[identity profile] mollivanders.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] prefer_my_life
Title: drinking with friends
Fandom: The 100
Rating: PG
Characters: Clarke/Bellamy, Raven/Clarke, Octavia
Author's Note: Word Count – 1,722. I have three papers due in the next five days, but I wrote this instead.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to the CW.

It was hard enough to keep track of time in solitary – here on the ground, it’s near impossible. It doesn’t matter so much what day of the week it is as whether they have food, and shelter, and water, and whether or not the greater threat is from the Grounders or from each other.

So Clarke completely misses her eighteenth birthday.

She knows it must have happened; is sure that more than a month has passed since they’ve crashed. Without a calendar though, it’s hard to tell.

Besides, it’s not like there’s anybody down here to celebrate with.

(Not Finn, that’s for sure, she tells herself. Forcefully.)

Not like there’s anybody who knows.

(Tries not to think about Wells, buried in the soft ground.)

But one night she’s on patrol and spots Raven coming towards her with a thermos and two cups, a fiendish grin lighting up her features.

“Hey princess,” Raven says, sitting on the ground next to Clarke’s feet and patting the ground next to her. “Pull up a seat.”

“I’m on patrol,” Clarke says, but sits anyway, her back to the fence. “Grounders and all.”

“Relax,” Raven says, pouring them each a cup of what smells very strongly of Monty’s all-purpose still. “Talked to Bellamy and he’s taking your shift. Says to wish you a happy birthday.”

Clarke raises an eyebrow and clinks her glass against Raven’s before drinking deep. “It can’t be my birthday,” she protests. “It must have been weeks.”

“Well, yeah,” Raven admits. “But your mom thought you might have lost track of time. Said this was too important a day to miss.” She winks. “You’re Majority now,” she teases and Clarke snorts. “Princess Majority,” she says, rolling the words around in her mouth. “Majority Princess. Somehow, I don’t think that’ll impress anyone around here.”

“It’s still important,” Raven says, shrugging her shoulders. “Mine’s not for another six months.” She pauses.  “I think. Make sure to throw me a big party.”

Clarke nods, a promise, before filling both their cups up again. “You want streamers with that?” she asks. “A big cake with a clown?”

“Oh hell no,” Raven shudders. “No clowns.”

“Alright then,” Clarke says. “No clowns. But a big party, with costumes! And line dancers!” Raven is giggling and Clarke’s pretty sure she’s not that funny – fun? – before she falls to her side with infectious laughter. “Oh Monty,” she breathes into the night air, her breath fogging up above her. “Bless you and your magical powers of alcohol. May you live long and prosper.”


The uneasy truce established with the Grounders led, unsurprisingly, to drunken revelry. Clarke could hardly blame her own people for finding an excuse to kick back and relax but the cost – but Finn –

So she finds herself at Raven’s Gate, drinking alone, when a familiar shape drops down next to her with an exhausted sigh.

“Long day,” Bellamy sighs, tipping his own drink back. She steals a look at him and finds him staring up at the stars. At home.

She hasn’t been able to speak since it happened this afternoon, and knows that she’s probably in shock. She also knows she’s dealt with a lot of shit lately and this is probably more than just personal – it’s the capstone to all the suffering she’s witnessed in a few short weeks. Taking the easy way out, she nods mutely and leans back against the rubble of the Ark, shutting her eyes.

“You can’t blame yourself,” he says, filling the silence between them after a few minutes. “He made his own choices.”

The words burst out of her, almost without a thought.  “If you say it had to be done, I swear – ”

“Hey,” he interrupts, shifting closer to look her in the eye. “It’s not your fault.”

“Bellamy,” she stutters, gripping her forgotten drink so tightly she feels the metal bend under her hand.

“It’s not your fault,” he repeats. “It’s not.” He’s so close she can sense every line of his body near hers and maybe – maybe it’s the capstone to all her suffering and she shouldn’t be so hard on herself – she breaks down crying, wordless in her trauma. Curled up on herself, she feels Bellamy hushing her softly as he wraps her in a hug, and she lets herself cling to him, crying into his shirt. Distantly, she hears him.

It’s not your fault.

Later, when she’s quieted, he shifts away and takes a long drink from his cup. “I think maybe we’ve had enough of this tonight,” he says quietly, and she studies his face carefully.

“Hey,” she whispers, her voice croaky from tears, “it’s not your fault either.”

His shoulders drop almost imperceptibly, and she reaches out to cover his hand with her own.

“Yeah,” he sighs, and leans back, tilting his head back up to the stars. “I guess not.”


Clarke never, ever thought she’d see the day that Bellamy Blake would be drinking with Grounders but – well, a wedding is a special occasion.

“Weird, huh?” Raven says next to her, pointing to Bellamy’s drunken dance with a pretty Grounder girl. It sends a lance of emotion through her that Clarke studiously ignores by taking a long drink of the wine rescued from Mount Weather.

“So weird,” she says instead. The first marriage between a Grounder and one of their own was a landmark occasion and solidified the strength of the treaty between their peoples.

It was also an occasion where everyone was really drunk, include the bride and groom. Clarke watched with a smile as Octavia swung Lincoln around the makeshift dance floor, teaching him how to waltz. “Actually, really weird,” Clarke echoes and looks at Raven. “Are we supposed to be grown ups now?”

Raven snorts and drags Clarke onto the dance floor. “Don’t you even start,” she barks and swings Clarke around in circles until she’s dizzy and out of breath, laughing as they fall. “I think you should go rescue Bellamy,” she protests as Raven tries to pull her up. “From something he’ll regret in the morning.”

“I’m pretty sure that boy has no regrets,” Raven says, watching as Bellamy tries to perform some twisted jig step. “I’m sure we all do,” Clarke reasons and throws her hands up as Raven rolls her eyes at her. “No, Clarke. None of that serious nonsense tonight. Time to dance!”

“Fine, fine,” Clarke says, grabbing Raven’s hand to pull herself up. “But only if you let me teach you a proper dance.”

When Raven is finally exhausted from swing dancing (she protests sleepiness, but Clarke still notices the way her leg drags), Clarke finds herself at the same table with Octavia, flowers in her hair.

“Giving Lincoln a break?” Clarke asks and Octavia grins. “I’ll take care of him later,” she says, making Clarke blush despite herself and sending Octavia into giggles. “I’m really happy for you,” Clarke says when she’s recovered herself. “It’s good to see you happy.”

“Oh Clarke,” Octavia says, and plucks her flower crown from her head, setting it alight on Clarke’s. “Always so serious.” She stretches, taking a long drink of – whatever the Grounders have brought – before adding, “just like my brother.”

Clarke actually does laugh then. “Did you see him on the dance floor earlier?”

“If only we still had cameras,” Octavia says wistfully.

“I think you’ll remember this day in detail no matter,” Clarke says, and Octavia shakes her glass at Clarke. “Make sure I do.”

Clarke is cut off from responding by a Grounder Elder whooping and raising attention to her and Octavia.

“The bride and groom have passed on their crowns,” Lexa announces, translating for the Sky People, and Clarke’s heart drops to her stomach when she sees that Lincoln’s thorn crown now rests on Bellamy’s head. The realization hits him at the same time and she’s sure the red blush across his face is matched by her own – and not all due to the alcohol.

“Oh no,” Octavia says, grinning completely unconvincingly, and Clarke is sure that this was planned and that violates some rule or – or something – and –

“It’s tradition,” Lincoln says as she’s pushed onto the dance floor. “A very important tradition.”

She doesn’t believe him for one second, but she and Bellamy have dealt with worse. Catching his eye for a split second, she takes his offered hand and a deep breath.

For tradition.


She wakes early, the young winter sun bleeding through their tent, to a rush of coldness.

“Bellamy!” she chides, tugging the covers back against the winter chill, and he chuckles, tying his boots at the end of the bed. “Sorry,” he says, completely unapologetic. “Covers must have shifted when I sat down.”

“Right. Sure,” she retorts, sitting up and wrapping the thick wolf blanket around her. He’d killed it last fall, before they’d actually started sharing a tent. Even now, it still smelled more like Bellamy than the wolf.

“So early?” she asks, watching him dress.

“The animals are up this early,” he replies. “We go where the animals are.”

It’s strange to think how much he’s changed – how much she’s changed since they first came down to the ground. Life isn’t easy, by any measure, but they’ve moved past the live-or-die mentality that pervaded their every thought in those early days.

It’s a swelling relief, when she thinks about it.

Right now, she has other things on her mind.

“Hey,” she says, tugging at his hand before he can escape. “You’re going to be gone all day?” she asks and he nods. “If the game is good,” he says and she nods with understanding. “Well,” she finishes, “the least you can do is warm me up before you go.” A battle of arched eyebrows ensues for a moment before she tugs the wolf blanket around her tighter. “After all the mess you made, surely a few minutes wouldn’t hurt.”

He glances at the tent flap but she can tell he’s not really going anymore – not just yet.

“True,” he concedes. “Nobody else will be ready for another ten minutes.”

“At least,” she agrees, scooting further back on the bed as he kicks his troublesome boots off.

“Lazy bastards,” he says, grinning before he kisses her, a soft kiss for the soft morning.

(Both she and the morning reply with a stronger claim.)


Date: 2014-12-13 05:17 pm (UTC)
ext_317107: (100; clarke/raven; wish upon a star)
From: [identity profile] stainofmylove.livejournal.com
ACK I REALLY ENJOYED THIS! Clarke and Raven celebrating, Raven telling her Bellamy wishes her a happy birthday, jfc. You captured the characters and the tone of the series but still managed to create something that let them chill a little bit, to joke and even have a little (gasp!) fun. So happy to see you FINALLY writing for this fandom ;)


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