Chapter Text
“Come on, Clarke, please?”
Clarke rolled over in her bed to face the ceiling, knees lolling to one side. “I don’t know, Wells. I have a biochemistry exam coming up, and I’m not even done making flashcards.”
Wells sighed into the phone, his breath crackling in her ear. “Bellamy’s band is playing, and you want to support him, right?”
He was wheedling now, and Clarke rolled her eyes. “Yes, I want to support my friends. I’m not heartless, just busy.”
“Just for a little bit?”
It was Clarke’s turn to sigh. “We have to be back by eleven.”
She could almost hear him grinning on the other end of the line. “Awesome. I’ll swing by your place and pick you up.”
Wells rang her doorbell at nine o’clock on the dot, and Clarke gave herself one last glance-over in the mirror before going to meet him.
“Hey.” He grinned. “What, no fancy ‘going out’ digs?”
“You’re kidding yourself if you think I have anything nicer than ‘business casual’ for presenting at conferences,” Clarke retorted. Wells rolled his eyes but offered his arm like a proper gentleman to walk her to his car.
The bar was a little hole-in-the-wall place called Apford’s with a hand-written flyer tacked to the door to advertise the night’s music events. Bellamy’s band was going last, which Wells assured Clarke meant that they were the best.
“I’ve never seen him play,” she said, taking her ID back from the bouncer and following Wells inside. “Are they really that good?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t seen them since they got their new drummer.”
Clarke frowned. “I thought Raven played drums.”
“She does, but she’s taking some time off to focus on the technical aspects of the shows. And also apply to grad school.”
“Ah.” Clarke and Wells settled themselves on a pair of barstools with a clear view of the stage. The band before Bellamy’s was playing their last song of the night, and Clarke tapped her foot against the underside of the bar in time to their baseline.
“Are you drinking tonight?” Wells asked, raising his voice over the music. Clarke paused, then waggled her hand in a “maybe” gesture.
“We’ll see how bad Bellamy is,” she quipped, and ordered a tonic with lime.
The band finished, and Clarke applauded politely as they waved to the (relatively small) crowd and began to gather their gear. Their guitarist was still on stage winding up his cords when Raven popped up, seemingly from whatever passed as backstage in this bar, and began to shoo him off. Clarke smiled.
“How is Raven? I didn’t get to see her this summer.”
“Did you see anyone this summer?” Wells teased, and Clarke stuck her tongue out at him.
“I had an internship.”
“Yeah, well I was just bumming around Arkadia, and Raven’s fine.” Wells took a swig from his beer. “She’s dating some guy now, I think? Another dude in the engineering program.”
“Is he here tonight?” Clarke scanned the crowd, looking for someone the appropriate mix of nerdy and suave to meet her oldest friend’s expectations.
Wells followed her gaze. “I don’t think so. Octavia said he’s hot though, in a geeky kind of way.”
Clarke laughed. “He’d have to be. Raven’s picky.” She drew her finger around the rim of her glass. “And Octavia is doing well?”
“Mmhm. She and Lincoln went abroad this summer, maybe to Italy? You’ll have to ask her.”
Clarke shook her head. “I didn’t really see the two of them together at first, but I’m glad they’re happy. I’m glad she’s happy. And I guess Bellamy’s gotten off her back?”
Wells shrugged. “As much as he ever will. He let Lincoln in the band, at least.” He set his beer back onto the bar with a clink, his gaze back on the stage. “And speak of the devil.”
Bellamy was discussing something with Raven, his electric guitar slung across his shoulder with all the casual grace of a rockstar, and as he looked their way Clarke and Wells raised their hands in a wave. He grinned and waved back.
“See? I told you you should come tonight.”
“Smugness doesn’t become you,” Clarke said lightly. “Hush, it looks like they’re starting.”
Octavia had joined her brother on the stage now, waving at the crowd cheerily as she took her place behind the lead microphone. Bellamy and Lincoln stood off the side, messing with the tuning pegs on their guitars, and Clarke saw a final figure make her way to the stage.
“Is that their new drummer?” She asked Wells.
He nodded. “Yeah. Her name is Alexa, I think Bellamy said.”
Alexa settled herself behind the drums, and Clarke swallowed. The girl was really, really attractive, with an olive complexion and long brown hair tied back in a series of intricate-looking braids. Her eye makeup was dramatic enough to be seen clearly from the audience, and Clarke could see a tattoo snaking up her right bicep. Her very toned right bicep.
Wells didn’t seem to notice her preoccupation and clapped with the rest of the audience as Bellamy stepped up to a microphone positioned to Octavia’s left. “Hey everyone,” he greeted the crowd. “We are Ground Control, and we’re really excited to be closing out the show tonight.
“My name is Bellamy Blake, and here with me on bass guitar is Lincoln Stone.” Scattered applause from the audience. “On lead vocals is my sister, Octavia Blake.” Octavia gave a little bow, grinning all the while. “And tonight is our first show with a new drummer, so please give a warm welcome to Miss Alexa Woods.” Alexa twirled a drumstick in one hand, but her expression remained neutral.
“Thanks everyone. Once again, we are Ground Control!” Bellamy stepped back from the mic, and Lincoln began a deep bass riff that Clarke felt thrumming through her chest. She shivered and took a sip of her drink.
The bass built, and Bellamy jumped in with a quick series of chords before Octavia began the opening lyrics of what Clarke recognized as Paramore’s “That’s What You Get.” The audience had begun to shift towards the stage once Ground Control had begun to get set up, and as the floor got more and more packed Clarke was glad that she and Wells had grabbed seats at the bar.
“They’re really good!” She yelled to him, trying to pitch her voice over the music, and he grinned at her.
“Bellamy in particular, huh?” Wells yelled back, and Clarke kicked him none-too-gently in the shins.
“You know I don’t like him like that.” She made a face. “Plus, we work so much better as friends — I think one of us would murder the other if we tried to date.”
“Right, right.” Wells glanced around them, sizing up the crowd. “We’ll find you a cute girl then.”
Clarke rolled her eyes but didn’t protest, and she let her gaze drift back to the stage, where Octavia was crooning into the microphone like she was trying to make out with it. Lincoln and Bellamy were focused on their respective guitar parts, and Clarke could see sweat beginning to glisten on their brows. Lincoln was attractive, she had to admit, letting her eyes linger on his arms.
And speaking of attractive…she glanced back to Alexa and felt her breath catch in her throat. Clarke knew next to nothing about music, but she knew talent when she saw it. Alexa wielded her drumsticks like swords with a fierce grace and intensity as she fabricated an intricate-sounding beat. She too was sweating with exertion, her muscular arms laid bare by a dark, clinging tank top that left little to the imagination.
Clarke licked her suddenly dry lips and raised a hand to call the bartender over. She needed something stronger.
Ground Control’s set was about forty minutes long, with a few breaks here and there for the musicians to wipe their faces and grab water. They closed out the evening with an original, and Raven surprised Clarke by coming out to take her old spot at the drums. Even more interesting, Alexa disappeared off stage for a moment and reappeared with an electric guitar, where she joined Bellamy and Lincoln.
Wells finally noticed the object of Clarke’s attention, and he smirked. “She’s pretty hot,” he agreed out loud, and Clarke - two drinks in - let her head drop to her hands with a sigh.
“So hot,” she moaned, as Alexa threw her head back, braids loose and wild, and laid down an incendiary riff.
“We’re going to stay to hang out with everyone, right?” Wells asked casually, trying to slip it by her, and Clarke’s head snapped back up.
“Wells, I told you, I can’t stay out too late.”
He checked his watch. “It’s only…10:30 now, and you wanted to leave by eleven, so…”
“I wanted to be back by eleven,” Clarke corrected, biting her lip. She had plans to wake up early and get some more flashcards done before her 9am lecture, and there was no way that was going to happen if she was out until the wee hours of the morning.
Ground Control finished their song to enthusiastic cheers and applause from the audience, and Bellamy took the mic to thank everyone for coming. With the live music over for the evening, the crowd shifted back towards the bar, and Clarke began to get claustrophobic.
“Let’s go find them,” she said, dodging a badly-placed elbow from an intoxicated patron. Wells helped extract her from the throng of booze-seeking customers and led her back towards the stage, where Raven was arguing with one of the bar’s tech guys.
“Amateurs,” she snapped, finishing her tirade with a flourish. Her expression brightened immediately when she caught sight of Wells and Clarke.
“Hey, you made it!” She crowed, throwing her arms around Clarke’s neck. Clarke staggered back a step, laughing.
“I had to drag her,” Wells put in, and Raven released Clarke to give him a hug too.
“The show was great,” Clarke said, shooting Wells a brief glare. “I hadn’t heard any of your originals before.”
“Yeah, I miss banging on the ol’ drums,” Raven said, miming tapping a high-hat. “But I think we still sounded pretty awesome. The new girl wasn’t half bad either.”
Clarke’s heart sped up, and Wells asked, “Is she a friend of Bellamy’s?”
“Lincoln’s, he knew her from home.”
The aforementioned boys reappeared from the small backstage, and Clarke went to go hug Bellamy.
“Ew, you’re sweaty,” she said, making a face.
“Good to see you too, Princess,” he teased. “How’d you like the show?”
“I’m glad Wells made me come, you can say ‘I told you so’.” She rolled her eyes.
“Clarke!” Octavia squealed, and Clarke prepared herself for another tackle as the younger girl launched herself from the stage.
“Hey, you sounded so good!” Clarke said around mouthfuls of Octavia’s hair. She had started wearing it long and tousled, and while it was good for her rockstar look, it was less productive for hugging.
“You think so? I felt a little pitchy on ‘Heartbreaker,’ but Lincoln said it sounded fine. Although he always says that, so.” Octavia smirked.
Clarke looked over to see the final member of the band hovering to the side, hands shoved in her pockets. Alexa looked up and awkwardly met Clarke’s gaze, then glanced away. Before she could make the getaway she seemed to be planning, however, Octavia intervened.
“Lex! Come meet Clarke and Wells, they’re our friends from school.” Octavia literally dragged her over to Clarke, who was trying her best not to blush like an idiot schoolgirl.
“Hi,” Clarke said shyly, and held out her hand. “Clarke.”
“Lexa,” Lexa said cooly, and grasped her hand briefly. Her eyes were a fascinating green-grey that had Clarke mentally running through lists of flattering adjectives, and the thick eyeliner Clarke had seen from the audience was even more intimidating in person.
Lexa, as a whole, was rather intimidating in person, Clarke realized. She seemed to have no interest in making smalltalk with Octavia’s friends, and her expression was so closed off it verged on bored. The luminous passion that had radiated from her on stage had vanished, leaving an impenetrable facade that left Clarke feeling confused and a little frustrated.
“How long have you played drums, Lexa?” She ventured.
“Three years,” Lexa replied, and left it at that. Her eyes flitted over Clarke’s shoulder to Bellamy and Lincoln, who were chatting with Wells, and Clarke followed her gaze.
“So…you’re a friend of Lincoln’s?”
A single nod. “Our families are friends.” Again, no further explanation. Lexa met her eyes and inclined her head slightly. “If you’ll excuse me. It was nice to meet you, Clarke.” And then she was gone.
“She’s not real chatty.” It was Raven at her shoulder this time, and Clarke made a face.
“So I didn’t just piss her off?”
“Nah.” Raven shook her head. “She really only relaxes around Lincoln, although Octavia’s gotten through to her a little bit.”
Clarke let out a frustrated sigh, and something clicked behind Raven’s eyes, morphing her expression into something mischievous. Panicked, Clarke threw up her hands. “No, no, no,” she protested. “Stop that. I hate that look.”
“You liiiiiike her,” Raven crooned, wriggling up close to Clarke and making kissing noises.
“I don’t know her!” Clarke snapped back. “And it’s pretty clear that she has no interest in getting to know me.”
Raven shrugged. “You’re cute, she’s cute, I’m sure you can break down those walls a bit.”
“Seriously, Raven,” Clarke pleaded. “I don’t want you to, like, set me up with her or anything, okay? I just think she’s cute, that’s all.”
“I know that look. You want to jump those bones.”
“Well…maybe I do, but that doesn’t mean I can.” Clarke was blushing furiously now, and she clapped her hands to her face as Raven laughed. “Fuck off, Reyes.”
“Nope,” Raven said cheerily. “We’re gonna get you laid, Griffin. Count on it.”
Clarke just shut her eyes and hoped against hope that this would all be forgotten.