Clarke finds out she’s pregnant in what her doctor calls the real old fashioned way: a panicked missed period and a small mental breakdown at the thought of giving birth. That coupled with the fact that despite she and Bellamy were regularly sleeping together and spending more nights together than not, they still were only friends. No one, not even their close friends, knew for sure that they were sleeping together.
Telling their friends about the baby was, for lack of a better word, an adventure. They start with Octavia, because if anyone else knows first, heads will roll. After her comes Raven, then the rest of the group. She tells Abby last because she knows how disappointed she will be. By the time she hits her third trimester, everyone is on board and ready to help them raise the kid. They have more babysitters than they know what to do with; more advice than they could possibly use. Everything starts to seem easy except the basics: how she and Bellamy would handle it alone.
When Clarke hits her eighth month, she comes to Bellamy’s after work to find him swearing loudly from the other side of the apartment.
“Bell?” she calls, kicking off her shoes and hustling to find him.
When she does, he’s sitting cross-legged surrounded by demolished cardboard and plastic and all the small drawers of his coffee table pulled out on the floor. His hand is bleeding, wrapped in his t-shirt as he grumbles at the mess around him.
“Bellamy, what the hell?” she asks, lowering herself to the sofa as gracefully as possible, given the whale-like features she now possesses. She takes his hand in hers and unwraps his shirt. “Were you hit by some sort of storm that only affects your two-bedroom?”
“Hilarious. I’m baby-proofing,” Bellamy says, frowning at the mess around him. “Or at least I was trying to. This place is a death trap. You saw the ultra-sound, you know how tiny its hands are. Why did I buy an apothecary table? It’s going to lose a finger in these drawers.”
Clarke laughs and he shoots her a look. “Come on, let’s focus on your hand. You’re going to be the one losing appendages if you don’t let me clean it.”
They end up sitting at his kitchen table after she cleans and wraps his hand. Both of them drink herbal tea because Clarke made him swear early on that if she isn’t allowed to eat or drink anything good during the pregnancy, he isn’t either. He hasn’t slipped up once, much to her dismay.
“Why are you baby-proofing? It’s not going to even crawl for at least seven more months. “
Bellamy shrugs and peers into his mug like he might find the reason. “I don’t know. The nursery is done, I’ve already washed all the clothes, I threw away everything small enough for them to choke on. I have enough diapers to last at least the first four months.” Once again he shrugs. “I just want to be ready for when we’re alone.”
So that’s it, Clarke thinks. Bellamy may be good with kids, especially considering he’s a teacher, but he hasn’t dealt with a baby by himself. He was six when Octavia was born and his mom didn’t leave him alone with her until she was four. A baby—his baby—is a whole different hurdle.
“I’m scared to be alone with them too,” she says.
He looks up at her. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Every time I sleep alone and I feel it kick, I start to panic thinking about it.” Clarke laughs once. “Tuesday night I couldn’t sleep and went on some stupid Mommy message board. I have never felt more nauseous. Not even when I went to tell my mom. I don’t have anything ready for her at all. I haven’t even bought a crib yet.”
Bellamy frowns. “I told you I’d take care of that stuff for you. You shouldn’t be doing that when you’re this pregnant.”
She smiles because she can’t help it. He’s always been protective over all his friends, including her, but since they found out she was carrying their baby, he’s nothing short of a bodyguard. “That’s not my point, Bell. I’m saying it’s normal to freak out. Babies are scary.”
He gives her a look that makes her sit back, raising her eyebrow. His eyes are lit up with an idea and she feels his thumb move over her knuckles as he grabs her hand. “What?”
“Move in with me,” he says.
She stares at him for a minute. “What?”
“We’re both scared shitless by this kid. We might as well be scared shitless together.”
“That sounds… risky.”
“Riskier than mixing Griffin and Blake genes into one person?”
Clarke cracks a smile at that. “What about dating? You’d really be comfortable bringing someone home to see me in the living room, breastfeeding?”
He shakes his head. “No. I wouldn’t want that.”
“Exactly. We can’t move in together like we’re just roommates. And we won’t be able to move out until it’s—“
“I don’t want to be with anyone but you,” Bellamy interrupts, high on a sudden strike of courage.
Clarke is silent, staring at him. Her mind works over every detail. “What if it doesn’t work?”
“I’ll make it work. For all three of us. I’m not going to pretend anymore that you and this baby aren’t the two most important things in my life. Don’t you feel the same?”
She can’t deny that. Bellamy is her best friend and she’s not sure how long she’s been completely in love with him, but she knows it’s been a while. “Of course I do.”
He’s spurred on by that, grabbing both her hands, careful of his injured one. “Then move in with me. We can start slow if it scares you, but I’m all in for this. You, me, this kid. This is what I want. I’m all in and I have been since before you got pregnant.”
She knows this is the best thing for the baby, having its parents together under one roof. She also knows there’s no way she could ever get over him if something happened.
“I want to date first. Real dating, not ordering Thai food and sitting on the sofa.”
“I can do that,” he nods, squeezing her hand.
“And if we sense something is wrong, we have to fix it before the baby can remember. I don’t want them screwed up from our problems.”
“I’ll move to another apartment in the building. Or further away if you want. But nothing is going to happen,” he says confidently.
She takes a beat to look at him. He’s looking back with certainty.
“Okay,” she says.
He beams at her and her anxiety is gone. One of his hands goes to cup the back of her neck and he pulls her into a kiss, sweet and happy and meaningful.
“I love you, Clarke Griffin,” he says.
“I love you too.”