The sun is too bright. It reaches out with its long arms and claws at her face, making her close her eyes tightly and moan. She tries to turn away, but as soon as she moves her head starts spinning and she can feel every pulse of her blood in her temples. She groans and reaches up to run a hand through her tangled blonde hair. She winces as she sits up, still squinting against the sun. She drags herself up along the stark white sheets and leans heavily against the headboard with slumped shoulders. Her mouth is dry and she's wearing the same sparkled, black dress she went out in last night. She can't see herself clearly in the mirror to her right, but she's willing to bet that her make-up is smeared unattractively across her face. She looks around the room through narrowed eyes for her hotel-roommate Octavia, but she's no where to be seen. She must have gotten up at a decent time and went out again. What time was it anyway? She sighs and reaches to the bedside table for her phone, but stops short when something catches her eye. A strangled gasp falls from her lips and she yanks her hand back, holding it as far away from her as she can manage without detaching it from her body.
"Clarke Griffin, what have you done?" She whispers to herself. The white gold, diamond ring mocks her, shining happily in the too bright sun. She can almost hear it saying "That's not your name anymore, is it?" The door clicks open and she jumps out of the bed, a million questions on her lips. "Oh, Octavia, thank god! Please tell me what the hell I did last night. Better yet, tell me this ring is a jo—Bellamy?" Clarke's brows furrow in confusion as the older of the Blake siblings lumbers through her door, coffee and hotel waffles in hand.
"Hangover coffee?" He asks. He gives her an awkward smile and moves past her to set the food down on her nightstand. He turns back to her and swallows hard as he looks her over. His eyes darken and she's suddenly acutely aware of how little her dress covers. She crosses her arms across her chest which probably hurts more than helps considering it pushes her breasts up slightly and she watches Bellamy's eyes trail down. She shifts on her feet and he quickly casts his eyes down to the plush, dark blue carpeting. He clears his throat and scratches the back of his head, a small smirk playing on his lips.
"So, should I start from the beginning or are you only fuzzy on some of the details?" He shakes his head and holds up a hand. "Beginning, right? You know, for a society girl, you really can't hold your liquor." He seems rather pleased with himself and she glowers at him, blue eyes shooting daggers in his direction. She brushes past him and sits on the side of the bed, gathering up the coffee and waffles as she sits. She motions for him to explain and he sits beside her, picking up one of the waffles and dunking it in the syrup to the side of the plate before taking a bite. "What's the last thing you remember?"
Clarke sighs and looks up to the ceiling with a frown and says, "Honestly, I have a very detailed memory of Jasper climbing on stage and doing a striptease before getting us kicked out."
"He got an impressive amount of clothes off in a very short period of time," Bellamy muses, nodding at the memory. "Especially considering he was trying to go slow to 'seduce the ladies.'" Clarke laughs and Bellamy cuts his eyes toward her, smiling softly. Something in how he's looking at her makes her stomach feel warm and she draws in a breath before shaking her head and looking away.
"So, tell me what happened after that," She urges, paying an unnecessary amount of attention to her coffee mug.
"Well, we went a couple more places. Nothing too exciting happened except Monty getting separated from us. He wandered of to some club named MountWeather," Bellamy says with a shake of his head. "Everything in there was white. It was weird."
"Weird name for a club," Clarke comments, staring at her reflection in the dark brown of her drink.
"After that we were all pretty trashed. We walked around for a while and you know, there's a chapel on every corner and you started talking about how much you wanted to get married." He clears his throat and Clarke looks up at him, but quickly turns her gaze back down. "You wouldn't shut up about it," he says with a laugh. He leans his hands on his knees and rubs his thumbs together nervously.
"So, you married me?" She says softly, finally gathering the nerve to look him in the eye. He lets out a breath and his eyes flicker from her lips back up to her eyes. He's the one to break contact this time, turning away from her and nodding to himself.
"I mean, it's not a big deal, right? People do it all the time. It's Vegas. We'll get it annulled and we can forget it ever happened." He nods to himself again and Clarke scoots closer to him, moving her plate and cup back to the bedside table. He looks at her with furrowed brows and frowns.
"What?"
"Where did the ring come from?" Clarke asks. Bellamy sighs and shrugs his shoulders.
"Well, after you finally shut up about getting married you decided you couldn't get married without a ring." He reaches out and takes her hand gently into his, running his thumb over the delicate diamond. "The guy said it was a princess cut. I don't know a lot about rings, but I thought that was fitting."
"Bellamy?" Clarke questions softly. His brown eyes trail slowly from her hand up to her eyes and she smiles at him. "How did you know I take syrup on the side?"
"What do you mean? You've had breakfast at our house a hundred times. That's how you always take your syrup," he says, mouth turned down in confusion.
"Why do you know that?" She laughs and shakes her head. Her blonde hair splays out over her shoulders and he takes a strand between his forefinger and thumb.
"I don't know," he says with a shrug. He pauses for a beat and his face is troubled for a moment as if he's deciding whether or not to say something. "I notice you," he says finally, staring at the hair his has trapped between his fingers.
Clarke smiles again and leans closer to him. She catches his eye again just before she closes the distance between them. He moves his hand from her hair to cradle the side of her face gently. She presses a hand to his chest to steady herself and she can feel his heart beating wildly against her palm. He tastes like syrup and smells like Las Vegas and she doesn't know if she's ever experienced such a wonderful combination.
"We're still getting it annulled," she says when she pulls away. "But maybe we don't have to forget it ever happened, okay?"
"What happens in Vegas, Princess," he says with a stupidly happy grin on his face as he pulls her in for another kiss is all the answer she needs.