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It starts with a headache. Just a dull throbbing at the back of Clarke’s head. That’s fine, she’s fine, she’ll finish the day and go home and take a nap. Just a headache. She tries to focus on what her professor is saying instead of the steadily increasing pain in her skull.
By the time class is over, it feels like someone’s trying to split her skull open with a hammer. She’s torn between going to her next class or just going home and collapsing in bed. A sharp pain stabs through her head and she winces. Home it is. She massages her temple as she walks through the campus toward her dorm, pulling out her phone and dialing Octavia’s number.
“Hey!” Octavia chirps through the phone, causing Clarke to wince.
“Hey.” Clarke’s voice sounds strained, pain adding a bite to the word.
“You ok?” her friend asks, picking up on the strange tone instantly.
“Uh, no, started feeling pretty shitty actually. I’m not gonna make it to Lit, can you make sure to take notes for me? I just really need to go lie down I think,” Clarke sighs, entering her dorm building.
“Yeah, of course. Are you alright? Should I tell Bellamy to come back?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” Clarke insists. “Just a headache. Bell has American M&R, he’ll be home after that. Don’t wanna worry him. Thanks, O.”
“Sure thing. Feel better, babe.” They say their goodbyes as Clarke unlocks her door, sighing as she drops her bag to the floor and sets her phone on the coffee table. She doesn’t even make it to the bedroom, crashin on the couch and falling asleep almost instantly.
She feels hot when she wakes up, a too-warm hand on her forehead. She whines and slaps the offending arm away, eyes still closed.
“Hey babe,” Bellamy’s low voice rumbles. “How’re you feeling?” Clarke blinks her eyes open, focusing in on Bellamy’s concerned face. The apartment is dark. Darker than it should be. Clarke sits up, eyes wide. She groans as her head spins and Bellamy gently pushes her back.
“Shit what time is it?” Clarke asks, hand flying up to her forehead.
“6:28,” Bellamy tells her and her eyes snap open again.
“What?!” she shrieks, pushing Bellamy off her and sitting up, ignoring the way her skull pounds in protest. “Bellamy, I have Comp-Sci!” Bellamy pushes her back as she tries to stand up, meeting her gaze firmly.
“No what you have is a fever. You’re burning up,” he informs her sternly. “I asked Monty to take notes for you already.”
“But-” Clarke starts to protest, to say she’s fine. But Bellamy shakes his head, not giving her the chance.
“You’re not going anywhere, Princess. Just stay here, I made you some soup,” Bellamy orders, easing her further onto her back.
“But Bellamy-”
“No buts. You’re sick, and for once I’m gonna be the one to take care of you ,” he teases lightly, standing up and walking over to their little kitchenette. Clarke closes her eyes and leans back, too tired to argue with him anyway. He returns a few moments later with a bowl of canned chicken soup, which Clarke accepts with a grateful smile, sitting up.
“Campbell’s, huh?” She comments after taking a sip. “I see we’re going gourmet then.” Bellamy lets out a low chuckle, rubbing her back as she leans into his side. “Thank you, Bell.”
“Anything for you Princess,” he murmurs. They sit in silence for a few minutes before Clarke remembers, eyes widening as she pulls herself up and off of him.
“Wait, Bellamy! You were going to go out tonight- to do that trivia night thing with Murphy and Raven,” Clarke reminds him, instantly feeling guilty.
“Correction- we were going to go out as a double date with them.”
“Well you should still go, you were looking forward to it! Ask Miller to go or something,” she insists.
“Clarke you’re sick , I’m not gonna go to a trivia night with our friends,” Bellamy scoffs incredulously, shaking his head in adoration at Clarke’s pout.
“Well that’s just dumb of you. Just because I’m sick doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go have fun,” Clarke argues.
“That’s exactly what it means.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I care about you, dumbass,” Bellamy teases. Whatever further arguments she may have, he shuts up with a gentle kiss, hand cupping her jaw softly. She pulls away after a second.
“I’m gonna get you sick,” she protests weakly, knowing she won’t be winning this argument. Bellamy smirks and leans in for another kiss.
“Worth it,” he whispers as they break apart again. Clarke just smiles and curls back into his side.
“Sap,” she mumbles, head tucked into his chest.
“You love it.”
“I love you ,” she corrects. Bellamy chuckles, the laugh vibrating through his chest.
“It’s fine,” he whispers, “just means if I get soup it’ll be your turn to make me chicken soup.”
“Ugh no, you’re such a baby when you’re sick,” Clarke complains, nose scrunching up.
“I do not!”
“Do too.”
“Oh shut up,” he mutters, doing it himself with another kiss. And that’s how their night and the next day go- bickering, kissing, cuddling, and lots of chicken soup.