For the sleepover thing, fmk for Murphy, Emori, and Anya? also I'm sorry to hear about the thing with your "friend" :( that sucks but know that we all love you<3
Thanks, Bridget <33
Fuck Anya Marry Memori (sister wives anyone?)Kill oh well, I guess there’s no one left.
I'm just going to say that IGAB is without a doubt, my all time favorite fic, and it's such a wonderful and emotion filled story, and you are super talented and I'm so proud of you for working as hard as you have been to write it❤️ I have literally laughed and cried with this story and it completely sucked me in from the very beginning😊 I have two questions though: 1- is Calypso actually real in this story? Bc I feel like Leo is stringing me along too😂 2- did Percy ever tell Thalia to call?😂
Ooh for the prompts thing Bellarke + I unknowingly drank the spiked eggnog and am more than a little tipsy ?
Bellamy hadn’t liked Clarke Griffin when she first showed up; no one had. Consultant is a bullshit job to begin with, and theirs is fresh out of college with absolutely no life experience and no idea of how their company works. He has no interest in some perky blonde kid telling him how to do his job, or, even worse, telling him he can’t do his fucking job. Everyone knows the only reason management brought a consultant in to begin with is that they wanted to fire people without getting blamed for layoffs themselves. It’s like back when he was in elementary school and some kid wouldn’t like what he was doing, but instead of just asking him to stop, they went and told the teacher. It just makes everything worse.
But over the past few months, Bellamy has found he kind of likes Clarke. They put her in the cubical next to his, and she’s kind of fun. She’s obsessed with brightly colored post-it notes and swears under her breath all the time about how shitty their internal software is. It’s endearing. Plus, she’s smart and sarcastic and so prickly that he can’t help finding it cute. Not that he blames her for her prickliness; she’s an external consultant who’s making a list of people to fire, and everyone else still hates her. But it’s not her fault. She’s a messenger, and the company is paying her to get shot. He honestly feels a little bad for her.
So when she shows up at the company holiday party and Murphy says, “Fuck, she’s got a lot of nerve,” Bellamy just rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, how dare she show up to a company party she was invited to. Don’t be a dick, Murphy.”
It’s impossible not to notice she looks good, too. Part of him still feels like she’s so young, his sister’s age, but the rest of him is forced to acknowledge that his sister is old enough to be a real person, and so is Clarke.
“She’s a fucking consultant. She’s probably going to fire you.”
“She’s going to make recommendations and the company will decide if they’re going to fire me,” he says. “Leave her alone.”
Murphy scoffs, and Bellamy leaves the conversation, mostly because Murphy is actually a dick all the time and he has no desire to interact with him, even leaving aside the Clarke thing.
She’s talking to Cage Wallace, a brittle smile pasted on her face, and Bellamy wonders if there’s any way for him to save her. Even if he did hate her, no one deserves to have to talk to Cage Wallace.
So he snags a couple cups of eggnog and goes over, giving her a friendlier smile than he probably ever has before, like they’re close. “Hey, sorry for interrupting, I saw you didn’t have a drink.”
Her returning smile is bright and seems genuine. “Bellamy! Hi, thanks.”
Bellamy has been working here for longer than Cage has and knows more than Cage does, and Cage basically hates him for it. The feeling is mutual. “Bellamy,” he says, with a curt nod. “I didn’t know you knew Clarke.”
Everyone knows Clarke, but pointing that out is probably needlessly combative, given it’s a party and Cage is his boss. “Yeah, we’re deskmates.”
“How’s your sister, by the way?” Clarke asks, and it’s takes real effort for him to not gape. But he manages to just smile as Clarke adds, “Sorry, Cage, I went to college with his sister, we haven’t gotten to talk in a while. Hard to catch up at work.”
“Of course. I’ll find you later.”
“Please don’t,” she mutters, making Bellamy smile into his drink.
“Did you actually go to college with my sister, or was that just some lucky bullshit?”
“Octavia, right? We had a class together my last semester. We’re not best buddies or anything, but I saw she was a mutual friend when I was Facebook-stalking you.” She flushes and takes a long drink of her eggnog. “I maybe shouldn’t have pre-gamed this.”
“You pre-gamed this?”
“I did two shots with my roommate because everyone who works here either hates me or is an asshole or both.”
He considers this, taking a drink from his own cup. She’s not wrong, but he’d kind of hoped she didn’t know. Just for her sake. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”
She flashes him a rueful smile and toasts him with her drink. “Thanks for the rescue, though.”
“No problem. No one should have to talk to Cage.”
She finishes the eggnog and sighs. “I’m definitely going to have to eventually. But feel free to rescue me any time. And say hi to Octavia for me.”
He figures it’s a good sign she doesn’t want to hang out with him, which is kind of a letdown, but he tries not to let it get to him. He is, after all, kind of an asshole. But he would have liked to talk to her about O, or herself, or–anything, honestly.
He frowns at the eggnog; it doesn’t taste that spiked, but Miller made it, and Miller has never met a drink he doesn’t spike. And he’s great at masking it. So that’s probably why he’s watching Clarke’s hair as she walks away.
“How much rum is in the eggnog?” he asks, sidling up to Miller.
“Enough.” He considers Bellamy. “Which reminds me, Murphy’s got your consultant girlfriend pounding them like it’s her job.”
There’s a lot wrong with that sentence, but Bellamy focuses on the most relevant part. “Where?”
Miller jerks his head, and Bellamy sees Murphy and Anya talking to Clarke. Clarke looks to be drinking primarily as a defense against having to talk to them, for which he can’t blame her. Murphy is a dick and Anya hates the entire company generally and Clarke especially.
“Fuck,” he says. “You couldn’t have helped her out?”
“I’m bartending. And she’s not my consultant girlfriend.”
“You could have cut them off.”
Miller shrugs, and Bellamy flips him off, grabs another drink of his own, and makes his way over.
“So, tell us more about Cage,” Murphy is saying, and Clarke is glaring at him.
“Hey, Clarke, we didn’t get to talk about Octavia at all,” he says, glaring at Murphy even harder than Clarke is.
“Blake–” Murphy starts, and Bellamy shoves the drink at him.
“Enjoy,” he says. “Clarke, I need you over here.”
“Hey, Bellamy, you’re back,” she says, grinning.
She seems more tipsy than actually drunk, so maybe she’s not as badly off as Miller thought. And she seems happy, that’s a nice bonus.
“I’m back,” he says. He gives Murphy a hard look; Anya’s already wandered off. “What class were you and O in?” he asks, pointed.
“Shakespeare’s comedies.”
“She liked that class.”
“Yeah, it was awesome! I know Shakespeare is kind of–everyone likes Shakespeare. But he can be really cool, you know? And bisexual. Bisexuals represent.”
Bellamy smiles. “Bisexuals represent,” he agrees. “How much eggnog did you have?”
“I don’t know, three? Who cares?”
“You know there was booze in those, right?”
There’s a pause, and then she says, “Ohhhhhh,” like someone is letting air out of her. Bellamy muffles a smile. “That explains a lot. Murphy was like, have more, have more! It seemed weirdly nice, for him.”
“Yeah, no, he was probably trying to get you fired.”
“And you’re not?”
“Why would I be trying to get you fired?” he asks, frowning.
“You hate me. I’m some–” She gestures. “I’m a consultant, I’m going to gut your company.”
“Not my company. And if you fire me, the whole place is going to fall apart, so–”
“You’re not getting fired,” she says. “Not if they listen to me, anyway. But I assume they’ll just do whatever they want and blame it on me once I’m gone.”
“God, I thought you were a happy drunk,” he teases, and she smiles.
“I just wish you didn’t hate me.”
“I don’t.”
“Really?”
“No. You’re fine.” She still looks unconvinced, so he sighs. “Come on, let’s get some air. It’ll sober you up.”
She glances around, spots a plate of cookies, and grabs it. “I’m coming,” she says. “But these will also sober me up, right? Carbs.”
He snorts. “Uh huh. Sure they will.”
It’s cool, but not cold, outside–Bellamy’s from Maine, and as far as he’s concerned, DC winters just aren’t anything to worry about. But Clarke’s wearing a sleeveless dress, and she shivers a little, so he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over her shoulders.
“I figured you had me down as an asshole, not hating you,” he offers, conversational.
“On my good days,” she says. She draws the jacket around herself. “But then I said I was Facebook-stalking you, I figured that would freak you out.”
He snorts. “Everyone Facebook-stalks these days. I don’t even notice.” He takes one of the cookies. “You should have told me you knew O. Or told her you know me. She would have told you I’m not a total asshole.”
“I know you’re not.” She starts to giggle, which is mildly alarming. “Cage is a total asshole. I’m going to tell them to fire him.”
Bellamy finds himself smiling. “He’s the boss’s son. They’re not going to fire him.”
“They should, though. They hired me to tell them what to do with the business, and I’m telling them. Fire Cage, pay you more.”
“Me specifically?”
“Everyone at your level. But yeah, you specifically. You’ve been here for almost ten years, you’re smart and capable and hard-working, and honestly, you should probably be looking for a better job somewhere they’ll appreciate you.”
He laughs. “I hope you weren’t telling Murphy any of this.”
“Murphy’s lucky to have the job he has.” She flushes. “So am I. God, I can’t believe I got drunk at the company Christmas party and hit on my hot coworker. Could I get any more cliche?”
“When did you hit on your hot coworker?” he asks, frowning.
“I’m still working on it,” she says. There’s a flush on her cheeks. “I figured I’d just Facebook-stalk him until my contract was up. So it’s not morally weird.”
Bellamy’s heart skips a beat. “When is your contract up?”
“Sometime in January.”
“Well, send me the exact date. I’ll check my calendar.”
*
The next morning, he’s got a Facebook friend request from Clarke Griffin, and when he confirms it, she messages him, January 8. Thanks for looking out for me last night.
No problem. Free for dinner that night? I’ll bring eggnog. he replies.
