Bellarke One Shots

Lightning and Sparks (Part 1)

A/N: This story is about as fluffy as it gets, guys. Also there will be SEVERAL parts because this looked at lot shorter in the Word document and I don't want anyone to panic.  Be prepared and ENJOY! (Remember to comment and vote if you're enjoying it, too; comments are so adorable to read.)

 Clarke was mixing paints, struggling to find the color she was looking for, when the doorbell rang. Sighing, she dropped her brush and went to the door, opening it just enough for her to stick her head out. To her surprise, it was Bellamy Blake, one of her newer neighbors in the apartment building. "Oh, um, hi, Bellamy," she said, looking him and up and down in confusion as to why he was here.

"Hi, Clarke," he replied. His voice was tight, and she realized he looked frightened.

She opened the door more, putting her body comfortably between the door and the frame, and said with a touch of concern, "Is something wrong?"

He averted his eyes, embarrassed. "It's the...the lightning."

Lightning? Clarke hadn't even known it was raining. But sure enough, she could now detect the constant pitter-patter outside. She must've been too wrapped up in painting to notice.

A clap of thunder sounded and Bellamy flinched. "Are you...does it scare you?" she asked, realizing the cause of his discomfort. "The storm?"

He shuffled his feet. "I know it sounds stupid...." Then he swallowed, looked up. "Could I come inside?"

Clarke blinked. "What?" Sure, she liked Bellamy, and he was very easy on the eyes, but they hadn't spoken very often since he'd moved in a little while ago, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to be with Bellamy in her apartment...alone.

"I'm sorry, that was too forward," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm just used to my sister Octavia being here when there's a storm, but she's at dinner with her boyfriend Lincoln, and I remembered you were so nice to me, and I thought.... Sorry, it was stupid, I shouldn't have wasted your time."

"No, no, you're fine," Clarke said, suddenly touched at his description of her. She felt herself rethinking the decision to send him away, tallying up the pros and cons in her head, and finally stepped back, opening the door wide. "Come in, I don't see why you can't hang out for a little while."

Bellamy darted in like a puppy – he did have puppy eyes, Clarke thought absently – and Clarke immediately felt overly conscious of her painted-on clothes and messy hair, which was so tangled it was basically all dreadlocks. There was no way she was changing with Bellamy inside, though, so she just shut the door and took a few steps towards Bellamy.

An awkward silence ensued, broken only by Bellamy half-jumping at a flash of lightning. At this point, they both seemed to realize how awkward this would be. They didn't even know if they had common interests to talk about. As Clarke wondered if she should ask what Bellamy liked to do, he suddenly said, "Did you paint that?"

She looked up and saw the painting on its easel on the opposite side of the room, half-finished and in need of a lot of help. "Oh. Yeah, it's just a project I'm working on."

He walked right up to it, examining it with keen interest considering it was a work in progress. "It's incredible," he breathed, then inclined his head to her. "I didn't know you did art."

She stepped up beside him. "Wouldn't have expected you to; it's only been a few months since you moved in. We haven't gotten to know each other very well yet."