#olivershaws

He stopped doing this shit ages ago. Ages. Not since their mom died, and they paid off the house with the life insurance money. His job was just enough to cover their bills and food, and they were doing fine. He took really good care of Octavia.

But Bellamy wanted to give her something nice this year. Something more than a book and a CD. He wanted to give her something she wanted, not things they needed, like they'd been doing for the past couple of years. Bellamy wanted to give her something nice.

So that's how he ends up standing in the crowded mall, a week before Christmas, scouting people with fat wallets that might be able to spare a couple of bills.

Without O, it's tough, but not impossible. She used to pick targets.

(They never go after seniors, they never go after families, no. Octavia theorized it best to aim for girls in their early twenties who still carried daddy's credit card.)

The problem is, they were a team. Octavia distracted while he did the dirty work. Now he had to be both. He's looking at the store fronts, watching people coming and going but no one fits quite right. He wonders if he's not in the right part of the mall. He's standing outside of Santa's Village for Christ sake.

But then his eyes land on the line and he notes that they're not all children, or even with children. There's a blonde girl who's purse is unzipped, and probably has been for the better part of the morning. She's got designer jeans on (so sue him, he pick up on some things over the years) and other than that it's hard for him to tell if she fits the profile. But then he sees her profile from the side and she tucks her beach waves behind her ear and the glint from her diamond studs catch his eye. She can afford to lose forty bucks.

The problem now is figuring out how to distract her and her goofy friends who appear to re-enacting some kind of sword fight, without the swords.

 "You're standing under the mistletoe." A deep voice says, interrupting Jasper and Monty's lightsaber-less lightsaber battle.

All heads whip around to the guy who was definitely not behind them two seconds ago and Jasper looks to Monty who looks to Clarke, and Clarke has an amused smirk on her face. She cranes her neck up to check out the candy cane arch they're under and he's right, mistletoe.

"That so?" She asks, pretty intrigued and pretty sure she'd be getting a good story for the holidays.

"Yeah and you know, with Santa watching I figured I could help you stay on the good list. Wouldn't want to break any rules, would ya princess?"

She wants to laugh at him, right in his smug, charming, stupid face, but for some reason, her jaw goes a little slack and she struggles with a response. He called her a princess, and it pisses her off a bit, but it also sounded, like, endearing?

"We're gonna go get hot chocolate. Leave you two to... yeah." Monty says, tugging Jasper by the sleeve to the little white picket fence.

And like that, her friends have abandoned her with a total stranger, whose proposition seems dangerously good. She gulps a bit, having taken the time to stare at his shaggy black hair that swept across his face handsomely, and his dumb cute freckles over his nose. And his voice, it was deep and honey coated somehow, and she'd maybe want to start a fight just to hear it rough and there's still a proposition on the table.

"I dunno, I think it might be considered naughty. Kissing strange people, I mean." She fumbles, wishing she could shut up and be smooth.

"Well, I don't think we've got time to ask the Elf in charge, so why don't we just take that chance? Maybe you'll get what you want anyway."

Clarke tries to talk herself back. She doesn't know this guys first name, but it's like a meet cute in a movie. Maybe. Could be. And Raven's been telling her for weeks to just try something new.

(She may have said someone, but one thing at a time.)

 "I'm Clarke." The blonde said slowly, suddenly narrowing her eyes as she extended her hand to him.

He has the urge to laugh and panic, cause, well, she seems suspicious but she's so god damn serious. It's just a kiss. By the time he takes her hand, he thinks he hasn't even come up with a fake name to give her. After all, she'll be pretty fucking suspicious when she's forty bucks poorer after making out with a stranger.

"Bellamy." He says without thinking, chest constricting when he realizes how stupid he's being.

And seriously how was O so good at this shit. She'd have just walked up and told Clarke she loved her sweater and then flirted with the boys and bam, Bellamy would have had an opening to sneak in with his sly fingers and grab the wallet.

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. So, are you going to tell me that I've got terrible game and I need to go rethink it, or do you want to test the theory."

Luckily he smiles at the last second so he doesn't come off pushy, and he hopes it's as boy-ish as he's trying to make it. She laughs a bit, dropping her head shyly and he thinks he's just got to pull the trigger now.

"Couldn't hurt."

You have no idea, princess.

He takes a step toward her, so that they're toe to toe, and her eyes close a little, looking less like a deer in headlights and a bit more like an animal of prey and he feels his Adam's apple bob hard.

Bellamy decides that's close enough, no reason to touch her. Besides, he needs a hand free to reach into her purse, which is still open and if he weren't trying to take advantage of that, he'd give her a lecture about what the excessive number of zippers is for.

So he drops his head considerably, 90% of the way and she meets him the next small stretch, and suddenly, their lips are limp against the others.

She's a lot less shy than she'd seemed when she places both her hands on his jaw and brings his mouth a little harder against her lips and coaxes his to actually move.

His hands above her open purse when he begins to reciprocate, and eventually, it falls to his side when he feels the swipe of her tongue. Suddenly, he's using his tree branch arms to collect her against him, arms wrapped securely round her waist.

Clarke makes a soft moan at that, and he notes how she tastes like peppermint candies and smells like cocoa powder - Christmas.

She moves against him well, neither one more demanding than the other, perfect diplomacy in how they navigate this kiss.

Clarke nips at his lip a bit, and he pulls back and succeeds in dragging her bottom lip between his teeth playfully, earning him a musical little laugh before she moves in again.

 Tonsil hockey. That's the only way she can describe it.

Raven won't believe her when she tells her about this. Making out with a perfect stranger in Santa's mistletoe.

She thinks she knows his mouth better than she did the answers to her biology final last semester. And she knew her stuff.

 Bellamy can't help but think about how soft she feels, and how much he likes how soft she is. He wants to compare her to Tinker Bell but somehow that feels wrong, like her wrath could reach further if it had to and maybe she isn't pristine, but messy. He likes messy. Likes kissing her messy too.

When they pull all the way away from each other (the line is moving and some soccer mom seems to think that somehow being right up behind them will get their photo taken faster) she looks a little hazy and her lips are pink and swollen - he smiles at his work.

Completely aware of the fact that he's no richer in money. And he'll wait 'til her friends get back before leaving her alone again. There aren't always gentlemen like him around.