Good Friends...

Good Friends Will Bail You Out Of Jail...

Who: Geo and Sammy
Where: Skokie, Illinois
When: April 12, 2006.

...but best friends will be sitting right next to you saying "Dude, we screwed up."

Six O'Clock, PM.

This was not how George Williams had expected to spend his evening. Or his afternoon. Or, truth be told, his ever. His eye stung, his jaw was numb, and he was fairly sure his lip was swelling. He could still taste blood, and his ribs ached. The hard, metal bench he was sitting on didn't help matters much, either, but at least there was a wall at his back. He leaned against it, baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes, and glowered at the floor, doing his best to ignore his surroundings.

Easier said than done, when his surroundings were a metal cage, a brick wall and a cold, hard floor. Easier said than done, when the causers of his misery were in the next cell over, and the cell on the other side was a bunch of drunks. Easier said than done when a were's enhanced senses - on overdrive from the afternoon - told him every time someone shifted, paced, moved.

He could hear his cellmate's breathing - and that part was ok. That part let him know that said mate was still alive - which was the whole point of this anyways, yeah? Didn't mean he wasn't gonna get his ears chewed off for this once they were out.

Oh no. Certainly not that. He grumbled to himself, crossing his arms and still glaring at the floor.

Sammy looked out of the corners of his eyes at Geo when he heard the sub-audible grumble from his brother, wincing yet again as he took in the black eye and the split, swollen lip. That…he hadn’t meant for that to happen, honest. He crossed his arms over his chest, stifling the almost sob that was threatening to break free as the action jarred fingers that hurt and he didn’t know quite why; seconds later he uncrossed them again, fidgeting on the bench beside Geo.

Ignoring the pain from his fingers – and everywhere else (he didn’t even want to think about his nose) – he formed his words carefully. “I’m sorry, Geo.” He tapped his arm lightly, one corner of his lip pulled down in a frown. “I didn’t…yeah. Didn’t know that would happen.”

Geo almost snapped at him, but he managed to bite back the snarl in time. He still didn't look at him. "Yeah, yeah. I know. Just...." He sighed, gently touching his lip. His fingers came away bloody. Sammy Williams, relationship guru. There would be no asking him to stop - from what Geo had seen, the kid had done good. Lots of it. He couldn't ask him to stop. But...would it be too much for him to learn a little? Maybe be a bit more sneaky? "Next time someone gives you someone else's phone number, for your sake and mine, find out whether her boyfriend's on the football team, alright?" He waved at his eye. "I kinda need this face, yanno."

He studied Geo’s face for another minute, reaching up and tapping it just slightly, right beneath the black eye. “But now you have…” His shoulders lifted slightly as he laughed. “Pretty colors on your face, though the blood?” He shook his head. “The blood is kind of on the gross side. I could do without it. And I so didn’t know that she was dating someone on the football team, or that he desperately needs to lose weight.” Times like this when he wanted to speak his mind, he was almost glad that he couldn’t talk, and that the only one who understood him and his signing was most likely Geo.

Geo jerked his head back, tilting his face away and looking sideways at his brother under the bill of his hat. He began signing, slow and clumsy. "Do not touch, trust me. Do not let them know you hear, ok? far as they think you are deaf, they might not say as much." Why hadn't the police called their parents yet? He knew how this went. Fighting wasn't bad enough to get arrested for real and then processed, and certainly not enough to actually go any further, so it would ever only be just words, but...still. This was his second time in this jail. Last time had been horrible, but bearable. This time, he had Sammy to worry about...

There was a reason he was pointedly ignoring the drunks.

O...kay. Don't react, and try to understand Geo's signing...he could kind of do that, but not very well. He nodded, though, to show he understood before he began signing again, pointing at the cell that held the scorned boyfriend, fingers shooting with pain. "They know I can hear, though, Geo. Think they'll keep their mouths shut?" He wrinkled his nose as one of the drunks let out a loud belch, shaking his head but not turning in their direction.

"Hope." Geo signed back with a pained shrug. "Stop moving hand, rest fingers. Let me do worrying. K?" He watched for Sammy's reaction halfheartedly, inspecting the cell as he did. His feet were getting cold through his socks - they took his shoes, SOP or something - but that was the least of his worries. The drunks, now, that was strange. When he'd been in here last, it had been late. Ten, eleven. Drunks made sense. Since when did some guy get drunk enough for public intoxication by six? Much less four? He shook his head, and kept looking around.

Sammy wasn't watching the drunks, he was watching the football players and their friends instead. One of them turned to face him, the skin surrounding his eyes turning purple and a dried line of blood trailed down from his nose and over his lips, barely brushing his chin before it stopped. He caught the boy's eyes then tapped his own nose and lips with a shrug, lips curling upwards in a smirk; he'd done that - elbowed him in the nose when he'd gotten too close at the very beginning of the fight. Before the fight had gotten really ugly and Geo had come flying out the doors of the school like the devil was after him.

Geo sighed, catching Sammy's movement out of the corner of his eye. The guy - Mark something-or-other, he thought; one of the freakin' football team's running backs - flipped Sammy off, leaning against the wall. He caught Geo looking at him, and snarled, just a wordless, teeth-bared growl, Geo returned the look, but was distracted by one of the guys in the other cell - the most sober of 'em (he still reeked of booze and sweat) - moving, shuffling towards the wall of his cell. One grimy hand wrapped around metal bars as he leaned his bulk against it, leering into the cell.

"Hey there, kid," His voice was hoarse, raspy - Geo just watched him talk, eyes narrowing dangerously under the bill of his cap. "This your first time in lockup?"

He couldn't help it - he turned to look in the direction of the voice...and immediately cursed himself mentally, turning back to look at Mark. He chewed on the inside of his lip, hoping just maybe the man would think he'd just happened to turn around at the same moment that he'd talked - with each word from the man's mouth he swore the strong, alien smell of alcohol increased in their cellblock. ...ew. Didn't want to think about how much alcohol they had managed to consume that they would reek like that. Sammy firmly pushed the thoughts from his mind, settling for cataloguing the visible marks of the fight that Mark sported - nose, eyes...

The drunk switched his gaze, red-rimmed eyes meeting Geo's. He grinned, almost rakishly, nodding. "It is, innit?"

Geo just maintained the death glare, wishing more than anything that that door would open and his mother would come storming in. He was dimly aware that Mark and the other guys were moving closer on their side, but kept his back turned so he could keep his eyes on mister tall, gross and intoxicated over here.

He recognized the new voice without looking, anyways. Dave. Another football bum - offensive tackle? Something like that. Former boyfriend of one of Sammy's more recent successes. He had a baritone voice - would have been nice to listen to, if not for the words that were making him grind his teeth. "Y'brother's gonna get it, Georgie, you can't protect him forever..."

Geo's eyes flickered. "Shut up."

And now he couldn't pretend he didn't hear. Sammy glared at them all, as if he could stop them all from talking just by glaring at them. Who knows? Maybe he would get lucky and they'd all suddenly just clam up, like Vader from Star Wars was using some kind of Jedi trick on them and cutting off their supply of air - that would be nice. It wasn't likely to happen, but it would be nice and...what were they talking about? Did he even want to know? He looked back at the leering face of the man who'd talked first and swallowed, throat moving convulsively. No, he probably didn't. He turned to sign to Geo again, wishing he could bleach the image of the drunk from his mind. Find a nice scrub brush and just...yeah. "Okay, mama and dad? Can so show up at any time here."

Dave was pacing against the football guys' cell wall, back and forth, back and forth, steps heavy on the floor; distracting; but the lesser of two evils compared to the raving-perv-of-a-drunk. Geo bet he was the ringleader - he was big, he was stupid, and he was an ass. Perfect fit. Not that the rest of the Committee To Beat Up Sammy Williams were noble prize nominees...

"You know what they do to pretty little boys like you in places like this?" The drunk's voice was strangely clear for someone swaying like he was. Geo felt a tremor of rage spark down his spine as he tensed, trying to sit still and bore holes in the man's skull by sheer willpower alone.

"Just ignore them, Sammy." He mumbled, under his breath. Trying to follow his own advice.

Ignore them...right. That would be oh so simple - not. He closed his eyes, eyelashes brushing over his cheeks as he breathed in - and out - slowly, unconsciously breathing the way his mother did when she was meditating. Only thing was, instead of making all the other noises and distractions around the room quiet down, it made everything louder. He heard each heavy step as it hit the floor, and each breath from the one, snoring drunk who lay in the corner. It was unpleasant, but the only reaction it got from him was his eyes blinking open briefly to offer him a glimpse of the cell floor before he closed them again.

This wasn't fair. This wasn't the way police stations were supposed to be. There was something...off, yeah? From the warden sitting in the farthest corner, his nose in his book and earbuds in his ears to the fact that hey, since when is a simple fistfight deserving of getting shoved in the same area as the drunk tank?

Especially with chatty Cathy over there.

He was trying to ignore his words. Really he was. But there was just something so very difficult about ignoring the big, smelly, grimy drunk and the way he was leering. The way Dave and Mark and their cohorts were jeering from the other cell.

"Aw." The chatty one was pouting against the wall, one arm shoved through the bars. "Not gonna talk? Can't talk? That's ok, I can thing of a couple better things you can do with that mou-"

He never got a chance to finish that sentence before Geo's fist hit him in the teeth, his other hand slamming through the bars so far that he felt the bars press into his ribcage - he ignored the fresh pain as his hand raked down the other man's face, leaving four lines of angry, raw red down his cheek, narrowly missing his eye. The drunk went staggering back, but Geo barely noticed, straining against the bars, surroundings dim in his anger. "I.told.you.to.shut.UP!"

Sammy sat in stunned silence until Tall, Drunk and Ugly fell backwards, bumping against the opposite wall, then he was on his feet and back behind Geo, slipping his arm around his brother's waist and pulling him backwards, away from the bars. He didn't even try to sign from that position, blushing from the comments still as he tugged him back over to the bench and forced him to sit down, wincing as he saw that the split lip had started to bleed again. When he was sure Geo would stay seated he stood, fidgeting as he tried to decide just what to do - where he should go. Should he...yeah, he should. He moved towards the door to the cell, then kicked it - he wanted the gaurd's attention.

Geo sat still, but he wasn't calm - he was busy cursing himself out for punching first. If the drunk hadn't already been reeling from that, he would've lost an eye, at least for a little while. No more than he deserved for looking at Sammy like that. For even thinking that. He only sat for a minute before he was up and pacing, slightly gratified to see that Mark and company seemed to shy away from the bars when he was on that side of the cell in his pacing.

He liked the ball cap. It focused his narrow-eyed glares, made them more intense. He threw another Mark-wards, growling, the cap's bill between his gaze and Mark's - Let you guess which of you bastards I'm glaring at.

"Got something else to say?"

Mark shook his head, like he was speaking for the rest of his little posse, putting up his hands and backing up to sit on the bench for the first time since they’d arrived at the station. Sammy stuck his tongue out at the other boy even as he kicked at the base of the door again, metal clanging against metal as it moved just slightly on its hinges. Reacting to Sammy, Mark made a lewd gesture to which Sammy responded by rolling his eyes and looking back at the door again.

Geo had turned just in time to see that last gesture - he practically flung himself at Mark, spitting out a stream of mixed profanity and threats as he strained towards the other boy, eyes narrowed to slits. He was fighting to keep the talons back even as he fought to get at Mark and beat him - or attempt to, anyway - to a bloody pulp. Stress at the situation, sullen resentment at not making it out to the fight in time to keep them from hurting Sammy, and a deep protective rage over that bastard in the other cell's suggestions were clouding his better judgment; but he knew if he let the talons come the fighting-form would not be far behind and that wouldn't end well for anyone.

Sammy was away from the door in an instant and at Geo's side in another. Coming up between the cell bars and Geo was no small amount of trouble, but he did it, scooting into the narrow space, arms working as a wedge to make the space wider. From his position between Geo and the bars he managed to work his hands between his chest and Geo's and push him away from Mark and the others within the cell with straining arms and pain-shot hands. Hands thus occupied with keeping his brother from attempting murder he couldn't sign, but his eyes said it all: Just stop. Sammy had no desire to get stuck in here longer than they needed to, or for Geo to have to stay here for that long either.

Vaguely he noted the footsteps behind him but before he could move away from the cell two arms snaked through the bars, one looping around his waist and the other around his throat - both pulled him back against the bars. Cold metal bit into his back, but still he glared, ordering Geo with his eyes to freaking back up so that he could get the arms to let him go himself. The hand attached to the arm around his waist slid down over narrow hips before a palm pressed against him and a sneering voice broke the deafening, threat-filled silence.

"He ain't got much. Don't see what about him would interest Raquel." Oh for the love of...he hadn't be trying to get in the girl's pants, she was, what, three years older than him?! Dave continued his assessment of the "little punk" who'd made his girl break up with him. "Though he's got all these curls..." The arm around his neck disappeared, replaced by a hand fisted in his hair. "Don't you ever cut this mess?"

Geo's full body twitched, but he took a step back, teeth bared in a snarl; thanking all things holy that he wasn't something with fangs, because they'd be showing now. "Don't touch him," His voice was the same snarl that showed in his face. "Or I swear I will tear your hand off the moment we're out of here."

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think you will,” Dave replied as Sammy went stiff, teeth gritted together; the hand placed lower was distressing him more than the one in his hair. David continued rambling even when Sammy closed one hand around his wrist, nails digging into the soft spot between bones. “See, they’re not going to let us out at the same time. It’d be kind of stupid of them.”

"No kiddin', y'work that out all by yourself?" Geo's face was turning red; he could feel it. "Don't you think I can't find you."

“And don’t think we can’t make sure both of you don’t go anywhere near the other.” The door to the cell was unlocked with those words and a different guard than the one who’d been supposedly watching them came into Sammy and Geo’s cell. Dave slid his arms back into his cell, hissing at the gouges in his skin as Sammy danced away from the bars. The guard sent a warning glare Dave’s way before looking to Geo. “You two ready to break free? Your parents are tearing into my partner, and I need her in one piece.”

"Oh yeah?" Geo rounded on the officer - though this time he was speaking with a little more manners - glaring at him. "Well, you need a better warden." He waved up the hall at mister earbuds with a scowl. "Yeah? So less of these morons get a chance to talk to people."

“Look, I’ll say something about it, don’t tear into me now,” The officer managed, hands up in a defensive position. “Just…come with me. You’re getting out, don’t jeopardize that, alright?” He laughed slightly, waving at where Sammy stood by the door. “Follow your brother.”

Geo did as instructed, pulling off the ballcap and shoving it in his pocket with a slightly sullen glower. But he did shut up, and he was relieved to be out of the cell. He gave the drunk one last dirty look, gloating about the scratches over his eye, and followed.

...the relief only lasted until he saw the expression on his father's face.

Sammy bypassed his father, making for his mother’s side instead as her expression was more welcoming and less “fear me.” She raised her hand and waved for Geo to come stand beside her as well as a female officer standing opposite Fred placed her hands on her hips, expression bored.

"Next time," Fred Williams was growling as Geo hurried to join his mother; most of the bravado melting away now that their parents were here, "Not that there will be a next time, you let them call before you make them spend three hours with who knows who, yeah?"

“Yes, sir. We get what you’re saying,” The officer was having a hard time getting words in, but she was managing to every now and then. “Now, the principal did ask that we tell you he asked us to do this. 'Just keep 'em all there 'til their parents come to sort 'em out," were his exact words. So, consider this our informing you.” Her face was straight, so if she was lying it would be hard to tell, but Sammy had strong doubts about the principal actually telling anyone to do that.

Fred, apparently, had those doubts as well, judging by the way he was leaning into the officer's face. "I don't care what the principal supposedly said, I want you to do your job, or I will drop a lawsuit in your lap." His smirk looked more like a cat's than a raven's.

To Sammy the officer looked quite cowed and meek, holding her hands up in a placating gesture as she nodded. Her partner – the man who had come to get them from their cell – stood by and nodded as well, hurrying to reassure Fred with a friendly grin and an earnest expression on his face. There wasn’t any way that the honest look was just a sham to make Fred feel better and get him off of his partner’s back.

“Yes sir, yes, sir. We get you. We’ll make note of this so it doesn’t happen again.”

Fred's glasses were sliding down his nose, Geo noted as he rested his head on his mother's shoulder, just watching. He pushed them back up, gray eyes flashing. "You'd best make a note. You'd best make ten notes. Your job is to uphold the law, not traumatize my children."

“Sir, we get it, but it wasn’t our fault, do not take it out on us.” His piece said, he tugged his partner back from where she was still standing off against Fred. “You signed the necessary paperwork we don’t have any more reason to keep you all here.” He patted Sammy’s shoulder lightly then headed for a desk in the corner, seemingly to write those ten notes. "You're free to go."

Geo could have hugged the officer. Almost. He settled for straightening his cap so he could actually see him, nodding his silent thanks as Fred stormed out of the office, coat tails flapping behind him. He looked at Laverne, following. "Sorry, mom..."

One arm around Sammy, Laverne held up a hand, face stern but not mad. “No talking right now. We’re going to dinner, so it can wait until we’re at least in the car and out of this hell.” Her tone made it clear that she truly thought this place a hell, and Sammy shivered slightly, leaning against her side.

Geo's shoulders slumped as he loped along beside Laverne, sock-clad feet silent against the linoleum. He craned his neck to double-check that his father had his shoes before he slouched back down, hands shoved into his jeans pockets, silent and sullen but still incredibly relieved.

Laverne squeezed Sammy’s shoulders lightly before she let go, lengthening her strides just slightly to catch up with Geo and put her arm around his shoulders, even though he was taller than her by a good amount. “Are you alright?” She asked, as Sammy moved around them and ahead to walk beside Fred.

"No. Yeah. I dunno." Her arm was warm; strong and comforting, and her accent was soft. He loved her voice. "I shouldn'ta fought, I shoulda grabbed Sammy and got out of there, but I couldn't think." He watched Fred's back; he was talking to Sammy, but the words were soft and muffled. Whatever he was saying was for Sammy alone, and his father was taking pains to make sure he couldn't hear. Stymied in that respect, he turned back to his mother. "I just...I dunno."

Further down the hall, Fred looked at his youngest offspring out of the corner of his eyes, voice soft. "You alright, m'boy?"

Sammy lifted on shoulder, half shrugging as he looked up at his dad. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He held up his hands, several fingers on each purpling and waggled them slightly. “My hands aren’t so great, but his,” He pointed over his shoulder at Geo, “Face and stuff are worse.” He didn’t mention what had happened in the cell, but he thought about it.

"Mmhm." Fred shoved his hands into his duster, Geo's sneakers dangling over his elbow on their laces, graying mustache twitching. He was silent until they were outside; then one thick arm lifted to drape over Sammy's narrow shoulders, pulling him to a stop as Laverne and Geo carried on to the car. "The whole truth, Samuel. Please?"

“What whole truth?” Sammy was terrible at hiding when he was lying and this time was the same as always. He hid his face though by turning it downwards and letting his hair cover it as he fidgeted. “Ask Geo?” When under pressure, shift attention elsewhere, rule one of the Williams’ Brothers. Shifting attention to your brother? Always a good idea, but one that didn't always go as planned.

"Samuel." Fred's voice wasn't angry - but it was stern. "I won't tell anyone. Not even your mother, if you don't want me to."

One thing could be said about Fred, and that was that when he said he’d keep something quiet, he would. Well, that could be said about the Williams’ family as a whole, but at the moment the only thing that mattered was that Fred wouldn’t say anything if Sammy didn’t want him to. He raised his shoulder again in another half shrug, stopping and scuffing at the ground with a sneaker – for some reason they hadn’t taken his.

“There was just…two things, but…yeah, don’t tell mom she’ll get all clingy or something and…” he winced, shaking his head. “It’s not worth it.” His eyes -as he signed- were fixed on the car and his mother and brother. “So, there was a drunk in the cell next to ours, an’…there was Dave, an’…it wasn’t fun.”

"Ah." Fred sighed, squeezing Sammy's shoulders once before letting him go. "Those types." His broad face twisted in a remarkably fierce scowl before he wiped it away, brushing imaginary dust off his coat. "Bastards, the lot of them - don't tell your mother I said that - rabble rousers. They deserve where they are now, and you won't have to deal with them again." And if they lay a hand on you , his demeanor seemed to say I will kill them.

Sammy moved forward enough that he could flop against Fred’s chest and put his arms around his dad, breathing in the familiar smell of shaving cream and pipe smoke, an unspoken question asked. ‘Can we go now? Can we?’

Fred dropped a kiss on the top of Sammy's head, and gave him a playful shove in the direction of the car. "Let's get outta here already." He waited until his youngest child had headed for the car before he turned on his heel to fix the little police station with a long, dark look that brought his eyebrows together and narrowed his light eyes to slits. It wasn't a friendly look in the least - it was the kind of look that promised trouble. And lots of it.

But it was long gone by the time he got into the car.