A series of BDS drabbles I wrote for a friend.
"What's that?" Connor looks up from his mug of coffee just in time to catch a small box that Murphy lobs at him from the doorway as he steps into their dingy, one roomed, and now freezing apartment. He shakes it, turning it from one side to another, but doesn't yet actually open the box.
"A Christmas gift from the landlady." Murphy responds, stripping his gloves off his hands and crossing the room to dig in the cupboard in hopes of finding a clean cup. "She's nice enough to give us a gift, but too stingy to turn on the heat."
Connor snorts, but strips off the paper and opens the gift. From where Murphy stands at the counter, he has his back to Connor. He does not see as his brother reaches into the box and pulls out two long strips of brightly colored woven material spun into bold, intricate patterns.
When his brother begins to laugh, Murphy's attention is drawn and he turns to behold the hand-knitted-with-love monstrosities that he has, by some grave mistake, allowed to enter their apartment.
"Well isn't that pretty?" Connor declares in a high falsetto, waving the scarves in the air in front of him. They are the epitome of vile; one is a horrifying combination of olive green and orange and the other containing an overwhelming amount of aqua. "You'll look like a regular celebrity wearin' these!"
Connor prances across the room and drapes the scarves around Murphy's neck with a flourish. The ends fall to the floor, and Murphy scowls, ripping the ugly things off his neck and throwing them back at Connor rather violently.
"Don't forget one of them is yours, ya fag." Murphy snarls.
"You didn't care about that last night" Connor grins, all teeth as he picks up the scarves and drapes them around his own neck and bats his eyelashes.
"Dick." Murphy says, halfheartedly, but doesn't resist when his brother closes the distance between them and silences him with a kiss. Nor does he protest a few moments later when Connor suggests they put the scarf to better use.
