Bringing Home Danny (3 page)

“
I expect an answer!” Antonio demanded.
 

Before Danny was able to formulate a coherent thought, Antonio delivered another punishing smack with his large hand to the same spot.

“
I...I...”
Shit! What am I suppose to say?
Danny couldn't think. SPANK! “Ow...I don't....”
 

Antonio cut him off. “It's not a trick question, Danny. You don't have to think too hard. I believe your behaviors leading up to this are quite obvious.”

He spanked him again, hard, and Danny jumped. Antonio reeled him back in and waited.

“
I lost my temper and threw my oatmeal!” Danny cried.
 

Antonio would have chuckled at how young he sounded if it hadn't been so pitiful. As simplistic as his version of events was, it was nonetheless accurate. Antonio decided to forgo the lecture. He allowed Danny's words to be the last thing voiced before he picked up the wooden spoon from the table and commenced with the painful lesson. After the third whack, Danny removed his arm from his face, and clutched Antonio's pant legs with both hands. He tried not to cry out with each corrective smack of the spoon. By the time his butt cheeks turned from hot pink to a crimson red, tears were leaking without his consent, and he was struggling not to sob openly.

Feeling his arm getting tired, Antonio glanced down at the red-hot posterior in front of him, and stopped. They both have had enough. He realized how difficult it was for Danny to show his tears and cry. So, he laid down the spoon to rub gentle circles on his back, giving Danny time to gain his composure. Hearing his breathing become less shallow and hiccups replacing tears, Antonio put his game face back on. Lifting Danny to a standing position, he sternly told him to pull up his pants and to find a corner of the kitchen to become acquainted with.

“
While you have your nose in the corner, I want you to think about how all of this could have been prevented. I also want you to give some thought on how your actions could have had led to a much more serious outcome. How would you feel if you were spending this time in the emergency room with TJ instead of nursing a sore behind? I do not care how mad you get. You do not have the right to take your anger out on others.” Antonio paused to let his comments sink in. He followed up with the standard, “Do you understand me?”
 

Fighting back tears of shame once again, Danny meekly responded with a “Yes, sir,” between sniffs and hiccups.

Chapter Two

Corner Time

Damn it!
Danny accepted that what he did was wrong, but why did he have to stand in the corner, too? He hated being in the corner even more than he hated oatmeal. He sorely wished he could go back in time and be sitting at the table eating that stupid baby mush instead of standing here staring at the stupid baby corner. Danny
HATED
being treated like a baby. He was always small for his age and people often thought of him as younger than he was. He fought hard his whole life to be considered older and tougher. It didn't matter how hard he tried, he was either teased and picked on, or called cute and patronized. Growing up without the benefit of siblings or caring parents, Danny found himself in a lot of fights in an attempt to defend and prove himself.

The problem was, he was tired of fighting; he just didn't know how to stop. He wanted to seem more mature, and, well, taller. He heard that some men continued to grow into their early twenties. He sincerely hoped to be one of those late bloomers. It wasn't likely. Only taller guys had that kind of luck. If anybody were going to grow more, it would probably be someone like TJ. It seemed the whole world grew and left him behind.

Danny's legs wobbled from both the pain of his backside rubbing against his pants and from the strain of standing still. It mercilessly brought him back to the present situation. Why the hell, if he wanted to be seen as more mature, did he find himself being the youngest member of a discipline partnership where his tops referred to him as the baby, and his fellow bottoms treated him like a kid brother?

Fuck if he knew. He never thought too much about being gay, much less heard of discipline relationships before he met TJ
.
Up until then, he liked girls; and for the most part, they liked him. But they would never really let him take the dominant role, even after he showed he could hold his own in a fight. No, they would rather see him as someone in need of saving, and would want to mother him and nurse his wounds.

Then, it hit him like a sucker punch. He was here because he did need someone to rescue him, to take care of him, because he wasn't able to do it himself. Mad and disappointed with himself, he kicked the wall in front of him.
Damn!
It hurt to kick the wall in his socked foot.
To hell with being mature.
Secretly, all Danny wanted to do was suck his thumb and cry.

“
Stand still, Danny.”
 

Shit!
 
How long has Antonio been watching me?
 

“
What's the baby doing in the corner?” came Mitch's grim voice behind him.
 

Double shit!
Mitch finally came back to check on my oatmeal progress;
this is not good
.
Take a deep breath and stay calm
.

  “Well, apparently, Danny decided to have a full-blown tantrum. In a fit of temper, he chucked his bowl of oatmeal,” Antonio replied, while pointing to the evidence dripping down the wall.

Danny inhaled and braced himself for what was to come next. It came out as a big hiccup. He was grateful that Antonio didn't find it necessary to mention that he was actually aiming for TJ's head.

“
I see. Come here, Danny.”
 

Shit! Shit! Shit! I can't move,
thought Danny.

“
Now, Daniel!”
 

He slowly turned around, facing his challenger. Worrying his lower lip between his teeth, he peeked up through tear-laden lashes and quickly assessed that he was outmanned. If he could run in retreat he would, but he was backed up against a wall. Facing both his angry tops he realized he was out of options. He was literally cornered.

“
Daniel Christopher, I am going to give you until the count of five, and if you and that sorry little butt of yours are not standing directly in front of me – so help me, you won't be sitting comfortably for a month!”
 

Wide eyes stared back at Mitch as he began his count.

“
One.”
 

Danny took one tentative step forward while unconsciously clutching the seat of his pants.

“
Two!”
 

Danny jumped and took another hesitant step forward.

“
Boy, don't make me have to come and get you!”
 

Danny hastened his pace and reached Mitch in the time it took him to say three.

“
Thank you. Now, would you care to tell me why there is a broken bowl on the
floor, and oatmeal all over the wall?” Mitch’s baritone voice rose with each inflection.
 

Danny could feel his face turning red, his body beginning to sweat, and he was starting to feel as hot as his backside. Too full of shame, he couldn't bring himself to say it. Needing more time to gather his nerve, he could only sniff and shake his head no.

“
Wrong answer!”
 

Mitch grabbed Danny by the arm, swung him sideways, and smacked his bottom with enough force that Danny would have fallen on his face if Mitch hadn't had a firm grip on him.

I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry,
Danny stubbornly told himself.

Turning him back around, Mitch took a tight hold on both of Danny's upper arms, squeezed hard, and shook him.

“
Would you care to try that again?”
 

Danny gazed down at their feet. He tried to think of an answer that wouldn't make it sound as bad as it was.

“
Eyes on me, Danny.”
 

Danny slowly glanced up at Mitch. He opened his mouth to speak and let out another loud hiccup. Mitch's face contorted in anger; he had none of the soft compassionate edges that always made Antonio seem safe even when he was mad. He wondered how a man who claimed to love him could make him feel so small.

“
Take a deep breath and calm down, then, I want an explanation.”
 

Easy for him to say,
thought Danny.
He's not staring at a man twice his size with a death grip on his arms.
Accepting that there was nothing he could do to make the situation better, and not knowing what else to say, he stammered out,   “I...I'm ssorrry.”

Giving a heavy sigh, Mitch questioned, “Sorry for what?”

Danny looked regretfully over at the smashed oatmeal mess.

“
I'm sorry for not eating the oatmeal and for throwing…”
 

He paused to consider the chances that Mitch wouldn't find out that he tried to split TJ's head open with it. The odds were against him. “…ThrowingitatTJ,” he finished in one quick, quiet breath.

“
I'm sorry, could you repeat that?” Mitch asked, dropping his grip on Danny. “This time slower and louder.”
 

Unable to maintain eye contact, Danny focused his attention straight ahead towards Mitch's chest. In what seemed like an alternative universe, Danny couldn't imagine how he ever thought of his broad muscled chest as sexy or comforting. At the moment, he only thought of it as a solid wall he could neither move nor escape from. Suddenly, the blood drained from his body. An eerie calmness came over him as he crossed his arms to rub the ache out of his biceps.

“
I – t h r e w – i t – a t – T J,” he said, emphasizing each word.
 

“
I see. Was there any particular reason for that? Or, were you trying to play catch with it?” Sarcasm stretched each of Mitch's words, as well.
 

“
Umm...no. I was trying to knock the smirk off TJ’s face, and empty my bowl at the same time.”
 

Although it was as honest an answer as he could give, his instincts told him it was not the response that would make Mitch happy. Not trusting what he would see if he looked him in the face, Danny glanced past him and caught Antonio shaking his head in disbelief.

“
But, he ducked and I missed,” Danny finished before losing his nerve.
 

“
Are you being smart with me?”
 

“
N-no, sir,” Danny stammered, and proceeded to bite his thumbnail.
 

“
Because trust me, boy, this is not the time to get cute.”
 

Danny remained silent. He began to study his thumb and chew the skin around it. He found himself getting irritated. Danny wanted Mitch to stop prolonging his agony with stupid sayings such as 'being smart' and 'getting cute,' as if it was something he could turn off and on. Besides, he couldn't help it if he was both cute and smart.
And so what if I am? What's wrong with that?
Danny knew he was letting his mind wander. It was something he did as a coping mechanism to avoid unpleasant thoughts. Curious of the silence, Danny ventured a peek up at Mitch. Mitch returned an equally curious look back at him.

“
Get your thumb out of your mouth,” was all Mitch could think to say before pulling Danny's hand away.
 

The gesture brought back some of the earliest memories Danny had of his father. He seemed to always be cross with him, and was constantly telling him to get his thumb out of his mouth. He could not understand now, any more than when he was a child, why it mattered to anyone else if he sucked his thumb or bit his nails.
Who was it hurting?
Danny showed his irritation with an exaggerated sigh and a roll of his eyes.

“
Go clean up your mess,” Mitch said through gritted teeth, trying to contain his own temper.
 

Danny took a small step away and shrugged. Not happy with his response, Mitch sent him propelling forward towards the aftermath of his culinary missile with an encouragingly harsh swat. He then stood with his arms crossed while his youngest partner clumsily tackled his task.  He had a hard time figuring this one out.
How could someone appear so sweetly vulnerable one minute and defiantly stubborn the next?
He was never quite sure if the boy needed a hug or a smack. It was unsettling; he didn't like second-guessing himself. It also didn't help that Antonio, the soft touch, was pleading his case. "Yes, he had come close to hurting TJ. Remember, he was already punished for that misdeed and served his time."

Served his time? Maybe. Learned his lesson?
Mitch was not convinced. “That may be,” he said out loud, “but he and I have unfinished business.”

Listening to Mitch and Antonio talk about him as if he wasn't there wasn't helping Danny to contain his ire. He reminded himself how miserable he was in the corner, and how he wished he could undo the events that led him there.

“
Fuck!” The expletive escaped Danny's lips as he struggled to scrape dry oatmeal acting like glue from the wall.
 

“
Watch your mouth, Danny, unless you want it washed out with soap before the morning is over.”
 

Danny grumbled something unintelligible at Mitch's threat.

“
I suggest you get your temper under control and your tongue in check, or this will turn out to be a very long and painful day for you.”
 

Danny knew he was expected to answer with a 'yes, sir,' but the words refused to drop from his lips as he attempted to extract them from his mouth. Mitch could see the anger flare from his eyes and decided to move the proceedings along. He pulled Danny away from his scrubbing, picked him up under his arms and plopped him on the granite counter top. Drawing a painful hiss from Danny, Mitch leaned over so they could be eye to eye. He placed each hand firmly against the counter effectively trapping Danny between them. If Danny could have swallowed, this would have been an appropriate time to gulp.