Just One Dance, a 100 fanfic

Summary: Murphy's attending his cousin's wedding, or The One Where Murphy Needs A Date For A Night, and has a specific person in mind…

Next (or 3rd) instalment in my 'behind blue eyes' series

Notes:

Title by Caro Emerald. This time tho, I totally nailed this.

I'm trying something else here, I hope it works.

Just One Dance

"Clarke!" Murphy shouts, as he's entering the room. "Remember how I'm the reason that you and Blake got together?"

His voice is getting louder which each stride, until he stops just a foot away.

"No." Bellamy says, firmly, from his spot on the couch, without looking up, eyes on the book in his hand.

"Excuse you, but Emori and me totally planned it all out —"

"Still no," Bellamy repeats.

"A s - I - W a s - … " Murphy presses on, turning to Clarke.

She's sitting on the couch, Bellamy's head in her lap, and she's toying with his hair. His hair is soft in her fingers.

She could do this for hours, she thinks, but Murphy's impatient voice pulls her back. "My cousin is marrying this weekend, and I need a Plus One."

"Hell, no! Forget it Murphy!" Bellamy closes his book with a slam, and shoves it aside. Soon enough, he's sitting in an upright position, leaving only cold air behind between her fingers.

He's staring at Murphy, hard.

"I'm your soulmate. And you owe me one." Murphy says, keeping his eyes on Clarke.

"I said NO," Bellamy raises his voice and jumps to his feet. "A Plus One indicates an intimate relationship, and I'm not gonna let —" he pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. "you, touch —"

"If not Clarke, then maybe your sister …" Murphy starts, only to be interjected by Bellamy, once again.

"HELL, NO! The first time you met my sister you . . . — " Bellamy makes a face at the reminiscence of the memory, then turns to Clarke, with an exasperated expression.

He closes his eyes, breathing heavily, as if in the middle of an actual physical fight. Another shiver runs through his features, remembering all too well, before shaking his head in an attempt to shake the memory away. "…. No. I am not gonna trust you with any of my girls!" He's practically shouting now, with a certain finality in his voice.

Clarke finds it hilarious, actually, so much that she cannot control her giggles anymore.

He called her, one of his girls, for one. And second, his concern is really sweet and touching, albeit unnecessary. It's just Murphy… being Murphy.

"That was an accident!" Murphy throws back at Bellamy.

Yes, the first time, she thinks, stifling another set of giggles, covering her mouth with her hands.

"Claaaaarke,"Murphy whines, pleading eyes boring into hers as he's turning to her once more. "Please. You owe me one," he says, softer this time.

"Shut up, Murphy!" Bellamy interjects, "I'm not going to repeat myself, AGAIN!"

Murphy looks at Clarke, still pleading.

"Please. I already RSVPed a Plus One months ago. I was supposed to take Emori, but then — the point is, I cannot show up alone. Anya's childhood best friend is single again."

Oh yes, she remembers the girl.

Ontari.

Her childhood photos are sweet, even with the pimples dotted all over her face. She must be a grown up woman now. Except, last she's heard the pimples upgraded into some weird facial scar. The poor girl.

"She's looking at me …" Murphy carries on, huffing a sigh," I never know if she wants to jump me or skin me alive. And, I cannot sit at the singles table. It's lame —"

"ENOUGH!" Bellamy cuts him off, taking a step forward, practically towering over him with a look that she can only describe as feral, before stabbing a finger to Murphy's chest, rather hard.

"But —"Murphy says, taking a step back and rubbing his fingers in circles on the sore spot already forming on his chest, while Clarke starts to say, "Bell — , "at the same time.

Bellamy heaves a sigh.

"Alright."

But then also adds, "But. I'll do it."

"WHAT?!" Clarke and Murphy both snap their heads at Bellamy's direction.

"I'll be your Plus One," he clarifies.

"Blake, you cannot be serious —"

"What? Am I not pretty enough for you?" He asks, sounding a little offended, and his suddenly hurtful eyes are telling enough that he is, indeed, offended, while he's gesturing with his hand down at the length of his body. "Take it or leave it."

Murphy huffs and scowls, and Clarke is really just left to assess the situation, once her giggles has finally died down.

Murphy huffs again, but then he must be thinking better of it and mumbles a hardly audible, although clearly grumpy alright.

No one moves for a while.

A minute passes, maybe two, before Bellamy lays a hand on her shoulder and squeezes gently, and then with a wink he starts toward the bedroom.

He's almost by the door, when he throws back "Come on, muffin," over his shoulder, "we have to pack."

Murphy follows, soon after, heading towards his room.

Clarke's pretty sure she hears a mumbled You'd better be good from Murphy before standing up herself, hot on Bellamy's heels.

Later, when they are alone in the confines of their bedroom, another rush of uncontrollable giggles bubble up out of her, until Bellamy levels her with a gaze, telling her to stop.

"So, I'm your girl, big boy?"

"Oh shut up."

Truth is, Murphy did try to get a date for the wedding.

He gave up on hitting on random girls at random places, although he had tried that for a while. None of those girls stuck, though.

He'd signed up for Tinder instead.

Until one day he asked: "Am I doing Tinder right."

"Oh my god," Bellamy'd said, then stood up rather suddenly and left them alone in the living room.

"Look," Murphy extended his arm, practically showing the phone in her face.

Surprisingly enough he was a man in very much demand. But that was not the source of the problem.

"Seriously, Clarke. Do I look like someone who's only looking for a one-night stand?"

She raised her eyebrows, amused, because really? Was that the thing worrying him?

"Look, this one suggested to come up to my place…"

"Eww Murphy, I don't want to know. "

And then her eyebrows had unfurrowed even further, disappearing into her hairline, under the few tufts of hair, coming undone from her messy bun, now dangling freely around her head.

A pretty good amount of those matches'd turned out to be… guys.

A few of them really good looking, with nice smiles and, objectively speaking, really nice muscle structure. But. She hadn't known that he was bi. She'd already told him about her dating backstory, and fair is fair, he should have told her, being roommates for months and all.

She knew she was pouting a little, so what. They were friends, weren't they?

But then she added: "Is there something you're trying to tell me with this…" with a pointed a stare, not really looking at him, but at the crease forming on his forehead.

"What? No. It's just…" he let out a breath before he carried on. "Nevermind."

It happened only few days later, when he got matched with two girls-turned-out-to-be-dudes, who were sending the dick pics.

For Murphy, though, that was the last drop, and he gave up on the whole Tinder thing. At least, for a while.

By Friday, they have a list of ground rules.

Allowed forms of PDA:

1. Nicknames — limited to 'muffin' or 'pumpkin'. No 'babe'

2. Handholding

3. Other casual touches? — subtle little touches, but no more touching than necessary to convince grounder girl that Murphy is taken

4. NO GROPING

5. No Kisses — on the face/ quick dry kiss on the lips is a stretch/ ONLY if absolutely necessary

6. NO FRENCH KISS

7. No feeding food to each other. It's gross.

8. Room sharing — need to keep up the pretences + it's only one night

9. Dancing — one slow dance + no neck nuzzling!

Clarke stares at the words scribbled on the single piece of paper, hurriedly teared out of a notebook, and smiles.

They clearly figured this out.

On Saturday afternoon, they are set to go.

Murphy's impatiently tapping his feet, one hand on the door knob, the other holding his duffel, when Bellamy finally appears. Ready.

And well, Bellamy in a suit is a great sight. She's a lucky girl.

He's freshly shaved and she finds herself thinking that it makes him look younger, and much much more hot.

No. He looks insanely hot. Mouthwatering. Damn Murphy for taking him away for a stupid wedding for the whole weekend.

She's already feeling that warm and fuzzy feeling rising low in her stomach, and not soon later the same warmth is creeping up her neck and spreading over her limbs. She's buzzing literally everywhere. She's electrified.

She thought she was lucky? No. She's so damned right now. She will have to wait a full damn day and a half to deal with this. Or, she could deal with this alone.

She pushes the thought away, she'd much rather prefer it to be Bellamy.

She'd been out with O for an impromptu shopping spree earlier that afternoon, but then O had to leave to prepare for her date night, so she couldn't join her and Raven on their Boobs Only night.

It had been nice. Maybe they'd been drinking a little out of control, but really, she should have known. Whenever Raven gets into it, Clarke has hardly any control over the situation.

No wonder she'd lost track of counting the shots after the second round.

Her sides are still aching a little, she'd indeed laughed that much, but she'd never thought that Wells was an actual tiger in bed. The sweet and innocent, caring little boy she grew up with, who taught her the basics of Chess and saved stray Easter bunnies and kittens like they were his own.

Not that she'd really wanted to know this much about their sex life.

But once in a while it is Raven's turn to babble or vent, and apparently tonight was one of these occasions: Raven going into full blabber mode, hardly taking a breath. So Clarke just went with it, and it'd been a fun night.

So when she gets home well after midnight, the most she wants to do is a quick hot shower and crawling into bed. She didn't expect this.

Trillions of text messages blinking with a big red sign on her phone, taunting her silently, Read me read me read me, awaiting to be opened and read.

Okay, maybe not a trillion, she hasn't counted, but a lot.

From Murphy.

And from Bellamy.