DISCLAIMER: I own nothing!
A/N: I've planned this to be a series of one-shots, some set before the movies and some during them. Rated for later language. My first Boondock Saints fic. Please be kind.
1983
Annabelle MacManus's dreams of her boys being able to know their father had not come true; Noah had been sent to prison for murder, a sentence of at least 25 years. She and the twins, Connor and Murphy, still lived in the same small house that she and Noah had lived in since their marriage. Although the local church was kind enough to help with the boys' upkeep and Annabelle herself worked as a school secretary, she didn't have enough money to buy bunk beds or separate beds for the twins. Connor and Murphy shared, not only their room, but the bed as well. The sleeping arrangement had been causing problems as of late. Connor and Murphy favored different sides of the bed, but both liked to sleep sprawled across the mattress. They were also growing rapidly. Every couple of weeks, the already narrow bed seemed to shrink a little more.
On this particular night, Murphy, the darker-haired twin who always slept on the right-hand side, was squashed almost completely against the wall. His brother Connor, whose hair was a sandy color and who slept on the left side, began to toss and turn; his movements pulled the comforter away from Murphy.
"Conn, stop it," Murphy mumbled, his thick Irish accent slurring his words.
He tugged the blanket away from Connor, toward his own side of the bed, and closed his eyes. Murphy was nearly asleep when the blanket was yanked completely off him. He dragged it back, less gently this time.
"Conn!" Murphy's voice was louder and firmer. "Quit hoggin' the damn blanket!"
"I'm cold, Murph," Connor mumbled sleepily, his accent as thick as his twin's.
"Then go get anoder blanket," said Murphy, rolling over and pinning the quilt beneath his side so Connor couldn't jerk it loose again.
"You get anoder," Connor retorted.
Murphy shook his head. "'M too tired t' get up." He couldn't resist adding, "I had a really big supper t'night."
He knew their mother had seen Connor sitting on the discipline bench outside the school headmaster's office earlier in the day and discovered why he was there. Connor, it seemed, had taken to swearing in class and smoking in the boys' bathroom. Though Annabelle MacManus swore like a sailor and was a chain-smoker herself, she refused to tolerate the boys misbehaving at school. She had punished Connor by sending him to bed without dinner. It had been satisfying for Murphy to see his brother caught, because Murphy had the reputation of being the "bad" twin, even though he and Connor almost always got into mischief together. And at least half the time, Connor had planned whatever it was that got them into trouble.
"Ma made lamb stew; 'twas nice an' thick. 'N she baked up some fresh soda bread," Murphy went on. "An' fer dessert, there was a big plate o' gingersnaps." He knew that last bit would definitely get a rise out of Connor; gingersnaps were his favorite dessert.
"Why don'cha jus' shut the hell up, Murph?" snapped Connor. He had been able to smell the meal from their bedroom.
"Is tha' any way t' speak t' yer older broder?" asked Murphy lightly.
Connor didn't need to be able to see his brother's face to know he was smirking; the tone was evidence enough.
"Don' even start with that again. Fer all the two of us know, I'm the oldest."
Murphy was unable to think of a comeback for that, so he just ignored his twin. Connor shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable. He was halfway asleep when he felt a sharp slap on the back of his head. Connor couldn't stop himself from yelping in pain and surprise.
"What the hell was that for?" he demanded.
"Ye were snorin', Conn," Murphy replied.
"I don' snore, Murph."
"Well, ye were. An' ye bet'er not do it again. I'm tryin' to sleep."
Murphy rolled onto his other side, facing the wall and further entangling himself in the blanket. Connor, completely uncovered now, felt blindly behind him for the quilt. Suddenly, the same rumbling noise Murphy had heard a few minutes earlier broke the silence in the bedroom.
"I toldja t' shut it, Conn," Murphy said in an angry whisper.
"I ain't snorin', all right, Murph?" Connor's voice was much louder. "Now gimme some o' the blanket. I'm gonna freeze ta death."
"Ye were snorin'," Murphy argued, elbowing his brother in the back. "Noise's comin' from yer side o' the bed."
Connor retaliated by kicking the back of Murphy's knee. He couldn't help that his stomach was growling so loudly. Murphy lost his temper, got on top of Connor, and held him in a wrestling lock. Connor struggled to get loose; a wildly flailing arm connected with the lamp on the bedside table. The lamp fell to the floor with a crash. Connor managed to get free, but fell backwards off the bed with a loud thump. Murphy joined him on the floor and they resumed wrestling.
Suddenly, the bedroom door flew open. Annabelle MacManus stood in the doorway wearing a floral-printed bathrobe and a scowl, her curly red hair practically standing on end. She swiftly crossed the room and pulled the twins apart; both were out of breath, Murphy sporting a bloody nose.
"Boys," she said in a low, dangerous voice.
"Murph started it!" Connor shouted.
"Like hell I did, Conn," said Murphy, using his T-shirt to wipe his nose.
"Boys," said Annabelle in the same tone.
"Ma, Murph wouldn't share the blankets."
"Boys! I don' care who star'ed the damn fight. We've all got t' be up in the mornin' and I can' get me beauty sleep when you two are carryin' on like this." said Annabelle. "Any more ruckus tonight an' I'll come back in here an' I'll knock both yer heads t'gether. No fightin'! Promise me, boys."
"Yes, Mother," the twins grudgingly mumbled in unison.
"Well, there's my boys." she said with an expression that, for her, passed as a smile. She shuffled out of the room and added, "Yer both usin' yer pocket money t' pay fer that lamp."
THE END