Bellarke One Shots

Lightning and Sparks (Part 2)

A/N: Whoooooo more fluff. Also sorry this one's a bit shorter than the other one; I considered editing it so it would be even but it didn't flow right (which is why people may get six different 'Tate updated Bellarke One Shots' sorry) SO this one's shorter. More to come later. Now read it!!! (And of course comment and vote because that's always so nice.)

            A long while later, Clarke realized she didn't hear lightning or thunder anymore, and the comforting tapping of rain had ceased. The storm had stopped, and that meant it was probably time for Bellamy to go home, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to mention it. After this episode, she thought, but she knew she would just find another excuse after that. As weird as it was to want a near-stranger to hang around her house doing nothing more than binge-watching TV with his shoulder against hers, she wanted it. She wanted to laugh at him when he mildly fangirled over an Olicity moment, and flinch against him when something jumped out on the screen, and pretend not to notice when their fingers touched on the laptop keyboard.

Despite the long hours, neither one fell asleep, though they did a little bit of nodding off. The first time Clarke opened her eyes to realize she had snuggled into Bellamy's side with her head against his shoulder, she nearly jumped right to her feet, but after four more times of the same thing – her body was apparently way more tired than her mind – she decided to stop caring. After all, Bellamy had nodded off plenty, too, with his head falling on top of hers half the time.

At one point, though, Bellamy sighed dejectedly and said, "So, Princess."

"Hey, what'd I say about calling me a princess?" she said, nudging his shoulder, but she didn't actually mind; in fact, the name had begun to grow on her, probably because of the way he said it—not derogatorily, not sarcastic, but soft, like he actually believed she was royalty.

"Oh, you know you love it admit it," he said, grinning, then his face abruptly went back to the sullen expression he'd worn moments before. "You might want to look outside."

She raised an eyebrow and looked outside, only to feel her whole face widen with surprise. The sun was up—not rising, not inching through, but up. Completely. She must not have noticed because they left the light on when they started watching. Mentally she did the math—he'd first arrived at her door at maybe seven o'clock at night, when the sun was in the middle of its descent, and now it was maybe...eight am? That meant he'd been at her house, hanging out with her, for thirteen hours.

There were a lot of reactions Clarke had to that little fact, but the first thing that came out of her mouth was, "But I don't even feel tired anymore."

"Me either," Bellamy said slowly. The way he said it made her feel sad, somehow. He sighed again. "I should probably head out; the storm's cleared and I'm sure we both have something we're supposed to do on a Wednesday morning."

She leaned her head against the back of the wall. "Yeah, you probably should." Then she turned her head to him a little, smirking. "Unless you'd like to watch me paint."

"Lovely offer, but I must decline, Princess," he said, standing. Her side abruptly felt absent and cold, and she found she wasn't particularly happy with the current space of a few feet between them.

She stood. "I'll show you out. It's not like I have far to walk, since you're just across the hall."

"Sounds good, Princess," he said, and gestured to the door.

They left their (considerable) mess as it was, they left the apartment – Clarke wasn't sure her feet had ever dragged so much in her life – and walked down to Bellamy's. At the door, however, both of them stalled, unsure when and how to say goodbye after the considerable experience they'd just gone through together. Bellamy looked down and kicked at the ground with his feet, just as he had done when he first arrived, and Clarke rocked back and forth on her heels slightly, begging her brain to think of something, anything, to say to him. But nothing came out, and the silence extended.

"Thank you," Bellamy said quietly after a minute longer. "For letting me come inside."

"Yeah, of course," Clarke said. Though she'd been so unsure about it at first, now the idea of making Bellamy leave and spending the rest of her night painting alone seemed absurd. "I had fun."

"So did I."

"Are you feeling better about thunder storms then?" she grinned.

He smirked. "Yeah. In fact, I can't wait for the next one."

Clarke blushed and found herself mumbling, "Neither can I."

For a moment Bellamy grinned widely at her, but then he shuffled slightly, seeming uncomfortable or nervous, or something. "Can I grab a hug?"

She didn't even bother replying before slipping her arms around his neck, gripping his shoulder blades tightly. He reciprocated, securing her body tightly inside his arms. It was the sort of hug that melted Clarke's insides, and she wanted to do anything except let go.

"Clarke," Bellamy murmured, soft and low, and she actually shivered. No matter how much she liked his new nickname for her, the way he said her real name was something else entirely.

"Bellamy," she replied quietly, settling her face into the crook of his neck.

At last, he loosened his grip on her, but it still took Clarke a long few seconds before she had the strength to disengage. When she did, her eyes found Bellamy's immediately, and they spent the next few moments just gazing at each other. Clarke expected it to be awkward, but somehow it wasn't, because she got the idea Bellamy was just as content to look at her as she was to look at him.

Bellamy's expression changed just slightly as he watched her, and he leaned forward, his hand touching her arm. Clarke froze, completely unsure what he was doing and how she would react, when his lips pressed against her cheek. Her face immediately enflamed and before she had the chance to do even think of a good reaction, he pulled back.

"Um—" Clarke said, completely bewildered and now much less willing to let him walk inside his apartment.

"Thanks again," Bellamy said, looking highly amused. "See you soon, all right?" He squeezed her arm and, without another word, walked inside.

"See you soon," Clarke echoed, thegrin on her face now apparently permanent. As she turned to go back to her ownapartment, she inwardly prayed for the next day to have a 100% chance of thunderstorms.Or, in other words, 100% chance of Bellamy Blake.