Title : Brothers By Definition
Disclaimer : Me no own, You no sue
Warnings : Incest
Note : This fic is dedicated to Dana, who gave me all these wonderfully scrumptious Prison Break slash sites. I thank you from the bottom of my heart (if I can find it).
Note2 : Also "thew" is a real word that means: "Well developed muscle or sinew" and "Muscular power or strength. Often used in the plural."
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Lincoln.
Lincoln Burrows.
Your older brother. You confidante. Your best friend. Your lover. Your first… everything.
He was the one who needed to be watched. He needed the special attention and you were always there to give it to him. He hated cages and chains and was always capable of breaking out. And every time you undressed him, you would trace chiseled muscles and to you, nothing was a bigger turn-on than to have all that raw power beneath your fingertips. You love the feeling of that coiled thew that is your brother's body and you love knowing that all the that strength that is your brother would go to defending you without a second of hesitation.
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Michael.
Michael Scofield.
Your younger brother. Your tutor. Your charge. Your best friend. Your lover. Your… whole world.
You lie on the couch as he sits on the floor, leaning over the homework spread out on the coffee table and you love the look of concentration that spreads over his features. You watch as his jaw muscles clench and unclench as he works out the problems in his head and then scribbling fiercely onto his paper. He's told you countless times that you are not allowed to touch when he's doing his homework, you can only watch and even then you know that he finds it hard to concentrate. But you've been watching him his whole life and you realize that that'll never change so long as you have a say in it.
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Lincoln Burrows is your older brother.
That's all you tell the other inmates and that's all they need to know. And though some of them question further, you just warn them that some questions should never be asked. They back down but a few still wonder, though they wonder quietly, always quietly.
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Michael Scofield is your younger brother.
You remember the first time he came home with a black eye. After some poking and prodding he said that some kids had ganged up on him and taken his lunch money. You had felt the anger burn in your chest and through gritted teeth you promised you wouldn't do anything. The thing was, you were never really good at keeping promises. You remember checking up on him during lunch the next day, you remember seeing him being thrown against the wall, you remember shouting and screaming and blood wetting your fists as you landed punch after punch on the bastards that had dared to touch your baby brother. You don't remember the rest of the day, the fact that those fuckers weren't dead just really pissed you off.
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Burrows.
The name you refused because it belonged to a father you never even knew. But now that it also belongs to your big brother, you almost start to wish that you had taken it. Almost.
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Scofield.
The name you sometimes wish you could have because it belongs to a mother that you've always loved and a younger brother you know is always gonna be there, unlike the father you barely even know... barely even remember.
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Michael and Lincoln.
The names of your sons. You watch as Lincoln cares for Michael and defends him and you watch as the years bring them impossibly closer and closer. You watch as Lincoln sinks further and further into the pit of soceity and as Michael drifts further and further up and away, climbing the corprate ladder after corprate ladder. You watch as Lincoln is falsely accused of a crime that he did not committ and you want to cry, but your mother comes along and places a strong hand on your shoulder and tells you not to worry, she has a feeling that things will be okay. "Besides," she whispers in your ear, "there are no tears allowed here."
And still you watch. You watch as Michael formulates his plans for getting Lincoln out of this mess and then carries them out, making adjustments when necessary and you wonder where it was he got those brains from, because it sure as hell wasn't from you or his father. You watch as they run across the air strip, then back across the field. You watch as they manage to flag down a passing car, knock out the driver (not kill, and you thank Him for that), and make their escape. You watch as all cop cars suddenly have blown out tires and you nod at the angel standing next to you and thank him, he merely smiles and walks away. You don't like the company your boys have but so long as they are safe, you're perfectly happy, because that's all you really want.
You watched your boys as they made their grand escape, as they break away from the others and continue on their own way. You watched as they get their white sand beaches and scuba shop. You watch as they once again become impossibly closer and the police have nearly given up on ever finding them. You watch as John Walsh puts their pictures and MO's on America's Most Wanted and you can't help but think that it's all okay, because you know that no matter how hard anyone tried, they could not match Michael's wit or Lincoln's instinct.
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Their names were Kaden (which meant "fighter") and Cyrus ( meaning "sun") and they were two of the most beautiful men I had ever had the privilege of setting my eyes on. No one knew their last names and the last person to ask was laughed at, loudly. They were the two people who used to own the scuba shop down by that old crab restuarant. They were nice and got along with everyone.
Kaden was a big man with a shaved head and a mean look, at least until he smiled and greeted you to his shop. Cyrus was the smaller one who never went anywhere without a long sleeve shirt that was sometimes rolled up to expose tatooed arms. I remember a young fellow who asked about them once, Cyrus just shrugged his shoulders and said "I just got really drunk one night." I remember them not being the best of divers at first, but they eventually got the hang of things; they were decent after a few years; and then they were experts after a few more.
I remember talking to Cyrus long into the night. He would speak about his brother Kaden, about how their life had had many hardships, and about how all he really wanted to do was go somewhere where they could live in a paradise. He said that he wished they could stay here forever, I would ask why he couldn't, and he would just shake his head and say, "What a beautiful night."
They both had a dark past that no one ever really talked about out loud, it was something that you whispered of in a bar over a nice bottleneck.
That's why when they just up and disappeared one afternoon, I myself wasn't to surprised. The surprise came when later that afternoon, the shop was swarming with FBI agents from America.
I don't know what ever happened to them but if I were to guess, I probably wouldn't like the answer. So I pass by the empty shop on my way down to the beach, and I pray to whoever is listening that Cyrus was able to take his brother to that paradise that he so longed for.
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