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Linc’s always been a physical guy. It’s the way he’s hardwired, and it’s gotten him in trouble more than enough, fights at school, irritating Michael with too much affection when they were kids, bar brawls and ill-advised hook-ups, all.
He’s struggling to think of a worse time than right now though.
He hadn’t intended to follow Mahone when he came back from wherever he dumped Wyatt’s body, but something had caught his attention when the other man slipped back in through the warehouse side door like a shadow, more so than dwelling on what happened in the water pipe that afternoon. So he’d left the desk and wandered down into one of the storage rooms at the back of the warehouse, looking for Mahone.
Last time he’d found him here, tucked away into the corner and utterly broken, he hadn’t really known what to do. They’d ended on a strange handshake, which had clearly been enough to show his support for Mahone’s grief-fuelled cause, but had made Linc feel the way he’d always felt when Michael had fallen over as a kid, scraped knees and crying but not wanting Linc’s bear hugs to feel better. Over the years, he’d figured out how to show affection to his cagey little brother, always more a mind than a body, but Linc never felt satisfied with it.
He’s sure Mahone’s built in a similar image, he and Michael are scarily alike in some ways, but Linc trusts his body and its instincts, even when he maybe shouldn’t, so when he finds Mahone near-hyperventilating in the middle of the storage room, he does what he does best and pulls him into a wordless embrace.
As expected, Mahone stiffens and Linc’s giving it a second before he pulls away when all of a sudden Mahone slumps, giving his weight over to Linc as his head tucks in and presses into Linc’s chest with one, heaving sob. And this, Linc knows what to do with.
“It’s okay, man,” Linc says, voice soothing the way he would talk to LJ when he was a baby, so small in his arms. “It’s done. It’s over.”
“And he’s-“ Alex grits out, like each word costs him something. “He’s still- Cam-“
“I know,” Linc says before Mahone can say the awful words himself. The two of them are the only fathers in this place, the only two who could possibly understand and even Linc doesn’t know, can only imagine the hollow grief in Mahone’s chest. He supposes that’s why he rests his chin on Mahone’s head, hides him away from the world that has only a dead son in it for him, as if he can shield the both of them from that reality. “I know. But you got him. You did it. Your boy can rest easy now.”
He’s still half-expecting Mahone to push him away but then a fist balls up in Linc’s shirt and he knows he’s not going anywhere anytime soon as Alex starts to cry in earnest.
Linc plants his feet and gets comfortable waiting.
After a few minutes with no sign of Alex surfacing, he manoeuvres them over towards the wall, out of view of the room’s entrance that’s really more of a cage than a door, and drags them down to the floor. Mahone goes like a ragdoll, letting Linc move him around seemingly without even being aware of the movement. Linc finds himself running a large hand up and down the curve of Alex’s spine for lack of anything else to do, and feels his breath start to even out of the huge, racking sobs into something quieter, deeper.
Relief, maybe. Linc hopes. If you’d asked him, hell, even a week ago if he had hopes for Agent Mahone’s ongoing peace, he’d’ve laughed and asked if there was any way he could help ruin the guy’s life more. Now he knows he didn’t ever stand a chance of ruining Alex’s life, and he’s glad he didn’t try.
The thing is, Linc’s body thinks it knows what to do when it’s holding a warm, somewhat vulnerable body this close. And his jeans aren’t tight enough to disguise the movement when his dick decides to join the party.
“Sorry,” he says tightly. “Ignore that.”
He’s not expecting a wet laugh to come from the bundle of Mahone in his arms. It’s the first sound that’s not been stifled sobs in about a half hour so Linc’s not gonna push it. “What is it that’s doing it for you?” Mahone asks, eyes red with grief and dead with pain, but there are small lines of amusement around them so maybe Linc’s not about to get punched for the world’s most inappropriate boner. “Is it all the crying or did you just discover a thing for car batteries?”
Mahone’s making light of it but there had been something about watching him work on Wyatt, kind of a caveman thrill of watching something so other to Linc, something so raw and real. It’s not like it turned him on exactly, Linc’s pretty vanilla when it comes to sex, likes to keep things simple, but seeing Alex’s body turned so fully and focused to one incredibly intimate thing was definitely something.
“Oh, the crying, definitely,” he says instead, which earns him another surprised laugh. “I like to know I’m giving a girl the worst time of her life, really gets me going.”
“I doubt that’s true,” Mahone says, voice assessing, and Linc’s already primed, however inappropriately, body immediately picks up on the suggestive note in that. He’s not sure if Alex knows he’s doing it, it’s hardly the best situation for a little light flirtation, but either way it’s having an effect that he’s not sure Mahone’s prepared for.
“Don’t push it,” Linc warns, aiming for lightness. “That kind of talk, I usually expect a girl to put out after.”
“It might not be the worst idea, actually,” Mahone muses, and Linc frowns, confused, certain he can’t mean what Linc thinks he means, until he clarifies, “Sex always takes me out of my head.”
A series of images assault Linc like he’s taking gunfire. Mahone with all the lightning quick thinking wiped off of his face, those chill blue eyes dazed. Mahone and all of his interesting angles pressed into a mattress. His hair, shorter these days but still flyaway and light, caught in a large fist.
It’s not like Linc’s not been with men before. He was big enough and scary enough not to be anyone’s bitch in Fox River and he wasn’t looking for that kind of thing himself, but a guy still has needs even on death row. There were plenty of options for Linc the Sink to get off when he needed to.
But that was prison. He always thought that, once he was out again, he’d go back to women fully, simple and uncomplicated. Fucking Sofia had felt good and it had been easy to fall into her bed right up until he’d been arrested. He’s not really thought about her since they came to LA except to hope she’s checking in on LJ and making sure he eats more than microwave burritos and soda, but in the back of his head he has thought he would head back to Panama after this was all over and pick up with her again.
His dick, apparently, has other ideas.
There’s no wariness on Mahone’s face in the silence following his statement. He must figure that a guy who’s comfortable sitting with a hard on with another guy half in his lap must not be the type to start swinging if someone were to suggest doing something about that situation. Linc knows he looks like your average thug and operates best when he’s underestimated, but he’s absently glad that Alex hasn’t made the same assumptions. Granted, he’s practically sitting on the evidence that Linc’s interested, but Linc’s met plenty of interested men who’d still prefer to cave your head in than admit to being any kind of queer.
Still, he hasn’t said anything further, either letting Linc mull the idea over or else edging towards dropping back into a pit of despair, and Linc knows which one he’d prefer right now.
“Oh yeah?” He asks, voice low and eyebrow raised. “What’s that like?”
The tips of Mahone’s ears go pink but to his credit he doesn’t back down. Good. Link’s played brute before, it’s not what he wants right now. Instead Alex’s eyes meet Linc’s with a snap that cinches something somewhere in Linc’s gut, darting down to Linc’s mouth for the barest second before snapping back again. He swallows and they’re so close that Linc can hear the click of his throat, the sudden hurriedness of his breath.
“Well, uh,” Mahone’s eyelashes are very pale, long and flickering as he blinks rapidly. “Not as good as heroin,” he laughs a little weakly, too much truth in there. “But, uh, pretty damn close, depending on the… on the partner.”
Linc brushes his nose along the sharp line of Alex’s. “I’ll take that bet,” he says, and kisses him.
Mahone wasn’t kidding. He melts under Linc, a full body shudder shaking through his body and leaving him boneless as Linc plunders his mouth. It catches Linc by surprise, an unspooling of tension in Mahone’s body that he didn’t think the guy was capable of. Mahone is all jerky movements and frenetic bursts of energy inbetween the kind of stillness that never looks restful, only waiting, but now he’s a puddle in Linc’s arms. The only part of him still moving is his mouth, hot and hungry, desperate for pleasure like any addict is, so Linc reaches up to cup the back of Alex’s skull, threading his fingers through the hair there, softer than he was expecting, and holds him fast. Alex’s breath stutters, his mouth falling lax, giving Linc total control.
And Lincoln uses it. He gets his free arm around Alex’s waist - there’s barely anything to the man anymore compared to the last time Linc had his hands on him in that docking warehouse in Panama - and tugs him up and into his lap. This has the double effect of resting the slight curve of Mahone’s ass against where Linc’s still hard in his jeans and of Mahone’s bright blue eyes flickering open in surprise as he takes in the new position. There’s already a slight glassy look to them that strokes Linc’s ego enormously.
Linc raises an eyebrow, opens his mouth, and then Alex is there, following the cue as easily as he followed them across the damn country.
It’s been a long time since Linc made out with someone on the floor like a couple teenagers, and he knows his back and Alex’s knees won’t thank them for it later, but it’s hard to care with his tongue sliding against Alex’s, the slight scrape of teeth on his bottom lip, Alex’s weight on his thighs as he stops thinking about holding himself up and just lets Lincoln take him. Mahone is so warm against him, nearly feverishly so, and on some level that surprises Linc, too. He supposes if he had had to imagine it, he would have imagined Alex’s hands to be cold, the rest of his bodily functions given up to power the brilliant mind he has. Absently, Linc wonders if he always runs this hot, if Linc pushed their bunks together and wrapped his body around Mahone’s in the night he’d be rewarded with a furnace in his arms, or if this is just how Alex’s body reacts to pleasure.
Mahone’s spidery fingers, previously trapped and useless between them, now start scrabbling at the hem of Linc’s t-shirt and Linc doesn’t see any reason to deny him so pulls back to let Alex tug the thing off him, but he doesn’t reciprocate. Instead he slides his hands up under the body-warm fabric of Alex’s long-sleeved t-shirt and feels his way up the indents of ribs, the lean muscle just below the surface, the thick lines of what Linc suddenly knows are old scars on his back.
Alex goes still against him except for the way his body shivers in response to Linc’s hands. Linc kisses him, once, twice, to draw his attention back to the task at hand - he’s not here to ask about Alex’s scars, the past doesn’t interest him half as much as the right here right now - and then runs both his hands up Alex’s torso so he can thumb at each hard nipple. The effect is, by now, expected; the shudder of Alex’s body, the slackening of his mouth, the clutch of his hands at the meat of Linc’s shoulders.
The sound is not. Alex moans like a bitch in heat and Linc feels himself go dizzy with the sudden rush of blood to his dick. He keeps one hand under Alex’s shirt, a steady, relentless rub, while he uses the other to pull Alex back in for a bruising kiss, as if he can swallow the sound down.
Linc definitely needs something more than the dull grind of Alex’s ass against his still-clothed dick, and he reaches to undo the snap on his jeans. Alex must realise what he’s doing because then his hands are there, batting Lincoln’s out of the way as he tugs each button out of the hole. Linc’s happy enough to have the task taken from him and turns his attention to Alex’s belt instead, clocking immediately the extra hole that’s been punched into the leather.
After this, he’ll take Alex out for a burger or something. Maybe he’ll be more willing to run on something other than coffee and grief when he’s had a good orgasm. Linc’ll be hungry himself - he always is after sex - so even if Alex scarpers in the aftermath, not totally unlikely, he’ll pick him something up.
(Linc remembers years of making PB&J sandwiches, cut into squares, to leave at Michael’s elbow while he studied in the hopes that he would absently pick at the food while he worked. The kitchen here isn’t exactly sophisticated but he’s sure he could manage something similar here, small satellites of food trying to trick the two geniuses into their five a day)
He’s distracted from this idle train of thought by finally getting his hand into Mahone’s underwear, finding him hard, leaking, and surprisingly uncircumcised. Linc holds him lightly, fingers a teasing ring around the width of him, so as not to pull Alex’s focus from his own task, groaning quietly as Alex wraps those long fingers around his dick and pulls him free of his jeans.
Alex, however, appears to have distracted himself.
“I see you’re, uh, everywhere in proportion,” he says, the pink of his tongue slipping out over his lips as he stares at Linc's crotch.
Linc snorts. “Is that college-talk for ‘nice dick’?”
Alex’s eyes lift to his. “Nice dick, Lincoln,” he says spikily, the consonants hitting hard and sharp in his mouth. Linc laughs, delighted.
“Thanks. You can sit on it next time.” That does make Alex flush, red up his neck and creeping into his cheeks. He’s really, Lincoln is discovering the more attention he pays to Alex, terrible at hiding his reactions. His heart is so entirely on his sleeve Linc doesn’t know how the Company ever thought using this guy was a smart idea.
“Next time,” Alex repeats, another thing Linc’s noticed he does when his brain’s working frantically in the background, his mouth taking over to stopper the gap in the only way it knows how. Linc’s not sure if he’s questioning the idea of a next time in general or put out at the idea of Linc not fucking him bare on the middle of the warehouse storage room floor right now - not that Linc’s not tempted by the idea but he imagines that uptight Mahone is going to need a little more work to take him than they can afford right now - but either way he doesn't really want Alex to be thinking that hard right now, so takes decisive action and fists at Alex’s cock.
It has the desired effect of wiping all thought from Alex’s face, body bowing around the sensation of Linc jacking him slow and studied. “Next time,” Linc confirms anyway, not seeing any reason to be obtuse about this. Something’s clearly working here; Alex is already calmer, possibly even enjoying himself if he’s capable of such a thing, and Linc’s getting his dick wet with a willing body who’s actually doing quite a lot more for him than he expected. Why wouldn’t they do this again?
Alex’s eyes are clenched closed, maybe ignoring him but most likely just lost to the rhythm of Linc’s hand. His teeth have the thin bottom lip of his pointy little mouth - puffy and spit-slick now thanks to Linc’s attentions - caught between them, and Linc gets nicely distracted for a moment imagining other uses for Alex’s mouth, if it’s just as warm as Alex himself is, warmer even, then can’t hold himself back any longer. He readjusts his grip, lines himself up, and pushes his cock alongside Alex’s into the tightness of his own fist.
“God,” Alex groans as if Linc’s fucked him open, and Linc licks the sound out of his mouth.
Linc loses himself for a while in the pull of his hand, the length of Mahone against him, the wetness that starts to coat his hand as he swipes a thumb over their heads. It’s been a long time since he took his time with a man, definitely since long before prison, and as it turns out Alex is worth the effort, both sensitive and responsive, hips jerking with the twist of Linc’s hand, blunt fingernails digging into the meat of Linc’s shoulders, mouth gasping as they both grind into Linc’s grip.
They’re tucked away in the corner, partially hidden behind the large boxes and wire shelving units where Linc set them down to try and give Alex his moment, and while the store room is secluded enough at the far back of the warehouse, it’s not exactly private. Linc should be speeding this up, making this into a quick and dirty fuck in the back rooms for them both to get off and get out of here, but he can’t seem to bring himself to, too busy enjoying the weight of Alex on his lap, the rocking of their bodies, the small noises of needy frustration spilling from Mahone’s mouth as Linc drives them slowly towards an edge.
It’s not like he’d imagined it before - hell, the closest he’d imagined to this was his hands around Mahone’s throat - but Linc never would have expected Alex to be this vocal with his pleasure. He’s not loud, most likely still aware that sound carries in a place like this and god doesn’t that make Linc want to rent out a motel room and see just what kind of sounds he can make Alex forget himself enough to make, but every hitch of Linc’s hips, the glide of his hand, the scrape of his teeth under Alex’s jaw, earns him some small sound that Linc’s collecting like pennies.
So Linc notices it when they stop, cutting off in Alex’s throat like he’s choking on them. Before he can register it fully, Mahone’s hands come off of his shoulders and hold onto the wall behind him instead, leaving Linc cold. His head suddenly tilts out of Linc’s reach, his hips starting to drive hard and fast, and when Linc pulls back to look at him, he can see those blue eyes open and unseeing.
Sex always takes me out of my head, Alex had said, but Lincoln doesn’t think he meant this.
Alex just moments ago had been like putty in Linc’s hands. He’d been close, Linc had read the signs in the tightening of his abdomen under his hand, the squeezing of his slim thighs around Linc’s. Now Alex is stiff and removed, body moving without any mind left beneath it.
Linc doesn’t know what corner of Alex’s head has triggered off a panic-response like this, but he hates it. The sudden emptiness, the complete lack of Alex in his arms. Linc’s never been the kind of guy who can just screw for screwing’s sake, even when it had been girls in the alleys behind bars he’d always chatted them up first. He doesn’t do anonymous, he needs a connection and up until a few moments ago he had it with Alex. He just needs to get it back.
“Hey, hey,” Linc murmurs, voice low and deep. “Slow down a little, yeah?” And takes his hand off of them both - this at least earning a gutted groan from Alex - to cup Alex’s jaw, pull him back in for a slow, deep kiss.
Alex’s breath is coming hot and fast, his teeth getting in the way of the pace Lincoln’s setting, but Linc holds firm and steadily brings Alex back in line until a little of that frenetic, punishing energy slips back out of his body. He feels Alex gasp, whole body shuddering, and Linc thumbs at his cheekbones in a wide arc before pulling back.
“Look at me.”
Alex blinks his eyes open jerkily at the quiet order but they find Linc’s and lock on like a homing device. Whatever shadow was behind the chilly blue is gone again, leaving only Alex looking back at him, and Linc nods approvingly. “Good,” he says, keeping their gazes locked as he takes one of Alex’s hands in his and wraps their intertwined fingers around both of their lengths. “Just like that.”
He doesn’t ask if Alex is alright. Something set him off and they’re gonna need to talk about it at some point so it doesn’t happen again, but Linc’s not crossing that bridge right now. So instead Linc just wraps his other arm around Alex’s waist, drawing him close as they move together again and opening his mouth in invitation.
Alex, probably thankful for the break in eye contact, kisses him, then darts a furtive look down between them, his pink tongue wetting his lips. Linc looks too, feeling every skim of Alex’s long, thin fingers between his own thicker set glide up the length of his dick.
Linc’s knuckles are still bloody, he notices now, from the beating he gave Wyatt’s face this morning. He feels more than sees Alex realise the same thing. This time, when Alex kisses him, it’s trembling.
Okay, so maybe Linc’s not the best at taking someone out of their head. Maybe he’s too close to the whole situation to be a good distraction in the end. But maybe, he thinks, what Mahone actually needs is someone who will give him a solid ground to break against and build himself back up from. Someone who doesn’t mind helping to pick up the pieces.
A small crease starts to appear between Alex’s eyes, brow crumpling like he’s in pain or about to cry, and Linc chases it, taking over the languid strokes as Alex’s hand falls away to grasp at Linc’s arm.
“That’s it,” he says unthinkingly, as Alex’s mouth falls open, a small dark triangle of heat and the slightest glimpse of white teeth, his breath coming shallower and more hitched in time with the twist of Linc’s grip, the drag back of his palm. “Come on-”
Alex’s head drops back on a cut off “O-h-”, eyes narrowing to slits and the breath punching out of him as he comes quietly over Linc’s hand. If Linc had ever really given a fuck about being caught in the middle of this, he doesn’t now. He’d fuck Alex in the middle of the table before his brother and God if it meant he could watch this every day.
He turns to the task of his own orgasm with a lazy ease as Alex trembles and goes still against him. One arm still keeping Alex up as he works, he uses the mess of Alex’s come in his hand to slick himself up and twist his wrist fast and dirty, the way he likes it.
Alex makes a noise that sounds a lot like a choked-off whimper when Linc’s knuckles brush against where he’s still sensitive and that’s what tips Linc over the edge, release ripping through him like a wave. Blindly, he finds Alex’s mouth again and stifles his own groan there.
He feels Alex’s hand at his neck as he kisses him, no longer clutching and desperate but a sweet, soft touch as their mouths slow and break away.
There’s a pause where Linc can feel Mahone’s mind starting to kick back in and he cuts that shit off immediately, biting playfully at Alex’s bottom lip before leaning back against the wall to grin at him. He keeps his hand firm on Alex’s waist, wide fingers spread across the small of his back, not holding him in place but letting it be clear that Linc isn’t going anywhere right now. Sue him, he’s a physical guy. He gets touchy in the afterglow, cuddly even.
When Alex doesn’t seem likely to run off, doesn’t even protest, Linc wipes his other hand off on the front of Alex’s t-shirt so he can slip that under the material too.
“Nice,” Alex bitches, though there isn’t any heat in it.
“It was ruined anyway,” Linc says lazily. “Look, give it here.”
“What? No- Linc-” Alex nearly yelps as Linc runs his hands back up the inside of Alex’s shirt, dragging the hem up with them. “Lincoln, I really-“
“Trust me,” is all Linc says, already tugging the ruined shirt up and over Alex’s head, making sure to keep the come-splattered front away from Alex’s hair in case the man has an aneurysm or something.
He balls the material up in his hand and uses it as a rag to clean them both up, wiping his hand properly before he tosses it somewhere over Alex’s shoulder. He’ll grab it on his way out and shove it in the bag he lugs to the laundromat every couple days.
A better man would avert his eyes and allow Alex his dignity but Linc has never denied himself anything he wants and he looks his fill even as Alex squirms under the attention, struggling to glare at him. Linc likes what he sees, the rangy muscles diving into slim hips, the light scatter of fair chest hair. Even the scars, less prominent here than he felt on Mahone’s back, are appealing, proof of a hard life survived somehow.
There’s the gunshot wound - not the only one on his body, Linc notices - that Linc remembers digging his fingers into, the scarring deep and horrible as a result of that and of Alex recovering from it in the middle of Sona. Linc doesn’t regret much, there’s no point if when it comes down to it he wouldn’t do anything differently, but he wishes it hadn’t been necessary.
Then, before Alex decides to hit him, Linc stops leering and grabs his own discarded shirt from the floor. Alex disappears into it gratefully while Linc rebuttons his jeans. He waits until Alex has sorted out his own zipper and belt, fumbled with some of the buttons on Linc’s shirt, and then he tugs him back in again.
Lincoln has never begrudged anyone what they need in the post-fuck afterglow; a cigarette, another slug of tequila, a kiss, a cry. He’s no longer surprised that what Alex does, what lonely, touch-starved Alex does, is sink back against Linc’s chest with the hesitant, jerky movements of someone expecting to be rejected until Linc pulls him in the rest of the way.
Alex burrows into the crook of Linc’s neck, not looking at him as he does so. “Just- just a minute,” he mutters against Linc’s skin, getting squirrely again. “Then I’ll-“
“I got nowhere to be,” Linc says. What he usually does after sex is sleep, which isn’t exactly possible on the floor of the storage room, but his muscles are relaxed and slightly boneless himself. He’s happy to slump here with Alex against him as long as needed.
In fact all it does is serve to set Linc’s resolve that one of the the first things he’s doing after this is shoving his and Alex’s bunks together at the end of the row and setting up a Fox River Privacy Screen Special. Sucre will know to leave well enough alone at least and it’s not like Roland’s here anymore to make some stupid fucking comment about it. It’s nice, just being close to another person. In the madness of the lives they’re living here, in the terrifying chase for Scylla, for freedom, Linc likes the idea of having someone in the bed beside him when he lays his head down to rest.
He likes the idea of that someone being Alex.
He’s only gotten a peek under the surface of Alexander Mahone, but the more he finds the more he likes. Alex is serious and a little scarier than Linc would admit to anyone else out loud, but he’s also quietly funny, bitchy little comments that make Linc smirk when he catches them. He’s the first one of them up in the morning and the last one to stay at the table after everyone else, even Michael, drawn away by Sara, has crawled off to bed. He doesn’t complain when Linc flicks through the radio channels in the car, takes his coffee with a tooth-rotting amount of sugar, and has the uncanny ability to both drive Michael up the wall and match him step for step, being there to catch the insane leaps of logic Michael throws out like nothing, neither of which are exactly common traits. Linc can’t think of any of his previous girlfriends that Michael would’ve broken out of jail. Twice.
He wonders if Alex knows what it means that Michael couldn’t leave him to rot in that jail, even given permission. He wonders if Michael knows.
Linc doesn’t think much about the future. He gives it about as much consideration as the past. But Michael’s opinion will always matter to him. He could be with someone Michael didn’t have an opinion of - he has been mostly. He’s never been with someone who interests Michael and part of him is curious to see what that would look like.
It hadn’t exactly been an issue with Sofia because, after the panic and violence of Panama, Linc had needed to see the goodness and light in the place he’d been dreaming of all those months in Fox River, but the reality of their lives never really touched her the same way. She had briefly stepped into their world but had been able to step back to like it had all been a nightmare she’d woken up from. Alex lives the nightmare every day, same as Linc, and there’s something to be said for someone who understands that completely and who can face it beside him without flinching.
That’s more than enough for Linc to work with.
He’s pulled out of his drifting thoughts by a completely unexpected sound, a soft grumble he can feel the vibrations of where he and Alex are pressed so close.
“Hungry?” Linc asks needlessly, not bothering to hide his grin.
Alex looks a little surprised. “Starving, actually. I… I can’t even remember the last time I felt hungry,” he admits, frowning a little as he tries to recall the feeling. “I don’t usually think about that kind of thing until I have to.”
“Well, think about it,” Linc says. “What’re you hungry for?”
Alex thinks for a moment, longer than Linc expected, then finally, though it comes out as more of a question, “Thai?”
Linc shrugs. He’s not fussy and Thai’s a good takeout to grab for everybody else afterwards. “Sounds good. Just let me grab a new shirt and then I’ll take you out for Thai food.”
He says it deliberately, with intention, and sees Alex clock the word choice immediately, the way Linc knew he would. Linc usually would do this the other way around, take a girl out for a meal, couple of drinks, compliment her and make her laugh enough that she’s perfectly happy for him to start feeling her up under the table before they call for the check, but he thinks it’s pretty clear what he’s asking Alex here.
There’s a pause before Alex jerks a shaky nod.
“Great,” Linc says breezily, slapping lightly at the side of Alex’s thigh to indicate movement. Alex blinks at him but starts shifting off of Linc’s lap “Let me go get another shirt and I’ll meet you outside. You can keep that one.”
This, at least, isn’t a surprise. Linc’s always liked the look of his partners in his clothes, usually with a little less on the bottom half but they can work on that.
Alex arches an eyebrow. “Right, that won’t look suspicious.”
“I ain’t worried about hiding it,” Linc shrugs and earns himself a surprised, assessing look. It’s true. Who the fuck’s opinion does he care about here apart from Michael’s and it’s hardly like he’d care or possibly even notice. Is Linc gonna hide from Self of all people?
“I’ve always preferred,” Alex starts, movements getting jittery again until Linc lays a hand on the nape of his neck and he sags. “Discretion,” he finishes, looking up at Linc from under those pale lashes. Crazy, Linc thinks, how before that look used to cut through him like razor wire.
“I’m not planning on playing grab-ass in the kitchen,” Linc assures him which, he might, but only so long as the warehouse is empty so figures that doesn’t really count. “But I don’t do things quietly.”
Alex snorts a quiet laugh, the small pointed corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Oh, I’m aware.” He shifts a little. “So, what? You wanna hold my hand, walk down the pier?”
“Maybe,” Linc says, calmly, stopping Alex in his twitchy little tracks. “We’ll see how it goes.”
“Lincoln, I just dropped a man into that drink with a cement block chained to his hands. And he was breathing when I did it.”
So that’s what he did with Wyatt. “Good. Guy deserved it.”
“Linc-
“What? You wanna trade who did what worse? That feel productive to you?” Linc watched a man refuse to climb out of certain death today because of that kinda thinking. That ain’t gonna be him. And he’s not about to let it be Alex, either.
Alex scoffs a little, the sound nasty and cruel and directed entirely at himself. “I don’t think it’d be much of a competition.”
“No? If it weren’t for me none of this ever woulda happened,” Linc says, a little louder than he meant it to come out. Alex blinks but waits for him to continue. “If I’d never been in that parking garage to get set up for murder like some idiot…” He pauses, taking a breath and getting himself in control. “If I thought about that too much I’d never get anything done. We’ve got a life to live, Alex. I mean it,” he says, louder, when Alex starts to argue. “We all do. All of us that are left.”
There’s a long, pregnant pause, both of them thinking of the people who aren't on that list.
“What kind of life do I have now?” Alex asks into the quiet after a moment. Linc’s shirt looks ridiculously big on him even after he’s tried to button it as far as it would go - Linc’s thankful for all the buttons he ripped off that mean that Alex’s collarbone is on full display. He could do some serious damage to the pale skin there, he’s sure, given time and opportunity to tease. Maybe a movie in a motel somewhere, something brainless they can ignore the second half of easily.
“You can start,” Linc says, getting to his feet and holding a hand out to Alex. “By coming and getting Thai food with me.”
Alex looks up at him with those startlingly blue eyes and Linc doesn’t think he’s fooling himself when he thinks he sees some life in them again. Small, maybe, but there.
Alex takes his hand.