"What the hell are you doing, Clarke?" he whispered.

She'd dragged her blanket over six feet, pulling up right next to him.

"I don't…" she bit her lip, then nodded at Finn's sleeping figure to the left of them. "I…"

He followed her line of vision and caught on.

"It's fine," he muttered, just to save her from trying to explain her distrust in Finn.

He felt for the guy. At the beginning, he couldn't stand the Grounder-loving kiss-ass. But then…then he grew to know Finn, and they bonded over their desperation to find Clarke.

To find their friends.

But whatever light had been there had been doused the day the Grounders attacked. He was no longer Finn. He was…something else, and something Bellamy feared would become a reflection.

She grinned appreciatively and swiped the dirt off her blanket. He tried not to watch her, the way her hair fell in her face, the hidden sorrow.

Clarke lay facing him, which he found both comforting and unsettling. He could keep an eye on her. But she could also watch him sleep. Like she was right now. Fuck that.

"Can you not…stare at me?" he said, wishing he could hang himself after the words left his mouth. Way to sound like a little bitch, Bell.

Clarke blinked at him, taken off guard by the request, and then she chuckled. "I don't know. If I close my eyes, will you still be there?"

It was supposed to be a joke, but the fear in her voice struck a chord, and they both frowned.

She didn't know who to turn to now. Finn had been the one she could confide in about personal…stuff. Bellamy was the guy she chose for kicking ass. Which was fine with him. That was how it should be.

Only now Clarke couldn't trust Finn. She didn't know him anymore. And she couldn't blatantly tell Bellamy how she felt, because they didn't work like that. They were each other's escape from emotion. And he wanted to keep it that way.

"I'll be here," he promised. There was no bite. No teasing.

She made a face like she didn't believe him.

"What, do you want to hold my hand?"

"No."

"Then go the fuck to sleep, Clarke."

She smiled at him, her wounded, Earth smile. It stopped his heart, for a split second, and he swallowed.

She was supposed to be his escape from emotion. The stopper in his rage and his grief.

So why did she make him feel everything tenfold?


OoO


When he woke up, Clarke was entirely on his blanket, tucked beside him, but not touching. Close, but not close enough. Only her hair grazed his cheek, his chest. And he had to restrain himself from leaning in close and nuzzling his head into the crook of her neck. Kissing her there at the nape. Restraint was key.

Murphy muttered something under his breath about Bellamy being 'fucking ridiculous', and Bellamy decided he better remove himself before Finn saw them together and put a bullet in his head. But as soon as he shifted, the body heat radiating from Clarke disappeared, and he decided he could stay a little while longer.


OoO


He would never get over the satisfaction of seeing Clarke wake up on his blanket, her confused lower lip jutting out. She threw him an embarrassed glance and blushed.

But he didn't bite. And he didn't tease.