Fic: Breathe Love (10/?)
Oct. 8th, 2006 11:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aeroport_artTitle: Breathe Love (10/?)
Pairing: Michael/Lincoln
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aeroport_art
Rating: PG-13 (up to NC-17)
Spoilers: Up to 2.03 but mild AU throughout
Word Count: 3,336
Disclaimer: Prison Break is not mine, obviously. And I am not making any money from this, obviously.
Notes: The boys are back on the road to reconciliation! Breathe Love is also on prisonbreakfic.com so if you'd rather read it there, sans wonky decimal point chapters, you can find it under the same screen name. On the other hand I'm going to keep posting chapters here first, lol. 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? Spanning two decades, this story attempts to explain Michael/Lincoln within the confines of canon.
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 1.1
Chapter 1.2
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 4.1
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
2 weeks later (January 1996)
Michael found the address to Lincoln’s new place easily that night; all he’d had to do was flip the local directory open to the letter B and there it was, clear as day. Burrows, Lincoln, printed in tiny ink letters followed by his address and even his home phone number. So he‘d penned the information onto a sticky note in neat, capital letters, and then promptly left it alone for two weeks. Because, well… because he’d sort of chickened out. Or as Michael internally corrected, he’d been deliberating. Nothing wrong with over-thinking something.
But he had to break, some time. It took one evening after his twelfth consecutive late-night stay at the office, when a coworker stopped by his room.
“Hey Michael, take it easy okay? You don’t have to prove anything by working so much,” he said. “Go home, get some rest, yeah? I’ll see you on Monday.”
With two quick raps on the doorframe as a jaunty goodbye, the man left. And Michael looked down at the yellow sticky that he’d placed on the corner of his computer monitor.
179 Kosvo Terrace.
It was so simple, that tidy set of numbers and words that signified so much. As Michael stared at the paper the blue ink began to blur together and finally he got out of his chair, swiped the sticky from the monitor, grabbed his briefcase and left.
In the elevator he jiggled his knee and wondered why it took so damn long to get from the fortieth floor to the garage. When it finally dinged and ‘B1’ lit up, the 22-year old quickly left, rushed into his blue Taurus, and pulled out of the office parking lot in the opposite direction of home before he could change his mind.
I’m on the freeway, there’s no going back, he steeled himself five minutes later. The roads were thankfully congestion-free thanks to it being long after rush hour, and it only took him a seven minute drive from the office to Lincoln’s new address. When he found Kosvo Terrace, he slowed down before finally spotting a one-story condo with the rusted numbers of “179” nailed to the wall.
There, question #1 answered. Where did Linc live now? A small condo with a garage, a visibly lit window lined with practical items like detergent and yellow rubber gloves, a hose snaking out from the small porch and a T-ball set strewn in the front yard.
That wasn’t so hard, the younger brother encouraged himself. Now for answering the rest so I can finally stop obsessing over him. Them.
Before he could feel even more like a stalker, Michael got out of his nice cozy Taurus and braved the cold blast of wind that hit him head-on. He wrapped the wool and acrylic blend coat tighter around himself and pulled the lapels up as he slowly walked past three other houses and up the cement path that led to the front door.
With a deep, steadying breath, Michael rang the doorbell. He heard the echo of it through the wooden door and realized that this was it. He was contacting his brother, digging up old history that may very well have remained better unturned. He might even see Lincoln face-to-face for the first time since the older brother had moved out from their small apartment, out of their shared bedroom. It all felt so recent, as if it wasn’t three years but simple weeks that had passed between them. At least, Michael felt like it was recent until the door opened and a woman opened the door, a little boy who looked disturbingly like a young Lincoln clutching her leg from behind. And suddenly it felt like decades, as he observed his brother’s new family. He didn’t even know this man anymore.
“Can I help you?” she asked pointedly. It was already nearing ten o’ clock at night.
“Ah… I’m looking for Lincoln Burrows.”
The blonde woman peered closer at the younger brother’s tense face… his dark gaze, the similar nose, the full lips.
“You’re not… Michael… are you?,” she asked, rolling his name on her tongue as if trying it out for the first time.
“Actually I am. I know this is very sudden, but I was… in the area,” he adopted his work voice, hiding behind the formality as was his instinctual habit whenever faced with a nerve-wracking situation. “Is my brother home?”
“Oh, he’s…,” the woman began but faltered as she heard a car pull up to the curb across the street. “He’s home early.”
Michael froze as he realized that his brother was behind him, in his car (What car did he drive now? Was it a motorcycle? Because could always picture Lincoln owning a sleek bike or maybe a Harley), or getting out of the vehicle and striding up to the house now. He had not planned on getting ambushed by his older brother, had not readied a sentence or pose to adopt. Would he turn around or wait to be recognized? Should he wave, or maybe just stand there like he hadn’t noticed? Was he still in love with his brother? Shit, shit, shit.
In between Michael’s stressing, Lincoln had cautiously sidled up to the younger man, wondering who would be knocking on his door this late. But as he approached, he realized that it was his little brother on the front doorstep with Lisa and LJ looking on in interest. As unbelievable as it was, it was real, he was there. How could he ever forget that profile, stony in concentration (oh, Lincoln just knew Michael’s mind was racing at this very moment); how could he ever forget those long lashes, illuminated by the fluorescent light spilling from the orb-like fixture on the front porch? Or those bitten lips, bright red against the pale, cold skin of Michael’s face. Oh, how he wanted to cup his little brother’s cheek in his hand, warm him up. He looked so cold, his hands thrust deep into his coat pockets and his lips trembling from the forceful gusts of air. Instead, he settled for placing a hand on Michael’s upper arm.
“Hey… Mikey.”
The younger man jumped at the unexpected touch. He hadn’t noticed Lincoln walk up.
“L-Linc…” was all he could muster. Shit, what was he going to say again? He could never recall anything around that disconcerting presence. Lincoln made his mind blank with emotions and goddamnit, he didn’t need feelings right now, he needed to remember why the hell he was even there.
“Michael, c’mon. It’s cold out here, let’s go inside.”
The older man led his little brother into the cozy home, Lisa and his son stepping aside to accommodate them. As the four of them trailed into the house, Michael neurotically eyed every surface and every detail, filtering the information through the assumption that they would somehow hold all the secrets to Lincoln Burrows.
The living room table looked like it was made of mahogany, but it had some years on it. The corners were dark and bright as if greased, and there were small dents in the rich wood from years of use. Was it secondhand, did it mean they were poor? Or was it a family heirloom of the blonde’s, did it mean the two were married and had perhaps exchanged the antique as a part of some dowry?
The woman sat on the sofa, excusing herself to make a quick pot of tea.
“I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced you guys yet,” Lincoln cut in. “Lisa, this is my little brother Michael. Mikey, Lisa and my son LJ.”
At this, the 25-year old man hooked the small boy around the neck and plopped him onto the squishy sofa.
“Hi,” he bashfully said before ducking his head underneath Lincoln’s armpit.
“Heh heh, don’t mind him. He’s shy in front of strangers,” the father explained, his eyes trained on the boy who was still burrowing into him. Michael watched the scene next to him, pursing his lips in inexplicable discontent as his older brother lavished LJ with beaming fondness.
“Right, because I’m a stranger,” he replied noncommittally. Lincoln snapped his gaze back at his brother’s unintended brusqueness and furrowed his brow, debating whether or not his little brother was being impudent.
“Sorry,” Michael immediately said, ducking his head in embarrassment. How did such bitterness creep into his voice without even consulting his brain first?
“No problem,” the older brother easily responded. “So tell me, how have things been for you? You taking care of yourself?”
Lincoln swept his gaze over his little brother. He certainly looked as if he was taking care of himself. The last three years had been good to Michael, hardening his once baby-soft features into angular elegance, the new shaven hair (not unlike his own) accentuating his remarkable eyes which were razor-sharp as always. Lincoln let his eyes meander down, taking in the dapper trench coat, thick woolen scarf, all the way down to his polished leather shoes. He tried to quell the old, familiar spark of attraction lest it reflect on his face, but damned, his baby brother looked good.
“Dad?”
“What? Oh, sorry. What did you say?”
Michael studied his older brother, taking his time before answering.
“I said, I’m doing alright. Got a job a couple weeks ago, it’s working out really well.”
“That’s good, Mikey,” Lincoln happily congratulated. He knew his little brother was going to do great in college, he knew Michael was destined for so much more than a one-bedroom apartment and a drug dealer for a lover. Lincoln winced as he realized he was referring to himself and quickly fixated his attention back on the conversation.
Soon, Lisa had brought over two steaming cups of chamomile and placed them in front of the boys.
“LJ, it’s getting late, how about we get you tucked into bed?”
The young boy obediently hopped off the couch and ran over to his mother, hiding behind her skirts as she laughed.
“Sorry Michael, he’s shy,” she said.
“So I’ve heard,” he replied conversationally, this time keeping a tight rein on his tone. But still, the way the two had repeated each other’s lines, it was kind of tacky. Did they talk about their son so much that they had started memorizing one-liners to keep the small talk easy and glib? He frowned as Lincoln’s eyes followed LJ out the room.
“Linc,” he started, leaning forward and clasping his hands together with elbows heavily situated on his knees. It was time to get down to business. “Tell me about Lisa.”
Oh, that demand could have been interpreted in so many ways, but Lincoln knew exactly what that strained undercurrent denoted.
“We’re not married. We’re not even really going out. It’s kind of like… a partnership, and our job is to take care of LJ.”
“Does this partnership include fu--sleeping together?”
“Michael,” the older brother warned. “You’re not going to interrogate me. We haven’t seen each other for years, do you really want to piss me off?”
The younger brother blinked, suddenly ashamed at his manners. It’d been a really, really long time since anybody challenged his actions or furthermore, dared to reprimand him, and Michael had nearly forgotten what it felt like to be in the wrong. He changed tactics.
“I’m sorry, Linc. I just…” he fished for some explanation to his rudeness. I just saw you for the first time in so long and I can barely breathe, I just wish you’d look at me like you look at your son, I just hate that some woman gets to spend every day and every night with you when all I have for company are blueprints and books and memories of you. I just think I still love you, sorry for being a dick about it.
Lincoln waited as a tumult of emotions passed over his little brother’s face before bailing him out.
“It’s okay Mikey. I missed you too,” and with this he scooted over onto the next sofa cushion and wrapped his arms around the frozen 22-year old. And Gods, it felt so good, the coveted feel of physical touch with the brother he hadn’t so much as glimpsed for three years. While the smell of aftershave was foreign as was his slightly stronger build, that sharp inhale, the soft open-mouthed breaths and the tentative way the arms wound back around his waist, that was all Michael. And when he tilted his nose to brush against the side of the younger brother’s soft, pliant neck, the scent of clean soap and milky sweetness was overpowering. Too overpowering, and when he felt a twitch of arousal he jerked away.
The awkwardness fell upon the two as they sat, avoiding each others gazes by reaching for the still-hot tea and nursing their cups. Lisa entered the room again soon after and broke the silence, joining the two brothers and asking Michael a variety of questions that Lincoln was also interested in, but simply had not remembered to ask because Michael had seemingly short-circuited his brain.
When Lisa asked the college graduate if he had a girlfriend, Lincoln paused mid-sip. At the denial, the older brother downed the rest of his cup and went into the small kitchen with the excuse of pouring himself more tea.
When he’d finally gotten some space to himself, Lincoln leaned against the low tile countertop and let a long, heavy sigh leave his body. This evening was taking its toll and he needed some time to recuperate. Hell, he hadn’t even gotten the chance to get over the shock of coming home and finding the love of his life waiting on his front doorstep.
Michael was visiting him out of the blue, and the older brother wondered if there had been anything to prompt this action. The most likely answer was simply the fact that the younger man had graduated, and Lincoln left it at that. But while he could save the sordid inquiries for later, Lincoln couldn’t ignore the way his little brother’s presence was still ruffling him so much. Lincoln had thought that with a son to care for, he wouldn’t need anybody else to fulfill him. He’d thought that he could wean himself off the sinful need to have Michael around, to hold and kiss him, but that evening had proved him entirely wrong with one simple embrace.
He would have to keep his distance. Lincoln was always better at fighting off the choking desire from across the room, using words and lies to buffer the space between them. He could do this, he would have to because there was no way in hell that he was going to have LJ find out that his dad liked to screw family. No, fucking, way. At this he poured his cup full and headed back into the living room.
Michael was waiting for him, alone, long fingers worrying the brim of his cup. His eyes were fixated on a worn, leather baseball glove that hung off the otherwise empty coat rack that stood inconspicuously in the corner of the room.
“My kid’s gonna be a great catcher someday,” Lincoln interjected into the silence. His little brother said nothing, so he walked over to the coat rack and plucked the ancient mitt off a wooden spoke, returning back towards the couch. He plunked himself down, careful to keep at least a foot of space between their bodies.
“I tried to teach you, but you never wanted to be the catcher,” Lincoln continued conversationally as he pulled the soft leather mitt onto his left hand, clenching his fingers experimentally.
“Yeah, well that was because you were always aiming for me, not the glove,” Michael retorted, smile playing on his lips at the embarrassing, but beautiful memories from their short-lived years of innocence. His brother allegedly teaching him to catch on the elementary school field, the wild throws that had the younger boy scampering in all directions. Their constant tussles that always had Lincoln sitting astride him and showing off to the girls who would scatter in flirtatious giggles. But Lincoln always helped Michael up in the end, promising to buy him grape pixie sticks or popsicles on the way home.
A deep chuckle rumbled from Lincoln’s throat as he leaned back into the couch and sighed nostalgically.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But trying to hit you was so much more fun than aiming for some stupid glove,” he laughed.
“You ass, you’re supposed to at least deny it!”
“I couldn’t help it! You were always such a girly boy when it came to baseball!”
“Yeah, well who always got trounced by his little brother in basketball?”
“Low blow, Mikey. Just ‘cause you got your growth spurt freakishly early. Giraffe-Ass,” Lincoln taunted back, pulling the ancient nickname out from his arsenal. His little brother just looked back at him and then burst out laughing.
“That’s the best you could come up with?? Personally I liked ‘Green Giant’ better. Wittier.”
“Hey, my insults were fucking stellar.”
The indignation in his older brother’s voice only caused Michael to laugh harder, pleasure coursing through his body as the two boys settled into their comfortable banter that returned as easily as learning to ride a bike again. It was always so effortless, their seamless joking like acts in a show where Veronica or Lincoln’s old mates were the audience. Or even during the crystalline years during their relationship, the humor had pulsed through their daily lives as strongly as the sexual overtones, often twining together into charged, teasing bouts of playful fucking. The two brothers had always known how to make each other laugh and sitting there on the squashy couch at 179 Kosvo Terrace, they were both equally glad to find that some things never changed.
After a little more taunting, some more serious inquiries, the door slid open and a short boy with wavy hair flopping into his eyes tottered forward.
“Hey Dad, shut up already, I’m trying to sleep.”
A thin silence ensued until the boy’s uncle leaned forward and started shaking with muffled by audible laughs.
“Hey, kiddo, you don’t speak to me like that. Get back to bed, punk,” Lincoln got up and walked towards his son. He ushered him out of the room and made to follow, but not before turning around and eyeing Michael dangerously.
“If you’re still laughing when I get back, I’m gonna kick your ass, Mikey.”
With that threat, Lincoln turned around and left the room to put LJ back to sleep.
Michael lounged on the sofa as his chuckles naturally petered out. LJ certainly resembled his fathers in more ways than just looks; he could hear it as if it were yesterday, the sound of his older brother giving the same lip to their father at that age.
Although Michael initially had an inclination for disliking his LJ, the one figure who had succeeded in competing with Michael for Lincoln’s love, he grudgingly decided that the boy was alright. If he had to admit it, the kid was kind of adorable in a way that made you feel like a jerk if you didn’t love him on sight. So, although he wasn’t giving up on reclaiming the wonderful heat that was his brother’s undivided attention, Michael could settle on a truce for the time being.
Now that the younger brother remembered what it felt like to let the walls down and just unwind with the soothing presence of his big brother, he wasn’t going to surrender that anymore. He’d gone to college, met hundreds of other people and he’d made friends, but it was now a tried-and-true fact; nobody could compel Michael into that blissfully blank state of mind but his brother Linc. Nobody else could make him feel so alive.
Michael wasn’t going to give that up again.
Back | Next
Pairing: Michael/Lincoln
Author:
aeroport_artRating: PG-13 (up to NC-17)
Spoilers: Up to 2.03 but mild AU throughout
Word Count: 3,336
Disclaimer: Prison Break is not mine, obviously. And I am not making any money from this, obviously.
Notes: The boys are back on the road to reconciliation! Breathe Love is also on prisonbreakfic.com so if you'd rather read it there, sans wonky decimal point chapters, you can find it under the same screen name. On the other hand I'm going to keep posting chapters here first, lol. 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? Spanning two decades, this story attempts to explain Michael/Lincoln within the confines of canon.
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 1.1
Chapter 1.2
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 4.1
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
2 weeks later (January 1996)
Michael found the address to Lincoln’s new place easily that night; all he’d had to do was flip the local directory open to the letter B and there it was, clear as day. Burrows, Lincoln, printed in tiny ink letters followed by his address and even his home phone number. So he‘d penned the information onto a sticky note in neat, capital letters, and then promptly left it alone for two weeks. Because, well… because he’d sort of chickened out. Or as Michael internally corrected, he’d been deliberating. Nothing wrong with over-thinking something.
But he had to break, some time. It took one evening after his twelfth consecutive late-night stay at the office, when a coworker stopped by his room.
“Hey Michael, take it easy okay? You don’t have to prove anything by working so much,” he said. “Go home, get some rest, yeah? I’ll see you on Monday.”
With two quick raps on the doorframe as a jaunty goodbye, the man left. And Michael looked down at the yellow sticky that he’d placed on the corner of his computer monitor.
179 Kosvo Terrace.
It was so simple, that tidy set of numbers and words that signified so much. As Michael stared at the paper the blue ink began to blur together and finally he got out of his chair, swiped the sticky from the monitor, grabbed his briefcase and left.
In the elevator he jiggled his knee and wondered why it took so damn long to get from the fortieth floor to the garage. When it finally dinged and ‘B1’ lit up, the 22-year old quickly left, rushed into his blue Taurus, and pulled out of the office parking lot in the opposite direction of home before he could change his mind.
I’m on the freeway, there’s no going back, he steeled himself five minutes later. The roads were thankfully congestion-free thanks to it being long after rush hour, and it only took him a seven minute drive from the office to Lincoln’s new address. When he found Kosvo Terrace, he slowed down before finally spotting a one-story condo with the rusted numbers of “179” nailed to the wall.
There, question #1 answered. Where did Linc live now? A small condo with a garage, a visibly lit window lined with practical items like detergent and yellow rubber gloves, a hose snaking out from the small porch and a T-ball set strewn in the front yard.
That wasn’t so hard, the younger brother encouraged himself. Now for answering the rest so I can finally stop obsessing over him. Them.
Before he could feel even more like a stalker, Michael got out of his nice cozy Taurus and braved the cold blast of wind that hit him head-on. He wrapped the wool and acrylic blend coat tighter around himself and pulled the lapels up as he slowly walked past three other houses and up the cement path that led to the front door.
With a deep, steadying breath, Michael rang the doorbell. He heard the echo of it through the wooden door and realized that this was it. He was contacting his brother, digging up old history that may very well have remained better unturned. He might even see Lincoln face-to-face for the first time since the older brother had moved out from their small apartment, out of their shared bedroom. It all felt so recent, as if it wasn’t three years but simple weeks that had passed between them. At least, Michael felt like it was recent until the door opened and a woman opened the door, a little boy who looked disturbingly like a young Lincoln clutching her leg from behind. And suddenly it felt like decades, as he observed his brother’s new family. He didn’t even know this man anymore.
“Can I help you?” she asked pointedly. It was already nearing ten o’ clock at night.
“Ah… I’m looking for Lincoln Burrows.”
The blonde woman peered closer at the younger brother’s tense face… his dark gaze, the similar nose, the full lips.
“You’re not… Michael… are you?,” she asked, rolling his name on her tongue as if trying it out for the first time.
“Actually I am. I know this is very sudden, but I was… in the area,” he adopted his work voice, hiding behind the formality as was his instinctual habit whenever faced with a nerve-wracking situation. “Is my brother home?”
“Oh, he’s…,” the woman began but faltered as she heard a car pull up to the curb across the street. “He’s home early.”
Michael froze as he realized that his brother was behind him, in his car (What car did he drive now? Was it a motorcycle? Because could always picture Lincoln owning a sleek bike or maybe a Harley), or getting out of the vehicle and striding up to the house now. He had not planned on getting ambushed by his older brother, had not readied a sentence or pose to adopt. Would he turn around or wait to be recognized? Should he wave, or maybe just stand there like he hadn’t noticed? Was he still in love with his brother? Shit, shit, shit.
In between Michael’s stressing, Lincoln had cautiously sidled up to the younger man, wondering who would be knocking on his door this late. But as he approached, he realized that it was his little brother on the front doorstep with Lisa and LJ looking on in interest. As unbelievable as it was, it was real, he was there. How could he ever forget that profile, stony in concentration (oh, Lincoln just knew Michael’s mind was racing at this very moment); how could he ever forget those long lashes, illuminated by the fluorescent light spilling from the orb-like fixture on the front porch? Or those bitten lips, bright red against the pale, cold skin of Michael’s face. Oh, how he wanted to cup his little brother’s cheek in his hand, warm him up. He looked so cold, his hands thrust deep into his coat pockets and his lips trembling from the forceful gusts of air. Instead, he settled for placing a hand on Michael’s upper arm.
“Hey… Mikey.”
The younger man jumped at the unexpected touch. He hadn’t noticed Lincoln walk up.
“L-Linc…” was all he could muster. Shit, what was he going to say again? He could never recall anything around that disconcerting presence. Lincoln made his mind blank with emotions and goddamnit, he didn’t need feelings right now, he needed to remember why the hell he was even there.
“Michael, c’mon. It’s cold out here, let’s go inside.”
The older man led his little brother into the cozy home, Lisa and his son stepping aside to accommodate them. As the four of them trailed into the house, Michael neurotically eyed every surface and every detail, filtering the information through the assumption that they would somehow hold all the secrets to Lincoln Burrows.
The living room table looked like it was made of mahogany, but it had some years on it. The corners were dark and bright as if greased, and there were small dents in the rich wood from years of use. Was it secondhand, did it mean they were poor? Or was it a family heirloom of the blonde’s, did it mean the two were married and had perhaps exchanged the antique as a part of some dowry?
The woman sat on the sofa, excusing herself to make a quick pot of tea.
“I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced you guys yet,” Lincoln cut in. “Lisa, this is my little brother Michael. Mikey, Lisa and my son LJ.”
At this, the 25-year old man hooked the small boy around the neck and plopped him onto the squishy sofa.
“Hi,” he bashfully said before ducking his head underneath Lincoln’s armpit.
“Heh heh, don’t mind him. He’s shy in front of strangers,” the father explained, his eyes trained on the boy who was still burrowing into him. Michael watched the scene next to him, pursing his lips in inexplicable discontent as his older brother lavished LJ with beaming fondness.
“Right, because I’m a stranger,” he replied noncommittally. Lincoln snapped his gaze back at his brother’s unintended brusqueness and furrowed his brow, debating whether or not his little brother was being impudent.
“Sorry,” Michael immediately said, ducking his head in embarrassment. How did such bitterness creep into his voice without even consulting his brain first?
“No problem,” the older brother easily responded. “So tell me, how have things been for you? You taking care of yourself?”
Lincoln swept his gaze over his little brother. He certainly looked as if he was taking care of himself. The last three years had been good to Michael, hardening his once baby-soft features into angular elegance, the new shaven hair (not unlike his own) accentuating his remarkable eyes which were razor-sharp as always. Lincoln let his eyes meander down, taking in the dapper trench coat, thick woolen scarf, all the way down to his polished leather shoes. He tried to quell the old, familiar spark of attraction lest it reflect on his face, but damned, his baby brother looked good.
“Dad?”
“What? Oh, sorry. What did you say?”
Michael studied his older brother, taking his time before answering.
“I said, I’m doing alright. Got a job a couple weeks ago, it’s working out really well.”
“That’s good, Mikey,” Lincoln happily congratulated. He knew his little brother was going to do great in college, he knew Michael was destined for so much more than a one-bedroom apartment and a drug dealer for a lover. Lincoln winced as he realized he was referring to himself and quickly fixated his attention back on the conversation.
Soon, Lisa had brought over two steaming cups of chamomile and placed them in front of the boys.
“LJ, it’s getting late, how about we get you tucked into bed?”
The young boy obediently hopped off the couch and ran over to his mother, hiding behind her skirts as she laughed.
“Sorry Michael, he’s shy,” she said.
“So I’ve heard,” he replied conversationally, this time keeping a tight rein on his tone. But still, the way the two had repeated each other’s lines, it was kind of tacky. Did they talk about their son so much that they had started memorizing one-liners to keep the small talk easy and glib? He frowned as Lincoln’s eyes followed LJ out the room.
“Linc,” he started, leaning forward and clasping his hands together with elbows heavily situated on his knees. It was time to get down to business. “Tell me about Lisa.”
Oh, that demand could have been interpreted in so many ways, but Lincoln knew exactly what that strained undercurrent denoted.
“We’re not married. We’re not even really going out. It’s kind of like… a partnership, and our job is to take care of LJ.”
“Does this partnership include fu--sleeping together?”
“Michael,” the older brother warned. “You’re not going to interrogate me. We haven’t seen each other for years, do you really want to piss me off?”
The younger brother blinked, suddenly ashamed at his manners. It’d been a really, really long time since anybody challenged his actions or furthermore, dared to reprimand him, and Michael had nearly forgotten what it felt like to be in the wrong. He changed tactics.
“I’m sorry, Linc. I just…” he fished for some explanation to his rudeness. I just saw you for the first time in so long and I can barely breathe, I just wish you’d look at me like you look at your son, I just hate that some woman gets to spend every day and every night with you when all I have for company are blueprints and books and memories of you. I just think I still love you, sorry for being a dick about it.
Lincoln waited as a tumult of emotions passed over his little brother’s face before bailing him out.
“It’s okay Mikey. I missed you too,” and with this he scooted over onto the next sofa cushion and wrapped his arms around the frozen 22-year old. And Gods, it felt so good, the coveted feel of physical touch with the brother he hadn’t so much as glimpsed for three years. While the smell of aftershave was foreign as was his slightly stronger build, that sharp inhale, the soft open-mouthed breaths and the tentative way the arms wound back around his waist, that was all Michael. And when he tilted his nose to brush against the side of the younger brother’s soft, pliant neck, the scent of clean soap and milky sweetness was overpowering. Too overpowering, and when he felt a twitch of arousal he jerked away.
The awkwardness fell upon the two as they sat, avoiding each others gazes by reaching for the still-hot tea and nursing their cups. Lisa entered the room again soon after and broke the silence, joining the two brothers and asking Michael a variety of questions that Lincoln was also interested in, but simply had not remembered to ask because Michael had seemingly short-circuited his brain.
When Lisa asked the college graduate if he had a girlfriend, Lincoln paused mid-sip. At the denial, the older brother downed the rest of his cup and went into the small kitchen with the excuse of pouring himself more tea.
When he’d finally gotten some space to himself, Lincoln leaned against the low tile countertop and let a long, heavy sigh leave his body. This evening was taking its toll and he needed some time to recuperate. Hell, he hadn’t even gotten the chance to get over the shock of coming home and finding the love of his life waiting on his front doorstep.
Michael was visiting him out of the blue, and the older brother wondered if there had been anything to prompt this action. The most likely answer was simply the fact that the younger man had graduated, and Lincoln left it at that. But while he could save the sordid inquiries for later, Lincoln couldn’t ignore the way his little brother’s presence was still ruffling him so much. Lincoln had thought that with a son to care for, he wouldn’t need anybody else to fulfill him. He’d thought that he could wean himself off the sinful need to have Michael around, to hold and kiss him, but that evening had proved him entirely wrong with one simple embrace.
He would have to keep his distance. Lincoln was always better at fighting off the choking desire from across the room, using words and lies to buffer the space between them. He could do this, he would have to because there was no way in hell that he was going to have LJ find out that his dad liked to screw family. No, fucking, way. At this he poured his cup full and headed back into the living room.
Michael was waiting for him, alone, long fingers worrying the brim of his cup. His eyes were fixated on a worn, leather baseball glove that hung off the otherwise empty coat rack that stood inconspicuously in the corner of the room.
“My kid’s gonna be a great catcher someday,” Lincoln interjected into the silence. His little brother said nothing, so he walked over to the coat rack and plucked the ancient mitt off a wooden spoke, returning back towards the couch. He plunked himself down, careful to keep at least a foot of space between their bodies.
“I tried to teach you, but you never wanted to be the catcher,” Lincoln continued conversationally as he pulled the soft leather mitt onto his left hand, clenching his fingers experimentally.
“Yeah, well that was because you were always aiming for me, not the glove,” Michael retorted, smile playing on his lips at the embarrassing, but beautiful memories from their short-lived years of innocence. His brother allegedly teaching him to catch on the elementary school field, the wild throws that had the younger boy scampering in all directions. Their constant tussles that always had Lincoln sitting astride him and showing off to the girls who would scatter in flirtatious giggles. But Lincoln always helped Michael up in the end, promising to buy him grape pixie sticks or popsicles on the way home.
A deep chuckle rumbled from Lincoln’s throat as he leaned back into the couch and sighed nostalgically.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But trying to hit you was so much more fun than aiming for some stupid glove,” he laughed.
“You ass, you’re supposed to at least deny it!”
“I couldn’t help it! You were always such a girly boy when it came to baseball!”
“Yeah, well who always got trounced by his little brother in basketball?”
“Low blow, Mikey. Just ‘cause you got your growth spurt freakishly early. Giraffe-Ass,” Lincoln taunted back, pulling the ancient nickname out from his arsenal. His little brother just looked back at him and then burst out laughing.
“That’s the best you could come up with?? Personally I liked ‘Green Giant’ better. Wittier.”
“Hey, my insults were fucking stellar.”
The indignation in his older brother’s voice only caused Michael to laugh harder, pleasure coursing through his body as the two boys settled into their comfortable banter that returned as easily as learning to ride a bike again. It was always so effortless, their seamless joking like acts in a show where Veronica or Lincoln’s old mates were the audience. Or even during the crystalline years during their relationship, the humor had pulsed through their daily lives as strongly as the sexual overtones, often twining together into charged, teasing bouts of playful fucking. The two brothers had always known how to make each other laugh and sitting there on the squashy couch at 179 Kosvo Terrace, they were both equally glad to find that some things never changed.
After a little more taunting, some more serious inquiries, the door slid open and a short boy with wavy hair flopping into his eyes tottered forward.
“Hey Dad, shut up already, I’m trying to sleep.”
A thin silence ensued until the boy’s uncle leaned forward and started shaking with muffled by audible laughs.
“Hey, kiddo, you don’t speak to me like that. Get back to bed, punk,” Lincoln got up and walked towards his son. He ushered him out of the room and made to follow, but not before turning around and eyeing Michael dangerously.
“If you’re still laughing when I get back, I’m gonna kick your ass, Mikey.”
With that threat, Lincoln turned around and left the room to put LJ back to sleep.
Michael lounged on the sofa as his chuckles naturally petered out. LJ certainly resembled his fathers in more ways than just looks; he could hear it as if it were yesterday, the sound of his older brother giving the same lip to their father at that age.
Although Michael initially had an inclination for disliking his LJ, the one figure who had succeeded in competing with Michael for Lincoln’s love, he grudgingly decided that the boy was alright. If he had to admit it, the kid was kind of adorable in a way that made you feel like a jerk if you didn’t love him on sight. So, although he wasn’t giving up on reclaiming the wonderful heat that was his brother’s undivided attention, Michael could settle on a truce for the time being.
Now that the younger brother remembered what it felt like to let the walls down and just unwind with the soothing presence of his big brother, he wasn’t going to surrender that anymore. He’d gone to college, met hundreds of other people and he’d made friends, but it was now a tried-and-true fact; nobody could compel Michael into that blissfully blank state of mind but his brother Linc. Nobody else could make him feel so alive.
Michael wasn’t going to give that up again.
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i love this story!!
Date: 2006-10-09 10:23 am (UTC)it is by far the best michael lincoln story i have ever read xD keep up the VERY VERY good work!!!
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Date: 2006-10-09 10:32 am (UTC)I just went through all of the chapters this weekend and thought how wonderfully written they all were. I know this is going to sound corny, but I could really feel the emotions Michael and Lincoln have, the pain, the suffering, everything. I could easily imagine all of this actually happening.
All in all, an excellent story. I wish I was a bit more creative in the compliments though! ;)
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Date: 2006-10-09 06:42 pm (UTC)Yay, an update!
Date: 2006-10-09 02:19 pm (UTC)This story is so amazing. I loved it when Michael felt so lost, but now it's just as good because after all that sadness it's great to have Michael feeling happy again for once.
Heehee, not how I pictured LJ as a kid, but with a dad like Lincoln...probably!
Can't wait to read the next chapter! I keep rereading the whole story because I can't get enough of it.
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Date: 2006-10-09 06:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-10 12:12 pm (UTC)Since I am such a big M/L shipper I have to say my favorite chapters were those in the beginning when Lincoln accepted their unconventional relationship. But the drama in these later chapters is great. I can't wait to see what Michael plans to do to try and weasel his way back to being first in line for Lincoln's love and devotion.
*lol* I can just see him pushing little LJ into a ditch, in order to take his place in the line.
Loved to read Lincoln's thoughts in this chapter, about seeing Michael again after so long time. Glad to see his feelings hadn't changed. :)
Michael's got a valid arguement this time. Linc told him to go out into the world, that it would be in his best interests, that he would make lots of friends and realize that the world has better things to offer someone like Michael - better than Lincoln could. Well Michael finally did just that and came back three years later and established how wrong Lincoln had been.
So, can't wait to see what happens next! Hope you'll be back soon.
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Date: 2006-10-10 05:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-10 08:06 pm (UTC)However, I must say, "woo-hoo! great chapter!" for this one and the last as well, as I'm impressed by how the boys' relationship is moving forward. You've managed to keep the angst while giving us some hope. :)
I think plotty drama is good, but I do hope sincerely that, after all the torment the boys (and we) have been through, there's either some good M/L togetherness along the way, or even better, a M/L ending in warm sands and salt water, with lots and lots of kisses and touches and such.
FYI, I check for updates of this story every day.
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Date: 2006-10-10 11:29 pm (UTC)Anyway don't worry, there will definitely be a happy ending. No way would I be such a jerk to poor M/L by ending all their angst with more angst. Yegh.
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Date: 2006-10-11 05:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-11 10:23 pm (UTC)Excellent, as usual:)
Date: 2006-10-22 07:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-22 07:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-22 09:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-26 01:52 am (UTC)and truly, they are the love of each others lives.
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Date: 2006-10-26 02:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-26 04:13 am (UTC)works for oth of us! *is glomped* Wub You Too
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Date: 2006-11-27 06:58 pm (UTC)Great chapter (as always!) and the difficult reunion is brilliantly written! I love it!
*hugs*
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Date: 2006-11-27 07:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-28 05:40 pm (UTC)