Krit (onyxmoonstone) wrote in benj_loves_tony,
Krit
onyxmoonstone
benj_loves_tony

You Know What They Do To Guys Like Him In Prison

Title: You Know What They Do To Guys Like Him In Prison
Pairing: Tony/OMC-noncon Slight Tony/Benji
Rating: R
Summary:
Based on true recent events.
AN: I had to. Sorry. My other fic will be updated soon. Promise!


        Tony shivered in the corner of the small jail cell. He was fucked. He had been arrested before, but nothing like this. This was big. He was fucked. Bail was set at a million fucking dollars. Not even the Madden twins could get him out this one. Benji. He wondered if the older man knew what had happened. It had to be all over the news by now. And all over the internet. He wondered what Benji thought. If he was on his side or if he thought Tony had just fucked up again.

        He wasn’t sure how he had gotten to this point. Things had gotten so out of control. They were just yelling at each other. That was all. Wayne was screaming at him and he was getting pissed off and shouting back. Sara was yelling at them both, trying to get them to calm down. The cops showed up and it was ok for a while. Until later that night. Down in the parking garage. Punches were thrown. Before he knew it, Tony was on his back with Wayne on top of him, his hands around his neck. Tony tried to push him off, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He scrambled to reach into his pocket for the knife that Matt had given him when he decided to move to LA.

        Stabbing Wayne was a blur. He remembered the feel of the blade going through the bone. The loud cry that came from Wayne’s mouth. He barely remembered stabbing him again. He pushed him off and sat up. Sara was screaming. She was right there but she sounded so far away. He looked down at his hand. His knuckles were white from gripping the knife so tightly. There was blood on his hand. Red and sticky. Someone else’s blood. He was shaking. He couldn’t make it stop. He didn’t even hear the clang as he dropped the knife and looked at Sara. She was kneeling next to Wayne with her hands on his chest, trying to stop the bleeding.

        “Give me your phone.” He didn’t even recognize the sound of his own voice. Sara almost didn’t hear him because she was sobbing so loudly, her cries echoing through the garage. She pulled out her cell phone and gave it to him. Her hands were covered in blood too. He took it and dialed 911. He was on auto pilot when the cops and medics arrived. He watched them load Wayne into the ambulance as handcuffs were clasped on his wrists. He used to like handcuffs. But only the fuzzy kind accompanied by Benji and chocolate syrup.

        He barely noticed that he was talking to the police. Didn’t see the news cameras. The ride to the police station, his mug shot, getting finger printed, all of it. He barely noticed any of it. The jeers and cat calls as he was led to his cell seemed muffled. It wasn’t until the guard shoved him in and locked the door that the reality of it all hit him. He collapsed on the floor and just sat there, with his head in his hands.

        A few hours later, he heard someone calling his name. He looked up and saw some punk kid in the cell across from him. Maybe eighteen, nineteen years old at most. Bright blue hair and a tattoo that looked like it was still healing.

        “It’s really you.” The kid said, amazed. “What the fuck are you doing here? Get caught with pot on you or something?” He had a genuine smile on his face and his eyes were shining as if he was staring at his hero. Tony forced a half smile and shrugged.

        “Or something.” His throat was raspy. He hadn’t had anything to drink all day and had spent a good few hours screaming. Not to mention the not so fun choking. The kid kept talking. He dropped the subject of Tony’s crime and went on to talk about how he got busted for drunk driving. How he couldn’t believe that he met Tony, especially in jail. Then he got started on the Mest concerts that he’d been to, and how the band kicked ass and how upset he was when they split. He wasn’t upset that Tony didn’t say much of anything. He was happy that the older man was there and listening. He was young and naive. All things considered, the boy was still innocent.

        A few hours later, the boy had gone to sleep and Tony was on his cot, staring at the ceiling. He heard the door to his cell open and looked over to see a man twice his size, who looked like he two was in for murder. Though Tony had the sinking feeling that his new cell man had fully intended for the  person he killed to die a slow and painful death. And he was a skinhead. Lovely. Tony remembered the skinheads that he was friends with as a kid. Evil fucking bastards. Those memories were things that he had tried long and hard to repress. These were not a group of people you wanted to fuck with. The other man looked down at him with a look on his face that was a cross between amusement and disgust. Not a nice look. Tony already began to brace himself for the pain that he knew was going to come.

        “So they had to lock me in a cell with some little punk bitch, huh? Is this a punishment or a gift?” He sneered, showing his crooked teeth. Tony took a deep breath and sat up. He tried not to look him in the eyes.

        “Sorry man.” He mumbled. A chill ran down his spine as the older man chuckled.

        “Don’t worry about it kid. I know how to make the best of things.” He stepped closer to him and Tony tensed up. This was not going to be good by any means.

        He didn’t make a sound as he felt the first punches drop. He barely whimpered as he fell to the ground and his cellmate’s feet connected with his side and stomach. But when he was picked up by the collar of his shirt and shoved onto the bed, that was when he began to make noise. A lot of noise. Soon, he was sure that his nose was broken. He was positive of it as he was rolled over and his face was shoved onto the cheap mattress. He struggled and shouted as he felt his pants being tugged down He couldn’t stop the sharp cry that fell from his lips as he was being torn apart from the inside. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. By some small mercy of some benevolent god, he soon passed out.

        The next morning he woke up and got dressed, trying so hard to ignore the pain that raced through his body. His cell mate was still asleep when the guard came over and unlocked the door.

        “Lovato. You’re out. Charges were dropped. You’re free to go.” He opened the door and moved over to let him out. Tony just stared at him for a moment before bolting out of that cell as fast as he could. He looked into the cell across the hall and saw the kid that had been talking to him the night before. He was wide awake. His eyes dulled and his face overtaken with shock, fear, and something Tony couldn’t quite recognize. He had heard what happened. He knew. He wasn’t so innocent anymore. Sorry kid. Tony thought. Welcome to the real world. He pressed his hand against the boy’s bars and nodded, forcing a smile before he walked away.

        He stepped outside. Into the light. Back into the world. He saw a black car waiting in the lot with a familiar face staring at him. Benji. He was leaning against the car shaking his head and smiling.

        “You really know how to get yourself into trouble don’t you? Need a lift?” Tony raced over to him and wrapped his arms around him. Benji’s smile dropped a bit and he held him for the first time in too long. “Are you alright?” He murmured, breaking out of the hug and looking into Tony’s eyes. Tony was sure that he knew something more had happened. But he also knew that neither of them would say anything about it.

        “Just take me home Benj.” His voice was barely a whisper. Benji nodded and pecked his lips before they got in the car. Tony wasn’t ok. Nothing was ok. But things were definitely looking up.
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