Sad Puppy
Brock was ready for this week to be over.
After finishing a quick but stressful mission in Central America, and a full-day training with his canine partner, Brock was heading back to Bravo's cage room to straighten out his cage, check in with the guys to see what he had missed while being at training all day, and getting the hell out of Dodge for the weekend.
Bravo's young dog handler had just returned Cerb to the kennel, and he was thinking of stopping by the cafeteria to grab a snack to take back to the cages, when his phone buzzed with a text from Bravo's medic and Brock's go to mother hen since he had joined Bravo almost two years earlier.
Trent: Where are you?
Brock: Just dropped off Cerb at the kennel. Headed back your way.
Trent: The boss needs someone to sit with the trouble magnet tonight. Can you do it? Jase needs to be on base for a meeting. My sister and her husband are in town and I'm taking them out to dinner. And the runt is on lockdown - again.
Brock: Sore ass?
Trent: Yup. And he's in a full pout. Mad at the mean world. He has himself worked up and doesn't want to fly solo in the apartment.
Brock: Where is he now?
Trent: Hiding in my cage.
Brock: On my way. Let the boss know I've got him. Katie has her book club tonight. She and her friends will be at the house drinking wine and pretending they actually read this book. I'll take him back to Jason's place. This is the perfect excuse for me to avoid girls' night.
Trent: I've got to get going. Sonny is hanging out until you get here. I'm leaving cash to order dinner for you and the brat. Jason hasn't had a chance to get groceries since we got back.
Brock: What did he do to piss off the boss-daddy this time?
Trent: I'll let Trouble tell you his sad story. He's on the boss' last nerve, so I'm going to stop by the apartment after dinner and pick him up to spend the weekend at my place. Jason needs a break.
Brock: That bad?
Trent: It's a classic. The boss is not amused - and he's not alone. Blackburn was fit to be tied as well. And we all know he rarely gets truly pissed off at the kid.
Brock: You want me to bring him straight to your place so you don't need to drive out of your way? I'll try to tease him out of his snit and get him fed and settled for bed before you get home.
Trent: That's good with me. But Casa Trent is a fun free zone for the baby tonight. And I mean business. He no doubt inspired a new chapter in Metal's ever-lengthening novel 'Bravo Adopts a Blond Menace'. And he did it on base which we all know the boss is absolutely not having. I suspect our boy will be eating his dinner standing at my counter after the well earned spanking he most definitely will be feeling the rest of the evening.
Brock: No fun allowed. I got it.
Trent: Do not let him manipulate you into anything that needs to be charged or plugged in - unless of course you would like to spend the rest of the month next to Clay at the top of the boss' shit list. And if he tries to give you a hard time, call Sonny and he'll come reheat his naughty ass and park him in a corner where he can spend the rest of the night staring at a wall.
Brock: So none of Uncle Trent's magic frozen peas for his sore tail?
Trent: Absolutely not. And I don't care how high he turns up the puppy eyes. Our boy can spend some quality time tonight thinking about what he did wrong and learning yet another painful lesson in cause and effect.
Brock: Copy that. Tell Sonny I'll be there shortly. Have fun with your sister. And don't fret about me and the runt. I've got him.
Trent: I know you do. Because you are a top-shelf big brother. I owe you one.
Brock: I think I owe you about a hundred. And so does Trouble. We'll see you when you get home. Love you.
Trent: Love you back, tough guy. And tell the brat I love him too. No matter how rotten he decides to be. I'll see you later tonight.
When Brock entered the cage room, he found Bravo's resident grouch, who had a top secret soft spot for both him and Clay, sitting at the table reading a newspaper. At the sound of the door opening, Sonny looked up making eye contact with his second youngest boy shaking his head and nodding towards Trent's open cage to indicate the current location of Bravo's Baby as he was known to the other Team guys.
Brock smiled and rolled his eyes without speaking. He held up a bag of Skittles for his much older brother to see before heading into Trent's cage to take a crack at getting his freshly punished little brother out of hiding and ready to head home for the weekend.
"Wish me luck," Brock whispered to Sonny as he dropped his bag on an empty chair before going in to find the kid.
"You can let the little shit know that I am having not an ounce of his nonsense on this fine Friday afternoon," Sonny said, clearly loud enough for Clay to hear from his seat in the back corner of the medic's cage. "And if he decides to test me, he's going to get several good, hard smacks across his already blazing little backside."
"I'll pass that on," Brock said. "But I am confident that my favorite little brother has learned his lesson and will not be pushing any more buttons for at least a week. Possibly a month, if the reports I'm hearing on his most recent trip over the boss' knee are accurate."
"Keep hope alive, son," Bravo Three said, shaking his head and going back to his paper.
Brock knew that Trent had left Sonny the Grouch on guard duty. And he had no doubt his brother wouldn't be going anywhere until the kid was wrangled into submission and the three of them were walking out to the parking lot together.
"Hey there, Squirt," Brock said softly. He sat on the concrete floor in the back corner of Trent's cage next to Clay, who was currently curled up on his side, wearing one of Trent's old Crimson Tide hoodies with the too big, red hood pulled up over his wild, blond curls as further proof that he was in full shutdown, hiding mode.
The kid was using the medic's duffle bag as a pillow, clutching the faded Army green bag with one hand, and rubbing his recently worn out bottom with the other. He peeked up at Brock with his sad, blue eyes looking absolutely pitiful. Brock smiled sympathetically at his miserable baby brother.
Reaching over to tug the hood back and get a better look at the kid, Brock leaned over and gave his messy head a quick kiss. The older kid tossed the bag of Skittles down in front of the boy recently dumped on their collective back porch. Brock had hopes of softening their underage rookie up before luring him out of his not so secret regular hiding place in his most trusted caregiver's cage.
"Where's Trent?" Clay said quietly, picking up the little red bag of his favorite candy, and leaving his current not-so-comfortable pillow behind to turn slowly and rest his exhausted head in his loyal big brother's lap.
Knowing that the kid was upset and feeling sorry for himself, and that when Clay was hurting, he always wanted Trent to make it all better, Brock settled back against the wall of the cage, sliding his hand up under the medic's old hoodie to rub his little brother's warm back. He was quiet for a minute, allowing the runt to settle in his lap.
"Well naughty," Brock teased lightly. "I'm pretty confident that grumpy ol' Trent didn't leave his favorite brat moping in his cage without letting you know that he had a dinner date with his sister and her husband who are visiting from Alabama. And I'm guessing he also promised that his formerly favorite kid was on his way to report for babysitting duty which will be taking place at Uncle Trent's Home for Wayward Boys where you will be spending the weekend in protective custody."
Brock paused to steal a handful of Skittles from his kid before continuing.
"I'm not sure what you did to put both our boss and our boss's boss over the edge today," Brock said. "But I am surely looking forward to hearing all the gory details of your most recent adventure and reportedly well deserved punishment."
Both boys looked up at Sonny who was currently standing in the doorway of Trent's cage, arms folded, shaking his head in full disappointed uncle mode.
"I think you two mayhem makers are dead tied for the title of our soft-hearted medic's favorite brat," Sony said sternly. "And right now, you are both going to pull yourselves together, get up off that cold floor before you catch your deaths, and march out of Trent's cage so that I can fulfill the old prick's orders to get you both headed home to his place ASAP. You both hearin' me loud and clear?"
"Yes, sir," they chorused.
Neither wanting any part of pissed off Sonny, both boys got themselves standing. Brock moved to put Trent's cage back in order while Sonny watched his youngest baby resume rubbing at his sore little butt.
"Come over here, honey," Sonny said gently, opening his arms to invite the clearly unhappy boy in for some much needed coddling. "Let grouchy old Uncle Sonny get a better look at you."
Not needing to be asked twice, Clay went immediately and without hesitation, walking into his trusted uncle's strong arms.
"My butt is still hurting," the kid whined, resting his head against the older man's hard chest and clutching his t-shirt.
"Oh, I don't doubt your little tail is surely regretting the day's naughty nonsense," Sonny said, holding him tight. "Judging from the howlin' and fussin' coming from the boss's cage not too long ago, I'm sure that one of Bravo's finest is sporting a blazing hot, barn red backdoor. And it's not yours truly or the dog-boy over there. So that narrows down the culprits to, by my count, exactly one pint-sized menace."
"Are you mad at me, Sonny?" Clay asked quietly, still wrapped tight in his guard dog's arms.
"I was never mad at you, Shorty," Sonny said, honestly. "And before you get to fretting, none of the other old guys you have wrapped around your finger are mad at you either. Not Trent, not Ray, not even old Blackburn is mad at our favorite troublemaker."
"I think Jason is really mad at me this time, Uncle Sonny," Clay sniffled, trying hard not to start crying like a little kid.
Sonny peeled the clearly regretful boy off his chest, holding him still, making eye-contact. His big old soft heart was aching at the sight of this child who had no business on a tier-one SEAL team of grown-ass men. Knowing the boy only called him 'Uncle Sonny' when he was especially vulnerable, Sonny reached out slowly, careful not to startle his skittish boy and stroked his warm cheek with a calloused thumb.
"Do you think he might get rid of me, Sonny?" Clay said, a lone tear falling down his cheek and wetting the older man's thumb.
"Absolutely, not," Sonny said firmly. "No one is getting rid of you. Not ever. And Jason is not mad at you either. He's not happy with your antics. He's frustrated by your reckless behavior, son. And he's worried that you are going to get yourself hurt or in serious trouble one of these times with your impulsive nonsense. Which is why he punished you today. It's his job to make damn sure you understand that your actions have consequences. Because we all know that you are old enough, and plenty smart enough, to understand the difference between right and wrong. "
Sonny was quiet, glancing back at the other kid to indicate he should get himself moving out of the cage and ready to go home. Continuing to rub Clay's cheek softly, he looked back down at his exhausted boy and smiled to let him know there was no reason to be afraid.
"Jason loves you, no matter how much you continue to test and push buttons," Sonny promised without hesitation. "He's your daddy now, and that is forever. You're his kid, just like Emma and Mikey. He'd do anything for his family - for his babies. And he is never going to get rid of you."
Sonny paused to let that sink into their boy's hard head.
"You understand me, son?" he questioned seriously.
Clay nodded, yawning. "Yes, sir," he whispered, still gripping Sonny's shirt. "I believe you."
"Well, boy," Bravo Three scowled at him with zero heat. "You damn well better believe me. Because I have surely never lied to you. So how about we get moving out of here and off this base. Uncle Sonny is going to follow you boys over to Trent's place and make sure you're settled until the mean old bastard gets home to scold and spoil you both."
"I'm tired," Clay shivered. "And it's cold in here. I want to go home to Trent's house. And he's not a mean old bastard. He's the best. Right Brock?"
"Absolutely, Squirt," Brock agreed. "Trent is the best."
"Well, you're in luck, honey," Sonny said, ruffling his hair and pushing him toward the open door. "Because we are all heading to the home of the best medic any of us will ever see. And when we get there, you have a temp check and likely some fever meds in your near future. Because you feel warm to me, and it's most definitely not cold here."
"You getting sick, Shorty?" Brock asked, reaching out to feel his forehead and cheeks just like Trent had done for both of them too many times to count. "I think Sonny is right. You do feel warm. And you're not looking too perky there. This is going to piss Trent right off. But don't worry. He won't be mad at us. Now, Sonny is a different story. He's likely got a verbal thrashing coming his way for letting you cook up a fever on his watch when the best medic any of us will ever see gets home."
"I'm not scared of that prick," Sonny snorted, leading them out of the building.
"Trent's not a prick," Clay scowled up at him.
"Trent has been my brother since before either one of you was born or even thought of," Sonny grumbled. "And I will call him anything I like, with no feedback from the cheap seats needed."
Bravo Three stopped to point at his boys.
"You Trouble, had better hold your sassy tongue when you talk to me," Sonny scolded. "And nix the repeating of my foul language. Unless while I'm getting you brats settled for the night, you'd like to sample some of the Irish Spring your hero Uncle Trent keeps handy in his kitchen drawer, right under the hook where he has conveniently hung his trusty spanking spoon. Which if feeble old Sonny remembers correctly, he not so long ago occasionally used on another young rookie I remember who once or twice did a little of his own troublemaking."
"No way!" Clay smirked, turning to look at Brock who was rolling his eyes and shaking his head at Sonny.
"I thought we had established that 'What happens on Bravo stays on Bravo'? Brock grumped at his much older and bigger brother.
"This is Bravo," Sonny laughed, putting an arm around each of his boys and leading them out to the parking lot.
"Whatever," Brock scoffed.
"Someone on Bravo definitely needs to be sharing more on that topic," Clay said, leaning into Sonny as they walked together out to the lot. "It's not fair that everyone acts like I'm the only one who ever has done anything wrong around here."
"I know, Trouble," Sonny said solemnly, giving him a squeeze and kissing his head. "It's not easy being you."