A/N: from a tumblr prompt: Don't you dare walk away' And 'Why don't you make me?'

this is unbeta'd so like, please don't kill me for typos ;P

"What we'll need," Kane summarizes, "is someone to lead the mission into Ice Nation territory."

He, Abby, Clarke, Bellamy, and a few others are crowded around a table in the meeting room inside Arkadia, discussing plans to journey into the Ice Nation. Considering the precarious nature of the unspoken truce following the destruction of ALIE, if even one thing goes wrong on this trip, it's over— and in this respect, it's something akin to a suicide mission.

So naturally, there's no hesitation on Bellamy's part at all when he replies, "I'll do it."

And that pisses Clarke right off.

"Bellamy—" she starts immediately, at the same time that Kane speaks.

"Are you sure?" he asks Bellamy. Clarke knows that Kane was thinking to delegate this job to someone who's not standing around this table, someone who's not considered indispensable. "We've been over this. The mission will be dangerous—"

"I'm sure," Bellamy cuts him off, still staring hard down at the Ice Nation map that's laid out on the table.

Kane doesn't look too happy with that answer, but he looks ready to let it go. Clarke's not.

"I'm coming with you," she says at once, and her mother gives her a very sharp look.

"Absolutely not, Clarke. This mission is too dangerous." There's a note of finality in Abby's voice, but Clarke doesn't care. She's not letting Bellamy go alone. Not to a territory who's leader Bellamy shot.

Clarke matches her mother's glare. "I don't care what you say, I'm going with hi— with them." And you can't stop me.

There's a terse silence, but then Bellamy speaks, slow and measured.

"Your mom's right," he says, and Clarke feels her jaw drop open. Not that she's surprised to meet resistance from him; this is indignation. "It's too dangerous."

"And yet you're still going," she points out, feeling her fingers clutch too tightly onto the metal table. "So why not me, too?" There's a challenge in her voice and she doesn't care.

Bellamy still isn't looking at her, but his mouth flattens into a thin line. "You're needed here," he replies, "in medical. You know that."

Clarke narrows her eyes at him, but he remains perfectly stoic. She has to admit he's got her there— Clarke and Abby and the other medical personnel have been swamped with the sheer numbers of people needing help because their bodies had been neglected so thoroughly while they were being used by ALIE.

Abby nods rapidly, seemingly grateful that Bellamy has given a perfectly logical reason that Clarke needs to stay behind, although Clarke knows for certain that his real reasons for wanting her to stay are anything but logistical.

They've both been dancing around their feelings for a while now, and things have been tense lately between them because of that. But there's no time to really hash it out. Not when the world is ending.

"That settles it, then," Kane says with a sigh, giving one last look at Bellamy. Bellamy simply nods once, curtly.

Clarke knows she's already lost that particular battle, and that the meeting is about to shift to another topic; but her panic at the prospect of him leaving overtakes her and she can't help but be pathetically transparent in her next words. "Bellamy, wait," Clarke insists, feeling her heart thundering to the tune of Don't let him go. Bellamy finally lifts his eyes from the map, meeting her gaze, but he doesn't say anything and his expression is inscrutable. Clarke tries to speak calmly but even she can hear the tightness in her own voice. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

His answer to that is what really pisses her off, though. "No," he says flatly. "I've already decided."

And then with that dismissive answer, he looks back down at the map, the meeting continues and Clarke's blood absolutely boils.

She spends the rest of the meeting stewing and only giving monosyllabic answers to any inquiries people throw her way, listening to the plans that are being made for Bellamy and his team to leave Arkadia the very next day, only to come back after they've scoped out the situation at the nuclear reactor that's smack in the middle of Ice Nation. She watches Bellamy act like nothing significant even just happened between them. Like he didn't just disregard her feelings towards him volunteering for this mission. How dare he? How dare he act like she doesn't have a right to—

She's startled out of her reverie by a light touch to her elbow, and she blinks, coming back to reality and realizing that the room is already starting to clear out. Her mom is throwing a look over her shoulder, nodding towards her because Clarke is the only one who hasn't been moving.

Meanwhile, Bellamy is standing next to her, tilting his head and his fingers still lightly touching her elbow. "Hey, the meeting's over," he reminds her, a half-smile gracing his beautiful features. "Let's go." When she doesn't say anything, his brow furrows a bit. "You okay?"

He sounds concerned, and it irritates her. "I didn't think you'd care."

There's a pause before he says, "What are you talking about?"

Clarke can tell there's a rather angry frown on her own face right now, but she can't be bothered to hide her displeasure from him right now. "Nothing," she bites out. The room is empty now except for the two of them.

Bellamy scans her expression. "It's not nothing," he says, still sounding vaguely confused and now, she's pleased to hear, slightly irritated as well. She tries to brush past him. "Where are you going now?"

She glares up at him, so frustrated she almost might cry. Which is why she needs some space from him right now. "To medical," she snaps. "That's where you want me, right? Safe and sound while you go off on missions trying to kill yourself?"

He sucks in a breath, and she watches the impact of those words hit him as he understands why she's acting this way. And then his expression hardens. "Someone has to do it, Clarke. If it wasn't me it'd be someone else, someone probably less well equipped. You know that."

But why does it have to be you? She wants to shout at him, like a selfish child. Why you?

Without answering, she makes to head for the door, but then he moves in front of her, looming in front of her path. "Wait."

Clarke ignores him, brushing past him roughly, but then Bellamy catches her elbow, stopping her in her tracks.

"We're not done here. Don't you dare walk away." Now he sounds pissed, too. Good.

Clarke looks down at the fingers that are wrapped around her arm, and then wrenches herself out of his grip. "Why don't you make me?" The words come petulantly from her mouth, but she doesn't care. Without looking back for his reaction she continues heading for the bay doors.

RIght before she can step out, the doors slide closed with a hiss, effectively trapping her in the room with him. Clarke wheels around the find him standing by the wall with his hand over the button that controls the doors.

She's livid. "Really, Bellamy? Really?"

"Like I said," he replies stonily, seemingly unfazed by the way she basically screams this at him, "We're not finished here. And I don't want to leave on a week long mission with you angry with me."

"No, of course not," she spits, crossing her arms. "Why don't you handcuff me to the table, too, and then you can make sure that we finish the conversation whether I want to or not."

She watches his stony expression falter, just enough that she sees the guilt pass over it, and then he turns his head to press the button again. Clarke hears the bay doors opening again behind her.

A little caught off guard, her arms fall from their crossed position over her chest and she watches him walk away from the wall and back to the council table, where he leans his hands against the metal and resumes studying the map they'd all been looking over during the meeting.

He's clearly expecting her to leave now, but Clarke suddenly doesn't want to anymore. She sighs, feeling her frustration evaporate and exhaustion take its place. She stands in place and rubs her hands vigorously along her own arms. It's drafty in here. "Bellamy." She doesn't know where to start, and it translates in her tone, a little sad and wanting.

He's staring a little too hard at the map, a muscle in his jaw clenching. "Just go, Clarke. They need you in medical." He sounds angry still, but it takes Clarke a moment to realize that it's directed towards himself, not her.

And suddenly she know exactly where to start. "But what about what I need?" she asks softly, taking a few steps closer. He doesn't respond, still staring at the map as if she hasn't spoken, and when she continues, "I need you, Bellamy," he closes his eyes like he can't even bear to hear it.

"You'll be fine for a little while without me," he says tersely, opening his eyes again. "Everyone's here to help if you need it."

"That's not what I meant and you know it," she tells him. He says nothing so she goes on. "I need you for you. Bellamy, you're my friend. My best friend. I can't— I can't lose you."

He's silent for a long moment before he straightens up from the table to look her in the eye, and she can tell her words have affected him. But his voice is steady as ever when he responds. "I'll come back."

She ignores this fruitless promise, because nothing can be promised in this world and besides, she's not done. "And you act like it doesn't matter. You act like you can just throw your life away at a moment's notice and no one will care." She feels a bit of her anger returning, just enough that her voice goes stronger than ever and she takes the few steps forward needed to jab her finger at his chest firmly, hard enough that he blinks at the force of it. "Has it ever occurred to you how hypocritical it is to try to jump in and stop me any time I try to do something you think is risky, but when I try to do the same thing you shut me down?"

"Have I ever been able to stop you, though?" he asks wryly, and he's missing the point as always.

"I care about you, Bellamy!" she nearly shouts at him. "So you don't get to pretend I don't have the right to at least talk to you before you do something like this. Not after everything we've been through together."

His wry smile has disappeared, and they're basically nose to nose so she can see the softness in his brown eyes, the way his lips have parted slowly upon her words. "Are you asking me not to go?" His voice is quiet.

She takes a deep breath. "Would I be able to stop you if I did?"

A beat.

"I don't know," he answers, and he almost sounds puzzled as if he's just realized that this is the truth.

She wants to ask. Oh, how she wants to, so so badly.

But at the same time, she's remembering what he said earlier, about being the most well-equipped for this mission. And he's— she hates this fact, but he's right. This mission has the best chances of success of it's him leading it. And it's critical that the mission succeeds if they all want to not die in the near future, so maybe that means she has to let him go this time. She can't— she can't afford to be selfish, for their people. She can't ask him to stay when her head knows the best thing is if he goes.

The realization causes a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"I won't ask you not to go," she finally says, and even she can hear the defeat colouring her own voice. He nods, as if he was expecting this. "But for the record, I don't want you to."

His eyes grow softer, and he just nods.

"Just come back," she feels the need to add. Because she knows how self-sacrificial he is, and she's scared of him doing something stupid. Scared that he'll think that the only thing he's good for is for the use of other people.

"Don't worry. I don't plan on dying." He smiles faintly. She doesn't say anything; he's not being very convincing. Evidently he thinks so too, because he adds, a little jokingly, "I have a fern in my quarters that will wither up if I don't come back to water it. See, there's incentive."

She will always worry, but she smiles back anyway. There's an ache starting in her heart, knowing it's inevitable that he leaves tomorrow. She hates being separated from him.

The tension between them finally feels like it's been diffused. But that's when she truly becomes aware of how close they're standing, and suddenly there's a different kind of tension in place.

His body heat radiates enough to warm her chest slightly, and she can feel his fingers, very lightly grazing her sides as if he's ready to catch her if she falls forward. She can't help but just drink him in this up close; the dark ends of his hair that curl over his forehead, the pretty brown eyes, the smattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose, and the way his guard's jacket stretches luxuriously along the broad lines of his shoulders; she misses him already, and he's still standing in front of her.

Bellamy's smile fades the longer she stares at him, and somewhere in the back of her mind she knows there's a vaguely hungry look on her face.

She reaches up with a hand, fingers trailing through the curls on the side of his head. He inhales sharply when she does, but she pays it no mind for the time being. She's always kind of wanted to do that. And his hair is so unexpectedly soft for how rough-textured it looks.

"Clarke," he begins warily. His voice is deliciously low and rough, grating at Clarke in all the right places.

Without even really thinking, she kisses him. She only has to lean forward an extra inch or two to get to his lips. He jolts upon the touch of her mouth like he's been electrocuted, taking three rapid steps back. Clarke matches them, until the backs of his legs are pressed against the table and he's almost leaning away from her lips.

"What are you doing—" he repeats, eyes wide. Cheeks flushed.

"Giving you incentive to come back," she replies, running one of her hands over his arm and shoulder, and then to the back of his head to curl her fingers into his hair again. His gaze darkens at her words, and he doesn't protest this time when she kisses him this time— in fact, he meets her halfway, and then his hands place themselves firmly on her waist and his mouth begins to move against hers.

She meant to leave it at a chaste kiss, but something inside her snaps at the feeling of his warmth, his lean body molding hers to it, and the way his lips feel sliding against hers. She tilts her head in an effort to kiss him more deeply. He responds in kind, hands now running up to the small of her back to press her closer. She steps between his legs; she's standing, and he's half-sitting on the edge of the table, so that she's leaning down slightly to kiss him and he's tilting his head up.

In retrospect, things get slightly out of hand— She brings her hands to his front, over his chest and then to map the strong lines of his throat before going back up to his smooth jaw. His hands on her back slide down— fast, so fast she doesn't even register that for a millisecond they're sliding down her ass— before his palms press against the backs of her thighs, urging her her body completely against him.

She's jolted into the realization that she can feel every line of his body against the softness of hers, and it makes her lightheaded and dizzy.

Too much. It unnerves her.

In the end, that's the reason she breaks from the kiss. He doesn't chase her, doesn't really even react much when she leans away, bracing her hands on his shoulders and taking deep breaths. He just watches her with half-lidded eyes, breathing heavily as well. His lips are red and she feels a zing of possessiveness upon seeing it— that she did that.

Neither of them say anything for a long minute.

When she finally catches her breath, she says, "There's more where that came from." She slides a hand down to his chest to jab at it with her pointer finger. "If you come back."

His mouth ticks up into a grin. "Hell of an incentive." One of his large hands is still curled over the back of her thigh, and she's trying desperately not to notice how warm it makes her feel.

Before she can respond, there are voices getting louder down the corridor, and Clarke realizes that the door is open, that this is a public meeting room, and someone could walk in at any moment.

She straightens, pushing away from him. He doesn't move. She suddenly feels rather shy, and looks down at her feet. "I really should get back to medical."

"Alright."

"And next time you try to do something like this," she can't help but add, "you have to talk to me first."

He narrows his eyes a bit at her tone of voice. "Only if you do it too," he shoots back, and they stare hard at each other for a moment before Clarke relents.

"Fine."

"Good."

Clarke starts walking out of the room, keenly aware that he's watching her go. She's two steps down the hall before she turns. He's still where she left him, half-sitting on the edge of the table. She's not sure she'll get another private moment with Bellamy before he leaves tomorrow, so she feels the need to reiterate, "Just— come back to me. Please." She's begging, a little bit, and she doesn't really care.

She knows he understands the gravity to her words by the way his eyes soften and he nods. It's then that two workmen round the corner and their private time is up. With one last look, she finally sets off back down the corridor; but she still hears his quiet words spoken a moment later.

"You won't even notice I'm gone."

How she wishes, she thinks as a lump begins to grow in her throat, one that will be there for at least a week; how she wishes that were the case.

A/N: Whoo-ee. That was fun. ;)

and by the way, statistics clearly indicate that I am 100% likely to squee in joy if you leave a review on this fine, fine day. ;)

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