Hey all! Found a few moments to whip something up. It's less dark than what I've had lately, and a little longer, with some dialogue, so that's nice. Enjoy!

"Clarke, Bellamy's being an idiot," Jasper reported as soon as he strode through the door.

"Close the door, it's cold out," Clarke responded without turning around.

Jasper shut the door. "Clarke, Bellamy's being an idiot," he repeated.

"I heard you the first time, Jasper," Clarke replied, stifling a smile as she turned to face him.

"Oh. I wasn't sure."

"I just chose not to answer."

"That's not nice."

"I was under the impression that your most common view of Bellamy is that he's an idiot, so I didn't think there needed to be much commentary before you told me what was going on," Clarke explained. "So?"

"Huh?"

"What idiotic thing did he do this time?"

"He went hunting."

"I knew that. I told him he was healthy enough."

"Well he's not anymore," Jasper muttered.

Clarke groaned. "What now?"

"A scuffle and a tree and lots of useless unnecessary details," Jasper slurred, "but the important part is that he bled through his coat."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm sure it's not too bad or anything. It's just a nasty scrape, but I told him to come here, and he's not here. Was he here? Did I miss him? You'd think he wouldn't have a problem coming here, since you're here, but, no? No, he hasn't been here. I rest my case. Bellamy is an idiot."

"How bad is this scrape, Jasper?"

Jasper shrugged. "Stitches, probably. Nothing too serious. He's just being stupid about it."

Clarke sighed. She had enough going on. Octavia had been having Braxton Hicks contractions, and they'd been getting more and more common lately. Clarke had ordered Octavia to bed and threatened to have her confined in Medical if the girl didn't obey. There were the minor injuries related to cold air activities (everything from chopping wood to attempting to go skiing). It was life, she knew, but she really didn't need Bellamy to be stubborn on top of it all.

The door slammed against the wall and cold air rushed in for the second time that hour.

"Oh, look who's here," Jasper remarked. "I'm going to leave this one to you, Dr. Griffin. Bellamy Blake, turn yourself in to the medical officer immediately for treatment." With that, Jasper gave a sloppy salute and spun on his heel, out into the cold, and shut the door behind him.

Clarke raised one eyebrow, waiting. She could see the rusty brown blood stains on Bellamy's torn coat, and his hand was pressed against his side, but he didn't seem to be in much pain and there wasn't much blood lost from what she could tell.

"Hey Clarke."

"Bellamy."

"How's Jasper?"

"He thinks you're an idiot."

"So nothing new then," Bellamy remarked. He moved further into the room. "Um, say, when you're not busy, I think I might've done something on the hunt today."

"You don't say."

"Nothing serious. It can wait."

"Good. Because I clearly have a room full of people waiting for medical attention. Sit down."

Bellamy sat down in the empty room and waited to see what lesson she was trying to teach him this time.

"Take your coat off while you wait," Clarke recommended.

Bellamy did so with a stifled groan.

"London," Clarke called, "can you take this one to a room for me?"

London came around the corner looking puzzled. "Um, ok. Which room?"

Suddenly an idea occurred to Clarke. "Why don't you assess the situation and see what you think?" she directed. She'd been waiting for a minor injury she could trust London with to give her trainee the practice she needed, but so far London had mainly treated rashes, stomach aches, and headaches. Here was a patient who would be steady enough for London to examine and treat, and probably not injured enough for Clarke to need to get involved. She could just observe.

"Alright, sure," London said slowly. "Hi Bellamy."

"London," he greeted her, eyes tracking her every movement.

"So, ah, what happened?"

"I'm not really sure," he confessed. "I got nicked somehow. It's not a big deal."

"Can I see the wound?"

He pulled up his shirt, careful not to touch the area. A decently long and semi-deep wound was revealed, oozing blood but not too quickly. "Pretty, isn't it?"

"For sure," London agreed sarcastically. "Let's get you into a room. I want to clean that up and probably place some stitches." She looked at Clarke hesitantly.

"He's your patient," Clarke assured her. "I think he's a good fit for what I've been wanting you to experience."

Bellamy followed them obediently to a room, a puzzled look on his face. London had him sit on a table and remove his shirt before she headed for the supplies she wanted.

"Clarke? What's going on here?" Bellamy asked.

"London needs experience," Clarke explained. "So far, all she's dealt with are minor rashes and the stomach flu. You're not bleeding out, and you don't have the stomach flu, so I thought it might be a good place for her to start. Plus, I trust you to be a good patient, unlike a few other possibilities here at camp."

"Oh. Ah, well, ok. Sure."

"Bellamy."

"What?"

"London is perfectly capable. I just haven't had a good patient for her yet."

"Uh huh. Hey, um, is this going to involve stitches?"

Clarke glanced at the wound. "I sure hope so."

"Ok. Yeah. Sure, that makes sense."

"She can do it. And I'll watch to make sure she does it right."

"Sure, sure, uh huh, sounds good."

"You can't honestly tell me you're afraid of stitches." She was shocked. After everything they'd been through, this was his concern?

"Huh? I didn't say that. I'll be good for her."

"You've been shot at, almost blown up, shock lashed, tortured, bled by the Mountain Men for healing properties, stabbed, and you're worried about stitches?"

"Damn it Clarke, stitches hurt!" Bellamy finally exploded.

"And that didn't?"

"Not the same!" He took a deep breath. "Look, for most of that I wasn't completely conscious. Either that or I wasn't able to do anything anyway. This is different. I'm all here and I'm fully capable of throwing London across the room."

"You won't," Clarke said confidently.

"What makes you so sure?"

"You're Bellamy."

"Real comforting."

"And I'll make sure you don't."

"Better."

Clarke sat next to him. "Are you really that worried about this?"

"No. I just, I already hurt, and stitches hurt really bad, and I don't know, you're here, and…."

"I've seen worse from other people and worse from you."

"I know, but I like to preserve some of my dignity."

Clarke shrugged. She didn't bother reminding him that after the Rogue Ice Nation attack, there wasn't a whole lot Bellamy had left to hide. "It'll be fine."

The door swung open and London bounced in. "Hi. Ready?"

"Maybe you should carefully examine the wound first," Clarke recommended. "And clean it."

"Oh. Right. Um, Bellamy, you should lay down and put your arm over your head."

"This'll be great," Bellamy grumbled to Clarke, but he did as requested.

There was some frowning and mumbling and poking and prodding from London, and some tsking and correcting and demonstrating from Clarke, and some shifting and groaning from Bellamy, but eventually the wound was examined and washed and London was poised with the needle and thread.

"London, why don't you check in with your patient before you stab him," Clarke recommended.

London jumped back. "I'm so sorry. I keep forgetting you're real, and not some dummy Clarke rigged up with whatever the hunters brought back."

"My hunters," Bellamy agreed.

"So, um, Bellamy, how're you doing?"

"I'm bleeding and I feel warm and tired and sore and bored."

"Ok. Um, that's nice. So I'm just going to stitch you up, then we'll check to make sure you don't have a fever. I started a pot of tea that should help keep back infection, and that should be ready by the time we're done here. Then you get to go back to your cabin and rest for a while."

Clarke nodded encouragingly.

"So, this might sting a little, but here we go."

"A little," Bellamy muttered sarcastically. A moment later, he hissed in pain, but he knew he deserved it after a comment like that.

It took all of three stitches before Bellamy reached for Clarke's hand with his free one and held it tightly.

"Also, it would be good if you don't move," London added, concentrated on the wound.

"Doing my best," Bellamy ground out.

Clarke watched Bellamy carefully. He did look like he had a fever, and she was sure the pain and stress probably wasn't helping. Maybe it hadn't been the best time to teach London how to stitch up a real person.

"Clarke?"

She turned at his voice.

"How's it looking?" he wanted to know. "Is she going to leave me with a funny scar?"

"To add to your collection?" Clarke teased as she leaned over to check.

"Real funny, Princess."

"She's doing very well. Nearly done."

"Awesome."

"Aaaaand…last one," London announced triumphantly some time later. She tugged at the knot, and Bellamy jolted upward with a yelp. "Oops! Sorry!"

"I'm a person," he reminded her, voice a little higher than usual. "Not a dead animal."

"I know. Sorry, I just didn't want that to come out. Ok. Come back in a week, and I'll remove those stitches. Otherwise I'll grab your tea and you're free to go."

"I'll take it from here, London. Why don't you check on Octavia?"

"Did I do alright?" London asked.

"Yes, you did very well. Now, off you go."

The door shut. Bellamy flopped back down on the table with a groan. "That sucked."

"You did very well," Clarke assured him.

"How about we let someone stitch up your ribs and see how you hold up?" he snarled.

"It needed doing. You were an idiot in the first place," Clarke shot back.

He sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. I just, that wasn't how I was planning on spending my afternoon is all."

"Well you've got the whole afternoon left. How do you plan to spend that?"

"Here? I think I'm coming down with something."

"You look feverish."

"I feel it."

"You should take the afternoon off. Sleep here for a while. I don't need the room for anything."

"How about you grab some paper and draw?" he countered. "It seems rather quiet today."

"I might, actually."

"You could bring it in here, and we could talk."

"It's been a while since we did that."

"I know. My schedule's been packed, and I'm sure yours has too."

"It has been." Clarke stood. "I think I'm going to do just that. I'll be right back."

A hand on her wrist stopped her. "Kiss me first?" Bellamy requested.

Clarke rolled her eyes but leaned down to do just that.

Bellamy grinned as she walked away. It hadn't really been his plan for the afternoon, but hey, he was a flexible person. If he had to spend the afternoon in medical talking to Clarke while she drew, he could deal.