[summary] — Percy/Oliver (mostly platonic) [Prison!AU] He had thought he'd managed to escape the expectations of his family, to escape this inevitable outcome, but apparently not.

A/N — Thank you, Carmen, for beta'ing :)

[1200]


A guard directed Percy through the security checks, but his mind was elsewhere. He had thought he'd managed to escape the expectations of his family, to escape this inevitable outcome, but apparently not. He'd tried all he could to distance himself from them; got a job at the Ministry, worked his way up through the ranks quickly, and yet still he found himself here.

The guard gestured again, impatiently this time, and Percy sighed, picking up the bedroll assigned to him. The orange jumpsuit he'd need to change into reminded him of just how badly he'd failed.

"Hi," the man in front of him said, glancing over his shoulder to throw a grin in Percy's direction. 'How's it going?"

"Great," Percy drawled, aiming for as much sarcasm as he could possibly inflict in the single word.

The man just laughed in response. From anyone else, it might have sounded mocking, but he seemed genuinely entertained. Probably insane, Percy decided firmly. No one could be that happy to be here.

"Oliver, by the way," he said with another grin. He held out his hand as if to shake, but dropped it to his side at the short, "no touching," from one of the guards. Oliver gave a one-shouldered shrug as if in apology.

Percy hesitated for a moment, then, somewhat reluctantly, said: "Percy." If nothing else, his family had instilled in him decent manners — his mother's doing, of course, and often ignored, but Percy did like to at least pretend he'd been raised to be civil.

"What're you in for?" Oliver asked. Were people supposed to ask that? Percy had always thought there might be some secrecy to it; at least, he'd hoped he could keep that information to himself for a little while. When the pause had carried on for a little too long, Oliver added: "Drugs."

"No," Percy snapped, "I would never -"

"Uh …" Oliver scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, "I meant me. 's what I'm in for."

Percy could feel his face flushing a deep red, the heat spreading from his ears to his chest. "Oh," he muttered. Snippets of thought ran through his head – maybe that's why he was so happy? maybe he didn't have anywhere else to go? maybe everyone he knew was already inside? maybe – before he realised that a lot of those thoughts could apply to himself, too. And besides, it was rude. His mother had raised him better than that. He deliberately ignored the no she didn't that ran through his mind.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want," Oliver said eventually, adding another one-shouldered shrug.

"Theft," Percy said. Not quite the whole truth, but it was what it boiled down to. Skimming money from the top of Ministry funding to add to his meagre savings and go towards his rent … Percy shook his head; if he'd known he was going to get caught, he'd have taken more.

"Really?" Oliver asked. "You don't seem the type." Percy looked the other man up and down, noting his well kept hair and nails, clear skin and white teeth - "Yeah, okay," Oliver said with a brilliant smile, "I get your point."

They spent the rest of the walk down blank corridors, all with the same impersonal feel, in a comfortable silence. Or, as comfortable a silence as their current situation could afford.

One of the guards pulled out a large ring of keys. Not large as in the old-fashioned prison keys – the kind Percy wouldn't even admit to himself that he'd secretly wanted to see – no, Puddlemere Penitentiary was far too modern for that.

Not modern enough to have any sort of clear system, Percy noted, as the guard had to root through the masses of keys – all looking uncomfortably similar to regular house-keys – until he found the right one and fitted it into the lock.

"You're in here," he said, "until you're assigned a permanent bed." Percy didn't particularly like the sound of that, but Oliver grinned and said a quick, "Thanks," as he walked past the guards and into the small room.

There were four bunk beds crammed in, seemingly uncaring for any need of personal space. Percy suspected that had gone out the window as soon as he'd entered the building. Five of the beds were already made; Percy thought that probably meant they were expected to choose one of the three that remained.

"I call top," Oliver said with a wink – unnecessary, in Percy's opinion – and threw his bed roll onto the only free upper bunk. With a sigh, Percy decided he might as well take the bed underneath. The evil you know, he thought; it definitely wasn't because he found Oliver's smile a little comforting, that his apparent need for near-constant chatter might be the only thing available to distract Percy in the coming hours, days, weeks -

"Have you been here before?" Percy asked, seeing the way Oliver made his bed with practiced ease. He wondered if perhaps that wasn't something he should have been asking, but couldn't bring himself to care overly much.

"Yep," Oliver said with a grin. "Repeat offender, me." Then he shrugged. "Better than juvi. At least here people've done shit worth being proud of." Percy didn't bother mentioning that people shouldn't really be proud to commit crimes; look where he'd ended up, after all. "This your first time?" he asked with a leer. Percy's expression must have showed how unimpressed he was at that, because he was quick to add: "Only joking." He raised his hands in the air. "I promise to leave you entirely unmolested, unless you so desire to be … molested."

"I do not."

"Right, well," Oliver said, ever-present grin still firmly in place, "glad we got that sorted then."

"Quite," Percy muttered.

He waited until Oliver was done before he began attempting to make his own bed; it gave him more room to fumble with the sheets.

"Have you never made a bed before?" Oliver asked incredulously after the third time Percy banged his head against the top bunk and stood with muffled curses.

"Not bunk beds," he snapped. "It's different."

Oliver scoffed. "Doesn't explain the mess that is your base sheet." Percy didn't want to say that was because he was used to fitted sheets – they may require a little more tugging, but it was so much easier when you could see what went where – only gave Oliver his best impression of his mother's glare. He had nothing on Molly Weasley, of course, but he did manage to elicit a laugh from Oliver.

"Alright, move aside," Oliver said, accompanying his words with shooing gestures. "But pay attention! I'm not doing this for you again."

"I can do it," Percy huffed, folding his arms across his chest petulantly. He was still a little out of breath from his attempt at wrestling with the sheets, indicating that he most likely could not do it himself, but he wasn't willing to admit that.

At least, Percy thought, he'd managed to make a sort-of friend on his first day. Maybe this wouldn't be entirely terrible.