Bellarke One Shots

Valentines Day

THIS IS NOT MINE!! THIS IS FROM KASS MORGAN THE AUTHOR WHO WROTE THE 100 BOOKS WHO DECIDED TO DO A BELLARKE SPECIAL. I'M JUST SHARING IT WITH YOU GUYS BECAUSE I LOVED IT SO MUCH!.

"Clarke . . . wake up. There's something I want to show you."

Bellamy's breath tickled her ear, and with a sleepy smile, Clarke rolled onto her side, pressing her back against his warm chest. "I don't have to get up yet," she mumbled. "No patients."

For the first time in weeks, the Infirmary Cabin was empty. The Squirrel Flu epidemic had passed. The girl with the broken leg had healed. And the boys who'd stupidly eaten the poisonous berries had both made a full recovery. There was no one she had to check on, no one depending on her. Finally, she could get a full night's sleep.

"Clarke, come on. We need to go."

"Go where?" she asked hoarsely.

"It's a surprise."

Clarke groaned. Bellamy's "surprises" were a mixed bag. The hidden pond he'd shown her had been beautiful. The carnivorous earthworms thicker than her arm, slightly less so. "We'll go later."

"We have to go now, before everyone wakes up." He tugged on the blanket, pulling it down a few inches, and kissed her shoulder. "Come on."

She tried to wriggle away from him, but he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, kissing her neck before moving his mouth back to her ear. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty."

Clarke sat up and glared at Bellamy. "Sleeping Beauty fell asleep because she was dumb enough to prick her finger on a needle. I'm exhausted because I've been busy keeping people from dying."

The smile fell from his face. "Okay. Go back to sleep. I'll see you later." There was no irritation in his voice, only disappointment.

Clarke sighed, then reached over and twirled her finger around a lock of his shaggy, uneven hair. She'd tried giving him a haircut earlier that week, but it hadn't turned out very well. "See you at sunset?" It was their ritual to hike up the hill and watch the dusk settle over the valley—often the only chance they had to be alone.

"Of course." Bellamy bounded out of bed with his usual frenetic energy, pulled on the clothes he'd left in a messy heap on the floor, then bent down to kiss her cheek. "I'll see you later."

Clarke had only just fallen back asleep when there was a loud pounding on the door. She hardly had time to pull on her own clothes before Lila rushed in, holding a piece of bloodstained fabric against her forehead. "I hit my head on a stupid branch," she said by way of greeting. "And now it won't stop bleeding. Can you hurry up and do something? I'm wearing my favorite shirt."

By the time Clarke had finished with Lila's stitches—a process complicated by the girl's constant refrain of "if I have a scar, I'm going to kill you"—the Infirmary Cabin was filled with people who needed Clarke's help. It'd recently snowed for the first time, and the ice had proved a formidable new foe for the Colonists who'd grown up in space. Graham sprained his ankle coming back from the stream. A few of the kids who'd gone out early to collect firewood showed signs of frostbite.

Clarke's job was made extra difficult by the fact that all their water had frozen. "Don't look at me," Wells told her wearily. "Bellamy was supposed to heat it over the fire this morning. But I haven't seen him all day."

"Great. Maybe that was his surprise. Making my day as annoying as possible."

By the time the sun started to set, Clarke was practically delirious with exhaustion and frozen to the core. The thought of a cold hike up the hill suddenly seemed a lot less appealing than warming herself by the huge, merrily-crackling bonfire in the middle of the clearing. But she'd promised to meet Bellamy, so with a sigh, she wrapped herself in some extra layers and slipped away from the camp.