"Big, fat, hairy deal," Jordan said sullenly, and yelped as his lover's hand contacted sharply with his bottom. "Ow! Jake, that's MEAN!"
"My shifts are clearly posted up in the kitchen," Sullivan said sternly, "It's not like they come as any surprise to you."
"You're the captain of the block for Pete's sake," Jordan yanked his lover's tie out of reach and stalked away to the window with it, arms folded. Unhurriedly, Sullivan got up and followed him, hand outstretched.
Sullivan took a seat and lifted his hissing, spitting partner off balance and over his knee, tucking him firmly enough under one arm to prevent him diving headfirst for the carpet. The other hand found its way under Jordan's shirt and tugged down the tight, closefitting briefs to half-mast.
"You weren't debating, matey boy." Sullivan's hand ran over his backside, warning him that his voice was rising. "You were shouting."
"I had good reason for shouting, I HATE you going on night shifts!" Jordan yelled, losing his temper.
"I'm sorry," Jordan pleaded, "I won't say it again-"
"Good. I also don't like listening to stamping, whining and shouting when things don't go the way you want."
"And I don't like sulking. Which is something I think you know."
"I do!" Jordan said hastily. "I'm sorry, I won't, I promise! I'll be good, I won't make a fuss about night shifts any more; I swear I won't."
It was amazing how rapidly Jordan's erratic moods focused in this position. Sullivan emphasised his point with three more sound swats to the now bright pink bottom over his lap and slid Jordan to his feet, holding his arms.
Jordan climbed under the covers but clung, pulling until Sullivan sat down and bent his head, wrapping both arms tightly around the slight, curved body of his partner. Jordan buried his face in Sullivan's shirt, inhaling deeply. All the scents that meant Jake, the soft bass growl in his ear that was more comforting than anything else in the world.
"I HATE when you're gone all night," Jordan said a lot more plaintively into his neck. Sullivan ran both hands down his back, rubbing soothingly along the curves of his spine. Slight and fluid as a dancer, his Jordan.
"So let them talk to other people!"
"It's my job; it's my block and my inmates," Sullivan said firmly. "And I pull the same number of night shifts everyone else does, that's also my job. Go to sleep, I'll be back before you wake up."
"Nothing wrong with now," Jordan slid his hands through Sullivan's, trying to pull his head down. "It's quiet. It's dark. No one's going to disturb us….."
"No!" Jordan held onto him, ignoring the held out boxers. "Come on, no one'll know- lock your door if you're worried!"
"Jordan, it's not going to happen." Sullivan sat him down and sighed as Jordan promptly curled into a tight, undressable ball. "You want to walk across the quad like that?"
"We can do things properly here! Jake no one's going to see……."
"I'm on duty." Jake pulled Jordan to his feet to get his jeans on. Jordan swiped them out of his hands.
"Stop right there," Sullivan said sternly. "I'm saying not when I'm on duty and that's final. Back to bed with you, get some sleep and I'll see you in the morning."
"The residential block?" Jake grabbed the phone up, dialling the internal number for the front desk. The guard shook his head.
"To where you could see it, he was quite frank about that," one of the security guards agreed.
Jake took a seat. The Governor looked at his pen for a long time, turning it in his fingers.
Nuisance making. Very similar to what Jake saw around the base. He cleared his throat.
Which the Governor fully understood in all their behavioural cases, he had high standards and was a strict and very fair disciplinarian. Apparently, however, his skills didn't extend to family. There was a moment's silence, then the Governor looked at his captain guard.
Silence again. Jake shook his head when the Governor didn't answer, wondering if he'd live to regret this offer, but he saw in Jordan what he saw in many of the kids who arrived at his block on the base with a history of trouble. A kid screaming for attention, for notice to be taken of him, for something to regulate what he didn't know how to start managing and teach him what to do with it. A kid dropped in the middle of adulthood without any of the skills or knowledge to survive there.
"In what capacity?" the Governor said wryly. Jake tapped his pen on his writing pad.
"He's not so very different at all," Jake disagreed. "We've got the immature and the irresponsible ones in amongst the anger management lot-"
"He's a baby; I'm not even sure he should be around our guys. I'm not that sure he's safe!"
"He's perfectly safe and he's in exactly the right place. Clear rules, clear boundaries and none of our guys are going to look twice at his tantrums; they can all throw far more impressive ones themselves. And they're his age. What he principally needs is keeping very busy; once he's got somewhere to be from seven to ten PM he'll have no time or energy for being difficult.
"DON'T YOU DARE."
"It’s cold out here."
"I want to go in now."
"Classes don't finish for another half-hour." Sullivan folded his arms, getting comfortable on the bench. "You opted out of the activities on offer; you didn't want to be there."
"I don't want to be out here either!"
His brat's response was two words, both succinct and to the point. Getting up, Sullivan made his way across the quad and pressed the call bell beside the door. Jordan followed, hands dug in his pockets, prepared now to deal with the compromise option he confidently expected. Sullivan didn't look at him.
"You're a resident on this base, and I'm responsible for you." Sullivan took a seat and opened the laptop. And fixed Jordan with a stare at the first sign of movement. "If this gets broken, matey boy, you will be spending every solitary second of your free time in the office, copying every single programme word by word from the main computer onto my new laptop until it's done. And that will be in addition to turning you across my knee and tanning your backside purple."
"Then don't act like one," Sullivan suggested briefly, settling to work. He was aware of Jordan kicking both the door, and the jacket.
"Can I go home now?" Jordan pleaded. Sullivan shook his head.
"I'm hungry," Jordan said plaintively, "Can't I go to dinner? Please? I'll be quiet? I've learned my lesson or whatever else you want to make me to say?"
"I'll keep an eye on him," the guard nodded towards Jordan's room. Jake picked up a jog as he reached the connecting corridor between the two blocks, covering the corridor rapidly. Jordan was tired, angry and bereft of an audience; he wouldn't keep his outrage up for long. Unlike many of the other youngsters here who were more than capable of steaming all night, Sullivan gave his brat about ten minutes before he was curled up with the blanket and sulking himself to sleep. However annoyed he was about being locked in, like all the other inmates of red block, he associated it as a place of safety.
He didn't have to look around to know the boy was following him.
"You throw food around, you get thrown out, it's that simple and you know it." Jake took a long swallow of coffee and looked past Adam at the guard waiting in the doorway.
Adam's face didn't lighten. Rob put a hand on his arm, still holding the door open.
Jake kept his eyes on his mug, letting Rob's voice gain the authority necessary.
The door opened, then swung shut and when Jake looked up, Adam was walking ahead of Rob towards the interview room at the end of the corridor, still muttering but moving under his own steam. He knew what to expect when he got there, which was what most of his 'appeal' had been about. Adam, after only three weeks with them, was still shocked when he was challenged like this, after years of effectively scaring people into leaving him alone. Unfortunately for him, hurling small objects, shouting and swearing were hardly big gun tactics here. And spanking, for him, was a very effective and immediate deterrent. It was only one of the many behavioural management strategies used on the base, and it wasn't useful for everyone, but for those for whom it did work, it was one of the most effective methods in their repertoire. Jordan Dayne was another very good subject, little as he appreciated the fact. Sipping coffee, Jake surveyed the heads of his inmates, picking out Jordan's without effort. Jordan's dagger gaze met his across the room.
"You're dressed," Jake pointed out. Jordan nearly fizzed with rage.
"You have a class now, you're on the base until seven PM ," Jake said calmly. "Just like every day. What you don't have, you do without."
"You are a TOTAL bastard!" Jordan erupted. "It's YOUR fault I'm here without clothes, YOU locked me in last night-"
"I WANT my clothes!" Jordan demanded. Jake waited, arms folded. He could see the battle going on in his brat, common sense warring against the desire to speak his mind. Sense and self preservation won. With a poisonous glare, Jordan headed towards the education block.
"That's someone else's job, not mine," Jake said pointedly.
Jordan didn't move. Jake went to him, took his hand and pulled him up.
"I'd rather stay with Alec," Jordan said unsteadily, scuffing down the corridor rather than struggling with Jake's firm grasp on his hand. "He's nicer than you."
Jake didn't answer. Just held open his office door and indicated the sofa.
"How was I horrible?"
"You committed an act of pure vandalism and temper last night; anyone on the base behaving like that would have ended in holding cell. You know that."
This was not going the way that Jordan had anticipated. Frustrated, he stamped, bringing Jake's eyes up from his mail.
"I WASN'T thrown out of class, I was too upset, Martin TOLD the guard to bring me back!" Jordan said furiously. "I didn't do anything wrong!"
"That's YOUR fault!" Jordan retorted. "If you hadn't been so MEAN-"
"Sofa," Jake said shortly, interrupting. He returned to his work. He heard the thud of Jordan flinging himself down. A few moments later he heard the first sniffle. And five minutes later he was nearly knocked over by the thud of Jordan crashing into him, both arms winding around his neck.
"I'm sorry!" Jordan protested, clinging more tightly. Jake peeled his hands away and made him sit back to see his face.
"Everyone's got more self control than me," Jordan said piteously. Jake shook his head, not for a moment deluded.
"It was about you though, not the base!" Jordan wailed. "That's NOT fair, I'm NOT an inmate, you can't DO that!"
"You've led me to believe I can't trust you out of full supervision and in a safe environment," Jake said sternly. "That was your choice, Jordan. You have more privileges here than any of the inmates, that means I expect a HIGHER standard of behaviour from you at all times. They are NEVER going to see you get away with anything that they'd expect to be punished for."
"You CAN'T lock me in!" Jordan said, nearing tears again. "I won't let you, I'll talk to my Godfather, HE won't let you-"
"Then you'll sleep in his house under his supervision," Jake said sharply, "You don't play that card with me, little boy; you do not play us off against each other. Which is it to be? Do you want to take this to him?"
"Is that true?" Jake asked calmly. Jordan shook his head hard.
Whether he truly understood that or he'd just accepted it as another of The Rules, inexplicable but to be respected, Jake wasn't sure, but there was no doubting the sincerity. Holding Jordan tightly he found what he could reach of his hot face and kissed him.
That was a request Jordan had never yet managed to comply with and the sound of it made him squirm. This whole awful business was embarrassing enough without having to actively collude in it. Scarlet-faced he looked at the floor, then with all the strength of will he could summon up, put his hands on the waistband of the scrubs he was wearing and somehow slid them down over his hips. Jake put a hand on his arm at that point and drew him down over his lap, wrapping one arm around his waist as he reflexively tried to pull back, nerve slipping.