PB Ficlet: In Need Of...
Oct. 11th, 2008 09:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
out_thereTitle: In Need Of...
Fandom: Prison Break
Pairing: Michael/Alex
Rating: G
Word count: 660
Notes:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sdwolfpup mentioned that Alex Mahone needed a hug. Since I'm -- in theory, at least -- using tonight to finish betaing two stories, this seemed like the perfect procrastination technique. Set during S4, but no spoilers.
Alex has been gone for nine hours and forty-two minutes when the warehouse door creaks open. Michael knows this because the first thing he does is check his watch when he hears the sound. The second thing he does is stand up and take three steps away from the table, hoping this isn't Agent Self with more bad news, with more rushed excuses for why the tracker isn't working, why Wyatt's trail disappeared in Sun Valley.
Third thing Michael does is take a deep breath and force himself to look towards the door, to face whatever he'll read in Self's face.
It isn't Self.
It's Alex. He's limping and his white shirt is smeared dark brown down one side. Michael wonders if he fell, imagines Alex crawling through mud. Then Alex looks up and Michael sees the red-purple splotches across his right cheek and left temple, his swollen, split lip. There are sloping cuts across his forehead, blood dried to the same colour as his shirt.
Linc and Sucre are moving, trotting down the stairs and running to Alex, yelling something that Michael doesn't hear. Whatever it is, Michael doesn't take it in. He's too busy running the opposite direction to the back door, to the docks, to Sara.
His feet land heavily on the concrete as he runs, loud enough that Sara hears him coming. She's on her feet before he catches his breath enough to say, "Alex. He's back."
Sara doesn't waste time with questions, just nods and follows. She heads for the medical supplies kept in her boat, and Michael goes straight for the communal bathroom.
The shower's already running and Linc's standing outside, saying, "Mike, it's okay. He'll be fine," but Michael pushes past him.
Michael doesn't worry about discretion or modesty as he shoves the bathroom door open and yanks the shower curtain out of the way. He doesn't give a damn what the others will think or might see.
Alex jerks around in surprise -- Alex showing obvious reactions means whatever happened was bad, really bad -- and wipes water out of his eyes. "It can wait."
"Your shirt," Michael says, running his eyes down Alex's chest, ignoring the water he can feel splattering his ankles and feet, "I saw--"
"Looked worse than it was," Alex says gruffly, and even his voice sounds rough and hurt.
But he's right, Michael realises. There are nasty bruises, old blood washing down the drain, but he can't see any cuts. No gunshots or stab wounds. Nothing that'll kill.
"Blood wasn't mine," Alex says and Michael doesn't believe it, can't believe it, not until he reaches out, presses fingers flat against Alex's ribcage, feels the muscles move as Alex breathes. "I'm okay."
"We thought--" Michael swallows. Can't say the words. Can't name the fear that Alex was gone, that Alex wasn't coming back and there was nothing he could do. "Wyatt--"
"Wyatt isn't a problem. Not anymore," Alex says, soft and intense. It makes sense: the blood, the time gone, the exhaustion from hiding a body well.
Michael wants to say that's good, wants to tell Alex they've been working on the plan, that tomorrow they'll be good to go, but his throat's tight and his feet are wet and he feels stupid with relief. All he can say is, "Alex," and bury his head against Alex's shoulder as he slides arms around Alex's back.
Michael can feel the shower soaking through his sleeves, his clothes damp from contact, wet handprints on the back of his shirt from Alex's fingers holding him tight. Hears the quiet snick of the bathroom door being closed. He doesn't care about any of it.
He doesn't step back and doesn't let go, not even when Alex wraps a hand around the back of his neck and squeezes gently. Not even when Alex hums low in his throat and says, "Come on, Michael. It's okay. I'm still here."
Fandom: Prison Break
Pairing: Michael/Alex
Rating: G
Word count: 660
Notes:
sdwolfpup mentioned that Alex Mahone needed a hug. Since I'm -- in theory, at least -- using tonight to finish betaing two stories, this seemed like the perfect procrastination technique. Set during S4, but no spoilers.Alex has been gone for nine hours and forty-two minutes when the warehouse door creaks open. Michael knows this because the first thing he does is check his watch when he hears the sound. The second thing he does is stand up and take three steps away from the table, hoping this isn't Agent Self with more bad news, with more rushed excuses for why the tracker isn't working, why Wyatt's trail disappeared in Sun Valley.
Third thing Michael does is take a deep breath and force himself to look towards the door, to face whatever he'll read in Self's face.
It isn't Self.
It's Alex. He's limping and his white shirt is smeared dark brown down one side. Michael wonders if he fell, imagines Alex crawling through mud. Then Alex looks up and Michael sees the red-purple splotches across his right cheek and left temple, his swollen, split lip. There are sloping cuts across his forehead, blood dried to the same colour as his shirt.
Linc and Sucre are moving, trotting down the stairs and running to Alex, yelling something that Michael doesn't hear. Whatever it is, Michael doesn't take it in. He's too busy running the opposite direction to the back door, to the docks, to Sara.
His feet land heavily on the concrete as he runs, loud enough that Sara hears him coming. She's on her feet before he catches his breath enough to say, "Alex. He's back."
Sara doesn't waste time with questions, just nods and follows. She heads for the medical supplies kept in her boat, and Michael goes straight for the communal bathroom.
The shower's already running and Linc's standing outside, saying, "Mike, it's okay. He'll be fine," but Michael pushes past him.
Michael doesn't worry about discretion or modesty as he shoves the bathroom door open and yanks the shower curtain out of the way. He doesn't give a damn what the others will think or might see.
Alex jerks around in surprise -- Alex showing obvious reactions means whatever happened was bad, really bad -- and wipes water out of his eyes. "It can wait."
"Your shirt," Michael says, running his eyes down Alex's chest, ignoring the water he can feel splattering his ankles and feet, "I saw--"
"Looked worse than it was," Alex says gruffly, and even his voice sounds rough and hurt.
But he's right, Michael realises. There are nasty bruises, old blood washing down the drain, but he can't see any cuts. No gunshots or stab wounds. Nothing that'll kill.
"Blood wasn't mine," Alex says and Michael doesn't believe it, can't believe it, not until he reaches out, presses fingers flat against Alex's ribcage, feels the muscles move as Alex breathes. "I'm okay."
"We thought--" Michael swallows. Can't say the words. Can't name the fear that Alex was gone, that Alex wasn't coming back and there was nothing he could do. "Wyatt--"
"Wyatt isn't a problem. Not anymore," Alex says, soft and intense. It makes sense: the blood, the time gone, the exhaustion from hiding a body well.
Michael wants to say that's good, wants to tell Alex they've been working on the plan, that tomorrow they'll be good to go, but his throat's tight and his feet are wet and he feels stupid with relief. All he can say is, "Alex," and bury his head against Alex's shoulder as he slides arms around Alex's back.
Michael can feel the shower soaking through his sleeves, his clothes damp from contact, wet handprints on the back of his shirt from Alex's fingers holding him tight. Hears the quiet snick of the bathroom door being closed. He doesn't care about any of it.
He doesn't step back and doesn't let go, not even when Alex wraps a hand around the back of his neck and squeezes gently. Not even when Alex hums low in his throat and says, "Come on, Michael. It's okay. I'm still here."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-10-11 12:10 pm (UTC)Gorgeous.
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Date: 2008-10-11 12:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-11 12:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-11 12:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-11 01:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-11 01:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-11 01:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-11 03:03 pm (UTC)I love this so much! It's 'I thought you were dead' fic, which is another one of my favorite fic-kinks. And there's shower hugging! Which you knew, since you wrote it. Still. Shower hugging!
And, ok, now Alex needs a puppy. Go!
(Hee.)
no subject
Date: 2008-10-11 03:55 pm (UTC)Helena
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Date: 2008-10-11 04:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-11 05:15 pm (UTC)Now, what we should do next is take a leaf out of the SGA fanbook and start a fandom-wide "Alex Needs a Hug" Festival. Complete with fanart, drabbles and ficlets. And vids.
...
What? A girl can dream, right? *grins*
no subject
Date: 2008-10-11 08:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 01:52 am (UTC)A Hug FESTIVAL. That is genius.
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Date: 2008-10-12 05:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 07:31 am (UTC)At any rate, I'd love to contribute if we start this thing. I'm already writing a PB ficlet but I don't see why I can't start another. (Though I need another plot bunny like I need a hole in my head)
no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 09:32 am (UTC)Then that was a lucky guess.
And there's shower hugging! Which you knew, since you wrote it. Still. Shower hugging!
There's something about Alex that suggests nakedness should have a practical purpose, so shower hugging just makes sense.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 09:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 09:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 09:45 am (UTC)It really needs to happen. Along with a Campaign to Make Michael Smile.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 09:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 09:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 09:47 am (UTC)Alex Needs a Puppy
Date: 2008-10-12 10:31 am (UTC)The sales clerk is sixteen, and trying valiantly not to stare at Sara's cleavage. He goes a little red every time Sara smiles at him. "I could get one out if you wanted to hold it."
"Oh, could I?" she asks breathily, and Alex has to fight a smirk. They're here to keep an eye on the security, to try to time their rounds, but Sara seems to be enjoying today's role. "Really?"
"Um, sure," the sales clerk says. He fumbles with his keys, and then pulls one of the puppies out by the scruff of it's neck. He places the fluffy ball of silver fur, black nose and big eyes into Sara's hands and she cuddles it to her chest, cooing about someone being absolutely adorable.
The guard walks by, and Alex checks his watch. "Should I be jealous?" he asks Sara, and she pouts at him.
"Can you imagine anything cuter?" she asks, lifting the squirming puppy up and smiling at it. "I want one."
"You know the apartment doesn't allow pets," Alex says, shaking his head.
"Darling!" There's such a petulant whine to Sara's tone that Alex has to duck his head to hide his grin. "Look at him! He's so cute. I'm sure he wouldn't make any noise. He's so tiny, and all alone."
Sara pushes the bundle of fur into his hands, and suddenly Alex has two hands around an excitable puppy. It yaps twice. "Somehow, I don't think it'll be quiet."
"But he needs a home." Sara pouts again, leans forward with her arms crossed under her bust. The store clerk's face turns the colour of a cherry tomato.
For the briefest of moments, Alex considers agreeing. He could pull out a credit card, pay for the creature now, and claim it was Michael's when they got back to the warehouse. He could even say it was a gift from both of them.
"It just wouldn't be practical, not now," Alex says, handing the puppy back to the store clerk. "Maybe later."
There's a spark of interest in Sara's eye. "When we're living somewhere else?"
"Yeah," Alex replies, feeling like co-conspirators. "They say a pet makes a home."
no subject
Date: 2008-10-12 11:02 am (UTC)Re: Alex Needs a Puppy
Date: 2008-10-12 11:23 am (UTC)Hmm. *pushing her luck* Alex Needs A Cuddle? (From Michael? After A Nightmare? The possibilities are endless...)