Taming Chaos // J.M // The 100

Chapter 46

"Both."

Ethan's satisfied watching the water drip down fastened shut eyes, pursed lips and a slim neck till it's touching the collar of Murphy's shirt.

"But I guess only one now, huh?"

Watching them from above his clipboard, Harley raises a singular brow. Was that an answer? Then, are they flirting? Is this how teenagers flirt?

Swiping the water from his eyes, Murphy's deadpanned expression is back in place. Nobody sees his fingers twitch around metal until it's too late.

Ethan meets the same fate as Murphy.

"My bad." The brunette shrugs, voice hoarse, "Must've been the heat."

Ethan shakes himself out, the water leaving his hair like a sprinkler, but his shoulders shake with laughter. He meets Murphy's - vibrant and striking - eyes with a smile and then, suddenly nervous, he turns back to Harley, "Uh, was that all the supplies?"

Harley nods, "I just have to mark this off and give it to Abby." He explains, shaking the clipboard. "You two take a rest."

Nodding, Ethan shuffles away to refill his cup. He sits down on an empty crate and searches for Murphy, finding him half under the shade of the canopy and half in the sun, glowing golden. He notices the irritant when Murphy looks out across camp and sweeps his hair back, doing it again not even seconds later when it tumbles in front of his eyes.

"Hey,"

Murphy looks down at Ethan, ducking fully under the makeshift canopy to raise a brow. "What?" His voice comes out rough, suspicious.

"Think you can spare a few minutes? I want help with something."

Murphy narrows his eyes, the fringe of his hair still wet from the water, "And there's nobody else you could ask?"

"Nope, just you." Ethan smiles slyly, patting the dirt in front of him, "C'mon, conqueror of supplies. Right here."

A small huff, almost a chuckle, "Why?" Murphy kneads his fingers together by his side.

Ethan rolls his eyes, "It's for the good of humanity, I promise it won't kill you." He grabs the arm and tugs. And then, with a thud, Murphy is sitting in front of him, facing away. Before the disagreement begins, he slips him the remains of his water.

Murphy pauses, taking the cup. "What do you want?" After a beat, "Unless it's another loss you're after? I'm sure I could fit it into my schedule, but I gotta save room for the constant saving Ethan from his inevitable demise thing."

Ethan responds with a scoff, leaning forward, long fingers reaching out towards a mess of brown hair -

"Ethan?"

Murphy jolts instinctively against the touch. His hand, knuckles painted purple, is twisted around Ethan's wrist. Wide eyes meet brown-green and narrow, the danger of John Murphy quickly returning. "What the hell -"

"Stop making a fuss, I'm just fixing your hair." At Murphy's unamused glance Ethan tilts his head, "Gonna pull it away from your eyes."

"Oh," Comes the understanding. Murphy relaxes slightly. He thinks back to watching Ethan braid the other day and suppresses the shiver that jumps down his spine at the offer.

The delinquents had enjoyed every chance they got with Ethan's so-called magic fingers - the term started by Harper, of course - and he knows why.

He looks around to see if there's anybody watching.

Ethan is rambling in the background of his contemplating thoughts, talking to fill the silence and troubled by his lack of an answer.