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Sometimes, weird shit goes down at Bellamy’s sister’s campus.
He gets it, okay? He’s been graduated for all of two years. He remembers all too well what undergraduate life was like — doing stupid stuff for fun, doing fun stuff for stupid reasons, sometimes doing fun stupid stuff for legitimate reasons, like raising funds for a charity or something.
But for some reason, Octavia’s school feels a lot more like one of those colleges people see in teen movies, and laugh at all the quirky, offbeat characters saying quirky, offbeat things and doing quirky, offbeat shit to show how fucking quirky and offbeat they are.
He usually comes by twice a week for his sister, because they both happen to have coinciding lunch breaks on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Just twice a week, and every single time, he always manages to spot people trying to set grass on fire or throwing around a Frisbee made of papier-mâché or setting up a booth to ‘Save the Beluga Whales!’ or fucking lawn bowling or something.
(He knows the lawn bowling sounds fake. He swears it’s not.)
(Also, he now knows that those white melon-headed ocean mammals he sometimes sees on Nat Geo are called Beluga whales.)
It’s something different every single time, and he sometimes finds himself leaving a little earlier just for an extra ten or fifteen minutes of undergrad observation.
It’s practically anthropological research, he tells himself as he peers over the edge of his book on ancient Roman politics, watching a trio of freshmen building a five-foot pyramid entirely out of red Solo cups for what appears to be no reason at all.
This time, he turns up to what looks like Free Hugs Week on campus.
There are about fifteen to twenty students milling about outside the humanities building, all holding up handmade signs proclaiming ‘FREE HUGS’ and wearing similar sweet but vacant, welcoming smiles on their faces. A couple of girls are even wearing flower crowns.
Sweet Lord.
Out of the gaggle of sign-toting hipsters dotted around the courtyard, the blonde girl in the blue shirt catches Bellamy’s eye, making him pause midway through settling onto his usual bench with a thick paperback.
Mostly because she's the only one wearing an expression that kind of makes him feel like he owes her money.
A lot of it, too, if the scowl on her face is anything to go by.
Before he can really think about it, he’s off the bench and moving towards her, burning to ask her what her deal is.
His already piqued interest spikes even higher when he sees the sigh she very poorly suppresses upon noticing his approach. The corners of his lips crook upwards as he watches her square her shoulders in a resigned sort of way, right before he comes to a stop in front of her.
“Nothing like a warm hug to help you slay finals week like a thug,” she deadpans, one hand holding her sign up and the other on her hip. “Brought to you by the Student Welfare Council— I mean, Committee. No — Council?” Her face scrunches, the sign dropping to her side. “Look, do you want a hug or not?”
He pushes down the urge to say yes, just to piss her off.
"To be honest,” he says, glancing at her sign, “I came over because I just had to ask — are you actually interested in student welfare at all?"
She raises the cardboard sign again, her index finger pointing up at her own face. “Take a wild guess, my dude.”
Bellamy grins, adjusting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. “Hard no, then.”
“Ten points to Gryffindor,” she says flatly.
Jesus Christ. He’s never been this attracted to a person apparently incapable of smiling.
“Hope you don’t mind me asking, but, uh—” he glances pointedly around the courtyard, “in that case, what exactly are you doing here with the rest of the Nature Boys?”
Her brows lift in surprise. “Wow. Wow, okay, there’s a reference.” She brushes stray locks of blonde out of her face, her gaze roving quickly over him as if noticing him properly for the first time. “My roommate is down with the flu, so I’m filling in for her. Apparently, the Council wasn’t too thrilled about the idea of her spreading more than just love, or whatever.” She crooks her fingers sharply in air quotes on the word ‘love’, finishing off with a scoff and a roll of her eyes.
“Getting the impression that you’re not a huge fan of the Council,” he says, squinting teasingly.
She smiles unexpectedly, folding her arms over her middle. “Not about to stow away on their tour bus anytime soon, no. I’m more into competence.”
“I don’t know,” he says with a thoughtful hum, one brow arched in amusement. “Didn’t enjoy their latest single too much.”
“Yeah, they’ve always been more of an album band,” she says with a half-grin, the corners of her blue eyes crinkling in silent laughter.
“Bell!”
They both turn at the exclamation to see Octavia charging up to them in a tangle of brown hair and black leather.
She skids to a stop at Bellamy’s side, bracing one hand on his arm. “Hel-lo, I’ve been texting you nonstop for like—” She pauses, noticing the blonde. “Clarke, hey! What’s up?”
The blonde — Clarke, he thinks — holds up the ‘FREE HUGS’ sign, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Nine to five, on the grind, as Chamillionaire would say.”
Octavia wrinkles her nose in distaste at the plain sign. “Eurgh. The worst.” She immediately flings out her arms. “Oh well, since we’re here!”
“Okay,” Clarke half-gasps as she’s fully engulfed in an Octavia Blake embrace.
Bellamy steps back as he looks on in bemusement, torn between pride and embarrassment. His sister does nothing by halves, including springing full-bodied hugs on people with no warning.
Octavia releases her with a bright grin, pulling the strap of her bag back up her shoulder. “There, one more closer to your quota.”
“Thanks, but we’re actually paid by the hour,” Clarke says dryly, her blue eyes gleaming with quiet mirth as she glances up at Bellamy. “So this is the famous Bellamy. What an honour.”
“‘Famous’?” Bellamy repeats, frowning questioningly at his sister.
Octavia shrugs, careless and unapologetic. “I make fun of you a lot behind your back. Not like you didn’t already know.”
“Cute,” he says with narrowed eyes, lightly flicking at her nose. She bats his hand away with a cheerful scowl.
“Don’t worry,” Clarke says, sounding a lot more amused than he’d expected, “it’s mostly backhanded compliments.” She pauses, brows furrowed in consideration. “Very, very backhanded.”
Octavia groans dramatically, rolling her eyes heavenward. “Jesus, Clarke, you’re literally the only one who thinks it’s cool to spend the entire weekend researching how people in ancient civilisations went number twos.”
“Plumbing was a huge innovation in human history,” Bellamy defends automatically.
“Yeah, how else were people gonna make sure they looked pretty for their clay vase portraits,” Clarke says with an impish grin.
Oh.
Okay.
Bellamy is definitely very much interested in learning more about Clarke’s deal.
“… so I’ll catch up with you some other time, yeah?” Octavia is saying as he tunes back in, closing his mouth with a snap as his sister pulls Clarke back in for a quicker one-armed hug.
“Yeah, of course,” Clarke says, eyes sliding to him as Octavia steps back. She holds out one arm with a tentative smile. “One more for my quota?”
He blinks in surprise, the corners of his mouth stretching in a slow smile. “Sure, yeah,” he finally manages to say.
He forces his feet to take a measured step forward, and his arms to go around her at a normal pace and exert a socially acceptable and appropriate degree of pressure for a first-time acquaintance. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, turning her face into his shirt for a brief moment before releasing him, flashing a smile at him as she slides out of the circle of his arms.
“Congratulations. Now you guys are all set to slay finals week,” she quips, her gaze flicking over to Octavia and back to him.
“The only thing I’m planning on slaying right now is a burrito,” Octavia remarks with a laugh, slipping her arm through Bellamy’s. “Later, Clarke!”
For the rest of the lunch hour, all Bellamy can think about is a curtain of blonde waves framing a set of piercing blue eyes, laughter dancing in their arctic depths.
When he goes back the next day, it's only because he's interested in student welfare.
It has absolutely nothing to do with his newfound interest in pretty, quick-witted blondes with sharp tongues.
Well. Maybe it has a little to do with it.
The first thing he does when he arrives is allow himself a full two minutes to silently acknowledge how he feels a bit like a creep, hanging around a college campus he doesn’t even TA at without the comforting excuse of waiting for Octavia.
But, whatever. He’s already here. This is apparently the kind of person he is now. He’s just gonna roll with it.
(That, and, he’d much rather eat raw dirt than ask his baby sister for a girl’s number.)
Only problem is, Clarke is nowhere to be found.
He hangs around the courtyard for a few minutes, scanning and re-scanning the large grass patch for a familiar head of blonde waves, but comes up empty every time.
After about ten minutes, he gives up, and starts towards a pair of the sign-toting volunteers, a boy and a girl standing together by the edge of the grass.
“Hey, man!” the boy says when he spots Bellamy, his wide eyes lighting up under his shaggy bangs. “Free hug? Nothing like a warm hug to—”
“Thanks, but you can consider my exams— er, slayed,” Bellamy says, one hand raking through his hair. “Actually, I was just wondering — is Clarke around?"
"No, she's not,” the girl cuts in, her long ponytail swishing as she shakes her head. “She’s not actually gonna—“ She abruptly breaks off, her large eyes narrowing sharply and intently on Bellamy’s face, making him supremely uncomfortable. “Oh my God. Are you Bellamy?"
"Uh,” Bellamy says, looking hesitantly between her and the shaggy-haired boy.
The ponytailed brunette scoffs, shaking her head again. “So being hot as fuck is a Blake thing, huh?”
“Blake like Octavia?” the boy asks, brows furrowed in confusion.
“Guess what, Jasper. This dude’s her brother,” the brunette says, jabbing a thumb in Bellamy’s direction.
Jasper’s face clears with a wide grin. “Hey, what up, man!” His face falls again, just as suddenly as it had lit up. “Octavia’s not around, though.”
The brunette rolls her eyes, delivering a light smack to the boy’s head. “He wasn’t asking for Octavia, Jas.”
“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you’re Clarke’s roommate,” Bellamy says, eyeing her warily.
“Solid limb,” she says with an approving grin, propping one elbow on Jasper’s shoulder. “Name’s Raven.”
“Bellamy,” he says, before he suddenly remembers that she already knows his name.
“Jasper,” Jasper chimes in with a bright grin.
“Clarke,” another voice sounds from behind.
Bellamy wheels round in surprise, unable to stop the wide smile on his face at the sight of blonde waves and blue eyes that are somehow already so familiar to him, despite him having seen them a grand total of once in his life.
“Hey,” he exclaims, equal parts relief and gladness.
“Hey,” she echoes, both brows lifted. She peers over his shoulder to Raven and Jasper, both still hovering behind him. “Thanks, guys. I got this one.”
“Yeah you do,” Raven sniggers under her breath as she passes them by, Jasper’s elbow grasped in her free hand so she can tug him with her. The lanky boy waves vigorously as he’s pulled away, somehow managing to knock two other students’ signs out of their hands as he goes.
“Wow,” he says, watching them go. “Wow, okay.”
Clarke snorts, running a hand through her loose curls. “Subtlety has never really been Raven’s strong suit.” She grins, her entire face alight with pride and affection. “She makes up for it by being the smartest person in a five-mile radius.”
“Good to know,” he says with a laugh, turning his full attention back to her.
“So, what can I do for you?” Clarke says lightly, crossing her arms over her middle. “By the way, no refunds and no returns. Council’s orders.” She grins unrepentantly as a gentle breeze sends stray locks of blonde dancing over her sparkling blue eyes.
He clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, suddenly self-conscious. “Actually, I was thinking about making a second purchase sometime soon.”
She blinks, her smile widening ever so slightly. “You were?”
He sends her a small grin, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “Also, instead of a hug — which was great, don’t get me wrong — I was thinking maybe I could get your number. And dinner.” He freezes, tearing his hand out of his hair to wave it frantically. “I mean I’ll pay for dinner, of course. Or just your number, if you don’t— not that I want to pay for your number— ah, fuck.”
She waits patiently all throughout his half-baked monologue, her upturned lips pressed together. She finally dissolves into silent laughter at his final ‘fuck’, shaking her head in amused exasperation.
“Tell you what,” she says when she raises her head again, eyes shining bright. “I’ll do you one better.”
She takes one step toward him and pushes up on her toes, bringing her body flush against his and pressing her lips firmly to his. Her hands move up his chest, one hand sliding into the curls at the back of his neck as the other lays flat on his shoulder. His hands are already on her waist, one curling around her hip and the other sliding around to her back to pull her even closer.
One long, glorious moment later, she pulls away, dropping back down onto her heels but not making any other moves to step out of his embrace.
“How about this,” she says with a grin, her fingers curling into his hair. “My number in exchange for yours, and we can split dinner.”
“Oh,” he says, still reeling slightly from the unexpected but amazing feel of her in his arms and her taste on his lips. “What about the kiss?”
She cocks her head, all teasing thoughtfulness. “That one’s for free.”
“Free, huh?” he asks with a smirk, his hands tightening around her waist on pure reflex. “Guess you are into student welfare after all.”
She shrugs, the corners of her mouth pulled up in a wide smile. “Depends on the student.”