Chapter Text
"So Collins cheated on you?" Bellamy wondered, pouring her another glass of wine.
Clarke tried not to flinch too obviously and took a large sip from her glass, watching Bellamy grab himself a beer from the fridge. "I'm the other woman...or I was...I broke up with him."
"Does his girlfriend know?" He asked around a mouthful of ginger beef.
"I doubt it," Clarke muttered into her wine glass. "He's a sneaky piece of shit, it's honestly just dumb luck how I found out."
Bellamy snorted and shook his head, watching the blonde simmer. He had been surprised, not to mention irritated, when he'd been woken up so early on a Saturday-the only days he ever got to sleep in- only to find Clarke Griffin standing at his door with a twelve pack and a bottle of wine. The two of them weren't particularly civil toward each other, and they definitely didn't hang out alone. Ever. Granted, Bellamy had only ever known Clarke as his little sister's best friend and Finn's girlfriend, so he hadn't had the chance to get to know her as just Clarke. Maybe now that she wasn't with that loser they could be more than...whatever they were. And that's how Bellamy found himself embarrassingly wasted with none other than Clarke Griffin at one in the afternoon. They sat on his couch, her feet in his lap, watching some stupid black and white movie that he had stopped paying attention to somewhere between beer number something and beer number bad idea. Clarke's hair was beginning to fall out of the braid it had been in, framing her face in fly-away curls that shone gold in the sunlight filtering in through the curtains, her eyes were the bluest shade of blue...like comets, and her cheeks were flushed crimson from the bottle of wine she'd finished to herself. She was laughing at something he'd said, and it must have been funny, but he couldn't remember what...she had a great laugh.
"It's been a while since I've laughed like that." Clarke gasped, trying to catch her breath.
"Imagine that," Bellamy grinned, reaching over to tickle her stomach. "The Princess can have fun."
Clarke snorted, swatting his finger away with one hand, using the other to poke his side. "Says the grump!"
"I am not a grump." Bellamy protested with a chuckle as he dodged another attack from her fingers. "Now quit poking me."
She only laughed and tapped his nose with a delicate finger, lips twitching up into a challenging smirk. "Or what?"
"I'm warning you Princess." He grinned, catching her wrist as she lurched forward to attack him again.
Clarke simply raised her eyebrow as if daring him to retaliate, so he did. In one fluid motion Bellamy had Clarke pinned and was assaulting her with tickles before she even had time to blink. Under him, Clarke giggled and squirmed as she attempted to escape; Bellamy found himself wishing she'd never stop laughing for him.
"You done?" Bellamy asked breathlessly, peering down at Clarke through a mess of curls.
She was out of breath as well, her face flushed and her chest rising and falling rapidly as she smiled up at him. Bellamy wasn't sure if it was because of the alcohol or if it was the way that Clarke was looking at him, but without thinking, he closed the short distance between them and pressed his lips to hers. Clarke seemed to hesitate for a brief moment before she was kissing him back enthusiastically, pushing him up until they were both on their feet and Bellamy was clumsily leading her to his bedroom. Her hands were everywhere, burning his skin wherever she touched him, scorching him, and he couldn't get enough. Bellamy nearly blacked out when she nipped at his bottom lip as he lowered her onto his bed, and he chuckled into her neck as she fumbled with the tie on his sweatpants.