Chapter 53 Thursday June 25th Well, there'll be no girl super-model or our boys perfection personified in this story… Do you know which scene Murph's stance is inspired from? And I just looked at my prospective timeline. Holy shit! The boys have completely derailed this from where I thought it was going. LOL

Making Amends

Crosby, Stills, and Nash – Southern Cross

Think about, think about how many times I have fallen
Spirits are using me, larger voices callin'
What Heaven brought you and me cannot be forgotten
I have been around the world; lookin' for that woman girl
Who knows love can endure; and you know it will

"M'girl?" I asked hesitantly, warily edging towards her to where she sat at the breakfast counter draped in a slinky yellow bathrobe a-riot with colorful flowers in contrast to the mood permeating the flat. Connor had sent me in first, hoping I might smooth things over for us which was questionable indeed. But I did it anyway. Twas Connor; him an' his fuckin' plans. I had donned my jeans and brushed my teeth as meager armor while my brother made faces at me, urging me to hurry. Now he wanted me to hurry after weeks of telling me fuckin' einfach. Fuck him and his mach schnell, einfach, mach schnell, einfach.

She didn't speak at first, head bent to her coffee, but I could tell she knew I was there by the slight tightening of her shoulders. She was probably going to treat me like a lit stick of dynamite after what she witnessed last night. Another wave of embarrassment swept over me and I could feel my pale skin flush and the tips of my ears burn with heat. We had fucked her six ways to Sunday and then I had cried and hit her and cried some more. Christ, what a ninny.

"Did I really say 'give me liberty or give me death'?" She asked, not looking at me, but I could see the corner of her mouth turn up. I coughed, trying to cover a laugh, not expecting these particular words from her.

"Aye, ye did. Twas funny." Vivid blue eyes framed with black hair swiveled to look at me with a piercing stare and her fingers gripped down on her cup. With crystal clarity, I remembered just how hot the coffee was when I splashed it on my chest just a few moments ago. I tried to look innocent, shuffling, not taking a step back, but hoping I looked endearing. I didn't know what to do with my hands and put them behind my back. The look used to work on Ma about fifty percent of the time; it might work now. She gave me another long level stare.

"Okay, twasn't funny," I back-pedaled swiftly, remaining just out of reach so as not to provoke her.

"Oh, no. It was funny." She sighed and lifted the hand she had on the coffee cup and held it out to me. "Connor isn't the only idiot in this place," she said deprecatingly. "Don't be afraid of me, Murph. Touch me."

"Afraid of ye? I'm no afraid o'ye. Yer no afraid o'me?" I asked, hesitating again, seeing the damage to her face that we had caused. I narrowed my eyes at her, knowing even as I did it that it frightened some women, making me look angry and forbidding. On others it worked just fine. This girl had pluck and it was one of the only things I didn't worry about here. But I was frightened for all of us at this point. Afraid I would fuck things up. Afraid I had already fucked things up. Afraid Connor was gonna kill me. Afraid he would die voliently in front of my eyes someday. I crossed myself in premonition.

"You? No. Of course not. You were dreaming, Murph." Without conscious thought, I moved toward her. My fingers touched hers and my hand curled, engulfing the warmth of her in my palm. She pulled me to her and laid her battered face on my chest, her hair a wild rat's nest of half-braided, honey soaked, and snot encrusted mess. It was wonderful. I bent my head over her, breathing her scent; the smell of us.

"Ye were right. Ye see inside me. I would risk me eternal soul t'not ha' t'live in a world wit'out him," I whispered softly and abruptly. The thoughts and words were pulled from me without volition.

"I know," she replied simply, her breath a sigh on my skin.

Ye'll do no such t'ing. Ever!

Shut the fuck up Connor. Ha' ye no bossed de bot' o'us around enough fer one twelve hour period?

Christ. Dinna even t'ink t'ings like dat!

Dinna even start wit me.

I'll say it again, Murph. Ye'll no be t'inkin' t'ings like dat.

Aye, well, dinna tell me ye haven't t'ought de same damn t'ing. Ye ferget I kin hear ye?

"Out loud. You're doing it again," she mumbled, rubbing her face against my bare chest, her breath tickling in my chest hair.

"Git ye arse out here, ye cladhaire," (coward) I muttered into her hair, rubbing her back in slow circles, the silk whisper smooth against my rough palms. Her hands came up around me, soft finger pads stroking the skin along my waist line.

"Am not!" There was a conspicuous silence. Then a muffled "Fuck it." Finally I heard him move, soft footfalls approaching.

"Lass? Are ye… Okay?" The shear amount of diffidence in his voice made me smile, my brash brother so cowed and me in good graces. Connor hovered in the bedroom doorway behind me, unwilling to risk her wrath at close range. She lifted her head at the sound of his voice and peered over my shoulder at him.

"Oh God, Connor. Fuck!" She sighed and dropped her head back on my chest with a solid thump. "Ow! Come here will you? Hold me?" He moved then, but went instead to the sofa.

Bring her here. I dinna want t'be doin' dis sittin' in a hard backed chair.

I sighed at his preemptory tone with me, but bowed to his logic. I lifted her and swung her into my arms, infinitely gentle in an effort to avoid hurting her further. Connor was on the sofa, half turned, his right leg against the back cushions. I laid her against his chest and his arms came up around her. The smell of nicotine on him started a screaming need for a cigarette in my head but I supressed it in lieu of staying with them. He just had to sneak a cigarette while I did all the dirty work. I scowled at him in envy.

Eh, you'll git yers. He shruggged without compassion as she curled up. She grunted, sitting up and pulling out of his embrace. Her fingers reached for his belt, working it loose.

"Are ye havin' an acute attack o'lust dere, Lass?" The humor was bright on his face covering his fear, but I could see desire banked at the back of his eyes as well.

"Not just at the moment, Connor, but I want to turn on my side. Your belt buckle will dig into my ribs." She grimaced dryly, "Why you thought clothes would be any help, I'm not sure." His hands brushed hers away and he slipped the belt off, dropping it on the floor. She nestled back into him, rootling her arm between his body and the sofa. He dropped his head over her, his eyes falling closed, looking completely vulnerable now that she couldn't see him. The look on his face made my heart squeeze. I could read every emotion stamped there like it was my own. While they settled, I retrieved another bag of frozen vegetables at random, steadfastly not looking through the doorway of the bedroom to the balcony where a smoke beckoned. I handed frozen corn to him with a wry grimace, a little too late to prevent the damage, but if she was hurting, better to be prepared. We'd lived through enough scraps and real fights to know better.

I wormed my way onto the couch with them, my face half pillowed on her tits and my arms around them both. It was a little precarious, but I threw a leg over them, anchoring us together. She sniffed, a hint of tears threatening; I really hoped she wouldn't cry. There'd been quite enough tears in this flat for one day.

"What's wrong den, Lassie?"

She shuddered and hissed a breath, a nearly silent sound with an underlying tinge of humor. Her fingers buried themselves in my hair, pulling me in closer. "I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Just about everything that could go wrong has. And everything that could go right has as well. I have to change the sheets and do laundry. I need a bath. I'm still half covered in honey, cherry juice, sex, and well…"

"Ye kin say it, m'girl. I snotted all over the place. Tis embarrassing, but I'll no die o'it."

"That too, Murph. I've just had the best sex of my life with two of the most complicated men on the planet."

I lifted my head and shared a look with my brother and he raised an eyebrow in return.

Best, aye? Ye heard her. Ha!

We done good.

"Stop mentally high-fiving each other. Male smugness does not become either of you." She squeezed us both repressively and continued, "Every muscle in my body is sore and I don't think I've ever been so bruised in so many places. My shoulders feel like they've been dislocated. My ass hurts. My face feels like it's on fire. And if that's not enough? I think I've broken my toe." I felt Connor's arm tighten around her in silent sympathy. He might be a dolt and a dope, but he had the right feelings with this one and knew when to keep his mouth shut. He handed me back the bag of corn and I gently touched it to her face. She frowned at me, batting it away.

"Ugh! No."

Whatever humor had been sustaining her, it died in her voice. A mix of irritation and distresss colored her tone as she continued, "But that's not the worst of it. I have two idiot Irishmen to deal with. One with a raging case of post-traumatic stress disorder." She gave me a meaningful look, letting me know I wouldn't get off so easy, but then turned her head up to look at my brother.

"And the other? A raging case of testosterone poisoning." Connor grunted, feeling the jab at his autocratic actions in calling her off from work. She turned back to me, her eyes so close I could see the 3D effect where her irises dissolved into her pupils. It seemed as if I could see into her soul and my breath caught painfully in my throat for a moment.

"The first? It may take some time to fix, but there is always hope. We'll figure it out, Murph. The three of us." She moved the bare inch it took to kiss me, her lips soft and gentle on mine.

She tilted her head once again to look at my brother and once again, her voice hardened in warning. "The other? I thought what we did last night would have at least solved the problem temporarily," she said tartly. "But apparently I was wrong. Fuck. Hold me tighter? I hate losing my temper."

"Well," Connor said in apology, "if it's any consolation, we're no in much better shape." His head thumped back on the arm of the sofa. "I called us off too, Murph. I'm in no condition t'work t'day an' neither are you."