author:
Velvetine
fandom: Prison
Break
pairing: michael/sucre
rating:
pg-13
warnings: mild slash
time
period: sometime during their prison stay
length:
approx. 500 words
Mind Games
Hey Papi," came a thickly accented voice from the bunk above. Michael smiled softly to himself; he loved it when Sucre called him 'Papi'.
"Yeah?" he mumbled, his voice heavy and coarse with sleep.
"What are you thinkin' about?" his cellmate asked innocently.
"Nothing." he grunted, noncommittally, as usual. He didn't like people trying to get into his head, much less through questioning.
"You're thinkin' about something, Papi." He heard Sucre shift on his matress. "You're always thinkin' about somethin'."
"Yeah, well...for once I'm not thinking about anything." Michael lied, smiling to himself for the second time; he knew he had a tendency to overthink things.
"I'm not stupid, Michael."
"Fine," he exhaled in mock exasperation. "I'm thinking about the plan."
"Liar." Sucre shot accusingly. There was
no reply as Michael simply sighed.
There was a tense quiet,
unbroken save for the occasional ruffle of sheets.
"You're
thinkin' about the doctor, right?" Sucre attempted.
"Who? Tancredi?"
"Yeah."
"What about her?"
"You like her, don' you?"
"No." The answer was curt and blunt. "Well, she's alright, a little too eager with the needle sometimes." Michael joked unconvincingly.
"Seriously, do you like her?"
Michael chuckled causing the cheap, metal bed frame to shake. "Is that a hint of jealousy I hear, Sucre?"
"Shut up, fish." came the cold reply.
"I liked 'Papi' better." Michael smirked.
"Shut up, Papi."
"You asked me what I was thinking. You started this."
"You didn't answer."
"Yes, I
did."
"No, you didn't, Michael"
"Yes, I
did, Fernando."
"No, you didn't."
"No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did!"
"No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did, Papi."
"Are you jealous?"
"Of course!" Michael heard a loud gasp and another ruffle of sheets; he supposed Sucre had tried to bury his head in what passed around here for a pillow. He smirked silently to himself, though still unsure of what he had just heard.
"Michael..." his cellmate started slowly and hesitantly.
"It's okay, buddy." he said automatically. "I wasn't thinking about her," Michael blurted out to no one in particular, breaking the uncomfortable silence reigning the room.
"Who
were you thinkin' about?"
"...Someone else."
"Your wife?"
Michael exhaled deeply. "No, Sucre, I was not thinking about Nika."
"Yes, you were."
"No I wasn't."
"Yes you were."
"No I wasn't!"
"Yeah."
"No."
"Who was it then?" Sucre asked, sensing that Michael was on his last nerve.
"It was you-" It was Michael's turn to shut his mouth, slowly realising what he's said.
"Gotcha" came too happy a reply from above. He could feel, rather than see Sucre smiling. It was that same smile as when he figured something out; it was that same smile that made Michael melt.
"Shut up, Fernando."
"Mi-"
"Goodnight, Sucre."
A soft chuckle emanated from the Puerto Rican. "Sweet dreams, Papi." he whispered in his thick accent, sending a shiver down Michael's spine.
