Clarke had the habit of talking in her sleep. Quiet, incoherent mumbles and murmurs every now and then as she rolled over to get comfortable. Even more annoyingly, she also had the habit of constantly stealing the covers.
Bellamy was never one to really move very much while asleep, though Clarke's little habit has been causing him to instinctively pull the covers back over himself lately as winter drew closer and the nights got colder. It was like a game of tug of war every night, and even while asleep the two leaders of the camp were constantly at loggerheads.
They weren't quite sure themselves why they were sleeping in this arrangement every night. Sure, their relationship had changed a lot since they first landed on the ground 3 months ago and as much as they hated to admit it, they were actually friends now, and they were better together than apart. It was still pretty fucking weird, though. It started about a month ago, when they stayed up in Bellamy's tent, discussing an alliance with a grounder clan. They'd fallen asleep next to one another on the floor in a pile of blankets, Clarke resting her head on Bellamy's chest. The morning after was awkward at best, but it was the first night where neither of them were plagued by nightmares since they landed on Earth. They never really talked about it (though the rest of the 100 sure as hell did), just came to a silent agreement that Clarke would go into his tent and take the right side of his makeshift bed at the end of every day without fail, even if they had a fight in the day (which they did, pretty much every day.).
Tonight was no exception. They'd had an argument late that morning, something about the numbers they wanted scouting groups to travel in (Bellamy wanted them to go in pairs to cover more ground, Clarke wanted threes for safety), and Clarke had spent the rest of the day giving him the cold shoulder. "Ah, the princess has finally decided to grace me with her presence," Bellamy smirked as Clarke pushed open the entrance of his tent. Clarke rolled her eyes as she padded towards the mattress at the back of the tent and desperately tried to ignore the fact that his shirt was on the floor and the way her brain (and body, but a little. Just a little.) reacted to that bit of information. She plopped onto the bed on the same spot she'd been sleeping on the past twenty, maybe thirty nights and pulled the covers up over her shoulders, her back facing Bellamy.
"What, no goodnight kiss?" He mocked, pretending to sound hurt.
For that he earned a scoff and a "fuck off, Blake," before Clarke settled into the hard mattress and closed her eyes, willing herself to fall asleep before she ended up murdering the annoyance (and as much as she hated to it, her only comfort on this shit hole of a planet) lying next to her. Bellamy sighed and smiled to himself, rolling onto his back and staring at the top of the tent before his eyelids began to droop and he drifted into sleep.
In no more than two hours, Clarke began to tug the covers towards her side of the bed as she did every night. Bellamy stirred next to her, grabbing them back and pulling them over himself as he grunted in his sleep.
Clarke groaned loudly and violently wrenched the covers away from him, waking Bellamy up in the process. He opened his eyes and squinted groggily at the head of blonde hair beside him, before yanking the blanket black in annoyance and rolling over to face the side of the tent, clumsily jabbing an elbow into Clarke's back in the process.
Shit.
He felt Clarke's entire body stiffen beside him, as if she was snapping back to her constant state of stress and worry when she was awake. He shut his eyes tightly, pretending to still be asleep to save himself from the princess' wrath. Too late. He felt her hands on his bare shoulder as she flipped in on his back, and opened his eyes to the sight of her glaring angrily at him, her light hair tangled and flattened from sleeping on her side. His lips tugged at a smile at how adorable she looked, but he quickly caught himself, rearranging his features in a slight frown. "Clarke, what the hell?" he groaned.
"You shoved your giant elbow into my back!"
"Well, you were stealing all the damn blankets!" He answered, in the most accusatory tone he could manage at this hour.
"It's fucking cold!"
An idea crept into his mind as a grin spread across his face and before Clarke even had the time to protest, he enveloped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him, her back against his bare chest. "Feeling warmer now, Princess?" his hot breath dancing across her neck. She could hear the smirk in his voice as she tried to suppress the blush that crept to her cheeks.
She swallowed deeply, pulling herself together before carefully turning to face him. "What are doing?" She questioned. "Keeping you warm," he breathed, much more serious now her face, her lips, were so close to his own. "We can't have the second most useful person here falling sick, you know?" He said as a matter-of-factly, snapping out of it and breaking the uncomfortable tension that settled in the tent.
"And who's the most useful person around here, you?" She scoffed.
"Damn right."
A giggle escaped Clarke's lips in response to that, and Bellamy began to silently chuckle as well until they eventually stopped laughing, and Clarke lowered her eyes to the tanned skin on his bare chest as she hesitantly placed a hand on it. Bellamy cleared his throat, and Clarke quickly drew her hand back before he caught it, placing on the same spot again, his hand over hers. She looked up at him with a puzzled look on her face. "It's okay," he whispered, pulling her even closer. Clarke smiled softly to herself as they sunk into a comfortable silence.
"This is just to keep warm, right?"
"… You can keep telling yourself that."
She grinned and buried her face into the dent between his shoulder and neck, breathing in the scent of him. Before long, she was fast asleep again, snoring lightly against him, her forehead creased in a slight frown like it always did when she was sleeping.
Against his better judgement, Bellamy leaned down, careful not to wake her, and pressed a light kiss to her forehead.
"Goodnight, Princess.".