A/N: This story deals with first experiences in the lives of the MacManus twins. I'm hoping to do ongoing drabbles into these "firsts" which will mainly focus on them as kids/teenagers with some chapters as adults. Some of the chapters will have major angst as well as hurt/comfort (my favorite genres) and all chapters will have strong language. This is my first attempt at fanfiction, please be kind.

I do not own the MacManus twins (but I wish I did) nor do I own anything related to the Boondock Saints.

Connor was first. He was always first. As far back as they could both remember, Connor led the way and Murphy happily followed his twin brother. At least, in most things he happily followed.

Connor walked first. Connor talked first. Connor was first to outgrow his clothes while Murphy still fit into his. Connor was the first to have his mouth washed out with soap after his first curse, although to be fair, Murphy was forced to watch while his twin suffered and gagged, coughed and sputtered. You see, Murphy had cursed too, and he had to wait his turn with the soap, Connor going first. As usual. So Murphy stood & fidgeted in place, his eyes glued to his brother's watering eyes, and he later told Connor that the anticipation was far worse than the actual soap in the mouth. Murphy followed his brother in everything. Cursing was no exception.

The 'soapy mouth incident,' as Murphy liked to call it, happened when they were innocent 7 year olds. The exact word they both uttered was debated for years, Connor insisting they had said 'cocksucker' while Murphy remembering otherwise. 'Fuck' was the exact word, at least according to Murphy. Regardless of their muddled memory, their Ma had heard them both spew the offensive word and dragged them both to the bathroom by their ears. She had insisted they tell her where they had heard such language, they were to tell her at once, they were not to protect any of their disgusting friends. The twins just stared at each other, a silent sort of 'twin talk' that no one else really understood, and they both knew better than to tell her that the offensive word, the dirty word, the vulgar word she couldn't believe her babies had said, had been heard in their own home, and was said by their own mother. No, they knew better than to tell her that.

So they suffered with the soap in silence. Together...but Connor first.

And so it was throughout their lives, no matter what they did, no matter where they went, no matter what terror they wrought. Connor would blaze the trail for his younger twin.

On their eighth birthday, they received a shiny blue bike with a large blue bow on it. It was a used bike, that was all their ma could afford, but to them it was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen. It sparkled as if new, the chain was freshly oiled, and it screamed to be ridden. It was a gift they would have to share, although sharing was never really a problem with them, and they waited for their uncle to arrive so he could teach them how to ride.

Connor promptly named the bike Blue Velvet which made Murphy scoff. "That's a pussy name, Conn," he said with a giggle. No, Murphy had insisted, it had to have a cool name, a fast name. It was to be called Blue Lightning, that name sounded fast. Connor just laughed at him, it's not like either of them would be able to ride it fast regardless, and he argued that lightning wasn't blue, it was white, so Murphy's name just didn't make sense.

After an hour spent arguing over what to name their shiny new friend, neither twin budging on this and no resolution being reached, their ma finally pushed them out the door with a swat on their butts when their uncle arrived. Murphy began stroking the handlebars, his eyes dancing over the metal, while Connor wasted no more time & swung his leg over the bike & sat on the vinyl seat.

Murphy didn't bother to object, it was a silent understanding between them that Connor would go first, and he stepped back when his uncle approached. After a few moments of instruction, Connor began to peddle while his uncle held the bike behind him & ran alongside. This went on for a bit with Connor quickly mastering his balance, far quicker than anyone would have given him credit for. So as expected, Connor mastered bike riding first, although it did help that they had both spent an overwhelming amount of time riding their neighbor's bike, which still had training wheels.

Then it was Murphy's turn. He tried to be as brave as his brother, false bravado really, as he took his place on the bike. He glanced at Connor who smiled & nodded encouragingly, and then Murphy was off, pedaling furiously. His uncle let go far too soon and without Murphy even realizing he was on his own. Murphy promptly went tumbling down the Chestnut Street hill, having forgotten how to use the brakes.

End over end he went, almost in slow motion, leaving a gruesome trail of blood and skin. When he finally came to a stop, the bike rested on top of him at an awkward angle, both in a heap at the bottom of the hill. From the sound of the screaming from his twin, Connor was certain Murphy must have broken every single bone in his body. As he ran toward his brother at full speed, the only relief he felt was knowing that with all that screaming, at least Murph was alive.

It turned out Murphy had indeed broken his bones. His wrist and two fingers, to be precise. So in the case of broken bones, this one time, Murphy led. He also led with a concussion & a chipped baby tooth, as well as most of the skin on his knees.

Murphy would often tell Connor that had it not been for him, he never would have gotten back on Blue Lightning. Blue Velvet, Connor corrected with a roll of his eyes. You see, all during Murphy's recovery, Connor had delighted in telling and retelling his twin's "harrowing" bike ride to anyone who would listen. He'd regale the story of the ride that almost killed his brother, his baby brother, when Murphy had attempted to ride a bike without the benefit of the training wheels he so obviously still needed.

As soon as Ma gave the okay, Murphy was back on Blue Lightning. Blue Fucking Velvet, Connor loudly corrected. Connor had spent the last couple weeks riding their bike & he had mastered the fine art of handless steering, showing off to Murphy every chance he got. Murphy wanted nothing more than to catch up to his brother but now fear & the memory of the pain of broken bones held him back.

Connor actually felt quite bad for his twin, the way he shook, the way he hesitated, the way he just sat there, not moving while fear took hold. Connor patted him on the back as encouragement which caused Murphy to jump about a mile before breaking into a nervous smile.

"You can do it, Murph," Connor gently said, his brother nodding in response but still failing to move. So Connor waited. And waited. And...waited. For over 10 fucking minutes he waited while Murphy sat on the bike, still as a rock, one foot on a pedal, the other on the ground. Connor mumbled more words of encouragement, hoping Murphy would take off at any moment. But all Murph did was nod in response & stare downward as he sat on the bike. Unmoving.

Finally, Connor couldn't take it anymore, time for tough love. He punched his little brother in the arm, announcing that unless he rode the bike right fucking now, Blue Velvet would be his & his alone, forever more. Murphy began to object, loudly, but Connor punched him again & called him a fucking pussy, effectively ending the argument.

Murphy glared at his twin, debating whether he should get off Blue Lightning and kick his brother's pompous ass, or just show him how it was done. As he continued to glare, he realized if he got off the bike, he took the chance that Connor would get the best of him & ride away into the sunset. On Blue Lightning, never to be seen again. He couldn't take that chance, it was too risky, he couldn't let Connor steal their bike. And that's what it was, their bike, not just Connor's.

So the decision was made. Murphy swallowed hard and held his breath, pushing forward on the pedal, praying to God he'd be able to stop before Chestnut Street hill took more of his blood. The bike jerked from side to side as Murphy pedaled, and shook, and he practically pissed himself. As he rode, he could hear Connor cheering him on from somewhere behind him, his anger a fleeting memory as he recognized the pride in Connor's voice.

And then there it was, the infamous Chestnut Street hill, right there in front of him waiting to be conquered. Or perhaps it was waiting to rip his skin from his knees. To this day, Murphy swears it appeared directly in front of him through the fog, like the moon breaking through the clouds. "There was no fog," Connor never hesitated to point out, but Murphy refused to acknowledge the lack of fog, it was there, he saw it.

Murphy only hesitated for a moment, not even bothering to slow down, before he disappeared over the top of the hill. He flew down the hill, picking up speed as he traveled, swearing he went at least 50 miles per hour. Connor reached the top of the hill when Murphy was half-way down & he stood watching and praying. God, please, don't let Murph die.

Murphy skidded to a stop at the bottom of the hill, he was safe, holy shit, he made it. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes climbing up the steep hill to find his wide eyed brother at the top staring down incredulously at him, a smile of pure joy breaking out on his proud face. He ran to the bottom of the hill, whooping & hollering the entire way, creating quite the ruckus. But he didn't care if the whole town heard him, his brother, his twin, Murph had done it. Murphy beat Chestnut Street hill.

So finally, after a couple weeks delay, Murphy finally followed his brother & mastered bike riding. The one thing Murphy kept to himself, what he failed to tell his proud brother, was that he actually had no intention of conquering that fucking hill that day. He had forgotten how to use the brakes.