staring down the sun

[21] got my veins all tangled closed

"I fucking knew it," Murphy exclaims quietly, barely a beat after Elena shuts the bathroom door.

Connor rolls his eyes as he steps into his jeans. He tightens the belt low on his hips, trying not to think about what could have happened had Murphy not interrupted. Not the first time his brother had been an unintentional cock block. And to be fair, Connor has returned the favor on a few occasions. They had a system like if they were in a college dormitory, where they'd tie a sock around the doorknob of their shitty loft. Get a girl drunk enough, she didn't care where they fucked.

One time, Connor forgot to tie the sock on the door, and in stumbled drunken Murphy while Connor sat naked on the worn couch cushions with some blonde chick riding his dick. Murphy busted up laughing, the girl screamed, and Connor practically threw her across the floor when he stood up fast, covering his condom-clad erection with both hands. The blonde clumsily got dressed, and her skirt caught itself in the waistband of her panties. Murphy couldn't stop laughing and helped himself to a beer while Connor threw every "fuck you" in every language they know. He threw his boxers back on, only for the condom to slide off his limp dick and stick to the inside of his underwear like a clear latex leech.

He chased the blonde down the stairs, only to realize he had forgotten her name anyway. She flipped him off and yelled "Asshole!" before she disappeared down their alley, leaving Connor standing in just his underwear for all of their neighbors to see. An all-Irish neighborhood would never speak a word about one of their own to the police, but they sure loved to talk about that condom falling out of the MacManus boy's boxer shorts.

Just as well that it didn't work out with that blonde. He prefers brunettes anyway.

The shower running breaks his train of thought, and Connor realizes he'd give anything to be that water right now, rolling down Elena's skin, soothing her. Fuck. He shakes the thought out of his mind before it travels through his veins.

"What, ye got nothing to say?" Murphy probes, his face impatient.

Connor pulls his shirt over his head and gives his brother a sharp glare. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Oh fuck ye," Murphy groans, throwing up two fingers in a backward V. "Any other time ye'd run yer mouth 'til my ears are bleeding."

Any other time it would be different. Connor feels every muscle tighten as he turns away. "Fucking shut it, Murph."

"Fine. Don't say anything. But I know ye. I fucking know ye better than anyone. Ye love—"

Connor whips back around, pointing his finger right in Murphy's face. "I fucking mean it. Shut. Up."

But Murphy shoves Connor. "Fucking make me."

The anger boils over inside Connor, and he immediately wraps his arm around Murphy's neck to put him in a headlock. Murphy grabs at his brother's waist, pushing Connor to the floor. Connor doesn't go down easy though, as he throws his fist into Murphy's side and rolls on top of him.

The boys don't hear the bathroom door open, only Elena yelling at them, and that doesn't even make them stop fighting. "What the fuck!" she barks as she pushes them away from each other.

"He fucking started it!" Murphy cries.

"The fuck I did!" Connor jumps up, breathing heavy as Elena's hand presses onto his chest, holding him in place. "Ye started it, ye fucker!"

Their arguing escalates again, but Elena throws her hands over each MacManus mouth, muffling the incessant cursing. "Stop," she calmly orders them.

Her hair is still damp and slightly wavy as it brushes her shoulders, and Connor blushes at the thought of weaving his fingers through those brown tresses again. She drops her hands, shaking her head at both of them with disgust.

Connor slumps his shoulders, feeling incredibly ashamed in front of Elena. He looks up at Murphy without raising his chin and sees the same humiliation on his brother. "I'm sorry, lass," Connor mutters pitifully.

"Aye," Murphy agrees, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. "Me too."

The twins look at Elena, seeing her face shift to that quiet forgiveness they've seen too many times to count.

Her cell phone buzzes on the table, and she flips it open, reading whatever text message just came in. "Looks like we're not going back to the church just yet," she explains.

"Why? What's going on?" Murphy asks.

Elena shakes her head as she steps into her boots. "Not sure until I get to a payphone." She readjusts the hem of her black t-shirt over the waistband of her jeans, covering the bit of skin that had peeked out in her rush to stop the boys from fighting.

Connor swallows hard, his anxiety rising in his throat as he watches Elena and Murphy pack up their bags.

. . .

Elena climbs out of the back of the car, looking around the surroundings carefully as she approaches the payphone across the street. Connor props his elbow up on the door, keeping his other hand on the steering wheel just in case as he watches Elena pick up the phone. The cool morning air breezes through the slightly rolled-down windows, whisking Elena's voice away as she makes the call.

"Ye know ye don't have to hide what yer feeling. Not from me," Murphy speaks up softly.

Connor blinks and looks out the windshield, avoiding eye contact with his brother while the truth strangely falls out of his mouth. "It's not that I want to hide it...it's that I...I don't know what to do with it."

He feels Murphy shift in his seat and take a deep breath. "Just let yerself feel it, then." He sounds so sure, so confident that the answer was actually that simple.

Connor looks back toward Elena, rubbing his cheek as he exhales slowly. Waking up next to her, holding her...it might have been the peace he's been wanting for so long.

She presses her lips together as she crosses the street back to the car, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets. The car rocks a bit as she slides in the back seat, the door slamming shut while she hands a torn piece of paper to Connor. "That's where we're going next," she confirms as he reads over the handwritten address.

"Seriously?" Murphy groans, twisting his neck to look at her. "Ye think it's a good idea to go after New York's finest?"

Elena had told them about the unofficial-official cop bar in New York. O'Malley's. Of fucking course it had an Irish name. They drove by it on the way to hit Lombardo, and Elena explained how she had met a vice cop there before going deep undercover with the Russians. He gave her a lot of information on the crime syndicate, who to watch, and why law enforcement kept striking out on taking them down. Unfortunately, that answer was the same old tragic tale: dirty cops and miles of red tape.

Connor sees the hint of fear in Elena's eyes in the rearview mirror. "None of this is a good idea, Murph," she calmly retorts. "But we need to find out whatever we can...see just how far this goes..."

Her voice trails off, and Connor feels the words flow out of his mouth without reservation. "So we can stop it."

He looks at his brother, that stubborn MacManus sense of righteousness reflecting back as Murphy's lips curl slightly.