Part 1

Clarke was enjoying her freshman year of college more than she'd expected. There had been so much pressure toward the end of high school –pressure from her teachers to be the best, pressure from headmaster Jaha to win the awards and scholarships that would give his school prestige, pressure from her mother to not feel like she had to be the best even though the subtext was that of course she should be anyway, even the pressure to date Wells (although it came from everyone but him) so they could be the school's power couple, the valedictorian and salutatorian, Prom King and Queen, all of that.

Now though, Wells was off at school in The Middle of Nowhere, North Dakota – his own self-imposed purgatory. And Clarke was here in DC, ostensibly alone but so very happy with the arrangement she barely cared.

Yes, there had been the horror of realizing the hot freshman she'd slept with during orientation was actually her new roommate's high school boyfriend. That had been a rough start. But Finn had transferred after the first few weeks, unable to cut it at such a competitive school, and now she and Raven were back to being pretty much okay around each other. It helped that they both kept crazy hours and only ever had free time on the weekends anyway. (Raven had asked for – and been granted, because she was some sort of genius – the right to declare her major early. Mechanical Engineering was her life. And Clarke… well, her mom had agreed to help pay for the big, expensive East Coast school if Clarke promised to go Pre-Med, so…)

"Hey Roomie, you in?" Raven called as she opened the door to their room after classes on Friday. It was a pointless question: the building was so old, and the rooms so small, they were basically sharing a cheerfully-yellow prison cell. There wasn't really anywhere to hide from each other, and yet they had gotten into this funny little "honey I'm home" shtick early on and now they couldn't shake it.

Clarke mumbled a greeting but otherwise didn't move from her place on the top bunk. She tried to look even more studious than usual. She knew Raven was about to insist they go out – it was the weekend – but Clarke couldn't keep giving in to her roommate out of guilt for the whole Finn thing. The school's core requirements were slowly sucking the life out of her, beginning with this damn history class. Partying did not fit into the long-term plan, and it certainly wasn't helping her short-term survival either.

"C'mon Clarke, say hello to our guest, won't you?" Raven continued. Her voice sounded unnaturally perky, and Clarke groaned to herself and lifted her gaze from the book. Prospective Students Weekend. Right. Okay, well, maybe they'd lucked out… although the look on Raven's face suggested she was skeptical.

"Hi, ...Octavia," Clarke said as she climbed down and peered at the nametag on the girl's chest. "You can take that off by the way."

"Oh, right, yeah," Octavia blushed prettily and peeled the sticker from her faded jean jacket. Clarke was fairly certain Octavia did everything in a pretty way. She was gorgeous, the kind of beauty you couldn't even hate because she herself didn't seem to notice. "It was so busy at the orientation I guess I forgot."

"It's fine. And you don't need to be nervous, either," Clarke assured her with a smile. "We don't bite. Well, I don't. Raven did punch a guy last week though." Raven rolled her eyes.

"It was Wick. That doesn't even count."

"Wow, poor guy! I'll be sure to pass on your message, Raven."

"I have no idea what any of that means," Octavia admitted, and Clarke laughed.

"It means Raven is terrible at flirting, that's all."

"Any big plans, newbie?" Raven interrupted with a mock scowl for her roommate, tossing her backpack onto the lower bunk. "It's Friday night. There are a couple good parties, if you're interested."

"Thanks, but my brother is a senior here, and he'd pretty much kick my ass if he found me at, like, a frat party or something. I'm supposed to meet him over at the pool in a while, actually. He has a swim meet tonight."

Raven grinned at Clarke. Swimmers, huh? Suddenly, the dark-haired freshman was a lot friendlier toward Octavia. Clarke bit back a groan, knowing exactly where this was headed. Raven seemed convinced there was only one good way for them each to get over Finn.

"We'll take you," Raven volunteered. Clarke tried to back out, pointing to the history book still sitting on her bed largely unread, but Raven – and eventually even Octavia – became almost belligerent. "You're no fun. Clarke, it's Friday night. Let's go get you laid!"

"Raven!" Clarke turned to Octavia apologetically. "That's not what college is about."

"For her," Raven clarified with a snort. "For the rest of us…"

Raven insisted Clarke wear makeup and a nicer outfit than sweat pants and a t-shirt. Clarke referred to it as getting tarted up, which annoyed Raven and brought an amused snort from Octavia. A fight over the sweater – and Clarke's absolute insistence on jeans – made them late for the meet. Octavia was quiet while they snuck in to the upper level of bleachers, but as soon as she realized they'd only missed the first race, she cheered right up. Clarke and Raven watched the competition haphazardly as they leaned against the railing, Raven mostly scouting out men for Clarke, Clarke rolling her eyes at each suggestion, especially when Raven – in a fit of pique – actually offered to set her up with Jasper Jordan. Octavia barely heard them; she was busy cheering for her brother whenever he was in the water. Which seemed to be an awful lot. Clarke and Raven eventually joined her just for something more interesting to do, and tried to figure out which of the sleek figures in the pool was related to Octavia.

"So. Bellamy, huh? That's kind of an unusual name," Raven pointed out during a break in the races.

"Said the girl named after a bird," Octavia shot back, but she sounded friendly, not mean, and Raven laughed approvingly.

"You said he's the captain?" Clarke asked, curious despite herself. She knew one or two of the freshmen on the swim team – Miller, for example, and Murphy – but she didn't think they had ever mentioned Bellamy. It was the kind of name she would have remembered: old-fashioned, nice-sounding.

"Mm-hmm," Octavia answered, distracted. "You know, I think he's pretty much done. There's just the 50-meter freestyle left, and that only ever takes a few seconds. Want to come meet him?"

"Sure," Raven shrugged. Senior guys had senior guy friends. That could be good for all of them. The girls traipsed downstairs to wait by the locker room entrance. Octavia pointed out Bellamy as he walked past, laughing at a joke one of his teammates had made. He was tallish but not gangly, with broad shoulders and narrow hips and... just... definitely not enough clothes on for Clarke's comfort. When he saw Octavia, he cut out of line to give her a long wet hug.

"I'm glad you made it, O." She squirmed out of his grasp with a grimace at the watery greeting, just as Miller paused by the door of the locker room.

"Hey Blake, you coming out tonight?" Blake, Clarke's numb brain finally kicked itself. Bellamy Fucking Blake, captain of the swim team. That's why she hadn't recognized the name. Oh my fucking god. Blake had… a reputation. Blake was absolutely everything she planned to avoid in college.

"I'm going to get dressed," he told Octavia, waving Miller off temporarily. "Wait right here."

And he was gone again. Clarke tried to calm down. She hadn't expected that. She hadn't been ready for boyish freckles, and damp tousled curls, and water dripping down bare bronze muscles. When he had grabbed Octavia into that hug, he had been so close. And so… touchable.

Clarke refused to look Raven's direction. The girl would have a field day with Clarke's completely inappropriate and out of character attraction to this man.

"Okay, all set!" Bellamy was back and Clarke wanted to find any excuse to get away from him, from the way he seemed to shed waves of heat at her without having once acknowledged her presence. But dear sweet fuck, how could that man wear a pair of jeans and a t-shirt in such a… sexual way? It shouldn't be possible.

"So, have you eaten? Most of the team is heading out for pizza. You can all come if you want," his gaze swept over the other girls as he spoke, and when he caught Clarke's eye he smiled. It was skin-meltingly charming. "Hi. Bellamy Blake. I guess I should thank you for taking care of my kid sister this weekend."

She should have crawled away earlier, back before he saw her, back when she had the chance and a shred of dignity left. But it was too late now; he was waiting for some kind of answer. She licked her lips nervously, tried not to stare at his dark laughing eyes or the dimple on his chin – that damn adorable dimple, really just unfair – and introduced first Raven, then herself. Raven immediately stepped up to say they'd love to go for pizza, as Clarke knew she would. She tried to think of some way out of the invitation; this was all becoming too dangerous, too distracting, and it was happening way too fast. But then Bellamy slipped one arm over his sister's shoulders and as they turned to leave, caught Clarke's waist gently with his free hand. It was just for a moment, just a quick light pressure on her hip, turning her toward the door. And even though the whole thing was over so fast nobody else noticed it, even though he never once looked back at her because he was busy listening to Octavia's story about her trip, Clarke knew she was going with them.

"Oh, come on, I promise it won't be too bad," Raven begged, unaware of Clarke's own internal battle and stupid, stupid weakness. She linked her arm through Clarke's. "He's hot, his friends are hot… in fact, I think this could be fun."

"Mind if I sit here?"

Clarke looked around; she was alone at a corner booth, and the rest of the restaurant was swarming. Saying "No" to Bellamy Blake would just be rude. She pushed herself to the far edge of the semi-circular bench and nodded, mute.

"Thanks. I know I'm supposed to be celebrating with them, but sometimes I just need a damn break."

"A break? From your friends?"

"Friends? …Hm, I guess they're my friends. Mostly they're my team. I'm responsible for them. These guys are decent enough, but a lot of us are here on scholarship, so we need to keep our grades high. And for some people," Clarke caught him eyeing Murphy, a hint of worry scarring the corners of his mouth, "That's hard to remember."

"Ah. So you're saying you're everyone's big brother? Not just Octavia's?" Clarke challenged with a raised eyebrow. No. Wait. Why was she letting herself get dragged into this conversation? This was dumb. This was dangerous. He kept shifting closer, and of course she had to do the same because the restaurant was so loud she couldn't hear him otherwise, but now she caught a hint of his shampoo - or maybe his soap? - whatever; it was minty, a cool fresh green kind of smell that seemed too clean for what she'd heard about Blake. He should smell like fast sex and regret, not like… like… temptation.

"I didn't set out to be Big Brother, I promise," he teased back. "It's just habit, I guess."

"Hm. But next year you'll be gone, and Octavia will be a freshman if she gets accepted."

Bellamy scowled at that; obviously she had struck a nerve. "Oh, she'll get in. And I've already applied to be an R.A."

"Wow. That's... commitment." Commitment... creepy... whatever.

"Octavia's smart, and she's basically a good kid, but I worry about her. All the time," Bellamy admitted as they sat watching the crowd. Clarke kept trying to understand how they had ended up alone like this. "Maybe that's just me being the protective brother again though," Bellamy continued, still focused on Octavia.

"I wouldn't know, sorry. Only child."

"Yeah." There was something darker about him, now that he was free of the pool and it was just the two of them. Bellamy stretched out with a sigh, his well-toned limbs taking up most of the bench; Clarke raised one suspicious eyebrow when his leg brushed against hers under the table.

"What?" He laughed, deep and throaty, and she considered the very real possibility that it would be her undoing. "Relax, I'm not hitting on you. I'm tired, and ready for bed." She crossed her arms at the insinuation. "Still not hitting on you. I promise. Scary, angry girls are not my type." Clarke narrowed her eyes in frustration.

"I'm not scary."

"You're damn terrifying."

"Come on."

"Trust me. How often do you even get hit on?" It was such a rude fucking question, she almost forgot how viscerally her body had reacted to him at first. "Look, you don't have to actually answer that. It's none of my business, I'm just trying to prove a point. And my point is, when someone as hot as you is single, it's probably because she's smart – and to some men, that's intimidating."

He thought she was hot? That never happened. Everyone always gravitated toward Raven; it had been true since their first weeks on campus.

"You find me intimidating," she managed, grasping for a handle on this conversation.

"No, I didn't say that."

"You just said that!"

"I'm sorry to burst your bubble, Princess. That's really not what I meant. Just because you're scary doesn't mean I'm scared of you." One eyebrow slid upward as he spoke, and he was trying to hold back a grin. Fuck, he was really hot, though.

"I am not scary, I just don't have time for distractions."

"Not scary? You should see your face right now, then." He laughed again. Dammit. Yes, that sound, that liquid sex sound, was proving treacherous. "Fine, if not scary, then at least angry." Clarke grew still. "But what I don't get is, what do you have to be angry about, Princess?" he continued, his voice lower now, more serious. Bellamy leaned forward suddenly, this time getting right in her personal space. He was staring; Clarke could feel her cheeks heating up under the scrutiny.

"I'm not angry about anything –"

"Liar."

"– But I do have to focus on school right now." Clarke realized she was probably saying it as much for her own benefit as his. Bellamy leaned away again, resting his head on the booth's high wooden back.

"Yeah, sure, we all do. I've got a Senior thesis that won't write itself. But instead of focusing on Caesar's crossing of the Rubicon like I'm supposed to, I'm cramming for a quiz on cellular respiration."

"Why?"

"My advisor fucked up, and I never took the core science requirement."

Clarke sat up. "Wait. So you're a History major?" she asked. Bellamy just nodded. He actually looked slightly unsettled now, as he watched gears turning in Clarke's head. Finally she nodded back, and smiled at him grimly.

"Okay. I'll tutor you. I could take that bio quiz in my sleep. And in exchange, all you have to do is get me through my ancient cultures course."

They eyed each other carefully.

"Okay, yeah. Deal," Bellamy finally declared, sliding to the edge of the booth. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go threaten the asshole trying to feel up my little sister."

It had been two weeks, and Clarke was in serious trouble. Tutoring Bellamy was more difficult than she had expected, mainly because every time she got near him, she kept thinking of him in his swimming uniform. Which was pretty much the same as thinking of him naked. Which was distracting, and usually led to her needing a very long cool shower by the time she got back to her dorm.

Her phone buzzed against her hip, and she felt the little surge of pleasure she always felt when it turned out to be a text from him.

- Library tonight? 9?- Clarke grinned. He'd have just finished practice. He'd be warm and slightly breathless from the exertion, his hair would be so perfectly imperfect…

- Sorry, busy til 10 - she texted back. She couldn't let him think he was in charge.

- Busy? How? - Clarke felt her brow furrow. Now she needed actual plans?

- Movie. - That was a pretty good excuse.

- OK. Send me the details, I'll meet you there. - Shit. Time to organize movie night. Monty Green, that stoner kid with the full ride scholarship, lived just down the hall. He was usually up for a little distraction, and he had a decent flatscreen. Raven would probably be cool with that, too, given the way those two always skirted the edges of their mutual attraction.

Clarke sighed and pulled up Raven's number.

Monty was so stoned he had moved past "giggly" and was well into "inappropriately friendly" by the time Raven and Clarke knocked.

"Streetcar Named Desire? Really?" Raven asked when she saw the title sequence queued up.

"I've never seen it," Clarke said, but Monty was grinning loosely at Raven. He was oblivious to anything Clarke had to say.

"What can I say? I love old movies," he confessed, wrapping them each in bear hugs before ushering them into his small, surprisingly tidy room. Black and white films weren't her thing, but Clarke had sprung this on all of them last minute; she had no right to make judgments about Monty's choice.

Half an hour into the movie, Clarke was hooked. A knock on the door startled her; Monty did not bother to move, draped happily over Raven in a way that Clarke seemed to mind more than her roommate did.

"You get it, Clarke. He's your damn boyfriend," Raven muttered as she curled lazily into Monty. Clarke sighed and crossed the room, one eye still on the movie. Until she swung the door open.

He looked so out-of-place here. This was a freshman dorm, full of young kids still learning how to act like adults. Bellamy was… definitely not a kid. Just as she had predicted, he was slightly winded. Dark curls clung damply to his forehead and it was so damn hard not to reach up and brush them back. He must have dressed in a rush; his soft grey Henley was slightly crooked at the shoulder, and she could see where a few stray droplets of water had bled through from his skin, staining the fabric temporarily darker. He even still smelled faintly of the pool. As he stepped into the tiny room, Bellamy bit back an insolent grin.

"I don't miss living like this," he admitted, bending to whisper in her ear; it sent a shiver over her skin. "Next time, movie night at my place? Although," he caught sight of Marlon Brando, "Good choice." He looked at her with something like approval.

"Monty picked it," Clarke deflected, suddenly uncomfortable under his gaze. Why did she always react this way to him?

"Wait - you don't like it?"

"I've just never seen it before." Bellamy screwed his face up thoughtfully but said nothing. His head tilted very slightly to the side as he studied her, and Clarke had to look away. She should not be doing this. It was a mistake. He was a mistake.

They tried to get comfortable on the floor, Clarke desperate to keep physical distance between them… but it didn't take long before Raven and Monty became impossible to ignore. The movie was too difficult to follow with that kind of distraction, so Clarke suggested studying in her room instead – something she had previously avoided, on purpose. The last boy she'd invited to her room had been Finn.

But now here Bellamy was, standing on their tiny faded-orange throw rug, slowly taking in the various signs of each occupant. It felt like maybe he was reading her soul, and suddenly Clarke wished she had not let Raven hang quite so many of those stupid charcoal sketches. It was too much information to share with someone like Bellamy, who pretended to be an open book but really fucking wasn't.

It was Clarke's night, which meant she was allowed to sit back and listen as Bellamy turned her dry boring textbook into something actually worth caring about. She curled her legs beneath her on Raven's lower bunk, and tried not to notice how completely he filled the room with his presence as he paced and talked. Tonight it was the founding of Ancient China, and Clarke shuddered when Bellamy described Emperor Qin's tomb, an underground landscape complete with immortal rivers of pure mercury.

"That stuff'll kill you," she pointed out.

"Yes, I know," he shot back as he sank into a nearby desk chair. He sounded annoyed. Or tired. She edged forward just a bit, tilting her chin up so she could watch him more closely.

"Something's wrong."

"No. It's not a big deal. Don't worry about it," Bellamy said with a frown.

"Too late," she whispered. She wanted to say, What are friends for? Or maybe, Sharing is usually helpful. Or even just, I need to know because I'm too damn curious about you.

She didn't say any of that. She rested her hand on his knee, and they both kind of stared at it, at the way she had changed the dynamic so much with that simple gesture.

"It's… my mother died today. Two years ago today, I mean. It's just." He cleared his throat before continuing. "It's always kind of rough."

Clarke kissed him.

It wasn't really even on purpose. It was just… she was terrible at these moments, she usually said all the wrong things, and the feeling of being kicked in the ribs was probably more because of her own father's death, and how she hadn't ever before realized she and Bellamy shared this one very specific and very painful kind of anguish, but that didn't make what happened to him okay, and Bellamy was hurting, and she just wanted to kiss him better.

She intended a quick gentle kiss. Well, maybe she didn't intend anything that specific, because that would have required actual thought. But whatever, she had not expected him to meet her halfway, to bring his pain and grief along with him like that. He kissed her as if she was his last chance at happiness, deepening the embrace, his tongue gliding softly across her lip, her teeth, and when she gasped he poured all of himself into her, sweet and hot and too fucking good at this for Clarke to be able to stop now. To stop ever.