Clarke pulled her backpack out of her locker. "Seriously…I'm too tired to even contemplate retying my shoes right now. There's no way I can change clothes."

Bryan chuckled from the locker a few spaces down. "What happened? Was Indra that bad? You usually like working in Peds."

Clarke sighed. "No, she was fine. Well, she was terrifying, but that's nothing new. It's just been…a rough night. These 7pm-7am shifts suck. They suck hairy monkey balls."

"Go home and get some sleep," he said sympathetically, patting her on the shoulder as she walked past him on her way out the door.

"You too."

Clarke got on the elevator, not even paying attention as her body found its way on auto-pilot.

She was halfway through the lobby when she heard her name being called. Glancing up, she saw Bellamy leaning against the wall next to one of the giant fish tanks.

"Bell…what are you doing here?" She frowned, glancing over him. "You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

He scoffed. "No, I didn't hurt myself, Clarke. I'm here to take you to breakfast."

"Breakfast?" she asked, as if it was a totally foreign concept.

His eyebrows rose. "You know…the thing most people eat in the morning? Usually involves eggs of some kind. Maybe some bacon…pancakes…French toast if you're feeling really wild."

She rolled her eyes. "I know what breakfast is, Bellamy. Did we have plans that I completely forgot about?"

"No," he said, putting his hand on the small of her back and leading her toward the doors.

"So you just showed up in the hospital lobby at 7 on a Sunday morning to take me to breakfast just for the hell of it?" she asked, still trying to look at him as he propelled her through the doors and onto the sidewalk.

"Pretty much."

She stopped just outside the hospital. "Bell, I'm exhausted and I look like shit…" she gestured to her scrubs. "I was just going to go home and pass out."

"Have you eaten at all since the tacos?" he asked, as if he knew the answer was no.

"Yes!"

He narrowed his eyes. "What?"

Clarke held his gaze as long as she could before finally admitting, "Bryan handed me an apple sometime around midnight."

Bellamy's face of disapproval got sterner, if that was even possible. "Clarke."

"I was busy!"

"Uh-huh," he said, again using his hand on her back to push her toward the diner next door.

"Bell, I need to go home and crash. I'm exhausted."

His face softened as he looked down at her. "I know. I figured you'd be dead on your feet after…yesterday…and malnourished to boot. So, we're going to go in here, you're going to at least make an effort to eat something, and then you're going to crash at my place. Just think, in the time it would take you to drive to your house, you'll have already eaten and be back at my place, drooling on your favorite blanket," he said, smiling as he held the door to the diner open for her.

She narrowed her eyes, trying not to smile. "I don't drool," she said, walking under his arm and inside.

"You do," he replied, pausing to tell the hostess that they'd need a table for two and then following her toward the back of the diner. "It's cute," he said, smirking and definitely not looking at Clarke.

"Jackass," she muttered as he held her chair out for her.

The next few minutes were spent in silence as they glanced over the breakfast menus in front of them.

Clarke finally set hers down, glancing at the man across from her. "You were worried about me," she said softly, more a statement than a question.

His eyes came up to meet hers. "I know how much that took out of you yesterday and then you had to work a 12-hour shift. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"So you got up while it was still dark outside on your day off?!" she asked incredulously.

He shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. "Truth be told, I didn't sleep all that well."

Clarke frowned. "Why?"

"I just…I can't imagine, Clarke. I can't imagine what you were going through…what you're still going through." His hand fidgeted absently with the fork sitting on the table in front of him. "I just want to keep asking you if you're okay, but I know there's no way you can be…"

"Bell…I am," she said, placing her hand on top of his. "Or…at least I will be. I've got this crazy guy that will get up at 6 am on his day off just to make sure I eat. How could I not be okay?"

His hand moved under hers, turning to squeeze her fingers.

"He'll also let me crash at his place and drool all over his favorite blanket. What more could a girl ask for?"

Bellamy opened his mouth, his eyes boring into hers as if he was going to say something significant.

"What can I get y'all?" the waitress asked, startling both of them.

Clarke quickly released Bellamy's hand, picking her menu back up. "I'll have a glass of orange juice and…you know what? I'm feeling a little wild. Why don't you make it French toast?" she said, grinning at the man across from her.

"I can go home, Bellamy. It's not that big of a deal," Clarke said, standing in Bellamy's kitchen.

He paused just outside his bedroom door, turning back to look at her. "…do you want to go home?"

Clarke held his gaze, seeing a bit of trepidation there that matched her own. "No," she said softly, then continued after a beat, "but I don't want to take advantage of your generosity and…it's daytime. I don't want you to have to change your schedule around just because I had to work a night shift. What are you going to do while I'm asleep in your apartment?"

He scoffed. "Please. My grand plans for today were to do laundry and catch up on some work. You taking a nap in the other room isn't going to crimp my style."

Clarke raised her eyebrows. "Did you seriously just say 'crimp my style?'"

"Shut up."

"Have you been watching Gidget reruns without me again?" she teased.

Rolling his eyes, Bellamy didn't respond, heading into the bedroom in silence.

He returned just a minute or two later…in fact, Clarke was still chuckling.

"Go ahead. Clothes are on the bed," he said, heading for the couch.

Clarke glanced behind him, where she could see the same clothes she'd borrowed last time folded neatly on top of his bed, which was also tidily made.

Grabbing his arm, she stopped him, pressing a slightly longer than average kiss to his cheek before hugging him tightly. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm really really glad you seem to think I do."

By the time she pulled back, Bellamy's cheeks had colored, and his eyes didn't seem to want to meet hers.

Smiling anyway, Clarke squeezed his arm, then headed into his room, shutting the door so she could change.

A few minutes later, again comfortably clad in his roomy clothes, Clarke opened the door partway to find Bellamy sitting on the couch, pouring over a notebook and a tablet that were on the coffee table in front of him.

Clarke leaned against the door frame, watching him for a minute before she called out a gentle, "Night, Bell."

Glancing up, his gaze took in her form, which was swamped in his clothing. Smiling, he returned, "Night, Clarke."

Leaving him with a smile, Clarke padded across his room, turning down the comforter and sliding into bed.

She immediately snuggled deep into the sheets, which smelled exactly like Bellamy. It wasn't quite as good as snuggling up to the actual man, but it was the next best thing.

Clarke closed her eyes, finding a comfortable spot and expecting to drift off immediately, especially after the last 24 hours.

Surprisingly, sleep didn't come as she'd expected and she found herself still awake a good twenty minutes later.

Huffing, Clarke opened her eyes, glancing around the room.

Bellamy's room was pretty much the same as it had been for the last six years that she'd known him; there was an oak colored headboard, night stand, and dresser, and the rest of the room was mostly varying shades of blue, from the navy-blue curtains and sheets to the lighter blue plaid comforter. It definitely wouldn't win a spot in Home & Garden anytime soon, but it was straightforward, comfortable…Bellamy.

Clarke frowned, trying to remember the last time she'd slept in here. It was probably a few years ago, the night of Octavia's 21st birthday party. Everyone, Bellamy included, had gotten shit-faced, and the three of them had taken a cab back to his apartment.

Maybe that was the problem…Clarke had never slept in here without (a) being drunk and (b) without Octavia passed out beside her.

Now, being in Bellamy's apartment and not being…well…with Bellamy just seemed odd.

Tossing the covers off, Clarke padded to the doorway, peeking her head out.

Bellamy was laying on the couch on his back, seemingly staring up at the ceiling.

"Hey," she said softly.

Surprised, he turned his head toward the sound of her voice. "Hey. Can't you sleep?"

Shaking her head, she asked, "What happened to laundry and catching up on work?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I was thinking about taking a nap, you know, being super productive today."

Clarke just smiled, leaning against the door frame again.

Bellamy turned on his side to face her, scooting back to leave space at the edge. "Come on," he said gruffly.

Without a word, Clarke walked lightly across the room, only realizing that this was new territory once she got to the couch and was unsure how to proceed.

Although she'd woken up with Bellamy multiple times in the past few weeks, most of the time, she couldn't remember falling asleep with him. (She wasn't counting yesterday, because she'd fallen asleep again without moving from the position she woke up in.)

They were either tipsy or exhausted, usually falling asleep sitting up. Then, when they woke up wrapped around each other, they could pretend like it was purely circumstantial.

This…this was an entirely different beast altogether.

"I…uh," she said, standing above him, her hands fidgeting almost to the point of wringing.

He looked up at her, the expression on his face unreadable. "Just lay down, Clarke."

"Right," she said, nodding her head once…twice before sitting down gently and then laying on her side, her back to him. For some inexplicable reason, she was trying to stay on the edge of the couch, as if there was room for either of them to have any personal space to begin with. It was a deeper than normal couch, yes, but it was still just a couch.

They stayed that way for a moment or two before Bellamy let out a huff, his arm going around her waist to pull her firmly back against him. "Go to sleep, Clarke."

Clarke let out a content sigh, immediately more comfortable as he seemed to surround her.

Yeah, this was definitely better than the sheets, Clarke thought, as she almost immediately felt sleep claim her.

Clarke woke slowly, as she usually did without an alarm.

By this time, she was getting used to waking up on Bellamy's couch, so she was familiar with the fabric underneath her and the soft blanket on top of her, but she was a little confused because there wasn't a warm body pressed against hers nor an arm thrown over her waist.

Blinking a few times to clear the sleep from her eyes, she finally focused them enough to realize that there was a dark head of hair and a broad pair of shoulders just in front of her.

Apparently, Bellamy had woken up before her and was now sitting on the floor, his back against the couch right in front of her. Clarke could just make out the same tablet and notebook still on the coffee table from before, and Bellamy seemed to be using the calculator on his phone to add something.

Without even thinking about it, Clarke's hand moved up to tangle in the hair near the nape of his neck. She started absentmindedly running her fingers against his head in a motion that was meant to be soothing.

Bellamy tensed for a moment before relaxing into it. "Clarke?"

She yawned, continuing her ministrations. "Hmm?" she answered sleepily.

"You're…" he cleared his throat. "You're going to put me back to sleep if you keep doing that."

Reluctantly, she disentangled her fingers from his curls, instead moving her hand to rest in the dip of his shoulder.

It seemed so natural to press a kiss to the back of his neck, her mouth was halfway there before she realized what she was even doing.

Thankful that he couldn't see what she'd been about to do, Clarke quickly removed her hand and turned onto her back, trying to put a little distance between them. "What time is it?"

He glanced at the phone that was still in his hand. "Almost 2."

Clarke sat up. "I should probably get going. I think my Mom wanted to have dinner tonight."

"Oh…okay," he said, looking at her questioningly over his shoulder.

"I'll go get dressed," she said, standing up. "Did you want me to take these clothes home and wash them?"

"What?" he frowned. "No. Just leave them in the bedroom. I'll get them."

She nodded, hurrying into the bathroom with her clothes and shutting the door.

Taking a deep breath to calm her heart, which was currently racing, she glanced in the mirror. Her face was flushed and her eyes were wide, which perfectly conveyed how she was feeling at the moment.

She'd kissed Bellamy before, more times than she could count…on the cheek. It was what good friends did, right? It was a perfectly normal way to say 'thank you' or 'hello' or 'goodbye.'

But just a moment ago…what she'd almost done…her lips seconds away from pressing a warm kiss to the back of his neck…that didn't feel like a friend saying 'hello.'

It felt like a lover saying 'good morning.'

A barrage of images assailed her, as if she was seeing snapshots of moments from the outside, even though she'd been in them…the way they'd clung to each other when he'd first forgiven her…the way she'd woken up with her nose pressed against his chest, their legs tangled together…leaning against the back of Raven's couch just inches from each other, figuring out if it was time to go home yet…her hand over his, their fingers laced together as his arm encircled her…sitting in his lap in the grass for hours yesterday as he held her while she cried…

Clarke realized that so many of their interactions could be construed much more intimately than she'd ever realized.

Bellamy was…he was her favorite person in the entire world. He was her best friend. And he was also sort of all that was holding her together right now. She couldn't…She didn't have the energy to even contemplate…

Changing quickly and throwing her hair into a ponytail, Clarke made her way through Bellamy's bedroom and out into the living room, intending to make a quick exit before she had time to mess anything else up.

The minute she stepped into the living room and saw Bellamy's face, that plan went out the window.

"Are you okay?" he asked, worry written all over him.

Clarke wasn't sure if he was worried about her or worried that he'd done something wrong…probably some of both…but it made her realize that she couldn't run…not again.

She'd run before, when she was too afraid to feel, and it had broken both of them. Now, he'd gone above and beyond to take care of her in every way possible. She couldn't do that to him again.

Tamping down the part of herself that was screaming at her to flee because she couldn't handle the complications that would arise if she let herself think about her feelings, she forced herself to relax. "Yeah, I'm fine. I actually called my Mom…she said dinner wouldn't be until late tonight anyway, so I don't need to rush home."

"Oh. That's…Okay," he said, still watching her warily.

"So…what were you working on?" she asked, taking a seat on the couch and glancing over his shoulder. "You never said."

"Oh…this is part of my new job as a foreman. I have to keep track of the inventory on the job sites, tell the main office what parts to order, and draw up the schedules."

"That sounds like a lot of extra work."

He shrugged. "It's what I get paid extra for. I'm just trying to figure out how many cans of paint I'll need for this next job. We have a formula…you know…this many square feet of wall means this many gallons of paint, but this lady has vaulted ceilings and giant picture windows…" he trailed off, still glancing at Clarke a bit uncertainly after her attempt to dash frantically a few minutes ago.

She smiled, patting his shoulder in what she promised herself was a friendly gesture. "Math never was your strong suit. Give me the calculator, Bellamy."