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Bellamy woke up with a pounding headache. He was certain there was a Grounder inside his skull, hacking away with some crazy tool. Opening his eyes to make sure that wasn’t actually the case, he winced at the bright light and immediately closed them again. Dark was better. Dark was somewhat less painful. Groaning, he shifted against the soft pillow under his head.
Wait. He wasn’t on the Ark anymore. He was on Earth. There were no pillows on Earth. So what was he laying on that was so comfortable?
A cool hand brushed over his cheek and his eyelids fluttered again. The light still burned too strongly, and pain lanced through his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and heard a sigh that wasn’t his.
Bellamy smiled. He’d know that sigh anywhere.
She had many sighs. This was her what am I going to do with you sigh. He relaxed a little. If she was here, then things couldn’t be so bad. Her fingers twisted absently into his hair, stroking gently. The sound that emerged from his throat was unfamiliar to him, and he heard her soft peal of laughter moments later.
“Did Bellamy Blake just purr?”
He chanced one eye open. Nope. Retinas still burning. Bellamy winced and put an arm over his eyes. Her hand stopped immediately, and he felt the ends of her long hair trail against his cheek as she leaned over him.
“Bellamy?”
The pressure in his temple was mounting again, and he reached up to grasp the hand in his hair. To his surprise and utter delight, she threaded her fingers through his.
“What is it?”
He pulled her hand back to his head, pressing insistently until she realized what he wanted. Letting go, her fingers wove back into his hair, this time applying gentle pressure to his scalp. He hummed in agreement and shifted on her lap - because of course the ‘soft pillow’ was actually Clarke’s lap. Turning away from the light, he pressed his face against her stomach. Her muscles twitched as she sucked in a breath, and her fingers stuttered for a few seconds.
“That tickles,” she whispered, but her hand resumed combing through his hair and he smiled to himself.
After a moment, he felt hair brush his cheek again. “Are you in too much pain?” She asked.
Shaking his head took too much effort, so he reached up to grasp her other hand, which was currently on his shoulder.
“No.”
“Liar.”
He chuckled, making her squirm again. “Clarke Griffin is ticklish,” he murmured. “Who knew?”
He could practically feel her shake her head in exasperation. But also knew there was a smile on her face. This would be her don’t you dare try smile. Her nails raked over his scalp and his hand tightened around hers. She continued the soothing motion.
“It’s the light, isn’t it?” She said a minute later.
“Yeah.”
“I thought so.” Her hand slipped out from under his as she reached for something nearby. There was the rush of fabric, and then the brightness behind his eyelids dimmed. “How’s that?”
He peeked an eye open and sighed gratefully when he wasn’t immediately blinded. Blinking carefully, he slowly registered the sight of her familiar blue shirt. And the tiniest sliver of pale white skin at her waist. He wondered if it was as soft as it looked.
“You’re an idiot, you know that right?”
Bellamy’s gaze shifted upwards, past a curtain of blonde hair to Clarke’s worried blue eyes.
“So you keep telling me,” he replied. “Remind me what it was this time?”
She rolled her eyes, not quite hiding her concern. “A gift from a very pissed off Grounder. What the hell were you thinking, insulting their princess?”
“They insulted mine first,” he replied. Her eyes widened at mine, and he bit his tongue. It’s not like it wasn’t true. It was just the first time he’d said so. Out loud.
He closed his eyes again. Her fingers hadn’t stopped the entire time. “We have to live with these people, Bellamy. You can’t take offense on my behalf every time, or you’ll end up in a full body cast.”
Then, in a voice so quiet he wondered if he’d imagined it, she added, “It’s sweet of you. Stupid, but sweet.”
He savored that for a moment, then said, “I think that’s the first time anyone’s ever called me sweet.”
“The same can’t be said for stupid,” came her dry response.
His laughter echoed in the small room, and he looked up to see Clarke finally smiling. “Hey, princess.” He couldn’t quite keep the adoration out of his voice. Because he did. He adored her. Clarke had turned him into someone who adored.
Her gaze softened, but she wasn’t done scolding. “Don’t ‘hey princess’ me. You could have a concussion, or worse.”
“Is that your official diagnosis?”
Her eyes narrowed. “My official diagnosis is that you’re an idiot.”
Bellamy grinned. “So you keep saying.” His hand found hers again. “And yet you’re still here.”
“Of course I am. Someone needs to keep an eye on you. Seeing as you’re too busy looking out for everyone else.”
Her fingers brushed against a particularly sensitve spot on his head, and he hissed in pain, closing his eyes again and burrowing into her lap. Her arm draped around his shoulder, and he felt her curl until her hair spilled down over his shoulders. He was surrounded by the scent of her, and it lulled him into relaxing.
There was the lightest brush of lips against his forehead, followed by “idiot,” but her grip remained tight.
“I don’t see why he was so upset,” Bellamy grumbled. “It’s not like I shot him.”
When there was no response, he twisted his head slightly to look up. Her face was closer than he’d expected, and for a moment he got distracted studying the small birthmark at the corner of her mouth.
Then he realized she was watching him. “I didn’t shoot him, did I?” He asked.
"No, you didn't." There was a slight smugness to her grin. “But I did.”
At his incredulous look, she rolled her eyes.
“He’ll be fine, it was just a flesh wound.”
His eyebrows lifted so high he was surprised they didn’t jump off his face. “Just a flesh wound,” he repeated slowly.
Her teeth bared in a wolfish grin, and Bellamy’s pulse skyrocketed. “Yes. His precious anatomy, however, will take a bit longer to recover from my boot.”
He blinked up at her in wonder, unable to believe his ears. When his voice finally returned, he said, “And they just let us walk out of there?”
Clarke shrugged. “Lucky for you, Lexa admires loyalty. And strong women. Plus, I threw that ‘blood for blood’ right back at her,” she said smugly, and he couldn’t help but grin at his princess’ sheer force of will.
His fingers traced her cheek in awe. “You are amazing,” he murmured, delighting in the color that bloomed on her face. He leaned up, and when she didn’t move away, he closed the remaining distance between them. His lips touched hers once, twice, a soft caress more than anything else.
“What do you know,” he murmured. “My princess defended my honor.”
There it was again. My. But she didn’t seem to mind very much.
“Don’t get used to it,” she said, but Bellamy saw right through her bluff.
“You know, I just might.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. His skull chose that moment to flare in pain, and he groaned, cursing every Grounder that existed. Clarke shushed him, her hand pressing against his temples, and his eyes drifted shut again. Her lips pressed against his cheek.
“Sleep, you idiot,” she whispered.
Her fingers stroked his face as she began to hum quietly, an old tune he recognized from childhood. Calm flooded through him and he fell asleep to the sound of her voice.