Justin stumbled into the cell, caught his footing, and glared at the cop before taking in his surroundings. He had one cell-mate, a long lean body stretched out on a bench, one arm behind his head and one across his face, messy brown hair on top. "You'd better have a fucking lighter," he said.
"Uh, yeah, somewhere." Justin patted his pockets. The man sat up to pull out his cigarettes, and Justin's eyes flickered as he took him in. He snatched the lighter away and used it, looking Justin over slowly, and then said, "You want one?"
"Sure," Justin said, sitting next to him.
The man squinted at him as Justin lit up. "So, what are you in for..?"
"Justin," he supplied.
"What are you in for, Justin? Did you steal the cookies from the cookie jar?" the man smirked.
Justin snorted. "What's your name?"
"Brian," he said, still smirking.
"Well, Brian," Justin said, hands on his knees to brace himself. "I'm in for murder. And you?"
"What the fuck?" Brian stood up and went to the bars, screaming, "You put me in with the fucking Bad Seed? Isn't there a juvenile hall he could rot in?"
"Shut up," Justin went and pushed him. "I didn't fucking do it."
Brian rolled his eyes. "Of course you didn't."
"I just...it's just a stupid misunderstanding," Justin sighed, then gave Brian a pronounced up-and-down assessment. "You're obviously here for DWI."
"Wrong," Brian denied smugly. "Public intoxication."
"A bum rap, I'm sure."
"I couldn't find my designated driver. I was looking for him. I thought he might be somewhere...down the street...the view's better from the middle," Brian said. "A cop drove by. It says right there on the cruiser: to serve and protect. So I asked him if he'd like to serve me. Apparently not."
"Well, I wrote a song for my school's talent show," Justin said, scowling when Brian laughed."My college, PIFA. It was about the disregarded murder of Jason Kemp, a protest song, an outcry for justice. They seemed to take it as a confession."
A constable came in with a wireless phone and handed it to Brian, who brought it to his ear and quickly started yelling, "Where the fuck were you? I'm stuck in a fucking holding cell with some kid who assassinated John Kemp." Brian was quiet for a moment, then said, "What the fuck are you talking about? Turn on your fucking television, Theodore, it's all over the news." Brian sat down and listened for a while. "I don't give a shit, just get your ass down here and bail me out. Hurry the fuck up."
"Jason Kemp, not John," Justin corrected after Brian had hung up. "A.K.A. Dumpster Boy? His body was found in the dumpster behind the Liberty Diner."
"Right," Brian said, obviously not giving a shit. "Leave it to a queer to confess via musical."
"I didn't confess! It was a song to raise awareness!" Justin said.
"Let me hear." Brian sat down and crossed his arms expectantly.
"No, that's stupid," Justin said.
"Come on, I want to hear it," Brian coaxed.
Justin hesitated, then sang, "I met you in a dive bar/ your price was fifty bucks/ I asked how much to bareback/ you said it wasn't much...Okay, this is dumb."
"No, go on," Brian looked supremely interested.
"I fucked you in an alley/ and came inside your ass/ then I reached into my britches/ and pulled out a plastic bag... fuck this, you're laughing at me."
"I'm not!" Brian insisted. "Britches, I'm with you. Keep going."
"You tried to struggle/ but I held you tight/ No one heard you dying/ in my arms that night./ And when the cops found your rotting corpse/ I knew they'd never investigate/ because straight people want/ all gays dead anyway. /They buried you in an unmarked grave/ no friends or family/ And I laugh myself to sleep every night/ because I got away scot free/ Scot free, scot free/ I got away scot free/ I killed Jason Kemp/ and then I got away scot free," Justin trailed off.
"Now, how in the hell did people interpret that as a confession?" Brian wondered incredulously.
"Shut up," Justin kicked at his ankle, but Brian moved his leg. "Once the fucking pigs let me make my one phone call, I'll be out of here. They badgered me with idiotic questions and accusations for a hour, then threw me in here when I finally got sick of their bullshit and told them to fuck off." Now it was Justin's turn at the bars, clutching them and screaming, "What about my right to free speech? What about freedom of artistic expression? Fucking pigs! Fucking needle-dicked pigs!"
Brian put a hand on Justin's arm, drawing him back. "Whoa, take it down a notch, Mr. Flynt. So they think you suffocated a hooker with a Ziploc?"
"Well, he was strangled, actually, which is why they finally believed me," Justin said. "I think they're making me wait on purpose because I trashed their interrogation room."
"Hmm," Brian kept his hold on Justin's arm and stepped away a bit, leaning to fully appreciate his ass. "So, any big plans after you're sprung?"
"Eh," Justin shrugged. "Nothing special."
Brian managed an expression both drunken and alluring. "I can change that."
Fin
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A/N: For (*)face, I apologize for the massive amounts of crack and the sore lack of an actual prison.
<3 mc pof ife
Disclaimer: I own nothing, least of all QAF. No copyright infringement intended. No sue, 'kay? Thanks.