A/N: For SaraLostInes because she expressed interest. Connor and Murphy did, too. A side piece to the Murphy/Wren and Connor/Pam arc. Takes place after 'Idir Aisling'; I suggest reading that one to understand the context of this. This is totally OFC/OFC, but with a little Murphy and Connor thrown in. Femslash. My first attempt at, too. Wren vs Pam. Enjoy!
"Hey!"
Wren turned at the familiar voice and smiled as Pam wandered onto the fifth floor landing. "Hey yourself," Wren smiled. "You're meeting Connor?"
Pam nodded. "And I suppose you're here to see Murph?"
"Yeah, but," Wren paused and gestured to the door, "I don't think they're home yet."
Pam frowned and glanced at her watch. "Really? It's after six, they're usually home by half-five."
Wren snorted. " 'Half-five'? When did we get to the UK?"
"It's my grandmother's fault," Pam explained with a shrug. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her hooded sweater and leaned against the wall on one side of the door leading to the MacManus residence.
Wren nodded and affected a similar pose on the other side of the door. "Think we should wait for them?"
"Well, they've never stood us up before – what would be the point?"
"True," Wren agreed. "Still – Murph said he'd be home by now."
"And Connor hates being late. He's always giving me a hard time," Pam admitted.
The two women contemplated the missing twins for a spell.
"I bet they ran into Rocco," Wren suddenly spoke up with a sigh.
Pam continued. "And if they ran into Roc, that could only mean one thing."
"McGuinty's," the pair of women intoned simultaneously. They broke into a fit of laughter.
"Shit," Pam snorted, "if they were off at five and it's past six now…"
"They're completely shit-faced," Wren finished. "And completely useless."
They were silent for another little while.
"Should we go meet them?" Pam asked, though she sounded like it was the last thing she wanted to do.
"Do you want to go meet them? I mean…I just saw Murph this morning."
"Connor was at my place last night," Pam admitted. "Should you and I maybe…go get a drink?"
Wren considered the offer. "I think Murphy stashed a bottle of whiskey under the kitchen sink. Connor doesn't know about it."
Pam laughed. "Just like Murphy probably doesn't know about Connor's bottle of Stoli behind the couch."
Wren smiled slyly and looked at Pam, concentrating on the messy bun the brunette had pinned her hair into. "Got a bobby pin handy?"
Pam glanced up, as if searching her hair, and then looked back at Wren, before reaching to the back of her head. "Yes," she answered slowly, pulling one from the bun. She held it out to the small blonde. "What do you have in mind?"
Wren took the pin and straightened it, and then dug into her purse and pulled out a small metal nail file. "I wasn't always a bartender," she murmured before crouching in front of the MacManus door. She fit the pin and file into the keyhole and gently began to work it back and forth.
After a minute or two, and some very choice words uttered by Wren, there was a sharp click, and Wren twisted the knob and then swung the door wide. "Stoli behind the couch? I'll meet you there in thirty seconds." She stood and handed Pam her now useless pin and headed into the flat, making a beeline for the kitchen sink.
"Do you really believe all that shit about not knowing who's older?" Pam poured another two fingers of vodka for herself and watched Wren take a swig of whiskey and contemplate.
"It's a good argument," she started slowly. "And if I were the mother of those two, I'd find every way to stick it to them. What's her reasoning?"
Pam shot Wren a pointed look. "The one with the bigger cock," she shrugged. She set her glass down and held her hands apart about seven inches and then raised an eyebrow at Wren.
Wren crawled forward and inspected Pam's hands. Then she held her own out to about the same length and tilted her head. They both looked at each other and frowned. Pam shook her head first and then made a circle with her thumb and forefinger about an inch in diameter. Wren nodded and then grinned wildly. Pam gaped at the almost two inch circle that Wren made. Looking at each other, they could only contain themselves for so long. Wren cracked fist, snorting, and Pam followed, howling in laughter. They both collapsed back into the couch and had another drink.
"I can see it," Pam said, and then she snorted. "Not 'is cock, mind you. I mean Murph, bein' the older of the two. Conn's a little more outspoken. A little bit cocky, a little bit bad."
"Oh," Wren sighed, "Murph's got just as much bad in him. And cock." She frowned then. "Wait, that didn't sound right."
Pam erupted in laughter once more. "To late!" she gasped. "Murph is full o'cock!" she crowed, causing Wren to laugh as well.
"I always figured Conn was the oldest," Wren said after their laughter had died down to mere giggles. "He's always keeping Murphy in check. Seems to be a bit more rational." She looked at Pam. "You're not gonna tell Conn, are you?"
"What?" Pam said, before taking a dose of vodka. "That Murph is hung?" She shook her head. "Besides, he probably knows already." She gestured to the shower before them, and the two naked shower heads installed there. "Now, if that's not close, I don't know what is."
"But it's a nice feeling," Wren pointed out. She tipped the whiskey bottle to her lips and took a few healthy slugs. "That kind of closeness. You don't see that often anymore. My brothers aren't that close."
Pam shook her head. "Neither are mine. But then again, they didn't come to a new country when they were twenty with naught but their clothes on their backs. Connor and Murphy have to be close to watch over each other the way they do."
"What about that?" Wren said after a moment, gesturing to the toilet. "I mean, I can pee in front of someone else, no problem. I've peed with Connor in the apartment. But, you know, how does one…do that in front of someone else?"
Pam giggled and nodded. "That is close. I always leave here an extra half hour early to get home and do that." She made a face. "I love Conn to death but I can't even imagine."
"They're boys," Wren summed up. "Gross, disgusting, smelly boys," she added childishly. "They probably have contests to see whose crap is bigger."
"Maybe that's how to determine who the older one is," Pam added thoughtfully.
"Ye mean the one with the bigger shite?" Wren rolled out in her best MacManus impression.
"Aye, lass! He who craps the Titanic wins!"
Again, they broke into laughter, and whiskey, and vodka.
"Found one!" Pam crowed triumphantly as she held up a Sharpie. She waved at the table with the marker. "Come sit. I haven't done this in ages!"
Wren lifted an eyebrow sceptically. "What? Drawn on people?" She laughed. "Don't you do that for a living?"
"Not anything that can wash off," Pam grinned. "Come on, you pour, I'll draw."
"Good," Wren muttered, pulling up a chair and unscrewing the cap on the whiskey. "I can't even draw a stick person."
"Seriously?" Pam twirled the marker with a flourish.
"No one at school ever wanted to play hangman with me. They were never sure it was a man I was drawing."
Pam howled as Wren poured whiskey in one glass and vodka in the other. She spun the bottle of vodka in her palm and cocked her eyebrow at Pam. "Glad to see we're sticking to our talents." She picked up her whiskey and took a sip. "Aren't you Irish?" Wren asked as she watched Pam throw the vodka down her throat.
"I am," she drawled. "But I hate falling into stereotypes. I never drink whiskey."
Wren shrugged and placed her right hand on the table. "More for me."
Pam waited as Wren poured her another vodka and uncapped the Sharpie. "Give me your other hand."
Wren paused. "But Murphy…"
"I know, I know," Pam sighed. "But you said it yourself, you can't even draw a stick person. I'm left handed so I can only do my right hand."
"Won't that be kinda weird?" Wren asked as Pam touched the felt tip to her skin.
"Kinda," Pam agreed. "But they're gonna be so shitfaced, they probably won't notice."
"Christ, wha' time is it?" Pam mumbled from Connor's mattress.
"Lord's name," Wren called from Murphy's side. She checked her watch. "S'almost ten. They are going to be greased when they make it home."
"Almost as bad as us?" Pam retorted.
"M'not," Wren insisted. "I'm a bartender. I can hold my liquor." She sat up suddenly and the room tilted to the right. "Whoa," she added softly. "I need a smoke." She started fumbling around Murphy's belongings, tossing T shirts and boxers in every direction. "How the fuck does he find anything in here?" she groused to no one in particular.
"D'ye mind?" Pam's voice came out muffled as she caught a face full of black T shirt. She whipped it off and tossed it back towards Wren and stared up at the ceiling. "Have you and Murphy ever screwed when Conn was home?"
"Few times," Wren answered absently. "And that one…time…" she trailed off, biting her tongue.
Pam perked up at this. She sat up, also a little too quickly, and burped loudly. The bottle of vodka went up and back down after a sip. "What's that?" she sang from Connor's mattress. "That one time, what?"
"Are there any smokes over there?" Wren called, pretending that she hadn't heard Pam.
Pam rustled around for a moment and came up with half a pack of Marlboros. "Right here," she said, waving said pack around.
"Toss 'em over."
Pam cleared her throat and waited until Wren met her gaze across the gap between mattresses. "Nuh uh," she said, shaking her head. "That one time, what, Wren?" she asked again with a wicked grin. "An' if ye tell me ye had a threesome, I'm goin' te feel very left out."
Wren would have blushed, had she not already been flushed from all of the whiskey she'd consumed. "No," she said slowly. "No threesome. But there were two one-somes."
Pam frowned. "Now you've lost me," she muttered. She shook the pack of Marlboros again. "Lookit what Pam has fer ye, Wren," she sang. "Be a good lass and tell me what the feck yer on about and ye can smoke em all."
"You know, the more you drink, the more you sound like Connor. It's kinda sexy," Wren quipped as she crawled from Murphy's mattress to Connor's. "Now give up the smokes, lass." She swiped at Pam's hand.
Pam yelped and rolled to the other end of Connor's mattress. "Nope! Not until you tell me what happened!" She squealed again as Wren got to her knees and lunged at Pam's long legs.
"Pam! C'mon, you don't even smoke – not even while you're drinking!"
Pam wiggled and held the cigarettes just out of Wren's reach. "Ye have possibly incriminatin' information about my boyfriend! You want to pollute your lungs, fine, but yer tellin' me a story, first!"
Wren gave a battle cry and toppled Pam to the mattress, straddling her hips and fighting to keep her arms pinned with her hands. "Just one! One cigarette and I'll talk!"
Pam laughed, her green eyes shining, and she shook her head. "No way! Off wit ye!" she bucked and Wren cried out, toppling backwards. "Jaysus, yer light as bird!"
"Ha ha," Wren growled. Suddenly, Pam's face came into view, hovering over Wren and smiling.
"Oh, c'mon, yer all tiny and shite. Murphy loves it, I bet, bein' able to lift ye up and screw you right proper against a wall!"
"Maybe," Wren chuckled. She cocked her head. "You telling me that Connor is missionary only? Cuz I don't believe it."
"Lord, no!" Pam exclaimed, shaking a smoke from the pack and holding it in front of Wren's nose. "But the one time we did try fer it against a wall, he pulled his hamstring!"
Wren paused and then absolutely cackled, tears leaking down her face even as she grabbed up the offered cigarette. "Fuck off, seriously?"
"We had to put a cold can of Guinness on it!"
Wren snorted and put the cigarette between her lips. "That shit'll cure anything, right? At least, that's what Murphy thinks."
"That's what the Irish think, Wren," Pam clarified. "Now talk."
Wren screwed up her face. "Can I at least get a light?"
Pam shook her head tartly. "Ye said one smoke and ye'd talk. Didn't say anythin' about a light."
"Bitch," Wren sighed. "All right." She shifted under Pam's weight and folded her arms behind her head. "It was a few months ago…the night after you got them to come to Grayson's?" Pam nodded and Wren continued. "Well, Murph woke up with what I'm guessing was a serious case of morning wood." She snorted. "Hell, I was still half asleep. Anyway, he hopped on and I didn't get off so when he went out for coffee…" and she trailed off with a hand gesture. "You know."
Pam grinned. She had an inkling, but she shook her head. "No, I don't. Please, do tell."
Wren groaned and closed her eyes for a moment, mustering the courage. "Okay, but again, let me state that I was still half asleep. Murphy went for coffee and I…took matters into my own hands. Connor was asleep right here while I…"
"Flicked the bean?" Pam supplied slyly.
"Rubbed one out," Wren ground out. "At least, I'm pretty sure he was asleep."
It was Pam's turn to snort. "I doubt it. He's a right perv, that one." She balanced up on her knees and snaked her hand down into the hip pocket of her jeans, coming up with a lighter. "Here," she said, leaning down and bringing it to flame.
Wren leaned up, lighting the cigarette and caught a glimpse of Pam's tattoo under the collar of her sweater. As Pam sat back, Wren blew out a stream of smoke and folded her unoccupied hand behind her head. "How far down does that go?" she asked, nodding to Pam's shoulder.
Pam winked and jumped up, pulling her sweater up over her head. "Starts here," she stated boldly, pointing to her right shoulder. She did a half turn and Wren followed the vine down her lean torso. Then Pam thumbed open her jeans and slid them down her hips. "Ends here," she said, pointing to the last curl on the inside of her right thigh.
"Wow," Wren breathed. "I'm not going to lie, that's kinda hot."
"Thanks," Pam winked and pulled her jeans back up, but left her sweater where it lay. Her golden skin was flushed with vodka and she sank back to the mattress and took up the bottle of vodka once more. "You've got a tattoo, don't you?"
"Yep." Wren clamped the cigarette between her teeth and held up her hair before turning her body slightly towards Pam. "On the back of my neck," she prompted.
Pam watched Wren gather her straight, fine, wheat blonde hair up with one hand and tug at the collar of her shirt with the other. "Sometimes I wish I was a blonde," she sighed before leaning in and reading the letters stamped on Wren's neck. "Yer gonna have to help me, my Latin's a little rusty."
Wren looked up as Pam swung her face back to hers, and their eyes locked in a strangely heated gaze. "Take it all," Wren breathed, her eyes lazily dipping to Pam's mouth.
They didn't know who moved first and it took them both a moment to register that they were actually kissing. Seconds passed and they pulled apart, feeling lightheaded.
"Oh," Pam husked, licking her lips.
"Yeah," Wren growled slowly, biting her own. "Oh, fuck it," she sighed, sinking her fingers into Pam's thick hair and pulling her mouth back to hers.
