Fic Post: Laws of Attraction
Title: Laws of Attraction
Author: vegawriters
Fandom: Murphy Brown
Pairing: Murphy Brown/Mitchell Baldwin
Rating: General
Timeframe: Black, White, and Red All Over (season 6)
A/N: I appear to be writing a "Murphy's Lovers" series and didn't even realize it ...
Disclaimer: The rules as ever apply: I don’t make a dime from this. I do however make friends while gushing about Candice and Diane and all of the concepts this show created.
Summary: She didn’t need a Prince. But a King would be nice. Someone to stand with her, an equal. She hated that she was lonely, hated that she wanted that companionship. But she did. And as the clock ticked ever closer to an age where even she was scared to tread, she was starting to wonder if her future was full of men like Baldwin: beautiful, driven, and completely dispassionate. At least, when it came to her.
Her first clue was the awkward, post dinner kiss after the museum fundraiser. She appreciated the effort, especially considering that Mitchell Baldwin was a damn fine man to look at, but when his lips touched hers after that first date, there just wasn’t anything that made her want to pull him back inside and keep him there. Oh, she liked him. He was smart and funny - in a stiff, network executive kind of way. The music choices needed work, but the car was nice, and he smelled great.
God, she was such a cliche sometimes.
Eldin was dozing in the den. She opted to let him sleep, and crept up the stairs to check on Avery. He was drooling into the tail of the stuffed whale Jerry had given her after he’d been born and she paused for a moment, wishing he’d been able to get over his own bullshit and just exist with them. But kids scared the crap out of him and the more Avery became a person, the more Jerry needed his distance. Too busy with kid and job to fight him, Murphy had let him drift away and even now, she took her time answering the occasional phone message. It just wasn’t worth putting her heart through the hope that somehow, they’d figure each other out long enough to craft a long term relationship.
It was strange. Despite now having her “mommy” mug at the office, she was still tough, self-centered, focused on her work and her child and making sense of the world at large. But it didn’t change the reality that a part of her, a part of her she just didn’t understand, wanted love and romance and to be swept off her feet and placed on the back of a white horse. She didn’t need a Prince. But a King would be nice. Someone to stand with her, an equal. She hated that she was lonely, hated that she wanted that companionship. But she did. And as the clock ticked ever closer to an age where even she was scared to tread, she was starting to wonder if her future was full of men like Baldwin: beautiful, driven, and completely dispassionate. At least, when it came to her.
She tiptoed from the nursery before Avery woke to realize she was there and made her way back to her bedroom, slowly unzipping her dress as she went. The last time anyone had done this for her, she’d been three months pregnant and Jerry escorted her to a dinner at the Press Club. They’d come back and fallen into bed, and he’d spent more time enjoying the fact that her chest was bigger than he had almost anything else. His chance to make it up to her had been sidelined that having sex while dealing with preterm labor symptoms hadn’t exactly been something the doctors endorsed. He’d asked though. Of course he had.
Groaning, Murphy slid the dress from her body and stepped out of it, taking the time to hang it up. It wasn’t like it had been rumpled after all. She chucked the strapless bra and took her time rolling down the thigh high stockings she’d donned, just in case. She unclasped her shoes, unsnapped the garter belt, and crashed down onto her bed clad only in her satin underwear and jewelry. All this effort gone because things just felt awkward with Mitchell. Maybe he just needed time to warm up.
Donning her green satin pj’s, Murphy sat again at her vanity, brushing out her hair and removing her makeup. Was it obvious that she wore eyelashes on the show now? That she’d given in to her own personal demons and traded in her regular bras for those push up ones? Just for show night. Were her highlights even more obvious now?
God. Who was she?
She was a woman in her mid-forties in an industry that preferred Katie Couric to Linda Ellerbee. She had nothing against Katie, who was a brilliant reporter in her own right, but the future was a perky one, and Murphy was hardly that.
Face cream applied, Murphy crawled back to bed, her body primed for Avery’s 4 AM wakeup. At eighteen months, he was sleeping through and had even managed his sleep regression with the best of them, but the last few months he’d taken to a 4 AM cry that usually left her frustrated since getting back to sleep for only a couple of hours was a disaster for her. But right now, she had five hours. It was almost a full night at this point.
No wonder men were turned off by motherhood. After all, she could barely keep her eyes open for herself, let alone anyone who might possibly want to have sex with her. So she fell asleep with Mitchell’s awkward kiss lingering on her lips. At least it was something. Some kind of interest.
***
Her second clue came after the third date. After the second, they’d ended up at her place, laughing over the stupidity of the people around them. Everyone was clearly so shocked to see them together. The laughter had turned into a kiss which turned into a handsy, if slightly awkward, makeout session on the couch that had ended with his hand pressing between her legs and her reaching to unzip his fly. Avery’s cry - which turned out to be the precursor to a fever - had stopped them and she could see Mitchell doing his best to not appear relieved. She wasn’t sure if it was because of her, the baby, or that even still after that moment, things felt awkward.
After the third date though, she knew her inkling was more than a feeling. But they spent too much time laughing at the people who did double takes to see a tall black man with a tall white woman. This was DC for god's sake, it wasn’t like interracial relationships were that uncommon. Then again, for women in her circle of celebrity, the numbers were few and far between. The muffins from Ted Danson had been a fun touch.
All that aside, it was only after he’d dropped her at her place with a chaste good night kiss did Murphy realize all they really talked about was the attention both of them hated.
***
Reality sunk in the first night they tried something different. This wasn’t courtside seats at the Bullets game or first row at the Kennedy Center. No, he was cooking. At her place even. “Maybe I should actually spend time with you and Avery,” he’d said, a sheepish smile crossing his face. He was nervous, she knew. But he’d been great and Avery had loved the slices of fresh pepper Mitchell had given him before bedtime. Alone though, the silence descended.
They had nothing to go on.
She hated foreign movies (she didn’t want to, but she did!) and spending time cooking. He didn’t like cartoons. It was funny that those were the main differences, but it was the same alarm that chimed the first time he put Garth Brooks on in the car. Some hurdles just couldn’t be jumped and despite similar politics and a deep desire to know more about the world, they really had nothing in common and he clearly didn’t want to see her naked. If he had, three weeks into this, they’d have skipped dinner and gone straight to the bedroom. Instead, it was awkward conversation on the couch.
This was where she should have been in his lap. Where his hands should have been tugging on her shirt. Eldin was gone and Avery was asleep and suddenly she’d wanted to be anywhere but in her living room because it meant owning up to the reality that they weren’t going to work and the failure was exhausting.
She could have used a kiss when he left, not Eldin coming in with his smart mouth and newly inspired muse. But at least if he was here, he’d keep an eye on things and she could go rub oil into her recently waxed legs and maybe get some sleep for a few hours.
Tonight’s pj’s were a ratted pair of leggings and a Bullets shirt she’d stolen from a boyfriend years ago. Hardly sexy, hardly anything other than functional. She washed her face, pulled her hair back, rubbed cream into her laugh lines. Unbidden, Josh flashed into her mind. Once, she’d been someone who commanded the attention of younger men. Josh had devoured her body, leaving her gasping and sated and ready for more. Within moments she’d wanted him to push her against the nearest flat surface and tease her until she called his name. Would he still find her irresistible? With her stretch marks and slightly sagging breasts and softer stomach? Even though she’d lost the weight, her body had changed. She wasn’t always happy with what remained. She ran her hand over her hair, trying to push away images of men like Josh, men like Peter.
Peter.
Staring at her reflection, she rolled her eyes at the blush that crossed her face at the very thought of the younger, sexy reporter. The one who clearly had eyes for Corky. The one who teased her and taunted her and at night, wandered into her dreams to leave her writhing. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her feelings hidden. Thankfully, Corky had her covered. If she could keep Peter distracted, Murphy could ride out the hormonal wave and keep using his headshot as target practice on her dartboard. This too would pass. It was a temporary fever in the brain. Much like the idea of dating Mitchell had been.
She pushed off from her narcissistic mirror examination and went to check on Avery, who was half awake and wanted attention. She pulled him into her arms and settled into the rocking chair, holding him while he snuggled close. It was old fashioned of her, but there was a part of her soul that truly wished for a father for him. Preferably for his actual father to show up and be a presence, but that was a pipe dream she’d been holding on to for over twenty years. Jake wouldn’t change, and she couldn’t expect him to.
It wasn’t long before Avery had drifted off again, and Murphy hefted him up (how had he grown so fast?) and carried him back with her to her room. He snuggled down and she joined him, stroking his fine blonde hair and hoping desperately that the choices she was making wouldn’t screw him up forever.
Author: vegawriters
Fandom: Murphy Brown
Pairing: Murphy Brown/Mitchell Baldwin
Rating: General
Timeframe: Black, White, and Red All Over (season 6)
A/N: I appear to be writing a "Murphy's Lovers" series and didn't even realize it ...
Disclaimer: The rules as ever apply: I don’t make a dime from this. I do however make friends while gushing about Candice and Diane and all of the concepts this show created.
Summary: She didn’t need a Prince. But a King would be nice. Someone to stand with her, an equal. She hated that she was lonely, hated that she wanted that companionship. But she did. And as the clock ticked ever closer to an age where even she was scared to tread, she was starting to wonder if her future was full of men like Baldwin: beautiful, driven, and completely dispassionate. At least, when it came to her.
Her first clue was the awkward, post dinner kiss after the museum fundraiser. She appreciated the effort, especially considering that Mitchell Baldwin was a damn fine man to look at, but when his lips touched hers after that first date, there just wasn’t anything that made her want to pull him back inside and keep him there. Oh, she liked him. He was smart and funny - in a stiff, network executive kind of way. The music choices needed work, but the car was nice, and he smelled great.
God, she was such a cliche sometimes.
Eldin was dozing in the den. She opted to let him sleep, and crept up the stairs to check on Avery. He was drooling into the tail of the stuffed whale Jerry had given her after he’d been born and she paused for a moment, wishing he’d been able to get over his own bullshit and just exist with them. But kids scared the crap out of him and the more Avery became a person, the more Jerry needed his distance. Too busy with kid and job to fight him, Murphy had let him drift away and even now, she took her time answering the occasional phone message. It just wasn’t worth putting her heart through the hope that somehow, they’d figure each other out long enough to craft a long term relationship.
It was strange. Despite now having her “mommy” mug at the office, she was still tough, self-centered, focused on her work and her child and making sense of the world at large. But it didn’t change the reality that a part of her, a part of her she just didn’t understand, wanted love and romance and to be swept off her feet and placed on the back of a white horse. She didn’t need a Prince. But a King would be nice. Someone to stand with her, an equal. She hated that she was lonely, hated that she wanted that companionship. But she did. And as the clock ticked ever closer to an age where even she was scared to tread, she was starting to wonder if her future was full of men like Baldwin: beautiful, driven, and completely dispassionate. At least, when it came to her.
She tiptoed from the nursery before Avery woke to realize she was there and made her way back to her bedroom, slowly unzipping her dress as she went. The last time anyone had done this for her, she’d been three months pregnant and Jerry escorted her to a dinner at the Press Club. They’d come back and fallen into bed, and he’d spent more time enjoying the fact that her chest was bigger than he had almost anything else. His chance to make it up to her had been sidelined that having sex while dealing with preterm labor symptoms hadn’t exactly been something the doctors endorsed. He’d asked though. Of course he had.
Groaning, Murphy slid the dress from her body and stepped out of it, taking the time to hang it up. It wasn’t like it had been rumpled after all. She chucked the strapless bra and took her time rolling down the thigh high stockings she’d donned, just in case. She unclasped her shoes, unsnapped the garter belt, and crashed down onto her bed clad only in her satin underwear and jewelry. All this effort gone because things just felt awkward with Mitchell. Maybe he just needed time to warm up.
Donning her green satin pj’s, Murphy sat again at her vanity, brushing out her hair and removing her makeup. Was it obvious that she wore eyelashes on the show now? That she’d given in to her own personal demons and traded in her regular bras for those push up ones? Just for show night. Were her highlights even more obvious now?
God. Who was she?
She was a woman in her mid-forties in an industry that preferred Katie Couric to Linda Ellerbee. She had nothing against Katie, who was a brilliant reporter in her own right, but the future was a perky one, and Murphy was hardly that.
Face cream applied, Murphy crawled back to bed, her body primed for Avery’s 4 AM wakeup. At eighteen months, he was sleeping through and had even managed his sleep regression with the best of them, but the last few months he’d taken to a 4 AM cry that usually left her frustrated since getting back to sleep for only a couple of hours was a disaster for her. But right now, she had five hours. It was almost a full night at this point.
No wonder men were turned off by motherhood. After all, she could barely keep her eyes open for herself, let alone anyone who might possibly want to have sex with her. So she fell asleep with Mitchell’s awkward kiss lingering on her lips. At least it was something. Some kind of interest.
***
Her second clue came after the third date. After the second, they’d ended up at her place, laughing over the stupidity of the people around them. Everyone was clearly so shocked to see them together. The laughter had turned into a kiss which turned into a handsy, if slightly awkward, makeout session on the couch that had ended with his hand pressing between her legs and her reaching to unzip his fly. Avery’s cry - which turned out to be the precursor to a fever - had stopped them and she could see Mitchell doing his best to not appear relieved. She wasn’t sure if it was because of her, the baby, or that even still after that moment, things felt awkward.
After the third date though, she knew her inkling was more than a feeling. But they spent too much time laughing at the people who did double takes to see a tall black man with a tall white woman. This was DC for god's sake, it wasn’t like interracial relationships were that uncommon. Then again, for women in her circle of celebrity, the numbers were few and far between. The muffins from Ted Danson had been a fun touch.
All that aside, it was only after he’d dropped her at her place with a chaste good night kiss did Murphy realize all they really talked about was the attention both of them hated.
***
Reality sunk in the first night they tried something different. This wasn’t courtside seats at the Bullets game or first row at the Kennedy Center. No, he was cooking. At her place even. “Maybe I should actually spend time with you and Avery,” he’d said, a sheepish smile crossing his face. He was nervous, she knew. But he’d been great and Avery had loved the slices of fresh pepper Mitchell had given him before bedtime. Alone though, the silence descended.
They had nothing to go on.
She hated foreign movies (she didn’t want to, but she did!) and spending time cooking. He didn’t like cartoons. It was funny that those were the main differences, but it was the same alarm that chimed the first time he put Garth Brooks on in the car. Some hurdles just couldn’t be jumped and despite similar politics and a deep desire to know more about the world, they really had nothing in common and he clearly didn’t want to see her naked. If he had, three weeks into this, they’d have skipped dinner and gone straight to the bedroom. Instead, it was awkward conversation on the couch.
This was where she should have been in his lap. Where his hands should have been tugging on her shirt. Eldin was gone and Avery was asleep and suddenly she’d wanted to be anywhere but in her living room because it meant owning up to the reality that they weren’t going to work and the failure was exhausting.
She could have used a kiss when he left, not Eldin coming in with his smart mouth and newly inspired muse. But at least if he was here, he’d keep an eye on things and she could go rub oil into her recently waxed legs and maybe get some sleep for a few hours.
Tonight’s pj’s were a ratted pair of leggings and a Bullets shirt she’d stolen from a boyfriend years ago. Hardly sexy, hardly anything other than functional. She washed her face, pulled her hair back, rubbed cream into her laugh lines. Unbidden, Josh flashed into her mind. Once, she’d been someone who commanded the attention of younger men. Josh had devoured her body, leaving her gasping and sated and ready for more. Within moments she’d wanted him to push her against the nearest flat surface and tease her until she called his name. Would he still find her irresistible? With her stretch marks and slightly sagging breasts and softer stomach? Even though she’d lost the weight, her body had changed. She wasn’t always happy with what remained. She ran her hand over her hair, trying to push away images of men like Josh, men like Peter.
Peter.
Staring at her reflection, she rolled her eyes at the blush that crossed her face at the very thought of the younger, sexy reporter. The one who clearly had eyes for Corky. The one who teased her and taunted her and at night, wandered into her dreams to leave her writhing. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her feelings hidden. Thankfully, Corky had her covered. If she could keep Peter distracted, Murphy could ride out the hormonal wave and keep using his headshot as target practice on her dartboard. This too would pass. It was a temporary fever in the brain. Much like the idea of dating Mitchell had been.
She pushed off from her narcissistic mirror examination and went to check on Avery, who was half awake and wanted attention. She pulled him into her arms and settled into the rocking chair, holding him while he snuggled close. It was old fashioned of her, but there was a part of her soul that truly wished for a father for him. Preferably for his actual father to show up and be a presence, but that was a pipe dream she’d been holding on to for over twenty years. Jake wouldn’t change, and she couldn’t expect him to.
It wasn’t long before Avery had drifted off again, and Murphy hefted him up (how had he grown so fast?) and carried him back with her to her room. He snuggled down and she joined him, stroking his fine blonde hair and hoping desperately that the choices she was making wouldn’t screw him up forever.