Music By Memory Slash Michael/Sucre PG
Title: Music By Memory
Author: mispel
Pairing: Michael/Sucre
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Yup, minor ones
Summary: Sucre's preoccupation while in his new cell
Note: Just a short piece
What was the difference? New cell, new cellmate. But all these cells looked the same. In the dark it was like the same old cell - gray and black where the gray got swallowed up. Sucre could hear the other guy's harsh breathing up in his bunk.
Sucre's mind kept drifting where it shouldn't. It didn't matter if he closed his eyes or opened them. It didn't matter whose body was really up there. His mind was like a dog that clamped his jaws down on a bone and wouldn't let go. If he fought it, it fought back - he would just stay awake longer thinking those thoughts. If he just coasted along, he might trick himself into letting go, falling asleep before it got too far. The guy in the other bunk started to snore all of a sudden, and Sucre snapped out of it.
That bastard took away Maricruz, took her away when Sucre needed her more than ever. It's never been this bad. He needed her.
On the outside, it wasn't so hard. He could look. He could touch. Then he could go home. On the outside, you could hide what you were doing. No problem. That was no good here. Cooped up with all these men. Most of them weren't worth spitting on. A glimpse of Linc would get him going, but he hardly ever saw Linc. Sucre could handle it OK as long as Maricruz came by to take care of him. But now that it was worse than ever, Maricruz wasn't there. The thousand men weren't the problem any more. They were nothing. It was Michael, with those eyes, those damn eyes.
Sucre was glad to have an excuse to be out of that cell. Relieved. But the first night in his new bunk, he knew it was no good. That guy snoring in the bunk above him, it might as well be Michael. That's how he felt. He got inside his head. It didn't matter that Michael wasn't there, or that he didn't snore like his old dog before they had to put him down. In the dark, it was all the same.
Sucre's mind was playing the old tune by memory. The snoring was fading into the background. That was Michael up there. If Sucre got up quietly, he could watch him sleep. He might reach over and not dare to touch him. Michael's face would be fresh and clear in his head when he lay back down. Sucre's mind would play a tune. His hand would play a tune, and he'd bite his lip so no sound would come out.
The End
Author: mispel
Pairing: Michael/Sucre
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Yup, minor ones
Summary: Sucre's preoccupation while in his new cell
Note: Just a short piece
What was the difference? New cell, new cellmate. But all these cells looked the same. In the dark it was like the same old cell - gray and black where the gray got swallowed up. Sucre could hear the other guy's harsh breathing up in his bunk.
Sucre's mind kept drifting where it shouldn't. It didn't matter if he closed his eyes or opened them. It didn't matter whose body was really up there. His mind was like a dog that clamped his jaws down on a bone and wouldn't let go. If he fought it, it fought back - he would just stay awake longer thinking those thoughts. If he just coasted along, he might trick himself into letting go, falling asleep before it got too far. The guy in the other bunk started to snore all of a sudden, and Sucre snapped out of it.
That bastard took away Maricruz, took her away when Sucre needed her more than ever. It's never been this bad. He needed her.
On the outside, it wasn't so hard. He could look. He could touch. Then he could go home. On the outside, you could hide what you were doing. No problem. That was no good here. Cooped up with all these men. Most of them weren't worth spitting on. A glimpse of Linc would get him going, but he hardly ever saw Linc. Sucre could handle it OK as long as Maricruz came by to take care of him. But now that it was worse than ever, Maricruz wasn't there. The thousand men weren't the problem any more. They were nothing. It was Michael, with those eyes, those damn eyes.
Sucre was glad to have an excuse to be out of that cell. Relieved. But the first night in his new bunk, he knew it was no good. That guy snoring in the bunk above him, it might as well be Michael. That's how he felt. He got inside his head. It didn't matter that Michael wasn't there, or that he didn't snore like his old dog before they had to put him down. In the dark, it was all the same.
Sucre's mind was playing the old tune by memory. The snoring was fading into the background. That was Michael up there. If Sucre got up quietly, he could watch him sleep. He might reach over and not dare to touch him. Michael's face would be fresh and clear in his head when he lay back down. Sucre's mind would play a tune. His hand would play a tune, and he'd bite his lip so no sound would come out.
The End