Wednesday, Week 1:
"Ye've knocked twice, an' she ain't answered yet. She's not home, so use th'fuckin' key already an' let us in. I'm tired o'waitin' in th'hall!"
Connor sighs; he knows Murphy's right, it's just that he doesn't like admitting it out loud if he can help it.
"All right, then. Here's th'plan: we'll go in, arrange the table, put some candles an' such on it, so when she sees it—"
"Candles?!" Murphy nearly drops his end of the heavy coffee table they're carrying through the door now, he's laughing so hard. "Are ye hearin' yerself? It's somethin' from one o'yer daft movies, ain't it? Yer goin' soft, Con. Next thing ye'll be curled up on th'couch, cryin' into a box o'chocolates an' watchin' Disney movies or some shit."
Connor clenches his jaw but doesn't take his brother's bait. He wants this to turn out just right, and he's determined not to let Murphy fuck it up. He has a fleeting moment of wishing he'd asked Rocco along instead, but he dismisses the thought. Murphy cares just as much about their girl as Connor does, and they both feel equally guilty about smashing the other table.
Murphy's just decided to be an asshole today. That's all.
They set the table down in the living room and begin to move the loose magazines and newspapers scattered around the room until they're piled more or less neatly under the table.
Despite his muttered complaints, Murphy locates some candles and a couple of other decorative objects Connor deems worthy of the surprise. Then Connor notices that the front door is standing wide open.
"Murph, ye left th'fuckin' door open. Just 'cause we were raised on a farm don't mean ye hafta let everyone know!"
"That doesn't even make sense! An' yer just as capable of closin' th'door as me."
Connor takes a minute to control his temper. They are not going to destroy the table again, this isn't the time or the place. "Ye came through after me, ye shoulda shut it then, now shut th'fuck up an' shut th'fuckin' door!"
Murphy kicks the bottom of the door, venting his frustration and unintentionally connecting a bit harder than he meant to. The door closes with a loud slam, the sound echoing through the small apartment.
Both brothers jump suddenly when they hear an answering splash and a muffled curse burst from behind the closed bathroom door.
Connor glances at his brother with an eyebrow raised. "I guess she's home after all. Sick day, maybe?"
Murphy shrugs, eyeing the bathroom door. "She seemed fine when we saw her Monday. You talked to her last night, how'd she sound?"
"Tired, but she'd just gotten home so that's nothin' new." Connor sets down the picture frame he's holding and moves quickly over to the bathroom door. He raps his knuckles lightly on the door.
"Lass, it's us. Wanted t'surprise ye, but I guess we messed up. Y'okay in there?"
…
Shit! What the hell are they doing here? Seriously, the one time I fake calling in sick to have a girly, relaxing day to myself and they decide to play nice boyfriends and surprise me? Really?
I know my face is flushed from embarrassment (among other things), and I stand up quickly in the bathtub, bringing my sodden magazine with me. I'm half-upset for dropping the thing when the door slammed and half-worried Connor will burst in here before I have a chance to stash it somewhere. My eyes dart wildly around the bathroom looking for a decent hiding place.
I get now why my friends all keep their clothes hampers in the bathroom instead of the bedroom.
Connor taps on the door again. "Lass? Ye okay? Need us t'come in there?"
NO! But if I don't answer or come out soon, they've liable to break down the door or destroy the living room again.
"Ye did say there's room fer all three of us in there," Murphy calls in what I'm sure he thinks is a helpful way. "We could test that theory out." I hear a loud smack and Murphy's answering curse. Dammit, they're really about to start up again, aren't they?
After another moment's hesitation, I sling the magazine under the sink, slam the cabinet door shut, and shrug into my bathrobe just as the doorknob turns. I swear, life with these two is like something out of a movie sometimes.
Connor hesitantly sticks his head around the door, probably worried my temper will surface if he's not careful. "Didn't mean t'startle ye, lass; we were gonna surprise ye wit' a new table an' all, an' we did knock a few times b'fore we used our key, honest."
I make a special effort to get my voice and breathing under control before I answer.
"You really didn't have to do that, and I appreciate it. I guess I was so zoned out I just didn't hear you two come in, and the door slam just freaked me out so I dropped…er…splashed some water out of the tub."
The last bit is definitely true, as evidenced by the pond I'm currently standing in.
"Here, lemme help." Before I can stop him, Connor grabs my towel and starts mopping up water from the floor. I can't think of a legitimate excuse to tell him to stop, so I resign myself to the end of my girly day and pull the plug from the drain.
"Didn't know ye had a day off t'day. We could've done something earlier 'stead of waitin' fer t'night."
I feel a definite twinge of guilt, but Connor's tone isn't accusing. I listen to Murphy moving things around in the living room and accept the sodden towel from Connor in exchange for the dry one I've picked up. I wring the soaked towel out over the tub as I answer him.
"I fake-called in sick today. Figured after the last couple of days I've had at work and all the overtime I've been putting in I'd have some relaxing alone time then give you guys a call a little earlier than we'd originally planned. How's your wrist, by the way?"
"Healed up just fine. Hasn't bothered me fer over a week, plus Murphy got is stitches out t'day. 'S'why we're not at work ourselves."
Connor pauses, peering intently at something on the floor in front of the cabinet. "Lass, didja know some o'th'water's comin' from under yer sink? Ye might have a leak or somethin'. I'll just take a quick look."
My eyes widen in horror and snap up from where I'm staring blankly at the drain just in time to see Connor pull open the little wooden door.
"What th—what is this?"
My face makes a muffled squelch as it hits the damp towel in my hands. This. This is why I didn't need them here now. Half an hour earlier or later, and I'd have been done with the magazine and had it stashed away safe and not soaking wet.
"Is this…no…Murph! Get in here!"
Why? Why don't I date one normal, non-joined-at-the-hip, non-twin instead of these two lunatics? What is wrong with me?
Murphy steps into the bathroom, and Connor bounces to his feet from the floor, practically shoving the sodden magazine into his brother's face.
"Our girl is a perv, Murph!" Connor crows gleefully. I can feel a tiny headache starting between my eyes.
This really is about as bad as I'd figured it could be, hence why I hid the stupid magazine from them in the first place. My anxiety only worsens as Murphy's expression slowly grows to mirror Connor's. I swear, the only thing that could make this situation much worse is—
"Hey, Conn, if ye turn this one just right, it looks just like ye!"
Bingo.
Connor leans over Murphy's shoulder, studying the picture. He glances at me and then at Murphy.
"Just our luck t'get th'girl who can't even enjoy porn properly. Lass, he's still got pants on; I don't think that's th'point. Although…" He looks around the bathroom, taking in the water still on the floor, the magazine dripping on his brother's hands, and my still-flushed face. I can see the realization dawning.
"Holy shit, girl, were you—"
"OUT! Both of you out of my bathroom now!"
I manage to herd both of them out, slamming and locking the door being them. I turn, my back hitting the door wearily, clutching my head in my hands as I listen to the two of them laughing and bickering in the living room.
After a few minutes, the apartment quiets down, and I start to consider coming out. The worst is over, right? Then I hear Murphy.
"Ye know, Con, there's somethin' t'be said fer th' fact that our girl prefers a black-an'-white still shot of yer half-dressed look-a-like t'th' real thing…Seems like ye got some competition."
At the sound of a thunk and breaking glass, I reconsider leaving the bathroom. After all, I did want some alone time today. Now's as good a time as any. I'm only disappointed I didn't get to see my new table, and it's probably about to be destroyed.
Sigh.
Author's Note: Chapter 2: Death of the Magazine…what'd you think? Again, any ideas or suggestions, please let me know. Hope you enjoyed. As always, if you made it this far, please take the time to leave a little something in the box on your way out. Thanks so much for reading!