Sara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scripted_sra) wrote2011-11-12 04:30 am
scripted_sra) wrote2011-11-12 04:30 am
Burn Notice | Easy | PG-13 | Larry/Michael; Michael/Fi; Michael/Sam; Sam/Michael/Fi
Title: Easy
Fandom: Burn Notice
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: past Larry/Michael; Michael/Fi; Michael/Sam; Sam/Michael/Fi
Summary: An AU for 3x13, "Enemies Closer"--Larry drove a wedge between Michael and Fiona, but Sam was already cooking due to the Gilroy job. What might Larry have tried on him if that hadn't been the case? What might have happened?
Word Count: 1,500
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. This work is not created for profit and constitutes fair use.
A/N: Thanks for the beta, Kelly!
This would be so easy.
As far as Larry could tell, Michael was only fucking Fiona. Hell if he knew why—Michael had always been obvious about wanting Sam, though for what reason he couldn’t say, because Michael had never really liked the Boy Scout type, just in general. He smirked at that thought. He had personal experience there.
Somehow it was even more obvious that Sam had one hell of a thing for Michael.
This would be so fucking easy.
“What’s up, Sam?” he asked, radiating the kind of false friendliness that always put Sam’s teeth on edge. “Help any little old ladies cross the street today?”
“No, Larry,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Kicked any orphans for sport?”
“Slow day for both of us, I guess,” Larry said, flashing him a thousand-watt grin. Sam only tensed further. He flagged down the bartender and asked for a cortadito as he sat on a stool.
Sam gave him a baleful look. “What do you want?” he demanded.
“Just a Cuban espresso,” Larry said, smirking. “You know, I hate to say it, but this jealous boyfriend shtick is kind of old hat, Sam.”
Sam gave him a look that suggested he thought he was crazy. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you,” Larry said, rolling his eyes as he threw back his espresso. “The past is the past. Michael and I are over. We both know that.”
Sam stared at him. “Are you saying you and Mike were…”
He couldn’t even say it. Goddamn this was too easy. Larry arched an eyebrow at him. “Are you saying you aren’t?” he asked. Sam’s expression said it all. “Huh. That’s new. He always liked older men.”
The fist flying at his face came out of nowhere, and Larry had to grudgingly admit Sam could still punch pretty fucking hard. And yet, as Sam tore out of the Carlito, Larry couldn’t help but smirk. Right on cue.
Too fucking easy.
*
“Sam, what the hell—” Michael started, when Sam barged into his loft, looking furious.
“You and Larry, Mike?” he demanded. “You let that soulless creep into your bed?”
All the color drained from Michael’s face. “How did you—”
“How do you think?” Sam interrupted. “He told me.”
“He told you—”
“Of course he told me, Mike. He wanted to piss me off. Guess what? It worked.” He glared. “If you need help on your little meeting with Carlos, call Fiona.”
“Sam, wait—”
Too late. Sam had already stormed out.
*
Michael couldn’t help but be thankful for his brother.
Larry’s trap had almost worked. Why was it still so easy for Larry to manipulate him? He hated that about himself, the way he’d let him climb into his head and, in Fi’s words, build a little nest.
At least now he’d be out of their hair for awhile.
Still, not everything was back to normal. He’d apologized, but things between him and Sam were still awkward. He didn’t know how to fix that.
“Michael?” called Fi’s voice suddenly.
He glanced up to see her walking into his loft. “Yeah, Fi?”
“We should talk,” she said. “Sam told me what Larry told him.”
Michael winced. “Great.”
Fi rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t surprised.”
“You weren’t?” Michael gave her a curious look.
“With the way he acts around you, and especially with the way he talked to me? Of course not,” she said, then paused. “‘Sometimes you’re exactly what he needs, and sometimes he pushes you away,’” she continued, obviously quoting something Larry had said. Looking thoughtful, she added, “He’s a snake, but he wasn’t wrong about that.”
“Fi,” Michael started, but Fi shook her head.
“No, Michael,” she said. “That, plus what Sam told me—it made me realize something. Sometimes you need someone like me,” she said, “and sometimes you need something else.” She smiled knowingly. “Someone like Sam.”
“What—”
“Don’t interrupt. I’m not done.” She smirked just a little. “You want us both, don’t you? But you think you have to choose. That’s very noble of you, Michael, very self-sacrificing. Very you.”
“Fi, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I understand.” She met his eyes. “You need Sam just as much as you need me.” At his look, she snorted. “You’re not misunderstanding me. You’re just pretending you are. Call Sam, Michael. Talk to him.”
With that, she kissed him, and then left.
*
“Sam, we need to talk.”
“You apologized, Mike. What else is there to talk about?”
“How about how you’re still barely looking at me?”
Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Larry.”
“Yeah,” Michael said. “Larry.”
“What kind of person sleeps with Larry?” he demanded.
“I did.”
“Yeah, obviously. What I don’t get is why? How much different were you, Mike? How much more like him?”
“A lot more,” he said. “I told you. That part of me gets smaller—”
“But Larry, Mike?”
“What do you want me to say, Sam?” Michael demanded. “I was young and angry and Larry was there and he was a hell of a lot more supportive than my father had ever been. He saw right through me and he got exactly what he wanted. And yeah, part of me knew that, but he was like a drug, and when we were together, what was right almost never won out over what felt good, and it felt fucking good. Is that what you want to hear?”
Sam’s jaw tightened. “I hate that bastard,” he said. “I’m glad I decked him.”
“You did?”
“When he told me.”
“Yeah?” Michael gave him a sidelong look. “Why?”
“Because he pissed me off.”
“By telling you about us,” Michael said. “Why did that piss you off?”
“Because Larry’s the kind of guy Satan would take a step back from and go, 'Whoa there, buddy, lighten up a little on being evil, huh?'”
Michael snorted. “Was that the only reason?”
“What are you getting at, Mike?”
“I’m saying there’s a reason he told you. He was trying to drive a wedge between us.” He paused. “Jealousy is a good way to do that.”
Sam stilled. “You think I’m jealous.”
“Are you?”
Sam met his eyes. They stared silently at each other for a long moment. “I hate the idea of him being within ten city blocks of you,” he said at last.
Michael moved first, closing the distance between them and kissing Sam hard. Sam deepened it, pushing him roughly back against his work bench. “I wanted you the first time we met,” he told him, once they broke apart. “Larry’s always known that.”
“Don’t say that name right now. Or ever again,” Sam said, and Michael laughed, which got cut off halfway through when Sam kissed him again, deep and claiming. He groaned into it, hands going to Sam’s back, and pressed closer. He groaned again, this time in disappointment, when Sam pulled away suddenly. “Wait,” he said, breathless. “Fiona.”
“Is okay with this,” Michael said. “She told me to go for it.”
“Good,” Sam said, relaxing. “I’d rather not be blown up.”
“I should tell her you were concerned.”
“Mikey, come on,” Sam groaned. “She’d never let that go.”
Michael grinned. “Then maybe you should keep me otherwise occupied.”
Sam smirked at him. “Yeah? Fine. I can do that.”
He tugged Michael toward the bed.
*
“Aw, look who kissed and made up,” Fi said softly, letting herself into the loft. Sam rolled his eyes, raising an eyebrow when Fi sat right down on the bed. She nudged Michael’s calf and he woke with a start, hand reaching under his pillow for his gun before his brain caught up to the reflex.
“Fi,” he half-yawned, giving her a look that was somewhere between wary and curious.
“Just dropped by to see how your talk went last night.” She smirked. “Very well, I see.”
“Yeah, you could say that,” Sam replied.
“Good.”
Sam’s eyebrow lifted again when she nudged Michael over, closer to him, and settled against Michael’s other side, hand absently rubbing his thigh. Fi only smiled at him.
Michael, for his part, was looking back and forth between them, as unsure as Sam had ever seen him. That was interesting, Sam thought, and when he saw Fi’s smile morph into a smirk, he caught on, smirking back.
“Yeah, it is,” he said.
“Excellent.” She grinned. “I can share if you can, Sam.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
Michael was still glancing back and forth at both of them. “Guys?”
“Don’t worry, Michael,” Fi said, smile too sweet to not also be a little wicked. “You’re ours now.”
Sam grinned as Michael’s expression turned wary. “Relax, Mikey,” he said. “I think you’re going to enjoy it.”
“Oh, he’ll definitely enjoy it,” Fi agreed, smirking.
“Guys,” Michael said again, raising an eyebrow.
“He doesn’t seem to be taking our word for it. Maybe it’ll be easier to show him?”
“That’s not a bad idea.”
They decided to show him together.
Easy.
Fandom: Burn Notice
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: past Larry/Michael; Michael/Fi; Michael/Sam; Sam/Michael/Fi
Summary: An AU for 3x13, "Enemies Closer"--Larry drove a wedge between Michael and Fiona, but Sam was already cooking due to the Gilroy job. What might Larry have tried on him if that hadn't been the case? What might have happened?
Word Count: 1,500
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. This work is not created for profit and constitutes fair use.
A/N: Thanks for the beta, Kelly!
This would be so easy.
As far as Larry could tell, Michael was only fucking Fiona. Hell if he knew why—Michael had always been obvious about wanting Sam, though for what reason he couldn’t say, because Michael had never really liked the Boy Scout type, just in general. He smirked at that thought. He had personal experience there.
Somehow it was even more obvious that Sam had one hell of a thing for Michael.
This would be so fucking easy.
“What’s up, Sam?” he asked, radiating the kind of false friendliness that always put Sam’s teeth on edge. “Help any little old ladies cross the street today?”
“No, Larry,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Kicked any orphans for sport?”
“Slow day for both of us, I guess,” Larry said, flashing him a thousand-watt grin. Sam only tensed further. He flagged down the bartender and asked for a cortadito as he sat on a stool.
Sam gave him a baleful look. “What do you want?” he demanded.
“Just a Cuban espresso,” Larry said, smirking. “You know, I hate to say it, but this jealous boyfriend shtick is kind of old hat, Sam.”
Sam gave him a look that suggested he thought he was crazy. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you,” Larry said, rolling his eyes as he threw back his espresso. “The past is the past. Michael and I are over. We both know that.”
Sam stared at him. “Are you saying you and Mike were…”
He couldn’t even say it. Goddamn this was too easy. Larry arched an eyebrow at him. “Are you saying you aren’t?” he asked. Sam’s expression said it all. “Huh. That’s new. He always liked older men.”
The fist flying at his face came out of nowhere, and Larry had to grudgingly admit Sam could still punch pretty fucking hard. And yet, as Sam tore out of the Carlito, Larry couldn’t help but smirk. Right on cue.
Too fucking easy.
“Sam, what the hell—” Michael started, when Sam barged into his loft, looking furious.
“You and Larry, Mike?” he demanded. “You let that soulless creep into your bed?”
All the color drained from Michael’s face. “How did you—”
“How do you think?” Sam interrupted. “He told me.”
“He told you—”
“Of course he told me, Mike. He wanted to piss me off. Guess what? It worked.” He glared. “If you need help on your little meeting with Carlos, call Fiona.”
“Sam, wait—”
Too late. Sam had already stormed out.
Michael couldn’t help but be thankful for his brother.
Larry’s trap had almost worked. Why was it still so easy for Larry to manipulate him? He hated that about himself, the way he’d let him climb into his head and, in Fi’s words, build a little nest.
At least now he’d be out of their hair for awhile.
Still, not everything was back to normal. He’d apologized, but things between him and Sam were still awkward. He didn’t know how to fix that.
“Michael?” called Fi’s voice suddenly.
He glanced up to see her walking into his loft. “Yeah, Fi?”
“We should talk,” she said. “Sam told me what Larry told him.”
Michael winced. “Great.”
Fi rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t surprised.”
“You weren’t?” Michael gave her a curious look.
“With the way he acts around you, and especially with the way he talked to me? Of course not,” she said, then paused. “‘Sometimes you’re exactly what he needs, and sometimes he pushes you away,’” she continued, obviously quoting something Larry had said. Looking thoughtful, she added, “He’s a snake, but he wasn’t wrong about that.”
“Fi,” Michael started, but Fi shook her head.
“No, Michael,” she said. “That, plus what Sam told me—it made me realize something. Sometimes you need someone like me,” she said, “and sometimes you need something else.” She smiled knowingly. “Someone like Sam.”
“What—”
“Don’t interrupt. I’m not done.” She smirked just a little. “You want us both, don’t you? But you think you have to choose. That’s very noble of you, Michael, very self-sacrificing. Very you.”
“Fi, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I understand.” She met his eyes. “You need Sam just as much as you need me.” At his look, she snorted. “You’re not misunderstanding me. You’re just pretending you are. Call Sam, Michael. Talk to him.”
With that, she kissed him, and then left.
“Sam, we need to talk.”
“You apologized, Mike. What else is there to talk about?”
“How about how you’re still barely looking at me?”
Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Larry.”
“Yeah,” Michael said. “Larry.”
“What kind of person sleeps with Larry?” he demanded.
“I did.”
“Yeah, obviously. What I don’t get is why? How much different were you, Mike? How much more like him?”
“A lot more,” he said. “I told you. That part of me gets smaller—”
“But Larry, Mike?”
“What do you want me to say, Sam?” Michael demanded. “I was young and angry and Larry was there and he was a hell of a lot more supportive than my father had ever been. He saw right through me and he got exactly what he wanted. And yeah, part of me knew that, but he was like a drug, and when we were together, what was right almost never won out over what felt good, and it felt fucking good. Is that what you want to hear?”
Sam’s jaw tightened. “I hate that bastard,” he said. “I’m glad I decked him.”
“You did?”
“When he told me.”
“Yeah?” Michael gave him a sidelong look. “Why?”
“Because he pissed me off.”
“By telling you about us,” Michael said. “Why did that piss you off?”
“Because Larry’s the kind of guy Satan would take a step back from and go, 'Whoa there, buddy, lighten up a little on being evil, huh?'”
Michael snorted. “Was that the only reason?”
“What are you getting at, Mike?”
“I’m saying there’s a reason he told you. He was trying to drive a wedge between us.” He paused. “Jealousy is a good way to do that.”
Sam stilled. “You think I’m jealous.”
“Are you?”
Sam met his eyes. They stared silently at each other for a long moment. “I hate the idea of him being within ten city blocks of you,” he said at last.
Michael moved first, closing the distance between them and kissing Sam hard. Sam deepened it, pushing him roughly back against his work bench. “I wanted you the first time we met,” he told him, once they broke apart. “Larry’s always known that.”
“Don’t say that name right now. Or ever again,” Sam said, and Michael laughed, which got cut off halfway through when Sam kissed him again, deep and claiming. He groaned into it, hands going to Sam’s back, and pressed closer. He groaned again, this time in disappointment, when Sam pulled away suddenly. “Wait,” he said, breathless. “Fiona.”
“Is okay with this,” Michael said. “She told me to go for it.”
“Good,” Sam said, relaxing. “I’d rather not be blown up.”
“I should tell her you were concerned.”
“Mikey, come on,” Sam groaned. “She’d never let that go.”
Michael grinned. “Then maybe you should keep me otherwise occupied.”
Sam smirked at him. “Yeah? Fine. I can do that.”
He tugged Michael toward the bed.
“Aw, look who kissed and made up,” Fi said softly, letting herself into the loft. Sam rolled his eyes, raising an eyebrow when Fi sat right down on the bed. She nudged Michael’s calf and he woke with a start, hand reaching under his pillow for his gun before his brain caught up to the reflex.
“Fi,” he half-yawned, giving her a look that was somewhere between wary and curious.
“Just dropped by to see how your talk went last night.” She smirked. “Very well, I see.”
“Yeah, you could say that,” Sam replied.
“Good.”
Sam’s eyebrow lifted again when she nudged Michael over, closer to him, and settled against Michael’s other side, hand absently rubbing his thigh. Fi only smiled at him.
Michael, for his part, was looking back and forth between them, as unsure as Sam had ever seen him. That was interesting, Sam thought, and when he saw Fi’s smile morph into a smirk, he caught on, smirking back.
“Yeah, it is,” he said.
“Excellent.” She grinned. “I can share if you can, Sam.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
Michael was still glancing back and forth at both of them. “Guys?”
“Don’t worry, Michael,” Fi said, smile too sweet to not also be a little wicked. “You’re ours now.”
Sam grinned as Michael’s expression turned wary. “Relax, Mikey,” he said. “I think you’re going to enjoy it.”
“Oh, he’ll definitely enjoy it,” Fi agreed, smirking.
“Guys,” Michael said again, raising an eyebrow.
“He doesn’t seem to be taking our word for it. Maybe it’ll be easier to show him?”
“That’s not a bad idea.”
They decided to show him together.
Easy.