Fic: Of Red Vines and Chicken McNuggets
Title: Of Red Vines and Chicken McNuggets
Author: vegawriters
Fandom: Murphy Brown
Series: Come Rain, Come Shine
Pairing: Murphy Brown/Peter Hunt
Rating: Adult things happen here. And are talked about here.
Timeframe: Post Rumble in the Alley, but before FYI of the Hurricane
A/N: Okay, get ready for a quick rant - In Rumble in the Alley, Linda and Frank give Murphy and Peter a hard time about ‘not knowing each other’ (which was CRAP). Which, you know, is really mature coming from a guy’s ex-fiance and Frank Fontana who can’t keep a relationship going for more than 5 seconds. This is one of a few responses I have planned for that.
Disclaimer: I’m still not over it. Which is why I write fanfic. Diane and WB own all of the Murphy stuff and has the power to fix it. I can’t remember who owns the rights to The American President, but I’m still not making money off of this. I’m just writing this for fun.
Summary: “I’m really glad for all the women who have dumped you over the years.”
For once, date night was a movie. Lately, schedules had taken them only to late dinners and back to her place to chase Avery into bed before they collapsed themselves. While Murphy didn’t mind conversation in dim restaurants where she could stare into Peter’s eyes while he tried to argue a point, there was something wonderful about being able to sit in a dark theater with the man she loved and not have the story be anything by Disney or about cartoon cats or dragons or whatnot. No, tonight was her, Peter, Annette Benning, and Michael Douglas. Coffee before the show at a spot they’d discovered completely by accident while racing away from rain one night, the movie, and then a late dinner at their favorite all night diner. She wanted cheese fries. Then, if the carbs hadn’t killed her, she fully intended on ravaging her lover until her body couldn’t handle it anymore. Tonight, they were even child free. Reena had offered to watch Avery, which meant their post-show escapades would be at his apartment.
Murphy leaned against Peter as they waited in line. It was chilly. Not chilly enough that she regretted leaving her jacket at in the car, but cool enough that her blouse didn’t quite do the job. He was always so warm and so far, he didn’t seem to mind putting his arms around her to shield the wind. A few people recognized them, one ten year old girl came up for her autograph, saying she wanted to be just like her someday. A teenage boy walked by Peter, his eyes bugging out, and Murphy just chuckled.
“What?”
“Did I just get a glimpse of teenage Petey?”
He silenced her by kissing her. She always forgot everything once his lips touched hers.
Tonight was a dutch night - he got the movie, she got the popcorn. Standing at the counter, she looked at the tubs, knowing full well that they could share it, but she’d never been good at sharing. Murphy plopped down far too much money for two sodas, a box of red vines, and a large popcorn. She was going to regret all of this in the morning.
“Where’s my popcorn?” Peter taunted as she handed him his soda. “Or, are we … sharing?”
“Who said you get any of this?” Murphy shot back. He rolled his eyes but, smartly, didn’t go for his own tub. She followed him through the doors to the theater and grinned as he slid into the back row and lifted the arm rest between two seats. Good. He too had plans for being in a dark theater, it seemed. Peter took the popcorn as she slid her purse under the seat and settled down, soda on one side, red vines in her lap. Once the popcorn was safely back in her hands, Peter also settled and instead of taking back the popcorn, he slipped his hand into her lap and grabbed the candy.
Oh, so that was the mood he was in, hmm? Two could play at this.
But first, he slipped an arm around her and Murphy let herself relax against his body. The only downside to not being home was the lack of a blanket pulled up over them. Movie nights at home - provided Avery was well down for the count - usually involved something they’d seen a million times so that they wouldn’t miss anything while she slid into his lap, grinding against his erection while his hands worked her and his mouth made love to her breasts. Here, at least, they had to maintain some kind of decorum. But she’d worn jeans and he knew full well how to press against the seam and make her eyes roll back in her head.
The theater filled - other middle aged parents out away from the kids for a night. Like her and Peter, here for Michael Douglas. And well, Annette Bening. He’d admitted a crush on both of them and well, Murphy was more than happy to oblige a well written political script and her own fantasies of Michael Douglas’ full lips. Peter reached for the popcorn and she smacked his hand.
“What?”
“You know the rule. If we share, you don’t get any until the actual movie starts.”
“I’m hungry now.”
“Eat candy.”
She could feel him glare at her, but instead of opening the red vines package, he leaned in and nibbled at her neck and he almost got away with reaching for the popcorn, but it wasn’t the perfect angle that made her forget her own name. So she swatted his hand and almost lost the popcorn for her trouble.
“That’s enough,” she chastised him. “You wait.”
“For?”
A smirk pressed her lips together. “Both.” But she reached down and squeezed his thigh. His groan warned her they might not make it through the movie. Were there single stall bathrooms here? No. That was disgusting.
A couple settled down in front of them and to either side and Murphy again willed her libido under control. This wasn’t a deserted theater she could just make out with Peter in. There were people who they could scandalize.
Okay, so that was tempting.
The lights dimmed to bring up the latest preview reel and Murphy guarded the popcorn with her life. Not until the movie itself started. Everytime Peter’s fingers wandered toward the tub, she redirected and finally he gave in, his fingers stroking slowly along her arm. She could feel them walking closer and closer to her breast and wished she’d nixed the bra tonight.
But there were people in the theater.
Damnit.
Finally a series of majestic opening credits rolled and Murphy slipped the popcorn between them, grabbing the first handful. She’d bought it, damnit.
Her secret was she didn’t mind sharing the popcorn with Peter. She liked how their fingers brushed, how he fought with her for bigger handfuls. She liked how his natural musk mixed with the scent of salt and butter and she just wanted to kiss the lingering grease from his lips. Whatever demon had taken possession of her soul to make her this damn sappy and romantic needed to be exorcised now. What was next? A harpist at the wedding?
She focused on the movie.
It was actually fantastic. Capraesque in only the best way, she wanted Annette Bening to win and she cheered for the President’s daughter. Peter’s hand got closer and closer to her in the popcorn and she batted him away. If they were sharing, he shared her way. Which meant she got most of the popcorn. She let him have the red vines save for the few she snagged to act as straws for her soda.
But right around the time that Annette Benning told Michael Douglas about living with disappointment, Peter took the mostly-empty popcorn tub from her. Murphy grabbed for a few kernels and popped them in her mouth, but it didn’t take more than a few seconds to realize what Peter was up to. His lips met hers and she groaned into the kiss, not caring at all who was around and listening. Around them, at least three people shushed them and Murphy tangled her fingers in Peter’s hair, drawing him even closer for a kiss. Oh, later was going to be fun.
They broke apart and settled back down to watch the rest of the movie. His arm tight around her shoulder, her hand high on his thigh. Part of her wanted to skip out on the end, but she needed to make sure the Republicans didn’t win. When President Andrew Shepherd started waxing philosophical about the women he’d loved, Murphy dared a glance at Peter. He wasn’t watching the screen but watching her instead. This time, when he kissed her, it wasn’t passionate and driving, but full of emotion she was still wrestling with.
She loved him too.
The lights came up and Peter let out a breath and stood up, brushing popcorn off his shirt. Murphy grinned. “Need a vacuum there, Petey?”
“Shut up.” He took her hand and pulled her up to him and Murphy lost herself in the kiss. “You sure you’re hungry?” He asked as they broke away.
“Takeout?” She responded. “I mean, cheese fries can wait.”
“It was you?!”
The familiar voice caught her attention and Murphy whipped her head around to see Frank standing there, one row up, his jacket half on.
“You two were the annoying face-sucking couple?!”
Murphy wanted to laugh at her best friend’s horror, but instead she was focused on the blonde next to him. She’d hoped it had just been one night. Instead, there stood Linda, fresh faced and younger than all of them, looking far too comfortable next to Frank Fontana. It had been two months since the bowling alley. What were they still doing dating?
Her heart sank.
Was she going to have to deal with Linda forever?
Worse, the look on Linda’s face set off not just every possessive and jealous bone in her body, but it set off her reporter’s instinct too. Linda was judging them. Just like she’d been judging them two months ago.
She wasn’t immune though to how Peter slipped an arm around her. “Did you two enjoy the movie?”
“It was good,” Linda came back. Murphy knew she had nothing to feel strange about. But here was this beautiful woman on Frank’s arm and she should have cheered for him but she just wanted the bitch gone.
Worse, Linda wasn’t a bitch. She was lovely and sweet and exactly the kind of perfect woman that Peter used to leave.
“Well,” Frank said, “other than that couple --”
“Shut up, Frank,” Murphy cut him off.
“We’re heading to dinner,” Linda piped up. “Would you two care to join us?”
Sitting down with Linda was exactly the last thing she wanted to do. Luckily, Peter seemed to read her mind. “Rain check. No offense,” Peter said with a smile, “but we’ve actually got a child-free night and Murphy and I are looking to take advantage of it.”
“I see,” Frank snarked, his sarcastic tone making every muscle in Murphy’s back clench. “I mean, it’s such a responsibility. Taking on --”
“Shut up, Frank,” Murphy retorted. “I don’t see you offering to babysit.” She slipped her arm around Peter’s waist. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
She wanted to look back as they walked away, but she held her ground. She loved Frank like a brother, but his inability to understand Peter’s presence in her life had long since grown old. “You up for cheese fries?” She asked as they got to Peter’s Range Rover.
“Definitely,” he said. He kissed her softly before opening the door for her and she let the exchange with Frank fade away. That he was still dating Linda lingered longer than she wanted it to and she could tell it was sitting strangely with Peter too.
“Peter?”
He looked at her when he came to a stop at a light. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Murphy feigned innocence and then pushed right past the boundary he’d set in place. “I didn’t know they were still seeing each other.”
“Look. I know the guy is harmless. I wouldn’t have called Linda that night if I didn’t think otherwise. But …” He ran a hand through his hair and refocused on traffic as the light changed.
“But what?”
Peter shook his head and Murphy squared up, ready for the argument that was coming. They didn’t argue often, their time was too precious for it, but sometimes challenges about stories, the occasional frustration over schedules, and of course, Frank, rose to the surface. But Peter didn’t go where she expected him to go.
“Were you and Frank ever a thing?”
For a fleeting instant she was shocked and insulted he’d asked the question. Then, logic settled onto her shoulders and it made sense. It was, after all, a question he’d never asked.
“Truth? He tried to pick me up when we first met. But his automatic assumption that because I’d talked to him first meant I wanted to sleep with him annoyed me. I mean, he was kind of cute but not my type. We’re friends. That’s all we’ve ever been.”
“He acts more like a jealous ex-lover than a best friend.”
“He isn’t.” Murphy sighed and looked out the window. “Honestly, I think …” She trailed off, trying to find her words.
“What?”
“You didn’t know me when I was drinking, Peter.” The range rover was suddenly a comfortable bubble and she didn’t want to get out. “Go through the Mcdonald’s drive through,” she said. “Let’s do that instead.” He didn’t argue. At the window, he ordered identical meals for them - Big Macs and large fries. Diet soda for her. And a McNuggets happy meal that she knew they’d split and whoever got the last fry would keep the toy. What Avery didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
She waited until he was back on the road again, just driving. She let him choose where.
“Like all alcoholics, I handled it all really well at first. But eventually, I just … stopped being good at the things I was good at. And I’m not saying that I was ever good at choosing men but as I got worse, so did my taste. Frank was there for a lot of it. He had to witness the aftermath. So, if he acts like a jealous lover,” she rolled her eyes. “It’s because after a while, all it ever was, was him and me. It made sense. He isn’t used to … well … this.” She popped a nugget into her mouth and chewed.
“I like Frank,” Peter admitted. “I mean, I don’t understand why he’s so threatened by the world, but I like him.”
“There’s an entire industry built around understanding men like Frank,” Murphy said, chuckling. “It’s frustrating. But under all of it, he is a good guy.”
“I know.”
Silence. Peter grabbed a few fries. Murphy tried to formulate her question. “If you’re worried he will hurt Linda, I’d be more worried about her hurting him.”
“I’m not. Not really. She can handle herself. She dumped me, remember.”
“Do you regret it?”
“The relationship or her dumping me?”
“Both.” She wasn’t sure she wanted the answer. “When we got together, you said you had a habit of leaving the right women.”
“No. To both.” He pulled into the lot near the Mall and turned the car off. Beyond them, the monuments glowed in the lights. “Linda was the right person at the right time for a guy in his mid-twenties who needed some stability. Her breaking off our engagement was also the right thing for me. I didn’t want what she wanted to give me.”
“Which was what?”
“Honestly,” he looked at her and in the dim light, his eyes were warm and tender. “She was boring as hell. She was stable. She did the right things. Had the right plans. It’s something a guy who lives overseas most of the time should want and I was bored out of my mind.” He chuckled. “Even the sex was pretty basic.”
Murphy grabbed another nugget. “Now you’re just stroking my ego.”
“Maybe,” he took one of the burgers and bit into it. “But it’s also true. She’d actually be perfect for Frank. Something tells me he needs good old fashioned stability in his life.”
“It’s just weird though,” Murphy said, her eyes not focused on anything. She took some fries. “Maybe because he didn’t tell me and I usually know everything about the women he’s seeing within three dates.”
“He wants you to scare them away.”
“Yeah, he does.” She sighed. “Confession.”
“Okay?”
“He and I talked about having a baby together a while back.”
Peter choked on his food. Murphy glanced at him. “You okay there, Pete Moss?”
“You did what?”
“This was, obviously, before Avery. I got it in my head that it was time for me to have a baby and I didn’t want to just go through a book of nameless people so I asked Frank.”
“And he went for it?”
“He did. Harder than I did, actually. My tunnel vision faded after a couple of days, but he was gung ho.”
“What changed your mind?”
Murphy sucked up all her courage and looked at Peter. “I was still holding out hope that maybe, someday, I could have a child with a man I loved. A man I wanted to spend my life with. When Jake and I got pregnant, I figured at least I was having a child with someone I do love.”
“So you don’t want to get back together with him?”
“I’m always going to love Jake,” she said. “And every time I look at Avery, I see Jake looking back at me. But we’re disasters for each other and it only took my getting pregnant and him running off for me to realize that.” And in the moment, it made sense to tell him something no one else knew. “When we were married ... “ she expelled a slow breath. “Well. This is something I haven’t told anyone, Peter. Not even Jake knows. Okay,” she stumbled over herself, “my girlfriend in college who helped me through it but --”
“You had an abortion?”
“In 68, yeah.”
She expected him to bristle. She expected him to get out of the car and storm off. You could take the Catholic out of church but it was harder to remove the Catholic from the man. Instead, he turned in his seat and took her hands and she realized there were tears in his eyes.
“You had an abortion? In 68? God. Murphy. You could have died.”
She quirked a bit of a smile, trying to keep it light. “But I didn’t. I also didn’t end up in a situation where I was fired because I was pregnant. I just don’t talk about it. And no, I don’t regret it. Also, I had a damn good doctor. This wasn’t some back alley thing. I had good care. It hurt like hell and I bled pretty hard for a few days, but I was okay.” She’d get into other details later. This was a lot for tonight as it was.
Silence. He stroked her cheek.
“Weren’t we talking about Frank and Linda?” She gasped out after a minute, the emotion in the car so thick she could barely breathe. How had they ended up down this road again?
A beat. Another. And then Peter pulled back into his own space. “Yeah.”
“You’re okay with it, right?” She looked at him. “I mean…”
“Yes,” Peter didn’t hesitate, and she appreciated it. “You did what you had to do.”
Not for the first time in their relationship, she wondered where his mind went when he thought about kids. She knew how much he adored Avery, but did he want a child for himself? One to carry one whatever caveman DNA men worried about? She almost asked. Almost. But what if asking meant he started thinking about it? What if it changed everything?
“Can we go for a walk?” The car was suddenly confining.
Peter nodded and Murphy opened the door, escaping into the chilly air. This time, she grabbed her jacket. Peter’s hand found hers and they headed on up the Mall in silence.
***
Annoyance pricked at Peter’s skin. Not at her. And not even at Frank, although it was Frank’s presence with Peter’s ex-fiance that had killed his plans to get Murphy naked and spend the night drowning between her thighs. He didn’t handle insecurity well and tonight was a flea dip in it. At times, he actually envied Frank’s ability to walk around like the world was ending. There had to be something freeing about showing that part of yourself to the world. It was enough, really, that Murphy saw through his walls. She always had.
They walked in silence for a while. Peter appreciated these moments. As much as he loved their endless conversations about politics and culture and how animated they both got about stories they were working on, as fun as it was to spend the night wrestling in her bed, it was these quiet moments that he loved the most. He loved knowing they could exist in silence, together, and they didn’t need to fill the quiet with incoherent sound.
Still. The conversation stayed with him. Murphy’s abortion, the questions they both had about these people in their lives.
“I’m sorry,” he said, surprising himself and her.
“About what?”
“I never told you about Linda. That we’d been engaged, that we were still friends.”
“Peter, if Avery wasn’t in the picture, I might still not have told you about Jake.”
He chuckled a bit. “For two people who make their living learning things …”
“I think we’ve covered this hiccup in our relationship already,” she squeezed his hand. “And honestly, I kind of like not knowing everything. It gives me reasons to keep you around. I’ve got more to learn.” She sighed. “Though I do wish Linda and Frank weren’t our catalysts for these conversations.”
He chuckled. “Me too.”
“Lessons learned then? That maybe we need to risk these conversations on our own?”
He tugged her close and wrapped an arm around her as they walked. “You okay if Frank and Linda keep dating?”
“Peter, he’s been seeing her and I haven’t been given every single detail. The peace is wonderful.”
That made him laugh. “It won’t be awkward for you though?”
She tilted her head to him. “You think I’m insecure about some nitwit who wasn’t smart enough to hold on to the best guy she’s ever dated? I mean, I should be thanking her for walking away from you.”
He couldn’t help but wonder if the humor was a defense mechanism, but hearing her not feel insecure meant more than picking apart any internal questions she might be wrestling with. They’d come a long way and, looking at her, he knew that waiting to find the woman he wanted to spend his life with had been the best decision he’d ever made. The realization hit him hard enough that he had to catch his breath. But, it was true.
The woman he’d been waiting for was right here, in his arms. Frank and Linda could do whatever they wanted.
***
It still felt weird to have seen Frank and Linda at the movie, but whatever. She’d get over it. She had to. For once, it wasn’t any of her business who Frank was dating because he hadn’t made it her business. Well, until she came home to sixteen messages on her machine where he wondered about breaking up with Linda or some such nonsense.
But tonight, still, was about her and Peter.
She stretched out on his bed, still munching on cold chicken nuggets and driving the little car from the happy meal around the messed up sheets. Just as his hands had moved up under her shirt, a source called with some info on a story and Murphy was useless. It wasn’t the first time this had happened to them, but tonight none of the books around her was holding her attention, so she’d changed into one of Peter’s shirts and occupied her time rolling the car around the blankets like it was the backcountry. If he didn’t get off the phone soon, she’d just crash. Not the most exciting night they’d ever spent together, but the conversation after the movie had moved her more than she could express, even if she was just tired of dealing with emotions tonight.
For the first time in her life, she was truly in love with someone. She wanted more than to just rip his clothes off at the end of the day or trip over each other as they locked the door to her office. She wanted more than to steal stories from him; she wanted to listen to what he was working on and offer opinions and suggestions. She almost wanted him to do the same for her. When he did, the story was always better.
It terrified her, being in this position. She had always thought relationships needed to be fireworks and drama. Screaming matches that ended at car rental counters. Friends who hated your boyfriend and boyfriends who isolated their time. She hadn’t expected what had so quickly and effortlessly become this partnership between them. Okay. It wasn’t effortless. But they made it work.
Peter wandered by the open door, the phone pressed to his ear, and waved. Murphy chuckled and gave in. She blew him a kiss and grabbed the toy car, leaving it on his pillow, chucked the empty happy meal box into the bedroom trash, and snuggled into the covers.
Sleep took her faster than she would ever admit and she woke to feel Peter’s warm body pressing up against her from behind. A sigh escaped her and she pushed into his arms, tangling her legs with his as his hand moved up her thigh.
“You fix your story?” She mumbled.
“No,” he chuckled. “But maybe have a new angle.” His fingers were dancing along the softness of her inner thigh and Murphy ground back against him, feeling his body’s reaction. “And we got interrupted earlier.”
“You think you can just wake me up and convince me to roll over?” She teased, reaching back behind her to stroke along his bare thigh.
“Hoping, maybe.” He kissed her neck and pushed his hand up, under the barrier of her t-shirt, coming to rest on her breast. He squeezed lightly, his fingers working her nipple, and whatever pretense Murphy had for playing sleepy and hard to get faded away. She rolled to face him, sitting up enough so he could tug her shirt over her head and came back into his arms. He grinned and leaned in to kiss her again, adjusting their bodies slowly as hands trailed over bared skin.
His mouth moved lower, lips pressing to her collarbone before moving lower still, trailing feather kisses down between her breasts and to her stomach where he paused, only to adjust position. Quite frankly, his obsession with making love to her with his mouth was one she was happy to indulge whenever he was so moved.
Somewhere between her grabbing the bedsheet with one hand while pulling her pillow over her face with the other, Murphy came back to earth. Gasping, she looked up into Peter’s eyes and kissed the smug smile off his face. Yes, jackass, you did that. You do it every time.
He was hard, pressing against her core, but she couldn’t take the pressure. Not yet. Not while her body was still trembling like it was. Slowly, she rolled them, pushing up against his side, her hand moving down to stroke him. Her thumb toyed with the tip of his cock, moving slowly while he bit his lip. The low groan that escaped him sent a new wave of shivers through Murphy’s body and she leaned in to claim his lips, her hand still working him.
His hips bucked against her and one hand moved to her hip, gripping. “I need to be inside of you,” he moaned, breaking the kiss. His fingers moved between her legs, reaching for her, and she yelped when he touched her.
“Not yet,” she teased him while trying to catch her breath. “You kind of screwed yourself over there a few minutes ago.” This moment didn’t preclude anything they might do in a couple of hours, but right now, she was more than happy to watch his face while she stroked him.
His laugh was one of pain more than amusement, but he settled his hand on her hip and let her work him. She picked up the pace, matching the thrusts of his hips and the curses that fell from his lips. Just before her hand got tired, he thrust up against her one last time and came. “Fuck …” he moaned, catching his breath. Murphy reached over him for the box of tissues on his side of the bed. Peter caught her and pulled her against him for a long kiss and she lost herself until the car from the happy meal rolled out of the pillows and startled Peter out of the moment. Murphy cracked up. Peter set the car on his table, took the tissues, and cleaned up. Murphy rolled her eyes at him and slipped out of bed, coming back a couple of minutes later with a warm washcloth. She tossed it to him and chuckled at the look on his face.
“What?” He asked, his tone far too innocent for what they’d just indulged in.
“Nothing …” she chuckled and crawled back onto the bed, snuggling up against him. His arm held her close against his body and she sighed, running her fingers through the hair on his chest. He moaned. “You’re wonderful,” Murphy murmured. “I’m really glad for all the women who have dumped you over the years.”
He cracked up and kissed the top of her head. “I’m glad for all of the men you’ve dumped.”
“We’re a pair, aren’t we?”
“A pretty good one.”
“Almost as good as Annette and Michael.” Murphy raised her head and caught him in a kiss. “I mean, you aren’t president.”
“I know what you do to presidents. I think I’ll take my chances with the press,” Peter teased. “But, if you were a lawyer, I could see you leading the charge for the big environmental firms.”
Murphy groaned. “Lawyer?”
“I said if.”
She shuddered. “I’m about to send you back to Linda.”
“How can I redeem myself?”
Murphy raised an eyebrow as she met his eyes. Peter laughed and kissed her, pushing her back into the pillows.
Yeah. That would do nicely.
Author: vegawriters
Fandom: Murphy Brown
Series: Come Rain, Come Shine
Pairing: Murphy Brown/Peter Hunt
Rating: Adult things happen here. And are talked about here.
Timeframe: Post Rumble in the Alley, but before FYI of the Hurricane
A/N: Okay, get ready for a quick rant - In Rumble in the Alley, Linda and Frank give Murphy and Peter a hard time about ‘not knowing each other’ (which was CRAP). Which, you know, is really mature coming from a guy’s ex-fiance and Frank Fontana who can’t keep a relationship going for more than 5 seconds. This is one of a few responses I have planned for that.
Disclaimer: I’m still not over it. Which is why I write fanfic. Diane and WB own all of the Murphy stuff and has the power to fix it. I can’t remember who owns the rights to The American President, but I’m still not making money off of this. I’m just writing this for fun.
Summary: “I’m really glad for all the women who have dumped you over the years.”
For once, date night was a movie. Lately, schedules had taken them only to late dinners and back to her place to chase Avery into bed before they collapsed themselves. While Murphy didn’t mind conversation in dim restaurants where she could stare into Peter’s eyes while he tried to argue a point, there was something wonderful about being able to sit in a dark theater with the man she loved and not have the story be anything by Disney or about cartoon cats or dragons or whatnot. No, tonight was her, Peter, Annette Benning, and Michael Douglas. Coffee before the show at a spot they’d discovered completely by accident while racing away from rain one night, the movie, and then a late dinner at their favorite all night diner. She wanted cheese fries. Then, if the carbs hadn’t killed her, she fully intended on ravaging her lover until her body couldn’t handle it anymore. Tonight, they were even child free. Reena had offered to watch Avery, which meant their post-show escapades would be at his apartment.
Murphy leaned against Peter as they waited in line. It was chilly. Not chilly enough that she regretted leaving her jacket at in the car, but cool enough that her blouse didn’t quite do the job. He was always so warm and so far, he didn’t seem to mind putting his arms around her to shield the wind. A few people recognized them, one ten year old girl came up for her autograph, saying she wanted to be just like her someday. A teenage boy walked by Peter, his eyes bugging out, and Murphy just chuckled.
“What?”
“Did I just get a glimpse of teenage Petey?”
He silenced her by kissing her. She always forgot everything once his lips touched hers.
Tonight was a dutch night - he got the movie, she got the popcorn. Standing at the counter, she looked at the tubs, knowing full well that they could share it, but she’d never been good at sharing. Murphy plopped down far too much money for two sodas, a box of red vines, and a large popcorn. She was going to regret all of this in the morning.
“Where’s my popcorn?” Peter taunted as she handed him his soda. “Or, are we … sharing?”
“Who said you get any of this?” Murphy shot back. He rolled his eyes but, smartly, didn’t go for his own tub. She followed him through the doors to the theater and grinned as he slid into the back row and lifted the arm rest between two seats. Good. He too had plans for being in a dark theater, it seemed. Peter took the popcorn as she slid her purse under the seat and settled down, soda on one side, red vines in her lap. Once the popcorn was safely back in her hands, Peter also settled and instead of taking back the popcorn, he slipped his hand into her lap and grabbed the candy.
Oh, so that was the mood he was in, hmm? Two could play at this.
But first, he slipped an arm around her and Murphy let herself relax against his body. The only downside to not being home was the lack of a blanket pulled up over them. Movie nights at home - provided Avery was well down for the count - usually involved something they’d seen a million times so that they wouldn’t miss anything while she slid into his lap, grinding against his erection while his hands worked her and his mouth made love to her breasts. Here, at least, they had to maintain some kind of decorum. But she’d worn jeans and he knew full well how to press against the seam and make her eyes roll back in her head.
The theater filled - other middle aged parents out away from the kids for a night. Like her and Peter, here for Michael Douglas. And well, Annette Bening. He’d admitted a crush on both of them and well, Murphy was more than happy to oblige a well written political script and her own fantasies of Michael Douglas’ full lips. Peter reached for the popcorn and she smacked his hand.
“What?”
“You know the rule. If we share, you don’t get any until the actual movie starts.”
“I’m hungry now.”
“Eat candy.”
She could feel him glare at her, but instead of opening the red vines package, he leaned in and nibbled at her neck and he almost got away with reaching for the popcorn, but it wasn’t the perfect angle that made her forget her own name. So she swatted his hand and almost lost the popcorn for her trouble.
“That’s enough,” she chastised him. “You wait.”
“For?”
A smirk pressed her lips together. “Both.” But she reached down and squeezed his thigh. His groan warned her they might not make it through the movie. Were there single stall bathrooms here? No. That was disgusting.
A couple settled down in front of them and to either side and Murphy again willed her libido under control. This wasn’t a deserted theater she could just make out with Peter in. There were people who they could scandalize.
Okay, so that was tempting.
The lights dimmed to bring up the latest preview reel and Murphy guarded the popcorn with her life. Not until the movie itself started. Everytime Peter’s fingers wandered toward the tub, she redirected and finally he gave in, his fingers stroking slowly along her arm. She could feel them walking closer and closer to her breast and wished she’d nixed the bra tonight.
But there were people in the theater.
Damnit.
Finally a series of majestic opening credits rolled and Murphy slipped the popcorn between them, grabbing the first handful. She’d bought it, damnit.
Her secret was she didn’t mind sharing the popcorn with Peter. She liked how their fingers brushed, how he fought with her for bigger handfuls. She liked how his natural musk mixed with the scent of salt and butter and she just wanted to kiss the lingering grease from his lips. Whatever demon had taken possession of her soul to make her this damn sappy and romantic needed to be exorcised now. What was next? A harpist at the wedding?
She focused on the movie.
It was actually fantastic. Capraesque in only the best way, she wanted Annette Bening to win and she cheered for the President’s daughter. Peter’s hand got closer and closer to her in the popcorn and she batted him away. If they were sharing, he shared her way. Which meant she got most of the popcorn. She let him have the red vines save for the few she snagged to act as straws for her soda.
But right around the time that Annette Benning told Michael Douglas about living with disappointment, Peter took the mostly-empty popcorn tub from her. Murphy grabbed for a few kernels and popped them in her mouth, but it didn’t take more than a few seconds to realize what Peter was up to. His lips met hers and she groaned into the kiss, not caring at all who was around and listening. Around them, at least three people shushed them and Murphy tangled her fingers in Peter’s hair, drawing him even closer for a kiss. Oh, later was going to be fun.
They broke apart and settled back down to watch the rest of the movie. His arm tight around her shoulder, her hand high on his thigh. Part of her wanted to skip out on the end, but she needed to make sure the Republicans didn’t win. When President Andrew Shepherd started waxing philosophical about the women he’d loved, Murphy dared a glance at Peter. He wasn’t watching the screen but watching her instead. This time, when he kissed her, it wasn’t passionate and driving, but full of emotion she was still wrestling with.
She loved him too.
The lights came up and Peter let out a breath and stood up, brushing popcorn off his shirt. Murphy grinned. “Need a vacuum there, Petey?”
“Shut up.” He took her hand and pulled her up to him and Murphy lost herself in the kiss. “You sure you’re hungry?” He asked as they broke away.
“Takeout?” She responded. “I mean, cheese fries can wait.”
“It was you?!”
The familiar voice caught her attention and Murphy whipped her head around to see Frank standing there, one row up, his jacket half on.
“You two were the annoying face-sucking couple?!”
Murphy wanted to laugh at her best friend’s horror, but instead she was focused on the blonde next to him. She’d hoped it had just been one night. Instead, there stood Linda, fresh faced and younger than all of them, looking far too comfortable next to Frank Fontana. It had been two months since the bowling alley. What were they still doing dating?
Her heart sank.
Was she going to have to deal with Linda forever?
Worse, the look on Linda’s face set off not just every possessive and jealous bone in her body, but it set off her reporter’s instinct too. Linda was judging them. Just like she’d been judging them two months ago.
She wasn’t immune though to how Peter slipped an arm around her. “Did you two enjoy the movie?”
“It was good,” Linda came back. Murphy knew she had nothing to feel strange about. But here was this beautiful woman on Frank’s arm and she should have cheered for him but she just wanted the bitch gone.
Worse, Linda wasn’t a bitch. She was lovely and sweet and exactly the kind of perfect woman that Peter used to leave.
“Well,” Frank said, “other than that couple --”
“Shut up, Frank,” Murphy cut him off.
“We’re heading to dinner,” Linda piped up. “Would you two care to join us?”
Sitting down with Linda was exactly the last thing she wanted to do. Luckily, Peter seemed to read her mind. “Rain check. No offense,” Peter said with a smile, “but we’ve actually got a child-free night and Murphy and I are looking to take advantage of it.”
“I see,” Frank snarked, his sarcastic tone making every muscle in Murphy’s back clench. “I mean, it’s such a responsibility. Taking on --”
“Shut up, Frank,” Murphy retorted. “I don’t see you offering to babysit.” She slipped her arm around Peter’s waist. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
She wanted to look back as they walked away, but she held her ground. She loved Frank like a brother, but his inability to understand Peter’s presence in her life had long since grown old. “You up for cheese fries?” She asked as they got to Peter’s Range Rover.
“Definitely,” he said. He kissed her softly before opening the door for her and she let the exchange with Frank fade away. That he was still dating Linda lingered longer than she wanted it to and she could tell it was sitting strangely with Peter too.
“Peter?”
He looked at her when he came to a stop at a light. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Murphy feigned innocence and then pushed right past the boundary he’d set in place. “I didn’t know they were still seeing each other.”
“Look. I know the guy is harmless. I wouldn’t have called Linda that night if I didn’t think otherwise. But …” He ran a hand through his hair and refocused on traffic as the light changed.
“But what?”
Peter shook his head and Murphy squared up, ready for the argument that was coming. They didn’t argue often, their time was too precious for it, but sometimes challenges about stories, the occasional frustration over schedules, and of course, Frank, rose to the surface. But Peter didn’t go where she expected him to go.
“Were you and Frank ever a thing?”
For a fleeting instant she was shocked and insulted he’d asked the question. Then, logic settled onto her shoulders and it made sense. It was, after all, a question he’d never asked.
“Truth? He tried to pick me up when we first met. But his automatic assumption that because I’d talked to him first meant I wanted to sleep with him annoyed me. I mean, he was kind of cute but not my type. We’re friends. That’s all we’ve ever been.”
“He acts more like a jealous ex-lover than a best friend.”
“He isn’t.” Murphy sighed and looked out the window. “Honestly, I think …” She trailed off, trying to find her words.
“What?”
“You didn’t know me when I was drinking, Peter.” The range rover was suddenly a comfortable bubble and she didn’t want to get out. “Go through the Mcdonald’s drive through,” she said. “Let’s do that instead.” He didn’t argue. At the window, he ordered identical meals for them - Big Macs and large fries. Diet soda for her. And a McNuggets happy meal that she knew they’d split and whoever got the last fry would keep the toy. What Avery didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
She waited until he was back on the road again, just driving. She let him choose where.
“Like all alcoholics, I handled it all really well at first. But eventually, I just … stopped being good at the things I was good at. And I’m not saying that I was ever good at choosing men but as I got worse, so did my taste. Frank was there for a lot of it. He had to witness the aftermath. So, if he acts like a jealous lover,” she rolled her eyes. “It’s because after a while, all it ever was, was him and me. It made sense. He isn’t used to … well … this.” She popped a nugget into her mouth and chewed.
“I like Frank,” Peter admitted. “I mean, I don’t understand why he’s so threatened by the world, but I like him.”
“There’s an entire industry built around understanding men like Frank,” Murphy said, chuckling. “It’s frustrating. But under all of it, he is a good guy.”
“I know.”
Silence. Peter grabbed a few fries. Murphy tried to formulate her question. “If you’re worried he will hurt Linda, I’d be more worried about her hurting him.”
“I’m not. Not really. She can handle herself. She dumped me, remember.”
“Do you regret it?”
“The relationship or her dumping me?”
“Both.” She wasn’t sure she wanted the answer. “When we got together, you said you had a habit of leaving the right women.”
“No. To both.” He pulled into the lot near the Mall and turned the car off. Beyond them, the monuments glowed in the lights. “Linda was the right person at the right time for a guy in his mid-twenties who needed some stability. Her breaking off our engagement was also the right thing for me. I didn’t want what she wanted to give me.”
“Which was what?”
“Honestly,” he looked at her and in the dim light, his eyes were warm and tender. “She was boring as hell. She was stable. She did the right things. Had the right plans. It’s something a guy who lives overseas most of the time should want and I was bored out of my mind.” He chuckled. “Even the sex was pretty basic.”
Murphy grabbed another nugget. “Now you’re just stroking my ego.”
“Maybe,” he took one of the burgers and bit into it. “But it’s also true. She’d actually be perfect for Frank. Something tells me he needs good old fashioned stability in his life.”
“It’s just weird though,” Murphy said, her eyes not focused on anything. She took some fries. “Maybe because he didn’t tell me and I usually know everything about the women he’s seeing within three dates.”
“He wants you to scare them away.”
“Yeah, he does.” She sighed. “Confession.”
“Okay?”
“He and I talked about having a baby together a while back.”
Peter choked on his food. Murphy glanced at him. “You okay there, Pete Moss?”
“You did what?”
“This was, obviously, before Avery. I got it in my head that it was time for me to have a baby and I didn’t want to just go through a book of nameless people so I asked Frank.”
“And he went for it?”
“He did. Harder than I did, actually. My tunnel vision faded after a couple of days, but he was gung ho.”
“What changed your mind?”
Murphy sucked up all her courage and looked at Peter. “I was still holding out hope that maybe, someday, I could have a child with a man I loved. A man I wanted to spend my life with. When Jake and I got pregnant, I figured at least I was having a child with someone I do love.”
“So you don’t want to get back together with him?”
“I’m always going to love Jake,” she said. “And every time I look at Avery, I see Jake looking back at me. But we’re disasters for each other and it only took my getting pregnant and him running off for me to realize that.” And in the moment, it made sense to tell him something no one else knew. “When we were married ... “ she expelled a slow breath. “Well. This is something I haven’t told anyone, Peter. Not even Jake knows. Okay,” she stumbled over herself, “my girlfriend in college who helped me through it but --”
“You had an abortion?”
“In 68, yeah.”
She expected him to bristle. She expected him to get out of the car and storm off. You could take the Catholic out of church but it was harder to remove the Catholic from the man. Instead, he turned in his seat and took her hands and she realized there were tears in his eyes.
“You had an abortion? In 68? God. Murphy. You could have died.”
She quirked a bit of a smile, trying to keep it light. “But I didn’t. I also didn’t end up in a situation where I was fired because I was pregnant. I just don’t talk about it. And no, I don’t regret it. Also, I had a damn good doctor. This wasn’t some back alley thing. I had good care. It hurt like hell and I bled pretty hard for a few days, but I was okay.” She’d get into other details later. This was a lot for tonight as it was.
Silence. He stroked her cheek.
“Weren’t we talking about Frank and Linda?” She gasped out after a minute, the emotion in the car so thick she could barely breathe. How had they ended up down this road again?
A beat. Another. And then Peter pulled back into his own space. “Yeah.”
“You’re okay with it, right?” She looked at him. “I mean…”
“Yes,” Peter didn’t hesitate, and she appreciated it. “You did what you had to do.”
Not for the first time in their relationship, she wondered where his mind went when he thought about kids. She knew how much he adored Avery, but did he want a child for himself? One to carry one whatever caveman DNA men worried about? She almost asked. Almost. But what if asking meant he started thinking about it? What if it changed everything?
“Can we go for a walk?” The car was suddenly confining.
Peter nodded and Murphy opened the door, escaping into the chilly air. This time, she grabbed her jacket. Peter’s hand found hers and they headed on up the Mall in silence.
***
Annoyance pricked at Peter’s skin. Not at her. And not even at Frank, although it was Frank’s presence with Peter’s ex-fiance that had killed his plans to get Murphy naked and spend the night drowning between her thighs. He didn’t handle insecurity well and tonight was a flea dip in it. At times, he actually envied Frank’s ability to walk around like the world was ending. There had to be something freeing about showing that part of yourself to the world. It was enough, really, that Murphy saw through his walls. She always had.
They walked in silence for a while. Peter appreciated these moments. As much as he loved their endless conversations about politics and culture and how animated they both got about stories they were working on, as fun as it was to spend the night wrestling in her bed, it was these quiet moments that he loved the most. He loved knowing they could exist in silence, together, and they didn’t need to fill the quiet with incoherent sound.
Still. The conversation stayed with him. Murphy’s abortion, the questions they both had about these people in their lives.
“I’m sorry,” he said, surprising himself and her.
“About what?”
“I never told you about Linda. That we’d been engaged, that we were still friends.”
“Peter, if Avery wasn’t in the picture, I might still not have told you about Jake.”
He chuckled a bit. “For two people who make their living learning things …”
“I think we’ve covered this hiccup in our relationship already,” she squeezed his hand. “And honestly, I kind of like not knowing everything. It gives me reasons to keep you around. I’ve got more to learn.” She sighed. “Though I do wish Linda and Frank weren’t our catalysts for these conversations.”
He chuckled. “Me too.”
“Lessons learned then? That maybe we need to risk these conversations on our own?”
He tugged her close and wrapped an arm around her as they walked. “You okay if Frank and Linda keep dating?”
“Peter, he’s been seeing her and I haven’t been given every single detail. The peace is wonderful.”
That made him laugh. “It won’t be awkward for you though?”
She tilted her head to him. “You think I’m insecure about some nitwit who wasn’t smart enough to hold on to the best guy she’s ever dated? I mean, I should be thanking her for walking away from you.”
He couldn’t help but wonder if the humor was a defense mechanism, but hearing her not feel insecure meant more than picking apart any internal questions she might be wrestling with. They’d come a long way and, looking at her, he knew that waiting to find the woman he wanted to spend his life with had been the best decision he’d ever made. The realization hit him hard enough that he had to catch his breath. But, it was true.
The woman he’d been waiting for was right here, in his arms. Frank and Linda could do whatever they wanted.
***
It still felt weird to have seen Frank and Linda at the movie, but whatever. She’d get over it. She had to. For once, it wasn’t any of her business who Frank was dating because he hadn’t made it her business. Well, until she came home to sixteen messages on her machine where he wondered about breaking up with Linda or some such nonsense.
But tonight, still, was about her and Peter.
She stretched out on his bed, still munching on cold chicken nuggets and driving the little car from the happy meal around the messed up sheets. Just as his hands had moved up under her shirt, a source called with some info on a story and Murphy was useless. It wasn’t the first time this had happened to them, but tonight none of the books around her was holding her attention, so she’d changed into one of Peter’s shirts and occupied her time rolling the car around the blankets like it was the backcountry. If he didn’t get off the phone soon, she’d just crash. Not the most exciting night they’d ever spent together, but the conversation after the movie had moved her more than she could express, even if she was just tired of dealing with emotions tonight.
For the first time in her life, she was truly in love with someone. She wanted more than to just rip his clothes off at the end of the day or trip over each other as they locked the door to her office. She wanted more than to steal stories from him; she wanted to listen to what he was working on and offer opinions and suggestions. She almost wanted him to do the same for her. When he did, the story was always better.
It terrified her, being in this position. She had always thought relationships needed to be fireworks and drama. Screaming matches that ended at car rental counters. Friends who hated your boyfriend and boyfriends who isolated their time. She hadn’t expected what had so quickly and effortlessly become this partnership between them. Okay. It wasn’t effortless. But they made it work.
Peter wandered by the open door, the phone pressed to his ear, and waved. Murphy chuckled and gave in. She blew him a kiss and grabbed the toy car, leaving it on his pillow, chucked the empty happy meal box into the bedroom trash, and snuggled into the covers.
Sleep took her faster than she would ever admit and she woke to feel Peter’s warm body pressing up against her from behind. A sigh escaped her and she pushed into his arms, tangling her legs with his as his hand moved up her thigh.
“You fix your story?” She mumbled.
“No,” he chuckled. “But maybe have a new angle.” His fingers were dancing along the softness of her inner thigh and Murphy ground back against him, feeling his body’s reaction. “And we got interrupted earlier.”
“You think you can just wake me up and convince me to roll over?” She teased, reaching back behind her to stroke along his bare thigh.
“Hoping, maybe.” He kissed her neck and pushed his hand up, under the barrier of her t-shirt, coming to rest on her breast. He squeezed lightly, his fingers working her nipple, and whatever pretense Murphy had for playing sleepy and hard to get faded away. She rolled to face him, sitting up enough so he could tug her shirt over her head and came back into his arms. He grinned and leaned in to kiss her again, adjusting their bodies slowly as hands trailed over bared skin.
His mouth moved lower, lips pressing to her collarbone before moving lower still, trailing feather kisses down between her breasts and to her stomach where he paused, only to adjust position. Quite frankly, his obsession with making love to her with his mouth was one she was happy to indulge whenever he was so moved.
Somewhere between her grabbing the bedsheet with one hand while pulling her pillow over her face with the other, Murphy came back to earth. Gasping, she looked up into Peter’s eyes and kissed the smug smile off his face. Yes, jackass, you did that. You do it every time.
He was hard, pressing against her core, but she couldn’t take the pressure. Not yet. Not while her body was still trembling like it was. Slowly, she rolled them, pushing up against his side, her hand moving down to stroke him. Her thumb toyed with the tip of his cock, moving slowly while he bit his lip. The low groan that escaped him sent a new wave of shivers through Murphy’s body and she leaned in to claim his lips, her hand still working him.
His hips bucked against her and one hand moved to her hip, gripping. “I need to be inside of you,” he moaned, breaking the kiss. His fingers moved between her legs, reaching for her, and she yelped when he touched her.
“Not yet,” she teased him while trying to catch her breath. “You kind of screwed yourself over there a few minutes ago.” This moment didn’t preclude anything they might do in a couple of hours, but right now, she was more than happy to watch his face while she stroked him.
His laugh was one of pain more than amusement, but he settled his hand on her hip and let her work him. She picked up the pace, matching the thrusts of his hips and the curses that fell from his lips. Just before her hand got tired, he thrust up against her one last time and came. “Fuck …” he moaned, catching his breath. Murphy reached over him for the box of tissues on his side of the bed. Peter caught her and pulled her against him for a long kiss and she lost herself until the car from the happy meal rolled out of the pillows and startled Peter out of the moment. Murphy cracked up. Peter set the car on his table, took the tissues, and cleaned up. Murphy rolled her eyes at him and slipped out of bed, coming back a couple of minutes later with a warm washcloth. She tossed it to him and chuckled at the look on his face.
“What?” He asked, his tone far too innocent for what they’d just indulged in.
“Nothing …” she chuckled and crawled back onto the bed, snuggling up against him. His arm held her close against his body and she sighed, running her fingers through the hair on his chest. He moaned. “You’re wonderful,” Murphy murmured. “I’m really glad for all the women who have dumped you over the years.”
He cracked up and kissed the top of her head. “I’m glad for all of the men you’ve dumped.”
“We’re a pair, aren’t we?”
“A pretty good one.”
“Almost as good as Annette and Michael.” Murphy raised her head and caught him in a kiss. “I mean, you aren’t president.”
“I know what you do to presidents. I think I’ll take my chances with the press,” Peter teased. “But, if you were a lawyer, I could see you leading the charge for the big environmental firms.”
Murphy groaned. “Lawyer?”
“I said if.”
She shuddered. “I’m about to send you back to Linda.”
“How can I redeem myself?”
Murphy raised an eyebrow as she met his eyes. Peter laughed and kissed her, pushing her back into the pillows.
Yeah. That would do nicely.