Title: B-Ball
Fandom: Prison Break
Characters: Michael, Lincoln
Prompt: 026: Teammates.
Word Count: 613
Rating: G
Summary: Since when are you the basketball expert, huh?

I'm not, but I've always been better than you.

Disclaimer: Paul Scheuring and a whole lot of other people who aren't me own Prison Break.

Burrows bounces a few times on the free-throw line… silence has settled over the crowd now, you can almost feel the intensity in the arena as Burrows gets ready to shoot what could undoubtedly win this game. He crouches down, ready to take his shot, and…

The ball sails through the air and bangs against the backboard before bouncing a few times and rolling off to the side of the court. Lincoln drops his arms and mutters "shit," as he watches his imagined perfect shot fizzle in reality.

"You're overshooting it," he hears a voice behind him say, and Lincoln turns to see his brother walking towards the fence separating them, rake in hand.

"What?" Lincoln tosses back as he chases down his ball.

"You're standing to close, trying to muscle it into the basket," Michael replies, moving closer to the fence. "You've gotta take a step back and follow through a little more, try to feel the ball in, don't force it."

"'Feel the ball in,' you kidding me?" Lincoln dribbles the ball as he walks back over.

"I'm telling you, it's the same problem you've had since we were kids. You're trying to push it, you can't do that in basketball."

"Well tell me this, genius, how do I take a take a step back and still make the basket without using any muscle?"

Michael rolls his eyes and Lincoln can see a smile hinting at his features. "Obviously you can't uses no muscle, jerk. But it's not football; you can't fight the ball in. That's always been you're problem, you're always trying to push it and you end up overthrowing. Basketball's all about finesse, not strength."

This time Lincoln rolls his eyes and tosses the ball from hand to hand. "Well thank you, Wilt."

Michael grins at him. "I'm just trying to help you out, man. If you wanna keep hitting the backboard, by all means, keep doing what you're doing. But there's a reason you never made varsity in high school."

"Yeah, I dropped out." Michael's smile falters a bit at that and Lincoln instantly regrets saying it. Wanting to keep the conversation light, he says, "and anyway, since when are you the B-ball expert, huh?"

"I'm not, but I've always been better than you," Michael shrugs.

"That so?"

"Yeah, that's so."

"You wanna come over here and say that?" Lincoln beckons him and Michael takes another step towards the fence.

"I said, I've always been – "

Lincoln cuts him off by throwing the ball straight at his head. It hits the fence in front of Michael's face with a smash and leaves the fence shaking as it rolls off once again. Michael jumps back in surprise and Lincoln laughs hysterically at him, loving the sight. He feels for a moment almost as if they're kids again messing around in the park, and the fence separating them isn't really separating them at all. Michael's laughing now too, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly and shaking his head, and Lincoln can almost forget that they're criminals.

"Hey!" The angry grunt of a guard nearby breaks his thoughts and both men turn to look down the fence at him, smiles and laughs evaporating instantly. "What the hell's going on?"

"Nothing, man, sorry," Lincoln replies, bending to pick up his ball. He walks off without looking back at his brother.

"You planning on getting around to your work, Scofield?" he hears the guard ask Michael behind him. "Sometime today, maybe?"

He dribbles the basketball hard, slamming it against the ground angrily and doesn't hear Michael's reply as he watches the ball bounce out of his hands and down the court, out of his reach.

-end-