I plan on doing one chapter per episode of TWD, each one depicting the MacManus Twins being incorporated into and becoming part of the group. I warn you now this isn't going to be a G-rated story. I'm talking steamy dreams, over-touchy but not incestuous situations, blatant flirting with lots of people, angles of non-con you wouldn't believe, but nothing involving the dead. Not really.

Give it a chance, pretty please? At least follow it and stop in once in a while to see if it's any good?

The rain always brought out the worst in their little hovel. He loved their place, there was no doubt, but every crack in the ceiling trickled water and it was getting a bit depressing. The sound was nice, though. It was a lovely echo off the tile and cement, creating a soundtrack to his evening.

Connor was alone on his bed, legs stretched out in front of him while his back was braced on the wall behind him. He stared off at nothing in particular, lost in his thoughts and the sounds of the storm outside. His eyes traced the far wall idly, counting off the minutes in time with the cracked clock on the floor. He shook another cigarette out of his pack and snatched his lighter off the sheet, flicking it open and aflame in seconds. He sucked in the heat and filled his lungs with smoke, enjoying the sweet rush of nicotine before letting it cloud the air.

Three hours. It had been exactly three hours and seventeen minutes since Murphy had left on his own. He'd spouted off something stupid about getting drunk and forgetting his bloody dream before dashing out, throwing on his coat halfway out the door without so much as a look back. Murphy had been pacing and huffing for two days, something dark on his mind that he wouldn't share. He claimed it was their new job, the gunfire, the risk – but he knew it wasn't true. They both enjoyed it, maybe more than they should've, so it had to be something else.

They knew each other like no one else. They fit into every moment, niche, and scene in each other's lives. Two halves of the same soul, split only by body and a minute of time. Together in the crib, on the playground, in the classroom, at work...in life. Why would Murphy keep something from him? They shared everything but a bed, why would he want to keep a fear from him?

There was a faint noise outside. On instinct he grabbed his gun, keeping the cigarette balanced between his lips as he braced his weapon hand on the thick of his wrist. It would be a perfect, steady shot. The door flew open to reveal the soaked form of his twin, dark hair plastered to his head and jeans twice as dark as before.

He looked pathetic.

Murphy's eyes widened when he saw the gun, flinching so hard his back hit the door. Connor lowered it immediately, motioning him inside with a flick of his fingers. Murphy obeyed and shut the door behind him, sloshing like a wet rat. He kicked off his boots and peeled off his socks, working on his jacket and shirt next. The beads of his rosary stuck to his damp skin, the cross clinging to his smooth stomach.

Connor shoved his gun back between the mattresses, "Jesus wept, ya scared me."

There was a red tint to his dark eyes, the sway in his first few steps revealing his state.

"Oi! Be careful," Connor called from the bed, taking the fag from his mouth, "You're gonna break 'yer neck flailin' about like that."

"Shut 'yer gob," Murphy slurred, passing his own bed in favor of his brother's.

"Hey, hey, hey now!" Connor barked as the other plopped down on his bed, "You're wetter than Thursday's angel. Shove off!"

But one look from his brother's glazed eyes and he gave in, huffing roughly.

Murphy lazily crawled closer, throwing his head into his brother's lap and curling around him like a cat. Connor couldn't stay mad for one second when his brother was showing a rare vulnerability, sighing softly and just barely nuzzling into his thigh. It was a silent cry for comfort and he wasn't going to deny him. With a light touch he put his fingers in his brother's dark hair, almost teasing it.

"Didya have a good time?" Connor asked, getting a little grunt in response. He tilted his brother's head back to get a look at his face, thumb tucked under his chin.

"Didya find some sour tail or something?"

"Nothin' but that nasty Carolyn, had 'er hands all over me," Murphy scoffed.

The blonde rested his head back against the wall, taking another hit, "Sad to see a pretty girl like that throwin' herself everywhere."

"Try to say that when she's got her bitter breath in your face."

Connor stroked his hair a little harder, glad to have his brother home and safe. His brother was a dirty kind of handsome, smooth hips with as sharp jaw line. Dark, deep eyes that the girls loved so much along with a strong chest that mirrored his own.

"You hungry, Brother?" Connor asked, lowering the cigarette to hover in front of Murphy's face. His brother parted his lips and took the end between them, sucking in a full breath of sweet smoke. Connor smiled gently, letting him take as much as he wanted.

"Nah," Murphy replied, one hand curled under his brother's leg while the other trailed up his bare arm.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Gonna waste away on me," Connor cursed, taking the cigarette back to puff hard, "Somethin' on your mind, Murph?"

The darker haired man shrugged against his brother's knee, "Nothin' to talk about."

Connor hummed in agreement, "Aye. Your head's a bit too thick to have much in it anyway."

Murphy punched his leg to get a yelp from the blonde, "Shut it, alright?"

"Fine, fine, keep your secrets," Connor handed over the cigarette only to get a big puff of smoke in his face, "Ungrateful brat."

xXx

The Next Night

Connor took the windowsill across the room as a seat, legs stretched out along the white plaster siding. He was pressed from shoulder to knee against the cool glass of the window, the rain still going strong from yesterday. Four burnt stubs lay in a pile of ash of the floor beside him, the fifth wedged between his lips. He looked out into the slick alley for signs of life but found none. It was a quiet night in the neighborhood. He yawned around the stub, acrid billows of white pouring over his lips as he did.

Murphy's nightmares were starting to leak into his own. He thanked God for his insomnia. He'd rather stay up on his own merit, smoke and ponder, than be forced awake multiple times a night by horrific bloody images. His poor brother was tossing and turning right now, blanket kicked to the floor. Sweat beaded along the curve of his back, soaked into his hair, and stung his clenched eyes.

"Murph," Connor sighed, heart aching.

His brother started to scream, thrashing so hard he knocked his pillow a few feet away and the stand beside the bed over. The cigarette dropped to the floor, sparks flying up to light the way for bare feet to race across their flat.

Connor launched himself in bed with his brother, grabbing his arms and pushing them down onto the mattress, "Murphy! Murph, stop! It's me! It's Connor, sweetheart, it's your brother."

Murphy was releasing strangled sobs that broke his brother's heart, clawing at thin air as if to fight something off. Connor dared to release his wrists in favor of cupping his face, begging him over and over to just wake up. He winced as Murphy's nails raked over his neck and across his shoulders like he was the attacker.

Murphy's eyes snapped open, searching frantically for the creatures from his nightmares.

"Sweetheart," Connor cooed, running his thumbs across his brother's sharp cheekbones, "Murph, it's alright. I'm here."

"Conn?" his voice was shaking and his face was wet with tears, confusion written all over his face.

"Yeah, I'm here," Connor assured him, keeping their gazes locked, "Come back to me."

"Jesus," Murphy was trying not to sob, clawing fingers softening to a desperate cling.

"What was in there?" the blonde twin inquired, trying not to push, "What's plaguin' ya, brother mine?"

"Nasty things with teeth and they smelled like...like death," Murphy gasped, trying to sit up but the other stopped him, "I-I can't do this, I can't breathe or sleep or eat without thosethings screwing with my head."

"Maybe we should call Da," Connor offered, keeping his voice gentle, "Maybe it's some kind 'a-"

"If you say demon, I'm going to smack you so hard you'll taste stars," Murphy rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in the old sheet covering the mattress. Connor didn't move away but he did lay on his side, stroking his fingers through his brother's lengthening dark tresses and along his shoulders. The touch was soothing. Murphy soon relaxed beneath his brother's fingers, tucking his arms up beneath his head as a make-shift pillow.

"Alright, have it your way," Connor pecked a kiss on the back of the man's neck, getting a little smile and snuff (it was a ticklish spot of his), "I won't call Da."

They spent a few more quiet minutes like this, listening to the rain and enjoying each other.

"Maybe..." Connor wet his lips, digging his fingers in a little harder to work his brother's stiff muscles, "Maybe we should take a break. Go on little huntin' trip, jus' you and me. No more of this Saint stuff for a while. Somewhere calmin' and warm."

Murphy made a distressed sound, "Yer not wantin' to go back home, are you?"

"No, nothin' as drastic as that," Connor promised, scratching the itch he knew his brother had just along his shoulder, "Maybe somewhere with a dry heat that brings out the deer, huh? I can finally get good with a bow an' arrow."

"Better you than me" Murphy chuckled, eyes falling shut. He knew his brother was the one with a brain for planning, half-witted and stolen as they were – they still worked. The times they hunted in Ireland it was his brother who brought home the rabbits, fingers identical to his own only more deft at tying up snares. He always fumbled with them and made them wrong, a bow more foreign in his hands than an accordion. Without a day of training in him, Connor picked up a bow and shot an arrow across the field. They found the tip stuck in a tree, dead in the middle and set sturdy.

Connor dropped down to lay on the bed beside him, one hand still splayed across his twin's back, "It was just a thought. Never mind now, go to sleep. I'll stay up and-"

"No," Murphy turned over on his side, bringing them face to face, "Maybe a huntin' trip is what I need. Where were you thinkin'?"

Connor wrinkled up his nose, putting some real thought into it. Murphy mocked his face, getting them both to laugh.

"I know," Connor sat up, looking pleased with himself, "How about Georgia?"

Here's how this story is going to go. I'm just going to write stuff, and you're just going to take it as true. Anything I change/delete/add is on purpose. There's going to be some outstanding changes and wild concepts. Let's just...go with it and enjoy the story.

Review in love and joy?