AN: Here's Chapter 2! This will actually be a 3-Part fic, as I realized introducing my OC and setting up the situation would take more than one chapter, since I don't really want to rush it. Thanks!
Chastity grimaced as she hiked up the stairs of her apartment, fumbling only once as her battered and over-filled suitcase threatened to tumble down yet another flight of stairs. Ah, Lord, why did I agree to go see ma and Nan right before St. Patrick's Day? I'll be working double shifts tonight! She stopped in front of her apartment, pausing only to note that the lock had been jimmied, again.
Lord, when will those two just use the key I gave them? Chastity shook her head. In the five years she'd known the MacManus brothers, starting with the day she'd gone to apologize for her sister's actions, she'd never known them to follow the rules or be quite courteous. But that's understandable….Rosie DID kick Connor in the balls.
She stifled her giggle at the memory, Connor opening the door and standing in shock once he realized that the 5' 7" brunette was the younger sister of Rosengurtle, who'd not only lost her job on the first day, but left a rather… firm impression of herself.
Chastity slid the door open, shouldering her suitcase and walked in, prepared to give the twins a long, well deserved heckling speech about damaging her third lock in two months, when she saw them.
They lay on her bed, underneath the largest window in the tiny loft. She loved that spot, since the feeling of sunlight warmed her, and she could imagine being, enveloped in their love for her. She wasn't blind, realizing that while Connor's blonde hair gave him a slightly more angelic expression, his attitude was anything but. Murphy's devilish expression only covered up his religious attitude, never revealing the fact that he was actually a stricter Catholic than Connor.
The mid-afternoon sun, shone directly through the window and onto the twins. Murphy lay half across Connor's bare chest, his usually pale skin infused with a light glow. Connor's hair glimmered in the sunlight while his arms wrapped around Murphy. If it wasn't for the fact that Chastity had a sneaking suspicion they were naked (evidence: clothing strewn over the floor, and a semi-transparent sheet covering them from the waist down), she would have said they were angels.
As it was, she stared at them intently, studying each scar and tattoo, wondering about how soft their skin would be (or if their calluses weren't limited to just their hands), not noticing that they'd awakened, until Connor's lilting voice called out. "Enjoying the show love?"
Chastity's eyes flew upward, her lips widening into an "o" as her cheeks burned. It was at times like these that she cursed her pale skin. She knew that if there was a mirror around, her brown hair would be flopping down from its ponytail (Or she'd drag it down, she thought grimly) to hide the deep pink roses that spread across her skin. Connor remained on his back, his arms folded in front of Murphy to light the cigarette in his hand. Murphy had shifted, so that his back was against the wall, slowly puffing on his own cigarette, the smoke dancing in the golden sunlight, while his right hand idly traced a design on the sheet. Both stared at her with hooded eyes, tired out from the sex and willing her to speak, wanting to know.
Chastity froze. What was there to say? She'd known that they'd loved each other, ever since that time she'd walked into the bathroom of McGinty's and seen Murphy furiously kissing Connor in the mirror. While the thought of two brothers should have disgusted her religious sensibilities, she found herself caring too much about the brothers to cut herself off from any relation with them. Besides, they were regulars at the bar and favorites of Doc's. To suddenly become distant would invite more questions.
And it wasn't as if they could just pick up any girl. She'd known, from the first television broadcast, from the first time they'd limped to her, covered in blood and needing stitches (because Doc couldn't, just couldn't be told for his own safety), that they were the Saints, that they were the ones responsible for killing the scum that lined their town's streets every day.
As it was, she realized there was only one thing to say. "Couldn't you've done it somewhere other than my bed? Say, the floor?" She set down her suitcase, crossed her arms and stared, her arms pushing upwards and her panties feeling more than a little soaked. Chastity narrowed her hazel eyes in what she hoped was a frustrated glare.
Whatever the boys had expected her to say, it certainly wasn't this. Murphy gaped, while Connor's eyes widened and the cigarette he'd been about to take a drag from froze in midair.
AN: Yeah, kinda short, but it sets it up!