#millamy fic

[raavenreyes]

gold and blue

Bellamy / Miller drabble.

1,075 words.

Content: Rated R – language, implied smut, mentions of underage drinking. / fluff, some angst. / MILLAMY.

Bellamy Blake was sure of three things: beauty, coldness and warmth.

He knew when things were beautiful, he knew when things were cold, and he knew when things were warm.

It may sound simple, but for someone who spent their entire life orbiting around a dead planet in a space station, it meant heaps more. He could always use those three concepts to judge a situation and deem it real or not real.

When he first met Nathan Miller, he found beauty. Miller glowed gold in bright light, blue in low light. He reflected the sun, the stars, and the moon in his eyes, skin and smile. Bellamy would find himself urging Miller to talk about something he really loved, like old world football or the concept of orbit just so he could watch Miller talk. He talked with his hands, fingers moving in intricate patterns to explain his words and Bellamy would sit there and smile, and be. Just be. The ark station would attempt to regulate physical and mental normality by producing artificial seasons—nothing ever too uncomfortable—but Bellamy’s favorite segment was winter. The metal walls would feel exceptionally cold, and it was the best feeling to bury himself under a mountain of blankets and sleep. When he reached the ground, his first thought about the area was that maybe he’d be able to finally experience a real winter.

“Two fucking weeks, Blake.” He turned back towards the drop ship, finding Nathan Miller at the edge of the entrance, feet hesitant to reach the ground. “Two fucking weeks.”

“Excuse me?”

He strode towards him with confidence, hands shoved in the pockets of his coat and beanie pulled low over his forehead. “In two weeks I had my review. I mean, I was pretty sure I was gonna be released but there’s still that low hanging thought of what if.” He shrugged. “Consider this an indirect thank you because my bones might have been rottin’ in the black in two weeks.”

“I had nothing to do with this.” Bellamy objected, hands on his hips.

“Yeah, alright pretty-boy. Your chest armor is on backwards.”

Miller didn’t speak to him again for two weeks, and then he came into Bellamy’s tent unannounced with a sad pile of dried meat and rationed oatmeal.

“Hey, shit, whoa—”

“Miller get the fuck out!”

“Beat it, Angelica.” Miller told the girl, who was busy scrambling for a piece of fabric to cover herself. Much to Bellamy’s surprise, she listened and high-tailed it out of his tent. “Alright.” Miller retrieved a lighter and sparked a piece of dried grass in the middle. “You gonna sing me happy birthday, Blake?”

“How do you know me?”

“You’re Bellamy Blake; Octavia talked a lot about you.” He answered. “Fine, don’t sing.”

They sat in silence, and Bellamy watched Miller eat his ‘cake’ hungrily. “What do you want with me?”

“Nothin’, I just think you’re interesting. You’re not a guard, you’re not a prisoner, so how did you get on board?”

“None of your business.”

“Well you’re awful jumpy, so I’m gonna assume you did some badass shit. I respect it.”

“Is there a reason why you interrupted me, something on fire? Something wrong?”

“No,”

“Then get the hell out of my tent, Miller.” Bellamy stood up and retrieved a pair of pants and a shirt, tugging them onto his body which had been steadily growing in size despite the rationing. He was getting more physical activity as of late, and his once weak body was welcoming the change.

“Did you leave someone up there?” The question sparked something in Bellamy’s heart. He kept his back to the other male, letting out a deep sigh.

“No.” The single word said multitudes. “Octavia’s all I have.” That gave Miller the answer he was looking for.

Nathan tugged off his beanie, sighing at the sensation of the cool night air against the sweat that had built on his scalp. “I left my Dad, and uh, my boyfriend. Bryan.” Finally, Bellamy turned around. “I don’t think I’m ever gonna see him again.”

Bellamy ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “You guys serious?”

“Depends on your definition. He’s all I’ve ever known. That might make it more serious than it is.” Bellamy nodded. “I might not see him again, but I see you. Every day. Morning. Noon. Night. Endless cycle of Bellamy Blake.” He cleared his throat. “It’s like every time I look up, there you are.” A heavy silence fell between them. “I always kinda thought you were a mosquito buzzing around my head because you’re kind of a dick but…uh, I see the way you protect Octavia and…” He looked away from Bellamy, pretending not to notice that the taller man had made his way towards him. “I feel like you’re maybe—like a moon, caught in my orbit or an asteroid and I’m just waitin’…waitin’ for you t’a…just, collide.”

Emotion swelled in his chest and Bellamy kneeled in front of him, staring into his eyes despite the fact that Miller was staring off to the side. “Miller…”

“You—You came down here so you wouldn’t be alone, so you wouldn’t—so Octavia wouldn’t be alone and I left…I’m alone. I left Bryan, I left my Dad. My mom died when I was little…I left them alone and now I’m alone.” Again, he cleared his throat, probably an attempt to keep tears at bay.

“Miller, you’re not alone.”

Finally, those deep brown eyes, reflecting earth damp with dew, glinting in the silver light of morning, made their way towards Bellamy’s—and they reminded Nathan of the way he took his coffee. Deep and dark with a dash of cream. “You think so Blake, you smart?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m smart.” He gave a half-cocked smile that made Miller laugh just as tears broke over his waterline.  “I think you’ll see Bryan again.”

“Yeah…me too.” He sighed. “Until then, uh…can I see you?”

“I thought I was a dick,”

“I mean, yeah, you are. But you’re also kinda hot, so I guess I’ll deal with it.” Miller shrugged and Bellamy leaned forward, winding his hand against the chest of Miller’s shirt and pressing his lips to his. He tasted like the cheap moonshine that Jasper had somehow concocted and everyone was gorging themselves on. Miller broke the kiss, forehead resting against Bellamy’s. “Thanks, dick head.”

“You’re welcome, asshat.”