Deshabille
Title: Deshabille
Author: wrldpossibility
Characters: Sara Tancredi, Michael Scofield, Lincoln Burrows
Word Count: 260
Rating: PG
Spoilers: 4.01.
Summary: She’s pretty sure this has happened to her before, but never in a conscious state, and certainly never as a result of running for her life.
Author's Note: This is written in reponse to jennaxrose's awesome prompt HERE, in which she asked for fic where Sara, Michael and Lincoln realize she's run out of the house without her pants. Much thanks to the wicked smart msgenevieve for providing me with the title.
Deshabille [day-zab-beel]: the state of being partly dressed
She’s pretty sure this has happened to her before, but never in a conscious state, and certainly never as a result of running for her life. Because ear-splintering, glass-shattering gunfire and public nudity combined in the same dream? That almost never happens.
Therefore, Sara deduces with a sense of impending doom, this must be reality.
Lincoln is the first to notice. To his credit, they’re already at least five full miles from Bruce’s safe house before he breaks the panicked silence in the back of the cab with something marginally resembling an amused grunt badly disguised as a cough. Maybe it should be attributed to general nerves, but it comes out louder than even he appears to have intended.
“Huh.”
Michael turns his head questioningly from the window to his brother. Even though his line of vision falls directly across Sara‘s bare thighs, he must have eyes only for the danger they‘re desperately barreling away from, because he replies with guileless concern. “What?”
So much for his powers of observation. Sara opens her mouth to draw his attention to her lack of attire only to close it, opting instead to simply bury her head into the welcome sanctuary of his shoulder. Right about now, she wouldn’t mind disappearing along with her pants. A second later, Michael must finally clue in, because she feels the weight of his jacket fall across her lap.
She opens her eyes to see Lincoln shrug, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly for the first time since they were reunited. “Nothing,” he answers with an air of mock disinterest. “Just filling in a few blanks, bro.”
Author: wrldpossibility
Characters: Sara Tancredi, Michael Scofield, Lincoln Burrows
Word Count: 260
Rating: PG
Spoilers: 4.01.
Summary: She’s pretty sure this has happened to her before, but never in a conscious state, and certainly never as a result of running for her life.
Author's Note: This is written in reponse to jennaxrose's awesome prompt HERE, in which she asked for fic where Sara, Michael and Lincoln realize she's run out of the house without her pants. Much thanks to the wicked smart msgenevieve for providing me with the title.
Deshabille [day-zab-beel]: the state of being partly dressed
She’s pretty sure this has happened to her before, but never in a conscious state, and certainly never as a result of running for her life. Because ear-splintering, glass-shattering gunfire and public nudity combined in the same dream? That almost never happens.
Therefore, Sara deduces with a sense of impending doom, this must be reality.
Lincoln is the first to notice. To his credit, they’re already at least five full miles from Bruce’s safe house before he breaks the panicked silence in the back of the cab with something marginally resembling an amused grunt badly disguised as a cough. Maybe it should be attributed to general nerves, but it comes out louder than even he appears to have intended.
“Huh.”
Michael turns his head questioningly from the window to his brother. Even though his line of vision falls directly across Sara‘s bare thighs, he must have eyes only for the danger they‘re desperately barreling away from, because he replies with guileless concern. “What?”
So much for his powers of observation. Sara opens her mouth to draw his attention to her lack of attire only to close it, opting instead to simply bury her head into the welcome sanctuary of his shoulder. Right about now, she wouldn’t mind disappearing along with her pants. A second later, Michael must finally clue in, because she feels the weight of his jacket fall across her lap.
She opens her eyes to see Lincoln shrug, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly for the first time since they were reunited. “Nothing,” he answers with an air of mock disinterest. “Just filling in a few blanks, bro.”