Chapter Text
Clarke was tired.
The exhaustion was rolling off her in waves, and she was almost certain that if someone walked by her office, they would be able to see it, like stink-lines on a cartoon skunk. She had been working on this case for weeks, and it never got any easier. Not to mention her lack of sleep due to a hiccup in another case the night before, and her seven other files stacked up to the side, waiting for her to devote her attention to them too. She had never needed a lot of sleep, so for a moment she couldn't work out why she was so worn out. Eventually, her brain caught up, and she realised the tiredness was due to the fact that she hadn't eaten since the day before, more than a desire to actually rest.
It was just as that idea crossed her mind that her salvation came gliding up to the office, paper bags in hand, swinging her hips suggestively even as she glared at a paralegal walking by who dared to eye her up.
"You coming, Griffin?" Octavia's head poked around the glass door, flashing her teeth in a wide smile.
Clarke stood up from her desk, checking the time, "Late lunch, or early dinner?"
Octavia shrugged, blushing a little, "Lincoln stopped by and I got a little sidetracked, but he's at work now, so we still have half an hour to devour lunch together before your next meeting."
Clarke rolled her eyes good-naturedly and snatched the bag of fries Octavia was waving in her face out of the air, tipping some of them straight into her mouth as they walked, sighing happily as the salty, starchy, delicious food reached her stomach. She caught the odd glance being sent her way, "O, come on, I'm starving, don't judge me!"
"We haven't even reached the elevator yet!" Octavia grumbled, but there was a smile in her voice and a teasing elbow made its way to Clarke's ribs, "What are you going to do for the rest of the half hour? Because I'm not sitting there while you watch me eat, that's weird."
She was about to respond, but her phone started buzzing aggressively in her back pocket, and Clarke had to quickly swallow the mouthful of fries she'd been inhaling before picking it up, "Hello? Yes ma'am. No, of course. Yes."
She hung up and sighed, her steps faltering and a wistful look on her face as she surveyed the corridor.
"Well, we made it to the front half of the floor, that's better than yesterday," Octavia said, "C'mon, we'll finish eating in your office."
"No, O, you should go outside and finish your lunch, don't worry about it."
They had both already started moving back the way they came, ready for the long afternoon ahead of them.
"Absolutely not, if you're left alone to work on this case, you'll forget to eat. I know you, Clarke." Octavia's tone sounded scolding, and Clarke wondered where she'd learned it from - probably Bellamy. She'd seem him mothering her, barely refraining from tutting when she did something he didn't like. It would be funny, if he wasn't such a dick about it.
Clarke had been friends with Octavia for six months, and in that six months, she’d managed to ingratiate herself with her whole group of friends, something that she’d never done before. She’d been a studious child, in a rich household, and growing up her only real friend had been Wells Jaha, who was long gone.
She had gone away to law school, where she had been something of a loner, so it had surprised her when she moved back to Polis with no-one and nothing and ended up with a small family of people that she really got along with. All because Octavia offered to help her find a cab one night after a particularly harrowing case, and they'd ended up drinking together until the early hours of the morning, exchanging stories and complaining about their jobs. The next day, she'd started asking her about her food preferences, and then brought up burgers. A day after that, it had been stir-fry, and then it became a daily routine: they ate lunch together, on the roof, or in Clarke's office, taking turns buying the food and picking out new things. At the end of the week, Octavia had invited her out to her favourite club, where she had met her boyfriend, and offered to introduce her to everyone. So Clarke agreed, and she found herself ingratiated into the tight-knit band of delinquents. A group of friends she loved with every fibre of her being.
And Bellamy.
She didn’t hate Bellamy, at least not anymore, but she would still pick anyone else in the room over him, no matter what.
She’d met him last of Octavia’s friends, because he was working all the time and he could never manage to get a night off when they all went out. It was two months after Clarke had met everyone else, and they instantly hated each other, which made the tensions between the Blake siblings a little high, not that they weren’t already.
Octavia had actually thanked her in the car on the way back to Clarke’s apartment, “You have no idea how nice it is for him to be mad about someone else.”
“But he still argued with you?”
“Yeah, but for the first time in months, it wasn’t about Lincoln. So thank you.”
Clarke had laughed. She understood why Bellamy didn’t like Lincoln: he was a few years older than Octavia and his job as a bouncer wasn’t exactly a career. But he made Octavia happy, he was good to her, and Clarke decided that was the only thing that mattered. In fact, she and Lincoln had gotten even closer after Bellamy took such a disliking to her, bonding over their mutual adversary.
Bellamy wasn’t a bad person, not really. He had worked himself to the bone to provide for Octavia after their mother died, dropping out of college to keep them afloat. Clarke knew that, and yet she couldn’t stop herself from butting heads with him at every turn.
Just as Bellamy knew that Clarke wasn’t necessarily the entitled rich girl he made her out to be. He was aware of her father’s death, even mentioned it once, in passing, but he just couldn’t seem to resist winding her up.
The first night they met, he called her Princess and she called him an ass.
“The start of a beautiful friendship,” Raven had joked, which made both of them roll their eyes and scoff.
Four months after their first ill-fated meeting, Clarke and Bellamy still weren’t any closer, and she was perfectly content with that. Octavia was her friend, not Bellamy.
That night, she was going out clubbing with them all, and unfortunately that included him, but she wasn’t going to let it bother her. Monty and Jasper would be there, and they were always the life of the party – not to mention Raven.
She met the three of them in the line outside Octavia’s favourite club, The Dead Zone, and it was clear almost immediately that Monty and Jasper were already baked.
“Clarkey, my fave!” Jasper cried out, pulling her into a bear hug. She laughed and reciprocated it, while Monty looked slightly put out beside them. Jasper spun on his heel and hugged his best friend, “Monty! My fave!”
“He’s very high,” Raven pointed out, as if it needed to be said.
“I can see that,” Clarke smiled, amused, “I wish I was.”
“I can help with that,” Monty said, but she waved him off.
“My job does drug tests,” she explained, for probably the hundredth time, and her friends pouted.
“And what job is that Princess? Standing there looking pretty requires drug tests, does it?” A familiar voice said from behind her.
She turned to face him, rolling her eyes, “Yes Bellamy, performance enhancing drugs are all the rage in the job of being rich and entitled. You’ve done this enough now that I can finish your spiteful comments for you, so why do you bother? Nice of you to admit I’m pretty though.”
She flashed him a sarcastic grin and he returned it, unfazed, “I’ve never said you weren’t pretty, Princess. The only reason I haven’t made a move is that I hate you so much. If I didn’t know what you were like in person, I probably would have hit on you the first night we met.”
“Aw poor Bellamy, Clarke being unwilling to put up with your bullshit must be such a boner killer,” Raven nudged him and he chuckled lightly.
“I’m sure I could get over it,” Bellamy said, eyes surveying Clarke hungrily. She was wearing a tight blue dress, and her cleavage was on full display, and he took it all in before his eyes met hers again, “I’m always here if you need some hate sex, Princess.”
Octavia and Lincoln approached from behind and caught his last comment and Octavia stomped on his foot while making overly loud vomiting noises.
“That’s disgusting, Big Brother,” she grumbled, “And also Clarke is way too good for you, so don’t even try it.”
“Clarke thinks she’s too good for everyone,” he snapped back.
“No, just you,” Clarke winked and took Raven’s hand, following her into The Dead Zone.
Octavia and Lincoln were leaning up against the bar, fully immersed in conversation, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes. Raven was being hit on by two guys at once, and Monty was working up the courage to go and dance with the cute blonde by the speaker, while Jasper yelled encouragement in his ear.
Bellamy had been basically swarmed with women once they entered the club, and he’d left with two of them after barely an hour, which made Octavia roll her eyes and Raven nod at him in approval. Clarke had shaken her head in disbelief, but she wasn’t really surprised, at least not anymore. Bellamy frequently came out with them and he constantly left early with a woman or two on his arm.
Clarke was four shots down, and the room was spinning a little. Although that might’ve had something to do with the gorgeous woman dancing with her.
Lexa was beautiful, and fierce, and all hands, which Clarke was really enjoying. So when she leaned in close and started whispering filthy things in her ear, Clarke couldn’t drag her out of the club fast enough.
They barely made it into the cab before they were all over each other, lips and teeth and tongues. The cabbie cleared his throat and gained their attention long enough to ask for an address, and then they were back to grinding on each other, much to his growing embarrassment.
The next morning, Lexa made breakfast, and Clarke kissed her goodbye, promising to call her and actually meaning it. She was cool – they had a lot in common, and the sex was amazing.
Unfortunately, she had to meet her mother for lunch, so she ducked home quickly to shower and find an appropriate change of clothes.
Her mother was a senator, and a good one, if there was such a thing. It also made her a cold, distant woman, which Clarke wouldn’t mind so much if Abby didn’t insist on meeting for lunch every Saturday, to carry on the illusion that they were a normal family.
Clarke had hated those lunches since her father died, but she kept going, if only to honour his memory.
When she arrived, Abby was sitting in her usual seat, at her usual table, and Clarke had on enough make-up that her hangover wasn’t obvious. There was a mimosa in front of Abby and a coffee where Clarke was supposed to sit. There were also no menus in sight, which meant her mother had ordered for her.
“Did you have fun last night?” Her mother asked, clearly not interested.
“Yeah,” Clarke replied passively. It was easier to just answer in short statements, not give her mother anything to work with.
“With Octavia?”
“And Raven and Monty and Jasper,” she said.
“Bellamy?” Abby asked, her tone hesitant.
“Yeah, but we’re not friends, so I’m not counting him,” Clarke stated bluntly.
“He’s a mechanic, Clarke,” Abby said disapprovingly, and Clarke bristled.
“As is Raven. So?”
“So you’re a lawyer, and a senator’s daughter, don’t you think the company you keep should be more…”
“Stuffy, rich…? Boring?!” Clarke asked, faking a eureka moment.
Abby frowned, “Respectable.”
And then Clarke sighed, because for the first time, she was about to stick up for Bellamy Blake, “Mom, don’t start. Putting aside that I’m not even friends with Bellamy, I’m friends with his sister, the fact that he’s a mechanic is irrelevant. He’s a… urgh… I guess he’s a decent human being, as are most people who live on that side of town, just as there are people who live uptown who are thoroughly awful.”
“From a PR standpoint,” Abby sighed, waiting as the waitress put their usual order on the table. She only started again once she walked away, “From a PR standpoint, Clarke, the daughter of a senator should not be seen downtown in seedy clubs with mechanics and secretaries.”
“Octavia is a secretary at the law firm I work at.” Clarke poked her eggs with a knife.
“That doesn’t change where she lives.” Abby said sternly and Clarke threw down her fork, suddenly decidedly unhungry.
“No, I guess not,” she said bitterly.
“The Wallaces dropped by last night,” Abby said, conversationally, “Cage was disappointed you weren’t there.”
Clarke tried to cover the irritated expression on her face with a hand on her forehead, “I’m sure I’ll see him soon. You have a charity dinner coming up next Friday which I’m sure we’ll both be attending.”
“Yes. You’re to attend with him,” Abby ordered.
Clarke choked on her coffee, “You… what?”
“I’d like you to date Mr Wallace,” as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“You’d like me to?” Clarke clarified, knowing full well that it wasn’t a question, it was a command.
“Yes, at least for a month or two, just to boost your image,” Abby sipped her mimosa, “You were seen leaving the club with a girl last night.”
Clarke made a fist under the table, “So?”
“So lawyers looking to make partner at the most elite law firm in the country don’t look good leaving downtown clubs with strange women.”
“I… because she’s a woman?”
“Partially,” Abby admitted, “I personally have no problem with it, but you must know that 90 percent of the people you’re trying to impress are of an older generation with a slightly skewed mind-set about that sort of thing. If you ever want to make partner, you need to be seen with a man of similar social and political standing to you.”
“You mean straight, white and rich?” Clarke scowled.
Her mother looked almost apologetic, “I never liked it when I was your age either, but that was how I met your father – at a charity event for our two law firms.”
“The Wallaces aren’t lawyers, Mom, they’re senators, and corrupt ones.” It was an open secret in Polis that Dante Wallace had bribed, stolen and murdered his way to the top. In fact, Clarke had a particular reason to hate Dante Wallace – he was the reason her best friend was lying in Mount Weather Cemetery, and not sitting at lunch with her now.
“Clarke–” Abby warned.
“So this is more about your image than mine, isn’t it?” She questioned, downing the last of her coffee.
Abby regarded her carefully, “Yes. The Wallaces are a powerful family, and they can make or break my career. If you say no to this, they could… make my life difficult.”
“You mean like how they occasionally have people murdered?” She asked casually, watching her mother’s reaction. She looked almost… afraid. Clarke sat up a little straighter, “Mom? Did they threaten you?”
“Of course not.”
“Mom?”
Abby relented, “Dante merely made it clear to me that the man who shot Jake ended up dead himself, and that his murderer was never found. He also implied, rather heavily, that it would be easy to pin it on me.”
“So he threatened you?”
“Clarke, please, just…” Abby took a deep breath, “Just do me this favour, publicly date Mr Wallace for a few months. His own PR needs a bit of work, so Dante and I agreed that it could be a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“Okay,” Clarke said.
Her mother looked up sharply, “Really? No complaining, no seething, no slamming doors in my face?”
“I’m an adult. I’ll just do what normal adults do and whine about you behind your back,” Clarke said lightly, and for the first time in a while, Abby’s smile was genuine.
“Thank you. And between you and me, I think that girl you went home with was very pretty,” she said, “Maybe you could still see her occasionally, as long as you’re not somewhere too public.”
Clarke sighed, “No, mom, I think dating someone else, no matter how superficially, is probably going to put an end to any relationship for a while.”
She didn’t delete Lexa’s contact from her phone though.
She threw Octavia’s door open loudly, “If you’re having sex in here, stop, because I need to complain about shit!”
“Please don’t talk about my sister having sex,” Bellamy’s voice said from the living room. Great, just what she needed, someone to sneer at her problems.
Octavia poked her head around the wall, “Lincoln’s hanging out with Nyko, what’s up?”
Clarke groaned and followed her around the corner, flopping face down on the couch. Octavia sat down next to her, shoving her legs on the floor so she could fit.
“My mother.” She grumbled into the pillow.
“Oh,” Octavia said understandingly and patted her backside, “How bad is it? ‘Have to go to a swanky dinner with people you hate’ bad or ‘have to go away with her and people you hate for a weekend’ bad?”
Clarke sat up and looked glumly over at her, “I’m not allowed to be bisexual bad.”
Octavia’s eyes widened, “She did not?!”
“She did. Apparently there were photos of me and that girl Lexa from last night, and it’s bad PR.” She said the phrase like it tasted bad in her mouth.
Bellamy was in the armchair, looking unimpressed, “That’s ridiculous.”
“Welcome to my life,” Clarke pinched the bridge of her nose.
“So just don’t get caught next time,” Octavia said practically.
“It gets worse.”
“How much worse?!”
“She wants me to date Cage Wallace,” Clarke muttered, and Octavia’s eyes nearly fell out of her head. Even Bellamy looked shocked.
Octavia picked her jaw up off the floor, “Cage, son of renowned Godfather-like senator, Dante Wallace?”
“The very same.”
“Do you have to?”
“He… I… Yes.” Unfortunately, despite trying to come up with an alternative on the drive over, she was now resigned to her fate, at least for the next few months.
“Fuck,” her friend said, gripping her shoulder, “Are you okay?”
“Aside from having no idea how to pretend to be attracted to someone that I find repulsive for the next few months, yeah, I’m grand.”
“We need alcohol,” Octavia said, walking into the kitchen to find some.
Bellamy was watching Clarke carefully.
“What, Blake? You clearly have something to say,” she snapped.
“Why did you agree to it, if you hate him so much?”
“Because my mother…” she was about to tell the truth, and thought better of it, “Because she asked, and she’s right. If I ever want to make partner, I need to at least look like a member of the upper echelon, no matter how much I hate it.”
“That’s disgusting,” he grimaced.
She crossed her arms, more than a little offended, “And to think, I defended you to my mother.”
He blinked.
“No, I don’t mean you! I mean, the whole situation. You shouldn’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not just to get somewhere in life,” he said, that same frown still perched between his eyes.
“Oh. Well, thanks,” Clarke said, taken aback. This was the first conversation she’d ever had with him where they were remotely on the same page.
It was a nice moment.
It didn’t last long, “What do you mean you defended me to your mother?”
She cleared her throat a little, embarrassed, “My mom is…”
“A raging bitch,” Octavia finished for her, handing her a beer.
“She’s a good person at heart, I think,” Clarke said, “But I’m pretty sure she removed her heart when my dad died and put it in a box in the basement where no-one can ever get to it.”
“She doesn’t like that Clarke is friends with us lowly folk,” Octavia said bluntly.
Clarke sunk further into the corner of the couch, swigging her drink, “I’m pretty sure her exact words were, ‘from a PR standpoint, the daughter of a senator should not be downtown in seedy clubs with mechanics and secretaries’. It doesn’t matter to her that you work at the same law firm I do, O, she still sees you more for the place you’re from than the person you are.”
Bellamy’s slight frown became a scowl to rival Clarke’s own.
“Why didn’t you just nod along, like you usually do?” Octavia asked, a note of bitterness in her voice. Clarke couldn’t blame her. She had been in enough rooms with Clarke to see her interacting with the top brass at the law firm, to see her keep her mouth shut even when things she disagreed with were said.
“I was going to, but Mom really went in on Bellamy,” she glanced at him, “Sorry.”
He shook his head, “You needn’t have bothered defending me. I’m not trying to impress anyone, especially not anyone like you. You don’t even like me.”
“That’s irrelevant,” Clarke said loudly and he crossed his arms, almost instinctively, ready to argue with her. But she wasn’t having it, “It doesn’t matter whether I like you or not, my mother doesn’t know you, she’s never even met you, and she’s making assumptions based on where you live. It’s not fair.”
He looked surprised, “That’s very… open-minded of you.”
Octavia threw the lid of her beer bottle at him, “I’ve been telling you for six months, Clarke isn’t like everyone else at that place – why do you think we’re friends? I don’t like anyone else I work with.”
“You also tell me that Britney Spears is the height of musical talent, so forgive me if I tune out your words of wisdom every now and then,” he pointed out, and Clarke actually laughed.
“Does this mean you won’t be hanging out with us as much?” Octavia asked her.
“I’m not sure. Maybe. It’s just for a few months, until my being into women is forgotten,” she sighed.
“This is bullshit,” her friend said, and Clarke wholeheartedly agreed.