It was mid-August before Clarke felt worthy of Bellamy's love again. She hated that it took her seven weeks to accept everything that happened that afternoon wasn't her fault. He—Carl Emerson—is sick and needs help. Any man who thinks he has the right to touch a woman without her consent is certainly out of his mind and in need of help.

She smiled at the thought and opened the door of the apartment from a mind numbing day at work to find Bellamy grading quizzes, she seriously hates summer school because it stresses him out more than regular school did. His inky hair was a mess, his fingers combing and yanking it every which way, his red pen tapping against his bottom teeth, a tell that he was annoyed with the quiz answers.

Clarke knew what she had to do, she's been wanting to do it since she woke up that morning with such surety that even if she changed her mind, she was sure that her body would do it on impulse.

He hadn't noticed her yet so she snuck up behind him and when she was directly behind him, she pulled the pen from his fingers and lips and as he turned to look at her, she leaned down and their lips met, slightly off center, but all that really mattered was that she wasn't freaking out over being touched by someone—by Bellamy.

She wanted more, she wanted to see how far she could push herself, if there were any limits she had with Bellamy after Emerson. She pushed him against the back of the chair and climbed into his lap before parting her lips and Bellamy warily licked into her mouth. Clarke sighed, she still wanted more, she needed more of him and she didn't want to wait for him to realize she's truly okay with what's going on. She's in control, it's what she needed.

"Clarke, wait," he said in between kisses but she pressed on, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt. "Clarke, please."

She pulled back and looked at him, slightly embarrassed that she practically attacked him but also not even remotely close to regretting it as he cupped her cheek.

"Are you okay? You didn't take anything to make your worries disappear for a few hours? Is there even a drug that does that?"

Clarke chuckled, loving that he was worried about her. It's Bellamy, he's always worried about the people he loves and she's finally accepting that she's one of them. "There's weed, which could have that effect on people but I haven't taken anything, I'm just accepting that I can't control everything. That Emerson wasn't my fault and in the aftermath of that, I pushed you away again. I don't want to push you away."

He smiled, placing his hands on her waist gingerly, "I'm not going anywhere."

"You can say that now, but you can change your mind too."

"It's been years, Clarke. I'm pretty sure it's not going to change."

"I know you're busy, but if you need a break…" she shrugged, biting her lip.

"Yeah, I could use a break. Where—"

"Bedroom," she suggested and Bellamy, without warning, moved his hands from her waist to her ass and lifted her as he stood, his chair flew back onto the floor and he carried her to his—their—bedroom, depositing her on the bed.

"You're amazing, you know that?"

Clarke rolled her eyes, "I—"

"What is it?"

Clarke grimaced, "I don't exactly know. I know I want to be with you and everything that entails, but I don't know how to get there. It's like I forgot or…"

"You're nervous. I am too. We don't have to do anything now or today, we have time. We have all the time in the world."

"I want to, but I don't want to freak out on you because of what he did."

"Hey," he sat next to her, taking her hands in his and making sure she's looking in his eyes when he said the next part, always so serious. "This is about you and what you want. We can stop whenever you need to, okay?"

She shook her head, "That's not fair to you."

"Believe me, I will be fine. I just want you to be comfortable, no matter how long it takes to get there."

Clarke nodded, "Take your shirt off."

Bellamy chuckled, releasing her hands before pulling his shirt up and over his head.

Her eyes roamed over his taught torso and thick arms for a moment before she lunged forward, pressing her mouth against his in a persistent tight-lipped kiss, feeling his body stiffen underneath her brash movement. He placed his hand on her neck, his thumb softly stroking the sensitive skin behind her ear.

She closed her eyes when he moved that hand to cup her face, angling her head just right, a soft reminder that this is Bellamy and he's there for her. He's always there for her as she would for him through everything. The warmth of his lips against hers again coaxed a sigh of relief out of her and she relaxed into him. The tip of his tongue teased the seam of her lips, not wanting to push her, but she welcomed him.

He was sweet, and caring, and just Bellamy. Bellamy's actions give her all the confidence she needs to embrace so she could do this, so she could be with him. Her heart pounded out of her chest as she crawled in his lap, his other hand landed on her waist. He's gentle and Clarke appreciated it while also knowing he's holding back for her and it simultaneously frustrates her and makes her love him more.

There was something about being with Bellamy, something that soothed her mind, calmed her soul, and every worry disappeared until it was just them. She slowly ground her hips against his, reveling in the delicious friction, rapaciously sucking his bottom lip in her mouth. She was growing frantic and needy and she wanted this to be more than just fucking, she wanted him to know that she loved him even if she couldn't just say it because the words didn't seem like enough and she couldn't think of the right words that portrayed how she really felt.

She kissed him and kissed him, waiting for him to get it, to get her. He held her steady, his fingers sure and unmoving and completely infuriating. She frowned at that, moving her hands from his shoulders, down his biceps to his wrists, moving his hands to the hem of her shirt, she wants him to push it further, she wanted to feel wanted (not that she didn't, but him initiating something would help her out). His thumb massaged her hips, under her shirt before pulling it up and over her head and pulling her back in to kiss him.

With the new expanse of new bare skin, Bellamy's hands wouldn't stop moving, grazing over every inch of new skin the forgone shirt now exposed. His fingers stopped at the button of Clarke's jeans and she swallowed hard before nodding that it was okay. The button of her pants opened with a pop and the breath that she was holding released. She could feel the pressure of his hardness burns against her core, even through their clothes, and she shook her head suddenly unsure, "Bell, I—I…" she sighs.

"Take as much time as you need, okay?"

"No, I want this like this. I want to be with you. That's the only thing I'm certain about right now."

Bellamy nodded, "I want you happy. If this helps you get there, I'm all for it, babe, but we don't have to. We can watch a movie or I could cook dinner instead."

Clarke sighed and climbed off his lap and she watched Bellamy take that as an answer, standing to leave when she stopped him with a forceful hand on his chest. "Pants."

His expression changed so quickly, Clarke thought they'd never stop, his face was an open book and it was one of the things that she loved (and for the last seven weeks somewhat hated) about him, confusion then pain then joy, Bellamy's wanted this far longer than she's allowed herself to admit knowing about. She could find sexual tension building since that first moment they met, she didn't remember much about it aside from the spark and she hated how she shrugged that moment off after it happened. Tucked him into the abrasive asshole file in her brain and let every other detail fade away until the next semester when they had economics together.

His face finally landed on hunger, the lustful kind, and Clarke gave him a look, challenging him to defy her. He didn't, his hands fidgeting with the button before pulling down the zipper, its' fluctuating purr causing Clarke's breath to hitch.

"Clarke…" Bellamy started but she shook her head and pushed his pants and boxers down. She didn't look at him, feeling that if she did, she'd back out. It's been too long and he's more experienced, which she never thought was a problem until this very moment where she's psyching herself out over everything. She wants him, more than anybody she's ever wanted, and because some other man violated her, she can't be with who she wants. Can't please the man she loves even when she wants to. "Condom?" he asked, his hand caressing her cheek.

Nodding, Clarke realized that she had tears pooling and she quickly blinked them away while Bellamy moved around the bed to get a condom. Why didn't he question the tears? Why is he letting her be so strange about it all?

He sat on the side of his bed as he looked in his side table for a condom and once her tears were gone Clarke went to him and sat next to him. "I'm sorry I'm being so weird."

"You're fine. You forget that I know you and know that you wouldn't still be here if you didn't want this."

"That doesn't mean that I'm not freaking out."

"I'm aware. We don't need sex to be together—friends or more—if you're not comfortable with it. I just need you in my life."

Clarke sighed, she wanted to look at him but this was so much and she wanted to hold on to him, a reminder that he's really here, so she wrapped her arms around his bicep, dropping her head to his shoulder. "You shouldn't have to settle for anything less than what you really want."

"Our friends considered us a package deal long before I could even admit I had feelings for you. Long before you left, while you were with Finn, it's not going to change unless we're never going to talk again."

"Not talking to you for three years sucked," she agreed.

"It certainly did. Take as much time as you need, don't force yourself into something you're not ready for."

Clarke stood abruptly, her decision made and her fingers hastily struggled with the button of her shorts before giving up and tugged them down, her damp panties going with them as they fell to her ankles.

Bellamy's jaw dropped and Clarke knew it was due to her boldness, not because he hasn't seen her nearly naked, he's seen her in a bikini and this was almost like that just without bottoms.

He licked his lips as his eyes rolled over her body. She's still wearing her bra and she wasn't about to remove it herself, she wants to know how good Bellamy actually is, not the reputation that precedes him. She had to look away from him, the look in his eyes, on his face, was too much for her to take in on top of it all. Her eyes landed on the open drawer and found the condoms tucked under an old movie ticket. She grabbed the box of condoms, the movie ticket coming with them and Clarke looked at Bellamy once she realized what movie it was.

"I thought I was asking you out and then you showed up with Raven and Monty… I thought you were telling me you weren't interested in being more than friends with me."

"You invited me to see the Winter Soldier, specifically that movie. I wanted it to be a date, but then Raven asked where I was going and, well, you know the rest."

"Our friends are cock blocking assholes," he chuckled.

Clarke laughed, handing Bellamy a single condom.

Once the condom was on, he leaned backwards on one arm braced on the mattress behind him and the other on his bare thigh, reminding her that he's completely naked. He looked relaxed for her with half expectancy and half caution.

"Is there any way that I can make his easier for you?"

Clarke shook her head, placing her hands on his shoulders as she straddled him. His hand moved from his thigh to her waist as her lips crashed onto his, distracting herself from what's about to happen.

Reaching between them, she guided herself down into his shaft and a shuttering sigh left her lips only to be sucked in between Bellamy's. She's tight around him, but it felt nice, promising, she's going to be okay.

After a moment she began to move, struggling slightly with moving the right way. The intimacy a little too intense and too soon but she needs to do this. She needs to prove more to herself than anyone else that Emerson doesn't have a hold on her from prison, that she can move past what happened without running away—though that might be for Bellamy as well. Her face broke into a grimace at the awkwardness of her position. "Bell—" she pleaded and his hands went to her hips, helping her move at the excruciatingly slow pace to start them out at.

"That's it, Princess," he reassured her in that low bass tone of his that somehow grew impossibly deeper with hunger. It'd typically make her toes curl and set a fire inside her that'd spread at an insane pace, but she still wasn't ready for all this. She may be in a controlling position but she was slowly breaking, she won't get off, just bide her time until Bellamy does, he deserves it for putting up with her insanity.

She caught sight of his expression, his face warped in a kind of pleasure that endorsed that she's doing more than okay. His hooded lids open and his lips part to egg her on with words to aid her to no avail.

Forcing a surprised moan reverberated in her throat when he thrust upward to meet her slow rocking and if this happened months earlier that would have caused her to fall over the cliff calling out his name in ecstasy. She loved him and she wanted to give this to him so when his face was buried in the nape of her neck, she moved quicker, bringing his orgasm to fruition quicker than either of them wanted. If this were a normal situation, she'd thought that Bellamy would've been embarrassed with how quickly he came, but this wasn't normal.

Bellamy slumped back onto the mattress, taking Clarke with him and she laid on top of him, his cock softening inside her as she tried not to cry. His fingers stroked her spine as Clarke tried hiding her face from him in his shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked softly, toying at her bra strap.

No. "Yeah," she said weakly, climbing off him and onto the other side of the bed, her back to him.

"Clarke, I—we don't need this to be us, you know that, right?"

"But how are we supposed to enjoy this if we don't try?" she countered though she knew what he meant. It's only been seven weeks since it happened, seven weeks with another man forcing her compliance, breaking her trust and courage.

"You're right, but maybe this was too soon."

"When will it be okay?" her voice broke and Bellamy sighed behind her.

"When you're really ready. Not when you think you're supposed to be ready. Trauma, just like grief, has no time limit."

"And you're just going to be okay with that? Not being with me?"

"I don't know to make you believe that I'm always going to be here for you. You, Clarke, that's all I want. Sex is a plus, but that's not where we are and I'm okay with that."

Clarke rolled over and looked at him, still lying on his back, his head turned, looking at the back of her now turned head. His eyes were full of affection and worry and serenity that Clarke knew he was serious, he didn't care about the physicality as long as she was in this with him. She was.

She moved into his side, her head on his chest and his arms wrapped around her loosely. They didn't need to say anything, they're together and that's what they cared about.

"Tell me about the day we met," she whispered, tracing an invisible doodle on his chest with her nails.

"What?"

"I want to know your side of it."

Bellamy scoffed, "The day we met? You were a know-it-all asshole," he chuckled, pressing a whisper of a kiss to her temple. "We were registering for classes, you were on the phone and said something stuck up to whoever it was—Wells, I think—and I scoffed and we had this big ridiculous dick measuring contest that neither of us won and I called you Princess too many times, I could have worn out that nickname that day alone, but I like it too much and it worked you up more and more and I thought that if anything were to come out of it and the rubbing together of your legs it'd be sleeping with you.

"I was an asshole back then and I certainly didn't know how important you'd be to me barely a year later. I jerked off in the bathroom to the image of you in that little white skirt."

Clarke chuckled at the thought of him rushing through registration to get his hand wrapped around his dick, her eyes moving down his torso to his half hard erection.

"I took it off when you were distancing yourself from me," he said about the missing condom and continued with the description of the first time they met. "I think I hated you without knowing why, I didn't know I could be so sexually frustrated from an argument."

"I had the opposite reaction and Finn wasn't too pleased about that, accused me of cheating on him and not being attracted enough to him. It was days of arguments with him before I realized that it wasn't him I was wanting to pick a fight with."

"And then Raven?"

Clarke sighed and smiled, "And then Raven."

"You know, sometimes I don't think we would have stopped fighting if it weren't for her interference."

"We wouldn't have stopped fighting against what we truly believe because the other shared the same opinion on the matter. She called us out. We fought because we didn't know what else to do with each other."

"I probably loved you then, but I didn't know what loving someone was like aside from loving Octavia and this is definitely not that." He paused, or maybe it felt like that because Clarke didn't know what to say. It was the second time he told her and the second time she froze instead of saying it back. "Then a semester later, I was the only senior in the pre-rec Econ class and I hated that I didn't know anyone and thought harassing the princess from last semester's registration would be a better choice than sitting alone and noticeably being the oldest student in the room.

"You had smudged red lipstick on, like you put it on and while kissing someone goodbye it smeared and you tried fixing it but the intense pigment wouldn't allow it so it was smudged, and status-preaching pearl earrings. I hated them."

"Lexa," Clarke nodded, remembering. That was a whole other depressing clusterfuck of a story.

"She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Bellamy quipped.

Clarke chuckled then sighed, "I'm sorry."

"We'll get there," he stated, giving her a quick squeeze.

3 Months Later (November):

They got there, rather she got there.

"Bellamy," she sighed, fingers grasping tightly to the bedsheets. "Oh! Bell—please!"

He chuckled against her clavicle, his tongue doing devilish things to her delicate and too pale skin. His fingers were curling and pumping deep inside her, driving her closer and closer to the edge, but she really needed him to stop assaulting her throat.

"My mother," Clarke was able to get our before his fingers pulled another deep, throaty moan from her, her eyes rolling back

"Not an image I need right now," he groaned, licking her salty, sweaty skin.

"You're meeting her tomorrow—holy…. FUCK! Always do that!—do you really think bite marks on my throat is going to put you on her good side?"

Bellamy pulled back, his fingers froze inside her (maybe they should try ice) as he looked down at Clarke on full display under him. "Keeping her daughter relaxed is my top priority and this is the best and most enjoyable way to make that happen."

"I know, I'm completely enjoying myself—please, keep moving your fingers—but I really don't think either of us need to hear her inane lecture about STI's and babies."

He did as she asked and was slowly pumping his fingers in and out of her, driving her even more insane than she thought possible. "What?"

"She's… look, I don't know," she squealed, her breath catching at the end. "I would just rather not argue over something as trivial as a hickey."

"Trivial?" he countered, withdrawing his fingers fully and Clarke looked between their bodies at his shimmering fingers, groaning, her hips bucking with desperate need.

"God, you know what I mean, they don't need to happen in order for the sex to be good. And if you're so inclined to ravish my body with your mouth, anywhere easily concealable would be preferable."

"Isn't this also your first time meeting Kane?"

"Oh, sure, stress me out without alleviating it. You're doing a great job maintaining your top priority," she groaned, fully taking her frustration out on him since it's now all his fault.

"You really don't want to bite the hand that feeds you," he smirked, hand dropping to cup her.

"I want to bite you."

"Mm, yeah? Let's do that for a while," Bellamy smirked and before Clarke could even question his meaning, he had them flipped over on the mattress and Clarke was on top of him, grinding herself down onto his boxer-clad erection.

Clarke smirked, kissing Bellamy once before removing the rest of their clothes.

"They loved me," Bellamy said five minutes after pulling out of the driveway, on their way back across town to his house.

"You should have heard about what my mom said about my neck," she scolded.

"Oh, please. You loved everything we did last night, you can't pretend I didn't drive you crazy."

Clarke rolled her eyes, "In the most infuriating way, Yes."

"God, even after getting you to scream my name for hours straight, you still deny me. I love you too."

Clarke shot her head over to Bellamy and gaped at him. Cat got her tongue and she just stared until he turned his head to look at her at a stoplight.

"Come on, Princess, you… you don't have to say it until you're ready. I'm sorry."

She didn't say anything, she didn't know what to exactly say that could make not being able to say those three small, impactful words back even slightly okay. It wasn't that she didn't feel it, so why couldn't she say it?

Six Months Later (May):

Clarke rolled out of bed, in desperate need of coffee and the bacon that she smelled, the combination of aromas thoroughly intoxicating as she stumbled out of the bedroom and down the short hallway to the kitchen, finding Bellamy milling about, hating having idle hands.

She grabbed her chipped white and pink princess mug out of the cabinet, pouring herself a cup and drinking her first cup black. "Morning," she sighed, leaning against the counter where he was cooking eggs on the back burner.

"Hey, I was thinking about going to the—" Clarke stopped him short by pressing her lips to his. She needed him to know. She needed him to know how she felt and how much she appreciated him for giving her time and space while she worked through it all because he will never know what it was like, how invalidating and dehumanizing those hours felt and that it changed how she looked at everything, even him. She's still insanely in love with him but it's difficult to actually say it, make it real.

"I love you," she whispered, looking into his slowly opening eyes, his impossibly long lashes. She surprised him. Their foreheads pressed together and he sighed when he smiled and even though Clarke could only see the crinkles in his eyes that matched a certain sparkle in them, she knew his smile was radiant.

"I know."

"No, Bellamy. No one else would have done what you have for me. I—I can't thank you enough, I could thank you every moment for the rest of our lives and it still wouldn't be enough."

He touched her waist gingerly, as though she were going to break. "You'd do the same for me. That's what we do, balance each other."

"You…" she needed a moment to search for the right words. She needed to make sure they were powerful and showed him that every word, no matter how small weighed more than their Scrabble value. "You center me."

"I will take that over 'I love you' any day."

"It could be ours," she smiled, cupping his strong cheek, feeling like nothing could touch her, completely safe with Bellamy.

"God, I missed your smile."

"I missed having a reason to smile."

Bellamy pulled the eggs off the burner, leaving them there to ignore and get cold. "What caused this welcome revelation?"

Clarke sighed, pulling away to really look at him for the first time that morning. "I can't let him control my life, my happiness. He doesn't get that, I get to control that and I want to be happy. I want to be happy with you."

One Year Later (May):

"I love you," Clarke smiled, the words getting easier and easier over the year.

Bellamy was dropping her off at work, Luna rented her the space above the gallery so she wouldn't muck up Bellamy's floors, no matter how accidental.

"You center me," he smirked. He was goading her, every time one of them said it, they wound up in bed together and it wasn't that Clarke was against it at that current juncture in time, he has to get to work and she has a show coming up in Raleigh that she had to prepare for.

She rolled her eyes, "You're coming here after work?"

"Yes. Do you want coffee or anything?"

"I'll text you at two. I might just have Murphy take me home if I get done early, I'll let you know."

"You're close with Murphy?"

"You know this. He's an asshole, but he's a good guy. You were friends with him, you should know."

Bellamy nodded, "I love you."

"Get going, you're going to be late," she smiled, leaning over the center console to kiss him goodbye.

The kiss was swift and sweet and, as per usual, left Clarke wanting more, happy that it has that effect after everything.

She ran into the building, avoiding the rain as much as possible. She loved the rain, but sometimes it was too much.

There was a knock on the door that if Clarke wasn't listening for, she would have missed it under the music she always blasted to keep her focused. "Hey," Murphy said in the doorway as Clarke was cleaning her brushes for the day.

"Hey, are you going that way?"

"Always business with you, huh, Griffin?"

Clarke rolled her eyes and turned to him as his eyes were latched on her latest work. "Only with you."

"Yeah, you know I always offer when I head that way, can't have you walking across town."

"I appreciate it."

"Bellamy does too, he almost kicked my ass the first time. Almost."

"You're with Emori, what more do you need?"

"Apparently a snarky blonde," he smirked. "You almost ready?"

"Yeah. Can we stop on the way?"

"Harper's?"

"You can't tell me you don't love Shay, he's the sweetest baby in the world," Clarke cooed, placing the freshly washed brushes in their jar before going into the bathroom to change her pants so she doesn't accidentally get paint on Murphy's worn leather seats.

"He reminds me why I spend money on condoms," he said through the door. "What's that painting of?"

"You're an ass and it represents how I'm feeling about Bellamy right now, I think. Why?"

"It's a ring… I don't think it's an engagement ring, but it's definitely a band of some sort. You planning on trapping him?"

"You trapping Emori?"

"Condoms."

Clarke stepped out of the bathroom in a change of clothes, that definitely didn't look cleaner, everything she owns has paint on them, it's just a matter of if the paint's dry or not. "You're such an asshole. You don't want to marry her?"

"We're in a good place, why change that?"

Clarke rolled her eyes as she pulled her bag over her shoulder. "It's your relationship. Let's go."

They stopped in Harper's and Clarke order her usual and a chocolate croissant for Murphy, no matter how much he groans about not eating them, she knows he does because Emori texted her a picture of him eating them almost every time. Shay was sleeping in Harper's office so Clarke didn't get to see him, but she talked to Harper a little bit about watching him one day, see if the whole baby thing was something Clarke could handle, knowing that Bellamy was going to want one.

"Seriously?" Murphy groaned when Clarke got back in car, handing him the pastry bag.

"Just showing my appreciation."

"I'm going to tell Blake that you want to marry him."

Clarke scoffed, "He knows."

Three hours later, Bellamy walked into the house and collapsed on the couch next to Clarke, deliciously shirtless.

"Not that I'm complaining, but where's your shirt?" she asked, curling into him.

"I wanted to cuddle with you and the damn rain is back and having you curled into my side with a damp shirt on is very uncomfortable and makes my skin feel weird from the extensive dampness."

Clarke chuckled as Bellamy kissed her temple. "You're such a dork."

"You were watching Shameless without me?"

"No, I fell asleep three episodes ago and I was lost when we watched last night, so I was just catching up on what I missed."

"That's allowed. How's Murphy?"

"Dissuaded by Shay and aggravated over chocolate croissants, so Murphy."

Bellamy huffed, "You goad him."

"He makes it too easy."

"I ordered Thai."

"Marry me?" Clarke asked without thinking and froze. Of course Murphy planted the idea in her head that afternoon, but she didn't think she'd act on it.

"Yes. I was going to ask you next week when the ring came back from being resized."

Clarke sighed, twisting on the couch to look directly at Bellamy, sitting on her heels. "I—fucking Murphy!" she groaned.

"Uh, okay? Not the response I was looking for."

"He was criticizing the painting I finished today and put marriage in my head. I know I want to marry you, but we hadn't talked about it or kids or our future. I know you want kids, but we haven't talked about any of it."

"Do you want to talk about it? Pretend the last minute hasn't happened and talk about everything first?"

"You want kids?"

"Three."

Clarke nodded, "I could do three."

"Maybe two and adopt one, I don't know, I always thought adoption would be a good thing to do."

"We can discuss that after we have one."

Bellamy nodded, "You're good with marriage?"

"I'm in love with you, yes."

Bellamy smiled. "Good, then it's settled. We'll get married and have a kid, how long do you think that'll be?"

"Nine months…"

"You know what I meant, how long do you want to wait before we try for kids?"

"A year after we're married. I—I don't want a big wedding, I could go to town hall right now and do it. I don't want a fancy wedding."

"Your mom?"

"You know she'll take over and make it her vision and I just want you there. We can call O and Lincoln for witnesses. They're family."

"You know our friends will go ballistic if we get married without them even knowing we're engaged."

"What if we have a reception, we don't tell them it's a reception, just a party in a banquet hall, semi-formal dress, invite my mother and Kane and Jaha too and announce it then? Have O and Lincoln walk in ahead of us, driving together from the court house, and introduce us as the Griffin-Blakes. No offense, but Clarke Blake? Horrible, like Jarrett Barrett.

"Do you know a Jarrett Barrett?"

"No, sounds like a hillbilly name. I heard it somewhere though probably Polis."

"I like your plan. Are you sure that's what you want to do though? You won't regret having a small wedding?"

"Yes, and because it's also saving money, we can spend my trust fund—shut up—on a nice down payment on a house. I have a love/hate relationship with this apartment."

"No that's—it's your money, Clarke," he grimaced for less than a second before his face went neutral again.

"It's our money and will be our house for our family."

"You're serious?"

"Bellamy, I could never be more certain about us than I am right now," her voice faltered, because his uncertainty was making her nervous. "Are you?"

"Yes, of course, I just thought we'd spend more time discussing it and I'd actually have a ring for you when we got engaged."

Clarke smiled, "I don't need a ring to know that I'm yours."

"Yeah, but the assholes in the world won't leave you alone if we don't have a ring on that pretty finger of yours."

Clarke chucked, "I'll fight them all off."

Bellamy laughed, "Get over here, fiancé, I need to kiss you."

Clarke easily straddled his lap and kissed him until the Thai food delivery guy knocked on the door.