Very dialogue-heavy chapter! But hopefully you all think it's fun dialogue! No spoilers on next chapter but expect sex.
Warnings: drug use and raunchy Isabela #poorCullen.
A/N: I am finally done with EXAMS! I really do apologize for the time I had to take off to *shudders* study and live in the real world. But I'm back! And done! And I'm really happy to bring you all the next chapter here. Thank you to everyone who has commented, supported, followed, drawn amazing inspiring art for (*cough* Cyanopsis *cough*). You're all amazing and have no idea how much confidence your words give me.
Thank you for reading and enjoy this next installment!
Anders followed behind as they met with the tail-end of hungry prisoners trailing to the kitchens.
There was no answer to the millions of questions he wanted to throw at this man, only words unspoken. Words telling Anders to shut up and to stop bothering. Those tattoos caught his eye again and instead of memorizing the layout of the building around him for future use he found himself admiring the heavy ink. It twisted all over his body in a strange tribal pattern that gave no inclination as to where one began and where another stopped. To join the Dalish Gang one needed to commit to several face tattoos but this was nothing like what they wore.
It didn't symbolize anything, but it did make him beautiful, exotic. Elves were always considered pretty like that - oppressed by society in nearly all regards, but in private almost always lusted after. This elf was different, dwarves kept their distance, humans showed their respect, even the Qunari for most intents and purposes didn't bother him. Fenris was someone untouchable.
Fenris stiffened as Anders nearly toppled into him, distracted by the intimidating elf and the elegant way he moved. All Anders received in return for the misdemeanor was an angry shot of glowering eyes.
"Sorry," Anders mumbled as he usually did when he was more embarrassed for being socially incorrect than actually asking forgiveness.
They were at the back of the line. Round tables surrounded them to their left and a cold brick wall greeted their shoulders on the right. Anders turned, careful to how he observed everyone's faces, never looking directly at eyes, only bodies.
Segregation may have ended decades ago, but prison was not the rest of the world. Each table section held their respective race, their gang. Hawke and Varric sat alone at a table but they ate like kings - two trays instead of the normal one. Even if they were ostracized from the group it seemed they still had their ways to get what was needed.
It was easy to tell who was the head of each of these groups. The loud one, most muscular, the quiet one who merely grinned as the rest of his group chatted eagerly - they were all different in some way but they stood out together as leaders. Something in their eyes, a different color, a sharper bite.
"Move!" Anders felt a hand to his shoulder and a heavy push as the rest of the line had already heeded the command to the left to make way for the hulking Qunari.
He tried to collect himself, watching steadily as the large character took his place at the front of the line. Fenris was scowling, something that Anders figured wasn't uncommon for him, but it seemed more pointed than before.
"Who was that?" he whispered his question to the elf.
"The Arishok," Fenris only gave him a few words at a time, but it was enough.
The man took his food, moving loudly past the other tables and to the one that was marked with horns and rigid postures. Others at the table nodded with utmost respect when their leader moved to sit. It was incredible, something you would never be able to witness on the other side, loyalty freely given as if this man was a king.
"Well you're a new face!" A happy elf smiled at Anders from behind a hair net that kept slipping into her eyes, much too big for her.
It was a woman, which Anders was surprised to find in a male prison. She looked up at him with bright eyes and he figured he wouldn't get in trouble for being polite, "Yeah, I just got sent here today."
She followed him down the line while scooping out food for his tray, "Well that's exciting," she was humming. "you seem nice."
He wanted to laugh, the woman was in a room full of violent prisoners - and out of everything she thought he seemed nice. But he kept leveled, "Thank you, I'm actually surprised how open everyone seems here."
"Chocolate or sugar?"
Anders looked at the cookies she flashed him, "Sugar."
As if she thought her job was taking care of baby animals she placed the cookie on his tray with care, "I hope you have a nice time here. It can be really helpful and therapeutic for a lot of men if they let it be. Have you been assigned a job yet?"
"Not that I know of, no," he was holding up the line as he tried to finish the conversation.
"Well, I'll talk to my supervisor and see if I can't have you placed in my kitchen - we always need friendly faces!"
"Thank you…" he didn't know her name so his bidding seemed unfinished.
"Merrill!" She chirped her name like she was the happiest little hen. Why she worked in a prison when she could easily be hired anywhere else was completely beyond him.
He nodded his head, moving aside, "Thank you, Merrill."
At first he didn't move towards any one table, they were all full, or at least filling. Everyone sitting at them seemed to be familiar with one another - it wasn't something to easily walk into. He tried to keep his breathing lowered, keep calm. The new smells wrapped around him, putrid vegetables, rotted meats, watery potatoes. It was enough to have him lose his balance for a moment.
"Woah, are you alright, buddy?" Someone caught his arm, keeping him upright.
"Oh," Anders didn't know what to think, didn't understand why his body was reacting like this, "I'm sorry. I really didn-"
He looked up and met eyes with the human helping him up. Anders felt his body clench up and freeze, he almost tripped again onto this man.
"I should leave," Anders tried to untangle himself from the arm, "excuse me, sorry again."
"No wait," he was gripped strongly by the wrist, "Don't I know you from somewhere?"
Anders laughed nervously, he had always been a terrible liar. The teachers always knew when he was skipping class to snog someone in the library versus when he was truly sick, "Um, I really don't think so, man. I need to go."
He shook his head, "No. I know I know you… a party?" he scratched his chin, the slight scruff enunciating his motions, "Have you ever been to a rave hosted by my Wardens? I'll figure it out," his passive curiosity at least calmed Anders, "Maybe you're a friend of Oghren's?"
His jaw clenched at the mention of that name, "Nope, sorry, man. I've been told I have a common face before so maybe that's it?"
"Maybe," the man was unconvinced, "Well regardless, newface, or commonface, or whatever, I am Alistair - you can come to me if you ever need anything. Commissary doesn't come in? I'm fine handing out a loan, to a trustworthy guy."
"Oh," Anders nodded as he pretended to understand the lingo with confidence, "sure."
Their light was obstructed by something as a new body walked towards them. Anders felt the body move closer to him, whether it was good or bad he didn't bother to look, "'Ey, I'm going to just steal this one from you, Stairway."
"Don't fucking call me that, Hawke," the exchange was heated, quick, intimidating.
Hawke's grin twisted as it had a tendency to do, "Sure thing, pal."
Alistair observed him closely, clearly looking at the whites of his eyes. He was standing still, broad shoulders set squarely and permanently as if glued to his spot on the tiled floor. To his part Hawke did seem odd, so the intense scrutiny made sense. The man squirmed with a violent smile on his lips, one that he constantly sucked at as his jaw twitched without control.
"I'll see you two around then," the other man remained calm, considering Hawke's behavior expertly. He returned to Anders before waving him away, "You know where to find me, I suppose."
Hawke's thick arm wrapped around Anders' slim body, practically dragging him across the floor as the man excitedly drummed his fist across tables they passed. Anders was careful following at Hawke's side, holding his tray steady as he was brought to the near-abandoned table in the back - empty except for the three faces that had decided to adopt him.
"Varric!" Hawke was practically jumping as he reached across the trays to shake the man's hand like he was a business partner, "How the fuck are things going?"
"They're great, Hawke," the dwarf didn't seem interested in Hawke's behavior, he was busy scribbling numbers onto a sheet of paper, "Shit, I think I'm down a thousand with you."
"Because you suck." he inhaled deeply in the middle of sentence, "you suck at cards, man!"
"I'm great at cards, I think you just cheat," Varric rapped his pencil on the pad of paper.
"Let me see," Hawke didn't wait, taking his own initiative to grab the sheet and attack it with a second pencil. He was mumbling to himself. Both the elf and the dwarf paid him no attention, only Anders seemed engrossed by the change in personality. The calm, well-spoken man he had met was gone with this bouncing, gangbanger, "You never dropped the one back in November, your math is wrong."
Varric shook his head, "That powder is fucking with you, Hawke, my math is never wrong."
His laugh was loud, a few heads from other tables shifted, "I've dealt cocaine my whole fucking life, I think I know how to add shit."
The two friends continued to bicker over debts and math. Anders had never found interest in the subject - tuning it out was his specialty. And that's what he did. He looked down at the glomed mess of chemicals he was served. To be specific it was a tray consisting of the butt-ends of broccoli, a scoop of potatoes swimming in a paste, and a perfectly square slab of meat that shook as he prodded it with a plastic fork.
He was fed better at the homeless shelter.
Maybe the two weren't so different from each other. Both housed people that were slaves to the system, both treated those unlucky enough to find themselves in that situation like shit. No. It wasn't different at all. He began to drain the watery paste from the potatoes on his plastic spoon. Of course it was going to taste bad. His first foster family, an upper-middle class lot from the suburbs, had scolded him for judging his food before eating it. But it was obvious. Food rarely lies.
His stomach dropped as he took the potatoes into his mouth, the lumpy texture playing tricks on his mind as to its origin. Gagging was the first response, but he held himself, trying not to upset those around him - they had to eat the same garbage too, didn't they? It slid down his throat and he tried to eliminate all traces of it from his tongue by aggressively swallowing.
Anders had technically had worse. Running away from the juvy officers he once survived on actual trash he found in the forests for a whole week - licking discarded wrappers, peeling off the mold of bread with his nails to find the few unspoiled spots. Even that seemed a better alternative than this for some reason.
"You get used to it," Fenris was staring at him, those big green eyes watching the new prisoner pick at his food like a child.
"It's really not that bad," Anders lied through his teeth, but was surprised to find the elf so interested in him.
Fenris laughed in response, "No, it really is that bad. But after a while it loses its bite."
"How-" he stopped himself, he wanted to ask how long Fenris had been here, in jail, but an aggressively large man was positioned to interrupt that train of thought.
"Fenris, settle this for us," Hawke turned, the happy smile replaced by an angered frown, "whose math is right? It's mine! I know it's mine!"
Varric rose slightly his attitude now hardened, "Hey, calm down. Do you want them to test you, Hawke? Right before visitation? Sit down and eat your food, I'll figure out the balance."
"You'll cheat me out of my fucking money."
The dwarf shook his head, "What kind of shit is Isabela bringing you? Doesn't seem like the good stuff because you're treading a dangerous line, friend."
"Don't you fucking bring Isabela into this, she is-"
There was a pound on the table, and a stern growl from Fenris, "Calm. Yourself. Down."
Hawke breathed unsteadily, his face twitching slightly. His nose was running, eyes had a ring of red around them with pupils taking up a majority of the circle. At the warning his hands reached for his arms, scratching at them slightly.
"Is he alright?"
They all regarded Anders and his question. The other human nodded after a moment, seemingly forcing himself to sober, "Yeah, yeah. Yeah. I'm just going to go flush out my nose…"
His tablemates watched him move away, his tall figure moving slowly past a guard and into another corner of the jail. Anders knew those symptoms, not personally, but for a while he had been somewhat of an alcoholic - Justice put an end to that disaster - but he had known people at the shelter with similar mannerisms to Hawke.
"How much," Anders motioned with his hands, not wanting to say anything aloud, "is he taking?"
Varric took a deep breath before flipping the controversial balances back to the first page, "He usually doesn't take much - the man was a seller out there and he's one in here too. But," the dwarf scratched the side of his face, "Isabela should be coming tomorrow and he always gets stressed when she comes to… supply him."
"Oh," Anders nodded, accepting the criminal behavior as if it was normal behind bars. But it was something else. He felt bad, his head that told him to help everyone wanted to help this violent man he didn't even know.
"Yep," the dwarf began stacking the emptied trays - only Anders' remained half-full, "you know, Blondie, if you won't eat your food I'm sure Broody will take it."
The elf turned slowly, clearly disgusted by the petname.
"He can have it," Anders pressed the tray towards the pretty elf as if it was an offering.
"I don't want your leftovers, I am not a pet. I am not a beggar!"
Anders was taken aback, unsure of what he said or did to receive such a reaction. Varric pinched the bridge between his nose, "You two are worse than my whores today - you and Hawke both need to take the attitude down."
Fenris leaned backwards, almost pouting as much as Anders could make out, "I am not a whore either."
"That's right," Varric laughed to himself at a joke only he was making, "Blondie is going to be our whore."
Anders shook his head, confidence building as his passion took over, "Oh, no. I thought we covered this, I will be no one's whore and that's that."
"You say that now, but you don't understand all the perks you can have. These guys," he signaled to the men gathered around tables, "they're hungry. Some of them haven't had sex in years. You open yourself a little, smile, touch them? They'll give you anything."
"What could I possibly want that would equate to me whoring myself out?" Anders was disgusted. He knew girls who had to sell themselves, it wasn't something he thought should be romanticized. And regardless he had Karl and would remain loyal.
"Like I said anything," he emphasized this with a dangerous wink, "drugs, alcohol, cellphones, magazines, cigarettes, protection? You'll start to miss things."
He scoffed, "You really think I'll go and sell myself on the understanding I'll get a Twix bar out of it?"
"You already don't eat the food, I suspect you'll be singing a different tune later. And why fight it? You're good looking unlike these other sods, you can really make out well in here."
It made Anders pause, if only for a moment. But then reality sunk in. He was talking to a master manipulator, a fraud, a liar, a pimp. This man would do anything, could do anything to talk him out of his morals - that's why he was here. That's why everyone was here.
He couldn't trust anyone.
"If he doesn't want to sell his ass for people then let it go, Varric."
The elf stared at the new prisoner, seeing something that only registered somewhere deep within him and that he wouldn't even reveal to himself just yet. Varric took a glance between them and eased his plan of attack, "Ah, of course, Broody is going to educate me on selling people. He is the expert aftera-"
Fenris stood and everyone in the mess hall froze, subconsciously, they could feel it as the elf's anger mounted. He pointed at the smaller man, scowl permanent and threatening, "Don't you even dare, dwarf, or so help me."
Varric threw up his hands playfully, "Alright, alright, don't go ripping my heart out, please."
"You little-"
"Hey!" Anders turned to the returning presence, a somber Hawke, "Are you two fighting at my table?"
They each calmed, sitting down and attempting to return to the normalcy of what was a tumultuous first day for Anders. Varric observed his friend carefully, Hawke's face was contorted in pain, cheeks wet. Fenris took a moment to take the man's transformation into account as well.
"Feeling better?"
He collapsed into the heap of his own large arms, "Yeah," the response was muffled, troubled. His red eyes peaked out for a moment, "I need to go to fucking NA today and I really don't want to."
Varric reached out to pat Hawke on his arm, "I know, Hawke. But Meredith would come and drag you out of the room if you decided to sulk up there another day."
Several men stood up, and it was clear a clock rotation was taking place. Alistair continued past the table, nodding to Hawke who acknowledged the man and joined him. Anders stared at the two who had, only a few moments ago, shared a heated conversation and now seemed to be sympathetic of the others' feelings. It was a strange way to live.
"So, are you up for a round of cards?"
Anders wasn't sure if the question was directed towards him or Fenris but he responded anyways, "I think I need to see the warden today, and I'm not sure how that works."
"Ah," Varric nodded, "yeah, she'll drag you into her office, probably chastise you for your crime, try to scare you out of breaking any rules and give you a schedule she'll expect you to have memorized by heart in the next ten minutes."
"I mean I figured they'd have to be a hardass to be in charge of a prison."
"Oh, not really, you see Hawke is friends with her and because of that he gets away with a lot of shit. It's all a matter of perspective and if you're not an idiot and submit to the few things she expects of you, it can be an easy time."
He nodded and shifted his gaze to Fenris again who was unashamedly staring once again. The elf picked his chin up which accentuated the long twisting marks lining his neck and pointed to someone walking towards the table, "Guard. Probably for you."
"Thanks," Anders smiled to the pair before responding to the officer, even if they were manipulative, terrible people whose emotions were constantly unraveling at the flip of a coin, they were still fairly friendly people.
"The warden will have you now," it was the same blond officer from earlier. He didn't take notice of the elf or dwarf sitting alone.
Anders followed obediently, nervous about what this figure could look like, the type of person she would be. He hoped to beg a phonecall out of her, so he could beg Justice to visit him. Just to see him, touch him, it would make everything better after these past few weeks of being shuffled around like an animal off to the slaughter.
Officer Cullen continued to press several buttons and Anders had to show his badge at each checkpoint. The halls were nearly empty save for a few trusted prisoners sweeping the floors. The building was large too, larger than it seemed on the outside at least. They passed quite a few rooms purposed for various programs. There was a library encased in revealing glass, with a handful of men reading. A gym, also with easy vantage points where one could see everything happening. Some Dalish were playing a game on the court, with a guard watching uninterested.
Then they passed the classrooms, big boards on the wall, an alphabet written in large handwriting and a man enunciating his words. Hawke was hard to miss in the room next to it, his being always taking up copious amounts of space. It was clear he was coming off his high, his eyes were sunken, dejected. His thick hands ran through his hair nervously and Anders watched as Alistair rubbed his back affectionately.
"Here we are," the man didn't make anything too ceremonious, "the warden is a busy woman but I promise she cares about each prisoner."
Anders responded with a slight nod, "Thank you."
The officer knocked on the door and had Anders stand further away with his hands folded into each other. Cullen stood back as well when the door opened, greeting the warden with respect, "Here is the newest prisoner, Miss Stannard."
"Thank you, Mr. Rutherford, I will take it from here," her voice was gentle but there was still a layer of authority within it. She regarded Anders with icy blue eyes, but her face remained passive. In all accounts she seemed remarkable, pale face, pale blond hair. It was striking and demanded attention, even her posture seemed calculated and rigid.
Her hand moved to welcome Anders into her office. Already the room seemed different from the the rest of the prison. There was color on the walls, specialized photos, manicured plants, organized papers. A faint trace of lilac danced around the room as Meredith led Anders to an open chair.
"I hope you will find our facilities accommodating," she looked at a paper neatly squared on her desk, "Mr. Kristoff?"
"Yes, that's my foster father's last name," Anders shifted uncomfortably in the chair, unused to being referred to as such except on formal occasions, which, with his track record, were typically when he was getting in trouble for one thing or another.
"Excellent. Well may I please formally welcome you to our prison. We house many men, some who leave, some who return, rest assured there will always be a place for you within these walls until you have lived out your time."
Anders licked his lips carefully, contemplating, "Well I do have a lot of time to live, then."
"Certainly, your sentence was just for such an act of terror."
The words were sharp and they cut at Anders, he felt his teeth biting down on his tongue as the need to defend his actions grew, "I don't think it was an act of terror, per se."
"No? Then what would you call it? How is it any different from you killing children at a school to force a reaction?"
"What?" He couldn't help his emotions, "It's completely different! I never killed anyone and would never even dream of it. I created a symbol! It was a message of how cruel our justice system is and how many people will no longer stand for it."
She cocked an eyebrow, "You will do well not to raise your voice with me, inmate. We can either be friends or enemies here," she paused to take a sip of her coffee, "You see, I only know the numbers, the facts. I know everything that happens in this prison because I rely on people to trust me. All I know of you is your crime and from that alone I am able to pass judgement on the man you will be here."
Anders was taken aback, "You can't judge me on some pretense. I am proud of what I did and would gladly stand behind it."
"And prison is a worthy price then?" She let out a light laugh, "We will see how that stance changes won't we? Until then I will have my eye on you and I don't want any conspiring against my guards, no prison riots and absolutely none of your riling them up. Hopefully we will be friends. Perhaps I can offer you that phone call you asked Mr. Rutherford for?"
"I…" she signaled to the phone on her desk and he caught himself wavering, "would you allow it?"
"I would, I like to take care of you boys," her smile was just as predatory as the prisoners not even a few feet away, "Please, call your foster father and ask him to come visit you. I might even be able to help arrange transportation."
"Really?"
She merely handed him the phone in response, "Press nine first and then dial the number," she stood, "I'll leave a moment to give you privacy."
Privacy was now a foreign word to Anders but he appreciated it, taking the phone greedily and not even waiting for Meredith to leave before he chanted out Justice's number. It rang ominously the first few beats and he bit his lip in anticipation for one of the only people who cared of him to answer.
"Hello?"
It was Justice. Gruff, annoyed Justice. Anders couldn't contain his smile as he listened to everything in the background, music playing, Justice's one Sex Pistols album, and a TV humming the voice of Jeff Probst on Survivor. He and Justice had been used to this schedule. Anders away at the shelter during the day and at night coming home to watch whatever TV show the pair was currently invested in.
"Hello? Anyone there?"
Anders straightened, realizing he hadn't said a word, "Oh, Justice! It's me, it's Anders."
"Anders? Shit," he placed something down on a table and it was loud enough to muffle through the phone, "are you okay, are you alright? Anders, tell me everything."
"Things are okay," he smiled as the other man fussed over his well being, "I just got my first phone call at the new facility here… they'll let you come in to visit tomorrow if you can."
"Do you want me too?" The ambient noise on Justice's end died down, he likely turned down the volume on both appliances.
Anders nodded, even though Justice couldn't see him, "I would really, really, love it if you came. I just need to see an old face."
"Are you sure you want to see my old face, though?"
He couldn't help but smile, "Yes, I'm sure. I have to fill out some papers to have Karl visit but since you're immediate family you only need to bring your I.D."
"I'll be there, I promise. Are you holding up okay, is this really the first time they've let you call?"
Little lies don't hurt anyone, "Yeah, this is the first time. I've finally gotten used to the system a little bit, but this is my first day at this prison, so it's like starting over all again."
"Different from juvie?"
That got a laugh out of Anders, "You couldn't imagine. The barbed wire is over ten feet tall, all the doors require a badge with your face and number on it, there are guards everywhere. Justice, I seriously miss your leftover night."
"The food is that bad?" Hearing Justice chuckle made him even happier.
"Terrible stuff. My cellmate is crazy too, some elf covered in tattoos. I've also been told to pimp myself out by a former pimp and watched a guy snort coke on my bunk. It's all quite interesting."
"You stay safe now, you hear? I don't know how Karl would react to any of that."
"I know, I know… going to just do my time. Maybe finally learn Tevene like I've wanted."
Justice took a moment to light a cigarette, Anders could hear the lighter ignite, "I promise to visit you as often as I can, kid. You're all I have."
"Thanks, Justice," Anders tried to savor that collected voice, "don't forget about tomorrow, okay?"
"I wouldn't dream of it! Now, go eat some shitty prison food and don't forget to tell me how much you miss me."
"I won't. Bye, Justice." Meredith reentered the room exactly on cue, smiling politely as Anders held the phone closer to himself.
"See you tomorrow, Anders."
He handed the phone back to Meredith slowly, making sure he had turned it off correctly, "Thank you for letting me call ahead."
"Of course," she paused to straighten the one piece of paper before her again, "it was a good conversation?"
Anders nodded.
"Lovely, well with all that out of the way I'm obliged to give you your schedule. You've been deemed by the courts in need of counseling so that is marked on there, but other than that we have yet to give you a job assignment…"
"Oh, the elven woman who works in the kitchens mentioned something about me working with her?"
"Did she?" Meredith mumbled something to herself, "Well I can fit that in then and things should work out well." She typed into her computer as Anders waited quietly until the printer hummed with a new schedule.
He thanked her as he observed the structured day. It seemed he would wake earlier but have more freetime throughout the afternoon hours. At least it was something. Not knowing what would come next was more worrisome than having someone plan your life for you.
She responded with a few lasting remarks but Anders was already in another world where he eagerly awaited Justice's visit. He was escorted back to his cell block where he spent the remainder of the day playing cards with Varric. The dwarf was intimidating and dangerous but he was good enough company.
At some point Fenris joined as well, laying down a few candy bars to up the ante of the game. Anders had nothing to contribute, but he didn't win anyways so it didn't seem to bother either of the other players. The time passed slowly, but it was passing. A few Wardens regarded interest in the game and since the skill level was therefore being raised Anders was forced to sit out and watch.
But it was nice to be surrounded by people. Strange for those people to be prisoners, but nice regardless for interaction.
Eventually Hawke returned before the dinner hours, but his mood had dipped even lower and everyone save Varric did well not to bother him. For his part the dwarf did seem to care, whispering things to Hawke and patting him on the back. Anders stayed put and only involved in his own business, answering a few questions about his crime to those who had interest but really going through the motions.
His schedule, which he had memorized rather quickly with so little to occupy himself with, said he wouldn't begin any work until Monday, meaning he still had a few days of freedom. Or as free as it got in a jail. As the dinner hour came and went Anders found himself alone in his bunk for the first time that day. The walls weren't decorated, there were no naked women plastered next to his bunk like the cell next door had. Fenris kept things plain, simple, but at least it was clean.
Anders stared at the space he had next to his wall, picturing what he might decorate with. There were the obvious things, like photos of Justice and Karl. But he wondered if prison would ever allow a grown man to decorate his wall with cat pictures - surely it wasn't Fenris' style. Anders did love the creatures though, how soft they were, their big eyes. For a long time he had a cat that he took everywhere with him. Ser Pounce A Lot, but their time was limited like it was with most people in his life.
"Fenris?" There was a bang on the door and then a shuffling of keys as someone went to open it, "Fenris!"
"He's not in here," Anders showed himself to the confused guard, "not sure where he is at the moment actually."
The guard stood back and rubbed his long goatee, staring scrutinizingly close at Anders' face as if the man was hiding something, "Fenris got a roommate?"
"Yeah, I'm Anders."
"Anders, huh?" The guard stared at him, then looked at the outside hallway behind him, his actions careful and watchful, "you're brand new to the prison system?"
"Yes, sir."
"Interesting," he looked to the floor then back at Anders, "You know, you don't look like some of the other fellows in here. You're not ugly."
Anders creased his brow, unsure how to respond, "Thank you?"
"You're welcome… my name is Office Alrik, if you need to report something I'm in charge of the night watch."
"Okay," Anders responded simply, cautious about what he said to the authority figures.
Alrik smiled cruelly, as if he were scheming a plot, enough that it made Anders shiver, "I'll see you around then. Sleep well, Anders."
And with that he was gone, but quickly replaced by an angered Fenris. He slammed the cell door behind him, which most likely was a violation of some rule somewhere. Not so much as a glance was bothered on Anders as the elf stormed to their small sink, splashing water onto his face.
Anders was feeling lucky today, "Is everything okay?"
Fenris grunted in response, wiping his face on a towel from under his pillow, "My matters do not involve you, I'm turning off the light."
"I was going to read the jail manual here, actually."
The elf was quickly poised at the side of the bunk as if he might attack, his green eyes aflame and shining like a cat's, "I'm turning off the light now."
"How about five minutes at least?"
Fenris turned back, slowly, "Are you so ignorant you are unaware as to how this all works?"
"I just think if we're going to be sharing a room and all we should be able to compromise on some things… at least let me read the foreword of this thing."
"You think you're so special with your manual? Mocking me?"
"I'm not mocking you," Anders shook his head but the conversation was over and the lights were off. The films he had seen spoke to him, told him to fight for himself and not back down. But perhaps it wasn't worth it. Instead he laid his head back onto the hard pillow, and tried to will sleep to find him.
And it did. It met him with radical ideas, it analyzed his day and everything that had happened and prompted him with what he should have done differently. But more importantly it let him dream and escape - he always loved dreaming. He found himself free, in a world without oppressive regimes and instead with friends and loved ones.
There were cats too. Lots of cats.
But it was a dream that let him feel safe and ignore his surroundings. Fenris didn't snore in the night and it was nice to be surrounded by the quiet. The morning came and it was clear there was going to be no such thing as sleeping in anymore. Everyone awoke with a buzz of the doors. Fenris was quick to rise, not waiting for Anders to follow or even wake as he took his towel and shampoo bottle out of the room.
Anders took his time to stretch his legs out and rub his eyes. The ground was cold and he found himself actually yearning the hideous shoes he had been given. He didn't have any cleaning products with him, but he had a towel and that was enough to at least cool off with. Without a guide he was on his own to figure out where the showers were, but the line of men cramming into one area was easy to spot.
He waited patiently behind a rather large Qunari. Some of the men began stripping in line and Anders couldn't help but assess them as they moved forward. Everyone was rather well-built in prison, without much to do most of the men have devoted themselves to the weight room. The beard walking past him was unmistakable and Hawke yawned loudly while moving in front of several people, to the head of the line without so much as a question from anyone.
"Isabela's coming today, right, Hawke?" An eager elf was biting his lip behind Hawke.
"Yes," Hawke grinned widely, "Isabela is coming to visit everyone."
Several people broke out into smile at that news and Hawke began to strip down. His body was strong, hairy and scarred. There were several strange cuts near his wrist and throat but most men here had been in violent fights it seemed, so perhaps it wasn't so unusual. The line moved as several men exited, Fenris in particular.
"There's still warm water?" Hawke called to him.
"Maybe if you woke up quicker you'd always know for sure."
The man scoffed, but he seemed to be in a much better mood as he entered the shower hall. There were no guards, in fact there were no cameras either, only a heavy shrouded steam that covered most of the men, save their faces, as they stood above the faucets - the only ones who were comfortable with the setup were the dwarves.
"Can I borrow some shampoo?" Anders figured it safe to ask Hawke of all people.
He was quickly handed a bottle from somewhere else instead. The large Qunari that he had been waiting behind smiled widely.
"Oh, thanks," Anders looked up at the friendly man, taking the fresh bottle that the oxman probably didn't need anyways.
Hawke swiped it from his hand, giving it back to the Qunari, "He's not interested, Bull."
Anders turned, offended, "Excuse me, but-"
"Here, use mine," he produced his own bottle for Anders hands, "you'll owe me, but at least it's better than owing him."
"Why does it matter who I owe? You're not my boss."
"I'm looking out for your best interest," Hawke smiled as he pressed the gel into his hair and began spreading it around, "you said you didn't want to be a whore, so I'm making sure you're not going to be a whore. A thanks would be nice."
"I…" Anders looked around the showers and at the faces of the men eating in his body. He felt exposed as he raised his arms to shampoo his own hair. Maybe Hawke was right, and at least he was a human and looking out for him rather than a different race, "Yeah, thank you."
"You're welcome," he grinned. He turned again and began soaping himself down with a yellow bar. Once more he handed it to Anders when he was finished, Hawke couldn't help laughing when it exchanged hands, "Don't drop it now."
"Real mature, Hawke," Alistair peaked over a shower head across from them.
"Aw, thanks, Stairway," he looked up to watch the reaction.
"You're a piece of shit, you know?"
Hawke grinned as he cupped the water to run it down his balls, "Ah, I know, one day I'll be shanked in my bed."
"Exactly."
The shower was, for the most part uneventful from that moment on. Just men cleaning themselves and moving forth with their lives, but there was still a moan here and there. Mostly from personal stimulation, which no one batted an eye towards, but Anders could have sworn to see someone on their knees at one point or another - he didn't dare to stare. Regardless it was most likely a factor of his paranoia.
And then the waiting game began. There was poor food once more. Pointless bickering. Card games in which he lost horribly. Eventually Hawke was called down for his visitor, but the clock kept ticking and worry ate at Anders. Worry that Justice had forgotten or couldn't afford the ride.
As he was about to fold on another game his name was read over the loudspeaker. And if he didn't jump with excitement no one would tell him. He needed to ask directions for the visitation room, but he found it easy enough. People sitting at tables, some laughing, some stern, some crying. But all were men from the prison and their loved ones. There were two sunken couches sat in front of a television running kid shows where three elven children played. But other than that the room was fairly simple.
Anders scanned the room before entering, getting distracted by the majesty that was the vending machine lit up in the corner. But then he saw the face. Justice's. He couldn't help but stand there and watch as Justice played with his fingers in anticipation just like he had that whole day. Eager to run into the man's embrace, Anders moved, but he was stopped for a brief moment yet again by the sight of Hawke.
Surrounded by four people the man sat with a young, dark skinned woman on his lap. He openly enjoyed this contact, vocalizing his delight with her as she shook her body on his leg, practically dry-humping him. The only other boy accompanying the group slapped Hawke's wrist, angried. He looked similar to Hawke, but was clean shaven. It was clear they were brothers at least.
Anders' head turned as he watched Hawke slip his hand into Isabela, she moaned loud enough for several heads to turn. Feeling awkward for watching as much as he had, Anders entered to greet his visitor.
"Justice!" He fell into those arms and those arms wrapped back around him.
"Anders it's so good to see you," his voice was muffled by the collar of Anders' shirt.
He sat down with Justice at the table, unable to contain his emotions, "I'm so happy you're here," his voice cracked like a prepubescent boy as he choked on emotions, but Justice didn't mind, merely smiling like his son needed.
"I know I'm not the best parental figure but you know I'd do anything for you if you need it."
Anders looked at Justice, wanting so badly to touch him again to know it was really him, "It's been so long already, of just being carted around and thrown in different cells."
"Well, now you have to tell me everything."
"Of course! Maker's breath I need to tell you about this morning, it was -" he stopped, noticing Justice's attention was caught on something else. He turned as well.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, we need to do a search again," Officer Cullen was standing awkwardly next to Hawke's table.
"What is the meaning of this?" Hawke lowered his gaze.
"Oh it's fine, baby," the woman leaned into him, pressing her body firmly against Hawke's chest, "of course I'll put on a show for this man."
"I fucking love you, Isabella," Hawke growled, still staring lovingly, one of his other visitors made a disgusted noise and the anger was back, "Carver do you have a problem with Isabela? I swear, one of these days -"
"Hey! No fighting while mom is here," the other female spoke up, confirming that the other three people at Hawke's table were family.
"Sorry, Bethany," Hawke mocked, illustrating himself as the older brother, "Sorry, mother."
"Be nice," Isabela swatted at him as she stood.
Office Cullen rubbed his hands awkwardly, "Sorry, some people up front just think they saw something and we need to check. Spread your legs please."
"Oh, shame on you," Isabela looked into the man's eyes, "only Hawke can talk to me like that."
His blush reddened up to his ears as Officer Cullen coughed something in his throat. The woman began to giggle as his hands brushed her down. Her clothing couldn't have been acceptable in any setting let alone a jail full of horny men: low cut shirt, belly out in the open, booty shorts short enough to be considered Maker knows what. She swung her hips as he brushed down her thighs.
"Oi! Stop it!" She laughed like a schoolgirl, "You're tickling me."
He moved his hands away, abruptly, "You're clean, she's clean… I, um," his face was a flamed red as he pulled away, "Sorry for that…"
"You should be," Hawke was loud, boisterous, "how dare you question daddy's little princess."
Anders turned his head away immediately after overhearing that line, Justice couldn't contain his interest, "They just allow that? You know the system needs to be remodeled when a girl can walk in like that."
"A lot of the guys don't see women very often, or get to touch them," he felt himself recounting Varric's words.
"That's why there's all that prison rape - sketchy stuff," Justice took note of Anders' unease, "Hey! But enough about that, let's talk about you!"
"Why don't we talk about you instead? My life is on the boring and sad side right now," he tried to stay positive around Justice, better not to give him much worry as he's all alone now.
Justice clucked his tongue thinking of something to say, "Well, the girls at the shelter are trying to prepare a care-package for you."
"I bet Lirene is the one who started that, Maker bless her."
"Oh, and to kick off the millions of care-packages I'm sure you'll get," he handed a small cardboard box to Anders, "I got it approved before I walked in since your commissary won't come in for another week… Karl put this together and dropped it off for you, I tried not to look but they searched it when I got here, so I apologize."
"Don't apologize," Anders' face lit up like it was a Year's End festival gift. Karl always knew what to get him. The box had several books: Feminism Is for Everybody, Savage Inequalities, The End of Poverty, Teaching to Transgress. It was the social justice warrior's dream reading list. Anders paged over each book, they were brand new and even smelled like a book store.
"I won't lie, when you're done with the Jonathan Kozol one, I want to borrow it," Justice took up one of the books while Anders searched the rest of the box.
There were three magazines included, each from Anders' favorite: Men's Health. He wasn't particularly interested in fitness or diet, but the pictures were nice to look at, and the articles weren't poor either. The box continued to reveal a package of chapstick, a moisturizer Anders had always stolen from Karl in the past and a heavy bound journal with a note inside.
"He says he wants you to write him everyday what happens in that journal. Karl is a good guy, you know?"
Anders blushed, still unused to openly talking about his boyfriend with Justice, but it was true. Karl really was the greatest thing to happen to him. Anders shook his head, "Justice you need to talk to Karl and tell him how amazing all of this is, really."
"I will, of course," Justice began playing with one of the chapsticks, "he says he's coming to visit me every week, to check on me. He even asked if he could pay my rent each month - I said no, naturally. I told him he should be checking in on you."
Now Anders was acting like a schoolgirl, "He did all that? That is so like him, you know, he always asks about you."
"I think he wants to take care of me for you, and it's appreciated."
"Well, I do worry everyday about you. Who will do your laundry?"
Justice grinned, "I'll live. Hey, I'm sorry I don't have any fancy gifts for you or anything. I'm doing the best I can to get enough money for your commissary."
Anders shook his head again, "Justice you really have done more than enough - this is all my fault and I don't want you to pay for my mistake."
"No, I'm supposed to support you and I will. It'll all be okay," Justice rubbed his hand on his chin, "I'm actually applying for a job this week."
"That's great!" Anders began piling his items back into the box, "Where?"
"They have a spot open down at one of the clubs, they need a bodyguard."
"Are you sure you'll be okay with that, you haven't been very active as of late."
"I know, I know," he brushed the concerns away, "I just need to do something to make sure you're okay."
"Justice, I don't know how many times I can say I'm sorry, but I'm really, really, sorry."
He smiled, "It's alright, Anders."
"Five minutes until all visitors will be asked to leave."
Justice looked up, "I should probably go and call my taxi before everyone starts running for the phones. Remember, as soon as that money comes in I want you to call me every week, we'll have a nice little chat like a normal family."
"Oh of course, but don't you dare give me any Survivor spoilers."
"Better yet, I could watch the show and tell you what's happening over the phone, you always love my descriptions."
"Well, it sounds like a plan then," he felt warm, happy, excited for the first time in a long time. Before Justice was even half way out of his chair Anders lunged for him, hugging him as if he might never get the opportunity again.
For his part, Justice cupped the back of Anders' head affectionately, playing with the loose ponytail, "It'll all be alright, Anders, I'll always be here for you."
Their embrace lasted longer than either of them had expected, and that was good for both men. Anders stood a moment more as he watched Justice leave, off into the real world. Hawke was ending his visit as well, with one crying old woman, an annoyed brother, a horny girlfriend, and a talkative sister. The man had his hands full it seemed.
"Ma' it's going to be alright, I'll see you next week."
"I know," the woman stifled her tears, "I know, darling, but I just get so upset thinking about you living here, we are just so, so proud of you, you know?"
The sister held her mother upright, "We really are, Hawke, you look so good and healthy. Ten years clean! Does it feel nice?"
"It feels great, Beth," he smiled with all the confidence in the world. All criminals could lie, some better than others - Hawke was the king. He grabbed Isabela harshly around the waist, "You better behave yourself, Missy!"
She squealed as he dug his beard into her breasts with kisses. Anders watched with awe as the man bit onto a plastic bag hidden deep within the woman's bra. It was heavy with an ample packaging of loose powder cocaine. How she hid it was beyond him. The man continued to sneak the bag out of her chest and into his mouth, - swallowing loudly as she continued to giggle.
Not even his own mother noticed.
I am having so much fun with this story! Hope you're all enjoying it too. I have a lot of plot points that I am going to get through... I know we're all here for Fenders and IT WILL HAPPEN but like all Fenders fics we need that agonizingly long build-up to those two. It shall happen though, I promise.
For now if you enjoyed please comment and keep me going! I hope to be updating more frequently but these chapters keep getting longer and longer so stick with me and we'll keep having fun! XD