Cash made good on his word. The next day, he opened all the cells on the block. The prisoners flooded into the hall, eager to stretch their legs and get some space from the other three.
"Be good, kids," Cash said, with a wink and that shitsucking grin Brick hated. "I'll check on you in awhile."
"Looking forward to it, gorgeous," Rocko said But when the guard turned around, he flashed a sly look at Brick. He mouthed one word- 'not'. The heavy door banged shut behind Cash, locking automatically.
"Dibs on this room!" Tina shouted, dancing down the block, arms outstretched so her fingers grazed the bars of the open cells. "And this one, and this one. Oh, oh, and this one too."
Kindle tagged after her, peering into each identical cell. "You can't dibs on all of them. Whaddya need so many for, anyway?"
"Pull that stick out your butt, Spits. You can stay in my crib. This'll be the bathroom...there's the veranda...yeah, my chaise lounge would look DIVINE right there."
"Spits? Is that me?" Kindle asked, ducking into one of the cells to investigate.
"Yeah, gurl! Short for Spitfire."
"You...that's...you just made up Spitfire! You can't give me a nickname for a nickname you just thought up."
"Whatevs, Spits. This last room is for Big and Rocko."
Brick caught up to her, finally. She stood in the last cell on the block, hands on her hips, stance wide. When she saw Brick, she gestured around grandly. The cell looked the same as the rest.
"Thanks," he scoffed. "You get all the other rooms, an me and Rocko are stuck in one?"
Tina stuck her tongue out at him. "You woulda shacked up anyway. Now you got an excuse."
Brick grunted, bent down, and hefted the girl over his shoulder. "If this is my room, that means you're trespessin."
She yowled and flailed as Brick hauled her into the next cell over. Kindle sat cross-legged on an upper bunk. She looked up when they came in, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth.
"Delivery!" Brick announced, and dumped Tina across the other girl's lap.
A week later, Briggs singsonged the same thing as he edged sideways through the door. He and Cash sidled in with a lopsided, lumpy old couch carried between them.
"Ohhhh, my chaise!" Tina said, jumping up to sprawl across it. Cash grunted and dropped his end, causing Briggs to do the same. The couch landed on the concrete with a thump, and a puff of dust billowed up from the threadbare cushions. Tina sneezed.
Cash waved the cloud away from his face and slouched against the back. "Figured this would be more comfortable than sitting on the floor or the shitter."
"Watch your mouth in front of the kids," Briggs said.
"Blow me," Cash said. "Did you remember the clothes?"
Brigg's face lit up. "Oh, yeah! I found these yesterday."
He plucked a yellow and white bundle (after two weeks in Hyperion lockup, Brick thought he might see those colors behind his eyelids for the rest of his life) out from between the couch cushions, held it up, and let it unfurl like a flag. It was a smaller version of the jumpsuits Brick and Rocko wore.
Briggs tossed the first to Tina and retrieved the other for Kindle. "They're for midgets," he explained. "It's about time you had some clothes that aren't boxer shorts."
"I knew it! I knew they were underwear," Kindle said.
Brick saw Cash pull something from his pocket and palm it to Rocko. It crinkled between their hands, and Rocko stuck the object into the folds of his jumpsuit.
Rocko caught Brick's gaze and grinned. "Just cigs. I'll share."
Something transpired across Cash's face: an almost imperceptible tightening, a crinkling at the corners of his eyes. He scoffed. "You want to waste them on your dog, I wont stop you. But that's all for the week."
Cash called Brick a dog again a week later. The four of them had been at mess, forcing down another meal of barely edible pastes, the girls bickering amicably while Brick and Rocko's feet bumped beneath the table, when the dark-haired guard approached them.
"Come on, Rocky," He said. Brick stood, too, but Cash wagged his finger. "Sit. Stay. Good dog."
Brick watched their retreating forms. He saw Cash's hand creep up to rest against the Rocko's lower back, and had a horrifying thought, horrifying because of how innocuous it felt. Wish we were home. But he hadn't been thinking of New Haven. He'd thought only as far as their cell block, to the unit at the end of the hall which he and Rocko shared.
Later, alone in that cell, Brick undressed under Rocko's scrutiny.
"Do you hafta stare at me?" Brick asked, undershirt bunched in his hands, worrying it with a twist of his wrists.
"I do," Rocko said, then whistled low. When he spoke again, it was to sing. "He's a Brick- HOUSE- mighty might, jes' letting it all hang out-"
With an exaggerated eye roll, Brick tossed his shirt at Rocko. It slid down the man's face and into his lap.
"Of course he's stacked, and that's a fact, ain't nothing holding ba...mph!" Rocko persisted, until Brick shut his mouth by covering it with his own, pinning him to the bed in a deep, quelling kiss.
After they parted, Brick planted a trail of kisses down the other man's neck, licking and nipping, until a rush of air sucked between Rocko's teeth made him pause. He'd become familiar with Rocko's noises over the past three week. This was no pleasured gasp, but a pained hiss. Brick snapped alert, pulling away to inspect the younger man's neck. He found a jagged purple ring, a bruised bite.
"It's nothing," Rocko said, reaching up to hide the blotch.
Brick pushed his hands aside and inspected the long slope of Rocko's neck. More of angry welts marred his olive skin, sucked and bitten well past the point of pleasure. Fury cramped Brick's gut. He thumbed the marks with trembling hands.
"Why'd you let him do this?" he asked.
"It's not like I had a choice."
"You said you did. Remember? You said, 'at least I have a choice here.'"
Rocko snorted. "Good retention for a man who loses his pants in a six by eight cell."
"Don't get nasty with me. You said," Brick insisted.
Rocko sighed and reached up to wrap his arms around Brick's broad shoulders, pulling him close. "I'm here now. Please, don't bully me too," he begged against Brick's neck, breaking his heart a little.
"Hey! You making us a baby brother in there?" Tina yelled from down the hall.
"Teeny, that's rude," Kindle whispered furiously. "Besides, I'm sure they're using protection."
They both laughed at that, and their girlish chortles forced an unwitting smile from Brick.
Kindle and Tina often laughed, even by week four. Sometimes at private jokes passed behind their hands, other times openly, usually at the expense of the adults. But sometimes, the best times, they laughed all together.
One day, while the block was unusually silent, Rocko pointed out that the girls' chatter had been suspiciously absent all morning. "Mungojerrie and Rumpleteaser are up to no good," he warned.
Brick paused, mid-sit up, to raise a questioning eyebrow.
Rocko looked surprised. "Mungojerrie? Rumpleteazer? Notorious couple of cats?" he asked.
Brick shrugged. "No idea what you're talkin about."
"Knockabout clowns! Quick-change comedians!" Rocko insisted, hopping off the bunk to wander into the hall. "Tightrope walkers and acrobats!"
Brick rolled his eyes, stood up, and followed him out of the cell. "It's another song, innit?"
"You got it, babe."
Rocko's voice - lovely in laughter, sweetly pleading in bed - was just as pretty in song, turning the nonsense lyrics into something almost magical, belting them out as he swayed down the hall. "They had an extensive reputation, made their home in Victoria Grove..."
A few verses later, as Rocko declared that the two cats had a wonderful way of working together, Kindle's shout finally erupted from one of the cells. "We're trying to sleep!"
"Well, stop trying," Rocko called back, wandering toward the source of her voice. "It's almost noon."
The girl groaned. "Who can tell without the sun?"
"Yeah, we're tired. Get outta here, Queen," Tina added. Brick couldn't into the cell from where he stood, but he saw Tina's pillow hurtle through the doorway. Rocko caught it and tossed it back with a huff.
"Did you just call me a queen?"
"Nah, gurl. Just Queen. It's your nickname."
For a moment, Rocko seemed unsure, but then he smiled. "Because I rule the block, right?"
"Nope. 'cos you're a flaming homo."
The smack of the girls' high-five echoed through the hallway.
"Those kids are great," Briggs said as he bridged a deck of tattered cards. He botched up the shuffle, and one of the cards popped free. It slid across the table and came to rest in front of Brick. A picture of a woman with teased blond hair, body contorted into an uncomfortable looking 'S' shape, baring her tawny ass and tits, looked up luridly from the card's face. Brick flicked it back across the table.
"They think you're great, too," he said.
The girls adored the guards, and not just because they came bearing gifts more often than not (once they brought a handheld game, which drove Rocko crazy with it's bloops and bleeps, and was bickered over constantly by the other three) but also because the guards were kind to them - Briggs, more than Cash - and because all of them had forged a kind of screwed up friendship.
Sometimes, like now, Cash and Briggs slipped into the block in after lights out. They came to drink and play poker by candlelight with Brick and Rocko.
"I'm glad. I like to think that Amy would have been a lot like them," Briggs said. He attempted the bridge again, was successful, and dealt the cards with quick flicks of his wrist.
"Don't start with that," Cash groaned. "Nobody wants to hear you whine. Boo hoo, my baby died, my wife blames me, blah, blah, blah. You're killing my buzz." He took another swig off his beer to fend off any sobriety that Briggs might deliver.
"You know, I wasn't even going to...And you basically told it, anyway. But it wasn't like that. I mean, she left, but not because she blamed me. It was just..." Briggs shrugged. "One of those things."
"Ante in," Cash muttered, pushing in a couple battered chips. They didn't trade out for anything besides cigarettes, and the value depended entirely on Cash's mood.
"I'm out," Rocko said, folding his cards down in front of him. "Sorry to hear that, Briggs. I'll bet you'd have been a great dad. I'm glad Kindle and Tina have you around."
Brick shuddered. Something had been happening over the five weeks since he'd arrived, some subtle slide toward sleep. The comfort of routine and the companionship of Rocko and the girls lulled him into a stupor. Rocko's words roused him briefly. That's wrong, he thought. The girls weren't lucky at all. They were prisoners, all four of them. The guards only seemed like friends because-
Brick blinked, suddenly aware of everyone's eyes on him, waiting to know if he'd fold or ante. He glanced down at his cards.
"I'm in," he mumbled at last, and flipped his chips back into the pot.
Later, in absolute darkness, with Rocko reaching down to guide him, there was no need for Brick to announce when he was in. He could feel the hot clench of the other man around him, could hear the woodwind hitch in his breathe as he was split. Rocko flexed and relaxed, giving Brick permission to move again. They coupled like coiled snakes, mouths meeting fleetingly in the dark. When they finished, they lay back in each other's arms.
"Wow," Rocko said around shaky, post-coital panting. "That was...wow."
Brick chuckled, gathering his partner closer on the narrow mattress. "Don' want'cha to think I'm a slouch in bed. I gotta stack up."
"Mm. Well, you won't have as much competition, anymore." There came the skitch of match being struck, and a flickery red flame bloomed in the darkness. It moved, illuminating Rocko's face as he held it to the cigarette clamped between his lips. He shook out the match with a contemplative hum, sucked a long inhale from the cigarette, and sighed. "I told Cash to fuck off."
"Seriously? When?"
"Couple days ago, after poker. Remember that? He got sloshed and dragged me down to the showers. You were asleep when I got back."
"Yeah...kinda." Brick did remember, but barely. He'd gotten pretty sloshed himself.
"I told him that I didn't wanna do it anymore," Rocko said, and gave a wry, humorless laugh. "Of course, he threatened me and did it anyways, but he hasn't come around since, so who knows? Maybe he got he message."
"He raped you?" Brick asked, aghast.
Rocko took another drag off his cigarette. Brick could feel him trembling, but his voice was steady when he said, "That's such an ugly way to put it. But, yeah. I guess he did."
"Fuck. Goddamn him," Brick swore. "I'll fucking kill him."
"Don't do that. It'll just make things difficult for us."
"Is it cos of me? Issat why you told him off?"
Rocko hesitated. "Not like you think."
"God, I'm sorry. I didn't know, I wouldn't have-"
"Listen, it's not that way. It's just that I hadn't been with someone for love in a long time, so it got easy to do it with the guards, even bastards like Cash. Now it's different. I..." Rocko coughed, then amended, too late. "Like. Not love. Sorry."
"Uh-huh," Brick grinned, watching Rocko squirm by the light of smoldering ashes. "I love y-"
"Don't. Don't do that. You know how you said that you can't share?"
Brick frowned. "Yeah?"
"I can't, either. I can't share you with Mordy."
Brick froze at the mention of Mordecai's nickname. "How...?"
"You say his name in your sleep. It's okay, though. I get it."
Brick didn't know what to say. He burned with shame, feeling his blush as brightly as the cigarette's dying glow, and tried to pull away from Rocko. The younger man caught his wrist.
With his other hand, he jammed the butt of the cigarette out against the wall, plunging them back into darkness. Brick wasn't afraid. He couldn't be, not with Rocko leaning across him, seeking his mouth and finding it, plying him with sweet, shallow kisses.
They went on like that until Brick fell asleep in his arms.
By their seventh week as prisoners, they still kissed every day, but not with the resignation of routine. Every kiss was a fresh delight to Brick. They stood in the hall, holding each other and making out like a pair of teenagers.
From the hallway behind Brick came a great, gushing inhalation. "My darling! Oh, my darling! I have been betrayed!"
Rocko peered around Brick's shoulder, his mouth dropping open in an exaggerated 'o'. Brick rolled his eyes.
"It isn't what it looks like, my love! He means nothing to me!" Rocko cried. He shoved Brick aside; that is, he pushed him as hard as he could, and the larger man stepped in the direction he seemed to be supposed to go, crossing his arms and slouching against the wall between two cells.
"No! No words." Tina sunk to her knees, one wrist thrown across her eyes. "Your betrayal is too much for me to bear! You have killed me, lover. I will perish of a broken heart."
Rocko strutted toward her, arms flung out dramatically. "Curse my foolish whims! We were going to see Paris." He dropped to his knees in front of Tina.
She slumped into his arms, spouting an imaginative string of death gurgles. "Argh, ughghghghgh. Phwah, blegh, oomph. Kay, I'm dead."
"Cruel fate! Is there nothing that can bring her back?"
"A kiss," Tina whispered.
Rocko looked from side to side, feigning shock. "Who said that?"
"This is, uh, Tina's ghost. You better kiss her- Er, me. My body."
"Gross. I'm not going to kiss a dead body."
Tina lost patience and shot up, miraculously revived, to press her lips against Rocko's. Just a peck, but he jolted and scrambled away so fast that he fell back on his butt.
"Whoah, kid," he said, a blush creeping across his cheeks. "That's not in the script."
"You makin' a move on my girl?" Brick asked, grinning and leaning up off the doorframe.
Tina leaped up and danced down the hall, sneakers scuffing and squeaking against the floor. "Oh, Big, I was just playin! I know Queen is your prison bitch."
"Hey," Rocko sulked.
"More like my boyfriend," Brick corrected.
"Gross."
"Boyfriend is gross, but prison bitch is fine?" Brick asked.
Tina ducked into one of the cells, presumably to bother Kindle for awhile. But first she said, "Rocko is ALWAYS foine, Big. You should know that. He's your bf."
Brick had to agree.
A week later, a full eight weeks after their capture in New Haven, Brick and Kindle found themselves unable to agree.
"We've gotta do something!" Kindle said.
"We are doin something! The guards trust us. That's important," Brick said.
"Of course they trust us! We've been model-fucking-citizens for months. Do you even want to escape anymore?"
"You know I do," Brick growled.
"Then let's talk about it, or something, anything. Have you noticed the security keys? The ones that the guards carry?"
Brick knew the keys she meant. He'd seen Cash and Briggs use them to unlock several doors in the prison, including the inner door of their block- just an inconspicuous wedge-shaped piece of metal, about the size of a guitar pick.
Kindle whispered, "I'm gonna steal one!"
"Too dangerous," Brick said automatically, although it seemed like a good move. He honestly hadn't thought about the breakout in weeks. Stealing the chip hadn't even crossed his mind. "You could get caught."
"Yeah, I know, but I gotta try. What else can we do? Just live here?"
Brick almost said, why not? Good as anywhere else. Regular meals, and nobody burning the place around us. But he just shrugged. "What about Teeny? She's got somethin she still needs to do, right? For the, uh...?"
Kindle's fingers fluttered up, formed a knot, then- boom- parted with a flourish. "Bombs," she said, negating the need the the gesture.
"Yeah. How's that goin?" Brick asked.
She shrugged. "She needs some stuff, but it's going, I guess. Not fast enough. You think you could talk the guards into giving us more time at mess? I need a chance to sneak off and find some cleaning supplies."
Brick hesitated. "Fine. I'll work somethin out."
"Good. Cool," she said, and sighed. "I gotta say, I thought you were chickening out. Getting too buddy-buddy with the guards. I was...you know. Scared."
"Nah. We're a team, remember?"
"Yeah." Kindle looked very young, suddenly. Her small hands drifted up to curl through her hair, tugging and twisting, a nervous gesture the Brick had never seen her do before. It made her look just like Amanda at that age, who used to constantly tangle her fingers through her tremendous cascade of curls.
Moved by sudden, urgent emotion, Brick pulled Kindle into a hug. She tensed, but, by inches, relaxed into his embrace, her own arms wrapping around him, and buried her face in his shirt.
Brick pressed his own face against her hair, a thick mop of kinks that looked and smelled like a plume of smoke, to kiss the top of her head.
"Dork," she said, voice muffled against his chest.
"Yeah, yeah," he said, and pushed her away. She wiped her eyes quickly with the back of her hand, and Brick yawned. "Almost lights out. We better get to our bunks of we don't wanna be trippin over our dicks in the dark."
"Kay. I'll get everyone," she said, and hurried into the hall, calling for Rocko and Tina.
Their routine was the same every night. They huddled into one cell to pray - both parts, Amen - then the girls would snuggle into the single bed that the two of them shared. As Rocko backed out of the cell, to the accompaniment of Kindle and Tina's long-suffering groans, he'd sing; "Irene, goodnight, Irene, goodnight. Goodnight, Irene, goodnight, Irene, I will see you in my dreams," and laugh as they heckled him.