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And Maybe We'll Get Lucky

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Bellamy tries to stay humble, but, honestly, there's a certain demographic that he can expect to recognize him. It's not ego--although he also has a pretty healthy ego--it's just fact. Girls fourteen to thirty tend to know who Bellamy Blake is, or, at least, who James Potter is. And they recognize that Bellamy is the one playing him, even if they don't always know his actual full name. Harry Potter: Marauders is really popular, and Bellamy's the fucking lead. He doesn't always love that--fame is simultaneously cool and overwhelming--but after six years, he has certain expectations about what will happen when he meets new people, especially people in certain age groups.

Which was one of the reasons he wasn't looking forward to his baby sister's wedding.

Others include: it's his baby sister (who just graduated from college, Jesus) and it's her wedding and he's in the middle of nowhere for a week and a half and he doesn't even get to hang out with O that much, because she's busy with wedding stuff and he's terrible at it.

Today, he has been entrusted with exactly one thing, and when he sees the girl behind the counter, he figures it'll be easy. She's probably around his sister's age, right in their target demographic, and she's cute. For once, his fame could actually improve his life. That would be cool.

He can just hear Octavia's voice in his head saying, You don't have to flirt to get coffee, Bell, it's her job to give you coffee but he ignores it. He's bored, he's cranky, and he likes Lincoln's family well enough, but he feels kind of shitty that all he's really contributing to the whole wedding thing is money and giving his sister away, while they do all the real work. Which is fucked up all by itself, because if you'd asked him ten years ago, all he would have wanted was to be able to give his sister enough money so she could get through college and have the perfect wedding. But it stings sometimes, feeling like that's all he's good for now.

So, yeah. He's in a shitty mood. He wants a pretty girl to validate him. It's not a crime.

"Hi," he says, leaning on the counter. "Clarke," he adds, with a glance down at her name tag.

Her smile is bright and totally, completely fake. There's not even a flicker of recognition. "Hi, what can I get you?"

"What's the largest quantity of coffee I can get?" he asks. He tries another grin, and she has absolutely no reaction except for a considerate raise of her eyebrows.

It's--okay, honestly, it's kind of nice. Just as a change of pace. His notoriety not working for him could be good too.

"I have a bucket in the back," she says. "But I'd have to get the soapy water and mop out of it first."

He laughs, surprised. "I was thinking something I could take to my sister's house to be a hero. Assume I'm very bad at wedding planning and this is all I can contribute. So the bucket is good for volume, but hard to transport."

"Ah," she says, nodding. "I thought you wanted our largest personal size."

"I want that too. So the mop bucket and a vat, maybe."

She snorts, which further improves his mood. It doesn't sound like a you're famous and I'm pretending to be impressed with your wit laugh; it's genuine, albeit reluctant, amusement at his shitty joke.

"You think we just keep vats in the back?"

"I assume I'm not the only person who's ever come in asking for massive quantities of coffee."

"You're not, no. I get that a lot." She turns around and stretches up to pull something down from a shelf, flashing a strip of pale skin between her jeans and black t-shirt.

She's really cute.

"This is our travel jug," she says, plopping the cardboard container down on the counter.

"Is that the official name?"

"It is now, shut up," she says, bright and completely professional, and he actually laughs in surprise.

"Sorry I doubted you."

"You should be. There's about twelve small cups in here. Are you catering the wedding? Because if so, this will not be enough, and you really are very bad at wedding planning."

"No, this is just a thing where we do last-minute logistical stuff with my sister's new in-laws."

"And you're scared of her new in-laws."

"Everything about this wedding is terrifying to me."

She laughs again. "No wonder you need as much coffee as possible."

"Exactly. But leave a little room for whiskey, if you can."

"Don't worry, I've been working at coffee shops since high school, I know how to do my job," she says, but her smile is teasing. "How many travel jugs do you want?"

"Two. And the largest black coffee I can get. And, uh--assortment of your twenty best pastries?"

"Going all out."

"Again, I'm contributing basically nothing to the entire wedding process, so, yeah. Pastries, coffee, cash."

"I don't see how you think you're bad at this. Those are my three favorite things." She starts getting his order ready, and he leans on the counter, watching the easy way she moves. She really has no idea who he is; it's been a while since that happened. "Who's your sister?" she asks.


"It's not a huge town."

"Oh. Octavia Blake?"

She frowns, then snaps her fingers. "Lincoln's fiancée?"

"Yeah," he says, surprised.

"I've only met her a couple times," she explains. "But he and I are friends. He shows my art at his gallery somtimes. He's been a wreck for months."

"Because he loves my little sister and wants them to have the best wedding ever, right? Not because he's having second thoughts or thinks she's going to discover he's got like five other girlfriends before they get married, right?"

She gives him the most thoroughly unimpressed look he has ever received. "Yes, because he wants it to be the best wedding ever. Lincoln is a great guy."

"I know. I'm just not psychologically prepared."

That makes her smile. "For anything?"

He makes a show of thinking it over. She's awesome; he wants her to constantly be thinking he's cute and vaguely ridiculous.

"Excuse me," someone says, before he can answer her. The girl behind him is about sixteen, shy, biting her lip, and his heart sinks. "Are you, um, Bellamy Blake?"

"Yeah," he says, giving her a smile and not letting his eyes dart to Clarke.

"I love your show!" she bursts out, like she's maybe been watching him and rehearsing it. "You guys do such a great job."

"Thank you."

"I know you're, um, on vacation and stuff, but I was wondering if I could maybe get a selfie? It's okay if I can't!"

"Yeah, of course," he says. He's still managing a smile for her, but his neck is heating up. Maybe Clarke is somehow missing this. Or can't hear the girl. Even though she's nervous enough she's not regulating the volume of her voice.

He can dream.

"Clarke, could you maybe?" the girl asks, holding her phone out to Clarke, and Bellamy goes completely red.

Clarke just takes the phone with a smile of her own. "Sure, no problem."

Bellamy puts his arm around the girl on autopilot; selfies are second-nature at this point, even when he's kind of quietly freaking out. It's not like it's weird to have not brought up who he is. It would have been weirder to do it. But some people get embarrassed, when they find out they didn't realize they were talking to a celebrity, and everyone gets different. He was having fun flirting with Clarke with absolutely no fame involved, but now it's there, and they can't go back.

"I'm gonna take a couple, just to make sure you get one you like," Clarke says, watching them through the phone. She snaps a couple and then gives them both a sunny grin. "Very cute. And now you can come help me with his order," she adds, to the girl.


"I assume he would have mentioned if he was in a hurry," Clarke says, returning the phone with another smile. "You're good."

The girl checks the pictures, grins, and says, "Thank you so much!" to Bellamy before she ducks behind the counter and into the back room.

He's still trying to figure out the right thing to say when Clarke hands him a large mug of coffee. "Drink that while I'm getting the rest of your stuff," she advises. "I'm going to let Charlotte handle your travel jugs while I pick the best pastries, obviously."

"Obviously," he says, taking a sip. It's not bad coffee, as a bonus. "Anyone can fill up a jug."

"Exactly. You want someone trustworthy for your pastries." She grabs a box and slides down to the display case, which is full of pretty awesome-looking baked goods. "Any particular favorites?"

"Uh, I don't know. Those croissants look good?"

"Excellent choice," says Clarke. "Is Lincoln going to be at this thing?"


"Okay, he loves the raspberry squares, so you can get him those and be the best pre-brother-in-law ever. And he said your sister had a sweet tooth?"

"She does, yeah."

"Okay. Any allergies on anyone?"

"Not that they've told me about."

"Awesome. I've got you," she says, and talks him through her baked good selections as the other girl, Charlotte, gets his coffee and surreptitiously watches him. But it is surreptitious, and Clarke's not commenting, so--it could be worse.

She finishes up his box of pastries and grabs the coffee to ring him up. She accepts his credit card, and when she gives him the iPad to sign, he gives a huge tip, because what's the point of being a rich TV star if you can't tip people egregiously?

"You need a hand?" she asks.


"Two jugs, a giant box, and your cup," says Clarke. "Do you need help getting this stuff to your car?"

"Oh. Yeah, that would be great. If you don't mind?"

She makes a point of looking around, emphasizing how quiet it is. "We've usually got kind of a dead period between ten and eleven. And I assume it's not far."

"No, just out front. Thank you."

"No problem. I don't have any siblings, but regular weddings are stressful enough, so--" She shrugs. "I can carry a box for you."

He gets the car unlocked, slides the coffee into the backseat, and accepts the box of pastries from her, and then reclaims his own cup of coffee.

"Thanks," he says. "Really." He figures she'll be able to tell he's thanking her for the normalcy too. She's smart.

"No problem."

Impulsive, he offers his hand. "I'm Bellamy, by the way."

"Clarke," she says, poking the name tag. But she does shake. "Good luck with the wedding, Bellamy."


The next day, Octavia sends him back to the coffee shop, because apparently they now agree that this is the way he can best contribute to the entire process. He can get coffee and baked goods and be available for Octavia to roll her eyes at when things go poorly. It's basically his skill set.

And, okay, he's not really heartbroken to go back to the coffee shop. It's earlier in the day, so there's an actual line, and a few people recognize him while he's waiting. He does autographs for a couple college guys and a selfie with a group of high schoolers, and when he reaches Clarke she gives him an indulgent, amused smile.

"Don't worry, I'm not busy at all, hold up the line all you want."

He ducks his head on an embarrassed smile. "And I've got a giant order, like an asshole."

"Assuming you pay me for the order, I'll allow it. Hi, Bellamy."

"Hi, Clarke. Same as yesterday, basically. Everyone was really happy, so this now my role in this wedding."

"Honestly, I was in the wedding party for my friend Wells last month, I think the less involved you are in the actual ceremony, the better off you are," she says. She signals for the guy doing coffee to take the register and starts getting his jugs ready, which makes him feel stupidly happy. She's helping him. "Also, Charlotte yelled at me for half an hour for not recognizing you yesterday, so thanks for that."

He snorts. "How is that my fault?"

"If you hadn't come in, this never would have happened," she says, grinning.

"Oh, yeah, when you put it like that, I'm an asshole."

"Yeah, that was my thought." He's expecting a follow-up, bracing for it, but instead she asks, "So, anything you want more or less of after yesterday? Did you learn any pastry lessons?" and he finds himself grinning again.

He's got nothing to do in the afternoon again, so instead of hanging out in his hotel room like he's been doing, he grabs his laptop and heads back to the coffee shop, on the grounds that it's probably better than being alone. It's not like people don't know he's here; the cat is out of the bag. If anyone wants to come stalk him, they won't have much trouble.

Charlotte is behind the counter when he gets in, not Clarke, but he doesn't let himself be disappointed. He just wants some coffee and a quiet place to chill. This was definitely not about Clarke.

Charlotte greets him with, "Hi, Bellamy!" a little too loud and chipper, but is normal other than that, and he finds a booth in the back that's fairly private, settles in with his headphones and Civilization IV, because he can definitely be a normal twenty-six-year-old guy, playing video games in a coffee shop. This is totally what people do.

He's startled by the sound of a plate a few minutes later, looks up to see Clarke sliding in across from him.

The plate has a sugar cookie on it, and the sugar cookie has a smiley face on it in blue frosting.

"Hi," she says.

He feels his own grin breaking out, and he probably looks ridiculous. "Hi."

"What supplies are you here for?"

"No supplies. I just don't have anything to do, so I've got my phone in case there's an emergency and I'm playing video games until then."

"Ooh," she says, getting up and sitting next to him instead. She smells like sugar and coffee, and she's leaning in close. "What are you playing?"

"Civilization IV."

"Never heard of it. I'm more of a Sims girl."

"Do you actually let them be productive members of society, or do you just murder them?"

"Somewhere in between. I like to get them going with alternate streams of revenue. I trained my cat to hunt things for me, that's pretty cool. She keeps bringing back expensive insects I can sell to make ends meet."

He laughs. "Wow. It's been too long since I played the Sims, apparently."

"Yeah, there's all kinds of new tech." She worries her lip, and then just says, "So, you're famous."

"Kind of."

"Is it fucked up?"

His laugh is startled and too loud, which seems to delight her; she looks smug as anything. "It is fucked up, yeah. Not--I don't know. I'm not that famous? Like--B list, maybe? At best. But I've got a pretty dedicated fanbase."

"Yeah, that's what Charlotte told me." She nudges the cookie toward him. "Come on, validate me and tell me it's good."

He breaks a piece off. "Is your ego tied to how much I like the baked goods here? Because I wouldn't keep coming back if the food wasn't good."

"Well, I make the food, so--"

He chokes on the cookie, and she thumps his back. "Really?"

"It's my shop. I own it."

"Oh." He cocks his head at her, and she gives him a serene smile. "Twenty-four?" he guesses.

"Twenty-three." She laces her fingers together and stretches her hands out in front of her; at least half her knuckles crack. When he winces, she just grins.

"Not a family business," he says when she doesn't say anything else, because he's sure of that. Honestly, he'd had her pegged as a student who was just here for the summer, but she makes sense slotting in as the owner. The place isn't new, but it's definitely recent, nicely decorated with the kind of aesthetic Bellamy thinks appeals to people in his age range. And Clarke is--well, there's a confidence to her that makes sense now. This is her place.

"Nope," she agrees. "I was pre-med in college, but I--it's not like I hated it or anything, but I was stress baking all the time, and I liked that a lot better. So it seemed kind of stupid to go to medical school for ten billion years for something I wasn't even sure I wanted to do, you know? My mom was--concerned, but I told her if this didn't work out, I could still go back to med school." She grins. "And now she's upset it's not crashing and burning."

"Sucks to be her," he says. "The cookie is really good."

"And now that you know my secret identity, I know that even if it sucked, you'd say that just to be polite," she teases.

"Oh, no, I'm totally a rude dick. I'd definitely tell you."

"Awesome." She props her chin on her hand, watching him. "How did you become an actor?"

"By accident. I've got one of those perfect Hollywood stories. I was waiting tables in LA--that's where me and O grew up--and the casting director was having a meeting with the producers, and one of the producers was saying she wanted James to look like--and she was kind of looking around and just pointed at me. And another producer was like, yeah, he does look right, and they asked if I was an actor and I'd come read for them. I guess the casting director had just been giving them white guys, so I was pretty exciting."

Her laugh is bright and delighted, and he grins too. "Wow, that really is perfect."

"Yeah, luckiest shift of my entire life. It was a last-minute switch with a guy who had a date, too, so--yeah."

"That's cool, though."

He has to ask. "You really didn't recognize me?"


"Honestly, you just seem like someone who would be really into Harry Potter."

Her smile goes a little wistful. "Okay, yeah, you're right. I am pretty into Harry Potter. And your show's good! Or it was. I watched the first few episodes. It came out--five years ago, right?"

"That's when the first season started airing, yeah."

She nods. "I was in college. My girlfriend and I watched it together, and I liked it, but--then we broke up, and it was a shitty breakup, and that became one of those things I used to do with her, and doing it alone was weird, so--I stopped. And you're a lot older now."

"Okay, yeah, I can see that."

"So, you're no longer offended I didn't recognize you?"

"Not offended, just surprised."

"You've charmed all my underage baristas, if that helps. As soon as Charlotte told them you were here everyone started trying to pick up extra shifts."

"She's playing it pretty cool."

"I think she's hoping I'll marry you, and then she gets celebrity access all the time. It's a long game."

"Solid plan. Does she know you're a lesbian and just not care?"

"Bisexual, thanks," she says, with just enough of an edge that he feels bad.

"Sorry. That felt smoother than just asking. And slightly less desperate."

"Bi," she says again, but friendly this time, and leans in to look at his computer. "Come on, show me this game."

He laughs and turns his focus back to the laptop. "Don't you have a job or something?"

"I've got an in with the boss," she says, and steals a piece of his cookie. "I think I'll be fine."


"Lincoln says you made a friend."

It's three days before the wedding, and Bellamy is buying Octavia dinner, just the two of them, because it's his last real chance to do anything with just the two of them. Tomorrow is the rehearsal dinner, and then the next day is the actual wedding. His sister is going to be married in seventy-two hours. He's been freaking out to Clarke about it, quietly, which is probably why Octavia is asking.

Because, yeah, he has made friends with her, in a limited sense. He gets coffee at least once a day and hangs out, and she brings him baked goods and updates him on how much her baristas are freaking out about his continued presence in their lives. He still hasn't managed to do anything as drastic as asking for her number or spending time with her outside of her shop, but he's working up to that. In the next three days.

"Yeah," he tells his sister. "But I still suck at sharing, so it's not like I'm a completely different person." He pauses. "How did Lincoln know?"

"She's watching the gallery for him when we're on our honeymoon," Octavia says. "And they are friends. She's coming to the wedding."

Bellamy blinks. "She is?"

"She RSVPed. Sorry, maybe she wanted to surprise you." She cocks her head at him. "She's not just, you know. Excited about flirting with a celebrity, right?"

"Who said anything about flirting?" he grumbles. His sister just looks unimpressed, and he takes a sip of wine. "She didn't even recognize me, okay? She's very normal. And I like hanging out with her. Don't tell me you'd be happier if I was moping on your couch not knowing what to do with myself."

"That was basically what I was expecting."

"Yeah, me too. I let all of us down." He smiles at her. "Have I told you I'm proud of you yet?"

"No, but I feel like that's weird. Like--I'm getting married. It's not really that much of an accomplishment. Most people do it at some point in their lives. Good for me, I--"

"Found a great guy you love and want to spend the rest of your life with," Bellamy says. "That's pretty cool."

She inclines her head, smiling. "Okay, that part is pretty cool. But it's, you know. Luck. It's not like I did anything special." Her smile kicks up to a grin. "Sometimes, you just walk into a coffee shop and--"

He groans and kicks her under the table. "Okay, moment over. I'm not getting married."

"No," she agrees. "But maybe someday. And congratulations on making an actual friend."

"Thanks," he says, raising his glass. "Real life accomplishment right there."


"You're coming to my sister's wedding," he tells Clarke the next morning.

"I can't tell if you think this is news to me or what," she says. She's halfway under the counter, apparently looking for something. "But yes, I am."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I have a hot dress with amazing cleavage, I wanted it to be a surprise." While he's trying to formulate a response, she emerges from under the counter with a carton of soy milk and gives him a bright smile. "Honestly, I was just curious if you were ever going to find out."

"Who else was going to tell me?"

"It's your sister's wedding! I thought you might at some point interact with the guest list."

"Yeah, you definitely should have known better."

"Sorry for having some small amount of faith in you."

"You should be." He leans on the counter. "So, you're coming to my sister's wedding."


He pauses. "Shit."

She laughs. "Sorry, did you not want me to come?"

"No, I was going to try to see if you wanted to help me navigate there, because I obviously can't find my way by myself. It was going to be really smooth. But I'm in the wedding, so I'm going over really early."

"You know nothing you think is smooth actually is, right?"

"That's why I usually coast on the celebrity thing."

"Good plan." She rests her elbows on the counter, smiling. "I will be at the wedding. And the reception. I'll probably even dance with you, if you play your cards right."

It's a little sad, how exciting the prospect is. Bellamy's last actual, honest-to-god girlfriend was Gina Martin, the actress who plays Alice Longbottom, and the two of them mostly dated because they knew each other's schedules and lives pretty well and have the same sense of humor. The breakup was amicable and they're still friends, but it was over two years ago now, and while he hasn't been celibate, he'll admit that he's not really that interested in casual sex, these days. He'd like something more, and Clarke feels absurdly possible, considering how completely separate she is from his actual life.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Well, you are a celebrity." She hands him the coffee he hadn't even bothered ordering. "And I bet you look cute in a tux."


Bellamy does look great in a tux, if he does say so himself. If he can look hot in wizard robes, he can look hot in anything. Tuxes are even actually supposed to look be attractive. He doesn't manage to spot Clarke during the actual ceremony, but he's pretty confident he looked nice as he walked his sister down the aisle and kissed her cheek, and Clarke was probably even impressed. Maybe checked out his ass a little.

But then the ceremony is starting, and his baby sister is getting married, so he doesn't forget Clarke, but she's definitely on the back burner.

She hooks her arm into his once he's done with photos, right when he's about to get a little emotional about the whole thing, and he's going to thank her. That's his plan.

Then he sees her, so what he actually says is, "Holy shit, you weren't kidding about your dress."

He's never actually seen her wearing anything except her work clothes, which are just a plain black t-shirt, jeans, and a red apron. And she looks good in it, it's not like she doesn't. She's completely gorgeous all the time.

But the dress is this pale blue gray color, down to just above her knee, showing off her very nice legs, and, well--

He's trying not to stare at her cleavage, but Jesus, she has nice breasts. She looks amazing. It's genuinely difficult to keep walking toward the reception instead of dragging her off somewhere private.

She bites her lip and actually goes a little red, which is new. Shes always so unflappable. "Yeah?" she asks.

"Yeah. You look beautiful."

"Good recovery."

He puts his hand over hers and squeezes. "You do. Also, you know, insanely hot. But mostly beautiful."

She laughs, leans her head against his shoulder. "Okay, that was actually approaching smooth."

"Awesome. I knew I'd get there."

"You look insanely hot too," she says, and he grins.

"Not beautiful?"

She leans up to peck his cheek. "And beautiful."

The reception is a pretty loose affair, because Octavia and Lincoln aren't really sit-down dinner kind of people. There's a table full of food and an open bar and a bunch of tables in Lincoln's parents' backyard, but no agenda or assigned seating or anything. He'd been kind of nervous about it, because he didn't know anyone here but Octavia, and it's not like she's going to have any time to hang out with him, so he wasn't sure what he'd do with himself.

But now Clarke is here, holding onto his arm and chatting about the new recipe she's trying, and suddenly he's really excited about the next few hours of his life.

"Hey, are you hungry?" he asks.

"Yeah, why?"

"I can get you dinner without having to pay for anything," he teases, and she grins.

"Aren't you rich or something?"

"Pretty rich," he agrees. "But I don't know if I want to keep acting once the show is done, so I'm saving most of it. Plus I suck at spending money. I get paranoid."

Clarke tugs him to the bar and they order drinks; she downs about half her beer in one gulp, making him grin, and then says, "You don't want to keep acting?"

He shrugs. "Like I said, I kind of fell into it. It was never my dream or anything. And it's not bad, but the hours kind of suck and I don't love Hollywood. And doing the show is so fucking easy, you know? It pays me more than enough to live on, and it took off basically immediately, so we've never worried about getting renewed or anything. Trying to be a real actor, getting real jobs? I'm really not interested in that."

"So what would you do instead?"

"Go to school, maybe? I finished high school, but I never did college because I had to work. That could be fun. O says I'm a nerd."

"You definitely are."


"A hot nerd, though, so you're good. That's totally the dream right now."

He smiles. "I don't know. We've got another season, and then maybe a movie, and then I'm done. And I'm about ready, honestly. I love it, but--"

"It's a job, not a calling."

"Not like you and baking," he teases.

"Shut up. I'm an awesome baker."

"You are. I'm a little jealous you're three years younger than I am and have your entire life figured out."

"Not the entire thing. Just what I want to be doing right now."

"Which is?"

"Good question." She glances around, and then takes his glass out of his hand, puts it on a table, and tugs him away from the crowd. It's not private, where they end up, but it's not really that close to the festivities.

Then she kisses him.

Clarke kisses how he thought she would, firm and confident, not exactly in control, but sure of what she wants in a way that a lot of girls don't tend to be, in his experience. She's sure he wants to kiss her--as she should be--and so she just goes for it, and Bellamy slides his arms around her and kisses back, tasting champagne and lip gloss. Even dressed up and perfumed, she smells a little bit like coffee and sugar, and he can't get enough.

"Oh good," she says, breathless, when she finally pulls away. She's grinning, and he's sure he is too. "I thought we might not be on the same page."


She laughs, kisses him again, softer and quicker. "No. Not really."


"So, uh," says Bellamy, as he leads his sister through the father-daughter dance. "You're going on your honeymoon, huh?"

She looks at him like he's a fucking idiot, which is warranted. "No, we changed our minds. Who wants to be in Hawaii for two weeks? That sounds awful."

"I figured."

"What's wrong with you?"

"I was just thinking I could maybe house sit. You know. Watch out for the place while you're gone. Keep it clean. Make sure nothing goes wrong."

There's a pause, and then she says, "You're hooking up with Clarke."

"I'm hooking up with Clarke," he confirms.

"She is really hot," O says.


"What are you gonna do when the honeymoon's over?"

"Depends on how the next two weeks go. Filming on season seven doesn't start for another month. And it's not like long distance isn't a thing. I get paid a lot, I can fly places. Visit. Skype's a thing."

"Wow, you really like her, huh?" Octavia asks.

"Like I said, it depends on how the next two weeks go. But so far, yeah. I really like her."

He releases Octavia when the song ends, gives her back to Lincoln and snags Clarke for a dance of his own. People are definitely recognizing him and probably at least one person is going to post a picture of the two of them to some social media, and there will be poorly sourced tumblr posts about how he's got a new girlfriend.

Which he does, so it's not like it's inaccurate.

"So, O's gonna let me watch her house while she's on her honeymoon," he tells Clarke, giving her a twirl. Those dancing lessons he had to take for the Yule Ball episode are really paying off.


"Yup. So I'm going to be here for two more weeks. You need any help at the coffee shop? I'm going to be bored. I could use something to do."

She grins, tucks herself back into his arms. "Oh, don't worry. I'll definitely think of something."