Nicholas: Challenge of Becki, because I does as I is told. Heh, anyway...I'm not good at writing masturbation...Now that I've left you with that thought, enjoy the twins after a hard day at work.

We'd been doin' odd jobs fer some time now, anywhere we could find work—minimum wage shite, stuff like that. I don't like the idea of it being that half o' the things I've been doin' lately're really hard work an' sometimes seem like the people givin' me the job should get a specialist er somethin'. This lady had me work the terrain on her entire front yard by meself an' that damn job took me three days. What did I get for that? Collectively, a hundred and forty-three dollars, but that was because among other shite I had ta do, I only got six hours in on it the first day (39) and five the next day (32.50). So by the time that seventy-one dollars and fifty cents was split dutifully amongst what I needed it fer (rent, bills, and o' course cigarettes, liquor and food), I needed more. The third day I worked eleven hours with a half hour for lunch somewhere in the middle, and I don't think I've ever worked that hard in me life, to get another 71.50 so that I could go home with somethin' ta show fer meself. A lot o' bullshit, really.

One other thing that irks me is that because we're doin' jobs that really only need one person at times (or so they claim), I don' get ta work with Murphy. At first, I didn't think it would be as bad bein' that it was a chance fer us ta get more done, but then that first job…the guy I was workin' with caught me talkin' to meself. Then later I'd be walkin' alone an' I'd see someone that just barely resembled me brother an' as soon as I got excited, what d'ya know? Not him. Well, fuck me if bein' lonely en't heart-wrenchin'.

We met up at the bus stop as we usually did (not because be planned on takin' the damned thing, but because it was close to Murphy's job and my basic area of employment), and I knew the minute I saw him that his mood had much room to improve. "Y'alright, love?" I asked him quietly, once we'd got ta walkin' home.

"Yeah m'fine," he replied. O' course, I knew he was liyin'.

He fished out a pack o' cigarettes. It was almost empty so it must've been from yesterday or the day before, but he looked like he desperately needed a cigarette. Unfortunately, his was shakin'—probably needing ta smoke—and wouldn't hold the damn thing so he dropped it. Now that scared me: me brother, as far as I know, treasured smoking more than any o' his other daily activities (certainly not the nightly ones, however) and droppin' a cig was outta the question fer him.

"Yer definitely not fine," I said, as he just stared at the ground as if contemplatin' the lesser o' two evils. He had stopped walkin', as I expected him to, but when it came ta reachin' down an' pickin' up his fallen companion, he hesitated. "What is it?"

"Me back hurts."

Ah…so that's it then. Good, I was startin' ta get worried. A back ache was somethin' I knew Murph could handle (as opposed to fights he starts and never finish leadin' ta weird behavior like taday). "What'd ya do to it?" I bent over an' go the cigarette fer him—lit it too an' placed it in his mouth fer him.

"I'm not sure. Coulda been a lot o' things really."

I just let that sit, an' by the sound o' his voice, he preferred it that way. It wasn't just his back, somethin' had pissed him off. Feelin' like he didn't wanna talk about it, I just nodded an' went to put me arm around his shoulders as we started walkin' again.

"Wait, don't…"

"Oh right, sorry." Now that sucks. I didn't like not bein' able ta touch him. "I can't hold ya at all?"

After a moment, he took a long drag an' looked at me. Considering that he was in pain, the way that changed his expression (tweaking the corners of his mouth into a frown) made him look somewhat more…I don't know, what's the word? Pissed. I found it slightly intriguing. "Here," he said at length, reachin' out an' takin' me hand as we made our way down the street.

Once we finally did get home, me walkin' on two legs still only by the grace o' God, I decided that I didn't like how he let his hair grow out. "M'gonna cut yer hair," I decided. He just rolled his eyes in reply leavin' a bit of ambiguity ta whether he was okay with that. O' course, I didn't really care if he didn't want a haircut 'cause I sure as hell was gonna give him one either way. No matter how stubborn he tried ta be (which I know from experience could be like movin' an elephant), I would resort to tyin' him down.

"Why?" he asked.

"B'cause it needs it."

"Why?"

"S'too long."

"Why?"

"I'swear, Murph, if ya don' get yer arse over here an' stop askin' me why, I'm gonna fong ya 'til ya can't see strait. Never mind yer sore back." I glared at'im but only 'cause he was glarin' right back at me. We did that a lot—have little arguments like that—but they were never serious, an' he never quite looked at me like that. I assume it was the fact that he was hurt that just put'im in a sore fuckin' mood, but his eyes sorta bore inta mine makin' me wanna blink. "C'mere," I insisted once more.

When he stood, I was certain that the problem was his back. He straightened up awkwardly, standin' from his bed, an' walked over ta me, pullin' off his shirt since we didn't have a towel er anythin' ta catch the hair. "Don' fuck it up."

I don' know where he got the idea that I'd mess up his scraggly, messy, wild main more than it already was, but I didn't argue. It just gave me a quite laugh as I sat him down. I've cut his hair countless times b'fore (bein' that we can't really afford ta go ta a barber) an' I even cut my own when I can borrow a mirror from someone downstairs. "Shut the fuck up," I snapped with good humor, runnin' me fingers through those dark locks.

Liftin' the scissors, I started ta pull his head back, but as soon as he let out an uncomfortable whine an' shifted his stiff shoulders awkwardly I let him straighten his neck again. The haircut was my idea, so it wasn't really fair ta make it unpleasant fer him. Instead, I did most of the work as far as reachin' went, so I didn't have ta move his head so much—even squatted down behind him ta get at the base of his skull.

After a semi-warm shower ta get rid of all o' those itchy pieces of hair, an' once I'd swept up the mess of it off the floor, he was back in his boxers on his bed, smokin' his third cigarette since he'd been home. I noticed, as I was takin' off me shirt, that he didn't actually lay back—he just sorta sat there starin' at the wall, back bent, face scrunched up in a snarl. I went over ta his bed an' paused until I realized he wasn't gonna look up at me b'fore I bent down an' kissed his cheek (tho' I kinda missed his cheek an' kissed him on the jaw instead).

Murphy leaned his head against me an' I immediately blew warm air on his neck 'cause I know he likes it when I do that. I reached around him an' gently held his other shoulder so I could nuzzle against him, just ta feel him. "Ya feelin' any better?" I asked him.

"Not really."

"Well that's too bad…" I maneuvered ta where I was sittin' in front o' him on the bed. I pressed me lips against his lightly. "Anythin' I can do?"

"M'not too sure yet."

This time I kissed him a bit more insistently, cuppin' his chin in my hand an' trying ta be very careful as I let my other arm hold'im around the back. I didn't hear a complaint, so I moved closer ta his chest and pressed my lips ta his forehead. The movement pushed him back a bit so that he unfolded his legs from the crossed position, but then I think I pushed him back to far.

"Ow! Ow! Shit!" He pushed me away an' sat up again.

"Well, fuck I'm sorry!" I backed off, but don' think it's because of his pain. This was the last thing I would put up with havin' ta do different because he threw his back out. I was tired, an' turned on by now, an' I just wanted ta have a relaxin' night with me fuckin' brother. "That's it, Murph, lay down on yer stomach."

"What fer?"

"Just do it." I grabbed him an' "helped" him along a bit.

"Okay! Jesus, lay off, Conn." He turned around an' stretched out almost catlike on the mattress, layin' his head on his arms with a stiff stretch of his shoulders. "Happy? Now what?"

I climbed over his legs, careful not ta actu'ly sit on him, an' ran my hands up the soft, uneven, tense terrain that was his back. Pressin' down lightly at first on his shoulders, I leaned inta it. He hissed quietly, the pressure obviously a bit straining, but I kept on. I dug the heels o' my hands along his spine and that hiss unraveled into a delicate moan.

"Hm…where'd ya learn ta do that, Connor?"

My thumbs drew down the small of his back gently an' his only reaction was a quiet sigh. "I figure I know yer back well enough ta know what makes ye feel good." I kept massagin' him, workin' against those damned tight muscles o' his neck and shoulders an' I also slipped in the occasional caress, just to feel his skin under mine. He was pretty vocal about it for the most part, and when his pained whinin' turned ta happy groanin' I knew I'd done me job. Still…he seemed ta like it a lot.

I leaned down closer ta him, continuin' ta rub him where there may have still been kinks an' sore spots, an' I lapped lightly at the freshly trimmed hair on the base o' his neck. He didn't react at all, which I found strange. Maybe I was too good at what I did. "Ya still with me there, brother?"

"Ungh," he said. It was so quiet that I barely heard it.

"Murphy?"

This time he didn't reply at all. I poked his face lightly an' looked at his closed eyes. Fuck if he weren't asleep, the bastard. "Murphy!" An' he was deep asleep now because he didn't even flinch, an' man that pissed me off. I guess he deserved a good night's sleep, an' I needed one too, but…oh fine. I got off o' him an' retreated ta me own bed.

When I took off me jeans, I realized that I definitely wasn't goin' ta fall asleep as quickly as his ass did…so I took me shorts off as well and lay down, starin' a meself dismally (I'm sure ya know what o' meself I was starin' at). I didn't want ta get meself off, whenever I did I always felt cheated afterwards. So I got ta thinkin'.

I looked over an' saw Murphy droolin' on his arm an' I couldn't help but smile. I reached down an' wrapped by fingers around what me brother had left me with, and I got ta thinkin'. Tamorrow, I'm the one gettin' the fuckin' back rub.

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