A Collar For His Brat 3_Reboot

by R. J. Moray

  When Channon caught sight of him the kid nearly fell out of his chair. “Sir!” He went bright red, that porcelain-pale skin staining so easily. “Uh… Mr Scott?”

  “My office,” Nate said, turning on his heel, and then turning back to add, “You’re not in trouble, don’t worry.”

  By the time they got back to Nate’s office, Channon still looked like he was silently panicking, and Nate felt a burst of pity for him.

  “Sit down,” he said.

  Channon closed the door and sat down. “Sir?”

  Nate sat on the edge of his desk, watching Channon and thinking, You’re pretty and you’re polite, and why does that sound so unappealing?

  Because Nate wanted something else, something sharper. Because Nate and Jack were different people, and Jack wanted perfect, obedient, angelic Channon while Nate really didn't.

  Nate cleared his throat. “So, I guess something happened with Jack.”

  Channon looked down, his hands clawing at his knees, and Nate breathed out a long breath. Of course something happened.

  “Right. I knew it. He’s such a…” fucking idiot. “Okay. Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but you can talk to me about it if you want. I know I’m not, you know, your therapist or anything, but I’d like to think that we’re friends.”

  Channon blinked at him. “You’re my boss, sir.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Nate grimaced, unable to get around the fact that he was Channon’s boss, and Channon’s whole context for him outside of that was being ordered to his knees so Nate could stick his dick in Channon’s mouth, and yeah, this was a fucking mess. Goddammit Jack, why did you make it so complicated? “But…listen. Whatever happened, it’s having ramifications. Jack’s being unreasonable and I need you to go up there and talk him down.”

  Channon bit his lip. “I don’t understand.”

  “Me neither!” Nate scrubbed a hand over his face. “And I should. It’s Jack. I’ve known him for…fuck, I’m known him almost as long as you’ve been alive, and…it really fucks me off when he doesn’t listen to me.” He shook his head. “But he might listen to you. So. If you want to tell me what happened, I won’t judge. I promise.”

  This seemed to send the kid into a paroxysm of indecision, but when he met Nate’s eye he said, very bravely, that Jack had forgotten about one of their playdates because of work and left Channon waiting for him and…yeah. That made horrible sense.

  Jack had failed. He hated failing, tended to go nuclear on his failures, preferring to burn it all to the ground rather than work with the disastrous remains. Work had compromised his ability to be what he wanted to be for Channon. He’d made a choice, so he’d never have to feel that way again.

  The only real shock here was that Jack had chosen a pretty young man he’d known for a handful of months over the company they’d spent over a decade building together.

  He told Channon that, nearly all of it, and watched as Channon grew indignant on behalf of his Dom, which was cute and kind of like being glared at by a puppy.

  A puppy who might, actually, be able to talk Jack down.

  It was worth a shot.

  “Listen,” Nate said, as evenly as he could manage. “Do you want Jack to be happy?”

  Channon nodded. “Yes. Yes, sir.”

  So Nate told him about Jack’s so-called legacy, about what he’d done to put this company on the map, how much Jack enjoyed his work and how proud he’d always been of the company they’d built up from nothing to this. Nate told him about how people relied on Jack and believed in him, and how if he left the share price would plummet and while that wasn’t really as big deal for Jack and Nate, it would be awful for the employees who had shares in the company.

  He didn’t mention that it would also bring a lot of media attention on Jack and, by extension, Channon, because that wasn’t fair. He thought it though, thought about it a lot after Channon left to, presumably, talk some sense into Jack.

  Media attention might not be great for Jack and Channon, but wouldn’t it be just as bad for Nate? Ewan was an employee. Nate really shouldn’t have been involved with him. It sounded like a conversation he should have with HR, and maybe the legal team.

  And maybe Ewan, before he included anyone else.

  He was still sitting in his office, thinking about how disastrously that conversation could go, when Jack called.

  “So, I owe you an apology,” he said.

  Nate breathed out a huff. “Okay. For what, exactly, are you apologizing?”

  “For not talking to you about my plans, when they affect you as much as they do me, and for…overreacting.”

  “Apology accepted,” Nate said, because that was the kind of friendship that they had. “Are you still selling?”

  “No. Channon has reminded me that it wouldn’t actually achieve what I had set out to do. And I’d get bored if I did that.”

  “Maybe what you need is a challenge,” Nate said, leaning back in his chair. “A side-hustle.”

  Jack laughed. “Maybe. Link me, if you have any ideas.”

  “I think you should start a philanthropic organization for cute twunks,” Nate suggested.

  “Interesting. I think I’m going to hang up now.”

  “Coward.”

  Nate closed his eyes, feeling like he should be congratulated. Crisis averted.

  He'd only just shut down his computer when his phone rang.

  It was Cameron. “Mom found out about the gay thing,” he said the second Nate picked up.

  “I thought it was a bisexual thing,” Nate said, his heart skipping a beat because…poor fucking Cameron.

  “I mean, it’s probably a bisexual thing? But Mom won’t stop saying ‘gay’ and it sucks,” Cameron babbled. He sounded out of breath. “She says I can’t talk to you, and I have to see Pastor James, and she won’t let me hang out with Adrien because she thinks we’re fucking which is bullshit because Adrien has a girlfriend but I can’t tell her that because his parents will kill him, and—”

  Nate could hear traffic and wind noise in the background. “Slow down, kiddo. Where are you?”

  “I’m walking to the bus station.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m coming to see you.” Cameron’s voice broke and Nate couldn’t bear it. “You promised I could if it was bad.”

  “Okay.” Shit. “Do you have any money?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got birthday money.”

  “I’ll come get you from the station, okay?”

  “Okay.” He sounded so much younger than fifteen.

  Nate took a deep breath. “Cameron, listen to me. Your mom loves you. And she’s going to get over this. But whatever she’s said to freak you out is not okay, and you’re not…there’s nothing wrong with you. All right?”

  “I know! She’s a bitch.”

  “She’s your mom. I’m not saying you have to forgive her but try to remember that she thinks she’s doing the right thing, even though she’s wrong. Okay?”

  “Whatever. Don’t call her.”

  “I am absolutely going to call her. Text me so I know when to pick you up.”

  “Ugh! Fine!” And then, begrudgingly— “Thanks, Uncle Nate.”

  When Cameron hung up, Nate took a deep breath, and called Katie.

  It was exactly as awful as he’d imagined. He had to hear her say, “I knew this would happen. He’s so sensitive and you always encourage him.”

  “Do you really think I turned my nephew bi because I’m not afraid of hugging him?” Nate snapped, furious with her but, really, not surprised at all.

  “I don’t know what to think,” she said bitterly. “I don’t know what you do.”

  Fuck. “Do you want your relationship with your son to go the same way it did between me and Dad? Because that’s what’s going to happen if you don’t accept that he likes guys and he’s still the same person you raised.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated and exhausted and done with the whole conversation. “Yo
u need some time to cool off. Cameron’s going to stay with me for a bit, until you can talk to him like his mom, and not someone who wants him to be something he’s not.”

  He hung up. There was a bad taste in his mouth and an ache in the back of his skull, and a text on his phone with a photo of a bus ticket, and another from Ewan asking if he could come over tonight.

  Fuck.

  He texted Cameron back and called Ewan. “My nephew is coming to stay,” he said, and instead of making light of it, Ewan asked if everything was okay. “I don’t know. I mean, it will be, but…he’s sort of…run away from home? I have to pick him up from the bus station.”

  There was silence from the other end of the phone, and then— “So, do you want me to come with you?”

  “Yes,” Nate said, because he did, and nothing could possibly make things worse.

  Chapter 10

  The kid took one look at Ewan and blurted out, “Oh my God, are you Uncle Nate’s boyfriend?”

  Ewan shoved his hands into his pockets and glared at him. “Maybe I am. What’s it to you?”

  The kid just stared at him for a second. Then he shrugged. “Nothing. You’ve got an accent, what is that?”

  “Scottish,” Ewan said crisply, feeling belligerent and prickly.

  “We’re Scottish too!” He grinned, shoving the hair out of his eyes and hitching his bag high on his shoulder. “I’m Cameron! Do you eat haggis?”

  “No. Don’t be racist,” he added mockingly, and Cameron cackled like it was the best thing he’d ever heard.

  Nate caught Ewan’s eye and shrugged apologetically. Ewan called shotgun on the passenger seat and refused to move it up to make room for Cameron’s tiny baby legs.

  The kid was in a good mood, or at least a boisterous one, pointing at things and shouting about stuff Ewan didn’t really follow. He just kept watching Nate out of the corner of his eye, seeing the awful tension in his neck bunch and relax. Nate wasn’t handling this well. Ewan figured, therefore, it was up to him.

  “Do you ever shut up?” he asked the kid.

  Cameron paused, and then snickered. “Do you talk?”

  “Some people wait until they have something to say.”

  “So, do you have sleep-overs?” Cameron asked, far too wide-eyed to be as innocent as he sounded. “I mean, do you, you know, do it?”

  “Cam,” Nate warned, but Ewan shot him a grin, patting his thigh in reassurance.

  “If you can’t say it then you shouldn’t ask about it,” he drawled. “So, how’d you get busted anyway? What’s your big gay coming out story?”

  Cameron shrugged, looking out the window. “Got caught making out with Danny Trainor. Which Mom is, like, worse about because he’s Catholic.”

  “That is worse,” Ewan agreed, keeping a straight face as best he could. “Is Danny Trainor in trouble?”

  “Uh, yeah? His dad coaches lacrosse.”

  “So?”

  “So he’s probably grounded forever.” Cameron made a face. “He’s not even a good kisser. Not worth it.”

  Ewan pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh out loud at Nate’s dramatic wince.

  “I don’t want to hear about teenagers kissing,” Nate said. “Can I shut you up with take-out?”

  “Taco Bell?”

  “We can get burritos, but not Taco Bell.”

  “Are you going to make me eat vegetables?”

  “I’m going to make you order vegetables, but you only have to eat some of them.”

  This seemed enough to satisfy him.

  When they got back to Nate’s, Cameron dumped his stuff at the end of the couch and flopped onto it, already digging into the food sack.

  “At the table, please,” Nate said, picking the sack up and carrying it into the kitchen. Cameron caught Ewan’s glance and rolled his eyes expressively. Ewan bit down on a grin and followed them in.

  It was strange, watching Nate with his nephew. Nate seemed wary of getting too close, treated Cameron like he was fragile when Cameron seemed anything but, bouncing back pretty well from whatever had happened today.

  They got the story in pieces. He’d been making out with Danny Trainor (from Mathletes, whatever that was) behind the gym. They’d been caught by that One Teacher, the one Cameron hated, who gave them detention and called their parents but, when push came to shove, couldn’t actually say the words for what they’d been caught doing only that it had been ‘unnatural and lewd’. Cameron had lost his temper, shouted, “God, we were just making out, don’t make it sound like someone was fucking a sheep,” and got himself another detention, at which point his mother showed up and everything had gone to hell. She’d dragged him home, threatened him with changing schools—

  “Though, like, she thought a boys school would be better? And I was like, ‘What? I mean that’s more boys to make out with,’ and she looked like she was going to puke, but I’m right.”

  —and then told Cameron to wait for his father to come home.

  Which was when Cameron had locked himself in his room, taken the fly-screen off his window and climbed out, like generations of teenagers before him.

  “And then I called you,” he said, giving Nate a solemn look that didn’t suit him at all. “Thanks for picking up, Uncle Nate.”

  “Always,” Nate told him, one hand coming out to hover over Cameron’s shoulder as if he wanted to squeeze him but couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  “He’s not radioactive,” Ewan said later, while Cameron was brushing his teeth. “You can give him a fucking hug, he’s already queer.”

  “Katie blames me,” Nate said shortly. “It might be my fault.”

  “Like it fucking works like that,” Ewan scoffed. He reached up to tug Nate’s collar, making him look down at him. “You know it doesn’t.”

  “I know, but I feel responsible.”

  “You're not responsible for a teenager snogging another teenager behind the sports shed. That’s just classic.”

  Nate smiled, wrapping an arm around Ewan’s waist to haul him in. “Oh? So I’m innocent, then?”

  “Not even a bit.” Ewan went up on his toes, pressing a kiss into the corner of Nate’s mouth and Nate turned to catch him, tongue flickering over his lip. Ewan opened up for him at once, let him in, feeling that familiar giddy vertigo, wanting nothing so much as to pull himself up into Nate’s arms and hold on to him.

  “Oh.”

  Ewan jerked away, but Nate didn’t move, just glanced up at Cameron in the doorway.

  “I’m going to bed,” Cameron said, his cheeks a little pink. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” Nate said. When he was gone— “Well, that was bound to happen eventually.”

  Ewan tugged at Nate’s collar, in a bid to regain his attention. “Can I stay?”

  Nate’s smile was weary and grateful. “God, yeah.”

  They’d put Cameron in the spare room—the play room, only before driving out to the bus station there had been some hurried moving of things out of the play room and into the lockable storage. Nate had insisted on flipping the mattress too, clearly uncomfortable about all the sex he’d been having on it.

  Which meant, of course, that Ewan was going to have to choose between sleeping on the couch or in Nate’s bed.

  It seemed obvious, but still he needed Nate to invite him in, vampire-like in his reluctance to trespass where he wasn’t wanted. He wound his arms around Nate’s neck, pressing up against him and willing him to say—

  “Come to bed with me,” Nate said.

  Ewan smiled. “Sure.”

  They weren’t going to have sex, Ewan knew that. No play either, not with Cameron just across the landing. But Nate lent him a t-shirt that was too big for him, and boxer-shorts to sleep in, and curled Ewan up against his chest, folded around him like a blanket. He pressed his mouth to the back of Ewan’s neck, arms bracketing Ewan in, and his chest was heavy against Ewan’s spine, his thighs thick and strong and hairy, and his fingers tracing featherlight over
the backs of Ewan’s hands.

  He smelled like Nate, citrusy and familiar, and his bed was comfortable and warm, and Ewan was safe in it, Nate would protect him from anything.

  Even Nate.

  “If you get spooked,” Nate murmured in his ear, “there’s a quilt and pillows in the laundry cupboard. Sleep on the couch if you want, just don’t leave, okay?”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Ewan said, meaning it for more than just tonight.

  Did Nate hear it? It wasn’t clear. Ewan was glad, and sad, and felt certain that soon he was going to have to say it properly.

  They took Cameron shopping in the morning, just for clothes and toiletries and everything else a teenage boy needed and forgot to pack when he ran away from home. Ewan trailed behind them playing Minecraft on his phone and texting Sadie increasingly bored texts and photos of ugly shirts and unnecessarily gendered products.

  Nate’s phone rang just before lunch and he had to take it, handing Ewan his credit card as he walked a little way off to make serious faces out the window.

  For a brief moment, Ewan imagined legging it, splurging Nate’s money on, God, a new TV, a sound system, a couch that didn’t smell like old yogurt.

  Just a moment. Then he found Cameron and dragged him up to the counter to pay for his stuff.

  “Thanks, Dad,” Cameron snickered.

  Ewan felt his face seize up, spluttering for a moment. “I’m not your dad,” he protested.

  “I can’t call you ‘Mr McKinney’,” Cameron argued, ignoring the wide-eyed look on the sales assistant’s face. “‘Uncle Ewan’ just sounds weird.”

  “So you’re going with 'Dad'?”

  “Only cos you hate it,” Cameron said serenely.

  He was a little shit, really. Ewan wondered if this was how Nate felt about him, this constant desire to strangle him for the perverse decisions he seemed to make every few minutes. Like when Cameron put hot butterscotch sauce on top of mandarin ice-cream and then covered it with rainbow sprinkles.

  “My mom found out that I’m not straight,” he told the woman behind the counter, “and kicked me out of the house.” She ended up giving him a chocolate-dipped pretzel on the house, much to Ewan’s disgust.