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Summary
He looks down at her and it's kind of too much, the wine and the emotions of the day coming down on her all at once, and there's something there in the depths of his eyes that's knocking on a door she keeps shut inside. So she buries her face against his upper chest and rests her cheek against him. She can feel his breath against her hair and she can smell his clean, masculine scent and feel the texture of his clean-shaven jawline if she moves her head just so.
His arms tighten around her and she feels like this is the physical manifestation of how they make each other feel safe, the way they'd talked about the night after she'd stitched him up. The way they fit perfectly together, balancing each other as they lean into one another and just hold on through the song.
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Clarke Griffin has whitewater in her blood, and nobody knows the river better than Bellamy Blake. She's intrigued.
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The whitewater kayaking AU that nobody asked for.