Infirmary

Clay woke suddenly to find Sonny asleep on the nearby recliner and the apartment dark and quiet. Suddenly nauseous with his bladder full and demanding to be emptied, Clay furiously attempted to kick free from the blanket which had become tangled around his legs afraid that he was about to have an accident on Sonny's couch.

Remembering how he was brutally abused for wetting the bed as a little boy in the orphan camp in Liberia after his aid worker grandparents had been killed, Clay was suddenly sweating and confused about where he was and why it was so dark. Starting to panic and unsure of where he was supposed to use the bathroom, he pushed himself off of the couch, still tangled in the blanket.

The sound of the kid hitting the floor woke Sonny, but it was too late. Clay was unable to hold his bladder any longer and he cried out at the sudden painful burning in his private area as he wet himself and the blanket, while still sitting on Sonny's living room floor.

The older, well experienced SEAL was immediately awake and alert at the sound of his kid clearly upset and tangled in his blanket on the floor. It appeared as if Clay had fallen off the couch, and Sonny was out of the recliner and moving toward the distraught boy immediately, assuming he had bumped his already sore bottom on the floor.

Reaching out to calm and check his kid, Sonny was shocked when Clay scrambled away from him, still caught in the blanket, and clearly terrified. Sonny moved back slightly, giving the boy some space and reaching up to turn on the lamp by the couch to get a better look at the kid. Clay had never reacted to Sonny with fear, even when the older man was grumpy or scolding him. It was a completely unexpected response, and Sonny's immediate reaction was guilt that maybe his spanking the boy the night before was the cause of his fear.

Clay looked up at Sonny confused. Now that he could see him more clearly with the light from the lamp, he recognized that this wasn't the man who punished him at the orphan camp. Clay knew this man as well, but he was cold and afraid, and he couldn't remember his name or where he was exactly.

Clay's eyes were suddenly filled with tears as he tried to ask the man where he was and to beg forgiveness for wetting himself again.

Sonny was stunned when the now crying kid started speaking to him in a language he could not even identify let alone understand. Immediately going into Bravo Three mode, Sonny thought about what Trent would do if he were there looking at his kid clearly upset and afraid and confused. Taking a calming breath and using the medic's gentle but firm tone, Sonny attempted to talk to his boy.

"Clay, sweetheart," he said softly. "It's Uncle Sonny. Can you hear me?"

Clay was quiet for several long seconds. He looked up at Sonny, shivering in his soaked shorts and the soggy blanket. Clay remembered that he was staying with Sonny while Jason was visiting Mikey. He was also aware that he had just peed all over himself, the blanket and Sonny's floor. Embarrassed and unsure if punishment was coming, tears rolled down the boy's face. He was aching from his stomach down to his knees, and Clay wasn't sure if was going to throw up or wet himself again.

Sonny moved very slowly toward his kid, smiling gently. "Are you okay, honey?" he asked. "Did you fall off the couch?"

Clay pulled his aching legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around himself, shaking and clearly uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, Sonny," he cried pitifully. "Please don't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you honey," Sonny promised. "Why are you sorry? Are you sick, baby?"

Now that he was closer to his boy, Sonny could see that he was sweating, and his cheeks were red. He was shivering as if he were cold, and the older man suspected the kid was spiking a fever.

"It was an accident, Sonny," Clay cried. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do it. I'll clean it up. I promise. I won't do it again."

Looking down at his scared, sick kid, Sonny recognized the wet spot on the rug and immediately understood what had happened.

"Clay, baby," Sonny said, calm and gentle. "It's okay. I'm not mad. Accidents happen sometimes. Did you wet yourself, honey?"

Clay nodded, still shaking, obviously cold. "I had to pee but I got stuck in the blanket, Sonny," he rambled. "I fell off the couch and peed on myself and the floor. I'm sorry. Am I gonna get a whipping, Sonny? I swear it was an accident. I won't do it again."

Sonny knew from what Clay had told Jason and Trent about his horrendous childhood before ending up on Bravo. The kid had been burned with cigarettes and whipped by a man with a stick for bed wetting when he was in Africa after his grandparents were killed. They had all seen the scars on his young body, and it made Sonny feel physically sick to know his sweet boy was afraid that he would be brutally punished for wetting himself when he was sick and unable to get to the bathroom.

Sonny moved slowly so as to not startle the confused kid, sitting down on the couch near where Clay was still upset, legs pulled up to his chest, on the floor.

"Everything is okay, sweetheart," Sonny said, firm but gentle. He leaned forward resting his arms on his knees and making eye contact with his kid who was still on the floor. "I am not going to hurt you. And I'm not going to let anyone else hurt you. I know you got hurt real bad for having accidents when you were a little boy. But that's all over. Do you know where you are right now?"

"At your apartment in Virginia Beach," Clay said softly.

"That's right, honey," Sonny said, opening his arms. "How about you come over here and let Uncle Sonny get you sorted out?"

Clay got himself untangled from the wet blanket with some help from Sonny. He crawled over to his trusted uncle who was still sitting on the couch, inviting him in for a hug. Wrapping his arms tightly around Sonny's neck, Clay buried his face in the older man's shoulder seeking warmth and protection. Sonny rocked the shivering boy in his strong arms, rubbing his back and holding him tight.

"I don't feel good," Clay said, turning his head to rest on Sonny's strong shoulder. "I want Trent."

"I know you do, honey," Sonny said, still holding the kid and rubbing his back gently. "But Trent is off in Alabama visiting his daddy in the hospital. You know that. So how about you let Uncle Sonny help get you warm and clean and sorted out."

"Okay Sonny," Clay whispered, still clinging to the older man.

"Good boy," Sonny said, kissing his boy's sweaty head, getting them both on their feet, and leading him off to the bathroom.

After a warm bath and hair scrubbing, Sonny got his kid out of the tub and left him to use the toilet while he went to find some clean, dry pajamas. Sonny tossed the wet blanket and the kid's shorts and t-shirt in the washing machine and was heading back to the bathroom to get the kid dressed and check his temperature when he heard Clay calling out for him, clearly upset.

"Sonny!" the kid called out, panicked.

Rushing back to the bathroom, Sonny found his kid standing in front of the toilet, looking down into the bowl looking ready to cry again. "It hurts, Sonny," Clay whimpered. "Something is wrong."

Sonny pulled himself together, keeping his expression calm and unfazed when he looked down and saw that the kid was bent over, holding his lower belly and he had pissed dark, cloudy, bloody urine into the toilet.

"Okay, Clay," Sonny said, rubbing his warm back and helping the kid get into his sleep pants and t-shirt. "You're gonna be fine honey. Seems like you got yourself a nasty bladder infection going here. But we're going to get you all fixed up and feeling better asap."

"What are you gonna do, Sonny?" Clay asked, looking nervous.

"I know this isn't what you want to hear right now, Shorty," Sonny started. "But we are going to the infirmary to get you checked out. And I don't want to hear any fussing."

"I hate the infirmary, Sonny," Clay whined. "Please don't make me go. Am I going to get a shot?"

"Did you just hear me say no fussing, Runt?" Sonny said, sternly. "Don't make me bring my spanking spoon and embarrass you in front of the pretty nurses, tough guy. I think we both know I'm not afraid to heat up a naughty tail if necessary."

Sonny paused to let that empty threat sink in.

"I don't know if there will be shots or not, Clay," Sonny continued. "But I do know that you are going to mind the doctors and nurses like you are sixteen and not six. Am I making myself clear, son?"

"Yes, sir," Clay said softly. "Will you stay with me the whole time? Don't leave me. Trent never leaves me alone at the infirmary."

"I'm not going to leave you honey," Sonny promised, sincerely. "We are going to do whatever the doctor says is needed to get you fixed up and feeling better. And when the doc says you are all set and good to go, we are going to come back here and get you all tucked in and cozy on the couch, watching TV, drinking lots of juice, taking your medicine, and chillin' out with Uncle Sonny. Deal?"

"Is the spoon staying home?" Clay asked hesitantly.

"That depends on you, honey," Sonny said solemnly. "Do we have a deal?"

Clay nodded. "I'll be good, Sonny," he said. "I promise. Just don't leave me."

"I'm not going to leave you," Sonny reassured, kissing his boy's head. "Let's go sweetheart. The faster we get there, the sooner you will be back home resting on the couch. It's still early, but it will be light out soon."

Sonny unlocked his truck in the lot and opened the door, motioning for Clay to hop up in and buckle the seatbelt.

"Don't annoy me at the infirmary. Or make the prissy doctors roll their eyes and give me dirty looks," Sonny said, starting the truck. "And if you're lucky, sweet ol' Uncle Sonny will stop on the way home and get us some donuts for breakfast. How does that sound, Trouble?"

"Can I get chocolate frosted with no sprinkles?" Clay asked, wiggling and maneuvering without undoing the seat belt so that he could lay across the seat after Sonny folded back the center console.

"If you behave," Sonny said, driving toward base. "If you are a pain in my ass, you can bet I'm ordering extra sprinkles and parking your butt in a corner where you can pout and watch me eat all the donuts myself."

Sonny glanced down, moving his hand to gently stroke the warm, blond head now resting on his leg. He sighed, thinking to himself that he wished Trent or the boss could be there to handle the kid. Ray and Naima were out of town, taking their own kids to Disney for the week. Brock was still a kid himself and not likely to be helpful corralling Clay if, as Sonny suspected, the needles came out and he went full brat.

Knowing that Alpha would be working and arriving on base soon, Sonny relaxed. Bravo Three knew that if he needed him, Derrick would have his back. Alpha's medic lived across the hall from Jason and was a kid favorite and experienced Clay tamer.

Pulling up his knees in an attempt to relieve the heavy pressure and aching in his privates, Clay reached up to grab hold of Sonny's hand and pull it down to rest on his upset stomach.

"I don't feel good, Sonny," the kid whispered, sounding miserable. "I feel like I need to pee again, but it burns when I go. It hurts down there. And I'm scared I might puke."

"Shh," Sonny soothed, turning into the base entrance and gently rubbing the kid's belly with his kidnapped hand. "I know you're feeling poorly. But we're gonna get you sorted out and feeling better soon. I promise. And don't worry about puking. If it happens, it happens. It's not a big deal, and no one is going to be mad at you. I'm here, and you don't need to be scared, honey."

"Okay," Clay said, sitting up slowly as Sonny parked the truck by the infirmary entrance. "Thanks for taking care of me, Sonny. You know I love you right?"

"I do," Sonny said, smiling at his sweet boy. "And I hope you know I love you more. And before you ask, yes, I am going to stick to you like Gorilla glue the whole time we're here, Shorty."

Two hours later, Clay was sleeping soundly in Sonny's bed while Bravo Three relaxed on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, peacefully enjoying his third donut and avoiding the calls he knew needed to be made.

The kid had wanted to stay on the couch, not a fan of being alone in Sonny's bedroom which, unlike Uncle Trent's spare room, was not one of his regular sleeping locations. But knowing he would sleep more soundly in the dark, quiet bedroom, Sonny had cajoled the baby into the king-size bed where he was currently curled up, wrapped in his famous hurt hoodie and buried in blankets.

Uncle Sonny had agreed to lay down with him and watch some ridiculously boring documentary that luckily put the kid right out. The human octopus was wrapped around Bravo Three when he finally passed out, loopy and clingy from the combination of a high fever and the medication cocktail he was given at the infirmary. The sick kid was knocked out cold from the meds, so Sonny was able to peel him off, tuck him in, and escape to donuts and coffee without much trouble.

Sonny knew he needed to call and update both Jason and Trent, but he was not looking forward to listening to the Brothers Grimm as Brock called them ream him out like an irresponsible frat boy for caving at the infirmary and letting the kid manipulate and wrap him around his little finger.

The infirmary had been busy. They had been waiting for almost a half hour to be called back to see a doctor when a restless but exhausted Clay hit the wall and fell asleep curled up against Sonny's side, hiding under his strong arm on a couch in the waiting room. Once the kid was asleep, Sonny decided to send a preemptive text to Derrick asking him to meet them in the infirmary while the kid was still on his best behavior, before the needles appeared and Clay went off the rails on him.

Sonny: Hey, brother, where are you?

Derrick: On base. What's up? Don't tell me the Squirt is driving you crazy

already. It's not even 7:00 a.m.

Sonny: He hasn't even been gone 24 hours and the boss owes me big

time. Can you come meet us at the infirmary? The kid has been

on his best behavior so far, but I need someone to help me handle

him if evil Clay comes out.

Derrick: What are you doing at the infirmary? He's sick?

Sonny: He woke up fevered and confused this morning. Pissed himself and

tried to talk to me in some crazy Pig Latin. Can you get over here asap?

We've been waiting to see a doc for over thirty minutes, so I'm hoping

we get called back soon.

Derrick: What the fuck, Sonny? He pissed himself and talked Pig Latin? That

makes no sense. I hope you weren't insane enough to call Trent and

tell him that crazy shit or he'll be hijacking a plane to get back here

to his baby.

Sonny: They're calling us back now. Hurry up and get over here.

Derrick: On my way.

When he arrived at the infirmary, talked his way past the cute nurse at the front desk, and found his way back to the exam room, Derrick had no idea what to expect. Based on Clay's typical infirmary behavior, he was surprised to find Sonny looking only slightly frazzled and the kid sitting miserable but silent. Stripped down to just his boxer briefs and parked on the exam table, the kid was swinging his bare feet and nervously tapping them against the side of the table. There was no doctor in sight.

Looking up, Clay's cheeks were flushed with obvious fever. The kid leaned forward immediately, resting his tired head on Derrick's chest seeking comfort as soon as Alpha's medic approached the exam table.

"Where's Catherine?" Clay asked, looking confused. "Is she here with you?"

Derrick wrapped his arms around the boy, kissing his head and allowing him to rest against his chest.

"Well, Runt," the medic said, looking over the kid's head to make eye contact with Sonny. "I'm glad to hear you speaking English. And I'm sorry, buddy. My pretty wife and your number one fan is not with me today. Catherine is on her way to work."

"What the hell is the story, Sonny?" Derrick asked. "He's burning up over here. And where is the doctor?"

"I know he's burning up," Sonny rolled his eyes. "He's cooked up a fever of 103. The doc just left to check the status of the nasty, bloody piss the squirt deposited in his cup to officially confirm a bladder infection."

"He's got blood in his urine?" Derrick said. "That sounds like a nasty infection. No wonder you are looking so pathetic sweetheart. Did they give you a tush shot to cool you down yet?"

"I don't want a shot," Clay whined into Derrick's chest.

"Don't start," both senior SEALS said firmly in unison, just as the doctor reentered the room.

"Well," the doctor said, taking in the sight of his young patient attached to the medic he recognized as a longtime member of the tier one SEAL teams. "I see we have called for reinforcements. I was actually expecting Trent to make an appearance. He usually is the medic wrangling young Clay here."

"He went to visit his father," Clay grumbled, refusing to lift his head to look at the doctor.

Sonny shook his head, rolling his eyes at Derrick and the doctor.

"So what's the verdict, Doc?" Sonny asked.

"Definitely a bladder infection, as expected," the doctor reported. "Judging from the obvious symptoms and his level of discomfort, I'm going to say even without the official lab report, which won't be back until later today, that your boy has a severe infection affecting his entire urinary tract."

"What's the treatment plan?" Derrick said, rubbing Clay's back gently in anticipation of the bad news.

The doctor who had treated Clay multiple times in the past and was well aware of his typical infirmary antics hesitated, looking back and forth between Sonny and Derrick. He had clearly heard the kid protesting against a shot to bring down his fever. And the experienced doctor knew a shot of antibiotics was going to require one or both SEALS holding the squirming boy down.

"The infection is severe and advancing quickly," the doctor said. "If it's not already in his kidneys, it will be soon if not treated aggressively."

"I'm guessing that means both an injection and oral antibiotics," Derrick said. "In addition to a shot to bring down the fever along with the Tylenol Motrin combo once we get him home and settled."

"What?" Clay yelled, sitting up and shooting daggers at Derrick and the doctor. "Sonny said maybe I would just need pills."

"Really Sonny?" Derrick sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"That's not what I said, Shorty," Sonny protested, ignoring Derrick. "I said I didn't know if shots would be happening or if the doc would give you pills. But it sounds like the shots are necessary."

"Why can't I just take the pills?" Clay whined to the doctor.

Shaking his head, the doctor sighed. It wasn't even 8:00 a.m., and already he was ready for this day to be over.

"I recommend an injection of Rocephin and a fourteen day course of Cipro. I also recommend an injection now to start bringing down the fever because he is almost at 104." He hesitated before continuing, "We could try a five day course of Macrobid, but if he develops diarrhea or vomiting or if he doesn't show improvement in a few days, you will need to bring him back in for an injection or your medic will need to administer the Rocephin."

Before Derrick could shut down that suggestion, Clay went to work on Sonny.

"Please, Sonny," he begged. "Let's try the Macro stuff first. You know I hate shots. Rocephin is what they gave me in Mexico, remember? It hurts big time. I couldn't even sit on a pillow. And my butt is already sore."

"Why is your butt sore?" The doctor looked confused.

"Because he spanked me!" Clay accused, pointing at Sonny. "And it hurt!"

"Hey," Derrick said sternly, channeling Trent. He turned to face the kid, holding his chin to force eye contact. "Take a breath, and calm yourself down right now. Lower your voice and change that tone or I will be reheating your little tail right here in front of the nice doctor. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Clay whispered, looking over at Sonny with his most pitiful expression. "Sorry, Uncle Sonny."

"He's good," the doctor chuckled, throwing up his hands.

"You have no idea, Doc," Derrick said, shaking his head.

"I'm going to give you boys a few minutes to decide what you want to do," The doctor said. "I'll be back shortly."

Once the doctor had left the room, Clay turned to Sonny again. "Please, Sonny," he begged. "Let's at least try the pills first. My butt really is still sore."

Derrick looked over at Sonny. "I surely hope you aren't buying what this one is selling," he scoffed. "He needs the shot. Yes, it's gonna hurt, but he will live to whine another day. That Macrobid will be rough on his stomach, and if this infection is severe, as the doctor just said it is, it won't work and he's going to need the shot anyway. And by then the infection will be worse and he'll be sicker and more miserable than he is now."

"Clay, honey," Sonny said, feeling guilty about the kid's sore butt. "Derrick knows what he's talking about. That's why I called him."

"You," Derrick said, pointing at Clay. "Sit your sad little ass on that table and don't move a muscle. The adults are going to talk in the hall."

Out in the hallway, Derrick turned on Sonny. "Have you lost your mind?" Derrick said. "If Trent was here the brat would have his bright red handprint across his little ass and Trent would be holding him head down, ass up while the doctor jabbed him with both the antibiotic and fever reducer he most definitely needs."

"Why would the doc even say the Macro shit was an option if it wasn't going to work?" Sonny said. "And I did wear his little ass out. I would never have spanked him if I knew he was sick."

"Man up, Sonny," Derrick snorted. "I have zero doubt that if you finally snapped and gave him a good spanking, he most definitely deserved it. And he was sitting with no problem on that table until the doctor mentioned the shot."

"I don't know, Derrick," Sonny wavered. "His backside was red as an apple when I finished with him. And he was a wreck after he pissed himself. Crying and confused. Trying to talk to me in some language I never heard before, thinking he was back in Liberia about to get a beating. It kills me to see him like that."

"I'm sure it was hard to see, Sonny," Derrick said. "We know the kid had it terrible before Bravo took him in. But he's loved and cared for now. And today, he's playing you to avoid the shots he doesn't want. Because he is a kid, and that's what kids do. But you are the adult in charge. Either go in there and hold him down while the doctor does what we both know needs to be done, or go wait in the truck and I will wrangle the kid and listen to him bitch and moan."

An hour later, Sonny was relaxing on his couch, enjoying his donuts, staring at his phone, and preparing to get a pissed off earful from the boss.