Just an Ordinary Evening
Author: Nyx Midnight
Status: 1 of 1
Fandom: The Boondock Saints
Characters: Connor, Murphy
Warning: Bad language.
Disclaimers: The Boondock Saints belongs toFranchise Films and Troy Duffy. No kitties were harmed during the making of this story.
Feedback: Yes please! Critiques welcomed.
Written for Chartophile for Yuletide 2004.
Connor bitched and moaned as he half-dragged a limping Murphy into their filthy apartment, slightly bowing under the weight of his twin. “Now you repeat after me, ya bastard: We do not jump in front of a gun, for fucking bad things come out of the fucking barrel!!!”
Murphy rolled his eyes as he shoved the door opened wider with his foot to spare his wounded wrist. “Would you quit yer fuckin’ whinin’ already? It’s just a flesh wound!”
“A fucking flesh wound that needed five staples, three stitches and a fucking cast!” Connor shouted, barely resisting the urge to slap Murphy’s broken wrist in emphasis. “I know we’re on a mission from God, but do you think you could try to AVOID getting to Heaven ahead of schedule???”
Murphy just rolled his eyes again, still on a pleasant buzz from the painkillers and a tiny bit of leftover aesthetic. Everything was fine, nothing hurt, he was alive and with his dear brother, as ever. As always. Like it should be. And with Connor worrying himself sick for him, again. “Connor, Connor, Connor… why, I didn’t know you cared…”
Now growling, Connor unceremoniously dropped his twin brother down on his bed. “You’re so… so… if ma was here, she’s smack ya upside the head for doin’ somethin’ so fuckin’ stupid!” He didn’t know what irritated him more: the fact that Murphy had done something so reckless, or the knowledge that he’d do it all over again at the first occasion. It was so… just so loving and touching and it pissed him off to no end every time.
His indignation only earned him an amused chuckled from his twin, who fluttered his eyelashes. “Sure… now bring some water to your poor, poor wounded brother, would ya?”
Connor growled again, almost showing teeth, and stomped away. A few moments later, Murphy was torn from the light slumber he was drifting into by the ominously rattling and clanking of the water pipes system, then again almost immediately after the awful rumble had stopped by cold water splashing on his face. He bolted up and out of bed, sputtering, gasping and wiping the water off, shocked out of his buzz. “Connor!!!”
Connor grinned the grin of the wicked and proud… that is, until Murphy jumped on him, growling. “Ya fuckin’ asshole!!!”
The twins wrestled each other to the ground, growling and snarling like dogs, Murphy using his cast like a mace, Connor aiming for Murphy’s weak hand. The fight was intense, arms and legs hitting and kicking blindly, but soon ended with Murphy cradling his wrist, groaning, and Connor cradling Murphy, rocking him a bit. “Ow… fuck… shit… hurts…” Murphy hissed between clenched teeth.
Connor couldn’t resist, but still spoke softly as he rubbed Murphy’s shoulder. “That’s what you get for being a naughty boy.”
“Shut yer fuckin’ trap,” Murphy grumbled, slapping Connor’s stomach lightly with his good hand.
With a soft chuckle, Connor slowly rose, then helped Murphy back to bed. Once his twin was more or less lying on the narrow mattress, he walked away to get a glass of water and more painkillers, making the pipes creak and rumble in agony again. This time, though, he handed the water to Murphy properly.
Murphy slightly raised an eyebrow before taking the pills. “What, decided that throwing water up my nose might not be the way to go?”
Connor lightly slapped his head. “Drink it and fall asleep already so you quit whining, would ye?”
Murphy almost choked on his water. “Whining? Me? Look who’s talking.”
“Oh shut up. Whiny,” Connor replied as he rolled his eyes and lay down on his bed, his back turned to his twin.
“You’re the whiny one,” Murphy mumbled as he drifted away. “I’m the smart one.” And he fell asleep to the sound of Connor’s laughter, rising from the other side of the room.
When Connor went to the bathroom to relieve himself the next morning, scratching his tousled hair and yawning, he was greeted by the rather unsettling sight for a numb mind of Murphy’s casted arm sticking out of the bath, making him blink several times. “Murphy?”
“What now, brother dearest?”
Connor blinked again. “Oh, so you ARE still attached to the other end of that arm.”
Murphy snorted, then groaned as he flexed his fingers. “Sure wish I could unscrew it and put it away for a while right now…”
Connor chuckled as he emptied his bladder, trying to keep his aim straight.
“You are not pissing while I’m in the bath, are you?” Murphy asked.
The only answer Murphy got was a loud fart and more laughter.
“Oh my fuckin’ God, you pig! I’m gonna die asphyxiated in my bed and it’s gonna be yer fault!!!”
Connor had to sit down. He was laughing much too hard to stay up. Wiping tears from the corner of his eyes, he almost laughed himself sick as he watched Murphy’s injured arm flail around angrily.
“This isn’t funny, bro! Seriously, it’s like yer fuckin’ rottin’ inside!”
“Yeah, ’cuz you don’t make the paint peel off the walls when you fart.”
A half-casted hand pointed at him threateningly. “I do not.”
Connor rose and snorted as he walked to the tiny decrepit sink to brush his teeth. “Lyin’s a sin, Murph.”
Murphy grumbled a bit, then stepped out of the bath and grabbed a towel to dry himself. “So what’s the plan for today?”
“Today, you get to enjoy my wonderful and charming company, as well as my delicious cooking,” Connor replied, grinning a freshly brushed grin.
Murphy looked at him blankly. “If I had my two hands, bro, I’d fucking strangle you with this towel.”
“Now now, I’m your dearest brother, aren’t I?”
Murphy snorted and pushed him away from the sink with his body, grabbing his toothbrush. “So were Cain and Abel. Now get outta my way, that crap you gave me last night leaves the worst aftertaste ever.”
Connor just grinned and left. One more point for him. He should feed Murphy painkillers more often; it dulled his wit. And it was a good thing they loved each other, because otherwise, given how often they found themselves armed to the teeth, they’d be long dead at each other’s hands.
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