Best Friends Forever Ch. 3
{Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} || {read on ffn} {read on ao3}
The elusive lazy Saturday rolled over into the even more elusive lazy Sunday – mostly. Clarke did keep her promise and kept up a consistent rotation of her laundry. Lincoln had ended up spending the entire night, but at some point he and Octavia had at least made it off the loveseat and into her bedroom. Clarke was thankfully not scheduled to work, and Octavia took her turn calling in sick. Bellamy worked on his lecture notes for about an hour in the morning, then abandoned all work for the rest of the day.
Octavia and Lincoln stayed holed up in Octavia’s bedroom all day. Six months into their relationship, Bellamy finally came to terms with it. Lincoln showed up at the house one evening to pick up Octavia for dinner. Bellamy leveled a hard stare at him, then sat him down in the living room and gave him The Talk. A few weeks later, they bonded when they chaperoned one of many girls’ nights. They followed Octavia’s orders that she and Clarke not be bothered, but the girls definitely felt better knowing someone was watching out for them in the sketchy dive bar they favored for their girls’ nights. The four of them spent more and more time together, and somewhere along the line, Lincoln became a part of the family.
Clarke and Bellamy lounged in the living room watching The Big Bang Theory most of the day. When the sun had almost set Bellamy, sitting cross-legged on the couch, picked up his phone to check his email during a commercial break, while Clarke took the opportunity to grab her last load of laundry from the dryer.
She dropped the basket of still-warm clothes onto the recliner with an annoyed groan, and Bellamy knew that she had given up folding laundry for the day. Those clothes would undoubtedly remain in the basket, which would migrate to the corner of her room and no farther, until everything in it had been worn again.
Clarke slid to the floor in front of Bellamy, arching her back against the couch, and leaning her head back against his knee. Bellamy glanced up from his phone. Clarke’s eyes were closed. The crease that showed up between her eyebrows when she was stressed had made an appearance, and the throbbing vein in the side of her neck told him that her blood pressure was elevated.
“What’s wrong, Clarke?” he asked quietly as he leaned toward her. His hands slid underneath her head and began to rub at the knots in her neck and shoulders. Clarke sat up straight in response and let her head fall forward.
“Just thinking.” It was barely above a whisper, but Bellamy knew her well enough to know that there was a lot more to it. He remained silent for a moment, certain that she would open up to him eventually as she always did. “My mom called me this morning.”
His hands stilled for only a second before returning to their task. His thumbs massaged circles at the base of her skull before kneading the muscles down her neck and across her shoulders. Back and forth; hard and soft. He didn’t ask about the phone call. He didn’t need to. Abby Griffin called her daughter a grand total of once a month. They both agreed it was better that way; they hadn’t been able to have any conversation that didn’t lead to an argument since Clarke started college, so they were trying to give each other their space. Abby called once a month to check in; usually Clarke was able to avoid fighting, but Abby always managed to get her digs in about all of Clarke’s life choices. Clarke took it like a trooper to keep the conversation civil, but it took her a couple days to recover.
Suddenly Bellamy was standing in front of Clarke, reaching down to grab her hand. She looked up at him with questioning eyes, and his only response was to tug gently on her hand and tilt his head toward the door with a grin on his lips and a gleam in his eyes.
Clarke stood and let him pull her toward the front door. Within seconds, Bellamy had his boots and coat on, and Clarke had just enough time to slip her shoes on and grab her coat off the hook before he was pulling her out the door. She shoved her arms into the sleeves quickly and had to quicken her pace until she was almost running down the drive to keep up with him.
“Bell, what are you doing?” He opened the passenger door of his pickup and waited for her to hop inside before shutting the door and jogging around to the driver’s side. He jammed the key in the ignition and backed out of the driveway. Clarke watched him from the corner of her eye as he drove. She recognized the twinkle in his eye that rarely made an appearance lately. He was always as busy as she was, and an overwhelming amount of stress had taken hold of them both.
They were out in the country. A few minutes’ drive from the suburb where they lived was all farmlands. The local farms kept the grocery stores and the college stocked with milk and fresh produce and provided hundreds of jobs to the community, most of which were filled by college students. Looking out her window, Clarke watched the fields roll past, foot-high cornstalks shriveled up in the cold and moonlight glistening on a dusting of snow that sparkled on the uneven ground.
Tugging her coat a little tighter around her, Clarke unbuckled her seatbelt and slid into the middle seat so she could rest her head on Bellamy’s shoulder. She closed her eyes against the dry warmth the vents were blowing directly into her face. Sitting here with her best friend as they drove along at a leisurely pace, she was able to let go all of her stresses. All of her worries, all of her responsibilities got pushed to the back of her mind. A calmness she hadn’t felt in months washed over her. As always, Bellamy knew exactly what she needed without her having to ask, and she thanked God for the hundredth time that weekend for sending her the most perfect best friend anyone could ask for.
Bellamy kept his eyes on the road, but his mind was on the girl leaning against him. He thought of the night he met a little blonde ten-year-old at a skating rink. He thought of the night he took her to her senior Homecoming dance and he started to see her as a woman instead of a girl. He thought of the nights in France during a school trip when he would sneak up to the hotel rooves with Clarke and Octavia so they could see the cities lit up under the glowing moon. He thought of the first night Clarke spent at his house as a resident rather than a guest when they fell asleep together on the couch in the wee hours of the morning after an hours-long marathon of a docuseries, which would quickly become a tradition. He thought of Abby’s wedding when he would’ve told anyone that the beautiful Maid of Honor had definitely upstaged the bride. He thought of the night he gave her douchebag ex-boyfriend one hell of a makeover. And that’s when it hit him that somewhere along the line, Clarke had become more than his little sister’s best friend, more than his best friend, and more than just another part of the family.
They had been driving slow enough to begin with, but when Clarke felt Bellamy tap on the brakes, she opened her eyes just in time to see a No Trespassing sign disappear behind them as Bellamy made a right onto a dirt road between two illuminated cornfields. The truck rumbled over the bumpy road for a couple miles, until Clarke recognized her surroundings. Bellamy turned the truck in a half-circle and pulled to a stop a few yards from the riverbank.
Bellamy opened his door, and Clarke dragged her head off his shoulder so he could get out. She slid the rest of the way across the seat and hopped out after him, one of her hands clasped in his for balance. They settled on the tailgate, sitting on one of two blankets that Bellamy had grabbed from the truck bed and huddled together in the second. A quarter mile across the river at the small county airport, a Piper plane sat ready to board half a dozen people and take them to what Clarke could only imagine would be the kind of grand adventure she desperately needed.
It was almost half an hour of silence before either of them spoke.
Looking down at her boots peeking out of the blanket and hanging off the edge of the tailgate, Clarke spoke softly, not wanting to disturb the quiet serenity. “I think I’m about to be a big disappointment.”
Bellamy jumped a little, completely shocked at her words. His eyes fell down to her. “What could possibly make you think that?”
“I…” she paused and then looked up at the sky, letting her head fall back heavily. Her eyes rolled over to him and she sighed. “I’m not so sure about the direction my life is going right now.” Had she said this to anyone else, she would have been crushed by a reaction of silence. But this was Bellamy. Everything was different with Bellamy. She didn’t wonder if maybe he hadn’t heard her. She didn’t worry that he had taken her comment personally. She certainly didn’t fear that he was indeed already disappointed in her. She knew his warm silence was his supportive way of giving her a chance to process her thoughts until she felt ready to open up and continue.
“I think maybe… I think med school isn’t right for me.” Another beat of silence, then his arm curled around her and tugged her tighter into his side. She welcomed the warmth that was more than just his body heat fighting off the chill of the night air. “I want to change my major. Something in the arts.”
“You’re gonna have to try harder than that to make me disappointed in you, princess.”
“My mom-“
“You are going to do what is right for you, and your mom can fight me about it.” A small gasp escaped Clarke, and her head snapped up, fixing him with an intense stare. She had no doubts that Bellamy would support her, even if he had been disappointed, but his voice conveyed more than just support. Never had she heard him speak so firmly about anything relating to her mother.
Their eyes remained in a deadlock. The warm silence returned and settled over them. Clarke’s head tipped to the side in curiosity when she couldn’t recognize the look in his eyes that she’d never seen before. A thought flitted around the edges of her consciousness, but before she could grab it, the sound of a siren in the distance firmly dropped them back into reality.
“Shit,” he grumbled.
In five seconds, they had communicated an entire conversation with a single look. There were three words in Clarke’s eyes: run, adventure, free. Bellamy’s eyes told her exactly what she was hoping for: whatever the hell you want, princess.
They jumped down and Clarke ran to the front while Bellamy tossed the blankets into the back of the bed and slammed the tailgate. They climbed into the front and again Bellamy jammed the key into the ignition. He got off the dirt road as quickly as he could, and Clarke remained buckled into her seat on the passenger side as they flew over every bump and thudded into every pothole.
A sharp right turn at the edge of the cornfield put them on an old back road that was a straight shot into the next county, and Bellamy stepped a little harder on the gas. The adrenaline started to surge through their veins as they tried to put more distance between themselves and the police. Clarke urged Bellamy faster, faster, faster. The cops put up a good fight, but once the truck crossed the county line, Clarke and Bellamy were out of their jurisdiction.
The cab of the truck was suddenly filled with a sharp peal of laughter than began to shake Clarke’s entire body. The radio was blasting her favorite CD and the engine rumbled loudly in competition, but both were drowned out by Clarke’s laughter.
“You’re crazy as hell,” he said as laughter began to overtake him as well.
He pulled into the first place they came across and cut the engine. They were at an old bar appropriately called Bootleggers. Either it was a very sketchy joint that they should avoid at all costs, or it was a hidden gem that all the locals loved and kept as a secret from strangers.
Bellamy took her coat when they walked in and hung it by the door with his. “Looks pretty decent.” He didn’t even try to hide the surprise in his voice.
Clarke flashed him a grin before taking his wrist and heading for the bar. Bellamy ordered a beer, which Clarke immediately turned into an order for two. She downed hers before Bellamy was halfway through his.
A cold breeze caused Clarke to turn toward the door, where a tall brunette had just walked in. Her presence commanded the attention of the room, and Clarke started when the woman locked eyes with her. Clarke was unable to look away until she faintly heard Bellamy in her ear asking for a dance.
She snapped back to reality and accepted his offer. There were a dozen other people on the dance floor. The DJ switched the tempo and Clarke suddenly found herself line dancing. Bellamy was a good sport, but it was rocky at best as it was his first time line dancing. When the first song ended, Clarke ran back to the bar and knocked back a second beer. Or perhaps it was her third.
The music switched again, this time to a newer, more upbeat song with a decidedly seductive theme. A pleasant buzz was singing through Clarke’s veins. She wasn’t drunk, but she was clearly tipsy enough to have no second thoughts about grinding her ass into her best friend’s crotch as they danced. Bellamy’s one beer had not been enough to prepare him for this. Clarke hadn’t let loose like this since her twenty-first birthday, but even then she never danced with him like this. When the song ended, he guided Clarke to a barstool and excused himself to the bathroom.
It was then that the brunette slid up beside Clarke and ordered them each a shot. Clarke thanked the woman but left hers sitting on the bar.
“I’m Lexa,” the woman said. Her voice was raised, but she didn’t have to yell like Clarke had to. Her voice projected confidently and carried itself over the music.
“Clarke.”
Lexa leaned over the bar and grabbed a pen that was sitting on a server’s pad. She scribbled a phone number on Clarke’s napkin. After pressing a kiss to the corner, she slid it into Clarke’s hand with a wink then walked away seconds before Bellamy was back at Clarke’s other side.
“Everything okay?” he asked her. She flashed him a smile and pulled him back onto the dancefloor.
Two dances in, they were interrupted by a man who bested Bellamy by two inches, fifty pounds of muscle, and an armful of tattoos. He asked Clarke to dance and that’s when Clarke and Bellamy found out the man did not handle rejection well.
For the second time in his life, Bellamy punched a man for Clarke. This one was considerably larger than the last man he punched; he was considerably larger than Bellamy himself. Still, somehow Bellamy managed to make his first shot a good one. He was quick and the man fell back a couple steps, blood beginning to run out of his nose.
Bellamy’s hand was trying to shake the pain from his knuckles. In an instant Clarke was in front of him, pushing against his chest. He understood immediately and took her by the hand. They ran off the dancefloor, tearing their coats off the hook on their way out the door.
They tugged their coats on as they ran across the parking lot. They tore their doors open and jumped inside. This night was getting a little out of control, and Bellamy knew there’d be hell to pay before all was said and done, but when Clarke looked at him from across the truck with a come-and-get-me grin, he threw the truck into gear and they flew down that old country road, back the way they came.
Shortly after they crossed the county line, the sirens returned, and red and blue lights flashed in the rearview. Bellamy sighed and pulled over.
The officers had Clarke and Bellamy get out and wait by the back of the truck. Bellamy looked over at Clarke, about to apologize when he was struck by how beautiful she looked with the blue lights flashing in her blonde hair and a look of freedom in her eyes that he hadn’t seen in a long time. His heart was beating wildly, and he knew it wasn’t from the possibility that he had landed them both in jail.
Officers Miller and Pike were not in good moods when they returned to the rear of the truck where Bellamy still stood with his eyes glued on Clarke. Officer Pike informed them that Bellamy had been driving more than double the speed limit, and Clarke’s almost-drunken sassiness did not go over well. Her behavior prompted a breathalyzer and a field sobriety test, both of which Bellamy passed with flying colors. He’d kept it to one beer back at Bootleggers as he knew he’d be driving them home, and thankfully that had almost completely worked out of his system.
Regardless of his obvious sobriety, Clarke’s mouth seemed unable to stop, and she began trying to sweet talk their way out of trouble. The sweet talking went over about as well as her sassing had, and they quickly found themselves locked in handcuffs and ducked into the backseat of the cruiser while the officers stood outside radioing the station. Bellamy noticed Officer Pike writing something that was undoubtedly a speeding ticket.
“Sorry,” Bellamy blurted out, keeping his eyes off Clarke. Getting in trouble was not unexpected, but he definitely hadn’t thought they would end up cuffed in the back of a cop car.
She laughed. Bellamy didn’t know how he’d expected her to respond, but laughter definitely wasn’t it. She scooted over to the middle and knocked her should against his arm. “Don’t be sorry, Bell. This is exactly what I needed. Well, not this per se,” she referenced their current situation with a wiggle of her upper body. “But this whole evening. If anything, I’m sorry we-“
“No. Absolutely none of this is your fault.”
She shrugged and leaned against him. “Sucks that we’re probably in a lot of trouble, but thank you for this. I miss having wild adventures with you.”
It was at that moment, sitting with his wrists cuffed behind his back in a police cruiser just before dawn on a chilly January morning, that Bellamy realized he had fallen in love with his best friend.
“Me too, princess.” A wave of courage swelled through him and he leaned down to place a kiss to the top of her head. He lingered for a second, a strand of her hair tickling his cheek, but he jumped back quickly when the car door opened.
Officer Pike was noticeably perturbed while Officer Miller was clearly biting back a smile. Although Clarke’s breathalyzer had been past the legal driving limit, she hadn’t, in fact, been driving, and her sassiness with the cops had surprisingly been within the legal limit. Bellamy had undeniably been way over the speed limit, but he was sober and had fully cooperated with the officers’ requests. The police cruiser they had outrun earlier hadn’t gotten quite close enough to get any license plate information and consequently Pike and Miller were unable to prove that the speeding truck from hours ago was the same speeding truck currently parked on the side of the road.
They were released with no more than a warning and a speeding ticket that carried a very large fine. Clarke, having sobered up some while they waited in the cruiser, looked over the ticket after they had climbed back into the truck.
“I could try to sweet talk our way out of this,” she teased, thinking of her blatant failure at trying to sweet talk the cops out of issuing the ticket in the first place.
A smirk played at the corner of Bellamy’s lips and he chuckled.
The rest of the drive home was spent in complete silence, save for the radio playing softly. Clarke had returned to the middle seat and fallen asleep curled into his side. He wrapped his free arm around her shoulders, running his hand up and down her arm to keep her warm. He allowed himself a moment to let his earlier revelation really sink in. He loved Clarke. He was in love with Clarke. He didn’t know when it happened. He didn’t know how it happened. But he found himself thinking about what it would be like to kiss her, and he knew he was in trouble.
Was he willing to risk their friendship, the most important relationship in his life aside from that with his sister? He knew he would be crushed if he lost her friendship. Not that she would stop being his friend if she didn’t feel the same, but things would definitely be different. They couldn’t possibly continue to be as affectionate with each other as they’d always been. Things would get awkward as they both tried to keep their connection as strong as ever, but eventually it would be too much.
But what if she did feel something? Just the thought of the possibility caused a tug in his chest and once he pulled back into their drive and shifted the truck into park, he allowed himself to drop one more kiss to the top of her head before shoving all these swirling thoughts to the back of his mind.
Clarke’s eyes fluttered slightly and she vaguely registered that she was being lifted out of the truck and carried bridal style into the house. “Thanks, Bell,” she whispered, snaking her arms around his neck and laying her head against his shoulder.
The sun had barely risen, and he expected Octavia and Lincoln to still be asleep. But when he slipped through the front door and kicked his foot back to push it closed, the soft click was all it took to startle his sister awake from where she was dozing on the recliner that she had turned around to face the door. Her eyes snapped up to him but she stayed quiet so as not to wake Lincoln or Clarke.
Stepping lightly into Clarke’s bedroom, he managed to rouse her from sleep enough to tug her coat off, then he laid her back in her bed and pulled the blankets up to her shoulders. He lingered a moment, watching her sleep. He didn’t dare allow himself to kiss her forehead again. He was already too far gone and feeling a little dizzy from the swarm of emotions slamming through his chest.
He considered going out to the living room and facing Octavia, but decided against it. Going straight to his room was a much better idea. Unfortunately, his sister knew him too well, and he found her waiting outside his bedroom door.
“Not now, please, O,” he mumbled.
“Where have you been?” Her voice was an angry whisper. He felt bad for worrying her, but not bad enough to want to deal with it just yet. “I came out to see if you guys wanted to order pizza, and you were both gone. Which would have been bad enough in itself, but you didn’t leave a note, and maybe you didn’t notice, but both of your phones were sitting on the coffee table!”
He sighed, feeling rundown. “Please, O. I’m sorry, but please. I just need to go to bed.”
Something in his tone flipped her emotional switch from angry woman to concerned little sister. He made to step past her into his room, but she stepped quicker and blocked his path. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just had a long night.”
“Bellamy.”
“Octavia, I’m fine. Will you please let me go,” he begged.
“No. I’ve been worried sick about you two all night! The very least you can do is either explain to me where you’ve been or tell me what’s bothering you! You know damn well that if I snuck out with Lincoln-“
Her voice pounded through his head and without his brain’s consent his mouth opened to shut her up. “I’m in love with Clarke, okay?” His voice had risen in exasperation, and he prayed he hadn’t woken Clarke or Lincoln.
Octavia took a step back in shock, her back meeting his bedroom door. They locked eyes in silence for a moment, and Bellamy mentally kicked himself not only for saying anything at all, but for letting this be the way Octavia found out. He had only just realized his feelings himself two hours ago and had no intentions of saying anything to anyone for quite some time.
When Octavia finally spoke, all traces of anger were gone. “I know.” She reached up to lay a hand on the side of his face. “I love you, big brother, but you’re kind of an idiot.” There was only a tender affection for her older sibling in her voice and her eyes. “So what are you going to do about it?”
Bellamy let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and turned to lean against the wall beside Octavia. “Nothing.”
“Bell-“
“O,” his tone made it clear that he didn’t want to talk about it, so she didn’t press the matter. She just leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
“Well, don’t wait too long, okay? It’s already been too many wasted years,” she gave him a knowing smile that made him suspect she had been expecting this to happen. Maybe she’s known how he felt about Clarke all along. The three of them were so close, and Octavia had always been incredibly perceptive to what was going on in his mind.
Octavia returned to the living room and settled herself onto the couch with Lincoln, whose love for the raven-haired beauty showed even when he was asleep as he opened his arms to accommodate her. More than half asleep, he kissed her forehead when she was snuggled against him.
A square of white against the tan carpeting in the hallway caught Bellamy’s eye before he closed his door, and he bent down to pick it up. It was a napkin, most likely from Bootleggers. The name Lexa and a phone number were scrawled across it, and a woman’s red lipstick was kissed to the corner. It must have fallen out of Clarke’s pocket when he was carrying her to bed.
He groaned and pressed two fingers into his eyes. “Shit,” he said for the second time that night.
He crept into Clarke’s room and left the napkin on her nightstand. He kept his eyes off her, afraid of how his feelings would pummel him if he let his gaze fall on her blonde hair, on her peaceful smile, on her sleeping form.
Back in his room, he tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it into the corner of his room. He fell back onto his mattress and fought off the vision of Clarke, leaning against his truck with blue lights shining in her hair and reflecting in her eyes, that tore through his heart as he remembered the kiss-stained napkin. When sleep finally claimed him, it was fitful at best, but thankfully he didn’t dream of Clarke.
