One. The groceries barely made it to the table.

Rocco often did the Twin's shopping—which consisted mainly of Heineken and occasionally boxed cereal that they could eat straight from the package. Cheap stuff that his mother would often pay for so the twins didn't have to. It took them a while to accept the charity, but Mrs. Della Rocco had been just so insistent that she almost seemed like she wouldn't let them eat if it wasn't out of her pocket.

So Rocco yawned as he took the elevator—that scary, rickety old thing that used to give him a heart attack each time he took it—and checked his wrist as though he had a watch. He'd accidentally worn his in the shower and has yet to replace the damn thing. Fifth floor PING!

It was pretty early and the twins didn't have to work so he didn't actually expect them up until around five this evening. He shoved his free hand into his pocket as he crossed the hall to get the spare key he had. Why they even bothered to lock the door was beyond him.

At first he was a bit confused at what he saw. And of course, al who are reading this probably knows what he saw. There was only one occupied bed in the apartment and the two familiar figures that lay on it were tangled together in a seeming impossible knot. A blanket barely covered their naked forms and Rocco barely made it to the table to set the bag of groceries down before he completely lost his grip. What. the. fuck?

He voiced his thoughts with a high-pitched squeak: "What the fuck!?"

Connor's blond head raised first from its position on Murphy's chest. "Shit," he muttered, his eyes focusing on Rocco after a moment. "….Hey….Roc…"

The door slammed sharply as a very confused package boy left in a rush, getting out of there before the image that he'd seen burned itself into his eyes. Murphy started awake and accidentally bumped heads with his brother. "Ah FUCK!!" He automatically fell back onto his pillow, clutching his sore eye.

"Jesus, Murph! Watch what yer fuckin' doin', ya assclown!" Connor rubbed his temple gently as he unraveled himself from his lover. "Rocco just left. I didn't know he was coming taday."

"Oh yeah, I s'pose I shoulda mentioned that last night."

Connor bowed his head and chuckled quietly. "Ya moron…"


Two. Mom, you'll never believe what I saw!

"Ya told yer mother? Jesus Christ, man!" Rocco tried to give a retort from his side of the phone conversation, but Murphy was relentless in his onslaught. "D'ya run home ta Ma ev'ry time ya piss yerself er somethin'?"

"Hey, fuck you, MacManus! I'm not the one who sleeps with my brother."

Connor shoved Murphy slightly and took control over the phone. "Ya don' have a brother, Rocco. An' even if ya did, I doubt ya'd do him like that anyway."

"Please don't ever say that again, Connor, for my sake."

"Oh c'mon man, yer actin' like we just fuckin' raped ya er somethin'." A quick swat to the head shut Murphy up. He stared a Connor with a raised eyebrow before hitting his brother back. He deserved it, the bastard. "Th'fuck was that fer?"

"Shut it fer two fuckin' seconds, would ya, brother?" Connor almost laughed at how Murphy pouted and let go of the phone, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "So, anyway, Roc…what's so bad about it that ya go so freaked out? I mean, Jesus, it doesn't affect ye that we…ya know…"

Rocco sighed quietly and Connor could tell this was weighing a bit on his senses. "You could have given me a fucken warning or something…If it's not so bad then why'd you try and hide it."

"Ya know what the priest would say if he found out?"

Murphy perked up a bit at this and snatched the phone away. "'The power o' Christ compels ya!'" He mimicked a member of the clergy, one whom he did not care for. "We'd never hear the end of it. He'd probably call Ma an' God knows what she'd have ta say on the matter. So it's just better that we don' go 'round parading our sexuality and relationship ta the world. Ya understand, Roc?"

"Yeah…whatever. Listen, fellas, I gotta go. I'll talk to you….sooner or later." The line clicked off.

Connor took the phone and set it down on the floor by the couch, looking at the Murphy that sat in his lap with a calculating gaze—concentrating like there was some hard math problem he had to do but couldn't figure out. Murphy raised an eyebrow with a silent question. "I don' get ye sometimes, Murph…one moment yer the world's biggest fuckwitt, then yer Mister Sensible."

"Ah, shut it, ya monkey fuck." Murphy smacked him lightly, playfully on the head. "So what d'we do about Rocco?"

"Just let him figure it out. He'll be back b'fore ya can count ta three. In the meantime, however…" Connor wrapped his arms around his twin and held him as close as possible. "We gotta do somethin' ta pass the time."


Three. Like a Condom?

So Rocco sat at the table in the fifth floor, loft apartment that the brother's shared. He was looking from one mirrored face to the other and then back. After a beat he simply grabbed the beer he'd been offered and snapped it open to take a long, satisfying drink. Once that was done, he turned back to Murphy and Connor

"Well, Roc? Ya done bein' an idjit?" Trust Murphy ta fuck with the silence they had going.

For a moment, Rocco just glared at him, trying to think of an insult that didn't encompass the totally real and strangely disconcerting fact that the MacManus brothers fuck each other. It was a fruitless venture, so he sighed and leaned on one hand on the table. "Shut up, you hug cock."

Odd stillness crept in between them for the longest of times until Murphy couldn't take it and he burst out laughing at the accusation. His shrieking laughter almost shook the window panes from their weak hold on the walls. "Like a Condom," he stated breathlessly.

Connor just smirked toothily and shook his head at Rocco and his brother's statements together. "Yes he does, in fact," he said steadily, "And he's damn good at it, too."