𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 | the 100

20 | To Care

"You can stop pretending I'm worth it now."

‧ ✩ ｡ ✭ ° ☆ ･ _______ ･ ☆ ° ✭ ｡ ✩ ‧

"I've seen grandmas react faster." Murphy berates her from behind his raised fists.

"Oh, really?" Amber mutters behind hers, patience draining and knees tiring. "I didn't know you were such a grandma's boy."

"I'm not."

Despite the warning he gives in his change of posture, she's caught off guard when he swings. She jumps back and narrowly avoids the punch, but almost trips over herself as her heart pounds against her throat in alarm. Regaining her footing, she shoots Murphy a look of betrayed disbelief.

He shrugs, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. Then he starts to circle her.

"Right. How could I forget... You're an asshole before anything else," she nervously responds while she turns to keep him in her line of sight. "And do I need to remind you that I'm a damsel in distress? Would you really beat up a damsel in distress?"

"Sounds exactly like what an asshole would do."

He leaps with a fist aimed at her face. She clenches her eyes shut.

The punch never comes, and when she opens her eyes again, Murphy looks at her with heavy-lidded eyes and slightly raised eyebrows, a mix of disappointment and amusement.

"If you can't dodge then at least block."

"But you haven't even told me how to do that yet," she insists desperately, dragging fingers through her hair. After a long sigh she mutters, "You're the worst teacher I've ever had."

"And you're the worst student I've ever had." His smirk is back.

"I'm the only student you've ever had." She ignores his eye roll. "But I don't know how long that will last by the rate this is going."

"Considering I wasn't exactly a star student myself, I think it's fitting that I'm not a star teacher either." When she doesn't laugh, his shoulders slump. "If you don't want to get knocked out after one punch then raise your fists. Getting punched on your forearms is better than your face."

"Have you ever been knocked out after one punch?" she dares to ask as she raises her fists to chin level. Her question might come from genuine curiosity, but there's also an addictive thrill to challenging his pride.

"Do I look like someone who loses fights?" he responds with a raised eyebrow and a self-assured grin.

She gives him a thorough look, scanning from top to bottom. If she didn't know him then the answer would have been a resounding no. But she does know him.

"Fine, don't answer that," he mutters, deliberately ignoring the twitch at the corner of her mouth.

With a final sigh he signals that it's time to get back to work. He adjusts his stance and Amber tries to replicate it while he observes her critically.

"Here." He steps closer to lay one hand on her shoulder and the other on her hip to turn her torso a few degrees. They both glance down as he finds the right angle, then look up together.

Her heart skips. They're close, and he's touching her. The soft press of his fingers burns a wildfire through her. She leans away.

His gaze flickers away and he steps back, suddenly embarrassed. "And, uh... Keep your feet further apart, your balance is way off."