Note: I wanted to write some Bellarke, but the show is a total angstfest, which hurts me too much to write … so, modern AU! There's a bunch of fake relationship fics, but that's my favorite trope, so I'm writing it anyway!

The important thing to note was, it wasn't her fault. She didn't even mean to do it.

Seriously, like the last thing Clarke Griffin ever wanted to do was pretend to be Bellamy Blake's girlfriend.

Not that she didn't like him. Honestly, they had been getting along great lately despite their rough beginning. She and Octavia had been best friends since high school, but something about O's older brother had just rubbed her the wrong way, and the feeling was entirely mutual. Even when the girls had become roommates in college, Clarke avoided spending any time with the elder Blake unless she was forced. The few times she tried to be nice, thinking maybe they could start over, he would just call her "Princess" in that arrogant tone or say something demeaning that would have her in the stratosphere, she was so angry. Nobody could push her buttons like Bellamy.

Everything changed the night she'd come home from work and found Octavia's asshole boyfriend Atom, drunk, armed with a knife and banging on the door to the bathroom, where O had barricaded herself.

If she'd been smart, Clarke would have run away and called 911. Instead, she got pissed off, grabbing the closest heavy object she could find — hello, cast iron skillet — and introducing Atom to it, up close and personal.

Bellamy had alternated between being enraged that Atom would do that to his sister and impressed that Clarke had taken him out, and they'd both taken great enjoyment in watching Atom be arrested at the hospital after he'd been treated for a concussion.

So, yeah, after that incident, Bellamy and Clarke had bonded over their admittedly overprotective hovering over his little sister. He still called her "Princess" sometimes, but there was a certain fondness to it that had never been there before, and most of the time their insults to one another were a lot less venomous than in the past.

They became friends, even.

Unfortunately, the thawing in relations came with a bit of an unexpected side effect.

Turns out, when he wasn't being an epic douchebag, Bellamy Blake was really, kind of … okay, massively attractive.

That realization was only intensified when he had to sleep on their couch for three days when the power to his apartment building was on the fritz. She loved and hated the way he paraded around the apartment half-naked all the time, showing off acres of smooth, tan, touchable skin.

Suddenly, instead of wanting to put her fist in his face, Clarke wanted to put her face on his face … or other parts of her anatomy on his face, but she tried not to think of that too much and certainly never in his presence.

Suddenly, after years of not really getting what the big deal was about sex (it was fine, it scratched an itch, whatever), she was having almost constant fantasies about him. And not, like, your typical (well, her typical) assists in the masturbation department, but really detailed, embarrassingly dirty fantasies that popped up at the most inopportune moments. (Stuck in the middle of the most boring bio slide show of all time? Hey, why don't you imagine Bellamy is next to you in your crowded lecture hall, fingering you under the desk while your professor is droning on and on?)

She wanted to do things to him that she'd never wanted to do before, and she spent enough time imagining it that there were days she legitimately could not look him in the eye for hours afterward.

It was so stupid, but she couldn't help but wonder, what if he could read her mind?

She could easily imagine the arrogant smirk on his face. "Hey, Princess, I had no idea you had such a dirty mind! Any time you want to try that thing with your mouth, I'm here for that, just give me a call."

How about no.

So, all in all, pretending to be Bellamy's girlfriend was a terrible, terrible idea. Not just because he was Octavia's brother but because of the likelihood that she would slip up and humiliate herself due to the inescapable fact that she wanted to get her hands on his body almost as much as she wanted to breathe. Whoops, we're supposed to be pretending we like each other, was I not supposed to put my hand down your pants?

Bad, bad idea.

The worst.

And yet, the thing about Clarke was, she was as stubborn as a mule, and she could not stand to be told that she couldn't do something.

A fact of which Octavia was very aware.

So, really? It was all the Blake siblings' fault. When she'd come across the two of them discussing how awkward it would be for Bellamy to see his ex — and her new boyfriend— at the annual policeman's ball, Octavia had come up with the crazy idea for Clarke to pretend to be his girlfriend for the evening. Even though she immediately had rejected the stupid romcom movie idea herself, the fact that he'd let out a strangled "Clarke?" and had laughed — laughed harder than she'd ever seen, damn him — pretty much made her do it.

"Oh, please, Blake," she'd said haughtily. "You could not find a better fake girlfriend than me."

Bellamy and O had both frozen in place, and Clarke pretended she didn't see the annoying look of triumph on her best friend's face. Damn it, she should have known the whole thing was a plot by Octavia.

Bellamy raised his eyebrows and smirked at her. "Oh really?" he asked.

And that was the story of how Clarke Griffin's pride and big mouth — not to mention the worst, most annoying best friend in the world — got her in trouble yet again.

"Don't think I don't know whose fault this is," she told Octavia the next day. "I know you planned the whole thing."

"I have no idea what you mean," her friend said innocently, crunching her Froot Loops obnoxiously.

"You know exactly what I mean," Clarke said, pouring her own bowl of cereal. "'Oh, Bell, I have a great idea! You should tell Lexa that Clarke's your girlfriend, so she'll be jealous!' This is going to be the worst thing ever."

"What? Just because you want Bell's bod?"

"Octavia!"

She had never planned to tell O about her little obsession, but she forgot to take into account her inability to stop herself from babbling while drinking tequila. Thanks to her buddy Jose Cuervo, she found herself spilling all the dirty details — okay, thankfully not all the details, since her friend understandably cut her off somewhere between "God, I just want to do shots off his perfect abs, is that so wrong?" and the probably incoherent ramblings about what he could do with his long, lovely fingers.

O had sworn to forget everything she'd heard that night, but she'd been pushing Clarke and her brother together ever since. This was her least subtle move yet.

"Great plan, though. He can use me to get back with the girl he loves …"

"And you can use him in whatever filthy ways you want to until then," Octavia finished. "Face facts: You need to get laid, babe. It's been way too long since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Clarke winced at the mention of her two-timing ex. Before she could speak, though, their third roommate chimed in from the kitchen doorway.

"Yeah, let's not mention him," Raven Reyes said, hoisting herself up on the counter next to Octavia.

Clarke winced. Somehow Raven had managed to stay friends with jerkface cheater Finn Collins, but Clarke was so not on board with that plan. As far as she was concerned, both of them were better off as far away from him as possible. But for a long time, he'd been the only family Raven had had, so Clarke knew that gave her friend a different perspective on the situation.

"Anyway," she said forcefully, "what I'm trying to say is that I get what you're doing here, O. Bellamy's focused on getting Lexa back, I'm distracted by … you know, all the sexy distracting stuff … and you are free to do whatever you want. Or, should I say, whoever you want."

Octavia didn't deny it, shrugging. "Look, I know Atom turned out to be a jerk, but Bell just won't understand that Lincoln is different. He really cares about me."

"I don't dispute that," Clarke said. "But —"

"But nothing," Raven jumped in. "We all agree, Lincoln's a peach. What I want to know is what sexy distracting thing are you going to be distracted by? You guys actually agreed to her crazy plan?"

Raven, who had also been present for Clarke's embarrassing over-share, was already laughing her ass off even before Clarke answered.

"Guilty."

"You should have seen it," Octavia said, laughing, too. "Clarke said no —"

"Of course."

"And then Bell said no —"

"And laughed," Clarke added.

"And then you got pissed that he laughed and agreed to do it," Raven filled in. Yes, her friends knew her very well.

"Yup," Octavia said, popping the P in an annoying way.

"Well played, Blake," Raven said. "Shit, I owe you 20 bucks."

"Pay up, bitch!"

"I hate you," Clarke said. "I hate you both so much."

"You love us," Octavia argued. "You love me, for sure. I mean, I just ensured that you have a perfect excuse to get your hot little hands all over Bell. Bell in a tuxedo, even."

Yeah, like she needed that picture in her head. Or the one where she removed said tuxedo with just her teeth.

"Clarke wants the D," Raven said in a singsong voice.

"I hate that expression," Clarke griped.

"Note that she doesn't deny the accusation, though," O chimed in.

"I can't," she replied, groaning. "I want it. I want it bad."

"Don't blame you," Raven said. "I thought about it myself after … well, you know, with Finn. That man has a fine ass."

"I like his hands," Clarke said dreamily, imagining for the thousandth time just what he could do with them.

"Ugh, I'm out," Octavia interrupted, hopping down. "I mean, I'm glad for you and all, but that is still my brother we're talking about."

"Dude, just saying now, I want to hear every dirty detail," Raven told her quietly as Octavia headed for her room. "I'm in a bit of a dry spell myself, so I have to live vicariously through you."

"I am not sleeping with him," Clarke said. "I'm just pretending to be his girlfriend for a few hours. So that he can get back with the girl he loves."

"But … the D, Clarke." When Clarke shook her head, Raven nodded. "Yes. Get it, Clarke, get it for both of us. Take one for the team. I mean, hell, take it as many times as you can get, in every position you can think of."

"Raven!"

"Just saying, this is your opportunity, and you will kick yourself if you miss it. You know you want to."

And holy shit, did she ever.

"I'm innocent, officer!" Clarke said upon opening the door and finding Bellamy dressed in his uniform.

"I highly doubt that, Griffin," he said, leaning on the doorjamb.

"It's the truth," she insisted. Having X-rated fantasies about your best friend's brother might be sketchy, but it's not illegal. But you can cuff me if you want.

Wait, what?

The idea of being restrained had never done it for her before, yet the mental image of Bellamy handcuffing her to the bed — of being at his mercy — rushed through her body like a flashfire, and she knew she was blushing.

"Um, you just missed O," she said, stumbling slightly back and waving him into the apartment. "But she was just running over to pick up some milk, so she'll be right back."

"You okay, there, Princess?" She could hear him closing and locking the door behind them.

"Mmmm, yeah. Just, you know, sleep deprived" — sex deprived, more like. "Suffering from an excess of …" hormones … "caffeine."

She dropped into a spot on the couch, glaring at her textbooks as though it was their fault she'd put off studying too late.

"I'm, ah, I'm actually here to talk to you," he said, sitting in the chair across from her. At her questioning look, he shrugged. "I was just wondering if you really meant it the other night, about helping me out."

This was her chance to bail, and she should do it. If she had more than a single brain cell, she would back out. But being this close to the big brown eyes, the adorable freckles, the grab-worthy biceps …

"Of course I meant it," she said. "I've seen every Reese Witherspoon movie in existence; this will be easy."

"Great!" he said. "That's great. I thought, if you don't mind, maybe we could try a dress rehearsal before next weekend? I'm … if you're free tomorrow night there's a thing at The Ark. A retirement party for our captain, and she'll be there."

Clarke only knew the basics about Lexa; back when Bellamy had been dating her they had still kind of hated each other, and she'd avoided seeing him or talking about him as much as possible. Lexa was a cop like Bellamy, tough, smart and annoyingly beautiful. And now she was dating Marcus Kane, an older guy who was assistant district attorney.

"So, basically, you want me to lie to an entire bar full of cops?" she asked.

"Well, we'll lie as little as possible," he said with a laugh. "We should try to keep our story as close to the truth as we can."

"Okay …" She mused, tapping her pen against her knee. "Okay, fine. We've known each other for years, but recently we got drunk and banged, and everything changed."

He frowned.

"What?"

"A drunken hook-up? That's not very … romantic," he said.

"Romant — Oh pardon me, Nicholas Sparks, what did you have in mind?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe we've known each other for years, and I always … I liked you but wasn't exactly happy about it, so I was kind of an asshole. And then we became friends anyway, and I finally decided to ask you out."

He was staring at the pile of books on the coffee table, avoiding her eyes, but he almost sounded like he meant it. But that, of course …

"That's … ridiculous," she said over the roaring in her ears. She wasn't honestly sure if she was referring to his story itself or the fact that her heart was suddenly doing its damnedest to beat out of her chest. It was just a story. Just. A. Story. "Nobody would believe that."

"Clarke —" He scooted as far forward on the chair and he could, leaning closer to her, but whatever he was going to say was lost as his sister came barreling through the door.

"I almost had to fight a guy for this milk," she said. "Like, I'm PMSing, and I need my hot chocolate, man. Do not screw with me. Hey Bell!"

"O."

"Okay," Clarke said, narrowing her eyes at Octavia. This whole awkward conversation could be blamed on one person. "We compromise. Our story is … we've —"

"Known each other for years," he said, smirking.

"Yeah, we got that part down for sure. Then one night we were supposed to do something with O, but she stood us up to be with Lincoln."

"What?" Bellamy snapped.

"Clarke!" Octavia objected.

"She abandoned us to get in Lincoln's pants," Clarke continued on maliciously (if Octavia was going to throw her into the line of fire, she'd have to deal with getting a bit crispy herself), "And we decided to hang out anyway. You realized how awesome I am, and I realized how … tolerable you are."

"Cute," he said.

"And we had way more fun than we expected, and then it was a thing."

"And then you did body shots off his 'perfect abs'," Octavia added nastily.

"What?" Bellamy asked again.

"Never. Mind," Clarke growled, glaring at her roommate. I'll never tell, my ass.

O smiled sweetly at them both. "Never mind, Bell. Do you guys want some hot chocolate? With whipped cream? You like whipped cream, don't you, Clarkie?"

Oh God. Had she mentioned the whipped cream fantasy, too? Judging by the evil grin on her friend's face, she totally had.

That was it. She was never drinking again. Well, she was never drinking tequila again. Jose Cuervo, we are never ever ever getting back together.

Like, ever.