I'm pretty sure that the two years I've been with Connor and Murphy are enough to have made me co-dependent. Or...I guess that would be tri-dependent in this case. Either way, day-to-day existence without those two jackasses has become increasingly difficulty for me. Absence and distance definitely make the heart grow fonder.

Well, the heart and other body parts.

I have been having the time of my life in New York, meeting people and learning more about my new job than I thought possible. I get a whole week with Jen acclimatizing me to our facilities in the city and introducing me to the people who are going to be training me alongside the other people who received similar promotions from other facilities around the world. She shows me around the neighborhood where my hotel is located and even takes me to a few tourist spots where I'd always wanted to go. Little Italy is absolutely gorgeous, and Jen and I even find a little hole-in-the wall that has a pignolata almost as good as where Rocco and I go. I nearly swoon when she takes me to the Cloisters, and I love every inch of Central Park that I come across.

Jen can only stay a short time, though, and then she has to return to Boston to take up her non-undercover boss duties. Funny all those months I spent resenting her for landing the position I'd been working towards, and it turns out that not only did I land an even better job than I could have hoped for, but I also got a friend out of the deal. What with my crazy work hours and tendency to spend my free time with a bunch of men in an Irish pub, female friends aren't exactly easy to come by these days.

My evenings and weekends are still plenty busy without her, with company dinners or drinks most nights. The company schedules group training sessions for all the upper level management positions at the time of year when most of the executives and company officers are already coming into town for various functions and conventions, so they can make sure everyone has the same information and system training. They also want to make sure as many people from different branches know each other as possible, so there are scores of people for me to meet.

By the end of the third week, I think I've schmoozed (as well as I can) with ninety percent of the upper tier of my entire company. I've absolutely exhausted my fancy wardrobe and am forced to go shopping for at least a couple more pieces in the swanky boutiques of New York City (an experience with which I am woefully out of my depth). Jen recommends a few places to check out while I'm down here, and though my heart skips a couple of beats at the general pricing, I manage to find some things that won't embarrass me at the severely ritzy company get togethers.

Every night, though, no matter what time it is when I get done for the day, I call my guys before I go to sleep. We usually don't talk for long, as none of us are big phone conversationalists, but I refuse to miss a single night.

My nightmares have been pretty bad without them sleeping next to me, but I chalk it up to separation anxiety. I've managed to limit my panicked, two AM phone calls to them to about twice a week; I feel that's a reasonable number.

Connor and Murphy take my anxiety in stride, doing their best to soothe me from two hundred miles away. Forcing myself to get up and work out until I'm ready to drop from physical exhaustion also helps, clearing my head and tiring me out enough so I can sleep through the rest of the night. I'm normally against any type of physical exertion that doesn't result in orgasms, but I force myself to make an exception in the name of getting a little sleep.

Not every night is a nightmare, though. Some nights I wake up drenched with sweat, panting and aching as physical need throbs painfully through my body. I'm left miserable and cranky with the female version of blue balls. Sadly, despite my best efforts, I just can't seem to solve the problem myself, no matter what I do. I mean, don't get me wrong, I know how to get myself off, but after two years at the handsof the MacManus brothers, apparently I am just not good enough for myself anymore.

I'm so spoiled it's pathetic.

After a couple of weeks of half-sleepless nights and restless dreams, I accidentally let slip to Murphy how frustrated I'm feeling. I'm sprawled on my otherwise empty queen-sized hotel bed, not even bothering to turn the covers down. I gave up on television long ago and have been unsuccessfully trying to find a satisfying position on the bed for the last ten minutes while We talk.

I'm dressed only in one of the boys' t-shirts and a pair of their boxers that I snatched before I left Boston. Even though both things are clean, I like to think they smell a little bit like the twins, a faint aroma of whiskey, cigarettes, and something else that I always think of as uniquely MacManus. Despite my lack of clothing, though, I'm overheated and crabby, snapping at every other thing out of Murphy's mouth. It's not that I mean to be so snarky; I just can't seem to relieve all this tension constantly thrumming through me, and it's seriously bringing out my inner bitch.

"Why so frustrated, lass?" Murphy is sincerely concerned, and I smile despite my foul mood. I shift around so the phone receiver is cradled between my neck and shoulder, but I still can't get comfortable.

"I've been...having dreams. When I'm not having the stupid nightmares, I'm dreaming about you and Connor...and me...doing...stuff."

Lack of sleep has done wonders for my vocabulary, I have to say.

"Stuff, eh?" A sound like a stifled laugh filters over the phone. I should be pissed at Murphy for laughing at me, but I honstly can't blame him. I know I sound petulant and ridiculous.

"Well, I mean, you know what I'm talking about," I huff indignantly. "I'm not dead; I have needs too, and some of us can't just yank it whenever we feel like it. Sometimes I need motivation or...Ugh, I don't know! I'm horny as hell, and nothing I do to fix the problem ever seems to be enough! I blame you and your brother entirely, you know. I was perfectly capable of satisfying myself before I met you two."

He's quiet, but it's an amused silence, and I let out a long, slow breath, actively willing my irritation to drain away. "I know, I know, I swear I know. I'm really sorry. I miss you both, and I don't seem to be handling that stress very well."

"Do ye have any neighbors in th'rooms around ye?" he asks randomly.

"Not that I know of. I haven't seen or heard anyone in over a week. Why do you want to know?" I'm distracted, still squirming around to find a position on the bed that isn't putting a crick in my neck or reminding me too harshly that I'm alone in this giant bed.

"Wanna try summat dat might help ye relax a bit." His voice drops half an octave, becoming overwhelmingly tempting and dark. A pulse of sheer lust shoots through me, pooling hungrily in my lower belly.

"O...kay," I murmur, surprised. "What do you want me to do?"

"Put me on speakerphone. Turn off th'lights, strip down, an' get comf'terble on th'bed."

My breath hitches at the request, more of a command, really, and I do as Murphy says, replacing the receiver on the cradle and switching off my bedside lamp before shedding the few clothes I'm wearing. I stretch out on top of the bedspread, feeling an eager flutter beginning in my stomach.

"Ye ready?" he asks softly.

I swallow thickly, feeling my cheeks (and most of the rest of me) heat up. "How can you make me feel like this, and you're not even in the same state?" I feel ridiculously exposed in my empty hotel room. I mean, I'm literally the only person in here, and I feel like I'm on display to the world. Or, at least, to Murphy. I can almost feel his dark eyes raking over me, heavy lidded and full of that intense longing that absolutely floors me whenever he directs it my way.

"Cause ye know I'm feelin' th'same thing you are right now, an' ye prob'ly know what I'm about t'do t'ye. Now listen real careful like, follow me directions exactly, an' make sure ye let me know how much yer likin' it."

It's good there's no one in the neighboring rooms, because I let Murphy know exactly how much I like what he's saying, loudly, quite clearly, and very often. From some of the noises reaching me through the phone, Murphy isn't exactly having a horrible time, either.

By the end of the conversation, I'm a sweating, jellified mess on the bed, and I am more relaxed than I've been since I left Boston.

"Why didn't you suggest this the first night I called you?" I ask, shivering as the aftershocks tingle through my limbs.

"T'be honest, lass, I didn't think ye'd go fer it," Murphy says, and I swear I can hear the smirk in his voice. "But ye were so pitiful t'night, I figured might as well try it. Worst ye could do would be t'say no."

"I miss you."

"Miss ye, as well. How many diff'rent shades of red d'ye t'ink ye've turned t'night? Didje hit me favorite shade, or should we have another go at it?"

I'm startled into laughing, and I roll on my side towards the phone. On the other end, I hear some shuffling sounds, and a brief, indistinct conversation, then Connor's voice comes over the line, low and suspicious.

"What were th'two of ye gettin' up to? Murph's a sweatin' mess, an' I caught him zippin' his jeans as I was walkin' in. Don't tell me ye finally decided t'ask fer help wit' all dat repressed sexual tension an' ye waited til I wasn't even here! Yer breakin' me heart, love!"

"Among other parts," I snicker, wrestling around until I can pull the comforter out from under me under wrap it around myself. "I miss you, Connor. I feel kind of pathetic most nights when I can't get to sleep without you two."

"No need fer that, girl. Ye miss us, an' rightly so. Yer doin' fine; it ain't like yer hoppin' th'train down every night t'get to us. Yer still functionin' an' doin' yer job goin' to all dem fancy dinners and shit. Proud of ye."

An unexpected rush of pleasure sweeps over me, and a goofy, sappy grin spreads across my face.

"How do you always know the perfect things to say?"

"Lots of trial an' error," he confides in a conspiratorial tone. "T'tell ye th'truth, I may have said a stupid thing or two t'me girl on occasion, an' I'm tryin' t'apply me hard earned knowledge so as not t'fuck t'ings up too often."

I giggle at his ridiculousness before stifling a yawn with the back of my hand.

"I really don't want to go, but I'm actually starting to fall asleep at a decent hour for the first time since I got up here. I love you, Connor."

"Love ye, lass. Quick question b'fore ye go. Do ye get pay-per-view in yer room?"

"I think so," I answer, raising an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

"Know ye said yer company gets th'bill fer yer room. Would dey get a list of all the t'ings ye ordered on th'television, as well?"

I think about it for a moment, trying to remember how the room billing system works here.

"I think so, because they'd need to know what the extra charges on the room are for. They have a corporate rate with this hotel, so they get the rooms at a set, cheaper price. I'll owe them for the long distance calls I'm making, but I planned for that and told Jen ahead of time, so I know the phone calls will be okay with them. Why do you want to know about the pay-per-view?"

In his most irresistible and charming lilt, Connor answers, "T'ought maybe ye could put on one o'dem adult films one night an' ye could tell me 'bout what yer watchin'. Somethin' adventurous an' all. Want t'make sure yer relaxed enough t'sleep, after all. Only have yer best int'rests at heart, o'course."

"I'm sure my sleep habits are the sole reason for your concern," I say wryly. "Maybe we should hold off on the adult films until I get back to Boston where I don't have to justify purchasing them to anyone."

"If ye t'ink it's best, lass. Just offerin' a suggestion fer some stress relief." I can hear Murphy saying something in the background, though I can't make it out.

"Gonna let ye get t'sleep, lass, an' Murph wants t'say goonight. Like he ain't already had ye long enough on the phone as i'tis. Love ye, girl. Sleep safe."

"I love you, Connor. I promise I'll ask for you first tomorrow night."

"Ye better. Here's Murph."

I'm off the phone not long after Connor hands it off to Murphy, and by the time I lay back and snuggle into the slick bedspread, I'm drifting off into blissful, enveloping darkness that thankfully brings no dreams.

Author's Note: I'm going back through the whole story to fix typos and clean up some frayed edges that have been bothering me. Please let me know in the comments if you see anything you think I missed. Many thanks to bleedingrose0688 for the massive amount of effort, editing, support, and general help. Huge thanks to Siarh for supporting me through pretty much the whole series up to this point and beyond; talk about the best cheerleader a girl could ask for. Sunfrckle, your reviews alone have spurred on entire chapts. Thanks to everyone for reading, commenting, liking, or straight up helping me this far. If I didn't mention you by name, hopefully you know who you are.