Bellamy awoke with a pounding headache. He shivered and swept his hand around the hard pallet of his bed to find a blanket. Instead, his fingertips brushed against a soft, pleasantly warm female form. He smiled to himself and scooted closer, drawing the sleeping girl's back to his chest. Not a bad way to beat a hangover, waking up next to… next to… what the hell was her name? He groaned. He really needed to drink less. What's-her-name sighed and pressed her hips back against him, settling herself more fully into his body. He smirked, sliding his hand around her waist. No, not at all a bad way to wake up. He buried his face in her hair inhaling deeply the smell of gun powder. Gun powder? He cracked an eye open and was greeted with a cascade of golden curls. He yanked is head back, eyes wide open now.

No. No. It couldn't be. Clarke Griffin was not in his bed right now. Absolutely no way. He scrunched his eyes closed again, willing her disappearance, but when he opened them, she was still there. Every soft, supple inch of her damn beautiful body. He made a choking sound as his own body began to stir with a powerful need. And then it all came back to him: the bunker, eating the nuts, teaching Clarke to shoot, kissing Clarke senseless, wanting to do more than kiss Clarke senseless, and the inevitable fighting that resulted before he collapsed. He groaned again.

Of course, Clarke chose that exact moment to roll over in his arms aligning their faces, mouths almost touching. Bellamy held a fearful breath as she began to wake up. Her eyelids fluttered open as she stretched. Her gaze focused on his face with a sleepy smile. And then she began screaming outright, shoving him back and away from her. They shot across the room in opposite directions.

Bellamy clutched his pounding head. "God, Clarke, it's me! Tone it down! It's not like I'm a grounder."

She blinked rapidly, pushing her hair out of her face, trying to focus. "Why was I sleeping with you?" Clark demanded. Bellamy snorted. "Next to you!" She fairly shouted. "Why was I sleeping next to you?"

Oh, this was too easy."Come on, Princess, you don't remember our night of passionate love-mak-"

"No! I would never. The last thing I remember is- is…" Clarke blushed furiously as she suddenly did remember, and the reality of the situation wasn't as far from Bellamy's taunting as she would have liked.

He greatly enjoyed her discomfort. "I guess 'never' is a pretty strong word, eh, Princess?" A grin split his face.

"Oh, stop it, Bellamy. This isn't funny. What really happened?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. We got to the bunker. We ate…" And then it occurred to him. "Oh, nuts."

She stared at him, one eyebrow raised, waiting for further explanation. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Nuts." She blinked again. He drew the sound out obnoxiously slow as if teaching her a new word. "Nuuuuuts. Nuts."

"You keep saying that like it means something."

"Because nuts."

"Stop saying 'nuts'!"

Bellamy rolled his eyes. "Hallucinogenic nuts, Clarke. The rations we brought. There was something off about those nuts. I think it caused us to… lower our inhibitions." He cleared his throat, looking down at his lap and then swiftly up to the ceiling. "So when we, you know... And you were mo-" She glared at him. He swallowed. "Right. Yes. So... it was because… nuts," he finished lamely.

"Okay, nuts. I mean, good! I mean, that makes sense." Clarke stuttered. There was a beat as they made eye contact again. Nope. She stood suddenly, vigorously brushing the dirt from her pants. "So, we'll just—"

"Never ever talk about this again."

"Yup."

"Good."

"Great." Clarke rocked back on her heels. "So... guns?"