A/N: This has been languishing in my fic folder for months but I was struck with inspiration, so here you go.

Warnings for: Bellamy/Raven/Clarke, implied future drunk threesome sexual activity, underage drinking, recreational drug usage, modern high school AU, mild Finn Collins hate, general ridiculousness.

Title comes from "Play Date" by Melanie Martinez.

The party, already an hour in, still seems to be going quite well when Clarke heads upstairs to find an unoccupied bathroom. She's had to pee for the past ten minutes, and she's been looking for Wells for the past twenty. He's her designated driver - he's not supposed to disappear on her like this. (She's in desperate need of an escape because she can feel herself moving towards the threshold of tipsiness that will lead to her making out with Finn in Octavia Blake's pantry or somewhere equally lackluster.)

The first door she opens goes to a linen closet, but the room across the hall is a bedroom. Octavia's brother's bedroom, as it turns out. The first thing she lays eyes on is the brother in question, Bellamy, who is sitting on the carpeted floor in nothing but a pair of jeans with a joint dangling rather elegantly from his lips. Despite herself, Clarke has to privately admit that it's not the worst sight she's ever seen.

"Sorry," Clarke blurts automatically, as he turns to look at her. It's only then that she sees Raven Reyes, slightly eclipsed from Clarke's view by Bellamy as she lounges next to him on the floor, her bad leg propped up on a pillow. Clarke notes that instead of doing the most logical thing at a party - making out - they're sitting in front of a small TV with game controllers in their hands. "I didn't realize there was somebody in here - I'm looking for a bathroom?"

Bellamy doesn't even spare her a second glance, but Raven jerks her head in the direction of Bellamy's bathroom, her large, pretty eyes already focused on the screen again. "Over there," she says. "Don't puke or anything."

"Yeah," Bellamy says, in a deep, gruff voice that Clarke vaguely remembers from years of associating with Octavia. "Because I'm not cleaning it up."

"I'll try to remember that, thanks," Clarke mutters, walking towards the indicated door. Out of the corner of her eye, Clarke sees Raven pull off the nimble feat of letting go of her controller, plucking the joint from Bellamy's mouth, putting it in her own mouth, and grabbing her controller again. "Hey," Clarke hears Bellamy protest.

"You're wasting it," Raven says, voice funny around the joint, and Clarke quickly steps into the bathroom and shuts the door behind her.

The room is neat, for a single guy's bathroom. Clarke has just enough experience with guys to know that, aside from Wells (who is pathologically tidy), most of them just don't give a shit. Clarke pees, washes her hands, and steps back out into Bellamy's room just as Raven starts yelling.

"You asshole," she sort-of shrieks. It's too subdued to be a real scream, but the emotion is there. "Fuck you and your blue shell."

Bellamy grins, a flash of white teeth illuminated by bluish light, and Clarke can't help but be interested now. "Are you guys playing Mario Kart?"

"Stoned Mario Kart," Raven says. She's playing as Birdo; Bellamy, to Clarke's surprise, is playing as Mario. Pretty generic choice. "It's our favorite pastime. Well, one of them."

Clarke wonders again, briefly, why they're not having sex right now. She doesn't plan on asking. "You know there's a party going on downstairs, right?" she says instead. And people call her boring.

"No shit," Bellamy says, mashing several buttons in quick succession. Clarke is kind of impressed by his fine motor control; judging by the flush on Raven's cheeks and Bellamy's blown pupils, they're both at least somewhat gone already. Then again, Clarke is just tipsy enough to feel warm and good, so maybe she isn't the best judge of Mario Kart skills right now.

After a moment of Clarke just standing there silently, observing them, Raven says distractedly, "You can sit down, you know. If you want to watch."

Clarke doesn't exactly have anything better to do until Wells texts her back, and it's better than succumbing to the all too real desire to find Finn, if he's even here. It's only until after she gingerly sits down on the floor between Bellamy and Raven that she remembers, oh shit. Finn. Raven's Finn. Or, more accurately, Raven's former Finn.

(He's still Finn. But they're not still Finn and Raven. This is the beer talking, Clarke thinks.)

Even stone cold sober, Clarke wouldn't know how to just come right out and say sorry I accidentally ruined your relationship, Raven. But Raven's not acting like there's any hard feelings between them, if the way she nudges her knee against Clarke's is any indication.

"So are we cool?" Clarke blurts, and then thinks, that was definitely the beer. "About -,"

"Clarke," Raven says, a hint of sharpness edging into her voice. She might as well have a neon sign that reads let sleeping dogs lie blinking over her head. "It's been a whole semester, 'kay? You're not the one I'm holding a grudge against."

Clarke ponders that for a moment, staring at the place where her knee knocks lightly against Raven's. "So we're cool."

"Yeah, Clarke," Raven says, her eyes flicking briefly from the TV screen to look at Clarke. "We're cool."

"This is all very touching," Bellamy says dryly, "but some of us are trying to win a game of Mario Kart here."

"That's funny," Clarke says, "because Raven's the only one winning."

Raven laughs, and Bellamy shoots Clarke a look that holds no real malice in it. Clarke is still having trouble reconciling her image of Bellamy Blake - Octavia's hot, manly older brother, the kind of asshole who wears dirty leather jackets and actually looks good in them - with this guy sitting cross-legged on his bedroom floor playing a video game. It's kind of endearing, in a really bizarre way. It makes him much less intimidating.

Raven successfully whoops Bellamy's ass for what Clarke suspects is not the first time that evening. In celebration, she takes a final pull from the joint, which is rapidly approaching the end of its usefulness. "You wanna play a round?" she asks abruptly.

Clarke hesitates, but she's relaxed a little bit, probably due to a contact high or the warm press of Raven's knee or Bellamy's shoulder or maybe both. "Okay," she says finally, taking the controller. She picks Princess Peach when the character selection comes up, because she'd always done that as a kid when she and Wells would play.

"It's tradition, Clarke," Raven says, offering the joint. Clarke has no free hand to take it with and Bellamy is about to start the next round, so she just does the first thing she can think of – she parts her lips and lets Raven put the joint between them.

There's one quick charged moment where Raven's fingers are touching Clarke's mouth, and Clarke can't help but blush. Next to Clarke, Bellamy is studying them, his eyes warm and dark and carefully impassive. Clarke blushes even more deeply when she glances at him, and in an effort to act natural, sucks in a breath of warm smoke.

She inhales deeply and predictably, it makes her cough. Bellamy hits pause on the race, which Clarke hadn't even realized had just begun, and pats her back with one warm hand as she takes the joint out of her mouth and regains her breath. "You good?" he asks. It's a simple question, but the way he looks at her makes it feel like he actually gives a shit, which is nice.

"Fine," she manages. "It's just – been a while since I smoked anything."

"Bet you smoked with Finn," Raven says calmly. She's lounging back, weight resting on her elbows, and she gently knocks her good leg against Clarke's again, as if to show that she means no harm. "He always had cheap shit."

"Yeah," Clarke says after a second. "He did."

Bellamy's hand moves from her back and Clarke feels a little disappointed; she always craves touch when there's even a drop of alcohol in her system. Wells calls it "the curse of the lightweight" (which is ironic since he's the exact same way.) Bellamy plucks the joint from Clarke's fingers without asking and puts it in his mouth, then mumbles around it, all-business. "Ready?"

"Born ready," Clarke replies.

This earns her one of Bellamy's quick little grins. Clarke has already decided that she likes those. "Sure thing, Princess."

He presses the start button without giving her time to react to the nickname, and before she knows it she's in last place. The last time she'd played a video game had probably been years ago, with Wells or Jasper and Monty, so she's already at a distinct disadvantage without factoring in her slight inebriation or adding the distraction caused by two very attractive people. They play a round, pausing only to pass the joint back and forth until it's gone, and Clarke loses every single race. Clarke doesn't do losing – she never has and probably never will.

"Rematch," Clarke says, trying and failing to be truly irritable about it. "I demand a rematch."

"You demand it," Bellamy repeats, amused and exasperated all at once. His gaze flits from Clarke to Raven, who has gotten up and unearthed a half-finished bottle of whiskey from God knows where, and back to Clarke again. "Well, Princess, if your pride's at stake here, I'll give you a rematch."

"My pride's not at stake," Clarke says. "I just needed a warm-up, that's all."

"Well," Bellamy drawls languidly, taking the bottle of whiskey when Raven offers it to him and drinking from it, "now you're all warmed up."

Clarke flushes but doesn't say anything else – she doesn't trust what might come out of her mouth if she does. While Bellamy fiddles with his controller to set up the game, Raven gingerly sits back down on the floor, but not in her original spot – this time she's behind them, slightly closer to Bellamy than to Clarke. Clarke almost feels hurt until the race begins and she realizes what Raven's up to.

Raven doesn't hold back, which is really to be expected, and leans forward against Bellamy's bare back, wrapping her arms loosely around his middle. "Careful," he murmurs, hardly paying her any mind, too focused on the game to care. Clarke should have known that he's actually just as competitive as she is.

"I'm always careful," Raven giggles, resting her cheek on Bellamy's back. When Clarke glances over, Raven winks at her, still shaking slightly with laughter.

"You're so high," Clarke says, and she's laughing, too.

"Nice one, Sherlock," Raven says dryly, and Clarke has to devote her full attention to the game again if she wants to even stand a chance of winning, but she doesn't miss it when she sees Raven in her peripheral vision, pressing her lips against Bellamy's shoulder.

The room is quiet except for the cheerful jingle coming from the game and the muffled sound of music and chatter downstairs, but Clarke is sure that if she listened hard enough, she'd hear the quiet sound of Raven's lips on Bellamy's skin, kissing a path up from his shoulder to his neck. Raven must do something new – she gives him a gentle bite, maybe – because Clarke swears she hears him suck in a breath.

"Raven, cut it out," Bellamy says, and there's a husky note in his voice that Clarke might have missed before but she can't not notice now. "The next round is Rainbow Road."

"Mm," Raven says, and Clarke can feel the weight of her gaze, even as she's still wrapped around Bellamy. "Winner gets a kiss."

"That's a powerful incentive," Clarke admits, and Raven giggles again, warm and mischievous.

Raven is openly running her hands over Bellamy, from his chest to his hips and even skimming her fingers over his thighs, but he refuses to break. Clarke hears Raven whisper something about "leveling the playing field" into Bellamy's ear.

"Yeah, right," Bellamy says, not even bothering to be quiet. But he lets Raven distract him long enough that his cart goes skidding off Rainbow Road and into outer space, setting him back so much that he drops from first place to third. "Fuck," he says, but he's laughing, no real anger in his voice.

In the end, though, Clarke still can't catch him. He has so much more practice at this than she does that she'd have a hard time winning totally sober. But he doesn't technically win either – he crosses the finish line solidly in second place, with Clarke edging into third at the last minute. Clarke watches, slightly transfixed, as Bellamy turns his head to Raven, both of them smirking at each other. Raven kisses him and Clarke should look away but she can't, fascinated by the tinted light from the television screen as it plays over their skin and hair.

Raven breaks the kiss after a moment, still grinning at Bellamy like a cat who's just caught a very plump canary. Clarke isn't sure who she's most envious of – Raven, for getting to drape herself all over Bellamy like that, or Bellamy, for getting to kiss Raven. With that thought in mind, Clarke hears herself say hoarsely, "Hey."

Two sets of brown eyes flick toward her instantly. Bellamy seems to be trying to school his expression, but Raven isn't even bothering. There's a hunger in her eyes, and Clarke feels scorched by it – but in a good way, somehow. "Do I get a consolation prize?" she asks.

Bellamy chuckles, low and warm, but immediately goes quiet when Raven untangles herself from him, scooting forward towards Clarke as smoothly as she can, completely lacking hesitation. Clarke covers the last bit of distance, and when their lips meet, Clarke is lost for a moment, finally able to do what she's been wanting to do the entire night, or at least most of it. She wishes that Raven's hair was down but as it's not, Clarke contents herself with one palm loosely cupping her cheek.

They kiss for an eternity, or at least for the duration of one jingling song from the video game. When they finally break, Clarke sees that Bellamy has moved in close, too, and is kissing Raven's neck. Even as she tilts her head to offer him more skin, Raven laughs and says to Clarke, "Boys. Always so scared they're going to get left out."

Clarke chuckles and to her surprise, so does Bellamy, lifting his head to look at her. Clarke leans in and kisses him because she now knows she can, and he kisses her back. His lips are softer than she'd expected – not as soft as Raven's, but then again, nothing could be that soft. Clarke's not complaining.

Bellamy pulls away from her after a moment, and Clarke takes a second to breathe. She watches Raven look at Bellamy, telegraphing something to him with her eyes. She must get an affirmative signal from him, because she looks incredibly pleased with the whole situation.

Bellamy breaks the quiet between the three of them. "So, Princess," he drawls, "you feeling like a winner yet?"

"Hell yeah," Clarke says. There's a sudden burst of laughter and noise from downstairs, happy and carefree party sounds, but here, looking at Bellamy and Raven – well, Clarke decides there's no place she'd rather be.