Lost Love Found [ #Wattys2015 ] {Bellarke}

Stolen Kisses

Clarke's POV

Clarke was instructed to sit still and behave herself - an order that, not surprisingly, did not bode well with her stalwart personality.

She had protested all the way to the bathroom, telling Bellamy that she didn't need help, that she could fix her damn hands herself. After all, if there was one thing she hated more than anything else, it would be showing weakness.

Clarke didn't do vulnerability - vulnerability led to trust and trust led to betrayal.

"Bellamy -" she grumbled after he had set her down on the granite countertop. "I don't want your help."

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" He asked with a voice steeped in all seriousness.

He was bent over, rummaging through cabinets and drawers looking for supplies. Clarke was about to snap at him for aggravating a freshly bandaged wound when he suddenly stood up, holding medical provisions in his hands.

He set them on the counter beside Clarke. They were primitive at best and she wasn't familiar with any of the lotions or fauna. She picked up a bottle of a jarred substance, opened it and sniffed it experimentally.

"Holy sh - this stuff is disgusting," she said, wrinkling her nose and setting it back down. "This is what she dressed your wound with?"

"Yeah, I smelled like it too," Bellamy replied. He took her hands into his own, studying the scratches and deep gashes. By now, they were mostly crusted over with blood. She was almost embarrassed having him look at them. "Tell me again why you thought it would be a good idea to scale the side of a building?"

Clarke watched as he picked up a bottle of rubbing alcohol and poured the contents onto a clean rag. She waited until he actually began to clean the blood and dirt off her hands before replying - wanting a distraction from the pain.

"I told you, I was worried about you." Clarke murmured reluctantly.

Bellamy raised an eyebrow, but didn't look up at her.

"I never thought I would live to see the day," he began lightly; rubbing small, gentle circles across the tops of her hands. "After you sent me into Mount Weather, I assumed you didn't care whether I lived or died."

"That's bullshit and you know it." Clarke immediately spat.

"Really?" He asked, dropping the cloth onto the counter and reaching for a new one. "Because it didn't sound like bullshit at the time. All that love and weakness crap, you got that from Lexa didn't you?"

Clarke was silent.

"The Grounders don't understand that word, Clarke." Bellamy pointed out, continuing to clean her broken and dead skin. It was an odd feeling, having him touch her so delicately. Even when he had kissed her, he had been so incredibly gentle. However, from what Clarke had overheard from other girls, Bellamy was anything but gentle.

"There are different forms of love." She replied quietly.

He didn't say anything to that, but Clarke knew that he understood what she meant. She remembered all those times that he had fought by her side, stood up for her, argued and bickered with her. Bellamy helped her realize the meaning of compromise and what it meant to listen to one's people.

"You're going to have to rub harder than that if you actually want to clean the cuts." She told him, wanting to end the awkward silence.

"You sure about that?" He prodded.

"I helped my mom with plenty of - ow!" Clarke pulled her hand back in pain. He had done what she had told him to do, but she hadn't expected it right then. She scowled at him.