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“I would just like to state, for the record, that I do not support this half-baked idea of yours.”
“This whole trip was your idea, Clarke,” Bellamy said, grunting a little as he hoisted himself up.
Winter was upon them and they were going to be traveling to the areas Raven had determined would be safe from the melting reactors but they were woefully short on warm clothing and supplies for all the people that would be coming with them. Clarke had suggested a scouting trip.
He and Clarke had left at first light, trekking past the bunker in hopes of acquiring anything else that might be of use to them. After hours of walking and finding nothing but forests, they’d stumbled onto a neighborhood. Most of the homes were destroyed but there was one that was just half-buried in vegetation and Bellamy was currently scaling the wall of it, attempting to reach the small window at the top of the structure, while Clarke growled at him from the ground.
“If you fall and break and your neck, I’m going to kill you.”
Bellamy snorted. “Pretty sure the fall would kill me.”
Clarke closed her eyes, sighing deeply as she tried to reign in another nasty remark. In all honestly, the anger was a cover.
Watching him climb an almost crumbling building was twisting her stomach into knots, for more than one reason. For one, she had watched him almost die far too many times. It was a tradition she would like to abandon. The chance of him falling to his death right in front of her…she shook her head, willing the images of his broken body sprawled on the dirt ground away. She wouldn’t be able to bear it.
The other reason was less dramatic but no less worrisome. As he climbed, she stood beneath, charting his every move carefully and well…his ass was just right there, basically demanding to be seen and appreciated. And Clarke was seeing…and appreciating.
His foot slipped suddenly and he had to cling to the stucco. He grappled at the edge of the roof, his feet slipping until he found a spot where he could plant his boot. “Okay, that’s enough,” Clarke yelled, a tremulous note to her words even though it was now clear he wasn’t going to fall. “Can you please come down now? We can find another way in.”
“Hold on, I’m almost there.”
He wedged himself against the house before grabbing an axe that hung from his belt and hitting the attic window with it. It only took a few swings before the glass shattered. He glanced over his shoulder at her, wearing a shit-eating grin to which Clarke rolled her eyes.
“Very impressive, Bellamy.”
“From now on I want you to call me ‘My Hero.’”
“Yeah, alright. Just, be careful getting inside!” She yelled as he swung his legs through the broken window and wriggled through.
“What do you see?”
“It’s a dark attic, Clarke. Not much to see.”
“Can you get to the rest of the house?”
“Give me a second, here.”
She heard some shuffling and banging, a curse here and there and finally a loud groan of hinges. “Found the ladder down. Hang tight. I’m coming to get you.”
“Be careful!” There was no reply and Clarke turned to face the other desolate, half-hidden houses on the former street. They’d learned about all types of life during Earth studies classes and Clarke could easily imagine the lives that had been lived here before the world ended: children riding their bikes down the street as their parents watched from the yard, dogs running after their owners, neighborhood picnics. How curious to miss something you never experienced.
A startling crash sounded behind her and she whipped around to see Bellamy kicking the door open. He cut away some of the bigger vines before holding his hand out to help her over the threshold. She was almost through when her foot caught on a root and she lost her balance and pitched forward into his arms. He caught her easily and steadied her until she had her feet beneath her.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice rather gruff since she’d plowed into his chest.
“Fine,” she said. “Thanks.”
But he was already moving away, shining his flashlight around the room they were in. It looked exactly as Clarke had expected, except every surface was covered in grimy green garland, interspersed with red bows. One table held a miniature village scene, the tiny houses and people covered in limp decorative snow and in the corner, a tall, brittle tree was laying on its side, ornaments beneath it broken and coated in dust.
The beam of the flashlight lingered over the dead tree. “Well that’s depressing,” Bellamy said.
“It was Christmas,” Clarke said. Her voice sounded small and impossibly sad.
“Cut short,” Bellamy remarked brusquely after giving her a brief look. They did a quick sweep of the house, determining that it was empty of any potential threats before descending into the basement. Clarke immediately started going through the storage containers, looking for useful stuff while Bellamy searched for the generator.
Every home they had come across had one, an emergency provision provided by the government when the worst had been deemed inevitable, and Raven had taught him how to get them running. Most of the time, they didn’t work but every once in a while, Bellamy and Clarke got lucky.
That night, they got lucky.
An uncovered light bulb flickered to life, illuminating the basement, casting creepy shadows over the concrete floor.
“Bravo,” Clarke deadpanned as she threw a sleeping bag at Bellamy. “Between the electricity and the well I saw outside, this place is practically a palace.”
“Only the best for you,” he muttered, grabbing the other camping equipment from her arms. “I’ll take this stuff to the Rover.”
“Thank you,” she said as he bounded up the stairs. He was back a few minutes later and together, they emptied the space of every useful item they found, carrying the stuff upstairs so they could load everything into the Rover.
The lights were on in the house, including the ones hanging on the dead tree.
“We should open those. See if there’s anything useful here.”
There were still a handful of presents scattered around. They sat by the tree, each crossing their legs and grabbing a wrapped gift. Clarke sighed. “This is probably as close to a real Christmas as we’ll ever get again.”
The first gift she opened was a pair of crystal goblets, too delicate for their world. She set them aside, wordlessly creating a ‘Leave’ pile.
“We never had much of a Christmas anyway,” Bellamy muttered, adding a purse and wallet to the discarded pile. His next gift was a fancy scented candle resting in an ornately carved glass bowl. He shook his head before setting it a small distance away, in the ‘Take’ pile.
“Right, sorry,” she said and he shrugged but it wasn’t as casual as he’d been aiming. Clarke could’ve kicked herself. She should’ve known better by now that her former life probably looked like paradise compared to the way Bellamy grew up and she hated being the one to bring up painful memories for him.
Her next present was a set of pajamas with little reindeer on them and Bellamy scoffed when she added it to the ‘Take’ pile. “They’ll keep someone warm,” Clarke insisted and Bellamy just grinned.
“You’d look cute in them,” he said, so softly that Clarke wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly.
On it went, and they were surprised by what they’d managed to compile in the ‘Take’ pile: A ridiculously soft blanket, a few pairs of thermal socks, a tin container filled with what Clarke thought was popcorn, and a bottle of liquor labeled Crown Royal. “A drink fit for a Princess,” Bellamy had remarked before adding it to the ‘Take’ pile. He nearly jumped for joy when he ripped into a package of bullets. “This means that someone who lived here owned a gun.”
“Hopefully they left it.” Clarke couldn’t help but share his enthusiasm. Guns and ammo were the top things on their Christmas list.
The last gift Clarke opened was by far the most exciting: a set of hunting knives. “Finally, something really useful!” She ripped open the package and spread out the knives on the floor between them. She picked up the largest one and ran her thumb along the razor sharp edge. “Okay, I know you’re going to want this one but I’m already in love with it, so it’s mine. That cool with you? Bell?”
He was staring down at a small black box open in his hands. Clarke watched his throat bob as he swallowed deeply and she finally saw that he was reading something. “Bellamy?”
He muttered a curse under his breath as he glanced up. “Sorry, what?”
“What is that?” she asked, indicating the box that was all but swallowed up in his hands.
“Nothing.” He looked down at it again and then gingerly held it out to her. “It’s worthless.”
Inside was a diamond engagement ring, sparkling brightly in the tiny lights.
“It’s beautiful,” Clarke said.
Bellamy scoffed. “It’s tragic.” Clarke looked up curiously at his words. She was surprised to hear anger more than anything else in his voice. Bellamy picked up one of the knives from the floor to avoid her gaze. “Poor bastards; thought they had the rest of their lives to-“ He shook his head. “You ever think about how people were chosen for the Ark?”
It wasn’t a piece of history that was readily discussed. The Ark wasn’t designed to save everyone on Earth when the apocalypse started. People had to be left behind and the choosing, expectedly, wasn’t dignified. It was a lottery-based system and the multitudes that had been left behind fled to various homes of worship to pray to whatever god was left to have mercy but none did.
“Not our finest hour, but it had to be done, one way or another.” Clarke said, the words tasting bitter on her lips.
Bellamy nodded. There wasn’t any point in arguing the finer details. What was done was done and Clarke was rather surprised to find that Bellamy would get so angry over something in the past that he couldn’t have controlled anyway.
“It just sucks. All this,” he gestured grandly around him, searching for a way to describe it: the house, with it’s nature destroyed walls, pictures swollen and aged in their dusty frames, furniture that no doubt housed vermin instead of people now, “life.” He bowed his head, stabbed the knife into the ground. “It’s just all such a waste and for what? For us to come back here and work so damn hard only to die the same way these poor fucks did a hundred years ago?“
“Hey.” She pried his hand from the knife’s blade and wrapped her fingers tightly around his. “We’re going to be okay.”
He exhaled shakily, his lungs straining for all the lives he’d failed and the ones he still felt responsible for and Clarke tightened her fingers around his. “You believe that?”
Clarke nodded. “I have to. We have to.”
“Right.” Bellamy nodded unconvincingly and Clarke sighed.
“I mean, look what we’ve got here.” She grabbed a few of the various things they’d found for their troubles and held them up in his face. “Scented candles, fluffy blankets, bath salts, four hunting knives and bullets that are probably duds. We’re totally prepared for the second apocalypse. I’m not worried at all.” He smiled slightly, brushed his overlong hair out of his eyes as she picked up the last present. It rattled as she held it out to him. “Merry Christmas.”
He rolled his eyes as he tore into it, revealing a wooden chess set. After examining it for a second, he made a move to throw it on the ‘Leave pile’.
“Wait,” Clarke said suddenly. Her eyes were big, sparkling from the little lights on the tree. Lifting the lid from the box, her smile grew as her eyes did, taking in the checkered board and all the carved playing pieces. “It’s a Chess set.”
Bellamy bobbed his head in a nod. “Yep.” Then he gestured with his chin toward the useless pile of shit they’d collected, indicating that she should toss it on the ‘Leave’ pile. “And it won’t keep us alive.”
Either Clarke didn’t hear him or she didn’t care. She set the board between them and was removing the pieces from their little velvet bag, lining them up in their rightful places. When they were all prepared, she looked at him with bright eyes and a timid smile. “Do you know how to play?”
Any other time, he’d have scoffed at her and reminded her that there was no place in their lives for frivolous shit like ‘playing games’. But there, in the little dusty house with the dead Christmas tree and the snow sick light coming through the dirty skylight, he looked up at Clarke Griffin’s careful, somewhat embarrassed smile and said, “Teach me.”
Time got away from him. It was her excitement, her smile as she explained how the pieces work, as she lectured him on how to strategize, the way she’d touch his hand to stop him before he made a stupid move.
She started talking about how her father had taught her and how she used to play with Wells, her voice taking on that quiet, reverent tone and he knew she was sad that they weren’t with her and also happy that she could remember so much about them.
Before he realized it, the sun was low in the sky, the house darkening as twilight blanketed the world.
“Maybe we should stay here for the night.”
Clarke couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. She was exhausted and so was he and they deserved to sleep in a real bed. “Good idea,” she agreed easily. “Wouldn’t be safe to travel at night.”
“Right,” Bellamy nodded, his shoulders sagging with relief.
Bellamy got a fire going while Clarke went on the search for linens. The upstairs closet had piles of white sheets and blankets but they were grimy and rank from years of disuse. She pulled them out anyway, knowing that the best they’d be able to do was beat the dust off them but it was better than a lot of the things they had slept on since coming to Earth.
Below her, the front door opened and closed and she could hear Bellamy’s footsteps thudding along the floor. She was reminded of her quarters on the Ark and the times when she’d watch her parents doing domestic chores like the dishes or laundry, the way they would move around each other, a dance they’d perfected over all their married years. It had always made her feel safe, watching them take care of their home together. Clarke smiled to herself as she came down the stairs, her tired mind flitting over the hope, however slim, that she might one day get to share a life like that with someone she loved.
She found Bellamy in the kitchen, pouring water into a cast iron pot that was hanging over an open flame. “What are you doing?” she asked.
The question was meant to address his shirtless torso and his boxer shorts but he tapped the lip of the pot and said, “Laundry.”
She’d seen him naked and he’d seen her naked, you can’t live the kind of life they do and be shy about it, but Clarke wasn’t use to the casual way he was just standing there in his boxer briefs. He was usually in need of immediate medical care when she saw him in various states of undress.
This, hanging out in a kitchen with him in his underwear, felt much more intimate.
His muscles rippled as he stepped toward her and took the sheets from her suddenly limp arms and dumped them into the pot before eyeing her dirty clothes. “Here,” he held his jacket out to her, “you can wear this while I wash your shirt.”
She just stared at him, at a loss for words. After an uncomfortable moment, he cleared his throat. “I won’t look while you’re changing if that’s what you’re worried about.”
He sounded so unsure, as if he thought he’d done something wrong rather than thoughtful, as if he wasn’t giving her exactly what she had been wanting just moments before, that she laughed. Tension she’d carried for too long drained from her bones. She felt suddenly right in her body, in the world, like she finally understood why they had survived everything that they had faced.
Frowning at her, Bellamy tossed his jacket at her and folded his arms. She caught and held his jacket to her chest, curling her fingers around the rough material as her giggles died down. Her next words flowed out, easy as a breath. “I love you.”
Somehow, he managed to glare at her harder. “What?” he bit out through a tightly clenched jaw.
Clarke laid the jacket on the table and padded over to him. He grew tenser as she stepped into his space and pressed her hand into his chest until she could feel his heart thumping against her palm. His skin was so warm and she wanted to melt against him. He was still glaring but it held no effect on her. She was too completely in love with him to feel anything but joy. “I said, ‘I love you’.”
A long, moment passed, the only sound Bellamy’s long exhale and the boiling water in the pot and then, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
That, at last, threw her off. “Uh…”
“You love me?” he asked and it wasn’t sweet.
Clarke took a step back and matched his glare. “Well, I did a second ago.”
“Because I offered to do your laundry?”
“Well…yeah…I mean there are other reasons but-”
“Unbelievable,” he muttered.
“Bellamy, I don’t understand.” Clarke confessed. Worry was finally starting to claw at her. “Do you not love-“
“You know I dressed up as a grounder and crossed Ice Nation territory, trying to save you.”
“Monty told me something about that,” Clarke said softly.
“Then I still tried to chase you after I got stabbed in the leg.”
“You got Roan back for that,” Clarke said reasonably.
“And then in Polis, I came for you again.”
“I know.”
He nodded and sniffed, ducking his head away from her. “I have done everything I could to help you and support you and protect you…and laundry is what does it.”
It took a moment for his words to sink in but then Clarke breathed out slowly, relief spooling through her taut muscles as he lifted his head. A glint of wetness sparkled in his eyes but there was a small, rueful smile playing along his lips.
“Is that your fucked up way of saying you love me, too?”
He huffed. “Of course I love you, Clarke. Are you blind?”
She smiled, she couldn’t help it, and then she stepped forward and kissed him.
His large hand cupped her cheek as he moved his mouth against hers, swiping his tongue sweetly along the seam of her lips until she sighed. He licked into her mouth, slow and hot, taking his time. His other hand snaked around her back to push her closer. Chest to chest, their hearts beat in tandem.
Clarke curled her arms over his shoulders, tangled her fingers into the curls that had grown down past his neck. She tugged on them and he retaliated by biting her lip. She pulled back just enough to playfully nip at his nose. “I’m sorry this moment wasn’t more dramatic and romantic for you,” she said.
“It’s alright. You’ve got the rest of our lives to make it up to me.”
“Oh, really?”
Bellamy nodded, kissed her nose. “Yep, you’re stuck with me now.”
She tried to kiss him again but her huge grin kind of ruined the effect. “Fine by me. I want you to do my laundry for the rest of our lives.”
Bellamy smiled, fond and sweet while his fingers plucked at the hem of her shirt, his rough knuckles scraping over the delicate skin of her stomach and she shivered in his arms. “Let’s get started,” he said, voice raspier than a second before. Clarke obligingly lifted her arms above her head and Bellamy pulled her shirt off. His hands slipped up her back to toy with the clasp of her bra. Clarke sighed against his lips, kissing him lazily as he pulled her bra away and touched her, light drags of his fingers over all that new skin. Her eyes fell closed when he nosed into her hair, kissing her temple and then dropping his mouth to the sensitive little spot behind her ear.
She tangled her hands into his hair, scratching at his scalp until he groaned. She opened her eyes, so she could see the way her hands looked crawling down his broad back when she saw something out of the corner of her peripheral. “Is that a bathtub?”
A large metal tub sat in the corner and Clarke was sure she was right. A plethora of images of Bellamy wet and soapy and slippery assaulted her. Bellamy looked over his shoulder and nodded. “Yep,” he said shortly, before returning to her neck, tonguing at the thin skin over her pulse. “And thank goodness, ‘cause you are a dirty girl,” he said, as he hooked his thumbs into her belt-loops.
“You’re a dork,” Clarke told him, smacking his ass and he humped into her, grinding his hard cock against her.
It took awhile, but the idea of getting Clarke into a bath was too tempting to pass up so Bellamy pulled away from her and filled up the tub with the hot water he’d been planning to use for laundry. A bath for Clarke and him was a much better use in his eyes. Clarke got the fancy soap from the presents they’d opened earlier and stripped down before getting in the tub. She hissed as she submerged herself in the water
He settled himself behind her. The water was blissfully hot and there wasn’t a lot of room, which was basically perfect. For a second, he tried to be gentlemanly about it and not be all over her but Clarke wasn’t having it. She slid between his legs and laid her back flat against his chest, pulled his arms around her waist, sighing in contentment when he finally surrounded her.
He shifted lower in the water, getting the tops of his shoulders wet and she sunk down with him, her hair gliding up to float on top of the water. He gathered the long blonde locks in his hands and tucked her hair to the side, so he could slide his mouth down her throat, which made her shudder. The soap smelled like lavender and it infused the room, creating a soft atmosphere that wrapped around them. Clarke’s eyes were closed, her mouth parted, the small frown lines between her eyebrows at ease. He kissed her ear and a light, happy sound slipped from her lips and somehow, he was sure no one else had ever heard it.
Bellamy trailed his hands down her stomach and sides, back and forth, languidly. He’d never had a chance to touch her bare skin before, to really indulge in the sensation of his rough hands against her smooth curves, to delight in the contrast of her pale skin under his darker hands. It was intoxicating.
His fingers dragged along the underside of her breasts and she made the best little mewling noise, like a needy kitten. Her hands weren’t idle either. She was tracing the bones in his leg, circling around his knee and he got goose bumps, despite the warmth in the water.
When he finally cupped her breasts, she full out whimpered, “Bellamy.”
It’d be embarrassing to count how many times he’d thought about her tits. They felt every bit as good as he thought they would in his hands. He thumbed at her pert nipples, flicking them gently while she arched into his touch. Every move she made seemed to be hardwired to his dick pressed between her back and his stomach and he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting up against her. She wrapped her arms around his legs so she could scratch her nails up and down his inner thighs, tilted her head back searching for a kiss and Bellamy didn’t disappoint. He licked into her mouth, bit at her bottom lip when it started to tremble. “Fuck,” he breathed on her tongue and Clarke reached for his wrist to guide his hand between her legs.
“Touch me, Bell. Please.” He slipped his fingers past the coarse curls and over her clit to tease her cunt. Even in the water, he could feel how wet she was already. He kept his touches light as he kissed her again, thrusting his tongue into her mouth in matching rhythm to his teasing strokes on her cunt. He tightened his arm around her when her hips canted up into his hand, desperate for more friction. “Don’t be an ass,” Clarke huffed, her voice wrecked and pleading as she threw her head back on his shoulder.
“Can’t help it, it’s in my nature.” She reached for her clit but he caught her wrist. “Allow me.”
“Get on with it, then.” She tried for flippant but it just came out needy. Bellamy fluttered his fingertips over her cunt, lightly tapped on her clit, driving her fucking crazy. “Bell,” she whined and yeah, he was an ass about it but god she sounded great, the breathless plea in her voice, how rough his name sounded on her lips. He ground himself into her lower back and cupped her cunt again, giving her a small amount of pressure. She pushed herself up, rubbing her ass against his cock and he started caressing her folds, massaging her clit lightly.
“Fuck, that’s good.” Her head fell back to his shoulder again and Bellamy sucked at her neck, no doubt leaving marks and then Clarke gripped at his hair, keeping him there, urging him on when he used his teeth. The stubble on his jaw scratched pleasantly against her skin, making Clarke groan. Bellamy started working her in earnest, rubbing tight, quick circles into her clit, pumping his fingers into her cunt. She writhed in his hold, sloshing water over the sides of the tub as she crested closer to release. Bellamy couldn’t stop kissing her skin, running his mouth along the ridge in her shoulder and back up to her ear, biting gently and reveling in every helpless moan he pried from her. “Harder,” she whined and he gave her what she needed, increasing the pressure on her clit, and she clenched her fingers in his hair.
She turned her head to meet his eyes and the raw, open expression on her face shattered him. He had to swallow a few times before he found his voice. “Look at you. Fuck, babe, you’re so gorgeous. Do you know how long I’ve wanted you like this?”
“Me too. Fuck, it’s so good,” she panted. Her hand clamped on his wrist, holding him in place as she strained up. “Fuck, Bellamy. You’re so good. I’m close. I’m almost there.”
“Come on, Clarke,” he whispered in her ear as he sped up his fingers even more. “That’s it. Let go. I wanna watch you come for me.”
And then she was past the edge, body locking into place as she came with a broken moan. He gentled his movements, coaxing her through it until she was shuddering and collapsing back against his chest. Breathing hard, she rested for a few seconds but he was going to die if he didn’t finish himself off. He worked his hand between them and Clarke got the hint, sitting up and turning to kiss his neck as she took his cock in her hands.
Still wrecked form her own orgasm, she stroked him clumsily beneath the water, just enough to get him hard and ready. He lifted up to kiss her as she scooted forward, straddling him and rubbing her sensitive cunt over him. The sweet heat of her was better than the water as she slid down onto him, taking him fully into her on the first thrust. He moaned in surprise, gripping at her hips tightly, probably leaving marks on her. Her breasts were right in his face and he licked at her nipples, hard and wet and Clarke pushed further into the warmth of his mouth.
The water splashed over the sides of the tub as she began to fuck him, slow and deep like she’d always wanted. He was huge, filling every inch of her. She kissed him sloppily and Bellamy caged her into his body, gripping her ass to push her harder between his legs, ruining her angle but they were closer like that, touching everywhere possible, as intimate as two people could get. He bent his knees and Clarke braced her hands on the side of the tub by his shoulders. The edge of the tub dug into his shoulders but he hardly felt the bite of it. At that moment, his world began and ended with Clarke.
It was tight and hot and perfect, Bellamy sliding in to the hilt on the every thrust. He rubbed his thumb into her clit, little circles that drove her wild, fucking her good and deep, grinding against the front wall of her cunt until she was falling apart above him, shaking in his arms and whimpering into his consuming kiss.
She collapsed onto him, spent and happy, mouthing at his shoulders and chest as he ran his hands through her hair and down her back.
They stayed like that until the water was too cold to be enjoyable. Bellamy washed their clothes and hung them up to dry before slipping behind Clarke on the couch. She was in her underwear, beneath the fluffy blanket.
The twinkle lights were still on and Clarke was only awake enough to press back against his chest, sighing contentedly when his warm skin met hers. He wrapped his leg over hers, his arm across her stomach and fell asleep immediately.
In the morning, Bellamy wakes Clarke with soft kisses on her neck. They get up reluctantly, and pack reluctantly, not ready to leave their little haven. When they were ready to leave, Bellamy lingered at the doorway.
“I promise to still love you when we walk outta here,” Clarke said, placing a kiss on his shoulder.
He dragged her eyes from the kitchen, the tub, the warm little living room. Her eyes were warm and sleepy and he loved her so much. She reached for his hand and he laced their fingers together easily. “Me, too,” he promised.
And if Clarke saw him slip the engagement ring he’d opened the night before into his pocket on the way out, she didn’t say a word about it.