A/N: this is plotless trash but they're cute. here you go
"Like, are you kidding me? It's Tuesday. I have a midterm at eight. Why would you choose tonight, of all nights, to hang a sock on the door?-You know?" Clarke tilts her head backwards to look at him, her face upside down from his perch at his desk chair.
He nodded sympathetically, chuckling at the girl at his feet. "Roommates suck." Bellamy brings his arm up to block the pillow Miller flings at him.
"Says the guy who lets his girlfriend come over at two." At least, that's what Bellamy catches of it; Nathan's incompetent when he's sleep deprived.
The blonde-her face deliciously flushed-snatches the pillow, chucking it at his sleeping form. "We aren't dating!"
Miller simply flips them off and pulls the pillow over his head.
"Forget him. You're always welcome here," Bellamy assures, ruffling her hair, earning a grunt from the girl. "You want help studying?"
She waves a dismissive hand, using her other to fix her curls. "I'm all studied out. What I need is sleep."
Bellamy points up at his lofted bed, brows arched. She raises her own in response, her head shaking once. "I'm not sleeping your bed, not after last time."
"I just changed the sheets!" he retorts, and now it's his turn to blush. It wasn't his fault she came over right after he and his chem partner studied each other's anatomy. (She was good at it, but he had wished it was Clarke instead.)
She still seems uncertain, standing up to peer at the bed. She rises up on her toes and he catches a glimpse of her tummy. "...I guess it's safe," and he knows she's just messing with him at this point, so he lets it slide. Clarke clambers up onto the bed, and he notes with a grin that her flannel pajama bottoms are too long for her.
He balls up his shirt from the day and is situating it on his rug, ready to sleep on the ground, when she says, "You know you can sleep up here too."
Bellamy's pretty sure she's fucking with him again, and he eyes her hesitantly, but she quirks her eyebrows expectantly and he knows now he can't say no.
She makes room for him, and he climbs up, tugging the blanket over them both. It's a tight fit and she's totally hitting him everywhere him as she readjusts, but he won't complain.
They lay silently for awhile, and it's so comfortable he wants to melt into the moment permanently. Her eyes are on him studiously in that way that makes him die a little, and it's nice, watching her watch him, listening to her slow breathing. Then he feels her feet wedging their way between his. Bell's eyes widen and he jerks back.
"What?" she laughs, and he's still looking at the mad woman before him.
"I hate feet, Clarke, why would you ever-?" He's so disturbed by her audacity to touch him with her bare feet. "Where the hell are your socks?!"
"I don't wear socks to bed!" she says, and dammit, she's still laughing. "You're feet are so warm." And she dares to put hers back between them!
And again, he kicks his feet back. "Clarke, what the fuck?" He wants to die, but for a different reason now.
"You look like you're going to cry." She curls her head up against his chest, her body shaking with laughter.
Bellamy's face is hot and he wants so badly to force socks onto her feet. "Not only are your feet disgusting, but they're freezing," he scolds, because even though he didn't let her feet linger long, he definitely felt her unnatural arctic toes.
"Yeah, which is why you should let me use your feet." She's looking at him hopefully now, and she's scooting closer to him now.
He glares at her hard because she's a maniac, shoving her feet up on him without even asking and pretending it's normal. "How am I supposed to sleep if your icicle feet are on mine?"
"Shuuthahellup," he hears from the bed across the room.
"See? You're ruining Miller's life too."
Clarke really needs to stop laughing at him. "You're such a baby." She's considerate, though, closing her eyes and tucking her head into the hollow of his neck and keeping her feet away.
Bellamy, though still traumatized, shuts his eyes and tries to sleep away the pain. However, he can feel her shivering against him, which is distracting in all types of ways.
With a sigh and a grimace, he places his feet over hers. In thanks, she snuggles close to him and shoves her hands up his shirt and apparently her hands are cold too. "Warm," she mumbles.
God dammit, she's lucky he's really into her.
