Prison break fic: Life is Beautiful (Michael/Sara) (PG)
Title: Life is Beautiful
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters: Michael/Sara
Rating: R
Notes: Locked post found while cleaning out posts and deciding what to move to GJ :) I wrote it way back when and it was inspired by this fan video. As usual, set some time after the series ends.
Life is beautiful
but it's complicated
we barely make it
We don't need to understand
there are miracles
miracles
Sunlight filled the room, lightening the corners and casting a warm glow on the walls and the polished floorboards. The two people lying on the bed were fast asleep, bodies tangled together with loving intimacy, dark red, slightly tangled hair fell across the pillow as the man's hand rested lay on top of the sheets.
Suddenly the clock radio on the bedside began blaring music loudly.
Life is beautiful
We live until we die
The man awoke with a jolt, the woman more gradually. "Oh god, you forgot to turn off the alarm again," Sara mumbled in a slightly slurred voice. She was not a morning person.
Michael threw his arm over his eyes and groaned. "As I recall, it was supposed to be your turn to turn off the alarm," he pointed out.
"I had a late shift last night. I was exhausted".
"I know, I picked you up from the hospital. Remember? Although I thought your exhaustion was for other reasons," he said with a sly smile, rolling over on his side and dropping a kiss on her bare shoulder.
Sara laughed. "Don't look so smug," she whispered, slowly waking up. Michael's eyes were warm and filled with humour.
"I can't help it, you screamed so satisfyingly last night," he teased her and she laughed and buried her face against his bare chest as his arms went around her. He dropped a kiss to her hair.
Let them see you smile
And do I hold you too tightly
When will the hurt kick in?
He reached out to turn off the radio but Sara mumbled. "No ... don't," she told him. "I like this song".
Life is beautiful
but it's complicated
we barely make it
We don't need to understand
there are miracles
miracles
Michael's smile was half a grimace. He allowed his lips to trace along the curve of her breast, lingering on the soft smoothness of her skin. There was a time when it seemed as though he couldn't stop saying sorry. His eyes, his touch, his mouth. Eventually, Sara had held him, pressing her mouth against his.
"No more apologies, Michael. I love you - that's all past. You're here now. We're together ...."
"Are you going fishing with Linc and LJ today?" Sara asked drowsily.
"No, they're going on a camping trip. I seem to remember you told me you had the day off," he told her, brushing the hair back from her face.
She nodded, tracing a fingertip down the blue patterns on his chest. Sometimes she felt as though she had memorised every single line. At her request, Michael had explained what each part of the tattoo meant, unfolding the story for her. The extent of his love for his brother and his willingness to sacrifice himself had shocked her.
Michael's eyes darkened as he slid his mouth across the scars on Sara's skin.
"This was where you stitched yourself up," he said, touching her scar lightly. She had told him of how she had jumped from a high window. "My brave, tough Sara," he whispered. She could have had a plastic surgeon remove the scars but Sara had shrugged it off as if it was nothing.
"I don't care about scars," she told him. "Besides my scars are nothing compared to yours," she said, kissing him lingeringly.
"Your scars are my fault," he whispered and Sara shook her head.
"Hey you should have seen the other guy," she told him and Michael laughed despite himself.
"Yeah I know, I'm never going to ask you to do the ironing".
His eyes darkened again. He knew about the torture Kellerman had inflicted on her. Guilt stabbed through Michael, not for the first time. She had suffered too much because of him.
"Stop thinking about it, Michael," she told him, sliding closer to him and stroking him with warm and loving hands. "We're together now".
Michael nodded, eyes closed as he savoured the feel of her soft body against his. His strong, defiant and lovable Sara.
Sara lifted one of his hands, holding it against her cheek. She loved his strong, slender and capable hands.
"You're beautiful, Sara," he told her.
"I think your secretary has a crush on you".
"My secretary is a fifty year old grandmother," Michael said, his eyes brimming with amusement.
Sara rolled onto Michael's body and grinned down at him as his laughed up at her.
"What's that got to do with it?" she demanded.
"And your intern has the hots for you," Michael pointed out.
"Rubbish, Rodney does not have the hots for me," she told him.
Michael slid out of bed despite her protests. "I'll make you breakfast," he told her as she smiled up at him.
When he returned later though, panicked concern filled his face as he discovered her in the bathroom. retching uncontrollably into the toilet.
Strong hands gripped her, pulled her hair out of the way and kept her steady as a voice murmured comfortingly against her temple.
"Sara ...." he said in concern. "Here, rinse your mouth," he said holding a cup to her lips. She gargled and spat, allowing her limp body to be lifted and carried to the bed.
"I can't say I'm flattered that the thought of breakfast by me makes you nausesous," Michael tried to joke. "Food poisoning?" he asked her gently. Sara shrugged.
"Probably".
"Although we did eat the same thing last night".
"You Mr Scofield have a cast iron stomach".
"I have to - to deal with your cooking, Mrs Scofield," he teased her and laughed when she pretended to punch him.
"I'm fine," she protested when he tried to put her back under the covers.
"You rest, I'll bring you breakfast," he told her, kissing her lightly.
***
"I can wash up," Michael said, coming to stand behind her at the sink, his lips warm on the nape of her neck. His hands slid beneath her blouse to touch her skin.
"It's only fair - you did cook after all," she pointed out.
"Yes but that was doing us both a favour," he teased her and she laughed and threw a tea towel at him.
"For that you get to dry up," she told him.
They stood side by side, washing and drying. Chatting casually and listening to the radio at the same time. One year of married life had settled into a warm peace and tranquillity that both loved with a ferocity that was almost overwhelming.
That night, he watched over her at dinner with a anxiety that is almost comical. He made sure she only ate what he ate, he made sure that everything was fully cooked.
In the morning, Sara slid from the bed and bolted to the bathroom in a hurry. Michael was awake in an instant, holding her as she threw up.
"That's it, I'm taking you to a doctor today," he said firmly and Sara laughed shakily as he tucked her back into bed.
Sara took his hand and pulled it over her flat stomach. "Scofield. I'm not sick ... " she said with a smile.
Michael's eyes widened as he stared at her in shock.
"You're ...."
"It's called pregnant," she told him with a smile. "Don't look so surprised. You had a hand in it, you know," she told him as he slid his fingers over her stomach wonderingly. He leaned over and allowed his lips to slid over her skin slowly, lingeringly.
"Our baby's in here?" he questioned with delight dawning in his voice, his eyes kindling with emotion. She allowed her fingers to slide through his hair that he kept short even after all this time.
"I only knew for sure yesterday," she whispered. "I take it you don't mind?" she asked him. "The pill has the occasional failure rate".
"0.1% to 3%," Michael said automatically and Sara laughed and nodded.
"That's right".
"Of course I don't mind," he whispered, his mouth sliding up her body to nuzzle one of her breasts beneath her t-shirt lingeringly. Sara's eyes closed in pleasure, her body arching up against Michael's hand as his long, cool fingers slid inside her tantalisingly. Her thighs parted for him and then he was inside her, hard and insistent. Their breath came in ragged pants and she was smiling in pleasure, clutching his bare shoulders convulsively as he withdrew from her and thrust into her deeply.
"Trying to start another one, are we?" she whispered much later as he slumped onto her heavily.
Michael gave a shaken laugh.
"Maybe a little boy, all serious and nerdy and like his father," she teased him.
"Or maybe a little girl, beautiful and brave like her mother," Michael whispered hopefully, his mouth sliding across hers. "Red hair ... mouthy...."
We don't need to understand ... there are miracles
end
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters: Michael/Sara
Rating: R
Notes: Locked post found while cleaning out posts and deciding what to move to GJ :) I wrote it way back when and it was inspired by this fan video. As usual, set some time after the series ends.
Life is beautiful
but it's complicated
we barely make it
We don't need to understand
there are miracles
miracles
Sunlight filled the room, lightening the corners and casting a warm glow on the walls and the polished floorboards. The two people lying on the bed were fast asleep, bodies tangled together with loving intimacy, dark red, slightly tangled hair fell across the pillow as the man's hand rested lay on top of the sheets.
Suddenly the clock radio on the bedside began blaring music loudly.
Life is beautiful
We live until we die
The man awoke with a jolt, the woman more gradually. "Oh god, you forgot to turn off the alarm again," Sara mumbled in a slightly slurred voice. She was not a morning person.
Michael threw his arm over his eyes and groaned. "As I recall, it was supposed to be your turn to turn off the alarm," he pointed out.
"I had a late shift last night. I was exhausted".
"I know, I picked you up from the hospital. Remember? Although I thought your exhaustion was for other reasons," he said with a sly smile, rolling over on his side and dropping a kiss on her bare shoulder.
Sara laughed. "Don't look so smug," she whispered, slowly waking up. Michael's eyes were warm and filled with humour.
"I can't help it, you screamed so satisfyingly last night," he teased her and she laughed and buried her face against his bare chest as his arms went around her. He dropped a kiss to her hair.
Let them see you smile
And do I hold you too tightly
When will the hurt kick in?
He reached out to turn off the radio but Sara mumbled. "No ... don't," she told him. "I like this song".
Life is beautiful
but it's complicated
we barely make it
We don't need to understand
there are miracles
miracles
Michael's smile was half a grimace. He allowed his lips to trace along the curve of her breast, lingering on the soft smoothness of her skin. There was a time when it seemed as though he couldn't stop saying sorry. His eyes, his touch, his mouth. Eventually, Sara had held him, pressing her mouth against his.
"No more apologies, Michael. I love you - that's all past. You're here now. We're together ...."
"Are you going fishing with Linc and LJ today?" Sara asked drowsily.
"No, they're going on a camping trip. I seem to remember you told me you had the day off," he told her, brushing the hair back from her face.
She nodded, tracing a fingertip down the blue patterns on his chest. Sometimes she felt as though she had memorised every single line. At her request, Michael had explained what each part of the tattoo meant, unfolding the story for her. The extent of his love for his brother and his willingness to sacrifice himself had shocked her.
Michael's eyes darkened as he slid his mouth across the scars on Sara's skin.
"This was where you stitched yourself up," he said, touching her scar lightly. She had told him of how she had jumped from a high window. "My brave, tough Sara," he whispered. She could have had a plastic surgeon remove the scars but Sara had shrugged it off as if it was nothing.
"I don't care about scars," she told him. "Besides my scars are nothing compared to yours," she said, kissing him lingeringly.
"Your scars are my fault," he whispered and Sara shook her head.
"Hey you should have seen the other guy," she told him and Michael laughed despite himself.
"Yeah I know, I'm never going to ask you to do the ironing".
His eyes darkened again. He knew about the torture Kellerman had inflicted on her. Guilt stabbed through Michael, not for the first time. She had suffered too much because of him.
"Stop thinking about it, Michael," she told him, sliding closer to him and stroking him with warm and loving hands. "We're together now".
Michael nodded, eyes closed as he savoured the feel of her soft body against his. His strong, defiant and lovable Sara.
Sara lifted one of his hands, holding it against her cheek. She loved his strong, slender and capable hands.
"You're beautiful, Sara," he told her.
"I think your secretary has a crush on you".
"My secretary is a fifty year old grandmother," Michael said, his eyes brimming with amusement.
Sara rolled onto Michael's body and grinned down at him as his laughed up at her.
"What's that got to do with it?" she demanded.
"And your intern has the hots for you," Michael pointed out.
"Rubbish, Rodney does not have the hots for me," she told him.
Michael slid out of bed despite her protests. "I'll make you breakfast," he told her as she smiled up at him.
When he returned later though, panicked concern filled his face as he discovered her in the bathroom. retching uncontrollably into the toilet.
Strong hands gripped her, pulled her hair out of the way and kept her steady as a voice murmured comfortingly against her temple.
"Sara ...." he said in concern. "Here, rinse your mouth," he said holding a cup to her lips. She gargled and spat, allowing her limp body to be lifted and carried to the bed.
"I can't say I'm flattered that the thought of breakfast by me makes you nausesous," Michael tried to joke. "Food poisoning?" he asked her gently. Sara shrugged.
"Probably".
"Although we did eat the same thing last night".
"You Mr Scofield have a cast iron stomach".
"I have to - to deal with your cooking, Mrs Scofield," he teased her and laughed when she pretended to punch him.
"I'm fine," she protested when he tried to put her back under the covers.
"You rest, I'll bring you breakfast," he told her, kissing her lightly.
***
"I can wash up," Michael said, coming to stand behind her at the sink, his lips warm on the nape of her neck. His hands slid beneath her blouse to touch her skin.
"It's only fair - you did cook after all," she pointed out.
"Yes but that was doing us both a favour," he teased her and she laughed and threw a tea towel at him.
"For that you get to dry up," she told him.
They stood side by side, washing and drying. Chatting casually and listening to the radio at the same time. One year of married life had settled into a warm peace and tranquillity that both loved with a ferocity that was almost overwhelming.
That night, he watched over her at dinner with a anxiety that is almost comical. He made sure she only ate what he ate, he made sure that everything was fully cooked.
In the morning, Sara slid from the bed and bolted to the bathroom in a hurry. Michael was awake in an instant, holding her as she threw up.
"That's it, I'm taking you to a doctor today," he said firmly and Sara laughed shakily as he tucked her back into bed.
Sara took his hand and pulled it over her flat stomach. "Scofield. I'm not sick ... " she said with a smile.
Michael's eyes widened as he stared at her in shock.
"You're ...."
"It's called pregnant," she told him with a smile. "Don't look so surprised. You had a hand in it, you know," she told him as he slid his fingers over her stomach wonderingly. He leaned over and allowed his lips to slid over her skin slowly, lingeringly.
"Our baby's in here?" he questioned with delight dawning in his voice, his eyes kindling with emotion. She allowed her fingers to slide through his hair that he kept short even after all this time.
"I only knew for sure yesterday," she whispered. "I take it you don't mind?" she asked him. "The pill has the occasional failure rate".
"0.1% to 3%," Michael said automatically and Sara laughed and nodded.
"That's right".
"Of course I don't mind," he whispered, his mouth sliding up her body to nuzzle one of her breasts beneath her t-shirt lingeringly. Sara's eyes closed in pleasure, her body arching up against Michael's hand as his long, cool fingers slid inside her tantalisingly. Her thighs parted for him and then he was inside her, hard and insistent. Their breath came in ragged pants and she was smiling in pleasure, clutching his bare shoulders convulsively as he withdrew from her and thrust into her deeply.
"Trying to start another one, are we?" she whispered much later as he slumped onto her heavily.
Michael gave a shaken laugh.
"Maybe a little boy, all serious and nerdy and like his father," she teased him.
"Or maybe a little girl, beautiful and brave like her mother," Michael whispered hopefully, his mouth sliding across hers. "Red hair ... mouthy...."
We don't need to understand ... there are miracles
end