There was a rustling in the dark and then a weight on her back. In her half-asleep state, her brain didn't even try to comprehend the situation. It just switched on at maximum grumpiness. She kicked out her leg viciously. She took no further action, because she recognised the grunt and the crashing noise. It wasn't the first time Bellamy had fallen off their bed. It wasn't even the tenth time. It was a small bed, in a small tent, and she was a restless sleeper.
She regretted the kick. She didn't regret his pain – he deserved that. But he had yanked the blanket down with him, and now she was cold.
"So that's the thanks I get for trying to give you a present. I won't make that mistake again." His voice was teasing, so he clearly wasn't hurt too badly.
Clarke snuggled down deeper into the bed, burying her face in the pillow. "Last night you promised me the present of a nice lie-in. No intruders, you said. I'll fight them off with an axe, you said."
There was a guilty pause. "Oh. I forgot about that. But it's partly your fault. You gave me a bottle of moonshine and then distracted me with your wiles. Knocked the promise right out of my head."
"I won't make that mistake again," she vowed. She rarely got to sleep in, always on the edge of one emergency or another. Sleep was sacred.
"Yes, you will."
Clarke just grumbled incoherently and rolled over, eyes firmly shut.
"I'll give you a hint."
"I don't want a hint, I want sleep. A promise is a promise, even if you don't remember it."
"Then maybe I'll just have to persuade you."
Her ears perked up at that. Bellamy had some delightful persuasion techniques. If he had led with that, she would have been up and awake in a flash. She opened her eyes to see that he was kneeling next to the head of the bed, inches away. Their noses were almost touching.
"Just look at the present. Please?"
Not what she had in mind. Not in this context, at least. She would have felt triumphant glee if he had said that word last night, but he had stubbornly resisted.
Still. His hair was rumpled in a cute way that made her want to mess it up more, and his stare had enough heat to melt a glacier. His eyes weren't just innocently asking for attention. They promised seduction. And despite all evidence to the contrary, Bellamy wasn't usually one to break a promise.
She would look at his present, and then maybe she could stay in bed all day, with company. Without her blanket, she would need something else to keep her warm. "Okay. Hand it over."
It was a box. It wasn't a pretty box. It was a dull ashy colour, and it had no decoration. She could feel by its weight that it was utterly empty. It took her breath away. "Is this…?"
Bellamy smirked triumphantly at the look on her face. "We finally did it. A sealed sterilised box, fully tested and operational. You can put your nastiest poisons in there and sleep like a baby."
"Medicines. Antidotes. Maybe one poison, but it's really very mild…"
"You're welcome. Do you feel bad about that kick now?"
She looked upwards at the ceiling for a few moments. It probably looked like she was praying for the patience to deal with his sarcasm, but really, she was working up her nerve. A week ago, she had made a decision, and she had been sitting on it ever since, waiting for the right moment. And what could be a worthier moment than this, when she could one-up her boyfriend's thoughtful gift and wipe the smirk off his face? "You know, I was thinking the other day. We should really find a use for that pile of wood rotting away outside. You still have those cabin designs, don't you?"
Sure enough, the smirk disappeared, but his eyes lit up like a match. "You're finally letting me build our cabin."
"A cabin."
"Our cabin."
She shrugged. "Whatever makes you happy."
He settled down next to her on the mattress, so they were lying side-by-side. "You make me happy. I'd just like us to be happy and warm. Happy and with a shred of privacy."
Happy and committed, he didn't say. This close to Bellamy, she could feel the thrum of nervous anxiety running through him. He was practically vibrating with it. She couldn't keep playing it cool, in the face of that. She wriggled over, resting her head on his chest. The rise and fall of it was comforting. "I'm sorry that I made you wait. I was always sure of you. It's fate that I don't trust. I still don't know if this camp will last. We have a bad track record. But I think the people will. I think we will. Walls or no walls."
"I would personally prefer walls."
She kissed him, sweet and slow, trying to say what she wanted without words. She kept her hand on his chest. She couldn't feel his heartbeat through his jumper, but she knew it by heart anyway. His fingers tangled in her hair. They both laid propped up on their sides and it felt like one little push could rock them over one way or the other, but they stayed steady. Their hands shifted position in unison, hers cupping his cheek and one of his fingers tracing a line up her arm to her elbow, giving her goose bumps and then a ticklish feeling. She shyed away for a moment with a shiver and an involuntary giggle, but then moved in even closer than before and held tightly to his shoulders. It was a beautiful kiss, and she wanted to drown in it. But the words only grew louder and louder, until she couldn't remember why she had wanted to keep them in. She drew back and buried her face in his jumper. It was softer than her pillow. "I love you."
It came out as a mumble, but a very clear mumble, at least to a person who had just read her heart on her lips. She had never said those words out loud to him before, but it wasn't the first time he had heard them in the silence. It wasn't even the tenth time. He whispered in her ear, because he had secretly grown to like quiet truths. "I love you too."
He held her hands and pulled them outwards, one facing North and one facing East. It reminded her of a waltzing position. It made her feel more open and she let herself uncurl. They talked well into the day, just like that, with more honesty than they ever had before. Bellamy was belatedly true to his word, and after the scribbling of a hasty but sternly worded do-not-disturb warning for their tent flap, there was no one to disturb them. When there was nothing more to say, they drifted off to sleep, and all was quiet.
Bellamy had tried to prove his love with a box. Clarke had retaliated with a bigger box. Neither of them realised that the proof was entirely unnecessary. They were two of the most cynical and hopeful people on the planet, depending on whether it was a Monday or a Tuesday. But their love was obvious and constant. It couldn't be contained, not by boxes or by fear.
The rumour mill couldn't be contained either. The story got out, and a gifting craze spread through the camp like wildfire. It was the spirit of a holiday that nobody remembered. It was far away from the time and place it belonged to, but it was still home.