behind bars 1/6
masterpost | part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi
part one
"Vile deeds like poison weeds bloom well in prison air,
it is only what is good in man that wastes and withers there."
Oscar Wilde (1854 - 1900), the Ballad of Reading Gaol
~
Despite summer supposedly being in its dying throes, this particular day is warm and sunny. Grasshoppers chirrup softly, creating a gentle harmony to accompany the birds' many varied songs. Every now and then a gentle breeze stir and the trees sway enthusiastically in response, lifting their branches and spreading all the leaves so it can pass between. It is a whole other world, so vast and intriguing, but which humans so infrequently take the time to witness; most because they don't care much, but others because they are deprived from this option.
The line of new inmates walk down the barely lit and cold corridor, one guard in the front, two to the sides and two at the back, all of them following their every move closely. The shackles around their legs and arms create a harsh mix of noise, which makes David's heart race twice as fast as usual and his blood hammer loudly in his veins. He is the last in a line of ten or so inmates, though he hasn't dared to look up to count. Besides, he is still trying to process the fact that from now on this prison will be his home, something that just thinking about it makes his eyes water and his breath hitch in his throat.
They are nearing the end of the corridor, and just as David is about to turn around the corner like the others, a hand reaches out to stop him. His shackles rattle slowly, though the sound is no longer that loud as the other prisoners seem to continue on without him.
"Johns," says one of the two guards still remaining in the now empty corridor.
"Go on Luke," says the guard preventing David from continuing on around the corner. David wonders what is going on, and as he looks up he sees the other guard, Luke, nod twice before turning around the corner (not even bothering to look at David), he starts to worry.
He swallows, nervously waiting what is to come. He doubts it can be anything good, and he cannot stop from flinching when the guard, Johns, places a big hand on his shoulder, strong fingers digging into his dark blue shirt with the word 'inmate' written on the back of it in big, bold, white letters.
"Listen Archuleta," says Johns sharply. David doesn't know where to look, afraid that if he looks up he will have broken some kind of unspoken rule or something like that, because gosh, David has totally seen a couple of prison movies and even that TV show, Prison Break, or whatever it was called. Johns, however, seems to notice his hesitation, and says in a bit gentler tone of voice, "If you want to survive in there, then don't say no to Cook's offer. Trust me."
David's head tilts slightly to the side as he looks confusedly at Johns, trying to take in the guard's warning. His mouth opens, trying to find the correct words, but before he has a chance to say anything, the tall guard continues, "You are exactly his type, and he will come to you. He's not all that bad of a bloke, and yeah..." Johns shrugs. "He and Tiemann will keep you safe as long as you..." Again, Johns' words trail off.
"Um," he says confused, not sure what to say. He isn't entirely certain what Johns is talking about, but then he remembers all the stories he has heard about prisons, and even what happened in some of the movies, and slowly he starts to comprehend Johns warning - or suggestion really, depending on how you decide to look at it. Most importantly, David now has an idea, undesirable as it is, about how to survive in here.
"Oh," he says, surprised. Then, "oh," again, this time in a deflated whisper, head slowly bowing until his eyes are on the floor once more. He shivers as the coldness of the corridor goes through the provided inmate clothes and all the way into his bones as the words slowly seep in, right alongside the coldness.
Johns squeezes his shoulder - strong fingers digging into his flesh for a couple of seconds, in what David assumes is supposed to be in a comforting way - and then pushes him forward to start walking again. He stumbles over his own feet, blushing as Johns' grip on his arm tightens to prevent him from falling. He mutters a thank you, or at least he thinks he does. His lips definitely moved, but he isn't quite sure if any sound managed to escape, and at the moment, he doesn't quite care. The guard mutters something underneath his breath and if David has been paying more attention to the guard, he would have been able to catch the words, but right now he is too distraught to do that.
"Heads up," says Johns, and David looks up, noticing that they have now reached the entry to the cells. His tongue darts out to lick his lips which have gone dry, his hands clenching into fists as he tries to square his shoulders and not look too pathetic in the process. But as the door moves to the side to allow them to enter cellblock H, David's eyes lower once again to the cemented floor as his back hunches over in an attempt to make himself as small as possible, hoping to go unnoticed. There is no way he is going to survive this, he thinks, and when the line starts to walk again, David follows closely behind the guy in front of him.
~
His cell - his home for the next seventeen months, he reminds himself - has been empty since he got there. It is clear though, that he will be sharing it with someone else. One side of the wall is covered with a couple of pictures. David doesn't dare to take a closer look at them, afraid that his cellmate will notice and think he is snooping around. So instead he looks at them from a distance for a few silent moments before turning his gaze to the rest of the cell. The top bunk is made, indicating that it is already taken, which David doesn't mind all that much. He has never been great with heights, so it is with relief that he sits down on the lower bunk, mattress still bare. He knows he will need to fix it soon, preferably before his cellmate returns from wherever he is right now. But he cannot make himself care at the moment.
He has no idea how long he has been sitting there, just staring at the wall, but when he finally looks away from it, someone is standing in the opening of the cell, looking intently at him. The guy probably isn't as big as he seems, but considering that David is far from tall himself and currently sitting down, the guy might as well be a giant.
Finally, the dark-haired guy enters the cell completely and leans up against the wall right in front of David, one foot popped up against the wall as his arms cross over his chest. "So," he says, and David exhales soundlessly. If you could categorize someone judging by their voice, this guy doesn't sound that bad. "I had no idea that they let kids into prisons these days."
The guy sounds bored, yet his voice has a soft edge to it. Almost as if he cares about David's wellbeing, which is probably ridiculous to even think, seeing as they totally don't know each other. Still, as much as David feels like a kid, he gets a sudden urge to defend himself.
"I'm not a kid," he says defiantly. The guy lifts an eyebrow and just stares at David, and David in return blushes under the stare, proving just how much of a kid he is. "I me-mean," he stammers, the words refusing to leave his mouth properly as they are supposed to, "I'm eighteen. So I'm not, you know, technically a kid anymore."
"Uh-huh," says the guy, mouth quirking slightly, "If you say so kiddo." David's mouth opens automatically to correct him, but closes quickly when he sees the look the guy gives him, both eyebrows raised in surprise as if he hadn't expected David to even consider saying something. It is almost as if he is daring David to say what he wants to say, but David has never been good with confrontations. Instead he opts to close his mouth and remain silent.
"Good call," says the dark-haired man, leaning down until their faces are so close that David can feel the guy's breath on his face. And gosh, David totally thinks that this is one of those defining moments or whatever they are called in the shows, where one cellmate dictates how it's going to be for the time they will be sharing together. David's eyes lower to the ground, nervous for what will happen, various scenarios playing through his head, each one worse than the next. They both stay like that for a few long moments, neither of them saying anything.
"Good call," says the man again, voice quiet and gentle, and finally moves away. David feels like he just missed something vital. He looks at the floor, pondering if this maybe was prison bonding or something like that.
"Dinner is in half an hour, so you should probably get your bed fixed before then." David looks up to see the guy standing in the doorway again, one foot already out of the cell. "I'm Andy Skib by the way."
And because David comes from a home where they have learned good manners and how to respect their superiors (in all senses of the word) he gets up and holds out his hand. "I'm David," he says. Nothing happens though. "Archuleta," he adds, when the guy just looks at David's outstretched hand. Then the guy laughs, head falling forward until his chin rests on his chest, the half-long dark hair shielding his face from David's eyes.
"Good to know," the guy finally says, starting to raise his hand but then promptly lets it fall again down along his side when two inmates walk past them. Then he leaves the cell completely, leaving David standing there with a hand dangling in the air, feeling not only incredible confused but also mildly stupid for introducing himself so formally. After all, this is prison. Not school, and definitely not church. This is an entirely new world, and he dreads the moment he will have to leave the cell, because he isn't sure what the rules are and how to play by them. So in order to keep himself from over thinking all of this, he turns around and starts to make his bed. This he knows how to do.
It doesn't take him nearly as long as he had hoped it would though, and less than four minutes later, he is once again back to just staring at the gray wall, though this time he is sitting on top of a perfectly well-made bed. His eyes keep returning to the small batch of pictures hanging on the wall, but he refuses to let his curiosity get the better of him. After all, Andy Skib could return at any moment, and he doesn't want to be caught looking at the other man's belongings, as he is pretty sure that this will cause a much stronger reaction than just laughing at him.
He wonders what Andy Skib will say if he put up his own pictures of his family. Maybe he is supposed to ask if it is okay first. This is another thing he isn't so sure about. This was Andy Skib's cell first, so maybe he has to like, ask for permission before he does something. Is that a prison rule? He wishes someone had given him a set of guidelines he could follow. Not the prison's guidelines, but the inmates' guidelines.
He hears people walk by the cell, but most don't even look inside the cell. And those who do glance his way don't say anything or make any kind of gesture that that they have even noticed him. It is almost as if he is invisible in here in the darkness of the cell, and for once in his life, David is glad to go by unnoticed. For the first time since his arrest, he silently prays to God for strength to survive in here.
~
He is tempted not to go to dinner. He really, really is. But the longer he waits, the more noise his stomach seems to make, growling and demanding to be fed in an almost comical way that reminds him of when he would be so caught up in whatever he was doing at home that he forgot all about food until his stomach would complain and his mom would bring him something... He refuses to think about his mom right now, fully knowing that if he allows himself to take a walk down memory lane he will just end up crying like a baby. And because he refuses to behave like a kid (and because he knows that he won't be able to wait until breakfast the next day), he gets up from the bed and walks over to the open cell door.
"You gonna' step out of that cell?" asks a voice, kind and heavily accented. Southern, David thinks, as he looks at the man the voice belongs to. He isn't tall, maybe just a bit taller than David himself, and he looks pretty and young and not at all like someone who would belong in a prison. Though he never thought he would be in a prison himself either, so maybe he isn't such a good judge of character.
"You know," says the young man, taking a step towards David who in return takes a step further back into his cell again; back into safety - which is funny, because he has not even been here for half a day, and already he has been lulled into the assumption that the cell will be safe. He hopes, with all he is worth, that this will be more than just an assumption.
"Relax," says the man and stops walking closer, his hands raised up as if surrendering. "No need to be nervous. Ain't gonna' hurt you. Just thought you could use a friend, you know?" The guy's lips twitches, and soon David can spot a smile, though he notices that as genuine as the guy seems, the smile never does reach the eyes.
David glances warily at the man. Looks can be deceiving, that much he has learned from past experience. Still, he finds himself nodding. It is true, he could use a friend; he could use someone to explain the rules to him, and someone who he could talk to. And as they stand there, watching each other, David hopes that this man can be just that.
"I'm Kris Allen. You can call me Kris though. Or Allen, but I actually prefer Kris." The guy, Kris, smiles and holds out his hand for David to shake. David looks at the hand, silently appreciating the friendly gesture that he had tried to extend to Andy Skib earlier. He takes a step forward, raising his own arm, hand touching Kris' in a brief shake.
"I'm David Archuleta," he introduces himself, and smiles softly.
"I know," says Kris, and David lets go of Kris' hand and looks at the other inmate confused, smile slowly turning into a frown. "Andy told me come get you," explains Kris. "He thought you could use a friend. But even if he hadn't told me, I still would've come. Because everyone needs a friend, right?" Kris smiles, looking almost hopeful, and David finds himself returning the smile, though less enthusiastically than before. What does it mean when his cellmate thinks he needs a friend? Is it meant as a kind gesture or does Andy Skib have ulterior motives for doing this? Normally David would have thought only the best of people, giving them the benefit of the doubt, but after all he has been through, he isn't so sure if he can do just that.
"So, jug-up, yeah?" says Kris, nodding in the direction of the double doors at the other end. David has no idea what jug-up means, but before he gets a chance to say anything, his stomach answers for him, once again protesting at the lack of food. He blushes, biting nervously into his lower lip as he tends to do when he is worried, but Kris just smiles broadly and says, "Let's find some food for you."
They walked down the broad hall, heading towards the heavily guarded cafeteria. He sees the guard from before standing just inside the doors, holding onto a riffle. The guard nods at him as they walk past, and David is sure that Johns just smiled at him, but when he turns around to check, Johns is no longer looking at him and Kris.
They enter the line, and David has to force himself to stand straight and not walk pressed up against the wall, even though that is what he kind of wants to do right now. Kris, probably sensing his insecurity, looks understandingly at him before saying, "You gotta' relax. Otherwise you'll be dead meat before you've even made it out of the line."
Gosh. He's pretty sure that Kris means it in the most positive way, but all it does is make him look over his shoulder every now and then to make sure that no one is standing behind him with a knife. Or something similarly sharp that could cause a lot of pain. He never was quite good with pain. He forces himself to inhale and exhale slowly, and by the time they leave the line with their trays, his breathing is normal again. Well, almost.
David looks around, and sees Andy Skib sitting with another guy at a table not that far away. The guy is covered in tattoos, permanent drawings running up along the arms and twirling around the neck. He swallows, and hopes that Kris won't be leading him to that table, but the fact that Kris had only come to his cell because Andy Skib had told him so lingers at the back of his mind, and correctly enough, they do head that way. The two men haven't noticed them yet though, and David seriously hopes that he will be able to remain unnoticed.
"Hi," says Kris as they approach the table, and David stops a few feet away as Kris sits down next to Andy Skib, uncertain as to what he ought to do. He watches as Andy Skib lifts his hand and places it on Kris' neck, gripping the hair tightly for a few seconds before petting the skin softly. Almost lovingly, he thinks, as he sees Kris relax into the hand.
The guy with the tattoos leans back a bit and looks David up and down, a disconcerting leer appearing on his lips. David proceeds to blush, his cheeks and neck coloring a nice pink as he looks down at his tray, suddenly finding the food mighty interesting.
"Sit," says the guy, voice rough as if he smokes a lot. The guy points at an empty place next to himself, and David just looks, his feet suddenly unable to walk any closer. "Don't make me say it again," says the guy irritably, and David nods anxiously before forcing his legs to move. It seems to take him forever to walk those final steps, but he finally makes it to the appointed seat and sits down, lowering his tray onto the steel table.
Kris smiles at him, and even the corner of Andy Skib's mouth turns somewhat up into a smile for a split second before he turns to the heavily tattooed man and picks up their conversation from where they had left it before. Or at least David thinks so. He doesn't pay attention, too caught up in trying not to freak out too much, which, um, yeah, that's probably not going as well as hoped. He is so lost in his own little world, trying to eat and breathe and just plain out function properly, when he hears a word, or a name more likely.
"What's with Cook?" he asks, and looks at Kris who stares at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging (unattractively) open. David swears he can see some food in there and his nose wrinkles in disgust, but then he remembers where he is so he quickly looks away, hoping Kris won't be like totally offended or something.
He returns his gaze to the southern inmate just as Kris closes his mouth and clears his throat, glancing quickly at Andy Skib and the tattoo guy next to David before asking, "You know Cook?" David doesn't need to see Kris' expression to notice that his new friend is confused, because it's all there in the voice: a bit shaky, squeaky even. David glances over at Johns briefly, before shaking his head 'no'. Kris, however, seems to have picked up the reason for David's inquiry, and grins knowingly, his worried expression slowly disappearing.
"Cook is, well, he's Andy and Tiemann's friend. I just asked when he would be out of dissociation." Kris winks at him, and David feels like they are sharing a secret, except he cannot for the life of him figure out what the secret is.
"Tomorrow," says the tattoo guy, Tiemann apparently, teeth gritting together as he looks at David. David remembers Johns' words about Cook and Tiemann, but he has to admit, that right now, Tiemann doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would keep guys like David safe. In fact, he looks like the kind of guy who wouldn't mind inflicting the pain. David shudders as an image of being hit repeatedly by the big tattooed hands over and over again enters his mind. He glances warily at the hands, noticing letters written on the fingers. So it goes is what they say, and David gulps down some of his juice as he timidly shifts a bit in his seat.
"And don't speak unless spoken to," adds Tiemann, sounding impatient and looking like he is mere seconds away from decking David. Or maybe the hand twitching is all just in David's head, but he still nods and closes his mouth. He hunches over the table in a pathetic attempt to focus on his meal in front of him, but he finds that he no longer has any appetite, and his stomach no longer growls loudly but merely lets out these weird soft noises every now and then to remind David that the hunger won't go away from just looking at the food.
"Neal," says Andy Skib, voice stern. Nothing else is said though. Tiemann just huffs, and for the rest of the meal, no one speaks to him and he doesn't say a word either. It's uncomfortable to sit there, and he is grateful when Andy Skib and Tiemann seem to be finished with their meals and conversation. The two men stand first, and then Kris stands too, looking down at David.
"Let's talk."
~
David doesn't feel like he has gotten much sleep at all, and he could swear that he has been awake most of the night crying his eyes out (but he will never admit to that should anyone ask). So when David wakes the next morning, he is surprised to see Andy Skib already up and about, fully dressed. He rubs his eyes and finds traces of sleep in the corners, and he sits there surprised for a few seconds before he manages to pull himself together.
"I…" he starts to say, but then Andy Skib turns and looks directly at him and David can no longer remember what he wanted to say. His cellmate's eyes narrow somewhat and David thinks that maybe it's a good thing that he cannot remember it after all, because right now Andy Skib doesn't look all too friendly and he doesn't want to push his luck.
And then Andy Skib looks away, sighing profoundly, and David sits up properly on his bed, ducking his head in order not to hit the metal bars of the top bunk with his head.
He hears this weird beeping noise, and then someone walks by outside of their cell. He quickly gets up from the bed, moving carefully around the dark-haired inmate, doing his best not touch anything on his way to the small toilet in the corner.
Andy Skib looks at him, and David clears his throat nervously. He actually really has to pee, but he can't with someone watching. The other inmate seems to notice his difficulty with going in front of others, but instead of looking away like anyone else would have - heck, everyone knows from high school that you do not look at someone else while they are naked or peeing or whatever - Andy Skib just raises an eyebrow.
"I, um," David tries, but then stops, uncertain as to how to tell the other guy to stop looking. "Do you, eh, mind?" he asks, head tilting slightly to the side as he gazes at a spot right next to Andy Skib's head. The other guy doesn't say anything, just smiles and turns his head to look out into the hall. David exhales soundly, and then goes about his business, making sure that he doesn't take too long.
He has just managed to put on his second shoe when the beeping noise returns, and a voice says loud and clear for everyone to hear, "Stand in line for inspection."
Andy Skib moves out of the cell and stands on the black line that runs just about half a meter away from the cell. David sees other inmates stand on the same line, so he walks out and stands next to his cellmate. It is Johns who walks past them, looking up at their faces and then down at his clipboard. When Johns reaches him, the guard offers him a small smile, and David finds himself smiling back a little, because even though they are not standing on the same line, a friendly face is still a friendly face.
Andy Skib elbows him harshly on the shoulder, and David looks up at the other man, hurt and confused, and gasping for air as he tries to remain calm, because oh my heck that had really, really hurt. He is certain that there will be a bruise. No one says anything, but the guys standing on the line across the hall from them snickers just loud enough for David to hear. David glares at them hotly, trying to be brave and not be such a kid.
"Punks like you shouldn't be friendly with the hacks." It's not Andy Skib who tells him this, but the guy standing on David's other side. Though David was quickly introduced to the guy yesterday as he and Kris made their way back from the cafeteria to his cell, he has already forgotten the name. Carrico something, he thinks, but he could be mistaken. The guy is tall, and has longish blonde hair that is tied together in the back, and he looks kind of scruffy with a couple days worth of stubble. The slight under bite doesn't make him seem more appealing, David thinks. "We ain't liking the hacks in here," the guy continues, "and we ain't liking the punks who likes the hacks either."
David looks at the floor, even more perplexed than before. Was that even supposed to make sense?
Then the beeping noise returns for the third time, and the inmates break out of the line and all start to walk in the direction of the cafeteria. He automatically sticks close to Andy Skib, who completely ignores him. David is so lost in his own world that he feels the cold floor against his cheek before he even realizes that someone just tripped him.
"Oops," says a voice, laughing. David lifts his head to see one of the guys who had been snickering before. The guy glances down at David, practically leering, and David wishes that he had stayed in his cell today, because he has not even had breakfast yet and there is already someone picking on him? Then he remembers that Kris had actually predicted something like that to happen; had told David to be aware of his surroundings in here, to stick to those he could trust. The problem is David doesn't have anyone he can trust, not really, and apparently being friendly with guards isn't a good thing, which leaves him pretty much back at square one.
David places his hands on the floor and tries to push himself up to his knees, but a foot is placed on the small of his back, keeping him firmly attached to the floor. He tries to move, to squirm, but the foot just presses harder against his spine, and in the end he has to give up.
"Say sorry for walking into my mate here," says a new voice, and David turns his head to the other side and sees a slim guy who's so pale that even his eyelashes seem translucent under the kind of fluorescent light that the prison is using all over the place. David vaguely remembers Kris saying the guy's name was Colton or something like that, and also to steer clear from him - which yeah, too late for that. Whatever the guy's name is, he is definitely glaring at David as if David has wronged him somehow. He swallows and closes his eyes, worried for what might just happen here if he doesn't do as the guy says. He wonders why the heck none of the other inmates do anything about it or better yet, where in the world the guards have gone, because he could really use some help right about now.
Colton gets down on one knee and twists his fingers into David's hair, gripping it tightly and pulling until David's neck feels like it's about to break. "You've got a problem with your hearing, huh?" David tries to shake his head, but the fingers are wounded too tightly around his hair, so all he manages to do is let out a squeak of pain as his eyes starts to water.
"Let go of him," says a voice that David vaguely recognizes. Tiemann, he thinks, and when the person moves around and stands in front of them, David can see that true enough, it is Tiemann, if the tattoos on the hands and arms are anything to go by. There's another male standing with him, judging by the two pairs of legs next to each other, but David doesn't have time to consider who it might be when Colton slams his forehead down into the floor before releasing him. He cries out and curls together as his hands reach up to gently touch his aching forehead. There's no blood though, which is good, because he never was very good with blood, but oh, the pain is excruciating.
"How stupid are you Colton? For fucks sake. If you've got a problem, take it to the limbo room. Not out here in the open." Tiemann sounds angry, or maybe it's more like disappointed really, and that was so not what David had expected to hear at all. Limbo room? It almost sounds like Tiemann just said it was okay as long as it was… well, not here, for everyone to see. David shivers, and before he can stop himself, he lets out a whimper.
"Oh fuck me, he's precious," says the other guy, and squats down in from of David, strong fingers gripping his chin tightly, raising David's head until their eyes lock together. When David shivers this time around, it's not because he's in pain or scared, but because this guy looks so closely at him that it makes the hair on David's arms stand up. The other hand moves up to push back David's hair, fingers softly caressing the bruise that Colton has just given him. David winces, but the guy doesn't allow him to move his head away.
"You taking him?" asks a third voice, and David sees Andy Skib suddenly appearing behind the guy holding onto his chin. A second later, Kris appears next to Andy Skib and curls a hand around David's cellmate's arm. David's eyes return to the guy in front of him, and if he was the kind of person to swear, he would have sworn that he had never seen such intense eyes before. David doesn't swear, though that doesn't make it any less true.
"Oh fuck yeah, no question about that," the guy says and leans so close that David nearly falls in order to get away.
David sees Andy Skib nodding thoughtfully behind the guy, and Kris offers David a small smile, which David figures is supposed to be encouraging. His head still hurts too much to appreciate whatever it is he is supposed to be appreciating right now though.
"Right then. Colton, Hernandez, if you ever touch this boy again, you won't just have to answer to Cook, but to me as well. Got it?" David looks surprised up at Tiemann, and then returns his gaze to the guy who's still squatting in front of him. Wait, this is Cook? The guy that Johns had told him would be his best option? The guy that Kris had told him yesterday was a great guy? His eyes widen, surprised and nervous.
"Don't look so panicky darling, I'm not going to hurt you," says Cook, grinning widely as he reaches out to pet David's hair. It seems oddly demeaning, but David doesn't dare to say anything, just closes his eyes as he feels strong fingers run through his hair. The fingers continue to dance lightly over his face, touching the bruise on the forehead before they continue down to tease his neck. Then it stops. David opens his eyes and sees Cook now standing, looking down at him, making David squirm under the heated gaze, smirking as if he likes seeing David being all uncomfortable.
"Come on David," says Kris, moving away from Andy Skib and holds out a hand for David to take. David glares at it for a few seconds, befuddled, but then reaches out to place his own hand in Kris', and pushes away with his feet in order to get up. He glances hesitantly at Cook out of the corner of his eyes, watching as Tiemann and Cook talk quietly about something. About him, David realizes when the two men look at him for a long moment before continuing their conversation.
"It'll be okay," promises Kris, and David hopes that it won't just be an empty promise; hopes that there is something to it, because he has got nothing else to lean on right now but hope.
~
Breakfast was surprisingly quiet. But after is when things start to get out of hand a bit. Having sat with his head down during the entire meal, David had managed to not see the looks that the other inmates had been sending their way, but they have barely stepped out of the cafeteria when everything goes kind of wrong.
Pale, slender fingers twist around the back of his neck, making David instinctively raise his shoulders to make it stop hurting. "Relax pet," whispers Cook, warm breath caressing David's cheek. "Just going to go back to my cell so we can show the others who you belong to."
Kris and Andy Skib walk past them and David tries to catch Kris' eyes, but the other inmate doesn't even look at him as they disappear into Kris' cell. David feels betrayed and wonders why nobody told him that something like this would happen. Or why Johns had made it sound like he had a choice in all of this, when really it's Cook who runs the show.
"Hurry the fuck up," hisses Tiemann, sounding impatient and angry, and Cook pushes David so hard that David nearly stumbles over his own feet. Cook chuckles behind him, and helps David stand properly again before pushing him along.
Then David is guided into Cook and Tiemann's cell, both guys following him into the tiny room. David has never felt claustrophobic before, but right now it feels as though the walls are about to swallow him whole.
"Why-" he tries to ask as Cook makes him sit on the bottom bed, but is interrupted by Cook cuffing him so hard on the side of his cheek that his ear starts to ring. He lifts his arm, trying to shield himself from more blows, but Cook is apparently satisfied with just one. David realizes that one is enough, because within a few seconds, his cheek starts to sting something terribly.
"Don't fucking talk unless spoken to! I told you yesterday," says Tiemann, arms crossed over his chest as he leans up against the wall a few feet from the bars. David looks at him, blushing under the gaze of the tattooed man, eyes welling slightly with tears, before returning his gaze to Cook who stands in front of him. Where Tiemann looks positively dangerous, Cook actually looks friendly. Well, kind of at least. David doesn't like the smirk or the way the eyes that wander up and down his body, but at least Cook doesn't talk that way to him. Yet, he reminds himself. If there is one thing David has learned, then it is that everyone can change in a split second. Even those you thought you could always count on can suddenly turn around and be someone else entirely. He knows from experience that something like that hurts an awful lot, all the way into your bones.
"Don't worry about Tiemann," says Cook, and reaches out to gently touch David's cheek (the one that stings a bit after the smack from before), and David winces but wills himself to sit still. Cook smiles, seemingly pleased with David's ability to sit still even when his gut tells him to get the heck out of there immediately.
"You want to be my boy, right?" asks the inmate, and David's eyes lower to the floor before closing. He'd prefer to not be anyone's boy in here, but his conversation with Kris the day before looms at the back of his mind.
"In here it's safer for guys like, well, us, to… find someone, and let them take care of you," Kris had said and offered David a soft and kind smile. David had looked at the other inmate confused, not really understanding what he had meant with 'guys like us'. Before he gotten a chance to ask, Kris who had obviously noticed his confusion and had continued a few seconds later, "We aren't big or strong or powerful. And in here, power is everything. If you can't be powerful yourself, then you're as good as dead. Being with someone like Andy has protected me… and it's actually not all that bad. He's a good person and he cares. And I care about him too. And you can learn to care about someone too. Maybe even someone like Cook."
The conversation had continued, but that is this part of the conversation that practically haunts David, because deep down, he knows that Kris is right. David hasn't got what it takes to be someone powerful, doesn't have what it takes to become one of the strong ones. His little encounter with Colton and that Hernandez guy earlier is proof of that, and if they did something like that to him out in the open, then he doesn't want to know what someone could do to him in the limbo room, or whatever it was that Tiemann called it.
David lifts his head up, eyes still closed tightly as he tries to force the tears that loom behind his eyelids to go away. Cook's thumb moves across his cheek and lingers at his bottom lip, gently prying his lips apart. "I'll take care of you," Cook promises, and David wishes that he could believe the man. Nonetheless, he opens his eyes, ignoring the fact that they are still a bit wet, and then blinks one, two, three times.
"No," he whispers awkwardly against Cook's thumb, surprising himself. That was not what he meant to say at all. Cook stares at him, eyes narrowing into tiny slits.
"No?" he drawls, sounding angry.
"I-I don't want to," he finally manages to stammer out, already regretting it the moment the words leave his mouth. He had wanted to say yes, wanted to just give in so he could get whatever protection he might need, but something inside him made him turn down the offer. Stupid? Probably, he thinks, but it's done now. He considers taking back the words; considers to changing his answer to a 'yes'.
Cook leans back, his finger leaving David's lips as if burned, looking at David like he's five seconds away from hitting him. David sees the hand curling into a fist for a couple of seconds before unclenching the fist again.
"Get out," says Tiemann, uncrossing his arms slowly, stepping away from the wall.
David moves from the bed, legs buckling as he stands. He feels weird, as if the air is too light.
"Out," snarls Cook, and curls his fingers around David's upper arm, squeezing once before pushing him out of the cell. He stumbles and almost knocks his head against the bars, his breath leaving him as though he has been punched in the stomach.
He sees Kris standing not that far from the cell, eyes widening for a split second before turning blank. David doesn't know what to say to him, and Kris doesn't say anything either, just turns away, arms crossing over his chest, as David walks past him. He bows his head, walking fast to his own cell.
~
He's enters the cafeteria as one of the firsts for dinner. He glances warily at the empty steel tables, uncertain as to where he should sit. Part of him wants to go sit at the Cook's table, but he knows that it will probably not be accepted. Finally - after nearly being knocked over by some inmates who walk past him -he settles for a table near the guards, because if he remembers correctly, it had been empty the day before.
He watches as Cook, Andy Skib, Kris and Tiemann enter the room. He kind of wishes he had gotten a chance to talk with Andy Skib earlier, but his cellmate had never returned to the cell before lunch - which he had totally skipped, choosing to stay in his cell rather than go alone - and he had never seen Andy Skib after lunch either.
He silently begs for Kris to look his way, but Kris doesn't. Cook does though, however David kind of wishes that he hadn't, because Cook's cool, indifferent look just makes him feel uncomfortable.
He's halfway through his dinner when a shadow suddenly looms over the table. He looks up, paling as he sees a big guy standing there, looking none too pleased with David sitting there. The guy puts down his tray angrily, the food nearly falling off the tray in the process.
"That's my table," he sneers, face red. David cowers, scared and somewhat embarrassed as he notices that they suddenly have everyone's attention.
"Um," he offers, his fingers gripping the edges of his own tray, quickly getting up, "sorry, I didn-" He swallows, taking a deep breath, "I didn't know that this table was taken. Sorry."
The guy doesn't look like he believes David, and David swiftly steps back, eyes big and wide. "I honestly didn't know."
"Get lost kid," sneers the inmate, and takes the seat that David had just gotten up from. The guy looks over his shoulder, then at David's tray. "And that's mine too," he says haughtily, tattooed fingers swiftly sweeping David's cup of pudding from the tray.
David leaves the room, head bowed in shame, ignoring Johns as he walks past the guard. He doesn't need to see Johns' look to know what it will look like. He should have accepted Cook's proposal - should have just said yes - and then none of this would have happened.
He spends the rest of the evening in his cell, already in bed and ready for the night when Andy Skib returns seconds before the bell rings. He looks at his cellmate, almost pleadingly, hoping to get some kind of advice, but Andy Skib ignores him completely.
"I don't-" he whispers, but Andy Skib just goes about his routine, brushing his teeth and peeing before crawling into his bed. The light goes out a couple of minutes after that and David lies awake for almost three hours, just watching the darkness as he tries to collect his thoughts.
Stupid, he thinks, and clenches his fingers around the sheet. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he chants in his head, and turns onto his side, facing the wall.
His eyes are red and itching from the lack of sleep when he wakes up the next morning. Andy Skib is already dressed, sitting on his bed reading a book. David tries to see which book it is, but Andy Skib's hand is partially covering the title. He sighs, and walks over to the toilet in the corner, forcing himself to get ready.
He eats breakfast alone too, though at a different table, this one a bit closer to the guards than the one from last night. He hurries through his food, almost choking on it, desperate to get out of the cafeteria and go back to his cell. Once his plate is clear and his juice is gone, he sits there for a second, taking in the other inmates around him. They are all talking, and David has never felt more alone than right now.
He sees Cook and the others walking past him, Kris walking a bit behind them. Without even thinking about it, he grabs unto Kris' wrist as the other inmate walks past him.
"Kris," he tries. Kris stares at him, then at David's hand.
"Sorry," is all Kris says, before pulling his arm back, and then Kris is walking away. David follows the southern inmate with his eyes for as long as he can.
"This is my table," says the guy from last night. David turns and looks, surprised.
"Um," he says. "But this is a different table," he dares to add, looking up from underneath his eyelashes to look at the guy.
"Are you calling me a liar?" hisses the inmate, leaning down over David, trapping him in his seat.
"No, I just, no, sorry, I didn't mean to," he hurries to say, his breath quickening.
"Sounded like it," whispers the guy, and then quickly proceeds to push David's face down to the table, pressing his cheek against the cold surface of the steel table. It hurts terribly, and he can feel tears forming in the corner of his eyes, the catcalls and whistles coming from the other inmates only making it even more humiliating.
"Hey, none of that Smith. Release him now," says a guard, and David doesn't have to see who it is to know that it's Johns. The inmate, Smith, presses his hand even harder against David's cheek before finally releasing him and stepping back as if he hadn't touched David at all.
"Do it again, and I'll have to throw you in isolation. You know the rules," says Johns.
"I hardly even touched him," laughs Smith, and walks away.
"Archuleta," says Johns, and it's not until his name is said that he realizes that he's still lying with his face pressed against the table. "Go get cleaned up," tells Johns, and David nods.
He doesn't go to his cell, but rather heads straight to Cook and Tiemann's cell. He sees the two in there, and stops just as he reaches the bars.
"Okay," he says, quietly, voice barely audible. Cook looks over his shoulder, and when he sees that it's David standing there, he gets up from the bed. David chances a quick glance at Tiemann, who looks weirdly at him. Then Tiemann nods, arms uncrossing slowly. David watches the tattoos, and unconsciously licks his lips, before returning his gaze to Cook.
"Come in," says Cook, grinning. David enters the cell, head bowed and cheeks burning with shame. He stops in front of Cook, flinching when Cook raises a hand. He doesn't strike David though, just presses his thumb against his lips like he had done the day before. He licks his lips again, his tongue touching the tip of Cook's finger.
"Oh fuck yeah," hisses Cook, and presses the thumb further into David's mouth. David stares up at Cook with wide eyes, but Cook isn't even looking at him but at Tiemann who stands there in the middle of the cell opening, looking at the two of them.
"I'm going to go talk with Skib," Tiemann informs them suddenly, and before David has a chance to think about what this means, he and Cook are alone in the cell.
"I don't-" he starts to say around the thumb, but then remembers that Cook hasn't allowed him to talk. He swallows the rest of the sentence and briefly wonders how he'll be able to do this. Cook's head tilts slightly to the side as he looks inquiringly at David, and then the thumb is removed from his mouth. Cook traces the now wet digit across his cheek, marking him with his own saliva, until he reaches David's short dark hair.
"You don't what?" asks Cook, grinning smugly.
"I've never-I don't know-I can't," he finally ends up saying, ashamed and near panicking.
"But you're going to," states Cook as he twists his fingers into David's dark strands of hair, leaving no room for arguing. Cook tugs at the ends a bit, making David's scalp prickle and ache, and David knows that he doesn't stand a chance. Cook is his only chance for survival in here, even though it pains him to admit it. .
~
David can barely force anything down at lunch, his throat achy and his stomach churning at the sight of food. The fact that Cook has placed a possessive hand at the back of his neck doesn't help either. He can hear the other inmates talking around them, and there are even a few who come over to the table to talk to Cook and Tiemann. David ignores them though, and barely hears what they say as he continues to stare dizzily at the food, his entire face burning with humiliation.
"Why's Carrico giving you the red eye?" asks Tiemann, but David has no idea who Carrico is and he can't find himself to even care right now.
"He saw your boy being friendly with a hack yesterday morning," answers Andy Skib, eyes on David.
Cook pinches David's neck, and this makes him look up. "Who?" asks Cook, the question clearly for Andy Skib even though he's looking at David who finds himself cowering under the hard stare.
"Johns."
"You friends with Johns?" This time the question is for David, though the tone is indifferent, so he can't tell if it's a good or a bad thing. He considers it, not entirely sure if he can call Johns a friend. True, the guard had been friendly and offered David advice when he could have just let him walk into this blindly, but still, friends? Not really, no.
"He took me aside when I arrived," David tries to explain. "He told me…" he looks at Cook for a few seconds before looking back down at his food. Cook squeezes his neck again, this time a bit gentler than before. "He said to accept your offer. Said you'd come for me." The words are no louder than a whisper, and he wonders if Cook even heard him at all. Except then Cook ruffles his hair, and for the first time since they sat down at the table, the older man lets go of David completely.
"Guess he deserves a big birthday gift this year then," laughs Cook, and David looks up to see Andy Skib and Kris smiling, and even Tiemann's lips twitches a bit, though it never turns into a real smile. David exhales soundly, bewildered and truth be told, a bit disgruntled.
"Johns is a friend," explains Cook, winking amusedly. David can't see what's so amusing, because oh gosh, he had really thought that he would be beaten or something worse for exchanging smiles with a guard. Heck, even Andy Skib had elbowed him, hard, on the shoulder, which kind of still hurts a little. He hasn't looked, but he's sure that he's gotten a bruise.
"Johns is a friend," says Tiemann, breaking the laughter. "Though that doesn't mean a punk like you should be smiling to the hacks or whatever it was you did. People will think you are like Noriega over there," he says, pointing at a skinny dark-haired boy sitting close to the guards. David looks at the boy, wondering what is so bad about Noriega.
"He likes guards. Gives him the kind of protection he needs in here, if you know what I mean," Cook tells him, and David just continues to stare blankly at the boy. "He's Yeager's fuckboy," Cook adds, and David winces at the crude remark, finally looking away from Noriega. "He spreads his legs for Yeager who in return gives him certain privileges."
David bows his head, feeling sorry for Noriega, but mostly for himself if he has to be completely honest. When they get up from the table, his food is barely touched. They move across the cafeteria, and the closer they get to the guards standing up against the walls, the faster David wants to go. Johns had been nice to him, but apparently there had been more to it.
"Thanks man, I owe you," Cook grins as they walk past Johns, the other inmate's hand back on his shoulder to keep him close. Johns laughs in return, and David feels like a fool.
"Thought he was your type," says Johns and shrugs casually before winking at Cook. David is positive that if they stand here any longer, he is going to do something stupid, like, well, get angry or throw up. Thankfully they move before something like that happens, walking into the hall that is filled with inmates. They don't stop to talk though, but rather continue to walk to one of the cells. It's his own and Andy Skib's cell, he realizes as he is being pushed into it. He sees Andy Skib's pictures hanging on the wall.
Five people standing in a cell this small is difficult, and David almost offers to leave just so he can find somewhere he can be alone and maybe, possibly scream until his lungs hurt (or cry, seeing as his throat is still sore from earlier). But then he blushes, because thinking of his sore throat makes him think of what he had been doing with Cook before lunch.
"Up," says Cook, and before David has a chance to react, strong hands are gripping his waist and lifting him up as if he weighs nothing. He is placed on Andy Skib's bunk, and he shifts uncomfortably on the white sheet. Kris joins him on the bunk, and Tiemann moves a bit to the side until he is standing in the doorway of the cell, fingers curled around the steel bars. David looks curiously at Tiemann for a few silent moments before Cook starts to talk.
"Have you heard from Andrew?"
"Nothing yet," says Andy Skib.
David looks sideways at Kris, trying to make sense of what's happening, but Kris doesn't even look to be paying attention. Andy Skib reaches out and runs his hands up and down Kris' thighs, and David shifts again, quickly looking at the ceiling. He hears Kris sigh and sees Andy Skib out of the corner of his eye lean closer to Kris, whispering something in the other inmate's ear that makes Kris chuckle. Then the chuckle is followed by another chuckle, which is then replaced with a low moan that has an almost animalistic edge to it.
He wishes he could just disappear, and he is literally five seconds from jumping off the bunk when Cook touches his knee almost affectionately, startling him out of his thoughts. Oh my heck, is all David can think, as Cook moves to stand between his legs, shoulders pushing his legs further apart.
"Stop being so fucking skittish," says Cook sternly, "or I'll give you a reason to be jumpy all the goddamn time."
He nods absently, eyes straying to Cook's face for a split second before looking at a spot on the wall behind the man.
"Sorry," he tries, but is cut off by Cook who grabs his neck and pulls him down until their lips crash together. David has never really kissed anyone before, so he just sits there with eyes wide open as he gazes into Cook's eyes. He can feel Cook's tongue running over his lips, and the sensation surprises him so much that he gasps, his mouth opening slightly. Cook wastes no time before pushing his tongue in and the grip on his neck tightens painfully. He can feel the velvety tongue against his own, and it feels odd, but not entirely unpleasant, he thinks. He tentatively tries to make his own tongue move and a peculiar sense of satisfaction swells in his stomach when Cook groans.
They are interrupted by a beeping sound, and when they pull apart, David (accidentally) leans forward to follow Cook's lips, a desperate whine leaving him before he notices it. Thankfully Cook still stands there, ready to push him back before he makes an ass of himself by falling off the bed. Though the smug smile that he gets makes him blush so hard that even his ears burn.
"Yard time," says Kris, sounding awfully cheerful, too cheerful in David's opinion. David tries to smile, but for some reason he can't look away from Cook who just smirks at him. He hears Kris get down from the bed, and he hears Andy Skib telling Cook they will wait outside for them, but all he sees is the way Cook's head tilts to the side as he gazes intently at David.
"Um, cool," says David, but Kris and Andy Skib are already long gone. Tiemann too, apparently, though David has no idea when the tattooed man had left.
"Fucking precious," whispers Cook, more to himself than to David, or at least that's what it sounds like. David blushes and looks at Cook's red lips, catching his own lower lip between his teeth as he worries it, uncertain how to react to all of this. Then Cook lifts his hands, gently placing them on each side of David's face as he brings them closer together again.
"Oh," says David meekly when he can practically feel the heat from Cook's lips. They kiss again, long and slow and oh my gosh, David is sure that if he doesn't get air soon he might just faint, which would be incredible embarrassing. But then they break apart, Cook panting harshly and David gasping for air.
"Yard time," says Cook, and helps David down from the bed.
~
continue
masterpost | part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi
part one
"Vile deeds like poison weeds bloom well in prison air,
it is only what is good in man that wastes and withers there."
Oscar Wilde (1854 - 1900), the Ballad of Reading Gaol
~
Despite summer supposedly being in its dying throes, this particular day is warm and sunny. Grasshoppers chirrup softly, creating a gentle harmony to accompany the birds' many varied songs. Every now and then a gentle breeze stir and the trees sway enthusiastically in response, lifting their branches and spreading all the leaves so it can pass between. It is a whole other world, so vast and intriguing, but which humans so infrequently take the time to witness; most because they don't care much, but others because they are deprived from this option.
The line of new inmates walk down the barely lit and cold corridor, one guard in the front, two to the sides and two at the back, all of them following their every move closely. The shackles around their legs and arms create a harsh mix of noise, which makes David's heart race twice as fast as usual and his blood hammer loudly in his veins. He is the last in a line of ten or so inmates, though he hasn't dared to look up to count. Besides, he is still trying to process the fact that from now on this prison will be his home, something that just thinking about it makes his eyes water and his breath hitch in his throat.
They are nearing the end of the corridor, and just as David is about to turn around the corner like the others, a hand reaches out to stop him. His shackles rattle slowly, though the sound is no longer that loud as the other prisoners seem to continue on without him.
"Johns," says one of the two guards still remaining in the now empty corridor.
"Go on Luke," says the guard preventing David from continuing on around the corner. David wonders what is going on, and as he looks up he sees the other guard, Luke, nod twice before turning around the corner (not even bothering to look at David), he starts to worry.
He swallows, nervously waiting what is to come. He doubts it can be anything good, and he cannot stop from flinching when the guard, Johns, places a big hand on his shoulder, strong fingers digging into his dark blue shirt with the word 'inmate' written on the back of it in big, bold, white letters.
"Listen Archuleta," says Johns sharply. David doesn't know where to look, afraid that if he looks up he will have broken some kind of unspoken rule or something like that, because gosh, David has totally seen a couple of prison movies and even that TV show, Prison Break, or whatever it was called. Johns, however, seems to notice his hesitation, and says in a bit gentler tone of voice, "If you want to survive in there, then don't say no to Cook's offer. Trust me."
David's head tilts slightly to the side as he looks confusedly at Johns, trying to take in the guard's warning. His mouth opens, trying to find the correct words, but before he has a chance to say anything, the tall guard continues, "You are exactly his type, and he will come to you. He's not all that bad of a bloke, and yeah..." Johns shrugs. "He and Tiemann will keep you safe as long as you..." Again, Johns' words trail off.
"Um," he says confused, not sure what to say. He isn't entirely certain what Johns is talking about, but then he remembers all the stories he has heard about prisons, and even what happened in some of the movies, and slowly he starts to comprehend Johns warning - or suggestion really, depending on how you decide to look at it. Most importantly, David now has an idea, undesirable as it is, about how to survive in here.
"Oh," he says, surprised. Then, "oh," again, this time in a deflated whisper, head slowly bowing until his eyes are on the floor once more. He shivers as the coldness of the corridor goes through the provided inmate clothes and all the way into his bones as the words slowly seep in, right alongside the coldness.
Johns squeezes his shoulder - strong fingers digging into his flesh for a couple of seconds, in what David assumes is supposed to be in a comforting way - and then pushes him forward to start walking again. He stumbles over his own feet, blushing as Johns' grip on his arm tightens to prevent him from falling. He mutters a thank you, or at least he thinks he does. His lips definitely moved, but he isn't quite sure if any sound managed to escape, and at the moment, he doesn't quite care. The guard mutters something underneath his breath and if David has been paying more attention to the guard, he would have been able to catch the words, but right now he is too distraught to do that.
"Heads up," says Johns, and David looks up, noticing that they have now reached the entry to the cells. His tongue darts out to lick his lips which have gone dry, his hands clenching into fists as he tries to square his shoulders and not look too pathetic in the process. But as the door moves to the side to allow them to enter cellblock H, David's eyes lower once again to the cemented floor as his back hunches over in an attempt to make himself as small as possible, hoping to go unnoticed. There is no way he is going to survive this, he thinks, and when the line starts to walk again, David follows closely behind the guy in front of him.
~
His cell - his home for the next seventeen months, he reminds himself - has been empty since he got there. It is clear though, that he will be sharing it with someone else. One side of the wall is covered with a couple of pictures. David doesn't dare to take a closer look at them, afraid that his cellmate will notice and think he is snooping around. So instead he looks at them from a distance for a few silent moments before turning his gaze to the rest of the cell. The top bunk is made, indicating that it is already taken, which David doesn't mind all that much. He has never been great with heights, so it is with relief that he sits down on the lower bunk, mattress still bare. He knows he will need to fix it soon, preferably before his cellmate returns from wherever he is right now. But he cannot make himself care at the moment.
He has no idea how long he has been sitting there, just staring at the wall, but when he finally looks away from it, someone is standing in the opening of the cell, looking intently at him. The guy probably isn't as big as he seems, but considering that David is far from tall himself and currently sitting down, the guy might as well be a giant.
Finally, the dark-haired guy enters the cell completely and leans up against the wall right in front of David, one foot popped up against the wall as his arms cross over his chest. "So," he says, and David exhales soundlessly. If you could categorize someone judging by their voice, this guy doesn't sound that bad. "I had no idea that they let kids into prisons these days."
The guy sounds bored, yet his voice has a soft edge to it. Almost as if he cares about David's wellbeing, which is probably ridiculous to even think, seeing as they totally don't know each other. Still, as much as David feels like a kid, he gets a sudden urge to defend himself.
"I'm not a kid," he says defiantly. The guy lifts an eyebrow and just stares at David, and David in return blushes under the stare, proving just how much of a kid he is. "I me-mean," he stammers, the words refusing to leave his mouth properly as they are supposed to, "I'm eighteen. So I'm not, you know, technically a kid anymore."
"Uh-huh," says the guy, mouth quirking slightly, "If you say so kiddo." David's mouth opens automatically to correct him, but closes quickly when he sees the look the guy gives him, both eyebrows raised in surprise as if he hadn't expected David to even consider saying something. It is almost as if he is daring David to say what he wants to say, but David has never been good with confrontations. Instead he opts to close his mouth and remain silent.
"Good call," says the dark-haired man, leaning down until their faces are so close that David can feel the guy's breath on his face. And gosh, David totally thinks that this is one of those defining moments or whatever they are called in the shows, where one cellmate dictates how it's going to be for the time they will be sharing together. David's eyes lower to the ground, nervous for what will happen, various scenarios playing through his head, each one worse than the next. They both stay like that for a few long moments, neither of them saying anything.
"Good call," says the man again, voice quiet and gentle, and finally moves away. David feels like he just missed something vital. He looks at the floor, pondering if this maybe was prison bonding or something like that.
"Dinner is in half an hour, so you should probably get your bed fixed before then." David looks up to see the guy standing in the doorway again, one foot already out of the cell. "I'm Andy Skib by the way."
And because David comes from a home where they have learned good manners and how to respect their superiors (in all senses of the word) he gets up and holds out his hand. "I'm David," he says. Nothing happens though. "Archuleta," he adds, when the guy just looks at David's outstretched hand. Then the guy laughs, head falling forward until his chin rests on his chest, the half-long dark hair shielding his face from David's eyes.
"Good to know," the guy finally says, starting to raise his hand but then promptly lets it fall again down along his side when two inmates walk past them. Then he leaves the cell completely, leaving David standing there with a hand dangling in the air, feeling not only incredible confused but also mildly stupid for introducing himself so formally. After all, this is prison. Not school, and definitely not church. This is an entirely new world, and he dreads the moment he will have to leave the cell, because he isn't sure what the rules are and how to play by them. So in order to keep himself from over thinking all of this, he turns around and starts to make his bed. This he knows how to do.
It doesn't take him nearly as long as he had hoped it would though, and less than four minutes later, he is once again back to just staring at the gray wall, though this time he is sitting on top of a perfectly well-made bed. His eyes keep returning to the small batch of pictures hanging on the wall, but he refuses to let his curiosity get the better of him. After all, Andy Skib could return at any moment, and he doesn't want to be caught looking at the other man's belongings, as he is pretty sure that this will cause a much stronger reaction than just laughing at him.
He wonders what Andy Skib will say if he put up his own pictures of his family. Maybe he is supposed to ask if it is okay first. This is another thing he isn't so sure about. This was Andy Skib's cell first, so maybe he has to like, ask for permission before he does something. Is that a prison rule? He wishes someone had given him a set of guidelines he could follow. Not the prison's guidelines, but the inmates' guidelines.
He hears people walk by the cell, but most don't even look inside the cell. And those who do glance his way don't say anything or make any kind of gesture that that they have even noticed him. It is almost as if he is invisible in here in the darkness of the cell, and for once in his life, David is glad to go by unnoticed. For the first time since his arrest, he silently prays to God for strength to survive in here.
~
He is tempted not to go to dinner. He really, really is. But the longer he waits, the more noise his stomach seems to make, growling and demanding to be fed in an almost comical way that reminds him of when he would be so caught up in whatever he was doing at home that he forgot all about food until his stomach would complain and his mom would bring him something... He refuses to think about his mom right now, fully knowing that if he allows himself to take a walk down memory lane he will just end up crying like a baby. And because he refuses to behave like a kid (and because he knows that he won't be able to wait until breakfast the next day), he gets up from the bed and walks over to the open cell door.
"You gonna' step out of that cell?" asks a voice, kind and heavily accented. Southern, David thinks, as he looks at the man the voice belongs to. He isn't tall, maybe just a bit taller than David himself, and he looks pretty and young and not at all like someone who would belong in a prison. Though he never thought he would be in a prison himself either, so maybe he isn't such a good judge of character.
"You know," says the young man, taking a step towards David who in return takes a step further back into his cell again; back into safety - which is funny, because he has not even been here for half a day, and already he has been lulled into the assumption that the cell will be safe. He hopes, with all he is worth, that this will be more than just an assumption.
"Relax," says the man and stops walking closer, his hands raised up as if surrendering. "No need to be nervous. Ain't gonna' hurt you. Just thought you could use a friend, you know?" The guy's lips twitches, and soon David can spot a smile, though he notices that as genuine as the guy seems, the smile never does reach the eyes.
David glances warily at the man. Looks can be deceiving, that much he has learned from past experience. Still, he finds himself nodding. It is true, he could use a friend; he could use someone to explain the rules to him, and someone who he could talk to. And as they stand there, watching each other, David hopes that this man can be just that.
"I'm Kris Allen. You can call me Kris though. Or Allen, but I actually prefer Kris." The guy, Kris, smiles and holds out his hand for David to shake. David looks at the hand, silently appreciating the friendly gesture that he had tried to extend to Andy Skib earlier. He takes a step forward, raising his own arm, hand touching Kris' in a brief shake.
"I'm David Archuleta," he introduces himself, and smiles softly.
"I know," says Kris, and David lets go of Kris' hand and looks at the other inmate confused, smile slowly turning into a frown. "Andy told me come get you," explains Kris. "He thought you could use a friend. But even if he hadn't told me, I still would've come. Because everyone needs a friend, right?" Kris smiles, looking almost hopeful, and David finds himself returning the smile, though less enthusiastically than before. What does it mean when his cellmate thinks he needs a friend? Is it meant as a kind gesture or does Andy Skib have ulterior motives for doing this? Normally David would have thought only the best of people, giving them the benefit of the doubt, but after all he has been through, he isn't so sure if he can do just that.
"So, jug-up, yeah?" says Kris, nodding in the direction of the double doors at the other end. David has no idea what jug-up means, but before he gets a chance to say anything, his stomach answers for him, once again protesting at the lack of food. He blushes, biting nervously into his lower lip as he tends to do when he is worried, but Kris just smiles broadly and says, "Let's find some food for you."
They walked down the broad hall, heading towards the heavily guarded cafeteria. He sees the guard from before standing just inside the doors, holding onto a riffle. The guard nods at him as they walk past, and David is sure that Johns just smiled at him, but when he turns around to check, Johns is no longer looking at him and Kris.
They enter the line, and David has to force himself to stand straight and not walk pressed up against the wall, even though that is what he kind of wants to do right now. Kris, probably sensing his insecurity, looks understandingly at him before saying, "You gotta' relax. Otherwise you'll be dead meat before you've even made it out of the line."
Gosh. He's pretty sure that Kris means it in the most positive way, but all it does is make him look over his shoulder every now and then to make sure that no one is standing behind him with a knife. Or something similarly sharp that could cause a lot of pain. He never was quite good with pain. He forces himself to inhale and exhale slowly, and by the time they leave the line with their trays, his breathing is normal again. Well, almost.
David looks around, and sees Andy Skib sitting with another guy at a table not that far away. The guy is covered in tattoos, permanent drawings running up along the arms and twirling around the neck. He swallows, and hopes that Kris won't be leading him to that table, but the fact that Kris had only come to his cell because Andy Skib had told him so lingers at the back of his mind, and correctly enough, they do head that way. The two men haven't noticed them yet though, and David seriously hopes that he will be able to remain unnoticed.
"Hi," says Kris as they approach the table, and David stops a few feet away as Kris sits down next to Andy Skib, uncertain as to what he ought to do. He watches as Andy Skib lifts his hand and places it on Kris' neck, gripping the hair tightly for a few seconds before petting the skin softly. Almost lovingly, he thinks, as he sees Kris relax into the hand.
The guy with the tattoos leans back a bit and looks David up and down, a disconcerting leer appearing on his lips. David proceeds to blush, his cheeks and neck coloring a nice pink as he looks down at his tray, suddenly finding the food mighty interesting.
"Sit," says the guy, voice rough as if he smokes a lot. The guy points at an empty place next to himself, and David just looks, his feet suddenly unable to walk any closer. "Don't make me say it again," says the guy irritably, and David nods anxiously before forcing his legs to move. It seems to take him forever to walk those final steps, but he finally makes it to the appointed seat and sits down, lowering his tray onto the steel table.
Kris smiles at him, and even the corner of Andy Skib's mouth turns somewhat up into a smile for a split second before he turns to the heavily tattooed man and picks up their conversation from where they had left it before. Or at least David thinks so. He doesn't pay attention, too caught up in trying not to freak out too much, which, um, yeah, that's probably not going as well as hoped. He is so lost in his own little world, trying to eat and breathe and just plain out function properly, when he hears a word, or a name more likely.
"What's with Cook?" he asks, and looks at Kris who stares at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging (unattractively) open. David swears he can see some food in there and his nose wrinkles in disgust, but then he remembers where he is so he quickly looks away, hoping Kris won't be like totally offended or something.
He returns his gaze to the southern inmate just as Kris closes his mouth and clears his throat, glancing quickly at Andy Skib and the tattoo guy next to David before asking, "You know Cook?" David doesn't need to see Kris' expression to notice that his new friend is confused, because it's all there in the voice: a bit shaky, squeaky even. David glances over at Johns briefly, before shaking his head 'no'. Kris, however, seems to have picked up the reason for David's inquiry, and grins knowingly, his worried expression slowly disappearing.
"Cook is, well, he's Andy and Tiemann's friend. I just asked when he would be out of dissociation." Kris winks at him, and David feels like they are sharing a secret, except he cannot for the life of him figure out what the secret is.
"Tomorrow," says the tattoo guy, Tiemann apparently, teeth gritting together as he looks at David. David remembers Johns' words about Cook and Tiemann, but he has to admit, that right now, Tiemann doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would keep guys like David safe. In fact, he looks like the kind of guy who wouldn't mind inflicting the pain. David shudders as an image of being hit repeatedly by the big tattooed hands over and over again enters his mind. He glances warily at the hands, noticing letters written on the fingers. So it goes is what they say, and David gulps down some of his juice as he timidly shifts a bit in his seat.
"And don't speak unless spoken to," adds Tiemann, sounding impatient and looking like he is mere seconds away from decking David. Or maybe the hand twitching is all just in David's head, but he still nods and closes his mouth. He hunches over the table in a pathetic attempt to focus on his meal in front of him, but he finds that he no longer has any appetite, and his stomach no longer growls loudly but merely lets out these weird soft noises every now and then to remind David that the hunger won't go away from just looking at the food.
"Neal," says Andy Skib, voice stern. Nothing else is said though. Tiemann just huffs, and for the rest of the meal, no one speaks to him and he doesn't say a word either. It's uncomfortable to sit there, and he is grateful when Andy Skib and Tiemann seem to be finished with their meals and conversation. The two men stand first, and then Kris stands too, looking down at David.
"Let's talk."
~
David doesn't feel like he has gotten much sleep at all, and he could swear that he has been awake most of the night crying his eyes out (but he will never admit to that should anyone ask). So when David wakes the next morning, he is surprised to see Andy Skib already up and about, fully dressed. He rubs his eyes and finds traces of sleep in the corners, and he sits there surprised for a few seconds before he manages to pull himself together.
"I…" he starts to say, but then Andy Skib turns and looks directly at him and David can no longer remember what he wanted to say. His cellmate's eyes narrow somewhat and David thinks that maybe it's a good thing that he cannot remember it after all, because right now Andy Skib doesn't look all too friendly and he doesn't want to push his luck.
And then Andy Skib looks away, sighing profoundly, and David sits up properly on his bed, ducking his head in order not to hit the metal bars of the top bunk with his head.
He hears this weird beeping noise, and then someone walks by outside of their cell. He quickly gets up from the bed, moving carefully around the dark-haired inmate, doing his best not touch anything on his way to the small toilet in the corner.
Andy Skib looks at him, and David clears his throat nervously. He actually really has to pee, but he can't with someone watching. The other inmate seems to notice his difficulty with going in front of others, but instead of looking away like anyone else would have - heck, everyone knows from high school that you do not look at someone else while they are naked or peeing or whatever - Andy Skib just raises an eyebrow.
"I, um," David tries, but then stops, uncertain as to how to tell the other guy to stop looking. "Do you, eh, mind?" he asks, head tilting slightly to the side as he gazes at a spot right next to Andy Skib's head. The other guy doesn't say anything, just smiles and turns his head to look out into the hall. David exhales soundly, and then goes about his business, making sure that he doesn't take too long.
He has just managed to put on his second shoe when the beeping noise returns, and a voice says loud and clear for everyone to hear, "Stand in line for inspection."
Andy Skib moves out of the cell and stands on the black line that runs just about half a meter away from the cell. David sees other inmates stand on the same line, so he walks out and stands next to his cellmate. It is Johns who walks past them, looking up at their faces and then down at his clipboard. When Johns reaches him, the guard offers him a small smile, and David finds himself smiling back a little, because even though they are not standing on the same line, a friendly face is still a friendly face.
Andy Skib elbows him harshly on the shoulder, and David looks up at the other man, hurt and confused, and gasping for air as he tries to remain calm, because oh my heck that had really, really hurt. He is certain that there will be a bruise. No one says anything, but the guys standing on the line across the hall from them snickers just loud enough for David to hear. David glares at them hotly, trying to be brave and not be such a kid.
"Punks like you shouldn't be friendly with the hacks." It's not Andy Skib who tells him this, but the guy standing on David's other side. Though David was quickly introduced to the guy yesterday as he and Kris made their way back from the cafeteria to his cell, he has already forgotten the name. Carrico something, he thinks, but he could be mistaken. The guy is tall, and has longish blonde hair that is tied together in the back, and he looks kind of scruffy with a couple days worth of stubble. The slight under bite doesn't make him seem more appealing, David thinks. "We ain't liking the hacks in here," the guy continues, "and we ain't liking the punks who likes the hacks either."
David looks at the floor, even more perplexed than before. Was that even supposed to make sense?
Then the beeping noise returns for the third time, and the inmates break out of the line and all start to walk in the direction of the cafeteria. He automatically sticks close to Andy Skib, who completely ignores him. David is so lost in his own world that he feels the cold floor against his cheek before he even realizes that someone just tripped him.
"Oops," says a voice, laughing. David lifts his head to see one of the guys who had been snickering before. The guy glances down at David, practically leering, and David wishes that he had stayed in his cell today, because he has not even had breakfast yet and there is already someone picking on him? Then he remembers that Kris had actually predicted something like that to happen; had told David to be aware of his surroundings in here, to stick to those he could trust. The problem is David doesn't have anyone he can trust, not really, and apparently being friendly with guards isn't a good thing, which leaves him pretty much back at square one.
David places his hands on the floor and tries to push himself up to his knees, but a foot is placed on the small of his back, keeping him firmly attached to the floor. He tries to move, to squirm, but the foot just presses harder against his spine, and in the end he has to give up.
"Say sorry for walking into my mate here," says a new voice, and David turns his head to the other side and sees a slim guy who's so pale that even his eyelashes seem translucent under the kind of fluorescent light that the prison is using all over the place. David vaguely remembers Kris saying the guy's name was Colton or something like that, and also to steer clear from him - which yeah, too late for that. Whatever the guy's name is, he is definitely glaring at David as if David has wronged him somehow. He swallows and closes his eyes, worried for what might just happen here if he doesn't do as the guy says. He wonders why the heck none of the other inmates do anything about it or better yet, where in the world the guards have gone, because he could really use some help right about now.
Colton gets down on one knee and twists his fingers into David's hair, gripping it tightly and pulling until David's neck feels like it's about to break. "You've got a problem with your hearing, huh?" David tries to shake his head, but the fingers are wounded too tightly around his hair, so all he manages to do is let out a squeak of pain as his eyes starts to water.
"Let go of him," says a voice that David vaguely recognizes. Tiemann, he thinks, and when the person moves around and stands in front of them, David can see that true enough, it is Tiemann, if the tattoos on the hands and arms are anything to go by. There's another male standing with him, judging by the two pairs of legs next to each other, but David doesn't have time to consider who it might be when Colton slams his forehead down into the floor before releasing him. He cries out and curls together as his hands reach up to gently touch his aching forehead. There's no blood though, which is good, because he never was very good with blood, but oh, the pain is excruciating.
"How stupid are you Colton? For fucks sake. If you've got a problem, take it to the limbo room. Not out here in the open." Tiemann sounds angry, or maybe it's more like disappointed really, and that was so not what David had expected to hear at all. Limbo room? It almost sounds like Tiemann just said it was okay as long as it was… well, not here, for everyone to see. David shivers, and before he can stop himself, he lets out a whimper.
"Oh fuck me, he's precious," says the other guy, and squats down in from of David, strong fingers gripping his chin tightly, raising David's head until their eyes lock together. When David shivers this time around, it's not because he's in pain or scared, but because this guy looks so closely at him that it makes the hair on David's arms stand up. The other hand moves up to push back David's hair, fingers softly caressing the bruise that Colton has just given him. David winces, but the guy doesn't allow him to move his head away.
"You taking him?" asks a third voice, and David sees Andy Skib suddenly appearing behind the guy holding onto his chin. A second later, Kris appears next to Andy Skib and curls a hand around David's cellmate's arm. David's eyes return to the guy in front of him, and if he was the kind of person to swear, he would have sworn that he had never seen such intense eyes before. David doesn't swear, though that doesn't make it any less true.
"Oh fuck yeah, no question about that," the guy says and leans so close that David nearly falls in order to get away.
David sees Andy Skib nodding thoughtfully behind the guy, and Kris offers David a small smile, which David figures is supposed to be encouraging. His head still hurts too much to appreciate whatever it is he is supposed to be appreciating right now though.
"Right then. Colton, Hernandez, if you ever touch this boy again, you won't just have to answer to Cook, but to me as well. Got it?" David looks surprised up at Tiemann, and then returns his gaze to the guy who's still squatting in front of him. Wait, this is Cook? The guy that Johns had told him would be his best option? The guy that Kris had told him yesterday was a great guy? His eyes widen, surprised and nervous.
"Don't look so panicky darling, I'm not going to hurt you," says Cook, grinning widely as he reaches out to pet David's hair. It seems oddly demeaning, but David doesn't dare to say anything, just closes his eyes as he feels strong fingers run through his hair. The fingers continue to dance lightly over his face, touching the bruise on the forehead before they continue down to tease his neck. Then it stops. David opens his eyes and sees Cook now standing, looking down at him, making David squirm under the heated gaze, smirking as if he likes seeing David being all uncomfortable.
"Come on David," says Kris, moving away from Andy Skib and holds out a hand for David to take. David glares at it for a few seconds, befuddled, but then reaches out to place his own hand in Kris', and pushes away with his feet in order to get up. He glances hesitantly at Cook out of the corner of his eyes, watching as Tiemann and Cook talk quietly about something. About him, David realizes when the two men look at him for a long moment before continuing their conversation.
"It'll be okay," promises Kris, and David hopes that it won't just be an empty promise; hopes that there is something to it, because he has got nothing else to lean on right now but hope.
~
Breakfast was surprisingly quiet. But after is when things start to get out of hand a bit. Having sat with his head down during the entire meal, David had managed to not see the looks that the other inmates had been sending their way, but they have barely stepped out of the cafeteria when everything goes kind of wrong.
Pale, slender fingers twist around the back of his neck, making David instinctively raise his shoulders to make it stop hurting. "Relax pet," whispers Cook, warm breath caressing David's cheek. "Just going to go back to my cell so we can show the others who you belong to."
Kris and Andy Skib walk past them and David tries to catch Kris' eyes, but the other inmate doesn't even look at him as they disappear into Kris' cell. David feels betrayed and wonders why nobody told him that something like this would happen. Or why Johns had made it sound like he had a choice in all of this, when really it's Cook who runs the show.
"Hurry the fuck up," hisses Tiemann, sounding impatient and angry, and Cook pushes David so hard that David nearly stumbles over his own feet. Cook chuckles behind him, and helps David stand properly again before pushing him along.
Then David is guided into Cook and Tiemann's cell, both guys following him into the tiny room. David has never felt claustrophobic before, but right now it feels as though the walls are about to swallow him whole.
"Why-" he tries to ask as Cook makes him sit on the bottom bed, but is interrupted by Cook cuffing him so hard on the side of his cheek that his ear starts to ring. He lifts his arm, trying to shield himself from more blows, but Cook is apparently satisfied with just one. David realizes that one is enough, because within a few seconds, his cheek starts to sting something terribly.
"Don't fucking talk unless spoken to! I told you yesterday," says Tiemann, arms crossed over his chest as he leans up against the wall a few feet from the bars. David looks at him, blushing under the gaze of the tattooed man, eyes welling slightly with tears, before returning his gaze to Cook who stands in front of him. Where Tiemann looks positively dangerous, Cook actually looks friendly. Well, kind of at least. David doesn't like the smirk or the way the eyes that wander up and down his body, but at least Cook doesn't talk that way to him. Yet, he reminds himself. If there is one thing David has learned, then it is that everyone can change in a split second. Even those you thought you could always count on can suddenly turn around and be someone else entirely. He knows from experience that something like that hurts an awful lot, all the way into your bones.
"Don't worry about Tiemann," says Cook, and reaches out to gently touch David's cheek (the one that stings a bit after the smack from before), and David winces but wills himself to sit still. Cook smiles, seemingly pleased with David's ability to sit still even when his gut tells him to get the heck out of there immediately.
"You want to be my boy, right?" asks the inmate, and David's eyes lower to the floor before closing. He'd prefer to not be anyone's boy in here, but his conversation with Kris the day before looms at the back of his mind.
"In here it's safer for guys like, well, us, to… find someone, and let them take care of you," Kris had said and offered David a soft and kind smile. David had looked at the other inmate confused, not really understanding what he had meant with 'guys like us'. Before he gotten a chance to ask, Kris who had obviously noticed his confusion and had continued a few seconds later, "We aren't big or strong or powerful. And in here, power is everything. If you can't be powerful yourself, then you're as good as dead. Being with someone like Andy has protected me… and it's actually not all that bad. He's a good person and he cares. And I care about him too. And you can learn to care about someone too. Maybe even someone like Cook."
The conversation had continued, but that is this part of the conversation that practically haunts David, because deep down, he knows that Kris is right. David hasn't got what it takes to be someone powerful, doesn't have what it takes to become one of the strong ones. His little encounter with Colton and that Hernandez guy earlier is proof of that, and if they did something like that to him out in the open, then he doesn't want to know what someone could do to him in the limbo room, or whatever it was that Tiemann called it.
David lifts his head up, eyes still closed tightly as he tries to force the tears that loom behind his eyelids to go away. Cook's thumb moves across his cheek and lingers at his bottom lip, gently prying his lips apart. "I'll take care of you," Cook promises, and David wishes that he could believe the man. Nonetheless, he opens his eyes, ignoring the fact that they are still a bit wet, and then blinks one, two, three times.
"No," he whispers awkwardly against Cook's thumb, surprising himself. That was not what he meant to say at all. Cook stares at him, eyes narrowing into tiny slits.
"No?" he drawls, sounding angry.
"I-I don't want to," he finally manages to stammer out, already regretting it the moment the words leave his mouth. He had wanted to say yes, wanted to just give in so he could get whatever protection he might need, but something inside him made him turn down the offer. Stupid? Probably, he thinks, but it's done now. He considers taking back the words; considers to changing his answer to a 'yes'.
Cook leans back, his finger leaving David's lips as if burned, looking at David like he's five seconds away from hitting him. David sees the hand curling into a fist for a couple of seconds before unclenching the fist again.
"Get out," says Tiemann, uncrossing his arms slowly, stepping away from the wall.
David moves from the bed, legs buckling as he stands. He feels weird, as if the air is too light.
"Out," snarls Cook, and curls his fingers around David's upper arm, squeezing once before pushing him out of the cell. He stumbles and almost knocks his head against the bars, his breath leaving him as though he has been punched in the stomach.
He sees Kris standing not that far from the cell, eyes widening for a split second before turning blank. David doesn't know what to say to him, and Kris doesn't say anything either, just turns away, arms crossing over his chest, as David walks past him. He bows his head, walking fast to his own cell.
~
He's enters the cafeteria as one of the firsts for dinner. He glances warily at the empty steel tables, uncertain as to where he should sit. Part of him wants to go sit at the Cook's table, but he knows that it will probably not be accepted. Finally - after nearly being knocked over by some inmates who walk past him -he settles for a table near the guards, because if he remembers correctly, it had been empty the day before.
He watches as Cook, Andy Skib, Kris and Tiemann enter the room. He kind of wishes he had gotten a chance to talk with Andy Skib earlier, but his cellmate had never returned to the cell before lunch - which he had totally skipped, choosing to stay in his cell rather than go alone - and he had never seen Andy Skib after lunch either.
He silently begs for Kris to look his way, but Kris doesn't. Cook does though, however David kind of wishes that he hadn't, because Cook's cool, indifferent look just makes him feel uncomfortable.
He's halfway through his dinner when a shadow suddenly looms over the table. He looks up, paling as he sees a big guy standing there, looking none too pleased with David sitting there. The guy puts down his tray angrily, the food nearly falling off the tray in the process.
"That's my table," he sneers, face red. David cowers, scared and somewhat embarrassed as he notices that they suddenly have everyone's attention.
"Um," he offers, his fingers gripping the edges of his own tray, quickly getting up, "sorry, I didn-" He swallows, taking a deep breath, "I didn't know that this table was taken. Sorry."
The guy doesn't look like he believes David, and David swiftly steps back, eyes big and wide. "I honestly didn't know."
"Get lost kid," sneers the inmate, and takes the seat that David had just gotten up from. The guy looks over his shoulder, then at David's tray. "And that's mine too," he says haughtily, tattooed fingers swiftly sweeping David's cup of pudding from the tray.
David leaves the room, head bowed in shame, ignoring Johns as he walks past the guard. He doesn't need to see Johns' look to know what it will look like. He should have accepted Cook's proposal - should have just said yes - and then none of this would have happened.
He spends the rest of the evening in his cell, already in bed and ready for the night when Andy Skib returns seconds before the bell rings. He looks at his cellmate, almost pleadingly, hoping to get some kind of advice, but Andy Skib ignores him completely.
"I don't-" he whispers, but Andy Skib just goes about his routine, brushing his teeth and peeing before crawling into his bed. The light goes out a couple of minutes after that and David lies awake for almost three hours, just watching the darkness as he tries to collect his thoughts.
Stupid, he thinks, and clenches his fingers around the sheet. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he chants in his head, and turns onto his side, facing the wall.
His eyes are red and itching from the lack of sleep when he wakes up the next morning. Andy Skib is already dressed, sitting on his bed reading a book. David tries to see which book it is, but Andy Skib's hand is partially covering the title. He sighs, and walks over to the toilet in the corner, forcing himself to get ready.
He eats breakfast alone too, though at a different table, this one a bit closer to the guards than the one from last night. He hurries through his food, almost choking on it, desperate to get out of the cafeteria and go back to his cell. Once his plate is clear and his juice is gone, he sits there for a second, taking in the other inmates around him. They are all talking, and David has never felt more alone than right now.
He sees Cook and the others walking past him, Kris walking a bit behind them. Without even thinking about it, he grabs unto Kris' wrist as the other inmate walks past him.
"Kris," he tries. Kris stares at him, then at David's hand.
"Sorry," is all Kris says, before pulling his arm back, and then Kris is walking away. David follows the southern inmate with his eyes for as long as he can.
"This is my table," says the guy from last night. David turns and looks, surprised.
"Um," he says. "But this is a different table," he dares to add, looking up from underneath his eyelashes to look at the guy.
"Are you calling me a liar?" hisses the inmate, leaning down over David, trapping him in his seat.
"No, I just, no, sorry, I didn't mean to," he hurries to say, his breath quickening.
"Sounded like it," whispers the guy, and then quickly proceeds to push David's face down to the table, pressing his cheek against the cold surface of the steel table. It hurts terribly, and he can feel tears forming in the corner of his eyes, the catcalls and whistles coming from the other inmates only making it even more humiliating.
"Hey, none of that Smith. Release him now," says a guard, and David doesn't have to see who it is to know that it's Johns. The inmate, Smith, presses his hand even harder against David's cheek before finally releasing him and stepping back as if he hadn't touched David at all.
"Do it again, and I'll have to throw you in isolation. You know the rules," says Johns.
"I hardly even touched him," laughs Smith, and walks away.
"Archuleta," says Johns, and it's not until his name is said that he realizes that he's still lying with his face pressed against the table. "Go get cleaned up," tells Johns, and David nods.
He doesn't go to his cell, but rather heads straight to Cook and Tiemann's cell. He sees the two in there, and stops just as he reaches the bars.
"Okay," he says, quietly, voice barely audible. Cook looks over his shoulder, and when he sees that it's David standing there, he gets up from the bed. David chances a quick glance at Tiemann, who looks weirdly at him. Then Tiemann nods, arms uncrossing slowly. David watches the tattoos, and unconsciously licks his lips, before returning his gaze to Cook.
"Come in," says Cook, grinning. David enters the cell, head bowed and cheeks burning with shame. He stops in front of Cook, flinching when Cook raises a hand. He doesn't strike David though, just presses his thumb against his lips like he had done the day before. He licks his lips again, his tongue touching the tip of Cook's finger.
"Oh fuck yeah," hisses Cook, and presses the thumb further into David's mouth. David stares up at Cook with wide eyes, but Cook isn't even looking at him but at Tiemann who stands there in the middle of the cell opening, looking at the two of them.
"I'm going to go talk with Skib," Tiemann informs them suddenly, and before David has a chance to think about what this means, he and Cook are alone in the cell.
"I don't-" he starts to say around the thumb, but then remembers that Cook hasn't allowed him to talk. He swallows the rest of the sentence and briefly wonders how he'll be able to do this. Cook's head tilts slightly to the side as he looks inquiringly at David, and then the thumb is removed from his mouth. Cook traces the now wet digit across his cheek, marking him with his own saliva, until he reaches David's short dark hair.
"You don't what?" asks Cook, grinning smugly.
"I've never-I don't know-I can't," he finally ends up saying, ashamed and near panicking.
"But you're going to," states Cook as he twists his fingers into David's dark strands of hair, leaving no room for arguing. Cook tugs at the ends a bit, making David's scalp prickle and ache, and David knows that he doesn't stand a chance. Cook is his only chance for survival in here, even though it pains him to admit it. .
~
David can barely force anything down at lunch, his throat achy and his stomach churning at the sight of food. The fact that Cook has placed a possessive hand at the back of his neck doesn't help either. He can hear the other inmates talking around them, and there are even a few who come over to the table to talk to Cook and Tiemann. David ignores them though, and barely hears what they say as he continues to stare dizzily at the food, his entire face burning with humiliation.
"Why's Carrico giving you the red eye?" asks Tiemann, but David has no idea who Carrico is and he can't find himself to even care right now.
"He saw your boy being friendly with a hack yesterday morning," answers Andy Skib, eyes on David.
Cook pinches David's neck, and this makes him look up. "Who?" asks Cook, the question clearly for Andy Skib even though he's looking at David who finds himself cowering under the hard stare.
"Johns."
"You friends with Johns?" This time the question is for David, though the tone is indifferent, so he can't tell if it's a good or a bad thing. He considers it, not entirely sure if he can call Johns a friend. True, the guard had been friendly and offered David advice when he could have just let him walk into this blindly, but still, friends? Not really, no.
"He took me aside when I arrived," David tries to explain. "He told me…" he looks at Cook for a few seconds before looking back down at his food. Cook squeezes his neck again, this time a bit gentler than before. "He said to accept your offer. Said you'd come for me." The words are no louder than a whisper, and he wonders if Cook even heard him at all. Except then Cook ruffles his hair, and for the first time since they sat down at the table, the older man lets go of David completely.
"Guess he deserves a big birthday gift this year then," laughs Cook, and David looks up to see Andy Skib and Kris smiling, and even Tiemann's lips twitches a bit, though it never turns into a real smile. David exhales soundly, bewildered and truth be told, a bit disgruntled.
"Johns is a friend," explains Cook, winking amusedly. David can't see what's so amusing, because oh gosh, he had really thought that he would be beaten or something worse for exchanging smiles with a guard. Heck, even Andy Skib had elbowed him, hard, on the shoulder, which kind of still hurts a little. He hasn't looked, but he's sure that he's gotten a bruise.
"Johns is a friend," says Tiemann, breaking the laughter. "Though that doesn't mean a punk like you should be smiling to the hacks or whatever it was you did. People will think you are like Noriega over there," he says, pointing at a skinny dark-haired boy sitting close to the guards. David looks at the boy, wondering what is so bad about Noriega.
"He likes guards. Gives him the kind of protection he needs in here, if you know what I mean," Cook tells him, and David just continues to stare blankly at the boy. "He's Yeager's fuckboy," Cook adds, and David winces at the crude remark, finally looking away from Noriega. "He spreads his legs for Yeager who in return gives him certain privileges."
David bows his head, feeling sorry for Noriega, but mostly for himself if he has to be completely honest. When they get up from the table, his food is barely touched. They move across the cafeteria, and the closer they get to the guards standing up against the walls, the faster David wants to go. Johns had been nice to him, but apparently there had been more to it.
"Thanks man, I owe you," Cook grins as they walk past Johns, the other inmate's hand back on his shoulder to keep him close. Johns laughs in return, and David feels like a fool.
"Thought he was your type," says Johns and shrugs casually before winking at Cook. David is positive that if they stand here any longer, he is going to do something stupid, like, well, get angry or throw up. Thankfully they move before something like that happens, walking into the hall that is filled with inmates. They don't stop to talk though, but rather continue to walk to one of the cells. It's his own and Andy Skib's cell, he realizes as he is being pushed into it. He sees Andy Skib's pictures hanging on the wall.
Five people standing in a cell this small is difficult, and David almost offers to leave just so he can find somewhere he can be alone and maybe, possibly scream until his lungs hurt (or cry, seeing as his throat is still sore from earlier). But then he blushes, because thinking of his sore throat makes him think of what he had been doing with Cook before lunch.
"Up," says Cook, and before David has a chance to react, strong hands are gripping his waist and lifting him up as if he weighs nothing. He is placed on Andy Skib's bunk, and he shifts uncomfortably on the white sheet. Kris joins him on the bunk, and Tiemann moves a bit to the side until he is standing in the doorway of the cell, fingers curled around the steel bars. David looks curiously at Tiemann for a few silent moments before Cook starts to talk.
"Have you heard from Andrew?"
"Nothing yet," says Andy Skib.
David looks sideways at Kris, trying to make sense of what's happening, but Kris doesn't even look to be paying attention. Andy Skib reaches out and runs his hands up and down Kris' thighs, and David shifts again, quickly looking at the ceiling. He hears Kris sigh and sees Andy Skib out of the corner of his eye lean closer to Kris, whispering something in the other inmate's ear that makes Kris chuckle. Then the chuckle is followed by another chuckle, which is then replaced with a low moan that has an almost animalistic edge to it.
He wishes he could just disappear, and he is literally five seconds from jumping off the bunk when Cook touches his knee almost affectionately, startling him out of his thoughts. Oh my heck, is all David can think, as Cook moves to stand between his legs, shoulders pushing his legs further apart.
"Stop being so fucking skittish," says Cook sternly, "or I'll give you a reason to be jumpy all the goddamn time."
He nods absently, eyes straying to Cook's face for a split second before looking at a spot on the wall behind the man.
"Sorry," he tries, but is cut off by Cook who grabs his neck and pulls him down until their lips crash together. David has never really kissed anyone before, so he just sits there with eyes wide open as he gazes into Cook's eyes. He can feel Cook's tongue running over his lips, and the sensation surprises him so much that he gasps, his mouth opening slightly. Cook wastes no time before pushing his tongue in and the grip on his neck tightens painfully. He can feel the velvety tongue against his own, and it feels odd, but not entirely unpleasant, he thinks. He tentatively tries to make his own tongue move and a peculiar sense of satisfaction swells in his stomach when Cook groans.
They are interrupted by a beeping sound, and when they pull apart, David (accidentally) leans forward to follow Cook's lips, a desperate whine leaving him before he notices it. Thankfully Cook still stands there, ready to push him back before he makes an ass of himself by falling off the bed. Though the smug smile that he gets makes him blush so hard that even his ears burn.
"Yard time," says Kris, sounding awfully cheerful, too cheerful in David's opinion. David tries to smile, but for some reason he can't look away from Cook who just smirks at him. He hears Kris get down from the bed, and he hears Andy Skib telling Cook they will wait outside for them, but all he sees is the way Cook's head tilts to the side as he gazes intently at David.
"Um, cool," says David, but Kris and Andy Skib are already long gone. Tiemann too, apparently, though David has no idea when the tattooed man had left.
"Fucking precious," whispers Cook, more to himself than to David, or at least that's what it sounds like. David blushes and looks at Cook's red lips, catching his own lower lip between his teeth as he worries it, uncertain how to react to all of this. Then Cook lifts his hands, gently placing them on each side of David's face as he brings them closer together again.
"Oh," says David meekly when he can practically feel the heat from Cook's lips. They kiss again, long and slow and oh my gosh, David is sure that if he doesn't get air soon he might just faint, which would be incredible embarrassing. But then they break apart, Cook panting harshly and David gasping for air.
"Yard time," says Cook, and helps David down from the bed.
~
continue
masterpost | part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi