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Brother's Comfort	By : Kayerfire Category: M through R > Prison Break Views: 1865 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break or any of the characters nor do I profit in any way, shape or form. I do not condone rape, incest or any of that stuff. It's just a fanfic.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
He woke with a dull pain in his ass. Literally. Sucre blinked his eyes, trying to register who, what and where. His body ached, courtesy of the hard floor beneath him. Why was he sleeping on the floor? He rubbed his eyes. The uncomfortable itch of carpet to his crotch area caused him to shift.
Wait why was his bare crotch in the carpet?
He glanced down, realized that his pants were at his ankles. What the fuck?!?! Alarmed, confused and shaky with dread he jumped to his feet and fixed his clothes. This stunt had T-bag written all over it. Had that bastard raped him in his sleep? He was considering the pain in his ass when he nearly tripped over a pile on the floor.
It took him a second to register that it was in fact two bloody bodies, one on top of the other.
He instantly recognized Lincoln as the top. Beneath him T-bag, battered and broken.
"Linc?"
He crouched to his knees, felt for a pulse. They were both breathing but Linc didn’t look too hot. His skin was too pale and clammy.
"Yo, Linc, what happened? Where’s Michael?"
He glanced around the room and found him. He was unconscious, slumped halfway off the opposite end of the couch. Sucre’s heart started as he rushed to see if he was okay. His pulse was strong.
"Aye Papi, wake up! We have a situation."
He shook him. Michael didn’t move.
"Come on. Something’s wrong with your brother!"
He slapped him a couple of times. When he still didn’t move Sucre stepped back. What the hell had happened?! He turned his attention back to Lincoln. Swallowing hard he pulled the big man off of his enemy and moved him to the couch. Why were T-bag’s pants down?
Then he saw the blood on Lincoln’s belly.
"Oh shit."
What to do? Thinking was always Michael’s department. He bit his fist. Linc should probably be lying down. He shifted him, lying him across so that his head rested on Michael’s lap. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, which gave a clearer view of the wound. Sucre inspected it best he could but knew it was out of his area of expertise. A medical professional he was not.
He would just have to wing it.
"Stop the bleeding," he said aloud.
But how? Searching his mind for the limited knowledge he had on the matter, Sucre suddenly remembered a movie he’d seen once. A cowboy had been shot in the stomach clean through. In order to stop the bleeding he’d taken a hot poker and cauterized the wound. It had worked.
"Dios mio," there were no hot pokers here.
And he couldn’t build a fire, the smoke would attract attention. He’d have to use the stovetop. But what object could he use for the poker itself? A knife might do more damage. He glanced again at Michael for help.
What had T-bag done to him? Turning his, attention back to Linc’s issue he began searching the apartment for anything metal to be used. He found his answer covered in blood a few inches from where he’d awoken. A screwdriver. Was that what Linc had been stabbed with?
He retrieved it and hurried to the kitchen. Because the apartment was an older model, the stove was gas. Sucre was thankful as he turned the dial to be greeted with blue flames. He set the screwdriver in its midst. How long should he let it sit? He wasn’t sure. While he waited, he checked in on the unconscious three. His nose wrinkled when he looked at T-bag, completely exposed with his pants at his thighs. He’d have to ask Linc about that later. Bagwell couldn’t be allowed to wake before the others. The bastard would have to be bound.
A few bedsheets and torn curtains later that’s exactly where he landed, bound to his own bed. He couldn’t hurt anyone but himself now. After dealing with T-bag he went back to Linc. The screwdriver should be hot enough now. He took it from the stove, noticed it’s red tinge and feared if it was too hot. What damage would that do? Could he actually make things worse? Deciding that red was too hot he set it down to cool. He used the downtime to check Lincoln’s vitals again then Michael’s.
Then he tried to piece together the events of the morning. He remembered blowing Michael—that had been fun. His friend was pretty animated in bed, his body sensitive and eager. His reactions alone made you want to cum too quick. He’d tasted even better than he’d imagined as well. His skin was warm honey. Sucre glanced over at him. He wouldn’t mind tasting him again. In other ways as well...if he were into guys.
He remembered Mike mentioning that Lincoln had walked in on them. Then he’d gone to talk to him. Sucre had been nervous about that. He couldn’t bear anyone thinking he was a maricón. He remembered dropping his water and suddenly he was waking up on the floor with his pants down. Again the concern of rape popped up but if he’d been raped his ass would be on fire. Certainly more than the dull pain he’d felt earlier. Still, why the fuck was his ass hurting at all?
T-bag. The son of a bitch. He’d handle him. Later. But now he had to focus. It was time to cauterize Lincoln’s wound. He said a prayer for both Linc’s safety. Then another for his own once Linc woke in pain. Then he did what he had to do.
Lincoln’s entire body came alive as the pain tore him from his slumber. His eyes shot out as he screamed out loud his agony. Sucre stepped back, out of his reach.
"Linc? You with me?"
Sweat ran down his straining face as he tried to process the pain. Green eyes struggled to focus his way.
"What...the fuck...Sucre..."
He was well enough to curse him. Good.
"You’re bleeding too bad, man. I had to cauterize the wound."
Lincoln began to tremble whether with rage or pain he wasn’t sure.
"Michael...where’s Michael?"
Sucre gestured above his head.
"Behind you. He’s your pillow. He’s out though. I couldn’t wake him up. What the hell happened?"
Linc turned his head, saw Michael above him and looked back at him.
"Fucking T-bag...stabbed me. He drugged you and Mike somehow. Tried to rape you."
He grit against the pain.
"I literally saved your ass, amigo."
He felt his anger flare up at the confirmation. Bagwell was so going to get it now!
"Good looking out. Now let me save your life."
They had no alcohol. With four felons sequestered and one predatory and lustful, it hadn’t seemed a good idea. Now Sucre wished they hadn’t listened to Michael on that one.
"Okay, Linc. You’re going to have to bear with it. I gotta do it again."
Lincoln nodded, grimace on his face, and turned away toward Michael.
"Do it."
The second application was rougher than the first, simply because he was aware that Linc was aware. Third time seemed to do the trick. He split for the kitchen and dropped the screwdriver in the sink.
"Water, you’ll need some," he called as he reached into the fridge.
His patient grunted in response. To be safe, he brought him two bottles. As Linc could barely move at the moment, Sucre opened one and pressed it to the ailing man’s lips. He swallowed a few sips before snatching it away with a wince. Lincoln Burrows was no invalid.
"You and Mike were drugged but I’m okay," he noted.
"Did he give you anything like food or something to drink? Stick you with anything?"
Sucre shook his head. Bagwell hadn’t even made it out of bed that morning as far as he knew. The closest to interaction they’d had was him dragging T-bag back to their room and strapping him to the bed just now.
"No, he didn’t even get up."
Linc shifted, visibly in pain.
"Well did you eat anything? Did Michael? I haven’t had shit all day. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t affected."
He brought the bottle to his mouth again and started to drink while Sucre thought on his question. He wasn’t sure what Michael had done before he’d come to the kitchen but he himself hadn’t had the chance to eat on account of the blacking out. Aside from Michael’s heavy load of cum that morning the only thing he’d ingested all day was...
"No!"
He leaped to his feet and knocked the bottle from Lincoln’s hand. Water splashed the both of them, the remaining liquid spilling out across the carpet.
"What the—
"It’s the water!" he exclaimed.
"Michael and I both had water. That’s all I had."
Linc glanced down at the emptying bottle.
"The water?"
It came back to him now.
"In the kitchen, after me and Michael—"
he caught himself, felt his face tinge at Linc’s eyes on him. He’d walked in on the activity between the two.
"We were thirsty. He drank a whole bottle before he went to talk to you. I didn’t get to finish mine because I dropped it."
More like threw it down in an anxious moment as he’d considered the ramifications of Lincoln knowing he’d gone down on his baby brother. But he wasn’t going to tell Linc that.
"Shit. He drank a whole bottle?"
Sucre nodded. He looked Michael over, still dead to the world.
"Wonder what it was T-bag gave us. Or where he got it from."
"Some nothing drug dealer most likely. You did go on a supply run the other day right?"
He hadn’t thought of it but yes, that would’ve been the perfect opportunity.
"He got back a lot later than I did! Claimed he almost got spotted or something. You think he still has some on him? Maybe I can find out what it is."
Lincoln shut his eyes against his pain. His complexion was taking on an ashen tone.
"Go for it," he suggested.
Sucre rushed for the bedroom then and began rummaging through it all. He started with T-bag’s pockets. Nothing there. He then turned the place upside down, drawers, under the bed, he felt under the mattress until...
"What’s this?"
He found a rip at the seam, within it a torn napkin holding something hard. He pulled it out. Opened it up. Found four white pills.
"Linc, I got ‘em!!"
Back in the living area he showed Burrows his findings. Lincoln studied them, his brows knit as he tried to figure them out.
"You recognize them?"
"No, you?"
Sucre hadn’t been in the drug circuit.
"No. But they look fancy. Like out of a pharmacy."
Lincoln narrowed his eyes.
"Obviously the dealer has a hook-up. I never sold anything like this though."
He could tell it was taking a lot of effort for his friend to stay conscious. He’d lost a lot of blood.
"We need to get some food in you."
"Yea, spiked with T-bag’s drugs, I don’t think so."
"You at least need apple juice. When my cousin donated blood she always got apple juice and graham crackers."
Lincoln scoffed.
"I’m not in the mood to eat."
He eyed the pills again.
"I wish I knew what they did to my brother."
Again looking to Michael, Sucre stood and felt his pulse. Lincoln watched him as he opened Mike’s eyes and peered into them. Still out like a light.
"You lied to me."
He glanced from Michael to his brother.
"Huh?"
"You said nothing was going on between you and my brother. That you weren’t into guys."
"I’m not," he blurted before he could stop himself.
Even in his condition, Lincoln managed a side eye.
"After what I saw this morning I’d beg to differ."
Sucre felt himself flush.
"That was different. Michael’s different."
"I hate being lied to."
He couldn’t look at Linc.
"I didn’t lie. Nothing had happened with him yet when you asked. It just happened today," he admitted.
"So the whole time you were in Fox River you never took advantage of him?"
Took advantage? That offended him.
"What? No! I’d never do anything to hurt Michael. But for the record he’s fully capable of taking advantage of other people if he wanted. He’s not as helpless as you think."
"You saying he took advantage of you?" Linc scoffed.
"No, you and I both know his heart is too pure for that."
There was a brief silence.
"You really care about him?"
Sucre answered honestly.
"I do."
"You know anything about T-bag messing with him?"
He’d warned Michael that Lincoln would figure it out. He just hadn’t expected it to be this soon. Either way, he didn’t want to be the one to break Michael’s trust.
"Messing with him?" he played dumb.
"Don’t fucking lie to me, Sucre. I already know."
He met Linc’s eyes finally and confirmed that yes he knew.
"How?"
"T-bag, right before he stabbed me. Guess he figured I’d be dead so it wouldn’t matter. But I didn’t believe it until I looked at your face. You knew."
His green eyes glinted with anger.
"How long has this shit been going on? And why the fuck didn’t you say anything?"
Despite his weakened state Lincoln Burrows could still be quite intimidating. Sucre had a feeling had Linc not lost so much blood he’d have him in a headlock or something equally as uncomfortable.
"A week. Michael was too ashamed for you to know. I figured it must be blackmail so I tried to stop him. It worked for one night but...well now we’re here."
Linc struggled to sit up. He made it, went dizzy and faltered. Sucre reached to assist him but was met with a heated glare.
"You let T-bag fuck my brother for a week under the same roof and never said shit to me?"
He wanted to throttle him, it was obvious. Sucre had to defend his silence.
"You didn’t see him. He was terrified of you finding out. And to be honest, we both know what you would’ve done because I wanted to do it too."
Lincoln was breathing hard, exertion from sitting up getting to him.
"I’m going to fucking kill him. Where is he? He’s fucking dead."
The threat would be more credible if Linc didn’t look halfway there himself.
"You need to rest. Eat something. Replenish your blood supply. Or the only one dead will be you."
"I told you I’m not touching shit in there!"
"What about packaged stuff? Like cookies? He couldn’t reseal that," he suggested.
Lincoln didn’t object.
"What kind?" he finally relented.
Sucre ran off to go see. When he’d found Oreos and an unopened carton of milk, he brought it to him. As he watched his best friend’s brother start on the snacks he again felt compelled to confess to him.
"He’s really confused, really vulnerable with this. You wouldn’t understand how he’s feeling. You’ve never been through it."
Lincoln glared.
"Don’t tell me what I wouldn’t understand. He’s my brother."
Stubborn ox. Didn’t get what Sucre was trying to say.
"He’s never been...Linc, this was his first time with a man. Ever. And it was with T-bag."
He let that sink in. When he saw understanding dawn on his friend’s face he continued.
"We both know he’s good with the planning and logic stuff but this thing has him all mixed up. I don’t think he knows or understands what’s happening to him. But he’s ashamed. And he’s scared. And he needs you to be there, even more than me. Because you’re his brother."
Lincoln finally seemed to be getting it. Instead of anger, another expression took his face. He looked over at Michael.
"Fuck."
Sucre leaned in, feeling concern for Linc now.
"You all right?"
"This is my fucking fault. If he’d never gotten me out he never would’ve met T-bag or been a fugitive or any of this shit!"
In a fit of guilt he shoved the snacks away.
"Abruzzi took his toes, T-bag took his..."
Perhaps it was the weakness from the loss of blood, maybe the pain of the cauterizing but this was the most emotion he’d seen from Lincoln in the whole time he’d known him. Aside from anger anyway.
"He lost too much. Because of me. Because of me!"
Linc bit his lip, visibly holding back. Maybe he wanted to scream. Maybe he wanted to cry. Whatever it was, he struggled to reign it in. Sucre watched, unsure of what to do. Had it been Michael before him, he’d easily move forward, wrap an arm around him for comfort. But he and Lincoln hadn’t gotten that close. And even if they had, Linc wasn’t exactly the touchy-feely type. He’d probably shove Sucre off in some prideful, macho gesture. Still, he was hurting and Sucre couldn’t let the brother of his best friend hurt this way.
"Linc?"
Besides, he’d grown to consider him a friend too.
"This ain’t on you. You were innocent, right?"
Lincoln didn’t look at him.
"I should’ve just took the wrap, plead guilty. Let them kill me."
He couldn’t allow that kind of talk.
"You know what that would’ve done to Michael? You dying? It would’ve destroyed him."
"He’d have gotten over it. Hell someday I really am going to die so what’s it matter how soon?"
Now he was talking off the rails. If Michael heard this he’d have a meltdown. Without thinking on it, Sucre was on the couch, grabbing Linc’s face.
"Don’t you ever talk about dying again, you understand? That would kill Michael. Literally kill him inside. Neither of us wants that."
Lincoln was either too surprised or too weak to fight him off but the instinct was in his eyes.
"Besides there are other people that want to see you breathing. Like LJ. And me."
They were silent then, his words hitting their mark. Lincoln cleared his throat as he regained his composure.
"Sucre."
"Yea?"
"Get the fuck off me."
That was the Lincoln Burrows he knew. He scooted back, removing his hands from his friend’s face but didn’t leave the couch.
"We end this now," Linc resolved, "T-bag fucking dies NOW."
He tried to stand, lost his balance and fell back down.
"Didn’t I tell you? You lost too much blood."
Linc was shaking, breathing kind of quick and shallow. There was no color in his face.
"I’m going to kill him," he grunted, still trying to get up.
"I’m—"
Sucre shoved him back down, determined to keep him from overexertion. Before Linc could protest, he applied more pressure, including a hand to his mouth.
"Stop it, meijo. You’re too injured. Let me deal with it."
Of course the big man glared up at him. But he had to put his foot down. He found the cookies on the floor and dropped them in Lincoln’s lap.
“Eat. Now.”
Begrudgingly, Linc complied.
“I’ll handle T-bag,” Sucre repeated.
“Don’t worry about it.”
What he didn’t say was that he was worried himself. Because he had no idea what to do about T-bag. Sure, Linc had a very definite idea but Sucre had never taken a life before. Even a life like T-bag’s was still a life. The funny thing was that he’d dreamed of doing just that the night before but now presented with the chance he knew he couldn’t. Not while the creep was tied up and beaten down.
“I’ll be right back.”
He left the brothers to check in on their unconscious prisoner. T-bag was still secured. Sucre folded his arms and pondered his fate. Even if he could kill in cold blood, what would Michael say? It was one thing to do so in self-defense but this would be vengeance. He would never be the same. Michael would never see him the same. He had to admit, he wasn’t the hardest felon on this escape. Someone like Abruzzi would’ve had no problem ending T-bag right there and now. But Abruzzi was dead, just like Tweener and C-note and Haywire. All at the hands of the FBI. He ran a frustrated hand down his face. Apparently the feds had no problem taking out their enemies. As he considered that reality, he remembered Lincoln’s idea the night they’d stayed out plotting. Just beat the shit out of T-bag and turn him in. Why not? Linc had already administered the beatdown. All they needed to do was get to a safe location that Bagwell couldn’t rat out and call the feds.
And he said Michael had all the ideas in the family.
Ironically T-bag had been the one to push their plan forward. By stabbing Lincoln he was forcing Michael to make a choice. And everyone knew what that choice would be. Sucre couldn’t help the broad smile that suddenly split his lips. Things had worked out perfectly. They could finally be rid of T-bag once and for all.
But first thing was first, they needed to get away. To do that they’d need a car. Thanks to his cousin Palo growing up, he’d developed the necessary skills for that.
“Linc, I need you to hold things down,” he requested as he hit the living area again.
“I’m going to get us a car.”
Lincoln grunted in response but asked no questions. Sucre appreciated it. Who had time to explain? He set out on his trek, optimism flooding inside. This was really happening. They were actually going to pull it off!
While Sucre was away, Michael began to stir. Lincoln noticed but there was nothing much he could do so he watched his brother with hope in his eyes. Their friend wasn’t gone too long nevertheless, by the time he returned Linc was barely able to hold his eyes open.
“Come on, I got you.”
Sucre was sure to park around the back, not that there were really any neighbors to notice, but he couldn’t be too careful. The first thing he did was check on Linc. He noticed that his friend was fighting to stay conscious. He was losing that battle.
He’s too weak to move.
Though Sucre considered himself a pretty fit guy he didn’t like his odds of carrying his friend’s dead weight. Lincoln wasn’t a small man.
“You know Linc, you really could’ve laid off the cheeseburgers,” he joked.
Lincoln didn’t respond but another welcome voice did.
“Linc loves his red meat,” Michael croaked.
Relief filled the Latino as he turned to see Michael stretching his long limbs. Just like every morning back in Fox River, he was beautiful.
“Dios mio, I’m glad you’re awake!”
Without thinking he threw his arms around Michael, earning a grunt of surprise from his waking friend.
“Sucre, what’s going on?”
“I need you to help me get your brother to the car. He’s hurt pretty b—”
He was cut off when Michael noticed his semi-conscious brother sharing the same couch.
“Linc!”
Sucre wasn’t sure if he’d moved or been tossed aside but the next thing he knew he was struggling for balance as Michael inspected his brother.
“What happened?!”
His gray eyes were already wet.
“T-bag happened, Papi.”
Michael glanced at him then and Sucre visibly winced at the anguish in his best friend’s eyes. It hurt his soul to see Michael in such pain.
“Teddy did this?”
Mike’s attention went back to Linc, feeling his forehead, checking his wound, audibly gasping at the damage.
“I had to cauterize it,” Sucre explained.
“He was losing too much blood. I tried to get him to eat something but we don’t know what all T-bag drugged.”
Michael’s head snapped his way at the word.
“Drugged?”
“Yeah. He drugged our water. Some weird pills.”
Mike’s face blanched.
“You drank more than I did so you were out all day. Linc kept him off us. I got him tied up in his bed.”
He didn’t mention the attempted rape, mainly to protect his rep. Plus, that sting in his asshole when he’d awoken hinted that it was more than an attempt.
“He needs antibiotics,” Michael was tending to Linc again.
“I can get some. There’s a pharmacy three blocks away. When you sent us out I saw it.”
Michael nodded.
“Okay.”
“Papi, listen. You, me and Linc gotta go. I lifted us a car out back. T-bag ain’t coming. You okay with that?”
He watched the open emotion play on his best friend’s face, a rare sight. The pain and fear for Lincoln, the guilt for his involvement with the man who’d stabbed him. Realization at what Sucre had told him.
“We’re turning him in, aren’t we?” he asked quietly.
Sucre nodded.
“He tried to kill us. If it wasn’t for your brother I’d be a corpse right now.”
Michael didn’t comment but his eyes spoke his turmoil. He was hurt. Betrayed. Apparently Mike had believed that T-bag wouldn’t hurt them for him.
“We need to get Linc to the car.”
It wasn’t easy with him unable to stand but the two managed to get Lincoln laid out across the backseat. Mike included blankets and propped his head up with a pillow. Sucre had left the car running on account of the lack of keys.
“Stay here,” Michael instructed.
He began to argue but the grave resolve in Michael’s eyes stopped him.
“Be careful,” was all he could say as Michael re-entered the apartment to confront his lover.
Linc had done a job on him. Teddy looked a mess. Michael stood over him, his pills retrieved safely in his pocket. He reached out a hand to touch Bagwell’s now unrecognizable face on account of the beating.
“That you, Pretty?”
His voice was dry, gruff. Mike brought his hand back to his side.
“Why, Teddy? Why would you do this to him?”
He didn’t have to specify which him.
“Because he would never let me have you.”
Michael stared.
“You’re mine, Scofield. But you and I both know your brother would never allow that.”
Michael felt his lip quiver but didn’t allow anything further. This was entirely his fault. Despite the incredible guilt, he would not cry in front of T-bag.
“You keep saying that. Ever since the first time we…” he swallowed, unable to say it without remembering.
“We fucked,” T-bag finished for him, amused.
Michael cleared his throat.
“Ever since then you’ve been saying that but whether or not it was true—”
“I recall you saying it yesterday when I had you facedown on your brother’s bed—”
“That all ended the second you touched Linc,” he finished.
Bagwell shifted in response.
“What I don’t understand is why you would do the one thing in this world that would hurt me the most. Why hurt the one person in this world I love the most. If I truly mattered to you?”
He blinked back the pools in his eyes. It hurt, knowing that his actions had brought this on Lincoln. But that wasn’t the only pain he felt. Just when he’d started to actually care for T-bag, to open up to him and the possibility of…more.
“I couldn’t let him take you away,” Bagwell said quietly.
He looked directly into Michael’s eyes. Both men were filled with emotion. A longing. Mike leaned closer and a tear finally escaped down his cheek.
“Yet by your actions you drove me away.”
He felt a pain in his chest at what he had to do. But after what T-bag had done to Lincoln there was no option.
“Goodbye, Theodore.”
His fingers found T-bag’s nose, pinching off his air supply. Bagwell’s eyes widened and he began to struggle against his bonds. His mouth shot open, desperate for air. That’s when Michael shoved the pill in, quickly clamping Teddy’s jaw shut after. T-bag glared, tried to spit, flung his head around wildly in an attempt to loosen the grip & expel the contents of his mouth. Determined, Michael stood fast. Tears flowed freely now as he held him down, knowing perfectly well what awaited his first lover once all was said and done. He’d never get to see him again. Touch him again. Fuck him again. T-bag would be right back in Fox River. If Mahone didn’t get to him…
“I hope you understand, this is the only mercy I’ll show you, Teddy. If you ever try hurt my brother again I will not hesitate to end you.”
Bagwell growled, still fighting. The look he gave Michael then was a combination of lust and malice rolled into one. It caused the young man’s cock to twitch. Mike didn’t release him until he was sure that the pill had dissolved. He’d timed it long ago, the amount of time it would take with saliva alone. He received his confirmation when Bagwell's struggle lost tenacity. His eyes slowly became less focused. Then he stepped back.
“Mine,” T-bag managed as he glowered his way.
“You will... always… be mine… Scofield.”
It was a declaration, a promise and a threat. He would never let him go. Michael stared down at the man who’d literally rocked his entire world in just a week.
“Goodbye Teddy.”
And he left him, making his way toward freedom and the brother he’d share it with.
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Brother's Comfort