Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It's Raven who says, after he outlines the problem and asks for her help, "You could hire someone."

Bellamy frowns at her. "Hire someone to what?"

"To come to the thing with you. People do that, all the time."

It still takes him a second to figure it out. "You want me to hire a hooker?"

"An escort. If you hire a hooker, they're just going to be confused when you want them to hang out on a boat instead of just having sex with you."

"Yeah, that would be the confusing part of this." He rubs his face. "You really won't do it?"

"Look, don't get me wrong, I'm sympathetic. Breakups suck, and breakups suck even more when you've got some bullshit company thing to go on. But I can't take a week off of my job to go on a cruise and pretend I'm into you. There are people who actually do this for a living, they'll be better at it and you can afford to pay."

Bellamy drums his fingers on the table. "Can I?"

"Okay, I don't actually know how much it costs, but you'd have to be compensating me for whatever I was doing too somehow, and I'd be bad at it, so it would be awkward as hell and still expensive. But I know an escort agency you can call."

"Wait, you do? How?"

"Roan."

It is, admittedly, not much of a surprise, and if she'd asked him to guess, it's probably the answer he would have come up with. Raven has a lot of weird friends, but Roan is the only one he'd peg for being involved in the escort business. He's just got that kind of vibe. "Is he involved as a customer or a professional?" he asks.

"He runs it."

"Of course he does."

"Hey, he might give you a deal. We ended things on pretty good terms, and he liked you."

"Yeah, because that wouldn't be weird."

Raven shrugs. "Honestly? It wouldn't. It's a business that he runs. This is LA, gross old dudes hire escorts every day of the week so people will think they have dates to things. I get that it's not exactly what you were planning, but unless you can find someone who has enough time off to do this with you, it's your only option other than just telling your boss that you and your girlfriend broke up. Which, by the way, is a good option and you should think about it."

"I know. But it's seriously this whole thing," he says. "Like, the boss is really fucking into work/life balance and wants us to be fulfilled outside of work. I'm not saying I'm not going to get this promotion if he finds out I'm single, but if he does then this whole cruise is going to be about my breakup and not my job. Which would defeat the whole point of going on the cruise. At least for me."

"So then call Roan. Tell him what's going on and he'll tell you if he can do it and how much it's going to cost. You're not going to be any worse off if you decide not to do it," she adds. "Might as well find out the options."

"And you can't do it."

"Sorry, but I really can't. A night or two? Sure, no problem. But I don't have the vacation time for a week off, and honestly, even if I did? I wouldn't really want to use that many hours doing you a favor that sounds like actual torture."

He feels his mouth twitch. "Yeah, okay. I wouldn't want to either. But hiring an escort feels like--"

"It's the way you can get a date for a whole week, one who will actually make you look good and talk you up. You don't have to do it, but I'm pretty sure it's that or telling the truth."

"Yeah, you're right." He lets out a slow breath. "Roan still have the same number?"

"Yup."

"Cool," he says. "Good talk."

*

Bellamy spends about ten minutes before he actually calls Roan debating if he can convince Echo to just pretend they didn't break up and come on this the cruise with him, since she did agree to it while they were still dating, but he finds that even if she said yes, he wouldn't really want her to come with him. It would be too weird and stressful, going back to dating her after months after they broken up. It feels like the plot of a romantic comedy that ends with the two of them back together, and Bellamy doesn't actually want that.

So he takes a deep breath and dials Roan's number..

He didn't dislike Roan, really. He was one of Raven's better boyfriends, for all he was kind of eccentric and weird. He treated Raven well and was pretty hilarious. He still never would have wanted to call the guy up to ask about escort services, but that's not really personal. There's no one he wants to call up and ask about that. This is something he would prefer to never do.

"Bellamy," says Roan, picking up on the first ring. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"Raven told me you run an escort service?" Despite his best efforts, it comes out as a question.

"I do. Are you in need of an escort?"

"Maybe." Roan doesn't respond, and Bellamy sighs, rubs his face. "Okay, so--I have a company cruise next month. When we signed up, I said I was bringing my girlfriend and my boss was really excited to meet her. He thought I work too hard and he was glad I had time for a relationship. But my girlfriend and I broke up and I'm worried if I just tell him that, it's actually going to hurt my career."

"Unfortunate, but understandable. So you'd like to hire someone to pose as your girlfriend on the trip?"

"I wanted Raven to do it, but she doesn't have the vacation time or the personality type. And Miller might be willing, but my boss knows I was dating a woman, so--"

"I can send you prices and some profiles," says Roan. "Why don't you tell me a little bit more about the company and the event, so I can try to find someone who's a good fit?"

Once he's doing it, it's easier than Bellamy expected to just open up about the whole thing. The cruise is an annual tradition, which Charles claims is a "perk," but most of the employees--Bellamy included--see it as a kind of necessary evil, like getting fillings done at the dentist. He's been at Pike and Associates for four years now, and this will be his third cruise, since he got out of the one two years ago because he had to go to a wedding. He's never brought a significant other to one, and he'd definitely always felt it, this obvious lack of having a person with him. It was a family event, and he didn't have a family to bring.

"Any preferences for the girl?" Roan asks, once he's gotten all the details. "Does anyone at work know anything about her? Will she have to use a different name?"

The question is so creepy his skin actually crawls. "Do people do that? Use different names?"

"Think of it as an acting position. It's easier for everyone if the escorts can just use their own names or choose their aliases, but if they can't, it's not a big deal. Sometimes, someone has made up a significant other and already came up with a profile, so we'll match it."

"Jesus. No, I just said girlfriend. No demographic information, no name. She's registered as my plus one, with no dietary restrictions."

"Perfect. I'll get you the profiles and estimated costs by the end of the day, and you can let me know which one you'd like to work with. Once you've decided, someone from the company will be in touch to get payment sorted out. It will be half up front, half on successful completion of the assignment."

"That's all?"

"It's going to be expensive," says Roan. "But it's not complicated. We do this every day."

"You do, but it's new for me."

"Well, don't worry. We'll take good care of you."

"Thanks, I think."

He can hear Roan's stupid smirk. "My pleasure."

*

Roan sends him profiles for three escorts, which sounded good when he offered, but now is actually terrible. All three women seem fine; they're gorgeous, and the descriptions make them sound like they'd be good at what he needs. They have experience with long-term assignments, can bullshit their way through legal conversations, and the price is high, but honestly not as high as he thought it would be for a full week of a stranger's time.

"Hey, can you help me with something?" he asks Miller, and then realizes, "No, you probably can't."

"Wow, I don't even need to be in this conversation."

He sighs. "I'm hiring an escort to pretend to be my girlfriend on this stupid cruise."

"Wait, stop, rewind. What? Since when?"

"Since yesterday, when Raven said she wouldn't do it. I know it's fucked up, okay? You don't have to tell me. But I told Charles I had a girlfriend coming with me, and I don't have a girlfriend anymore, so--"

"You guys broke up, what, three months ago? Why didn't you just cancel?"

"I was hoping I'd meet someone else or die first."

"Dude."

"I know." He rubs his face. "Look, I bring someone this year, and then next year we either broke up or I've found someone else. But this way, Charles won't just think I was lying about my girlfriend existing in the first place. Which I wasn't."

"So, you're picking out an escort."

"Yeah."

Miller sits down next to him. "What are the options?"

Bellamy feels his mouth twitch a little. "You're going to help?"

"I'm going to give feedback." He frowns. "Why aren't you just doing the cheapest one?"

"It's just a couple hundred bucks' difference," says Bellamy, with a shrug. "When I'm already paying this much, that doesn't feel like a good deciding factor."

"It's as good of one as any. Do you not like the cheapest girl?"

Bellamy takes another look at the pictures. There isn't much difference between the three girls; two seem to be white and the other is latina, and the difference in price between them is less than five hundred dollars. On the one hand, it's a lot of money, but on the other--

"I should just get her, right?"

"Is there one you actually like?"

"Jesus, of course not."

"Not to actually date. But if you've got a good feeling about one of them, don't overthink it. There isn't a good deciding factor, so just go with whichever one you like most."

"Her," he admits, picking up the profile for a woman named Clarke. She's one of the white girls, blonde and blue-eyed, a few inches shorter than he is. Her profile says that she has experience mingling with lawyers and that in her spare time she paints and gets into fights on twitter. It's not a lot, but it's not like he has a lot, for any of them. It's just enough to give him a good feeling.

"So go with her."

"Just like that?"

"You want to write up pros and cons? You've got three choices and you like one more than the others. Go with her."

"When you put it like that." He sighs. "How bad an idea is this? Like, scale of one to ten."

"Thirty. But you're doing it, so who cares? There isn't one of these options that's secretly not fucked up. Just pick one and drink the whole time you're on the cruise."

"That sounds right." He nods, making up his mind. He's doing this, and he's doing this his way, which is apparently hiring Clarke to be his fake girlfriend for a week. "It might be a forty. On the bad idea scale."

"Probably, yeah. But that's not going to stop you."

"Nope," he says, pulling out his phone to text Roan. "I'm doing this."

***

"Okay, so I need you to--"

"Feed the cat, empty the litter box every other day, water the plants on Thursday," says Monty, smiling. "I know the drill by now."

She gives him a sheepish smile. "Sorry. Just--a whole week. It's a long time."

"Which is why you're paying me this time. Seriously, I don't mind. Are you okay? You seem kind of nervous for someone who's going on a cruise."

"It's for work." Monty doesn't know all or even most of what Clarke actually does for a living, but he knows that she travels a lot and does theoretically fun things that aren't actually fun because they're for her job.

And it's not a bad job, in most ways. She doesn't have to have sex with anyone, and just kissing and being arm candy isn't that hard. Sometimes she meets cool people, sometimes she doesn't, but she's never had a truly awful client. Roan vets everyone, and he vouched for Bellamy Blake personally, as an actual friend.

Still, if he sucks, it might be a pain to get away. They'll be on the boat for a week; it's a long time to be stuck with a total stranger.

"I don't love going on trips alone, I won't know anyone there."

"Yeah, that would make me pretty anxious. But you don't have to worry about your cat!" he says, clapping his hands together. "And if you need someone to call you with a fake emergency, just text. I'm pretty much always on my phone."

"Thanks, I appreciate it. And the cat sitting. You're an awesome neighbor."

"As are you. I really like feeling like someone in my building would notice if I died."

"Same. Call me if anything happens."

"The cat and I will be fine. Call me if you need someone to pretend to be a hospitalized relative."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," she says, like the conviction in her voice can make it true. "But yeah. I'll keep you on speed dial."

*

According to the profile she got from Roan, Bellamy Blake is 32, a junior attorney at his firm, and he and his girlfriend broke up a few months before they were supposed to go on the company cruise together, which is why he's hiring an escort. He's also friends with one of Roan's exes, which is how they know each other in the first place, and apparently the only reason it occurred to Bellamy to hire someone. As client histories go, it's all pretty encouraging.

Still, Clarke's pretty much a nervous mess waiting to meet him for lunch. It was his idea to get together first, before they get on the cruise, to get a feel for one another. He's not her first client to make the request, but the guys who want to do that tend to either be considerate or control freaks, and she can't tell which Bellamy is sight unseen.

Well, okay, she has seen him; Roan provided a picture. But just because he's attractive doesn't mean he can't be a dick. In her experience, the hot ones are more likely to be assholes, actually; they have some shitty ego about how they shouldn't have to be hiring an escort, like they think she should feel lucky to be seen with them. Roan's generally got decent taste, but things can always go wrong.

Bellamy, to his credit, doesn't make her wait long. She's barely given her name at the hostess stand before she hears a rough voice asking, "Clarke?"

She turns and there he is, more attractive in person the way that celebrities sometimes are, better when his smile curves his lips up and brightens his eyes. He's got freckles scattered over his cheeks and his hair is longer than it was in the picture she saw, curly and thick, with a pair of glasses instead of the contacts he must have had in before.

She pastes on her best new-client smile. "Hi, you must be Bellamy." She turns her attention back to the hostess. "This is the rest of my party."

"Perfect," says the woman. "Right this way."

Once they're seated, Clarke waits for Bellamy to speak first, taking the time to study him instead. He's dressed casually, a plain t-shirt and jeans with a fray at the knee that he can't stop toying with. His hands are large and broad, a little distracting, and it's not enough to make her like him, but it's a decent first impression.

"So, uh--hi," he finally says.

"Hi."

"I'm Bellamy." He stops playing with the thread on his jeans to offer his hand. "Nice to finally meet you."

"You too."

"I thought, uh--I just thought it would be good to get our stories straight before we started talking to anyone else. And to make sure there wasn't anything you needed me to know about--I've never done this before."

He seems genuinely worried, and Clarke smiles, letting him off the hook a little. "Breathe. You'll be fine. People don't tend to suspect anyone's hired an escort in real life, so we probably aren't going to have any problems if we mess our stories up. Roan said you had a girlfriend you were supposed to bring, but the two of you broke up?"

"Yeah. It's been about four months now. It was one of those--it felt like it could have gone on indefinitely, I guess, but I also didn't feel like that was really it. So when she broke up with me--" He shrugs. "It was a surprise because I wasn't expecting it then, not because I didn't think it could happen. And then my boss was talking about the cruise and I realized I didn't have a date for it anymore."

"And you needed a date for a company cruise?"

He sighs. "I know it sounds weird, but--Charles Pike, he's the named partner. He's really dedicated to treating his employees well, which is great, don't get me wrong. But I didn't know he was worried about me specifically. He was so glad when I said I had a girlfriend I could bring to this, and the closer it got, the more he asked about her. So now if I don't--"

"If you don't then he finds out you don't have a life."

"I have a life," he grumbles, without any heat. "Just not the kind of life Charles wants me to have right now. If I bring a girlfriend this time and then tell him we broke up in a few months, at least he won't think I was making the whole thing up."

"So you're hiring a fake girlfriend to convince him you once had a real girlfriend."

"Which I did." He sighs. "You don't have to tell me it's fucked up, my best friend already did. I would have just had him do it, if he could pass for a girlfriend, but--"

"You wouldn't have minded that?" Clarke asks, surprised. "Pretending to have a boyfriend?"

He shifts a little, awkward. "I'm pansexual, so no. Gender's not a thing for me."

As it always does, finding out someone is queer instantly boosts her opinion of them, and Clarke feels herself relaxing a little. "Nice. I'm bi, so I get it."

His smile comes back. "Cool."

"Okay, so--logistics. Does your boss know how long you and your girlfriend have been together?"

"Not really? I told him it had been a few months when I first mentioned her, and that was a few months before we broke up. Everything was pretty vague."

"How long were you actually together?"

"About six months."

"And you broke up four months ago?"

"Yeah."

The waiter comes by for their orders, and Bellamy is both polite and nice, more points in his favor. So far, so good.

"Okay, so--do you want to keep the same story you had with your ex? Like how we met, all that?"

He makes a face. "Not really. That feels kind of shitty."

"Shitty?"

"I don't know. Like I'm stealing from her. It was her life too, not just mine."

Clarke hides a smile in her coffee. "Okay, no problem. Some people just find that easier to remember."

"I was thinking we could just say we met through friends. It's kind of true, Roan and I are--friendly."

"Wow," she teases. "That sounded really convincing."

"We don't see each other much since he and Raven broke up, but I like him fine."

"That sounds good. Been together for like nine months?"

"Sure. We should maybe pick a date, in case anyone asks."

Usually, she can tell clients that no one will care about that, that they won't have to field that many specific questions, but this is actually the longest assignment she's ever been on, and with coworkers. They'll probably have a lot of small talk, and someone might push for more information than usual.

"Got any dates you like?"

He taps his jaw. "Nine months ago was February?"

"Yeah."

"February 12 was my dad's birthday," he says.

"Was?" It sounds rude once she's said it, so she gives him a smile. "Sorry, family stuff is good for me to know."

"He died when I was three. My mom remarried when I was five and had my sister Octavia a year later." He clears his throat, awkward. "I, uh--it's kind of complicated."

"You don't have to tell me. It's mostly if your coworkers know and it's going to be weird if I fuck something up."

"They know I have a sister and we used to be close, but I haven't seen her in a while. I kind of had to help raise her, after her dad left. And then, uh--right after college, my mom died, and I got custody of her."

"So you were twenty-two, and she was sixteen?"

"Yeah. It was just two years, but it was rough for her. Both of us, but--" He shrugs. "I got her through college and she bailed after. I don't really blame her."

"Bailed how?"

"She hugged me after graduation, told me she loved me and appreciated everything I did, and then the next day she'd just left a note saying she needed to be on her own and live her own life."

Clarke can't help a wince, but Bellamy is staring at his coffee with the kind of focus that should crack the mug. "That sucks," she says, inadequately.

"It's better, the last few years. She's got a cell phone that I can actually call now. But she's up in Alaska, living off the land, and she never wants me to come visit."

"If I was going to live off the land, I'd do it somewhere warm."

He lets out a small huff of laughter, and the triumph curls in Clarke's chest. "Right?" He clears his throat. "What about you? Your family?"

Ordinarily, this would be where she gave him the my life doesn't matter spiel, but he's clearly feeling awkward, so she takes pity on him.

"Not much to tell. Only child. My dad died when I was seventeen, my mom remarried when I was in college."

"You went to college?" he asks, clearly surprised, and then winces. "Sorry, not--that sounded bad."

Clarke's regretting saying it too. It's not really a lot of information about herself, but it's more than she usually gives, already too much of herself. "No, it's fine. No college wants to brag that one of their alums is working as an escort."

"At least you're employed," he says, with a small smile. "Okay, so--that's a good question. Do you have a backstory you like to use? About what you do and where you're from. I guess that's more important than your real life."

"I like to stay kind of close to the truth, it's easier to remember. I usually say I'm an illustrator. It's less--when you say artist, people think they'll see your stuff in museums. If I say I do illustrations for textbooks and stuff, no one really asks follow-up questions. But this is probably going to be a little different."

"Yeah?"

"It's a weeklong cruise, with a lot of people you're close to."

"Roan said you had experience with long-term assignments."

"This will be my longest. And the most--I did a long weekend for a wedding, and there was plenty of time there where I wasn't really--on the clock, I guess? We didn't have wedding stuff to do all the time."

Bellamy nods. "Yeah, I get that. But on a boat--"

"I'm good with it, but I just wanted to make sure you knew, this is kind of new for me too. So I'm not going to be perfect."

"Don't worry about it." He smiles, pushes his glasses up from where they've slid down his nose. "I know it's going to be weird, but we can probably deal with it, right? People don't know everything about their real significant others."

"Definitely not."

"There is one thing, though."

"Yeah?"

"Last name."

She laughs. "Oh, yeah. I usually don't need one. Garfield."

"You came up with that fast."

"I'm a professional."

His mouth twists, and she knows, from long experience, that he wants to ask for the truth, that he wants to know if she's real. For all people understand that they're paying for a fantasy, they don't really want to. It's the Pretty Woman effect; everyone wants to be the special one who wins over the person who isn't supposed to be won.

But Bellamy doesn't actually ask. "Okay, so--anything else? What are we forgetting?"

"Tell me about your coworkers," she says. "The ones I would have heard about."

He leans forward, focused as he starts to sketch out the people she's going to meet, and Clarke has to smile. She does like him, so far. Maybe this week won't be so bad.

The feeling lasts through the drive to the ship, through boarding and introductions to the coworkers he's already told her about, through meeting the boss, right up until Charles Pike says, "And Bellamy, I don't think you've met Marcus. Marcus Kane, this is Bellamy Blake and Clarke--" He frowns. "I didn't get your last name."

"Griffin," says Marcus, his expression unreadable as he looks at her. "Good to see you, Clarke."

Her mouth works without input from her brain. "You too, Marcus. It's been so long."

Bellamy and Charles are looking lost, but Clarke doesn't actually have any idea how to manage the situation. It's always a possibility, meeting someone she knows on a job, someone who knows the real her, and maybe she should have been more careful, with a law firm, but she'd done her research. She couldn't find any connection between Charles Pike and Marcus Kane.

Apparently she didn't look hard enough.

"Clarke is my stepdaughter," Marcus supplies, into the stretching silence.

"Is she? Then it's even more of a shame your wife couldn't make it," says Charles, and Clarke lets out an involuntary breath. It's just him, not Abby. One fewer person to manage.

"A shame," Marcus agrees. He's still watching her. But then he turns his attention to Bellamy. "I'm sorry, you were--one of the junior associates?"

Bellamy smiles, bright and friendly, but with this kind of discomfort that actually works for the situation. The awkwardness is off the charts, it would be weird if he was too comfortable. "I am. It's a pleasure to meet you. Clarke's--told me about you."

The giggle she swallows is a little hysterical. What would she have told him, if they'd been dating for nine months? What would he know?

What's she going to have to tell him now?

"We need to go find our cabin," Bellamy goes on. "I want to get settled in. But it was nice to meet you, Marcus. I'm looking forward to getting to know you better."

"Same," says Marcus, but he's still watching Clarke. "Can't wait."

***

"Do we need to leave?"

Bellamy's first impulse was to apologize, but he doesn't actually have a thing to apologize for. He didn't know any more than she did, couldn't have warned her. He gave her a rundown of the people she'd meet and Marcus Kane wasn't on his list.

"Of course not," says Clarke, shaking her head. "I wouldn't make you--"

"Clarke," he says, gentle. "You didn't sign up for this. This is a huge change in the job, I'm not expecting you to just roll with it. You aren't supposed to be lying to your family. I can fake an emergency, you can--"

There's a calculating look in her eyes when they meet his that makes his voice die in his throat. "This could be good. If you're willing to--if you don't mind."

"If I don't mind?"

"This isn't about me. I'm not supposed to be--the whole point of hiring an escort is to not have to deal with real drama, and I'm bringing it straight to you."

"The whole point for me was avoiding having a conversation with my boss," he teases, but he sobers up fast. "What do you need me to do?"

Clarke sits down on the side of the bed, and Bellamy takes the chair nearby. At some point, they will be sharing that bed, but he can give her space for now. Until they've finished this conversation and figured out where they're going.

"Like I said, my mom and Marcus got married when I was in college. Sophomore year. I wasn't--I didn't do that well with it. Nothing personal, Marcus is a good guy, but it hadn't even been three years since my dad died. I couldn't believe she was already moving on. If I'd been older, it would have been different, but as it was--we already hadn't been getting along, and then she got married and it drove us further apart."

"Okay."

"And then--I was pre-med in school. My mom's a doctor, she wanted me to be a doctor too, and I didn't change my mind because of everything that happened, but I finished college and I realized I had no idea what I wanted to do. My mom thought I was going straight to med school, and we had this huge fight when she figured out I hadn't applied anywhere. I told her I wasn't ready, and she gave me a year to figure myself out before she cut me off."

"Jesus," he says. "Seriously?"

"I kind of get it. Not--my mom has always thought that sometimes you have to do what's right for the people you love, even if it hurts them. She thought that if she gave me an ultimatum, it would make me get my life on track. But it didn't work."

The snarky asshole part of him wants to say that was obvious, but it feels too mean. And, if he's honest, he doesn't get the impression that Clarke's life is bad. Not that he has much of a sense of it, and there's probably always going to be a level on which being an escort is a sign of failure. But she seems pretty good, even with this new wrinkle in things.

"So she cut you off?"

"I told her I wanted to be an artist, and she said that wasn't a career. I think she was expecting a few months of living on my own would make me change my mind, but I'm too stubborn."

He has to smile; it's been less than twenty-four hours, but that's already not a surprise. "When did you start doing the escort thing?"

"I've known Roan since we were kids. I was waiting tables, but I was complaining to him about how it didn't pay me well enough or give me enough time for art. He asked if I thought I'd like escorting, and I kind of had trouble imagining it, but it seemed like it was worth a try. And it was--fine. I did theater in high school and college and it was kind of like that, figuring out a role and playing it. I do this part-time and take online commissions and I'm pretty good. But it's not like--" She smiles with one side of her mouth. "I can't tell my mom that I get a decent amount of money from tumblr commissions and supplement it working as an escort. So we just don't really talk."

"So Marcus isn't going to be surprised you have a boyfriend he's never heard of."

"No. I was there for Christmas, so--we would have started dating after that. And he knows how awkward we are." She lets out a breath. "I'm sorry."

"Seriously, you don't have anything to apologize for." He hesitates, but stands, sits down next to her. "If you want to leave, we can. If I have an excuse to leave my awkward cruise--"

"I think that would be worse. For everyone."

"Probably. So what do you need me to do?"

"Just--don't be an asshole after this. You're going to know a lot about me, by the end. Way more than my clients usually do. So don't make me get a restraining order."

"That's it?"

"You should say I'm an artist and work as a waitress part-time to help with bills," she says. "That's what I told Mom and Marcus. My mom's name is Abby Griffin, she's the head of oncology at Arcadia Medical. Charles probably knows her too."

"What do you think Marcus is telling him?"

"Good question." She flops back on the bed. "It's not like he wants to air the family dirty laundry here. If I were him, I'd say that I was already at college when he and my mom got married, so we've never been that close, but of course he's happy to see me. And then he's probably going to call my mom."

"Sorry."

She smiles up at him. "It's not like you could have known. I'm sorry you have to deal with this."

"Honestly, it's probably less stressful than just going on the cruise," he says without thinking.

At least she laughs. "Seriously?"

"I do better worrying about other people."

"You don't need to worry about me," she says, but there's a smile playing around her mouth. "I don't think Marcus is going to figure out what's actually happening."

"Okay, not worry about, but--focus on. Something other than how awkward everything is for me."

"So, you worry about how awkward it is for me, I worry about how awkward it is for you?" Clarke asks.

"That way everyone's covered."

"Something like that."

"Does this change anything for you?" he asks. "Aside from the job. Anything different I should be doing?"

"No."

He wets his lips. "Okay, uh--one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Physical affection."

"Oh."

"I assume you have some guidelines about that."

"Yeah. Touching is fine. No public groping or anything, but arm around my shoulders, pecks on the mouth or cheeks. I tend to be conservative with PDA, so--nothing you'd be uncomfortable doing with a boyfriend on the street?"

The distinction makes sense, but he has to smile. "What do you do when you're explaining that to straight people?"

"Depends on the event, but I usually go with bases. If we're at a party or something, it's different, I expect some making out and groping. But it didn't really feel like you were hiring me to show off how far you could go with a cute girl."

"No. Honestly, I'd like to avoid that. I don't really want anyone I work with knowing anything about my sex life."

"Fair enough. Kissing is okay, no tongue. And nothing under the clothes."

"Got it. I'm mostly, uh--I like holding hands, arm around your shoulders or waist. In public, anyway."

"That's fine. And if I feel like we need to be more demonstrative, I can take the lead. If I do something first, you're okay to do it. Do you have any lines I shouldn't cross?"

"As long as we're doing what everyone else is doing, I'm fine. I just don't want to stand out."

"Got it. So--want to go check out the rest of the ship?"

"No more notes for me with your stepdad?"

She flashes him a grin. "Make me look good?"

"I'll see what I can do."

*

Bellamy will admit he doesn't totally get cruises, not when you're actually rich. Growing up, his family went on a lot of destination vacations, traveling to places where you paid a flat rate to have access to a bunch of generic facilities, and it was fun, but he always wanted to go to places, to experience local culture and history. When he takes vacations these days, that's what he does; he's been back to the Philippines to see where his father was from, gone to Europe to check out the ruins of the civilizations he loved reading about as a kid. He wouldn't mind visiting Central America for the indigenous ruins and landscape either, but that's not really how cruises work. They're heading down the coast, visiting a few places in Mexico, and while he can visit the historic parts of the cities, it's not the same as really spending time there.

But it's also not really a vacation; as a work obligation, there are worse ways to spend a week. The ship is large and has a decent number of amenities, and the company pays for the base trip plus a few amenities. He's absolutely not complaining just because he's getting an awesome perk he wouldn't have chosen for himself.

And, to his surprise, it's Clarke's first time on a cruise.

"My dad didn't like boats," she explains as they check out the shops. "He said he was exposed to the Titanic story too young and never recovered."

Bellamy snorts. "So all giant boats are doomed to sink."

"It was his hangup, not mine. We took plenty of cool vacations, just not cruises, so it's not like I was deprived. But this is new for me."

"Glad I can broaden your horizons."

Clarke drifts closer, slides her hand into his, leaning her head on his cheek for a second before straightening. It's easy, casual affection, convincing, and he has no idea if anyone he works with can see them, but it's not like it's a bad idea to get in the habit of staying close. They're supposed to be a couple all the time.

"So, do you have favorite things to do on cruises? You've been on a few, right?"

"Yeah, but I've never brought anyone before. Most of my activities are kind of anti-social."

"Like what?"

"Sitting by the pool catching up on my reading, mostly."

"Seriously? There are a billion things to do. It's actually kind of overwhelming, how much is happening here."

"I do other stuff," he says, giving her hand a mostly involuntary squeeze. "But it's mostly when my coworkers are doing something. Like, they're going to the casino or a show, and I'll go along with them, but it's mostly their idea."

"It was probably kind of weird being alone, right? Especially if most of your coworkers were bringing significant others."

"Yeah. And I wasn't really looking to hook up, which some people were."

Clarke pulls a face. "Who wants to hook up on a work trip? With your boss around?"

"Right? I know Charles isn't going to the clubs watching to see people flirting, but still."

"Okay, so--now you have me. What kind of stuff do you want to do here with your girlfriend?"

It's a pretty good question. Having someone with him--even just a friend, even just a new acquaintance--changes the way the whole trip looks. He hadn't thought much about what it would be like, doing this with Echo, but he'd been excited by the idea of having someone, of not feeling as if he was here without any real allies.

"Whatever my girlfriend wanted to do."

"Wow, what a cop-out."

"You're the one who's never been on a cruise before. Was there anything you were looking forward to? Anything that seemed cool?"

He regrets the question almost as soon as he's asked it. Clarke probably wasn't particularly excited for this before she found out her semi-estranged stepfather was also on board. Of course she doesn't have an itinerary; this is even less of a vacation for her than it is for him.

But if she's offended, she shows no sign of it. "How much of our booze is covered?"

"Not enough, but Charles covers two drinks per day per person."

"I should have gone to law school."

"I don't know if I recommend it."

"No?"

He shrugs. "If you like it, you like it. I picked it because I wanted to not be poor anymore and I could make the funding work. It's good and I'm happy, but it's not exactly my passion."

"Passion can be overrated. If I didn't know I could always go back and tell my mom I changed my mind and needed her help, I don't know if I would have been able to try making it as an artist."

Bellamy glances around, making sure they're fairly private. There are people around, of course, but no one he knows, no one who cares about them.

"Can I ask about the art?" he asks. "What you actually do, I mean. If the answer is no, that's cool--"

"I don't mind."

"You said you did tumblr commissions, right? How does that work?"

Clarke is interesting and engaging to talk to, which he feels like an asshole for not really expecting. It wasn't like he thought she'd be boring, really, he just wasn't sure how much they'd really have in common. It was hard to predict, based on just the profile he'd seen of her, how they'd actually get along. But she's smart and passionate, even eager when she lets herself be. She started off with fanart, gathering a following before she started posting some of her original characters, branching out, and while it's not enough to make a living, she's working on doing some graphic novel stuff with a friend, which seems pretty awesome.

He realizes her stepfather must be around the second her face closes off, and he's looking for Marcus Kane before he's even fully processed that's what's happening. He's with Charmaine Diyoza, one of the partners, but his eyes are fixed on Clarke, his expression curious.

"We don't have to talk to him," Bellamy says.

"We will at some point," she says, her mouth twitching a little. "The boat is big, but I don't think we can actually avoid him all week."

"It doesn't have to be right now."

"No, but only one witness is probably about as good as it gets." She squeezes his hand once and then she's tugging him to the bar, and all he can do is hope that he doesn't fuck it up.

Marcus has a fruity drink, which is one of those weird things that improves Bellamy's opinion of a person. Some men won't order cocktails because they think they're for women, and while there's no real way of telling if someone is having scotch on the rocks because they like it or because of toxic masculinity, Marcus's drink is neon enough that Bellamy has to respect it.

"Hey, sorry we took off earlier," Clarke says, smiling.

"No need to apologize. I wasn't expecting you either. Charmaine, you must know Bellamy. This is his girlfriend and my stepdaughter, Clarke Griffin."

Bellamy likes Diyoza in the same way he likes depressing prestige movies; he's glad they exist, knows they're important, but doesn't really want to interact with them. He's happiest when Diyoza is ignoring him, and right now she's looking at him like he's a three-course meal of fun gossip.

It helps only marginally when she shifts her focus to Clarke. "Nice to meet you. I've worked with your mother a few times, she didn't mention you had any connections to the firm."

"I didn't tell her I did," says Clarke, smooth. "We don't talk much."

Marcus takes a deliberate sip of his cocktail. "What are the two of you up to?"

"Just exploring. It's my first time on a cruise ship. Are you thinking of joining the firm?"

It hadn't occurred to Bellamy how weird that would be, if Marcus actually started working with him. Maybe he can just say that the whole cruise experience was so awkward, he and Clarke broke it off after they got home. So far, it seems like everyone would buy it.

"Thinking about it, yes," says Marcus. "And I was looking for an excuse to take a vacation. Can I get the two of you a drink?"

Clarke checks the menu and orders, and Bellamy does too, and somehow the heavy mood just--lifts, like storm clouds blowing over.

"You're really good at this, huh?" Bellamy murmurs, when Diyoza and Marcus are getting another round, and Clarke pecks him on the cheek.

"Almost like it's my job."

***

Mom: Marcus says you're on his cruise
I'm sorry I can't be there
Unfortunately, I'm at a conference

To her surprise, Clarke finds herself, as soon as she's finished reading her mother's messages, turning to look at Bellamy, wanting to show him. But he's still asleep, curled away from her on his side of the giant bed, breathing slow and even, and she can't bring herself to disturb him.

He's pretty good, as clients go. Especially given all the complications.

She rolls out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake him by getting up but also not wanting to wake him by dealing with her texts next to him, and goes to sit on the couch instead, studying her phone. Abby sent the messages just after five, which Clarke hopes means that her conference is on the east coast and not that she woke up at the crack of dawn because she was stressing about this. The last thing she wants is Abby losing sleep over her.

The messages themselves are typical, the usual awkward tone, plus the odd implication that Clarke would be disappointed Abby wasn't there, like she'd requested her presence, but she's pretty sure that wasn't the intention. Abby probably wrote and rewrote them, trying to be friendly but not too aggressive, working so hard to find the perfect words and still not getting there.

"Everything okay?"

Bellamy's voice is raspy, thick with sleep. He's propped up on his elbows, glasses askew, hair a mess, and Clarke's mouth actually goes a little dry. He's not her first attractive client, but he's the most attractive client she's had that she actually gets along with. And he's kind of a lot early in the morning.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You didn't," he says, with a huge yawn. "I was already awake, just didn't want to get up yet. Did something happen?"

She bites the corner of her mouth but goes to sit next to him again, handing him the phone. "Texts from my mom."

He makes a face, but his tone is neutral. "Huh."

"I don't think she's trying to--this is the problem with talking to her. We do fine in person, but every time she texts me it feels like I'm in trouble for something I didn't do. Like me and Marcus planned this trip trying to exclude her or something."

"So that's not on purpose?"

"I don't think so. But I don't really know what to say."

He hands the phone back. "Something about how it was such a surprise to see him, maybe?"

"Maybe." Her conscience gets the better of her, and she flashes him a smile. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"This really isn't the experience you're supposed to be paying for. I'll tell Roan to give you a discount."

He flops back, stretching. "At some point, you really need to stop apologizing for this. You didn't do anything wrong. And I'll try to stop too," he adds. "Were both just doing our best with all of this. And we're on the same side."

It's a somewhat staggering thought, but he's not wrong. "I'll try to remember that. How does this sound? Yeah, it was a total surprise! Bellamy didn't know Marcus was thinking about joining up!"

The pause as he thinks it over is longer than she was expecting. "You want to tell your mom that?" he finally asks. "About me, I mean."

"Marcus already did. I assume we'll just tell them we broke up at some point. It's more complicated than usual and I'm--" He raises his eyebrows, and she shuts her mouth on the apology. "Going to deal with it, the same as you are."

He grins. "You are. I'm pretty sure there's a breakfast buffet, you want in?"

"Let me just send this text."

The ship is still kind of weird and overwhelming, but Clarke's getting somewhat more used to it, and it's at least kind of novel. Bellamy is good company, which is nice, and Marcus and Bellamy's coworkers being around add a little excitement, this weird kind of low stakes game that she doesn't actually think she'll lose. There's always a chance someone will figure out the whole escort thing, but the odds are slim, and she thinks they actually dealt with the Marcus awkwardness as well as they could. It's not like a real significant other would have done much better.

She slides her hand back into his as they walk, and he shoots her a smile, squeezes her fingers. It's actually pretty nice.

They get to the dining room and grab food from the buffet, Bellamy scanning the tables when they're done and finding a couple of his associates who are closer to their age range. Clarke doesn't actually remember their names--she met them before they saw Marcus and that kind of derailed her brain--but Bellamy fills her in.

"The one with that tattoo is Emori, she's another associate. That's her husband, John, but everyone else calls him Murphy. He's kind of a dick, but you get used to him. And that's Lincoln, a paralegal, and Luna, a partner. They're all pretty chill."

The greetings she gets from Lincoln, Luna, and Emori all are, as Bellamy said, pretty chill, but then John/Murphy fulfills his own destiny of being a dick with, "Heard you guys have some awkward shit going on."

Bellamy snorts. "Thanks for noticing. Did any of you know about Marcus Kane? This is the first I heard about him maybe joining the firm. Which sucks, it caught us totally by surprise."

"Charles mentioned it to me, but not in any great detail," says Lincoln. "And obviously I didn't know it was of interest to you."

"Yeah, I wasn't really upset I didn't get a head's up, just curious if I missed it or if no one told me."

Emori leans forward, curious."No one told me either. He's really your stepfather?"

Clarke smiles. "Yeah. And my mom and I don't really get along, so this is the first time I've seen him since Christmas."

"Wow, awkward," says Murphy, who, after just two sentences, has already demonstrated why people call him by his last name.

"Exactly what I was imagining for the first time I met my boyfriend's coworkers," Clarke agrees. "Definitely my dream cruise."

Right on cue, her phone buzzes with another text from her mother--Bellamy is your boyfriend? You haven't mentioned him.

At least they're already talking about this; it's not like her complaining will change the subject.

"My mom says I didn't tell her you existed," she tells Bellamy, and he snorts.

"Good that she noticed." He presses his lips to her shoulder, an odd, warm kind of affection that she finds she likes. For all she's always supposed to be in long-term relationships, most of her clients aren't good at pretending, or are more interested in her being a trophy than a person. From Bellamy, the gesture feels supportive. "Do you need to text her back, or are you going to leave her hanging?"

I'll let you know if he's coming for Christmas, she texts, and stows her phone. After all, she is doing a job, and that job is being an awesome girlfriend for Bellamy, not overthinking messages to her mother. "She's supposed to be at a conference, she should be focusing on that. And we should be focusing on having an awesome vacation. What are you guys up to today?"

Murphy and Emori want to go to the casino, which makes sense based on what little Clarke knows about them, while Luna apparently just spends basically all of her time in the pool, and Lincoln wants to go to the spa.

No wonder Bellamy doesn't ever have much to do on these; Clarke's sure he's happy spending a few hours in the casino or the spa or the pool, but she doubts he wants to be there that much.

"I think we should check out the spa," she decides. "Get a massage, maybe? You need to relax."

"You're one to talk. I'm pretty sure you carry tension in every part of your body."

"Do you think we can have drinks in the spa? That sounds like the perfect day to me."

"There's a limit to how drunk I'm getting on a work cruise."

"Why?" asks Murphy. "There's no limit to how drunk everyone else gets. You should just lean into it."

"Much as it pains me to say it, he's not wrong," says Emori. "It would be nice to see you actually enjoying yourself for once."

"I enjoy myself," Bellamy grumbles, and Clarke rolls her eyes.

"Sorry, I'm going with the majority here. Everyone else seems to agree that you need to lighten up and get drunk."

"It's not even noon. I need to ease into day-drinking. Build up my tolerance."

He's smiling, so Clarke doesn't worry she's pressuring him. If nothing else, she thinks relaxing and having a good time on the company-mandated vacation is probably a smart move. He's supposed to be enjoying himself.

Clarke loops her arm in his as they walk. "You're good with this?"

"I think I'll live. Anything more from your mom?"

"No." She sighs. "I wish I knew the right thing to say to her. Like--it does suck she found out like this, but it's not like I was really hiding it from her. We haven't talked in months. I could have called her up to tell her I had a serious boyfriend, but--"

The weirdest thing is that she thinks she wouldn't have, even if she and Bellamy had been going out for nine months. And that's not her fault, really. When you disown someone, you lose any right to getting news about their life in a timely manner.

"You know I'm on your side here," says Bellamy, and she does, which is also in the running for the weirdest thing about her life right now, even if it does make sense. He's a good guy, by all appearances. And he's rooting for her. "I don't think there's a right thing to say because she's acting like you're a normal family, and you're not. My sister does that too, when she calls."

The statement catches her off-guard, mostly because she would have thought she was Bellamy's sister in this story, the kid who left home and doesn't call enough. But it wasn't like her mom didn't give her cause to go. It wasn't like she really put the rift there.

"She calls up after a year and acts like it's been a week," Bellamy goes on, apparently oblivious to Clarke's turmoil.

"I'm the one downplaying it, not her."

"I'm just saying, if she hasn't reached out to you, it's not just you that's the problem. Especially when she's the one who--"

"Yeah." She squeezes his arm. "Anyway, we've got better stuff to do, right?"

"So you claim," he says. "I'm still not convinced."

But it doesn't take long for him to start enjoying himself. They go to the spa and get pampered for a couple hours until it's time for lunch. The ship is full of restaurant options, and they pick one of the ones that's covered with the room to see how it is. Lincoln doesn't join them, and Clarke can't help wondering why, in a firm with plenty of single people, Bellamy's the only one who felt the need to hire an escort.

"You should let me know if you want any alone time," he says, before she can ask about that. Not that she's sure she wants to.

"Alone time?"

"You don't have to hang out with me non-stop. None of the significant others do."

"If I want to do something, I'll tell you, and if you don't want to do it, you don't have to. And the same goes for you. But I don't need a break from your company."

The truth--and weirdness--of the sentiment doesn't fully land for her until that night. They had dinner with Marcus and Charles, along with some of Bellamy's other coworkers, which was surprisingly not terrible, and after Luna drags them to one of the clubs, where she and Bellamy get fairly tipsy, dance a lot, and she takes the excuse to nuzzle his neck so she can finally get a good whiff of his really nice cologne.

It's not exactly a problem, but after a night like that with most of her clients, Clarke would be done. She's kind of an introvert, and being on at parties is always tough, but it doesn't really feel like being on with Bellamy. He's easy to be around, easy to talk to. It's like hanging out with an extremely hot actual friend.

"This is nice," she tells him, as they walk back. Between the slight rocking of the boat and the alcohol, she's a little unsteady, and he has his arm around her to keep her vertical. Which is nice too.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I wasn't sure I'd like it, but I do. It's kind of fun."

He laughs, unlocking the door and ushering her into their room. "Ringing endorsement.. But I'm glad it's not torture yet."

"Yet?"

"It could get worse."

She giggles. "You're such a pessimist."

"I'm not. I'm a realist. This is good for now, but we're here for another week. I'm having fun too, but--if you stop, I won't be offended."

She laughs, tugging her sundress off. Bellamy looks away, like he did last night, which is cute, and she sheds her bra while she's at it, finds her nightshirt to tug on before flopping onto the bed. It's huge, large enough she and Bellamy came into zero contact last night, which is only a bit of a shame. He's probably great for cuddling.

"You can turn around now," she tells him.

"I'm actually going to go shower, since I didn't this morning. Do you need anything? Water?"

"Water would be nice."

He fills up a glass and leaves it on the table next to her before he goes into the bathroom. Clarke can hear him moving in there, distant and muffled, the sound of brushing teeth and rinsing his mouth, and then the shower turning on. She closes her eyes, letting the world move under her back, drifting as she waits for him.

She should be tired of him by now, but somehow, she isn't.

"You know why I'm not worried?" she asks, when she hears him come out of the bathroom. "About this whole thing."

"Because you're really drunk?"

"I'm pleasantly drunk, thanks. I could sober up if I needed to."

"Uh huh. Why aren't you worried?"

"The bad thing about jobs isn't jobs."

"You want to try that one again?"

"I can be at the best party in the world and I'll still have a shitty time if my client sucks. Being stuck on a boat isn't the problem, it's being stuck with someone. But I'm not stuck with you."

There's nothing for a few seconds, and then Clarke feels the dip of the bed as he sits down on his side, and then lies down. "You're not stuck with me yet."

"Is yet your favorite word?"

He snorts. "This week, apparently. But I'm glad you like me so far."

"And we're getting off the boat tomorrow, right?"

She can feel him shifting, getting comfortable as he settles in on his side of the bd. "Yeah. It's basically a resort town, but there are some options for bus tours or something if you want. Or shopping. And there are some company activities."

"Is there any way I can convince you that you don't have to be nervous about this?"

"Good question." She hears his sigh. "I know I'm being weird. I think I'm not good at this whole thing."

"Which part?"

"It's your job to be here, it's not terrible, and I should stop worrying."

Obviously, it's all true, but Clarke can't really bring herself to agree with him. She's had clients who cared about her enjoying herself before, but it always seemed tied to their egos, or to some weird inner turmoil over having hired an escort in the first place, and that's not the vibe she gets from Bellamy. It feels like he'd be worrying she wasn't having fun no matter who she was, like it's a personality trait of his, and kind of a nice one.

"Realistic suggestions only," she teases. "I know you're not going to stop worrying, but it is my job to be here and it's not terrible. I've had way worse gigs."

"Because I don't suck."

"Not yet."

"I'll try not to start."

"Good." She navigates under the covers, and Bellamy does too, and she makes herself roll to face away from him instead of snuggling in. "Night, Bellamy."

He switches off the light and turns on his side too, facing away from her, completely safe from accidental snuggling.

Or he's just more comfortable like that. One of the two. "Goodnight, Clarke."