T-Bag/Maytag, Months
Title: Fatal Charm
Character/Pairing: T-Bag/Maytag
Prompt: #9, "months"
Rating: PG13 for language and sexing
Summary: A brief history of the T-Bag/Maytag universe in 50 sentences
Author's Notes: Completely inspired by Alazysod and her piece for 1sentence. I intended to do a different pairing, but the first set of themes wouldn't let me. Wrote 'em all then reordered to be chronological.
Name
“Don’t worry, Maytag, ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to ya in here.”
Sex
“Please don’t-,” Jason’s protest is cut off by a mouthful of mattress as T-Bag’s nails dig into his sides, and he loses himself in the muffled whimpers of his new cellie.
Potatoes
“Better eat up,” T-Bag smiles at his new cellmate’s untouched breakfast as Jason pushes the cold potatoes around his tray and wonders if you could kill a man with a fork.
Taste
“Don’t worry, boy, just open your mouth n’ you’ll get the hang of it real quick.”
Sickness
Jason grabs desperately at the cold toilet while T-Bag just chuckles and zips his pants back up.
Technology
“This ain’t summer camp, boy, so you can forget about all your fancy little music gadgets and cell phones that do everything ‘sides suck your dick for ya.”
Tears
After awhile Maytag didn’t cry anymore ‘cause it was just as easy to laugh and didn’t make no difference anyway.
Hands
Those first few times were all false reassurances and held down wrists, but soon there was no effort to escape, and T-Bag was fending off hands that were all too eager.
Innocence
Maytag used to wonder what would’ve happened if he’d pleaded just a little more that it wasn’t his fault and had been miraculously found innocent, but it was kinda nice not paying rent.
Sun
“You got a problem with my boy?” T-Bag asks, letting Maytag hide behind him and thinking blood would look awful pretty sparkling in the sunshine.
Hair
“You look god damn ridiculous,” T-Bag argues, hands on his hips behind the preening boy in the mirror, but he doesn’t bother to make him change; it’ll make a nice handle at least.
Comfort
Maybe T-Bag doesn’t mean it to, but that one little pocket makes Maytag invincible.
Kiss
“Don’t,” T-Bag breathes against Maytag’s cheek and pushes the boy’s dejected face into his lap, but he can’t push away the memory of those lips against his.
Soft
Maytag presses his face into the pillow that smells distinctly of T-Bag as strong fingers trail over his hip.
Chocolate
In movies it’s always chocolate sauce and whipped cream, but T-Bag drags razor blades across Maytag’s pale skin and leaves faint red trails all down his torso that are much prettier and fun to lick.
Speed
T-Bag thrusts into Maytag fast as his hips will allow, the soft complaints that it hurts just a bonus.
Melody
The song drifts up to the top bunk, and Maytag closes his eyes with a smile, figuring T-Bag’s singing is better than any radio.
Freedom
“You ever think about gettin’ outta here?” Maytag asks, but T-Bag just murmurs that he doesn’t like thinking of things that are never gonna happen and Maytag shouldn’t either.
Forever
“Everybody dies someday, so I don’t see what difference it makes whether they get hit by a bus or I cut their insides out, know what I’m sayin’?”
Heaven
“I figure if there is a heaven, it ain’t no place we’d wanna be anyway.”
Wind
The icy gusts sting his exposed skin, but Maytag still pokes his hand out of his warm jacket sleeve to hold onto that pocket, and his fingers are so frozen he probably couldn’t let go if he wanted to.
Ears
“He’s just some kid,” T-Bag says loud enough for Maytag to overhear, and he grinds a pebble into the dirt wishing it was T-Bag’s face.
Devotion
It was easy for Maytag to appreciate the arrangement when he’d never known anything better, but he kinda thought there wasn’t anything better to know in the first place.
Star
If he has to be owned by someone, he’s glad it’s T-Bag ‘cause at least then he’s the property of the best, and that makes him. . . something good he can’t quite figure out.
Market
“So what did you pay to make me your cellie, huh, how much is my ass worth?”
Completion
He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and tries to get rid of the self-satisfied smirk, but T-Bag’s already seen, and truth be told, Maytag was kinda lookin’ forward to the punishment anyway.
Confusion
The warm hand slides into his pants, but Maytag doesn’t say a word, else T-Bag change his mind and stop stroking.
Moon
Maytag used to like staying up all night, but that was before it meant not being able to sit down tomorrow.
Clouds
“I see,” Maytag squints at the puffy forms in the sky, certain that T-Bag’s bored question is some underhanded Rorschach test, “a woman’s face. . .and then the body’s over there in that one.”
Sky
Sometimes planes would go by while they were in the yard, off to God knows where, and Maytag would remember he wasn’t technically serving a life sentence, just a theoretical one handed down by T-Bag, but it was pretty much the same thing.
Home
Even if he did get out, Maytag figured his mama wouldn’t have him back anyway, so it was just as good to stay with T-Bag; at least he gave a fuck whether Maytag lived or died. . .maybe.
Weakness
“You ain’t never gonna be more than a worthless little punk who stole his granddaddy’s gun, and you’d do good to remember that.”
Telephone
“No, everything’s fine,” Maytag mumbles into the receiver as T-Bag snaps at him to hurry up, and Maytag doesn’t even bother to say goodbye before hanging up.
Gift
“Here,” Maytag grins and shoves the bundle hastily wrapped in a bloodstained t-shirt into T-Bag’s hands, barely able to contain his excitement as the pretty piece of scrap metal comes out.
Bonds
Maytag leans over the edge of the bed to stub the cigarette out on the floor, only vaguely listening to the death threats if he tells anyone T-Bag does anything other than beat and fuck him into oblivion.
Lightning/Thunder
“You in here with me n’ it’s a little storm that scares ya?” T-Bag asks, more than a little offended, but Maytag just laughs until another roll of thunder makes him jump so hard the bed rattles.
Rain
Before the bars are even closed, Maytag hurries to get a towel as T-Bag struggles to peel the drenched t-shirt from his skin, mumbling about all the good as dead COs and trying not to shiver.
Blood
Dark red blood and screams leak between Maytag’s fingers as he keeps the dying man quiet so T-Bag won’t get thrown in the SHU again.
Smile
“What you boys smilin’ about?” Bellick barks, but they keep walking to their cell with little more than a sideways glance and a snicker.
Hell
“You are so gonna burn in Hell,” Maytag laughs, roughly pulling the blood stained shirt over his head, and T-Bag grabs him by the hair to add, “Then I’ma take you with me, girly.”
Happiness
T-Bag likes to make the boy laugh ‘cause sometimes prison just gets damn depressing.
Waves
“You’re not funny,” Maytag scowls at the lewd comment and splashes water in T-Bag’s direction, but he can’t hide the grin when wet hands grab hold of his shoulders.
Sensual
Maytag’s hand slides across T-Bag’s soap slicked skin so nice he forgets he’s supposed to be in pain until his head cracks against the tile.
Supernova
Whatever was between them with the pocket and that sheet, there was always a sense of burning and high strung tempers, and everyone else was just waiting for the imminent explosion.
Pain
T-Bag eyes Scofield as he pulls the hand from his pocket, and Maytag figures he might as well have stuck a shank through his chest and got it over with.
Touch
With a bitter scowl, Maytag snatches the pocket back as if he’s clinging to survival, and he is.
Jealousy
Bolt clutched tightly in his grip, Maytag charges the man invading his territory, determined to destroy him so thoroughly there won’t be enough of a hand left to hold a pocket.
Fear
The warmth pours out under his fingers as Maytag touches the hole in his chest then clings to the one person he doesn’t think could let a man die; T-Bag never spared anyone.
Life
T-Bag watches the life drain out of the boy’s trembling frame, loathing the man who broke his toy and caused those dark red stains spreading over his shirt.
Death
Even with those shoddy holes in his chest, Maytag made a damn pretty corpse.
Character/Pairing: T-Bag/Maytag
Prompt: #9, "months"
Rating: PG13 for language and sexing
Summary: A brief history of the T-Bag/Maytag universe in 50 sentences
Author's Notes: Completely inspired by Alazysod and her piece for 1sentence. I intended to do a different pairing, but the first set of themes wouldn't let me. Wrote 'em all then reordered to be chronological.
Name
“Don’t worry, Maytag, ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to ya in here.”
Sex
“Please don’t-,” Jason’s protest is cut off by a mouthful of mattress as T-Bag’s nails dig into his sides, and he loses himself in the muffled whimpers of his new cellie.
Potatoes
“Better eat up,” T-Bag smiles at his new cellmate’s untouched breakfast as Jason pushes the cold potatoes around his tray and wonders if you could kill a man with a fork.
Taste
“Don’t worry, boy, just open your mouth n’ you’ll get the hang of it real quick.”
Sickness
Jason grabs desperately at the cold toilet while T-Bag just chuckles and zips his pants back up.
Technology
“This ain’t summer camp, boy, so you can forget about all your fancy little music gadgets and cell phones that do everything ‘sides suck your dick for ya.”
Tears
After awhile Maytag didn’t cry anymore ‘cause it was just as easy to laugh and didn’t make no difference anyway.
Hands
Those first few times were all false reassurances and held down wrists, but soon there was no effort to escape, and T-Bag was fending off hands that were all too eager.
Innocence
Maytag used to wonder what would’ve happened if he’d pleaded just a little more that it wasn’t his fault and had been miraculously found innocent, but it was kinda nice not paying rent.
Sun
“You got a problem with my boy?” T-Bag asks, letting Maytag hide behind him and thinking blood would look awful pretty sparkling in the sunshine.
Hair
“You look god damn ridiculous,” T-Bag argues, hands on his hips behind the preening boy in the mirror, but he doesn’t bother to make him change; it’ll make a nice handle at least.
Comfort
Maybe T-Bag doesn’t mean it to, but that one little pocket makes Maytag invincible.
Kiss
“Don’t,” T-Bag breathes against Maytag’s cheek and pushes the boy’s dejected face into his lap, but he can’t push away the memory of those lips against his.
Soft
Maytag presses his face into the pillow that smells distinctly of T-Bag as strong fingers trail over his hip.
Chocolate
In movies it’s always chocolate sauce and whipped cream, but T-Bag drags razor blades across Maytag’s pale skin and leaves faint red trails all down his torso that are much prettier and fun to lick.
Speed
T-Bag thrusts into Maytag fast as his hips will allow, the soft complaints that it hurts just a bonus.
Melody
The song drifts up to the top bunk, and Maytag closes his eyes with a smile, figuring T-Bag’s singing is better than any radio.
Freedom
“You ever think about gettin’ outta here?” Maytag asks, but T-Bag just murmurs that he doesn’t like thinking of things that are never gonna happen and Maytag shouldn’t either.
Forever
“Everybody dies someday, so I don’t see what difference it makes whether they get hit by a bus or I cut their insides out, know what I’m sayin’?”
Heaven
“I figure if there is a heaven, it ain’t no place we’d wanna be anyway.”
Wind
The icy gusts sting his exposed skin, but Maytag still pokes his hand out of his warm jacket sleeve to hold onto that pocket, and his fingers are so frozen he probably couldn’t let go if he wanted to.
Ears
“He’s just some kid,” T-Bag says loud enough for Maytag to overhear, and he grinds a pebble into the dirt wishing it was T-Bag’s face.
Devotion
It was easy for Maytag to appreciate the arrangement when he’d never known anything better, but he kinda thought there wasn’t anything better to know in the first place.
Star
If he has to be owned by someone, he’s glad it’s T-Bag ‘cause at least then he’s the property of the best, and that makes him. . . something good he can’t quite figure out.
Market
“So what did you pay to make me your cellie, huh, how much is my ass worth?”
Completion
He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and tries to get rid of the self-satisfied smirk, but T-Bag’s already seen, and truth be told, Maytag was kinda lookin’ forward to the punishment anyway.
Confusion
The warm hand slides into his pants, but Maytag doesn’t say a word, else T-Bag change his mind and stop stroking.
Moon
Maytag used to like staying up all night, but that was before it meant not being able to sit down tomorrow.
Clouds
“I see,” Maytag squints at the puffy forms in the sky, certain that T-Bag’s bored question is some underhanded Rorschach test, “a woman’s face. . .and then the body’s over there in that one.”
Sky
Sometimes planes would go by while they were in the yard, off to God knows where, and Maytag would remember he wasn’t technically serving a life sentence, just a theoretical one handed down by T-Bag, but it was pretty much the same thing.
Home
Even if he did get out, Maytag figured his mama wouldn’t have him back anyway, so it was just as good to stay with T-Bag; at least he gave a fuck whether Maytag lived or died. . .maybe.
Weakness
“You ain’t never gonna be more than a worthless little punk who stole his granddaddy’s gun, and you’d do good to remember that.”
Telephone
“No, everything’s fine,” Maytag mumbles into the receiver as T-Bag snaps at him to hurry up, and Maytag doesn’t even bother to say goodbye before hanging up.
Gift
“Here,” Maytag grins and shoves the bundle hastily wrapped in a bloodstained t-shirt into T-Bag’s hands, barely able to contain his excitement as the pretty piece of scrap metal comes out.
Bonds
Maytag leans over the edge of the bed to stub the cigarette out on the floor, only vaguely listening to the death threats if he tells anyone T-Bag does anything other than beat and fuck him into oblivion.
Lightning/Thunder
“You in here with me n’ it’s a little storm that scares ya?” T-Bag asks, more than a little offended, but Maytag just laughs until another roll of thunder makes him jump so hard the bed rattles.
Rain
Before the bars are even closed, Maytag hurries to get a towel as T-Bag struggles to peel the drenched t-shirt from his skin, mumbling about all the good as dead COs and trying not to shiver.
Blood
Dark red blood and screams leak between Maytag’s fingers as he keeps the dying man quiet so T-Bag won’t get thrown in the SHU again.
Smile
“What you boys smilin’ about?” Bellick barks, but they keep walking to their cell with little more than a sideways glance and a snicker.
Hell
“You are so gonna burn in Hell,” Maytag laughs, roughly pulling the blood stained shirt over his head, and T-Bag grabs him by the hair to add, “Then I’ma take you with me, girly.”
Happiness
T-Bag likes to make the boy laugh ‘cause sometimes prison just gets damn depressing.
Waves
“You’re not funny,” Maytag scowls at the lewd comment and splashes water in T-Bag’s direction, but he can’t hide the grin when wet hands grab hold of his shoulders.
Sensual
Maytag’s hand slides across T-Bag’s soap slicked skin so nice he forgets he’s supposed to be in pain until his head cracks against the tile.
Supernova
Whatever was between them with the pocket and that sheet, there was always a sense of burning and high strung tempers, and everyone else was just waiting for the imminent explosion.
Pain
T-Bag eyes Scofield as he pulls the hand from his pocket, and Maytag figures he might as well have stuck a shank through his chest and got it over with.
Touch
With a bitter scowl, Maytag snatches the pocket back as if he’s clinging to survival, and he is.
Jealousy
Bolt clutched tightly in his grip, Maytag charges the man invading his territory, determined to destroy him so thoroughly there won’t be enough of a hand left to hold a pocket.
Fear
The warmth pours out under his fingers as Maytag touches the hole in his chest then clings to the one person he doesn’t think could let a man die; T-Bag never spared anyone.
Life
T-Bag watches the life drain out of the boy’s trembling frame, loathing the man who broke his toy and caused those dark red stains spreading over his shirt.
Death
Even with those shoddy holes in his chest, Maytag made a damn pretty corpse.