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Clarke Griffin lived directly above Bellamy Blake. And because she lived directly above him, it meant that she could hear everything he did down there, just one level below. And no, it wasn’t like she could hear him getting it on down there (even though she totally could), but she could hear him doing the strangest things.
One night, Clarke was lying in bed when she heard him yelling at his TV about the historical inaccuracy’s displayed on the history channel. It went on for 3 hours.
The next night, he decided that vacuuming at 2am was something that apparently couldn’t wait until morning.
Last night, he began baking cookies at 4am. And dammit if they didn’t smell so good that Clarke walked herself down the flight of stairs separating their apartment and banged on his door until he gave her some.
And there might have been one time when she swore he had set his apartment on fire and she ran down the stairs to find him walking around the halls in a towel testing to see if the smoke detectors in their shitty building actually worked after the faulty, smoking wires in his bathroom failed to set off the alarm.
Of course he always dismissed his actions and told her to “Relax princess, I’ve got this under control.” A smirk always gracing his face for a split second before he resumed whatever new preposterous activity he had decided to take on that day.
Clarke couldn’t deny that that smirk wasn’t always so awful. Especially the time involving the towel.
So here she was, two weeks before Thanksgiving, clinging to the ledge outside of her window, putting up Christmas lights.
Clarke moved slowly, using duct tape to secure the lights around the outside of her window frame, because no one would be able to see the tape from the road right? Right.
Snow was pelting her face and Clarke was pretty sure her fingers were going to freeze off when all of the sudden…she slipped. Big time.
Clarke wasn’t exactly fast enough to grab onto the ledge with the hand holding the tape, and in what seemed like a moment slowed down by time, she realized that she was going to fall off the ledge and probably die. Yep, she was definitely going to die. And then they were going to find her in her cat pajamas and those dirty uggs she said she was going to get rid of—but they were just so damn comfy—and that would be her lasting image on the world. The crazy girl hanging Christmas lights two weeks before Thanksgiving that fell off the ledge outside her window.
Perfect.
She landed with a loud thump. Clarke was pretty sure she blacked out for second, but the next thing she knew, Bellamy Blake was crouched over her and waving a hand back and forth in front of her face.
“Clarke? Clarke?” His deep voice repeated, sounding worried.
“Yeah?” She managed to choke out.
“For fucks sake Clarke, were you just hanging Christmas lights? It’s not even Thanksgiving yet! And why the hell are you duct taping them to your window?” He reached out his hand to help her up. Clarke took the offer and noticed how warm and inviting his large hand was.
“I was putting them up—“ she wobbled a bit once she was standing, “because I’m going home for 2 weeks and I wanted them up before the snow got worse.”
“Clarke,” Bellamy looked at her intensely, “I was watching the snow outside my window, when I literally saw your cat pajama covered body fall from the sky.” He couldn’t hold it in any longer and started laughing.
“Well I’m glad my pain amuses you, but it’s not like you don’t do weird shit all the time either!”
Bellamy looked genuinely offended, “Me? I’m not the one falling from a second story building and giving people heart attacks.”
“Bellamy,” Clarke started, “you keep me up for hours almost every night! Your ranting, your cooking; you own the loudest vacuum in the world!”
Bellamy tilted his head back and grinned. “Has it ever occurred to you that I do all of those things because every time that I do, you come down to my apartment?”
“I can’t say that I hadn’t hoped that was the reason.” Clarke matched his grin, maybe she was a little loopy from falling off her apartment ledge, but this was definitely shaping up to be a stellar day.
“Good,” Bellamy said, stepping closer to her, “then my plan succeeded.”
And with that, he wrapped his arms around Clarke’s waste and pulled her into a long, slow kiss.
“See you in 2 weeks princess.”