The Kind Worth Killing
Idly, Clarke wondered what everyone else was doing at this late hour. Probably enjoying some quiet time by the fire, swapping stories and jokes and passing around moonshine in their sleeves. The Council and guards weren't keen on the teens drinking, but never watched closely enough to stop it. It was one of the rare advantages of their relative invisibility.
Yet here she was, sprawled haphazardly across her bed as Bellamy pored over maps and explained territory disputes that would come up in tomorrows council. "Lincoln says we're missing several streams on our maps. Frankly our maps in general are way out of date. I talked to Raven about making some survey equipment. I'm thinking that since the 47 aren't really being used anyway, we can talk the Council into sending out small groups with foraging groups and..."
On and on, but Clarke wasn't really listening. It had been long days of this, arguing back and forth on how best to negotiate for their people. Lexa wouldn't recognize any other representative for the Sky People. It was surprising she let Bellamy attend at all, but Clarke had been insistent, eager to repair the trust after critical weeks of having to lead alone while Bellamy was her eyes and ears.
Even looking at him, upside down, Clarke could see the intense concentration typical of Bellamy during these conversations; it was exhausting how long he could stay on topic. Suddenly, Clarke remembered a trick from a long time ago, when it was just them on the Earth and every exhausting day ended in hours of tactical argument with this same man. It had taken several days of this routine before Clarke found a way to manage short breaks during their discussions.
"...but I think it was just an accident. I'm hoping that we can just agree to keep the same territory boundaries, despite-"
"I used to think a lot about how I would murder you if I had to do it."
Bellamy, looked sharply up at her interruption. "What are you talking about?"
"Not anymore, just back when we lived with the drop ship. I was never really sure if you would try to kill me, so I was always trying to figure out how I would do it."
He stared for a long moment and Clarke forced an impassive, pleasant look on her face. Slowly, his brow furrowed and his eyes lost some of their focus. Usually, these strange interjections would send Bellamy off his rails for at least 10 or 15 minutes. Plenty of time to ease into a light sleep. She closed her eyes and relaxed, resisting the urge to shuffle around on the off chance it would rouse him back to the real world.
It was finally quiet, but it only lasted a minute.
"How?"
She frowned up at him. How indeed. Had he already figured out this ruse?
He clarified when he saw her frustrated expression, "how were you going to kill me?"
Ah. Once she gave him a scenario, maybe he would meander back into his head again...
"I figured it wouldn't be hard to find a poison." He frowned, still staring right at her.
"That isn't terribly creative, Princess."
"Since when did murder have to be creative?!" She found herself oddly offended.
"I just figured I deserve a little ceremony, some pretense..." He leaned back, arms crossed. He looked to be pouting, but his eyes were wrinkled against a smile.
She smiled, closed her eyes and tilted her head back. It had been a while since they'd done anything this playful. "Well, sometimes I got more creative. Like soaking your boots in blood after a hunt, and then sending you out with bullets that were duds. I figured a jaguar could do the work for me." He snorted. It seems their sense of humor had taken a dark turn, as a team.
"I used to do that too. " Bellamy came and sprawled beside her. The bed wasn't quite wide enough, so their upper arms were wedged against each other. She smiled broadly, grateful for the familiarity, the routine intimacy of their partnership. "You were too well liked to do it directly- stop snorting like that, you were even if you don't think so - so I figured I'd have to make it an accident or something heroic. I thought I'd fall in over a cliff, and pretend I couldn't swim, then drag you through rapids when you tried to help."
She laughed outright. "I thought that if I could slap you in the face hard enough during one of our fights, I could 'accidently' give you brain damage."
"When I was on guard duty, I would try to catch scorpions to leave in your bed and clothes."
"When I was on guard duty, I tried to use glass pieces to magnify sunlight and light your hair on fire."
He snorted helplessly, "I thought about having Miller help me carry your bed out to the river and just set you afloat."
And back and forth they went, laughing, each one more and more absurd as night set in.
Finally, their creativity failed them, and they lay in a companionable silence and dark only broken by dim, stray light from the fire outside.
"We should finish going over the trade agreements," Bellamy sighed, beginning to rise, but Clarke flipped around to grab his shoulders and pin him down.
"I had one other way that I thought about murdering you."
He raised his eyebrow, but didn't move away. A gentle hand curved around her hip, bracing her. "I figured I would hide a knife under my pillow, so when you came in to talk to me.." her hands slid from his shoulders down his chest, then back up to curl into his hair. The stretch had her leaning forward, and his other hand gripped her waist, shifting her more directly over him, head back. "I would lull you into a sense of security.." she eased a leg over him, knees around his waist, "...and lean real close..." her lips are unbearably close to his, but he still doesn't move... "and ease the knife into your neck." Her left hand had left his hair at some point, he's not sure when, and her thumb traces along his pulse point.
He can feel her smile. "Your pulse is racing..." he barks out a quick laugh. "I'm just terrified you're going to murder me." And his fingers curl fiercely into the hair on the back of her head and yanks her down into a kiss.
FIN
