*click thru to read on ao3
written by: Emily | @prosciuttoe
prompt: ‘Post season three, Clarke decides she needs a haircut and asks Bellamy to help her.’ for anonymous
word count: 1533
In which a haircut helps Clarke realize that there are a lot of things that she needs to tell Bellamy.
There aren’t many things that Clarke misses about the Ark. She doesn’t miss the stale, recycled air that leaves her with a sour taste on her tongue; The relentless, enduring hum of the machines lasting through the night; the too-white walls that make her vision blur and her eyes sting after long shifts at the med bay.
The only thing she misses are the bathrooms.
Or, to be more specific, the private bathrooms attached to the apartments.
She yelps when the door slams open, the sound of wood striking metal jarring against the quiet of the room. Instinctively, she fumbles for the towel wrapped around her, hefting it higher.
There’s a beat where Bellamy, eclipsed by a halo of light and bearing an uncanny resemblance to one of the Greek gods that grace the covers of his tattered novels, just sort of stares, before it apparently dawns on him that she’s not exactly decent.
“Sorry,” he says, flushing. His voice is scratchy, and she has to repress the quick shiver that rushes up her spine. “Didn’t think anyone else would be in here at this time of night.”
“It’s a communal shower,” she deadpans, relaxing and flexing her hands by her sides. “I think it’s safe to assume that there’s always going to be someone in here. Even at three in the morning.”
He shrugs at that, the motion pulling his shirt distractingly tight around his shoulders. “I can come back later, if you want. Let you finish up.”
“It’s fine,” she insists, and it only strikes her then how true the words are. “I really don’t mind.”
The corners of his lips quirk up at that; the smallest of smiles. “Only if you’re sure, Princess. Wouldn’t want to interrupt your beautification routine.”