Clarke and Bellamy get caught in a snow storm, and seek shelter in an abandoned farmhouse. They make it through the night with their usual combination of bickering and codependence.
"Clarke, get in here. Now!" Bellamy shouts, his voice almost lost in the howling wind. She hesitates outside of the battered farmhouse, looking doubtful.
"I don't know…" He can't hear her, but he can read her lips. Fed up, he marches back into the storm, grabbing her by the arm, and drags her into the house. Once inside, she yanks her arm from his grip, glaring at him.
"Glare at me all you want," He mutters. "You would have frozen to death out there." As if on cue, a particularly vicious gale of wind rattles the door on it's hinges. Clarke just crosses her arms and continues to frown at him. Sighing, Bellamy turns and heads further into the house. It takes a moment, but he finally hears Clarke's footsteps behind him.
"Where are you going?"
"To find some blankets, or a fireplace. I don't know if you've noticed but that's a blizzard out there." She sniffs haughtily at him, and he rolls his eyes. He doesn't know why, but she's been in a bad mood all day, and it hasn't exactly made their trip to scout a site for their new camp a fun one. "What crawled up your butt today?" He asks, continuing his search through what seems to have once been a linen closet.
"Excuse me?"
"You've been a total pain in my ass all day. I mean, even more than usual." He adds, glancing back at her. When they first landed on the ground in that drop ship he had hated her. Then everything changed, and they've been through so much together that she's the only person he really trusts anymore. She's the closest friend he has. But right now, she's getting on his nerves, and if he's going to be stuck in here while they wait for this storm to die down he at least wants to know why.
"Finn." Is all she says, but that's really all he needs to know. He sighs again. Spacewalker. Things have been complicated ever since the shooting. Finn's been walking around feeling sorry for himself while the rest of the camp ignores him, Clarke is the only one who will go anywhere near him, and it looks like she's finally had enough of him now, too.
"Trouble in paradise?" He asks. He can't help himself. He can practically feel her eyes boring holes in the back of his head.
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"
"Because we're all funny." He grins sarcastically at her. "Now either help me look for some blankets or go see if there's anything to eat." At first this house seemed like a safe place to ride out the storm, but it's just as cold in here as it is outside, and his stomach is grumbling angrily. They've gone days without food before, but he doesn't feel like making the five-mile long trek back to Camp Jaha on an empty stomach. Clarke exits with a dramatic sigh and Bellamy chuckles to himself. Even while she's like this, there's no one he'd rather be stuck with. Except maybe Octavia.
He manages to find a couple old quilts that haven't been too badly destroyed by moths, and sets off to find Clarke. The house is bigger than he first thought, and he suddenly realizes it's probably been half an hour since he's heard from her. Ignoring the frisson of nerves in his chest, he searches the house, his pace picking up to a jog after a few minutes. With her nowhere to be found, he starts to worry a little more.
"Clarke!" He shouts, standing in the kitchen. Where the hell can she have gone? The idea that maybe they aren't actually alone in this house pops into his head, and the worry turns to something like panic. "Damnit, Clarke! Where are you?" The answering scream turns his blood to ice, and he sprints toward the sound, finding a trap door hidden in the floor. He tosses the blankets aside and wrenches it open. "Clarke?" No answer. Swearing, he lowers himself into the blackness. He drops down, his feet hitting the floor after a second or two, and spots a faint beam of light. Practically racing towards it, he finds Clarke in the corner of what he can only describe as the creepiest cellar on earth. She's squatting on the floor, her face in her hands. He closes the distance between them, grabbing her hands and tugging them away from her face.
"What the hell happened?" He asks, on edge. Half of him is still tensed for battle, waiting for a reaper to jump out at them from the shadows. She just shakes her head, and points to something behind him. He turns, and topples over sideways in surprise. His first instinct is jump in front of Clarke, to protect her, and then he realizes that the man towering over them is dead. "Jesus." He mutters, turning back to Clarke. Whoever that was, he's no longer a threat. Bellamy tries to stand, to walk over to inspect the body, but Clarke grabs his hand.
"Wait." She says. "Just-just wait." At first he doesn't understand, this guy isn't a threat, he's dead, but then he notices that the hand that's gripping his so tightly is shaking, and that realization sends a pang through his chest. He's going soft, he thinks. But he stays anyways, sits down beside her, and winds his arm around her shoulders. They sit like that until she stops shaking, then he hauls her to her feet. There's nothing to gain by sitting down here and staring at this corpse all night. He pushes her gently toward the trap door, giving her a boost. She climbs out, and maybe it's not the most appropriate time, but he sure admires the view as she pulls herself back up into the kitchen. He has to jump to grab the ledge above him, but months of strenuous physical labour make the task of pulling himself up easy. Once he's out, Clarke slams the hatch shut, with a little more force than is necessary.
"You scared the shit out of me." He says. She looks embarrassed.
"Sorry. It was dark down there, I thought he was…"
"Alive?"
"Yeah." She nods. Bellamy sits back on the floor, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Clarke looks over at the blankets. "You found some blankets." He nods, still catching his breath. He doesn't like the way he can't think when she's in danger, doesn't like the way even a memory of her scream ties his stomach into knots. She's under his skin now, he realizes. It's a dangerous place to be.
"Okay." He stands, holds out his hand and helps her up. "Let's see if there's anything to eat in this shithole." They resume their search, but this time he doesn't let her out of his sight. Every time she wanders too far it's like a cold wind comes up behind him and he yells at her. She's clearly starting to get annoyed, but he doesn't really care. Whatever just happened, he's not willing to go through it again. Eventually they find a pantry, but everything in it is a century old, and he's not really sure what he was expecting. Clarke groans.
"There's nothing viable here. Let's just call it a night. One of us should go get some snow, we need water at least." She heads toward the door, but Bellamy's hand snakes out, clamping around her wrist.
"I don't think so." He tells her, pushing past her toward the door. "I'll go." Rolling her eyes, Clarke stalks off toward the living room. He hears her flop onto one of the ancient couches and smiles. Regardless of what people say about her, she's never boring company. He heads out and grabs a few buckets of snow, the wind nearly blowing him over a couple of times. There hasn't been a storm even close to this since they've been on the ground, and he can only hope it will last hours rather than days.
Later, they sit on opposite couches, huddled under piles of blankets. It's impossible to tell with the sky being whited out, but Bellamy suspects it's close to midnight. He watches her shiver for a few more minutes, then shuffles over to where she's sitting, grabbing her blankets and pulling them away.
"What are you doing? I'm freezing!" She shouts at him, or something along those lines. He can barely make out what she's saying over the chattering of her teeth.
"I know. Move over." He commands, and though she glares at him, she slides over to make room. He sits beside her, pulling her tightly against him, then throws both sets of blankets over top. "Body heat, princess. There's no point in us both freezing to death to protect your personal space." She smacks him, but it's so lacking in force that he glances down at her in concern. Her lips are starting to turn blue, he realizes, and her face is as white as the blizzard. "Jesus." He grumbles. He's beginning to think he swears more around her than anyone else, simply because he worries so damn much. She presses her face into the crook of his neck, and when those icy lips touch his skin he can't help but let out a hiss. He thinks he can feel her smiling into his neck.
"I'm not with Finn." She mutters into his neck. He wants to look at her, but he's surprisingly comfortable exactly as they are, so instead he just frowns at the wall.
"Okay." He had wondered about that, though he would never ask. Clarke was almost nearly always with him or the spacewalker, and he knows they have a history. It shouldn't matter to him. Still, he's glad. These days Finn is… unstable at best. Bellamy tells himself the only reason he's glad they aren't together is because he thinks she's safer without Finn. Even in his own head it's not convincing.
"Everyone thinks I am."
"Well, that's probably because your little love triangle was the best gossip in camp for weeks. You realize you started a trend right?" He can feel her starting to warm up. Now that they're not so cold, her lips feel soft against his neck, and he tries to focus on something else.
"What do you mean?" Every time she speaks it distracts him, her mouth moving against his skin. This is strangely intimate, he realizes.
"I mean kids were sneaking off to your little love bunker for days until I got someone to stand guard over there." Clarke snorts.
"I guess it was the only privacy they could get." She mused. "It's kind of distracting when you know someone could barge into your tent at any minute." She yawns. "Kind of hot, though." Bellamy's eyes widen, but he doesn't want to disturb her, so he doesn't move his head.
"I really don't need to hear about your sexual adventures with the spacewalker." He says, annoyed.
"Mmm, no that wasn't with Finn." She murmurs sleepily. This is news to Bellamy. He's never heard of her being with anyone else from the camp.
"What, who-"
"Miller." She cuts him off, anticipating his question. He jumps up beside her, cracking his head on the low ceiling.
"What?!" He asks angrily, rubbing his head. He's actually not sure what hurts more, the bump on his head or the idea of Clarke hooking up with his right hand man. It's none of my business, he remembers. Like hell it's not, though.
"Not that it's any of your business." Clarke says, echoing his thoughts. She's staring at him like she can't quite figure him out. Patting the couch beside her, she sighs. "Bellamy, get back over here. You're letting all the warm air out." He does so, reluctantly. Getting the sense that she's tired, he stretches out on the couch, resting his head on the armrest. She does the same, so her full length is pressed into his front. Intimate, he thinks again. Then he thinks of Miller. Imagines stringing him up by the toenails. Clarke probably wouldn't go for that.
They fall asleep like that, pressed together and just warm enough.
Bellamy wakes up to a face full of blonde hair.
"Wh-" He reaches up to brush it out of his face. This isn't the first time he's woken up like this, limbs tangled with some girl, morning wood pressing insistently into her back. It is the first time its happened fully clothed, though, and he's momentarily puzzled by that. Then he catches sight of the window, and the walls, and oh this is not just any girl I'm poking with my hard on. For a moment, he doesn't really know what to do. Clarke looks so peaceful in sleep, and the truth is she could probably use it. If he gets up, if he moves, they're so tightly wound together there's no way she won't wake up. Sighing, he tries to shift just enough to… redirect the problem. She stirs beside him, rolls over to blink at him.
"Hey." She says. He smiles.
"Good morning." She smiles back, and he aches a little bit at how natural this feels, waking up together, her sleepy face blinking up at him. He's well past the point of denial, he realizes. He's fallen for her, hard.
"The snow stopped." She observes, and he glances out the window to see that she's right. The sky is clear, and although it looks like they'll be trekking through a foot of snow, this is as good as it's going to get. He sighs.
"We should head out." She nods, and sits up beside him, her hair falling down around her shoulders. He's staring, he realizes, and looks away.
"I'll give you a minute." Clarke offers, a knowing smile on her lips. All that does is remind him that he's not the first guy she's ever woken up with, and that alone is enough to kill his wood.
"I'm fine." He mutters. They collect their things, finish what's left of the water, and head out. It's beautiful outside, but it's blinding. Snow covers everything, and all he can see is white.
"Let's go." Clarke says, looking like she isn't at all excited for the hike ahead of them. He knows just how she feels.
"Clarke," He begins, as they head out. "How do you feel about hanging someone by their toenails? You know, morally?" She shoots him a dry look. "What?"
"Bellamy," She says, squinting at him. "No. Leave Miller alone." He gapes up at her.
"How'd you know-"
"Because I know you." She smiles. Hesitates. "And I know the other thing too." He's lost then, for a moment, because she could be talking about a million things, but then she looks back at him, eyes soft and warm, and he knows.
"Oh." He croaks, mouth suddenly dry.
"And Bellamy?"
"Yeah?"
"Me too."