WHO: Johanna Mason and John Murphy WHEN: Sometime before the EMP in March. WHERE: Their suite. WHAT: Johanna freaked out in the rain and Murphy comes to get her. WARNINGS: Panic attacks, Hunger Games killin', non-sexual nudity. STATUS: gdoc, finished
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You could see the sea from every room on the ship. Johanna took advantage of this and sat on the balcony-- she hadn’t been out there since she drank with Ron. The boat was feeling claustrophobic but she didn’t want to deal with walking around other people. So the balcony was perfect. She curled up on the chaise lounge in pajamas (which was one of Murphy’s shirts-- even though he had less clothes than her-- and soft pants). Johanna was reading a book on communism, realizing how close to Panem that theory was. However, it was a very boring book and she fell into a sleep.
If Murphy or Ron came out to see her, she wouldn’t have noticed. Johanna was a deep sleeper, which is why she didn’t like to sleep. During the Victor’s Games, she stayed up for a few days, usually on watch. They figured if someone was going to do it, it might as well be the alert person.
The sky cracked with thunder and a torrent came down. It was the kind of rain that would only last a few minutes, but would soak you in seconds. Johanna flailed awake, her book slipping to the ground. She was frozen, breathing heavily and clutching her chest. Johanna sat there in the rain for several moments, holding her head in her hands and trying not to scream. She wasn’t ready for this.
Just on the other side of the door, in the comfort of their suite, was Murphy. He hadn’t been doing much beside taking a nap. Time escaped him, realizing he had slept for longer than anticipated. Groggy and dazed, Murphy dragged himself out of bed. The heels of his palms smooshed into his eyes, trying to rub the sleep out of them.
“Johanna,” he tried to say through a yawn that crept up right out of his mouth. Murphy stood on the tips of his toes and let his arms stretch high above his head. He dropped them a second later, letting his arms slap lazily at his sides.
“Johanna,” he repeated. His eyebrow quirked, one higher than the other. She didn’t say she was going to leave, surely she would have woken him up.
Just beyond the door to the balcony a bright light flashed and a second later thunder crackled through the sky. He made his way over to the door, catching the door’s handle in his hand when he was close enough to do so. “Holy shit is it raining out here,” Murphy said the moment he took a step outside.
“Johanna?” His head jerked to the small figure. She looked so tiny. Tiny and wet. “What the hell are you doing out here?” He stooped down to her. “If you wanted to take a shower, you could have just gone to the one in the bathroom.”
She was tense all over and burning up, despite the cold water raining down on her. She tucked her hands under opposite elbows, and rocked back and forth. “I can’t.” A deep breath, “move, Murphy.” Her hair was dripping wet, spirals of black hair dripping water down onto her lap. Murphy’s shirt on her small frame was soaked and could be seen straight through. It had only struck him just then that something was very, very wrong. And in a quick instant, Murphy collected her in his arms. First it was an embrace, not too tight, but enough to let her know that he was here and he was going to help her. “I got you,” he softly murmured into her ear.
Johanna slowly moved to grab her book that fell to the ground, the pages expanding as they got wet. He moved fast, his hand quickly taking hold of the soggy book. “I got it.” And quickly tucked it beneath his arm. She leaned on him, putting one arm around his shoulder, knowing he’d pick her up. Her breathing was irregular and deep inhales sounded sharp in the back of her throat. “Help.”
“I’m going to help you. Don’t worry.” Murphy scooped her up next. One arm held her beneath her legs, while the other curled around the back of her shoulders. The door was still opened and easily brought them both inside. He used the back of his boot to slam the door closed behind them. His steps were not fast, just quick enough to bring her to the couch. “What can I do,” he asked, gently placing her down. Murphy was down on his knees again, pressed up close to the couch.
The worst part of these things was how stupid she felt afterwards. When it was all over and done with, the scary part ceased, then the embarrassment set in. She was still in shock, however, and didn’t register that she was indoors yet. Johanna started to speak several times but stopped to inhale deeply. She held her chest, “I can’t breathe.” She stared at the floor but obviously wasn’t looking at anything in particular.
In a frenzy, she started to pull her clothes off, shirt first and then pants, and she curled up in the corner of the couch. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m fine, I’m sorry.” She didn’t think she should probably have a top on in the living room that belonged to Ron as well.
“No, you can,” Murphy softly reminded her. “ Just take in a slow deep breath, like this --” and he paused in order to slowly draw in a deep inhale through his nose. He nodded his head before exhaling slowly through puckered lips. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” another quick reminder.
She nodded, but her eyes were filling up. “I can breathe,” she nodded.
She was nearly naked now, her clothes strewn across the living area. “I’m going to pick you up again.” He wanted to tell her before scooping her back up into his arms. “It’s going to be alright. I have you.” Johanna looked back at the sopping clothes seeping into rug in the nice and neat living room. Murphy was moving them into their bedroom so she could wrap herself in their blankets if she just wanted to hide herself from the world. Gently, Johanna was set down. “Is there anything I can do?”
Her brows were set in a permanent furrow and she had trouble looking at Murphy. “Can you get me some clothes? I’m cold.” She burrowed under the large comforter and wiggled about, peeling off the wet underpants. Her arm emerged enough to toss them against the wall.
Murphy nodded and without saying another word he went straight to their dresser drawers. It was easy to navigate through them, picking out her favorite shirt and the comfiest sweatpants that he’d see her wear a lot.
“It’s just rain. I thought I was doing better,” she said it angrily, mad at herself. “I fell asleep.” A crack of thunder startled her-- every sense felt heightened. At the thunder, Johanna broke down crying. “You don’t have to do this,” her breath hitched and she buried her face in the comforter.
Murphy dropped the clothes in front of her and quickly crawled onto the bed, right at her side. “Hey, hey, don’t cry. It’s fine. You’re inside now, “ he whispered, ducking his head a little so he could peek at her face. “Can I hold you?”
Johanna pushed back her limp hair and reached for the shirt he dropped. She continued to sob, but in such a professional way. Quiet little whimpers, no wailing from her. She sniffled and pulled the shirt over her head, trying to get it around her with the blanket blocking the way.
There was something cute in how her cries went to stop little hiccups and whimpers, tugging at the strings of his heart. Slowly Murphy was piecing her back together, smoothing away all the cracks.
She looked at him pitifully and nodded, “Yeh.” She remembered how when they flooded the training area, she was much worse off. At least Murphy didn’t see that. Begging for morphling and screaming.
“Come here,” he said, enveloping her into his arms. Johanna was pulled closer, pressing against his chest. He guided her until they were laying down, her partly on his chest. One hand rested on the side of her head, fingers lazily curling around a lock of her hair. “You’re cute when you cry,” he said without really thinking about it.
She laid against his chest and pulled her hand up to rest near her mouth. She used it to muffle her silent weeping. “No,” Johanna muttered. She hardly ever cried so when she did it, it felt exhausting. Johanna snuggled into the crook of his neck, wet hair and wet cheeks on his dry skin. “Thank you.”
“It’s cute, but I rather you not cry.” He let his thumb sweep across the one cheek he could reach, wiping away the tears that soaked her skin. “Now you’re in comfy clothes and in bed with such an amazing guy.” He let the edges of his lips curl into a little smirk. “If we get under the sheets we can make a little fort.”
“It’s not cute,” but there was a bit of a pout in her voice. “Yeah, pull the blankets up and make us a fort.” Her voice was still meek and quivering, but it wasn’t as bad as it was before. Murphy made no rush to move her again. Even though she told him to move, she put her hand over his on her face. She held it there for a second and breathed deeply with her eyes closed. Murphy used his hand to gently dry her face of the tears that rolled down her cheeks.
“I’m still a little worked up.” Johanna took his hand and put it over her heart. Beneath his hand, he felt her hummingbird heart racing along. He let out a breath, nodding his head in acknowledgement. “Want me to sing you a song,” he pressed the question in her hair.
Johanna’s feet rubbed against each other nervously, even though she had a serene look on her face. She released his hand so he could get the blankets. “Yes,” she said as a smile crept up on her face. His eyes peeked through a squint, lips pursing together as he scrutinized the expression on her face. Murphy wasn’t expecting her to say yes, but he also wasn’t going to offer and not follow up on it.
They both had a hand between their bodies and Johanna reached down to link fingers with his. “If it’s good, I might ask for it every night.” She was wondering what would have happened if Murphy didn’t find her when he did.
Murphy’s face softened, a smirk curling the corners of his lips. “Oh, it’s going to be good,” he promised her. It only took a moment to think and suddenly his blue eyes lit up as a song came to mind. “Just don’t laugh at me.” His blue eyes seemed to do all the pleading.
Johanna put a hand over her heart, “I won’t laugh at you.”
He cleared his throat before words began to roll off his tongue. “Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can’t help falling in love with you,” Murphy sung slowly, voice going deeper than usual. And even though he had suddenly become self conscious of his singing ability, Murphy continued on. “Shall I stay,” each word drawled going in tempo with the music that played in his head. “Would it be a sin if I can’t help falling in love with you?”
She had a bemused look on her face when he began to sing. Johanna had liked his voice since she first heard it, only after meeting him via the network. But stretched out like that, it was softer and sweeter. Slowly her expression changed from slightly confused to serene.
Whatever tension or anxiousness that sat in his chest soon began to dissipate and Murphy paused his singing to look at the shifted look on her face. The smirk on his own face wavered and was replaced with a genuine and rare smile.
Johanna lifted the hand that was linked with his and held it close to her lips. They brushed over his knuckles when she spoke. “Are you going to keep going,” she whispered. She closed her eyes.
“Does that mean I’m doing okay,” he softly chuckled, nodding his head. Murphy obliged, gently swaying now as he started singing again. “Like a river flows surely to the sea,” his singsong voice slow and low just like before and somehow managing to at least keep himself in tune. “Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be. Take my hand, take my whole life too.” Gently, Murphy squeezed the hand that held his. He collapsed onto his back abruptly, laying flat and looking up at the ceiling. A wet laugh bubbled into his chest, quickly using his free hand to dig his knuckles into his eyes.
Johanna darted after him, propping herself with her elbow on the pillow near his head. She was higher on the bed than he was at this angle, and looked slightly down at him. “What is that?” She still had a bit of an entranced look on her face. Music in Panem was usually only for funerals and weddings. No one was really happy there, and music was a product of happiness, wasn’t it?
Murphy looked at her through one eye, the heel of his hand was in the socket of the other. He smirked, although not as smug as any other time, it was weak and the corners of his mouth twitched. “A song my mom used to play. It’s --” His face seemed to scrunch up as he thought for a moment, “--Can’t Help Falling in Love by a man named Elvis.”
Her hand let go of his and she framed his head with her arms, thumb grazing his chin. She brushed his hair back. She fidgeted with him because she could. He was hers. “My dad had a guitar. He played it when my aunt died.”
He let her touch and fuss with his face, his hair, any part of him she was allowed to fidget with. With both of his hands now free, Murphy wrapped his arms around her. “Do you know how to play the guitar? We can be like a duo or something.”
Johanna snorted. Like him, her face was in a permanent smirk. She shook her head while explaining, “No, it was the most expensive thing we owned and daddy sold it before he could teach me. Besides, there was other things I was learning about anyway.” Her teeth snagged her bottom lip when she realized she said the fonder, more familiar daddy instead of dad.
Murphy smirked at the more affection word for father had been uttered from her mouth. “Tough, Little Johanna, calling her dad daddy.” He was only being playful, the truth was it was nice seeing her like this, totally comfortable being so open.
She held her hands up for him to see, right in front of his face. “But I got calluses like I played the guitar.” Johanna’s hands weren’t rough but they certainly weren’t soft. To throw an axe or carve wood took some power.
She was surprisingly unbothered by him noticing her word usage. Johanna liked to share all those little bits with him, especially when he seemed to like it. Ever since the day they met, she was telling him dark secrets. Talking to Murphy was like hearing an echo.
His arms slipped away from their hold on her, and took her wrists gently around his fingers. “They’re not bad,” Murphy commented, peeking at her between her hands. “Kiss me,” and he tugged her closer to him.
Johanna slumped down to lay parallel to him, her hair splaying out (it was getting long) and her shirt hiking up in the back. The tips of her hair tickled his face and he brushed his hand along the side of his face. “Watch it,” Murphy teased. She didn’t care that she was only wearing a shirt, she was comfortable with him. She had nowhere to go. Johanna didn’t respond to him with her voice, just bumped her nose into his. “Eskimo kiss?”
“Mmm, that works,” his voice dropped, a soft bedroom tone. He let the tip of his nose slowly drag along from one nostril to the other. “I’m glad you’re feeling better than before.” He dropped himself so he was partly laying on her, nuzzling his cheek against her shoulder.
Johanna cradled the back of his head and her chest heaved with tiny sigh. “Yeah, me too. You helped, though.” She pushed on his shoulder until he was face to face with him again. “Last time that happened to me I needed morphling. It helped with the shortness of breath.” She glanced down at his chin before tilting her head back up and kissing him full on the mouth. Thank you, thank you. My hero.
She broke the kiss and settled against the pillow. “Why do you put up with me?” She wasn’t trying to bring anyone down, she even had a small smile on her face. Johanna quickly pressed another kiss to his face-- this time to the corner of his mouth, quick and making a smack sound. His lips tried to chase after her kisses and stole a kiss when she pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth.
“Well,” Murphy started to say as he pushed himself up by an elbow, and hovered over her. “Looks like you don’t need any morphling when I’m around.” Slowly he moved himself on top of her, but never laying on her. His legs were bent, knees pressing down at either side of her. Her head laid between his arms, palms pressed flat against the mattress. Murphy lowered himself down, trickling kisses along her chin. “I like putting up with you,” he muffled against her skin, hiding the smirk on his lips.
“You’re saving me,” she said to the spot past his head, her back arching and head tilting back. “You said I don’t need it but I very obviously do.” Johanna pulled on the hem of his shirt downwards, the fabric tightening against his chest for a moment.
“Nope,” Murphy shot back, shaking his head in disagreement.
“You trying to start something?” Her face cracked with a smile. Even though she was being playful, she felt very vulnerable and honest at the moment. “I think I need you more than you need me.”
“I am actually not trying for anything expect put a smile on your face,” he promised, pressing his lips against her smile for another quick kiss. “I need you more than you realize, Johanna.” Slowly he moved back down, shoulder to the bed, face resting into the little dip of her shoulder.
“That’s done easily enough, just carry me to bed and put me in my favorite shirt and sing Elvis at me.” She craned her neck to look down at him. “I think we’re getting better.” She meant as a whole, as a couple, as partners.
“We are,” he agreed.
“Do you think we’ll last?” She was asking all the bummer questions. Maybe the panic released some of it’s gunk into her brain and was causing all her insecurities to come out. She reached over and ran her fingers through his hair, lifting it up and letting it fall down again. “Your hair is getting shaggy.”
By now he was used to questions like these. She mostly asked them after coming down from her panic attacks. Murphy didn’t take offense to it. He knew why she asked, knew the underlying fear beneath each question. “I think we can last for a really long time,” softly he reassured her. His gaze left her face and tried to look at the hair she was playing with. “Are you saying I need a haircut?“
She was comforted by his positive answers. Maybe it was just her asking if everything would be okay without actually asking that question. “It took me a long time to find you, I don’t want to give you up that easily.” Johanna reached up into her own hair and waggled her curls about. “If you get one, I’m getting one. I’m not used to this. It’s not been this long in a couple years. But short and curly hair doesn’t look good. Baby ‘fro.”
He still had his cheek to her when his glance followed her hands, watching her fingers fuss around with her curly hair.” Murphy dipped his own fingers into her hair. It was always so soft and it smelled of strawberries. “I like it,” he mused, dropping his hand away from her curls. His arm laid across her, tucking his hand beneath her body. “I like my hair long.”
Johanna almost asked if he’d let it get as long as Baelfire’s but stomped on the brakes for that one. “I like your hair too, you don’t need a haircut. Let it grow, fuck gender norms.” She pressed her lips to the top of his head and kept it bowed there.
“I’ll break every gender norm, how about that?” Murphy pulled himself closer to her because he just never was close enough.
“A lot of people in my district let their hair go naturally. I only started to straighten it when the Capitol got me. Curly hair wasn’t embraced. You should have seen me, I had on so much makeup, I looked years older than 17. And the clothes they’d put me in. Jesus.”
“Don’t straighten your hair. I like it the way it is, a little baby fro.” He didn’t know what a fro exactly meant, but he assumed it was just how her hair was growing out. “I would have told all those people at the Capitol to go fuck themselves,” he murmured. Murphy let his eyes close, his lids becoming too heavy. “Probably got myself killed, but whatever.”
“If you didn’t fight, they’d give you stuff to fight. And there were these kids from the richer districts, Careers. They trained from childhood to fight in the hunger games. They were already rich and they wanted to bring honor to their stupid fucking districts. They were really loyal to the Capitol.”
“They all sound tools to me,” he said, burying his face into her neck.
He was closer to her and she couldn’t help but turn on her side and hike her leg up over his hip. She wanted to be as close as possible. Not just emotionally dependent, but physically! There was a little space between them when she did that, but Murphy made sure to nuzzle his body into the little space that was available. She balled her fists up in his shirt and hung onto him. His shirts seemed to hang off of him-- she knew he got them from the thrift store and probably didn’t pay much attention to sizes.
After a moment of silence, Murphy spoke up, “I would have fought for you. I would have killed all those people who hurt you.” He wasn’t really thinking about the words that came out so easily, knew that it wouldn’t have been such an easy task to do. It was a promise, one that Murphy would try and keep. “I won’t let anyone else hurt you.” His arms were around her, holding her so tight. “Let me keep you safe, okay?”
She didn’t know why she didn’t just accept the sentiment. “I wanted to kill Snow.” Johanna twisted a little under him, stretching her back. “I know, Murphy.” She wanted to tell him she could take care of herself, but if it made him feel better, then she’d accept it.
Her eyes darted nervously. “I don’t want you to have had to kill anyone else. You lose a little part of yourself. I voted to put more kids to death. Life doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. Does it mean anything to you? Taking lives is too far fucking easy.”
“I won’t do it if I don’t have to.” Murphy may have been a lot of bad things, but a killer wasn’t one of them. It’s not to say he had never killed anyone; the few times he did were to ensure his own life wouldn’t be taken from him. He wouldn’t lie though, the revenge was a bittersweet victory.
“Your life means something to me.” His arms around her loosened enough so he could lean away from her. It was his turn to brush back her hair, hair that was still wet and probably making the pillow, her head rested on, damp. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear since it was long enough to do so. “That’s what happens when someone loves you. They’d do anything to keep them safe.”
Johanna leaned her head towards his hand, tucking her hair back. “I didn’t mean you don’t mean anything, it’s just that we can lose each other so easily. Especially here, we can disappear any time. Better make the most of it.” She raised a hand to his face, tracing her finger over his eyebrows and down his jaw. It was a new sensation to her, being so close to someone. She told him once her parents never hugged her. The only thing her mother did that was physically affectionate was brush and braid Johanna’s hair.
“Let’s not talk about that,” his voice had gone so soft that it crackled a little.
“C’mere,” she whispered, rolling onto her back, pulling him close. Johanna smirked, “So you’re saying you’d kill for me?” She knew he was serious but maybe she wanted to tease him a bit. Or maybe she wanted to hear he’d do something so terrible for her. “Would you die?”
Murphy always let her push and pull him however she wanted, but most of the time Johanna was tugging him closer to her. She was met with no resistance, and his weight was half on her body. “To keep you from dying, yeah.”
Once he was pressed to her, she put her arms around his middle and clung to him. She shifted to get under him, moving her legs to either side of his body. Full body cling. “I’d lie, cheat, steal, kill for you, Murphy. Don’t do anything that’ll make me have to do that, though.”
“I won’t.” A lopsided smirk sprouted across his face. “I’m not a hero,” Murphy promised.
Johanna rested her chin on his shoulder. “Show me you love me.”
“Oh?” Murphy shifted around, bringing himself pressed to her chest. “How do you want me to show you, Johanna,” murmuring softly into her ear. The weight of his hand was on her hip, slowly letting the tips of his fingers play with the hem of his shirt that she was wearing.
She turned her head and started to kiss his ear and down his neck feverishly. Her own hands moved to the small of his back, slipping under his shirt. His skin was so warm when she still felt so cold from the rain. With Murphy’s weight on her, she started to warm up.
“Ooo,” he sounded surprised. “Your fingers are cold.” The muscles beneath her fingertips shivered.
“Make love to me,” she murmured. She wanted to be cradled and touched softly. She wanted to wrap herself around him.