Chapter Text
Fourth Movement: Love
Clarke awoke to a hand shaking her shoulder, brown eyes swimming into focus in the icky blackness. She immediately retreated from the stranger before her, eyes bouncing chaotically around her foreign environment.
“Hey, it’s okay,” a deep voice assured her. “You were having a nightmare and I thought I should wake you up…”
“Bellamy?”
Her brain caught up with her senses as she took in his muscled chest and messy curls glowing in the city lights. He nodded down at her, edging closer now that she’d halted her retreat. She let her head fall back to the pillow, a puff of air releasing from her lips. “Sorry…”
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” His deep voice sent waves of comfort through her, settling her restless mind. “You were dreaming of your father?”
“I…” she paused, wracking her memory. “I think so. It’s too shadowy to remember. Just feelings of pain, loss, regret…”
He perched on the bed next to her, the heat of him bleeding into her skin. “Do you need anything? Water? Whiskey?”
She shook her head, sliding over on the bed. “Stay with me?”
His eyes widened in the darkness, but he didn’t move away from her. “Are you sure?”
Clarke held out a hand. She’d never been surer of anything. Despite her conflicting emotions and her unbridled desire for him, she knew his presence would temper her grief. With the stakes so high, she could keep her yearnings at bay. The darkness of the dream still clawed at her senses, drawing her into a tangled web of grief and despair. She needed him to ground her, to cast away her demons, if only for a night.
With a last lingering look he slipped wordlessly onto the mattress beside her. Clarke’s skin exploded in goosebumps where his bare torso brushed against her, but she ignored the sensation, relishing instead feeling of security he brought. He stiffened as his feet came into contact with the rough material of her jeans, twisting to meet her gaze.
“I have an extra T-shirt and pants, if you want?”
The question hung between for a long moment before she nodded. As much as she wanted to settle into the cocoon they’d created, her jeans were getting seriously uncomfortable. She tried to hide her sigh of loss as he pushed away from her, pulling the dresser drawer open and handing her a ball of material. She accepted the clothes silently, padding out of the room to change in the bathroom. Closing the bathroom, she took at steadying breath before splashing water over her face, not daring to glimpse her reflection in the mirror.
By the time she returned to the bed, he was already asleep, his breaths coming evenly in the quiet room. She carefully sidled in beside him, taking care not to disturb his slumber. The dark halo of his hair framed the stunning angles of his face and she took a moment to simply drink him in. She let her eyes roam over him, memorizing the strong cleft of his chin, the scar above his lip, the constellations of his freckles. It would all be over tomorrow, but in this moment, she could let down her guard, release her grief and simply be a woman discovering a man. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she settled next to him, curling into the heat of him. Her head rolling to rest on his shoulder as she prayed for dreamless sleep.
~*~
The glow of morning light wrested Clarke from her slumber hours later. The spot beside her on the bed was empty, but she could hear clattering emanating from the kitchen. She rolled off the bed, her toes luxuriating in the plush carpet as she made her way to the window. A fresh layer of snow blanketed the city and the sound of laugher filled the air. Learning forward, she could just make out snowballs sailing as a group of children passed below.
A smile traced her lips as she headed for the kitchen, steeling herself for the inevitable awkwardness of the encounter. To her surprise, an easy smile graced Bellamy’s full lips as he extended a mug of coffee to her. “I have tea too, but I figured you’d be a coffee drinker.”
“Thanks,” she murmured, dropping to sit in one of the chairs at the small kitchen table. “Sorry about last night.”
He shrugged, his muscled shoulders pulling against the white tee shirt stretched tightly across his chest. “I’ve been through worse. You sleep better after?”
“Yes. Thank you for…” she trailed off, not quite ready to acknowledge the intimacy of their sleeping arrangement.
Catching her meaning, he simply nodded. “So what’s on your agenda?”
“I have to work this afternoon back home in New Paltz.” She sighed glancing at the clock on the wall. “Which means I’ve got to get going.”
His expression dimmed, but he nodded his acceptance. “I’ll take you to Grand Central?”
“Sure.” She glanced down at his shirt and sweats. “I’ll just go change…” She turned away from him, pushing the sadness in his eyes from her memory. No matter the strength of their connection or the kindness he’d shown her, they had separate lives and Clarke was in no position to uproot her life for some man she’d just met.
She slowly changed back in the bedroom, taking the time to memorize the room. . Her jeans felt foreign, abrasive compared to the worn cotton of his pants as she pulled them on. She inhaled deeply, drinking in the scent of him, as she placed the tee shirt and pants in the clothes hamper. She sighed, blonde curls flying as she tried to clear her head and summon the power of will to leave the safe haven she’d only just discovered. As she reached down to pick up her sweater, which had been dropped haphazardly on a bookcase by the door, an embellished copy of the Odyssey caught her eye. Clarke had never managed to finish that epic back in high school, but maybe now she’d give it another go.
Clarke indulged herself with one last lingering glance before gathering her purse and heading into the hall. He’d pulled a dark green sweater over his white shirt and toed on brown boots. His peacoat hung over his shoulder, and his long fingers gripped his leather gloves. Clarke swallowed heavily.
“Ready?” he questioned, brushing invisible lint off his dark wash jeans as he moved toward the apartment door.
“Yeah.” She grabbed her red parka off the coat hook. His eyes lingered on hers as they stood before the door, the moment drawing out before he put a hand on the knob.
Soon they were lost in the festivity of the streets. As it was last day of the weekend before the holiday, shoppers bustled about, large red and green bags trailing behind them. Bellamy’s hand caught her own as they made their way through the crowds to the subway, catching the Lexington Avenue Express to Grand Central. Inside the central concourse of the train station, tourists swarmed, camera flashes exploding in every direction. He led her easily to the timetable for the Hudson line, cutting through the masses with ease of a local.
“Ten minutes,” she read, her stomach dropping to the floor. His expression was stoic as she glanced over at him, but he didn’t leave her side as Clarke headed for the ticket machines. It was only after they’d made their way down to Platform 40 where the train sat waiting, doors open for departure, that he finally broke the silence.
“Clarke.”
She looked up at him, losing herself in the depths of his luminous brown eyes. Her heart pounded in her chest as he took a step closer to her. She could see the swirl of brown in his eyes, the individual lashes shuttering them, even the hop of his pulse against the tan skin of his neck.
“I…” She paused, unsure of what to say. The five minute warning sounded beside them, reminding Clarke of her imminent departure.
One second she was catching her breath, the next his lips were on hers, hot and demanding. She gasped against him, allowing him to plunder the depths of her mouth. It was everything she’d imagined it could be and more. Her heart sang and her skin crackled with electricity, his touch setting her aflame. She moaned into his mouth, savoring the feel of his chapped lips melding into her own. Oh God. This was more than she’d ever expected, or imagined, she could feel.
He pulled away all too soon, his pants ghosting over her skin as he rested his forehead against hers. His fingers were tangled in her blonde tresses, clinging to her with a desperation that sent heat surging through her.
Bellamy took a deep breath as he trembled against her. He pulled back a fraction and Clarke’s breath caught as she met his hooded gaze, his eyes glazed with unmistakable desire.
“At least give me your number.” His voice was stained, needy.
She nodded vehemently. How foolish she had been to imagine this connection wasn’t worth fighting for. The man before her had talked her down from the depths of despair. How was he not worth holding on to?
He reluctantly released his grip on her, digging in his jeans pocket to find his phone. He thrust it toward her, his dark eyes promising earthly delights and safe passage through the coming storm. She quickly punched in her phone number, her fingers shaking as she tapped the screen.
The one minute warning sounded and he crushed her back to him, his arms wrapping around her to tangle in her hair. His lips ghosted over her ear as he rasped, “Please don’t leave me hanging, Princess.”
She gripped him tightly, clinging to him as if her life depended on it. “I won’t. I promise I won’t.”
And then she was out of his arms, the rush of cold so much more than just the platform air. His eyes held hers all the way onto the train, only losing their connection as the doors slid shut. The heat of his eyes haunted her as she dropped into an empty seat, her heat racing and blood pounding. Had that really just happened to her?
Her phone buzzed and she glanced down to read the message from an unknown number. Miss you already, Princess. – Bellamy Blake. Her fingers traced over the letters of his name as the train raced away from the station.