Summary: Murphy needs help to woo a girl, aka The One Where Murphy Asks Clarke A Favour and she reluctantly agrees
Notes:
Title by The Doors.
I have no idea how this happened. The idea hit me, out of blue yesterday, when it was a sunny day and I went out of town to wander a little in a forrest. We value sunny days here in Germany, so maybe it is all due to the sudden intake of fresh air. (No, I am not German. Yes, I grew up in a country with lots of sun. No, not Spain or Italy, and not any of the Mediterranean countries.)
Come On Baby, Light My Fire
"Griffin!" Clarke cringes internally and tries to walk faster upon hearing her name.
She would know that voice anywhere. It's Murphy's.
She's not in the mood, today above all, for listening to his whining again. She's on her way to her appointment with her professor, and he doesn't linger around in his office for students in need.
She's already late.
Professor Cage Wallace is a hard person to please. It took her a lot of begging to set up this appointment in the first place, and she's already fucked it up.
Normally, she didn't mind sweet-talking teachers that much, if her future was dependent on it. She's done it before. Like with Professor Sidney last semester, or Professor Pike the one before.
But this is Cage, and he is different. She has to swallow the bile in her mouth whenever she talks to him, let alone sees him. Every single time. He is an asshole. A big one, everyone knows. But his father is the Dean, and well — her life sucks.
She peeks at her watch, 'Already 10 minutes too late.'
"What do you want Murphy?" She stops in her tracks and turns to level Murphy with a gaze. Not that she can really intimidate him, but maybe he will recognise the urgency in her voice and he will stop stalling. "I'm in a bit of a hurry. So spit it out!", she prompts.
"Remember the time you accused me in summer camp of stealing and gutting Dora Perkins' rug doll? "
'Not this again', she sighs.
"It's hard to forget, since you remind me every fucking day we meet. And it was like a decade ago! We were kids. Grow up, get over it!"
"Nice try, Griffin. But I had to clean the toilets, for a week. It scarred me for life —"
Well, he is right.
The real culprit turned out to be Charlotte, one of the younger girls in camp. She was weirdly into dead things, for one.
She liked to see what was inside of inanimate objects, such as dolls and Transformers, among other things. See, there's also that one kid in every group who has that weird interest. In their summer camp, it happened to be little Charlotte — the one oddball who collected bugs and butterflies like others did with shells or stones.
She admitted her deed a week later, for Murphy, though, it had been already too late. He'd already fulfilled his allotted punishment: latrine duty for 7 full days. Not the best day of Clarke's life, which is an understatement, honestly. Years gone by, and she's still not proud of it, just like she's not proud of the weak 'Ooooops' she mumbled on the spot when Charlotte stepped forward to confess — but hey, she was just a thirteen year old kid herself.
Charlotte's defence was the usual, albeit very sad 'my parents are going through a divorce'. She would have been too young to carry out cleaning duty, anyway. No wonder Murphy is still a little irritated about that. (No wonder, he never forgets.)
It's not like Clarke doesn't feel bad about it. She still has this nervous flutter in her belly whenever her mind brings it up. But she's learnt her lesson for life: sometimes, it is better to keep her mouth shut.
Murphy is still a massive asshole, for reminding her, again, to top it all she's already very late!
He knows very well she's still feeling guilty about this shit.
Sometimes, though, apart from their shared past at that one summer camp, she feels sorry for him. It's not pity, she truly feels for him being misunderstood.
John Murphy, the clown of the camp, the brooding bad boy of the neighbourhood. True, he's a grumpy asshole on the outside, but once you get to know him, the real him without his walls up, you also happen to learn that he's an incredibly committed and loyal friend.
Not that she would ever admit this out loud to anyone. You have to discover it yourself to enjoy the perks: Murphy the friend or Murphy the protector.
Murphy would kill her himself if she even hinted that he had a softer side.
"You owe me Griffin," he repeats the sentiment again, pulling her back.
She sighs dramatically, she's not gonna just cave in that easily for him. "What do you want?" she asks, impatience clear in her voice. "And cut the crap, Murphy, just tell me what you want."
He's leaning in, his eyes are sweeping their surroundings as if to make sure no one is listening in on what he has to say. "I want you to date me."
"You what?!" she blinks at him, horrified. "No way —"
"Would you listen for a minute…" he starts, his voice is calming this time.
She's missed her appointment. Professor Wallace closed his office 15 minutes early, the asshole.
'Thanks Murphy.'
The plan was easy.
To go on a few pretend dates with him, at this cozy Cafe at the corner, between the dorms and the tennis court, where this girl Emori worked. Doing that to show her The John Murphy is a catch.
The only problem is — that this is the exact same Cafe, where Bellamy started to work last semester; with Emori in the same shift.
Bellamy, as in her secret crush Bellamy. Octavia's brother Bellamy. Not that there are too many Bellamys walking around in campus, or on Planet Earth for that matter.
Well, not so secret crush anymore, since Wells knows about it. Which also means that Raven knows about it, although she's pretty sure she's already figured it out on her own. Raven's been giving her those knowing looks, and those innocent looking looks were sometimes evolving eerily quick into a smirk.
Since the past three or so months. Because Raven thinks she's been helping and that she's being extremely funny when she's perplexing her with her looks. She's not.
Clarke knows that she's being pathetic, but it's not like she can do much about it. Bellamy has a girlfriend.
And then there's Murphy. God help her, sometimes she wants to punch his face. For no real reason, not really, not unless 'I want to hurt him to feel better myself' is a reason enough. For example, when he's doing "The Murphy" or Murphying things, as she likes to refer to it.
She also swears that Murphy has some uncanny ability of knowing things, because he also knows about her crush. That, or he's sniffing out pathetic people, specifically, nose in the air like a fox.
Truth be told, she didn't know she wanted Bellamy, not until long, not until Gina came along.
Of course, she's seen him with plenty of other girls before. Roma or Fox, for example, but none of them was serious. She didn't care that much before, her life was easier then and she didn't feel that she had to care.
Gina is … something different.
She knew that the moment she laid her eyes on her. One day nothing, and then suddenly she just knew. Gina is beautiful and funny and tall and a very likeable person; she'd be damned not to like her, herself. And, she's also a brunette.
Oh hell, how has not she seen this before? Bellamy has a thing for lean brunettes, which also means that she's way out of his league. She's always been.
She is a curvy blonde, just a teeny bit petite (not much, maybe an inch smaller or so), who also finds an inexplicable joy in sass. Or just, you know, having the last word with him.
That's their thing, hers and Bellamy's — the never ending verbal sparring matches until one of them is too tired to carry on.
Before Gina came along, she didn't know that she loved him, as in, she was in love with him. She is in love with him.
They agreed with Murphy that she would go on exactly three dates with him. She could be, maybe, convinced to go on another one, if he's very desperate. But certainly not without Murphy working hard for it; she is, after all, doing a huge favour to him already.
The day of Date #1 arrives sooner than she'd like to. On the other hand, it's better to just get over with it.
So she puts on a pretty dress, her skirt brushing below her knees, moderate, some mascara on her eyes and a little lipgloss. There, that's enough to play her part.
They find a place, somewhere close to the register, but not too close. She has to say, Murphy's planned this well. Emori has a prime view on their table.
"Don't worry, princess. I am going to pay—"
"That's the least you can do, considering you practically guilt-tripped me into this."
"Please." Murphy dismisses her with a swing of his hand, but then adds "And yes, I'm paying, I am a gentleman."
She can't help it, she has to laugh at that. Not that big belly laugh, but a girlish bubbling giggle. Whatever others are saying, she's capable of that, and she didn't even have to fake it.
For an outsider, if she thinks about it, the whole scene — she and Murphy sitting close to each other at a cozy Cafe — does look like a couple on a date. Actually, more than that: a couple on a date having a good time.
"Careful," she's leaning closer, lowering her voice. "I might start to believe that you're actually nice."
Truth is, they are having a good time. They were sort of unlikely friends before. They never said that they were being friends, but she thinks they are.
Emori comes by their table a few times, inquiring if they wanted anything. She cannot really read her; it might be the customary be polite to the guests policy, maybe more. She cannot tell.
The "date" is going fine. She could get used this. Not like in the romantic sense of the word, but she could hang out with Murphy more, even without being coerced into this.
He's a good pal.
Bad for him to be known as the brooding bad boy. But again, some women are into that type of guys.
She only notices later that she's hardly seen Bellamy. Which is good and bad at the same time.
Good, because she's not sure if they could sell this whole "thing", if Bellamy was hovering around.
And bad, real bad, because he's clearly not interested in her date (or in her), at all. He's exiled himself to the back. But who knows, there's a slight chance that he's doing the inventory.
Well, whatever. There's nothing new under the sun. She already knows she's not his type. It still stings a little, she thought they were friends and friends do say hi.
Date #2 is two days later, which is a Thursday.
She wears a different dress this time, neat albeit a little bit shorter, just above the knees, and tighter, because — she would wear something nicer if this was a real date.
30 minutes in, and a latte later, Murphy excuses himself for a bathroom break. A quite long bathroom break, she notices.
It's been over 20 minutes when Bellamy finds her.
She's surprised enough by the fact that he is out, and not in the back, hidden, let alone doing the rounds this time. She also didn't expect him to actually stop at her table or to start a conversation.
"So you and Murphy, huh?" he says, casual.
He's aiming for an indifferent tone, but she also thinks he is overdoing the coolness by a notch. Which is … interesting. Given he's been hiding away in the back for like 99% of the time during her dates with Murphy so far, this one included.
"Yeahhh, you know this is one those things, ahh — one day he was just eewww Murphy, the next he is OHMYGOD Murphy! " she replies, giggling. 'Jeez, this is so not cool, Griffin. Cut it out.'
She has no idea what is happening, honestly. She's trying, but it's not like it's that easy to stop her mouth now, that she's acting this ridiculous. "And he was standing there in front of me the other day and told me he wanted to date me," she carries on, which is technically not a lie, but still feels like one."And I said yes."
He makes a funny face, pondering. "So if I asked you first, you would have said yes?"
She is nervous, so nervous, her brain is suddenly wiped clean.
She cannot decide if there's a hidden meaning behind his words or — anyway, she has to get out of this conversation, and damn Murphy and his 20 minute bathroom breaks.
In her flustered state of mind Clarke's not really sure what to say. "Sure, Bell," she blurts, which, she cannot take it back now. She's just hoping that there's a slight chance, that he hasn't noticed the slip, her calling him Bell. It's not a big deal, really. Octavia calls him that. No big deal, except —it's something intimate. She's never heard anyone else calling him Bell before.
He cocks his head, amused.
To save the day, and also because she still cannot keep her mouth shut, she blurts an unimaginative "So, how is Gina?" on an impulse.
'Well done, Griffin. Well done.'
"Huh," he shakes his head, like shaking a thought away he got lost in a moment ago. "Ahh, she's fine. She's fine, I guess. We broke up, like a month ago."
"Oh, I am sorry," she murmurs. Her eyes are searching the background, before settling on Bellamy "Shit, is this the right thing to say?"
"That's okay, Clarke." He responds with a smile, and that is the moment when Murphy hops down the chair, next to hers. Finally.
Date #3 is a week later, a Friday late afternoon already turning into the night.
She's going all in this time: she shimmies into a tight red dress, mid-thigh. Matching red nail polish and her sky blue eyes are enhanced by the black eyeliner she's decided to put on last minute. Murphy cannot accuse her of not giving in everything she's got. To woo his girl.
This better be working. It's damn time someone to be jealous of her, she needs this confidence boost like fresh air.
Emori doesn't come by their table. Maybe choosing the dress and the eyeliner was an overdo.
She's so gonna regret this, but it's totally her fault and the fault of this stupid dress; and now she's conflicted to offer Murphy another date, by herself. Maybe they should fake a breakup? She's more than happy to publicly end this "romance" with him. Heck, she's even willing to say things like you're insatiable in bed. (He doesn't even deserve this kind of investment from her part. She doesn't like him that much.)
Bellamy comes, albeit looking a little grumpy when he takes their plates. Murphy stands and follows him to the register.
"Blake, thanks for the cakes," she hears him say, and then the oddest thing happens: She sees them fist-bump. Like, buddies. Since when does Murphy has buddies? Maybe it's a guy thing, instead of saying hello or see ya.
She's so lost in that thought, that hardly registers when he adds, casually. "We're outta here. It's my lucky day, if you know what I mean…." and he winks, at Bellamy.
It's so not funny, but Murphy sporting this sultry tone is something that makes her want to laugh.
Except, she wishes for an invisibility cloak or something, she's sure her face and neck is red all over by now; she can certainly feel the hotness spreading everywhere. From shame really, nothing sexual.
Bellamy goes chalk white, which is also an odd sight. (She's going to analyse that later.) Fist-bump or not, Bellamy and Murphy are not friends. Now she's certain about that.
"Griffin, do you trust me?" Murphy whispers into her hair as they prepare to leave.
"I have to think about that, you know—" she has to crane her neck a little to level him with her eyes, but then releases an exasperated sigh.
"Just… whatever happens, roll with it. "
She nods, infinitesimally, then he cups her cheeks with one hand while the other hand tucks a stray blonde curl behind her ear.
She should be nervous, really nervous, but not because she thinks he might lean in to steal a kiss. Something is happening. She can feel it in her bones.
"Okay, then," he whispers, then adds, louder "we're just gonna go — I'am gonna unwrap my present somewhere more intimate…"
They are rounding on the door, when Murphy is suddenly jerked back by a pull on the collar of his shirt.
"If you dare to touch her—" Bellamy growls at Murphy before turning to Clarke.
She must be showing how confused she is, she closes and opens her mouth a few times, like a suffocating fish.
"Pick me, not him," he pleads, his voice soft and a little broken, the full force of his puppy eyes on her.
That does it. She settles on closing her mouth for good.
"I like you. I want to date you, so pick me instead."
"But, you like brunettes," she says with a weak voice, her words sounding even stupid to her.
"You are kidding with me Griffin," Murphy mumbles under his breath, then adds, slowly, whispering through his teeth. "D o n't - - - u p."
"I like blondes!" Bellamy exclaims, pouting.
"Promise?" she asks.
"I'm offended that you have to ask," Bellamy almost laughs, Murphy definitely snorts. Bellamy takes a step, then another, until she finds herself in the exact same position she's been about a minute ago, but now in Bellamy's arms. Her heart returned to this heavy pounding rhythm in her chest, although for totally different reasons this time. She has a good feeling about this.
Murphy slinks away, but not before whispering 'You owe me' in her ears. She thinks she can also see a huge grin spreading across his face, which is a rarity. She cannot tell for sure, though, her eyes are completely focused on Bellamy. Smiling and happy. Smiling at her, for her.
Her face must be showing the same.
'Well played, asshole', she thinks.
This time, though, she doesn't mind his Murphying.
He did this, for her after all, and she was kissing Bellamy for the rest of the day.
Two months later, and the kisses are still the same, hot and sweet, making her dizzy; and she still wants him all the same. Perhaps, she wants him even more.
She's pretty sure he loves her back. But, that conversation can wait.
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End Notes:
Prose is not my forte, so this one is heavy dialogue based, I think it turned out fine.
Also, in my head, Murphy managed to woo the girl (Emori) at Date #2, hence the long bathroom break. And no, Murphy and Bellamy are not buddies yet, it was just a guy fist-bump, without being buddies.
And yes, Murphy totally wanted to end Clarke's misery, by making Bellamy jealous.
I might be doing a series from this. Maybe. If you are nice.