Prompt: Bellarke fluffy "Why haven't you kissed me before?"
Whenever things got to be too much, Clarke would bake. The repetitive measuring and mixing always calmed her down, and she got pretty good at it. Now her friends would look forward to the worst weeks of med school because it meant they were ensured a constant stream of cupcakes, cookies, and pies. It indulged both sides of her brain— the precise, exacting medical student and the creative, free flowing artist, working in perfect harmony for once.
She was halfway into a chocolate espresso cheesecake when Bellamy walked in. “I didn’t know you had a test this week,” he observed, pocketing the key she’d given him after she got sick of having to interrupt whatever she was doing to buzz him in.
“I didn’t. This is just general life stress,” she said, adding an egg and turning on her mixer.
“What’s wrong?” Bellamy helped himself to a handful of chocolate chips that she had sitting out.
“Stop it, those are the garnish,” she said, slapping his hand away. “And it’s…nothing, really.”
Nothing really meant I realized I’m in love with you and you clearly don’t feel the same way but Clarke wasn’t about to say that out loud. She checked the recipe and tipped her chin towards the ground espresso near his elbow. Bellamy handed it over and she measured it out before dumping it into her turquoise Kitchenaid. “Hey, what is it?” Bellamy said gently.
Of course he would notice. He notices everything about me except for the one big thing, and the fact that he doesn’t see it tells me everything I need to know. “Nothing.” Clarke moved the lever to stir and wiped her hands on her apron. Bellamy was the one who had given it to her last Christmas along with an old plaid shirt of his, because he felt it was important that she have a smock for painting and an apron for baking, instead of her old method which was “whatever she happened to be wearing at the time, crossed fingers, and a lot of stain remover.”
“Clarke, whatever it is— you can tell me,” he said, and he turned her to face him.
His eyes were soft and searching, and honestly, it hurt. It hurt to be this close to him and not have him, so Clarke did something insanely reckless. Something that could jeopardize their friendship; something that would change things between them forever.
She kissed him.
She just rolled up on her toes and planted her mouth on his and then stepped back, bracing for the fallout and the inevitable I’m sorry, I just don’t see you that way.
But instead, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her back. Clarke groped out blindly and switched off the mixer, letting him press her into the countertop. She lost track of time, her in her apron and him in his Georgetown hoodie, kissing in her kitchen that smelled like vanilla.
Bellamy’s lips were swollen when they finally came up for air. “Why haven’t you kissed me before?” he asked with wonder in his voice.
Clarke ran her fingers through his now-rumpled hair and smiled. “I honestly have no idea.”