Tough Love
When Trent arrived at Brock's house, he was kicking himself for not realizing his kid was obviously not in a good place, and the signs were obvious. Like Jason, he was surprised by the condition of the yard, and really shocked when he made his way into Katie's normally spotless house.
Bravo's medic didn't need to ask where Brock might be, he could clearly hear the sounds of painful vomiting coming from the bathroom. As he approached, Trent found Jason looking on nervously at Ray who was holding the kid clad only in his boxer briefs over the toilet while he violently puked up mostly bile.
"How long has he been at it?" Trent asked, in full medic mode.
"About forty-five minutes," Jason replied, looking haggard and shaking his head at his equally exhausted brother. "I never saw this shit coming. No way I should have missed this."
"You're not the only one, boss," Trent said solemnly, entering the bathroom. "But you better believe I am going to be on this one like white on rice for the foreseeable future. This could have gone really bad."
At the sound of his most loved big brother's voice, Brock turned his head from where it was currently resting against the toilet seat. The kid was absolutely miserable: hungover, confused and sick as a sad dog. He knew he had royally fucked up when he woke up hanging over the toilet being gagged by Bravo Two. Brock had been trying to hold it together. That was until he saw the man he adored and couldn't stand to disappoint looking down at him with the same look his father had back when he was seventeen and arrested for buying fake pot.
Any tiny shred of composure or dignity the spiraling boy had been trying to hold onto despite his current situation was immediately lost when he realized his consistent source of comfort and care since joining Bravo had finally arrived. Pushing himself up from the toilet and leaning back against Ray to prevent hitting the floor, Brock looked up at both Jason and Trent who were staring back at him with a very parental combination of fear, worry and barely contained fury. He immediately lost his shit.
"Trent," he choked out, reaching up from his shameful position on the bathroom floor, sweating, stinking, near naked and splattered with his own puke. "I'm sorry. I don't know how this happened. But, I'm so sorry."
Trent made eye contact with both Jason and Ray, silently indicating now was not the time for angry lectures or punishment, tempting as it was to immediately tan his out of control ass until he understood the danger of his actions. Punishment would most definitely come later. But now, Bravo's easygoing, dependable, sweet, loyal kid was falling apart in front of them. And their go-to rookie tamer and baby whisperer needed to triage that situation immediately.
Unfazed by the disgusting mess, Trent got down on the floor to get a better look at his boy. He could see that despite being seconds from complete meltdown, he was fully conscious and relatively coherent. His pupils were still slightly dilated, but he was able to hold eye contact. And when Trent reached over to check the kid's pulse, it was racing, but not dangerously out of whack.
The physical contact with his trusted caregiver was the final tipping point.
"Trent…" the kid choked out, no longer able to control his wildly raging emotions.
Sliding back to steady himself against the bathroom wall, Trent opened his arms, inviting in his much loved, first adopted baby.
"Come on over here, sweetheart," Trent said gently. "I've got you now, and everything is going to be okay."
Looking up at Jason who was still standing in the doorway, Ray released his steadying hold on the kid, allowing Brock to scramble over to his adopted mama pitbull. Crawling into Trent's arms, Clay style, he grabbed hold of the medic's shirt and curled up like a little boy, melting into his firm chest and crying hysterically.
Barely able to catch his breath, the kid was rambling with his face buried in the older man's shoulder. "I was so scared you weren't coming," he cried.
"Shh," Trent said softly, wrapping him tightly in his strong arms and kissing his sweat-drenched hair. "I'm right here, honey."
"Don't go, Trent," he whispered, tears soaking the medic's t-shirt. "Please be real. I promised Clay you were coming. But he can't wait much longer. We're really scared. He wants you. He wants Jason. We want to go home, Trent. He's really sick."
Now Jason and Ray were looking down at Trent who was calmly rocking and holding together the sobbing and clearly confused boy in his arms. After being hauled off the couch and forced to puke, the kid had seemed aware of his surroundings. But now he sounded like Clay when he woke from a nightmare, afraid and unsure about his current location.
"Trent?" Jason asked, quietly. "What are we doing here? Do we need to call someone?"
The unflustered medic looked back up at Bravos One and Two who looked shocked that their kid, who they thought was relatively coherent, now appeared to be having some kind of flashback, thinking he and Clay were back in Syria waiting for rescue.
"No, we're still okay," Trent said calmly, holding Brock close and slowly stroking his warm cheek. "He's scared and confused about what's happening and likely still has the alcohol and sleeping meds in his system. He recognizes us, and he'll come around. We just need to relax, slow down, and let him catch up."
"You got him?" Jason asked quietly, reaching out and offering Ray a hand to help pull him up off the filthy floor of the overcrowded bathroom. "We're going to give you some space to work your magic while we get to work cleaning up the crime scene."
Trent nodded, his focus on his boy. "I got him," he said simply as Jason and Ray headed out, closing the door behind themselves.
"Shh, baby. Just you and your old Uncle Trent now," He spoke softly to the kid. "I need you to hold your breath for me. Just a few seconds. Can you do that for me, honey?"
Nodding against his current protector's chest, Brock did as he was told and held his breath for a few seconds.
"That's it," Trent smiled. "That's my good boy. Try again. A little longer this time."
After some more breathing, the hysteria decreased, but tears continued to pour down the young dog handler's red, hot cheeks.
"Do you know where we are?" Brock cried pitifully.
"I know where we are, sweetheart," Trent said gently. "How about you? Where do you think we are?"
"I'm not sure, Trent," he cried, getting himself worked up again. "Are we at your place? Where's Clay? Oh my God, is he dead, Trent!"
"Hey, hey, hey," Trent said, sitting the kid up between his legs and forcing eye contact with a firm hold on his chin. "I need you to settle down and breathe. Clay is fine. You are fine. We are home in Virginia Beach. We are in your bathroom."
"Where's Clay?" Brock was shaking like a frightened animal. "I need to see him, Trent."
"Clay is with Josh," Trent explained patiently. He released his hold on his kid's chin and allowed him to retreat back to his strong arms. "He was with me at my place. Jason called to say that he needed me to help get you sorted, so Josh picked him up to spend the rest of today and tonight at his place with the kids. I promise you can see Clay tomorrow, but today we need to get you cleaned up and feeling a lot better than you do right now. You look like day-old, hammered roadkill."
"You promise everything is okay, Trent?" Brock asked, wide eyed and still clearly confused.
"Yes, son," Trent assured him, rubbing his back. "Everything is going to be okay. I'm here. And baby, you can bet I'm not going anywhere until you are sorted. You, young man, are going to be spending a lot of time with your Uncle Trent for the foreseeable future."
"I don't want you to leave," Brock said, sniffling and holding him tight.
"Well, you're in luck then," Trent said. "Because I am not going anywhere."
"Thanks Trent," the kid whispered. He was still crying, shaking and not looking forward to facing his hero and team leader. But he was trying hard to pull himself together.
"We're going to get you cleaned up, and then we're going to talk about what is going on in your head," Trent said, using his gentle but firm voice that always worked to calm both his boys.
Brock was still curled up, shivering and resting against his protector who was holding him close and rubbing his strong hand in slow circles on his bare back. In his head, the kid knew he should be embarrassed by his current position. But now that the family he had no doubt loved him fiercely had shown up to rescue him once again, Brock felt safe for the first time in weeks. He was completely exhausted beyond the ability to think straight, so he just melted into Trent's hold on him and let the grown ups take care of everything.
Trent was aware that his boy was close to passing out in his arms. Knowing he needed to get him up off the floor, showered and coherent enough to examine him fully, Bravo Four kissed his clingy kid's head, and gave his ass a firm swat to get his attention.
"Come on, tough guy," he said, forcing the groaning kid to sit up. "We can't spend the whole afternoon on the floor. You are not fit for viewing by civil human beings. You need a serious scrub down. Let's go."
"Ugh," Brock moaned, allowing Trent to do all the work getting him up off the floor. "I think I need to lay down."
Trent scoffed. "What you need is to get your sorry ass beat," he said, leaning his wobbly kid up against the wall while he turned on the shower and adjusted the water temperature. "There is no rest in your immediate future."
"Is Jason pissed off?" Brock asked, already knowing the answer to that one.
"That's putting it mildly," Trent said, shaking his head. "I'm not going to discuss this with you while you are standing there looking like Axl Fucking Rose after a night destroying his hotel suite. But believe me, son. We are most definitely going to have a long, serious discussion."
"Yes, sir," Brock said quietly.
"Do you even know where your wife is?" Trent snapped at him.
"She was going to stay with her sister," Brock was tearing up again, but trying hard to hold it together. "I think she left me. Katie said she might not be able to handle this life. And I don't know if I can handle it either, Trent."
"Hey," Trent said, once again reining in his own anger. "Right now, the only thing you need to handle is getting your skinny little ass in this shower. I've got you. Just like I always have you. And I promise we are all going to settle down, take some deep breaths, and get this whole shit show sorted out."
"I'm sorry, Trent," he said, wiping at the tears he couldn't stop. "Please don't be mad at me. I can't take it if you leave me too."
"I sure as shit am mad at you, son," Trent said honestly, but gently. "You scared the fuck out of us. Do you honestly think I could take losing you? That Jason could handle that? We were a complete wreck in Syria when we realized you and Clay weren't with us. And Bravo is never a wreck. And if Clay lost you because of the reckless, stupid shit you pulled here today, I don't even know what he'd do after another abandonment like that. You know that's how his mother went out."
Trent reached out and held the side of his boy's head, using his thumb to wipe away the still falling tears. "But Brock," he said firmly. "No one is leaving you. Not ever. We love you. You are our kid. My kid. Bravo is surely not cutting you loose. And honey, I don't know what Katie is going through right now. But I know she loves you. And I don't think she is leaving you either. And if it turns out that she can't handle this life and this situation right now, it doesn't mean she's necessarily leaving for good. This is a lot. And it may be you both need some time apart to focus on yourselves and what you both need right now. But Katie is a strong girl, and she has a loyal family who loves her. And no matter what happens, we all love you both. And you are most definitely going to be okay."
"You're sure, Trent?" he said, sounding just like a desperate kid.
"I'm positive," Bravo Four said confidently.
Several hours later, it was just after nine at night, and the senior members of Bravo were sitting together, bone tired, in Trent's living room.
Jason, Trent and Sonny were the last men standing, or in this case sitting. They were worn out both physically and emotionally. And all three veteran SEALS were most definitely feeling their age. Ray and Derrick, who had shown up when he and Catherine returned from the visit to Granny to mow Brock's overgrown lawn, had both gone home to their wives. Clay was thankfully safe and sound, across town, in the care of Josh and Melinda, playing Monopoly and eating popcorn like he was a normal kid grounded from his phone for normal kid behavior.
Brock was cleaned up, fed, and eventually, after it was made painfully clear that he had fucked up big time and it would not be tolerated, put to bed with his tail between his legs feeling like an out of control teenager who learned the hard way that the adults in charge were most definitely not having the reckless nonsense. And also that he was deeply loved and safe in the care of the grumpy old men who would do anything for him.
Jason had left his second youngest alone in Trent's spare bedroom to lick his wounds and do some feeling sorry for himself in private. The senior members of Bravo had scared the shit out of their wayward boy, ripping him a new one individually and collectively with a threat and profanity laced tongue lashing followed by a stern lecture and scolding. And as Brock had miserably expected, that was not the end of the very unpleasant family business.
Once the scolding was over, and Brock was once again assured that he was loved unconditionally and would never be abandoned, boss-daddy made the official announcement that he and Bravo Five would be taking a much dreaded trip to Uncle Trent's spare bedroom which had now become Clay's, but previously was claimed by Brock himself.
Most everyone who knew Clay was well aware that Jason had taken him in and become his guardian and father. They also knew that 'Bravo's Baby', 'Trouble', or 'The Blond Menace' as Metal had named him, was no stranger to being led off to his room, pouting and pleading to avoid the consequences of his unruly behavior.
However, only the senior members of Bravo knew that in his first difficult months adjusting to the pressures and expectations of being an unusually young tier one operator, Brock had rarely but occasionally taken his own unfortunate walks with his foster father or grumpy uncle, head down and belly churning to Mikey's old bedroom or his own room at Trent's place.
And Brock had learned the hard way a few months back when he had let himself get tangled up in one of his little brother's webs of bad choices, that if he was going to act like an irresponsible and reckless child, Jason had no problem punishing him like he did Mikey, Clay and Rookie Brock himself when it was needed. And it didn't matter in the least to the boss-daddy that he was a twenty-four-year-old tier one operator with a cute wife and a mortgage. If Jason felt that one of his kids needed a good spanking, he or she was most definitely soon to be nursing a sore bottom.
Jason had finally emerged from Trent's spare room where the Master Chief and his longtime medic had determined Brock would be bunking until they were confident their young dog handler was back on the rails and safe to be left on his own without adult supervision. He found Trent sitting calmly on the couch, drinking a bottle of Bud Light and shaking his head at an irate Sonny who had been wearing a hole in the medic's carpet, pacing and bitching while the boss was taking care of business with the kid behind closed doors.
Sonny, who talked tough and scared the shit out of everyone but his longtime brothers and the boys who had stolen his heart, melted into a giant softy when either Brock or Clay was hurting or upset in any way. Knowing that the punishment was well deserved and necessary to teach the kid a hard lesson did not make it any easier for Sonny to be on the other side of that closed door knowing his boy was getting his very sorry tail torn up. Hearing Bravo's responsible good kid offering pitiful apologies, yelping, and pleading for Jason to stop scorching his ass was killing Sonny.
And his pacing was making Trent dizzy.
"For fuck's sake, Sonny," Trent finally snapped at his secretly big-hearted brother. "The kid is getting the spanking he most definitely needs, and he's going to be fine. We both would have gotten our asses blistered a lot worse than he's getting if either of our daddies caught us in the condition Jason found that one in today."
"I know he's getting what he earned himself," Sonny said sadly. "And believe me, I say a little prayer of thanks every time one of these boys pulls something outrageous that I'm not the one who needs to deal with them. But, we all know the kid was a hot mess after Syria. He's struggling with crap we never had to handle at his age, and that's on us for taking him on Bravo at barely twenty-fucking-two, Trent."
"I understand that, Sonny. And you're right," Trent said patiently. "But regardless of how Brock or Clay ended up tier one at this point in their lives, they're ours now. And Jason is doing the best he can to take care of them like they are his own, which tonight means that one in Uncle Trent's spare room is getting a reminder that nonsense like what he pulled today is not going to be tolerated."
Trent took a breath before continuing, as relieved as his longtime brother to hear that the lickin' had come to an end. Along with the fussing and hollering.
"Yes, Sonny. We all know the kid was a hot mess before today," Trent said calmly. "But that is not why he's being punished, and you know it. The boss punished him because he lied by sneaking off base to get sleeping meds when he absolutely knows that all things health related are my business. If I had given him something to help him sleep, or a doctor on base had prescribed meds, you surely know I would have been monitoring him. And so does Brock. Which is why he decided to get sneaky, and part of the reason he's not going to be sitting straight tomorrow."
"I know. You're right," Sonny said, shaking his head. "But you know I can't stand to see them hurting."
"I know you can't, Sonny," Trent said. "And I don't like it any more than you do. You big baby. Try thinking about Mr. Reckless in there not only lying to us, but then deciding it was a good idea to mix his secret pills with his own private minibar before sacking out on the couch surrounded by his own mess. He could have killed himself. So yeah, he got his out of control little ass a whuppin' to get him right back under control where he most definitely needs to be for his own good."
When Jason emerged looking like he'd been yanked through the wringer, he tossed his belt on a nearby chair like he couldn't wait to get it out of his hand. Sinking down onto Trent's couch, their boss and brother leaned forward, looking down with his arms resting on his knees and shaking his head sadly.
"I fucking hate doing that," Jason said, looking like he might cry himself. "It's the third and last time I've ever felt I needed to take a belt to one of my kids. I won't do it again. I'm too old for this."
"Trent's right, boss," Sonny said solemnly. "None of us want to see our babies punished. But you did what needed to be done. Brock learned a hard lesson we all understand he needs to understand."
Trent stood and returned with a beer for his worn out brother.
Taking a long drink before leaning back on the couch, Jason looked up at his trusted medic.
"Give him a few minutes to settle down and do some sulking in private," Jason said quietly. "Then go in and make sure he's okay. No doubt our boy hasn't had an ass bare whuppin' like I just gave him since he was Clay's age. The last time I took the belt to Mikey he was eighteen and thinking he could act and talk to me however the hell he wanted because he was a grown-up high school graduate wreaking havoc with his friends the summer before college. He gave me the silent treatment for two days, but he eventually apologized and never acted up again under my roof."
"And I have no doubt that one in there is done with the nonsense as well," Trent said. "Brock's natural instinct is to be a rule follower. And he hates to have his foster daddy disappointed in him. He needs us to help get him sorted out. He's a scared, overwhelmed kid. But he's a really good kid. Tomorrow, when we're all less shot to shit, we can sit down and come up with a plan. Just like we always do."
"And Jase," Sonny said sincerely. "We can see you are feeling bad about what you needed to do tonight. But everybody who knows you can clearly see how much you love your kids, the whole wild bunch. And there is no chance you hurt the pouting brat in there. The only things scuffed up are his backside and his pride. And by tomorrow, our young dog boy will be trailing and bird-doggin' his mean ol' boss-daddy like the spanked puppy he is."
"Just the same, Trent," Jason said. "I want you to check him over before he falls asleep. His tail was blazing red as an apple, but I was careful not to get carried away just because he scared the hell out of me and pissed me off. I want to be sure I didn't bruise him. And if you think he needs the frozen peas, let him have them."
"I seriously doubt you left a bruise on him," Trent snorted. "And he does not need to have the frozen peas no matter how red his sorry ass is blazing or how pitiful he looks. We don't ice Clay's little tail right after he gets a spanking, and Brock will survive to tell his sad story just like his naughty little brother. But I will give him another few minutes, and then go get him sorted and tucked in for the night."
"Thanks brother," Jason said, standing and heading to the door, followed by Sonny. "You know I couldn't wrangle these boys without you. Text once he's down for the night and let me know if he's okay. We need to be all business tomorrow on base. And Josh and I are going to put the support kids back in line straight away for running their mouths in front of Clay and getting him all worked up."
"Can I monitor the little fuckers' extra punishment drills?" Sonny asked cheerfully.
"You're hired," Jason chuckled. "And tomorrow night we are going to have a team meeting back here to come up with a plan for getting our boys sorted and fit for duty."
"Will the boys be joining us?" Trent asked. "I think Brock should be here. We need to talk honestly with him about what's been going on and how we can help get him through this hard time."
"I agree," Jason said. "Brock is supposedly an adult, and he needs to be there."
"What about the runt?" Sonny asked. "You know hearing about Brock melting down and a team meeting is going to have him in hyper drive."
"As for Trouble," Trent sighed. "He's going to be anxious and possibly pitch a fit, but I think for now Clay needs to stay with Josh until we have something concrete to tell him. He doesn't do well when things are not settled and clearly laid out in front of him."
"I'll ask Josh to keep him another night," Jason agreed. "And if Sunshine decides to pitch a fit, he will take his first official trip across my knee as a newly minted seventeen-year-old. And get sent straight to bed with a red tail to match the one his big brother is currently nursing."
"Let's hope we can avoid that," Sonny sighed.
"Keep hope alive, brother," Trent laughed, waving good-bye and walking back toward the bedroom to check on their boy as promised. "Keep hope alive."