Summary: AU, Drama/Romance/Fluff, Bellarke. 3x the Griffin/Blake family cook for each other (first Clarke, then the kids, then Bellamy) and 1x somebody else cooks for them.

Rated M – for adult content (it's probably over-cautious).

Disclaimer: Just borrowing The 100, not for profit!

A/N: This fic is a part of a domestic fluff series I created because I need fluff! The first part is DISSENT. It's not crucial to read that first, but it might give some context.

Name pronunciation (I'm Australian so it might seem different to the way you would say it): Terran = Tare/ren, Aithne = Eth/nee, and I think Ashwin is pretty obvious.

NOURISHMENT

One.

By the time she unloaded them all out of the car, checked the mail box, brought in the bins, fed the animals and ran a bath for the boys, Clarke was ready to collapse on the couch.

She'd been on her feet for sixteen hours straight and desperately needed to rest.

"Muuuum…" Aithne called from the kitchen as Clarke stripped off her skirt and replaced it with sweatpants. "What's for dinner?"

Dinner? Ugh. She hadn't even thought about feeding them. Damn. Why hadn't she accepted her mother's offer to keep the kids overnight?

Because it was Friday, she remembered, and it had been a long week for them all. Bellamy was away on security detail for five days and all Clarke wanted was to spend some time with her three little ferals, even if it meant feeling measurably more tired than she was now, if that were possible.

Clarke stepped into her slippers and strode down the hall, checking on Terran and Ash as she passed the bathroom.

The two of them were using their plastic ocean animals to re-enact the deep sea documentary they'd all watched as a family last week.

It had been the favoured bath time game since then.

"The Blue Whale diets on millions of tiny krill," Ashwin narrated in his best BBC impersonation. "They're like shrimp," he added in his normal voice for his little brother's benefit.

Clarke stifled a laugh.

"Blerrgh…yuck!" Terran stuck out his tongue. "Occa eats peanut budda, like me," he exclaimed flopping the rubbery killer whale backwards and forwards in his brother's face.

"It's Orrrr-ca," Ash corrected. "And they are car-niv-o-rous. That means they eat meat."

"Peanut budda's meat," Terr tried.

"No, it's made out of nuts."

"Nooo it isn't," the toddler protested, sticking out his bottom lip. "It's meat!"

Clarke sensed the start of a tantrum.

Luckily, at that precise moment Terran's tummy grumbled impressively, causing the two boys to pucker their lips and raise their eyebrows in delighted surprise, an expression derived directly from their father.

They dissolved into giggles, which dissolved into giggles and splashes, which dissolved into…

"Let's make a tsunami," Ashwin cried.

"Alright you two," Clarke interrupted just in time. "I think you're clean enough, don't you?"

With minor reluctance, she managed to get them both out of the bath and towelled off before they raced to their bedroom to put their pyjamas on.

Despite the three year age difference they were the best of friends.

In the kitchen, Clarke found her daughter unloading the dishwasher.

"Thank-you Eth," she said, kissing her head.

She opened the fridge.

It was abysmally bare besides the usual condiments, some milk, butter, beer, cheese and broccoli.

The pantry was just as pathetic.

Apparently she hadn't been to the grocery store for quite some time.

Clarke muttered and huffed, too tired to articulate her frustration effectively.

"Are you okay, mum?" Aithne asked with crinkled eyebrows.

"Yes Eth," she rummaged around the shelves and pulled out various items, placing them on the kitchen counter. "Only, I've just realised we are severely unprepared if there's ever an apocalypse."

"We have popcorn!" Her daughter cried, holding up the packet with an all too familiar smirk. "Popcorn makes everything better."

After assessing the random ingredients she had laid on the bench and finding no inspiration for a quick, healthy meal, Clarke sighed and reached for her phone, with the intent of dialling for a pizza.

In that instant she received a text.

Bell

Skype goodnight?

She gasped and looked at the clock. It couldn't be that time already, surely? When either of them was away or working late, they attempted to skype each night at bedtime. It didn't always work, but they tried.

Tonight she remembered he was a couple of hours ahead of them.

Clarke

You scared me!

It's only 6pm EST.

About to order pizza.

Bell

Pizza?

Didn't you guys have that last night?

Okay, so meal planning was definitely not her strong point, add that to her list of shortcomings – right next to grocery shopping and numerous other culinary related skills.

Clarke

You know I'm no master chef.

Bell

That's an understatement.

Clarke

Smart arse!

But seriously, I don't think I could stand at the stove long enough to even boil an egg.

My feet are sore.

Bell

You can boil an egg? :P

I'll give you a rub when I get there.

Clarke

You're coming home?

I thought you were on duty till Monday.

Bell

Summit suspended.

About to board.

ETA 10pm your time.

Give the kids a kiss.

Clarke

Yay! xoxo

Just as she put down the phone with a stupidly big grin on her face, Eth re-entered the room after a quick shower.

"Are we having pizza for dinner again?" She whined.

Clarke cringed. If the kids were complaining, perhaps they did eat it too often.

"I want peanut budda!" Terran interjected, padding into the kitchen in his penguin PJ's.

"There's broccoli in here," Ash added, standing with the fridge door open. "We could make Dad's famous broccoli soup!"

"Blerrgh!" The other three stuck out their tongues and made disgusted faces.

"I think you mean Dad's infamous broccoli soup," Clarke clarified.

After raising Octavia on his own with the basest of budgets, Bellamy's collection of recipes included some strange made-up concoctions. Some were stupendous, others were ordinary.

"Hmm…let's see," Clarke flicked through the folder of take-out flyers.

Too spicy. Too oily. Too tasty.

There wasn't much bar pineapple pizza that a three year old with a peanut butter preoccupation would even attempt to eat.

Ugh. It was impossible. She'd made easier decisions in life or death situations at work today.

"Why don't we have popcorn?" Aithne offered, holding up the bag Clarke had unceremoniously dumped in her haste to find something to make.

"Popcorn?" Clarke queried as if the idea was ridiculous.

"It's a vegetable isn't it?" Her daughter would make a great debater.

"Pop-corn! Pop-corn! Pop-corn!" The boys chanted, marching around in a circle with their fists in the air.

Well, she sighed. If the peanut butter addict was sold, then so was she.

"Popcorn it is then!" Clarke declared. She was definitely not mother of the year material.

Later, once the kids were in bed, she sent a text with a picture attached that she'd snapped as they ate.

Clarke

So… you'll be pleased to know we vetoed pizza.

Ash put in a strong nomination for your broccoli soup (not your best recipe).

Terr had his usual request.

Went with Eth's idea in the end.

Totally winning at this mother thing.

Eggs for breakfast?

A/N: I'd love to hear what you thought! :D