Title: All You Had To Do Was Ask.
Characters: Connor/Murphy
Summary: Murph tends to get a wee bit annoying when he hasn't been out in a while.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Troy Duffy gets the credit for the characters.
Connor couldn't stand it when his brother got like this. He was like a toy cap-gun in the hands of a five year old; unrelenting and loud.
It wasn't that Murph spoke louder, he just did everything with such speed, and clumsiness that everything he touched sounded like a cymbal crash. Not to mention the fact that if he actually DID sit down, his limbs would either bounce, tap or fidget to the point of insanity.
"Murph would ya quit that shite before I knock ya a good one?" Connor muttered as he watched his twin's leg bounce up and down mercilessly as he ate dinner, his brother barely paying attention as he flicked his lighter and snapped it shut with his free hand, seeming to take a great interest in the motion.
Connor inhaled deeply before blowing out a puff of air, trying his best to keep his temper at a low simmer. It had, after all, been days since either of them had seen a bar, pub, or any semblance of a drinking establishment; their status as murderers preventing them from getting out unless they had a job to do or one of them ran out of smokes. Even though Connor made sure they were stocked up on beer at all times, it just didn't feel the same when it was just the two of them at a table trying to see who could finish their six pack first.
"MURPHY MCMANUS, quit it right this instant, or I'll beat the livin' shite out of you." Connor finally bellowed after waiting another five minutes for his brother to stop moving and getting no result.
Murphy gazed up at him, surprise crossing his face as though he had only heard him the last time he was scolded and not the eighteen times before that. Frowning sheepishly, Murph lowered his gaze to his food and slowly ceased all movement but his leg, which still kept up the rhythm that Connor couldn't hear.
Growling and loosing all sense of his temper, Connor lunged at Murphy, knocking him to the floor and beginning to wrestle with his brother in much the same way they had done when they were kids. If he couldn't get him to stop by asking, he was going to make him stop unwillingly.
"What the fuck, Con?" Murphy cried out as his brother tackled his midsection, Murph's attempt to get up thwarted by his brother's force.
"I know—you haven't been let out of the—dog house—in a few days—but come the fuck on man!! You—gotta quit with yer—ow!—fidgeting!" Connor explained as he rolled around on the floor, trying to gain dominance over his brother who took every opportunity to kick him that he could; with his legs wrapped around Connor's torso, it was quite the easy feat.
"All you had—to do was—oof!—ask, you—fuckin' eejit!!" Murphy shot back, catching his brother's right hook directly in the cheek and knowing that it would bruise black by the next morning.
"I DID, ya cunt bastard!! Eighteen fuckin' times!! And ye acted like fuckin' Pa when he refuses to put his hearin' aid in!!" Connor answered, grabbing his brother by the ankles as he tried to crawl away and sliding him back under him, Murph putting his hands around Connor's wrists instinctively to keep the blows from coming.
After about five more minutes of both twins struggling for dominance, they both gave up, parting and panting like boxers who'd gone ten rounds. Their eyes never left the other's, both staring hard as if trying to read their twin's thoughts.
"It's all you can drink Guinness night at McCullough's…" Murphy said after what seemed like an endless silence.
Connor couldn't help but smirk crookedly at his brother before standing and helping Murphy up, both men grabbing their coats and rosaries before heading for the door.