Heaven Can't Wait - Chapter 48
14 Feb 2022 11:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jennickels
Chapter Forty-Eight - Real Smooth
Monty joins Bellamy against the wall, both sliding to the ground. Bellamy’s head is pounding, and he’s still blinking around random blobs of color seared into his vision from the explosion. He rubs his eyes violently, but that just makes the headache worse.
“That was-” Monty says, voice weak.
“Yeah.” Bellamy glances over. Monty has his hands tucked under his arms, face scrunched in obvious pain. Bellamy bumps his shoulder. “You okay.”
“I’ll be fine.” The grimace Monty tries to hide says otherwise.
Bellamy forces himself to his feet again and hauls Monty up. “You need to get checked out in Medbay or I’ll never hear the end of it from Harper.”
Monty snorts. “She’s not the boss of me.”
Bellamy just stares at him until Monty cracks up. There are tears in his eyes that might be from relief or exhaustion or pain. Probably all three. “Well, Clarke will be mad, too, and she is the boss of me, and I don’t want to get yelled at.”
His face burns at the admission, but Monty doesn’t seem to notice. Because it’s not a surprise to anyone except you. And maybe Clarke, apparently.
They pick up their gear and limp through the station as it shudders with the force of the storm outside.
“You think we’re going to make it?” Monty asks softly.
“Well, we got through this hurdle.”
“Yeah, but-”
“Monty, the one thing I’ve learned since coming to the ground-” He smiles over at his friend. “-Is that anything is possible. And if it’s impossible then put Raven Reyes on the problem, and she’ll save our asses anyway.”
Monty laughs but doesn’t look any less anxious. Bellamy stops him just before Medbay. “We’ll get through this. We’ve survived everything else this planet has thrown at us, why not another nuclear apocalypse.”
“I guess.”
Medbay is busy—they’re almost barreled over by a nurse as soon as they walk in. She barely acknowledges them before scurrying off.
“What’s going on?” Bellamy asks Jackson who is tending to a Guard with a nasty bump on his forehead.
Jackson glances over then looks around. “Mostly minor injuries from the power fluctuations—burns and cuts from exploding light bulbs. Other various bumps and bruises from people running into each other in the dark.” His jaw sets tight as he finishes with the Guard who just nods at Bellamy before leaving.
“What?” Bellamy asks.
Jackson seems to debate himself internally for several seconds before he sighs. He checks to see where Abby is then leans over while he cleans up from the patient. “We’ve had several people come in claiming they were attacked during the blackout.”
Bellamy frowns. “Okay. That’s something I need to know so-”
“The thing is—the wounds don’t add up. They said they were jumped by Grounders, but their injuries were fairly mild for the kind of attack they described with a few well placed but mostly harmless cuts and bruises.”
Bellamy’s frown grows.
“Like they got a friend to smack them around just enough to look convincing?” Monty asks.
Jackson nods. “At least to a cursory glance.”
“But not for a doctor. Got it.” Bellamy pinches the bridge of his nose. “Send me a list of the ‘victims.’ I’ll look into it.” Across the room, he sees Clarke helping an elderly patient. His heart leaps into his throat. It takes him a second to push it back where it belongs.
He leaves Monty with Jackson, approaching Clarke slowly as she finishes with the woman.
“Hey,” he tries to say smoothly, but it comes out much more raspy than intended, getting her instant attention.
She grabs his face and turns it gently side to side. “Hey, are you okay? What happened out there? Are you hurt?”
Bellamy’s more than a little surprised at her intensity—he’s come to depend on Clarke’s unflappable demeanor. He places his hands over hers, rubbing little circles with his thumbs. “I’m fine. Monty got the brunt of it.”
Her eyes trace over his face then move to his hands, brows furrowing. She’s noticed the cuts and blood there. He shoves them under his arms with a shrug. “Really, I’m fine.”
Clarke clucks. The same way his mother always did when she was fretting over one of them. It’s weirdly endearing. “You’re not fine. Why do you always do this?”
He sighs as she pries his hands free so she can do her doctor thing while she chastises him. He lets her words wash over him, relishing in the meaning underneath them—she cares.
She loves you, dummy.
His face flushes at the thought, and he quickly ducks his head, hoping she didn’t notice. When she’s done bandaging his wounds, she kisses each bit of exposed skin on his hands, up his arms to his neck. His body trembles with each light touch until he notices one of the nurses snickering across the room.
“Clarke,” he says, pulling her away with more effort than it should take. He’s not sure if it’s reluctance to stop on her behalf or his. Maybe both.
She bites her lips, trying to hide her smile. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were such a prude.” She bats those eyelashes coyly.
Bellamy ripples with indignity and not a little lust. “I’m not a prude. I just don’t think now is the time to announce to the world that we’re-” He motions between them. “Whatever this is.”
She continues to smile as she cleans her instruments and tidies her tray. “And what are we?”
Is she playing games? Or maybe she’s as confused as me? He’s not sure which, so he decides to play it cool.
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“Smooth,” Murphy says, hopping onto the exam table beside Bellamy. “Real smooth.”
Clarke bursts out laughing at Bellamy’s sullen expression.
Murphy looks like hell—soaking wet, pockmarked with acid burns from the rain, and smelling faintly of singed fabric and hair. Bellamy’s annoyance instantly changes to concern which makes him wonder when he started caring about John Murphy of all people.
“You okay?”
Clarke is already pulling out sterile bandages and wipes, brow once again knit in concentration. Murphy shrugs.
“I’m alive so all things considered-” He shrugs.
Bellamy shakes his head. Selfless isn’t a word he would normally use to describe Murphy.
“Hey, don’t get any ideas now,” Murphy says. “I did this for Emori—so she’ll have a safe place to wait out this next apocalypse. The rest of you can go to Hell.”
Clarke snorts, but there’s a twinkle of amusement in her eyes when she glances up at them—one matched in Murphy’s lazy half-grin. Bellamy can’t help but laugh. How did we get here? Where we can all be friends after everything we’ve been through? He’s not sure he cares, he’s just glad they’re both okay—that all of his friends are okay.
“I should go,” he says, squeezing Clarke’s arm. Murphy waggles his eyebrows and smiles mischievously. Bellamy shoves his face away getting a hiss of pain from the younger man that makes them all laugh.
He’s three steps away when Clarke runs up next to him. “So-” she says, lips caught between her teeth again. He really doesn’t know what to think of insecure Clarke. It takes her a moment before she commits to whatever she wants to say then looks at him with such open, loving eyes. “I know we were both too busy last night, but you’re coming back over again tonight, right?”
Just like that, his heart is in his throat, and all his blood has drained south. He swallows hard, hoping no one notices his head spinning with glee. Play it cool, the voice screams, but when he tries to speak, his voice cracks. “Yeah, of course,” he mumbles after clearing his throat. “I’d like that—if that’s what you want.”
Oh, my god, I’m an idiot.
Clarke just giggles as she slips a scrap of paper into his palm. “That’s the code to the door. Just come by whenever you’re done with work. I have no idea how long I’ll be here so-”
She kisses his cheek then speeds off to finish tending to Murphy. There’s a bounce in her step that shouldn’t be there considering the weight of the world is on her shoulders most of the time. It makes him smile. But when he turns to leave, Abby is standing in front of him in full mother-hen mode. Crap, did she just see that?
“When was the last time you ate?” She asks, tilting his head up to shine a penlight into his eyes.
He brushes her hands away—not in the mood for her fussing. “I’m fine.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He steps away, heading closer to the exit, sure he can hear Clarke and Murphy laughing at him. Abby follows on his heels right out the door.
“Let me put it like this, Bellamy—I’ll pretend I didn’t just hear what I heard between you and my daughter if you answer my very reasonable medical questions about your health. Deal?”
Bellamy groans, head hanging. She’s good. Really good.
