Work Text:
Connor MacManus curled up behind his brother, face straight and eyes shut tight against the darkness of the inside of their tent. Murphy’s dreams had gotten considerably more violent, everyone in his sight turned into the undead and things were getting terrifying in his mind. As he jerked around in his slumber Connor found himself having to pull away from a quick moving elbow, a hand catching it and straightening his brother’s arm out along his side. He let out a long sigh, pressing himself against Murphy’s back again and letting his head fall down into the crook of his neck and shoulder.
A strong, tanned hand moved over the younger MacManus’ chest and he barely stirred in his sleep aside from his eyes shutting tighter from pure fear. But soon he could feel the fingers on his skin and all at once he was horrified, his brain trying to trick him into thinking it was the cold dead touch of a zombie. He thrashed against his brother, shoulders trying to buck him off like an angry stallion. Connor let out a little breath beside his sibling’s ear and cleared his throat a little bit. “’s alright a stóirín, ‘m here.” His hand splayed wide across Murphy’s chest to hold him still, the warmth from it radiating and calming him if even a little. But he still wasn’t pulled out of his captive sleep.
“Murph,” Connor spoke up, jostling him about. “Murphy.” He stressed his name that time, palm sliding up along the hollow of his throat before cupping his cheek that was pressed against the pillow. “You’ve gotta wake up,” he hissed, trying to keep his voice quiet. He really didn’t want to draw any attention to them by being too loud but Murphy was starting a ruckus. He didn’t want to leave the comfort of their tent and warm blankets to fight off any of the walkers right now. His brother needed him and he felt it in his stomach with an urgency he couldn’t ignore.
Finally, finally, Murphy shook awake in Connor’s arms. His heart was going to beat out of his chest, it seemed, from all of the excitement. He could’ve sworn it was squirming its way up his throat. “Shit,” he murmured to himself, bringing his hands up and wiping at his sweaty, tear soaked face. Conn’s touch had already started to calm him down and he was taking steady breaths as he started to tell his partner in crime all about his dream.
“Aye, but stop talkin’ about it before breakfast. It’ll come true. Don’t ya remember what Ma used to tell us?” Connor was thinking back to being small, back to being in their motherland and listening to all the elderly folk talk about old wives tales. He remembered that one like he’d heard it yesterday along with a handful of others, but it was long, long ago.
The tiniest-bit-younger twin nodded silently, his cheek resting against the pillow once again and his breath coming to him steadily. Connor’s hand had moved down his chest and was resting on his stomach, his rough finger tips stroking along the smooth ripples of his twin’s abs. Murphy felt like he was going to shiver at any minute from the butterfly wings beating in his stomach, his skin prickling up with goose bumps in satisfaction from the soft touches. But he’d calmed down by now, having almost forgotten his dream already.
The bumps felt like tiny, painless thorns underneath Connor’s fingers and he knew what they meant. He knew exactly how he was making his brother feel because he felt it too. He pushed himself closer, his other hand raising up to allow his fingers to brush through Murphy’s soft, dark locks. Being that close to his sibling and smelling whispers of strong soap on the back of his neck had him breaking out in chills as well, lips tingling in desire more than any other part of his body.
As his body buzzed with electric desire he leaned in, breath hitting his brother’s skin and the soft puffs bouncing off, warm and wet. “Ya don’t ever have ta be scared,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly as he let his lips brush over his baby brother’s skin and take in every ripple and scar. “I’m here sweetheart. I’ll always be here.”