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"So I've been thinking," says Bellamy, resting his arms on the wall next to her and looking out over the forest. He always comes up with some excuse to come over during Clarke's hour of daily guard duty, and she'd tell him he doesn't need one, that she doesn't mind his company, but it's always amusing, hearing what crisis he's come up with to justify visiting her. He looks serious today, so she's thinking it's either food or defense.
"About what?" she prompts.
"Expansion."
She makes a face. "Expansion? No way. We have plenty of room, and we have better things to do with our lumber than build walls we don't need."
He huffs, like she's the one being unreasonable here. "Not that kind of expansion. Population expansion."
"Population expansion?"
"We need to start reproducing," he says flatly. "We've lost a lot of people, but we're stable now, and we need to start making a society that's going to survive beyond us. That means reproducing."
Clarke chokes on nothing. "Reproducing?" At some point in this conversation, she'll stop just repeating whatever he says. She hopes. If he stops saying bizarre things.
"We should have a kid," he says, still not looking at her. "To set an example for everyone."
"You want us to have a kid." Maybe he hit his head last time he was out hunting and no one told her. Maybe he has a concussion.
He crosses his arms, looking down at her. "You have a better idea?"
She has no idea what kind of stupid game Bellamy is playing, but she's pretty sure she can play it better than he can. "Yeah, actually. You're right about the reproduction, but I think Lincoln and Octavia would be better to get it started." She's going to have to draw his horrified expression later; it's about the most perfect thing she's ever seen. "I know Octavia has some herbs she's been taking to make sure she doesn't get pregnant--"
"She has what?"
"But I'll tell her that you think we should be starting to have kids, see if they're ready. Maybe they're already thinking about it."
"Clarke--"
"They'd be a better example anyway. We could use some diversity in the gene pool." She gives him a sunny smile. "You're going to be a great uncle, Bellamy."
He looks a little green; Clarke considers it a job well done.
*
He finds her at dinner that night and presents her with a bowl full of blackberries, raspberries, and strawberries. He must have either spent all afternoon searching or paid someone to get that much variety. "O said I owed you an apology," he says, when she doesn't take it. "Sorry."
She smiles and puts the bowl down between them, grabbing a couple berries for herself. "It's fine," she says. "Your heart was in the right place."
"Yeah?" he asks, taking one of the blackberries when she nudges the bowl closer to him.
"You didn't think it through, but I don't think you're wrong. This is our home now. We should be planning for the future." She flashes him a smile. "But--I'm not sure there's a good way to encourage people to have kids. It'll happen when it happens. When people feel safe."
"Yeah," he says again, with a tired smile. "I didn't think it through. That's it."
*
"Up and at 'em, Princess," he says the next morning, throwing something on her face. It's barely dawn, and Clarke groans and rolls over. Locks are definitely the next item on her list of village improvements.
"Bellamy, what?"
"We have to check out that bunker the scouting party found the other day, remember? See what we can get out if it. Get dressed."
She picks up the thing on her face--a jacket--and glares at him. "We have to go now? The sun isn't even up."
His expression is way, way too cheerful for this early. "Wanna make sure we've got enough time. Put that on, it's chilly."
"You know I'm naked, right?"
He stares, like maybe he thinks he can see through her blankets if he tries hard enough. "You sleep naked?"
"Get out, seriously. I'll meet you in ten."
He's bouncing on the balls of his feet by the gate, looking weirdly nervous, when she rushes over exactly nine minutes later. He has one of the big packs, and it's full, which seems stupid, given they're supposed to be picking stuff up.
"What are you bringing?" she asks.
"We're going to be gone for a while," he says. "It's lunch." He tosses her one of Monty's breakfast bars. "To tide you over."
She rubs her face. "How are you so awake?"
"Just happy I've got something to do," he says, like he's sad they aren't in the middle of a war anymore.
"You're a weird guy, Bellamy Blake."
He just grins.
They eat lunch by a stream; Bellamy even brought a blanket for them to sit on.
"This is kind of nice," she admits. It's been a while since she had a day out of the village, and it's nice to just sit with him, feeling the sun on her face and not worrying about what to build next.
"Thought you might like it," he says, almost bashful, and she throws a handful of grass at him.
*
The next day, he drops a flower on her head.
"What?"
"What?" he retorts, and wanders off without further comment.
She spends an hour looking for a container they aren't using so she can put it in water. It's a daffodil. It's pretty.
*
Lincoln and Octavia are actually thinking about children, which Clarke would feel bad about, except that Bellamy's been acting so weird that she has absolutely no guilt about anything involving him right now. It serves him right. Besides, he wasn't wrong, in general, and he would be a good uncle.
"You really think it's safe?" Octavia asks.
Clarke shrugs. "As safe as it's ever going to be." She clucks her tongue. "Does your brother think something's going to happen?"
Octavia gives her a strange look. "Like what?"
"I don't know. He's been acting really weird since the whole babies thing. Is he worried we're going to get attacked again? Because if he is, I don't think babies are going to help."
"He's just being an idiot."
"That's not new."
"Just--give him a break," she says, which wasn't what Clarke was expecting. "He'll sort himself out."
"He better," she mutters, and ignores Octavia's knowing smile.
*
It's Harper's birthday, and even the adults have agreed that birthdays are as good an excuse as any to go all-out. Monty and Jasper have brewed some very special (and terrifying) hooch, Clarke made a couple decks of playing cards, and Raven and Wick hooked up a sound system. It's definitely the best party they've had since they hit the ground.
Clarke's playing darts with Raven and Miller when Bellamy finds her. Last time she saw him, he was cleaning up at poker, so she's surprised when he leans in close and says, "Dance with me," like he doesn't want anyone to hear.
She frowns, looking back at him, but he's serious and straight-faced, so she figures it must be important. Knowing him, he's probably found some emergency that has to be dealt with immediately and doesn't want to spook anyone else. For all he tells her she's no fun, he's not the best at taking it easy these days either. "Sure," she says. "Go on without me," she tells Raven and Miller, and pretends not to notice when they smirk at each other. "What's wrong?" she asks Bellamy, following him to the makeshift dance floor.
"Nothing's wrong," he says, looking over his shoulder. "Why would something be wrong?"
"I thought you wanted to talk," she says.
"I wanted to dance," he says, settling his hands low on her hips. "Like I said."
Clarke puts her arms around his neck slowly. She hasn't danced since the last Unity Day Masquerade on the Ark, and that was more of a group thing. Her skin tingles everywhere she's touching Bellamy, even through the fabric of their clothes, and she doesn't know where to look or how to act. All they're doing is moving in a slow circle and she's still worried she's going to step on his feet. She has no idea why he thought this was a good idea.
"Relax," he says, sounding amused. His voice is close to her ear, his breath on her neck, and she feels too big for her skin all at once.
"I can relax," she says, looking up at him, defiant. It's a mistake; he's all cocky smile and dark eyes, totally focused on her, and she can't breathe for a second. She doesn't know how to deal with Bellamy Blake looking at her like that.
"Sure you can," he teases, reaching up to push a lock of her hair back. For a long second, she thinks he's going to kiss her, or she's going to kiss him.
But the song ends and he lets her go. "Thanks for the dance," he says, waving over his shoulder as he walks away.
She doesn't feel like herself again for an hour.
*
It's a week after that first weird conversation, and Clarke is back on patrol. Bellamy shows up with a new sketchbook for her.
"Here," he says.
"Thanks," she says, flipping through the pages in wonder. Lincoln's been teaching him how to bind books, but she didn't know he'd gotten this good at it. He's written For Clarke, from B on the front page in a sure, firm script. It's the first time she's seen his handwriting, and it feels like discovering a new part of him. She looks up at him, stunned. "What's this for?"
He rubs the back of his neck. "O says I have to make a move at some point. She thinks I'm being too subtle. I've never really done this before."
Clarke looks back down at the sketchbook,tracing the cover with her fingertips. "I remember you doing a lot when we first got here."
"That was different."
She feels a smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, you didn't want to repopulate the Earth with them."
He groans, but he's smiling too, in spite of himself. "Yeah, well."
"You could have just said," she says.
He raises his eyebrows. "I tried that, remember?" he says, and her breath catches. She thought the whole kids thing was just his weird sense of humor, not a serious suggestion.
It should be too much, but it's the easiest thing in the world to pull him down for a kiss. He tastes the way freshly tilled soil smells, crisp and fresh and dark, and it probably shouldn't be a surprise that kissing Bellamy Blake feels like the best parts of being on the Earth. His hands come back up to her hips, like when they were dancing, but this time he pulls her flush against him. It still doesn't feel like enough.
They only break apart when she hears cheering and wolf-whistles. Bellamy's grinning even as he tells their audience to shut up, and if she'd known earlier kissing him would put that look on his face, she wouldn't have waited so long.
"It still works if I make a move, right?" she asks when he looks back down at her.
He laughs and squeezes her hand. "Yeah, that works. You're done with your watch, right?"
Technically she has another ten minutes on duty, but Monroe was definitely whistling with the rest of them, so Clarke doesn't feel even a little bit guilty. And then Monroe gives her a thumbs up, so there's no way she's staying.
"I can be done."
There's more jeering when Bellamy follows her into her cabin, but he spots the daffodil on her desk and looks so pleased that she doesn't really care what anyone else is thinking.
"You kept it," he says, going over to her desk to look at it. He looks years younger, all boyish excitement.
"It's pretty," she says, defensive, but she remembers there's no reason to be. "And you gave it to me."
Bellamy might not be the only one who's bad at this. But they're getting better.
*
Eleven months later, Octavia has the first baby born to the Sky People since they came down to Earth, a little girl she names Aurora. Clarke doesn't have to help with the actual birth--Abby and Lincoln have that covered--so she's on Bellamy duty, which mostly involves holding his hand and telling him Octavia's going to be fine whenever she makes any noise. Her hand is white and sore by the end, but it's worth it for the look on his face when he meets the baby.
As she predicted, he's a great uncle.
"I think she looks like me," he says, bouncing his niece on his knee a few months later. She gurgles and laughs, and Clarke smiles.
"I think she takes after her parents."
"You would." He looks at her through his lashes. "We could still have one of these, you know."
There are four pregnancies in the village that Clarke knows about, including her own mother's. It's kind of terrifying, but if the worst thing she has to deal with is the weirdness of becoming a big sister, she's doing pretty well. "They seem to have gotten the idea. I don't think they need anyone to set an example," she says.
He keeps on watching her, steady. "I don't think they do either."
It takes her a second to realize what he's saying, and then she flushes. "See, that's how you ask a girl to have your baby," she says, making her voice light.
His grin is slow and perfect, and it's still about her favorite thing in the world. "I knew I'd get it right sooner or later."