A/N: I considered explaining the events leading up to this story. But I realized that you, dear reader, are interested in an Oz/Boondock Saints crossover. You ignored its copious warnings, disregarded what the Surgeon General would probably say if presented with this dangerously potent crack. You are a do-it-so-I-can-say-I-did kind of person, a seeker of cheap laughs. It is in your honor that I decided to just let the backstory remain a mystery. Context often ruins comedy.
I'm just gonna come out and say it: reviews make me write more and update faster. I know you're a pretty cool guy, so you won't post any flames about this truth, and for that I thank you. Enjoy.
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Those fucking babies needed to cry more, or make some kind of sound, seriously. McManus kept checking every five minutes to make sure they weren't dead, but no, they just stared up at him, with no readable emotion on their faces.
McManus twisted open another mini vodka bottle, throwing it back in one sip, tossing it aside, and just wallowed in the utter silence and serenity of the house. It was driving him to the ragged brink of insanity. He was afraid to turn on the TV, because the goddamn kids could go and keel over at any moment, at least it seemed like that, and McManus was absolutely positive that he could not take seeing them dead. The world would end. He knew it. The very thought made him want to cry, so he opened another vodka bottle and went to check on those selfish brats.
He gazed into their cribs, which were vertically parallel, so he could watch both babies at the same time. They both turned their heads and looked at him, with their big, dark eyes. Their eyes were exactly the same, McManus noticed. He looked into them, like corridors into prehistory despite the fact that they were brand new to this world. They possessed an innocence, a poignancy, unjudgmental yet knowing all. Somehow everything could be resolved and absolved within those eyes.
It was at that moment that McManus realized how shitfaced he really was; and how very, very tired. He polished off his current bottle and tossed it out the door, listening to make sure it didn't break, though he probably wouldn't do anything about it anyway if it did. He unrolled the sleeping bag and wriggled himself in.
As McManus drifted toward unconsciousness, in that limbo state between awake and sleep, he couldn't help but think, a very dangerous thing to do at this moment in his life. Everything was just…gone. And he didn't know where it went. He would dive down any sewer to retrieve everything he had lost. Where did it all fucking go.
And then he looked up at Connor and Murphy, and realized that it all went right up his ass. McManus sighed, and turned on his side so he'd have a lesser chance on choking on his vomit while asleep.
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"Oh, God. Oh, Jesus. Fuck. Fuck." McManus had to work considerably to say that as quietly as he could. His office was not exactly soundproof, and it would be rather awkward to be caught practicing sodomy with Officer Murphy in a prison, hilarious irony be damned.
"Could you stop using the Lord's name is vain?" Murphy groaned as he thrust, "That's just adding insult to injury."
"You're a fine one to complain about injury," McManus grunted, "You're topping."
Murphy laughed, a really creepy, throaty laugh. It kinda ruined the moment, but McManus didn't let on.
A short while later, the two men were plastering their clothes on their bodies, occasionally making eye contact and weakly chuckling. Such is the aftermath of workplace quickies; at least, McManus assumed so.
Murphy finished getting dressed first, and walked to the door. He paused portentously, but opened the door and left after a moment. McManus was mildly disappointed; he was hoping Murphy would offer some kind of conclusion. "All in all, you weren't half bad. In conclusion, what just happened doesn't leave this room. To summarize, we had sex."
McManus was finally dressed. He sprayed the office with Febreze to mask the smell of sex, akin to Florida air in the summer except saltier, and then sprayed it on himself, to mask the smell of cheap lube. He pulled up the blinds of his office window, to gaze across his kingdom. Ah, someone had been stabbed and was now hemorrhaging on the concrete floor.
McManus took a sip of his coffee, before realizing, Oh shit! Someone's been stabbed!
He took off out the door, throwing the coffee behind him. It was utter chaos, guards running around, trying to keep the other prisoners calm, or at the very least out of the way, while a couple other guards stared at the victim, obviously unsure of what to do in this situation. To be honest, McManus didn't really know what to do either. Normally he'd ask what happened, punctuated by curse words, but he really wanted to avoid the questions of where the fuck was he, what the fuck was he doing, etc, for as long as possible. So he just kinda stood there, watching, trying to blend into the wall.
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"The Warden wants to see you."
McManus was half-expecting Leo's secretary to add, "May God have mercy on your soul" to the end of that statement in a phone call to his office the day after the stabbing. He couldn't stop chanting in his head, Dead man walking! Dead man walking!
He finally reached the office. The secretary looked at him as if she was trying to decide what exact words she would use for the press release of Tim McManus' tragic accident, inadvertently stabbing himself through the lung with a ballpoint pen.
After sitting in the waiting room for 10 minutes or so, twiddling his thumbs and listening to the secretary tap at her keyboard with acrylic nails, McManus was finally summoned to the office.
Leo was looking out his window, but turned in his rolling chair upon hearing McManus enter the room. The whole spectacle was obviously orchestrated.
"Ah, McManus. Just the piece of shit I was hoping to see."
"Hi, Leo,"
"Where the fuck were you? You didn't get down there until five minutes had passed since the stabbing occurred! You know that time is a major factor in a fucking stabbing situation! Jesus fucking Christ on a goddamn cracker, McManus!"
The aforementioned didn't reply. He knew he wasn't to speak until spoken to.
"Well? What happened?" Leo said, leaning back in his chair, in an intimidatingly calm voice.
McManus gulped. This was gonna have to be some Oscar-worthy acting.
"Look, I…I'm sorry. I fell asleep. Things have been pretty calm lately, and…I don't know. It's been stressful, with Eleanor working here now, and I haven't been sleeping very well, and…I mean, there's no excuse, and it'll never happen again, but that's why." McManus coughed to accentuate the illusion of exhaustion.
Leo sighed.
"You've done a fine job here at Oz, McManus. This may have been a colossal mistake, but it was just that; a mistake. As long as you don't fuck up in the near future, I can see us moving beyond this with no bloodshed. Poor choice of words, but you get my point."
"Yes, I do."
There was a silence that was probably much shorter than it seemed.
"Can I, uh, go?" McManus asked nervously, "I'd hate to miss the next stabbing."
Leo chuckled.
"Yeah, get out of here."
McManus smiled and dashed out of there as slowly as was polite. The secretary looked shocked upon seeing him emerge from the room with no wounds, and McManus could hear her frantically instant message someone once he was through the door. He sighed.