"Hold still, Clarke!" Octavia muttered through the eye liner pen she was holding between her teeth. She was attempting a smoky eye, but Clarke kept twitching, which made achieving an even application nigh impossible.
They had spent the afternoon in a whirlwind of pampering and preparing, the last 45 minutes of which had consisted of wrangling Clarke's hair into an ornate braid and applying more make-up than she'd ever put on her face before.
"Almost… and, done!' Octavia stepped back to admire her work and Clarke stood up from the stool she was perched on to get a better look in the mirror. Clarke had to admit, Octavia had done a hell of a job. The red dress, the hair, the makeup- all of it honestly made her feel more confident, beautiful even.
The buzzer rang and Octavia wiggled her eyebrows at Clarke. "It's time," she said and skipped off to answer the door.
Bellamy stood in the doorframe, his sweeping stature casting a long shadow into the apartment. "Hey, O, I'm here for Clarke." He coughed nervously.
"Oh, I'm sorry, there's no one here by that name."
"Octavia, just let me-"
Clarke came around the corner and he felt as if all the oxygen has been sucked from the room. His mouth dropped open slightly as his whole body came alive with electricity and he took a step forward into the apartment.
Octavia looked from Bellamy to Clarke, and back to Bellamy again. "Oookay, I think that's my cue." She fluttered from the room, smacking Clarke's backside in a 'good-game' gesture on her way out.
Bellamy's gaze was glued to Clarke's body, admiring her outfit and they way it cascaded down her curves. He finally dragged his eyes to meet hers when she (not so) subtly cleared her throat.
"Hi."
"Hi, yourself." She smiled back.
"You look… fantastic."
"You can thank you sister for that." Clarke fidgeted slightly, adjusting the hem of the dress.
"I might have to," he grinned. "You ready?"
Clarke let out a small breath. "Let's do it." She headed towards the door and Bellamy's hand slid into place at the small of her back, leading her out.
Not a single cloud marred the inky black of the night sky; they weren't worried about a storm catching them this time. But would that really be so bad? Bellamy opened the passenger door for Clarke, holding onto her as she climbed into the truck and took her seat. He tried not to let his eyes linger too long on her hemline, which crept up dangerously high during transport.
He shut the door behind him and slid in on the drivers side, grinning when he noticed that Clarke had taken her spot near the middle of the bench where she'd be closer to him.
"So, what's on the agenda for tonight?" Clarke asked.
Bellamy comically narrowed his eyes. "Oh, it's a secret. If I tell you, I'd have to kill you."
They sat in a comfortable silence for awhile. Bellamy's hand had found its way to resting on Clarke's knee, tracing the skin below her hemline idly as he drove. Clarke saw a sign for Mount Weather, Georgia as they sped down the road away from Ark. Shortly after they crossed into the new town, Bellamy pulled off the highway and they ended up parked in front of an unmarked building in a large field. Targets were positioned down range, their red and blue circles obvious to her eyes even from far away.
Bellamy exited the truck, hurrying to meet Clarke at her door and help her down. Noticing the confused look on Clarke's face as her feet hit the ground, he explained. "After my first tour, I was required to keep up with my sharpshooting skills, but the gun range was too much to handle," he said, his face obviously darkened by unwelcome memories. "So, I took up archery," he continued with a lighter tone, less plagued by flashbacks of gunfire resulting in a fallen comrade, "which is somewhat different from shooting a gun, but the skills still translate over well enough."
"I've never shot anything before. Med school was more about saving people than wounding them," Clarke regarded.
"I find it oddly therapeutic," Bellamy admitted, raising his shoulders. "What do you say? Want to give it a try?" He grinned hopefully, lips pulling back to reveal a winning smile. "You could probably use a little therapy," he added jokingly.
"Well, how can I say no to that?" Clarke said, any doubts she had melted away by the endearing freckle-faced man staring at her with boyish anticipation.
"Okay!" Beaming, he clapped his hands together. "Yeah, cool, um, yes, alright. Let me just…" He seemed to be spinning in the same spot before walking right into the rear fender. Oof. "...get you a bow."
Clarke tried to hide her amusement as Bellamy finally managed to lower the tailgate and drag a large toolbox to the edge. He undid the hatch revealing two bows. One of them was grey and drab, nothing special. But the other was a bold blue and looked more like a torture device than something meant for archery.
"This one is for you, it's a compound," he said, handing her the cobalt blue weapon. A thick string wound back and forth between two wheels on each end of it, and her face scrunched up in confusion.
It didn't look like any bow she'd seen before, what with all the extra stuff sticking out from it every which way. Clarke didn't even know how to hold the thing, let alone how to use it. "It's actually pretty light," she said with a hint of surprise.
Bellamy smiled and held out his hand. "Shall we?"
Clarke reached out her free hand to entangle her fingers with his, following his lead toward the archery range in front of them. The only person around was a sleepy looking fellow pulling arrows out of the nearest target.
"Hey, Sinclair!" Bellamy called out.
"Bellamy?" The man squinted at the pair. "How's it going? It's been a while!" Sinclair had closed the distance between them and was soon standing in front of Bellamy.
"Yeah, I've had a lot on my plate," he said, unravelling his hand from Clarke's and reaching out to shake the man's. "This is Clarke."
"How lovely," he smiled, taking Clarke's hand daintily to place a kiss on her knuckles. He was a gentle looking man, probably in his early-forties, his hair laced with small wisps of silver.
Clarke blushed and Bellamy continued, "Do you mind if we take the far target?"
"Have at it, son, it's good to have you. Clarke, you're welcome anytime, of course."
Clarke waved at the man before sliding her hand back into Bellamy's, following at his heels towards the station.
They reached the shooting line and Bellamy set his bow down on the nearby hay bale. Clarke followed suit, unsure of herself as she gently laid the weapon down. She didn't have long to dwell, though, because a second later Bellamy was beckoning her over to where he was standing next to the target.
"This is just a standard FITA target - ten rings, five colors, and one final inner gold ring which used for tie-breakers." He set a finger on the outer white ring. "This is one point, and the points increase in intervals of one as you move inward. Typically, each shooter is allowed three to six arrows and the score is tallied at the end."
Clarke nodded as he continued, "I don't typically play with scoring, only to hone my technique and concentration. Sometimes I replace a target sheet with my own, challenging myself to hit certain spots."
Bellamy grabbed on the arrows provided by the target
"Stand over here, so I can show you how it's done," Bellamy winked.
Clarke took a small step backward as Bellamy lined up his shot, the string (and his muscles) taut from the pull. On his exhale, he released the arrow and it buried itself just inside the outer red ring of the target.
He let out a small sigh, pinching his lips in a dissatisfied frown. "It's been awhile, looks like I'm a bit rusty." He set up for another go, arrow planting itself into the inner gold ring. "That's more like it," he said with a self-satisfied smirk.
Bellamy took a few more shots, demonstrating to Clarke the proper footing, where to put her fingers, the angle her elbow needed to be in, and numerous other things that she'd since forgotten.
"Alright, princess, you ready to make my day?"
Clarke let out a nervous sigh, but smiled and stepped up to the line.
"Now, it's going to be a little different for you because you're left handed." He stood just behind her, covering her hands on the bow. "Extend your right arm fully and hold up your hand, as if you were telling someone to 'stop.' Be careful with that grip," he warned. "The string could snap against your arm, and it'll hurt like hell."
Clarke nodded, eyes narrowed in concentration. Bellamy guided the grip of the cobalt bow into her palm between her thumb and index finger. "Okay, pinch there, but just barely." He said as he watched those two fingers find their positions, allowing the rest of the fingers to curl downward comfortably.
He stepped back to see Clarke more fully. "Here, you're gripping it just a little too tight," he corrected. "You want to be able to rock the bow back and forth- your bow arm is just an anchor."
Clarke's eyes flicked toward him, and he smiled at her. "You're doing great, just relax." She smiled in return and grabbed an arrow, nocking it on the string.
"Alright, time for the draw. You're going to use your elbow to line up your shot- so, three fingers go on the string, right there below where the arrow is," he said, pointing. "Keep that bow arm straight and strong, it's only there for resistance. If you push into that arm, you'll tilt too far forward and mess up your stance."
Bellamy reached around her and put a hand on her hip, nudging her foot slightly with his own. Guiding her body outward, he cleared his throat. "As a… woman, you'll, uh, want to keep your stance slightly more open- that back foot should be almost parallel to the target." He quickly retracted his body and stepped out of the way. "Okay, last thing- you're going to set your anchor. I usually touch those three fingers to the corner of my mouth, but you need to do it consistently- hence: anchor."
Clarke drew back her fingers to her mouth. "Like this?" She asked, brows creased and eyes trained on the bow.
"Perfect," he smiled. "Repeat that motion two or three times."
She followed the command, settling back into the anchored position.
"Make sure to roll your shoulders back so your chest stays nice and open," he reminded her.
She tucked her shoulder blades together, gaze fixated on the target in front of her. "Like this?"
"Yeah, uh, that's good. Uh-" Bellamy shook his head slightly, trying not to be distracted by the way the stance was enhancing the shape of her body.
Taking another step back, he positioned himself at a safe distance. "Aim the tip of the arrow towards that bullseye, breathe in, and when you breathe out, just let your elbow pull back a bit!"
Clarke took a deep breath and released the arrow, but not before leaning in- altering her stance. This caught her off guard and she clutched at the bow, freaking out as the string snapped against her forearm and the arrow grounded to the right of target.
Bellamy let out a laugh as Clarke stood there wide-eyed with slumped shoulders, rubbing the red welt already forming on her arm. She exhaled curtly and Bellamy just shook his head. "That was really good for your first shot!"
Clarke rolled her eyes at him. It felt like empty praise, like something you would say to a toddler after they proudly present you with an unidentifiable drawing.
"Let's try it again?" He took a spot directly behind her and placed his hand on her diaphragm.
The warmth from his palm sent a small jolt of electricity through her and she shivered beneath him. Her cheeks flush as she tried to retain her focus.
He leaned in and, almost at a whisper, said, "Breathe through here." He pressed gently into her abdomen. "Deep and steady- don't think about what your arms are doing, just think about where you want that arrow to go. Visualize it hitting the target. When you're ready, draw back, line up the shot, and just let your fingers roll off the string on your exhale."
Clarke felt the heat dissipate as Bellamy released his hand and stepped away from her.
She inhaled slowly, and closed her eyes for just a beat before releasing the string, letting the bow do the work for her. The moment seemed to last forever until the arrow embedded itself it the outermost ring of the target.
"Oh my god!" Clarke gasped, "That was amazing."
Bellamy felt a big smile spread across his face.
Clarke turned to him. "You ready to duel?"
He snorted. "You think you're a hotshot after hitting the target once?"
Clarke just grinned at him and of course he caved. They spent the next 45 minutes taking turns on the target. Predictably, Bellamy scored more points, but not as many as he could have.
Clarke managed to hit the target just six more times. She kept letting her laughter throw off her stance.
"God, my body is going to hurt from this tomorrow," Clarke groaned, rubbing her shoulders. She had given up on good form and all that jazz, opting to watch Bellamy flex his muscles and show off instead.
Finally he set down his bow and turned to Clarke, who was sitting in one spectator chair with her feet up on a second one. He stopped and looked at her for a moment- noticing the freckle just above her lip, and the way her eyelashes brushed against each other when she blinked. She looked away, blushing.
"You hungry?" Bellamy asked.
"Starving," she admitted.
"Okay, onto phase two."
Her face lit up and they headed back to the truck, Clarke swinging the blue contraption like a child as she trailed behind Bellamy. He took the bow from her and packed them both away in the toolbox before proceeding to open the door for Clarke.
"Thanks, Sinclair," Bellamy yelled out at the older man, who waved back and returned to working on the bow on his workbench.
As they returned to the highway, he had his arm slung behind the seat while Clarke leaned into him. Feeling bold, she stole a glance at Bellamy, whose face was illuminated by a halo of light through the window. A few minutes after leaving the range, he turned off the main road onto a dirt one. Soon, they were in a clearing that looked over the lake from above and there was a small fence along the edge of the rock face.
As the scene opened up before, astonishment filled Clarke's eyes and excitement bubbled up inside of her. "I should have brought my sketchbook, this is incredible Bellamy!"
Clarke hopped out of the truck before he could respond, kicking off her shoes as she made her way to the edge of the cliff. She leaned over the fence, the loose wisps of hair dancing around her face in the soft summer breeze. Bellamy lowered himself from the truck and leaned over the side of the bed to grab a large basket and a blanket.
He walked halfway towards Clarke before setting them down. Spreading out the blanket, he stopped and watching Clarke at the fence. Clarke's hand gripped the metal railing and she threw her head back, closing her eyes. All day, she'd been fully at ease with him, enjoying each moment they'd spent together like it had been some gift. He walked up behind her, sliding his hands around her and leaning in to place a soft kiss just below her ear. He tugged gently at her waist. "C'mere." He nodded back toward the picnic display he had set up.
"Oh my god," she brought her hand up to her mouth, dropping it after a moment to reveal a bright smile. Rolling up onto her toes, she kissed his cheek. Bellamy bit his lip slightly and grabbed her hand to lead her to the blanket. She knelt down excitedly and tried to open the basket.
Bellamy swatted at her gently, "Let me, princess." He reached into the basket, pulling out a bottle of Shiraz and two long-stemmed glasses. Next, he set upon the task of uncorking the bottle. Thankfully, he had managed to think far enough in advance to pack a corkscrew.
Gently pouring the wine, he noticed his hands were noticeably shaking and he tried to steady them so as to not spill the red liquid everywhere.
"Hey," Clarke said softly. "No need to be nervous."
"I… this-it's not, I'm not-" Bellamy sighed. "I haven't done this in a long time."
Clarke didn't say anything, she just held up her glass and tipped it towards Bellamy. Smiling, he returned the gesture, clinking their glasses together. After indulging in a sip, Bellamy set to work unloading the rest of the baskets contents- white takeaway containers from Wok Palace.
Clarke laughed and Bellamy blushed, but she just leaned over the basket and kissed him chastely on the lips before pulling away and grabbing the container of lo mein and a pair of chopsticks.
"It's perfect," she said and smiled before taking a bite.
They sat there chatting about simple things, like the first time Clarke got drunk in college and puked on her TA's shoes, and the time Bellamy "accidentally" pushed Octavia off of a toy box and she broke her leg. "I was nine years old!" he exclaimed.
"Oh, that's definitely old enough to know better," Clarke laughed.
After they finished their first glass of wine, they each started on another, a giggle escaping Clarke's lips when she accidentally over-poured his serving. They made quick work of putting all the containers back into the basket, when it had started to get dark outside, but a warm haze still hung around and it didn't bother them.
One more glass each and the Argentinian red had disappeared completely. Clarke's head rested near Bellamy's, their feet sticking out in opposite directions as they looked up towards the sky.
They were quiet for a while, letting the wine wash over them, both feeling a bit tipsy and warm.
"You don't talk about yourself much," Bellamy finally said, almost wishing he hadn't.
Clarke shifted so she was on her side and propped herself up on her elbow to look at him.
"Yeah, that's because I'm kind of a mess. I am a mess of a human being."
"Is there any other kind?" Bellamy asked, reaching up to brush along Clarkes chin. Even the dimple on her chin is adorable. His thoughts were a bit bubbly, but he could make out every feature on her face.
Clarke laid back down, eyes focused on the stars that had taken over the sky. "I was in a long-term relationship with this guy," she started. "His name was Finn and we started dating in college. He was a philosophy major, kind of a tree hugger- but he had a good heart. I was happy; he made me happy. We went through a lot together. His dad was in jail and his mom was kind of a deadbeat, and we found each other at a time when we needed to have something to hold on to. I, um-" Clarke paused for a minute, but Bellamy just stayed quiet. "Uh, sorry. I, um, my best friend was killed by an underaged drunk driver. The kid got off with a slap on the wrist and I lost someone who was so, so important to me. Finn was there for me through that. I moved in with him after we graduated, I started med school, and he was working for a non-profit. Everything was great, and then one day my mom called and told me Dad was sick. Like, sick-sick."
Bellamy could hear the heartbreak in her voice. She tried to keep it from wavering, she was trying to be strong.
"I went home during Spring Break, and, uh, found out my mom had been hiding the fact that my dad had been sick for about three months. She didn't want me to leave in the middle of the semester- ruin my career, or some bullshit. He died the same week, and everything just caved in. I went back to school after the funeral, and I come home to find a girl in our apartment. Finn was there, too. She was in a military uniform and they were both crying. Raven- that was her name- she, uh- she had been on a deployment, too. Um, she had gone missing for about two years. He never told me anything about her, even though she wasn't declared "missing" for almost a year after we started dating. Who does that? The army had officially declared her a casualty of war, but a special ops team had infiltrated the base where she was being held and brought her home. What could I do?"
Bellamy was looking at Clarke now, he could see her eyes brimming with tears and her eye makeup ran just slightly off to the side as she kept her gaze turned upward.
"She wasn't angry. She and Finn had been engaged. I could have stayed- he asked me to, but my heart couldn't handle it. Loving him was something I had to choose to stop. I chose to stop. It was the only way to make the pain go away. It hurt just to look at him, it still kind of hurts to think about it now."
"Who can blame you?" Bellamy said gently. He brought his arm up on the other side of her head, letting his thumb brush along the curve of her ear.
"I finished the semester at Johns Hopkins, barely. I managed to pull a passing grade through the last few semester hours, but by the end I had already decided I was going to withdraw my enrollment. God, my mom and I fought so much. She said I was giving up on my dreams and throwing away my future. You know, all that bullshit. Through all of it, I realized that I never really wanted to be a doctor. Sure, I was good at it, but it was something my mom loved. And I loved her. I love her. But my heart was so broken."
Clarke wiped the side of her face where she felt the tears, laughing through a choked sob when she pulled her hand back to see the makeup on her fingers. She sat up, trying to pull herself together. Bellamy propped himself up on his elbows, trying to let the broken woman beside him have the moment she needed.
"God. Like I said, I am a mess of a human being." She huffed, trying to smile, "I know that's a lot to take from a girl you met less than a week ago."
Bellamy sat up all the way and turned to face Clarke.
"Yeah, but I feel like that's not something you've told a lot of people." His brows raised in question, though he was almost certain he was right.
"You'd be the… first, yep." She looked at him with heartbroken eyes. "But for the first time in a while… somehow, being with you- here, in this moment I feel better. But also, a huge part of me thinks that it's momentary- fleeting. My heart keeps telling me it's just a day trip."
"A lot can happen in a day."
Clarke flashed a small smile. "A girl can dream."
Bellamy leaned in, bringing a warm hand to her face. He hovered for a second, wanting to make sure she was okay with it. She leaned in slowly, and Bellamy met her lips. For just a minute, they allowed themselves to get a little drunk on each other, breathing each other in with each small gasp and gentle knock of teeth.
They broke away, a cloud of fervor hanging between them, and Bellamy touched his forehead to hers. Her eyes rose to meet his, and he smiled. "I want to show you something."
Bellamy stood, brushing out the wrinkles on his jeans as he rose, and held out a hand for Clarke. He gave it a small squeeze as she returned to her feet and they walked along the fence line to get a view of the lake from the other side of the outlook.
Bellamy pointed out into the darkness. "You see that tiny little light right there?"
Clarke followed the trajectory of his finger, eyes coming to focus on a very tiny little light. "Yeah?"
"That's my house." Bellamy said, chest high with pride.
"What!?" Clarke squinted, trying to make an outline of the house, but she could only see the light. She shook her head. "God, Bell."
He felt a pang in his stomach: a small knot of hope and nerves.
Oh, god. She called me Bell. Why the hell does it make me feel like this?
"... I still think it's so incredible what you're doing." She leaned her elbows on the railing, her chin propped up in her open palms.
Bellamy mirrored her action. "I was tired of being afraid that I wasn't going to amount to anything."
Clarke swayed, gently bumping her side into Bellamy with a cute grin.
"You ready to go?" he asked.
She nodded as she straightened up, and he again followed suit. This time, he wrapped his arm around Clarke's shoulder and her arm slid in around his waist, and they walked back to the truck linked together.
The road was quiet as they drove back. Clarke was nestled under Bellamy's right arm, her feet up on the dashboard. An old jazz station was coming in and out of static-filled radio, but a grainy sounding "The Way You Look Tonight" hummed quietly.
"It's still early. Want to come up for a nightcap?" Bellamy said hopefully, so low that it was almost a whisper.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were just trying to get me into bed with you," Clarke said slyly.
Bellamy let out a quiet laugh. "After a night like tonight, I thought we both could use one more."
"Okay," she agreed a moment later.
"Okay?"
Her eyes rolled. "Yeah, I said okay, you idiot. Let's just get home before I change my mind."
Bellamy fixed his gaze ahead, smiling as they reached the apartment just minutes later. Clarke beat him to opening her own door and she met him at his instead. He barely had time to lock the truck before she came crashing into him, her hands sliding up into his hair and pulling him into her.
They stumbled backwards, hitting the staircase rather awkwardly. Clarke laughed against his lips and it vibrated through his body.
He scooped one arm under her knees while the other cradled her back and carried her up the stairs, only stumbling once (which he considered an almost Herculean feat). He had to set her down at the top as he fumbled in his pocket for his apartment keys. Clarke breathed heavy kissed onto his neck and collarbone (which was mind numbingly distracting), but he managed to align the key with the hole and turn to unlock it successfully, despite the nipping and biting.
The door slammed behind them and Bellamy had to pull away, breathing heavily. He floated over her, watching her chest rise and fall as she tried to steady her ragged breaths. He searched her eyes, a look of desire replacing the heartbroken one that had consumed them earlier that night.
He wanted to slow things down between them. Clarke was not the kind of girl you fuck. (At least not on the first date.)
He laid a trail of kisses along her hairline, onto her neck and the soft spot beneath her ear. Her body accepted the warmth as he ran his hands down her arms. Circling behind her, he turned her slightly and gently moved the braid over her shoulder. The zipper on the back of the dress was warm to the touch as he slowly pulled it downward, kissing the new skin as it was revealed to him. Clarke helped push her arms from the sleeves so the dress could drop to the floor, and she turned around to grab the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head.
Her nails dug into his back as she grabbed onto him, her mouth finding his once more. He moaned into her as she pulled on his lip with her teeth, and he grabbed under her thighs, pulling her up into him. Clarke let out a breath of air when Bellamy backed her into the wall, dipping down to press hot kisses into her collarbone while her hands fumbled with his belt.
His lips traveled lower, dancing along the top of her breast. Clarke's brain went fuzzy and she melted back into the wall, her hands now grasping at Bellamy's hair.
"Bellamy," Clarke whimpered, her body electrified.
He withdrew one hand from beneath her to finish removing his belt and pants, stepping out of them as they hit the floor. Clarke felt him beneath her as he returned, canting his hips upward.
She clung to him as he lifted her away from the wall, and their mouths found each other again. Bellamy managed to navigate the dark apartment and find his bed, dropping Clarke onto it below him. They both stopped to breathe for a moment, Clarke pulling herself up to touch Bellamy's bare stomach in front of her. A thin layer of sweat was now glistened on their skin, and Clarke reached around to unclasp her bra and throw it aside. She laid back down, allowing Bellamy to crawl on top of her. He nestled his knee between her thighs and placed one hand on her hip bone, the other bracing his weight on the bed just beside her. His fingers danced along the hem of her underwear and she nodded, granting him the permission to pull them off. In one swift motion, they were tossed across the empty apartment, and he moved to rid himself of his own, as well.
Bellamy kissed lazily up her inner thigh and onto her stomach, her breast, her neck and finally her mouth again. Their bodies now pressed together - naked and wanting - she could feel him.
It was slow, at first, but they were intoxicated by each other and Clarke soon felt her composure slipping away. Bellamy's last reserves of self-control crumbled under the small gasp that escaped Clarke's lips as he sank into her.
They came undone, entangled in each other so completely they could feel every movement, every touch, every shiver- and that was enough.