Current mood:	naughty
Entry tags:	ag fanfic, all fanfic, low key/shadow, slash

FIC: Waiting
Title: Waiting
Pairing: Low Key/Shadow
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Utter lack of plot.
Summary: In Which Shadow and Low Key pass the time.
A/N: For girlsigh, because she is my muffin a nag.

All apologies to Mr. Gaiman, and to various Norse deities.

Waiting

::

Shadow's cellmate, Low Key Lyesmith, is not attractive. His orange-blond hair is too short, practically shaved, and it makes him look washed out, severe. His face softens a bit when he smiles, but smiling highlights the network of scars that twist his lips.

Low Key only has scars around his mouth. They are strange scars, not the thin, straight slice of a blade, but round and circular, like they were caused by drops of acid. They intrigue Shadow, but Shadow doesn't ask, because Shadow knows he's not supposed to.

Keep your head down. Do your own time.

Shadow is not attracted to men. It isn't something he's thought about, because he's never needed to. He just likes women; he always has. Laura, and Marlene before her, and Jennifer before her, all the way back to Denise, his very first crush, a pigtailed girl who had been in his fifth-grade class.

But in prison, you do what you have to do to get by.

It's not about sex. It's a way to forget, a split-second where everything disappears, where there is nothing but the flash of white behind his eyes and the rush of release. But Shadow doesn't need it; he's got his hand, and pictures of Laura. He could be content with that until he gets back to Eagle Point.

Low Key doesn't have pictures. He's never heard Low Key talk about a girl or wife, but Shadow suspects those are things a grifter can't afford. But Low Key has his hand, and from what Shadow's noticed, a fairly vivid imagination. Shadow knows Low Key doesn't need what they have any more that he does.

It's just an arrangement, they just help each other forget. They help each other pass the time, because the worst thing about prison, once you get past the numbing horror of incarceration and grow used to the unease that comes from having to watch your back, is the waiting.

Shadow doesn't like waiting, and he can only do so many coin tricks. Low Key hates waiting, and he doesn't do coin tricks at all.

The other inmates know, even if they don't say anything, but Shadow doesn't particularly care. It bothered him at first; he didn't like the sideways looks they exchanged when he would sit next to Low Key at meals, or when Low Key would switch work detail with someone to be in Shadow's group. It doesn't anymore, he's used to it, and he knows many of the inmates have arrangements of their own.

He doesn't care, because it keeps the other inmates away. Shadow is big, and Low Key is clever and quick, but that's not always enough, not when you are alone. What they have suggests to everyone else that if you fuck with one, you're fucking with the other.

Shadow tries not to think about Laura when he crawls into Low Key's bunk, or when Low Key pulls him behind a wall during their hour of free time. He loves Laura, he doesn't want anyone but Laura, but she's not here, and this has nothing to do with her. This isn't about her, anymore than it's about Low Key.

He knows Low Key is a grifter from Minnesota, but he doesn't know what Low Key got pulled in for. Despite all the times Low Key has sneaked into his bunk, despite all the times he's come with Low Key's hand on his cock and Low Key's face buried in his neck, he doesn't know Low Key's real name.

Shadow's never asked, because he doesn't want to know. He's not doing Low Key's time.

He's not attracted to Low Key, but he's grown accustomed to him. He's grown used to sharp planes and angles under his hands instead of roundness and curves, to the heaviness of Low Key's body and the feel of Low Key's cock hard against his hip.

They don't kiss. Low Key's scarred lips have wandered over Shadow's neck and jaw nearly every night, and they've slid over Shadow's cock more times than he can count, but they've never met with Shadow's own. Shadow's fine with that, because his kisses are for Laura. He doesn't know who Low Key's are for, and he doesn't want to.

They don't have sex, either. They have, two or three times, but it was awkward and difficult. In their cell, in the middle of the night, there's only spit and sweat to ease the way, and the stretching and loosening needed is just more waiting neither of them want to do.

Shadow's been waiting for almost three years, and (he doesn't know, he's never asked) he thinks Low Key has been waiting for close to five.

It's easier just to pull Low Key down on top of him and thrust up against him. There's no waiting, no thinking, just Low Key's fingers pressing bruises into his sides and Low Key's cock rubbing sweat-slick against his own. It's easier just to slide his cock into the impossible heat of Low Key's mouth. Low Key's lips and tongue are as clever as his hands, and they never fail to make Shadow come so hard he has to bite down on his lip to keep quiet.

Low Key's mouth almost makes him forget about Laura.

Shadow's nearly asleep when Low Key crawls under his blanket, and he pulls Low Key to him clumsily. Low Key's lips and teeth are on his neck before his eyes are even open, and he allows Low Key to remove his clothes with the bleary consent of someone two breaths away from dreaming.

There was a time when Low Key had to coax him into hardness, teasing and stroking while Shadow tried to form a picture of some nameless, faceless, girl in his mind. That was a long time ago, and Shadow finds he can't quite remember when things changed.

He's hard when Low Key's hand finds his cock, as hard as Low Key is against his hip, and he arches into the touch, thrusting into the circle of Low Key's fingers and pushing up against Low Key's cock. Shadow closes his eyes to block out the picture of Laura hanging on the wall, but he can still see Low Key, can still see a pale face and short orange-blond hair and eyes that glitter with mischief.

Low Key's face is buried in Shadow's neck, where it always is, his scarred lips brushing Shadow's skin as he moves. Shadow works a hand between them, curling his fingers around Low Key's cock, and Low Key makes a quiet noise, an almost-hiss that Shadow feels more than he hears.

It doesn't take long, it never does, release is just another thing he and Low Key refuse to wait for. Low Key's warm, slick hand slides up his cock, twisting at the wrist, and Shadow's coming, with a soft, broken moan that he doesn't swallow because Low Key's hissing in his ear that he wants to hear him, just this once.

It's quiet, not much more than a sharp release of air, but it's enough for Low Key. His body snaps taut over Shadow's, and he thrusts hard into Shadow's hand, spilling onto Shadow's stomach with a moan that's just a bit louder than Shadow's.

He collapses onto Shadow, lingering well after he's caught his breath, and when he finally rolls off, he kisses him quickly, a brush of lips and flicker of tongue so fleeting Shadow doesn't have time to pull away or think.

Shadow knows he shouldn't think, so he doesn't. He fills his head with images of Laura, and hopes he doesn't dream when he sleeps.

Low Key is gone the next day, disappearing sometime between showers and work detail. He doesn't ask the guards, because he doesn't want to think about it, and he shrugs when Iceman asks instead of admitting he doesn't know, and tries to ignore the predatory gleam in Iceman's eyes.

His new cellmate is a short, portly man who was picked up for burglary in Chicago. He has thinning hair and watery eyes, and looks like he's spent most of his life behind bars. Shadow doesn't catch his name when he introduces himself, and he doesn't bother asking the man to repeat it.

Well after lights out, Shadow sits on the edge of his bed, moving the nickel Low Key left him between his fingers. He tries not to listen to his new cellmate snore, tries to relax, tries to pass the time.

The nickel falls to the floor with a metallic ping, and Shadow realizes he's waiting.

J