Prison Break - Suit Up (English)
Title: Suit Up ( French version)
Author: clair-de-lune
Characters: Michael/Sara, Lincoln
Category: Het, gen, crack, whatever
Rating: PG
Word Count: 635
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: This really doesn’t deserve a summary...OK, Michael and Sara tackle a recurring issue.
Author’s Note Many thanks to linzi20 for the beta. Any remaining mistakes are mine.
Bahamas. Cabin by the ocean. White sand. Blue sky. Margaritas. Or well, juice depending on the people and the circumstances. Tanning sessions on the beach.
A couple of times, the two of them didn’t bother wearing swimming suits for these tanning sessions. They stopped doing that, though, after the last incident. Not something you want to see happening too often.
Lincoln and LJ have been incredibly compassionate after said last incident.
When Sara was around anyway.
When Sara was not around... let’s just say that the teasing has been quite merciless and Michael avoids being in their presence when Sara is not around now.
Sara, who, by the way, is sprawled in the hammock on the veranda. She has clothes on (kinda), her eyes hidden behind oversized shades, her right leg dangling lazily, her feet brushing Michael’s arm.
“You must talk to him about it, Michael.”
He looks up from the small laptop on the table in front of him. He wants to think that he’s tenacious (which is a nice synonym for stubborn), maybe even obstinate. But Sara? Sara has been repeating these few words for two days with an amazing regularity every time they’re alone together. And they’re currently alone together. Lincoln and LJ are playing to... God only knows what on the beach. Sara gives a new definition to ‘tenacious’.
It sometimes has some advantages.
Not this time around, however.
“It’s a touchy issue. I just can’t... do that.”
“Of course you can. It’s just one tiny sentence to utter. It matters for all of us,” she persists. “He attracts attention and we don’t need that.”
“I’m pretty sure attracting attention is his goal.”
Like every other times, she drops the subject with a (temporarily) sigh of surrender and lets her head fall back against the little cushion in the hammock. He dives back into his laptop screen.
At least, he thought she had let her head fall back against the little cushion. But from the corner of the eye, he can see her slightly straightening up. She removes her sunglasses and, a hand shading her eyes, she watches at the beach.
He follows her gaze and...
“You’re looking.” She glances at him without understanding what he means. Pretending not to understand what he means. “You’re looking.”
“It’s in my line of sight.”
“That would be seeing. Here, you’re looking. Staring,” he insists.
She turns her head again towards the beach and... “OK, maybe,” she admits. “But having people staring is the goal, isn’t it?” She puts her shades back on and slumps down into the hammock.
He considers the situation for a few seconds, all the while feigning to focus on the laptop and spying on Sara. It appears as though she is still staring at the beach. He knows she actually isn't - he's on to her game and well aware of what she is trying to accomplish - but it’s effective nonetheless.
It’s working.
Quite well.
He gets up and grabs the car’s keys.
“Where you going?” she asks in an indolent voice.
“Buying a few things.”
He gives a small push to the hammock on his way out and she swings softly, surrounded by the warm breeze of late afternoon. When she hears the car speeding away, she smiles and thinks so easy.
* *
Lincoln is standing in the small space he uses as a bedroom (but he’s used to small spaces, and the window opening on the beach is a damn improvement on the view from his Fox River cell) and looking with astonishment at the items piled up on his bed.
Polo shirts. Tee-shirts. In the piles of various, colored shirts, not a single one needs to be buttoned up. And on a piece of paper, Michael’s freakingly neat hand-writing: Suit up.
-End-
Author: clair-de-lune
Characters: Michael/Sara, Lincoln
Category: Het, gen, crack, whatever
Rating: PG
Word Count: 635
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: This really doesn’t deserve a summary...OK, Michael and Sara tackle a recurring issue.
Author’s Note Many thanks to linzi20 for the beta. Any remaining mistakes are mine.
Bahamas. Cabin by the ocean. White sand. Blue sky. Margaritas. Or well, juice depending on the people and the circumstances. Tanning sessions on the beach.
A couple of times, the two of them didn’t bother wearing swimming suits for these tanning sessions. They stopped doing that, though, after the last incident. Not something you want to see happening too often.
Lincoln and LJ have been incredibly compassionate after said last incident.
When Sara was around anyway.
When Sara was not around... let’s just say that the teasing has been quite merciless and Michael avoids being in their presence when Sara is not around now.
Sara, who, by the way, is sprawled in the hammock on the veranda. She has clothes on (kinda), her eyes hidden behind oversized shades, her right leg dangling lazily, her feet brushing Michael’s arm.
“You must talk to him about it, Michael.”
He looks up from the small laptop on the table in front of him. He wants to think that he’s tenacious (which is a nice synonym for stubborn), maybe even obstinate. But Sara? Sara has been repeating these few words for two days with an amazing regularity every time they’re alone together. And they’re currently alone together. Lincoln and LJ are playing to... God only knows what on the beach. Sara gives a new definition to ‘tenacious’.
It sometimes has some advantages.
Not this time around, however.
“It’s a touchy issue. I just can’t... do that.”
“Of course you can. It’s just one tiny sentence to utter. It matters for all of us,” she persists. “He attracts attention and we don’t need that.”
“I’m pretty sure attracting attention is his goal.”
Like every other times, she drops the subject with a (temporarily) sigh of surrender and lets her head fall back against the little cushion in the hammock. He dives back into his laptop screen.
At least, he thought she had let her head fall back against the little cushion. But from the corner of the eye, he can see her slightly straightening up. She removes her sunglasses and, a hand shading her eyes, she watches at the beach.
He follows her gaze and...
“You’re looking.” She glances at him without understanding what he means. Pretending not to understand what he means. “You’re looking.”
“It’s in my line of sight.”
“That would be seeing. Here, you’re looking. Staring,” he insists.
She turns her head again towards the beach and... “OK, maybe,” she admits. “But having people staring is the goal, isn’t it?” She puts her shades back on and slumps down into the hammock.
He considers the situation for a few seconds, all the while feigning to focus on the laptop and spying on Sara. It appears as though she is still staring at the beach. He knows she actually isn't - he's on to her game and well aware of what she is trying to accomplish - but it’s effective nonetheless.
It’s working.
Quite well.
He gets up and grabs the car’s keys.
“Where you going?” she asks in an indolent voice.
“Buying a few things.”
He gives a small push to the hammock on his way out and she swings softly, surrounded by the warm breeze of late afternoon. When she hears the car speeding away, she smiles and thinks so easy.
* *
Lincoln is standing in the small space he uses as a bedroom (but he’s used to small spaces, and the window opening on the beach is a damn improvement on the view from his Fox River cell) and looking with astonishment at the items piled up on his bed.
Polo shirts. Tee-shirts. In the piles of various, colored shirts, not a single one needs to be buttoned up. And on a piece of paper, Michael’s freakingly neat hand-writing: Suit up.
-End-