Bedtime Stories
Once Sonny had followed their youngest back to Trent's house, he sent Brock out to pick them up some burgers from the Bulkhead. Bravo Three got Clay, who was still feeling sorry for himself, into his comfortable sleep pants and one of Trent's old t-shirts laying on his belly quietly watching and listening to his grouchy uncle bitch.
"Shorty," Sonny said, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head. "Can you explain to me how Grumpletstiltskin considers himself the best medic around, and he doesn't even have a damn thermometer in this old shack? Does that make any sense to you?"
"Trent is the best," Clay pouted, looking up at the older man with his feverish blue eyes. "He keeps all his medic stuff in his bag. It's probably in the back of his truck. And I'm not even sick, so you don't need to take my temperature."
Sonny crouched down next to the kid who most definitely was running a pretty good fever judging by his red cheeks and tell-tale miserable attitude. Reaching over to feel his boy's forehead and cheeks, Sonny put his other hand on the squirming kid's lower back to hold him still.
"Relax, Trouble," he said gently, breaking out the soft tone of voice he only ever used with Bravo's adopted baby.
Sonny slid his hand up under the worn out old t-shirt the kid had dug out from his favorite uncle's drawer in what his current caregiver recognized as a clear sign their boy was feeling crappy and wanting Trent. Having Sonny's cool hand rubbing his hot back had the desired effect, and Clay immediately settled, sinking into the old, worn out couch and looking up at his trusted protector pitifully.
"I don't feel good," he finally admitted, curling up in a ball and reaching out to grab hold of Sonny's sleeve. "My stomach hurts. And my butt is still sore."
"You think this bellyache is coming from you getting yourself all worked up and nervous worrying about the fallout from today's adventures?" Sonny questioned softly, moving his hand from the kid's back to stroke his messy curls. "Or do you feel like I need to break out the puke bucket?"
"I'm not sure, Sonny," Clay said honestly. "My belly is kind of crampy and growly. But I don't feel like I'm going to puke right now."
"Hmm," Sonny said, using his rough thumb to stroke his much loved kid's forehead. "Crampy and growly sounds like maybe you need to try to do some business on the toilet, honey. What do you think?"
"Maybe," Clay grumped, not anxious to release his hold on Sonny's sleeve. "But, I'm not exactly looking forward to spending any time sitting on the hard toilet seat."
Sonny chuckled, shaking his head. "No squirt," he said sympathetically. "I don't guess you are. But if you need to go, I'm not seeing any other option. And you know old Uncle Sonny hates to add insult to injury, but I think we both know who brought on his own sore backside now don't we?"
"Yes, sir," Clay admitted quietly. "I know it was my own fault, and I'm sorry."
"I know you are, honey," Sonny said. "And so does Jason. You did something you knew was wrong, the boss punished you, and it's over. No one is mad at you. And we aren't going to dwell on it. And you were correct that you are not the first kid to find himself in trouble with the boss."
"Really Sonny?" Clay asked hesitantly. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"
"Nope, kiddo," Sonny promised. "As always, I am telling you God's honest truth. And if you don't believe me, you can ask your big brother Brock to tell you about some of his rookie adventures when he gets back."
"Okay," Clay said softly, still curled up looking uncomfortable.
"But for now," Sonny said, forcing the kid to sit up. "How about you take the book I know you keep in Uncle Trent's bathroom, have yourself a seat, and see if there's any action. The last thing we need is for the old grump to get home and find his boy sporting a bellyache to go along with his fever."
"I'll try Sonny," Clay said, standing up and heading toward the bathroom. "But I'm not sure if it's that kind of bellyache."
"We won't know until you see if using the bathroom helps," Sonny explained patiently. "I'm going to give Brock a call and have him pick up a thermometer at Walgreens on his way back here since apparently Trent is hoarding his med supplies in his big ol' bag."
"Will you tell Brock to get the ear one?" Clay called from the bathroom.
"You know Doc Trent isn't a fan of the ear one," Sonny said, texting Brock from the bathroom doorway where he was confirming the kid was indeed on the toilet with his book.
"I told him to get the 'open up and under your tongue' one that Trent thinks is better," Sonny chuckled at the glare being thrown his way by the grumpy and unreasonable kid.
"How come I never get what I want?" Clay pouted, sounding all of twelve. "That one tastes weird."
"Keep it up, brat," Sonny teased. "And I'm gonna have Brock bring back the old 'turn over and count to one hundred'. As I recall, you became very familiar with that nurse's favorite during your stay on the kiddie ward not too long ago."
"You're mean, Sonny," Clay said, looking back at this book. "And not funny."
"Damn straight," Bravo Three said, heading back to the kitchen. "And I'm the warden tonight. So you might want to keep that in mind before you start acting up, Trouble."
Later that night, Trent sat with Clay who was tucked in what had become known as "The Brat's Room". He was warm and safe, leaning up against his most trusted caregiver, slowly sipping a blue slushie from McDonalds which Bravo's medic had secretly spiked with the Pedialyte his fevered boy had refused to swallow for either Sonny or Brock. It had been a long ass day for Bravo, and the team's go-to kid wrangler was having a harder time than expected putting Clay to sleep.
Trent and Jason had only just recently confirmed what Bravo had known all along; there was no way the child currently curled up and clinging to the medic's side was a twenty-year-old young adult with two years in the Navy. After a long day of the boss and his loyal medic slowly and gently teasing out the true story of Clay's horrible childhood and abandonment by the biological father who tossed him away like garbage, the kid admitted the backstory Ash Spencer created with approval from upper brass was a sham.
Bravo's Baby, as he had become known among the team guys, had only recently turned sixteen. Jason's old friend and former team leader had reluctantly gone along with the plan to place the kid who upper brass justified as 'only a year too young to legitimately enlist' on a tier-one team based on the highly valued and rare language skills he had developed as a young child living with his grandparents who were aid workers in rural Liberia.
It had been successfully argued that, in addition to his exemplary skill as a sniper, Clay, being a white American who could easily pass as a kid traveling with his family in locations around the world, would be a valuable asset for going unnoticed while both eavesdropping and translating conversations that would provide valuable information to the Navy's CIA liaisons. So rules were 'bent', stories fabricated, and thanks to Adam's guilt for going along with something he knew was wrong on so many levels, Clay was unceremoniously dropped on the doorstep of Jason Hayes who his old friend had no doubt would properly train, protect and care for the boy as he had done with all of his rookies in the past.
What no one had anticipated, including Adam, was the almost immediate bond Bravo would develop with the curly haired kid.
He was first known among the other team leaders as 'the blond menace', 'trouble', 'brat', and as Alpha One had christened the kid 'all around pain in the ass'. And for the first few weeks, Bravo was in total agreement. But the tier-one operators were all smart, perceptive, well-trained, alpha males. It didn't take long for them to recognize Clay as a wounded child who had been abused and abandoned by every adult who should have loved and cared for him.
Trent caved first, followed by Brock, his big brother's shadow and Bravo's other young rookie. Jason, who took pride in being a hard ass, tried to fight it. But Bravo's team leader and master chief was in his heart a born father who could not turn away from a kid clearly crying out for help. Ray, the only other father on the team, could easily recognize Clay's annoying behavior as a shield that he had created and hardened throughout a childhood filled with trauma. And bad-ass, miserable, old school Sonny, who Metal put good money on the table betting his long-time brother would never crack, fell faster and harder than anyone thought possible for the blue-eyed runt who enjoyed following him around like a naughty puppy, yapping and nipping at his ankles and never giving up no matter how many times he was growled at, scolded or spanked.
Once Hayes and his team had not only accepted, but clearly circled the wagons around their new kid, making it clear that he was under their care and protection, he was accepted and looked out for by his fellow tier-one older brothers as well. Metal coined the name 'Bravo's Baby' to refer to the kid whether he was on his best behavior or wreaking havoc. The name stuck, and it was official, Bravo Six was forever part of their extended SEAL Team family.
Trent had returned from dinner with his sister and brother-in-law to find Brock straightening up his kitchen while Sonny was in the bathroom holding Clay over the toilet while their kid puked up his dinner.
"You didn't think it was a good idea to call and give me a heads up Sonny?" Trent bitched, from the doorway of the bathroom.
"No," Sonny said, getting the kid who appeared to be at least temporarily finished with the puke and shit show back on his wobbly legs. He grimaced, flushing the nasty remnants of Clay's dinner down the toilet before turning to give the sweaty kid, who was not looking or smelling his freshest, a light push toward his chosen surrogate mama, indicating it was his turn to take over as nurse maid to the sick kid.
"I knew you'd be showing up eventually," Sonny continued, turning to take a much needed rest on the closed toilet seat. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees and shaking his head. "This one is a full fucking time job for sure. As you can see, he's cooked up a fever with a side of emptying his queasy belly from both ends. And his naughty little tail is still a nice shade of red and reminding him of the day's bad behavior for which he is sorely sorry, in addition to fretting over his daddy's return."
"Lovely," Trent sighed, making eye contact with his longtime brother. Turning the kid sideways, the medic tugged down his sleep pants to examine his sore bottom without warning.
"Trent," the kid whined, squirming to look back at the older man over his shoulder. "I'm not a baby who needs his butt checked."
That got a chuckle out of both Bravos Three and Four.
"You, runt," Sonny said dismissively, reaching out to still the kid so Trent could get a good look. "You are very much still a baby. And you are our baby now, so you might as well accept it. And I'm going to strongly suggest that you keep still before your uncle Trent gives you a good swat across your bare tush and a reason to hop and pout."
"Be still, Clay," Trent ordered sternly, immediately stilling the kid who knew very well when his much-loved uncle meant business. Once he was cooperative, the senior team member softened his voice to let his sick kid know he wasn't in trouble. "Relax, sweetheart. You haven't got anything back here we all haven't seen a hundred times before. Since when did you become shy?"
"I'm not shy," Clay said quietly. "But, I'm sick of being treated like a baby all the time by everyone."
"Well, honey," Trent said lightly, righting the boy's pants and giving his sore bottom a gentle pat. "Sonny is correct that you're most certainly the baby to us old grumps, and that's not going to change anytime soon, so you might as well make peace with it."
Clay turned to wrap his arms around his best caregiver's middle, holding tight to the much older man, and resting his throbbing head on Trent's firm chest.
"I don't feel good, Trent," the kid said pitifully. "How come you were gone so long? I've been waiting for you."
"Oh yeah," Sonny snorted, pushing himself up tiredly and stopping to give their kid a quick kiss on his messy head while on his way out to check Brock's progress cleaning up the kitchen. "Old Sonny spies one definitely 'not a baby' who is a sweaty, stinky, hot mess in need of a nice cool bath and hair scrubbing. And if Uncle Trent bites the bullet and does the honors, yours truly will take care of cleaning and disinfecting this crime scene while the other 'not a kid' gets back home to his perky young honey, and 'the best medic ever' puts someone we know and love straight to bed."
"You promised to tell me all about the trouble Brock caused when he first joined Bravo," Clay said, looking up at Sonny without lifting his tired head off his favorite uncle's chest.
"You behave yourself and mind Trent," Sonny said firmly. "And I'll come in and tell you a bedtime story once you are tucked in and Grumplestiltskin gives the green light to story time. Deal?"
"Okay Trent?" Clay asked hopefully, looking up at the man he adored and turning up the sad puppy eyes to full power. "Back on base, Sonny said he was going to tell me all about Brock when he was the rookie. I promise I'll be good."
"Metal is right that you have me wrapped tight around your grimy little finger," Trent said. "And you are always good. But, the question is are you going to behave and mind with limited whining while I do what needs to be done to get you cleaned up, checked out, medicated, and ready for bed. If the answer is 'yes, sir', then I am inclined to go out to pick up a blue slushie to help my favorite baby feel better while Uncle Sonny stays back here with you hosting story time."
"Are you going to give me shots?" Clay asked hesitantly, fearing he already knew the answer to that one.
"Yes," Trent said, simply with zero room for argument.
"How many?" Clay asked miserably.
"Two," Trent said, releasing his tight hold on the kid, and turning to fill the tub. "You're getting one jab to help cool you down, and one to stop the pukes and poops."
"Can I get them in my arm this time?" Clay asked hopefully.
"Nope," Trent said, motioning for his boy to undress and hop in the tub. "Sorry, buddy."
"I hate this day," Clay grumped, leaving his sleep pants and shirt in a pile on the floor and slowly climbing into the tub. Sighing, he sank down into the lukewarm water. "Feels good."
"I'm glad to hear that, Shorty," Sonny said, making eye contact with Trent from the doorway. "And I'm thinking that, since it's been a rotten day for our favorite troublemaker, maybe mean ol' Uncle Trent will lift his ban on frozen peas and approve some time in the frozen tush zone for our very sorry and on his best behavior for the rest of the weekend baby."
"Can I have the magic peas, Trent?" Clay asked, making the prayer hands like a second grader in church. "My butt is really aching. I swear it is."
Trent rolled his eyes, shaking his head at both Sonny and the kid.
"I have no doubt your little tail is aching," he scolded. "You caused a scene, on a Navy base, which brought the boss's boss down from his office, in addition to the boss of the poor corporal running the kitchen, who you lied to and scammed with the boss's signature, which you had the outrageous nerve to forge."
Brock had joined Sonny in the doorway. They were both trying to hide their amusement at the mental image of the pissed off Navy captains in an uproar, ranting at the confused and flustered corporal who Bravo's brat had attempted to scam with a fake doctor's note and a forged order for daily Mountain Dew to supposedly combat 'low blood sugar'.
Meanwhile, Trouble had been attempting to hide behind Sonny from the boss, who looked as if his head might explode like a cartoon character. Jason was promising to give their boy a backside scorcher he'd be feeling for the rest of the day, before putting him to bed where Clay would be spending the night sleeping on his empty belly and deeply regretting his completely unacceptable and dishonest behavior. But, by the time they had left the scene, both Blackburn and the corporal's boss were softening and taking pity on the clearly sorry boy who was very much aware he was soon to be in a world of hurt.
"Alright Hayes," the Captain from upstairs said. "Don't lose your temper with the boy. Clearly he needs to be punished. But it's not the end of the world. The corporal used his head and came to you before any real harm could be done."
"He's right, Jason," Blackburn agreed, melting at the sad sight of the kid who knew he was going to get it good, peeking out miserably from behind Sonny. "I'm sure Clay knows now that this was a very bad idea. I have no doubt he deeply regrets his unacceptable behavior. And I think we all know your boy will be feeling the consequences for his bad choices after the unpleasant 'discussion' that will be painful for you both."
Blackburn paused to address Clay who was hoping in vain to disappear behind The Mighty Quinn. "And if you were my son, young man," he said sternly. "You wouldn't sit straight for a week. But now that I'm a mellow and reflective granddad with a grandson of my own who is your age, I have become a giver of what I consider sage advice."
"I think becoming a granddaddy has that effect on us all," the upstairs Captain agreed.
"Bravo One," Blackburn said, turning back to smile at Jason out of the kid's view. "I'm going to suggest that you take a few deep breaths, and possibly walk down to get yourself a cold drink before dealing with your boy here. A little time to stew in his own juices and think about what I'm guessing is your non-negotiable upcoming discussion might just do this one some good."
"That sounds like good advice to me Erick," the upstairs Captain concurred. "And son, if you take a few minutes to calm down, I'm guessing you'll realize that maybe starving out the devil from this little featherweight won't be necessary once you've 'spanked ol' Lucifer out the boy's back door' as my own daddy would say."
The captain took a few steps back to peer behind Sonny and get a better look at the young culprit who created the day's havoc. The gray haired officer shook his head and smiled sympathetically at the sight of the very sorry boy who clearly should be causing mischief with friends at school, not bored and lonely among grown men on a Naval base.
"Curly Top over here is likely to be put to bed feeling bad enough about today's misadventures without needing an empty, aching belly to keep him up half the night," the captain continued. "Tomorrow's a new day. And I have no doubt young Spenser will have learned a valuable life lesson about the consequences of his bad behavior, and likely he'll be ready to start fresh in the morning with his hard earned knowledge."
"Little boy," Jason said, clearly meaning business. "I'm going to walk the Captain back up to his office so that I can apologize again on behalf of Bravo for your behavior which I think we all can agree was disrespectful to all involved, and specifically to the corporal here who has gone out of his way to cater to you at mealtimes."
"I'm sorry, Ben," Clay spoke quietly to the corporal who he really liked. The kid was trying hard not to tear up in front of the annoyed grown men at the sight and sound of his clearly angry boss and chosen dad.
"Apology accepted, runt," the corporal smiled, tousling the kid's messy curls. "How about Monday, once the smoke has cleared, you stop by and I'll see if I can dig up one of those brownies with the sprinkles you like so much. After you finish your vegetables, of course."
"Thanks Ben," he said, still standing close to Sonny who was squeezing his sweaty neck softly, letting his boy know he was there and everything was going to be okay.
Nodding to Bravo One and the two captains, the corporal made a hasty exit back to his comfort zone in the base cafeteria.
"Son," Jason said, his voice calm and firm, but much softer thanks to the eye contact from Trent. "You can take a seat in my cage and do some quiet reflecting on what exactly you were thinking today. I will be back shortly, and we will be continuing this discussion."
"Yes, sir," Clay said, voice wavering.
"And Sunshine," Jason added, moving to follow his bosses out the door. "I want you to do your best to roll back the panic mode. Trent and Sonny are here with you. Ray should be arriving soon, and I will be back after I walk the captains upstairs and chat with Ben in the kitchen. I'm not going to coddle you and say our discussion will be easy, because it won't. It's going to be painful for us both. But I will never stop loving you, or do anything to hurt you. I'm going to punish you because it's my job as your boss and father to teach you that actions have consequences. Getting punished is not fun for anyone. But I promise that you are going to be fine. I'm obviously annoyed, frustrated, and very disappointed in your behavior today. But I am not mad or disappointed in you as my kid. Capice?"
"Yes, sir," Clay responded respectfully, before looking over pitifully at both Sonny and Trent whose stern expressions had not softened.
"You heard the boss," Trent said once it was just the three of them alone in the room. "March that little tail into the boss's cage and do some thinking."
"Do I have to close the cage door, Trent?" Clay asked nervously as he hesitated at the entrance.
Sonny turned toward his own cage, his heart aching at the sight of his anxious boy clearly begging for reassurance that he was safe. Knowing this was Trent's wheelhouse, Sonny was going to avoid the drama as long as possible.
"No, baby. The door stays open," Trent said gently, walking with him into Jason's cage and pointing toward the open folding chair across from the boss's shelves. "Take a seat. Jason will likely be a little while. You want a bottle of water to keep your hands busy?"
"No," the kid whispered miserably, taking his appointed seat in what was clearly, at least temporarily, the naughty chair. "I'm not thirsty."
"Okay, then," Trent said, keeping it short and bending over to give his head a quick kiss to assure his boy that he was not angry with him despite his reckless nonsense. "Make yourself comfortable, shorty. Sonny and I will be out here if you need us."
"I love you guys," Clay said, looking up with his watery blue eyes, dreading the upcoming 'discussion'.
"We love you more, Trouble," Sonny called from his cage before Trent had a chance to respond. "And as someone who was party to many painful discussions with my own daddy, I'm going to strongly recommend you glue your naughty tail to that seat and get started on that 'stewing in your juices' the old captains rightly suggested would do you a world of good."
"Yes, sir," Clay said, hanging his head to wait for the 'non-negotiable' discussion with his boss-daddy that was soon to be coming his way.
Later that night, as promised, Sonny sat on the couch with Clay curled up under his arm listening intently to his bedtime story. Trent's medicine had worked to bring down his fever and settled his churning belly. And after the two dreaded shots in his still pink bottom, the medic relented and brought out the magic frozen peas to ease his aching butt.
Brock had gone home to his pretty young wife, leaving with Trent who was headed out to pick up popsicles, Pedialyte, and the kid's favorite blue slushie which Bravo Four knew from experience would soothe his exhausted boy's irritated throat and help settle him for the night. Trent returned an hour later with a case of Bud Light to share with his brother Sonny who was worn out from kid wrangling, and Jason, who he expected to be stopping by to check on his naughty kid and decompress from the crazy end to a long, stressful week.
When he came through the front door juggling his purchases, Trent was pleasantly surprised to see Sonny had the kid significantly calmer than when he had left. Clay appeared to have recovered from the much maligned tush shots, and he was looking exhausted but entertained and amused by Sonny's no doubt exaggerated retelling of Brock's rookie adventures. The kid had hit the wall and he looked ready to pass out in Sonny's lap, but Trent could see he was fighting hard to keep his eyes open to hear more about the trouble his big brother had caused himself back before Clay had taken over as the master chief of troublemaking.
When Trent entered, Clay looked up from his current position, flopped across Sonny's outstretched legs which were propped up on the coffee table. The kid's arms were wrapped around the pillow he was using to rest his head while his secretly soft-hearted uncle was holding the thawed but still cold bag of peas against his upturned bottom with one hand and rubbing his back to keep him still with the other.
"Trent," Clay said, refusing to just close his eyes and let himself sleep. "Is it true that when Brock was your rookie, before he met Katie and he was still living in the dorms that Jason paddled his butt with the spoon for getting drunk with his friends and fighting in a bar?"
"Sure did, Shorty," Trent confirmed, walking past him and Sonny lounging on the couch to drop his packages in the kitchen.
He returned with a popsicle for the kid and beers for him and his haggard looking brother, along with the thermometer to confirm the shot of fever reducer was doing its job. The medic took a seat on the low table across from his sick boy. Reaching out, resting his hand on the boy's still warm head and gently stroking Clay's forehead with his thumb, Trent chuckled at the kid's surprised expression.
"Brock really got spanked?" Clay confirmed. "He was like twenty-one, Trent. I don't think you are allowed to spank someone who is twenty-one."
"Open up and under your tongue, nosey," Trent said, wiping down the thermometer.
"Why can't I have the ear one?" Clay whined. "That stuff you use to clean it tastes bad."
"Because I'm the medic, and I decide what's best," Trent said firmly. "But if you prefer, there are other options available."
"Fine," Clay grouched, opening up so Trent could do his thing. He was well aware that his favorite uncle did not bluff, and he wanted no part of Trent's other option for taking his temperature.
"And as far as your big brother is concerned," Trent said, taking out the thermometer when it beeped. "How he was handled as a rookie is none of your concern. And in this family, which both you and Brock are part of, reckless and disrespectful behavior is sure to get you punished. And if someone who is twenty-one and thinks he's all grown up decides it's a good idea to act like an out of control child, he's likely to find out that he's not too big for a dance with the spanking spoon after all. So I suggest you keep that in mind going forward."
"I think you guys are punking me," Clay said suspiciously. "Tomorrow I'm gonna ask Brock if these stories Sonny has been telling me are true. Brock is like an Eagle Scout. He's good like Corey is good. I can't even picture him getting drunk and arrested for fighting. No offense Sonny, but that sounds like something you and Metal would do when you were twenty-one, not Brock."
Sonny made a face to show he was mortified at that suggestion. While Trent laughed and handed the kid a popsicle.
"He's got you there, Sonny," Trent snorted.
"And as for you, Squirt," Trent said, sitting back down to make eye contact with Clay. "You have exactly five minutes to finish that popsicle and head to the bathroom to brush your teeth and get yourself ready for bed. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," Clay said, yawning and leaning back against Sonny. "I'm tired."
"I can see that, honey," Trent said. "You've got yourself a stomach bug. Hopefully it's just a twenty-four hour thing, and you'll start feeling better by tomorrow night, but we'll see how it goes."
"Do you think Jason is going to stop over to see me tonight?" Clay questioned quietly, glancing over at the clock on the wall. "Do you think he's still frustrated and disappointed with me?"
"The boss told me he was going to stop by to check on you and say goodnight after he finished up his meeting with Adam and Blackburn," Trent said. "But, you Sleepy, are not waiting up. You're sick, and you need to get a good night's rest."
"And as for the boss-daddy being disappointed," Sonny added. "I think we all clearly heard him say that he was disappointed in your behavior and the choices you made today. Absolutely not disappointed in you as his kid."
"Sonny is right, honey," Trent backed his brother up. "You blew right past naughty today to give 'I think I'll lose my mind' a try. Clearly, I think we can agree that was a very bad idea. You were punished for your behavior, and it's water under the bridge now. Jason is getting over it, and he will come in to say goodnight when he gets here. We good?"
"Yes, sir," Clay yawned again, handing the sticky red popsicle wrapper and stick to Sonny. "Do you think Brock will stop over tomorrow? I want to get the straight story from him."
"I don't know what he and Katie have planned for the weekend, Squirt," Trent said, getting the kid up on his feet. "But you can always fact check Uncle Sonny's story at work on Monday if you are doubting the accuracy of his bedtime story."
"Okay, Trent," Clay said, trudging behind the older man toward the back of the house to the bathroom and what was now his bedroom. "Don't forget to have Jason come say goodnight."
"I'm all over it, Trouble," Trent promised. "And as far as your big brother Brock is concerned. Despite his rare bad choices when he was just starting out with us, you are absolutely correct that Brock is a great kid, and tries to be a role model for both you and Corey. You would do well to learn from his example."
"Yes, sir," Clay said, climbing into bed and turning on his side to rest his aching head against Trent's arm. He slowly sipped the blue slushie, but he was fighting hard to stay awake until Jason showed up to check on him. He was truly sorry for the trouble he had caused and wanted to see his dad before falling asleep.
Trent let the kid finish his icy treat before confiscating the empty cup and getting him lying comfortably, tucked under the covers.
"How's your tail doing, honey?" Trent questioned softly, rubbing the kid's back, confident he would be out soon.
"Not so bad now," Clay mumbled. "Thanks for letting me have the peas, Uncle Trent. I love you."
'Love you too, sweetheart," Trent said, kissing his sleepy boy's head and leaning back against the wall to sit with his kid and confirm that he was indeed out for the night.
Two hours later, the kid was sleeping like the dead in Trent's spare room while the three senior members of Bravo were playing cards and laughing around the kitchen table.
"You told the kid about picking up Brock at the police station, Sonny?" Jason said, shaking his head. "That seemed like a good idea to you when we all know Trouble doesn't need to hear about any past adventures that may inspire him to copy his big brother's temporary insanity."
"He was going to hear about it eventually, Boss," Sonny said, folding his hand and standing to get another round of drinks. "The poor kid was feeling lower than a snake's belly in a rainstorm after the indignity of howling like a naughty twelve-year-old while you blistered his bare tail right there in the cages in front of a live studio audience."
"He needed to get his tail torn up, Sonny," Trent said. "And you know it."
"We all know he had it coming," Sonny said. "I'm not saying he didn't deserve what he got. I'm just saying, he was miserable when it was over, embarrassed and sorry for himself. He needed some cheering up, and to hear that he's not the first kid to find himself across his daddy's knee with his pants around his ankles. We've all been there, and we lived to grow up and laugh about it. And so will he. But tonight, his little ass is still sore, and it seems like everyone is mad at him, he can't do anything right, and tomorrow he might wake up and find out the sky has fallen. He needed someone to remind him it's not the end of the world. Even Eagle Scouts like Brock mess up sometimes."
Sonny shook his head grinning. "And I know we can all agree that there are some entertaining stories to tell about our resident angel when he was the new baby,"