John Murphy (one shots)

"Innocent" Interaction

A/N: Hayes is reeling after Finn massacres the village and Murphy flirts with her.

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: swearing, no smut, mentions of violence, drinking (???).

_•_•_

I'm not sure how I got here. My hand encloses around the top of a mug as I twist it between my fingers. I'm trying my very hardest not to think about them. Their eyes wide with fear and their bodies weightless on the damp ground. I don't know what I was expecting when I went with Clarke, Bellamy, and Octavia to find Finn but it definitely wasn't him and Murphy standing over a bunch of dead bodies. Now they're parading my thoughts almost obnoxiously. I've seen death but nothing like that. That was a massacre.

"Drinking your troubles away?"

I turn to my left to find Murphy standing next to me. He leans his elbows onto the bar as he glances sideways at me. He's smirking just as he normally would. He doesn't look like someone who just witnessed eighteen people die in front of him.

I turn so I'm leaning with my back against the makeshift counter. "It's what I'm good at so why not?"

"How many have you had?" he asks casually, sipping from his own mug.

I turn the cup in my hand as if that'll help me remember. "This is my... fifth? Or seventh. Who really knows at this point?"

"Damn, Hayes," he says, using my last name as he usually does. "Mind letting me catch up?"

"Even if I did, I'd lap you twice in ten minutes anyway," I say, shrugging and swallowing another large portion of my drink.

"Cocky," he comments, one eyebrow quirking.

"And rightfully so," I say, smiling at him.

His eyes fall down my frame for a second as he moves a little closer to me. "Would you say you're already drunk?"

"Not enough for this," I say, pointing my index finger between the two of us.

"Who was suggesting that?" he asks innocently, grinning.

"As long as you don't expect anything that won't happen, I'm sure this'll be a very unproblematic conversation," I say, slamming my cup down on the counter. "Another, please!"

Even as I order another drink, he doesn't take his eyes from mine. "You sure you don't want to slow down a little?"

"Shouldn't you be endorsing my inebriation?" I ask, taking my newly filled cup and sipping for a second. "The more I have to drink, the closer I am to fucking you which seems to be your endgame from this interaction. Either way, it's in your best interest that I get wasted to the point of no return."

A faint smile finds his lips as his eyes roam the features in my face. "You really don't have an off switch, do you?"

"I have no idea why I'd need to turn off my vulgarity," I say, shrugging and grinning sloppily at him. "It's part of my charm."

"That it is," he confirms, shifting a bit.

I get lost in his expression for a second, wondering why he's still talking to me. When I don't pull back, he grins to himself and drops his eyes to my neck. I wet my lips, looking forward and taking another long sip from my cup.

"What about you, huh?" I say, looking back at him. "Why are you drinking yourself blind?"

He smirks. "Do I really need a reason?"

"Humour me," I say, shrugging.

He pauses, looking down my frame for a second. "You want me to be honest?"