Chapter Text
“OCTAVIA! IF YOU DON’T GET OUT OF THE BATHROOM WE’RE GONNA BE LATE FOR FIRST PERIOD AGAIN!”
Bellamy bangs his fist on the restroom door, again, for the fifth time, and sighs in exasperation, allowing his forehead to rest against the surface. He doesn’t understand how girls can spend two hours in front of a mirror and look almost exactly the same as before. Why couldn’t he just have a brother? Octavia opens the door a moment later and Bellamy stumbles through the threshold. “Please find some fucking chill, big bro.”
He purses his lips. “I am the epitome of chill. You’d better not let Pastor Blake hear you talk like that, demon child.”
Octavia laughs, rolling her eyes. “Epitome? Don’t be such a nerd.” Bellamy shrugs and reaches for the toothpaste. “Bell, why do you always call him that? Just call him Caleb. Or, you know. Dad.”
Bellamy mumbles around the toothbrush in his mouth. “We’ve talked about this before, O. Caleb’s not my dad.” He spits into the sink. “Come on, we gotta go.”
The siblings bound down the stairs and snatch their backpacks from the kitchen table. Their mom presses a kiss to both of their foreheads with a smile, handing them each an apple. “Have a good day, you two.”
“Thanks, mom.” Bellamy takes a bite of the apple before grabbing his car keys and dashing towards the front door. He grunts at Octavia, who is still examining her reflection in the hallway mirror, smoothing down the skirt of her uniform. “O! Hurry up!”
They hear Aurora call out before the door slams shut. “Don’t speed, Bellamy!”
***
Bellamy swings his silver Jeep into the parking lot behind a building with the words ‘Saint John’s Lutheran High School’ etched elegantly into stone above an ornate wooden door. Intricate stained glass murals of Jesus decorate either side of the doorway. Bellamy may have mixed feelings about religion, but he can still appreciate the beauty of the school’s architecture.
He slips into his homeroom class a minute before the bell rings and drops his bag on his assigned desk in the back of the room. Bellamy pulls out a notebook and pencil as the teacher begins taking attendance. The boy to his right leans over, lightly smacking his arm. “Dude, you were almost late for, like, the third time this week.”
“Trust me, Miller. I’m well aware.” Bellamy rolls his eyes. “Octavia takes forever to get ready.”
Bellamy’s best friend scoffs and offers a sympathetic smile. “Girls. Can’t live with ‘em. Can’t kill ‘em.” Bellamy chuckles a little too loud and the teacher clears her throat pointedly, peering over her small, wire-framed glasses with tight lips and narrowed eyes. Her dark auburn hair is pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head and Bellamy thinks she resembles a vulture. He slides down in his seat.
After a moment of annoyed silence, the teacher finishes her roll call. “Alright, we’ll start with a quick prayer and continue on with the reading from yesterday. Would anyone like to— can I help you, young man?” The entire class turns around to face a thin, pale boy with messy brown hair leaning casually against the doorframe.
The first thing Bellamy notices about him are his eyes; they’re very large and wide set, but half-lidded as if he’s already bored. His irises are a beautiful shade of cornflower blue that piques Bellamy’s interest immediately. The boy scans the room slowly, uninterested.
The second thing Bellamy notices is that the boy’s uniform is, well, hardly that at all. He’s got his jacket slung over his left shoulder and the sleeves of his white button-down shirt are rolled up to his elbows, not to mention the top few buttons that are undone, exposing his prominent collarbones. The standard blue and silver striped tie hangs completely untied from his neck. A studded belt glints around the waistband of his light grey slacks which are tucked haphazardly into chunky black combat boots. Bellamy observes the spiked leather bracelet on his right wrist when the boy runs a hand under his nose and sniffs. “Yeah, the dude at the main office told me to check in at B105 for homeroom with…” He looks at something scribbled on the palm of his hand. “With Ms. Novak.”
The teacher’s eyebrows shoot up, her lips parted slightly, and if Bellamy is being honest, it’s the first time all year that she hasn’t looked like she’s been sucking on a lemon wedge. She composes herself quickly and motions to the room with a sweeping hand. “Well, you’ve come to the right place; I’m Ms. Novak. You must be—”
“Murphy.” He pops his bubblegum loudly and stares, unblinking.
“Murphy. Of course.” Ms. Novak clasps her hands together. “You can take the open seat in the corner, next to Mr. Blake. But I’ll need you to spit out your gum first, please.”
Murphy blows a bubble, smirking when it pops. “Spitters are quitters.” He makes a show of swallowing his gum instead and dropping into the chair to the left of Bellamy. When he realizes he’s been gawking, Bellamy swivels his head to the right and cocks a questioning eyebrow at Miller, who merely shrugs.
Ms. Novak remains silent for a few seconds, unsure of the events that just took place. She blinks, unfolding her hands and retreating behind her desk. “Right. As I was saying, I need a volunteer to start today’s prayer. Anyone?” Nobody offers, so Ms. Novak smiles and gestures to Murphy. “Mr. Murphy, since it’s your first day, why don’t you begin?”
“Don’t know any prayers, Miss.” His voice is flat and indifferent.
“That’s quite alright, it doesn’t have to be a formal one. Perhaps just talk about something you’re grateful for.”
Murphy grins mischievously before pressing his palms together and closing his eyes. He’s theatrical, to say the least. “Dear God.” The class giggles and Bellamy attempts to hide a smile as Ms. Novak shushes. “I’m grateful that, despite being stuck in this hellhole, I get to sit next to the hottest piece of ass I’ve laid eyes on in awhile. Good lookin’ out, fam.”
The teenagers erupt into laughter but Bellamy doesn’t even register what Murphy has said until Miller leans over to ruffle his curls with a shit-eating grin. Bellamy feels his face get hot and he glances back at Murphy, who’s staring forward with a smirk, already sticking another piece of gum in his mouth. As Ms. Novak smacks a ruler on her desk to get the class to quiet down, Murphy turns his head slightly towards Bellamy, winks, and blows another bubble. Bellamy snaps his attention to the front of the room, sure that his entire body is blushing.
“Mr. Murphy, I’m going to have to ask you to leave my classroom. Wait in Principal Kane’s office so I can have a word with you after class.” Her voice is brimming with thinly veiled rage.
Murphy slides out of his desk, limbs loose, and exits the classroom with a half-assed salute. His movements are like fluid. “Whatever you say, Miss.”
The strange boy is gone as quick as he came and Bellamy shakes his head in disbelief? Confusion? Frustration? He’s not exactly sure which emotion has him dizzy and flushed. He wipes his sweaty palms on his pants and struggles to focus on the words Ms. Novak says for the rest of the period.
***
When lunch rolls around, Bellamy has almost completely forgotten the incident in homeroom. Well. Sort of.
Not at all, really, but that’s what he tells himself anyways.
He plops down at a table between Miller and Octavia with a tray full of food and a silent prayer that his best friend will keep his mouth shut about Murphy. The prayer is in vain.
“Guys.” Miller leans in to the center of the table and flicks his eyes around the cafeteria, then lowers his voice. “You will never believe what happened in Ms. Novak’s class this morning.”
Everyone else at the table falls silent instantly, sharing curious grins. It’s rare that anything happens at St. John’s that’s worthy of gossip. The blonde on Octavia’s other side bites into her banana and talks through a mouthful of food. “What, did she finally lose her shit? I told you it was only a matter of time. Think that bun is too tight, it’s cutting off circulation to her brain.” She makes a twirling motion with her index finger next to her ear.
Bellamy tries and fails to hide his disgust. “Clarke, can you act like a normal human being for three seconds and swallow before you speak?” Clarke sticks her tongue out at him like she’s twelve, and he returns the sentiment with a giggle, like he’s twelve.
Miller waves his arms to draw their attention back in. “All of you shut up. So we’re sitting there getting ready for the morning prayer when this kid shows up at the door. He looks like a weird cross between a greaser and a twink.” Bellamy almost chokes on an orange slice.
“Miller!” Bellamy gives his best friend a warning glare and jerks his head towards his sister. Miller and Octavia roll their eyes simultaneously.
Octavia responds distractedly, typing on her phone. “I know what a twink is, Bell.” He makes a mental note to never ask where she learned that.
One boy with dark wavy hair and a wide-eyed expression leans further into the discussion, attempting a whisper. “What’s a twink?” The table groans collectively.
“You’ll learn when you’re older, Jasper.” Bellamy feels like a babysitter. “Miller, I don’t think—”
He’s cut off mid-scold. “As I was saying, he looks like some rebel wannabe. Says his name is Murphy, and that he’s there for homeroom. Ms. Novak asks him to start the prayer and when he says he doesn’t know any, she basically tells him to wing it.”
Octavia sets her phone down, now as enthralled as the others. “That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”
Miller smiles, nodding his head slowly as he recalls the memory. “Oh, it was. And get this, he goes ‘Dear God. I’m grateful that, despite being stuck in this hellhole, I get to sit next to the hottest piece of ass I’ve laid eyes on in a while. Good lookin’ out, fam.’ and Ms. Novak flips. Sent him to Kane’s office for the rest of class. We haven’t seen him since, actually.”
Six stunned faces gape at Miller, including Bellamy’s. He didn’t think Miller would remember word for word what Murphy had said. The other girl at the table twirls the metal charm of her necklace in her fingers and furrows her brow. “Wait, who was he talking about? The hot piece of ass?” Miller glances at Bellamy momentarily. His eyes are wide and pleading and he hopes for once in his life that Miller will just shut the fuck up.
“Well, Raven, apparently he was referring to our very own Bellamy Blake.” Miller claps him on the back with a smirk and Bellamy presses a couple fingers to his temple. It takes all of his strength and willpower not to throttle his best friend in the middle of the lunchroom.
The small boy to Miller’s right brushes his jet black hair away from his eyes. “What did you say he looked like again?”
Bellamy grimaces. This is getting really out of hand. “Monty, don’t encourage him.”
“Like he’s trying to be punk but also like he’s the poster boy for gay teen porn.” Bellamy covers his face with his hands and groans. Miller shrugs. “What? It’s true. I mean, I would know.”
Monty blushes, but ignores the comment and points to the doors of the cafeteria instead. “So…like that?” Everyone whips their heads in the direction Monty is looking, straining to see. Bellamy thinks they couldn’t be more obvious if they tried.
Principal Kane stands by the room’s entrance with his hand on Murphy’s shoulder as he undoubtedly delivers one of his infamous motivational speeches. Murphy looks the same as this morning, chewing bubblegum and wearing as little of his uniform as possible. In fact, the only thing about him that has changed is his expression which, while still stoic, seems much darker than before. Murphy nods begrudgingly at whatever Kane says, then follows him as he heads…directly for their table?
The seven of them panic briefly while trying to appear like they hadn’t all just been watching the exchange with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns. Kane either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. He stands by their table, Murphy at his heels, and greets the group with a friendly smile. “Hope all of you are enjoying your day so far.” He waves an explanatory hand over Murphy. “This is Mr. Murphy. He’s going to be attending St. John’s from now on. Murphy, this is Octavia, Clarke, Raven, Jasper, Monty, and Nathan.” They each offer a quick nod or wave for Kane’s benefit. “I believe you’ve already met Bellamy.”
Murphy shrugs. “Yeah, well, ‘met’ is a strong word.” Bellamy suddenly becomes very interested in his empty milk carton.
Kane pauses and counts to ten, Bellamy assumes. “Bellamy, Octavia. Say hello to your new stepbrother.”
Bellamy blinks dumbly, sure that he has misheard something. Octavia’s jaw drops, but Miller is the first to break the silence. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”
Kane glares in his direction. “Watch your language, son.” Miller ducks his head sheepishly.
Bellamy didn’t think it was possible, but Murphy looks about three shades paler than before. He grabs Kane’s arm, apparently just as surprised as the rest of them. “What are you talking about?” Bellamy takes a second to appreciate the first expression he’s seen on Murphy’s face that isn’t one of complete apathy. “I thought that—”
“The plans have changed. Mr. and Mrs. Blake kindly agreed to let you stay with them until further notice. You’ll get a ride with Bellamy and Octavia after school.” Kane addresses the rest of the group with overstated authority. “I want you all to show Mr. Murphy around; make him feel at home. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must return to my office for a meeting.” He turns and exits the cafeteria, leaving Murphy with his mouth agape. Bellamy notes the way Murphy’s hand shakes when he combs his fingers through his hair.
Jasper wastes no time engaging Murphy in conversation. “So, what did you do to wind up here? Did you get kicked out of your other school?” His dopey smile fades and his eyes widen slightly. “Are you a criminal?” He receives an elbow to the ribs and a disapproving glare from Raven.
Murphy screws up his face in confusion. “No, I’m not a criminal. The people that were supposed to be my foster family live in this school district, so…” He trails off, clearly not wanting to explain any further and thankfully, Jasper gets the hint. Unfortunately, his next topic of choice is just as tactless.
“Is Murphy your real name? It’s pretty weird.” Bellamy covers his eyes with a hand, trying to avoid having an aneurysm as Clarke politely reminds Jasper of the talk they had about thinking before you speak.
“That’s because it’s my last name.” Murphy rolls his eyes, and Bellamy swears he can actually see Murphy mentally stopping himself from ending his response with an insult. Their task of ‘making Murphy feel at home’ is clearly off to a great start.
“What’s your first name?” Monty’s attempt at a friendly interaction is far better, which surprises no one, but Murphy only answers by blinking slowly.
“Come on, tell us! We won’t laugh, promise.” Octavia does her best pout and Murphy sighs loudly, apparently just as susceptible to her charm as everyone else in the universe.
“It’s John. John Murphy. But if any of you call me that, I’ll end you.” He pauses, rethinking his words, and raises his hands in supplication. “In a non-criminal way.”
Miller laughs loudly. “It’s cool, dude. I go by my last name, too.” He reaches out a hand to side-five Murphy, who reciprocates automatically with a small smile ghosting his lips.
“Well, Murph, Are you gonna stand there all day or are you gonna sit with the cool kids?” Raven grins brightly but doesn’t wait for an answer and instead pulls Murphy by his arm onto the vacant chair between her and Clarke.
Murphy chuckles. “Guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Everyone else at the table shakes their heads and they spend the rest of lunch talking animatedly about how they should “properly” initiate Murphy into their friend group with a goat sacrifice (which eventually turns into a Pringle sacrifice when Bellamy intervenes as the Responsible One™).