Disclaimer: I don't own the series The 100 or any of the characters. I am merely borrowing them. All I own is the laptop I wrote this on.

A/N: And I'm back again. I can't get enough of Bellamy and Clarke, and I'm hoping it'll stay this way for a while. I usually move from one ship obsession to another, but this one is sticking. This little scene popped into my head and, once again, I had to get it out. I did my best to stay as true as I could to the characters. Your stories always keep me sane until the next episode airs, so I hope you'll enjoy this. It takes place after "I Am Become Death." Be kind and review at the end please? :)

Skin To Skin

"He felt now that he was not simply close to her, but that he did not know where he ended and she began." - Leo Tolstoy

The epidemic was dying down. Evidence was all around her: more empty cots, less blood in the water, and time on her hands to think of herself. Clarke could put herself last with ease, patient even when she could barely walk a straight line due to fatigue. She was washing her hands when she caught a glimpse of her disheveled exterior. It had never been too much of a concern, though it had been a while since she had felt clean and rested, well rested.

Once all the creases in her hands were clean and the dirt and dried blood was washed from underneath her nails, she looked for a clean enough cloth and began on her face. She had started on her neck when she heard Octavia call for her, standing at the entrance of what had been designated as the quarantine tent.

Clarke dropped the cloth and turned her head, ready to yell instructions ahead of her footsteps. But she saw Bellamy reach his sister first and speak to her briefly before she disappeared back into the tent.

"It can wait!" Bellamy called out the words to her, his brown eyes idling on her a little longer than usual.

Clarke offered up what she hoped was a grateful smile. As she finished cleaning herself up, she had a fleeting thought about how a fresh shirt would be the cherry on top of the process. But clothes were something you found by accident and held on to. She lingered a little longer, sitting down on a makeshift chair and tilting her head upwards at the sun as it broke through the clouds.

A shadow temporarily fell over her, blocking the direct sunlight as Bellamy handed her a cup of water.

"You hungry?" he asked as he watched her down the water in one big, greedy gulp.

Clarke shook her head, like he had expected her to, the admission that followed not surprising him either. "Mostly tired. Exhausted actually."

He nodded, looking down at her as she ran her fingers over her eyes. "You look it." It wasn't meant as an insult, merely as an affirmation of what she was telling him. The concern left out of his voice was conveyed through his expression instead.

"Well, that's what you get when a foreign and possibly fatal virus strikes. The joy of our experimental voyage, right." Clarke propped her elbow on her thigh so she could rest her chin on her hand. Even holding her head up was taking up energy she couldn't really spare. She had reached the end of her rope.

Bellamy followed her gaze to the quarantine tent. "Octavia's got it," he reassured her. "We'll survive for a few hours. You've done enough. Why don't you go and get some rest."

It wasn't a question and Clarke didn't mind this time. It made her feel like at least someone had noticed the toll taking care of everyone was taking on her. She considered his suggestion, her eyes stopping at the tent Finn now shared with Raven. She knew she would be welcomed there, just because they couldn't turn her away. Not after everything she had gone through. Finn would even enjoy it, perhaps see it as some sort of sign from her even when it wasn't. But she had forfeited her place and had made her decision.

"If I had a guarantee I'd be alone… maybe." She dropped her arm, her fingers pulling at the shirt she had on. "Now I don't even have a shirt to spare and blood doesn't just wash out. It's the hardest actually, to get rid of."

"Clarke," Bellamy said her name, pulling her from the disheartening state she was slipping into. "I can get you a clean shirt. Come with me." He held out his hand and she didn't hesitate to place hers in it. His grip was tight as he pulled her up and the hand on the small of her back comforting as he guided her through camp and to his tent.

He held back the tent flap so she could enter first. She stood in the middle of what was now where he came home each night. Bellamy rummaged through a pile of clothes he had managed to collect. He pulled out the cleanest and softest shirt he had; it was all he could offer her.

"I'm afraid I don't have any other sizes," Bellamy quipped when handing the shirt to her.

Clarke let her fingers sink into the fabric, murmuring a 'thank you'. She flicked her eyes upwards, but Bellamy had already turned his away. So she shrugged off her shirt quickly and slipped his on. It wasn't as if she was shy about her body, but having noticed how Bellamy was used to perceiving the female bodies near him, made her thankful he respected the privacy she wanted. The last time she had unveiled her body to someone of the opposite sex, it had turned from a good memory to an act she now regretted.

The sleeves were too long and the fabric hung loosely around her frame, but it was soft and clean. For a split second Bellamy found himself picturing her in just his shirt with her legs and feet both bare. With her big blue eyes averted she looked lost in thought, while the way she had pulled the sleeves over her hands made her appear self-conscious. Either way she was thinking too much, but Bellamy refrained from pointing it out, aware that his usual clever quip might be too sharp for this moment.

He enjoyed her the most like this, her walls down and unafraid of revealing the worries and vulnerabilities she normally guarded so well.

Instead he broke the spell by gently touching his hand to her upper arm. Her eyes were tired as they looked into his. "Thanks for the shirt," she repeated her earlier words. "I need to-"

Bellamy stopped her from leaving the tent, intercepting her body with his own as he came to stand completely in front of her. "You're not going anywhere, Clarke. You won't be of any help to anyone like this. You need to rest," he urged her, tugging at her sleeve so she was now facing his cot.

They stood side by side as Clarke eyed the cot warily. "You're offering me your bed?"

Bellamy nodded. "I'm feeling giving. I usually only share my bed on occasion. When I'm feeling a different kind of giving," he unnecessarily elaborated.

Clarke raised her hand, signaling him to stop. She took a few steps towards the makeshift bed, looking back at him over her shoulder. "What's the catch? What do you want in return?" she pressed on.

"That's dangerous question, don't you think, Princess? I mean, I've got so many answers to that."

Clarke rolled her eyes and opened her mouth, ready to attack. But Bellamy shook his head. "Nothing. We both know this camp needs you as much as it relies on me. But you can't be on your A-game when you can barely keep your eyes open."

Clarke bit her lip, her eyes meeting his.

"I'll be outside if you need me. Get some sleep"

He retreated from the tent, although he remained near its exit, watching as Clarke tentatively sat down on his cot. She took off her shoes, pulling her legs onto the bed as she scooted further onto it. He was momentarily enthralled as she put her blond locks up into a knot before she lay down, resting her head on the make-do pillow and tucking her body beneath the blankets.

For a little while she slept where he did.

When Clarke woke up a few hours later, she immediately felt the weight of someone watching her. She didn't have to look far, finding Bellamy sitting only a few feet away. "What time is it?"

She sounded groggy and he smiled, not bothering to hide it from her. There was no one here besides the two of them. "Late. Most of camp is asleep. You don't have to get up," Bellamy quickly announced, before she could get too restless.

Clarke was relieved. She was comfortable and warm, or at least warmer than he must be, with the blankets pulled up to her chin. "I'll face my reality tomorrow."

Bellamy's lips quirked upwards into a smirk. "So what is this, your fantasy?"

She shivered, partly due to the chill that hung in the air and partly due to the images and feelings his question brought up. Maybe because she was lying in his bed with his eyes on her, eyes that were burning with the warmth she was missing.

"It's getting colder," Bellamy noted as he kicked off his shoes

"What are you doing?" Clarke asked when he got up and shed his jacket.

"I've been up for a while myself," was the explanation Bellamy offered as he began moving towards the bed. "And by your shivering, I presume my body heat will be a welcome addition," he followed up sensibly. "I'll stay on my side."

Clarke shifted so there was room for Bellamy to get in. She had intended on staying on her side, but their two separate sides evaporated almost instantly as she settled against him, the heat radiating off him too inviting and hard to resist.

She felt the chuckle reverberate through his body. "Better?"

"Thank you," Clarke expressed her gratitude once more.

"Hey, I'm very aware of how much the people in camp need you. I need you to keep them in check." Bellamy went on when she didn't say anything. "Don't bother telling me you need me; I think I've heard you say that before. The question is whether you need me more than you need Spacewalker."

The lightness in his tone dissipated when he felt Clarke tense up next to him. He turned his head a little to look at her. "If that's your reality, you're in dire need of a fantasy and I'm happy to give you that for a night." He shifted and put his arm around her.

"Bellamy," Clarke resisted. "I'm not-"

"Just keeping you warm, Princess." Bellamy lifted his other hand from his chest to move it behind his head, but Clarke stopped him. Her fingers gingerly touched against his before she laced them together. She felt so many things and needed the proximity. She needed it to be okay for a night.

Bellamy told himself that he just didn't have the heart to let go.

But, in truth, he didn't want to let go.

Please review? As always, I would love to hear your thoughts on this piece. It's how I grow as a writer. And it's good for the soul. :) I am off to watch episode 11, since I didn't want to spoil myself or let it influence this story. Until the next time, I'll be on here going through one Bellarke fanfiction after another!