A/N: updated as per request, and because they're too precious.
They're fucking around in a study room, which is great, as always. Monty's come prepared with hash brownies and Harp's playing DJ. Bellamy's sitting across from Clarke, who, unlike the rest of the gang, is actually working diligently. To remind her they're having fun, he folds up a paper football and flicks it at her.
The glare she gives him both intimidates and humors him. "C'mon, Princess, haven't you studied enough already?"
"No." She looks back at her notes, and she's surrounded by highlighters, what a nerd, and Bellamy just wants to piss her off at this point. That's always fun.
He reaches over and slides away her blue marker, which he knows is for important terms. She notices instantly, her eyes alight with fury, and he knows he's up for a fun brawl.
Clarke holds her hand out, palm up, like that'll get him to budge. How cute.
"Looking for something?" he asks innocently, as though the pen wasn't hidden beneath his thigh. His hand is inching across the table, in pursuit of the highlighter's orange twin.
Clarke slaps her hand over the pen but isn't fast enough to keep him from snatching up the yellow one.
(Harper, noticing the oncoming fight, puts on some rock song that ups the dramatics. Bless her.)
The princess's patience starts wearing thin. "Bellamy Blake, if you do not give that back to me right now, I'll-"
"You'll what?" he urges her, and, fuck, he's loving every minute of this.
"I'll never make you lunch ever again," and, well, he does love her lunch.
But Bellamy is not a quitter. "You could do worse."
They get into an intense glare-off, which Monty so kindly commentates.
"Clarke's fiery fury is enough to burn down a city, yet Bellamy's slightly lifted brow and douchebag smirk is always a crowd favorite. It's a tough call, folks..."
And then Clarke's up, circling the table, and promptly leaning over him. "Give it to me." Her voice is so demanding.
"Give what to you?" Oh, he was in trouble. He stands up too, markers clutched behind his back.
She's getting frustrated, so frustrated, her brows knit together in that way of hers. She's thinking, he knows, she's coming up with a plan of attack.
She lunges for his back, and he turns around casually. She tries again but to no avail, and she grunts. "Bellamy!"
This time she reaches around him and he raises the highlighters over his head because he's not above using his height advantage. "C'mon, Princess, you gotta do better than that."
"Banter! Teasing! The crowd erupts with cheers!" Monty's holding Clarke's green highlighter as a microphone. (Her sharp glare does not deter him.)
She stands in front of him stubbornly, arms crossed. "Bell..."
"Blake remains in place! What will Griffin's next move be?" Harper pitches in, clutching a pink highlighter, her music switching to intense movie score.
"Oh, oh, what's this?-And she's jumping!" Monty narrates as, yes, Clarke struggles to reach the highlighters.
"I hate you guys!" Clarke growls.
Bellamy waves them above her head tauntingly, his laughter booming. He's a dick, maybe, but he's a fun one. "God, you're short. Grow already."
Her hands are waving crazily above her head and their game of keep away intensifies as Monty throws the orange marker at Bell.
"You're so short, can you even hear me down there?" He maneuvers each of the markers in between his fingers, letting them stand proudly above his head.
"And Blake unleashes his Wolverine claws!" Harper howls as Clarke groans.
He's about to take another jab at her stature when she gets a devious glint in her eyes. "No. Clarke, don't you dare-"
It's too late. She's tickling his sides, his stomach, his arm pits, and he's fighting to keep the markers from her as he laughs hysterically. "Give up, Blake!" And she's laughing too.
He has to give up after a bit because a.) he doesn't want her to be too pissed, and b.) he's too ticklish to function. The others are doubled over with laughter as she takes back her remaining highlighters, and Clarke's smug about winning, which is enough to distract her, he thinks, as he scoots his chair closer to the table.
(Monty's going wild now, because, yeah, he knows exactly what Bellamy's hiding.)
"Wasn't that fun?" he says, winking at her.
Clarke flings the highlighter at his face, and he falls for her a little more.