I Write Sins Not Tragedies
Title: I Write Sins Not Tragedies (083. And)
Author: ariesjen
Fandom: Prison Break
Pairing: Lincoln Burrows/Theodore 'T-Bag' Bagwell; Theodore 'T-Bag' Bagwell, Michael Scofield (TS/MC)
Rating: R
Word count: 1238
Summary: Michael discovers the truth about Lincoln and T-Bag.
Warnings: AU. Hints at a sexual act. Profanity.
Notes: This was written in October 2006 after getting inspired by motioncity44 and ferrynheit (Thanks girls!). Title from Panic! At The Disco's song of the same name. Continuation to Debts Repaid. #83 on the 100 Fictions table.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters nor do I have any affiliation with the show or its’ network. This was written for entertainment purposes only.
Lincoln followed T-Bag into a more secluded area of the prison to fulfill Michael’s debt. He could have walked there with his eyes closed, he was so used to this song-and-dance he was unwillingly in but did out of…love? Loyalty? Guilt? All three were a good reason Lincoln kept doing this day after day, this thing that turned his stomach every which way but still kept doing because…because of Michael.
The Michael who didn’t deserve to be here planning their escape. The Michael who deserved to be sitting in his high-rise apartment planning what building he was going to work on next. The Michael who deserved a helluva lot more in this world than the usual crap Lincoln seemed to always place in his lap.
“Come, come, Linc,” T-Bag let his pants fall down to the floor. “I’m startin’ to get a might chilly.” The fluorescent lights did nothing to make T-Bag’s smile - T-Bag in general - look better. It only darkened the shadowy areas of his face, making him appear less human the more Lincoln stared at him, so he closed his eyes and tried to conjure up images of his soon-to-be-free life with just him, Michael, Veronica, and LJ living it up somewhere warm and sunny. A beer in one hand, his other wrapping around Veronica’s waist and pulling her close as a warm breeze blew across them.
That image was in his mind as he got down to his knees and slid T-Bag into his mouth, working back and forth as he heard T-Bag moan, felt his hand slid over his shaved head looking for hair to grasp but finding none. So he held Lincoln’s head and moaned as Lincoln moved faster. Luckily for him, it never took more than a few moments for T-Bag to spill out into Lincoln’s mouth. Lincoln was never one much for religion, but he had to thank the big man upstairs for that little miracle.
Lincoln stood up and ran over to the garbage, gagging as he spit the taste of T-Bag out his mouth, but knew it was useless no matter how much toothpaste he used. Out the corner of his eye, he could see T-Bag standing there tying the drawstring on his pants staring at Lincoln with a smirk on his face.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” Lincoln spit in the garbage once more and used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. No way in hell toothpaste was going to get the taste of hillbilly rapist out his mouth. There wasn’t enough Crest in the world.
“Nothing,” the smirk didn’t disappear from his lips. “I’m still reeling from the sensation of those lips of yours, Linc my boy. Really fit me well.” He laughed, the sight of his teeth twisting Lincoln’s insides even more. “Till tomorrow,” T-Bag walked out, leaving Lincoln hunched over the garbage again, fighting the growing wave of nausea.
“Linc.” Lincoln felt the nausea fade away, leaving him feel empty inside.
Oh God…
“Michael.” Lincoln slowly rose and reluctantly faced his brother, his mind racing with fear as he tried to find an excuse, any excuse, why he and T-Bag had been down here. How could he play this off?
“How long?”
Fuck! Lincoln racked his brain for a lie, but came up empty. He had lied for so long, coming up with one should have been a piece of cake. But the look in Michael’s eyes kept the lies at bay. So he did the next best thing: he avoided Michael’s eyes, choosing to stare at the ground instead and pray - beg plead wish - for another miracle. When he didn’t answer, refused to answer out of shame, Michael left and a heavy sigh left Lincoln’s body. So much for keeping this between T-Bag and himself.
*
Michael’s mind raced, not with details of the plan, but with images of his brother on his knees in front of T-Bag…how could Lincoln do that? And to T-Bag of all people? It completely baffled Michael and he wanted answers. If Lincoln wasn’t going to give them to him, then he knew exactly who would.
Michael went straight for T-Bag’s cell and found him sitting there in his bunk, talking with one of his Alliance buddies. When he saw Michael bee lining for him, he smiled like he had been waiting for him. “Well, look who decides to pop in for a visit. And they say people have no manners nowadays,“ he and his friend chuckled.
“We need to talk. Now.” Michael didn’t wait to be told he could go in T-Bag’s cell. He stepped past the lanky man and his compadre and stood next to the bunks.
“Well, so much for good manners.” T-Bag excused himself and followed Michael in, leaning against the wall with his arms over his chest. “So to what do I owe the pleasure of you gracing my humble abode with your presence?”
“I wanna know what’s going on between you and my brother.” Michael imitated T-Bag’s stance, crossing his arms over his chest. He struggled to keep his voice normal, even though all he wanted to do was yell and lash out at T-Bag.
“I am not at the liberty to say. The agreement between your brother and myself is confidential.” T-Bag smiled his best smile, but it did nothing to make him look friendly.
“Bullshit.” Michael could feel his coolness leaving him. He stepped closer to T-Bag, towering over him, but knowing the lanky little hillbilly could outmaneuver him easily. “Whatever is going on between you ends today.”
The cold gleam in T-Bag’s eyes turned to amusement. “Is that your final word on the subject?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is. Leave my brother alone or else I will leave your ass to rot in this cell.” Michael used the best threat he had, hoping it would be enough.
The amusement in T-Bag’s eyes faded, the chilly glint returning and darkening his eyes. “Is that a fact?” He repeated, his voice remained smooth as it dropped an octave.
Michael felt his stomach drop, but stood his ground. “Yes.” A second later, he was stepping towards the cell door when he felt T-Bag grab him by the elbow and spin him around.
“You come to my cell and threaten me, boy?” The grip on Michael’s elbow tightened as he tried to wrench his arm away. “The only reason your brother is doing this is to pay off the debt you owe me, Pretty. So next time you feel the need to come here all high and mighty, threatening me…just remember who’s paying off your debt!” T-Bag released Michael’s elbow and promptly crossed his arms over his chest again.
Michael tried to swallow the large knot that had settled in his throat, but it just sat there choking him. Lincoln was…for him? Michael hadn’t even noticed he had left T-Bag’s cell until he found himself standing before his, hearing Sucre ask him what was wrong, but giving no answer. He collapsed in his bunk, staring up into space while his mind tried to wrap itself around Lincoln’s decision. Why? That was the question of the day. One that he knew he should know, but for some reason, the answer was nowhere in sight.
The End.
Author: ariesjen
Fandom: Prison Break
Pairing: Lincoln Burrows/Theodore 'T-Bag' Bagwell; Theodore 'T-Bag' Bagwell, Michael Scofield (TS/MC)
Rating: R
Word count: 1238
Summary: Michael discovers the truth about Lincoln and T-Bag.
Warnings: AU. Hints at a sexual act. Profanity.
Notes: This was written in October 2006 after getting inspired by motioncity44 and ferrynheit (Thanks girls!). Title from Panic! At The Disco's song of the same name. Continuation to Debts Repaid. #83 on the 100 Fictions table.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters nor do I have any affiliation with the show or its’ network. This was written for entertainment purposes only.
Lincoln followed T-Bag into a more secluded area of the prison to fulfill Michael’s debt. He could have walked there with his eyes closed, he was so used to this song-and-dance he was unwillingly in but did out of…love? Loyalty? Guilt? All three were a good reason Lincoln kept doing this day after day, this thing that turned his stomach every which way but still kept doing because…because of Michael.
The Michael who didn’t deserve to be here planning their escape. The Michael who deserved to be sitting in his high-rise apartment planning what building he was going to work on next. The Michael who deserved a helluva lot more in this world than the usual crap Lincoln seemed to always place in his lap.
“Come, come, Linc,” T-Bag let his pants fall down to the floor. “I’m startin’ to get a might chilly.” The fluorescent lights did nothing to make T-Bag’s smile - T-Bag in general - look better. It only darkened the shadowy areas of his face, making him appear less human the more Lincoln stared at him, so he closed his eyes and tried to conjure up images of his soon-to-be-free life with just him, Michael, Veronica, and LJ living it up somewhere warm and sunny. A beer in one hand, his other wrapping around Veronica’s waist and pulling her close as a warm breeze blew across them.
That image was in his mind as he got down to his knees and slid T-Bag into his mouth, working back and forth as he heard T-Bag moan, felt his hand slid over his shaved head looking for hair to grasp but finding none. So he held Lincoln’s head and moaned as Lincoln moved faster. Luckily for him, it never took more than a few moments for T-Bag to spill out into Lincoln’s mouth. Lincoln was never one much for religion, but he had to thank the big man upstairs for that little miracle.
Lincoln stood up and ran over to the garbage, gagging as he spit the taste of T-Bag out his mouth, but knew it was useless no matter how much toothpaste he used. Out the corner of his eye, he could see T-Bag standing there tying the drawstring on his pants staring at Lincoln with a smirk on his face.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” Lincoln spit in the garbage once more and used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. No way in hell toothpaste was going to get the taste of hillbilly rapist out his mouth. There wasn’t enough Crest in the world.
“Nothing,” the smirk didn’t disappear from his lips. “I’m still reeling from the sensation of those lips of yours, Linc my boy. Really fit me well.” He laughed, the sight of his teeth twisting Lincoln’s insides even more. “Till tomorrow,” T-Bag walked out, leaving Lincoln hunched over the garbage again, fighting the growing wave of nausea.
“Linc.” Lincoln felt the nausea fade away, leaving him feel empty inside.
Oh God…
“Michael.” Lincoln slowly rose and reluctantly faced his brother, his mind racing with fear as he tried to find an excuse, any excuse, why he and T-Bag had been down here. How could he play this off?
“How long?”
Fuck! Lincoln racked his brain for a lie, but came up empty. He had lied for so long, coming up with one should have been a piece of cake. But the look in Michael’s eyes kept the lies at bay. So he did the next best thing: he avoided Michael’s eyes, choosing to stare at the ground instead and pray - beg plead wish - for another miracle. When he didn’t answer, refused to answer out of shame, Michael left and a heavy sigh left Lincoln’s body. So much for keeping this between T-Bag and himself.
*
Michael’s mind raced, not with details of the plan, but with images of his brother on his knees in front of T-Bag…how could Lincoln do that? And to T-Bag of all people? It completely baffled Michael and he wanted answers. If Lincoln wasn’t going to give them to him, then he knew exactly who would.
Michael went straight for T-Bag’s cell and found him sitting there in his bunk, talking with one of his Alliance buddies. When he saw Michael bee lining for him, he smiled like he had been waiting for him. “Well, look who decides to pop in for a visit. And they say people have no manners nowadays,“ he and his friend chuckled.
“We need to talk. Now.” Michael didn’t wait to be told he could go in T-Bag’s cell. He stepped past the lanky man and his compadre and stood next to the bunks.
“Well, so much for good manners.” T-Bag excused himself and followed Michael in, leaning against the wall with his arms over his chest. “So to what do I owe the pleasure of you gracing my humble abode with your presence?”
“I wanna know what’s going on between you and my brother.” Michael imitated T-Bag’s stance, crossing his arms over his chest. He struggled to keep his voice normal, even though all he wanted to do was yell and lash out at T-Bag.
“I am not at the liberty to say. The agreement between your brother and myself is confidential.” T-Bag smiled his best smile, but it did nothing to make him look friendly.
“Bullshit.” Michael could feel his coolness leaving him. He stepped closer to T-Bag, towering over him, but knowing the lanky little hillbilly could outmaneuver him easily. “Whatever is going on between you ends today.”
The cold gleam in T-Bag’s eyes turned to amusement. “Is that your final word on the subject?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is. Leave my brother alone or else I will leave your ass to rot in this cell.” Michael used the best threat he had, hoping it would be enough.
The amusement in T-Bag’s eyes faded, the chilly glint returning and darkening his eyes. “Is that a fact?” He repeated, his voice remained smooth as it dropped an octave.
Michael felt his stomach drop, but stood his ground. “Yes.” A second later, he was stepping towards the cell door when he felt T-Bag grab him by the elbow and spin him around.
“You come to my cell and threaten me, boy?” The grip on Michael’s elbow tightened as he tried to wrench his arm away. “The only reason your brother is doing this is to pay off the debt you owe me, Pretty. So next time you feel the need to come here all high and mighty, threatening me…just remember who’s paying off your debt!” T-Bag released Michael’s elbow and promptly crossed his arms over his chest again.
Michael tried to swallow the large knot that had settled in his throat, but it just sat there choking him. Lincoln was…for him? Michael hadn’t even noticed he had left T-Bag’s cell until he found himself standing before his, hearing Sucre ask him what was wrong, but giving no answer. He collapsed in his bunk, staring up into space while his mind tried to wrap itself around Lincoln’s decision. Why? That was the question of the day. One that he knew he should know, but for some reason, the answer was nowhere in sight.
The End.