Red Lighter ✧ John Murphy

XVI - Drunk

August 4th, 2015

Okay. So. I literally JUST found out about the time jump from Season 2 to Season 3 of The 100. THREE WHOLE MONTHS. THAT MEANS I CAN WRITE WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT IN A THREE MONTH TIME SPAN. DO YOU KNOW HOW AMAZING THAT IS?!

So yeah. :') This is a celebration chapter because I AM SO SO SO SO SOOOOO HAPPY ABOUT THIS.

Yeah. I'm sure you can tell.

Okies. Well. The song for this is "Freaks" by Timmy Trumpet and Savage. Cause I like it. And it makes me wanna be hyper. Oh, and in case any of you recognize it, that's the tune for the "When Mom Isn't Home" vine. :')

Byeeeeeeeeeeee. :)

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Chapter Sixteen

We kept searching the lighthouse for a few hours, finding anything that might be useful. There was a first aid kid the size of a suitcase, a whole pantry full of food (also a fridge full of 100 year-old rotted stuff... But I won't get into that gruesomeness), and even a mysterious steel door that neither of us knew how to open.

"Hey, I think I'm gonna go take a shower," he said.

"Okay," I nodded, still looking through the cupboards.

"Ven, I..."

I looked over at him, curious as to what he was going to tell me. He looked shy for once.

"I need help with, uh..." he pointed to his arm, then to his shirt, which now only had one sleeve.

I smiled, and nodded. "Of course. Come on."

I took his hand and brought him to the bathroom, ignoring the warm and comforting feeling that it brought me. I helped him get the other sleeve off of him, then helped him to pull his arm through the hole of the other side of his shirt. It was difficult to get it through without hurting him, but we managed.

When his shirt was off, I couldn't help but glance down at his bare torso. I exhaled a short breath, feeling my cheeks begin to heat up when he caught me staring.

"You can probably get the rest off yourself," I said, clearing my throat, then spinning around and going into the bedroom before he could say anything else.

I searched through the bedroom, trying to find clothes that would fit us. It turned out that there were only a few shirts that might actually fit me, maybe a woman had been her at one point. My suspicions were confirmed when I found a bra in one of the drawers.

I had been so caught up in finding clothes that weren't filled with patches and threaded holes, that I didn't even notice Murphy right behind me. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, and that was quite literally the ONLY thing covering him.

I grabbed the first things I saw, which were a pair of blue boxers, a black t-shirt, and a pair of blue jeans. He caught them with ease, sending a smirk my way. "Thanks."

He went back into the bathroom, and changed into the clothes I had given him. He told me that he could wrap his arm again on his own, but after he had been in there for more than ten minutes, I decided to go in and help him.

He was standing in front of the sink, cursing under his breath while he attempted at wrapping the gauze all the way around his forearm.

I smirked at him, leaning against the doorframe and watching as he continued to struggle. "Need some help?"

"Nah, I got it," he muttered.

I continued watching him for another thirty seconds, then walked right over to him and moved his hand away from the end of the gauze. I took it and wrapped his arm easily, then grabbed the tape and put it down. "There. All done," I smiled at him.

"It doesn't hurt as much," he told me.

"That's because we cleaned it. Now all of the sand and dirt that could have been in it is gone, and the risk of infection is much lower," I said.

He nodded. "So you think it's gonna be alright?"

I smiled. "Of course it is. As long as it doesn't get infected, you should be fine."

He sighed in relief. "Good."

I laughed a little. "Why? What'd you think we'd have to do, cut it off?"

"That crossed my mind once or twice," he replied, smirking.

"Of course it did," I said, rolling my eyes. "Now, get outta here. I need to take a shower too."

He smirked, leaning against the doorframe in the same way that I had, seeming to have gotten over the pain in his arm. "I dunno, I think I'd rather stay here and watch."

I rolled my eyes for the second time since our conversation started, putting my hand on his chest and shoving him into the bedroom. He laughed as I did, and I could still hear him chuckling while I shut the door.

I washed off all of the blood and dirt that had accumulated on my body and in my hair, glad to finally have a good washing. I used some orange-scented body wash that I had found in the bathroom cupboard, and some shampoo that I guess Murphy had located.

It was a miracle that all this stuff was still here after so many years. And at this point, I suppose that a miracle was the one thing that we needed.

When I was finished, of course I had forgotten to take clothes with me. Thank god that Murphy wasn't in the bedroom. I could hear him in the kitchen, probably attempting to drink every single bit of alcohol in the rack on the wall.

Once I was changed, I realized that I was very, very correct.

I came out into the kitchen, only to hear what I believe was "We Will Rock You" by Queen. I remembered the song being played at some of the dances that I had heard about. Along with that, Murphy had a bottle of what looked like whiskey in his left hand while he danced wildly.

"Seriously?" I said, sighing. But I couldn't help but laugh at the look on his face when he saw me.

"Oh, damn," he said. "I wasn't supposed to drink that."

"Why?" I asked, laughing. "What's wrong?"

A wide, drunken grin spread onto his face as he jumped over to me. "YOU were supposed to drink it," he said, holding the bottle out to me.

"You're drunk. And I mean, REALLY drunk," I said, laughing. "How'd you get so drunk so quickly?"

He yawned. "I dunno. But this stuff makes me tired. Is it supposed to make you tired? You try it, does it make you tired?" He said, trying to push the bottle to me again.

I rolled my eyes. "Come on, Murphy," I said, grabbing his right wrist. "You need to go to bed. Sleep this thing off."

"Noooo!" he whined, pouting.

He was like a little kid who thought his bedtime was too early. It was kind of hilarious, but a little annoying. I just didn't want him to break anything while he was in this drunken state.

I dragged him into the bedroom, and he willingly laid onto the bed before he reached up and grabbed my wrist.

"Eeep!" I squeaked as he pulled me onto the bed, then wrapped his arms around my hips and put his head onto my stomach. He put his legs over mine, and was almost completely relaxed.

I sighed in exasperation as I looked down at him. "You have got to be kidding me."

Soon, he was snoring, and I sighed again before yanking a blanket over the two of us.

I swear to god, I am gonna murder him in his sleep.