Prison Break - General - 036 - Smell
Title: Outrage And Prison Soap
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters: Bellick, Michael
Prompt: 036 - Smell
Word Count: 785
Rating: R
Author's Notes: Honestly? I don't even know where the idea for this one came from. *shakes head*
Brad Bellick had always been comfortable with his sexuality. And after years of telling himself this, he almost believed it. He was no fucking queer, that was for sure. He liked sex with women. He liked going to the titty bars and stuffing dollar bills between the breasts of the dancers. He enjoyed watching porn on a regular basis.
He didn’t fantasize about any of his male co-workers or any of the inmates. Every once in awhile though, he was reminded that he might be just a tad homosexual. But it was rare that he felt this way. No, really. It was rare.
It wasn’t until the day he met Michael Scofield that he thought, “Well shit. This one’s kind of hot.”
But then it turned out that Scofield had an attitude and a smart mouth to boot, and Bellick decided it was better to hate the little son of a bitch than develop a crush on him.
So he made it his life’s purpose to make Scofield’s time at Fox River as miserable as possible.
Tossing his cell was fun. When he went through the place a second time, alone, he couldn’t resist picking up Scofield’s pillow and giving it a hearty sniff. It smelled clean, like soap.
When he sneaked up behind Scofield and asked about Allen Schweitzer, he smelled that same scent. He would later admit to himself, in the privacy of his own bedroom with his hand down his pants, that Scofield smelled good. All the more reason to hate the little bastard.
Now, the bit with Abruzzi and the gardening shears wasn’t quite what he’d expected, and Bellick even felt a little bad for allowing it to happen. When Scofield hobbled past him, held up by two guards, and bleeding all over the place, Bellick saw the pain etched on the younger man’s features and inwardly winced himself. Then he quickly steeled himself and remembered he was supposed to hate the guy.
He took great pleasure in stepping on Scofield’s injured foot the day he found him in the shed. He reveled in the agony he caused, if only to feel better about the strange stirrings low in his belly whenever Scofield was around.
After Haywire was sent back to the psych ward, and Sucre returned to share the cell with Scofield, Bellick couldn’t help but get in the guy’s face about it. Scofield avoided eye contact, but Bellick was close enough to see how tightly clenched his jaw was. And dammit all! He could smell that clean soapy smell on Scofield again.
It was starting to piss him off. In a fit of madness, Bellick swiped two bars of the prison soap and took them home. He’d jerk off while sniffing the bars, and that made his blood boil.
It had gotten to the point where Bellick almost wanted Scofield dead or gone, he just couldn’t decide which. He got to release some of his anger the night that Scofield disappeared from the Warden’s office. He knew the prick had somehow sneaked out, he just didn’t know how. So when he shoved Scofield against the wall, he made sure to really make it hurt. There was a warm body beneath his hands, and that fucking smell was everywhere.
The next morning, he almost did a dance of glee. Scofield was being transferred, and Bellick was in charge of walking him out. He made sure to keep his hands on Scofield for the entire walk, even taking a chance to whisper in his ear. One last touch, one last sniff.
He felt vindicated! Scofield was leaving. He could stop jerking off to bars of soap and go get laid for real!
And then the fucking Warden had come running out, and suddenly, Scofield wasn’t going anywhere. Bellick had a mild, “What the fuck?!” moment, but kept it under control.
Bellick stole two more bars of soap that afternoon.
And then during the riot, he couldn’t help but wonder if Scofield was making out all right in there. He knew for sure that with the air not working and the water turned off, everyone would be smelling pretty ripe by the time it was over.
Including Scofield.
When everything was calm again, Bellick checked out each inmate in every cell. When he reached Scofield’s, he got in real close and sniffed. Scofield flinched a little and glared, unsure of what that was about.
Bellick pulled a fresh bar of soap from his pocket and thrust it at Scofield, who caught it and stared at it.
“Clean yourself up. You stink,” Bellick said.
The next day, as Scofield passed by to line up for breakfast, Bellick smelled the familiar scent and smiled.
~end
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters: Bellick, Michael
Prompt: 036 - Smell
Word Count: 785
Rating: R
Author's Notes: Honestly? I don't even know where the idea for this one came from. *shakes head*
Brad Bellick had always been comfortable with his sexuality. And after years of telling himself this, he almost believed it. He was no fucking queer, that was for sure. He liked sex with women. He liked going to the titty bars and stuffing dollar bills between the breasts of the dancers. He enjoyed watching porn on a regular basis.
He didn’t fantasize about any of his male co-workers or any of the inmates. Every once in awhile though, he was reminded that he might be just a tad homosexual. But it was rare that he felt this way. No, really. It was rare.
It wasn’t until the day he met Michael Scofield that he thought, “Well shit. This one’s kind of hot.”
But then it turned out that Scofield had an attitude and a smart mouth to boot, and Bellick decided it was better to hate the little son of a bitch than develop a crush on him.
So he made it his life’s purpose to make Scofield’s time at Fox River as miserable as possible.
Tossing his cell was fun. When he went through the place a second time, alone, he couldn’t resist picking up Scofield’s pillow and giving it a hearty sniff. It smelled clean, like soap.
When he sneaked up behind Scofield and asked about Allen Schweitzer, he smelled that same scent. He would later admit to himself, in the privacy of his own bedroom with his hand down his pants, that Scofield smelled good. All the more reason to hate the little bastard.
Now, the bit with Abruzzi and the gardening shears wasn’t quite what he’d expected, and Bellick even felt a little bad for allowing it to happen. When Scofield hobbled past him, held up by two guards, and bleeding all over the place, Bellick saw the pain etched on the younger man’s features and inwardly winced himself. Then he quickly steeled himself and remembered he was supposed to hate the guy.
He took great pleasure in stepping on Scofield’s injured foot the day he found him in the shed. He reveled in the agony he caused, if only to feel better about the strange stirrings low in his belly whenever Scofield was around.
After Haywire was sent back to the psych ward, and Sucre returned to share the cell with Scofield, Bellick couldn’t help but get in the guy’s face about it. Scofield avoided eye contact, but Bellick was close enough to see how tightly clenched his jaw was. And dammit all! He could smell that clean soapy smell on Scofield again.
It was starting to piss him off. In a fit of madness, Bellick swiped two bars of the prison soap and took them home. He’d jerk off while sniffing the bars, and that made his blood boil.
It had gotten to the point where Bellick almost wanted Scofield dead or gone, he just couldn’t decide which. He got to release some of his anger the night that Scofield disappeared from the Warden’s office. He knew the prick had somehow sneaked out, he just didn’t know how. So when he shoved Scofield against the wall, he made sure to really make it hurt. There was a warm body beneath his hands, and that fucking smell was everywhere.
The next morning, he almost did a dance of glee. Scofield was being transferred, and Bellick was in charge of walking him out. He made sure to keep his hands on Scofield for the entire walk, even taking a chance to whisper in his ear. One last touch, one last sniff.
He felt vindicated! Scofield was leaving. He could stop jerking off to bars of soap and go get laid for real!
And then the fucking Warden had come running out, and suddenly, Scofield wasn’t going anywhere. Bellick had a mild, “What the fuck?!” moment, but kept it under control.
Bellick stole two more bars of soap that afternoon.
And then during the riot, he couldn’t help but wonder if Scofield was making out all right in there. He knew for sure that with the air not working and the water turned off, everyone would be smelling pretty ripe by the time it was over.
Including Scofield.
When everything was calm again, Bellick checked out each inmate in every cell. When he reached Scofield’s, he got in real close and sniffed. Scofield flinched a little and glared, unsure of what that was about.
Bellick pulled a fresh bar of soap from his pocket and thrust it at Scofield, who caught it and stared at it.
“Clean yourself up. You stink,” Bellick said.
The next day, as Scofield passed by to line up for breakfast, Bellick smelled the familiar scent and smiled.
~end