A/N: Just some random poop I came up with. Does it suck? And by suck I mean rule. My Beta, Nick, wasnt online so I am flying without a safetly net here... be kind!

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Allow me, dear reader, ta let ye in on a terrible little secret. Some insight, if ye will.

It’s a terrible thing, being in love. Love consumes yer thoughts, dreams, hopes, actions and moods. Rather, it’s the one that ye love, that consumes ye. It’s terrible ta lose yerself in tha one ye love. It’s terrible when ye can’t tell tha difference between yer ass and a hole in tha ground because ye’re so wrapped around yer love’s finger ye can’t configure a coherent thought. It’s terrible that ye couldn’t give two shits about tha consequences of loving yer love. It’s terrible, isn’t it?

And by terrible, I mean not terrible at all. Just tha opposite actually. Wonderful is more like it. Or how ‘bout amazin? Incredible even. And do ye know what’s more un-terrible than being in love? Being loved back, of course. Being tha sole purpose for yer love’s every breath. Tha thought just takes yer breath away, doesn’t it? Aye, well it does mine. I know that me love loves me back. He tells me every chance he gets. Driving home from tha bar. Going ta work. After our days work is complete. As I run out of tha house on a beer –n- smokes run. When I’m getting out of bed in tha morning.

“I need ye.” “Yo te quiero” “Ich liebe dich” “Cronaím thú”It’s like magic, his words. Breathy and hot against me neck, sending shivers of happiness up me spine. Not his breath, his words. Tht truth in tha words. Naturally, I always reciprocate; I would never let an “I love ye” go unreturned, a kiss unmatched, a hug unequalled or a lingering touch unnoticed. That’s just not how our love is. It’s sort of like a competition sometimes; ta see who can sneak in a display of affection, without others noticin. See, not everybody is privy ta our love. Actually, it’s just tha two of us, and that’s how we like it.

Yes, me love tells me how much he loves me - more importantly - he shows me. A kiss on tha neck, as he passes me in tha kitchen. Tha swipe of his energetic fingers down me spine when I exit tha shower. A heated battle between our tongues before turning in for tha night. His pressing me inta his mattress as he slowly brings me over tha edge ta ecstasy. Tha way he wields his gun, shielding me from harm. Its moments like those that remind me just how un-terrible it is ta be loved by him.

Then there are moments that remind me loving him is nothing more than a sin. When I look in tha mirror and see his eyes in mine. When I write me last name and realize it’s tha same as his. When I hear him refer ta me as “brother” in front of people who don’t know that were not just brothers. When our mother tells us she misses her sons. When people give us sidelong stares if we hold onta a hug a little too long for their comfort. When, after having maked love ta me love for that umpteenth time, tha name that echoes through me throat is that name of me Twin.

Those moments are few and far between though. Is that what’s terrible about it all? Or more of a blessing? He’s me blessing, actually. I’m awfully blessed ta have such a great partner in life. Partner is the best description of him. We were partnered with one another at birth, but we chose ta live tagether, work tagether and love tagether. Partners in life and in sin. Terrible isn’t it? We chose one another above all others. And by terrible, I do mean not really terrible at all. Because, after all it was a choice wasn’t it?

There are times where I feel as though this wasn’t a conscious choice me love and I made; ta love on another. No, I feel like it was a calling. Not tha calling that has us doing God’s work. Tha calling that makes me eyes burn when I haven’t seen me love’s smile. Tha calling that causes me mouth ta water when me love strolls in front of me without a shirt. Tha calling that makes me hand automatically reach for his when were sitting in silence. Tha calling that lets me skin fill with goose-bumps when his fingers idly rub circles inta me neck while I drive us home. Tha calling of Murphy ta me. Terrible, isn’t that? No, I don’t think so either.

Me love, me brother, me partner, me heart, me Murphy; now he’s terrible. Energetic and eerily calm at that same time. A man of God and principal and justice. He’s a walking contradiction, me love. His dark, unruly hair a stark contrast ta his pale – white – skin. Foul mouthed and tattooed Murphy never curses in front of a lady and has never missed a day of church in his life. Me love can drink like a fish and smoke like a chimney but will not skip on brushing his teeth. Terrible isn’t it?

What is really terrible about it all is that it really isn’t terrible at all. We go ta tha pub, sit by one another and drink it up with good friends. Never touching, never loving. We never express our truest feeling tawards one another unless were at home, in tha comfort of our alone-ness. As soon as we’re alone, me love’s terrible tongue is gliding sloppily over me earlobe as his terrible had presses tha terrible bulge in me jeans. I cannot, and will not, say that that is terrible.

It’s terrible that me love has been away from me for a mere 25 minutes, and I’m already missing him terribly. He didn’t say goodbye, before leaving for tha corner stare, as he thought I was sleeping. I wish he didn’t do that, leave without telling me. I worry about him, and I miss him. I miss his warmth next ta me in bed. His bed. We always sleep on his bed, it’s softer. Me bed is for show. So that others won’t figure out about our love. We hide it; put it aside when other people are around. Now that, that is indeed terrible.

Me love is back from tha stare, I can hear him at tha front door. I hope he brought me something sweet. When he enters that room, I can’t help tha smile that adorns me lips. His eyes meet mine and me love smiles back. “I brought ye something sweet.” He knows me so well. When he comes close enough ta me, I pull his body onta mine and capture his lips in a hasty kiss. His kiss, his lips, that’s tha only sweets I really need. Terrible isn’t it?

As terrible as it seems, it really isn’t. Because me love, me Murphy, returns tha kiss. His newly purchased corner stare goodies are dropped ta tha floor beside his bed, our bed, and his hands find mine. Hands begin ta roam, kisses are placed sporadically, and clothes are shed. Me love’s name escapes me throat over and over as he enters me expertly while kissing me slick back and shoulders. Once we’ve each had our fill for that other, he pulls me close ta him. His terrible chest heaves and his hot breath covers me like a blanket. Me love, he’s not terrible at all.

Before I drift inta a terribly peaceful sleep, me terrible love whispers ta me, “Oíche mhaith, deartháir, codladh sámh” It’s terrible how much I love that man. Terrible as it seems.

A/N: I hope I didn’t screw up the foreign languages… if I did, blame it on my total white-girl-ness.

“Yo te quiero” I want you - Spanish

“Ich liebe dich” I love you – German

“Cronaím thú” I miss you – Irish Gaelic

“Oíche mhaith, deartháir, codladh sámh” Good night, Brother, sleep well – Irish Gaelic