#bsv 15

“Erm, Bellamy Blake, customer services. Can I help you?” The voice that came out of the speaker was nervous and perhaps a smudge confused. Clarke was relieved that she finally had the opportunity to let out her frustration.

“Well yes, you can help me actually. My name is Clarke and I went down to your branch yesterday and bought this bookcase, the name is in Swedish and the only languages I can speak are English and French so bear with me for a second, and I started to assemble it and there’s a screw missing. Without it, the thing will collapse the moment I place a single paperback on it and I can’t believe that a corporation of your size can mess up so ba-. “Her rant was interrupted by this man, Barry something, clearing his throat.

“Ms. Clarke if you can just calm down.”

“Who are you telling to calm down? I waited in line for hours to get this and I am thoroughly upset.”

“Have you checked to see if the screw was taped to the bookcase?”

Clarke’s eyes widened and muttered into the speaker for the representative to wait a second and went upstairs to her room. To her displeasure she found it taped to the underside of one of the shelves. The blonde was instantly horrified.

“I’m so sorry, please forgive me. I’ve just been in a terrible mood.” Her speech was panicked and rushed, desperate to apologize this harassed employee.

“Don’t sweat it. I’m just surprised someone actually called, you’re actually my first call in a month. You gave me some entertainment for the day.” He paused, “actually my shift just ended, but I hope you enjoy that bookshelf after all that fuss.”

“I have half a mind to just come down and apologize in person.”

“Then come.”

“Fine.” And she hung up.

The kids start using the mint plant they grind for toothpaste to treat the burns and soon run short. Clarke sends parties out to find more, which leads to the incident of Finn tricking Murphy into using a certain three-leafed red and green plant to wipe his ass. Surprising, yes, but even Finn cannot win that thumb-wrestle against Karma.

Second is the hay fever. A lush new planet with radioactive super-pollen proves too much even for their genetically superior senses. The second hand embarrassment of watching Bellamy Blake sneeze his way through one of his speeches is a little more than Clarke can bear, and they don’t really have any tissues down here. That adds a whole other ick factor that frays even Clarke’s iron-coated nerves.

So yeah, the cards of Heaven and Hell deal disasters in threes, and by the time July comes around (according to the tally makers they have been keeping to track the days) Clarke Griffin wants to tear her hair out in clumps. She holds her breath for the third and final plague, because she knows it will happen soon. What she doesn’t know is that it is already upon them, smaller than a dime, feeding secretly in the dark.

Clarke’s impending dread soon fades in the face of larger issues, preparing for the rainy season among them. The days stretch longer, shadows thin like chewing gum in the late setting sun, and the buzz of cicadas hum their droning symphonies into the dusk. The summer nights become warm and sated, calming the warmongering appetites of the Grounders and providing a sense of peace, however temporary.

—-

The site of Monty walking around camp slathered in mud should have raised questions, if any of them had been smart enough to ask about it. Especially since one, Monty rarely leaves camp and that mud on him is the unmistakable moist black mud of the west river, and two, Jasper starts doing the same thing a week later.

It isn’t until Raven starts covering her bare arms in drying, caking mud that people start to notice, which says something in and of itself that Clarke does not like to think about too hard. Then again, it is not so surprising that Raven is next on the list after the Monty-Jasper duo. Monty’s made a habit of stopping by to chat physics with Raven whenever he’s bored and Jasper, who is smarter than he looks and acts, can be seen flirting with Raven by means of chemical formulae and organic compounds (which, in his mind, acts as some bizarre form of foreplay).

Clarke does a double take as she brushes back the folds of Raven’s tent. They have all made their peace with the dirt and grime, but this presents itself on a whole new level. Even for Raven, who has littered her work table with little flecks of gray-black mud. As Clarke watches, her elbows grind into the flecks and the flecks become dust.

“Raven,” she begins.

Raven nods in her direction, barely looking up from her…whatever it is. Clarke thinks it’s part of a barometer. “’Sup?”

“Is there any reason you’re—“Clarke frowns as Raven lifts her forearm and more speckles of dirt rain down on the table—“covered in mud?”

“What?” Raven looks at her arms and grins when she realizes what Clarke is so confused about. “Oh, yeah, it was Monty’s idea,” she replies. “Helps the bug bites.”

“Really?” Clarke peers at the dried mud. “It looks kind of unsanitary.”

“Dirty as hell, but it does wonders for the itching,” Raven says, shrugging.

Clarke, who has several bites lining her calves and ankles herself, considers. “The west river?” she guesses, looking at the mud. Raven nods.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Clarke says, and turns to leave.

“Spread the word,” Raven calls as Clarke closes the flaps to her tent. “We’ve all got ‘em, you know. Damned mosquito buffet.”

Raven has a point, Clarke thinks as she spots Bellamy by the tool shed slapping irritably at what looks like a seriously nasty bite on the outside of his elbow. Sensing her gaze, Bellamy looks up and Clarke nods at him to follow.

“Everything alright?” he asks.

“Come with me,” Clarke says in lieu of an answer. Bellamy raises an eyebrow but nonetheless falls into stride with her as she heads toward the gates.

Once they are outside the walls Clarke rolls up the cuffs of her pants. “We’re going to the west river,” she tells Bellamy. “I need some ointment.”

“Ointment?” Bellamy squints. “And you need me for that?”

She gives him a look that says Really? “I need to test it,” she replies.

“Great,” Bellamy grumbles, stepping over a log. He is not in the best of moods, in no small part due to the stings and bites peppering his arms, shoulder blades, and those infuriating ones on the back of his neck that are a pain in the ass to reach. They are hot and throbbing in the summer heat, itching and prickling as his sweat rolls over them.

Once they arrive at the riverbank Clarke shimmies off her boots and socks, toes wiggling in delight at the fresh, if muggy air, and wades into the river. She leaves a silvery trail of ripples behind her. Hair swirling over one shoulder as she turns back to face him, she calls, “Come here.”

Bellamy, who is standing with his hands on his hips at the shore, frowns. The two of them have certainly come far from “And why would I do that?”, but he’s forgone his socks in the summer heat and he really does not fancy walking in his shoes with wet feet.

“Bellamy.”

With a resigned slump of his shoulders he too kicks off his shoes and joins her in the shallow water. It reaches her waist, his thighs. Clarke has wet, black mud running through her fingers and is looking at him with a thoughtful expression.

“Take off your shirt,” she says softly.

His brow raises. “Excuse me?”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “The bugs seem to like you,” she says. “Don’t know why you’re so special, since we all have the same blood type, but this mud is supposed to help.”

“You know you could have told me to take it off before I got in the water,” Bellamy says, but he slips off his faded tee and ties it haphazardly around his head in an odd, floppy-looking bandana. Clarke bites her lower lip against a smile. Bellamy bends down and scoops up some clay-like mud, slathering it thick and clumpy over the bites on his arms. It feels wonderfully cool. His eyes fall shut. “Fuck, that’s good,” he sighs.

Unfortunately, the bites on his back are less easily reached. Bellamy tries to maneuver behind him and curses some more when he comes up unsuccessful.

Clarke, who can’t help but stare at the way Bellamy’s muscles stretch and flex as he moves, gathers two handfuls of mud and draws up behind him.

“Allow me,” she says.

Bellamy falls silent as Clarke smoothes mud over his back. Her fingers, small and slim, trace patterns down the nape of his neck, along his spine, pausing at his ribs. There are scars. Some of them are old, nothing more than puckered skin in shapes like arrows and comets, while others are shiny, newer. She covers them all with mud.

For a while there is nothing but the calm splashes of river water and the soft puffs of her breath against his back. Bellamy listens to her breathe, realizing that that alone satisfies him. When Clarke breathes in Bellamy feels like the gravity holding galaxies together could fall apart. He thinks about souls.

Slathering muck and grime on each other should have been silly, but Bellamy instead finds it meditative and oddly sensual. Clarke covers the last of his bites and gently pats the thicker layers of mud down even. Her hands fall away and Bellamy drinks in the quiet because it might not happen again for a while. From somewhere distant, a bird cries.

Then Clarke breaks the moment by hurling a handful of mud at his back.

“What the—” Bellamy wipes an errant splatter off his cheek. “Jesus, Clarke!”

“Sorry,” she says. She does not look too sorry. “Thought you might have fallen asleep.”

“Standing up?”

She shrugs. “You’ve done it before.”

With a grimace (he tastes dirt in his mouth) he says, “Yeah, thanks.” Not wanting to ruin the drying mud on his back and chest, he uses his bare foot to scrounge up some of it from the river floor.

Clarke frowns, watching Bellamy pack a sopping gray mudball together in his hands. “What are you doing?” she asks.

“You’ve got bites too,” he replies, and there it is, that infernal smirk turning the corners of his lips up like devil’s horns. Clarke’s nostrils flare.

“You wouldn’t.”

Bellamy’s smile is positively impish. “I would.”

“No, Bellamy—wait—no—“

“Incoming.”

Ten minutes later the two of them do not resemble people so much as wet pottery. The river jitters with calming ripples and for the love of the Chancellor this is going to take weeks to get out from under their nails.

And yet, Clarke would much rather have clay under her nails than blood.

“So? Will you admit it?” Bellamy tries to grin without getting dirt in his mouth, fails, and spits oh so elegantly into the water. His makeshift bandanna is spattered and limp over his hair.

Clarke stares into his eyes, ready to argue, and for a moment gets drawn into that nebulous pull that his eyes seem to hold. Black supernova pupils with rings of dark russet surrounding them—she’s never met anyone with eyes quite like Bellamy’s. She stares and feels herself being devoured whole. She doesn’t fight it.

“Fine. This does help,” Clarke grits out.

“Hey, it was your idea to bring me along,” Bellamy says. “And you’ve got to admit, hurling mud at people is a fantastic stress reliever.”

They flop back to shore like something out of the Black Lagoon and Clarke thinks about spirits while Bellamy thinks about souls beside her. They think about energy consumed, dust storms, the cicadas and the whippoorwills of a late afternoon.

Clarke thinks about the Law of Threes and decides not to give up on Earth just yet. In time, it could become their home.

And on that hot summer day, time is all theirs. They have forever.

"Hmm?" She is tilting her head so she can see his face, but she won’t change her position on him this is way too good. She is basically laying on him, legs between his, her head on his chest.

”Have you thought about the name?” good timing, baby is 2 months away, they better talk about it as soon as possible before Clarke and the baby are still one piece.

”I like Victoria if it would be girl,” they asked doctor to not tell them gender, they both love surprises. “and Dominique is nice name for boy. What do you like?”

”Whatever the hell you want, I love both.” Bellamy kind of unintentionally placed his lips in her hair to kiss her, stroked her hair and placed his big warm hands on her belly thinking that hopefully he would feel something in there, movement, anything. That feeling that something moved under his hands was so beautiful and magical he shivered.

”Could you pass me remote?” She asked confidently after a minute of silence.

”You’re like, laying on me…” Whatever Bellamy, you gotta serve her highness, The Adorable Ball of Two People - Clarke. So he got up carefully, not moving with her. Passed her the remote, the loyal knight he is. He got a ‘thanks babe’ afterwards which caused him to smile.

”I want cuddles” and Bellamy is up for that too. Thanks God that that sofa is big like their apartment in Atlanta. He is always big spoon, he has to be, Clarke is so small she barely wraps her hands around him. So they are laying like that, comfortable silence, cute words leaving his mouth searching for her ears to hear, small kisses, tight hugs, legs knotted. And she is happy as ever, because this means forever.

Once or twice he whispered ‘I love you’ into her neck while he kissed her softly. Once or twice she said it back with added nickname such as ‘dork’ or ‘soon to be papa’. The realization of finally bright future satisfied them both very much.

She fell asleep with Bellamy around her like her shield. He won’t fall asleep just now, he is enjoying watching her. She is shifting her body, probably not so comfortable and he realizes that. Bellamy is carefully lifting her up, holding her in his arms, moving her into their bedroom. After he placed her on the bed, he turned off TV and all the lights. It’s probably like 7pm but you can tell she’s tired for today so it’s better just to let her sleep.

Bellamy searched for some extra blankets in their bags, not finding anything.

"In the pink one, love." Clarke’s voice took him by surprise, she was sleeping. Oh wait…

”Seriously?” he let out with a questioning look on his face and a slight smirk.

"Just get those damn blankets and come here." and he did as she said.

Bellamy covered her from the tiptoes to the nose with blankets. Then he hugged that burrito. Of course he did.

The third time he noticed Clarke, she was struggling to heft a shield and sword, facing off against a girl with the same gray eyes as Clarke, but with darker skin and brunette hair. Sisters, most likely. Bellamy had seen Clarke fight before. She was great with a bow, and decent in hand to hand sparring, but she held the sword like it was foreign. He couldn't help himself.

"Having trouble there, princess?" he teased, twirling his own sword with a flourish. Maybe he was showing off a little.

The blonde huffed, blowing hair out of her face. "If you're not going to say something useful, don't say anything at all."

"Family rule?" he raised an eyebrow. It sounded like something old gray-eyes would say.

"More like I'm extremely busy right now, and I don't need you wasting my time," Clarke replied cuttingly, but the remark slid right off Bellamy's back.

He could understand her annoyance. She was older than the average newcomer. It was only her second summer, and she was already almost eighteen. He had no idea how she'd managed to stay hidden in the "human world" for so long. Maybe it was because she was so pathetic with a sword. Still, it couldn't have been fun, having kids five years younger than you beat you in a fight.

Bellamy sighed. As a son of Ares, he was almost obligated to lend her a hand. He trudged over to her.

"Okay, how's this for useful: is that sword even the proper weight for you?"

Clarke shrugged, and from up close, he could see sweat dripping into her eyes and a smudge of dirt on her cheek. So the little brainchild wasn't afraid of getting dirty. Good.

Rolling his eyes fondly, Bellamy went and fetched a sword that he thought would be right for Clarke, and exchanged it for the one she was holding, setting it gently aside.

"Second thing," he said, ignoring the look of confusion on Clarke's face. "You're holding it wrong."

Clarke looked at him suspiciously, as if unsure if he was mocking her or actually trying to help. He stepped closer, adjusting her grip on the hilt. The other daughter of Athena was standing aside, watching them with a strange smile on her face. Bellamy couldn't begin to wonder what her expression meant, so he ignored it and turned back to Clarke.

"Try now," he said, stepping back.

Clarke's next move was far more graceful than anything she'd been doing before (still not perfect, but she'd get there), and the grin on her face made it clear that it felt better as well. Bellamy nodded approvingly.

"I thought Athena was the goddess of war?" he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Don't remind me," she muttered darkly. "I'm great with a gun, you know. Bullseye every time."

Bellamy shot her a grin. "My sister and I go shooting at a range sometimes. There's something so gratifying about using shotguns."

Her face relaxed into a smile, nodding her agreement. "I wish we could use them here, but apparently they're not Hellenic enough."

"What about archery? That's sort of the same idea. Haven't I seen you at the range before?"

She immediately stiffened, and Bellamy realized he'd touched on a sore spot. Maybe the Hermes kid?

"I'm not really a fan of archery anymore," she said curtly, and that was that.

"Okay, so clearly, you have no idea what you're doing with a sword. Was this one teaching you?” he gestured to the brunette.

“This one has a name,” the girl in question frowned, crossing her arms. “It’s Raven.”

“Okay, was Raven teaching you?”

Raven nodded, then glanced away. “But it looks like you’ve got it handled.”

"You're leaving?" Clarke turned sharply to her.

"I mean he's clearly doing a better job teaching you than I was."

Clarke made an apologetic face. "No, Raven, you were really helpful! Honestly!"

Raven laughed. "Nah, it's cool. I'm not much of a teacher. But do you mind if I go? I wanted to catch up with Wick anyway. He's making the-" she cut herself off, glancing at Bellamy, "-that invention of mine," she finished cryptically.

Clarke looked at Bellamy. "Are you offering to take over?"

"I might as well," he shrugged.

"No, really. Don't offer if you don't want to."

"Fine, princess," Bellamy rolled his eyes. "I want to help you learn to use a sword. In fact, I need to. Watching that pathetic performance of yours was just painful."

"Nice alliteration," she said dryly, but she looked suspicious. “Why?”

Bellamy shrugged. "Maybe I want to. Maybe fighting with people who suck makes me feel better about myself.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. "There's no such thing as a free lunch. Seriously, what do you want?"

Bellamy tilted his head thoughtfully. "How about a favor in the future? It couldn't hurt, having a wise-ass owe you."

Clarke thought, but common sense won out. She needed to get better with a sword and shield, and Bellamy was already a better teacher than Raven had been.

"Deal," she said, and turned back to her half-sister. "See you at dinner, then?"

Raven nodded. "Let me know how it goes," she sing-songed, a cheeky smile on her face.

"This is going to be fun," Bellamy said, a gleam in his eye. Rather than back down, he saw an answering gleam in her Athena-gray eyes. Okay, this was going to be really fun.

***

They practiced together every day after that. Clarke still wasn't great with a sword, but she was able to hold her own in their verbal sparring from the very beginning. He would tease her, and she would reply with a clever remark, and their eyes would soften at each other as their tongues grew sharper. Bellamy didn't dislike her- it was a strange relationship. The more they fought, the more he looked forward to seeing her.

One day, when he was helping Clarke, a small audience formed. Everyone knew that Ares and Athena were team captains of the capture the flag game at the end of the summer, and people were wondering why Bellamy would help a rival.

Among the crowd was his younger sister, Octavia, who watched the events transpire with a knowing smirk. They were taking a water break when she stepped up. "Let me teach her a few things, bro."

Bellamy raised his eyebrows at Octavia's sword, which looked more like a katana than any blade the Greeks would have wielded.

"What do you think you are, a damn samurai?"

"Like it?" Octavia tilted her head with a wicked grin. "Lincoln made it specially for me.”

At Bellamy's answering grumble, she laughed.

"Chill, big bro. I can take care of myself."

"Still, Hephaestus is tricky. I don't know if I like you hanging out with his son."

Octavia rolled her eyes. "Lincoln has more reason to dislike us than we have to dislike him, what with our dad's antics. As it is, he likes me just fine, so don't ruin it for me, okay?" her voice fell into a growl, making her sound like her father.

Clarke's eyes widened, but Bellamy just laughed. "Whatever. You were going to teach Clarke?"

Laughing, she hit him lightly with the blunt side of her sword and moved to Clarke's side.

"My brother has been teaching you some good techniques, but you need to learn how to use your size to your benefit. Let your opponent's weight work against him and all that. Bellamy's going to come at me, and I'll show you a move that you can use against someone bigger than you, okay? Watch me very carefully."

Clarke nodded solemnly, furrowing her brow in concentration. She was in full-on study mode, something that would have made Bellamy laugh if he wasn't busy attacking his sister.

***

Bellamy, bored, was walking around camp after dinner when he came across Clarke, sitting alone with her back to a tree. Wordlessly, he joined her. He didn't know why. It felt like the natural thing to do. At some point over the summer, they'd become more than teacher and student. They were almost friends.

Clarke glanced at him, nodded, but otherwise didn't acknowledge his presence. She was busy drawing in a sketchbook. He didn't want to pry, but he couldn't help but see that on a single page there were bits and pieces of countless unfinished sketches. There was Chiron, a satyr or two, and a man wielding a sword. Bellamy did a double take. The man was him. It was an incredible likeness, like looking into a mirror.

"You've got skill," he said dumbly, embarrassed to have seen himself. It was like reading someone's diary and finding your name there.

Clarke glanced up, shot him a wry smile. "In some places, Athena's considered the mother of art."

"Wow. War, wisdom, and art? A true Renaissance goddess," Bellamy nodded solemnly, earning a laugh from Clarke.

"A blessing for me, since I'm probably a disappointment in the war category,” she said emotionlessly.

"No, you're not a failure. Pathetic sometimes, but not a true failure. You're getting better every day!

She shook her head. "Only because you and Octavia are helping me. What's the story with her, by the way? You seem closer than any of Ares's other kids."

"We're full siblings. Same father and mother.”

Clarke's eyes widened, but she remained silent.

"Gonna say that it's impossible?" he raised an eyebrow.

"No..." Clarke drifted off. "Maybe improbable."

Bellamy laughed once, a short, barking sound. "Yeah, well Ares liked my mom enough to knock her up a second time before never showing his face again. Lucky us, huh?"

"Bellamy, I don't know if you should say-"

"Ah, it's okay," he waved a hand dismissively. "Dad doesn't mind impudence as long as we never truly disrespect him, don't you, Dad?" he asked, addressing the thin air in front of him. He shrugged. "Besides, it's not like anger and resentment are anything new to him. I think he likes it, honestly.“

Clarke frowned, but couldn't think of any comforting words.

"What about you then? How's your home life?"

"Not bad," she admitted sheepishly, her shoulders raising in embarrassment. Like being happy in spite of his unhappiness was a crime. "My dad married a surgeon shortly after I was born, and I'd never really had a bad relationship with my immortal mom. And my step-mom taught me medicine, which I found I was really interested in."

"A healer, huh?"

Clarke nodded. "Chiron's been teaching me how to heal demigod injuries. It's not so hard. A little bit of nectar and ambrosia and you're good as new. But you can't say that first-aid doesn't come in handy, especially here."

"Oh no, I wasn't going to argue that. Have you ever had to treat yourself?"

She shot him a teasing glare. "You should know. Just about every bruise and scrape I've gotten this summer came from you."

"Wow," Bellamy leaned back, a proud smile on his face. At Clarke's pout, he laughed and ruffled her hair. "Oh, don't worry, princess. One day, maybe you'll injure me, and then you'll get to have another patient!"

"Don't patronize me," she muttered, but leaned into his hand somewhat.

"You know, you don't have to be a great fighter. You're already pretty talented in other areas," Bellamy said before he could stop himself. At Clarke's surprised glance, he found himself speaking again. "There are better things to be than just physically strong."

Clarke smiled, looking down at her feet, Bellamy staring stubbornly at the sunset. They sat in silence for some time after that.

***

The capture the flag game came faster than Bellamy would have liked. Clarke had continued to improve with a sword, so much so that he knew she was going to cause trouble for his team. He didn't regret teaching her, though. If Clarke's newfound skills were the reason for her team's victory, it would be Bellamy's victory as well.

Clarke's eyes met his from across the pavilion. She was smirking, hefting up the gray silk banner. Octavia was holding Ares's banner, right beside him. For the first time, he wondered if the images on their flag were a bit too grotesque. He almost preferred the subtlety of Athena's olive tree and owl. Plus, it was alliterative.

Bellamy blinked. He'd never used the word alliterative before. The little princess was getting to him.

He couldn't help but notice that Athena's cabin wasn't allied with Hermes's, for the first time in a long time. He glanced over to his side, recognized the guy he'd seen before, with long dark hair, gazing longingly at Clarke. Bellamy was almost certain now that his name was Finn. Clarke was very deliberately not looking in his direction.

Standing by Clarke's side, also very deliberately looking somewhere else was Raven. The pieces started to click together. Damn. It took balls to cheat on a girl with her half-sister. Or maybe just typical Hermes recklessness.

The teams armed themselves with the weapons that appeared on the tables in the pavilion. Bellamy saw Raven pick up some sort of metal contraption, sending a wink to one of the sons of Hephaestus who was allied with her team. Probably that invention she’d been talking about earlier.

Bellamy wondered how Octavia felt about her boyfriend being on the opposing team. Not too different from how he felt, probably. He shook his head, as if to shake the thoughts out. He didn't have time to think about his possible feelings toward Clarke Griffin. There was no room for distractions in a war, and despite the game-like nature of capture the flag, at this camp it was the closest thing they could get to actual battle.

The game commenced with Octavia's yell, and Bellamy made his way to his post. The Hermes kids had dug some traps along their side of the border before the game had started. It might have been cheating, but when you had the trickster god's children on your side, you took advantage.

The conch horn sounded throughout the woods. Bellamy took a defensive stance. His job was guarding the border. Octavia had hoped his presence would attract the other team. He was one of their best fighters, so surely he was guarding the banner, right? In truth, a small daughter of Hermes had it, quite a bit to the east of Bellamy. It wasn't often that the Ares team used such a strategy, so he hoped it would work.

Bellamy paced along the invisible boundary line, careful not to get too close. He'd had relatively little action. A few of his teammates had crossed the border near him, but that was it. Then suddenly, he heard footsteps and heavy breathing. Bellamy spun around and saw Clarke, doubled over with a pained expression on her face. He lifted his sword, but half-heartedly. She looked seriously injured.

When Clarke saw Bellamy, her eyes grew wide, but she hefted her sword in front of her with a shaky hand.

"What the hell happened to you?" he asked her, ignoring the sword.

"I got a little too ambitious," she panted, her spare arm clutching her abdomen. "Thought I was a better fighter than I was. Got sliced in the gut for my ego."

Bellamy stumbled forward, a hand outstretched to help her, before he even realized what was happening. "Do you need-?"

She shook her head stubbornly. She lifted her arm slightly, and Bellamy could see the outline of some sort of cloth wrapped around her torso. "I managed to bandage myself up for now. It's not bleeding that badly," she lied. He'd seen something that looked distinctly red.

Bellamy was torn. On one hand, she was his enemy. He should capture her, hold her hostage or something. On the other hand, she looked like she could seriously use medical attention beyond what she could do out in the field.  Bellamy bit his lip. He knew that this was a battle, that he shouldn't be soft. But part of him desperately wanted her to be safe. He sighed, looking skyward.

"Get back to your side," he said gruffly.

Brow furrowed, she didn't question him. Slowly, Clarke eased around him, keeping her eyes on Bellamy the whole time, as if he'd change his mind. She walked backwards towards the boundary line.

"Wait, not there!" Bellamy yelled, leaping forward, but it was too late. The ground opened up from under her. The only thing keeping Clarke from plummeting to further injury was Bellamy's hand, holding tight to hers.

She cried out as his grip jerked her one way, gravity the other, likely opening up her wound even more. Bellamy gritted his teeth as she looked up with him with eyes dulled from pain, wide with surprise and fear. He reached down with another hand, pulling her up as quickly as he could.

Clarke lay on the ground, panting heavily. Bellamy reached over- to do what, he didn't know yet- and she was back on her feet. She bit her lip.

"How many more of those are there?"

Bellamy frowned, surveying the border. "There's a clear shot to the left of the hole you just fell in."

"Bellamy," she said softly.

He looked up. There was still a slight grimace on her face, but her eyes were soft, hinting at a smile. "Thank you," she said intently.

Bellamy waved her away. "Just get out of here before I get caught fraternizing with the enemy."

Clarke eyed the path, sharp gray eyes taking in the places that had just a few too many leaves scattered about, and nodded. She shot a quick smile in his direction, before sprinting for her side. Bellamy gaped at her, dumbfounded. What had happened to her injury?

Bellamy leapt to his feet, but it was too late. She was back in friendly territory, her teammates emerging from the trees with laughter and cheers. Raven lifted her up in a hug, spinning her around.

Bellamy continued to stare at Clarke from his side, jaw dropped. Clarke smirked at him, raising the hem of her shirt slowly, teasingly... revealing the Ares flag tied around her waist.

"Just because I can't use a sword doesn't mean I don't excel at military strategy," she called back towards him, beaming.

Bellamy just shook his head in awe. He couldn't even be mad. "Cold, princess. Stone cold."

She left the banner, now shimmery gray, in her half-sister's hands before approaching him again.

"Not my fault you have a weakness for me, Blake."

"Just for that, I'm going to think up a really terrible favor for you."

Clarke laughed, gray eyes sparkling. "Do your worst."

"Okay," Bellamy smirked, stepping closer to her. "Here it is: stand still and close your eyes."

Clarke shot him a look, but at the look in his eyes, complied. The rest of her team, and his, which had arrived in the meantime, watched him stand toe-to-toe with her. He leaned closer, and as if sensing his presence, she lifted her face to him.

Bellamy leaned closer, his breath tickling Clarke's neck. She shivered slightly in anticipation. Bellamy didn't move. He watched her reaction, watched her eyelashes flutter and her face move closer.

Bellamy leaned his head as close as he could manage, then, stifling laughter, whispered in her ear, "Hoping for a kiss, princess?"

Her eyes shot open as he jumped back with a grin. She glared darkly at him, and he was struck by the image, imagining the same expression on her mother's face and almost gulping nervously.

"Who's weak for who now?" he laughed defiantly, running deeper into his team's territory.

"Bellamy Blake, I will kill you!" she yelled, giving chase. "And it's who's weak for whom, you damn jock!"

Bellamy didn’t even have to run slowly on purpose. Clarke managed to catch up with him with a tackle that would have made any lineman proud. They fell to the forest floor, limbs intertwined.

“It’s who’s weak for whom-" Clarke repeated, insistently.

Bellamy cut her off by pressing his lips against hers. He expected her to fight back, but the next thing he knew, her fingers were curling into his hair.

“That’s what I thought,” he pulled away with a smirk.

When the Ark stole both of them from him, he grew bitter. He reinforced the walls he had built up, placing himself carefully behind locked doors as he prepared himself each morning for his new reputation as a brother. The once smiling girls now passed by whispering in low voices to each other about their good fortune in avoiding getting caught up in relations with someone of such low-class. Criminal relations. Bellamy could only sigh and move on to the next filthy corridor.

Shumway approached him not long after one girl had smirked as he passed. She’d laughed when he gave her a small smile, and he chided himself for thinking things had changed. Bellamy agreed surprisingly quickly to Shumway’s proposal, and within the month he was on the earth with his sister by his side and blood on his hands.

The girls on earth smiled at him, and he gladly smiled back. Things felt as though they’d be restored, but Jaha’s blood still tainted every thought and action. His dying form haunted Bellamy, even when pretty girls would stop by his tent.

Clarke Griffin did not smile at him. Neither did her friends. He tried not to let it bother him so much, but the masochist in him craved the punishment. The screams sent his way and the challenging tilt of her eyebrow. He wanted her to smile at him if only to know he’d done something right.

When she did smile, he started to get greedy. He wanted her to laugh at his jokes. He wanted her to support his ideas. He wanted her to stare while he worked. He wanted her to moan under his ministrations and crave his touch.

Bellamy Blake has never been in love. But Clarke Griffin made it extremely difficult to remain that way. He hadn’t seen her approaching his blockades, but now she stood there with her wit and her wrath and he couldn’t protect himself for long.

Even Octavia had taken notice. “You can’t do this to yourself. Or her, for that matter. She’s not all you’re making her up to be. If you keep her on this pedestal much longer, one of you is going to get hurt.”

He had gaped at her. His little sister knew she was the only person in his life. He didn’t plan on starting to branch out any time soon. But her raised eyebrow and smug smirk told him this wasn’t a battle he could win. So, he relented. “Well, what would you suggest?”

She pursed her lips, looking around her for a few moments while the thoughts tossed around in her mind. “I suppose the only viable option for you going forward would be to try to win her over.”

"This isn’t some teenage romance novel. I’m not just going to win her over with grand gestures and declarations of affection." He huffed, gathering his legs in his arms and blushing when Octavia burst out laughing.

"You definitely need to work on your game, brother." She wiped tears from her eyes and took a minute to calm herself down. Fairly unsuccessfully, if you asked Bellamy. "Ok, Shakespeare, you’re going to need to try better than that. Maybe compliment her?"

Bellamy tilted his head to the right, pursing his lips. That might work. He’d have to do it subtly, and outside of Octavia’s earshot so she couldn’t make fun of him while he was wooing Clarke. But it might work.

As it turns out, it didn’t. Every time Bellamy tried to compliment Clarke, she turned her head and negated his words. For every “you really handled that bone break well,” he received a “Lena’s nose will be crooked though.” For every “you’ve done a great job integrating us back into Ark society,” he got a “let’s just hope my mother and I can avoid any major disagreements going forward.”

Clarke was completely oblivious, and that frustrated him. He even resorted to storming into Raven’s tent while she was working on the radio. He paced around the room several times before she finally sighed and pulled herself away from the work. “What’s the matter, Lover Boy?”

"Clarke can’t be wooed. I can’t win her over, no matter how hard I try." He plopped into one of her makeshift chairs with a sigh and buried his face in his hands. "This is helpless."

Raven just chuckled, going back to her radio. “You’re going about it all wrong. Clarke already likes you. She respects you. You just need to get her to see you in a new light. Do something romantic for a change. Though, you might not know the definition.”

Bellamy covered his offended gasp with a grunt. He walked out of the tent hurriedly, mumbling to himself. “I know the definition of the word romantic. I even know the definition of the word with a capital R.” Laughter followed him as he left Raven’s company. He tried not to let it bother him too much.

When it came down to it, though, the most romantic thing Bellamy could think of was bringing her flowers, but even the flowers he’d picked were dying and a tad smelly. Which is why he stood outside of the med bay, turning back and forth between the entrance and the path back to his tent.

"Bellamy?" He whipped around to see Clarke with her arms held tightly across her chest and her mouth in a think line. "Are you ok?"

"Yes, yeah, fine." He nodded his head furiously before realizing how silly he must look. He settled for holding his hands behind his back with a goofy smile plastered across his face.

"Are you holding dead flowers?" She leaned over to get a better look, but he turned to the side, fumbling over the right words to say. "On Valentine’s Day?"

Shit. How could Bellamy be so foolish to forget that today was Valentine’s Day? In his defense, it was an antiquated holiday that most people neglected to practice. “Well, uh, yeah. I mean, people should have flowers on Valentine’s Day, right?”

“Wait, those are for me?” The corner of Clarke’s mouth twitched, and she let a smile take over her features. “You got me flowers?” Before Bellamy could reply, Clarke held up one of her fingers and ducked back into the med bay with a rushed “wait here.”

Bellamy waited anxiously outside, doing his best to avoid the knowing looks of the people passing by. Raven had no right to look at him with a smirk and shake of the head. She was the one who had the idea in the first place.

“Here.” Clarke shoved a book into his hands with a nervous smile. “I saw it in one of the bunkers and thought you’d like it.” She rocked back on her heels as Bellamy shook his head and glanced down. Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare. “Do you like it? I wasn’t sure if you were into plays.”

“No, it’s great.” His smile widened as he flipped through the pages, full of annotations and dog-ears from its previous owners. “It makes me wish I’d gotten you something better than flowers.”

She gasps and hits his shoulder lightly, “But I loved them!” He chuckles and shakes his head at her smirk. “Honestly though, I appreciate it, Bellamy.” He smiles to himself and keeps his eyes trained on the dirt he’s kicking as she turns to walk back into the med bay. When he raises his eyes, they catch hers immediately and she grins brightly, ignoring the blush creeping up his neck. “I’ll see you around, you dork.”

"They’re excited. And not in the murder-spree kind of way."

"You sure about that?" Clarke gave Bellamy the look she always did, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Positive," he remarked, taking another bite. "They’re happy. Let’s accept it for what it is."

"I’m not so sure about that," Clarke stated tensely, when she was interrupted by gates opening. Four grounders flanked the Commander, who’s head was lifted high as only Lexa’s ever was. Clarke stood immediately and Bellamy followed suit, preparing to exit as he knew his time with Clarke was over.

"Lexa," Clarke said as the Commander herself walked up to the two. "Glad you’re here."

"As am I, Clarke. We have much to prepare," the Commander stated, holding her hand up for her guards to halt. "The festivities begin tonight."

"Festivities?" Clarke asked, confused. She looked to Bellamy, but he only shrugged.

"For Night Veras, of course." Lexa looked Clarke over. "Do you not celebrate in the sky?"

"Nothing like that." Clarke shook her head.

"It is a celebration of the soul-bondings within our village." Lexa continued, nonplussed. “For the moment our warrior’s souls become one. Do you have such a moment in your culture?”

“We call it marriage,” Bellamy supplied. Clarke nodded as he continued, “But it’s the same concept.”

“Then you are aware of the Night Veras,” the Commander said appreciatively. In that moment, one of her guards said something in rapid Tridegasleng. Lexa turned, and Bellamy spoke quickly, voice low.

“Veras- probably broken down Eros, Greek god of love.”

“What does that mean?” Clarke said, equally quietly.

“You read the history books. It’s Valentine’s Day, Griffin.” Clarke’s eyes widened just as Lexa turned back from her guard.

“We must make haste. I came to ask for a count.”

Clarke turned to look at Bellamy, who shook his head a fraction of a centimeter. “I don’t think any of our warriors are ready for a soul-bonding.”

“You have no tributes?” Lexa asked, and Clarke shook her head no.

“Not this year.”

“Do you not wish to be bonded with your soul-mate, Clarke?” She asked, eyes narrowed.

“I think it’s a little early for that.” Clarke smiled, but not really. “My people will take part next year, but now? We’re barely surviving.”

“And what of Octavia?”

Clarke could feel Bellamy’s gaze on her back.

“Octavia is Indra’s second, Lexa. I’m sure there are other things on her mind.” Bellamy’s gaze cooled.

Lexa gave a curt nod. “Understood. Shall we still expect to see you at the gathering tonight?”

“Absolutely.” Clarke smiled, knowing how offended Lexa would be if she didn’t take up her offer, and nobody wanted an offended commander- or grounder army- on their hands.

The Commander smiled coyly and started for the camp exit as Clarke breathed an audible sigh of relief.

“That was all,” she said, relieved. “That’s what the grounders are all up at arms about?” Clarke turned towards Bellamy, who smiled.

“Told you it was nothing, Griffin.”

Clarke just rolled her eyes and looked towards the receding image of the Commander.

“I hope so.”

Later on that night, the festivities were in full swing. Clarke grinned and took a swig of Monty’s moonshine, which was better than ever since they built the still. A couple weeks without alcohol does a lot to a group of people.

In the center of the party, Lexa raised her hand, and everyone quieted, falling into place around her.

“Fien. We a gatra her tinit fir ta Night Vetras,” Lexa shouted, and the grounders cheered. Clarke did, too, recognizing some of the language- we are gathered tonight for the Night Vetras. She felt a solid presence behind her and took another sip.

“It’s amazing how quickly we pick this stuff up,” Bellamy said in a low voice as Lexa continued with her speech.

“Desperation,” Clarke responded as Bellamy settled in next to her, “is a powerful opiate.”

“Do you think some of us will be up there next year?” He said, pointing to the center, where a spiritual leader was touching the heads of warriors in rows- first, a brawny man and thick woman were touched, then a short man and a large but young-faced boy, then two women who made Clarke glad that the grounders were now on their side. Clarke nodded.

“We’re all human, after all,” she said, slowly. “After basic necessities are met, people are going to start falling in love. It’s inconvenient.”

“Such a romantic.” Bellamy snorted as they watched two warriors who could not be older than 14 being touched and exiting the row, hands clasped.

“They do seem happy,” Clarke said, almost wistfully, and Bellamy got a fraction of an inch closer, so she could feel his body heat against her.

“We will be too, you know,” he said, and she smiled.

“Just give it a year.”

“Maybe not even that long,” Bellamy said, and Clarke looked at him. Bellamy was staring right back, and she swallowed thickly.

“Maybe.” She chugged the rest of her moonshine and wiped her mouth with her hand.

It was during Bellamy’s frantic pacing that Jasper snuck behind him and shouted, “Happy Hope Day!”

“Hope Day?” Bellamy questioned.

“Yeah I was talking to Lincoln about it and it was the closest translation we could come up with for the Grounders occasion. Don’t worry about any of the preparation,” Jasper continued, “Monty and I have it all sorted and I’ve got barrels of moonshine ready so we are good to party and show the Grounders how to have some fun.”

“Just make sure it doesn’t get out of control, you know Clarke will get pissed,” Bellamy stated, “last time you guys accidently set fire to the forest.”

“Exactly my man, it was an accident,” Jasper laughed, “Surely she’s not still mad about that?” he mumbled nervously when Bellamy gave him a look saying the incident was not forgotten by any means. There was a break in the conversation while Jasper looked terrified at a million different scenarios that could go wrong that he’d get the blame for before turning to Bellamy with a smug grin.

“Speaking of our lovely lady leader, I hear you are going to the festival with her?” Jasper inquired with a smirk.

“And how did you hear about that?” Bellamy probed, embarrassed that he was being gossiped about.

“I may have heard it through the grape vine after she turned down one of the Arc guards that she was going with you,” he replied slyly.

“Which guard?” Bellamy asked, only for curiosity sake of course, it wasn’t jealousy that he was feeling at all.

“Tsk Tsk Bellamy, trying to evade my question, you excited for your little date?”

Bellamy groaned, “I don’t even know if it’s a date, she hasn’t said anything about it since she asked me to go, girls are confusing.”

“Based on a conversation I heard earlier between Clarke and Raven I’m pretty sure it’s a date,” Jasper snorted, and before Bellamy could anything else he walked away quickly.

~

A few hours had passed and Bellamy was walking over to Clarke’s room inside the station, wiping his hands on his pants and trying to relax. It was just a date. He’d been on dates before, he was a grown man and he didn’t need to be so nervous, Bellamy kept repeating to himself. It was at that moment that he saw Clarke and was speechless. She looked so beautiful leaning against the wall with intricate braids all through her hair in a very grounder like fashion.

He walked towards her and handed her the flower that he had collected. Apparently part of the tradition was that as the night progressed the woman would have flowers twisted into their braid as a type of symbolism for new hope and life, Bellamy has just wanted to be the first one to give a flower to Clarke.

“Thanks,” Clarke laughed while tucking the flower into her hair behind her ear, “Did you want to head over now?”

“Definitely, Octavia would kill me if I was late,” Bellamy answered.

The pair walked towards the clearing that the grounders had set up with flowers everywhere and makeshift seats and tables for the food. They could see everyone laughing, while eating and drinking together and Bellamy and Clarke shared a smile, both enjoying the peace between the two groups of people that were once at war.

Hours had passed and Clarke had not once left Bellamy’s side, partially because the one time he left her alone a grounder came up and started talking about how a marriage proposal between the two would be opportunistic. Their nerves eased as the night went on and when it was time for the big dance Bellamy looked towards Clarke.

“What do you say Princess? Want to dance?” he challenged.

“Only if you think you can keep up,” Clarke replied slyly.

The two joined the other dancers, spinning each other around and laughing like no one was watching. At one point someone knocked into Clarke and she fell towards Bellamy’s chest. She looked up at him to apologize but stopped because of something she saw in his eyes. Leaning up and standing on her tippy toes to cover the height distance she gently kissed him before pulling away.

“This has been a lot of fun,” Clarke admitted.

They both laughed and grabbed a cup of Monty’s hot moonshine along with a bowl of soup. Clarke followed Bellamy to a table that was on the edge of the room, even though the hall was practically empty. It was difficult for Clarke to hold onto her spoon because of her numb fingers, and Bellamy couldn’t help but laugh when she dropped it two times in a row. By the time they had finished their soup and drinks, Clarke’s hair had thawed out and was dripping down her neck, soaking her clothes even more. She groaned when she realized that she would have to go back into the cold to get to her tent; there was no heating in her tent.

Bellamy chuckled and stood up. “Octavia has an extra pair of pants, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you wore them for a bit.” Clarke sighed in relief and followed Bellamy out of the mess hall, to his and Octavia’s quarters. She smiled when she walked in, feeling oddly at home in the small space; they had spent a lot of time here before the war with Mount Weather, when Kane and her mother still refused to let them sit in on Council meetings.

Octavia was perched on the edge of her bed, flipping through a book. She glanced up and nodded at them. “Do you think that the Grounders celebrate Valentines Day?” She wondered, closing the book.

"What’s that?" Bellamy asked, shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it up to dry.

"It’s a day dedicated to love. You give your lover flowers, and take them out and just spend time with them." The younger girl explained dreamily. Clarke hid her face so they couldn’t see her smirk.

Bellamy wasn’t so discreet; he burst out laughing. “O, I don’t think your Grounder boyfriend is going to do any of those things.” He managed to say between chuckles.

"You never-" She was cut off by someone knocking on the door. To distract herself from laughing, Clarke walked over and answered it. She smiled and stepped back so Lincoln could come in, not missing how his eyes found Octavia and they seemed to light up. The man nodded at Bellamy and reached for Octavia’s hand.

"I have a surprise for you." He mumbled, leading her out of the compartment.

Clarke couldn’t help it, Bellamy’s expression was priceless, and she started to laugh. “I wish that you could see your face!” She gasped, doubling over with laughter. When she finally managed to calm down, Clarke glanced up at Bellamy who was watching her with a soft look in his eyes.

"I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh so much." He murmured, sounding slightly amazed. Bellamy stared at her for a few seconds longer before shaking his head and tossing a pair of pants at her. "I think my sister is taller than you so they’ll probably be too long, but at least they’re dry."

She took them and entered the room that used to be the bathroom, back when the Ark was still in space. Clarke quickly pealed off her cold and wet pants, and pulled on Octavia’s dry ones; Bellamy was right, they were too long. She smiled at the thought of him; he always had a way of making her smile. After rolling them up several times, Clarke allowed herself to glance at her reflection in the cracked mirror. Disgusted with what she saw, Clarke hurried back out into the main room. Bellamy was just tugging on a new shirt. He turned around and dipped his head to acknowledge her, then he sat down on his bed, patting the spot next to him.

"I didn’t realize how short you were." He joked, nudging her leg with his. Clarke let out a puff of air that could be considered a laugh, but she was still haunted by what she saw in the mirror. She was covered in blood. Grounder blood, her people’s blood…Finn’s blood.

Clarke stared down at her hands; they were still cold, but that didn’t matter; nothing really mattered. “Bellamy…” She trailed off, not sure of what she wanted to say. How could she ask him if it ever got better?

Warm hands covered her own, and there was a gentle squeeze. “No one blames you for what you did Clarke.” Bellamy whispered.

"Raven does." She muttered, shaking her head.

Bellamy sighed and leaned against her. “She’ll get over it, once she can move past her grief she’ll see that what you did was necessary.”

"How can I expect her to forgive me, when I can’t even forgive myself? How can I expect anyone to forgive me?" Clarke whispered, hating the way her voice broke.

There was a brief silence, then Bellamy was crouching in front of her, brown eyes boring into hers. He gripped her hands tightly in his and drew in a deep breath. “She’ll forgive you because she loves you, she’s your friend. We all forgive you because we love you Princess.”

Clarke felt that word hit her like a ton of bricks, felt it sink into her skin and settle inside her chest. She shut her eyes as a peaceful feeling washed over her, and a tear slipped down her cheek. A small smile graced her face; she would be okay.

"Can we sneak into the mess hall and steal some moonshine?" She asked, with a teary laugh.

Bellamy chuckled and stood up. “I’ll do it, it’s quicker that way. Remember what happened last time you came with me?”

"Yeah I’ll wait here." Clarke agreed, scooting back to rest her back against the wall. Bellamy exited the room quietly, leaving Clarke alone with her thoughts; she hated being alone. Being alone meant that she had to think, and thinking was bad…especially when her thoughts lead to Finn. Clarke sighed and flopped over, her head landing on Bellamy’s pillow, filling her nose with his scent. He smelled like pine trees and something else that was completely him; it was comforting. He was always there in the back of her mind, acting as an anchor. Bellamy was steady and he made her feel safe.

The door to the compartment opened again, and Clarke heard him walk in. She could tell it was Bellamy by the sound of his footsteps. “Passed out already Princess? The party hasn’t even started yet.” He teased, setting a large jug down on the small table in the corner.

"Shut up." She mumbled, dragging herself into a sitting position.

"Nice hair." Bellamy snickered, and Clarke threw a pillow at him. Naturally he dodged it and sat down beside her, holding out a cup full of moonshine. "I come bearing gifts."

Clarke accepted it with a tight smile. “You are good for somethings.”

"At least I’m not a loser."

"Ass."

"Ouch, right in the feelings!" Bellamy clutched at his chest.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “You don’t even know what those are.”

Bellamy didn’t say anything for a moment, then he help up his cup. “I’ll drink to that.” And they drank.

They drank too much; that’s what Clarke told herself when she found herself gazing at a now shirtless Bellamy; he had spilt on his shirt. She was staring at him shamelessly, and rather enjoying what she saw. She blamed the alcohol for the butterflies in her stomach when his eyes met hers with that gentle smile that he saved just for her. He stumbled back over to the bed to sit down, and he sat down closer than normal. Their arms were touching, sending electric shocks all over Clarke’s skin. The movement of Bellamy sitting down jostled her, and made the room around her spin; Clarke tipped sideways, almost falling into his lap. Bellamy caught her though, but he kept his hands on her waist and shoulder.

"Someone’s drunk." He chuckled; Clarke never noticed how his eyes sparkled until she was sitting face to face with him in a dimly lit room.

She laughed and shrugged. “So are you though.” Clarke jabbed her finger lightly into his chest, then let her finger trail across his skin until her hand was resting in her lap again. She pretended not to notice the way that he shivered and leaned into her slightly. “I think my pants are probably dry now.”

Bellamy was staring at her, a conflicted look on his face. It clashed with his freckles, but he still looked good. He always looked good. “I do know you know.” He blurted when she moved to stand up.

"Know what?" Clarke asked.

"I know what feelings are."

Clarke smiled at him and took his hand. “I know you do, I was only kidding when I said you didn’t.”

He continued on like he hadn’t heard her. “Because every single time you- I mean…” Bellamy let out a frustrated breath and furrowed his brow. Clarke was amazed; she’d never seen him struggle like this before. She felt his hand slide up her arm, to the back of her neck and into her hair. He only hesitated for a second before pulling her into him and kissing her. Clarke kissed him back softly, her fingertips on his jaw. She could feel his heart hammering against hers when she crawled into his lap and tangled her fingers in his hair. Bellamy peppered kissed across her collarbone, then back up to her lips, shivering when she whispered his name.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Bellamy wondered, pressing his lips to her forehead and pulling her down to lay beside him.

Clarke traced his face with her pinky and smiled sleepily at him. “Of course.” She whispered, leaning in to kiss him. Never in her life had she felt more at home.