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She was Clarke. Clarke Griffin. The internal medicine physician. The one always ready for whatever blasted situation was thrown at her.
But gods, she wasn’t ready to get sick herself.
It came over her quickly, as they usually do. One day she was out and about, the next, she was bedridden, body aching, fever rising.
At first, Clarke had tried taking care of herself. She called in the early afternoon before work, telling them her situation, and padded to the kitchen. Looking in the refrigerator, she found nothing satisfying to eat. She checked the cupboards, and came up with the same result. What was it with Raven and never buying groceries? Clarke reasoned with herself, thinking that she guessed she could stand to do shopping once in awhile, but Raven was better with food anyways. The best item Clarke could cook was macaroni and cheese, Annie’s style.
So instead of eating, Clarke huddled in her snuggie, and turned on some Planet Earth. And sometime between the polar bears roaming the great Arctic and the baby ducks jumping from the treetops, Clarke began to dive deep into a chimera.
Her apartment’s walls became suffocating, the TV was too loud, and her snuggie was too hot. She squirmed, muttering under her breath, trying to escape the confinements of her body. She was just so uncomfortable , and she didn’t know how to fix it.
Tottering on her feet, Clarke heard a door open as she attempted to rip off her shirt. But that was difficult, considering her snuggie was still wrapped around her.
Whipping back and forth, eyesight obscured by layers of fabric, Clarke tried to take in her surroundings.
“Who’s there? Who’s there? Answer me!” She raised her hands, ready to karate chop anyone that got near her.
“Clarke?” the voice rumbled through her her head. She could sense someone approaching, and Clarke’s anxiety started to skyrocket.
“Don’t get any closer!” she kicked out in front of her, momentarily losing her balance. She began to fall backwards, and somehow landed softly onto the couch. “I can take you,” she muttered, still punching the air. Her eyelids felt heavy, and the couch was enveloping her, welcoming her, hugging her.
“Clarke, are you okay?” That voice , Clarke thought. It was familiar. Sparrow? Jay? “Let’s try and get you out of this…” it muttered. Oh!
“Raven!” Clarke shouted with glee, once she remembered her name. Clarke’s vision returned once Raven removed the snuggie from Clarke’s head, pulling down her Tshirt back down her chest.
“You’re radiating heat, Clarke. We need to get you into bed. Have you eaten?”
Clarke frowned. “You’re a mechanic.”
“I know that.”
“I am not a machine.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Clarke sat up, insulted She tried to state her feelings, but her mouth felt dry, and tongue too large. Instead, she just waved her hands. “I’m fine. I am the doctor. I fix humans .” Hopefully that was enough for Raven to understand.
Her friend snorted. “Fine. But let’s at least get you to bed. A broken car shouldn’t be left on the street, it should stay in the garage.”
Clarke couldn’t argue with that logic, much less any logic, at this point in time. She let Raven pull her up and off the couch, and she plopped onto the bed. It was like feathers danced around her, and Clarke laughed, enjoying the touch of the soft clouds on her dry skin. She hugged them, breathing in their freshly-washed scent.
“You need to drink something,” Raven said. It was a statement, a demand. But Clarke ignored her.
“Did hear about the guy that lost his left arm and leg in a car crash?” she asked Raven, turning over in her bed. She pointed to the ceiling. “He’s alright now!” she convulsed into laughter once more. It hurt her head, her stomach, her everything, but damn! Was that a clever joke.
“God, Clarke…” Raven muttered under her breath. “You know what, be this way. It’s already seven o’clock anyways. Just sleep on it tonight, and maybe you’ll let me help in the morning.”
Clarke continued to chuckle to herself, remembering another good pun. Where did Raven go? She should hear this one. Clarke sat up, looking around. Raven was gone. Clarke was all alone. A wave of exhaustion hit her, and Clarke toppled back on the sea of pillows, letting them coax her into a deep sleep.
She couldn’t fully recall her dream, but it was definitely confusing. At her mom’s house, Clarke sat perfectly straight in a perfectly white dress, trying to remember which fork to eat her soup with. Abby sat across the miles-long table, cutting her food as her dad stood next to her, one hand on the back of the chair.
Clarke stood up, mind clearer than it has ever been before.
“Dad!” she called out, and as the table disappeared before her, leaving the coast clear for her to run towards her parents. But she couldn't ever reach them; they always stayed just out of reach, her dad extending his arms, waiting for a hug she’ll never be able to give, as her mother watched indifferently.
“Mom, help!” Clarke shouted, angry. But her mom stayed stone-faced, as she took her husband's hand and walked away from their daughter. The floor fell underneath her, and Clarke numbly smacked into dense sand.
Not minding the sand that clung to her thighs, Clarke stood up, her white dress transformed into a long, blue gown that danced in the wind. “Mom? Dad?” The beach was endless, a perfect temperature. The sun was just starting to descend down the horizon.
“Clarke?”
She turned, a smile forming onto her lips. “Bellamy!” She ran to him, jumping into his arms. He smelled... She wasn't sure of what, but it was definitely Bellamy. Her best friend, her savior, her debate partner. She pulled away from him, still closer than she usually dared to be with him. But this was it. Finally, the time to tell him how she really felt.
“There’s no need,” Bellamy said, voice low. “I already know.” Clarke startled, but was overjoyed. Bellamy leaned down, and Clarke leaned upward—
But then her arms were empty, and she fell forward, splashing into the ocean. Reaching the surface, Clarke couldn't spot the land. “Bellamy?” she yelled out. “Bellamy!”
Her gown was pulling her, the weight of the water dragging her down. Soon she was submerged, head underwater. She gargled. “Bellamy! Bellamy!”
She started shaking, the water becoming tumultuous around her. It was too much, shaking too hard—
“Clarke, wake up!” Clarke opened her eyes with an effort, the sleep crusting around her lids. Her bland ceiling welcomed her.
“Bellamy?” she asked, hopeful.
“Shit,” Raven answered. “You’re fever must have spiked. You need to eat something, drink something.”
“I thought Bellamy…” Clarke was too tired to keep talking, and drifted off to sleep once more. She heard Raven swear, and then the unlocking of an iPhone.
Through the door, “That’s really how you answer a call, Blake?”
A breeze brushed Clarke’s cheek. Her eyes fluttered open, taking in the soft light reaching passed her thin curtains. She was tucked neatly into bed, the pillow perfectly fluffed for her head.
She felt a movement next her to head, and when she turned, she saw Bellamy’s hand retreating from her face.
“Clarke?” he asked, eyes clouded with worry. He was kneeling beside her bed, making him eye level as he leaned over her covers, chin resting on her elbow. His hair was messy, mopping all over his forehead, as if he had been rushing around without a moment to take care of himself.
Clarke tried to speak, but the only sound that came out was a guttural squeal. She tried again. “Bell?” Again, it was only a croak. Bellamy jumped up to attention right away, grabbing a glass of water on her nightstand. He helped her sit up, pushing the water to her, fixing the straw so she could easily drink.
Finally able to form words, Clarke blinked up at Bellamy. He smiled back, hesitant.
“You feeling better?”
Clarke’s mind was racing in molasses. What day was it? What time was it? Where was Raven? What was Bellamy doing here?
She reached out weakly, hand grasping towards her best friend. Bellamy took hold, and it grounded her.
“Is everything alright?” she finally asked as Bellamy kneeled on the ground once more.
Bellamy chuckled that wonderful deep laugh of his. “Of course you would ask that.”
Clarke stared, dumbfounded, until she connected the dots. Bellamy must have… She was caught in a wave of gratitude, then outmost shame. Pulling her hand away, she covered her face in embarrassment. “Oh god, I must have been a mess!”
Bellamy rubbed her back, and damn did that feel good. She instantly relaxed to his touch. Bellamy must have noticed this, as he commented, “yeah, you liked that when you were sick too.”
Clarke looked to him. “How long have you been here?”
Bellamy shrugged, standing up with a crack of his knees. About 22 hours or so. I guess you just had a 24-hour thing going on.”
Clarke kicked off her sheets. “Twenty-two hours? Bellamy! What about your job?”
He flicked a hand in the air. “I don’t teach on Thursdays, Clarke. But calm down, you never answered my question,” he stopped her from standing up. “How are you feeling?”
Clarke stopped to self-analyze. “I feel… good,” she said honestly. She tried to stand up, keeping a wary eye on Bellamy, challenging him to tell her to sit back down. He didn’t, and although she was a bit shaky on her feet, she knew she was fine. Bellamy smiled at her for a long moment, and Clarke just smiled back, until she realized what exactly she was wearing. Turning her head, she cleared her throat. “Um, you mind if I change? I can meet you in the living room.”
Bellamy’s neck turned red. He averted his gaze, stumbling backwards. “Oh, yeah, sure. Of course. I’ll see you then… well, you said that, um… yeah. I’ll be out there.” He retreated from her room.
Switching from her boxers and Tshirt for a pair of leggings and a loose tank top, Clarke emerged and walked to the living room. Bellamy was sitting on the couch, staring at his hands, fidgeting. Once he saw her, he sprang to his feet.
He smiled. “Well, I am glad you are doing better.” He looked down, the smile becoming more forced. “I must’ve overstayed my welcome, so I’ll see you later, Clarke. Call me if you need anything.” He made to walk to the door, but Clarke stopped him.
Standing in front of him, she scowled upwards. “ Overstayed your welcome ?” She repeated. “Bellamy Blake, there is no way in hell you could overstay your welcome in my house! What a ludicrous idea! Now sit back down, and let me get you some ice cream.” She shoved him towards the couch, and without waiting for a reply, she stalked to the kitchen. She heard a mumble from his general direction as she prepared two bowls of Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food ice cream.
“What was that?” she asked sweetly as she placed one bowl in front of Bellamy.
“Hmm?” he asked as Clarke settled next to him on the couch. She gave him a pointed stare. He grumbled. “Just that you must be feeling better if you can boss me around,” he relented. Clarke goffed. He smirked. “I meant it in the best possible way.”
“Oh, sure,” Clarke muttered, stuffing a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. They ate in comforting silence.
“So is this a thank you gift for taking care of your stubborn ass?” Bellamy asked when he finished the helping.
Clarke laughed. “Guess so. But i should also say it myself; thank you, Bellamy Blake.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes. She reached over to grab his chin lightly, turning his head to her. “Really. Bellamy, thank you, for everything. For taking care of me, for being you.”
Bellamy blinked, startled. “Clarke…”
She let go of his face, but remained close to his body. Heat radiated from him as he swallowed. “What is it?”
He smiled. “You said almost the same exact thing before you fell asleep last night.”
Shit, Clarke thought. That wasn’t too bad, but what else could I have said? She leaned back, thinking, but Bellamy stopped her.
“You know what else you said?” Bellamy asked, almost echoing her thoughts. She was terrified, but he seemed confident. Typically, he was always slightly hesitant around her, as if he never knew for sure how much love she had for him, how much trust she constantly place in him.
“What?” she asked.
Bellamy’s eyes shifted from her lips back to her eyes. “That I’m the one… that I’m the one you want,” he said, so quiet that she almost missed it.
“Yeah?” She asked, unsure how this was going. She couldn’t believe she had admitted that in her delirium, but Bellamy was her closest person in her life. Whatever happened next, everything would be alright.
“I want you to know that you’re the one I want too,” he said. Clarke’s eyes widened. Maybe this wasn’t actually happening. Maybe it was another dream, and Bellamy would simply disappear from her grasp once more, out of her reach.
Bellamy didn’t let her think about it any longer, as he proved how tangible he really was. He closed the distance between them, meeting his sweet lips with hers, sneaking a hand to her back, pulling her into his lap. Clarke’s eyes closed as she took in the moment, frozen in happiness. Too much was happening, her body didn’t know how to react. She just wanted to feel this forever, Bellamy Blake kissing her.
Unfortunately, just sitting there wasn’t the right move, as Bellamy pulled back. “I’m sorry, I just thought… I guess I was wrong,” he tried to let her climb off of his lap.
“What? Bellamy, wrong about what?” Clarke was confused.
“Well, you weren’t exactly kissing me back,” he said, looking up at the ceiling. Clarke could see his eyes were watering.
God, I am an idiot. And so is he. “Jesus, Bellamy, I was just sick, cut me some slack,” she chastised him. Before he could react, she grabbed his shirt and smashed them together, kissing him for all she was worth. Bellamy kissed back after a moment, hand supporting her head, the other sweeping up and down her back. She couldn’t get enough of him, she tugged at his soft hair, relishing in the curls, shoved her hands under his shirt, tried to get closer to him.
Bellamy pulled back, his puppy smile plastered on his face, eyes shining with happiness and joy, and love. He kissed her nose, her neck, then pulled her close for a tight hug.
“I meant it,” Clarke said as she nuzzled into the crook of his neck. “Just so you know. I do want you.”
“Yeah, I know,” Bellamy said, and she could hear his voice reverberate through his body as he did so. “You may have also said I was the best. Can’t argue with that argument.”
Clarke pulled back, smacking his chest. “Bellamy Blake! You arrogant—”
She didn’t have the chance to finish her rebuttal.