I'm so excited you're doing this again! Can I request Bellamy POV for the Exiles Among You verse? Thank you!!
So, uh, I was going to post two alt-POV fills today, but I decided I’d let this one go for as long as I felt like it needed, so, long story short, here’s 11k of Bellamy POV, I’ll do a second fill next week instead.
happy exiles among you weekend!
The weirdest thing about the social services call is how short it is. They verify his name and date of birth, and then they tell him his mother is dead and he's his sister's closest living relative, and ask if he would be willing to take her.
Bellamy has spent six years trying to get custody of his sister. He thought he'd tried everything. He called his mother. He emailed. He drove down to Baltimore and looked her up, only to not find her. He paid to talk to a lawyer about it, and got absolutely nothing. And now the government is just going to give her to him. No big deal.
Except that their mother is dead. It's not the kind of thing he can be happy about. Someone had to die for him to get this.
Well, she didn't have to. But she did.
He counts fifteen long, deep breaths, and then he calls Clarke.
"You never call," she says, by way of greeting. "What's wrong?" He lets out a strangled noise, unable to quite control his vocal chords, and she says, "Shit. Seriously, what happened?"
He lets out another breath. "My mom died."
"Okay," she says, slow. "And?"
This time, the sound he makes is much closer to a laugh. Practically recognizable. "That can't be all?"
"What's happening to your sister?"
Honestly, he has no idea what he'd do without Clarke. He wouldn't know how to say this stuff. He needs someone else to fill in the blanks, and she knows every one. "I get her."
"Good. It would have been a pain to sue for custody."
"I don't think I can go to the funeral. It would be so expensive, and if I go, I don't have time to get stuff ready for her."
Clarke clucks her tongue. "Do you want to go?"
"No," he admits. "I wouldn't mind being there for O, but I'd have to take tomorrow off, and I already need to take Monday so she can get settled in." He rubs his face. "Fuck. I'm an asshole. My mother just died, I can take a few days off."
What about a West Wing AU with Clarke as CJ and Bellamy as Danny? Clarke's just trying to get through a crazy press day, but that relentless reporter from the third row won't stop hounding her for the story he knows she's keeping back.
Clarke has been at the White House since five a.m., and didn’t leave last night until after midnight. She managed about two hours of good sleep, and she’s been working on press releases all day, none of which are ready, and no one will leave her alone.
She’s amazed Bellamy doesn’t show up until eight; it’s a lot of restraint for him. That doesn’t stop her from greeting him with, “I will actually murder you.”
“Good morning to you too,” he says, grinning. “I brought you coffee.”
She frowns down at the paper cup, which is definitely from her favorite little coffee shop and definitely smells delicious. “I don’t accept bribes,” she says.
“It’s not a bribe, it’s–” He pauses. “No, actually, it’s a bribe. But it’s so you don’t kill me, not because I think it’s going to get me advance information.”
She wavers for all of five seconds before she snatches the mug and drinks deeply. “I won’t kill you yet.”
“That’s the best I ever hope for,” he says, falling into step with her. “Where’s your intern who doesn’t know how to shut up? Myles? He’ll tell me what’s happening, right?”
Clarke gives him an unimpressed look, which he returns with an even brighter smile. Bellamy is her least favorite White House correspondent, in that he’s actually her favorite and that makes him incredibly inconvenient.
“Nothing is happening,” she says.
“Wow. That’s really what you’re going with? Really? You look like you haven’t slept and you usually at least let me be an asshole before you start threatening to kill me.” His voice drops, real concern leaking into his tone. “Wells doing okay?”
“President Jaha is fine,” she says. Bellamy and Wells went to college together, which was the start of Wells saying, Hey, I met this guy, he’d be perfect for you. She’s not sure why he thought it was a good idea to appoint her as his Press Secretary when he’s been trying to set her up with a reporter, but she’s never really understood how Wells’ mind works. “You can wait for the press conference like everyone else, Bellamy.”
“So now I can’t even express concern for my old friend on what’s clearly a–” Clarke elbows him, and he relents. “Fine. How long to the press conference?”
“I still haven’t made up my mind to not murder you.”
“If it’s more than an hour, I’ll bring you another coffee at nine.”
His smile is stupidly charming, and Clarke is already exhausted enough to want to lean into him. He would totally date her in a second. She knows he would. He asked her, before Wells got elected. He’d said, “I want one good thing if this goes badly, so if he loses, will you get dinner with me?”
Clarke had smiled. “Not if he wins?”
“If he wins it’s probably a conflict of interest.”
“Probably,” she’d agreed. “Sure, if he loses, we’ll get dinner. You’re paying, since I won’t have a job.”
They’d shaken on it, formal, and Clarke hadn’t been sad that Wells won, but she does, sometimes, wish her interests weren’t so different from Bellamy’s in just one way, and that it wasn’t such an important way.
“Make the next one a latte and we’ll talk,” she tells him, pulling her attention back to the matter at hand. “I have shit to do. Don’t trick my intern into giving away state secrets.”
“Don’t get interns I can trick!” he calls after her, and she manages to maintain her smile for a full fifteen minutes.
*
He brings a muffin with the latte, and a banana.
“Potassium,” he says. “It’s good for you.”
“Is this bran?” she asks, poking at the muffin. “How old are you?”
“Eighty,” he says. “Did you put the press conference at 9:30 so you could drink your coffee first?”
She tears off a hunk of the muffin and passes it back to him so he can take some. It’s not really a break, just sharing a quick meal with a–colleague. That’s probably the right word.
“I had to give everyone else a chance to show up. Not all reporters are as dedicated as you.”
“Sucks to be them.” He steals the coffee and takes a sip. “Do I get an exclusive scoop for showing up early and often?”
“The Press Secretary prefers blueberry muffins.”
“You might as well just eat cake for breakfast,” he grumbles. “Seriously, Clarke. Bran is good for you.”
“So is jogging, that doesn’t mean I’m going to do it.” She sighs and reclaims her coffee. “Okay, nice talk, I gotta go. See you in thirty.”
He catches her wrist, surprising her. “Seriously, Clarke. Are you guys okay? I usually hear at least a hint of what’s coming before one of these.”
“Maybe I’m getting better at my job,” she says, but she can’t keep up the coolness. She breaks and smiles at him. “We’re fine, Bellamy. Thanks for the coffee. And the banana.”
“And the muffin, you loved the muffin.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
*
It’s a long rest of the day. Wells discovered a lot of shady shit his dad was involved in before his death, during his presidency, shit that involved Clarke’s mom, among other people, and breaking the news feels personal in a way that she doesn’t quite understand. It’s not like it’s their scandal, and they’re doing the right thing, but she can’t help it. She thinks it’s that it feels like her opinion as a person matters, in addition to her opinion as a member of the second Jaha presidency, and she has no interest in dealing with that.
It doesn’t help that Bellamy, after the press conference, is surprisingly absent, which makes her feel itchy under her skin, like he thinks she fucked up or something. He asked a few questions during the conference, but when she’s out of her eleven-o'clock meeting, he’s nowhere to be found, and it makes her feel hollow.
He’s not back until 4:30, but he does have a sandwich.
“At what point did we decide I can’t feed myself?” she asks.
“Wells called me last night to fill me in.”
Clarke stares. “But you didn’t–”
“I didn’t break it,” he agrees. “He didn’t call because he was giving me an exclusive. He was worried about you.” There’s another pause, and then he says, “I quit my job.”
Clarke chokes. “When?”
“Three days ago. Wells knew, which is probably why he called me. I’m staying on until the end of the month to train the new kid, tie up loose ends, etc.”
“I feel like I missed half this conversation. Are you–you’re not leaving DC, are you?”
He grins. “Nope. I got a job at the Newseum.”
“The Newseum? Seriously?”
“What? The Newseum is cool.”
“You’re a Pulitzer-prize-winning journalist,” she points out.
“It’s a good job,” he says. “Kind of different, yeah. But if it sucks I can probably convince another newspaper to hire me. Or write another book. I’ve got options. But, yeah. I’ve got three more weeks at the Post and then I’m done.”
Clarke looks down at her hands. “I still feel like I’m missing something.”
“I thought you would be having a shitty day. And you don’t deal well with direct displays of affection, so I figured I’d just bring you coffee and pester you until you felt better.”
“And then you disappeared,” she says. It comes out accusatory.
“Like I said, I am theoretically training a replacement. I was teaching her how to trick Myles into giving away state secrets.”
“Don’t you just ask him for state secrets and he starts talking?”
“You really need to work on your hiring process for interns, yeah.” He fishes out his phone and pulls up a text. Wells is, apparently, listed in Bellamy’s phone as PRESIDENT JAHA!! followed by a bunch of patriotic emoji. “Your boss says you are required to leave at five,” he continues, and Wells has, in fact, said that.
“You could have faked this text.”
“I could have. You still look like you haven’t slept in days, though.” He wets his lips. “And I think I owe you dinner.”
Clarke feels her heart in her throat. “Are we really doing this now?”
“I was going to wait, but, yeah. I’m kind of worried about you. The stuff with your mom can’t be easy. I won’t–” His eyes soften, and Clarke nearly leans in, except she’s still at work, and she’s a professional. But it’s very tempting. “I’m not looking for an exclusive here. I just want to help you.”
“You couldn’t have told me that this morning?” she grumbles.
“I didn’t want to distract you.” At her raised eyebrows, he finally falters a little, flushes. “I was hoping finding out I was quitting my job would distract you.”
“You didn’t quit your job for me, did you?” She has to ask. It feels important.
He shrugs. “Not just for you. The hours are better too.” He stands and stretches. “So, five? Dinner’s on me.”
“You bought breakfast and lunch,” Clarke says, smile tugging on her mouth. “I can cover dinner.”
She can tell he’s trying not to smile too hard, and it makes her heart flip. She knows the feeling. “Okay,” he agrees. “It’s a date.”
Oh man. WHEN PINTO HAPPENS TO GOOD PEOPLE. It is a rabbit hole from which there is no escape.
How did I go from 'haha, I am mildly amused by these dudes in the occasional GIFset I see' to 'urgent need to read seshual items regarding their entire situation'???
I. Important Moments of Your Reading LifeThere was a period when I was in school that I just started hating reading, because I was doing it SO MUCH for class. I think the moment I learned to enjoy reading for pleasure again was an important one.
O. One Book That You Have Read Multiple TimesJUST ONE? I think the first book I read multiple times is probably Charlotte's Web.
U. Unapologetic Fangirl ForRegency Romances. IDGAF.
