They were in a ramshackle hut in the middle of nowhere, the only furnishings a rough wooden table and three chairs. There wasn't much room in the hut, and most of that room was taken up with a terse silence, a silence with a heavy physical presence. But that was the thing about silence. It could be broken.

'I think we need to present a united front tomorrow. We can't stand around bickering about our position. Our people might find it adorable, but to outsiders we'll just look weak.' It was Raven that had used the word adorable. Raven had an infuriatingly clever way of cutting through their disagreements to get her own way, so of course she would find it cute. Sometimes Clarke thought that they needed a smart and unflappable badass to delegate 'saying no to Raven' duties to. But the first person that came to mind was Raven. Oh well. Saying yes to Raven had worked out pretty well for them so far.

'Don't be silly Clarke. We're always a united front.'

'I believe you completely. That intense glare really sells it.' Clarke smoothed out her own face before he could accuse her of hypocrisy. She couldn't really blame Bellamy. Sometimes her features just had a way of naturally falling into a glare when he was around. Like a reflex. She supposed it was far better than some of the alternative expressions she suspected herself of having in his presence. An irritating Bellamy was a safe Bellamy.

He leaned back on his chair so that the front legs hovered slightly off the ground. His posture radiated casualness, but she could just picture him sitting there, practicing it like a sport until he could pull off the lean. She had strong urge to kick his chair to give him a new challenge.

'We agree on more than we disagree on. This time, at least. It's only in the details. We'll go with your plan for the agriculture trading, and mine for the weaponry. Then keep the alternate plans as backups in case the circumstances change when we get there. Problem solved.' He smiled one of his most charming smiles, but Clarke was not charmed.

'Problem solved? Problem solved! We've been arguing about which beans and herbs to offer them for hours! And now you're just happy to concede?' She was a little embarrassed at the silly fist thump she made on the table, but it was overshadowed by her anger.

He shrugged. 'What can I say? You wore me down. Can we go have some dinner now? I'm starving.'

When Clarke stood up and leaned forward, Bellamy plopped the chair firmly back on the floor, and gripped the table with both hands. Sometimes it was almost like he could read her mind. Her urge to kick his chair, or to just go ahead and kick him, was becoming stronger. 'Why did you waste my time?'

He sighed. 'I wanted an excuse to avoid Octavia. She's mad at me. Again.'

Clarke let go of her anger all at once. It was a perfectly understandable reaction to Octavia's wrath. She herself had organised on an impromptu herb gathering mission last week to stay out of Octavia's warpath. 'I really hate you.'

Bellamy smiled again, a genuine grin this time. 'You really don't. And now we've had more practice working on our united front. Isn't that what you wanted?'

Clarke shook her head and wandered over to the door, unable to resist a smack to Bellamy's shoulder on her way. She was hungry too.

'Clarke?'

She didn't want to stop her march towards the food, but she recognised Bellamy's 'serious talk' tone. She secretly liked their petty bickering, but walking out on the chance for a real talk with Bellamy was unthinkable. She worried about ten times a day that there would never be a next one. And during their talks, his words always went straight through her like an arrow, good or bad. They moved her at her core. They made her feel more like herself. She needed that. So she reluctantly turned back around to face him. 'Yes?'

'The united front thing is just silly diplomacy. A show. But we're a team. We always have been. Even when we fight. Especially when we fight.'

'Agreed.'

As they walked back towards the camp, they started another argument about the best way to cook meat. There was violent gesturing and raised voices. No one would ever mistake them for a united front. But they were a team.