Why does this feel so right?

God above, how Murphy had asked himself that day after day, watching Connor's every move. A Russian could gouge out Murphy's eyes and he still could draw a portrait of Connor perfectly, recreating every detail down to the last freckle, and it happened to be the freckle that only Murphy knew about.

Connor didn't feel the same way. Oh, how it bothered Murphy. He would lie back in bed and watch as his other half slept, watch how the sheets moved with each breath Connor took, how his eyebrows would furrow, pulling his beautiful face into a frown.

And then there were the nightmares. Connor would twitch, toss, turn, groan, call out for Murphy, his arm vainly reaching for something which he thought was his twin. Murphy would be by Connor's side in an instant, caressing the back of his head, his temple, his cheeks, running his thumb across Connor's skin and praying that he would go calm.

'Tis not a sin, if I don' act upon it!

Yeah, that counter always seemed to work, as Murphy would gently press his lips to Connor's forehead, kissing down over the bridge of Connor's nose, his eyes, to his cheeks. And he always stopped there. There wasn't a fear of Connor waking up to his brother's lips against his own. The fear was that he would ruin their "first kiss" moment, if the first kiss moment ever did come.

Oh, how it bothered Murphy.

It seemed to bother others, too. People were starting to notice the slight changes in Murphy, the people he was around the most: Doc, the boys in the bar, Da, the priest.

He had confessed many times, telling the priest over and over that he had...feelings for his brother. When the priest would cough to clear his throat and shuffle back and forth on the other side of the mesh screen, that had since been fixed after Connor had yanked Rocco's head through it so long ago, Murphy knew he was in for it.

"What do you mean my son?"

"...Feelin's, Father. Um..."

Murphy would choke up, try to skip the topic, and the priest would lasso Murphy, drag him right back to the question.

And Connor had taken a notice to Murphy's change, long before anyone else. Of course Connor had taken a notice; Murphy would have been insulted if he hadn't. The changes were small, things Murphy himself didn't even pay heed to: He was putting a different shoe on first, he didn't drink his coffee with his right hand, he fingered his Rosary more often than normal, thick black lines developed under his eyes.

Murphy's fingers curled. Of course Connor noticed the smallest things about him; they had been together all their life. The most minute of something going wrong was going to perk Connor's interest, and it wasn't going to be long before he began to question Murphy about it.

And fer it ta be such an awful sin, it would sure be awful easy to commit...

Murphy heaved a sigh one night, watching his brother sleep.

"Murph?"

Or so he thought.

"Murph, ya awake?"

A couple moments of silence passed. Murphy weighed the thoughts of responding or just pretending to be asleep. After a few more moments of silence and weighing, just pretending to be asleep seemed, to Murphy, the best idea. He dropped his eyelids and allowed himself to sink into the mattress. He heard Connor's whisper quiet intake of breath.

"Murph?" he asked softly once more.

Murphy bit the inside of his lower lip to keep from saying anything.

"Be awake, Murph..." Connor mumbled with a tone Murphy couldn't quite place.

Murphy still thought it best to keep quiet. He didn't know why; he had never, ever, had trouble talking to his brother about anything. And yet, tonight, he just had a feeling that Connor was going to interrogate him to the ends of the earth and back again...

He heard Connor sigh quietly and lay back down on the bed; the sheets rustled as Connor snuggled into them and then he was still.

Murphy didn't dare move for another ten minutes, until he heard Connor's steady breathing. He rolled back over to his side.

Moments later, Connor began to twitch. The sound of his sheets shuffling across the mattress made Murphy turn his head slightly to the left to see what was happening. Connor groaned something about Murphy missing, and his hand slowly rose up to reach for his brother.

"Murph?" he mumbled.

Murphy rolled out of bed and clambered over to his brother. He took his out stretched hand and repeated his normal process of touching and kissing his twin's face to calm him. Murphy pulled back slightly, stroking his brother's cheek and noticed that he was sleeping with his eyes open. That was st-

Murphy released Connor's hand and fell backwards from the shock. Only split seconds after doing that did he realize he could have easily covered it all up by explaining the truth, that he did it to calm Connor's nightmares. But that option was out the window.

Connor was silent; he had pushed himself up onto an elbow to watch his brother. He chewed on his lower lip slowly.

"I—can explain," Murphy started, faltering.

Connor kept chewing, kept watching.

"I do that ta calm ya down-" Murphy kept stumbling over his words as if he had had one too many pints at the bar. He finally gave up on trying to speak and just stared at his brother with his mouth hanging open like an idiot.

"Is that the changes I've been seein' then?" Connor finally whispered. Murphy dropped his gaze.

"No, I dunno what ya're talkin' abou'..."

Connor studied his brother.

"Ya've been actin' diff'rent brother," he said softly.

"Like what?"

"Diff'rent, is all."

Murphy looked back up at Connor. He went on:

"I knew somethin' was up...but I didn't think this..."

"Nothin's up," Murphy mumbled sarcastically, "unless ya coun' ya bein' pussy an' whinin' like that."

The words bit into Connor and Murphy knew that; he let them hang in the air and watched as his brother looked down at his sheets.

"It were ya eyes," he muttered so quietly Murphy almost asked, "What?"

"How?" he chose instead.

"Ya looked at me diff'rently. Like ya'd lose me in the snap of a finger."

"It's not that hard, brother-"

"I don't mean in everyday life," Connor interrupted, "I mean just walking to the corner store. Or when ya sat up at nigh' to watch me sleep."

Murphy was glad the apartment was darkened as a red blush raced across his skin.

"I did it to take care o' ya-"

But Connor wouldn't have it, waving away Murphy's excuses.

"I know me own brother, Murph, and ya've been diff'rent."

Murphy swallowed hard.

"Does...anybody else know?"

Connor might have shaken his head in the dark and Murphy wouldn't have noticed. He sat up and looked at his brother.

"Why've ya been diff'rent brother? Is it true?" Connor whispered.

Murphy picked at a loose thread on his boxers.

"If ya're so smart d'ar brother, have ya not figured it out by now?"

"I want ta hear ya say it."

And it was classic cliché-ness for Murphy. The loved was going to have the lover confess when the loved really wasn't sure he was loved at all.

Murphy didn't care. He crawled back over to Connor's bedside and took his brother's face in his hands. He paused, quickly rethinking taking such drastic measures.

"'Tis true?" Connor whispered quietly; his breath misting over Murphy's face almost made his knees give way.

Murphy didn't say anything, simply pressed his lips to Connor's, getting his first kiss moment. He just didn't know if Connor was fully on board for it to be "their" first kiss moment.

He felt Connor's fingers snake up his chest, slowly, hesitantly. Murphy broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against his twin's.

"Ya didn' push back," he whispered breathlessly.

"I didn' want to." It came out almost in a whine.

Murphy swallowed, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips, as Connor pulled Murphy's mouth back down onto his. They leaned back together on Connor's bed, deepening the kiss. Murphy climbed up on to the bed, laying well next to his beloved brother.

Connor broke the kiss this time, tentatively kissing around Murphy's jawbone and neck.

"'Tis a sin, brother," he gasped.

"Aye, then why does it feel so right?" Connor whispered against Murphy's skin; Murphy shivered.

"'Cos it's a sin."