50 sentences written for 1sentence
. Sam Winchester/Michael Scoffield, Supernatural/Prison Break Crossover (unrelated to Cellmates).
First he hits the wall – and then the fist attached to the angry face, but Michael is only mildly concerned; there is motion out the corner of his eye, and then Sam is standing over Michael’s attacker, who is gasping and bloodied.
Sometimes it’s so hot on the cell block that they lose their shirts, turn magazines into fans – anything to stay cool; Sam tries to avert his eyes from Michael’s skin, telling himself that the tats are what draw his gaze time and again.
Sam keeps a weathered photo taped to his wall – he’s young in the picture, staring up at an older boy holding a shotgun; the look in his eyes hasn’t changed over the years – Michael’s seen its likeness in his own reflection, staring at Lincoln through prison glass.
Sam makes one last grab at self control – he bites his lip and holds his tongue, but as the shirt is peeled from Michael’s burn, Michael whimpers; Sam buries his face in the curve of Michael’s shoulder and strokes Michael’s hair, says the words he hadn’t meant to think when all this started.
When word got around, Avocado teased him just once – about going from “bein’ the Sink’s bitch to bein’ Winchester’s” and liking “e’m big and rough”; it was the wrong thing to say in Sam’s presence.
Their first time is fierce, but Sam has a soft touch - he grabs Michael and Michael steels himself, expecting pain; he gets gentleness, care, and eases into Sam’s embrace, letting Sam take control.
Sam has a lot of reasons not to get involved – Michael is full of secrets and Sam hasn’t let anyone close since Jess’s death; he has only one good reason to take the risk anyway, but it’s enough.
Sam paces the cell like a caged animal while Michael’s in the SHU – he counts to ten to keep his calm; it doesn’t work, so he just keeps counting.
His smile is deadly and suddenly John remembers that he is alone, that Winchester is crazy, and that he might be at the top of the pecking order in gen. pop., but that he wasn’t immune to being brought down; “The next time you touch him, Abruzzi… the last thing you won’t
see is me coming for you.”
Sam learns to trust Michael’s plans, but he can’t teach himself not to question the danger Michael puts himself in to follow through with them.
The world is a blur and then it’s over, Sam is back in himself, back in the present; he holds onto Michael until Michael promises to let Sam take care of T-Bag, images of a future and Michael’s broken body fresh in his head.
He doesn’t realize how serious it’s become until he gets word from Dean and has to tell him to wait, that he wants to do things Michael’s way; Michael won’t leave without Lincoln, and Sam… Sam isn’t leaving without Michael.
Sam rolled his eyes when Dean took Sam’s first boyfriend aside, in the tenth grade, and gave him the I’ll-just-be-sharpening-my-knives
speech; Dean studies Michael, his tats, Lincoln – he stands closer to Michael than needed when he talks and goes into gory, unnecessary detail when describing a case – nothing has changed.
It isn’t usually about control – they do what feels right – but Sam does enjoy the times when Michael takes command; Michael’s genius is not limited to activities outside their bed.
It’s hard to hold on – Michael’s skin is slick with sweat; Sam gives up, fists his hands in the bedsheets instead - lets the movement of their bodies rattle the bunk slightly, its protests filling the cell alongside ragged breaths and soft moans.
The thought of hanging a sheet is humiliating, but there’s no way around it – the need is too great, and with the first brush of skin on skin they’ve forgotten to care about the world on the other side of the white linen.
The first time Sam has a vision in Michael’s presence it’s intense and it scares Michael; he holds Sam, speaks to him, calls for the bulls – the kiss comes at the last moment and startles them both.
The Winchesters received a lot of media attention during the last few years of their “crime spree”, but Michael finds it difficult to reconcile the news reports with what he knows of Sam himself.
They think it’s a miracle – Sam had been covered in blood when he brought Michael in, and Mahone had claimed it was a kill shot; Sam sits at Michael’s bedside and holds his hand, swallows, thinks of crossroads and kisses… and knows better.
In another life Michael was a structural engineer – Sam would have been a lawyer; Michael can picture them in their separate worlds, with suits and ties and normal lives, but he isn’t certain anymore that normal would be worth it.
Michael feels foolish – he doesn’t have time for this, and he can think of few worse places to find someone than prison
, but he can’t help wanting.
Two months after the break, Sam tells Michael the “truth” – a week later he murders a young man he believes to be a “werewolf”; Michael lays in bed that night, close to Sam, feeling the burden of responsibility for the madness he’s let loose on the world.
Michael asks Sam about the scars he finds, one by one, here and there on Sam’s body; Sam makes up stories for childhood wounds Michael wouldn’t understand and resists the urge to ask Michael about his own – he knows that Michael would do the same.
Sam doesn’t want to do the right thing – he wants to be selfish now; for once, he wants the world to sacrifice for him
- but it isn’t in Sam to let the werewolf continue killing, so he does his job, tells Michael what he’s done, and prays that he won’t regret it all tomorrow.
Sam wants them to get along, but Michael can’t understand why Dean has a problem with him; Dean glares at Michael, dark shadows underneath his eyes – hating the man his little brother has sold his soul to protect.
He doesn’t want to say it, but this…so much has gone wrong; Dean’s waiting in the parking lot, Lincoln’s waiting with LJ, and there’s been a look in Michael’s eye - since the werewolf - that makes Sam feel like Michael’s goodbye has already been said.
Michael doesn’t know what secrets Sam is hiding, but he knows they’re there – he’s seen Sam fight, heard him cry out in his sleep.
The second the money is in their hands Dean starts talking about Reno, Sam frowns and Michael smirks; then T-Bag returns and everything goes downhill.
They stop when it’s safe, at a rundown motel just outside the city - Lincoln and LJ are shaken, but Dean acts as if nothing’s happened (as if a demon’s a demon, even wearing a president); Sam has been watching Michael closely and Michael can barely hold back his grin – monsters are real… but so is Sam.
They meet up with a friend of Sam and Dean’s who hands everyone a rifle; he gives Michael special instructions, and laughs when Michael’s startled by the big, friendly figure who appears as soon as human hands are lain on Michael’s borrowed gun.
Michael usually likes to go by the books – when he makes a plan, he follows it, but Sam has made him rethink things; his original plan hadn’t accounted for Sam, and Michael finds it hard now to follow one that doesn’t.
He sees them together in the Yard and feels more helpless than ever – Michael may be smart enough to take care of himself, but taking care of Michael is his job, it always has been; Michael can say anything he wants about Winchester, Lincoln is going to keep an eye on the kid until he’s sure that it’s safe to let Winchester get close to his little brother.
Michael has never liked surprises, and this… whatever he has with Sam is unexpected, but it’s too late to stop it; when Sam tells him that his brother Dean has been looking for a way to get Sam out, the thought makes Michael feel as though he’s run out of Pugnac.
He’ll never forget the moment they finally broke through – dust and plaster filled the air, Sucre was singing in the background; Michael laughed beneath Sam’s mouth and, months away from their goal, they felt as if they’d already busted free.
It’s all so sudden it doesn’t seem real – Sam sees Mahone lift his weapon, hears the shot, but he can’t believe it’s happening until he feels Michael’s warm blood, Michael’s cooling skin, his own scream crawling up his throat and past his tongue.
His head throbs from the vision, his hands shake, but he breaks their kiss and rolls beneath Michael, tells him to do it, tells him not to stop; Sam needs the warm weight of Michael on top of him, the sharp sting of Michael’s teeth, the burn of fast and frantic fucking to remind him that it’s over and keep him in the here and now.
Michael is in the cell and tries to keep a blank face when they bring the transfer in – he’s taller than Bellick and his shoulders fill the open doorway; “Winchester, Scoffield,” Bellick introduces, “meet your new cellie.”
Showering is the worst – it hurts to move his right arm, he can’t get the bandages wet, and just the sight of steam makes the burn ache with sense memory – but when no one else is around Sam takes the washcloth and then Michael doesn’t hate the process quite so badly.
Michael is torn, knowing what he should do and that he can’t do it – can’t send Sam back there, even if prison is where Sam belongs; Michael rationalizes – there’s so much blood on his hands already (thanks to T-Bag, Mahone), why shouldn’t some of it pay for his happiness?
Sam doesn’t know the history between Michael and Lincoln (“The Sink”) Burrows, but when he sees them together questions nag at Sam jealously.
Michael has a pretty good punch, he’s smarter than Sam’s ever dreamed of being, and he’s capable of anything when he has to be; Sam could still take him down, but the power Michael has over Sam has nothing to do with the threat of physical danger.
Dean doesn’t know why he bothers; he could talk to Sam until he’s blue in the face – Sam is going to do whatever, whoever
, he wants.
“If we can’t find Sam a way out of this, I swear to God – the moment my brother’s dead, I’m gonna make you wish it were you.”
He feels bones give way in his fist and his skin break, but he punches the wall again; it hurts to breathe around the sobs he won’t let free – he knows that Sam did it to save him, but all Michael feels is damned and angry.
He can’t get the image out of his head now, and he curses himself for being so careless in the shower; all he’d gotten was a glimpse, but it keeps Sam awake, and hard, in his bunk for hours.
He isn’t sure how fast he’s going, and some hysterical part of himself warns him that Dean will kill if he wrecks the Impala; better to think of that than of Michael, slumped in the passenger seat, blood soaking the leather.
“I don’t care what they’re saying in the Yard, Lincoln - Sam didn’t harm me, and I trust him with my life.”
“Well, well, Pretty, looks like this time your boyfriend ain’t around to protect his precious little-”
Demons never die in the human sense, so they live only for pleasure; she hungers for the thrill owning not one, but two
young souls could bring her, and so she says, “It’s a deal – win him and he’s yours; lose and your soul is as forfeit as his.”
He feels light-headed by the time they come up for air, surreal; Michael cares for him, Sam’s known that – but to have Michael believe in him… the thought is nearly enough to make Sam giddy.