Fic: A Good Problem to Have
Title: A Good Problem to Have
Author: vegawriters
Fandom: Murphy Brown
Pairing: Murphy/Peter
Rating: If you aren’t old enough to watch porn, you aren’t old enough to read this.
Timeframe: Just like Riding a Bike (season 6)
A/N: They’re my ride or die ship. Deal. And if you want the reasons why, just ask. I’ll tell you in very specific detail why they were perfect for each other and it isn’t just because of Scott Bakula’s pecs and there are some things that can’t be forgiven. *ahem*
Disclaimer: It’s all Diane. Even the stuff she didn’t write. I don’t make a dime. But really, please bring Peter back.
This is for viktoire, who is (at the moment) the only other one out there who cries and gnashes her teeth like I do over there two nitwits.
Summary: Inside the casing was a roll of blue paper and she pulled it free and pressed it to her lips. She couldn’t help but wonder if women Corky’s age did this. If they had the same connection to scrawl on paper, a moment in time from a warzone half a world away. She had a box full of letters from the years, some from lovers, some from friends, some she’d written and never sent to men like Jake, women like Jessie. It had been a long time since she’d indulged in the power of the silence of a war zone letter.
For once, her secretary didn’t suck. Carol thought like she did, worked like she did. She knew what was missing, anticipated her moves. And best of all, she was discreet. Really, whoever sent her over was to be rewarded.
The package was on top of her other correspondence, opened but clearly not read. Just with a post it - You’ll want to take a minute with this one.
It was an airmail envelope, battered and bruised and dated weeks ago, but there was something inside. Still, Murphy couldn’t stop herself from running her fingers across the familiar handwriting, tracing his name with her finger.
Peter Hunt
She hated that she couldn’t separate her heart from her libido, that every day away from him became something tender and aching rather than resentful. It was like they’d had four months of a secret only they shared, but it had been four months of what exactly? Teasing? Flirting? It wasn’t like they’d admitted anything until the last night. And then he’d vanished and she was left remembering how his hand caressed her side and how his lips felt on her neck and god if he could just do that flutter thing again, she’d be a happy woman.
One of her dirty secrets was that she’d been in favor of the 17th Anniversary show even though it was a stupid anniversary to celebrate because he might come back into town. She might get to lock him in her office and finish what they started. She might get to tease him again. Kiss him again. She might get to feel how his hand reached for hers almost on instinct, how their bodies seemed to fit together perfectly.
Shaking her head, she opened the envelope and peeked inside, busting out laughing. Inside was a spent shell casing. She pulled it out carefully and couldn’t help but stop to inhale the faint smell of gunpowder and dust. This right here was why she liked him. Anyone could just send a letter.
Inside the casing was a roll of blue paper and she pulled it free and pressed it to her lips. She couldn’t help but wonder if women Corky’s age did this. If they had the same connection to scrawl on paper, a moment in time from a warzone half a world away. She had a box full of letters from the years, some from lovers, some from friends, some she’d written and never sent to men like Jake, women like Jessie. It had been a long time since she’d indulged in the power of the silence of a war zone letter.
And quickly, she realized, this was a love letter.
Dear Murphy,
Am I screwing this up yet? Writing to you from a bunker in Bosnia? Once the shelling stops, I hear I’m going to Peru but you know how that goes.
I can’t stop thinking about us. About the promise I made to you, that I’m better with two arms. I am. I swear. Your face keeps telling me to stay down, stupid, so I’m here. Staying down.
I can’t stop thinking about how you just seem to fit right against me in all the ways that men and women are supposed to fit together. I can’t stop thinking about that time I cornered you in the stairwell with the box of stale donuts. About the night in your office when I just couldn’t bring myself to leave you.
Did you know then? I want to think I shattered some wall with the power of my kiss, but really, did you know then? Did you know already? That whatever this is between us is building to … something?
I wish I’d stayed that night. Caught a later flight. I should have taken you upstairs and slipped you out of that jacket. Watched you take off the necklace you were wearing. Piece by piece, the jewelry falling away. I might be partial to that scarf though.
She shivered. His unwinding the scarf while he kissed her had been one of the most heady moments of her life and she still fell into the memory when she was alone in bed. He was right - he should have taken a later flight.
I wanted to watch you slide out of that camisole, wanted to pull your bra from you and just press my face between your breasts and stay there as long as I could. I spent the whole flight thinking about how your nipples reacted to my fingers, how you moaned when my mouth found yours, how when you slid onto my lap, we should have said to hell with professionalism. The way you moved that night, it was clear that office has been the location of more than one tryst for you.
I want to add my name to that list.
She chuckled and put the letter against her heart. “Oh, Petey. You have no idea.” A glance toward her door reminded her the lock had been installed. When was he coming back?
I want to push you against the desk and this time, the intercom won’t buzz. I want to slide those skirts you wear up, all the way, and give myself a full view of those legs that go all the way up. God, do you have any idea how sexy you are? Irritating, yes. And sexy. I’ve been dreaming about you a lot longer than you realize, Murphy.
Really, since that day in the stairwell. Longer, if I let myself admit exactly when it started. Before you punched me.
I almost kissed you that day. With the donuts. Almost just grabbed you and pulled you against me and I wouldn’t have cared who was watching. I don’t think you would have either.
My arm is healed, you know. And I want my arms around you, I want to feel you like I did that night in your office. On your couch. I want to run my hand up the inside of your thigh and slide into your folds and press into your body. If we’re going to crash and burn, I want to call your name at least once while you pull me inside of you. When I have the chance to be alone, and I see your face, oh, you’re doing more than telling me to stay down. I’m going down, wrapping your legs around my shoulders, I’m tasting you, feeling you pull my hair while I make love to you with my mouth.
If you haven’t gathered yet, I miss you.
She groaned. This wasn’t fair. This really wasn’t fair. And he’d sent it to her at work. Why the hell couldn’t it have gone to her house, where she could have taken it to bed with her vibrator? But that was his plan all along. She could see him addressing it with a smirk, knowing she’d get it here, knowing she’d have to manage what this would do to her. He probably hoped it would show up right before a story meeting and she’d have to sit there, soaking wet, knowing that wherever he was in the world, he was stroking himself and calling her name. He clearly understood what she was doing in her spare time.
God, this wasn’t fair.
He wasn’t fair.
At least this hadn’t come before a story meeting. For an instant, she contemplated locking the door and just giving herself the gratification of a fast orgasm, but a part of her wanted what he wanted. He’d sent this to her here to taunt her, to make her want more in the moment. She could wait. And tonight, it would be a long bath, another re-read of how he wanted to cradle her against him and slide, slowly, inside of her. How he wanted to meet her eyes and link their fingers and
… feel you wrap your legs around my hips. I’ve been dreaming about your legs since the first time I saw you in one of your skirts at the office. For such a professional woman, you can make me completely lose my mind with just a glance.
She fanned herself with the letter. When was he coming back to DC again?
I’ll be back as soon as I can. I wish I could call, could warn you, but you know how this is. You know how it’s going to go. And we both know I can’t make promises that war zones won’t let me keep. But I don’t have anything lined up after Peru.
I’ll see you soon. Hopefully, I’ll see more of you soon. A lot more.
I miss you, Murphy.
-Peter
p.s. I don’t expect a response to this. I know how impossible it is to get mail in to the locations where I’m going. We’ll find a way, eventually. But I hope when you get this, you’re … inspired.
Inspired indeed. She needed ten minutes alone in the bathroom. Jeeze.
He was in Peru now, she knew. A month of segments she’d watched by herself, trying not to get lost in how he conducted his interviews, how those interviewing him kept getting tripped up by the local disasters. All of his arrogance aside, he was a brilliant reporter and handled it all in stride. Never once did she feel worry for his safety, which was exactly what an international reporter was supposed to be able to manage. Still, when a day went by without a report, her heart skipped a beat. Journalists were hardly safe.
It shouldn’t be too hard to get the address of the hotel. But by the time the letter got there, he’d be on a plane to nowhere and her wishes for exactly how he’d work her body would be left to some hotel jockey and she definitely didn’t want that.
She also needed to get back to work. But before she moved on to the stack of transcripts she needed to cull through - good old fashioned research would do the trick to calm her down - she slid the letter into her purse after pressing it to her lips one more time.
Wherever he was, he couldn’t come back soon enough.
***
Standing in the children’s section of Bridge Street Books, Murphy watched Avery pull titles off the shelves and calculated which ones they already had and which ones she was willing to spoil him with. Really, it was all of them. He couldn’t have too many and since he was eternally sticky anyway, backups were good. It was the one thing she didn’t understand about her son - how he could be fresh out of a bath and still be sticky.
The children’s section was next to the current events section and while Avery turned pages in books she was already planning on buying, Murphy’s eyes scanned the book covers. Biographies crammed the shelves, but a few newer, hotter items were on display and her eyes fell on a collection of interviews given by foreign correspondents. She remembered the network handing over a couple of transcripts of hers to the publisher, she just didn’t realize it was out already. Peter was one of the people on the cover, standing there on a tank, in his flack jacket with the subtle but prominently placed bullet hole, and her fingers reached out to touch. She picked up the book, staring at the image of her … what was Peter anyway? Well, that was still to be defined.
But she missed him. She missed the smirk on his face, the way he invaded her personal space. She didn’t need to buy this. Hell, she was sure somewhere in her piles of unopened mail, there was her copy from the publisher. But he was right here and the visions of that letter still danced in her head.
She felt a tug on her jeans and looked down. Avery was grinning up at her, a book in one hand, a trail of others behind him. She chuckled and knelt down, touching his nose. How would he react to her having someone in her life? And she hadn’t even talked with Peter about Avery. The couple of times Peter had interacted with her son, it had gone well. He seemed to like him. But it was one thing to like your co-worker’s kid, it was another to date a single mother. She helped Avery gather his books and let him carry one to the counter. She was still holding the book with Peter on the cover and as she set the stack down, she realized how much of an idiot she seemed. Quickly, she slipped the book onto the discard pile by the register.
But as she reached for her credit card, her eye fell on a box of leather bound journals still behind the counter.
“Are those for sale?” She asked.
Once, she’d carried notebooks like those - soft leather covers tied together with a simple string. Over time, her reporter’s notebook had evolved into a more practical Moleskine, but she still had a soft spot for the sewn spines and soft covers. An idea was percolating.
“We just hadn’t put them out yet. Are you interested?”
“I’ll take two,” Murphy said. “Just the two on the top is fine.”
The cashier nodded and slipped the notebooks into the bag before adding them to the order. Avery wanted to carry his book still, so Murphy handed it over and he toddled after her until they hit the street, where she scooped him up in one arm before he could make friends with the cars. He wiggled, but settled, which was helpful considering Murphy was only half-paying attention to him. The other part of her brain was in Peru.
***
Avery was playing on his mat in the library, building towers out of his blocks. Aretha Franklin sang in the background, and Murphy settled at the desk, keeping an eye on her son while retrieving Peter’s letter out of her purse and sliding it into the back of her reporter’s notebook. She couldn’t send letters like Peter could. But she could write them. And when he was back, she’d hand them over. If she found the nerve.
Shaking hands opened the notebook. She uncapped the pen she’d bought just for this and started to write.
Peter,
I got your letter. Jackass. You had to send it to me at work. You’ll be happy to know that I fanned my way through a story meeting and an editing session and by the time I got home, I was a hot mess.
Convincing your nanny to stick around an extra half hour so you can shower in privacy to work out the … energy … is not always that easy.
I’m like a schoolgirl. Blushing and tingling and not quite sure how to define these emotions. You make me feel beautiful again. I haven’t felt that way since before Avery was born. Really, since the day he was conceived.
Speaking of … I have a story to tell you about that desk.
Avery’s blocks crashed to the floor, startling her from the letter and startling him to tears. Murphy closed the notebook. Sweet nothings for her … whatever he was … would have to wait.
“Hey, sweetheart,” she said as she joined him. “Let’s rebuild it together, okay?”
Her focus shifted, right back to her son. Peter and the letters could wait. After all, once he got a hint of what it meant to date someone with an almost two-year-old, he’d probably run screaming. Everyone else had. But it was okay, because she and Avery had each other and as much as she liked Peter, she didn’t need him. All she needed was this little boy and a good story to chase. Everything else was just extra.
But, judging by the way Peter kissed her, he would be a very special extra.
***
Every single cell in her body froze. There he stood in the middle of the newsroom, and she did her best to maintain their banter. After all, he hadn’t called. He’d only sent the one letter. He’d probably only come by to use the phone. Dear god, he looked good. He’d cut his hair a bit, shaved. And he was still in that denim jacket that really, she found incredibly sexy. It took every ounce of control to just snap at him and walk away, reminding him there was a phone two blocks down the street, and hope to god he’d follow her into her office. Please follow her.
He did, clearly frustrated, and the second she closed her office door, she had her arms around him and her lips against his. It had been way too long. He responded, pulling her tight against his body and she wanted to go right now. Please, her mind begged, don’t let go.
“Did you get my letter?” He asked. She sighed and pressed herself even closer. Of course she got his letter. The shell casing was now in her bedside table. But she had to be in editing in two minutes and thanks to Avery being sick part of the week, she was behind on this story, so it wasn’t a meeting she could reschedule. Her producer wouldn’t care about her libido.
“I can do two minutes,” he teased. Oh, it wouldn’t take her more than thirty seconds at this rate, but that smartass line deserved some smartass in return.
“You know,” she said, laughing has his hand found hers again. It always did. “Most women wouldn’t consider that a selling point.”
He had the grace to blush. He also had the grace to pull her close while she teased him, while she explained that some women like to be wooed. And the kiss he gave her before bursting out of her office, making it sound like they’d been fighting, left her weak in the knees. Screw wooing. She’d be okay with two minutes. But he went along with her, promised to be there at eight, and she giggled as Corky yet again threw herself at him while not throwing herself at him. Of all of them, she’d been right, she’d figured out Murphy had a thing for Peter. But somehow, Murphy had managed to convince her - and herself - that she was wrong. Well, now who was the idiot. But she and Peter exchanged a glance as he got on the elevator and she just let herself sit there in the lingering feel of his arms around her and the way his body pressed against hers and god, how he always just reached for her hand.
Crap.
She was due in editing.
***
One look at his chest and she panicked. She thought she’d pushed through the insecurities once she got home. She’d showered, done her hair, fixed her makeup, donned something comfortable but not overtly seductive. She didn’t want to be trying too hard, she didn’t want him to be put off either. She’d shaved and oiled her legs and rubbed lotion absolutely everywhere on her body that she could reach.
Hopefully he wouldn’t notice the stretch marks. Or how her breasts really no longer had anything perky left to them. God, she was 46 years old. What the hell was she thinking? But he wanted her and the last time in her office, he’d been pretty sure of what he wanted. So she’d shoved the insecurities into their usual box in her mind, buttoned up an extra button on the vest, and went to find the Smokey Robinson and ask Eldin stupid questions about condoms.
But now she’d ripped his shirt open and he was poised above her and she could feel him so close and God. He looked so good. So she did the only thing she could think of - she panicked and fled to the bathroom.
Now, Murphy stared at herself in the mirror, horrified at the image that stared back. He looked like he could walk a runway and she … what was she thinking? Of course he’d been turned on in her office. He couldn’t see the mess of her body. They should have had sex then. They could have just gone their separate ways. Or at least had this anticipation out of the way. Now he had time to think, to judge her, to realize that women like Corky were really his speed.
God, a beautiful man was waiting in her bed and she couldn’t get it together enough to get out there. When had that happened? When had she gone from a woman who revealed in her ability to attract younger men to a woman scared to be touched by one? Where was Jerry when she needed him. He was at least her age. Not that he’d been around since Avery was born. What the hell did Peter see in her?
She had to get out there. At least let him see what he was getting and let her down easy. She had her vibrator. It was fine. She donned a ratted t-shirt, a baggy hoodie, and tiptoed back into the bedroom, still in full on panic.
She had to give him credit, though. Peter could see right through her, and he tried to play along. He could tell she was hiding, and she appreciated his different tactics. He tried playful, he tried dominant, he tried gentle. Still, she couldn’t get comfortable. She couldn’t get past the image in the mirror. She couldn’t forget that when she was born, Truman was president and for him, it was Eisenhower. She evaded, she squirmed, and finally she was honest.
“I’m not twenty-five anymore,” she admitted, staring at his chest. “Contents may have shifted during flight.” Didn’t he get it? Why didn’t he get it? He was seven years younger than she was. He could have any woman in the world. Most of the men too. Why the hell was he here in her bed? Why wasn’t he just leaving her to keep this part of her life shut down?
Finally, she’d pushed him to the limit. Well, at least that was what it looked like. And then she heard it, the subtle challenge.
“I was gonna be really great tonight.”
Oh the bastard.
She jumped out of bed, the laughter starting to bubble over, her confidence returning. What did it say about her that she could only get comfortable in the bedroom with a challenge underway? But suddenly, they both stopped and just looked at each other and she knew he would leave if she really felt uncomfortable and that made everything fall into place a bit better.
If she’d trust him, if she’d trust herself, they could have a ton of fun tonight. They stared at each other, the breath tight between them. This was the moment of truth. She could hide back under the comforter and never know what they could have together. He’d leave, and they could move on with their lives. He’d go back to the women she wasn’t like. She’d go back to life with her kid and work. The complete life she bragged about. Maybe Jake would come back. Maybe Jerry would find her beautiful again. After all, whenever either of them needed an itch scratched, they came to her and that was something to be proud of, right?
Murphy didn’t want to go back to life before Peter. Not yet. She liked that he was as intrigued by her as she was by him. She liked how he touched her, how he kissed her, how he looked at her like she really was the only woman in the world. They’d talk about his kiss with Corky later. Right now, she took her insecurities and threw them aside while wrapping her arms around his neck and pushing him back on the bed. To hell with Truman. And Eisenhower too.
He ripped her t-shirt off her body, she tugged at the pants he’d put back on. In moments they were naked and he stopped only to reach for his wallet and the condom inside. He was right, he could do two minutes, and right now, she didn’t care. She wanted his body deep inside of her own.
After the initial rush, while they caught their breath, he proved himself worthy.
He kissed his way up her legs, parting her thighs and burying his face between them for a long moment before continuing his journey. He paused, kissing the space where her leg and hip came together. Her body caught fire and she gasped at the touch of his tongue to her skin.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he made his way up her body. The softness of her stomach became beautiful as his hands moved across her, his mouth devoured her breasts, and when he finally settled back up between her thighs again, she was panting and he was hard.
She sat up, rolling the condom onto him, and rolling them so she took control, sliding down onto him. His hands steadied her hips and she moved, slowly, drawing out each motion. God help her if Avery suddenly needed anything, because he’d have to wait.
Peter was touching her, his long fingers working between her legs as she rode him. He brought her to the edge more than once, leaving her gasping, before flipping them and taking her, her hands pinned above her head while they both cursed each other’s names.
It was absolutely amazing.
Murphy reveled in exploring his body, in letting her tongue follow her fingers across the plane of his chest. She kissed her way down his stomach, pausing before sliding her lips onto his cock, enjoying the curse that emerged as she did so. He reached not for her head but for her hand while she blew him, linking their fingers, and pulling her away before he came. It was the first time she’d ever enjoyed giving head. He repaid the favor, laying her flat and wrapping her legs over his shoulders while he brought her to the brink with his tongue against her clit.
She pushed him back, settling into his lap, almost forgetting the little foil package on the nightstand, but she reached for it and rolled it onto him, taking her time. His eyes never left hers.
It was the most erotic night of her life.
Sated - she slipped to the bathroom before crawling back into bed. Peter had pulled the sheet to the side, giving them a slightly drier place to sleep. She took his hand and curled up against his naked body.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“For what?” His hand was stroking through her hair and if it weren’t four in the morning, she’d want to go for one more round.
“Not letting me hide,” she said. “I’d have thrown you out rather than … get over myself.”
“You have nothing to get over, Murphy. But I’m glad you realized you could trust me. You’re beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”
She gave in to the need for one last kiss before sleep claimed them both.
***
Once the embarrassment of her coworkers seeing Peter emerge in only a towel faded, Murphy couldn’t help but revel in the fact that she’d showed up Corky. The beauty queen had matured over the years, but she still seemed to think that life ended at 40 and as the hot water of the shower massaged her exhausted muscles, Murphy groaned into a stretch she hadn’t needed in a long time. Oh, last night had been amazing.
It had been since Jerry she felt so worshipped, and even with Jerry, she hadn’t felt as cherished. They’d played and laughed and touched and stroked. Yes, Peter had been worth waiting for. Her only heartbreak was that chances were, he’d been scared off by their morning humiliation. He was probably on a plane already. She’d wasted good money on a notebook she could fill with letters he’d really never see. Maybe she’d give them to Miles. He wanted Peter around so much, he could read all of the steamy nothings.
Okay, so maybe she was a little pissed they hadn’t all just left when she told them to. Right now, she could be still wrapped in Peter’s arms and calling out of work. Really, Miles, she just couldn’t get out of bed today. Instead, she had to face her humiliation and find her way past the looks she’d be getting for a week.
Eldin had Avery down in the library when she came downstairs. They shared a knowing look, and she was glad he didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure when he’d shown up, but she was glad for his discretion this morning.
“Bye, sweetie,” she said, placing a kiss on his head. “Mommy will see you later.”
“I’ll uh, take him to his gymboree class today if you like,” Eldin offered. Friday afternoons she usually did it, leaving after lunch and returning to the office for a late night. In that moment, she realized how brutally disappointed she was over Peter leaving this morning before they had a chance to talk.
“Yeah,” she said. “That might be a good idea. Thanks, Eldin.” She just wasn’t sure she could face all of those other parents today.
He just nodded. Murphy gathered her bag and headed in to work. She could get through this. There weren’t any meetings, she didn’t have an editing bay scheduled. She could do research and try to put her feelings in order. She did grab the notebook she’d bought for letters to Peter and put it in her bag.
She stepped off the elevator to a smattering of applause, which only made everything worse. Frank was pouting. The rest of the team was nowhere to be found. On silent steps, she approached her office, wondering if maybe she should just go home and work there. By Monday, everyone would forget about this. Right?
But her heart caught in her throat. Peter was there, cleaned up a little bit, putting down the picture of her and Avery from the hospital. He was here. He wanted to talk. The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity before he ducked his head in that way that wasn’t supposed to be so damn sexy.
“We’ve got a problem,” he admitted. Her heart sank. This was it. He’d had his fun with the older woman and now he was done and she filed last night away in her “remember this when you’re lonely” part of her brain. And then he surprised her. “Last night was incredible.” They both let out a chuckle. “How is this supposed to blow up in our faces when …”
“I know …”
They just stared at each other and the reality hit her, full on. She wanted him. Whenever she could get him, however they could be together. She didn’t just want him in her bed, she wanted him. She knew her life would now include hoping she caught the phone, not feeling guilty when she didn’t, and scanning the mail for letters. She had to accept that every time he did a report near a bullet, she’d be praying he’d remember to duck. She knew she wouldn’t have any problem splitting up the Sunday paper - although a vacation away might be taxing. And she might even be willing to share her popcorn at the movies if he kept kissing her like that.
He was here for three days. Well. Two more. She had him today, tomorrow, and part of Sunday before he headed back to Eastern Europe. “Let’s go face the group,” she said after they broke apart. “As much as I’d love to lock you in here with me, I think I’d rather go get breakfast and then head back to my place.”
“Sounds good to me.” His hand was in hers again. Oh, this was bad. It was really bad. She led him out of the office and faced the gang who had suddenly all gathered. She looked right at Corky while she explained exactly what was going on which was … that they were still figuring it out. But they were going to figure it out away from the office because Peter was leaving again. Yes, she was taking a personal day. Yes, they all knew what that meant. Right now, she just didn’t care. Right now, she wanted to be wrapped in Peter’s arms and her friends could shove off.
In the elevator, she leaned against him. “Your car or mine?”
“Why don’t I go grab breakfast and coffee,” Peter suggested. “We’ll meet back at your place. I should … probably grab a change of clothes.”
She chuckled. “Fair enough.” It occurred to her she had no idea if he even kept an apartment in DC anymore. But right now, she just wanted him back in her bed. Questions like that could be answered later. “Eldin’s already promised a wide berth today. I’ll make sure it stays that way.”
Peter laughed. At her car in the garage, he kissed her again. And again. And again. Until she wasn’t sure if she could drive home safely. Finally he backed away and she slipped behind the wheel and broke more laws than usual racing home.
This time, she would be ready for him.
***
By the time Peter showed up, Eldin had taken Avery off to gymboree, with the promise of an after class walk through the park and dinner elsewhere. Tomorrow she’d face reality and play single mom with a … boyfriend? That was a strange word for her mind to process. Today she just wanted Peter in bed with her.
She ordered Chinese takeout and shoved it in the fridge - just in case they needed to eat later. She pulled her hair out of its braid, slipped into a pair of silk pj bottoms and a tank top she knew left very little to the imagination. Wooing was done.
Thankfully, Peter was exactly on her wavelength. Yes, he showed up with a bag of donuts and two cups of coffee, but they were left on the table in the foyer while she dragged him back to the couch.
“We’re okay?” He groaned, pulling her shirt up.
“For the rest of the afternoon,” she chuckled. It was the last thing they said to each other for half an hour, until he realized he didn’t have any more condoms in his wallet.
“I might have over bought the other day …” she said, racing up the stairs to retrieve the bag she’d tossed aside. He followed her and they made their way back into the bedroom. “I was … a bit … nervous.” She grabbed a box from the bag and walked to him where he’d taken a seat on the edge of the bed, enjoying how his eyes roved over her, how his body reacted.
“I appreciate the confidence,” Peter said, taking her hand as she came back to him. “And I also appreciate being able to see you like this.” He pressed a kiss to her stomach, his hands moving around her hips back to her ass, stroking slowly. Murphy tangled her fingers in his hair and let him love her imperfections, the stretch marks and the soft spaces. “You are stunning,” he said, looking up at her. “I wish you could see you like I see you.”
“I’ll take what you’re giving me,” she murmured. He pulled her onto his lap and rolled them so he was nestled between her legs, his erection pushing against her. They stopped just long enough to open the package they’d taken the time to retrieve. He came back to her, sliding into her body, and Murphy lost herself completely to the moment.
***
Saturday dawned far too early. Murphy woke to the sound of Avery pushing on the bedroom door and she lept to consciousness, pulling Peter’s shirt around her. Thankfully, Peter was buried in the blankets.
“Why don’t you go back in your room and play for a few minutes. Mommy will finish getting dressed and we can have breakfast, okay?”
Avery pouted but did as asked. Murphy ducked into the shower to rinse off. Peter slept on, though she noticed he’d taken her pillow and pulled it against him in his sleep. The gesture made her heart swell. How was she going to handle him leaving again?
An hour later, Peter came down the stairs, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Murphy glanced up from where she and Avery were playing with his puzzle board. “There’s coffee in the kitchen. And pop tarts.”
“Pop tarts sound perfect.” He said, dropping a kiss to her hair as he walked past. Avery’s eyes widened to see the stranger in the house and he climbed down off the couch and followed Peter into the kitchen. Nervous, Murphy followed.
“Avery, I don’t know if you remember, but this is my friend Peter. He’s staying with us for a couple of days.”
“Hi!” Avery chirped.
Murphy held her breath. Peter only made his case even stronger as he knelt down in front of her son. “Hey, Avery. So is it cool if I hang with you and your mom for a while?”
Avery nodded, a huge grin on his face. “We’re playin puzzle.”
“Well, I’ll have to join you.” Peter stood back up and poured his coffee. Murphy stepped close and raised her lips for a kiss. It felt so disgustingly domestic, and yet perfect. She really could get used to this.
Puzzle time turned into Peter and Avery chasing each other around the backyard. Murphy sat back and watched the two of them bond - at least until she was roped into the game of tag. When it was time for Avery’s nap, they tiptoed to the bedroom, also taking advantage of downtime.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” Murphy said, sliding between the sheets. “You’ve known my kid for five minutes and you’ve already charmed him.”
“I’ve technically known him for about six months,” Peter teased, his hand sliding up inside her shirt. “But it’s impossible not to love him. He’s great.”
“Thank you. And yes, he is.” She sighed into the kiss. “And can we stop talking now?”
The afternoon gave way to a walk through the neighborhood, playing at the park, and a dinner picnic in the living room. Somewhere between the apple slices and cheese cubes, Avery climbed into Peter’s lap and asked for a story. Peter instantly obliged, but asking Avery to help him and within moments, they were making up new parts of Jack and the Beanstalk. Avery dozed off in Peter’s arms and Murphy reached for him to put him to bed, but Peter just waved her off. “I’ve got him,” he offered. Carefully, he stood up and Murphy followed as he carried the sleeping toddler to the nursery.
“PJs are in the drawer,” she said softly. Peter changed Avery and settled him in the crib he’d almost grown out of. “Almost time for that big boy bed,” she murmured, rubbing her hand along his back. “To me, he’s still small enough for the cradle by my bed and he’s … well,” she looked up at Peter. “Now he’s old enough to be bonding with my boyfriend.”
“Today was just about perfect,” Peter said, coming up behind her. She leaned back in, the weight of the reality that he would be leaving tomorrow a sudden presence in the room. “I don’t want to go.”
“Is it wrong of me to say not to?” She tilted her head to him. “I mean …”
“Shhhh,” Peter said, leaning in to kiss her. She took his hand and led him back to the bedroom.
The playful tone from earlier faded, giving way to tender touches and slow undressing, but before Peter she was completely naked, Murphy pulled away and went to rescue the journal she’d bought. Returning to the bedroom, she handed it to him.
“I can’t always send letters to you, I know that,” she said, taking a seat on the bed. “I’ll find out where you are and by the time a letter gets through the mess of the mail, you’ll have moved on. So, I’m going to write them here and whenever you are back in town, I’ll give the notebook to you to keep with you. Because I’m going to miss you and I didn’t realize until today just how much.”
“Murphy …” he shook his head and set the journal aside. “This … this is something real, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” she reached out to touch his cheek. “I’m scared that it really is.”
His only response was to kiss her. Murphy lost herself in his touch, feeling the change in his caress. They'd reached that stage, the one beyond just having sex. They made love to each other, slowly, relishing every moment. They still had tonight.
***
Murphy leaned against him, waiting for his flight to board. Avery was at the window, entranced by the planes.
“This isn’t good, Peter.”
“Maybe it’s time we stopped saying that …” he chuckled and held her tighter. She rested her head on his shoulder, one eye on the kid. “Maybe it’s okay that it is good.”
“Yeah,” she murmured, leaning up for a kiss he gladly gave. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’m going to miss you too.” His voice was that low, gentle tone he’d adopted since that first night back at the townhouse. When they tired to shoehorn logic into matters of their hearts. He dropped a kiss to her lips again and she clung to him. Three days just wasn’t enough. This was going to be what broke her. Not the geography, but the leaving.
“Delta flight 1165 with service to London-Heathrow. Now boarding all rows.”
“They’re playing my song,” Peter murmured as he pulled back. He untangled himself and walked over to the window, where Avery was still making “plane noises.” Murphy watched him kneel down and pat Avery on the back and dammit, where were these emotions coming from. She wiped a rebellious tear from the corner of her eye. “Hey, buddy,” Peter whispered. Avery looked at him. “I had a lot of fun with you and your mom this weekend. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
Avery’s eyes got wide. He knew airports meant leaving and he took the hug Peter offered. Walking back, Peter handed Avery over and Murphy cradled him close. “You take care of your mom, okay?” Peter said, trying to smile. He looked at Murphy. “I’ll be home soon.”
The word home wrapped around her like a blanket. “Okay,” she whispered.
She and Avery stayed, waving goodbye, until Peter was on the gangway. Finally, she let Avery down and took his hand, walking back toward the car. This was how it was going to be. She’d just have to figure it out. One day at a time.
***
Peter,
Well, Avery realized when we got to the car that you weren’t coming back with us, and he wailed the whole way home. So you’ve definitely made an impression. On both of us.
This weekend was wonderful. I’ve rarely felt so treasured - and I don’t just mean when we were in bed together. You say you’re lousy at relationships, and that may be true, but really, you’re pretty good when it comes to me.
I like that it’s easy with us - when we let it be. I like that every step isn’t fighting an impulse or well, just fighting. And I love the sex. You have every right to brag, you know. You leaving was the hardest part of the weekend. Well, other than everyone finding out how they did. I wanted our morning together. I’m so glad you were there in my office.
The only thing I don’t love is you being gone. The bed still smells like you. Like us. It’s going to be a while before I’m comfortable sleeping alone again.
This is the part where we blow up, you realize. Because the weekend was wonderful. And now you aren’t here. And I’m already resentful of the universe. Come home safely.
I hope I’ll talk to you soon. I miss you.
-Murphy
Author: vegawriters
Fandom: Murphy Brown
Pairing: Murphy/Peter
Rating: If you aren’t old enough to watch porn, you aren’t old enough to read this.
Timeframe: Just like Riding a Bike (season 6)
A/N: They’re my ride or die ship. Deal. And if you want the reasons why, just ask. I’ll tell you in very specific detail why they were perfect for each other and it isn’t just because of Scott Bakula’s pecs and there are some things that can’t be forgiven. *ahem*
Disclaimer: It’s all Diane. Even the stuff she didn’t write. I don’t make a dime. But really, please bring Peter back.
This is for viktoire, who is (at the moment) the only other one out there who cries and gnashes her teeth like I do over there two nitwits.
Summary: Inside the casing was a roll of blue paper and she pulled it free and pressed it to her lips. She couldn’t help but wonder if women Corky’s age did this. If they had the same connection to scrawl on paper, a moment in time from a warzone half a world away. She had a box full of letters from the years, some from lovers, some from friends, some she’d written and never sent to men like Jake, women like Jessie. It had been a long time since she’d indulged in the power of the silence of a war zone letter.
For once, her secretary didn’t suck. Carol thought like she did, worked like she did. She knew what was missing, anticipated her moves. And best of all, she was discreet. Really, whoever sent her over was to be rewarded.
The package was on top of her other correspondence, opened but clearly not read. Just with a post it - You’ll want to take a minute with this one.
It was an airmail envelope, battered and bruised and dated weeks ago, but there was something inside. Still, Murphy couldn’t stop herself from running her fingers across the familiar handwriting, tracing his name with her finger.
Peter Hunt
She hated that she couldn’t separate her heart from her libido, that every day away from him became something tender and aching rather than resentful. It was like they’d had four months of a secret only they shared, but it had been four months of what exactly? Teasing? Flirting? It wasn’t like they’d admitted anything until the last night. And then he’d vanished and she was left remembering how his hand caressed her side and how his lips felt on her neck and god if he could just do that flutter thing again, she’d be a happy woman.
One of her dirty secrets was that she’d been in favor of the 17th Anniversary show even though it was a stupid anniversary to celebrate because he might come back into town. She might get to lock him in her office and finish what they started. She might get to tease him again. Kiss him again. She might get to feel how his hand reached for hers almost on instinct, how their bodies seemed to fit together perfectly.
Shaking her head, she opened the envelope and peeked inside, busting out laughing. Inside was a spent shell casing. She pulled it out carefully and couldn’t help but stop to inhale the faint smell of gunpowder and dust. This right here was why she liked him. Anyone could just send a letter.
Inside the casing was a roll of blue paper and she pulled it free and pressed it to her lips. She couldn’t help but wonder if women Corky’s age did this. If they had the same connection to scrawl on paper, a moment in time from a warzone half a world away. She had a box full of letters from the years, some from lovers, some from friends, some she’d written and never sent to men like Jake, women like Jessie. It had been a long time since she’d indulged in the power of the silence of a war zone letter.
And quickly, she realized, this was a love letter.
Dear Murphy,
Am I screwing this up yet? Writing to you from a bunker in Bosnia? Once the shelling stops, I hear I’m going to Peru but you know how that goes.
I can’t stop thinking about us. About the promise I made to you, that I’m better with two arms. I am. I swear. Your face keeps telling me to stay down, stupid, so I’m here. Staying down.
I can’t stop thinking about how you just seem to fit right against me in all the ways that men and women are supposed to fit together. I can’t stop thinking about that time I cornered you in the stairwell with the box of stale donuts. About the night in your office when I just couldn’t bring myself to leave you.
Did you know then? I want to think I shattered some wall with the power of my kiss, but really, did you know then? Did you know already? That whatever this is between us is building to … something?
I wish I’d stayed that night. Caught a later flight. I should have taken you upstairs and slipped you out of that jacket. Watched you take off the necklace you were wearing. Piece by piece, the jewelry falling away. I might be partial to that scarf though.
She shivered. His unwinding the scarf while he kissed her had been one of the most heady moments of her life and she still fell into the memory when she was alone in bed. He was right - he should have taken a later flight.
I wanted to watch you slide out of that camisole, wanted to pull your bra from you and just press my face between your breasts and stay there as long as I could. I spent the whole flight thinking about how your nipples reacted to my fingers, how you moaned when my mouth found yours, how when you slid onto my lap, we should have said to hell with professionalism. The way you moved that night, it was clear that office has been the location of more than one tryst for you.
I want to add my name to that list.
She chuckled and put the letter against her heart. “Oh, Petey. You have no idea.” A glance toward her door reminded her the lock had been installed. When was he coming back?
I want to push you against the desk and this time, the intercom won’t buzz. I want to slide those skirts you wear up, all the way, and give myself a full view of those legs that go all the way up. God, do you have any idea how sexy you are? Irritating, yes. And sexy. I’ve been dreaming about you a lot longer than you realize, Murphy.
Really, since that day in the stairwell. Longer, if I let myself admit exactly when it started. Before you punched me.
I almost kissed you that day. With the donuts. Almost just grabbed you and pulled you against me and I wouldn’t have cared who was watching. I don’t think you would have either.
My arm is healed, you know. And I want my arms around you, I want to feel you like I did that night in your office. On your couch. I want to run my hand up the inside of your thigh and slide into your folds and press into your body. If we’re going to crash and burn, I want to call your name at least once while you pull me inside of you. When I have the chance to be alone, and I see your face, oh, you’re doing more than telling me to stay down. I’m going down, wrapping your legs around my shoulders, I’m tasting you, feeling you pull my hair while I make love to you with my mouth.
If you haven’t gathered yet, I miss you.
She groaned. This wasn’t fair. This really wasn’t fair. And he’d sent it to her at work. Why the hell couldn’t it have gone to her house, where she could have taken it to bed with her vibrator? But that was his plan all along. She could see him addressing it with a smirk, knowing she’d get it here, knowing she’d have to manage what this would do to her. He probably hoped it would show up right before a story meeting and she’d have to sit there, soaking wet, knowing that wherever he was in the world, he was stroking himself and calling her name. He clearly understood what she was doing in her spare time.
God, this wasn’t fair.
He wasn’t fair.
At least this hadn’t come before a story meeting. For an instant, she contemplated locking the door and just giving herself the gratification of a fast orgasm, but a part of her wanted what he wanted. He’d sent this to her here to taunt her, to make her want more in the moment. She could wait. And tonight, it would be a long bath, another re-read of how he wanted to cradle her against him and slide, slowly, inside of her. How he wanted to meet her eyes and link their fingers and
… feel you wrap your legs around my hips. I’ve been dreaming about your legs since the first time I saw you in one of your skirts at the office. For such a professional woman, you can make me completely lose my mind with just a glance.
She fanned herself with the letter. When was he coming back to DC again?
I’ll be back as soon as I can. I wish I could call, could warn you, but you know how this is. You know how it’s going to go. And we both know I can’t make promises that war zones won’t let me keep. But I don’t have anything lined up after Peru.
I’ll see you soon. Hopefully, I’ll see more of you soon. A lot more.
I miss you, Murphy.
-Peter
p.s. I don’t expect a response to this. I know how impossible it is to get mail in to the locations where I’m going. We’ll find a way, eventually. But I hope when you get this, you’re … inspired.
Inspired indeed. She needed ten minutes alone in the bathroom. Jeeze.
He was in Peru now, she knew. A month of segments she’d watched by herself, trying not to get lost in how he conducted his interviews, how those interviewing him kept getting tripped up by the local disasters. All of his arrogance aside, he was a brilliant reporter and handled it all in stride. Never once did she feel worry for his safety, which was exactly what an international reporter was supposed to be able to manage. Still, when a day went by without a report, her heart skipped a beat. Journalists were hardly safe.
It shouldn’t be too hard to get the address of the hotel. But by the time the letter got there, he’d be on a plane to nowhere and her wishes for exactly how he’d work her body would be left to some hotel jockey and she definitely didn’t want that.
She also needed to get back to work. But before she moved on to the stack of transcripts she needed to cull through - good old fashioned research would do the trick to calm her down - she slid the letter into her purse after pressing it to her lips one more time.
Wherever he was, he couldn’t come back soon enough.
***
Standing in the children’s section of Bridge Street Books, Murphy watched Avery pull titles off the shelves and calculated which ones they already had and which ones she was willing to spoil him with. Really, it was all of them. He couldn’t have too many and since he was eternally sticky anyway, backups were good. It was the one thing she didn’t understand about her son - how he could be fresh out of a bath and still be sticky.
The children’s section was next to the current events section and while Avery turned pages in books she was already planning on buying, Murphy’s eyes scanned the book covers. Biographies crammed the shelves, but a few newer, hotter items were on display and her eyes fell on a collection of interviews given by foreign correspondents. She remembered the network handing over a couple of transcripts of hers to the publisher, she just didn’t realize it was out already. Peter was one of the people on the cover, standing there on a tank, in his flack jacket with the subtle but prominently placed bullet hole, and her fingers reached out to touch. She picked up the book, staring at the image of her … what was Peter anyway? Well, that was still to be defined.
But she missed him. She missed the smirk on his face, the way he invaded her personal space. She didn’t need to buy this. Hell, she was sure somewhere in her piles of unopened mail, there was her copy from the publisher. But he was right here and the visions of that letter still danced in her head.
She felt a tug on her jeans and looked down. Avery was grinning up at her, a book in one hand, a trail of others behind him. She chuckled and knelt down, touching his nose. How would he react to her having someone in her life? And she hadn’t even talked with Peter about Avery. The couple of times Peter had interacted with her son, it had gone well. He seemed to like him. But it was one thing to like your co-worker’s kid, it was another to date a single mother. She helped Avery gather his books and let him carry one to the counter. She was still holding the book with Peter on the cover and as she set the stack down, she realized how much of an idiot she seemed. Quickly, she slipped the book onto the discard pile by the register.
But as she reached for her credit card, her eye fell on a box of leather bound journals still behind the counter.
“Are those for sale?” She asked.
Once, she’d carried notebooks like those - soft leather covers tied together with a simple string. Over time, her reporter’s notebook had evolved into a more practical Moleskine, but she still had a soft spot for the sewn spines and soft covers. An idea was percolating.
“We just hadn’t put them out yet. Are you interested?”
“I’ll take two,” Murphy said. “Just the two on the top is fine.”
The cashier nodded and slipped the notebooks into the bag before adding them to the order. Avery wanted to carry his book still, so Murphy handed it over and he toddled after her until they hit the street, where she scooped him up in one arm before he could make friends with the cars. He wiggled, but settled, which was helpful considering Murphy was only half-paying attention to him. The other part of her brain was in Peru.
***
Avery was playing on his mat in the library, building towers out of his blocks. Aretha Franklin sang in the background, and Murphy settled at the desk, keeping an eye on her son while retrieving Peter’s letter out of her purse and sliding it into the back of her reporter’s notebook. She couldn’t send letters like Peter could. But she could write them. And when he was back, she’d hand them over. If she found the nerve.
Shaking hands opened the notebook. She uncapped the pen she’d bought just for this and started to write.
Peter,
I got your letter. Jackass. You had to send it to me at work. You’ll be happy to know that I fanned my way through a story meeting and an editing session and by the time I got home, I was a hot mess.
Convincing your nanny to stick around an extra half hour so you can shower in privacy to work out the … energy … is not always that easy.
I’m like a schoolgirl. Blushing and tingling and not quite sure how to define these emotions. You make me feel beautiful again. I haven’t felt that way since before Avery was born. Really, since the day he was conceived.
Speaking of … I have a story to tell you about that desk.
Avery’s blocks crashed to the floor, startling her from the letter and startling him to tears. Murphy closed the notebook. Sweet nothings for her … whatever he was … would have to wait.
“Hey, sweetheart,” she said as she joined him. “Let’s rebuild it together, okay?”
Her focus shifted, right back to her son. Peter and the letters could wait. After all, once he got a hint of what it meant to date someone with an almost two-year-old, he’d probably run screaming. Everyone else had. But it was okay, because she and Avery had each other and as much as she liked Peter, she didn’t need him. All she needed was this little boy and a good story to chase. Everything else was just extra.
But, judging by the way Peter kissed her, he would be a very special extra.
***
Every single cell in her body froze. There he stood in the middle of the newsroom, and she did her best to maintain their banter. After all, he hadn’t called. He’d only sent the one letter. He’d probably only come by to use the phone. Dear god, he looked good. He’d cut his hair a bit, shaved. And he was still in that denim jacket that really, she found incredibly sexy. It took every ounce of control to just snap at him and walk away, reminding him there was a phone two blocks down the street, and hope to god he’d follow her into her office. Please follow her.
He did, clearly frustrated, and the second she closed her office door, she had her arms around him and her lips against his. It had been way too long. He responded, pulling her tight against his body and she wanted to go right now. Please, her mind begged, don’t let go.
“Did you get my letter?” He asked. She sighed and pressed herself even closer. Of course she got his letter. The shell casing was now in her bedside table. But she had to be in editing in two minutes and thanks to Avery being sick part of the week, she was behind on this story, so it wasn’t a meeting she could reschedule. Her producer wouldn’t care about her libido.
“I can do two minutes,” he teased. Oh, it wouldn’t take her more than thirty seconds at this rate, but that smartass line deserved some smartass in return.
“You know,” she said, laughing has his hand found hers again. It always did. “Most women wouldn’t consider that a selling point.”
He had the grace to blush. He also had the grace to pull her close while she teased him, while she explained that some women like to be wooed. And the kiss he gave her before bursting out of her office, making it sound like they’d been fighting, left her weak in the knees. Screw wooing. She’d be okay with two minutes. But he went along with her, promised to be there at eight, and she giggled as Corky yet again threw herself at him while not throwing herself at him. Of all of them, she’d been right, she’d figured out Murphy had a thing for Peter. But somehow, Murphy had managed to convince her - and herself - that she was wrong. Well, now who was the idiot. But she and Peter exchanged a glance as he got on the elevator and she just let herself sit there in the lingering feel of his arms around her and the way his body pressed against hers and god, how he always just reached for her hand.
Crap.
She was due in editing.
***
One look at his chest and she panicked. She thought she’d pushed through the insecurities once she got home. She’d showered, done her hair, fixed her makeup, donned something comfortable but not overtly seductive. She didn’t want to be trying too hard, she didn’t want him to be put off either. She’d shaved and oiled her legs and rubbed lotion absolutely everywhere on her body that she could reach.
Hopefully he wouldn’t notice the stretch marks. Or how her breasts really no longer had anything perky left to them. God, she was 46 years old. What the hell was she thinking? But he wanted her and the last time in her office, he’d been pretty sure of what he wanted. So she’d shoved the insecurities into their usual box in her mind, buttoned up an extra button on the vest, and went to find the Smokey Robinson and ask Eldin stupid questions about condoms.
But now she’d ripped his shirt open and he was poised above her and she could feel him so close and God. He looked so good. So she did the only thing she could think of - she panicked and fled to the bathroom.
Now, Murphy stared at herself in the mirror, horrified at the image that stared back. He looked like he could walk a runway and she … what was she thinking? Of course he’d been turned on in her office. He couldn’t see the mess of her body. They should have had sex then. They could have just gone their separate ways. Or at least had this anticipation out of the way. Now he had time to think, to judge her, to realize that women like Corky were really his speed.
God, a beautiful man was waiting in her bed and she couldn’t get it together enough to get out there. When had that happened? When had she gone from a woman who revealed in her ability to attract younger men to a woman scared to be touched by one? Where was Jerry when she needed him. He was at least her age. Not that he’d been around since Avery was born. What the hell did Peter see in her?
She had to get out there. At least let him see what he was getting and let her down easy. She had her vibrator. It was fine. She donned a ratted t-shirt, a baggy hoodie, and tiptoed back into the bedroom, still in full on panic.
She had to give him credit, though. Peter could see right through her, and he tried to play along. He could tell she was hiding, and she appreciated his different tactics. He tried playful, he tried dominant, he tried gentle. Still, she couldn’t get comfortable. She couldn’t get past the image in the mirror. She couldn’t forget that when she was born, Truman was president and for him, it was Eisenhower. She evaded, she squirmed, and finally she was honest.
“I’m not twenty-five anymore,” she admitted, staring at his chest. “Contents may have shifted during flight.” Didn’t he get it? Why didn’t he get it? He was seven years younger than she was. He could have any woman in the world. Most of the men too. Why the hell was he here in her bed? Why wasn’t he just leaving her to keep this part of her life shut down?
Finally, she’d pushed him to the limit. Well, at least that was what it looked like. And then she heard it, the subtle challenge.
“I was gonna be really great tonight.”
Oh the bastard.
She jumped out of bed, the laughter starting to bubble over, her confidence returning. What did it say about her that she could only get comfortable in the bedroom with a challenge underway? But suddenly, they both stopped and just looked at each other and she knew he would leave if she really felt uncomfortable and that made everything fall into place a bit better.
If she’d trust him, if she’d trust herself, they could have a ton of fun tonight. They stared at each other, the breath tight between them. This was the moment of truth. She could hide back under the comforter and never know what they could have together. He’d leave, and they could move on with their lives. He’d go back to the women she wasn’t like. She’d go back to life with her kid and work. The complete life she bragged about. Maybe Jake would come back. Maybe Jerry would find her beautiful again. After all, whenever either of them needed an itch scratched, they came to her and that was something to be proud of, right?
Murphy didn’t want to go back to life before Peter. Not yet. She liked that he was as intrigued by her as she was by him. She liked how he touched her, how he kissed her, how he looked at her like she really was the only woman in the world. They’d talk about his kiss with Corky later. Right now, she took her insecurities and threw them aside while wrapping her arms around his neck and pushing him back on the bed. To hell with Truman. And Eisenhower too.
He ripped her t-shirt off her body, she tugged at the pants he’d put back on. In moments they were naked and he stopped only to reach for his wallet and the condom inside. He was right, he could do two minutes, and right now, she didn’t care. She wanted his body deep inside of her own.
After the initial rush, while they caught their breath, he proved himself worthy.
He kissed his way up her legs, parting her thighs and burying his face between them for a long moment before continuing his journey. He paused, kissing the space where her leg and hip came together. Her body caught fire and she gasped at the touch of his tongue to her skin.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he made his way up her body. The softness of her stomach became beautiful as his hands moved across her, his mouth devoured her breasts, and when he finally settled back up between her thighs again, she was panting and he was hard.
She sat up, rolling the condom onto him, and rolling them so she took control, sliding down onto him. His hands steadied her hips and she moved, slowly, drawing out each motion. God help her if Avery suddenly needed anything, because he’d have to wait.
Peter was touching her, his long fingers working between her legs as she rode him. He brought her to the edge more than once, leaving her gasping, before flipping them and taking her, her hands pinned above her head while they both cursed each other’s names.
It was absolutely amazing.
Murphy reveled in exploring his body, in letting her tongue follow her fingers across the plane of his chest. She kissed her way down his stomach, pausing before sliding her lips onto his cock, enjoying the curse that emerged as she did so. He reached not for her head but for her hand while she blew him, linking their fingers, and pulling her away before he came. It was the first time she’d ever enjoyed giving head. He repaid the favor, laying her flat and wrapping her legs over his shoulders while he brought her to the brink with his tongue against her clit.
She pushed him back, settling into his lap, almost forgetting the little foil package on the nightstand, but she reached for it and rolled it onto him, taking her time. His eyes never left hers.
It was the most erotic night of her life.
Sated - she slipped to the bathroom before crawling back into bed. Peter had pulled the sheet to the side, giving them a slightly drier place to sleep. She took his hand and curled up against his naked body.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“For what?” His hand was stroking through her hair and if it weren’t four in the morning, she’d want to go for one more round.
“Not letting me hide,” she said. “I’d have thrown you out rather than … get over myself.”
“You have nothing to get over, Murphy. But I’m glad you realized you could trust me. You’re beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”
She gave in to the need for one last kiss before sleep claimed them both.
***
Once the embarrassment of her coworkers seeing Peter emerge in only a towel faded, Murphy couldn’t help but revel in the fact that she’d showed up Corky. The beauty queen had matured over the years, but she still seemed to think that life ended at 40 and as the hot water of the shower massaged her exhausted muscles, Murphy groaned into a stretch she hadn’t needed in a long time. Oh, last night had been amazing.
It had been since Jerry she felt so worshipped, and even with Jerry, she hadn’t felt as cherished. They’d played and laughed and touched and stroked. Yes, Peter had been worth waiting for. Her only heartbreak was that chances were, he’d been scared off by their morning humiliation. He was probably on a plane already. She’d wasted good money on a notebook she could fill with letters he’d really never see. Maybe she’d give them to Miles. He wanted Peter around so much, he could read all of the steamy nothings.
Okay, so maybe she was a little pissed they hadn’t all just left when she told them to. Right now, she could be still wrapped in Peter’s arms and calling out of work. Really, Miles, she just couldn’t get out of bed today. Instead, she had to face her humiliation and find her way past the looks she’d be getting for a week.
Eldin had Avery down in the library when she came downstairs. They shared a knowing look, and she was glad he didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure when he’d shown up, but she was glad for his discretion this morning.
“Bye, sweetie,” she said, placing a kiss on his head. “Mommy will see you later.”
“I’ll uh, take him to his gymboree class today if you like,” Eldin offered. Friday afternoons she usually did it, leaving after lunch and returning to the office for a late night. In that moment, she realized how brutally disappointed she was over Peter leaving this morning before they had a chance to talk.
“Yeah,” she said. “That might be a good idea. Thanks, Eldin.” She just wasn’t sure she could face all of those other parents today.
He just nodded. Murphy gathered her bag and headed in to work. She could get through this. There weren’t any meetings, she didn’t have an editing bay scheduled. She could do research and try to put her feelings in order. She did grab the notebook she’d bought for letters to Peter and put it in her bag.
She stepped off the elevator to a smattering of applause, which only made everything worse. Frank was pouting. The rest of the team was nowhere to be found. On silent steps, she approached her office, wondering if maybe she should just go home and work there. By Monday, everyone would forget about this. Right?
But her heart caught in her throat. Peter was there, cleaned up a little bit, putting down the picture of her and Avery from the hospital. He was here. He wanted to talk. The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity before he ducked his head in that way that wasn’t supposed to be so damn sexy.
“We’ve got a problem,” he admitted. Her heart sank. This was it. He’d had his fun with the older woman and now he was done and she filed last night away in her “remember this when you’re lonely” part of her brain. And then he surprised her. “Last night was incredible.” They both let out a chuckle. “How is this supposed to blow up in our faces when …”
“I know …”
They just stared at each other and the reality hit her, full on. She wanted him. Whenever she could get him, however they could be together. She didn’t just want him in her bed, she wanted him. She knew her life would now include hoping she caught the phone, not feeling guilty when she didn’t, and scanning the mail for letters. She had to accept that every time he did a report near a bullet, she’d be praying he’d remember to duck. She knew she wouldn’t have any problem splitting up the Sunday paper - although a vacation away might be taxing. And she might even be willing to share her popcorn at the movies if he kept kissing her like that.
He was here for three days. Well. Two more. She had him today, tomorrow, and part of Sunday before he headed back to Eastern Europe. “Let’s go face the group,” she said after they broke apart. “As much as I’d love to lock you in here with me, I think I’d rather go get breakfast and then head back to my place.”
“Sounds good to me.” His hand was in hers again. Oh, this was bad. It was really bad. She led him out of the office and faced the gang who had suddenly all gathered. She looked right at Corky while she explained exactly what was going on which was … that they were still figuring it out. But they were going to figure it out away from the office because Peter was leaving again. Yes, she was taking a personal day. Yes, they all knew what that meant. Right now, she just didn’t care. Right now, she wanted to be wrapped in Peter’s arms and her friends could shove off.
In the elevator, she leaned against him. “Your car or mine?”
“Why don’t I go grab breakfast and coffee,” Peter suggested. “We’ll meet back at your place. I should … probably grab a change of clothes.”
She chuckled. “Fair enough.” It occurred to her she had no idea if he even kept an apartment in DC anymore. But right now, she just wanted him back in her bed. Questions like that could be answered later. “Eldin’s already promised a wide berth today. I’ll make sure it stays that way.”
Peter laughed. At her car in the garage, he kissed her again. And again. And again. Until she wasn’t sure if she could drive home safely. Finally he backed away and she slipped behind the wheel and broke more laws than usual racing home.
This time, she would be ready for him.
***
By the time Peter showed up, Eldin had taken Avery off to gymboree, with the promise of an after class walk through the park and dinner elsewhere. Tomorrow she’d face reality and play single mom with a … boyfriend? That was a strange word for her mind to process. Today she just wanted Peter in bed with her.
She ordered Chinese takeout and shoved it in the fridge - just in case they needed to eat later. She pulled her hair out of its braid, slipped into a pair of silk pj bottoms and a tank top she knew left very little to the imagination. Wooing was done.
Thankfully, Peter was exactly on her wavelength. Yes, he showed up with a bag of donuts and two cups of coffee, but they were left on the table in the foyer while she dragged him back to the couch.
“We’re okay?” He groaned, pulling her shirt up.
“For the rest of the afternoon,” she chuckled. It was the last thing they said to each other for half an hour, until he realized he didn’t have any more condoms in his wallet.
“I might have over bought the other day …” she said, racing up the stairs to retrieve the bag she’d tossed aside. He followed her and they made their way back into the bedroom. “I was … a bit … nervous.” She grabbed a box from the bag and walked to him where he’d taken a seat on the edge of the bed, enjoying how his eyes roved over her, how his body reacted.
“I appreciate the confidence,” Peter said, taking her hand as she came back to him. “And I also appreciate being able to see you like this.” He pressed a kiss to her stomach, his hands moving around her hips back to her ass, stroking slowly. Murphy tangled her fingers in his hair and let him love her imperfections, the stretch marks and the soft spaces. “You are stunning,” he said, looking up at her. “I wish you could see you like I see you.”
“I’ll take what you’re giving me,” she murmured. He pulled her onto his lap and rolled them so he was nestled between her legs, his erection pushing against her. They stopped just long enough to open the package they’d taken the time to retrieve. He came back to her, sliding into her body, and Murphy lost herself completely to the moment.
***
Saturday dawned far too early. Murphy woke to the sound of Avery pushing on the bedroom door and she lept to consciousness, pulling Peter’s shirt around her. Thankfully, Peter was buried in the blankets.
“Why don’t you go back in your room and play for a few minutes. Mommy will finish getting dressed and we can have breakfast, okay?”
Avery pouted but did as asked. Murphy ducked into the shower to rinse off. Peter slept on, though she noticed he’d taken her pillow and pulled it against him in his sleep. The gesture made her heart swell. How was she going to handle him leaving again?
An hour later, Peter came down the stairs, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Murphy glanced up from where she and Avery were playing with his puzzle board. “There’s coffee in the kitchen. And pop tarts.”
“Pop tarts sound perfect.” He said, dropping a kiss to her hair as he walked past. Avery’s eyes widened to see the stranger in the house and he climbed down off the couch and followed Peter into the kitchen. Nervous, Murphy followed.
“Avery, I don’t know if you remember, but this is my friend Peter. He’s staying with us for a couple of days.”
“Hi!” Avery chirped.
Murphy held her breath. Peter only made his case even stronger as he knelt down in front of her son. “Hey, Avery. So is it cool if I hang with you and your mom for a while?”
Avery nodded, a huge grin on his face. “We’re playin puzzle.”
“Well, I’ll have to join you.” Peter stood back up and poured his coffee. Murphy stepped close and raised her lips for a kiss. It felt so disgustingly domestic, and yet perfect. She really could get used to this.
Puzzle time turned into Peter and Avery chasing each other around the backyard. Murphy sat back and watched the two of them bond - at least until she was roped into the game of tag. When it was time for Avery’s nap, they tiptoed to the bedroom, also taking advantage of downtime.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” Murphy said, sliding between the sheets. “You’ve known my kid for five minutes and you’ve already charmed him.”
“I’ve technically known him for about six months,” Peter teased, his hand sliding up inside her shirt. “But it’s impossible not to love him. He’s great.”
“Thank you. And yes, he is.” She sighed into the kiss. “And can we stop talking now?”
The afternoon gave way to a walk through the neighborhood, playing at the park, and a dinner picnic in the living room. Somewhere between the apple slices and cheese cubes, Avery climbed into Peter’s lap and asked for a story. Peter instantly obliged, but asking Avery to help him and within moments, they were making up new parts of Jack and the Beanstalk. Avery dozed off in Peter’s arms and Murphy reached for him to put him to bed, but Peter just waved her off. “I’ve got him,” he offered. Carefully, he stood up and Murphy followed as he carried the sleeping toddler to the nursery.
“PJs are in the drawer,” she said softly. Peter changed Avery and settled him in the crib he’d almost grown out of. “Almost time for that big boy bed,” she murmured, rubbing her hand along his back. “To me, he’s still small enough for the cradle by my bed and he’s … well,” she looked up at Peter. “Now he’s old enough to be bonding with my boyfriend.”
“Today was just about perfect,” Peter said, coming up behind her. She leaned back in, the weight of the reality that he would be leaving tomorrow a sudden presence in the room. “I don’t want to go.”
“Is it wrong of me to say not to?” She tilted her head to him. “I mean …”
“Shhhh,” Peter said, leaning in to kiss her. She took his hand and led him back to the bedroom.
The playful tone from earlier faded, giving way to tender touches and slow undressing, but before Peter she was completely naked, Murphy pulled away and went to rescue the journal she’d bought. Returning to the bedroom, she handed it to him.
“I can’t always send letters to you, I know that,” she said, taking a seat on the bed. “I’ll find out where you are and by the time a letter gets through the mess of the mail, you’ll have moved on. So, I’m going to write them here and whenever you are back in town, I’ll give the notebook to you to keep with you. Because I’m going to miss you and I didn’t realize until today just how much.”
“Murphy …” he shook his head and set the journal aside. “This … this is something real, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” she reached out to touch his cheek. “I’m scared that it really is.”
His only response was to kiss her. Murphy lost herself in his touch, feeling the change in his caress. They'd reached that stage, the one beyond just having sex. They made love to each other, slowly, relishing every moment. They still had tonight.
***
Murphy leaned against him, waiting for his flight to board. Avery was at the window, entranced by the planes.
“This isn’t good, Peter.”
“Maybe it’s time we stopped saying that …” he chuckled and held her tighter. She rested her head on his shoulder, one eye on the kid. “Maybe it’s okay that it is good.”
“Yeah,” she murmured, leaning up for a kiss he gladly gave. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’m going to miss you too.” His voice was that low, gentle tone he’d adopted since that first night back at the townhouse. When they tired to shoehorn logic into matters of their hearts. He dropped a kiss to her lips again and she clung to him. Three days just wasn’t enough. This was going to be what broke her. Not the geography, but the leaving.
“Delta flight 1165 with service to London-Heathrow. Now boarding all rows.”
“They’re playing my song,” Peter murmured as he pulled back. He untangled himself and walked over to the window, where Avery was still making “plane noises.” Murphy watched him kneel down and pat Avery on the back and dammit, where were these emotions coming from. She wiped a rebellious tear from the corner of her eye. “Hey, buddy,” Peter whispered. Avery looked at him. “I had a lot of fun with you and your mom this weekend. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
Avery’s eyes got wide. He knew airports meant leaving and he took the hug Peter offered. Walking back, Peter handed Avery over and Murphy cradled him close. “You take care of your mom, okay?” Peter said, trying to smile. He looked at Murphy. “I’ll be home soon.”
The word home wrapped around her like a blanket. “Okay,” she whispered.
She and Avery stayed, waving goodbye, until Peter was on the gangway. Finally, she let Avery down and took his hand, walking back toward the car. This was how it was going to be. She’d just have to figure it out. One day at a time.
***
Peter,
Well, Avery realized when we got to the car that you weren’t coming back with us, and he wailed the whole way home. So you’ve definitely made an impression. On both of us.
This weekend was wonderful. I’ve rarely felt so treasured - and I don’t just mean when we were in bed together. You say you’re lousy at relationships, and that may be true, but really, you’re pretty good when it comes to me.
I like that it’s easy with us - when we let it be. I like that every step isn’t fighting an impulse or well, just fighting. And I love the sex. You have every right to brag, you know. You leaving was the hardest part of the weekend. Well, other than everyone finding out how they did. I wanted our morning together. I’m so glad you were there in my office.
The only thing I don’t love is you being gone. The bed still smells like you. Like us. It’s going to be a while before I’m comfortable sleeping alone again.
This is the part where we blow up, you realize. Because the weekend was wonderful. And now you aren’t here. And I’m already resentful of the universe. Come home safely.
I hope I’ll talk to you soon. I miss you.
-Murphy