Archive of Our Own

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It was cold when Clarke woke up. Granted, lately it was always cold when she woke up, but this time the air smelled different too.

She didn’t want to leave her sort-off warm cocoon of blankets, but her duties to the Camp and Delinquents came before her personal preferences.

As fast as she could, she slipped out of her bed, into her cold boots and jacket, before she wrapped a scarf around her neck. Octavia had started to sew winter equipment like that for Camp from the smaller pelts the hunters brought back a month into living on earth. Till now, at least each of the kids had one scarf, and some of the younger had already hats. It wasn’t ideal for the moral, especially among the older Delinquents, but Clarke had pointed out, that it was for the health of the Camp. If their people would start to get sick – most likely the younger ones first – then they all would suffer from it. The older Delinquents had grumbled but agreed and started to double their efforts to hunt smaller game.

Leaving her tent, Clarke stepped onto crunching ground.

Their camp was white.

White stuff was covering each tarp. It was on the ground covering the small paths that had already been formed through their time on earth. It was on the hair of the few kids walking around.

One white spot fell from the sky and fell onto her nose, causing a shiver to run down her arms. The white stuff was cold.

‘Of course, it’s cold, it’s snow!’, Clarke’s head was pointing out. She had never seen snow, and while the books and movies she had read and watched on the Ark had given her some sort of impression in the frozen water, it was something entirely different to actually witness. Her curiosity got the better of her, and Clarke bent down, touching the white snow with her bare fingers, scooping some up and marveling at how it melted in her palm.

Apparently, she wasn’t the only one with that thought, because after she tore her gaze from the snow at her feet, she registered several kids of different ages competing in something that looked a lot like a snowball fight.

Clarke smiled as she watched Jasper shove a hand full of snow down Harper’s neck, only to be repaid by Monty who threw a snowball at his best friend’s head.

A movement at the gate caught her eye, and Clarke saw Lincoln dismount his horse, before a whirlwind of energy barreled into him. She smiled.

Her head told her, that snow would complicate a lot of things and was the final sign that winter had arrived, for now, though, her heart enjoyed the sight of the joy the snow brought to Camp.

- - -

Lincoln dismounted his horse Helios and was tackled merely a second later by a body much smaller than his own, but with so much force that he had to take a step back. He laughed softly.

“Happy first snow day!”, Lincoln bent down and pressed a chaste kiss to Octavia’s lips.

While they were in Camp, he tried to keep their more intimate interactions to a minimum. Bellamy had apologized to him roughly a month ago, and even somewhat agreed on their relationship, but Lincoln still felt the eyes of him in his back whenever they went too public with their affection. He understood the protectiveness that Bellamy felt towards his sister, so he didn’t say anything. They made up for it, when they were alone.

“Is that a thing here on earth?” The question was so Octavia that Lincoln had to laugh. The fiery brunette barely ever lingered when there was question on her mind. Especially one that was related to earth, his clan or their culture.

It was one of the many things he loved about her.

He nodded. “It is.”

“And what does it mean?”

“It officially announces winter, and is seen as the start of ofontaim.” He loved teaching her about his culture.

Lincoln watched, as Octavia’s brows pulled together while she searched her head for translation of the word. She had asked him to teach her Trig only days into their relationship, something he had happily agreed to. She was a remarkable student and learned new words and situations faster than he would have expected from a skaigada. She had shown him rather quickly not to underestimated her.

“Gift time, right? What does it mean?” Her eyes sparkled, and Lincoln didn’t even have time to open his mouth before she sped on, her words now twice as fast and twice as exited. “Does it mean I get a present? Or do I have to give you one? What would you want to have? Are there any other traditions that you have for this season? Do you celebrate with your family, or with your clan? Or both? Can we celebrate it too?” Octavia barely stopped to catch her breath.

Lincoln shook his head with amusement. By now, he shouldn’t be surprised anymore but it still warmed his heart to see her this eager to learn new things. “You’re right, it means gift time. We have a tradition, where we each gift one of our friends or loved ones something special. Each year, we draw the name of the person that we will give a present to on soncha nat. Light night is twelve days after fostaim ash and we will have a feast where we place the gifts around a table with a single candle on top. After dinner, each of us would pick a gift and give it to the person who it belongs to. That way no one knows from whom their present is. It’s our way of showing that we are one group, one clan, one family. Some of us celebrate ofontaim with their family, some with their friends and there is also a celebration in the village for those of us who don’t have or don’t want to be somewhere else.” It was how he had celebrated the last couple of years, but Lincoln didn’t mention that. He didn’t intend to celebrate fostaim ash or ofontaim alone with his village this year anyways. “I am sure, that if we ask your brother and Clarke, we could arrange something here as well.”

“Yes! We should definitely ask them!”

The sudden voice that had come from a few feet behind him, made Lincoln turn around and nearly drew his dagger. There, maybe six feet in front of him, stood Monty and Jasper next to each other, the later one bouncing on his toes like a little kid. It had been Monty who had spoken, but his friend looked just as exited. Both of them had an expression on their face that was equal parts anticipation, mischief and joy.

While Lincoln and Octavia stared surprised at the two boys, they were already grinning from ear to ear at each other, before dashing away a moment later, without another word.

“Well, I guess I don’t have to ask my brother about having ofontaim here, then.” Octavia grinned at him, stood on her toes and kissed him longer than they normally did in the middle of Camp.

- - -

Clarke had just finished her lunch composed of some jerky and a hot soup, when Monty and Jasper burst into her med bay. For an awful moment, she thought that there was an emergency in Camp, and was already on the way of grabbing her first aid kit, when Monty spoke. While his voice was a bit thin from running, she could hear the excitement in it, and relaxed slightly.

“Clarke! We have a great idea– ”

“Well, actually Lincoln had the idea– “

“Why don’t we celebrate the first snow with presents– “

“And draw names to determine who has to make them– “

“Well, yes, but you also– “

“Stop!” Clarke rose her hands to stop the two boys standing in front of her, nearly falling over each other to explain what they apparently wanted her to agree to. “One at a time.”

Both of them opened their mouths again, and Clarke shook her head. “Monty, tell me what kind of idea you have that Lincoln actually have had?”

The smaller of the two friends grinned at the other, before jumping into what they had just heard from Lincoln, explaining to her how they thought that the idea was actually really cool, and even volunteered to prepare everything, tell Camp and talk to Bellamy about it.

The more Clarke heard, the more she liked the idea. She couldn’t think of any reason why they shouldn’t try the idea at Camp as well, but first of did they need to set some ground rules. That way, the tradition of the grounders wouldn’t be misused or exploited, and – from a cultural point of view – not dishonored either. At least she hoped not. Clarke crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the table she had sat at a few minutes ago.

“It sounds like a great idea, but we would need some rules as well.”

This time it was Jasper that opened his mouth. “We already figured that you would want to have some sort of rules, so we already though about some. What about something like that the gift should not take longer than… a day to make?” Clarke mulled the idea over. A day was a lot of time, but during winter they couldn’t really continue working on their cabins, something they had started on after coming to a truce with the grounders. They now had much more time at hand than before. She nodded after a minute.

“What else?”

“Anything could count as a present? Taking on someone’s chores for a day, granting them a favor, stuff like that?”

That was something, Clarke only limitedly agreed to. She didn’t want the kids to trade favors, or at least not favors that could cause trouble. Sexual favors or gifting away their belongings because they couldn’t think of something else. Each of the kids needed the things that they had, and none of them had too much of something to just give it away.

“Okay… But any kind of sexual favors or giving away their belongings is off the table.” Jasper grinned like a schoolboy at the mentioning of sex and was already about to say something when Monty jabbed his elbow into his friend’s side.

He nodded his understanding to Clarke. “Okay, that should leave some room to come up with an idea. Anything else? We would make it an optional thing, so that those who don’t want to or can’t think of something are off the hook.”

Clarke unfolded her arms and smiled at the two boys. They were one of the kids she liked most in Camp, and ideas like that – no matter if it had been Lincoln’s first or not – made her like them even more. That, and that she didn’t have to deal with Bellamy on that matter, made her agree to the idea.

“Sounds like a good plan.” The two of them cheered. “But,” one of her hands moved upwards, silencing them in the middle of their weird self-high-five, “you are going to tell Bellamy and you have to convince him to agree as well.”

Jasper’s head moved up and down like a bobblehead. “Yes! Of course! Absolutely! Thank you, Clarke!”

Both of them nearly ran out of her mad bay again, racing each other to where they were guessing Bellamy would be. It was fine with Clarke. The less she had to interact with the walking ego, the better.

Maybe an hour later, Monty came back into made bay to let her know that Bellamy had agreed. They would announce ofontaim later that day during dinner.

- - -

Dinner came, and Clarke watched as Monty and Jasper explained how the ofontaim would work, answered a few questions, and – triggered by Clarke’s stern look – emphasized the rules they had agreed on again. Most of the kids seemed to like the idea, and Clarke could see in more than one face a joyful anticipation. Gifts had been rare on the Ark, especially in the working-class stations, so she could understand why the kids were looking forward to something like that.

Jasper announced that they would start collecting names over breakfast. That way they could draw the names the next day over dinner, and could get started thinking about a gift.

Eleven days from then, so twelve days after fostaim ash, they would open the presents, on the night of soncha nat.

--- ∞ ---

The community hall was buzzing the next day during breakfast. Nearly all kids were cramped into the building, with a few exceptions that were on guard duty. Jasper and Monty stood on a table at the head of the building, each of them a bag in hands and a giant smile on their faces.

Jasper’s voice chimed over the crowed and it went quiet.

“Okay, so we have a pile of paper scraps here where each of you can write down their names and then drop them into one of the bags. We will draw them tonight after dinner, so no backsies!” Something in his expression changed, and Clarke felt something tug in her guts. “Our two fierce leaders have already put their names in, just like Monty, Harper and I, so come on!” And with that, he climbed down the table.

He did what?!

While Clarke had intended to sign up, she hated it when someone took her choice from her, especially when it was her choice. Fuming, she looked over at Bellamy, half expecting to see the mocking smile on his lips, showing her that it had been his idea. But he looked just as baffled and pissed as she did. Apparently, the pranksters hadn’t just decided to ignore her free will.

Shaking her head, Clarke tried to let go of her anger. Back in the old times, this was a season of forgiveness. And it wasn’t like she could stand up and yell at Jasper that she wanted to put her own name into the bag.

- - -

Dinner was just as packed as breakfast, if not more, and Jasper and Monty had to relocate their name-drawing outside to get everybody to at least try to stand in a line. Jasper had the glorious idea to let them draw by age, something that he apparently regretted after needing to go through forty people and sorting them accordingly.

He had put Clarke nearly at the end of the line, with only Miller, Raven and Bellamy behind her, something she was very aware of, and not entirely comfortable with. She didn’t like it to have people in her back, especially Mr. What-Ever-The-Hell-We-Want. It was nothing she could change however, so instead she watched the kids starting to draw names.

Some of them cheered or jumped, others huffed, several smiled at the paper in their hands and a few just stayed stoic without so much of a twitch of their eyes.

Clarke wondered who she might draw.

The answer to that question was not what she wanted it to be.

Sticking her hand into the nearly empty bag that Monty was holding, Clarke pulled out a piece of paper, stepped aside and opened it up.

Bellamy Blake

Shit… She suppressed the desire to curse, roll her eyes or toss her head into her neck. Why, on earth, did she draw his name out of the other 38 that she could have picked? Why not Raven? Or Monty? Or one of the younger kids? Why did it have to be him?

Clenching her jaw, Clarke nodded at herself, closed her eyes briefly and then marched towards her tent. She didn’t want to sit around the fires tonight. She wanted to go back to her tent, be alone and grumble over how unfair it was that she now had to think of something she could give to her co-leader.

--- ∞ ---

Clarke couldn’t think of anything she could give to Bellamy.

Well, that was not quite right. There were several things that she could give him. She could give him the finger, and was it just because he called her Princess this morning again, with that smirk around his lips that drove her mad. She could give him a list of things that drove her crazy. Or she could give him a piece of her mind, though that she already did on an almost daily basis.

The two of them worked together well enough to keep Camp upright, and most of the times they even had similar ideas, but that didn’t mean that she wanted to throttle him more often than not while they argued.

Trying to stop the rant that had started to build up in her head, Clarke closed her eyes and exhaled until there was no more air left in her lungs.

She wasn’t sure what she should or could give him as a gift.

Her first thought had been a knife. A knife was a sensible choice. It was something that he could surely use on a daily basis. Something that was helpful throughout the day. And something that was just boring as hell. She knew for a fact that he already had two knives, so there wasn’t even a need for another one.

And to be totally honest, her pride didn’t allow her to just give him a knife. It was a boring present, and it didn’t really challenge her in any way. She loved giving gifts, and back on the Ark, she always tried to come up with something special when it was her parents’ or Wells’ birthday. She would get Wells a new chess figurine that she had found on the market, her father a pair of warm socks, because he had always complained about how cold his feet got when he was in the bowels of the Ark, trying to fix something. Her mother had always been a bit trickier, but even for her Clarke had come up with something meaningful.

Bellamy though was another thing. She didn’t know him well enough to figure out if there was something that he could use – besides a smaller ego – and the only time she had seen him without the mask he always wore, was when he had been crying, leaning against a tree. No matter what she might think of him ninety-five percent of the day, that moment had been heartbreaking to witness.

She supposed that she could ask his sister for help, but something within her bristled at that thought. It was her present, so it had to be her job to come up with an idea and to see it through.

Clarke huffed, and threw the bandage she had just rolled up into its crate with a bit more force than necessary. Like most of these days, she was in med bay, waiting for kids to come in for something against their cough, running nose or headache. Earth was beautiful, but not ideal for people who had lived their entire life in a controlled environment. The cold hit harder than it did the grounders, so the herbs and roots that Lincoln brought her every few days were very welcome.

In spring, they would need to repay Trikru for their support, most likely by helping them with building new cabins or joining their hunting parties, but that was a bridge she and Bellamy would cross when they would get there.

Starting to sort and neatly pile the remaining medicine that she had, Clarke thought on.

Stacking a purplish flower into a small shelf, a memory of her childhood filled her mind, just a few moments, but the voice of her best friend was enough to make her smile and tear up at the same time.

Wells had once told her to use her skills to get what she wanted. Back then he had meant that she should use her head in order to beat him at chess, rather than her anger over loosing. But now, that advice came to her again.

Her skillset was not very wide, but the things that she could do, she was pretty decent at. Or at least, decent enough to be useful. She was good in medicine, something that showed in the fact that none of the kids had died anymore since they came to a truce with the grounders.

That wouldn’t really help her now though. She couldn’t give Bellamy a set of herbs, they were too valuable for Camp to just give away. For a moment she thought about giving him a massage but shook that thought off nearly in the same second. It was neither an appropriate present, nor did she know how he would take the idea.

She was good in planning and mapping things out, but Bellamy would hardly have any use for a detailed checklist or plan of all the things they would need to decide on when spring would come around.

The last thing she knew she was rather good in, was art. On the Ark, and especially during isolation she had drawn for hours and days at a time. It was her way of clearing her mind.

Maybe she could draw something for Bellamy? It wouldn’t use up any recourses of Camp, it was something that didn’t have a use but could be meaningful or nice, and it was something that she could do herself without relying on others.

The more Clarke thought about it, the more she started to like the idea. It could be a personal present, as well as something he liked, and if not… well, then there wouldn’t be anything lost besides her time and effort.

But what could she draw?

Normally, when she found time to draw something, she never really asked herself that question. She would take a piece of coal and started, trusting her hand that it knew what it wanted to do. Then, after a while, when it got clearer on what she sketched out, her mind would take over and fill in the gaps, strengthened the lines, added shades and reflections to the image and worked on the details.

That was how her drawing worked.

Clarke had always hated it, when people told her to draw something right this instant, to pull something from her mind in the matter of minutes. She could do that, but the result was never good in her eyes.

And if the drawing she would give to Bellamy should be one thing, then it should be good. There was no point of making a halfhearted gift, or in just sloppily drawing something so that she got it over with. Bellamy was a lot of things, and in her eyes he often deserved a slap over the head for how stupid he acted, but he didn’t deserve a lousy present.

So, what do draw?

Clarke was done with fixing and cleaning up the med bay for a while now, but she barely registered it. Her thoughts were preoccupied with the task at hand.

Maybe a landscape?

No. They lived on earth, for crying out loud! He didn’t need a picture of some woods or meadow or mountain, when he could just go outside and open his eyes.

He loves his sister! Maybe a picture of Octavia?

That idea wasn’t as stupid but she still didn’t like it. He saw his sister daily, and on the rare occasions she was more than a day gone with Lincoln, Clarke had noticed Bellamy to be more busy than usual. He wouldn’t need a picture of his sister.

But what else was there? A group-picture of the Delinquents like they did back in the old days? Why? He saw them daily, and frankly, not all of the kids were really on a friend-base with him. Murphy for example.

When Wells had been murdered, there had been a series of events that had nearly led to Murphy being hanged and then to him being banished. The first had been stopped by Bellamy, and the second by her, and while the lanky Delinquent was still at Camp, it was no secret that neither Clarke nor Bellamy were his favorite people.

What else…?

Back on the Ark, Clarke had once drawn her mom a family picture, and while she saw her family daily as well, Clarke still remembered the tears of joy that the picture had triggered.

Maybe a picture of him and Octavia together? No, but maybe if she could…

Clarke’s head snapped up from where she was staring at the floor in front of her.

She just had the idea. The best thing she could think of as a present for Bellamy.

Grinning at herself, Clarke left med bay and headed towards her tent, where coal and paper were already waiting for her.

--- ∞ ---

On day three of fostaim ash, Clarke beaconed Octavia to hang back after breakfast.

The brunette looked at her curiously, but signaled Jasper to go ahead, and then walked over to Clarke, who was standing a bit off, leaning against one of the walls of the building.

“Hey, Clarke, what’s up?”

“Octavia, hey… I have a favor to ask you. Or rather, I have something that I would like you to look at.”

A pair of brown eyes squinted at her, eyes that reminded Clarke of the ones she had drawn numerous times last night.

“O-kay…?”

“Great! I have them in my tent. Could you come over tonight or something when you have time?”

“I have time now!” Clarke could almost see the curiosity sparkle in her friend’s eyes.

Okay then, now it is…

She nodded and the two women went to her tent, Clarke first, but Octavia hot on her heels.

On top of her bed were laying maybe a dozen pictures of a woman. All of them looked somewhat the same, but never identical.

In one, the woman had long, curly hair, in another straight. In one, she had dark eyes, and another where only lightly shaded, giving her the impression of having blue eyes. The shape of her nose, forehead and lips were in each picture different, but similar enough to see that it was supposed to be the same woman.

Octavia stopped dead in her tracks upon seeing the drawings.

“How… Did you… Why did you… How did you know how she looked like?” The younger girl’s voice was almost broken, much quieter that Clarke was used to. She looked much younger too, somewhat smaller, and a faraway look in her eyes that was equally longing and pain.

Clarke nodded to herself quietly. Apparently, she did at least part of it right, if Octavia’s reaction was anything to go by.

“Well, uhm… I got your brother for ofontaim and had the idea to draw him a picture of you, himself and your mom… The only thing is, that I have no idea how your mom looked like, so I played around with both of your features and tried to add them up differently, and those came out. Of course, I don’t know how accurate – if even – they are, so I wanted to ask you if you could point out which one I got sort of right, or show me different traits that I have to change…”

Clarke stepped towards the brunette and noticed a silent tear rolling down her cheek.

“Mom…” Her voice broke. Clarke stood still while her friend collected herself with a sharp huff of air. She watched as Octavia stepped forward and picked up each drawing, examining it, tracing the jawline of her mother, holding the paper like it could fall apart any second.

It could have been minutes or hours, but Clarke didn’t say anything. Frankly, she hadn’t expected such an emotional reaction from the otherwise chirpy but steady woman and let her have the time and space she needed.

Eventually, Octavia picked up a drawing.

“This one is the closest. Mom had straight, brown hair, maybe a bit lighter than mine, and her eyes were the same as Bell’s,” she picked another image up, “but the way you drew her cheeks here is better than in the first one. Mom often looked serious. And because she had to feed me from her rations as well, her cheeks weren’t as full as you did in this one.”

Another drawing got picked up. “The nose here is close enough, I think. I can’t really remember…” Another tear ran down her cheek, but instead of wiping it away, Octavia stared at the three drawings in her hands.

After a long pause of silence, Clarke spoke.

“Thank you, Octavia, that was really helpful. I am sorry though. I didn’t think that it would have such an effect on you… I am not sure if it’s the best gift for Bellamy, if it makes you so sad…”

Octavia’s head snapped upwards, and suddenly all the longing in her eyes was replaced by anger. “Don’t! Don’t you dare not giving Bell this as a present! It’s a beautiful present! I am glad that my thickheaded brother has someone who cares so much about him to put that much effort into making him happy.”

If Clarke would have been drinking anything, she surely would have spat the content all over the floor. She did not care about Bellamy! He was a thickhead, idiot, and had an ego that could barely fit into the Dropship. All levels included! Yes, he had a soft side as well, and yes, he cared a lot about each of the kids, and yes, he did have his good days, but that didn’t mean that Clarke cared about him! At least not on a level that Octavia was implying.

Something on her face must have betrayed her thoughts, because the other woman was shaking her head. “Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “Apparently, both of you are thickheads.” Another eyeroll, and Clarke was about to snack Octavia’s shoulder. “But Clarke? Please go through with your idea. I am sure it would mean a great deal to my brother!”

“Okay… If you think that it’s still a good idea, then, yes, I’ll go through with it.”

“Thank you!”

Clarke thought that their conversation was over, but Octavia was still holding the pictures of her mother, and Clarke could see her swallow several times.

“I’ll draw you one too, if you want? I need those for reference, otherwise I would have given them to you…”

“That’s okay… It’s just so good to see her again.”

That, Clarke could understand. Whenever she looked at the drawing of her dad, she felt heartbroken and whole at the same time. It was that horrible feeling of missing, that never went away and just shifted its proportions of pain and peace.

Octavia nodded to herself sharply, put the drawing gently back onto the bed, slightly apart from the others, and left Clarke’s tent without another word.

Clarke stood where she was for a moment longer, before picking the pictures back up, putting them aside and cleaning up the rest of the drawing. She would start with the real present that evening, but first, she had her duties to Camp she had to attend to.

- - -

It took Clarke more than the one-day limit they had agreed on to finish the drawing.

She didn’t care.

It was her free time in the evening, none of the Camp’s resources suffered from it, and neither did she neglect her duties, so she didn’t see a problem in spending more time than she was supposed to, on making a gift.

While she had originally planned on adding Bellamy and Octavia to the picture, her hands had other ideas. They wanted to fill the whole page with the face of Aurora Blake, and Clarke had let them. That way, she could spend more time on details and tried get more personally to the face that was looking back at her. She drew Bellamy’s mother smiling, not a full-blown grin, but a soft and hopefully warm smile. She imagined that Aurora had looked like that at her son whenever he did something his mother had been proud of. Clarke had aimed for an expression of pride and love. Something she had hopefully archived.

That way, Bellamy could maybe feel and see the pride that his mother had undoubtedly felt towards him, whenever he looked at her drawing. It was something he deserved.

And, remembering the way he broke down after he had to kill Dax, Clarke figured that he also needed to be reminded of his mother’s love at times.

It was already after dinner, and Clarke was sitting in her tent with, the sound of snow falling against the tarp the only thing that she heard. It was too cold outside to sit around for too long and chat, and most of the kids, especially the younger ones, slept in the Dropship anyways. It was warmer than the tents.

Only a few of them still slept outside, and even those had the opportunity to sleep in the community hall if they wanted to.

So far, Clarke didn’t want to. The year she had forcefully spent in solitary had caused her to enjoy and relish in the feeling of other people around her, but also made her get tired more easily when being surrounded by others. So, at night, she preferred to be alone and to do the things that she wanted to, without the feeling of always needing to be online and open for a chat.

Sitting on her bed cross-legged, over her lap her blanket while her back rested against the support beam, Clarke stared at the face of Aurora Blake.

It was a good drawing, and she couldn’t really find anything in the drawing itself that bugged her, but there was still something missing.

A piece of paper was a bit of a weird present, even if what was on the paper was what counted.

And a portrait of a loved one without a frame was just not right.

So, her present still needed a frame.

Easier said than done. Those didn’t grow on trees – well, technically they did in a way, but Clarke had never tried to build something out of wood. It was not a material they had on the Ark for obvious reasons, and down on earth she never thought about it.

It took her quite a while to come up with an idea and a plan on how to build a frame. She would need four slim planks or twigs as the actual frame, a somewhat smooth board to frame the picture onto and a beam of sorts to prop the picture up.

Six things all in all, and some nails or twine to get them to stay together.

They had enough nails in camp, courtesy of Raven who had started to reuse several pieces of the Dropship, so that shouldn’t be a problem to get. Neither the twigs for the frame, they lived in a forest after all. The only thing that could be harder to get by was the board.

She could use a larger piece of bark, or look through their firewood. After a building day, there were often the smaller cuttings or parts that they couldn’t use anymore.

Placing the drawing into a box near her bed, Clarke blew out the candle in her tent. Tomorrow she would go wood-hunting.

--- ∞ ---

The next day was too busy for Clarke to go searching for wood.

Bellamy had been shot into the shoulder by accident with an arrow by one of the other kids, while trying to teach them how to handle the weapon.

It wasn’t a deep or serious wound, but it had still taken Clarke the better part of the afternoon to stitch him up and bandage his shoulder in a way that he wouldn’t be able to pull his stitches. All the while her co-leader was sitting on the table, switching between cursing out of pain and telling Clarke that he was fine and didn’t need to be patched up.

She had to bite her tongue several times to not call him out on his bullshit, but the voice of her mother, imploring her to always have good bedside manners when it came to patients, rang in her ears.

After finishing her job, she had watched Bellamy hop of the table and instantly smacked his healthy shoulder because he tried to move his other arm. She had to threaten him to follow him around Camp like a babysitter if he wouldn’t take care of his injury and not try to destroy her work of an hour, damnit!

A laugh had escaped him, and Clarke almost felt something like warmth affection at the sound, if he hadn’t killed the mood with winking at her and a thank you, Princess.

After dinner, Clarke was too tired to look through the huge pile of firewood. And it had been already dark anyways, so instead she had sat with Monty and Jasper for a while before retreating back to her tent for a hopefully goodnight sleep.

- - -

The next day though, on day eight of ofontaim, Clarke asked Harper if she could keep an eye on med bay, while she ran a few errands.

Her friend gave her a warm smile and agreed even before Clarke promised to be back in an hour, tops.

First thing, the frame itself.

To find twigs wasn’t hard, but Clarke was a bit more picky than strictly necessary. She refused to have part of a present well done, just to have it destroyed by a twig that didn’t have all of its bark on it, was too twisted or had too many side branches on it. Bellamy deserved a well-done present not a sloppy one.

Clarke was in luck though. It took her only about fifty minutes to find four more or less matching twigs as well as three different pieces of wood that she could use as a board and prop.

Raven didn’t even pay attention to her when she asked for a hand-full of nails and just waved vaguely towards the direction of their box, her head buried in some sort of machinery.

After coming back, Clarke relieved Harper again before she collected her bag with bandages and some of the red seaweed-paste. She was almost sure, that Bellamy wouldn’t be coming on his own for a change of bandages, so she headed out of mad bay and went to look for him.

She was expecting to find him at the wall, carrying a gun or training one of the guards, but to her surprise, Miller pointed her towards their newest hut, something that was going to be the new med bay when it was finished. The roof was already done, just like the walls of course, but the building was still lacking a door and shutters, as well as part of the floor and the fireplace in the corner. It was a necessary item if they wanted to boil and sterilize tools, as well as keeping the cabin warm at all times. They still needed furniture as well, nothing too complicated for the beginning, but at least two cots for patients and some sort of storage for medicine, bandages, and medical instruments. Not that she had a lot of those. Yet!

Walking over to the building, Clarke wondered what Bellamy was doing there. Pretty sure that she would kick his ass if he was doing something even remotely straining his shoulder, Clarke was truly surprised when she found him.

He was sitting on a chair in the middle of the half-done room and explained one of the younger kids how to put together the different pieces of a cot. He didn’t move his injured arm while gesturing, and the softness with which he spoke erased for a moment the annoyance Clarke often felt when she saw him.

The kid he was currently instructing was Yen, a fifteen-year-old girl with black hair that had gotten locked up for breaking the curfew on multiple occasions. Back on the Ark, Clarke had thought that such a punishment for that ‘crime’ was justified, but down here on earth, she wanted to throttle each of the council members – her mother included. Yen had been just a kid, who wanted to bring her father an extra ration during his 16-hour shift and got locked up for that.

Clarke watched for a few moments and had to admit once more to herself that Bellamy was a good leader, patient teacher and caring person.

“Princess. Are you here to oversee the construction of your new palace?”

And gone was the feeling, replaced by the annoyance she felt whenever he called her that. Granted thought, her reaction wasn’t as strong as it had been during their first few weeks on earth. The tone in his voice had gone softer over the months and didn’t carry the sharpness anymore that it held had before.

Clarke still huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Ha-ha, funny. I am actually here for you.” She saw his eyebrow rising, hiding themselves under his bangs of curly, dark hair.

“Is that so? And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Your awesome teaching skills,” Clarke deadpanned. “I am here to check on your shoulder and to change the bandages.”

And then something strange happened.

Bellamy didn’t bite back.

He just nodded before his healthy arm shook of his jacket and then reached behind him to pull off his shirt. His injured arm was bound to his chest, a precaution from Clarke so that he wouldn’t be too tempted to use his shoulder just yet. At least not for the first two or three days.

And then, Bellamy just sat like that on his chair, his shoulder and chest bare, while his jacket and shirt was bunched in his lab, covering his stomach, looking expectantly at her.

Clarke stood frozen for a moment, too dumbstruck to really know what to do, until her head caught up with what her eyes saw. Drawing air into her lungs, she moved over to him, all too aware of two pairs of eyes watching her every move.

When she reached him, Bellamy grinned at her smartly before gesturing Yen to go on with her job.

Jackass.

Examining the wound, Clarke was pleased to see that Bellamy had kept himself from using the shoulder too much. The stiches still looked good, there was just a small rim of blood around the seam, the muscles weren’t particularly hard or swollen and there was already a healthy bruise forming around the wound.

Clarke cleaned the whole area carefully, mindful when she heard a hiss from her right, before redressing it again, giving him a tiny bit more space to move this time. She hoped that he understood her offering and wouldn’t go and try doing push-ups on it.

“Done.” Her hand lingered for a second on his shoulder, before she pulled back, confused from her own action. “It looks good so far, but that doesn’t mean that you should use the shoulder just yet, okay? Give it a few days and then we can start on getting you to move it again.”

“Great… Will do.” Bellamy’s voice indicated that it was anything but great, but Clarke was grateful that he didn’t fight her on it. A stubborn patient was nearly and stressing as fixing a serious wound.

“Can you get your shirt on yourself, or should I help you?”

Bellamy huffed.

“I can handle it, thank you Princess.”

Clarke forced her teeth together and scowled at him, before she started to pack her things back up.

A minute later, she was out of her future med bay again and headed towards her current one.

- - -

In the evening, Clarke sat down for the last time to finish her present. The drawing was already placed at the foot of her bed, the twigs placed loosely onto the board and the prop was already nailed to the back of it. The only thing she now had to do, was to place the picture onto the piece of wood and then to nail the twigs – and with that the picture – to the background.

It shouldn’t be too complicated, but Clarke was still hesitant. She didn’t want to ruin her work by messing up the frame, a real possibility if she kept in mind that she had barely any experience with woodwork.

She took one of the twigs – oak if she was correct – and rolled it between her fingers. She had taken great care in checking each twig, and whittling off any part that was too big, long or unshaped and now all four pieces laid in their respective area on the wood.

Why is this so hard?!

She didn’t have an answer to that. She had patched up serious and nearly lethal injuries, had nursed Jasper through his spear wound, had run Camp with Bellamy for over two months already and thought of herself as someone who didn’t back down from a challenge. So why, for fuck’s sake, did she still sit here on the floor in her tent and stared at the six pieces she needed to assemble rather than just doing it?

Clarke groaned and tossed her head back. She closed her eyes and breathed in.

And out.

And in again.

Another round, but it didn’t really help.

After the fifth round of trying to kill her hesitancy with breathing, she growled at herself, literally growled into the emptiness of her tent, and reached out for the paper.

Placing it onto the board, Clarke spent several minutes trying to center it and leveling the edges as well as she could. Another growl followed upon realizing that she was once again stalling, she then reached for the twigs and placed them over the paper.

Not allowing herself to procrastinate again, she took the first nail and used the small hammer she had lent from Raven to tack it through the twigs and paper straight into the board. Luckily, the nail was short enough to not peek out at the back.

She went forth with the remaining three corners, before she laid the hammer away and reached for the small strips of leather she had picked up earlier from Octavia. The brunette had smile at her, but hadn’t asked about how her present was going, something Clarke was grateful for.

After tying the leather strips over each corner to hide the nails, Clarke held the now finished present at arm’s length and took a look.

It was good. Really good, actually.

The drawing of Aurora Blake was neatly framed by four oak twigs, her expression caring and proud, and there were no wrinkles in the paper.

Nodding to herself, Clarke smiled. She did it! Her ofontaim present for Bellamy was done, and it turned out really good.

She carefully picked it up and placed it in a small box underneath her bed, before pulling out another drawing that wasn’t fully finished yet.

Smiling at herself, Clarke took a piece of coal and continued her work.

--- ∞ ---

It was the day of opening presents, or how the grounders, Octavia and therefore Jasper and Monty called it, sonach sintaim. The day of light.

Tonight, the presents would be placed around a table with a single candle on it, and then each kid would pick a present and give it to the person it was made for. So, while today was sonach sintaim, the actual present-giving would not be until after dinner, when sonach nat was already in full motion.

And Clarke could barely wait for it.

She loved giving gifts, and if she was completely honest with herself, she wanted to see if her present would make Bellamy happy. He deserved a lot of things a lot of the time, but he also deserved to be happy and to have something that would make him happy. And he deserved a gift that would hopefully mean something to him.

They had agreed that they could bring their wrapped presents to the community hall until an hour before the big feast. That way, everybody had enough time and space to drop off their presents, without it being clear who was gifting whom.

Clarke had been one of the first to deposit her present, the table carrying only five others at that point. While she had been curious, she had referred from checking the nametags, wanting to stay as surprised and exited as possible for the evening. None of the presents had been wrapped like the presents in movies Clarke had seen as a kid on the Ark, but each of them was covered up somehow. A blanket, a piece of leather, a small box, a piece of tarp or cloth. Anything to keep the content from curious eyes until after dinner.

Afterwards she had sneaked into Octavia’s workshop, underneath her jacket a small roll wrapped in cloth.

Inside of it was the drawing she had finished the other day, now carefully wrapped to protect it from the weather and curious eyes. It didn’t have a frame like Bellamy’s present, but Clarke hoped nonetheless that Octavia would appreciate it.

The drawing was almost identical to the one she had made already, with the exception that Aurora Blake’s expression was showing the soft love that Clarke imagined she would always show to her daughter.

Clarke knew that Octavia was still out with Lincoln but would come back around noon to finish some things in her shop before helping the others with the preparations.

 So, Clarke didn’t even knock on the support beam, but just stepped inside of the tent, checking quickly if she was really the only one there.

She then placed the rolled-up cloth close to the second beam. That way, Octavia would most likely see it without accidently stepping on it or dropping something onto it.

Slipping out again, Clarke couldn’t suppress the grin that formed on her face. She really hoped that the Blake-siblings would like her presents, even though technically she only had to make one for Bellamy.

- - -

Normally, the jobs in camp were widely spread, divided between kitchen duty, hunting parties, latrine duties, helping skin and clean game, guard duty, free time, constructing and more. The kids often had something to do, but Clarke and Bellamy each kept a close eye on that, making sure that they had enough free time and everyone did their parts,

Today though, Camp was buzzing.

Most of the younger kids were on kitchen duty, preparing the feast that they had planned. It wasn’t too big, because they still had most of winter ahead of them but definitely more and bigger than usual. The older kids were out hunting for a few more rabbits than usual or were cleaning and preparing the community hall. Some were building a few more benches, while others were chopping more firewood, already keeping the fire burning a bit brighter than normally. They wanted the hall to be as comfortable as possible.

After all, it was their first real holiday on earth. Unity-day wasn’t really counting in Clarke’s opinion because they weren’t part of the Ark anymore. Not since they decided that the lives of a hundred kids were expandable enough to shoot them into their possible deaths without anything to help them if they would survive.

Clarke was helping with preparations as well.

Currently, she was weaving fir branches together into a long garland to hang over the door of the common hall. It was an old tradition, even older than grounder traditions, and while the reason of why was lost on Clarke, she liked how it looked. It filled the camp with a bit of color besides brown, steel-gray and white.

The task was rather simple if you got the hang of it, but she was still slightly struggling with. It was something that was annoying her immensely, especially considering that Bellamy was sitting a few feet away from her, twisting and turning the branches into an almost round wreath without making it seem hard or complicated. And while using mainly only one hand, the one from his injured shoulder placed in his lap to turn the wreath every other minute.

Clarke tried to ignore him, and instead focused a bit harder on her own task.

Up, right turn, down, loop, backwards and then up again.

Not that hard and at the same time tricky when the branches were too short or too thick to properly bend.

- - -

They had set dinner to be around sunset, something apparently the grounders did as well, to have a long night, as well as to see the candle by the presents like a beacon in the dark. Or something like that, Clarke hadn’t really understood it. That didn’t change the fact that she loved the view that she had upon entering the hall.

Already, several tables were occupied by Delinquents, a whole mountain of gifts of all sizes and shapes were placed under and around the table in the corner, and the air was already faintly smelling of meat and Jonty’s moonshine – the name that Monty and Jasper had given their newest batch of alcohol they were brewing somewhere outside of camp. It had been Bellamy who had kicked their little experiments outside, after they had nearly blown-up half of the kitchen with only slightly apologetic expressions on their soot-covered faces.

After taking in the scene in front of her for a moment longer, Clarke made her way to one of the tables close to the end of the hall, opposite of the presents. Monty, Jasper, Miller and Lincoln were already there, the latest with Octavia sitting between his legs sideways on the bench, her back leaning against his chest. It looked cozy and intimate on a very warm level, and for a moment Clarke felt the pang of longing for that inside of her.

She shook the thought off rather quickly though. Finn made it all the easier for her, sitting at the next table and looking at her like a lovesick puppy. A puppy she would love to kick sometimes, no matter how wrong it sounded.

Sitting down with her back towards him, Clarke smiled at her friends.

Lincoln nodded in greeting, but Octavia nearly pushed him of the bench in her haste to climb over the table and tackled Clarke with a bearhug.

Surprised by the fierce action, it took her a second to put her arms around the brunette.

Clarke had expected Octavia be loud and already prepared herself for that, so she was even more surprised to hear Octavia’s voice not more than a whisper somewhere into her shoulder.

“Thank you! Thank you so much, Clarke!”

Clarke didn’t say anything. To be honest she didn’t know what to say.

You’re welcome?

No problem?

Any time?

Don’t mention it?

Sure thing?

There were so many answers to a thank you, and Clarke didn’t like any of them for the situation she was currently in. So, instead, she just nodded and squeezed her friend a bit tighter.

Octavia eventually pulled back, slightly red eyes and a radiating grin displayed on her features.

“Thank you, Clarke!”

She nodded again and watched how the brunette climbed back over the table and placed herself back against Lincoln’s chest, who pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and smiled at Clarke as if he wanted to thank her as well.

The others at the table had been silent, staring at the exchange with wide eyes. Clarke really hoped that they would just skip what just happened and continued with their conversations, but Jasper wouldn’t have it.

“What was that all about?!”

“Nothing…–”

“– Clarke gave me something beautiful for ofontaim.”

Jasper’s eyes went wide before pinching them together suspiciously.

“I thought we were supposed to do this whole thing anonymously and after dinner?”

Clarke felt heat creeping up her spine. She didn’t have any problems with talking in public or taking the lead if necessary, but she always felt a bit uncomfortable whenever she was the subject of a conversation.

“We are.” She didn’t want to tell Jasper what she had given Octavia. It was something personal, and if the other girl wanted their friends to know, she could tell them herself. Clarke wouldn’t take that choice away from her.

“O-kay… Then what was that all about?”

“That’s something I would love to know as well.”

Clarke nearly jumped off the bench and her knee hit the underside of the table painfully. Turning towards the voice that had spoken behind her, Clarke stared at a blue Henley, covering a firm chest. Moving her eyes upwards, Clarke didn’t need to guess who had spoken. Not only did she know the voice almost as well as her own, but she also knew the Henley and the way the person was holding himself.

Bellamy.

Octavia’s brother was staring down at her, a curious glint in his eyes and a relaxed smile on his lips. Before Clarke could react, or answer, or pretty much do anything but forcing her heart to beat slower again, he sat down next to her, placed his hands onto of the table and almost instantly starting to tap onto the surface. For a moment he looked nervous, but Clarke couldn’t think of a reason why.

Across the table, Octavia huffed at her brother’s antics, Jasper looked a bit sour that he still hadn’t gotten an answer and Miller crooked his head slightly in form of a greeting.

“But, knowing my sister, Jasper, she won’t tell you. And neither will our Princess here.” Clarke stopped herself from glaring at him at the nickname. “Whatever it was, though,” he turned almost his whole body towards Clarke, one of his arms falling from the table, while the other dropped into his lap, “thank you! It’s always nice to see that my little sister has people who care about her.”

And then, Bellamy did something that Clarke hadn’t seen coming. The hand belonging to his good shoulder rose and placed itself onto her shoulder, squeezing it gently for several seconds before brushing down the length of her arm. A warm smile accompanied the action and Clarke’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. Instinctively, she smiled back at him and didn’t break eye contact until he did.

She felt warm all over and instead of keeping her jaw in check, Clarke now had to keep the stupid grin that wanted to form on her face to a minimum.

The group stared at them for a moment longer, each of them – besides Octavia for some reason – looking like they just saw a three-headed deer, before Bellamy went on and asked Monty about his and Jasper’s latest brew.

Clarke was grateful for the distraction which gave her time to get her features back under control, even though she could basically still feel Bellamy’s hand on her shoulder.

- - -

When dinner was finally ready, each of them dug in with great enthusiasm. The stew with meat was welcomingly warm and the mix of rabbit and venison was tender, nearly melting on their tongues.

The cup of Jonty Clarke had to drink in order to get Jasper off her back was a too strong for her liking, something Bellamy notices with a small laugh. She couldn’t even blame him or be angry at his schadenfreude. After all, her face had contorted into a grimace and she nearly coughed the liquid all over her stew.

Dinner was great, but the closer they got to after, the more exited Clarke got. Not because she would get a present, but because she wanted to see Bellamy’s reaction, and see if she did right by deciding on that kind of present.

When almost everyone was done with dinner, and the bowls, plates and other dishes had been brought to the kitchen, Octavia stood onto the bench.

“YO!” It was surprising every time Clarke saw it, with which how much force the girl could yell. The hall went almost immediately silent, and over fifty pairs of eyes looked at the brunette.

“It’s time for sonach nat! Trikru, the clan that allows us to stay on their land and to build our own village, celebrates this night every year twelve days after fostaim ash. We all had a great dinner, and now those who wanted to take part in the tradition: it’s gift time!” The whole hall cheered, and Clarke could see some of the younger but also a hand full of the older kids, jumped up and howling loudly. “It’s tradition that each one of you, starting with the youngest, goes over to the presents, picks one, and gives it to the one it was meant to belong. The grounders and Trikru believe in their community, other than the people from the Ark. So let’s celebrate us!”

Clarke didn’t know that Octavia could hold a speech like that, and even though the mentioning of the Ark stung slightly, she was too excited to feel sad about that. Clapping and smiling at her friend, Clarke watched as the first few Delinquents jumped up and formed a line of kids eagerly waiting for their turn to pick a present.

Just like when their names were drawn, she was one of the last in line, so she stayed seated and watched curiously as the youngest of their group nearly skipped to ‘their’ person and handed them a gift.

Clarke watched as Miller unwrapped a new beanie with a fur line, and nearly laughed at the sight of him having furry ears after putting it on.

A few kids later, Yen walked over to her, a shy smile on her lips. The present she was holding was small, hidden within a tin box.

Taking the present for the girl, Clarke opened it and was greeted by a handful of pencils.

It was pretty easy to figure out that Finn had been the person whose present it was. He was basically begging her with his looks to thank him and to tell him how great and thoughtful it was of him. Maybe even call them a ‘good boy’, Clarke didn’t know nor care

Instead, Clarke smiled at Yen and thanked her.

Petty? Maybe a bit, but Clarke really didn’t care.

Something nudged her shoulder, and Clarke saw Bellamy leaning in just slightly, nudging her shoulder again with a knowing grin, before retreating.

Octavia got a favor for getting out of kitchen duty from one of the youngers kids, their name wonkily scribbled in the corner of the paper. It didn’t really serve the whole point of gifting in secret, but Octavia apparently didn’t mind.

After several more rounds of picking a gift and bringing it to the new owner, one of the older kids walked to Monty and dropped a flimsily wrapped present into his lap. Jasper didn’t even try to hide his pride when his friend uncovered something that looked a lot like a flask.

A few minutes and most of the kids later, it was Clarke’s turn to head to the table.

There were only a handful of presents left, including her own for Bellamy. Picking up a small one close to her, Clarke read the name.

Jasper Jordan

Grinning to herself, she headed back to their table, sat back onto her place and tossed the present to her goggle-wearing friend.

The present was so obviously from Monty that the whole table laughed, including Bellamy and Lincoln. It was a single joint and was accompanied by Monty’s comment that he had found some weed the other week.

Clarke should be worried about the protentional problems that the discovery could bring with, but she was in a too good of a mood at that moment

After herself, it was Miller’s turn. He, too, picked a present and came straight back to their table.

It was her present.

Forcing herself to wear her poker face, Clarke watched with eagle eyes as Bellamy accepted the gift with a thank you, moved his fingers gently along the edges before removing the leather she had used to wrap it.

Miller had given it face downwards to Bellamy, so there was another second it took him to realize that it was a frame.

Clarke watched, her fingers pressing into her thigh nearly painfully, as Bellamy turned the present and then he just stared. She saw his pupils blowing up, noticed how his jaw went slack for a fraction of a second before forcing his teeth together, saw how his walls shot up behind his eyes and had to witness the false, polite smile that he put on. He didn’t show the present to anyone, just nodded his thanks again to Miller. He then rewrapped the drawing and put it into his lap, facing down.

Clarke’s poker face nearly broke and something heavy place itself onto her shoulders, mind, and heart. The anticipation and pride she had felt ever since she had come up with her idea got replaced first by a heavy gloom before then morphing into boiling anger.

Not towards Bellamy, but towards herself. She must have made a mistake, must have upset him with the audacity of assuming that he would like the gift, must have messed up her whole idea of giving him something that he could appreciate.

Clarke’s eyes dropped onto her own present, staring through it and looking into the void, hoping that it looked like she was marveling at the pencils rather than ripping herself apart on the inside.

She didn’t look at Bellamy, and didn’t look at Octavia, even as she felt the heavy stares of the later one on her.

The last few presents went by in a blur, but Clarke didn’t care. She barely noticed how Raven stood to take her turn and came back only to be gifted by Bellamy. Clarke had no idea what was inside of the present and didn’t join in, when the table started to guess from whom it was.

The moment the last present was given away, and Octavia had announced that now was the time to fully celebrate, Clarke excused herself and left the community hall, her new pencils in front of her as a pretext to leave.

She wanted – needed – to get out of the stuffy hall, away from her friends guessing who drew their names, examine the presents of the others, enjoying more of Jonty and celebrating. But first and foremost, she needed to get away from Bellamy’s closed-up expression. Over the past weeks and months, she had started to get a rather good reading on him, so it was obvious to her that he was currently wearing a mask to hide how he felt about the present. The only logical explanation for that was because he didn’t want to show that he didn’t like it.

Knowing that Octavia would sniff out her lie from a mile away, Clarke told Jasper that she would bring her present back to her tent so she wouldn’t lose it. He nodded, though Clarke wasn’t sure if he had already smoked his gift, so she didn’t know how much actually got through. She didn’t care.

Weaving through the crowd, Clarke nearly stumbled out of the door, inhaling the stingingly cold air with a bit more force than necessary. Looking up, she saw the garland she had made earlier, and smiled faintly. At least something evoked the reaction that she had hoped for.

Clenching her jaw and staring grimly at the pencils in her hand – without any real reason, except that she needed to focus her anger onto something else than herself – Clarke headed towards her tent.

She hadn’t even walked half a minute, when she heard snow crunching under the weight of heavy footsteps, following her.

Not really wanting to talk to anyone right now, Clarke quickened her pace slightly in hope to be  at her tent before the other person.

“Hey, Clarke, wait up!”

Clarke suppressed the groan that wanted to escape and ignored him. Anybody was more welcome than he right now. Even Finn would be more welcome than him!

She made another few steps before something touched her shoulder. Spinning around and simultaneously stepping back two feet, Clarke stuffed her hands into her jacket to keep them from doing something irrational.

“Clarke, wait.”

Bellamy stood in front of her, without a jacket, his Henley already carrying small spots of white snow, and his breath forming clouds in the air. He looked strange. Not because of the snow, or the lack of weather-appropriate clothing, but because his eyes were open wide, his injured arm pressed to his chest where it held onto something, and his whole posture shyer and more uncertain than she had seen him in a long time.

If she had been in a better mindset and mood, she would have asked him if he was alright. That, or if he wanted to die of hypothermia, walking around in the middle of winter without a jacket or scarf.

She wasn’t though, so she just stared at him expectantly. He wanted something from her, not the other way around.

“I wanted to ask you something…”

“Obviously.”

Clarke saw how his head moved slightly back at the tone of her voice, apparently surprised.

“O-kay… Are you alright?”

“Great,” Clarke huffed at her own lie, “that’s it?”

“Woa Princess, who pissed in your stew?! I just wanted to ask you something, no reason to bite!”

“What do you want Bellamy? I am getting cold.” Another lie.

“Okay, let’s go to your tent, then we can talk.”

That was probably one of the last things Clarke wanted to do right now, but Bellamy was already heading towards her tent, throwing an expectant glance over his shoulder.

“I thought you were cold?”

Dick!

She repressed the comment, and followed him, catching up with him just before he could enter her tent, stepping around and pushing the tarp aside herself. Hoping that he would maybe not follow, Clarke stepped inside. She headed towards the three candles that she had inside and lit them, as well as the dim light hanging over her bed.

A moment of wishful thinking later, Bellamy followed her, now too standing inside of her tent.

They stood facing each other for several long moments, Clarke frustrated with his stubbornness, and Bellamy clearly trying to figure something out. His fingers flexed over the bundle he still held pressed to his chest.

“So, I know that that’s not how it’s supposed to go, but… Did you… Is this from you?” His voice was so much weaker than Clarke was used to, and his body languages had shifted so that he appeared to be much smaller; shyer.

He slightly lifted the bundle, and only then Clarke recognized what it was.

It was her present – well, his –, the present that she had made for him, carefully wrapped back up in its leather cover. Why did he want to know that? Did he want to call her out on it? Tell her that she stepped over some sort of line? Point out all the features of his mother that she had done wrong?

Grinding her teeth, Clarke straightened herself up and stared him dead in the eye.

Then, she nodded.

The next few seconds happened in slow motion, allowing Clarke to take in every little detail.

Bellamy’s expression turned into something she had never seen before on him, before his shoulder straightened up again. Clarke watched his upper body lean forward slightly, saw his thighs tensing before taking a step and followed him with her eyes as he made two more. His bicep flexed, something Clarke could see even through his jacket, and then a hand moved away from his body, freckled fingers holding the leather-bound present. She watched as he placed it onto her bed, close to her pillow, before his fingers retreated, gently brushing over the surface. The hand fell back to his side, and then his whole body turned, his head first, making the curls sway slightly from left to right. She saw his chest rise and fall with a breath, and then saw his legs move again, one step, two. The third stopped only inches in front of her, allowing her to zoom in on his face for more detail. She could see freckles climbing over his cheekbones and clinging to his nose, the shade of a beard around his jaw and a nervous muscle tick under his skin. His eyes were trained on her face and the strange expression was still there.

Clarke saw all that, but still didn’t understand what was happening, when Bellamy shifted closer still.

Then, the slow-motion feeling stopped, and the next thing Clarke saw was… nothing.

Well, not quite. Part of her vision was blocked by a fabric that looked a lot like Bellamy’s Henley but obviously couldn’t have been, and part of her vision was covered by dark curls.

Her body was squeezed tight and held in place by one strong band around her shoulders and one weaker one around her waist. Something pressed into the crook of her neck, making the dark curls come closer to her face, now close enough to gently brush over her forehead.

Then, it dawned in her.

Bellamy was hugging her.

He was hugging her.

And it was not a halfhearted hug either.

There were several things – logical things – that she could have done or maybe even should have done, but Clarke did none of them. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his middle, moved her head closer to his neck, and nestled herself deeper into his embrace. It instantly felt right, and she didn’t allow her head to question her heart.

Honestly, she didn’t really know why she did that, but it just felt right. No matter how she felt towards Bellamy sometimes, and how much he could piss her off, she had barely felt this comfortable in someone’s arms.

“…you…” Clarke wasn’t sure if she heard him speak or if it was just in her head.

“Thank you…” This time, his voice was a bit stronger, and she could feel the vibrations of his chest against her own. “It’s been so long since I saw her…”

Something moist touched the side of her neck, and Clarke wasn’t sure if it were his lips or tears. Either way, she just tightened her grip on him, knowing exactly how much I hurt to lose a parent and how much they were missed.

They stayed like that for a long time, and Clarke didn’t question the whole situation once.

Neither of them said anything, but she knew instinctively how much their hug meant to him in the moment.

At some point, many minutes later, Bellamy pulled back slightly, and Clarke could see a hint of red in his eyes.

“Thank you!” Bellamy had said it before, mumbled it many times into her neck and shoulder, but somehow this felt more personal, felt deeper and more intimate.

“I am glad that you like it, but it’s not a big deal…”

“It is!” The fire with which he suddenly spoke surprised Clarke, but not enough to step back from where she stood, mere inches away from his body, and still in reach of his warmth, scent and arms. “No one ever did something like that for me, Prin– Clarke!”

She noticed the switch of names, of course she did. Where she normally would have nodded at him approvingly to use her real name, she now sort of missed the way the word sounded coming from his lips in moments similar to this. In moments when the bite was gone and only softness and warmth was left. They were rare but they existed

She didn’t know what to say to that. If what he said was true, then it was really sad, but that was hardly something she could say. So, she shrugged, hoping that it would be enough to convince him that they were good.

Bellamy’s eyes pinched together for a split second, and then he was in her space again. She felt his hands cupping her face, thumbs stroking over her cheekbones once, before he lowered his face to her. His lips pressed against her in determination, but not forcefully, as if he wanted to convey his point that way.

Clarke didn’t move. Neither did she pull back, or she participate in the kiss, too dumbstruck at what was happening to fully function.

Nearly as quickly as he initiated the kiss, Bellamy pulled back, his hands falling from her face. He took one, two, three steps back and Clarke could have sworn that his face grew darker from embarrassment.

“Ah, shit! Fuck, sorry! I didn’t mean to do that!”

Where Clarke had been slightly overrun a moment ago, something in her shifted and made her ears peak up at that comment.

“Oh no?”

Bellamy shook his head but simultaneously grew a note darker still and lifted his hands slightly in a helpless motion.

“Yes! No! Well, I mean– “

Bellamy couldn’t finish the sentence thought, because now it was Clarke’s turn to step into his arms and kiss him. Being now aware of what had happening, she notices that Bellamy’s lips were soft, but also slightly chipped due to the cold, and partly worried where his teeth could find something to nibble on.

She allowed her arms to link behind his back, loose enough for him to always get away if he wanted to, but tight enough to hopefully show him that she meant what she was doing.

After three seconds, and a short goodbye-peck to the scar on his upper lip, Clarke pulled back enough to look at him properly.

He looked as dumbstruck as she had felt only a few moments ago, so she decided to get him out of his confused misery.

“For the record? I did mean to do that. That okay?”

A grin exploded on Bellamy’s lips and Clarke felt his fingers brush over her waist. There was a soft expression to his face, mixed with a hunger that Clarke really wanted to explore some more, see more often and learn how far it would go.

“Yeah. Very okay!”

Both of them moved at the same time, Clarke pulling herself a bit closer to his body, while Bellamy’s free hand moved to the side of her head, weaving his fingers through her hair and guiding her closer.

Their third kiss was much better than the previous ones. Not perfect yet, but close to it, and got better with each passing second as they learned what the other liked.

It was Clarke who led him towards her bed, Bellamy who started to kiss along her jaw. Her hands that gently placed her present onto the side stand, and his that started to wander underneath clothing.

---∞---

It was warm when Clarke woke up. Normally, it was always cold , but this time something warm was sprawled over and snuggled into her chest. The air was different too, heavier, and smelled so much better than the usual stale smell. Clarke and tired, but content.

The warm weight on top of her shifted slightly, and she looked down.

A head of dark curls rested on top of her chest but was close enough for her to press a kiss to the forehead if she wanted to. She wanted to. One freckled-covered arm was thrown over her abdomen while the other was curled around her shoulder. A blanket was thrown over both of them and covered his back as well as their legs. Legs that were tangled with each other and kept them lock to the other body. Hips that rested side by side, gently pressing together.

Clarke was a bit surprised at the sight that was in front of her. Not because she didn’t know how he got into her bed, the memories of that were still very much alive in her mind, but that Bellamy was a cuddler. She could have guessed that, but even if she had tried, she wouldn’t have thought that he liked sleeping like that. She would have thought that he maybe liked being the big spoon or something, but to find them like that – out cold and comfortable – sleeping on her chest, was something she could get used to.

That way, Clarke was warm all over, a reassuring weight on top of her, and the opportunity to run her fingers through the untamed mess of curls.

Doing just that, Clarke listened as a soft hum escaped Bellamy’s throat, vibrating through her own chest, a huff of warm air ghosting over her skin.

Clarke smiled to herself.

If she had told herself twelve days ago, that she would end up in bed with Bellamy and would be happy about it, she surely would have hit herself. Yet, though, she looked forward to doing it again, to wake up again to someone next – or like today – on top of her, having someone she could rely on. She was already looking forward to discovering more things about Bellamy, discover if he was a morning person, liked cuddles while awake as well, see how he would fall asleep from exhaustion at the end of a long day.

She was sure that he wouldn’t change the way he was – not over one night at least – and that he was still going to be a pain in the ass, and a dick at times, but as far as they had cleared the air before falling asleep, he was now her pain in the ass.

Clarke pressed another kiss to his forehead, listened to the soft hum that followed and closed her eyes again, a smile on her lips.

How a thoughtful gift could change a relationship.