him is a threat to the pack, which effectively undermines his leadership. So that’s why he’s been in such a mood lately. He doesn’t normally lose it at the breakfast table over one of Murphy’s crude jokes.”  

Clarke attempts a smile. “He sounded stunned when I asked him what he needed to not be worried out of his mind over me. He never told me any of this.”

“Yeah, well, he also has a martyr complex when it comes to people he cares about. So thank you, by the way, for telling him he could sleep here. I think it’s the only thing that’s going to keep him functional.”

“So…I feel like I can guess, but why doesn’t he just claim me?”

Octavia wrinkles her nose. “Because it involves sex. And you don’t know him. Also, it’s like…getting werewolf married, permanently. Like I said, fate has declared it’s going to work out, but that doesn’t mean that love is magically going to float down out of the sky when he bites you. But you will be chained to him the same way he is to you, if you want to use that metaphor.”

Clarke snorts. “Pike would be happy to know you were paying attention in class at least once this semester.”

“See, I listen. But yeah, he just…wants it to feel normal, I think. And for you to feel like you have other options. You do. I seriously think he’d let you walk away from this if you wanted, or even follow you off to college if you let him.”

“But he’ll die, if we’re not together?”

“Fade slowly in the midst of unbearable agony, yeah.”

Clarke traces a crack on the countertop. “I’ve already thought about it, you know? Yesterday. I can’t ask him to leave the life he’s built here. And I knew even then that I couldn’t leave him.”

Octavia breathes out in relief. “Good.”

“And it was my decision before I even knew, so…help me convince him of that, when I eventually tell him.”

“Will do.”

“So this claiming – sex and a bite; and then after?”

“Then I move out ’cause you’ll be fucking like newlywed rabbits, and you have the white picket fence and the whole nine yards. I hope you want kids. Lots of kids. It’s important to werewolves, especially alphas, but Bell’s been a sucker for kids since he was a kid, so.”

Clarke blushes and tries to imagine it. She can’t quite yet. She hasn’t gotten passed the sex. “So he’s going to be weird about it at least until I graduate. I imagine I just go along with him and pretend I don’t know? Continue to say I’m studying with you when really I’m getting to know him?”

“Flirting with him you mean. God, the two of you are nauseating. But yeah, I think for now. Continue to let his wolf sleep with you and scent you. That’ll help him not lose his mind. For the sake of all things worth preserving, do not even look at another man. Or let another guy look at you, if you can help it. Befriend him, and then – I don’t know, make out in the rain or something.”

Clarke scowls. “You were doing great there, till the end.”

“Well he is my brother, and I was excited to have a new friend of my own outside the pack until he went and ruined it. Now it’s just weird. Sue me,” Octavia shrugs.  

Clarke, being Clarke, draws up a battle plan. Or a “become friends with and then seduce Bellamy Blake” plan. It has a timeline and everything.

The first step, she thinks, is hanging out with human Bellamy more. So she and Octavia decide that Saturday study dates are now a weekly thing, and that Bellamy can walk her home after and then just climb in her window. Win-win, really. In addition, they decide Clarke will come over for any opportunity Octavia can think of until Clarke’s just there all the time and no one thinks to question it anymore.

(This is the idea that excites Clarke the most. She’s never had a friend like that, whose house she knows as well as her own, that she belongs in just as much – not even with Wells.)

The second step in ingratiating Bellamy into her circle, as small as it is. This essentially means dragging Wells along to whatever Octavia thinks she can drag Bellamy to where they can meet up and all hang out together. It also means inviting him and Octavia to dinner with her mom. Lunch yesterday was a good start, but…if she’s basically going to get married within a year of graduation, she needs her mom to really love him too.

The third step is more ambiguous. This is the part where she seduces Bellamy if he’s still being weird about that after step two is complete. Really, Clarke thinks this mostly would consist of kissing him at some point, but she’s hoping things just kinda…get there on their own. She thinks they will. They’ve got chemistry, and once Bellamy stops feeling like a creeper and figures out she’s really, legitimately into him on her own, she imagines things will progress naturally.

The fourth step is to plan a wedding, because her mother won’t let her not, and since she’ll be more bindingly “married” anyway, well. Why not?

(Secretly she’s looking forward to this step more than she wants to admit.)

By the time she’s made her plan and locked it away, it’s dark outside again. She wonders whether she should wait up or not. Finally, it’s midnight and she really is tired because of the concussion, so she opens her window and slips into the middle of the bed. But she can’t really get to sleep until she hears the quiet thump of someone jumping onto the windowsill. The lights are off, and he doesn’t wake her, just cracks the bathroom door enough so he can get out with four feet.

Clarke wonders if he knows she can still make out the silhouette of his muscled back in the mirror when he takes his shirt off. She wonders if that might be intentional, or if he thinks she’s more asleep than she is. Either way, he pads out of the bathroom and hops up beside her as pretty as you please.

When he lays his head on Clarke’s left bicep she rolls over and slings her other arm around him too, burying her face in his fur. He smells like the outdoors and dog and something else that might just be unique to Bellamy. And she knows that however long it takes for them become a thing in the real, human world, it’ll all be okay. Because they’re a team; fate’s already said so, and they’re both convinced of that much.

They’re going to be great friends too, she knows it. And one day, after Clarke’s managed to establish herself as an artist, they’re going to have beautiful, stubborn, brilliant babies who will have Bellamy wrapped around their tiny little fingers even more than Octavia does.

She falls asleep with a smile.