shut up, murphy
Bellamy’s ideal roadtrip team is himself, to drive the Rover. Murphy, the lynchpin. Raven, as tech support. Clarke, because she knows where Lexa is hiding. Murphy guesses that Bellamy counts himself as muscle, but he kind of wishes there was somebody else with them: maybe Octavia, or even Lincoln. He can fight now, kind of, but he’s injured and weak. Clarke is no bruiser. He already crippled Raven.
He takes shotgun because he’s Bellamy’s favorite. Raven climbs into the back so she can cradle her computer monitors or spread them all out over the floor, whichever. It’s a two-day trip, even taking the Rover. Clarke and Bellamy occasionally both leave the car to clear snow or other debris from the path.
They stop once, at a trading post somewhere between the cave and wherever. Clarke is friends with the owner, and she maybe rents a room on the second floor of the trading post.
Murphy is exhausted, which doesn’t make sense, because all he’s been doing all day is sitting in the Rover and watching Bellamy and Clarke do work. But he stumbles out of the car and follows them inside, sits down at a table and their host shoves a bowl of something hot at him. There’s a spoon involved. He starts eating it. It’s rice and maybe some kind of sauce. It’s good. The really important thing is that it’s hot.
Bellamy slides in next to him. “Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” says Murphy.
“So what’s up with Luna?” asks Bellamy.
Murphy freezes up. “I don’t want to talk about her,” he says into his bowl.
“Okay,” Bellamy says, easy. “Then what’s up with us?”
The cold feeling in his lungs doesn’t go away. “I like you,” he says. “You like me.”
It was that easy with Emori. Bellamy looks like that isn’t gonna cut it. Clarke steps into his line of vision, addresses both of them: “Hey, are you guys good sharing a bed?”
Bellamy nods. “Murph?” he says. Shortens his name. That’s kind of.
“Yeah,” he says. “That’s fine.” It’s a thing. For sure. It maybe does a thing for his heart.
Clarke nods and leaves them.
“So are we together, or what?” Bellamy wants to know.
Murphy would bury his head in his arms if he wasn’t already preoccupied with this bowl. As it is, he shoves more rice into his mouth, chews, swallows.
Are we together, or what? He doesn’t know. He’s so tired. He’s exhausted. “Please,” he says, and then stops. He’s not gonna beg Bellamy for anything. “I don’t know,” he changes to. “Look, I have to get through this first, okay?”
“Yeah,” says Bellamy. “I get it.” Good. “After, though, we’ll talk, yeah?”
There is no after. There is only forward, to the Commander, to the City of Light again. He sees no future, no afterwards. No solution. But — maybe? “I just — are you gonna be there?”
“After this is over?” Bellamy says, and he kind of smiles. “Yeah, Murphy. You’ve still got me.”
And that’s some kind of comfort.
—
At home, back at the dropship, Bellamy always reads before they go to sleep. He leaves the light on and Murphy usually falls asleep before he turns it off. Sometimes, he’ll read aloud to Murphy, if he wants to.
But it looks like he didn’t bring a book with him. So after he takes off his shoes, Bellamy snuffs the candle out, and it’s. It’s cold.
“Look,” says Murphy into the darkness, rough. “I’m gonna go into the City of Light again, and I don’t know how it’s gonna be. If things get — rough, if I start — shooting people again, you gotta take me out. You can’t —“
Bellamy make a noise, and then: “I don’t know if I can —“
“You have to do what is necessary,” says Murphy, firm.
“I —“ Bellamy starts, but Murphy doesn’t let him finish.
“If it helps — I don’t love you. We’re not together.”
“Yeah?” says Bellamy, and he’s sitting up now.
“I hate you,” he says, and his voice trembles. “I’ve never liked you, not since you betrayed me, that’s why I sold you out to the Grounders, why I —“
Bellamy catches hold of his chin. “Shut up, Murphy,” he says.
Murphy stops talking. Bellamy cups a hand to the nape of his neck, pulls him forward. Kisses him.
Bellamy’s lips are chapped, raw. He tastes like heat, and the late afternoon sun, and blood. Bellamy pulls away, doesn’t remove his hand. “Are you —“
“Please,” says Murphy aloud. “I’m scared.”
“I know,” Bellamy says. “Me too. Do you want to —?”
“Yes,” says Murphy, and Bellamy curls Murphy to his chest. Warmth and closeness and Murphy swallows down his tears.
—
It’s even colder in the morning. Murphy feels like he has frozen into a solid block of ice. There’s no way he’s going to leave this warm, comfy bed, ever. Bellamy’s already gone, so he pulls those blankets over him as well, and gets cozier. Curls up. Drifts back into sleep.
Wakes up again when Bellamy pulls the blankets off of him. “I’m going to murder you,” Murphy says, dead serious, sitting up. Cold! Cold cold cold! “Why the fuck would you —“
Bellamy shoves a bowl of something warm into his hands. A spoon follows. Murphy bends to eat it — it’s hot rice stuff again. Maybe some shredded meat. It’s good. “Okay,” he says, swallowing. “I forgive you.”
“Good morning to you too,” says Bellamy, wry. “Put your shoes on, we’re leaving.”
Murphy groans and slides off the bed, still cradling the bowl in the crook of his arm. Pulls his shoes on, doesn’t stop eating. Sets the bowl down so Bellamy can help him pull on his jacket.
He doesn’t really remember what happens after he sets the bowl down, but then he’s sitting shotgun in the Rover and Bellamy is asking him something. He doesn’t think he fell asleep, though. It’s not a good feeling. “What?” he says.
“Murphy, you’re kind of out of it,” says Bellamy, maybe for the second time. “Do you want to take a nap in the back? It’s still another six hours until we get there.”
“Yeah,” says Murphy, agreeable, because that sounds like a good plan, and Bellamy stops the Rover in the middle of the pathway and he and Clarke switch seats. Raven procures several blankets that were previously bundled around technology and Murphy wraps them around himself instead. Takes up a whole bench in the back.
Wakes up later to the car stopped and someone banging on the side of the Rover. He sits up. “Aw, shit, Bell,” he says, almost giddy. “We’re being robbed.”