Author's Note: Written to cheer LondonRainings up

Bellamy espied Clarke in the blue feathered mask and set off across the hastily erected dancefloor as if acid fog were chasing him.

"Clarke, thank God," he said, as he reached her side and unceremoniously hauled her onto to the dancefloor, his arm sliding around her waist as he pulled her in close, far closer than friends would usually dance.

"Bellamy?" Clarke asked in a confused tone. "I was about to dance with Miller."

"I'll apologise to him later," he said distractedly. "You have to save me."

Clarke, apparently used to his melodramatic statements, slid her hands up over his shoulders and locked them into place around his neck. He shivered slightly at the way her fingers played with the hair at his nape. "What's up?"

He bent close to her ear so he could quietly murmur his problem and make it look romantic. "See that Grounder over there. That tall strapping one who towers over me by at least half a head," he said, twirling them both around so Clarke could look over his shoulder.

"Mm-hmm," she said.

"She's after me. Keeps going on about how I've proven myself a worthy warrior and mate," he said with a shudder at how difficult it had been to get away.

Clarke's small frame was wracked with silent giggles and he scowled down at her. Unfortunately his mask hid most of it and Clarke had never been phased by his ferocious looks anyway. Her eyes twinkled up at him and she said, "What do you want me to do?"

"Pretend we came together then she might get the hint and leave me alone."

The largest grin he'd ever seen on her face blossomed and he stared down in awe. Is this how she had looked on the Ark before everything had gone to hell? He wondered.

Then she opened her mouth. "Is the big bad Bellamy scared of a Grounder? I thought that's how you had your fun!"

"Ha ha, Clarke. You'd be scared if you were being hounded like this, too," he said grumpily.

"So what do you need from me?" she asked, before she moved sensuously into him, leaning up so her breath ghosted over his cheeks. "For me to stake my claim?"

Bellamy gulped. "Something like that, Princess."

Clarke took one more look over his shoulder before she gave a smile of pure mischief. "I think I can manage that," she said before she pressed her lips against his.

For a split second his head reeled and he could nothing before the reality of just whose tongue was demanding entrance to his mouth hit him. His arms engulfed her, scooping her up against him, and intensifying the kiss.

Octavia let out a little whoop as she watched her brother and the girl he not so secretly pined for make out on the dancefloor, scandalising the older Sky People present.

Lincoln shook his head at her palpable excitement and handed out the precious vial of medicine, pilfered from the stocks of the Mountain Men, and promised to Skylar if she drove Bellamy into the arms of Clarke.

"I told you he would run scared," Octavia said, as she shook Skylar's hand in thanks.

Lincoln grunted an acknowledgement. He tended not to dwell on Bellamy and his not so subtle dislike of Octavia's relationship with Lincoln.

"Shame," Skylar said. "He's not bad for a Sky Person. I could have bedded him easily. Well, if you have any other of your people I need to scare, Octavia, lead me to them. It's the most fun I've had in ages."

"I'll let you know if Bellamy needs another kick in the right direction," Octavia said with a smug smile of satisfaction as she continued to watch Bellamy and Clarke forget they were standing in the middle of the dancefloor.

"Another vial says she gets his shirt off before they realise they have an audience," Skylar said.