Sometimes, Murphy was Loki in a mortal's body. Spare key in hand, he would leave for Rocco's, giggling, He would hide behind the front door, and Rocco would unsuspectingly kick off his shoes, drop his coat on the peg, and head for the living room, while Murph waited for the perfect moment to spring out, screaming bloody murder and grabbing our friend.

Sometimes, he nearly sprung one he got such a kick out of it.

Today was no exception.

Rocco screamed like a girl while Murphy grinned and cackled like an idiot.

"Fucking fuck!" Rocco spun around, knowing full well who his attacker was, and grabbed his chest, praying his heart wouldn't burst through his ribcage.

"Aye, Roc! Maybe you should check yer place before ya head on in!" Murphy threw his head back with laughter. "One day, it might not be me jumpin' ya."

Rocco pushed the Irish comedian-wannabe away with a friendly shove of both hands. "That's the day I pray for, Murph."

A good fright always made him feel more alive; he figured Murphy knew, and that's why he didn't take his keys away from him. They were safe in Murphy's pocket, and they always would be.

"You want some fuckin' breakfast, you asshole?" Rocco offered, finally squirming his feet out of his socks and kicking them away - in Murphy's honoured direction, of course.

"Aye, what've ya got?" he grinned, pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jeans pocket, and lit one as they walked toward the kitchen.

"I gotta check, you 'nd your damn brother probably ate me out of house and home last time you took care of the place, and I haven't really been here yet myself."

Murphy passed the smoke over to Rocco, and lit another for himself, leaning against a counter. "No worries, we did a little shopping... Gotta feed all those nice ladies something." He winked.

Rocco gave no reply, trying to ignore the picture of Murphy and his brother and a woman - only one woman, mind you - having a sexy romp throughout his apartment. He wondered if they really did do everything together.

"I bought some cereal," Murphy offered.

"Do the two of you ever eat anything healthy?"

"Well, there was this fish-smelling juice a nice lady let me..." Another devilish grin.

"Ohh, fuck right off, that's disgusting." There was a twinkle in Rocco's eye as he spoke. He loved chumming around with either one of the MacManus brothers; they could always cheer him up after a hellish business trip.

"I think she left you a surprise in your room," the grin wouldn't go away.

Rocco hesitated. "Well, I hope she's still breathing."

"Maybe she'll do even more."

He laughed, pushing his hair back from his face. "I'm only going in there to see what kind of damage you did, if there was a woman in there, I wouldn't want her now."

"Wouldn't be much of her left to want."

Murphy hopped up on the counter, crossed his ankles, took a drag of his cigarette as Rocco chuckled and headed down the hallway. He smiled to himself, and exhaled as he heard Rocco scream - just like a little girl, just how Murphy loved.

"Fucking fuck!"

Connor roared with laughter as he walked down the hallway to the kitchen, one arm around Rocco's shoulders. "Aye, you were right Murph, it is more fun than it looks."

"I hate you fuckin' guys, you know that."

Skippy sauntered down the hallway, obviously disturbed from a relaxed slumber. He blinked at the three men, and sticking his tiny nose in the air, walked past to his food dish and sat, waiting.

"You're gonna kill me one day, give me a heart attack and you'll be laughing too hard to call an ambulance." He pulled a bag of cat food from one of the cupboard; the cat thanked him by sticking it's ass up into the air.

Connor pulled three bowls and spoons from where they belonged and set them on the counter, in a row; his brother pulled milk from the refrigerator.

"Stop lyin', Roc, you'd take us on a minute if we let you," Connor nudged him.

Rocco froze, a previous thought coming back to haunt him for a split second. "Shut up and get your cereal."

Murphy leaned back in his chair, put the bowl up to his mouth, and slurped the milk into his mouth, making obnoxious noise on purpose.

The other two ignored him, slowly chewing their Froot Loops, and discussing seriously Rocco's work. Murphy never liked to talk about work, unless it was about women working on him. Connor worried sometimes about his brother's seemingly-unsatisfiable lust.

Their low voices being the only sound in the apartment, Murphy let himself be distracted by the cat's tiny pitter-pattering as he crossed the linoleum floor; by the little sounds he made when he stopped to lick his paw. Slinking out of his chair, he sneaked up on the cat and grabbed it, it's furry body in his hands.

Surprisingly, Skippy didn't seem startled, or to mind, quite unlike his nervous owner. He purred and nuzzled Murphy, who stroked him affectionately. He gave the cat little kisses, trying to not listen to the other two's awful-boring conversation. There weren't enough naked ladies in Rocco's stories, that's what the problem was.

Skippy suddenly wiggled, trying to get free. Murphy let him go, and the cat headed towards his water dish. Murphy decided that Rocco's homecoming should be a joyous one. With that decision - and absolutely no plan - in mind, he jumped to his feet.

"Aye!"

Connor and Rocco turned to look at him; their heads had been bent low as if they were telling secrets, and now they looked guilty, like a couple of teenagers caught kissing in the back of a classroom.

"Aye, what is it?"

Rocco leaned back. He saw that cute, sly look on his friend's face and wondered what was coming.

"I think our good pal Rocco here needs a smile or two before ... ya know, ya bore each other to death."

"I'm sure there's beautiful, willing women in Heaven... He'll be happier than you."

"Ehhh..." Murphy jerked a hand out towards the table, swung it. The only thing in his path was the box of Froot Loops they'd been chowing down on. The still-open box fell to the floor, and the small sugary O's scattered over the linoleum. "Heh."

Thank goodness someone had thought to put the milk away, or this would be a dreadful mess.

"Ayyyyyye!" Connor's war-chant (and now his newly-discovered Rocco-scaring-yell) came out of his throat, and he bolted out of his chair, flung his arms out, and held his brother in a wrestling hold of sorts. "Get 'im, Roc!"

Rocco jumped up out of his chair and joined the fun.

Skippy high-tailed it back to the safety of the bedroom.

Panting and giggling like preschoolers, three grown men lay in a sweaty and exhausted heap in an apartment kitchen. They were all wound around one another somehow, cereal crushed under their recent battles. They were coated in powdered, coloured sugar, and when someone discovered a spoon on the floor - and began making obscene gestures with it - the tittering didn't stop.

Secretly, they all loved times like this; a full stomach, a grinning face, and feeling safe and stupid with your best friends. No one is thinking of anything but how content they are. This didn't feel like an awkward date with a girlfriend when you pop a little chubby and aren't sure if you can kiss her without her leaning up against her - and potentially getting a slap in the face.

In their heterosexual ways, the three of them were bonding. It was a friendship - nearly a love, if one is so bold - they had, and they could make it through anything; 'til death would they part.

Cigarettes were lit, but no one got up off the floor. The sun was a little brighter through the windows than it had been when they all sat down to eat. They were covered in cereal dust, Connor had Rocco's hair in his mouth and was attempting to chew on it without his friend noticing, and Murphy was sprawled out on top of their legs.

He wondered if, when he got an erection... did he get heavier at the waist? He glanced down absent-mindedly, and grinned.