Take a Nap Sleeping Beauty

            Ronnie ducks into her shared tent to find Jasper and Monty hunched over a makeshift brewing station, their faces lit with anticipation. The air is thick with the sour scent of fermentation. "Guys, people are getting impatient, and I am ready to get wasted." She flops down next to Monty with a teasing grin.

           "It takes time to make perfection." Monty chuckles, carefully pouring the cloudy liquid from one container to another.

            Ronnie snorts. "Yeah? Tell that to the drunks outside foaming at the mouth."

            "At least I know I can't mess this up," Monty jokes- then immediately stops smiling. His expression falls, just for a second.

            Ronnie catches it instantly. She nudges his arm, voice softer now. "Monty, that wasn't your fault. I designed the wristbands. I missed the flaw. That's on me, not you. I'm sorry for making you feel like it was."

            Monty gives her a small, appreciative smile. It's not much, but it's enough. He picks up the jug and pours out three small cups. "Cheers." The three clink their makeshift mugs together and down the alcohol in one gulp.

            Ronnie lets out a sharp whistle, coughing slightly. "Damn, Monty, that is some strong stuff."

            Monty grins. Jasper, fueled by the approval, grabs the jug and bolts out of the tent, cheering like a madman. The sound of excited delinquents echoes as he shares the bounty.

            Ronnie shakes her head with a smirk. "Please have some fun today, Monty. It is Unity Day, after all." She nudges him with her shoulder before stepping out of the tent, watching with amusement as the other delinquents descend on Jasper like vultures. Her smile lingers, but she doesn't join in.

            Instead, she makes her way toward the weapons tent. There's work to be done.

~*~

            Inside the weapons tent, Ronnie gets to work disassembling bullets, carefully extracting the gunpowder and separating the duds. The muffled sounds of laughter and drunken antics outside contrast with the steady, meticulous work in front of her.

            Every so often, Monty slips in, wordlessly handing her another cup of his bootleg alcohol before disappearing again. By the third visit, she's properly buzzed. Which is probably why she doesn't react fast enough when-

            "Son of a bitch!" A bullet explodes in her hands, burning the tip of her pointer finger. She hisses in pain, shaking her hand out.

           "You sure you were a mechanic on the Ark?" The rough voice makes her roll her eyes before she even turns around.

            "Ha, ha, very funny." She shakes out her injured hand more, finally looking up to meet Bellamy's gaze.

            He crosses his arms, a smug smirk on his face. "Can we talk?"

            "No. I have work to do- assigned to me and Raven, by Clarke and you." She turns back to her task, picking up another bullet and her pliers.

            Another pop- another minor explosion. "Goddamn it!"

            Bellamy steps forward, exasperated. "Will you stop before you blow your hand off?"

            Ronnie groans and slams her pliers onto the table, sending scattered ammo rolling everywhere. "Why doesn't anything I do work anymore?!" The frustration bursts out before she can stop it. Her hands grip the edge of the table as she glares down at the bullets. "I fixed a whole damn drop ship that carried a hundred people back to Earth somewhat safely, but I can't pull apart a stupid bullet without it blowing up in my face!" She snatches up the cup Monty left her and downs another swig.

            Bellamy watches her, then sighs. "Probably because you're getting drunk on Monty's 'Unity Juice.'"

            Before she can react, he snatches the cup from her hand and dumps the rest onto the ground. Ronnie stares. Then blinks. "What the hell, Bellamy?!"

            "If you're working with highly unstable ammo, maybe don't get drunk while doing it."

           "Sorry, Dad," she fires back, voice dripping with sarcasm. Bellamy rolls his eyes at her. "What are you gonna do, ground me?" Ronnie snickers at her own joke.

            Bellamy steps closer, lowering his voice. "I'll lock you in the drop ship if that's what you really want."

            She scoffs. "Oh please. I'm not your sister. You can't just hide me away." Turning back to her work, she grabs another bullet and her pliers. "Now, if you'll excuse me-"

            "Jaha pardoned me for my crimes."

            The words hit her like a slap. Her fingers freeze around the bullet. Slowly, she turns her head, eyes searching his face. He actually talked to Jaha. Maybe- just maybe- that means he won't try to run again.

            A small, unbidden smile tugs at her lips. She keeps her mouth shut, through. Not because she doesn't care, but because she does. And she's still mad at him.

            Bellamy seems to understand. He takes a step back. "Have fun today, Ronnie. You deserve it." He smirks slightly. "And try not to blow your hands off."

            Ronnie watches him as he turns to leave. "Bell-"

            At her words he stops and turns his head.

            "You deserve it too."

            Then with a smile, he's gone.

~*~

            An hour later- "Oh, piss off, you stupid, freaking ass-hat bullet!"

            Monty pokes his head into the tent, eyebrows raised. "Do you want to keep cussing out every bullet, or do you want to play an alcohol game with me?"

            Ronnie glares at the stubborn bullet in her hands, then looks up at Monty.

            He smirks. "I think you need a break. Though I would love to hear more creative insults."

            A slow grin spreads across Ronnie's face. "Hmm... Blow my hand off or get wasted?" She lifts her fingers, counting the options.

            Monty wiggles his eyebrows. "I think you know the better choice here."

            Ronnie eyes him, then tosses the bullet over her shoulder and stands. "You're about to see the best damn hand-eye coordination in your life."

            Monty grins. "Now that's the Ronnie I know."

~*~

            Ronnie dominates the game, not missing a single shot even after multiple cups of Monty's extra-strong Unity Juice. "All right, I'm tapping out. I think I see three cups over there, but I know there's only one." She pats Monty's back, wobbling slightly.

            A chorus of groans rise from the gathered delinquents, disappointed that their entertainment is over. Ronnie grins and waves them off as she starts toward her tent, intent on sleeping off at least some of the alcohol. But as she walks, she stumbles over a thick tree root. Before she can hit the dirt, a pair of hands catch her.

            "You should watch your step," a familiar voice teases.

            She looks up to see Dane smirking down at her. A matching smirk tugs at her lips as she recognizes the glint in his eyes. Oh, we're doing this again? "Y'know, we never did finish where we left off the other day," she purrs, giggling as she tugs him toward her tent.

            Just as she reaches the entrance, he stops her, cupping her face before pressing his lips to hers- hungry, eager, like he needs this. She hums against his mouth before pulling away with a mischievous grin, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. "Now, where were we?" she teases, stepping inside and tugging her shirt over her head. She shakes her hair loose, letting her shirt fall to the ground before turning back- and freezing.

            Because standing in her tent isn't Dane. It's Bellamy.

            "The hell?" Ronnie shrieks, scrambling to cover herself with crossed arms. "What are you doing here?"

            Bellamy doesn't even flinch at the lack of clothes on Ronnie. "I said have some fun, not this much. You're drunk and not thinking straight."

            She huffs, fumbling to yank her shirt back on, struggling as the fabric twists the wrong way. She nearly topples over in the process, and Bellamy's unimpressed stare only makes her scowl harder.

            "What is it with you Blake siblings ruining my- whoa!" Her protest is cut off as Bellamy grabs her wrist and drags her out of the tent. "Bellamy, let go!" she snaps, stumbling as he hauls her across camp. "What don't you understand about leave me alone, huh?"

            Bellamy doesn't answer. He just keeps pulling her forward, past the bonfire, past the drunken revelers, straight into the drop ship.

            "You are not-"

            He steers her up the ladder to the top level before she can finish. "Sit."

            She crosses her arms and glares at him. "Or what?"

            His only response is to turn and climb back down the ladder.

            "Wait- no. No, no, no- Bellamy, don't you dare-"

            The hatch slams shut and the lock clicks.

            Ronnie stares at the metal in stunned silence for a beat before exploding. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" She pounds her fists against the door. "Let me out right now, or I swear to God, Bellamy, I will kill you!"

            "Sleep it off," comes his smug reply.

            Ronnie growls, yanking at the latch even though she knows it won't budge. "You absolute dickhead! You have no right to do this!"

            Bellamy chuckles. "Do what you do best, Sleeping Beauty- take a nap."

            Ronnie throws her head back with an exasperated groan. "If I'm Sleeping Beauty, why the hell did you lock up in a tower like Rapunzel, you ass?"

            Her question was met with silence. He was already gone.

            With no other options, Ronnie slumps to the floor. She hums to herself for a bit. Then she gets bored of her own voice. She glances around the drop ship and spots her tool belt. Grinning, she grabs a screwdriver and starts scratching a picture into the wall- her best attempt at Bellamy Blake, arrogant smirk and all. When she steps back to admire her work, her smirk falters.

            "...Yeah, okay, Clarke's got me beat." Still, the face is annoying enough to make her feel satisfied. She picks up another screwdriver and hurls it at the wall. It sticks right into the forehead.

            A few minutes later, most of her pointy tools are buried in the wall, her masterpiece now an unrecognizable mess of scratches and holes. She sighs and trudges over to pry them out, listing them off as she does."Phillips head, slotted, Pozidriv..." She yanks the last screwdriver free just as the sound of the latch catches her attention. Her head snaps up.

            She practically vibrates in excitement as she hears footsteps on the ladder. When the hatch swings open, revealing Raven, Ronnie nearly jumps for joy.

            "What the hell are you doing locked in-?"

            Ronnie doesn't let her finish. She grabs Raven's face and kisses her forehead. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

            Raven pulls back, stunned. "Uh... no? You usually tell me how much I annoy the hell out of you."

            Ronnie grins. "Well, right now, you are the love of my life." She hops down through the hatch, leaving Raven to blink after her in confusion.

            Outside, the party is still raging, bonfires crackling, voices loud with laughter and drunken shouts. "Ronnie! I need you on my team!" Monroe calls from across camp. "We're playing drunk ball, and I need that hand-eye coordination you showed earlier."

            Ronnie chuckles. "Tempting, but I think I've had enough fun for today. Good luck!" Instead of rejoining the party, she slips past the wall and out into the quiet night. She heads toward the graves just outside camp, plopping down beside Wells's.

            "Happy Unity Day, Wells," she murmurs, picking at the grass. "Remember when I told you-" Her story of a previous Unity Day celebration dies in her throat when movement catches her eye.

             Her gaze snaps up, narrowing as she spots a figure sneaking away from camp. She squints. The person glances, around, just enough for Ronnie to see their face. Octavia.

            Ronnie smirks, shaking her head. Oh, I see what you're up to, Blakey. Then- another figure steps out from the shadows. Ronnie's smirk fades as her stomach twists. Finn.

            He glances around before following Octavia into the dark. Ronnie's brows furrow. What the hell is he doing? She glances back at Wells's grave with a sigh.

            "Okay, hold that thought." She pushes to her feet and takes a step forward. Then she pauses with a frown on her face. "... When the hell did I become the responsible one?"