Fic: Breathe Love (2/9)
Sep. 8th, 2006 11:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aeroport_artTitle: Breathe Love (2/9)
Pairing: Michael/Lincoln
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aeroport_art
Rating: PG-13 (eventual NC-17)
Spoilers: Up to 2.03 but mild AU throughout
Word Count: 1,197
Disclaimer: Prison Break is not mine, obviously. And I am not making any money from this, obviously.
Notes: Feedback = love.
Summary: Michael has always wanted his brother, and Lincoln has to wrestle with the responsibility of a reciprocated love that can never be... or can it?
Prologue
Chapter 1
6 months later (November 1986)
Michael is twelve and his big brother Lincoln is sixteen. Michael is in the living room, steadfastly ignoring the giggles and rustling he can hear through the thin walls of their bedroom. He aimlessly flips through the basic channels on the television set as his ears betray his wildly protesting brain by tuning into the frequency of his brother’s deep voice. It’s not eavesdropping when they’re so loud you can’t hear the television over them, he grumbled to himself, never mind that the volume was still on low from Lincoln’s late-night watching the night before.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like Veronica; on the contrary, he liked her very much and appreciated all that she and her family had done for them during the years following his mother’s death. But despite all that, he was happy to leave their disconcertingly glib family the year before and he didn’t want to go back. He was alone enough as it was; Lincoln worked throughout the night, coming home only to take care of Michael after school and catching a few hours of sleep in the evening before waking up in the middle of the night for work, leaving Michael alone again in their shared bedroom. If you could count “shared” as spending time in the same room, separately. Their time together was spread thin enough as it was, and he didn’t need the Donovans and their daughter taking away any more time.
As it was, he was still by himself on the couch, grumpily switching past flashes of news channels and infomercials. Finally the wall clock crept towards midnight and Michael promptly got up to inform the two teenagers that it was about time that Lincoln got Veronica home. He knocked twice, loudly, on their bedroom door. The noise behind it stilled, followed by a faint giggle that Michael rolled his eyes at. Women and their girlish tendencies were a phenomenon he had yet to appreciate.
A minute or two later Veronica hopped out the door, planting a quick kiss on the young boy’s forehead.
“Hey there Michael, sorry for keeping you up late. I’ll see you around later!” She called as the retreating body of his older brother followed her down the short hall. He was torn between soaking up her genuine affection for him and hating her for occupying his older brother for yet another evening, before finally settling on an unsteady compromise of both.
“Mikey, I’ll be back soon. Go to bed, it’s late,” Lincoln instructed loudly from the kitchen, pulling on his black leather jacket and grabbing the keys off the countertop.
The door closed with a loud thud and Michael looked at the blank white wood for a minute before turning around and heading into the bathroom. After a quick shower and brush of his teeth, he fell into the mattress of their secondhand but comfortable, queen-sized bed. He swore he could smell Veronica on the sheets. He knew that the two hadn’t had sex yet; Lincoln had told him as much last week when Michael bluntly asked him, and the thought strangely comforted him. Was his brother a virgin? He certainly hoped so. He didn’t like the thought of his older brother being so intimate with flighty and shallow girls. None of the girls he had met could ever understood what he’d gone through; they were too pre-occupied with dances and school to even begin to grasp the notion of what responsibilities Lincoln had in paying rent, bills, and taking care of a younger brother whose sanity was basically contingent upon the presence of a therapist.
Well, Veronica was a slight exception. And again, he found himself liking yet abhorring the young woman. His thoughts on her frequent presence looped like a never-ending carousel, and he fervently wished that she would just go away and leave the precious time he had with his brother intact.
Suddenly the front door unlocked and Michael realized that he had been mulling over his brother’s girlfriend and sex life for the past twenty minutes. He didn’t have the time to think through the implications of this as his Lincoln’s body weight sank into the mattress. Feigning sleep, Michael shut his eyes and attempted a regular breathing pattern.
“Mikey, what’s keeping you up? It’s almost one o’clock,” the older brother quietly asked.
The little boy tightened his hold on the blankets but continued the deep breaths, willing his older brother to drop the subject so that he wouldn’t have to try and explain his jumbled thoughts before he had them properly sorted out. But the silence dragged on and the bed never shifted, so Michael finally pried his eyes open to see what his brother was doing.
“…What are you looking at,” He mumbled, meeting his brother’s unwavering gaze. Lincoln suddenly blinked as if out of a trance, and he hurriedly stood up to grab his sweats and a clean white T-shirt from the chest of drawers. Michael quietly watched as his big brother left the room to change inside the bathroom, and the boy wondered at the unusual actions. Why isn’t he changing in here? He always changes in the room. His mind went through the day’s activities and he settled on the conclusion that Lincoln was acting strangely because of Veronica. Maybe he was embarrassed by his dorky younger brother as any burgeoning teenager was wont to feel; maybe he was mad at him for interrupting them earlier. Maybe he wanted to marry Veronica and move out and this was his way of weaning Michael off of his presence. Michael tightly drew the blankets in under his chin as his mind reeled off the multiple explanations of Lincoln’s distant eyes and apparent inability to even stay in the same room as him.
-----
Heavy footsteps pad into the room.
“Michael, stop that,” Lincoln tells his brother as he observes the way Michael’s knuckles are clenched white and his forehead is creased with twelve year old worry lines. Receiving no reply from the huddled body, Lincoln resignedly pulls back the covers and settles in beside him. After a moment’s hesitation, he hauls his body onto his side, facing Michael’s back, and tentatively puts his hand on the tense arm. He feels Michael flinch at first, then slowly, as if unwillingly, relaxing under his older brother’s palm.
“Hey, calm down. I’m not mad at you, I’m not going to leave you,” he reassured, hoping the cause of his brother’s reticence revolved around his habitual worries. “Just try and get some sleep, it’s really late now. Don’t make me have to call in to your school just because you overslept, kiddo.”
Michael processed his brother’s soothing words, realizing that he could have rattled them off on automatic considering how often the older boy said them. Nonetheless, they never ceased to comfort him and he showed his gratitude by scooting back a couple inches until he was firmly ensconced in the cave of his brother’s strong arms and chest. He thought he felt a gossamer kiss at the back of his head but before he could think twice about it, sleep soon overtook his small, tired body.
Back | Next
Pairing: Michael/Lincoln
Author:
aeroport_artRating: PG-13 (eventual NC-17)
Spoilers: Up to 2.03 but mild AU throughout
Word Count: 1,197
Disclaimer: Prison Break is not mine, obviously. And I am not making any money from this, obviously.
Notes: Feedback = love.
Summary: Michael has always wanted his brother, and Lincoln has to wrestle with the responsibility of a reciprocated love that can never be... or can it?
Prologue
Chapter 1
6 months later (November 1986)
Michael is twelve and his big brother Lincoln is sixteen. Michael is in the living room, steadfastly ignoring the giggles and rustling he can hear through the thin walls of their bedroom. He aimlessly flips through the basic channels on the television set as his ears betray his wildly protesting brain by tuning into the frequency of his brother’s deep voice. It’s not eavesdropping when they’re so loud you can’t hear the television over them, he grumbled to himself, never mind that the volume was still on low from Lincoln’s late-night watching the night before.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like Veronica; on the contrary, he liked her very much and appreciated all that she and her family had done for them during the years following his mother’s death. But despite all that, he was happy to leave their disconcertingly glib family the year before and he didn’t want to go back. He was alone enough as it was; Lincoln worked throughout the night, coming home only to take care of Michael after school and catching a few hours of sleep in the evening before waking up in the middle of the night for work, leaving Michael alone again in their shared bedroom. If you could count “shared” as spending time in the same room, separately. Their time together was spread thin enough as it was, and he didn’t need the Donovans and their daughter taking away any more time.
As it was, he was still by himself on the couch, grumpily switching past flashes of news channels and infomercials. Finally the wall clock crept towards midnight and Michael promptly got up to inform the two teenagers that it was about time that Lincoln got Veronica home. He knocked twice, loudly, on their bedroom door. The noise behind it stilled, followed by a faint giggle that Michael rolled his eyes at. Women and their girlish tendencies were a phenomenon he had yet to appreciate.
A minute or two later Veronica hopped out the door, planting a quick kiss on the young boy’s forehead.
“Hey there Michael, sorry for keeping you up late. I’ll see you around later!” She called as the retreating body of his older brother followed her down the short hall. He was torn between soaking up her genuine affection for him and hating her for occupying his older brother for yet another evening, before finally settling on an unsteady compromise of both.
“Mikey, I’ll be back soon. Go to bed, it’s late,” Lincoln instructed loudly from the kitchen, pulling on his black leather jacket and grabbing the keys off the countertop.
The door closed with a loud thud and Michael looked at the blank white wood for a minute before turning around and heading into the bathroom. After a quick shower and brush of his teeth, he fell into the mattress of their secondhand but comfortable, queen-sized bed. He swore he could smell Veronica on the sheets. He knew that the two hadn’t had sex yet; Lincoln had told him as much last week when Michael bluntly asked him, and the thought strangely comforted him. Was his brother a virgin? He certainly hoped so. He didn’t like the thought of his older brother being so intimate with flighty and shallow girls. None of the girls he had met could ever understood what he’d gone through; they were too pre-occupied with dances and school to even begin to grasp the notion of what responsibilities Lincoln had in paying rent, bills, and taking care of a younger brother whose sanity was basically contingent upon the presence of a therapist.
Well, Veronica was a slight exception. And again, he found himself liking yet abhorring the young woman. His thoughts on her frequent presence looped like a never-ending carousel, and he fervently wished that she would just go away and leave the precious time he had with his brother intact.
Suddenly the front door unlocked and Michael realized that he had been mulling over his brother’s girlfriend and sex life for the past twenty minutes. He didn’t have the time to think through the implications of this as his Lincoln’s body weight sank into the mattress. Feigning sleep, Michael shut his eyes and attempted a regular breathing pattern.
“Mikey, what’s keeping you up? It’s almost one o’clock,” the older brother quietly asked.
The little boy tightened his hold on the blankets but continued the deep breaths, willing his older brother to drop the subject so that he wouldn’t have to try and explain his jumbled thoughts before he had them properly sorted out. But the silence dragged on and the bed never shifted, so Michael finally pried his eyes open to see what his brother was doing.
“…What are you looking at,” He mumbled, meeting his brother’s unwavering gaze. Lincoln suddenly blinked as if out of a trance, and he hurriedly stood up to grab his sweats and a clean white T-shirt from the chest of drawers. Michael quietly watched as his big brother left the room to change inside the bathroom, and the boy wondered at the unusual actions. Why isn’t he changing in here? He always changes in the room. His mind went through the day’s activities and he settled on the conclusion that Lincoln was acting strangely because of Veronica. Maybe he was embarrassed by his dorky younger brother as any burgeoning teenager was wont to feel; maybe he was mad at him for interrupting them earlier. Maybe he wanted to marry Veronica and move out and this was his way of weaning Michael off of his presence. Michael tightly drew the blankets in under his chin as his mind reeled off the multiple explanations of Lincoln’s distant eyes and apparent inability to even stay in the same room as him.
-----
Heavy footsteps pad into the room.
“Michael, stop that,” Lincoln tells his brother as he observes the way Michael’s knuckles are clenched white and his forehead is creased with twelve year old worry lines. Receiving no reply from the huddled body, Lincoln resignedly pulls back the covers and settles in beside him. After a moment’s hesitation, he hauls his body onto his side, facing Michael’s back, and tentatively puts his hand on the tense arm. He feels Michael flinch at first, then slowly, as if unwillingly, relaxing under his older brother’s palm.
“Hey, calm down. I’m not mad at you, I’m not going to leave you,” he reassured, hoping the cause of his brother’s reticence revolved around his habitual worries. “Just try and get some sleep, it’s really late now. Don’t make me have to call in to your school just because you overslept, kiddo.”
Michael processed his brother’s soothing words, realizing that he could have rattled them off on automatic considering how often the older boy said them. Nonetheless, they never ceased to comfort him and he showed his gratitude by scooting back a couple inches until he was firmly ensconced in the cave of his brother’s strong arms and chest. He thought he felt a gossamer kiss at the back of his head but before he could think twice about it, sleep soon overtook his small, tired body.
Back | Next
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-11-24 08:11 pm (UTC)There's the description of the family as helpful, and then the description of them as disconcertingly glib. Couple things. 'Disconcertingly' is a...disconcerting word to hear in a sentence. Also it's hard to pin a feeling to. But the characterization of the family is two sides of a binary opposition in this passage. There's no sense of segueway between them being helpful and insincere. So when trying to get a sense of the semblance of family that surrounds the protagonist, the sentence makes it jarring.
There are instances where Michael is worrying about something that seems anterior to the story. In this case it's shallow girls and Lincoln. If Veronica is the exception, why linger on those shallow girls for so long? Chewing plot points is necessary to set up the really warm and/or juicy parts, but if the set-up feels forced, it limits the payoff. The more desperate you can make their situation seem, the better it is when they're huddling together. What I mean is that the payoff is vibrant and robust, but the build-up lacks a sense of urgency.
I like that Veronica becomes a reduction of Lincoln's guilt. Good touch. There are a lot of repeated descriptions in this chapter, especially of Michael's feelings towards Veronica, and they don't need to be so often stated.
My observation is that the function of the prose is to treat the character's feelings, and the narrative's feelings about the characters, like a flame that has to be stoked constantly, to make the feelings dance around anxiety, sexuality, pain, and everything else. It takes some crafting and some doing. You do it pretty well, the only hitches being things I've already mentioned.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-25 12:47 am (UTC)Can you point out which descriptions of Veronica are repetitive? I'm having a little trouble finding them >.<;;
I see what you mean about the disconnect between the shallow girls and Veronica though... will try and link it together better.
Btw would you rather I reply to ur concrit on lj or should I stalk you online? Lol. Off to the next chapter XD