THE 100 IMAGINES & PREFERENCES

Thank You | John Murphy

"Alright," you nodded.

You headed out of the dropship, Murphy following you closely. You noticed the way the other campers looked at him. Their leers were either filled with hate or fear, and you felt bad knowing that he had to deal with it after everything he went through with the Grounders.

You lead him into your tent, hurrying to pick up the scattered clothes, towels, and other random debris lying around. "Sorry, I'm not exactly the neatest person to share a tent with," you joked.

Murphy shrugged, looking around. "Doesn't bother me."

You noticed him begin to remove his jacket as you tidied up, but he winced in pain as he brought his left arm out of the sleeve.

"You okay?" you asked as he cursed under his breath.

"I'm fine," he insisted quickly.

You nodded, going back to what you were doing, but curious enough to keep him in your sights.

He sat down on the edge of your makeshift cot, reaching down to remove his shoes.
"Ah!" He shot back into sitting straight as he groaned.

"Fuck," he sighed, laying back in frustration. He rested the heels of his hands over his eyes, tired and in pain. He hated being injured, especially when it prevented him from doing tasks as simple as untying the laces on his boots.

He felt his right foot lift up, and looked down to see you remove the boot. You had somehow undone the laces without him even noticing. You started untying the left one, and he sat up as you took it off. Even the gentle and calculated movement made him grimace.

"Thank you," he said as you stood up.

"Did you at least have Clarke look at it?" you asked.

"What?"

"Murphy, you're injured. It's pretty obvious," you insisted, unsure of why he was so keen on trying to deny it.

"I...she was a little busy healing the people I infected," he answered, an obvious guilt seeping through his words.

"Did you clean it? Bandage it?"

He shook his head, eyes cast away from yours.

"Come on, I'll clean it for you. I'm not as good as Clarke but I'm okay with the simple stuff," you offered.

He looked at you warily before nodding. He began removing his shirt as you gathered a towel and the jug of water you kept in your tent. You rummaged through your things, managing to find a piece of scrap material large enough to work as a bandage.

You gasped when you turned around, unprepared for the sight of John's torso. His chest and back were covered in yellowing bruises, angry cuts, and welts that were now beginning to turn to scars. You could tell which one was the main source of pain- there was a particularly large laceration adorning the side of his ribcage.

"That bad, huh?" He smiled sadly at your reaction.

You sat next to him on the cot, not knowing what to say.

"Don't hurt me too bad, doc," he teased, holding his arm to the side, out of the way of the injury.

"I'll be gentle," you promised, pouring some water onto the towel. You began dabbing at the wound and John's breath caught in his throat at the stinging sensation.

"Sorry," you apologized.

"Don't be, you're helping. Besides, I've survived worse." He smirked, pain in his gaze.

You carried on until the dried blood and dirt were gone. Murphy gripped at the blankets beneath him as you worked, trying to distract himself.

"Okay," you finally sighed. "The bad parts over. I'm just gonna bandage it so it doesn't get infected."

You wrapped the material around his upper body, protecting the wound from further harm. John studied you as you worked, his intense stare making it difficult for you to focus. Once you were done, your eyes quickly found their way to his.

"Thank you, Y/N." he said, eyes travelling from your eyes to your mouth, back and forth again and again.

You wanted to say something, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to speak. Soon he was closing the distance between the two of you, a hesitant hand making its way to caress your face. His thumb delicately traced your cheekbone as he leaned in-

The sound of the tent flap moving made both of you pull away, hands returning to their respectful owners. John blushed, eyes cast downwards as you looked to the entrance of your tent.

Clarke entered, a familiar object in her hand. "Y/N, you forgot your knife in the dropship."

"Oh, right, uh- thank you," you stumbled over your words as you stood up, retrieving the weapon.

"Ever heard of knocking?" John asked sharply.

Clarke ignored him, and it bothered you that she seemed to be indifferent to the shape his body was in. "I'll see you tomorrow, I'm gonna get some sleep. You should too."

"Right." You nodded, thanking her again as she left.

"You should rest," you said, setting your knife down with your things, your back towards him. He looked on in disappointment, knowing that the moment had passed. "You can take the cot, I have a sleeping bag from the dropship."

"You just patched me up and you think I'm letting you sleep on the ground? It's only one night, we'll just share the bed," he insisted, laying down.

You blushed, wondering how he could be so calm after what had almost just happened. "I- okay."

You removed your shoes, heading over to the bed and lying down next to him, facing away. The two of you laid in silence for a moment. Murphy noticed this, and began thinking. He thought of how you offered to sleep on the ground, and how distant you seemed to get after the incident. A completely different narrative began to form in his head, and he stood up from the bed abruptly, guilt clouding in his stomach.

"Where are you going?" you asked, confused at his sudden actions.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he apologized, not able to meet your eyes. "I shouldn't have tried to kiss you."

"Murphy-" He was pulling his shirt over his head, searching for his jacket.

"I can find somewhere else to sleep- I'm sorry, Y/N." he grabbed the coat, turning to leave, but you reached for his wrist to stop him.

"John," you uttered, taking the both of you by surprise. His stare traveled from your hand to your face, finally meeting your eyes. "Please, just- stay. Please."

You stepped closer to him, cupping his face in your hands. He flinched at your touch, his body conditioned to expect rough and violent actions.

You glanced at his lips, and he didn't need more of an invitation than that. He leaned in gingerly, one hand gripping your waist, the other behind your neck, guiding your lips to his. He kissed you with the desperation of someone who needed it. He sighed as you let your hands explore his hair. He couldn't seem to make up his mind as his hands explored your body, his touch lingering everywhere.

Your kisses became shorter as the two of you pulled apart little by little. John caressed your face, kissing you once more before meeting you eyes intently. "Thank you, Y/N."