Pairing: Michael/Linc (gen)
Other kids played cowboy and Indians. They played Indians and missionaries. Michael got his grandma’s old hat, the one she used for funerals only, he waved around bottles of holy water and tried to hit people with a book. Ma never allowed them to take the actual bible, though Michael was convinced that using the real thing would have improved his rate of success dramatically. And not just because it was heavier.
More often than not, Linc and his friends would humor him for a while before tying him to the next tree and running off to get ice cream and see girls.
The ropes chafed against his skin. They weren’t too tight and theoretically Michael could have wriggled out of them in five minutes or less. But it was a matter of principle. He bit his lip, dug his nails into the bark and tried to recite psalms in his head.
“Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor stands in the path of sinners, nor … “ The words started slipping from his mind.
He was grateful for his hat, but still the brightness of the day seemed to burn in his eyes and his tongue was getting dry with thirst. He caught himself wishing Linc would come back sooner just this once.
As always Linc came shortly before nightfall, remains of vanilla still sticking to his cheek. Michael could hear his footsteps approaching, so he cleared his burning throat and proclaimed at the top of his voice: “He will be like a tree planted by the water, that bringeth forth its fruit of the season, whose leaves do not wither…“
Lincoln grinned widely at that and approached to undo the ropes around Michael’s chest.
“No!” Michael struggled against the grip of the ties that held him against the tree. “I refuse to be rescued until you have accepted the Lord Jesus Christ, your savior, into your heart, you ungodly brute.”
“Fine. Will you shut up then?”
“I accept Jesus Christ as my lord and savior. Happy now?”
The sweet taste of victory spread inside Michael’s belly, but he did his best to keep his face in a mask of utmost serenity as Linc untied him. He brushed the last traces of bark from his shirt before jumping on Lincoln’s back and allowing God’s latest servant to carry him home.
Weird one. I have a half finished story about the brothers opinions on faith. In that one Michael has lost his. So the idea came what if Michael was still a believer. That somehow ended up with Michael as a missionary and Linc as a feral Indian brave whose soul Michael wants to save. I don't do AUs, so this happened instead.
The psalm used is psalms 1:1 and 1:3. I adapted them slightly because Michael shouldn't be able to remember all the words correctly.
I know there are probably not a lot of trees in Chicago, just assume that there's a park nearby.