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Fated to Be Mated

Summary:

It’s doubtful whether Leo and Max would have ever taken the plunge if not for their shared sentence in Sing Sing.

Chapter 1

Notes:

*closes eyes* *takes deep breath* Dear Universe, please let this be a fanfiction that I finish. I really want to, I swear. I need a little celestial help or I’ll never finish. Thank you.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Max had been touched when Leo came back for him, really. He’d been grateful that Leo had been willing to sacrifice his freedom for their friendship. He’d been relieved that he wouldn’t have to face prison alone. However, he was starting to wonder if maybe he could have stood to face it alone, for Leo’s sake if anything.

“My blue blanket! Give it back! Give it back now!”

Max looked at the ceiling, at a loss for what to do. They’d been out of the courtroom for all of fifteen minutes, and already Leo was in the throes of a nervous breakdown. The policeman who’d been emptying their pockets was baffled, and then somewhat alarmed when Leo lunged at him. “Hey, hey! Hold him back!” he shouted to one of the other officers.

Leo struggled against the man’s hold, though he wasn’t strong enough to make much of a difference. “You took my blanket! Give it back!”

The policeman held up the blue scrap of cloth disbelievingly. “This thing’s a blanket?”

“Stop touching it! Give it back, please!” Leo screamed desperately.

Max cringed, running a hand down his face. “Hey, Officer, come on,” he piped in. “We’re fraudulent, not violent. That thing isn’t even long enough to choke someone with. Give the guy his baby blanket, okay?”

“He’s a grown man!” the officer said incredulously.

“Doesn’t make him a strong man,” Max countered. “Look at him, he’s panicking.”

Leo seemed to realize he’d tried to attack an officer of the law and made an attempt to sound calm. He sounded more shell-shocked than anything, though; his voice mechanical, hollow, and still somewhat shaky. “I’m sorry, Officer, I just don’t like people touching my blue blanket.”

“Oh, for the love of…” The policeman threw his hands up, exasperated. “Fine, take the ratty thing.” He tossed the blanket back to Leo, who immediately raised it to his cheek, his breaths quick and shallow and his eyes wide with panic.

“Wish you’d stayed in Rio yet?” Max muttered as they were led into the holding cell he had been occupying before the trial.

Leo just made a strangled noise of distress, his grip on the blanket tightening.

Hours later, when night had fallen and the jail was quiet, Max decided to bring up something that had been bothering him since opening night and the disaster that followed. “Leo?”

“Yeah, Max?” His voice was exhausted. Their cell contained a dingy sink, a dingier toilet, and one flimsy twin bed. Max supposed they had been shoved into the same cell to save space, but it made it damn near impossible to sleep. The best they could do was to sit up all night with their backs against the bars, Max slumped against Leo’s shoulder.

“Do you really think I’m fat?”

Leo shifted uncomfortably next to him. “Um… I don’t think it’s a bad thing!”

Max saw through his encouraging tone. “So that’s a yes?”

“Well, come on, Max; you’re not exactly thin.”

Max harrumphed, crossing his arms defensively. He could hear how it pained Leo to make the admission, but the man was honest to a fault.

“I didn’t mean to be hurtful,” he said anxiously. “You have to understand, Max, I was scared! I was upset! I was nervous! I’m nervous now!”

His pitch climbed a little with every statement, and the blue blanket had made a reappearance, twisted tightly in his hands. “Believe me, I can tell,” Max said dryly.

“I’m sorry, really, Max. I guess you aren’t that fat –” Leo had turned to face him with woeful puppy-dog eyes that made him feel like an ass.

Max sighed. “Don’t worry, just calm down. I’m not offended, all right?”

Leo looked relieved. “Oh, good. I don’t like lying, even to protect someone’s feelings.”

The statement was so frank that Max was offended again.  He held up an accusatory finger. “So you do think I’m fat!”

Leo groaned in despair, putting his face in his hands.

- - - - -

“Put that thing away, will you?” Max hissed to Leo. They had reached Sing Sing, moved through security, and donned prison uniforms. Now the two of them and four other lawbreakers were moments away from entering the main building, and Leo had pulled out that godforsaken blanket.

“I can’t help it!” Leo whispered frantically, hands and blanket creeping up to his face. “I’m terrified! Max, I’m about to go to prison!”

Max tried not to be exasperated. Leo had changed quite a bit since Max had first met him, but going to prison was kind of a big deal, and a lifetime of hypersensitivity to stressors didn’t fade away overnight. “Hey, relax, buddy.”

“How can I relax?” The blanket wasn’t helping much, and Leo was working himself into a frenzy, his fingers twitchy and the color draining out of his face.         

Max searched for the right thing to say. “You remember what I said to you the first day we met?”

“You called me a miserable, cowardly, wretched little caterpillar.”

He winced. Of all the things, that was what Leo remembered? Good grief. “No, not that. I said, ‘We can do it’. And look! We did it!” He smiled brightly, hoping it would make Leo smile too.

No such luck. “We got caught doing it,” Leo pointed out.

“At least we had the guts to try. My point is that if we can dare to pull off a two-million-dollar scam then we can do anything. Don’t forget who you are.” He stabbed a finger in the air emphatically.

“I’m a public accountant, a Nobody.” Leo’s answer was immediate, with a wooden, tired quality.

What?”         

Leo blinked. “Oh, sorry, Max. It’s just that you reminded me of Mr. Marks just now, and –”

Max couldn’t believe it. Leo had to snap out of this or he was going to be eaten alive in Sing Sing. “You’re not a damned public accountant, you’re a Broadway producer!” he burst out.

“Right, right.” Leo nodded, though not with much conviction.

Max put his hands on Leo’s shoulders. “You’re Leo Bloom,” he said firmly, “numbers whiz, Broadway producer, and Max Bialystock’s partner. And we can do it.”

Leo gifted him the faintest of smiles, nodded, and snuck the blanket back into his pocket. He opened his mouth to say something, but they were interrupted by a guard. “Cuddle session’s over, love birds. Get in line.”

“‘Cuddle session’?” Max repeated to himself, bemused. “I just touched his arm.”

- - - - -

“Leo!” Max took the mess hall seat across from Leo, slamming his tray down. The abrupt movement knocked his glass of apple juice over and straight into his beans, making them virtually inedible, but he was too excited to care. “Leo, you’re not gonna believe this. Are you sitting down?”

Leo looked up from his own lunch, quizzical. “Max, this is a face-to-face conversation.”

Max ignored his pedantry and said the magic words. “Franz wrote us another show.”

Just as expected, Leo dropped his plastic fork, his eyes widening and his full attention on Max’s news. “Really?”

“Yes, really!” Even though Franz was in the same prison as them, they hadn’t seen much of him in the two months they’d been there – presumably because he’d been feverishly working on the new play. “It’s called ‘Prisoners of Love’.” Max leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a gleeful whisper. “And it’s a hackneyed piece of garbage.”

Leo furrowed his eyebrows, trying to make sense of Max’s delight. “And that’s… good?”

“It’s good if we make it seem like it was on purpose. And we’re accidental experts at that.”

Comprehension dawned on Leo’s face, and he nodded. “You’re right! But Max, how are we going to produce a show? We’re in a prison.”

“A prison full of fellas with too much time on their hands. It’s all doable if you just think about it.” Max ticked a finger for each detail. “Step one: find the play.” He pulled out the manuscript Franz had lent him, throwing it onto the table between them. “Got it. Step two: find the director. You and I will have to do, because anyone else might take it seriously and it would turn out awful. Step three: raise the money. That can be postponed until it takes off, because initially we’ll have to have free admission.”

“We could have open rehearsals to pique interest,” Leo mused. “Maybe then people would start investing before we actually open the show.”

Max grinned. He knew show business like the back of his hand, but Leo’s inexperience bred all the great out-of-the-box thinking. “Brilliant! Step four: find the actors.” He pushed the script across the table. “Take this, get acquainted with it, and tell everyone who walks into the library about it. No, don’t tell. Brag. Make it seem huge. We need to get people talking about this. We need guys we’ve never even spoken to asking us about it. That’s when we’ll start auditions.”

Leo picked up the thick stack of paper, glancing between it and Max. “You think it’ll really work?”

“Leo, my friend…” Before ‘Springtime’, and even during ‘Springtime’, Max had been getting increasingly desperate, and putting on shows wasn’t fun anymore. Now, with nothing to lose and everything to gain, he was starting to feel like his old self again. He smiled. “I think we’re on our way to the top.”

Notes:

Imagine Nathan Lane. Okay, now imagine Gene Wilder but a little more weedy and disheveled. That’s what I’m going for here. Next chapter will be from Leo’s perspective. Then Max’s, then Leo’s, and so on. Additionally, the promised romance and showbiz shenanigans will pick up a lot more next chapter!