The year 2011

Breathing heavily she laid on top of his chest, sweating from the bliss she was slowly coming down from, the rhythm of his heartbeat calming her little by little. He was slowly caressing her back, still laying on the couch with her on top of him. They both knew that they would have to talk eventually, but they were both trying to ignore that. Until Clarke finally decided to speak.

"What time does she get home?"

"We still have about forty-five minutes," he pulled her closer into a hug, kissing the top of her head. She looked up, smiling a halfhearted smile towards him. He could see a spark of sadness in her eyes. He glanced at her, asking what's wrong with his eyes.

"What are we doing?" Clarke asked, the question hang between them for a minute, but it seemed longer. He pulled her into his chest again, his hand wrapping in her hair. It didn't answer the question, but to be honest Bellamy didn't know how to react. He was the one not making a decision. Like always, she was the one who knew what she wanted.

"Bell," she mumbled against his chest, still waiting on the answer. He pushed her off of him a little so he could sit up straight, placing his back against the backrest of the couch. Clarke remained on his lap as she looked at him questionably.

"You know I like you," he kissed her nose, "I like this," he nodded down at her body, gripping it a little tighter, "and what we just did," he stopped then, as he was trying to think of what to say. His brows furrowed. He didn't know what it was what they were doing, he just knew he didn't want it to end.

"You have a girlfriend…" she said, with a small voice. He nodded, not really knowing what to say to that. "I'll never be number one, will I?" she asked, her voice shaking a little, removing herself from his lap to grab her bra and panties from the floor. She started dressing, ignoring his eyes on her.

"You will always," he stood up, planting his hands on her shoulders, kissing the crook between her shoulder blades, "be number one…". She shook her head, a tear trailing down her cheek.

"But I am not your girlfriend," her voice sounded broken this time, as she laid her head back against his shoulder. "You deserve better," he answered truthfully, "and I need us to stay us, I don't want to lose you," he hugged her from behind. They didn't speak after that. They dressed themselves, Clarke still wiping the tears from her eyes now and again. Bellamy didn't know if this was the right thing to do, but he did know he would not lose her. Not like this. They could keep this up, he could keep this up. Gina would never know. And Clarke could find someone better than him, someone suited for her. Someone who made her smile.

Present

"Excuse me," a little boy with freckles and dark curls pulled at Clarkes shirt. She looked at the boy, not really placing why he looked so familiar, probably because of the moonshine she had been drinking all evening. It was like Roan was trying to get her drunk. Luckily, he made sure Chloë was kept busy. Smiling down at the little boy, who probably was about the same age as Chloë, she nodded for him to talk.

"I really like your curls," his face coloring pink at the statement. Chuckling at the blunt statement, she ruffled her hand through his untamed black curls. "I like yours too," she admits, smiling sweetly at the little boy. Who knew even little boys could be such gentlemen's. Roan coughs, gaining her attention, a cautious look in his eyes. Clarke just winks at him, not realizing what she's doing wrong, or what makes Roan so cautious about the little boy with the black curls and sweet freckles. And that's when the realization hit her, he looks exactly like him.

"Mommy, can I go play?" Chloë interrupted her thoughts, and Clarke just nods to her little girl. She quickly realizes that the little boy also left their presence, just as sudden as he had stood next to her.

"He looks just like him…" she whispered towards nobody in particular. Her eyes flashing to Roan, who looks at her with a glint of remorse in his eyes, "is he…" while nervousness started creeping into her veins she started to look around, hoping to cast a glimpse of the guy she once knew like the back of her hand.

"Clarke," Roan almost whispers, putting his hand on hers, "maybe we should go…?"

"No- let's just, I don't know," she looks back at Roan, blinking rapidly and cursing the uneasiness that settles in her stomach, "we can stay, just… let's try not to run into him. I can't deal with that right now. Nobody even knows I'm back," her voice becoming more and more unsteady as she finishes her sentences.

"Okay, I'll get the check, we can't avoid him, there's literally nobody in this place, accept for us and a dozen of others," he glances over at the waitresses, motioning for the check as one waitress catches his eye.

"Fine," Clarke bits out a little too harsh, looking apologetic the second she realized how mad she sounded. After a few minutes they walk out the door of the little restaurant, Chloë chatting away like nothing happened. It's such a blur in Clarke's head she doesn't even notice arriving home. Not until Roan pushes her knee en Chloë starts babbling about their new home.

"Thank you," she smiles from the passenger's seat to her new boss, "for bringing us to dinner and trying to keep him and everybody out of my way, at least for tonight,". With some effort she manages, even though she feels the moonshine making her a little dizzy, to get Chloë out of the backseat, the little girl still babbling while continuously rubbing her eyes. Whispering a goodbye, she watches Roan pull away and enters her new home.

The year 2010 – the start of it all

"Hey Bell…?"

"Hmpf,"

"I need an orgasm,"

He almost chokes on the coffee he is drinking, looking at Clarke over his newspaper to see if she is serious.

"Warn a guy will you," he exclaims, rolling his eyes at her, "What do you want me to do about that?" he asks then, more curious than ever where the conversation is going.

"I don't know, you know lot's of women and men for one night stands, maybe you can give me a number?" Clarke pulls the newspaper down a little further, cocking her head a little with a questioning look in her eyes.

"Hmm, I know this one guy," he starts, grabbing his phone, "here, call this number," he turns the phone towards Clarke, who is eagerly dialing the number he is showing on her own phone.

"Call him now, will you?" he says, mischievous glint in his eyes. She presses the green button and her phone starts calling. A name pops up on the screen. Before Bellamy can answer his phone she presses the 'End Call' button.

"Dick,"

"I am very disappointed you don't recognize my phone number, after all this time… I thought we were friends Princess," he sticks out his tongue, pushing his glasses a little higher on his nose and straightening the newspaper to start reading again.

A few minutes pass, before Bellamy gets a phone call. He answers without looking at the caller ID.

"So, were you serious?" Clarke's voice is a little questioning. He puts down his newspaper and looks at her, phone still in hand.

"I offered, didn't I?" Clarke puts her phone down before nodding her head slowly at Bellamy.

"This could work," she muses, "you get off, I get off and we both know it's not going to be anything more than fucking,"

"As long as we get some ground rules set up, I guess it could work,"

"Yeah?" Clarke still asks a little skeptical.

"Sure, just, you know… don't fall in love, just some fun between the sheets," Bellamy looks deadly serious, discussing the rules he made up in his mind, "and let's say, at least one orgasm each, every time we hook up?" Clarke laughs a little at that.

"You think you can actually get me there, Blake?"

"I will, no matter how long it takes," Bellamy sounds sure of himself. Clarke nods at that. She thrusts her hand forward across the table, almost spilling the coffee she deposited there, before she asked for Bellamy's help.

"Let's shake on it then," she smiles brightly, almost giddy, as Bellamy shakes on it.

"Let's say tonight, you take a ride, Princess," he grins at her, his eyes a little darker than Clarke ever saw. She nods again, putting her phone away.

"So, you want another coffee?" she asks, to change the subject.

Present

The next morning Chloë woke Clarke with her feet. She was laying across the mattress they had put down the day before, her feet in Clarke's face, her head on the hard floor next to the mattress. Clarke smiled and sighed, rubbing her temples a little. She knew she couldn't take liquor anymore. But the headache wasn't as bad as she thought it would be.

"Time to make breakfast," she whispered more to herself than at Chloë, slowly placing her baby's feet back on the mattress and slowly walking to the kitchen. It wasn't long after that Chloë woke up, scrambling to her feet and jumping up, running to the kitchen.

"Pancakes?" she asks, though the answer is clear, as Clarke puts new batter in the frying pan. Chloë hugs her from behind, before asking, "can I start on mine already?"

As Clarke settles Chloë on the mattress with a plate of pancakes, cut up into pieces, she starts making a list in her head of what to do in the weekend. A lot of things are unpacking and making sure they have an actual bed to sleep in, but there is also a phone call she wants to make. She wonders what he'll say, after all this time. If he still wants to see her. She sighs, smelling the batter in the frying pan a little burned because of her lack of concentration. Quickly she flips the pancake, thanking whatever god there is that it's not totally burned.

After breakfast she pulls Chloë's clothing out of the duffle bag she packed right before going on the road with some clothing for her and Chloë and basic stuff like some cookies to eat, her phone charger and a book.

"I got to call someone, can you wait here. I'll let you have the ipad?" she grins at her daughter, as she knows it will keep Chloë busy as she is making the phone call she dreads. It isn't long before Chloë is launching on the mattress they slept on, ipad in hand, playing angry birds. Clarke decides to make the call in the kitchen, needing some privacy.

After dialing the number of the last time he called her, six months ago, she bites her lower lip nervously, fidgeting with the shirt she slept in.

"Clarke, how is everything?!" Monty exclaims happily. She hears a women's voice in the background, asking who it is. A little frown takes over on her face, all nervousness suddenly forgotten.

"Is that a girl I hear in the background, my favorite Asian?!" Clarke asks curious, already imagining the blush currently on Monty's face.

"I may have found the one, Clarke," he answers her, after she hears a door close on the other end of the phone.

"Well, then I guess I have to come by to make sure she knows what will happen to her if she breaks your heart, now won't I?" she asks with a smile, "I don't know when you have town, but I'm in town for… I don't know, at least as long as my contract with Arkadia's art gallery…" Clarke can't even end the sentence before Monty's screaming in her ear.

"You're back, you're back, god… you're back?!" he yells excitedly, "how, when, why? And damn it, why are you just saying this now?! I haven't spoken to you in like- half a year or something…," he almost sounds accusatory, "can we lunch together?!" he ends his rambling.

"I guess… I'm glad you're excited Monty," Clarke giggles a little, imagining Monty jumping around in the room he is standing in. She knew Monty would be the easiest to talk to. Though she wouldn't know why any of the girls would not be happy to hear from her. But that's something to think about later.

"Let's meet at your house, okay?" she asks. As she gets the address she wishes everything would go as easy as the conversation with Monty. Short and simple. It could go that way, right?