Lincoln Burrows awoke to the sound of loud and incessant banging. He shot up in bed, his heart racing, and shook Michael.
"Hey, Mike, I think someone's at the door." He hissed in his brother's ear. Instantly awake, Michael Scofield opened his eyes, cocked his head, and listened.
"What do we do? What if the Feds found us? I need to get LJ." Linc was half out of bed and to the door when a slender, tattooed arm reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him.
"I think you'll find that that's not what that noise is." Michael grinned, chuckling and watching his brother's face go from pale white to beet red in understanding, embarassment, then rage.
"Are you kidding me?!" He growled, glaring at the wall venemously. "My son is less than twenty feet away." Linc the Sink stomped over to the wall that seperated his and Michael's room from the master bedroom, where T-Bag and Abruzzi slept. Although, judging from the sounds they were making, they definitely weren't sleeping at the moment.
Now that he was fully awake, Lincoln could hear the accompanying moans and growls and grunts and creaking of the bed as well as the sound of the headboard banging against the wall.
"Hey!" He yelled, banging his fist on the wall. "Knock it off! I'm trying to sleep!"
"Then shut up and sleep!" Came the growled reply from Abruzzi, as well as a loud laugh from T-Bag. Lincoln smashed his fist against the wall again, this time leaving a sligt indent in the thin wall.
"I'm not kidding, you assholes! My son is sleeping and I swear to God if you wake him up with your... acitivities, I'll rip you in half!"
"Little late for that, Dad." Called LJ from the other room, trying not to laugh. "I've been up for almost an hour."
By now, T-Bag was cackling with hysteria.
"Relax, Sink," he drawled, "We're teaching him a thing or twooooo..." The murderer's sentence abruptly petered off into a moan, and the banging noise resumed, louder than before. Lincoln snarled and stalked to the door, intent on making good on his promise, when his brother's voice stopped him.
"You're really gonna go out there like that?" Michael questioned form the bed, glancing up and down at Lincoln. The older brother's face colored when he realized that he was naked except for a pair of white boxers and he growled once more before yelling, "You two idiots better be far, far away when I wake up again or so help me God I will make sure you can't have children!" This was met with more laughter, with Sucre and C-Note joining in from the living room this time.
Muttering obscenities and cursing under his breath, Lincoln crawled back into bed and pulled his brother closer to him, burying his face in Michael's back, draping an arm over his stomach and sighing.
"Don't worry, Linc. LJ is sixteen, and I'm fairly certain he's been exposed to that before, if not from the internet then definitely lately." Michael murmured soothingly, rubbing his hand up and down Lincoln's arm in a gesture of comfort.
"Still," Linc growled overprotectively, "Those two murderers don't need to be exposing my son to stuff like that." His brother chuckled quietly.
"Linc, I think you might wanna worry more about his roommate than his next door neighbors."
"What're you... Oh no. No. Hell no." Lincoln shot back out of bed, boxers be damned. "Please don't tell me my son is messing around with Tweener, of all people." He looked horrified. Michael sat up and leant against the headboard, watching his brother pace back and forth angrily.
"Well, from what I caught them doing in the hallway when they thought no one was looking, it appears so." He said, grinning to himself. "Let's face it, we're a pretty fucked up family. A family of queer, weird, violent, crazy, convicts."
"You got tha' right, Pretty!" T-Bag shouted, him and Abruzzi laughing.
"Shut up!" Lincoln roared back, then turned once again to the bed. "I'm too tired to deal with this shit. Time for Linc the Sink to go sleepies." Crawling under the covers, he gripped his pillow roughly and fell asleep imagining that it was T-Bag or Tweener he was squeezing the neck of.