A/N: This is a continuation of my other story, "Calm The Storm."
Disclaimer: I don't own The 100.
A scream of "damnit" echoed through the camp.
Bellamy was still having his rants.
Everyone thought they would've stopped when Clarke came back, but damn, were they wrong.
They just got louder.
More angry.
When Clarke heard the screaming, she frowned as people continued to sleep.
Was this... Normal?
She slipped out of her cot, and followed the screams.
They led her to a familiar dark-haired figure, punching a tree and screaming his voice hoarse.
"Bellamy?" She asked, and he paused, stiffened, and brought his hands down to his sides. Blood dripped from his knuckles to the leaves below.
In fact, there was dried blood matting a pile of them together.
Clarke frowned.
"Clarke." Bellamy forced out through gritted teeth.
"You're destroying your knuckles." Clarke pointed out.
"Thanks for the observation, Princess." He spat, adding venom to the once-fond nickname.
Clarke's frown deepened, and she stepped forward, grabbing Bellamy's right wrist.
He flinched, but turned around and held his hand out.
"You have destroyed your knuckles, you idiot." Clarke glared. "Any more abusing the tree, and you won't be able to use them."
Bellamy laughed bitterly. "What do you care, Princess?" The venom returned to the nickname.
Clarke winced. "Trying to make sure the rest of us survive."
"Not all of us are." Bellamy muttered.
Clarke frowned. "What do you mean, Bellamy?"
"Nothing." He replied. "So, what's the diagnosis, Doc?" He asked.
Clarke rolled her eyes. "I'll need to wrap it. Put some salve on it, too." Now, she noticed Bellamy's staring.
"What?" She asked.
Bellamy silent. His eyes flicked across her face, and just when she was about to speak again, his lips swallowed her words.
She gasped as his bloody hands clutched at her cheeks.
As if they were his lifeline.
She felt an overwhelming surge of emotions as he yanked himself away, ending up on the other side of the clearing.
"Shit..." He was breathless, still catching his breath. "Shit. Shit, I'm so sorry, Clarke, I-"
"Why did you kiss me?" Clarke interrupted him.
"I..." Bellamy paused. "I... Love you, Clarke..."
"Why were you punching the tree?"
"I missed you. I was angry I had let you go, and that you had seemed so defeated... So hopeless. When you came back, you seemed more defeated and hopeless."
Clarle sighed. "Why... Do you think you're in love with me?"
"Think?" Bellamy stepped closer. "Clarke, I know. I love you, so fucking much. So much it fucking scares me." Bellamy's eyes watered. "I thought that the people that I loved and didn't- couldn't- protect died."
Clarke watched as tears made small rivers in the dust and grime on Bellamy's face.
"I thought I'd lose you, too. I fucking love you, Clarke."
"I- i love you, too."
Doubt flickered in Bellamy's eyes. "Then why did you leave?"
"I didn't want to see your face." Clarke whispered. "It would just remind me of the way I nearly got you killed."
"Can't kill me that easily, Princess." The nickname was now full of affection as Bellamy took her face in his hands and lifted it up.
Their eyes were teary, and Clarke opened her mouth to speak when Bellamy stopped them.
His lips were warm and soft, and felt like heaven.
She kissed him like he was the air that kept her alive, tasting lungfulls of Bellamy's lips.
His teeth pulled on her bottom lip, and she deepened the kiss, burying her fingers in the soft but matted curls of Bellamy's hair, and his hands clutched her hips desperately.
His tounge explored her mouth, trying to taste every inch of her.
She responded in kind, dragging her tounge around his mouth.
They pulled away for air, their foreheads resting on each other's.
"I love you, Bellamy Blake." She said.
"I love you, Clarke Griffin." Bellamy grinned tiredly.
"You need more sleep." Clarke said.
"Thanks for the observation, Princess."
A/N: I hope you liked it! Feedback is appreciated!
PEACE!