Prison Break - Maricruz’s Preeminence
Title: Maricruz’s Preeminence
Author: clair-de-lune
Characters: Michael/Sucre
Genre: Slash
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~ 795
Prompt by camille-miko/Summary: Michael/Sucre, with Sucre explaining to Michael why he has to stay with Maricruz.
Notes: Two takes on the same prompt - although I guess that the second drabble could be the continuation of the first one. Thanks to recycledfaery for her help with the translation. ( Original version)
Maricruz’s Preeminence (1)
He freaked out when he woke up and the events of the previous night came back to him.
It’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to remember slowly or, on the contrary, that hits and knocks you out, but in both cases, there should be no possible doubt about what happened. It didn’t quite occur that way. He had flashes of hands sliding, grabbing, fondling, and echoes of murmurs and panting. For almost an hour, he wonders if the memories were real or just bits and pieces of a weird dream.
C-Note asking him in the showers who the hell had left such marks on him - forefinger inquisitively pointed to the developing bruises on his back - sort of confirmed the reality of the whole thing.
Shit.
He spends a fair amount of the day making a list of arguments. Avoiding meeting Michael’s eyes (and keeping his distance with Burrows because you never know) and making a list of arguments.
Firstly, he doesn’t like men. Well... actually he does. He’s not a misothrope... misan... whatever. The point is, he has nothing against humankind, even though some people are pretty despicable. It’s just that he doesn’t like men... guys like that. (He tries hard not to think about the way he gripped the bed bar and clenched his teeth so as to not beg Michael to do this thing again... and this one... and... Damn.)
Secondly, he loves Maricruz. She’s pretty and soft and perfect. And she’s a woman. Sucre might have lost his chance to make a beeline for Heaven when he dies because he knocked her up out of wedlock, but if he does the right thing at the right time, it could still work out. (He tries hard not to think about the way Michael was looking at him with a small devilish smirk on his lips, and about the absolutely divine sensations Michael’s mouth was creating on various parts of his body.)
Thirdly, Maricruz is having his baby. His son. But if the baby turns out to be a girl, it will be perfectly fine too. Sucre has responsibilities now and he will carry them out. It implies, among other things, fidelity. (He tries hard not to think about Maricurz’s fidelity.)
He explains all that stuff to Michael when they’re alone in their cell at the end of the day. Almost calmly and without stuttering under the Fish’s quiet and amused look.
Then Michael politely asks him to put the sheet up and, while his throat tightens with nervousness, Sucre wonders whether he should hope or fear that his explanations have been heard and accepted.
Maricruz’s Preeminence (2)
Once they’re out the river, once they’re free of the immediate danger of being caught by the cops, they stop for a few minutes to catch their breaths. Sucre uses the break to explain to Michael in a few fast and awkward sentences that what was going on inside, up there in Chicago, can’t keep going on. Can’t go further. Michael looks at him without blinking. He displays this expression, the one Sucre has never been able to identify as either amusement or skepticism and he feels the need to elaborate.
“Whatever happened... You know what I mean.”
He loves Maricruz and she’s having his baby. Darn, he broke out of Fox River for Maricruz and their baby. Anyway where he comes from, this kind of thing just can’t happen. And anyway ... He stammers a bit, gets tangled in his explanations, and Michael keeps on looking at him, impassive and patient. And anyway, he resumes, there’s no way that something that started under such circumstances could work.
Michael still doesn’t answer, doesn’t move a muscle, but Sucre sees something - guilt or regret - darkening his face. This is the thing, when you spend twenty hours a day close to someone: even if it’s just for a few weeks, you manage to get some things about them.
Whether it’s guilt or regret or something else entirely, Sucre realizes it’s not all for him. He’d bet his head on the fact that Michael’s thinking about the doc. It’s fine, it’s perfect, it’s the way it’s supposed to be. He has Maricruz and Michael has the doc. Sort of.
“What happens in Fox River stays in Fox River, Fernando,” Michael tells him.
The way Michael pronounces his name with this absurd American accent startles him and reminds him that Michael almost never uses it. Just on the rare occasion.
He can feel the lump growing in his throat and he tries to convince himself that it’s not disappointment.
Just as, when Michael holds out his hand to help him up, he tries to convince himself that the Fish doesn’t hold his wrist just a second too long.
- - -
Author: clair-de-lune
Characters: Michael/Sucre
Genre: Slash
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~ 795
Prompt by camille-miko/Summary: Michael/Sucre, with Sucre explaining to Michael why he has to stay with Maricruz.
Notes: Two takes on the same prompt - although I guess that the second drabble could be the continuation of the first one. Thanks to recycledfaery for her help with the translation. ( Original version)
Maricruz’s Preeminence (1)
He freaked out when he woke up and the events of the previous night came back to him.
It’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to remember slowly or, on the contrary, that hits and knocks you out, but in both cases, there should be no possible doubt about what happened. It didn’t quite occur that way. He had flashes of hands sliding, grabbing, fondling, and echoes of murmurs and panting. For almost an hour, he wonders if the memories were real or just bits and pieces of a weird dream.
C-Note asking him in the showers who the hell had left such marks on him - forefinger inquisitively pointed to the developing bruises on his back - sort of confirmed the reality of the whole thing.
Shit.
He spends a fair amount of the day making a list of arguments. Avoiding meeting Michael’s eyes (and keeping his distance with Burrows because you never know) and making a list of arguments.
Firstly, he doesn’t like men. Well... actually he does. He’s not a misothrope... misan... whatever. The point is, he has nothing against humankind, even though some people are pretty despicable. It’s just that he doesn’t like men... guys like that. (He tries hard not to think about the way he gripped the bed bar and clenched his teeth so as to not beg Michael to do this thing again... and this one... and... Damn.)
Secondly, he loves Maricruz. She’s pretty and soft and perfect. And she’s a woman. Sucre might have lost his chance to make a beeline for Heaven when he dies because he knocked her up out of wedlock, but if he does the right thing at the right time, it could still work out. (He tries hard not to think about the way Michael was looking at him with a small devilish smirk on his lips, and about the absolutely divine sensations Michael’s mouth was creating on various parts of his body.)
Thirdly, Maricruz is having his baby. His son. But if the baby turns out to be a girl, it will be perfectly fine too. Sucre has responsibilities now and he will carry them out. It implies, among other things, fidelity. (He tries hard not to think about Maricurz’s fidelity.)
He explains all that stuff to Michael when they’re alone in their cell at the end of the day. Almost calmly and without stuttering under the Fish’s quiet and amused look.
Then Michael politely asks him to put the sheet up and, while his throat tightens with nervousness, Sucre wonders whether he should hope or fear that his explanations have been heard and accepted.
Maricruz’s Preeminence (2)
Once they’re out the river, once they’re free of the immediate danger of being caught by the cops, they stop for a few minutes to catch their breaths. Sucre uses the break to explain to Michael in a few fast and awkward sentences that what was going on inside, up there in Chicago, can’t keep going on. Can’t go further. Michael looks at him without blinking. He displays this expression, the one Sucre has never been able to identify as either amusement or skepticism and he feels the need to elaborate.
“Whatever happened... You know what I mean.”
He loves Maricruz and she’s having his baby. Darn, he broke out of Fox River for Maricruz and their baby. Anyway where he comes from, this kind of thing just can’t happen. And anyway ... He stammers a bit, gets tangled in his explanations, and Michael keeps on looking at him, impassive and patient. And anyway, he resumes, there’s no way that something that started under such circumstances could work.
Michael still doesn’t answer, doesn’t move a muscle, but Sucre sees something - guilt or regret - darkening his face. This is the thing, when you spend twenty hours a day close to someone: even if it’s just for a few weeks, you manage to get some things about them.
Whether it’s guilt or regret or something else entirely, Sucre realizes it’s not all for him. He’d bet his head on the fact that Michael’s thinking about the doc. It’s fine, it’s perfect, it’s the way it’s supposed to be. He has Maricruz and Michael has the doc. Sort of.
“What happens in Fox River stays in Fox River, Fernando,” Michael tells him.
The way Michael pronounces his name with this absurd American accent startles him and reminds him that Michael almost never uses it. Just on the rare occasion.
He can feel the lump growing in his throat and he tries to convince himself that it’s not disappointment.
Just as, when Michael holds out his hand to help him up, he tries to convince himself that the Fish doesn’t hold his wrist just a second too long.
- - -