Name: Small step for a boy...

Fandom: PrisonBreak

Characters/Pairing: Michael/Sara, Michael Jr., one mention of Linc

Genre: het, non-epilogue-complaint, fluff, humour, silly (is that even a category?)

Rating: PG

Word count: approx. 1700 words

Summary: Her hand still rests upon his chest, her face hovering slightly over his. "He will be fine," she reassures him soothingly.

A birthday present for eight8toes who gave this prompt: Michael Jr's first day of school and Michael and Sara's reaction to that. Non-epilogue compliant :)

Small step for a boy...

„I cannot sleep," he groans in annoyance and a trace of anger at himself, his forearm flying to cover his face. There is a tired sigh from beside him and then a hand crawls up his chest, stroking it soothingly.

"You know," she starts, her voice strangely erotic in its sleepy huskiness, "I would understand if he couldn't sleep. But as far as I can tell he is sleeping like a baby."

"But that's just it, isn't it?" he says slightly irritated. "Maybe we should have waited another year. He is only just over five and the other kids will be at least a year older. And he also isn't very tall or muscular. Children can be cruel and if somebody-"

"Michael!" she says in a raised voice. The sound surprises him and finally breaks through his rant. She must have called his name several times, for there is a slight frown on her face, a cute pout gracing her rosy lips.

When she looks him in the eye however, she is calm and serene again. Her hand rests upon his chest, her face hovering slightly over his. "He will be fine," she reassures him soothingly.

"First, he is five and a half. And second, there is simply no point in waiting any longer. The pre-school teachers as well as the school's psychologist said it themselves. He's way ahead of his class and he's already getting bored. He is also emotionally advanced above the average children his age. And last and foremost, he is so happy and excited to go to school himself. So why do you doubt him?"

"I don't doubt him," he retorts grumpily, his voice a little bit hurt. "It's just…" he stops, his fingers slowly crawling up the soft skin of her back, distracting her with the delicate patterns he is drawing over the bumps of her scars. She can barely remember them these days.

He still hasn't continued and although she enjoys his touch very much, she presses the subject just a little. "It's just what?"

"What if the other kids won't like him? What if he doesn't make friends?" he asks, his eyes boring into hers. There is something deep there, a secret worry hidden in a dark corner she tries to access but has failed to yet explore.

"He is a bright, sweet, generous and funny little boy, why wouldn't anybody like him?" she asks, something telling her this goes deeper than their son going to school for the very first time in the morning.

His gaze wanders off, eyes dropping to stare at his chest as if looking for something that's not there.

"His name is Michael…" her husband utters quietly and for a second, she cannot understand what he is getting at.

"So what? It's a beautiful name…" she stops abruptly, "Oh…"

He knows they are at the same page now. His eyes close, his forehead painfully creasing.

"He wears my name," he concludes unnecessarily. There is a moment of silence then he feels his wife's hands - as gentle as ever – cradle the sides of his face.

"It's a great name indeed," she says, a soft sigh escaping her lips. He still hasn't opened his eyes yet. "And your son is very proud to wear it, you know that," she tells him, waiting for him to open his eyes before she presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "And so am I," she adds in a murmur, pressing her lips against his at last.

"Besides, I've always wanted my surname to start with the same letter as my name," she says with a hint of amusement, finally scrounging a small smile from him. "Sara Scofield," she pronounces each word with a pinch of dreamy drama to her voice, "now that sounds like a match made in heaven, don't you think?" She has him smiling at her fully now.

"Well, it has a nice ring," he says with a hint of mischief, then kisses her chastely, first her lips and then her hand, before he presses another one just over the wedding band that has been resting on her finger for over six years now.

She sighs contentedly, bringing the side of her face to rest against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

"He is going to be fine," she says again, returning to their previous topic, her voice deep and soothing, almost tranquil. He loves it when she talks like that. And she knows it.

His chest rises then drops with a deep sigh. "I know," he utters. "I guess I am a little overprotective."

A low chuckle rumbles against the skin of his chest. "Just a little, 'eh?"

He smiles sheepishly, thankful she cannot see in the darkness how the blood rises to flush his cheeks crimson.

"Now sleep," she commands, pressing a final kiss to his lips, nestling against his frame once again.

The next morning, he has trouble eating his breakfast while his son excitedly blabbers over his bowl of chocolate cereal, twittering to his mother about this and that. She is patient with him, a quality Michael always found extremely captivating about her.

They drive to the school in silence - well, in fact it's only Michael who's silent, for his son hasn't stopped jabbering about his new school bag, pencils and notebooks and sneakers and other things the entire drive. In his excitement, he is telling his mom and dad what he will do first thing they arrive at school and how he plans on sharing his bag of sweets they packed for him with all of his new classmates.

Sara merely smiles, an encouraging expression on her face, whereas Michael can barely gulp down his frayed nerves.

Once arriving at the school, they walk him to his new classroom, but still their son shows no signs of fear or hesitation in what's coming next. Surprisingly, the little boy has less reserve about leaving his parents behind than they do. Sara kneels down to his level, stroking his head protectively, lovingly, before plastering a big kiss against her son's cheek despite the five-year-old desperately trying to escape the public display of affection. She merely chuckles, but deep down, Sara realizes with a sad pang in her chest that her baby boy is not a baby anymore.

His father instead pats him on the shoulder before giving him a quick, one-shouldered hug and gently bumping his fist in a way his Uncle Linc does.

Before they know it, their son is off into the classroom already starting to make new friends as he walks over to his cubie. They hover for a moment at the door simply watching him, expecting him to turn at least one last time to wave them goodbye, but the little boy is already at the back of the class showing something to a boy standing next to him on the huge spinning globe.

As they leave the school behind them walking hand in hand towards their car, with the intent to drive some place nearby to grab a cup of coffee or have an early lunch until their son's first day of school is over, Michael is finally able to let out the long rush of breath.

"You were right Sara, I don't know why I was worried so much in the first place. He is going to be just fine," he smiles, stealing a glance at his wife. She doesn't reply, and only now does he notice she isn't even looking at him, her head unnaturally turned in the other direction. She's been too still and quiet ever since they've left the school, but only now does he realize it, only once his own insecurities are gone for good.

"Sara?" he asks carefully, stopping in his tracks and tugging at her hand. She stops as well, but she still won't look at him, her face stubbornly turned the other way. Then she lets out a deep, heart-wrenching sob.

It takes only a fraction of a second for him to comprehend, then a grin slowly starts to steal across his face before he can stop it.

"Of dear, don't tell me you're crying," he lets slip with in low chuckle before he gently forces her to turn towards him. He has to recline his neck in order to look into her bowed face properly.

The lovely features of his wife's face are streaked with tears, even more escaping her eyes as she gives him a look of utter misery. A bubble of laughter threatens to erupt from his chest but then she is reprimanding him with a stern look, her hand slapping his chest before it comes to rest there to steady herself.

"Oh, shut up!" She masters to bark out before breaking into a sobbing heap in front of him.

He does as he is told, taking mercy on her and embracing her instead, tucking her tightly and securely against his chest. She hides her face against his shoulder, the wetness of her eyes coming into contact with the skin of his neck as he rocks them back and forth, a slow smile playing across his lips all the while.

"I'm afraid the main storyline behind Finding Nemo is still escaping us, huh?" he says softly, his light joke helping when he feels as well as hears her barky laugh against his shoulder.

"He will be fine," he tells her soothingly, his hands gently dancing over her back.

"I know," she whispers back in a reiteration of their conversation from the night before.

"Now c'mon, let's go and have a cup of coffee," he pauses, "Or lunch."

She snickers then nods, finally untangling from his solid frame a bit unsteadily. He gently wipes away the remaining tears from her face and carefully smoothens out her soft red hair, all the while giving her an earth-shattering smile. God, how he only loves this woman.

"Maybe we can share a happy meal," she quips, a small twinkle appearing in her eye and he cannot help but laugh out loud.

"Alright, but you gotta let me keep the toy," he jokes back with a raised finger as if to make a point.

"Deal."

END

A/N: Comments are love.