Sinking 04/10 - Oz: Beecher/Murphy
Sinking
by Dr Squidlove
drsquidlove@livejournal.com
Beecher didn't fuck up his parole buying drugs for Bonnie. Yay, everything is awesome! Only... he's maybe not handling his parole as well as other people think he is. Meanwhile, Sean Murphy's been pining after Tim McManus for too damned long. Even so, the two of them hooking up for a blow job is about the worst idea possible.
Beecher/Murphy, with sidelines in Beecher/Keller and McManus/Murphy
Rated R for considerable amounts of fucking.
Wordcount this chapter: 2767
Total wordcount: 29 000-ish
Oz and all its characters are the property of Tom Fontana and HBO. I make no profit, and intend as little infringement as I possibly can.
Sinking 4/10
by Dr Squidlove
In chapter 3, some stupid detective urge had Sean staking out the law office where Toby allegedly worked, just so Sean could prove to himself he didn't. Instead, Sean found Toby working as a shopping cart collection guy across the street. Sean did his best to convince Toby that he was better than this, so Toby reminded him in vivid terms what a fuck-up he is, and rammed home the point by sucking Sean's dick in the loading dock.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Keller was watching his own muscles bulge under the weight of the barbell, the flex and stretch of that blasphemous tattoo of Christ. It was a show for anyone who cared: fuck me, fight me, Keller didn't give a shit, as long as someone was paying attention. Small wonder he'd thrived on Beecher's manic obsession.
Testosterone and vanity wasn't Sean's type. He could see it, for sure: two hundred pounds of muscle and sex, but Sean tended to go for wiry guys, geeks. The day Tim got reading glasses in high school, Sean had to feign a hangover to explain his inability to form coherent sentences. Sean had never quite forgiven him for the LASIK surgery.
Not his type, but after that blow job in the loading dock, Sean'd started to wish he had a chance to see Keller and Beecher fucking each other. All that raw obsession from both of them and Beecher let loose, no holding back. It must have been a sight to see, and Sean had never done more than rap his stick against the glass to send Beecher back up to his bunk.
"You wanna be alone, Officer Murphy?"
Sean's eyes snapped up to O'Reily's, then back to find Keller smirking at him, rubbing his abs like a rentboy on the pull.
"Get your mind out of the gutter, O'Reily. Was just thinking this place could use a little excitement. Maybe an arm wrestling competition." Best save of Sean's life. He wished someone was around to appreciate his improv skills.
O'Reily didn't look entirely convinced, but Keller was flexing like the narcissistic prick he was. "Sounds good to me. How about you, Murphy. Think you can take me?"
Sean snorted. "Just the prisoners this time. I ain't looking to get my arm slashed."
Keller smiled, danger and seduction. "Pussy." He reached out his hand. "C'mon. You and me, right now."
I know how Beecher felt on your cock, Sean thought, 'cos he did the same for me. You like that, you prick? "You got ten minutes before you're due back in Em City." Sean walked away. Now he was going to have to hope Tim or Glynn nixed the idea, because he really didn't fancy himself organising Oz's next disastrous dick-measuring contest.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sean took a swig from his bottle and eyed the crowd. He was going to pick someone up tonight. The bar was full of horny guys who hadn't done time and weren't ever under Sean's supervision. Uncomplicated fucks who could blot out the memory of Beecher's expert mouth, blunt that thrill of danger that had kept him on edge all week.
He'd had friends back in Attica, a neighbourhood, some kind of life. He'd had Mike. He wasn't so far gone as to turn Mike into some kind of romantic memory - he and Mike had been on the outs for months before Tim's call - but a fading relationship they were both too lazy to end was a hell of a lot healthier than whatever Sean was doing these days.
But after all these years, Tim could still get him to upend his life, so here he was. And now he had to find a better way to get laid without compromising his job.
There was a skinny Latino watching the darts game, a little younger than Sean but worth considering. Maybe the guy behind him, whose eyes were running over the crowd just like Sean's. Sean tried to tell himself he wasn't hoping to see Beecher.
Sean could hear his Ma: "That place is gonna be the death of you, just like your father." That was the story she liked to tell herself, but Attica didn't kill his Pa; it was a lifetime of drinking and smoking and a waistline not that much heavier than Sean's own these days. For sure it wasn't because the old man was fucking an ex-con.
Maybe that's why Sean didn't listen when she told him to get the hell out of the prison system and into a safe job where he didn't have to live in the closet. He half-suspected she still believed there was a chance grandkids were gonna sprout out of the air, if only he could find a nice man to play house with.
In bad weeks Sean sometimes browsed the papers for security jobs - bouncer, nightwatch, money vans - and in really bad weeks, like when Tim got stabbed or Dave Brass had his tendon cut, he sometimes even circled them. But Sean was a hack by blood and habit, and even if he wasn't heading in to see Tim every day, he'd be kidding himself if he pretended he was ever going anywhere else.
"You stalking me?"
Sean jumped, barely catching himself from dropping his beer. "Shit Beecher. No. This was my bar when you were still a guest of the state."
Beecher dropped onto the stool beside Sean's. "Usually come here alone? I don't see your pals tonight."
"What the fuck does it matter? Beecher, you go do whatever or whoever you want to do. Let me enjoy my night."
"Which one?"
"What?"
"Which one are you going to pull? Don't bother with that one over by the post. The walk to the restroom takes longer than him. That one in the loud shirt doesn't look like much, but if you're a size queen, you'll want to mount him on your wall. You a size queen, Murphy?"
"Beecher..." Murphy swung to face him, got his first good look in the light. "Maybe you wanna wipe the coke off your nose."
Beecher's hand jerked up to brush away the powder, guilt flashing through his eyes.
"Getting back on the booze wasn't enough? Christ, Beecher, ya gotta get it together. For your kids, at-"
"Shut the fuck up, you cunt. Don't talk about my kids."
Beecher was a mess, an emotional wreck on a fast slide to destroying his life all over again. Unable to deal with his family, with making a living, with life without Keller. So what was Sean's excuse?
"That one's got a pencil-dick, but he gives a half-decent blow job." Beecher sat there making inane chat - Jesus Christ, he'd had a lot of the guys in here - until Sean's bottle was empty, and Sean realised he either had to buy Beecher a drink or snub him. All the talk of cocks and blow jobs had him horny as hell, but it looked like he wasn't going to shake Beecher. Better to call it a night.
"Y'know, I've appreciated all your insight, Beecher, but I think I'm gonna take an early night. Good luck with... whoever." Sean waved his hand around at the all-you-can-eat cock on offer, and slid off his stool. He waved to Mike as he passed the bar, but Mike's eyes slid behind him, and Sean sighed as he glanced back. Apparently Beecher was taking an early night too.
Sean ignored him, pushing his way out into the cool night air, winding his way through the parking lot. He looked around for a familiar blue BMW because Beecher was headed the same way. He couldn't see it, and his back got straighter with every step. Beecher was following him.
Sean sure as shit wasn't bringing Beecher back to his place. He kept hoping Beecher would get the hint that he was being ignored. Sean took the keys out of his pocket as he reached the car and a body pressed up behind him, and hack instincts braced for a shank but Beecher reached around and cupped his package, a slow rub that had him from heavy to upright in seconds.
"Beecher..." He didn't bother to finish his protest, and Beecher didn't bother to acknowledge it.
Beecher felt out the shape of him through his jeans, squeezed along his length. Taking his measurement. It wasn't something a size queen would mount on a wall, but Sean had nothing to be ashamed of.
Sean looked around the parking lot. A couple heading to their car, a carload of loud kids driving in. There were shadows here but it wasn't exactly dark. Sean fucked in cubicles but he didn't-
His zipper was dragged down, and a hand slipped in, reached all the way in to hold his balls and Sean's breath drained out of him. He reached out to brace himself against the car door, keys cutting into his palm. Beecher's hard cock pressed against his ass cheek.
"What do you want out of this, Beecher?"
"Maybe I just get off on how easy it would be to shank you right now." Beecher rolled his sack. "Does that turn you on? You always acted the straight hack in there, but here you are, secretly playing games with crazy Tobias Beecher."
Sean was transparent. Beecher's hand was fantastic.
"I'm going to suck you off. And then you're going to suck me off."
"Beecher-"
"Protesting now just makes you seem like a bigger idiot when I stuff my cock in your mouth."
The guy was obnoxious but he was right. Sean turned to lean back against the car and Beecher slid to his knees.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sean always paid attention after Beecher visited, now, waited with his heart in his throat for Keller's return to see if this was the day that Keller sauntered into Oz and let his gaze drift knowingly up to the control station.
But it was only morning, and something had already set Keller off. He'd been acting weird yesterday, too. Moodier than his usual indifferent self: snapping at O'Reily, provoking the homeboys, irritating the shit out of Sister Pete. Even Tim commented on the bug up Keller's ass.
"Beecher's visiting day," said Sean, and immediately regretted it. Tim didn't need to know Sean paid that much attention. He'd come up to sprawl on the couch in Tim's office specifically to stop himself from watching Keller.
Tim just took another peek through his blinds. "So it is." He shook his head. "That fucking pair." Tim turned from the window, rubbing a hand over his head. "But I'm guessing it has more to do with his visitor on Monday."
"Monday?" Sean had been off Monday. He'd blown Beecher in the parking lot on Sunday night. Nobody could know that. Keller couldn't know that. Sean stared at Tim, who was clueless. Jesus. Who the hell could have thrown Keller this far off his game, other than Beecher himself?
"Beecher's mother."
"What?"
Tim shook his head. "I'd have given my left nut to eavesdrop on that conversation."
No kidding. "Beecher's mother visited Keller? So what happened?"
"Nothing. They talked. Half an hour, then she strolled off and Keller went back to his pod." Tim wandered over and plopped on the couch beside Sean, close enough that their knees bumped. "If she's smart, she was telling Keller to leave Beecher the fuck alone. Beecher's got a real chance out there, a better chance than most." Sean snorted, and Tim shot him a look. "What?"
"Nothing. I gotta get back." Sean collected the clipboard of paperwork and headed down to the control station. He flipped straight to the list of visitors. Even already knowing, his gut did its usual turn when he saw Beecher's name. Sean's stomach didn't churn like that first visit anymore, but the fear wasn't going to go away. He didn't know why Beecher had never told Keller about Sean. Maybe he was afraid to tell him; maybe he was just saving it up for a special occasion. Sean wasn't going to know until everything went to shit.
Keller was prowling the floor, and for once the rest of the dinks had the good sense to keep their distance. Sean watched with a buzz in his gut, years of prison instincts making friends with the good old-fashioned paranoia that came with fucking a sociopath's boyfriend. What the fuck could Beecher's ma possibly have said to him? Hard to believe the woman looked kindly on the guy, but Beecher's dad had worked Keller's case... right up until doing that got him murdered. The woman had buried a husband, a daughter-in-law and a grandson. Sean wondered if the country club or whatever social world she lived in still gossipped about her convict son.
Keller's gaze never lingered on Sean yesterday, so it was reasonable odds that at least she hadn't been dropping him in the shit. Did she have a handle on how fucked up her son was these days? Or was she as blinkered as everyone around here?
Nobody else was paying Keller much attention except O'Reily, who was keeping his watch from upstairs, well out of the way.
Sean turned as Tim jogged down the stairs to the station. There was a shit-eating grin on his face, and he was waving a sheet of paper. "Glynn caved. We got our extra guard."
Sean grinned back. Of course Tim got what he wanted. A new guard would be-
A cheer rose half a second before a crash. Two bodies rolling by the upended table, and Sean threw down the clipboard to join the other officers, was halfway there before he realised it was Keller and the new kid hurling punches and curses.
Guards seized the pair of them and hauled them apart.
"I didn't do anything!" yelled Carter.
Keller surged against the arms pinning him back, got loose and went for the kid, but only made two steps before he was beaten down by the guards. And then beaten some more.
Sean yelled, "Enough! Enough!" He didn't have a problem with putting the dinks down when they were out of line, but once they were down, you stopped. Same for Keller as anyone.
"That's it, Keller! You're in the Hole!" Tim yelled it from the top of the stairs
Sean pushed forward to grab the back of Keller's shirt and haul him to his feet. "I'll take him. Get going, Keller."
Surprisingly, Keller cooperated, calm like nothing had happened. He didn't even bother to spare Carter another glance, just led the way, chin high, towards the gate.
They didn't speak all the way to AdSeg, where Keller started stripping his own clothes before Sean even asked. "Looks like you've fucked up visiting privileges for a while," chanced Sean.
Keller never even looked up as he kicked his pants aside. "Yeah, looks like I have." He stood at the door, waiting, jaw set.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sean hitched up his towel and dug his clothes out of the locker. He knew this much for sure: it was no accident Keller got himself thrown in the Hole just an hour before Beecher showed up to see him.
He was pulling on his pants as Mineo wandered in. "Hey Murph."
"Joe." Sean hesitated. Mineo had been on the visiting desk today. Sean took a deep breath, wondered if he could dig without seeming too curious. "How was your day?"
"The usual," Mineo grunted.
Sean gave his hair another rub with the towel, wondering how to ask without seeming like he was digging for anyone specific.
"Kind of a nutty from Beecher," said Mineo.
"Oh?" A 'kind of a nutty' from Beecher could be anything from from nursery rhymes to a tornado of destruction.
"Shoutin' and hollerin' and demanding to know why Keller was in the Hole 'til I asked if he'd like to save himself some trouble and move back in."
Sean buttoned his shirt. That was about the response he would have guessed Beecher would give to finding out his boyfriend was in the Hole. Sean couldn't call him to explain. "Keller picked a fight with Carter."
"What the fuck does he care about Carter?" It was a good question. "Never mind. There never was any logic to that fucking pair."
Sean had no business calling Beecher. Beecher wouldn't want him acting like they were friends and confidantes.
Mineo pulled his bag out of his locker. "Looks like a lawyer in his suit and tie, but you ask me, Beecher's one good tantrum away from being right back in here with him."
Sean fought the urge to stare, calmly pulled out his wallet and keys. Mineo saw what the rest of them were blind to.
"Don't know why anyone expects any better. Schillinger taught him well. Keller taught him all over again."
"You think Keller taught him?"
"Beecher loved the man who broke his arms and legs. How do you sink lower than that?"
By getting on your knees for a CO. What the fuck would Sean tell Beecher anyway? He was hardly gonna snitch on the guy's own mother.
---
end part 4.
by Dr Squidlove
drsquidlove@livejournal.com
Beecher didn't fuck up his parole buying drugs for Bonnie. Yay, everything is awesome! Only... he's maybe not handling his parole as well as other people think he is. Meanwhile, Sean Murphy's been pining after Tim McManus for too damned long. Even so, the two of them hooking up for a blow job is about the worst idea possible.
Beecher/Murphy, with sidelines in Beecher/Keller and McManus/Murphy
Rated R for considerable amounts of fucking.
Wordcount this chapter: 2767
Total wordcount: 29 000-ish
Oz and all its characters are the property of Tom Fontana and HBO. I make no profit, and intend as little infringement as I possibly can.
Sinking 4/10
by Dr Squidlove
In chapter 3, some stupid detective urge had Sean staking out the law office where Toby allegedly worked, just so Sean could prove to himself he didn't. Instead, Sean found Toby working as a shopping cart collection guy across the street. Sean did his best to convince Toby that he was better than this, so Toby reminded him in vivid terms what a fuck-up he is, and rammed home the point by sucking Sean's dick in the loading dock.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Keller was watching his own muscles bulge under the weight of the barbell, the flex and stretch of that blasphemous tattoo of Christ. It was a show for anyone who cared: fuck me, fight me, Keller didn't give a shit, as long as someone was paying attention. Small wonder he'd thrived on Beecher's manic obsession.
Testosterone and vanity wasn't Sean's type. He could see it, for sure: two hundred pounds of muscle and sex, but Sean tended to go for wiry guys, geeks. The day Tim got reading glasses in high school, Sean had to feign a hangover to explain his inability to form coherent sentences. Sean had never quite forgiven him for the LASIK surgery.
Not his type, but after that blow job in the loading dock, Sean'd started to wish he had a chance to see Keller and Beecher fucking each other. All that raw obsession from both of them and Beecher let loose, no holding back. It must have been a sight to see, and Sean had never done more than rap his stick against the glass to send Beecher back up to his bunk.
"You wanna be alone, Officer Murphy?"
Sean's eyes snapped up to O'Reily's, then back to find Keller smirking at him, rubbing his abs like a rentboy on the pull.
"Get your mind out of the gutter, O'Reily. Was just thinking this place could use a little excitement. Maybe an arm wrestling competition." Best save of Sean's life. He wished someone was around to appreciate his improv skills.
O'Reily didn't look entirely convinced, but Keller was flexing like the narcissistic prick he was. "Sounds good to me. How about you, Murphy. Think you can take me?"
Sean snorted. "Just the prisoners this time. I ain't looking to get my arm slashed."
Keller smiled, danger and seduction. "Pussy." He reached out his hand. "C'mon. You and me, right now."
I know how Beecher felt on your cock, Sean thought, 'cos he did the same for me. You like that, you prick? "You got ten minutes before you're due back in Em City." Sean walked away. Now he was going to have to hope Tim or Glynn nixed the idea, because he really didn't fancy himself organising Oz's next disastrous dick-measuring contest.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sean took a swig from his bottle and eyed the crowd. He was going to pick someone up tonight. The bar was full of horny guys who hadn't done time and weren't ever under Sean's supervision. Uncomplicated fucks who could blot out the memory of Beecher's expert mouth, blunt that thrill of danger that had kept him on edge all week.
He'd had friends back in Attica, a neighbourhood, some kind of life. He'd had Mike. He wasn't so far gone as to turn Mike into some kind of romantic memory - he and Mike had been on the outs for months before Tim's call - but a fading relationship they were both too lazy to end was a hell of a lot healthier than whatever Sean was doing these days.
But after all these years, Tim could still get him to upend his life, so here he was. And now he had to find a better way to get laid without compromising his job.
There was a skinny Latino watching the darts game, a little younger than Sean but worth considering. Maybe the guy behind him, whose eyes were running over the crowd just like Sean's. Sean tried to tell himself he wasn't hoping to see Beecher.
Sean could hear his Ma: "That place is gonna be the death of you, just like your father." That was the story she liked to tell herself, but Attica didn't kill his Pa; it was a lifetime of drinking and smoking and a waistline not that much heavier than Sean's own these days. For sure it wasn't because the old man was fucking an ex-con.
Maybe that's why Sean didn't listen when she told him to get the hell out of the prison system and into a safe job where he didn't have to live in the closet. He half-suspected she still believed there was a chance grandkids were gonna sprout out of the air, if only he could find a nice man to play house with.
In bad weeks Sean sometimes browsed the papers for security jobs - bouncer, nightwatch, money vans - and in really bad weeks, like when Tim got stabbed or Dave Brass had his tendon cut, he sometimes even circled them. But Sean was a hack by blood and habit, and even if he wasn't heading in to see Tim every day, he'd be kidding himself if he pretended he was ever going anywhere else.
"You stalking me?"
Sean jumped, barely catching himself from dropping his beer. "Shit Beecher. No. This was my bar when you were still a guest of the state."
Beecher dropped onto the stool beside Sean's. "Usually come here alone? I don't see your pals tonight."
"What the fuck does it matter? Beecher, you go do whatever or whoever you want to do. Let me enjoy my night."
"Which one?"
"What?"
"Which one are you going to pull? Don't bother with that one over by the post. The walk to the restroom takes longer than him. That one in the loud shirt doesn't look like much, but if you're a size queen, you'll want to mount him on your wall. You a size queen, Murphy?"
"Beecher..." Murphy swung to face him, got his first good look in the light. "Maybe you wanna wipe the coke off your nose."
Beecher's hand jerked up to brush away the powder, guilt flashing through his eyes.
"Getting back on the booze wasn't enough? Christ, Beecher, ya gotta get it together. For your kids, at-"
"Shut the fuck up, you cunt. Don't talk about my kids."
Beecher was a mess, an emotional wreck on a fast slide to destroying his life all over again. Unable to deal with his family, with making a living, with life without Keller. So what was Sean's excuse?
"That one's got a pencil-dick, but he gives a half-decent blow job." Beecher sat there making inane chat - Jesus Christ, he'd had a lot of the guys in here - until Sean's bottle was empty, and Sean realised he either had to buy Beecher a drink or snub him. All the talk of cocks and blow jobs had him horny as hell, but it looked like he wasn't going to shake Beecher. Better to call it a night.
"Y'know, I've appreciated all your insight, Beecher, but I think I'm gonna take an early night. Good luck with... whoever." Sean waved his hand around at the all-you-can-eat cock on offer, and slid off his stool. He waved to Mike as he passed the bar, but Mike's eyes slid behind him, and Sean sighed as he glanced back. Apparently Beecher was taking an early night too.
Sean ignored him, pushing his way out into the cool night air, winding his way through the parking lot. He looked around for a familiar blue BMW because Beecher was headed the same way. He couldn't see it, and his back got straighter with every step. Beecher was following him.
Sean sure as shit wasn't bringing Beecher back to his place. He kept hoping Beecher would get the hint that he was being ignored. Sean took the keys out of his pocket as he reached the car and a body pressed up behind him, and hack instincts braced for a shank but Beecher reached around and cupped his package, a slow rub that had him from heavy to upright in seconds.
"Beecher..." He didn't bother to finish his protest, and Beecher didn't bother to acknowledge it.
Beecher felt out the shape of him through his jeans, squeezed along his length. Taking his measurement. It wasn't something a size queen would mount on a wall, but Sean had nothing to be ashamed of.
Sean looked around the parking lot. A couple heading to their car, a carload of loud kids driving in. There were shadows here but it wasn't exactly dark. Sean fucked in cubicles but he didn't-
His zipper was dragged down, and a hand slipped in, reached all the way in to hold his balls and Sean's breath drained out of him. He reached out to brace himself against the car door, keys cutting into his palm. Beecher's hard cock pressed against his ass cheek.
"What do you want out of this, Beecher?"
"Maybe I just get off on how easy it would be to shank you right now." Beecher rolled his sack. "Does that turn you on? You always acted the straight hack in there, but here you are, secretly playing games with crazy Tobias Beecher."
Sean was transparent. Beecher's hand was fantastic.
"I'm going to suck you off. And then you're going to suck me off."
"Beecher-"
"Protesting now just makes you seem like a bigger idiot when I stuff my cock in your mouth."
The guy was obnoxious but he was right. Sean turned to lean back against the car and Beecher slid to his knees.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sean always paid attention after Beecher visited, now, waited with his heart in his throat for Keller's return to see if this was the day that Keller sauntered into Oz and let his gaze drift knowingly up to the control station.
But it was only morning, and something had already set Keller off. He'd been acting weird yesterday, too. Moodier than his usual indifferent self: snapping at O'Reily, provoking the homeboys, irritating the shit out of Sister Pete. Even Tim commented on the bug up Keller's ass.
"Beecher's visiting day," said Sean, and immediately regretted it. Tim didn't need to know Sean paid that much attention. He'd come up to sprawl on the couch in Tim's office specifically to stop himself from watching Keller.
Tim just took another peek through his blinds. "So it is." He shook his head. "That fucking pair." Tim turned from the window, rubbing a hand over his head. "But I'm guessing it has more to do with his visitor on Monday."
"Monday?" Sean had been off Monday. He'd blown Beecher in the parking lot on Sunday night. Nobody could know that. Keller couldn't know that. Sean stared at Tim, who was clueless. Jesus. Who the hell could have thrown Keller this far off his game, other than Beecher himself?
"Beecher's mother."
"What?"
Tim shook his head. "I'd have given my left nut to eavesdrop on that conversation."
No kidding. "Beecher's mother visited Keller? So what happened?"
"Nothing. They talked. Half an hour, then she strolled off and Keller went back to his pod." Tim wandered over and plopped on the couch beside Sean, close enough that their knees bumped. "If she's smart, she was telling Keller to leave Beecher the fuck alone. Beecher's got a real chance out there, a better chance than most." Sean snorted, and Tim shot him a look. "What?"
"Nothing. I gotta get back." Sean collected the clipboard of paperwork and headed down to the control station. He flipped straight to the list of visitors. Even already knowing, his gut did its usual turn when he saw Beecher's name. Sean's stomach didn't churn like that first visit anymore, but the fear wasn't going to go away. He didn't know why Beecher had never told Keller about Sean. Maybe he was afraid to tell him; maybe he was just saving it up for a special occasion. Sean wasn't going to know until everything went to shit.
Keller was prowling the floor, and for once the rest of the dinks had the good sense to keep their distance. Sean watched with a buzz in his gut, years of prison instincts making friends with the good old-fashioned paranoia that came with fucking a sociopath's boyfriend. What the fuck could Beecher's ma possibly have said to him? Hard to believe the woman looked kindly on the guy, but Beecher's dad had worked Keller's case... right up until doing that got him murdered. The woman had buried a husband, a daughter-in-law and a grandson. Sean wondered if the country club or whatever social world she lived in still gossipped about her convict son.
Keller's gaze never lingered on Sean yesterday, so it was reasonable odds that at least she hadn't been dropping him in the shit. Did she have a handle on how fucked up her son was these days? Or was she as blinkered as everyone around here?
Nobody else was paying Keller much attention except O'Reily, who was keeping his watch from upstairs, well out of the way.
Sean turned as Tim jogged down the stairs to the station. There was a shit-eating grin on his face, and he was waving a sheet of paper. "Glynn caved. We got our extra guard."
Sean grinned back. Of course Tim got what he wanted. A new guard would be-
A cheer rose half a second before a crash. Two bodies rolling by the upended table, and Sean threw down the clipboard to join the other officers, was halfway there before he realised it was Keller and the new kid hurling punches and curses.
Guards seized the pair of them and hauled them apart.
"I didn't do anything!" yelled Carter.
Keller surged against the arms pinning him back, got loose and went for the kid, but only made two steps before he was beaten down by the guards. And then beaten some more.
Sean yelled, "Enough! Enough!" He didn't have a problem with putting the dinks down when they were out of line, but once they were down, you stopped. Same for Keller as anyone.
"That's it, Keller! You're in the Hole!" Tim yelled it from the top of the stairs
Sean pushed forward to grab the back of Keller's shirt and haul him to his feet. "I'll take him. Get going, Keller."
Surprisingly, Keller cooperated, calm like nothing had happened. He didn't even bother to spare Carter another glance, just led the way, chin high, towards the gate.
They didn't speak all the way to AdSeg, where Keller started stripping his own clothes before Sean even asked. "Looks like you've fucked up visiting privileges for a while," chanced Sean.
Keller never even looked up as he kicked his pants aside. "Yeah, looks like I have." He stood at the door, waiting, jaw set.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sean hitched up his towel and dug his clothes out of the locker. He knew this much for sure: it was no accident Keller got himself thrown in the Hole just an hour before Beecher showed up to see him.
He was pulling on his pants as Mineo wandered in. "Hey Murph."
"Joe." Sean hesitated. Mineo had been on the visiting desk today. Sean took a deep breath, wondered if he could dig without seeming too curious. "How was your day?"
"The usual," Mineo grunted.
Sean gave his hair another rub with the towel, wondering how to ask without seeming like he was digging for anyone specific.
"Kind of a nutty from Beecher," said Mineo.
"Oh?" A 'kind of a nutty' from Beecher could be anything from from nursery rhymes to a tornado of destruction.
"Shoutin' and hollerin' and demanding to know why Keller was in the Hole 'til I asked if he'd like to save himself some trouble and move back in."
Sean buttoned his shirt. That was about the response he would have guessed Beecher would give to finding out his boyfriend was in the Hole. Sean couldn't call him to explain. "Keller picked a fight with Carter."
"What the fuck does he care about Carter?" It was a good question. "Never mind. There never was any logic to that fucking pair."
Sean had no business calling Beecher. Beecher wouldn't want him acting like they were friends and confidantes.
Mineo pulled his bag out of his locker. "Looks like a lawyer in his suit and tie, but you ask me, Beecher's one good tantrum away from being right back in here with him."
Sean fought the urge to stare, calmly pulled out his wallet and keys. Mineo saw what the rest of them were blind to.
"Don't know why anyone expects any better. Schillinger taught him well. Keller taught him all over again."
"You think Keller taught him?"
"Beecher loved the man who broke his arms and legs. How do you sink lower than that?"
By getting on your knees for a CO. What the fuck would Sean tell Beecher anyway? He was hardly gonna snitch on the guy's own mother.
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end part 4.