Ties Are Optional
A/N: Okay, so apparently I'm in the mood for one-shots. This was actually
miss_vacant's plot bunny that she gave to me. I hope this entertains her briefly. She gave me the heart of it with Lincoln's big line about shirt buttons. Thanks, honey! *blows kisses*
The day Sara Tancredi decided to go on the run with Michael Scofield and Lincoln Burrows, she made a lot of other unconscious choices. Being the woman with two men automatically put her in a certain position, regardless of equal rights and respect and whatever. They were men and she was a woman, and so some things fell to her, just as other things fell to them.
When they exposed the conspiracy, when their lives were suddenly not in danger, but celebrated instead, the changes that happened so quickly required the three of them to make some fast adjustments.
That was when Sara Tancredi learned that no matter how much you tried to dress Lincoln Burrows up, he would still be busting out of his clothes. Busting out was what he was born to do, whereas Michael’s busting out was a one time only deal. To get him back into suits and staid clothes, ties, suspenders and loafers, was like slipping a baby into its mother’s arms. Nothing fit so perfectly or shaped itself to him like those very items.
Sara pressed her fingers to her mouth, suppressing some giggles that kept trying to erupt as she watched Lincoln fiddling with the tie around his neck. He pushed it slightly to the left, heaved a great big sigh and pushed it slightly to the right. A muttered, "Fuck me," escaped under his breath and then he leaned closer to the mirror he stood in front of as if a closer inspection would straighten the small strip of cloth.
She heard a noise and glanced down the hall of her apartment to see Michael emerging from her bedroom, the dark blue suit he wore pressed perfectly and the red and yellow designed tie lying in flat harmony against the white dress shirt covering his chest. He smiled and cocked his head, his eyes traveling the length of her own body, one that wore an ivory linen skirt suit with a dark purple blouse. "Ready?" he asked huskily, his eyes darkening as they traveled the length of her legs not covered by the skirt.
She knew that look. She knew under normal circumstances, that look would take them back into the bedroom. "Just a minute," she said quietly, and then she walked into the bathroom Lincoln occupied.
"Need some help?" she asked softly, drawing Lincoln’s eyes away from his tie in the mirror to her eyes just over his shoulder in the mirror.
"I could hear you laughing at me," he grumbled, his eyes darting back to the tie momentarily. Then with a heavy sigh of defeat he asked, "I can barely be bothered to do up my shirt buttons, how am I supposed to contend with this?"
"Honey, you don’t have to contend with it. I’ll help you." Sara sidled her way in between him and the sink and tugged the tie undone. "Let’s just start all over again, shall we?" she asked, looking up into his eyes as her hands performed a task they had done many a time.
"How do you know how to tie a tie? Without even looking?" he asked, squinting at her.
"My father taught me how to tie one, for him, and for myself. It’s one of my many talents. I can do it frontwards or backwards, with my eyes closed, with my arms around the neck from behind...any way a tie can be tied. See?" she asked, patting his chest as she pushed the knot up to his Adam’s apple.
He stepped back half a step and then looked down at the tie, which was blue and black pinstripes, contrasting nicely with the black button up he wore under an equally black suit. "Wow, that’s amazing. Not that I’ll ever wear another one of these ever again after today, but wow." His eyes came back up. "I love you, Sara. Without you, I’d be in front of TV cameras today looking like a giant schmuck."
"Hey," Michael said from the doorway. He had stepped up to fill the spot Sara vacated in her repairing of the tie. "I can hear you making a play for my woman."
"What are you talking about?" Lincoln asked, slinging his arm around Sara’s neck and tugging her towards where Michael stood. "I made my play for her about two months ago. She’s all mine, buddy."
Michael arched a brow as Sara wrapped her arms around Lincoln’s middle section and pressed her lips to his stubbly cheek. "Yeah, sorry, Scofield, it’s a done deal," she said, winking cheekily at him.
"Great," Michael said, pretending to pout. "At this press conference, when they ask us the nature of our relationship, at least I’ll know what to say."
"What’s that?" Lincoln asked , releasing Sara from their faux embrace.
Michael straightened his tie for the mock audience. "Yes, Fox News Reporter, after I broke him out of prison, he stole my girl. Why, yes, I do think they are planning a TV movie-of-the-week about it."
Lincoln smirked. "Well hell, you know they’re planning a TV movie about it, that would just make it even nastier. But whoever they get to play me, he needs to have a nice chest, because not just anyone can wear their shirts the way I normally do."
Sara stuck her arm through Michael’s as they walked up the hall, towards the front door, with Lincoln following them. "The man has a point."