Based of - 3x01 (kinda) Words - 2304 Warnings - none.
A/n - You have no idea how long I have been waiting to write this part. I'm pretty sure this was kind of like the scene I had imagined first before thinking of the whole story line for Murphy and the reader. But anyway, it all just super fluffy and great and I hope you like it :)
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Oh the days that passed. Each one felt long than the last. Saying it had only been a week was much more than a shock. Being locked and bunker with nothing but John Murphy and music from the 90s really wasn't the most riveting thing out there. Granted, Murphy could make some, interesting, decisions but down here there were no decisions. You were simply just here.
There was nothing much to look forward to either. Maybe the next night when you'd get to sleep on the soft bed instead of the sofa. Something you could assume Murphy was awaiting every other night. You had thought that was about it for getting excited. And you had done until you left the bedroom.
It was instant. The moment you left the comfort of the closed doors and privacy and into the kitchen. Somehow Murphy had found both the resources and inspiration to cook. But really cook. It was nothing extraordinary. He knew that wouldn't be possible with the rations he was limited to. But he hadn't let that happen. However, walking through the room in was a new sight to you. Murphy stirring into a small, soft music playing in the background as his head bounced to the beat. He look content. Again, a new sight to you.
With brows narrow, you made yourself known to the boy. "You cook?" Murphy smiled up at your question as he hummed in response. When there was no snarky comment to come from his mouth, that just made you even more concerned. It had made you ask yourself whether this really was the same Murphy who had hung Bellamy right in front of your eyes. The same Murphy who killed two people. Still, you brush away you curious thoughts as you slip past him to where the cooker was. "And here I was thinking your only skill was being a homicidal little shit." You joke lightly.
He laughed. Murphy actually laughed. It may have only been quiet but you had heard it. With the days that had past while in the bunker, neither one of you had made the move to create the same light conversation you would usually hold. Because staying quiet and shushing your worried was much easier than doing so instead. "I do see that as more of a personality trait." He counter argues, a smug little smile hanging from his lips.
You return the small gesture as you stand next to the boy. It wasn't until you realise what was unravelling between the two of you that you pulled your eyes away. You didn't know what had happened. You and Murphy were smiling at another? Either way, you were quick to dilute the semi-awkward situation as your hand went to grab the spoon Murphy had been using.
The boy watched as your mouth was slightly hesitate but still let the spoon reach your lips. It had taken a moment but Murphy had seen the change in your expression. Your brows fell knitted as you nodded lighting. "It's good." You complimented. And now you were complimenting each other? A week in isolation from the rest of you humanity really had changed you. But when you took a second to think about it, your thoughts were right. It was just you and Murphy. There was no Raven or Bellamy to judge the way you were looking at another. Or the fact that Murphy knew in here that you were safe. Yes, you had a limited supply of food but there were no sea monsters bellow you or mines that were just wanting to blow up. It really was just you and him.
