Octavia's eyes grow wide when he agrees to go with her to the museum that Sunday, because it's a well-known fact Bellamy hates art with a burning passion. Which isn't entire true – he doesn't hate it; he just doesn't understand it. And he'd rather go to a museum that focuses on his field of studies than to stare at yet another painting of the Christ dying, thank you very much.

So yeah, he agrees to go to the museum with her, because she's been rambling on and on about that one exposition she wanted to see, so why the hell not. He has nothing better to do that weekend, after all, and it's been a while since their last sibling quality time session.

(It has nothing to do with a little blonde artist who's been haunting his thoughts.)

(He saw her at the library the other day, lost in an old copy of the Iliad, which may or may not have been the most boner-inducing scene he's ever witnessed in his life. Which, you know, says a lot about how screwed he is on the subject.)

That's basically the story of how Octavia drags him to the museum on a Sunday morning, because she says this early there will be no annoying children running around. Which, great. He guesses. Only he gets bored twenty minutes in – he has no idea when exactly Octavia fell in love with art because he doesn't remember it ever happening, but here she is now, starring at each painting for five minutes, making little humming sounds and tilting her head to the side. And it's cute, his sister is really cute, but Bellamy is bored as fuck and he ends playing fucking Candy Crush on his phone as he trails behind Octavia like a lost duckling.

He isn't even sure Octavia cares if he's following or not.

She's moving to another room because of course there are other rooms, this fucking museum is a fucking maze alright, and Bellamy is following her when he catches a glimpse of another room to his left, and he – he just kind of steps back to look through the door, because that flash of golden was familiar and –

Yeah, she's here alright, standing in front of a painting as she hugs her sketchbook to her chest, and even from afar he can see the pencil holding her mess bun together. Deep in thoughts, focused on the painting in front of her, so Bellamy looks back to Octavia – she's long gone now, and he wonders how long it will take her to notice he's no longer by her side – before he sneaks in the other room.

As silent as possible, he walks towards Clarke until he's standing above her shoulder, grin tugging up his lips in the moron he most definitely is. "I'd hug you, but they say not to touch the works of art."

His voice startles her and she stares at him, cheeks puffed up a bit as if trying hard to keep in a curse word, but he also sees the amusement in her eyes when they find his, the way she then tries her best not to smile back. "Is that line for real?" she asks, going for upset and failing miserably.

"Yeah, no, I'm going to hug you anyway."

She laughs, a little breathless giggle, as he pulls her to him, both arms wrapped around her waist as he presses her back to his chest. She leans her head back against his shoulder, closes her eyes when he drops a kiss on her temple.

Their first date, and first kiss, was last week, and they haven't really seen each other since, just a text here and there to check in so – he isn't really sure if they're actually dating, but close enough he guesses. Or something. He isn't sure.

"I should keep going before my sister calls 911," he says, because Clarke is his maybe-probably-who-knows-girlfriend and he really doesn't want Octavia to meet her now when he isn't sure. This is textbook bad idea.

Clarke nods and stands a little straighter, and he has to force himself to let go, because he really doesn't want to. He likes hugging her, because he's a moron that way and he's very fucking doomed when it comes to Clarke Griffin.

(Fuck, he hopes they're dating.)

"Hey, Bellamy," she calls softly, tugging a stand of hair behind her ear. "Wanna grab some coffee tomorrow?"

He grins, because he can't help it. "Sure. I'd love to."

(He's the first to arrive at the coffee shop the following day, and when she shows up, she shrugs out of her jacket and kisses him on the lips before sitting opposite him.)

(They're definitely dating.)