Archive of Our Own

"So," says Octavia, "you need cash, right?"

Bellamy regards his sister warily. "The last time you asked me that, you were signing up to do experimental medical trials and wanted someone to go with you in case they were going to try and steal your kidneys."

"And you were really glad I asked, because you were totally worried about the same thing as soon as I told you. But no medical experiments, I promise. You have a four-day weekend coming up, right?"

"Yes, and I'm really excited about it. I'm going to play Skyrim the whole time and not put on pants."

"Everything about that is depressing. And you'd rather make money, right? Like, a lot of money."

He sighs. "It's the afternoon. We should be busy. Why doesn't anyone want coffee? I could be doing my job right now."

"A thousand bucks."

Bellamy pauses. "A thousand bucks?"

"At least a thousand."

"Please tell me this isn't a drug deal, O. I raised you better than that."

"It's not a drug deal. It's--a date."

"Are you trying to pimp me out? Seriously? How did you even find a pimping opportunity? Were you on the miscellaneous jobs section of craigslist again?"

"It's called ETC and no." She bites her lip. "You know my friend Clarke?"

"The blonde one, right? Intense, kind of scary, takes trivia really seriously?"

"Yeah."

"You're pimping me out to your actual friends?"

"No, it's not pimping, okay? Just shut up and listen. Clarke's ex-boyfriend's sister is getting married, and she RSVPed to the wedding with a plus one because her ex is obviously going to be there and she really didn't want to go alone." She pauses. "Also, alcohol was involved. Like, a lot of alcohol. Anyway, she's been asking everyone if they'll go with her, but no one can--Wells and I have to work, Raven's already got a date, Monty's gay and her ex knows it, and--she doesn't actually have any other friends. She's kind of anti-social. So she's really desperate and looking up escort services."

"No one actually hires escorts."

"That's what I said! Look, I'm not saying she's going to get her kidneys stolen if she tries to hire someone, but if she doesn't, she's going to get murdered. So she should just give the money she was going to give to some weirdo she found on craigslist to you instead, and then she won't get killed. It's perfect!"

"Only you would say that your friend literally paying me to go on a date with her is perfect. This is screwed up, O."

"You wear a nice suit, go to a fancy wedding, get a bunch of money. I don't see what part of this is bad."

"The part where it sounds like the plot of a bad romantic comedy? Seriously, no one does this in real life."

"Only because they don't have awesome sisters who hook them up with awesome opportunities. But you have me!"

"You actually think this is a good idea."

She considers. "So--this guy kind of screwed Clarke up. Her and Raven both. Raven's got a new boyfriend and she's doing okay, but Clarke's last girlfriend crashed and burned too, and the ex is bringing a fiancee of his own, so--I want her to have a nice weekend where she's not feeling sad and alone. I think you guys will get along, you seemed to like her when you met her before. And I know you'll take better care of her than some random dude she literally hired--"

"She's hiring me too. I'm just slightly less random."

"Just talk to her, okay? Get dinner and see if you think it could work out. That's all I ask."

He rubs his face. "Did you tell her about this?"

"I told her to let me talk to you before she hired anyone, and she agreed. I also told her you would be free for dinner tonight if she wanted to talk about it."

"I honestly can't tell if you're trying to match-make right now or just being overprotective and weird. Please tell me you're not trying to set me up with your friend."

"I'm trying to get you money and her a date." She pauses. "Okay, it's pretty straight pimping, yeah."

Bellamy sighs. It's a really shitty idea, but--he did like Clarke, when he met her, and it sounds like a shitty situation, so it makes sense all the solutions are shitty too. And if she's willing to give him a grand for four days of his life, that's not the kind of thing he can turn down. He could really use the extra cash.

"When am I meeting her?"

"I knew I could count on you."

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

Octavia just grins and pats him on the arm. "No way. You're doing a good deed. Clarke would be so sad without her kidneys."

"Thanks. That makes me feel so much better."

*

Clarke thinks it might actually be worse, meeting someone she actually knows for the hey, I'd like to pay you to take me to a wedding conversation. Hiring an escort would be weird; hiring Bellamy Blake is awkward on an entirely new level.

She's met Bellamy a few times, at group things with Octavia. She likes him well enough--they had a pretty good conversation about medieval literature at Octavia's graduation, and he's always struck her as smart and cool, with a sense of humor she appreciates, which means it's mostly sarcasm.

Also, as she recalls, he's pretty hot. So she could certainly do a lot worse, as fake dates go.

But it's pretty embarrassing that he even knows about the stupid wedding debacle, let alone that he's agreed to potentially let her pay him to accompany her. It's the kind of thing she doesn't want to care about--she's happy, she's fulfilled. She has friends and a job she loves and a cat. Her life is pretty awesome. Not having a significant other really isn't a big deal; she's never been one of those people who lets her relationships define her.

She checked plus one on her invitation, though, and if she shows up alone, she's going to have an empty seat next to her the whole time, a constant, stupid reminder that she said she had someone and she doesn't.

So, Bellamy Blake it is.

He's waiting outside Wells' restaurant for her, looking about as she remembered him, tousled black curls and broad shoulders, dressed in a black polo shirt and jeans. He smiles when he sees her, and Clarke feels herself calm down at the sight of him. He wouldn't have agreed to this if he was just going to laugh at her. She doesn't know him that well, but he's not that guy.

"Hey," she says. "Long time."

"Well, nothing brings people together like semi-prostitution," he says, with a grin like they're sharing a joke. Not laughing at her, laughing with her. To be fair, it's an absurd situation. It's good to establish that right away.

"If people don't come together, it's pretty bad prostitution," she shoots back. "Seriously, thanks. I have no idea what Octavia told you--"

"She definitely made it sound like she was pimping me out."

"She kind of was. But in a well-meaning way."

"Well, that's the important thing." He holds the door open for her, and Maya's eyes light up when she sees the two of them. Maya doesn't know about the plot, of course. Maya probably thinks she's on a date. The entire staff is going to know about this in no time.

"Hey, Clarke! Did you have a reservation? Does Wells know you're coming?"

"I was hoping he'd just give me a table out of loyalty."

"Oh, there's no way we're missing out on this. Hi, Clarke's date."

Bellamy looks amused. "Come here often?"

"My best friend owns the place," she says, as Maya leads them to a nice, private table in the back. "I figured I could definitely get a table, but I forgot about the gossip factor." She offers him a shrug and a sheepish smile. "The food's good, at least."

"Hey, you're the one getting embarrassed in front of your friends. I'm just reaping the benefits."

"I'm glad you've got such a healthy outlook on this."

"Always look on the bright side of life, that's me." He studies her across the table, and Clarke studies him right back. She knew he had freckles, but not this many, and his hair is shaggier than the last time she saw him. He looks tired, and she remembers Octavia saying he was coming straight from work.

He's nice, to be doing this for her. That's a good sign.

"So, seriously," he says. "What's the deal with this? I've had some bad breakups, but I've never decided I need to hire a date for an ex's sister's wedding." He pauses. "Okay, I guess none of my exes have sisters whose weddings I might be invited to, and I probably wouldn't go if I they did, but still."

Clarke has to laugh. "Yeah, I know, it's--totally weird, right? This really wasn't what I was planning. Did Octavia tell you alcohol was involved?"

"She did."

Clarke fidgets with the stem of her water glass, considering. "So, the ex. His name's Finn. We knew each other growing up. His parents went to college with my parents and they lived on the other side of the city, so we'd see each other at weird rich people shit, make fun of all the stuffy republicans. And then my mom told me he moved to New York a year or so after college, and we should have drinks, and we did, and--you know, relationship. It was going really well, until his other girlfriend decided she was moving here too and surprised him."

"Ouch. So that's the fiancee?"

She has to smile. "No, she dumped him too. I think you know her, Raven?"

"Octavia mentioned something about that. Jesus. He was cheating on Raven with you?"

"I know it's a total downgrade, but--"

He rolls his eyes. "I'm just saying, I wouldn't have expected anyone who cheated on Raven to survive. I'm amazed she didn't murder him."

Clarke looks down at her menu to hide her expression. "They grew up together, a lot more than he and I did, but--I dunno. Her mom was his family's housekeeper, so she told me she didn't ever really think he'd stay with her anyway. But it really tore her up, finding out she was right. She still loved him too much to cut him out of her life, but she also couldn't really--he said he was in love with me, so it ruined them too. Everyone kind of crashed and burned for a while."

"But he's over it, apparently."

"Yup. And so is she. And so am I, honestly. The three of us all started new things within, like, a couple weeks of each other, just by accident. Finn's marrying Mel, Raven--well, Raven only just admitted she's actually dating Wick, not sleeping with him casually, and I went out with this girl and had another horrific breakup, so, yeah." She shrugs. "That's why I don't have a date to this wedding."

"And you were invited because of the family friend thing?"

"Yeah. And I like his sister, she's a good kid. She's, like, twenty-two, which honestly doesn't help with my awkwardness issues, but she and her boyfriend have been together forever, so--it makes sense."

"Shotgun wedding?"

She has to smile. "Not as far as I know. True love."

"So much worse." He pauses. "And it's seriously bad enough you're thinking about hiring an escort?"

"People do it, right? If I could find somewhere reputable, it'd be better than--he knows all my friends from when we went out, and I don't think he'd buy that I was dating any of them. And finding an actual relationship in the next week seems ambitious."

"So why'd you put it off so long?"

"An actual relationship seemed ambitious the whole time. And I was just figuring I'd figure it out later." She sighs. "I know, it's really fucking stupid."

"Hey, if you want to pay me a thousand bucks to hang out with you for a weekend. I'm not going to say anything negative about the circumstances that led to that happening."

"I don't want to pay you a thousand bucks," she says, unable to keep the smile off her face. "But you deserve some sort of compensation. It's going to be a fucking nightmare."

"Yeah? Just because of the ex, or do I have other things to look forward to?"

"His parents invited me because they know my parents, like I said, so my parents are also going, and Raven, since she's also friends with his sister, and then a bunch of people who don't know about my history with Finn at all, but are rich and judgmental and douchebaggy."

"Are your parents rich and judgmental and douchebaggy?"

"My dad's fine, but my mom is old money. She's better than a lot of them, but she does ask me very regularly if I'm seeing anyone and tell me my career is beneath me."

"Did you plan ahead enough to tell her you were bringing someone to the wedding?"

"I did! I was on top of that. I said it was new and I wasn't ready to talk about it yet, but they were coming to the wedding." She worries her lip. "It's, uh, in Boston. Which is where my parents are. So I'm just staying with them."

He nods. "Are you springing for a hotel for me? Because if I have to pay, it's going to eat most of my compensation."

"You're invited to stay with us. Or, you know, my parents are planning on having my date stay with us. My mom's very excited." She tucks her hair back. "They're pretty much fine with the concept of me as a sexual individual, so--she's going on the assumption you're just sharing my room."

Apparently, her nervousness shows, because he laughs and nudges her foot with his, friendly and teasing. He's got a pretty good handle on her moods already, which is nice. "I think I can handle a sleepover. I have a little sister, so I've gotten a lot of cootie shots in my life. I'm super-immunized."

"Oh, those are fighting words. I don't have cooties!"

"See? So we're good."

She shakes her head, still smiling. "Yeah, that was definitely my biggest concern."

*

They chat about themselves over appetizers; Bellamy knew a good deal about Clarke just from Octavia's stories, but it's different hearing it from her. She's an elementary-school art teacher, which is apparently not the job her parents dreamed of for her, but she loves it. She was supposed to go to med school, but she worked in an ER the summer before her senior year of college and realized that while she was good at being a doctor, she really didn't like it.

She's rich, obviously. She's paying him a thousand bucks to be her date to a wedding, she'd have to be rich.

She always sounds surprised when she laughs, just a little, like every one is startled out of her, and he makes a game of doing it as much as he can.

She's also very pretty, but he's trying to ignore that part.

When their entrees come, she says, "So, um, if you're really willing to do this, we should talk logistics."

"I'm staying with you and your parents," he says, unsure exactly when he decided he really was willing to do this. Probably as soon as he saw her relieved smile when she saw him. She needs someone to help her with this, and he can do it. There isn't really an option. "There are a bunch of buses to Boston, right?"

"Yeah, but I'm driving down, so I can just give you a ride. I was going to leave after work on Thursday, but if it's better for you we could do Friday morning."

"I get off at seven on Thursday. If that's not too late for you, I can leave from there."

"Yeah, that's fine." She smiles. "That wasn't really what I meant by logistics, though."

"You want my boutineer to match your corsage?" he teases, and is rewarded by the duck of her head and a soft snort of amusement.

If this were a first date, he'd want a second, which is kind of unexpected. He should have gotten to know Clarke sooner.

"How long have we been going out? How serious are we? I figure we can keep the basics of how we met--you're my friend's brother, we met at a few random things, got along okay. And then you asked me out--"

"Oh, I'm making the first move?"

"You don't want to?"

"It's just so cliched. I figured you were a progressive woman, you'd be happy to ask out a hot guy when you wanted to."

She grins. "Oh, yeah, I'm happy to ask out hot guys. But we're talking about you here, so--"

He's laughing, can't help it. "Ouch. That gets me right here," he says, punching his chest.

"It should probably get you in the face. That's what I'm insulting."

"You just want to see me punch myself in the face."

"Absolutely true," she says, unrepentant.

"Okay, fine, I asked you out. Maybe--when did you do the RSVP for the wedding?"

"Last month."

"Okay, so, say it's two months. You weren't sure I was going to make it because it's still new, which is why you didn't tell your parents about me in more detail, but you were optimistic."

"Sure."

"Do your parents know about the history? You and Finn."

"No." She rubs her face. "We'd only been going out for a couple months when everything happened. Which is pathetic, I know. But I don't date a lot, and not unless I'm serious about it, so it was a big deal for me."

Bellamy bites his lip, and then reaches across the table for her hand. He should get used to casual affection with her. "Hey, it's fine. That's fucked up. I'd be upset too."

Clarke squeezes his hand back and starts to reply, but before she can, someone says, "Wow, you really are here on a date."

Bellamy turns to see a vaguely familiar guy, presumably Clarke's best friend, Wells. They've met a couple times, but he left less of an impression than Clarke.

Wells frowns at him. "Wait, I know you. Octavia's brother, right?"

"Bellamy, yeah." He takes his hand from Clarke's to offer it to Wells. "Been a while."

"Yeah," says Wells, looking more at Clarke than Bellamy. "So, not a date."

"Bellamy's going to come to Finn's wedding with me. Since you were all so horrified when I said I was hiring an escort."

"That's because it was horrifying!" says Wells. "You were going to get stabbed."

"There are plenty of perfectly respectable--"

"Even if they are, you can't be sure any of them aren't exploitative," Wells shoots back. Bellamy can't help a smile. Apparently they've been fighting about this.

"Right!" says Clarke, too bright. "So Bellamy's coming with me instead. Better than paid escort you know than the paid escort you don't know, right?"

"You're still paying him?"

"It's still a huge pain for him."

"Everyone needs one friend who'll do anything for some extra cash," Bellamy says mildly. "I'm Octavia's."

"I thought Octavia was Octavia's," Clarke teases, and Bellamy grins.

"Okay, yeah, but she can't take the time off work, so you get me instead."

Wells looks between the two of them, clearly worried, but he finally nods. "Okay, well, uh--let me know how that goes. I'm really sorry I can't make it."

"Finn knows we're not together anyway," Clarke says, shrugging. "Bellamy will be more convincing."

"I bet," Wells mutters. He leans down to give Clarke a hug. "Keep me posted, okay? I want you to live-tweet this thing."

Clarke rolls her eyes. "Don't worry, Wells. It's going to be fine." She flashes Bellamy a smile. "Right?"

"Right," he says.

A thousand bucks and a long weekend with a cool, beautiful girl. He's got this.

*

Clarke goes to the coffee shop where Bellamy works right after work on Thursday, even though he's not off for a few more hours. It's not like she's going to feel better, hanging around her apartment, fretting about the weekend. Bellamy's proved to be a calming influence on her, and--honestly, she's been thinking about him a lot over the last few days. There'd been a tug of interest there, when they talked, something she hasn't felt since Lexa. She always knew he was attractive and cool, but she'd never been in a place to think about it, when they met before.

He gives her a warm smile when she comes into the shop, and leans against the counter, friendly. "You know you're really early, right?"

"I figured I'd kill time here," she says, shrugging. "TV and movies tell me as a twenty-something in New York, I should hang out in coffee shops more."

"Do you have a novel you're working on? You're not really a TV New Yorker if you're not also working on your novel."

"Yeah, it's about how I'm middle class and white and financially stable, but somehow I'm still unfulfilled. I need a carefree girl to come along and teach me how to let go and embrace life."

"But obviously not really about you."

"Obviously not. A fictional person who is totally different from me."

"Of course." He pushes his hair back from his forehead. "Did you want a drink? You do have to buy something if you're going to monopolize one of our tables. No special treatment for fake girlfriends."

"Just a large black coffee would be great."

"Sure," he says, and zeroes out the transaction. "Okay, you're all set."

"I thought I had to buy something."

"You did. You just used one of my free drinks for the day." He grins. "Fake girlfriends do get some perks."

She can't help a smile. "Thanks. But you should maybe get used to calling me just a regular girlfriend. It would be awkward if you called me your fake girlfriend at the wedding."

"Okay, fine. Girlfriend perk," he says, going over to grab her drink. His coworker is watching them curiously, and Clarke tries not to blush. She doesn't have to be embarrassed about this. It's weird, sure, but no one has to know that except the two of them. She's just one of his sister's friends, stopping by to hang out.

"Like I said, I'm done at seven," he says, pulling her away from thoughts. "Let me know if you need a refill or a muffin or anything. You've got the great American novel to write."

Clarke ducks her head, smiling. "Yeah, it's not going to write itself." She makes herself meet his eyes again. He's--he's cute. If she'd hired an escort, she probably could have refrained from developing a crush, but Bellamy is making it difficult. "Thanks again. I really appreciate it."

"It's just a coffee."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"No. But you thanking me for the wedding thing is going to get old. And weird. If I'm not allowed to call you my fake girlfriend, you're not allowed to thank me for doing normal boyfriend stuff."

"I'd be apologizing if you were my real boyfriend too. Awkward, fancy wedding? With my ex there? Come on, that sucks."

"They're rich, so free bar, right? And the food'll be decent. And I remember Raven being pretty cool. Plus, you know. Monetary compensation."

"Which you would not be getting if you were a real boyfriend."

"Wait, you don't pay your real boyfriends for going to shitty parties with you? I'm starting to see why you're single."

"I knew I was fucking it up somehow."

He gives her a gentle shove. "Go sit down. Do whatever it is you're doing. Another customer might show up. I need to be prepared."

"Worst fake girlfriend ever," she says, smiling.

"Ever," he agrees.

*

As promised, Clarke hangs out in the coffee shop until his shift ends, curled up in one of the plush armchairs in the back with her laptop. She forgets about refills, so he just wanders over periodically to top her up. She's got Photoshop open, doing some kind of digital art, and he wishes he could ignore his job and sit with her, get her to explain what she's doing. It looks pretty cool.

"Who's the girl?" Echo asks.

"One of my sister's friends." He feels no need to tell his coworkers about the entire fake dating scheme. Echo does not really need to know he's getting paid to go to a wedding. It will raise more questions about his life choices than he really wants to answer. He's her manager; she's not supposed to find him completely fucking absurd. "I'm helping her out this weekend, so she's waiting for me to get off shift."

"Pretty."

"She's bi, so if you want, I can give her your number."

Echo rolls her eyes. "You're not nearly as cute as you think you are, Blake."

"No, but that's just because I think I'm really cute."

Clarke's shut down her laptop and switched to playing something on her phone by the time Bellamy finishes, and he ducks into the back to switch his polo for a t-shirt and grab his bag before he goes to meet her. He's not nervous. Really, he's not. It's a very normal business transaction. For some people.

"You done?" Clarke asks, when he sits down on the arm of her chair.

"All set, yeah."

"Are you hungry? Do you want to grab something to eat before we go?"

"I took a sandwich and a cookie for the road. You want one?"

"Nah, I'll need to take a break sometime anyway." She stands and stretches, shaking out her shoulders. "I maybe should have walked around or something. Nothing gets you psyched to sit on your ass for four hours like sitting on your ass."

He snorts. "Poor planning."

"That is the theme of this entire wedding. At least for me. I assume Finn's parents have meticulously planned the entire weekend." She makes a face. "Is it obvious I'm really not looking forward to this thing?"

"No, it's really subtle," he says, putting a companionable arm around her shoulders as they head toward her car. "Barely noticeable at all."

She snorts. "Awesome."

The car ride is fairly uneventful; Bellamy can't drive, so he's in charge of Clarke's phone, which mostly involves using google maps and making fun of her playlists. Which are actually broadly pretty good, but what's the point of listening to her playlists if he can't tease her about them?

When they're about a half an hour away from her parents' house, she says, "I guess I should prep you for the family, huh?"

He raises his eyebrows at her. "They're that bad?"

"No, dumbass, but if you were my real boyfriend you'd probably know about them."

"Your mom's a doctor, right?"

"Yeah, and my dad teaches at MIT. His name is Jake, her name is Abby, start off calling them Professor and Dr. Griffin and they'll correct you immediately, but you'll get points for being respectful."

"Got it. What does your dad teach?"

"Engineering. And my mom's a surgeon." She grimaces. "She works at MGH. One of the wings there is named after my grandfather, as a bonus."

"Paternal or maternal?"

"Maternal. The Joseph M. Clarke Oncology Wing. My mom's older sister died of lung cancer when she was about my age, so it was close to his heart."

Bellamy nods. "So that's where Clarke comes from? I always kind of wondered."

"Oh, you're one to talk, Bellamy."

He laughs. "It's actually about the same as yours. It was my mom's grandmother's maiden name. She thought it was pretty."

"It is," Clarke says, absent, making his cheeks warm a little, but it's dark and she doesn't seem to notice. "What about Octavia?"

"That one was actually me. I was going through a Roman history phase."

"At age--what, six?"

He shrugs. "Some kids had a dinosaur thing."

"So Octavia's lucky she's not named Triceratops?"

He laughs. "Exactly."

She drums her fingers on the steering wheel, nervous, and then says, "Can I ask an awkward question?"

"Sure. What are boyfriends for?"

"Octavia's white."

"Not a question."

She shoots him a look, and he grins. "You're not white."

"Still not a question."

"Assume there are going to be a lot of conservative old people at this wedding who don't think they're racist but totally are. They're going to spend twenty minutes trying to indirectly ask me about your ethnic background because they think it's less rude than asking you directly. What do you want me to tell them?"

"My dad was Filipino. He died a month before I was born, hit and run." He smirks. "But if anyone asks where I'm from, just say New York."

"Obviously."

"Are your parents going to be weird about it?" He's used to the kind of reaction she's describing; it's happened all his life, and it sucks, but he hasn't figured out a good way to avoid it, apart from making sure none of his friends are people like that.

"I don't think so. My mom will just be happy I'm dating someone, and my dad likes everyone I like."

"So you just have to convince him you like me."

"I have to convince everyone I like you." She flashes him a teasing smile. "Luckily I'm a phenomenal actress."

Bellamy can't help grinning back. "Luckily."

*

Clarke's mom has work in the morning, so she's asleep when the two of them arrive. Her dad is waiting up, of course, and swoops her up in a hug as soon as she's opened the door.

"Good to see you."

"You too, dad." She hasn't been home since last Christmas, almost ten months, and she has missed him.

"And you must be the boyfriend."

"Bellamy," he says, offering his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Professor Griffin."

It's not hard to glow with approval, seeing the two of then meet. Clarke thinks she should maybe feel guilty for the lie, but she mostly can't help being excited. The two of them will get along; it's cool.

"Please, call me Jake. The pleasure's all mine. Clarke said you were Octavia's brother?"

Clarke had a chance to call her parents and give them the basics of her date--Octavia's brother, met through Octavia, going out for a couple months, new but fairly serious--earlier in the week. Her parents like Octavia, so it seemed like a good thing to bring up. The wedding is supposed to be the stressful part of this weekend, not her parents meeting her fake boyfriend.

"I am, yeah."

"She's a good kid."

Bellamy snorts. "I don't know if I'd go that far."

Jake laughs. "Fair enough. How was the drive?"

They make polite small talk for a few minutes, but it's past her father's bedtime--and hers, honestly--so he begs off not too long after greeting them.

"I hope you'll forgive me for not showing you to your room, Bellamy. Clarke knows the way."

"Of course." They shake hands again. "Thanks for waiting up for us."

"I didn't think I'd notice, but apparently I'm not as young as I used to be. I'll see you two in the morning."

He waves goodnight, and Bellamy follows Clarke up the stairs to her bedroom. She's a little nervous about this part--not because of him specifically, but it's been a while since she shared a bed with anyone, and she wonders if she'll be able to sleep at all, or if it'll be too awkward.

"Bathroom's in here," she says, gesturing as they pass the door. "My parents have their own so we're the only ones using this one. Towels and everything should be there."

She pushes her door open, although, in truth, it's not really her door anymore. Her mom went through last year and cleaned everything out, put all her stuff in the attic and turned it into a second guest room. But it's always going to be her room.

"Did you need a shower or anything?" she asks, rubbing her hands on her jeans.

Bellamy's smiling a little. "Hey, don't be nervous."

"Sorry," she says. "Just--this is the weird part, right?"

"I think it's all the weird part," he says, but he still sounds amused. "Don't worry about it. Your dad seems cool, your room is nice." He puts his bag down and leans over to root through it. "And I do want to shower, I still smell like coffee. Do you want to go first?"

"No, go ahead. I usually shower in the morning." She sits down on the bed, giving an experimental bounce. Her mom replaced the bed with the rest of the room, and while she's glad she and Bellamy aren't sharing her childhood twin, just on a logistical level, it still makes her feel vaguely off, like she came back to an alternate universe.

"Sure," he says, and reaches over to squeeze her shoulder on his way out. "Seriously, don't worry about this. It's going to be fine."

Clarke gets changed into her pajamas, a tank top and flannel pants that are fine for sleepovers and therefore probably fine for platonically sharing a bed with her friend's brother.

This might not have been her best plan.

She texts Raven, We got here, when do we start drinking?

i'm already drinking, you better catch up. how's your date?

It's going pretty well. He's shockingly chill about the whole thing

he's hot, right? I remember him being hot

Of course, that's when Bellamy comes back in, toweling his hair dry, wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung pajama pants, in a pair of glasses.

unbelievably, she texts Raven, and puts the phone away.

"Find everything okay?" she asks, because inane small talk is about all she's got right now. He's very built. She didn't think baristas were that built.

"Yeah, thanks." He smiles. "Bathroom's all yours if you want it."

She feels the dip as he sits on the other side of the bed, and she gets up to go to the bathroom primarily to avoid thinking about the whole thing. She's twenty-six; sharing a bed shouldn't be a big deal. They're both adults. He just looks very--tempting.

She brushes her teeth and washes her face, and then washes her face again, just to delay the inevitable. He's stretched out on the left side of the bed with a book, and he hasn't gotten a shirt on yet. It's no less tempting than before, maybe even more. There's something about seeing him in her bed, so comfortable and relaxed, that makes her heart lurch.

"I can turn off the light if it's going to bother you," he offers.

"No, I can sleep in pretty much any conditions. Knock yourself out."

She slides under the covers, feeling the vague warmth of his body near her side, just enough that she's aware of him.

She really hopes she remembers how to sleep next to someone.

"Night, Bellamy."

"Night, Clarke."

*

Bellamy's woken up by Wham! at an ungodly hour. He rolled into Clarke at some point in the night, which--honestly, he was expecting, but it's still awkward. Bellamy doesn't do the actual sleeping part of sleeping with people that often, but he remembers a few bad winters when he was a kid, when he and his sister and his mom all shared one bed because the heat in their apartment was so shitty. His instincts still tell him to get close to people when he's sharing a bed with them.

Clarke makes an unhappy sound and flails for the bedside table, eventually coming up with her phone and turning off the alarm. "Sorry," she mutters, hitting some buttons and replacing the phone on the bedside table. "I've got it set to go off every weekday to get me up for school, I forgot to turn it off."

"No problem," he says. One of his arms is over her and he pulls it back quickly. "Sorry, I tend to, uh--I roll into people when I'm asleep. I should have warned you."

"Like I said, I can sleep through anything." She flops on her back, rubbing her face. "Except Wham!, obviously."

"Obviously. What time is it?"

"6:30."

He groans and buries his face in the pillow. "Fuck. Are you going to be offended if I go back to sleep?"

"Nope. I'm going to do the same thing. We don't have anything today until lunch with Raven at noon, so fuck being awake." There's a pause. "Not that you have to come to that. You can go sight-seeing or whatever. There's plenty of cool stuff in Boston to check out."

"I like Raven," he says. "From what little I've seen of her. I'll come with you guys. You can take me sight-seeing later."

"I can, huh?" she asks, sounding amused.

"Well, I am supposed to be escorting you places. Like museums."

"Museums, huh? This is why Octavia calls you her dork brother, isn't it?"

"Plenty of people like museums!" he protests. "That is not a sign of dorkiness."

"It is, a little bit." There's a pause, and then she says, "If you're going to do this anyway, I'm going to be comfortable about it," and rolls into his side, positioning herself so that she's pressed up against him.

"I thought you could sleep through anything," he says, pleased and amused. He's all for pretty girls throwing themselves into his arms.

"I can, but I'm going to be thinking about it until it happens, so--this is easier." She sounds only half awake, so he puts his arm back around her and closes his eyes, settling back into sleep.

The next time he wakes up, he's alone, and it's a little after nine-thirty, which is much more respectable. He scrubs his hand over his face and offers a silent prayer of thanks that he had the foresight to jerk off in the shower last night, because--okay, it's kind of awkward to jerk off in Clarke's parents' shower, but it seems to have saved him from an awkward morning wood situation, and that is more than worth it.

He hears the click of the door and opens one eye to see Clarke coming in in a fluffy blue towel that's--it covers everything, but just barely. Her legs are really, really nice.

His voice fails to work the first time he tries to talk, but on his second attempt, he gets out, "Full disclosure, I am awake right now, so you probably want to leave the towel on."

She jumps and turns, and, yes, fucking perfect legs. And a lot of cleavage. It has really been way too long since he got laid.

"Sorry," he says, not managing any contrition. "Thought I should warn you."

"Good morning to you too," she says, but she's smiling despite the sarcasm in her tone. "My dad's got breakfast downstairs, if you want to get dressed." She grabs some clothes out of her bag. "I'll change it in the bathroom and meet you in the kitchen?"

"Sure," he says, and tries not to be too obvious about watching her leave. It's just--he's only human. There is only so much he can do to not check out a gorgeous, mostly naked girl.

He gets dressed purposefully slowly, but Clarke must have other stuff going on in the bathroom, because despite his best efforts, he makes it to breakfast before her, which means he's one-on-one with Jake Griffin.

Admittedly, Jake seems like a perfectly nice guy. He's friendly and open and clearly adores his daughter, but Bellamy's never been great with his girlfriends' parents, and having Clarke not be his real girlfriend doesn't actually improve the situation. It's all of the awkwardness with none of the promise of getting laid as a reward for being a model boyfriend.

"Morning. Did you sleep okay?" Jake asks.

"Yeah, thanks," says Bellamy.

"There's coffee in the pot and orange juice in the fridge. And milk, water, most normal breakfast beverages. Do you like pancakes? Any food allergies?"

"Uh, yes, and no?" He rubs the back of his neck. "Coffee would be great, thanks."

"Mugs over the sink."

"Do you, uh--are pancake breakfasts are regular thing, or are you just excited that Clarke's home?" Bellamy knows he had a rougher childhood than a lot of people, but the all-American breakfast thing is kind of a lot to take in. There are fresh berries on the table.

"Just for Clarke," he says. "We used to do pancakes every Sunday. Her mom was always on shift, so it was just the two of us. Now when she's home, I try to get pancakes at least one day, and we'll be busy with wedding stuff on Sunday, so--today it is." He smiles. "Don't worry, I'm not just trying to impress you."

Bellamy has to laugh. "That was my first guess, yeah." He takes a long sip of his coffee, feels himself start to relax. Clarke's family is nice, and friendly. If they interrogate him, it will be good-natured, and they'll probably feed him while they do it. "Do you have classes today?"

"Not until this afternoon," says Jake. "I have early classes most of the week, but Friday is my light day. And I canceled office hours so I could have breakfast with you guys. Assuming Clarke ever makes it down."

Bellamy grins. "She went into the bathroom before I was even out of bed, I assumed she'd beat me down here."

"Rookie mistake," says Jake. "Once you've been dating for a few more months, you'll learn."

"I spend an appropriate amount of time in the bathroom!" Clarke protests, sitting down next to Bellamy at the counter. She pecks him on the cheek. "Sorry. Was my dad trying to scare you?"

"I was being very friendly," says Jake. "Just freaking him out with our eerily wholesome breakfast traditions."

"Terrifying," Clarke says, dry. "Sorry about our complete breakfast."

"Apology accepted," says Bellamy. He gives her a smile. "You haven't told me what we're doing today, aside from lunch with Raven."

"Museums, apparently. The rehearsal dinner is tonight, right?" she asks her dad.

"Six o'clock sharp. Did you bring a flask?"

"I'm glad you're just as excited about it as I am," Clarke says, smiling. "Dad hates stuffy parties too," she adds, to Bellamy.

"At least I like Charlotte," he says. "So I'm happy to be going to support her. And maybe she'll get some personality in the wedding. But it's going to be a slog." He offers Bellamy a smile. "You haven't chosen the best event as an introduction to the family."

"Clarke warned me, yeah."

"Mom likes these things," Clarke remarks, going to get her own coffee and then settling back next to him, a little close for friends. She's actually good at the fake-dating thing. "Dad and I tend to stand in the corner and only talk to each other."

"With Bellamy and Raven here, we'll be practically social," Jake says. "Be back here and dressed by five if you want to ride with us to the dinner."

"Got it," says Clarke. She smiles at Bellamy. "So, the rest of the day is ours."

It would probably be a lot more difficult to not look besotted with her. A real crush on his fake girlfriend, exactly what he wanted from this weekend.

"Awesome."

*

Raven and Wick are staying with her mother in the south end to save money, which is a large part of why she was already drinking last night, Clarke's pretty sure. Raven and her mother don't get along that well; she used to at least have Finn to hang out with, but of course that went sour too. If she didn't like Charlotte so much, Clarke's pretty sure she wouldn't have come at all.

They take the train over to grab lunch there; Raven greets them with, "Are we day-drinking?" and then follows up with, "Hey, Octavia's brother."

"Hey, Octavia's friend," Bellamy replies, placid.

Raven grins. "Have you met Wick? This is Wick."

The two of them shake hands and exchange pleasantries, and Raven takes Clarke's arm and starts walking, enough ahead of the guys it's kind of private.

"How's that going?"

Clarke shrugs. "So far so good. Probably better than a stranger. What he lacks in being a professional he makes up for in being a cool guy I like hanging out with."

"So you're going to jump him."

"No, I'm not. I'm paying him to date me. Just because he's not an actual escort doesn't mean there aren't ethical considerations."

"If he was an actual escort, jumping him would probably be part of the package deal." She smirks. "Package deal. See what I did there?"

"No, you're being too subtle. Explain it to me."

Raven grins and slings her arm around Clarke's shoulders. "So glad you're here, Griffin. Wick doesn't really appreciate all the nuances of the situation."

"How are you doing with it?"

She shrugs. "Mom's barely been home, so that's good. She's cleaning hotels now, seems to like it. She's not drinking too much, or at least not that I can see. And I'm looking forward to seeing Charlotte, I like Charlotte. Although, shit, how is she getting married? We're old, Griffin."

"We're really not, she's freakishly young."

"Apparently cheating on childhood significant others isn't a family thing."

Clarke snorts. "Or she's just better at it than Finn."

"It would be hard to be worse."

They grab sandwiches and eat them wandering through a park. It's the end of September, a little fall chill in the air, and the leaves haven't started changing yet, but still a beautiful day.

"Does Wick know we're not really dating?" Bellamy asks in low tones, when the two of them are a little apart.

"No idea, actually."

"I just assumed he didn't, so I either convincingly acted like your boyfriend or made him think I have a giant crush on you."

Clarke snorts. "Good job either way. It's good practice for later."

"Exactly. I was planning ahead."

They leave Raven and Wick and catch the bus toward Fenway, which makes Bellamy deeply wary.

"Did Octavia ever imply I was into sports? Because if she did, she was lying."

"We're not actually going to Fenway. Just trust me, okay?"

The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum is Clarke's favorite museum in Boston. As a kid, she thought the indoor garden was the coolest thing ever; as an adult, she likes the hodgepodge of it, the way she's always discovering something new tucked away in some unknown cranny. She's hoping she's guessing right that it will appeal to Bellamy too.

And she is. He's like a kid, rushing around to check out every cool thing he sees, his enthusiasm contagious and endearing all at once. He's also really, really into history, which she kind of knew, but hadn't really known; he keeps giving her mini-lectures on the context of the artwork, and it's about the cutest thing she's ever seen.

She takes more photos than is strictly advisable, and then posts a couple of them to Instagram and tags Octavia with how is your brother such a fucking nerd, which is even more inadvisable.

Bellamy gives her a sheepish smile when she stows her phone. "Sorry, I'm being kind of rude, right?"

"Oh, no, you're fine. I was posting creeper shots of you to Instagram, so if anyone's being rude, it's definitely me," she says, with a bright smile.

He laughs. "Oh, great. Now I feel better."

"Seriously, I'm really glad you're having fun. I wasn't sure you'd like it."

"Yeah, no, it's great. I've actually read about this place, but I kind of forgot it was here. I never would have thought to come on my own."

"Clearly I'm awesome."

"Clearly." He smiles at her, almost shy. "So, do you have a favorite thing here?"

"I do, in fact."

They spend the rest of the visit checking out stuff together, trading weird trivia facts and getting yelled at for accidentally getting too close to things. She doesn't even glance at her phone until they're on the train back home; when she does, she sees Octavia has responded we have been trying to figure this out for years. science side of instagram/@rrrrrreyes, please explain, and Raven has just added you guys are adorable.

Clarke smiles and shows Bellamy, who shakes his head. "Those aren't nearly as creepy as I was expecting. You should have been hiding behind something."

"Next time," she says.

"Next time."

*

If there's one thing Bellamy actively hates about weddings, it's formal wear. He generally enjoys them aside from that; there's alcohol and embarrassing toasts and everyone is in a good mood, and he usually knows and likes either the bride or the groom, so he's broadly happy.

But he really hates suits.

"Can you wear the same thing to the rehearsal dinner and the actual wedding?" he asks, looking down at his bag with some annoyance. "I have two suits, but one is pretty cheap."

"Fuck, I have no idea," says Clarke, sounding frustrated. "It's a garden party, so less formal than the actual wedding? But there will probably still be at least one ice sculpture, so--" She comes over to stand next to him at his suitcase, already dressed in a pale blue dress that looks absolutely perfect on her. Her hair's up off her shoulders in some kind of elaborate knot, and she's probably never worried in her life about looking appropriate for an event. "Okay, I think those khakis, this shirt, and--this tie? I'm pretty sure my dad's not going full suit. Do you have--yeah, bring this jacket if it gets cold." She grins at him. "Good job packing. Nice selection."

He ducks his head, pleased. His collection of fancy clothes isn't exactly something he prides himself on. "Well, I'd be a pretty shitty investment if I embarrassed you at the wedding." He tugs off his shirt and switches it for the button-down she picked; with both her parents in the house, it seems risky to get changed in the bathroom. It would be suspicious if they noticed. And it's not like Clarke hasn't already seen him shirtless; boxers aren't really that much more intimate. "Uh, that reminds me," he says, not looking at her. "Did you want me to come up with another job?"

"For what?"

"For this. Something a little more, uh. Glamorous." Regular escorts definitely don't give out their real professions. Barista is a step up, but it's not something people generally think adults should do. As prestige boyfriends go, twenty-nine-year-old barista is really, really low on the totem pole. He's at least the assistant manager of the shop, but--given Clarke's mother apparently thinks that elementary school teacher is somehow a shameful profession, he doesn't think it's going to be a distinction that matters much to these people.

"No," she snaps. It's harsh enough he turns, and she looks annoyed, but not at him. Her expression softens when she meets his eyes. "If you want to, obviously, knock yourself out. But I don't care. It's up to you."

"It would be kind of cool to be a secret agent," he teases, trying to break the mood. He was trying to be polite, not upset her.

"Yeah, let's both do that."

"It can be how we met."

He's struggling with his tie, so she comes over to help, knotting it around his neck with quick, fluid efficiency.

He could very easily lean down and kiss her right now.

"I don't want you to be anyone else, Bellamy," she says, softly, before he can do it. Which is good, because it's such a bad idea. "Seriously, I'm really glad you're here."

He swallows hard, because shit like that makes it very hard to remember he's being paid for this, that he's doing a job. If he'd known he'd like her this much, he would have done it for free. But it's a transaction now, and saying hey, you shouldn't pay me and should date me instead would just make it weird. If she wanted to date someone, she would have been looking for a date, not an escort.

"I still might go with secret agent," he says, and she laughs and steps back from him.

"Like I said, knock yourself out. Ready?"

"So ready."

She takes his hand as they go downstairs, for her mother's benefit, he suspects. Dr. Griffin was in the shower when they got back, so he hasn't actually met her yet; Clarke seems more nervous about this meeting, despite her assurances that her mother would just be happy she was dating someone. It's pretty clear she's closer to her dad, so maybe it's not surprising.

Both her parents are dressed at about the same level of formality as they are, and Bellamy gives Clarke's hand a thankful squeeze. He wants to blend in as much as possible at this stupid thing.

Clarke gets a hug and a "So good to see you, honey," from her mother; Bellamy gets a firm handshake and an apology. "I wanted to see the two of you sooner, but it's been so busy at work."

"That's fine, I understand," he says, offering her a polite smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Griffin."

"Please, call me Abby. We're so glad you could make it down, I know it can be hard to get time off work."

"It actually worked out perfectly, I was changing my work schedule from Sunday to Thursday to Tuesday to Saturday, so I had a free four-day weekend anyway."

He regrets saying it immediately, because Abby takes the obvious follow-up. "What do you do? I don't think Clarke mentioned."

"I'm the assistant manager at a coffee shop," he says, keeping his voice easy. Abby doesn't react in the way that feels like a reaction all by itself, a kind of careful blankness on her face. "The owner is retiring soon, I'm hoping I'll be able to buy it from him when he does," he adds, deliberately not looking at Clarke. It's not something he's mentioned to anyone, but he assumes she'll be able to put together wants to buy a business and agreed to be my fake boyfriend for a thousand bucks.

At least she won't think he's in massive debt or a drug addict or something.

"That's very nice," says Abby, without much feeling. "And you're Octavia's brother, yes?"

"Yeah."

"You started working at the coffee shop to help put her through college, right?" Clarke pipes up. She's gotten a hold of his hand again, and she's sending very clear be nice vibes to her mother.

"Uh, yeah," he says. "I got the job after our mom died so I could take care of O."

"We should probably get going," Jake interjects, gentle. Bellamy wouldn't be surprised if he found himself refereeing his wife and daughter regularly. "Don't want to be late."

Clarke brushes her shoulder against his as they walk. "Sorry."

"I knew I should have said secret agent."

"Yeah, but then it wouldn't be a secret."

He snorts. "That is certainly true."

"I didn't know you wanted to buy the store."

"In the next few years, yeah. I've talked to Dante about it, and he's willing to be flexible on the price, so--" He shrugs. "Don't tell O, okay? I'm kind of keeping it quiet."

"Except as a tool to combat my mother."

"Desperate times," he says, with a wry smile, and Clarke grins.

"Regretting agreeing to come yet?"

"Nope," he says, truthful. "Not yet."

*

The Collins had an annual summer picnic that Clarke went to every year until she started college, so garden parties at their place are nothing new. She's never particularly liked them--she got along well enough with Finn and Charlotte, and some of the other kids who came too were cool, but it was mostly just getting dressed up to have a bunch of adults she didn't care about ask her how school was going and if she had a boyfriend.

She's no more excited about doing it all over again as an adult. Especially since they didn't invite Raven; Charlotte loves her, but their parents have never been willing to invite Raven to any of these events. She's the kind of friend they didn't want her children to show off.

Clarke can't help a glance at Bellamy, who's looking relaxed and easy, no trace of tension. He's not the kind of boyfriend anyone expects her to bring either, and he agreed to this whole scheme, even knowing that. As much as she doesn't want to tell him to lie about himself, she also doesn't want him to be miserable and judged the entire time.

"We could come up with a different backstory for you every time we meet someone new."

He flashes her a wry smile. "It's fine, Clarke."

"I will buy you drinks after this. Many drinks."

"Is there not free booze? Because I'm way less fine if there isn't free booze."

She laughs. "There is free booze. But I figured there was probably a limit to how drunk you wanted to get in front of my parents."

"Well, you know what they say about assumptions."

"Then I look forward to you getting drunk and embarrassing yourself in front of a bunch of people I don't like."

"All part of the service." He scans the yard. "Anyone here we actually like?"

"I'll keep you posted."

"And where's the ex?"

Clarke glances around one more time herself, biting her lip. "Haven't seen him yet."

"Something else to look forward to. Ready to mingle?"

"Let's do it."

They go to see the bride first, of course. Clarke has always liked Charlotte, and Charlotte idolized Clarke, so she's thrilled to see her. Or she might just be generally thrilled and terrified and possibly working out some pre-wedding jitters; her excitement is palpable and more than a little overwhelming.

"Clarke! I'm so glad you could make it! It's so good to see you!"

Bellamy lets out a small, probably involuntary snort of laughter as Clarke finds herself with her arms full of tiny, enthusiastic bride.

"Good to see you too, Charlotte," she says, amused. "Congratulations, I'm so happy for you."

"I can't believe I'm getting married on Sunday, it's so unreal!" She notices Bellamy, apparently for the first time, and turns pink. "Oh my god, I'm being so rude, I'm sorry! You must be--"

"This is my boyfriend, Bellamy," says Clarke, with a smile. "Bellamy, the bride-to-be, Charlotte."

Bellamy shakes her hand and congratulates her, effortlessly charming, and Clarke has to admit the evening looks a lot better with him at her side. It's nice to have an ally.

Charlotte flags down the groom, Myles, who's just as enthusiastic as she is, and they chat until other guests pull focus.

"I should say hi to your parents and your brother," Clarke says, before they part. "Do you know where they are?"

"Mom and Dad are over there," she says, gesturing to a large group of older people. "I think Finn's still inside? He got a work call he had to take."

Clarke bites back a grimace. She likes knowing where people are to avoid them; she hates the idea of Finn finding her first, when she's not ready, when she hasn't planned it out first.

"Cool. Well, congrats again. We'll see you on Sunday?"

"Are you not coming tomorrow?"

"What's tomorrow?" Clarke asks, exchanging a look with Bellamy, even though he definitely has no idea.

"It's--kind of the bachelor and bachelorette party? But not really, because we're doing them together. It's just the party for people our age instead of for my parents to show off that I'm getting married. You guys have to come! Raven will be there, you have to meet Raven."

"I actually know Raven," Clarke says. "Finn introduced us. But--yeah, of course we'll come."

They hug again and then she and Bellamy take their leave.

"That was a truly overwhelming amount of young love," he remarks.

Clarke laughs. "They're not lacking in enthusiasm, that's for sure. Food first, or more socializing?"

"Food. I think we're going to need our strength."

"Hey, two down, hundreds to go."

He snorts and puts his hand on her back to guide her toward the buffet. "Definitely food."

*

They're chatting with Clarke's dad and the other non-white person they could find, someone named Jackson, when Bellamy feels Clarke stiffen at his side. He follows her gaze to a guy with floppy brown hair and a small frown on his face; he looks like a dick to Bellamy, but he'll cop to being biased.

Clarke shifts a little closer to him, yawning to give herself an excuse to lean into his side. She apparently has a talent for fake relationship cues.

He puts his arm around her and feels a twist in his stomach when Jake hides an approving smile in his drink. It shouldn't matter to him so much, if Clarke's parents like him. He's never going to meet them again.

But still. He wants to meet them again. Without compensation involved.

The guy who must be Finn lurks not too far from them, and Bellamy catches him glancing over at Clarke a few times. But he's got his arm around her and has no intention of leaving her side, and it does seem to be keeping Finn away. Which is sad and kind of gross, but at least he's not trying to talk to them.

"We should get it over with," she tells him, low, while her dad and Jackson are distracted with an intense discussion of Star Wars.

"Up to you."

"I see Finn over there," she tells their companions, cheerful. "We're gonna go say hi."

He and Bellamy are about the same height, but Bellamy has a more solid build. Not that it's a competition or anything. But Bellamy's pretty sure he'd win if it was.

"Hey," Clarke says.

"Hi," says Finn, eyes flicking to Bellamy before settling back on Clarke. "It's good to see you. I was really happy when my parents said you were coming."

"Well, it's Charlotte's big day," says Clarke. "I couldn't miss it." She shifts a little closer to Bellamy, and he nudges his shoulder against hers, an attempt at reassuring contact. He wouldn't ever want to see someone who cheated on him ever again, let alone at a fancy party. For the guy's sister.

"I'm Bellamy," he says, when Clarke and Finn don't seem inclined to carry the conversation. He offers Finn his hand, and Finn hesitates for only a second before shaking. "I think you know my sister, Octavia? Or you met her, I guess."

"Oh, yeah. I remember Octavia." He glances at Clarke again. "I didn't know you were seeing anyone."

Clarke gives Bellamy a hundred-watt smile; it's actually a little stunning. He swears he can see stars when he blinks after. "Yeah, it's pretty new, but--yeah. Octavia set us up."

"She's into meddling," Bellamy adds.

Clarke pauses, considering something, and then asks, "Is Mel not coming down until the wedding?"

"Oh, we, uh--we actually broke up. A few weeks ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that." She looks like she's about to say something else, but stops herself. Bellamy gives her side a quick squeeze.

"Guess it wasn't meant to be." He runs a hand through his hair. "I was actually hoping we could maybe talk this weekend? I feel bad about how we left things."

"Was there a good way to leave those things?" Clarke asks, voice still mild.

"No, I know, I really fucked up, and I'm sorry. But--"

Bellamy shifts a little on his feet, not because he thinks Clarke can't handle it, but--seriously, is this guy trying to reconcile with a girl he cheated on, at his sister's wedding, with the guy she's (as far as he knows) dating standing right there? He's not going to fight Finn or even intervene, but the guy needs a fucking reality check.

It works, because Finn's eyes flick to Bellamy and he backs off a little. "I just feel like we didn't end things on the best terms."

"No shit," says Clarke, and Bellamy barely stifles a laugh. This is serious and matters to Clarke but--she's so awesome. Finn should get out of this conversation before it gets worse for him. "You cheated on your girlfriend with me. And I'm still friends with her, so--I'm sorry, but that isn't the kind of thing you're just going to make better, Finn. If you're looking for closure, I'm not your girl." All at once, she shifts from deadly serious to upbeat and friendly again. "Anyway, good to see you, I'm so happy for Charlotte. I guess we'll probably see you tomorrow?"

Finn is frowning, but there's not a lot to be done with that dismissal. "Yeah, uh. Yeah. Nice to meet you, Bellamy."

"You too," says Bellamy. "Congratulations to your sister."

Clarke sags against him as they walk away. "Fuck, I knew he was going to do that."

"What, practically beg you to take him back right in front of your new boyfriend?" he asks, more irritated than he probably should be. But the guy's a tool.

"I know." She sighs and looks around. "Okay, come on." She pulls away from his side for the first time since they spotted Finn, but she takes his hand instead, tugging him away from the main party. "They had a picnic here every summer, so I came a lot when I was a kid. I still know some places to hide when I need to get away."

They end up sitting against a tree out of sight of the back yard; Clarke actually did bring a flask, because she and her dad apparently don't kid around about alcohol at fancy parties, so they trade it back and forth for a bit before she says, "I had a crush on him when we were kids." Bellamy tries not to wince, but must not do a very good job of it, because she laughs. "I know, shut up! It was--I don't know. I was pretty shy until high school, and he was always nice to me when we saw each other. And he was, you know. The kind of cute that teenage girls are supposed to like."

"He does kind of look like he got rejected from a boy band."

Clarke laughs. "Exactly. I don't know. I don't think he's a bad guy, but--he's really selfish. And he doesn't think things through. And I didn't figure that out until after--" She takes another swig from the flask."Well, you know. He was still cute, I was single, he'd just moved to the city. It felt like it meant something, you know? And then Raven showed up and I found out I was the other woman. He said he'd been planning to break up with her, he just didn't know how."

"Fucking asshole," he says, and she laughs.

"Basically." She puts her head on his shoulder. "I'm really glad you're here. Nice to have backup."

"Well, what are friends you paid ridiculous amounts of money to hang out with you for?"

She laughs. "Exactly."

They sit in silence for a minute before she startles up. "Shit, I need to call Raven."

"Why?"

"To warn her Finn's not engaged."

"That needs warning?"

"Okay, not warning, but--honestly I just want to gossip about it. Speculate on if he cheated on her or what."

Bellamy snorts. "Mature." He checks his own phone and sees two missed calls from his sister and a text that says, I don't know if you're ignoring me or having fun, but either way, call me. "Apparently I need to call Octavia anyway."

"Say hi to her for me," Clarke says, phone already against her ear as she wanders off to somewhere a little more private.

Octavia picks up almost instantly. "She posted pictures of you on Instagram!"

"Jesus, this is why you're calling me? I know. So?"

"So, what's going on? Are you two engaged yet?"

He rubs his face. "Yes, we got engaged after one day of pretend dating. You should start a business. We're hanging out, what did you expect to happen? We'd just ignore each other except for official wedding events?" He pauses. "Also, were you seriously trying to set me up with someone by having her pay to date me? Haven't you ever heard of a blind date?"

"I work with what I'm given. You like her, right? She's cool."

"She's cool." He leans back against the tree and closes his eyes. "Again, she's paying me to hang out with her and pretending to be into me. This is not a solid basis for a relationship, O. You did not think this one through."

"You know none of these arguments are I'm not into her."

"I noticed that, yeah. Have you been watching the Hallmark Channel again? Is that what happened?"

"No, come on, prostitution is so not Hallmark Channel. It's Lifetime. Get it together, Bell."

"I can't believe I made that mistake."

"But, seriously, it's going okay? You guys are having a good time?"

He glances over at Clarke, out of earshot, but he can see her gesturing as she talks to Raven, smiling, and he has to smile too.

"Yeah," he says. "It's fun."

*

Clarke wakes up with Bellamy half on top of her, his nose pressed into her hair. It's a nice way to wake up, all things considered. Apparently she was wrong to worry about not being able to sleep with Bellamy in bed with her; she's a lot more worried about missing him when they get back home.

Which is stupid, really. Obviously, they're probably not going to be sharing a bed, but there's no reason she can't hang out with Bellamy back in New York. They get along, he seems to like her, even aside from the financial compensation, and she could use a museum buddy.

He might even be interested in going out on a real date.

That's the part she's having trouble with, because--okay, she's generally good at reading signals, but as it turns out, fake dating kind of screws with that whole thing. They're definitely comfortable together, a natural team. He's good at reading her and seems to genuinely enjoy her company.

The touching is probably part of the act. The nuzzling her hair in his sleep is unconscious.

He'd been great at the party. She wasn't really--it wasn't like she couldn't handle Finn alone, but she knows how guys are. Some of them refuse to take no for an answer unless it comes from another guy. And that's stupid and terrible and yet another reason she's never going to date Finn ever again, but she appreciates Bellamy's warm presence at her side, a reminder of her friends and all the people who love her, all the reasons she doesn't need some guy she fell fast and hard for before he broke her heart.

And Bellamy had been good with everyone else, too, easy and charming, fitting in despite all the things he was worried would make it awkward.

She turns in his arms and burrows against his chest, guilt flooding her again when she remembers him offering to make up a new job, just because her life is full of judgmental assholes.

"Morning," he murmurs, through a yawn.

Clarke makes a face, which he probably can't see, but might be able to feel. She probably shouldn't have freaked out on him. She did not think this through. "Morning. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

"No problem." His arm is still around her, and his face is still in her hair. That's not a bad sign, right? "Do we have an agenda today? What am I waking up for?"

"Raven said if we're going to be museum nerds, we might as well go somewhere cool, so she and Wick invited us to the Museum of Science."

"The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum was cool," Bellamy mutters, and Clarke smiles.

"We could try to talk them into the aquarium instead. Raven says that's also acceptable."

"Does she just want to gossip about Finn?"

"Nope, we're done with that. He's boring. We established his fiancee made the right choice and moved on. Raven just likes science and penguins, so those are her top choices."

"What about you?"

"They're both actually really fun. I'd be fine with either."

He snorts, and she feels his lips brush against her hair. "And you're telling Instagram I'm a nerd. Can we just do both?"

"Maybe. They're not that close to each other, so it depends on how long we want to spend. Also, it gets expensive."

"Yeah, but as my--is it still a john for escorts?"

"I don't know. I didn't do all my escort research because I just hired you instead. But I'm pretty sure girls are never johns. There's probably a different word."

He laughs. "How much escort research were you planning to do?"

"Shut up," she says, flushing and burying her face against him again. Which is what reminds her that they're having this conversation in bed together, mostly naked. It's--honestly, it's the kind of nice that she hasn't had in a while, warm and domestic. She and Lexa did the occasional morning in bed, if neither of them had work, but Lexa had the most demanding job Clarke has ever witnessed, and the mornings where she felt like she had time to cuddle with her girlfriend were few and far between. And she was one of those people who didn't like to admit she enjoyed cuddling, which--well, Lexa hadn't been a good fit. And she and Finn never had time to get to that stage; they'd only slept together in any sense three times when Raven showed up and everything went to hell.

She likes this, likes just talking with his arms around her, the occasional brush of his lips against her hair. She wants this.

Of course, she's developing a crush on her hired boyfriend. Of course she is. She always makes the worst choices, when it comes to feelings.

"I should shower," she says.

"What time is it?"

"Like ten? The science museum is pretty close, so they were gonna come here for lunch, unless you really want to advocate for the aquarium."

He yawns again and rolls away from her, climbing out of bed and stretching. Clarke watches his back flex, because there's no way she's ignoring a free show like this.

"Nah, science museum is fine. Are we going to have an awkward breakfast with your parents?" he asks, tugging on a t-shirt.

"Almost certainly. Feel free to hide in here until I'm done showering. I won't judge you."

"Thanks, honey. I'm so glad you understand."

"I do not approve that pet name." She gets out of bed herself and grabs some clothes. As she heads out, she sees him kick off his pajama pants, leaving him in just his boxer-briefs, and it's that image that stays with her as she strips down and climbs in the shower.

It's creepy to get herself off thinking about someone specific, right? Someone she's not dating, anyway. Clarke tries to think of generic people when she masturbates, just hands and mouths, breasts, dicks, the feelings more than the specifics. But she's had Bellamy's hands on her for two nights, knows the way he feels pressed against her, remembers the rasp of his stubble against her lips when she pecked his cheeks.

She hasn't wanted anyone since Lexa, not really, and now that she's started thinking about him, she can't stop.

She's never figured out if her mother got a detachable shower head installed in the bathroom because she wanted her teenage daughter to use it to get off, or if it was just a happy coincidence, but either way, Clarke's had some excellent times in this shower.

Bellamy seems like the kind of guy who likes to use his hands. He touches her a lot, and she's not even sure he notices. They barely even know each other, and have only been faking dating for a couple days, so she's sure with a girl he was actually dating, one he actually liked, he'd be really tactile, hands on her back slipping up under her shirt, brushing her back, and--

She comes embarrassingly quickly, honestly, one hand on her breast, the other holding the shower head between her legs, imagining having Bellamy there instead, his tongue hot inside her, his fingers teasing her nipple.

Once she's come down, she finishes up quickly and gets dressed, staring at herself in the mirror for a long minute. She doesn't look like she just orgasmed thinking about her fake-boyfriend, not that she can tell. She's a little pink, but that's normal, after a shower.

Bellamy's on the bed, reading again, and he smirks when he sees her. "I'm kind of disappointed you remembered to bring your clothes this time."

She rolls her eyes, glad to have another excuse for her slight flush. "Just because you like taking your clothes off in company doesn't mean I do."

"Hey, I also like taking my clothes off alone." He sticks a bookmark in his book and stands, stretching. Clarke watches his shirt ride up out of the corner of her eye, which--it shouldn't even be exciting, really, given how often he's actually gotten shirtless in front of her, but she's in pretty deep at this point. "Breakfast?"

But as it turns out, it's actually pretty easy to not worry about the whole Bellamy thing once they're with other people. He's the same as ever, warm and charming, slowly winning her mother over with stories about Octavia and earnest questions about the hospital. Clarke's still expecting a conversation where her mother does everything she can to avoid saying he's poor and you can do better at some point in the future, but she'll deal with that later. With any luck, it'll be in a few months, and she can either say they broke up, or just tell her mother she doesn't give a shit, if she's somehow convinced Bellamy to really date her by then.

"Octavia is already looking at bridesmaids dresses," Raven remarks at the museum. "She's been sending me links."

"This might be the weirdest matchmaking attempt of all time," says Clarke, just as casual. "There must have been a way for her to try to set me up with her brother that didn't cost me a thousand bucks."

"Yeah, but it would have been way less entertaining for the rest of us." She clucks her tongue. "Wick says he's really into you, by the way."

"Does Wick know we're faking it?"

"Yeah."

"That's probably why. Bellamy wasn't sure, so he said he kind of overdid it."

Raven rolls her eyes. "Or he's actually just into you. He did agree to do this."

"Are you saying you wouldn't fake date me if I gave you a thousand bucks?"

"Okay, yeah, fine. But I wouldn't be as good at it as he is."

Clarke laughs and squeezes Raven's shoulder. "Kissing girls is great. I keep telling you."

"If you've got another grand to spare, let me know. Until then, I'm sticking with Wick." She glances around for the guys. "Shit, I don't see them. Wick is probably trying to ride a dinosaur. Come on."

*

"So, did you meet the ex?" Wick asks. He's trying and failing to climb onto a model dinosaur, which doesn't seem like it should be difficult, but Bellamy's not one to judge. He's also pretty sure they're not actually supposed to be ridden and they're going to get kicked out, but the science museum isn't nearly as cool as the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, so he's not going to worry about it too much.

"Finn?"

"I usually just call him douchebag, but yeah."

"Yeah, last night."

"And?"

"And douchebag is pretty accurate," he admits.

"Shocking, the guy who cheated on my girlfriend with your girlfriend is an asshole."

Some kid gives Wick a disapproving look and tells him that's not allowed when he spots them; Bellamy hides a snicker.

"This is a lot easier on weekdays," Wick grumbles. "Any highlights? Stuff to look forward to?"

"He was trying to talk Clarke into giving him a second chance when I was right there. And obviously we're not married or anything, if she wants to talk to him she can, but who hits on a girl when her boyfriend literally has his arm around her?"

"Douchbags," Wick supplies, cheerful. "Unobservant douchebags. Did he not see how she looks at you?"

Bellamy feels his neck heat up. He wishes he knew if Wick knew the truth about them, so he could figure out how seriously to take this stuff. But--that smile she gave him really was something.

"Someone's coming," he says, in lieu of answering, and Wick scrambles off the dinosaur again.

It's Raven and Clarke; Raven wants to yell at Wick for touching the exhibits, so Clarke comes over to Bellamy.

"Wick would have named his sister Triceratops, huh?"

"Velociraptor, I think. Having fun?"

"Yeah. You want to go check out the butterflies? Raven says she's not into insects."

"What, all of them? There are some cool insects."

Clarke laughs. "So, that's a yes?"

It would be a yes even if he hated butterflies. "Yeah, sounds cool."

"Oh, you can stop trying to convince Wick you're into me," she tells him as they head up. "Raven says he knows we're not really together."

Bellamy's glad he's behind her, so she doesn't see the way his face lights up. Maybe Wick just wanted to encourage him, if Bellamy did convince him he's got a huge crush on Clarke. But he kind of does, so it's not like Wick is wrong.

The crowd gets thicker, and Bellamy reaches forward to take Clarke's hand. Just so he doesn't lose her.

She throws a smile over her shoulder and squeezes his fingers; Bellamy smiles back.

*

Raven and Wick get kicked out for making out on a dinosaur, which Clarke assumes was on their bucket list. They grab dinner downtown and take their time; none of them really wants to be the first to arrive at Charlotte's party. Still, the waitress starts giving them pointed, exasperated looks when they've lingered too long, and Bellamy gets squirmy, clearly uncomfortable giving another service worker a hard time, so they leave her a gigantic tip and head over.

"It's not like we'll actually be alone," Raven points out. "There are four of us. We have backup. We're on the buddy system. Wick doesn't leave me, Bellamy doesn't leave you, and when in doubt, knee Finn in the balls and run."

"Aren't you a genius or something?" Clarke asks, amused.

"Yeah, that's why my plan is so awesome."

They aren't the first to arrive, but it's close. Charlotte, Myles, and Finn are all already there, with a handful of people Clarke doesn't know, presumably the bride and groom's actual friends, instead of rich people their parents like.

"Seriously, buddy system," Clarke tells Bellamy, pressing in closer to his side. She doesn't really like parties ever, let alone parties thrown by her ex's little sister.

Bellamy just finds her hand again and squeezes.

Raven hasn't actually seen Charlotte yet, so she and Wick have to be jumped on and squealed at and enthused over. If nothing else, Clarke's glad she got to witness this. Charlotte was having trouble when Clarke left for college, struggling with the transition to high school, not convinced she'd make friends, moody and sullen, and it's awesome to see her bright and enthusiastic and happy.

Even if it is more than a little terrifying, too.

The drinks are free again, which is nice, and Bellamy takes his backup duties seriously. They chat with the maid of honor, a girl named Harper, and some kid named Sterling, and Clarke feels like the evening is actually going well.

Then the drinking games begin.

Charlotte and her friends graduated in June and are still pretty much in college party mode--bad drinking games, flip cup, dancing wildly, and yelling woo a lot. It's all stuff Clarke hasn't done since she left college, and it makes her feel both incredibly old and kind of disconcerted. Between the nostalgic drinking and Finn being around, it feels a little like stepping back in time.

Bellamy's older than she is and never even went to college, so he looks even more out-of-place and freaked out than she does. It's cute.

"Don't worry," she says, leaning in close, but still having to shout a little. There's also terrible music, because it wouldn't be a college party without terrible music. How are these two old enough to be getting married? "I'll protect you."

"I thought I was protecting you," Bellamy says, basically right into her ear, making her shiver.

"We can protect each other."

And they do. They dominate at flip cup and do a couple rounds of Never Have I Ever, until Bellamy gets weirded out by how much more life experience he has than anyone else and they head to the bar.

"At least you got everyone with never have I ever gone to college."

He snorts. "Yeah, I sure showed you guys."

She props her chin against his shoulder. "Have you ever thought about trying to go back? Study history or something."

"Yeah, maybe. Octavia wants me to. Maybe after I buy the store, I can figure something out. Night classes or whatever."

"Or you could just keep being a giant nerd on your own time, for free."

He laughs. "Or that." He stretches. "I need to go to the bathroom. Do you want to follow me or is that too much buddy system?"

"I'm good. I'll find Raven and Wick if I need backup."

"Okay, cool." He presses a kiss to her forehead. "Back soon."

Finn finds her before she can even locate Raven and Wick in the crowd of people, which is-- "Creepy," she tells him. "Showing up as soon as my boyfriend leaves is actively creepy."

"I just want to talk."

"And I don't. Mine should trump yours. Seriously, trying to do anything to someone who's not interested is fucking gross."

He runs his hand through his hair. He's still cute, in the douchey, boy band way, but--any attraction she once had for him is long dead and gone. She doesn't really feel much of anything when she looks at him, just a vague annoyance that he's trying to take up her time and energy.

"I know, and I just--" He lets out a harsh breath. "I know I fucked up, and you're not going to forgive me, but I wish you didn't hate me."

Clarke sighs. Of course, this is just about his stupid feelings. God forbid he face any consequences for being a dick. But if this will make him leave her alone for the rest of the weekend, she can just have this conversation. "I don't hate you, Finn. Honestly, I don't care enough to hate you. You were an asshole three years ago. I got a new best friend out of it, and that's cool. But I'm not interested in having you in my life."

"I know. You have a boyfriend."

It would really be a mood-killer to strangle the bride's brother the day before the wedding. No matter how much he fucking deserves it. "I do have a boyfriend," she agrees. "That's not why I'm not interested. Those things are totally unrelated. If I was single, I still wouldn't want to date you."

"Yeah, I get that." He offers a smile, which is honestly kind of alarming. "I'm happy for you. The two of you seem--really good together."

It's meant to be a nice thing to say, so Clarke smiles. "Yeah. I really like him."

"Yeah," says Finn, sounding a little vague. "I'll see you later, Clarke."

She's not even a little surprised to find Bellamy's back when she turns around; Finn is stupidly predictable.

"What is it with guys refusing to take no for an answer until another guy's involved?" she asks, leaning into Bellamy's side.

"Guys are assholes," he says. "That go okay?"

"I hope so. He got closure, I got to tell him I don't care about him. Everyone wins."

"Awesome. I assume we're drinking to celebrate."

She grins. "Obviously. It is a party."

"Obviously," he agrees, and flags down the bartender.

*

Bellamy sort of assumes having gotten the Finn confrontation out of the way means the buddy system is no longer in place, but Clarke shows no signs of leaving his side, and he's certainly not going to be the one to suggest it.

Instead they get another round of drinks and destroy some of the kids at darts, and then more drinks and some sort of dumb bachelorette party game involving everyone finding out which celebrity they should marry. It's intended for women and completely heteronormative, so Clarke gets one of the guys from One Direction ("No, it's Zayn, Bellamy, he's not even in One Direction anymore. It's like you don't even have a Tumblr.") and Bellamy gets The Rock, which he's so down for.

"We can talk about how hard it is growing up brown and poor, and then we'll go to the gym together, and when we cuddle, he'll be the big spoon," he tells Clarke.

She giggles into his shoulder. "You've got this all figured out."

He nuzzles her hair; he's definitely getting increasingly affectionate with every drink he has, but Clarke doesn't seem to mind, so he figures it's fine. She is supposed to be his girlfriend. And absolutely no one is going to doubt that she is. "Yeah, it's gonna be awesome. You can be my bridesmaid."

"I think Octavia would object."

"She's maid of honor."

"In that case, I'm looking forward to it."

Raven and Wick stumble over to them a little after that; Finn apparently cried on Raven about how happy he is for her and how sorry he was, so there's some sort of closure there too. They celebrate with another drink, and Raven drags Clarke onto the dance floor, with Bellamy and Wick following out of a general lack of anything else to do. It's kind of a weekend theme.

They start out dancing as a group, but somewhere between songs, Bellamy finds himself with Clarke in his arms. He's maybe a little drunker than he realized, because he's not entirely sure how she ended up there. Given Raven is kind of smirking at him, he assumes she was involved.

Bellamy's not a great dancer, but it's not hard to sort of vaguely move in time with the music with Clarke. And he's doing it with Clarke, so that's nice. She doesn't seem to mind that he's uncoordinated and kind of sad.

He sees Harper going up to the DJ out of the corner of his eye and doesn't think anything of it until the song ends and the DJ announces, "I've been told I'm not playing enough romantic music for the bride and groom, so everyone who doesn't want to pretend they're at a middle school dance should get off the floor!" There's some laughter and cheering and then she cues up some slow, romantic shit that Bellamy has never heard before, but it gets Clarke to wind her arms around his neck and press right up against him, so that's awesome. Some part of him knows there's a reason he should have gotten them away from this situation, but Clarke's holding him close and her head is on his chest and he has no idea what that reason was, so he slides his arms around her and sways.

It really does feel like a middle school dance.

She pulls back as the song winds down, looking up at him, and he realizes in a flash of insight that she's going to kiss him about a second before she does, which mostly just means that he has time to lean down a little, to make it easier for her.

Her lips are soft against his, a little chapped even though it's not even October, and he tangles his hand in her hair, angling them so he can slant his mouth against hers, slow and easy. She opens instantly for him, and he has a long moment to enjoy the press of her mouth against his, the slide of their tongues, before he tastes the alcohol in her mouth and remembers all at once why this is such a fucking bad idea.

He's about to pull back, try to talk to her, when he realizes that the we shouldn't do this when we're drunk conversation would completely blow their cover. Making out with his real girlfriend on the dance floor is totally normal; unfortunately, he's making out with his fake girlfriend, which is not a situation he was ever prepared for.

He keeps the kiss as chaste as he can, considering the circumstances, and pulls back slowly, giving her a slow smile. It's maybe what he'd do, if she was really his girlfriend.

Okay, if she was really his girlfriend, he would probably drag her into the bathroom to hook up, but this would be the other option.

"You want to play darts?" he asks.

Clarke's eyes are still closed, her lips still parted, but that brings her back. Which is good, because that expression was really not good for his mental health. "What?"

"Darts?"

She licks her lips, frowning a little, and he brushes his nose against hers. Which, okay, feels a little weird after he does it, but he's pretty drunk.

"I like darts," he offers, and takes her hand to tug her off the dance floor.

It's not as good as making out, but it's still fun, and Clarke seems to forget about the kissing thing quickly in favor of kicking his ass. Which is good, because he's not sure how much his resolve would hold up in the face of her repeated attempts to kiss him. He's amazed he stopped the first time.

He stops drinking after that, for obvious reasons, but Clarke has a few more, so by the time they're ready to leave she's sagging against his shoulder, already half asleep. They say a quick goodbye to the also very drunk bride and groom (he knows he's old, but seriously, who wants to have a giant party the night before their wedding?) and she's fully asleep before they even go one stop on the train.

The house is quiet, for which he's grateful, and he rouses Clarke enough that she can get the door open. She perks up when she realizes what's happening, and he leaves her to get undressed while he takes a cold shower.

When he climbs into bed, she rolls into him automatically, and that, at least, makes him smile.

He's had worse nights.

*

Clarke wakes up achy and vaguely disoriented, and it's not until she sits up and remembers she's at home, visiting for Charlotte's wedding, that it occurs to her she shouldn't be alone. Glancing around the room, she spots Bellamy's pajamas neatly folded on the dresser, but no other sign of him.

Her phone tells her it's 10:37, so she assumes he just got desperate and was willing to brave her parents for sustenance. Which is probably good. Hopefully he isn't just hiding somewhere, starving to death.

She stands, mostly as an experiment, and finds her hangover isn't too bad. She tries to remember how much she drank and gets instead the sudden memory of kissing Bellamy, the slow, perfect slide of his mouth of against hers, and then--

"Darts," she mutters, flopping back on the bed face first. Right. She drank too much because she kissed Bellamy and he wanted to play darts. As rejections went, it was sweet, polite, and not at all suspicious, but--god. Fucking darts.

She's still lying face-down on the bed feeling sorry for herself when the door creaks open, and she rolls over to see Bellamy in a t-shirt and jeans, still wearing his glasses. He's got two mugs in his hands, and he gives her a dazzling smile when he sees her.

At least he's not mad. At least he didn't leave.

"Hey, morning," he says, setting one of the mugs next to her. "I was gonna get you up if you weren't awake yet. I figured it'd go better if the coffee was already here. How are you feeling?"

"Mostly human," she says. She takes a long drink from the mug--cream, no sugar, points for observation for Bellamy--and then offers him a smile. "Thanks for the coffee."

He sits down on the bed next to her. "No problem. Your parents are at brunch with some friends of theirs who are in town for the wedding? They assumed we had a way of getting to there and I didn't argue, so I hope that was true."

"Yeah, we're driving."

He rubs his hands against his jeans, clearly nervous, and Clarke's stomach lurches with nausea she's pretty sure has nothing to do with the hangover. This is it, the just to be clear, I'm not interested conversation, and she already got that from the darts. "So--" he starts, and she stands and drains her mug.

"We need to leave at like 12:30?" she says, brisk. "We're picking up Raven and Wick. It's not on the way, but she doesn't want to show up alone. Safety in numbers. I'm gonna shower."

She can't read his expression, but he nods. "Yeah. I'm putting off putting on the suit for as long as possible."

"Makes sense. See you in like half an hour."

It's longer than her usual shower, but she feels mostly human by the end, and kind of better about the whole thing. Yes, she likes Bellamy, more than she's liked anyone in a while. But a lot of it is probably just circumstances--she's only spent a few days with him, but they've been stressful and awful and he's been a godsend. So it's natural, and it'll wear off once they're apart.

Of course, when she walks into her bedroom and finds him reading on the bed, she still wants to take the book out of his hands, crawl on top of him, and kiss him until he agrees this is an awesome idea, but--the urge will definitely pass.

She grabs her laptop out of her bag and settles in next to him. She's neglected her email for a few days, and her Tumblr, so she checks if she has commissions or messages or exciting reblogs. Of course, for once, the Internet doesn't have her back and there's nothing, so she just opens up Photoshop to dick around with her latest project. It's better than making Bellamy think she's available for awkward conversations about feelings.

"Octavia is always yelling at me for looking over her shoulder when she's on her computer," he remarks. "So you shouldn't work around me, I will spy on you."

She smiles in spite of herself. "Or you should stop snooping. That's a bad habit."

"I'm a bad person," he says, grinning and shifting closer to her on the bed. "What are you working on?"

"Commission," she says, adjusting the laptop so he can see. "I've got a Tumblr where I take requests to do pictures of people's original characters. From their stories or role playing games or whatever."

"Huh. How much do you charge for something like that?"

"It's usually by number of characters and complexity. So, like, one black-and-white character is fifteen, twenty five for color, thirty for black-and-white with background, fifty for color and background. And then multiply by number of characters."

"Cool."

"This one is a little different, since it's a big scene but none of the characters are that detailed?" She gestures to the image on her screen. "It's a battle scene from this RP, a girl commissioned it for her friend's birthday. Anyway, we just did $75 because it's not actually that much harder than a portrait with a background."

"Yeah," he says, a little vague, and when she glances back at him, he's looking at her, not the computer. His expression makes her breath catch, and for the first time it occurs to her that maybe he doesn't want to talk to he can let her down easy. Maybe there was some other reason he didn't kiss her back, because--yeah, he really looks like he wants to kiss her.

She's trying to make her voice work when her phone buzzes on the nightstand, making both of them jump a little. Bellamy runs his hand through his hair and Clarke grabs the phone, not looking at him.

"Raven," she says, voice coming out apologetic. "It might be important."

"Yeah," says Bellamy.

It is, at least; traffic is apparently shitty, and Raven thinks they should leave ASAP. They grab some quick lunch and Clarke gets changed in the bathroom so she can do her hair and not see Bellamy taking his clothes off again.

Even if he is interested, now isn't the time. It would be a seriously dick move to miss Charlotte's wedding to get laid.

He's all dressed except for the tie when she gets in, and he offers it with a somewhat sheepish smile. "Help me out?"

"It's not hard," she grumbles, unable to keep the smile off her face. "There's a story about a bunny and everything."

"I thought that was for tying regular knots," he says, sounding amused.

"You can make up a story about a bunny for basically anything."

"This is what I get for asking an elementary-school teacher."

She finishes the knot and checks the rest of the suit automatically, brushing lint off his shoulders and smoothing the fabric. She did it countless times for Monty and Jasper before job interviews, but--well, that was different.

"Thanks," he says. She can't meet his eyes. "I guess we should get going."

"Yeah."

They grab Raven and Wick and make it to the church in plenty of time. Her parents are already there, which means there's no opportunity to talk in private anyway. Bellamy does reach over and take her hand when the ceremony starts, so Clarke has no real idea what happens in it, aside from the obvious. Vows and rings are definitely exchanged, some traditional prayers are said, and Finn reads some passage she cannot bring herself to even begin to care about.

Charlotte looks happy, and Bellamy is holding her hand. That's about all that matters.

"Where's the reception?" he asks, leaning in close once the ceremony finishes.

"Down the street. Fancy restaurant."

"Can I talk to you first?"

He's still holding her hand, so she manages to say, "Sure." Her voice doesn't even shake.

There's a picturesque churchyard, of course. Charlotte's parents would never pick anything but the most picturesque place. The front is full of people taking pictures, but the back is quiet, lovely and green and full of sunlight. It's fucking romantic.

"So," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "You kissed me."

"Yeah."

He smiles a little, amused and fond. "That's it?"

A smile tugs at her own lips. "You were the one who wanted to talk."

"I just--I thought I should tell you, I don't, uh." Her heart stops. She was wrong. Fuck. He's letting her down. "I don't kiss people when they're drunk unless they've told me they want to kiss me when they're sober."

She lets out a relieved, slightly giddy laugh and shoves his shoulder. "Jesus, you scared the shit out of me! I thought you were going to say you didn't think of me like that or something!"

He laughs too, face breaking out in a wide grin. "Sorry, I should have rehearsed more. I could have gotten it way more ambiguous, really left you hanging for a while." He looks like he's trying to compose himself, to look serious, but he can't reign in his smile. "It was really fucking hard to stop. But we were both drunk, and I didn't want you to do anything you'd regret."

"Oh."

"Yeah." He licks his lips. "So, you know, if kissing is something you're into when you're sober, you can just let me know."

"Bellamy."

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Obviously," he says, and leans down before she can.

Her memories of the kiss last night are foggy, which is probably a sign he was right about the whole sobriety thing. She remembered heat and happiness, but it's nothing compared to this, Bellamy kissing her slow and deep, like he wants to experience every inch of her, record it, map it for later. Her hands come up to hold the lapels of his suit, needing to grasp something, and he slides his hand to her neck, thumb stroking her jaw.

He swallows when he pulls back, looking vaguely stunned. But in a good way. "Do you want to get dinner when we get back to New York?" he asks.

She laughs and collapses against his chest, giddy with relief. "I'd love to."

*

The reception is pretty awesome. It's not a dinner, since it's only four in the afternoon, but there's a fancy buffet and a bunch of free champagne, and the lack of assigned seating for a formal meal means they can mostly just hang out with Raven and Wick and make fun of people's weird outfits, like the uncultured jerks they are.

He's trying to walk the line between I want to touch my new girlfriend all the time and I don't want to act too differently because we're supposed to have already been dating, and he's not convinced he's doing that well. He's kissing her hair a lot, out of a general sense of euphoria.

"So, you guys got together," Raven says while Clarke is getting more fancy appetizers. There's a lot of shrimp, and she seems determined to eat at least a third of it herself.

"Yeah, two months ago," he says, straight-faced.

"Your sister's going to be smug for the next decade."

"She's Octavia. She always finds a reason to be smug about something."

Raven gives him a calculating look. "I'm not sure I've ever seen her look this happy, so don't fuck it up."

He swallows, sobers. "Trust me, I'm not planning to."

"Cool. Let Clarke get a selfie of you for Instagram, Octavia's probably dying of not knowing what's going on."

"Almost certainly. She'll survive."

Still, when Clarke gets back with the additional shrimp, he slings his arm around her and steals her phone. He might be looking forward to getting a billion gloating texts from his sister.

"Did your phone die?" she asks.

"No, but it doesn't have Instagram. Smile."

She laughs and leans closer to him; it comes out really cute, if he does say so himself.

"New love of selfies?" Clarke asks, pulling up the Instagram app.

"Raven reminded me O's waiting for updates."

Clarke's face softens, and she bumps her shoulder against his. "Oh right, the very important wedding updates." She shows him the picture, which is just captioned fancied up with the boyfriend! He bites back on a ridiculous expression.

"You're going to get some questions about that one, aren't you?"

"Yeah, probably. Look forward to awkwardness if anyone at this wedding ever finds my Instagram."

He kisses her temple. "I've been prepared for awkwardness all weekend. So far it's been surprisingly smooth."

She snorts. "Aside from the obvious."

"Aside from the obvious."

They dance again, and he's a lot more self-conscious about it when he's sober, but it's mostly slow songs, so it's just swaying while Clarke teases him for being paranoid about stepping on her feet.

She kisses him again too, just briefly, and that's infinitely better than last night, even if it doesn't quite reach the high standard set by their earlier kiss. They are in public. It would be awkward to start really making out.

Octavia calls right before they leave, and he steps out to take it.

"Who's the best pimp?" she croons.

"You know how hard I worked to raise you and put you through college? I wanted you to do something important with your life."

"Nope, quitting my PhD, switching to match-making. I could totally do it. I'm awesome."

"I'd like to restate that getting money involved makes it really awkward. I still need to talk to her about that. It's weird if I left her pay me now that we're dating, right? Hell, it was already kind of weird, now it's really weird."

"That one's out of my league, sorry, Bell."

"If you can't talk about people getting paid for relationships, you're going to be a really shitty pimp. That's, like, Pimping 101."

She laughs. "I'll take a class before I switch careers." There's a pause and she says, "So, you're good?"

"I'm good. Except for the whole money thing. I still need to work on that. And her parents are taking us out to dinner, which was scary enough when she was my fake girlfriend. But still."

"You'll be fine. Call me when you get back to the city, okay? I want to hear all about how my plotting worked out."

"Awkwardly. Bye, O."

Dinner isn't as bad as it could be. Abby seems to have, if not exactly warmed to him, at least gotten to room temperature with him. She's clearly horrified when he admits he never went to college, but when he says he had to work to take care of his sister and put her through college instead, she's mollified, and Clarke must say something to her when he's in the bathroom, because it's a lot more relaxed after that. He tells them about Octavia's doctoral thesis and Clarke talks about how the school year is going, and it's the kind of thing he could maybe imagine doing more in the future.

It's maybe a little soon to be thinking about it, given he's been really dating her for less than six hours and fake dating her for less than three days, but it's been a pretty unusual three days. It was like one of those intense, immersion-based language schools, but for relationships.

"I'm not sure we'll see you before you leave in the morning," Abby says, once they're back at the house. "I assume you don't have an early start."

Clarke glances at him. "I don't think we were planning on it. We're both off work anyway, so I figure we'll probably wait until the morning rush is over."

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Bellamy," Abby says, offering her hand. "I hope we'll see you again soon. For a less hectic weekend."

"Yeah, that would be great," he agrees, and even mostly means it. "Thank you so much for your hospitality."

"Relax," says Jake, clapping him on the shoulder. "Clarke likes you. You'll have to give up being way too polite sooner or later."

He laughs. "Later, if it's all the same to you."

"Clarke and I will wear the you down eventually." He gives Bellamy a handshake, and then one of those one-armed guy hugs. He really hopes that will feel less awkward someday, but he's not holding his breath. "Have a safe drive."

Clarke hugs both her parents and they go to bed, and Bellamy's very aware they're alone again, for the first time since the church.

"Not too bad, right?" Clarke asks, offering him a smile.

"Yeah, I'm really winning your mom over," he says, following her upstairs. "She's practically tepid abut me."

"You'll get her next time." She tugs the dress up off over her head, and Bellamy's mouth goes a little dry. Apparently she's good with changing in front of him now.

"You know your parents are downstairs, right?" he asks. Her underwear is really lacy. He doesn't have much information about her bra, except that it's pale blue and covering her breasts, which is bad enough. "You cannot do this to me with your parents downstairs."

She laughs. "What, you want me to go to the bathroom?"

"I don't know if I can take that money," he says, which is not an answer to her question, and not at all what he was planning to say, but there's so much fucking skin and legs and ass and he's not really responsible for his life right now.

"Um," she says.

He scrubs his face and flops back on the bed. "Sorry. It's been--bugging me."

There's some rustling, and then the bed dips next to him. He glances over to see her in her pajamas, looking fondly amused. "I guess I can see that. I can afford it, if it helps."

"Not really."

She tucks herself into his side. "I don't have to pay you. But I'm guessing a thousand bucks would be pretty good for your coffee-shop fund."

"It would, but--"

"But it's kind of getting close to actual prostitution, right?"

"Kind of." He slides his arm around her. "And, seriously, I had an awesome weekend. I don't really want to start this relationship with you paying me for doing something I wanted to do anyway."

"So I won't," she says. She tugs his shirt out of his slacks and starts undoing the buttons. "You seem to think I'm going to be pissed that I don't have to give you a thousand bucks. I can continue my streak of never paying anyone to sleep with me."

"I haven't actually slept with you," he points out. "Although I can't help noticing you're getting me naked."

"You're wearing a full suit in bed," she says. "It's weird. And we've slept together three times. We just haven't had sex yet."

"And we're not going to now, because your parents are downstairs, seriously."

"There is no way they'd hear us," she says. "But fine, be a prude. Don't take money to date me, won't sleep with me because my parents are here--"

He laughs and rolls her over for a long kiss. By the time he pulls back, he's shirtless and she's got his slacks most of the way off, and he knows her bra is also lacy and makes her breasts look fucking insane.

"Seriously, parents," he says, burying his face against her neck.

"We could be really quiet."

"Clarke."

She pecks him on the mouth. "Fine. I'll go back to working on my art commissions and you can go back to reading your book. We've been officially dating for less than twelve hours and we're already that couple."

He laughs and kicks off his slacks. "I won't put on another shirt, if that helps."

"It's the least you can do, yeah."

*

Clarke wakes up early and takes a minute to appreciate Bellamy pressed up against her, his legs tangled with hers, his arms holding her close, before she checks her phone. It's not quite nine, which is way too early to wake up on a day off, but her dad won't have left yet, so she reluctantly pulls away from her boyfriend and pulls her tank top back on.

As expected, Jake is downstairs, doing the crossword on his iPad.

"Wasn't expecting to see you this early."

"As it turns out, I don't sleep in as late when I don't excessively drink."

"You should write a book, share your secrets with the world."

She pours herself some coffee and sits down next to him. "Any stumpers I can help with?"

"Who plays Jon Snow on Game of Thrones?"

"Kit Harrington."

"I knew I could count on you." He glances at her. "I like your boyfriend."

Clarke beams. "I know, he's pretty great."

He laughs. "It's also really nice to see you so excited about someone. I don't think you've brought anyone home since college."

"Nothing's worked out since college. But I've got a good feeling about this one."

"I'm glad. And don't worry about your mother. She had her mind made up you were going to marry Finn Collins." Clarke manages not to choke, but she can't control her facial expression. Her dad just laughs. "Well, not exactly Finn Collins. But someone like him. Bellamy wasn't what she expected. But he clearly loves you, and he's good for you."

She flushes. "Okay, let's be done with saying nice things about my boyfriend time. I'm glad you like him, but--it's only been two months."

"I know. I just wanted to make sure you knew we were happy for you."

"I know you are. Thanks."

"You should bring him down for Thanksgiving."

"God, don't you have to go to work or something?"

"I do." He kisses the top of her head and gives her a hug. "Come back soon, okay? Don't be a stranger. I love you."

"Love you too, Dad. Have fun teaching kids how to make evil robots."

"Always do."

Once he's left, Clarke pours another mug of coffee and heads upstairs, sitting down next to Bellamy on the bed and shaking his shoulder. He makes an unhappy noise and burrows back into the pillow.

"Bellamy," she says, amused. "Come on, wake up."

He opens one eye and looks at her. "Why do I need to be awake, exactly? The wedding is over. All we have to do is drive back to New York."

"I brought you coffee and my parents aren't home."

He laughs and rubs his face, sitting up. His hair is a tangled mess and Clarke mostly wants to climb in his lap and never leave. "So, you woke me up so we can have sex now, instead of in four hours when we're back home."

"Not instead of," Clarke says, handing him the coffee. "I was thinking in addition to."

He takes a sip. "What I'm hearing is that we're going to be having a lot of sex."

"Is that a problem?"

He puts his mug down and gets hers too, and then pushes her back onto the bed, giving her a long kiss. He tastes like coffee and stale breath, but he's warm and firm and his weight is perfect on top of her, pressing her into the mattress.

"Just an observation," he murmurs, sliding his mouth down her jaw. "Obviously I want to have a lot of sex." He pauses, pressing his nose under her jaw. "Do you, uh--I didn't bring condoms. Because you were paying me. I thought it would be weird."

Clarke laughs, dropping her head back onto the pillow. "Fuck. No, of course not. I was paying you."

"God, I'm going to kill my sister."

Clarke snorts. "It's not like we have no options." She rolls them over so she's on top of him and kisses him again. "Just no exchange of fluids."

"You sure know how to sweet-talk a guy, Griffin."

She rolls her hips against him, grinning when he groans and pushes back against her. "I know a couple tricks."

"Is your trick rubbing up against me until I get off? Because I learned that one in high school."

"Yeah, but you get to grope my boobs while I do it."

He laughs and tugs her tank top off. "Well, when you put it like that."

They grab breakfast and then start the drive back; Bellamy falls asleep an hour out of Cambridge and Clarke can't help stealing glances at him, watching his reflection in the window. She feels light and stupidly happy with how much she likes him, how she gets him. He's her boyfriend, for real.

She pulls over at a rest stop and can't help snapping a picture; it's not for Instagram, which is still in wait, what, boyfriend? mode, but she texts Octavia with the caption I think I'll keep him.

They're in the rest stop grabbing a snack when her phone buzzes; Octavia has texted back, you better!! and then, seriously, I'm really happy for you, but he's my brother, you better treat him right

Don't worry, she texts back. I will.

"Ready to go?" Bellamy asks, appearing at her side. It's her favorite place to have him, honestly.

"Ready."

He puts his feet up on the dashboard and gets her iPod going again, resuming his running commentary on how much her music sucks. She just smiles and settles in for the drive.

She's definitely keeping him.