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Clarke trips up the staircase.
It's been a long day, to say the least. Her residency started two months ago, so she basically lives in an ever present state of exhaustion. It doesn't help that her roommate's idea of a sleep schedule is "be awake when Clarke is asleep and sleep when Clarke is awake". She loves Raven to death, but she doesn't want to hear rocket fuel being made at three in the morning. Especially when she has to get up at five thirty to scrub into surgery at seven. She’s especially tired today because the coffee maker broke this morning and she didn’t have time to pick up a cup.
By the time Clarke steps off the train at her metro stop, she's ready to sleep. Her plans for the evening consist of microwaveable mac and cheese and, ideally, a bath. (Raven might have taken the tub over for a project. She won't know until she gets home.) Clarke readjusts her bag over her shoulder, walks through the turnstile, and makes her way up the staircase. Only, she doesn't even make it up the first few steps before catching her foot and falling forward. And then she's laughing because she's half amused, half delirious, and there's a cute guy next to her.
The first thing she notices is his freckles. The second thing is the way his mouth is forming words she's not quite comprehending because she's still crouched on the staircase of her city's crappy metro station. He holds out a hand, and Clarke lifts her bag back into her shoulder as he helps her up.
"Are you alright?" he says. Now that she's slightly less confounded, she can see that he's a few inches taller than her, and probably about the same age. He's wearing a button down that sits really nicely on his shoulders. It makes her want to trip over this fucking staircase all over again. She gets kind of caught up in hiccuping and general gawking that he has to repeat the question.
"Oh," she laughs, "I'm fine, I'm fine. It's just been a long day." And he's goddamn smiling at her now, like he knows that she's got a thing for cute guys in button downs with freckles whose smiles are the brighter than the sun. He's got her making up sappy metaphors, for Christ's sake.
"That's good. I was worried you hit your head," he replies, as they make it to the sidewalk.
"Nope. The head's all good. It's just--" she stops her sentence short to fucking giggle again because, apparently, the combination of hot guy, exhaustion, and physical injury is lethal. That's what she's gotten out of this exchange.
"Been a long day," he smiles. (That goddamn smile). "You said that."
She needs to leave now. She's made enough of a fool of herself.
"Well," Clarke says, "thanks for the help!"
"Have a good day," he replies. Clarke looks at him one last time before walking off in the direction of her apartment. She has an appointment with her bathtub.
-
Raven turned the tub into a water-powered generator.
-
"What's got your panties in a twist?" Raven asks, later that night. They're sprawled out on the couch, with a bag of chips between them. 10 Things I Hate About You is on the TV, and Raven is taking apart their toaster ("It always burns the toast, Clarke. This is for the greater good.") while they watch Julia Stiles ignore Heath Ledger.
"Eh," Clarke replies. "It was kind of a crappy day. You know the coffee maker's broken, right?"
"Yeah. We can buy a new one. Wick and I are scrapping the old one for parts."
"What could you possibly need coffee machine parts for?" Clarke asks.
"Robots."
"Of course." She rolls over to glance at the TV. Julia Stiles is drunkenly dancing on the table now. Clarke wishes she was drunk.
Raven pokes Clarke's leg with her toe. "What else happened?"
"I was so tired getting off the metro that I tripped up the stairs. A really hot guy helped me up. He had freckles, Raven. And a button up. And freckles."
"Why are you angsty? You got to be cradled in hot dude's arms as he lifted you to safety," Raven snorts.
"There was no cradling or lifting. He literally offered me a hand, Raven."
"I love that you’re bi. Everyone is free game for taunting."
"Shut up and admire Heath Ledger with me. You're taking years off my life," Clarke grumbles.
-
Someone knocks on her door at four thirty in the morning. Clarke rolls out of bed and opens up to Raven, in her pajamas, with her laptop in her arms.
"I have another hour to sleep, at least. And why are you awake? Don't you have class for your master's program tomorrow morning?"
Raven brushes past Clarke and plops down on her bed. "I do. But I had other pressing matters to attend to."
Clarke lays down on her bed next to Raven, and peeks at the screen. "Why are you on Craigslist? What do you need on Craigslist?" she asks.
"Robot parts. We covered this, Clarke."
"How silly of me. Why did you wake me up at four thirty for robot parts?"
Raven huffs before clicking to a different Craigslist tab. "I'm not showing you robot parts, I'm showing you this ad some guy placed."
Girl at East 27th St metro station
You were a young woman (mid-twenties?) with scrubs on and a big tote bag. You tripped up the staircase and I helped you to the top while you laughed. I was too stupid to get your name, but I hope that you see this and contact me.
"Oh my god," Clarke says.
"Who's making fun of the robot parts now?" Raven smirks.
"I can't believe he placed a Craigslist ad."
"I'm emailing him for you."
"What? No!" Clarke reaches to pull the laptop out of Raven's grasp, but she rolls over before Clarke can do so.
"Then you have to email him."
"You suck," Clarke pouts.
"Look, I’ll even write it for you," Raven laughs, as she begins typing. Clarke leaves to go take a shower. She doesn't want to know what Raven's writing to Craigslist dude. She has a feeling it'll be vaguely embarrassing, and for Clarke, it's way too early in the morning to deal with that.
-
Clarke did not trip up the staircase today. Despite being woken up an hour early by Raven, she had enough energy to safely climb to the sidewalk. She also might have loitered a little by the top, waiting for the next train to come in. (Craigslist dude was on her train yesterday, so he might show up today. So what if she’s pathetic? He left a fucking Craigslist ad.)
A minute later, a deep voice speaks up from next to her. “Hi.”
Clarke turns and looks at him. Today he’s rolled up the sleeves on his button up, his curls are mussed, and his freckles are still doing it for her. She’s fucked. “Hi,” Clarke replies.
“I, uh, I don’t know if you remember me. From yesterday,” he says. He’s blushing. At least, she thinks he’s blushing. Clarke is definitely blushing.
“I do. You helped me up the staircase after I made a complete fool of myself by falling down and laughing about it for several minutes.”
He laughs now, and his face lights up like a little kid’s. (She’s fucked. Did you know that?) “No, no, it was cute.”
It’s Clarke’s turn to laugh now. “Thanks. Your concern for my head was pretty cute too.”
“Well, your head has your face on it, and your face is really pretty.”
“Oh my god,” she says, trying not to crack up, “you used a line on me!”
“I just--” he huffs, “I’m not good at this, okay? I placed a Craigslist ad to find you. That sounds a lot creepier when I say it out loud, actually.”
“Oh, I know about the ad. My roommate found it.”
“And you didn’t email me back? I’m wounded.”
They start walking now. They’re actually walking in the opposite direction of her apartment, but she likes him enough to detour. Sue her. “I was going to, actually. But I figured I could try to talk to you in person before replying on an online classified ad forum.”
“You’re making me sound pathetic,” he laughs.
“My goal in life,” she replies.
“I don’t, uh, I don’t think I told you my name or anything,” he says. “Bellamy. I’m getting my PhD in Classics at the University.”
“I’m Clarke. I just started my residency at the University hospital, actually,” she replies.
“That explains the scrubs. And the exhaustion.”
“A summary of me: scrubs and exhaustion.”
They’re outside a coffee shop now, and he still looks a little nervous, so Clarke decides to take the wheel.
“Want to grab coffee?” she asks, and Bellamy looks so relieved now that her heart swells.
“Sure,” he replies, and opens the door for her.
-
A week later, Raven knocks on her door at three in the morning. Clarke pries Bellamy’s arm off her waist before she gets out of bed. He makes a discontented noise before rolling onto his side. Clarke picks a t-shirt up off the floor to throw on before opening the door. (It might be Bellamy’s. They were a little… enthusiastic last night.)
Raven is dressed for the day-which, odd, but at least the bathtub isn’t a generator anymore-and begins talking as soon as the door is opened.
“So, I finished writing your email to Craigslist dude. I think it’s snarky, but sweet, out there, but still hard to get,” she says.
“You’re insane,” Clarke replies. She doesn’t even notice the rustling behind her.
“Maybe, but this email will get results. Guaranteed.”
“You know, I think I’m good, Raven.”
“What? I thought you liked-” Raven stops short, because Clarke is leaning back into a very shirtless Bellamy.
“Hi. I’m Bellamy,” he says, sticking out a hand for Raven to shake.
“Oh my god. You fucked Craigslist dude,” Raven says in disbelief.
Clarke glances up at Bellamy, who is now running his hands up her sides. “No, I’m dating Craigslist dude. Definitely dating,” she smiles. He’s smiling back at her, which is awesome, but he’s also really shirtless, so even though she loves talking to Raven in the middle of the night, she’s got her priorities straight. “Hey Raven, I’m just gonna close this, okay?” she says, slowly shutting the door.
Raven doesn’t even sound that upset about being shut out, because Clarke can hear her cackling, but she’s not embarrassed. In fact, as she slips the shirt over her head and flops down on the bed with Bellamy, Clarke’s really, really happy.
“I’m glad you tripped up the metro staircase,” he says in between kisses.
“I’m glad you tried to find me on fucking Craigslist,” she giggles.
“Shhhh,” he replies, his mouth drifting lower, as he pulls on her underwear.
And yeah, she’s glad she tripped up the staircase. Really, really glad.