The First Third Sunday || Yancy
Pairing: Yancy x Reader
Rating/Warning: fluff
Word count: 1309
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The last time you saw Yancy there were bars between you and he was walking backwards yelling about visitation. At the time you didn’t even really think about it, let alone consider it as an actual possibility.
Now you sat in the prison car park wracking through all the research you had done about what's allowed during visitations;
-No open shoes
-Casual homely clothing
-No weapons
-No technology
-Probably best to avoid any personal possessions
You had already booked at least 48 hours in advance like the requirements explained
Now you just have to mentally prepare yourself to be searched. Right, you got this. You looked up from your lap and out the car window taking in your surroundings for the first time since trying to find an open spot to park in. It was surprisingly busy, most likely full of all the cars of other visitors. It warmed your heart to see how many people came to support those on the inside.
A large brick wall lined one side of the car park, you guessed it must be around 15ft. You felt your hands go cold with sweat as you looked at that wall. The realisation finally hit you; Yancy was just in there… waiting for you.
And so were the prison guards, the warden. Most of which had seen your face. What if they recognised you? It had been a few weeks and you were only there for a day but none of this reassured you enough to slow your heart beat which was now the only thing you could focus on.
You brought your hands up to run over your face as if trying to brush off the anxieties which had started to overwhelm your thoughts. You felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, about to jump off into the unknown. So many different outcomes running through your mind. Despite all of the worries and doubts one thought kept recurring; you want to see Yancy. Maybe the reason this is scary is because it's worth doing. The thing about jumping off that cliff is you only have to be brave for one moment. To walk through those doors you only have to be brave for one moment. Once you’ve had that one moment of bravery, the rest of it.. It’ll be okay.
You rubbed your hand down the front of your jeans, in an attempt to rid them of the sweat that had accumulated. You patted your hands around your pockets to double triple check you had everything; visiting order, ID. Then you made your way over (following the signs) to the visitors centre. Repeating in your head “just one moment of bravery”.
After making your way over to the main prison and being searched (which went without a hitch) you were finally allowed entry into the visiting hall. The place you would get to see Yancy, after so many days of stressing about this very moment. Upon entering the visiting hall you were directed to a small round table with four connected seats, and informed that the prisoner (Yancy) will be escorted to you shortly. Noticing how tense this whole process had made you, you took this brief moment to regain your composure and try to relax yourself (well as much as one can relax in a situation such as this).
You were silently tapping a beat onto the table when you caught the sight of someone in black and white striped trousers and a white t-shirt approaching the edge of your table and immediately you knew who it was. Your breath hitched in your throat and your heart gave a quiet jump as you brought your gaze up to meet his eyes. Before your brain had time to fully comprehend the reality of the situation you were instructed that you could have brief, minimal contact now before you both got seated. You stood up, more eagerly than perhaps you should have, and saw Yancy raise his arms slightly up from his sides as you stepped into his embrace. Maybe your brain just had no more room to think about it but it didn’t feel strange or uncomfortable; hugging someone who you hardly even knew.
Perhaps it was the embrace or maybe it was the mumble “youse okay” that fell from his lips, you’ll never know what exactly it was but what you did know is in that moment, enveloped in his scent, you weren’t nervous or worried. You were okay.
The affair was short-lived as the officer cleared his throat before saying “that’s enough, you need to take your seats”. Unwillingly you separate yourself from one another and sit opposite each other at the table.
His hands rested on the edge of the table mindlessly gliding his thumbs over the numerous indents, “I knew I could depend on youse to come, could tell youse weren’t the type who’d let me down”
“Of course, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Yance.” the nickname seemed to slip from your mouth whilst your sight remained, captivated by his hands tender movements, a smile present on your face.
A soft hum caught your attention causing you to look up and be greeted with a warm smile that mimicked yours. Something about that look made you want to reach your hand out to hold his. But you knew very well that was against the rules.
You longed for more than simply sitting across from him, a table between you, in a room full of officers listening to all the things you say, watching your every move to make sure you don’t do anything you shouldn’t.
So you asked the question that had been troubling you, “Would you really consider going on parole when it rolls around?”
“I don’t know if out there’s the place for me.. I’m not like youse, this here- well this is where I belong” He removed his hands from the table and up to his chest clenching them slightly into fists fidgeting his fingers nervously. He was no longer looking at you, “But maybe I’ve gots something out there worth fighting for now, maybe it won’t hurt to’s give it a go after all.”
You let out a long sigh not even realising you had been hold one in until now.
The next hour or so was spent mostly listening to Yancy talk about his cell mates and new musical numbers he had been writing, or dances he was choreographing. Truthfully he could have spoken about anything and you would have been just as fascinated. It didn’t matter what he talked about because it was him that was mesmerising; his accent, his facial expressions, the way his eyes lit up when he spoke about a passion of his, or how he would frequently gesticulate.
Your time came to an end just as he was finishing telling you about Tiny’s (a fellow prisoner's) new haircut. As you both stood up to say goodbye you were allowed to hug one last time and this time Yancy gave a small squeeze as he embraced you, an unspoken promise that he would apply for parole in around a month when he gets his form. Your reciprocation of the squeeze was a promise that for the next 7 months (whilst he awaited the parole board’s decision) you would come to every visitation.
As before, a not-so-subtle clearing of the officer's throat causes you two to pull apart. You give one another a smile and a wave as another officer escorts him away, meanwhile you make your way back over to the visitor centre.
By the time you were seated back in your car, you had the goofiest grin on your face and a feeling of contentment had washed over you. You could now confidently say that “Everything is okay.”
