Chapter 64 – Epilogue

(9 months later)

There were so many people inside, and all of them were being so loud, that Clarke had to step out into the backyard to take her phone call from her mother. She tried to be brief, because dinner reservations were at 7:30, and it was already almost 7:00. And she still wasn't sure if she was ready or not. She'd done her hair in haste and picked out the first nice, not-too-fancy-but-still-cute dress she'd spotted in the closet. She'd have to get Raven's opinion on whether or no she was good to go. Maybe some of the other girls' opinions, too.

"Well, I'm sure you've got plans tonight," her mom said as their conversation finally wound down, "so I'll let you go. But happy birthday, Clarke. I love you."

"Thanks. I love you, too," Clarke told her before ending the call. She took a deep breath and walked back inside, bracing herself for the inevitable chaos. Because it was Saturday night, and everyone was there, just like usual. Including Augustus, who couldn't go anywhere without at least ten toys accompanying him, all of which were now scattered across the living room floor.

As was often the case, the eleven-month old was the center of attention. Right now, he was wriggling around, doing his version of dancing, while Miller attempted to beatbox. He had on his father's baseball cap, which kept falling over his eyes, and everyone was laughing at the way he fell down but always got right back up again.

When he spotted Clarke, though, he stopped dancing and scurried over to her, moving at a pretty brisk pace for someone who had only started walking two months ago. His bare feet padded against the kitchen tile, but he got going so fast that he couldn't stop himself and ran right into Clarke's leg. He fell down on his bottom with a plop.

"Whoa, easy there, buddy," Clarke said, bending down to pick her nephew up.

"I swear, he's gonna be a track star," Octavia predicted. "He runs everywhere now."

"Runs outside," Lincoln added. He opened his arms wide and said, "Come here, Gusto," and Augustus began to squirm in Clarke's arms, wanting his daddy. She set him back down on his own two feet, and he scampered back the way he had come. Lincoln scooped him up with ease.

Okay, hair check, Clarke decided as her friends began conversing again. She bent down to get a glimpse of her reflection in the microwave. It was windy outside, so her loose curls were now even looser, but once she combed her fingers through her hair a bit, she decided it still looked good enough.

"You look great," Emori said, sauntering into the kitchen. "Bellamy's not gonna know what hit him."

Clarke smiled, hoping that was true. So often these days, he saw her with her hair in a messy ponytail and in clothes with baby drool and sometimes vomit all over them. Date night was a rare thing, but it was something he'd insisted on for her twenty-third birthday.

"Are you sure you guys are gonna be able to handle it tonight?" Clarke asked, checking the fridge to make sure that she had a couple of bottles of breastmilk in there for the baby.

"Oh, please, John and I are pros," Emori boasted. "I think I've changed almost as many diapers as you have."

"Almost," Clarke agreed. "You guys have been such a big help. Seriously, I don't know how Bellamy and I would manage without you." Murphy and Emori watched the baby when she and Bellamy needed a nap, they babysat on the days both she and he had to work. Living there had made them a permanent fixture in the baby's life, so no one, not even Octavia, had questioned the decision to make them the godparents.

"Look at him," Emori said, leaning back against the counter, staring into the living room.

At first, Clarke thought she was saying to look at Augustus, whom Murphy was playfully and carefully wrestling, but that sultry smile on Emori's lips made it clear that she was talking about Murphy instead.

"He's such marriage material," she said.

Clarke thought that was a stretch, but then again, Murphy just wasn't her type. "That must be why you're marrying him," she said.

"Yeah." Emori gazed down at the ring on her finger and smiled. "Alright, well, have fun tonight, birthday girl," she said. "And remember, you look slammin'."

Clarke put her hand on her stomach, happy to have shed most of the weight. There were a couple of pounds that were probably never going to go away, but for the most part, she felt confident about how she looked. It was all thanks to those fitness classes Octavia taught. They were brutal, but they worked wonders.

"Clarke, come join us!" Harper called from the living room. "We're gonna get him dancing again."

"He doesn't need any dance advice from me," Clarke pointed out, checking to make sure that all the emergency numbers clipped up there: her mom, her stepdad, Bellamy's mom, Dr. Tsing. She couldn't help but be a little nervous about stepping out for the night, because it'd been so long since she'd done it.

"I'll teach him some moves," Jasper volunteered, jumping to his feet. He started to do some wacky, arm-flailing move that rivaled even Clarke's moves in terms of badness, and Monty booed him.

"Get off the stage!" Niylah heckled, but Jasper just kept dancing until Maya grabbed his hand and pulled him back down to the floor.

Clarke laughed at his antics and checked the time again—7:04—then glanced at the stairs, wondering what was taking Bellamy so long. He'd said he was getting ready, but . . . knowing him, he'd gotten sidetracked.

Sensing she had a few more minutes and could still change if she needed to, she motioned Raven into the kitchen and asked, "How do I look?"

"Amazing," Raven said. Then she laughed.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just remembering the first time you went out on a date with Bellagio. I helped you pick out something to wear. And now here we are."

"Here we are," Clarke agreed. She made a face when she heard something vibrate close by, something that made Raven squirm. "What exactly are you wearing?" Clarke asked her friend.

"Vibrating underwear. Don't judge," Raven replied quickly. "My man has his kinks." She grinned at Roan, who was lounging on their brand new couch, watching his girlfriend lasciviously.

"Not judging," Clarke assured her. "Besides, Bellamy and I have that public sex thing."

"Yeah, when is the last time you guys got down outside the walls of this house?" Raven asked.

"It's been a while," she admitted. Pregnancy and then motherhood . . . it just made her feel more cautious. Plus, she and Bellamy were exhausted a lot of the time. It wasn't like they could have sex every single night anymore. They still made it a priority, sure, but . . . they had other priorities now, too.

"Well, maybe it'll happen tonight," Raven said hopefully.

"Maybe." If the opportunity presented itself, she definitely wasn't opposed to it.

"Just don't get arrested."

"We'll try not to."

"Who's getting arrested?" Jackson asked, craning his neck back as he listened in to their conversation.

"No one," Clarke said, shuffling towards her friends. "Bellamy and I are gonna go out and have a nice, lovely dinner tonight. And Murphy, if you say anything about Bellamy eating out, I swear to God . . ."

"Wasn't gonna," he said as he lay down and lifted a giggling, gurgling Augustus into the air. "Not in front of the kid. But at this point, Clarke, the joke doesn't even have to be said to be made. You know what I mean?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Speaking of my brother, though," Octavia segued, "where is he anyway?"

Clarke gave her a look. "Where do you think?"

...

Bellamy sat on the couch in the nursery, his daughter on his lap, an open book in front of her. "And then, Artemis tore the chest hair from the Cyclops," he read, although he wasn't really reading so much as he was telling the story from memory. He'd found graphic novel versions of all the Greek myths, and even though they weren't really meant for little kids, his daughter seemed to like the colorful pictures.

"She just tore it right out, see?" he said, pointing to the appropriate picture. "And that's how he learned not to mess with her, because she's pretty tough. Just like you are, Miss Gina Roma Blake." He kissed the top of her head, where more and more dark, curly hair was starting to grow in each day.

His little girl cooed, as if she understood him, even though he knew she didn't. Not yet. But she was well on her way.

"Yeah, you're tough like Artemis," he said. "So is your Aunt Octavia. That's always who she reminded me of." He turned the page but stopped his storytelling when Gina started to grab at his hand. She'd been reaching for and trying to pick up a lot more items lately; she was getting pretty good.

"Hey, hey, hey, give me that back," he said when she tried to take his wedding ring off his finger. "I need that." He put it back on, right where it belonged. Where it would always belong.

Gina let out some high-pitched screeching noise, and even though it probably sounded like nails on a chalkboard to most of the people downstairs, it was one of the greatest sounds in the world to him.

"Is she being fussy?" Clarke asked as she came into the room.

"No." He glanced up, and when he got a load of his wife's sexy body in that sexy blue dress, his mouth dropped open. "Wow, you look good," he complimented. Lowering his head, he said to Gina, "Doesn't Mommy look good?" and she made some unintelligible sound in response.

"I tried," Clarke said, swaying her hips as she walked in front of him. Any effort to be flirtatious fell by the wayside, however, when she saw what he was reading her. "The Greek myths again, Bellamy?" she said, yanking the book from his hands. "These stories are full of monsters and violence."

"It's educational," he argued. "She needs to know these things. And she likes it a hell of a lot better than that See Spot Run book you got her. Isn't that right, Gina-Bina?"

Their little girl held out her pudgy arms and curled her fingers inward, as if reaching for the book her mother held well out of her reach.

"There's nothing wrong with See Spot Run," Clarke mumbled, putting the Artemis book back on the shelf. "It's a classic."

"It's a classic," he mimicked, bouncing Gina up and down on his leg. "You know what's a classic? My presidents book. She liked that one, too."

"She's definitely your child." Clarke sat down beside him and said, "Here, let me see her."

He passed the baby off, sort of reluctant to part with her, because he just loved holding her and playing with her so much. But he loved watching Clarke interact with her, too. He loved watching Clarke hold her and feed her, loved listening to her sing her to sleep at night. She was such a good mother already. And he felt like he was doing pretty good as a dad, too. Lincoln said he was a natural. So did his mom.

"She's such a mini-you," Clarke said she cuddled their daughter. "Your hair, your eyes."

"I think I'm a little darker, though," he said, holding his arm up to Gina's.

"Yeah, but look at her cheeks. Look at those freckles," Clarke said. "That's such a you thing."

"Yeah, it is," he agreed. It made him proud that his daughter looked so much like him, but he could see plenty of Clarke in her, too. Clarke's mouth, Clarke's nose, Clarke's ears. "I think she's gonna be artistic like you, though," he told her. "She likes that Crayola board thing."

"I like that Crayola board thing," Clarke said. "I gotta hand it to Jasper, he gives good presents."

"Yeah, and lots of 'em," Bellamy said, looking around the room. "She's got plenty of toys already." Most of them were things she couldn't even play with yet or didn't want to, but they'd spark her interest at some point in the near future. At this rate, he was gonna have to build another toy chest just to house all of her stuffed animals alone.

"Aw, she deserves more toys, though," Clarke said as she cradled the baby and gently rocked her from side to side. "Because she's perfect."

"She is," Bellamy readily agreed. He had yet to find one fault with her yet. "Honestly, Clarke, I think we made the perfect kid."

"I think so, too!"

"And you know what's gonna be really perfect?" He smirked. "When she says Dada as her first word."

"Nope, it's gonna be Mama," Clarke claimed.

"Yeah, right." They had a legitimate bet going over this, one that was sex-related and involved costumes, and he had no doubt that he was going to win.

"Well, it's not fair, you know," she complained. "The D sound is so much easier than the M one."

"Well, my mom's been tryin' to teach her to say Nana. So she might get us both," he pointed out.

"Hmm, maybe."

"But I don't think so. And you know what else I think? I think she's gonna start talking earlier than my Dad app says she will. Because I can see it in her eyes. She wants to speak. She wants to say Dada. Don't you, sweetheart?" He tapped her little nose, and she smiled a bit, but that smile morphed into a yawn, and her precious little eyes began to close.

"She wants to sleep. That's what she wants to do," Clarke said, getting up. Bellamy followed her as she brought Gina over to the crib and lay her down on her back. "She wants to sleep while Mommy and Daddy go out on their date."

"You're a pretty hot date," he told her, slinking his arm around her waist.

"You're not too bad yourself." She turned to face him and kissed him, and he was halfway tempted to just drag her into the bedroom and keep kissing her—everywhere. But she pulled away and said, "Come on, we gotta leave if we wanna make our dinner reservation." She started to drag him out of the room, but they'd only made it halfway to the stairs when he dashed back, double-checked that the baby monitor was turned on, and reached down into the crib to touch the top of his little girl's head. "Goodnight, Princess," he whispered before he reluctantly left the nursery. He couldn't help but worry about leaving her for the night. He and Clarke had others watch her during the day sometimes, but they hadn't left her at night before. And this was supposed to be all night. They had a room at a hotel all booked up. It was just a long time to be without her.

He knew she was in good hands, though, when he walked downstairs and saw all their friends there. Murphy and Emori watched her a lot, and hell, Octavia and Lincoln had more experience than he and Clarke had. Miller, Raven, everybody . . . they were all good with her. And they all loved her a lot. Even little Augustus had always seemed fascinated by this little person who was even littler than he was.

"Go, get out, have fun," Octavia said. "We're all good here."

"Got it covered," Miller agreed.

"Just call us if you need anything," Clarke said.

"And if she wakes up and starts crying, just list off all the presidents for her and leave off Trump at the end," Bellamy told them. "That always works."

His friends looked at him with dumbfounded expressions on their faces.

"What?" he said.

"I think you're the only one who can do that, nerd," Raven teased.

"Seriously?" Hadn't these people ever learned the presidents song? He was gonna teach Gina.

"You guys are gonna be late," Emori noted. "Head out."

"Yeah, go make another baby," Murphy suggested, and everyone laughed.

"Oh my god," Clarke groaned, walking through the door as Bellamy held it open for her. She acted exasperated when Murphy said that, but Bellamy noticed the faint hints of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. No, there would be no more baby-making tonight. In fact, he was under strict orders to wear a condom for the time being. But sometimes he forgot, and she didn't seem all that perturbed about it when he did. So someday in the not too distant future, maybe within the next two years or so . . . yeah. They'd have another baby.

He couldn't wait.

...

Arkadia, being the small town that it was, didn't have much in the way of dining options. It was pretty much just bar food, Valentino's, Burger Hut, or Subway. So when an actual restaurant called Evangeline's opened up, it was a big freaking deal. Whenever anyone had any special occasion to celebrate, it seemed they went there to do so, which is why it required a reservation to even get in. Clarke hadn't expected Bellamy to take her there for her birthday, especially since the food was so expensive, but he'd said she deserved it.

"This place is really nice," she said, looking around, surveying the fancy décor. There were a bunch of clocks on the walls, big ones, small ones, all of them slightly more old-fashioned and possibly antiques.

"Yeah, a lot nicer than Valentino's," Bellamy agreed.

"I like Valentino's, though." That buffet had been her best friend when she'd been pregnant, because she'd just been so damn hungry all the time.

"Yeah, I like it, too," he said, taking a drink. "Hey, did you hear Lincoln wants to open up a restaurant?"

"I did hear that," she said. "He and Nyko wanna make Trikru, like, this whole brand in Arkadia. Trikru art gallery, Trikru restaurant, Trikru . . . I don't know, photography or something."

"Lincoln's got a pretty good head for business," Bellamy remarked. "I think he could make some money off of it." He sighed, looking down at his lap for a moment before saying, "You okay if we never make that much money?"

"Bellamy." She gave him a look. Money stuff was . . . a point of contention sometimes. They didn't argue much, but when they did, it was often about how they were going to pay for things. Between his classes and the baby expenses, things were a little tight sometimes. But they managed. They always would.

"You know what? Once we save up, I wanna fix up the whole house, though," he announced. "We got this whole basement, but it's just . . . space."

"Yeah, it's scary down there," Clarke agreed.

"But I could work on it. We could have a finished basement." His eyes started to light up at the thought. "When Gina's old enough, we could put her room down there."

"Why down there?"

"Well, so she doesn't hear us . . . you know." He wriggled his eyebrows.

Clarke laughed. "Good idea. Oh, but wait a minute. What about when she's old enough to have a boyfriend? We can't have her in the basement then."

"Ugh," Bellamy groaned, rubbing his forehead. "No. I don't even wanna think about that."

"I'm guessing she's gonna hit the genetic jackpot like you and your sister did," Clarke anticipated. "So she's gonna have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. It's inevitable."

"And I'm gonna have . . . a Rottweiler and a gun," Bellamy decided. "Let's see anybody even try to ask her out then."

"You are not getting a gun," she told him.

"Do you want her doin' the things we do? You want her having sex, getting pregnant?"

Clarke thought about it, cringing. "Maybe you're getting a gun," she reconsidered. Anything to help put that protective dad image out there and dissuade the boys.

"See, this is why girls are tough," he said. "My mom always said, with boys, you only have to worry about one penis. With girls, you have to worry about every penis in the world."

"True." Clarke sighed heavily. "Well, we'll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Yep," he agreed, shutting up about it when the waiter came by with their salads. He placed their bowls down in front of them, along with several options for dressing, and asked, "Anything else I can get you two?"

"Just make sure the food's top notch," Bellamy said. "It's my girl's twenty-third birthday, so . . ."

"Oh, happy birthday," the waiter told her.

"Thanks." She couldn't be exactly sure, but she was thinking that, a year ago on her birthday, she and Bellamy had conceived Gina.

When the waiter left, she started to pick at her salad, never really a fan of lettuce. She could eat a salad, just because it was healthy, but she didn't actually enjoy it. Luckily, Bellamy gave her all his croutons and the two pieces of boiled egg he'd gotten in his.

"You know me well," she said, popping one crouton into her mouth.

"Better than anyone?" he asked.

She nodded, smiling. "Better than anyone." This man sitting across from her . . . not only was he her husband and the amazing father of her child, but he was still her best friend. And he always would be.

He smiled at her, too.

Halfway through their salads, Clarke heard two familiar voices say, "Mrs. Blake!" and when she looked over to her right, she saw Charlotte and Madi, two students from her after school art club, scurrying towards her.

"Oh, hi, girls," she said, using her napkin to wipe off her mouth. "How are you guys?"

"Good," Madi replied.

"Are you guys here with your parents?"

"Yep," Charlotte chirped. She eyed Bellamy curiously and said, "Are you Mrs. Blake's husband?"

"I am," he said. "I've heard a lot about you guys. She says you're good artists."

Charlotte blushed.

"I'm better than she is," Madi boasted.

"No, you're not," Charlotte snapped.

Clarke laughed at their competitiveness and said, "Well, the school year's winding down, so we don't have that many art club days left."

Both the girls pouted, so she quickly assured them, "But we're gonna do it next year, too."

"Yes!" they exclaimed. When their parents called them back over to their table, they said, "Bye, Mrs. Blake," and Charlotte added, "Bye, Mr. Blake."

"Bye," he said, waving at them. "Mr. Blake." He chuckled, shaking his head. "That sounds so old."

"That sounds very teacherly," she hinted. "You know, the junior high social studies teacher's gonna retire in a couple years. If you have your degree by then . . ."

"I know, I know," he said, setting his salad aside. "I could teach at the school, you could teach at the school."

"Well, I gotta take a few classes, too," she said. "But the principal said he'd hire me. I mean, I never really envisioned myself as an art teacher, but . . . I think it'd be a good fit."

"It'd be a great fit," Bellamy agreed. "Just imagine it: You and me, working together." He grinned and licked his lips. "We could have sex in our classrooms."

"And then we could get fired in our classrooms," she said, crushing his dreams.

"Okay, scratch that then."

She laughed, still liking this vision for their future. "I think it could work," she said. "We could end up teaching Gina someday."

"That's good. I like that," he said. "Because then I can keep an eye on all the potential boyfriends, and then I might not even need a gun."

"Or a . . . what was it? A Rottweiler?" She made a face.

"No, I don't really want a Rottweiler, but I do want a dog," he blurted. "A puppy."

"A puppy?" She sat back, crossing her arms over her chest. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. There's this guy down the street selling Golden Retriever puppies. I think we should get one," he proposed. "For Gina."

"Oh, for Gina, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Don't even try to use your daughter as an excuse, Bellamy. You don't want it for her; you want it for you."

"No, for her, too," he insisted. "So she has a companion growing up."

"She'll have Augustus," Clarke pointed out. "She'll have siblings."

"Ooh." Bellamy grinned. "How many siblings?"

"That's beside the point. The point is, I don't know if we need a puppy." That sounded like a whole lot of extra work in addition to a baby.

"Please?" Bellamy begged. "I never got to have a dog before."

"I never got to have any pets. Except this goldfish named Ollie, who died and had to be flushed down the toilet. It was traumatizing."

"Kids love dogs, though," Bellamy persisted. "And dogs love kids. Especially Golden Retrievers. Come on, Clarke, let's be great parents. Let's get Gina a dog before she even knows she wants one."

She wanted to stand firm on the whole thing, but . . . oh, dammit, that look in his eyes was so hopeful and adorable. And she had seen some cute dog and baby videos on Youtube a couple weeks ago. And really, she'd always wanted some kind of pet growing up, something fuzzy and furry that she could cuddle with. Her mom had just been so vehemently opposed to animals that she'd never gotten to have one. "Fine, get a dog," she told him. "But he's not sleeping on the bed with us."

"That's it?" Bellamy said, sounding surprised. "That's your one stipulation?"

"Well, yeah." She shrugged. "Bellamy, you and I need our bed for . . ."

"Making Gina's siblings?" he filled in.

"Well, someday, yeah."

He smirked. "Sounds good to me."

When the waiter came back to their table with their meals, Clarke caught a whiff of it and almost vomited. It was definitely seafood, and she wasn't a seafood fan. During her pregnancy, Murphy had cooked up this salmon, and the lingering smell of it had made her puke for days.

"Here you go," the waiter said, putting their plates down in front of them. "Calamari."

"Cala-" Bellamy tried to smile and said, "Oh, so this is tonight's surprise special?"

"This is the surprise special," the waiter said. "You two enjoy."

Clarke stared at her plate in horror, still able to make out some of the . . . tentacles. "Oh my god, Bellamy," she said before lowering her voice to mimic him. "'Come on, Clarke, be spontaneous. Just order the special. Let's be surprised.' Well, surprise, we're eating squid."

He lifted up a piece and made a face before putting it back down again. "We could try it," he said. "Can't be any worse than that rabbit I ate that one time."

"Do you really wanna eat this?" she challenged.

"Well, no, but I shelled out forty bucks for this meal, babe."

She knew that, and she felt bad for not even trying it, but . . . calamari was just a no go for her. And it was, after all, her birthday.

"Do you wanna go somewhere else?" he asked, seeming to sense that she wasn't going to touch what was on her plate.

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" He moved his food around his plate a bit, as if he were trying to make it look like he'd eaten some, and then said, "Well, where do you wanna go?"

Hmm, she thought. This was the only real sit-down restaurant in Arkadia. But that didn't mean they didn't have some other options.

...

Bellamy walked out into the parking lot with an ice cream cone in each hand: chocolate for Clarke, vanilla for him. Her face lit up when she saw it.

"Perfect," she said, taking it from him. "Thank you."

"Mmm-hmm." He hopped up beside her on the bed of the pickup truck, and they sat there together in the Walmart parking lot, having dessert for dinner. It was from the McDonald's inside, so it was cheap as hell. But it was actually pretty damn good.

"So much better than calamari," she raved, swirling her tongue around the side of it. "Let's not go back to that place."

"Works for me." He'd never be into all that super fancy stuff. Marcus and Abby had taken Clarke and him out a few times before the baby was born to restaurants like that, and he always had to scour the menu for something that sounded even remotely appetizing. "I don't know why I even took you there. I should've known you wouldn't like it."

"Well, maybe if we'd ordered something else," she said. "But no, this is good. I love ice cream."

"I can tell." With his thumb, he brushed a bit of it off her bottom lip for her. God, she was so cute. There wasn't a day that went by that she didn't do something adorable. She and Gina were alike in that way.

"Hey, Bellamy?" she said, looking around the parking lot. "I think this is where we first met."

"Well, no shit," he said.

"No, I mean, like, right here," she emphasized. "In this exact spot."

He looked around, too, trying to remember back that far, over a year and a half ago. He put himself there in his mind, chasing after his watermelon as it veered straight for her, and . . . "I think you're right," he said, smiling as he reminisced. "It was right here."

"Runaway watermelon."

"Yeah. Thank God it did that." It was crazy to think how that one, simple moment had changed his life so profoundly. He never would have anticipated it at the time. "Look where we are now."

"Still in the same parking lot."

"No, but . . . in life," he clarified. "We have a beautiful daughter. We're married. We owe a lot to that watermelon if you really think about it." Maybe it'd been fate's way of intervening, stupid as that sounded.

"Hmm, we do," she said, angling her body towards his. "I wonder what ever became of it."

"I think Miller ate it." He shrugged.

"God, it is weird, though," she said. "We have a four month-old baby. And we've been married for six months."

"Six months of pure bliss, I'm sure," he joked.

She snorted, shaking her head. But then she said, "No, it has been pretty good, though."

"Yeah." They'd had a lot of sleepless nights with Gina so far, and that was only going to continue. They'd gotten stressed and pissed, sometimes even at each other, and that was gonna happen again, too. It was inevitable. But it never seemed like they went to bed angry. He told her he loved her every night, and she told him the same. As long as that never changed—and it wouldn't—the vows they'd made to each other would be easy to keep for the rest of their lives.

"I still wanna take you on a real honeymoon, though," he told her. "Because a few days in D.C. . . . that's not good enough."

"I thought it was fun," she said.

"No, we should go somewhere this summer," he said as he continued to eat his rapidly melting ice cream.

"Where?"

"I don't know. Wherever you want."

"Hmm." She thought about it for a moment, then suggested, "We could take another road trip."

"And have sex on an open highway?"

"Oh my god." She covered her face, shaking her head in embarrassment. "There are some things our daughter can just never know about. That's one of them."

"And getting arrested," he added.

"That, too." She laughed a little despite herself and then returned to the honeymoon topic. "Okay, so we're gonna fix up the basement, get a dog, go on a honeymoon, raise a kid, at some point have another baby . . ."

"Yep." Sounded like the American dream to him.

"How exactly are we gonna afford all this?"

"Well . . ." He'd work his ass off, that was how. But logistically, he could only work so much. "Okay, the basement can wait a few years."

"So can the honeymoon," she said.

"No." He really regretted not being able to give her a week-long honeymoon somewhere. It was just that she'd been too far along in the pregnancy to really travel anywhere far from home, and most of the money he'd saved up had been spent on the wedding itself. Even small, short-notice weddings were expensive.

"Bellamy, I don't need a honeymoon," she said.

"Because every day you spend with me is a honeymoon? I know," he joked. "But, Clarke . . . we deserve one. Or at least you do. You literally gave birth to the world's most perfect human being. That's amazing."

"Well, I couldn't have done it without you," she recalled. "I was so scared."

"I know." Gina had come a few weeks early, so his stomach had been in knots, too. And Clarke had opted to have a natural childbirth, so . . . to say that it had been painful for her was an understatement. But she was a badass; he'd never doubted she could do it.

"Well, maybe we can plan a cheap honeymoon then," she said. "Like . . . Hershey, Pennsylvania or something."

"Isn't that where they have that chocolate factory?"

"Yes, and I for one would be very content at the chocolate factory."

He took one look at her ice cream cone, which had very little ice cream left on it, and knew she was being serious. He had visions of something like Hawaii, though, or Florida. Just somewhere far from home where she could completely mellow out and relax. Maybe they could take her parents up on that offer to go to Aruba. If they were willing to help . . . well, he could suck it up and not turn it down.

"Where do you wanna go next tonight?" she asked him, nudging his side.

"Well, we could go check into the hotel," he said.

"We could. Or . . ." She hopped down off the bed of the truck and stood in between his legs, putting her hands on his thighs. "We could go somewhere else."

He stared at her curiously, wondering what she had in mind. But Arkadia didn't have many options, and he had feeling he knew.

...

When Clarke came out of Dropship's bathroom, she saw that Bellamy, still sitting at the bar, was now surrounded by people. Men, women, even the bartender. He was showing off pictures of Gina on his phone, as he often did, and everyone was saying how beautiful she was and how cute the pictures were.

"You did good, Bellamy," the bartender said.

"Best thing I've ever done in my life," he agreed.

When Clarke ambled back up to him and squeezed back into her seat, people started to disperse, but not without also telling her what a precious baby Gina was. She thanked them, though of course she already knew that.

"I don't even know some of those people," she said, taking a drink.

He shrugged. "People I've worked for. Some people I went to high school with."

"You know everyone."

"Pretty much, yeah."

She looked around, remembering how she'd sat at this bar and waited for him over a year and a half ago, so nervous that he wouldn't show up and that the guy from the Walmart parking lot would always be just that, nothing more.

"I hope you don't mind coming here," she said. It was a far cry from that Evangeline's restaurant, but it was a piece of home. And the nachos were to die for. "I just thought . . . why not, you know? This is kinda where we had our first date."

"I remember," he said. Taking another drink, he grinned at her and recalled, "I wanted to get in your pants so bad."

"Well, congrats, you did." She still didn't know what had possessed her to hook up with him that night when it was so totally not something she normally would have done. But she had no regrets. Obviously. Things worked out the way they were supposed to.

"This is where we first got to know each other," he said, patting the bar. "Right here. You couldn't even remember my name at first."

"Well, in my defense, it's not a common name."

"And then we played some pool," he went on, "hung out for a while."

"It was a fun night," she said, casting a quick glance over her shoulder towards the bathroom, or more specifically, the hallway right outside the bathroom. It was dimly-lit, pretty secluded, and perhaps not the most romantic location for a first kiss. But the way Bellamy had started to make out with her there had set her whole body on fire. "We had our first kiss right back there," she reminisced. "You ambushed me when I came out of the bathroom."

"I ambushed you?" he resounded.

"Yeah, but I wanted to be ambushed." She took another sip of her beer, nearing the bottom of the glass now. "And it was a good kiss."

"Yeah, it was," he agreed. He got this mischievous look on his face and started to lean in, like he wanted to kiss her now. She leaned in, too, meeting his lips, and god, it felt just as good as it had that first night. Maybe even better. Because the person she was kissing was no longer a relative stranger. He was the person she'd chosen to build a life with, to have a family with. He was . . . her other half. As cheesy as that sounded.

The tip of his tongue brushed against hers, and whenever she felt Bellamy's tongue during a kiss, that was usually a telltale indicator that he wanted to do a little more than kissing. He sat back, though, just smiling at her, and she pretended not to know what he had on his mind.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said as his eyes began to roam all over her. "It's just . . . I really wanna make love to my wife right now."

"Make love to her?" she challenged. "Or fuck her?" There was a definitely a difference, but he was a consummate professional when it came to either one.

Bellamy's mischievous grin intensified, and he didn't answer. But he didn't really need to. It was obvious.

She downed the rest of her beer, set the empty glass down on the counter, and slid off her bar stool. "Let's go," she said, grabbing his hand.

He slapped a couple of bucks down on the counter and let her drag him out the door, through the parking lot. Sure, they had a hotel room booked up that they could check into whenever they liked, but . . . who were they kidding? They both knew where this was going down.

Five minutes later, after some very minimal but effective foreplay, Clarke found herself in the backseat of the truck with her husband, on his lap, holding onto the seat with one hand and his shoulder with the other as she rode him. With it being so warm out, the windows hadn't fogged up very much, and they were going at it hard enough and fast enough that she felt like they might actually be making the truck rock. So there was a very real chance that anyone who walked by or looked outside would know exactly what was going on. But she didn't care. Bellamy was inside her, and that was the only thing that mattered.

She panted for air as they moved together, hips colliding as he thrust up to meet her. The only sounds he was making were these low, guttural groans that sounded so turned on, she didn't know how he was managing to hold off on cumming. Like always, he probably wanted to get her there first. And he would in no time.

"Oh god," she gasped, angling herself just right so that her clit was rubbing against him. "Bellamy . . ."

He reached behind her, hiking her dress up even further, and squeezed the round globes of her ass hard, pushing her even closer to him. She felt like he was all the way in, or at least close to it, and it was such a good feeling. She loved the way he filled her up.

She grinded down on him, desperately seeking release, and her hair fell on either side of her face when she lowered her head to his. He kissed her sloppily, never once breaking their rhythm and murmured against her mouth, "Come on, baby."

Oh, the way he talked to her when they were going at it . . . it was almost as hot as the sex itself. And it was just what she needed to push her over the edge. Her whole body clenched and squeezed as she flew apart, and she had to quit bouncing and just stilled as she came. On its own accord, her pussy clamped down around his cock, pulsating and tingling with the amazing sensations coursing through her body. He thrust up into her a few more times, and her own orgasm seemed to have triggered his, because he came just a few seconds after she did.

They collapsed in a heap afterwards, both of them sweaty and satiated, and Clarke kept him inside of her, not wanting to part.

"Good to know truck fucking's still our specialty," she said breathily.

He laughed dazedly, running his hands through her hair. They lay together in the backseat for several minutes, just holding each other, breathing together, recovering.

"I love you so much, Clarke," he said out of nowhere, his breath tickling her face.

She lifted her head, smiling down at him, and said, "I love you, too." Then they kissed each other again, both of their mouths lazy and tired now, but still unable to stop.

They redressed and left Dropship shortly after that, and Bellamy drove them to the hotel they'd booked for the night. It was an Arkadia hotel, so it wasn't the world's nicest hotel or anything, but it would serve its purpose: getting them out of the house for the night. One night away, all to themselves.

Just one night.

Bellamy shut off the truck, and they sat there outside the building, neither one of them making a move to get out and go inside. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was, if he had the same desire to turn around and go home that she did.

It wasn't that they didn't trust their friends to watch Gina for the night. It was just that . . . they missed her.

"You wanna just go home?" he asked her.

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" He stuck the key back in the ignition and said, "Me, too." Starting up the truck, he smiled at her and shook his head, like he couldn't believe they were giving up a night alone to go home and be woken up by a crying baby every couple hours. But they were used to it, and as tired as it made them, they loved it.

When they got home, the house was mostly dark and very quiet. The only light in the living room was from the TV, and the only people still there were Lincoln, Octavia, and Augustus. Lincoln lay on the couch with his son on his stomach, and both of them were sleeping. Octavia was curled up in the recliner, flipping channels on the TV. She set the remote aside and stood up when Bellamy and Clarke walked in.

"What're you guys doing here?" she asked them.

"We decided we'd just come home," Bellamy replied.

"We wanted to see Gina," Clarke confessed.

Octavia rolled her eyes and shook her head. "She's fine, you know. She slept for a while, then she woke up and we fed her, changed her diaper, and now she's sleeping again."

"When did everyone else leave?" Bellamy asked, toeing off his shoes.

"About an hour ago," Octavia answered. "They love these kids, but they get worn out pretty easily."

"Even Murphy and Emori?" Clarke asked.

"I'm pretty sure they're working on a kid of their own," Octavia said. "I heard sounds."

"Well, thanks for staying," Bellamy said, giving his sister a hug. "You're a good aunt."

"And you're an okay uncle," she retorted. "Most of the time."

"Most of the time?"

"Fine, all the time," she conceded before yawning. "Well, if you guys are home, we're gonna go," she said. Turning around, she said, "Lincoln?"

He quickly woke up just by hearing her say his name.

"Let's go," she said.

He sat up slowly, careful not to disturb Augustus, and stood up, holding his son securely in his arms. Augustus's head rested on his father's broad shoulder, and Clarke noticed he was sucking his thumb. "He's so cute," she said, giving him a kiss on his soft little cheek as Lincoln carried him past. She and Bellamy were going to have to have a son, too. Even if it took three or four more babies, Bellamy deserved to have a little boy who he could teach to be a great man, just like he was.

"Bye, buddy," Bellamy said, giving his nephew's head an affectionate little rub before Lincoln carried him out the door.

"Happy birthday," Lincoln told Clarke one more time.

"Thanks."

Octavia was left to carry her son's toys out, and they were all shoved into a bag that probably weighed half as much as she did. She stopped on her way out and gave Clarke a hug and said, "Happy birthday, sister-in-law. Hope you had a good one."

"Oh, I did," Clarke promised her, shooting a grin at Bellamy.

"Gross," Octavia said, seeming to sense what they were referencing. She waved goodbye to both of them and walked out the door.

Bellamy shut off the TV and then followed Clarke upstairs. But she went straight into their bedroom while he first slipped into the nursery. She got out of her dress and got into one of his t-shirts, then pulled back the covers on the bed and rearranged the pillows just the way they liked, making sure to put one of the smaller pillows down in the middle of the bed as she lay down.

When Bellamy came into the room, a precious sleeping Gina was in his arms. "She's out of it," he said. "I think she's dreaming."

"Hmm, I wonder what she dreams about," Clarke mused. "Maybe her daddy?"

He sat down on his side of the bed, gazing at their daughter with love in his eyes. "You think so?"

"Well, I mean, I dream about her daddy."

"Different kinds of dreams, Clarke." He set Gina down on the pillow in between them and lay down beside her on his side. Clarke did the same, facing him and facing her, and she touched Gina's tiny little hand with her fingertip. Gina's fingers instinctively curled around her finger.

"Gina Roma Blake," Clarke cooed in a sing-song voice. "We must really love you. We cut our date night short for you."

"This is better," Bellamy said, stroking the back of his hand across his daughter's cheek. "I don't wanna be away from her."

"Me, neither," Clarke said. "Especially not when she's so perfect."

"So perfect," he agreed emphatically. "Just like you."

She shook her head, denying that. "I'm not perfect."

"To me, you are," he said, smiling at her lovingly.

She smiled back, thinking the same about him. It didn't matter if they fought or disagreed on things from time to time. It didn't matter if the days were easy like this one or hard like some of the others. Through it all, he was the perfect person for her, the perfect companion for the rest of her life.

"You know we can't let her sleep in here all night," she said, feeling like her eyes could fall shut at any minute. "When are you gonna put her back in her crib?"

"Mmm," he murmured, sounding like he was about to fall asleep, too. "Eventually."

Eventually, she thought, feeling completely and utterly content as she lay there with the two most important people in the world to her, in no big hurry to move. Yeah. Eventually sounded good.

...

THE END