Title: Children
Character/Pairing: T-Bag
Prompt: #027. Children
Rating: PG
Summary: After a few moments of consideration, T-Bag shrugged. "I wouldn't know, Pretty," he paused, then added with a shrewd grin, "but maybe there's a little Teddy runnin' 'round down in 'bama, hm?"
Author's Notes: It took me three tries but I finally wrote this in a way that satisfies me. Betaed by the lovely AlmostForgiven. -Also posted on Prison Break Fic and Prison Break 100-
Disclaimer: Not mine -- just taking them out for a little spin.
"Been wonderin'," T-Bag began, leaning against the wall of the C.O. break room.
Michael, climbing from the waist-deep hole in the middle of the room, decided to humor the rapist. He nodded to Sucre who dropped into the hole, before questioning, "What've you been wondering, T-Bag?"
"'Bout y'all's kids." T-Bag accompanied the answer with a mischievous grin but was met with contemptuous glares from the fathers in the room.
"I think kids are the last thing we're going to discuss with you, Pervert," Abruzzi intoned.
Licking his chapped lips, T-Bag waved off Abruzzi's words. "I know you got a little boy and girl on the outside, Johnny-boy. All smooth-skinned and untouched." He smiled wickedly and mockingly at the Mob boss. "Think maybe I can get to them before them Mafia chickens you got all up in a tizzy do?"
Abruzzi, clearly not amused, reached for a nearby hammer before his hand stayed at Michael's insistent glare that wordlessly said, "Ignore him."
T-Bag continued down the line, Westmoreland his next victim. "Hear you's got a daughter, D.B." The pervert nodded clinically and added, "Don't usually go after older women—least not too old, anyway—but I could . . . make an exception."
"T-Bag—"
"Shh, Pretty, I ain't done yet." T-Bag turned to Sucre, busy breaking up concrete in the bottom of the hole. "And I hear you've got a little bundle of joy on the way, hm?"
Sucre craned his head to glower at T-Bag. "It's nothing of your business, pendejo."
"Maybe I'm makin' it my business."
Lincoln took two steps and closed the relatively short gap between himself and T-Bag. With a rough thud, Linc slammed T-Bag against the wall, sending little bits of drywall fluttering into his hair.
"We are not discussing this any further," Linc growled, his fists clenching the blue material of T-Bag's jumpsuit, lifting the pervert farther up the wall.
"But Sink," T-Bag lilted, "I didn't even get to the best part." He pursed his lips, waiting for a reaction from Lincoln.
Creasing his brow in an unappreciative frown, Lincoln mulled over T-Bag's words before rage abolished any rational thought he may have had and his hands were wrapped around T-Bag's throat.
"Don't you dare bring him into this!" Lincoln squeezed T-Bag's trachea harder when he licked his lips salaciously and grinned wider.
"He's such a pretty boy, Sink," T-Bag nearly wheezed out as his breathing decreased. "Wouldn't mind gettin' my hands on—" Grasping at Lincoln's arms and hands wildly as his entire air supply was cut off, T-Bag gasped for breath.
"Lincoln." It was Michael, finally intervening. "Let him down," he said in what would normally be a commanding tone but seemed more a request in the presence of his older brother.
Lincoln released his grip, reluctantly, and stepped away, allowing T-Bag to slide to the floor, massaging his tender throat.
Regaining his breath, T-Bag, spiteful and knowing that Michael wouldn't allow another such transgression to occur, tilted his head up, his eyes closed, and casually said, "Much as I enjoyed that, Sink, think your boy would enjoy it more." He waited for a response and when he didn't receive one, he opened his eyes and looked around.
Lincoln had switched to lookout and in his place, C-Note was now sanding the wall to T-Bag's right. T-Bag scratched the bottom of his chin thoughtfully.
"Do you have any children, T-Bag?" Michael's question, curiosity at its best, brought a small frown to the rapist's visage.
After a few moments of consideration, T-Bag shrugged. "I wouldn't know, Pretty," he paused, then added with a shrewd grin, "but maybe there's a little Teddy runnin' 'round down in 'bama, hm?"