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wl_fanfictionDon’t Stand So Close to Me
For: Sungreen70
Rated: R for the ever present potty language
Pairing: Ry/Col kissy face!
Summary: Ryan entertains a notion of 'maybe' and strikes a deal
Disclaimer: Still ownin’ naught but jack poo
Chapter 3
Colin was hurting. Every step he took seemed to accentuate sore muscles, showing him where exactly he was bruised from countless falls, a few kicks, and the strain of exercising before each and every self defense lesson. Wayne took his job very, very seriously. So much so that Colin’s first day Wayne had him try to attack, to land a punch. Colin failed miserably, but the others in the class said he’d gotten closer than they had the first time before Wayne laid him flat with a thud.
The class had only a few people in it, Wayne, Greg, Colin of course, Mrs. Lawrence (call me Josie) and her husband Mike McShane, a large jolly looking fellow who made one very uneasy if he looked at you for too long. Together, they worked the History and Foreign Languages Dept.
Greg and Colin paired up to spar against one another. At first Greg went easy on him, but when Colin landed a punch on his chest pad and sat him on his ass, to Wayne’s utter delight, Greg ramped it up a bit until he was straddling Colin and pinning his wrists above his head. For a split second as Colin looked up at Greg, something passed through Greg’s eyes that made him suddenly shy. Then Wayne had blown his whistle, signaling the end of today’s lesson.
“Hey Mochrie, you still in there or are we gonna have to set fire to your desk to get some attention?” one boy called out, interrupting Colin’s daydream that was having a pleasant buzzing effect on his groin.
“No Sherwood that won’t be necessary,” he sighed, smacking his computer to make it stop it’s weird squealing noise.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”
“How much I want some music in this place,” he glanced around.
Another boy snorted and shoved thick black glasses back up his nose. “We know what you mean.” Carey, Colin remembered his name was. “This place is so damn dull even Toccata and Fugue would lighten it up.”
Colin laughed, making Drew flush with pleasure. Then he noticed everyone was staring at him and he blushed harder. “Too true, Carey, but I don’t think that Toccata and Fugue would help you to win friends and influence people.”
“Probably get me stabbed,” he grinned. A few of the boys laughed.
“What kind of music do you like Mochrie?” the Stiles boy asked quietly. Their eyes locked over the heads of the other students and the room suddenly hushed.
Colin smiled quietly, not looking away from the bright green eyes that regarded his every move in a practiced, calculating glance.
Ryan would probably never admit it but that smile struck him right across the face. No one had looked at him like that, not for a long time. Like he was human and worthy of a warm smile.
“Oh a bit of this, a bit of that-”
“What kind of music?” Sherwood asked again.
Colin cocked his head to the side. “Well, Oingo Boingo, Paul Simon, Liquid Jesus, Rush, Barenaked Ladies-”
“Hell, who doesn’t like those?” Drew blurted. The class laughed again. Even Colin chuckled.
“A lot of Canadian bands in there,” Ryan remarked.
“Born and raised,” Colin raised his hand. “Though I do like Frank Sinatra, White Snake, The Police, The Who-”
“Oh dude I friggen love the Who!” young Jeff Davis piped up enthusiastically. “Especially My Generation!”
“Dude, everyone likes My Generation,” Brad said disparagingly.
“It’s a good song!”
“So is Pinball Wizard.”
“Nah, that’s gay-” Jeff sniffed.
“Is not you fairy! Don’t dis Pinball Wizard!” Brad rose threateningly.
This was rising rapidly out of control. Colin cast his mind about for a defusing interruption. “You know the Who is quite good in concert,” Colin said lightly, making sure his voice carried.
Jeff and Brad stared at him. “Wait what?”
“You’ve seen the Who in concert?” Drew asked excitedly.
“Mhmm, they were quite good.”
Brad and Jeff glanced at one another, confused now that no one was paying them any attention. It was hard to start something when no one cared.
“As a matter of fact, John Entwistle was still alive,” Colin scratched his chin thoughtfully.
“Dude…” Everyone was hushed for a second in memory of that most awesome base player.
“That must have been so fuckin’ cool,” Jeff said reverently.
“It was. Especially when Pete Townshend played so hard his fingers bled.”
“No way!”
“Yeah. He’d wipe his hand on the back pocket of his pants and every time he turned around you’d see this massive blood smear.” Colin grimaced slightly.
“Awesome!” the guys chorused.
“Mhmm… So. Did you guys actually finish your work?” he asked. They all groaned.
“Man we were getting’ somewhere and you have to go right back to the stupid work,” Brad shook his head.
“I am your teacher,” Colin said indignantly.
“Yeah but it looked like you were actually gonna be cool then you go back to the work!”
“Well, seeing as how I’m a hip groovy guy-”
A couple people snorted.
“I’ll bring in something to play music on, I’ll do requests, and you guys do your work. Sound good?”
“Hell yeah!”
“Great.” The bell rang. “Now scurry off, leave your papers here and if I find another penis drawing I’ll dock points!” he shouted at the scurrying mass.
After they were all gone he heaved to his feet, leaning heavily against the desk before moving tenderly among the desks picking up papers. Some had their work done, others had drawings of female organs instead. Pitiful drawings, too. He doubted some of the boys had ever seen a woman naked judging from the doodles.
As he neared the last desk a soft throat clearing drifted to his ears. He turned to find the Stiles boy leaning against the doorframe. “Can I help you?” Colin asked, feeling a little wary but smiling nonetheless.
“Can I help you?” Mochrie asked. Ryan saw that smile directed at him again and almost smiled back. Instead he set his mouth in a thin line and came in, standing a respectful five feet away from his teacher.
“Mr. Mochrie, I was wondering something.”
“Yes?”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing being nice to us?” Ryan demanded.
Mochrie just blinked at him, frowning slightly. “What? I’m afraid I don’t-”
“You’re being nice to them, to us,” he amended. “We have so damn little here already, why are you promising us shit you won’t deliver. Music? I haven’t heard music in so damn long I forget how Twinkle Twinkle Little Star goes.”
“I promised them music Mr. Stiles,” Mochrie was beginning to show signs of anger, making his big brown eyes start to glow. “I do not reneg on a promise as long as they don’t reneg on theirs.”
“Bullshit. We’ll never be good enough for you to waste a little thing like music on. Frost did it, Slattery did it, they all lied to us. Hell, you might as well promise us our freedom,” Ryan growled.
Mochrie squared his shoulders. “I. Don’t. Do. That.” he grated, cheeks flushing. “I believe you boys have a chance at a real life outside these bars, I don’t think you’re a waste of time, and if music is what it takes to help you further your education then dammit I’m going to bring you music!” he finished, eyes flashing, drawing up to his full height.
Ryan stared at him. The man… he was… beautiful. “You’re willing to stand up for us? To help us?”
Mochrie stepped closer, invading the safe five feet. “You’re damn right I am.” He scowled up at Ryan.
Ryan felt his pulse race as Mochrie drew closer. The man was very brave, or very stupid. Ryan was betting the first. Up close, his eyes were no longer just brown but the color of chocolate, rich and full of inner strength that took Ryan’s breath away. Ryan couldn’t think of any words to thank him, because sometimes words are so damn cheap. He leaned down and pressed his lips against Mochrie’s gently, hands laced behind his back.
Mochrie was everything he wasn’t in that kiss. Soft, tender, full of compassion… and for a second Ryan wished he wasn’t here, that they’d met in another lifetime where they could be together for real.
Colin’s lips were pressed together tightly, and for a second he didn’t know what else to do. Then he let himself feel the Stiles boy… Ryan… his name was Ryan.
Soft lips, slightly chapped, moving slowly in a light question. Colin jumped when Ryan’s tongue traced his lower lip, begging for entrance. Colin complied with a soft sigh that Ryan groaned to, letting the boy’s tongue dip into his mouth before his own danced to meet him. He tasted kind of like rain, clear and cool. Colin leaned into him, hands steadying himself on the taller boy’s chest, feeling the racing heart underneath his palm. That racing heart was what snapped him back into his senses. He backed away, lips buzzing and swollen as they parted from Ryan’s.
Ryan followed his lips for a second, eyes still closed, arms shaking with the effort to not crush the smaller man to him and let his hands roam his body. Ryan blinked down at him. “Why’d you stop?”
“Because,” Colin spoke so quietly he had to try again so Ryan could hear him. “Because… I’m a teacher, you’re a student and…” he really didn’t want to finish that sentence.
Ryan’s gaze hardened. “And I’m a prisoner, a dangerous criminal not to be trusted.” Colin looked away, chewing on his lip. Ryan almost forgot he was angry, wanting only to suck on that tempting lip and maybe more. “Fine.” He backed away. “I’ll see you tomorrow Mochrie.” He shut the door with a slam.
Colin sat down on the edge of a desk, papers resting crumpled beside him. He traced trembling fingers along his lips. They still burned with Ryan’s kiss.
“It’s Colin,” he whispered to the empty classroom.
Colin brought a turntable in, despite all that had happened, playing old Who records blended with B52’s hits, the Doors, and anything else the guys wanted to hear. At first they razzed him about the antique he was using, but when he played his old Pink Floyd record The Dark Side of the Moon, it was deemed ‘okay’.
----
“Ryan!”
Ryan spun like a cat to face the guy who was running up to meet him. It was the new meat who’d ratted on him.
“What the fuck do you want Charles?”
The kid looked terrified. “Um n-nothing Ryan, um, I was just coming over to say sorry about-”
“Yeah?” Ryan loomed over him. He was in a real bitch of a mood since he’d left Mochrie’s room. The damn man was haunting him with his taste, touch, his smell… his smell… he smelled like sandalwood. Ryan blinked to find that Charles had been staring at him while his mind wandered. His black mood revved back up. “Sorry about what? Tattling on me?”
“It wasn’t me!” Charles squeaked.
“Whatever kid,” Ryan sniffed, grabbing his collar and lifting him effortlessly off the ground.
“It was that English kid, he made me squeal!”
Ryan fist was cocked back when he hesitated. “What English kid?”
“The one with the curly hair… J-John?”
Ryan suddenly let go of his collar, dropping him from three inches in the air. “John made you squeal on me? What for?”
“I dunno, he was talking to those friends of his, Bremner and uh… uh… Fry. Yeah that was it. Said he didn’t want to get his hands dirty or something.”
Ryan snorted. “Yeah sounds like John. Mr. Big Stuff himself,” he glanced down at the kid. “Grow a backbone kid.”
The kid deflated slightly. “Yes sir,” he stared at the floor.
Ryan growled. He should have ‘Sucker’ printed in block letters on his forehead. “Fine, you can hang with my group for a while ‘til you’ve got the place,” he muttered.
Charles’ eyes lit up. “Thanks Ryan,” he grinned.,
“Fine, whatever,” Ryan scowled, walking away without bothering to turn back and see if Shorty was following him. He was anyway. “Let’s go catch a smoke Charles, let the guys know you’re with us.”
“Okay. By the way, you can call me Chip. Charles sounds too snotty for my taste.”
Ryan glanced back at him.
“Charles is fine, too,” he said meekly.
Ryan gave him a fierce grin that was more of a snarl. “Chip it is.”
Out in their section of the yard, Ryan’s group was sitting and shivering in the autumn chill, waiting impatiently for their supplier to get his tall, skinny ass over there.
“It’s about damn time!” Brad huffed, taking the offered cigarette and lighting it with shaking fingers. “We were about to send Drew in after you!”
“Relax, I always come through,” Ryan rumbled, passing out the cigarettes. “Guys, this is Chip, he’s with us for a while.”
“Hey Chip,” they all mumbled.
Jeff however cocked his head at the new guy. “Hey aren’t you the guy who squealed on Ryan?”
“John forced him to,” Ryan said.
“Who told you that?”
“He did,” Ryan jerked his thumb at Chip. All eyes turned to stare at him, and he paled at their sudden intense scrutiny and distrust. “Relax, I believe him,” Ryan said, and like that, the hostility went back in its drawer. Chip was instantly grateful to have the tall boy’s voucher. All of them went back to contemplating the reasons behind John’s motives, except Jeff, who slid off the bench and sauntered over to Chip.
“You’re kinda cute,” he said suddenly, taking a drag on his cigarette, watching Chip’s stunned reaction from behind the swirls of smoke.
“Uh… thank you?”
“What’s your swing?”
“What?”
“Which way do you swing?” Brad spoke up, watching them both with amused eyes. Everyone was watching, as a matter of fact. “Boys, girls, or both?”
“Uh… well… I don’t know,” he stuttered, “I never really… um… you know… did it… with either,” he finished lamely. They stared at him.
“Oh, we gotta take care of that,” Jeff grinned, moving behind him and wrapping warm arms around his shoulders. Chip felt a little warmer but was still as unnerved as hell. “You’re gonna lo-ove boys when you get outta here,” he purred, hot breath caressing the shorter boy’s ear. Chip shivered.
“You guys gonna fuck out here?” Ryan asked.
“Nope, but we’ll find somewhere nice and cozy,” Jeff grinned.
“I’m not sure I want to-”
“Oh you will, and believe me, I’m the lesser evil than some of the other guys out there who wouldn’t mind sticking their dick in such a nice country boy ass like yours. And you would not enjoy their attentions,” his face darkened. “Unlike myself, they won’t care how loud you scream.”
Chip turned around, looking up at his face. “Did they hurt you?”
Everyone else looked away. They knew how Jeff’s first week had gone. He was new, naive, and beautiful. Several guys took care of the first two before Ryan and Brad could offer him their protection. “Yes.” Jeff’s eyes were blazing with hatred at past horrors, at himself for being so weak, and the boys who had done it. The boys who had gotten out before he could get revenge.
Chip blinked up at him before snuggling under his chin, curling into the warmth of Jeff’s arms, wrapping his arms around the tall, slim boy’s chest and pulling him tighter, comforting him for reasons he could not name. Jeff blinked, unsure for a moment of what to do in the face of such tenderness before an overwhelming need to protect and cherish the smaller boy in his arms overcame everything. Jeff buried his nose in the soft hair behind Chip’s ear, savoring his scent and his warmth.
The other boys looked on, watching with curiosity, a small smile, and a hint of jealousy in their eyes as they studied the pair before them.
Ryan let his mind wander as his eyes settled on the embracing pair. They made a nice couple. He missed that in the real world, though in his line you rarely came across it. But every now and then, you’d find someone just… perfect. Immediate attraction, lots of stuff in common, good sense of humour, long legs, flat stomach, glossy if thinning blonde hair, deep brown eyes that you could lose yourself in happily…
Ryan realized he was thinking of Mochrie.
He wondered for a second if the man really was playing him, was playing them all. But he’d denied it so fervently, and no teacher he’d ever known would have wasted so much energy in acting the innocent when they could just as well laugh in his face. No, Mochrie seemed to be telling the truth, though he also seemed to throw Ryan’s normally sharp ability to sniff out the truth all to Hell.
The man was damn hard to read.
But he treated Ryan and the rest of the students with class, and borderline respect as long as they didn’t pull stupid shit around him. Brave little fucker, too. Ryan smirked around his cigarette, leaning back comfortably against the seat behind him and stretching out his long legs on the seats in front. Invading the five-foot safety space of a felon, then letting Ryan kiss him. Ryan let his mind remember the kiss in every detail imaginable, feeling a wash of warmth flood his system.
Brad poked his arm. “Hey Ry,” his voice was thick with amusement. Ryan looked over to see the others giggling or grinning like fools. “You thinking about your mother or something?” He pointed at Ryan’s crotch. Ryan frowned at him before looking down. His jeans were straining over his sizable hardon.
He smirked lazily. “Nope, just remembering your sister.”
Brad made an amused outraged noise, leaping for him when Drew grabbed both of their shoulders, bringing the festivities to a halt.
“Here comes the Mooch,” he said, glaring across the courtyard at some approaching figures. “And oh look, he’s brought friends,” he grinned unpleasantly.
John made his way towards them followed by less than half of his usual entourage.
“Wonder how much he paid off Patterson to let him out here with us,” Jeff wondered idly, leading Chip up to the top seats on the stand to sit with him, away from where the action might be.
The other rumbled agreement at the blatant acknowledgement of Patterson’s dealings with John. They just didn’t know what.
“Nobody says anything with out my say so, got it?” Ryan growled quietly. Everyone nodded, settling back down, looking like a pride of lions watching a small heard of zebra stroll up to them.
“Stiles,” John nodded respectfully to him.
“Sessions,” Ryan nodded back.
“Care to share a fag?” Sessions asked, holding up a Zippo. Ryan offered him a cigarette, extending only a long arm and making the boy come to him, to separate from his herd. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
Ryan nodded but said nothing until Sessions had lit up and taken a drag. “What do you want Sessions?”
The small man studied his cigarette coal. “I have a business proposition for you,” he said lightly.
Ryan settled back, grinning. “Oh really?”
“Indeed, however, I will not divulge information in front of witnesses should you say no to my offer.”
“They’ll hear about it anyway.”
Sessions shrugged, “Nevertheless, second hand information is not admissible in court.”
Ryan’s eyebrows raised while his eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to get a life sentence in real prison John,” his voice was quiet and very, very dangerous.
Sessions nodded. “Hear me out Stiles, that’s all you have to do.”
Ryan cocked his head. “Fine, but your boys stay here, too.”
Sessions glanced behind him. “You heard the man,” he sniffed. Rory and Stephen went down to the far end of the stands, their faces saying eloquently what they thought of this, and settled down, grumbling and muttering to themselves.
Ryan and John walked to the far end of the courtyard, making sure they were still in full view of both their groups and the guards in their towers. “Stiles, I’m sure you’re aware of the smuggling going on throughout this complex.” John waved his hand at the school and facility. Ryan nodded. “You yourself have become quite the man to come to for much needed oddities from the outside world,” he grinned.
Ryan wrinkled his nose down at the smaller man who barely reached his chest. “Yeah, what of it?”
“You have quite the client base, you know, as well as the ear of the Warden.”
Ryan knew that was not true but didn’t dispute it. His heart was buzzing in his chest. This is what he was here for after all.
“I want you to join forces with me, help us smuggle more… profitable items than make up and panty hose.” John tapped his cigarette, scattering ashes.
“Profitable items?”
“Oh… this and that.”
“I won’t do shit for you unless I know what I’ll be smuggling,” Ryan smirked.
John glared up at him, head cocked to one side so he didn’t have to crane his neck. “Fine you nincompoop,” he growled, making Ryan’s fierce grin grow even wider. “We have small shipments of cocaine and methamphetmine coming in. Prime stuff that the boys here pay high prices for, and my regular channels met with… unfortunate accidents.”
Ryan was hard put to control his excitement at this revelation. “Okay, what do you want me to do about that?”
“I want you to get it in. You’ve never been caught.”
“Yeah actually I did,” Ryan growled, “you made sure of that.”
John’s eyes widened. “Me? Why would I do that?”
“Oh I dunno, to make it so I have one more strike before the Warden has to ship me to a maximum security facility. Be a great way to get rid of me,” Ryan snarled.
From the flush of color on John’s cheeks, he knew he had pinned it just right.
“What about the guards?” Ryan asked.
John blinked at the sudden change of subject but continued, watching Ryan even closer. “We own them all. With one we have a… arrangement so he keeps himself and one other in line. And the other two heads, we have some rather incriminating pictures of them that would be detrimental to their wives and their marriages,” John looked pleased with himself.
Ryan wanted to press the issue, to find out who was being used, who was being paid off and the lot, but if he pressed too hard, Sessions would clam up. And that would ruin everything. He toyed with the idea of hanging him by his shirt collar on the fence and using him as a punching bag before he let it go. He’d get the little fuck in the end. “Fine, I want Forty-two percent of the take.”
“Forty-two percent?!” John exploded, pallid face thinning with rage.
“You don’t want to get caught, you gotta pay,” Ryan said smoothly.
John seemed to turn several shades of angry before he made a noise like a teakettle venting steam out. “Fine. Fine… forty-two… percent it is.” He held out his hand.
Ryan regarded it for a moment before shaking it, his hand completely engulfing the smaller boy’s sweaty one.
The deal was done.
John turned on his heel and marched away, his cronies hurrying after him until they were all out of the yard.
Once Ryan got back to the stands, everyone was looking questions at him and glaring daggers after John’s disappearing back. “What was that about?” Brad asked.
Ryan told them, all the while wiping his hands on his jeans.
For: Sungreen70
Rated: R for the ever present potty language
Pairing: Ry/Col kissy face!
Summary: Ryan entertains a notion of 'maybe' and strikes a deal
Disclaimer: Still ownin’ naught but jack poo
Chapter 3
Colin was hurting. Every step he took seemed to accentuate sore muscles, showing him where exactly he was bruised from countless falls, a few kicks, and the strain of exercising before each and every self defense lesson. Wayne took his job very, very seriously. So much so that Colin’s first day Wayne had him try to attack, to land a punch. Colin failed miserably, but the others in the class said he’d gotten closer than they had the first time before Wayne laid him flat with a thud.
The class had only a few people in it, Wayne, Greg, Colin of course, Mrs. Lawrence (call me Josie) and her husband Mike McShane, a large jolly looking fellow who made one very uneasy if he looked at you for too long. Together, they worked the History and Foreign Languages Dept.
Greg and Colin paired up to spar against one another. At first Greg went easy on him, but when Colin landed a punch on his chest pad and sat him on his ass, to Wayne’s utter delight, Greg ramped it up a bit until he was straddling Colin and pinning his wrists above his head. For a split second as Colin looked up at Greg, something passed through Greg’s eyes that made him suddenly shy. Then Wayne had blown his whistle, signaling the end of today’s lesson.
“Hey Mochrie, you still in there or are we gonna have to set fire to your desk to get some attention?” one boy called out, interrupting Colin’s daydream that was having a pleasant buzzing effect on his groin.
“No Sherwood that won’t be necessary,” he sighed, smacking his computer to make it stop it’s weird squealing noise.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”
“How much I want some music in this place,” he glanced around.
Another boy snorted and shoved thick black glasses back up his nose. “We know what you mean.” Carey, Colin remembered his name was. “This place is so damn dull even Toccata and Fugue would lighten it up.”
Colin laughed, making Drew flush with pleasure. Then he noticed everyone was staring at him and he blushed harder. “Too true, Carey, but I don’t think that Toccata and Fugue would help you to win friends and influence people.”
“Probably get me stabbed,” he grinned. A few of the boys laughed.
“What kind of music do you like Mochrie?” the Stiles boy asked quietly. Their eyes locked over the heads of the other students and the room suddenly hushed.
Colin smiled quietly, not looking away from the bright green eyes that regarded his every move in a practiced, calculating glance.
Ryan would probably never admit it but that smile struck him right across the face. No one had looked at him like that, not for a long time. Like he was human and worthy of a warm smile.
“Oh a bit of this, a bit of that-”
“What kind of music?” Sherwood asked again.
Colin cocked his head to the side. “Well, Oingo Boingo, Paul Simon, Liquid Jesus, Rush, Barenaked Ladies-”
“Hell, who doesn’t like those?” Drew blurted. The class laughed again. Even Colin chuckled.
“A lot of Canadian bands in there,” Ryan remarked.
“Born and raised,” Colin raised his hand. “Though I do like Frank Sinatra, White Snake, The Police, The Who-”
“Oh dude I friggen love the Who!” young Jeff Davis piped up enthusiastically. “Especially My Generation!”
“Dude, everyone likes My Generation,” Brad said disparagingly.
“It’s a good song!”
“So is Pinball Wizard.”
“Nah, that’s gay-” Jeff sniffed.
“Is not you fairy! Don’t dis Pinball Wizard!” Brad rose threateningly.
This was rising rapidly out of control. Colin cast his mind about for a defusing interruption. “You know the Who is quite good in concert,” Colin said lightly, making sure his voice carried.
Jeff and Brad stared at him. “Wait what?”
“You’ve seen the Who in concert?” Drew asked excitedly.
“Mhmm, they were quite good.”
Brad and Jeff glanced at one another, confused now that no one was paying them any attention. It was hard to start something when no one cared.
“As a matter of fact, John Entwistle was still alive,” Colin scratched his chin thoughtfully.
“Dude…” Everyone was hushed for a second in memory of that most awesome base player.
“That must have been so fuckin’ cool,” Jeff said reverently.
“It was. Especially when Pete Townshend played so hard his fingers bled.”
“No way!”
“Yeah. He’d wipe his hand on the back pocket of his pants and every time he turned around you’d see this massive blood smear.” Colin grimaced slightly.
“Awesome!” the guys chorused.
“Mhmm… So. Did you guys actually finish your work?” he asked. They all groaned.
“Man we were getting’ somewhere and you have to go right back to the stupid work,” Brad shook his head.
“I am your teacher,” Colin said indignantly.
“Yeah but it looked like you were actually gonna be cool then you go back to the work!”
“Well, seeing as how I’m a hip groovy guy-”
A couple people snorted.
“I’ll bring in something to play music on, I’ll do requests, and you guys do your work. Sound good?”
“Hell yeah!”
“Great.” The bell rang. “Now scurry off, leave your papers here and if I find another penis drawing I’ll dock points!” he shouted at the scurrying mass.
After they were all gone he heaved to his feet, leaning heavily against the desk before moving tenderly among the desks picking up papers. Some had their work done, others had drawings of female organs instead. Pitiful drawings, too. He doubted some of the boys had ever seen a woman naked judging from the doodles.
As he neared the last desk a soft throat clearing drifted to his ears. He turned to find the Stiles boy leaning against the doorframe. “Can I help you?” Colin asked, feeling a little wary but smiling nonetheless.
“Can I help you?” Mochrie asked. Ryan saw that smile directed at him again and almost smiled back. Instead he set his mouth in a thin line and came in, standing a respectful five feet away from his teacher.
“Mr. Mochrie, I was wondering something.”
“Yes?”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing being nice to us?” Ryan demanded.
Mochrie just blinked at him, frowning slightly. “What? I’m afraid I don’t-”
“You’re being nice to them, to us,” he amended. “We have so damn little here already, why are you promising us shit you won’t deliver. Music? I haven’t heard music in so damn long I forget how Twinkle Twinkle Little Star goes.”
“I promised them music Mr. Stiles,” Mochrie was beginning to show signs of anger, making his big brown eyes start to glow. “I do not reneg on a promise as long as they don’t reneg on theirs.”
“Bullshit. We’ll never be good enough for you to waste a little thing like music on. Frost did it, Slattery did it, they all lied to us. Hell, you might as well promise us our freedom,” Ryan growled.
Mochrie squared his shoulders. “I. Don’t. Do. That.” he grated, cheeks flushing. “I believe you boys have a chance at a real life outside these bars, I don’t think you’re a waste of time, and if music is what it takes to help you further your education then dammit I’m going to bring you music!” he finished, eyes flashing, drawing up to his full height.
Ryan stared at him. The man… he was… beautiful. “You’re willing to stand up for us? To help us?”
Mochrie stepped closer, invading the safe five feet. “You’re damn right I am.” He scowled up at Ryan.
Ryan felt his pulse race as Mochrie drew closer. The man was very brave, or very stupid. Ryan was betting the first. Up close, his eyes were no longer just brown but the color of chocolate, rich and full of inner strength that took Ryan’s breath away. Ryan couldn’t think of any words to thank him, because sometimes words are so damn cheap. He leaned down and pressed his lips against Mochrie’s gently, hands laced behind his back.
Mochrie was everything he wasn’t in that kiss. Soft, tender, full of compassion… and for a second Ryan wished he wasn’t here, that they’d met in another lifetime where they could be together for real.
Colin’s lips were pressed together tightly, and for a second he didn’t know what else to do. Then he let himself feel the Stiles boy… Ryan… his name was Ryan.
Soft lips, slightly chapped, moving slowly in a light question. Colin jumped when Ryan’s tongue traced his lower lip, begging for entrance. Colin complied with a soft sigh that Ryan groaned to, letting the boy’s tongue dip into his mouth before his own danced to meet him. He tasted kind of like rain, clear and cool. Colin leaned into him, hands steadying himself on the taller boy’s chest, feeling the racing heart underneath his palm. That racing heart was what snapped him back into his senses. He backed away, lips buzzing and swollen as they parted from Ryan’s.
Ryan followed his lips for a second, eyes still closed, arms shaking with the effort to not crush the smaller man to him and let his hands roam his body. Ryan blinked down at him. “Why’d you stop?”
“Because,” Colin spoke so quietly he had to try again so Ryan could hear him. “Because… I’m a teacher, you’re a student and…” he really didn’t want to finish that sentence.
Ryan’s gaze hardened. “And I’m a prisoner, a dangerous criminal not to be trusted.” Colin looked away, chewing on his lip. Ryan almost forgot he was angry, wanting only to suck on that tempting lip and maybe more. “Fine.” He backed away. “I’ll see you tomorrow Mochrie.” He shut the door with a slam.
Colin sat down on the edge of a desk, papers resting crumpled beside him. He traced trembling fingers along his lips. They still burned with Ryan’s kiss.
“It’s Colin,” he whispered to the empty classroom.
Colin brought a turntable in, despite all that had happened, playing old Who records blended with B52’s hits, the Doors, and anything else the guys wanted to hear. At first they razzed him about the antique he was using, but when he played his old Pink Floyd record The Dark Side of the Moon, it was deemed ‘okay’.
----
“Ryan!”
Ryan spun like a cat to face the guy who was running up to meet him. It was the new meat who’d ratted on him.
“What the fuck do you want Charles?”
The kid looked terrified. “Um n-nothing Ryan, um, I was just coming over to say sorry about-”
“Yeah?” Ryan loomed over him. He was in a real bitch of a mood since he’d left Mochrie’s room. The damn man was haunting him with his taste, touch, his smell… his smell… he smelled like sandalwood. Ryan blinked to find that Charles had been staring at him while his mind wandered. His black mood revved back up. “Sorry about what? Tattling on me?”
“It wasn’t me!” Charles squeaked.
“Whatever kid,” Ryan sniffed, grabbing his collar and lifting him effortlessly off the ground.
“It was that English kid, he made me squeal!”
Ryan fist was cocked back when he hesitated. “What English kid?”
“The one with the curly hair… J-John?”
Ryan suddenly let go of his collar, dropping him from three inches in the air. “John made you squeal on me? What for?”
“I dunno, he was talking to those friends of his, Bremner and uh… uh… Fry. Yeah that was it. Said he didn’t want to get his hands dirty or something.”
Ryan snorted. “Yeah sounds like John. Mr. Big Stuff himself,” he glanced down at the kid. “Grow a backbone kid.”
The kid deflated slightly. “Yes sir,” he stared at the floor.
Ryan growled. He should have ‘Sucker’ printed in block letters on his forehead. “Fine, you can hang with my group for a while ‘til you’ve got the place,” he muttered.
Charles’ eyes lit up. “Thanks Ryan,” he grinned.,
“Fine, whatever,” Ryan scowled, walking away without bothering to turn back and see if Shorty was following him. He was anyway. “Let’s go catch a smoke Charles, let the guys know you’re with us.”
“Okay. By the way, you can call me Chip. Charles sounds too snotty for my taste.”
Ryan glanced back at him.
“Charles is fine, too,” he said meekly.
Ryan gave him a fierce grin that was more of a snarl. “Chip it is.”
Out in their section of the yard, Ryan’s group was sitting and shivering in the autumn chill, waiting impatiently for their supplier to get his tall, skinny ass over there.
“It’s about damn time!” Brad huffed, taking the offered cigarette and lighting it with shaking fingers. “We were about to send Drew in after you!”
“Relax, I always come through,” Ryan rumbled, passing out the cigarettes. “Guys, this is Chip, he’s with us for a while.”
“Hey Chip,” they all mumbled.
Jeff however cocked his head at the new guy. “Hey aren’t you the guy who squealed on Ryan?”
“John forced him to,” Ryan said.
“Who told you that?”
“He did,” Ryan jerked his thumb at Chip. All eyes turned to stare at him, and he paled at their sudden intense scrutiny and distrust. “Relax, I believe him,” Ryan said, and like that, the hostility went back in its drawer. Chip was instantly grateful to have the tall boy’s voucher. All of them went back to contemplating the reasons behind John’s motives, except Jeff, who slid off the bench and sauntered over to Chip.
“You’re kinda cute,” he said suddenly, taking a drag on his cigarette, watching Chip’s stunned reaction from behind the swirls of smoke.
“Uh… thank you?”
“What’s your swing?”
“What?”
“Which way do you swing?” Brad spoke up, watching them both with amused eyes. Everyone was watching, as a matter of fact. “Boys, girls, or both?”
“Uh… well… I don’t know,” he stuttered, “I never really… um… you know… did it… with either,” he finished lamely. They stared at him.
“Oh, we gotta take care of that,” Jeff grinned, moving behind him and wrapping warm arms around his shoulders. Chip felt a little warmer but was still as unnerved as hell. “You’re gonna lo-ove boys when you get outta here,” he purred, hot breath caressing the shorter boy’s ear. Chip shivered.
“You guys gonna fuck out here?” Ryan asked.
“Nope, but we’ll find somewhere nice and cozy,” Jeff grinned.
“I’m not sure I want to-”
“Oh you will, and believe me, I’m the lesser evil than some of the other guys out there who wouldn’t mind sticking their dick in such a nice country boy ass like yours. And you would not enjoy their attentions,” his face darkened. “Unlike myself, they won’t care how loud you scream.”
Chip turned around, looking up at his face. “Did they hurt you?”
Everyone else looked away. They knew how Jeff’s first week had gone. He was new, naive, and beautiful. Several guys took care of the first two before Ryan and Brad could offer him their protection. “Yes.” Jeff’s eyes were blazing with hatred at past horrors, at himself for being so weak, and the boys who had done it. The boys who had gotten out before he could get revenge.
Chip blinked up at him before snuggling under his chin, curling into the warmth of Jeff’s arms, wrapping his arms around the tall, slim boy’s chest and pulling him tighter, comforting him for reasons he could not name. Jeff blinked, unsure for a moment of what to do in the face of such tenderness before an overwhelming need to protect and cherish the smaller boy in his arms overcame everything. Jeff buried his nose in the soft hair behind Chip’s ear, savoring his scent and his warmth.
The other boys looked on, watching with curiosity, a small smile, and a hint of jealousy in their eyes as they studied the pair before them.
Ryan let his mind wander as his eyes settled on the embracing pair. They made a nice couple. He missed that in the real world, though in his line you rarely came across it. But every now and then, you’d find someone just… perfect. Immediate attraction, lots of stuff in common, good sense of humour, long legs, flat stomach, glossy if thinning blonde hair, deep brown eyes that you could lose yourself in happily…
Ryan realized he was thinking of Mochrie.
He wondered for a second if the man really was playing him, was playing them all. But he’d denied it so fervently, and no teacher he’d ever known would have wasted so much energy in acting the innocent when they could just as well laugh in his face. No, Mochrie seemed to be telling the truth, though he also seemed to throw Ryan’s normally sharp ability to sniff out the truth all to Hell.
The man was damn hard to read.
But he treated Ryan and the rest of the students with class, and borderline respect as long as they didn’t pull stupid shit around him. Brave little fucker, too. Ryan smirked around his cigarette, leaning back comfortably against the seat behind him and stretching out his long legs on the seats in front. Invading the five-foot safety space of a felon, then letting Ryan kiss him. Ryan let his mind remember the kiss in every detail imaginable, feeling a wash of warmth flood his system.
Brad poked his arm. “Hey Ry,” his voice was thick with amusement. Ryan looked over to see the others giggling or grinning like fools. “You thinking about your mother or something?” He pointed at Ryan’s crotch. Ryan frowned at him before looking down. His jeans were straining over his sizable hardon.
He smirked lazily. “Nope, just remembering your sister.”
Brad made an amused outraged noise, leaping for him when Drew grabbed both of their shoulders, bringing the festivities to a halt.
“Here comes the Mooch,” he said, glaring across the courtyard at some approaching figures. “And oh look, he’s brought friends,” he grinned unpleasantly.
John made his way towards them followed by less than half of his usual entourage.
“Wonder how much he paid off Patterson to let him out here with us,” Jeff wondered idly, leading Chip up to the top seats on the stand to sit with him, away from where the action might be.
The other rumbled agreement at the blatant acknowledgement of Patterson’s dealings with John. They just didn’t know what.
“Nobody says anything with out my say so, got it?” Ryan growled quietly. Everyone nodded, settling back down, looking like a pride of lions watching a small heard of zebra stroll up to them.
“Stiles,” John nodded respectfully to him.
“Sessions,” Ryan nodded back.
“Care to share a fag?” Sessions asked, holding up a Zippo. Ryan offered him a cigarette, extending only a long arm and making the boy come to him, to separate from his herd. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
Ryan nodded but said nothing until Sessions had lit up and taken a drag. “What do you want Sessions?”
The small man studied his cigarette coal. “I have a business proposition for you,” he said lightly.
Ryan settled back, grinning. “Oh really?”
“Indeed, however, I will not divulge information in front of witnesses should you say no to my offer.”
“They’ll hear about it anyway.”
Sessions shrugged, “Nevertheless, second hand information is not admissible in court.”
Ryan’s eyebrows raised while his eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to get a life sentence in real prison John,” his voice was quiet and very, very dangerous.
Sessions nodded. “Hear me out Stiles, that’s all you have to do.”
Ryan cocked his head. “Fine, but your boys stay here, too.”
Sessions glanced behind him. “You heard the man,” he sniffed. Rory and Stephen went down to the far end of the stands, their faces saying eloquently what they thought of this, and settled down, grumbling and muttering to themselves.
Ryan and John walked to the far end of the courtyard, making sure they were still in full view of both their groups and the guards in their towers. “Stiles, I’m sure you’re aware of the smuggling going on throughout this complex.” John waved his hand at the school and facility. Ryan nodded. “You yourself have become quite the man to come to for much needed oddities from the outside world,” he grinned.
Ryan wrinkled his nose down at the smaller man who barely reached his chest. “Yeah, what of it?”
“You have quite the client base, you know, as well as the ear of the Warden.”
Ryan knew that was not true but didn’t dispute it. His heart was buzzing in his chest. This is what he was here for after all.
“I want you to join forces with me, help us smuggle more… profitable items than make up and panty hose.” John tapped his cigarette, scattering ashes.
“Profitable items?”
“Oh… this and that.”
“I won’t do shit for you unless I know what I’ll be smuggling,” Ryan smirked.
John glared up at him, head cocked to one side so he didn’t have to crane his neck. “Fine you nincompoop,” he growled, making Ryan’s fierce grin grow even wider. “We have small shipments of cocaine and methamphetmine coming in. Prime stuff that the boys here pay high prices for, and my regular channels met with… unfortunate accidents.”
Ryan was hard put to control his excitement at this revelation. “Okay, what do you want me to do about that?”
“I want you to get it in. You’ve never been caught.”
“Yeah actually I did,” Ryan growled, “you made sure of that.”
John’s eyes widened. “Me? Why would I do that?”
“Oh I dunno, to make it so I have one more strike before the Warden has to ship me to a maximum security facility. Be a great way to get rid of me,” Ryan snarled.
From the flush of color on John’s cheeks, he knew he had pinned it just right.
“What about the guards?” Ryan asked.
John blinked at the sudden change of subject but continued, watching Ryan even closer. “We own them all. With one we have a… arrangement so he keeps himself and one other in line. And the other two heads, we have some rather incriminating pictures of them that would be detrimental to their wives and their marriages,” John looked pleased with himself.
Ryan wanted to press the issue, to find out who was being used, who was being paid off and the lot, but if he pressed too hard, Sessions would clam up. And that would ruin everything. He toyed with the idea of hanging him by his shirt collar on the fence and using him as a punching bag before he let it go. He’d get the little fuck in the end. “Fine, I want Forty-two percent of the take.”
“Forty-two percent?!” John exploded, pallid face thinning with rage.
“You don’t want to get caught, you gotta pay,” Ryan said smoothly.
John seemed to turn several shades of angry before he made a noise like a teakettle venting steam out. “Fine. Fine… forty-two… percent it is.” He held out his hand.
Ryan regarded it for a moment before shaking it, his hand completely engulfing the smaller boy’s sweaty one.
The deal was done.
John turned on his heel and marched away, his cronies hurrying after him until they were all out of the yard.
Once Ryan got back to the stands, everyone was looking questions at him and glaring daggers after John’s disappearing back. “What was that about?” Brad asked.
Ryan told them, all the while wiping his hands on his jeans.
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