Summary: AU, Drama/Romance, Bellarke. 3x they argue, 1x they don't.

Rated M – for adult content (I'm always cautious).

Disclaimer: Just borrowing The 100, not for profit!

A/N: My first short fanfic ever, it will only be four chapters long, with 1000 or less words, per chapter. I've never done anything like this before so please review and let me know what you think, I would appreciate whatever you have to say. Also my work is not beta'd so I apologise for any blatant errors – please point them out if you find them – I like constructive criticism.

Pronunciation (keep in mind I'm Australian): Terran = Tare/ren, Aithne = Eth/nee, and I think Ashwin is pretty self-explanatory.

DISSENT

One.

Bellamy entered the dimly lit room that he shared with his wife Clarke and silently closed the door behind him – leaning into it for a brief moment while he allowed his broad shoulders to relax with relief. He turned and walked into the robe, casting a sideways glance at his wife propped up in bed, tablet in hand.

That bloody tablet! Some nights, he felt like throwing it out the window! He looked down at the floor and shook his head with discontent.

"Aren't you tired?" he mumbled as he peeled his gym shirt from his torso and tossed it into the laundry basket.

"Patient records," Clarke said quickly, not looking up from her screen. "How'd you go with Terr?"

Bellamy sighed and ran his hands through his hair. Their two year old son Terran was usually a good sleeper, but since the accident two days ago he'd refused to leave his mother's side, even when it came to bed time.

"He'll be okay when everything falls back into routine tomorrow," Clarke said rather nonchalantly, filling the silent space between them.

"Tomorrow? What's happening tomorrow?" Bellamy stepped towards her, hands on hips. He had a feeling he knew what was coming next. The only time she read patient records in bed at night was when she had surgery scheduled the following day.

"I've got a lumbar micro discectomy." She finally looked up at him, and wished she hadn't. His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched tenaciously.

"So…" he said low and deep. "Somebody else can do it. It's a common procedure."

She pursed her lips together. He knew full well she couldn't just palm this off to one of the other neurosurgeons.

"It's too early," he protested. "You can't go back to work like this."

"It's just cuts and bruises, Bell. I'm fine… honestly."

"No… you're not. You could have killed yourself Clarke!"

She didn't respond to that because firstly, it was true - she had fallen asleep at the wheel - and secondly, because he needed to feel what he needed to feel.

Bellamy stepped back into the robe and indignantly tugged off his track pants, leaving only his black boxers. Clarke felt a flush of heat and shifted her eyes away to the screen. She could handle angry. She could handle half-naked. But angry and half-naked? That was too much.

"This all happened because of work." He continued as he stepped around to his side of the bed. "How many double shifts did you do last week?"

"I don't remember," she was still trying not to look at him, as he drew back the blankets and climbed into bed beside her, his thigh briefly brushing against hers. It had been over a month since they'd made love, and every touch, no matter how trivial, reminded her of the closeness that she was missing.

"You don't remember?" He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Well I do. And so do the kids. In fact, Ashy's keeping tabs on you. He's calculated how many hours you've spent at work and how many hours you've spent with them in the past month. He's even got a damn spreadsheet."

"What?" Clarke couldn't help but shoot him a look this time. Was he having her on? "He knows how to do that? He's six years old!"

"If you were ever home, Clarke, you'd realise how much he's capable of. How much they're all capable of."

"That's not fair," she whispered dejectedly, placing the tablet face down on her bedside table.

Bellamy grabbed his forehead with his fingers and squeezed his temples, realising he'd gone too far. He knew her job was more than just a job to her, and they'd made a deal a long time ago that they would never use their careers, or their kids, as fodder in an argument.

"I'm worried about you - that's all," his voice was rough and regretful. Surely she knew he was coming from a good place.

Clarke turned to face him then and nodded.

"I know," she said, reaching a hand up to gently rest on his jaw.

He leaned against her soft skin and shifted his face, ready to plant a tender kiss on the inside of her palm, when there was a desperate knock at their door. Bellamy groaned.

"Daddy?" Aithne, their eldest, called his name as she slowly pushed their bedroom door ajar and blinked her sleep filled eyes at the faded light in the room.

"What is it Ethy?" he asked impatiently.

"I woke up," she said tearfully, "And I can't find Lamby anywhere… I think I left her at Nanny Abby's."

"She's not at Nanny Abby's Eth, I put her to bed with you." Bellamy sighed and drew the blankets back, but Clarke gripped his bicep and motioned for him to stay where he was.

"I got this," she said with a smile, placing a quick kiss on his forehead before slipping out of bed and ushering their seven year old through the door and down the hallway to her own room.