Title: Sour Neon Gummy Worms

Summary: Murphy is craving sour neon gummy worms

Rated: T for the language

Author's Note: Just for fun! I do not own the Boondock Saints, but if someone wants to give me Murphy and Connor, I wouldn't say no!

Nobody told Connor MacManus what to do, ever. Except for, of course, Murphy MacManus. All Murph had to do was get that damn excited look in his eyes, and Connor would find himself wrapped around Murphy's little finger. This was the way it had always been, and Connor knew that this was the way it always would be.

So when Murphy asked, at one in the morning, for sour neon gummy worms, Connor of course, said yes.

Ha, yeah right.

Nope, Murphy wished it was so easy. Connor was not about to bundle up and head out into the chilly December night to pick up fucking sour neon gummy worms. It just was not going to happen. Murphy could sit there with that stupid puppy-dog look and just fucking deal with it.

"Please, Connor?" Murphy stuck his lower lip out, and Connor desperately wanted to smack him, "The 7-11 isn't that far of a walk…"

"Are you bloody out of your fucking skull?" Connor rolled his eyes, "You must be if you think I am going to head out in this weather to get you fucking sour neon gummy worms. That's the only explanation there is. You're fucking crazy."

"Please, Connor?" Murphy's lower lip quivered.

Conner smacked him on the side of the head.

"OW! What the fuck, you fucking bastard?"

"Now, that's no way to speak to someone whom you want to go to the 7-11 at one in the fucking morning to pick you up some fucking sour neon gummy worms."

If looks could kill, Connor would be dead and buried on the spot…and their jobs would be a whole lot easier.

"Please," Murphy softened, trying out his best puppy-dog look, "Just one little bag of sour neon gummy worms…please?"

Connor wasn't going to budge. This time, Murph would not get his way…for once. Constantly allowing him to get whatever he wanted was merely enabling him, and Connor was not going to do that anymore. He and Murphy were both grown men…his brother couldn't just expect…

"Please?"

He sounded so pitiful…so pathetic. It made Connor want to puke. They were grown men! There was no excuse. He had spoiled Murphy long enough…

"I'd do it for you."

"But the thing is, baby brother," Connor grinned, "I don't ask you for such fucking ridiculous requests."

Murphy glared at him, "We still don't know which one of us is the fucking oldest so shut your fucking mouth, baby brother. And if you asked me to get you sour neon gummy worms at one in the morning…"

"In the sleet and snow…"

"In the sleet and snow, I would."

Connor was caving, and Murphy could feel it. In no time at all, he would be lying in his bed, contently munching on his favorite candy.

"Fuck you," Connor grunted as he grabbed the black trench-coat off its peg. Murphy had won.

Connor slammed the door shut behind him as he stormed towards the 7-11. He couldn't believe that his stupid brother still had this effect on him.

After a few moments, Connor returned and tossed the bag of sour neon gummy worms at his brother, "Here you go, you spoiled brat."

"Thank you," Murphy sat up, picked the bag up off his stomach, tore into it, and began munching on the worms, "Deeelicious!"

"Disgusting is what they are," Connor grumbled, sitting down on his mattress to take off his shoes, "Filled with fucking chemicals those little bastards are. Nothing edible should be such fucking violent shades of neon."

Murphy slurped a gummy worm into his mouth as if it was a spaghetti noodle, "Want some?"

"No thank you," Connor rejected the offer, "Those are all for you, bud."

Murphy grinned that childish grin of his, that same damn grin that made everything Connor did for him completely worth it, and slurped down another sour neon gummy worm.