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The world outside the cave mouth is unsettlingly silent. The snow beyond their narrow cave falls heavy and silently, blanketing the forest in impenetrable white. It makes the whole world ghostly and quiet. For a minute, standing at the edge of the cave watching the snow fall Clarke can believe that there is nothing else out there, no cities beyond the trees, no roads and cars and people. At her back the crackle of their fire is the only noise and she's trying to be sullen about it. Bellamy has it built into a high ring of rocks where he insists the embers will be protected, will be better able to smolder all night and keep them warm with minimal effort from either of them to maintain it. Even if he's write Clarke doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of telling him that. This is his fucking fault anyway so he'd better have it under control. The scene outside the cave could be idyllic really, if it wasn't for the ferocity of the snow fall, the intensity of the storm. The clouds have blocked out the sun and turned the whole forest an eerie twilight in the middle of the day.
"You said you wanted to try survival camping, Princess," Bellamy says, back pressed against the far wall where the fire has started to warm the stone.
The worst part is that he's right, she did want to try survival camping. That's what Trek is supposed to be all about. She spends half her year in a class room busting her ass to dig her way through History, English, Science, whatever the government expects her to learn to be a productive member of society. The other half of the year she gets to be out in the world. By now she's completed two full years of the program, climbed a glacial mountain, kayaked Haida Gwaii, seen some of the most amazing coastal rain forests that the Pacific Northwest has to offer. And now she's here. Stuck with him. Because of a fucking snow storm. Clarke scowls at the sky, packs more snow into the half wall they've built themselves to try and narrow the already narrow opening of their cave. Snow is good insulation she reminds herself as she straightens, looks at her minimal work.
It could be worse she tells herself. They could have been on a day hike.
As it is they have personal supplies, they have sleeping bags and food thank god. Snow will melt down into water and she thinks she even has a packet of instant hot chocolate stashed in the bottom of her bag. Raven's still got the Fireball Whiskey they were going to doctor it with but separated from the group, off course by only got knows how much it's probably best if she doesn't let herself drink. That could end in homicide. She comes away from the door, sinks back down next to Bellamy Blake where he leans against the wall. His foot is elevated on his pack and the leg of his pants is stretched horribly around the wrapping job she did of his ankle. It's best she could do under the circumstances. At least it doesn't seem broken, he can move it with discomfort. He could mostly get himself into the cave unassisted.
"I should have left you to freeze," she tells him glumly, curling her arms around herself. Even with the fire it's cold and they have to keep it small, enough for a little light, a little warmth. In the middle of a snow storm dry fuel will be limited and they have to make it last.
"But then you'd be alone and cold without a fire," he smirks, smug and insufferable. God, Clarke hates him. Why does the On Trek Solstice camping trip have to be Juniors and Seniors? She could be happily trapped with Monty and Jasper, or even the other, prettier, nicer, less insufferable Blake. Octavia would be a much better cave survival companion than her brother. Who is only right when it is the most frustrating. Like that he did in fact get their fire going when she couldn't.
Clarke has never been so embarrassed in her life as she was watching Bellamy tear a part one of her "just in case" tampons to use the cotton to the catch the spark from a flint. He had just looked at her pink cheeks and rolled his eyes. Reminded her that the only boy in a house with a single mom and a ferocious sister knew plenty about menstruation. That didn't make Clarke feel a lot better about it.
"At least I'd be alone," she grouses, even though they're sitting absolutely side by side to conserve body heat. By the time night rolls around they're going to be freezing cold. Clarke scowls at the rising snow, chews the inside of her lip "I think we're probably going to get snowed in before dark."
"That's okay," Bellamy says with a certainty that she envies "We can worry about that in the morning but for tonight it'll be warmer to have that closed in and the heat trapped in here with us."
"Smoke too," she reminds him.
"Nah, it's funneling out somewhere behind us," he shrugs, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is. Everyone says that Bellamy is the best of all the Seniors in either Trek group. There's worse people to be trapped with.
She thumps her head back against the wall, hood up, toque on, hair in a fat braid over her shoulder. Like that she can barely feel the uneven surface of the wall. For a long time they're quiet. The snow keeps falling, the fire keeps crackling and popping in the half dome of stones that Bellamy built for it. When the wind starts howling outside Clarke squeezes her eyes shut. Helping Bellamy get up from their fall, helping him retrieve his pack, wrap his ankle had taken time and energy and thought. Helping him get up and find somewhere they could take shelter had taken planning and teamwork. Building the fire pit, starting the fire, building their stupid snow door, it had all kept her busy. But trapped in the cave with the snow preventing them from gathering more fuel or trying to find help it was too easy for her thoughts to get away from her. It's particularly easy to think about how well they actually work together. None of this has been easy and God she wants to wring his neck. But he's easy to work with and they anticipate each other well.
“I can hear you thinking too hard, princess,” Bellamy says, muffled by the scarf he has pulled up over his face. Clarke's eyes narrow.
“You know I hate that,” she says huffily. She pushes up off the wall and starts rooting around in her bag again. The wind is getting in passed their door and making her colder. It eats right through her coat.
“What? No,” he drawls. His eyes flash over his scarf and she sort of wants to punch him in his injured ankle. She doesn't because she's a fucking mature, responsible kind of girl and she doesn't need that kind of negative shit in her life.
"Call me that again and I'll gut you like a tauntaun for warmth," she says, pulling and extra pair of wool socks over her gloves to try to keep her hands warmer.
Usually when Bellamy laughs around her he's laughing at her and it's not a pleasant experience. When he's laughing because he thinks she's funny she finds she sort of likes the sound. It's rich and big and it echos in the cave making it seem full and warm. His smile is still too sharp at the edges when he pulls his scarf down but his flash of teeth doesn't seem as threatening as usual. Maybe under all that asshole he's a person after all. His cheeks are very pink with the cold and the freckles stand out darkly against it. She's a little worried that he's got wind burn on his face. It's the least of their problems but it's damn uncomfortable. Indra always tells them that any discomfort, no matter how frivolous it seems is important to remember, to take note of. In survival situations any discomfort distracts you, it demoralizes you and that's the last thing you want.
Clarke figures that trapped in a cave in a blizzard with no one on the camping trip even aware that they're missing yet counts as a survival situation.
Something in her face must read her concern because Bellamy sighs, a hot puff of white in the cold cave and his gloved hand drops over hers. She can't feel anything but the weight of it and it's nice anyway. He squeezes, or she thinks he does. It's hard to tell under all of the layers. Still, it seems like he's offering her comfort and Clarke is primed to take it. She is cold and she's frightened and she isn't sure that she can do this. It's one thing to practice and to think about the what ifs and another thing entirely to be stuck in the situation for real. She squeezes his hand back, or she tries to. It's hard to manage under all of the layers.
The sliver of outside that Clarke can see gets smaller and smaller. The snow falls thick in large flakes that would be awesome if it weren't a snow storm. She and Bellamy were paired up to do orienteering by themselves, a Senior and Junior just like every year. They start from different spots and are told to meet up at base camp. Too bad the storm blew up out of no where and turned visibility to shit. She'd been hoping to get paired up with Raven but the Fates had thought it would be funny to pair her with their ex and leave Clarke with Bellamy. Clarke hadn't even known she was the other woman until their first group camping trip at the end of Clarke's Sophomore year. That had not been a pleasant discovery and she couldn't imagine that Raven was having much more fun with her partner than Clarke was. She hesitated at that and looked over at him in the growing dark, his elevated ankle, his damp, crushed curls.
Okay, since she was probably not trapped in a cave in the snow storm she was almost certainly doing better with her partner than Clarke was. Unless basic team building had provided Raven with the perfect snow storm of cover to hide a homicide. Actually, Raven would probably enjoy that too. Clarke sighed heavily. She was supposed to be having fun with Raven and Octavia, not worrying about freezing to death in a cave with Bellamy.
"It's about to get really, really cold," Bellamy said, pushing himself up as best he could. The snow had stopped but the howling wind persisted. It seemed that it had been enough to blow the cloud cover away and Clarke could see a stripe of black sky and twinkling stars. The clear night was going to be very, very cold. She frowned and looked over at him, still immobilized by his ankle.
Clarke is the one that digs out their sleeping bags, scowls at how to do this without hurting his foot.
Finally she does what they both know they need to and neither will say. Clarke unzips both bags all the way so that she can zip them together. They can both fit in the single large bag this way and it'll be a hell of a lot warmer for both of them. She helps him stand and they empty their bags of anything they can afford to, trying to build themselves a mat to get them off the ground. The damp cold ground will just leech heat from their bodies if they don't get off it.
By the time it's dark Clarke and Bellamy are huddled together under their Frankenstein sleeping bag, their jackets draped over them. Bellamy's metal water bottle sits directly on the embers as the snow turns to water and starts to boil. Moving his leg must have hurt. His face had gone pale under his wind burn but he just grunted at her and moved where she put him. He shakes a little afterwards and she lets him pretend he isn't.
"It could be worse," Bellamy offers when he finally opens his arm, tugs her tight into his side.
Inside the sleeping bag their better off without the coats, they can share body heat better without Gortex between them. But it also means she can feel him better. Clarke isn't sure if she's ready to deal with Bellamy who is warm and hard under her hands, corded with muscle she knows is there and tries not to think about. She's definitely not ready to deal with Bellamy who is being nice to her, who is damn useful in a bad situation.
"If I've got to be stuck with someone it's a good thing it's you," he says, staring at their little fire. Clarke knows he must feel her head lift off his shoulder so she can look at him but he doesn't move. He just stares into the flames, "you're good at all of this stuff. We make a pretty good team."
"Do you have hypothermia?" Clarke asks, tries to make it a joke because this is definitely the weirdest moment they've ever shared.
"Well I do think I'm hot," he grins and it takes Clarke a second to realise he's referencing hypothermia victim's tendency to think they're over heating and shed layers of clothing while they freeze to death. It's not her fault though, it's because the pun is so terrible.
Her groan of disgust earns her a laugh and he does look at her then. His eyes are warm and dark and his cheeks are very pink in the firelight but next to her his body kicking off heat like a furnace. His arm tightens around her shoulders under the sleeping bags and his head dips towards her. If she hadn't seen it with her own two eyes she'd never have believed that his gaze darted to his lips.
"You think I'm annoying," she tells him, maybe to remind him, maybe to remind herself.
"You are annoying," he shrugs and she feels rather than sees it, "you think you know everything, you like to pick fights, and you're bossy as fuck."
"Oh, I'm bossy?" she gasps, eyebrows raising towards the edge of her toque "who told Atom "I wont be disobeyed" over a fucking tarp placement? Which one of us was that?"
"I told you, you liked to fight," Bellamy says and his mouth closes over hers for long enough to steal her breath, "which I think is pretty hot, honestly."
Later Clarke's mouth is bee stung and pink and Bellamy crowds her back into his chest. She is slightly more comfortable pillowed like this and making out definitely helps to pass the time. She watches the fire and feels him breathe against her neck. She tries not to think about being convenient or available or just the only one he was trapped with. She doesn't want to be the girl he fooled around with for lack of anything better to do.
"Anyway," Bellamy says, nuzzling into the back of her neck, "I'm pretty attracted to this whole assertive, survivalist thing you've got going on, Griffin. You're kinda sexy when you're saving my neck. That cool under fire thing is really working for you."
"Are you still going to think that when we're out of this shitty cave?" she asks and immediately wishes she hadn't. Bellamy goes still behind her for a second and then shifts so he can kiss the place where her jaw meets her throat. It earns him a soft moan and she feels him smile against her skin.
"Yeah, I mean, there was a princess, there was saving, that's happily ever after right?" he says, hand tucking under the hem of her shirt to stroke her stomach softly.
"You're not a princess, you're a drama queen," Clarke says, rolls her eyes at him. Bellamy's laugh is warm on her skin.
"Does that mean you'll let me take you to prom?" Clarke laughs at that, only Bellamy Blake would decide he liked a girl because they fell off a rock face they couldn't see was there. She rolls over to look up at him and touches the rough, dry skin where the cold has chapped his cheeks. Of course, she's probably the only one who would go ahead and fall for a guy because they make a good survival team.
“I guess we could do that,” she says, because d'uh. Going to prom with the hot Senior is basically the High School dream, and going to prom with the hot Senior because you fell for each other (literally) on an out trip is the Trek dream. When he moans into her mouth, squeezes his hands against her ribs, she figures she's batting 100.