Characters: Michael, Lincoln (Gen, Humor)
Summary (Pre-Series): Michael and Lincoln kill time during a power outage. Someone wins.
Author's Notes: An Australian Flood Auction fic for krazykipper.
Also for prisonbreak100 ("Storm").
It was a late Sunday afternoon in May, at the end of a pretty good weekend. Michael's homework was done, Lincoln was off until Monday, and neither of them had planned to go outside. The storm that suddenly began raging across the city didn't really affect them.
At least, not until the power went out.
"Hey!" Lincoln said. 'I was watching the game!"
"The Bulls are in Philadelphia," Michael pointed out. "They're fine."
"I know, but it's getting near the playoffs. I wanted to see it." Lincoln took a swallow of beer, and scowled at the TV.
"This could go on for awhile," Michael sighed.
"Could? It usually does."
"Well, do you want to stare at the dead TV, or play a game? There's still some light in the kitchen, and we've got candles."
"Sure, why not." Lincoln got up to follow him into the next room, noticing that at thirteen, Michael was only a couple of inches shorter now. Somehow, he'd never really expected that to happen.
They sat down at the kitchen table. "So, what did you have in mind?" Lincoln asked.
"We could try chess," Michael said hopefully.
"I'm not really a chess kind of guy, Michael. You've seen—we've tried before."'
"Maybe you've gotten better since then."
Lincoln snorted. "I doubt it."
"What about Scrabble?"
"Oh, c'mon—which one of us has been reading the dictionary since he was eight? And talks like an encyclopedia? Do we even have Scrabble?"
Michael thought. "We used to."
"Yeah, but that was before…"
Before Mom died. Before foster care, when the world stopped spinning.
"I like poker," Lincoln said.
"Well, no kidding. Didn't you lose half your paycheck in a poker game last month?"
"I was drunk," Lincoln protested.
"It'd be good for you to learn," Lincoln said. "Everyone should know how to play poker. Learning how to bluff is a survival skill."
"You mean, lying," Michael said.
"Strategic lying," Lincoln said, shuffling the cards with practiced hands.
"The kids in the chess club aren't going to like this."
"My God, we have definitely got to teach you poker."
The lights flickered, and then came on full-force.
"Power's back," Michael announced. He was out of his chair and bouncing off toward his room in the blink of an eye, strangely eager to leave.
"Hey, get back here!" Lincoln called. "Michael!"
His brother's voice floated back toward the kitchen. "Game's on again…"
Oh, yeah, Lincoln thought. He headed straight for the living room, leaving the cards lying neglected behind him.
His unplanned lesson would have to wait for another day.
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