"Jesus Christ," an exhausted Connor grumbles as his long fingers turn the gold key and unlocks the door. Seeing the barren apartment brings a sense of immediate relief to the Irishman. His day at the meat packing plant had been less than enjoyable. Having dealt with a malfunctioning grinding machine and Rosengurtle's anger (both ending in almost near death experiences) all Connor wanted in that moment was a Guinness and to sit his happy ass on the tattered recliner.

Stripping himself of his clothing, only his plaid boxers had remained on his body. Grabbing the cold beer can from the refrigerator, Connor made his way to the barely working piece of furniture. Giving an almost depressing squeak as the Irishman sat down, Connor adjusted his body along the rusty decorated surface. A feeling of contentment washed over him hearing the can crack open and few fizzy bubbles splash on his hand.

"Finally some peace and quiet." he whispered bringing the can to his lips and slurping the beverage before a smile spread over his face. Closing his eyes, Connor sighed once more and rested his head. Relishing the silence of the apartment, especially no sign of Murphy, it felt like heaven.

Underestimating just how exhausted he was, Connor's mind began to drift into a slow slumber as his breathing became heavier. Just as he was about to slip into full unconsciousness, it was then he had heard the dreadful noise.

*Buzz*

*Buzz*

*Buzz*

Connor groaned as he heard the familiar buzzing sound floating around him. The insufferable buzzing he had been sure they'd gotten rid of several days ago...or so he thought.

"Ye still alive ye son of a bitch?" Connor cursed as his eyes snapped open sitting upright to try and spot the fly. The annoying insect had somehow found its way into the rundown apartment and been incessant ever since. If there was one thing the spiky haired Irishman couldn't stand, it was indeed a fucking fly.

"I thought we smashed ye arse for good ye little bastard," he added setting his beercan down on the small television tray beside him, a sudden gust of determination coursing through him as his long fingers reached for the fly swatter hanging on the wall.

"Come here!" he shouted as he began to follow the insect around the apartment as it evaded the Irishman's attacks. Swiftly and skillfully dodging the swatter, Connor quickly became irritated at another showdown inevitably taking place. After a few minutes of unsuccessful strikes, a visibly frustrated Connor growled.

"Oh ye wanna taunt me little fucker." Connor remarked as the insect made a clear effort to swirl directly above his head. Just as Connor made another attack, the sound of the apartment door opening could be heard quickly followed by familiar footsteps.

"Ta fuck are ye doin?" Murphy spoke with confusion filling his face watching his twin brother standing there looking like a jackass. But then again, when did his brother not stand there looking like a jackass?

"What does it fuckin' look like?" Connor snapped briefly glancing at his dark haired brother.

"Ye look like a fuckin' moron, but tat's nothing new." Murphy retorted without missing a beat.

"I'm tryin' ta kill tat fuckin' fly fuckin' smart ass."

"Aye, tat little shit didn't die after all?" Murphy replied slightly surprised.

"Clearly not genius." Connor answered delivering yet another strike.

"Clearly ye fuckin' suck at this, let me give it a go." Murphy noted extending his hand out for the fly swatter causing Connor to cease his movement.

"Oh ye think ye can do better aye?"

"Better t'an your sissy ass hits yes."

"Shut ta fuck up." Connor sneered as the fly swatter was now in the hands of the other twin.

Murphy smirked as he began to hit in the direction on the fly. The buzzing noise had now seemed to grow louder as the insect whizzed around the brothers. Murphy inhaled a deep breath as he attempted to smack the fly, secretly finding it more difficult than he thought.

"Not so fuckin' easy it?" Connor smirked this time seeing Murphy having his own bout of difficulty.

"Little fucker is just quick, let me show ye how its done." Murphy replied smoothly feeling his competitive side come alive as it always did when it came to Connor. Determined to yet again show up his twin, Murphy began again on the quest to kill the fly. Nimbly he studied the insect anxiously anticipating the landing of the fly. If only the little fucking thing would land, he could make a direct hit.

An unimpressed Connor only rolled his eyes watching Murphy dance around. The incessant fly continued to hover over the brothers taunting them.

"Goddamn it!"

"I fuckin' told ye Murph, look at ye always tryin' ta be macho-" Connor's words had trailed off as suddenly he felt a strange tingle on the tip of his nose. Murphy's light eyes had widened in fascination realizing the fly had surely landed on Connor's nose. A slightly frazzled Connor stared at his twin through his peripherals knowingly.

"Murph don't ye fuckin' think about it." the spiky haired male warned.

"Don't move." Murphy whispered locking eyes with the insect.

"Murph I swear ta fuckin' god if ye even-"

*SMACK!*

The loud sound of the swatter meeting flesh echoed throughout the apartment, quickly followed by pained cries.

"GODDAMN IT MURPHY!" Connor shouted grabbing his now throbbing nose while Murphy watched the lifeless insect drop to the ground.

"YES! Victory is mine!" Murphy declared throwing a fist in the air proudly unaware of the daggers being thrown at him from his twin.

"I fuckin' hate ye." Connor grumbled still rubbing his nose as Murphy had only stood there, his notorious shit eating grin etched upon his face.

"What? I finally got the fuckin' fly for ye, ye oughta thank me brudder."