When Murphy's eyes opened again, the room was much brighter, late morning sunlight streaming in through only partially closed blinds. He lay there a few moments longer, yawning and wondering if it had all been a dream. But when he sat up, there was a space heater pointed strategically at both his and Connor's pillows, and near the wall were all the books. Reaching up to run his fingers through his hair, he realized that the knit cap was still on his head. He pulled it off and held it in his hands with a lop-sided grin. No dream at all.

Everything that had happened the night before ran through his head. The drive from Chicago, the concert, the pub, the walk to the apartment; it was all crystal clear in his mind. And Fey, Fey the Fairest, Fey the Fairy with a giggle that could melt the coldest heart and who saved books from incineration while making funny faces and giving the sweetest goodnight kisses in the galaxy. He smiled to himself and gave a gentle chuckle at his thoughts.

She was probably still in bed asleep. And oh how Murphy wanted to go in there with her. Just pull back the covers and crawl in beside, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. But she'd probably wake up screaming bloody murder, smack him, and tell him to get out and that she never wanted to see him again. His heart sank at that thought. He just couldn't bare the idea of her being upset with him. So, no, he wouldn't be going in there, no matter how much he wanted to.

Murphy's stomach grumbled loudly, which actually made him start in surprise. He hadn't noticed how hungry he was before. Slowly standing so as not to wake Connor, he glanced around the apartment, discovering the kitchen area in the corner. He crept over there quietly, thankful that he had his socks still on when his feet went from carpet to linoleum. Rummaging around as quietly as possible, Murphy soon discovered some bowls and some nice, sugary cereal. There was only one ingredient missing, so he headed over to the refrigerator.

There was a sound from the living room, and Murphy looked up to see Connor rolling over. He just smiled and opened the fridge door. Inside, he saw all sorts of things, fruits, meats, leftovers. But in the very back he found what he was after. A glass container filled with milk. He almost shuddered in pleasure at the sight. Pulling it out, he unstopped the bottle and smelled it.

"Fresh cow's milk," he smiled, closing the door and turning his eyes to heaven. "Christ, I love this woman."

"Don't ye think ye should be confessin' yer love ta her an' not God," Connor chuckled, having gotten up off the mattress and walked into the kitchen. "I'm sure He already knows."

"Fuck ye, Conn," Murphy gave him a stern look as he poured the milk over his cereal. But the stern look turned into a huge grin when he realized that the powder blue hat was still strapped onto his brother's head. "Jesus, Conn. That hat really does bring out the color a yer eyes."

Connor scowled and ripped it off his head, grumbling something about powder blue being for pansies and not proper atop a man's head. Murphy giggled and sat at the small table, starting to eat his bowl of cereal. Connor went through a few drawers, seemingly unsatisfied with what he found.

"I just need a good cup a coffee," he muttered, checking the lonely looking coffee maker on the counter. "There's some ready ta be made. Think yer lass would mind if I started it?"

"She's not me lass, Conn," Murphy retorted, taking another bite.

"Fine," Connor replied, a devious smirk crossing his face. "Maybe she'll be mine then."

Murphy's eyes widened before he glared at Connor. "Ye won't touch 'er, ye son of a bitch!"

"Ye do realize - "

"Ah, shut it," Murphy grumbled. "I know what I said an' I know we're twins. Ye still know what I meant."

"Aye, I do," Connor laughed, deciding to turn the coffee pot on before moving over to stand against the wall. "What ye meant was tha' ye really do want the lass, but she's got ye twisted up in so many knots, ye're afraid ye'll make a fool a yerself."

"Thank ye fer yer stunnin' observation, Dr. Phil," Murphy scoffed before scooping up another spoonful of cereal.

"Ye know what I'd be afraid a if I were ye," Connor said, sounding very concerned.

Murphy knew it was probably a trick. He'd done it on several occasions to Connor himself, but he just couldn't keep from looking up with a curious expression. "What?"

"I'd be worried 'bout blowin' another hole in the ozone layer once that milk starts ta kick in, ye lactose intolerant git," Connor started to laugh.

"I swear ta God, Conn," Murphy growled, filling his spoon up again. "One more word out a ye an' I'll…"

Murphy's threat was interrupted by the sound of sweet giggling. He paused; mouth hanging open prepared for the spoonful of cereal and looked over to find Fey standing just inside the kitchen. The cereal fell from Murphy's spoon as he stared at her, mouth unable to close. Christ, she was even more beautiful in the sunlight. She had on a long white robe that was tied at the waist, but peeking out were green pajama bottoms with the Guinness emblem stamped all over them and realistic-looking bunny slippers. Her hair was mussed all over her head, twisted in some places and puffed out in others, completely wild. It was the sexiest thing Murphy could remember seeing, and the smile on her face made it slightly hard for him to breathe.

"You guys are horrible to each other," she laughed, walking over to the counter as she shook her head lightly.

"We're brothers, we're supposed ta be," Connor replied. "There's an obligation ta be even worse since we're twins an all."

"Twins, huh," she smiled at him, then looked at Murphy. He still hadn't managed to get the spoonful of cereal in his mouth. She looked slightly concerned as she asked "Is the cereal okay, Murphy?"

He just stared at her a moment longer, knowing he was blushing. But Connor reached out and swatted him in the back of the head.

"Fey asked ye a question, Murph," he chuckled.

"Oh, aye," Murphy nodded sheepishly, putting the spoon back in the bowl and pushing it all away from him. "It's just fine."

"Then why aren't you finishing it," she asked, walking over to the table with her own bowl. Her voice sounded so sweet and worried, like she was prepared to comfort him if he said he was sick. Thinking about it a second, Murphy was sure having her to comfort him would be worth a day or two in bed with a cold.

"It's not polite," he managed to say, shaking his head a little and glancing up at her before looking down again.

Fey looked utterly confused when she sat down at the table across from him. "What?"

"What Murph means ta say is," Connor began, reaching over to ruffle his brother's hair, much to Murphy's annoyance. "That it's not polite ta eat in front of a lady when she's not eatin' as well."

"Oh," Fey smiled, although Murphy could detect the barest hint of sarcasm in her voice. He looked up and found her smiling warmly at him. "Well, that's very gentlemanly of you Murphy. But I'm getting ready to eat as well, so you can finish."

Murphy could feel his cheeks blushing and he absolutely hated it. Making a fool of himself and his brother was absolutely no help at all. In fact, Connor had a way of making things worse just for fun. He pulled the bowl back to him with a soft nod and watched as Fey poured milk into her bowl.

"Ye know what's really not polite," Connor said, a devious smile on his lips. "The way Murph'll be passin' gas by this afternoon from the milk he's drinkin'."

Murphy was prepared to lunge after his chuckling brother when Fey started giggling again. "It's okay guys, really. I'm lactose intolerant, too."

He sat back down and looked at her curiously. "But ye're drinking milk with yer cereal."

"Yeah," she nodded. "So trust me when I say you can't make the place smell any worse this afternoon than I will. Better out than in, I always say."

He grinned at her as he took another bite of his cereal, giving Connor a dirty look which made his brother's smile widen. Fey had started eating as well, but after a moment, she looked up at Connor.

"Aren't you going to eat," she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I hope ye don't mind, but I started yer coffee," he replied.

Murphy rolled his eyes. "Conn's not much of a breakfast person."

"Cup a coffee's fine fer me," Connor retorted.

"Well," Fey began with a smirk; making both men look at her. "There's real cream in the fridge, and whiskey in the cupboard above it."

Both brothers started laughing, and Murphy did his damnedest not to squirt milk out his nose. He managed to swallow his mouthful before giving his brother a proud grin. "She really does know 'er Irish."

"Aye, she does," Connor nodded. "But I prefer me coffee black first thing in the mornin'."

"Suit yourself," Fey shrugged, grinning at Murphy.

And he could honestly admit that he loved that smile on her face. As they continued eating, and Connor poured his coffee, Murphy found he could barely look away from her. Having slept off his drunkenness, he was much quicker to look away whenever her eyes turned to him. But she still caught him sometimes, their eyes locking for just a second before Murphy looked away. He was always the one to look away first because he really didn't want her to think he was some kind of creep. Plus, he was a little worried that if she looked at his eyes long enough, she'd somehow be able to tell just what he was thinking about her. And at the moment, his thoughts were on how good it had felt when she was pressed against him on the cold walk to her apartment the night before and that wonderful giggle of hers.

"So, Fey," Connor said around his cup of coffee, startling Murphy out of his thoughts. "Ye live 'ere all by yerself?"

"No," Fey shook her head. "I live here with friend. She's gone for the next couple of days to visit her parents for their anniversary."

"Well, isn't that sweet a 'er," Connor replied. "An' does she approve a ye bringin' home strangers?"

Murphy would have glared at his brother, but he did have a point. As appreciative and happy as he was to have been taken in by Fey the night before, it really wasn't a very good idea on her part. He could just imagine her doing the same with someone who were not as good or well-intentioned as him and his brother. The idea of her being hurt sent a shudder through him. But Fey just smirked gently as she looked at Connor.

"Sometimes the benefits outweigh the risks," she answered, then glanced at Murphy, which made his heart skip a beat.

"The fuck's that supposed ta mean," Connor asked, sounding harsher than Murphy would have liked him to.

The smile left Fey, and Murphy could have hit him for that. But the seriousness she took on was quite alarming and it drew all of his attention as she started to speak. "I've been an excellent judge of character since I was very little. I knew the moment I laid eyes on the both of you, that you were good men."

"Gut instinct shouldn't take the place a caution, Fey," Connor reminded gently.

"I know," she nodded. "But having met you guys came in handy when Robbie decided to get plastered and Valenti showed up. That bastard was just hoping I'd get drunk last night so he could take advantage of me."

Murphy's gut twisted at that idea, making him want to clench his hands into fists and pound them into Valenti's face. Fey's smile returned as she glanced up at him, then back to Connor.

"Besides," she said, taking another bite of cereal. "I'm very good at taking care of myself."

"Really," Connor chuckled, sipping at his coffee.

Fey nodded. "A girl doesn't grow up in a city like this and not know how to take care of herself. If you had turned out to be bad men, you might have taken me down, but it would have taken both of you. And both of you would have been bad off by then end of it."

Murphy couldn't help but smile at her confidence. He just couldn't imagine Fey getting into a fight with anyone. But he supposed looks did have a way of being deceiving. He finished off his cereal and looked at the leftover milk in the bowl. Connor was right about the flatulence. If Murphy drank the rest of the milk, he undoubtedly would be adding to the pollutants in the air later that afternoon. And hoping no one lit a match near his rear end. Looking up, he saw Fey watching him. She gave him a wink before picking up her bowl and drinking the milk out of it. Murphy grinned and followed suit.

"Christ," Connor muttered into his coffee cup. "I'll be smellin' it all afternoon."

Fey giggled, standing and picking up Murphy's empty bowl to carry it to the sink. "Then we'll have a contest. I'll bring a lighter, and we'll see who can make a blue flame with their farts."

Connor, who had been taking a sip of coffee, snarfed it loudly at her remark, making Murphy practically scream in laughter. Christ, this woman was entirely too amazing. She came over, a big grin on her face, and shoved a towel into Connor's chest as he tried to recover himself.

"Clean yourself up, Connor," she laughed, before turning to Murphy. When their eyes met, his laughter died away, and he was just lost for a moment staring at her beautiful face, wanting so much to close the distance between their lips. She reached out and grabbed his chin gently, giving a little shake as if to gain his attention as she grinned. "And you, sir, need to go get your shoes on. After I get dressed we're headed back down to the pub."

"Aye," Murphy nodded, reaching up to touch her hand on his face. Her smile suddenly faded, and she blushed badly, as if just realizing she was touch him. It took him a second to notice that he was clutching her fingers gently. Fey started to move her hand away, and Murphy didn't want her to. In fact, he wanted to shout that he never wanted her to take her hands off of him. Her touch was soothing and exciting all at the same time.

But then her hand slipped from his, and she looked away as if embarrassed. Murphy took a deep breath and wondered what in the world she had to be embarrassed about. She was so close to heavenly, even as she turned away from him and headed for what he assumed to be her bedroom. He heard Connor chuckling as he stared after her, but didn't really care.