Work Text:
The smell of Clarke's vanilla peach shampoo overwhelms Bellamy's nose as he slathers it into his hands. He gently massaged the gooey/bubbly mass into Clarke's hair, rubbing her scalp and neck in the process, paying close attention to the knots in her shoulders. Despite her facing away from him, he can imagine the cute little crease that forms between her eyebrows smooth out as her shoulders droop a bit.
He knows it's been a long day for Clarke, since she came home from her 12 hour shift in the ICU wing of their local hospital and dragged Bellamy away from his desk (where he was grading essays before he was rudely interrupted) and said, "Shower. Now."
Here they were, silently enjoying each other's company until they felt the need to relieve tension by getting out, drying, and having sex or just doing right then an there.
Bellamy really expects to make love his amazingly wonderful girlfriend who he hasn't had a full 20 word conversation (moreso, actual sex, dammit) with for a week because of her work and his school's finals, but Clarke has other ideas.
Before he can massage that one point behind her ear that gets her really going, she turns around with his shampoo and starts to wash his hair. Now, Bellamy was of average height for a guy, but Clarke was a below average height for a girl, so it was endearing watching her go on her tiptoes to wash all of his hair, so he just ducks his head a bit for her and she mutters, "Thanks, butt."
He keeps his hands on her hips to prevent her from falling (seriously, for being a doctor she should be less clumsy, not extremely-topple-over-every-mug-in-the-cabinet-with-one-hand clumsy). He hears her huff in frustration and he chuckles, glancing down at her. He suddenly notices the little crease between her eyebrows is still there, and he's now very worried.
"How was work, babe?"
"Fine."
"That--" he taps the little wrinkle, "does not seem fine to me."
She glares at him and continues to run her hands through his hair. Honestly, all he wants to do is kiss her hard so that the wrinkle goes away forever, but he knows deep, deep down that talking through things is usually better than fucking.
"Princess, we play poker with Octavia, Raven, and Lincoln every Sunday, and I know you've never won a game in, like, three months." Clarke's frown deepens at this and she lowers a hand from his head to gently smack his chest. He pouts a bit and he can see her soften up a bit. Continuing, he says, "But, I know you better than anyone, probably, and I know you know me better than anyone else, too. So if this thing today is bothering you, we can talk about it. Otherwise..."
He reaches a hand down and pinches her ass. She squeaks and flushes pink from her cheeks to her chest. Its honestly the cutest fucking thing Bellamy's ever seen, and he raised the human puppy-dog eye'd Octavia.
"Okay, fine," Clarke says quietly. "It's just..."
She pauses, and he can't seem to figure out why. He nudges her cheek with his nose and she sighs. "Well, it's no big deal, you know? Anyways, how's the weather?"
Bellamy can certainly hear the anxiousness in Clarke's voice, and he knows that this is a time to push her to talk, or else she'll keep it inside and bury herself with it. "Clarke, don't act like this is a big deal and then ask me about the fucking weather. I'd rather talk about cloning mice."
This makes Clarke smile a bit, her hands stopping their ministrations in his hair. The cloning mice topic was actually in reference to another shower talk they had a few weeks ago on whether it was morally legitimate to clone living, sentient animals. This shower talk also led to a lot of not-talking (naked and sweating in bed).
"Who knew mice-cloning could be so sensual?" Clarke snorts.
"Beats me. I didn't take the Hippocratic oath." He smirks and she blesses him with her dazzling smile. He presses a chaste kiss to her lips, feeling her chuckle against his mouth. He brings his hands up to her face and cuts off the kiss before it can become more because he actual has a thing called self control (most of it evaporates into thin air around Clarke, but that's not the point). "I believe we were about to discuss something, Princess."
She sighs, the crease between her eyebrows coming back. "Well, there was a man in the ICU today, and him and his partner were discussing something and it just made me really...upset."
"What was it?"
"They were..." Clarke closes her eyes for a second and then takes a deep breath. When she opens her eyes, she says, "Arguing over Draco Malfoy."
Any normal person would laugh, but Bellamy took the Wizarding World of Harry Potter almost as seriously as Clarke did. Almost.
"Clarke, are you serious?"
She gives him an incredulous look. "Bellamy, I'm not an idiot."
"Draco did a lot of bad shit. He's like Snape 2.0."
"In Deathly Hallows, he redeemed himself!"
"Cry me a river, he's just a little shit."
"Bellamy Blake, are you seriously going to--"
The argument lasts until the water turns cold. Getting out, it continues all the way from dressing to the moment they fall asleep (on opposite sides of the bed; Bellamy hates it, but he's also a stubborn sonofabitch). In the morning, none of them bring it up (he's kinda glad they aren't arguing anymore), but they also keep their distance from each other with a stony silence, avoiding eye contact.
Throughout the day, Bellamy fumes over their argument. Draco Malfoy obviously is still a villain, whether or not he did the right thing in the end.
I can always open up my mind... Bellamy thinks. Just do it for Clarke, for fuck's sake.
He's a history teacher, not a philosophy teacher! His AP Euro class, though, always makes the kids think, and his particular way of teaching always leaves room for confusion and questions (like that one time Clarke came in on a free day and volunteered to help him teach, which led to them dramatically and angrily reciting scenes from Julius Caesar).
That night, they eat dinner in cold silence until the argument started up again after they finish washing dishes.
"Why can't you see that he's obviously conflicted throughout the whole book? He's just a kid!"
Clarke crosses her arms and frowns. Bellamy does the same, puffing out his chest and trying to look more frightening than her (but that's not gonna happen).
"Being a kid doesn't excuse him. He was raised that way and probably doesn't know how else to act."
"You know, Bellamy," Clarke says, resigned, "People can change. They can start thinking differently, too."
Bellamy deflates, running a hand over his face. He then lets out a sigh, saying, "What are we doing?"
Clarke's face goes blank, then she frowns in confusion. "W-what?"
"We're arguing over a fictional character, babe, and honestly? I'm tired and I just want to shower."
Clarke quirks up an eyebrow, the edge of her lips rising up a bit. Her icy blue eyes twinkle with victory. "So you're changing the topic because you know you can't win, right?"
"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not." He reaches out to her and she comes close, hugging him and tucking her head into his shoulder. He nuzzles her hair for a moment, thinking about what to say next. "Sorry for being an idiot. I really do think Draco has redeeming qualities, but I just don't see it happening in the books and movies. Maybe off screen or something?"
He feels Clarke chuckle and kiss his neck. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously hot."
That earns him a slap to the chest, but the smile she gives him when he looks down at her is downright dazzling. Then, it turns mischievous as she slinks out of his arms and leads him by the hand to their bedroom.
"Now that that was resolved, I think we had some unfinished business regarding a shower," she says, her voice low and husky.
Bellamy smirks. "We probably have to take care of that, don't we?"