A/N: I don't have much to say for this one. I didn't have much of a plan for it, but I think it's what I need it to be.

Thank you again, as always, to Muttlpe Mike and Kitkatkatester for reviewing the last chapter, as well as answering the posed questions. I found the responses rather insightful. :)

Enjoy!

"Since you think you can spend all your time napping, you'll be dusting the living room after you make dinner," Noah decided when he got back from his mystery meeting. "We'll discuss what occurred today once we eat."

"...yes sir," Mike replied, standing on the main staircase halfway down. He walked off to the kitchen to start cooking, noting how the sun was starting to dip down into the sky.

No one bothered Mike as he made dinner, so he could at least be grateful for that. He needed some more time to decompress anyway, and cooking allowed him to not think much about anything other than keeping the knife from slicing a finger off.

Once all the food was prepared to be eaten, Mike made it clear to the other residents of the house, the younger two of whom came stumbling downstairs fighting about something; only they knew what. Noah emerged from his office, as usual, and berated them for their behavior, knowing full well it likely wouldn't change regardless.

Noah quickly asserted that Mike had to stay to do anything any of them required, forcing him to stand in the corner of the dining room, watching them eat and only given permission to move when someone needed something. Normally he would eat before or at the same time separately, most often in the kitchen. He still was meant to dust in the living room but Noah seemed to have forgotten that for now.

"Scott, I spoke with one of the local military recruiters today while I was in town," Noah revealed with a neutral tone of voice.

"Don't tell me you signed me up to serve in the army! I thought you were joking about that!" Scott replied, accusatory as he pointed his loaded fork towards Noah.

"I told them you'd think about it, that's all…I also brought back the paperwork," Noah added.

Scott groaned, shoveling food into his mouth.

"Ey, so...how was ya meetin'?" Vito asked Noah as he swallowed a bite.

"It went just fine, Vito...I'd rather not discuss it, it wasn't all that interesting," Noah brushed off the question.

"Aight…" Vito said with a nod, satisfied with the answer. He then proceeded to accidentally drop his fork. "Yo, Mike, couldja get me anotha fork?"

Mike had practically melded into the wall by now, but nodded with a "of course, sir," and moved to the kitchen to retrieve it. He took that time out of sight to sit for a moment and rest his tired legs. He overheard some more talking from the dining room.

"So when are you kicking the lowlife servant to the curb?" he heard Scott ask. "He's a complete waste of space. Especially after today!"

"I'm afraid that can't happen...not yet, anyway," Noah admitted, at a volume that he probably thought inaudible from such a distance, but it wasn't as Mike got the fork and moved back towards the dining room. "Some, ah, legal hoops to go through, so to speak. Problems that need to be taken care of…" The tone of his voice darkened subtly when he said this; it was doubtful that his sons would pick up on it.

Mike's grip on the fork tightened instinctively as he reentered the room and offered the fork to Vito, who retained a confused and, likely surprising to the other two, concerned look on his face as he accepted the utensil with a quiet "thanks, yo," and resumed eating posthaste.

Mike returned to his corner with a suspicious glance at Noah and Scott. Don't think I didn't hear you, read his look.

Dinner finished with little fanfare. After the other three had left Mike cleaned up everything, which in itself took upwards of half an hour, before trudging to the living room to start dusting. His limp became more pronounced the more he moved around, as his tired body started to put even more weight on his good leg.

Noah was waiting for him in the living room, sitting in one of the chairs.

Silently Mike grabbed the duster, waiting for Noah to say something first as he limped to the first surface that needed a dusting.

"So...care to explain why Scott came home with a bruised elbow?" Noah finally broke the silence.

"...I don't know how that happened, sir…" Mike replied honestly, beginning to dust. "He'd run off and I couldn't find him. I waited for him to come back and he was hurt." Particles flew into the air near his face, causing him to cough briefly.

"That's not what Scott told me," Noah stated coldly.

"...I can't make you believe anything I say, I'm aware of that," Mike spoke with a good healthy dose of resentment in his tired voice. "But you wanted an explanation, sir, and that's what I know happened." He swept the duster over the next surface, moving a few things in the process.

Noah frowned. "Then tell me, Mike, where were you when Scott returned here by himself?" he interrogated him further.

Hearing his name come from Noah's mouth felt wrong, very wrong. "I was at the market, buying what you'd required me to," Mike replied, his hand shaky as he placed a knickknack back on the table. "Since Scott took the money-"

"You really should have come home together. I can't trust that you didn't think to run off with the money."

"Why should it matter whether or not I thought about it? I came home, didn't I? I returned what I didn't use, I got what you asked. That's what you wanted from me, but it's not enough for you? If anything this is Scott's fault for letting me stay there!" Mike's voice had grown in volume considerably the longer he spoke, without him realizing it. He felt his shaking fingers digging into the wooden handle of the duster. His throat closed; he felt his heart near bursting through his chest, vision bleary.

He wasn't used to expressing so much emotion, especially around his stepfather, and neither was his body.

Noah stood abruptly from his seat. "Don't you raise your voice at me," he warned.

"It's too late for that...sir," Mike was able to gasp out as he shuddered, dropping the duster to the floor with a clatter as he brought his hand over his eyes.

Noah stared at him for a good amount of time, clenching his fists and unsure what to even say. Mike was always so submissive and agreeable, despite how he was treated. He had him under his thumb at all times, and it had to stay that way.

Noah couldn't afford to lose that grip now.

I'd love to kick three-years-ago me in the foot after this chapter. Writing Noah in this AU is hard.

I started the second part of this scene, it'll most likely be the next installment unless I change my mind.

Please review if you feel like it. Stay safe out there, and I'll see ya next time :)