A/N: It's been a while. Sorry! Just a little taste for now; you're likely to see more from me over the holidays.
Bellamy just wanted sleep.
It was the best part of his day; and yet Clarke haunted even this private time. Tonight, it was that moment by the fire when she caught him watching - and instead of giving him a hard time, simply let it be something that happened. She always did that: taking in new information, processing it faster than he even knew it was possible to think, discarding the irrelevant to make use of the necessary.
It was damn sexy.
It was not healthy.
Clarke had turned who she was into who she had to – no, not true. She had taken it further. She had become who they needed her to be, to survive. Bellamy stood, resigned to sleeplessness. Clarke called to him softly from the doorway; he immediately took up his position at her shoulder. He felt, rather than heard, Clarke sigh into the familiar stance.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
"You're allowed to be."
It was exactly what she needed to hear. She leaned back into his chest, turned her head, and found his lips: too close. Too ready. Letting go was as scary as the rest of it, but Bellamy… was safety. Bellamy was home.