Chapter Text
When Bellamy leans back against the wall and starts to doze off, Murphy crawls over to the adjacent wall. He curls up on his right side-because Bellamy had dropped him on his left shoulder- and presses his back to the wall, staring at the doorway and stairs that lead to the bunker below.
It feels like an agonizing amount of time that Murphy’s left on his own. Because while Bellamy gets to pass out, Murphy can’t. He can’t be here.
But eventually Bellamy does stir, groaning as he groggily blinks open his eyes. He rubs at his head, plagued by a gnarly headache. Then he remembers what occurred just minutes ago and looks over to Murphy, who’s looking rather worse for wear.
Bellamy’s not sure if Murphy’s aware he woke up, because the kid isn’t looking at him, but rather the doorway.
“Murphy… you alright?”
“ ‘m fine.”
“Okay…” Bellamy’s not convinced, but he’s not sure if he wants to unpack… Murphy right now. He stands, grunting as he stretches before shucking off his suit. He gives Murphy a look and sighs, “I’m gonna check the place out, see what could be useful.”
“There’s nothing here.” Murphy mutters flatly, remembering the state he had left the room in.
Those words make Bellamy pause, one foot already on the first step, “What do you mean?”
“It’s trashed.. I trashed it.. nothing left..” Murphy curls up tighter on himself, burying his face in his arm. Of course he’s somehow responsible for their doom. If he hadn’t gotten stuck in here before, the place would still be clean and stocked with supplies.
The defeat in Murphy’s voice makes Bellamy frown. He’s not used to the younger being so put out, “I’m sure there’s some stuff that can be salvaged. I’ll be back.” He felt the need to reassure the other that he’s not going to stay down there the whole time. At least not until Murphy comes down as well.
Upon entering the main room, Bellamy can confirm that the place is indeed trashed.
He starts scavenging anyway, cleaning up as he goes. There’s trash everywhere, food cans and wrappers and broken glass. Even the furniture seems to be in disarray for no apparent reason. He nearly falls as he trips over a pistol lying on the floor, sending it flying under the couch.
Bellamy grunts as he gets on his hands and knees to retrieve the gun. He gets a sinking feeling in his gut when he finds it loaded, only missing one bullet, and without the safety on. He unloads it, pocketing the bullets for now. He places the gun on a side table, that’s when the camera catches his eye.
Curious, he grabs it and starts fiddling around until it turns on, surprising Bellamy as it automatically connects to the tv. A man Bellamy doesn’t recognize sits on the couch he just retrieved the gun out from under, clearly distressed.
Murphy’s eyes widen when he hears the first second of the audio playing. He scrambles on his hands and knees to get to the top of the steps, “Turn that off!”
Bellamy jumps, taking a moment to process the words before he starts looking for the mute button.
Murphy’s heart starts racing. He can’t take it anymore. He doesn’t want to listen to that guy dying over and over again. He shrieks, “Bellamy!”
Bellamy jabs the mute button harder than necessary in his hurry. Murphy sighs and flops over onto his side.
As Bellamy starts to wonder why the audio alone got that reaction out of Murphy, he gets his answer when the guy shoots himself in the chest. Bellamy stares for several seconds before he makes to turn it off. But then Murphy is suddenly on screen.
He freezes. He can’t hear what Murphy’s saying, but as clip after clip plays, it’s clear the kind of mental state he ended up in.
Bellamy turns it off before he reaches the end, not wanting to invade Murphy’s privacy anymore than he already has. He places the camera and gun in the cabinet the tv stands on. Then he gets to work tidying up.
He shuffles the trash, wrappers, glass, and all, into a pile by the trash can, which is already overflowing. Then he moves the furniture around to look more presentable, though likely not how it was originally arranged. Finally, he starts looking through cabinets to take inventory and checking the facilities.
There is indeed nothing. Besides several bottles of wine along the wall, not the best option. He does consider it a good sign that there’s still running water and working electricity, though he can’t be certain for how long.
But there’s no food.
Bellamy takes a deep breath, chooses to not worry about it, and releases it.
He notices a door and doesn’t hesitate to enter it. He’s surprised to see that it looks pristine, not a single thing out of place. Murphy certainly didn’t enter here.
The bed is made, blankets soft to the touch. There’s an open closet with a wide range of clothes. A motorcycle for some reason. A couple of guitars. And a nice fucking shower.
God, Bellamy wants a shower.
He walks back and jogs up the steps, stopping when he finds Murphy now curled up at the top of them.
“Murphy.”
He glares up at Bellamy, “Did you find food?”
The latter winces, “No. But there’s a shower.”
“So?”
“We need showers.”
“What good is a shower? We’re gonna die in here.”
Bellamy scowls, “Alright.” He grabs the younger by the shoulder and pulls him into a sit, unzipping his radiation suit and manhandling him out of it, “That’s enough of that.”
Murphy grunts as he kicks and swats at the other, “Let me go! Quit grabbing at me!” He tenses up and flushes when, in an attempt to keep Murphy from falling on his face, Bellamy wraps an arm around his waist. His hand rests where hip meets thigh.
Murphy instinctively kicks a leg back, nailing Bellamy in the face. They both go tumbling down the stairs.
Both of their worlds spin and collide, pain emitting with every impact. Then they come to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. Murphy groans and lifts his head up. Bellamy is on top of him. “Get! Off! Of! Me!” He punctuates each word with a weak punch to Bellamy’s back.
With a groan, Bellamy gets up on his hands and knees, side-eyeing the boy before he fully stands. Murphy sits up and looks around the room, his demeanor quickly changing.
He scoots back until his back hits a wall, tucking his knees to his chest as he glares at the room. It makes Bellamy frown, “Come on, you can’t do that.”
He tries to help Murphy stand, but it makes him lash out, “Don’t fucking grab me!”
Bellamy’s patience snaps. He grabs Murphy and carries him like a fussing child, taking him into the bedroom and dropping him onto the bed.
Murphy huffs and gets back into his position, knees to his chest and arms around them. Bellamy narrows his eyes and places his hands on his hips. They stare at each other for a while.
“We need showers.”
“Take one then.”
“I said we .”
“I don’t care.”
Silent staring again. Shorter this time, broken by Bellamy as he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose while pacing, “I know you don’t like this-”
“No shit.”
“But we’re here. We work with what we’ve got.”
He stops his pacing to look at Murphy, “We don’t have food, but we do have water. We can survive about a month if we take care of ourselves. Maybe even longer.”
Murphy stays silent.
Bellamy squats to get on Murphy’s eye level, “Do you really want to die here?”
“Obviously not.”
The older places a hand on Murphy’s shoulder and squeezes, “Then pull yourself together. I can’t do it for you.”
Murphy shoves his arm off and stands from the bed, glaring at him. Then, “One moment.” He marches out of the room and closes the door. Bellamy furrows his brows. They shoot up as he hears Murphy let out a guttural scream.
Murphy opens the door and steps back into the room.
“You know I could-”
“Yeah, I know. Showers. Sure. Let's do that.”
Bellamy stares at Murphy for a handful of seconds before sighing, “Yeah, alright.”
He walks over to the closet and starts flipping through clothes, “Come pick out what you’ll wear.” Murphy silently follows suit, struggling to find clothes that fit him. He settles on clothes that are too big but at least won’t drown him.
“So, are you showering first?”
Bellamy pauses, considering, “Actually…. It may be best if we shower at the same time.”
Murphy whips his head to glare at Bellamy, turning red, “WHAT!? NO! No way am I showering with you, you freak!”
The other looks at him, unamused, “I didn’t say it like that. I’m just thinking we should try to conserve water, just in case.”
“One second you’re saying we could survive this because we have water, the next you’re trying to get me in the shower with you!”
Bellamy scrubs his hands over his face, trying to remain calm, “I’m not being a perv towards you, you know that.”
Murphy pauses, scowling. He does know that. Right? He knows Bellamy. Knows him better than any of the other 100. He knows Bellamy hung him. That he risked his life to save his friends, which include Murphy for some reason.
He knows how Ontari would corner him. He knows Bellamy never asked about his time at Polis. He doubts Clarke talked about it. She had more important people on her mind. He probably doesn’t know.
Bellamy eyes him, noting his silence, “Look, if it really makes you that uncomfortable, I can forgo the shower for now.”
“No…”
“... No?”
“I didn’t even want the shower. Why give it to me?”
“Temporary spout of hysteria.”
Murphy snorts, surprising both himself and Bellamy. He rubs under his eyes with the back of his hands, “No… no. We can both take the damn shower.” He points at Bellamy threateningly, “Just no funny business. I’ll shank you.”
They pile into the bathroom, staring at the shower.
“So, how’re we gonna do this? I don’t want you lookin’ at me.”
“You can look at me if you want.”
Murphy elbows him in the ribs, face red again.
Bellamy grunts, “I take that as a no.”
“Asshole.”
“Bastard.”
“...”
“We can get in there clothed. Face away from each other, undress and toss the dirty clothes out.”
Murphy picks at the skin around his nails anxiously, “Sure.”
Bellamy steps in first, facing the shower head and knobs with his back to Murphy. Said boy sighs before stepping in as well, turning away from Bellamy and pulling the glass shower door closed.
“I’m in…” He mutters. He hears Bellamy starting to strip so he distracts himself by taking his own shirt off. Then a different piece of fabric falls on his head.
“You- You dropped your sweaty-ass shirt on my head!”
“Sorry,” he doesn’t sound sorry.
Murphy huffs before tossing both shirts over, seeing as Bellamy’s pants and underwear go flying as well. He might pass out if he flushes any more.
“Are you done?”
“No! I still have my pants on.”
“Well, you can’t shower in those.”
“Shut up.”
He pulls his pants and underwear down, tossing them out aggressively, “There!”
The other hums, “I’m thinking we can use the warm water. It’s not like we’ll be showering often.”
“I like warm water…”
“Then it’s decided.”
The water comes on, and barely any of it reaches Murphy. “You’re hogging it.”
“Oh,” Bellamy scoots forward, “Better?”
Murphy takes a tentative step back and sighs as the water hits his shoulders, “Yeah.” He tilts his head back to let it soak his hair.
Bellamy focuses on rinsing his body first, wanting to get rid of all the sweat.
They rinse and soak in silence before Bellamy reaches for the shampoo, soaping up his own hair before handing the bottle over to Murphy.
Said boy takes the bottle with a hum, using a bit more than necessary as he vigorously scrubs at his scalp. He hates the feeling of dirt and grime in his hair. It reminds him of all the sand that got in his various orifices during his shit trip with Jaha.
He’s rinsing his hair out when Bellamy’s moved on to washing the rest of his body. The older shifts, and Murphy tenses up.
“Your ass just touched my ass! I’m filing a sexual harassment complaint.”
Bellamy snorts, going along with it, “Who are you filing it to?”
“Upper management.”
Bellamy rolls his eyes, “And who, pray tell, is upper management?”
“... Megatron.”
“Ok, I don’t even know what you’re saying anymore.”
“ Megatron. ”
“That doesn’t help.”
Murphy clicks his tongue, now washing the rest of himself, “He’s like... a big ass robot. Who could definitely squash you for sexually harassing me... He’s from one of the shows I watched in here.”
The other hums, “He’s one of the good guys?”
“Nope. He’s the leader of the bad guys.”
Bellamy can’t help but smirk, “Of course he is. Why do you like him?”
Murphy shrugs, despite Bellamy not seeing it, “I dunno. But I like his second in command better, Starscream. He’s an annoying freak. He’s great.”
“An annoying second in command freak?”
“Pretty much.”
“Isn’t that just you?”
“..... I will fucking kill you.”
Bellamy laughs.
Once they’re both fully rinsed, Murphy’s the first to step out and get dried off.
The boxers he found thankfully fit. The t-shirt and sweatpants are on the bigger side, making him seem smaller than he really is. But he doesn’t mind. It’s comfy.
“I’m walking out,” he mutters before doing just that.
Bellamy takes a bit longer getting dried off, trying to get as much water out of his hair as possible. The briefs, t-shirt, and shorts he found are pretty much his size. He pads out, pausing when he sees Murphy standing in the middle of the bedroom, spaced-out.
He takes a couple steps closer, murmuring, “Hey…”
Murphy’s gaze snaps to Bellamy. He stares for a couple moments before muttering, “What now?”
“Hmm… Well… I think some actual sleep could do us good. We can share the bed.”
“No.”
“Murphy-”
“I don’t want to be in here.” He bites out. He can’t be in here. He’ll destroy it like the rest of the bunker.
Bellamy holds a breath for a handful of moments before sighing heavily, “Alright. There is a couch out there.”
“I know.” He murmurs quietly, almost too soft to hear, as he pads into the main room and curls up on the couch.
Bellamy follows a few seconds later, tossing a blanket and pillow onto Murphy and shutting off the lights before retreating back into the bedroom.
Murphy grumbles before eventually situating the items, cocooning himself on the couch.
He stares at the tv across from him. He can just barely make out his reflection in the dark.