Nicholas: Badly written, old fic from when I was REALLY bored before I even owned the Boondock Saints. I tried to reread it and rescue it from failure, so this is the slightly revised version. Just so you know, I'm not quiting my other stories. Far from that, actually. I just need to be able to write other stuff as well.
Disclaimer: If I really have to say it again, I'll shoot myself in the foot
Rating: M...for language, Ma torturing twins (he he he), and the yummy slashiness that we have all come to love.
"MA!" they were frantically shouting into the receiver of the phone. "Ma! Jesus Christ, MA, NO!!" They heard her shouting on the other end and then, suddenly the gun went off. Connor was the idiot that threw the phone halfway across the room, scared shiteless for the life of his mother. Murphy stood, trying to catch it. Connor stood as well, tipping the ice pack he'd used to relieve his package of the pain he'd gained that day. A mess of ice, Murphy, Connor, phone and "No MA!" and they finally had the phone to both their ears, listening intently. Connor felt a piece of ice under his chest as he lay almost under his brother on the floor after the episode of rescuing the phone from an icy death.
"MA!" he shouted into the receiver. His brother echoed him. He thought he heard something on the other line. "Ma!" he shouted again. The entire world was crashing down on him. He felt himself still falling even though he was firmly on the floor. Then, he heard the laughing.
His mother was on the other end laughing her head off at her little St. Patty's Day joke. "That was a good one, Mother," Murphy said with a relieved sigh.
Connor rested his forehead on the floor and sighed. "What an evil woman," he said. He felt quite embarrassed as he heard his mother mimicking their shouts of "Ma, no! Christ Ma, no! Jesus Ma!" He could hear her hysterical laughter even though he'd long since released the phone.
"She's quite proud o' herself," Murphy said.
"Oh, I bet she is," Connor muttered. 'If I was wearing pants I think they'd be off now,' he thought to himself. He grabbed a piece of ice and slipped it underneath his body.
Something was said on the other end and Murphy picked Connor's head up and put it against his own so they both could listen to the phone. "Both here, Ma," he said. Connor had said something he didn't quiet remember even when he said it.
"It's only eleven here, boys, so I got lots more drinking to do with your worthless relatives down at the Anvil," she said from the other end.
"Just called to torture us, did ya?" Murphy muttered, hopelessly.
"Ma, how's uncle Sibeal?" Connor inquired.
"You know how he is. He's always complaining about never making a profit on St. Patty's. Whole damn family goes down there with no money because we know he can't bare to charge us." She took a long drink. "But he's been havin' a drink or two himself. Been up the waitress' skirt all night, poor girl."
"You tell him to take it easy with that, Ma," Murphy said, "He's got to learn to respect women, like Connor does." He patted his brother's head and Connor knew exactly what he was leading up to. "I gave him his first lesson in sensitivity to the fairer sex just today!"
"Oh Christ, don't even start!" Connor said pushing him awkwardly, Murphy was still on top of him. "Ya little bastard!"
"He got beat up by a girl!"
Connor stole the phone away, determined to defend his case. "If that was a girl, I want to see some papers," he said, "Ma, she had to be just preoperative for Christ's fuckin' sake!"
"Lord's fuckin' name," Ma snapped.
"Mother Mary, full o' grace," they muttered in unison, crossing themselves.
"What'd you do, Connor?"
Connor gasped as if offended that his mother would even think that he did something against the girl. "I tried to make friends and she gave me a shot to the nuts."
"The dirty bitch," Ma said, "I hope you trounced her a good one."
"You know I didn't, Ma, but Murphy…" he began.
"Ah, don't worry, Ma," Murphy interrupted him. "I respected the Hell out of her for you." He kicked Connor's leg teasingly.
It was getting kind of annoying that Connor, being stark naked, was pressed down to the floor under his brother and Murphy, having a towel around him, was on top. "Now listen," Ma said, "I know how my boys take to scrappin' when they take to drinkin'."
"Yes, Mother," Murphy and Connor said with boredom in unison.
"I mean it now," she went on, "No fighting. I carried both you bastards around in me belly at the same time, you ungrateful pissants. You ruined my girlish figure in one fell swoop, and then you sucked me dry. My tits are hanging down to my ankles. I'm trippin' over them for Christ's sake! So, no fighting?"
"Yes, Mother," Connor said.
"Promise me, boys," Ma said.
"We promise, Mother," they both said.
"Well," she said with a smile in her voice, "There's my boys. Oh shit." She suddenly sounded very nervous. "Gotta go. Looks like I caused a ruckus with that shot, half the damn neighborhood's coming."
"All right, love ya, Ma," Murphy said, "but before you go, just give us the goods, please?"
"Yeah, come on, Ma," Connor said, "It's been twenty-seven years."
"Ah, still bickering over that, are you?" Ma said.
"Of course we are," Connor replied, "Now, out with it, who came out first?" He felt Murphy's hand on his chest push him away slightly. He gave his twin a smack to the head.
"Okay, I suppose you have the right to know," she said, taking her sweet time. She took another drink. "Are you ready?"
"Go on!" they both said, trying to keep themselves calm.
There was a short silence on the other side. Then a sigh was heard. "The one with the bigger cock," she said at length, then started laughing her head off again. The line disconnected.
Connor took the phone and just stared at it for a moment. He felt Murphy slowly get off of him. "What fuck is that?" he exclaimed, "That's you're fuckin' mother talking like that! Fuckin'-A!"
"It's your fuckin' mother," Murphy said, burying his face in his arms. He didn't know why he'd gotten all excited. He knew she'd do something like that.
Connor got up and clicked the phone off and tossed it on the couch. He picked up his beer, which had surprisingly not fallen, and took a drink that finished off the can. He looked over to see Murphy on his back now, looking at Connor's little buddy with a stupid smirk on his face. "Oh, don't even fuckin' start," Connor snapped, "I've had ice on mine, all right?" He walked towards the showers.
"I could, uh, warm it up for you," Murphy said, watching as he passed by.
"Murph, that was a horrible pick-up line, you do realize that, don't you?"
"Sorry," he said, "but you know, what's said is said."
"No, brother mine," Connor replied, "You'd have a better chance with rape, if you're going to talk like that." He was taking a pair of boxers and jeans off the tile wall next to the shower when suddenly he was tackled. He wasn't pushed to the ground, but he was caught off guard enough to be pushed down to the bed. He managed to turn on his back before Murphy had hold of his arms and his legs were trapped under his twin's.
"What's this I hear about rape, eh?" he said quietly. His mouth occupied Connor's in a powerful kiss before Connor could really say anything in protest. Connor felt his arms pulled behind his head and bucked his body in and instinctive movement to get free. Murphy held tight and broke the kiss. He took, instead, to placing delicate kisses around Connor's jaw.
"Murphy," Connor said, surprisingly quiet and fearful. "Murph, this is wrong."
"The priest once told me ta do as I feel is right," Murphy said, placing each kiss deliberately, "and this does feel so right." His kisses were getting longer and moving lower and he would occasionally nip the skin. Each nip and bite brought the memory of some bad time and each kiss was simple ecstasy. There were a hell of a lot more kisses than bites.
Connor silently admitted that in his heart nothing was wrong, but his mind knew otherwise. He felt a burning sensation with each kiss, each touch. Murphy kept above him, only letting as little of their bodies touch as possible. Connor tried to move closer to him, but Murphy just held tighter. Then Connor felt Murphy's tongue suddenly exploring his ear. Murphy had fixed it so that Connor's hands were tangled in the sheets above his head. He now had his hands free.
Connor's body jumped ever so slightly when he felt a burning touch on his chest. He couldn't get his hands free, nor concentrate on getting his hands free. Murphy's other hand was currently stroking him. "We'll see who came out first, eh, brother?" he said.
Connor said nothing. His back arched and his mind raced.
Connor was on his stomach, somewhere between dreams and reality. Pain was a dull, numb sensation that covered him like a warm blanket. His eyes were half opened and half closed and his mouth was curled in an odd smile. He felt the sheet on his bed still clutched in his fists above his head. His mind was still trying to comprehend Murphy's process of finding out "who came out first." Just as he thought he was almost asleep he felt something warm snake over his back.
He stirred just slightly and turned to look at the body he knew was next to him. Murphy, now without towel, was sprawled out beside him looking exhausted. His eyes were open still, but they had a sort of glazed over look of some one staring off into space. After a moment or two his arm, which he'd absentmindedly placed on his brother's back, moved up the sweat-slicked skin until his fingers rustled through Connor's hair. "I guess you're older," he said with a stupid, intoxicated smile.
"Am I now?" Connor replied, "It doesn't feel that way, being that I just got dominated by my wee little brother." He laughed quietly when he felt Murphy tug at his hair half-heartedly.
"By maybe a minute or two," Murphy hissed, trying to be forceful, though he sounded like he needed sleep three weeks ago. "I do feel a bit like a fucked up rapist, now," he said with a laugh.
"Aye, but Murph," Connor began with a sloppy smile. "You can't rape the willing."
"Aye, I'll drink to that," Murphy said, "I think it's about time we made our way over to McGinty's and celebrated St. Patty's the proper Irish way. With a whole lot o' drinkin'." He pushed himself up and cracked his back before dressing himself.