Here's another fic written for 100 fics for BLM! The prompt was for a scene set on Bardo loosely inspired by the Barchie shower scene. Huge thanks to Zou for betaing it and happy reading!
Content note for Bellamy's experience on Etherea and associated emotional baggage.
The 100 fic for BLM initiative is coming to an end and no more prompts can be submitted after the end of this month, so get your donations and prompts in now and help us beat our $9k target!
Clarke knows that going to see Bellamy is a total waste of her time.
It will make no difference. He's obviously one of these Disciples now. He betrayed her without looking sorry for it, then insisted he had done the right thing when he came to see her and Octavia earlier.
But she just cannot leave well enough alone.
It's like a scab she can't stop picking at, a bear she can't stop poking. She simply cannot believe that this has really happened - that Bellamy has really turned against her - and she will keep pressing the issue until her heart has caught up with her head, she supposes. Until the truth of it really sinks in.
So that's why she asks the guards to escort her to see Disciple Blake.
They don't argue. They seem to think anyone would want to see him, in fact. It's like he has become some kind of saint in their eyes since he returned from Etherea.
She arrives at his door, one guard at each elbow. The guards knock and Bellamy answers within seconds.
He answers shirtless, dressed only in the stiff white trousers a Disciple wears under their robe. She tries her hardest not to stare at his chest, because being attracted to him seems foolish now he's betrayed her.
She doesn't altogether succeed.
"Disciple Blake?" One of the guards asks, visibly puzzled.
"I'm sorry. Please excuse me. What's going on?" Bellamy asks, frowning at Clarke.
"The prisoner requested a conversation with you, Disciple Blake."
He looks shocked. Genuinely and absolutely stunned - as if he cannot believe that the woman who used to be his best friend might actually want to talk to him, Clarke thinks sourly.
"OK. Sure. Come on in, Clarke."
She does. She slips past him, tries not to notice the heat radiating from his bare chest as she squeezes through the remaining space of the doorway.
Then her guards go to follow, but Bellamy stops them with an outstretched hand.
"No. It's OK. I'm safe with her. You can wait outside. Or go back to your posts - I'll walk her back to her room when we're done talking."
Her room? Not her cell? That's an interesting turn of phrase, she thinks. He's still playing the part of someone who cares about her, at least some of the time.
She just wishes he could do it a little more consistently.
The guards look to each other, frowning. They bend their heads together and whisper for a moment.
"Really, we're fine. She's not going to hurt me and I'll see her safely back to her room when we're finished here." Bellamy repeats.
That does it. Disciple Blake himself has spoken with an air of finality, so the guards go on their way.
The door closes slowly - and yet too quickly at the same time. Clarke isn't quite sure what she plans to say. After a lifetime of living by sharp plans and bright ideas, she's all out of words now. Her head is swirling with too much fear and betrayal to think straight.
Bellamy speaks first. "I'm so glad you're here. I was going to come see you myself in a minute. I didn't like the way we left things earlier."
She frowns at him, unimpressed. He evidently was not planning to come and see her. He's only half dressed. And besides which, she thinks it's a little rich of him to start protesting that he's sad about the vast distance which has suddenly sprung up between them.
She doesn't answer his remark, as such. She simply stands, arms folded across her chest, and makes her case.
"I don't understand it. I don't get it. You were always driven by love and now suddenly you don't care about anyone? It makes no sense to me. If you're claiming you're still the same guy who saved me from Josephine, show me that. Show me by helping me figure out a way we can all be happy. I just want my people safe, in this life. Not some crap about transcendence. If you can help me figure out how we can each go our separate ways peacefully, then maybe I'll believe you haven't totally lost your heart."
While she lets it all out Bellamy simply stands there, chest heaving, the muscles of his stomach rippling as he fights for control.
He's still not speaking. She's done talking, now. Why isn't he replying? Is that it? Has he nothing to say in his defence, nor in defence of his faith?
"Bellamy?" She prompts him, almost concerned. Despite the current conflict between them, she doesn't like the look of the way he's trembling.
"I don't know what to do!" He croaks out in the end, a broken whisper. His eyes flit towards the door, as if worried about eavesdroppers.
She takes a step closer to him on instinct. "We're fine. You sent the guards away. Tell me what the hell you're talking about."
He looks a little calmer at that. "I don't know what to do." He repeats. "I thought I had this all figured out when we got back from Etherea. It made so much sense. And then you come along and you start crying and you screw everything up." He tells her, shaking with some combination of anger and frustration and sorrow and who knows what else.
She snorts. Is she supposed to apologise? She's not the bad guy here.
"I thought I had it figured out." He repeats. He does seem to be repeating himself a lot today. "But watching you lose it like that when you realised I'd changed…" He sucks in a shuddering breath. "I didn't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt you. Maybe you're right. Maybe we can find some compromise and go our separate ways. Or maybe - maybe I've got all this completely wrong." He mutters, wringing his hands, his arms tensing with the effort of keeping it together.
She doesn't know what to make of this. She simply doesn't. Is he saying he does still care about her more than he wants transcendence? That's the only way she can take that comment about him getting the situation completely wrong. And it's tempting to believe he's still a good guy, when he's standing there with those sad eyes and that sculpted chest on show. But does she trust him? He betrayed her, only a few hours ago.
She shakes her head and starts small.
"Will you at least put a damn shirt on while we talk?" She asks, annoyed. "Why are you dressed like that anyway?" Last thing she checked, being half-dressed in the daytime - and claiming you had imminent plans to go out - is not entirely normal behaviour.
Then again, nothing about Bellamy's behaviour has been normal since he got back from Etherea.
"I was going to take a shower and come see you straight after." He tells her at once.
She frowns. That sounds odd, but it doesn't sound like a lie. He said it too easily, too instinctively, compared to the rest of this sorry conversation.
"You were?"
He nods urgently. "Yeah. Of course I was. I - I really hate myself right now. I feel like I'm letting everyone down - my new faith and my old friends. But I had to come see you. I just keep replaying that conversation we had earlier and wondering what the hell is wrong with me." He gives a hollow and slightly hysterical laugh.
"Bellamy -"
"Anyway, someone I care about told me those robes look ridiculous, so I decided to take them off." He says, with more of that worrying hysterical laughter.
"I thought you couldn't care about anyone?" She reminds him.
He bites his lip so hard she's worried he might draw blood. He releases it, sucks in a couple more shaky breaths. She takes in the tension of his shoulders, the way his hands are clenched in tight fists.
"I still care about you." He admits, broken, almost more a groan than anything else.
Tears spring to her eyes, all at once, quite without her permission. Damn it. She could swear she planned to keep her cool during this conversation. She seems to remember that was her intention, as she walked over here.
"Do you still care about me enough to help me fix this?" She asks quietly. "Enough to help me protect the people I care about?"
Another pause. He's biting his lip again. But he's also nodding slowly, giving an odd sort of strained grimace of a smile at the same time.
For the record, trying to smile whilst biting his lip so hard is not a good look on him. But she senses that this is not the time to mention that.
"OK. Great. Thank you." She says, a little frantic. This is progress. "We can do this. We'll figure something out that keeps your Disciples happy too."
He frowns harder than ever. "They won't be my Disciples any more if they realise I helped you. If they realise why I helped you."
She gasps. She never thought about it like that - although she can see now that she should have done. In her defence, her brain is not firing on all cylinders right now, thanks to this toxic cocktail of stress and shock. But he's right. He's made it quite clear that caring for individuals is not compatible with his new faith.
"You'd choose us over your new faith?" She asks, stunned. There have been so many reversals from Bellamy today, she's no longer sure which direction he is truly heading in.
"I'd choose you." He says, firm, not to be misunderstood. "I wanted to choose transcendence. I really believed we could all be at peace. But if you're so determined that you'd rather live in this life with Madi than transcend then - I guess that's what I want for you too. I just want you to be happy." He admits, tearful. "And I've made you very unhappy today."
She nods. That's only true, isn't it? He made her feel absolutely devastated, earlier. She can understand he had his reasons, but the point still stands.
"I would be happier in this life with Madi and you." She lets slip, then rushes on to her next point. "I want you to be happy too. And you seem so sad since you came back from Etherea. It doesn't seem like this faith is bringing you happiness. I know we had our struggles on Earth and Sanctum, but there were good times too. You remember when we first got to Sanctum and you were joking around about everything in sight?"
He nods. "Mostly I remember the part where I tried to kill you, though."
She shakes her head firmly. "Focus on the happy parts. That's what I do. That's the only way to survive."
He nods again. He swallows loudly. There are still tears on his cheeks, and he's still shaking slightly, but it doesn't appear that he's crying much any more. Clarke for her part can taste the salt of tears, too, but she supposes that's only to be expected. Of course they are both crying. They care about each other a lot - naturally they find it upsetting to be at odds.
"Go take your shower." She recommends softly, now. "We can figure out a plan when you're done. I don't know why you're showering in the middle of the afternoon but go for it."
He pauses. There seems to be something else he wants to say. His jaw is tight, his eyes damp all over again.
Then he chokes out some words.
"I shower a lot since I got back from Etherea. Not sure why. It's like I'm trying to wash that place away but - but it never works." He concludes, shakier than ever.
She tries to take some calming breaths. This is terrifying, frankly - more frightening in its way than seeing Bellamy turn on her and betray her earlier. He just seems so broken. She's never seen him struggling like this. Even when he's let her see him crack before now, he has never appeared so totally lost.
She feels honoured, actually, that he's letting her in now. That even though they were on opposite sides of a war so recently, she is still the person he trusts with the truth about his state of mind.
She gathers her courage, and hopes that she is not about to make an horrific mistake.
"Would it help if I joined you?" She asks.
"What?" He sounds more shocked than upset at the idea, she thinks.
"Maybe I could join you. I could use a chance to wash my face after all this." She gestures to her damp cheeks with a hollow laugh. "And maybe - maybe sharing your shower with me could help you feel less like you're still running from Etherea? More like you've made it home?" She suggests. It sounds even sillier out loud than it did in her head, she fears, but there is no backing out now.
"You'd do that? You'd take a shower with me even though you told me to go float myself three hours ago?" He asks, incredulous.
Another deep breath. One last, brave move. If she gets this right, she might save the human race, it occurs to her suddenly.
No pressure, then.
"Bellamy. I think it's time to be honest with each other at last, isn't it? You just told me you care about me so much you'd give up transcendence if that will make me happy. I just told you I want to live with Madi and you. And I'm pretty sure I haven't stopped staring at you shirtless through this entire conversation. So let's go take a shower."
He is motionless and utterly silent for perhaps two seconds - but they feel like the longest two seconds of Clarke's life. He's just staring at her, eyes wide, jaw dropped open wider. Did she get that wrong? Was he saying he cares about her as a friend or sister?
No. No, she simply won't believe it - not after all these years so obviously, distantly loving each other.
Bellamy's here, now. He's diving towards her, reaching for her, pulling her in for a resounding kiss. She reaches her arms around him in turn and relishes the feel of his skin, warm and soft over firm muscle beneath her fingertips.
She was right. She was so perfectly, gloriously right, and it's the best feeling in the world.
"I love you. I love you even though I'm not supposed to love anyone." He tells her. It's the messiest love confession of all time, she thinks - not just the guilty implied apology, but also the mix of tears and the way he whispers it frantically against her lips.
She repays him in kind. "I love you too. I loved you all that time you were with Echo. Does that make me a bad person?"
"It makes me a worse person." He says, and doesn't bother explaining any further. Clarke thinks he probably doesn't need to, actually. She thinks the message is plain to read in the way he left Echo in Sanctum while he ran off to rescue her from Josephine.
She doesn't answer him in words. She answers him in softer kisses, in tender touches as she strokes her hand over the tense muscles in his back and shoulders.
"Let's take that shower." He suggests, actually picking her up in his arms.
She smiles, presses her face into the crook of his neck while he carries her. She's pleased he's the one who finally decided to get on with this. That proves to her that he really is invested, she thinks. He really does love her, and does plan to work with her to put this mess right.
They arrive at his bathroom. Apparently Disciples who survive Etherea get a luxurious en suite, Clarke notes. She thinks the ridiculous hierarchy of this place is proof if any were needed that this faith is more about power than holiness.
Maybe she'll save that thought for later. It's the kind of thing that might help Bellamy feel less guilty about his defection, she hopes.
He sets her down on the floor and strips off the rest of his clothes.
"What are you waiting for?" He asks her, with a game attempt at lightness. It's good to see him at least trying to remember how his old self used to act, even if he's still struggling to lose that sadness around his eyes.
She grins. "Just can't quite believe this is real after all this time. You sure about this?"
"I've never been more sure about anything in my life." He says, and she cannot help but note that he's speaking with more conviction than she heard him use earlier when he described that religious experience on Etherea.
She follows his lead. She strips herself naked. Maybe there will be time to undress each other slowly another day, if they manage to secure peace. And then the shower is running and Bellamy is tugging her under the flow of warm water.
"I love this part." He whispers, a little hoarse. "When you first get under the water and relax, you know? I think that's why I've been showering so much these last couple of days."
She nods. She can understand that. He's had a tough time. The more they remember how to communicate honestly with each other, the more sympathy she has with his point of view. It's a shame, she thinks, that she was too worked up and scared and disappointed to understand him, earlier.
"It must be good to be warm as well." She offers carefully.
He snorts out a hollow laugh. "You have no idea."
She nods, smiles, and stands there under the warm water. They are pressed together, front to front, and she thinks she can feel his cock stirring ever so slightly. But beyond that, they have done nothing to get things moving.
She takes the lead - not by reaching for his cock, but with something she thinks he needs rather more, in this moment. She's been eying tension in his neck and shoulders and back all the time they have been talking, and she doesn't like it.
That's why, as she reaches in for a soft, slow kiss, she reaches her arms around him too. She doesn't try to go for a massage, as such - not anything so complicated. Rather she simply runs her hands over his skin, warm and wet, and strokes her way across his tense muscles in what she hopes is a calming motion.
It works. She can feel him relaxing in her arms, sagging against her slightly. He's holding her tight, as well, as if he can't quite believe she's real - as if he spent months dreaming of coming home to her, she dares to wonder.
"You're OK." She whispers to him, the water on her cheeks mingling with yet more tears as she finds herself moved by his reaction to her. "You're safe. You're home now."
He snorts. "I don't have a home any more." He reminds her.
"You do. You've got me."
He lets out a choked sob, hugs her tighter than ever. She hopes that's a good thing. She hopes if he lets it all out now, he might look a little less lost when they are done with this shower.
They keep kissing and touching each other, standing there in the stream of warm water. Clarke isn't sure what pace to set, really. She wants Bellamy to be comfortable, and he's obviously still struggling with a lot of baggage. She wants to be comfortable, too, and he did betray her only yesterday. But she finds that the honesty of their conversation and the warmth Bellamy is showing her has already gone a long way to reassuring her that she is safe with him once more.
Bellamy gives her a clue. He breaks away from the kiss to start trailing his lips down her neck and as far as her breast.
It's incredible. It's incredible because it feels so good, yes, but also because she cannot believe this is finally happening at last. She gasps, tangles her fingers in his wet hair, holds his head tight against her breast. She wants more of that, thank you very much. She wants him to stay there forever and ever.
Or does she? Does she want him to come back up for a kiss, instead?
He makes the decision for her. He straightens up to kiss her, works her nipple with firm fingers instead. With his other hand he starts reaching down between her legs.
"Is this OK?" He checks.
"Yeah. Great."
He slips inside of her, then, wet from the shower and from her arousal. At least they have mostly washed away the tears, now. He starts working gently, teasing her towards pleasure.
"You're good at this." She huffs, flustered, resting her head on his shoulder.
"You too. Perfect." He tells her around a moan.
She grins. She doesn't know what she's so perfect at - she hasn't done anything yet. She wonders whether he simply means that she is perfect, and that's quite a sweet compliment, she decides. And she loves the way he's moaning even though she has barely touched him yet. He must be very much into her, and that's rather reassuring, after all these years.
She reaches for his cock, starts toying with him gently. She's more stroking for her own pleasure, for the texture of his skin beneath her fingertips, than actively trying to rub one out. He feels great - long and hard and warm but soft in a way, too. She can't wait to spend more time with this cock in the years to come.
They had better find a peace deal that sticks, then.
She starts trying to work his cock more purposefully. He's doing a great job with his hand and she wants to make it good for him in turn. But it's difficult, because she's pretty close already. She can't really concentrate on much besides Bellamy's fingers, his other hand on her breast, his lips warm and wet against hers.
Then he starts groaning into her mouth, and she's gone. She's there, pleasure crashing over her as her hand goes still and tight on his cock.
Crap. That probably didn't feel good for him. She forces herself to let go, smudges an apology against his lips.
"No worries." He tells her, lighter than she has heard him talk in years - never mind since Etherea. "It was hot. I loved feeling you lose it like that."
She smiles a little, tries to resume working his cock.
He stops her with a hand over hers. "No. I've got a better idea. Trust me?"
She nods urgently. She does trust him. They had a major wobble along the way, yes. But it is not the first big fight they have had, and they always set things right. Forgiveness is what they do best. So she is ready to relax and put her faith in him, now. She has to admit that she's still a little out of step with her own heart, in this moment, but she knows that the best way to fix that is to work together with Bellamy.
He doesn't let her down. He scoops her up, rests her against the wall of the shower as well as holding her tight in his arms.
"I've got you." He whispers, calm and confident. It's good to hear him talk like that again.
"I know. It feels great." She tells him honestly. He hasn't even got his cock inside of her, yet, but it feels fantastic just to be held so close, as if she is truly precious to him.
Then it gets better. He slips his cock inside of her, starts building up a careful rhythm. He's taking small strokes, careful not to slip on the shower floor, careful not to drop her. But it's good all the same. This angle gives a delicious pressure right on her clit, and she likes it.
"So good." She murmurs, wanting to remind him as often as possible that he's not alone any more.
"You too." He huffs. "I've waited way too long for this."
"Same here." She admits on a giggle.
"Were any of those radio calls sexy?" He asks.
She's stunned. She can't believe he just asked that, light and curious, at exactly this moment. They never did talk about the radio calls, not really. And she has always been disappointed by that - they were a big deal to her, and she has struggled with the idea that they meant little to him.
And now he's asking here?
It makes sense, she realises, after a moment. He didn't ask about them because he couldn't. That's why he's asking here and now as they're getting together. Because he understood they came from a place of love, and couldn't figure out how to ask about them while they weren't together.
They've both been rather foolish, she decides.
"They weren't meant to be." She pants out by way of answer, in the end.
"But you couldn't resist?" He teases brightly, breathlessly.
She slaps him gently on the butt. "There was definitely one day I told you I missed your hands. That was a low point." She admits.
She expects him to laugh. But he doesn't. He only holds her tighter than ever, brings his lips to hers for a searing kiss. They've kissed a lot, today, but this is something else. This is hungry and almost frantic, but determined and possessive too.
To her disappointment, he pulls back from the kiss after a couple of minutes.
"We need to take this to the bed." He tells her, apologetic. "Sorry. I can't go very hard like this. I'm too worried about slipping or dropping you."
She grins. "You want to fuck me harder?"
He raises his brows, laughter in his eyes. "Yeah. But I also want my hands free to help you along. I'm not just being selfish."
"You're the least selfish person I know." She reminds him. That seems to be something he needs help with rather often, she has noticed.
Apparently satisfied, he carries her out of the shower. Clarke isn't sure what she's expecting - maybe that they will take a pause to dry themselves, or at least that he might put her down.
He does no such thing. He carries her straight to the bed, drops her right in the middle of it. He's on top of her at once, hips over hers, then he's slipping inside her and building up a faster rhythm.
"Better?" She asks.
"Better." He agrees.
He meant what he said about helping her along, too, it turns out. He's got one hand on her breast, the other tucked under her shoulders to hold her tight against him. He's kissing her firmly, too, pushing her head right into the pillow. She likes that more than she expected to, likes the reminder that he's strong and he's back at her side where he belongs, now.
He's getting sloppy, now, in the best possible way. His kisses are growing messier and his hips are shuddering faster. He's reaching a hand down to her clit, tipping her over the edge with a few expert touches just as he comes himself.
Wow. That's all she's got. Just wow.
"Bree was right." She finds herself saying, when they are done. She's not thought of Bree in quite some time. Perhaps she ought to have some kind of memorial to the people they have lost more often.
"What?"
"She always swore you were some kind of sex god."
He snorts. "I don't know. I'm kind of weak and pathetic compared to what I was before Etherea. We might have to practise the shower sex more."
"Our timing was good though." She points out.
He laughs. "Yeah. I think that's luck more than anything else. Or maybe we're just soulmates." He offers, teasing - or rather, trying to tease, and not entirely succeeding.
"Let's go with that." Clarke says easily. "We're meant to be together, and that's why the sex is incredible."
"Yeah - you - wow." He tries again. "That was so good it was almost worth the wait."
She smiles sadly. He rolls off her, and they snuggle together for a cuddle.
"Sorry about my wet hair." She mutters. She's lying on his chest, and she figures that must be cold and uncomfortable.
"Don't be. It's worth it." He presses a kiss to the crown of her head as if to prove his point. "We got the bed wet too. Maybe I should have thought of that."
"Now you really will have to help me find a compromise. Otherwise the game will be up the second a Disciple sees this bed and realises we had soggy sex in it."
He laughs - a little tight, but a laugh all the same. "Soggy sex? Soggy?"
"Also wonderful. But you have to admit it was wet."
He hums in agreement. They simply lie there together for a couple of seconds, holding each other tight, pressing occasional kisses to whatever skin they can reach.
At length, Bellamy speaks up.
"I was going to do it anyway. Not because of the wet bed. But because I really love you. I really want us to be happy more than I want this faith. I still have some stuff to figure out but - I'm with you. You helped me out with Jaha back when we first knew each other. I guess it's my turn to help you out with Cadogan now."
"What? So we come full circle and you can stop feeling like you owe me something?" She asks, a little exasperated.
"Partly that. But partly - that was the beginning of us fighting together. Maybe this could be the end of us fighting together and the beginning of us finding peace together. Like bookends. Does that make any sense?"
She smiles affectionately. Bookends. Etherea can kiss her ass - this man is still her Bellamy. He must be, if he's lying in bed talking about bookends.
"That makes perfect sense. You're right. Maybe our fight will be over soon - but in a good way."
"I like the sound of that."
Thanks for reading!