A/N: The events at the very end of this story are based on actual events that transpired one night while my older brother and I were out one night. I do a lot of little nods to my brother in my writing; this is one of the more obvious. Takes place before the events of the first movie. This is unbeta'd, no pre reader, and could fit with the rest of my arc, but was written as a stand alone. Rocco doesn't get enough props, so I thought I'd take a crack at it.

All recognizeable content herein is the property of its respective owners. The remaining content is mine.

Rocco was never really aware of how quickly time passed until his little sister, Gina, came home from college. When he'd seen her off on her four-year adventure, she'd been a regular tomboy, used to taking a ribbing from the guys her brother hung out with, wearing baggy jeans and his old t shirts while stuffing her thick, dark waves up into her father's worn Red Sox cap. She'd had a wide, albeit gap-toothed, smile, a nose that was almost too big for her face, thick, bushy brows, and green eyes that were usually hidden behind wire-framed glasses. She'd been chubby, too, despite her constant participation in shinny during the harsh New England winters, and pick-up baseball in the humid summers. All in all, Gina Della Rocco wasn't anything spectacular. When Rocco showed up at Geno and Donna Della Rocco's home for Gina's welcome home party, he was greeted with the same short, dark haired girl, with awkward glasses, her long hair in a braid over one shoulder, and her father's Red Sox cap still sitting firmly on her head. He hugged her close, gave her a fine ribbing, and then ate his fill of his mama's putanesca and panna cotta, and dozed off in front of the TV while his father took in the Bruins game.

"Hey, Funny Man."

Rocco snorted awake and swatted at the fingers that flicked his nose. He growled and opened his eyes to see Gina standing over him with a brilliant smile.

"Jesus, Gina, I haven't slept for, like, a week."

Gina frowned and clipped her brother across the head. "That's for blasphemy," she announced.

Rocco rolled his eyes and sat up with a huff, mumbling something about getting it on both sides. Gina made another face, unsure of his reference, and then flopped onto the couch next to him. "Let's go out."

He fumbled for a cigarette and shot his sister a wary glance. "Whaddya mean?"

Gina's eyes widened. "Whaddya mean, 'Whaddya mean'? I wanna go out, Rocco. C'mon, I haven't been home for four years, I wanna see the neighbourhood. Any new faces?"

Again, Rocco grumbled something, and then pushed his hands through his hair. "I dunno, Gina, yeah…I suppose so." He gave her a once over. "You wanna change, maybe?" He fingered a dried splash of spaghetti sauce on her white t shirt.

"Yes!" She sprang up from the couch with a giggle. "God, I was starving," she explained, motioning to the stains on her shirt. "I don't eat like that in college, you know."

He thought maybe Gina did look a bit more angular in the face, but he still couldn't see much past the glasses or the ball cap. He then cast a glance about the living room, suddenly wondering where his father was. He was sure that Geno Della Rocco wouldn't let his precious Gina out of his sight, now that she was home.

"They're asleep." Gina checked her watch. "It's after ten."

"Kinda late," Rocco stated, even though he stood from the couch and stretched.

"Rocco, I'm twenty-two. I don't really think a curfew applies to me."

"That why you waited until Pop was asleep before ambushing me?"

Gina sighed and waved him off. "Whatever. Give me half an hour okay?"

"Yeah, all right," Rocco muttered, heading to where he'd left his bag by the door.

"And call some people, or something," Gina ordered as she neared the staircase.

"Yeah, okay," Rocco groused. Jesus Christ, she'd been gone for four years and she was still bossing him around. Younger sibling or not, Gina certainly had the power of persuasion where Rocco was content to be an idle bystander.

When Gina had stolen up the staircase, Rocco slid to the kitchen and picked up the phone. There were only two guys he knew would be up for some late night carousing, and who would know a good place to go. He dialed from memory and grinned as the familiar voice came over the phone. "Yeah, both of you," he eventually conceded with a sigh. "McGinty's. About an hour. Yeah, we're walking. Who? Oh, my sister. I'm sure I've mentioned her. Well, she's home from college – what the fuck is with the third degree? I'll see you two micks in an hour, okay?" He dropped the phone back in the cradle and slipped into the spare room past the kitchen to change. He'd fumbled through a clothing store with Sal earlier and picked up a new pair of jeans. No better time to break them in, he decided.

Rocco had always been closer to Murphy than to Connor – it just sort of happened that way. The Italian had befriended the dark twin first, and they shared a similar sense of humor and a relaxed nature. Connor, the lighter-haired brother, always seemed a bit on edge. But whatever, Rocco could keep those two invested in his stories for hours, cracking jokes, telling stories, and drinking unhealthy amounts of beer and whiskey. So, when Rocco introduced the boys to his sister, he didn't really notice at first how the twins immediately gravitated towards her, and seemed to have a small battle of wills between the two of them in terms of who was going to sit next to her. In the end, Connor relented, sliding into the booth next to Rocco,but across from Gina, while Murphy crowded her on the other side. At least, it looked like Murphy was crowding her, to Rocco. She seemed to be none the wiser, taking everything – the worn, gouged table they were sitting at, the faded pictures from Southie back in its infancy, and the aged bartender with Tourette's syndrome – in with a wide eye, like she was taking notes to write an essay.

The twins were also taking everything in, making sure that they told their funniest jokes and anecdotes, although there were a few times where Rocco had to intervene, too embarrassed by his involvement with the twins' antics and what his mother would think if the stories ever got back to her via his sister – she had always been a bit of a tattler. That night, however, she looked between Connor and Murphy, waiting for one to top the other, and she giggled at the way they drew out words with their over-the-top brogue. Really, it wasn't that strong when they had first landed in America, but they always laid it on thick for the ladies. Gina seemed as taken by the boys as they were by her – they were novelties to each other, Rocco guessed, and he cleared his throat and edged into the conversation.

"So, I got new jeans," he stated, sticking a leg out the side of the booth to show off the aforementioned clothing. "Whaddya think?"

Gina rolled her eyes with a sigh – he'd been obsessing about them the whole walk over: were they too tight? Was the acid wash okay? Did they look okay with his boots? "I told you, Roc, they're fine," she reassured.

Connor shrugged. "Aye, they're nice enough, I guess," he answered, though it was a little lackluster.

Rocco frowned. Was... was Connor gazing into Gina's eyes?

Rocco looked to Murphy for the deciding vote. The darker twin seemed to be staring at Gina, too, which was strange because she hadn't said anything that spectacular. Rocco narrowed his eyes and kicked Murphy under the table. "Hey, Murph."

Murphy looked over, as if suddenly noticing that Rocco was there, and he blinked a few times. "Aye?"

Rocco rolled his eyes. "The jeans?"

Murphy looked back at Gina, drawing his blue gaze down and then back up with a grin. "Make her ass look great, I reckon." He leered and winked at Rocco.

The Funny Man sputtered and ran a hand through his wild hair. "What the fuck, Murph? Not her jeans, mine!"

Murphy grunted, non-committal. He then pursed his lips before tucking his thumbnail between his teeth and directing his gaze to Rocco's outstretched leg. With a shrug, Murphy glanced to the Italian. "They make ya look queer."

Silence followed, right until Connor burst out laughing, and then Murphy and Gina joined in.

"Ah, fuck the three of ya," Rocco growled, ducking his head and draining his pint. "I'm getting another," he huffed, standing from the booth.

Connor and Murphy hissed and threw wadded up napkins at him, making fun of his tantrum, and Gina giggled and rolled her eyes, muttering something about prissy older brothers. Rocco grinned tightly and raised both middle fingers, which resulted in more laughter, and then he turned to clamber up on a bar stool, waving Doc over.

"I had fun tonight," Gina announced to Rocco as they crossed the street from the bar and headed back towards their parents' house.

Rocco grumbled and then gave her a small grin. "Yeah, I'm sure Connor and Murph loved having you on their side. Giving me shit, and all that."

"Oh, come on, Rocco. You and Murphy ganged up on Connor at one point. And who was the one who told those micks about that time I got locked outside in my underwear the first time I got drunk?"

Rocco chuckled and threw an arm over his sister's shoulders, pulling her close. He pressed an affectionate kiss to the top of her head. "Good to have you back, kiddo," he muttered, before shoving her away.

Gina's fist glanced off his ribs as she swung at him, and they laughed and paused at the corner, waiting for the light to change.

A sleek, silver 5.0 rolled up in the intersection, windows and top down, and some ass-hat douche bag behind the wheel. Rocco immediately bounced up to his toes, his gaze steady, as the driver gave both him, and his sister, a once over. The driver revved the engine once, and then leaned over the door.

"Nice pants!" he called out, grinning widely. The light changed and he slowly started to pull away.

Rocco groaned, and glanced back down at his jeans. First thing tomorrow, he was taking them back. He wasn't in the mood to start anything, so he merely looked back to the driver and nodded. "Thank you," he called out sarcastically, giving a mock salute on the way.

The brake lights turned cherry red as the driver paused, and seconds later, he leaned up and back over his seat, and called out loud and clear, "I wasn't talking to you, idiot!" He then howled with laughter, dropped back into his seat, and peeled off the line, and into the night.

Gina squawked and then snorted, her laughter bubbling out.

Rocco looked to her, then to his jeans, and then to the fading brake lights. "What the hell was that supposed to mean?"

Gina scowled, and then rolled her eyes. "Really, David." She started up the street, her long, dark curls swinging down her back. That was when Rocco noticed it – and maybe he had noticed all along, but had been trying his hardest to not notice, because this was his sister, and you weren't supposed to notice those things about your sister: Gina had grown up. And out. And she had curves like a woman, and wore tight, faded jeans, and a snug sweater that did nothing to hide the fact that she had those curves. She'd put on make up, too, Rocco finally realized, and she hadn't worn her glasses, and Jesus, when had she grown into her features and looked so…so…

Yer sister's fuckin' cute, Roc, Connor's voice came fluttering back from earlier in the night.

Make her arse look great, I reckon, had been Murphy's observation.

Was it just Rocco, or had those two boys been very interested in his little sister?

It slapped him in the face, as Gina swung her head to look back at him in question. Gina Della Rocco had grown into a fine-looking woman, and guys were starting to notice. Guys like Connor and Murphy MacManus. Rocco groaned heavily, almost pained. "Fuck my life," Rocco sighed. But if either of them touched a hair on her head…he'd kill them both, and then kill himself, just so he could go after them again.