Chapter Text
Unfortunately, Jasper spilled the beans before they even got on the road, so Bellamy sulked for the first hour of the drive. It was only when Clarke flicked her blinker on and followed Maya’s car off the exit that he finally made a sound.
“What?” She asked, sparing a glance back towards him in the rearview.
“We’re stopping again?” He asked.
“Jasper has a small bladder,” she sighed. “I should’ve warned you.”
“It’s dinnertime anyways,” Wells added. “We should make this a food stop, too.”
“Weren’t we going to go to that diner in Bangor?” Miller asked. “I remember, their burgers were awesome.”
“Let’s just see what everybody else wants to do,” Clarke offered, pulling into the gas station. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel when she saw Bellamy’s smirk in the rearview. No doubt he was waiting to make some comment about her needing to mediate everything. What was she supposed to do, though? The one road trip she had decided to not make all the decisions for had ended with them stranded in the middle of Vermont, and Jasper being chased through the field by a herd of cows. Never again, she had vowed, though the way Bellamy was looking at her made her want to throw the keys at him, let him deal with her crazy friends for a change.
As they got out of the car, though, she resisted the urge, because nobody drove Jeanine except her. She could see Raven, Monty and Maya inside the gas station, no doubt waiting for Jasper. Not so subtly, Miller wandered in that direction, hands buried in his pants pockets, and Wells snorted.
"You really want to go there, Mr. Reyes?" Clarke taunted.
Wells just hooked an arm around her neck, pulling her head down so he could scruff up her hair. Shrieking, she pinched his middle, making him twist around, but he took her with him. As his feet got twisted, he let her go, and she stumbled back, straight into solid warmth. Hands came up to cup her elbows, steadying her.
"You okay?" Bellamy asked.
Clarke craned her head around, feeling her cheeks flush as she looked up at him. "Yeah, fine."
It took him a second to pull away, and he cleared his throat as he stepped back. "Yeah. Okay. I'm going to go inside and round them up."
Clarke barely got out a nod before Bellamy strode off. Wells whistled quietly, and without even looking, Clarke lightly smacked his chest.
"Don't," she warned.
"Whatever do you mean?" He teased.
"Just--don't."
Wells' grin faded. "You're serious about him, then."
"No," she said hastily, then paused. "I mean--I am serious about not getting involved with him."
"What? Why?"
"He's clearly going through something, and I'm not going to make it harder."
Raising his eyebrows, he waited for her to elaborate. After a minute of debate, she scrunched her face at him in defeat.
“Fine. I overheard him leaving a message for someone a few days ago--it wasn’t a happy conversation.”
“So?”
“It was for a girl. They obviously had a fight, a bad one, and he ran. Who knows if they’re even broken up? I’m not going to get in the middle of that. Not again.”
“It worked out with Raven.”
Clarke sighed. “That’s because it’s Raven. And me. We’re special like that.”
“Yeah, I know, picking firsts and all,” Well said with a smile and a softening gaze he flicked towards the convenience store.
“She’s going to pick you too, someday,” Clarke offered quietly.
“I’m not so sure of that,” he muttered, scuffing his shoe against the pockmarked tar. “I mean, the sex is good--”
Clarke cut him off with a shriek. “That is a brand new development. Wait, you guys are really? How did I miss this happening?”
“No idea,” he rasped, clearing this throat. “But yeah. We’re definitely--yeah, we’re doing that now.”
Clarke grinned. “Well, color me jealous.”
“Shut up,” he grumbled, and she laughed.
She was still laughing, and Wells was still pouting, when the rest of the group came back. Raven flicked a knowing glance at her, and Clarke couldn’t help but grin and raise her eyebrows.
“So, dinner,” Wells interrupted, clearly wanting to distract her. “Thoughts?”
“I could eat,” Jasper chimed.
“You always can eat,” Miller grumbled.
“Maya, you want to keep driving, or do you need a break?” Clarke cut in before more sniping occurred.
“I can keep going, at least for a bit.”
With a decisive nod, she fished her keys out of her pocket. “Then let’s hit the road.”
Bellamy was a bit more vocal on the second leg of their journey, mostly because Miller got him talking about a TV show they were both into. It always surprised her that Miller liked cop shows, given that his dad was police chief and he had a lot of opinions about the police. It was why he had become a doctor, having seen one too many of his father’s friends get sent to the hospital with life-threatening injuries. I want to actually save lives, not just protect them, he had said to her one night during their intern year when they had ended up sitting on the living room floor taking tequila shots after a week of hellish overnight shifts.
The radio suddenly decided to blare to life--Jeanine was getting up there in age, Clarke couldn’t deny it--and she grinned. Her favorite country station up here finally had come into range.
“Aw, no,” Wells groaned, his hand reaching for the dial.
Clarke slapped his hand away. “Don’t you dare!”
“Isn’t it a rule that the front seat passenger gets to pick the radio station?” Miller piped up in support of Wells, as they both shared a very strong hatred for country music.
“What type of rule is that?”
“I don’t know, the rule for practically every road trip and every car in existence.”
“My car, my rules.”
“My ears are bleeding, Clarke. Make it stop.”
“Let’s take a vote,” Wells suggested. “All in favor of changing the station?”
Clarke saw Wells’ hand shoot up, and she didn’t even have to look to know Miller’s was also sky-high. He groaned in defeat though, and she flicked a surprised look at Bellamy in the rearview.
“You like country?”
“Yes,” he replied, a smile in his voice.
“I’m surprised.”
“You keep assuming things about me, and you keep being wrong,” Bellamy replied. “Continue, though, please. I’m enjoying proving you wrong.”
“Jerk,” she muttered, but her the corners of her mouth tugged up into a smile.
Miller sighed heavily, and kept doing so every time the song changed, right up until they pulled into the parking lot of the diner he had talked nonstop about since they last time they traveled up this way.
“Aw yeah,” he cried, flinging his seatbelt off as Clarke put the car in park. “I’m getting, like, three of their oreo milkshakes.”
“Never say I don’t love you,” Clarke remarked dryly, getting out of the car.
“You don’t suck, Griffin. Just your music does.”
She flipped him off, but he was too busy pushing through the glass doors to respond.
“So is there something magical about these milkshakes?” Bellamy asked as he followed her to the table where Miller was sitting, already looking at a menu.
“Not in the least,” she murmured. “But he might stop speaking to me if he hears me saying that.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
Clarke buried her chin in her jacket collar so Bellamy wouldn’t see her smile.
The rest of their friends arrived in a burst of noise, with Jasper and Monty racing each other to the large table, jostling and hassling each other as only lifelong best friends could do.
“Suck it, Green,” Jasper gloated, slamming into the seat next to Wells. Clarke didn’t think it was a coincidence that he left the nearer seat to the aisle open for Monty, as it was right next to Miller. All things said--and disastrous explosions aside--Jasper was a pretty good wingman. “You owe me dinner.”
“Yeah, but you owe me for our Mario Kart tournament last month, so we’re even,” Monty replied with a grin.
“Shit,” Jasper muttered, dropping his chin atop his folded arms. “I forgot.”
Maya shook her head and dropped a kiss to his temple as she sat. When Raven finally seated herself, the lingering waitress ambled over, a tired smile on her face.
“What can I get you?”
Miller, of course, was the first one to blurt out his order, with the rest of them following in a slightly more collected manner. Clarke didn’t miss the spark in the waitress’s eyes when it was Bellamy’s turn, and her gut clenched at her interest.
“Nothing for me,” he replied, handing over the menu with a tight smile.
“You sure?” The woman chimed.
“I’m not hungry.”
Clarke turned her attention from the waitress to Bellamy, considering him carefully. He just looked from their server down to his hands in his lap, grimacing. She opened her mouth, but Wells knocked their knees together under the table as a warning. Frowning, she resisted making a comment, realizing he was probably worried about money.
Their food came, and the conversation died down as they all dug in. Bellamy seemed a bit more relaxed, playing with his drink straw while they ate, but Clarke made sure to only eat one half of her sliced-up burger.
“All set?” The waitress asked when she came back to clear their plates. “You want it wrapped up?”
“I’m full,” Clarke announced. “But if someone else wants it, go ahead.”
Bellamy stopped playing with the ice left in his glass.
“You want it?” She dared ask, nudging the plate towards him. “It’ll travel alright, if you want a snack later.”
His lips pursed, and for a second she was prepared for him to snap at her, but instead, he said, “Yeah, we’ll take it.”
He didn’t look at her while they paid for their meals, or while they walked back to the car, the styrofoam takeout box clutched tightly in his hands. Wells, being the obnoxious friend that he was, picked up on their interaction and darted for the backseat when they climbed into Jeanine.
“Figured I’d hogged shotgun enough,” he said mildly as Clarke jammed her keys into the ignition.
They followed Maya’s taillights back to the highway, and when they were again cruising along at a nice illegal speed, silence descended. She heard Miller pull out his music player at some point, and Wells started snoring about an hour later. The only sound from Bellamy was some absent humming to the twanging guitar playing through the speakers, though he stopped abruptly every time she moved her head even an inch in his direction.
“You didn’t have to take the leftovers, you know,” she said finally.
He grunted. “After you so obligingly sacrificed half your meal and went hungry, all for poor old me?”
“You got the old part right,” she grumbled. “You’re definitely more ornery than an old man. I should get you a broom to shake at people, and a lawn chair to sit in.”
“Well, she finally gets something right about me.”
She chanced a glance at him but the darkness obscured his expression. “How old are you, anyways?”
“That’s a little personal.”
“We live together. I’ve seen you with bedhead stumbling around looking for your glasses that you almost always step on and you’ve seen me come home in smelly scrubs with a stranger’s vomit in my hair. I’d say we’re close enough for personal.”
“Fine. I’m thirty-one.”
“Twenty-six,” she chimed. “I skipped a grade.”
“Jesus,” Bellamy muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“Put your broom away,” she replied dryly. “I’m not that much younger. Besides, mentally I’m older than that.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Better about what?”
Only the hum of the car engine answered her. The darkness pressed down around them as his weighted silence stretched, and Clarke pretended the sudden warmth in her cheeks was from the fiercely blowing heaters.
Bellamy stayed silent for a while, but then the squeak of styrofoam came from her right, making her smile.
“Good?” She asked when he let out a muffled approving groan at the food.
“Miller was right,” he mumbled, mouth full. “Best fucking burger I’ve ever had.”
Clarke kept smiling as they wove up the northern roads, headed for wilderness and starry skies. It was going to be a good weekend, she could feel it.
That night they ambled into the cabin with bleary eyes and stiff backs from so many hours of driving. Clarke didn’t even bother to flip more than the kitchen light on, her friends finding their way to beds from memory. She barely remembered to direct Bellamy to stay with Miller, Monty, and Wells--god, what was it with boys and loving bunk beds--before retreating to her own room with Raven.
She slept longer than she planned, waking when it was already bright out. As she ambled into the kitchen, she only shivered lightly, grateful that someone had dealt with the unpleasant ordeal of putting firewood into the stove.
Monty passed her a cup of coffee as she rounded into the kitchen, and she slipped him a fond smile.
“Who got groceries?” She asked, eyeing the fairly impressive breakfast spread on the rickety kitchen table.
“Maya,” Miller garbled through a mouth of eggs and bacon as Clarke pulled out her wallet, though Maya was shaking her head in denial of repayment. “She and Bellamy cooked.”
“She did most of it,” Bellamy said, turning around and nearly giving Clarke a heart attack because his hair was a nightmare of curls and he was wearing glasses and even after a month of living together, that sight would never not cause her to flush.
“Please,” Maya snorted. “I managed the bacon, mostly me stopping Jasper from eating it all before everyone else got up.”
“But bacon is the key dish,” he quipped back, smiling as he gestured at her with a spatula. “Not breakfast without bacon. My sister refuses to even eat in the morning if there’s not bacon.”
And just like that, his easy smile fell a bit, and he turned back to the stove without another word. Maya and Monty glanced at Clarke, who just shrugged, though she didn’t stop watching Bellamy’s broad back out of the corner of her eye. He was quiet the rest of the morning as a few of them prepared to go on a hike, though Clarke, Wells, and Raven were staying behind.
Raven was equally quiet sitting on the couch, glaring at Wells who was seated next to her and looking stubbornly back. He was definitely staying to keep Raven company--her leg injury from the accident last winter still wasn’t healed enough to go on a hike--and she was definitely pissed at him about it. Clarke debated getting involved, but it really wasn’t her can of worms to open.
Instead, she ignored them, settling onto the living room floor and pulling out a deck of cards once the rest of the group headed off. She started dealing onto the coffee table, though she had to start over when Bellamy sat down on the living room floor next to her.
“You stayed?” She asked, surprised at how he had gotten out of going. Maya was usually persistent with getting him involved in things, particularly things that were new or that he didn’t want to do.
“I told you, the outdoors are not really my style.”
Clarke resisted giving him a dubious look. She had seen him collecting firewood a little while ago though, his breath puffing white in the chilly air outside. It had been effortless for him, and he had even managed to unstick the shed door while he was out there. Even through the cabin window she had noticed how his muscles strained underneath his coat, ones she had seen in far too much detail whenever she ran into him coming out of the shower back at the house. By her view, he was most definitely suited to the outdoors.
“We’re playing Presidents,” she announced instead, scowling when he chuckled.
“So PC,” he teased. “Where I’m from, we just call it what it is.”
“Asshole?” Raven chimed in. “Well, that might get confusing, see, since that’s your na--”
She yelped as Wells pinched her, flicking his cheek with her finger in retaliation.
“It’s because we can’t swear around the children,” Clarke mock-whispered to Bellamy, smiling when Raven flipped her off and Wells frowned as he collected his cards.
Wells and Raven certainly got their revenge, dominating as president and vice for most of the rounds, something that would normally frustrate Clarke. Except--they were flirting about it, and not their normal snarky flirting. She had to put her cards in front of her mouth to hide her grin; the last thing she needed was them noticing her amusement and getting all weird about it.
“You know, I thought you’d be better at this,” Bellamy remarked at the end of another round, as Wells and Raven were distracted by coming up with ridiculous campaign names.
Clarke made a face, tugging the deck out of his hand to deal. His fingers were warm and rough like always. “I’m having an off day.”
“Bet you don’t have many of those.”
“I don’t, in fact.”
“Must be hard, being so perfect.”
Clarke glanced at him sharply, because there wasn’t enough levity in his tone for that to be a joke. He avoided her gaze, staring intently at his cards instead.
As she opened her mouth to answer, the door banged open and a ridiculously bundled-up and red-cheeked Jasper sang out, “We have returned from the war! Welcome home your brave soldiers, we valient men and women who have conquered the forests of Washington County!”
He stood there with a pleased grin on his face, arms splayed wide as the rest of the hikers filed in behind him, rolling their eyes. Maya yanked him back, reminding him not to track mud in the house.
“Anybody made a booze run?” Miller asked hurriedly, bouncing on his toes by the door, clearly having reached his tolerance limit for Jordan’s antics.
“Not yet,” she replied, then glanced at Bellamy. He was still rearranging his cards, their conversation apparently forgotten--or ignored, more likely. Sighing, she stood, pretending she didn’t seen Raven watching her carefully.
“Tag in?” She asked Monty as she passed him, handing over her cards. “I need to get out for a while.”
Stepping outside into the cool fall air didn’t help much though, because her thoughts still ran a mile a minute and her nerves still vibrated with unease. Bellamy flaring hot and cold with her was old news by now, and she should be used to it. The more he opened up though--he had been a history major in college, he was obsessed with dogs, he knew how to make an excellent margarita--the more she expected the prickliness to subside. Still, every once in awhile, he would throw out a jab or a cryptic comment, and it rattled her.
When she jammed the keys into the ignition, Miller threw her a look.
“I’m fine,” she muttered.
“Must have been a hell of a card game,” he replied dryly.
“Another word, and I’ll make sure Jasper is your pong partner tonight.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
“You suck.”
“Then again, I could set it up so Monty is your partner.”
She laughed when he groaned, and suddenly she felt a lot better as she pulled onto the dirt road that led to town.
It wasn’t even eleven o’clock, and they had already gone through almost the whole thirty-rack Clarke had bought, and that was even without Miller’s help. He just had to have his craft IPA. None of that Bud Light bullshit, he said with a grimace. It wasn’t a surprise they had made quick work of the alcohol though; there wasn’t much to do up north here this time of year, except to booze the night away.
Bellamy turned out to be very skilled at beer pong, much to Wells’ delight as his partner. Clarke and Raven were less thrilled, given their reigning title as pong queens was in severe danger of being stolen away.
“Re-rack,” Wells shouted tauntingly, hands cupped around his grinning mouth.
Clarke glared as she moved the final two cups into place. Wells missed on his turned--Raven cheered loudly, shimmying in celebration, something that made Wells smile as he took a sip of his drink--but Bellamy made his shot. Dragging the cup away, Clarke fished out the ball, flicking it twice to the side before bringing it up to throw.
“Elbows!”
Clarke scoffed at Bellamy’s refereeing. “Are you kidding me? It’s fine!”
“Elbows,” he repeated, his grin loose and cheeks red, tipsy as he was on beer and near victory.
With raised eyebrows and a pointed look, Clarke shuffled an inch back. Bellamy bobbed his head in acceptance, and she wasted no time lobbing the ball their way. Her hands shot up into the air when it landed in her target, bringing them down to three cups left.
“Don’t fuck it up, Raven!” Miller jeered from the couch, where he was sitting very close to Monty.
She rolled her eyes. “Can’t turn out worse than your face.”
Jasper echoed her jeering, growing louder when her shot made it in.
With a grin, Clarke bumped her hip against Raven’s in celebration, laughing and pulling her partner to her when she knocked her off balance a bit. As they steadied each other, giggling, Clarke heard Wells’ ball miss the shot--his skills really did decline fast when he got drunk--but Bellamy’s didn’t follow.
“What’s taking so long?” She drawled, turning back to their opponents with an impatient expression.
Instead of a smirking Bellamy, she founded a frowning one, phone pressed to his ear. His mouth pursed angrily, and then he left the room without even a second glance. Jasper and Miller both launched off the couch, eager to take his place. As Wells began to ask them for a one-minute summary of why they should be his new teammate, Clarke watched Bellamy walk outside, sneakers half-on and without a coat. She went to go follow him, to find out what was wrong, but Raven grabbed her arm.
“Oh no you don’t, partner. You’re not abandoning me.”
“I’ll be back in a second. Besides, it’s gonna take Wells forever to dec--”
At that moment, Jasper wobbled and knocked into the table, nearly sending all of the cups onto their sides, and Clarke sighed, knowing she had missed her window.
“Miller,” Wells exclaimed immediately, and Jasper whined but returned to the couch. Monty immediately pulled him into a game on his phone, and the two didn’t even watch as Clarke and Raven just managed to squeak out a victory.
Bellamy still wasn’t inside as they cleaned up, ready to play a more low-key game. As Raven sauntered over to shittalk-slash-flirt with Wells, Clarke saw her opportunity. Slipping towards the door, she shuffled her boots on and grabbed her own coat, as well as Bellamy’s before heading out the door.
Her breath turned grey-white in the chilly night air, and leaves crunched under her feet as she walked towards the dock, towards Bellamy’s shadowed silhouette. Just as she started to call out his name, he jerked the phone away from his ear and swore.
“Bellamy?”
She watched him tense, then glance over his shoulder scowling. “Does this godforsaken place have any fucking cell service?”
“Yeah,” she snapped, defensive as ever about her father’s favorite place. “About twenty yards in front of you. Why don’t you jump on in and try it out?”
“Some of us have responsibilities, princess,” he sneered. “Can’t always just skip off the grid on a whim.”
“Oh yes. As a doctor I have no idea about needing to be within reach at a moment’s notice.”
“You’re not working now!”
“Neither are you!”
“I wasn’t worried about work!”
“Then what?”
Her shout echoed over the water, refracting on the still surface, but his reply did not follow. He just sniffed, then rubbed his hand over his face. “None of your business.”
The lack of venom in his tone--the lack of any feeling at all, really--kept her from pushing for more; instead, she kept silent, watching him in the dark, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
“I just--there are people who need to get a hold of me.”
“People, or someone?”
He glanced at her appraisingly, a little bit wryly, as if he knew what she was asking. Then he shivered, and without hesitating, she rushed forward, handing over his coat hastily. With a thankful flex of his lips, he took it and put it on, fisting his hands inside his pockets immediately.
“My sister. My sister needs to get a hold of me.”
After another beat of silence--it seemed he wasn’t going to elaborate--Clarke stepped onto the dock herself, pushing past him to walk to the end. It was scary how relieved she was knowing that a sister, not a significant other, was at the heart of his constant tension. She closed her eyes, breathed in the crisp scent of pine that just barely overpowered the decaying scent of dying leaves, and said, “My dad liked it here in the summer, but he only really loved it in the fall.”
She smiled when she heard the creak of boards behind her, telling her Bellamy was drawing closer.
“Why?” He asked quietly when he was next to her, with none of the usual inquiries when she dropped the dad-past-tense on a stranger. It was a relief as much as it was telling; no doubt he had lost someone close to him too.
“The quiet. Mom used to tease him, because it’s not like Portland is a metropolis of any kind. ‘What do you need to come up into the colonial times for?’ she’d always ask. He’d just shrug and kiss her on the cheek, shaking his head, as if she’d never understand.”
“Do you? Understand?”
“No.” She felt him jerk his head towards her at that answer. “I don’t need to, though. It’s enough to be up here when he would’ve been the happiest.”
A loon’s cry echoed mournfully across the water, stopping her from saying more. Bellamy paused for a moment to listen, then shifted, as if deciding what to say next. He finally asked, “Is fall your favorite up here?”
“No,” she answered with a laugh, bending down to sit on the edge of the dock, legs crossed and feet tucked under her. “Definitely summer. A lot more to do, and taking the kayaks out are a blast.”
Bellamy settled next to her quickly, blowing on his hands for warmth. “What, no polar bear dips for you?”
“Hell no. Besides, I don’t want to set a precedent for everybody else. Treating frostbite is not how I want to spend my weekend off.”
“So much trust in your friends.”
She glanced at him dubiously, challengingly.
“Alright,” he chuckled. “Point taken. Jasper would freeze all of his extremities off.”
She laughed too, quietly, because the night was too still to do anything else. They stood there for another minute, not moving, not talking, and Clarke debated going back inside. Bellamy still radiated tension though, his shoulders too hunched and his jaw ticking as he clenched it. So instead, she lowered herself down onto the rough, slightly damp wood, letting out a grunt as she crossed her legs and scooted to the edge of the dock. She looked up at Bellamy and jerked her head at him to join her. Although his expression was dubious and his movements reluctant, he did sit right down next to her. His knee bumped hers as he moved up to the edge as well, forearms resting on his also crossed legs.
Clarke didn’t know when she started talking, but stories about her dad and this place suddenly poured out of her. She had kept them locked up for so long, behind sealed lips and a boarded-up heart, that once the dam broke, she couldn’t stop the flow from coming. Bellamy didn’t seem to mind though, keeping his hands busy by shredding pine needles and bits of pine cones with his large fingers before tossing or sprinkling them into the lakewater below. He’d ask a question here or there, let out a snort or a laugh when the story was funny.
When her memories finally ran out, she trailed off roughly, throat closing up. Anything left she had to tell him about Jake Griffin conjured up lingering smell of antiseptic that had burned into her nose while she sat in the hospital waiting room during the hours-long surgery that failed to save his life.
Warmth landed on her hand. She glanced over at Bellamy with watery eyes, giving him a weak smile when he squeezed her hand comfortingly.
“We should go inside,” he murmured.
He didn’t take his hand away for another few seconds, however. It was Clarke who finally, belatedly, nodded and then shifted to stand. They walked side by side back into the house, with leaves rustling softly under their feet. It was quiet when they entered. Their friends had obviously hit the sack a while ago. She sighed happily because someone had thankfully cleaned up from the partying. It would be nice to wake up tomorrow and not have the entire cabin smell like stale beer.
Bellamy followed her down the hall to their rooms. When he brushed past her to go into the bunk room, she inhaled sharply because the proximity of his warmth sent a shiver down her spine. So distracted, she didn’t quite realize the knob wasn’t turning in her hand, and she almost smacked her forehead on the still-closed door. Frowning, she jiggled the handle but quickly stopped when she heard rhythmic thumping coming from inside her and Raven’s room.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she laughed in exasperation under her breath. Sure, she was happy for Raven and Wells, but she really, really just wanted to go to bed.
“You too?”
She turned, seeing Bellamy walking back down the hall with pursed lips.
“Seriously?” she sighed. Then she gestured for him to follow her. Padding back into the living room, she started taking the cushions off the couch. “It’s a pullout. You can sleep here. I know we have sleeping bags somewhere that I can use.”
Bellamy stepped up beside her to help her jerk the stubborn mattress out. “We can share.”
“Really, I’ll be fine. There are sheets in the closet--”
“Clarke.”
She paused from smoothing out the mattress, looking up at Bellamy. “Alright,” she said quietly with a small smile. We can share.”
They didn’t say much else as they finished making up the bed and getting ready to sleep. Clarke wished she looked a little less ridiculous in her sleepwear, which consisted of thick baggy sweatpants, an oversized paint-stained hoodie, neon fuzzy socks, and her hair in a very messy bun. The cabin got cold at night, though, and she figured it would mean better sleep despite the less-than-attractive look she was sporting.
She tried not to stare at Bellamy as he got into bed, but he looked as good in his pajamas--which were really just grey sweatpants and a very loose t-shirt--here as he did at home. At home, though, she never got close enough to see how many holes were in the shirt or to realize how it was so thin that it really did nothing to stop his heat from seeping through and getting caught under the covers, warming her up instantly.
“Ready for lights off?” he rumbled.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her voice might not even work at this point, considering. He leaned over, reaching for the lamp on the side table, and then they were thrown into pitch black. The sofa bed creaked as he settled down next to her, pulling the blankets out of her grip a little bit.
“Night,” he murmured, turning on his side away from her.
It was a good thing, because then he couldn’t see her staring at his shadowy form in the dark. She was too tired to resist looking at him, the strong slope of his shoulders and the broad expanse of his back. Both seemed more relaxed now, though he still held himself carefully. He always held himself carefully, yet it didn’t seem like a natural state for him. Clarke only wished she knew how to help him let go of the weight he always seemed to be carrying. She would have to know what that weight was before she could help him, though, and Bellamy didn’t seem to be the least bit ready to share yet.
She could wait, though, for a while. She was stubborn like that.
When she woke in the morning, Bellamy was still sleeping. His head was close, turned towards her as he slept on his stomach. Clarke was on her back, and she nestled her head into the pillow to get a better look at him. They had managed to keep their personal space separate during the night. Once or twice she had felt their legs brush or his elbow bump hers in that hazy place between sleep and awake. This morning, however, they weren’t intertwined or tucked into one another though. It was a bit disappointing, but she shook it off because if that had been the case, she would’ve been too overcome with nerves and awkwardness to appreciate the way his face was so open and vulnerable in the pale morning light.
“Hey,” he finally murmured when his eyes fluttered open. “Morning.”
She turned on her side, hugging the blankets to her. “Morning.”
“Sleep good?” His voice was roughened by sleep, gravelly but soft.
“Yeah.”
“Better than a sleeping bag, I bet.”
She laughed softly, then flipped over when she heard a creak behind her.
Raven was standing there with raised eyebrows and a coffee mug hovering at her lips.
“Did we wake you two?” She asked lightly. Clarke resisted the urge to flip her off, because she could read so clearly the amusement in her dark eyes.
“Did you have a good night, Raven?” she responded too sweetly instead. “And did Wells?”
“He’s making breakfast,” she announced in refusal to rise to the bait. “You should get some before Jasper wakes up and inhales it all.”
As she hurried away, Clarke laughed after her.
“Are all your friends hooking up with each other?”
Clarke turned to grin at Bellamy. “Welcome to small town Maine.”
“We are officially the seventh and eighth wheels now, you know.”
“Wait--oh god, Monty and Miller? Finally?”
“I’m guessing that’s what the locked door meant,” he replied dryly.
“Oh, this was such a good weekend,” Clarke sighed, dropping back onto her pillow contentedly. She’d have to corner Miller later and get him to spill on how that had finally happened. He owed her, after she’d put up with his pining for ages now.
“It was.”
She jerked her glanced to Bellamy, who had turned on his side to face her. His tone had been heavy and sincere, and he was looking at her gratefully.
“Thanks, for inviting me. I had a really good time.”
“I’m glad you could come,” she responded with a smile. The one he gave her in return almost took her breath away. Her stomach jumped, and her pulse rushed, and before she could do something stupid, she climbed out of the bed. “I’ll get us coffee.”
She didn’t bother to see if he agreed, just stuck her feet into her slippers and darted for the kitchen. Just as she was about to cross the threshold, however, she started to turn around and called out, “Do you want anything in your--”
She paused when she faced him again, because he was lying on his back, looking at his phone and frowning. He hadn’t even heard her. His brow furrowed, pinching tighter the longer he stared at the screen. Exhaustion and tension lined his body once more, and Clarke sighed and continued on her way to get coffee, wondering if she should have done something stupid because it would’ve kept his thoughts here instead of whatever bad space they were in now.
The ride home was just as quiet as the journey up to the cabin. Wells and Miller both fell asleep soon after they hit the highway, the lazy flow of the fall afternoon lulling the whole car into a soft, pliant stillness.
Clarke tried not to watch Bellamy too much as she drove. It was hard though, because the flash of sunlight glinting off his phone every time he raised it up to check for service kept catching her eye.
Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. “Everything okay?”
“Fine.”
She grimaced, wishing they were alone. If they had been, she would push him, just a little bit. They were roommates, after all, and maybe now, after this weekend, friends. They weren’t alone, though, and she wasn’t about to rush this.
So instead, she dropped the subject, reaching for the radio. With the boys in the back asleep and unable to object, she went for country.
It took Bellamy a little while, but then there was his low murmur singing along to the song playing softly through the speakers. Clarke smiled, tapping her thumbs on the steering wheel to the beat.
His singing grew louder, and her smile grew wider. He was distracted, if only for the moment, but it was all she could give him and would have to be enough for now. Warming with contentment, she sped up a bit, and the red-orange-yellow of autumn trees passing by smudged further, a colorful blur beyond the windshield and windows.