Work Text:
Murphy Wishes The City Would Shut Up and Let Him Sleep
Murphy’s phone dings and he looks down at the screen, foggy-minded, from losing focus.
(unknown)
Heeeyj broooeoovs
The fuck, Murphy thinks, stupid drunk assholes.
(Murphy)
You shouldn’t drink, asshole
(unknown)
I’m drunk?
(Murphy)
Do you usually spell like you’re an alcoholic?
(unknown)
Norb
(Murphy)
I’m sure.
Murphy waits a few minutes for a response from the man, and for a moment is satisfied when five minutes have passed and he’s heard nothing. But a couple minutes later his mind starts working and worrying. What if the man passed out? What if he was killed? What if he was hit with a car? What if he’s alone? What if he dies in a pool of his own vomit like his own alcoholic mother ohmygosh he needs to breathe. We need to breathe. Murphy takes a deep breath to regulate his breathing and realizes has no idea when he started to hyperventilate.
(Murphy)
You alright, man?
Dude?
Hey!
HEY!
He types as though screaming through text will do numbers if he’s dead, dying, or unconscious and he realizes that he’s being ridiculous and that the guy probably just went home with friends or something. A couple seconds later Murphy finds himself dialing the guy’s number, listening to it ring twice and then hanging up. What am I doing? He’s a stranger. He could end up murdering me for helping him! Murphy calls his phone again, his heartrate spiking harshly and he knows that if he doesn’t get in contact with he guy he’s going to end up remembering his mother and then blaming himself for this guys death and having a panic attack over the memories and over the current situation all together so that he ends up having a heart attack. He knows he’s overreacting but he still doesn’t care. If someone is helped then potential overreaction is worth it.
The call connects and Murphy breathes out a sigh of relief, “Hello?”
“Washappning? Whoo’re you? You don’ shoun’ like any o’m’friensz.” A man speaks on the other end.
“Good. Thank God. You’re alive! I’m the person you were texting.”
“Ashole.”
Murphy feels his temper spike through the panic. “What.”
“Shwat you called mee on texshting.”
“Oh. Right. Okay. Are you okay? Are you with anyone?” Murphy tries to keep his voice caring, but he really wants to yell at the guy.
“’m aloooone. I wanted to go hooome fer work tchomorrow an’ all m’friens’re at the b-barrr shtill.”
“They let you go home alone?” Murphy is angry again. Stupid drunk assholes.
“Yaaa.” The man lets out a heavy sigh. “’s cooold. I don’ wanna gooo more. I don’ wanna walk ‘nymooore.” Murphy hears sounds of the man rustling and sitting down.
“Hey. HEY. NO. You don’t sit down. You GET UP. HEAR ME?” Murphy knows he’s losing his patience and doesn’t rightly care because this dumbass is so drunk he thinks that sitting in the cold is better than getting out of it.
“Noooooooo.” He hears another sigh. “You’re mean. Are you pretty?”
This question takes him off guard, “What?”
“Are you pretty? Like pretty guysh. Friens say I like mean boysh but that they’rrre pretty.”
“I dunno, man. Where are you? I’ll call you a cab if you aren’t getting up.”
“Outside!”
“I know man, but where, exactly, are you?”
“Ma shishter’sh mean too. She won’ let me meet her boyfrien an’ I on-ly tried to hit him oncshe.
“I’m sure man, but where are you?”
“’rkadia!”
Murphy pauses for a second, incredulous. “Hey, me too. Where are you, man, and I’ll call you a cab. What bar were you at? What street?”
“Dishco Miyke. Hawth’rne shtreet.”
Murphy pauses again and lets out an incredulous laugh.
“Washso funny?”
“I live like a block away.”
“You come take me home?” The man’s voice sounds hopeful.
“I’m going to call a cab. What’s your address?”
“Noooo.”
“No? No what?”
“No caaab.”
“Why not?”
“Don’ wanna.”
Murphy moves the phone away from his face and sighs frustratedly. “Okay. Fine. Where do you live?”
“Why?”
“I need to get you there, don’t I?”
“20285 Roosh’v’lt.”
“You… You only have to walk another block, you dumbass!”
“Don’ yell, pretty boy.”
“Just get up and walk. You will walk right past my window. You live in the building across from me.”
“Too cooold. Don’ wanna walk.” The man’s voice is getting poutier and it’s grating on Murphy’s nerves more and more.
“Coward.” Murphy mutters. He hears clothes rustling and the sound of fidgeting.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking of my jacket.”
“YOU SAID YOU WERE COLD! WHY?”
“’m tired. Wanna sleep. Don’ like shleep’n in m’jacket.”
“You’re going to sleep on the road, you dumbass? Just get up and walk one block!”
“Noooo.”
“Fine. FINE. I’ll come get you. I’ll walk you home.” Murphy rolls his eyes, his voice full of attitude as he throws on his leather jacket over his black t-shirt and steps into his combat boots, not caring about putting on pants over his boxers. It’s not like there are that many people out tonight, and most of them are wearing less than he is. Damn clubbers, he thinks, as though he never goes out to the clubs in skimpy clothing. Just not during exam week.
“Where are yoooou?”
“Just leaving my apartment. Keep your pants on, sheesh.” Murphy mutters to himself, picking up his keys and closing and locking the door behind him. He takes the stairs and is in the lobby in less than a minute.
“Going out in your underwear again, Mr. Murphy?” Jaha calls after Murphy from his office. Murphy doesn’t hate his landlord, he just wishes he’d mind his own damn business every once in a while.
“Of course I am, sir!” Murphy calls back with as much sarcasm as he can muster and Jaha just smiles at him and gives him a wave. He doesn’t think that Jaha understands sarcasm.
“Shiiirrrr? ‘m not that old.” The man on the phone sounds put-out and Murphy thinks he almost sounds adorable.
“I was talking to my landlord. You said you were on Hawthorne right? Outside of Disco Mic?”
“Yaaaa.”
“Okay. I’m on my way over, okay?”
“Yay!”
“So, what’s your name, anyway?” Murphy asks, tucking his free hand into his pocket and pulling his shoulders in against the chilly wind. He wishes that he put on pants.
“Blamy” The voice mutters unintelligibly and Murphy frowns, then shrugs.
“Okay, man. Sure. I’m Murphy, okay? I’m turning the corner onto where you are now, okay?”
“M’kay.”
Murphy pauses for a few seconds, looking around, and he sees a person-shaped lump on the ground with a mass of curly dark hair and a jacket tucked in his arms. “Okay, I think I see you. Can you tell me if you have curly dark hair?”
“Yaaa!” The man’s head perks up excitedly and Murphy finds himself trying to force down a smile at the puppy-like man in front of him. Murphy thinks the man is probably about five years older than him.
“Okay. I’m walking up to you right now, do you see me?”
The man’s head whips around wildly and he almost knocks himself over when he jerks to the right before looking to the left and spotting Murphy. “Yeah! You are pretty and you’re wearing underwear!”
Murphy cringes. “Yep. I’m gonna hang up the phone now, and help you home okay?”
“Okaaay!” The man waves at him excitedly and Murphy sighs, hanging up the phone. He walks towards the man until he’s standing just before him. He crouches in front of him as though he were talking to a child.
“Hey. I’m Murphy. You’re… the guy who called me, right?”
“Yesh! M’Belmy!” The name still doesn’t register with Murphy and he shrugs.
“Sure… man. Okay. Can you get up for me?”
Murphy holds out his hand and the other man’s tanned one reaches out and clasps it in a much firmer hold than he’s expecting. He marvels at how especially pale his hand looks in this man’s giant hand as he helps pull him to his feet. The man is only slightly taller than him when he’s standing straight, Murphy imagines, considering he’s hunched over and his arm is flung across Murphy’s shoulder. Murphy picks up the flannel jacket that the drunk had been snuggling before he can brain himself trying to pick it up on his own. He accidentally inhales the man’s scent and it’s all Murphy can do to stop himself from holding the jacket to his nose and wrapping it around himself so he can be enveloped in that smell. So that he can become that smell.
“Whee!” The man giggles as Murphy pulls his arm slightly harder than he needs to in order to get him to start walking alongside him. Murphy rolls his eyes. He pretty, but he dumb. Murphy thinks to himself.
“Okay, man. You gotta work with me.” Murphy says as the man flings his body away from their apartments and towards the road. “We have to go this way. We don’t want to get pancaked by a car, yeah?”
“Yaaaa.” The man slurs with a sigh. “No pancakesh.”
Murphy shrugs as much as he can under the other man’s weight, but a small smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah, man. No pancakes.”
“Hoooome!” The drunk singsongs when their apartment buildings come into sight.
“Yeah, buddy. Home. If I leave you inside, can you get to your place?”
“Noooo.”
“Why not?”
“Don’ wanna be alooone.” He grumbles.
“I thought you left to get sleep for work tomorrow?”
“Yesh.” The man nods seriously in an affirmative.
“I can’t help you then, man. You need to sleep alone, and I need to sleep for my exam tomorrow.”
“Together!”
I wish, Murphy thinks. “No. We’re still strangers, dude, and you’re drunk.”
Bellamy is let into the lobby, Murphy getting extremely confused looks from the night staff, and Murphy helps him reach his floor, leaving him at the end of his hallway.
“G’niiiite, Murphy.” The drunk pouts.
“Goodnight.”
Murphy is walking back down the stairs, feeling the exhaustion take over his body as he gets a text message.
(unknown)
Neewd keezyxh
(Murphy)
What the hell, man?
(unknown)
Fingerxdf too bigfh
(Murphy)
What?
(unknown)
Needs keeyes
Murphy lets out a long, deep sigh and leans against the railing of the stairwell, stopping his descent.
(Murphy)
Do you not have your keys?”
(unknown)
…
Norb
(Murphy)
I’ll be right there.
Murphy groans, pulling himself back up the stairs. Bellamy is sitting, leaning against what seems to be his apartment door, pouting.
“No keys.” The man says.
“Yeah, yeah.” Murphy hauls him up to his feet again and begins a much more treacherous walk back downstairs with the drunk man that insists on reeling about. They get some more odd looks from night security and the man waves at them before they exit the apartment complex.
They cross the street with the drunk seeming to attempt some kind of dance that minutes ago Murphy would have found endearing, but now makes him want to leave the man in the middle of the road during rush hour. “Woooow! You live shooo cloooshe!” The man’s cheeks are glowing a soft flushed red and Murphy wants to backhand him.
“Yeah, man. Right across from you. You gotta be quiet when we get inside, okay?”
“Yesh.” The man nods.
“Good.” Murphy opens the door to the complex, hoping that Jaha won’t be around.
He doesn’t see him so they make a break for the stairwell.
“Mr. Murphy, a visitor so late? I thought you had an exam tomorrow.” Jaha is watching them from his slightly cracked office door that Murphy thinks also doubles as his bedroom.
“Not a visitor, he just got locked out, sir.” Murphy smiles tightly, pulling the man behind him through the stairwell door.
“Well, have a goodnight, Mr. Murphy.”
“You too, Jaha.” Murphy manages as the door shuts behind them.
“Whosh that?”
“My landlord.”
“He likesh you.”
“Gross.” Murphy wrinkles his nose and drags the man behind him up to his floor.
“Yay! Sleepover!” The man giggles when Murphy opens the door to his apartment.
“No. Sleep. You sleep on the couch. I’ll grab you a blanket. And I’m going to bed.”
“’Kay,” is the man’s response and Murphy shrugs as the man sways his way over to the couch that Murphy vacated in order to peel the stranger off the sidewalk, hanging up the man’s jacket on the coatrack Monty insisted they get.
Murphy goes into his room to grab some blankets and an extra pillow from his closet and stops by the bathroom to grab aspirin and a glass of water just in case. He also grabs the garbage can to leave beside the couch, realizing now that he might have to get a stranger’s vomit out of his carpet in the morning. When he makes his way back to the tv room and kitchen with the supplies, he sees the man passed out on his back across the couch. Murphy grins to himself at how adorable the man looks sprawled out and messy. His shirt is riding up a bit and the portion of tanned stomach it shows makes Murphy’s mouth go dry. He shakes his head of whatever thoughts he thinks he might have and places the water and bottle of aspirin on the coffee table covered in Murphy’s study materials. He wonders for a second how creepy it would be for him to tuck the stranger in, but shrugs. He was cold. I have to be a good host, Murphy thinks. He gently lifts the man’s head and is startled at how soft his curls feel between his fingers as he slips the pillow below his head. He gently places the man’s head back down and pulls the blankets over him, wrapping him up gently so as not to wake him, though Murphy knows that when he’s fallen asleep drunk it is practically impossible to wake him, so the stranger is probably the same. Nonetheless, he doesn’t want a fist in the eye if he’s incorrect in his assumption.
Once the man in tucked in and has aspirin and water, Murphy puts the bucket on the floor next to his head and looks at him for another second, walking away when he suddenly gets the urge to be affectionate and kiss the stranger’s head. Must really be starved for touch, Murphy thinks to himself, a wry smirk pulling at his chapped lips. He climbs into his bed, glad that his roommates are gone for the next few days, having set up camp at the university, and falls asleep surprisingly fast.
He wakes to his alarm that he set too early on purpose because he knew that he’d turn off the alarm and go back to sleep and he’d need a couple wakeup calls. At any other time that would have been accurate, but now, he remembers with a start, that there’s a stranger on his couch. Murphy is officially awake too early and figures that he should at least get ready and maybe cram a few more hours before he has to write the test.
He walks into he kitchen to make some tea and an actual breakfast since he had company who may or may not stay, and the man on the couch manages to stay asleep until Murphy slams the fridge after yanking out the bacon that was wedged underneath Monty’s weird health drinks in a too-small space in the too-small fridge. The puppy-man-stranger jerks up with a start, whipping around, his expression panicked and confused and Murphy leans against the counter with a smirk, arms crossed, waiting for the man to notice him. The movement draws the stranger’s eyes to him and they fly wide open in surprise.
“Oh… Oh God. Did-Did we--?” The man’s stumbling is adorable and Murphy grins.
“You were the best I ever had.” He said sarcastically.
“I was the—what?!” His gaze looks more panicked.
“You were a very gentle and responsive lover.”
“Was that a quote from Timeless?”
Murphy just smirks in response. “Especially when I brought you in off the street and you crashed immediately.” Murphy grins turns wolfish.
“So we… we didn’t?”
“No. We didn’t. Do you want any bacon or eggs? Or maybe tea? Jasper’s not allowed coffee anymore because of his addictive tendencies and, mostly, the day he drank eight cups straight, so we don’t have any coffee in the apartment anymore. Not that I liked the stuff much anyways.”
“Uh… sure?” The man’s voice squeaked, overwhelmed.
“When do you go to work by the way?”
“Excuse me?”
“Last night when I rescued you, you said that you left the bar early because you had to go to work. What time is work?”
“Oh. Uh… 9?”
Murphy stops in his tracks. “You left a bar at 8 because you work at 9 in the morning?”
“Yeah…”
“Coward.” Murphy mutters, cackling. “How do you like your bacon and/or eggs and/or tea?”
“Uh… bacon crispy, eggs sunny side up but I’m not picky about either, so whatever way you planned is good? I like tea with sugar.”
“I’m having them burnt is that alright?” Murphy asks, not turning to look at the man while throwing bacon into a too-hot pan.
“Uhh… yes?”
“Good.” Murphy nods, then turns around to look at the man who has sat up and is looking around the apartment in confusion, rubbing his head. “There’s aspirin on the table with some water if you didn’t drink it last night.”
“Um, thank you.” Murphy was ecstatic to find that the man still had adorable puppy dog eyes while sober.
“Also, what’s your name? I didn’t quite catch it last night through the slurring.”
“Bellamy.”
“Cool. Not sure if you remember, but I’m Murphy. Let me know if you need me to fill in anything that happened last night.”
Bellamy’s eyes seem to widen though as soon as Murphy says his name as though it triggered the evening back into his memory. “Oh fuck.”
“Yeah. Fuck.” Murphy laughs.
“Why did you come outside in your underwear?”
“You were desperate for me to come outside and I didn’t want you to freeze to death or die in a pool of your own vomit.”
“That’s oddly specific.”
“It’s also oddly possible. You took off your jacket before I got there and you said you were planning on sleeping there.”
“Ugh.” The man – Bellamy – groans, dropping his head into his hands.
“So, tell me. Do you really think I’m pretty?” Murphy cackles, continuing his cooking.
“Shut up.” Bellamy chuckles softly, blushing slightly. He pauses for a second. “I can’t believe you actually came and got me last night. And that you believed my drunk ass when I said I didn’t have my keys.”
“I didn’t.” Murphy smirks. “I was just afraid you’d cry or follow me home anyways.”
Bellamy laughs. “Probably. And to answer your question, yes. I think you’re pretty. I’ve seen you around the area before. And I can see into your apartment from mine.” Bellamy’s face is red and embarrassed.
“Stalker much.” Murphy laughs, pulling the food off the heat and putting on a kettle.
“Unfortunately, more than I would like to be.” Bellamy cringes.
“What does that mean?” Murphy grins.
“It means… I may know people who are friends with your friends, and they gave me your phone number to use and I kept thinking it would be creepy to call you if you don’t know who I am. So, I apparently call up cute strangers to save me when I’m drunk.”
Bellamy looks sheepish and Murphy thinks he should be weirded out by the confession, but he feels strangely flattered. “Now don’t go expecting me to come to your rescue all the time. I’m but a poor university student with three roommates after all.”
“Sounds good.” Bellamy laughs. The kettle starts shrieking and Murphy pours tea for himself and Bellamy, puts the pans on the table and grabs a couple plates. Bellamy gets up, the blanket falling away and revealing his tight t-shirt enveloping his sculpted body. Murphy drools a little and turns to grab a couple forks and spoons out of the cutlery drawer. He watches as Bellamy scoops himself some food and takes his first few bites of the surprisingly not burnt eggs, and the burnt to perfection (in Murphy’s eyes) bacon.
“How is it?” Murphy asks, serving his own food.
“It’s good.” Bellamy smiles, and Murphy thinks he sees his eyes sparkle a little bit and he thinks he might still be dreaming.
Once they finish their breakfast and conversation, Murphy excuses himself and tells Bellamy he can make himself comfortable until he has to go if he wants. Bellamy agrees and Murphy takes a quick shower and puts on his favourite outfit – a black t-shirt and black jeans – and decides to let his hair dry naturally (when his mother was coherent and not an abusive alcoholic stereotype, she used to tell him she liked it the most when his hair was natural). Murphy makes his way out of his bedroom prepared to ask Bellamy if he wants to use his shower before stopping in his tracks when he sees him poring over his textbooks and notebooks spread all over the table. Bellamy looks up, hearing Murphy enter. “Poetry?” He asks.
“Uh. Yeah.” Murphy blushes softly. “English with a concentration in poetry. I just… like poetry.”
“That’s awesome!” Bellamy grins at him. “I graduated with a History degree with a concentration in ancient mythology. I understand the need to defend yourself. People just don’t understand.”
“Yeah…” Murphy nods, still wanting the conversation not on his schooling or his poetry. “So, what do you do now, then?”
“I teach mythology courses sometimes. I got my masters two years ago. I also curate at a museum, particularly in the mythological art department.”
“Oh! That’s really cool! So which one are you doing today then?”
“I’m guest lecturing for history extra credit at the college a couple blocks over.” He smiles.
“Okay! That’s the college I go to. I’m graduating this year, after my exams.” Murphy flings his arms towards his study materials.
“That’s great!” Bellamy grins excitedly. “I feel less uncomfortable about liking you now that I know you’re at least graduating.” He winks.
Murphy feels himself blushing. “I feel less awkward about thinking you’re hot now that I know you’re only a couple years or so out of your Masters degree.”
They grin stupidly at each other for a few moments before Bellamy’s phone alarm starts screaming. He rushes to turn it off. “I suppose that’s my cue to go... I guess I’ll see you around the college today?” His eyes are hopeful.
Murphy smiles. “I guess you will.”
Bellamy starts to make his way out of his apartment after grabbing his jacket, then pauses just outside the door. Murphy’s about to close the door, when Bellamy asks, “Since you have my number now, and I have yours, would you be okay with keeping in contact?”
“I’d like to.” Murphy’s smile grows.
Bellamy walks a couple steps, then pauses again. “Do you want to go for lunch with me today? Or dinner? Or for something tomorrow? As a date?”
Murphy’s smile deepens into a grin. “Dinner sounds nice.”
“How about at that stir-fry place a couple blocks away?” Bellamy’s eyebrow quirks up hopefully and he’s gnawing on his lip.
“It’s a date.” Murphy thinks his eyes are sparkling now, too.