I watched the film again last night, and a thought came to me during the movie. You can see Norman's "Norman" tattoo on several occasions in the movie and it just made me think, "Who is Norman?"...

Warning: Implied slash/twincest. One Shot.

As Connor sat opposite his brother on the mattress, cleaning their guns, he did a double take. Murphy had a bandage just covering his heart. Connor frowned, remembering the last hit they did and not one of them had been hurt in anyway. The hit previous to that he had been shot in the leg by the crazy pensioner, and Murphy had been hit in the top of his arm. Had the bullet grazed his chest too, but he missed it? There was no way he missed it, he never missed anything Murphy did.

Apart from this.

"Ye hurtin', Murph?" Connor asked picking up another piece of his gun.

"Hmm?" Murphy replied absently, not looking up, too engrossed in his gun. "What?" He asked, looking up when he noticed Connor had not responded.

"Tha bandage." Connor pointed and put down all pieces to his gun, gripping the edge of the mattress. Had somebody hurt him? Had Murphy not told him, why hadn't he been there to save him in the first place?

"Oh." Murphy looked down at his bandage. He had meant to cover that up, at least until it healed. "It's..." He couldn't say without giving the game away, or being so cryptic that Connor would probably get upset or angry. "...nothing."

"Nothing?" Connor breathed, leaning forward and inspecting the bandage further. Little spots of blood were appearing around the outside. He reached out a hand to touch it, but it got slapped away. As Connor visibly recoiled from the hit, Murphy looked down, forehead in his hand. "S'nothin', Conn, really." He added.

"Fuck it is!" Connor shouted, this time too quick for Murphy to re-act and tore away the bandage. Murphy jumped slightly as the tape tore away abruptly from his skin.

NORMAN

The cursive letters, stark black against Murphy's pale chest seemed to jump down Connor's throat, and made him feel sick. For a few seconds there was complete silence.

"Tha fuck is Norman?" Connor spat at Murphy. Murphy opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Oh Connor, why couldn't you just wait? Wait till I was ready to show you, wait till it healed? He then berated himself for not wearing a t-shirt to cover it up.

"Tha fuck is Norman!" Connor yelled louder, lunging at Murphy, grabbing both his wrists and pinning him to the bed. Connor was near enough kneeling on Murphy's thighs and there was no way he could wriggle out of this one.

"Connor! Calm down! Fuckin' hell , Conn, calm the fuck down!" Murphy yelled in the middle of Connor's tirade against him, shaking him with cries of, "Who tha fuck is Norman?", "Ye bastard." and "Ye're my brother!"

The yelling stopped as Connor landed a punch to the tattoo. Murphy cried out in pain at the fresh sore being irritated.

"Tell me." Connor snarled, digging fingernails into Murphy's wrists.

"Ye! It's ye you fucking eejit, ye're Norman!"

"The fuck ye talkin' 'bout?" His grip lessened slightly as Murphy's eyes began to well up, through frustration. He was so frustrated with himself, that he had to tell Connor like this, through violence and pain rather than as a surprise and a testament to the love they shared.

"Ye're Norman. Don't ye 'member when we were babies, an' I used ta call ye 'Nor?"

"Aye." Connor nodded at the fond memory. Murphy had speech difficulties when he was younger, and couldn't pronounce Connor properly until he was six. Prior to that he used to refer to his brother as 'Nor'.

"Nor. Man." Murphy annunciated. "I'm ye Nor man. I'm yer's, Conn." Connor sat upright, releasing Murphy's wrists, as the realisation hit him; realisation of what his brother had done for him, for them. And the realisation of how he'd over reacted and hurt his brother. He traced a thumb over the slightly raised skin where he had marked himself permanently.

"I'm yer's,. Always have, an' I always will be." Murphy concluded, holding Connor's hand over his heart and tattoo.

You know what really narks me about writing BDS fics? I have red squiggly lines under almost every word, and I've lost count of the times I've right clicked and chosen "Add". Did you like it? I sure enjoyed writing it. Love, boo.