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Bellamy didn’t think - he just bent down and pressed his lips to hers. Hard. All he'd wanted was for her to shut up so he could think for a solid minute without her rational voice chattering on into his ear. He should have been concerned that this - kissing her - of all things was how he chose to quiet her, but his mind was too preoccupied with the feeling of Clarke’s lips against his.
Just as it occurred to him that he may have overstayed his welcome, a strange thing happened. Clarke relaxed. He felt it where his hand was splayed on her back. He felt it as her mouth moved tentatively against his, her head tilting imperceptibly so that their lips met at an angle.
And suddenly, he wasn’t just kissing her anymore.
She was kissing him back.
Bellamy shifted, his other hand coming to her waist to bring her closer. Her lips broke from his momentarily to murmur in agreement.
The small sound jolted them both back into awareness, and before Bellamy knew it, he was flat on his back with an aching jaw. He looked up in astonishment at Clarke’s equally stunned face.
“You punched me?!”
Clarke hadn’t moved from her spot on the ground. Her hands covered her mouth and she looked mildly sheepish. And her cheeks… red crept into her cheeks like a flower in bloom, and Bellamy could only stare. She was beautiful.
She mistook his trance for anger and held her hands out in peace. “I-I”m sorry. Shit.”
Bellamy still couldn’t believe she was blushing. He shook his head, wincing when his jaw protested. “That’s some right hook you’ve got there, princess.”
“I didn’t mean to,” she replied weakly. “It was just...instinct.”
“So you’re telling me Spacewalker had a sore jaw for several days, too?” He tried to force lightness into his voice, even though bringing up another dude was not particularly what he wanted to do at that moment.
Her eyes narrowed. “Finn didn’t sneak attack kiss me in the middle of the woods.”
“It wasn’t a sneak attack! You wouldn’t shut up. I asked you to and you wouldn’t, and I needed to think.”
“Oh really?” Clarke crossed her arms over her chest. “What extraordinary thinking did you get done just now?”
Bellamy’s head thudded back against the ground. “I’ll let you know when my pulse gets back to normal.”
He meant it as a reference to her punch, but when there was no smart reply, he glanced over. The flush was back. She was intently studying a patch of grass by her foot, but she was blushing deeply, and Bellamy grinned. He could get used to that.
As if she’d heard his thoughts, her head snapped up. He couldn’t hide his smile, and he didn’t want to. Clarke hit his leg lightly. “Shut up,” she warned.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Good.”
Bellamy muffled a laugh, finally pulling himself up to a sitting position. Opening his mouth, he tentatively tried stretching his jaw, wincing again at the pain. Clarke inched closer, her expression concerned.
“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll live.”
She rolled her eyes but reached out a hand anyways, her fingers gently pressing along his jaw. He knew she was already analyzing and cataloguing the bruise in her head. He let his gaze linger on her face, unabashedly studying her while she was distracted.
“It’s not broken,” she said after a moment. Then an eyebrow arched. “Next time you won’t be so lucky.”
Bellamy caught her hand before she could pull it away. “So there’s going to be a next time?”
He grinned, fully enjoying the redness that enveloped her face within seconds. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she yanked her hand away and stood up, stomping off without another word.
With a low chuckle, Bellamy heaved himself up to follow. Because he would always follow her. Even if she did break his jaw next time.