First Drabble
Though busy, I've been trying to write a bit. Good for the soul (depending upon the content, I suppose). I wrote a little Michael/Lincoln drabble, and thought I'd share- no spoilers really, unless you've never watched the show at all.
Title: Free Falling
Author: stage_master
Pairing: Michael/Lincoln
Rating: pg-13ish
Disclaimer: I don't own anything put the plot, so please don't take anything from my broke student ass.
There was always that sense of sliding to the edge with Lincoln. There was also the sense that no matter how many times he fell, he always cushioned your fall; if Michael didn’t know better, he would think his brother a masochist. But much of the older brother’s actions did not stem from forethought or planning (infuriatingly enough), but rather from this mass sense of loyalty- and almost possessive protection . The fact that this loyalty was often limited to his little brother sent Michael’s emotions into something that vaguely resembled a box of puzzle pieces, with Lincoln being the only one who could put them together. Sadly enough, the man-child had not the time nor the patience for the broken pieces of his blue-eyed little brother, and made due with making enough money to fill a plate and place it in front of the boy. Love was not lacking, just the means by which it could express itself; for all of his openness, Lincoln didn’t like to delve too deeply into matters that he could not solve with his hands. Or his intimidation.
Michael watches his brother now, who is sprawled across his expensive bed in his expensive apartment with the sheets kicked down to his feet. Skin that had recently gleamed with sweat now shone dully in the light that was coming from the partially curtained windows, and a calloused hand dangled to the tastefully carpeted floor. The younger man sits against the ornate headboard, cool Egyptian cotton sheets pooled at his naked waist, hand on his older brother’s broad back. And all Michael can think of as he ponders the line he’s just crossed, the ledged he’s just leapt from, is: how did I drag him down with me?
Title: Free Falling
Author: stage_master
Pairing: Michael/Lincoln
Rating: pg-13ish
Disclaimer: I don't own anything put the plot, so please don't take anything from my broke student ass.
There was always that sense of sliding to the edge with Lincoln. There was also the sense that no matter how many times he fell, he always cushioned your fall; if Michael didn’t know better, he would think his brother a masochist. But much of the older brother’s actions did not stem from forethought or planning (infuriatingly enough), but rather from this mass sense of loyalty- and almost possessive protection . The fact that this loyalty was often limited to his little brother sent Michael’s emotions into something that vaguely resembled a box of puzzle pieces, with Lincoln being the only one who could put them together. Sadly enough, the man-child had not the time nor the patience for the broken pieces of his blue-eyed little brother, and made due with making enough money to fill a plate and place it in front of the boy. Love was not lacking, just the means by which it could express itself; for all of his openness, Lincoln didn’t like to delve too deeply into matters that he could not solve with his hands. Or his intimidation.
Michael watches his brother now, who is sprawled across his expensive bed in his expensive apartment with the sheets kicked down to his feet. Skin that had recently gleamed with sweat now shone dully in the light that was coming from the partially curtained windows, and a calloused hand dangled to the tastefully carpeted floor. The younger man sits against the ornate headboard, cool Egyptian cotton sheets pooled at his naked waist, hand on his older brother’s broad back. And all Michael can think of as he ponders the line he’s just crossed, the ledged he’s just leapt from, is: how did I drag him down with me?