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 Author's Notes: Alternate Reality due to my messing with the timeline.
Set approximately around the time of the episode "Out of Time", but takes
some major liberties with the timing and spacing of events. Instead of
everything happening around Christmas, Ryan's friendly little warning to
Miguel after mass about El Cid's return to Emcity happened about a week
earlier. Basically, just assume the events were slightly more spaced out,
some happened earlier, and some things have been postponed to later.
(Usually, the timeline on Oz is kind of sketchy anyway, but thanks to my
luck, everyone in this episode mentions that it's Christmas Eve, Christmas
day, etc. about five million times) 
Later parts betaed by the magnificent and ever so helpful Catheights and
Vix. They helped make it much better. The earlier parts can all be blamed
on me. 
Dedicated to Czeri and Krystal, whose work and theories inspired me. 

  
  Shifting Alliances by sistersleep  

 ~ Chapter 1: Desperation ~

 Ryan lurked in the secluded hall off the infirmary, idly picking at the
food trays he was supposed to be delivering. Waiting. He came to attention
when he heard footsteps coming his way. 

 Ryan had kept a careful eye on the comings and goings in the hospital
ward during his deliveries the last few days. His prey was right on time. 

 Bingo. Miguel Alvarez rounded the corner, and Ryan quickly pushed the
tall metal cart holding the lunch trays into his path, forcing Miguel to
stop short. 

 "What the fuck?" 

 "Hey there, Alvarez. Time for a chat." Ryan casually leaned against the
cart, keeping the hallway firmly blocked.

 "I told you earlier, O'Reily. I don't need any friendly advice and I want
no part of your bullshit." The Latino was quietly simmering, impatient and
hiding his anger just below the surface. So fucking dangerous and
beautiful. All he needed was a little convincing. 

 Keeping a constant eye on Cyril was wearing Ryan down. The game was
taking even more of his energy; he was tired. There was too much risk of
him getting sloppy. He needed backup, and Cyril could no longer be that.
Cyril was the one that needed protection now. Adebisi was growing too
dangerous and unreliable. He could still use Adebisi for the time being,
his ruthlessness would prove useful, but it was time to explore a more
stable alliance. 

 "Hmm...you think I don't know what's going on? I'm not going to just take
El Cid out for you, you're going to have to participate somehow." Ryan
said. He remembered Alvarez's eyes on him when El Cid had told Ryan to
back off the tit trade. He'd known the slick outcast Latino had been up to
something, felt it in his gut.

 Alvarez just looked confused...and still pissed. Maybe the crazy ass
motherfucker really didn't realize what he had been doing. Time for a
lesson in the ulterior motives of men. 

 "You want El Cid gone or you wouldn't have pointed him at me." Step by
step, Ryan inched closer to Miguel, slowly herding him back against the
wall as he talked. "You think I didn't see that smug little grin on your
face when El Cid was telling me, in his oh-so-unsubtle way, to get out of
the tit trade? You know what happens to the motherfuckers that come after
me."

 "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, man. I didn't do shit.
Now move out of the way." Miguel's anger finally bubbled to the surface,
voice turning rough and dark as his eyes focused on Ryan, still and
deadly. 

 Bet he didn't even notice that Ryan was manipulating his movements,
unaware of how much closer they were together.

 "Maybe you need to check in with your subconscious more often there,
hermano." Ryan finally pressed in, words breathed out right into Miguel's
face, Miguel's back thudding against the wall. "You think I didn't feel
the way you pushed me against the wall? That wasn't strictly necessary,
now was it?" 

 Miguel was frozen, fierce eyes locked on his, tinged with defiance...and
something else, all hiding behind that stubbornness. 

 "You think I didn't feel the heat from your hands running over me?" Ryan
leaned in even closer to whisper in Miguel's ear. "I know what you want." 

 Ryan was fucking lonely. Ryan was fucking *horny*. Gloria was untouchable
and driving him crazy. He'd been shut away in this shithole almost three
years, and he was looking at endless more now that his parole was out of
the picture. And now that he was bunking with Cyril, he couldn't even jerk
off in his own bed at night. His brother woke up at all hours with those
fucking nightmares, and that was not a conversation he wanted to have.
Ryan would never have been able to get it up again if that happened. Fuck,
he was so frustrated he was starting to notice that even the puppets on TV
were fags. 

 There was too much risk with Adebisi, and while that cocksucker Timmy
Kirk had been useful in the past when they were podmates, he just rubbed
Ryan the wrong way. Then Ryan had finally noticed Alvarez. He'd been
surprised by the fact that Miguel's hands running over his body in that
perfunctory frisking started that familiar brushfire in his body. There
was just something about Alvarez -- the big brown eyes, the sharp smart
mouth, the cocky strut -- that made Ryan's pulse race and his blood stray
southward.

 "I want you to back the fuck off." 

 For some reason Ryan just didn't believe that statement. Might've been
the heat in Miguel's eyes, or the shaking of his body. Or the fact that he
knew Alvarez definitely had a shank on him, and two free hands, yet he
hadn't made a move.

 "Did you feel powerful and in control, Alvarez? I know you miss it. Now
that you're following that ape faced motherfucker like a bitch. He doesn't
see your potential. I do." When Alvarez still hadn't pushed him away, Ryan
knew he had him. He knew that he had read the Latino right. Ryan teased
one finger down Alvarez's arm, touch light and brief. "A partnership could
work to both of our advantages."

 "Are you high?" There was a hitch in Alvarez's breath; he was confused
and off balance. But Ryan could see it, the slightest little sparking of
possibility within him. Perfect.

 "Did El Cid come up with the idea to muscle me out of the drug trade all
on his own, or did a little Latin birdie whisper it in his ear?" 

 Miguel didn't say a word, but the answer was written on his face. 

 "You wanted me to kill him." Ryan stated, a knowing whisper.

 Again, Miguel didn't have anything to say, knowing it was the truth.

 "It's you or him. He's going to be after blood when he gets back to
EmCity." Ryan decided to start moving in for the kill. "I'd much rather it
be you." He slid his hand down Miguel's side, feeling the hard muscles
tense under his touch, hand coming to rest on the sharp curve of Miguel's
hip. "I can help make sure you come out on top."

 "What the fuck are you doing?" Trepidation, but not fear, was on Miguel's
face as Ryan's full intent finally penetrated. That was another thing that
had drawn Ryan to him, Miguel was confident enough not to be afraid of
him, but he was smart enough to be wary. "You don't fuck with guys." The
statement hid a bit of stunned question in it. 

 Ryan had seen the way Miguel had been looking at him, remembered the
Latino going out of the way to shove him with his shoulder when they
passed on the stairs. He knew there was interest lurking deep under the
surface somewhere.

 "Of course not, everyone knows that." Ryan answered easily, as his other
hand slid up the inside of Miguel's thigh. "I'm just...frisking you."
Finally coming to cup Miguel's dick in his hand. "Huh...looks like I found
something." Half-hard already. Jackpot. Ryan knew it. A firm squeeze had
Miguel bucking into his hand. 

 The rules were different in here, without the options of the outside. The
rationalization was that if two guys got each other off, it didn't make
you a fag. As long as you didn't take it up the ass. As long as you
weren't a prag. He'd already firmly established his rep. That mattered
more to Ryan than who he got off with or turned on by in this lonely hell.
It was all about perception. Bullshitting to cover your ass. Hell, if the
guy whose dick was in his hand didn't believe Ryan was a fag, no one else
would question him. He'd had slight ...indiscretions... in the past and no
one was the wiser. It was all in the way you played it.

 Kirk hadn't been very good at giving head. But Ryan was willing to bet
that Miguel, with that mouth of his, would be something worth
experiencing. The way he'd been working that fucking lollipop while
staring Ryan down. Shit, could he be more obvious? That was not a
coincidence. Miguel wanted him, even if he didn't fully realize it. 

 But Miguel's hand locked suddenly onto his wrist, trapping him in a
crushing grip. Ow. Ryan kept his expression casual and steady, stilling
his movement. When Ryan had been considering his new alliance, Miguel's
strength, speed, and skill in fighting were assets -- just not in this
particular instance. 

 "I'm not gonna be anybody's bitch."

 That was all? That was easily put to rest. "No shit. Lipstick? Not a good
look for you." Ryan said with a grin and dismissive shake of his head. 

 When Miguel was definitely not amused, Ryan continued more seriously.
"Look, I want a business partner, not a fucking prag. And I don't want any
of these scumfucks knowing anything is going on between us beyond that,
got it? But that doesn't mean we can't have some mutual fun in private."

 Miguel looked like he wasn't quite sure whether or not to believe him.
Jesus, the guy didn't believe Ryan even when he was telling the truth for
once. Time for more show and tell. 

 "Tit for tat, hermano. I promise." Ryan whispered as he suggestively
licked his lips and relied on his hand that wasn't in a death grip. Still
resting on Miguel's hip, his thumb dipped below the waistband of Miguel's
pants to rub in provocative little circles on his heated skin. Ryan
watched Miguel's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard, lust burning
bright and unhidden in his eyes now. 

 Miguel finally loosened his grip on Ryan's other wrist. Good boy. Miguel
hadn't broken the contact, though. His hand still loosely wrapped around
Ryan. Ryan wondered if Miguel was aware that his fingers were
unconsciously stroking the sensitive flesh on the inside of Ryan's wrist. 

 One last little bit of reluctance surfaced, even as Miguel gave in.
"Anything that goes anywhere near my ass gets Cut Off." Miguel warned with
a growl.

 "Ditto." He could live without that, although it was a lovely ass. Ryan
had no intention of going that far, and no way in hell would he
reciprocate that. Ryan had expected slightly more resistance. He'd even
planned a whole fucking speech. Oh well.

 Now that he was satisfied, Miguel's hold on Ryan's wrist turned into a
caress, hand slowly sliding over his arm, up his neck, to end up cupping
Ryan's head, pulling him tentatively into a kiss. Now, that was a smooth
fucking move. 

 Just the slightest pressing of lips. Ryan could tell that Miguel was
unsure how he would react to it. Ryan responded enthusiastically,
deepening the kiss, sucking Miguel's lower lip into his mouth. Finally
free to move again, Ryan started to massage Miguel's cock through his
scrubs. 

 Miguel pulled away from his mouth, slightly out of breath. "Wait."

 Oh, for fuck's sake. What now? Maybe he would get to break out that
speech after all.

 "I'm not gonna whack El Cid."

 Ah, back to business. While Ryan realized it was best to hammer out the
details, the Spic couldn't have had worse timing. Thankfully, Ryan had
planned out several courses of action beforehand, so maybe they could come
to an agreement *quickly* and still have time to deal with the ever
increasing ache in his cock. 

 Then Ryan looked at the darkly serious expression on Miguel's face, that
passion banked by worry, and resigned himself to a discussion instead of
the contact he would have preferred. Ryan backed off slightly, taking his
hands off of Miguel completely.

 Ryan kept the desperation and exasperation out of his voice, staying calm
and straightforward. "Fine, we have other options. You were at El Cid's
right hand, sort of. If you told Pancamo and Adebisi that he was trying to
fuck them over or he was holding out...they might get angry. Add in a
little worry about him starting to lose control of El Norte and they might
start looking for a new partner who could step up and lead." Ryan stared
pointedly at Miguel, leaving no doubt as to who he thought should take
over the reigns. "Adebisi will back you." Ryan would make sure of it.

 "You're serious?"

 "Do I feel like I'm kidding?" Ryan leaned back into Miguel, causing him
to gasp as Ryan's hardening cock rubbed against him. It still didn't
dissuade the Latino from the conversation. And while an ability to stay
focused on business was technically a plus, it didn't seem like it to
Ryan's dick at the moment.

 "Everybody thinks I ratted them out and got them caught with tits, even
without El Cid they're not gonna follow me." 

 Miguel wanted it. All of it. He just needed a little coaxing to admit it.
"Ah yes, but you didn't rat them out."

 Miguel interrupted. "No, you did."

 Ryan shrugged it off and continued. "We'll find a scapegoat, clear your
good name. We've just got to keep it quiet that you're the one that talked
to Adebisi and Pancamo. I'll figure out something to show your loyalty and
ability, and you can step back in to lead. Guerra's the only one that
really has a problem with you besides El Cid." Ryan tried to make Alvarez
see that it would work, putting all his concerns to rest.

 Alvarez looked slightly awed that Ryan had thought things that far out,
but also conflicted as doubt started to creep back in. "I'm not like
you...I'm not going to turn on my people."

 Alvarez's loyalty, a double edged sword. But in the end, the positive had
outweighed the negative. While it was something Ryan didn't personally
possess, it had contributed to his decision to pursue Miguel, because it
could be used to his advantage. 

 Ryan already knew that Alvarez wanted El Cid gone, he was just having a
hard time admitting it to himself. Ryan had no problem justifying it for
him. "You wouldn't be betraying El Norte, just El Cid. And that fucker
turned on you already. He was going to let you rot in solitary for
blinding Rivera. But if you hadn't done it, he would've killed you
himself. He's wanted you gone from the start. He just needs an excuse, and
now with you being the only one to walk away from the drug bust, he's got
one." Ryan used his best coaxing, convincing voice, while he quietly hoped
Miguel didn't focus on Ryan's part in that last bit.

 "You have an answer for everything don't you?" Miguel was resigning
himself to the situation, admitting the truth to himself.

 "Of course." Ryan answered with a quick and easy predatory grin. "You
satisfied for now?"

 Miguel still looked troubled, but Ryan knew he had finally broken him
down. "No." The quick irritated answer had no weight behind it. It didn't
mean anything, and they both knew it. Miguel had made his choice, he just
wasn't happy with it.

 "They're getting out in a few days, hermano. It's decision time." One
last knowing prod. Ryan needed him to make a firm commitment.

 "I know." The words were barked out, short and angry. Backed against the
wall in more ways than one, Miguel was just putting up a token struggle
against fate. It was futile. "Fine. You got a deal." 

 Miguel held his hand out to shake on it, a man who stood on ceremony.
Ryan took his hand firmly, the strong, rough grip quickly over. There were
other ways Ryan could think of to seal the deal, but they didn't have time
for that anymore.

 "The king is dead. Long live the king." Ryan's grin shone bright and
wicked now.

 Miguel just snorted. "You gonna stop blocking the hall with your horny,
skinny white ass now?" 

 Oh yeah, this was definitely going to be interesting. Ryan stepped back,
chuckling, hands held up in mock surrender. "We'll talk more later."
Ryan's eyes raked over Miguel's frame, promising more than talk.

 Miguel stood stonily under his scrutiny for a second before walking past
him. 

 The smooth cocksucker purposely rubbed lasciviously against Ryan, bumping
far more than shoulders as he passed. A firm brush of heat. Showing that
he definitely wanted Ryan, no matter how well he had kept it hidden. 

 He turned around to point at Ryan as he continued walking, backwards.
"And stop fucking calling me 'hermano'."

 ~ Chapter 2: Negotiating ~

 Miguel finished out his shift and returned to Emcity. His mind was still
reeling from his encounter with O'Reily in the hall. What the hell kind of
trouble had he attracted now?

 Back in Emcity, O'Reily avoided him as usual. O'Reily was slinking
around, conducting his business. And now Alvarez was involved with the
devious fuck. But Miguel didn't have much of a choice and O'Reily had
known it.

 Miguel was worn down, still messed up from his interaction with Rivera.
Stress and grief were pushing in on him from all sides. That familiar
claustrophobic feeling of being trapped was building up in him again,
pushing him to the brink. 

 Now all this shit with that motherfucker El Cid was coming to a head.
He'd been trying to avoid it, keep to himself, pull away from that
entanglement, but it was impossible. He couldn't escape any of the pain or
danger surrounding him. Of course a shark like O'Reily had smelled the
blood in the water. 

 The shit O'Reily had said...it just sent Miguel's brain spinning even
more. Because he'd been right, no matter how much Miguel wanted to deny
it. Deep down, Miguel had wanted El Cid dead. And he knew crossing O'Reily
was a good way to end up in a pine box. But Miguel hadn't wanted to admit
any of that to himself. 

 Miguel *was* the one that had brought up O'Reily cutting in on the tit
trade. He'd gotten El Cid angry about it, ready to do something stupid.
Miguel had nothing to lose, or so he'd thought. The slippery Mick had
managed to turn it against him, of course. O'Reily could spin anything to
his advantage, twist his way out of anything.

 Miguel spent the rest of the day lost in his thoughts until dinner time
rolled around. His eyes went immediately to O'Reily as soon as he stepped
into the cafeteria. O'Reily was serving at the end of the line, dishing
out his usual insults and menace with the food. Miguel slowly moved down
the line, finally coming face to face with O'Reily. 

 He slopped something down on Miguel's tray. "Eat up." Ryan's eyes locked
on his, delivering a message hidden in the usual detached, mocking tone.
"Don't forget to eat slow, digestion is important."

 So Miguel sat, alone, slowly pushing the food around his plate, waiting
for a sign. To play it safe, he didn't eat anything, just in case O'Reily
had prepared it *special* for him. He wasn't stupid enough to completely
trust the bastard, even if he now had to deal with him. Miguel kept his
eyes downcast, keeping a covert watch on O'Reily.

 Ryan finally finished and left the line, strolling casually past where
Miguel sat. He paused just long enough to snatch the apple off of Miguel's
tray and speak under his breath. "Broom closet off the kitchen, five
minutes." 

 The exchange was brief and unnoticed, leaving no one else the wiser.

 Miguel slipped away and now found himself alone in a cold, mostly empty
storage closet. Nothing but a couple of mops and buckets leaning against
mostly bare, metal shelves containing a mix of cleaning supplies. Miguel
waited impatiently, anxious to see what was coming next. The close stone
walls of the room were slowly starting to make him uncomfortable. He hated
small spaces, especially when he was alone.

 O'Reily finally slid in quietly, all charm and sly grin, closing the door
behind him. "Did you miss me, muchacho?"

 Muchacho? What the fuck? "I wouldn't miss you if you escaped and ran to
the end of the earth."

 "Now, now...be nice, ese." Ryan's expression was calm but it had a hint
of hardness to it. "We're partners now. If you want to go it alone, you
can. But you need to let me know now." 

 Ryan's voice was serious, danger ever-present, but it wasn't a threat. It
was a question, a last chance to back out. That's what this meeting was.
Well, that and Ryan probably wanted to finish what they had barely started
earlier. 

 But it seemed important somehow to O'Reily that Miguel be committed. "No
one's forcing you to do anything, and I don't have time for your 'woe is
me' shit. If you're in this, then you need to be completely in this." 

 "What is 'this' exactly? What do you want from me?" Miguel still wasn't
completely sure, didn't know exactly what O'Reily expected of him. 

 "A partner in the tit trade, back up...a gang on my side, quietly of
course." Pointedly focusing on business, O'Reily left the sex unspoken,
even though that was the one thing Miguel was sure the man wanted. 

 Miguel had never fucked with a guy before. He'd kept the thought firmly
from his mind since he'd been locked up here. Miguel knew, no matter what
O'Reily *said*, that Ryan wanted it as part of the deal. He still hadn't
quite wrapped his mind around the shock of that -- Ryan O'Reily, the
straightest motherfucker in here, being hot to get in his pants. If
O'Reily had brought it up when Miguel had first gotten here, he would've
knocked the Mick on his skinny ass just for the thought.

 That was then. This was now -- after about 3 years and too much time
spent in solitary with nothing but the ghosts in his head to keep him
company, after Miguel had tasted a desperation he'd never known before. If
it kept him out of that little room and out of a little box buried six
feet under, he would do it. He'd do almost anything. Even make a deal with
the devil, swim with the sharks.

 And O'Reily didn't want a prag. He seemed to want to keep this as quiet
and hidden as Miguel did. But he hadn't been kidding before, if O'Reily
tried to fuck him, Miguel would show Beecher how it was done and cut the
fucker's dick off. And Ryan had better give as much as he took. Not that
that seemed to be much of a problem, judging by the way Ryan looked at
him, the way he had touched Miguel before. And Miguel had just gone with
it, unthinking, encouraging Ryan. The flow of Miguel's blood automatically
headed south at the memory, surprising him even more. 

 "What about this?" Miguel decided he had to bring up the issue himself,
since Ryan wouldn't say it aloud. Miguel reached out, gripping Ryan's
package, with a slight squeeze to get his point across, before he quickly
removed his hand. He had to keep the smirk of his face when O'Reily
involuntarily moved toward the contact.

 "That's like our optional benefit plan, amigo." Ryan spoke calmly,
despite the heat lurking in his eyes. Amigo? Miguel was now seriously
regretting telling Ryan not to call him hermano. Judging by the amusement
dancing in Ryan's eyes, that was the point. "I meant what I said before."

 Mutual. Tit for tat. Miguel saw the supposed earnestness on Ryan's face,
but he wondered what Ryan would say if he turned down that 'optional
plan'. Miguel realized with another little shock that he still didn't want
to turn it down, any of it. He flashed back to Ryan's hand on his dick,
the brief pleasure it had caused...it had been so fucking long since he'd
gotten off with anyone besides himself. He was more willing to be with
O'Reily than he wanted to be. He'd kissed Ryan, rubbed up against him as
he'd passed, just to hear the hitch in his breath.

 But he couldn't think too deeply about that now, couldn't think about
anything. He'd made his decision...and found he didn't want to back out.
He was tired of running scared, tired of El Cid. He didn't deserve the
shit that guy had put him through; no way was he going to let that
cocksucker waste him. He wasn't going down without a fight. And Miguel
knew, with O'Reily in his corner, he would win. 

 He'd never really needed to be a leader. Never *needed* the power like
some people, although it was definitely fucking nice. It had felt good to
be in charge, but he'd given leadership to El Cid with no problem, feeling
no bitterness. He had been perfectly happy to follow...then the bastard
had fucked him over. It was time to take it all back. Miguel was being
given another chance, a choice this time, and stepping back up to lead was
infinitely better than death or solitary.

 "I'm in." 

 Ryan's quick wicked grin followed his acceptance, and he immediately
moved closer, eyes darkening even further with lust as he spoke just
inches from Miguel's face. "Good. I'll start putting things in motion
tomorrow." And with that, it was clear that Ryan was done with talking.

 Miguel wasn't used to someone being so up in his personal space. Hell, he
was just getting used to being around people at all again. But O'Reily
never seemed to notice personal space even existed. Miguel found he
suddenly didn't mind. After so much fucking time alone, thinking he'd be
that way forever, the chance of being returned to his little gray room
still looming on his horizon, he relished the closeness of anyone. The
heat of another body. He was hungry for contact. But since he had been out
of solitary, there had been no one it was acceptable to touch, no one he
could trust himself with. He wanted nothing more than to press himself
full body into someone else, feel that heat, the solid, comforting
movement of flesh and bone that wasn't his own.

 So he did. Fuck it, O'Reily was the horny motherfucker that had started
this. Miguel closed the scant inches between them, and pressed against
that long, wiry frame. Bodies fitting together, touching everywhere
possible, like he was trying to meld with Ryan. Once he started, he didn't
know if he could stop, he wanted it too much. Miguel didn't realize just
how much he'd missed it. O'Reily didn't pull away; he just smiled, and
writhed with him, grabbing the back of Miguel's head, pulling him into a
deep kiss that burned like that touch.

 Ryan pulled back, licking his lips. "Is that a shank in your pocket or
are you just happy to see me, ese?" Quick return of Ryan's mouth to his
making Miguel forgive the bad joke.

 "Take a guess, tiburón." Miguel had been so wary lately he'd been
carrying one with him as much as possible. And if Ryan was going to keep
purposely annoying him by pretending to speak Spanish and calling him ese
and muchacho every five seconds, Miguel figured he could call Ryan
whatever he wanted. He was amused by the slight tilt to Ryan's head that
signaled he'd had no idea what Miguel had just called him.

 Then Ryan's hand snaked between them to grab his dick, and Miguel's mind
went with it. He couldn't stop the groan or little thrust that followed.

 "Well, this isn't the only thing hard in your pants. I'd rather not lose
anything important, do you mind?"

 He wasn't so sure about leaving himself unarmed around Ryan, but he had
more pressing concerns at the moment. Miguel reluctantly took the crude
shank out of his waistband and set it on the shelf beside him, maneuvering
Ryan as far away from it as possible, continuing the kisses and contact
all the while.

 Miguel may have been straight, but at this point it seemed his dick only
had three requirements: alive, willing, and human. Ryan was all three, as
well as enticingly desperate. And his tiburón certainly could kiss,
pushing any doubts or thoughts right out of Miguel's head, sending
complete control straight to his dick. Keeping him thrusting against Ryan,
seeking more of that delicious sensation.

 *

 Ryan knew he'd made the right choice; his little bit of effort had
definitely paid off. Miguel was hard and insistent, moving with him,
sealing their deal the *right* way finally. Thank fucking Christ. Ryan
automatically moved into the contact, answering the need with his own. 

 Ryan now had an ally that was dangerous, smart, and in his pocket. Just
where Ryan wanted him. Although, right at the moment he was more literally
under his hands, in his mouth and rubbing against him, cock to cock,
sending hot shivers down Ryan's spine. Miguel wrapped around him, rough
and fierce. All that passion Ryan had known was right under the surface,
calling to him.

 Ryan's hips pushed back against Miguel's, insistent and unrelenting. They
gave in to kiss after kiss, Ryan's tongue invading Miguel's mouth while he
rubbed his aching dick against Miguel's answering hardness in a rushing
rhythm. Ryan knew it had been far too long if he could get off just from a
dirty, desperate dry hump in a storage closet, but fuck, the friction felt
so good he just couldn't stop. Spurred on by Miguel meeting his every
thrust. Breath coming out fast and gasping, Ryan tried his best to keep
quiet, muffling his groans with Miguel's mouth. The heat built between
them fast and strong, all rhythm lost in the last burning rush. 

 Ryan bit down reflexively on Miguel's bottom lip as they came together.
Ryan's eyes closed as bright white spots exploded behind his lids. The
stark taste of blood in his mouth as they shared a last kiss, before
pulling away. Such a welcome release after being pent up so long. This was
just what he needed. Miguel was just what he needed. The edge taken off,
now Ryan could go set his plans in motion when he was calm and relaxed for
the first time in ages.

 As Ryan finally managed to pull away completely, he was pleased to see
the stunned, satisfied look on Miguel's face. Everything was falling into
place perfectly.

 ~ Chapter 3: Testing the Waters ~

 Over the next few days, things started to play out just like Ryan had
anticipated. Everyone behaved like he knew they would, the gossip
disseminated just like he wanted. 

 Ryan had learned some new, interesting things in the last fifteen minutes
though....

 Miguel liked it fast and rough, bucking up into Ryan's hand when he sped
up his strokes, making the hottest little grunts when Ryan gripped him
tight. 

 He'd also found out that Miguel was a quick study with very skilled hands
of his own. Miguel had jacked him off slow and sweet, just the right
rhythm to leave Ryan breathless and gasping. Kissing all the while, Ryan
tongue fucking his mouth. Miguel had just taken it, with a hot wet suck on
Ryan's tongue that made him shiver and thrust. It had just proven to Ryan
that he had to figure out a way to get Miguel to move that amazing mouth
southward in the near future.

 Now, they were catching their breaths, trying to compose themselves as
they leaned against the wall next to each other. They were back in the
same storage closet, which was fast becoming Ryan's favorite place in the
prison. 

 "Man, you are one horny bastard aren't you?"

 Ryan just threw him a wicked grin. "You're not exactly up for priesthood
yourself. I didn't hear you complaining about your chastity." 

 Miguel smiled wryly, conceding the point. "Your note said we had to
*talk*."

 Ryan's mind refocused on business now that the pleasure was out of the
way. He pushed off of the wall, moving to stand in front of Miguel. He had
to put some distance between him and Miguel, had to get away from the heat
pouring off of that body if he wanted to stay cool. "You flushed that,
right?"

 Miguel rolled his eyes, voice full of sarcasm as he spoke. "Nah, I passed
out copies. What do you think?"

 "We can't be seen conducting business until El Cid is dead."

 Miguel obviously didn't like Ryan questioning his intelligence, suddenly
growing defensive and agitated. Ryan would have to remember that -- Miguel
was much easier to deal with if you showed him respect. 

 "No shit. Do you think I'm a fucking idiot? I burned it, tiburón."

 "Great, just what we need -- you being sent to the hole for setting small
fires everywhere." Ryan teased, but he carefully kept it joking. Then he
tried to pacify Miguel with an explanation. "I'm just too used to working
with the stupid fucks around here. I know you can handle yourself, amigo."

 That settled him down. And it was actually the truth, Ryan wouldn't have
chosen Miguel otherwise. He needed someone strong and smart at his back
now. Someone who had the potential to become a real partner, now that
Adebisi was unraveling and shifting his goals, and Ryan was straining to
keep it together with Cyril to look after. 

 Meanwhile, Ryan had caught that word again, the Spanish that Miguel said
with a rolling growl. "That's the second time you've called me that --
tiburón. I thought I knew all the interesting words in Spanish, what the
hell does it mean?"

 "Shark." 

 Ryan raised an eyebrow. Crazy fuck, what the hell did that mean?

 "I never really thought about it." Miguel explained, answering Ryan's
unspoken question with a shrug. "I guess it's because you're a cold
blooded predator, one of the best, and you never stop moving."

 The backhanded compliment amused Ryan. So that's what the loco Latino
thought of him. "You stop moving, you die, ese."

 "Some sharks can stop."

 "You watch too much National Geographic. Anyway, what does that make you?
Chum?" Ryan chuckled and broke out into his best slick, dangerous leer
before sweeping in for a quick, rough kiss. 

 Miguel didn't look happy about the chum comment, but he still responded
to the kiss, looking less than pissed afterwards. Ryan switched back to
business before he could get distracted again. He'd planned to do the
talking first, but Ryan had a hard time keeping his hands off of Miguel in
the small space. Plans had changed quickly when he got that skin and that
mouth within reach and business had taken a back seat to pleasure. It had
been far too fucking long since he'd had anyone besides his own hand, and
Miguel was desperate for any contact, even though he tried to fight it.

 But they had shit to discuss now, Ryan needed to update Miguel on their
progress. "Word is spreading as we speak that you weren't behind getting
El Cid and the gang sent to the hole."

 "Who are you pinning it on?"

 Ryan grinned, this was a surprise and he wanted to see if the info
reached Miguel intact anyway. "You'll see."

 Miguel snorted, looking apprehensive. "What about El Cid? How are we
going to take care of him?"

 That bastard was understandably Alvarez's main concern, along with
getting his own name cleared.

 "We're going to get Pancamo and Adebisi to do it for us. We're just going
to *help* things along."

 Miguel was paying attention now, eager to hear the plan. He stayed quiet
and listening, a light sparking in his eyes as he waited for Ryan to lay
out the details. Ryan had decided to let him in on things as much as
possible, a little at a time. Miguel obviously wanted to know how it was
going to unfold. He *wanted* to see the steps ahead. That was good,
promising. If Miguel started seeing things in the bigger picture, figuring
out how Ryan liked to work, he could help Ryan. Miguel was smart enough,
he just needed some guidance. Ryan would have another mind to work with,
which is what he wanted now. He missed the days working with Cyril, missed
someone capable having his back and Ryan needed it now more than ever. For
a while, a long time ago, he'd wondered idly if he could groom Beecher,
but that was lost to him now. It was for the best.

 "The rumors should be spreading soon that El Cid was going to move
against Pancamo and Adebisi. I planted the seeds of El Cid's betrayal in
Adebisi's mind already. Pancamo should be coming around to see you for a
*chat* to get the real info."

 Miguel looked a bit taken aback...and the slightest bit amused. "The
fucker's going to try to intimidate me, isn't he?"

 "And you're going to let him."

 Ryan knew Miguel didn't like being pushed around, and wasn't one to scare
off or back down, so this would be the hard part for him. He had to keep a
loyal image to El Norte, but he had to confirm the suspicions against El
Cid that Ryan had started at the same time. The best way to do that was to
make it look like he didn't want to give the info up. 

 "Shit." Miguel shook his head, but he took it in stride. Miguel still
seemed more entertained by the idea than anything, which pleased Ryan. "So
I get to play loyal and innocent, pretending not to talk while making sure
he knows exactly what we want him to." Miguel's hands kept moving as he
talked, gracefully illustrating his words.

 Perfect. Ryan knew he had made the right decision picking Miguel. He knew
just what to do with little coaxing, this was working even better than
Ryan had planned. It was looking like Miguel might deserve that respect he
craved. "Pancamo is easy to fool. He might push you around a bit, 'force'
the information out of you...try not to slit his throat, okay?" Again,
Ryan kept a teasing lilt to his voice to show that he wasn't questioning
Miguel's ability on this one.

 Miguel just chuckled, hands slightly raised in a 'Who me?' gesture of
innocence. He also looked slightly pleased that Ryan was confident in him.
"Don't worry, El Cid will look guilty and I'll be clean."

 "Good. We'll meet back up after, and I'll let you know the next move."

 Miguel gave a quick nod and slipped out first. Ryan was starting to
notice that the small storage room made Miguel a bit twitchy, but it
wasn't Ryan that caused the nerves. As long as Ryan kept him distracted,
Miguel was better. Looked like the loco Latino didn't like confined
spaces. Too bad the unlucky fuck was stuck in them now. 

 **

 Afterwards, Miguel went back to hanging out alone, as usual. His blood
slowed to its usual dull hum. He was surprised at how fast Ryan had made
it flow, at how quickly they had come together. Only three days and
already business and sex were falling into his routine.

 Miguel finally drifted out of his shell, interacting with the other
inmates enough to hear things. He collected gossip, and learned who was
being blamed for El Cid getting nabbed. The info was already being taken
as credible, spreading like a virus. Of course, it wasn't being connected
to O'Reily in the slightest. Miguel couldn't believe who the bastard had
the balls to pin it on.

 A quick note was penned in frantic block letters, slipped discreetly in a
book. A book that Miguel recommended in passing to O'Reily as they watched
television. The comment was missed by everyone else who was mesmerized by
a bouncing Miss Sally. It was unsigned, untraceable if picked up by the
wrong person, but it's not like most of the motherfuckers in here read
anything anyway.

 Later that day, one of the Irish made a passing comment that Miguel
needed to hit the gym, cloaked as an insult. It was scary how fast they
had fallen into this easy, smooth rhythm.

 Miguel signed up for gym time immediately, slipping into a familiar
storage room.

 So very easy.

 O'Reily was already there, looking annoyed but the slightest bit lustful
at the same time. "Awfully soon for another meet, muchacho. What was so
important that you had to see me twice? Did ya miss me?"

 Yeah, there was that wicked grin and that flirting tone again. And the
fucker was still calling him shit like 'muchacho' just to get under his
skin. Telling Ryan to stop calling him hermano was turning out to be one
of Miguel's worst ideas.

 Miguel got right down to business, letting Ryan's other comments and
leering slide away. "Pancamo and Adebisi ratted out El Cid?" He
incredulously repeated the lie that was being taken for truth
by...everyone.

 Ryan looked pleased now, ignoring Miguel's disbelief and agitation. "It's
reached a loner like you? Perfect."

 Miguel just stared at him, marveling at his casualness. "That's who
you're pinning it on?"

 Ryan sloughed off Miguel's anger with a shrug. "They heard it yesterday.
They aren't pleased...they each blame the other." 

 That shark grin slid over Ryan's face, cold fire in his eyes as he talked
about his handiwork. A predator happily watching its prey develop a limp.

 "You're going to start a fucking war."

 That just got him a bemused shrug from the Irishman. "Nah...minor
skirmish. And besides, what do people need in times of war? A strong
leader to bring peace and prosperity." Ryan gestured to Miguel to make his
point.

 "There's going to be bloodshed."

 "We can keep it to a minimum. You want El Cid dead, you want to lead?
You're going to have to deal with it. This is Oz, not the fucking U.N."

 Miguel wondered again what in the hell had he gotten himself into.

 Ryan continued confidently, trying to get Miguel to see his side. "It's
not like it's innocent blood. Adebisi is itching for a war anyway. This
way we can play him to our side."

 "You haven't let him in on this." The slightly stunned statement slipped
out. Miguel knew those two worked together, and he was surprised that
O'Reily was leaving the Nigerian out of the loop. 

 "No. This can't be traced to you or me." Ryan's tone was firm and final.
"He'll know that you want El Cid gone, that you can be useful to him and
might be open to a partnership. But as far as the rest of this shit? It's
in our best interest if he really thinks Pancamo and El Cid are plotting
against him."

 "And now, El Cid *will* be against him when he hears your version of
events circulating around."

 Ryan just flashed that devil grin again. "Exactly. I told you, Pancamo
and Adebisi will take care of El Cid for us. Hopefully Pancamo will do it
on his own, with the proper motivation. Adebisi is plan B. He thinks
Pancamo was behind the move on El Cid. He hates the wops anyway, and he'll
help us whack El Cid and blame it on the dumb fucks if necessary."

 "War." Jesus. This was how Ryan lived? No wonder he had seemed on edge
lately. "El Norte will want vengeance for El Cid's death."

 Ryan was unconcerned, dismissing the worry. "Nobody has the balls to
whack wise guys, and by the time we're done it'll be clear that El Cid
brought it on himself. When you step in, you can talk them down to a
symbolic gesture of retaliation at the most, a small attack, and then help
them enter into an alliance with the homeboys."

 "Fuck. So...I need to bait El Cid, get him to go after Pancamo. Get him
to make a foolish move." 

 "Exactly. It won't be hard, the guy's a hothead who will be out for
blood. The more erratic we make him, the better. I was going to go over
this with you at our next meet...if you could've waited." Ryan wasn't
really upset though, his brain clearly spinning and planning even as they
spoke. "Does he partake of his own product?"

 This couldn't be going anywhere good. Miguel answered cautiously.
"Sometimes. He has a small stash."

 "Perfect. You can get access to it, right?"

 Shit. "Yeah...you want me to spike it." Miguel kept his voice serious
when he continued. "I told you, I'm not gonna whack him myself."

 "Never the easy way, I know." Ryan didn't miss a beat, apparently he
*hadn't* been trying to push Miguel into doing it anyway. "We're just
going to keep him...agitated. He needs to start losing even more control.
If I thought you would off him yourself, I wouldn't have to engineer this
war." 

 There was a slight mocking tone to his voice on that last word, but Ryan
was more bemused than angry. Like he was exasperated, but it was nothing
he wasn't expecting and he had planned around it. "Oh, and I wouldn't
recommend nibbling off of his plate." Ryan added.

 Miguel almost wanted to laugh, hysterical urge bubbling up in him. But he
just slumped back against the wall, sighing at the way the Irishman
worked. And not for the first time, Miguel was glad the devious fuck was
on his side. He hoped. "Jesus."

 "Don't worry. I know what the fuck I'm doing."

 "That's what fucking scares me."

 Ryan moved in smoothly, crossing the room to stand as close to Miguel as
possible. Ryan braced his hands on the wall on either side of Miguel as he
leaned in. "You wanted this, Miguel."

 Miguel. The use of his first name stood out. Not his last name, not a
Spanish familiar designed to annoy him. Ryan didn't use first names often
or lightly. 

 Ryan's hot breath was so close it made the hair rise on the back of
Miguel's neck. "Now, since we're here, *unnecessarily*...what do you say
we make it worth it?"

 Ryan's hand slid down Miguel's side. The sure caress bringing a tremor
already as Miguel instinctively leaned into Ryan's body. Fuck...they'd
just gotten off together earlier in the day and Ryan was already on him
again...and Miguel's body was responding eagerly.

 "Let's get your mind off your troubles. Chase those blues away." 

 And then there was no more talking as Miguel lost himself in that
dangerous mouth.

 ~ Chapter 4: Drench ~

 Miguel was lost in blood. 

 Guilt. 

 Pain. 

 Rivera's empty eyes bleeding, trapped behind dark glasses forever.

 Distant ringing of metal hitting the floor.

 Rivera leaning forward to make him see. 

 To wash him in the blood he had spilled. 

 Miguel jerked awake, hands moving defensively to his face, breath coming
hard and fast. His heart tried to pound its way out of his chest, leaving
him dizzy and off kilter.

 A sudden whoosh of air startled him -- the sound of the door. He sat up
quickly, expecting El Cid. But it was Ryan O'Reily, and he looked
almost...concerned. It even looked real, even though it resided only in
the eyes, Ryan's face its usual mask. With O'Reily, it was hard to tell
what was real and what was just what he wanted you to see. Still, he
wasn't always as slick and unreadable as he thought he was. Miguel thought
he could tell sometimes, could read tiburón like Ryan read everyone else.

 "Yo, brood boy. You okay? You're looking a little rough around the edges
there." 

 Miguel had been resting, a nap in the middle of the day as he tried to
calm himself. He needed his reserves since El Cid would be getting out
tomorrow. On top of that, Rivera had called off their interactions...
which Miguel was upset and relieved about at the same time. No matter how
he tried though, It wasn't very restful in his mind, and sleep wasn't
going to help apparently. Miguel shook his head slightly, trying to clear
it of the clinging images of his nightmare. Was it a nightmare if it
happened during the day? 

 They'd been locked down for two days after Beecher had *issues* with the
cocksucking Aryans in the gym. He'd been locked in here with his head and
hadn't seen Ryan since their last meet. Thankfully, Pancamo had come to
see him right before the lockdown. So, the dumb fuck was fooled and all
the players had their fixed scorecards. It was time to just sit back and
wait for El Cid's return. Now that the lockdown was lifted for Christmas
Eve, Ryan had apparently found his way back to Miguel's door to check on
things.

 "Problems, poco loco?" Ryan's voice was insistent beneath the teasing
tone. It carried an edge...almost like worry. 

 Poco loco?!? Cocksucker. O'Reily certainly knew how to piss him off,
didn't he? Although Miguel got the feeling that in this case, that wasn't
Ryan's intent. It was good anyway, it was a feeling other than fear,
horror, and guilt. And any sting from the annoying new nickname was muted
by Ryan's next words. "Look, you've got nothing to worry about. We'll be
good. Don't start losing it now." 

 That was definitely concern Miguel heard, belying the calm face. And it
almost sounded like concern *for* him, not about him fucking up the plan.
It sent a small shock through Miguel.

 Miguel cleared his throat, sloughing off the stifling visions and sleep.
"It's not El Cid. I'm fine."

 "You don't look it."

 "I was just dreaming. About Rivera." And Miguel thought that would get
him to back off. Ryan didn't give a shit about that, it had nothing to do
with their plans. 

 But much to Miguel's confusion, Ryan didn't just drop it.

 "Bad nightmares, huh?" Ryan's voice suddenly turned soft and low, full of
something hidden. But even as he spoke, Ryan kept his casual pose, leaning
in Miguel's doorway like it was nothing. "Cyril has those."

 Oh. That explained the unknown emotion lurking in his voice. "It's
nothing to worry about. I can handle it."

 Ryan let it go, but his voice didn't lose that edge. "Okay." 

 "We shouldn't be seen talking, remember?"

 Ryan just shook his head slightly. "Everyone's otherwise occupied.
Besides, they'll just think I'm fucking with you."

 That explained the mask, all sneers with no smile, the posture of taunt
and dismissal. Physical lies. Verbal truth. Which was real? Should he
believe the words, the eyes and the meaning lurking in them, or the body
language?

 "I just wanted to check in before El Cid gets out. It's our last chance
to talk before the ball gets rolling and shit starts happening. All set,
amigo?"

 Miguel snorted, nodding his readiness dismissively before changing the
subject. 'Amigo' was fine compared to shit like 'muchacho' and 'poco
loco', but still... "What do I have to do to get you to stop calling me
annoying shit?"

 Ryan grinned, small and hidden away immediately, disappearing before it
could be seen. "Hey, you call me tiburón all the damn time."

 Miguel just rolled his eyes, leaning back in his bunk now. "You *like*
that." Miguel could tell.

 Ryan was humoring him, keeping it oddly friendly and easy. "I'll make you
a deal, I'll stick with one."

 Inconsequential chatter. Ryan's way of keeping Miguel's mind off of what
was really bothering him for a moment. Ryan was trying to calm him down,
and Miguel couldn't tell why. Maybe it was just to assure that his plans
ran smoothly.

 Miguel went with it, needing the distraction. "If it's 'poco loco', I'll
fucking kill you."

 Ryan wanted to laugh, Miguel could see it around his eyes, but he
couldn't show it, not out in the open like this, not yet. It was all in
his voice when he spoke. "Hmmm...how about gato?"

 "Why the hell would you call me that?" At least it didn't annoy him.
Miguel was a bit surprised Ryan even knew the word; he'd thought the Mick
only knew basic familiars and probably some insults.

 "You're a fighter, like a scarred up alley cat. You've got nine fucking
lives...and even if you bristle, I know you like it when I pet you." That
last part came out low and smooth, a vocal leer. 

 Surprisingly, that didn't piss Miguel off either. It just started that
now familiar heat spreading through him. 

 But there was nothing he could do about it now, so Miguel joked instead.
Oddly, it almost sounded like Ryan had given it some thought. "You do
realize that sharks and cats aren't known for teaming up, right?"

 Ryan swallowed that grin again. "They're both predators. They both like
fish. How do you know that cats aren't just pretending to hate water?
Maybe they hang out with sharks, maybe they go fishing together when no
one is looking."

 And Ryan was the one calling *him* crazy? But Miguel could tell that Ryan
was just saying insane shit to distract Miguel from his worries, to keep
his mind off the nightmare. It was another unexpected bit of kindness from
Ryan that surprised Miguel.

 That honey smooth voice continued, belying the outwardly calm pose of
Ryan's body putting on a show for anyone who may have looked up at him.
"What you need is some tension release."

 Fuck. Miguel was starting to notice things he hadn't before when it came
to the devious Irishman. Ryan moved like sex, fluid. He spoke with it
drenching his words, eyes containing a constant tease, and Miguel's body
was starting to respond to that without consulting his brain.

 Despite the absurd conversation, Miguel could see his own growing lust
mirrored in Ryan's eyes. But he had other worries. Real ones, that needed
to be addressed. "It might not help, I've got other problems."

 The sudden blind switch in topics didn't throw Ryan off, but the nearly
undetectable tension returned to his body. So subtle that only Miguel
could see it. "What's up?"

 "My unlucky ass is going to end up in solitary, no matter what I do."

 "I told you, I know what I'm doing." Ryan was dismissive and annoyed. He
probably thought Miguel was worrying about El Cid.

 "It's not that. Do you know *why* I got out in the first place?"

 Ryan shifted slightly in the doorway, eyes narrowing in sudden interest,
greedy for any new information. "I heard the nun saved your ass." 

 "Kinda. She wanted me to do the interaction shit. After our last session,
Rivera ended it though. I just found out."

 Ryan scoffed, relaxing again almost imperceptibly. "So? Sister Pete isn't
going to send you back for that."

 And Miguel wasn't sure how much to tell Ryan, but he didn't have much to
lose at this point. "There was another part to the deal...Glynn wants
something else to secure my freedom."

 Ryan just waited for Miguel to continue, glancing around to make sure the
coast was still clear and everyone was still downstairs.

 "I have to give up his daughter's rapist." Miguel was sure Ryan had heard
some of that, so he didn't explain further. Sometimes Miguel wondered if
the slick Mick wasn't the one that talked to god with all the shit he
somehow managed to know.

 Ryan didn't see the problem, and Miguel had known he wouldn't. Ryan did
anything to save his ass. "So? Do it."

 Old bitterness surfaced sluggishly in Miguel. It seemed so distant now.
"That fucker deserves to squirm, what he did to me for no fucking
reason..."

 "What? And you deserve to rot in solitary for a fucking rapist? Give.
Him. Up." It was dangerously close to a command, disbelief and disgust
permeating Ryan's tone.

 Part of Miguel bristled at that...but that's what Miguel wanted to do
anyway. He couldn't go back to that little room. Not when he had a chance
to stay out. Screw his loyalty to El Norte, it didn't count in this
instance, this wasn't like the thing with Rivera. Screw his grudge against
that cocksucker Glynn. He would sacrifice it all to stay out, now that he
had a chance. But there was another issue.

 "It gets out that I ratted, I'm right back where I started. I might as
well have just gone back."

 "Shit. It's never easy with you is it?" It was weary instead of
accusatory and Ryan looked like he was starting to get nervous, mind
working behind those eyes. "I've been here too long. So listen to me, and
shut up."

 If it hadn't been clear that Ryan was worried about exposing their
alliance and too busy thinking to consider his words, Miguel would've had
to tell him to fuck off. But he let it go, just this once. Because Ryan
was actually trying to help him -- and that was another little shock all
it's own. Besides, Miguel wanted the outside perspective.

 Ryan fired off questions briskly, all business. "Who knows the name of
the guy that did the deed?"

 "Everyone in El Norte, inside and out of Oz."

 "And no one knows about your deal with Glynn or the source of the tension
between you two?"

 Miguel went with it, giving up partial control of this situation because
he had to. He hadn't come to a solution of his own and he was fucking
tired of it gnawing at him. "No."

 "Then fuck it. They'll never find out. Any number of guys could've given
the doer up. If we have to, we'll pin it on somebody else. Give Glynn what
he wants." Ryan locked that intense gaze on his, the tiniest hint of
something in those eyes...he wanted Miguel to go along with it, to accept
it. 

 Miguel hesitated for a breath, but he knew this was the best way. He felt
relief at putting this behind him. Maybe a little bit of it was due to
having someone at his back, someone to help make this decision that had
been fucking hard for him. "Okay."

 And there was relief in Ryan's eyes as well. "We're good then?"

 And again, oddly...it seemed like the answer mattered to Ryan. Miguel
just nodded and watched that little relaxation of his body again, the
slightest untensing of muscles and lines around the eyes.

 Ryan turned to leave, hesitating. He tilted his head slightly, searching
Miguel's face. Then he shifted back into smooth mode, that banked lust
springing back to life in his eyes. "Meet me in the gym in twenty
minutes...I'll make sure no one's looking, gato."

 Miguel nodded again, slow. Just the sight of that heat in Ryan's eyes
brought back the fire that had been running through Miguel's blood. It was
sped along by the weight that had been lifted off his shoulders now that
he'd chosen a course with Glynn. And Ryan had...helped, in his own odd
way, even though he didn't need to, because it wasn't really part of their
business, and it was Miguel's own problem to deal with. Sure, their
partnership ended if Miguel went back to solitary, but Miguel hadn't
thought it really mattered to Ryan. 

 Miguel had been sure that Ryan's seeking him out had been a convenience,
that Ryan had backup plans in case Miguel went away again. But it looked
like he meant all that shit about partnership, and wanting Miguel to have
his back, and Ryan was apparently prepared to watch Miguel's in turn. It
was surprising... and a little bit fucking insane.

 Miguel watched Ryan leave and swim back into the fray, cutting through
the other inmates with grace. Yep, he definitely moved like hidden sin,
and Miguel was finding he loved to watch it.

 **

 When Ryan entered the gym, it was empty except for one other inmate.
Miguel hadn't noticed him yet, being too focused on working out. That was
not what Ryan had meant by tension relief, he thought as he stood back and
watched Miguel. Miguel was laid out, doing bench presses when Ryan
sauntered over to stand at his head.

 Ryan looked down at him, at the slight traces of sweat on that exposed
caramel skin as those muscles worked underneath. Miguel had taken his
shirt off to work out. "Need a spot?"

 Miguel smirked up at Ryan, putting the weights up as he sat up. "It's a
bit too much for you, O'Reily."

 Ryan came around the bench and sat down in front of Miguel. He straddled
the bench, leaning forward into that heat. "Oh, I think I can handle it."

 Miguel just chuckled as he toweled his sweat off. "Did you miss me during
the lockdown, tiburón?"

 Ryan didn't answer with words, instead lunging forward to convey
everything with a sudden deep kiss. Miguel's small startled exclamation
was muffled by Ryan's mouth. But the shock quickly wore off and Miguel
returned the kiss with passion. 

 Fuck. Ryan would have to do without this soon. El Cid getting out would
curtail Miguel's ability to get away for a while. It was just another
incentive to off the bastard quickly as far as Ryan was concerned. Ryan
had gotten used to this already. There was nothing like getting off
regularly to help pass the days and lighten his step. He had also wanted
to get his mind of off Gloria, his obsession with her was the cause of his
biggest mistakes. And so far it was working.

 During the short lockdown, Ryan had found his mind slipping back to
Miguel often. And now that they were out, Ryan had wanted to see Miguel
first thing. Miguel must've missed it quite a bit too, judging by the
intensity in his kisses as he forcefully pressed into Ryan, knocking Ryan
back slightly. 

 Miguel tugged Ryan's bottom lip between his teeth, dragging the end of
the kiss out hotly as he pulled away to rasp out a question. "Do we have
time?" Miguel asked with a gesture to the large empty gym.

 "I took care of it. We'll be undisturbed." 

 Ryan saw just the flash of teeth in a wicked grin before Miguel swept him
up in another kiss. Miguel's hands were already slipping up under Ryan's
shirt, that familiar fire spreading with his touch. This had been a very
good plan. Ryan started to push Miguel back, as his tongue stroked into
that mouth. Miguel went with it until he was laying down on the bench,
legs straddling it, with Ryan leaning over him. Their legs knocked and
entwined slightly on either side of the bench. Ryan tore himself away from
that mouth long enough to sit back and stare just for a second. Miguel was
laid out before him, chest rising and falling with his rapid breath.
Miguel's hands stayed on Ryan, fingertips just grazing his hips. 

 "Merry Christmas, gato." It was only Christmas Eve. But since El Cid got
out tomorrow, that wasn't going to be a very bright day. It was like
Miguel was getting a lump of really ugly coal in his stocking, so Ryan
decided to bring him some cheer now. 

 As Ryan leaned back down, those hands slid back under his shirt in a
smooth caress up his back. Miguel shivered under him as Ryan placed the
first small, wet kiss to his chest. Ryan moved on to lick one dark nipple,
feeling it harden under his tongue. Miguel groaned and pushed up against
Ryan. He could feel that Miguel was already hard. Good. But he wasn't done
yet, for this to work Miguel would have to be practically begging.

 Ryan had decided that to actually get what he was dying for -- that mouth
on his cock -- he was going to have to open the door himself. Tit for tat,
with Ryan leading the way. That was the only way Miguel would do it any
time soon. And Ryan needed this now, before he lost Miguel to the scheme
for a while.

 Ryan continued kissing across Miguel's chest, tasting salt and skin. He
nipped and sucked those nipples in turn as his hands teased lower, touch
just firm enough not to tickle. Ryan felt damp skin, hard muscles tensing
as he listened to Miguel's breath quicken and rasp. He wondered if he
could feel Miguel's heart speed up. He pressed his lips to Miguel's chest
right above where his heart was and found he couldn't really feel the
beat. Oh well.

 Miguel was still stroking every bit of Ryan's flesh that he could reach,
rucking Ryan's shirt up. But Ryan didn't bother to remove it. The fiery
touch of those slightly rough hands felt so good, a reminder of why Ryan
was doing this. He missed that touch, even after only two days, he had
longed to feel this again. 

 Miguel hadn't quite clued in to what Ryan was working towards yet. He
tried to pull Ryan back up to his mouth as he kept thrusting up against
Ryan, seeking friction. Miguel kept brushing against Ryan's own already
hard cock, causing Ryan to moan against Miguel's chest.

 Ryan pressed Miguel's hips back down, denying them both. "Uh-uh. Not
yet."

 It almost hurt him to say it, Ryan was just about as desperate as Miguel
and he barely kept himself from thrusting right back, yearning for
rhythmic contact.

 Miguel let out a frustrated groan that turned low and sultry as Ryan's
mouth moved lower. He licked a slow, teasing line down the center of
Miguel's chest. Miguel's hands were finally forced to slip out from under
Ryan's shirt as Ryan slid farther down the bench. Ryan felt those tight
abdominal muscles under his mouth, felt them quiver as he started to undo
Miguel's pants.

 It finally hit Miguel. Ryan could feel it in the sharp intake of breath,
in the twitch of Miguel's hands tightening where he had been caressing
Ryan's upper arms. Ryan buried his smirk in the golden skin of Miguel's
stomach as he finally tugged Miguel's pants open. He couldn't really pull
them down with Miguel's legs on either side of the bench, but he got them
down enough to expose hips, more warm skin and to free Miguel's dark,
heavy erection. So close to Ryan's mouth now.

 Ryan was pretty sure Miguel actually stopped breathing for a minute there
as Ryan sucked on a tender bit of flesh right below Miguel's navel.

 "What -" Miguel's words were cut off with a shudder as Ryan moved to lick
across a sharply defined hipbone. "What are...you doing?" Miguel finally
finished his question with a rough breathlessness.

 Ryan stopped to look up at Miguel, resting his chin lightly on Miguel's
stomach. "If you need to ask, it's definitely been way too long." 

 Ryan returned to kissing the softest skin on Miguel's lower abdomen,
feeling the sprinkling of coarse hair under his lips, the beginning of a
sparse trail leading down. Ryan stopped right as Miguel started to pant.
"I'm making you a deal."

 "Deal?" Miguel's voice was husky and strained.

 "Quid pro quo."

 Ryan looked up into Miguel's eyes, watched the slight reluctance
completely give way to lust and need.

 "Diabólico, tiburón." Miguel knew exactly what Ryan had been doing, and
he seemed almost amused by it. Of course, he also seemed to be still a
little in shock. "Deal." 

 Fuck yes. 

 And there was such need in Miguel's voice. Ryan found he loved it when
Miguel sounded like that. Breathless. For Ryan. 

 Just do it. Dive in head first, Ryan thought wryly. Ryan lightly drug his
nails over Miguel's ribs, down over his hips as he took the head of
Miguel's dick into his mouth. That was a fucking beautiful noise Miguel
made.

 It wasn't what Ryan thought. Although he'd been trying to avoid thinking
about it. At the first taste those brown eyes were locked on him, full of
amazement and shivering heat. Desperation. Ryan had been planning to hurry
up and get it over with, telling himself it was a means to an end. But
now...he wanted to hear that rough gasp again.

 It wasn't that strange. Ryan applied what little knowledge he had, based
on his own experience on the receiving end, things like...almost
everything felt good except for teeth. If it brought that shudder and that
low groan, keep doing it. 

 Miguel's hand rested on his head, a hesitant touch turning into a light
stroke, fingers carding through Ryan's hair. Ryan loved touch, any kind,
and it was rare in here to have one that was so welcome. Ryan was getting
even more turned on, heat and blood in his body rushing south.

 Taste of pure Miguel. Ryan thought of Miguel's mouth. Thought of Miguel
sucking on his tongue, the way he gave himself over to Ryan. As Ryan
sucked and licked Miguel's cock he thought of Miguel's fierce consuming
passion when they had kissed, when they had touched. 

 Ryan pulled back with a long lap of his tongue to swirl around the head.
Tasting the small bitter tang before sliding that length back into his
mouth. Miguel's sweat slick skin was under his hands, firm trembling
muscles, the sharp curve of a hipbone against his palm.

 Ryan kept up that sloppy wet suck and the deft flicks of his tongue until
Miguel was close. It had been even longer for Miguel than it had been for
Ryan. So quick, it hadn't taken much at all. Low rumbling moans cut off by
sharp breathes, a shudder under Ryan's fingertips.

 "Ryan..." Miguel's voice so rough and deep it was like gravel, the sound
of it gliding over Ryan's skin. 

 His name. 

 His thanks. 

 His warning.

 Ryan pulled off completely, Miguel's dick slipping out of his mouth to be
taken up by his hand as he sat up. He switched to sure, swift strokes to
finish Miguel off. Finally able to thrust, Miguel came up into Ryan's firm
grip.

 Ryan watched. All trace of nerves and that hard edge were gone from
Miguel's face. Nightmares and worry chased away. This was much better.
Miguel's head tilted back, but his gaze was still focused on Ryan, eyes
staring out from under half closed lids. Pure relief, tinged with that
intensity and something hot and deep that sent a shiver down Ryan's spine.

 Miguel finished, coming over Ryan's hand and his own chest. Thrusts
abating as his gasping breaths slowly evened out and he lay there relaxed
and loose, with a lazy, open smile on his face.

 The satisfaction and wonder radiating from Miguel was echoed in his
voice. "So good...Fuck. Give me a minute."

 Ryan just sat back and waited, a pleased and slightly smug grin on his
face. He used Miguel's towel to clean up before he threw it on the floor.
"Better present than a bicycle or a puppy?"

 Miguel chuckled, as he slowly sat up, and propped himself back on his
arms. "Mmm...much better. One of the best early Christmas presents ever." 

 Miguel sat up fully, pulled up his pants and zipped back up before
scooting closer to Ryan on the bench. "Come here."

 Finally. Ryan leaned into that deep sweeping kiss eagerly. He was so
fucking hard and desperate by this point. If Miguel tried to tease, Ryan
would kick his ass. The kiss broke with a lingering sloppy suck of
tongues. Sweet Jesus. He needed this Now.

 Deciding he didn't want anymore bench contortions, Ryan got up, coming to
stand by the side of the bench near Miguel. Ryan was already hard and
ready, he didn't really have the time or the need for Miguel to conduct a
lengthy exploration of his skin, no matter how much Ryan loved that touch.


 Miguel stayed seated but swung his legs around, turning to face Ryan.
Miguel pushed up Ryan's shirt, starting with a soft bite to Ryan's stomach
as Miguel's hands slid up his sides in a caress. He was softly laying
kisses, tasting Ryan's skin. Ryan's cock was still straining, confined to
his pants. But it wasn't a tease and Ryan knew he would have to wait. And
every move from Miguel still felt so very good, despite the building ache
unknowingly making it sweet torture.

 It had seemed to Ryan like Miguel had restricted himself to his own right
hand the whole time he'd been here. So far he had approached everything
with Ryan like it was new. So Ryan knew Miguel might have to take a
moment, and Ryan tried to give him as much time to adjust to the idea as
possible. Despite how fucking desperate he was. 

 Ryan caught one of Miguel's hands and brought it up to his mouth. Ryan's
tongue teased over Miguel's wrist, up to place dirty little flicks to
Miguel's sensitive palm. Ryan licked two fingers into his mouth, sucking
on them as wetly and provocatively as possible. He felt Miguel's groan
vibrate on his stomach. Seemed like he liked that then. Miguel undid
Ryan's pants slightly awkwardly and one handed. Fuck. Ryan was finally
exposed to the air, and he groaned low in his throat in relief and
anticipation. Miguel gently pulled his hand down, Ryan let Miguel's
fingers out of his mouth with one last lick. 

 That hand came to grasp Ryan's aching cock, wet fingers rubbing up the
length. Ryan moaned as he finally got that touch where he needed it most.
Miguel just stared at him for a moment, unintentionally teasing with that
hot breath gusting across his dick. Fuck. Something in Ryan finally
cracked a little with the raw need.

 Ryan's voice came out low and soft. "If you're going to act like you're
going before a damn firing squad, then just never fucking mind." 

 His voice was devoid of anger, instead it was almost hurt sounding, Ryan
couldn't help it. Ryan didn't want hesitant obligation. He wanted that
passionate, enthusiastic mouth. He wanted just a taste of that desperation
that Miguel usually put into every touch.

 Ryan had been fucking good to Miguel. He had *tried*, and he was no
slouch when it came to pleasing his partners, when he wanted to. And he'd
never even made the effort before with the other fucks in here. Ryan had
his dick sucked since he'd been in Oz, although it had been too damn long,
but he'd never returned the favor. He'd never given more than a quick,
dispassionate hand job in return, if even that. Little Timmy Kirk had
never gotten anything but Ryan's leadership in return. 

 But with Miguel...Ryan found himself putting himself into it, wanting to
give as much pleasure as he got. Ryan had even gotten off on Miguel's
reactions, every noise he'd pulled from Miguel, the feel of him, even the
taste of him had made Ryan harder. And it would be best not to think about
that too much. 

 But Miguel didn't pull away, he held Ryan in place with a firm grip on
his hips, staring up at him with an unreadable look on his face. It held
things even Ryan couldn't decipher.

 "Calm down." Miguel deadpanned. 

 Then Miguel's tongue lapped the underside of Ryan's cock, one quick firm
lick. Ryan trembled with that sudden heat. 

 "Impatient motherfucker." Miguel muttered jokingly, quiet and bemused. 

 Miguel suddenly engulfed Ryan in the longed for soft warmth of his mouth.
Quick smooth slide into that perfect heat.

 "Oh fuck." The words were pulled from Ryan, his voice low, ragged and
awed.

 Ryan had been thinking of this since he'd first seen Miguel working that
lollipop. He'd imagined it at night when he remembered the greedy kisses
they shared. This was better than even his vivid imagination. So much
fucking better. 

 And Miguel sure as hell wasn't being timid. Ryan was so far gone after
having Miguel writhe under his mouth and having waited so long for this,
that he knew he wouldn't last. Miguel must've known it too. He kept up a
wet, steady suck with firm strokes of that wicked tongue. Ryan wanted to
feel every second fully, wanted to paint it on his memory to keep. It was
just what Ryan had wanted -- Miguel's passionate neediness tugging at him
deep inside. Perfect. 

 That soft sliding suction pulled Ryan in. Oh Fuck. Taking this standing
up had been a very bad idea. The warm buzzing pleasure Miguel was causing
to course through him made Ryan unsteady. Ryan wished he had something to
lean back against, it was so fucking amazing he felt like his knees were
going to buckle. He settled for leaning forward slightly, his hands braced
on Miguel's shoulders to support himself. Ryan tumbled quickly toward the
edge in a pure rush of adrenaline, of Miguel.

 "FUCK." Harsh exclamation turning into a drawn out moan.

 Ryan got the impression that Miguel would be laughing at that if he
could. Maybe it was the look in those eyes, or the soft shaking of
Miguel's shoulders. Smug bastard, Ryan thought fondly. But he had every
reason for it. That was the last thought in his head before it was
obliterated by that clinging heat. Miguel's tongue sending a delicious
tremble through Ryan's frame, sensation seeming to slide into his very
blood.

 Ryan could feel his orgasm building already, needy and raw. Miguel just
kept a firm grip on Ryan's hips, anchoring him as he took Ryan with that
fervent mouth. Miguel made one of those throaty groans of his, and the
vibration stroked along the nerves of Ryan's dick. It was all too much.

 "Miguel..." Ryan gasped out.

 But Miguel didn't pull back, and Ryan came into his mouth, his relief
hard and complete. Ryan sagged forward, Miguel still bracing him. The last
smooth, light strokes of Miguel's tongue washed over him as he rode out
his orgasm, pulsing into that wet heat. 

 Miguel finally pulled back when Ryan was done. Ryan could do nothing but
pant as he left Miguel's mouth, leaning heavily on those broad shoulders.
Ryan couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled this open and freely, so
wide that it made his face hurt.

 Miguel turned his head to spit, hitting the towel on the floor. Well,
that was attractive, Ryan thought sarcastically. But it had been fucking
wonderful, even if Miguel hadn't swallowed. Hell, Ryan hadn't even let
Miguel come in his mouth...maybe next time.

 And best of all, Miguel looked happy still. Or as happy as the broody
fuck ever looked. There was always darkness constantly lurking in those
deep brown eyes. It was a side effect of being trapped in this shithole.
Still, in this moment there was no worry on the surface, no discomfort and
there was that flicker of rare, joyous light that amazed Ryan. And Miguel
definitely looked quite pleased with himself. But considering how he had
perfectly dismantled Ryan, some self satisfaction was only fair.

 So fucking good. The thought was still repeating stupidly in Ryan's head
as he stared at Miguel. Fucking beautiful.

 Ryan collapsed onto the bench next to Miguel, leaning heavily on him.
Warm and strong, propping Ryan up. Fuck it. Ryan slid down bonelessly,
somehow ending up with his head in Miguel's lap. He stayed there
comfortably as he caught his breath in the afterglow. 

 Miguel stared down at him, amused. He waited a moment before speaking,
expression turning slightly serious. "When El Cid gets out..."

 No. Not now. Ryan didn't want to think. He reached a hand up to quickly
cover Miguel's mouth. "No. No business yet...just give me this."

 Thankfully, Miguel shut up. A mischievous flicker in Miguel's eyes was
Ryan's only warning before there was a hot lick across his palm, followed
by a sucking bite.

 Ryan groaned happily. "That's better."

 Ryan slowly withdrew his hand. Miguel nipped a finger as Ryan pulled it
away, amusement still dancing in the dark eyes, chasing away the
seriousness of a moment ago.

 Miguel stroked Ryan's hair as he chuckled, the low rumble reverberating
through Ryan's loose body. Ryan soaked up that absentminded affection as
Miguel's hand kept up the light caress. 

 Miguel gave Ryan his moment, before it finally had to be broken. "We
can't stay here forever, tiburón."

 "I know." Ryan said with a sigh as he started to pull himself up. 

 Miguel's hand trailed over Ryan's back, not breaking contact as Ryan sat
up, continuing to speak. "It cost enough to buy us this." 

 It was costing a small chunk of his boxing profits to keep them alone and
undisturbed, but Ryan considered it all well worth it.

 "The fucking hacks have no holiday spirit." Miguel joked.

 Ryan smirked at that, then reluctantly shifted back to reality. "You
should go back first." 

 Miguel nodded and took his shirt from where it had been hanging in his
back pocket, pulling it back on. "El Cid's going to want to keep an eye on
me."

 And that must've been what Miguel was going to address earlier. "Word
that you weren't behind his capture should reach him as soon as he hits
ground, but be careful. If you think he's going to make a move against
you, do what you have to do and we'll change plans if we have to."

 "I'll lay low until I'm sure. Then I'll welcome them back."

 "Good. We can't see each other as often for a while." And there was real
regret from Ryan in that statement, but he tried to hide it as best he
could. "I'll contact you when something develops, and you do the same."

 Miguel bent down to kiss Ryan one last time, quick and firm, tongue
sweeping through his mouth. Ryan instinctively leaned up slightly as
Miguel pulled away, chasing those lips.

 "Feliz Navidad, Ryan."

 Miguel used his first name again...and Ryan liked it. Today had been even
better than he had hoped for. Ryan leaned back slightly with a content
sigh as he watched Miguel leave. Miguel actually made him feel *good*, and
that was the rarest gift in here. Merry fucking Christmas indeed.

 ~ Chapter 5: Suckers ~

 Miguel was sitting on the bed in one of the private rooms. In his hands
was the patient file he had 'borrowed'. Busy scanning it for the pertinent
information, he heard the approaching footsteps too late. The door swung
open just as he shoved the folder under the pillow, futilely trying to
hide it.

 Ryan O'Reily entered, wearing his kitchen uniform but nowhere near food.
Shit, the guy had magnificent timing.

 "What are you hiding there?" Ryan strolled over and snatched the file
from it's hiding place as he perched comfortably on the hospital bed next
to Miguel. "Ahh...learning fascinating facts about our fellows to know and
share?"

 Ryan, hungry for information as always, opened the file with a smirk that
quickly faded into stone. "This is *my* file." Ryan's voice was stunned
and suddenly devoid of all humor.

 Shit.

 Ryan's body tensed beside him as he turned his head to pin Miguel with a
narrow gaze. "What are you doing with my file?"

 Damn the guy was fucking touchy. "I..uh...I was looking up something."

 There were reasons Miguel hadn't just asked, one being that he didn't
know if he trusted Ryan to tell him the truth, but the main one was that
it was fucking uncomfortable.

 "What?" Ryan asked, the word coming out dark and clipped.

 When it came to Ryan, Miguel had just been acting without thinking too
much about it. But here and now, after what he'd done yesterday...he had
to process the fact that he was getting off with Ryan on a regular basis.
And he *liked* it. Far too much. Hell, part of him was coiled even now,
waiting until the next time he could get that dangerous fuck alone
somewhere more private. Unfortunately, Ryan had proved by waltzing right
in that this was not the time or place. The bottom line was that Miguel
couldn't deny things any longer, and it was time to stop falling into
everything blind and ignoring certain risks. 

 "Calm the fuck down, okay?" Miguel rubbed the back of his neck and
sighed. "I was checking your tests for sexually transmitted diseases and
shit."

 Ryan searched his face for a second, trying to see if he was lying,
before he relaxed. Paranoid fucker.

 "You could've just asked."

 Miguel snorted. "Yeah, because you're known for your honesty."

 Ryan grinned evilly at that. Miguel was just thankful that it appeared
Ryan wasn't going to give him shit about it.

 "See for yourself, I'm clean." Ryan flopped the file into Miguel's lap.
"And I already knew you were." Ryan said with that little all knowing
smirk.

 The fucker had been acting all pissed, when he'd already snatched
Miguel's file. Cutre.

 Ryan continued. "Besides, I already know you've been on your best
behavior since you've been inside and you've stayed away from the other
fucks."

 It was true, but how the hell did Ryan know that?

 Ryan leaned in even closer, until he was pressed against Miguel's side to
whisper in his ear. "I can tell by the way you touch me."

 Ryan's low, seductive voice, and sneaky hand suddenly stroking down
Miguel's arm, were starting that heat in Miguel again. Shit.

 Miguel shook it off, or tried to anyway, as Ryan moved slightly away from
him again. He was still in Miguel's personal space as always, but he kept
his hands to himself.

 Miguel ignored the last comment and focused on other things. "Yeah, and I
know you haven't 'behaved'."

 Which had been quite the fucking shock. Everyone thought Ryan was the
straightest fucker in here, including Miguel until recently. Then Ryan had
come on to Miguel -- strong. It changed Miguel's view on things and made
him wonder. And now it seemed Miguel couldn't keep his hands, or his
mouth, off of Ryan.

 "This doesn't mean anything, you're still never getting my ass." Miguel
warned firmly. That had been another issue, there was the likelihood that
Ryan would misunderstand Miguel's motives for checking and start getting
ideas in that fucking head of his.

 "I know, you'll cut off the family jewels." Ryan held his hands up in a
calming gesture as he grimaced slightly at the thought. "Don't worry, that
got through loud and clear, gato." 

 "You can get enough nasty shit even doing other things." Miguel knew that
from working the hospital ward. Miguel also knew that he was implicitly
admitting that what had happened in the gym was not a one time holiday
surprise, that Miguel was open to it happening again. He could see the
slight pleasure in Ryan's eyes at the news. 

 "Your chart doesn't really mean anything though, does it? With your horny
ass, you probably picked up something on the way here." Miguel made it
clear that he was joking, but he did want to know the risks and just how
much dicking around Ryan was doing. Miguel couldn't take anything for
granted if the guy had hidden his activities so well this far. 

 For a split second, Ryan looked like he was contemplating whether or not
to get angry at the remark. But he ended up just laughing. "I may have had
a very *few* indiscretions in the past." Ryan held up a finger to
emphasize his point. "...but now? Just you."

 Miguel was slightly surprised Ryan had admitted that he hadn't been
playing it quite as straight as he let on before...but it's not like he
had anything to lose by telling Miguel. Miguel already had firsthand
experience of Ryan's activities. Ryan hadn't named names, and it's not
like Miguel could share the information. 

 Ryan continued, getting his own dig in. "So as long as you're not going
to give all of El Norte a very *special* welcome back party, we don't have
to use anything."

 Miguel stared in revulsion at just the fucking idea. He had no intention
of messing with *anybody* in El Norte. "That's fucking disgusting."

 Still, Ryan had just been joking, fucking with him as always. Miguel
punched him playfully in the arm without thinking. Catching himself a
second too late, Miguel wondered if he had crossed a line. But Ryan looked
fine, comfortable. He didn't get pissed or try to hit Miguel back. He just
looked amused, laughter dancing in those green eyes.

 Miguel found he believed Ryan when he said he was safe. Maybe Miguel was
just losing his mind again. He hoped the decision to trust Ryan didn't
come back to bite him in the ass. At least the risk was slight. And Miguel
had to admit he would rather not use condoms if he didn't have to. 

 Ryan grimaced a little at his own words after a moment. "Yeah, that is
one nasty visual, isn't it? Try to forget it." Ryan's hand slid up
Miguel's leg to aid in the forgetting process as Ryan leaned in close
again, licking his lips inches from Miguel's. Ryan's expression turned
more lustful as he continued to speak. "I want to be able to *feel* your
mouth on me."

 Miguel shivered, and nodded slightly before closing the scant distance
between them for an impulsive kiss, overtaken by the pull of nearness and
the passion behind Ryan's words. Just a brief shiver of contact of those
lips against his, ending far too quickly.

 Ryan grinned that wicked grin. "Besides...yours is the only dick I've
sucked." Ryan finished the sultry statement with a flick of his tongue to
Miguel's lips.

 Fuck, if Ryan kept saying shit like that, in that dirty voice, Miguel was
going to lunge on him right there. But they couldn't do anything right
here and now, dammit. In fact..."What are you even doing here? We're
supposed to be laying low and keeping our distance."

 Miguel had been noticing that Ryan loved touch, any kind. He had no
personal boundaries, always coming so close, and Miguel found himself
responding in kind. Ryan always seemed to fucking love it, showing those
subtle tells, leaning into Miguel, his entire demeanor relaxing ever so
slightly. Like now, with the both of them sitting on the hospital bed next
to each other, pressed side to side, turned just slightly towards each
other to speak. Miguel leaned into Ryan, and as always Ryan moved right
into Miguel, solidly against him. And even though Ryan's dirty words had
been turning him on...this was different from lust. It was almost
about...comfort, and that was enough. 

 Ryan tugged on his white shirt, arm softly bumping Miguel with the
movement. "I'm delivering lunch."

 Miguel snorted. "And doing a great job."

 Ryan's legs were moving in a graceful unconscious fidget now, knocking
and rubbing pleasantly against Miguel's.

 "Yeah, and how's that invisible patient you were in here checking on?"
Ryan mocked. "We're not sitting on him are we?"

 He had a point, Miguel wasn't exactly hard at work either. But he didn't
slack off usually, not like Ryan.

 Ryan turned slightly more serious. "I just wanted to see how the return
of your comrades went."

 Miguel shrugged. "I saw them before I came here, but we didn't get the
chance to say much. They don't seem too pissed at *me* at the moment.
Everyone's buying your story and they know I didn't have anything to do
with their bust."

 "And El Cid?"

 "He isn't happy, but he's not showing it. He's still got that fucking
grudge against me but he doesn't believe it was me either. I think he's
kind of pissed off about that. He's busy trying to figure out what's up
with Adebisi and Pancamo though, so I'm safe for now."

 "Good." Ryan nodded and stood up. "I'll give you some stuff to slip in
his personal stash later, so we can start revving him up. I'm off to feed
the animals."

 "Remember, nothing fatal."

 "Nah, of course not. We just want to keep him on edge, and then push him
over at the right moment. You start whispering in his ear about people
plotting against him. I'll take care of what goes in Adebisi's ears." Ryan
turned back to look at Miguel before he left. "And you did a lovely job
making Pancamo think El Cid was planning a move against him, so he's
already focused on El Cid."

 Miguel scoffed. "That dumb motherfucker can barely string a thought
together. I practically had to spell it out for him while pretending not
to say anything."

 Ryan chuckled, throwing out one last thing before he went out the door.
"And make sure you put my fucking file back."

 **

 Miguel made it through the rest of the day without too much hassle. He
had still walked away from the bust that caught the rest of El Norte, so
they were a bit distant with him. But they had other concerns, and Miguel
had the information they needed, so they were accepting him for the
moment. The air was thick with the tension between gangs and they needed
all the warm bodies on their side that they could get. 

 Miguel played it loyal, laying out everything he 'knew', which was really
everything he and Ryan wanted them to know. He made it seem like it was
lucky that he had been out to keep track of the happenings and stick up
for El Norte. He made it clear that 'credible' sources favored Pancamo and
the wops as the rats who were out to get them. They believed him, and the
only cautious stares he got were from El Cid and Guerra, which was what he
had expected.

 That night Miguel was locked down with El Cid again. Hours to kill and
nothing to do. Miguel had to face up to El Cid now that they were alone.
He had no idea how El Cid was going to play it, he'd left Miguel alone so
far, when the others were around. El Cid had played distant and just
listened to Miguel run down the happenings. El Cid's first concern had
naturally been Pancamo and Adebisi, there had been information gathering
and a lot of harsh words flying amid the gang. 

 But now, Miguel would see how El Cid really felt as far as Miguel was
concerned. And find out if he needed to do something drastic. Time to see
if Ryan's plans would even get a chance to really get off the ground.

 El Cid sat on Miguel's bottom bunk, making Miguel perch on the toilet
again. So he could show who was boss, show that everything that was
Miguel's belonged to El Cid. 

 "So, Michael..."

 There it was again. That fucking bastard. If Miguel needed anything to
help him rationalize his decision to turn against El Cid, being back in a
room with the guy had provided it. That one word cemented Miguel on his
chosen course, steeling him for what he was doing. Miguel had taken a
guy's eyes for this cocksucker, he'd consigned himself to a life of
solitary. He'd done everything to prove himself to the leader and El
Shithead still treated Miguel like he was nothing. Like he wasn't good
enough.

 It was all Miguel could do to keep his head down and stay quiet. To think
that Miguel had respected him, had given this bitter little man his
loyalty. Fuck that motherfucker. Miguel was *better* than good enough and
he was going to prove it. 

 "I hear you ran things good while we were gone, kept El Norte on the
map." 

 Shit, Miguel had never heard anything that sounded so insincere in his
life, and he spent time with O'Reily now, the king of doublespeak, so that
was saying something.

 El Cid continued to speak, darkness and threats becoming even more clear
in his tone. "I hope you didn't get too used to it. You miss being in
charge, Michael?"

 Just you watch, motherfucker.

 Miguel ducked his head. "No, El Cid. You're the boss. I didn't do
anything but try to hold it together until everyone got out. I ran what
little tits I could, and put off Pancamo when he came sniffing for
weakness in our gang. I mainly just listened and waited for your return."
Miguel kept his voice low and deferent, letting just a bit of fear barely
show in his voice. And the fear was real. Miguel was walking a razor's
edge, death or a return to solitary on either side. He kept his expression
hang dog and humble. It would be best if he pretended to be beaten down by
this man. "I'm glad you're back. I follow you. I can't go it alone in
here, you know that."

 El Cid just nodded, looking wary but sure of himself and his hold.
Cabron.

 Miguel wasn't alone. He had tiburón on his side. For now at least. Maybe
O'Reily couldn't be relied on completely, and Miguel knew there was a
large chance that the Irishman would dupe Miguel or turn on him the second
it was more profitable for him to do so. But Ryan was a better chance than
El Cid. And Ryan hated El Cid too, so for now he could be trusted. Hell,
Miguel might be a pawn in Ryan's larger plans, but Miguel *knew* that. He
knew to be on his guard. And it was seeming more and more like Miguel
really was a partner in Ryan's plans. Which just meant that the whole
world was going mad.

 Miguel looked up at that ugly mug examining him. It looked like Hernandez
believed him, for now. The leader needed soldiers and he thought that he
still had Miguel under his thumb. That huge fucking head of his. Yeah,
thinking he was a great powerful leader and Miguel was a gnat that he
could control.

 "It's good that you still understand your place, Miguel."

 Oh, what a fucking honor, Miguel thought sarcastically upon Hernandez
using his given name finally. Miguel recalled his vows to El Norte, what
they had meant. He felt a deep pang of guilt, but shoved it aside. Things
had changed. Miguel's survival came first, now he knew no one else was
going to look out for him. El Cid did not deserve his loyalty anymore.
This man wanted him dead or gone, he would use Miguel up and throw him
away again. El Cid wasn't loyal, he abused his power.

 And El Cid was still talking, oblivious. "Tomorrow we get well. What did
you run while we were gone?"

 Miguel shrugged. "Some Quaaludes and stuff from the infirmary."

 El Cid handed him a small baggie of white powder. Just enough for
personal use. El Cid's personal use, because Miguel didn't do heroin and
he knew that.

 "I want you to keep my personal stash safe for me from now on." There was
no trust in that voice.

 What the hell was he up to?

 El Cid finished, dark antagonism hiding in his words. "Keep it in your
mattress, since you seem to have a talent for not getting caught
possessing."

 Motherfucker. That way El Cid would have it easily on hand and Miguel
would take the fall if it got found. It was El Cid's way of letting Miguel
know that the bust had been neither forgiven or forgotten, even if he knew
Miguel hadn't had a hand in it. El Cid was showing Miguel that he was
still not in the leader's good graces. Miguel would be kept around while
useful, and would have to prove himself. Again. 

 Fuck that, he was done giving everything to this cocksucker. Miguel knew
right in that instant that he had made the right decision in getting El
Cid out of the way. El Cid would never accept him.

 Miguel nodded. Acting obedient, cowed.

 It would just be even easier to spike the shit this way. El Cid didn't
expect it of him, didn't even consider it. Even this dumbass might become
suspicious eventually, once the PCP mix Ryan had provided started showing
its effect every time El Cid used, but that's where O'Reily came in. If he
was spiking the food, it would mix it up and keep El Cid from connecting
the dots. O'Reily had probably planned it that way. Smart and
dangerous...and working with Miguel. El Cid didn't stand a chance.

 **

 El Cid heaved his fat ass up to his own bed, finally, and Miguel laid
down to read. El Cid ranted about his enemies a little above him and
Miguel played his part, fueling his suspicion and anger against them,
before the bastard wound down and left Miguel alone.

 Finally the lights went out and Miguel could rest. All this deception and
maneuvering was fucking tiring. He'd been on edge and having to hide it
all day. Miguel had no idea how Ryan did it.

 As worn out as he was, Miguel couldn't reach sleep. Even his crappy
pillow seemed lumpier than usual. One hard lump in particular stood out.
Miguel slid his hand into the pillowcase to pull out...

 ...a lollipop. 

 What the hell? He didn't keep candy in his pillow. Then Miguel noticed
the green string tied in a sloppy, drooping bow around the little white
stick.

 Green.

 It was all he could do not to laugh and draw the attention of El Cid
above him. Motherfucker was snoring again. As much as Miguel had hated
being by himself for the hours of lockdown, he did not miss the evil, ugly
ape at all. He'd rather be trapped in the little room alone. 

 But, he wasn't really alone anymore was he? Miguel stared at his present,
a little grin forming on his face. It was kind of odd that Ryan knew he
liked lollipops, he didn't have them often. Ryan had been paying more
attention to him than he had thought. Miguel's grin grew when he realized
the pervert probably just liked watching Miguel suck on things. Instead of
creeping him out or pissing him off, like it probably should have, Miguel
just found it...amusing.

 Feliz Navidad, tiburón. 

 Miguel had almost forgotten momentarily that it was Christmas. It never
felt like the holidays in here, not the way it did on the outside. It was
just a swirl of events going on elsewhere that reminded you that you were
trapped. Inside, it was just another day like the last. Empty. But it
wasn't as hollow if you had someone to share it with, someone to give it a
tiny bit of meaning.

 Miguel rolled the odd little gift in his hand. That fucker was crazy.
Miguel kind of liked him that way though. Maybe he was fucking crazy too.

 A sucker. It reminded him of yesterday. Reminded him of what he had done.


 He'd become a cocksucker. 

 For some reason, he doubted Ryan had meant the gift to unsettle him.
Miguel didn't think that was the point Ryan was trying to make. After all,
the guy had given as good as he got. And he'd seemed rather blissed out
when Miguel had left. Miguel wasn't the only cocksucker in their
relationship, and Ryan had made that point clear.

 The memories washed over him and Miguel found...he wasn't upset or
disturbed. Ryan O'Reily's dick in his mouth. And it wasn't against
Miguel's will. Everything had happened so fast and been such a surprise
yesterday that he hadn't thought, he'd just acted on those urges. Ryan
helpless and desperate in his mouth, coming with Miguel's name on his
lips. Too much happening to think, Miguel had worried about catching
something a bit too late, spitting Ryan's come out. More than that
though...it almost meant something to Miguel. Bodily fluid, he'd had his
share in solitary, drinking his own piss to survive, but this was
different. Part of Ryan. He wasn't sure if he should take Ryan that far
inside of himself. But maybe he was thinking too much, letting his mind
spiral away from him. Miguel reigned it back in. Maybe it didn't really
mean anything at all. 

 Right on the tail of those thoughts was the flipside. Ryan's mouth...that
hot, wet suction Miguel hadn't had in so long. His mind focused on that --
Ryan giving something of himself first, only for Miguel. When Ryan had
said Miguel's dick was the only one he had sucked, Miguel believed him. It
had been so good. All of it. 

 Sucking off Ryan hadn't been bad...it was just the opposite. Ryan moaning
his name like a benediction, crawling under his skin. That look on Ryan's
face when Ryan came, and how he had acted afterwards. So unlike the
O'Reily he knew completely. Those walls came down and there was a pause
from the scheming, Ryan had just stopped to...breathe, to be open and
playful.

 Miguel had never known that Ryan needed a break from all the shit. His
constant machinations, manipulations, and lies just seemed so effortless.
Miguel had never thought there was anything else there. He'd thought that
constant heartless cunning was all there was. But he'd been seeing
glimpses of more lately.

 Miguel had to admit that he also enjoyed being in on those plans. And
Ryan was unexpectedly including him in the details, laying things out.
Miguel knew that there were probably steps ahead that Ryan wasn't showing
him yet, but Ryan was sharing intricacies he didn't have to. What had
started as a partnership of necessity for Miguel, something needed for
survival, was shifting into something else. At first Miguel had kept
wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into, sucked into this web
of danger and discovery so quickly, without much of a choice. But now...he
knew he was playing a dangerous game, tied up with a master schemer...but
he was finding he didn't want to extract himself. 

 Miguel found Ryan's mind interesting and frightening at the same time.
But it was more fascinating to find out that there was something human in
Ryan...buried. It drew Miguel in. In the past, Miguel had always watched
the schemer in Ryan with detached amusement. But that newly glimpsed human
part of Ryan, the part that cared, worried and needed a break, that was
something Miguel understood and empathized with. Miguel didn't feel so
alone and caught up in Ryan's plans after having seen that. Ryan engaged
him on a whole other level now...and that was a little fucking frightening
too.

 There in the dark, Miguel had nothing to do but think. And he wasn't
thinking about the business side of things, or El Cid anymore. Miguel was
contemplating the personal side of things. Those clinging kisses. That
quiet moment in the gym. Miguel had crossed a line, or more accurately,
Ryan had enticed him over it. The promise of Ryan's mouth had been too
much. Miguel had abstained since he'd been here, held back and controlled
himself. But the loneliness was too fucking much. And Ryan was...fuck,
Miguel didn't know. From that very first touch he'd been chasing after
Ryan subconsciously, falling eagerly into all further contact. That fire
felt so good. Not alone and so fucking alive for the first time in years.
Miguel wanted more and more. 

 Miguel didn't know what that made him. Ryan's flat chest...Ryan's dick,
every bit of him obviously male. It didn't turn Miguel off. He wasn't even
thinking of a woman when they were together. At first he hadn't been
thinking about anything besides relief and another warm body. Now... he
thought of Ryan. Of being there in the moment with Ryan. He wondered if
Ryan thought of Gloria -- but that moan had not been Gloria's name and
those eyes had been *focused* on Miguel.

 Had Oz and too much time spent solitary made Miguel a maricon? He found
he didn't care, not right now. He still got hard watching Miss Sally...but
now he wanted to drag Ryan away afterwards. He also got hard for *Ryan*. 

 And who knew what the hell was up with Ryan. The guy came across as
straight, never taking a prag. But he had been the one to track Miguel
down, the one that had led the way...and the way he moved...

 Miguel wasn't a prag, that's what mattered. Ryan treated him like an
equal. They were...partners. They were sort of becoming friends, almost.
It felt good when nothing else did. Miguel decided he would just ride it
out.

 Miguel twirled the lollipop in his fingers before he slid the bow off the
end, being careful not to untie it, and put the droopy string back inside
his pillowcase. He did *not* put the lollipop back, because he wanted some
fucking sleep and that thing was fucking uncomfortable.

 Sneaky Irish bastard.

 **

 The next afternoon, after Miguel had ingratiated himself even further
back into El Norte's good graces, Miguel spotted Ryan playing cards in the
common room. El Cid wasn't around. Cyril was sitting with the one of the
other Irish in front of the televisions. Miguel was carrying the lollipop
Ryan had left him in his pocket. He got a very bad idea, and decided to
mess with O'Reily a little. In a *friendly* way, of course.

 He sat down at the next table with his book, pretending to ignore
O'Reily's table. Miguel pulled the lollipop out and proceeded to suck on
it casually as he read. Miguel swirled it around his mouth, sucking slow.
He watched Ryan out of the corner of his eye as he pretended to focus on
his book. The Irishman was glancing at him as he played cards,
discretely...and frequently.

 Miguel slurped on the candy and popped it wetly out of his mouth before
he slid it back in with another slurp. Ryan...twitched. It was just slight
enough that no one else paid attention, but Miguel saw it. It was
extremely fucking hard for Miguel to keep the smirk off of his face.
Especially when Ryan lost that hand. Guess he was distracted.

 Miguel ate the lollipop as slowly and thoroughly as possible. Keeping a
covert eye on Ryan all the while, he watched Ryan become more and more
fidgety. It was a lot of fucking fun to watch Ryan become more and more
distracted, doing his best to hide his growing arousal. Hey, Ryan had left
it for him, it was only fair that he got to watch Miguel *appreciate* it. 

 Ryan's game ended, everyone else wandering off, but Ryan stayed at the
table. He switched to solitaire as he kept an eye on Miguel, who was
making his lollipop last as long as possible. Miguel was getting off on
making Ryan's blood simmer. That little rush an undercurrent passing
privately between them. 

 Ryan played cards ever so slowly, taking ages before every move. He
slapped the cards around with a bit more passion than was probably
required. Miguel would bet that the Mick was barely even registering the
cards, even though he appeared to be carefully deliberating each move. Way
too much concentration for a simple game of solitaire. But they both knew
his real focus was on Miguel. Miguel wished he was close enough to see the
growing lust in those eyes, but he knew it was there anyway.

 When Miguel was finally done, he got up and bumped Ryan's chair as he
passed. "Having fun playing with yourself, O'Reily?" Miguel mocked as he
looked down at Ryan's game of solitaire. It was a normal, casual insult,
the kind always traded in here.

 Ryan shot him a look, and there it was, that fire in those eyes. It was
fucking lovely, and it stoked Miguel's own slow burn of desire. But Ryan
kept it carefully hidden by false disdain on his face. Truth and lies
mixing, always putting on a show. "I'd rather play with myself than with
you, hermano."

 The usual bite was in Ryan's voice, but it was missing from the unusually
lame retort. Miguel was gratified to see that Ryan was thrown off by his
desire. It wasn't a very good taunt, but neither was Miguel's. It was all
show. A secret language just between them that showed something else. Lust
and frustration in those green eyes. Ryan looking horny and irritated. As
usual. Miguel chuckled as he kept on walking.

 Ryan was probably dying from the tease of Miguel's display. Ryan knew
they had to keep their meetings even more hidden while El Cid was still
around. What Ryan didn't know was that Miguel would be cornering him later
on perfectly legitimate business ordered by El Cid himself. Miguel enjoyed
getting Ryan all worked up, but he wasn't cruel, or stupid. There was
nothing like a surprise. 

 **

 Later that day, Miguel spotted O'Reily and swooped in, backing him under
the stairs. "Time for a chat, O'Whitey." It was a gruff request, loud
enough for those within earshot to get the unfriendly, businesslike tone. 

 They were soon hidden from most prying eyes in the cold shadows, tucked
away deep under the stolen privacy of the stone. What fucking moron had
designed a prison with so many places to hide away? Miguel shoved Ryan
slightly once there was only one other set of eyes on them. 

 "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Ryan hissed out from between
clenched teeth, angry and confused. 

 Miguel kept his voice low and his back to the outside. "Calm down, but
look like I'm threatening you."

 Ryan's face went into that stone mask, playing along as he waited for an
explanation.

 "El Cid sent me. He wanted me to warn you away from slinging tits again.
I think he's hoping you'll kill me." Miguel smirked.

 Amusement flickered through Ryan's eyes but he stayed looking outwardly
defiant as he listened.

 "Now that everyone knows I didn't rat them out, he's backed off of me.
But he's still got a fucking problem with me. I think he was looking
forward to airholing me when he got out."

 "Is he an immediate danger?" Ryan asked, his voice deadly and calm. 

 Ryan went to ruthless and cold so fast, with none of the usual bemusement
of the game in his words. Miguel thought that maybe this was what a life
being expediently ended sounded like. It sounded almost...personal. If
Miguel didn't know better, he'd say Ryan was concerned for him again.

 Miguel quickly shook his head. "He doesn't have the excuse. It wouldn't
please the rest of El Norte. Everyone else has accepted me back, because I
ran shit while they were away and collected info for them. My allegiance
isn't in question anymore."

 And whatever it had been, that stone cold killer hint left Ryan's eyes
with Miguel's assurance. And when Ryan spoke that tone was gone, back to
the businesslike cadence he usually used. "He can't make an overt move.
Everybody's busy buzzing and preparing for war anyway. El Cid has other
problems. He'll be gone soon, just stay looking loyal."

 "Is he watching?" Ryan asked after a second.

 "Nah, someone else is though." Miguel smirked again. "My backup, keeping
the coast clear while I give you El Cid's message."

 Miguel stayed looming in front of Ryan, who was backed up against the
wall. To the outside world it would look like he was threatening a defiant
Ryan. Their body language portraying a heated discussion. But hidden deep
under the stairs, only Miguel's guy could see them anyway, and he couldn't
see much more than their basic stance, even when he was looking at them.
Ryan was being careful not to look intimidated, just in case probably, so
his rep wouldn't be affected.

 Ryan's eyes kept a discrete check over Miguel's shoulder. "It's Vasquez,
he's not really looking over here much."

 Just in case, and just for fun, Miguel lightly shoved Ryan's shoulder.
"Scary ain't I?"

 "Definitely." And if you really looked, and he felt like showing you, you
could see Ryan's real emotion hiding in his eyes. He was amused at the
moment, and as always there was that little spark. The bastard was always
fucking horny, at least when he was around Miguel. 

 Still in shadows and tucked away, Miguel pulled the little baggie he had
been carrying out of his pocket. Miguel carefully blocked the view with
his body, and slipped his hand into Ryan's pocket, depositing the pills
there. Miguel remembered that Ryan said Cyril had nightmares. Miguel also
remembered the hint of pain in Ryan's words.

 "For Cyril, to help him sleep." Miguel answered Ryan's unspoken question.
"They're from the hospital ward. They're safe, nothing hard, don't worry."

 Those green eyes focused intensely on Miguel for second before something
light and soft flitted across them. Whoa. Maybe Miguel was imagining
things.

 There was a weighty pause before Ryan spoke. "Thank you."

 Nope. It was there in that voice as well. The simple words were packed
with meaning...like Ryan wasn't used to saying them.

 Miguel accepted the rare, genuine gratitude with a soft grin. "De nada." 

 Miguel's hand had lingered in Ryan's pocket and as he pulled it out he
unintentionally brushed against Ryan's dick, only the thin fabric
separating them. Well, it was mostly unintentional, the subconscious mind
was a slippery fuck. Ryan's lips barely parted, letting out a small shock
of breath at the touch.

 Miguel smirked. He hadn't forgotten the gift left in his pillow or his
tease of earlier, Ryan deserved the rest of his present. Miguel looked at
the need in those eyes and decided to say 'fuck it'. Vasquez was out of
hearing range and couldn't really see shit between the stone, the shadows
and Miguel's body blocking what he was really doing. Vasquez's attention
was turned outward anyway, as he also made sure no one else got close. 

 Miguel's hand hovered over Ryan's groin, the worn material of Ryan's
pants just tickling his palm.

 Ryan didn't stop him. 

 Miguel pressed his hand close, cupping Ryan firmly. Fuck, he could *feel*
Ryan stiffen under his touch, filling his hand. Hard, perfect and so
fucking fast. Those eyes were dark and dilated as that stone expression
stayed on, just in case. Miguel rubbed Ryan through his pants, a firm
pressure as Ryan's breath came quickly from between his lips.

 "Is Vasquez still keeping an eye out, and keeping people away?"

 "Yesss."

 "Do you want me to stop?"

 "If you stop, I *will* kill you." The meaningless, joking threat was
breathless and sarcastic. 

 Miguel started a slow stroke up and down, feeling the clear outline of
Ryan through his pants. "He's not paying attention?"

 "No." The answer came out with a soft whine to it as Ryan's breath
hitched.

 "Gracias por el dulce." 

 "W...what?" 

 Miguel had the feeling Ryan could barely understand English at the
moment, let alone anything else, no matter how simple.

 "The lollipop, thank you. Very cute."

 "That was one hell of a show you put on with it."

 Miguel grinned wickedly as his hand kept moving, firm and sure friction
where Ryan needed it.

 "I thought...fuck...I thought you were such a fucking tease. It was all I
could do not to just go over and suck that fucking lollipop right out of
your mouth." Ryan said as he barely kept from bucking up as Miguel rubbed.
"I thought I'd have blue balls all fucking day." 

 Miguel could tell by the strain of his muscles that Ryan was trying to
keep from just grabbing Miguel right there. Ryan kept compulsively licking
his lips and Miguel wanted to kiss him, but that would be a bit too
obvious and risky. 

 "You really think I'm that cruel, tiburón?"

 Miguel continued to rub and stroke Ryan's dick with just the right
pressure to make Ryan's breath hitch in that sexy, needy way that Miguel
loved.

 "Mmm...No...you're very...very...nice." Ryan's voice faltered as he
gasped ever so softly.

 Their voices were quiet and low, Ryan's breathing heavy and loud as they
were so close -- but not close enough. Miguel hadn't realized this would
be torture for him. He hadn't really thought it through.

 "Just watching you..." Ryan spoke in a broken, husky whisper. "Fuck...you
always make me ache."

 The statement spilled from Ryan full of feeling, a subtle change from his
earlier crude words. There was a breathless vulnerability in that voice.
Ryan was showing how much he wanted Miguel, letting Miguel know what he
did to Ryan. It was another surprising little glimpse behind that exterior
for Miguel.

 Ryan was desperate and close, Miguel could tell just by the look in
Ryan's eyes and that hard heat under his hand. "Vasquez?" Miguel asked.

 "He's out of view." Ryan's desperation was echoed in his low strained
voice

 "Good, keep an eye out." Miguel said roughly before he quickly undid
Ryan's pants just enough to thrust his hand inside and finally wrap it
around Ryan's hard cock. 

 "Miguel..." It was a hoarse, grateful whisper of relief that slipped out
from between Ryan's lips.

 It made it all worth it. The risk, the fact that Miguel himself would not
be getting off, none of it mattered in the face of the neediness packed
into Ryan's utterance of his name.

 Miguel stroked fast and tight in the restricted space down Ryan's pants,
watching that fire dance in Ryan's eyes. "Let go for me, Ryan."

 Miguel pressed fully against Ryan now, loving the solid heat of his body.
A nearly inaudible groan escaped Ryan as he tilted his head back slightly.
That mask slipped, Ryan biting his lip as he came, pulsing under Miguel's
hand. 

 "Is the coast still clear?" Miguel asked, quickly as he removed his hand.

 Ryan just nodded, still slightly dazed.

 Miguel leaned in for a quick kiss, unable to resist that expression on
Ryan's face. Ryan instantly responded, nipping Miguel's lower lip as he
pulled back.

 "Mmm...you can threaten me anytime, gato."

 Miguel grinned and backed off completely. Miguel tugged at his pants
uncomfortably. He was half hard and there was nothing he could do about
it. Shit. He needed to learn to plan better.

 "Problem?" There was that laughter in Ryan's voice again, hidden in faux
innocence.

 Miguel just glared at him silently, before checking to make sure no one
was looking, not even Vasquez. Ryan had moved so that his face was hidden
from outside view, and he could finally safely drop that stone mask
completely.

 "I've got a solution, but you're not going to like it." Ryan said, still
far too amused, before he leaned in to whisper huskily in Miguel's ear,
words burrowing straight into his brain. "Think of...El
Cid...naked...hard...and fucking Guerra."

 Shit. That did it. Miguel shuddered in revulsion. "Pendejo. *You're* the
cruel one."

 "Worked though, didn't it?" Ryan patted the side of Miguel's face.
"Besides, I'm the one that has to make it back to his pod with his shorts
full of jizz."

 "True." Miguel chuckled at that, smirking. "Although, if you don't stop
with those disgusting fucking visuals about El Cid, I'm never touching you
again. I'll be fucking impotent."

 Ryan faked a look of horror, before moving a finger over his lips. "Never
again."

 Miguel smiled, before his face settled back into it's own mask with
regret. "Time to go back, now that you've been *thoroughly* warned away
from the tit trade. Any information I should have gotten out of you?"

 "Nah, everything's set for now. You should start dosing El Cid soon."

 "Consider it done." Miguel said before shaking his head slightly. "I
can't believe I'm actually trying to piss the angry motherfucker off
*more*."

 "Use your judgment, if you think he's already on edge enough, let his
natural charm handle it. Just get word to me so I'll stop spicing up his
meals." There was that worry lurking in Ryan's demeanor again. "Be
careful. We want him pissed at Pancamo, not you." 

 And it wasn't worry that Miguel couldn't get the job done. It was that
worry *for* Miguel. It threw Miguel off again. Just another little shock,
adding up slowly. More evidence that Ryan wanted a real partner, that he
didn't think of Miguel as a pawn. Miguel just nodded in response.

 Ryan gave him one more quick devilish grin. "Now go and play nice with
the Cro-Magnon man."

 Miguel snorted, and jabbed a finger gently into Ryan's chest as he went
to leave. "I told you to stop that, I don't need to be thinking of that
motherfucker and sex."

 Ryan grimaced slightly. "I didn't mean *that* nice. Now I have to go see
Sister Pete, I'm so emotionally scarred."

 Miguel grinned, quick and bright, before he finally left the safety under
the stairs. His own mask of stone falling back into place as he went to
collect Vasquez and head back to El Norte's table.

 ~ Chapter 6: Friction and Faith ~

 Ryan slunk down the hall near the hospital ward and the cafeteria, making
his way to the janitor's closet that was perfect for quick meetings with
Miguel while he was working his shift in the infirmary. Miguel should
already be there, and Ryan didn't want to leave him alone growing antsy in
the small space for too long. It had been two days since Miguel's pleasant
surprise under the stairs. They didn't really have any business to
discuss. El Cid was already starting to unravel nicely and the tension
between the gangs was getting even thicker every day. The fucking boxing
was even called off, or 'postponed' according to Murphy, delaying Cyril's
final match. Ryan didn't have time to deal with it right now. He was
starting to wonder if waiting until El Cid took a dirt nap to hold the
final match wouldn't be a good plan. It was all for show, to make Cyril
look good, and nobody was paying any fucking attention at the moment. 

 Then Ryan heard footsteps approaching and someone turned into the hall,
apparently heading for the same closet. Busmalis. Shit. The old fuck was
whistling and had his little wheeled bucket and mop. Wait a minute. It
*was* the closet where the cleaning supplies for the hospital ward were
kept, but Busmalis shouldn't be here now. He already had his shit and he
was no where near the end of his shift. Ryan had kept a careful eye on the
scheduling and movements of people. 

 Busmalis spotted him and stopped with a stumbling jerk, low whistling
faltering as his eyes darted around nervously.

 Hmmm....

 Ryan strolled over, casual and cool. Like this was where he belonged.
Ryan's self possession and seeming sense of purpose threw Busmalis even
further off. The guy was practically sweating.

 "Yo, Busmalis...what are you doing here man?" Ryan tilted his head,
studying the man like Ryan was in the right and Busmalis was in the wrong.

 "Oh...Hiya, O'Reily!" He practically knocked over his fucking bucket, he
was so jittery. "I'm cleaning...the halls. That's my job you know...to
clean." He started whistling again, starting to nervously push his mop
around, haphazardly cleaning and looking guilty as sin.

 Yeah, he was definitely up to something. But, as far as Ryan could tell,
it was guilt and fear about his own secrets, not suspicion about what Ryan
was up to. The guy was lost in his own head, panicking, and it had nothing
to do with Ryan. Since he wasn't an immediate threat to Ryan and Miguel's
goings on, Ryan decided to file it away and just make the motherfucker
scram for now. He could ferret out what Busmalis was hiding later, if he
had time. Hell, the guy might just be sneaking a break or stealing or
something. As long as it wasn't about Ryan or Miguel, it could wait.

 Now to get the fucker to leave. He was afraid of Ryan, and knew to steer
clear, and he was obviously worried about being caught where he wasn't
supposed to be, so it shouldn't be hard to make him scatter.

 **

 After Ryan made Busmalis rabbit off in fear of being found out
doing...whatever the hell the old fuck was up to, Ryan slipped back to the
supply closet himself. Miguel was already in there, looking a little
jittery himself. Miguel really didn't like being in small spaces alone and
Ryan had made him wait. Dammit. Ryan immediately went over without
thinking, almost embracing Miguel in greeting. Ryan threw an arm around
Miguel as he ran his hand comfortingly up Miguel's arm, ending by rubbing
the back of Miguel's neck. Miguel unconsciously relaxed quickly under the
touch.

 "We've got mice hanging around outside." Ryan explained his lateness.

 Miguel was leaning into him, his own hand idly stroking over Ryan's arm.
"Who?"

 Ryan enjoyed the pleasant touch and the easy nearness. "Busmalis. Have
you seen him around here before?"

 "Well, this is where he keeps his cleaning shit...but he's supposed to be
working in the ward already and he had his supplies..."

 "Nah, he was acting...squirrelly. He wasn't supposed to be here."

 Miguel tensed. "You think he knows..."

 "No." Ryan answered quickly. He didn't want Miguel getting paranoid and
running off. "He was fucking surprised to see me. Guilty. He's up to
something on his own, keep an eye on him."

 "Maybe we should just go." Miguel pulled away to head towards the door.

 No. That wouldn't do. Ryan played it cool, waving it off as he slunk back
towards Miguel. "Nah, I scared him off."

 And then Ryan was back within range of that heat, sharing space with
Miguel's body as he relaxed back against the wall at Ryan's assurance.

 "I owe you, remember?" Ryan breathed against Miguel's neck before he
tilted his head to look Miguel in the eyes. "Unless you really want me to
leave?" 

 Ryan pressed into Miguel for the briefest moment, feeling him along every
inch of his body, before he pulled back teasingly, pretending he was going
to go.

 Miguel automatically grabbed a fistful of the front of Ryan's shirt and
gave a firm tug, pulling Ryan back to him. Ryan went eagerly, melding with
Miguel's body as Miguel licked and nipped at his lips with little playful
kisses. 

 "Teasing Mick." Miguel chuckled fondly, just a little bit breathless. "Is
that why you wanted to meet? You don't owe me, tiburón. I'm not keeping
score."

 "I know." Ryan said with smooth confidence. But actually, he hadn't been
quite as sure as he sounded. Ryan had been careful to always give what he
got, keeping the deal. He knew Miguel wasn't used to fucking with a guy,
*hadn't* before, and was somehow willing and eager to be with Ryan...but
Ryan hadn't known how far it went. Ryan had known that desire was lurking
under the surface, and was happily surprised that Miguel was giving in to
it so readily. It was looking like Miguel wanted Ryan as much as Ryan
wanted him, and was willing to admit it now. 

 Besides...Ryan fucking *liked* it. He liked making Miguel shudder and
come. He loved the way Miguel kissed him while Miguel got off. He liked
seeing Miguel that way, liked making him that way. Ryan didn't even need
Miguel to reciprocate every single time. It was fucking wonderful when he
could though. That day under the stairs had been so fucking nice. And
unexpected. 

 "I felt bad. You had to go get locked up with El Cid, you couldn't jerk
off. Him listening to you, that's fucking unappealing. Wouldn't want to
give him ideas."

 Right now Ryan wanted to concentrate on Miguel. If Miguel wanted to
return the favor, that would be fucking fantastic, but if Ryan left with
that sweet aching pull...well, that was okay too. Ryan would see him
again. They would do this again. That thought brought unexpected comfort
to Ryan.

 "I told you to stop that." Miguel said, exasperated, punching him in the
arm, light and playful.

 Ryan chuckled and tilted his hips to rub against Miguel's groin.
"Hmm...you don't feel impotent." Then he slid his hand around the waist of
Miguel's scrubs, just barely dipping down to touch soft skin. "Maybe I
should investigate further."

 The first thing he did was strip Miguel of his shirt. Not strictly
necessary for a quickie in the supply closet. But Ryan wanted to see
Miguel.

 He liked looking at Miguel far too much. It wasn't just desperation for
any touch. That light bronze skin and tight, defined muscles were
beginning to turn him on as much as the soft curve of a breast. Strength
and power evident...yet Miguel was compact and sleek at the same time.
Dangerous. Beautiful. 

 Ryan pushed Miguel's scrub pants down enough to view that slim waist and
free Miguel. Ryan ran his hand over a bicep, idly tracing a tattoo as his
other hand slid down, bypassing that dick for the moment to cup Miguel's
balls in a warm grasp.

 Ryan tasted Miguel's neck with little flicks of his tongue that sent
shivers through the Latino. Miguel's head thumped back against the wall as
he groaned, exposing more of his neck. 

 "Mmm...so warm." Ryan hummed against Miguel's skin. 

 "You have that effect on me, baby." Miguel's low growl of a voice was so
close.

 "That's not the only effect, gato."

 Ryan finally slid his hand up Miguel's cock. Root to tip, just barely
grazing the hard shaft with his fingertips. Ryan felt Miguel quiver as he
teased him.

 "Cruel."

 "I'll be nice." Ryan whispered against the crook of Miguel's neck as he
firmly grasped Miguel, closing his hand around warm, hard flesh.

 Ryan's lips moved across Miguel's collarbone, soft, wet kisses as he
started stroking Miguel.

 Miguel panted. "You know what I was thinking about the other day, under
the stairs?"

 "New Years resolutions?" Ryan asked innocently.

 "I wanted to kiss you so fucking bad. Kiss me, please."

 Ryan could hear the desperate truth in that rough plea tugging at him.
That's what Miguel wanted? That's what he had been thinking about,
kissing? Ryan knew the feeling. A small moan escaped Ryan involuntarily,
just the thought sending a pleasant buzz through him. Ryan gave Miguel
what he wanted, starting with the softest touch of their mouths, licking
at Miguel's lips before his tongue slipped inside to taste and thrust.
Turning into a deep clinging kiss that Ryan could feel everywhere, heat
spreading through him with each stroke of Miguel's tongue tangling with
his. Ryan could kiss Miguel for hours.

 Ryan gripped Miguel tight, speeding up his strokes, just the way Miguel
liked. He lost himself in Miguel's mouth. Those passionate kisses, that
perfect soft pull. Ryan moaned into Miguel's mouth. He was focused on the
heat of Miguel in his hand, against his lips, as Miguel came gasping. 

 Ryan continued kissing Miguel slowly, stealing away his breath just as he
tried to catch it. Miguel pulled his scrubs back up, cleaning up quickly
without moving away from Ryan, leaving his shirt off. Ryan's fervor had
turned into a slow burn as he returned to kissing gently down Miguel's
neck, pressed up against the warm bare skin of Miguel's chest. Ryan was
fully clothed, hard and untouched against Miguel's hip, but he was content
for the moment to just relax here, leaning into Miguel's body as the
Latino came down. 

 Miguel ran his hand over Ryan's hair, stroking him. Which of them was
supposed to be the cat again?

 "I like you like this." Miguel's voice was soft and warm.

 "What? Making you come in a closet?" 

 Miguel chuckled. "Nah, not the sex. I like seeing you. You know...
beneath all the bullshit, you're not that bad. I kinda wish I could see
you more." 

 And Ryan would bet that Miguel hadn't meant to say that. Miguel was in
that warm post-orgasmic haze, brain probably not functioning up to speed,
and it sounded like it had just slipped out of his mouth. 

 Ryan just hummed and turned into Miguel's caress. Ryan didn't quite
understand him completely, but he had a feeling that Miguel wasn't talking
about just physically spending more time with him. Ryan tried to draw a
clarification out of him. 

 "After El Cid is gone we won't have to hide our business
relationship...we can be seen talking to each other more." Ryan said it
casually. But, surprisingly enough, Ryan had been looking forward to that.
Miguel was pretty good company, and Ryan had found himself wanting to see
more of him too.

 "Mmm...good." Miguel hesitated, tensing a little as he seemed to realize
the thoughts flowing easily out of his mouth. But he didn't stop saying
them. "I'd like that. But I meant...I like seeing this part of you, behind
the mask." 

 Ryan didn't know what to say to that and Miguel looked a little wary of
Ryan's reaction.

 Now Ryan was tempted to say things he probably shouldn't, unable to help
it in the face of Miguel's disarming honesty. "I can't show this to the
scumfucks in here." 

 It begged the question of why he showed it to Miguel...and felt
comfortable doing so.

 "I know. You only show it to me, only a little. Thank you." Miguel said
in that rough voice as those deep, dark eyes soaked Ryan in. 

 Oh...that was why. Miguel's words and that soft calmness in his gaze sent
a warm little flutter through Ryan. Shit. Miguel carded his fingers
through Ryan's hair, still petting him, that constant caress feeling so
damn good and spreading that low heat throughout Ryan's body. 

 Miguel stared at him for a minute before speaking more seriously. "What
do you get out of this?" Miguel clarified. "Our partnership?"

 Ryan cast a lewd glance southward, pressing into Miguel's body. But it
was a thought that was on Ryan's mind lately, not because he didn't know
what he was getting out of it...but because what he wanted out of this
partnership was quickly changing into something even more than he had
planned. Something better.

 Miguel chuckled. "Besides getting your horny ass laid, I mean?"

 Ryan cocked his head in question, wanting to know Miguel's exact thoughts
on the subject. This was a very strange conversation, and he was having an
unusually hard time following it, maybe it was the proximity and the fact
that all his blood wasn't in his head. Maybe it was the inexplicable rush
brought by that look in Miguel's eyes.

 Miguel clarified. "You're going through all this trouble to get El Cid
out of the way, planning it all out. All I do is follow your lead, and I'm
the one that needs the motherfucker gone."

 "I told you, when you're in charge we'll be partners in the tit trade,
and I'll have El Norte as an ally."

 Miguel shook his head slightly, chewing on his lower lip. "That's it? It
doesn't seem worth all the dancing your skinny ass has been doing. You
already had Adebisi on your side."

 "Adebisi is going fucking nuts, and is rediscovering his people." Bitter
mockery evident in those last words. "I'm too fucking pale now. My
partnership with him was...different, anyway." 

 He could never really depend on Adebisi or let him in on everything, it
was just another game he had to play. Ryan considered how much he wanted
to say, and decided to chance it by telling the truth. Taking another step
towards letting Miguel in on his mind and plans. Besides, Miguel was a
smart guy, he already knew the way Ryan moved. "And it's not really more
effort on my part. The way I usually work...I trick someone into doing
shit for me, making them think it's what they want. That takes time and
coaxing and even more planning. Now with you... for some of that I can
just tell you what we need done and you do it. It's easier in the long
run."

 "You're still spreading rumors and manipulating people and shit. And I
need El Cid gone more than you do."

 He hadn't tricked Miguel into it though, Ryan had just made him admit
what he already wanted, and Miguel knew that. El Cid, as annoying as that
ugly motherfucker was, wasn't someone Ryan really needed eliminated. It
was a war Ryan was waging mainly to help Miguel. In a way, Ryan *was*
doing a lot of the work, at the moment anyway, but Ryan knew that setting
up things properly took effort. In the long run, Miguel as a partner would
be worth it.

 "Yeah, but you're helping." Ryan pinned Miguel with his best honest gaze,
and for once it wasn't utter bullshit. "I told you...I want a partner. I
need more stability. So do you."

 Miguel studied him for a moment before he accepted it as the truth and
nodded. "I've got your back, tiburón."

 Ryan believed him. And that was why Ryan did it. If he really wanted
Miguel helping him, a real partner and ally, which is where this was
heading now, this was what Ryan needed to do. And Ryan had finally decided
to go all the way with it. Make it *real*. It would feel so fucking good
to have someone he could depend on again. He needed it now. And Miguel was
turning out to just...fit. Perfectly.

 "I'm the brawn, you're the brains, right?" Miguel joked with a smirk.

 Ryan grinned with him, laughing softly. "Something like that."

 Miguel looked thoughtful. "Just having an ally in here...it helps knowing
someone's there."

 And that was it exactly. That's what Ryan had been secretly wanting since
he'd landed here. It was dangerous though, the trust required was hard to
come by, especially for Ryan. He'd been wary of it before, keeping himself
to artificial alliances, working with people he could manipulate, never
having someone really at his back, never letting them in. The closest he'd
come was Beecher before the cancer, they had almost been headed that way,
slowly. But they'd both pulled back, Ryan dealing with cancer and getting
lost with Gloria, Beecher losing what was left of his mind and finding
Keller. That had been back when Ryan thought he'd get out, when he was
alone, when it was easier to move. Now Ryan was in it for the long haul,
with Cyril.

 "It's more than that though...this isn't just about me." Ryan said. He
had decided to go ahead and lay it all out for Miguel, let him all the way
in. "I need Cyril protected. I can do that better if I have help with
shit."

 Cyril couldn't have Ryan's back quite like he used to, but just Cyril's
presence and his love was a comfort Ryan could lean on. That love and
support was something that Ryan had always relied on, even when Cyril was
driving him nuts. Cyril was the one constant in his life, and Ryan needed
him. Needed to keep them both safe, and Miguel could help with that. It
was so much harder now with Ryan trying to keep all those balls in the air
by himself. Ryan needed to do something before the stress of keeping it
together became too much and he lost his steps. 

 Miguel nodded. "Don't worry. I've got it."

 At the moment, Miguel was focused on El Cid. But Miguel was definitely
pulling his weight and when the need arose, Miguel would be right there
for Ryan, without any of the barely controlled chaos or bloodthirst of
Adebisi. Ryan spent a lot of his time 'handling' Adebisi, steering him the
way Ryan wanted. Adebisi was never someone Ryan could really depend on or
trust. Ryan kept Adebisi in the dark about a lot of things. And he
definitely couldn't touch Adebisi like he did Miguel. Nor did he want to.
Hell, he didn't even like spending time around that crazy fuck anymore. In
the end...Adebisi had always been just another chess piece for Ryan to
move. Miguel could be more than that.

 Once El Cid was out of the way, Ryan would have Miguel's strength and
cunning on his side. Even now, Ryan could see it. Miguel was showing his
potential. He was capable, and understood Ryan's plans without much
trouble. They worked well together, fluid and instinctual. Miguel was a
man of his word, that elusive *loyalty* that was so rare. As long as you
didn't turn on him, like El Cid stupidly had. 

 "Good. I'm thinking of the future, Miguel. I see the big picture." 

 Ryan could plan, he could see the steps ahead like no other fucker in
here. He needed a hand helping him carry those plans out, to help ease the
weight of it all being on Ryan's shoulders. And someone to bounce ideas
off of, another viewpoint, would help him hone his plans, tweaking the
details, sharpening them to a razor's edge. On the outside with Cyril,
even before the accident, Ryan had done most of the heavy lifting when it
came to plotting his schemes. Having someone at his back, supporting him,
was what Ryan missed. Someone he could share all those details with,
someone that understood them, helped his process. A mind that he could
brainstorm with. 

 Being trapped alone in his own constantly moving mind was a slowly
building strain. Ryan was tired of dancing alone. And Miguel was falling
into to step with him so well. Miguel felt like...more than a pawn, more
than just someone in Ryan's pocket. Miguel could be someone who looked out
for him, instead of just working with him. And Ryan found himself looking
out for Miguel in turn.

 Ryan tilted his head, looking into Miguel's eyes, deciding to reach out,
testing their alliance. "In fact...I could use your help with something."

 "What?" Miguel asked, quick and curious, willing to help.

 Ryan just had to kiss him again for that, long slide of Ryan's tongue in
his mouth, stealing his breath and making Miguel press into him.

 He pulled away as Miguel laughed softly. "Ah...you need that kind of
help." 

 Miguel rubbed against Ryan lasciviously, and Ryan couldn't help but move
with him, moaning slightly at the friction before he remembered what he
was going to say. And Miguel, while eager, seemed slightly disappointed at
the thought that Ryan just wanted sex. Miguel was wrong about that though,
and Ryan was going to correct it.

 "Nah...but hold that thought." Ryan leered before he continued. "I
actually need your help with something else. I need you to keep an eye on
somebody for me, as much as you can."

 "Who?"

 That disappointment slid away, and Miguel's hand slipped down,
distracting him again as they talked. Ryan loved Miguel's new ability to
multitask.

 "Stanislofsky. Nothing big. Just watch him if you see him, listen for
anything interesting."

 Ryan knew it was a risk, that Russkie cocksucker was a bit too close to
the truth behind the boxing matches, and it was dangerous to put Miguel on
that trail. Ryan had royally fucked Miguel over with the boxing, but that
had been before their current arrangement. Ryan could deal with it if
Miguel found out, although it would take some finessing.

 But Stanislofsky was a perfect example of why Ryan wanted help. The guy
was dangerous, and Ryan could use Miguel's eyes, his outside opinion, his
moves, if the guy emerged as a credible threat. Ryan needed backup to
comfortably deal with things like this, to alleviate the strain
overwhelming him lately.

 "The Russian? What the hell's he got to do with us?" Miguel asked, purely
curious, no reluctance in his voice.

 "Not you, me."

 Miguel smirked. "You piss him off already?"

 "Nah, of course not." Ryan said faux innocently.

 "Mmm hmm..." Miguel, rightly didn't believe him and now looked highly
amused. "Don't worry, I'll be your spy in your cold war."

 Ryan smiled at that. And fuck...if Ryan was going to tie himself to a
real ally, this was what he wanted. Someone that amused him, that he
enjoyed spending time with...and that made him come like a freight train.
Speaking of...

 "So you don't need help with this then?" Miguel asked as he slid one leg
between Ryan's, pressing up against Ryan's aching cock.

 Ryan groaned and leaned into it. "Mmm..."

 Ryan braced his hands on the wall on either side of Miguel's head. So
fucking good. Ryan rocked against Miguel. But right as he started to revel
in that slow friction burn of relief, he glanced at the bulky and
unfamiliar watch on his wrist. Shit. Ryan groaned again, but this time it
was full of regret. "We don't have time. I have to get back." 

 "Are *you* keeping score?" Miguel asked in a low voice. 

 "No, trust me, merely unfortunate circumstances. If you're not holding
that strictly to our tit for tat deal, then neither am I." Ryan said.
Yeah, their deal was definitely shifting...and Ryan found that he liked
the way it was moving. He liked what it was turning into. Even if he
didn't know what it meant yet. "Besides, it was plenty of fun just to
watch you come." Ryan finished wickedly.

 Fuck. The intense, sucking kiss that earned Ryan rocked him right down to
the floor. He wished desperately they had more time. Ryan *may* have
whimpered when Miguel pulled away. But he wouldn't swear to it in court.

 "Since when do you wear a watch?"

 Ryan wasn't going to admit out loud that Miguel had a tendency to
dangerously make him lose his sense of time, and he'd deliberately worn
one to be safe. "Better safe than sorry. We've got to watch it gato, if
we're going to be doing this as often as we are."

 That was an admittance all itself, an abandonment of the earlier plan to
keep apart for a while. Ryan couldn't help it, these little snatches of
time he spent with Miguel were turning out to be rare bright spots in his
days. So many plans were changing, but Ryan knew -- the best plans moved
fluidly and naturally with the circumstances.

 Miguel's hand stroked over the unusual watch, part of a large leather
wrist cuff instead of a usual band. "This huge leather motherfucker is
going to get stolen."

 "People don't steal from me." Which was mostly true. But while it was
camouflaged slightly by the fact that it looked like a wrist cuff at a
glance, he'd caught Adebisi, the fucking watch thief, greedily eyeing it a
couple of times.

 Miguel finally pulled away with a wry shake of his head. "Of course not,
tiburón. Stupid me."

 Ryan wanted nothing more than to pull him back. Fuck. He had to get it
together. Covering up part of the distraction might help. He picked
Miguel's shirt up off the floor, tossing it back to him. "Remember, keep
an eye out for Busmalis."

 Miguel nodded, pulling on the thin scrub shirt. "See you later, Ryan."

 Miguel left first, leaving Ryan to try to get his body under control
before he went back out to face the game.

 **

 The next day, Ryan sat casually on a bed in the infirmary as a nurse
examined his arm. He wasn't keeping up his usual flirt, he was too busy
scanning the ward for a certain orderly. 

 "Well, it looks fine. It's a little red and irritated, but it's healed up
nicely." The nurse said, drawing his attention back to the matter at hand,
the freshly healing scar on his arm.

 "Yeah, it just itches."

 "It itches?" 

 Ryan could tell she wasn't buying it as she shook her head.

 "I can give you a cream to apply to help the irritation, but that's it."
She sighed and left to get it, but Ryan wasn't paying attention anymore
because Miguel was in sight and coming over.

 "Yo, O'Reily." Miguel came to stand near him, tidying the bed next to the
one Ryan was sitting on. "Did something happen?" Miguel asked quietly,
concerned. It was clear he was asking about Ryan, not their plans.

 "Nah, I'm fine."

 The nurse had returned, slapping a small tube of some anti-itch shit in
his hand. 

 "He's itchy." Disbelief and weariness clear in the woman's tone.

 Ryan wished the bitch would just leave, but couldn't think of a way to
get her to leave them alone without her just sending him on his way back.

 Miguel chuckled. "I'll make sure he gets back to EmCity, they need you
over with Johnson, he's fucking complaining again."

 The nurse rushed off to attend to the other patient. Problem solved by
his gato then. Ryan blinked at Miguel in question.

 Miguel shrugged, smirking. "The nurses like and trust me. I'm *helpful*.

 "I'll bet."

 "How did you even get in here with an excuse as lame as itchy?"

 "I'm charming..." Ryan gave him his best teasing smile. "...and it's
Gloria's day off, so they're not as worried about my ulterior motives."

 "What exactly is itching you?" Miguel's gaze flicked down Ryan's body. "I
told you you'd pick something up."

 "Ha ha." Ryan said mirthlessly. "No, it's my arm." 

 Ryan turned his arm over to show Miguel the scar where Shannon's name
used to be.

 Miguel hissed lowly under his breath. "Shit...that must've felt
pleasant." Miguel briefly ran a finger over the scar. "Is it really
bothering you or did you just need something?"

 Ryan shook his head, keeping an eye out to see if anyone was paying
attention to them. "Everything's fine, running smooth. My fucking arm
really is itching the hell out of me."

 And that was mostly true. The scar tissue was tight and dry, tingling and
itching him like bugs under his skin. But it may have been mostly
mental...he had kind of just wanted to see Miguel. Ryan wouldn't generally
come to the infirmary for such a small thing unless he got to see Gloria.

 Ryan was distracted from following that thought as Miguel casually took
the tube out of Ryan's hand Miguel grasped his arm, touch firm but
careful...and so fucking warm. Ryan just stared as Miguel applied a small
amount of the cream to Ryan's scar. The odd unnecessary kindness was
casual and without thought. Like it was natural. Miguel just automatically
helping Ryan for no reason. Miguel just kept talking as he rubbed the cool
cream into Ryan's skin. His gentle rubbing touch sent warmth sparking up
Ryan's arm.

 "There. Better?" Miguel asked, amused, as he finished.

 "Yeah." Ryan answered casually, trying to hide the flutter under his skin
at Miguel's touch. It had nothing to do with sex...and it still felt
wonderful. Ryan hadn't wanted it to stop.

 "Why'd you do it?" Miguel was serious now as he stared, one finger
gliding over Ryan's arm, not quite touching the scar.

 Ryan looked around again to make sure no one was paying them any mind.
There were no conscious patients nearby, and the nurses just bustled by
ignoring them. Instead of answering, Ryan gestured to the long, older scar
marring Miguel's face. "Why did you do that?"

 Miguel didn't mind the avoidance, he just tilted his head, studying Ryan.
"You really want to know?"

 When Ryan nodded slightly, Miguel continued. His voice was low, tinged
with a deep sadness and turned inside himself. "I was fucking crazy. I did
it for my baby. I thought...God was punishing me." Miguel shrugged
slightly. "I couldn't do anything to help keep him alive...so I did this."
Miguel shook his head. "Nobody gets it."

 Shit. But Ryan thought maybe he did. "Like penance?"

 "Yeah." Miguel blinked at Ryan in slight surprise, before letting out a
dark, weary sigh. "It didn't help."

 "Yeah...God never fucking helped me either. He doesn't make deals."
Ryan's voice contained a similar darkness, the bitterness of his years
being abandoned, by the priests that were supposed to help people and a
deity that didn't give a fuck, almost slipping to the surface.

 "Is that why you're always fucking yawning during Father Ray's service?"
Miguel joked with a little smile.

 Ryan shrugged. "The words don't mean anything. I only go out of habit."
As earnest as the good Father appeared, the church had turned it's back on
Ryan long ago and Ryan had done the same. Miguel still seemed to believe
though, and it puzzled Ryan. Maybe Ryan missed having the faith that he'd
lost after he'd learned the cruel truth, the catholic church and god and
everyone involved were just like everyone else -- not to be relied on.
"How can you still believe in that shit after everything?" 

 Ryan didn't know what compelled him to ask, but he partially just wanted
to keep talking.

 "I don't know...I just do." It was Miguel's turn to shrug thoughtfully,
he'd stopped touching Ryan now...and Ryan felt the loss. "Just because I'm
pissed, or I don't understand, doesn't mean I don't believe."

 Ryan just shook his head. There were some things about the loco Latino
that he wouldn't ever understand. Miguel's faith certainly hadn't seemed
to help him any...then again, considering Sister Pete and Father Ray's
support of Miguel, maybe it did.

 Ryan's mind wandered back to Miguel's original question. "I did this..."
Ryan ran his hand over his scar. "...because I was fucking crazy." Ryan
said with a little smirk before he continued more seriously, voice going
quiet. "I did it for her."

 "Gloria?"

 "Yeah..." She hadn't been at the forefront of Ryan's mind lately, and he
hadn't even really noticed. And it seemed more and more like every time he
did think of her, it was out of habit. He couldn't quite remember the
feeling of fevered conviction he'd had when he'd went fucking nuts and
slowly scraped away the trace of Shannon on his skin...but he did remember
that he'd been secretly hoping his obsession with Gloria could be
scratched away as well. "It was fucking stupid." 

 Miguel snorted, and looked at Ryan like he was the crazy one. "No shit."

 Ryan remembered that Miguel had seen it, his love for Gloria, and
dismissed it as impossible. 'There's no love in Oz.' But whatever was
happening to Ryan's feelings about Gloria -- he would always believe that
the possibility existed. That was one area where Miguel's miraculous faith
was lacking.

 Ryan saw that things in the ward were starting to shift, a guard
patrolling near now and patients coming in sight. Time to go. He had to
get back to Cyril anyway.

 "I should head back." Ryan took his little bottle of ointment and stood
up regretfully.

 "Yeah...I've got shit to do." 

 "You've got people to fucking annoy." Ryan said with a smirk. "One in
particular."

 Miguel took the hint that he was talking about El Cid and gave him a
coded progress report. "Yeah...some people are so easy to piss off.
They've got so many enemies." 

 Sounded like thing were still going well then. Good.

 Miguel winked at him before he beckoned a guard over to take Ryan back to
Emcity.

 ~ Chapter 7: Festivities and Fists ~

 Ryan was delivering lunch again while Miguel worked in the hospital ward.
He was moving far more quickly and efficiently than usual. As Miguel
discretely watched Ryan being an uncharacteristically hard worker, his
mind centered on the Irishman.

 Miguel had thought he'd said too much the other day closeted away with
Ryan. But it had turned out...good.

 Ryan had been right there the next day, showing Miguel even more. It had
only been around two weeks, such a small amount of time in the long
stretch of his days here. But in here anything that broke up the dull mind
numbing routine, anything real and bright against the gray, seemed to last
forever, filling up all the empty space and standing out. And in that
short but hyper-real time, Miguel was already deep into dangerous
territory...and he didn't feel like turning back.

 He was starting to trust Ryan -- and that was potentially more suicidal
than any noose. Miguel had tried feeling Ryan out, asking questions about
their partnership. Searching for clues, for any sign of that web of
ulterior motives Ryan had for everything. Searching for any sign that this
was anything more than what he said it was, that his plans for Miguel were
something else. Listening not just to his words, but what was underneath.
Miguel vainly looked for a trap, but everything Ryan said...Miguel
believed him. It only made that trust seem more right.

 It all seemed to be exactly what it felt like. An ally. A fucking friend.
Looking out for each other, bringing each other relief. Relief with that
little spark of growing joy underneath.

 Miguel was so fucking screwed if he was wrong. Maybe this was what Ryan
did, his real talent. Making everything seem so real, so comfortable.
Making you think you were crawling inside. Maybe it was all a show. The
guy had gotten his own fucking brother locked up, for a completely self
serving reason. Yet, Miguel wanted to trust him. Wanted so much from him. 

 Fucking suicide. Miguel tried to tell himself, tried to remind himself.
Ryan would turn on him. Ryan would not keep him safe. Ryan couldn't be
trusted completely by anyone, even his own blood. But Miguel was so
fucking lost. All day spent pushing El Cid closer to the edge, and Ryan
always there too. In Miguel's head.

 Ryan seemed more and more human, more like someone Miguel fucking
*liked*, cared about and understood. But then there were those facts
Miguel tried to hold on to, those facts that now contradicted everything
Miguel felt. 

 Ryan turned on everyone.

 Ryan was only out for himself.

 It was all crashing together in Miguel's head. Past facts clashing with
everything Miguel saw of Ryan now, everything he felt around the man.

 It had been so much easier when Ryan was just another fucking asshole
taking advantage of Miguel's predicament, when working with him was just
the business of survival. Before Ryan showed him those glimpses of a soul,
flashes that he cared. 

 Such a short time and Ryan was making him feel...not alone for the first
time in his life.

 It could be suicide. Or it could be something so good it would be crazy
to give it up. And every time Miguel looked at Ryan, really looked at that
skeleton under the skin, Miguel was more convinced it was the latter. 

 Shit. Now Ryan was the one making Miguel slack off. He'd been making a
bed for the past fifteen minutes. Shit.

 Ryan passed him on his way out, having finished in record time while
unknowingly distracting Miguel.

 "Supply closet." Ryan muttered under his breath, barely heard over the
rattle of the cart, gone practically before the words even reached
Miguel's brain.

 And Miguel felt that little spark of anticipation. He wanted to get
away...with the person he was trying to get away from. He was so very
fucked up.

 Miguel snuck away shortly after. He smirked as he passed the lunch cart,
left unattended in an empty hall. Like Ryan was off delivering food to the
private rooms, not hanging in a closet.

 Miguel slipped into the small room, which was rapidly becoming almost
comfortably familiar. Ryan was there waiting for him. Miguel tried to
shove down all the little doubts and fears crawling around his brain. Just
for this moment. 

 "I can't be away for too long, we didn't have anything planned."

 Ryan just grinned secretively. "Don't worry, just a quick surprise."

 Miguel finally noticed that Ryan had a covered food tray sitting on a
shelf.

 "You brought food? I'm not hungry."

 "Nah." Ryan shook his head as he uncovered the plate with a small
flourish. "You thirsty?"

 Ryan had revealed a bottle of vodka, lying down on the tray next to two
shot glasses. "Happy New Year's."

 And Miguel had almost forgotten again. The only way he measured years
anymore was by parole hearings and time served. The landmark of a new year
not mattering on January first, but on the day it meant one less year on
his sentence. But here Ryan was again, reminding him of normal things he'd
celebrated on the outside. Sharing them with him.

 *

 Ryan saw that odd little smile flit across Miguel's face at his surprise.
It was a welcome sight, and what he had been hoping for. They'd been
locked down last night, when the clock chimed twelve, signaling the real
new year. Cyril had been asleep already and Ryan wasn't going to wake him
for a bitter, hollow mockery of celebration. What good was New Year's
anymore? It wasn't a new beginning for either of them. It was just another
year in this shithole.

 But upon waking, Ryan had wished him a happy New Years anyway and found
that he wanted to share it with someone else. He wanted to do at least a
little drinking, with someone who could bring a bit of light to it.

 "Loco." Miguel chuckled. "I can't get drunk, I'm fucking working."

 Ryan scoffed, disappointment creeping in. "You're not a fucking surgeon,
you change bedpans."

 And that had been the wrong thing to say, even jokingly.

 Miguel was slightly pissed, pulling back. "At least I'm actually fucking
helping instead of giving people cold nuggets and food poisoning." 

 Shit. Whoops. Ryan had gotten so used to joking with Miguel that forgot
how touchy he was when it came to the things that mattered to him. But
Ryan really hadn't meant it to sting. 

 "My bad. I was just kidding, it's cool. I just don't get why you like
working here." Ryan had to soothe that defensive anger, recapture that
little grin. "But then again, helping people isn't really my thing. But I
know you do it because it matters to you. You're fucking good at it too.
You actually care." Ryan said, sincere for once. He didn't really
understand what Miguel got out of it, but Miguel did bring something to
it. He actually tried.

 "I know, you're only into helping yourself, tiburón." Miguel said. And
there was something hidden in his voice, almost haunted and weary. 

 Ryan had noticed that something seemed to be up with Miguel since he'd
entered. Miguel seemed almost conflicted about something, but like he was
trying to bury it for the moment. Ryan wanted to ask, but figured maybe he
should get some alcohol in Miguel first.

 But then Miguel smiled slightly, shaking his head, obviously trying to
hold on to a bit of cheer. "Man, you do know how to kiss ass."

 Ryan just smiled back, more happy that Miguel wasn't upset any longer
than he was offended by Miguel's remark. "It's true. Besides, I finally
have a second alone with you, I don't want you grumpy."

 Miguel chuckled. "Yeah, because you want to get your horny ass laid.
Shit, man, I didn't get this much action on the outside. You put out more
than Maritza did."

 Ryan had a feeling that was payback for the bedpan comment, so he let it
slide.

 "Just one quick drink. To celebrate." Ryan coaxed, holding up one finger.

 Miguel gave in. "What are we celebrating, baby?"

 "A New Year, a new partnership..." Ryan poured two shots and winked at
Miguel. "...great fucking sex." 

 Miguel laughed and took a glass and went to down it, but Ryan stopped him
with a soft touch on his arm. "Wait. Not like that. Come here."

 Ryan pulled him closer, hooking his right arm around Miguel's in front of
them, so they could drink from their own glasses, but with their arms
threaded together.

 "Got to do it proper, huh?" Miguel commented, amused. His warm arm was
braced against Ryan's as they raised their glasses to their mouths. 

 "Sláinte."

 "Sláinte." Miguel pronounced the obviously unfamiliar word well, right
before they downed the shots together.

 As that fire burned down his throat, Ryan moved smooth and quick to pull
Miguel into a sloppy kiss, licking the trace off of his lips, chasing the
taste in the heat of Miguel's mouth.

 "Mmm..." Miguel murmured happily as Ryan ended the kiss. "I like the way
you drink, Ryan."

 Ryan just smiled, and shuffled back to lean against the wall, pulling
Miguel with him. He made sure the Vodka was still within reach on the
shelf, and they put their glasses down next to it so their hands would be
very, very free to wander. 

 They kissed slowly, without any real intent, just enjoying each other and
the stolen time. Miguel pulled back, running a hand lightly over Ryan's
chest, his eye seeming to catch Ryan's ever present cross. Miguel tugged
on it slightly, turning it in those graceful fingers.

 "You always wear this, don't you?"

 Ryan just nodded.

 "I thought you didn't believe in this shit anymore?"

 "That's not really about God, it's more about Cyril." This got Ryan a
raised eyebrow. 

 Ryan reached over to awkwardly pour another shot, as he tried not to
stray too far from Miguel, precious liquid spilling slightly, making the
glass sticky. He poured Miguel another shot as well, but the Latino didn't
drink it, didn't even bother picking it up. He just stayed listening to
Ryan. 

 "I was raised in all that Catholic shit. When me and Cyril were growing
up, everyone was always fucking telling us that we were bad, and if we
didn't repent we would go to hell. Especially me."

 "What a surprise, tiburón." Miguel smirked. "Don't you have a fucking
tattoo of a cross on your back, too? For someone with no faith, you have a
funny fucking way of showing it."

 Ryan shrugged. "It's hard to shake that shit, no matter how abandoned you
feel." He suddenly needed another shot, so he did Miguel's. Ryan cleared
his throat of the pleasant burn, trying to shake off the old pain and
finish his story. "Besides, that's more about Irish pride."

 Miguel's fingers ghosted back over the cross. "Cyril got it for you?"
Miguel guessed.

 "It was kind of an inside joke with us. Always razzing each other about
needing to save our souls." Ryan grinned now, wide and devilish. "Back in
the early days, when we were just joining a gang, we had to knock over
this pawn shop. The guy would never take stolen shit, he had *integrity*.
But an honest pawn shop? Not in our fucking neighborhood." 

 Miguel snorted, amused, and listened to Ryan spin the tale.

 "We sold most of the shit, to smarter pawn shops and some fences. But
Cyril had taken this." Ryan fingered the little gold cross with a small
nostalgic smile. "It wasn't worth much, so he kept it, and gave it to me.
He told me - 'God helps those who helps themselves.' If I didn't have
faith, he'd steal it for me."

 Miguel chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Man, that is so fucked up."

 Then Miguel sobered slightly. "I don't get you, man. I hear the way you
talk about Cyril, I watch you with him. If you love him so much..." Miguel
trailed off, obviously struggling with something.

 "What?" Ryan's thoughts were already clouding with the buzz of the
alcohol, blood rushing at the slightest provocation. He didn't know if he
would like where this was heading, something about that look on Miguel's
face. Whatever was bothering him was coming to the surface...and it didn't
look good for Ryan.

 "How the fuck could you betray him and bring him here? Make him do that
shit? You're supposed to protect him, not use him. Are you that fucking
selfish?" Miguel wasn't yelling, keeping his voice low and questioning,
like he was really trying to figure Ryan out. That tone carried a weight
that meant more than volume. Each quiet, yet intense, accusation thudding
in Ryan's head, hitting him like a blow. 

 "Do you ever think of him or is it always about you?" Miguel's voice was
angry and accusatory underneath the confusion, words coming fast. "I know
you always think of yourself first...but shit. He gave up his life for
you. Even after you landed him here, you left him unprotected and you let
him get fucking raped."

 Motherfucker. Ryan was vulnerable, giving Miguel another piece of himself
-- and Miguel spit in his face. Sudden anger surged through Ryan at the
damning words, as quick and unexpected as lightening, sped by the buzz of
the liquor turned ugly. Before he could think, Ryan's fist was swinging
for Miguel's face. Shut up shut up shut up. Had to shut that fucking
mouth. 

 Contact. Flesh hit flesh with a hot shock. Hard and powerful as the wild
swing caught Miguel off guard. Fist to jaw, glancing off of that mouth.

 Miguel took it, head turning to the side and back slightly with the
force. And before it even finished registering, Ryan's back was slamming
into the wall, hard, as Miguel flew forward to restrain him. Hands clamped
on Ryan's upper arms like irons, sweat slick but firm and unyielding.

 "You motherfucking cocksucker!" Ryan yelled.

 Ryan bucked, still riding that rush of hot anger, fighting the strong,
solid body that was just barely holding him back.

 "Shit! Back off O'Reily!" 

 Miguel threw himself into it, using all the strength in those arms as
Ryan instinctively kept trying to throw him off and break free of Miguel's
grasp. He wasn't quite able to. Miguel kept slamming him back, struggling
until he finally had Ryan pinned.

 Ryan's struggles grew weaker as the flash of adrenaline ran it's course.
It had been only seconds, but he felt so tired. Ryan stared at Miguel's
face...no mark yet, no blood.

 "Calm the fuck down!"

 Ryan had fucking snapped.

 Because those words hurt.

 Miguel had uttered out loud the thoughts that ran through Ryan's head at
night after Ryan had soothed away another nightmare.

 It was the truth.

 And it stung with a sharp fiery pain, like a bullet straight through the
heart.

 Ryan sagged back against the wall, energy leaving him in the wake. His
eyes were closed now as his head rested back against the cool stone.

 Aunt Brenda's fucking voice was in his head. 'You have the devil inside.'


 Old bitch. 

 Maybe she was right.

 His own selfishness and loss of control damned the only one who was
always there for him. 

 Ryan waited for Miguel to...punch him, or leave him to slide to the floor
alone...or whatever. It didn't matter.

 But that crushing, restraining grip relaxed, wary and not quite backing
off yet.

 "I shouldn't have said shit. It's not my fucking business, I crossed the
line...I'm sorry." Miguel said, calm and low, devoid of emotion.

 That voice was dead and empty, the apology hollow. It sounded like
pulling away.

 No. Irrational need to hold on taking over, spilling the pain and truth
from Ryan's lips. He needed to tell *someone*, more than he'd told fucking
McManus, that had been different. That had been for Gloria's ears. He
needed to say it out loud. Share the weight by giving it voice.

 "You're right." It was a rasp.

 Miguel stayed, Ryan could feel the warm weight against him. Ryan opened
his eyes to see Miguel waiting, unsure.

 "I wanted to shut you the fuck up...because you were right." Ryan
continued. "I always put myself first...he always looked out for me,
followed me...and he paid for it."

 That restraining grip of Miguel's hands turned into a soft caress, a
comforting stroke down Ryan's arms as Ryan poured his words into the
starkly quiet room. The loose press of Miguel's body almost holding Ryan
now.

 "I wasn't thinking. I lost control. I didn't think of the consequences.
I..." Ryan's voice cracked a little. "I didn't think he'd really get
caught, you know? I came here not long after his accident and I...wasn't
used to how he was. I missed him. The way he used to be. I wanted to
believe there was still something of him left, that he'd manage to get
away with it. I forced him to do it." Ryan couldn't stop the thoughts that
were always in the back of his mind from falling from his lips now.
"After...after he came here, I still wanted to believe there was enough
left of him that he could take care of himself. Even though I *knew* there
wasn't. I was afraid to face him knowing it was all my fault again. I'd
fucked him over. Took him for granted. And he paid." 

 It had been easier to stay lost in Gloria than to deal with the damage he
had caused.

 Too much. Too much. He'd said too much. But he couldn't stop it.

 "Shh...It's okay, Ryan." Miguel muttered meaningless things, mostly in
Spanish, kissing him gently to stop the words, stop the hurt. Soft press
of lips on Ryan's, taste of salt.

 Miguel pulled back, but Ryan's hand rested on the back of his neck,
keeping him close as Miguel kept up that soft caress.

 "I'm sorry." Miguel apologized, and it wasn't hollow this time. "I didn't
mean to...I shouldn't have said it like that."

 Ryan shrugged slightly, trying to pull himself back together. "The truth
fucking hurts and all that shit."

 Ryan felt so open and raw...and somehow better. Getting those words out,
braced here with that comforting heat. Fuck. What was he doing?

 Ryan started to pull his walls back up in panic, wondering what the hell
he was spilling his guts to Miguel for...wondering what it meant that it
felt right. Just then though, before he could retreat behind the mask,
Miguel pinned him with that deep gaze, keeping Ryan there.

 "You know my baby that died?" Miguel's own pain and guilt was evident in
his voice. "The doctor said it was my fucking fault. All the drugs and
shit we did before, fucked him up. Maritza wanted to stop...but I didn't
think anything could hurt us. I didn't think anything could touch me...and
my boy died because of it."

 Miguel had opened up his own wound for Ryan to see. It wasn't quite the
same, and Miguel hadn't fucked up in the same spectacularly selfish,
premeditated way that Ryan had. But Ryan felt less naked, now that Miguel
had stripped down too. Shared his own pain.

 Miguel was leaning forward against him now, and Ryan couldn't tell who
was supporting who. Ryan stayed resting there with him in the quiet. 

 "I'm starting to trust you...and it's fucking scary." Miguel whispered
against Ryan, so low Ryan almost didn't hear it.

 That was it then, the conflict and struggle Ryan had seen turning in
Miguel. Ryan didn't know what to say, couldn't think of anything that
Miguel would believe. 

 "I'm a scary guy." Ryan answered with his own ghostly quiet words,
slightly bitter tinge to them. "So are you."

 Ryan tried to let him know just with his voice and his touch, hands
stroking slowly over Miguel's back, that in this case, the trust wasn't
misplaced and Miguel wasn't alone. Ryan wanted Miguel to trust
him...because he trusted Miguel now. And Ryan now had no intention of
turning on him. Ever. Ryan didn't know how to make Miguel see that though.
But Miguel seemed okay anyway. Apparently Ryan's little breakdown had
shown him something he needed to see. 

 Miguel pulled away finally with a little shake. "Man, from now on? I
don't think we should fucking drink."

 Ryan chuckled softly, relieved. "Yeah, it doesn't bring out our best
qualities does it?"

 "It's just not the holidays without some drinking and violence."

 "Well, now that we've had our 'fun'. It's time to go back." Ryan stashed
the glasses and bottle back under the tray lid, shaking his head. Fuck,
they were lucky the yelling hadn't attracted anybody, but Ryan knew it
wouldn't. Not here. He'd taken pains to arrange their solitude. Hacks
would rather not be bothered, especially if you distracted them with cash.

 "This isn't exactly what I had planned." Ryan said, apologetic as he
turned back to just look at Miguel, wanting to see that he was okay.

 "Nice punch, baby." Miguel said appreciatively as he rubbed his jaw.

 Ryan reached out, gingerly grazing Miguel's mouth and jaw with his
fingertips. "Sorry."

 "Think it'll bruise?" Miguel asked, smiling and bouncing slightly on his
feet. He was in extremely good humor for someone who had just taken a
punch to the face.

 Crazy fucker, Ryan thought fondly. "Are you a masochist or something? Cuz
I can hit you again if you like it so damn much." Ryan joked in a sweet
tone, glad for the lighter mood, no matter how odd it was.

 "Nope." Miguel said quickly, still grinning. "If it's visible, I'm going
to tell El Norte that the wops did it."

 Ryan grinned back now, getting it. "Perfect...might make you look bad
though."

 Miguel shrugged. "Nah, I'll spin it my way. They'll be so pissed off that
it'll be easy. And if it bruises, it'll be obvious that *somebody* hit me.
Might as well turn it to our advantage."

 "Jesus...you're starting to sound like me." Ryan said, pleased. "Do you
want me to hit you again for good measure?" 

 He was joking again, of course. Sadism wasn't really his thing. The
regret at hurting Miguel in his moment of defensive pain tugged at Ryan.

 "No more fucking punching me." Miguel said, mock sternly. "I like this
better."

 Miguel leaned in to kiss him again. Firm but sweet, their tongues just
barely teasing before he pulled away.

 "Did that hurt?" Ryan asked with slight worry.

 Miguel shook his head in the negative and teased. "Sorry, tiburón. It
wasn't *that* good of a punch." 

 "Speaking of bruises..." Ryan rubbed his sore upper arms.

 "Shit..." Miguel moved forward again. "Sorry...but I couldn't just let
you keep hitting me."

 "No shit." Ryan smiled wryly as Miguel's gentle touch danced back over
his arms in sympathy. "It's not your fault."

 "You're so fucking pale..."

 "Yeah, but I don't bruise easy. If I do...well, it is cold. I guess I'll
catch a chill and wear my jacket a lot."

 "Man, that thing is fucking ugly."

 "Hey! Fuck off, I like it." Ryan said without any vehemence, back to just
joking. The intense atmosphere had just...evaporated, passing back into
their easy togetherness. Somehow more comfortable and real now that they
had moved past it. "Besides, I'm not taking fashion advice from the guy
who rips the sleeves off of all his shirts for no fucking reason."

 Miguel just chuckled and kissed him again. 

 His surprise hadn't exactly gone well, but Ryan felt somehow lighter now.
He didn't regret doing this at all. As Ryan turned to leave, he stopped.
He'd almost forgotten to check in on El Cid, it kept slipping away from
him, distracted by Miguel. "Wait, what's the buzz in El Norte lately?"

 A little shadow passed over Miguel's face, stress showing back up around
his eyes. Not good. "Things are going exactly like we want...fast. El
Cid's close to the fucking edge, shouldn't be long now."

 "You okay?"

 Miguel just shook his head. "He's hard to deal with, but I got it."

 Ryan wanted to trust him, he didn't want to piss Miguel off again by
underestimating his abilities. But he didn't want Miguel getting hurt
either. "You need to tell me if we need to change things...I have back up
plans if he starts to turn on you." 

 Miguel put on his stone face, confident, brooking no argument. "No. Not
yet. I'm still safe. Don't worry, Ryan." 

 Then he slipped away with a last kiss. Ryan waited a moment for safety,
his brain already moving and charting alternate courses just in case.

 ~ Chapter 8: Devil's Apprentice ~

 Miguel sat at El Norte's table in the quad, observing. El Cid was on his
way over as he received a whispered report from Guerra.

 "Those wops can't pull this shit. Get back to moving what we got." Harsh
low bark from El Cid that had Guerra moving again.

 "What's up, El Cid?" Miguel asked, concerned, as El Cid sat down with a
slam of a chair next to him.

 "Word is Pancamo got a shipment in and split it with Adebisi, holding
back from us." El Cid leaned in close, eyes wild as they always were
lately. "You need to work Poet and anyone else you can to find out. If
it's true...we got to make a move Miguel."

 Miguel nodded obediently, then he was up and moving. El Cid was close.
Things were moving at blinding speed all of a sudden. Miguel had been
pushing every button El Cid had, and it was paying off. The bruise that
had blossomed on Miguel's face, and the vague, but damning story he had
woven about it was just another little shove, making El Cid's blood boil.
Not because he gave a shit about Miguel, but because the Italians had
dared to touch someone in El Norte. The wops were keeping enough of a
distance, and things were tense enough between the two groups that no one
would be able to pull apart Miguel's story. There was too much mistrust.
El Cid was sure that the Italians had roughed up Miguel, while Pancamo was
just as sure that it was a lie El Cid was spreading. 

 The bruise had faded now, but the conflict between the Italians and El
Norte was blazing brighter than ever. Eyefucking and little squabbles were
happening more frequently between the two groups. Adebisi was dancing on
the sidelines in wait. 

 El Cid wasn't thinking clearly, not that he ever did. Stupid impatient
motherfucker. El Cid wanted a dangerous war, wanted to show everyone that
they weren't pussies, acting out of anger and pride instead of finding a
better course...which was exactly what Miguel and Ryan had been working
towards. Using the man's own temper and ruthlessness against him. He was
so fucking close to making an overt and stupid move against the
Italians...and it would be his death.

 But there was a catch, Miguel went to the library first, planting a quick
note for Ryan. El Cid needed someone to make the move. He hadn't planned
it yet, but Miguel knew it was coming, he could *feel* it. El Cid's
nightly rantings about making a point made it clear, and this proof of the
Italian's betrayal would push El Cid to bring his angry words to reality.
He wanted to strike a direct blow against the Italians...and he would turn
to Miguel to do it. Miguel *knew* it, down to his bones. 

 As Miguel went to scope out Poet, his brain worked. He knew there were
ways out, to keep himself safe, he could see at least one. Ryan probably
had more options, he had hinted at it in their last meet, and Miguel knew
that things were playing out just like Ryan wanted. Ryan had told Miguel
to get word to him as soon as Miguel knew it was time. As soon as El Cid
was at the perfect point. They needed to move at just the right moment if
they wanted their plans to work. The rush built in Miguel's blood. It was
time. Shit. He hoped he was right about Ryan's moves.

 **

 Ryan slid into their storage closet. Miguel hadn't been kept waiting
long. Ryan looked like he was in full planning mode. Energy crackling
under that seemingly relaxed surface. But there was an odd joy in his
expression at seeing Miguel. Miguel was standing tensely, moving a bit,
but not quite pacing, and Ryan reacted to it. Ryan came close, with his
own straight stance, instead of falling into his usual casual lean against
the wall. It worked to ground Miguel a little, and Miguel focused on him,
stopping his anxious movement.

 "It's time. El Cid is going to fucking blow soon." Miguel got right into
it, before either of them could be...distracted. "I'll do it."

 Ryan blinked. But he was serious at the tone in Miguel's voice. "Do
what?"

 "Slip him a hot shot, a real one." It was the first solution Miguel could
think of. Simple, effective, and it would be hard for anyone to find out
that Miguel had done it. He and El Cid were the only ones that knew El Cid
kept his supply in Miguel's mattress, and Pancamo could've tainted the
supply or El Cid's food. 

 Ryan raised an eyebrow at this change of heart, focusing on that instead
of Miguel's plan for the moment. "What's he done to you to change your
mind?" There was that odd edge to Ryan's voice, Miguel would swear it was
more of that worry, mixed with something a lot like anger at El Cid. If he
didn't know better.

 "Nothing, same old motherfucker." 

 "Then why?" Ryan didn't believe him. His concern for Miguel almost
surprised Miguel again. But it was less and less of a shock lately.
Because it kept fucking showing up.

 "He's about to snap. He's going to go after Pancamo's boys full force.
He's going to want to draw blood."

 "That was the point. El Cid makes a move, Pancamo eliminates him." 

 Miguel shook his head. "Who do you think he's going to ask to be his
weapon? I know El Cid, I can tell by the way he's talking. When he finally
makes a move against Pancamo, he's going to make *me* do it. He doesn't
care what happens to me."

 "Shit." Ryan exhaled, but he didn't seem overly surprised. "Look, we both
knew this was a possibility. We have outs. We just need to choose a course
now."

 Miguel nodded. Miguel shifted back, bracing his back against the wall a
little in the face of Ryan's cool, calm capability. "Exactly. I can just
take care of it..." 

 Miguel hadn't wanted to before. Didn't want to have that final betrayal,
thinking he already had enough blood on his hands. That was before he
spent more time with El Shithead. He still talked to Miguel like he
was...nothing, and it was more clear than ever that that grudge of his
would never go away. El Cid would get rid of Miguel one way or another.
Use Miguel up and consign him to solitary again, or just get his ass
killed. El Cid would keep making Miguel prove himself...until Miguel was
gone. Miguel may not have wanted to off the guy himself, but there was no
way in hell Miguel was getting pulled down by that bastard again either.
He wasn't going to make a foolish move against the wops for El Cid. 

 "That's a last resort." Ryan paused cautiously, almost bracing himself as
he floated another idea. "I had some tentative plans in place."

 Miguel had known that. He'd known Ryan had it planned farther than he'd
shown Miguel yet. And there had to be a reason. Either Miguel really was a
pawn, which seemed less and less likely lately, or Ryan thought Miguel
would have issues with whatever his plan was, and had wanted to wait until
it was necessary. 

 "You can't go after the wops." Ryan closed the small distance between
them again. Always close enough for Miguel to feel his heat, even when
they were just talking business. It calmed Miguel down for some reason.

 Miguel rolled his eyes. "No shit."

 Ryan just grinned a little at that before he turned serious again. "We'll
need you out of the way. Out of the picture." Ryan began.

 Miguel snorted. "What? You going to kill me to save me? How do I get out
of the way? How the fuck do we get me out of doing it without me looking
disloyal?"

 "Make you look even more loyal...get you busted." Ryan stated carefully.
Waiting. Ryan thought Miguel would need convincing to go along with this
plan. And he was probably right. 

 So Ryan *had* been holding this plan back for the second reason. He
seemed worried about Miguel's reaction. It was like holding it back until
the last minute was Ryan's own fucked up way of protecting Miguel, keeping
Miguel calm. The Irishman was so fucked up when it came to some
things...but he was Miguel's to deal with now. 

 "What?" Miguel asked with a bit of disbelief. But already...he saw it. He
was starting to be able to read Ryan's plans, follow that mind.

 "Hear me out. Get caught carrying contraband. I'll send the guards after
you. You'll end up in the hole. Safely away from the coming chaos."

 "The hole?" Fear stole through Miguel's veins, icy and frenetic. 

 "If you know El Cid is going to turn to you, it's the best way to keep
you out of the fray without bringing you into question. If he asks you to
off one of the wops...tell him you'll do it. Be convincing, and loyal.
Then we'll pop you in the hole before you can do it. I'll make sure it
looks like Pancamo was behind your bust. You won't be available to El Cid,
he'll be even more pissed off. It'll be perfect. El Cid will fucking snap,
and make his last stupid move without you to do it for him." Ryan laid it
out carefully, those eyes locked on Miguel's, still so close. Supporting
Miguel without touching him.

 "Perfect." Miguel repeated, a slight question in his voice. Yeah...he was
going to need convincing. He definitely saw it though. And Miguel fucking
trusted Ryan. Despite his fear, knowing how dangerous trusting the
Irishman was. After Ryan's little New Year's breakdown...

 You couldn't fake that shit. Ryan kept proving himself. Giving more of
himself than needed. It had calmed some of Miguel's apprehension. Whatever
was going on between them, whatever bond Miguel felt developing, he had
seen it reflected back at him in those green eyes, felt it in that wild
punch. Heard it in that truth that Ryan gave him. Miguel was in deep. And
Ryan was right there with him. So Miguel was going to go with it. Even if
he was wrong. In his gut, he didn't feel he was. And it was all or nothing
time.

 "Okay. So, lay it out for me, tiburón." Miguel signaled his willingness
to go it Ryan's way. Miguel shoved that fear of the hole, and trusting a
shark, to the side to focus on the details. Ryan would have it all
planned. Ryan would make it work.

 Miguel fucking trusted him to. 

 Shit.

 Ryan nodded, obliging. Wanting Miguel to see. To participate. "There's
two ways we can go, one is slightly safer, but less effective for fully
restoring your rep, and healing old wounds with El Norte. Option one - get
caught with a weapon. It'll be easily explained by the tension. You can
tell McManus you were carrying it for protection, and you won't get much
time in the hole. But your boys will think you were on your way to off one
of Chuckie's boys. But that won't get rid of old bitterness quite as well
as option two - get popped for carrying tits. You'll be sent away just
like everyone else was. It'll take away that sting from you getting away
the first time. And they'll think it was Pancamo again. It'll be the final
straw that breaks El Cid."

 The less safe option.

 "But I could end up in the hole the whole month...or get sent back to
solitary until I talk, if they can prove I'm dealing for El Norte." Miguel
voiced the danger.

 "I know. It's a risk either way. But if you stick around and martyr
yourself for El Cid's war -- that's worse. El Cid will have you go after
Pancamo, or he'll come after *you* for disobeying." Ryan pointed out,
tensely serious. 

 "I know. Fuck it. I'll go down for tits."

 "We could go with a shank, if you're really worried..." Ryan assured him.
"It's just that drugs would look better to El Norte. They'll forgive you
for escaping punishment last time when they all went down." 

 Ryan was still worried about Miguel. But there was no other real choice.
Miguel had known it would come down to this, or something like it. El Cid
wanted him gone. This was why Miguel had joined up with his shark. Miguel
was dangling between death or solitary before anyway, it was the same old
risk. This way he at least had a chance for prosperity. A way out. The
risk was much smaller with Ryan's moves on his side.

 Ryan continued, trying to put Miguel, and possibly himself, at ease.
"We'll make sure it's a small amount, so that they can't nail you for
dealing. Plead it as personal use. Play the lost addict. You've already
got Sister Pete, and Father Ray on your side. Use them. Use those sad,
tortured eyes of yours to get McManus on your side. He loves a hard luck
case he thinks he can easily help. Agree to drug counseling, spin a story
of pain and regret. Desperation. Say you want to clean up and fly right.
El Norte will think you took the whole fall yourself for them, and loyally
kept quiet." 

 Ryan was so very fucking convincing. And diabolical.

 "One last problem though...how bad is Glynn's grudge?" Ryan asked,
chewing on his lower lip as that mind worked and plotted every little
fucking angle. Ryan already muttering possible solutions before Miguel got
his answer out. "You can play McManus against him..."

 But Miguel stopped him. He wasn't really worried about Glynn anymore,
that fucker had bigger fish to fry at the moment. "He might still hate me,
but I gave up his daughter's rapist already. Sister Pete was there arguing
on my behalf, I showed remorse." And it had stuck in Miguel's gut. But he
had to do it, even if Miguel had wanted to punch that superior acting
cocksucker the whole time. Miguel had gritted his teeth and given a
performance to rival tiburón's deceptions. The whole time thinking of what
they were doing right behind that clueless pendejo's back, and smirking
inwardly at it. "I think he's focused on that and the gang tensions. Plus,
he knows he was a motherfucker to me, and he feels shitty for owing me for
finally fingering the rapist. He won't admit that though, so he'd probably
just rather forget I fucking exist."

 "Good. He won't be a problem then. Sister Pete will go to bat for you if
he is."

 "So, how exactly does this go down?"

 "When El Cid comes to you to go after one of the wops, tell him yes, and
then signal me fucking immediately. I'll send Murphy after you."

 "He still in your pocket?"

 "Not completely...but he's definitely on my side. We're Black Irish,
gato. He's sticking by so far. I offer a tip, he's gonna act on it and
keep it secret that it was me."

 "Like when you busted El Norte the first fucking time." Miguel pointed
out wryly. "Black Irish. That's a mixed up fucking myth, man." Miguel
focused on that for a minute. Chatter to keep his mind occupied. Just
being with Ryan for a second.

 "You know about it?" Ryan asked, happily surprised.

 "We got the internet, don't we?" Unlike most of the guys in here, Miguel
didn't just use it for porn. It passed the time. And when he'd hooked up
with his shark...his searches had taken an Irish turn.

 Ryan grinned. "Murphy had to tell me about it."

 "It's a myth." Miguel scoffed lightly, but he was grinning a little too.

 Ryan shrugged. "It's a good story. Feels true. Back centuries ago, after
the Armada was defeated, your ancestors wash up on the shores of
Ireland..."

 "I'm Cuban." Miguel commented, just to annoy Ryan. For just that moment,
the business was off to the side again. They were just...themselves.
Miguel got to see Ryan. Enjoy him a little. A reminder that against all
odds, there was more here than plans, and schemes, and practical
alliances. 

 Ryan ignored him with a friendly little shove. "They survived despite the
odds. In a strange land, not even knowing the language. It's in our blood,
Miguel. Both of us. That's why I was drawn to you. You're smart, you
survive despite all this shit. So do I. We'll survive together, Miguel."
Ryan was open, real, and without that mask again. He didn't hide behind
anything with Miguel anymore, not when they were alone.

 "As long as your ass doesn't turn on me." Miguel said it slightly
lightly, but with that edge underneath. That fear beneath
this...friendship. That's what it felt like. Friendship. More than that
even. So rare in here. Ryan's words warmed Miguel despite his fear. They
felt true.

 Ryan was suddenly serious again, adamant. His hand grasping Miguel's arm
with his words. "We're in this together. I know my word doesn't mean
shit...but I give it to you. I swear on my mother's grave, on my brother,
because we all know how I feel about God. I'm not going to fuck you over,
Miguel." Intense eyes and voice trying to show Miguel. Wanting him to see.


 Miguel nodded, slightly stunned at the oath. He believed Ryan. Miguel
never thought he would trust Ryan...but he did. Fuck. "Yo también."

 Ryan tilted his head in question.

 "You can trust me too, Ryan." Miguel clarified.

 "I know. You're loyal, Miguel." Ryan said with that same seriousness, but
a hint of a small soft smile. 

 Miguel snorted. "I'm loyal? Yeah, baby. I'm here planning the death of a
guy who thinks that I follow him." Miguel pointed out with a little bit of
bitterness beneath the joke.

 Ryan shook his head, negating Miguel's denial. "He fucked you over, gato.
Loyalty to someone who wants you gone is just fucking stupid. I wouldn't
trust or respect you if you were that fucking blind." Ryan was trying to
reassure him.

 And it actually worked a little. Ryan's callous, sociopathic logic was
rubbing off on Miguel maybe, because that made sense. And the Irishman's
trust and respect made Miguel feel...good. So much had changed, and Miguel
went with it. Liked it.

 But those words brought something else to mind. More business, more
worries for the future for Miguel. "Speaking of trust and respect, besides
El Shithead of course, El Norte has accepted me back. Except for Guerra.
He ain't saying shit...but he feels the same as El Cid. He has a fucking
grudge against me for no reason." Miguel said, back to that scheme to keep
Miguel safe and alive. "And we aren't fucking killing him. I got no real
beef with him." Miguel added quickly, firm. 

 He had to draw a line. El Cid was different. El Cid wasn't truly loyal to
anyone, and was out to get Miguel despite all Miguel did for him. Guerra
was along for the ride for no reason that Miguel could see, but Miguel
still felt a tie to him. It wouldn't be right to go after him unless he
made an overt move against Miguel, but he could still cause problems that
may unravel everything after El Cid's death.

 "Don't worry." Ryan looked a little disbelieving at the 'no beef'
comment, but Ryan let that go and just gestured his understanding. "Guerra
is with El Cid because he's a fucking lap dog. He's a bloodthirsty,
insecure, hothead who needs to prove he's got balls and El Cid lets him
off his leash more than you did. Watch, when El Cid is gone Chico will
come crawling back. You won't have to worry, seeing what happens to El Cid
will shake him. I think it'll take care of itself."

 Miguel nodded again. Miguel was resigned, going back to the plan. Losing
himself in it with Ryan. "I can do you one better with your plan for
getting me out of the way, instead of having me nabbed holding my own
tits...have the pod tossed."

 "Why?"

 "El Cid makes me keep his stash in my mattress. Nothing better than
taking a fall for the boss."

 "That cocksucker." Ryan looked pissed at El Cid, that death back in his
gaze, but Ryan nodded brusquely. "That's best then, we just have to make
sure he doesn't get nabbed."

 "It's clear most of the time, like now. He's the leader, and he just got
out not long ago, so we don't keep any other contraband in the pod in case
of a shakedown."

 "That *will* work better, gato. I knew I liked your mind." Ryan grinned a
little, impressed through that seriousness and worry. But then his
expression turned grave again. "Are you sure you want to do this? We can
go with your way, spike his tits fatally this time." Ryan offered, still
holding that concerned tension but planning to do what had to be done.

 Miguel shook his head, stroking a soothing hand over Ryan's arm without
thought. "Nah. I'll go with door number two, an all expense paid vacation
to the hole." Miguel tried to joke.

 Ryan leaned into the touch. Pushing the pure business aside again for a
moment to focus on Miguel. "We don't have to do it. We could think of
something else besides landing you in the hole. Some other way to keep you
out of play. Or we could go with your spiking plan, give him one last
high. We could pin that on Pancamo, and come up with another way to show
your loyalty." Ryan offered softly, giving Miguel the choice again. But
they both knew what the best way was. "Can you really handle that
claustrophobic hellhole? Don't lie to me." That soft concern the only
thing there now.

 Ryan showing that he fucking cared. Vulnerability. Making Miguel want to
trust him. Making Miguel feel...safe...with Ryan at his back. Ryan didn't
have to tell him any of this shit. Ryan knew this plan would freak Miguel,
and it was possible that Miguel would veto the idea. Ryan knew when Miguel
was carrying, or he could've easily found out. Ryan could've just had
Miguel snatched up without warning, to bypass any protestations or
reluctance on Miguel's part. Telling Miguel invited complications, the
chance of refusal. But Ryan did it anyway. He wanted input. He gave Miguel
a choice. 

 It was little shit like this, and the look in those eyes, that made
Miguel trust Ryan against all his old logic. Convinced Miguel that Ryan
wanted an actual partnership. Real. With a dangerous amount of trust
required from both sides. Miguel knew enough about the moves Ryan was
making to be a threat. But that didn't stop Ryan from including him. And
not only in his plans...but his life. Showing his regret for what he'd
done on to Cyril. Telling Miguel so much personal shit. Just showing
Miguel the real person underneath. The person Miguel...liked.

 "Yes." Miguel said firmly. He knew he could handle the hole. Fuck his
fear. Fuck that little room with the walls closing in. He just had to keep
the way out in mind. Miguel just had to do this...and he would be safe.

 "It'll work. Perfectly." Miguel added again with a wan smile. "I just
have to go to the hole again." Miguel repeated with a sigh. He had to do
this. He could. 

 "Hey, even I've done it. You're tough, mi gato. After solitary, you can
do some time in the hole standing on your head. It'll be over before you
know it." Ryan knew this was going to be hard for Miguel, it was clear in
his voice. He was trying to be soothing, confident in Miguel. Trying to
calm Miguel down.

 Miguel started to retreat into his head. Could he really do it? It wasn't
forever. He'd get out and El Cid would be gone. It wasn't like solitary --
he would be getting out. But Miguel could only think of the cold
emptiness, and those walls closing in on him.

 A warm touch on his face pulled him out of it, grabbing his attention.

 "Hey." Ryan called Miguel's attention softly.

 His face right in front of Miguel's, that breath on Miguel's face.

 "It won't be long...and then it will all be over." Ryan continued in that
soothing whisper. "El Cid will be dead by the time you get out, I'll make
sure of it. You'll swoop back in afterwards, help take charge amidst the
chaos. Lead El Norte, team up with me in the tit trade. We can do this."

 Then Ryan was kissing him. Tongue teasing sweetly between Miguel's lips.
Slipping in his mouth. Ryan's hand was warm and steady on the back of
Miguel's neck, rubbing, comforting.

 Soft hum from Ryan against Miguel's lips. "Gato..." Those kisses slipping
down his neck. "You'll survive, we always survive."

 Miguel fell into that touch. He could do this. He'd been in the hole
before, he'd been through worse. He would be safe. Fuck. Miguel pushed
that nervous fear away.

 "I'll give you one hell of a going away party." Ryan said with a sultry
smile before...sliding to his knees. It seemed that Ryan had the most
beautiful way of comforting him.

 Ryan lifted up Miguel's shirt to place more wet little kisses along
Miguel's ribs, fluttering down his trembling stomach.

 "Whatever you need." Ryan whispered.

 Ryan lapped at his belly button, goosebumps rising on Miguel at the hot
teasing licks. Miguel looked down into those eyes. Focusing on Ryan.

 "While you're in there, think of El Cid, slowly falling apart, left to
the wolves, his fat ass finally shuffling off this mortal coil. El Cid
paying for what he did to you." Ryan spoke. Giving his own twisted version
of a pep talk.

 Those thoughts didn't comfort Miguel and it sure as hell didn't turn him
on, but what Ryan was doing while he spoke did. Those sure hands that knew
Miguel's body now. Ryan undid Miguel's pants, his words shifting off of
revenge.

 "And at night...you think of me. Here." Ryan continued. 

 Ryan was looking up at Miguel, and Miguel grounded himself in those
intense green eyes. Comforted by Ryan's presence, and turned on by that
touch, and the purr of Ryan's voice. Ryan pulled down Miguel's boxers just
enough to free him, but didn't touch Miguel's hardening dick yet.

 "Focus on this...keep this with you." Ryan continued in that hot, husky
voice that shivered over Miguel. 

 Ryan's blunt nails scratched lightly down Miguel's sides as he expelled a
hot, moist breath over the head of Miguel's cock, causing a sweet,
tingling shudder through Miguel. With that, Ryan sucked him into that
wicked mouth.

 El Diablo.

 His tiburón. Swallowing him whole. 

 Ryan's mouth sending Miguel shaking, pulse speeding, pleasure chasing
away his doubt and worry. Swallowing up and drowning all his fear. Ryan
put everything he had into sending Miguel's mind into orbit. There was
nothing but that wet heat now. All of Ryan concentrated on him, making him
moan and buck. Warm gentle squeeze of Ryan's hand to his balls. Fuck.
Miguel buried his fingers in Ryan's hair, memorizing this. Every stroke of
Ryan's tongue, the sweet, slow slide in and out of Ryan's mouth. Miguel
was safe here, caught in those eyes.

 ~ Chapter 9: Take Cover from the Mortar ~

 Miguel stood in the classroom. There to look tough. Stone face in place
as he kept an eye on it all unfolding before him. Adebisi, El Cid, Pancamo
all in a fucking little utilitarian room together. Each with their own
stone faced glarer. Leaders sat, protection stood. They weren't really
protection though, more like visual aids. This is who I'll be sending
after your ass. This protects me, I rule this, and there are more like
him. This is expendable. It's why El Cid had brought Miguel, he wanted the
bull's eye on Miguel. Nobody admitted any of that. They were just there as
muscle. To show that these were tough bosses.

 It was a meet. 

 The meet that would spark the fuse. 

 Miguel was there to see it as Ryan sat down in the quad somewhere.
Innocent and unconnected.

 It was a good thing Miguel wasn't supposed to talk, because he had no
idea how Ryan did this on a regular basis. Stood in the middle of a web
he'd created...and acted like he had no idea where the hell it came from. 

 Miguel had the insane urge to just...talk. 

 Laugh.

 Point at El Cid and tell him.

 I did this to you motherfucker.

 This is part of the plan.

 This is the coming of your end that I set in motion with my shark weeks
ago...and you don't even know. You can't see it.

 I've got better moves than all of you put together now.

 I win. You lose. You just can't see it yet.

 Fuck...it clawed under Miguel's skin. Wanting to come out.

 How the fuck did tiburón do this? Be the man behind everything, and never
spill it.

 Maybe Ryan did have this little scratch under his skin too, maybe it was
a tiny reason why he shared his plans with Miguel, why he wanted a
partner. Not the main one...but fuck...it had to soothe this. Knowing at
least someone knew. Having someone you could share it with.

 For now, Miguel had to stand here and be still. Quiet. Fade into the
background while the big boy pretenders whipped their dicks out. 

 Thankfully not literally.

 Adebisi was there even though El Cid and Pancamo were each convinced that
they were the main enemies behind each other's pain. Adebisi was
pretending to be neutral, the voice of almost reason.

 He was good at hiding shit too it seemed. Pretending he wanted them at an
accord to keep the tits flowing. Pretending that the tensions were pissing
him off because he didn't want a lockdown.

 Miguel knew, thanks to Ryan, that this was exactly what Adebisi wanted.
Tension. War. His two enemies at each others throats, and Simon would
gladly pay with a little lockdown. 

 Miguel could see it. O'Reily and Adebisi must work so fucking well
together. But Adebisi was another pawn to Ryan in this. Ryan had told
Miguel everything...but kept Adebisi in the dark on some things.

 The crazy Nigerian knew enough to work this meet though. Pitting the two
further against each other, and removing himself off to neutrality without
them realizing it. They were too busy hissing at each other. Growing
louder. El Cid and Pancamo throwing accusations about moves made by each
side against the other. Some were true, most were tensions falsely created
by Ryan and Miguel. Fingers pointed at the wrong parties but taken as
gospel. A rivalry fueled to this boiling point by Miguel, his tiburón, and
the swaying Nigerian. All of Ryan's work and lies falling into place.

 Miguel tensed and took a step forward as El Cid stood, angrily pointing
at Pancamo. Time to get his head in the game and pay more attention to the
words, not just the lines of the web underlying them.

 "You're going to lie to my face and say you aren't going behind my back,
making a move against me?" El Cid growled at Pancamo.

 "That's exactly what I say, little man," Pancamo answered, standing as
well. "We've kept to the deal. You're the one trying to take our piece."

 "Fine then, pendejo. You keep denying what we all know is true."

 "The truth is what I say it is. Back off and keep to your slice. Or
you're going to get a war," Pancamo warned.

 "You're the one that needs to watch your greed. You want a fucking war?
You think you can do this shit against us and hide it? We'll see."

 "I guess we will. We ain't done shit. But we can," Pancamo proclaimed,
going for the door. "We're done here. Watch your step, spic." 

 They left first. That just pissed off El Cid more. As soon as the
Italians hit the stairs, Miguel was following El Cid in his storm out of
the little room. Leaving Adebisi in the classroom shaking his head. Now,
Simon was probably going to laugh his fucking ass off once they were out
of sight. 

 Miguel was torn between wanting to do the same, wanting to throw back his
head and laugh at what he'd done, at El Cid caught in his hands...and
wanting to be locked away in a little closet with Ryan. Seeking a calm
space. Stifling and nothing but breath, low words and touch. Miguel didn't
find the small spaces confining when he was with Ryan. With Ryan there
they were Miguel's own little hole to hide in, lose himself in. A part of
Miguel also wanted to stop this. Go back to being blindly loyal. Simple
and true. Wanted a time before El Cid, when Miguel knew who he was. Miguel
wanted to be in confession. Being absolved for saving himself and
betraying his vows. For feeling good bringing this about.

 But he wasn't any of those other places. Wasn't any of those other
things. He was here. Carrying out a plan. 

 Vasquez joined them right outside the door, all of them walking slowly
after Pancamo had cleared. Miguel walked with Vasquez. The other man even
more silent than usual, both of them just a step behind El Cid. 

 "Come with me, Alvarez," El Cid stated, before pointing to Vasquez. "You,
go watch them and let the others know we are done dealing with those
fucks." El Cid's anger was a living thing, in his voice, popping out of
those bloodshot eyes.

 Miguel followed El Cid grimly into their pod. Miguel knew. This was it.
Time to go. 

 El Cid swore, a long string of raging vengeful words shifting from
Spanish to English and back again. It didn't make much sense either way.
The ravings of a lost, pissed off mind. His face red, spit making his
point as those words flung themselves...but quiet. Not loud. That red face
and popping vein strained from holding it in. An explosion deep in the
earth, so devastating but not really seen so much as felt. No one outside
their pod could see just how over the edge El Cid was because it was so
intensely kept in, just leaking out with that hissing rage, too powerful
to explode on the surface fully, that energy too deep. It was just for
Miguel to see.

 El Cid finally went still. Completely. All that intensity freezing in
hate in his veins. He locked his serious gaze on Miguel, coming so close.
Hand on Miguel's face to carry his point. It almost reminded Miguel of
Ryan, and how he communicated. Touch to get attention, to carry the weight
of the words. Miguel didn't have to stop himself from flinching away in
disgust and hate from Ryan though.

 None of that anger from El Cid was for Miguel. Miguel was his weapon. A
weapon that El Cid was picking up, and sharpening one last time, about to
let fly.

 "This is war, Miguel."

 No shit.

 But Miguel kept his face stone. Matching El Cid's rage more steadily.
Less fucking crazy. Letting a mask do all the work as he listened, already
sure in his course. Just waiting for El Cid to say the words.

 "We're going to show them. All of those cocksuckers. Nobody messes with
wiseguys? They messed with us. And they've got to pay, Miguel," El Cid
hissed.

 Miguel just nodded.

 Wait for it.

 "We make a move now," El Cid said, that insanity decisive. "You. Leave
your mark on one of them, not Chuckie. One of his go to boys. Take him out
of the game. Send him to the hospital ward with a message that speaks
louder than words. Your trademark." El Cid's stubby little finger brushed
near over Miguel's temple, tapping near his eye.

 Shit. Motherfucker. Miguel kept his own anger and disgust off of his face
and kept still. Barely. Thankfully he was already supposed to look
determined and pissed at the wops, little did El Cid know, all of that on
Miguel's face, in his blood, was for *him*. 

 Miguel's trademark. Déme los ojos. That piece of fucking scum. That was
not Miguel. That was El Cid. That was what Miguel had done for El Cid.
What that cocksucker had made him do. It was just the last little reminder
Miguel needed to feel fucking *right* about what he was doing.

 And they had done it. This was proof. El Cid was fucking insane. Just
like Ryan had wanted. Like they had wanted. Spiked tits, and whispered
words turning El Cid so easily into...this. The leader was over the edge
if he was making this move. Bold and brazen. Doing this shit against the
wiseguys was almost unthinkable. Everyone would see. Everyone in El Norte
and out. El Cid was lost and too dangerous to live long. Miguel hoped he
was right in trusting Ryan to keep it from destroying El Norte. This
destruction was just for El Cid.

 Miguel ignored the slight twist in his stomach at having done this. It
was him or El Cid. This man had destroyed Miguel. Shut him away. El Cid
had abandoned him after twisting Miguel to the leader's own dark selfish
purpose. Without a thought. And El Cid was going to do it again.

 Miguel nodded, and took the task gruffly. Meaning something else
entirely, that the leader was just too stupid to see. "It's done, El Cid.
I'm behind you. He's fucking done." All that dark roughness in Miguel's
voice was not for some member of the Italians.

 "Good. Don't take so fucking long this time, Miguelito. You do this.
Quick. Tomorrow," El Cid ordered before backing off. Walking out of the
pod.

 Casually leaving Miguel to die.

 End up in solitary again. 

 Fucking El Cid didn't care. He was wrapped up in his head,
unceremoniously having condemned one of the Italians, and Miguel. El Cid's
only care was himself. His anger. His leadership. His ego.

 Miguel wanted to punch the motherfucker. But he just left the pod, full
of purpose, but loping slow. Down the stairs, across the quad, making his
way slowly to a table where Ricardo sat, looking twitchy and angry
himself. And on his way, Miguel surreptitiously looked for his shark.
Spotted him casually leaning against a pillar, not looking at Miguel...but
definitely seeing him.

 Time to go. 

 Miguel pulled the bandana out of his pocket, putting it on his head,
still casual. Unconcerned. Steadfast. No one else noticed.

 Ryan did.

 The Irishman started his own laid-back walk. On his way to finish
Miguel's part in this.

 Miguel waited.

 **

 Ryan listened to the spin of Cyril beside him as they sat in the quad. He
was spinning...some magazine...on his finger. Over and over. Ryan stopped
his own flip from the skin mag he was holding. Things were brewing. Ryan
tried to look interested and detached. Like he hadn't started the events
unfolding in front of him. He was good at that. Ryan's hand was
everywhere. But he always made it look like he was on the outside
observing things. Keeping it murky. Was O'Reily behind it? Or wasn't he?
Always looking just cold and calculating enough that everyone could sense
the danger...yet always keeping steps away from everything, so nobody
could blame him. No fingers landing on him for vengeance.

 And these current events, well, O'Reily couldn't have been further from
them. He had nothing to do with El Norte, or Miguel Alvarez. The angry
Latino currently getting his pod tossed...and being hauled off. Tough and
defiant. 

 Ryan swallowed the grin that never made it near his face. Miguel was
doing a lovely job. Strong. Insolent. Cocky. Blameless. Seems like Ryan's
gato was quite the skilled actor himself. Surprise. Anger. Miguel
bristling against guards he had been waiting for. No fear showing. 

 But Ryan knew it was there. Hidden away like Ryan's worry currently was.

 Ryan's face had never seemed as much like a false mask as it did right
now.

 As Miguel got hauled off, Ryan tried to focus on the plan. 

 Looking for El Cid.

 Now, there's a man that didn't have a mask. Just the ugliest fucking face
Ryan had ever voluntarily sought out.

 El Cid looked like he was going to have a fucking stroke. And those
little piggy eyes were throwing daggers at...Pancamo.

 Ryan swallowed a smirk this time. 

 Everything was working perfectly.

 If Miguel could just survive the hole.

 Ryan kept his own fear and worry buried. So deep that even Cyril didn't
sense it. Even Cyril was watching the spectacle though. With those wide
child eyes. His detachment was as real as Ryan's seemed.

 As Ryan watched, he continued planning. His mind always running several
tracks at once, keeping everything humming and in line. It had
been...easier lately. The tension eased by Miguel. 

 Ryan had to get Adebisi to shift him to food delivery in a few days. Ryan
would have to check on Miguel. Despite Miguel's earlier words...Ryan
needed to see. Just for that that second as the tray slid in. Just a
little slot of vision. Ryan needed to be there. Remind Miguel that he
would get out.

 But first there was shit to be done. Ryan had to make sure El Cid was
making his last step. Had to make sure the spark that had been lit blazed
into an explosive funeral pyre. The work had been done. Those embers
tended, that fire sparked. Now he had to make sure the fuse burned fast
and steady to its end.

 Boom.

 ~ Chapter 10: Don't Want You To Be Alone Down There ~

 It took too fucking long for Ryan to get to Ad Seg. Days of that worry
living under his skin. He had pushed it away and focused on the events
happening around him. The goal.

 There had been a minor blowup between El Norte and the Italians. Not
enough. El Cid was pulling out his last threads. With Miguel gone, he had
sent Ricardo. Before his planned trip to the hole, Miguel had informed
Ryan that that would probably happen. They had both agreed Ricardo getting
locked up would only help their cause.

 Ricardo was another hotheaded moron. He'd been hauled off by the hacks
before he'd done shit but piss off the Italians and convince them that El
Cid really was out of his fucking mind. Ryan may have helped the whole
situation turn out precisely right, with Ricardo's attempt failed and his
ass caught by the mysteriously alerted guards. Miguel had probably figured
on that too. 

 Em City had been locked down for four days. Futilely trying to calm the
inmates down. To contain what was brewing. It was all just more fuel to El
Cid's fire against the Italians.

 Ryan slung the trays to the dicks in solitary, not even waiting for them
to be taken through the slot. If the slow scumfucks weren't ready to grab
it, they could eat their food off of the floor.

 He made sure the guard stayed back at his desk at the entrance to the
unit. Out of the hall. Leaving Ryan there alone. He paused at the end, the
hole, bringing the lunch cart to a rattling halt there. 

 Ryan wasn't sure what to expect. He took a breath as he bumped his fist
on the door. Cold, hard resistance met the side of his fist, dulling any
sound. He had to pound to even make enough noise to signal his presence.
He crouched by the food slot. Saw...not much through the sliver. 

 He saw enough to know that Miguel wasn't by the door. Sliver of naked
skin seen on the floor. 

 Not the most promising.

 Ryan stood quickly, throwing back the peephole. 

 Shit.

 Miguel. Curled up in a fetal position in the middle of the empty room.
Locked in his own head. He was awake, because he was moving. A slight
shake. Clutch of hands on skin. Clawing into flesh with the twitches.
Holding his head.

 A dark, almost whimpering sound.

 Muttering in Spanish.

 Shit.

 Ryan was struck by it. Felt it like a sucker punch to his gut. The sight
before him and the realization of how much it tore at him. 

 He did not want to see Miguel like this.

 "Yo, gato," Ryan rasped out. He tried to shake off the sick shock and
breathe, steady his voice. Miguel needed his name. His real one. "Miguel."

 Shake. Twitch. Still lost.

 Nonono. 

 "Miguel!" Loud enough to be heard, but soft enough not to carry.
Stronger, but weak at the same time. A forceful plea. Get back here to me
dammit!

 This had not been the plan. Ryan had fucking trusted Miguel to know what
he could handle. Why the fuck didn't Miguel tell him? Anger at Miguel got
lost in a tangle with that worry made real. 

 Ryan realized - he never would have went this way if he had known it
would do this to Miguel. 

 He didn't want Miguel hurt.

 Ryan wanted that warm, cocky, smart-mouthed bastard with him. 

 Fuck. He really did. Wanted nothing more than Miguel really here with him
right now. He *mattered* to Ryan now. It was never more clear than this
moment. Miguel naked and lost. Trapped.

 Fuck.

 Miguel did hear him and finally shifted a little. Still not turning to
look at the door though, still curled in on himself. Ryan couldn't tell if
Miguel was actually fucking seeing or hearing anything real though, since
he was still talking to himself in Spanish.

 "Gato. Pull it together. You owe me some conversation. Do you have any
idea what it's going to cost me to keep the guard away so I can see you
when you're in here? Half of it is coming out of your end of the tit trade
when you get out."

 Ryan was trying to sound cold and angry. Trying to get Miguel pissed off
and *talking* to him. But...shit. Miguel looked...broken. Ryan couldn't
keep himself from sounding shattered and desperate. 

 Ryan had known this wouldn't be easy. He actually had planned to work
this unit until Miguel was out, stealing as much time as he could. He
already had the money set aside for the hacks. Ryan knew he fucking cared
about what happened to the Latino now. Knew Miguel didn't do well alone
and closed in a tiny room. Ryan remembered his own time in the hole. Knew
it would be worse for Miguel. But he'd had no fucking clue it fucked
Miguel up this badly. How the fuck had Miguel survived solitary in the
first place?

 Oh. That's right. He'd *hanged* himself.

 SHIT.

 This had been a major miscalculation. Miguel had said he could do this,
but Ryan should have heard the truth in his voice. He should have known it
was a front. Should have seen it as shaky determination masquerading as
capability. But he'd thought of nothing but their goal. Just assuming
Miguel would handle it.

 Ryan hadn't planned on leaving him this long without seeing him either.
Five days...was too damn long. 

 Another misstep.

 At least Miguel didn't have any sheets or shoelaces in there...although
if anyone could make a deadly suicide weapon out of a nasty bucket, it
would be Miguel.

 All that Ryan caught in that low Spanish chant was mi tiburón and
possibly something about fish.

 "Yeah, it's your tiburón, gato. But there aren't any fish, it's just us
here." Ryan thought Miguel might actually be hearing him now. 

 Miguel unclenched a little, and that painful knot inside of Ryan did too.
Miguel was talking more steadily now, but it was still all in fucking
Spanish. Still turned away from Ryan. Just showing Ryan the tense bowed
line of his naked back. He at least seemed to be talking more to Ryan
instead of just to himself and the walls.

 "Did you fail ESL, ese?" Ryan taunted lightly, anxious frustration
showing. Trying to get anything. Provoke a reaction again.

 But it didn't get Ryan anything positive. Miguel just curled tighter into
himself. Shit. 

 Wrong tactic then.

 Be nice. 

 Nice had gotten a good reaction.

 It was easier anyway. Felt better.

 "I'm uh...I'm sorry it took me so long," Ryan started, his voice so
fucking soft to keep it between them. Miguel might not even have heard
him. 

 Come to think of it, when Ryan had been in the hole, his sense of time
had been one of the first things to go. Granted, he had been going through
withdrawal, but the main factors were the same. There was no natural
light, and that bare bulb never changed. Most of the time, the food came
irregularly, if at all. Couldn't be trusted to measure out the days. And
while the guards checked on those in solitary at regular intervals, they
mainly ignored whoever was rotting in the hole.

 "It's lunchtime. I'm a little early though," Ryan continued. He had
rushed actually, where usually everyone dawdled just to be out and about.

 But he'd hurried as efficiently as possible without it being noticeable.
So he could be here...talking to someone who may not even be aware of his
presence. But the murmuring in Spanish had gone low...and faded away, like
Miguel was listening.

 "You've been in five days. That's almost a week, Miguel." Ryan realized
he was talking to Miguel like he was...Cyril.

 Like he was slow.

 But Ryan felt that same fear. That same frustration. Worry that the
listener was fucking lost to him. Trying to make them hear him properly.
Understand him. Just trying to get through. Miguel's body slowly relaxed a
little more.

 Ryan tensed in anticipation. Waiting. Hoping for anything...

 And Miguel turned over, looking towards the door now. At Ryan.

 Mostly anyway. Those eyes not...fixed. Not all the way here. Curling up
in on himself again as soon as he'd shifted. Dirty and worn.

 Ryan almost wished Miguel hadn't turned to look at him. Those eyes. Fuck.
They were...gone. So deep. Spinning off into a cold dark place. The rough
lost expression on Miguel's face was so fucking foreign. Far beyond that
worried brood Ryan had seen before. So much worse. It clawed at him like
even those hands still clutching those tattooed arms never could.

 Ryan didn't know what to do. He could see that Miguel was fucking locked
inside of his head. The only thing he could think of to do in the time he
had was to...speak. To try to get those eyes to focus. When Ryan was
talking softly, in a normal friendly voice, not taunting or riling -
Miguel's shaking stopped. Those hands stopped clenching and squeezing
around flesh. Ryan's actual words may not be getting through, but they'd
gotten Miguel turned around. Maybe Ryan's voice could get through whatever
those eyes were actually focused on.

 So, he just started talking. About everything that came to mind. Nothing
serious, just mundane droning meant to be a lifeline, a distraction. To
pull Miguel back with talk of normal, average, routine things. Things that
would remind him that there was something outside of this little room.
Ryan started with the bare facts. Ricardo. The lockdown. But he didn't
want to dwell there, worried that it would send Miguel slipping further
away. He moved on to gossip. Goings on that were interesting, but had
nothing to do with their plans at the moment. He even mentioned Miss
Sally. Filling in the minutes he had trying to get something from Miguel
before he had to go.

 Ryan was focused on Miguel the whole time. Seeking signs of life. Gaze
roving over Miguel's body to see the slight relaxation of that posture,
watching those eyes that *hurt* to look at.

 Miguel eventually seemed closer to actually *seeing* him. He relaxed out
of that fetal curl a little. More just lying there on his side while he
listened to Ryan, the side of his head resting on the stone ground, arms
still wrapped around himself.

 "Es usted verdadero?." A little whisper finally broke through Ryan's
monologue. 

 "Speak fucking English." An immediate thoughtless soft outburst of
frustration leaving Ryan. Harsh, low, and pleading, but not really
directed at Miguel. He was fucking glad Miguel was speaking *to* him at
least. Miguel was here...somewhat.

 And repeating himself...looking like he almost saw Ryan. "Es usted
verdadero?"

 But Ryan had no idea what that low scratching voice was saying. The only
thing clear was that Miguel was asking something. Ryan really fucking
wished he could answer it.

 But he had no idea how to.

 So, he just said what came to his mind at seeing that haunting troubled
face trying to get something from him. "I have to stay on this side of the
door. I can't..." Ryan did *not* choke. He just pressed his hand to the
cold metal. "I wish I could..."

 Ryan actually contemplated it though. Wondered if he could get away with
it. If he could just have a second...but no. He couldn't. 

 And Miguel may have been adrift out of time, but Ryan wasn't. He knew he
had to go now. Had run all his time out to get those few Spanish words and
eyes that almost saw him.

 "I have to go," Ryan said. Steady now. Hand going to that little window.

 No real reaction from Miguel. Knees tucking up tight to his chest. Miguel
was gazing in Ryan's direction, but his eyes were still staring off
slightly, into himself. He must have gotten something though...because
there was another string of Spanish muttering somewhat directed at Ryan
before Miguel tucked his head down. No longer looking at anything.

 Shit.

 Ryan turned to get a tray, bending to slide it through the slot. Miguel
wasn't moving to get it, so Ryan tried to drop it through as gently as he
could manage. Sticking the tray as far through as possible before he let
it drop straight down, trying to keep the food on the fucking plate when
it clattered flatly to the ground. It had worked, mostly. 

 "I'll be back. Eat. Wouldn't want you wasting away. Keep that body in
good shape for me, gato," Ryan said. Trying to be light, because it's all
he had. But his voice was weighted by the still felt sucking of the sick
punch to his guts. 

 Miguel shook a little.

 And Ryan would've sworn it was laughter this time, before he had to shut
that little peephole with the resolute heavy slide of metal closure.

 **

 Ryan used his moves to swing the dinner shift as well. He wanted to keep
picking away at that shell. To see Miguel. Assure him that Ryan was there.
He had given up the chance to collect the lunch trays to get it. Figured
this would be better. Ryan could bring Miguel extra food. He finished up
the rest of his round just as hastily as the last time.

 Another quick rap on that cold metal. Thumping felt to his bone. Before
he slid back the peephole. 

 Miguel was...pacing.

 Up and about...that was good.

 He turned his head at Ryan's presence, and that swift walk switched
tracks and those strides brought Miguel quickly to the door.

 Less lost and zombie looking expression.

 A little intense and fucking frightening though.

 "Miguel," Ryan greeted with cautious relief as Miguel waltzed right up...

 And poked him in the nose with a swift light jab of a dirty slender
finger through the hole.

 Ryan blinked into a grimace, but kept from flinching.

 "What the hell?" Ryan asked, straining to chuckle. Worried. Miguel's
finger had gone back, but he stood right there at the door, head tilted
and eyes focused on Ryan finally. Good signs, despite the odd behavior.
"Do you see me wearing a red clown nose? What's with the fucking poking?"

 Miguel grinned a little. Shaky and dark...but with a little bit of pure
hope. "Tiburón."

 That sick hollow that had been in Ryan's stomach since his last visit
lessened a little. Felt like he could breathe as Miguel started
to...speak. To him. Coherently.

 "I was just checking...making sure you were real earlier." Miguel
explained. Less shaky. 

 And it was in fucking English. Hallelujah! 

 Miguel seemed fine with his statement, but it worried Ryan more. Ryan
found himself leaning forward into the door. Close. Face right there at
the little window with Miguel's.

 "Why, have people that aren't real been visiting you?" Ryan asked, that
concern overtaking any tease.

 Miguel shrugged, although Ryan could barely see it. Miguel's face taking
up his view. Still nowhere near his usual self. Eyes even darker. Close to
being lost. But recognizable. Not trapped and broken. 

 "Yeah. I was fucking hallucinating again."

 "Again?" First words out of Ryan's mouth. Quiet.

 He'd known his gato was loco from the start, but now Ryan fucking
*cared*. Wanted to keep him sane. Relatively. As much as possible. Or
*happily* crazy at least.

 Just got that little slow twitch of a shrug again. Like it was business
as usual. "It happens."

 Shit.

 "Well, I'm here now. For real. But don't fucking jab me in the face
again," Ryan teased, weak but trying to be strong.

 Rewarded for the effort with that slip of a grin from Miguel again.

 "We were locked down for four fucking days," Ryan explained quietly. "I
wanted to come sooner..." Had to give that to Miguel. Wanting him to know.

 "El Cid dead?"

 "Not yet." Ryan had to crush that bit of hope, which was oddly dark and
resigned in Miguel's voice. 

 It seemed Miguel was going to carry around what they had done. Like it
was tough to do. Ryan didn't get that. The motherfucker's death was
nothing to feel guilt for. Ryan felt no qualms, and El Cid had only set
back Ryan's tit operations. It was nothing like what he had done to
Miguel.

 "Oh." Miguel bounced a little on his feet. Like he was going to start
pacing again.

 Ryan wanted to reach through that rectangle cut in the metal and touch
him. Stop him.

 But if Miguel needed to move, he needed to move. Ryan knew what it was
like to be caged in that tiny room.

 Miguel backed up a little. Enough that Ryan could see a bit more of him,
but Miguel wasn't quite giving into that jitter he must feel in his nerves
to pace restlessly again yet.

 "Four days lockdown?"

 "Yeah. You've been in the hole five days now," Ryan repeated, in case it
hadn't registered earlier.

 "Earlier today was the only day you were here?" Miguel asked. "It was
today, right?" 

 Ryan could see Miguel spinning in his own head, trying to hold on to
slippery time and figure things out.

 "Yeah," Ryan answered fast again, trying to help. "Only the once.
Earlier. It's dinner now. Did you eat what I left earlier?"

 Miguel nodded, and finally went back to pacing away from the door. Back
and forth, a few feet away. But Ryan could see all of him now, with each
little circuit. The room was so fucking small.

 Miguel's nudity...wasn't that attractive at the moment. And it wasn't
because he was dirty. Dirty, Ryan could deal with. Everything in here was
dirty, and he was used to the smell. It just made him think of slipping in
the shower together. It was the pacing. And those lost worn eyes that were
trying to hold on.

 "Why, this isn't the first day you've seen me?" Ryan went back to that.
Trying to make that separation between what was just inside Miguel's head,
and what was real out in the world more defined. For Miguel.

 Miguel turned his head to smirk at him as he paced more slowly. "Nope.
But I knew you weren't real before. You turned into Howell."

 Ryan snorted in disgust, trying to ignore how bad Miguel had been if he
was seeing that shit. Didn't matter. They could deal with it. "That cunt?
That must have been traumatic."

 "Mm-hm. And *she* was real," Miguel said with a dark chuckle. "That
always fucking happens."

 Ryan blinked, still leaning into the door. "I always turn into Howell?
Should I be worried about how you see me, gato?" Ryan joked.

 Miguel just shook his head. More relaxed and human and *there* with every
second Ryan just talked to him. "No, it was only you the once."

 Miguel stopped after that, came back to the door. "I'm...okay, Ryan."

 "Yeah...you seem great. I especially loved the all Spanish hour earlier,"
Ryan said sarcastically, but it wasn't harsh. Just that soft concern.

 "Sorry... that happens. I was wondering why you weren't answering me
right. I thought I was too fucked up to hear you properly." Miguel came
even closer. Right back there with him. Ryan pressed closer to the door
unthinkingly. "I understood you though...towards the end, once I realized
you were actually here. I think. I was a little fucked up."

 "No shit," Ryan said softly.

 Miguel reached through the peephole again. Ryan stayed still. Thankfully
Miguel didn't fucking poke him again. Bare awkward brush of fingertips
over Ryan's cheek. He leaned into it. Cold metal digging against part of
his face. But warm real Miguel was all he felt.

 "I'll survive." And Miguel sounded like he was trying to reassure Ryan.

 That wasn't how this was supposed to work.

 "You will. You're tough, remember gato? And El Cid will only last a few
more days," Ryan said. It was his job to be the reassuring one. "I'll be
here every day I'm able until they lock us the fuck down again. And this
time...it'll mean he's gone."

 Miguel's hand left but he nodded. "It's good to see you...for real."

 "Yeah." Ryan's voice so soft, breaking a little on the edges. It was
fucking fabulous to see Miguel making sense. Not shaking. Here.

 **

 The next day, Ryan had the breakfast shift. Bright and early...wanting to
see if Miguel was better or worse. There was that worried gnaw in his gut
that Miguel would have slid right back into that dark head of his
overnight.

 When Ryan slid back the peephole, his heart stuttered with that fear for
a second when he didn't see Miguel up and walking. Back on the
ground...but then he grinned.

 Miguel was all there. Not curled up and lost, but doing push-ups. The
hard kind...and up on his fucking balled fists on the bare hard floor. Now
that was a little worrisome.

 "Doesn't that hurt?" Ryan asked.

 "Yep." Miguel didn't even pause. "Toughens the hands."

 "Okay...because you were soaking them in too much Palmolive and they were
too soft?" Ryan asked.

 Miguel chuckled a little, breaking form before he buckled down and
continued. "It's a boxing thing."

 Oh.

 "I like your hands the way they are," Ryan said without thinking too
much. Remembering them on his skin. Graceful. More elegant than his. And
yeah...softer. Not as soft as a woman's, still masculine, strong, but
fucking nice. They felt...perfect. All that was in his voice.

 And it got Miguel to pause, turning his head to look at Ryan. "Don't
worry, baby. It's just my knuckles. Doesn't change the way I touch you."

 Ryan grinned wider, not so much at the words, as at the fact that Miguel
was back. More like what Ryan was used to. Cocky. Flirting softly. Sure,
he was still tense and frayed looking. Those eyes still haunted even more
than usual, but Miguel was under there. Clawing to the surface to be with
Ryan. Just fighting for the moment. Ryan would get him back unbroken when
this was over. Hopefully. Ryan had to make sure of it.

 Miguel bounded up. Coming back over. Naked and comfortable with it in
front of Ryan, even though Ryan knew he wasn't as comfortable fully naked
when they were out in Em City usually, in the showers. 

 "Your brother's a boxer, haven't you picked up anything?" Miguel teased.

 Cyril. The fucking boxing. Another spot of worry. The boxing was still on
hold because of the tension, and Ryan had been too busy to deal with it.
And the fixed matches were a path Ryan didn't really want to lead Miguel
down. But Ryan pushed all the worry down. He couldn't let it show here. It
might push Miguel back into that dark spiral.

 "Not really." Ryan just shook his head, wanting to change the subject.
"How was your night?"

 Miguel snorted. "Magical. You?"

 Playing it off. But Ryan could hear it there. The strain. Trying to be
tough but Miguel was still grasping. Trying to hold on through sheer force
of will. Downplaying what he was going through. Like he hadn't been
shattered and delusional just yesterday. But maybe that's what he needed
to do, to pretend for a moment, so Ryan let him.

 "Good as can be expected." Like Ryan was the one who might have trouble
sleeping...but he was actually. Because he couldn't get that image of
Miguel curled up and shaking out of his brain when he closed his eyes.
Couldn't be back at ease until this was over. "Cyril's nightmares aren't
as bad. He's been sleeping all night most of the time."

 Miguel looked pleased at that. Concerned for Ryan and Cyril even with
what he was going through. 

 Ryan wasn't used to that from people. Wanted to soak it up and bottle it
away. But Miguel was like that with him. Not only thinking of himself. 

 "That's good, he getting better? Talking to Sister Pete?"

 "Yeah, as always. But it's not just that." Ryan snorted a little. "I've
been doping him when he's really bad."

 Miguel smirked. "Be careful with that shit."

 "It's the stuff you gave me. I only give him half a pill," Ryan said, and
got a reassured nod from Miguel. 

 Ryan kept talking. Repeating some of the goings on that he had gone over
yesterday... because Miguel was *here* now and could retain it. But Ryan
stuck to the inconsequential stuff. Cyril, which Miguel actually seemed
concerned about. Miss Sally, petty squabbles that didn't affect them,
Beecher and Keller's dance. Miguel was there, part of the conversation,
making sarcastic remarks and observations. Both of them managing to...
hold on. Together.

 Ryan had been locked up four days himself, but it wasn't the same. He had
been able to see people. Those glass walls a relief and a curse. No
privacy, but he had been able to watch outside his fishbowl. Movement.
Life going on. And Ryan had had Cyril, another mixed blessing. Days locked
down with restless Cyril got strained, but Cyril was *there* and Ryan
wasn't alone. An annoying, claustrophobic comfort.

 Ryan talked about the lockdown, but not much about it's cause. Just the
views of the passion plays going on outside his walls and behind the
others.

 After a bit, Ryan checked his watch, the weight on his wrist slightly
less unfamiliar these days. He'd been wearing it so much since he'd been
with Miguel. 

 Miguel tensed a little. Tried to hide it, but Ryan was better at reading
him than Miguel was at hiding at the moment. "You have to go?"

 Shit.

 "Yeah," Ryan said softly. It had been over fifteen minutes, which was as
close to the edge as he could push it.

 And it was Ryan who reached up this time through the little hole. Awkward
and cramped but he didn't care. Miguel moved forward, under his hand.
Ryan's fingers tried to cup and caress Miguel's jaw, his face, as much as
he could. Miguel turned into it, eyes closing with a sigh. 

 "I'm sorry, gato," Ryan said...so soft. The only indication that Miguel
even heard the barely whispered words was the little nuzzling press into
his touch...before Miguel pulled away.

 ~ Chapter 11: Ends and Beginnings ~

 Ryan spent the next several days keeping Miguel from slipping back to
insanity. He rushed through his food delivery only to slow down and rest
against that cold metal door, stealing all the time he could. He did all
he could to keep Miguel's mind out of the hole, since he could do nothing
about the body being trapped there. It helped, both of them, if Ryan was
being honest. Miguel was there, holding it together when Ryan saw him. He
looked better overall. No more Spanish. No more hallucinations. Ryan hoped
it was enough to keep Miguel from becoming irretrievably fucked up if Ryan
was locked down away from him.

 That jittery buzz built under Ryan's skin all the while. Waiting, fucking
impatiently, for his scheme to finally work. It was rubbing him rawer than
ever. But at least he could see it playing out, whereas Miguel could not.
El Cid looked fucking insane, snapping at everything when he wasn't
staring dark daggers at the Italians.

 Then...Ryan felt it. One day while working the players, gathering
information, spreading whispers. It was like the smell in the air before a
lightening strike, so clear it was almost enough to raise the hair on his
arms with the electricity. 

 All the players slid into place. Ryan kept informed of it all, going out
of his way to keep tabs, and all the things he knew...added up to the
finale. It clicked in his brain, in the air, finally.

 The perfect cascade of well-placed dominoes -

 Seggio, one of Pancamo's brethren, was in the gym - alone. And Ryan...had
let that slip, talking to Cyril about boxing training while passing El
Cid's table. Cyril left right afterwards to get his head shrunk by the
nun, letting Ryan focus even more keenly. 

 An easily bribable hack was on duty. Murphy was not.

 Ryan watched El Cid and Guerra disappear shortly after Ryan's covert
mutterings. 

 Ryan knew it in his blood. It was coming to a head - now. He quickly made
his way to Pancamo, and his table of boys, to make sure he knew it too, to
make sure that El Cid would have unexpected company. That the ape-man
would be outnumbered. It was so easy. 

 Ryan made sure to hide his haste, and sidle over casually. "Hey there,
Chuckie. How they hanging?"

 Pancamo drew his attention off the pussy in the magazine he was staring
at to look at Ryan. "What do you want, O'Reily?"

 "Want? Nothing." Ryan shrugged. 

 Ryan hid his grin as Pancamo snorted in disbelief. Playing right into his
hand. He knew Ryan was up to something, yeah right. The dumbshit had no
clue.

 Ryan pretended to give in with a slightly deferent tilt of his head,
acting like he had been caught. "Well...okay. I was just hoping to get the
lowdown on the meet between you and the spics. You two finally kissing and
making up?"

 Pancamo blinked, and the guys with him focused on Ryan now too,
practically scratching their heads. "What the hell are you going on about
now, mick?" Pancamo leaned forward a bit, his expression mildly serious,
and still thinking he knew what was up. "You've got some bad information
for once. We ain't meeting." Smug.

 Letting himself look confused, Ryan said, "Huh. Guess so. That's fucking
strange. Cuz this, I witnessed with my own eyes." He leaned closer,
conspiratorial. "I swore I heard El Cid and his butt boy talking about
meeting with you in the gym just now."

 The eyes around the table narrowed. Pancamo knew Seggio was in there,
vulnerable and alone. The big dumb mook could figure that out at least,
although it almost looked like the thought process was causing him pain.
"What?"

 Ryan shrugged again. "Yeah. I thought they were fucking late or
something, because the amigos sure were hustling there looking determined,
talking about you wops."

 Bingo. 

 "You don't say, O'Reily?" Pancamo was taking him seriously now. Believing
him. Acting like he was figuring things out that Ryan didn't already know.
Just like Ryan wanted.

 Ryan made sure to put the cherry on top, to make sure Pancamo moved.
Framed it like an idle, out loud pondering. "Yeah, but who knows with that
guy. I mean, have you seen him lately? He's fucking on edge. I wonder
what's gotten up his ass? He's going off on everyone. Maybe he was just
ranting." 

 That did it. It was more than enough.

 "Must've been." Pancamo's voice was dark as death. His mind clearly
spinning behind his eyes. 

 All he was missing was the steam pouring out his ears. 

 Ryan shrugged again, but Pancamo was no longer focused on him. Dismissing
him by turning to his boys. Ryan didn't mind in this case. He went on his
way, job done. The rest of the players were murmuring to each other before
Ryan got two steps away. They were already hustling to the gym before Ryan
had made his way too far from the table. He lingered near their abandoned
table instead of sitting down somewhere else. When they cleared the gate,
he went over and idly picked up the skin mag Chuckie had left behind. He
flipped through it a bit before tossing it back down. Wasn't that good.
And who knew what kinds of fluids were on it. Ryan pulled his own out of
his back pocket before taking up residence at another table.

 He almost wished he could see it play out its final act, watch the
cocksucker's final moments for Miguel, watch their plans come to fruition,
but staying out of the way was best. He stayed waiting, with that hum
under his blood. The worry. Anticipation. Waiting to see if it worked, or
if the players fucked it up. Even if they did, Ryan had outs. He reviewed
them in his mind as he sat in the common room in well-masked anticipation.

 If El Cid survived?

 Spike his food. Spike his tits. Get Adebisi to have him taken care of.
Blame it on the Italians. Even better if one of the wops got airholed in
the gym, it would make it more believable. 

 A miracle occurs, El Cid undergoes a personality transplant and the spics
and the wops made hasty peace with a truce?

 Do El Cid anyway, everyone would just think the truce was a ruse, and the
wops wouldn't really care.

 Ryan flipped through his magazine, fingers tapping idly on the table.
Fucking waiting. If it happened now - they would be locked down. Cyril was
with the Sister. Ryan would have to be caged alone to think until Cyril
was brought back and deposited. Good, and bad. His attention was drawn
away by...Liam. Perfect.

 "Yo, me boyo." Ryan called him over with a grin.

 He got an eager one in return from Liam. This new guy was...good. Loyal,
obedient, eager to please, not so bright that he would get dangerous ideas
in his head, but not stupid. 

 "Yeah, what do you need?" Liam asked, voice low and designed not to carry
with that grin still on his face. So very eager, and knowing Ryan needed
something.

 "I think things are possibly about to get very fucking interesting around
here. Do me a favor and hang near the hacks, listen for news?"

 "Done." Liam rapped on the table and casually made his way to hang out on
the rail by the raised guard station in the middle of Emcity.

 Good boy.

 Pancamo and his boys came back first...with Seggio. They were looking
pissed and a bit too worked up. Trying a bit too hard to look innocent.
They were practically whistling and looking around at the sky with wide
innocent eyes like a fucking cartoon, until they got to their table and
hunkered down for a serious conference. All those eyes darting to the
gates...waiting like Ryan was.

 Ryan sat up slightly in his seat, but stayed casual. He caught Liam out
of the corner of his eye still idling within hearing range of the hack in
charge of the board.

 Ryan looked up from his magazine just enough to see that hack suddenly
talking on his walkie. Looking stressed. Time for the curtain call -- who
was left onstage?

 Lots of rapid walkie talk was happening within Liam's hearing range.
Hacks were moving suddenly, the one at the main board moving and
abandoning his coffee, flipping switches - and there he went to the mic.

 "Lockdown!" Harsh shout carrying all that tension on the hacks faces,
abrasive as the buzzer.

 Ryan tucked his grin away to savor later, and settled on a groan and a
grumble as he moved slow, getting up like it was an awful chore. His
grumbles joined all the others, the mutters of surprise and curiosity, of
anger, as everyone moved reluctantly. Ryan kept his lope not quite as
slow, and met up with Liam on his way up.

 "What's the headline?" Ryan asked, leaning his head towards Liam.

 Liam was right in step with him for a moment to whisper in his ear.
"Hernandez is dead. The other spic, Guerra, is in the hospital ward."

 "Good job, thanks." Ryan said with a soft tap of his magazine to Liam's
shoulder as the other Irishman split off, looking pissed at the lock down
but pleased to have served.

 Ryan entered his pod as the hacks started rounding up stragglers. The
hacks were fucking tense. The wops had looked...pleased. 

 The door slid closed with that whoosh of air that let him breathe.
Finally. He saw the hack at the controls locking them away as he just
leaned against the glass, looking out.

 They'd be stuck like this for a while. Hard to tell for how long. Ryan
had that satisfaction of a plan run smoothly to its end in his veins...

 But it was blotted out by thoughts of another. Trapped. Alone now.

 For...who the hell knew how long.

 His gato - trapped in that fucking head without Ryan to pry him out. 

 Ryan hoped Miguel remembered what this meant. Remembered that it was all
over now. They would both be let out, and when they were...Miguel would be
unchained. He would be Ryan's real partner, in charge and strong at his
side.

 Now...it was just beginning.

 **

 Ryan kept from restlessly pacing in front of the glass by staying in his
cot. They'd be here for a while. The pacing could wait until he was ready
to crawl out of his skin. He'd have someone to distract him when they
brought Cyril back. And that would be plenty to keep his hands full. Cyril
didn't cage his restlessness; he didn't have the presence of mind to.
While they were locked down, Cyril acted out every itch under Ryan's skin.
Talking. Complaining. Shadow boxing. Bouncing that fucking ball endlessly
against the wall until the thuds matched the ones in Ryan's head. Yeah,
Ryan remembered it all too well from just last week. While deep down Ryan
was grateful for the company, it was the surface annoyances that
frustrated him. 

 This was the last peace of mind Ryan would have for a while. He needed to
take this precious time to get his head straight, so he could cope when
the guards finally brought Cyril back. It wouldn't be long, as soon as
things were fully controlled, and calmer. Once the dust settled enough to
move him, they'd want to get Cyril safely locked up in his cage as well.

 Ryan sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he lay there on top of
his made bed. His stress level was higher than usual.

 Because of Miguel. 

 Ryan was having it made painfully clear just how much
Miguel...relaxed...him, now that the Latino was gone. Lockdown again, and
Ryan would be counting the days until Alvarez was back. That worry over
just how Miguel was doing without *him* would keep Ryan cold company all
the while. 

 The satisfaction of a plan coming smoothly to completion and hopes for
future stability weren't the only things on Ryan's mind. There were other
issues overshadowing everything.

 Ryan just wanted Miguel back out. Not to watch his back, or help his
moves, or play the game covertly at his side - but just here. With him.
Like they were in those increasingly frequent stolen moments when business
took a back-seat. He missed Miguel's company. He was worried about
Miguel's welfare.

 Things had changed. And now Ryan had the time to really settle down with
it and scope out the new landscape properly. Not the one outside the glass
wall, he always had that one mapped, but the one inside of him. His heart.
That part of him had been quiet lately. Not because it was dead, but
because he was... happy.

 Fuck. 

 His feeling better than he had in ages had left him able to focus razor
sharp on that outer landscape. On physical survival. Until now. When he
was worried. Restless. Strained. Aching. Lonely.

 And he knew why.

 But it wasn't because of Gloria anymore. He didn't feel the same about
her now. Thoughts of her triggered pain and guilt over Cyril. He saw
Cyril's destroyed life when he looked at her. He saw everything he thought
he felt...fading away. He would always care about her. She was a good
person that he had felt wonderful things for, but it was different now.
Quiet. Changed. He had gotten what he had wanted - her out from under his
skin.

 Ryan jerked up, out of his reverie, at the distinct sound of compressed
air being released -- the familiar signal of the door to his pod opening. 

 Cyril.

 "Ryan!" Cyril came in quick, led by an irritated looking guard that
swiftly left them locked back up. Leaving him with Cyril and his innocence
and confusion. "Did something bad happen? Why are we not allowed to leave
again?"

 "It'll be okay, little brother. It's nothing bad for us." Ryan said
truthfully, going for calm reassurance. He threw himself out of bed to
greet his brother, leaving everything else for later. 

 **

 Later was after lights out. Back in his bunk, keeping an ear out for
Cyril. Ryan was staying awake until he heard Cyril settle down. It would
be useless to pass out, only to be brought awake by screams after half an
hour if Cyril had an early nightmare. But that wasn't the real reason.
Cyril was doing better with that shit. Unfortunately, Ryan was pretty sure
the break in boxing was partially to commend for that. Cyril wasn't
stressed over not wanting to box. 

 Ryan couldn't sleep anyway. He had things to turn over in his head before
he could rest easy and start planning for the new post-lockdown order.

 Things having to do with Miguel. 

 Ryan wanted to continue what they had as soon as Miguel came out. Ryan
wanted Miguel with him... for the foreseeable future. And not just at his
side in the tit trade, although the smooth installation of that plan was
something he'd have to return to in his mind after he got matters that had
nothing to do with business out of his head. 

 Ryan had had indiscretions with men in here before. Quick, secret, played
close to his chest, and strictly for getting his rocks off. It was rare
and extremely hidden by necessity. It was plainly about his dick and
nothing else. Anyone involved knew that. Like Adebisi having boy toys or
even Vern and those fucks forcing prags. The only slight difference being,
Ryan made sure the few guys that touched him were willing. But even if his
actions came out, which they never had, Ryan was careful it would never
have been seen as anything but a strong guy following his dick into any
available hole. An acceptable fact of prison life. 

 Miguel was...different. He hadn't started out that way. But now...their
relationship was going on for a long time. And Miguel was getting as much
as he was giving. Ryan's balls weren't behind the steering wheel anymore.
Neither was business.

 It was time for Ryan to figure out the layout of possibilities for this
change. How it would be viewed. What it meant.

 He wasn't a fag if he didn't take it up the ass. He wasn't a fag if he
wasn't a bitch.

 But what if he dreamed about Miguel? Not Miss Sally and her great tits,
not Gloria as his angel anymore...but Miguel. Well, there was that very
nice dream with him and Miguel and Miss Sally as the fun creamy center --

 Ryan shook that thought out of his head. It would be too easy to get
caught up in hazy, blissful remembrance here in the secluded dark under
his stifling sheets. That wasn't the matter at hand. 

 What if he worried for the loco Latino? What if he cared about him?

 What if he wanted Miguel by his side forever?

 What did that make Ryan?

 Fag. 

 There was an impulsive, base fear attached to the word, the idea.
Especially in here. It was wrong. It was dangerous. It was weak. A
weakness.

 But so was any emotion. Any attachment meant danger. If you cared about
something, you cared about losing it, and that was a weakness to be
exploited. Anything that mattered...was just another thing that could be
taken. Another thing that could be threatened. 

 Caring about another person? It meant you were weak in the eyes of these
dumb fucks. They didn't see it. The strength. The best things.

 To them, if you were a tough motherfucker, you only cared about yourself
or your gang.

 And if you were a fag?

 Cocksucker. Maricon. 

 You were opening yourself up to trouble. 

 To the guys in here, fags were pussies. Fags were prags. Less than. Not a
real man.

 But if no one knew...

 Ryan turned over restlessly. He always had to think it through. No one
knew now. The plan was still that no one ever would. But the possibility
was there. What if they did find out? Ryan chased it down, thought it out.

 His love for Gloria had been a weakness, but she was a woman. The
difference mattered. 

 His cancer was a weakness, and that was closer. Breast cancer. Like a
chick. A pussy.

 Cyril. Taking care of Cyril? Weakness. The biggest one of all. Cyril was
his vulnerability. But Ryan managed it. It had been the worst at first.
Cyril had been victimized even when everyone *knew* he was Ryan's blood.
But Andy Boy had paid the price his father owed for touching Ryan's
brother. 

 Ryan ticked off his weaknesses in his head. He'd survived them all. 

 He already cared about Miguel, and it wasn't even a question of stopping.
Miguel mattered. Ryan would hold on to this good feeling he had found with
all he had. That wouldn't change. It was too important, especially in
here, despite the danger. He had found that with Miguel. Case closed. And,
well...he was fine with the cock thing. More fine than he'd even thought
he was actually, but he'd never been as against it as he acted. He talked
plenty of shit, and twitched when it was mentioned, mostly to keep safe.
All that no fag bullshit mainly just made sure no one found out about it.
It was strategy. Caution. To keep hassle free when he could. No use
complicating shit when you could keep it simple and play straighter than
straight. Now, the complications were a possibility, but Ryan could handle
that too. He'd kept out of it as much as necessary before because it had
only involved his lust. It hadn't been worth any unneeded stress.

 Ryan may have been a little uncomfortable with it internally in the past,
but not nearly as much as he carefully made it seem. The shit with the
cancer had flipped him the fuck out a little for one thing, made him
wonder if that's why he'd gotten it, but that had been the fear and
confusion about the plague in his body, and he'd calmed back down
afterwards. 

 He'd only ever told himself some of those fag stories. Like how he gave
into it sometimes, and appreciated men, more out of necessity in here.
Like the narrowed choices made it different, more okay. That was just a
bit of his own personal denial, in addition to the false things he said
out loud, that he saw more clearly now. In the end, now that he'd found
someone he wanted to be with, he'd had to own up to things and admit that
it was more than that. What he'd found had eased his denial away without
him caring much. He'd been too busy wanting more and feeling good. 

 Denying it now, when he felt all this, would be futile and fucking
stupid. The rare good things had to be embraced when you found them. Why
would he want to keep himself from feeling this? To try to hide from it?
He needed it too much. Hiding it from others was safe and logical, because
of the way *they* viewed it, hiding it from himself was something
different. He'd have to be dumb as shit, like those Nazis that spent all
their time violently fucking guys and still pretending it meant they were
straight and powerful, not just horny, deluded, evil cumstains.

 Fags had never really bothered Ryan, personally. He hadn't looked down on
it like some guys did, no matter what shit he said. It was always more
about fear and caution than true passionate objection on the subject for
him. His upbringing and life discouraged that shit, but it was something
he'd never really taken to heart. He knew weakness had nothing to do with
where you stuck your dick or who turned your crank, it was only that
perception of weakness that had held him up. On the outside, well, he'd
had enough pussy that he could...ignore...anything else stirring his
blood, as long as it didn't stir his heart. It never had. But he loved
being with Miguel, in every sense. He liked Miguel's body. It turned him
the fuck on, strong and sure. When it came to this, cock and heart were
what mattered to Ryan - and they both approved. 

 Ryan stretched a little, head digging a more comfortable groove in the
thin pillow. Time to move on...survival rate of fags in here. 

 Keller fucked guys. That didn't mean much in and of itself - Adebisi
fucked guys, but they were a parade of fresh-faced prags. But Keller
*cared* about Beecher and everyone knew it. Keller, who didn't have a gang
or half of Ryan's moves, and he survived. Hell, *Beecher* was more of a
danger to Keller than anyone else was. Ryan knew who had ambushed and
airholed Keller. He knew what Law Boy was capable of, even if Keller
didn't. Demented fucking love birds.

 Law Boy...well, that didn't count. He'd been so fresh and innocent. He
wasn't like Ryan in some important ways. He had that survivor's potential
in him, but Ryan had to coax it out. Help him. The fucks in here didn't
see what Ryan did at first, only Ryan saw those parts buried underneath.
But he was only pondering perception right now, and Beecher had never had
Ryan's rep, he never would. Ryan discounted him from comparison, but kept
him in mind. 

 Keller's rep helped Beecher, protected him from all but the Aryans. So
did Beecher's craziness. That smart, brutal survivor Ryan had uncovered,
and who was fucking crazier and more of a survivor than Ryan's gato? He
just needed it publicized better. Miguel had a dangerous rep in the
making, all the history was there, the truth to back it up. The guy had
blinded a fucking hack, taken a shank, taken a bullet, led during the
riot. Miguel just hadn't executed his image properly. He didn't use it
like he could. The right word of mouth would take care of that. And Miguel
didn't have the history Beecher did, the weakness. He'd never been a prag.
He was tough.

 Cramer. Now, Cramer had fucked guys like it was going out of style.
Cramer was labeled a fag even on the outside. He was the real deal. He was
also tough. He survived in Unit B. *With* his little Anthony. People
talked shit, sure, but nobody touched that cocksucker.

 It could be done. It was just rare.

 But that was Ryan's talent, surviving against the odds. 

 Ryan could handle it if it got out. He would do his best to keep it
quiet. That was the plan. So that Miguel could lead. So that they could
lead together. But Ryan could rest easier about that now after examining
it in his head.

 Reassured, Ryan turned to his feelings for Miguel to soothe himself....

 Fuck...

 He had to admit...they were enough to make it all worth it. They were
light here in the dark. Relief in the face of the strain of life. 

 It was a huge fucking surprise. This...had not been the plan.

 Miguel was sliding right under his skin, clawing Gloria out with ease. He
was slipping into Ryan's blood, pumping straight to his heart.

 Gloria. That obsession that had consumed Ryan was burning out and
settling down finally. Those outside voices had said it wasn't really
love, but it had been the closest Ryan had ever come, and it hurt to give
it up. It hurt to let go of the idea. He had been so sure that she was the
best thing he'd ever found...it had felt so good for a while. He had
wanted to prove them wrong. He wanted to be happy and he hadn't been
willing to give that up just because everyone thought he was wrong. He had
wanted so badly for it to be real, he'd convinced himself it was. But he
wasn't happy, and maybe they weren't entirely wrong after all. 

 Gloria was a beautiful woman. Kind. She had given Ryan feelings he'd
cherished, helped him discover what he could feel. But going after her had
only destroyed them both, killing everything that was good. She was in
pain and Cyril was trapped. Because of him. Ryan had lost so much...it was
fucking impossible to believe it hadn't been for a good reason. For true
love. It was hard to accept that he'd stolen his brother's life and his
own...for something that could end. Something that wasn't all there was.
But Ryan had to face the truth that he didn't want any of that anymore. He
didn't want her. He could be happy without her. It was like a little
death. Giving up something that had taken so much of him, realizing it
wasn't worth what it had cost him. Slowly realizing that he could feel
something even better, that there was someone else he felt those amazing
warm pure feelings for. But with the loss came relief. He no longer had
that burning in his heart for someone he couldn't have. This was what he
had wanted -- her out of his brain. 

 Ryan hadn't meant for it to happen this way though. Miguel had not been
supposed to...burrow so deep. This was not what Ryan had wanted at first,
not what he had planned. He'd wanted a distraction, a strong ally...not
this. But he knew just as surely that he couldn't stop it. He didn't want
to.

 In the beginning it had been about logic. Ryan had known a partnership
could be beneficial to him, that he could use Miguel to help him achieve
his own ends. He'd even known that it could be more than that if he
wanted, more of a true partnership without the usual deception and
manipulation. He'd also known that Miguel would feel good guarding his
back, playing a part in his plans, and would even feel good under his
hands. He was someone Ryan could get off with, because that helped too.
The relaxation and tension release did wonders for Ryan's mind.

 But Ryan hadn't known just how good Miguel would feel, just how much this
would bring him. Miguel wasn't the one Ryan had expected to catch a taste
of happiness with. Ryan had just wanted a bit of relief, a shoulder to
carry the smallest bit of the weight. He was getting that and more.

 Miguel...who called Ryan a cold predator's name and then turned around
and treated him like something else entirely. Ryan said things he
shouldn't, pulled Miguel closer than was necessary. Sharing that weight
and his schemes far more than he'd planned. And he couldn't stop that
either, not when Miguel was slipping pills in his pocket in unasked for
kindness, touching him with that fire, holding him when Ryan broke down,
and grinning as sharp and bright as the sun reflecting off of metal.

 Ryan couldn't help feeling this tug. Not when Miguel gave back whatever
Ryan showed him of himself. Miguel had been pissed and reluctant at first,
acting like he was tangled up in Ryan's schemes. Ryan had been a last
resort for him. But now...Ryan saw that amused joyous spark in his eyes
and smile when Ryan laid out the details of a plan. Miguel liked having a
partner. It was even more than that though. They had started stealing time
away together - just for the simple purpose of seeing each other. It felt
good to share shit with him. The more Ryan gave Miguel of himself, the
more Ryan included him, the more Miguel rose to it and responded in kind.
Miguel opened like a book for Ryan, and all Ryan had to do was ask. And it
felt too good to stop. 

 What was supposed to have just been business, even if Miguel was less of
a pawn than usual, had become more than allying with someone to ease the
weight. Miguel shifted beyond someone he could talk to about things,
intricacies that Cyril didn't understand, even beyond a partner in mind
and deed. Miguel made his blood pound in his veins. 

 Ryan hadn't meant to *feel* anything for Miguel. He hadn't meant to care
about Miguel...but he did. So fucking much. Everything he'd found with
Gloria...was right here. Found with that hot body, smart mouth, unexpected
kindness, and playful spark. Miguel.

 And every time Ryan showed something real of himself, even just a
hint...Miguel didn't bat an eye. Miguel casually and comfortably accepted
every new dimension of their relationship. Miguel made it worth the risk
of opening up and showing him more. He trusted Ryan. Even when he didn't
want to.

 Ryan *knew* Miguel would have his back. Just like he knew that his time
with Miguel felt fucking good. Their business arrangement had shifted far
past that business, and Miguel just moved with it, talking and laughing
with Ryan like they were becoming friends. Miguel made it worth relying on
him, being real, and trusting him more than Ryan had planned. Because it
felt more right than anything else in his life.

 **

 In the hole, a cacophony amped up slowly inside of Miguel's head. Ryan
had been there briefly, pulling him out of it, drowning out everything
else; giving him something to grasp so he could pull himself up the
precious inches to sanity, for a while. 

 And then Ryan had disappeared.

 Miguel knew what that meant. It was almost over. They were in lockdown.
Had to be. El Cid was dead. He would be out. He would be safe. He would be
out of that fucker's destructive grasp for good. Miguel curled up with the
ghosts of Ryan's reassurances whispering in his ears.

 Until time passed. Until sane hopeful things faded, and everything
slipped into the dark contained in those four small walls. The dark in his
head. Because it was never really dark in the hole. The hacks liked to
leave the bare bulb on all the time for him. To fuck with him, it was
always lit. Always fake day. He always had a clear view of those same four
walls, that same stone floor and ceiling. But no matter how long they kept
that bulb on, it always seemed dark. Because some darkness was too real
and pervasive to be kept at bay by filaments. It was carried inside. It
was trapped without a window. He lost track of anything. Time unending
with no demarcation. Just one immeasurably long present that made
everything outside the hole more distant, less real. He lost faith. He
lost that confidence.

 And everything crawled out of the dark to greet him.

 Everything that was wrong with his plan came first.

 El Cid could've survived. He could come out on top. There were so many
variables they had to finesse. Ryan was the king of finesse. Maybe it was
Ryan's time to stumble. Maybe Ryan had never planned it that way at all.
Ryan could be lying. Ryan could be out there laughing his ass off at
Miguel right now.

 With Adebisi. The two of them preying on the chaos amongst the Latinos
that Miguel had helped cause. 

 Or maybe with some new puppet head of El Norte under his control.

 Or with El Cid himself.

 Miguel was in here. Trapped in the dark. He had no way of
knowing...anything. It all slipped away like his measure of days now that
Ryan wasn't slinging food and conversation at him though the small slots
of light.

 Alone and slipping into the dark...Miguel's surety in his observations
about Ryan faltered. If Ryan was playing him...fuck. It would rip Miguel
to shreds now. He was in too deep. He had let Ryan in. Trusted him. Miguel
*liked* the devious crazy fucker. Needed him in a way that had nothing to
do with schemes, gangs, or tits.

 Those worries that had been quieted, the things that had been soothed in
his mind by his experiences with Ryan were nagging Miguel now. Doubt.
Fear. 

 Then came worse things.

 Worse because they were the undeniable truth. No matter how crazy he
was...they were always real. Forever.

 Miguel had done this. Miguel had betrayed his vows. Every justification
fell away when he was in here alone with the facts.

 He had turned on his leader. He had abandoned everything he believed in.
He had smiled at the man, and planted a dagger in his back with a shark at
his side. A shark that had never known loyalty of any kind. And Miguel had
joined him. The things he felt for Ryan now didn't matter. Back then he
had known nothing. It hadn't mattered. He'd joined blindly.

 Everything Miguel had given his life over to...he had turned his back on.
He was a betrayer. 

 Even if the reigns of his life were the prize, and not thirty pieces of
silver. He had known what he was getting into when he joined El Norte.
When he took those vows. When he swore that allegiance. Everything he was
snatching back...was something he had given up willingly. Because he
believed. In his honor, his word. 

 And he had backed out. Like it had never meant anything at all.

 Rivera meant nothing. Miguel had taken something precious, something that
could never be given back...and he'd done it for a vow that in the end, he
had betrayed when it suited him. His nightmares of the man were
intensified here. Rivera accusing him, bleeding on him...those clawing
hands trying to take Miguel's own eyes in payment when he closed them to
sleep. He heard the echoing ring of that dropped bloody blade still, here
alone with only his own heartbeat.

 Everything Miguel had lost, everything he had destroyed...

 ...had been for nothing. For words that meant less now.

 He had stretched them. For himself. For his own life and sanity. 

 And it had shifted past that. 

 To a hot mouth.

 A long body.

 Rough hands and green eyes.

 Laughter, comfort, and the exploration of skin.

 Lying with another betrayer. Who might even be his -- his partner,
his...lover. His own betrayer. Miguel wasn't sure which one Ryan really
was anymore. Not in here. No matter what Miguel had thought he was finding
with Ryan out there...he wasn't as sure about it's reality here in the
dark. Maybe it was his shark's deception.

 Miguel had given up his bond with his blood, with the gang that had
carried and led his life, given up a slice of his honor...

 For all this. To take care of himself.

 And the very worst thing, the thing that whispered insidiously in his ear
in the dark...

 ...was that he was happy with it.

 This was what he had wanted. It felt better. He wanted this to be real.
Wanted it to work. 

 He had given up a piece of the loyalty that he'd had his whole life,
scratched the shine off of it, bending his values to save himself. And he
would do it again if given the chance.

 As dark as it got, Miguel didn't slip away completely. Even with the
nightmares, there were still rare bright spots. Good hallucinations
bleeding from good memories. Times when he could hold on to those pleasant
real memories. And fuck - it was amazing enough he had any that had taken
place in Oz. But he did now. 

 Through the doubt and fear and loss of surety...bits of Ryan peeked
through. Dim memories of their time together, before those slowly faded
away. It took a while for that to happen. But then the hallucinatory
mindfucks eventually came to replace them. Twisting the old memories,
drifting to dream, to nightmare. Visions of losing himself in Ryan's
mouth, in Ryan's word...until Ryan stood aside while an invisible shank
came out of the dark and pierced Miguel's side. And it was always too dark
in the vision/dream to see the expression on Ryan's face. Was he grinning?
Or was he afraid? Had he planned it, or been just as blindsided as Miguel?


 But he was able to hold on to the slightly more firm, recent memories of
Ryan talking to him in here. They came up occasionally through it all.
Miguel liked to believe that those words had been real. That the concern
had been genuine. He wanted to remember that he had believed Ryan, been
almost sure of it, before he'd slipped into the dark. He needed that
belief here.

 It was all a jumble. Falling on top of him. The guilt, pain, and fear
rocking him to sleep. It echoed with his mindless steps circuiting the
small room when he was awake. What he had done was always there with
everything else. And that couldn't be blamed on Ryan. 

 Ryan had only held the apple. Miguel had taken the bite.

 But one thing stayed true. Whatever he did after this, if there was any
life beyond this empty cold room, Miguel would stick to those old values
from now on. The rest of his vows to El Norte were still strong,
meaningful, in contrast to the weak flexibility he had given part of them
to escape the crush of El Cid's hands around his throat. He wouldn't break
them completely. He would go back to them, honor them, because he still
believed. He hadn't turned into a permanent, two-faced betrayer. He'd only
turned on one man. The man who would have had no qualms about turning on
him. The man that had been itching to get rid of him since he'd first laid
eyes on Miguel. Miguel would do his best for the rest of El Norte. 

 But he'd always know...he had broken some part of those vows to save
himself. 

 To save himself from...possibilities. The *possibility* of a life back in
solitary. The *possibility* of no life at all. But it hadn't even been
kill or be killed. That was excusable. This was a crossed line. This was a
preemptive strike. A what if. His honor had no place for what if. You
trusted. You gave yourself up. And you were supposed to deal with the
consequences of that. He hadn't. He had made sure it never came to a shank
through his ribs, or a life lost back in solitary. Instead, he had
followed his own interests, for that security of crossing off the "what
if" and trading it in for a certainty. Taking care of one dangerous
possibility to be faced now with the possibilities that would never come
to pass because of that move. He'd followed the possibility of danger to
him -- what if El Cid's grudge against him had taken over. But what if it
hadn't? What if Miguel hadn't gotten into the murky water with his shark?
What if Miguel had stuck completely by his honor and played along, like he
had vowed to? He may have survived. El Cid might not have doomed Miguel
the way Miguel did him. A part of Miguel, quiet and losing its voice in
the dark, knew that El Cid's hostility towards him would only grow, that
it had just been waiting to take new form, to lash out... 

 Miguel had crossed that line and not taken the chance. He hadn't been one
hundred percent sure. No knife had been right at his throat. It hadn't
come yet. Miguel had struck first to ensure it wouldn't go down that way.
And here...the loud, sharp, rending parts of Miguel wouldn't let him
forget that.

 He dreamt of...well...a lot of shit. And sometimes it was hard to
separate dream from hallucination. But the most frequent, the ones that he
assigned to deep night, even though he never had any idea what time it
was, were memories of taking his first vows. 

 Being beaten into El Norte. Jumped by everyone he was pledging to. A
gauntlet of pain. He felt every blow. Heard the shouts for blood
accompanying every impact to his willing flesh. Fresh and clean as the day
it had happened. He remembered that what he was doing had gotten him
through it. The meaning. The allegiance. Earned through blood and the
solid smash of his skin down to deep muscle, feeling like it was
shattering his very bones. It had meaning. It had been worth it. Duty. All
of it was now living behind his lids while they fluttered in REM sleep.

 And when he first woke up, nakedly alone on cold stone, he could still
feel it. All over again. Reminding him of what he had betrayed. 

 He deserved it. Reliving it alone every night -- this here and now hell
trapped in his head -- was his penance.

 ~ Chapter 12: Squinting in the Sun ~ The change was abrupt. Out of the
limitless immeasurable grey, the outside world was suddenly back -- loud
and slicing. "Alvarez! Month's over! Get your ass up!"

 The thud next to his face of clothes hitting cement brought him the first
scent that wasn't steel or his own biting waste and sweat. It was cheap
industrial detergent, but it smelled like a spring breeze at the moment.
The outside world, reality. The clack of the standard issue flip-flops
following the clothes echoed through his head. All of it pulling him back
fast.

 All the rules he'd shed sprang back like that bark, like that stark light
that changed the room. As he pulled himself up, Miguel's vision blinked to
the open door. 

 Open. 

 Showing more dim light. A hall. 

 The continuance of life.

 Another shock all its own. Miguel moved quick, dressing without needing
to think. Automatic motion as his head slammed with the world. The one he
would rejoin.

 The ingrained routine and rules of behavior overtook that swim of pain
and confusion that had swept him away. Because through it all, he
knew...he did not have time to adjust. To regain sanity. There was no
leniency for such things in Oz. 

 He was back in Oz. True, he hadn't left the prison walls, but he'd left
the bodies and minds that made it a different kind of prison. It went from
being his own inescapable trap back to being a whole different kind, with
the opening of that thick steel door. Shifting from being alone with his
own demons and nothing else to having to survive among the demons of many.

 Miguel slid on his stone face and swagger with his clothes. He needed to
appear in control now, even for the guards. He shut the howl of everything
else away like the slam of the door to the hole behind them as he followed
the guard out. Back into the fray the second his name had been called.

 The shit in his head gave way to his survival instinct. Learned behavior.
The chaos didn't matter, couldn't help him, and would only drown him when
he was out in the world. With every step, every slide slap of those flimsy
plastic shoes to that ever-present stone, he erected barriers in his mind.
Shoved the mess of pain and guilt away. Every breath of fresher air
clearing his head. Bringing him back. Fast. Because it was necessary. Out
of his hole. Out of his head.

 Reality.

 Biting clean. Showing him the truth. The standard temporary clothes felt
strange on his skin. Muffling. Chafing. Made him feel even dirtier with
his filth layered under them. 

 This was reality. Those nightmares gone, replaced with his real life.
Just as brutal. But more dangerous. Because it was danger that was
everywhere, not just from himself. At the same time, it was a vital
improvement. All because he wasn't locked away with only himself.

 It was always like this, an abrupt shift from being lost in his own head
to what was real outside of it. It would take days to really be back, to
fully regain his hold, but he always came back enough to cope and function
as soon as he was...free. It might not be real freedom, the one beyond
bars and out of his reach, but this, the kind he could have, meant
everything to Miguel.

 Every step away from Ad Seg continued to bring him closer to what passed
for sanity. Still tense as a live wire, still worried. But he was starting
to be able see the shit in his head for what it was. A stir-crazy maze.
Delusions building on his fear. 

 He got back to Emcity, and his lungs ached with the pressure of that
fresh air, that fresh view, all that open space. Beautiful, but painfully
so from the abrupt change. The lights too bright for his eyes. And he was
sane enough to know he couldn't show it. Miguel kept his casual cocky
stroll and his face a mask of stone violence and seriousness. Blank of the
pain. Blank of the lost feeling he'd fell into in his month in the hole.

 All the people were another shock, but he didn't let that show either. He
let the words, the shouts, the customary whistles, and taunts, either
adversarial or congratulatory, slough right off him. He saw them as one
big picture at the moment. One mass, even as his instincts watched each
player carefully, judging distance to his body. Assessing threats and
safety. They'd be real people later, when he could handle that. For now --
it was too much after so little to ask of his mind and wary nerves.

 Except there was one face he saw as a fully realized person. One he
noticed as individual, human, instead of just a possible threat, a body to
be cataloged by group, by level of caution that needed to be assigned to
it.

 Ryan O'Reily. Right there. Looking just as casual in his own mask. His
very body carrying the ruse as he sat at a table in the common room. The
Irishman was slumped back and relaxed, owning the joint, his legs up on
the table. Watching. That gaze burning a hole through Miguel. On him like
a heat seeker the second Miguel had entered view. 

 Only Miguel could see the lack of casualness in that gaze. All eyes were
on him as he came back, but that grey-green pair was the only one really
*looking*. 

 There was nothing that could be done. Too public for any signal to pass.
Miguel was still operating on auto-pilot. He passed without a sign to his
shark, immediately going to his pod. The movement of his body was as
mechanical as the door that let out a whoosh as he entered. The usual
recycled stale toilet smell went unnoticed. After weeks next to a bucket
of his own waste in a forever closed room, this smell was just as
beautiful and fresh as the clothes on his back.

 First things first.

 Miguel gathered up his own stuff, restraining himself from burying in the
pure harsh clean scent, from rubbing the rough thin towel on his face just
because it was plush and wonderful compared to the stone he'd known. 

 Shower. Now. He gathered up soap and shampoo, throwing his shaving kit
onto his burden as well. Everything necessary to bring him back to what
passed for civilization in here. Little habits of hygiene to help bring
him back to human.

 He needed it. Needed to clean off the weeks of grime and insanity with
blessed harsh soap and the burn of nice hot water. He could clean house in
body and mind. It always helped after a long confinement. His steps
carried him to the shower room. Empty bright clean walls. He would have it
all to himself. Good.

 He could finally rest, finally think, there under the spray. Water turned
on without really noticing; the last of his automatic routine, the last of
the actions that just flowed without him having to think about them.

 He could breathe now, head hung under the spray, feeling it pound over
his skull. Everything he hadn't felt while in the hole was starkly clear
now. The dirt that brought a caked itch to his skin, scratchy like the
rough unkempt hair on his face and head. He pulled his head up from under
the beautiful calm sluice of water to work up a hard lather with that
suddenly wonderful cheap soap. He was shedding the month with the slide of
suds over his skin. Layer by layer. Grounding himself in the scent of
clean. Roughly washing it all off. He felt more human already as he rinsed
the second time. His mind coming back to itself with it, as his body was
scraped raw to start fresh. He moved on to his hair with the same thorough
efficiency. Thinking of nothing but getting clean. Of clearing everything
away. When he was clean, he felt so much fucking better. Felt...not lost.
He could *think*. He was *out*. He was safer now. If El Cid was
gone...Miguel was on new steady ground, no longer a pawn with no destiny
other than solitary or death, and that was worth any pain or guilt that
had rushed over his head and dragged him under in the hole. That wasn't
real. This was real. He shifted fast and easy. Like mercury. He'd done it
before. 

 He didn't move from under the spray yet, it felt too good. Refreshing.
Miguel was back out in the world now though, bringing his wariness was
back. His awareness of the world around him. So, he knew the second the
door to the shower room opened and let in someone else. He turned his head
just the slightest to check on it.

 Ryan O'Reily.

 The Irishman with his own towel. Still looking casual, because they could
both see the people beyond those glass walls. Miguel played his part and
turned back to the spray after that needed little glimpse. Dipping his
head back under. He was clean, but he still wasn't ready to leave. He felt
like he could get his head on straight here, under the cleansing flow of
water. 

 He saw his time in the hole as a dark swirl, right over his shoulder, but
locked behind him and growing further with every piece of reality. Some of
the past time was blurry and missing. But he remembered the nightmares.
They were clearing as he regained his footing in reality though. He saw
past the guilt that had plagued him, the worry. The insane paths his mind
had spun off into. He was aware again. It was like the quick shifting
shock of waking from a long, deep sleep that contained dreams you thought
were real while you were experiencing them. They seemed like the truth at
the time, you didn't question anything, even the pink elephants. But as
soon as you opened your eyes -- you saw right through them. Saw them for
what they were. Just the dark, doubting, twisting emotions dwelling inside
being magnified beyond reality.

 Miguel saw the movement out of the corner of his eye, heard another
showerhead come on. He had to look. Had to see. He slid his gaze
to...Ryan. All of him. Naked. One showerhead between them. Careful
customary distance. It was all about appearances. He took in the sight of
Ryan greedily. Another little spot of brightness. 

 Miguel saw his rambling crazy doubts about Ryan that had taken over his
head in the hole for what they were now too. Fear. Just another part of
the dark that had closed in. Here, clean, real, breathing again, and free
of the crush of lonely walls, he knew where he stood.

 Ryan had not sold him out. Most likely. He still knew caution when it
came to the trickster Irishman, but he knew other things now. Things
beside that fear and distrust. He remembered Ryan visiting him. He
remembered the weeks before, shut away in closets. Stealing time. Words.
Skin. Getting...close... in so many strange, unexpected ways.

 He remembered all the reasons why he had begun to trust this man now. And
Ryan was here to remind him even more.

 O'Reily caught his gaze again, and Miguel turned his head to see Ryan
discreetly turning his face towards Miguel.

 Ryan spoke, face turned just so, careful. Looking like business as usual
to anyone who passed the glass walls. "Miguel." He soaked up the sound of
Ryan's deep voice, hadn't heard it in reality for a couple of weeks.
Miguel's hand moved to the tile in front of him, palm slapping against
cold before he was even fully aware of what he was doing. At the sound of
that voice joining the nearness of that body, part of Miguel had
just...reached out. Wanting to feel the solid reality of Ryan. Maybe
partially to test it, make sure. He'd seen the crush of people, heard
them, but no one had touched him yet to bring the reality home. He'd had
no contact with another real body beyond a rough grab of the guard on the
way to Emcity.

 But even running on instinct, Miguel knew enough to realize reaching for
naked Ryan in full view was impossible. Even as a reckless, crazy part of
him wondered what Ryan would do if he had. Miguel braced that hand on the
wall instead. Grounding himself on it. Wet, slick, cold, solid. This was
definitely real, definitely there.

 "Es usted verdadero?" Miguel was aware that he was whispering in Spanish,
and Ryan wouldn't be able to understand him. He was just...remembering --
that first experience of Ryan on the other side of thick steel door, real
and present, trying to pull Miguel back after he had lost himself in the
hole.

 "Miguel?" Ryan's voice repeating itself, newly wrapped tight with worry.
Miguel could see the movement on the edge of his vision cease with it.

 He cleared his throat, needing to show Ryan quickly that he hadn't spun
off again into that insanity. "Yeah, Ryan?" See? Calm, coherent, and
capable of English.

 Miguel removed his hand from tile with the words, not needing it to
ground himself anymore. He had a grip on things. He just wished he could
touch the man next to him, and not because he wanted to see if he was
real.

 "You said that before, what does it mean?" Ryan sounded quietly
sidetracked from whatever he had been going to say. Maybe he just wanted
to make sure Miguel knew what he was saying, make sure he was all there.

 He was.

 "Basically -- are you real?" Miguel explained, hopefully helping put
Ryan's worry to rest. "I was just remembering before. That's what I was
asking you back then, trying to see if you were really there." He was okay
now. Especially with Ryan right there, untouchable, but beside him.
Talking to him again. No longer separated by steel. Not even separated by
clothes, just by water and air, and kept apart by those eyes on the other
side of the glass. This was enough.

 "Oh." Ryan paused, even as he started washing up again, still sounding a
little worried, but much less so. "How do you answer -- 'I'm real'?" Ryan
calm, curious, but sounding like he needed a bit more of that same
reassurance Miguel had needed that they were both all there.

 "Estoy realmente aquí." Miguel said. Not quite the answer to the exact
question Miguel had been asking, but it more directly addressed the main
shade of meaning. Although, Miguel had been asking...a lot of other things
as well with those simple words he'd asked in the hole. Are you here. Are
you real. Are you true.

 Miguel dipped his head as he let that warm water continue to sluice over
him. Nothing left to clean, nothing left to rinse away, it just still felt
fucking nice. Fresh and pure. He turned his face a little to the side,
tasting a few stray rivulets running slowly over his cheek onto his lips.
He did it to catch a glimpse of Ryan.

 Ryan blinked at the words. "Shit...it couldn't be something shorter? Say
it slower." Ryan joked lowly with a small wet shake of his head.

 Miguel grinned softly. "Or 'soy verdadero', that works too." 

 That meant more. The real answer. It worked better, for all those shades
of meaning, really.

 Ryan nodded and grinned a little with that. "Much better." But then he
tilted his head to covertly lock his gaze with Miguel's...and he was dead
serious. "Soy verdadero. I'm real, Miguel." 

 "I know." Miguel said quietly. And he did know. "Why'd you come here so
soon?" Miguel asked, his voice still gruff. Words feeling strange in his
throat. He'd gone so long without talking except to scream only to hear
his own echoes. Conversation was strange. 

 Ryan had sought him out pretty damn fast. Especially considering they
couldn't freely interact fully in the shower. Miguel was fucking glad Ryan
had though. Ryan being here warmed him. Made him feel as good as the clean
fresh water. 

 Ryan looked away before he spoke, focusing on soaping up. But his words
were what mattered -- they were for Miguel, not for the rest of Emcity. "I
wanted to check in with you. See how you're doing."

 The concern thick. The question. That worry.

 Miguel snorted, leaning back, head out from under the spray. Feeling it
on his chest. So good, splattering warmly over his skin. "I just spent a
month with mostly only my own fucking company, locked in the hole with a
bucket of shit. I'm out. That's a good change."

 He just caught Ryan turning his grin at that towards the tiles before
Miguel had to stare straight ahead. It had looked...shaky as Miguel felt. 

 "You know what I meant." Slightly impatient edge with that tight worry,
even as Miguel could hear that relief.

 He was probably just happy that Miguel wasn't speaking in tongues.

 "Are you okay?" Ryan queried again. 

 Miguel could see his movement out of the corner of his eye. Soapy lather
over pale skin. Hand sliding over his lean body, over his stomach.

 Miguel felt a little saner with it. He was resurfacing quick. Everything
from the hole fading away. His demons losing control back in the bright
lights and press of other bodies in proximity, the presence of the world.

 The proximity of the soaped up Irishman next to him helped even more. He
felt even more human with Ryan near. Because he had been as truly human
with Ryan as he could be in here. 

 "I will be." Miguel said, as he decisively shut off the shower.

 He was still carrying the guilt. The reality of his betrayal. But here,
now, he remembered why he'd done it. He knew...it was the right course. He
knew he'd had to take his life back. He had to survive. He would always
feel the sting, always know he'd turned on someone he'd pledged to.
But...he just as surely knew it was the right choice. El Cid had betrayed
Miguel's loyalty first. Miguel had done everything he could do. He'd
stayed true to El Cid to his own detriment. But he was not going to throw
his life and soul away for a man who was out to get him. He would serve
his penance. He would stay true to El Norte, the whole of his ideal, and
the true root of his vows. And that would be enough to get by. Having the
Irish on their side in the tit trade would be good for all of them.

 Miguel went to the little walled barrier, picking up his towel. He made
his way from showers to the other part of the room, toweling dry on the
way. He kept Ryan in sight. And he saw Ryan's gaze dart back to him. Heard
that low private voice that wasn't quite done, had more to give.

 "Good. We'll meet up alone later today. Soon." Ryan said, letting Miguel
hear the need and concern still there. Then his voice went quiet, so that
it was harder to hear him over the rush of the water. "I uh...I'm so
fucking glad you're out."

 Miguel blinked, surprised at the emotion there in the seemingly simple
words. He was wrapping his towel around his now dry waist, and his tug
tightened with the words as he secured the rough fabric.

 He went over to the sink where he'd left his shaving kit on the mirror
ledge. Stroll staying steady even as bright pleasant warmth blossomed in
him at Ryan's honest sentiment. At the surprising truth in that oh so
quiet voice. 

 "Me too. Obviously." Miguel said with a soft smirk, face carefully turned
away from Ryan as he picked up his shaving cream. But he didn't leave it
at that, couldn't, with Ryan being... honest and vulnerable like that.
"I'm glad you came here right away, even if we're in plain sight and can't
discuss or do shit." He said, quietly sincere, with a soft joking tinge of
longing at the lack of opportunity for real contact here and now.
"It...helps. Thanks." Miguel finished, with more serious depth, as he
peeked to the side, and saw...

 Ryan's back to him, to make it look like they weren't associating beyond
normal, leaving Miguel a nice view of that expanse of wet naked skin. Ryan
was finishing washing his back, spreading those slow dripping suds there.
That view caused a hot little charge straight down to his dick, making
Miguel realize how much he missed Ryan as even more than a blessed calm
caring voice pulling him out of his head that short time he had been able
to. That voice that had stayed in his head during the dark, even when the
good memories had been quieter, and battered down by the others a lot of
the time.

 "You're definitely a sight for sore eyes." Miguel said softly, without
thinking about it much, as he watched covertly.

 He missed Ryan's body. And Miguel didn't even stop to ponder anymore when
exactly it was he had started to find a male body so hot. This specific
male body. The one whose form he had learned a little of. Enough to
remember in the hole, even in the dark. The thin lips, the scar under the
chin. The longer, fucked up scar along the ribs that drowned out the tiny
pale one under his nipple. Sinewy limbs. Those hips. Flat soft stomach.
The light dusting of freckles over skin. 

 While carefully keeping his head not fully turned, Miguel pretended to
focus on applying his shaving cream to the rough beard that had been
growing in while he was in the hole. But in reality... Miguel watched as
those hands slid over that body. He fucking missed Ryan's touch. Miguel
knew the slightly calloused, and skilled feel of those hands gliding over
his own skin. He wanted it back so badly. Desire sparking in him at the
display, at the thought.

 Ryan laughed after Miguel's words, soft and husky, but he didn't turn
around. He shifted though, hands going to brace up on the tiles, leaning
forward to dip his head under the spray, to let it rain down his back,
like he was just rinsing and reveling in the water. But Miguel knew it was
for him. The stretch of muscles, the water playing over that long lean
back, watching that stark black small Celtic cross tattoo move with the
roll of Ryan's shoulders. Exposed and wet. Rivulets trailing speedily over
all of that smooth skin. 

 Fuuck. Surprisingly beautiful to his eyes, and painfully missed.

 "Tiburón..." Miguel warned lowly. Now was not the time to get hard.
Miguel had been alone, without that warm sprawling body, for what seemed
like a very long time.

 This was more than he had ever really seen of Ryan during their times
locked in closets together, actually. They had never managed to get
completely out of their clothes. Always too fast, too desperate, too
little time to think of doing more than shedding shirts, grasping for
zippers and yanking pants to expose just enough. And Ryan had never turned
his naked back toward Miguel before. Too vulnerable, too much of the wrong
idea probably. Or maybe it was just inconvenient, hard to touch and kiss
someone with your back turned to him. 

 Miguel was suddenly reminded that he had permission to touch every part
of Ryan...except for that pale wet backside in his view now. But staring
at all of Ryan's body exposed was another pleasure entirely. One he was
apparently allowed. Miguel remembered that he had been the one to draw
that line. Threatening to castrate the man if he got near his ass did the
trick. He'd meant it at the time. Because Miguel had been cornered,
endangered, and lost -- but he would never let himself be made a bitch.
Ryan had felt the same, automatically agreeing. Miguel hadn't thought
about it much since... he couldn't remember the last time he had,
actually. He'd had enough shit to deal with. It's not like Ryan had given
any indication he wanted to bring it up either. Didn't matter at the
moment. He just wanted to touch Ryan. Didn't care how. He needed to be
close, and that would be enough.

 And it wasn't until now, after the long lost absence, that he realized --
there was so much skin, so many tucked away spots, that he had yet to
explore. Places that still fit within what he was allowed to have, too.
That strongly lanky male form that moved so comfortably, Ryan at home in
his skin -- nice arms, long graceful torso, lean firm thighs and calves.
That sensitive dip behind the knee, the soft hot skin in the crook of
Ryan's elbow. So much that Miguel had yet to feel under his palm, so many
places left to touch. Kiss. Lick, and bite, to provoke gasps out of Ryan.
Miguel would have to remedy that as soon as possible. He realized now how
much he wanted to, realizing just how much he had been missing.

 Ryan laughed again, still too pleased and full of his own need to be
anywhere near mocking Miguel. Just joining him in that hunger. His body
didn't betray the shake of it. So very careful. "I know, gato. Don't
worry. I'm done." He quickly straightened up with one last shake of his
wet hair, and slammed off the shower. 

 Miguel slid his gaze back to focus solely on the mirror as Ryan went to
get his towel to dry off. Miguel started to take off the last physical
layer of his confinement. Focused on keeping his hand steady as he drew
the safety razor over his cheek. He could hear the scrape of blade through
hair, smell the scent of the shaving cream under his nose, feel the tickle
of foam. The strips he shaved off felt good, leaving skin bare, and
exposed to air again. Another piece of stark freshness. 

 Miguel kept half his attention between strokes of the razor on the
mirror. The reflection of Ryan. Ryan was getting ready to leave,
apparently having made sure Miguel was coherent and alive. 

 There was something Miguel needed to know first.

 But Ryan looked down, turned away from the glass walls, to speak lowly
again before Miguel had time to ask. "You up for a quick progress report?"

 Seems like Ryan might know what he wanted without him asking then.
"Yeah." Miguel swallowed hard, hoping it was good news. Almost fucking
nicked himself with the rough bob of his Adam's apple.

 Ryan's voice was more intense, still directed partially to the ground as
he tied off his towel firmly. "No worries. We're good. Ding-dong the bitch
is dead."

 In the reflection, Miguel could see a slice of Ryan's dark smile at the
words. Not even a hint of conscience or regret in the Irishman's voice,
nothing but that black joy at a plan played out perfectly.

 It sent a chill down Miguel's spine...but he felt it too. That bit of
darkness living inside of his heart. Ryan was just displaying it proudly.
Honestly. Miguel couldn't deny his own satisfaction and relief at that
fear being dead and gone. Not with it mirrored back at him by Ryan. Even
as a tiny part of Miguel recoiled at feeling that way. 

 And with that, Ryan left.

 Miguel returned to his pod when he'd finished shaving. Once he was back
dressed in his own clean clothes he felt his grip on reality grow even
more steady. He was back. Still not free, but that was a given. This was
as good as it got. Wider space, activities, interaction, and a view. That
was one thing about the hole, it made Miguel grateful for even the
fishbowl he usually felt trapped in. 

 He stayed in his pod, casually hanging out in a chair, legs kicked out
with his feet propped up against the glass wall. He wasn't ready to head
back out into the chaos yet, not when he could just kick back and see it
from here and steady himself. He wasn't ready to be among all those
people. It was funny, he had craved human contact the whole time he had
been in the hole, but now that he was out -- it was too much. Overload
after deprivation. He needed to just be with his own head, where he could
watch those movements casually, not having to take part. Mingling would
bring more stress. It would require him to act, to wear a mask, to follow
the rules of interaction they lived by in here, and he wasn't quite ready
for that yet. Not when he could just look stone faced and sit and observe.
He took the precious time to adjust. 

 Miguel saw Ryan there, also observing. Sitting back at his table with one
of his Irish boys and Cyril. Ryan's version of casually hanging out. It
looked like he was just passing time like everyone else, it looked like he
was talking with his boy, and half paging through a magazine -- but Miguel
knew that gaze was watching, and that mind was cataloguing. Always
working.

 The Irishman was also always in view of Miguel, even keeping in range
when he went to watch television with Cyril in tow. That was probably on
purpose too. Of course, Miguel didn't know if it was because of that
strange sense he was getting that Ryan really had missed him, or if his
shark just wanted to make sure Miguel still had his grip on sanity and was
keeping tabs on him for more practical reasons.

 Miguel didn't care much either way. He found he liked having Ryan in his
view. He knew his own reasoning, simple. He had missed Ryan. He didn't
bother thinking of why, or what it meant. That didn't really matter. What
mattered was that Ryan's presence soothed him. Ryan had been his only
light in the hole, and was a welcome sight he longed for out of it. 

 It was all Miguel could do to hold back the still dying chaos in his
head, there would be time for shit other than maintaining later. He
just...watched. Relearning the rhythm and moves of the other men in
Emcity. He knew he'd need it. But when he got tired, and the tension of
watching the new invisible currents between the homeboys and the Italians
started to bring an ache to his head, his gaze slid back to Ryan's, and
the pressure lightened a little. Ryan wasn't being obvious about watching
him, but he was definitely keeping a bead on Miguel. He caught glimpses of
it, every once in a while when his gaze would slide over Ryan, it would
meet Ryan's on him. Ryan checking in with him, just like he was with the
Irishman. It helped Miguel stay...steady.

 He only had a little time before his rest ended, felt like less than an
hour, but it was hard to tell when he hadn't quite gotten used to tracking
the passage of time again. But he knew it wasn't long before he had to
move back into the tide himself. Miguel finally spotted a face he knew as
one of his own, most of them were at work duty. But Vasquez came into
view, and immediately sought Miguel out there, starting towards his pod.

 Miguel took a breath to prepare. His mind starting to speed up with the
wondering. What would his reception be like? What would the new world
order be for El Norte? Where had the pieces fallen and how would he
navigate them? How the fuck would he hold in what he had done? Miguel
tensed inwardly, trying to keep a reign on his pulse, his mind, before
they spun back off. Time to rejoin his life for real. Miguel stayed still
propped there casually in his chair, looking much looser than he felt. He
kept his eyes locked on Vasquez, kept his posture relaxed, but his face
one of tough anticipation. He was careful to look like he had been waiting
to see Vasquez, or someone else from El Norte. Vasquez looked welcoming at
least. Seems the plan had worked enough that Miguel was accepted still
after El Cid's death.

 Time to go back into the fray. Another quick shift that Miguel had to
adjust to, had to hold it together for. Back to the external chaos.

 Miguel dropped his legs down with a nice grounding thud to the floor,
standing up as Vasquez got to his pod. Miguel swung the door open,
gesturing him in before he even had to ask. 

 Vasquez was a man of few words. Miguel figured it was because when the
man strung them together he sounded like a fucking moron, and it took too
much effort. He was muscle, and he followed Guerra like a sheep, but he
was okay. As long as Miguel was on El Norte's good side that day. 

 Which...apparently, he was. Vasquez immediately threw an arm around him
in the customary rough half-embrace, clasping a hand with Miguel between
their bodies as they gave each other a pound on the back. 

 "Welcome back, hermano." Vasquez said firmly as they pulled back from
each other, and it sounded like he meant it. "Things are fucked."

 That's one of the things Miguel liked about Vasquez. He got to the point.
The door had swung closed behind him, but they moved the few steps further
into the pod, backs to the glass walls. The best privacy for a conference
they could manage. 

 "No shit? I just got the fuck out and I'm hearing El Cid got airholed?"
Miguel played clueless. Worried. Angry. He didn't have to fake the stress
and tension at least. He let a little of his violent frantic energy from
the hole leak into his words. It wasn't hard. "Fill me in." Miguel stated
quickly, dark and braced for it.

 Miguel leaned against the frame of the bed, left arm slung up and spread
across the top bunk as Vasquez took up a post against the wall in front of
him, watching Miguel and the world outside the pod, as he spilled the
story. 

 "Ricardo got sent to the hole, El Cid got himself airholed by the wops.
He fucking attacked them in the gym. He was apeshit, according to Guerra."
Vasquez's voice low and intense.

 Shit. It had worked perfectly then.

 "Guerra was there? He okay?" 

 "Yeah. He got pounded a little by the wops, but he got nicked by El Cid's
shank when the boss just flew off the fucking handle. They kept Chico in
the hospital ward for a week and a half because of the lockdown. Ricardo's
getting out of the hole in a coupla days. Emcity lockdown ended today and
we're thin, man." 

 "Fuck." Miguel rubbed a hand over his face as his other clenched on the
sheets. This was...not good. It was a delicate time. He and Ryan had known
that going in. These first few days, before Miguel hopefully took the helm
and El Norte met to patch shit up with the wops or ally with the homeboys,
it was fucking dangerous to be wearing their skin. If they weren't fucking
careful...Miguel could end up a casualty in the still unsettled war.
Miguel hadn't wanted to think of that. Ryan had. He'd talked worriedly
about it after they'd decided to get him popped for tits, in the rushed
last minute meets right before Miguel went in the hole. Ryan seemed to
think that if war drug on, Miguel could play up his previous distance and
stay the fuck out of it somewhat. Maybe get an easy injury and hide out in
the hospital. Miguel knew he couldn't do that. It was in or out with El
Norte, and if things went sour and he stayed on the sidelines, they'd
leave his ass there. Miguel couldn't do that anyway. Not after starting
it. He was stuck. It was his mess to deal with. He hadn't told Ryan that
though. The Irishman's loyalties were too flexible for him to have
understood or accepted it.

 "Well, I'm fucking here now, hermano. I've got your backs." Miguel locked
eyes with Vasquez when he said it, burying his guilt, his hand in this. If
they did this right, El Cid would be the only real casualty. And Vasquez
seemed to believe him, just looking like he had naturally expected that
and was pleased to have Miguel back. "What about the wops, they making a
move?"

 Vasquez shook his head in the firm negative, and Miguel's hope grew a
little. 

 "They've stayed close together, but they haven't made a move or even
looked at us too funny." Vasquez said. "None of their guys got hurt beyond
a bruise or two."

 "I'll keep my eyes and ears open, listen around and find out what's up."
Miguel said with his own decisive nod. "We'll meet once Guerra's shift
ends. Who's in charge?"

 The important question.

 Vasquez shrugged, a tense, worried shift of slumped shoulders. "Fuck if I
know. We've been locked down."

 They both knew that no way in hell was it going to be Vasquez. The other
man seemed to like not being leader anyway, and he seemed to be looking to
Miguel for a clue or direction.

 "Well, act like we fucking know, okay? We can't be weak right now."
Miguel said firmly. "We'll split up for now to ferret shit out, but we're
together when Guerra gets back. Be careful, and don't provoke the wops
until we figure out what's what."

 Another firm nod from the big laconic man, before he went to leave.
Miguel got a solid, reassuring, unifying punch to his shoulder from him,
and returned it.

 "Stay safe." Vasquez said as he headed out to a table.

 "Usted también." 

 After Vasquez left, Miguel kept his back to him and all of Emcity for a
precious second, letting out his breath in a long exhale. Fuck. He pulled
it together and turned around with his face resolved...

 ...and saw Ryan discretely keeping an eye on him, still.

 Miguel needed to get with him as soon as possible. Ryan would know what
the fuck was up in more detail, and he'd be able to fill Miguel in enough
that his information gathering duties would be taken care of for his El
Norte meet later. And they'd be able to figure out their own moves...and
properly welcome each other back.

 Miguel needed the latter the most. He needed to be somewhere quiet.
Somewhere close. To get away from it all before it pulled him under. To
catch his breath. 

 With his shark.

 ~ Chapter 13: Reveling ~

 After talking with Vasquez, Miguel made it through the short time until
he could be alone with Ryan. They made sure they met up before Guerra got
back and Miguel had to fucking deal with him. Miguel's wear started to
show once the guard "lost track" of him, and he made his way down the dim
hall by himself. He finally felt the cracks he'd been ignoring just to
hold it together, as he made his way to the nearest storage room between
Emcity and the gym, alone with just the stone corridors. He needed to get
away from the press of people. From the lies he would have to spill right
to his amigo's faces. From the delicate clean up of their plan. 

 He could do it. He just needed this break. Needed to breathe. He really
fucking needed to see Ryan somewhere he could touch him.

 Miguel's thoughts and nightmares in the hole had been force fed by bleak
circumstance. That was not reality. He knew that now. He could feel it as
soon as his world expanded back beyond those four walls and his skull. The
dark had taken over, circled in on itself, and taken his mind over because
of the lack of anything else. 

 He was back now. And he could breathe. See. Think. Remember everything
that had been lost to the crushing despair of the hole. He was still
shaky, and strained. Off kilter. But he was here. He could hold it
together enough.

 They had arranged to be lost together for a little over an hour, longer
than usual, but Miguel needed it. Ryan had actually set the time, without
Miguel even having let him know he needed to get the fuck away for longer.
Ryan must've needed it too. Either that, or they had a lot to discuss.
Miguel didn't think so though. They'd been over what needed to happen
directly after El Cid's death pretty well before Miguel's trip to the
hole, and now so soon after lockdown, nobody was organized enough to stir
up trouble or make moves yet. Everyone was just gathering info, spreading
gossip, breathing the fresh air. As far as swinging the extra time
together, as long as it wasn't near count, or a shift change, it could be
done. You just slipped past the blind eye of a bribed hack, or signed up
to be somewhere like the gym or the library, and greased the wheels to
make sure no one actually cared to check if you showed up there and
stayed.

 Miguel checked the hall one last time before he slid into the storage
room, careful to close the door behind him. Ryan was already there. Alone.
Waiting.

 "Jesus, I fucking missed you." Ryan's immediate words as he crossed the
small distance between them.

 Whoa.

 Miguel was taken off guard at that firm honesty. He had been surprised
enough by the little glimpse of Ryan's pleasure at his return earlier in
shower. But this was plain, bare, and right there in the open. Miguel
could hear the raw truth in Ryan's voice, see the fevered sincerity in
those eyes...

 Ryan immediately caught him up in a strong embrace. Even in his slight
shock, Miguel automatically returned it. Ryan enfolded Miguel up in it.
And it had nothing to do with sex. This was...reassurance. Heat, and
comfort taking precedence over their schemes. Only instinct and need. He
wrapped his arms around that long, lanky, body in turn. Tight. Steady.
Pressed close and body to body.

 "Missed you too, Ryan." Miguel exhaled softly. He used Ryan's name,
because he knew it meant more than a nickname to the man. "You're real."
The words slipped out softly. Ryan really was there. Finally. Solid.
Wrapped around him.

 "I'm real. Soy verdadero." Strong reassurance, carrying weight that
Miguel couldn't quite decipher beyond the fact that it made him feel good.

 Then...it became a little about the sex, Miguel mused, as they met in a
kiss that was just as strong and grabbing. Desperate searching taste of
that solace he had missed. That other heat. And Ryan was right there to
meet him, giving in, taking, just as passionate. Arms still wrapped around
him, one hand clutching the back of Miguel's head. Like he needed to touch
everywhere, needed to be closer, like he could pull Miguel inside of him.
Miguel felt the same, arms staying locked around that body, pulling him
tighter. Those thin but perfect lips against his, deft tongue stroking
into his mouth. Needy. He missed this too. That heat spreading deep under
his skin with the buzz stoked by that fervent willing mouth sharing his.

 The kiss ended after they had felt that raw need in each other, found
that little peaceful burn again after so long, but the embrace continued.
The comfort stayed right there where he found he needed it. It was clear
that Ryan needed it just as much, which made Miguel feel even less alone.

 "I uh...I didn't do too well after you stopped coming by." Miguel
admitted gruffly into the nearness of Ryan's ear.

 Those strong arms felt like a steadying anchor around him. Keeping him
from drifting, wrapping him up in it. He let himself feel...something so
good...after the long dark.

 Ryan's face was buried in the crook of Miguel's neck, inhaling his scent.
Miguel felt it, the tickle of breath over his skin from the deep
inhalation. Like Ryan was reveling in Miguel being there and real, needing
to feel it as much as Miguel did. The odd, warmly clinging action from
Ryan made Miguel convulsively grip his solid body with almost bruising
strength, tightening to a squeeze in thoughtless shock. He couldn't help
it. The surprisingly intimate gesture communicated volumes about how much
Ryan had missed *him*, and it had made Miguel instinctually need more
closeness. Ryan didn't flinch away from the force of Miguel's uncontrolled
clutch, even though it must have hurt. Miguel quickly eased up, back to
that comfortable embrace, as soon as he caught himself.

 "Lockdown. I'm sorry." Muttered against Miguel's throat, dropped there
with a kiss that was shiver soft but adamantly wet. "I wanted to be
there."

 Fuck. Miguel felt a little dizzy flutter with all of it. He wasn't used
to... whatever this was. He didn't know what it meant. Even as he had been
yearning for Ryan, he hadn't expected to be met with *this* much... the
same intensity that he had felt, possibly even more, right out there in
the open. It felt so fucking wonderful after the long trip to hell that he
couldn't bring himself to examine it. What it meant didn't matter right
now, just how it felt.

 "El Cid is dead." Ryan pulled back enough to lock eyes with Miguel, as he
imparted the slowly even words. Those arms and the embrace of that body
didn't leave him though. It sounded like Ryan was trying to reassure him,
like he was telling it for the first time. It sounded more like concern
for Miguel than talk of their plans.

 "I know. You told me that already." Miguel pointed out. Even with all the
shit attached to El Cid's arranged death and how it had grinded him up in
the hole, he still felt like a weight had lifted. Worth the guilt. He
couldn't help the dark joy. The relief. 

 "Just making sure it got through." Ryan smirked, his hand cupping the
back of Miguel's head again, like the Irishman couldn't stop touching him.
Miguel didn't mind. He enjoyed the pleasant stroke of Ryan's fingers over
his hair. 

 "It did." Miguel stated. He wanted to get away from that dark. Just be
here with the man he had been missing, and not have to think about any of
it. He'd had enough bad...he wanted to touch the good thing he'd somehow
found. Stroke it. Make it respond, and come fully into this joy in his
arms. 

 This connection. Ryan. Who was also thinking beyond business, it seemed.
Putting *this* first, the two of them reconnecting.

 Miguel caught Ryan up in another kiss. Grasping and deep, it signaled an
end to the El Cid conversation. Knocking all of that right out of both of
their minds, as Ryan groaned happily and just...clung to him, clutching.
Purpose growing with very nip of those lips, every perfect stroke of that
tongue meeting with his. That comforting embrace changed into pure heat --
hard bodies pressing, riding each other's gasping breaths as Miguel's dick
started to stiffen pleasurably in his pants, spurred on by the feel of
Ryan's hardness coming to life more insistently against his hip.

 "What do you want, Ryan?" Miguel husked out, rough seduction full force
in his voice. He liked the way it lit up Ryan's eyes, the way it made him
shiver. Miguel had missed him, missed how good it felt to be here with
this.

 "You." Ryan was close enough that his flushed face and intense hooded
eyes took up Miguel's whole view; close enough that he felt the breath
driving the word against his skin as it left Ryan's mouth.

 Miguel just smirked, brushing Ryan's mouth with it, parting lips to tease
by speaking instead of slipping back into the kiss. "I know that. " Miguel
bumped his hips into Ryan's, a hot confined brush of hardness against
hardness to illustrate. "What do you want? Hmm? What you been missing?"

 That he was asking purely about sexual aspects was clear in his voice.
Teasing, talking, stoking Ryan's passion with his words, because it was
sweeter that way.

 Ryan reached up at that, fingers slowly gliding over Miguel's arm, before
cupping his jaw. Those eyes on his stripping him bare with more than
enough heat to keep him warm, as Ryan's thumb tugged lightly at his bottom
lip. "Your mouth..." Soft exhale against Miguel's lips. 

 An answer.

 Miguel swallowed up Ryan's breath, signaling his agreement to it, kissing
him fiercely.

 His mouth. Miguel could do that. Was more willing to than he'd ever
thought he'd be. He could smell Ryan. His scent, clean and sharp. Miguel
was getting teasing tastes of that skin, mouth slipping to graze Ryan's
jaw. It wasn't enough.

 He wanted more. To feel everything, alive and real. To really taste Ryan.
Even that hardness digging happily against his own.

 Miguel pulled back. Ryan's mouth chased him eagerly for a second, making
Miguel grin at his shark's relentless hunger for him. Miguel held him back
with hands firmly on his shoulders, one curling up to brush Ryan's neck,
just to see Ryan turn towards the touch.

 "Strip." It came out rough, almost like a demand, but it was just shaking
raw need. Miguel wanted that view back. But he could still ask nicely.
"Please. I want to see all of you." He wanted it too much to even try to
hide the desire in his voice. Ryan seemed to like it.

 Ryan slowly stripped his shirt off, eyes on Miguel when the fabric being
removed didn't obscure them. "You too." Ryan's voice was a low and sultry
challenge, issued with a little cock of his head after he tossed the shirt
aside.

 "You want me to strip bare, baby? You want to see me?" Miguel ran his
hand over his stomach, over his shirt, resting it there, fingers stroking
in a tease.

 "Yes." Intense short answer, as Ryan's eyes held a fire that raced over
Miguel's skin. That hunger in his gaze was almost a tangible thing
reaching out to Miguel's body. 

 Ryan's hands hovered over his fly in his own tease. Signaling that he
wasn't going to shed his pants until Miguel started stripping too. Ryan
had definitely been missing seeing Miguel as much as Miguel had been
missing him. Seemed like Ryan wanted to see all of him as well, wanted the
same full access and contact.

 It just turned Miguel on more. His shark missing his body this much,
wanting more of it. Miguel stripped off his shirt slowly, tossing it
aside. His gaze stayed on Ryan as they both kept going. Quick reveal of
skin, freeing of bodies. They stripped down completely, even toeing off
shoes, tossing off socks. Ryan even slipped off that big black
leather-banded watch that he'd taken to wearing after they took up
together, and tucked it in his abandoned pants pocket. 

 Miguel stared, taking Ryan in as the Irishman stood up straight and
stalked over the short distance separating them, those narrowed desire
filled grey-green eyes focused on him. He loved to watch Ryan move, so
strongly graceful and open with that body. Seeing him like this, totally
stripped down, every inch of skin and stretch of muscle visible, was
fucking beautiful. Hot. Miguel pulled him close as soon as he got in
range.

 Touching bare skin. All of Ryan. Finally. He couldn't stop the clutch of
his hands on Ryan's arms. He was here. Real, touchable, and alone. Ryan
didn't discourage him, kissing deep and gracing Miguel's body with his own
eager touch of exploration. They were both very much aware that this was
the first time they'd actually been completely naked around each other
while alone. And they were taking in every bit of that they could after
the shower tease of earlier. Feeling each other's bodies naked and pressed
close, connected in the hot press and brush of skin to skin everywhere.
Something lovers got to experience. Something taken for granted on the
outside, less available here due to constraints, usually less wanted due
to the forced partnerships. They were different. And they were finally
taking full advantage of it. Taking the time they had stolen for all it
was worth. This wasn't that alliance of minds and strength right now. It
wasn't even just plain desperation to get fucking laid. This was
about...them. Unexpectedly found and embraced.

 Miguel pulled back, a little breathless. He had other things he wanted.
He quickly consolidated the strewn state of their clothes, bending over to
lay them out on the floor, covering it in a vague blanket shape. Miguel
felt Ryan watching him the whole time.

 He finished fast, standing back up to meet a slightly questioning look.
Instead of explaining, Miguel pressed back full body to Ryan for a kiss.
Naked skin to skin again. 

 "Lie down." Miguel requested gently. Reveling in feeling Ryan everywhere,
like he hadn't been able to earlier in the shower. He wasn't wet now, but
it was just as good. Dry, warm, and responsive, pressing right back...
until Miguel's words made Ryan tense a little, pull back a bit to stare at
him, that question clear and not giving up now with the sudden slight
tightness of those muscles. Miguel realized he might be just about to lose
him. He could quickly figure out what Ryan might think he was asking --
for that one thing they'd clearly marked as off-limits back in the
beginning. The ass Miguel had stared at in the shower. Ryan had agreed
with Miguel's shank threatening sentiment back then...maybe still did,
judging by the sudden tension in his body.

 Miguel...didn't know how he fucking felt about it anymore. Confronted
with the idea here, not planning to be, he couldn't draw an immediate
conclusion. Not even the old automatic one of "Hell no". He knew that this
relationship they were forging now had nothing to do with bitches and
controlling one another. And he knew he wouldn't even think of searching
for a shank or of causing Ryan pain just for bringing it up. Beyond
that...he knew nothing else for sure about it here and now, even when it
came to his own feelings. He'd just...accepted things this way, and hadn't
looked back. Now definitely wasn't the time to re-examine though, with
Ryan right there, acting a little worried and surprised. Which Miguel
would be, too, if the places were switched and it had been Ryan making it
mistakenly look like he wanted to fuck suddenly. 

 His brain was messed up enough right now, and he just wanted...quiet. He
didn't want to think about that, definitely hadn't meant to bring it up.
He wanted something he knew for sure. Something with no fear or worry
attached. The familiar comfort and heat they brought each other. He wanted
touch he knew for certain Ryan was more than happy to give. He wanted to
calm Ryan's reaction and just enjoy himself. 

 He had one last thought before he filed all those confusing thoughts
away. He vaguely wondered whether Ryan's mistaken tension was partially
concern about that act making him a fag. While Miguel respected that
boundary without question like Ryan did in turn for him, and he really
didn't want to discuss breaking that old deal now, Miguel really hoped
that wasn't Ryan's reason. Because Ryan should've been smarter than that.
They'd passed the fag line long ago, and he'd be a fucking moron to think
otherwise. Too much cocksucking and caring to pretend they were
one-hundred percent straight. 

 Miguel put it out of his mind. He didn't want to freak Ryan, or himself,
the fuck out, especially not right now, and his plan hadn't included
dealing with dicks in asses, anyway. Ryan's possible assumption had thrown
Miguel just as much, so he went for truthful reassurance. Miguel's own
slightly shocked pause probably helped show Ryan that it had been the
furthest thing from his mind.

 "Calm down, I'm just tired of touching you while standing up all the
time." Miguel explained truthfully, hand stroking over Ryan's arm. "I miss
being horizontal."

 Ryan relaxed completely, wicked grin back. "Me too. Good idea." 

 Ryan easily lowered himself to the floor, lying out on the clothes.
Proudly. That body spread and comfortable under Miguel's gaze. 

 When Miguel stared a moment too long, Ryan lightly kicked out at his
ankle. "Not that I'm not appreciating the view, but get down here." 

 Miguel followed with a grin, going to his knees at the end of Ryan's long
body. Used to the hard floor, Miguel barely even noticed it. Ryan sat up
as Miguel got close, reaching out to pull him to his mouth. Wrapped
together again, Miguel up on his knees with Ryan easily spreading those
long legs around him, encircling him. Good place to be trapped. He felt
the light graze of Ryan's dick, the dull scratch of his fingers over
Miguel's back, as he stayed upright and got lost in that mouth. He'd
missed it too much. Something as simple as kissing. The needy joyful way
Ryan met his mouth. His taste. Now with the extra-added heat of all that
skin under his hands, against him.

 He led Ryan back, urging him to lie back down. Ryan obliged, hands
trailing over Miguel as they parted. Miguel remembered...something he
really hadn't wanted to think about. Condom. He had thought of it earlier,
while still in the hole, actually. It had been another dark scratch to his
brain, and as much as he tried, he couldn't pretend it didn't bother him,
even out here and regaining hold of his sanity. No matter what his rep for
being straight, Ryan was not a chaste guy. Not in Miguel's experience. In
the short weeks they'd been together before the lockdown, Ryan had been
ready, willing, and meeting Miguel's ache whenever he was around. They'd
messed around at least every other day, always fitting it into the
discussions of business. And when they'd had to go longer than that
without finding this with each other, Ryan had practically pounced on him
with need. Not that Miguel hadn't felt the same. He liked that about Ryan,
had met it eagerly. But with Miguel gone, the Latino couldn't kid himself
...tiburón's dick had probably led him to seek relief elsewhere. 

 Miguel's attention slid off of Ryan's naked body onto the clothes he was
lying on. Shit. Should've remembered to get that out *before* they'd
stripped. Miguel thought he spotted his pants under Ryan's ass, and went
to tug on them. Miguel stayed sitting up on his knees, digging around,
trying to find the pocket without yanking them out from under Ryan.

 "Uh...I know you've been away for a while, Miguel, and you may have
forgotten some shit, but it's much more fun if you grope me, and not the
clothes." 

 Miguel rolled his eyes. "Looking for something..." Miguel mumbled as
he...yep. Got it. He pulled out the condom he'd swiped and held it up for
Ryan to see.

 Miguel may have gone fucking crazy in the hole, and he may be feeling
something strange, warm, and unknowably dangerous for Ryan, but he wasn't
completely fucked up in the head. And he wasn't so far gone that he hadn't
realized the real, albeit slight risks. He had planned ahead, which was
good, because if he had had to stop and think of it now, he would've been
way too fucking distracted by his need to make Ryan's pulse race.

 Ryan blinked at him, heavy breaths suddenly turning into confused words.
"What the...why do you have that?"

 "Don't worry, it's for you. For my mouth." Miguel clarified quickly
before Ryan got the wrong ideas again about where their dicks were going.
"Safety, remember? Too much bad shit gets passed around in here." 

 Ryan just continued to pant softly, drawing up on his elbows now. So that
Ryan could properly give him that look like he was worried Miguel had lost
his damn mind, apparently. "Yeah, but we've been over this...remember?
Don't need the rubbers. Don't like them." Ryan said with strain and a
serious gaze.

 Miguel had managed to make the honey-tongued Irishman *almost*
monosyllabic. Huh. Fucking amazing. And fun.

 "Yeah, well, that's for when we've only been sticking our dicks in each
other." This really wasn't a conversation he wanted to have. Even if part
of him wanted to know what Ryan had been up to. Maybe that was part of the
reason he'd brought the protection instead of just giving in to the small
risk. To find out.

 Ryan pushed up more, sitting up slightly straighter. "Huh?"

 Miguel snickered, petting the slightly damp skin of Ryan's hip, slipping
up to feel the sped up breath fluttering under his ribs. 

 But Ryan's distress was taking over his passion. That wasn't the plan.
Fuck.

 "You just got out of the hole. You can't catch shit from fucking
hallucinations, gato." Ryan said. His voice was questioning with a barely
controlled shake of hurt to it. 

 What the -- was Ryan worried and jealous? Why did that make Miguel feel
very fucking good?

 "Nope. I'm clean. I ain't touching anybody in this shithole, you know
that." Miguel shook it off to force a chuckle. He tried to play down the
admission that he had no interest in touching any body other than the one
laid out in offering before him. He still couldn't quite ignore the itch
of jealousy under his own skin at the thoughts of what Ryan may have been
up to while he was away. 

 Miguel wondered who it might've been. Ryan had never given up any names
of previous encounters, so Miguel couldn't predict who else he might have
found. Maybe that eager new Irish guy Miguel saw flushing red around Ryan.
"But you weren't in the fucking hole, and you weren't in fucking lockdown
the *whole* time either." Miguel explained, carefully keeping his tone
much milder than he felt, because it wasn't really his place to get pissed
off about it.

 "That's it?" Ryan lost that tension and broke into a little grin. "Toss
it," he declared easily, falling back into a more comfortable position.
"I'm as pure and untouched as the driven snow." Ryan's voice had a
sarcastic lilt, before he dropped it for a tinge of seriousness. "I told
you, Miguel. I'm only touching you."

 Oh. Good. Miguel didn't bother ignoring the proud burn that sent through
him, the possessiveness, and the joy that they were on the same page and
that Ryan sounded very final about that.

 "Okay." Miguel said as he happily tucked the unopened condom back into
his pants pocket on the floor. Well...it was *a* pocket, it may have been
Ryan's pants actually. Miguel wasn't really paying attention to that. "But
you ain't ever going to be pure, baby." Miguel said with a slick grin. His
voice slowly slipped even lower with desire as he focused back on all that
flesh, that long, flushed erection waiting.

 "Mmm...true. Dirty me up some more then." Ryan seduced in that deeper,
anticipatory voice of his, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

 Fucking hot. 

 "Not a problem." Miguel husked out, looking over Ryan. 

 Where to start...

 He was driven to do what he had wanted to earlier, what he felt like he
needed to now. Learn Ryan's body even more. Take advantage of the total
nudity, to touch all the innocent looking places that could be anything
but innocent if you did it right.

 Miguel was already kneeling at the end of Ryan's body, so he started
there. He'd work his way up...then back down...and end up in the middle. 

 Miguel drew his fingers lightly up the arch of Ryan's foot. Feeling the
smooth little curve of his instep. Careful not to tickle and ending with
the lightest dig of blunt nails, before he ran the pad of his thumb over
the little bump of bone on the inside of Ryan's ankle. There was the
softest, smoothest little dip of skin there too, and he stroked over it
with his thumb before his fingers slid up Ryan's leg, feeling the fuzz of
hair. 

 Ryan's breath hitched a little, and he just stared down at Miguel.
Watching. "Whatcha doing?" He didn't sound displeased.

 "El explorar..." Miguel said lowly, before he bent to lay a soft kiss on
the inside of Ryan's ankle. Staying for a moment too long, just enough to
part his lips around that little knot of bone under the skin, letting a
little tease of his tongue dart down to the soft skin below it.

 Miguel wasn't sure if Ryan understood his words or not, but Ryan suddenly
swallowed his own words and just stayed...breathing heavy, moving into his
touch, as Miguel's hands continued their exploration in a nice slide up
those lanky firm legs. Miguel didn't mind the hair anymore. 

 Of course, it being Ryan, he only stayed quiet for a second. "Is that
Spanish for foot fetish?" Teasing question, but it was gratifyingly
breathless and almost laughing. So much lighter, warmer, than Miguel was
used to hearing in here.

 Miguel rolled his eyes, but with his own little smirk because...fuck, it
was another reminder of why he had really missed Ryan, for much more than
just that eager body. 

 He'd already moved on from feet anyway, to graze over the soft spot
behind Ryan's knee. Still just firm enough not to tickle the sensitive
spot, but to feel good and make Ryan's gaze turn even more intense.
Instead of dignifying the lame, inaccurate taunt with an answer, Miguel
dipped his head again on his slow journey up Ryan's body, to replace the
touch of his fingers with a sudden firm lick along that curve behind the
knee. Slight sharply pleasant taste of salt there in the bending crevice
of Ryan's body. Ryan signaled his approval and repentance for the remark
with the softest, hot little noise. Miguel stayed there a long moment to
continue to nip that hot damp skin.

 He moved along slowly, running his hands up taut thighs, fingers spread,
soft sprinkled hair tickling his palms. He was leaning over Ryan close
enough to smell the lingering soap scent. Fresh, clean, and under his
hands. Against his lips as he brushed them over Ryan's inner thigh. Miguel
focused on the pure feel of flesh. The subtle taste of every stretch of
this skin. The sound of Ryan's breath driven husky and hard by him. For
him. Miguel was learning it all. Savoring it -- like that hot steady touch
of Ryan's hands moving over his own upper body, feeding that heat wherever
Ryan could manage to reach his skin.

 Miguel's touch moved ever upwards, finally coming near Ryan's real
straining need, tracing fingertips delicately over the soft skin of balls
even as his mouth stayed away from that cock, standing upright and
glistening. Miguel licked the little creased line of muscle and soft, damp
skin joining hip and leg. Tracing over Ryan's pelvis...skirting the center
with mouth and hands as his touch slid to feel the flutter of Ryan's
stomach caused by his heavy breathing, instead of continuing where his
hands had been heading.

 The desperate, slightly protesting, hurt noise that escaped Ryan as
Miguel skipped right over his dick was priceless. Miguel just grinned and
dropped a wet kiss to Ryan's side. Before he carefully dipped his head,
narrowly avoiding contact with Ryan's erection, to flick his tongue in the
sweet little hollow of his navel.

 Apparently, Ryan gave up on getting Miguel's mouth where he really wanted
it for the moment, as the Irishman reached down to softly pull him up with
a steady hand resting on the back of his neck. Ryan propped back up on an
elbow to take another kiss instead.

 Miguel carried the tease to his mouth. Little sucks on Ryan's tongue in
that way he knew would draw a shiver from the man. It made Ryan's dick
twitch hotly too. Brought that soft little noise right into Miguel's
mouth, like Ryan would've been gasping and moaning if his mouth hadn't
been too busy. Vibration and feel more than sound. Miguel was straddling
Ryan now, lowly, on his thighs, not giving him friction where he wanted
it, but resting there connected at his mouth. Miguel enjoyed the feel of
Ryan's lean sides under his palms, still following the urge of needy
exploration. 

 Ryan eventually gave up his mouth and Miguel slowly moved back downwards,
revisiting every inch of skin in between. Deliberately driving Ryan crazy
and loving it. He wanted to coax out that other little desperate noise,
that rare deep whimper that he'd missed. Miguel tongued a hardened nipple
as the pad of his thumb roughly rolled over the other. He felt the brush
of Ryan's dick over his skin again. Just enough contact to tease the hell
out of Ryan probably. Barely a whisper of that head painting Miguel's
stomach and chest as he leaned over Ryan and worked his way down.

 Ryan's hand came to rest gently on his shoulder, a soft glide of rough
fingers over his neck and up over his hair in a caress.

 "Fuck...Miguel." His voice was needy and pleading.

 Miguel nipped the sweet skin of Ryan's vulnerable, flat stomach with
another teasing scrape of his teeth before speaking. "You shove my head
down -- I'll break your hand." Joking laughter graced Ryan's hip as his
mouth slid over it.

 Ryan laughed with him, strained, but low and joyful, shaking with it. It
took the edge off, just like Miguel had wanted it to. He knew Ryan
wouldn't push him. Even that first time, when Ryan had been desperate and
breaking, he'd let Miguel brace himself for taking that step.

 Miguel was lingering for a different reason this time. It was better this
way, and Ryan knew it. Just a small amount of sweet torture, drawing out
the pleasure, building it up. Miguel had all that pale skin stripped bare
for him for once, and that was worth taking the time to explore.

 Now though? It was definitely time to give in, to taste that body, and
seek that salty bitterness. To feel Ryan shudder underneath him. 

 "You taste good, baby," Miguel said with one last teasing lap of his
tongue across that sweet sensitive juncture of hip...before he chased that
skin over to Ryan's cock. Finally he gave Ryan a nice savoring lick. The
taste of Ryan was stronger there, but still good. Similar to that other
skin. Just hotter. Insistent under his tongue. Ready.

 There was that whimper.

 Miguel didn't tease any more. Instead, he opened his mouth, wrapping his
lips around that slick head, remembering the feel. There was nothing bad
about those memories either, and he didn't even want to try to assign
anything but this hot pleasure to this act. Here in this moment, he didn't
care that he should choke on the idea of doing this for a man. It felt
nothing but good.

 The flick of his tongue under the head got that nice tiny tremble in
response. Better than a lollipop. Ryan made his name a grateful groan, as
Miguel had to keep touching. Grasping the beautiful reality of this
moment. Ryan's cock was doing a damn good job of staying upright on its
own, right there at his lips as he slid his mouth further down, taking
more in. Heat. Stiff with attention, but graced with the softest damp
skin. In his mouth, under the mercy of his tongue, as he started up a soft
suck. The stretch of his jaw didn't feel awkward anymore. He didn't need
his hands. He could skim them blindly up Ryan's side, wanting the contact.
Loving the feel of every tiny shiver he caused right there under his
touch.

 He felt Ryan's touch moving softly over him, cupping his head, teasing at
his hair, his neck. Felt Ryan's other hand join one of his in a caress
over the back of it. Grasp and tangle of fingers, as Miguel slipped his
head in soft slow movement. Just right for that hardness filling his
mouth.

 "Oh...fuuck..." More gasping joyous breaths from above. 

 Miguel missed those words from Ryan. Knew they meant only the best
things, as Ryan's fingers clenched lightly, entwined with his still.
Miguel kept the curve of Ryan's hip under his other hand, but Ryan didn't
even try to thrust. He just let Miguel set the pace, let him take over
with his mouth, lying back and enjoying it with those lovely noises and
that other hand moving softly over his head.

 That flesh felt nothing but easy and hot in his mouth. He closed his eyes
and went with it. As much as he enjoyed actually seeing Ryan fall apart
from his touch, the Irishman had a tendency to arch his back as he got
off, head tilting back uncontrolled with the relief, so Miguel would lose
most of his view anyway.

 He just reveled in feeling it instead, in what he was causing. The slide
past his lips, over his tongue, enjoying tweaking and manipulating Ryan.
Running his tongue underneath that long cock as he pulled back, only to
slide right back with a flick. Tasting him. That sweaty grip of sweet
desperation held onto his hand through it all, fingers tangled tightly
with his. He stroked his other hand over that hip, down to cradle Ryan's
balls. He knew that would feel good, especially as Ryan got close. Another
little groan turned to a whimper as Miguel rolled the soft flesh gently as
he sucked. Another clench of those fingers in his, and the ones digging
into his hair, as Ryan arched up into his mouth finally with his release.
He swallowed down the slightly bitter rush over his tongue quickly.

 "Miguel -- Mm ..." Ryan's gasping was cut off as he rode out his climax
into Miguel's mouth. 

 His shark was probably biting his lip. Miguel's lids fluttered open as
Ryan went lax, and Miguel let him slip out of his mouth. He was met with
Ryan's hot gaze locked down on him as he immediately tugged Miguel gently
up with that hand on the back of his head, and the still entwined grip of
their fingers. Miguel followed as the touch led back up Ryan's body, to be
caught by Ryan's mouth now, in his sweeping deep kiss. Lost in this like
the clean beauty of the shower earlier. How the fuck could Miguel have a
problem with that act, when Ryan clung to him, tasted himself in Miguel's
mouth afterwards, and gave Miguel the same with abandon in turn?

 When Ryan just continued those sweet sucking kisses of leisure, Miguel
shifted them, falling to his side beside Ryan. Ryan scooted a little to
make room on the thin blanket of clothes, turning towards him, finally
letting go of his hand to rest it on the curve of Miguel's neck.

 Miguel rested his head on the floor, barely noticing the stone, as he
looked at an extremely pleased and relaxed Ryan. Just catching their
breaths for a minute, even as Miguel stayed aching but untouched.

 "So you did miss me." Miguel teased.

 Ryan just grinned, hand idly stroking Miguel's side. "Mmm-hmm.
Definitely. In every way." Those last words turned soft, making something
inside of Miguel flutter again.

 Miguel wasn't shoving Ryan's hands or head down immediately, wanting to
wait until Ryan caught his breath, letting him glow with that bliss for a
second. They had time.

 Ryan used it to talk. What a surprise. Miguel liked it though; he missed
words. "You know, that shit with the rubber -- I haven't been secretly
running around fucking everything that moves during my years here."

 Miguel shrugged, smirking softly. "Sure."

 Ryan snorted. "When I said few indiscretions, I meant few. Easier to
cover up."

 Miguel looked at a lazily spent Ryan. "How the fuck did you manage that?
From what I've seen -- you're one horny motherfucker." Miguel said it
lightly though, showing Ryan that he was perfectly happy now about that.

 "With you? Yeah." Ryan said. "I told you, Miguel. I can control myself.
It's been me, Miss Sally, and my hand most of the time."

 "Shit...you making up for lost time now, then?" Miguel joked. 

 Ryan laughed softly. "Hey, I never said restraining myself was fun. I
don't have to with you. And you're as fucking enthusiastic as I am. I
could be asking you how you've kept it in your pants these years." But it
was clear he wasn't going to. Miguel had a feeling Ryan knew it was
because Miguel had never thought he'd like this, want it as much as he
did. He hadn't thought he could find this taste of relief with a man. He'd
been hiding from the possibility, denying it as an option. Until Ryan had
pinned him to a wall and forced him see it, to face it head on. 

 And now Ryan was showing him...this. Which was so far past what Miguel
had expected, it was a different world. A far better one. 

 They lay there, legs overlapping each other's space, on the hard floor,
facing each other. Miguel was still achingly hard, but waiting for Ryan to
move. Seeing if he could hold off. Savoring that tight yearning feeling
too. His own torture. That warmly relaxed body close and brushing his. Not
enough, just tempting barely-there touch. 

 "Mmm..." Ryan drew a hand over Miguel's side, gaze just taking him in,
tongue tucked momentarily between lips, like he was contemplating his
move. "You seemed a little shaky earlier in the shower."

 "I'm good, tiburón." Miguel answered the unspoken question truthfully. 

 Ryan's gaze dipped to Miguel's dick, and he grinned lewdly. "Yeah...you
seem distracted from all that shit and very happy to be out now." That
gaze was still stroking over Miguel's body like a living thing. 

 Ryan finally moved those touches from idle to purposeful, making due on
the hot promise in those eyes. Mouth kissing down Miguel's chest, a
steadily continuing journey down his stomach. Small splashes of heat
gracing his skin as Ryan's mouth opened to lick and suck promises over
Miguel's body. Hot wet tickle of tongue flicking inside his navel making
his breath catch. Beautifully torturous.

 Miguel laughed breathlessly, remembering Ryan's sendoff when they'd
decided to send Miguel to the hole. "That's what it is -- you go down just
to fucking distract me and keep me calm, don't you?"

 Ryan paused to look up at him with a wink. "Works wonders, doesn't it?"
Then that playful teasing was swallowed up by something else, shivering
heat in those eyes as Ryan's voice turned rough and deep. "I do it because
I want to."

 Miguel didn't have time to process that much, his attention immediately
stolen away by gorgeous wet heat. Voices swallowed as those words led that
soft mouth in washing over him, bright hot gratification. Miguel's hand
buried in that dark hair with a groan as Ryan finally gave Miguel a taste
of relief.

 Ryan still started slow, with a soft wet suck over just the head. Another
slow promise, feeding Miguel's ache. Feeling so fucking good and making
him hope for more, in a perfect way. Just before Miguel started to lose
himself in the start of that slippery light suction...Ryan pulled off.
Leaving Miguel out in the cold. 

 "Q-qué?" The strained questioning protest left Miguel without checking in
with his brain. He looked down into amused green eyes and that wicked
smirk.

 "You're the one that likes... teasing." Drawled out answer as Ryan dipped
his head, bringing the slide of that half parted mouth over the side of
Miguel's length, touching but not taking him inside. Teasing the hell out
of his aching body.

 Payback.

 Soft lips glided along the side of his dick, damp silky contact so good
but nowhere near enough. Just making Miguel shiver with need, with the so
close sensation. Miguel groaned, fingers twitching, still buried in dark
hair. "Fuuck, baby..." 

 Ryan laughed. Softly, a husk of warm breath over needy flesh...before
Ryan diverted even further, moving off of his dick. Gracing Miguel with a
little lap of lithe wet heat to his balls instead. 

 Miguel's head rolled back, eyes half-closing, as he tried not to thrust
up into air, so desperate for some touch to his now neglected dick. At the
same time he was being driven fucking crazy ... he was enjoying that new
torturous touch. Ryan lightly mouthing his balls, softest, hottest tease
of a suck. Just making the ache so much worse, the hot tingle and
desperate desire for more so much better. "You beautiful slippery
bastard..." Miguel groaned fondly, smiling and shaking with almost
laughter, mixed with a heavy dose of want.

 Ryan just laughed again, vibration buried in Miguel's body, hands sliding
over his hips in that continued tease.

 Miguel would not beg. At least not for another ten seconds.

 Thankfully, Ryan didn't make him, lifting his head after a second of that
laughter and winking up at Miguel again as he hovered over his dick. Ryan
relinquished the wonderful torture fast, gripping Miguel's hips and
sliding him into that mouth with a nice long swirl of devious tongue.

 No more tease, just that heat, swallowing him up. Perfect after the
taunting absence. Miguel let Ryan's heat wash through him, spreading that
melting sensation to his very bones. Words fell from Miguel's lips as his
hand settled on Ryan's head, stroking soft hair as Ryan's mouth worked
around him. Encouragement and endearments and oh how he had fucking missed
everything...mostly in Spanish, only half passing his brain on their trip
to his lips. Ryan kept up the soft bob of his head and that grounding
caress of his strong grip along Miguel's hips. Miguel caught glimpses of
hot joy and amusement in his eyes...and that just made it better. 

 Until it all finally rushed over Miguel, sweeping him under in the most
beautiful way, as he came into that mouth. Ryan swallowing it down without
hesitation.

 "Fuck...Ryan..." Miguel let out breathlessly as he came down slowly,
floating from pleasure and relief, finally slipping from Ryan's devious
lips.

 He tugged on Ryan's arms, wanting him up where Miguel could kiss him,
really touch him, lie in warmth with him. Ryan slithered up his body
easily, taking Miguel's mouth. So fucking good. The taste of him in that
mouth, taste of Ryan in his. Meeting and just giving in to each other.
Joining in the heated afterglow as Ryan came to collapse close beside him.
They stayed there in the quiet again, lying on their backs, sides pressed
close. Miguel's hand was caught up with Ryan's. Thoughtless touch, fingers
tangling with each other again, resting on Miguel's stomach.

 He liked that he could just be here with Ryan afterwards. Feeling human.
Even after he'd gotten that physical relief, he still wanted this. Needed
it. 

 "Thank you," Miguel said after a few minutes, sincerity in his now
serious voice, as he turned his head to gaze into those eyes.

 "My pleasure." Ryan grinned with a little 'no sweat' gesture.

 Miguel couldn't help rolling his eyes, a small smile on his lips. "Not
for that. Thank you for coming to see me while I was in the hole."

 "It wasn't enough." Ryan the serious one now, with that quiet voice and
deep gaze.

 But it was. Just the fact that he had tried. 

 "I'm out and better now, ain't I?" Miguel shrugged. "It helped keep me
sane." He'd been lost there in that darkness, but he'd come back.

 "Really? This is sane?" Ryan joked before shifting back to serious. "I'm
sorry. I know you don't like being closed off alone, but I didn't know it
would be that bad." Ryan paused, studying him. "You're... good... now,
right?

 "Yeah, I'm good, Ryan." Simple words repeated, but he let his eyes and
his firm caress over Ryan's arm carry his sincerity and thankfulness for
the continued concern.

 There was something subtly different about Ryan, something even more
open, but Miguel couldn't pin down exactly what it was. He knew it felt
good though. He knew...a lot had changed since their deal had been struck.
*Them*, and this strange heat and comfort, this humanity they'd found,
were coming before the business end of things. Even the sex was no longer
just about needing touch from any other body.

 Miguel had missed Ryan himself, not the plans or their strategic
partnership. And Ryan had clearly missed *him*. Had been worried about
*him*, and it wasn't about his place in the scheme of things. The man who
was always thinking, always scheming -- hadn't brought it up yet, had
focused on just being with Miguel first.

 Miguel may have been fucked up and lost, but he remembered how Ryan had
visited him in the hole. Helped him while he could, anchored him. Ryan had
been open and real, that mask peeled back completely. Only showing concern
and just being there when Miguel had needed him. Even through the dark,
Miguel had held on to that as much as he had been able to.

 "I'm sorry we had to meet in another tiny fucking room right after you
got out, but we wouldn't have been able to spend as much time alone in the
gym safely." Ryan seemed genuinely regretful and concerned about Miguel
getting claustrophobic.

 Huh. Miguel hadn't even noticed the small space and close walls with Ryan
there. "Didn't notice the room, Ryan. Just you." Miguel admitted quietly,
eyes darting away from Ryan's and to the walls.

 "Good." Ryan's own quiet word joining Miguel's, as his touch pulled
Miguel's gaze back.

 He was focused on lying there, spent and relaxed with another warm naked
body. One that belonged to a person he wanted to be near. Sharing the
afterglow. He hadn't had this in so long. Miguel didn't even care that it
was the floor and not a bed. He just enjoyed it for a few minutes, letting
himself not think.

 But he knew he had things to work out, so he turned to Ryan more
seriously after a few minutes, still keeping close to that body, not up to
dressing yet. He was distracted by a tiny muffled beep. Ryan's watch?

 "How much time we got left?" Miguel asked at the alerting noise.

 Ryan shifted a little, hands digging into the clothes underneath them,
groping Miguel more than he strictly had to in the process, before he
finally came up with his watch. 

 Ryan grimaced as he checked the face and pressed the buttons. "Only
fifteen minutes." He set it back down on the other side of his body with a
sigh. "How'd things go with Vasquez?"

 Ryan finally shifted to practicality, now that they had to. Miguel knew
it was important. He needed to find everything out. He needed to prepare
to go out and deal with it when he left here. They had stolen what they
could without it, and that was good too. Ryan had apparently set his watch
to warn them when they were almost out of time. Which meant Ryan had known
he'd be extremely distracted. It made Miguel want to grin.

 "Good. El Norte hasn't regrouped yet. He's the only one I talked to.
We're meeting later," Miguel said. He'd known Ryan had been keeping an eye
on him.

 Ryan switched to the necessary conversation about what was going on, but
he went back to that light idle caress over Miguel's arm at the same time.
"Good. They're including you?"

 Miguel nodded. "I haven't seen Guerra yet, but yeah. I'm supposed to be
finding out what's up with Pancamo's crew, and what the word is." Miguel
ended with a look at Ryan, prompting him to spill the knowledge he
inevitably had.

 "After you left, Ricardo got busted trying to mess with the wops. El Cid
finally went over the edge, gathered up Guerra, and cornered Seggio in the
gym. I think the crazy cocksucker was actually so far gone he was going to
airhole the guy. Pancamo got there first. You know that Guerra got fucking
stabbed in the crossfire by El Cid, right?" Ryan didn't even hesitate to
lay it out, but as he spoke, he was being...fucking distracting. Even as
his tone stayed businesslike, and he was obviously serious about the
situation, it didn't stop him from moving over further into Miguel's
space, throwing a leg over him, and turning to look down at him even as he
moved. That long naked body slipping on top of his as Ryan talked fluidly.
"El Cid was DOA. Guerra's fine, really. The wops barely broke a sweat."

 Miguel nodded to signal that this was the information he already
basically knew, just now in more detail, as he felt all that warm weight
come to rest on top of him. Ryan covered him, propped up on his elbows
sheltering Miguel's head. Chest to chest, hips to hips, Ryan's legs firmly
braced along the outside of his. Fuck.

 "I got all that from Vasquez. What's up with the wops now? How much
payback are they gunning for?" Miguel kept his voice steady as he gazed up
into Ryan's face. He was...blanketed by that body, nothing between them,
just skin to skin pressing down on him.

 This was a little new too.

 But not necessarily in a bad way.

 Ryan shrugged, and that felt pretty fucking nice all along his body. The
Irishman didn't look too concerned. "So far? Signs are looking good for
us. We may have just gotten out of lockdown, but you know how fast the
fucking buzz spreads in here." 

 Ryan sat up, just a little, pulling back enough to run his hands lightly
down Miguel's arms, before immediately turning to a caressing slide back
up, guiding them up over his head. Odd graceful movement as Ryan was lost
in that head. It was idle and without purpose. Miguel let him, arms
sliding up over his head with Ryan's touch, Ryan's hands staying on him.
Ryan slowly and gracefully fidgeting with Miguel's body instead of his
own, as his shark thought and planned while he was laying things out. 

 "The consensus is --" Ryan punctuated the middle of his sentence by
finally ending his grip up on Miguel's wrists. Their arms were up and
spread apart on either side of his head, and Ryan was lightly holding his
wrists in each of his own hands, pinning them to the stone floor as Ryan
slipped back down with the move, pressed even closer and chest to chest
again. "El Cid fucking snapped, and went rogue on everyone's asses,
without consulting his boys."

 Miguel raised an eyebrow at the movement. He was basically... trapped,
but so gently and without a vibe of "gotcha". More like Ryan was just
resting comfortably there and enjoying playfully messing around, rather
than trying to restrain him. Like he was just lost in enjoying touch and
movement. Miguel knew how Ryan craved touch, communicated with it, curled
up in it for comfort. That kept Miguel from tensing up, from worrying.
From panicking and throwing Ryan's ass off. The complete lack of power
trip in Ryan's movement and gaze made it...okay. There was only bemused
idle warmth, even as that mind worked and planned in grey-green eyes.
Miguel had been carefully watching Ryan for intent, while he soaked in
what was coming out of the Irishman's mouth. 

 Miguel was assured by the feel of that press, the light idle grip, and
the look on Ryan's face that he didn't seem to have an intent other
than... enjoying touch. Lots of roaming contact. Playing. Miguel found he
didn't mind it. He liked that warm weight on top of him, the touch there
constantly around him, even as his own mind worked with Ryan's, and he
focused on what was going on in Emcity. It was like a discussion in bed
with a longtime partner. Messing around with mindless, comforting contact
even as you discussed serious shit. Everything seeming easier and lighter
because you were together.

 Miguel considered Ryan's words as he just felt the oddly relaxing weight
of that body and mindless stroke of those fingers. "Really? That might
actually be how it went down, I think. I haven't had a chance to talk to
anyone other than Vasquez, but I don't think they were expecting the shit
El Cid pulled. We don't waste wise guys." 

 As good and warm as that body felt on him, even with Ryan's fingers
encircling his wrists, it was time to see how Ryan felt about a little
change. See if it bothered him, make *sure* he wasn't serious about
keeping Miguel pinned, however lightly. Miguel pressed up a little,
swinging one leg from between Ryan's to hook around the other man's even
as he broke Ryan's light hold, switching to holding the Irishman's arms.

 Ryan just grinned, even as Miguel saw his wheels still spinning on
business, and he let Miguel flip them without a blink. Miguel was careful,
instead of just harshly slamming his pale ass onto his back. He didn't
want that, just wanted to feel him. Guiding him gently in a quick, smooth
fluid turn. 

 Their positions were easily reversed. Mirror image. Miguel on top.
Pressing against that body between his legs, those wrists gently held
under his hands now, spread out. Breath sped up, but Ryan just looked
amused and still comfortable, pleasantly rubbing up against him.

 He kept talking too, undisturbed. "The current word is good for us.
You'll find out more about what actually was in your boys' hearts when you
speak to Guerra. Even if that isn't how it went down, and you find out
that Guerra was in on it, and that El Cid announced it to El Norte before
it happened, we'll make sure no one hears that. We can just keep it
spreading our way, if you can get your boys to agree to that version to
keep things from getting worse. El Cid was a lone psycho wolf, fucking
around without the backing of his loyal pack, who now realize the extreme
errors of his ways, and they had no clue about the strike against the wops
beforehand."

 Miguel nodded, pleased. "Everyone blames El Cid, not El Norte -- no big
war."

 "As long as your boys see the wisdom in playing it that way, and the new
leader goes to the Italians with an explanation fitting that story,
looking to stop the tension and come to an agreement, as an olive branch."
Ryan grinned right along with him, as Miguel let Ryan's wiry wrists go
with a stroke back down those arms, coming up to rest on his own elbows on
the stone, looking down at Ryan. Just enjoying the feel of their bodies
lying all over each other, of Ryan so close.

 "As soon as we get a fucking leader." Miguel snorted. 

 "Mmm...yep. I know who has my vote." Ryan leaned up a little, craning his
head to steal a kiss. 

 Miguel let out a soft laugh after meeting that mouth firmly. "Yeah, but
you don't get a vote."

 Ryan shrugged again. Mmm...yeah, that felt good from this position too.
That small movement of Ryan's body pressed underneath his.

 "You'll work it out soon, you just have to get back to your amigos and
feel things out, guide them. Shouldn't take more than a day or two.
Adebisi and his boys are hanging back, just waiting to see what comes out.
He's not going to stick his hand in any more though, not in any way that
will hurt us. He'll support you being named as leader, and work with you."

 Miguel remembered the last time he'd tried to team up with that
motherfucker and grimaced. "That bastard left me out to dry last time.
Laid me fucking low out in front of everybody."

 "He won't this time. Don't worry about him. I've been dealing with his
shit for years," Ryan said seriously, like they'd deal with it if he
became a problem, before his demeanor lightened to what it had been, his
hands slipping over Miguel's hips comfortably. "You all caught up?" Ryan
tilted his hips up into Miguel playfully on "up". "We haven't been out
long enough for anything solid to happen. Everyone is still regrouping
like El Norte. Anything else you need clarified?" Ryan asked, tone
slightly serious and thinking, offering. "I've still got some information
gathering of my own to do. I think that's everything important though. Get
with me as soon as you've met with more of your boys, and you've gotten
the vibe there."

 Miguel nodded. "Yeah, I'm good, and I will." Miguel pressed down,
catching Ryan's mouth again. Now that he was caught up, he could lose
himself there until they had to go back in a few minutes. Ryan seemed to
have the same plan and agree heartily, shutting up and just melting him
with that hot mouth, his hand coming to gently cup the back of Miguel's
head, as the other arm wound smoothly around him. Happily leaving business
behind again.

 They were eventually pulled out of each other by another little beep.
Damn. They'd flipped again at some point, and Miguel hadn't noticed much,
caught up in Ryan's mouth and the easy tangle of their bodies. Miguel's
back was on the stone again, clothes bunched under him, with Ryan on top,
between his legs. Ryan pulled back away a few inches, on his elbows, that
close encapsulation around Miguel's head again.

 "Shit. Five minute warning." Ryan looked just as irritated at the
interruption of time as Miguel felt. "We have to go."

 Miguel sighed, admitting their defeat, as he sat up. Ryan shifted but
stayed there, so that Miguel ended up with his arms around the warm
Irishman in his lap. Fuuck. So nice. He didn't want to have to put the
space back between them. He wanted to stay here and feel human, not alone.
Free with this new disarming comfort he'd found wrapped up with that naked
body. He was still a little surprised at how...easy... it was. How good
and natural it felt, pressed close and practically rolling around naked
together. It was more intimate than anything they'd done before. He had to
kiss Ryan again with the realization. Just steal another second. 

 Ryan pulled back with a smile tugging at his lips, even as he sighed with
his own displeasure at having to leave. "We have to get dressed." Ryan
finally lifted up off of him, offering him a hand up.

 Shit. Miguel took it, getting up, dusting off the parts of his body that
had gotten dirty during their messing around. He stopped when he realized
it would be more fun to dust off Ryan, reaching out to slide his hands
over that skin, helping. Ryan grinned and returned the favor. They didn't
linger though, no time, dammit. Miguel bent with Ryan to pick up clothes,
shaking them out as they went. Passing them back and forth as they
randomly picked up articles of clothing, until they each ended up with
their own. They dressed quickly, tugging on pants, bracing on each other a
little as they pulled on socks and shoes while standing up. 

 "Our clothes got a little dirty from our asses lying all over them on the
floor." Miguel observed, not too concerned, as he gave his shirt another
shake before pulling it on. They weren't too bad, nothing that would stick
out as noticeable in here. Just some light dirt and smudges from the floor
and the sweat, nothing incriminating. 

 Ryan said as much as he shrugged into his shirt with a grin. "Every
scumbag in here is dirty. We'll blend."

 Time to go. Miguel steeled himself for his return, ready to slip back out
into the world after a final long kiss from his shark. They were wrapped
back up in each other's touch, for a just a moment, fully clothed again. 

 Ryan pulled back, with one last lingering stroke of fingers over Miguel's
cheek. "Adios, gato. See you soon." 

 Miguel nodded slowly, slipping his hand over Ryan's clothed hip and away.
"Yeah, soon. You go work those moves you're so good at."

 Ryan's sneaky grin flashed across his face at that. "You too. Stay safe."

 Just when Miguel thought he was going to finally leave, Ryan darted in
for another kiss. A brief damp touch of lips that was all about longing
and promise. "Missed you." Whispered so low, Miguel wasn't quite sure he'd
heard it.

 "Yo también." Miguel returned with his own low breath, before they
finally parted for real. 

 ~ Chapter 14: Restoration ~

 When Miguel returned to Emcity it was time to deal with everything. Put
things to rest. Get El Norte's shit together while everyone was still
regrouping from the lockdown. He had gotten the lowdown from Ryan before
they'd gone their separate ways. Everything had seemed much less fucking
dangerous and more manageable when he was there with Ryan. Body to body,
Ryan's hands tracing idly over his skin as they talked. He hadn't seemed
willing to stop until they'd had to, and Miguel found himself feeling the
same. He was calmer now, felt like he had his head on straighter.

 He would need that to deal with the faces of the men he had...partially
betrayed. Miguel could lie, smooth and easy, with a smirk, swagger, and
not a hitch of breath. He usually didn't even get called out. He just
didn't live by it like tiburón did. He wasn't used to it with men that he
was supposed to be tied to with blood and sweat. He had to keep in mind
that that he'd managed it before he'd been sent to the hole. He just
needed to fall back into the groove of it. Finish it. Miguel needed to
focus now, to make sure everything slid into place like it was supposed
to. The hardest work, the worst betrayal --getting El Cid out of the way--
was done. Dead and gone. There was nothing that would change that. If
Miguel was going to go wishing for the ability to right unchangeable
wrongs he had committed...he would have started with the eyes of an
innocent man, not reviving the breath of the man who had made Miguel take
that precious gift. 

 It was him or El Cid. He had chosen himself. It was time to move forward
with the small control of his own fate that he had gained. It was time to
make everything smooth for the future. Tie it up with a bow. There were
still too many chances to fail. 

 Miguel was faced with one of his biggest internal chances to fail as soon
as he returned to Emcity. 

 Guerra. 

 He had started to doubt Miguel's leadership before El Cid had landed
himself inside. Miguel knew Ryan was right about the reason. Miguel didn't
let Chico off his leash, didn't let him follow his rage into fights they
couldn't win and trouble they didn't fucking need to stir. Chico had been
more than fucking happy to step up and kick dirt on Miguel's face once
they started following El Cid, using El Cid's dislike of him to really let
himself loose on Miguel. 

 Now, he could keep Miguel from leading. Fuck, he could cause real
problems for him. Miguel refused to resort to Ryan's kind of "solutions,"
though. Not with Chico. The guy was a dick now. But he was just a follower
of El Cid in a way. Taking his frustrations out on Miguel for whatever
fucking reason. Miguel didn't know where the grudge really stemmed from.
Just bad timing, probably. Something little turning big in the face of the
encouragement of El Cid's own antagonism of Miguel. Happened all the time
in here. Mob mentality. Working yourself up over little slights until you
couldn't remember what the cause was. All you could feel was just the
release of having a target for all the shit inside of you to be vented on.
Miguel knew that. He'd been there himself. It was no fucking way to live.
After Miguel hadn't let him go off on just anybody, all that angry
bitterness Chico had building up had been given an outlet by El Cid, and
one of the main targets was Miguel himself. Miguel was hoping to change
that, hoping it would be soothed. Back to the way it was. Miguel
remembered...they used to be brothers. They used to be close. Chico used
to trust and follow Miguel. Maybe El Cid's meltdown would knock some sense
into the guy about his temper.

 Here was Miguel's chance to find out. His bones were liquid steel. He
would do this. Hide his secrets again. Stand firm. He hadn't let Chico get
away with his shit before, and he sure as hell wasn't going to start now.
Guerra was there waiting outside the pod of Miguel's door when he came
back.

 And that alone was a good sign. It was the little things mattered in
here. The shows of boundaries and respect that they imposed on each other.
Signals of who was strong, who mattered, of the connections between
people. You only went barging into somebody's fucking pod when they
weren't there for one of two reasons. Either you were really fucking close
and you had their permission, or you didn't fucking care about
disrespecting them. 

 Miguel and Chico were bound together by El Norte, but they both knew
their bad blood put them past that first liberty. And the latter would
mean Miguel probably couldn't reach the man and would have one hell of a
fucking battle to set things right.

 This...this was an olive branch. An acknowledgment. 

 Miguel took it, striding right over to Guerra, looking serious but not
pissed. Keeping open. 

 "You're out." Chico greeted with a nod of his head, as Miguel got close.
That old simmering antagonism wasn't in evidence. Guerra seemed wary, but
not in an adversarial way. Like he was feeling it out as much as Miguel
was.

 Good.

 Miguel nodded, immediately opening the pod door and stepping in, but he
kept his hand on it in automatic invitation for Guerra to follow. "How you
feeling, Chico?" Miguel inquired with a gesture to the man once the door
was closed behind them. "You healing up okay?"

 They slid into a position of the closest thing to privacy, stepping into
the pod. Miguel spun around the chair he had been sitting in earlier,
sliding it close to the bed before he slipped to sit on the bottom bunk.
He wasn't going to make Chico sit on the fucking toilet.

 Guerra hunkered down in the offered chair across from him. "Yeah, I'm
good, Miguel. You?"

 Chico was watching him closely, and looking nervous. Tentative and
watching Miguel for clues, like Miguel was doing in turn. Guerra kept
lowering his head and Miguel could see the hidden tension and uncertainty
in his body. The need to fidget. He could also hear the cautious concern
in the other man's voice. Guerra was looking for a truce. He wasn't like
Miguel's shark. He didn't hide his true feelings to play nice and lull you
into a false sense of security. When Chico had something against Miguel,
he let Miguel know it. Guerra had always been that way with everyone. 

 "You know me and little rooms, hermano." Miguel said with a shrug, but
with a steady sanity in his voice that played down what he had been
through. "I'm glad I'm fucking out."

 "We know you went down for El Cid's own stash. You made another
sacrifice, proved again that you have the balls. You've always been a part
of us." Guerra met his gaze head on now, seeming to gain comfort, as
Miguel didn't hold anything against him. He was giving in and
acknowledging Miguel's place. "I'm glad you're back, hermano."

 Miguel nodded. Sounded a hell of a lot different when Chico said it than
when Ryan did. It was just as genuine, but it didn't feel as nice to
Miguel. Didn't hit him as hard and deep, not in the same way. It still
felt good though. Acceptance. Even if Miguel was inwardly pissed at Guerra
for turning on him in the first fucking place. Chico was using his real
name and the familiar for a reason. Letting him know that the past was
past and he was back. And that bit of nerves was...apology. Guerra would
never say it out loud. This was as much as he would get. It was true to
Guerra's nature, and to Oz, so it didn't bother Miguel.

 Miguel gestured to Chico's body, even though he didn't know where the man
had taken the shank exactly. "I'm glad you only got scratched." 

 And that was Miguel's acceptance of the unspoken apology. His agreement
to burying the past. Guerra looked a little relieved. They both relaxed
some with that out of the way.

 "What happened?" Miguel asked, low and serious as he leaned forward.

 Chico explained without a pause. "You know how El Cid was acting...it
just got worse when you got popped. After Ricardo...he lost it. He
gathered me up to fuck with one of the wops in the gym. I thought we were
just going to intimidate him. Get information and rough him up a little,
you know? But El Cid was all fucking worked up. Pancamo came and we
should've backed off until we had reinforcements, but El Cid went fucking
loco and attacked. He was yelling all kinds of crazy shit. How he was
going to whack the wops, everyone was against him, and he was even
rambling about me turning on him. He was waving that fucking shank around
like he didn't even see me."

 "Shit, man." Miguel drew his hand over his face with the weary words. A
gesture that looked innocent, looked like he was just confused and torn up
at the news, but it gave him something to hide behind. This was a scary
balancing act. Fear, guilt, and hope for a renewed future were all pushing
down on his shoulders, crowding his still mixed-up head. He carried on,
pulling together the strength that kept him alive in here. "Nothing we can
do about that shit now. You get the lay of the land? Where we going from
here?"

 "Don't know yet. Everyone else is on the way. We got to figure that shit
out. What have you heard?"

 Miguel leaned forward even more, both of them hunching close, and spilled
what he knew. He left out his source of information. "The mooks aren't
looking for hard payback yet. Their asses are just as lost as us. They
don't know what the fuck was up with El Cid. They don't know if El Norte
was behind it or he just went nuts. People are talking, saying he was
loco, hermano. It keeps us safe for right now."

 Guerra nodded. He had never been much of a thinker. Not that he was stone
stupid, he was just a fighter. He acted. Chico was a good right hand. When
he fucking wanted to be, Miguel thought with a bit of wry bitterness that
he carefully kept off his face. Now, though, with no one clear to step up,
he could get a delusion of leading. He was the only one other than Miguel
really qualified; the only other one that might be accepted. Miguel could
deal with that when they came to it.

 He had some last groundwork to lay, some last words to get out just for
Chico before the rest of the boys showed up. He needed to reaffirm his
loyalty to El Norte, just for Guerra, and start planting seeds in case
Guerra did end up the fucking leader.

 Miguel locked eyes with Chico, serious and down to business. "We're here
now, in this beef with the wops. It's a bad place, but it's our lot. El
Cid may or may not have started this, but he led and that was his right.
From here, we can try to smooth things back over to the truce El Cid
originally made with the wiseguys...or we can go with the war." 

 Guerra spoke up, looking more worn and thoughtful than Miguel ever
remembered seeing him. Maybe taking a shank actually had sliced some sense
into the guy. "We're not pussies, but those wops aren't some little nigger
gang. We kept peace with them for a reason. The fucking mob has things
locked up. War with them..." Guerra left it open, knowing the possibility
for disaster.

 Perfect. 

 Miguel jumped right in with strength and reassurance. "I'll back you and
El Norte whatever you decide. A war with the wops is going to be bad,
hermano. I ain't going to lie. We're smaller, and without a leader. There
will be major losses on both sides. Money and blood. At the first move,
we'll be back in lockdown in the blink of an eye. But we can put up a hard
fucking fight though."

 He presented both of the options, but carefully made the war sound
hopeless and devastating, while pretending to be willing to wage it. It
was best if Guerra came to the decision on his own. Miguel's job was to
make the cocksucker think he came up with it as the best course. He was
playing it like Ryan would-- let the mark think it's all his idea. Guerra
would head into it and back it more passionately that way. There would be
no doubting it like there could be if it had been Miguel's decision. 

 Guerra nodded again, confidently. Like he was *thinking* instead of
jumping the gun. Following Miguel's lead perfectly, like Guerra actually
saw the sanity and logic of the cautious course for once. Good. This would
be much easier if the man's old temper really had been changed by watching
El Cid crash and burn like it seemed to be.

 Both men saw the approach of Vasquez and the others. Even better. Time to
settle things and get back on their feet. Miguel had more hope after his
talk with the newly reasonable Guerra.

 *

 Ryan had been keeping an eye on Miguel's pod since the second he had
entered it accompanied. By Guerra. Ryan felt the tension coil in his gut,
familiar enough that he hid it with ease. His body language stayed relaxed
and calm. Nothing to see here. Loose outside, tight inside. Mind and
breath wary, as he appeared nonchalant and bored. 

 Miguel had said things looked good with his boys, but Ryan was still
worried by the sight of Guerra alone with him. Ryan's apprehension
increased when more of El Norte gathered in that tiny pod. Ryan observed
the happenings inside with narrowed eyes that weren't really on the
magazine he held in his hands. He kept a careful watch for any warning
sign. Noting the posture, positioning, the stridency of gesturing hands.
Making sure it stayed looking like a discussion and not a trap for Miguel.
If it looked bad, well, there was no way he could intervene directly, but
he could call the guards' attention to it and have them do it for him.

 O'Reily relaxed with Miguel's seeming ease. With the lack of those bodies
closing in. They were just huddled around each other. Talking. Getting
down to business. Good.

 Until the fucking hacks entered Ryan's view, making a beeline for the
pod.

 Shit.

 So much for getting the necessary rebuilding discussions out of the way.

 Ryan kept his grimace inside, as he watched the meeting get broken up by
overly cautious guards. With the known tensions involving the Latinos, and
it being the first fucking day out of lockdown, the authorities weren't
taking any chances. Anything that looked like a strategic gathering of the
spics or the wops was getting put to an end as soon as it started. 

 It wouldn't last too long. The hacks just didn't want to look too bad by
having another meltdown right after their last "punishment". They'd go
back to less vigilance soon. Had to. Groups and gangs gathering were
inevitable. Ryan and Miguel could wait, but not long. They needed him to
put things right with his boys, to take the reins.

 Ryan gave a frustrated-looking Miguel one last glance as the Latinos gave
up and scattered. He went back to his magazine. His gaze shifted lazily
over the staged shots of excitement. A pictorial that seemed to evoke a
lewd pillow fight between slutty sorority girls who had lost their
clothes. 

 His attention was pulled away quickly by Cyril's arrival. They'd needed
fucking space after the long lockdown. Ryan had slid his gaze to his
brother occasionally, making sure he was safely being babysat by the other
Irish.

 Cyril plunked down beside him, fingers automatically tapping a
pattern-less beat on the table as he stared idly at Ryan. Quietly at
least. Ryan sighed and gave up on his magazine, flapping it shut.

 "Ryan?"

 Ryan focused on his brother's innocent face. "Yeah, Cyril?"

 "You seem better." Cyril stated simply, with a little bit of happiness
that he had figured it out.

 What the hell did that mean? "I wasn't sick, Cyril."

 Cyril shook his head. That wasn't what he'd meant then. Ryan watched his
brow furrow as he tried to figure out the words to make Ryan understand.

 Fuck, it still hurt to see him like this when Ryan let himself remember
the old Cyril. His brother was a permanent child now. As long as Ryan
focused on how he was now, and forcefully put out of his mind that it had
ever been any other way, it was better in a way. It took effort, though,
to not think of the way he had been, but it was slowly getting easier as
those years faded and the new ones stretched bleakly before them.

 "Remember when you told me I didn't have to fight all the time?" Cyril
restarted slowly.

 "Yeah." Ryan was almost surprised that Cyril remembered that. That same
little pause was caused when Cyril remembered or understood *anything*,
like a small strange instinctual part of Ryan's brain thought that since
the old memories were gone, there would never be any new ones again. But
Ryan knew, in the more logical parts of his mind, that while Cyril's old
memories may be gone, he did listen to Ryan closely now trying to soak up
everything his big brother said.

 What Ryan remembered about that particular incident was what Cyril had
said. He remembered that brash little shock at what Cyril really was
capable of comprehending, breaking through his anger. Sometimes he saw
things that Ryan didn't even admit to himself. 

 'You don't have to fight all the time.'

 'I don't?'

 'No, you don't.'

 'But Ryan, *you* do.'

 That little flash of honest insight had knocked the breath out of Ryan
for a second back then. Made him regret snapping at Cyril, made him
feel...thrown, but less alone. A reminder that Cyril was still there, the
parts that mattered. The parts that loved Ryan and saw into him like only
his brother could. He was one of the only people Ryan let close.

 Ryan pulled himself out of the memory, and nodded at Cyril's hopeful,
impatient stare.

 "You seem better." It gave Cyril the confidence to continue, in that
stumbling hesitant child voice that at the moment held a strength of
surety just the same. "Something's different. You're not fighting as much
anymore, are you?"

 And it knocked the wind right out of Ryan again...because in his own way,
Cyril was trying to say that he saw it. The change brought about by the
partnership with Miguel. The Latino was changing things for Ryan-- and
Cyril *saw* it.

 Ryan tensed a little, warily...but Cyril seemed pleased with the change.
And Ryan *wanted* to say something. It slipped out quietly, just for
Cyril's ears, as Ryan leaned forward a tiny fraction. "Someone's been
helping me." He missed confiding in Cyril. Missed his brother always being
there to lean on. So, he still told Cyril things he didn't give up to
anyone else, but needed to let out even if Cyril didn't always understand
them. But maybe he did this time.

 Cyril started whispering, picking up cues from Ryan's posture and
demeanor. "Who? Is it Dr. Nathan?" 

 Shit.

 "Nah." Ryan dismissed that with the same bit of wary nerves, even as it
manifested as casualness to keep Cyril calm. He hesitated again. "It's a
secret."

 "Even from me?" Cyril was hurt, but Ryan had given up enough. Too many
details would be a very bad fucking idea.

 "Just for now." Ryan assured him carefully. He needed to make sure Cyril
didn't get worried, and wouldn't say anything. "Sometimes you have to keep
things secret to protect them."

 "It's not bad is it?"

 Ryan answered quickly, low and carrying the truth. "No. I promise."

 "Then it's okay." Cyril nodded slowly. "I'm happy someone's helping you."

 "Me too." Ryan said. "It's good for both of us, Cyril."

 Cyril snorted, like a child who just knew better than an idiot adult. "I
know. Everything's better when you're feeling better."

 **

 Miguel's fingers slipped over the worn spines of books in gracefully idle
patterns as he pretended to look them over. He wasn't paying attention to
the words printed across the bindings though, just the feel of them under
his touch. His eyes were really slipping to the floor, watching the slow
steps of black boots staying in range of him, gaze going up and over to
catch Ryan there as they directed their low voices towards the shelves.

 They were alone for now, but it was calculated chance, not safely
scheduled and paid for seclusion. They were hiding in plain sight,
carefully pretending to look for something to read near each other in case
anyone came in. The library wasn't the most popular place in the fucking
prison, though, especially during Up Your Ante on the first day after a
long lockdown. They should be undisturbed.

 "Fucking hacks interrupted our meet." Miguel murmured as he pulled out a
light and well-worn paperback. He flipped it over curiously in his hands,
but wasn't reading the blurb. 

 "I saw that. They're fucking twitchy and uptight about your boys and the
Italians gathering right now." Ryan explained with amused irritation. "You
get anything done before they broke up the party?"

 "I talked to Guerra." Miguel shrugged as he slid the book back. He turned
his head to look at Ryan, shooting him a smirk and pointing before he
could speak. "Let me guess, you saw that too."

 Ryan gave up his act of perusing the books, and leaned against the
bookcase, turned to the side and facing Miguel as his arm slid over the
bare top of the low wooden shelf along the wall. "You know me, I see all."
Delivered with a small winning grin in that fondly sarcastic voice as his
fingers picked at the wood.

 Miguel snorted as he returned the grin with a shake of his head. 

 "You two kiss and make up?"

 "We've been over this -- you want me to ever kiss *you* again? Don't
mention my mouth and his in the same sentence." Miguel joked, face pulling
at just the thought.

 Ryan laughed huskily, and mimed zipping his lips.

 Miguel nodded, finally answering Ryan's question. "I think we're good.
The shit with El Cid shook him. He's acting like the grudge is dropped."

 "Good. One less thing to worry about."

 "Yeah. We didn't get to talk about a new head for El Norte though. "
Miguel said thoughtfully as he turned to Ryan, leaning into the bookshelf
himself now. "Chico's my main competition. He may want to lead."

 It was dangerous information to give Ryan, and Miguel had held it back
until now, but Ryan needed to know now. Miguel just had to make sure
tiburón didn't airhole the guy because of it.

 Ryan scoffed, calmly dismissive. "Fuck him. We can pick him off easy.
You'll lead."

 Miguel fixed his gaze hard on Ryan. He was not going to let his slippery
shark do that. Especially considering what the fucker may already have
done. This was why Miguel had to bring it up. 

 "No. He leads? I follow. You got that, tiburón?" Miguel stated firmly,
not letting those grey-green eyes slip away from his. Ryan did not look
happy at his statements. Miguel didn't let up. "The deal was for El Cid.
I'm not turning on anyone else. I can still do what I can for you and get
El Norte to back off of you in the tit trade without leading. With El Cid
and his fucking grudge gone, I'm back in all the way. I've got jizz
again," Miguel explained. 

 It was true. Miguel could tell that from the brief seconds he got with El
Norte before the hacks had fucking butted in. It was obvious from Chico
coming to him first with the closest the man would openly come to
repentance for turning on him. If Chico ended up leading, Miguel would
probably end up his second. He could get them to play nice and ignore the
dealing of the Irish again, no problem. Especially since, well, it had
been Miguel that had set El Cid on the war path against Ryan's dealing in
the first place. 

 Ryan looked pissed -- tightening up and standing straighter with the
first words out of Miguel's mouth, and not soothed by the rest, just
dismissing them. Those eyes were alive and steady, locked on his with
their own stubbornness. "Fuck that!" Not shouting, because of the venue,
but the words were hissed out with vehemence just the same. "I don't care
about that shit. I know you can make sure El Norte stops posturing and
glaring about the Irish side of the tit trade. But I don't care if you can
get Chico to beg for snausages -- you can lead better than that cumstain.
You should head them."

 "It's El Norte's decision. I'm fine with not leading. I'm staying loyal,
I'm by his side as long as he doesn't turn on me." Miguel met stone with
stone. He was a bit fucking thrown by the fact that Ryan seemed to be
pissed about Miguel not leading for reasons other than business and the
Mick's own welfare. He seemed to accept that Miguel could still help him
either way, but was still passionate about Miguel being on top.

 "Your loyalty lies with me, not Guerra!" That gaze was hot and adamant on
his.

 Miguel stood his ground, staring at Ryan in disbelief, taken aback by the
assertion. "What?!? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I'm not your
fucking prag!" Miguel's own shocked anger came out in the rasp of his
voice.

 "No!" Ryan slid closer with that, fast as a cobra strike, but all his
anger changed to...irritated apologetic explanation. "That's not what I
fucking meant, and you know it." Strident but desperate, and Miguel
realized it with another shock. That outburst hadn't been about business
at all. This was personal for Ryan. "We're partners, remember? We're in
this together, fuck Guerra." It was a much milder dismissal of the man,
almost off-hand. 

 That hurt shock was as genuine as the anger. Oh fucking hell. Ryan was
jealous and feeling betrayed because he thought Miguel was putting his
loyalty to Chico first and pulling away from his dealing with Ryan for El
Norte? Shiiit. Apparently all that time in the hole had made Miguel forget
how fucked up Ryan could be. Or maybe he'd just never felt this needy
possessiveness aimed at him before. The outburst was caused by Ryan's
concerns about their partnership ending -- and not just the one in the tit
trade. 

 "I've got your back. It ain't about that." Miguel's defensive reflexive
anger melted away at the revelation of the cause of Ryan's behavior. Ryan
hadn't been calling him a prag or trying to order him around at all. Ryan
was worried about keeping him close. "You know that even I don't like the
fucking guy, but that don't matter. I'm part of El Norte, and that's not
about us. I just wanted to give you a heads-up. If they name him leader,
you keep your hands off of him, okay?" Miguel kept his tone lighter now,
quieter. Just steady explanation, not threat. 

 Ryan nodded a little. Didn't look happy still, but he was back to just
seeming mildly irritated about not removing Guerra as a complication. 

 Still...another thought occurred to Miguel. Ryan's motives were known for
being slippery and Miguel had to make sure. "Why, do you want to
re-evaluate our partnership if I'm not leading?" Maybe Ryan had another
reason, some fucking plan, that required Miguel to head El Norte, and
Miguel would lose his usefulness if he wasn't. It didn't seem that way
though. It sounded genuine, and Miguel was pretty good at reading the
Irishman by now.

 "What? No, gato." Ryan shook that off dismissively, looking a little
thrown by the thought. Like it hadn't been anywhere on his radar. "You can
get my back either way. You being the head would be helpful in some ways,
but it isn't required. Either way has its own bonuses and drawbacks. We
can get things done regardless." Ryan's gaze dipped, as he went more
serious, focusing on his own thoughts, with a tentativeness quietly
haunting the words. "Even if you don't lead, you're sticking with this,
right?" Ryan was seeking...reassurance. 

 That was it then. Miguel was right the first time. It had nothing to do
with Miguel's usefulness to him as a player. How long had this been going
on and Miguel hadn't noticed it? Not really, anyway. He saw that Ryan had
started to really care, for some fucking reason, but he hadn't realized
what that meant. Ryan was going to be even more of a delightful pain in
his ass now. Because the Irishman didn't care about many people, but when
he did, he did it with a vengeance. Miguel almost wanted to smirk, but
figured it would be a bad time. 

 Miguel shrugged the question off, like it was insane, slipping a little
closer himself. "Of course, Ryan. Nothing about us will change." Miguel
let out his smirk after that though. "Chico better stay healthy if they
turn to him instead of me though, okay?" Miguel warned one last time.
Couldn't be too careful when it came to his shark.

 Ryan rolled his eyes, but he was swallowing a grin at Miguel's first
words. Miguel could tell. "Fine."

 Miguel hadn't forgotten Chico's words either though, so he went back to
studying Ryan closely as he asked the important question. "Guerra tells me
El Cid was paranoid and rambling about Chico turning on him right before
he accidentally stabbed his ass."

 And there went all of Ryan's tells. ringing alarm bells in Miguel's head
as the Irishman went...purposefully loose. Face too casual. Turning on the
so smooth unknowing innocence. Like he did right before lying his ass off.

 "Really? Guess the shit we were slipping him worked and he did go fucking
crazy."

 "Yeah." Miguel said, staring Ryan down mildly. Letting him know he knew.
"It was the drugs making him paranoid, right? Not some little birdie
whispering in his ear. What rumors did you spread after I went away,
tiburón?"

 Ryan sighed and gave it up. "Look, it wasn't much. Just a little chatter
right before the fucker snapped about how somebody could possibly, maybe,
think of selling him out. It didn't get to El Cid from a reliable source,
if he wanted to believe it was possible -- that's all him. Chico's alive,
right? He's back on your side and not mourning El Cid? Everything worked
out."

 "The deal was Guerra didn't get harmed unless we had to."

 "Hey, it was one guy wondering about loyalty in times of trouble out loud
in Hernandez's general direction. I didn't spread anything about Guerra
actually betraying him. I was careful to only feed the motherfucker's
paranoia. I thought *maybe* he'd snap at Chico a little, treat him like
shit like he did you. Alienate him and make Chico rethink his treatment of
you. Then maybe when El Cid shuffled off this mortal coil, Guerra would be
nicer to you after understanding the guy's unreasonable fucked up grudges.
I didn't think the crazy bastard was going to stab the cocksucker. He
didn't go after Guerra just because of that one thing, the guy was nuts.
He would've stabbed anyone near him."

 Miguel knew that was true, too, from what Chico himself had said. El Cid
hadn't been aiming for him, he'd been slashing at the air at any movement,
lost to his demons and rage.

 "Jesus," Miguel sighed out at the extra lengths Ryan had gone to. 

 But things had worked out. Ryan couldn't have done that much damage.
Miguel had known what he was dealing with when he hooked up with the
Irishman. The dangers. Even if their feelings towards each other had
changed, O'Reily still operated the same. Miguel could handle that, he
knew what to watch out for. It wasn't worth giving up...whatever this was.
Ryan wasn't the only one that fucking *cared* now. Miguel may be a little
pissed about the Guerra rumor, but it wasn't too bad. Ryan had held to his
word far more than Miguel had expected him to, actually. 

 Ryan rolled his eyes at Miguel's slight show of exasperation with what
Ryan was capable of. "Stop acting like I'm the devil, gato. Nothing
happened to your precious Cyclops, I know what I'm doing." 

 Miguel raised an eyebrow, not able to keep a grin from tugging at his
mouth. "Cyclops?"

 They were both still turned to face each other, leaning on the
bookshelves, but the space between them had condensed even further.

 Ryan gestured vaguely at his eyes. "Guerra. What the hell is up with that
eye of his anyway?" 

 "I don't want to fucking know." Miguel said with a grin and a shake of
his head, before focusing back on business again. "Shit will be settled
soon, one way or another. You're back selling again, right?"

 "Who says I stopped?" Ryan was just...smirking. He plucked out a book
randomly, and shifted to lean his back against the shelf, sliding closer
in the process. "It'll be easier now that your ape isn't on my fucking
back anymore."

 The pages fluttered by as Ryan fanned through them, not reading. Miguel
just watched the words blur and race, before Ryan clapped the book shut,
turning his head to aim that smirk more firmly at Miguel.

 "Don't think I've forgotten who set that cocksucker on my ass in the
first place."

 Damn. Tiburón didn't sound upset or vindictive though, just highly
amused.

 "You pissed off about that?" Miguel asked idly.

 Miguel whispering in El Cid's ear, stirring him to muscle Ryan out of the
tit trade, was what had gotten this thing between them rolling in the
first place. At the time, he figured Ryan roping him into this shit and
getting his boys popped for tits was payback enough to settle the
Irishman's grudge.

 Ryan's smirk shifted into that shark grin as he turned back to Miguel,
slotting the book back in its place. "Now or then?"

 "Then." Miguel prompted, wondering what the answer would be. He wanted
both.

 "Fuck yes. I sent the hacks after your asses, didn't I?" He was still
amused, like it was one of those experiences that fucked you up at the
time, but in retrospect you could see the humor.

 "Now?" Miguel slid closer, into the heat of Ryan's body. It was still
cold in Emcity, even if he didn't really know the temperature outside.
Miguel was wearing his dark blue shirt with long sleeves as a nod to the
chill of late winter, and Ryan had on his grey hooded sweatshirt unzipped
over one of his green tees. The proximity let Ryan's scent join the musk
of the books.

 "Definitely not. You wanted that ugly ape off of your back too. You
thought I could take care of it." Ryan explained, grin getting closer,
bringing his warm breath to Miguel's skin. 

 Miguel remembered. He hadn't really been planning it that way, wouldn't
let himself think of it too much. It had been mostly subconscious. He knew
what you got when you pissed off O'Reily-- especially by trying to cut off
his livelihood. And yeah, that's what he had wanted to fall on El Cid. 

 "You were right." Ryan finished, voice lower, matching that husk of
breath right before he finished closing the distance between their mouths.

 It was a brash grab of a kiss. Those lips half-parted against his. Firm
and perfect, sudden heat warming Miguel straight through. Just for a
second, before they both backed off, aware of where they were.

 "What if I hadn't agreed to partner up with you?" Miguel asked idly,
still feeling Ryan on his lips even as they put the distance back between
them, a careful buffer.

 "I would've walked away and left you to deal with him." Ryan answered
seriously. "But you didn't, and I didn't...and I don't regret a fucking
thing."

 ~ Chapter 15: Settling In ~

 Miguel had time alone after lockdown. Time stretching out unfilled before
the lights went off and he could rest on something other than stone for
the first time in a month. The thin mockery of a mattress would never feel
so wonderful as it would tonight.

 They hadn't gotten him hooked up with another podmate yet, so it was just
him in his very own fluorescent-lit fishbowl. He stared out for a while,
leaning on the glass, feeling the coolness of it against his forearms. He
surveyed things idly, like he always did. He missed it, in a way. After a
month with nothing but stone walls to stare at and no way to mark time,
watching the myriad lockdown and bedtime rituals of other men was
interesting. While the lights were still up, some guys sat around talking,
some played cards or chess. Some were obviously gearing up to take
liberties from their weaker podmates as soon as the darkness would let
them. Some shaved or settled in on the fucking toilet, to the annoyance of
the man trapped in the pod with them. Some, like Miguel, just watched the
world beyond the glass, the closest thing to television available after
lockdown. 

 This was more like being inside the television set. Inside a cramped
space, behind the glass, looking out at people staring at you or walking
past. Watching people just going about their banal lives instead of
programming designed to hold your attention.

 Miguel saw a slice of Ryan there in his own pod. He had caught a glimpse
of Cyril wandering around inside before. Ryan was parked there at the
glass, just like Miguel. Tall grace, leaning his side against the
invisible wall that was only noticeable by the glare of lights. O'Reily
had gotten halfway dressed for bed. Shirt off, wearing grey sweats that
had been worn thin and raggedly cut off into shorts just below the knee.
Still had his big black boots on, though. 

 Miguel took a second in the darkness of a long blink to remember that
body stripped down and gasping his name on grey stone. When he focused
back on reality, Ryan's gaze was passing over him. Miguel had tossed his
shirt off for the comfort as well, and he subtly flexed at the attention,
his arms spread up there on the glass. Not enough movement to signal
anyone else as out of the ordinary, but Ryan saw it. His gaze lingered in
Miguel's direction for a moment, even as that expression stayed stone
normal. Ryan's body shifted as he reached up, though. One arm slipping up,
resting on the glass now. A casual stretch of his position and posture.
Nothing out of the ordinary. But Miguel liked the way it showed off the
long line of Ryan's body. 

 He had caught sight of something else when Ryan had moved into his
current, lazy, half-stretched out position. A tiny sign that had been
there and gone with the first shift of the movement. Ryan's hand had gone
deliberately flat on the glass as he'd moved his arm up, palm out and
pressed there for one extra second. Those eyes had been locked on Miguel's
at the time.

 Ryan's subtle hidden acknowledgment. His secretive version of a wave.

 Miguel shifted himself with another flex. Bringing his arms down from the
glass slowly, he casually changed his own lean against the glass. As he
moved, he took a second to press his palm secretively to the glass in
turn, staring at Ryan. 

 The moment of reaching out passed between them as invisibly as the glass
walls, the glare of the action only catching in each other's eyes.

 *

 Miguel gave up his watch before Ryan did. He settled down into his bunk
with a long release of breath. He took the bottom one, almost always had.
He could've taken the top bunk now that he was alone and El Cid was gone.
He just liked the bottom bed better. Even though he knew some guys went to
a lot of trouble whipping their dicks out over ownership of the top bunk,
like it meant something. To some it did. Miguel had never been a prag, so
it didn't have that sting of other meaning, of being forced to the bottom,
used and taken for whim. 

 Gang structure was different. Miguel had taken his vows, and willingly
belonged to something bigger. It wasn't the same as being a bitch. It was
a different, acceptable, exchange of power. Besides, El Cid had gone out
of his way to make Alvarez feel lost, outside, and inferior in other ways,
so that sleeping in the top bunk was nothing compared to the other signs
of the man's disdain. The leader had the right to choose anyway. Miguel
had given it to him, instead of the other man taking it from him. He
hadn't even been using the top bunk at the time. So, the top bunk as an
important symbol to hold on to didn't mean as much to Miguel. 

 To him, the bottom bunk mainly just meant your ass wouldn't fall so far
if you rolled off in the middle of the night. He liked being close to the
ground. He liked having the solid canopy above. The ability to hide a
little in the shadows. It made him feel less like he was in that big glass
fishbowl. Like he had a sliver of cherished shelter and privacy.

 Even when he had led, he had taken the bottom bunk most of the time. It
had been seen as a matter of preference, not a sign of subservience. It
was only subservience if you couldn't *have* the top bunk, even if you
wanted it. 

 Miguel knew Ryan always took the top. He'd have to ask him one day
whether it was him showing off his big powerful dick, or the guy just
liked the openness, the height, and the breeze. Maybe they felt more like
freedom to the Irishman. Now though, it might just be the little
brother/big brother code of the eldest getting the top bunk.

 Miguel had kicked his shoes off, shed his pants, and climbed under his
sheets. He wasn't quite ready to sleep yet, he just liked the luxury of
the fact that he *had* a bed to lie down in, a blanket to pull over him.
It felt cold and clean. He knew it would feel even better when it warmed
to his body heat.

 He was alone in the dark with his mind again, and the clutter and mess
threatened to come back. All that shit that he'd shut away the second he'd
left that little stone room was easier to remember now. To feel. It was
better, the worse had gone, but the chaos was still alive. The worry and
strain. It hadn't stopped the second the door swung open, he'd forced it
down. It would take a while to really get back to normal, he knew that
from experience.

 He hadn't taken his meds since the boxing, and the fucking hacks wouldn't
have given them to him in the hole anyway. They dulled the hot rush of
anger, and fractured thinking, that sometimes hit him. They helped him
feel a little more in control on his bad days. His mind shifted less
chaotically when he was on them. He might start taking them again. Maybe
it would help speed his adjustment, help him keep it together. Keep the
dark at bay while it slowly faded away. 

 He'd made it through the crucial first day. First time after El Cid's
death that he was face to face again with the gang he had subverted and
partially betrayed. He had to hold on to the fact that he hadn't really
betrayed *them*. That hadn't been his goal. In his heart, he hadn't been
after them. It had been one man. El Cid would have been the death of him.
Miguel had claimed his own life back. He'd never really turned on El
Norte, just the man pretending to be king. But it was still hard. That
first day looking at them all, realizing they had never had a clue that he
had been manipulating events the whole time, and that he had dual
loyalties now, to them and to his partnership with O'Reily. The first day
leaving behind what he had done and starting anew. It was a painful
stretch into a new future. A brighter, better one. But the past still
scraped along his skin as he'd talked like he'd had nothing to do with El
Cid's death and planned that future. 

 He'd held it together at the time because he'd had to. He'd gotten used
to it a little, at least, during the time before the hole when he had been
orchestrating everything and lying to them. He was still too shaky to
slide right back into it without it messing him up a little. He had been
helped today by the calm gained in his hour stolen by pale skin, slightly
rough hands, long arms wrapping around him, and the taste of a firmly
clinging mouth.

 Now though, he could feel it. The splintered thoughts and fears that had
shattered him in the hole were still floating around. He was having
trouble focusing through it all. He was still learning to adjust to the
light after the long dark. The stress didn't help. Made it harder to
slough off the bad crazy shit and replace it with strength and confidence.
With a sense of rightness. 

 He'd get it back. It would just take a while, like everything. He had
time, now. Time without that guillotine threat of death or solitary
hanging over his head. And he knew as well as anyone that in lives like
theirs, you accepted your choices and rolled with the changes or you got
crushed underneath them. He was quicksilver. Liquid and smooth. He'd been
adapting and changing to survive his whole life.

 And at the heart of it, his conscience could move past this far more
easily than wrapping his mind and soul around what he had done to Ricardo.
That would haunt him. This would fade away. It had been a necessary
action. As necessary as other lives he had taken, and all the other
trespasses he and everyone else in here lived by.

 He closed his eyes, thinking of the thing that had settled his blood,
gave him that sense of rightness and comfort -- belonging -- that he'd
rarely tasted. 

 Ryan. 

 Ryan wrapping around him, seeking his own comfort. The memories were all
grins, laughter, nice deep groans, and heavy breathing. 

 How had this happened? Didn't matter. Things happened, you rolled with
them. If they felt good in a place where nothing else did, you didn't
question them too much. It was a waste of time, when you could be holding
on to the joy. Things were what they were. However fucked up him and Ryan
O'Reily getting naked and close was -- it was something that he didn't
want to lose.

 Miguel thought of earlier that day. His homecoming in a storage closet.
Reuniting with Ryan had been important to him. It had meant something.
Meant as much as getting out of the hole did. 

 Miguel hadn't fully realized what they had become until then. Maybe being
locked away without it had made it that much clearer when it all rushed
back, as he remembered that Ryan was something that had kept him from
drifting away completely in the hole.

 He knew know, saw it clearly. Felt it with that same clarity, even here
in the unsteady, quiet night. 

 Earlier? Hidden away, embracing, playing around, and fucking *savoring*
each other? They weren't two guys working together -- covertly and forced
at first, but becoming strange friends -- who fucked around with each
other as a bonus to that business because other options were lacking and
they needed any touch they could grab, anymore. 

 They were lovers.

 As strange as it was, lover was the word that fit best, really. Not
because they were in love, they weren't. But because it wasn't just sex
grabbed without meaning or context, purely for the release with the only
willing flesh they could find, anymore. There was more here than that.
They were actually choosing each other now, not just falling together for
strategic reasons. And they were tangling tighter together, just because
it felt good. Because they liked it, and fucking liked each other now.
Because they couldn't stop it.

 They enjoyed each other's company. They were focusing on each other now,
as much as alliances and covert business partnerships. Maybe even more,
because the business was becoming partially about them. Keeping each other
safe because the safety of the other was starting to matter, not strictly
because of the deal. 

 Miguel could feel the remembered heat of Ryan's body on his even as he
lay there under the blanket alone. It kept him company, allowing him to
feel the truth of them, as his mind cycled down towards sleep.

 He sighed out a deep low breath, eyes staying closed since everything he
needed to see was in the inky blackness behind his eyelids, as the shock
of fully realizing what they become wasn't, well, as *shocking* as it
should be.

 He had never thought this would happen. Of course, he was learning that
O'Reily had that effect on him. Miguel kept doing things and discovering
things that he would've denied as possible before.

 Miguel Alvarez, lover of women -- their scent, their grace, their curves
-- found that there was pleasure to be found in a male body as well. Out
of desperation and pure lonely need at first. But it wasn't about that for
either of them now. He touched Ryan, took him in his mouth, writhed
against him because -- he wanted to. Ryan turned him on and got him off
and calmed him down, and comforted him. He even worried about the
Irishman's well being. He cared for and he lusted after the man. Ryan
himself. Not just because he was available and the fucker had offered him
a deal he couldn't refuse at the time.

 Miguel Alvarez, who knew better than to trust that slippery fucking Mick
who lied and manipulated like it was his mother tongue, had started to
really want the guy around, and trust him.

 Miguel smirked there in the dark, as he turned on his side and dug in to
the wonderful relief of fabric, stuffing, and springs, pulling the blanket
up high to keep warm. 

 It was fucking insane. 

 He'd not only slipped from forced desperate alliance to almost friend to
fucking *lover* with a man, but he'd done it with Ryan-fucking-O'Reily. 

 At least Miguel wasn't doing this half-assed. O'Reily had been a force to
be reckoned with since he'd set foot in Emcity, even when he hadn't had
anyone to lead, no one behind him but himself. Miguel had since found out,
because he became interested enough to listen for information about Ryan,
although the Irishman himself had never mentioned it, that O'Reily had led
on the outside too. Leader of his own fucking gang. Shit. Even Miguel
hadn't led outside.

 It figured- if Miguel was going to go for a fucking guy, it would be with
a powerful, dangerous motherfucker that he could respect.

 Truly fucking insane.

 Didn't make it any less true.

 Miguel focused on that, the insanity he liked, instead of the actual
stress and chaos in his head, as he drifted off to sleep.

 **

 Miguel stumbled out for morning count with everyone else, getting used to
days divided by buzzers and guards taking a more active interest in him
again. He took note of where Ryan was, something he did frequently now.
His gaze slid over everyone though, so it didn't stand out. It was what
everyone who had half a brain cell did, watched those around you. Miguel's
gaze didn't linger, but he'd seen Ryan there yawning, shirt slung over his
shoulder, doing up his pants, with Cyril right beside him.

 Miguel didn't keep a bead on the man though. It's not like he was fucking
going anywhere. Miguel went about his own morning. He decided to grab a
fast shower right away before it was time for breakfast. It didn't give
him time to talk to El Norte, but they'd have time to get down to business
and really talk at breakfast. The guards wouldn't break them up at their
table in the cafeteria as long as they were eating.

 He wasn't surprised that he had the shower room to himself for a few
minutes. Not all of the guys in here showered every day, even though the
dirty fuckers should've, and they were slow and lazy as a rule. Not a lot
of early morning showers.

 He wasn't surprised when a certain Irishman joined him after a few
minutes, either. Ryan was dressed, carrying his shaving kit. He set up at
a sink while Miguel let the water clean and invigorate him. They didn't
really look at each other, but they didn't really need to.

 "Morning, gato. First night out go okay?" Ryan asked quietly. 

 Miguel didn't bother checking if Ryan was looking at him, he probably
wasn't for the sake of appearances. "Yeah. That lumpy piece of shit
mattress has never felt so good. You?"

 "Same piece of shit mattress as always." It wasn't too much of a
complaint though, Ryan's way of letting him know he'd had a good night
without saying anything.

 Miguel casually glanced over and saw that Ryan may have been watching him
in the mirror. Yeah, Miguel doubted Ryan had come in right after him
because of some overwhelming need to be clean-shaven immediately upon
waking. Ryan didn't say anything else, so it wasn't because they had to
talk. They were alone, but it was a slightly dangerous game tiburón was
playing. Not too much danger in the voyeurism though, just enough for a
thrill. 

 He took his time washing, making sure to do a thorough job of sliding
soap over his slick skin, and taking his time rinsing clean, letting that
water cascade all over his body. Ryan was staring into the mirror intently
enough that Miguel knew he was catching him in the reflection. A few
covert glances confirmed it, as Miguel saw the hints of hot tease in those
eyes. Hey, if his shark left with the start of a hard-on, it wasn't
Miguel's fault -- he'd brought it on himself. 

 Miguel sort of liked Ryan being there first thing in the morning. It was
reassuring after the thoughts he'd fallen to sleep with. It all hadn't
been his mind fogging as he'd drifted off to sleep, he felt it here still
with Ryan -- who was looking like he felt it too, and like he wished he
could chase the suds over Miguel's skin.

 The sound of the door signaled another occupant entering. Playtime was
over. 

 Shit. It was Guerra. Miguel finished up, quick and cold.

 "Yo, Miguel."

 Miguel turned around after shutting off the shower. He approached the
short tiled barrier as Chico did, both of them stopping there. One on
either side. Déj vu, except one of the players was dead and gone, and the
mood was entirely different. No questioning, no threat, no judgment, no
disdain. 

 "Yo, Chico. What's up?"

 Chico *handed* him his towel. *Nicely*. Things had definitely changed.
Just like Ryan had said they would a while back, actually, now that he
thought about it. Miguel kept anything from registering on his face as he
took the towel with a grateful tilt of his head.

 "Hey, O'Reily, this is private. Take a walk." Guerra called out, looking
over to the Irishman.

 Ryan looked at Guerra through the reflection in the mirror, expression
strongly scoffing and dismissive -- and not intimidated in the least.
"Nothing's private in Oz, Guerra. Or didn't you notice the glass walls?"

 Great job, tiburón -- piss him off. But Miguel thought he saw a hint of
what Ryan was playing at. Miguel decided to test his theory. Even if he
was wrong, Ryan was smart enough to pick up on it and roll with it. He
waited a moment until Ryan finished rinsing his face clean.

 "O'Reily, you're done here, right?" Miguel asked, not as arrogantly
dismissive as Guerra. It was easy respect, but still missing the kind of
deference that he didn't owe Ryan since Miguel wasn't one of his men.
"Stop hanging around to listen in on our business and check out my ass."
It was a mild, routine taunt with no real venom behind it. Just the same
casual tone and words everybody who wasn't enemies, but wasn't quite on
the same team, used when they dealt with each other in here.

 "You wish." Ryan snorted with that same casualness as he finished packing
up his shaving kit. His movements were carefully unhurried, while still
not dragging out his departure. The perfect balance of self-confident
power, with respect. "I'll leave you two alone to stare at each other's
asses." It wasn't as harshly delivered as it could've been, not a true
thrown gauntlet of an insult, just that same regular shit talk.

 And with that, Ryan left. 

 Perfect, and just what Miguel had suspected the Irishman had been up to
when he had taunted Guerra and ignored his request. 

 Ryan had dissed Guerra, but left, as he finished up, when Miguel asked,
showing Miguel the respect. All without hurting his own reputation and
standing at the same time. It had shored up Miguel's in Guerra's eyes.
Because Ryan was a gang leader, and he was treating Miguel as his equal in
front of the man. It was a fucking beautiful move. Subtle and improvised,
but grabbed at the opportunity and used to its best effect. His tiburón
was so fucking smooth.

 Miguel dried off briskly, before wrapping the towel around his waist, and
resting his hands on the partition to talk to Chico.

 "I came to make sure you're coming to breakfast, where we can all talk."
Guerra explained.

 "Yeah. Right after I get dressed. Unless you want to discuss the question
of leadership with my naked wet ass dripping in your food?" Miguel teased
easily, testing the new currents between him and the man.

 He got a grin from Guerra for it. Damn, it had been a long time since
Chico had been sane and friendly with him. It felt good. "Yeah, please get
some clothes on that ass." 

 Miguel chuckled as he stepped around the low wall, going to leave. Fuck,
Guerra was even joking back like the old days. The shit with El Cid
must've really scared the hell out of the man. He had changed. Miguel knew
it wasn't an act, because Chico wasn't ever anything but right there on
the surface. 

 Guerra even waited to fall in step and walk out with him, but before they
got close to the door, Chico made him pause with a hand on his arm and
quiet words. "You were right." 

 His contrition was clear on his face, even though that must've hurt the
man to admit. Guerra never would've said that if he didn't really feel and
mean it. The guy wouldn't have been able to stand the blow to his ego any
other way. The fact that he was even willing to do so was another good
sign of his change.

 "I'm right about a lot of things. Which one are you talking about?"
Miguel teased with a raised eyebrow, keeping it light. It was his way of
accepting the man's words without drawing attention to them, which would
soften the blow to that ego. Miguel could tell Guerra appreciated it not
being rubbed in his face.

 "We shouldn't war over stupid shit. El Cid is dead because of it, and he
left us fucking weak."

 Miguel just waited for Chico to continue, since him railing against the
old dead bastard would be poor form. 

 "We want you to lead."

 Oh. Damn. Miguel didn't hide his slight surprise, or his serious
acceptance of it as an honor. Shit, this hadn't taken anything at all to
pull off. And Guerra was delivering the news himself on purpose, making it
clear he was fully behind Miguel as leader. Seeing El Cid self-destruct,
lose control, and almost take him down with him, had held up quite the
mirror for Guerra, it seemed. 

 "For real? Everyone's agreed?" Miguel asked for clarification on purpose,
as they stayed there by the short tiled wall, halted from leaving the
privacy of the room. He was double-checking, showing that Chico and
everyone's approval meant the most. 

 Guerra nodded strongly. "Shit's gotten all stirred up and we need brains,
strength, and allies. We need a level head."

 Sensible Guerra. Yeah, that was a definite change.

 "And you want me?" Miguel's voice was serious and gruff, fitting the
weight of the decision. 

 "Yeah. You tried to lead us that way before..." Guerra trailed off, as he
looked down at the stone. 

 All that old bad shit left unsaid. 

 "What about you? I ain't going to lead just to have people change their
minds when someone doesn't like my way." Miguel's words pulled Chico's
face back up. He phrased it as carefully as possible, but it did have to
be dealt with once and for all. Out loud. He wasn't being accusatory
though, just matter of fact. Like he was giving Chico an out. He wasn't
really, he was assessing the threat. He also knew asking would make him
look better in Chico's eyes. "If you think there's someone else who would
do better, someone you can stick by -- " 

 He *may* have been digging the knife in just a little with that last
part. But it was his right.

 Guerra cut him off with serious assurances, sounding like he was
acknowledging his fault in the past. "No. You. I'll stick by you. I get
what you were saying back then about being a hothead now. I understand why
you have to stay cool and steady. I should've listened." Guerra's hand
went to his ribcage with the words, but he seemed unaware of the gesture. 

 Miguel knew in that instant that must be where he had taken the shank. He
nodded, and motioned for them to finally leave the shower room. "Good.
It'll be my honor to lead. Thanks for coming to me. We'll get through this
shit, hermano." Miguel cuffed him on the shoulder as Guerra nodded.

 The other man stayed with him, beside him all the way to Miguel's pod.
Thankfully, he then left to let Miguel get dressed. He said he'd hold
Miguel's seat in the cafeteria and tell everyone the good news. Miguel
would be back in charge right away. Chico coming to him was the official
overture. 

 Once he was dressed, Miguel caught sight of Ryan. The Irishman hadn't
gone to breakfast yet, but he wasn't in an easy position for Miguel to go
over and ask to get him alone. Miguel thought a minute as he walked away
from Emcity. When he saw that all of El Norte had left already, he quickly
decided to sneak a fast detour to the library to leave word for Ryan. 

 They had stayed in the habit of leaving vague notes, not signed with
their own names, for each other in certain books as a contact method.
Miguel could leave O'Reily a short cryptic note that let him know things
had worked out. The books they used changed, for safety, but the ones
Miguel left things in tended to have something to do with sharks. 

 Miguel always found notes for him left near mentions of cats. Miguel
grinned as he went for his chosen book, thinking of the one Ryan used
most. It was a book of fairy-tales, his note always tucked somewhere in
"Puss in Boots". The wily cat in that always reminded Miguel more of Ryan
than himself. He wasn't sure if the Irishman intentionally used that one
more frequently, but he had a feeling it was an unconscious thing. 

 The library was empty, the librarian wasn't in yet, and everyone else was
off for work detail or food. Before Miguel even got a chance to leave the
note, he was joined by --

 -- Ryan himself, slipping in and shutting the door behind him. "You know,
when they say books are food, they mean for your brain, not your stomach."


 Miguel grinned. "I bet they would taste better than the shit you cook
up."

 "It's possible. " Ryan tilted his head with a matching grin, conceding
the point. "Did you need me, or are you not going to eat this morning?"
Ryan seemed a little worried.

 Miguel shook his head. He could see how hiding out in the library instead
of going to his boys in the cafeteria could be seen as a bad sign for his
relations with El Norte. "Just wanted to drop word for you."

 "Good or bad?" Ryan stalked closer, but they both kept an eye on the
door.

 "Good." Miguel said simply. They didn't have more than a minute,
unfortunately. "Guerra came to me with it -- you got your vote for El
Norte's new leader, baby."

 He couldn't keep the cockiness out of his words or smile. Ryan didn't
seem to mind.

 "And here I thought going to the polls didn't really make a difference."
Ryan's grin grew as he stopped right in front of Miguel, only to glance
back at the door in caution before leaning in to grab Miguel's full
attention with a quick strong kiss.

 Tasted like toothpaste and triumph. Miguel licked his lips as Ryan
quickly pulled back; they weren't safe here.

 "Congratulations, El Capitan."

 *

 He quickly left Ryan to head to the cafeteria. He was greeted like he was
in charge again, even Ricardo welcomed him with a clasp of hands. Guerra
came up to walk through the chow line beside him, leaving the food he had
already gotten to get cold. Hardcore discussion on what to do with the
Italians would be later. For now, all that mattered was that the question
of leadership had been established and discussing the new lay of the land.


 Miguel had the most information out of anybody, but they'd all been
hearing the same thing. People were inclined to see El Cid's actions as
those of a crazy man acting on his own, unless someone in El Norte said
different, and the Italians were awaiting El Norte's response before
making a move. Miguel took charge easily, everyone listened to him without
doubt, and he was pleased to see his and Ryan's plan seemed to be the
course everyone was leaning towards following. He didn't outright mention
O'Reily, or making friendly with the Irish quite yet, but it was hinted at
that allies and truces were what they needed. When Miguel mentioned that
the Irish were among those that might not dispute their side and they
might come to an agreement with them, no one batted an eyelash or
protested. They were just impressed that the Homeboys and the Irish were
open to it. Because they partially knew it was because of Miguel. From the
minute El Cid's reign had passed, Ryan had made sure it was no secret that
he and Adebisi had considered Miguel the heir to the throne, one they were
willing to deal with.

 Preliminaries taken care of, most of the guys finished and left,
following Miguel's directions. He lingered, eating more slowly. 

 Guerra was the last one to move, standing up when Miguel finally made to
leave. "Don't forget to put money on the Muslim in the fight. He's gonna
cream that white boy."

 Miguel blinked up at him as they carried their trays to be dumped.
"Fight? That shit's back on?" 

 He hadn't heard that. Miguel had gone to the shower right after morning
count, he'd only talked to Ryan before now, and they'd been so busy with
business that nothing else had come up. 

 Ryan hadn't mentioned the reinstatement of the last bout. He had never
mentioned boxing at all, now that Miguel thought about it.

 "Yeah. Hacks wanted to call it off, but they went to Glynn yesterday."
Guerra nodded as they made their way back to Emcity. "Just heard this
morning, it's back on, but nobody but those involved will get to watch it.
They're doing it right away, trying to minimize the time for trouble to
brew. It sucks, hermano. Everybody's still taking action though." Chico
rambled, disgruntled about the lack of a spectacle, before he finally
answered the question of who the "they" was. "You'd think O'Reily would've
been against the fight, not going with the Muslim to argue for getting it
back on -- since his little brother is going to get his ass kicked all
over the fucking ring." Chico jabbed at Ryan with a bit of relish.

 Miguel smirked, playing along. He said...something appropriate. He wasn't
really paying attention. His mind caught on the other information instead.

 Ryan had organized with the Muslim, and pulled to get the fight back on.
The fight that was going down *soon*. And he'd never said fucking word one
to Miguel. 

 **

 A little while after lunch, Miguel was sitting back in the common room,
playing a game of solitaire to catch a break for a second. The high of
being in charge, of everything working out, was a rush in his blood. But
it wasn't entirely a pleasant one. He felt his mind and pulse racing. The
pressure was coming down on him along with everything else. 

 He was in charge of El Norte again. That hadn't worked out too fucking
good last time. He hadn't really thought about it this time around. Even
as he'd been pursuing it, Miguel had been more focused on just staying
alive and out of solitary. Leading the fucking gang again was almost a
side-effect. 

 He knew he could do it, that wasn't really the issue. He knew that he
fucking had to, as well. In a way, the honor was also a sentence. He
didn't have a choice but to make things work. All the added shit was his
to deal with now. He was steering El Norte's fortunes behind bars, it
wasn't something light. As much as he mostly reveled in it, and felt that
he was capable, it wasn't all bright. They were in a fucking mess with the
Italians. One he had created. He could pull out of it, but it was one more
thing. One more reminder of what he had done. One more little pressure. 

 But at the same time, things were actually looking hopeful for El Norte. 

 Miguel just needed a distraction. A pause from it all. Things were set in
motion, there was nothing he needed to be directly doing at that moment.
Miguel felt the cards in his hands. Slick, cool, and logical. He could
feel the thin, slicing bite of the edges across his palm if he gripped too
tight while he shuffled. He stared at the cards and focused on the easy
game of suits and numbers to calm his mind. To catch his breath. To remind
him that life went on, long and boring, in here. His mind wandered to Ryan
as he looked for moves. 

 The boxing match had been confirmed for the very next day. They were
moving fast, didn't want to stir up trouble between the races again. But
Ryan had definitely been the one fighting for reinstating the match, and
that's where he had been all day since breakfast. Training with Cyril.

 Speaking of -- the white boy was finally back, without his little
brother. Ryan stopped in his stroll past Miguel's table, pulling up a
chair to watch him. "Hey there, Alvarez." Idle, like he was passing the
time like everyone in here. 

 Apparently, Ryan was sticking to the idea of them hanging out in public
now. Before El Cid got shanked, it wouldn't have been good for them to be
seen too much. Now though, they could talk and hang in public. Everyone
would just think that with Miguel in charge now, there wouldn't be
animosity between the Latinos and the Irish. They'd never been at odds in
the tit trade before El Cid. It would seem like a casual new peace between
the two groups under Miguel's rule. Plus, El Norte was looking to
cultivate allies in the troubled times, so Miguel's actions wouldn't seem
off to them, either. Everyone would think this alliance was something new,
not something that had been going on.

 It wasn't very dangerous, as far as their true relationship being found
out, either. Ryan and Miguel themselves had never been true enemies
before, and given both their reps, they'd probably have to fucking make
out right in the middle of the cafeteria for anyone to think they were
fucking. 

 This was something Miguel had been looking forward to, hanging with Ryan
more. The fucker was sharp, quick, and funny. Miguel wanted to pass the
time with him, even when they weren't touching. All the shit that Miguel
had been thinking about last night stayed true in the light of day. He'd
grown to like the man's companionship, now that he knew him better. And
every sign said Ryan felt the same. 

 "Yo, O'Reily. Want to play?" Miguel offered as he gathered up the cards.

 Ryan flashed him that sharp grin. "Deal me in."

 Nobody was paying them any real attention, life in Emcity going on as
usual around them, so they weren't watching their words too much. They
would have to be cautious, but as long as nobody was close to their table,
they didn't have to censor out everything.

 "Where you been all day?" Miguel gave him a chance to bring it up,
wondering if he would.

 Ryan shrugged. "Gym."

 "Gym? You?" Miguel teased lightly, with the raise of an eyebrow. He moved
on before Ryan could counter the slight mocking insult. He had learned --
counter and dance before the Irishman could jab. "You taking an interest
in body building? I don't think the Pancamo pumped-full-of-steroids thing
would be a good look for you."

 Ryan smirked, and knowing the Irishman's mind, Miguel had the feeling he
was clamping down on the urge to say something about shrinking dicks that
might take their conversation too far in public. 

 "Nah. Just like to stay in shape, and you know Cyril likes to work out."
Ryan seemed to tense a little. It was almost imperceptible, but Miguel was
watching closely. Miguel noticed the lie of omission, too. Ryan still
wouldn't mention the boxing. 

 Miguel let it drop -- for now -- but filed it away. Technically, it
wasn't any of his business, because it wasn't really part of their
business goings-on. But Miguel felt a pang in his gut. He'd thought Ryan
was open with him about things, thought that the Irishman wasn't keeping
him strictly to their business shit. Sure, he didn't tell Miguel every
detail of his day, but Miguel didn't know he was hiding things like this.
He suddenly felt...left out, like he hadn't before. It was a bit of a
shock after the closeness. It didn't fit. 

 Miguel pushed it down, attributing it to the roil of his mind. He tried
not to let it bother him, trying not to question everything he had been
assuming. Everything he felt. He didn't want that lost feeling of the hole
to touch him, drag him back under. He dealt the cards, and left the
subject, needing a bit of peace after the strains of the day spent
starting the reorganization of El Norte. 

 They played a couple of lazy games, both of them dragging it out. Ryan
went back to talking freely, seeming to enjoy just hanging out as much as
Miguel was. It made Miguel forget his tension and doubts. Hell, maybe Ryan
didn't want to talk about it because he thought the boxing was a sore spot
for Miguel after his loss. It might only be Miguel being fucked up still.
Hadn't gotten his head back on completely. Hadn't caught up on his meds.
There was nothing to worry about. Yet. But in the back of his mind,
clinging to the leftover chaos, was a new bit of wariness.

 **

 The next day, as the match drew closer, Ryan still hadn't mentioned it.
They hadn't gotten a chance to really talk alone, although they had been
sitting near each other and talking shit while watching television
earlier.

 They hadn't gotten to really celebrate their plans coming to fruition
yet. They didn't *need* to meet until Miguel got things in El Norte more
settled, and he was too busy at the moment, putting out feelers towards
the Italians. And Ryan was busy with...the boxing, apparently.

 Miguel was back playing solitaire before the match, another brief moment
of quiet. Another moment taken to keep himself solid, keep from cracking.
He'd put a fifty on Cyril for the fight, playing it off by pretending he
didn't want to bet too much after his loss, and that he had decided to go
for the underdog. Nobody but the participants and their boys by the ring
would be allowed at the match, so there wasn't much for him to do.

 Miguel's gaze caught O'Reily strolling by, seeming like he was heading
somewhere. 

 He dropped by Miguel's table again first though, pulling up a chair, but
he didn't really settle in. He spun the chair around, pulling it close to
the table, and mounted it backwards, arms draped casually over the back of
it. "Hey there, Alvarez. Playing with yourself again?" It held no real
bite, and it was similar enough to a fake taunt Miguel had aimed at him
once that it made Miguel smirk.

 "It passes the time. You're the one watching me play with myself." Miguel
pointed out with the slap of a card to the table. "You want to give me
something interesting to do?" Miguel gestured to the cards.

 Ryan shook his head. "I wish, but no time. I'm on my way to the gym."

 Shit. Ryan had time before the match, Miguel knew this, but he still
wasn't bringing it up. He had to fucking know that Miguel knew about the
boxing, everybody fucking knew about it.

 "Again? Maybe I'll get some gym time in too. Can't have you able to kick
my ass." Miguel gave him one last chance.

 "Nah. You stay here, I'm not even taking Cyril. We'll play a game later."
Ryan's gaze went to the cards, tensing almost invisibly, and observing
Miguel's play, but not leaving quite yet.

 Huh. Miguel knew a fake and a dodge when he saw one. Ryan had just been
in the fucking gym before lunch. Miguel knew, because he'd heard the
fighters were getting in the last bit of training allowed before the
fight. 

 "The boxing is back on because you pulled weight with the Muslim?" Miguel
finally just broached the topic himself before Ryan could hustle off
again.

 "Yeah." Ryan said easily, attention...elsewhere... as soon as Miguel
brought it up. The Irishman was focusing even more on the cards. "You
missed a move." Ryan pointed out, reaching out and tapping the card with
his finger. He was trying to distract Miguel. 

 Miguel placed the card without looking, eyes staying on Ryan. "Why didn't
you tell me you pulled the strings?"

 Ryan shrugged nonchalantly. It was too polished and deliberate though.
"There's only the one fight left, you've got enough on your plate. Didn't
think it mattered to you. It's nothing."

 Miguel's gut tightened at Ryan's answer. His behavior. His effort to not
engage the conversation. The hints in his voice, the too casual roll to
his words, the slight tensing of his body. Just *that look* in his eyes.
Something off, trying to hard to appear easygoing and honest. If Miguel
wasn't paying attention, if he hadn't been close and familiar with the
sneaky Irishman, he may not have seen it. But Ryan was definitely hiding
something.

 Miguel's mind turned the evidence over and over in his head. Ryan hadn't
brought up the boxing at all on his own. Even though they talked about
things that weren't strictly business for them now. They talked about
Cyril, and Ryan himself. And this was something Ryan was obviously
involved in, even if Miguel wasn't. It was the only topic Ryan avoided.
And now he was fucking trying to do it actively.

 A little shiver of doubt crept back, stronger now. He was still a little
fucked up from the hole and under pressure. And just as he thought he was
getting steady -- something was here. Making him wonder.

 Ryan stood up to leave after his too casual dismissal. Yeah. Something
was definitely fucking up. "I'll have time for cards later, after the
fight. Try to round up some guys for a poker game if you want." Ryan
paused, before that hint of something came back to shadow his eyes. "Make
sure you lay down some money on Cyril, it'll pay off."

 Miguel just gave a vague grunt of agreement as Ryan left. He gathered up
his cards soon after Ryan passed through the gates though, deciding he
needed to fucking move a little. Stretch. He tucked the deck in his back
pocket and took to the stairs, passing the guard station to the second
level. He decided to lean on the smooth metal rail and just take in an
idle overview of Emcity.

 Stanislofsky caught his attention after a few minutes. Ryan and Miguel
were still keeping an eye on him, but the guy hadn't made a move. 

 Until now, possibly. 

 Miguel watched the Russian as he approached Murphy. He decided getting
closer might net him something. Miguel casually strolled closer, staying
on the second level, hand gliding gracefully over the rail in boredom. He
slid his gaze down to Emcity, not focusing his sight on the Russian
talking to Officer Murphy. Didn't need to, he was within eavesdropping
range now, without having gained either man's attention.

 He knew it had been a good idea to follow his gut as soon as he heard
Ryan's name pass the Russian cocksucker's slippery lips. Yeah, this had to
be a move. 

 Miguel listened to him talk with the Irish head hack, glancing over
indiscreetly a few times. Stanislofsky brought up Ryan. And his *habit* of
going to the gym before a fight. All of it was delivered with that
conniving slither of a coax and a plan. His words all dropped hints to get
Murphy to move, designed to plant ideas in his head. Miguel was familiar
with the technique. Damn, this guy was a lot like O'Reily. No wonder
tiburón was concerned. 

 Miguel didn't focus on piecing together the hints, moving first. His
instinct was to take care of the threat to his partner before dissecting
what deeds were actually going on. Dear old Nikolai wanted Murphy in the
gym, wanted him concerned about what Ryan was up to. That was enough. 

 As Miguel spun the Russian's words and actions in his own mind, wondering
about the hints about the boxing, he focused on rescuing Ryan's ass. That
was his job right now. He didn't have a clue what Ryan was up to, but if
Stanislofsky wanted Murphy in the gym, it was a sure bet that Ryan
wouldn't.

 Miguel swung into action, coming down the stairs to the guard station as
soon as Stanislofsky split. Murphy was already on the move too, spurred by
Stanislofsky's words. Miguel followed him, stopping him with a call. "Yo,
Officer Murphy!"

 Miguel couldn't keep the hack from going altogether. But he could stall
him until there was a possibility that whatever Nikolai wanted him to see
wasn't there anymore. Ryan had said he wouldn't be long and Stanislofsky
had seemed to want Murphy to go right *now*. 

 A few minutes of distraction should do it. Miguel could pull that off.

 ~ Chapter 16: Old wounds, New Weapons ~

 Miguel bought Ryan all the time he could before an impatiently frustrated
Murphy finally slipped the hook.

 He hoped it had been enough.

 Now that the immediate shit was out of his hands, Miguel could sit down
and figure out what the fuck he had just played a part in. 

 He made his way back to his pod, for once enjoying the seal of the door
shutting out Emcity behind him. He could hear the muffled sounds outside
the pod, beyond the glass, but he wasn't listening to the noises of
trapped men. He wasn't looking out. Too busy trying to think. 

 He laid back on his bunk, on top of the covers, tucking away in the cool
shadows to go over the information he had, trying to follow his shark's
moves. 

 Ryan didn't want to bring up the boxing around him. That was what tied it
all together, the clue that something was there.

 The Irishman had been instrumental in getting the last bout back on.

 Stanislofsky knew something. 

 Miguel focused on that for a moment. The man had made a point of saying
that Ryan went to the gym before every fight. He had wanted Murphy to go,
right away, which meant the Russian must've thought Ryan was going to be
caught at...something.

 What that something was...

 Miguel went over the fights in his head. 

 Cyril was up against that big powerful Muslim, yet Ryan seemed confident
he'd win.

 Ryan was always confident about the winner, because you put your money
where your confidence was. And Ryan had won every nice-size bet that he'd
made. 

 Even the one against the favored Miguel.

 The Mick was lucky and smart, but no one was that fucking lucky.

 Speaking of smarts and luck...

 Cyril had won bouts where he was definitely the underdog.

 Cyril had won every one of his bouts.

 Ryan got twitchy every time Miguel brought up the boxing, and didn't want
Miguel personally thinking about it.

 Shit.

 It all added up in Miguel's head, clicking like the chambers of a gun
being loaded. One right after the other.

 Ryan was fixing the fights.

 And he was worried Miguel might figure it out, because he'd been made to
lose himself.

 Motherfucker...

 Before Miguel fully focused on that, he frenetically chased it all the
way down. He needed to think it all the way through. Maybe part of him was
still hoping he was wrong.

 How would O'Reily do it?

 Being in the gym before the fight had to be when he was doing it, or
Nikolai wouldn't have focused on that, and Ryan wouldn't have been so
shifty when Miguel teased about tagging along.

 But how the fuck would he do that?

 Miguel thought about his fight. He hadn't thrown it, that was a fucking
given. He had been *off*, though. He'd started okay, and ending up
spiraling down, losing his moves. He'd attributed it to the rush of
adrenaline, going off his meds cold turkey, and the punches he hadn't
dodged. Boxing put you in a whole different headspace, and sometimes it
was a fucking bad one if things weren't going good for you. But maybe it
hadn't been the natural rush, brutality, and exertion that had fucked with
him...

 Miguel tried to connect his own bout with the gym...

 The water. 

 That was the only thing that was out of his hands and in the gym before
the fight.

 It made perfect sense, especially given Ryan's chosen method of dealing
with El Cid: he'd drugged the cabron. 

 Just like he had probably been drugging the Muslim minutes ago.

 Just like he had drugged Miguel.

 Miguel started to lose himself in the flood of revelations, couldn't find
his footing, couldn't reconcile what he felt about Ryan -- what he'd
thought he'd known -- with the new facts.

 All this time...O'Reily had played a part in his disgrace. Miguel hadn't
lost the fight fairly. O'Reily had made him seem weak. The Irishman had
taken his ability away. There had never been a chance.

 O'Reily had made him lose.

 Ryan had taunted him afterwards, *knowing* that he had been the reason
Miguel had lost.

 MOTHERFUCKER.

 'You lost. I won.'

 Fanning his cash, laughing at Miguel, rubbing it in his face.

 It had happened before their current partnership, before they'd made any
deals. Hell, Miguel himself had fucked Ryan over shortly after. But still,
Miguel had been honest about that. Eventually. Ryan was still hiding this.

 Was Miguel reading everything wrong? 

 The sudden fear rose up in him with the old simmer of anger. What if Ryan
decided to play him again? What if he'd been playing Miguel all along?

 He'd known at the beginning that Ryan was liable to turn on him, but
Miguel started to believe that he wouldn't. He thought he'd seen something
else, *felt* something else from the man. He really trusted the
motherfucker now, but Ryan was keeping this from him. What else had Miguel
missed? What if he was fooling himself?

 Ryan had helped bring Miguel low. Callously. For no fucking reason other
than profit...

 ...unless it had been part of tiburón's plan all along. 

 That brought a whole new spike of fear, one that cut deep.

 Shit. Miguel didn't know what to think, *couldn't* think beyond the anger
and betrayal. The logical part of his brain that told him it had happened
in the past, back when Miguel himself thought nothing of fucking Ryan
over, when they were nothing to each other, was overpowered by the
screaming hurt in his blood. 

 And it did fucking *hurt*. Because Ryan mattered to him now, the way he
made Miguel feel was a needed shaft of sunlight in here, a taste of a kind
of freedom. This shook the foundation of that. It ripped at him, leaving
him scared and vulnerable. Lost. He didn't know who or what to trust.

 This was a shock to his system. It had scared the shit out of him before,
trusting someone as dangerous as Ryan -- but he'd thought he'd moved past
it. 

 Now, all his confidence in his ability to read the Irishman and their
situation was crumbling under the surge of his rushing paranoid thoughts.

 There was nothing but that sting. Ryan laughing at him in his head, as
everything the man was capable of took on a more personally sinister edge.

 'I don't regret a fucking thing.'

 What exactly *had* tiburón done to bring this about? What lengths had he
gone to trying to secure the availability of Miguel's partnership?

 Maybe he'd spent too long in the hole. It was all he felt now, all that
doubt taking over, the darkness wrapping around him, sending him right
back inside that fear.

 Ryan had been there, trying to help him hold on, while Miguel was in the
hole. The quiet part of Miguel's brain tried to remind him of that, but it
was drowned out, consumed by the rush of pain. 

 Ryan had helped speed his fall. Ryan had neglected to ever mention it.
O'Reily was capable of so much shit. Every doubt Miguel had once had about
the man was spiraling back on him in one harsh blow. 

 A stark reminder. 

 He was entangled with a cold-hearted predator. Miguel's life was in the
hands of a ruthless bastard. His life...and rapidly his heart. 

 Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

 His head pounded, heart racing. Miguel felt starkly alone again. For the
first time in a while. 

 Shit. Miguel felt it overwhelming him, clouding him and twisting him, his
control slipping away...but he couldn't stop it.

 Ryan had taunted him. 

 Ryan meant so much to him.

 Ryan had brought him to this. 

 And it may have been one big scheme all along. 

 Miguel could see the possibility of it, could see the twist of Ryan's
hand and mind in the events. Miguel had been shaky with El Norte, secretly
despised by El Cid. Drifting from his boys. He'd been just holding on.
Losing the fight had been one more mark against him. One more thing
shaking him, breaking him. And Miguel already knew Ryan had been behind
the final blow -- El Cid and every fucking guy in El Norte except Miguel
himself being caught with tits. 

 If Ryan had wanted Miguel left with no choice but to join up with him --
it was all right there. It could have been all Ryan's scheme from the
start, and it played out perfectly. 

 Here and now, Miguel wouldn't put it past him. He could *see* the
probability of it. Feel it like an itching burn under his skin. O'Reily
may have been behind it all from the very start to get Miguel to ally with
him, and right now, Miguel couldn't say he wasn't. He couldn't say it felt
impossible. Ryan may have engineered his fall, starting with the boxing,
just to get Miguel vulnerable and within reach.

 FuckFuckFuck.

 Miguel hadn't felt this before. Hadn't had it pointed out just how much
he depended on his shark. How much he took for granted. How much he had
grown to need Ryan. What the other man meant to him...

 The past betrayal stood out sharp and clean, cutting through Miguel's
blood.

 *This* is the man you trust.

 *This* is the man you want.

 *This* is the man who brings you comfort.

 'You lost. I won.'

 And O'Reily had never come clean about it. He was still hiding
it...possibly because it would reveal the start of his plan for
partnership. 

 'I don't regret a fucking thing.'

 All that fear and anger rose back up in a tidal wave....and Miguel was
drowning.

 **

 How much Ryan cared about Miguel was solidly affirmed with a rush of
adrenaline and fear. 

 It was more fucking strange and twisted than a funhouse mirror. 

 Because Ryan had his trust of Miguel confirmed while being shoved against
a wall with bruising strength, a shank held in sight, inches away from his
skin.

 He was shut away in a storage room, experiencing the danger of privacy in
Oz firsthand. Cold stone at his back, heat and rage let loose in front of
him.

 Ryan felt the depth of his feelings for Miguel at the most fucked-up time
--

 -- because it was Miguel's arm crushing his chest against the wall. It
was Miguel's hand holding that shank, slicing through the air, menacingly
breaching Ryan's personal space in pointed confrontation. 

 The hand that had brought a brushfire to Ryan's body, one that spread
straight to his heart, was now threatening to spill his blood. 

 With the scent of stale air, cleaning fluid, and male sweat, Ryan
processed it all, racing on the adrenaline of the moment. Trapped by
surprise. Ryan had trusted Miguel enough that he had let this happen. He
hadn't been watching for danger. Ryan always looked out for danger, always
saw the possibility in a person to harm him, always calculated the
probability of someone coming after him. But he trusted Miguel. And he had
stopped looking, stopped seeing him as a player in the game.

 Ryan keenly experienced just how fucking much Miguel meant to him in that
moment of restraint and shock, because Ryan was scared. Terrified. 

 But his main fear wasn't that metal a few inches away from his skin. 

 He did wonder about it, in the almost hysterical, detached way that came
with an unavoidable threat. Would it be cold? Or was it warm from being
held by that hand, carrying the heat from being tucked away next to that
body while waiting for him? 

 Its presence chilled him with the screaming alarm of his base survival
instinct, with the desperation of one trapped and at a mercy that couldn't
be escaped. But it wasn't the only fear rushing through his veins as he
tried to stay outwardly composed.

 He was scared not just of that blade cutting into him, but of Miguel
cutting away from him for good. 

 Ryan felt full force now exactly what Miguel meant to him, right on the
surface, affirming everything in his heart, because he was more afraid of
losing Miguel than he was of that blade. 

 Not necessarily because he valued Miguel more than his own life, because
he wasn't sure that was true, and he really fucking hoped this would not
be the time he found out. 

 But that shank wasn't more than a vague threat in the hand not bracing
him against the wall. It wasn't even against his skin, being held away
from him. He could also see that the blade was dull. And Miguel was just
holding him there. Ryan firmly believed that if Miguel truly wanted him
dead there would be a scalpel, not a dull shank, in his hand and Ryan's
blood would be staining the floor before he even felt it. So, Ryan wasn't
as worried about his life being in real danger at the moment, not beyond
that visceral fear of having a pissed off predator aimed at you. 

 It was the look in those eyes that Ryan was really afraid of, that sent
that real unshakable stutter of panicked nerves through him.

 Those eyes...

 Miguel was so hurt...

 ...and angry.

 And just a bit past comfortably sane.

 It took Ryan a moment to figure out why...

 He pored back over signs he may have missed because he hadn't been
looking. Situations that he should have been more cautious with...

 "I lost. You won." Miguel spoke finally, right into his face, dark pain
raw in his voice.

 It clicked into place so fast in Ryan's brain that if they hadn't been
breathing so hard, Ryan almost thought he could have heard it.

 The boxing match. Miguel had figured it out. 

 Ryan had known Miguel was smart and resourceful....and *fuck*, Ryan was
having nice thoughts and warm feelings for Miguel even when he was pissed
off and at Ryan's throat. 

 Miguel still hadn't made a further move, just trapping Ryan with the
ripping darkness of those eyes and the hard press of that arm across his
collarbone, blade just dancing around his vision with the movement of
Miguel's other hand as he punctuated his words. 

 Miguel had left word wanting a meet as soon as Ryan had gotten back from
the gym. Ryan had time before Cyril's fight, so he had made sure they met
up immediately. 

 Ryan had been blindsided the second he'd stepped into the storage closet.

 Ryan had been laying low around Miguel because of the boxing. Caution,
and something that may have been the ghost of guilt, had kept him from
bringing it up around the other man. Every time Miguel had gotten close to
talking about it, Ryan had tensed, trying to bury it and move on to
something else. Still, he hadn't originally expected Miguel to take the
discovery this hard. But he thought he heard the reason in that voice, saw
it in those eyes that were darker and more lost than they had been even in
the hole, felt it in the strain of those muscles. 

 Miguel was on the edge because he trusted Ryan as much as Ryan trusted
him. Miguel felt betrayed. Possibly, he was scared of that trust again, of
what Ryan would do with it *now*. Miguel now knew just how badly Ryan had
thoughtlessly fucked him over before. Now Miguel was aware of his personal
experience with what Ryan was capable of. 

 But he also had to know that that was then, and this was now. Miguel
*had* to see it in every move Ryan made. He was safe with Ryan now. They
meant more than any of that shit. Maybe that scared Miguel too.

 Miguel was just afraid again, Ryan could see it in those eyes that hurt
to look at. He had to keep Miguel here with him. Couldn't lose him now.
Ever. Ryan loved him. He felt it clearly in the light of how fucking
frightened he was of losing it now. Ryan couldn't lose how truly good
Miguel made him feel.

 "Don't." Ryan got out through the crush of Miguel, voice rough but deep,
not high-pitched with fear. Trying to break through.

 "Don't hurt you? Are you begging for your life, O'Reily?" There was
strained hysteria barely holding on in Miguel's tone. Fear.

 And that stung. O'Reily. Not Ryan, not even the shark, just another
scumfuck deserving only a last name.

 "If you wanted me dead, I would already be dead." Ryan said seriously,
keeping steady even through rushed breath. 

 Miguel nodded in confirmation, eyes still so dark, hand holding the blade
carrying the tiniest tremor. 

 Shit.

 "Don't be afraid." Apparently, Ryan couldn't shut the fuck up. It's what
he wanted to say. Don't be afraid of me fucking you up again. Of us
fucking each other up. Don't do *this*.

 Miguel just stared at him in hardened disbelief. "I'm not the one with
his back up against the wall."

 Ryan didn't mention that Miguel must feel that way though, if he'd come
to this.

 "But you are the one that feels betrayed." Ryan went with it. Had nothing
much left to lose, except his pulse, but that wasn't going to happen and
they both knew it. The knife was a threat, a prop, not a promise. Miguel
hadn't called the meet here with the intention of killing him, or it
would've happened already. 

 "Don't let that old shit break what we've got going now." Ryan caught
himself at the last minute, trying to make it as innocuous and full of
meanings as possible. He'd almost said don't let this break *us* up. Fuck.


 It got Miguel's attention, but didn't change that anger and shiver of
fear in those eyes, so Ryan decided to fuck it all, having to reach for
the truth out of desperation. Sometimes it was the only thing really
there. 

 Fuck. He loved Miguel. And the words welled up, wanting to break out at
the possibility of losing everything, but that would be the wrong thing to
say. It might be shining out of his eyes anyway, nothing he could do about
that. But spitting it out in desperation hadn't helped him with Gloria,
and he hadn't even fucked her over yet. Saying the words would not help
him here, Miguel hadn't believed in his love before. But at the same time,
he couldn't lose this.

 Ryan paused, swallowing words and trying to think with all that hard heat
that was pressed against him with all that fear. 

 I love you. Don't leave me because I'm--

 --a cold bastard, selfish, (got the devil inside)--

 Don't...please...

 Fuck.

 "...don't leave me."

 FUCK.

 At least only that last part got out. But Ryan knew that if Miguel
actually turned to leave, the rest would follow. 

 That was enough though. It shocked Miguel back a bit. Loosened his hold
and backed him up. He looked like he was spinning out though, not knowing
what to trust. 

 "Leave you? Fuck, you've made sure I'm with you, haven't you?" Miguel's
voice was low and angry, spilling whatever chaos was driving that mind.

 Ryan wasn't quite following it yet, but he listened for clues, letting
Miguel just get it out with the hiss of breath and venom. Ryan took the
opportunity for deep, pressure-free breath at the loss of that crush
against the wall, feeling the soreness left behind.

 "Is that how it went? Huh? You fix my fight. You bring me low. You start
the chain reaction, then you take advantage of it with your 'partnership'.
This all been another one of your fucking schemes??" Miguel was still
illustrating his words with the thoughtless gestures of hand and blade.
Each point a stab at the air. He slipped to pacing in front of Ryan. A
tight tiny line, letting the shake of his anger drive his body as he kept
talking, and Ryan started to see exactly why Miguel was so pissed, what it
was that had brought them here. "You always got a plan, right? Putting
people where you want them. You wanted me alone and with no fucking
choice."

 Oh shit. That was it then. Miguel thought he'd planned it all from the
beginning. He thought Ryan had fixed the fight, planning to separate
Miguel from the herd. He was giving Ryan too much credit, giving himself
too much importance in Ryan's plans at the time. That wasn't what had gone
down. Now if only Ryan could get Miguel to hear that and believe it.

 "Even I'm not that good, Miguel." Ryan explained, a steadily serious
counterpoint balancing the volatile shake of Miguel's uncertainty. 

 Miguel stopped pacing at least, started listening, staring, as he came
back close. "Yes, you are," Miguel stated.

 Well, that was possibly true, but while Ryan manipulating everything from
the get-go was possible, that wasn't the way it had gone down.

 Ryan took Miguel's slightly more steady attention as a good sign. "I
didn't plan it that way. Fixing your fight was strictly for profit, I
didn't think about you at all."

 He hadn't been thinking *that* far ahead, there hadn't been enough
evidence of something like that being a possibility yet. He may have been
thinking of Miguel's ass and the beauty of his tight sweating body wailing
on that bag far in the back of his mind, but there hadn't been a plan to
go after it yet. There had been no scheme to reach out to Miguel at that
point. He hadn't even thought of it, really. Ryan hadn't known the boxing
loss would bring him quite that low. And it hadn't, not really, not until
Ryan had El Norte and the boys busted for tits. But that came afterwards,
and that was a split-second decision after Miguel had helped screw him
while cockily sucking on that lollipop. Calling the guards had been about
paying back El Cid, and Ryan hadn't known Miguel would walk away safely
from the bust. The plan for the approach hadn't started glimmering in his
mind until Miguel had walked past him, having left all his buddies behind
to take the fall.

 Should he lie? It was his instinct. But in this case, Miguel was about to
snap, and all that angry pain was due to lies. Fuck. Ryan took a chance,
holding back his wince at trying more of the dangerous truth. 

 Ryan gave up the entire explanation, laying out his thought process at
the time. It wasn't pretty, but it was the truth. It seemed like that was
what Miguel really wanted. "I didn't care about you either way. You,
personally, weren't a factor -- just your skill. It was only the odds. You
were favored, I wanted cash and a weaker class of opponents for Cyril. You
had to go. It wasn't personal."

 Miguel nodded slightly, tense, but those eyes looked like they were
slowly coming back from the edge, pulled by Ryan's reasoned voice. "You
really didn't start all this shit back then?"

 "No, Miguel," Ryan said, steady and true as stone, wanting Miguel to
be...okay. Willing to repeat it as many times as needed to get through all
of Miguel's confused pain. He needed his words to penetrate Miguel's
mixed-up head. "There wasn't a plan for you. I wasn't trying to leave you
with no choice but to ally with me. Turning El Norte against you was never
my goal. I didn't really think of approaching you until after that,
Miguel, when you escaped the tit bust. I came for you because you were
vulnerable, but I didn't make you that way on purpose. "

 Ryan tried to make it better, keeping his words going. Trying to bring
Miguel back. "I fucked you over. You need payback? Hit me. Beat me to a
fucking pulp to make me pay. I won't lift a finger. I owe you."

 Miguel stared at him a little like Ryan was the insane one, as the hand
with the shank hung loose at his side. After exorcising the hurt fear and
old anger that had driven him here, now he just looked...lost. "I don't
want your blood, tiburón." His quiet voice sounded like it was being
dragged out across broken glass. 

 But it was a good sign, like he'd chipped through the worst of the shit.
So he kept up the reassurances, kept spilling it all, until Miguel really
*heard* it. Anything he needed to do to make Miguel hear him and believe.
Ryan's own breath started to steady, his own fear cycling down. He could
reach Miguel, it would just take some more of that reassurance. As much as
Miguel needed to bring him back from the dark.

 "None of that shit has anything to do with now. Things are different, you
know that. They're sure as hell different for me," Ryan stated
passionately. He knew Miguel felt this. He wouldn't have been so fucking
thrown and angry about Ryan fucking him over in the past otherwise. "I
trust you. I don't trust anybody but Cyril, Miguel. Trust *me* now. This
isn't fucking business. Not for me. And not for you."

 Miguel's pacing had stopped completely, and those eyes soaked Ryan in. He
could almost *feel* that hollow pain in their dark brown depths. "No
regrets, huh?" Miguel's words were almost turned inwards, before he was
speaking solely to Ryan again with the last of that old sting. "Even for
fucking me over and making me lose? You sorry for that?"

 Ryan just stared him down, strident and sure. He wanted the truth? "No."

 Miguel's laughter sounded like choking, as he ran his hand over his hair,
trying to find his footing. Amused and still shaken at the same time.
"Why? Because of the money?"

 "Why? Because of this." Ryan shook his head, voice vehement and not
letting Miguel's gaze slide away, unable to stop his emotion. "Whatever
bad shit happened -- it led to this. Don't even try to fucking tell me you
don't feel *this*."

 He was too far away. There was too much stone separating them. Three
whole steps, which Ryan covered in two long strides to take a hold of all
that pain, soothe it, gripping Miguel's jaw in his hand and pulling him
into a kiss. 

 Ryan expected Miguel to return it with the strength of a reckless shove,
bracing for a kiss as hard as the wall that was no longer at his back, one
that bit sharp and took blood for blood. 

 He was rocked back on his heels by the opposite. Soft like regret,
reminding Ryan of the tremble of the hand with the shank in it. Miguel's
lips brushed over his, making Ryan shiver and give in to the urge to pull
Miguel closer. He needed more, hands firmly cupping Miguel's head as his
lips parted against that uncertain mouth. Ryan tried to show him with just
this. Talking wasn't enough. He took that soft touch of lips and turned it
into steadiness. Deeper than blades could cut. Miguel was right there with
him, seeing the light and meeting Ryan's mouth single-mindedly. 

 Ryan's back did return to the wall with a soft thud, but he barely even
noticed it. 

 After long moments of finding each other again, Miguel pulled back to
take a shaky breath. 

 "I feel it." It was barely a whisper, Miguel's eyes avoiding him with the
words. But he stayed beautifully close, right there where Ryan could keep
him from shaking. "I wouldn't have...I wasn't going to hurt you." Miguel
finally looked at him with that, trying for steadiness. His eyes were
still so dark, full of pained regret now, instead of chaotic anxiety and
anger.

 One problem down. Now they just had to clean up the mess.

 Ryan choked out a laugh. "Of course not. You just wanted to share your
shank-making skills with me, and got overly enthusiastic."

 "No! I...fuck." Miguel sighed out, frustrated, remorseful, and suddenly
desperate for Ryan to understand, it seemed. "I wasn't. I swear. I just...
flipped the fuck out. I was scared."

 "And pissed the fuck off." Ryan calmly added.

 "And pissed off." Miguel conceded, guilt tearing up his face, tearing at
Ryan with those eyes again, but in a completely different way. Shit. He'd
gotten over the anger, but was now left with how far it had driven him. "I
guess I thought that if I had a shank and had you pinned, you might spill
the truth. That you'd be scared too, enough not to lie. Fuck! I'm sorry."
He was slightly frantic still in his apologies. 

 Miguel moved swiftly, a quick slip of the blade to his own wrist right
before Ryan's eyes.

 Fuck!

 "No!" Ryan's exclaimed immediately as he struck out, grabbing Miguel's
wrist that held the shank before he could slit the other one. He clamped
down with all of his strength, frantic himself now. "I believe you.
Don't--you don't have to slice yourself for penance." He said quickly, low
and full of his own fear and desperation, as part of him focused on that
scar on the Latino's face. He was grasping for any words to stop Miguel
from hurting himself for him, thinking this was what talking someone down
from the edge, instead of encouraging them over it, really felt like. It
was a hell of a lot harder. 

 Miguel stopped cold and stared at him. "What?" He looked a little shocked
at that, movement staying stilled, thankfully. "I wasn't going to -- I was
going to show you how shitty the blade is."

 Huh?

 Ryan's thrown cluelessness showed on his face. 

 Miguel just sighed. "Look, trust me." He spoke gently as he tried to pry
Ryan's fingers off his wrist.

 Didn't sound suicidal. He sounded stunned at what Ryan had thought, and
like he was *calmly* trying to explain himself. Ryan let go, slowly.
Keeping careful watch, ready to move again. 

 Miguel moved just as slowly, pressing the blade into the sensitive
underside of his own wrist. Ryan tensed. Trust him. Suuure. Miguel slid
the blade across his skin and Ryan's tension snapped as he quickly
wrenched Miguel's right hand away again. "What the fuck are you doing?"

 "Calm down. Look." Miguel didn't try to throw off Ryan's grip, he just
gestured slightly with the confined hand.

 Ryan looked down at Miguel's other wrist, the one that had just been
under the blade.

 Oh.

 It hadn't even broken the skin, only leaving an angry mark. 

 "The blade is dull as shit, baby. It wouldn't slice dick." Miguel
explained, like he was the one trying to soothe Ryan. He was still shaken
and carrying that deeply remorseful guilt in his eyes though, and it made
his words fracture, vehemently shaky again. "I was...I was fucking out of
control. But no matter how fucking nuts...I would never try to kill you
unless you were coming at me with your own shank."

 "I know, okay?" Ryan said, almost absentmindedly, busy staring at the
mark, reassuring himself that there was no real injury. He'd already known
that Miguel hadn't been trying to kill him.

 "Bruise you, maybe." Miguel tried to joke before he broke again, pressing
close and whispering adamantly. "I'm sorry." Muttering against Ryan's
lips, quiet and slow, moving to repeat the words against Ryan's skin, head
dipping to the crook of Ryan's neck. Like he was hiding there in shame and
abject apology, unable to face Ryan.

 Jesus.

 "It's...it's okay. I forgive you." Ryan choked out roughly. He meant it.
He knew why Miguel had snapped and he believed him. 

 Fuck. Miguel was breaking down, shaking a little. Fucked up and lost in
darkness, reminding Ryan of seeing him in the hole. He was worried about
Miguel's mental state now, about what he would do to *prove* his
penitence. Ryan didn't care about being shoved around and threatened a
little, he just didn't want to lose Miguel to anything, especially stupid
guilt. But maybe this was the purging of that. Shattering, before getting
steady again.

 He felt the warm breath of Miguel's sigh on his neck as the Latino
wrapped his arms around Ryan's waist tentatively. 

 Speaking in Spanish now. Same words repeated. Ryan figured they were more
"I'm sorry's".

 "Stop apologizing. You're starting to worry me." Ryan tried a lame joke
himself, hand going to rest gently on the back of Miguel's neck. Warm
skin, with the tiniest trembles of those words and remorse, felt under his
palm.

 "I threatened your life, mi cielo." Torn and yeah -- fucking dark still,
but slowly moving away from it, just stumbling over what he'd done to Ryan
because of fear.

 "Not really. All you did was slam me into a wall." Ryan shrugged, trying
not to give it any weight, his other arm going around Miguel firmly with
the gesture. It had been jarring and yeah, more than a little fucking
scary, but Ryan knew its cause, and was just glad it had been dealt with.
"You only meant to scare me." 

 Ryan was paying more attention to the end of the sentence, the Spanish
that he had no fucking clue about, but it sounded...fond. Like Miguel was
calling him something that was far from shark. He filed it away even as he
focused on Miguel.

 Miguel snorted against his skin, and Ryan almost grinned in hope.

 "We are so fucked up." Miguel said with a small shake of his head against
Ryan, before he finally pulled back to look at him again. 

 Those dark eyes still held pain, but it was tied up with the strong
emotion held there for Ryan. If Miguel hadn't cared, he wouldn't have gone
over the edge in fear. He cared as much as Ryan did. 

 That was enough.

 Ryan stroked over the long scar on Miguel's face with the same gentleness
he had been using, staring into his eyes. "Yeah, we are." Ryan confirmed,
but it was a whisper. Light, with a joyful edge. Ryan was perfectly happy
with that, because he may be fucked up... but he was in love, too.

 Miguel was resting his head on Ryan's shoulder again, arms loosely
encircling Ryan's waist, hands brushing the wall Ryan was leaning against.


 "So...you expect me to suck your dick to apologize now?" Miguel joked,
still a little fucking unsteady, but greatly improved. 

 And it was *their* joke, mockingly recalling the tease about Ryan's
tendency to go down on Miguel to distract and relax him. 

 Ryan's hand returned to resting on Miguel's neck, stroking softly there
again. "Nah, it's okay." There was laughter in his voice.

 Miguel tilted his head, pulling back a little to give Ryan a look of
disbelief. But there was a nice smile hiding there in the dark. "Did you
just turn down a blowjob? Shit, I must've really scared you." He ended
slightly bitter as the joy drained out a little with a reemergence of that
fucking regret.

 Ryan squeezed Miguel's neck in reassurance, guiding Miguel to face him
fully. "You scared the shit out of me." Ryan said, and he was the shaky
one now, before he made an effort to control himself and steady his voice
as he let his eyes speak too. To show Miguel *what* had scared him, how it
hadn't been the shank. "I need you *here*."

 And that hurt a little to say out loud, even as it lightened something
inside of him. Had to control his flinch again, control his words from
slipping too far.

 He covered it before Miguel could stare at him with those big brown eyes,
figure it out, and start lecturing him about the impossibility of love in
Oz. Because then Ryan would've had to shake some sense into him, and that
could take a while. He could deal with that shit later. "As long as you
aren't waving a fucking shank at me again. Okay? That's not my idea of a
good time."

 Oops. That brought some of that guilt back to Miguel's expression. On the
one hand, at least it kept his focus off of Ryan's admission. Still, Ryan
didn't want Miguel to...break...over what he'd just done. It wasn't the
first time someone had roughed Ryan up. Rightfully, in this case, really.
But Miguel carried everything like that with him, let it weigh him down. 

 "Stop with the tortured look. Let it go. I'm good if you're good." Ryan
locked his gaze with Miguel's. 

 "Ryan..."

 Ryan reached out to clamp a hand over Miguel's mouth before he could
start apologizing again. "Hey, I punched you in the fucking face,
remember? Did I get this bent out of shape about it? No."

 Ryan could feel the quirk of Miguel's mouth under his palm. 

 Much better.

 He slipped his hand away.

 He saw that half-grin return, as Miguel took hold of himself and
forcefully let it go. Better now after all that shit, obvious even in
those eyes. Thank fucking Christ. 

 "Yeah, why *weren't* you more torn up over that, tiburón?"

 Ryan grinned, not answering the rhetorical question, just overjoyed that
Miguel was slowly slipping back to a more even keel. 

 "That was our deal -- tit for tat. I roughed you up, you rough me up." He
mused. The deal had definitely changed, but it was a good tease, and it
worked to further lighten the mood.

 Miguel snorted, his spark of humor still slowly coming back. "I thought
this felt familiar."

 Ryan pulled Miguel even closer to him. To his mouth. The kiss started out
full of soft hesitance again, growing firmer as they felt each other lean
into it. It ended hungry and full of a new surety and reassurance. Felt
like coming home.

 Their mouths parted, but they stayed close. Their bodies leaning
together, resting against each other. Ryan kept up that idle caress over
the curve of Miguel's neck, slower now, slipping down over his shoulder
and back up. He just watched those eyes, listening to that breath even
out. Watching the newly steady calm take the place of the chaos.

 Ryan's caress slipped down, over Miguel's arm, coming to stroke his
fingers gently over that fading red scratch on Miguel's wrist. Barely a
mark. On a whim, driven by the small pang of relief at the thought of what
that mark could have been with sharper metal, Ryan lifted Miguel's marred
wrist to his mouth. Gentle kiss to the thin heated skin, right there on
the underside of his wrist, feeling Miguel's steady pulse under his lips.
He wanted to...obliterate that mark. Wanted to open his mouth just enough
to drag his teeth over it, to suck, and turn it into a pleasant bruise. 

 But into the quiet of their moment shut away, caution intruded. Couldn't.
A scratch could be easily explained. The marks Ryan wanted to leave, at
wrist, and even across strong collarbone, and gracing the curve of throat,
could not. Ryan resigned himself to letting the mark of metal stay, ending
the soft press of his mouth. He gave in just a little, parting his lips at
the last second, gaining taste on the tip of his tongue and leaving
dampness. But no mark.

 Miguel was quiet, keeping that gaze on Ryan, still soaking him in, making
him feel like marks were being left on *him*. But when Ryan let his wrist
go, Miguel curled his hand, keeping it at Ryan's face. A caress of
knuckles brushing gently over Ryan's jaw in return for the kiss. Ryan's
head tilted into the touch, before Miguel's hand left his face and went to
his hip, steadily intimate. Sharing calm reassurance with touch, unable to
voice it.

 Miguel turned serious after a moment, and Ryan felt the soft clench of
Miguel's hands over his ribs in their idle caress. "Stanislofsky made a
move."

 Time for the rest of their reality again. Ryan focused his mind on the
world outside of the dingy closet, still keenly aware of Miguel here with
him, keeping up that close contact. It made it easier to think sharply.

 "What? When?" Ryan hadn't noticed anything when he'd gotten back from the
gym. The bout was fucking soon though, and the Russkie could've sabotaged
it somehow.

 "Before. He tried to get Murphy into the gym in time to catch you spiking
the spritzers."

 Damn. Miguel had figured it all out. Good for him. And Nikolai was what
had led him down the path. 

 "That cocksucker." Ryan exhaled between his teeth, thinking, before he
focused back on Miguel. "You stopped him." Ryan figured, the words
containing a congratulatory gratitude.

 "I stopped Murphy." Miguel clarified, before he continued. "I had to
plant myself in front of him and run my mouth to delay his departure. It
worked though, right? He catch you?"

 "Nope." Ryan half-grinned. "That explains why he showed up right after
I'd finished, though."

 "He suspected you were up to something, but if he didn't get any proof it
just makes you look clean and Nikolai look dirty. I know I'm definitely
not on his list of favorites now. I think he's pissed at me, and he may
think I'm fucking insane." Miguel finished with amusement.

 Ryan leaned in for another series of kisses, murmuring against Miguel's
lips. "Gracias...gracias..." Ryan dropped the word with the light damp
touch of his mouth. Over and over. Like the spill of apologies from
Miguel's lips earlier.

 Miguel had saved his ass. And Cyril's. 

 And putting to rest all that anxious fear of Miguel's made them more
steady. More real. Miguel could be more comfortable with how fucking deep
they were inside this, each other, now. Ryan wanted to stay here just
kissing the fuck out of him, lost in his heat, for the rest of the day. 

 Couldn't.

 "Mmm..." Ryan pulled back reluctantly, slipping his hands off of Miguel
with a last stroke. "The fight. I have to go." 

 Miguel nodded and slid his hands off of Ryan in turn. Ryan missed the
touch, feeling the slight intrusion of the cold with its loss. 

 "I've got a meet with Pancamo tomorrow to make peace." Miguel informed
Ryan before he left.

 Good news. Ryan had been waiting for that, seen the threads of it weaving
together. He nodded tersely, focusing on that plan coming to an end. "You
need anything from me?"

 Miguel shook his head. "It should be okay. I'll have my own muscle with
me. Signs are good."

 Things should work out perfectly. Pancamo was looking to form a truce,
Miguel would give him that, making sure his leadership of El Norte was off
to a steady, safe start.

 "I'll keep my ear to the ground." Ryan assured. "Drop me a message to let
me know when and where."

 "If you don't hear it first." Miguel added lightly.

 "We'll have to figure out how to deal with Nikolai." Ryan added, getting
another nod from Miguel. The shit with him was proof that it was a good
fucking thing he had Miguel on his side now. Ryan would've lost Murphy's
support, and possibly more, if that cocksucker's plan had worked.

 "We will. Now go win." Miguel stepped back, motioning towards the door.
"I still don't agree with you fixing the whole fucking thing. Ain't right,
baby. It's supposed to be a sport, a challenge." He seemed serious about
it.

 Ryan paused for a second. "I did it for Cyril."

 Miguel raised an eyebrow. "I know you. That may be one reason, but it was
definitely the money too, baby."

 He'd told Miguel that, but Miguel had been so fucked up, Ryan hadn't
known if it had penetrated. Apparently, it had.

 "And the money." Ryan admitted again.

 "Now that's what I'm talking about. Honesty. So refreshing." But the
words were more teasing than bitter.

 Miguel would be okay with this.

 Of course, if Ryan lied to him again, his cat may claw him up.

 Ryan stole one last kiss before he was softly grinning his way out the
door.

 ~ Chapter 17: Shark Infested Waters ~

 Miguel stuck around a few minutes after Ryan left the storage room first,
giving Ryan plenty of lead time and trying to think. Miguel made his way
straight to his pod after he finally left. Well, he'd listened to the
grapevine for a second, long enough to confirm that the boxing match was
starting and Ryan was there. He'd wanted to make sure Ryan was okay and
things sounded good.

 Reassured about that, he sequestered himself, feeling like part of him
had been hollowed out. He passed the tiny mirror mounted above his sink,
unable to even look at his reflection.

 What the fuck had he just done?

 Miguel slammed down onto his bunk, wanting to feel it rattle his bones.
Flexing his hand, he felt the sting and burn of minor injury, seeing the
streaks of drying red splashed across his knuckles. He'd swung his bare
fist at the wall after Ryan had left the storage room. He'd wanted to feel
the pain, needed to release all that fucking anger. 

 The anger that was directed inward.

 How had he slipped that far away from himself?

 Sure, doubting O'Reily's word and plans was just plain healthy. But
Miguel *knew* he meant something to the other man. Even Ryan wasn't that
good of a fucking actor. Miguel had thrown him against a wall, pinned and
crushed him, all threat and fearful fury --

 -- and Ryan had just calmly spread himself open in front of him, spilling
words and looking at Miguel like he *mattered*. All Ryan's intensity
focused on him, for him.

 Miguel should have just talked to the guy. Maybe punched him. But Miguel
had been so fucking lost; it had taken him right out of himself. All that
shit he'd been burying since the hole, all that chaos hiding in the
corners of his brain, had rushed up and overwhelmed him, driven by stress
and paranoia. It had been like he was right back there -- nightmares
becoming reality. He hadn't been thinking, just spiraling out of control,
on auto-pilot. He'd grabbed a shitty dull piece of metal that hadn't yet
been sharpened to do damage and gone to get Ryan alone. To...

 Fuck.

 He didn't know what he'd planned to do.

 Yell at him. Vent all that old bitter anger over losing the bout at its
deserved target.

 But in the moment, he'd mainly just wanted to know...

 Know that it was real. That he wasn't fucking crazy. That he wasn't
alone. That whatever the fuck it was he felt was actually there, and that
what Ryan seemed to feel for him wasn't all an act. 

 He'd been so fucking scared that it was. That he was just fooling
himself. Afraid that the old O'Reily, the one taunting him cruelly and
laughing at his failure, wasn't dead and gone when it came to Miguel, that
he was just a bug caught in a web. He'd also been reeling from the fear
that his entire downfall had rested on the shoulders of the man that had
come to mean something to him.

 Maybe he had been a bit fucking freaked out at what he actually felt for
the other man, too. But of all the fucked up things Miguel had done, all
the things he'd felt since being in here, all the things he would've
thought he would never do -- whatever the fuck he'd found with Ryan was
the most sane. The only good one. 

 Feeling shit for a guy? What was that compared to spilling innocent blood
and taking a man's sight? Being with another fucking guy, even caring for
him, didn't seem so crazy in comparison. It wasn't the bad, unnatural
thing he'd always thought it would be. At least it didn't feel that way,
and that's all he had to go by in here. Your gut and your heart had to be
clung to and trusted if they woke up at all in this shithole of numbness.
It felt more natural than he could've imagined after avoiding it for
years.

 Maybe that was another thing that had made it frightening. 

 Not anymore, now that he'd felt what was more fucking scary -- the
thought of losing it all. Losing this ability to feel, this connection
that brought comfort, heat, and something like rest. Losing Ryan.

 Miguel roughly thumped his head back on the pillow, rubbing his face. He
was still a little pissed about Ryan fixing his fight and laying him low.
That shit...really was fucking infuriating. But any further urge to vent
it physically after slamming Ryan around and scaring the shit out of him
had been drained out by Ryan's offer to *let* him do it. He'd heard Ryan
tell him to take a swing at him, to beat the shit out of him, and seen on
the Irishman's face that he meant it. That he would take it to put things
right, knowing what a fucking bastard he had been. 

 Miguel hadn't been able to. His lingering justified anger wasn't that
strong against the man he knew now. He was pissed at an O'Reily that was
partially gone, at least in the sense that he didn't do that shit to
Miguel anymore, even if everyone else was fair game. He had known back
then the way that Ryan was. It had all been part of the game Ryan always
played, it was the way he ran his shit, and back then Miguel hadn't had
the part in it that he did now. Ryan had kept his word and earned his
trust since. Being pissed at the way Ryan had treated him in the past was
something...different. That Ryan had been just another motherfucker in Oz
and that was the way shit went. O'Reily fucked him over, Miguel fucked him
over, that was the way it worked in here. That anger somehow didn't really
carry to what they had become, especially after Ryan's behavior now. 

 Ryan had been there. Calm. Trying to hold Miguel together, trying to hold
them together, and that shit had shocked Miguel enough. Ryan hadn't denied
anything or tried to defend himself. He'd just laid himself bare. Showing
all that emotion that still stunned Miguel a little when he was faced with
it.

 And Ryan had forgiven him, easily, because the shit Miguel had pulled
there in that storage room didn't even matter to him, whereas Miguel
himself apparently did. Even the admittance that Ryan didn't regret
fucking him over was a dulled sting. Because Ryan had kept up that brutal
honesty about it...and made it clear why he would never regret it --
whatever they had found mattered more to Ryan than how they had gotten
there. And he hadn't even tried to hide that fact. Miguel hadn't asked,
but he knew the answer would've been the same if he had asked Ryan if he
regretted Miguel fucking him over by siccing El Cid on him. That mattered
more than old slights that were just part of life in Oz.

 Miguel could hold a grudge with the best of them, but some shit...it just
begged to be let go so you could let in the light.

 Miguel's loss of control was another slight regret added to his burden,
another hurt at almost causing someone he fucking cared about pain. But
fuck...after all that chaos, he'd left that room with the sweetest taste
of that mouth. The taste of forgiveness, assurance, and all those scarily
good feelings that had slowly come to life. 

 Miguel's brooding was interrupted by a soft knock on his pod. He focused,
looking up to see the other manipulative devil of Oz, one Miguel didn't
feel any good shit for -- Stanislofsky. 

 Shit. 

 What did that motherfucker want with him? Miguel didn't want to deal with
his shit, but he was tangled up in it anyway. He had to find out what the
man wanted and what he knew. Miguel gestured to him, giving him the okay.

 Stanislofsky cracked open the door, just enough to lean in and speak.
"Alvarez, may I enter?" It was a deferent act. Nikolai was carefully
affording him the respect due a leader.

 Thankfully, Miguel was in the position of not having to return it. He
shrugged. "Whatever."

 Stanislofsky slid in, closing the door behind him. "We should talk."

 "Oh, should we?" Miguel mocked slightly with a raised eyebrow, still
lying back casually. Yeah, his leadership position definitely had its
perks. He kept the slightly bloody state of his knuckles carefully hidden,
while still appearing casual. Didn't want to show anything to this man.

 "You are a straightforward man, I appreciate that." Nikolai continued
that Russian accented patter of respect and slithering manipulation. "Now
that you have been promoted, deservedly so, you may have been approached
by less than straightforward people."

 Miguel snorted at his deceptive, cautious way of speaking that took
forever to lay the groundwork before getting to get to the fucking point.
Ryan used to try to do that with him, what seemed like a long time ago.
Now the Irishman got right to it, being much more focused on touch and
using their time more wisely. 

 Miguel thrust his chin out at the man playing at O'Reily's moves. "You
admire me being direct, right? Stop dancing then. What do you want?"

 Stanislofsky nodded, gauging Miguel's impatience. "I want nothing. Except
to warn you of things I have noticed about our fellow men."

 Jesus, it was still like pulling fucking teeth. Miguel idly wondered if
throwing *him* up against a wall would get results. 

 "Oh yeah, what things?" Miguel kept it gruff, all steel and stone.

 "This place is full of devious men." Stanislofsky paused.
"Like...O'Reily, for example. He is not a direct man."

 Finally. Show me your cards, baby. He had to figure out just how this
cocksucker had connected them. The Russian must've done it somehow if he
was here bringing O'Reily up out of the blue. Nobody else had picked up on
them being allies yet, although they weren't going to hide it anymore. It
was supposed to look new and not too deep, and Miguel had to see if this
other shark knew too much.

 "No shit." Miguel deadpanned. "I know how slippery that fucking Mick can
be. But I ain't got no beef with him." Miguel was careful -- draw Nikolai
out, leave things looking like he wasn't loyal to Ryan. Now, if only the
cabron would get on with it and show Miguel what he wanted.

 "That is the observation of an intelligent man: caution around an
untrustworthy one." Stanislofsky paused after the 'compliment'. "I can see
that you are not his enemy at the moment. Every new leader needs allies.
It's wise to make them. In fact, you paid him a favor today, no? I only
worry that it may not be what you think. Maybe...he is misrepresenting
himself. That is the way of some men."

 "Favor?" Miguel kept casual, playing the man's game. He certainly knew
how, after dealing with Ryan. His stone face was his biggest asset here.
Internally, he was less calm. 

 This was why Stanislofsky was here. He had figured out that Miguel had
fucked with his plan to sic Murphy on Ryan. How much did this cocksucker
know? At least he hadn't pegged how deep their alliance ran, and thought
it was something just developing.

 "I noticed you waylaid Officer Murphy after I voiced my concerns." 

 Bingo.

 "I suddenly needed to schedule some time with the nun." Miguel deflected
steadily, but he made it obvious by his unwavering gaze and the hollowness
of his words that they both knew what was up, without outwardly admitting
it. Speaking in the hidden language of saying things without really
committing to saying them.

 "Of course." Nikolai said with that smooth fake grin, acknowledging that
Miguel wasn't going to give up any more information, or truly admit it at
all, but that he wasn't really denying things. "Your business is yours, I
respect that. I only wonder -- my concerns about O'Reily may also be your
concerns. He keeps many people in the dark. You were a participant in the
boxing, yes?"

 "Yeah." Miguel kept his smirk off his face. Yeah, Nikolai was trying to
lead him to the discovery of what he'd already figured out. The Russian
thought Miguel was a shiny new dupe, roped into protecting Ryan by the
slick Irishman. 

 "It was a great surprise that you lost. You are very skilled. You were
ill, no?"

 Nobody thought he'd been sick. They'd just taunted him for sucking.
Stanislofsky must've thought Miguel was pretty fucking dumb to need such
big clues. Or he thought Miguel had thrown his fight. Miguel let enough
emotion show in his tone and on his face to make it clear that wasn't the
case.

 "I had an off day." Miguel tensed slightly, just enough doubt and old
bitterness barely showing in his cloaked voice. Letting Nikolai lay out
those clues, pretending to pick up on them, while still keeping up the act
of not acknowledging things out loud. Exactly the way the man would expect
him to play it, because you didn't voice such things to just anybody. It
was better to play this game. Say one thing, mean another, to give you
wriggle room later and hide any weakness.

 "I think many men had off days. Pancamo, I hear he blamed his loss on
being drugged."

 Nikolai believed Miguel had been unwittingly drugged then, which was the
truth, instead of thinking he had been in on it. And yeah, the guy
definitely thought he was an idiot. Miguel hid his desire to roll his eyes
at the giant strokes the Russian thought he needed to fill in for Miguel
to connect the dots.

 "Yeah, well, the wops are sore losers." Miguel stated darkly, staring his
little birdie down.

 As he kept up the speak-no-evil routine, he made sure it was clear he was
'figuring things out'. And getting pissed off at Ryan about that. The
whole conversation was in that code of wariness, posturing, and caution,
but they were both passing on the information they wanted to. He made sure
the Russian saw him processing it properly.

 Nikolai merely nodded when he saw that he'd given Miguel enough info,
hands up in an innocent gesture. "I see you are on top of things." The
Russian probably thought he was so fucking smooth, having planted the
seeds. "If we should turn out to have common concerns -- common enemies --
you know that I am an honorable man, yes?"

 "Yeah." Miguel said dismissively, like he was lost in his head. But not
angry or disrespectful, still keeping to what was expected.

 He needed to keep things open with the Russian, in case he and Ryan
decided to use Miguel to play him that way. Stanislofsky left, with a
respectful good-bye of course, thinking his job there was done.

 *

 Cyril won the fight in a big upset. Miguel quietly collected his money,
acting surprised, and made sure to shoot a thoughtful look towards
Nikolai. 

 He got his hand cleaned up before Ryan got back from the fight, figuring
it would be best if the other man didn't see it. If Ryan noticed it was a
little raw and bruised sometime later, he could always say he'd been
hitting the bag too hard.

 He wouldn't get to talk to Ryan until the next day, anyway. He got to
lock eyes with him discreetly in the dinner line though, as Ryan slopped
food onto his plate. Ryan had his game face on, but that gaze still
focused on Miguel in a way that made everything inside of him quiet down.

 He somehow ended up with an extra orange on his plate, too.

 **

 Ryan was perched on his top bunk, legs swinging freely over the edge, as
he messed with the laces on Cyril's gloves, making sure they were good.
Cyril was reliving the fight, shadow boxing against the wall at the end of
the bunk beds.

 Yeah, tonight would be a stressful lockdown for Ryan. Cyril was so
fucking pumped. But Ryan wanted to let him have his moment of glory, let
him bask in his confidence. Cyril needed the boost, the feeling of
strength, after all the shit that had happened to him in this hellhole. It
was good to see him this way. So, Ryan smiled indulgently and played
along, miming taking a powerful hit whenever Cyril shadowboxed in his
personal space.

 "Yo, Rocky, put these up." Ryan called eventually, tossing Cyril his
gloves.

 Cyril quickly shifted to catch them, breathing heavier from his play. It
was going to be fucking impossible to get his ass in bed tonight.

 "I'm the champion, Ryan!"

 Ryan smiled softly. "Yeah, you are." He paused for a second, watching
Cyril dutifully put his gloves in his trunk, before he continued more
seriously. "And that's a very good fucking thing. I told you that you
could do it." Ryan pointed at him, needing him to get that. 

 "But the fights are over now, you know that, right? You can't be punching
guys in the middle of Emcity." Ryan caught himself after a second. "Unless
they touch you first. Which shouldn't happen now, because you've got the
rep of being the champion, okay?"

 "I know, Ryan. No fighting all the time." Cyril did stop messing around,
plopping down on the chair near the end of the bunks. Thank Christ. 

 Ryan hopped down from the top bunk to lean against the bed frame next to
him. "I'm proud of you little bro." Ryan congratulated again, reaching out
to rub Cyril's shoulder. 

 It didn't mean anything to Ryan that his little brother had won because
Ryan had fixed the fight, overthrowing that confident killjoy Muslim Khan
effortlessly and impressing everyone. It was the win that mattered. What
it meant for his standing, his protection, how it made him feel. Cyril
would never know how things had really gone down, and that's the way it
should be. Even Khan hadn't figured it out, returning to praying and
glowering like his Muslim leader predecessor, without any real protest or
anger, just spewing some shit about the will of Allah.

 Cyril returned the congratulation with a fist bump, before he got that
look on his face. All of him concentrating, like he was thinking of
something else. "Are you still getting help from your friend?" 

 Ryan blinked at the subject, but grinned a little afterwards. "Yeah." He
contemplated whether or not to continue being somewhat honest with Cyril,
and decided it was still something he wanted to share, making it worth the
risk. Cyril was the only person he could tell. 

 Cyril looked pleased at his answer. "Good. You needed someone to help
you."

 What was it they said? Out of the mouths of babes?

 "Is that why you were upset?"

 Ryan tilted his head, trying to put the simple questions in context.
"When?"

 "When we were being punished. You paced a lot and you seemed sad."

 Oh. The lockdown. With them trapped in a room together for a week, he
should've known Cyril would pick up on his worry and his missing Miguel
while the Latino had been in the hole.

 "Yeah...I was worried about him." Ryan picked idly at his blanket, still
leaning casually against the bed frame. He liked being able to talk about
this and the way Cyril was accepting it. Sure, Cyril didn't know the
details, but if he knew how Miguel made Ryan feel beforehand, Cyril might
not freak out when he found out what exactly was going on.

 And he'd just let Cyril know his friend's gender. That should be okay,
though. There weren't that many women around anyway, so even Cyril had to
know it might be a guy, and Ryan hadn't said anything about *how* his
friend was helping him.

 "Why?" Cyril asked, dismayed. "Is he okay now?"

 "Yeah, he's good, just like us. He's a little fucking pissed at me right
now, though." Ryan mused with a low regretful laugh, running his hand over
the top curving metal frame of the bed.

 "What did you do? Did you do something bad?" Cyril asked sternly, staring
him down.

 It made Ryan chuckle softly again. "No...well, yes, but it was before we
were friends."

 "You should apologize." Cyril declared seriously, with a nod of his head.

 Ryan hadn't done that, but that hadn't been what Miguel had needed. That
wasn't what he'd been after. He'd needed to know he could trust Ryan now.
He'd needed...reassurance... that Ryan felt what he did.

 "I did." It was mostly a lie on the surface, but Ryan couldn't explain
exactly what he'd done. It was a lie that got the true point across -- he
had tried to make things good with Miguel. 

 "If he likes you, he'll forgive you."

 "I think he did." And that wasn't a lie.

 "I forgive you when you do bad things to me." Cyril said, trying to
comfort him.

 It hit Ryan right in the gut, stinging like a sucker punch. The statement
was fucking painful, even though Cyril hadn't meant it to be. Because it
was true. 

 Ryan slid closer, crouching by Cyril's chair, squeezing his little
brother's shoulder again, hand slipping up to cradle his face. "I know.
I'm sorry, Cyril. I love you. You know that, right?" His voice was quietly
thinner, just keeping out his guilt.

 Cyril reached out, giving Ryan a reassuring squeeze in return. "I know. I
love you too, Ryan." Cyril barely paused for a second, before he asked
another guileless question. "Do you love him?"

 SHIT. 

 It took everything Ryan had to not register his shock and spill too much,
thoughts of his relationship with Miguel rushing through his mind. Cyril
didn't mean *that* kind of love, it was obvious by the innocent way he'd
said it. Ryan wasn't even sure if Cyril grasped the difference completely.
But still...fuck, that was close.

 "No, we're just friends." Ryan answered, and he just barely kept from
betraying a shake to his voice at that lie, eyes darting to the floor.
He'd almost said yes.

 "So?" Cyril questioned, confused, like he didn't see the contradiction. 

 Yep, didn't grasp the concept then. Or he thought Ryan was talking about
the other type of love, the kind the brothers shared. Either way, Ryan was
safe for now. Until he was prepared to tell Cyril what was really going
on.

 "I care about him." Ryan confirmed, moving to sit on the bottom bunk,
turning to talk to Cyril, who was still in the chair. This was as far as
he was going to go for now.

 "Does he love you?"

 It was a good thing he'd sat down.

 Ryan shook his head slightly. "No...definitely not."

 Well, Ryan knew Miguel felt things for him, even if they weren't quite
the same. They might actually be, but Miguel didn't believe they could
find that in Oz. He wouldn't admit it. In the end, as long as Miguel
didn't start acting stupid and try to push his feelings down or pull away
from him, Ryan didn't really care about the denial. They were just words.
Nice, but not necessary. Ryan could see it and feel it anyway. He'd
dissuade Miguel of his dumb fucking notions of love eventually.

 "Is he mean to you like Dr. Nathan is?" Cyril seemed ready to defend Ryan
at that thought, even as he sounded sorrowful.

 Ryan grinned sadly with his own regret over Gloria and Cyril, shaking his
head again. "No. He cares about me too."

 That was all Ryan gave a shit about.

 **

 Miguel noticed something as he made his way to the classroom for the
meet, with Vasquez at his side, right after breakfast the next morning. He
was keeping his eyes out, being cautious, but the gathering easily caught
his attention even without that.

 Ryan and his boys were staged. The clump of watchful Irish was near where
the meet was going down. Far enough to not encroach, but close enough to
intercept anyone leaving or entering. They looked like they were in a good
spot to send a runner to alert the guards if they had to. 

 That wasn't the whole surprise. The Irish were set farther off -- 

 -- the Homeboys were closer. Adebisi himself was leaning against the
railing, looking amused, toothpick in his teeth, looking like he was
itching for a fight. He winked at Miguel as they passed.

 Shit. Ryan had given him a hell of a lot of backup. And no one else would
really know that's what it was. Everyone would think they were just
hanging around to catch the show.

 Miguel steeled his spine to meet Chuckie and his man, safe with his own
hermano at his side and his unexpected crowd in the wings. El Norte was
going to play it the safe, sane way, already having spread the word that
they were disavowing involvement with El Cid's crazy-ass actions. 

 Miguel was on his way to make the peace, assure El Norte's safety, end
talk of war, and cement his leadership.

 It had all gone according to plan. Fucking amazing. Now it was time to
finally finish it so they could start living for the future, under the new
world order he and Ryan had created.

 *

 Ryan was relaxed back in the plastic institutional chair to watch the
epilogue to all the shit they'd stirred up. Cyril was across the table
from him, spinning a magazine again. It looked like Ryan was mainly just
watching his brother in a bored, detached fashion. Cyril was a blur of
blonde hair and the line of the moving magazine, but Ryan was focused
farther ahead, past his little brother and an inch to the side, on the
classroom a little ways off and one story up. 

 Liam was staring at his own magazine beside him, half-entranced, but
half-dutifully ready to focus at any cue from Ryan. Colin was across from
Liam, currently reaching across the table to dip the magazine down towards
him enough to catch a glimpse. All of them just waiting, playing casual,
but prepared to block anyone from the stairs or draw the attention of the
guards, depending on what situation arose. 

 Miguel entered the classroom under Ryan's watchful gaze. He checked on
the homeboys, looking up to Adebisi's languidly predatory lean against the
second floor railing. Adebisi rolled his gaze down to Ryan for a moment,
toothpick arcing up a little between his teeth as the big Nigerian checked
in, before returning to watching the classroom with that same bemusement.
He was swaying a little to some fucked-up internal beat. 

 Liam batted Colin's hand away as he turned the page. 

 "Wasn't done." Colin protested mildly. 

 Miguel was safely inside the classroom, with that big, silent, cousin
It-looking Latino at his side. Things looked cool. Tense, but Pancamo and
his boy weren't making a move, just waiting for Miguel to take a seat
across from the head Wop. 

 Ryan snorted at Colin. "And you were reading what exactly? Do they come
with jokes printed on their tits now?" 

 "Seriously, deal with my page turning pace. It's naked pussy, but it's
not your girlfriend -- I want to see the rest. You're seeing them fucking
upside down anyway, why so interested?" Liam added teasingly, flipping the
page. 

 "I don't know, it's kind of interesting looking at 'em this way. Changes
things up." Colin commented, leaning forward across the table a little to
see the pussy in the magazine better, still getting an upside-down view,
carefully not blocking Ryan's covert view of the meet. 

 Ryan laughed with Liam at that. "Good point. I'll have to remember that.
Spice things up." 

 Their boys standing at their sides, Miguel and Pancamo were talking,
looking serious. It was hard to tell at this distance, couldn't see their
expressions, but body language alone was enough to calm Ryan. Things were
going fine. Another darting glance to Adebisi confirmed his observation,
because the blood-hungry Nigerian looked bored. 

 "You can't have my magazine. I'm busy," Cyril chimed in, still spinning
it on his finger. 

 "Thanks, but yours is National Geographic, Cyril. That's okay." 

 "I like the big cats." 

 "Of course you do, little bro. They're graceful, cunning fucking
animals." Ryan reassured him. "You wouldn't like Liam's kind of magazine,
it's fucking boring." 

 Liam laughed at that. "Yeah, and your big brother knows his shit when it
comes to that. He spends a lot of time looking at them." 

 Ryan smirked, lightly punching the arm beside him. He kept his visual
attention on the meet though. 

 Miguel peppered whatever he was saying with fluidly strong, graceful
gestures, which Ryan might have stared at even if it wasn't all about
business. From here, it looked like the man's own inner rhythm come alive
and keeping beat to his words. Pancamo mainly sat like an ugly fucking
bump on a log when he spoke. This was just ceremony. Ryan had heard the
gossip, had his finger on the pulse of power in Emcity. The Wops would
make peace. Miguel's leadership was being taken favorably. 

 It was all fucking perfect. Better than he hoped. He was here keeping an
eye, ensuring backup, but he knew Miguel could handle himself well. 

 He could handle Ryan too. Watch his back, satisfy his mouth, set his skin
on fire, and make his heart *feel* things that weren't numb, or hurt, or
hollow. 

 Ryan had strength at his side, and a sharp mind working with his, which
was expertly soothing that strain of day-to-day life in here. Stopping it
before it cracked him with slow wear and tear. He could lay out his plans
and watch Miguel absorb them, sometimes tweaking them or just helping by
being someone he could tell them to. Just what he'd wanted, and more. That
mouth talking shit out, perfecting it, or even just rambling about things
that had nothing to do with schemes. He listened to Ryan's rambles and
divergences about everything under the sun in turn. Their conversations
were a whole different kind of entertainment, beyond survival and
business. 

 All that energy keeping up all those fucking moves was fed and tended by
someone else now. Woven together perfectly and spread out. Wider reach,
stronger foundation. Survival felt smoother and more assured. Ryan had
always been able to handle it, but there had never been any rest before.
No joy in the gritty grey living he was maintaining. No room for a deep
breath. Now there was. He had life instead of just pure survival. 

 Assured of the meet's safety and predictability, Ryan glanced around to
catch anyone else who had their attention aimed there. He was keeping a
sharp eye out for Stanislofsky in particular. That motherfucker had
stepped up the game. Tried to catch Ryan in a web and trip one of his
steps. 

 They still had one up one him. Well, two. Nikolai was good, but Ryan was
better, so he had always had that on his side. But now he had the
advantage of Miguel too. That Russian cumstain didn't have a clue. Miguel
would be there to catch Nikolai in their own web as soon as he got close. 

 The Russian wasn't showing any interest in the meeting of the Spics and
the Wops though. He was aware of it, that much Ryan knew. But he wasn't
watching it. Him not watching Miguel that closely was a good sign. He'd
eyeballed Ryan earlier, but Ryan's presence could be read a number of
ways. It didn't really give his alliance with Miguel away. For all Nikolai
knew, this was just Ryan directly repaying the Latino helping him out
earlier. A one shot deal. Or Ryan could be there just to gather info and
watch the fireworks. Nobody in their right mind would assume Adebisi was
there to really protect Miguel. Guy just liked fights. 

 Things with Stanislofsky weren't dire yet. There was still plenty of room
to maneuver. Ryan wanted to let it play out for now. They had a handle on
it. 

 "Can I borrow that?" Ryan snapped the magazine out of Liam's hands before
he received an answer, smirk still friendly. "Thanks, pal." 

 Liam let him have it, smirking wryly himself, burying laughter. He was
proving a good possible right hand. Right hand in the Irish, that was.
Miguel was his true right hand, in more ways than one, but that was
something between them, encompassing so much fucking more. It had nothing
to do with this kind of simple gang thing. The Irish were something
different entirely, ties of blood and power. Liam was better than Kirk,
that red-headed bitch was useful, but a little too snaky and dangerous. 

 Liam slid forward on his arms a little now that he was deprived of his
reading material, stretching. Ryan could tell he was keeping an eye on the
classroom upstairs now. Taking over from Ryan without being asked, as Ryan
flipped through the porno mag. 

 Liam's voice pitched low, full of admiration. "El Cid is gone cuz you
wanted him out, right?" 

 Liam and the rest of the Irish had helped, but he wasn't required to tell
them what they were helping with in the big scheme of things. They spread
the gossip he wanted, they knew El Cid was on his way out, but he hadn't
come out and said it was his plan. 

 "Now, if I did something like that, would I really admit to it?" Ryan
answered idly, attention on the magazine. 

 Colin snickered off to Ryan's other side. He was helping Cyril look
through his nature magazine now, telling him the facts he couldn't read in
a quiet voice. 

 "El Cid being gone solves a couple problems for us. Nothing big, but he
wasn't on our side. Him taking a dirt nap and the Spics getting new blood
-- luck of the Irish." Ryan added, gracing Liam with another smirk and the
brief focus of his gaze. 

 Liam grinned. "Yeah. The new guy going to be more friendly and helpful to
us?" Just wondering, not plotting. Genuinely curious. 

 "I think so." Ryan said, feeling his pleasure but not letting it show too
much, grinning down at Miss January, even though he wasn't really seeing
her. 

 ~ Chapter 18: Working Out Is Clean Healthy Fun ~

 Ryan sauntered into the gym while he was working out. Miguel was setting
up to do bench presses, alone in the gym until Ryan's arrival. 

 He hefted the last weight onto the bar and secured it, as the bar rested
in its place on the arms of the bench, before turning his attention to
Ryan. It was still a little cold, so Ryan was wearing that grey sweatshirt
again, but it was unzipped and loose this time. Miguel wasn't wearing a
sweatshirt; working out in a sleeveless tee was his nod to the chill. Ryan
grinned a little when he spotted him.

 "I hear things went good with the Italians?" Ryan asked as he continued
his stroll towards Miguel, clearly knowing the answer already. "Ahh, peace
at last." Ryan offered the commentary with arms outspread in a sarcastic
gesture.

 Miguel smirked. "Of course you heard, you were close enough to take
fucking dictation, tiburón."

 An exaggeration, but Ryan *had* been perched right there. He'd seen what
went down. He had definitely been close enough to read the situation.
Miguel had felt the assurance of Ryan having his back. He'd known the
Irishman had been there for *him*, not just to pick up information or feed
on the pieces like carrion if things had gone wrong.

 They hadn't. Smooth as silk, everything had slid into place. The meet had
been the easiest fucking part of the whole thing. Each side on their best
behavior, trying to avoid war. Not because they would mind spilling each
other's blood, but because a war would mean loss of profit and a long
fucking lockdown. Everyone wanted to just go back to their usual,
*profitable*, antagonism. A few words with the wops in that classroom, and
they'd worked things out. El Norte was distanced from El Cid's actions and
safe under Miguel's rule. Just like they'd planned from the start. His
shark knew his shit. 

 Miguel was finally safe, or as safe as a motherfucker got in here, and
had hope again. All because Ryan had cornered him when he was weak and
drawn him into this. Something that had started out so fucking bleak...had
turned into a blessed ray from the sun.

 "Had to take every precaution," Ryan stated seriously, the ghost of worry
there proving Miguel right about the Irishman having been there for
backup.

 "You know shit is bad when that motherfucker Adebisi is a 'precaution'."
Miguel joked.

 Ryan went back to grinning. "Yeah. He had your back, though. If only
because he hates the wops more than your amigos, and wouldn't mind their
asses gone. I think he was disappointed that there wasn't any bloodshed."

 "We alone?" Miguel asked, considering changing his weightlifting plans
with Ryan's unexpected arrival. There were better ways to work up a sweat
and keep warm, especially now that another weight had been lifted off of
Miguel's shoulders. He was in a better fucking mood than he'd been in a
long time.

 Ryan shook his head, a wryly displeased look on his face. "Unfortunately,
only at the moment. I didn't make any arrangements."

 Weights it was then. Miguel nodded and sat down on the bench, back to the
bar. Ryan strolled past him as he laid back. Miguel saw him sit on the
next bench and pick up a barbell. 

 Miguel exhaled as he reached up to graze the bar with his fingers, not
picking it up yet. They couldn't fuck around, but they could talk until
someone came in. Miguel still regretted the other day, roughing Ryan up.
Not trusting him. Ambushing him. Ryan seemed fine with it, and they'd put
it to rest...but this was the first time they'd been alone since. Miguel
needed to make sure he really hadn't fucked things up. He had to say it
one last time, purge the last of his guilt, make sure his amends had been
enough, even if he had to stare at the ceiling while doing it and his
voice came out haltingly quiet and rough.

 "I'm....sorry about --"

 He looked over as Ryan waved him off, hefting his barbell in one hand,
working out his arm mildly. "I know, gato. I told you to stop apologizing
already. It's done."

 Miguel snorted, hopeful, but slightly doubtful deep down, a tiny bit of
leftover worry. He stayed just hanging on to the bar, not hefting it yet,
gaze back to the ceiling. "So you're just okay with it?" A lot of fuckers
would hold a grudge.

 He heard the thunk of Ryan putting the barbell down, looking over to see
Ryan's gaze focused on him. "I fucked you over in the past, you got scared
about where we are now, and rightfully pissed-off about back then. You
went a little loco, but no damage done. We're good, Miguel. Aren't we?"
The mild question came with a tilt of his head, eyes more piercing than
the tone of his voice.

 "Yeah. It won't happen again." Miguel said meaningfully, the words a
pledge. 

 That shit -- he'd let his head get all fucked up and his fear take over.
All those whispered doubts from the hole had hit him full force, not
liking being pressed down so quickly for sanity. He'd tried to rush the
transition too fast, with too much stress. It had bitten him on the ass.
Broken him. 

 Venting it all by snapping had been fucked up and crazy, but it got the
job done. Just not in the best way, or the one he would have chosen.
Miguel felt calm now. Assured. He never should've done that to Ryan, but
at least it had allowed him to finally put all that behind him. 

 He trusted the man, full stop. He was going to go with that now. Fuck
anything else. No more of that paranoid scaredy-cat shit. He knew what he
felt. He knew what he saw when Ryan stared at him with those eyes and
spoke to him in that oddly soft voice. Ryan was in just as deep as him,
just as afraid of losing whatever this was, and the Irishman was dedicated
to hanging on to what they'd found. Like Miguel was.

 Ryan considered Miguel's words, studying him briefly, and accepted it.
Must've seen the truth. He nodded firmly. "And I won't fuck you over
again. That's all in the past. I told you before and I fucking meant it --
we have something different now. I know you feel it, just like I do."

 Miguel nodded in turn, a little taken aback by that passion again, before
leaving that behind. Because he could hear the truth in Ryan's repeated
words. It was a rare thing, but Ryan *meant* what he said to Miguel. He
was probably one of the few people on the planet that Ryan did that for,
and Miguel wouldn't fuck with that again. Especially since he'd heard the
tinge of joy in the emotional adamancy of the last part, Ryan making it
clear that it was something important to the man. That Miguel was
important, the person that brought out that rare emotion. 

 "Yo, come give me a spot." Miguel proposed, lightening the mood, reveling
in it a little, showing Ryan that things were good.

 Ryan grinned, with a little bit of relief springing to life at the return
of their easy familiarity, and Miguel *knew* they were solid. Ryan
strolled over. Miguel tracked the movement as best he could, until Ryan
was standing above him, at his head. Ryan's fingers danced along the bar,
brushing across his own light grip with casual heat on the cool metal.

 "You sure you can handle it?" Miguel teased as Ryan stared down at him.

 Ryan's eyes narrowed. "Gee, I don't know. I might slip and accidentally
crush your smart ass." He made it clear that he was joking with Miguel,
playing along.

 Miguel just snorted in amusement, before he focused and hefted the weight
up off the bars. Ryan carefully kept his hands half curled around the bar
near the middle, ready to take the weight if Miguel faltered.

 He didn't. He felt his strength as he pushed the heavy bar up, only to
bring it back down. He had a nice fucking view too, as he fell into the
slow steady rhythm, feeling the powerful stretch and burn of his muscles.
Ryan was right above him, standing so fucking close. 

 Which placed Ryan's package right above Miguel's head, the center of his
view, practically close enough to touch. The slight bulge -- the line of
the Irishman's balls and cock, lax at the moment, all tucked away behind
cloth and zipper, right above Miguel's gaze. Jesus. 

 Ryan was staring down at the coil and stretch of Miguel's muscles with
mild sultry interest, adding to the slight buzz of working out. That
appreciative gaze watching his body was another pleasant burn. Miguel was
almost thrown off by Ryan's mouth parting slightly, tongue tucking between
his teeth in distraction, causing Miguel to carefully focus on hefting the
bar before Ryan's heat fucked him up. 

 "About Adebisi," Ryan spoke after a few minutes, looking down at Miguel
with consideration now. Miguel just nodded tensely for him to continue as
he worked his muscles, pushing the heavy weight back up with a steady
exhale. "I know you don't like him--"

 "And you do?" Miguel cut in rhetorically before Ryan could finish, using
the moment of steadily bringing the weight back down. All about strength
and control. He loved the feel of it, conquering it, building himself up,
burning with energy. Exhilarating, even as it drained you.

 Ryan just twitched his shoulders in a shrug, careful to keep Miguel's
spot, with a quirk of his lips that wasn't really a smile. Like he maybe
did like the crazy fucker a little, against his will. He continued what
he'd been saying. "He can't be trusted. But don't worry -- he doesn't know
everything that went down with El Cid. He knows I backed you to lead, that
you didn't like him, and you aren't going to be mourning the death or
holding a grudge. But he thinks you were in the dark about how far we were
really going when we engineered his death. He thinks me and him were the
ones really manipulating the situation, and just using you."

 Miguel nodded, with a smirk, feeling the sweat starting to prickle
against his skin. He was keeping quiet count in his head as he continued
doing the bench presses, keeping carefully aware of how his muscles felt,
his breath, how much longer he could keep up. He was still good. It was
still just that nice strain and pressure. He'd probably do about ten more
then quit. 

 "He'll know we're forming more of a partnership now though, right?"

 Ryan nodded. "Mm-hm. That was part of the plan. My excuse for wanting you
to lead. But he doesn't have any fucking clue how big a part you played."
Ryan paused as he kept following the movement of the bar, hands still
feather-light on it. "Oh, and if he mentions us fucking? Be careful how
you react."

 Miguel's grip on the slick metal bar slipped a little, stunned. "What?!?"


 Thankfully, Ryan supported the bulk of the weight, his hands steady on
the bar between Miguel's unnerved ones, while staring patiently down at
him, only showing a hint of strain from the surprise catch as he kept the
bar safely braced above Miguel. 

 "He knows?!"

 "Of course fucking not." Ryan sighed, like he was talking to Cyril,
frustrated slightly by trying to support the bulk of the weight. "Trust me
-- no clue. But that won't stop him from saying it just to get under your
skin. Adebisi likes to talk shit, just to annoy people. He says
everybody's fucking. Doesn't mean he really thinks that, he just likes to
tease. And he won't figure us out -- unless you react like that." Ryan
finished with a raised eyebrow, gaze fixed down on Miguel still.

 Miguel calmed down at that, his hold steady again, taking back control of
that heavy weight, relieving Ryan. If Ryan wasn't concerned, Miguel had no
reason to be. 

 "Just act like he's crazy and tell him to go fuck himself or something.
You know, react like you would if he messed with you about anything that
wasn't real. Don't give it any weight." 

 Miguel nodded, filing that away. It was a good fucking thing Ryan had
warned him.

 "He says everybody's fucking, or he says that *you're* fucking
everybody?" Miguel teased lightly, back to lifting the bar without
trouble. He was definitely done now though. He placed it back up with one
last press, setting it in its hold.

 Ryan's mouth twisted a little at that, gaze weary, getting tired of that
particular taunt it seemed. "Very funny. I'll say it one last time -- very
few, Miguel. I can count the guys I've let touch me on one hand."

 It was Miguel's turn to raise an eyebrow, just lying on the bench now,
staring up at Ryan. Miguel still had that spectacularly interesting view.
The dick in question right there.

 Miguel had to ask, even though he sure as hell knew he shouldn't. His
mouth went and did it anyway. "You and him?"

 Ryan grimaced, sighing like he was exasperated by the absurdity of the
question. "Do I look loco to you?"

 Miguel stared pointedly for a second. Ryan possibly was loco, just in a
highly organized, sharply cunning way. Plus, given the advice Ryan had
just given him on how to deal with such accusations, that wasn't the most
promising response.

 Miguel sat up, reaching for the towel he'd placed nearby to wipe off some
of his sweat. He found that this conversation was easier to have when his
back was turned to Ryan. "That didn't answer my question." His voice was
pitched low, as he stared in contemplation at the stone floor. He wanted
Ryan to answer, but he didn't really expect him to.

 Ryan stayed quiet behind him for a moment and Miguel just let the silence
breathe. 

 "You really want to know?" Ryan asked finally, his serious voice cutting
through the air in the huge room.

 That sounded a hell of a lot like a yes.

 "Yeah." Miguel answered, turning to look at Ryan.

 He still had that serious, mildly displeased look on his face, like he
was thinking about it. "Not for a long time."

 Shit.

 "You've been partners with him since before the riot, right?" Miguel
asked, keeping his shock and the fucking jealousy off his face. It was the
least of the things he could think to ask, the most innocuous one, just to
keep everything else at bay.

 Ryan shook his head, but it was hard to tell if it was yes or no. The
Irishman moved from behind him, walking to the bench across from Miguel to
sit back down there. Miguel watched him the whole time. 

 "That's a whole different kind of partnership, gato. It's not like us,
not even remotely." Ryan said fervently, leaning forward, towards Miguel.
He paused again as he studied Miguel, returning to coolly casual. "I only
fucked around with him twice, anyway. Back in the beginning, after I'd
gained his respect. But then I didn't let him touch me after the riot. He
stared at my ass too much. Too dangerous. If I'd let it keep up, we
wouldn't still be working together. He'd be too fucking difficult to deal
with."

 Shit. Miguel just nodded gruffly, trying to wrap his head around it,
while somehow trying not to fucking think about it at all at the same
time. This was what he got for fucking asking. 

 Ryan must have sensed his turmoil. "Besides, it wasn't something I even
enjoyed that much." 

 Miguel's gaze was pulled back up at that, locking on Ryan. "You had to?"

 Ryan smirked, but he looked a little offended at the mere thought. "No.
Do I look like a bitch to you? If he'd tried that shit, he'd be dead. And
I may have let him stare at my ass when I was trying to get him to work
with me, but I don't ever let anybody touch me just to get them to do what
I want. That's not the way I work. I've got plenty of other powers of
persuasion. I only ever fuck because I want to." Ryan stated firmly,
before continuing more idly. "I just wanted some release, and I knew I
could get him to jack me off without me having to do much in return. It
happened when we were fucking high, and I backed away from that shit
afterwards. So, he doesn't suspect me of fucking with guys now that I'm
clean. I let him think it was a truly fucked up, out of the blue, brand
new thing for me. He thinks he was the one that took advantage of my
altered state."

 Ryan had actually answered. Honestly. Amazing. It seemed to really be the
truth. The graphic truth, which was a little disturbing, but eased
Miguel's mind in the end, as long as he could keep the visual out of it.
It also meant that Ryan had used that particular power of persuasion on
Miguel only because he'd wanted him. Which was a twisted fucking ego
boost.

 Miguel decided to press his luck. "What about Beecher?"

 Ryan paused for a second, like he was considering whether to really give
up the stories. He answered again though, still sitting calmly across from
Miguel, observing him. "No."

 "Really?" Miguel phrased it as idle curiosity, devoid of disbelief, just
wanting more information. He actually believed Ryan, given the way he made
the hard declaration. He was just wondering why Ryan had refrained. He
remembered them being close, and everyone knew Beecher was willingly
fucking with guys now. And he had a feeling Ryan actually liked the guy in
a weird way, from the way he talked about him when he came up.

 "I mainly hung with him our first year. Touch him with that motherfucking
Nazi raping him? No fucking way. I didn't even try. He was too messed up
to want it. I wouldn't do that to him," Ryan finished quietly.

 It was also spoken confirmation that Ryan hadn't forced the guys he had
messed with, whoever the rest of them were. Which...yeah. Had to go there.
It was like a scab he had to pick at. His curiosity and odd desire to know
overrode his discomfort at having names and faces, and fucking hands, to
place with Ryan. Asking for a list of names probably wouldn't net him
anything though, so he tried to narrow it down to the more specific
questions that had garnered answers. Ryan's blushing Irish tag-along
sprung to mind.

 "You fuck with any of your amigos?" He kept the question calmly
undemanding, pure curiosity, knowing that he was pushing it. For some
reason he couldn't peg, Miguel suddenly just needed to know Ryan hadn't
fucked all his Irish boys, the men he could be close and friendly with in
public in ways he couldn't with Miguel. Well, he could be friendlier with
Miguel in public now, but that was beside the point.

 Ryan must've sensed that need of Miguel's, because he didn't put up a
fight even though it clearly wasn't a line of questioning he enjoyed. He
was staring at Miguel like he mattered again, answering just as calmly
after a moment. "Only one and he initiated it. Otherwise I wouldn't have,
because that shit would just cause problems." He paused. Yeah, Ryan wasn't
fond of this conversation. But he kept going. "Kirk."

 Miguel tried to place the name.

 "Redhead. He's in Unit B now." Ryan supplied enough details to help him
remember. And then he supplied more than Miguel fucking wanted. "He's got
a thing for giving head. He offered, more than once. It was something he
wanted to do for me."

 Shit. Maybe this was Ryan's subtle price for the information. Laying it
all out, the cold details. You want to know, you take all of it. He wasn't
saying it with venom though, not to wound. Ryan's voice was quiet and
serious. Mild and dispassionate explanations about things he obviously
didn't really want to talk about, only given up because Miguel had asked.
Maybe Ryan wanted to see if he'd react badly. That might be part of it,
given the way Ryan was watching him. Miguel kept calm, not showing
rejection or disgust. He just nodded in acknowledgement of the honest
answer, grateful for it. It was slightly disturbing information, given the
parties involved, but that was partially possessiveness. None of it
mattered now.

 Miguel couldn't figure out who he wanted to picture Ryan with less, that
big Nigerian, or that sneaky little devil-headed Irishman. Neither was
appealing. He pushed it out of his mind. That was all in the past. Ryan's
passions lie with him now, and this wasn't some drugged out or sucking up
encounter availed of only because it presented itself, and that was
obvious from the focus of that gaze.

 Ryan stood up after the last answer was processed, like he was ending the
conversation. Miguel let him, still surprised Ryan had given anything up.
Besides, Ryan was moving closer, not farther away, and that was all that
mattered. Miguel slid back in his seat, towards the head end of the bench
where the weight was resting, to make room for Ryan as he settled down on
the other end. They were both straddling it, facing each other. Closer now
because they were sharing the same bench, more comforting and intimate.

 Miguel changed the talk from Ryan's past indirections, oddly pleased that
Ryan had actually finally let him know at least some of his history. He
doubted the Irishman had told any other soul any of it. His jealous itch
was thankfully fucking quieted down by the way Ryan had spilled it and the
way those green eyes had been looking at him the whole time. 

 "You get my note about your Russian?" He shifted away from it like it
didn't matter, without further comment, because in the end it didn't. Back
to keeping Ryan safe instead.

 Ryan nodded, a much more menacing grimace on his face at the mention of
the man, his voice going dark. The conversation held his pure interest
now. "Yeah. He came to you? What does he know? Fill me in." Ryan chewed on
his lower lip, his mind probably searching for a path to something painful
for Stanislofsky.

 "Things don't look too bad, don't worry. He doesn't seem to really know
dick about us." Miguel tried to reassure him off the bat.

 "Yeah -- doesn't seem to. But he's like me, gato. If he's really
connected us, he wouldn't let us know how much he knows."

 Miguel smirked. "Yeah, he's like you. And I fucking know how to read you.
Sometimes, anyway. I can read him. He knows we're allying now that I'm
leader, but he thinks it's new. He only saw me stall Murphy, and he's
fucking guessing from there. He's trying to get me pissed off at you so we
don't hook up. He didn't even know I had already figured out the fucking
boxing."

 Ryan relaxed a little, that glint in his eyes. "Ah, good. He drop enough
information for you to figure it out?"

 "Yep. Clues so big your little brother could fucking piece it together.
He just saw a chance to turn me against you and took it. He doesn't
realize how close we are." Miguel kept talking, letting the truth of that
last sentence just exist, speaking for itself. "He must really not like
your ass if he'd try to get me on his side against you, though."

 Ryan nodded in consideration; he looked less worried now. "We can use
that. How'd you leave it?"

 "I know. I left it open." Miguel assured him. "I wasn't nice to the
cocksucker, but I let him think I was figuring things out, and that I
didn't trust you."

 "Good. If he thinks he might be able to use you as a patsy, that'll
help." Ryan mindlessly tapped his fingers on the bench. "We should let it
simmer a few days. Wait until he approaches you."

 Miguel nodded. "That's what I figured. How far should I go if he
re-approaches? Should I act like I want your ass dead?"

 Miguel figured that would be a bit much. It would be a quick way to find
out how immediately dangerous of a problem Nikolai was going to be,
though.

 "Mm...probably not. He might just try to pay you to kill me if you do
that."

 Jesus. 

 "I don't think he's looking to go that far yet." Miguel pointed out. If
it turned out to be that bad...well...somebody was definitely going to end
up dead. And it wasn't going to be him or Ryan.

 "Me neither. But if somebody like you falls in his lap, offering, he
might not turn it down." Ryan said, not seeming overly concerned for his
immediate welfare though. Nobody in this joint had the fucking balls or
reason to just airhole somebody like Ryan like that. Even if Nikolai got
it in his head, he'd have to seek it out, and it wouldn't be easy.

 Still. Didn't want the Russian cocksucker trying anything like that any
time soon.

 "You think he's going to make that kind of move on his own soon? Because
if you think he's a threat, baby -- he's gone. "

 Ryan smirked a little, leaning back. "Gone?" Faux innocence and confusion
in his voice just to tweak Miguel.

 Miguel refrained from rolling his eyes. "I'm just saying, if you think
he's something that needs to be taken care of quick, we don't have to do
your usual elaborate shit."

 Ryan still seemed mildly bemused, even as he was taking Miguel seriously
and thinking. "What happened to mi gato who doesn't airhole guys himself?"

 That was a completely different situation. This was some cocksucker enemy
of Ryan's that Miguel had no personal ties to. He let that show with his
nonchalance.

 "He ain't my blood. He don't hold any of my vows. He ain't dick to me.
Besides, the man doesn't have any friends that are going to be mourning
him or looking for blood and the hacks won't connect me. I'm not you,
tiburón. I don't mind getting my hands dirty when it's easier. I'm fast,
I'm good, and I won't fuck it up." Miguel added the last part pointedly.
If Ryan was holding off because he thought Miguel couldn't do the job
properly, that would just piss him the hell off.

 "Oh, I know you can do it, and it would be fucking simple. If we have to,
I'll take you up on it." Ryan assured, pleasantly confident in him, as his
grin teased the corner of his mouth. "But I think we're good for the
moment. I don't want unnecessary blood on either of our hands. That'll be
a last resort. Let's just play it out and see." The way Ryan said it, it
was clear it wasn't a conscience speaking, but a sense of practicality and
caution. Miguel's shark didn't care about spilling blood, he only cared
about it being traced back to them, more annoyed by the hassle than the
fallen bodies. "When he comes to you, act pissed at me and willing to
double-cross me, but make some shit up about not wanting to airhole me.
You know, something like: you want to keep your hands clean and stay out
of the hole, it's too dangerous, you don't have enough cause to deal with
the mess of going that far...you have a conscience." Ryan added that last
one with a teasing smirk.

 Miguel sat up straighter, closer to Ryan, playing mildly defensive. "I
*do* have a conscience."

 "Sure you do, you're Jiminy Fucking Cricket." Ryan said with a wink.

 Miguel snorted, amused rather than offended at Ryan's tease. Despite his
previous offer to just take the Russian out himself, his tiburón knew he
had rules that the Irishman didn't, rules that had caused Ryan grief
before. "That make you Pinocchio? Because your fucking nose would be long
enough to reach the end of the earth by now, with all the lies you spin."

 "It's not my nose that's long, Miguel."

 Miguel ignored the cheesiness of the leering comment, following where it
led instead. He stared Ryan down with purpose instead of registering a
reaction to the bad joke. 

 Ryan was leaning back, propped on his elbows behind him, leaving his
pelvis cocked a little, legs spread as he straddled the bench. On display,
without even realizing it. Not purposeful, just natural. Ryan's body
speaking its own separate language, wanting.

 Come closer. Touch me.

 Miguel couldn't help but listen. He reached out, letting his hand drift
up Ryan's thigh, skimming over worn material covering lean muscle. Slowly
moving up, feeling the thick seam of the pant leg running under his
fingertips. 

 Ryan didn't stop him, just tilting his head in amused, questioning
approval. Miguel's fingers spread over his thigh, and Ryan's lower lip
tucked into his mouth. A tiny sign of pleasure.

 Miguel followed the seam, the line of his body, that hungry spark coming
to life in Ryan's eyes, feeling the rough fabric worn soft covering Ryan's
leg. His journey stopped with Ryan under his hand, touch curling around
the heat behind that fabric, cupping that soft bulge under his palm.

 Ryan's head tilted back with his hitch of breath, exposing the line of
his neck. Miguel heard him catch that breath before Ryan spoke,
practically feeling the unfulfilled desire of Ryan's hips wanting to roll
up into his touch. 

 "Can't here." Ryan's voice was as husky as his breath had turned, frozen
there, even as he gave the caution.

 "I know." Miguel was keeping an eye on the entrances. He couldn't stop
the brief rub to that heat under his hand though.

 It was fucking worth it for the soft gasp it got him, those hips finally
giving in to a tremble, cocking up further into the touch, legs spreading
wider. Ryan's neck still arching back, Miguel could see his beautiful
strain in the line of pale throat.

 "There's a storage closet between here and Emcity." Miguel pointed out,
unable to move his hand off of Ryan.

 Ryan nodded, lip tucked back into his mouth, as he locked his burning
gaze back on Miguel. 

 Ryan's lower lip was reddened and damp when he spoke. "We go together.
Now."

 *

 They snuck down the hall, all wariness and heat. Carefully keeping apart,
even though he could *feel* Ryan near him. Thankfully they made it without
running into inmates or guards. Miguel loved the fact that most of the
guards in this shithole didn't give a fuck about doing their jobs
properly. 

 They stumbled into the storage closet, pressing together in need of
contact, kissing hungrily as soon as the door closed and locked, not
noticing their surroundings other than the important fact that they were
alone. Ryan's back thudded softly against the wall, finally stopping their
steps.

 Slow. The only thought in Miguel's head beyond the need to touch and suck
and kiss.

 He ran his hand down Ryan's side, under the grey sweat-jacket, feeling
heated skin through the thin white t-shirt Ryan wore. His hand clutched a
hip just as Ryan gave into the need for a soft thrust, allowing Miguel to
feel that muscle and bone straining towards him in search of friction.
Miguel pressed into it, riding the slow confined rub of that growing
stiffness with his own. 

 He pushed at Ryan's unzipped hoodie, urging him to shed it. Miguel missed
Ryan's hands on him during even that brief moment, before it fell to the
floor at their feet.

 Slow. Even as their mouths met fast. Breathless and almost clashing, but
falling into each other's rhythm, stroke of tongue and feel of lips,
enough to make it perfect. 

 Miguel's hand slid back down confidently, cupping Ryan's half-hard dick
through his pants with the firm assurance of their privacy. Didn't have to
hold back now. He could rub nice and slow, feeling that outline he had
been staring at during his workout, bringing Ryan to full hardness in his
hand. Dragging out the burn with long sucking kisses and the press of his
body as Ryan's husky breaths and roaming hands brought Miguel right along
with him. Fuck, he needed this, here in the cramped darkness, like he
needed fresh air and sunlight.

 They just played with the smooth friction of bodies and touch for a
while, because the lazy spread of smoldering heat felt so fucking right in
the moment. Hips cocking, riding each others movements, a thigh
occasionally pressing between legs and right up against stiff dick. So
easy to lose himself there in the slip and rub and the --yess, right
there-- rhythm. 

 Miguel felt Ryan's heavy pulse under his tongue as he traced his throat
with wet kisses, and decided it was time for more, even as he kept up that
pace that was thickly slow and smooth as honey.

 He felt each tooth of the zipper click down on Ryan's pants. Finally
slipping his hand into stifling heat, thin cotton under his palm again,
but this time with that hard heat waiting right underneath. He slid pants
and boxers down enough to leave Ryan free, turning even that into a
caress. Could've just pulled him out of the boxers, but he wanted those
extra inches of skin, for Ryan to have that extra breeze of air. That
feeling of exposure. 

 He slid his touch back up Ryan's bare thigh, finally taking Ryan's cock
in his hand. Slow, Miguel stroked, driven by Ryan's mouth devouring him,
hand running over his hair, clutching him close. Languid slide, drawing it
out. Just like Ryan liked sometimes. Ryan's breath was hitching in
approval again. His gasp-shiver-thrust right fucking there against Miguel.

 The rough tug on Miguel's pants that followed was even hotter. Ryan's
hands followed that indolent beat, drawing dull nails over his hip, moving
down to finally take him out. Ryan's hand slipped over his cock, only to
line them up, press them close. Instant stimulation, pulse magnified.
Carnal touch of dick sliding along dick as Ryan got an overlapping grip,
joining him, grazing Miguel's own hand on Ryan's cock.

 Oh fuuck, that was a nice little tweak on things. Joined together,
slipping side by side. Miguel followed Ryan's beautiful lead, wrapping
around them both, stretching his hand wide. Figuring out how to work this
new hot friction to best effect, stroking together, hard heat against his.
Sliding in mutual need, finding a rhythm together, fingers brushing and
mingling. 

 Miguel's stroke was off a little, wanting too much, too fast, stuttering
Ryan's. Ryan bit his lip and brushed his fingers over Miguel's hand, still
wrapped around hardness.

 "S..Slow." The directive husked out of Ryan's mouth on a gasp.

 Miguel had to follow Ryan when he sounded like that, like he was lost in
getting off. Pure fucking need. He was slipping his stroke slower to move
fluidly with Ryan's before he realized it. Firm grip, pressed right up
against Ryan as they continued the drawn out slip of friction together.
Both of them moving. Cock to cock, encircled by hands synching perfectly,
it was hard to tell what hot, needed touch belonged to who. Didn't matter.
Jerking off each other, together. Like one cock and one hand, but more
with tight heat, more contact. Wrapped up in it. 

 Mmm...needed to be wetter.

 Miguel contemplated the tried and true basic jack-off methods of spitting
in his hand or licking a palm. That seemed a shameful waste given what was
available.

 Reflexively biting his lip at the loss of stimulation, his hand
reluctantly left those strokes. Slipping easily to his knees, he felt the
thud of the solid ground and didn't waste any more time. Ryan's cock slid
past his lips, wrapping around the hard strain of it. Slippery wet was his
goal. Ryan slid over his tongue, filling his mouth, as Miguel used his
saliva as lube. Engulfing Ryan, getting him as wet as possible, dirty and
sloppy, focused on that purpose. 

 "Ohhh..." Ryan, above him, clearly hadn't expected that.

 Miguel's plan had just been to give them some slick to slide on -- but he
was starting to rethink things with the roll of Ryan's hips into his
mouth. Ohh, he needed to touch, his dick begging for the return of contact
at the feel of Ryan and the hot hushed sounds he was making. Miguel
reached down...

 ...but Ryan's slightly shaky grip suddenly appeared on his shoulder,
tugging him up. The boy was insane. Still, owner of the cock got to
choose. Miguel let Ryan's dick slip from his mouth, and pulled himself
back up, using Ryan's body, groping along the way. The brush of returning
contact, more hint and promise than friction, brought an instinctive small
thrust from both of them after he stood. 

 "You're turning down a blow job, again? Should I be worried?" Miguel
teased breathlessly.

 "Mmm...want you--and your mouth--here." Ryan answered, voice rough, as he
demonstrated with a firm kiss, feeding that slow consuming heat, fingers
playing along the back of his neck, sliding up into his hair. Ryan's other
hand wasted no time sliding back over their dicks, positioning them to
regain that hot press of flesh.

 Miguel's hips moved into it at the first slide along Ryan's saliva-slick
dick. Fuuuck. Much better. Miguel took a moment to just rub his cock
against Ryan's, getting some of that slick for himself, before their hands
went back to encircling each other, finding that perfect rhythm together
again, naturally. Back to the slide of palms and rough brush of fingers,
all with that tight slither of cock against cock just adding to the
sensation. All wet friction and nerve endings stroking each other to life.

 Ryan was driving that languid movement, taking control of the pace, his
free hand pulling Miguel's face closer, a clutch on his jaw, capturing him
in one long wet kiss that just slid into the next, drawing everything out
in an unending, graceful tangle of wet-hot-more. 

 Deeper, never letting it stop, everything connected. The scrape of teeth
over his bottom lip matched the rub of a thumb over the head of his cock,
Ryan's mouth tugging at him with that same sweet, bone melting pleasure as
their hands. 

 Fuck, Miguel was starting to see the beauty in "slow". Who wouldn't want
to just settle and wear a groove here, milk this beautifully building
ache? 

 As Ryan's mouth kept up that spreading heat, nipping moistly along his
jaw, Miguel felt the light caress of Ryan's thumb over his bottom lip. A
light lick of his tongue over the rough pad compelled it into his mouth.
Miguel licked and sucked without thinking, liking the feel of Ryan in his
mouth, something to stroke with his tongue. A complement to the rock of
their hips and that slick rubbing stroke surrounding his dick. He
half-imagined he felt the twitch of Ryan's cock along his, but it may have
just been his own shiver, shared, as Ryan's husky breath groaned into his
ear.

 Ryan slipped his thumb out of Miguel's mouth, hand moving down -- only to
slip under and up Miguel's shirt. Tiny grazes of dampness teased over his
skin as Ryan made his journey up Miguel's chest in the close quarters
under his clothes. He definitely had a goal, finally rubbing the still
lightly damp pad of his thumb over Miguel's nipple.

 Not wet enough to do more than tease, an echo of the deliberate hot
slickness of their dicks. Ryan kept up that slow rough rub of his nipple,
a nice spark to the building ache tugging at his cock. 

 Miguel's breath started to slip from him in grunts as slow slid along,
gaining speed with a beautiful fluidity. Strokes keeping pace with the
need pounding in his blood, with the gusts of Ryan's own husky half-moans,
Miguel's fingers dug into the small of Ryan's back, pulling him closer,
guiding him into it. 

 They both got lost in all that delicious contact still slipping against
their palms and pressing together. Their mouths found each other for those
drawn-out kisses, the drag of teeth and tongues, when the stroke of their
hands left slow in the dust, flowing together in that hungry heat coursing
through him, letting Miguel feel it all, ride it out. Beads of sweat
formed on the small of Ryan's back under his fingertips. 

 Ryan's body pressed close. Ryan's hand with his. Ryan's cock. Ryan's
mouth. Tangled together, overwhelming. Miguel came first, the stroke of
their hands inescapable, feeling that shudder against his. Fuuuck. He felt
the pulse of rigid cock right there with the milking of his own, the
splash of heat as Ryan came. He gave over to the slow heat finally
coursing through him with that delicious burn, draining him. 

 Their broken strokes tapered off after they were left panting, hands
slipping away from cocks, sliding up under shirts and over sweat damp
torsos. His muscles feeling fluidly slack and his body unsteady, Miguel
melted into Ryan, who had also slumped down a little against the wall,
reaching around Miguel even more in loose-limbed support. Absorbing each
other's heavy breaths, they came down together. 

 Too soon to move. Much nicer here. Warm and lax, even if that slick had
given way to slightly sticky.

 Maybe this was their version of make-up sex. Or late celebration. Miguel
didn't give a fuck, just liked feeling that body against his, happy
knowing now that Ryan was with him, steady by his side. 

 They had to physically part soon though. This wasn't scheduled, and it
wasn't as safe. 

 "We have to get back." Miguel husked out with a meandering open-mouthed
kiss over Ryan's throat, his body refusing to move away. It seemed much
smarter than his brain at the moment.

 "Uh-huh." Ryan agreed unconvincingly on a slow exhale, arms still just
wrapped around Miguel, half under his shirt. Their pants were still
undone...and nobody was moving to take care of that either.

 Miguel stayed collapsed there against Ryan. Had to catch his breath and
cool down a bit, right?

 The oddest shit popped into his mind after he got off sometimes. Like
just the fact of the two of them -- here -- carrying on all this under the
radar now that they were both leaders.

 "You think Pancamo and Adebisi are getting it on?" Miguel drawled out,
hand slipping over Ryan's hip, petting him idly. He knew his question
should get a fun reaction.

 Ryan blinked, thrown, pulling his face back the slightest margin.
"What??"

 Miguel snickered, finally having enough steady breath, looking at Ryan.
"Payback's a bitch, baby. That's what you get for all that unpleasant shit
about Guerra and El Cid you were always putting in my head."

 "When, obviously, the things in your head are already disgusting and
fucked up enough." Ryan countered with one last joking shudder.

 "Really, hermano, you know who we fucking are?" 

 Miguel hadn't really thought of it this way in awhile. Their reps and
their standing. This was just...him and Ryan now. So much more complicated
and deeper than just two cons in charge of two slices of Oz. Personal. It
was odd when he thought of them as how others saw them, how he used to see
himself, even. Amusing, in a fun, twisted way.

 "Yes." Ryan pronounced the word slowly, like Miguel was suffering from
head trauma. "I'm Ryan. You're poco loco."

 Miguel rolled his eyes, running an absentminded hand affectionately over
Ryan's arm. "We head our fucking factions."

 That got him another very slow nod, as Ryan unwound one arm from around
him and reached out to press the back of his hand to Miguel's forehead.
"Are you high and not sharing with me?"

 Miguel glared lightly, but he didn't swat Ryan's hand away. He was
rewarded when Ryan's gesture shifted into a stroke over his cheek. 

 Ryan finally stopped playing dumb. "Yes, Miguel. I get it. That was part
of the point of all this shit. Getting you back in charge. Us in charge.
And together." Ryan said it like they were two separate things...and the
latter was more important now. "This going to be a problem all of a
sudden? Are you going to be the lead spic who can't touch a dick now?" The
gentle tease was joined by the winding of a wiry arm around his waist
again.

 You want to play? Miguel snaked his hand down with a hard smirk, cupping
Ryan's spent package, enjoying the little shiver of sensitivity it
produced from Ryan. "As long as it's yours? Nope."

 He fucking meant it...and didn't care what it signified. Things had
changed for him, inside, no matter what act he had to put on to keep safe.
It was undeniable, because his feelings were real, when it was fucking
rare enough in here to feel anything good at all. He sucked cock and cared
about the owner of said fucking cock. It spelled maricon to him, in big
fucking bright letters. His desires and comforts had turned into a
textbook definition. And the word wasn't changing how he felt, so he might
as well not give a fuck and go with it, even if only Ryan knew about it.
This was where he was. What he was. And he felt...steady...here. 

 Steady and happy in seeming in-fucking-sanity. That was him. Figured.

 Ryan looked a little relieved and disappointed at the same time as
Miguel's hand slid away from his oversensitive dick.

 "Good. Because then we'd have to talk." Ryan said, a mockery of firm and
threatening, making Miguel grin. 

 "I just thought it was fucking funny. Crazy. Wasn't complaining." Miguel
said gruffly, keeping Ryan close.

 His shark just grinned. "Crazy can be good." 

 Another short, grabbing kiss proved his point perfectly.

 "We never got to celebrate me becoming leader." Miguel said idly after a
moment, deciding it was probably time to get their dicks tucked away
before their hands got the urge to wander. 

 "No, we definitely did not." Ryan agreed, seeming like he regretted that
fact a little too, and didn't consider this enough.

 They cleaned up as much as possible. It was a good fucking thing Ryan's
shirt had been white, and he had something to cover up with. Ryan gave
into the inevitability of clothes and the fact that they had to leave
after Miguel had tucked him away, bending to pick up his grey hoodie from
the floor as Miguel backed off a couple of inches and did up his own
pants. 

 "You free later?" Ryan asked, clearly thinking of something.

 "Sure, let me just check my date book." 

 Ryan ignored that with an un-amused look. It was faked, Miguel could
tell.

 It just made Miguel smirk more, before he got slightly serious. "I got
work detail, but I can slip away near the end of my shift. Last couple
hours, nobody will notice until it's time to head back.

 "Good. I'll leave word. We'll celebrate." Ryan imparted, following up by
grabbing him for a long firm kiss to seal it before they left.

 ~ Chapter 19: Vacationing In Jamaica ~

 Miguel slid into one of the larger utility closets they'd found. It was
currently mostly empty, only one rusty shelving unit taking up space, but
had the feature of a dirty bare-bones metal sink jutting out of the wall.
Miguel realized that he was getting to know every fucking storage room and
extra space with a door that locked in the fucking prison that they could
get to. 

 This one was off the hospital ward, quite a ways off one of the twisting
halls with the private rooms where there wasn't much traffic. It wasn't
always convenient, but they'd gone out of their way. Miguel had ditched
his late work duty at the ward. Dr. Nathan wasn't around, and the nurses
got real lax the later it got. He had around two hours before he had to
reappear at the ward to go back to Emcity. He hadn't asked how Ryan was
getting away, figured it didn't matter. The Irishman had obviously planned
for the most privacy they could grab, even at the last minute.

 Miguel slid to the floor to wait for Ryan, leaning against the wall. It
was a little fucking chilly through his thin scrubs. After those long days
naked and growing numb to the cold in the hole, he was spoiled by being
back out and clothed, now feeling the chill like he hadn't before.

 There was one thing he was wondering. What in the hell did Ryan consider
a celebration? Last time had involved whiskey and Miguel taking a fist to
the jaw. 

 Ryan slid in after a minute, grinning. "Mmm...hola, mi gato." 

 Miguel stayed put on the floor when his move to get up was waved off, as
Ryan strode over and dropped down right next to him along the one bare
wall. 

 "You learning Spanish? Cuz that would be just plain scary, baby." Miguel
teased, his hand running over Ryan's warm thigh without thought. 

 Tiburón got to wear his nice normal warm clothes, same hoodie as earlier,
but he'd changed to jeans and one of those dark green t-shirts that caught
the color in his eyes. The cozy bastard. At least he was pressed right up
against Miguel's side, sharing his heat. Close enough to smell...soap.
Miguel examined him more closely and saw the traces of almost damp clean
sheen at the roots of Ryan's soft looking, freshly-dried hair. Miguel had
showered directly after his "work-out". Ryan had apparently waited until
long after Miguel had left Emcity, showering not long before he came here.

 "Hell no, no more than I need to get by." Ryan said with his shark grin.
"I manage fine. You know: 'hi', 'bye', 'you owe', 'fuck off'."

 Miguel chuckled at that.

 "I have you for translation of the complicated shit now." Ryan joked
before a different kind of mischievousness entered his eyes. "I have
picked up a couple new fucking things from you, though, mi cielo."

 Damn, Ryan had caught that then. Miguel hadn't even remembered that he'd
said it until it left Ryan's lips right this second. But now...he
remembered it slipping out the other day with the shank. It caused Ryan's
grin to quirk the corners of his mouth in a good way, though, so Miguel
wouldn't give it much more thought.

 Except Ryan wouldn't let it go.

 Ryan tilted his face closer, head dipping to the side, towards Miguel.
"What's that actually mean, anyway?" A curious tease of that husky voice.

 Miguel smirked softly. So Ryan didn't know then, or he knew what kind of
word it sounded like when Miguel said it, understanding the intent, but
didn't quite know the full real meaning. 

 Miguel looked at the floor, slightly embarrassed at having to explain,
ignoring that teasing spark in Ryan's eyes. Oh yeah, Ryan understood it
enough. 

 Miguel contemplated lying and saying it meant cocksucker or something.
But then he figured Ryan probably knew the fucking bad words enough to
know he was lying. 

 Ryan probably didn't know any endearments, never had them said to him so
he could pick them up, especially in here. Something about the loneliness
of that thought made Miguel want to tell him the truth.

 "Technically? Or what it meant when I called you that?" Miguel asked,
gaze warily peeking at Ryan out of the corner of his downcast eye.

 "Both." Ryan said smugly, pulling his knees up to casually rest his arms
there. 

 Miguel felt the shift comfortably against his side. They were both
looking somewhat in front of them at the grey wall and door, without
really paying attention to it though, their faces only half-turned towards
each other. 

 "Technically, it means sky." Or heaven, but Miguel was keeping that much
to himself at least. "But it's used for..." Miguel's thoughts diverged for
a second. "I'm surprised you didn't look this shit up to woo Dr. Nathan."
He caught himself too late, realizing maybe he shouldn't have mentioned
her. For one thing, he tended to avoid thinking too much about Ryan's
desperate, unending love and devotion to her. Ryan had made that fucking
easy lately by not mentioning it, actually, now that Miguel thought of it.


 Instead of making Ryan tense or recoil (or start waxing poetic), it just
brought him...closer, if that was even possible. Miguel heard the light
scuff of movement on the stone and felt that heat pressed closer against
him, Ryan's knees and legs right up against his now.

 "Mmm, no. She barely wanted to speak to me in English." Ryan said, and it
wasn't as bitter or full of longing as Miguel would've thought. "Does that
mean you're trying to woo me?" Ryan's grin teased his lips with the
amused, faux-innocent taunt.

 "Like your horny ass needs to be wooed," Miguel said with a roll of his
eyes, elbowing the form next to his softly, trying futilely to cover the
rush of heat and embarrassment with bravado. He switched back to Ryan's
earlier question before the Irishman could ride him harder about it. He
should probably clear at least one thing up, since he'd gone and fucking
mentioned Gloria. "Don't mean love or anything. It's just, you know..."
Miguel muttered, still looking more at stone than Ryan. Had to if he was
going to continue. Shit, why couldn't he have just called Ryan 'lover' or
something he knew so he didn't have to spell it out now. "I was calling
you something nice. Fond and shit. My sky. It's an endearment."

 Miguel may have used that particular term on purpose. Because sky itself
meant something more in here, where being out under it, just seeing it,
was a desired prize. Something beautiful, that tasted like freedom and
life. 

 "I figured, that's why I used it." Ryan said quietly, less teasing now,
but not low enough that Miguel couldn't hear the pure pleasure underneath.

 Good. Worth the embarrassment.

 Ryan finally let up, moving past that without another word. "Time to
celebrate." 

 Miguel looked over when he felt Ryan's bony elbow dig gently into his
side. He was getting something out of the pocket of his jeans, legs
sliding back down and stretching out in front of him to reach inside. 

 Ryan produced...a joint. 

 Miguel laughed at that. "Better than whiskey." 

 He wondered if Ryan had brought that and not something harder because he
remembered Miguel saying he didn't do heroin once, or if it was just
because the other man didn't want to get himself hooked again .

 Ryan was half-smiling, digging in his pockets again, for a light
probably. "Well, that didn't work out last time. You don't do heroin. I
know you had some fun licking stamps back in the day, but that might get
our asses caught, and besides, I was going for a nice buzz, not
hallucinations. I didn't have time to hunt up any X."

 Huh. Okay, he *had* remembered then. And he remembered Miguel mentioning
the stamps too. Ryan actually listened to him and retained it now. He
cared about all the odd shit that came out of Miguel's mouth, absorbing
it, like Miguel did when Ryan told him shit. 

 And fuck, Miguel could really go for some ecstasy with Ryan. He'd have to
ask again with more lead-time, or find a way to get his hands on some
himself. 

 Miguel took the offered joint, rolling it in his fingers thoughtfully.
"What's it spiked with?"

 "Mmm...nothing. Pure good shit. Wanted something mild, figured you
wouldn't want a spike of PCP," Ryan said with a shrug.

 "Good choice," Miguel smirked. "You know we're going to be fucking high
when we go back, though."

 Ryan nodded with that El Diablo grin, matches now in hand. "That's why I
went with mild. "

 Miguel rested the joint between his lips, going for the matches, but Ryan
waved him off again. Miguel leaned back and relaxed as Ryan struck a
match, cupping his hands near Miguel's face around the joint, lighting it
as Miguel dutifully inhaled to make sure it caught. 

 Miguel sucked down that good burning smoke. It had been awhile. Deep
lungful, listening to the crinkle-burn of the alight rolling paper. He
handed it off to Ryan, the Irishman still right there, sharing his
personal space. 

 He held that tight burn in his lungs for as long as possible, watching
Ryan inhale. Shit. Been too long. Miguel started coughing a little with
the stinging tickle, having to give in and exhale with the inescapable
rough continuance of the cough. 

 His bastard shark laughed a little at him, strained, trying to hold his
own smoke in through his amusement. Ryan managed just fine without
coughing, of course.

 "Shut the fuck up, man." Miguel choked out, defensively, trying not to
laugh himself.

 Ryan exhaled much more smoothly, on a smirk, as Miguel took the joint
from those skilled calloused fingers. Miguel let his head rest back
against the stone, becoming less and less uncomfortable with its cool
hardness, as they passed the joint back and forth. He closed his eyes,
feeling that burn turn smooth, soothing, spreading through his body. He
felt that warm body all along his, listening to Ryan's breath like music,
as he let his brain just fog. Floating a little. Feeling blunter, calmer,
less cold.

 *

 A little while later, joint having disappeared, Miguel exhaled slowly.
Feeling loose and wanting a pillow to rest his head on suddenly, he
shifted, sliding down, head going into Ryan's lap without thought, lying
down on stone. Much more comfortable. Warm lap, firm body. Ryan looked
just as relaxed, his hand slipping down to stroke over Miguel's hair. 

 They had been talking about...hmm...the world. Any place far from Oz.
Miguel had told Ryan all about Tierra del Fuego, the end of the earth.
Ryan shared jungles and heat and places where summer lived. Miguel was
just listening to the flow of Ryan's words now, feeling the languid
passion of them against his skin.

 "We should be in Jamaica, mon." Ryan finished one of his informative
musings on foreign lands in a drawling fake accent.

 Miguel snickered in his lap, letting his body shake with it. "Should've
turned on the faucet, made a fake waterfall." 

 Ryan laughed again, deep, but slithering out of his control. Miguel rode
the shake of Ryan's body too. Felt good. 

 "Mmm...how much longer we got here?" Miguel asked with his own drawl,
closing his eyes briefly again.

 He felt the fluid small shift of that body, as Ryan was careful not to
disturb him. "Hour and fifteen."

 "Shiiit, tiburón. That's good. Not ready to cope yet." Miguel stretched
his legs lazily, arms reaching up and slipping over Ryan in their own
stretch as his head stayed in that perfect warm support of his lap. Time
was moving slow.

 "I'm assuming you can maintain and won't be sucking down all the
patients' jello when you get back." Ryan said, hand still caressing
Miguel. Constant easy contact, heat slipping over his head, his neck, down
his arm.

 "Mmm...jello." That sounded delicious -- slick, fruity, and chilled. 

 Ryan did that thing where he almost giggled again. "Here, munchie boy.
This'll help." Ryan reached into the pockets of his hoodie and pulled
out...two small bags of Fritos that looked like they were from one of the
staff's snack machines.

 *That's* why he'd seemed a little bulky and occasionally crinkled oddly
when he'd moved.

 "Damn, baby. You really are a planner at heart, aren't you, mi cielo?"

 Ryan grinned, dropping a bag down into his hands. "I've got candy bars
too."

 Miguel's stomach wanted to tear into the bag, but he set it aside. Better
for later, it would help dull the buzz before they left.

 "That what's been poking me in the head?" Miguel joked, just to hear that
free-floating laugh again, to feel it underneath him.

 "No." Ryan formed the innuendo-laden answer out of that laugh.

 Miguel rubbed his head against the warm worn material. He wasn't quite in
that part of Ryan's lap, resting more on his legs. If Miguel just turned
his head though, moved up a little...

 Felt Ryan's package, lax still, soft bulge brushing against his head. He
nuzzled into it a little, without thought. Damn, tiburón's drugs were
good. Nothing but riding warmth, everything making more sense with its
smooth dull edges, that hot little blanketing buzz alive in his very
muscles.

 Ryan groaned in an entirely pleasant way, fingers clenching in their idle
caress over Miguel's arm. Miguel pressed into his heat, feeling Ryan's
cock in a different way than usual, against his face, almost under his
head, with another nuzzle. Miguel shifted again, turning towards Ryan
more, his fingers slipping up to hold onto the waist of Ryan's jeans,
curling down inside to brush skin. Mouthing Ryan's fly, just because it
was there and he liked the feel of that little twitch, Ryan's cock coming
to life under his touch. Denim between teeth with a teasing tug.

 "Mmmm...yes...mi cielo..." Ryan's happy purring voice wrapped around him,
touch still stroking over Miguel's skin with it. Encompassing him.

 "Hey...this is supposed to be *my* celebration, ain't it?" Miguel teased,
mouth leaving damp denim behind as he looked up.

 "You're right." Ryan agreed, before Miguel's world was in upheaval, his
resting place sliding out from under him.

 Legs moving, Ryan sat up more, before shifting away. Miguel's head
lightly thudded to the floor when he wasn't fast enough to stop the loss
of his pillow.

 "Ow," he said mildly, his tone containing a laugh all its own.

 "Shit. Sorry." Laughing mutters coming close to join him, Ryan took up
his view, pausing to drop an apologetic kiss on his forehead.

 Ryan shed his sweat jacket, rolling it up and tucking it under Miguel's
head. Nice and warm, it smelled liked Ryan. It was an improvement over the
stone floor. He didn't even mind the two vague lumps that were probably
the candy bars.

 Miguel was fine there, laid out on his back on the floor, but it was so
much better when Ryan stayed in view, coming to straddle him with lanky
heat. Miguel's hands drifted to the curve of hips, holding him there in
approval, feeling the nice firm pressure of soft ass and brush of better
things, right there below his pelvis, close enough to be in firm contact
with his dick though his thin scrub pants and boxers. Perfect seat for
Ryan. 

 "Better?" Ryan smirked down at him, before he was leaning over and
closing the distance.

 Brushfire of lips against his. Graceful press of mouths, lazy and
meandering slowly to the hint of a darting tongue. Perfect way to spread
that buzz, that languid pleasure. The floor was definitely less chilly
now.

 It took them a little longer to get it up, but it was a good thing,
instead of bad. Letting them touch and explore, just enjoy each other and
the gentle spark that blanketed them, longer. 

 Ryan sat back up, letting him breathe, that little shift another pleasant
rub of pelvises, more weight pressing down deliciously for a moment, as
Ryan shed his shirt. Miguel watched the glorious stretch of arms, the
exposure of pale flat chest, stomach, and old scars. Had to run his hands
up, slowly taking Ryan in under his fingertips, experiencing the
stretching movement by feel as Ryan tossed his shirt away and slid back
down for more long kisses that served no purpose other than tasting, than
staying warm and drinking each other up. 

 Who needed words and waterfalls when he could have that small gasp
against his mouth, breath caressing his damp lips? It blotted everything
from his mind. He could only focus on one thing at a time, and enjoying
Ryan's body was the most important thing in the world right now.

 Another nice rub of movement over his slowly stiffening dick, another
pause, as Ryan sat up again to shed Miguel's shirt this time. Ryan
returned again afterwards, falling back to his mouth with grace even as
rough hands slid over his newly exposed skin, bringing trails of heat to
the chill of the air, burning it away. Chest brushing against chest
proving better for generating warmth than the insulation of clothes.

 His hips occasionally moved up into the kisses, like the slow lap of
waves, as Ryan rode them down in turn. Eventually catching more of a
rhythm, he felt his dick harden more fully with each slow grind of Ryan
against him, with the drag of fingers and suck of Ryan's mouth across his
skin. Low heat simmering, spreading out. Amplified and growing, in smooth
heated comfort.

 Perfect celebration.

 That nice buzzing heat slowly built between them, bodies flowing together
as they languidly followed it. Miguel changed the angle of Ryan's firm
warmth slithering against him. Their hips kept up those smooth thrusts
even as their bodies shifted. His knee hit the stone hard as he rolled
them to rest on top, but any dull pain was lost in the tiny shudder of
Ryan's body under his with the new extra pressure against Ryan's cock,
that mouth obliterating everything with the hot, drawn out, pure sex of
his kiss.

 One hard nipple grazed another, other sliding against slick skin, and
there was that tremble again, lightning spark, riding Miguel down this
time. Down against that body. Bare chests allowed skin to stick and rub to
skin, even as his dick was living on the friction trapped behind cloth. He
was between Ryan's legs still, as they hooked over the back of his. He was
hotly held between thighs pressing close along the outside of his own,
Ryan's lower legs wrapped around his, changing the angle more, Ryan's body
enclosing him. Everything rubbing so much fucking closer. Tighter. More.

 Miguel groaned huskily against Ryan's throat, the man stealing his
fucking breath. He was so fucking high, the sweet cloudy buzz in his mind
and blood stretching further and gaining that pure heaven feel from Ryan's
body. Breathless in that nice dizzy fog. His hands skimmed skin, seizing
it all in his arms. Needed to press closer. Touch everywhere. Driven by
heat in his blood, slithering under his skin, his nerves alive and
wanting, dick hard and balls tightening.

 Ryan's hands slid down his bare back, a flat-palmed caress that must've
wanted everything too, wanted to touch everything at once. Hands moving
downward, slipping down his scrub pants, his boxers, access made easy by
their elastic-banded looseness. Fingers firmly grazing down the naked
curve of his ass, digging in softly. Ryan's hands came to rest cupping his
ass, held between cloth and flesh. Feeling perfect and fucking hot as Ryan
grasped his ass and pulled him hard into the thrust, with a soft moan into
his mouth.

 Fuuuck. Miguel shuddered and rode that clutch pulling him against Ryan.
So fucking hard, he felt Ryan just as desperate, digging into him,
grinding against him like nothing else could.

 Miguel didn't know who came first. Who fucking cared? As long as that
rush washed over him, running through him, making him come in his pants
with the hot twitching driving force of it, and Ryan's body did the same,
that 'Oh...fuuuck...' of the Irishman's lost in Miguel's mouth, drawn out
as long as his fucking pulsing cock.

 Miguel was dizzily buzzed. Happily so. Resting on the loose drained body
beneath him for just one long moment before he shifted off, Ryan's hands
slipping out of his pants, that last caress over his ass making him
shiver. They stayed close, sweaty skin pressed tight against his side. 

 Had it been cold? Definitely wasn't now. His skin felt heated, like it
was muggy but perfect.

 "Mmm..." He heard that happy low groan of pleased relief and the pop of
languid bones as Ryan stretched a little beside him.

 Miguel felt the slip of that skin over his with the movement like an
echo.

 "Good enough celebration?" Ryan's husky voice was still naturally
carrying the sound of sex when he wasn't even trying.

 "Hell, yes." Miguel answered with a voice just as rough, wearily happy,
eyes closed. Lost in the dizzy heavens for a second. He had that slick
heat beside him to anchor him. "Damn, baby. I need a nap."

 He wanted to just slip off into the high, so fucking tired all of a
sudden, energy drained and worn. 

 Ryan's short low laugh slid over his skin, as Miguel felt the heat of the
man now mouthing his throat lazily. Nice, keeping the buzz softly alive.
Ryan was turned towards Miguel more, to enable those roving, open
half-kisses. "I understand the urge." Ryan sighed for what seemed like a
very long time, his breath chilling Miguel's skin left damp from his
mouth. "Can't though."

 Miguel followed Ryan's sigh with one of his own, feeling it right down to
his gut. Which was fucking starved now, panging him through his pleasant
haze. 

 He cracked open an eye. The sweatshirt with the candy bars wasn't under
their heads anymore. It was however, still within reach off to the side.
If he stretched. He turned towards it, and Ryan's hand took advantage of
his exposed stretch away, sliding over his side, nails dully scraping his
ribs, as Miguel got the sweatshirt. He dug out the candy bars with a
crinkle, handing one to Ryan. Ryan took it, and the sweatshirt, shoving it
back under their heads as they stayed lying their backs now, side by side.


 "Fuck this, where'd the corn chips go?" Ryan muttered mildly, as Miguel
felt the rejected second candy bar thud lightly to his chest.

 Miguel craned his head back. Upside down room. Metal shelves. Floor. Corn
chips. Miguel's bag was somewhere by their feet probably, but Ryan's was
right up there. Miguel reached back, arm stretched all the way out,
everything still upside down. Couldn't reach. Slithered up some, head
leaving soft thin material for stone again, as the sweatshirt was now a
speed bump under his neck.

 Got it.

 Miguel snatched up the bag triumphantly, smirking and vocal, as he
shifted back into his old comfortable position right beside a pleased
Ryan, who snapped up the bag.

 "Gracias. My hero."

 The crinkle and munch took over the room. Drained and happy, Miguel
filled his nagging stomach with delicious peanuts, nougat, and chocolate.
Ryan noisily ate corn chips beside him. Both worn out and still high. His
candy bar was inhaled, as were Ryan's Fritos, before he noticed the
dryness of his throat. 

 Thirsty. He stared at the sink. All the way over there. Damn. They had to
get up eventually though, and even though everything in him protested and
wanted to just...lie there...baked, he sat up. Slowly, and with a deep
groan that felt good too.

 "Why are you moving?" Ryan acted like it was a travesty. 

 He looked back at Ryan, who was holding up his wrist, as Miguel finally
pulled himself up to stand. Still had that big black watch on. 

 "We've still got twenty minutes."

 "Thirsty." Miguel explained, taking the steps to the sink. Huh. Wasn't
that far after all. He turned on the faucet and bent low, craning his head
underneath to catch that cool refreshing clean on his tongue, straight
down his throat in messy gulps, overflowing and missing his mouth as much
as he swallowed. The water running over his skin just felt good anyway, so
he didn't try to stop it. He stood back up straight, his face left wet,
water dripping down his neck. He rubbed his damp hand over his skin to
catch the excess, running it over his hair afterwards, just because. The
cool wetness felt nice, even in the chill.

 "How's that waterfall?" Ryan asked with that amusement in his deep voice
again, half-laughing with his words. More loose, and almost giddy, than he
was when he wasn't high.

 "Delicioso," Miguel answered with his own rolling growl, looking back at
Ryan, who looked thirsty but unwilling to move. 

 Ryan balled up his empty corn chip wrapper. And tossed it at Miguel. 

 Miguel smirked as it bounced off of his body. "I don't think I can bring
you water in that."

 "Ha ha." Ryan looked displeased after that. "I have to get up?"

 "Hmm. Nope." Miguel turned back to the sink, switching the faucet back
on. He got a large pool of water in both hands, before he realized he
needed one to turn *off* the water. He went back to Ryan with a smaller
amount, cupped in one hand, dripping all over the floor for the few steps.
Well, it had seemed like a workable idea at the time. 

 Ryan sat up with a smirk as Miguel stood over him. "Fucking loco." It was
fondly amused and teasing, as Ryan reached out to steadily guide Miguel's
hand to his lips. 

 He held Miguel's hand firmly, tilting it into his mouth, getting the
mouthful of water. And licking all of the traces off of Miguel's skin
afterwards, as he forcefully pulled Miguel down by it. 

 Much better plan than he'd thought.

 "That wasn't enough, I'm still fucking thirsty." Ryan stated, full of
intent, eyeing where Miguel's skin was damp from the water. "Come here and
let me lick you," Ryan demanded hotly, as Miguel returned to the floor
beside him.

 Miguel groaned, reaching out to cup Ryan's jaw, needing to grab that
mouth with his own for just a moment first. 

 Ryan tasted liked...corn chips. It was fucking crazy. All of it. Them.
And it felt so damn perfect at the moment. Miguel suspected the feeling
wouldn't change, even after the drugs had worn off. 

 Until then, they killed the time, dragging out the high every second they
could, laughing into each other's mouths.

 ~ Chapter 20: Not Playing Games ~

 Miguel sat in the common room, spinning a checker on the slick tabletop.
He'd just played a game with Chico, but the guy hated to lose, and had
gone to the gym afterwards. It was a fucking waste to get the shit out
only to play one game. There wasn't anything interesting on the television
for another half hour and Miguel had already used up his gym time for the
day. 

 Miguel glanced around for Rebadow, the old guy might play a game with
him, but he saw Ryan walking with Cyril instead. 

 Miguel hesitated a second, wondering what the Irishman would say with his
brother in tow. 

 Worth a shot. "Yo, O'Reily!"

 Ryan continued over, like that had been his destination all along. He
casually sat down across from Miguel, gesturing for Cyril to take a chair
between them. 

 "Fiver?" Ryan proposed the bet with a small tilt of his head, already
lining up checkers on his side of the board.

 Miguel nodded and went to set his own side of the board back up. They
never set high bets against each other anymore. 

 Miguel spent the first few minutes wondering how to behave with Cyril
there. Ryan didn't even seem to care, or hide anything, completely
comfortable with the proximity of his little brother. Cyril didn't seem to
mind his presence either, but Miguel figured that was probably because he
was just happy to be around someone new. Ryan didn't let his brother
socialize much, too protective. 

 Fifteen minutes later, Miguel had learned some things...

 Surprisingly, for someone so swift, Ryan wasn't that great at checkers.

 Cyril treated people more like human beings than most other people in Oz
did and he was apparently perfectly happy sitting by and watching other
people play games for a while.

 Watching Ryan when he captured a checker was the really amusing thing. He
would lightly flick it at Cyril with a grin, the younger brother making a
game of smacking it to the table, catching it under his palm before it hit
him or skittered off. 

 Miguel had never really paid much attention to Cyril before, but he found
he kind of liked the kid. That's what he basically was, a child. One who
deserved to be protected and taken care of in this hellhole, Miguel now
realized. Ryan seemed to be getting slightly better at it as time went on.
He'd had the role thrust upon him, but was learning to move with it. Ryan
didn't seem to have the patience for it, but it was clear that he was
trying. Miguel knew Ryan had finally tried to hook up with a steadier
partner partially to help him be better able to protect Cyril less
stressfully. Ryan didn't actually expect Miguel to look after Cyril, just
free up and support Ryan himself. Miguel decided he would keep a covert
eye on the kid too, if he could, though. He remembered his own kid. The
loss that had ripped his heart out. He knew that love, that warm unending
protective instinct. He...wouldn't mind having a small piece of it back.

 Miguel took to carefully flicking the checkers he captured at Cyril too,
because little brother liked playing with them, and Miguel cleared more
off the board than Ryan did most games.

 Four games, and ten dollars owed Miguel later (on his way to fifteen)
Ryan got frustrated. He kept sighing through his teeth, and his eyes had
narrowed a game ago. Miguel just smirked.

 "You suck at checkers, hermano." Miguel finally declared out loud to
taunt, his smirk widening.

 Ryan's eyes narrowed further and he flicked a checker he had lost to
Miguel directly at him this time instead of Cyril, before Miguel could
snatch it off the board himself. Miguel easily caught it and added it to
his pile, grin not wavering. 

 "I kick your ass at poker."

 "When you cheat? Yeah," Miguel teased, knowing the cheating part wasn't
true. Probably.

 "I don't cheat," Ryan stated, making his moves with a bit more vehemence
than necessary. He still seemed to be enjoying himself, though. Miguel
would've backed off on fucking with him if he had seemed genuinely pissed
off.

 "You don't always win, either."

 He won more than Miguel did, but Miguel didn't exactly suck.

 "How about chess?" Ryan asked. 

 They'd never played that. Miguel realized he was starting to just assume
he'd be playing plenty of shit with Ryan whenever they got the chance,
taking time with Ryan being a new part of his routine for granted. Ryan's
behavior indicated he was feeling the same.

 Cyril was spinning a checker, trying to get two going at one time. "Chess
is bo-oring, Ryan."

 Miguel turned to him. "It is, huh?"

 Cyril nodded adamantly.

 "Seems it to me too." Miguel added in a conspiratorial aside to Cyril,
his head ducking slightly in his direction.

 A checker bounced off of Miguel's chest, bringing his attention back to
Ryan. "Do you even know how to play?" Ryan's half-sneer was casual, humor
in his eyes.

 "Nope." Miguel stated truthfully.

 "Hmm..." Ryan hummed under his breath. Like he was planning.

 Damn. His shark was going to make him learn, wasn't he?

 "You play?" Miguel asked, knowing he probably did since he'd brought it
up.

 "I know enough to win sometimes. Takes more concentration and passes the
time better than this kiddie shit." Ryan gestured at the checkers.

 Miguel chuckled and hopped another checker. "You suck at 'this kiddie
shit', remember?"

 *

 The next day, Miguel pulled out the book Ryan had supposedly left word
for him in. It seemed to be a new addition to the library, even though it
was worn. It was probably donated used. The librarian was trying to change
things up. 

 Ryan's pick this time made Miguel grin. Maverick Cats: Encounters with
Feral Cats. It looked like it actually might be interesting to read, too.
He wondered if Ryan knew he tended to read the books Ryan left notes in.
It's not like he didn't have time, and it was an amusing way to pick out
what to read when he didn't have anything else in mind.

 He wasn't that surprised to see that the note had nothing to do with a
meet, or business. It was a few words of Ryan's scrawled block letters:

 'time to learn. lesson today. test later. - el shark'

 It had a Dewey Decimal number after it. When Miguel tracked the book
down, he snorted in amused disbelief.

 It was a chess basics book.

 *

 Later that day, Miguel strolled the upper level without his boys. Now
that he was leader, he hung around them more. He still got time to
himself, thankfully. He had other people taking care of some shit for him
now. Ryan was sitting at one of the few tables on the second level, near
his pod. He had actually rounded up chess pieces and laid out a board. 

 That motherfucker hadn't been kidding.

 "Yo, Alvarez. Feel like getting your ass kicked?" Ryan called out as
Miguel got close.

 It was an invitation designed for the edification of anyone nearby, not
Miguel himself. 

 Miguel answered it in kind. "You getting tired of losing money at
checkers, O'Reily?"

 The words and swagger didn't mean anything. Both putting on a show and
ignoring it from the other man at the same time.

 He took Ryan up on his offer with a skeptical face (that, at least, was
real) sliding into the chair opposite him. He felt a thump against his
foot under the table. Ryan "stretching his legs". Ryan's grin was there
and gone, just like Miguel's. 

 Nobody was close enough to eavesdrop, which was a nice bonus. Generally,
nobody stopped and snooped around two guys of their position, wouldn't
have been taken kindly. They could stop the theatrics, now that they'd
narrated the start of their interaction for the public.

 "What if Stanislofsky is watching?" Miguel mused, because that was one
person they had to worry about seeing them being even half-friendly. They
needed him to think there was a possibility of Miguel turning against
Ryan. 

 It wasn't a major concern though, because that happened all the time in
here. Just because you played poker -- or chess -- with a guy, didn't mean
you weren't going to sell his ass out the second you got up from the
table. You ate lunch with your gang, and spent a lot of time with them.
But everyone was locked up in the same damn boring place. With all that
free time, you tended to interact with others from other groups you
weren't directly sworn enemies with. Most everybody mixed sometimes to
help stave off the monotony, gossip, and scam cash from each other through
bets and shit. Nobody in here thought just talking and hanging out with
someone meant you were his friend. Hell, most guys in here probably
wouldn't even recognize the word. The very nature of normal relationships
in Oz kept Miguel and Ryan safely out of suspicion. The Irish and the
Latino's tentative peace made them especially safe; it wasn't strange that
they would mingle when they weren't with their blood. 

 Ryan smirked, fingering a chess piece. They were all by the side of the
board, mixed up and not in place yet. "Doesn't matter. He'll just see it
as keeping your friends close and your enemies closer."

 "That what you do, baby?"

 Ryan grimaced a little, but in an amused way. "Do you see me hanging out
with the fucking Nazis?" 

 "It is something you do though, isn't it, tiburón?" Miguel asked.

 "Yeah, when that's the best way to play it." Ryan answered matter of
factly. "That's not why I keep you close, mi cielo." Ryan added sincerely,
voice low and private even while his expression remained casual, as he
leaned forward a little to grab a piece. Extra careful with the whispered
endearment.

 "I know." Miguel stated with that same seriousness, warmed inside by
Ryan's answer without knowing exactly why. 

 He watched Ryan slowly sort the pieces, separating them into black and
white and like to like. He was sliding the white pieces towards Miguel.
"You don't have a big fucking plan, do you?" 

 The Irishman paused to quirk an eyebrow at him, amused. "I have a lot of
plans, Miguel." Ryan called him by his first name now when he knew no one
was in earshot, and Miguel did the same.

 "Nah, I mean, the 'take over the world' plan. I always wondered if you
had that one big fucking goal."

 Ryan smirked. "Nope. I leave that to the other motherfuckers who make
grand power grabs. I've got all I want already, I just have to keep it.
I'm all about living. Surviving. I do what I can to be as comfortable as I
can, to keep me and mine safe." Ryan laid out easily with that confidence,
tilting his head slightly with a question at the end. "Disappointed?"

 Miguel shook his head, his own little grin showing, teasing. "Fucking
relieved. I was half waiting for the day you came to me with your grand
scheme for us to rule Oz."

 Ryan laughed out loud at that. "Nah, this is all I want. Cash, survival,
the usual. The Latinos and the Irish working the tit trade harmoniously is
fine. And someone at my back." Ryan glanced pointedly at him with that. He
was talking about their alliance. About what they would be doing together,
long term. 

 Just what they had been, apparently. It would be scaled down now a
little, after El Cid's death. Ryan's little schemes to keep them alive and
safe, to line their pockets. It was simple. But simple worked, and Miguel
was...happy...with it like this. Actually happy, which he'd never had in
here before.

 They had that Russian to deal with now, but there was always somebody,
and they were on top of that.

 Miguel turned his attention to the chess pieces, as he watched Ryan's
cues for where to set them up on the board and followed his example. "So,
what would I be? Maybe one of these bitches with the pope hats."

 Ryan chuckled. "You're not a bishop."

 Miguel lifted his gaze from the generic pieces to meet Ryan's eyes,
curious. "What am I then? I'm not a fucking pawn anymore."

 "No, you're not. You never were, really. El Cid treated you like one.
That was poor use of a knight." Ryan answered, somewhat cryptically,
matching Miguel's slightly serious turn as he continued laying out the
pieces.

 "So, you hooked up with me to put my knighthood to better use?"

 Ryan smirked down at one of the horse-like pieces. "No. Whatever I first
saw you as, you're not my knight."

 "You ever see me as a pawn?" Miguel asked idly, without rancor. He had a
feeling Ryan saw almost everyone that way at first. A person to be
manipulated. A tool. 

 Ryan rolled a pawn in his hand at the question, studying it,
seeming...possibly a little regretful. "Maybe." Ryan tossed the white pawn
to Miguel, and he caught it easily. "Chess lesson -- a pawn that reaches
the other side of the board can become whatever it wants, except for the
king. Use it for a queen."

 "You may be a king, but I ain't your fucking queen." Miguel joked,
setting it down on his side of the table. 

 "No shit." Ryan smirked again, spinning a queen before setting her in
place right by her man's side. "Don't knock the queen, though. Bitch owns
the board. You can move her any direction, for as far as she can go until
some fucker gets in her way. The King only moves one slow ass square at a
time." Ryan's version of a lesson, he demonstrated briefly by sliding the
queen up, down, and across the board, somehow managing to give the slide a
sexual grace.

 "So, she gets around?" Miguel teased. 

 Ryan slipped his queen back into her spot. "Yep. She's a powerful slut."

 Miguel laughed softly, putting his own queen in place. "We both kings,
then?" He mused.

 A tiny smile tugged briefly at Ryan's lips, but he turned even more
serious at that. "We're not kings. The thing about kings is, yeah, they
got the power, but the whole goal of the game is to bring them down.
There's always some cumstain looking to stick a knife in your back, or
slip poison into your cup in here. No matter how many times you win,
another king, or pawn with delusions, is right around the corner, waiting
to steal the board and break your reign. Power-hungry fuckers like Adebisi
can play at king. Not me. Is that what you want?"

 Miguel shook his head. Ryan knew that, knew Miguel would've been okay
with not even leading El Norte. Little bit of power and more safety was
fucking fine with Miguel. And he didn't feel alone for once, which was the
fucking miracle. The thing that really mattered. "That's good, I don't
need that shit." 

 The board slowly filled up, Miguel matching Ryan's placement. The fucker
better tell him what to *do* with these pieces. He knew that the goal was
to get the king, and that it had a roughly similar concept to checkers,
but not much more than that.

 Ryan nodded. "Enough power to be safe, not enough to be a target. What we
have is perfect." Ryan's eyes locked on his when he said that last part.
Just long enough that Miguel got the feeling he wasn't just talking about
the threads of power in Oz anymore. Miguel couldn't look away for second,
long enough to show Ryan his own steadiness.

 "Yeah. Perfect." He echoed the word lowly, compelled to let Ryan know
that he shared the sentiment. "We ain't kings, we ain't pawns..." He
trailed off, leaving the repeat of his earlier question unspoken for Ryan
to fill it with what seemed to be on the man's lips.

 "We're not pieces at all. Who wants to be a little plastic bitch who can
only move on the board? We're the ones that move the pieces when we need
to," Ryan said, catching and holding Miguel's gaze again. "This isn't part
of the game, Miguel."

 And it was fucking clear now -- he was talking about more than alliances
and moves. 'This' meant everything. Them. 

 "What am I, then, if I'm off the board?" Miguel asked idly, even though
he already felt the answer. He steadily held that gaze again, even as part
of him wanted to avoid it and look back at the board. He felt the ridges
of the crown against his skin as he fingered a king.

 "You're Miguel Alvarez." That little smile flitted back over Ryan's face
before it was gone again, settling in his eyes. "You're the person I'm
playing chess with. You're the one I want to be around whether I'm playing
or not." Quiet words, slipping out with a need to be heard.

 There was something else in the low, serious tone, in those eyes: Ryan's
feelings for him. His emotional connection to Miguel was right there,
alive, realized, and matter of factly accepted in Ryan's very breath. Ryan
acknowledging that Miguel *mattered*. Obvious only to Miguel, only for him
to see. Miguel wasn't sure how deep it ran, but that something was fucking
there at all, for him... it almost felt like being high for second. An
amazing rush, but scary, with a little of that lost 'what the fuck?'
feeling at having found something in this shithole, that didn't dampen it
at all. Miguel clung to it instinctively, not even quite sure what it was.

 He nodded, not really knowing what to say to that, not much he could add,
but knowing that he agreed. He let it show in his eyes instead. He knew
that Ryan got it from the small quirk of a smile that passed back over
Ryan's lips. That light alive in his eyes. 

 Miguel let himself pause in the moment, before tucking it away. They had
to cloak it for the audience, bring their exchange back to normality.
Wouldn't be a good fucking idea to be caught staring deeply into each
other's eyes all day. It was okay -- they both *knew*. He let it slip back
underneath, into his veins.

 Miguel shifted right back into a tease. "I'm the one you'll be teaching
this fucking game, actually." Miguel waved vaguely at the set up board.
"And if you think we're playing for money when I don't know what the fuck
I'm doing, you're loco."

 Ryan grinned, in that smooth dealer way. "First one's free."

 Miguel let out a rough bark of a laugh. "Always is, baby. You better not
cheat or lie to me about the fucking rules, because I'm going to read that
damn book and I'll catch you."

 Ryan shrugged, trying out his slick innocence face. "Who, me? Never."

 *

 Ryan taught him chess, and they didn't talk about schemes anymore. Too
public. Besides, they were too busy taking the opportunity to be with each
other how they could here. 

 Ryan's eyes stayed on him, his grin hiding at the corners of his mouth.
The teasing chess lesson, the rambling talk of any and everything -- for
that space of time, it wasn't about survival at all. 

 Or maybe it was, just a different kind. Not the immediate concern of
breath, and cash, and blood flow. 

 They had that kind of survival covered too, though. Strengths bound
together, surprisingly now including loyalty. That was the stuff of
backroom deals, intricate plans, manipulation, fists, and spreading
whispered gossip, not something focused on here, right now.

 This was the more important type of survival, the kind that most guys in
here had lost and buried already. The survival of everything that made
them human, of connection. That slice of heaven that could be found with
another person. Light in the dark...or maybe even just someone you felt
safe with in that blind blackness.

 They had found this, along with that other more tangible safety, and were
keeping it alive in each other.

 Miguel still couldn't figure out how the fuck they'd found it. They'd
somehow slipped right into it after starting with threats, and drowning
desperation. The opposite of what it had become. But it was something to
be held on to, fucking savored, in here. 

 He intended to keep it close, let it live, feeling it out and enjoying
what he could grab. Ryan had shown that wasn't going to let it go without
a bloody fucking fight either, with what the Irishman had said in the
storage room that day of shanks and fear. 

 Miguel's world behind stone had shifted, in a short span that somehow
seemed fucking sped up, but spread slow at the same time. Happening so
fast, but seeming so natural that he had a hard time remembering what it
felt like before this. Suddenly, hidden grins in green eyes, storage
closets, and stolen time were forming parts of his life.

 Miguel wasn't sure how deep this would run, or what exactly was forming.
Didn't matter. He felt not fucking alone for the first time. 

 Same stone walls. Different perspective. One that he couldn't imagine
losing.

 It should have been impossible to find this here. Someone who was carving
a notch in his heart -- scarred chin, rough hands, pale cock, calculating
mind, bloody hands, and all.

 Trust. Affection. Shelter. Passion. That shit didn't exist in Oz.

 And cats and sharks didn't team up...

 Except maybe they did, when no one was looking.

 ****

 The End

 ****

 Bad Spanish translation done on the web. I had to look up a lot of
insults, fun! But probably wrong:

 tiburón = shark

 Cutre = jerk

 cabron = apparently literally means 'billy goat', but needless to say, is
used as an all purpose insult that means among other bad things, cuckold
or fag. In this instance Miguel is using it to mean son of a bitch or
bastard.

 maricon = fag 

 Gracias por el dulce. = Thanks for the candy. (A.N.- I used the word
dulce instead of other alternatives as a little inside homage to MJ Gage's
Miguel/Ryan fic 'To Take Arms Against A Sea Of Troubles') 

 pendejo = asshole 

 Es usted verdadero? = Are you real? 

 Estoy realmente aquí. - I am really here. 

 Soy verdadero - I am true (I am real) 

 usted también. - you too.  Please send feedback to sistersleep.