His eyes shot open as he heard screaming. He looked over to his left at Clarke who cried out in her sleep. It was just a nightmare, he thought. They weren't in danger again.
"Clarke," Bellamy sat up and whispered. The sheet fell to his waist. She continued to cry out for him, and he reached out to her to gently wake her. "Clarke, hey. Wake up."
"Bellamy?" Clarke said and sat up. Her hands flew to her neck and bare chest. She tried to calm her heavy breathing. Her heart was racing. She looked over at him, and their eyes met.
"It was just a dream, okay. You and I? We're okay," Bellamy said. He noticed the water in her eyes, and he ran his hand up and down her back.
"He- he killed you, and- and his hands were—."
"Look at me," Bellamy interrupted and carefully sat up. He took her hand in his and raised it to his bare chest. "Feel that?" Clarke nodded. She shivered and pulled the sheets back up around her. "You're a doctor
which means you know by my beating heart that I'm still alive. Okay? You are too. He's long gone. We're safe now, Princess."
"Thank you, Bellamy," Clarke sniffed. She started to wipe a tear from her eye, but Bellamy stopped her and gently brushed it away with his thumb.
"You're welcome, Princess. Now get some sleep. We've got a long walk ahead of us tomorrow."
"I don't know if I can. I'm almost scared to."
"Come here," Bellamy said. He winced as he moved to the wall that the bed was pushed against. He put the pillow behind his injured shoulder and leaned against the corner. He pulled the sheet up on his lap further than it had been, and Clarke held the sheet around her chest as she moved over him. She gently rested her head over on his bare chest.
Bellamy put his good arm behind her and gently ran his fingers up and down her bare back. He pressed his lips against the top of her head. He quickly realized what he had done and wasn't even sure why he did it.
Clarke froze. Her heart was racing.
"Bellamy," she said quietly, "what is this? We just had sex. I mean-." Clarke's rambling was cut off by Bellamy.
"I don't know, Princess. I promise we'll talk about it later, okay. Get some rest."
"Goodnight, Bell," Clarke whispered. Rested her head on his warm, bare chest. She could feel his heart racing just as quickly as hers had been. She looked at her watch that ready 1:47 am. Clarke yawned and stared at the wall.
This side of Bellamy was so much different than the side she bickered with in the camp on a day to day basis. This side was sweet and comforting, and it was almost as if he cared.
It was supposed to be a one night stand, but then he kissed her on the head. He was holding her because she was scared to fall asleep. He was comfortingly rubbing her exposed back. He wasn't making snarky comments about his having to save her life.
Clarke tried to rid her thoughts of Bellamy. She needed to sleep. She shut her eyes and tried to concentrate on falling asleep. Eventually it worked and her breathing fell into line with Bellamy's chest as it rose and fell.
He sat there staring at the opposite end of the bunker. There was no way he was going to be well rested for tomorrow. He looked down at the sleeping Clarke who desperately clung to his body. To say it had been a rough day was the understatement of the year. Clarke had gotten the worst of the trauma, and he hated that she did.
His mind jumped back to the question she asked him, and to be honest, Bellamy wasn't quite sure what this was. It was only supposed to be a hook up and nothing more, but she made him feel things he didn't know he could feel. She made him feel pain because she was in pain. She made him care. He hated that he couldn't save her from that pain. All these emotions that he felt, it confused him because for some reason, she was different. Clarke was different from all the other girls he had ever hooked up with.
He shouldn't care though. He wasn't supposed to care about the girl who had it easy growing up when everything for him was hell. She was privileged. He was supposed to hate people from the station where she came from. They were the ones that floated his mother. They were the once who imprisoned his sister for simply being born.
He wasn't supposed to care, but, nonetheless, he did. Bellamy was trapped in a bunker, naked, and in bed with her. Because for some unforeseen reason, he cared.
He leaned his head back against the wall and did his best to breathe though the pain in his shoulder. He wasn't sure how he could possibly fall asleep, but somehow, he knew he would manage.