A/N: I know, I know. I should be writing a kick-ass post 2x16 fic. I've got an idea in my head, but for some reason I'm struggling to write it. Somehow THIS story popped into my head, and I actually really love it. I had the idea, and then the lyrics of the song filled out the rest of it. I hope people enjoy it.
DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own The 100 or any of the characters; I do not own any songs or lyrics used in this fic
In Case of Emergency
And they said I couldn't love you, and that it would never last
He's just a crazy boy; just look at his past
And they said I couldn't love you, but that was just a lie;
I couldn't love you more if I tried
Ed McCain, Couldn't Love You More
His phone is ringing, and Bellamy Blake is ready to throw it through the window. All his friends are texting him about the party he decided he was not attending (how are most of his good friends the same age as his sister? Wait, don't answer that, he already knows why). Only now he wishes he had, because his phone is vibrating off his bedside table.
It's three in the morning (three in the flipping morning) when his phone starts ringing. He reaches over and grabs it, eyes still closed so he doesn't know who's calling him (his money is on Octavia, with her wide puppy-dog eyes and lower lip, trembling "Bellamy" into her phone). He answers with "Stupid-asshole-this-better-be-important" muttered from between his teeth.
"Hello?"
He doesn't recognise the voice; definitely not Octavia. "Who is this?"
"I'm calling from St. Jude's Hospital. You're number was down as a patient's emergency contact."
Bellamy sits up in the bed, slowly. "Whose emergency contact?"
Fifteen minutes later he is slipping over shiny floors, his eyes roaming the emergency ward. There are people laid in beds, holding broken arms and cursing untied shoes. He searches, until a golden head pops into his line of vision.
"Clarke, what happened?"
She opens her eyes, sitting up when she realises he's there. She winces, hand to her head. "Bellamy? What are you doing here?"
"The hospital called." His eyes widen over the red patch on her temple, messily covered by a thick plaster. "What the hell happened to you?"
She flinches. "Don't freak out-"
"Don't tell me not to freak out. Tell me what the fuck caused the gash in your head?"
"I have a headache here."
He wants to tell her that he feels like he's having a heart attack; but instead he takes a deep breath. "Can I get you anything?"
The corners of her mouth lift. "Some water would be nice."
He gives her a pat on the knee. "I'll be back in five minutes."
"Have you seen Octavia?"
He turns his head, closing the door of the fridge. He normally avoids his sister's friends, girls that stare at him with hearts over their eyes. But this girl's different. He knows her, of course. She's Clarke Griffin, the darling of the town, daughter to the lead surgeon and the best mechanic.
His sister's only fourteen, which makes Clarke that age too. And it's really gross and disgusting, but his eyes are drawn to the top part of her bikini. Hastily he lifts his eyes upwards.
"Out on the lawn," he says gruffly. She gives him a quick smile before reaching forward to take the can of coke he's holding. She takes a long gulp, her throat moving as it slips down, before handing it back to him. And then she smiles, the sunlight breaking through the cloud. "Thanks," she says, before flicking her golden hair behind her shoulders and going towards the front.
The hand holding his coke still tingles.
Out in the hall, he sees most of his sister's (and Clarke's) year are in the emergency room. Fox and Roma begin to approach him, but he heads in the other direction, looking for a water cool.
"Hey." Bellamy turns and sees Finn Collins coming towards him. They call him Spacewalker, because he's gotten the highest score on the game at the arcade. "How's Clarke?"
Bellamy narrows his eyes. "What're you doing here?"
"I saw the accident – practically everyone did." He shuffles on his feet, putting his hands in his pockets, like he's Mr. Cool. "How's she doing?"
"She's fine," he says, though he has no clue. "She could be here a while, so you might wanna head back."
He shrugs. "I don't mind waiting." His dark eyes hover over Bellamy. "You and Clarke are broken up, right?"
Like that would stop you. He knows for a fact that Spacewalker has a girlfriend, a bit younger than him. So does Clarke, though she insists that he's just a friend, that he doesn't mean anything by it. But Bellamy sees the way he grins – leers – at her. And yeah, maybe he and Clarke are broken up, but he's not about to let Spacewalker take advantage of her.
"Yeah, we are. Isn't that Raven down the hall?" Finn glances behind, and Bellamy takes the opportunity to escape Spacewalker's grasp.
"So," Clarke says, her mouth pressed against his. "I have a confession to make."
Bellamy's hands move her shirt up, touching her stomach, going towards her chest. "What's that?" he says, without stopping.
"Octavia told me to distract you so you wouldn't hover over her."
Bellamy moves his head back. "Why?" he asks.
"Because she doesn't need her big brother guarding her." Clarke gives him a lazy smile, her hands on his neck. "I volunteered, actually."
For once his mind isn't focused on Octavia. He stares at Clarke, feeling his own lips curve. "Oh yeah? Is this what she had in mind?"
She lets out a little giggle, something that is rare from Clarke, especially after her dad died a year and a half ago. "Knowing Octavia, probably. But she never told me to." She runs a hand through his hair. "I've been wanting to kiss you for a while now."
If it wasn't for the fact he was holding her, he would probably break out into a tap-dance – and he doesn't dance. "Is that so?"
"I suppose you've only wanted to kiss me since you drank that fourth beer?"
He bends closer. He loves the smell of her skin, something floral and sweet. "Actually, I've wanted to kiss you since you were fourteen."
"You were seventeen."
"So?"
She slaps him on the arm, laughing. "Pervert!" She's about to say something else, but she smells too good and he's kissing her again. She breathes deeply, and he loves how she relaxes against him.
He comes back through the sliding glass doors, holding two impossibly tiny cups of water. By Clarke's bed he sees a shape and he picks up speed, thinking (hoping) it's the doctor. Instead he realises it's Wells, Clarke's best friend. Bellamy's heart sinks. If he dislikes Spacewalker, he hates Wells. He knows Clarke loves him and all, but he's seen the moon-eyes that Wells makes when he looks at her. He knows that Wells wants more than just friendship, but when he spouted this theory to Clarke, she laughed. "Wells is like a brother to me," she had said, but he noticed that she didn't deny it. "I've never felt anything romantic for him."
While they were going out, Bellamy kept his interaction with Wells to a bare minimum. Whenever they did hang out, their conversations were comprised of insults and snipes.
"...are you sure Clarke?" he hears Wells say.
Clarke sits up. "Don't you dare Wells," she threatens, a glint in her eye, and Bellamy feels his stomach unclench.
"Take it easy," he snaps. "Lie back down."
"I'm fine," she returns, but he notices that her tone is softer when she speaks to him. Wells does too.
"I was just telling her that she should have called her mom," he says. "It's not like she's not going to hear about it Clarke. She'd want to know-"
"I told you, I don't want her here."
"She would know what to do." He feels Wells' gaze slide over to him, his implications clear.
"What are you doing here anyway?"
His eyes narrow. "I live next door to her, remember? I'm giving her a lift home when she's done."
"I'll do it." He sees Wells open his mouth to object. "I've not been dragged out of bed for no damn reason."
"You should go Blake. I'll take her home."
"I said-"
"Enough!" Clarke's raised voice, along with theirs, attracts looks from others. "I've already got a bloody headache. I don't need you two making it worse." Her eyes land on Bellamy and he's about to throw the water in their faces – both of them – when she looks at Wells. "Bellamy said he would give me a lift. You should go Wells. You know your dad'll be worried if you're not home."
"Clarke," he says, and he looks back at Bellamy. He can already hear Jaha's voice, pleading with her: I was your friend first... We've grown up together... He's a jerk...
"Seriously Wells. I'm fine."
He shoots Clarke another look before leaving, shoving Bellamy's shoulder as he passes. Another time, another place, but right now Clarke's the priority. "I got you water," he says. He passes one of the cups to her. "I got two, because these things are barely bigger than a mouthful."
"Thanks." She takes a gulp of water, and then the other one.
Gently he sits on the bed next to her. "So are you gonna tell me what happened?"
Her eyes, pools of clear water that betray her every emotion, look at him. "Promise you won't get mad."
His stomach drops. "Not only do you now have to tell me, nothing could worry me more."
She presses her lips together, though he's sure she's amused. Or happy. "We were at the party, and some of the kids were on the roof. They were pretty drunk, and Murphy was threatening to throw beer bottles at them. I went up there to tell them to stop-"
"You went up there?" He stares at her. "Since when are you so stupid? Even Octavia would know better than to climb on the roof with a bunch of drunks-"
"I wasn't drunk-"
"I don't care-"
"Anyway," she sees, still glowering at him. "I was on the roof, and Murphy pretended to make a grab for me. I slipped, and we both fell-"
"MURPHY!"
"Yo!" a person calls from behind a curtain. Bellamy swings it back, finds Murphy lying on a bed, his arm in a cast. "What's up buttercup?"
His hand grips the boy's shirt (he wants his throat) and lifts him up. Ignoring shouts of protest, he yells, "You could have killed her, you fucking asshole! Or do you not care-"
"I never asked her to come on the roof-"
"I DON'T CARE-"
"BELLAMY!" Clarke is up, and grabs his arm, yanking him backwards. He turns to her, her golden hair and bright eyes the only thing that makes him pause. "Stop it! It wasn't his fault, I slipped."
"Don't worry, I'm going to kill you after him. You could have died, for God's sake."
"Okay!" A doctor appears in the room, flanked by three or four nurses. "How about everyone just calms down and lets us do our jobs?" His gaze slides to Bellamy before reaching over to her. "What happened here, Clarke?"
"She decided to go climbing rooftops for entertainment," says Bellamy. Clarke shoots him a glare.
The doctor looks at him, eyebrows raised. "Bellamy Blake?"
He blinks. "Yeah? How do you know?"
"I work with Abby Griffin." He smiles, the skin next to his eyes crinkling. "She talks a lot about you."
"That's not good," he says, glancing at Clarke. She blushes.
"I'll say. How 'bout we get her daughter checked out, okay? I know this is the emergency room, but we don't need you injuring people in here and keeping us busy." He smiles at Clarke and sits her back on the bed. "Now Clarke, what insanity possessed you this time?"
Bellamy grins.
Everyone talks about them. They said that the two of them wouldn't last two weeks together. A girl that lives in a mansion and a boy that stays in a dingy apartment? A girl with a bright future ahead of her, and a boy that was destined to be working in bars for the rest of his life? A girl who's not even eighteen and a boy that's in his twenties? You could practically hear the bets people were taking. From what he heard, two months was the longest anyone vouched for them.
He's pleased that he and Clarke beat them. Seven months, two weeks and five days they lasted.
Until they didn't.
"I'm fine," Clarke insists.
"Like hell you are," snaps Bellamy. He shouldn't be driving, he's that angry. And Clarke, well, she has a college degree in making him mad. "You heard the doctor. You need to be kept an eye on for twenty four hours." He shakes his head. "I can't believe I'm agreeing with Jaha, but I should have called your mom."
"Yeah, but you wouldn't." She says it quietly. And she's right; Bellamy wouldn't. He knows the issues Clarke has with her mother.
He pulls up in front of her house, and takes her to the door. Normally they would be kissing, hanging off each other before he released her; but now they look at each other, hands apart.
"Well, I'd better-" he starts to say.
"You're leaving me?" Clarke's eyes widen. "The doctor said that I had to be watched. You're seriously not going to leave me alone?"
He glances down. "I didn't think you'd want me."
"Bell." He raises his head. Her eyes are bright, shining. She quickly brushes at her face. "Everyone in my grade was there, even Wells and Finn. But you're the one that I've put in as my emergency contact." He feels her hand slip into his, soft skin. "I love you."
He coughs. "You love me?"
She nods, and she's laughing again. "Yeah, I do. And you don't have to-"
He presses his lips onto hers, his touch feverish. "I love you too," he murmurs.
"'Cause I know how high your list is. I know that your mom and Octavia are the only people-"
"Princess." He smiles as she stills, and he wants to laugh because Clarke's never known how to be quiet. "You're on that list."
They stand there for a good ten minutes, kissing. "These last two weeks have been hell," he murmurs truthfully.
"Then how about we just pretend they didn't happen?"
He walks her upstairs, past her mother's room. He can see Jaha's light is on, and he closes the curtains as the sun begins to rise. Clarke is wearing her pyjama bottoms and an old sweatshirt of his. He curls up beside her, and she leans against him. "Let's not worry about the future anymore, agreed?"
"Agreed." She closes her eyes, that smile still worn on her face. "Besides, it was a stupid fight."
"Hmm?"
"Yeah. If anyone can beat the odds, it's us."
Long after they've both fallen asleep, he's still smiling.
Hours to make. Seconds to comment.
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