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she'll knock you off your feet

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“To Lincoln and Octavia!”

Bellamy smiles as he raises his glass and repeats after Nyko, along with the rest of the bachelor party, “To Lincoln and Octavia!”

They are met with a chorus of ‘To Lincoln and Octavia!’ by some of the other bar patrons, as well as a few whoops and cheers before the boys down their third (or is this the fourth?) shot of the night. Regardless, it goes down much easier than the first one they took hours ago.

Discreetly, while the others are distracted by Roan and Luna arguing over alcohol tolerance and the hand eye coordination it takes to play darts, Bellamy slips his phone out from his pocket but keeps it hidden under the bar top.

 

Me: Third shot is the charm, barely flinched that time

 

The reply is instantaneous.

 

Princess: i think you mean fourth shot

 

He thinks it over and, damn, she’s right; which he promptly tells her before sliding his phone back in his pocket before anyone notices.

“Busted.” Apparently he wasn’t discreet enough.

He glances up at Gina behind the bar who’s smirking at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says and goes for his glass, frowning when he finds it empty.

Gina just gives him a knowing look as she pulls down more glasses and starts on refills for the group.

It’s almost poetic really, that they’re ending the night here at The Dropship. It’s where Octavia and Lincoln first met. Nyko had outdone himself in planning an evening that was definitely Lincoln’s speed. Bellamy’s grateful the task hadn’t fallen to Roan which probably would have resulted in them waking up in some unknown state across the country.

Bellamy grabs a stool over by the darts game before the others notice he was still sitting at the bar and joins in on the heckling which unsurprisingly results in them forcing him to try a few throws. He’s honestly lucky to even hit the wall that the target is mounted on. He's definitely seeing double.

Luna and Lincoln are by far the most coordinated which Roan laments is entirely unfair and suggests they switch to a game of pool instead.

It doesn’t go any better. Apparently none of them have the alcohol tolerance and hand eye coordination for bar games.

With that thought he pulls out his phone again, having to swipe the pattern of his passcode four fucking times before his messages pop up.

 

Me: That fourth shot did everyone in. Everyone is so dunk

Drink*

Wtf DRUNK**

 

It still shouldn’t be surprising, how quickly Clarke replies. Her replies have been like that all night and yet it still sends a thrill through him when he doesn’t have to wait long. Almost like she’s as eager to talk to him as he is to talk to her.

 

Princess: they don't seem to be the only ones

how ya doin, Bell?

 

Me: Better than my phone would have you believe.

 

And then because he can't help it.

 

Me: How are you?

 

While Bellamy was out partying with the groomsmen (Grooms woman in Luna’s case), Clarke was out with Octavia and the other girls from the bridal party. He's not sure what all they had planned and frankly he’s not sure he ever wants to know but considering it’s Octavia, he’s pretty sure the girls had a much crazier night than they did.

 

Princess: surprisingly we’re already back at the apartment

 

He glances at the time in the corner of his phone, has to focus on it a little bit so the two floating digital times become one, and notes that it’s only a quarter past midnight. So yeah, them being home any earlier that 2am is surprising.

 

Me: How did you manage that?

 

Princess: easy

suggested that Raven could hook up the karaoke machine

 

Me: You gonna sing something, princess?

 

Princess: i actually just made up an excuse and am about to head home. i’m exhausted

 

Bellamy sits up a little straighter on his stool and lifts his phone of his lap so it’s a little more in focus. He knows she's been tired a lot lately and not feeling all that well. Honestly, he’s surprised she went out at all. He's about to ask if she needs a ride (even though he's in no position to offer one) when more texts come through.

 

Princess: and no, i don't need a ride, dad. i’m not the one that's been drinking, remember?

i'll let you know when i’m home.

let me know when you leave the bar

<3

 

The little heart emoji sends a flutter through his own heart and he can’t help but smile.

“We agreed no texting girlfriends.”

Bellamy looks up to see Roan giving him a smug look and realizes he must have a goofy expression on his own face.

“She's not my girlfriend,” he replies easily.

Roan snatches the phone from Bellamy’s hand, reads the name, and looks back at him completely unimpressed.

“Same difference,” he says and passes the phone back to him.

Bellamy would argue except that Roan isn't wrong. He does love Clarke, a stupid amount. Which is still sometimes such a weird concept considering where they started.

They met in college where they were teamed up on a group project and instantly hated each other. They terrified the other students in their group with their constant fighting and the fact that they just could not see eye to eye on anything. She was feisty and knew how to get under his skin and he had no problem pushing her buttons right back.

Finally, after some begging from their groupmates, (and the purchase of coffee and a blueberry muffin) a truce was formed. Their partnership ultimately resulted in the group receiving an A and the two of them continued to pair up for the remainder of the semester. They had been inseparable ever since.

“You gonna tell on me?” Bellamy asks.

“Not if you keep your moony eyes to yourself,” Roan smirks and heads back over to Luna. He watches him put an arm around her shoulders and whisper something in her ear which causes her to shoot him a challenging smile.

Bellamy really was going to pocket his phone again but he just can’t help it. Clarke's like a drug to him. Especially when he's been drinking. So really she should have been expecting this.

 

Me: I wish you were here. I miss you.

 

Princess: you just saw me at breakfast

 

Me: I can still miss you

 

Princess: poor baby

 

He’s typing a response when Lincoln calls him over to watch Roan play a rematch game with Luna at darts. Bellamy quickly shoves his phone in his pocket and heads over.

*

Gina calls them over to the bar for last call when Roan suddenly gestures to the door, “Looks like your better half is here.”

Bellamy’s confused for half a second, head still a little slow, before turning and there’s Clarke, stamping the melting snow off her boots. She's wearing her pajama pants so she probably just threw on her jacket and scarf on her way out the door, not bothering to change back into real clothes. Bellamy only feels a little guilty about that. It's outweighed by the shock and joy of seeing her here at all.

Her eyes find his easily and she smiles as she walks over.

“Hey, Gina,” Clarke says once she gets to the bar and is shrugging out of her oversized winter jacket. Bellamy notices then that she’s wearing one of his thermal long sleeves that he's been missing since last winter. He can’t help but think she looks great in it.

“Hey, Clarke,” Gina says with a smile, “Same as before?”

She holds up her fingers, “Two please.”

“Coming right up.”

Clarke finally turns her attention back to him but he's busy fiddling with the edges of her oversized scarf that’s still wrapped around her neck and hanging past her waist. He's fascinated by the fringe until she clears her throat and he looks up at her to see that she’s got a soft smile on her face, just for him, and fuck looking up at her was a bad idea. He has to actively stop himself from leaning into her space.

“You didn't have to come,” he says sheepishly.

“I wasn't going to be getting much sleep if you were going to keep texting me,” she replies with fond exasperation.

“We had agreed on no texting,” Roan interjects from over Bellamy's shoulder. “Hi, Clarke.”

“Hi, Roan,” she says and glances past him at Lincoln. Bellamy sees her considering something for half a second before a sly smile takes over her face. “Well, if that was a rule then the groom-to-be has been breaking it all night,” she says.

They all turn to look at Lincoln. “What?”

“He's been texting Octavia all night,” Clarke chuckles. “She got worse and worse at hiding it the more drinks we poured into her.”

“Son of a bitch,” Nyko says.

“All these fucking lovebirds,” Roan mumbles as he takes a sip of his drink.

Lincoln just shrugs, “At least I didn't get caught. Bellamy's been awful at hiding it even before the first drink.”

“Hey!” he replies, indignant which just causes Clarke to giggle.

“I think it’s sweet,” Luna says as she swipes Roan’s beer and finishes it off. “It was a dumb rule.”

Gina sets two waters on the counter in front of Clarke who immediately slides one over to Bellamy.

“Drink,” she prompts.

“I don't take orders from you,” he mumbles, even as he reaches for the glass. He can see her smiling out of the corner of his eye.

Another guy saunters up to bar, jostling into Clarke so that she has to steady herself by placing a hand on Bellamy's knee. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he says as he sits down.

“It’s fine,” she tosses him a smile.

“Let me make it up to you,” he gestures to her water, “How ‘bout you let me buy you a real drink.”

Clarke’s smile shifts slightly, “I'm good, thank you.”

“Oh come on, sweetheart,” he insists, “How can I apologize if you won’t let me?”

“She said she doesn’t want anything,” Bellamy interjects.

The guy shoots him a glare, as if just now realizing that he’s there, “I was talking to the lady, pal.”

“The lady wasn't talking to you,” Bellamy says as his hands start flexing into fists at his sides.

“Why don't you go back to your group of boyfriends and maybe we could have a conversation,” the man suggests, his focus completely on Bellamy as his tattooed hand slides down to grope Clarke's ass.

Before Bellamy even comprehends that he’s going to punch the guy, Clarke has already taken a swing. Her left hand connects with the side of the guy’s face and he's down on the ground in seconds.

It takes Bellamy another second and he’s up and in front of her. “Clarke!” he reaches for her hand, trying to be careful with it.

She scoffs but doesn’t take her hand out of his, “I’m fine. You taught me how to throw a punch the correct way, remember?”

A small smile is fighting its way onto his face, despite the worry still coursing through him. His thumb brushes across her knuckles and he leans his head in closer to hers.

“You bitch!” the guy yells from the floor, cradling his cheek. “I’m bleeding!”

Bellamy spares him a glance and sure enough there’s a small scratch on the side of his face. Nothing that would require stitches, but it will definitely scab and probably form a nice bruise.

“I'm sorry,” Clarke says in a voice that sounds anything but, “Must have been my wedding ring.” Now she pulls her hand out of his and holds it up, flashing her engagement ring and wedding band where they rest on her ring finger.

The guys eyes go wide, “You're-”

“Married,” she cuts him off and grabs Bellamy's left hand to show off his matching wedding band. “This is my husband. Any more questions?”

Bellamy's definitely going to kiss her after this.

The guy looks murderous and is about to stand up when Roan and Nyko step up to stand next to Bellamy and Clarke and he promptly scoots back instead. The two of them separately is pretty intimidating, but together? Bellamy is surprised this dude didn't piss his pants.

“McCreary!” Gina shouts suddenly, getting the guy’s and everyone else's attention. “I called you a ride. Go wait on the curb.”

He doesn’t move immediately so some of the other people, presumably his friends, come over to hoist him up and drag him outside. Everyone in the bar goes back to their conversations, though Bellamy is pretty sure he hears a few discussing how his wife just punched a guy.

“That was pretty hot, princess,” Bellamy says as he nuzzle Clarke's temple. His hands slide down to her waist and he lets his thumbs rub up and down the sides of her belly. “You sure you're ok?”

She gives him a quick peck on the lips. “I'm fine, everything’s fine,” she kisses him again when he doesn't let up, “Promise.”

A wadded up napkin sails through the air and manages to hit them both in the face. “You're domesticity is disgusting,” Roan says, “Get a room.”

Clarke grabs her jacket and his hand. “Come on, let's get you to bed. I have a feeling we're both going to be fighting over the bathroom in the morning.”

She's probably right, as usual, but Bellamy can't help but smile. His wife is a feisty badass and he wouldn’t change a thing about her.