Work Text:
It’s three on a sunday afternoon when Clarke’s doorbell rings. She’s just gotten back from the hospital, taken a shower and is ready to start the most intense session of binge-watching ever made by man when it happens, too.
Annoyed, she gets up from the couch to open the door, only to find a tall, tanned, curly haired sculpture young man behind it. “Bellamy?” she says, confused. Bellamy Blake is her neighbor -well, sort of. He lives on the building next to hers and his apartment’s window is directly in front of hers, so they've had a few conversations in the early mornings and late nights (though the first ones were not so much conversations as they were arguments because,well, they’re both too stubborn to admit defeat) and she considers him a sort-of friend.
“I need shelter.” is his only response. He looks worried and there’s a tone of urgency to his voice, so she steps aside and lets him in. Once he’s seated on her couch, it occurs to her that she’s only eve interacted with this man through a window, he could be a serial killer for all she knows.
But the thing about Bellamy is that he has this protective aura to him that makes it impossible for one to distrust him (he’s told her he has a sister, maybe that’s where the protective aura comes from). Breathing in deeply, she goes to sit on the other couch (the one that’s not facing the Netflix empowered device, god why) and asks him what’s wrong.
He throws her a sheepish look, keeping quiet for an awkward total of two minutes until he breaks, sighing deeply before speaking: “I met my sister’s boyfriend today. It did not go very well.” Clarke can understand it, she’s only heard him mention his sister a few times, but he speaks of her with such fondness she cannot imagine what it must be like to have to share someone you care about so much. Still, Bellamy’s kind of an asshole, (a hot one, with the sculpture-like build and the freckles spread across his face, but still an asshole) and she can only wonder what he did to tick his sister off so much he had to come hide in her apartment.
“They gave you plenty of outs and you still went in for the kill, didn’t you?” she asks with a flat tone. Bellamy protests, first with his eyes, then with his voice:
“The guy was covered in tattoos! What did you want me to say? ‘Oh yes Octavia I’m so glad you’re dating a delinquent!’? Well excuse me for caring for my sister!” he snaps defensively. Clarke is torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to punch him in the arm, because she just wants to watch TV.
“Look, Bellamy, I don’t know what you did to irk your sister so much you’re hiding like you’re the delinquent in my apartment, but Game of Thrones’ fourth season is premiering next month and I need to rewatch three seasons before that happens; so you can move the hell off my couch and sit where I am currently doing so, or you can go to your house, but either way I need you to move.” she says, irritation dripping from her words. Bellamy smirks and it makes her confused.
“What, princess? can’t sit beside me?” He retorts, still smirking. She hears the nickname he gave her the night they met (she was a commandeering drunk, what can she say) and it makes her want to wipe that expression right off his face with her fists.
“Don’t think so highly of yourself, Bellamy, you’re not as hot as you think you are.” she stands up so she can glare at him up close, but he stands from the couch to tower over her, the smug bastard, and continues to smile in her direction, playfulness now showing in his eyes.
“Please, Clarke. It’s not what I think of myself. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” the statement makes Clarke flush to the tips of her ear while she thinks of the days she’s stared seen him working out in his blind-deprived room. Still, she refuses to back down.
“W-well!” she sputters, “If you didn’t want anyone looking YOU SHOULD BUY YOURSELF SOME BLINDS!” Bellamy lets out a throaty laugh, suddenly getting closer to her and whispering in that deep, deep voice of his:
“Who said I didn’t want you to look?” she feels a little breathless, and before she knows it, his hands are on her hips and his lips are on her own.
Needless to say, Clarke doesn’t actually watch anything that day, but she does get a date with her hot neighbor.