Hit Me //Bellarke//

Chapter 13

Clarke awoke slowly from her dreamless sleep, the early morning sunlight shining through the drop ship curtains and on her face. She rubbed her eyes and reached up to stretch but found that her arms were trapped... by someone else's. Looking up she saw Bellamy, his grip not loosening even with her stirring. He was still asleep, his hair disheveled and his face peaceful.
What the fuck is happening?

Memories from last night suddenly flooded her mind. Her nightmare, him being there, falling asleep in each others arms. She tried to escape his clutch but his arms were wrapped so tightly around her body. He was warm, his slow breaths hot on her ear, the smell of fire smoke and whiskey clinging to him. Clarke gulped, realizing every bit of her skin that was touching his was heated and almost tingling. She looked up at him again, trying not to admire how attractive he was when he wasn't scowling and when his face was relaxed.
I had no nightmares last night.

And with that thought she bolted upright and stepped quickly away from Bellamy's sleeping form.

He stirred, grumbling and rubbing his eyes. "Did I wake you?" she asked, her voice raspy from sleep.
"Not at all," he drawled, sitting up with a yawn.
Clarke kneeled in front of him, her heart still racing from their close embrace. "I'm sorry... for that and for last night. You shouldn't have had to deal with that, that part of me."

Bellamy reached forward and squeezed her shoulders gently. "Don't apologize for what you can't control."
She gave him a slight smile.
He bit his lip, "I also haven't slept that soundly in a long time."
"Me too."
They smiled at each other for a moment, and she couldn't help but notice the warmth in his eyes, before he shook his head and got up. "I've got work to do so I guess I'll see you later then."
Clarke stood as well, wiping her sweaty palms on her pants. "Ya a-and um good l-luck."

Bellamy playfully saluted her before picking up a discarded knife on the floor, and leaving.

Clarke leaned against a table, running a hand through her hair. Why was her heart suddenly racing in his presence? What's gotten into me?

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The knife went flying. The blade lodging itself in the bark of a tree. Bellamy wiped the sweat from his brow, and stepped forward to collect the five knifes embedded in the tree along a scratched out target that he kept missing.
The same thought had been racing through his mind for hours, I can't kill her.

Murphy and Atom were gone, leaving just him to finish the mission but with none of the information that his leaders needed, Bellamy wasn't sure if that was possible. He needed to protect his sister, but he wasn't sure if he would ever kill Clarke to do it.

The way she had felt in his arms, she had been peaceful and for once slightly vulnerable, it had felt so right and his stomach churned at the thought of that never happening again.

He threw the knives again, the last of the five making the target. Bellamy didn't want to think about who's head that might have to be.

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They were in the forest, her and Bellamy, laughing under a canopy of leafy trees and sunlight. He had told her some stupid joke and she had just let go, the sound of her joy filling the air. Clarke liked the way he looked when he laughed. His eyes crinkled and slight dimples showed beside a wide, toothy grin. And from the way he moved closer to her and the way his gaze traveled over her face, he liked the way she laughed as well.

They were quiet now. All sounds in the forest seemed to have vanished, there was nothing but the two of them, only their slow breaths and Clarke's pounding heart. Bellamy moved closer until she could feel the warmth from his body. Never moving his eyes from her own he gently cupped the side of her face with a calloused hand, the other moving to the small of her back. She placed a hand on his chest to steady herself, the other wrapping around the back of his neck.