Bellarke + forehead kisses sfw pls
itâs been 10 months and iâm sorry so pls enjoy this 5k fluff fest as i grovel for forgiveness.
5 times bellamy kisses clarkeâs forehead + 1 time he doesnât
Earth, heâs beginning to realise, is a bitch of a planet.
Everything on it tries to kill them. Sure, they were taught that the earth is a sometimes dangerous place back in Earth Skills on the Ark, but thereâs a difference between reading about unfavourable weather conditions and getting nailed in the head by a golf ball sized piece of hail. Or trying to avoid being eaten by animals. And plants. Because apparently even the goddamn plants have evolved to crave the taste of human flesh on this hellscape. Bellamy hates it. All of it.
âI think if we ration our tubers and limit meat to twice a week, we should be able to make it through the winter,â Clarke says, nibbling absentmindedly on a hangnail as she looks over their inventory list. âAssuming winter is fourteen weeks at most.â
âI wouldnât want to assume anything if I were you,â Bellamy says darkly, thinking off all the ways the earth could once again screw them over.
Theyâre in his tent, looking over supply numbers as they try to hash out just what they might need to stay alive for this winter, their very first one on earth. Theyâve been at it for hours, the sun long having set, and theyâre forced to work by candlelight. Bellamy finds himself squinting at Clarkeâs carefully made lists and calculations.
She sighs, rubbing at her neck. âI hate all of this uncertainty. All of our books on climate and weather patterns are from over a hundred years ago, and thatâs before a nuclear armageddon happened.â
Clarke looks defeated for the first time since theyâve started all this and Bellamy, despite himself, feels sorry for her. Theyâre not friends, not really, but they are co leaders and he depends on her like no other. So to see her like this, head hung long and purple bruises under her eyes from lack of sleep, worries him.
Sheâs worn herself thin trying to take care of all their people, him too, but Bellamy is a bit more adept at hiding it than she is. Sure, heâs exhausted and anyone who cares to study his face for two seconds might see a hint of it shining through, but Clarke looks like someone has wrung her dry.
âHow many hunting trips do you have scheduled between now and when you think we should close the gates?â he asks.
âIf we bump it up to every other day we should be able to collect some more meat. Maybe start laying some more traps a bit further out,â he tells her, looking over their weathered map thatâs spread across his table. âAlso maybe go back to the bunk and check out its surroundings when weâre not high.â
She worries her lip, glancing back down at their notes. âMaybe. But then weâd have to rework the hunting groups so no one gets too burnt out.â
âI think theyâll be fine upping from once a week to twice a week, princess,â he says and she rolls her eyes at him.
âIâm just saying. If theyâre tired, theyâll make more mistakes. And if they make more mistakes then thatâs more work for me.â
âA little work wonât kill you, princess,â he teases and she kicks him, biting back a smile.
âYouâre such a dick,â she says, but thereâs no heat behind it and itâs quickly followed by a yawn that she tries and fails to muffle.
âGo get some rest Clarke,â he says, pressing his shoulder into hers. âI can handle remaking the groups by myself. You look like youâre about to keel over.â
âNo, no, Iâm fine,â she promises, even after she tries to smother another yawn. âI donât want to leave you to do all the work on your own.â
Bellamy just rolls his eyes and letâs her stay because heâs long learnt that Clarke Griffin is stubborn. Sometimes he has to pick his battles and fighting with her about going to bed when theyâre both tired is a battle heâd gladly let her win.
Of course, heâs ultimately proven right when, just half an hour later, sheâs asleep, head pillowed on her bicep and mouth open a little bit as she snores softly.
It doesnât take long to redo the groups and he was looking forward to collapsing in bed when all of this was over, but now he has Clarke to deal with. He could wake her up and send her off to her own tent, but he saw the bags under her eyes, he knows just how tired she is and he canât find it in himself to wake her up, not when sheâs looking all peaceful like that.
So instead Bellamy sighs and scoops her up in his arms and deposits her in his own bed because despite everything, heâs a good guy and chivalryâs not dead, not yet anyway.
Itâs a testament to how exhausted she is that she doesnât even grumble when he lifts her up. He pulls off her shoes and hesitates for a second before taking off her outer jacket, and then tucks her into his bed, brushing a quick kiss against her forehead as he goes.
He doesnât realise what he did until heâs turned away, halfway through with getting undressed himself, when he freezes.
Back on the Ark, Octavia used to have a habit of falling asleep everywhere and Bellamy would be the one to pick her up and tuck her into his bed, always pressing a kiss to the centre of her forehead in goodnight. It was just a habit.
He glances over his shoulder at Clarke, who was still fast asleep and it makes him relax, just a little.
Itâs late and heâs tired and he chalks it up to muscle memory. It doesnât mean anything.
He keeps telling himself this as he settles on the hard packed dirt floor with nothing but a single blanket while Clarke hogs the bed up top.
It doesnât mean anything.
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