Work Text:
It all started when Murphy and Emori broke up. Again.
If you could really even consider that they had gotten back together in the first place. Negotiations with the representatives from Eligius III had been slow-going at first, but three weeks in, Bellamy and Clarke started waking people from cryo, and Murphy and Emori had been but few of the chosen. By the time they awoke, only the finalizing touches on the treaties had been needed and the official stamp of approval from the little Commander. Three days after waking, there was peace on the new planet, Oasis. Two days after that, Emori and Murphy broke up.
Maybe they just weren’t meant for peacetime, who knows, but as soon as people’s guards started dropping, Eligius and Wonkru mingling with the natives, everyone talking to everyone, it was the Ring all over again for them. Only this time, neither of their hearts ached quite as bad because they hadn’t fully mended in the first place.
On the bright side, the planet was aptly named. Oasis truly felt like a paradise, a haven, and a final gift left for them by Harper and Monty. Everywhere was green and fertile, and the structures that did exist were of a primitive sort. Eligius III had known the harms of urbanization and opted to try to save this planet from the ill fate of Earth, for even when they had left the home planet, Earth was on the decline.
The problem with peace, post break-up especially, was that it left Murphy itching. He wanted something to do, anything, even though his body was still recovering from being shot (even if it was 125 years ago). He got offers every day from Bellamy to stay with the group, with Echo and Emori and Raven and Bellamy, but it was particularly hard to say yes after breaking up with Emori.
His “family” hadn’t felt like one to him in quite a while, if it ever had. Raven was around, but more often than not she was completely absorbed in Shaw. Bellamy always seemed to be pushing for unity, but everything with him was a little off. He was twitchier than usual, and he tensed at any mention of Octavia, but couldn’t help himself from glancing at her or at Clarke whenever one of them came along. Emori was the only one who had felt normal to him at all, and that had lasted all of two days.
Really, it came down to Harper and Monty. They were gone, and whatever had formed up in space wasn’t the same thing anymore. The others were trying to hold on to the string, keep the kite afloat, but Murphy? Murphy knew how to cut a cord.
As easy as it is for him to walk away, it leaves him with the predicament of where to walk to. His brain tells him he doesn’t need anyone, but his heart knows better, and he’s never wanted to be alone, even at his lowest.
And that’s what leads him to Clarke. Because she’s alone too, but he’s not sure that’s by choice. She eats meals by herself, wanders during the day, then comes back at night to sleep in her designated hut (she’s one of the few without a roommate). She’s with Madi occasionally, but more often than not, the tiny Commander has official business to deal with as Indra and Gaia accompany her to this and that meeting with Russell and his government.
At first, he sits with her at meals. Doesn’t even talk, just eats his beans in silence right next to her. He can feel the stares from his friends on his back, but other than that, it’s pleasant.
Then, they talk.
Then, they find out they have more in common than meets the eye.
He’s always gotten Clarke, understood her, far more than the others at least. It’s something he’s known since before Praimfaya, when he begged her not to let Emori die, and that understanding only grew when he returned and saw her on the ground. Isolation is a burden they both know how to carry on their shoulders.
More than anything, their deepest desires are to be a part of something. To have something real, but neither of them know if they can trust it, and neither of them thinks they deserve it. That’s why they’re here with each other, after all.
It’s a connection that forms without them trying to. In their attempts to be alone, they end up alone together more often than not. She likes to chart the land, it’s hilly and expansive, with vines and shrubbery everywhere, and she doesn’t say it, but Murphy thinks doing it reminds her of foraging in Eden. So he comes with. And when the days come that he says he isn’t up to it, she’ll shrug and say she might be too tired anyway, and they play some of the odd card games the Eligius natives have been teaching them. (They’re similar with cards, too, since they’re both incredibly sore losers.)
Sometimes Madi comes by, sits in Clarke’s hut and drinks tea with them, laughs at Murphy’s jokes as Clarke braids her hair, but she never stays long. There’s always more for the Commander to do. And when she goes, Murphy knows exactly which dumb statement will get the wistful look out of Clarke’s eyes.
It’s understanding at its purest, and Murphy’s never really had it before.
And it may have started, whatever their unit was, when Murphy and Emori broke up, but it only escalated because of the Eligius natives.
“You want my beans?” Clarke asks, tilting her half full can toward Murphy.
“Wow, more beans, how could I say no?” He replies sarcastically.
“I want different food, too, but you know what Eligius said, they only have their staples. It’s not Mount Weather, there isn’t any chocolate cake.”
“Why’d we have to land in a vegetarian society? I miss meat.”
“Well, you could see if you could get away with killing something, but I’ve heard that animal poaching is punishable here by death,” she smirks, “not to mention about half the animals emit a poison upon death that could kill you. Your risk to take, though.” She takes back her can and starts back eating her own beans.
All the sound around them is the metal clinking of their spoons against the cans until-
“Murphy! Just the man I was looking for.” The voice is chipper, just a tad too squeaky to sound realistic, and that’s how he knows without turning around that it’s Jeremy, Russell’s son. He’s not a politician, but he is the ambassador between Eligius III and all the newcomers from Earth, so he stops by every so often with a casual greeting and some mindless conversation.
“Hey,” Murphy replies, not nearly as enthusiastic.
“Okay, you’re going to love this.” Jeremy replies immediately, not sensing Murphy’s tone. “A couple days from now is Valentine’s Day, if you’ve heard of it. Bellamy told me it was in the Earth records on the Ark, but that you all had stopped celebrating. Well, as you know, here on Eligius III, we’ve made it our mission to preserve as many Earth holidays as possible, so it’s been a tradition since we landed. Mostly, it’s just a day to celebrate love and couples, so we put on a great party to just be with your partner.”
“Party?” Murphy asks, suspicious.
“Yeah, music, dancing, all the works. There’s stations for couples things of course, you can get a couples’ massage, we have one of our official recordkeeping illustrators take the day off to do portraits, it’s a great event. I thought it’d be perfect for you and your girlfriend.”
And that’s where Murphy sours. “Emori and I broke up,” he grits out.
“Emori?” Jeremy squeaks back, incredulous. “I- I’m sorry, I just assumed you and Clarke- well, see, you spend so much time together.”
His eyes meet Clarke’s immediately and he expects her to be holding back a laugh, because it’s ridiculous. Them? A couple of cockroaches? Yeah, right.
But what he finds in her eyes is contemplation.
Which leads him down a really, really dumb path.
The one where he thinks about Clarke. What he and Clarke have… it’s special, obviously. He’s never felt a connection quite like this before. That’s where his brain starts to doubt himself… is it romantic? Is this new feeling love?
And because she’s Clarke, and he knows Clarke, he knows her brain is going about three stages as fast as his on the same track.
“Yeah, we’ll come.” Clarke responds smoothly.
“Oh, so you are…” Jeremy trails off, unsure how to finish. “Well, I guess I’ll see you guys there.”
Murphy hears him mutter something as he walks away and it sounds suspiciously like, “they’re the strangest ones,” but he doesn’t really have the brain power to process it because something really weird is going on. Murphy is dating Clarke Griffin.
As it turns out, dating Clarke Griffin is weird.
They hold hands in the village now sometimes, but their hands always get sweaty and clammy and one of them ends up letting go.
The first time she calls out to him, “Sweetie?” he nearly faints on the spot, but she’s holding back a laugh and at least that’s normal, so he starts calling her “Sugar” and then he’s “Honeykinz” and it evolves from there. Madi makes gagging noises when she watches them battle with ridiculous pet names.
She got a fruit with her rations today and splits it with him.
So, he disappears for a while and when he comes back, she’s lounging in her hut, nose in some book she’s borrowed from an Eligius III member.
“This is for you.” Murphy holds out what he’s been searching for, a flower, purple-y pink that he knew he’d seen before. It resembled the flowers he’d seen in Eden.
The problem is it had started wilting on the way back, and maybe a few (or most) of the petals had fallen off.
“Murphy, it’s dead.”
“Yeah, that kinda happened when I picked it.” Murphy deadpanned. “Do you want the flower or not?” He snaps.
She rolls her eyes and grabs it, putting it on the nightstand next to her mattress.
“Thanks.”
Romance. They can do romance. This is normal.
It’s not normal. They try to talk about feelings once and Clarke pushes him down a hill. In retrospect, he should’ve seen it coming.
The problem is he still doesn’t know how to define it. Them.
The party is coming up, and neither one of them has said they’re not going, so Murphy guesses they’re still going. Together.
He runs into Emori and that’s almost as weird as dating Clarke because all she does is give him a knowing eyebrow raise and walk away, which doesn’t make sense because how can she know when he doesn’t even know?
He doesn’t think Raven has even noticed, she’s so wrapped up in her own relationship, when she does see Murphy and Clarke holding hands, she doesn’t bat an eyelash, just keeps melting into Shaw’s side.
Echo has stopped making polite conversation with him when they cross paths, since she’s still on the warpath against Clarke and apparently this was the crossed line that officially put Murphy on Echo’s bad side.
Even odder, Bellamy has stopped conversing with him, other than the occasional grunt. He doesn’t get offers to come eat with the group anymore because Bellamy’s always glaring daggers at him, especially when he’s with Clarke.
It’s like he and Clarke have changed the gravitational pull of the planet, and everything’s just slightly off center. Nothing is quite right anymore.
But saying that out loud would mean either one of them admitting they were foolishly mistaken about this… whatever this is, and apparently the only trait more potent in cockroaches than resilience is stubbornness.
They arrive at the Valentine’s Bash hand in hand and are immediately bombarded by the overwhelming sensation of pink. The event is being held in the only real building in the village they’re staying in – a real brick town hall instead of the sticks and mud craftsmanship of most of the other structures.
There are hearts everywhere, red and pink, craftily made from paper and cloth. The floor is covered in petals in some places – the pink ones that Murphy had tried and failed to pick – and Murphy idly wonders is that’s a safety hazard (though he would find it quite amusing if someone slipped on them). There are drinks on the tables, as promised by their hosts, but they’re all a sickly pink hue that makes Murphy wants to stay as far away from the refreshments as possible.
As it turns out, the food and drink is easy enough to avoid since Clarke immediately drags him over to the portrait artist as soon as they walk through the door. (Her strength is a bit unfair, and his arm feels like it was almost pulled from the socket.)
Murphy barely gets a word in as the artist works because Clarke is asking too many questions: how long he’s been working as an artist, what he does as an archivist and illustrator, what mediums he uses: is it just pencil and paper or do they use paints? Watercolors? Acrylics? The artist responds in turn and asks a few perfunctory questions about their relationship and what they’d like for their portrait, but it’s clear Clarke is more interested in the art itself than the fact that it’ll be the two of them covering his canvas.
In a different life, it might annoy Murphy, but he can’t help but feel intrigued and endeared as she spews endless questions and offers her own knowledge of art. Clarke’s hardly ever so animated anymore, and when she is bright like this, particularly with Madi, it never seems this genuine. So his mouth stays shut as they sit and sit, waiting for their portrait to be finished.
When his butt is finally numb, the man tells them he’s done and they can pick up their picture at the end of the night.
He and Clarke are both trying to get some blood back in their limbs when Clarke turns to him and says, “I’m sorry I kind of monopolized that conversation.”
“S’fine.” Murphy replies. “Do you think that’s something you might want to do? The art thing?”
She shrugs. “It’s not really a job.”
“I think that guy you were just talking to for an hour proved otherwise. Seriously, if it’s something you like, why not? It’s not like we’ve got any wars to fight here.”
She snorts. “A comment like that is just begging to be a jinx.”
Murphy smirks. “I once threw one rock and incited a mass riot. What can I say? I have a talent for chaos.”
“You know anyone else would think that’s a bad thing.”
“Well, it’s good I’m not anyone else.”
A shrill voice cuts in. “Murphy, Clarke, I’m so glad you could make it!”
Clarke pastes on her fake smile, so different than the one she’d been wearing while talking to the artist. “We’re happy to be here,” she replies.
“Well,” Jeremy raises an eyebrow suggestively, “There’s no line for the couple’s massage station right now, so if you’d like to go in, now’s the time.”
Murphy blurts out, “I’m not sure-” at the exact same time Clarke goes, “That’s really not necessary.”
To which Jeremy only responds with a guffaw and an, “Oh hush! Don’t feel embarrassed, it’s totally private and very intimate. You guys have had such a hard time on Earth, you deserve to relax!”
They struggle against him as he herds them toward the massage station, but the man is stronger than he looks. He leaves them with a wink as he draws back the curtain and suddenly Clarke and Murphy are standing in front of two masseuses wearing matching smiles.
They’re both dressed in identical pink uniforms, which is so par for the theme, Murphy wants to gag. One introduces herself as Kira and the other as Lena, and they promise that the experience should be relaxing and romantic.
“I know it’s a little weird the first time,” Kira admits, “But Lena and I are trained professionals, and we’re here to help you relax.”
Murphy, for possibly the first time in his life, is a gentleman, and turns his back as Clarke strips down to her “comfort level” (whatever that means) and gets under the covers set on her table.
The weird thing about the massage is that he doesn’t hate it. Nor is it remotely couple-y other than the fact they’re getting massages in the same vicinity. Truthfully, knots are leaving Murphy in places he didn’t even know he was tense. His shoulders feel like heaven and he wants to cry when Kira hits a certain spot in his neck.
For a second, he thinks he really did cry out because he hears it. But… it’s not a cry, it’s a moan.
Clarke is moaning.
Continually.
As in, it doesn’t stop.
She’ll be quiet for a moment, then groan again because it’s “so good.” And Murphy can only put up with so much. Instead of growing relaxed, he feels himself getting tenser and heat rising in his cheeks. How can she not realize the noises she’s making?
“Oh my god, Clarke.” He says finally. “Stop making those noises.”
Her eyes snap open. “What?”
“You’re being… loud.” He finishes delicately.
She narrows her eyes at him. “And that bothers you?”
“The people outside are going to-”
“Since when do you care about what people think?” She snaps.
Murphy sighs and closes his eyes again, “Whatever, then.”
The rest of the massage is spent in silence. Kira and Lena do offer that they know a couple’s counselor on the way out, to which Clarke stifles a laugh and politely declines.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Clarke says once they’re far away enough from the masseuses. “Is this our first fight as a couple?”
“If it was a fight, you’d know I was fighting back,” Murphy replies.
“How about I get some snacks to make it up to you?” She says, kissing him on the cheek and walking over to the table with the snacks Murphy vowed he wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole. His cheek doesn’t tingle the way it did when Emori used to kiss him like that, but he does feel warm.
Clarke leaving for the snack table makes Murphy unfortunately vulnerable to standing alone in the middle of a couple’s event, smack dab in the center of the room. He expects a single guy or gal might walk up to him, he just doesn’t expect it to be Bellamy.
Bellamy’s expression is solemn and no nonsense, which isn’t atypical for Bellamy, but in a time of such peace and festivities, where even Echo is cracking a smile chatting it up with some tall, dark, and handsome guy across the room, he looks out of place with his crossed arms and stern look.
“I hate to inform you, buddy, but I’m here with someone.” Murphy jokes.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Bellamy says gruffly. “I think you should stop what you’re doing with Clarke.”
“Stop it?” Murphy guffaws. “We just started dating. Did you know this is our first event as a couple? I know we probably look so good together, you’d never be able to tell, but-”
“This is the first event on Oasis, jackass.” Bellamy takes a breath. “I’m trying to be serious here, Murphy. I don’t want you to hurt her. She’s been through too much to deal with that.”
“And what if she hurts me? Do I get any concern?” Murphy quips. Bellamy is unimpressed. Murphy sighs and starts again, “Look, you’ve been treating me like something worse than what’s stuck to the bottom of your shoe for the past week. You haven’t even seen us together, and now you’re telling me that Clarke and I will never work. And you’re probably right. I’m dating Clarke fucking Griffin. It just happened. But Clarke and I aren’t trying to be malicious with this. It just… we’re just… I don’t know. Together, I guess.”
Bellamy looks placated to have received a real response, but his eyes are still hard looking into Murphy’s. His voice is one step away from breaking when he asks, “Do you love her?”
That’s when Murphy notices the little things he’d been ignoring about Bellamy up to that point. The quiver in his voice. The rumpled state of his clothes and the way his hair looks mussed like it’s been run through with his hand a thousand times. He’s got one too many shaving cuts on his face. And when did he shave his beard? The only person who likes him clean-shaven is… Clarke.
“Not the way you do.” Murphy finally responds.
With a nod and a clenched jaw, Bellamy walks away.
***
“That’s more than I’ve seen Bellamy talk to you in a week?”
“Yeah, well, he couldn’t stay away when I offer such profound conversation.”
“Profound?” Clarke quirked a brow. “Doesn’t sound like you.”
“Shut up, Griffin.”
“I was about to. I was just coming over to inform you, first, that Russel told me that plant you’re standing under is mistletoe, and you’re supposed to kiss under it.”
Murphy frowns. “Isn’t that a Christmas thing?”
“I’m pretty sure it is, at least according to the Ark database, but I tried to tell Russell and he refused to hear it. Apparently, they’ve been doing it this way for years.”
“Well, are we going to?” Murphy asks, a challenge.
He knows Clarke has never backed down from a challenge.
It’s not slow, like his first kiss with a Mecha Station girl from the Ark when he was thirteen. It’s not fiery, like his makeouts with Emori. She just grabs him by his shirt collar and tugs him her way, and then they’re kissing. And it’s not bad; she’s a good kisser and he’s a good kisser and it makes sense that the kiss is okay, but it’s just so funny. Because he’s kissing Clarke Griffin, and something about that statement is so, so wrong, and that’s when he feels her smiling against his lips and he’s smiling too, and then they’re laughing so loudly they’re drawing the attention of those closest around them, mostly random Eligius and Wonkru members, and one very confused looking Raven.
They’re laughing is deescalating, and the crowd turns back to themselves, but Murphy is still inches away from Clarke’s face when she whispers, still half laughing, “What are we doing?”
“I think we know what we’re doing.”
The smile drops slightly. “What if I don’t want to admit it?”
“Then you’d be part of a match set,” Murphy replies, “but that doesn’t mean pretending is going to get easier.”
Clarke glances around, and Murphy doesn’t have to ask who she’s looking for. Her eyes are drawn to Bellamy’s figure the exact same way his track Emori to where she’s standing in the corner of the room, chatting with some of other singles as she sips her drink.
They’ve both been using each other as an excuse to run away, to hide within the specific loneliness you can only find in a friendship like theirs. They love each other, sure, but not in a way that needs to be said aloud, and certainly not in a way that prompts them to kiss or hold hands or run off into any sunsets together.
“I think you should go for it,” Clarke says, drawing his eyes back to her. “She loves you. And you’ve been trying to stop loving her because you think it’s safer that way, but you can’t, can you?”
“Sound familiar?” Murphy challenges.
“Unfortunately,” She replies seriously, tugging at the hem of her dress.
“I think you should go for it, too.” Murphy softens his tone.
Clarke’s eyes crinkle a little as she dejectedly says, “It’s not the same.”
“Isn’t it? We both ran to each other to avoid the people we actually love. We fooled ourselves into thinking this,” he waves a hand back and forth between them, “could be romantic, because we wanted so badly not to face what we really wanted. I get you, Clarke. And you get me. And that’s why I know you need to go and talk to Bellamy.” He takes a step back from her. “And if you don’t… I’m not going to talk to Emori.”
Clarke narrows her eyes. “And how would that affect me?”
But Murphy just smirks; he knows he’s already won. Because if there’s one thing Clarke Griffin has in spades, it’s compassion. She’s not going to let him miss out on his chance at happiness with Emori because she’s his friend, and she’s a good one at that.
“Well?” He asks after a minute of silence.
“Okay,” She says softly. Then, straightening her back and offering out her hand, “It’s been a pleasure breaking up with you.”
Murphy shakes. “I promise to never date you again.”
She smiles wryly. “Here’s to that.” Then, her eyes whip to the side. “Looks like your girl is leaving.”
Murphy turns his head to see she’s right; Emori is heading for the exit, stopping at a trash can to throw her cup away.
“Go get her,” Clarke says, before turning to walk in Bellamy’s direction.
And that’s all the prompting Murphy needs to run after Emori.
She’s got one foot out the door when he makes it close enough to grab her wrist. “Wait!”
Emori turns to look at him, and it’s so familiar it almost makes him squirm.
For the first time in the night, he really gets to take her in. She’s in jeans and a blouse, and that alone makes him smile because it’s so perfectly Emori. Dresses aren’t her style, and her black boots are the same ones she wears every day.
“John,” she says evenly.
“Hi,” he replies dumbly.
“Did you need something?” She cocks her hip out just a little.
He takes a deep breath. “I’m ready,” he replies, “I’m finally ready.”
“What about your date?” She asks, and he’d think she was being facetious if he couldn’t see the smile pulling at the edge of her lips.
“We decided it wasn’t exactly working. There was someone else. On both ends.”
She grins at him, and when she wraps her arms around his neck and leans in to kiss him, it feels familiar. Like kisses they’ve had before being replayed, safe and warm. It feels like home when he’s kissing her again.
When they break apart, he can’t hold in his curiosity. “How’d you know? From when Clarke and I started… whatever we started, you knew what I was doing, running away from you, but I didn’t even know. And why didn’t say anything?”
Her arms don’t leave their position wrapped around him, but she still answers. “I was jealous at first, Bellamy and I would vent to each other, but by the second day I started really looking at the two of you. You didn’t know how to be together like that at all. And then I thought about it and I thought… well, I thought about Earth. How it must have felt when I told you we couldn’t be together. Back then I was running away from you because I didn’t know how to be with you anymore and because I was scared you couldn’t be the same person in peace that you could be in war. That’s how I realized you were the one running this time, but John,” She paused to nestle her head against his chest. “I love you. And god, I love Raven and Echo and Bellamy too, but I didn’t choose them. We were thrown together by chance. I chose you, John. I’ll always choose you.”
“I’m sorry it took so long for me to choose you back,” he whispers.
“There was a choice?” She teases.
He looks across the room to where Clarke is standing, tucked under Bellamy’s arm as she wraps her arms around his middle.
“No, I guess there really wasn’t.”
As much as the holiday traditions of Eligius start to nag them over the years, like the fact people are always pinching them on Saint Patrick’s Day, or that they’re constantly getting tricked on Halloween, it becomes a Valentine’s tradition for Emori and Murphy and Clarke and Bellamy to double date.
Every year they go to the celebration, leave early, and settle in a good spot to watch the stars together.
And they don’t even need mistletoe.