Work Text:
“Bellamy?”
Clarke flicked the switch for a fourth time. Nothing.
“Bellamy?”
She fumbled in her bag for her phone, pulling it out and turning the screen on to get a bit of light in the room. She padded into the kitchen, flicking that switch too and groaning when she had no luck. There was no blinking light on the oven either; it was definitely a powercut, which was all they needed with a storm heading their way.
Her phone was down to 10% battery so she sent a quick text to her roommate – Powers out. Phone about to die. Where are you? Need candles and FOOD x
He hadn’t replied by the time her battery drained completely, so she came to the conclusion she was on her own. She stood in the middle of the living room pondering her options. Their building’s super was out of town for the weekend – he’d left a number for an emergency contact, which wouldn’t be much good to her even if she had a phone that worked; the rain was starting to come down fast outside, pounding against the window frame that shook violently as the wind slammed past it – nobody was going to be willing to come out in this.
A bolt of lightning flashed through the sky, making Clarke jump.
“Okay.” She said to herself. “Okay. It’s fine. This is totally fine.”
She went into her room and grabbed her duvet, wanting to be in the living room just in case Bellamy did make it home – but equally hoping that he was safe and dry somewhere, and not outside in the worst storm Seattle had seen in eight years.
The heating can’t have been working either, because Clarke was shivering by the time she’d drawn the curtains and huddled herself onto the sofa, wrapping the duvet around her up to her shoulders. She should try and sleep, wait it out, but there was something unsettling about being in their apartment on her own, in the dark, and her eyes stayed resolutely open, staring at nothing.
Her head jerked upwards at the sound of a key turning in the lock, and she was on her feet and running towards the door before she even knew what she was doing. Bellamy was setting his bag on the floor as she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his neck before she realised he was sopping wet.
“Jeez, you’re soaking!” She exclaimed, pulling away and examining him. “Where were you?”
“At Octavia’s,” Bellamy said, shrugging off his coat. “I got your text and came straight back. You okay?”
Clarke jumped as another rumble of thunder rolled through the sky outside. She looked towards the window before turning back to face him. “Totally. I’m totally fine.” She paused before asking, “How did you get so wet just getting out of a cab?”
“I couldn’t get one.” Bellamy said, heading towards his room. Clarke followed him, not wanting to be on her own. Bellamy continued, “I borrowed Lincoln’s bike.”
Clarke blinked. “You cycled home? Bellamy – they live miles away. You could have been killed! In this weather, that’s so dangerous-”
There was just enough light coming in from the street outside for her to make out his silhouette. Bellamy shrugged before peeling off his t-shirt. He raised an eyebrow as his hand moved to his belt, and Clarke’s mouth opened in a silent little o before turning around to give him some privacy as he changed into dry clothes.
“I couldn’t just leave you here on your own.” Bellamy said. “You’re afraid of the dark.”
“I am not-”
Clarke broke off at the sound of Bellamy’s jeans dropping to the floor. She hitched in a breath before continuing, “I am not scared.” She said.
“Could have fooled me,” Bellamy, now dressed in a pair of pyjamas bottoms and a t-shirt, moved past her to head out of his room and towards the kitchen. “I distinctly remember-”
“That was one time!” Clarke said. “And-”
“You tried to attack me with a cricket bat.”
“I thought you were an intruder.”
“An intruder with a key.” Bellamy said. “And that power cut wasn’t even during a storm and-”
Clarke jumped as another crack of thunder made the room practically shake.
“-And you don’t like storms either, do you?” Bellamy finished. She wasn’t sure if she could genuinely see the amusement on his face, or whether she just knew him well enough to know that it would be there.
“You don’t need to look so delighted about it.” Clarke said sourly.
“Hey, I’m not delighted about anything.” Bellamy said, opening the fridge, which remained dark inside. “You want a yoghurt? This stuff’s going to have gone off by morning.”
Clarke shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”
“Your text said you wanted food.”
“That was for you.” Clarke said, rolling her eyes. “I just wanted the candles.”
Bellamy grinned. “Check my backpack.”
Clarke fumbled her way back to the doorway, where Bellamy had dumped his pack. She unzipped it to reveal a wide selection of scented candles – courtesy of Octavia, no doubt – and Clarke got to work in carrying them over to the coffee table. Bellamy tossed her a box of matches from the kitchen and she had them lit quickly. Breathing a sigh of relief, she sat back on the sofa, watching the flames cast shadow over the walls.
“You don’t want them in your room?” Bellamy asked, settling on the sofa beside her.
“I can’t sleep with all this going on.” She said. “I dunno. I just prefer being out here. You can – you can go to bed, though, if you want.”
“And abandon you in your time of need?” Bellamy said, gently tugging the duvet out of her hands, repositioning it so it covered them both before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her towards him. She responded by draping her legs over his and burrowing her head against his chest.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
“Anytime.”
She wasn’t sure when they’d fallen asleep, but she could vaguely remembering them lying down at one point and Bellamy’s hands wrapping around her middle like he had no intention of letting go. It had almost made her forget the sounds of the storm outside.
His arms were still around her the next morning when she woke, her back against his chest and his breath on her neck. She smiled, moving her hand to interlace it with his.
They’d been roommates for the best part of a year, and despite Raven and Well’s constant attempts to make something happen between them, nothing ever had. And it wasn’t for lack of wanting it to, at least on Clarke’s part; Bellamy was too ridiculously gorgeous for any sane woman not to want to. But he was her roommate, and her friend, and she wasn’t going to ruin that by jumping on him. Not unless she had an invitation. And he’d never given her one. So she’d dated other people, and so had he, but it never seemed to stick.
Bellamy was starting to stir, and Clarke froze before quickly removing her hand. Lots of people like to cuddle when they sleep. Lots of people look after their friends when they’re scared. It didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t an invitation. It wasn’t.
At least, she didn’t think so.
She rolled over to face him, his face so close she could count the freckles across his cheeks, his hand rolling with her so that it now lay flat on her back. Bellamy blinked a few times before he seemed to realise who she was, and then the corners of his lips turned upwards. He seemed in no hurry to move, which she took to be a good sign.
“Morning,” he murmured.
“Hey,” she said, returning his smile.
“Mm,” he said, still sleepy, pulling her towards him and nuzzling his nose in her hair. She stiffened, not quite expecting him to be so forward, and before she could properly respond he’d pulled away as though he’d suddenly realised what he was doing, looking at her with a horrified expression his face. “Sorry. Sorry. I don’t know what I was-”
“It’s okay,” Clarke said. Her arms were around him and she wasn’t quite sure how they got there, and so she quickly sat up before things got any more awkward. “Hey. Listen. Rain’s stopped.”
Bellamy sat up behind her and she could still feel the heat from his chest emanating from his body. Acutely aware of his presence, she jumped off the sofa, announcing that she was going to go and check the electrics.
The power had come back on at some point in the night, and Clarke immediately switched on the coffee machine. Bellamy followed her into the kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck and looking a little sheepish. His hair was sticking up at odd angles and Clarke felt a rush of affection for him that wasn’t helped by the fact that it still felt like he was on her somehow. She smelt like him, and she liked that she smelt like him.
She was staring. She was totally staring.
His biceps looked really big in that t-shirt.
Oh God. She’d found a way to make herself immune to him for the most part – she’d had to, in order to keep him as a roommate - but having spent the night lying next to him, things suddenly seemed…different. And much, much, harder to ignore.
“Clarke, about just now…”
“It was nothing.” Clarke said, focusing very hard on pouring the coffee into twin mugs.
“Was it?”
Clarke spun around. Bellamy was watching her, very carefully, and he had a look in his eye that she’d not seen before. She didn’t answer him. She didn’t know how.
“Clarke?”
Clarke’s gaze flickered to his lips.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Was her voice shaking? She had a feeling her voice was shaking.
“I’m talking about this-” He was across the room with one stride, pressing her against the kitchen counter and clenching her t-shirt with his fists. “I’m talking about how I’ve wanted to do this for so long, but you don’t see me that way, I’m just Bellamy to you, but then I wake up next to you this morning and you’re looking at me, you’re looking at me like-”
“Like what, Bellamy?”
“Like it’s okay that I’m touching you.” He whispered. “But then you froze and - and I have no idea if it’s okay or not. And now you’re looking at me like maybe it was okay-”
“It’s okay.” Clarke said. “It was really, very, okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His mouth hovered just over hers, as though asking for permission one more time, so Clarke leaned upwards to close the distance. The kiss was soft at first, lips barely touching, once, twice, before Clarke’s hand tangled in Bellamy’s hair and she pulled him down closer. He groaned, hitching her up so she was sat on the counter, her legs wrapping around his waist as his tongue slid into her mouth. His hands found the base of the t-shirt again, lifting it up so his palm could slide across the smooth skin of her stomach and up towards her breasts. Her hands were busy finding the waistband of his pyjamas, her fingers just slipping beneath it when –
“Oh, jeez. I come to check the pair of you are still alive and I find out you’ve been manhandling each other.”
Breathless, Bellamy and Clarke broke apart, Clarke’s hands snapping back to her sides. Bellamy gave her an apologetic smile before turning to face his sister. Octavia was staring at them, spare key still in her hand, somehow managing to look amused, annoyed, happy and a little disgusted all at once.
“Clearly, we’re fine.” Bellamy said drily.
“Next time, answer your phone.” Octavia said. “And then I won’t have to witness this ever again. My God.” She wrinkled her nose and pointed in their direction. “Your hand is still up her shirt, by the way.”
Bellamy slid the offending hand out from under Clarke’s shirt, and her skin felt instantly cold at the loss. She placed hers around his waist to make up for it.
“Octavia, I love you,” Bellamy said. “But please go away.”
Octavia folded her arms. “I give you candles, I come over to try and save your life and end up mentally scarred in the process, the least you could do is buy me breakfast.”
“Tomorrow.” Bellamy said, turning back to face Clarke, a smile playing on his face as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m busy.”
Clarke was pretty sure Octavia was rolling her eyes, but she was too absorbed in the way Bellamy was looking at her to properly notice or care.
She was just leaning up to kiss him again when-
“Hello? I’m still here.”
“Go away, Octavia.” Bellamy and Clarke said in unison.
There was a loud huff, some stomping, and then the door slammed shut.
“Now,” Clarke said, her fingers resuming position on the waistband of Bellamy’s pyjamas. “Where were we?”