Work Text
Christmas cookies, in Clarke Griffin’s house, had always been a twenty-four hour affair, taking place on Christmas Eve. It meant cocoa, blaring Christmas music, and a blisteringly hot kitchen. It meant a heaping sinkful of dishes, and every available counter space occupied by platters of cookies and other holiday treats.This year was the first time that Clarke would be celebrating Christmas without her mom; Abbie had decided to spend Christmas with Marcus out in the tropics for a holiday basking in the sunshine. When Abbie had asked her if she would be all right spending Christmas without her, Clarke had reminded her that she was an adult and that she would be able to handle it on her own. So she had. Every bit of tinsel and lights strung throughout her apartment, every sprig of holly or precisely arranged Manger she had done on her own. Even the Mistletoe, dangling in the doorway, she had nailed in herself – she had a bandage on her left hand to prove it.It was only the morning of Christmas Eve, right before the storm of cookie making, that it struck Clarke – this was the first Christmas she would ever have without either of her parents there. Tears had prickled. “No,” She told herself. She snatched her phone from the bedside table, and dialed Raven’s number. “Raven,” She said as soon as her friend answered, “I need an army.”Raven groaned. “What time is it, Clarke? Four?” “It’s better if you don’t look,” Clarke replied hastily. She waited while Raven grumbled under her breath for a few more minutes, and then Raven said, “What do you need an army for?” “Baking. I have a trillion cookies to make and this is the first year that I’m doing them alone, and I’m feeling a little lost. I think I need a technical brain on my side.”She felt Raven’s smile through the phone. “Ugh, what would you do without me?” “Cry?” Clarke offered. “Fine,” Raven said, after a moment, “I’ll see who I can assemble. I know I can recruit Wick. Right, honey?” There was a thump in the background. Clarke winced. “Try not to injure my recruits, okay, Raven? I need the manual labor. See you as soon as I can.” She ended the call before Raven could retort. The momentary panic that had blinded her eased away, like a flower unfurling in her chest. Now she could breathe again. She knew it would only be a matter of time before Raven arrived with the hordes: she needed to get ready.Scrambling out of her bedroom, she showered faster than she ever had in her entire life and dressed in her cooking clothes – an ugly sweater and leggings – and braided her hair back in a bun at the top of her head.She wondered who else Raven would be able to recruit. It was Christmas Eve. Was it wrong to have asked? They probably wanted to spend time with their families. Her chest tightened again and she flattened a hand against it. “Go prep the kitchen,” She told herself.As she swung past the front door, someone knocked. She skidded to a stop and blinked at it. There was no way that Raven had already arrived – she had been quick, hadn’t she? Clarke wrenched the door open. “Hello? Oh! Bellamy.” Clarke’s hand twitched against the door. She nearly slammed it shut in his face, her face electric with heat. She pressed her fingers into her cheek, trying to cool down her blush. It was his number that her thumb had hovered over before she had decided to call Raven. It was his family that she had told herself he would be busy celebrating the holiday with. But when she tentatively opened the door further, she spotted Octavia behind him, clutching a pot overflowing with cooking supplies. Clarke couldn’t help but grin at her. Bellamy’s younger sister insisted on showing him at every opportunity that she could handle herself. Which occasionally meant carrying more items than her arms could hold. “Clarke,” Octavia grunted. “Kitchen?”Clarke laughed, stepping out of her way while Octavia beelined for the kitchen. Something clattered before she could reach it. Clarke winced in sympathy before turning back to Bellamy. Now that she had recovered her surprise (partially at any rate, because stars, Bellamy Blake was standing her doorway) she noticed what he was wearing.Her mouth twisted, and Bellamy gave her a look. “Don’t, Clarke,” He said, his own mouth twitching.She erupted laughing, dropping down on her knees, and then folding over against the floor, and then she was rolling until Bellamy grabbed her by the elbow and hauled her back to her feet. “Aren’t you exaggerating, just a little bit, Princess?” He said. “You should see what you’re wearing.”Clarke shook her head. “This,” she said, grabbing the hem of her shirt, “Might be ugly, but that – that is a masterpiece from the heavens. Please tell me you made that.” “I didn’t,” He said, stiffly, but his eyes darted aside and she totally knew he had. Her smile broadened. “Well,” she continued, wiping the tears from her eyes, “I love it.”Bellamy rolled his eyes. “Am I allowed to come in now, Clarke, or are you going to laugh at me for a few more hours?” “Oh my dear Bellamy Blake,” She grinned maliciously at him, “I’m going to be laughing at you all day.” “Funny.” He started to duck beneath the doorway when he noticed the mistletoe dangling there. Slowly, his gaze drifted back down to her, and she melted a little at the molten look in his eyes, as if he could swallow her whole. He licked his lips. “Clarke?” He was smirking; that was a definite smirk, and Clarke wished that she hadn’t laughed at him quite so hard.Before he could say another word, her phone buzzed in her sweater pocket and she muttered an excuse about thinking it might be Raven as she turned away. She heard him close the door behind her. That had been too close – more so than she dared. This was Christmas, he was one of her best friends, she couldn’t be this selfish, she could not ask that of him when he had always been there for her, what sort of person would that make her. “Yes?” Clarke said breathlessly into the phone. She turned to glance over her shoulder, and she saw Bellamy curiously eyeing the mistletoe. Then, as if pulled by her stare, his eyes flicked in her direction and the corner of his mouth quirked. She pivoted away from him again. “What’s the matter? Why do you sound like you just got hit by a truck?” Raven asked. “No reason. Oh, Raven, what did you do, build rocket boots for the Blakes? They’re already here.” “Princess, where do you want me?” Bellamy’s voice scraped through her, sending sparks from the ends of her nerves. She had the distinct feeling of being unstrung. He stood so close she felt the heat radiating from his body, could feel the crackle of tension between them. “Under the tree,” She said, before she could help herself; he had set himself up for that. She darted a glance at him and found him alarmingly close; their noses brushed against each other. “Clarke? Was that Bellamy? I just called to tell you that I got them – the whole crew is coming to help. Clarke? Clarke, what are you doing?” “Um,” Clarke said, staring at Bellamy’s lips. He had such a beautiful mouth, with a full lower lip and the most delicious dip in his upper lip. She had the strangest urge to lick it. “You’re staring,” Bellamy whispered.I want you, she opened her mouth to say when the front door crashed inward and the rest of the crew burst in, bags crinkling, singing carols, howling about the bitter cold outside and how amazing Clarke’s apartment smelled.She reached out to trace a finger down Bellamy’s hand, in a promise. They would explore whatever this was. But right now, it was Christmas Eve, and they needed to make some cookies. “Come into the kitchen, everyone,” Clarke sang, as she moved past Bellamy to lead the way into the kitchen. He swept in after her, and with all of her friends clustered around her, Clarke didn’t feel lonely anymore.