Author's Note: First of all, I'd like to say, I've had a lot of fun writing this story. I hope everyone has just as much fun reading it. This is my first fanfic, so I'd appreciate it if some of you could review it. Thanks! Also, to all you fellow Boondock Saints fans out there, I know Connor and Murphy MacManus were born in Ireland, and probably did not live in the United States until a little after this story takes place (I may be wrong though, I don't know). Also, I know that Connor and Murphy probably didn't meet Rocco until a long while after they were thirteen. I'm just improvising, at some request from my friends. After all, this is a fanfic. Please keep this in mind as you read this story. Thanks!
Before We Were Saints
Chapter 1
"Connor, wake up!"
"Uggghhh..."
Three minutes passed as Connor MacManus drifted back into the deep, paradoxical sleep he had been experiencing just moments before his mother had awoken him. Those three minutes seemed more like ten seconds to him.
"Connor! Didn't yeh hear me? Get up!" his mother continued to yell.
"Fuck," he spat to himself, stopping for a moment to make sure his mother hadn't heard his obsenity. His mother wouldn't tolerate that kind of language in the house, but as far as he knew, she didn't give a shit what words came out of who's mouth anywhere but in the house. He attempted to pull himself out of bed with one arm, proving unsuccessful, and falling back down onto the mattress. "I'm coming," he yelled in a drunken kind of way, face-down on the pillow, the blankets still covering him.
"I'm up. I'm just not ready to acknowledge it," he added to himself.
"Yeh still haven't packed yer things up fer teh'day. Come get it ta'gether," his mother yelled into the dark room.
Connor slowly flipped over so he was no longer facing the wall, but was facing his frustrated mother who was standing in the doorway of the bedroom. She flicked the switch to the hall light. "Agh." Connor shut his eyes. He wasn't used to the brightness. He looked at his mother with squinted eyes and quietly repeated, "I'm coming, Ma."
"Good. Yer brother's already up. Come meet us in the kitchen when yer good and dressed."
"Yep." His mother hesitated a moment in the doorway, watching her 13-year old son, making sure he was actually making an effort to get out of bed, then hurriedly stomped back down the hall. Connor waited until he could hear her heavy footsteps in the living room, then turned back toward the wall, pulled the blankets back over his head, and tried to get some more sleep. Moments later, his mother was back, waiting in the doorway.
"Fer Christ's sake!" she yelled. She quickly approached the bunk bed and pulled the sheets off the top bunk, revealing her curled up son, deep in sleep. Connor's mother angrily watched him for a few more moments until she noticed he was beginning to shiver. Connor uncurled for a moment, brought both of his arms into his white T-shirt, curled up again, and continued to sleep. His mother took a pillow and whacked him in the head with it. "Get up!"
Connor had had enough. Unaware that it was his mother who had assaulted him with the pillow, Connor sat straight up in bed, his eyes still closed, poked his arms back through his T-shirt, and screamed into his mother's face, "MURPHY, YEH LITTLE SHIT! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!"
His mother stood there, absolutely astonished. Connor had never spoken to her this way, let alone yelled in her face. Gently pulling the blankets out of his mother's numb hand and back onto the bed, Connor once again buried himself under them, and slurred, "And close the door when yeh leave." His mother remained, her mouth agape.
Murphy, hearing his name called (or screamed) for, appeared in the doorway, swinging back and forth on the doorjamb. "What was that? Did somebody call fer me? Ma?" He glanced at his mother, who was still staring at Connor in amazement. Murphy let go of the doorjamb and slowly and carefully approached the bed. He rested his hand on his mother's shoulder, still confused, watching his brother, and quietly asked again, "Ma?" She turned to face him, her expression unchanged.
"Get yer brother out of bed!" she snapped at Murphy, and left the room in a hurry.
"Connor," Murphy said quietly, climbing the ladder to the top bunk. "Connor, wake up. It's Murphy. Ya just cursed at Ma something fierce." His voice was an awkward mixture of seriousness and admiration.
"What?" Connor was suddenly wide awake. He pulled the blankets away from his face. "What are yeh talkin' about? I was asleep, Murph," he said to his brother in disbelief.
Murphy replied, lowering his voice, "No, I swear on my life! You said my name, then something about shit, and then I heard, 'fuck.' That's it. So I came running, and Ma looked kind of freaked out, and here we are now."
Connor's face slowly changed from disbelief to horror. "Oh my God," Connor said, his voice suddenly frantic. "That wasn't you...was it..."
"Quick, we better get outta here," Murphy warned, and jumped back down the ladder.
Connor jumped off of the top bunk, landing awkwardly on the carpet below. He grabbed some clothes out of his closet, and ran halfway down the hall and into the bathroom to get changed.
Murphy ran back into the kitchen, where he was previously eating breakfast, and quickly dumped his bowl of wet cereal into the sink, clogging the drain. "Crap," he muttered to himself, but didn't bother to clean it up.
His mother entered the kitchen. Murphy jumped, and hurried away from the sink, hoping she hadn't noticed him dumping his breakfast into the sink. His mother's face was a bit more normal compared to her numb expression he had seen in the bedroom. He eyed her carefully, searching for any signs of anger, found none, then leapt to the cushioned chair in the corner where he and Connor dropped their backpacks when they came home from school. Connor's was still there, and his books and everything else was scattered all over the high-top table a few feet away. Murphy grabbed the books and began to toss them hurriedly into Connor's backpack.
Murphy wasn't usually the type of person to help his brother when he was in trouble, but he wanted to get out of the house just as much as Connor did. He had to be quick about this. He had to think of a way to leave before his mother knew he and Connor were gone. He continued to shove his brother's books into the bookbag. In his mind, he paged through the escape options available in the house. The front door? No, too obvious. Plus, the doorknob was loose and always made noise when it was turned. The back door? No. It was a sliding door and would also make a lot of noise. Murphy suddenly wished everything in the house wasn't so defective.
Then it hit him. The dog door! Perfect! The MacManuses didn't have a dog, but when they bought their house, it was one of the available built-in features. Then another fact occurred to him. What if he or Connor got stuck? What would they tell their mother if she found he or his brother there, stuck? They'd just have to do it and hope for the best.
He wished the front door didn't have that stupid loose doorknob. Then neither of them would get stuck, and their mother wouldn't realize they had left. Too bad his mother noticed everything. Absolutely everything.
Including the cereal clogging the drain. "Fuck!"Murphy snapped to himself, hoping he could fix the problem before his mother had noticed. Unfortunately, he didn't realize how loudly he had cursed. He ran to the sink, beside his mother, and frantically stared down the drain.
His mother turned to regard him. "What did you just say?" his mother asked, her teeth clenched.
"Oh man, it's pretty far down there..." he said to himself. "Huh? What are...oh. Oh no." He suddenly realized what his mother had just asked him and how loudly he had cursed. "Um, I didn't say anything! Psh, what are yeh talking about? I didn't say a word!" he answered as cooly as he could.
"Good." His mother turned back to where she was drying the dishes. But Murphy remained, not believing that that was all his mother was going to say. He stood, and stared at her, surprised. She turned to stare back. "Yes?" With one last glance at his mother, Murphy tried to leave the room as calmly as possible, but instead he grabbed his brother's backpack, and ran frantically out of the room.
Murphy then ran into the hall and waited in front of the bathroom door for his brother. "Hurry up," he muttered nervously to himself, hopping up and down.
Suddenly, his brother emerged from the bathroom. He was dressed, but his hair was a mess. Murphy decided he wouldn't say anything. With one last glance at each other, they both jogged back down the hall.
When they reached the other end of the hall, Connor tip-toed into the kitchen, making sure his mother didn't notice him. He grabbed his lunch bag off the table, and with one last glance at his mother, tip-toed back out. Murphy was waiting for him in the doorway when he left the kitchen. Connor then grabbed his shoes from beside the steps and pulled them on. He grabbed his trumpet for band, and passed Murphy his guitar. He was just about to bound down the steps to the front door when Murphy stopped him.
"The doorknob's loose, remember?" he reminded his brother.
Connor stared past his brother for a minute then returned his gaze. "So?"
"So Ma's gonna hear us."
"Ah, good point."
Adjusting his bookbag on his back, Murphy added, "We're gonna have to use the doggy door."
"What the hell?" Connor spat quietly at his brother.
"That's the only way we can leave without Ma hearing us!" Murphy answered, getting impatient.
Connor sighed. "Okay, let's go." He tip-toed back across the living room toward the dog door. When they were finally on all fours by the narrow entrance, Connor said, half-sardonically to his brother, "After you."
Murphy gave him a suspicious glance, but Connor's serious expression told him to keep going. He shoved his backpack and guitar through the narrow opening, sucked in his breath, and began to squeeze himself through.
He was about halfway through, when, to his horror, he became stuck. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he whispered frantically.
"Calm down!" Connor quietly snapped at his brother. If he and Murphy weren't under the present circumstances, he would have been laughing. Murphy looked pretty funny right now. With his lower half still in the house, and his head and upper body outside on the back deck, he was pushing with all his strength to get free from the dog door. "Calm down, Murph," Connor repeated. "We'll get yeh through, your ass is just too big."
"Shut the fuck up," Murphy answered, and with a well aimed kick, hit Connor under the chin.
"OW! Fuck!" Connor rubbed his chin. "Okay, hold on." Connor sat with his back toward Murphy's legs. "Stop kicking, I'll get yeh out." Then he positioned his back on the bottom of Murphy's feet, and pushed himself backward with his legs.
"Ow, ow, ow, ow," Murphy rambled as Connor pushed him through the narrow opening. Suddenly, Murphy popped out of the door, and went rolling across the deck, and into a chair. "Ow!" When he looked back towards the door, to his surprise, Connor was already through with all his stuff. "How the fuck...?"
"See, Murph, when you have a small ass like me, instead of a fat one like you, yeh can do this kinda thing without any problem."
"Shut up," Murphy snapped as he stood up.
Together the two brothers carefully climbed down the wooden posts holding the deck up, ran across the patio, up the driveway, and to the bus stop.
"That was close," Murphy said to his brother as they finally reached the corner. "I swear, I thought Ma was gonna come after us and see me half stuck in the doggy door. That would be so fucking embarrassing."
"Yeah," Connor responded, playfully punching his brother on the shoulder. "And then we would have to explain ourselves. I mean, what are we supposed teh say when Ma sees you stuck in the fuckin' doggy door, late for school, might I add, kicking and flailing like a fuckin' idiot?"
"Yeah, well, I'll get you back for that 'big ass' comment at school. And it'll be a lot worse, heh heh."
"Heh heh, sure thing. I'll be on my guard, Murph."
Just then, the bus pulled up to the two boys. They waited as the doors automatically opened, and the driver watched them and motioned for them to get in. They waited for another moment, and Murphy, repeating his brother's earlier comment, said sarcastically, "After you," and motioned toward the bus.
"Ha ha, very funny," Connor said as he boarded.
Murphy followed and they took seats close to the front, across from each other. The bus driver looked up into the rear view mirror to make sure they were both sitting.
Connor, noticing the driver's hesitation, cleared his throat, and in a heavy British accent, said to the driver, "Drive on good sir."
As Murphy busted up in laughter, and Connor grinned ear to ear, the bus driver, obviously agitated, shut the double doors. Those two little shits, he thought to himself as he continued to drive. Always the center of attention.