since you're taking prompts, totally platonic spooning for bellarke?
this spiraled into a 4k fic of FEELINGS ok? and i’m not even the least bit sorry.
Bellamy starts sleeping with Clarke out of necessity, okay? It’s something that they both need, something that helps them get through the bad nights and serve as a reminder that there are still good things left out there in the world. There’s nothing like human comfort to drive the darkness out, and that’s something that they both accept.
(And if he likes the feel of her pressed against him in the tiny beds, the way her hair almost always finds itself in his mouth on mornings, her kitten snores, and everything else in between, well, that’s his own damn problem.)
The first time it happens is because Clarke fucking fainted in the middle of Arcadia, effectively taking at least ten years off his life and sending his heart into a sprint.
“I didn’t faint,” she grumbles, trying to shove her mother away as she comes near with the IV, “I just-”
“Fainted,” he says flatly. “Other words included pass out, lose consciousness, and blackout. There’s a vast majority of them, all of which say the same thing: you fucking fainted.”
She glares at him, and he replies with a glower of his own.
“Mom,” she says, turning her attention to Abby who is still trying valiantly to insert the port in her arm, “Tell Bellamy that I’m fine, please.”
“You’re not fine,” she says promptly, to which Clarke mumbles, “Traitor,” under her breath while Bellamy throws another glare at her and says, “I told you so.”
“You’re not fine, and you’re either going to sit here and take the saline for half an hour, or I keep you for observation for the rest of the day,” says Abby, pulling away to stare at her sternly, “Your pick.”
“I think she should do both, for the record,” interjects Bellamy, and Clarke aims a kick at his ankles.