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The bed is still warm with his body heat, blankets mussed after she'd rolled atop him to try and keep him there a little longer. Echo pushes into it now, into what they somehow determined, without any discussion, was "his side."
She reaches an arm across his pillow, stretching her lithe form, determined to take as long as possible to leave their comfy cocoon.
"Shit."
Her eyes snap open at the soft hiss of a curse, her head tilting up just enough to see down the bed and into the tiny alcove of their bathroom. And she can't help but smile, her worried frown melting away.
Bellamy catches her amused eyes in the mirror and snorts. He watches, almost mesmerized, as she pushes up and somehow gets out of bed with such a smooth grace he'd be frightened of her if he didn't believe 100% that she cared for him - for all of them.
She pads softly over to him as he tries to staunch the bleeding along his jaw, and he nearly shivers at the light touch of her fingers gliding down his back. She pushes herself between his body and the wall, the roundness of her breast pressed against his arm. It's a tight fit, but she's thin, so much thinner than she was when they first made it up here five years ago.
As he straightens she takes hold of his chin, turning his head in the small overhead light, careful of the wound. She grins, shaking her head slowly. "You could save yourself the pain."
He returns her grin. "What? And not shave?"
"It's not needed," she says with a shrug. "Unless you like trying to look like a boy."
He pulls his face back at that, her fingers falling away from him, his pride a little bruised. One thing he's learned about her through the years, she was definitely not afraid to say what she thought. It wasn't something anyone took well to in the beginning - except maybe Murphy and Emori - but years later it's not only seen as just her, but it's helped them all at one time or another. It's easier to get through things once you start to accept facts, as much as you don't to hear them.
She looks up at him apologetically, but her head tilts in a way that says "c'mon". With an amused huff he turns to face her, creating more space between them. But that just won't do. He wants to feel her, her warmth and presence. Remind himself that he's not alone, and that he has someone there to lean on in private, vulnerable moments.
"Most of the men I've known in my life had beards," she explains. "Only boys were usually clean shaven."
He only nods, pulling her closer.
Her hands slide up his chest and around his neck. "Not that there's anything boyish about you anywhere else."
He barks out a laugh, mingling with her own It's a ridiculous thing to say, like a cheesy line in one of the romances he'd found under his mother's bed. But it restores his pride nonetheless.
She studies him a moment before lathering up some of the cream he uses to shave. To be honest, he's not entirely sure what it is. One of Monty's greatest prides up here. Bellamy's just grateful he doesn't have to eat it.
She smoothes it across the left side of his face, Bellamy turning his head to accommodate her. She rinses off her hands and picks up the little blade. He's surprised at how confident she is at this, no shaky hands or worried glances anywhere, just a furrowed brow of concentration. He wonders if she's ever done this for anyone else before and is instantly met with a stomach curling feeling of jealousy. It's stupid, he knows. But he can't really help the sudden possessiveness he's feeling.
He trails his hands down her hips slowly, not trying to alert her in any way, until they're at the edge of her sleeping shirt - his shirt. Her skin is warm, always so warm, which he loves to joke about as she hailed from the ice nation. She just replies that she had to be warm to survive such a harsh climate, and he wonders if she's talking about more than the weather. They've spoken a bit about her home, about her childhood, but never in any sort of depth, because even she can see how angry it makes him.
As his fingers start their journey back up, they ever so slowly begin taking the hem of her shirt with them.
"You better stop that right now," she warns, without even a hint of playfulness. But he knows her well enough.
"Yeah?" She continues to shave him, going about her work like she isn't affected by him at all. But still, he knows her.
"Yes. Unless you want another cut on your pretty boy face."
He grabs her wrist, halting her in her movements as he looks down at her with seriousness. That wasn't a line she made up on her own. In fact, he knows exactly where it came from having it hurled at him by Murphy at some point or another.
Fingers still wrapped around her wrist, he points at her. "That was too far."
She lifts her chin, pushing closer. "What are you going to do about it?"
For a moment neither of them move, the air charged with so much electricity he swears he can feel it snap around them.
As quick as he can, because he knows no matter how fast he is, she's always faster, he drops her wrist, hand flying to the nape of her neck to push her forward. He leans in, face brushing past hers till he slides it back, smearing the shaving cream across her cheek.
She squeaks and hollers girlishly - sounds he never thought he'd hear from her years before - pushing him away as best she can, but the one and only thing he always has over her is strength, holding her closer.
"No! Bellamy!"
He leans his head away to look at his work, and green tinted cream is slathered all over the right side of her face, some even in her hair.
They breathe hard in each others faces, Echo squirming in his hold.
"Bellamy," she warns, "let me go right now or I swear-"
"What are you gonna do about it?" he challenges with a devilish grin, trying not to laugh at the little dollop of cream at the tip of her nose.
She tilts her head, giving him such a look that if this had been five years before it would have shook him to his core.
And it goes on so long he does start to worry, thinking about all his vulnerable spots he's leaving open to her. He might have strength on his side, but she definitely has the training and speed.
So he's shocked when instead, she closes the already short space between their lips, pushing against his almost punishingly. He feels her tongue demanding entrance and gives it without hesitance. And for a while all there is, is the short heavy sound of their breathing between the long silences as they kiss.
It's fun and comforting, like everything else between them. He's reached a point in their relationship where he's grateful for her being here. Not just here on the ring, that he'd been grateful for the moment they arrived, but here with him. He's happy despite the constant worrying and claustrophobia he feels. And for once in his life, he doesn't feel guilty about it.
But he soon gives in and stops thinking, allowing himself to be distracted by the feel of her pressed up against him, and her fingers as they card through his hair before grasping at the long strands. Then she's gone, and he falls forward at the suddenness of it, catching himself on the wall.
He turns to her and sees the smirk that lets him know he got played. "That was dirty."
She shrugs nonchalantly, turning back to their bed. "I always tell you to be prepared for anything."
He grunts, following her over. "I doubt anyone else is gonna use that against me."
"It's called distraction and manipulation, and it happens all the time." S
She crawls onto his lap after he sits beside her, arms circling around his neck.
"Are you saying everyone here is manipulating me to get what they want?"
She offers a smile, before leaning in and placing a soft kiss on his forehead. "You're too good."
"Good?"
"Kind," she rephrases. "Bellamy Blake will give his loved ones anything they ask for."
He groans, locking his hands around the backs of her knees as he turns them around, dropping them both on the mattress with a bounce, making her giggle.
"Well, I'm not gonna argue that point, so how about I just give you everything you want right now."
She looks up with a self satisfied expression. "I knew I'd get you back in bed."