Summary: Caught in the act of stealing a car, Bushido is sent to the local prison where he meets Timo Sonnenschein, pimp extraordinaire.
Pairing: Bushido/Bill Kaulitz, Bushido/Timo Sonnenschein, Jan Werner/Juri Schewe
Disclaimer: The following events are a work of fiction and are in no way to be considered recordings of actual events.
Word Count: 3,198
Anis sighed, exhaling through his right nostril, and flicked the bench in front of him. The chain connecting his handcuffs to the shackles round his ankles clinked loudly. The court-appointed son of a bitch next to him frowned but didn’t bother to look at Anis, telling him what he damn well already knew- he was paying this bastard those 250 Euro though how or when Anis couldn’t fathom.
He hadn’t shit to his name and every bit of his mama’s hard earned cash was going to pay for the hit-and-run, the hotwiring of that damn Porsche and getting picked up all because his skin was too dark to possibly own something like that. Thank God he hadn’t been on the way to Samy’s with that set of wheels. He wouldn’t have lived to see his hearing had the cops gotten wind of the car’s real destination. “Joyride, sir,” he’d lied through his teeth when the fat old judge had asked him why he’d done it.
He’d been this close to paying Samy off. Ummi would’ve been able to move out of that shit heap apartment, his sister would’ve been able to feed her six kids, and the child support would’ve been secure for a couple months.
“Come on, say it,” the rat to his left said. Anis raised an eyebrow. Fool was talking to himself; judge hadn’t said anything yet.
“Bail is set at 150,000 Euro. Your next court date will be January nineteenth at ten o’clock.”
“Yes,” the rat hissed, picking up the papers and smiling at the judge. “Well, Judge Pocher, thank you for your time.”
“Thank you,” the judge said in a bored tone. He nodded to the deputy who’d come up to grab Anis’s elbow.
“Can’t believe you got such an idiot to represent. Damn near wrecked that Porsche, didn’t he?”
“Yes, sir,” the court-appointed attorney said as he laughed and moved to shake the judge’s hand. “They just get stupider every day.”
Anis sneered but the expression was lost as he was led back to prison.
“Size large. Shoe size?” the sheriff asked. “Shoe size?” she repeated, glaring at him.
“Forty-five,” Anis said. She slapped a pair of sandals on top of the faded jumpsuit in his hands and motioned him forward. Everything that had not already been taken from him would be taken now. His clothes, his chains and studs, his frickin’ socks. Anis thought acidly as the officer watched him yank off his underwear and step into the jumpsuit. Velcro, it was held together with Velcro. They didn’t even trust him with snaps, like he was dangerous or something.
The officer tightened the handcuffs around his outstretched hands, leading Anis on down the hallway. If there was one thing to be said about jail, it wasn’t that the facilities were so bad. The toilet/water fountain/sink worked fine, it was one big piece of welded metal, and the metal bench in the holding cell hadn’t been too bad once he’d figured out how to use his body heat to keep from completely freezing. No, it was the waiting that made things completely miserable.
Anis had thought he’d known a thing or two about the law but he sure hadn’t known that it was legal to keep a person in a room for twenty four hours without so much as a hint of how much time had gone by. He’d been uncuffed in the holding cell but that had hardly mattered when he realized he could only barely fit on the metal bench with his legs propped against the wall or hanging off the side and that shit had been a dear sight better than the floor. The cement had sucked up every last drop of body heat he’d had, reducing him to scrunching up on the bench with his hands down his pants seeking the smallest amount of warmth as he waited for time to pass.
The guy in the next cell had been cussing non-stop, screaming at the officers on duty in hoarse Turkish. Anis could not count the number of times he heard the one cop scream “Sit down! Don’t you fucking understand German?!” He’d almost, almost, banged on the cell door and told the dumbass “Oturmak”, words that at least had a semblance of the other language, though whether that dumbass was the officer or the inmate, Anis soon couldn’t remember.
He’d come before the judge exhausted, with two meals inside him and bile in his throat from the lnog wait. His eyes had been heavy-lidded but at that point Anis hadn’t cared. He was guilty, fucking guilty as charged, and he’d be lucky if those charges were all he’d end up with. He doubted his other crimes were traceable. He’d been caught because of a dumb mistake. He’d been careful with everything else. Once the cars were in Samy’s possession, his job was done.
That’s what Anis did. He looked around, mapped out where the good wheels were, and got them when the owners were out. Drove them to a crowded lot, left ‘em for a day or two, and then made his way to Samy’s. he even had fake plates for the real high-end ones, in-Staat plates for each make and model, a couple of ‘em. He just had to remember to trash the originals, which wasn’t always the easiest. You couldn’t just throw them away, the garbage collectors would notice, hell, someone would notice if plates kept getting dumped in a certain area.
“Alright, we can take the cuffs off now. This is Fler. He’s gonna be your cellmate from now on.”
“Yo,” Fler said. He was huge, pale as milk, and easily a head taller than Anis. Fun.
“Hey,” Anis said halfheartedly.
“You got the top bunk,” Fler said, jerking his thumb up. “Don’t go near my shit an’ I stays away from yours. Got it?”
“Yeah,” Anis said. He climbed up the cold metal ladder and laid down on the bunk, closing his eyes in pleasure at the feel of something other than icy metal under his aching head.
His reverie was broken short by the loud clang of a bell.
“What is that?” he asked Fler’s rapidly retreating back.
“Dinner, retard. You gotta come whether you’s hungry or not.”
Anis sighed and climbed down, dropping with a plastic slap to the floor. This was going to be hell.
“You see him?” Fler said, pointing vaguely in the far direction. “Him’s Timo. Stay the fuck away from his bitches ‘less you gots something to give him.”
“His what?” Anis asked, sounding dumb even to his own ears.
“His bitches. You see them nice looking shorties sitting down next to him? Them’s his bitches. I’on’t know all they’s names, ‘cept the little one. Johannes or someat. Keep the fuck away from from him specially. He’s the favorite. Gots a fuckin’ guard on him at all time-”
“You’re shitting me,” Anis cut in. “That kid’s a pimp? He can’t be twenty.”
“Damn straight, he a pimp.” Fler laughed, an ugly, rough sound. “Cam in with the little one and the black-haired, girly-lookin’ one. Don’t even look at him-” Fler said sharply when he saw Anis’s gaze on the eerily beautiful guy? Sitting to Timo’s right. “-Timo’ll cream you hisself if’n he catches you tryin’ to look at that.”
“But they’re…guys,” Anis finished lamely. Fler grinned lewdly and placed his tray down at a table, motioning for Anis to copy him. “Hey, Matti. Yeah, them’s men but they ain’t G’s if you follow me.”
“Pretty boys,” Matti said, sharing the same crude grin with Fler. He leaned in and crooked his finger at Anis. “They don’t look like much now but just you wait. Even that fat one’s gonna be lookin’ like Heidi Klum by the end of December.”
“They look nice enough to me now,” someone muttered.
“I hear that,” Fler said and bumped fists with a heavy-set man. Anis shuddered.
“Yo, don’t be judgin’ till you be tryin’,” Fler laughed, slapping Anis on the back.
“Hey!” one of the guards snapped. “Hands off!”
“Shit.” Fler raised his hands up. “Dis be my new cellmate. I jus’ showin’ him some love.”
The men at the table chuckled. Anis felt the gorge rise in his throat. Disgusting. Not only were they all faggots, they were crude, marginally literate idiots.
“Whatchoo in for?” another guy asked.
“Stole a car,” Anis answered in as few syllables as possible.
There was a murmur of approval. Anis just bit the inside of his cheek and leaned his chin on his folded arms. These men were disgusting, worthless idiots. He would do best to keep them as far away as possible until his next court date.
The days passed by at a crawl, unbearably, immeasurably slow and mind-numbingly boring. There was nothing to do, no one but Fler and his friends to talk to. Anis could not even read as there were no books or magazines at his disposal.
Once a week, he got a phone call. Anis had tried to call his mother but she had quickly learned not to answer his calls. His sister or his sister’s latest boyfriend would pick up and Anis would get a minute or two of talking to someone outside the jail before they hung up. The one time he had called Samy’s number, he had gotten a terse warning never to call back if he valued anything in his life.
The message could not be more clear: Anis was alone. He was guilty, he had been caught, and he was on his own. No one on the outside was waiting for him to come out.
Except for one person. Anis had one last number memorized, one last person he could hope to talk to to keep him sane.
“Hello?” Bill’s high voice was like seven types of heaven to Anis. “Bu, what’s happened? Are you calling from…?”
“Jail? Yeah, habibti, I’ve got myself in some trouble.” Bushido leaned into the phone, trying to mask his words from the prisoners and guards around him. He glanced around furtively to see if anyone was listening. All he got was a glare and a mutter of “mind your own damn business” from a burly man on the next phone over.
“Oh my God! Are you okay, Bu? Do you need money or someone to come bail you out? I can be there in an hour or two-”
“Nah, nah.” Anis had to chuckle at Bill’s eagerness. It was nice to have someone so worried about him. “I’ve been here a few weeks. Already had my hearing and everything. There’s nothing you can do.”
“Then you’re calling because…?” Anis could almost see the frown on Bill’s perfect brow and that beautiful mouth being run through Bill’s white white teeth.
“I missed you.”
There was a pause.
“I missed you, too,” Bill said softly. “Bu, when are you next allowed to have visitors? I can’t leave you in there all alone.”
Anis chuckled and murmured a date later on in the week. He heard the beep-boop of the keypad as Bill put the date in and the address and could not help the grin on his lips.
“Okay, I’ll be there. You will be okay, won’t you, Bu? I can only imagine how hard this all must be on you. I- I know what! I’ll buy you a cake and you can eat it when I come to see you! Will that be good? What do they even feed you in jail? Bread and water?”
“Yeah, you do that, habibti,” Anis said, cutting Bill off. “I have to go, it’s been ten minutes.”
“Okay,” Bill said in that sinful voice of his. “I love you, don’t forget that.”
“I love you, too,” Anis said. He hung the phone back on the hook with a click, a smile on his face.
He did not know what made him think he could get away with it or why exactly he was so set on not doing what the man said but Anis did know what he said that started the whole affair.
The blonde had pushed him again. A big man, almost a head taller than Anis, he occupied a nearby cell and had been regularly giving Anis a hard time. At first, it was just rude words, calling him a fucking Turk, a stupid guest worker who needed to get his fucking ass out of the country (jail apparently being part of Germany in the idiot’s mind) but it had quickly gotten physical. The day before, the blonde had slammed Anis into the railing of the third story cell row while walking past and then came back only a few seconds later, while Anis was clutching his arm to his chest, slammed him into the cement wall.
It hurt and, since Anis was not exactly the weakest of guys- he’d been known to fuck up a couple of the boys back in the ghetto- he decided to fight back.
“Hey, fucker,” he yelled out as the blonde moved down the row to his cell. “Get your white ass back here!”
That got the blonde’s attention. He turned his fat face on his fat neck and glared at Anis.
“You want a piece of me, Turk?” he asked slowly.
“Anis!” Fler hissed from the door to their cell. Anis refused to look back at him. He sneered at the blonde bulk in front of him.
“I dunno,” he drawled, standing up straight. “I think it’s you who wants a piece of me. That is, if you’re able to fight. Not many girls can take me.”
“You calling me a girl?”
Anis’ sneer deepened. He could hear Fler groaning behind him, bemoaning that he would have to get a new cellmate because Anis was dead. Better dead from a fight than from boredom, Anis thought. Now that he had gotten used to the jail, he was not all that keen about staying here. Not the way things were going at least.
“What else?” Anis asked.
The blonde lunged at him, his huge hands going for Anis’ throat. Anis was too quick for him. He ducked and brought a fist up in the blonde’s spacious gut, doubling him over. As the blonde wheezed, Anis grabbed his ears and jammed his knee into the man’s face. The blonde jerked up, smashing Anis’ nose artlessly. Anis groaned, feeling a few teeth loosen, before he yanked the fork he’d been keeping tucked into his sleeve and thrust it into the blonde’s back. He pulled it back out with effort and stabbed the man again wildly, searching for any give.
With an odd gurgle, the blonde fell to the floor. He stayed there, breathing heavily, for several long minutes. No one would touch him. Anis just stood there, staring at the man in horror. He was in here theft, he didn’t need a murder charge!
However, there were no guards to be seen. Where Anis expected to see guards at every entrance, there was nowhere.
Wait. Someone was coming.
There was a group climbing the stairs slowly, walking towards where the fallen blonde lay and Anis stood.
“Oh, fuck,” someone whispered. “It’s Sonnenschein!”
Indeed, it was Sonnenschein. Timo Sonnenschein was walking with measured step to Anis and his obvious crime.
“Well, well, well,” Timo said lazily, his eyes sleepy as he stopped in front of the blonde. He kicked his girth in obvious disgust. “What do we have here? Heidler on the ground, Ferchichi with a bloody lip. How…interesting.”
He knelt down beside the blonde and pressed his ear to Heidler’s nose.
“He’s breathing,” he told his gang. Timo snapped his fingers. “Take him away.”
“I tell you what,” Timo said, stepping over his man’s body like it was nothing. He snapped his left hand and his men were on the man in seconds, dragging him away. “Leave him in the hallway,” Timo told them. “Let the guards find him. Tell ‘em he…tripped going down the stairs.”
He grinned lazily at Anis.
“I tell you what,” he said again. “You’ve put me in a bit of a situation. That guy was a good friend of mine. You beat him, there’s no question of that. I don’t want any trouble, so let’s say we cut a deal, hmm?”
“As in what?” Anis asked, wiping at the blood trickling down from his lip. People were watching like there was something interesting to see. Maybe there was. Anis had just knocked Timo’s guy out. Then man was out cold, blood running down his temple in thick rivulets. Anis straightened up and tilted his chin, realizing that this Timo fellow wasn’t all that tall.
“I’ve been watching you, Anis. You don’t smoke, you don’t play cards, you don’t have any pictures except that one ‘girl’. You’ll be here for a couple months…pick one.”
“What?” Anis asked, feeling queasy. How did Timo know about Bill…and what was he offering? It couldn’t be… “No, oh no, I don’t-”
Timo cocked his head. “Really? Cuz I think you do. How about Jo?” At the snap of Timo’s fingers, a tall young man stepped forward, taking Timo’s outstretched hand. It would have been comical had the situation been any less appalling.
“You like them pretty , don’t you?” Timo asked, his voice slick as oiled honey. “Soft skin, fine bones.” Turning towards Jo as he spoke, Timo began to stroke Jo’s cheek with his knuckle. Jo smiled shyly and looked at Anis with an expression that could only be described as coy. “Long lashes. Jo doesn’t have all that much pretty, long hair-” Timo feigned sadness. “-but he doesn’t have any anywhere else if you get my drift.”
“No,” Anis said. He had to find the upper hand in this crazy situation. “No deal.”
“You won’t take him?” Timo asked, sounding concerned. “Is he too old for you? I have others.”
“Give me…” Anis thought hard, trying to remember the name Fler had given him earler, who he had said was Timo’s favorite. “Jan.”
Timo’s eyes hardened. One of his men shifted forward to block Jan from Anis’s line of sight. Interesting.
“Not an option.”
Anis thought. What would Samy do here? He’d just fucked Timo’s guy over and now he was being pimped out…
He would ask for something Timo wouldn’t want to give up. Well, he’d already asked for Jan, not that he’d been planning to do anything with the boy. Oh, God. If anything, Anis felt sicker. No, he was definitely not interested in that.
He could back away. Timo was the one who was scared of him, though he wasn’t showing it for shit. Timo was the one offering a deal. He could say no, except Timo might jump him later with three of his guards and he’d be done for.
“Of course, if you don’t want what I’ve got to offer,” Timo drawled lazily. “We can settle this another way.” Which was exactly what Anis was afraid of. And then it hit him. Anis smiled, the wickedness inside him growing and spreading outwards. His fear was gone.
“I’ll take you.”