the prompt was 'shackles'. this fic is going to be multi-chapter, ehuehueheue
Handcuffs weren't what Yao wanted. Their cold iron was all that was stopping him from doing his all to break the bars or vent of his cell. He would rather have blood on his hands – as much as he detested it – than the cold metal of his binds. He had ended up in this jail due to his shenanigans in robbing. It was last year that he had been finally caught, after being notoriously known as the local jewel and bank thief. Yao did have an eye for beauty, and money was just as gorgeous as the gems he loved to surround himself with. How he committed the thievery was in fact quite amazing; he would use a combination of various martial arts to take out any guards, break windows or even walls, grab the prize, and then escape via the rooftops. Since his capture, he had spent only a short time in court – he had pleaded guilty, as not doing so would be useless – and after that, he had been moved off to prison, sentenced for serial robbery and sentenced to twenty-four years for the countless stores he'd ransacked.
Summer seemed to bring out the worst in people, he noted. The heat seemed to get to people's heads, and that brought plenty of new inmates to the institution. Yao had been without a cellmate for a long time, since his previous one had finished his sentence and was allowed his freedom again. That man had been plain and quiet, and Yao barely spoke to him.
It was when a new inmate was practically dragged along the corridor that Yao's interest was piqued. The new man clearly didn't fit the garb he'd been given. He was bulky and thick-shouldered; his chest was wide and seemingly plush; he had a messy mop of pale blond hair to top it all off. Even as he was tugged along, Yao could see that he was tall, much taller than he was. Something about the man didn't fit the scene though. Ah, he was crying. There we go.
"Oh, stop your wailing!" cursed one of the cops, who applied a boot to the prisoner's shin. Yao cringed; if there was one officer you didn't want on your case, it was Arthur Kirkland. Notorious for his obsessive rule-enforcing, he was not one to be meddled with. That didn't stop the majority of the prisoners in his cellblock, however, from making fun of him. He began to feel a touch sorry for the new prisoner, who was now just sniveling and sniffling.
It was when Yao's cell door was unlocked that he really took notice of what was going on.
"Look, Wang, you have a chum now," scoffed Arthur, as he pushed the man into his cell and locked the door.
"Just one? Now I have more friends than you, you Yīngguó zhā!" Yao hollered, raising his fist – well, as much as he could within his shackles – in what would be considered quite the rude gesture back where he was from.
As Arthur rolled his eyes and toddled off, Yao turned his attention to the puffy-eyed newcomer. "Say, xiān ròu, do you have a name?" He queried, giving the man a hard look over. In return, he just let out a little squeak, clearly unsure of what he was supposed to do. "You can speak, I'm not going to bite." Yao quipped, amused by the stranger's silence. "Well, not that much."
"Ivan Braginsky," he stated quietly, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
Ah, Ivan. How interesting. "Oh, so you can speak!" Yao hummed, getting up from his uncomfortable cell bed and wandering over. "My name is Wang Yao. I'd shake your hand, but the guards don't like me having my hands free, duìbùqǐ." He laughed softly, lifting his cuffed wrists to show.
"Mm, hello," murmured Ivan, not exactly comfortable around Yao yet. "So, who are you exactl-"
"So, what did you do, pray tell?" Yao interjected, taking another step closer, and watching Ivan take a step back. "Was it bad? Real bad? Shì de, I hope it's something interesting!"
Well, he was pushing all the wrong buttons and being an insensitive prick while he was at it, as it seemed. At his questions, the man just flinched and backed up even more, until he was pressing himself against the wall of the cell, features scrunched up. He really wasn't the prisoner type, was he? Poor guy. "I didn't mean to, I-" he whimpered, holding his head in his hands.
At the distress of the strange man, Yao's eyes softened, and he just stared in pity as his fellow inmate ended up curled up and on the floor. "Uh, duìbùqǐ, I'm sorry," he muttered, crouching beside the man. "You may as well tell me, or some other inmate will make up a story, and rumors spread like wildfire in this hell." Yao mused, raising a brow. "If you wish, I can tell my story first?" After a few moments of silence – well, silence if you excused Ivan's soft sniveling – Ivan quelled his tears, and managed to sit up again, and nodded.
"I was the best jewel thief around." Yao started, sitting down properly and smiling to his cellmate as he began to relay his tale. Many of the new inmates already knew of him when they came here, so someone who didn't was a rare and pleasant surprise. "I'd be in as fast as lightning, I would take what I wanted, and I'd be out just as quickly as I'd come. Cops couldn't catch me, no matter how hard they tried."
"If they couldn't catch you, how come you're here?" Ivan asked softly, not meaning to sound cheeky, but doing so anyway. He wiped his eyes and intently listened.
"Hey! I'm telling the story, and I'll get to that part when the time is right!" Yao puffed, embarrassed. "Anyway, as I was about to say, it was the big-time heist that was my downfall. Dìyù, I was a fool for even trying to rob the Edelstein mansion. They were expecting me when I got there, and tasers are just a bit faster than me." He laughed bitterly, running his fingers through the tips of his hair. "I still have a scar on my belly from when the cops tried to stab me," he scoffed.
"You sound dangerous," Ivan said quietly, a little worried for his own safety in this cell.
"And you're not? You wouldn't be here if you were a harmless little pup." Yao scoffed, leaning his hands in his lap as he sat basket-style.
"That's it though, I'm not supposed to be here!" Ivan whined, shifting a little where he sat. "There was a mix-up, I couldn't have killed either of them-" he whimpered, threatening to cry again.
"Uh, now, now, don't cry, qǐng," Yao mumbled, reaching out awkwardly and trying to pat Ivan's shoulder, as hard as it was to do so. "You're going to have to suck it up, as irritating as that is, because if you're here, in this here cellblock, you're here for a while.. Now what exactly did you do?"
"I didn't do anything!" protested Ivan, staring at Yao with wide eyes. At some point, he had started to shake, the anxieties caused by this place starting to finally set in. "My sisters were murdered-.. I was framed, I-.. I-!" he stammered, beginning to gasp for breath. Alarmed, Yao shuffled forward and touched at the man's hand, quietly trying to tell him to calm down. "I didn't kill them!" screeched Ivan, who was finding it hard to inhale.
"That's right, you didn't, I know," assured Yao, honestly frightened by the larger man, doing his best to try to soothe the poor guy. "Ivan Braginsky, please calm down," he tried, unsure of just what to do as his cellmate's panic attack only worsened.
Ivan's screaming had not gone unheard, and it wasn't long before the head of the officers at the cellblock turned up to check what the fuss was about. Fretting, Yao turned to the Briton standing in front of the cell, and shouted a 'dāizi, do something!'. The door was unlocked hastily, and a pair of Arthur's inferiors bustled about inside. One of them drew a syringe, to sedate the seething and hyperventilating Russian. It all seemed to be a blur as he was carried out of the cell, the door was locked, and Yao was left alone again.
A/N: Yīngguó is a word of Chinese derivative slang that is used to mean 'Britain' or 'British'. Zhā translates to 'prick'.
Xiān ròu translates to 'fresh meat'.
Duìbùqǐ translates to 'excuse me' or 'I'm sorry'.
Shì de translates to 'yes'.
Dìyù translates to 'hell'.
Qǐng translates to 'please'.
Dāizi translates to 'idiot'.