His burly cellmate was snoring loudly, and Kurt huffed out in frustration. How was he ever supposed to sleep in this place?

Kurt eyed his ball curiously, not sure where exactly it came from, but was thankful for the little splashes of color and bouncy nature because it kept him somewhat captivated with interest throughout his bland days of routine lock up. Kurt bounced it against the wall again from his bunk and caught it once more, keeping up a steady pace.

"Whoever is doing that needs to stop," a voice growled from across the way, slicing through the biting silence. "Some of us are trying to sleep!"

"You and me both," Kurt snapped, stuffing the ball into his trousers and turning on his side irritably.

"Know your place, Hummel," Kurt's now awake cellmate whispered frantically. "You don't want to mess with Anderson."

Kurt scoffed and glared. "Are you really talking about that hobbit that squeals demands to his croonies? Psh, I could take him," Kurt said loud enough so Anderson could hear clearly. "Nobody tells me what to do."

His cellmate glanced around nervously like he was threatened by some unseen force, a sheen of sweat glistening upon his face. "He basically runs this place, man. You won't have a chance in hell to survive here if you're on his shit list."

Kurt sat up quickly and stuck his arms between the bars, leaning casually against them and smirking toward Anderson's cell. "Maybe there needs to be a new order."

Anderson's dark eyes flashed from across the way. "You better watch your back, Hummel."

Although Anderson's words sounded threatening, Kurt could sense a small smile tugging on the corner of his mouth as Kurt licked his lips slowly. Kurt was positive that no matter what kind of reputation Anderson had in here, Kurt would have him bent over and begging to be fucked in less than a week, no problem.

Because you see, Kurt Hummel had a reputation of his own to uphold.