Fic: Breathe Love (1/9)
Sep. 8th, 2006 11:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aeroport_artTitle: Breathe Love (1/9)
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: 1,131
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
21 years prior (1985)
Michael Scofield, at the tender age of 11, was never much of a fighter. He never playfully brawled with his friends, seeing as how he never had many to begin with. He never had to defend himself from his admittedly larger big brother, who was really just a big teddy bear beneath his rapidly growing muscles and facial hair. And he never picked fights intentionally. Nonetheless, there were fists currently being pummeled into his stomach, chest, his sides, his face. When the torrent finally subsided, he slowly climbed to his feet and glared at the taller offender while his cronies looked on.
Suddenly Michael cracked open a bloodied smile, his red teeth flashing in the after-school sun and laughed a staccato, biting laugh that was much too dark for one so young. The bully looked at him bewildered, then angrily. He pulled back his fist, gearing up for another sucker punch to the face when a loud authoritative voice cut him short.
“You think you really want to do that, John?”
John Baker’s face twisted in an ugly grimace and he reluctantly turned around to face the vice principal, who already had his two friends clenched in a rough, iron grip.
Michael leaned in just within earshot of the older boy and quietly stated, “Did you really think I’d let you beat me?” The older boy furrowed his brow until realizing that he had unsuspectingly followed his prey to the foot of the steps by the main office, where the large open windows allowed adults’ eyes to be privy to going-ons just as Michael provoked him by smugly refusing to do John’s math homework.
“You… fuck you! You fucking freak!!”
“That isn’t going to help you any, Mr. Baker,” the vice principal angrily rebuked as he hauled the three stricken boys up the steps towards the principal’s office. He called back to Michael, “Come on in, we’ll get you fixed up,” but by the time he turned his head the little boy had disappeared.
Michael Scofield was never much of a fighter in his younger years, but with a little planning and perhaps a little bit of blood, he could always, always beat the opposition.
-----
“Shit Michael, what the hell happened to you??” Lincoln dropped his keys on the tile countertop and rushed over to his brother, who was currently biting his lip as he inserted the sewing needle back into his split brow in front of the bathroom mirror.
“Oh, it’s nothing. I have it taken care of.”
Lincoln watched with a worried gaze as his disturbingly autonomous baby brother gave himself stitches with the $1 sewing kit he’d picked up last week. The one that had been meant to sew his jacket button back on, not to perform amateur medical procedures with.
“Mikey, c’mon let’s go to a doctor for this. I don’t want that getting infected.”
“No, I know that’s going to cost way too much money,” he replied, wincing as he slowly pulled the pink thread through his eyebrow. Lincoln sighed resignedly, knowing that he didn’t have the extra cash it would cost to see a doctor. He cursed his job for working him almost 100 hours a week without benefits or even overtime. That’s what you get for being a high school drop-out, I guess, he thought wryly.
Granted, Lincoln was only a fifteen year old boy but hell would freeze over if he couldn’t fill his mother’s shoes as best he could.
“Let me see that.”
He grabbed the stool Michael had been standing on and seated himself as he turned the boy to face him. He took the needle from the boy’s thin fingers and gently placed his own on the upturned face to steady the needle. Michael watched his older brother owlishly, his long lashes brushing against Lincoln’s hands as he worked the needle in and out as quickly and cleanly as he could. Soon it was over, and Michael was observing the work in the mirror.
“Good job, kiddo, you were very brave,” Lincoln praised as he rummaged through the cabinet for the often used bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Michael glanced back wordlessly but the slight upturns at the corners of his mouth and the straightening of his back didn’t go unnoticed by his older brother. Lincoln turned back around, pouring the antiseptic onto folded sheets of toilet paper and began dabbing the newly sewn wound as well as the scrapes on his knobby elbows and scratched palms. Only after it was clear that Michael had no broken bones or a concussion did Lincoln allow himself to get angry.
“Who did this to you?? I’ll kick his ass, fuck it if he’s four years younger than me. Nobody gets to mess with you like this,” he growled, furiously cleaning up the bathroom and shoving the stool in the corner.
“It doesn’t matter Linc, I told you I took care of it,” the anxious voice resounded as Michael warily watched his brother slam the cabinet door shut, only to have it bounce back open in protest.
Lincoln halted at the familiar words and then leaned against the cabinet, heaving a sigh as the door closed beneath the weight of his body. He looked at his brother, his dear little sibling who looked up at him adorably with the nervousness of a child who had done something wrong.
“Michael,” he sighed. “I don’t want you to have to take care of it yourself. I’m the one in charge of you now and that means that I protect you. Not Mom, not the Donovans… I know it’s hard, and I’m not as good at everything as Mom yet, but I’m trying my best and I’m just asking you to trust me. Have a little faith, Mikey,” he joked, attempting the lighten up the mood.
However the seriousness in the younger boy’s eyes revealed no humor, as he replied, “Linc, you’re already the best. I just don’t want to cause you anymore trouble.”
The larger boy bit back another disappointed groan, upset that he couldn’t get through to Michael, upset that his baby brother was forced to act like a fucking adult all the time.
“…But if you really want to know, his name’s John Baker. But I don’t expect to see him or his friends back at school for awhile so you’ll have to find them if you want to kick their asses.” He allowed a smirk at the expense of the bullies that prompted a hearty laugh from his older brother, the deep resonating tone making the younger boy’s skin tingle.
“Hey, who taught you to swear like that? I don’t approve.”
“Where do you think?”
Lincoln chuckled good-naturedly with his little brother, replying with only one word.
“Smartass.”
Back | Next
Pairing: Michael/Lincoln
Author:
aeroport_artRating: PG-13 (eventual NC-17)
Spoilers: Up to 2.03 but mild AU throughout
Word Count: 1,131
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
21 years prior (1985)
Michael Scofield, at the tender age of 11, was never much of a fighter. He never playfully brawled with his friends, seeing as how he never had many to begin with. He never had to defend himself from his admittedly larger big brother, who was really just a big teddy bear beneath his rapidly growing muscles and facial hair. And he never picked fights intentionally. Nonetheless, there were fists currently being pummeled into his stomach, chest, his sides, his face. When the torrent finally subsided, he slowly climbed to his feet and glared at the taller offender while his cronies looked on.
Suddenly Michael cracked open a bloodied smile, his red teeth flashing in the after-school sun and laughed a staccato, biting laugh that was much too dark for one so young. The bully looked at him bewildered, then angrily. He pulled back his fist, gearing up for another sucker punch to the face when a loud authoritative voice cut him short.
“You think you really want to do that, John?”
John Baker’s face twisted in an ugly grimace and he reluctantly turned around to face the vice principal, who already had his two friends clenched in a rough, iron grip.
Michael leaned in just within earshot of the older boy and quietly stated, “Did you really think I’d let you beat me?” The older boy furrowed his brow until realizing that he had unsuspectingly followed his prey to the foot of the steps by the main office, where the large open windows allowed adults’ eyes to be privy to going-ons just as Michael provoked him by smugly refusing to do John’s math homework.
“You… fuck you! You fucking freak!!”
“That isn’t going to help you any, Mr. Baker,” the vice principal angrily rebuked as he hauled the three stricken boys up the steps towards the principal’s office. He called back to Michael, “Come on in, we’ll get you fixed up,” but by the time he turned his head the little boy had disappeared.
Michael Scofield was never much of a fighter in his younger years, but with a little planning and perhaps a little bit of blood, he could always, always beat the opposition.
-----
“Shit Michael, what the hell happened to you??” Lincoln dropped his keys on the tile countertop and rushed over to his brother, who was currently biting his lip as he inserted the sewing needle back into his split brow in front of the bathroom mirror.
“Oh, it’s nothing. I have it taken care of.”
Lincoln watched with a worried gaze as his disturbingly autonomous baby brother gave himself stitches with the $1 sewing kit he’d picked up last week. The one that had been meant to sew his jacket button back on, not to perform amateur medical procedures with.
“Mikey, c’mon let’s go to a doctor for this. I don’t want that getting infected.”
“No, I know that’s going to cost way too much money,” he replied, wincing as he slowly pulled the pink thread through his eyebrow. Lincoln sighed resignedly, knowing that he didn’t have the extra cash it would cost to see a doctor. He cursed his job for working him almost 100 hours a week without benefits or even overtime. That’s what you get for being a high school drop-out, I guess, he thought wryly.
Granted, Lincoln was only a fifteen year old boy but hell would freeze over if he couldn’t fill his mother’s shoes as best he could.
“Let me see that.”
He grabbed the stool Michael had been standing on and seated himself as he turned the boy to face him. He took the needle from the boy’s thin fingers and gently placed his own on the upturned face to steady the needle. Michael watched his older brother owlishly, his long lashes brushing against Lincoln’s hands as he worked the needle in and out as quickly and cleanly as he could. Soon it was over, and Michael was observing the work in the mirror.
“Good job, kiddo, you were very brave,” Lincoln praised as he rummaged through the cabinet for the often used bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Michael glanced back wordlessly but the slight upturns at the corners of his mouth and the straightening of his back didn’t go unnoticed by his older brother. Lincoln turned back around, pouring the antiseptic onto folded sheets of toilet paper and began dabbing the newly sewn wound as well as the scrapes on his knobby elbows and scratched palms. Only after it was clear that Michael had no broken bones or a concussion did Lincoln allow himself to get angry.
“Who did this to you?? I’ll kick his ass, fuck it if he’s four years younger than me. Nobody gets to mess with you like this,” he growled, furiously cleaning up the bathroom and shoving the stool in the corner.
“It doesn’t matter Linc, I told you I took care of it,” the anxious voice resounded as Michael warily watched his brother slam the cabinet door shut, only to have it bounce back open in protest.
Lincoln halted at the familiar words and then leaned against the cabinet, heaving a sigh as the door closed beneath the weight of his body. He looked at his brother, his dear little sibling who looked up at him adorably with the nervousness of a child who had done something wrong.
“Michael,” he sighed. “I don’t want you to have to take care of it yourself. I’m the one in charge of you now and that means that I protect you. Not Mom, not the Donovans… I know it’s hard, and I’m not as good at everything as Mom yet, but I’m trying my best and I’m just asking you to trust me. Have a little faith, Mikey,” he joked, attempting the lighten up the mood.
However the seriousness in the younger boy’s eyes revealed no humor, as he replied, “Linc, you’re already the best. I just don’t want to cause you anymore trouble.”
The larger boy bit back another disappointed groan, upset that he couldn’t get through to Michael, upset that his baby brother was forced to act like a fucking adult all the time.
“…But if you really want to know, his name’s John Baker. But I don’t expect to see him or his friends back at school for awhile so you’ll have to find them if you want to kick their asses.” He allowed a smirk at the expense of the bullies that prompted a hearty laugh from his older brother, the deep resonating tone making the younger boy’s skin tingle.
“Hey, who taught you to swear like that? I don’t approve.”
“Where do you think?”
Lincoln chuckled good-naturedly with his little brother, replying with only one word.
“Smartass.”
Back | Next
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-09-12 11:32 am (UTC)However, it's well worth making the effort because it's a great read! I love that, even at 11, Michael always seemed to manage to come up with a Plan!! And the self-stitching? Awwww, that was so sweet; and soooo Michael!
no subject
Date: 2006-09-12 06:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-13 11:17 am (UTC)Enjoy your vacation!
no subject
Date: 2006-11-24 10:11 am (UTC)Great description. Even "cracked open" is a good colloquialism to use there, since it works into the sensory description of the bloody mouth. "staccato, biting" is a little too much. I would stick with staccato. It's more immediate than a 'biting' laugh, especially given that the previous sentence was also about teeth but in a much different capacity.
"Michael Scofield was never much of a fighter in his younger years, but with a little planning and perhaps a little bit of blood, he could always, always beat the opposition"
I like how this connects the experience of his past to the future anticipated in the TV show. I haven't seen it, but that's the impression I'm getting. "always, always" has a good rhythm to it, it doesn't trip the sentence.
"Linc, you’re already the best."
Adorable!
I think the last couple lines can really be shortened. The rhythm of the dialogue is fractured by the "Lincoln chuckled good-naturedly with his little brother, replying with only one word." It's just not adding much to the exchange between the characters
Certainly a marked improvement over the prologue.