Authors Note: I had these stories posted here originally, before I took a mental health break from writing and deleted my old account. I kept these stories up on Ao3, but I've noticed on FFnet people seem to leave much ruder comments. I didn't really have any bad critiques, but there was a lot of people telling me I needed to write more, or seemingly dissatisfied with the endings. Comments like, "is that it?" Is not encouraging at all and quite honestly can ruin my mood for that whole day. I am getting back into writing fanfiction, because it is something I love and offers some form of community that I enjoy taking part it. That being said, I am never obligated to provide for you, and that moment that this stops being something I enjoy is the moment that I will start to question why I would continue to do it. I am leaving this note on all my old stories, because I will be updated more regularly (once to twice a week) and I'd really appreciate if I could avoid these comments in the future. I don't want to have to resort to not reading the comments at all for my own sanity. Thanks for taking the time to read my thoughts & I hope you can understand where I am coming from. xx Be kind.

Clarke drastically underestimates how difficult not kissing Bellamy would be after six years of not seeing Bellamy.

It's an unexpected dilemma, because it's not like she didn't want to kiss him before Praimfaya, but it was just a passing feeling then, a whisper she didn't quite catch, easy to misinterpret, and even easier to ignore.

Now it's like someone turned the volume up in her head and her conscious is yelling at her every time he's within four feet of her, which is now apparently ninety percent of the time. Not that they weren't drawn to each other like magnets before, but she's honestly forgotten what it felt like having him this close and it's a bit overwhelming how easily he fits himself into every part of her daily routine.

She wanted to kiss him when she first saw him, which wasn't a surprise, really. She'd probably kiss all of them if it wouldn't be weird and vaguely inappropriate.

Madi pointed him out right away and said, "He's one-hundred-and-one, right?"

Clarke didn't think her description of him was that accurate, but apparently Madi had been sneaking peeks at her sketch book and knew exactly what to look for.

"He has a beard," she says days after, like Clarke wasn't already aware of this, and in a way that doesn't sound like a compliment.

"It looks good on him," Clarke tells her, ducking her head when Bellamy glanced back at them again, like he's making sure she's really there. He never seems to want to let her out of his sight and Clarke's really trying to not let it get to her head.

"He's your favorite. You have to think that."

Clarke's face still feels hot hours later.

They get along about as well as she expects.

She's shy at first, but then he just ruffles her hair one day after correcting all the things Clarke had gotten wrong in her retelling of Greek myths with a smug, "Sorry, to break it to you kid."

Madi takes such offense she tells him he should shave that thing off of his face before it becomes sentient and tries to eat him.

Bellamy blinks at her and then at Clarke who nearly chokes and shrugs a bit helplessly, and he interprets that as an okay to throw dirt at her daughter's face.

It's a weird way to start a friendship, but it works.

Clarke isn't expecting to fall more in love with Bellamy after that. She didn't even think it was possible. After all this time, she'd nearly convinced herself most of what she felt for him was overly romanticized in her head. Before Praimfaya she'd never had a moment to let herself imagine what being with Bellamy would have been like, not even enough to realize she had fallen in love with him in the first place.

And then they were gone and all she had was time to think about it—memories replaying in her head, moments that could've been something, things she never said.

She's not fooling herself into thinking he could still want those things—if he ever did. She sees the way he looks Echo sometimes and how close they stand together when they're talking in the early mornings, before he catches Clarke watching them and pulls away, making her think she might be intruding on something private.

She'd almost forgotten what jealousy felt like. She never experienced it much before, even when he was sleeping his way through the girls at the dropship, but that was long before she knew she cared about who he was having sex with.

It's not just Echo though, it's all of them. They had years to get to know things about Bellamy she never did—what he might have been like if she met him before they were on the ground and everything was war and blood and death.

When it's bad she thinks she might hate them for it and then she hates herself for thinking it. It's not fair to anyone, but she doesn't know how to turn it off—that voice in her head telling her she doesn't belong and maybe she never did.

But then Bellamy just looks at her and smiles and warmth floods her chest and she wants to kiss him all over again.

Then he smiles at Madi which is somehow worse, because he absolutely adores her daughter and she thinks he'd make a good father, which leads to thinking about them falling in love, having a little Blake baby with his hair and freckles, maybe her eyes, and she just can't think those things. She can't she can't she can't.

So, she quickly excuses herself and takes to hiding out in the rover under the pretense of having a headache, or being tired, or whatever other flimsy excuse she can come up with that won't raise questions, or make Bellamy fuss over her wellbeing any more than usual.

She thinks she's doing a pretty good job leaving Bellamy clueless. She's good at hiding things, in a sense that no one's called her out on being weird and anti-social yet. Apart from Raven shaking her head and Madi rolling her eyes occasionally . . . everything is fine.

She is fine—dandy even.

That is until Bellamy catches her arm some late afternoon, where her sleeve has scrunched slightly, revealing the edge of something dark and vibrant peeking out on her exposed wrist.

"What's that?" he asks, curious, but not in a way that's an immediate cause for alarm.

It takes Clarke a few seconds longer than it should to respond, and when she does, all she comes up with is, "Huh?" Because—well Bellamy is touching her and she's having trouble not jumping into his arms and making out with him right there, even with Madi only a few paces behind them.

He raises a brow and cocks his head to the side. Her eyes shoot down to his mouth when his lips twitch a little, telling her he's amused, but trying not to rub her nose in it. When she looks back up, her cheeks are hot and she's thankful he's no longer staring at her face—that is until he trails his palm down her arm, pausing at the end of her sleeve, and she realizes all at once what he was asking about.

She jerks away from him so quick; his nails catch her skin, making her wince.

"It's nothing," she says fast, turning on her heel, looking around to find something to distract him with before he can ask her again.

But his eyebrows are raised high underneath the curls sticking to his forehead and his mouth is hanging open, so she knows it's too late. His interest is piqued.

Fuck.

"Doesn't seem like noth—"

"Sometimes nothing can seem like something, but it's still in fact nothing," she snaps and then gulps, looking at everything but him.

"Um—"

"Hurry up, Madi," she calls out, feeling a little guilty when she hears how sharp it sounds. Madi narrows her eyes up at her from where she's crouched on the ground, picking flowers. "Sorry, I just—it's going to be dark soon," she finishes lamely.

"Right," Madi says, still staring suspiciously. "These should help with your headaches," she adds, shoving them to Clarke's chest, giving her this pointed look that she's pretty sure she learned from Raven, which is just a whole new level of annoying.

Clarke clears her throat. "Oh, yes. Well—thanks."

"Uh-huh," she says, smiling at her a bit crookedly and wait—no, she's smirking.

Her daughter is smirking at her.

Clarke bristles.

"Just try not to take it all at once," she adds, turning her back to her and walking ahead of them.

"Who's the doctor here?"

"Not you," Madi says back and she definitely did not get that from her.

She huffs. "Really?" she says, shooting a glare at him. "You told her I wasn't a real doctor."

He at least has the decency to look a bit sheepish when he shrugs back at her. "I mean—you aren't though."

"Not helping!" Clarke clicks her tongue and makes an honest effort of walking ten steps ahead of him the rest of the way back to camp, while Bellamy follows behind in cool and careless strides, because his legs are longer and she kind of hates him for it.

She's also pretending to be more annoyed with him than she actually is in hopes of him forgetting about whatever he thinks he saw.

She'll have to thank Madi later, even if she can't explain why, although she thinks she may already know judging by the unimpressed looks she keeps sending her way.

Clarke gets a little too confident in her steps the closer they get to home and just barely misses a big, bulky tree root sticking up from the ground. She stumbles a bit, but Bellamy lunges forward to steady her before she falls flat on her ass.

"You good?" he asks low and far too close to her ear.

"Yeah," Clarke mumbles, folding her arms over her chest and moving out of his grasp as politely as possible. But she's not looking at him and she can feel Bellamy's hand tense on her shoulder before it drops to his side.

"Hey, Madi, why don't you go on ahead."

"What—"

Madi pauses, turning to face them. "Are you sure? Camp's a few minutes from here. I could fall into a ditch a die," she says dry.

Clarke opens her mouth to agree with her on principle, because she has firsthand experience nearly falling into a ditch and dying, and Madi knows this, but Bellamy speaks before she gets a chance.

"I think you'll manage," he says easy. "I just need to talk to your mom for a bit. We'll be back shortly," he adds. "Tell the others not to worry."

"Worrying is your favorite pastime," Madi says, a smug smile teasing her lips. "And Clarke's," she adds as an afterthought. "Everyone else is actually fun."

He laughs. "Yeah, remind me to tell Murphy and Emori not to corrupt you with their idea of fun."

"Too late," Madi singsongs, skipping backwards, before Clarke yells at her to watch where she's going and Madi rolls her eyes at that, but turns around anyways.

There's this awkward moment where neither of them say anything and Clarke debates running away, but that might be a bit juvenile for someone who's twenty-four and has a kid and really, she should try to be a little more mature about this.

They're both adults and yes, she has a crush, but she ought to be able to deal with it without behaving like a prepubescent teen, honestly.

"So, are you going to tell me what's going on with you?" Bellamy finally asks, breaking the silence first.

Clarke glares at him, digging her fingers into the sides of her arms. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Maturity; it's a real thing.

It's just a thing Clarke doesn't happen to have at the moment.

"Sure," Bellamy says, taking a step towards her, narrowing his eyes as Clarke reflexively takes a step back. "Okay, that, right there," he says, pointing at her feet accusingly, like they're their own separate entity and not to be trusted. "What's up with that?"

"What?"

"You're avoiding me."

"I'm standing right in front of you, Bellamy. We're alone. I'm not avoiding you," she lies.

He steps forward again and Clarke has to physically stop herself from putting more space between them, because she has a point to prove, but then he keeps walking towards her and she moves back just as much.

Screw her pride.

He folds his arm across his chest, mimicking her stance, although his definitely looks a lot more intimidating.

He raises a brow. "See? Avoiding."

"I'm sorry I'm better at understanding the concept of one's personal space," she snaps.

"You act like I'm carrying some deadly disease contagious by touch," he says, flat.

"What's your point?"

"I thought it was obvious."

"Well, clearly it isn't," she sniffs, nose in the air. "I don't see the problem."

"You're acting strange!" he snaps. "—and jumpy and since when are you opposed to me being near you, or touching you?"

Clarke swallows her gasp and Bellamy sighs, shaking his head. The tips of his ears turn pink.

He rubs the back of his neck. "I didn't mean like that—I just—I don't understand this attitude you have towards me lately. It was never a problem before. We we're always—you know—how we are, and now suddenly it's like you can't stand me breathing the same air as you. Did I do something wrong? Are you pissed at me?"

Clarke deflates a little. "No," she sighs defeated. You didn't do anything, Bell," she pauses. "Well, besides filling Madi's head with lies and misconceptions about my medical knowledge."

"I never said you didn't know what-"

"I am doctor for all intents and purposes. I was the—"

"Clarke . . ."

"—only doctor to a bunch of kids if you recall and I didn't hear—"

"You were a kid then."

"—any complaints. I probably saved your life more than—"

"Clarke—"

"Don't look at me like that! I did! You never would've cleaned you cuts on your own!"

"Seriously?"

"—most certainly would've died of some infection at some point if I didn't force you to take care of yourself."

"Oh my god."

"Like if I just let you do whatever the hell—"

"Clarke!"

"—damn well pleased! And I don't appreciate—"

"Would you just shut up for one minute!"

She huffs, opening and closing her mouth, still looking for something to say, just now realizing that Bellamy's much closer than he was a moment ago and they're both breathing heavily. His face is flushed. He glowers at her, until he squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply.

"Jesus, I couldn't even hear myself think."

"Well, I'm sorry for being—"

He holds his hand up to stop her and she grinds her teeth, but doesn't continue her thought and settles for glaring at his forehead instead.

"Okay," he says, breathing through his nose and then rubbing his palm over his face. He looks at her then, softer than before and she can't stop herself from melting under his gaze, blinking up at him. He studies her for a moment, eyes trailing over her form. She feels the heat rising to her face, unsure of what it is he's looking for, or what he sees when he looks at her at all.

"I'm sorry I told Madi you weren't a doctor. I didn't realize that was such a sore spot for you," he says soft and his lips do that twitchy thing again, making her hot all over, because he's teasing her.

She clears her throat and fumbles awkwardly with the sleeves of her Henley, unsure how to navigate the rest of the conversation now. It really wasn't a big deal and she may have been projecting her frustrations elsewhere, but she really can't tell him that, can she?

Well she could, but she won't, so— "Thanks," she mumbles, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. His eyes flash to her mouth and back up so quick she's convinced she imagined it.

He moves closer, cautious, like he's cornering a small animal. His thumb presses the skin of her wrist and he tugs her forward gently. Clarke stiffens and pulls back slightly, but his grip is firm.

For a small brief moment she thinks he might be the one to kiss her.

Her chest tightens and she holds her breath, but then he turns her palm over, sliding his thumb underneath her sleeve. She swallows and licks her lips, realizing this was his plan all along and she's bitter about being tricked.

Hi's eyes don't leave hers.

"It looked like a tattoo," he says, soft. She breaks their locked stare immediately, tugging her sleeve down over his thumb, but he still refuses to loosen his hold on her.

"It might be," she says, trying to appear indifferent, but she's sure her heart can be heard pattering in fucking space.

He ducks his head to catch her gaze again when she makes a poor attempt at hiding her face behind her hair and for the first time in six years, Clarke regrets cutting it.

"Can I see it?" he asks and she almost wants to say yes, but she huffs at him instead.

"If I wanted you to see it, you would have already." She scowls.

Bellamy's jaw ticks and he sighs, looking at the ground, then back up at her, more determined than before. "I thought—It looked like a word."

"So?"

"Did you do it yourself?"

"No, I had a friend," she says, rolling her eyes. "Oh wait, all my friends were either buried in a bunker or hiding out in space."

He narrows his eyes. "Don't be a dick. Madi might have—"

"Yes, I let my ten year old daughter give me a tattoo. Totally plausible, except she was four at the time, so it isn't—"

"Like I would know when—"

"—at all. You really think I would let—"

"Clarke—"

"—my kid draw—"

"You fixate on things."

"—skin, permanently? It's—"

"Fixate."

"–-stupidest idea I've ever heard! Do you think I'm stupid? You must."

"You're an asshole, you know?"

She rolls her eyes. "Can I have my arm back now?"

He frowns a bit, tilting his head and nudging her foot with his. "Please," he begs, and Clarke is seriously concerned with how less pathetic and more endearing she finds it. "I promise I won't make fun of your poor life choices."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, it must be pretty embarrassing for you to be this adamant on keeping it secret."

"It's not embarrassing! I'm not—don't you dare laugh at me! I'm not embarrassed, Bellamy Blake!" She stomps her foot.

He looks like he doesn't believe her, although that may just be a ploy to rile her up and she's ashamed to say it's working.

"So, why can't I see it then?"

"Because I—you know what? No. I really don't think I need to explain myself to you."

"You do if you want your arm back," he deadpans.

She scrunches her nose and tightens her lips, petulant as ever. "Why do you even care? What concern is it of yours?"

He rolls his eyes. "Jesus fucking Christ, you're the most stubborn woman I've ever met and that includes my sister."

"Well that's not going to make me—"

"Holy fuck, okay! It's just because—I thought—It looked like—shit," he groans, looking down at her wrist and then up at her. "I think I know what it says, all right?"

She gapes at him. "You do not!"

"It says, Princess, right? Or at least that's part of it."

She blinks at him, clenching her fist in his palm. "What makes you think there's more?"

"So, I'm right then?"

"I didn't say that."

"And there's definitely more to it than that, or you wouldn't be so fucking twitchy about it."

"I'm not twitchy! You're twitchy!"

"So, we're back to fixating then?"

"You and your stupid lips—always twitching!"

"Sorry—what about my lips?"

"You twitch! The corner of them—there! You're doing it now!"

"Look at my lips a lot, do you?"

Clarke promptly chokes on nothing.

They stare at each other for longer than two people should without blinking and then Bellamy slowly lifts the sleeve of shirt and for some stupid reason Clarke feels naked in front of him. She's so transparent; he's going to see right through her—or at least he will when he reads the rest of it.

He eyes her a bit warily, as if he still wants to wait for her permission, although she doesn't see what good it would do now.

"You're the most stubborn man I've ever met, just so you know."

He ducks his head, probably to hide his twitchy lips.

"Right."

"So, really you—"

"Clarke," he murmurs and it sounds so fond she nearly wants to die. His fingers trail across her skin, rough and warm against her pulse, tracing over the words enough times for her to lose count.

She shifts awkwardly in front of him, waiting for the laugh, or tease to follow, but he just looks so mesmerized.

She blinks at him, confused and curious of what's going through his mind, when all coherent thought abruptly leaves hers.

Her wrist is pressed to his lips and he kisses it soft—too long and not long enough—covering her palm with his own, resting it on his cheek.

Her breath catches when she sees the way he's looking her and she feels what he's feeling with every bone in her body.

Love.

"Why would you want to keep that from me?"

She swallows, cheeks radiating heat, heart pounding in her chest. She wonders if he can feel it against his jaw.

"I don't know," she tries, choking on her words. "I thought if you saw it you'd think—"

"Clarke."

"I just didn't want it to be weird. We've been separated by time and space for years, Bellamy! And you had everyone and I didn't expect—" She cuts herself off, all too aware of the tears falling down her face.

"Hey," he nudges her forehead with his, cupping her face in his hands, drying her cheeks with his fingers, but it's useless when more keep pouring out of her. She pulls back to look at him properly, but he keeps her close and she thinks his eyes are watery too, but maybe that's just her own bleary vision playing tricks on her.

"I get it okay," she concedes. "You had them and I had Madi—but sometimes that didn't feel like enough. I started forgetting things, wondering what was real and what I made up in my head. I drew you—all of you, so I wouldn't forget your faces, but your voice—I couldn't remember your voice and that killed me. And then my memories—I started remembering things differently, or I felt like was missing bits and pieces—small things, but it was enough to terrify me, because memories were all I had, Bell—just whispers of you to hold onto and it wasn't enough! I know I always seemed fearless and strong before like I knew what the hell I was doing—"

"You're the strongest person I know."

"But I didn't know how much it would hurt to lose you. How could I not know? We both lost so much and I didn't know and it broke me. I survived, but I felt dead and I think a piece of me did die," she cries. "I think I started dying the moment I killed Atom. Remember? He was the first—and then every time—someone else—I couldn't—"

"Woah, Clarke. Hey. Sweetheart, breathe—" he tugs her to him, pressing her palm against his chest.

"I radioed you—" she sobs into is collarbone, pulling him closer, gripping his shirt, until she feels it ripping. He stiffens beneath her grasp. "Did you know that? No, you couldn't possibly. But I did—every day and you were never there and I just needed a reminder that you actually existed, because I was so scared that maybe—maybe you—I wasn't—"

"Stop it," he says, unclasping her fingers around is neck. "Clarke, stop. Look at me—breathe."

And then her back is pressed to his front and they're leaning against a tree, sitting on the ground, with her in between his thighs. She's not sure how they got there, but his chest expanding slowly behind her and his palm is resting between her breasts. Her head hurts, but his fingers are gently stroking her scalp and it feels nice.

"That's it," he says into her hair, coaxing her to melt deeper into him. "Deep breaths, Clarke. You're okay." Her head drops back on his shoulder and his lips press to her ear. "Brave, Princess," he whispers, echoing the words on her skin, and that's when she realizes his shoulders are shaking, and she thinks maybe her cheeks are wet with more than just her own tears. "You're so brave, Clarke. I'm sorry you had to be. I'm sorry I left, but it's going to be okay now, huh? I'm here now and I promise I'm not going to leave you again—you, or Madi. I swear it, all right?"

She buries her nose in his neck and she feels like it might be an okay thing to do when she kisses him there. "Okay," she says and wants it to be more, but throat is sore and her chest aches, so she focuses on breathing like him—slow and steady.

"There you go. That's better, right?"

She nods against him and he brushes his lips to her hair, then her cheek. She kisses his neck again, because it seems unfair for her to get more than he does. She feels calmer now.

"You with me?"

"Yeah," she exhales and clears her throat, because her voice sounds harsh. "I'm here."

"Of course you are, Clarke. I'm never going to let you go again."

She stifles a weak laugh at that. "Seems like a lot of work. I have a pretty bad track record of disappearing, you know."

He sighs, relieved. "Jesus, you scared the shit out of me."

"Which time?"

"All of them. Every fucking time I'm with you, it's like you're trying to give me a heart attack. I'm old man now, Clarke. You might actually kill me."

"You're twenty-nine," she sniffs, rubbing her eyes.

"That's old," he deadpans. "I'll have you know I found a gray hair just this morning and I bet I'll have twenty more after today."

"Are you seriously guilt-tripping me right now?"

"Yes, I am. Being in love with you is seriously the most stressful, terrifyingly, horrible thing I've ever done in my entire life, and I helped my mom give birth once, so it's not like I don't have anything to compare it to—also ran for my life while getting spears thrown at me on multiple occasions, so there's that."

"Did you just—"

"Yeah," he says and she feels him hide his grin in her hair.

"You don't even know what I was going to ask."

"So you weren't about to ask if I just confessed my undying love for you?"

"Bellamy," she scolds.

"You don't have to say it back, or anything, but I really felt like I needed to put it out there in the universe before you literally do kill me. I have enough regrets to die with and I refuse to let that be one of them."

"You're not allowed to die," she says, tangling her fingers with his against her chest.

"Yeah and neither are you, but I'm pretty sure that's not going to stop you from risking your life and mine at some point in the near future. But just so you know, I do plan on fighting you on it, and I will be really fucking pissed if you actually get us killed someday."

"Bellamy, shut up for a minute."

"I don't take orders from—"

She turns and kisses him properly on the mouth. He jolts back, surprised, and she nearly breaks the kiss, laughing, but then he cups her face holding her there, prodding her lips with his tongue, swallowing her moan. He kisses her until she's out of air all over again and she has to pull away to gasp. He kisses her nose, then her cheek and jaw, pausing at her neck where he finds a spot he must like and sucks her skin into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth.

"I love you," she gasps.

"Oh, good. I was worried I misinterpreted you getting my words tattooed on wrist. That wasn't obvious, or anything."

"Jackass" She snorts and then, "Fuck, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"It did take you awhile, yeah."

"You just said it like a minute ago. Stop bragging."

"It's not my fault you were late."

"I was late? You were supposed to be here a year ago!"

"Yeah and you were late to the rocket six years before that!"

"Oh gee, I'm sorry I was little busy saving everyone—again."

"Now who's bragging?"

"I did get us a kid out of it, so I think I have a better excuse."

He huffs against her lips, "Okay, yeah. I'll give you that one."

"I thought so."

He pauses, pulling back to look at her. His lips are swollen and his hairs a mess, sticking up awkwardly to one side. She wants to kiss all the freckles on his face and tell him she loves the same amount. He's the best thing she's ever laid eyes on.

"You said us."

"What?" she asks, furrowing her brows.

"You said you got us a kid."

"Sorry, did you think Murphy was going to be the dad?"

He scowls, teasing, digging his finger into her hips. "Not everyone has a dad, you know . . . or a mom."

She grins. "Some have more than that."

He smiles fond. "Yeah, and then there's you." He nuzzles her cheek. "You've done good on your own. Have I mentioned you're an asshole?"

"Yes, I think I got that once, or twice," she sighs, rolling her hips into him. "We're partners, Bell. I didn't think having a kid would change that."

He groans into her neck, where she's sure she's going to have a hickey she'll have to explain to their daughter later. Her heart skips at the thought, because she's theirs and he's hers and Madi's. They belong together. "Good to know. I wouldn't want to start this relationship under false pretenses, or anything."

"God, you're such a jackass."

"Yes, but I'm your jackass."

She beams. "That does make it better."

"I thought it might. Can I kiss you again?"

"Please."

So he does, again and again and again.

By the time they do make it back to camp, they're both a mess and Clarke's pretty sure she has dirt on her face and tear tracks still on her cheeks. Her hair is most certainly a disaster, but Bellamy's is way worse. There's a leaf sticking out in the back that she picks off of him, before brushing her hands down his shoulder. He grins at her, kissing her cheek.

She hears Monty and Miller whooping by the fire and catches Harper high-fiving Emori. Murphy's cooking something that looks like it has two heads and Echo's nowhere to be seen. She thinks she might have to ask her boyfriend what happened between them later.

Raven's eyebrows are raised and she's giving them that same crooked smile Madi did earlier, so she also might have to start questioning her influence over their daughter.

She's the first to approach them, tapping her foot, fingers twitching on her hips.

"You're late," she says, petulant, glaring between them both.

Bellamy ruffles her hair and she scowls, slapping his hand away like it's an annoying mosquito that just won't die.

"We're you worried?" Bellamy asks, winking at her. "Because that's not what cool, fun people do, or so I'm told," he says, using air quotes way more than Clarke thinks is necessary to make his point.

"No," she says in way that sounds too defensive to be completely truthful. She flickers her eyes between him and Clarke. "You guys look gross. What the hell were you doing?"

Bellamy pales as much as his skin tone allows him to, eyes widening a hilarious amount. Clarke ducks her head to hide her smile.

"Ask your mom."

"I asked you first," she retorts.

"Yeah, I'm not touching that one," he insists. "Seriously, mom-a little help here."

Clarke bats her eyelashes and feigns innocence, "I'm much more interested in what you have to say."

Bellamy glares at her, then Madi, then at the ground.

Madi's eyes widen considerably before, "Oh. Oh. You guys had sex."

"What? No-I mean not-wait a minute."

"I guess that means Murphy and Raven won."

"Won what? Hey-Come back here. I'm talking to you!"

Madi rolls her eyes and bumps Raven on the shoulder, whispering something in her ear that makes her cackle.

"I'm not okay with this," Bellamy says, thin lipped.

"Not okay with what? Madi knowing we had sex, or everyone else knowing we had sex?"

"No, it's not that. Just-did you see how she just waltzed away from me when I was in the middle of processing that information-completely ignored me!"

"Bell-"

"She doesn't respect me."

"You threw dirt on her!"

"That's besides the point!"

"She's only known you for weeks," she pauses, thinking it over. "I'd say give it time, but she doesn't respect me much either and I've known her for six years."

"Well what are you going to do about it then?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you! You raised her!"

"You raised Octavia and you don't see me complaining!"

"Well, that's entirely different. She had to live under the floor, Clarke" he says, twitching his lips, shoulders shaking.

"You're fucking with me," she says, flat.

He grins and pokes her face, making her scrunch her nose at him. "Yeah, sorry. I couldn't help it."

"Jackass," she hisses between her teeth.

"Yeah, but I'm your-"

"It was cute once, don't push it," she snaps.

But being the jackass he very much is, he so does.

At least now she can kiss the smirk off his face whenever she wants, so yeah. It's totally worth it.