Work Text:
The first time that she does it, Bellamy writes it off. It happened and he doesn’t dwell on it – either he misheard her or she’s drunker than he thought she was.
The second time she does it, she throws him a little smirk afterwards.
When it happens a third time, Bellamy decides that she’s doing it on purpose.
Clarke’s sitting on his kitchen counter, ankles crossed and a smile on her face, the picture of innocence when he turns to look at her.
“Did you just call me ‘Bologna’?” he asks.
“Why would I do that, Bellamy?” She’s still smiling at him and he decides, yeah, she’s fucking with him.
“I don’t know, Princess,” he says, leaning back against the counter. “Why would you do that?”
Clarke shrugs. “Beats me. And if there’s no reason for me to do it, why would I?” She hops off the counter and grabs the bowl of chips Bellamy had been filling. “C’mon, Bologna, game night awaits.”
He stares at her back for a minute before shaking his head and grabbing his beer, following her back into the living room.
She makes a point to emphasize his name whenever she says it for the rest of the night and smiles brightly whenever Bellamy raises a brow at her.
When Miller asks him what’s up he just shakes his head and grumbles something about “the Princess.”
***
“Hey, Princess, can you hand me that wrench?” Bellamy asks. He’s at her and Raven’s apartment, trying to fix their sink. Miller’s sitting by his feet, flashlight in one hand and his phone in the other, a YouTube tutorial playing loudly off of it.
“Sure, Bellini.”
Bellamy accepts the wrench when she hands it to him and Miller pauses the video. “Did you call him ‘Bellini?”
“I called him Bellamy,” Clarke says, sounding so sure of herself that Bellamy thinks maybe she did just say his name.
“You definitely didn’t,” Miller says. “You called him “Bellini”.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miller. His name is Bellamy. I called him Bellamy.”
“Okay,” Miller says, still skeptical, as he starts the video back up.
It takes them another twenty minutes to fix the sink and when they’re done, Clarke hugs them both at the door. “Thank you so much! You really didn’t have to, we could have called a plumber-“
“It was no problem, Princess,” Bellamy cuts her off, smiling. “You can just buy us a round the next time we go out.”
They’re halfway out the door when she says, “Sounds good, Bellini.”
The door closes behind them and it’s quiet for a second before Miller says, “She definitely called you ‘Bellini’.”
“Thank god you heard it, too,” Bellamy says. “She’s been doing it for almost a month. I thought I just misheard her the first few times, but then she called me ‘Bologna’ at game night last week and denied it and I was starting to think I was going crazy.”
“What did you do to her?” Miller asks.
“I didn’t do anything!” Bellamy says. “We haven’t even argued about anything in months.” Miller gives him a look and he amends, “Anything significant. We bicker and shit, but we’re good as far as I know.”
“Maybe she figured out you’re into her and this is her way of telling you to fuck off.”
“Fuck you,” Bellamy says. “I’m not into her. She’s just trying to fuck with me for some reason.”
Miller rolls his eyes. “I think I liked it better when you were at each other’s throats all the time. It was less weird.”
***
“Come on, Bellamey, you’re such a fun sucker."
“You’re slipping in your drunkenness, Princess, that one wasn’t even original,” he says, shifting so that his arm is more fully around Clarke. She’s leaning heavily against him and he squeezes her hip when her heads starts lolling to the side. “It’s only a few more blocks.”
“That’s so far,” Clarke whines. “I’m so drunk.”
Bellamy rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling when he says, “Yeah, that’s why I made you leave.”
“I was having fun!” When Bellamy shushes her, she continues, quieter, “You’re so lame, Bellamey.”
“Yeah, well,” he says, struggling a little as Clarke slumps against him even more, “Everyone else left, the bar was closing, and you almost got into two fights in the last half hour. You might have been having fun, but it was time to leave.”
Clarke mumbles something and he stops at the intersection. “Okay, change of plans,” he says. “You’re coming back to my place since it’s closer. I’ll just sleep on the couch.”
“Such a gentleman, Bellamey,” Clarke slurs.
“This is why you shouldn’t play drinking games,” Bellamy says. She huffs and Bellamy laughs quietly.
The rest of the walk is silent aside from Bellamy’s occasional encouragement for her to keep walking and they’re at his door within ten minutes. It takes a few seconds of maneuvering for Bellamy to get his keys out and his door unlocked and then he’s setting Clarke down on his bed. When Bellamy asks if she can get her shoes off she flops backward onto the bed and raises one of her feet.
“Yeah, I figured,” he mutters. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”
She’s in the same spot when he returns with a glass of water, some aspirin, and an empty garbage can. He sets the garbage down next to the bed and then grabs Clarke’s hand, tugging gently. “Come on, Princess, stay with me for a few more minutes.”
She sits up and takes the water and aspirin from him, drinking half the glass while he gets her shoes off. When he’s done she hands him the glass and looks at him with her head cocked to the side.
“I know you know my name is actually Clarke,” she says, quiet, like she’s telling him a secret.
“What?”
“You call me ‘Princess’ all the time and at first I thought it was just to annoy me,” she says. She lays back down on the bed again as she continues, “But then you started being less of an asshole and you kept calling me it so I thought you just forgot my name.”
“Is that why you’ve been calling me things that sound like my name?” Bellamy asks, amused.
It’s as if Clarke didn’t hear him. “Why do you still call me it?”
Bellamy clenches his jaw as he tries to figure out a response, finally settling on, “I didn’t know it bothered you.”
Clarke’s tone is petulant and she’s got a frown on her face when she says, “I’m not your princess.”
“No,” Bellamy says, flushing a little, “You’re not. I’ll stop calling you it, if you want me to.”
She looks at him for a minute, still petulant but a little sad now, too, before scooting to the top of the bed and getting herself under the blankets. Once she’s settled, she says, “I’ll stop calling you Bellamey.”
He huffs out a little laugh. “Good night, Clarke,” he says, tucking the blanked around her and turning toward the door.
She grabs his hand and tugs, stopping him, her voice quiet when she asks, “Stay?”
He doesn’t answer and she tugs on his hand again. “Please.”
“Yeah,” he says, letting out a deep breath. “Yeah, okay.”
***
When he wakes up Clarke’s draped across his chest, one leg tangled with his, and her hair is in his mouth. He uses his left arm to get it out because his right is pinned underneath her. The movement makes her stir and she groans a bit, lifting her head to look at him in confusion for a few seconds.
“Morning.”
She opens her mouth to respond and then her face turns red and she drops her head back to his chest. “I’m so, so sorry,” she says, muffled against his shirt. “Fuck. I was so drunk. Did I punch that guy?”
Bellamy laughs and tugs at the ends of her hair. “No, but it was pretty close.”
“Fuck,” she says again, still not looking at him. “I’m sorry you got stuck dealing with me.”
“It’s not a problem, Princess,” he says, and then almost immediately follow it with, “Sorry. Clarke. It’s not a problem, Clarke.”
He feels her tense before she pushes off of him, getting out of the bed and not looking at him. “Yeah, but still,” she says, grabbing her shoes, “You shouldn’t have had to.”
“Clarke?” he asks, sitting up. “Is something wrong?”
“No, everything’s fine.” Her voice is tight and when she reaches for her phone on the nightstand he leans over, wrapping his fingers around her wrist.
“Hey, seriously,” he says, “What happened? You were fine a second ago.”
“Nothing happened, I’m fine,” she says, tugging out of his grip. “I just don’t wanna put you out any more than I already have.”
He huffs. “You haven’t put me out, Prin- Clarke.”
“Stop that,” she snaps, finally turning to look at him. She’s red again, but she crosses her arms and glares at him.
“You told me not to call you ‘Princess’ anymore,” he says slowly, wrinkling his brow at her anger. “Last night. You said that’s why you’ve been fucking up my name.”
“I didn’t say that!”
“Yes, you did,” he says. His voice hardens as the sting of the night before comes back to him and he moves to stand in front of her. “I asked if it bothered you and said I’d stop calling you it if it did.”
“I didn’t say that it bothered me. I just said that I wasn’t your princess.” She’s not looking at him anymore, shifting her weight from one foot to the other while Bellamy stares.
“I didn’t- did you want to be?” he asks, voice incredulous.
Clarke doesn’t answer.
“Am I still drunk? I know I didn’t drink as much as you did, but I really don’t understand what’s going on.”
She cracks, laughing a little and the tension in Bellamy’s shoulders drains.
“This might not have been my best plan,” Clarke admits.
“I still don’t even understand what your plan was.”
“I was annoyed that you kept calling me ‘Princess’ after we were friends because you always said it to annoy me,” Clarke says. “And then Raven was like ‘he says it in an endearing way, like you’re his princess’ which just got me even more upset because I’m not. So, I decided to just start saying your name wrong every time you called me it and I thought you might work it out and stop.”
“That’s putting a lot of faith in me. I never would have figured that out,” Bellamy says. He’s still standing in front of her and she’s still not looking at him so he tilts her chin up. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
He smirks a little and says, “Basically what I got from that was you were pissed because Raven said I was calling you ‘Princess’ endearingly and you wanted me to be calling you it while making out with you.”
Clarke blushes and pushes at his chest. “That is not what I said.”
“That’s what I’m getting, though.”
“You know, you could be a little clearer with your feelings on this,” Clarke says, looking away again.
“I definitely wanna call you ‘Princess’ while making out,” Bellamy says, prompt. “Miller thought you were fucking up my name because you realized I’m into you and that was your way of telling me to fuck off.”
Clarke grins and says, “No, I definitely didn’t realize you’re into me. And I would have just told you to fuck off.”
“Yeah, like the way you so clearly told me why you didn’t like me calling you ‘Princess’.”
“Shut up,” she says, reaching up and rests her arms around his neck. She tugs him closer.
Bellamy leans down, pausing centimeters away from her mouth, teasing. “Does this mean I can call you ‘Princess’ again?”
Clarke doesn’t answer, just meets his lips with her own. When Bellamy pulls away, he’s grinning. “I’m taking that as a yes, Princess.”