#slantedsunlight

“Maybe you should take this as a sign,” says Bellamy, once she’s done complaining to him, but he says it without much hope. He’s been making every argument he can against her choice of career/hobby since she started, even going so far as to basically give up on cars himself entirely, like he thought that setting a good example would cure her of her own need for speed. It’s probably a broadly better tactic than his attempted proclamations when she was in high school that no sister of his was going to throw her life away racing cars, but it’s not like those worked any better than living a moral and upstanding life does.

Racing is in her blood, and she’s pretty sure it’s in Bell’s too. He’s just in denial.

“A sign of what? You think I should start dating?”

He rolls his eyes. “I think you should consider a change in career.”

“Being a mechanic is a great living,” she says, straight-faced. “I do really well.”

“Of course you do.” He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Look, you know I didn’t like it when it was just racing. But you guys fucking meet here–”

“Because you told us we could!” she protests. They meet at the bar because Bell owns it, and he told them they could. And she does feel a little bad about it, because Murphy’s been making noise about them getting into illegal shit, and she knows Bell would never report them, but she also knows it’s–unfair. To put him in that position.

And she’d say they could meet somewhere else, but then he’d just worry about what they were doing without his knowing it. And maybe he’d deserve to worry about that, but Octavia has trouble really feeling that. It’s not like she really wants to start jacking cars either. They do a lot of questionably legal stuff, but heists that big are just stupid. Octavia races because she likes to go fast, not because she wants to get rich.

“Don’t start getting into carjacking,” he says, which she has to admit is pretty fair, as requests go. She has the same one, honestly. Their current level of quasi-legality is good with her, and she doesn’t need to push it any further.

So, in that sense, she should be thrilled when Clarke Griffin shows up, both because Clarke is an outsider, which means Murphy shuts up about how they should start stealing luxury sports cars until he decides if he can trust her, and because she’s pretty cool, and Octavia’s always theoretically in favor of having more girls in the squad. Raven is a recurring guest-star at best, and she, Monty, and Miller are definitely involved in all kinds of illegal shit. Which doesn’t make Octavia dislike her so much as it just means she’s busy a lot of the time. And she can’t race anymore, after what happened to her leg, which sucks.

The point is, Clarke should be good news, except for three other things: one, she thinks Lincoln might have a thing for her, two, Bell totally has a thing for her, and, three, Octavia is pretty sure she’s a cop.

Which would another reason to be grateful she showed up, since maybe Murphy will just get his own dumb ass arrested instead of the rest of them, but no one else seems to have noticed she’s a cop, so they’re all probably going to get their dumb asses arrested, and they’ll deserve it.

But it’s not like she wants that to happen.

She starts with Bellamy.

“You know your girlfriend’s a cop, right?”

He doesn’t look up from stocking the bar. “I don’t have a girlfriend. And I know you’re just hoping I do because you think Lincoln is into her. Which he’s not, so you don’t have to be jealous.” He pauses. “Much as I hate to admit it, Lincoln’s into you. He’s just not used to you being of legal drinking age yet.”

“Like you can talk,” she shoots back. “Seriously, you don’t care?”

“Care about what? You dating Lincoln? Honestly, that’s one of the least objectionable parts of your life. I’d rather you dated Lincoln than raced with him.”

“I know. I used that as an argument why he should date me.”

He snorts. “How’d that work?”

“We’re still not dating. And you’re changing the subject! Clarke’s absolutely, one-hundred-percent a cop. And you don’t care.”

He shrugs. “Why would I care? I’m not doing illegal shit. I’m a bartender. If I want to date a cop, that’s my business. I’ve got nothing to hide from a cop. If I were dating her,” he adds. “Which I’m not.”

She scowls. “You’re useless.”

“Yeah,” he says, unrepentant. “That’s what I go for.”

Lincoln’s no more help.

“Clarke’s a cop,” she tells him.

“If you’re trying to stop your brother dating her, I think you need a different tactic,” says Lincoln, without missing a beat. “I don’t think he cares that she’s a cop.”

That gives her pause. “You aren’t pissed about that?”

“About what? You haven’t given me a compelling argument that she is a cop, so I don’t see why I’d be upset about it.”

“Not that. About Bell liking her.”

“Why would I be upset about that?”

He sounds genuinely confused, which just makes it worse. That means Octavia has to spell it out. “Because she’s cute. And age-appropriate.”

“Oh,” he says. “I suppose she is, yes. I hadn’t been thinking about that.”

“I think about it,” she admits, soft.

There’s a pause, and then he says, “I’m hoping, at some point, that I can talk myself into feeling–” He lets out a frustrated noise. “It’s not a matter of not wanting you, Octavia. It’s a matter of still remembering you at fourteen years old.”

“That was eight years ago,” she says, but it doesn’t come out hard or petulant. Lincoln knows how old she is, and this is the most he’s ever said about it. “I didn’t even like you when I was fourteen.”

He laughs, surprised. “You didn’t?”

“Not until I was sixteen.”

“Oh, well, that makes it okay.” But he’s still smiling. “You were Bellamy’s little sister. Sometimes I look at you and I can’t stop thinking about that. And sometimes I look at you and–”

His eyes sweep over her like they never have before, hot and dark, an appreciation she didn’t know he had for her all over his features.

“Oh,” she breathes.

“You don’t have to worry about Clarke. And she clearly prefers your brother anyway.” He pauses. “And she might be a cop.”

To her surprise, laughter bubbles out of her. Lincoln thinks she’s right about Clarke and he’s not into her. Once he gets over thinking she’s a pimply teenager, he’s going to date her.

“Right?”

“She’s not good at pretending to be on the wrong side of the law.”

It’s undeniably true, so it’s no surprise when Clarke does reveal that she’s a fed–which is, admittedly, not exactly the same as a cop–tasked with looking into a bunch of shady shit, some of which Lincoln’s crew knows about (mainly what Raven’s crew did) and some of it they wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole (everything related to the Wallace family). It’s more of a surprise to find that she really does trust them, and wants their help taking the Wallaces down. It’s the kind of thing that Octavia is against in theory, because fuck the police, but for in practice, because not only does she like Clarke and hate the Wallaces, but Bell is totally crazy about her, so they should try to be on good terms.

The decision to assist her is unanimous, and Bell and Lincoln just tell her to be careful. Which she is, but anyone can get in a bad crash in a race. Especially when the other side is cheating assholes.

Clarke’s the only one awake when she comes to in the hospital bed. Bell is slumped onto her, his hand clasped tightly in hers even in sleep, and Octavia blinks, because if her brother is holding Clarke’s hand, that means–

Lincoln is holding hers, and he’s asleep too.

“Neither of them has left since you got here,” says Clarke, soft, her mouth curving in a smile. “I had some arrests to make.”

“Did I at least get credit for winning the race?”

Clarke rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “No wonder your brother says your priorities are out of order. Yes, you won the race. And you get the money.” She nudges Bell with her shoulder, gentle. “Hey, wake up. Your sister’s alive.”

He’s surprisingly cool about it too, agreeing that she followed the plan and didn’t do anything too reckless. He tells her he loves her and he’s proud of her, places a kiss on her forehead, and then leaves, which is a minor miracle all by itself. Her brother, not telling her to quit her day job, even though she got hurt.

Maybe dating a cop is good for him.

She squeezes Lincoln’s fingers. “Hey, wake up.”

He blinks up slowly and then lurches forward, relief written all over his face. “You’re all right.”

“Just tired and sore. Nothing a few days’ rest won’t cure.”

“Good.” He leans down to rest his forehead against hers. “I was so terrified, when I saw what Cage Wallace had–” He smiles. “It’s a good thing an officer of the law was there, or I might have done something stupid.”

“Yeah? How stupid?”

“I love you,” he says, and it’s not exactly a surprise, but it’s a huge relief. “I would have done all the stupidest things.”

“And then you’d be in jail, and we couldn’t make out. I think we should stick to just doing the regular stupid things.”

“Just regular stupid,” he says. “Car races with the usual level of danger. Slightly sketchy deals. Helping break down stolen merchandise.” He pauses, deliberate. “Dating.”

“Dating is new,” she says. “And not stupid. But we should definitely do it. And maybe be careful about the sketchy stuff. I’m pretty sure my brother’s going to marry a cop.”

He laughs. “Deal,” he says, and kisses her, soft and careful. She’d object, but they are in a hospital. They can do it better later. “As long as we can still date.”