T-Bag/Maytag, work
Title: Just a Little Fun
Character/Pairing: T-Bag/Maytag
Prompt: #89, "Work"
Rating: PG
Summary: Continuation of T-Bag's "got a job for ya" comment. Mean sneaky!T-Bag, more abused!Maytag.
Author's Notes: Abruzzi cameo, yay. And Sara. Poor Maytag, ya gotta figure he paid a lot of dues before being so accepted.
"Ready for the show, boys?" T-Bag smirked when Maytag was out of earshot.
The yard seemed bigger than it had last week. T-Bag looked so small and distant, watching from the bleachers as Maytag wandered away with hands thrust deep in his pockets and eyes straight ahead. He followed the instructions exactly. Walk slowly, don’t look back, and whatever you do, don’t let a CO catch you. If you fuck up, keep your mouth shut or the SHU will be the least of your concerns.
The plastic bag of pills in his sock pinched against his ankle and boot, but he made sure not to show it. A few inmates watched him pass with vague curiosity at why he was straying from T-Bag. Maytag hoped they’d be content to just look if he didn’t acknowledge them.
Just as he’d been told, the man he was looking for was easy to find. With slicked back hair and a couple sizeable men to either side, he sat playing cards with a certain aloof air that made Maytag feel he was important. A different kind of important. T-Bag was a menacing, threat to your life kind. This man seemed like the classy meals and cigars type. Maytag hesitated for a moment a few feet from the game.
“Are you John Abruzzi?”
“Depends on who’s askin’,” Abruzzi didn’t look up, tossing a card into the middle of the table.
“Jason Buchanan.” He stepped up to the table, more confident that he wouldn’t be killed just for interrupting. The man to Abruzzi’s left leaned over to mumble something in John’s ear.
“Just T-Bag’s new cell mate, boss.” Abruzzi rolled his eyes.
“What’s the pervert want now?”
“Nothing,” Maytag shook his head, smiling a little at the bitterness, “I’ve got business for you.”
“Oh?” Abruzzi laid his cards face down and finally looked up at the boy, sarcastic smile spreading over his face, “And what might that be?”
“Erm,” Maytag glanced around until he was satisfied no one else was within hearing range, “I was told you wanted to buy some....stuff.”
“Some ‘stuff’?”
“Ya know,” he lowered his voice until Abruzzi could barely hear, “pills.”
“We’re not lookin’ for any drugs, kid. Bagwell knows that.” John picked up his cards and waited for his turn, expecting the kid to walk away. Maytag was about to leave when the man to Abruzzi’s left stopped him.
“What you got exactly?”
“Uh,” Maytag tried to remember all the fancy names T-Bag had said, “Ketamine, ecstasy, oxy...”
“This some kinda joke?” the man glared at him.
“Wha-? No.” Maytag frowned and took a nervous step back as he started to stand up.
“You’re dead, fish,” the man snapped, pausing halfway off the bench and looking to Abruzzi for the go ahead. After regarding his cards for a minute, John placed his winning hand on the table and looked up with a smile and nod as he collected the cards for the next round.
Before he could run away, Maytag’s face slammed into the grass, hands pulled behind his back and hard boots driving into his ribs. A blow to the head blurred his vision, dirt coating the side of his face. Far off shouts to back away barely registered as he felt himself pulled off the ground and dragged off to the infirmary with an empty sock. Across the yard, T-Bag and the Alliance laughed at the limp figure being carried away.
“Put him over there.” With a sigh, Sara Tancredi watched the guards carry in the nearly unconscious boy covered in dirt and darkening bruises. “What’s his name?”
“Jason Buchanan, been here a week or two.”
“Surprised he lasted this long,” she murmured, pulling on a pair of gloves. Maytag’s eyes opened wider at the feel of a hand on his face, tipping his head to the side. “Jason? What happened?” He stared at her genuinely concerned expression as she wiped the mud from his face.
“Nothing.” Not having expected anything else in reply, Sara went on examining his bruises. Maytag flinched when she touched his ribs, and she gave him an apologetic smile.
“Unbutton your shirt.” He shivered when the cold, sterile air hit his skin, but the gentle way Sara’s fingers poked around his bruises created different shivers altogether. “I don’t think it’ll be too bad, just sore for awhile. Did someone hit you in the head? The black eye looks old.”
“Yeah, that’s not from today,” he mumbled, looking away before he told her everything. She guided his face back, looking for any more signs of head trauma. His eyes were focusing ok, and he was answering her questions clearly. When he finally met her eyes again, he just looked sad and afraid, like every other first timer that had been carried through those doors.
“All I’ve got are some painkillers, but...” she always hated sending such young things out to be sent right back with worse injuries the next week, “I can keep you overnight for observation, if you’d like. To make sure you don’t have a concussion.” Maytag thought for a minute before shaking his head and buttoning his shirt. Whatever T-Bag planned to do to him would just be worse if he had a night to think about it.
“Nah. S’alright.” After taking the little white cup of pills, a CO came to lead him back to his cell. Sara stood at the door and watched him limp, shaking her head as a guard in the hallway snickered at her concern.
“He’ll be back. He’s in with Bagwell.”
“Good to see you walkin’, boy, still got all your fingers?” T-Bag grinned from his bunk as Maytag sat down next to him. A rather bold move on his part, but T-Bag was in too good a mood to object. “Doc fix ya up?”
“I guess.” Maytag stared at his lap, worried he’d be sent back to the infirmary when T-Bag found out all the drugs were gone and even more disappointed with himself that he'd failed.
“Pretty, ain’t she?” Maytag shrugged. “My last cellie took quite a likin’ to her. But then, he saw her often enough.”
“She’s alright.”
“I saw our little transaction didn’t go as planned.” T-Bag smiled at the way Maytag tensed.
“Said they didn’t want any n’ kicked the shit out of me,” he sulked.
“Huh, well ain’t that the damndest thing. Ya know, I swiped those pills from Johnny’s boy just the other day, thought for sure he’d want them back.”
“You...” Maytag’s mouth hung open in shock and anger.
“Aw, don’t get all upset.” T-Bag rubbed his shoulder, squeezing when Maytag tried to brush him off. “Ya did good, kid. Just a little fun, those mafia boys think they run the fuckin’ world, and you got a nice trip to the doc out of it.”
“Not like she could do anything but give me an aspirin.”
“In here, you’re lucky if all you need is an aspirin.”
Character/Pairing: T-Bag/Maytag
Prompt: #89, "Work"
Rating: PG
Summary: Continuation of T-Bag's "got a job for ya" comment. Mean sneaky!T-Bag, more abused!Maytag.
Author's Notes: Abruzzi cameo, yay. And Sara. Poor Maytag, ya gotta figure he paid a lot of dues before being so accepted.
"Ready for the show, boys?" T-Bag smirked when Maytag was out of earshot.
The yard seemed bigger than it had last week. T-Bag looked so small and distant, watching from the bleachers as Maytag wandered away with hands thrust deep in his pockets and eyes straight ahead. He followed the instructions exactly. Walk slowly, don’t look back, and whatever you do, don’t let a CO catch you. If you fuck up, keep your mouth shut or the SHU will be the least of your concerns.
The plastic bag of pills in his sock pinched against his ankle and boot, but he made sure not to show it. A few inmates watched him pass with vague curiosity at why he was straying from T-Bag. Maytag hoped they’d be content to just look if he didn’t acknowledge them.
Just as he’d been told, the man he was looking for was easy to find. With slicked back hair and a couple sizeable men to either side, he sat playing cards with a certain aloof air that made Maytag feel he was important. A different kind of important. T-Bag was a menacing, threat to your life kind. This man seemed like the classy meals and cigars type. Maytag hesitated for a moment a few feet from the game.
“Are you John Abruzzi?”
“Depends on who’s askin’,” Abruzzi didn’t look up, tossing a card into the middle of the table.
“Jason Buchanan.” He stepped up to the table, more confident that he wouldn’t be killed just for interrupting. The man to Abruzzi’s left leaned over to mumble something in John’s ear.
“Just T-Bag’s new cell mate, boss.” Abruzzi rolled his eyes.
“What’s the pervert want now?”
“Nothing,” Maytag shook his head, smiling a little at the bitterness, “I’ve got business for you.”
“Oh?” Abruzzi laid his cards face down and finally looked up at the boy, sarcastic smile spreading over his face, “And what might that be?”
“Erm,” Maytag glanced around until he was satisfied no one else was within hearing range, “I was told you wanted to buy some....stuff.”
“Some ‘stuff’?”
“Ya know,” he lowered his voice until Abruzzi could barely hear, “pills.”
“We’re not lookin’ for any drugs, kid. Bagwell knows that.” John picked up his cards and waited for his turn, expecting the kid to walk away. Maytag was about to leave when the man to Abruzzi’s left stopped him.
“What you got exactly?”
“Uh,” Maytag tried to remember all the fancy names T-Bag had said, “Ketamine, ecstasy, oxy...”
“This some kinda joke?” the man glared at him.
“Wha-? No.” Maytag frowned and took a nervous step back as he started to stand up.
“You’re dead, fish,” the man snapped, pausing halfway off the bench and looking to Abruzzi for the go ahead. After regarding his cards for a minute, John placed his winning hand on the table and looked up with a smile and nod as he collected the cards for the next round.
Before he could run away, Maytag’s face slammed into the grass, hands pulled behind his back and hard boots driving into his ribs. A blow to the head blurred his vision, dirt coating the side of his face. Far off shouts to back away barely registered as he felt himself pulled off the ground and dragged off to the infirmary with an empty sock. Across the yard, T-Bag and the Alliance laughed at the limp figure being carried away.
“Put him over there.” With a sigh, Sara Tancredi watched the guards carry in the nearly unconscious boy covered in dirt and darkening bruises. “What’s his name?”
“Jason Buchanan, been here a week or two.”
“Surprised he lasted this long,” she murmured, pulling on a pair of gloves. Maytag’s eyes opened wider at the feel of a hand on his face, tipping his head to the side. “Jason? What happened?” He stared at her genuinely concerned expression as she wiped the mud from his face.
“Nothing.” Not having expected anything else in reply, Sara went on examining his bruises. Maytag flinched when she touched his ribs, and she gave him an apologetic smile.
“Unbutton your shirt.” He shivered when the cold, sterile air hit his skin, but the gentle way Sara’s fingers poked around his bruises created different shivers altogether. “I don’t think it’ll be too bad, just sore for awhile. Did someone hit you in the head? The black eye looks old.”
“Yeah, that’s not from today,” he mumbled, looking away before he told her everything. She guided his face back, looking for any more signs of head trauma. His eyes were focusing ok, and he was answering her questions clearly. When he finally met her eyes again, he just looked sad and afraid, like every other first timer that had been carried through those doors.
“All I’ve got are some painkillers, but...” she always hated sending such young things out to be sent right back with worse injuries the next week, “I can keep you overnight for observation, if you’d like. To make sure you don’t have a concussion.” Maytag thought for a minute before shaking his head and buttoning his shirt. Whatever T-Bag planned to do to him would just be worse if he had a night to think about it.
“Nah. S’alright.” After taking the little white cup of pills, a CO came to lead him back to his cell. Sara stood at the door and watched him limp, shaking her head as a guard in the hallway snickered at her concern.
“He’ll be back. He’s in with Bagwell.”
“Good to see you walkin’, boy, still got all your fingers?” T-Bag grinned from his bunk as Maytag sat down next to him. A rather bold move on his part, but T-Bag was in too good a mood to object. “Doc fix ya up?”
“I guess.” Maytag stared at his lap, worried he’d be sent back to the infirmary when T-Bag found out all the drugs were gone and even more disappointed with himself that he'd failed.
“Pretty, ain’t she?” Maytag shrugged. “My last cellie took quite a likin’ to her. But then, he saw her often enough.”
“She’s alright.”
“I saw our little transaction didn’t go as planned.” T-Bag smiled at the way Maytag tensed.
“Said they didn’t want any n’ kicked the shit out of me,” he sulked.
“Huh, well ain’t that the damndest thing. Ya know, I swiped those pills from Johnny’s boy just the other day, thought for sure he’d want them back.”
“You...” Maytag’s mouth hung open in shock and anger.
“Aw, don’t get all upset.” T-Bag rubbed his shoulder, squeezing when Maytag tried to brush him off. “Ya did good, kid. Just a little fun, those mafia boys think they run the fuckin’ world, and you got a nice trip to the doc out of it.”
“Not like she could do anything but give me an aspirin.”
“In here, you’re lucky if all you need is an aspirin.”