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Thanks to an unmanned cement mixer stationed not too far away, Rex had managed to fill his t-shirt to the brim, and now, the windshield of a certain loud-mouthed foreman was covered in crud. There were small streaks here and there where a person might be able to see out if they strained hard enough, but none of these gaps where on the driver's side, Rex had made certain of that. His green shirt was ruined, but so what. It would be worth it to see the look on Jarvis' face while he tried to drive off...\n\n...on the other hand, the look on Dad's face when he found out about this wasn't going to be nearly as funny.\n\nAs the image of that sunk in, Rex stumbled in his haste to retreat, then turned and ran back to the trailer.\n\n \n\n∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞\n \n\nAn hour later, the ride home was perfectly silent. On any other day, Rex would have been a mass of nervous energy, biting his nails or jiggling a leg, but he couldn't do either of those things now. Right now, Rex barely had the will to breathe, and he slumped in the back of the family's SUV, thinking of only one thing: he'd finally done it and gone too far.\n\nFor a long time, Dad had been yelling at him the second he messed up, sometimes latching onto an arm to give him a shake, or swatting him straight over to a wall if corner-time was in order. It had been months since the man had simply banished him out of the way like he couldn't be bothered to deal with him. In fact, not since the motorbike incident had his father brushed him off after a major fuck up or ignored him... until now.\n\nAs Rex blinked repeatedly and stared out the window, he couldn't help wishing his dad had lost it completely when he saw the foreman's truck. Getting another spanking pants down in the trailer would have been humiliating, but at least it would have told him his dad cared what he'd done and loved him enough to correct him. Getting ordered to the family truck, then having to sit there while Dad tried to calm Jarvis down, just wasn't the same. Dad hadn't scolded him, or smacked his butt, and he hadn't escorted him personally to make sure Rex obeyed. He'd just shoved the keys in Rex's hand with a terse order to \"wait in the truck\", and then stalked off without looking back. Worse still, was the fact that, thirty minutes later, Dad was still maintaining this oppressive silence, like he'd already made up his mind that Son Number Three no longer mattered in his world.\n\nThe sixteen-year-old tried to tell himself that this wasn't his nightmare come to life, that his father was just far too angry to speak to him right now ... but his heart was convinced otherwise and nothing could shake that thought. It whispered that Malcolm Barrett would send him to his room once they got home just like in the old days, and that afterwards, nothing more would happen. Dad would not come up to deal with him over his knee, and if Rex snuck out the front door, no one except his brothers would notice. In short, the dream he'd been living was over.\n\nAs they pulled into the driveway and parked, Rex braced himself for the words he knew were coming. When they fell from Malcolm's lips, the lump in the teenager's throat made it impossible to reply.\n\n\"Go to your room.\"\n\nWithout a sound, Rex opened his door, stepped down from the truck, and went. The inflection in Malcolm's voice was all too familiar, the one he sometimes heard late at night in his head whenever he relived the agony of having to beg his own father for a whipping. He wouldn't beg for one tonight though. He'd just pack his stuff and walk to his grandparents, or maybe hitch a ride over to his Uncle Warren's. At least one of them would take him in. They had to. He didn't know where he'd go if they didn't.\n\nSonny and Dalton were upstairs teaching Kurt to play poker when Rex ran up the stairs, and all three jumped as his bedroom door slammed shut. Sprawled on D's bed, they exchanged silent looks. They could go back to what they'd been doing and ignore him – Lord knows, his temperamental moods were commonplace by now – but something wasn't right this time, and he needed them. The brothers couldn't explain it. They just knew.\n\nAs one, they slid off D's mattress and walked across the hall, not bothering to knock on his door. When they stepped inside, Rex had every drawer in his bureau open and was tossing the contents of each one in the general direction of his bed. He didn't explain his motives, and he didn't have to. The furtive rubs to his flanks told all three brothers what must have happened recently, and the pained look on Rex's face told them even more.\n\nDalton especially couldn't stand to see it. The two of them were well-known as the squabblers in the family – hell, if there was one relative who could get under his skin without fail, it was Reckless Philip Barrett – but they also shared a kinship without compare. It made no sense since they inevitably aimed for the jugular whenever they fought, but D had long ago given up trying to figure it out. All the brothers would be there for each other without question if push came to shove, but Rex was usually front in line for him and vice versa. As he watched his younger brother struggling to hold it together, D went over and slipped in front of him, blocking the teenager from digging inside more drawers.\n\n\"What happened, bro?\"\n\nThat kindly tone was too much for the sixteen-year-old, and his chin began to quiver. The brothers saw it and tried to swarm on him, but Rex didn't think he could stand a group hug right now without breaking down. He brushed them off and retreated to the window with a pair of boxer briefs trailing from one hand. He took a breath to get himself under control, but couldn't stop his eyes from filling when he finally looked over at them.\n\n\"Dad ...h-he ...doesn't ...\"\n\nRex couldn't go on. Kurt tried to approach – probably to hold his hand like he still sometimes did with his big brothers at times like this – but Dalton pulled him back against him. Sonny ignored them both while he gently prodded Reckless for details.\n\n\"Dad doesn't what, Rex? What'd he do to you?\"\n\nHow long it might have taken Reckless to answer was anyone's guess. Before the teen could collect himself, with his fists bunched at his sides and his expression one of agonized shellshock, Malcolm Barrett filled the doorway and barked two words.\n\n\"Boys. Out.\"\n\nSonny's eyes narrowed, but he kept his gazed focused on his second youngest sibling.\n\n\"Give us a minute, Dad. We —\"\n\n\"No,\" Malcolm interrupted. He stepped inside the room then snapped his fingers impatiently toward the hallway. \"All three of you out right now. I have unfinished business with your brother.\"\n\nHis tone brooked no refusal, but the boys stood their ground. Neither Sonny nor Dalton was willing to leave Reckless in the state he was in, and Kurt simply felt caught in the middle. Eleven-year-old sons who valued their hides didn't defy Malcolm Barrett so blatantly, but brothers in trouble were supposed to stick together. This was what Kurt had been taught, and this was also what he believed. Trusting that D would protect him if their dad totally blew his stack, Kurt leaned harder against Dalton while he eyed everyone around him nervously.\n\nKurt needn't have worried. It was extremely clear to Malcolm what was going on between his sons, and it definitely explained why waves of disapproval were coming at him from his two oldest boys. He was too proud of them to crack the whip, but he also wasn't going to wait around indefinitely until they chose to leave on their own. Whether they liked it or not, he was still the head of the household, and he needed some time alone with their brother.\n\n\"Samson!\"\n\nWith a snap of his head, Sonny turned toward his father. It was just like the old man to bark his birth name like that, trying to frighten him into toeing the line so that D and Kurt would follow, but as Sonny opened him mouth to cut him down for it, he quickly changed his mind. He'd always been able to trust what he saw in his dad's eyes, and the look in them now told him nothing truly hurtful was going to happen to Reckless. None of them knew yet what had already taken place between Rex and their father, but Dad did, and he was anxious to fix it. Reluctantly, Sonny nodded. After pulling Rex into a brief hug and whispering some words of encouragement, he left. Dalton looked half-puzzled and half-annoyed, but he followed Sonny's example, taking Kurt along with him.\n\nBy the window, Rex refused to look up. When he heard the door close behind his brothers, he hunched his shoulders subconsciously and braced himself for the worst, while inside his imagination ran riot. Visions of suitcases pelting him in the gut assailed his mind, and he could easily picture his father shouting at him to get the hell out of his house. That instead, his dad might walk up to him, kiss his left temple, then lead him over to the bed was pretty much the last thing on Rex's mind, so when that's precisely what Malcolm did, the teen had no idea how to react. On legs that couldn't quite function, he trembled and stumbled after his dad.\n\nOn the bed, Malcolm sat first, then pulled Rex onto his lap. The teen immediately balked and tried to get up.\n\n\"Dad, I'm not three —\"\n\n\"Hush up and sit still.\"\n\nAn embarrassed Rex stiffened and muttered several complaints, but his dad wasn't interested. Saying nothing, he kept the boy right where he was and waited with his arms locked around his son, knowing that sooner or later Rex would have to relax into him. According to the alarm clock nearby, it took almost eight minutes for the teenager to quit fidgeting and slump against him, but that was all right because Malcolm wasn't in a hurry. As soon as Rex loosened up, he gripped the boy's chin gently then forced him to make eye contact.\n\n\"I know exactly what you were doing today, Reckless, and it's not going to work,\" he began. \"No matter how badly you behave, or how many times you make me warm the seat of your pants, I will always love you, do you understand me?\" Rex slid his gaze toward the floor, but Malcolm tilted his head back up until amber eyes met green. \"Look at me, son. There is nothing you can do to stop me from loving you. Not ever. It won't matter to me if I've just bailed you of jail for first degree murder, understood? I may take a belt to you as soon as we get home, but I will still talk to you, I will still hug you, and I will still kiss you goodnight, okay?\"\n\nSlowly, Rex nodded. It was a tiny one and barely perceptible, but it was genuine and that was all that mattered to Malcolm. He pulled Rex closer to him then and rocked him, silently begging his son for forgiveness. He'd wasted so much time with this one, lost so many opportunities to bond with him that Malcolm was appalled things had come to this. If he'd briefly \"ignored\" any of the other boys in anger the way he'd just done with Rex, they would never have become so withdrawn or fearful. Rex, of course, had reacted that way because of experience, and Malcolm shuddered to think that his boy might never truly recover from the past.\n\nWould he ever stop resenting his father?\n\nDid Malcolm even have the right to expect it of him?\n\nProbably not. He'd cheated him of far too much at this point, of good times and great ones, and countless moments of simply being involved. The one they were sharing right now was a prime example, and Malcolm blinked hard to stop the tears of shame from falling. Just like his brothers did, Rex should have memories galore of snuggling on his dad's lap, yet the boy didn't have a single one past the age of seven, save for the one they were making now – and more would have to follow, of that Malcolm was determined. Rex might think he was too old for these on a regular basis, but Malcolm certainly didn't think so. He didn't think so at all.\n\nWith his head resting on his dad's right shoulder, Reckless was actually hoping the same thing. He'd sooner pierce his dick than admit it aloud, of course, but it felt pretty damn awesome to cuddle up like this with his father. It felt safe, like somehow nothing at all could hurt him if he just stayed in his dad's arms, and it made perfect sense now why Kurt refused to give up the privilege. Almost every night, the little squirt curled his lip at his big brothers' teasing, then plunked his skinny butt down right where he wanted to. Yeah, the more Rex thought about it, the more it made sense.\n\nAn image of Kurt sticking his tongue out was soon replaced with an image of Rex doing the same thing, and the sixteen-year-old winced at the memory of the face he'd made behind Jarvis' back. There was no denying he'd acted like a spoiled brat this afternoon. He'd made his dad look like the worst kind of incompetent parent for not keeping him under control, and who knew how the people under him would treat his father after this because of it? Would they quit because they lost respect for him? Or would they stick around and slack off, gambling that he was too weak to fire their asses? What if customers heard about this and cancelled their contracts? Would the company fold?\n\nProbably none of those scenarios was likely, but Rex still felt like shit. Of all the pranks he'd pulled today, he regretted the last one most of all, and he pushed back from his father slowly until he was sitting up straight against him. He was probably the biggest idiot alive for wanting to apologize for that incident now, but he didn't care. He needed to do it.\n\n\"Um, Dad?\"\n\nMalcolm seemed receptive to whatever it was he wanted to say, so Rex cleared his throat to continue.\n\n\"Dad...I know I didn't say this before we left the site....but I'm sorry about your foreman's truck. Will the, uh, cement come off?\"\n\nSuddenly, Rex didn't want to know the answer. He could feel his dad's muscles tensing around him, and he knew instantly that he'd just hit a major nerve. A surreptitious peek into the man's face confirmed it – not that Rex couldn't tell already.\n\n\"What do you think?\"\n\nAs he contemplated the way his father had just growled that question in his ear, Rex could have kicked himself for opening his big, fat mouth.\n\n\"I think...I'm in big trouble for this,\" he muttered.\n\n\"Good thinking!\" Malcolm snapped. He hadn't intended to punish the boy – or even to discuss that last stunt of his – until morning, but as Malcolm remembered the heated confrontation with Jarvis, he felt his blood pressure rising once again. With a hard swat to Reckless' behind, he forced his son to stand up. \"Go get the belt!\"\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Within minutes, the sixteen-year-old was standing back to admire his handiwork. Thanks to an unmanned cement mixer stationed not too far away, Rex had managed to fill his t-shirt to the brim, and now, the windshield of a certain loud-mouthed foreman was covered in crud. There were small streaks here and there where a person might be able to see out if they strained hard enough, but none of these gaps where on the driver's side, Rex had made certain of that. His green shirt was ruined, but so what. It would be worth it to see the look on Jarvis' face while he tried to drive off...

...on the other hand, the look on Dad's face when he found out about this wasn't going to be nearly as funny.

As the image of that sunk in, Rex stumbled in his haste to retreat, then turned and ran back to the trailer.

 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
 

An hour later, the ride home was perfectly silent. On any other day, Rex would have been a mass of nervous energy, biting his nails or jiggling a leg, but he couldn't do either of those things now. Right now, Rex barely had the will to breathe, and he slumped in the back of the family's SUV, thinking of only one thing: he'd finally done it and gone too far.

For a long time, Dad had been yelling at him the second he messed up, sometimes latching onto an arm to give him a shake, or swatting him straight over to a wall if corner-time was in order. It had been months since the man had simply banished him out of the way like he couldn't be bothered to deal with him. In fact, not since the motorbike incident had his father brushed him off after a major fuck up or ignored him... until now.

As Rex blinked repeatedly and stared out the window, he couldn't help wishing his dad had lost it completely when he saw the foreman's truck. Getting another spanking pants down in the trailer would have been humiliating, but at least it would have told him his dad cared what he'd done and loved him enough to correct him. Getting ordered to the family truck, then having to sit there while Dad tried to calm Jarvis down, just wasn't the same. Dad hadn't scolded him, or smacked his butt, and he hadn't escorted him personally to make sure Rex obeyed. He'd just shoved the keys in Rex's hand with a terse order to "wait in the truck", and then stalked off without looking back. Worse still, was the fact that, thirty minutes later, Dad was still maintaining this oppressive silence, like he'd already made up his mind that Son Number Three no longer mattered in his world.

The sixteen-year-old tried to tell himself that this wasn't his nightmare come to life, that his father was just far too angry to speak to him right now ... but his heart was convinced otherwise and nothing could shake that thought. It whispered that Malcolm Barrett would send him to his room once they got home just like in the old days, and that afterwards, nothing more would happen. Dad would not come up to deal with him over his knee, and if Rex snuck out the front door, no one except his brothers would notice. In short, the dream he'd been living was over.

As they pulled into the driveway and parked, Rex braced himself for the words he knew were coming. When they fell from Malcolm's lips, the lump in the teenager's throat made it impossible to reply.

"Go to your room."

Without a sound, Rex opened his door, stepped down from the truck, and went. The inflection in Malcolm's voice was all too familiar, the one he sometimes heard late at night in his head whenever he relived the agony of having to beg his own father for a whipping. He wouldn't beg for one tonight though. He'd just pack his stuff and walk to his grandparents, or maybe hitch a ride over to his Uncle Warren's. At least one of them would take him in. They had to. He didn't know where he'd go if they didn't.

Sonny and Dalton were upstairs teaching Kurt to play poker when Rex ran up the stairs, and all three jumped as his bedroom door slammed shut. Sprawled on D's bed, they exchanged silent looks. They could go back to what they'd been doing and ignore him – Lord knows, his temperamental moods were commonplace by now – but something wasn't right this time, and he needed them. The brothers couldn't explain it. They just knew.

As one, they slid off D's mattress and walked across the hall, not bothering to knock on his door. When they stepped inside, Rex had every drawer in his bureau open and was tossing the contents of each one in the general direction of his bed. He didn't explain his motives, and he didn't have to. The furtive rubs to his flanks told all three brothers what must have happened recently, and the pained look on Rex's face told them even more.

Dalton especially couldn't stand to see it. The two of them were well-known as the squabblers in the family – hell, if there was one relative who could get under his skin without fail, it was Reckless Philip Barrett – but they also shared a kinship without compare. It made no sense since they inevitably aimed for the jugular whenever they fought, but D had long ago given up trying to figure it out. All the brothers would be there for each other without question if push came to shove, but Rex was usually front in line for him and vice versa. As he watched his younger brother struggling to hold it together, D went over and slipped in front of him, blocking the teenager from digging inside more drawers.

"What happened, bro?"

That kindly tone was too much for the sixteen-year-old, and his chin began to quiver. The brothers saw it and tried to swarm on him, but Rex didn't think he could stand a group hug right now without breaking down. He brushed them off and retreated to the window with a pair of boxer briefs trailing from one hand. He took a breath to get himself under control, but couldn't stop his eyes from filling when he finally looked over at them.

"Dad ...h-he ...doesn't ..."

Rex couldn't go on. Kurt tried to approach – probably to hold his hand like he still sometimes did with his big brothers at times like this – but Dalton pulled him back against him. Sonny ignored them both while he gently prodded Reckless for details.

"Dad doesn't what, Rex? What'd he do to you?"

How long it might have taken Reckless to answer was anyone's guess. Before the teen could collect himself, with his fists bunched at his sides and his expression one of agonized shellshock, Malcolm Barrett filled the doorway and barked two words.

"Boys. Out."

Sonny's eyes narrowed, but he kept his gazed focused on his second youngest sibling.

"Give us a minute, Dad. We —"

"No," Malcolm interrupted. He stepped inside the room then snapped his fingers impatiently toward the hallway. "All three of you out right now. I have unfinished business with your brother."

His tone brooked no refusal, but the boys stood their ground. Neither Sonny nor Dalton was willing to leave Reckless in the state he was in, and Kurt simply felt caught in the middle. Eleven-year-old sons who valued their hides didn't defy Malcolm Barrett so blatantly, but brothers in trouble were supposed to stick together. This was what Kurt had been taught, and this was also what he believed. Trusting that D would protect him if their dad totally blew his stack, Kurt leaned harder against Dalton while he eyed everyone around him nervously.

Kurt needn't have worried. It was extremely clear to Malcolm what was going on between his sons, and it definitely explained why waves of disapproval were coming at him from his two oldest boys. He was too proud of them to crack the whip, but he also wasn't going to wait around indefinitely until they chose to leave on their own. Whether they liked it or not, he was still the head of the household, and he needed some time alone with their brother.

"Samson!"

With a snap of his head, Sonny turned toward his father. It was just like the old man to bark his birth name like that, trying to frighten him into toeing the line so that D and Kurt would follow, but as Sonny opened him mouth to cut him down for it, he quickly changed his mind. He'd always been able to trust what he saw in his dad's eyes, and the look in them now told him nothing truly hurtful was going to happen to Reckless. None of them knew yet what had already taken place between Rex and their father, but Dad did, and he was anxious to fix it. Reluctantly, Sonny nodded. After pulling Rex into a brief hug and whispering some words of encouragement, he left. Dalton looked half-puzzled and half-annoyed, but he followed Sonny's example, taking Kurt along with him.

By the window, Rex refused to look up. When he heard the door close behind his brothers, he hunched his shoulders subconsciously and braced himself for the worst, while inside his imagination ran riot. Visions of suitcases pelting him in the gut assailed his mind, and he could easily picture his father shouting at him to get the hell out of his house. That instead, his dad might walk up to him, kiss his left temple, then lead him over to the bed was pretty much the last thing on Rex's mind, so when that's precisely what Malcolm did, the teen had no idea how to react. On legs that couldn't quite function, he trembled and stumbled after his dad.

On the bed, Malcolm sat first, then pulled Rex onto his lap. The teen immediately balked and tried to get up.

"Dad, I'm not three —"

"Hush up and sit still."

An embarrassed Rex stiffened and muttered several complaints, but his dad wasn't interested. Saying nothing, he kept the boy right where he was and waited with his arms locked around his son, knowing that sooner or later Rex would have to relax into him. According to the alarm clock nearby, it took almost eight minutes for the teenager to quit fidgeting and slump against him, but that was all right because Malcolm wasn't in a hurry. As soon as Rex loosened up, he gripped the boy's chin gently then forced him to make eye contact.

"I know exactly what you were doing today, Reckless, and it's not going to work," he began. "No matter how badly you behave, or how many times you make me warm the seat of your pants, I will always love you, do you understand me?" Rex slid his gaze toward the floor, but Malcolm tilted his head back up until amber eyes met green. "Look at me, son. There is nothing you can do to stop me from loving you. Not ever. It won't matter to me if I've just bailed you of jail for first degree murder, understood? I may take a belt to you as soon as we get home, but I will still talk to you, I will still hug you, and I will still kiss you goodnight, okay?"

Slowly, Rex nodded. It was a tiny one and barely perceptible, but it was genuine and that was all that mattered to Malcolm. He pulled Rex closer to him then and rocked him, silently begging his son for forgiveness. He'd wasted so much time with this one, lost so many opportunities to bond with him that Malcolm was appalled things had come to this. If he'd briefly "ignored" any of the other boys in anger the way he'd just done with Rex, they would never have become so withdrawn or fearful. Rex, of course, had reacted that way because of experience, and Malcolm shuddered to think that his boy might never truly recover from the past.

Would he ever stop resenting his father?

Did Malcolm even have the right to expect it of him?

Probably not. He'd cheated him of far too much at this point, of good times and great ones, and countless moments of simply being involved. The one they were sharing right now was a prime example, and Malcolm blinked hard to stop the tears of shame from falling. Just like his brothers did, Rex should have memories galore of snuggling on his dad's lap, yet the boy didn't have a single one past the age of seven, save for the one they were making now – and more would have to follow, of that Malcolm was determined. Rex might think he was too old for these on a regular basis, but Malcolm certainly didn't think so. He didn't think so at all.

With his head resting on his dad's right shoulder, Reckless was actually hoping the same thing. He'd sooner pierce his dick than admit it aloud, of course, but it felt pretty damn awesome to cuddle up like this with his father. It felt safe, like somehow nothing at all could hurt him if he just stayed in his dad's arms, and it made perfect sense now why Kurt refused to give up the privilege. Almost every night, the little squirt curled his lip at his big brothers' teasing, then plunked his skinny butt down right where he wanted to. Yeah, the more Rex thought about it, the more it made sense.

An image of Kurt sticking his tongue out was soon replaced with an image of Rex doing the same thing, and the sixteen-year-old winced at the memory of the face he'd made behind Jarvis' back. There was no denying he'd acted like a spoiled brat this afternoon. He'd made his dad look like the worst kind of incompetent parent for not keeping him under control, and who knew how the people under him would treat his father after this because of it? Would they quit because they lost respect for him? Or would they stick around and slack off, gambling that he was too weak to fire their asses? What if customers heard about this and cancelled their contracts? Would the company fold?

Probably none of those scenarios was likely, but Rex still felt like shit. Of all the pranks he'd pulled today, he regretted the last one most of all, and he pushed back from his father slowly until he was sitting up straight against him. He was probably the biggest idiot alive for wanting to apologize for that incident now, but he didn't care. He needed to do it.

"Um, Dad?"

Malcolm seemed receptive to whatever it was he wanted to say, so Rex cleared his throat to continue.

"Dad...I know I didn't say this before we left the site....but I'm sorry about your foreman's truck. Will the, uh, cement come off?"

Suddenly, Rex didn't want to know the answer. He could feel his dad's muscles tensing around him, and he knew instantly that he'd just hit a major nerve. A surreptitious peek into the man's face confirmed it – not that Rex couldn't tell already.

"What do you think?"

As he contemplated the way his father had just growled that question in his ear, Rex could have kicked himself for opening his big, fat mouth.

"I think...I'm in big trouble for this," he muttered.

"Good thinking!" Malcolm snapped. He hadn't intended to punish the boy – or even to discuss that last stunt of his – until morning, but as Malcolm remembered the heated confrontation with Jarvis, he felt his blood pressure rising once again. With a hard swat to Reckless' behind, he forced his son to stand up. "Go get the belt!"
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