Title: Only Those Who Do Nothing Make No Mistakes
Author: Mickey Stone
Fandom: Boondock Saints
Pairing/character: Connor/Murphy
Rating: FRM / R
Prompt: 7. The Lovers For verve challenge on LJ
Table: Tarot - Major Arcana Tarot plus a trio
Word Count: 1,275

Notes/Warnings: Incest.

The Lovers Card: Harmony and union, choices to be made using intuition and not intellect. Difficult decisions to be made not necessarily about love. Some form of test and consideration about commitments. Abstract thought, internal harmony and union, second sight. Possibly a struggle between two paths.

Connor's stomach was in knots and his heart was in his throat, choking him as he tried to breathe. This situation was familiar, yet different at the same time. There were no burly Russians; this time it was just one man. One man with one gun. And this wouldn't have been a problem for Connor; John Cappio was a nasty piece of work, wanted for embezzling thousands of dollars and suspected of murdering his own daughter. Connor wouldn't have thought twice about sending the bastard to meet the Lord.

But this one man had his one gun pressed tightly to the back of Murphy's head.

And that was the problem.

"You picked the wrong man to hit, my friends," Cappio spat, eyes wild. Murphy was on his knees, gun on the floor and hands in the air. The shakes in Connor's hand were barely noticeable as he aimed his own gun at Cappio's head.

"Ye murdered yer own daughter, I'd say we got tha right man." Connor said, voice angry but steady, which was a godsend.

"There was no evidence, no proof I did it."

"'cause you fuckin' buried it along with her body," Murphy shot back, wincing when the muzzle of the gun was pressed harder into his scalp.

"Shut the fuck up!" Cappio growled, eyes flicking quickly between the top of Murphy's head and Connor before settling back on Connor.

"Not denyin' it are ye?" He said, "'cause you don't need to. Don't matter that there was no evidence, ye still killed her, didn't ye?"

Cappio sneered, "She was going to ruin everything, of course I killed her!"

"Choosin' yer life in the criminal underworld over yer own flesh and blood," Connor growled, "Tha' is tha reason we kill the likes of you."

"But you're not gonna kill me, are you?" The man said, sneer turning to a smirk. "I got your brother."

He was right. Connor's eyes flicked quickly down to his twin and then back up again, his aim never wavering. Cappio had Murphy. He was at an advantage. Fuck. Cappio seemed to know what was running through his mind, because his smirk widened and he turned cocky.

"Pointing that gun at me is pointless, Irishman," he said with a mocking laugh, "I don't think you're willing to risk your brother's life."

Connor didn't move.

"Flesh and blood makes you weak!" He spat cruelly, "You would have killed me by now if you were man enough."

"Just fuckin' shoot 'im, Con!"

"Murphy!" Connor barked.

"Go on, Connor!" John Cappio mocked, "Shoot me."

Connor McManus was faced with a choice. He could shoot John Cappio and run the risk of getting Murphy killed in the crossfire, or he could drop the gun and they could both be killed. He looked down at his twin, eyes caught and held by deep brown pools. Connor didn't need to be psychic to know what Murphy was thinking. The connection between them was inexplicable; they only needed to share a look to know what the other was thinking.

'Kill tha bastard, Con. I'll be fine'

'I can't risk it, Murph.'

But in the end it wasn't his decision. The lighter haired twin looked back up into the smirking face of John Cappio. A spark of victory flashed across black eyes as he started to lower his gun, so sure that he'd won. But his victory didn't last for long. The baseball bat seemingly came out of nowhere, connecting soundly with the side of Cappio's head. The man fell instantly, gun clattering to the floor before his body hit. Murphy scrambled away and the bat swung again and again, the sick sound of flesh and bone breaking under the hard wood coupled with aggressive grunts and short screams.

The bat clattered to the floor along with the gun. The woman holding it was panting, staring down at the bloody mess that used to be John Cappio, although if the twins were honest, she didn't look much better. Ratted blond hair hung around her face, some strands stuck to the blood that ran down the side of her head. Her clothes were torn and dark bruises were starting to appear on her bare arms.

"Miss?"

Wild blue eyes fixed on them, only just realising that they were still in the room. Other than that she didn't move.

"Miss?" Connor tried again.

"He killed my daughter."

It was her only answer and the twins didn't need any more explanation.

"You two should go," she said, looking back to the body, "I...I'll clean this up."

"Are ye sure?" Murphy asked, stepping forward slightly.

Her eyes were haunted as she replied, "I learned more than I ever needed to know about hiding bodies married to this scumbag."

They nodded and turned to leave, collecting their guns from the floor before walking out. Connor put a hand on Murphy's arm as they walked through the door, but his twin just shook him off, glaring at him as they passed through the house. Connor swallowed but didn't say anything.

The walk back to the motel was frosty and tense, neither of them speaking until they got back to the room. Connor could feel how angry Murphy was, and that only heightened his own emotions. Why the fuck was he angry at him? What the hell did he do?

"Wha' tha fuck was tha'?!" Murphy burst out as soon as the door closed. Connor met his brother's glare with his own, shrugging out of his black pea-coat.

"Fuck's sake, Murph!"

"Ye had a perfect shot!" His dark-haired twin shot back, throwing off his coat angrilly, "I told ye ta fuckin' shoot him!"

"Are ye missin' tha part where he was pointin' a gun to tha back of ye head?!"

"Fuck you!" Murphy spat, "I woulda been fine! He wouldn'ta touched me!"

"Ye don't know tha fer sure!"

"A perfect fuckin' shot!" Murphy repeated, stepping forward, "An' ye were just gonna give up!"

"I wasn't willing ta risk you-"

"Why!?"

"Because I'd rather die with ya than live without ya!" Connor roared, eyes blazing holes into his brother.

There was a moment of silence. Hard eyes were locked in fiery glares and nostrils flared with their heavy breathing. He couldn't believe Murphy was being this fuckin' stupid over it, couldn't believe that his twin didn't understand why he couldn't take the risk, couldn't shoot.

Then his back hit the wall. Teeth sank harshly into his lip, tongue pushed brutally into his mouth, hands wandering and pulling at clothes roughly. Moans and wet pants filled the air as they rocked against each other; skin sliding, mouths clinging and cursing and praying.

Connor understood.

It was in the way Murphy kissed him, all hot and desperate and demanding. It was in the way his short nails bit roughly into his skin when he pulled them towards the bed, in the way his fingers trembled as they stretched him, in the way he thrust into him, hard and deep and fast. It was there, in his foreign whispered words of love and pleasure and need.

Connor understood.

Murphy was just as scared as he was.

They broke at the same time, cursing and shaking against each other. Connor's arms tightened around his twin's back as he collapsed on his chest, face automatically buried in his neck.

"Fuck, Con," he panted, "Tha' was too close."

"Aye, I know," Connor replied. He turned and kissed his head, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of his brother as they drifted. An arm curled around his shoulder.

"We're ok."

Connor nodded.

Whatever happened tomorrow, they knew they'd be just fine.

Reviews make me so very happy :) Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top? ;P