Chapter Text
Murphy always enjoyed the rush of adrenaline he got when he stole something or got punched in the face or ran from the cops with his best friend Bellamy and his sister. This time, it was a punch in the face from Bellamy's new friend, Clarke. He hadn't expected her to hit so hard, but that's what happens. His heart was racing , and he punched her back, right across the nose. The smile he got from Bellamy only added to his heart rate, and his punch elicited a cheer from Octavia as well.
"Kick her ass!" For someone so small, she has a large vocabulary.
So Murphy does. He punches her harder when she's stabilized herself. His knuckles hurt, but Bellamy would know, with how much he's punched him as well. As much as he acts like he hates him, he's nearly all Murphy has left now, save for Octavia and now, maybe Clarke, though she's on thin ice. The only reason he's hanging out with her is because Bellamy likes to be around her, for whatever reason.
When the fight's over, Bellamy claps a strong hand down on Murphy's shoulder. "You fought well today, John," he mutters softly. Murphy knows he only calls him John when he really means what he says. "I almost believed you didn't fuck up your hand." This gets a chuckle from Murphy.
"I don't see you throwing punches like that, Bell." He's only joking, so when Bellamy gives him a frown, he almost apologizes. Almost .
"Aw, I'm hurt," the man says in reply. Murphy gives him another laugh and throws a filthy, white rag at him.
"Shut up." He smiles a very little bit, leaning back against the hard brick wall of the warehouse they've camped out in for the past five years. When he thinks about it, it's hard to believe he's already 23. It's even harder to believe Bellamy's 24. They haven't talked about it much, or at all for that matter. They don't talk about how they're aging. Change like that scares Murphy. Getting older means getting slower and that's not good when you're running from the law like they do every day.
"Hey, how do you like the new girl?" Bellamy asks. "Clarke? The one you were just punching." Murphy smiles softly, shrugging.
"She's alright, but…" He trails off. He's thinking of the way she looks at Bellamy, and how he looks back at her.
"But…?" Bellamy continues, hoping to get the younger to finish.
"Forget it, she's great. I love her," Murphy finishes, pushing off the wall and walking towards the kitchen. "I'm starving. We got anything good? Or do you wanna go down to a bar with me and get something better? Something stronger."
Bellamy doesn't believe him when he says he loves Clarke, but it's better than getting into it now. He's hoping maybe if he gets him drunk enough, he'll tell him everything on his mind. So he says yes, and they head to a local bar.
They both order whiskey. Too many, in fact, and Murphy is drunk . Bellamy hasn't had that many, so he's only mildly tipsy. Enough to hold in all his secrets. Murphy, now, he's a party drunk. If he gets drunk enough, he gets sad. Right now, he's in the sad stage. Just what Bellamy needs.
"Murphy, do you wanna tell me about Clarke now?" he says, reaching an arm out a little.
Murphy shakes his head, turning away from him. "What is there to say, Bellamy? She's great. Why won't you let it go? I love her." The way he turns his head away again concerns Bellamy.
"Alright, I'll drop it. You seem quite drunk, Murph. You wanna head back?" Bellamy slid off his barstool, holding his arm out. Murphy nodded and stepped in front of him, ignoring his extended arm. This would be a long night for both of them, especially for Bellamy. Murphy's not talking any time soon, and Clarke will probably bombard him with questions about everything. She has already.
He just wants her to disappear.