A/N: More farts ahead. Even though they don't belong to me, I am fairly certain that the MacManus brothers are kings of toilet humor… Thanks for the reviews, everyone. I appreciate them and would love more!

Leah's mother and father were waiting in the side garden with George, the family Airedale Terrier (Terror) who thought he weighed much less than his actual 70 pounds. Murphy figured that Leah would come from a rich family even though she did not wear all the posh clothes and drive the sports car like so many of the kids at their college. But he had guessed right, seeing the stately old Charleston Battery home with its bountiful gardens, columns and view of the Atlantic Ocean.

He watched Leah bound out of the car and begin romping with George, both of them running in and out of manicured bushes. He and Connor had met her parents when they came to help Leah get moved in during orientation and wound up hauling Murphy and Connor around too and taking them to dinner every night before returning to South Carolina. Leah's father was a faculty member at the medical school in Charleston and was particularly interested in Murphy's interest in rural geriatric medicine. And naturally, Murphy thought, if a woman has had a baby, she will latch onto Connor, as did Leah's mother, a former nurse turned volunteer extraordinaire.

Murphy sat on one of the home's many porches talking with Dr. Winslow and Leah's uncle Russ, who was going to take them out on his boat on Friday after the Clemson football game and who was very interested in genealogy. No, all Irish, Murphy insisted. Leah's uncle maintained that their roots could actually lie in Scotland. Her uncle did not understand it was offensive to be called potentially Scottish. Her mother's brother-in-law was a Campbell, and apparently very proud to be a distant descendant of John C. Calhoun and Robert MacGregor. Fuckin' Scots, Murph thought, although Leah's uncle was harmless and quite entertaining.

Meanwhile Connor was in the kitchen chopping this and that, being ever so fucking helpful as he always was, no doubt, Murphy thought.

And Leah was playing with George. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her tackle the dog and rub his belly then get up and start running with the beast again.

"You're fucking kidding me." Murphy said, when Leah showed him to his room. It had windows on three sides, like a spindle in a castle.

"It's really nice when the sun comes up. You have to walk down the hall to your bathroom though and the bed's only a single, but I thought you might like it." She said, smiling. "You may have to switch with Connor if he wants it one night, okay? But he has the best balcony room and his bathroom has the big claw foot tub where you can take a big bubble bath and watch all the sailboats on the water."

"What's your room like?"

"Pretty boring compared to this one."

"If you want, I can make it less boring for you tonight."
"I'm three doors down, Murph. Your brother's next door. Towels are in the bathroom. Water's in that carafe next to the bed."

He could hear her talking to Connor quietly until he fell asleep about an hour later. Damn Connor. He had to know how much he liked Leah. Connor always gave in to him. Always. This was seriously fucking frustrating.

"Connor."

He woke to a gentle nudge from Leah and then George's wet nose. He lifted the covers and tried to pull her into the bed.

"No, let's go watch the sunrise on the balcony. It's about to come up." She said quietly. His eyes focused and he saw she was holding two quilts and looked adorable in her flannel pajamas.

"Gotta put on more clothes." He said, acutely aware that he was just wearing his boxer shorts.

Even though they had crapped in front of each other, many nights had slept next to each other and he would have gladly stood before her naked as the day he was born had she wanted that, he thought of this as a magnificent slow waltz that he wanted to continue forever, building and building in its own time to a climax.

And not in her parents' house.

They huddled in one of the balcony swings, George curled up with them, and watched the sun rise over the ocean. He appreciated this, watching the sunrise over the water, as he had many times as a child. He missed the water. He missed the coast. He missed home in so many ways, the sheer geography of it. Ma, of course, their Uncle Sibeal, and a few of their cousins. But mostly he missed the air, the way it smelled, the cold this time of year. He wondered if Murph missed anything.

"You're a million miles away, Connor." Leah said quietly. Connor was glad she did not wake Murphy.

"No, just a few thousand. Thinking of home, what it looks like right now. Thinking of how many times I've walked the coast at sunrise. I hadn't realized how much I missed the water until now."

"We'll come down more often." She told him. "Mama and Aunt Sue will fight over who gets to keep you. Five minutes you're here, Connor, and you replace me. I'll just move to the bottom of the pack under George."

George's head popped out from the quilts at the mention of his name.

"Not time for breakfast yet, you big wonderful glutton." Leah laughed, kissing George on the nose. George gave a disgusted sigh and submerged himself under the quilts once more.

"He's more human than most people I've met."

"Superior to people." She corrected, then ruffled his hair. "Well, maybe you could be in the same league."

The urge to kiss her was overwhelming at that moment. While others might not take being likened to George as a compliment, Connor knew this was highest praise from Leah. And the fact that she always cared about what he was thinking and had said she would bring him to her home again. So instead he just met her eyes and smiled then looked back out at the water, unable to contain his smile and not really trying to. It was the best compliment he had ever been given.

"He's missing the best part of the day." Leah groaned, as they all ate breakfast and his brother continued to sleep. Leah had made French toast. She had already finished hers.

"Let the child sleep, Miss Priss." Her mother said gently, shaking her head at Connor and patting him on the shoulder. Clarissa Winslow was an older version of her daughter, playful, gentle and kind. However, Leah had said her mother could be roused if her buttons were pushed. "Connor, dear, how do you put up with her?"

"He was telling me about that schedule of his last night. He needs his rest." Her father agreed. Connor knew Dr. Winslow had taken an instant liking to Murphy.

"I am going to fix him some French toast and I am taking it upstairs and the Princess can have his breakfast in bed and then he is getting up." Leah groaned, going to the stove, George at her heels. "And don't even start about his tough schedule."

"Leah Winslow, we have company!" her mother looked horrified.

"It's just Connor. And Connor, you might want have a word or two to add here. Connor's schedule is much more rigorous. He's taking four engineering classes and Russian and you don't hear him complaining."

"Well, Murph does like to sleep late. I usually have to get him up most mornings."

"With a shoe to the head."

"Oh, Connor dear, you don't."

"I'm afraid so, Mrs. Winslow. Cinder blocks tend ta draw blood."

Leah and her dad began to laugh.

"I imagine George can take care of it." Dr. Winslow said, grinning at his daughter conspiratorially.

Murphy did sleep like the dead. When Leah opened the door and Connor followed her inside the room, carrying a tray piled high with French toast, coffee, orange juice and George following, Murphy was sound asleep, the midmorning sunlight filling the room. Connor couldn't believe Murphy had totally missed how incredible the sunrise would look in this room.

According to Leah, George had a little known dubious talent which she often enjoyed employing on her lesser beloved family members or anyone sleeping too late, who all became sitting ducks. Sleeping with George was how Leah had discovered this talent: George was rather adept at waking a person with "a wink of the turd eye." Apparently, the large dog could stealthily position his rectum in a person's face and fart on command. Of course the dog could fart on command. The dog farted constantly with his steady diet of high fiber, doggie health food and more table scraps and treats than one would believe. He had just eaten a piece of French toast. Leah told Connor she was certain there would be a few good ones waiting in the bomb bay door.

"Winky" commanded Leah, and Connor watched George delicately hop up on the bed. Connor admired the dog's stealth for being so large but Leah had told him previously that he was soon to witness something spectacular, so he was not too surprised. And as promised, George put his ass in Murphy's face. Connor thought he was going to explode with laughter and ran to get the camera. Ma had to see these pictures. Ma would think it was fantastic that Leah had actually trained the dog to put its arse in a sleeping person's face. It took four farts for Murphy to wake up. And they were foul too, after the French toast.

Leah had told Connor on the way upstairs there was an occasional bonus to this trick: the victim was so disoriented that an eye, nose or better yet mouth made contact with the back end of George.

It was only Murphy's cheek but still gratifying, especially as Connor snapped pictures of the whole thing. Murphy jumped out of the bed and started yelling every verbal combination of fuck he could conjure, as Leah and Connor collapsed on the floor laughing and George ran around in circles, well pleased with himself.

"Shut it, Murph. Remember where ye are." Connor groaned with laughter.

"And we made you breakfast in bed, you jerk." Leah agreed, pointing to the tray on the dresser.

"Oh, and ya think I can eat after that animal practically took a shit on me face?"

"Murph, you can always eat, you nimrod. Come on, get back in bed." Leah said, getting to her feet and pulling Connor up. "I cooked it for you. Go on. Get back in bed. I made you breakfast in bed, dummy."

His brother gave him a murderous look but climbed back in the bed, muttering that he was cold. "Can't believe that."

"I worked hard to train him to do it on command. You should be impressed." Leah chuckled, bringing the tray to the bed and sitting down and motioning for Connor to follow. "Sit up and lean forward."

She had told Connor once when they were walking back from the library and found themselves in the unusual situation of having to walk a wandering duck back to the lake in the gardens so it would not get hit by a car that he should not be so hard on Murphy.

You need to love him for who he is, Connor, she said. I can't even imagine how hard it was for you guys not to have a dad growing up, to be haunted by the idea that he died violently in some needless explosion. I see you trying to protect Murphy and parent him all the time. I'm really not criticizing you. But I think you guys would be so much closer and happier if you would be his brother and enjoy being his brother. It would be so much less of a burden on you. I would love it if he were my brother. In fact, I can't think of him as anything else than my brother, not a friend but a brother.

And me, Leah, he wanted to ask, how do you feel about me. But a part of him did not want to know the answer. He didn't think he could take her saying didn't he know that she felt he was her brother without saying it.

It was a challenge getting the duck to go back in the water and convincing it that they didn't have any bread for it. Leah found an old granola bar in her backpack to give it. In the process of trying to get the bloody thing to follow the chunks of granola into the water, it wound up biting him on the thigh and Leah dropped the granola bar from laughing so hard. Bloody duck.

He loved it when she laughed, even if it was at his expense.

Connor did not make eye contact with Murphy while Leah plumped pillows behind him and cut his French toast. He looked out the windows at the ocean but could see in the reflection that she had fed him the first bite, all the while berating him for sleeping all day and missing the sunrise in this room and saying he would get George's farts as an alarm clock again if he wasn't careful. Connor did not want to see the smug look on Murphy's face as Leah put the bite of French toast in his mouth.

He didn't know if he had it in him to truly ever fight with Murphy. Didn't Murph understand anything? Why couldn't he just back away from Leah and not try to take her away just because that was what he had always done? Leah came to his side a moment later and smiled when he looked down into her face. He turned and looked at Murphy, busying himself with his breakfast, apparently having forgiven George, whom he was now feeding from his fork. Connor smiled. He loved his brother more than anything in the world when they were small. Now he loved two with that same intensity. And both of them were right there with him. He squeezed Leah's shoulder then turned and climbed onto the bed with Murphy, who lifted up the covers. Connor slid in next to him.

"Want some?" Murph asked, offering him a bite.

"No thanks, stuffed. More downstairs." Connor said, suddenly just so glad that Murph had lifted the covers. Things would never be perfect but when he turned and looked at Murph, he recognized him again.

"I'm going to go outside and do some badly needed trimming." Leah said, walking toward the door with George following. "You guys take your time. Let's go work on the roses, George."

"Guess we should have gone to college near the water." Murphy said, breaking the silence.

"You miss it too?"

"Aye, but probably mostly because ye do." He said, putting the tray aside. "Christmas'll be here soon, Conn. Ye can go to all yer old hiding places."

Connor detected a note of bitterness in Murphy's voice.

"Hiding places? What are ye talking about, Murph?"

Murph narrowed his eyes. "You're happier than I've ever known ya to be, Connor. But growing up, ya always hid yer true thoughts from me. Ya always hid everything, always had to be so strong, always trying to make sure I was okay—"

"I'm your brother, Murph. It was my responsibility to make sure ya were okay--"

"It was like ya couldn't breathe if Ma and I were around. The only time ya were really yourself was when ya would go off by yerself." Connor felt his face go hot. Damn Murphy for intruding, always having to have every piece of everything. "I followed ye so many times and ya never knew it. Just to see what ya were doin'. Just to see who ye really are."

Connor glared at him and started to move. Murphy grabbed his shoulders. "No, yer gonna listen. We're gonna talk about this. Or maybe I'm gonna talk about it. And ye can be pissed all ya want."

"Murph, let go." Connor said quietly.

"No, 'cause yer gonna run away as quick as ya can."

Connor frowned and looked Murphy square in the face. "No, Murph. That's ridiculous. I'm not going to run away. Yer being fuckin' overdramatic."

"Ye used to laugh to yerself sometimes when ya would go to the cove at the shore. Sometimes I would watch ya cry. Sometimes ya would just sit and stare at the water and I wondered what ya were thinkin' about." Murph told him, his eyes sad and pleading. "But I knew I was uninvited there. Don't ya know that you are welcome in every corner of my soul, Connor? But I don't feel welcome by you."

The words stung, stung like nothing that he had ever experienced.

"So I do my work. I pray. I go to the hospital and work with the old people. I get trashed and fuck girls I don't give a toss about."

Oh hell, Connor thought, feeling his chest tighten up. "Murph, what do ye want? What do ye want from me?"

"Talk to me sometimes, Connor. Trust me a little. Am I not worth yer trust? What have I ever done to betray ya? Sure, I'm not perfect. But I'm yer brother. Yer brother, Connor."

Leave it to Murphy to go for the kill. Connor started hyperventilating.

"Oh, jesus, Connor, I'm sorry. Easy now. Sorry. So sorry."

When he could speak again, Connor said, "Murph, I'm sorry for whatever I've done. I had to take care of ya. Do ya understand that? Ma wasn't gonna. Maybe it wasn't the right way, but from the time I was old enough to understand anythin', I understood that ya were all I had and I would do anythin' to protect ya, give ya anythin' to try to make ya happy. Nothing mattered except for ya, not even Ma really, if ya want the truth."

"And now?"

"What do you mean?"

"You love her more than you love me."

So Murphy said it. Maybe that was what he had been wanting to say all along.

"Differently, Murph."

"But you do love her."

"You know that I do."

"Well, so do I."

Connor turned his gaze from the windows out to the ocean and looked into his brother's eyes. "What are ya saying ta me, Murphy?"

"I am saying that I love her just like you do."

Connor sighed and left the bed. "Think carefully about this one, Murphy. And don't even dream of hurting her."

"So that's what ye think? I'm not worthy of her? As if ye are?"

"That has not a whit to do with it. Murphy, I will not walk away from her. If she chooses ya, I will accept it. And remember, she may not ever want either of us. But I will be there waiting should she ever want me but it will be her decision and on her terms. And ye tread lightly with her. There's too much ya don't know about her, about the way she thinks and feels. Don't ya ever dream of treating her the way ya treat those girls that expect ye'll treat them with common decency at the very least. Ye'll have me to deal with if ya do, and believe me, that's one beating ya will never forget. She's extraordinary and ya will treat her that way."

Murphy snorted. "That's all ye think I am capable of, don't ye? Ya arrogant fuck, Connor."

"Why can't ya be happy for me, Murph? Why? Why can't ya—"

"What?"

"Why can't ya let go? Why? Why can't I love someone else too? Why does my whole life have to be solely for you?"

Connor couldn't believe he had said it, blurted it really. Of course, he had meant every word of it. Murphy's compulsive possessiveness had steered the course of their lives thus far. No real friends growing up, never a real girlfriend. And Murph was right: he had to sneak away silently to have a moment for himself.

"You created this monster, Connor." Murphy said quietly, looking out at the water. "Looks like you're going to have to live with it."

"You're not having a good time, are you?" Leah said to Connor, when the rest of the family had dispersed in other rooms. She and Connor had offered to clean up the kitchen for her mother and aunt. Murphy and her dad were talking in the study.

"It's fantastic here, Leah."

She had been watching him all day after leaving him and Murphy to Murphy's breakfast. Connor was his charming self and had laughed and eaten and joined in the conversation with her family but she knew something was wrong. She had also seen tension in Murphy's face, while beneath Connor's smile, he simply looked miserable.

She raised her brow and put her hand on his forearm.

"You were right about everything, Leah." He said. "I never was a brother to Murph."

"What's going on, Connor?" she asked, slipping George a spoonful of sweet potatoes.

"All I can say is I did what I did because I thought it was for the best when we were kids. It was second nature to put his happiness before mine, because his happiness was my happiness. Our mother was harsh, not loving like yers, so I tried to be that way for Murph and I tried to be a good example, since we didn't have a dad. And he still wants me to be that person. I don't want to be his keeper anymore. I don't want him to be a child and I don't want to have to be his parent. Ya were right. Ya were right. I want a brother."

"Tell him."

"It's bloody complicated, Leah."

"He's worth it." She said, tucking her arm around Connor's waist. "You'll gain more than you lose."

He turned and looked in her eyes, his gaze so intense that she knew she should look away but she did not. "Thank you, Leah. Thank you."

"For what?"

"Existing." He murmured into her hair and she shivered.