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All Work, No Play

Bellamy awakens, his eyes steadily adjusting to the muted light, surprised to find Clarke in the same position that she had fallen asleep in. Her arms are wrapped around his waist, and she snores gently into his shirt. He can't contain the smile that tugs at his lips; the brave princess, hero of her people, cuddled against him like a child. Oh, the irony. Moving gently, he releases himself from her grasp, but she doesn't even flinch. He rolls his eyes, tossing a quilt over her before slipping out of the room and heading to the kitchen.

The smell of food hangs thick in the air, beckoning Clarke to consciousness. As the grogginess dissipates, she realizes Bellamy is no longer beside her, but has wrapped a quilt around her. Just as she's about to follow the smell, the door opens and Bellamy enters, holding a tray. "Good morning?" She yawns as she straightens up, though she's not sure what time it is exactly.

"Close. It's 1pm. Oatmeal?" He sits at the end of the bed and sets the tray between them. Clarke takes the bowl, and they begin eating. He's surprised at how good it is, especially considering the way it looks. "So, how did you sleep?"

Clarke smiles and says, "fine", but it doesn't reach her eyes. Bellamy frowns, but decides not to hound her. "So, I was thinking we could go through the rooms, get the clothes and stuff that fit us, then organize the rest for whenever it clears up out there."

Bellamy grimaces, his body sore from the events of the past few days. "When exactly do you think that's gonna clear up? It destroyed everything. I think we have some time to organize and divvy out resources." Clarke's blue eyes shoot daggers at him, and he huffs. "Fine. I will help get the stuff we need together. But everything else can wait. You know what they say, Princess- all work and no play makes Clarke a dull girl."

Clarke cocks an eyebrow, almost challengingly. "Fine. We get our resources straight, and then we can have fun. Deal?"

Bellamy extends his hand. "Deal."

---

Clarke and Bellamy split up, attempting to finish the task more quickly. She blushes, recalling how forward he had been when she argued about how counter-productive separating was.

We should just look together, you don't know what clothes fit me.

Trust me, Princess, I can tell which clothes will fit you just fine.

Mouth gaping with embarrassment, Clarke had just turned on her heels and begun her search. Each room is uniformly the same, with matching furniture and bedding, but the closets are filled with a selection of clothes. Though simple, they aren't the tattered rags she's accustomed to finding on Earth; all of these seem relatively unworn, their tags still legible and threads intact. They seem to be men's clothes, and Clarke holds them up, trying to visualize them on Bellamy. She shrugs, tossing them over her shoulder and moving on.

After scouring the dorms, Clarke finds herself at the entrance of the last door. Her eyes widen in surprise as she pushes it open. This room is different. Very different. The utilitarian theme of the compound is replaced by a room with windows- no, screens that display different natural settings. A dial beside the entrance changes the displays, showing a range of different scenes, landscapes, and old landmarks. Clarke recognizes some of them from her Earth Studies books, and smiles to herself as she turns the dial. Lavish sunsets, gorgeous mountains and oceans- pre-bomb scenes that she wishes she could've seen with her own eyes before the world had ended again. In the corner sits a large bed, at least three times the size of the mattresses in the other rooms, covered in fine linens and huge, cloud-like pillows. As if the room wasn't posh enough, Clarke opens the closet door and her jaw hits the ground; it's the size of one of the regular rooms and filled with so many clothes that she doesn't know where to start.