Another droplet of sweat slides down Clarke's forehead, and she hastily wipes her forehead with her sleeve. But it's too late; the drop lands on the notepad with a gentle thud and blossoms across the pencil marks.
Clarke lets out a sigh of disappointment. Nothing seems to be going right today.
Just as she flips the page to begin anew, someone knocks on the door.
"Come in," She says exasperatedly, expecting yet another notch on the belt of her less-than-enjoyable day.
But when she sees him, her face softens.
"Hi, Bellamy."
"Hey, princess." He too is soaked in sweat, although the dirt smudges on his face and blood specks on his sleeves suggest he's been hunting.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Clarke sets her sketchbook on the table and leans forward in her seat.
"I, uh, sorta need your help with something." Bellamy's voice is tinged with pain, and Clarke's relaxed expression shifts to one of worry. Her gaze shifts to the specks of blood on his shirt.
"What is it?" She stands.
"It's really no big deal." He notices her concern and attempts to ease it ever so slightly. But time passes quicker on Earth, and she's gotten to know him pretty damn well. Meaning she can tell when he's lying.
"Show me the wound, Bell." She tips her head slightly to the side and gives him a knowing look.
Bellamy winces, then turns around slowly.
Clarke gasps at the sight of an arrow shaft lodged between his shoulder blades.
"Bellamy! What happened?"
"Long story short, some idiot decided he wanted to teach himself archery in the woods to impress a girl." He says gruffly. "He didn't exactly hit his target."
"Who was it?" Clarke demands. "He could have killed you!"
"Don't worry, princess. When I die, it won't be because of a sixteen year old ball of hormones." Bellamy turns back to face Clarke with a lopsided grin.
Clarke rolls her eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
"No, but it will be from an infection if I don't clean that fast. Come on."
—
Clarke sits behind Bellamy in the oddly empty medical ward, a bucket of water and a washcloth placed on the seat beside her.
"One... two..."
Bellamy groans in pain as Clarke pulls out the remaining arrow shards.
"You didn't even count to three," He mutters, gingerly rolling his shoulder.
"You've survived worse," She chuckles, patting his bare shoulder reassuringly. Her hands soon busy themselves with the task of cleaning and then stitching up the wound.
They sit for a while in silence, the only noise coming from the distant sound of the rain on the Ark's metal exterior.
If there was one thing Clarke loved on this Earth, it was the rain. It came and went, leaving the world cleansed and refreshed. It made the sun shine a little brighter afterwards.
Her eyes flicker to the back of Bellamy's head; a mass of dark, untamed curls that always smelled like the forest after rain.
"Are you done?" He asks, noticing her pause.
"Oh, um, not yet." She blinks rapidly, refocusing herself on her task.
"What's on your mind, princess? Usually you don't take this long to fix me up." Bellamy's tone is light, but she can hear a hint of concern underneath it.
"Sorry. I haven't gotten much sleep lately." Clarke says, finishing up his bandage and gently patting his shoulder. Bellamy shifts to face her.
"When was the last time we got enough of that, princess?" He says with a smirk, leaning back on his arms.
"No rest for the wicked, I assume." Clarke says in a weak attempt at humor.
"You're not wicked." His eyes instantly soften. "Even though you're a pain in my ass, Griffin, you're definitely not wicked."
She laughs and swats him in mock-offense.
"Me? A pain in your ass? You're the most stubborn person I know."
"Only when I need to be." He yawns.
"We should get you in bed; you need to recover."
"Don't need to tell me twice," Bellamy winks at her and lifts himself off the ground, extending a hand to help her up.
Clarke stands and catches a whiff of his earthy scent, suddenly not sure if she was this close to him before. Her eyes flicker up to meet his deep brown ones.
She clears her throat, and the corners of his mouth almost twitch into a smile.
Bellamy starts walking away, and Clarke lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. But then he pauses, turning back around to face her when he reaches the doorway.
"Aren't you gonna come tuck me in, doc?"
A/N: Might continue this. Might not. Let me know if you think I should :)