When it comes to Clarke, Bellamy likes labels.

At first she was the girl down the street, a playmate of his kid sister. Octavia would tear through the house at warp speed while Clarke followed daintily after her. A preteen Bellamy christened her 'princess' for the way she would hold up her skirt, carefully stepping over toys and books left in her friend's wake.

When she beat him in the county spelling bee, a smug look on her royal face, he went over to congratulate her.

"Who knew you were so smart, Princess?"

"It's Clarke. C-L-A-R-K-E."

Clarke and Octavia were working on their high-school science fair project– or rather, Clarke was working and Octavia was busy choosing the best color for their tri-fold board. Clarke touched the wrong two wires together and gave herself a small shock.

Hearing her yelp, Bellamy went into the kitchen to investigate. His worried expression dissolved into laugher when he saw Clarke's hair sticking up in all directions, a pair of safety goggles sliding down her nose.

"Nice work, Einstein."

He barely dodged the shoe that Octavia threw at him on his way out.

Octavia, home from college for the summer, munched on cereal one morning while flipping through photos on her phone. Bellamy looked over her shoulder as he passed by.

"Is that Einstein?" he asked.

"You mean Clarke?" Octavia admonished him as she paused on the picture of the two girls at the beach. "She came and visited me at UCLA. She's actually coming by later."

When Bellamy got home from work, he found Octavia and Clarke laughing on the porch, a couple of Coronas in their hands.

To distract himself from Clarke's long, tan legs, he said, "I didn't know you were old enough to drink beer, Princess."

Octavia scowled at him but Clarke just laughed. "Your sister's a bad influence. She dragged me away from my med school applications. Speaking of which" – she stood and kissed Octavia on the cheek – "I need to get back home and do a little more work tonight."

Bellamy found himself half hoping that she would kiss his cheek, too, on her way down the stairs, but she just touched his arm briefly, so lightly that he thought he might have imagined it.

He and Octavia watched as she walked down the street and slipped around the corner, the late afternoon sun catching her golden hair.

"She was a good friend to me after Mom died, Bell," Octavia said. "You should get to know her."

He thought she was being cheeky but when he turned to look, her face was wistful.

"Octavia said that I should get to know you," Bellamy said in between kisses.

"Oh, yeah?" Clarke murmured, clearly more interested in getting his shirt off than talking.

"Yeah, and now that you're back in the area for med school" – he paused to suck her earlobe into his mouth – "I have the perfect opportunity."

"Bellamy?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

The first time Bellamy called Clarke 'lover,' she burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" he asked, bewildered.

"It just sounds so cheesy. 'You're so beautiful, Lover,'" she mimicked before collapsing into the pillows in another fit of giggles.

Bellamy waited until she composed herself. "How about another name?"

"Carlos, how are you? Merry Christmas!" Bellamy greeted his colleague and tugged his date forward. "This is my girlfriend, Clarke."

"Clarke, how nice to meet you." Carlos shook her hand and smiled warmly. "I didn't know Bellamy had a girlfriend."

Clarke grinned. "We just made it official. But if all the company parties are like this one" – she held up her fancy peppermint cocktail – "you're going to be seeing a lot of me."

Later, in the car, Clarke told him, "You said it seventeen times."

"What?"

She leaned over and licked his earlobe. "Girlfriend."

He swallowed audibly but kept his eyes on the road. "Did you like it?"

"Mmmhmm. Wanna feel how much?"

"You've been dating for three years, Bell!" Octavia fumed. "Just make me an aunt already!"

Bellamy didn't look up from the coffee he was pouring. "Clarke hasn't been assigned a residency. And we're not married yet."

His sister tapped her foot. "Best laid plans, yada yada yada."

"Octavia, did you even read that poem?"

She rolled her eyes. "I was a psych major."

After a long day at the hospital, Clarke stood in Bellamy's kitchen as he cooked dinner. He had told her to relax, but she paced back and forth in front of the table.

He glanced up from the pot on the stove. "What's bothering you, Clarke?"

She marched over to him and switched off the burner. She had on her serious face, eyebrows pulled together, mouth turned down at the corners, hands on her hips. "Will you marry me?"

Bellamy's eyes widened. "What?"

"Will you? Because they're going to assign me somewhere soon, and I want you to go with me, and if you're my husband" – at this word Bellamy blanched – "you will, right?" She stopped to suck in a breath.

"Clarke, we talked about this. We were going to wait until—"

"I don't want to wait. What if there's no time to plan a wedding after I start my residency? And what if we just keep putting it off? I'm a doctor, Bellamy – I know what will happen to my ovaries."

Bellamy shook his head, at once amused and incredulous. "This is not how I planned it."

"Who cares?" Clarke grasped the sides of his shirt. "Marry me."

He kissed her, the risotto long forgotten.

Princess. Einstein. Lover. Girlfriend. Fiancée. He's been saving the best for last.

The church bells clang loudly as Bellamy and Clarke stand facing each, dressed in black and white, respectively.

The priest smiles indulgently as he waits for the ringing to subside.

"I now pronounce you man and" – Bellamy runs his thumb over Clarke's ring finger and mouths the last word while staring directly into her eyes – "wife."