(no subject)
Title: P if for
Pairing: Michael/T-Bag, Michael/Lincoln.
Chapter IV
P is for Powerless
“Wakey, wakey, Pretty.” T-Bag said, slapping a sleeping Michael lightly with his cold hand which was wet from having just washed his face. That was one thing that Michael Scofield failed miserable at - waking up on time. T-Bag leaned down and pressed his mouth to the boy’s in a quick harsh kiss that made Michael’s face screw up as T-Bag hadn’t yet brushed his teeth.
“I’m not surprised you got beaten so often as a child if you could never get up on time!” T-Bag remarked and Michael gave the rapist a half hearted glare as his lethargic body struggled to wake up. He saw the other inmates filing out of the cell block towards the mess for breakfast and stood up to join them, ignoring the fowl taste of cum in his mouth from last nights session. His eyes caught sight of the new inmate he had spotted the night before and he just stood there for a full two minutes, staring at the man as he left his cell and followed Sucre out to the mess. T-Bag noticed and took him angrily by the elbow, forcing him to dress quickly before T-Bag dragged him out of the cell.
Reaching the mess, Michael’s eyes immediately sought the new inmate again - who was sat at Sucre’s table - and upon seeing this T-Bag got angry. “Don’t make me remind you who you belong to, Pretty, because we both know you won’t like it and I’m happier when you are happy boy, but don’t mistake that for me honestly being interested in your happiness. I will cut you up unless you remember your place.”
Michael’s heart stopped for a minute and his eyes fell to the floor. He passed by Sucre’s table without looking up but T-Bag saw how the new inmate’s eyes watched Michael as they sat at their own regular table. T-Bag placed an arm around his boy’s shoulders bring Michael uncomfortably close to T-Bag’s unwashed body.
Michael fed himself quickly as if he was scared someone would take his food away and honestly he was - T-Bag was in a weird mood, possessive and unpredictable. Yes there was a certain power bias in their relationship; T-Bag held all the power but Michael didn’t always feel like this… so… powerless.
“You coming?” T-Bag asked, standing up abruptly and yanking a startled Michael up with him. Michael glanced around and found that the mess was almost empty. He blushed and realised he must have gotten lost inside his own thoughts - something which he had relied upon to get him through the first few years at T-Bag’s side but he rarely ever accidentally slipped off. It was a worrying sign.
Michael allowed himself to be dragged off to the showers where T-Bag and himself stripped down. Other than the way Teddy was pulling Michael around like he was some kind of doll - the paedophile was pretty much ignoring Michael and he wasn’t sure how to take that.
Was Teddy bored with him? That could never be a good thing because then Teddy might stray and leave him to the wolves; or even worse give him to one of his gang. They all had a cruel glint to their eyes and not one of them cared for the way Michael had been kept by T-Bag for the past eight years.
Michael kept looking T-Bag under his lashes as they both showered and dried themselves off without a word being spoken. It was fifteen minutes of silence and Michael felt like he was being punished for something but he wasn’t quiet sure what. Then Lincoln Burrows and Sucre walked though the door and Michael discreetly watched the taller man undress.
All of a sudden he found himself thrown against a wall with T-Bag’s arm pressed up against his windpipe. Even as Michael struggled to breath he noticed that all of the inmates in the showers had turned to watch including Sucre’s new cellie.
“You got something to tell me, boy!” T-Bag snarled. Michael’s eyes were watering with shame and the struggle. He shook his head quickly hoping that would end the conflict quickly.
“Hey!” The new inmate’s voice boomed over to them. Michael could see out of the corner of his eye as Sucre slinked away into the background. T-Bag let Michael go and he sunk to the floor, wheezing and coughing as T-Bag turned his attention to the new inmate.
“I’m sorry but what exactly is your take in all this? Why are you butting into business that ain’t your concern?” T-Bag sauntered over to the larger man, an evil gleam in his eyes.
“No reason to rough the kid up like that, surely.” Lincoln said.
T-Bag’s eye brows shot up. He looked around the room as if to say ‘can you believe this idiot?’. “I couldn’t be hearing right, now could I? Because I just think I heard some big fish telling me what I can and cannot do to my property!” T-Bag shouted the last bit, his face was now red and his hands clenched into fists at his side. Michael saw all of this and knew he needed to defuse the situation before Lincoln ended up bloody on the floor and Teddy - his protector when he wasn’t his tormentor - ended up in the SHU.
So he found his way to his feet and made his way carefully over the slippery titles towards Teddy. Reaching inside the older man’s pocket he pulled it out and held on to it like a child holding a parent’s hand while crossing the road - just like the way T-Bag had taught him to do so when he had first offered him protection.
“C’mon, Teddy. Let’s go back to our cell. Please.” Michael begged.
“See that?” T-Bag said to the room. “My boy here wants some loving.” He crowed and a few of the white supremacists laughed crudely. Michael kept his eyes on T-Bag not letting them wonder hoping the rapist would believe him and return peacefully to their cell. “Best not to keep this young thing waiting. Come along, Pretty.” T-Bag said and walked away with Michael holding his pocket.
“You shouldn’t have interfered.” Sucre muttered to Lincoln. “You have only made things ten times worse. For both you and Michael.” Sucre walked off.
Michael knew what Teddy’s problem was - he was jealous and angry. Which could only mean bad things.
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