Clarke adjusted the baby girl in her arms, walking out of the med bay and hearing the door slide shut behind her. She didn't know why her mother always offered to watch her patients' babies if she knew she couldn't be reliable about it.
Now being a prime example when some idiot shot himself in his own damn leg because he forgot to turn on the safety and her mother had to rush into surgery, leaving her to babysit. She'd really have to give Bellamy a good talking to about that. The other guards seemed to listen to him, so maybe they'd pay attention if he actually taught them about gun safety.
"Some people are such idiots, aren't they?" she cooed down at the little girl-Lila-staring up at her with a confused look, like she wasn't so sure of this strange woman she'd never seen before looking down at her.
Clarke pushed the impromptu diaper bag over her shoulder and headed towards the exit of the Ark where she could sit with her friends and share the burden of minding an infant.
"How about we go outside for a walk, huh? Your Mommy and Daddy won't be back for a few hours and Abby is a little busy, so you'll just have to settle for me."
But apparently Lila didn't like the sound of settling for anyone because she started to squirm in her blanket, little fists grabbing at Clarke's shirt.
"Come on," Clarke soothed. "I thought we were going to get along, Lila, hmm?"
A few civilians passing by gave sympathetic smiles to the fussy baby and she returned the gesture despite the diaper bag beginning to slip from her shoulder and a squirmy three month old in her arms.
Lila's brown eyes wrinkled shut, pink lips parting in a whimpering cry.
A little pit of panic settled in Clarke's stomach and she took a deep breath. You can do this. She's just a baby. You just need to find out what she wants.
"All right there, Princess? You look like you've got quite the handful."
She looked up from the little girl whose cries were growing louder by the second, fingers digging into her shirt, and saw Bellamy just coming out from the hallway that led from the guard's headquarters.
"Yeah my mom needed me to babysit for a few hours." Lila let out a low wail.
He actually looked clean for once, his grey t-shirt devoid of usual dirt and stains. His face was even clean enough that she could see his freckles, and his dark hair curled against his tanned forehead.
Clarke glanced down and felt a blush creeping up her neck when she realized that Lila had tugged her shirt low enough to expose the top of her bra. She pulled it back up while Bellamy coughed and looked away.
"You know, she's hungry," he said once she was done, closing the distance between them. "That's why she's doing all the. . ." He waved his hand in a vague gesture around her chest. "Yeah."
Clarke paused, trying to keep ahold of the baby despite her kicking. That actually made sense, why hadn't she realized that? "I know. I was just heading outside to feed her."
"Isn't it a little cold outside for her?" Bellamy asked, eyebrows raised.
She huffed out a breath. Screw him and his ideas that actually made sense. "Then where else am I supposed to go?"
"You and your mom have a room in the Ark, don't you?"
Lila was drawing attention now, her shrill cries echoing through the hallway.
"Yeah but-"
"Do you mind if I-?" Bellamy reached out for the baby, waiting for her permission with an expectant look.
She was shocked that he'd want to help in the second it took her to remember that Bellamy had practically raised Octavia. "Uh, sure."
And then her heart clenched when he gently took the crying infant from her arms, one hand under her head and the other cradling her against his broad chest.
"Hey there, sweetheart, you hungry?" Her wails didn't stop and she was still thrashing in her blanket but Bellamy held her close to his chest, re-wrapping the threadbare green cloth around her flailing limbs. "How about we get you some food."
Clarke was too dumbfounded to speak as she watched him, perfectly at ease with a crying baby, talking to her in a low voice.
"I guess you can, ah, come with me," she coughed out and he followed her to her room, completely oblivious to the way that everyone else was looking at them. Then it hit her that they were smiling because they probably thought Lila was she and Bellamy's and that he was just being a good father. Why did that prospect not scare her as much as it should have?
Meanwhile Bellamy was rubbing Lila's back and murmuring to her in a way that made Clarke want him in the most un-sexual way she'd ever wanted a man. It was more than a little surprising (even a little unnerving) to see him so. . . affectionate.
"Here we are," she said and stopped at the door, unlocking it with the key ring from her pocket. She held the door open for him and flicked the light on.
"I'm assuming you've got some food in there?" Bellamy said, nodding to the bag on her shoulder.
"Yeah," her voice cracked and she cleared her throat, fumbling open the bag to rifle past the cloth diapers to find the sealed glass bottle. Her hands were clumsy as they unscrewed the lid and attached the rubber nipple.
"Can you heat it up?" Bellamy asked, looking around, but the grey windowless room was bare except for the identical beds against opposite walls, a small mirror, and a set of shelves. "Nevermind."
Lila had caught sight of the bottle and calmed, sniffling, cheeks still damp. Bellamy wiped the tears from her plump cheek with his thumb (Clarke had to put her hand on the bed to keep from falling over) and chuckled down at her. "Well, well, look who's quieted down." He took the bottle from Clarke.
Lila immediately quieted and started suckling, one tiny hand resting on the glass of the bottle that Bellamy held upright for her. The way that he was looking down at her, smiling in a way that Clarke hadn't thought he could. . . She sucked in a slow breath. Bellamy with all his carefully-built walls down was apparently too fucking adorable for her to handle and God, that was confusing.
"Thank you," she managed to get out, sitting down on the edge of her bed to watch him slowly pace the room.
He glanced up to her, the soft smile lingering. "You looked like you were struggling a little."
A flush rose on Clarke's cheeks and he made his way over to her, easing down on the mattress at her side. Lila's wide brown eyes were fastened on him but he was looking at Clarke. "I don't have much experience," she admitted.
"There wasn't exactly an overpopulation of kids on the Ark," he said, readjusting his grip on the bottle.
Clarke bit her lip. This ease that Bellamy possessed with Lila was. . . oddly comforting. "I've only really read about babies."
Lila's eyelids seemed to be growing heavy and she pushed the nipple out of her mouth, lips wet and pink. Bellamy offered it to her again but she just pushed it away so he handed it over to Clarke, still half-full. "Is there a towel or something?"
She sifted through the bag, taking a few deep breaths to drag herself together before she pulled the slightly ratty scrap of terrycloth from the bag, offering it to him.
He just nodded to her shoulder. "It's your turn, Princess."
Her breath hitched. Usually when he "Princessed" her it was sarcastic, occasionally teasingly affectionate, but the way it rolled off his tongue this time around had Clarke digging herself deeper and deeper into the hole that was witnessing Bellamy Blake acting like a decent human being.
She spread the towel on her own shoulder and he passed over Lila, his hands brushing hers when she rested the tiny body gingerly against her, head on her shoulder. A terrifying warmth spread though her now that Lila was calm and all she could think about was the way her soft hair felt against her neck, the little wrinkled hands resting on her arm, the collar of her shirt. And all her mind was telling her was that she wanted one, wanted a baby of her own.
"Soft pats," Bellamy said, showing her on Lila's back, and Clarke moved her hand to replace his.
Lila's head was drooping, her cheek pressing against Clarke's shoulder. Clarke whispered into the soft brown down, "looks like you're being a good girl after all, aren't you?"
She only let out a little burp and Clarke smiled, pulling Lila's blanket over her bare limbs, pausing to look at one of the little bare feet, small and soft with nails so tiny they were barely there at all.
She kept rubbing the slight back, feeling the small breaths, the little wriggles as she relaxed into her. There was something innately peaceful about it, being needed.
She glanced up to Bellamy when she felt his eyes on her and froze at the curious look in his eye. Damn the heat creeping into her cheeks. "What?"
He shook his head, glancing away. "You're a natural," he just said and his face was suddenly firm. "You never told me her name." He reached out to stroke the back of the dimpled hand resting on Clarke's shoulder.
"Lila," Clarke murmured and watched her grasp one of Bellamy's fingers, barely even able to wrap her hand all the way around.
Bellamy chuckled and stroked his thumb over the hand curled around his index finger. Clarke looked at the ground when he let his hand rest against her shoulder a few moments before pulling away.
A hesitant silence settled between them until Clarke looked down at Lila. "Is she asleep?"
Bellamy leaned back to see the baby's face. "Yeah."
"Will you take her? I need to go to the bathroom."
Lila stirred and let out a soft noise that made Clarke want to keep her in her arms, but she handed her over to Bellamy carefully and the girl settled against his chest, her head just under his neck. She looked even smaller against him, curled up in her blanket under his big hands.
"We'll be waiting," he said and something in his words made Clarke pause, looking back at him before opening the door but he treated it like nothing he'd said was any different than usual.
Out in the hallway she resisted the urge to pass out, because Bellamy Blake with a baby snuggling into his chest was apparently too much for her to handle.
The community bathrooms were just down the hallway but she was antsy to get back to the pair in her room. Her luck must have run out though, because just as she was leaving, an older woman passed her, their neighbor, and pulled her aside to chat.
While Clarke forced a smile and tried to find an out, all she could hear was Bellamy's voice murmuring a low "sweetheart," all she could see was his muscular arms cradling a swaddled bundle, and was too enamored to even feel bad for her weakness. God, she was a weak, weak woman.
At last she escaped and hurried back to her room, slipping inside.
She froze, heart practically stopping at the sight of Bellamy leaning against the wall her bed was pushed against, eyes closed, Lila tucked into his chest.
Her heart was pounding as she slowly shut the door as quietly as possible, standing awkwardly in the center of the room, deciding whether to wake him or let him sleep. Before she could stop herself, she dimmed the lights, slipped off her shoes, and crawled onto the mattress.
Clarke paused, waiting to see if he was actually asleep or not. It was entirely possible, it had been a long day, but she hadn't been gone that long either. "Bellamy?" she whispered, but he didn't respond.
It was just because of Lila, she told herself. This was an exception. She brushed her finger along Lila's soft cheek and settled against Bellamy's warm side, tucking herself along the line of his body, waiting for him to open his eyes and ask what the hell she was doing.
She took a deep breath and eased her head down onto his shoulder, reaching out to rest her hand on Lila's back, her pinky touching Bellamy's thumb.
This was all just a dream, because no way in real life would this feel as good as it did. She certainly wouldn't get butterflies over Bellamy sleeping with a baby on his chest in real life and she wouldn't be laying on his shoulder to sleep with him and said baby.
Clarke could feel the hard muscle in his arm against her side, could feel the strength in his shoulders pressed against her cheek and she allowed herself a slight turn of her head so her nose was against his worn shirt.
And then in a very not-asleep-after-all way, he pulled his arm out from under her. She held her breath, waiting for the laugh of ridicule.
But he was quiet, only reaching around her back, arm loose around her waist. He turned his head into her hair and might have-if she weren't dreaming of course-kissed the top of her head.
Clarke let out her breath, relaxing into him. Falling asleep on Bellamy's shoulder with a baby between them should have scared her, should have made her want to run into the woods never return. It shouldn't make her mind wander to curly haired blonde babies with tan skin and freckles. It shouldn't make her want to see him dealing with kids a whole hell of a lot more often.
But she wasn't scared.
She didn't want to run.
And damn it, she wanted him.
She could only hope that he wanted her back.
-
Two months on the ground was all it took for the women to start coming to the med bay asking for pregnancy tests, and by the time the first year was up, the biggest population boom since the mid twentieth century was underway in Camp Jaha, and Clarke was up to her elbows in babies. There were even several new midwives and nurses in training, but even then Clarke and her mother could barely handle the sheer amount of babies that they dealt with on a daily basis.
Eventually her mother had overseen her training enough that Clarke felt comfortable adding "midwife" to her list of titles, right up there with "princess," something that she was proud to claim despite the kick in the gut her sleep schedule gave her for it. Babies didn't wait to come during the day-in fact, they seemed to arrive just when she was the busiest or doing other important things like sleeping-but at the end of the day, or sometimes the beginning of it, it was all worth the sleepless nights.
Seeing the new parents with their children, the joy that it brought them had Clarke happy for the future. And that was something she hadn't felt for a long time.
But for all the happiness spreading through the camp with the arrival of children left and right, sometimes there was equal loss.
The fact of the matter was that while Clarke and Abby had made leaps and bounds in grounder medication versatility and the development of new tools to get by with as little as possible, sometimes that just wasn't good enough. Babies were fragile and sometimes Clarke couldn't prevent them from breaking.
The first time she'd lost a baby during delivery, she'd had nightmares about it for weeks, seeing the pale body with the purpling cord wrapped around its neck, hearing the mother crying in the distance. It got easier and that alone was terrifying, that she could numb herself to the loss.
Even worse, though, was the first time that she couldn't save the mother.
Postpartum hemorrhage. That was the medical term. Blood loss. She should've realized it but she'd been too distracted by the baby boy who hadn't been breathing evenly to notice his mother was bleeding her life out. It wasn't the nurse's fault, she wasn't a day older than seventeen just staring training; she was unfamiliar with the norms. It was her fault, Clarke told herself as she moved to the intercom by the door. No pulse, no life. She should've done her job better.
She'd been up all night but that was no excuse. No excuse at all. Plenty of other people had gone on even longer than 30 hours straight and made less of a mistake than she had. The newborn was screaming but she pushed the button to connect to the guard station.
"Hello, I need two guards in Room C of the med bay to transport a body," she murmured into the receiver.
A burst of static, then. "We'll send someone right away, ma'am."
Clarke didn't realize she was shaking until she walked, numb, to the tray of tools and picked up the patient's file, scanning over the general information. Spouse: Deceased.
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and rubbing her hands down her face. God. If she'd only just checked.
"We need to get this blood up," she said and looked to the teary-eyed nurse who was trying to quiet the baby. She glanced to the woman's body on the bed between them and gave a slight worried shake of her head, terror in her eyes.
Clarke just took a breath and nodded. "It's fine, I'll get it."
By the time there was a knock on the door, she'd managed to clean up what she could, covering up the woman while her son screamed on and on. She opened the door for the guard ready to take the body away, and found not only a guard she didn't recognize, but Bellamy as well, standing behind the stretcher with a crease in his brow.
"What are you-" Clarke began as he pushed inside around the guard, eyes falling on the woman in the bed and the baby in the nurse's arms.
"I overheard your call. I could tell something was wrong." He was on duty, wearing the black guard's uniform, a gun strapped to his chest, looking ever the leader. He was frowning in that way that he did when he was determined to get something done.
Suddenly the nurse started sobbing as the guard transferred the mother to the stretcher. Bellamy looked to her and strode over, saying something Clarke was still too numb to hear. He gingerly took the newborn from her arms.
"Careful-" Clarke instinctively bit out but stopped when she saw Bellamy's hand under the infant's head and remembered that he knew what he was doing.
He rubbed the nurse's back while she sniffed, apologizing.
Clarke didn't realize she was on the brink of breaking down right after her nurse until she tried to speak past the knot in her throat. She took several breaths, hands covering her mouth.
Bellamy caught the guard as he was leaving. "Find Major Byrne and tell her I won't be able to make my shift today. If she has any problems with it, you can have her take it up with me later."
"You can't-" Clarke insisted, grabbing his arm, but the other guard had already left.
"I just did," Bellamy said firmly and she glanced to the baby resting right next to the gun strapped to his chest.
"What are you even-" she started, taking the baby away from him. "No weapons, damn it."
He stared down at her, then to the nurse who was washing her hands silently. "You, nurse, you can go."
Clarke looked to him in surprise. Why was he just letting her-
Hannah's head turned over her shoulder, first to Bellamy, then to Clarke. "Is that. . . all right, Clarke?" she asked in a soft voice and all of her hesitations vanished at the sight of the girl's blotchy cheeks and puffy eyes.
"Yeah, go get some rest. You deserve it."
She dried her hands and then wordlessly left.
Bellamy pulled the holster over his head and reached for the crying newborn again. Why was he even doing this? "I'm trying to help you, Clarke," he said quietly, stepping towards her. "Let me help you," he added, softer and rested his hands on her shoulders.
His palms were warm and heavy through her shirt but all she could think was that the little boy in her arms was an orphan because of her. Do not cry. She just nodded, knowing the tears would come if she spoke.
"Okay," he said, sounding relieved. He looked down at himself. "Am I suitable now? No guns anymore, all right?"
She gave a slight smile at his attempt at being lighthearted and nodded again, carefully passing over the boy. He didn't even have a name yet. His mother hadn't even gotten to hold him.
"Hey there, little guy," Bellamy said, shifting him into one arm, his head nestled in the crook of his elbow. "I know you're probably a little scared right now, but I've got you." Bellamy put the tip of his finger on the pink gums while he was wailing, and then as soon as his mouth closed, he eased a little, eyes wide and teary.
Clarke bit her lip, something in her calming as the baby did. As much as Bellamy could infuriate her sometimes, he could have equally the opposite effect when he chose to. It was in his voice, his calming ability, the low tone that she had to step slightly closer to hear.
"You're going to be okay," Bellamy whispered and even though he was talking to the baby, Clarke's racing heart slowed.
She turned with a deep breath, medical training setting in. While Bellamy kept the baby entertained, she cleaned up the room, washing the tools and gathering the soiled towels from the heap in the corner, tossing them in the basket that the cleaning crew would take care of later.
At last, she turned to Bellamy who was looking down at the newborn and shifting slowly from side to side. "We need to clean him up," she said, the first words she'd spoken since he'd arrived.
He glanced up to her, and she noticed that he'd rewrapped the blanket tighter, and that the baby was now holding onto his finger. A bit of the grief evaporated at that, the sight of a gruff, sometimes harsh, man whispering to a baby barely half an hour old.
"Sure," he said, undaunted, and she got a fresh cloth from the cabinet.
"You can hold him while I wash him if you want," she said as she turned on the water in the sink and waited for it to get warm.
"Anything you want me to do, I'll be glad to."
She bit her lip and stared at the water coming out of the faucet, remembering when he'd been hard-pressed to do anything she wanted.
He'd loosened the blanket and came over to the sink, distracting the baby while Clarke gently wiped off the blood.
Bellamy kept glancing to her face as she worked and he switched arms so she could get the baby's other side, holding him up so she could get his back.
"You do this for all the babies?" he asked and she shrugged.
"All the ones I deliver. Sometimes the nurses do it."
She chewed on the inside of her cheek and felt him glance to her again. "Why do you keep looking at me like that."
"I'm not looking at you," he murmured, still staring.
Clarke huffed out a breath and finished with the baby's head, finding a clean side of the washcloth and dabbing at his cheeks. He didn't seem to like that, though, and started to whimper, twisting away from her hand.
"Come on, baby," she said gently, continuing on despite his protests. "Just a little more, I promise."
By the time she finished, he was crying again, something that would've made her feel bad had just started working with babies, but by then she was used to their hissy fits.
"Any clean blankets?" Bellamy asked as Clarke was rinsing out the rag.
She nodded to a shelf above her head. "Up there."
He had to step close to her to reach up to it, his body mere centimeters from hers. She could smell his soap on his skin and resisted taking a huge breath in. Snap out of it.
She turned and saw him spreading out the blanket on the bed, laying the crying newborn down-they cried so much-and swaddling the cloth around his kicking limbs. Damn it his arms were distracting. He was already particularly. . . appealing in his uniform. Adding a baby to the mix wasn't helping. At all.
Bellamy picked up the baby and held him close to his chest in one arm-the newborn was only as long as his forearm-and faced her.
"Are you not going to ask what happened to her?" Clarke said, leaning back against the counter, hands braced on the cold steel. She met his eyes briefly then looked at the floor.
Bellamy hesitated for a moment. "I figured you'd tell me when you were ready."
Clarke chewed on the inside of her cheek. The logical side of her brain was telling her that it wasn't her fault while the rest of her was beginning to throb with grief. "She's the first I couldn't save, you know."
"You can't save everybody," he said firmly.
She closed her eyes. "I know. But that doesn't make it any less difficult."
She heard his footsteps cross the room and then his hand took hers, intertwining his fingers with hers. She jolted up in surprise and realized how close he was standing, a worried frown wrinkling his brow. "Sometimes there's nothing you can do. You understand that? Don't blame yourself."
She looked down to his shirt, where his tan neck disappeared into the stiff black uniform. "The father is gone too."
He glanced down to the quiet baby in his arm. "Then where's he. . ."
"I don't know," she said weakly.
"Hey, come here," he said in a low voice and pulled her close against the side of his chest, his warm arm wrapping around her waist.
She stiffened at first then relaxed into his warm chest, pressing her forehead into his shoulder, breathing in the smell of him. Her arms were folded between them and his hand rubbed up and down her back.
"Just think about everyone that you have saved," he said into her hair.
She let out a short breath. "I don't know if that's enough."
Clarke woke up slowly, shifting in the warmth of her blankets and taking in a long breath. She stretched her unusually stiff muscles and yawned.
"Well, look who decided to join us."
She jolted up in bed at the voice that was most certainly not her mother's. What the-
Bellamy was staring at her from the middle of her room, and when she saw the newborn baby wrapped in a blanket and nestled in the crook of one arm, she remembered that they'd gone back to her room and she'd just thought she'd lie down for a few minutes. . .
"What time is it?" she asked, throwing off her rumpled blanket and looking at her watch. She'd been asleep for the whole day, and now it was close to eight in the evening. "Damn it, why'd you let me sleep that long?! I had patients to see, what happened to-"
He got to her just as she slid out of bed, grasping her shoulder with his free arm while she panicked. "I took care of all that. You mother and I agreed that you needed a day off."
She paused and looked at him, confused. "You actually talked to my mom?" Bellamy and her mother didn't exactly get along. The sleeping newborn shifted in his arms and he lowered his voice.
"Yeah, she came in here in the afternoon and I think seeing me in here scared her half to death. . . but she wanted to tell you that she might have found a family willing to take him in but it'll be maybe a week before they can get everything in order."
Clarke pushed back the covers and found the socks she'd kicked off in her sleep, rising to check on the baby in his arms. "Where is she now?" But despite her worry, Bellamy had done fine with him (she really needed to start realizing that he had years of experience under his belt) and he looked the picture of perfection.
She couldn't resist a slight smile, warmth seeping through her veins despite the near-frigid atmosphere in the Ark.
"Someone else's baby is coming, I think."
"Probably the Morrison's," Clarke murmured absentmindedly, still looking at the baby and finally registering what he'd just said. "Wait, what about the week that the family can't take him?" She looked up at Bellamy.
He met her eyes then looked back down to the baby and she saw his eyes soften. Clarke thought she knew what he might say, but she needed to hear it just to be sure. "I thought you and I could help out, and I sort of already told your mom that, so you don't really have much of a choice. . ."
She brushed her finger along the plump cheek beneath her finger and the baby shifted, nuzzling his face into Bellamy's chest. The prospect of caring for a baby that long on her-their-own when the baby wasn't hers-theirs-was as equally exciting as it was daunting. "Can you let me hold him for a while?" she asked instead of acknowledging what he'd just said, afraid she'd give away how embarrassingly happy it made her.
Bellamy slipped the sleeping infant into her arms and she smiled, his little body warm against her chest, so light. In all the months it'd been since she'd been delivering the babies around camp, she'd never had more than a few seconds of holding them, and even then they'd been squirming or crying, most of the time just seconds into the world. Taking the time to hold a clean, sleeping newborn felt exactly like everything that she'd been missing.
Bellamy hovered close to her when he could've moved away.
"I think we can manage a week," she asked softly, still watching the small face against her breast, feeling him stir through the blanket, letting out a quiet noise in her sleep. Her heart melted, from both the baby and the part of her that was oddly thrilled that she could refer to she and Bellamy as "we" and be parents for a week.
"Don't get too attached," he said with a quiet laugh. "He's only ours for a week."
Ours. "I guess I'll just have to wait to get attached to our own baby," she said before she could stop herself and blushed furiously. Damn it.
"I suppose you will, Princess," he murmured, an off-beat tone to his voice that only made the flush rise higher in her cheeks.
Well, while she was already embarrassed. . . "Why exactly did you offer for us to take care of him?"
He let out a short breath. "Just being helpful."
Clarke looked up at him, eyebrows raised. She wasn't buying that and he seemed to realize it, a flush on his freckled cheeks, making him look years younger. But he always looked younger when he wasn't glaring someone to death.
"You'd just laugh."
"I won't." She bit her lip, smiling.
He shook his head, running a hand through his dark curls. "Stubborn princess."
"Humor me."
"When don't I?"
"Bellamy," she said seriously. Now she was even more curious.
He glanced away, letting out a long breath. "I miss it."
Clarke tilted her head to the side, a smile creeping across her lips. "You miss. . . it? What's it?"
He seemed frazzled, shaking his head, lips a thin line. "Forget it, I-"
Then "it" clicked. "A baby. You miss taking care of Octavia when she was a baby."
He seemed embarrassed then, stepping away from her. "If you ever tell anyone that, I'll. . ." he said quickly but apparently couldn't find think of anything incriminating. "Just don't tell anyone."
Clarke stepped forwards, resting a hand on his arm. "Hey, Bellamy, it'll be our secret. That's actually-I wouldn't think many men would admit that." Was it possible for her ovaries to faint? Because that's what it felt like.
The baby boy let out a little moan and they both looked down at the same time. "When did you feed him last?"
"Maybe two and a half hours ago. A woman dropped off some milk. She said she'd bring some by every day." He gestured to a bag on the lowest shelf on the opposite wall.
"He needs to eat soon, then." It was odd how quickly their conversation would change, flashing back to the baby at just a moment's notice, already so protective even though the baby was technically neither of theirs.
They both sat on her bed, backs against the wall, talking in low murmurs as Clarke woke up the baby to feed him, and before long he was asleep again in the little bed Bellamy had made while Clarke had been napping. It wasn't much more than a crate lined with blankets and a pillow, thick enough on both sides that he wouldn't be able to roll over in his sleep.
Bellamy dimmed the lights and sat on the bed next to Clarke again, their arms brushing each other as they watched the sleeping baby.
"They sleep so much," Bellamy commented.
"They have a lot of growing to do in their first month," Clarke said, breath catching when Bellamy's hand shifted to rest on her knee but he pretended that nothing was different.
"Hmm." Pause. "You know we can't just keep calling him 'him.'" He glanced over to her.
"We can think about that together, then. Just a temporary name. Until his family adopts him." In the dim lighting, she could feel the fatigue pulling at her limbs again and she just wanted to crawl under the blankets and curl up until one of them had to get up in another two hours for another feeding.
It had been a few months since she'd fallen asleep on his shoulder, a single night they hadn't acknowledged but that had stuck in her brain ever since. This night felt different though, less hesitant and more curious. It was as if caring for babies made them both triple their affection for one another.
"You're still tired," he noted and nodded, starting to head for the edge of the bed. "I'm not surprised, you were up for so long-"
She caught his forearm. "Wait."
He glanced back at her and swallowed, his eyes meeting hers in the dim room.
"Stay with me."
There was a moment of hesitation, then: "I'll get the lights."
She released his arm, heart suddenly pounding in her chest as she slipped off her jacket. He made his way slowly back across the room after he'd flicked off the lights and when she could see his silhouette next to the bed unbuttoning his black uniform jacket, she bit her lip. He laid his jacket across the back of the nearest chair and then bent to unlace his boots.
"Scoot over," he murmured and she shuffled closer the wall as he slid under the covers next to her. They were both lying on their sides facing the other.
Clarke stared at him in the dark. Though the guilt of that morning was still fresh in her mind, having him there with her made her feel safe, comforted.
To hell with it. She moved against him, curling into his chest, forehead pressed into his collar bone. One leg hooked over his.
He let out a breath that ruffled her hair at the back of her neck and his warm arms wrapped around her, strong and firm against her back. There was a hesitance in his movements, but that was far from worrying. She was well aware of the number of women who'd made their way into his tent in the past, so if he was hesitant when it came to her. . . He really did care about her.
She wet her lips, turning her face up to him, breathing in the warm gunpowder and wood scent that always clung to his skin. And then she felt his hand sifting through her hair, resting lightly on the back of her neck.
Her heart was going a mile a minute and she could feel his pounding just as fast under her hands curled against his pectoral muscles.
Bellamy's lips pressed onto her forehead at first, and her breath hitched at the contact. Then they slowly trailed down to her cheek, his breaths wafting over her chin in the darkness. And then they were hovering at the corner of her mouth, drifting slowly over to press softly against her lips.
The kiss was slow, warming her from low in her belly. Her hands wandered up to slip around the back of his neck. It was a kiss long in the making, unrushed, and she savored every tantalizing movement of it.
As they settled into a familiar comfort, their kiss grew firmer, slow and deliberate, and frankly, hot as hell. His heavy palm pulled her flush against his body and then she was rolling on top of him.
Something seemed to crack between them, and he was suddenly firm and sure of himself, lips hard against her, tongue slipping into her mouth. The palm on her back slipped beneath her shirt, hot and calloused against her bare back as he held her closer, his thigh parting hers.
But then a shuddering cry started up, breaking into their bubble and they pulled away from each other, foreheads leaning together, breath mingling between them.
Please not now, she begged, but the baby took another breath and let out another wail that echoed through the room.
Bellamy groaned, breaking their silence. "I have a feeling this is what our lives are going to be like for the rest of this week."
Clarke laughed, slightly giddy as she crawled off of him and headed for the makeshift crib. "I think we'll be able to find a few minutes here and there."
She could practically see the smirk twisting on his lips. "Oh, we're going to need a lot longer than that, Princess."
-
"It's your turn, Princess," Bellamy mumbled into Clarke's hair as the alarm went off for Augustus's four am feeding.
She fumbled for the ringing alarm on Bellamy's guard-issued tablet and shut it off, sinking back into the warmth of his heavy arms. Nestling into his chest, she buried her face in the crook of his neck and breathed in the fresh scent of him from his nightly wash. "I just got up at two," she grumbled, eyes already slipping shut.
Bellamy grunted, his wide palm rubbing her back for a moment before he shifted to get up.
Abby had been more than happy to give up her bed for Bellamy to stay in while they took care of the baby for the week, but three nights had come and gone and he hadn't touched it. If anyone knew about their newly-borne relationship, they hadn't said anything, leaving she and Bellamy to hide away their quiet kisses for their time alone when Gus was asleep or otherwise occupied.
But there'd been far less time for that than Clarke had expected. Between minding Gus and feeding and changing him, there were also her patients to see to and he still had his duties as an officer of the guard. Not to mention the laundry and cleaning and washing to make sure the apartment stayed germ-free so Gus didn't get sick.
The days were the hardest to get through, when Bellamy had to fulfill his hours and she had to clock in at the infirmary, it was a veritable chaos of scheduled pass offs. Nights were. . . different.
Bellamy flicked on the light over the sink and she watched him pad softly over to the crate-cradle they'd improvised, the dim light shadowing the muscles along his bare shoulders and back. She didn't mind the sleepless nights already beginning to wear her down. Because there was something beautiful about it too, the selflessness that she saw in him when he dragged himself out of bed at three in the morning to comfort the child crying a few feet away. Something about being needed made it worth it.
She watched him wordlessly, eyes raking over the tousled curls sticking up in odd directions from his head, down to the sleepy baby snuggling closer against his warm chest, then across to the blanket hanging over his forearm. He turned to rifle one-handed though a bag on the shelf and she resisted the urge to stare at the curve of his ass through his tight boxer briefs, his strong legs shifting as he murmured to Gus.
"It's time to eat, little guy, then you can get back to bed. But we've got to keep quiet so Clarke can get some sleep, what do you say?" He fished around for an empty bottle and a packet of milk the wet nurse had dropped off that afternoon. "The princess needs some peace and quiet."
Her heart constricted. Part of her wanted to know what it'd be like to hear him call her by a different name to a child. A child that was decidedly theirs.
"You're doing an awful good job of wearing us out, aren't you, Gus?" he murmured, barely audible as she heard the suckling noises of Gus taking his bottle.
Bellamy's back was to her and she shifted in bed, pulling the covers tighter around her to replace his arms to minimal effect. He turned at the sound and squinted towards the bed where her head was peeking out from the blankets. "Clarke? You still up?"
"Yes," she said as quiet as she could manage and curled deeper into the blankets. Sleep still pulled at her eyes, but there was something so compelling about the scene before her that made her want to witness every moment of it.
"You're on rotation in what, four hours? You should go back to sleep."
She looked at him for a moment too long, highlighted in the small light above the sink. And then rolled over, afraid he'd see too much in the way she was eyeing him and Gus together.
She stared at the wall and listened to him finish up with the baby before putting him back to bed. He wasn't being fussy, thank God, which was a small blessing they'd learned to appreciate over the past few days.
And then Bellamy was flicking off the light and climbing back under the covers next to her, warm arms catching around her waist to pull her against back against his chest. She grasped his forearm that wrapped around her and tried not to let her heart rate get away from her. Their bare legs intertwined, and she felt him nuzzle into her hair, sending shocks of contentment pulsing through her chest.
Their comfort around each other had escalated in the past few nights, and they'd slept every night in the same bed with their bodies pressed close together. Still, they'd only kissed but there was no shame in her mind when she changed clothes in front of him, turning her back when she took off her bra to sleep at night, trying to ignore the curious way his eyes flickered over her body.
Bellamy was all hard lines and firm muscle, but his terse exterior had seemed to fade away a little in the past few days as they'd shared something so strangely domestic as caring for a newborn baby. It was both strange and oddly welcoming.
Now he didn't hesitate to pull her in for a hug when she was tired and just wanted the assurance of physical contact. He'd curl up against her back in the night and she'd wake to find him enveloping her like a starfish, not letting her go until the last possible second either one of them had to get out of bed. He was still an asshole some of the time around other people but there was also a newfound gentleness that the baby seemed to bring out in him.
Only one reason among many she was dreading the day she'd have to hand over Gus to his "real" parents.
The next afternoon, they'd decided to exchange Gus at lunch and Clarke was the last to show up, just coming from treating several burns from one of the work crews.
Bellamy was already seated at the long scrap metal table their friends usually claimed when she made it out of the food line. He was wearing the wrap Octavia had fashioned for the two of them: a long scrap of cloth that looped over the shoulder and under the arm so they could hold Gus hands-free when they had to work and mind him at the same time.
He had one hand resting on Gus strapped to his chest as he ate, and one tiny foot peeked out from the faded blue fabric, pale against his black guard's uniform.
"Mommy and Daddy are reunited at last!" Jasper cheered as Clarke came up behind Bellamy and rested a hand on his shoulder to peer down at the sleeping baby cuddled against his chest.
"We're not parents," Clarke insisted weakly even though she'd all but accepted it herself. They'd been receiving the same teasing for the past few days and there really wasn't anything they could do to stop it.
"You guys named him, doesn't that mean you've got to keep him?" Monty teased as Clarke sat down.
"Bellamy named him. I didn't exactly have much say in the matter," she said with a wry smile to the man in question.
"You said you liked it!"
Octavia rolled her eyes. "Could you two please save us all years of angsty complaining and just get married already?"
Jasper snickered. "Or just skip right to the honeymoon."
Do. Not. Blush. "Oh shut it," she groused, avoiding Bellamy's eyes.
"Yeah, plus we obviously don't have any time for this," he said with a shrug, as if time were the only thing from keeping them from having a baby of their own. "It's only been three days and neither of us have gotten any sleep and-"
Jasper leaned over to Monty. "Probably because they're too busy f-"
Octavia shot him a glare, even more intense with the grounder paint she'd taken to wearing. "Not in front of the kid."
"He doesn't even understand!" Jasper laughed but Octavia reached out to pat Gus on the back.
"I don't care. He's my adopted nephew and I won't stand for that sort of language around him."
Clarke smiled, warmth stirring in her stomach. She knew it was all going to end when the week was over, that they weren't actually parents and they'd have to watch from afar as he grew up, but that didn't mean that she couldn't indulge herself and pretend. Pretend that Augustus really was theirs and that he was there to stay.
The baby began to stir and Octavia and Harper leaned closer to see him start to wake up, affectionate smiles growing on both of their faces.
"It's my turn to hold him, Bell," Octavia said and didn't wait for him to assent before she was gingerly pulling him from Bellamy's wrap herself.
"Hey, hey, hey," he protested. "Be careful! You've got to hold his head and-"
Octavia glared at her older brother. "Yes, Mr. I'm-Not-A-Dad, I know how to hold a baby. Lincoln and I visited a family with a newborn in TonDC last time we were there."
Bellamy hovered while she brushed the light hair back from Gus's forehead. Then he frowned as her words hit him. "You and Lincoln were visiting kids?"
Clarke snorted because she'd heard the story and knew there was nothing like whatever was running through Bellamy's head going on between Lincoln and Octavia. Leave it to her older brother to worry that there was.
Octavia looked at him like he was stupid and brushed her finger down Gus's plump cheek, straightening the too-big shirt he wore over his diaper. "Not like that. Everyone likes babies."
Bellamy eased a bit and Clarke dig into her lunch while Octavia and Harper entertained Gus.
"How was he this morning?" Clarke asked, leaning in towards Bellamy.
He shrugged. "He slept for most of the morning. Woke up for a while when I was with Kane and then fell asleep when I went to go train the cadets. He hasn't been changed in a while though, so he'll probably need one before. . ."
They both looked to Octavia and Harper who were wrinkling their noses.
"And that's my cue to leave," he finished quickly, picking up his empty plate.
Octavia just held Gus-ever innocent, gurgling and blowing spit bubbles-out towards her brother. "Your son needs you," she teased.
Bellamy looked to Clarke for help and she rolled her eyes. "Can't ruin your reputation by other people seeing you change a diaper, now can we?" She swallowed and took the bag at his feet, easing Gus into her arms. "Heaven forbid Bellamy Blake have anything to do with babies except for holding them and feeding them. Wouldn't want your fan girls to get the wrong idea."
"My fan girls?" he called as she headed off with the diaper bag over her shoulder. She looked down at Gus who was still happy as a clam despite the mess that he'd inevitably made.
When she returned a few minutes later, Bellamy was back to sitting, his arms crossed over his chest, looking ever smug. Great, so Octavia told him. "So apparently there's a whole following of women in this camp who spy on me when I'm around babies?"
Clarke passed a clean Gus off to an eager Harper, trying to tame the blush on her cheeks.
She'd heard the murmurings, yeah, but if Octavia and Harper had bothered to tell him, then it was definitely making its way faster around camp than she'd thought.
"I doubt it's a whole following," she insisted, trying to ignore the jealousy burning through her stomach. She wasn't the only one who enjoyed Bellamy with kids but that didn't mean she wanted to share. Damn it, Gus was their baby.
A smile twitched at his lips. "O says that it's because they think I'm hot when I carry Gus around."
She frowned and his smile broadened. "Well they. . . I don't know why they would think that," she finished primly.
"Oh, you don't? You don't have any problems with apparently dozens of other women watching me when I'm with our kid?"
He was baiting her, sure, she knew that. But hell, it was working.
And then she caught the sidelong glances of a few girls eyeing the group of them from the table next to theirs. They tittered like sparrows and gazed at Bellamy like he was the god of hot men holding babies or something (even if he was, that was none of their business).
Bellamy was grinning at her from his seat on the bench next to her while Jasper and Monty were trying not to laugh too hard at the obvious anger on her face.
"Mommy doesn't like it when other women look at Daddy," Jasper whispered not-so-subtly, earning him a smack across the chest from Monty.
Bellamy ignored them. "So, Princess, what do you think? Can you share me with the rest of the camp?"
An image of him lying on his back in her bed with Gus laying on his chest while they both napped flashed through her mind and she snapped. "Hell no," she growled and tugged his head down to hers, hands on either side of his face as she kissed that teasing grin from his lips.
She was vaguely aware of Jasper hooting and Octavia laughing and Monty's jaw probably dropping but then his arms were pulling her closer and he was kissing her back.
Her hands slipped into the short curls at the back of his neck but then she pulled away before it could get too intense. She sniffed, retreating to her seat and sitting stiffly with her hands folded on the table in front of her. There. A quick, triumphant glance to the girls at the other table and she was satisfied. Please, bitches. He's mine.
Bellamy was grinning like a madman and still staring at her while Octavia gestured between the two of them. "So what, does that mean that you guys are finally a thing?"
Clarke met Bellamy's eyes, crinkling at the corners, and turned back to the rest of the stunned table. "We do have our own kid, what did you expect?"
She grinned at him and then Gus made a little whining noise in Harper's arms.
"I think he wants his Daddy," she said with a wry smile and Bellamy gladly accepted the fussy baby, cradling him on one strong arm.
Clarke's stomach twisted, her breath catching in her throat. Would she ever get used to the sight of Bellamy holding a newborn like it was the most precious thing in the world? Probably not. But she could sure as hell get used to it.
"You guys will make good parents," Octavia said and Clarke's eyebrow's rose. Not would, will. No one denied it.
"And damn good ones at that," Bellamy added, pride in his voice as Gus shifted in his arms.
Clarke grinned at him and she knew he was right. Not now, not even in a few years, there'd come a time when they'd get to prove that. For real. And she couldn't have been happier.
-
Clarke and Bellamy missed Gus. There was no denying it. Clarke went to bed in their new one-room cabin with a glance to the cradle sitting in the corner, empty, a constant reminder of the baby they only saw once, maybe twice a week. A baby that decidedly wasn't theirs.
So when both of the weekend day care instructors who ran the small, but necessary, cabin next to the small school, showed up with a stomach virus in the infirmary, Clarke was only too enthusiastic to jump in and volunteer her and Bellamy to take their places.
"Clarke," Bellamy just groaned when she woke him up early that Saturday morning, throwing a heavy arm over her and dragging her back into bed. "It's too early to be up," he mumbled into her shoulder, arm tightening around her stomach when she tried to peel away.
And as much as part of her wanted to sink back into bed with the wonderfully shirtless man she had all to herself, the rest of her was too dedicated to helping out that she just kissed him once, pried his arms away, and threw a clean shirt at him. "Come on, get dressed or we'll be late."
They were half an hour early to the cabin with the fenced in yard around the back and the wide woven rug layering the inside, shelves of paper and crafts and carved wooden toys sparsely lining the walls.
"How many kids come here?" Bellamy asked, eyeing the large playpen lined with blankets.
Clarke peered out the back door into the fenced in yard. "Twenty? I don't know. Enough for two people to handle."
Bellamy said nothing, but when the parents started trickling in to drop off their kids, anywhere from one to ten years old, and they started multiplying by the minute, unease threatened to rise in Clarke's chest. But Bellamy greeted each with parent with a smile and a firm handshake and assured them that their kids would be fine and have a great time, something in her eased.
By the time all the parents had left, the two of them were left a playpen full with four toddlers, a rowdy bunch of older kids running around the yard, and one eleven year old "helper" who was already playing dolls with another girl sitting on the rug.
And after that, Clarke didn't even have time to worry. The morning passed in a flurry of making sure no one ate any dirt, that the toddlers were in clean diapers, and a general (if somewhat chaotic) peace existed. One newborn was one thing, she realized as she passed around the morning snack of fresh berries and nuts, but a whole class of kids? More than she expected.
The only benefit to the day was Bellamy. Every single one of the kids loved him and she was only just a little bit jealous (just a little).
He didn't have to raise his voice to chastise anyone, nor did he ever have to use more than a firm grasp of an arm and a placement in the corner time out chair to calm any tantrum. He made sure everyone was playing fairly and had enough time on the small double rope swing set out back.
He didn't complain about escorting someone to the bathroom or changing the diapers of the younger toddlers who screeched and giggled when he tickled their bare stomachs.
A little girl tripped over her untied shoelace and sat in the dust with a skinned knee, crying, until Bellamy picked her up, took her inside and cleaned her up. She sat on his knee, sniffling into his shirt while he bandaged up her leg, sending her off with a kiss to the bandage, a "be careful," and shoes he'd re-tied himself.
Clarke had just watched in slight awe at how he handled himself. He seemed comfortable in a way she didn't, it seemed. But then again, he'd grown up with a little sister; he knew how to act, what to say to calm tears, how to make them laugh.
And they all loved him for it, drawing him pictures, doing as he asked the first time (she had to repeat anything multiple times for the older kids to listen to her), even asking for him to push them on the swings.
So when the afternoon wore on and he called them inside from the door, Clarke watched from her back perch next to the play pen, minding the youngest ones, while the kids trickled in. They were smiling, flushed cheeks and bright faces practically glowing as they settled down on the carpet.
"I think it's about time to settle down," Bellamy said once everyone was seated, spread across the room. "Does anyone want to practice their reading?"
Clarke readjusted the little boy on her lap, the fussy one of the bunch who didn't want to go down for his nap. He was fighting a losing battle against sleep, cheek pressed against her shoulder.
The class quieted but no one jumped up or raised their hand.
Then a boy near the back sat up a little straighter. "Mr. Blake, will you tell us a story instead?"
Bellamy paused, already leaning over the single shelf of books with charcoal words and hand drawn pictures. After a moment, he nodded. "Is that what everyone wants?"
A chorus of enthusiastic yesses echoed through the class and a smile spread on his face as he settled into the chair, catching her eye and winking. "Well, I guess I know a few exciting stories you all will like."
The class scooted closer to his chair, leaning against his legs, looking up at him with wide, curious eyes.
One girl in a faded blue muslin smock, seemingly the youngest of the older group, tugged on his sleeve. "Mr. Blake?" she asked timidly.
"Yes, sweetheart?" he had to lean in to hear here.
She cupped a hand over her mouth as she whispered into his hear. The expression on his face shifted from sincere dedication to a softer smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
He nodded and Clarkes gut shifted on itself when he hoisted her up into his lap. The girl (no more than five, if that) settled on one of his thighs, leaning back into the crook of his sturdy arm. Clarke wasn't prepared for this, not Bellamy (gruff, not afraid to shoot anyone who so much as looked at his sister the wrong way Bellamy) with an army of children around him, on his lap, while he started to tell them a story of a princess who lived in the sky, and who wanted nothing more than to live on the ground.
As the last child drifted out with their mother that afternoon, the little girl who'd scraped her knee, she turned and waved with the hand her mother wasn't holding. "Bye Mr. Blake, bye Mrs. Blake!"
Clarke was already waving and would have choked on her breath if Bellamy hadn't been standing right next to her.
But he didn't seem to be phased by the fact that this little girl (and probably others) had thought that they were married. "Hah," he just chuckled and shook his head. "Kids."
Clarke wasn't able to shake herself of it as quickly as he was, though. The prospect lingered in her mind differently than it had before. Of course the thought had crossed her mind before. It was hard not to think about marriage from time to time when they were living together, sharing everything but a name.
But up until then, it was only in her head.
While they finished cleaning up, she thought about what it would be like to tidy up their own house, a real house, not just four walls and a bed.
While they walked to dinner, she wondered what it would be like to wear a ring on her finger, to be joined to someone-to Bellamy-for the rest of her life. Surely if there was anyone on Earth that she belonged with it was him. There was no one else, no doubts in her mind, nothing that she could think of that would stop them.
While she ate, Bellamy at her side as usual, Lincoln and Octavia across from them, she thought about having another mouth to feed, caring for another baby that was a part of both of them, theirs.
On the way back to their cabin, Bellamy slipped an arm around her waist. "You've been awfully quiet tonight."
Clarke pulled herself away from her thoughts, her arm wrapping around him over his jacket. "Just thinking."
He looked at the ground, then, and she could see the wry, sideways smile quirking his lips in the dim light. Damn him and his smiles. "Intriguing," he just said. "Are you gonna tell me what about?"
She could help but let his teasing get to her, a slow smile spreading on her lips. "Maybe. Maybe not."
"Ah the princess is stubborn tonight," he grinned and chuckled when she smacked him in the chest with her free hand. "Then again, when is she not?"
She stared up at him, one eyebrow raised. "I don't think you've mastered the concept of flattery." But as much as she joked about telling Bellamy what was on her mind, the thought was more than a little daunting. Hell, she was only a few months past twenty. Definitely not a kid, and as far away from a teenager as she could be.
"There's more than one way to get information out of you," he said with a wink, but she just rolled her eyes.
Suddenly he stopped on the dimly lit dirt path, stepping in front of her with a somber expression darkening his eyes.
"What are you-"
He took her face in his hands, palms holding her head up so he could meet her eyes. "Clarke, I can tell you've been thinking about the same thing all day," he said, voice low, close to gentle. Because how could she think she could hide anything from him?
A dark wave of hair fell over his eyes and she resisted the urge to stand on her toes and kiss him.
"Mrs. Blake?" she questioned in a cautious voice.
Her heart rose in her throat at the unreadable expression that hovered on his face as his eyes met hers. She wasn't frequently embarrassed in front of him anymore, but she could feel heat rising high on her cheeks.
After five seconds of holding her breath, he let out a light chuckle and leaned down to press his mouth to hers. "Does that bother you?" he murmured, lips against hers, fingers threading through her hair.
Her palms slid from his shoulder to his chest where his heart was pounding a quick and steady rhythm. "Clarke Blake sounds bad." She ignored the implications of what they were saying, of what it meant.
Bellamy's thumb stroked over her cheek. "I like it." He kissed the corner of her mouth. "I think it's perfect."
Four months later, as Clarke looked down at the antique gold ring shining on her finger, she knew it wasn't the name that made the life, but the man.