Summary: "After a hard day at work, we was hoping to come home ta a lovin' woman. But look at her go!" The twins were the highlight in my life as a bartender at McGinty's. But I find myself in for a lot more trouble than I asked for after the Russians arrive, the cold barrel resting against my head being one. Connor/OC/Murphy.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Boondock Saints, only my OC. SIgh.
Working as a bartender at McGinty's with a homely Irish man, in a shoddy Irish neighborhood, had its perks and downfalls. The pay wasn't the great in the world, but Doc, god bless the old man, gave me more than what my job entitled. Thankfully the perks outweighed the cons by a landslide, so I didn't have the inclination to change my lifestyle anytime soon.
An involuntary smile made its way onto my face as I served up another pint of Guinness at the already plastered Louie, a sweet-heart of a regular.
"Than'ks, lovely," The older gentleman managed out with a goofy smile, eliciting a laugh from me, "Can't have me, too much, it's Patty's Day!"
"You're very welcome, Louie," I wiped down the spill near his empty glass, already making my way down the bar towards Doc to help. There was a distinct lack of Irish in my voice and appearance, but I loved everything about these rowdy Irishmen. And it didn't seem to bother Doc or the customers at all that I worked at the Irish bar.
This night in particular had the place packed to the point where it was bursting at the seams. All the staff were working non-stop, always moving as they bustled to cater to the customers. My feet ached more than usual and my clothes were stained with every brand of alcohol available here. But I was having the time of my life. And it was obvious why though, it was the holiday of drinking.
"Happy fuckin' Saint Patty's Day!" Twin voices called out from the door.
Another round of rambunctious laughter and cheer deafened the ears of all the McGinty's patrons. It was only but a few seconds before two familiar faces with roguish, heart stopping smiles greeted me.
"Well, if it isn't our favorite Irish-by-heart woman," Connor MacManus began, reaching over the counter to pull my hand away from cleaning. Before I could protest, he placed a kiss on my knuckle. The blush growing on my face started even before his lips touched my skin, his gray-blue eyes never leaving mine. Connor was definitely a lady-killer with his almost-blonde hair spiked and blowing everywhere. He was a well-built man, his black sweater doing wonders in showing it off. When he wanted to, he could talk the pants off any woman.
"I'd say the best part o' coming here, especially on Saint Patty's. Ey, dear brother?" Murphy MacManus cut in, taking my hand from his brother and flipping it to place his own kiss on my palm. Unlike his brother, Murphy was the darker one, his black hair short and almost-tame. Compared to his brother, Murphy was much more lean but still muscular. His own sweater hung on to him. His eyes, took my breath away every time, they were a lighter and stronger blue.
Damn them both for being so attractive, their Irish accent and personalities only adding onto their appeal. I was pretty sure they coordinated their wardrobe consciously and unconsciously. It was cute.
Sometimes I wished I could join them as a patron at the bar rather than working. But only sometimes, it was just as fun being the one serving the drinks.
It didn't even seem to dawn on them that my hand, after working so long, might not exactly be the cleanest or pleasant smelling.
The twin grins on their faces almost had me a mess on the floor.
Almost.
Rolling my eyes I took my hand back, unwillingly, and snapped the dirty towel at them.
"Y'all say that to all the girls here, boys. You're not gettin' a free drink from me," pulling an Irish accent, one I've mastered after working here for so long. The boys always seemed to get a kick out of it, asking me to speak with an accent often. They really did make me feel a bit better about my ruffled appearance. The black v-neck shirt and shorts looked fine, as well as my hair, a few hours ago but now, I was pretty sure I looked about as worn in as I felt.
"Why I never!"
"Look at tha lass, talkin' to us like that."
"After everything we've talked 'bout!"
"After a hard day at work, we was hoping to come home ta a lovin' woman. But look at her go!"
They were like textbook twins, starting and finishing one after the other.
The mock looks of insult on their faces had me laughing as I leaned forward and placed pecks on their cheeks.
"Happy Saint Patty's Day."
As the night rolled in, the noise level never dropped.
Especially as a certain Italian made his way into the bar with his trademark smile.
He snuck his way behind the two brothers, sending me a wink as he did so. The best friend, and lackey of the MacManus brothers. His constant flirting and jokes made him a shoe-in into my list of favorite people. His only honest downfall being his affiliation with the Italian Mafia, the Yakavettas. But that didn't stop him from being a great guy and friend.
"Hey! Fuck-Ass, get me some beer!"
David Della Rocco
The response was immediate.
I had to duck to the side as Doc threw his dirty towel at the laughing boys.
I reached to fill another glass of Guinness and a shot of Whiskey as Murphy pulled Rocco into a backwards embrace, Connor slapping a hand onto the Italian's back. There were greetings all around as he wedged himself into the seat between the two Irish brothers.
Placing the drinks on the bar, I leaned forward carefully as Rocco reached over and kissed my cheek in greeting.
"A rose among the shit storm of ugly Irishmen," Rocco called out, wincing in good humor as five sets of hands smacked him in various ways. Another round of laughter surrounded them.
It was almost two in the morning and the place was almost empty. Now occupying the stools of the bar were my six favorite customers with Doc and I remaining behind the bar. Most everyone was gone and closing time was about to come. I dreaded leaving the safety of the bar because I was pretty sure I would cry at the sight of all the trash and bottles strewn around the place. But I would try and clean up a little before Doc caught me and chased me out the door with a broom. He didn't like having me wait up and clean so late in the night, even giving the MacManus brothers a firm talking that they were to walk me home.
Which really wouldn't have mattered either way.
We all walked to the same residence, me living next door.
And let me tell you, those walls were anything but solid. I practically lived with them, sometimes having conversations through the walls. It was quite hilarious the first time I visited them, the door had no locks and could be knocked open with a breath. Whereas my door had two locks on them aside from the standard knob lock, on insistence by the brothers.
Seriously, I almost freaked out when I couldn't get into my place. I had to camp at their place until the brothers came home. And to their amusement, and my chagrin (and later thankfulness) they informed me they had installed two locks while I was out grocery shopping. Without telling me.
What the fuck.
I made sure to punch them both in the shoulder for that. And hugs.
They were really too sweet.
I pretty much gave away my rights to privacy the moment I decided to live there.
I was nursing my own pint of beer, sitting on a stool as Doc sent me a sad glance.
Oh. He was going to tell them. Suddenly I didn't feel quite as happy, giving him my own assuring smile.
"A-alright, alright. Listen here boys. I got some very bad news," Doc started, leaning against the bar with his arms, "I-I'm gonna have to close down the b-b-bar-FUCK..ASS. And the Russians aren't lettin' me renew my lease."
Seeing the bleary, confused looks on the boys faces, I took a large gulp from my beer. Their reactions were identical to my own, except I might have been much more angry. And threatening to castrate the Russians. Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly the same.
The boys looked towards me in confirmation.
"The Russians are putting buildings up on the street, fucking told us a week ago. Assholes didn't even give us an earlier heads up. Almost cut their nose off with my butterknife," I mumbled, propping my face on my palm as my elbow rested against the hardwood surface. My anger problem seemed to amuse them the slightest as they chuckled at my disgruntled face.
Connor's hand rested on my propped arm, his thumb rubbing my skin, distracting the hell out of me.
"Aye, we're pretty sure you'd take down tha whole mob with your butter knife if ye' wanted to lass," Connor supplied soothingly, having to snatch his hand away laughing with the others as I made a chopping motion at his wrist.
"Woman's wrath, Connor, never forget," I threatened, snatching a drink out of his cup, finding that my glass was empty.
"Yeah Con, t'day's just a day where women are just throwing punches at ya," Murphy pipped in with a drunken grin.
"For fuck's sake! That was not a woman, I tell ya!"
"Con-man, you're not gonna get laid like that," Rocco joked, rubbing salt onto the wound before turning to Doc, "Let me talk to my boss, maybe he can do something-"
He was cut off as everyone, including myself groaned in protest.
"The fuck your boss gonna do, man?" Connor glared at the Italian as Murphy took a half-hearted slug to Rocco's head.
I doubted Yakavetta gave a flying fuck about this Irish bar.
"Now, now. Listen fellas, I don't want anyone ta know," Doc pointed at the curly-haired Joe in emphasis, "So you keep your traps shut! Y'know what they say, people in glass houses sh-sh-sink ships!"
And there went the tension. I could barely keep from bursting out laughing with the rest of the guys. Doc really had a way with words, nothing beat his sayings.
"Doc, I gotta buy you like a proverb book of something," Rocco laughed in between his words, "This mix and match shits gotta go."
"What?"
"Come on guys, if it ain't broke, join 'em," I recited from memory with a cheeky smile, earning nudge in the arm from Doc and laughter from the others.
"Well, a penny saved is worth two in a bush, isn't it?" Connor joined, waving his cigarette with a half-serious look.
"And, and," Murphy tapped against the bar, leaning further onto it, "Don't cross the road...if you can't get out the kitchen."
By now, they were all in stitches as they buried themselves into the drinks and surface of the bar to stifle their laughs. My forehead landed on Connor's outstretched arm, as I tried to smooth out my aching stomach. Thanking the Lord for the man that was Doc.
The door knocking back into the frame alerted me of newcomers but it was the groans and tensing of Connor's arm that had me looking up. Seeing the familiar burly men make their way towards us, I sat up in my stool, reaching out to hold onto Connor's arm tightly.
I missed the look Connor and Murphy shot me, finding myself too busy staring at the Russian soldier. The patrons of the bar all turned to face the newcomers, Connor only being able to turn half way in his stool due to my hold on his forearm.
Doc seemed to share my sentiments as he froze to stare at the Russians in fear and trepidation.
"I am Ivan Chekov, and you will be closing now," The largest of the three informed as he worked to pull off his leather gloves. I could barely hold in my snort, this was the same three that came a week ago to kindly tell them to fuck off. I let my hand slide off as the guys moved to stand off their stools. I was surrounded by drunken Irishmen, there was only one way that this night would end.
"Chekov," Murphy quirked an eyebrow at the taller man, his eyes glinting in mirth as he reached out to hold Rocco around the shoulders, "Well, this here's McCoy. We find a Spock, we've got us an away team."
The humor seemed lost to the three Russians, as they brushed aside Murphy's joke.
"Me in no mood for discussion. You, and you and the girl, stay," Ivan motioned towards Doc and myself with a glare, "The rest of you, go now."
"Well, me in no mood for discussion either. So-" I cut myself off from my Russian rant as Doc dropped a heavy hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly.
"Why don't you make like a tree, and get the fuck out of here!"
I had to smile at that as the locals groaned at Doc's blunder.
I caught Murphy's eye as he and his brother reached back for their Guinness glasses. I took in his small smirk as he turned back towards the Russians. Looking back, I barely noticed that Connor, Rocco, and Murphy had moved to block me from the Russian's view. I pursed my lips to keep from smiling.
"Listen fellas, Y'know he's got 'til this week's end. Ya don't have ta be hard asses, do ya?" Connor, the ever peace-keeper.
From all that was happening, I had to admit, the Russians knew how to keep a poker face.
"It's St. Patty's Day, everyone's Irish tonight. Why don't you just pull up a stool and have a drink with us?" The cigarette hung precariously on his lips as Murphy motioned towards the bar.
Then the glasses went flying. Ivan jerked forward, slamming the glasses out of the brother's hands and sending them smashing on the floor. For a big guy, he really knew how to move quickly.
But the glasses.
"Really? Did you have to do that?" I griped out, drawing Ivan's attention.
"This is no game woman! If they won't go, we will make them go."
Everyone shared an uneasy look with one another.