A bellarke canon future drabble. Speculation/headcanon.


Bellamy doesn't mean to snoop around. But when Clarke asks him to go and grab the box of spare bullets from under the driver's seat of the rover, she didn't say she was keeping her notebook there full of sketches.

Not just sketches but sketches of him.

So when Madi comes to fetch him because "you are taking too long, old man" he stutters and, well, he needs another minute to process this. A lot of things, actually.

"Oh, I see you've found her diary," Madi giggles.

Bellamy shakes his head, trying to control his breathing, back to normal, because honestly – w h a t?

"Her diary?"

Madi nods her head, her giggles slowly settling into a huge grin.

"It's full of sketches of … me?" He doesn't mean it as a question, but his heart is kinda beating high and fast in his throat now, his palms feel all sweaty. He clearly didn't expect to see this.

Does he really have so many freckles?

"It's okay," Madi explains." I've found it weird at first to have a book full of the same tall, dark and handsome but - - I understand." She is kicking a stone with her boot, her eyes focusing on a patch of grass on the ground. "It was her way of not losing hope and to remember," Madi mumbles before raising her head and flashing him a small smile again. "You were her favourite in the stories, you know."

Bellamy raises an eyebrow, he means to ask so many things.

"Hey, did you –" Clarke approaches, her eyes spotting the notebook, open, and in his hands.

He shrugs. "Tall, dark and handsome, huh?" His voice breaks a little in the middle, but he covers it with a smirk, all in all a little awkward. He thinks his eyes even twitch into an involuntary wink.

He is so out of his game after 6 long years in space, but, that's what you get when living with couples for practically the entirety of it.

Before he can turn beet red, he notices the faint blush on Clarke's cheeks. It's adorable. (And she's incredibly sexy. Motherhood made her mature so much… it's unbelievable. She's been born to this.)

"Ummm – yeah, about that–"

"You drew me?"

She cocks her head to the side. "Well, yeah. I wanted to remember you…"

"And you told Madi stories about me?" he closes the book and takes a step closer.

"ALL of you," Clarke counters, she looks so stubborn – like the Clarke he'd met one day, long, long ago, when he thought she had been spoiled and privileged and he was going to rule camp alone.

"You told stories about me – tall, dark and handsome," he grins.

Clarke, at the same time huffs, mumbling, "but of course that's the one thing she remembers," and turns her head to shoot a glare at Madi, who is nowhere to be seen.

He stifles a laugh at Madi's antics.

"Clarke," he takes another step and grabs for her hand to squeeze it. "Let me do it right, this time."

He means to say, he has missed her so much, it actually ached for years and he thought he would never really breathe right again. Not until a few weeks ago – not until he's learnt from a small grounder child that she was alive. That he only feels almost whole again because she's here, and he can actually see her, for real, and touch her.

Instead, he tugs on her arm, enveloping her in a hug, thumbs rubbing at the nape of her neck, where her now shorter hair ends. He's breathing her in, until he can feel her breathing even out, and in sync with his. "If I could, I would have drawn you. Every day."

Clarke buries her head deeper into the crook of his neck which is awesome.

After a minute or so, he breaks the silence. "I could be pretty good at it by now, actually, if –"

"Bellamy," Clarke leans back to look at him," shut up. Let's just enjoy this."

If he could, he'd draw her every day, even now. But, let's be real, nothing will ever compare to the real thing.

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