AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well shit. I posted the wrong version of the first two parts. I AM SO ANNOYED.

Minor changes to Part 1, but if you read Part 2 prior to June 19, 2015, I beg you to go back and re-read before continuing. The old version was 2,600 words... it's now closer to 4,400. And SO much better. TRUST ME. (...get it?)

Part 3

Spring felt good. Spring was tank tops and soft skirts and Bellamy's hands on her bare skin every chance he got. Spring felt like warm hope. He'd be an RA next year. He wasn't going anywhere, and she'd be a sophomore, and her mom had agreed to the idea of an apartment off-campus since the school's housing was so damn expensive anyway. Jasper and Monty were doing most of the legwork, Raven had kind-of-sort-of agreed to be a fourth roommate if they needed her, everything was… good.

"Hey, Princess, why so tense?" Bellamy asked, one hand resting absentmindedly at the base of her skull as they sat under a cherry tree along the Potomac, each engrossed in their studies. The morning had come and gone, and now bright midday sun dappled their books, the blanket, their flesh.

"I'm not tense," Clarke shot back, but she knew he knew it was a lie. With an incredulous lift of one eyebrow, and a little bit of a sideways glare, Bellamy stretched one long arm up; he just barely managed to reach the lowest branch overhead, giving it a quick flick with his fingers. A shower of white-pink cherry blossoms rained over Clarke, and despite herself she laughed at him.

"I'm no more tense than usual," she clarified.

"Not true, you're at about a seven right now, and five is your baseline level of tense." As he spoke, Bellamy set his book aside and placed both hands on Clarke's raised bare knees, shifting to place himself directly in front of her. "You know, I have a great idea – "

"No," she frowned. "We're right on the Potomac, Bellamy. Anyone could show up at any minute! The President of the United States could come strolling down that path."

"I like to think he'd approve my plan," Bellamy whispered as he leaned forward, watching her mouth in anticipation – and it was already a little too late to protest because as his lips landed lightly on hers, he pushed her knees just-slightly open. His hips fell into the new space created there, the thick fabric of his cargo pants rubbing against her inner thighs temptingly. Clarke sighed and grabbed his shoulders. He was doing that thing, the thing that drove her crazy, the one where he kept all the best parts of him touching-but-not-quite-touching her. His mouth was a whisper against hers. His hips still hovered inches from contact with her body. His hands floated at her jaw, a butterfly-kiss at her throat, and Clarke moaned with need despite their very public locat –

"Hey guys, sorry to interrupt," Monty called from somewhere too near.

"Fucking…" Clarke sighed heavily. Bellamy laughed and sat back. His dark eyes danced with a promise to continue again later, a promise Clarke knew she'd make him keep. "How did you find us?" Clarke asked her friend, even though she kept her gaze fixed on Bellamy.

"Was it a secret? Because Raven and I installed one of those GPS tracker apps on your phone months ago," Monty explained, finally coming around the edge of the blanket to see Clarke. "We were worried. You're usually impossible to find." He didn't even have the decency to sound guilty for the massive invasion of privacy.

"Monty, that's –"

"Anyway, I just came to tell you your mom's here. Surprise! … Clarke?... Whoa, what the hell?" Monty stared at Bellamy, terrified of the sudden fury that had overtaken Clarke, leaving her pale and mute.

"Thank you for telling us," Bellamy assured the nervous Freshman. "It's just a… yeah, definitely a surprise. Where is she now?"

"Oh, she and Clarke's friend Lexa are over at the student union. They're grabbing lunch."

"Lexa?" It was a squeak. Clarke knew it was a squeak, by the way the other two pulled back slightly. "Why the fuck is Lexa here?"

"Hey, all I agreed to do was come get you," Monty pointed out, not unkindly. "I really don't know anything else."

"I can't go, Bellamy, I can't go," Clarke whispered, panicky. "Fuck." This was what living a nightmare was like. The two people she wanted to see least in the world, sitting at a table together.

"That doesn't sound right," Bellamy pointed out as he grabbed their books and threw them into his messenger bag. "Clarke Griffin doesn't back down from anybody or anything. What's going on? I mean… your mom I get, but why wouldn't you want to see an old friend?"

Clarke bit her lip and frowned, squatting down to fold the blanket. "Because she's not an old friend, she's an old hookup."

"Oh, okay, that makes a lot more sense. And it didn't end well, obviously." She was expecting more from him. She was expecting him to be jealous, or maybe turned on by the idea of Clarke with a girlfriend – Finn had been an outright ass when he found out – but Bellamy didn't seem to care.

"My ex shows up with my mom in tow… and you're just… fine with that?"

"Clarke - you called her a hookup. Not an ex. Should I be upset? Was this something that happened recently?"

"Last summer," Clarke began, but Bellamy just smiled and bent to kiss her. This time there was no teasing, no holding back. His lips melted into hers, his tongue found and caressed her own, and Clarke grabbed his arm for support.

"I'll go with you, if you want. I'm sure whatever they want, we can handle it." Bellamy's breath drifted along her cheek, and all Clarke could do was nod.

It was worse than Clarke had pictured. Abby and Lexa both jumped up from their little booth to greet her, and Bellamy – trying to be the nice guy, and missing every single one of her cues about needing him to be a dick instead – stepped to the side. Abby gave the most awkward hug known to man. Lexa didn't bother. Lexa went straight for the kiss. It was, somehow, more awkward than Abby's hug. At least Bellamy finally stepped up, grunting and crossing his arms to stare at Lexa until she cleared her throat uncomfortably.

"Bellamy, I'd like you to meet my mom, Dr. Abby Griffin. And this is my summer intern supervisor, Lexa. Lexa , mom, this is my – b-Bellamy." FUCK. Nooo. Clarke flinched. She should have just called him her boyfriend. He was. He was more than that, really, he was… But now a couple awkward seconds had passed. Saying the word now would feel defensive and disingenuous. Fuck. Clarke looked up to toss him an apologetic grin, but his face was dark, his stormy black eyes boring into hers. He rarely unleashed that look on her.

"I didn't – "

"We'll talk about it later," he cut her off. "For now, are you hungry? I'll go order."

"No, I'm fine. Bell – "

"I think I'll order something," Bellamy continued, and now it was the way he couldn't look at her at all as he walked away. Clarke cursed these women for showing up and ruining her day.

"Why are you two even here?"

"I'm paying for this school, I'm allowed to visit my daughter," Abby sounded offended; Clarke grudgingly conceded her point.

"And you, Lexa? Did you and my mother set up joint accounts without telling me?" Lexa smiled, that serene little smile Clarke had fallen for early on. She hadn't realized at first how much of a façade it was. Now she knew better.

"It was a coincidence, Clarke. I'm in town doing some recruitment work for the firm, and I ran into your mother at the airport. She invited me to come say hi."

"I'm uninviting you," Clarke said, not bothering to go for polite. This whole thing was miserable, and she just wanted Bellamy back. He'd been gone too long. Fuck Lexa and her inappropriate affection.

"Clarke…" Abby sounded offended. Lexa seemed unperturbed. Lexa always seemed unperturbed. It was fucking frustrating, especially once you knew it was just her way of exerting control over a situation.

"Listen, Mom. Feel free to take Lexa back to your hotel with you and do… whatever you want to each other, okay? But I have classes and homework, and I have to find Bellamy. So let's meet for dinner – just us," and Clarke frowned pointedly at Lexa. "I'll text you the address of this Mexican place we like, it's not far from campus." She leaned in, granting her mother one more cold hug, and then slipped away before the tension gave her a headache.

"Thank you for agreeing to dinner," Clarke sighed as she and Bellamy climbed the stairs to his dorm room later that night. Her heels were in one hand, he other gripping his elbow for balance.

"Yeah, well. That was eye-opening. Thank you for drinking all my wine and getting belligerent with your mom. That wasn't the least bit awkward for me, or anything."

"Shut up. It's because she doesn't know who you are."

"I'd say she does now. The whole restaurant knows. Princess, you were mortifying." Clarke was having trouble judging the height of each step. Bellamy finally just picked her up, carrying her over one shoulder as they reached the last set of stairs. "I don't think we can ever eat there again."

Clarke gasped.

"No! I love their salsa!"

"I'm just saying, you may have burned that bridge when you started yelling. For someone so tiny, your voice really carries, Clarke."

"Did I lie?"

"… There's no way… I don't –"

"You are amazing. Bellamy. You're amazing. You know so much stuff about history. I can't even fit it all in my head, and you, you make it like art, you make it like sex, like really fucking amazing sex – "

"Again, something your mom didn't need to know, Clarke."

"She was judging you. She was judging you and she doesn't know, she doesn't see how strong you are, and kind. And your hands," Clarke finally managed a stage whisper just as Bellamy swung open the door of his room, "Did I tell her about your hands?"

"Thank god no," Bellamy grunted as she tripped slightly over the well-worn edge of his welcome mat. "Here, give me your shoes. And… actually, Clarke, let's just get you undressed and into bed, okay?"

"Maybe I should call her."

"Okay. Give me your phone. Right the fuck now, Clarke. Give me the damn phone."

"She fucked my teacher, Bellamy! While my dad was lying in a hospital dying, she went to my best friend's house, and screwed his dad! There are no boundaries left between us. Trust me." Clarke sank onto the edge of Bellamy's bed and let him lift her sundress over her head. "What did I do wrong? I fell in love. Is that bad? That's not bad. That's supposed to be good." Clarke looked up then, and found Bellamy staring down at her, a worried look on his face.

"Are you oaky? Are you going to be sick?" she asked him, suddenly worried herself.

"Clarke, you just said…"

"What?"

"How drunk are you?"

"I'm not drunk. I'm fucking pissed off at her. And okay, yeah, I'm kinda tipsy. But I won't have a hangover tomorrow or anything. I think."

"You're just… being very honest about things right now. And I'm tempted to take advantage of that."

"Do it." Clarke smiled lazily and laid back on the bed. "Ask me anything. I trust you, Bellamy. I know you'd never hurt me."

"Shit."

"That's not a question."

"I know." She felt the bed shift as he sank onto the edge beside her. Clarke curled her body toward him, resting her head in his lap, and sighed happily when he began to slowly comb through the hair at her temple with his fingers. She closed her eyes and focused on the smell of him, the way his free hand rested on her chest almost possessively.

"…Okay Clarke. I'm sorry, I thought I was okay, I thought I wasn't jealous but today, with Lexa… it hurt watching that. So my question… do you have feelings for her?"

"No. There was a time when I thought maybe I could. But she turned out to be… not kind. She's not a bad person. But her way of looking at the world… it doesn't work for me." Clarke felt him relax under her. It was incredible to know she had made him feel better. She wanted to make him feel even better.

Clarke pulled herself up, until she was staring him in the face.

"I love you, Bellamy. It wasn't supposed to happen. You're not supposed to be my type, you know that? But it turns out my type is just… you. So you see, I didn't even have a choice, did I? I love you, and honestly, if you don't love me it's okay. No. It's not okay, it'll kill me a million tiny deaths if you don't, but I won't stop loving you, because if I could do that I would have a long time ago. So, there's that."

Clarke groaned a bit and turned over, reaching for Bellamy without opening her eyes. She loved nights they spent at his place. His bed was bigger, for one thing. And his hall was so much quieter, they were never interrupted by frantic knocking from Jasper or Fox, desperate for advice on some new crisis. Bellamy's hall was all upperclassmen, most of whom were camped at the library semi-permanently to finish their theses. Besides, Bellamy's coffee was better than Raven's.

He wasn't there.

"Bellamy?" Clarke sat up, trying to look for a clock and a calendar, wondering if she was late to classes. "Where the hell is my phone?" she muttered in confusion.

"Relax, Clarke, I confiscated it last night." Bellamy assured her as he wandered back into the room from his shower. He had a large towel wrapped around his waist, and Clarke felt her mouth water – what the fuck, when did she become Pavlov's dog? – at the thought of him naked under that towel. "Good morning," he murmured, resting one knee on the edge of the bed and leaning in for a kiss.

"I was a mess last night," Clarke admitted, grabbing for the towel. Bellamy pulled back just in time.

"I'm surprised you remember."

"I had a couple glasses of red wine. I wasn't doing tequila shots or anything." She looked down at her sleepwear – one of Bellamy's swim team t-shirts – and frowned. "Although how did I end up in this?"

"Well, after you professed your undying love for me," Bellamy winked, "I decided we'd all be happier if you took a shower before bed. You fell asleep as soon as we got back into the room." Clarke swallowed hard and picked at the cuticle on her left thumb, refusing to look up. She had, hadn't she? She had told him… everything.

"Hey, Princess? Are you okay?" Bellamy squatted down next to the bed and reached for her chin. He pulled her face to meet his, smiling softly when she finally made eye contact. "You said two really ridiculous things last night. The first was that you wanted to call your mom and tell her about my hands – "

"Still think I might – " she tried to joke.

" – And the second was that I might not love you. Clarke, I already told you, didn't I? I'm all in. What did you think that meant? I'm not fucking around with this. I love you. I love you so much breathing hurts when I'm not with you. I love the way you want to be stronger and better than everyone, I love the way you refuse to back down – even from me, I love your mouth and your… your knees, I love your fucking knees, Clarke. Okay? That's why – "

Clarke grabbed his face and pulled him up, pulled him into a kiss and kept going until she was flat on the bed and he was above her, the towel struggling to do its job and failing quickly. She reached down and tugged.

"No fair, you're dressed and I'm naked?" Bellamy laughed as his mouth traveled lightly along the line of her jaw. Clarke didn't bother to answer. He didn't seem to be letting the clothing get in his way. He stopped for a moment, grabbing her hips and smiling roughly at her just before pulling her to the edge of the low bed. Once she was balanced there, her hips and ass nearly hanging off, Bellamy bent over her underwear and kissed her roughly through the thin material. Clarke whimpered, in part from the gentle friction of his tongue forcing the fabric up against her, in part because she knew he loved the sound. She wasn't disappointed.

He groaned against her in response, growled a low "Fuck, Clarke," that seemed to hum straight into her core, and hooked his thumbs into the elastic at her hips. Pulling down slowly, Clarke squirmed as he exposed more and more of her flesh to his hot breath, until she was panting with need.

"I'm going to buy you some new underwear Clarke," Bellamy promised, and she laughed when she felt a sharp tug against her upper thigh and heard the rip of cotton.

"Dammit Bellamy, you have to stop doing that," she teased him. "They're not supposed to be single-use items."

"I still think my suggestion is better," he pointed out as he moved closer to her, as his fingers sought out and explored the dark center of her and his mouth settled over her once more.

"I can't just go-oh! … pantie-less… oh god…" She could almost feel him grinning into her.

His free hand traveled up her torso, and he shifted slightly so he could continue to suck and tease her with his mouth while fondling her breasts. He rolled one nipple between his fingers just as his tongue rolled over her clit and Clarke felt a dark fire build in her body. She cried out despite herself, blushing at the reaction, but Bellamy moaned and pulled away, infuriating her for a moment until he shifted again and, grabbing her hips for stability, filled her smoothly. Clarke arched back with a happy sigh.

"Fuck, Clarke, I love you so much," he admitted again, as he held himself still inside her and she writhed in bliss at the fullness of Bellamy. Eventually she calmed down and he settled into a rhythm he knew worked for her, slow at first, his thumbs running over the milky skin at her waist, until she was begging for him, begging him to fill her; until she very nearly cried with the need to have him, to keep him as hers. When he exploded inside her, Clarke let herself go too. She let the darkness of earlier overwhelm her, the hot comfort drowning her momentarily. She called for him and clutched his hair, dragging his face to hers for a kiss that carried them both along on the crest of her orgasm.

They fell asleep again, twined into each other, certain of little beyond this place, this time, this other person. Certain, though, too, that it was all enough.