Work Text:
“Have you eaten today?” Emori asks, walking over to Murphy’s art desk, where he’s drawing something. Murphy seems to not hear her at first, before suddenly comprehending she asked a question.
“Uh, I think so, yeah,” Murphy says, continuing to draw whatever he’s making. Emori looks at the computer in front of him and watches as he picks out a new brush from it, going over to the canvas and adding color to the image. Emori doesn’t understand how he could do these things, He told her it’s a lot of practice, but she decides to keep thinking of him as a God of some sort.
“You think so? What do you ‘think’ you’ve eaten?” Emori asks, leaning against the desk next to him, looking at him. He’s wrapped up in a blanket and leaning back in his comfortable chair as he draws with the tablet in front of him. Every once in a while he clicks one of the buttons on the side and then makes yet another mark.
“Uh- Grapes? I think?” Murphy says, the statement coming out more like a question. Emori turns her head and looks at the bowl filled with grapes on the table. She grabs it and shows him it.
“You mean these grapes? The grapes that are still in the bowl?” Emori says, a bit of sass in her voice. Murphy looks away from the screen and looks at it.
“Oh,” Murphy says, his face slightly crestfallen. Emori sighs and puts down the bowl.
“Come on, let’s take a break and get you some food. There’s leftover spaghetti in the fridge.” Emori offers, knowing Spaghetti is one of Murphy’s favorites. Murphy looks at his art, and then looks at Emori, before pouting.
“But, art-” Murphy says, his voice sad. Emori sighs and grabs his drawing pen from him, which results in Murphy looking at her in utter betrayal. “You evil little-”
“Up,” Emori says, putting the pen in her pocket and waiting for him. He sighs sadly and slowly gets up, the multiple blankets falling off of him.
“Cold.” Murphy pouts, and Emori laughs.
“Of course you’re cold, you’re not wearing a shirt,” Emori says, looking down at him. Murphy huffs and lets his arms fall back to his sides, before smiling.
“Duh, I spent 22 years of my life having to have a shirt on at all times,” Murphy says, stepping over the blankets and moving over to Emori. Emori wraps her arms around him and kisses him softly.
“Yeah, I know. I was there for 10 of those years, don’t forget that.” Emori laughs, and Murphy smiles remembering back to the years of friendship they had.
“Yeah…” Murphy says smiling. He sighs softly and pulls away from the hug, letting Emori pull him over to the kitchen.
“Sit, I’ll get you some food,” Emori says, walking towards the fridge. She opens the fridge, and Murphy turns and opens the cabinet, looking at himself in the mirror on the door. He looks down at his chest scars, and finds himself smiling at them once again. 4 years ago he got the surgery. It was a big step, one that his mother dreaded, but it was needed. He had come out when he was 15, which had not gone over well at all. From then on, he had been waiting. When he was 18, he started the transition process, starting with T shots and working his way up to the surgery, which he got when he was 22.
“John, I told you to sit,” Emori says, a laugh in her voice. Murphy sighs and shuts the cabinet. He walks over to Emori, who just put the food on the table, and he hugs her tight. He would have never gotten anywhere without her, without the love of his life there for him every step of the way. He lost all of his friends when he came out, Except for Emori. Emori stayed, and she introduced him to her other friends, who all immediately took him in as who he was. Nobody ever made a mistake, using his name and pronouns and keeping him up in spirits even when the world seemed against him. Without Emori and his other friends, he wouldn’t be here. He wouldn’t be how he is now.
“I love you,” Murphy says, his voice filled with more love than he could probably ever really express. Emori smiles up and him and kisses his cheek softly, an action that has become their main form of connection since they were kids.
“I love you too.”